Religious-Zionist Nakba

Despite recent traumas, the settlers should be asking themselves some questions

Yossi Elituv |Published: 03.01.06 , 07:59

The new style of preaching that has characterized the settler camp of late has made many uncomfortable and inspired more than a little amazement. The trauma of Gush Katif and the violent clash with security forces at Amona have deepened feelings amongst many religious-Zionists that the community is under attack, raising feelings of self-righteousness a level of being holy and pure.

The struggle to burn these incidents into the Israeli consciousness in the hope they won't repeat themselves has dragged a large part of the community into a black hole. It has turned every settler child into a mourner, every schoolgirl into a prophet of doom.

People for whom hope and optimism once embroidered their ideology are now exporters of frustration and bitterness.

No one makes light of the trauma settlers and their supporters are experiencing: ideas have crumbled, a dream life has been blown apart and thousands expelled from their homes.

The brutal eviction from Amona only exacerbated this trend. And who knows, maybe the Knesset inquiry into the incident may yet reveal just who the moron was who instructed riot police to brutally crack the skulls of teenagers.

Harsh experience

There is no question that the settlers' experience over the past seven months has been cruel and they have been subject to scorn.

Still, there is room to object openly to the tribal, insular retreat. Disappointment has become the community's road map, as shown by the odes to destruction currently being written in yeshivas and girls high schools, by a public that could have been expected to react differently.

The terminology adopted by many settler groups is sometimes even rebellious. Any one reading the opinion pieces in the weekly Shabbat newsletters or listening to conversations at synagogues around the country will be amazed at the torrent of images and ornamentation that have sprouted from the ruins of the six destroyed houses at Amona.

Buchenwald to Amona

From Buchenwald to Kishniev, the revulsion of all horror stories is connected in some way to the leaders of those riot police.

Stories abound about what they did to Amona's Jews, and children in the towns of Ofra and Bet El draw pictures and sing songs for the pogrom survivors.

The drive to turn Amona into a watershed incident could well give the right-wing bloc another seat or two in the upcoming elections. There is no question that Effie Eitam's stories and the sound of horses trampling kids will drive this campaign until the polls close on March 28.

Asking questions

Still, questions must be asked. Is there anything to gain from retreating inward and sanctifying the position of being pursued?

Even if, at the end of the day, the right's spin masters manage to turn the Gaza and Amona evictions into a "Nakba" for the knitted-kipa world (a reference to the Arabic word for "tragedy", used to describe Israel's creation) and manage to get Gila Finkelstein re-elected to the Knesset – would the price for this moral avalanche not be too high?

And perhaps there is also room to bring up other questions. For example, how could it be that thousands of Gush Katif residents, living out of boxes and many of whom have yet to find shelter, who have been marginalized in the public eye, who are in pain and tears – how is it possible that they have not managed to arouse one ounce of empathy from ordinary Israelis?

Help for the Gaza residents comes mainly from Green Line residents who share similar views; their cries have not managed to penetrate out of the religious ghetto.

This could be the saddest part of the settlement story that once stood at the center of the national consensus but has been pushed to a remote corner, humiliated and shamefaced, waiting for redemption.

Anti-Semites

The near-total lack of concern for the suffering of others says a lot, first and foremost about the people who fail to show concern. But it also tells a lot about the world view of the estranged.

The orange brigades say the phenomenon is due to anti-Semitism. "They" hate Israel, the media is assimilationist.

But are they doing themselves any service by viewing the situation as a war between light and darkness?

It would certainly seem that apathy towards the suffering of other members of one's own nation has its roots in anti-Semitism. If you like, call it religious hatred.

But how many anti-Semites live here – a million? Two? Three? Is everyone anti-Semitic?

Shas anti-religious?

At a recent planning meeting, a senior Shas Party official proposed featuring visits by party chairman Eli Yishai to Gush Katif just before the withdrawal.

The proposal was rejected out of hand: Our voters don't like the connection.

Are Shas voters also anti-religious? Did not hundreds of thousands of traditional Israelis disengage from you, long before the government disengaged you from your homes?

Soul searching

Someone here has got to stand up and give some answers. How is it possible that in Israel, 2006, "settlement" has become a dirty word, and "settlers" have become foreigners?

Whining and targeting riot police will only deepen feelings of being cut off and will prevent the right questions from being asked.

In business, when managers manage to turn a popular, well-liked brand name into a hated, reviled one, people are called to account. Answers must be given. Blaming others is not acceptable.

Here, too, answers must be given. Could it be the settlement movement has become arrogant and self-important? Maybe, just maybe, the community has developed a language foreign to the majority of Israelis and has placed too much focus on building settlements, to the exclusion of other Jewish values.

Every explanation must be examined against the facts, but it would be good if these good people, who have many strong points in their favor, undertake a process of honest soul searching.