I hope everyone is staying safe during these most challenging of times and is in good health and good spirits.
Today, I am launching DavidMakovsky.com, , a place where you can see my latest articles, books, podcast, campus visits, op-eds and more. Additionally, I’ve decided to start a semi-regular newsletter. I see this newsletter as observations about developments related to US Mideast policy that I think may interest you.
I am also going to include links to articles. They could be useful pieces recalling history or may be thought provoking today. As they say on Twitter, retweets do not mean endorsements. Yet, I think they may add to our understanding of either forgotten events, or serve as a piece of the puzzle of a complex issue we grapple with today.
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We are currently in a time of mourning, and it is difficult to think of much else.
Around the world, COVID-19 has meant loved ones cannot attend funerals and other forms of communal grief in-person. People are now attending both funerals and shivas over video streaming platforms like Zoom.
But this year has an additional level of mourning as military cemeteries are shut down to the public for the first time in history for Yom Hazikaron (Memorial Day). Instead, Israel will televise a ceremony to recall its fallen.
More than perhaps any other, Israel is a country that has always mourned as a community. Israel’s Knesset legislated Yom Hazikaron in 1963 to underscore the point that it is because of those who made the supreme sacrifice that that the state could be established. That is why Yom Hazikaron is a day before Yom Ha’atzmaut (Independence Day – April 29), and the ceremonies often blend into each other.
Israel lost almost one percent of its population in the 1948 War of Independence. (In today’s terms, that would be the equivalent of 3 million Americans.) One percent of the population means that everyone knew someone who died, whether a family member, friend, or neighbor. And over the years, the numbers have grown. Everyone has lost someone.
Yom Hazikaron is a most solemn day given the county’s intimate knowledge of war and terror, and since most Israelis undergo mandatory military service. It is a time for families to mourn over the loss of loved ones, share poignant stories, and even reconnect with people who served in their child’s military unit. Families stand in silence as the air raid siren goes off and the entire country virtually freezes to meditate about the loss Israel has endured.
Gadi Eizenkot, who served as top military aide to Prime Minister Ariel Sharon before becoming IDF Chief of Staff, says that before Sharon would make public remarks at Mount Herzl (Israel’s National Military Cemetery, akin to Arlington Cemetery), he would insist on spending an hour going from grave to grave of fallen comrades in battle. No cameras, no retinue of aides.
Because even when mourning is communal, it is eminently personal.
But this year, as Israelis are mourning while isolated, I recall the siege in Jerusalem in the months leading up to the establishment of the state. This led to extreme rationing of bread, food, and even water. Many of us celebrated Passover this year in isolation, cut off from family and friends; in 1948, they were cut off from the outside world and had to celebrate the holiday on “2 lb potatoes, 2 eggs, 0.5 lb fish, 4 lb matzoth, 1.5 oz dried fruit, 0.5 lb meat and 0.5 lb matza flour” per person. They were mourning the loss of family and friends, yet isolated and unable to mourn together.
With COVID-19, we see long lines in supermarkets and all the empty shelves, something that Americans are not familiar with. We see bread lines on television, and read of levels of unemployment unheard of since the Great Depression. We are disconnected from family, with children home from school, worrying about the elderly and our at-risk.
We, too, are communally mourning in isolation.
As one leaves a house of mourning, it is customary to tell the mourner “May God comfort you among the rest of the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem.” Perhaps one contemporary reading of this line is that, though we are currently alone, once the isolation is over, we will be able to comfort each other again, just like that those lost in Jerusalem in 1948 are still being mourned by the entire country of Israel today.
A few links that you may enjoy:
Israeli and Palestinian Authority health systems working together to minimize the coronavirus in the West Bank. United Nations Middle East envoy Nickolay Mladenov termed such cooperation “excellent”.
https://www.usip.org/publications/2020/04/gaza-israelis-and-palestinians-face-common-foe-coronavirus
Coronavirus on the Israeli-Palestinian Scene (Part 1): The West Bank and East Jerusalem
The outbreak has temporarily shifted the two sides from squabbling over the ‘deal of the century’ to cooperating against the ‘pandemic of the century,’ though bitter political differences continue to cause tensions.
A more in-depth account of the 1948 siege of Jerusalem.
https://www.jpost.com/opinion/jerusalem-from-closed-to-closure-624744
In 1991, under attack from Saddam Hussein’s SCUD missiles, Israelis gathered in sealed rooms with gas masks.
Historically, we see many cases when a leader mourns along with their citizens. Today in the United States, we are experiencing something slightly different.
I hope you enjoyed this newsletter. If so, tell your friends.
Feel free to send your feedback, I will be grateful for your thoughts.
Please stay safe.
Sincerely,
David