Living with Cognitive Dissonance

It goes without saying that a certain amount of cognitive dissonance is inevitable in the psychology of anyone living in western society in this day and age. Our mental balance depends on finding a way of coping with the situations in which we find ourselves.

Recent events in Israel and elsewhere have led me to wonder if there is a way of quantifying the extent, or amount, or intensity of the phenomenon. Would it be fair to say that life in Israel gives rise to more or less cognitive dissonance? When I immigrated to Israel in 1965 the country was smaller, life was simpler and yet there were constant threats from the surrounding Arab countries, leading eventually to the outbreak of war in 1967. That marked a turning point in Israel’s existence, with the necessity of maintaining some semblance of order in the areas that had been conquered in the course of that war, known variously as conquered or liberated, Judea and Samaria or the West Bank (of the kingdom of Jordan, which had controlled it till then). Although I try to avoid making political statements, I can’t avoid pointing out that no one had raised the idea of a Palestinian state till then.

Suddenly a few weeks ago the attention of all Israelis was diverted away from the events in Ukraine to a series of terrorist attacks inside Israel. Towns that had been considered free of tension between the Arabs and Israelis living in and around them became targets of killing sprees by Arab citizens who had till then been considered part of Israeli society. The Arabs who live in Israel have the same rights as the Jews; they serve in the IDF and the police force as well as sending their representatives to the Knesset and even forming part of the coalition government.

Ironically, the day of the third and most serious attack was the first day of sunshine and warmth after an unusually long, cold and rainy winter. Knowing that we had to be in Tel Aviv in the evening to attend an opera, my husband and I decided to spend the day there. We had lunch in a restaurant overlooking the sea and took our dessert sitting on a comfortable couch beside the promenade, watching young parents with babies, youngsters on bikes and older people with zimmer frames strolling in the sunshine.

Tel Aviv has a lot to offer, if one can manage to navigate the traffic. We contrived to spend time in the Tel Aviv Museum visiting some of the excellent exhibits there, and ended the day with a performance of Mozart’s the Marriage of Figaro. The acting and singing were excellent, and acclaimed opera director David Pountney managed to introduce all manner of sly and entertaining elements into the show, including placing a (fake) anti-tank missile in the hands of Cherubino in an allusion to events in Ukraine.

It would have been a perfect day had it not been for the news of the attack in Bnei Braq and the five victims – both Arabs and Jews – that we heard on the car radio as we drive back to Jerusalem. And that just about sums up life in Israel. Beauty, tranquillity, culture and happiness at one moment, and murder, brutality and hatred the next.

There have always been attacks and murders in this part of the world, the birth of the state of Israel was not an easy one, and yet the country has survived and even thrived. Coping with cognitive dissonance is only part of the price we have to pay for having a country of our own.

In This Day and Age

I

We thought the age of war in Europe was over. We thought that people of intelligence and culture had learned to cooperate and at least to prevent the senseless destruction of property and lives. We thought that the lessons of the past had been learned, and that the urge to overrun and rule others had been tamed. At least in the so-called civilized world.

But we were wrong.

We knew that wars and senseless killing still continued in distant lands, in Africa and other distant parts. But not on our doorstep. Not in places that had learned the lessons of the past.

I suppose we should be grateful for the seventy-odd years that have passed without war breaking out in Europe. After all, there have been tensions and disagreements between countries. But most of those were settled through discussion and negotiation. No country took up arms against another, despite the long history of constant war, enmity and the desire for supremacy that has formed the Europe of today. The conclusion of the Second World War in 1945 marked a turning-point in the way international relations were conducted in Europe. Eventually, thanks to far-sighted and brave leaders, the European Union was formed, bringing once-warring nations into alignment and cooperation with one another.

It would be foolish to put all the blame for the current conflagration in Ukraine on one side. Undoubtedly, Russia is the aggressor, but its claims are not entirely baseless. My first thought upon hearing about Russia’s invasion of Ukraine was of the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1961. At the time it seemed that America’s demand that Russia remove its long-range missiles from Cuban soil were justified. I lived through that terrifying time, when it seemed that the world was on the brink of another world war. But fortunately, the two leaders involved, Kennedy and Khruschev, managed to reach a solution that avoided conflict.

Sadly, that has not been the case this time.

And so every night our TV screens are filled with scenes of human misery, displacement and loss. To this is added the wholesale destruction of towns and villages, the unending stream of refugees and the enormous cost in material and human devastation.

Is Russia right to wreak havoc on Ukraine in order to make its point? Of course not. Nothing justifies the terrible sights to which we are witness. The question remains: could not some other, better way of resolving the dispute have been found? The efforts currently being invested by various parties, including our own prime minister, Naftali Bennet, to mediate between the warring parties, have not borne fruit so far. But perhaps one day soon they will. All that is required is for each side to take a step back.

Khruschev decided not to plunge the world into war in 1961, and his name will go down in history for having had the moral courage to do so. Kennedy was prepared to stand his ground, but also to make concessions in order to encourage Khruschev to go towards him.

It seems so simple now, looking back, but it was a very tense few days at the time. I remember saying goodbye to my fellow-students on the Friday and wondering if London and our university would still be in existence on the following Monday.

All we can do now is extend what humanitarian aid we can and watch from the sidelines as death and destruction are rained down on people whose only desire was to make a life for themselves and their children. But in this day and age that isn’t enough. One has to be able to make compromises and concessions in order to achieve that life.

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider reading one of my 8 novels, all available on Amazon, and from my website: www.shefer-vanson.com

The Importance of Pawns; Chronicles of the House of Valois

In this book by Keira Morgan the year is 1514 and the French monarchy lives in splendour, moving between its various palaces and castles throughout the territory known as France. The populace ekes out a living from the land or from serving and providing services to the nobles. Participation in war is another form of employment for the impoverished males of the region, offering the prospect of enrichment through pillage and plunder, provided that death does not prevent them from achieving their aim.

The book (which I read as an ebook) opens as Countess Louise d’Angoulême admires her image in the fine Venetian mirror her son, Francois, has given her. She feels that he has acknowledged his filial devotion to her by means of the costly gift. Aware of the impending death of Queen Anne, the wife of the elderly King Louis XII, Countess Louise is determined to further the marriage of her son to Princess Claude, thereby installing him as heir to the  throne.

The machinations that Countess Louise sets in motion in order to achieve her aim are presented in a lively and convincing way throughout the novel. The author undoubtedly knows her history and has also done extensive research into the life and times of the French court in the sixteenth century, bringing to life the characters who throng the court. This applies especially the principal characters – fifteen-year-old Princess Claude, her sister four-year Princess Renée, and their governess and confidante, Baronne Michelle de Soubise. Matters become even more complicated when the dying Queen Anne appoints Countess Louise d’Angouleme governess of Princess Renée, much to the consternation of young Princess Claude.

The book provides a graphic account of life at court, the way policies are pursued, royal marriages are arranged and how the relations between the various individuals proceed as they try to make their way through the convoluted paths of statecraft and the conduct of everyday life.

The characters are portrayed as well-rounded individuals, though to what extent their thoughts and emotions really reflect what happened at the time is unknown. We know for sure that after Queen Anne’s death, King Louis XII married Mary Tudor, younger sister of England’s King Henry VIII, and that no children were born to them. Consequently, after his death Mary could return to England and marry the member of the British nobility with whom she was romantically involved.

The author has done an excellent job of bringing that period and those individuals to life, with attention to detail regarding dress, behaviour and the way matters of state were conducted. Presumably there is some veracity in the events depicted. I recommend the book to anyone interested in the intricacies of French history and life at court in the sixteenth century.

To Be a Refugee

I was born in London in 1942. My parents were refugees, stateless and penniless. The fact that I was born where and when I was gave me the right to remain in England, and hence also enabled my parents to remain there. It was wartime, London was being bombed, but it was still a safer place than their homeland of Germany, where their parents were being carted off to concentration camps and murdered at that very time. That would have been their fate, too, had they remained there. They had committed the crime of being born Jews.

Watching television today, with its grim images from Ukraine of men, women and children, both old and young, traipsing for hours and days through frozen wastes and towns full of destroyed buildings, in a desperate search for shelter and refuge, brings to life in the most graphic manner the ordeal that throughout the generations my ancestors and those of most other Jews, somewhere along the line, doubtless went through. After all, Jews have not always been made to feel welcome in the places where they may have once settled and, under the circumstances of the time and the whims of whatever ruler or government were current at the time, were forced to uproot themselves over and over again and try to find a new resting place.

This went on for two thousand years until the second half of the twentieth century, when Israel was founded.

It’s true, over the years some Jews found a relatively safe haven in various western countries, America, England, western Europe and the Scandinavian countries first and foremost. But let me remind those who think that the gates of those countries were opened wide for Jews trying to find a new home that in America the quota system introduced at the beginning of the twentieth century restricted entry to Jews from Europe to those who could find a guarantor to put up the fee required by the authorities. Not everyone had relatives there who could and would provide the costly ‘affidavit’ which was the sine quo non for entry into the country.

For every Jewish refugee seeking to enter England a sum of money had to be guaranteed either by persons residing in the country or they had to bring it in themselves. Since the Nazis stripped most Jews of every penny they owned, as well as preventing them from taking money out of the country, this served as an additional obstacle to emigration and absorption in another country. My parents were in the fortunate position of having relatives in England who – albeit reluctantly and belatedly – put up the money to guarantee their entry. This was only after Kristallnacht, the Pogrom action throughout Germany, when synagogues and Jewish businesses were destroyed and Jewish men arrested and sent to concentration camps. Most Gentiles were not targeted by the Nazis, so there was no need for them to seek refuge elsewhere.

Even for the acclaimed Kindertransport project, when ten thousand unaccompanied Jewish children from Europe were allowed into England, each child had to be guaranteed by a family there that was ready to take them in or, alternatively, by one of the various Jewish or Quaker organisations that undertook to place the children upon arrival. The UK government’s decision to allow the children into England was made contingent upon their not becoming ‘a burden on the British taxpayer.’

And so, although it sounds unpleasant, the demand by the Israeli government for refugees from Ukraine to be guaranteed by relatives in Israel or produce a not inconsiderable sum of money is not so unreasonable, or at least not unprecedented. This has always been the way countries have tried to regulate the influx of others seeking a new home or sanctuary from the horrors that await them if they stay where they are.

The existence of Israel guarantees some form of protection for Jews wherever they might be, and now the country has opened its gates to a limited number of non-Jews too. There is a lot to be said for the magnanimity and generosity of this small country in allowing those in need to gain entry, but the need for a Jewish state remains the ultimate objective that Israel’s leaders should bear in mind.

Ukraine

One’s heart goes out to the men, women and children caught up in the devastating and unprovoked attack on their country by their powerful and greedy neighbour. The sight of women carrying children as they tramp along frozen roads and fields in an attempt to find shelter and safety is truly heartbreaking. The scenes of destroyed buildings and rubble-filled streets cannot fail to elicit our sympathy and pity.

Ukraine is the place from which my husband’s family originated. When just-married Rachel and Mordechai Shifris left their homeland and families in the early 1930s, having met on Hachshara in Lvov, they came to what was then Palestine as Halutzim. They both left extensive families behind which they were never to see again.

Ukraine, or the part of the world known variously as Galitzia or Poland, had been soaked in the blood of Jews for many years. The Nazis who invaded and conquered the territory in WWII had no difficulty in identifying, rounding up and murdering Jews. The local population was only too happy to help. The history of anti-Semitism in Ukraine and eastern Europe in general, goes back a long way.

I’m not trying to pin the crimes of their ancestors on the current generation of those now being forced to flee, but I find it hard to detach my view of current events from my knowledge of those of the past. The czars of Russia, who ruled most of the surrounding area, were notoriously anti-Semitic, confining Jews to the Pale of Settlement, and preventing them from participating fully in civic life. The Orthodox church did nothing to stop pogroms and bloodshed, even encouraging the local communities in their murderous rampages.

The Ukrainian nationalist leader, Simon Petliura, was at the forefront of the political movement agitating against the Jews in the early part of the twentieth century. Instigating pogroms all over Ukraine in the name of Ukrainian nationalism, he caused the deaths of many thousands of Jews, the destruction and theft of their property, accompanied by unrestrained assaults on women and children.

A few years ago I picked up a book entitled ‘Adieu Volodia’ at a second-hand fair in central France. This turned out to be an engaging novel (in French) by Simone Signoret describing the lives of immigrants from eastern Europe in Paris in the 1920s. Little did I imagine that I would be thrust into the heart of the struggle of Jews to escape the hardships of their former In the book I read that the arrival in Paris of Petluria caused consternation and fear among the capital’s Jewish denizens, and it was only his assassination by a Jewish gunman called Sholom Shwartzbard there in 1927 that allayed their fears. The Volodia of the title was a cousin of one of the main characters who was killed in far-away Ukraine.

My sister-in-law, who belongs to a group of people in Israel who keep alive the memory of Chortkow, the town in Ukraine from which their families originated, visited the area with the group a few years ago. She found neighbours who remembered her parents’ families, but of course there was nothing material to recall where they had lived and what they had once possessed. Her opinion of Ukraine and the Ukrainians is far from sympathetic, and I’m sure that many people whose families originated from that part of the world are in agreement with her.

So, while I wish no ill to the unfortunate inhabitants of current-day Ukraine, the shadow of the past refuses to leave me. Today the refugees are ordinary folk, just like you and me, who have been forced to leave their homes in order to seek safety. But not so long ago it was our kith and kin who had to run away or be killed by their neighbours and countrymen.

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider reading one of my 8 novels, all available on Amazon, and from my website: www.shefer-vanson.com