A Dishonourable Knighthood: Why Shimon Shouldn’t Have Gone

During my first couple of years in Israel, I used to take my shoes to be repaired by a cobbler on Jerusalem’s Jaffa Road. The lovely old gentleman was born and grew up under the British Mandate for Palestine (1920-1948). When I first told him I was British, far from throwing my shoes back in my face, his eyes lit up as he reminisced, with no little nostalgia, how wonderfully polite the British soldiers were during that period, almost as if wishing them back.

This is not the reaction one would expect from a cold study of the history books. Even if the British could have explained away the 1939 White Paper – severely restricting Jewish immigration to Palestine – as political necessity, the turning back of ships packed with survivors of German death camps smacked of unimaginable cruelty.

But the deferential Israeli attitude to everything British prevails to this day. When the English football team and fans visited Tel Aviv for a European Championship qualifier, in March of last year, the authorities bedecked the Tel Aviv promenade in the flag of St. George, turning it into a Middle Eastern Southend-on-Sea. And the annual British Film Festival, at the Tel Aviv, Jerusalem and Haifa Cinematheques, is more popular than any other.

But there is something more than a little patronising about Britain’s attitude towards Israel. And it defies logic.

Whatever his many detractors in Israel might say about him, no one can deny that President Shimon Peres has devoted much of his life to masterminding the survival of Israel and its citizens, through unremitting wars with Arab neighbours to daring operations like Entebbe (of which he is widely considered to have been the brains). The Queen and Prince Philip, on the other hand, have spent much of theirs gallivanting around the Commonwealth, gazing at natives’ bouncing dangly bits, in one “Bongo-Bongo Land” or another (let’s face it, I’m sure that’s how the wonderfully un-PC Prince would view them) .

Not a single member of the Royal Family has ever been on an official visit to Israel. During her 56-year reign, the Queen has undertaken over 250 official visits to more than 130 different countries. Her total abstinence from Israel is all the more remarkable when one considers her constitutional role as Head of the Church of England. Has no one ever informed her that some pretty heavy Christian sh*t has gone down here too?

A leaked email exchange between his aides, last year, suggested that Prince Charles – who has visited Israel once (for the funeral of Yitzhak Rabin) – was unlikely to do so again, as Israel might use any such visit to bolster its international image (God forbid). And the heir to the throne did not respond to a fresh invitation, last week, from President Peres – in town to receive an honorary knighthood from the Queen at Buckingham Palace – despite having said that it was his lifelong dream to visit the grave of his grandmother (Prince Philip’s mother), on the Mount of Olives (I suppose that cash flow could be an issue for the Prince, in these recessionary times).

In view, especially, of Britain’s deep, problematic involvement in the history of this Land (the effects of which are still felt here), the Royal reticence towards Israel does the Family a disservice and Israel a dishonour.

With the man’s penchant for international recognition, it was never going to happen, but President Peres should have politely declined this dishonourable knighthood.

No One Likes Us: Why We Shouldn’t Care

“No one likes us, no one likes us, no one likes us, we don’t care . . .”

So sing fans of Millwall Football Club, in South East London, who, yes, it is true, no one likes. If they weren’t such scum, however, there would be something rather admirable about their attitude . . . an attitude I share when it comes to being Jewish and a Zionist (still).

I often talk to my cousin on the phone in the mornings, to alleviate the tedium of my drive to work (though the monotony is often broken anyway by some Israeli nutter, holding his mobile in one hand and a ciggie in the other, who – with one leg on the dashboard, and without indicating – swerves across three lanes of traffic in one fell swoop). Marc still listens to the BBC Wind-up Service on his way to work, and never ceases to be antagonised by the anti-Israel, Islamophilic propaganda served up most mornings (since when did the average ‘Beeb’ listener become so interested in documentaries about, inter alia, lesbian suicide bombers in Aden?)

My policy has long been not to listen to, or read, such media. It always just brought me down. Their purveyors are not going to change. Nor am I. And nor are most of the other listeners to and readers of the BBC Wind-up Service and The Guardian, etc, who do so precisely because such media reinforce and legitimise (or so they think) their bitter, warped, Jew-hating – oft cunningly veiled as mere Israel-hating (as if that is okay) – view of the world. Quite frankly (and apologies to my mother’s friends, some of whom I believe read this blog), I feel that – now that I am living in Israel – they can all go and f*ck themselves (though they could have done so before, too).

Israel has to put its own interests first. It is dog-eat-dog in this (mental) part of the world. And Israel cannot always afford to worry about what everyone else thinks – never mind some sex-starved single-mother in Stoke Newington, who just happens to have taken a dislike to those weirdos in their black gabardines “down Woolworths” – before acting (poisonous Persian dwarf in your M&S jacket [see Virginal Meanderings], take note).

Jews know only too well what happens when they wait for the world to act. And we have seen, since then, what we can do when forced, and in a position, to take care of ourselves. But, like Israelis and their tea, the world doesn’t like its Jews too strong.

We shouldn’t give a hoot, therefore, about Ken “you are just like a concentration camp guard” Livingstone, George “I never took a penny from Saddam” Galloway, David “From Toe Job to No Job” Mellor, or any of their ilk. I wear it as a badge of honour that such miscreants would not appear to be particularly fond of us.

You see . . . Leeds and Millwall fans can find common ground, after all.

Perversions

Sheinkin Street, in the heart of Tel Aviv, is arguably the most common symbol of secular, modern Israel, with trendy youngsters from all over the country converging on its chic boutiques every Friday morning. Even Sheinkin, however, could not have been prepared for what it witnessed yesterday evening.

Whilst out with my dogs, I noticed a man of about forty slowly walking down the street in a pair of tightish, silky running shorts, while two teenage girls, sitting on a wall, laughed hysterically. I then noticed (one couldn’t help but) that – how should I put it – the man was in a heightened state of arousal. Having passed the girls, he turned around and walked past them once again. There was something so sickening about the display that it shook even me – with my background in criminal defence law (and the various perverts to whom I was unavoidably, excuse the pun, exposed) – to the very core. I looked for a police officer, but to no avail.

Following such a distasteful experience, I wouldn’t have imagined that anything else could have disturbed my equilibrium further yesterday evening . . . until I opened my copy of Ha’aretz, that is.

Ha’aretz is Israel’s equivalent of The Guardian – left-wing, (supposedly) highbrow, and often unjustifiably self-righteous. I read the English version rather than its right-wing competitor, The Jerusalem Post, not because I share its political and social leanings (I am somewhere in-between the two), but because it feels more genuinely ‘Israeli’. Reading The Jerusalem Post is often like reading Britain’s parochial Jewish Chronicle . . . and I didn’t come here for that.

The next perversion to disturb my post-work tranquility was the reason (as reported by Ha’aretz) of Ismail Haniyeh, Hamas leader in Gaza, for the movement’s boycott of talks with rival West Bank faction, Fatah, scheduled to begin in Cairo yesterday. He is apparently protesting the 400 Hamas activists held in West Bank jails. Is this the same Ismail Haniyeh who has been holding Israeli soldier, Gilad Shalit, now 22, for 869 days?!

And did even one of the eleven European parliamentarians – including, I am ashamed to say, nine from the British Isles, among them former cabinet minister, Clare Short – who had sailed from Cyprus to Gaza, as a show of solidarity to Gazans, pick Haniyeh up on this? You can bet not. They probably just lapped it all up, the muppets that they are.

The final perversion, and somehow the most sickening, lay in wait, somewhat surprisingly, on Ha’aretz’s sports page. In a self-indulgent article on his participation (who cares?!) in last weekend’s Tel Aviv half marathon, Palestinian Affairs correspondent, Avi Issacharoff, juxtaposed Tel Aviv’s “beautiful and young” with those in “Jerusalem where everyone looks nervous, ugly and old”. In its mindless intolerance and offensiveness (not to mention stupidity) – in relation to the population of an entire city, no less (a third of whom are Muslims . . . I am sure he wouldn’t have wanted to offend them) – this resembled something out of Der Stürmer.

Where I do agree with you, however, Mr. Issacharoff, is in your conclusion – you are, indeed, “an idiot” . . . but not because you ran 21 kilometers.

Why I am not happy about a black President

“I don’t know whether I’m happy about Obama”, my friend Rachel, a fellow Brit, informed me this morning as we walked our dogs down Rothschild Boulevard, “but it’s great that there will be a black President”.

Why is it so “great”? And why should we be happy?

There has never been a turquoise President. And I wouldn’t be shouting from the rooftops if one of those got elected. Nor has there been a Hispanic/Latino (they outnumber African Americans in the US), Asian, or Native American President.

Would I particularly want a Jewish President? I wasn’t doing cartwheels of joy when Al Gore selected Joe Lieberman as his running mate in 2000, not because Lieberman isn’t a good man or wouldn’t have done a good job, but because we Jews are always rather reticent about having other Jews in highest public office. There was a hushed sigh of relief from many British Jews when Michael Howard resigned as leader of the Conservative Opposition in 2005, and a further one when Sir Malcolm Rifkind dropped out of the race to replace him.

Many of the rumours surrounding Obama – that he is a Muslim, for example (not that there would be anything wrong with that, some of my best friends are . . . well, not really, but I did fall for one last year!) – would appear to be just that.

If, however, there is any truth in the suggestion that large portions of his election funds came from shady Middle Eastern sources, then I don’t want a black President.

If Obama’s private views echo those of black Jew-haters like Louis Farrakhan, or even Jesse Jackson or Spike Lee, then I don’t want a black President.

Or if Obama, after taking office, fails to distinguish between the dreams of the large majority of Israelis, to live in peace alongside their Arab neighbours, and those of the large majority of those neighbours, of Israelis floating in the Mediterranean, then I don’t want a black President.

The jury is out. Let’s judge the man on his actions.