I spent the afternoon doing my small part to get ready for the next war.
One of the colonels in my seminar at the National Defense College gave a presentation on the country's dilemmas. For example: should the army invade Gaza in response to the rocket attacks? Israelis have been killed at the rate of two per year; a few more injured; and lots frightened. An invasion will be more costly in Israeli losses. It will bring only a temporary halt to the rocket attacks. They are light, easy to make and carry. More will come after the army leaves Gaza. No one that I know wants to stay in Gaza with enough troops to keep all the Palestinians from doing nasty things. Can we hope that an invasion will induce Palestinians to act against those who want to attack us?
Another gave a presentation about the influence of civilian casualties on the army's performance in Lebanon. He is concerned with the impact of rocket attacks on the north of Israel. Some in the class argued that they caused worry to soldiers, especially among those who came from the north, and limited their effectiveness in Lebanon. Others said that the civilian casualties spurred the soldiers to greater effort.
The evening was a cause of joy, but not entirely. Ohad married Maya. I first met Ohad 30 years ago at his Brit Mila (circumcision). He introduced me to Maya five years ago. Four years ago she was in a university cafeteria at the wrong time. Ohad was at home watching television. He knew Maya was having lunch at the university. When the news brought pictures of the explosion, he saw a covered figure on a stretcher, along with belongings he recognized as Maya's. She lost an eye and suffered other head injuries that required several operations. Friends of the Hebrew University arranged one of them at the Johns Hopkins University hospital. The music was great, and we stayed long into the night. I kept looking at another guest, who was brought to the hospital at the same time as Maya. This young woman is still in a wheel chair. I did not speak with her. I want to know if she will ever graduate to crutches, but I could not bring myself to disturb her. She seemed to be having a good time. I also thought about David, who was Diego to his family. He was in the same cafeteria. We never finished the arguments begun in my workshop. I cried with his parents.
I came home to find an e-mail from an American friend, asking me to comment on a letter he was writing in response to an anti-Semitic screed that had entered a political dispute in Washington State. According to his adversary, the Jews control most of the media. They shaped America's response to 9-11 to suit their own purposes. Israel bleeds the American treasury, and uses the money to seize Palestinian land. Israel is the reason the Muslims hate Americans.
It was not a typical day. Usually my biggest chore is to decide on the sandwich to make for lunch. Alas, this is not a normal country. Lunch is not our problem.
Posted by Ira Sharkansky at March 21, 2007 06:01 PM