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“Proof of Life” – New book about Syrian conflict tells spellbinding story of one man’s search for a young American who went missing in 2014
Review by BERNIE BELLAN The war in Syria which began in 2011 following upon earlier upheavals in the Arab world that were ignited by what became known as the Arab Spring has, by and large, vanished from the headlines of the world’s newspapers.
Once Russia intervened on the side of Bashar Al Assad in 2015, along with Iran and its Hezbollah acolytes, the tide was turned in favour of Assad. It is true that American troops, along with their various allies in Syria, were instrumental in ridding Syria of ISIS, but there were many more factions fighting the Assad regime than ISIS.
The complex world of what really amounted to inter-tribal warfare in Syria resulted in some of the most atrocious acts imaginable committed by all sides in the conflict, although when it came to the use of military hardware to massacre entire populations, Assad’s forces set new levels of barbarity in terms of the degree to which they were willing to gas, bomb, and murder innocent civilians throughout the conflict.
Within this nightmarish world, however, there were many individuals who not only did not suffer at all during the conflict – they actually thrived. Some were members of different militias who capitalized on capturing Western journalists and humanitarian workers in Syria, holding them for huge ransoms when they could.
We in the West were witness to the horrendous brutality that ISIS was capable of when it came to dealing with those captured Westerners – including their beheadings on a regular basis, but other groups were also willing to engage in equally savage treatment of innocent Westerners. In the cases of those other groups, however, the goal by and large was to trade Westerners for money.
Often captured journalists or humanitarian workers would be traded back and forth among groups. There were different reasons for the shuffling around of prisoners. For one, it made it almost impossible for anyone wanting to retrieve those prisoners to keep track of them. Secondly, at different times different groups placed different values on certain prisoners, depending on where they came from and with whom those groups were in a position to negotiate.
Into this hellish world stepped Daniel Levin, a Swiss-born Jew now living in the United States whose expertise is in negotiating with some of the world’s most unsavory characters. Levin is a lawyer by training and his legal negotiation skills were put to good use when he began working “with a European foundation and select individuals in Syria” in what became a project known as “Project Bistar”.
The purpose of Project Bistar, Levin explains in an incredibly fascinating new book (that is yet to be released for sale to the public) titled “Proof of Life”, was to mediate between the warring sides in the Syrian conflict, “in the hope of working quietly behind the scenes toward a negotiated settlement and, at a second stage, identifying young, next-generation individuals of the Alawite, Sunni, Druze, and Christian communities with leadership potential.”
Levin explains that, until 2015 when the Russians intervened on his side, Assad appeared amenable to a negotiated settlement, especially when rebel forces were inflicting terrible damage on his own forces.
With that as background information, in 2014 Levin found himself thrust into a situation totally unexpectedly in which his negotiating skills were put to a supreme test.
As a press release that was sent to me in January described it, “Daniel Levin was at his office one day when he got a call from an acquaintance with an urgent, cryptic request to meet in Paris. A young man had gone missing in Syria. No government, embassy, or intelligence agency would help. Could he? So begins a suspenseful, shocking, and at times brutal true story of one man’s search to find a missing person in Syria over eighteen tense days.”
Thus begins “Proof of Life: The Undercover Search for a Missing Person in Syria, where Arms, Drugs, and People Are for Sale“.
This lengthy preamble to my review of the book was necessary to provide some context for what the book is all about. Since the story that Levin tells – and the events which he describes are all true – although he has changed the names of most of the characters in order to protect the identities of individuals whose lives might be in danger, even years after the events which he describes.
Reading “Proof of Life” is like reading any well-written, fast paced thriller – except in this case, knowing that what you are reading really did happen will often leave you feeling physically ill when you realize the depths to which humans are capable of sinking to the present day. And I’m not just talking about the depravities of various armed groups around the world, many of which are Islamic it must be said (whether in the Middle East, Africa, the Philippines or any other of a number of areas in which offshoots of Al Qaeda or ISIS still hold sway).
Some of the most notorious characters in “Proof of Life” are not at all involved in actual fighting; instead they are the parasites who see opportunities in conflict situations to make vast sums of money supplying such commodities as drugs and women to the fighters.
It was within this dangerous and completely shadowy world that Levin found himself when he was asked to help obtain information about a young American by the name of Paul Blocher who had somehow entered into Syria sometime in 2014 – and disappeared.
As Levin describes it, he was contacted by an old friend who asked him for a favour, which was to use his various and very useful contacts throughout the region to do what he could to find out what happened to Blocher.
What follow sin the book is a complex series of encounters with some fascinating characters, most of whom are Arabs of varying nationalities, in locations including Ankara, Beirut, Washington, Amman, and Dubai, as Levin pursues a trail replete with scattered bits of information that bring him ever closer to the one character who he is certain can reveal what actually happened to Paul Blocher.
Throughout reading this book I couldn’t help thinking that Levin, who doesn’t at all hide his Jewish identity, was quite fearless in his willingness to seek out individuals whose reputations would leave just about anyone else terrified to even go anywhere near them, let alone try and arrange to meet them.
Given that he had been tasked with an assignment that very few individuals in the world would be capable of performing, as you read the very careful preparations he continually put in place prior to his meeting any of these dangerous individuals, although Levin doesn’t describe to any extent how he developed his unique expertise in negotiation and subterfuge, you can only marvel at the thinking he displayed at all times in planning his course of action.
At a certain point in the book though, the name of a drug known as “captagon” began to take on a prominent role in the story. I had to digress from reading “Proof of Life” to acquaint myself with just what Captagon is.
Captagon is a powerful amphetamine that is most popular in the Middle East, where it is both the recreational drug of choice in such countries as Saudi Arabia and the drug that was used by all sides during the Syrian conflict that, in the words of a BBC correspondent describing how Captagon is used in Syria,“gives people a euphoric feeling that they can take on the world and are relatively indomitable. [It] suppresses appetite and gives you a very long burst of energy, something like 18 to 24 hours.”
“Amphetamine use by fighters is commonplace, but I wondered if the specific properties of Captagon made it the perfect war drug.
“ ‘That depends on what your values are in the war,’ “ according to Max Kravits, a researcher who has spent years studying the use of Captagon in the Syrian conflict.
“ It is incredibly deteriorating and debilitating and it makes fighters take risks they otherwise wouldn’t take. But if your goal is simply to take said hill regardless of the human cost, it certainly seems to be doing the job.’ “
As Levin pursued his quest to find out what happened to Paul Blocher, he was led ever closer to the one man who, it is had become apparent from a variety of sources, would be able to tell Levin what happened to Blocher.
That man’s name was “Anas” and if you ever wanted to conjure up a more insidious villain you would be hard put to find anyone more absolutely evil than Anas. When Levin finally saw Anas for the first time – and he made sure that he was carefully hidden so that Anas did not see him, he was blown away by Anas’s physical appearance: A massive six foot five, so muscular that he said Anas’s wrist was as big as Levin’s thigh. (It turns out that Anas was a steroid junkie, which both explained his enormous physique and the almost constant bouts of rage to which he was prone.)
And, although you can’t help but fear for Levin as he entered into the proverbial lion’s den, knowing that this is a true account, the overriding question as he describes his eventual face to face encounter with Anas, was how was he going to pry information out of someone who, it turns out, was actually capable of killing his own child to exact revenge on a wife who dared to leave him.
“Proof of Life” was just recently published (in 2021, as a matter of fact) and the copy I was sent was a review copy. But, as I was reading this incredibly fascinating book (and I know I use that phrase all too often in describing books that I love), I kept thinking to myself: All right, we know that Israel is engaged in an ongoing war of sorts with Iran in Syria, as Iran uses Syria as its base for arming Hezbollah, and that threatens to turn into a major all–out war with Hezbollah, but what of the actual conflict in Syria itself between Assad and all those factions that were fighting his regime? Has it all quieted down or are we just not hearing about it any more?
Here’s the answer, as Daniel Levin writes in his postscript to “Proof of Life” (and again, it was just written in 2021):
“These days, conventional wisdom holds that the conflict in Syria has been decided. The war is over. Bashar al-Assad and his regime won with the help of Iran, Russia, and Hezbollah; the opposition, the Kurds, and ISIS were defeated. Sure, some nasty things did happen, but it’s time to move on and rebuild the country.
“Turns out, conventional wisdom is not particularly wise. This war is not over. The killings have not stopped. The chemical gassings, the cluster bombs, the executions, the torture, the human trafficking the annihilation of entire villages – they all continue. For millions of trapped Syrians, the nightmare never ends. A small group of privileged men connected to the regime through family or business have amassed unimaginable fortunes as they control the war economy, trading everything – food, medicine, fuel, heating, oil, drugs, weapons, prisoners, young girls – and looting the destroyed cities for scrap metal, copper, steel, and anything of value. Like in all war, the only ones left are a few extremely rich individuals and many extremely poor people. Everyone in between has been wiped out. Yes, the war economy is alive and well, and this war will last as long as that remains the case.”
The insights that Levin offers throughout this book – and what I just quoted is but one example of the level of knowledge that he brings forth about of what is really going on in Syria – may differ from commonly accepted wisdom about what has happened in Syria of late. Yet, Levin’s profound understanding of the Middle East left me with only one conclusion about the Arab world: It is a cruel jungle, often surrounded by a façade of material wealth that only disguises the fact that it is thoroughly tribal in nature – and an extremely dangerous world in which to set foot.
Lucky for the Israelis who are now establishing connections throughout much of the region – they know what they’re getting into. They’ve been operating in what is probably the most dangerous neighbourhood in the world for a very long time. I’m sure that Israel has a lot of Daniel Levins around who know how to negotiate their way through the metaphorical landmines into which Israel is now stepping.
“Proof of Life” is set to be released to the public in May 2021.
Features
How Pioneer Families Kept Hebrew Alive on the Early Canadian Prairies
Canadian Prairies of the West and Jewish Pioneer Families
Early Western Canada boasted prairies and Jewish immigrant families’ settlements. Here is how they kept the Hebrew language alive and built makeshift schools.
Western Canada in the late 1800s was nothing more than plains. Wild grass and strong prairie winds covered the terrain. But that open land and freedom became a lifeline for thousands of Jewish immigrants. They were running from dangerous attacks in Europe to the safety of farm life in Canada. These families settled where there was nothing and the closest towns were miles away. They lived without electricity or running water. But even though every day was a survival for them, they managed to preserve their heritage and language.
Their effort to do so was enormous, but the information about it is mostly available in deep historical archives. If you need to write a detailed history paper on Canadian homesteaders, you’d probably be better off using the WritePaper academic help platform. Their experts have access to extensive knowledge bases, including numerous archives. If you just want to get a glimpse of how these families did it, here are some interesting facts.
Let’s start with the early farming towns these families built from scratch.
Early Farming Towns
Between 1880 and 1910, several Jewish farming towns started on the Canadian plains. These families left dangerous conditions in European countries like Russia, Lithuania, and Romania. They wanted a safe, fresh start on the land. They built farming communities with unique names like Hirsch, Wapella, Lipton, and Edenbridge in Saskatchewan. Other families started settlements like Bender Hamlet in Manitoba. When they first arrived, the land was completely wild and flat.
The weather was incredibly tough for the new farmers. The first winters were so cold that many families lived in sod dugouts. These were temporary homes dug right into the ground with roofs made of thick dirt and grass. Luckily, local Indigenous and Métis neighbors stepped in to help. They taught the newcomers how to build warm log cabins out of wood and clay. They also showed them how to survive freezing winter blizzards. Once the families had food and shelter, they focused on education. They knew that even though Yiddish was their everyday language, their kids still needed to learn Hebrew. Without Hebrew, their religious identity would fade away in the wilderness.
Classrooms out of Logs and Mud
How do you run a school when your neighbors live miles away? Several academic papers on this era show that starting a school required hard work and teamwork. One of the articles by Eric Stelee, who also writes for the best paper writing service WritePaper, points out that studying these early schools requires looking at deep community sacrifices. Farming families had to build everything with their own two hands. They set up Talmud Torahs. These were traditional afternoon Hebrew schools. Kids there were taught religious reading, writing, and daily prayers.
Building these schools, however, wasn’t the only problem pioneers came face to face with:
- Since trained teachers wouldn’t move to remote frontier farms, communities had to find and hire traveling tutors.
- Kids often had to walk or ride horses for many miles through deep snow just to get to a single lesson.
- Before permanent schoolhouses were finished, simple log cabins and small community halls had to double as schoolrooms during the week.
- Spring planting and fall harvest affected attendance significantly. Parents often needed their kids to help them in the fields.
Real Numbers of the Prairie Frontier
Old records show exactly how fast these prairie communities grew out of the wilderness. Between 1884 and 1912, Jewish families started 31 different farming communities across the Canadian prairies. The Canadian government offered 160 acres of wild land to any settler for a fee of just ten dollars. The only catch was that families had to clear the land and farm it successfully.
In 1892, a group of 47 families started the Hirsch community in Saskatchewan. Later, in 1906, another group of 56 pioneers started the Edenbridge community further north. By the year 1911, the official census counted exactly 2,066 Jewish people living in the province of Saskatchewan alone. These families proved that hard work could protect their language and history in a brand-new country.
The Tools of Prairie Learning
Books were very rare and expensive on the early Canadian frontier. Most families could only bring a few holy books packed tightly into their wooden trunks when they left Europe. These family treasures became the main textbooks for pioneer kids.
To keep their traditions alive without modern school supplies, families had to be creative:
- Parents spoke Yiddish at home, but they also repeated Hebrew prayers and holy songs aloud while cooking or feeding farm animals.
- They would gather kids around a single, worn-out family Bible to read the Hebrew letters together by the light of a lamp.
- Small towns shared their money to hire one person who worked as both the community butcher and the school teacher.
- Permanent wood synagogues, like the Beth Israel Synagogue built in 1908, became the centers for kids’ religious education.
Hebrew stayed alive as a sacred language on the flat plains because of these efforts. Kids learned the ancient alphabet and historic prayers while living thousands of miles away from big cultural cities.
Conclusion
Canadian prairie communities proved to the world that language and heritage can be preserved if you put your heart into it. Unfortunately, most of these farms disappeared during the Great Depression and the draw of big cities. But places like Edenbridge still exist today and have become important historic sites. These places keep memories of those mud and log schoolhouses alive.
Pioneer Jewish families that came to Canada in the 1800s had nothing, yet they still managed to pass knowledge down to their children. One candlelit lesson at a time.
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Why Modern Torah Scribes Still Mix Ink by Hand
It’s 2026 and Torah Scribes Still Mix Ink by Hand
Did you know that Jewish ritual scribes don’t actually use any of the modern printing tools? They still mix a 2,000-year-old ink recipe by hand and here is how.
Our lives are run by smartphones and computers. Everything can be typed or copied in a matter of minutes or even seconds. Yet, there is still a certain profession that rejects all these modern conveniences. They also reject the obsession with speed we have, exactly because of all these tools. These professionals are Sofrim. They are ritual scribes in Jewish communities. They are responsible for hand-writing Torah scrolls, holy books, and small mezuzah scrolls for doorways.
The contrast between their craft and the constant typing we are used to is striking. Just think of it. If a student or even a professional is pressed for time, they just go online and look for a writing service to help them out. A digital platform like PaperWriter can write and format an entire paper in just a few hours. But this same speed is the enemy of a holy Torah scribe. To write a sacred scroll, they must be deeply concentrated and slow about their process. Rush can’t be part of it. In fact, this special care begins before the pen touches the page. First, they gather the ingredients and mix the writing ink.
The Strict Rules of Sacred Ink
Why can’t a scribe just buy a bottle of high-quality black ink at a local art supply store? It all comes down to traditional Jewish law, which is called Halakha. A Torah scroll is a highly holy object with very strict manufacturing standards. A single scroll contains exactly 304,805 letters and takes a full year of daily manual labor to finish. If even a single letter fades, cracks, or peels off the page over time, the entire scroll becomes invalid. It cannot be used in a synagogue service until it is carefully repaired.
There is also a common myth that the ink itself must be “kosher.” But Jewish law actually focuses on durability and natural purity. While the parchment page absolutely must come from a kosher animal species, the ink simply needs to be permanent, deeply black, and made from scratch.
To make sure the holy words last for hundreds of years, the ink must follow these specific standards:
- Color. It must be a deep, solid jet-black color that is easy to read.
- Durability. The ink must bond with the skin page so it never flakes off.
- Texture. It must remain smooth enough to avoid cracking over the centuries.
Modern writers often focus on how much digital tools have changed our daily habits. As a blog writer for the paper writing service PaperWriter, Jacky M. points out, “modern text has become instant, temporary, and easily erasable.” Ritual scribes, however, take the opposite path. They preserve a slow, physical process that has remained unchanged for thousands of years. They make sure ancient texts endure for future generations.
The 2,000-Year-Old Ink Recipe
To get the perfect black color and long-lasting quality, scribes use a formula that dates back to ancient times. This traditional mixture is a special kind of iron gall ink. It creates a permanent chemical bond directly on the page.
The Raw Ingredients
Before beginning the brewing process, a scribe must gather a small collection of organic materials:
- Oak Galls. Round, woody bumps from oak trees that contain a natural acid.
- Iron Sulfate. A natural mineral salt that turns the liquid dark black.
- Gum Arabic. A sticky tree sap that acts as a natural glue.
- Pure Water. The liquid base for boiling the ingredients together.
The Preparation Steps
The process of turning these raw elements into smooth writing fluid requires a lot of patience and precision:
- The hard oak galls are crushed into a fine powder.
- The powder is boiled in water for several hours until it creates a dark, strong tea.
- Tea is strained to remove solid pieces of wood.
- The iron sulfate is then added to the warm liquid.
- The gum arabic is added last to give the liquid a thick, glossy texture.
The moment the iron touches the oak gall tea, a chemical reaction happens. The pale brown liquid instantly turns into a deep, pitch-black ink. The added gum arabic keeps the ink from dripping too fast off the tip of the scribe’s traditional quill or reed pen.
Why This Ancient Ink Lasts Longer
This handmade chemical compound is perfectly suited for parchment, which is made from processed animal skins. Modern factory inks are full of harsh chemicals and alcohols designed to dry instantly on wood-based paper. If you use factory ink on animal parchment, it will eventually ruin the surface. The letters will turn brittle, dry out, and fall off the page like old house paint.
Handmade iron gall ink works completely differently. It actually bites into the organic fibers of the animal skin. As the years go by, the iron in the ink reacts with the oxygen in the air. This chemical reaction causes the ink to get darker over time instead of fading away.
Conclusion
Some traditions are just too important to be simply replaced by automation. Yes, mixing the ink and writing a sacred text by hand takes time and focus. But the result is outstanding. The tradition is preserved, and these holy texts look and feel the same as they did a thousand years ago. It’s a way for people to touch and be closer to history, so to speak.
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Book Review: A Touching Memoir of the Holocaust in Ukraine
Reviewed By HENRY SREBRNIK
“Honor”
By Nataliia Mariichyn, Leon Buchwald, and Susan McClelland
Astra Young Readers, New York
240 pg.
$19.99 USD, ($25.99 CDN).
This is an unusual memoir that moves forward and back between modern Ukraine’s troubles and those of that country’s tragic past during the Second World War. It recounts a tale of two individuals — a Ukrainian teen in the early 2010s and a Jewish boy in hiding in Nazi-occupied Ukraine — whose lives are entwined through a box of letters.
It’s true that of the writing of Holocaust memoirs there is no end. But that’s not a critique, it’s as it should be. The Holocaust was the greatest Jewish tragedy since the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem almost 2,000 years ago.
A collaborative project of Nataliia Mariichyn, the late Leon Buchwald, and author Susan McClelland, Honor, published this year and intended for younger readers, falls into the category of people who were saved by friends or neighbours. It is narrated by Nataliia, who is a Ukrainian teenager in Ivano-Frankivsk living in an independent Ukraine in 2013-2014, when she comes across a pile of letters from World War II that had been saved by her grandmother, Katherine.
Written by Leizer (Leon) between 1941 and 1945, the letters are interspersed with reactions by Nataliia, who would go on to tell this story. Certain scenes and dialogues have been recreated using Leizer’s letters, as well as personal recollections from both Leizer’s and Nataliia’s families, including her grandmother and great-aunts. It is now a Canadian story.
Eliezer Buchwald was born in Stanislawow (now Ivano-Frankivsk) in what was then Poland, in 1929. He was the youngest of three children. His sister Shloma, the eldest, was four years older, and brother Zelig, two years older. His father, a merchant, was well respected by the Christian farmers in the region around Tlumacz.
World War II began in September 1939, and Poland was divided between Hitler and Stalin; the part they lived in was annexed by the Soviet Union. In 1941, however, Hitler’s armies invaded the USSR. “Nazis were now marching toward Russia, and we were right in their path,” Leizer wrote. Some villagers in the area painted white crosses on their doors so Nazis would know when they arrived that they were not Jews. “People who had always said hello now looked down at their shoes, pretending we were not there.”
Leizer and Shloma escape into the forests as the Nazis arrive, but their mother Berta and Zelig are captured. She manages to escape, but Zelig is never seen again. Leizer, Shloma and their mother eventually find refuge in a cave: “We lived the winter of 1942 in darkness.” During these harrowing years, several Jewish families sought refuge in the extensive gypsum caves of Western Ukraine. One of the most notable shelters was Priest’s Grotto, a labyrinthine cave stretching over 124 kilometres.
Leizer leaves the cave at one point and is betrayed and captured by German soldiers but manages to escape. He saw only one viable solution. He had to go to their pre-war neighbor, a farmer. “There was nowhere else for me to turn.” He returns to his old home and the Ukrainian farmer who knows him allows him to stay and pretend to be his own son. Eventually Shloma and Berta join him.
“As he’d promised, Shloma and I worked the farm, tilling the soil for planting. We wore the farmer’s son’s old clothes. Shloma tucked her hair under a hat and from a distance, even I thought she was a boy. The farmer’s wife made us two meals a day. She often sat with Mameh while Shloma and I were in the fields. The farmer reiterated the Nazis were looking for me, even now offering a reward for anyone who turned me in.”
He and his wife “are angels who were put on our path,” Mameh said several times that winter. “Honor them like angels. Leizer, if we ever get out of here, if the war ends, and we have freedom again, remember the farmer and his wife.” When the war ended, the farmer smiled. “I will never forget you,” he said to Leizer, with a warm smile. “You are my second son.”
Nataliia’s grandmother Katherine’s own memories begin to return. “Leizer managed to outwit his captors, you know. My father said he was very hard to catch. Leizer became a man long before his childhood ended. Good people did bad things to him and his family during that time.”
It turns out that Nataliia’s great-grandfather Grigoriy Palivoda and his wife Mariya were the couple who saved them. “The Nazis were looking for Leizer,” Nataliia’s grandmother tells her. “I knew where he was hiding. I always did, but I told no one. He became my secret. For the longest time, I didn’t know that my father and mother even knew he was there.”
The book juxtaposes the stories of the war with Nataliia’s recollection of what was happening in Ukraine in 2013-2014 as pro-democracy Ukrainians struggled, in the Maidan protests, to free themselves of the pro-Russian kleptocrats running the country. It makes for an interesting contrast.
Following liberation, Leizer, Shloma, and Berta lived in the Tlumacz area for several months and then were able to move west to a Displaced Person’s camp in Germany. While there, Shloma met Yitzchak, whom she had known prior to the invasion, and they married. Leizer and his mother immigrated to Montreal in the fall of 1948, and Shloma and her husband arrived not long after. Shloma adopted the name Lucia upon arriving in Canada. Berta changed her name to Bryna, and Leizer changed his name to Leon Buchwald. A personal note: Miriam Buchwald Gordon, daughter of Leon and his wife Toba, whom he met after the war and who was also a Holocaust survivor, is a friend of mine.
Leon Buchwald died on May 30, 2018. He never returned to Ukraine. In the spring of 2022, Leon and Lucia’s descendants, including their children and grandchildren, sponsored Nataliia’s relocation to Canada to escape the ongoing conflict between Russia and Ukraine.
Nataliia great-grandparents are now among the 2,673 Ukrainians who, as of 2023, have been recognized by Yad Vashem as Righteous Among the Nations. Ukraine is among the countries with the highest number of individuals recognized for their courageous actions during this dark period in history. This story, like others, captures both the cruelty and humanity of ordinary people caught up in situations not of their making.
Henry Srebrnik is a professor emeritus of political science at the University of Prince Edward Island.