The real Zionists

In the past week, every media outlet ran at least one item about "Tel Aviv's euphoria." All ran photos of coffee shops filled to capacity, people looking content, a yuppie decisively saying he could care less, a tree-hugger softly commenting that she feels for the soldiers.

The media's tendency to generalize and categorize and cover patterns instead of phenomena is not new. This time, however, self-loathing reached new heights.

Why shouldn't people sit in coffee shops? Why should the overwhelming majority of Israelis be glued to TV screens instead of living their lives during the pullout? Did we do something wrong? Did a war break without our knowledge? And why must there be a direct link between sipping an espresso and political indifference?

We can debate the plan's pros and cons and discusss the ettlers and evacuators while having a salad. There is no need to be in Gush Katif; we can discuss topics other than the pullout.

Indeed, we can showing interest in what goes on in this crazy country of ours without losing our composure. Instead of encouraging normative behavior, we are slammed by none other than the "hostile media" that chose to embrace the evacuees.

The media's implied reprimend appeared to suggest that if one is not barricaded on a synagogue's rooftop, insulting and hurting the evacuating forces,  one doesn't care, has no values, and isn't a true Zionist.

Yet the truth is that we are the real Zionists. We are the guardians of democracy, not the insane bunch on the roofs. We are the sane voice that keeps the country going through a passing mini-crisis. After all, in a week or so everyone will go out for coffee, trade in the stock market, send the kids to school, and go back to the daily routines.

Had we acted as apparently expected of us, the entire country would have been shut down and nobody would be showing up for work.

Me and those like me – law abiding citizens – are the average Israelis. When we're told to move, we move. When we are evicted from our homes, we leave. It doesn't matter if it is due to a government decision, the bank's decision, or the landlord's decision – the result is the same: We do what we are told.

When a police officer tells us to do this or that, he doesn't hug or comfort. In a good-case scenario, he explains to us why. In a bad-case scenario, he yells or hits. When we encounter government injustice or inefficiency we vent, yet we do not paralyze the entire country.

We, the indifferent, are also obedient.

Not to mention the taxes we pay with little to show for it. I, too, want police escort from the parking lot to and from my house; I too wanted help in moving yet I was slapped with a fine; I too want governmental assistance yet the health budget was cut.

By the way, if they had visited coffee shops in the southern town of Dimona or Kiryat Shmona in the north, they'd see those are crowded too. Because anyone who removes himself from Gush Katif immediately regains his sanity.

You should start worrying when Tel Aviv coffee shops are empty; that will truly mean judgment day is here. Once Tel Aviv is deserted, it will be a sure sign the country is collapsing.