army

Helping Israel’s lone soldiers

MK Michal Cotler-Wunsh, right, with Michal Berman, chief executive officer of the Lone Soldier Centre in Memory of Michael Levin, and Jerusalem Mayor Moshe Leon at the inauguration ceremony in August of a new home for female lone soldiers in Jerusalem. (photo by Yossi Zamir)

Michal Cotler-Wunsh was an 18-year-old new immigrant from Canada when she enlisted for the Israel Defence Forces some 30 years ago. Unlike most of her fellow recruits, she had no home to go to on weekends.

“I was a ‘lone soldier,’ without close family in Israel. There was no real framework that supported us – but much has changed since then, as this matter has become more acute,” she said.

Now a Knesset member (as a representative of the Blue and White coalition faction led by Benny Gantz), Cotler-Wunsh has taken up the welfare of the more than 6,300 lone soldiers lacking family in the country: immigrants, volunteers, orphans and youths estranged from their families.

“In retrospect, serving in the army was the most amazing exposure to Israeli society in many ways,” said Cotler-Wunsh, whose father Irwin Cotler was Canada’s minister of justice and attorney general from 2003 to 2006. “I did a squad leaders course and served in a very ragged anti-tank base at Nitsanim. The company slept in tents and went on marches in the dunes.”

The army gave her rent support and, on weekends, she stayed in a room in a Jerusalem apartment. “I lived with an elderly man who usually went away on weekends, so I was alone in the apartment,” she said. “To this day, I have connections with people from the Machane Yehuda market, especially the owner of the marzipan shop and the Tzidkiyahu delicatessen. These two would prepare boxes of food for lone soldiers at the end of Friday business, and we would get to Jerusalem after everything was already closed, go through the market and take the boxes of food prepared for Shabbat. To this day, I don’t forget them and they don’t forget me.”

Beyond material needs, she recalled the psychological hardship of being far from home.

“I know how important it is for lone soldiers to have their parents accompany them,” said Cotler-Wunsh, who served in the days before digital communication. “One aspect that has changed is parents’ involvement in day-to-day matters. Nowadays, it’s possible to convey to the lone soldiers’ parents a reality that they do not understand – and there’s no chance that they will understand – but they’re very concerned about. This communication calms both them and the lone soldier throughout their military service.”

“Lone soldiers need somewhere to live, a hot meal on Friday night … things other soldiers take for granted,” Michal Berman, chief executive officer of the Lone Soldier Centre in memory of Michael Levin, a nonprofit organization that looks after their welfare.

The LSC, established in memory of an American immigrant soldier killed in the 2006 Second Lebanon War, currently operates nine apartment homes, offering low-rent housing to about 100 soldiers in Jerusalem, Petach Tikva, Herzliya and Ramat Hasharon, as well as social clubs catering to about 1,000 soldiers in Tel Aviv, Jerusalem and Be’er Sheva. Only financial restraints are preventing the opening of more facilities and programs.

Beyond the social-psychological aspects, soldiers’ needs are often prosaic. “They need basic things like clean underwear, a toaster, somebody to look after them when they are sick,” Berman explained. “We have hundreds of volunteers who cook and do their laundry for them – many of them former lone soldiers or others immigrants.”

The organization’s staff also provide advice on how to navigate Israel’s bureaucracy, and attend military ceremonies, taking the place of their parents who cannot be there. “They say this means the world to them,” Berman said.

photo - MK Michal Cotler-Wunsh — MK Michal Cotler-Wunsh *(photo by Avishai Finkelstein)*

“The difficulties continue beyond their army service,” noted Cotler-Wunsh, who returned to Canada after studying law at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. “After 13 years in Israel and with a small baby, for the first time in my life I missed my family. I was pregnant with my second child and also wanted to do a second degree, at McGill University, and took the opportunity to be close to my parents.”

She returned to Israel 10 years later with four children and pursued a legal career that led her to the Knesset, where she has taken up a host of social issues, including the welfare of lone soldiers before, during and after their service.

“Nowadays, when they do have a support system, the loneliness hasn’t disappeared – it’s just been postponed. It’s harder when you’re used to an all-embracing system then, suddenly, to find yourself really alone. In any case, getting out of the army is a shock. For a lone soldier, it’s even harder to go from a hierarchic system to being an independent citizen who has to make decisions that will affect their life. That’s part of the reason why so many young Israelis go traveling after their army service.”

Over the High Holidays, the LSC is launching a global crowdfunding campaign to help lone soldiers get through the toughest time of their lives. For more information, visit charidy.com/lsc.

Daniel Ben-Tal was a lone soldier serving as a paratrooper before becoming a journalist. Over three decades he has penned hundreds of articles in a host of journals and websites around the world. Formerly an editor at the Jerusalem Post and the English version of Haaretz, he is now an Israel-based freelance writer, editor and translator.

Reflections of a lone soldier

Joel Chasnoff spoke at a Zoom event presented by Jewish National Fund of Canada on June 1 and he’ll speak at a CHW Montreal Zoom event on June 21. (photo from APB Speakers)

Michael Levin grew up in Philadelphia, joined the Israel Defence Forces as a lone soldier and died in a battle with Hezbollah in southern Lebanon in 2006. At that time, most Israelis weren’t familiar with the concept of a lone soldier – a legal term for a volunteer, usually (but not always) from outside Israel, who enlists to defend the Jewish state.

Levin’s death at 22 came just days after he returned hastily from his leave back home in the United States when he learned of the start of the Second Lebanon War. He flew back to Israel, hitched a ride to his platoon in Lebanon and took up the fight against the Iranian-backed terrorists. He was killed in an intense firefight in the Hezbollah-controlled village of Aita al-Shaab.

His grieving mother, Harriet Levin, was concerned that her son’s funeral would not have a minyan to say Kaddish and so, on arriving in Israel, she asked a few people to come to the military cemetery to ensure a proper Jewish burial. On her way to Mount Herzl, traffic was so congested she feared she would be late for her son’s funeral but, when she did get there, she discovered that the few people she had asked to spread the appeal for a minyan had shared the news widely. Media picked it up and more than 10,000 Israelis showed up to pay their respects.

It was a turning point in the Israeli consciousness, according to Joel Chasnoff.

Chasnoff is a stand-up comedian and writer who shared his own story of leaving his Chicago-area home two decades ago to become a lone soldier. In a Zoom event presented by Jewish National Fund of Canada June 1, Chasnoff, who now lives in Israel, spoke of the changing understanding of lone soldiers – and his reflections on now being the father of soldiers. A decade ago, he chronicled his experiences as an IDF volunteer in the book The 188th Crybaby Brigade: A Skinny Jewish Kid from Chicago Fights Hezbollah.

Today, lone soldiers are a better understood phenomenon in Israel and supports are in place that were not when Chasnoff volunteered in 1997. There is now a network of Lone Soldiers Centres – commonly called Michael Levin Centres – around Israel, to help overseas volunteers adapt and smooth their way to a successful integration, coordinate holiday and Shabbat homestays and deal with the myriad complications that arise for a newcomer to Israel.

Chasnoff shared comedic experiences, including the challenge of proving he was indeed a lone soldier without Israeli parents, when government officials insisted that Levin’s father had never left Israel after his first visit in 1976. The stakes were basic – a lone soldier’s salary at the time was $160 a month instead of $80, plus a few privileges. But it required a sheath of documents from the States to prove that his father was indeed an Illinoisan, not an Israeli.

“Never mind that he had raised me in the U.S. and I have a very strong and good relationship with my dad. The Israelis believed that my dad was actually living in Israel the whole time and I was just trying to pretend that I was a lone soldier to get the extra $80 a month,” Chasnoff said.

His decision to join the IDF was sparked by a visit to Israel as a teenager.

“I got off the plane,” he said, “and, you know, you’re 17, your hormones are raging. What’s the first thing you notice being a teenager coming to Israel? How beautiful the Israelis are. The women were all tan and fit, the men were these hunks with muscles and crew cuts. It’s so odd because they have the same roots as we do, right? Except they look like supermodels and we look like Jews. How does that happen? That’s not fair.”

The soldiers he met were just a year older than he was.

“They were 18, and they had machine guns and berets and Ray-Ban sunglasses and forearms like bricks,” said Chasnoff. “And then there was me, slathered in sunscreen, wearing a fanny pack … stuffed with lactose pills.”

One of the eye-opening things Chasnoff discovered about the Israeli army, he said, is how democratic it was.

“I would even say insanely democratic,” he said, noting that soldiers argued about orders and fought with their superiors. “People ask me what’s it like in the Israeli army. I think the best way to describe it is, imagine a bunch of Israelis running an army. That is the Israeli army.”

This is why one of his platoon-mates was a darling among commanders: he didn’t speak Hebrew. The young man was raised in an evangelical Christian home in Oklahoma, but, at a certain age, learned that his mother had converted from Judaism. One thing led to another and he volunteered for the IDF.

“So, they made him a tank gunner,” Chasnoff said, “because, to be a tank gunner, you basically need to know six words – stop, go, left, right, forward, back. Tim was one of the best soldiers in our platoon because he didn’t have the Hebrew to argue back. When the commander would give orders, the guys would argue. Tim, by not having Hebrew, just did what he was told. And was an excellent soldier for that reason and one of our commander’s favourites.”

Unfortunately, a lack of Hebrew can be deadly in moments of military conflict. Chasnoff said some casualties in conflicts in Gaza may have resulted from linguistic challenges and he believes the military is doing a better job ensuring fluency in such situations.

While lone soldiers is a term associated with overseas volunteers, Chasnoff said that about half of the 6,000 lone soldiers are Israelis, mostly Charedim whose volunteer service or other factors estrange them from their families.

While lone soldiers were not so much in the Israeli consciousness a few decades ago, they are now a welcome oddity.

“I think, when you get a lone soldier in your platoon, people are very excited about it,” Chasnoff said. “Everyone wants to bring him or her home to show the family the sort of strange character who came all the way from New York City or Sydney, Australia, or whatever. People are really interested in what motivates them to serve, so they are invited. It’s very, very different than the old days.”

Addressing the broader differences between Israelis and Diaspora Jews, Chasnoff riffed like the comic he is.

“We grow up with this myth that Israelis are, you know, just like us. They are Jews and we are Jews and we’re one big happy family. And then you get to Israel and you realize the Israelis are nothing like the American Jew. They speak their minds. They shout. They argue,” he said. “You’ll never be with an Israeli and wonder to yourself, ‘I wonder what she really thinks about me right now.’ I’m married to an Israeli for 21 years and I can honestly say that once in those 21 years has my Israeli wife apologized to me because, in the Middle East, apologies make you look weak and nobody wants to look weak. We had one huge fight where she actually apologized and it wasn’t even a real apology, it was an Israeli apology: she came up to me a few days later and said, ‘Yoeli, motek, I am sorry you’re such an idiot.’”

He also has plenty of material about growing up Jewish in America.

“My mom was actually one of these Jewish mothers who – let’s be honest – they have a special ability to worry about every situation,” he said. “You give them any scenario, they will figure out the potential thing that could hurt you in that scenario.”

For their annual family visit to Texas to see his paternal grandparents, Chasnoff’s mother would book the family on two separate flights so that, if a plane went down, the entire family wouldn’t be lost.

“That’s a typical Jewish upbringing,” he said.

When his zaidie gave him a jersey with the number of his favourite player and his own name, Joel, on the back, Chasnoff’s mother refused to let him wear it outside the house because a stranger would know his name.

“And, because he knew my name, I would think he knew me, so I would go with him,” he said. “You know why? Because I’m an idiot. That’s why there are no Jewish athletes. Not that we’re bad at sports, our mothers won’t let us wear the jersey.”

Readers will have another chance to hear Chasnoff speak this month. CHW Montreal is hosting a Zoom BBQ with the comedian on Father’s Day, June 21, at noon, Pacific time. Visit facebook.com/chwmontreal and click on Events for details. Funds raised benefit hospital workers at the Shamir Medical Centre and Hadassah Hospital in Israel.

The draft: a dad reflects

February 2015

Collected the mail this morning. A few flyers and bills. And my son’s draft notice. A quick double take. A flashback to my son playing with plastic dinosaurs. Then I texted my wife, “It’s here.”

A few hours later, my son came home. “How was school? There’s a letter for you on the table.” Opening it, and with a surprising degree of nonchalance, he said, “My call-up.” As if going into the army was an ordinary occurrence. “Ah, yeah. It’s here.”

A few days later, I asked D if I could post a picture of his call-up on Facebook. “Dad, you can’t post this stuff. It’s, like, confidential.” Duh. Of course.

May 2015

Picked my son up from Jerusalem. He was there for a series of pre-army tests. He couldn’t stop talking about the cute chayelet (army girls). Teenagers!

October 2015-January 2016

D interviewed for various roles in different divisions. None of interest. He wants something air force-specific. My wife and I helped him with a letter to the IAF manpower division. Emphasized

his aircraft knowledge. His love of plane simulators. (How many times did we catch him “flying” instead of doing his homework?) His flying lesson (a 17th birthday gift).

February-March 2016

Silence.

April 2016

The air force came knocking. Another interview. Another psychometric test. D felt he aced this one (pun intended).

May 2016

Text message from the Israeli Air Force. Accepted. Not the specific role he wanted but within his window of satisfaction. Excitement. Trepidation. The air force is the darling of the military. Best conditions. High-tech environment. Much to my son’s amusement, I don’t really understand what he’ll be doing.

July 2016

D called me at the office. Draft date pulled in. “Dad, we need to change our holiday plans – three weeks and I’m in.” New York will have to wait. Improvising, we quickly made other travel arrangements. A week later, we were in northern Italy. My son a reluctant traveler. He’d rather be home with his friends sharing the excitement of the draft.

August 2016

Took D for a buzz cut. His beautiful golden locks. Gone. I also had a buzz cut. My less beautiful grey locks. Gone. Solidarity.

We threw a draft bash. Lots of friends and family. I toasted: “We are celebrating your draft … into the world’s best air force…. I can’t tell you how proud we are…. You obtained a role – and I still don’t get it – that is meaningful and challenging, with great responsibility and opportunity. Embrace it. Be safe and strong. Keep us safe and strong. D, sweet child of mine. May God make you like Ephraim and Menashe … and establish peace for you.”

Draft day, 2016

We traveled in two cars. My wife. Our daughter. My mother-in-law. D’s friends. His girlfriend. And, of course, the cadet. We arrived at the induction centre at 0800 hours. Despite living in Israel for more than 22 years, I’m still amazed by the informality. Sometimes disguised as chaos. My Canadian self still says lines. Order. Please. Excuse me. The security appeared to be in disarray. Then I remembered I’m on an army base. Umm … can’t get more secure than that.

Hundreds of young recruits. Balagan. Israeli flags waving overhead. Old ladies passing out amulets with the prayer for the Israeli army. Sephardi grandmothers spraying water into the crowd to wash away the evil eye.

Much too quickly my son’s name was called. Won’t forget the apprehensive “I guess it’s my turn” look on his face. Nor the tears flowing from my wife’s almond-shaped eyes. Nor the tears flowing from my daughter’s green eyes. Nor my mother-in-law’s “shouldn’t there be peace by now?” hunched and saddened look. I took D aside. Covered his head with my hand. Recited the blessing for a son. Then, like at a beach party, his friends hoisted him on their shoulders. Carried him forward. Innocence. Bravado. Another generation coming of age in Israel.

He walked the final distance alone. Oversized backpack. Buzz cut. Excitement. Trepidation. Then disappeared into the military transport and his next three years. Actually, two years and eight months, but who’s counting.

Bruce Brown has been living in Israel for a long time and is the proud father of two Sabras, one currently a sergeant in the Israeli Air Force.

קנדה מעוניית לרכוש מל”טים

איתן, מטוס ללא טייס על בסיס הרון טיפי, חיל האוויר הישראל, יום העצמאות 2017. (צילום: MathKnight and Zachi Evenor)

התעשייה האווירית (תע”א) של ישראל משתתפת במכרז חדש של הצבא הקנדי שיפורסם במהלך החודשים הקרובים, לאספקת מטוסים ללא טייס (מל”טים) שהיקפו נאמד בלמעלה ממיליארד דולר. בתע”א החליטו לחבור לצורך ההשתתפות במרכז עם חברה הקנדית אל.3 מאס (שמושבה בקוויבק) לאספקת טכנולוגיות, תקשורת, אינטגרציה של מערכות והשבחת מטוסים. החברה הקנדית היא זו שתוביל את הההצעה המשותפת למכרז.

המכרז של הצבא הקנדי נועד לאפשר רכישת מל”טים גדולים כולל המערכות הנלוות, במהלך ארבע השנים הקרובות. המל”טים הגדולים מתאימים לקנדה בשל שטחה הגדול ומזג האוויר הקר השורר בה במרבית עונות השנה. הצבא הקנדי מעוניין ברכישת כלי טיס מסוג זה בעיקר לטיפול בהברחות מעבר לקנדה (בדרך כלל מדובר בסמים ובכלי נשק), וכן להגן על נתיב אזור השיט הצפוני (המחבר בין האוקיינוס האטלנטי לאוקיינוס הפאסיפי). המל”טים יוכלו לשמש את הצבא הקנדי גם במשימות אזוריות ורחוקות בהשתתפות צבאות נוספים.

מול ההצעה של קבוצת תע”א ואל.3 מאס צפוייה להתמודד הצעה אמריקנית של ג’נרל אטומיקס, הנחשבת למתחרה קשה של התעשייה האווירית הישראלית. עם זאת, יתכן ולאור התקררות ביחסים בין קנדה לארה”ב, בשל התנהלותו של הנשיא דונלד טראמפ, לא מן הנמנה שהצבא הקנדי יעדיף הצעה משותפת קנדית-ישראלית על זו האמריקנית.

יצויין כי הצבא הקנדי שכר בעבר מל”טים קטנים (במשקל 1.2 טון) מתע”א. מל”טים אלה פעלו בשטחי אפגניסטן ולאחר מכן הוחזרו לתע”א.

קמפיין להחרמת מוצרים מארה“ב לאור התבטאויותיו של טראמפ נגד קנדה

אזרחים קנדים התחילו להתעורר סוף סוף ולהשיב מלחמה כנגד ההתבטאויות החמורות של נשיא ארצות הברית, דונלד טראמפ, כנגד בקנדה, שהתגברו מאוד בשבועות האחרונים.

הקנדים החליטו לראשונה לנהל קמפיין להחרמת מוצרים מארה”ב הנמכרים בחנויות השונות בהן ברשתות השיווק, בחנויות למכירת אלכוהול. כן מדובר על החרמת רשתות אמריקניות הפועלות בקנדה כמו מקדונלד’ס, וולמרט וסטארבקס. במקביל יציאה לחופשות בארה”ב תוחלף בחופשות מקומיות בקנדה, או במקומות אחרים בעולם. הקמפיין זוכה לגיבוי נרחב ברשתות החברתיות. אזרח מקומי בשם סקוט צ’מברלין, רכש מוצרים בסופרמרקט כאשר אף אחד מהם לא מיוצר בארה”ב. הוא העלה לרשת תמונה של סל המוצרים וכינה את את מה שקנה “סל ללא טראמפ”.

ראש ממשלת קנדה, ג’סטין טרודו, הגיב במהלך הדיונים בפרלמנט על הקמפיין החדש נגד ארה”ב. טרודו אמר בין היתר: “בימים האחרונים יש אווירה פטריוטית בקנדה”. כל שנותר הוא לקוות שקנדים רבים יצטרפו אל הקמפיין החשוב ויחרימו מוצרים אמריקנים בעידן טראמפ.

הבנק הקנדי סקוטיה בנק פרסם תחזית כלכלית קודרת לאור מלחמת הסחר – עליה הכריז טראמפ. לפי התחזית טראמפ במעשיו יגרום להשפעה שלילית על הכלכלות של ארה”ב, קנדה ומקסיקו. בינתיים נרשמות ירידות בבורסות של צפון אמריקה שאינן אוהבות בלשון של המעטה את מה שטרמפ עושה, ומה שהוא עושה זה בעצם לערער את הציבות הכלכלית בכל העולם.

בממשלה הקנדית לא מבינים כיצד יוטלו המכסים החדשים של טראמפ על יצור מכוניות בקנדה. הרי בהליך יצור והרכבת המכוניות הן עוברות בין ארה”ב לקנדה, בן שש לשבע פעמים. גורם בממשלה הקנדית שאל האם המכס יוטל על המכוניות בפעם הראשונה, השנייה, השלישית, הרביעית, החמישית או השישית?

טראמפ מתברר מתחיל לגרום נזק גם לחברות טכנולוגיות אמריקניות, לאור החלטתו לאכוף מכסים חדשים בין היתר על סין. המניה של אינטל למשל נפגעה קשות מהתנהלותו של טראמפ, כיוון שהכנסותיה בסין הסתכמו אשתקד בלא פחות מ-14.8 מיליארד דולר.

Being a woman in the IDF

From left to right, Staff Sgt. Maya, Sgt. Noam and Brigadier General (Res.) Gila Klifi-Amir at a Friends of the Israel Defence Forces program April 3 in New York City. (photo by Shiryn Ghermezian)

Israel’s female soldiers seem to break barriers on a consistent basis. In January, new figures revealed that the number of women serving in combat roles in the Israel Defence Forces’ Homefront Command is up 38% this year. Last month, the IDF launched a pilot program in which women will be trained as tank operators for the first time.

Indeed, the Jewish state takes pride in being an oasis for gender equality in a Mideast region largely bereft of women’s rights, and this attitude extends to Israel’s military. At the same time, for a nation facing ever-present security threats both internally and on its borders, gender equality has its limits.

“The mission of the army is to protect and win. We need to understand that the mission of the army is not equal opportunity,” Brigadier General (Res.) Gila Klifi-Amir, who has had a 30-year career with the IDF and served as an adviser on women’s issues to the military’s chief of staff, said April 3 in New York City.

Klifi-Amir moderated a discussion with three female Israeli soldiers – Sgt. Noam, Staff Sgt. Maya and Staff Sgt. Y, whose full names were withheld for security reasons – in a program hosted by the Young Leadership Division of Friends of the Israel Defence Forces, a nonprofit whose mission is “to provide for education and well-being” of IDF soldiers.

The soldiers on the panel all told JNS.org they have never felt discrimination for being a woman in the military, and that their male counterparts treat them with respect. Y described the interactions as “very, very professional,” and Maya – who commands an infirmary at her battalion’s headquarters – explained, “We train with the guys, we do everything like them. Inside the unit, everything is the same.”

Israel is the world’s only country where military service is obligatory for women. From ages 18-26, women must serve two years in the military – with some exceptions, such as if they are pregnant. Today, 95% of the IDF’s positions are available to women, according to Klifi-Amir.

Yet “equal opportunity” does not exist in the purest sense, the soldiers said. Klifi-Amir told the crowd she does not believe all military positions should be open for women, depending on the mission. The physical training required for some military roles may be too grueling for a woman’s body, and the IDF is responsible for the life of each soldier, she said.

There is danger in autocracy

Last week, an Israeli artist erected a life-sized golden statue of Israeli Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu in Tel Aviv’s Rabin Square. Reminiscent of the golden calf with its connection to forbidden idolatry, artist Itay Zalait said he was making a statement about freedom of speech in Israel and what he sees as a type of idolatry growing around the man sometimes called King Bibi.

Citizens gathered around the statue, arguing about its meaning and various interpretations. Because the installation was erected without a permit, city officials ordered it removed but, before the artist could do so, it was toppled by a bystander and left laying on its side like the figure of a deposed despot.

In addition to the prime minister’s office, Netanyahu occupies the portfolios of foreign minister, economy minister, minister of regional cooperation and communications minister.

In this latter role, Netanyahu has appointed figures to oversight positions that have allowed them to put a finger on the scale in support of media outlets that are sympathetic to the government. Similarly, American casino magnate Sheldon Adelson bankrolls the newspaper Israel HaYom, which is widely seen as a propaganda machine for Netanyahu.

The Netanyahu government is also seen as threatening the broadcast news sector, having undertaken an effort to replace the state-run broadcaster with a more complimentary version, only to reverse course when it appeared the new agency would also be insufficiently uncritical. Like other politicians in democratic countries, Netanyahu has found some popularity among his supporters by picking fights with the media, including individual reporters who report things unfavorable to the prime minister.

While discourse in Israel remains legendarily vibrant, evidence that the government may be attempting to influence or control aspects of journalistic freedom are rightly drawing deep concern. And this concern is exacerbated by evidence of other tendencies within Israeli society that seem to reflect authoritarian, anti-democratic and discriminatory inclinations.

Education Minister Naftali Bennett is having “ethical rules” drawn up for what university lecturers can and cannot say about politics. Culture Minister Miri Regev has promoted a bill to retroactively cut funding to cultural institutions that do not meet the government’s standard of “loyalty” to the state of Israel.

On a different, but similarly ham-fisted front, there is the attempt to legislate the public broadcast of the muezzin, the five-times-a-day call to Muslim prayer, which begins before dawn. Granted, not everyone is keen to have daily pre-dawn loudspeaker broadcasts, whatever the purpose, but such a move against a religious minority already experiencing myriad forms of discrimination calls into question fundamental issues of multiculturalism and respect for religious freedom and pluralism that need to be addressed.

The rabbinate has also weighed in on a few issues that have outraged progressive and feminist Israelis.

Crediting a 15th-century scholar, the Sephardi chief rabbi Yitzhak Yosef declared that women and yeshivah scholars are forbidden from serving in the Israel Defence Forces or performing national volunteer service. He claimed that women had been permitted to go to war at times in Jewish history, but only to cook and clean. The comments come at a time when Israel has seen a four-fold increase in the number of women combat soldiers and as some segments of the political spectrum and civil society are speaking up against what they see as the unsustainable tradition of military exemptions for the ultra-Orthodox.

Then there is Eyal Karim, who was recently sworn in as chief rabbi of the IDF. During his confirmation hearings, Karim was forced to explain earlier comments that seemed to justify the rape of non-Jewish women during wartime. He apologized, saying that his comments were a theoretical consideration of biblical permissions and prohibitions. Karim has also stated that women should not serve in the IDF, or sing at army events.

These and other developments have combined with the Netanyahu government’s warm reaction to Donald Trump’s election to raise alarm among some that Israel is on a path similar to the populist, authoritarian phenomenon seen in the United States and much of Europe. In so many ways, Israel’s body politic is sui generis, utterly unlike any other democracy on earth. Yet it should not surprise that what emerges among its closest allies should also find a place among Israelis.

Trump, tweeting from his gold-embossed chambers in Manhattan, is exhibiting plenty of monarchical characteristics. European political upstarts are glorifying strongmen of the past and, in some cases, of the present, in the form of the Russian leader Vladimir Putin. When these sorts of autocratic inclinations arise in Israel, they should be opposed there, just as they should be everywhere.

The story of Miriam Peretz

Those of us who live and work in Israel as journalists and book reviewers for international publications often have to wait until an Israeli bestseller is translated from Hebrew into English. I, for one, am very excited when this occurs, and especially for a biography like Miriam’s Song: The Story of Miriam Peretz (Gefen Publishing House, 2016) by Smadar Shir.

Shirat Miriam was published in Israel in 2011 and became a bestseller, with more than 20,000 copies sold. It is Peretz’s story, as recounted to Shir, who is a prolific author and composer, as well as a senior journalist at the newspaper Yedioth Ahronoth.

Peretz was born in Casablanca, where her family lived until she was 10 years old. In 1963, they immigrated to Israel, initially living in an immigrant camp in Beersheva. After graduating high school, Peretz went to Ben-Gurion University and became a teacher.

When she was 21, she met Eliezer Peretz, who was 31, also Moroccan. They married, and he returned to his work in Sharm el-Sheikh. She eventually joined him there, until the city was evacuated. Meanwhile, she began teaching, and they started their family, ultimately having six children.

In November 1998, Uriel, their 22-year-old son, a Golani (special forces) officer was killed in Lebanon, while in the army. Peretz kept going.

“My husband was overcome with sadness and wouldn’t go to work, but I had no choice but to continue functioning,” she says.

Peretz got a master’s degree in educational administration. Her second son joined the army, while she and her husband continued processing their grief for Uriel. She began visiting schools and military bases to talk about her son.

In 2005, her husband died – only 56 years old. And then, in March 2010, her son, Eliraz, married with four children, was killed while in the army.

In December 2010, then-Israel Defence Forces Chief of General Staff Lt.-Col. Gabi Ashkenazi awarded her a medal of appreciation. He said: “Miriam’s ability to continue to express her deep pain and channel it into a contribution to the education and formation of future generations, serves as an example and model of inspiration for us all.”

The next chapters of Miriam’s Song are told by each of Peretz’s four surviving children.

Miriam left her principal position after 27 years to become a Jerusalem district supervisor with the education ministry. After Miriam’s Song was published in Hebrew, Peretz began to travel to the United States for the organization Friends of the Israel Defence Forces. In 2014, she was a torchbearer on Israel Independence Day.

For a feature on International Women’s Day this year in the Jerusalem Post, Peretz was interviewed and photographed along with two other mothers who had each lost a son. Journalist Tal Ariel Amir writes, “these three courageous women have risen from the ashes of their despair.”

People ask what it is like to live in Israel. Although Miriam’s Song is replete with courage, faith and commitment, it is also about tragedy and sacrifice. It is a book to read to understand what it means to be a woman, a wife, a mother in Israel today.

Sybil Kaplan is a journalist, foreign correspondent, lecturer, food writer and book reviewer who lives in Jerusalem. She also does the restaurant features for janglo.net and leads weekly walks in English in Jerusalem’s market.