What a Life!

 

 

‘Une Vie’ (A Life) by Simone Veil, published by Stock, France, 2017

On the cover of Simone Veil’s autobiography, written in 2007, we read that she is a member of the Academie Francaise, though this is not mentioned in the book. It would seem that after a long and eventful life, she was too modest to mention that particular distinction. Nevertheless, the list of Simone Veil’s achievements and exploits is sufficiently long and impressive to fill a book of almost four hundred pages.

Simone Veil, the youngest of the four children of André and Yvonne Jacob, was born in 1927 in Nice, France, died at the age of ninety-one in 2018, and was buried in the Pantheon in Paris, a signal honour accorded to only a few distinguished individuals. Reading her autobiography and the long list of her achievements, one can only conclude that this honour was certainly well-deserved.

The book begins with an account of her halcyon childhood and youth in Nice on the French Riviera, only to be rudely interrupted by the advent of the Germans in 1943. Sixteen-year-old Simone and other members of her family were deported first to Drancy and then to Auschwitz. Her harrowing account of life in the concentration camp, with its horrific conditions, harsh privations and work as a slave labourer for the Siemens company, was followed by a Death March to Bergen-Belsen, and eventual liberation, albeit after the loss of her mother and other family members. The heading of that chapter in her book is simply ‘Hell.’

On returning to France after a year in the camps, only to find that most of her family had been murdered, Simone decided to resume her studies and, with typical determination, completed her Baccalaureate and went on to study law at a university in Switzerland, where she had relatives who helped and supported her. While she was studying she met and married her husband, Antoine Veil, and subsequently their three sons were born. As she mentions at this point in her book, “it’s a good thing that we got married and had children while we were young, as now, after sixty years together, we can enjoy our children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.” Among the photographs that adorn the book is a touching one of the senior Veils surrounded by over twenty members of their family.

After completing her studies in law, Simone decided not to apply for the bar but to follow the separate track that led to becoming a magistrate. After some years in that capacity she was appointed Commissioner for Prisons, and worked assiduously to improve and reform the conditions in prisons. She served for several years in this capacity, and in 1974 was appointed Minister of Health by Jacques Chirac. Her principal concern in that office was to reform of the law regarding abortion, and to achieve that end she was obliged to overcome a great deal of opposition from the entrenched conservatism of the mainly male parliament. Woven in among the opposition was the equally deep-rooted anti-Semitism of many of her colleagues in the government, constituting another hurdle that she had to overcome while in office.

Although her connection with Israel and Judaism was tenuous, she supported the idea of the Jewish state. Nonetheless, her loyalty to France was paramount for her, and in later years she found herself ever more critical of the policies of Israel’s government.

A staunch pro-European, in 1979 she was elected President of the recently established European Parliament, and found herself constantly having to contend with the political manipulations and machinations of its members, especially those of the French representatives, whose agenda was often dictated by internal French politics rather than the European interests which she was trying to promote. While she was in this office the Berlin Wall fell and Germany was reunited, a process that she and other French politicians watched with a mixture of approbation and concern. This, in turn, led to the eventual acceptance into the EU of many of the former Soviet-era satellite countries of Eastern Europe. After thirteen years as President, she was reappointed France’s Minister of Health in 1993. This time her main concern was to combat the incidence of Aids, both in Europe and in Africa.

Interspersed with her account of her varied and interesting career, Simone Veil presents her vision of society, which is coloured to some extent by her harrowing experience of having been a slave labourer in Auschwitz and other concentration camps. Thus, she emphasizes her support for a united Europe which can never return to the enmities that gave rise to two world wars, as well as for open and democratic politics and social reform. Above all, she was motivated by an acute sense of justice, respect for human beings and the need to achieve a society that is both fair and just.

Eventually disillusioned by politics, she was appointed to France’s Constitutional Council, where she continued to promote women’s rights and pay equality. Towards the end of her life she was particularly gratified by the public acknowledgement in July 1995, by President Jacques Chirac, of France’s complicity in the crimes committed against Jews in WWII. This was accompanied by the establishment of a commission to provide compensation in the form of financial support for projects supporting Jewish activities and commemorating the crimes against Jews, and of which she was appointed President. The commission also acted to commemorate the 2,725 French Righteous Gentiles who helped to save Jews from deportation, hiding and protecting them during the years of the war, often at great personal cost.

The photographs which are included in the book show Simone Veil at the height of her beauty meeting numerous statesmen and dignitaries from around the world, though she claims that the person who impressed her the most was Anwar Sadat, who combined personal simplicity with grand human vision. The book ends with several annexes containing the text of speeches she gave at various points in her career, such as at the sixtieth anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz-Birkenau in 2005, her address as Minister of Health to the French National Assembly in 1974, when she defended the proposal to reform the law on abortion, her address to the European Parliament following her appointment as its President in 1979, the speech she gave at the Pantheon in 2007 regarding the commemoration of France’s Righteous Gentiles, and her address to the UN General Assembly on international Holocaust Remembrance Day.

Truly, a remarkable woman who overcame adversity and devoted her life to noble causes, serving as a shining light and inspiration to us all.

Friday Night Dinner

 

“What is your favourite sound?” was one of the questions that the legendary French interviewer and literary figure, Bernard Pivo, used to ask his interviewees. The answers were usually interesting but not very original. “The sounds of nature,” “A champagne cork popping,” “The harmonious cacophany of the orchestra tuning up before a concert,” were some of the answers that I can remember.

Had he interviewed me I would have given a different reply, though I’ll grant that those are all very agreeable sounds. The sound that I like best is the buzz and hum made by the voices of my children and grandchildren as they sit at the dining-table while I am giving out the food that comprises our Friday night meal.

Whoever designed our house must have had a typical family meal in mind when he (or she) placed our rather small but compact kitchen adjacent to the dining corner, so that eye and ear contact between the two is not lost. The layout is arranged in such a way that there is not very far to go from the hob, where the saucepans are arrayed, to the diners sitting at the table. We have been living in the house for almost thirty years, so that inititally we just needed room for ourselves plus one or two of our offspring. Then along came their spouses, followed by children of their own, so that where once we had to find room for five or six people, today our table is often laid for twelve, fourteen or more. There was a time when there were several little ones either sitting at the table or running around and playing football or tag in our open-plan living area. Thankfully, those days are now long gone.

Over the years the grandchildren have grown up, so that by now most of them are adults, and this brings me to the sound I love. As they sit together at the dining table they talk about the various subjects that interest them (not politics) and because by now we have four or five grandsons who are at one stage or another of their military service or have even completed it, their voices are deep and manly. And it is the sound of their animated conversation, often interspersed by guffaws of laughter, that I find so pleasant to my ears. Of course, the feminine voices of the women of the family, and especially the granddaughters, are also to be heard, and the combined constant background of conversation is as music to my ears.

Of course, the mobile phones are unavoidable and ubiquitous, and are sometimes whipped out to check a fact or to support a point. Our Friday night meals are a mixture of tradition and modernity, beginning with the traditional blessing over bread and wine (Kiddush), but that’s as far as tradition is allowed to intrude into our gathering. One memorable evening, when the man of the house was away, one of the grandsons volunteered to pronounce the blessing. This raised my feminist hackles, and I said that anyone can pronounce the blessing, even me, whereupon the assembled grandchildren rounded on me and insisted that I do so. I had no choice but to comply, and the memory of this continues to amuse my family to this day.

To conclude the meal, either together with dessert or with the tea and cake that follows, we turn to the weekly general knowledge quiz that is a regular feature of the weekend edition of the newspaper, and a combined effort is invested in trying to solve the questions. One person reads out the questions, which cover a wide range of subjects, some of which can be known only by members of the younger generation (TV programs, sport, pop music, etc.), while others are more esoteric, ranging from English and world literature to scientific subjects. We do our best to cover all areas of expertise between us, but rarely manage to come up with more than fifty percent of the answers.

I don’t know how much longer our children and grandchildren will be able to continue assembling at our house most Friday nights, or how long I will be able to cook a meal for a large number of people. All I can say is that as long as I have the strength, I’ll keep on doing so. Whatever the physical toll may be, it is more than compensated for by the emotional satisfaction our family dinners give me.

 

An Inspiring Evening

 

 

When Ron Regev strides onto the stage to talk about the Beethoven piano sonatas he is about to play, the audience is immediately captivated by his youthful bearing, informal way of talking and encyclopaedic knowledge of his subject. Setting the topic in its musical, historical and philosophical context, he provides us with additional understanding and appreciation of the music we are about to hear.

Attending another of the series of recitals accompanied by explanations that Dr. Regev has been giving over the past few weeks at the Ein Karem Music Center, with its intimate atmosphere and rural setting, we are once again entranced and fascinated by Dr. Regev’s charm and talent. In fact, he is something of a phenomenon, having been appointed head of the Jerusalem Music Academy’s keyboard department at a very early age while continuing to pursue a successful career as a performing musician.

To see and hear Dr. Regev in the course of this series, at each of which he discusses and plays several Beethoven piano sonatas (no mean feat in and of itself) is to take a journey into the complex world of Beethoven the man and the composer, as well as to learn about his place in the musical world. Regev’s abilities and broad understanding of his field enables him to establish Beethoven’s connections with those musicians and composers who went before him as well as with those who followed him.

Seemingly without any particular effort, after giving a few introductory remarks, Regev strides over to the piano and plays a few passages from a piece by Schubert, then plays the corresponding piece in Beethoven’s Sonata no. 18 to demonstrate the similarities between them, concluding with a few bars from Saint-Saen’s piano concerto for additional emphasis. Needless to say, all the works he plays are infinitely complex, requiring the dexterity, concentration and musicality of a concert pianist, and this he achieves with what appears to be great ease.

Regev was one of the first musicians to use an ipad instead of musical notation on paper as an aide to playing. In this, however, he is no longer unique as it is becoming more and more customary to see musicians using the digital device. From where I was sitting I was fascinated to be able to observe the way the music appears on the screen and automatically progresses without any ‘human’ intervention such as having to take one’s hands off the piano keys to turn the page (or have an assistant at hand to do the work). Amongst other things, Regev serves as musical advisor to the Tonara company that has developed the program that ‘hears’ the music being played and automatically progresses to the next passage. On the screen the page is turned automatically, making life much easier for the performing artist.

Still, though scientific progress may be all well and good, it can never compensate for depth of feeling and the ability to convey emotion through the notes that are played, and this Dr. Regev manages to achieve with admirable aplomb.

And so, once again, an evening that combined an uplifting musical experience with enlightenment that was neither condescending nor trivialising came to a satisfying end with an impassioned performance of Beethoven’s sonata no. 23, popularly known as the Appassionata Sonata, whose ending with a bravura cascade of chords simply took our breath away.

What Price Victory?

 

 

Watching the daily newscasts it’s impossible to escape seeing and hearing the horrific events that are taking place not too far away from where I’m sitting now. The impact of telecommunications is unescapable. From here in Jerusalem to Damascus, just to the north of Israel, it’s only 135 miles.

The so-called ‘civil war’ has been going on in Syria for some seven years now and nobody seems able to predict how and when it will end. Some pundits claim it started when climate changes caused crop failures, which led to food shortages, setting off a series of – initially peaceful – protests, but which turned violent when government forces opened fire on the protesters. Who exactly is fighting whom is complex in the extreme, with a large number of different elements involved, among them fundamentalist groups such as ISIS and its offshoots, some of them fighting against one another.

What is clear is that President Bashar al-Assad is determined to hang on to power at all costs and is not prepared to give way to any of the various forces seeking to unseat him. To this end it appears that he has enrolled the support of Russia and Iran, both of which have sent forces to support him in his battle to overcome his enemies. What is obvious is that neither of those two countries is doing so for altruistic motives, and each has an agenda of its own to promote, whether it’s to secure a foothold in the Middle East, as is the case with Russia, or to extend its influence in the region, as is the case with Iran.

What each of those countries sees as the ultimate aim is the issue with which the rest of the world – and Israel in particular – should be seeking to grapple, and it is that which presumably ought to concern world leaders. Unfortunately, many of those leaders are far too preoccupied with domestic matters, and above all with staying in power, to devote too much time and attention to dealing with the skirmishes in what to them is a remote spot. Millions of Syrians have been made homeless and are now forced to live in refugee camps in neighbouring countries or have embarked on the long and dangerous journey to Europe.

But for Israel, Syria is our next-door neighbor, and what we see going on just over the border is both horrifying and terrifying. It is horrifying because any person with an iota of humanitarian feeling cannot fail to quail and wail at the scenes of bloodshed and misery caused by the relentless bombing of civilian neighbourhoods, and worst of all the chemical attacks that have left innocent bystanders dead, injured or gasping for breath. Scenes of prostate bodies, of crying children unable to stand, of families torn asunder by the death and destruction rained upon them from the sky have become our daily fare, and it seems  heartless to sit and watch all this happening from the comfort of our homes.

But worse still, it is terrifying to us in Israel because it makes us wonder, if this is how Assad treats his own people, what would he do to us, given half a chance? One thing is obvious: we cannot rely on his or anyone else’s sense of humanity when it comes to sending missiles in our direction. Still today, after the State of Israel has been in existence for almost seventy years, the only way of defending ourselves seems to be to make sure that Assad, and anyone else so inclined, knows that they will pay a heavy price if they attack us. It’s not a very comfortable or comforting feeling, but we must hope that it is clear to all concerned that only our own strength and resilience continues to keep our enemies at bay.