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Avigdor Lieberman, Bibi Netanyahu, Htnua, Israel Beitena, Jewish Home, Labour party, Likud, Naftali Benet, Shas, Sheli Yehimovich, Tzippi Livni, Yair Lapid, Yesh Atid

The results of Israel’s general election were not as depressing as expected, although not as good as might have been hoped. Prime Minister Bibi Netanyahu is still firmly in the saddle, but the composition of his coalition government may be radically different from the outgoing one. At this stage, however, there’s no knowing what lies ahead, given Israel’s peculiar and unique political constellation and the inevitable horse-trading that precedes all coalitions. The bottom line seems to be that the population is more or less evenly divided between right and left, and has not shifted still more to the right, as I and others had feared.

The surprisingly large number of seats gained by Yair Lapid’s new ‘Yesh Atid’ (There is a Future) party has served to shuffle the cards in the political pack to a considerable extent. The party whose platform is an amorphous mix of ideas aimed at improving the general situation of Israel’s middle class, even though its leader is himself a very wealthy man, garnered votes from the other parties in the centre of the political spectrum, possibly because Lapid came across as more moderate, more sympathetic and better-looking than the others. He also made fewer mistakes in his campaign, carefully avoiding declaring outright where he stood on such delicate subjects as whether or not he would join a coalition government under Netanyahu (according to some pundits this was the cardinal error made by the Labour party’s leader, Shelly Yehimovich), what should be done about the Palestinian problem, the settlements, and various other thorny issues. What he did say was that the section of the population that has been getting a free ride on the backs of those who perform military service and then struggle to study, go out to work and pay taxes, i.e., the ever-growing ultra-orthodox segment, must be required to share the burdens of living in a modern society and economy. Lapid even presented a detailed programme for gradually incorporating the majority of ultra-orthodox youngsters into the military or some form of national service and eventually getting them into the workforce. This platform obviously appealed to a lot of Israelis. Lapid, who is a newcomer to politics, although his face is familiar to many Israelis from his time as a TV news anchorman, toured Israel’s length and breadth in the course of the last year, speaking to individuals and groups in his efforts to garner support.

The disappointing performance of the Labour party and Tzippi Livni’s Tnua (Movement) party has yet to be explained in full. Both are energetic and eloquent young women. Both had reasonably attractive lists of candidates, but their showing at the polls was not as extensive as expected. This may be partly due to the fact that both of them made statements about their intentions which may have discouraged potential supporters . Yehimovich’s abandonment of traditional socialist policies, and her declaration that under no circumstances would she serve in a government led by Netanyahu was a deterrent for many voters, and her own pretensions of being able to head a government smacked of delusions of grandeur. Tzippi Livni’s belated entry and somewhat lacklustre performance at the hustings may also have served to dissuade voters. The left-wing Meretz party, also led by a young woman, doubled its parliamentary representation, from three to six Knesset members, but that is still not enough to make much of a difference when it comes to government policies.

The ruling Likud party, which coalesced with Avigdor Lieberman’s Israel Beitenu (Israel is Our Home) party for the elections, constitutes a solid right-wing bloc, but has failed to attract the massive support they had been hoping for. The party now known as Habayit Hayehudi (the Jewish Home) but which is really just an updated version of the traditional orthodox party that was once known as Mizrahi, had declined in previous elections but emerged anew under the new, youthful leadership of Naftali Benet. These three parties all share similar values, but are not large enough to form a government on their own. Benet himself is an interesting character, advocating policies regarding the Territories that are extremely right-wing, on the one hand, but adhering to a moderate form of orthodoxy when it comes to religion, and even being prepared to accept civil marriage in Israel. He has served in the army and has become rich by selling his high-tech company, so that he seems to represent a more modern version of the traditional Jew. Altogether, Benet and Lapid can almost be seen as mirror-images of one another, both being wealthy, self-made young men who attract support from a wide section of the population. Whether they can sit in the same government remains to be seen.

The more traditional ultra-orthodox Judaism of the Shas party also attracted a goodly share of votes, and will be well represented in the forthcoming Knesset. Their policies on settlements, the Territories and economic issues can be moderate, if the situation requires it, provided their voters continue to get the benefits (dispensation from military service, social benefits and housing concessions) to which they have become accustomed. But if Yair Lapid has his way, this won’t be possible.

It will be interesting to see how the various segments combine, and how Netanyahu will put the pieces of the puzzle together to form a government.

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Only in Israel (again)

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Bach, Beethoven, Jerusalem, Murray Perahia, Schubert, Stephen Bishop, Stephen Kovachevich, YMCA

A recital by world-famous pianist, Stephen Kovacevich (formerly Bishop) was an event not to be missed, especially since the programme contained Schubert’s divine posthumous Sonata, Deutsch no. 960. So we bought our tickets and eagerly awaited the appointed date.

The evening was set to start with Beethoven’s Bagatelles, opus 126, continue with his sonata no. 31, and culminate with the aforementioned Schubert sonata. The programme notes were extremely long and informative, especially about the genre known as ‘bagatelle,’ and we were told in great detail about their character and history. The notes (by Uri Ya’akov) also dealt extensively with the Beethoven sonata, but to my astonishment and dismay, dismissed the Schubert sonata with a few casual lines.

Just before the recital was due to begin, an announcement was made to the effect that instead of the Bagatelles, Kovacevich would be playing a Bach partita. No one complained, and in the event this turned out to create a very satisfying programme, showing the development of musical forms and styles.

And then, to tumultuous applause, Kovacevich himself came onto the stage. He was wearing a mandarin-style black shirt and trousers, not the customary evening dress. He started playing the Bach partita very beautifully, but stopped after a couple of minutes, stood up and said: “Ladies and gentlemen, it is very cold up here. I’m freezing, and it’s difficult to play when one is cold.”

Nobody knew what to do. One kind gentleman from the audience dashed up onto the stage and offered him his jacket, but the pianist declined. Then a distinguished-looking gentleman went up onto the stage, was greeted in very friendly fashion by Kovacevich (I later found out that this was Murray Perahia, who heads the Music Centre at Mishkenot Sha’ananim), and then returned to his seat right behind me. Finally, a technician spoke to the pianist and said he would turn the heating up (it was very warm in the auditorium), and Kovacevich said, “We’ll wait five minutes.”

After a little while he resumed playing. I think he had made the mistake that many tourists do, namely, thinking that Israel is warm all year round. But we certainly experience winter, and Jerusalem is higher than the rest of the country so that the winters can be very cold. We even have snow from time to time, and Kovacevich really wasn’t dressed appropriately for the Jerusalem winter.

As far as I could tell, he played very well. He ended the concert with Schubert’s posthumous sonata, Deutsch no.960, which I adore, and so everyone went home happy. But I overheard someone in the audience say ‘only in Israel,’ and I think that’s true. It certainly was quite an experience.

Snow in Jerusalem

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floods, Galilee, Lake Tiberias, morning paper, storms

Hats off to the weather forecasters! Last week they said that a perfect storm was coming, and this week it did. Sunday was still fairly reasonable, chilly but not too bad. One could still get out and about here in the Jerusalem area with relative ease, and function in the normal fashion (an expedition to the supermarket, my weekly stint of volunteering at the Israel Museum, Yigal’s customary tennis game); the electricity worked, the house was warm, the car started on cue, and all was well.

On Sunday night the storm began. There was no electricity anywhere in the neighbourhood for several hours — our digital clock always tells us this has happened even if we were asleep at the time. But even if it hadn’t, the noise of the wind howling outside the windows and the thunder of the rain battering on the roof made sure we were aware of what was going on outside. The noise was enough to wake the dead, let alone a light sleeper like myself.

The next morning the sight outside our windows was truly terrifying, with trees bowed in the gale-force wind, and dark clouds low in the sky. Being a timid soul, I decided that I would not venture outside my front door that day, or any other day until the storm was past. That meant that I would be staying indoors for several days (except when I crept out in boots, coat, hat, and gloves first thing in the morning to take the paper from its perch just outside our entrance, and it was a good thing it had been rolled up and placed in a plastic bag, otherwise it would have been drenched). After all, it’s unthinkable for anyone brought up in England not to be able to read the morning paper as one partakes of breakfast. Yes, even in this day and age.

The news in all the media was of storm damage all over Israel. Trees were blown down, and some fell on cars and damaged them. One poor soul was in the way of a falling branch and had to be taken to hospital. Roads turned into rivers, and then into lakes. Cars were unable to proceed, and some were even washed away and seriously damaged. The neighbourhood just outside Jerusalem where I live, as well as Jerusalem itself, of course, is built on what is affectionately called the mountains of Jerusalem, and so most of the rainwater flowed on downhill to the valley below.

Our log-fired heater kept us warm and cosy all the time. There’s nothing to beat curling up with a book by a nice warm fire while the elements are raging outside.

All over Israel reports poured in of disastrous floods, of rivers overflowing their banks, of homes ruined, electricity failures, and apartments that had to be abandoned. Israel needs the water, it’s true, but it seems to be woefully unprepared to cope with it when it comes down in anything beyond the usual small quantity of winter rain. The one bright spot was the amount of water flowing into Lake Tiberias in Galilee, which is the catchment area for all the rivers and rainfall in the north of the country and Israel’s main source of fresh water (which it shares with Jordan). In the last few years the winter rains have not been enough to bring the level up to the required level, and the daily or weekly reports of its level have been a source of concern for every Israeli, and especially for the authorities. But this year it looks as if it will be full by the end of the winter, and particularly once the snow that has fallen in the higher areas has melted.

After a couple of days of torrential rain all over the country, the forecasters announced that the temperatures were going to drop drastically, and that there would be snow in all the high areas, Jerusalem included. Schools were told to send pupils home at midday, but the promised snow didn’t arrive that day (Tuesday). Then at 4 a.m. on Thursday morning it started to snow really hard, reminding me of the winter I spent in Lincoln, Nebraska, when I decided I never wanted to see another snowflake in my life. For several hours the snow continued to come down thick and fast, settling on the ground in a thick white layer. The world was white and much quieter than usual. And there was no morning paper, of course. Schools were closed all day on Thursday, and adults and children went out into the winter wonderland to have fun, participate in snowball fights, and build snowmen. Even the 89-year-old President was shown on TV helping to build a snowman (well, putting a woolly hat on the snowmen his security guards had made).

Our garden turned into a white winter palace, as the photo shows, and I only hope the snow hasn’t done too much damage to the plants. In any case, now the forecasters say the storm has passed and tomorrow the weather will start to get milder. Perhaps it’s just as well. A day or two of what’s known as a snow holiday, when roads are impassable and life stops its usual flow is fine, but no, I wouldn’t want it to go on for much longer.

When the lights went out

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Electricity cut, iPad, light, music, radio, tennis

It happened on a quiet, peaceful afternoon when, of course, I happened to be alone in the house. I switched on a light and suddenly the electricity in the whole house had gone, vanished, disappeared. It wasn’t yet quite dark outside, but dusk was falling, so I knew I had to act quickly.

I know the routine, although I don’t recollect anything quite as bad as this happening in our house (in contrast with general electricity cuts in our road or neighbourhood as a result of a thunderstorm or men at work outside). So I went outside the front door to the fuse box to find the recalcitrant switch and flick it up. All the switches were up (there are at least forty), and the mains switch refused to stay up. OK, there’s always another solution. So I rang my husband, who was somewhere in Jerusalem and planning to play a three-hour game of tennis later in the evening, and with no intention of coming home to our remote suburb until much, much later.

Guided by Yigal over the phone, I dutifully flicked individual switches, then put all the switches down, then one by one put them up again. The mains switch still refused to cooperate. It was almost completely dark by then. I was prepared to phone an electrician, anything, anyone, just so that Yigal would not have to miss his tennis game. But my devoted husband, ever the responsible householder, decided to ‘pop back home’ to resolve the problem before going on to the tennis court.

It takes a good half an hour to get to our house from town. What was I to do in the meantime? No computer. No radio. No TV. Not even a cup of coffee. I felt as if I was being sent back to the Stone Age. Gradually I emerged from my state of catatonic panic. I remembered that I had a little battery-powered radio that goes with me into the garden when I do gardening. The quality of the sound is less than ideal, but at least it provides some contact with the outside world, and especially with the classical music programme that is my constant companion.

But how was I to amuse myself? I tried to read my book, a fascinating account of life at Bletchley Park, the top-secret code-deciphering centre that operated in England during the Second World War, but the light was too poor. Then I remembered my iPad. What a miraculous invention! It is always there, always back-lit, and I have managed to download several books into its Kindle app. Hooray! I have something to read!

And coffee? How am I to find comfort in my hour of need without electricity? I tried plugging the electric kettle in upstairs, in a room where one light was functioning. The minute the kettle began to heat up the remaining light fused! So no coffee. It took a while but it eventually occurred to me that it might be possible to ignite our gas hob with a match. Would it work without the electricity which I usually use to get it going? Lo and behold, after fumbling in the dark to find our one box of matches, kept for emergencies and the Sabbath candles, the gas came on and did in fact manage to heat a small pan of water. Thus, even in my twentieth-century, stone-age cave I was able to enjoy coffee, music and reading matter. Bliss.

A few hours later, after Yigal and an obliging electrician had worked for a long time unplugging every single electrical item in the house and eventually finding the culprit (a burnt-out ‘choke,’ whatever that might be), and restoring light to our house, we rejoined civilisation.

But it was too late for Yigal’s game of tennis, and I remain forever grateful to him for his sacrifice in the cause of my mental health and stability. Meanwhile, I’m going to download a few more books to my iPad, because you never know…