Margaret Raphael

Margaret with her children Jaqueline and Georges

Three years ago, when I was looking for someone with whom I could converse in German, an acquaintance put me in touch with Margaret Raphael. After a brief telephone conversation I made my way to her home in one of Jerusalem’s established neighbourhoods, and we began a friendship that ended only last week, with her death at the age of 96.

Yes, it was hard to believe that the lively, intelligent woman whom I visited once a week was already 93 when we began our relationship. I feel I can permit myself to call it a relationship, friendship even, because despite the difference in our ages (I am about the same age as her children) we were able to discuss dozens of different subjects and she always had something interesting and insightful to say.

Margaret was a delightful, quick-witted and intelligent lady whose mind remained clear right until the end. She loved reading, and there were always several books on all kinds of subjects, mainly in German but also in English, at her side. Sometimes we would talk about a book she or I had been reading, and sometimes about various aspects of our families, the general situation, or any subject that came to mind. She always made sure to have some little delicacy – cake or biscuits or chocolate – for us to have with the coffee which always accompanied our meeting.

Margaret was born and brought up in Basle, Switzerland, and came to live in Israel in the wake of her three married children, Claude, Georges and Jaqueline, who were living in Israel. Together with their partners, children and grandchildren they formed a warm, loving family, making Margaret the materfamilias of a considerable tribe. Although she lived to a good age and had a pleasant life on the whole, her life was not without tragedy as her husband died suddenly at a relatively young age a few years before she moved to Israel. Nonetheless, Margaret persisted with the plan to ‘make Aliya,’ remained in her adopted country, and did what she could to adapt and make the best of the situation.

At the age of 93 Margaret was still attending light exercise classes at ‘Delet Petuha,’ the cultural centre for retired people in Rehavia, and would stay on for a lesson in English. In previous years she was a keen participant in the oil-painting classes given there, producing many proficient paintings. Her favourite subject was flowers, but she also painted landscapes and still lifes, and had an excellent sense of colour and form. She told me with a smile that all her paintings were “genuine Raphaels.”

Until she was 92 Margaret (known as Gigi to her friends) lived on her own in her third-floor flat with no lift, volunteered for fifteen years at Yad Sarah and the Yad Lakashish gift shop and was completely independent. But then a fall left her with a broken hip and after surgery and a spell in hospital her mobility was limited. As is often the case here in Israel, she was obliged to take a live-in carer, and was fortunate to obtain the multi-talented Braian, who comes from the Philippines.

As time went by and our conversations ranged over ever-wider topics I came to know the various members of her family from her accounts. Thus, I followed the ups and downs of her son, Claude, who was suffering from cancer. No mother can look with equanimity on her child’s suffering, and it was obvious to me that Margaret felt great distress at her son’s illness, but she tried always to remain optimistic and positive. When he died about a year ago it was obviously terribly hard for her, but she did not allow herself to wallow in self-pity, and told me that she was glad he was not suffering any longer.

Even when she was well into her nineties Margaret would often look after some of her fourteen or more great-grandchildren. I met two of them who often visited the municipal library that was situated near her house. The two very well-behaved children, a boy aged about six and a girl of ten, would come into the house (the door was never locked), and occupy themselves with the books they had borrowed, or sit at the table to draw, and Margaret would exchange a few words with them in Hebrew. Although she claimed that she could not speak Hebrew, she did in fact speak it quite well and without very many grammatical errors.

Her funeral was attended by a great many people from all walks of life, and she was eulogized by her daughter and one of her grandsons. It was obvious that she was greatly loved by all those who knew her, myself included

Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind by Yuval Noah Harari

 

The book was published by Harper Collins in 2014 and translated from the Hebrew by the author, with the help of Haim Watsman and John Purcell.

First, kudos to the author for using the term ‘humankind’ rather than ‘mankind’ as used by Neil Armstrong when he stepped on the moon. Harari often uses ‘her’ and ‘she’ when referring to humans in general, and for that refusal to accede to stereotypical sexist usage he is to be congratulated.

Harari provides the reader with a stunning, all-encompassing birds-eye-view of the history of the world, displaying a breath-taking breadth of knowledge in any number of scientific and other areas while at the same time formulating his discourse in a language that is both accessible and peppered with humour – no easy task in a tome of this nature. In so doing he provides us with an overall perspective of human development and humankind’s place in the world in the past and the present.

Especially endearing are his throw-away asides and use of familiar and even irreverent language without ever descending to a level that is insulting to the reader’s intelligence, as well as inserting references to modern life when describing historical events. Thus, for example, in explaining the rationale for Captain Cook’s 18^th century expedition to the Antipodes he considers whether it was intended for military or scientific purposes, then says “That’s like asking whether your petrol tank is half empty of half full. It was both.” This little departure from the dry academic tone gives the reader the  feeling that she is simply having a conversation with a knowledgeable friend or relative.

And the book abounds in similar examples, so that the bitter pill of abstract or abstruse factual knowledge is sweetened by a generous dose of humour and even irreverence.

In Part 3, The Unification of Humankind, Harari devotes a chapter to ‘The Scent of Money.’ Since it is impossible to review the book as a whole, I have chosen to focus on his treatment of economics as a seminal aspect of human development. Coins were minted and used as currency in ancient societies several millennia ago (Sumer, Rome, Judea, Greece, etc.) and money represented a crucial aspect of the transition from the barter system of the hunter-gatherer to the settled farming societies of the agricultural revolution. Nonetheless,  it did not constitute an important step in the development of modern society, Harari claims, asserting that it was a purely mental revolution, involving ‘the creation of a new inter-subjective reality that existed solely in people’s shared imagination.

Money does, however, enable people to ascribe a value to objects that previously could not be measured very easily. Harari points out that coins and banknotes are a rare form of money today, as more than 90 percent of all money exists only on computer servers, and most transactions are executed by electronic means. It is banks and financial institutions that enable these flows to take place, and behind Harari’s light-hearted account of the way money works lies a wealth (sorry about the pun) of complex economic theory and data.

In the segment entitled ‘How Does Money work?’ Harari points out that without trust the system would be unworkable. The concept of credit, which is based on trust, is the mechanism by which the economic system operates in the modern world, and it is only in the last five hundred years, the period during which the modern world emerged, that the economic system based on credit and trust, has developed.

Harari notes that trust was created in the course of a long and complex network of political, social and economic relations. When coins were first used they had a standardized weight and value, guaranteed as such by the ruler. This is not quite the case with modern paper money, which constitutes more of an i.o.u. whose value is guaranteed by the central bank.  Without trust in the power of the central financial authority the system wouldn’t work.  This concept enabled the Roman Empire to rule many different and distant lands, and in modern times allows different countries to trade with one another, and large political entities to function financially.

Money is based on two universal principles: universal convertibility and universal trust.  While this system has benefits it also serves to undermine local traditions, intimate relations and human values, replacing them with the laws of supply and demand. The trust system relates not to individuals but to money itself. Notwithstanding,  determined armed groups or nations can overthrow the rule of money and impose a different system of values (e.g., Marxism, Islam). The desire to rule others gave rise to imperial domination both in ancient Rome and in sixteenth century Europe.  But it is commerce, empire and universal religions that have led to the ‘global village’ we live in today (Chapter 13, ‘The Secret of Success’). The modern world of the last five hundred years is the product of intellectual curiosity (as exemplified by the Scientific Revolution), geographical exploration (Imperial Expansion) and their attendants – greed, or more nicely put, the profit motive.

In Chapter 16, ‘The Capitalist Creed,’ Harari uses a simple analogy to illustrate the role played by credit (and therefore trust) in the economic system, with the end-product being the financial credit that oils the wheels of the economy and enables economic progress. The idea of progress, of scientific discovery, has enabled our world to move forward at an astonishing pace in the last 500 years. This has brought people to place increasing trust in the future rather than looking back to and longing for an idealized past. Despite bumps in the road and setbacks along the way, there is ever-growing credit and economic growth, bringing greater prosperity to more and more people all over the world.

Capitalism involves the investment of money, goods and resources in production. Harari considers this relatively recent concept to be a new religion, one that is supported by governments and financial institutions. Keeping the economy growing has become the sine qua non of ruling bodies, and even led to wars in the nineteenth century in order to sustain the preservation of imperial (and hence economic) interests). Politics and economics are today inextricably interconnected, and a country’s credit rating is at least as important for its economic wellbeing as its natural resources.

However, belief in the free market can lead to the cynical exploitation of human beings, as it does of animals today. Harari gives all-too-graphic accounts of the way animals are treated as part of the process of food production. Human slavery, which was widespread in the past, was eventually overcome on ethical, not economic, grounds.

In Chapter 17, ‘The Wheels of Industry,’  Harari tackles the problem of the creation and conversion of energy. This was originally provided by muscle power, whether of humans or animals, until in the nineteenth century steam power, and later electricity, were discovered and harnessed, facilitating the Industrial Revolution that has made our modern world. Other forms of energy have emerged – oil, nuclear power and solar power – and there may well be others as yet unknown and untapped. As Harari points out, people invented and imagined many things, but no one foresaw the internet and the way it would revolutionise our lives.

All this progress has brought us to a point where a great many things are being produced and the main function of many industries is to produce more and more. In order to create a market for their goods an entire industry of advertising and marketing has arisen, with its ideology of consumerism, or what Harari calls ‘The Age of Shopping.’ We are all victims or subjects of this ideology and resist its wiles at our peril. Harari defines this as another religion, and the first one whose followers actually do what they are asked to do. “How do we know that we’ll really get paradise in return?” he asks, and answers: “We’ve seen it on television.”

According to Harari, the modern world is one of unparalleled peace and prosperity, especially in the last seven decades,  but over the last two centuries it has led to the collapse of family and community. Today there is far greater emphasis on the individual, and what has emerged alongside this approach are imagined communities (Facebook, for example). But that is more a sociological and psychological  issue than an economic one, and it is to this that Harari devotes the last portion of his book.

 

 

London Revisited

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August Bank Holiday, British Museum, fish and chips, National Gallery

 

As we all know, London has a lot to offer in the way of culture, amusement, entertainment and delights of all kinds. However, there is a very big but to enjoying London, and my latest visit has brought this into relief. So, I have made a series of notes to myself regarding points to avoid when in that fair city. I only hope that I remember to take note of my notes on my next visit.

Note to self no.1: Try to avoid visiting London over the August Bank Holiday weekend. It almost invariably rains (which means disaster for my hair). The city is even more crowded than usual. Hotels and shops are full to bursting, as is the Underground, while the buses are few and far between. A stroll along Oxford Street requires elbowing one’s way through crowds of shoppers of all shapes, sizes and nationalities (as well as an inordinate number of ladies in long black cloak-like coats that cover every part of their anatonomy, leaving only a slit for their eyes).

Note to self no.2: Don’t go to a pub to enjoy the traditional meal of fish and chips on a night when a football game is being played anywhere in England. These games are shown on enormous TV screens placed at strategic points throughout the pub, and the eyes of all the occupants of the arena are fixed on them. To the frantic babble of the commentator is added the roaring of the crowd in the stadium, and this is further supplemented by the shouts of the people in the pub. This makes for a noise level far above my comfort zone and quite ruins my appetite – even that for fish and chips.

Note to self no.3: Avoid the customary temples of delights, such as the British Museum, the National Gallery, and all the other tourist havens, as they are too crowded to be enjoyable. Hopefully, the current labour unrest at the National Gallery will soon be resolved as the innocent visitor from abroad finds him- or her-self barred from entering many of the best galleries, and the usually informative guided tours given daily at 11.30 a.m. and 2.30 p.m. are not available at present.

Note to self no.4: Be very careful when ordering food of any kind anywhere. The influx of ambitious young foreign workers, many of whom are to be found behind stalls and tills in cafes, restaurants and shops, are not always at one with the quaint English expressions with which some of us grew up many years ago. Thus, when I asked for ‘a cup of tea’ I was presented with a….cappucino. The two beverages sound almost the same, don’t they? I was almost tempted to ask for ‘a cuppa,’ but I’m glad I didn’t, because the good Lord only knows what I would have ended up with.

Note to self no.5: Pack your carry-on luggage with great care. I was among the several passengers whose carry-on luggage and handbag were thoroughly searched by the security personnel at Heathrow airport. It is no great pleasure to have your intimate possessions extracted from their place of rest, held up to the light and examined for any trace of suspicious matter. And of course, there is general interest in the medley of objects that are brought to light. The security officials’ suspicions were aroused, I think, by the very small bottle of liquid soap I always carry with me. But then came the other delights – my medications, my creams, a tiny bottle of perfume, all of which were examined, dissected and deposited in one zip-lock bag, thereby ruining any order I had put them in. “Ooh, pink macaroons!” exclaimed the young lady with delight as she extracted the cellophane bag from my hand luggage, where I had put ot to try and protect the contents from being crushed. They weren’t macaroons, actually, but raspberry-flavoured meringues that friends had given us, and very delicious they were, too when I finally got to eat them.

Note to self no.6: Don’t get carried away by the terms of endearment that English people tend to use to just anyone and everyone. The bus-driver said ‘this is your stop, love,’ and a handsome young security officer asked me “Are you travelling on your own, darling?” For a brief moment I imagined he was offering me a chance at a brief fling but then realised it was just his concern at seeing my possessions strewn all over the table and the struggle of a no-longer-young lady to get them all back into her suitcase. Ah well, one’s entitled to dream, isn’t one?