Those of you who have been reading me here for some time may remember my dislike of the Kohelet Forum and its people, a group that always makes sure to be on the wrong side of every event. Wherever there are helpless people, people who are not better off or, God forbid, have made a few mistakes in life, Kohelet and the other organizations connected to it always stand by and always under the guise of "values," because values are important. Whoever is weak - let him cope.
Single mothers? We need to make sure that they don't get too much money from the state, because then more and more women will want to raise a child alone (wonder - do any of the drafters of this opinion get up five times a night for a baby with teeth coming out?), waiting for public housing? Ecclesiastes will tell you what you need, and no, it's not an apartment (it's a copy of Rich Dad, Poor Dad) electronic handcuffing? This is a disproportionate infringement on the freedom of movement of poor men (preferably a woman who never moves freely anywhere again).
If Kohelet had intervened in the legislative process of my law in the Knesset, I have no doubt that they would have chosen to oppose it on the grounds that restrictions on an artist's contract would harm my manager's ability to put my feet on me as if I were a stool. Fortunately, this happened a long time ago, and Meir Rubin, Kohelet's CEO, was still a libertarian puppy who, if pressed on his stomach, barks twice and says that a welfare state is sane.
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And why did I remember Meir Rubin and Ecclesiastes again, except for the fact that with their kind help the state goes Kibinimat? Last week, a lengthy interview with Rubin was broadcast on the "Real Time" program. It was an attempt to introduce viewers to this man who heads the powerful and rich body that for several years has been successfully pushing extremist agendas, most of which are apparently unacceptable to the Israeli public.
Robin sat down in front of the camera to answer (or not answer) questions, gave us a tour of Kohelet's offices, and even took us into his home, to show that he is a real man, flesh and blood, that he has a wife and children that he loves and even takes them to kindergarten in the morning.
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Travel warning: I'm going to write here about Meir Rubin, CEO of the Kohelet Forum, and it would be annoying, preachy and condescending, meaning I could have been hired at Kohelet without a problem. Some will wonder how dare I analyze a person I have never met, and I will dare say that I recognize in this man, that is, in his image as portrayed in the interview, myself. Minus the bit about bringing us to the brink of civil war and that.
One of the reasons why democracy is the least bad of all the alternatives is the mechanism (when it works) that encourages turnover in the centers of power. No one should be so strong for so long, not only because power corrupts, but because it bites into the soul and undermines one's sense of self. But Rubin is not an elected official, and the Kohelet Forum is a very strong body, but it is not a democratic body.
I watched the interview and prepared to see a detached man. Instead I saw distress. A man who receives an unprecedented attack (perhaps justifiably) that there is no way to get through it and emerge unscathed. "I usually get what I want" - a man who uses arrogance as a weapon of self-defense. Robin understands and feels the anger directed at him and seems to be able to hide the enormous anxiety that comes with it, this is not the first time he has been wrong.
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So I'm going to make some assumptions here, and in the worst case scenario I'll be wrong. I assume that Robin grew up in a very principled family, a family in which ideals guide the ways of behaving and making decisions in life. Not many people were evacuated from their homes twice, both in Sinai and Gush Katif, and it is clear that Rubin is carrying with him these wounds, which are still bleeding. I suppose the reason Robin still functions so admirably is that in pioneer families you raise difficult people. themselves and others.
This trivial act of talking to a stranger about my private affairs seemed to me like something to be ashamed of. After all, people like us are supposed to bear the difficulty in silence and for nothing. Who are we to complain?
Growing up in a family of people who built this country, literally, stone by stone and letter by letter, means that there is only black and white, right and wrong, allowed and forbidden. Emotions are this annoying thing that soils everything in an intermediate gray, and it would be better if everyone tried to avoid them as much as possible. Values and ideals are meant to benefit human society, but they certainly aren't about any one specific detail. Life is a burden to be carried quietly, it is neither a picnic nor a pleasure cruise. Anyone who thinks otherwise is spoiled and corrupt. And that's how you grow up, uprooted not only from home, but also from yourself. I know.
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A decade ago, I sat down on the psychologist's couch for the first time and started talking. I arrived there full of guilt and with zero ability to understand what was happening to me and how it affected me and everyone next to me. Every big thing that happened was immediately violently pushed down: just not to feel. To feel is for the weak, and weakness is something to be disgusted with. I didn't know how to be happy. I didn't know how to love. I didn't know how to be angry.
Even this trivial act of talking to a stranger about my private affairs (plus paying money for it!) seemed to me like something to be ashamed of. After all, people like us are supposed to bear the difficulty in silence and for nothing. Who are we to complain? Conservatives would call it a "snowflake." I call it "being human." It sounds like a fucked up line from a self-help book, but it wasn't until I started having compassion for myself that I learned to have compassion for others.
It was and still is a difficult and upsetting journey, but thanks to it I am better for my partner, my children and myself. Understanding and admitting your feelings doesn't necessarily translate into career success, financial well-being or even an easier life, but they are the only way to be happy.
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Sorry for the missionaries and forgiveness from all the coaches, workshop facilitators and therapists in a thousand and one disciplines - the quickest way to do it is to do it slowly. I had so many objections to classic therapy, I rolled my eyes at the thought of silences in the armchair and "Where does it meet you?", and a decade later I'm pretty sure that the only way to fix the world is with free psychological therapy for every man, woman and child (Ecclesiastes will probably love this initiative). When Meir Rubin and his friends can feel genuine empathy for others, we can assume that they really care about us.
I know this column is one big leap to conclusions, I've analyzed here the personality, personal history, and motivations of a man I've never met, but hey, it's not very different from how Kohelet draws conclusions about single mothers.
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