the exile within

I meet Y for coffee at the Tel Aviv University. The Coffee To Go strike is over, both sides took away all the banners and flyers. The waitresses won - management has signed a collective public document (just short of a contract) that regularises payments from customer tips and other work conditions. Next to us is a mixed group of Arab-speaking students, two girls are wearing the hijab, the others in jeans. Hearing Arabic inside Israel is a constant reminder of my social superiority and cultural inferiority - after all, these guys have a huge advantage over the Jewish students who only speak Hebrew and English. Knowledge of a language opens up a whole world of music, literature, politics, humour… and that it took me 25 years (and for most young Israeli Jews, forever) to start learning Arabic properly is no coincidence. Israeli Palestinians are largely excluded from the social spheres I grew up in: the wealthy suburbs, the culture-dictating city, the trips to Europe, my parents’ state jobs. I was never meant to communicate with Palestinians, it was just not necessary. Not so for them. Workers from the West Bank and Gaza, seeking to escape a crippled economy, could be seen doing the dirty work in many restaurants and building sites in Tel Aviv up until the Oslo Accords of 1993 that have effectively put the lid on free trade between Israel and the Occupied Territories. Hence the huge influx of “illegal” migrants since the mid-nineties till today. Someone’s gotta wash the dishes. Before Oslo, Palestinians from the West Bank and Gaza had to learn Hebrew if they wanted to get regular work. Now, it makes little difference. Language is a very important aspect of the politics of separation. Arab-Jewish relations within Israel are also inevitably affected.

Today I am here to visit Beit Ha’tfutzot - The Diaspora House. Diaspora is a very interesting term. By definition, it is a group of people that are dispersed from their original homeland. So in London you will find an Australian Diaspora - a network of Australian citizens away from their country of origin. Things get sticky when you try applying this to a religious community (whatever cultural or ethnic aspects this community may uphold). Islam originates in the tribes of Arabia, and yet there is no Muslim Diaspora to speak of. There is no homeland for Muslims beyond their country of birth, in the same way that there is no homeland for vegetarians just because vegetarianism originates in ancient India. The idea that there is a Jewish homeland and that it is in Palestine is in fact a relatively recent 19th century idea that is not rooted in Talmudic traditions (the Talmud is a rabbinic commentary on the Old Testament and a set of social codes and practises). Simply put, Zionism is an attempt to link the redemption of the Jewish people in the Land of Israel as described in the Old Testament to modern day nationalism. Therefore, describing the Jewish religious community as a Diaspora, or as a group of people that belongs in a particular part of the world, is not so much an historical statement as a political one.

At reception, I ask for the computer databases. This place is renowned for storing a great deal of information on Jewish communities and lineage, and I’m anxious to see what I can dig up on my own family’s history. The guy says “come, I’ll take you up to the second floor”, and leads me to a key-protected elevator. Inside, he says: “I’m telling you, Americans are just not what they used to be.” That’s kinda random, I think.

“How do you mean?”

“They come here, and we ask them, you guys have hash? And they never do. It’s not like in the old days, you know? So we went next door, there’s some Palestinians working there on site, and they also didn’t have any! I’m telling you, it ain’t easy…”

I thank him as we reach the second floor and walk into the delicious dark of a museum. I guess I got me a free ticket in the bargain, which is just as well because I must have been sick that day in school when they took us here. To reach the computer station, I pace through a large room with an array of miniature synagogues, each encased in glass on its own. The plaques explain the history of each building - many of them were converted from serving as centres for other faiths. One, perhaps it was in Morocco, is now used as a cinema. The variety of architectural styles is almost overwhelming. Indented on the top fringe of the walls are sayings in Hebrew. I copy some of them down:

Behold I have given you today life, and goodness, and evil… and you shall choose goodness.

All is predetermined, and the choice is given.

Three things sustain the world: truth, justice, and peace.

Soon I reach the computer station. A woman behind a counter is talking in English with a heavy Hebrew accent to a foreign man. I find a terminal and sit down. There are some English customs that I always have to unlearn when coming back to Israel, though over the years this alternation has become, luckily, something of a second nature. One such custom is waiting to be served before helping yourself, which is not something we really do in Israel unless there is either a big sign or a bulky security guard blocking our way… The digital archive includes photos, videos, maps, documents… but other than a black and white picture of a Polish village that seems to relate somehow to my grandfather’s family, I find nothing. “This system was only installed two days ago, so maybe it doesn’t have everything”, I hear the assistant explaining to an Australian tourist who later I learn has come here to search for her Jewish origins in South Africa. “You might find more downstairs.” The assistant then turns to me authoritatively: “are you doing ok?”. I explain to her what I came looking for.

“Basically this isn’t the best place to go looking for such information. You know Beit Ariela [Tel Aviv's main library]? Well they have what we call Community Notebooks. That is where everything was recorded - the lives of people in the villages and towns. The Jewish communities, yes, of course. Births, deaths, marriages, everything. Now if you look into something like that you might find some names and even stories, you know, sometimes they found people’s diaries and kept them. Where is your family from?”

“Um, Poland and Russia. I think Warsaw.”

“Yes. And you see? Look at you, you are dark, you have these dark features, the hair. And how come? Because of the matrilineal descent. You know, before that Jews were just like the Muslims - marrying many wives, keeping slaves, it wasn’t a problem. As a man in the patriarchy, you could go and marry whatever woman you fancied, and the children would still be Jewish, because it would pass down through the father. But then they changed it. And you know who are the people who don’t like hearing this kind of thing? The Orthodox. Of course, because they don’t like change, they don’t like to rock the boat. But I say, face the truth. You have to face the truth about yourselves, your history, because it’s the only way to move on, right? Anyway, what happens after the fall of the Muslims in Spain - you know, they divided the kingdom there into principalities, so it was actually easier for the Christians to conquer it again, bit by bit. But under the Muslim rule in Spain Jews were very well off. They were respected and wealthy and everything was fine. The ones in Eastern Europe, they would sell Balkan slaves, send them to the West, because fair skin and blue eyes were a very precious commodity in those days. And they would castrate them first, because, what can you do, Jews have always been specialists when it comes to operations down there, and I’m almost absolutely sure that sometimes, you know, they would keep a few for themselves. What can you do. But after the Muslim rule crumbles - and of course, those Muslims were also very clever, you know? They attacked from Africa but they would wait, they travelled to the shores at night and slowly accumulated on the other side, and then attacked and very quickly spread across the land. Why do you think it’s called Gibraltar? After Jabal Tariq who was the Muslim general who led the forces. Yes, of course. But anyway -”

The Australian woman is visibly vying for attention, and my new-found guide to Jewish history turns to her. With a typically dismissive wave of the hand and a facial expression that perfectly balances impatience and weariness, she says: “if it isn’t working just try another one”, and turns back to me.

“So. Yes, well, after that the rabbis came up with something which I only have respect for, I have to say. Because their daughters would now walk in the streets and they were just not safe. They would get kidnapped and raped a lot during the tumults. So instead of saying - no, we condemn these women - they decided that any children would also be Jewish, automatically. No matter who the father was. And that is the whole origin of the ethnicity, the Jewish ethnicity, because it changed socially.”

“But, I mean, why go exclusively for matrilineal descent, why not do both in a way?

“Well here you come to religious dogma and people not liking changes. It stuck, what can I say. It became the Jewish tradition, for all sorts of reasons. But it’s true that at least when a child is born, you always know who the mother is. This is before DNA and all that. So imagine, if you are a community that is trying to preserve itself - it makes sense! Mixing with other people can be dangerous sometimes.”

Through my low-blood-sugar haze I try to keep track of what my guide is telling me. This woman is pretty amazing. Once she gets busy with another Jewish tourist, I move on to explore the rest of the museum. The exhibits are impressive and informative, but the narratives are often recruited to Zionism in a very obvious and reductive way. On the first floor, there is a long, dark, winding corridor that represents Jewish life in Exile, with only little round stain-glass windows as the preserved flame of philosophy, culture and tradition. At the end of this you reach a big cut-out in the wall in the shape of a Menorah, backlighted brightly by images of tanned men and women working in the fields, flowing rivers and abundant crops. The Land of Israel. The Land of Milk and Honey. The final destination of the Jewish people. Home.