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December 19, 2003
Just a bomb scare
Israelis are used to security.
SHANA MAUER SPECIAL TO THE JEWISH BULLETIN
I guess for you, the security checks and personal weapons are normal,"
noted my brother-in-law while visiting Israel this past fall.
Extensive security measures have long been a ubiquitous presence
in Israeli society. Guards posted at the entrances to grocery stores
and shopping malls are no more noteworthy than store clerks or coffee
purveyors. However, the proliferation of security personnel outside
of every Jerusalem restaurant, bank and theatre is, in fact, relatively
recent. Only in the past three years have we seen a dramatic increase
in the number of random police checkpoints throughout the city,
laboriously stopping every individual car, questioning the driver
and searching the car's trunk.
In the last few weeks, I have noticed a particularly conspicuous
rise in security precautions, as I have returned to one of my old
haunts, the Hebrew University. Since I was last a student at the
Mount Scopus campus in north Jerusalem, the university has instituted
a new, upgraded protocol, requiring all students and staff to present
university identification upon entry to the campus, followed by
passage through a metal detector and mandatory inspection of all
handbags and knapsacks. Now when I leave for class in the morning,
in an effort to arrive on time, I not only have to factor in traffic,
random security checkpoints, delays because of suspicious objects
and the usual morning chaos, but the two tiers of security checks
that I will face upon entering the university. To enter the campus
without university identification, one needs a security permit from
security services, a process that can take half an hour and only
yields one-time clearance.
For me, the new measures are negligible, but in many other cases
security concerns have altered the way Israelis conduct their lives.
Anxious parents are now reluctant to send their children to school
on the buses (considered the frontline of Palestinian terror) and
often reorient their morning commute to enable them to first drop
off their kids. Recently, one of my friends deferred to her husband,
abandoning a manageable and affordable half hour commute to work
on Egged buses in order to travel on private bus lines, which are
considerably more expensive and far less convenient. Others have
simply opted to rely on taxis instead of public transportation,
rationalizing that the extra travel expense is worth their safety
and, more saliently, their peace of mind.
However, a good portion of Israelis, especially children, the elderly
and those at the bottom of the economic totem pole, have no choice
but to board public buses, wondering each day whether their ride
to work, school or the grocery store might end in a blinding explosion,
bringing an abrupt end to the lives of some of the passengers, and
debilitating injuries to most of the others.
A survey was recently released indicating a national decrease in
bus travel. In Tel-Aviv, the Dan bus company reported a 16 per cent
fall in passenger travel over the past two years. But, in Jerusalem,
a poorer city, where fewer people have their own cars or the means
to pay for taxis, there was only a 10 per cent decline in bus travel.
Returning to my brother-in-law's question, I wonder if we are inured
to this culture of security, saturated with guns and checkpoints.
A few weeks ago, just as I was about to enter the food court of
Jerusalem's largest shopping mall, security guards began to block
the entrance, instructing all of the restaurants' patrons and employees
to clear the area. It was apparent that there was a security matter
at hand, but there was a complete absence of hysteria. People filed
out willingly and calmly. Without question, a suspected explosive
found in a shopping mall in most other countries would spell a complete
evacuation and not a little chaos. In Jerusalem, kids left the food
court, seated themselves just metres away from the security guards
and began to focus on their Game Boys and trading cards. The adults
turned to window-shopping nearby and teenagers resorted to the national
pastime, racking up hefty cellphone bills.
So, yes, it seems we do consider all of this normal. In a country
where impatience is a virtue and audacity is lauded, it is nothing
short of astounding that we abide the rigors of security with considerable
discipline, hardly cognizant of our uncharacteristic behavior. In
such matters, Israelis show not a small amount of valor born, sadly,
of excessive habit and despised circumstances.
Shana Rosenblatt Mauer recently began her PhD in English
literature at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, focusing her research
on contemporary American Jewish writers. She contributes articles
to Jewish newspapers throughout North America and has a forthcoming
article in For Generations, a collection of essays on Judaism
and motherhood.
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