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Israel’s dual crises, explained
If it feels like there’s an overload of news out of Israel — a sea of flags at a Jerusalem protest, police sirens outside of a synagogue — that’s because there is. Israel has been consumed by two escalating crises that both appear to be crescendoing at the same time. And even though they feel separate, they’re intertwined in at least one big way.
Allow us to explain:
Israel is simultaneously contending with two things: a wave of Palestinian terror attacks and Israeli military raids in the West Bank, and massive protests of a government plan to constrain the courts. Each of these two news stories is significant by itself, and would likely command the world’s attention if it were happening alone. But it’s not exactly a coincidence that they’re happening together.
What is happening right now?
The Israeli news that has captured the world’s notice over the past few weeks — and drawn criticism from President Joe Biden — is the ongoing right-wing effort to sap the power of Israel’s courts. The Israeli government that took power in December wants to take control over the appointment of judges and effectively remove the Supreme Court’s ability to strike down laws. Backers of the plan say the courts have essentially become an instrument of the country’s left-wing minority, leaving the right-wing majority unable to pass laws and govern.
But one poll found that just a quarter of Israelis support the plan in its current form, and hundreds of thousands have taken to the streets in protest. Satellite protests have sprung up in cities outside of Israel, organized by people who oppose Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu due to his ongoing trial for corruption.
Observers warn that the court reform will remove a key element of what makes democracies democratic — the separation of powers between the executive and judicial branches. Entrepreneurs in Israel’s tech sector are pulling their business out of the country in protest of the decision.
Nevertheless, in the face of a 100,000-person protest in Jerusalem on Monday, the government pushed the plan forward — though it has also signaled that it’s open to negotiations over the proposal.
Alongside the social unrest, a series of violent attacks have shaken the West Bank and eastern Jerusalem. Two Friday attacks by Palestinians in Israeli eastern Jerusalem neighborhoods — one in late January and one on Feb. 10 — killed 10 civilians, including three children.
The homes of the perpetrators will likely be demolished, and in response to the attacks, Israel authorized nine settlement outposts it had previously considered illegal. The United States condemned the decision.
On Monday, an Israeli border police officer died after being stabbed by a 13-year-old Palestinian and then being hit with friendly fire from a security guard. It’s the latest in a string of attacks by teenagers.
Those attacks have taken place against the backdrop of Israeli military raids in the West Bank that have killed dozens of Palestinians. According to Israel and its supporters, the dead are almost entirely militants. But last month, two civilians were killed in an Israeli raid on the northern West Bank City of Jenin that saw 10 total fatalities. Several teenagers have also been among the Palestinians killed. On Saturday, an Israeli settler shot and killed a Palestinian man following an altercation.
And this week, violence in the West Bank again received global attention when a staff writer for the New Yorker filmed an Israeli soldier beating a Palestinian activist in Hebron. The soldier was jailed for 10 days.
Are these two stories connected?
No, and yes.
On one hand, one of these stories is legislative and the other concerns the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. The street protesters are, by and large, not coming out in opposition to Israel’s policies in the West Bank — and the Palestinian attackers almost definitely aren’t motivated by an opposition to judicial reform.
But on the other hand, both the judicial reform and the escalation are taking place under the watch of Netanyahu’s new government, the most right-wing in the country’s history. The same right-wing factions that are trumpeting the judicial reform are pushing for a harsher and more widespread crackdown on the Palestinian attacks — and looser rules of engagement for soldiers. Meanwhile, the same Supreme Court that the government wishes to restrain also rules on the legality of certain counterterrorism measures — including the demolition of attackers’ homes.
Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich, whose Religious Zionism party is leading the charge on constraining the courts, also tweeted on Monday that teenage Palestinian attackers “blossom in a violent and inciting society that brainwashes them with hatred of Israel.” He called on Israel to “exact a heavy price” for such incitement. His ally, far-right National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir, protested the military’s decision to punish the soldier who beat the Palestinian activist.
“I support the soldier who didn’t stay quiet with all my strength,” Ben-Gvir tweeted. “Soldiers need to receive support, not jail time.”
Is there going to be another intifada?
The second intifada — in which a series of Palestinian terror attacks in cafes, buses and other public spaces in the early 2000s killed approximately 1,000 Israelis — traumatized a generation of Israelis. Israeli retaliatory measures during that time killed thousands of Palestinians, and since then, hopes for peace have faded.
There have been waves of terrorism in the intervening decades, though none as intense as the intifada 20 years ago. It is too soon to tell whether attacks will rise to that level, though the violence does not appear to be ending anytime soon. According to Israeli reports, Palestinian terror groups are encouraging teenagers to carry out attacks on Israelis.
And members of Israel’s government are agitating for an escalation of counterterror measures in ways that recall Israeli actions during the intifada. In 2002, in response to the terror attacks, Israel launched Operation Defensive Shield, which saw Israeli soldiers enter Palestinian population centers in the West Bank to root out terror groups. Following Friday’s terror attack in Jerusalem, Ben Gvir proposed “Defensive Shield 2.”
“I am determined to bring about Defensive Shield 2 in Jerusalem,” he tweeted, pledging to “demolish illegal buildings, to arrest more than 150 targets and to spread out across the houses, to stop the incitement in the mosques, to stop those who owe tax money and much more.”
Is Israeli society collapsing?
Fears of a societal break are growing, and even President Isaac Herzog warned of looming disaster. Herzog, whose role is largely ceremonial, gave a landmark speech on Sunday begging for negotiations and compromise over the judicial reforms.
“For a while, we have no longer been in a political debate, but are on the brink of constitutional and social collapse,” Herzog, a former leader of the Labor opposition party who once ran against Netanyahu, said early in the speech. “I feel, we all feel, that we are in the moment before a clash, even a violent clash. The gunpowder barrel is about to explode.”
In response, the government delayed part of the bill’s legislative advance, but it remains to be seen whether there will be meaningful negotiations over its content. In the interim, Israelis are broadcasting fears of civil war. On Tuesday, former Prime Minister Naftali Bennett, an opponent of Netanyahu, shared a video from a Jewish think tank announcing a societal dialogue initiative.
Over the melody of Israel’s national anthem, the video reviews past moments of societal rupture — among them the assassination of Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin in 1995, and Israel’s withdrawal from Gaza a decade later — and then says, “February 2023: We did not begin a civil war.”
Netanyahu has responded to the protests by decrying calls for violence, accusing his opponents of fomenting anarchy, and calling for calm. But in a speech on Sunday, he reiterated that his government won a majority and intends to legislate accordingly.
“This government received the trust of the people in democratic elections, and a clear mandate from Israel’s citizens,” he said. “No one here can doubt that.”
It’s hard to say what the future will hold, but it’s clear that this moment has the potential to transform into something more dangerous than what has already taken place.
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The visionary Jewish poet who survived the Holocaust but not its aftermath
Paul Celan: A Life
By Anna Arno
Translated by Soren Gauger
Belknap Press/Harvard University Press, 416 pages, $35
During a 1969 poetry reading in Israel, Paul Celan’s audience requested “Deathfugue,” his most famous poem. With its hypnotic images of death as “a master from Deutschland,” prisoners drinking the “black milk of dawn” and smoke rising to “a grave in the clouds,” it remains one of the most powerful artifacts of the Holocaust.
But like a rock star weary of endlessly repeating his greatest hits, Celan declined. Instead, he offered other poems, scorned by some commentators as “hermetic, esoteric, divorced from reality.”
So we learn from Anna Arno’s intelligent, intricate biography, Paul Celan: A Life, ably translated from the Polish by Soren Gauger. Interweaving literary criticism with Celan’s life story, Arno quotes liberally from Pierre Joris’ English translations. Even so, she can’t quite do the work justice. In translation and wrenched from their poetic context, Celan’s innovative verses, credited with a radical remaking of the German language, come across as cryptic and impenetrable.
Arno covers Celan’s schooling, wartime experiences, work history, travels, friendships, psychiatric ordeals and overlapping romantic interests, at times departing from strict chronology. Though defensible, the narrative strategy renders the book somewhat convoluted.
One thread is Celan’s intermittent, decadeslong involvement with the accomplished Austrian poet and novelist Ingeborg Bachmann. That relationship, more passionate and enduring for Bachmann, preceded his mostly happy marriage to the French artist Gisèle Lestrange and continued during it. In an odd twist, Bachmann and Lestrange, bonded by both their love for Celan and their anxiety about his well-being, developed “a kind of impossible sisterly friendship.”
Despite Celan’s devotion to his wife, “other women,” Arno writes, “were always drifting through his life.” A chapter toward the end of the biography details some of Celan’s most important romantic relationships. Other chapters focus on his inventiveness as a translator and his worsening mental illness.
Celan was born Paul Antschel in 1920 in Czernowitz, Romania (officially Cernăuți, and now Chernivtsi, Ukraine) on the fringes of the recently defunct Austro-Hungarian Empire. The French-sounding Celan is a pen name, an anagram of Ancel, a Romanian version of Antschel.
Celan’s parents were German-speaking Jews, and German was Celan’s native language. But he was a polyglot, a talent that shaped his poetry and enabled his career as a translator. Along with Romanian, in which he wrote some early poems, and French, the language of his postwar life in Paris, he learned Russian (under Soviet occupation) and English. He had at least “a passive knowledge of Yiddish,” picked up enough Hebrew for his Bar Mitzvah and studied Italian, Latin and Greek. “His intellectual ease gave him a sense of superiority,” Arno writes.
World War II interrupted Celan’s medical studies in France, and back home he enrolled in Romance language courses. The Soviet occupation was brutal but, for Jews, the Romanian fascist regime that succeeded it was worse. Celan’s parents were deported and died in a Nazi labor camp. Celan, separated from them, survived forced labor, but remained “wracked with grief” over his parents’ fate. He would describe “Deathfugue,” written in 1945, as his mother’s epitaph and grave. The poem may have influenced Theodor Adorno, who famously described poetry after Auschwitz as “barbaric,” to modify his views.
After leaving a ruined Czernowitz for Bucharest, where Celan translated, wrote poetry, flirted with Surrealism and “bounced from one relationship to the next,” he traveled to Vienna. “Young, dashing, full of charm,” he eventually settled in Paris and became a naturalized French citizen. But he chose German as his poetic language, despite the emotional dissonance that entailed.
Over the years, he traveled to Germany to read his work and accept prizes. In the process, he developed relationships with leading postwar German writers, including Heinrich Böll, Hans Magnus Enzensberger and Günter Grass. But the 1950s were a tricky time. “He could have crossed paths with a murderer at every step,” Arno writes.
Celan recoiled viscerally at what he saw as persistent antisemitic currents in German culture, which hadn’t yet reckoned with the magnitude of Nazi crimes. He interpreted bad reviews as instances of antisemitism, and Arno suggests that he wasn’t always wrong.
Even more traumatic were accusations of plagiarism leveled against him by Claire Goll, the widow of Yvan Goll, whose poetry he had translated. Arno describes the charges as both malicious and baseless, and “probably an act of revenge for her spurned advances.”
They nevertheless affected Celan’s reputation and threatened his health. “Claire Goll’s smear campaign was to become the main cause of the poet’s mental breakdown,” Arno asserts. It’s a strong statement. Certainly, he had endured other losses: the murder of his parents, the death of his day-old infant son, François, after a botched delivery.
On the cusp of middle age, Arno reports, Celan experienced bursts of paranoia. “He could not always separate justified precautions from obsessive mistrust, vigilance from a fit of persecution mania,” she writes. “His deeply buried despair, moral severity, and tempestuous personality all caused sudden and violent fits.”
In 1962, he had what Arno calls “his first bout of psychosis,” which included hallucinations and violent episodes. He was hospitalized and medicated and underwent psychotherapy. Insulin injections, a since-discredited treatment, damaged his motor skills. Even during his hospitalizations, he continued to write poetry. (His productivity in the throes of mental health crises calls to mind Sylvia Plath.)
Arno, noting that Celan’s medical records remain sealed and his journals unavailable, doesn’t offer a diagnosis. The hallucinations and paranoia suggest schizophrenia, but Arno also mentions mania and depression, along with numerous suicide attempts. He tried his best to stay connected to his only child, Eric. But his instability cost him many friendships and ultimately his marriage.
In 1970, the 49-year-old poet drowned himself in the Seine, joining a sad company of writers who survived the Holocaust but not its emotional aftermath. What exactly triggered Celan’s suicide is impossible to know. Arno says only: “He was no longer capable of supporting the weight of the past as it flushed to the surface.”
The post The visionary Jewish poet who survived the Holocaust but not its aftermath appeared first on The Forward.
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‘The Naked Woman’ asks — what would Jewish Chekhov look like?
Earlier this year, a lauded revival of Anton Chekhov’s overlooked opus Ivanov occasioned the question: What if Chekhov, that great chronicler of overeducated depressives, was a bit more Jewish?
That show has a substantial Jewish subplot, with the title character’s wife subjected to antisemitic smears.
For Jewish Russians, Chekhov, like his great interpreter Stanislavsky, is a part of the culture they still claim. For that reason expat companies, like Igor Golyak’s Arlekin Players, have long been in the business of reinterpreting him. Novelist Gary Shteyngart, in his pandemic novel, Our Country Friends, took things a step further, transmuting Chekhov’s dachas into the Belleville bungalow colony where he, and many ex-Soviet Jews, would summer.
Allie Avital and Alia Azamat Ashkenazi’s The Naked Woman, now in a limited run at 154 Theater, returns this proposition to the stage with some usual markers of the Russian master: characters brought low by their own inertia, a love triangle, frustrated ambitions and failures to launch. Into the mix they add the following staples of first generation Jews: immigrant parents’ expectations and the tension between the generation that recalls the weight of repression and the rising one that has only ever known American freedom. There are obligatory references to rabbis; the word “mensch” is dropped, but this is not a Shabbat-observing crew. If you know this specific demographic, there’s no doubting the affiliation.
Misha (Ilia Volok and Roman Freud alternate the role — Freud played him my evening), a successful architect, who moved to the U.S. decades before for a better life. For the New Year, and his birthday, he has made camp at his upstate country home. Some creaky exposition — on Pili Weeber’s set of floating timber, the Empire State’s answer to birch trees — sets up the interpersonal tensions that will go off in later acts like Chekhov’s proverbial gun.
Misha’s 35-year-old daughter Dasha (MaryKate Glenn) tells him his last check for her grad school tuition bounced. She’s there with her all-American boyfriend and is secretly pregnant. His bohemian older brother Grisha (Dima Koan), ever-clad in funky sweaters and kerchiefs by costume designer Kostya Goncharuk, resents Misha for their parents’ decision to only pay for his higher education and for being dependent on him for income. Rina (Natasha Goubskaya), Misha’s long-suffering wife is quietly working to save the family from financial ruin.
With these pieces set in place, the holiday is interrupted by, as advertised, a naked woman, screaming for help. Dismissing her as a “druggie in the woods,” Misha does nothing, a choice that brings questions of insularity and assimilation to the fore.
Dasha can’t get over her father’s inaction.
Rina explains it: “This American obsession with caring about strangers It’s all words and ideas. It’s THEATER. It doesn’t mean anything.”
The play is based on a short film by Avital, an accomplished director of visually-striking music videos for the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Olivia Rodrigo and Moses Sumney. In that more abridged version, with mostly Russian dialogue, the Naked Woman stands in for the forces of mortality.
As one character in that film notes, in Russian, the word for death is “in the feminine, and therefore death is a woman. When death doesn’t hide, doesn’t wear a disguise, then it’s naked.”
Here the character is a more elusive metaphor: an avatar for Misha’s selfishness, the rift between his and Dasha’s concern for others or maybe her perception of herself as vulnerable and in need of saving. She could also be Rina’s aching feeling of neglect.
Avital and Ashkenazi’s background in film — Ashkenazi has a long resumé as a script supervisor and directed the short Esther’s Choice — is evident in the drama’s pacing. The piece doesn’t have the patience of Chekhov, who lets the action settle around the samovar and steep in subtext. This makes the show more dynamic, but more superficial in its psychology.
“I’ve always wondered why no one can truly love me, why they always leave me,” Dasha tells her father, coming off a monologue that hits the ear like a stilted translation of The Seagull’s yearning actress Nina or Vanya’s tragically dutiful Sonya. “But now I understand why. Because I’m just like you.”
It’s a tidy thesis, from creatives whose film work lives on the power of suggestion, with cinematography and movement being the major narrative force. Though Avital’s staging is capable, the script is crying out for an injection of subtlety that perhaps only a closeup can deliver.
This play is something of a proof of concept for a forthcoming feature film to be directed by Avital. If the short is any indication, its words and ideas may translate better taking a step away from the theater.
It may not be the natural medium for Chekhov, but it’s well-suited to his heirs.
Allie Avital and Alia Azamat Ashkenazi’s The Naked Woman is playing through June 14 at Theatre 154 in Manhattan. Tickets and more information can be found here.
The post ‘The Naked Woman’ asks — what would Jewish Chekhov look like? appeared first on The Forward.
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Iran says it has finished striking Israel, after Trump says both countries ‘must immediately stop’
(JTA) — Iran says it has completed its attack on Israel after its missile barrage on Sunday night launched the first direct exchange of hostilities since April.
Iran’s military command said the barrage, which did not do any major damage in Israel, represented its “painful response” to an Israeli attack on a Hezbollah installation in Lebanon. The statement was published in English on Iranian state media, which attributed the halt to pressure from U.S. President Donald Trump.
Trump had denounced the Iranian strike and publicly urged Israel not to respond. On Monday morning, after it did, he posted on his Truth Social account: “Israel and Iran must immediately stop ‘shooting.’”
Israel responded to the initial barrage with a large-scale airstrike against Iranian defense systems on Monday morning local time.
The Israeli military announced that the strike targeted Iran’s strategic defense systems and hit several targets in Iran’s petrochemical complex in Mahshahr in southwestern Iran. The military said the systems had been “degraded” during the February “Operation Roaring Lion” war and that “the strike led to the destruction of these systems.”
Shortly after the Israeli strike, Iran launched a second round of missiles into Israel, sending families into shelters. Schools were already canceled for Monday following Sunday night’s attacks.
According to local Israeli media, explosions were heard in Isfahan and Kermanshah, and Iranian Foreign Minister Esmaeil Baghaei blamed the United States for Israel’s response.
The Israeli response came after Trump told Axios Sunday night that he would tell Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to not respond to the attacks. “I am going to call Bibi right now,” Trump told the news site, “and tell him not to retaliate.”
He added that both countries had “had their fun. Israel had its strike, and Iran had its strike. We don’t need another one.”
In a second Truth Social post on Monday, Trump wrote that “ignorance and stupidity” were hampering the already fragile Iran-Israel ceasefire negotiations. “The Blockade will remain in place, and in full force and effect, until a “Final Deal” is reached,” he wrote.
The U.S. Navy imposed a blockade of Iranian ports on ships traveling to and from Iran on April 13. Trump made the decision after the collapse of talks aimed at permanently ending the five-week war the U.S. launched against Iran on Feb. 28 and Iran closed the Strait of Hormuz on March 2.
Meanwhile, on Monday morning the Iran-backed Houthi terror group in Yemen launched a single missile into Israel. No injuries were reported. Later, the Iranian-backed group said it would impose a complete naval blockade on Israeli ships in the Red Sea.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
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