Foreign passport. Decline. Relocation. Doctors who join the list aimed at finding them work abroad. High-tech people who transfer money abroad. Israelis who are studying abroad and are now contemplating the possibility of staying there. All these things make me angry and angry at the same time.
Israelis have always left the country. Even during the period of the Second Aliyah, which was perhaps the most ideological of all, there were quite a few who returned to Russia.
The United States has an Israeli community of more than half a million immigrants. They used to be called freckles. They used to leave in the dark, feeling ashamed, and they always said they were coming back. That the luggage is already packed. Those who succeeded there and lived the dream of the land of unlimited possibilities felt safer to say they left to make money.
And that's okay. Life is short, there is no replay, and everyone must do the best and most suitable for their life. But, and there is a but, the quest for a foreign passport saddens me. The real meaning of striving for a foreign passport is that they believe that this entity, called the State of Israel, will not survive, and that they must find a place of refuge for themselves.
This means that they are not sure that this thing, called Israeli society, will survive. That they are not willing to be part of finding the solution to society's problems – and there are many problems. They are ready to start all over again in a new country, a new language, a different culture, without a family, and redevelop a root system that will keep them and their families in the new place. A root system that will withstand foreign and cold winds.
If the enormous energy required for this were devoted to finding a solution, Israel would be in a much better place.
I also lived abroad for about two years. London. Life was great and interesting. I worked in a fascinating job. I have traveled around Europe. But I also remember the feeling of foreignness. The difference in mentality, despite the vibrant social life I had.
And I vividly remember the moment when I decided that my place was only in Israel. We sat down with a group of friends, all British except me, to watch a TV show that essentially resembled the Pale Tracker. The words and sentences were clear. But while my friends burst out laughing, I lacked the cultural basis to understand why it's funny and what cultural layers it lies on.
It was clear to me that never, if I stayed there, I would be an exile in my country. I will speak English, but I will think in Hebrew and dream in Hebrew. And that the Sea of Galilee will always be a thousand times more beautiful to me than any drab London landscape. Because how true are the words of the poet Shaul Tchernichovsky: Man is nothing but the pattern of his native landscape. A week later I was on the plane back to Israel.
There is room for criticism of what has been done in Israel. There is room to make far-reaching corrections. But there is also room to fight for the spot. Do not throw away the watch if it has broken down, but send for repair. To continue to be the wandering Jew, rootless and lacking cultural contexts – this is not a work plan. This is a plan to omit the foundation on which the state was established.
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