Aliyah Committee, Amton Newsletter — December 2001

The Death of an Illusion By Paula Feinstein Friedland

When thinking about the current situation in Israel, it is difficult to express just how difficult this past year has been. It is as if six million Israelis have been unwillingly made part of a game of Russian roulette, aware that the next shot could be fired at any moment, yet never knowing whose life will be taken, whose family devastated. For over a year now, every man, woman and child has been living with the constant fear that someone we love might not survive a mundane trip to the local pizza parlor, the mall or a discotheque.

Equally terrible, however, has been the realization that there is no longer any hope for peace in our time in this tiny corner of the world. As a child of the sixties, I had always believed in the goodness of mankind. This past year has forced me to reexamine my feelings and change my political views. I now know that the Arabs who surround us, and perhaps many who live among us, do not want peace with us, and that I, for one, was naive to believe that they ever did. What the Arabs want is Israel - all of it - from north to south, from east to west. Not once in all the meetings, summits and deliberations, not to mention the military conferences, did the Palestinians present a map or give a sense of what they would settle for, despite the fact that they were offered virtually all of the West Bank and Gaza and half our capital. Not once did Arafat or any of his staff renounce war, renounce terror, clearly stating in Arabic that they would end the fighting upon receipt of that or any territory. Now I finally understand why. The Arabs want all of Jerusalem, our holiest city, all of Tel Aviv, our center of commerce and entertainment, and all of Haifa, my home.

Looking back over the past year, I feel pain - pain that my children have to live in such a threatening world, pain that the Holocaust wasn't the end of all evil, pain that the world can still question the validity of the existence of the State of Israel.

Yet together with the horror and pain of this past year, I have learned to appreciate more than ever the wonderful spirit of the people around me. With all the fear, the real imminent fear, of being blown to pieces, I look with admiration upon the ability of my fellow Israelis to dance at each other’s simchas, to go to the theater and concerts, to travel abroad, to appreciate good friends, good food and a sunny day at the beach.

This past year, a year which will go down in the annals of history, has taught me just how fragile life is and how I must live every day to its fullest. Most importantly, it has reaffirmed my decision to live in Israel and my belief that Israel must, first and foremost, remain a Jewish state.