Posts by Miriam Shaviv

Chasidic woman's flight from New York Orthodox life

Miriam Shaviv — Fri, 25 May 2012 10:39:55 +0100

Unorthodox is an account of Deborah Feldman’s Chasidic upbringing in New York, her unhappiness at what she sees as her oppression, and ultimately her escape into secular society. Inevitably, the Satmar community in which Feldman grew up has responded aggressively, accusing her of mistakes, omissions and outright lies.

Most of these seem to be either very minor, or covered by Feldman’s disclaimer at the beginning of the book, in which she explains that she has changed certain details in order to protect the identity of others and maintain narrative flow. Judged on its own merits, the book is a mixed bag.

Feldman, now 25, was always going to stand out in a conservative, conformist society. Her English-born mother ran off to live as a lesbian; her father was a person of limited capability. She was brought up by her paternal grandparents, elderly Holocaust survivors. Her other relatives, Feldman suggests, were embarrassed by the stain she imposed upon the family honour.

Feldman resents her grandparents’ spartan lifestyle and the strictness of her religious girls’ school, but her main source of unhappiness is the limited education it gave her. She is a voracious — secret — reader of secular novels. At 17, she is married off to a man she has met only once. The marriage is hobbled from the beginning by Feldman’s vaginismus — a condition, most common in women who grow up in repressive religious environments, which makes sex painful or impossible. It takes a year for her to overcome this, and they have a son together, but she still cannot forgive her husband for briefly leaving her. Eventually, she puts on a pair of jeans, enrols in a secular college and leaves her old life behind.

Feldman writes well, especially given her early education. The book’s strength is its raw emotion: her anger — and relief — are palpable.
In a way, though, this is also the book’s weakness. Feldman lacks empathy for others who might be equally trapped, such as her husband, or for her loving grandparents. Everything to do with Satmar is bad. No doubt the society in which she grew up was spectacularly intolerant of difference and independent thinking. But her story is as much that of a child of a troubled, broken home as it is of a Chasidic rebel.

She does occasionally acknowledge that other women throughout history have been trapped by circumstance and marriage. At her college, she understands that some of her all-American classmates are as frustrated with their lives as she was with hers. Escaping into general society is the beginning of the journey, not the end. And, cathartic as her flight may have been, more of that perspective would have been welcome.

Pollard the spy is no Zionist hero

Miriam Shaviv — Thu, 19 Apr 2012 16:42:32 +0100

Early this month, Israeli President Shimon Peres sent a personal missive to Barack Obama, asking for clemency for convicted spy Jonathan Pollard. The very next day, Obama rejected the plea, practically by return mail.

Perhaps this was meant to make up for his reaction in January 2011, when Benjamin Netanyahu issued Israel's first formal appeal, and Obama never bothered issuing a response. Either way, his attitude, just like that of his predecessors, is perfectly clear.

So why have the Israelis wasted precious diplomatic capital on a sure loser? They are playing to the domestic audience. Support for Pollard is a vote-winner, particularly on the right, where he is perceived to be a Zionist martyr and victim of antisemitism.

This is a result of years of vigorous campaigning by Pollard's supporters. True Zionists, however, should recoil at the Pollard publicity machine, which makes a mockery of those who really were willing to sacrifice their lives and freedom for Israel, such as the Soviet prisoners or Israel's missing soldiers.

Pollard was hardly an ideologue - at least not until he was caught and needed the support of America's Jews. He acted for money. His spying activities for Israel earned him tens of thousands of dollars and he expected to earn up to half-a-million.

Nor did he care to which country he sold America's secrets. The Americans allege that he attempted to pass documents to Pakistan, South Africa and Australia. Israel only became Pollard's main client because it alone would pay for his information.

So how was Pollard transformed into a Jewish hero? We are suckers for any narrative involving a Jewish convict for historical reasons. Historically, prisoners were often subject to mistreatment and injustice - according to Maimonides, they may be "hungry, thirsty, unclothed… in danger of their lives" - so Jewish law made it a special mitzvah to redeem them.

Somehow, this imperative, meant for kidnapped Jews in medieval times, has been transferred to a man convicted of actual crimes in a country ruled by law and order, the goldeneh medina no less.

It was easy once the convict professed to have acted altruistically for the greater good of the Jewish people, styling himself a victim rather than a greedy criminal. The fact is, none of us knows the full extent of the material Pollard betrayed, where it ended up or whether it cost any American lives. As such, we are all inherently unqualified to state - as so many do - that Pollard has served "too much time" or "does not deserve" the life sentence he was given.

For every expert arguing that Pollard has paid his dues, there is another arguing the opposite. In any case, this is a red herring, as the Pollard campaign was going strong before he had been in jail for a decade. For some people, apparently, any jail time was too much.

Ultimately, if the Americans decide to pardon Pollard, or release him on humanitarian grounds, that is their affair. It is the turning of him into a Zionist hero to which I object - as well as the price that Israel will be asked to pay for his freedom.

Make no mistake. If and when an American president does free Pollard, Israel will be asked to offer up some substantial sacrifice in return - perhaps another freeze of settlement-building or territorial compromise with the Palestinians.

These gestures have serious implications for Israel's future, and the country should only offer them in return for arrangements that increase its strategic advantage in the region or make a genuine difference to the peace process. They should not be bargained away in return for a James Bond wannabe who was willing to sell out to Pakistan.

Time to rethink the Tanach?

Miriam Shaviv — Thu, 08 Mar 2012 11:36:29 +0000

How much of the Tanach is literally true?

This was the focus of a talk at the London School of Jewish Studies last week. The panel - Menachem Leibtag, Shmuel Klitsner and Jonathan Bailey, all leading American-Israeli modern Orthodox scholars - was in agreement. The Torah is God-given, but not all the stories necessarily happened exactly as written. Rather, they are often pedagogical tools, styled to convey the lessons God wants humanity to learn. Some, said Rabbi Leibtag, are to be taken "seriously, not literally".

Among Orthodox Anglo-Jewry, this is highly controversial stuff, which is perhaps why there were no Brits on the panel. The evening was billed as a "cutting-edge, non-apologetic debate". Leaving the packed hall, one person commented that such a debate would never be allowed in their United Synagogue shul. Not only would the answer be judged heretical, so would the question.

This is not the case elsewhere. The evening's most instructive moment came when Rabbi Klitsner admitted that he struggled to understand why LSJS was so keen on the topic. No one he knew, he said, really worried about the historicity of the Tanach. In Israeli and American modern Orthodox circles, the implication was that the Bible stories' occasional slip into allegory, metaphor or literary device was either taken for granted or debated openly - as it was among classical commentators.

So why is it such a dangerous spot for us? Rabbi Klitsner suggested that it is human nature to find fluidity difficult, which I understood to mean that the inability to pinpoint exactly which Tanach elements are literally true can be threatening.

But there are other, more local reasons. The shadow of the Louis Jacobs Affair looms large. His banishment from Orthodoxy, following the publication of We Have Reason to Believe, effectively shut down the possibility of open discussion about anything to do with biblical theology. Since then, literal belief in all Tanach stories has become a litmus test for Charedi Judaism.

Meanwhile, our US rabbis must self-censor to keep their jobs. Unlike their American and Israeli counterparts, who answer only to their members or boards, they answer to a conservative body, the US, and its Charedi beth din. The perception, if not reality, is that they act as thought police. As the relationship between Orthodox and Progressives in this country is so fraught, a particular obsession is avoiding anything that sounds even vaguely "Reform", even if it is a perfectly legitimate Orthodox point of view.

Anglo-Jewry has also never nurtured its intellectuals or theologians. America has Yeshiva University, Israel has Bar-Ilan and many good yeshivot. Both countries have produced scores of serious Jewish scholars and thinkers. We have Lord Sacks.

Yet questions around the authenticity of our texts will not disappear. The only way to avoid them is to isolate ourselves from the modern world, which is not a realistic or desirable option for most Jews.

As the standing-room-only LSJS event showed, there is a thirst amongst some Orthodox Jews for sophisticated discussion of theological issues. It is only natural: educated to a high standard in other areas, why should they make do with simplistic answers - or no answers - in the Jewish realm? When we are taught critical thinking at good universities, why should any Jewish theological question be considered taboo?

Some may find this approach frightening. But, equally, our inability to discuss these issues maturely has turned many good people off religion altogether. We are no less intelligent than our American and Israeli peers. Why, then, can we not have the same standards of theological discussion?

Israel's real Charedi revolution

Miriam Shaviv — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 11:37:37 +0000

Is Israel really in danger of being overrun by Charedi religious extremists?

It certainly feels like it. In recent weeks, Charedi activists have repeatedly excluded women from the public sphere, consigning them to the back of buses, forbidding them from walking on certain pavements, and even verbally harassing and spitting at young girls on their way to school for their allegedly immodest clothing.

Such is the climate of intimidation that, in the capital, secular ad agencies have stopped putting women on posters in order to avoid strictly Orthodox wrath.

But the hysteria - for such it is - must stop. Israel is not moving from democracy to theocracy and, despite the best attempts of their extremists, the Charedim are not going to force the rest of the population to submit to a misogynist future. In reality, the Charedi population is assimilating to the secular state, not the other way around.

Most of the incidents that have shaken Israel involve a very limited number of people. The gender-segregated pavements are confined to a few streets in Bet Shemesh, Bnei Brak and Jerusalem - which, despite its national significance, is increasingly regarded as Charedi or "foreign" territory by other Israelis. The schoolgirls are being harassed by a handful of men. This is not in any way to minimise the severity of these phenomena; they are despicable and must be stamped out. However, they pose no immediate threat to the country as a whole.

Meanwhile, mainstream Charedim are heading in a different direction. Even within the past five years, they have opened up significantly to the rest of Israeli society, with taboos such as IDF service and higher education softening considerably. Last year, out of 7,500 eligible Charedi youth, 2,360 enlisted or performed national service (up 284 per cent since 2008), while more than 2,000 men and women study in Charedi colleges, and thousands more complete other diplomas.

There are also more Charedim in the workplace than ever before, and wide exposure to the internet, with Charedi news sites thriving despite repeated rabbinic attempts to shut them down.

The irony is that it is this very positive process of integration that seems to be sparking the exclusion of women, as it terrifies the more conservative elements of the community. Faced with modernisation, they push towards isolation. They succeed partially because of the compliance of general society, which assumes that the most extreme views are the most authentic and representative; and also because the current Charedi leaders choose, actively or by staying silent, to reinforce this impression.

But, ultimately, the extremists cannot hope to reverse the slow but steady revolution. The most senior Charedi leaders are very old men (the top Ashkenazi rabbi, Yosef Shalom Elyashiv, who this month condemned serving in the IDF and studying secular topics, is 101). Soon, a generation that was born in the state of Israel and is more modern in its outlook will take their place.

Most importantly, integration is inevitable for economic reasons. Too many Charedim no longer want to live a life of poverty.

After the anger they have sparked, the extremists also face a secular backlash. It seems likely that journalist Yair Lapid, who has just announced his entry into politics, will campaign on a secularist manifesto, following the lead of his father Tommy, who won 15 seats for Shinui in 2003 on the same populist platform.

Should the secularists become pivotal to a coalition, they will hopefully resist the impulse to punish the Charedim and instead find constructive ways to encourage the masses who wish to study and work. That is what will really change Israel for the better, and is the real Charedi story today.

What are the Orthodox afraid of?

Miriam Shaviv — Mon, 14 Nov 2011 10:25:02 +0000

It would be easy for those of us who belong to the Orthodox community to be angry at the furore surrounding the Big Tent. The organiser, Rabbi Jonathan Guttentag, has been forced by the Board of Deputies and the JLC into an embarrassing climb-down over his refusal to invite Progressive rabbis to speak, and has now created an independent committee, including two Progressive representatives, to approve the choice of speakers. The row has probably put paid to his chief rabbinical chances, although he has good credentials and backers.

What, after all, was his sin? He behaved no differently towards Progressives than the Orthodox establishment in the UK ever has, refusing to share a platform with their rabbinical representatives. As Rabbi Guttentag told the JC: "It is a well-known mode of conduct and policy of Orthodox rabbis to seek not to grant rabbinic legitimacy to those who are styled as 'rabbi' but who are leaders of non-Orthodox congregations."

But that was exactly his sin. It may be a "well-known mode of conduct" - in fact it goes much further, extending to the ostracisation of non-Orthodox events and organisations - but it shouldn't be. If we stopped for a moment to reconsider the accepted dogma in the British Orthodox community, we would recognise that this policy of exclusion has been a total and disastrous failure. It is outdated, non-viable, and destructive - not only for the Progressives, but for the Orthodox community as well.

We have only been able to behave this way in the first place because of a historical anomaly. Because of the historic dominance of Orthodoxy here, it controls much of Jewish public life, such as the school system. In North America, where the Orthodox were the last to arrive, they form a minority and control little community infrastructure. The ability to shut out Progressives is not the diaspora norm and, as North America shows, nor is it imperative for an Orthodox community to thrive.

It doesn't even work. Between 1990 and 2010, according to an Institute for Jewish Policy Research study, membership of the UK's central Orthodox synagogues dropped by a third. It dropped by just four per cent for Reform. Can anyone seriously claim that Progressive members doubt their own validity thanks to the Orthodox boycott? That the rest of the British population regards Progressive clergy as inauthentic? Or that there are not Orthodox rabbis, including senior ones, who conduct private friendships and constructive dialogue with their Progressive peers? Who exactly are we trying to convince – other than ourselves?

In every other arena, from politics to the press and academia, we accept that there is a marketplace of ideas. Only when it comes to religion do we try to silence the "opposition" and use force to win the argument. This makes us look immature, intolerant, petty and insecure.

Appearing in the same forum as a Progressive rabbi does not mean that an Orthodox rabbi accepts that the other is "right". We can, indeed we should, agree to disagree in a civilised manner. But it takes a certain amount of confidence in your own arguments to trust an audience to see this - confidence our Orthodox leaders apparently lack.

Orthodox rabbis could even learn a thing or two from the Progressives, perhaps regarding social justice or the environment, without condoning their theology. Why are we so afraid?

Most importantly, the campaign, over decades, to delegitimise Progressive Judaism has made the entire community weaker. We face many challenges together, from antisemitism and attacks on Israel to a rapidly shrinking Jewish population. The other denominations, both to our right and to our left, should be treated as partners, not enemies, if we are to thrive. Instead, our denominational bickering, which has become an unfortunate byword for Anglo-Jewry, has resulted in needless hatred and division, hampering us as a collective.

Exhibit A in this sad indictment is the so-called Big Tent event, which almost became the Half Tent. It stands, dishonourably, in a long list of previous fiascos, including the Jacobs and Hugo Gryn affairs, the Limmud boycott and the JFS court case. Next chief rabbi, please take note.

Meet my daughter, Jonathan

Miriam Shaviv — Wed, 28 Sep 2011 09:55:31 +0100

With 10 weeks - perhaps less – to go before I have a new baby, it's hard to say I've done much to prepare.
The clothes are still all up in the attic. I'm yet to retrieve the baby bath and car seat from the friends who borrowed them. Perhaps you become complacent with your third. I know it will all get done. There is only one thing I am really worried about: what am I going to call this kid (gender, as yet, unknown) when it arrives?

Now, I know what you parents out there are thinking. We have nearly an entire trimester left to decide and something will present itself, perhaps when we actually meet the baby.

But that didn't happen with our first two. It took us so long to name my daughter Eliana that my grandfather took me aside to confide that it "wasn't right". This time I mean to be prepared.

The problem is that naming a Jewish child in this day and age is not just a question of finding a name you like. To pick a name is to enter a familial, cultural and religious minefield.

To start with, since the birth of my number two, I have lost a mother, grandfather and grandmother. We have also yet to name a baby after my husband's late father.

We would dearly love to name a child after all of them, but four names would be quite a mouthful.

So who do we offend by leaving out? Do we just give up on the men if we have a girl, and vice-versa? Skip the grandparents altogether?

My grandparents found one way around the problem. When my mother was born, they took her to the shul frequented by my grandfather's side of the family, and named her after his great aunt. Then they promptly marched her to my grandmother's shul, and named her after a
relative of hers.

When my parents got married, they actually had to ask a rabbi what name to put on her ketubah.

Perhaps it's the
pregnancy hormones, but I'm already ready to have another baby just for the additional naming opportunities.

Not, I should add, that I actually like most of their names, which sound old-fashioned to me (sorry, relatives). Mordechai? It might be kinder just to call a child "Zaida".

Picking an original name brings its own problems. For instance, we would really like a name that is considered modern in Israel, where we spend a considerable amount of time.

We already messed up once. Dalia, the name of our second daughter, is fairly common in the diaspora, but in Israel is inevitably greeted by "beautiful name", followed, after a short pause, by some variation of the phrase, "…which I haven't heard for 30 years".

I spent my summer holiday in Israel quizzing everyone I met about their children's names – and those of their young relatives, friends and classmates. I discovered two things. First, most Israelis under the age of five have names that were virtually unknown just a decade ago: Hallel, Shacharit, Lihi, and Yahel for girls, for example. Nowadays I'm too British and conservative for such radicalism.

Second, unisex names like Yuval, Amit, Noam, Daniel, Ariel and Adi are still very much "on trend". My niece's school in Haifa even has a female Yonatan and a male Yael.

With the best will in the world, I don't think Borehamwood is ready for my youngest daughter, Jonathan.

Rebecca or Rifka, Rocco or Ra'anan; a Jewish child's name can instantly betray where their parents sit on the religious/cultural spectrum. This is not a problem if your identity is clear-cut.

But we are archetypal boundary-dwelling modern Orthodox. We are looking for a name that is stylish but not secular, religious but not "frummie", Jewish but pronounceable by the rest of the world. Huh? Before we pick a name, perhaps we need therapy to figure out who we actually are.

Or maybe this is our chance to reinvent ourselves. In 2010, the 360th most popular first name in the United States was "Cohen" – according to nameberry.com, a favourite with non-Jewish parents unaware of the Jewish meaning. My husband has always wanted to be a cohen. Perhaps it's not too late for his son…

This was a morally repulsive argument

Miriam Shaviv — Thu, 08 Sep 2011 12:20:17 +0100

Let us give Larry Derfner the benefit of the doubt that he does not wish to see terror attacks inflicted upon his fellow Israelis. That much is clear both from the original blog post and from his subsequent apology. He has also, belatedly, learned the value of editors, particularly for controversial material.

But the fact remains that even following his clarification, he does "justify" Palestinian terror attacks, in the sense that he seems to believe that Palestinians have little choice but to commit them. Worse: he argues that Israelis have brought Palestinian terror attacks on themselves, and actually deserve them.

"What's needed very badly, however, is for Israelis to realise that the occupation… [is] driving them to try to kill us, that we are compelling them to engage in terrorism, that the blood of Israeli victims is ultimately on our hands," he wrote. "…Just like every harsh, unjust government in history bears the blame for the deaths of its own people at the hands of rebels, so Israel… is to blame for those eight Israeli deaths [near Eilat last month]."

Israel, he is saying, bears sole responsibility for the lack of establishment of a Palestinian state, and so its citizens are fair game. Of course, Israel has made many mistakes along the way, but the idea that Israel alone is to blame is ludicrous. Several prime ministers made the Palestinians serious offers, only to be rebuffed, sometimes without even a counter-offer. Even Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu froze settlement building for 10 months, giving the peace talks a chance, but the Palestinians would not negotiate without pre-conditions. Withdrawal from Gaza led to rockets, not to reciprocal gestures.

Had the Palestinians truly wanted a state they could have negotiated one by now. But they have preferred to engage in terror, not out of desperation - as Derfner fantasises - but as a calculated political tool in their effort to destroy the Israeli state.

Palestinians are independent agents. It is condescending for Derfner to argue that Israel is somehow "making" them resort to terror. And dangerous and morally repulsive (though perhaps not a firing offence for a columnist paid to provoke) to suggest they have no choice but to murder innocent civilians.

Mr Derfner may feel comfortable advancing this argument on the web. I wonder if he would have the guts say it to the families of murdered Israelis, face-to-face.

Miriam Shaviv is a JC columnist and former journalist for the Jerusalem Post

Not rioting, just dreaming

Miriam Shaviv — Mon, 22 Aug 2011 10:25:15 +0100

After a month in Israel, I'm about ready to join a demonstration against the cost of living here myself. Even armed with pounds (admittedly not worth as much as they used to be) this is a really expensive country.

I feel constantly ripped off on small items - NIS 99 (£17) for sun-screen, NIS 75 (£13) for some water-melon and grapes (I returned the grapes). Day-care seems roughly equivalent to London, but with the average Israeli salary standing at NIS 8,700 (£1,506) a month, it must form an even bigger burden for many working parents.

Then there is the biggie - property. Jerusalem is for dollar millionaires only; the once-cheaper option for young couples, Modiin, is now equivalent to Edgware. Even smaller suburbs of the big cities, such as Tzur Hadassah, outside Jerusalem, start in the 1.5/2 million shekel range (£260,000-£350,000). Goodbye to my dream of selling up in London and buying mortgage-free in Israel.

So the hordes of Israelis protesting that they cannot make ends meet have a point. Israel's economic boom, with GDP growth of 4.7 per cent last year, a strong shekel and unemployment at just 5.7 per cent, has passed by too many middle-class people.

I have less sympathy, however, for their solutions. Here, the leaders of the revolution seem not only misguided, but dangerous- ready to risk Israel's economic miracle at a time when much of the West is facing financial ruin.

The problem is that most of those shaping the movement come from the radical left, including tiny parties such as Hadash (an Arab-Jewish faction with four Knesset seats) and Balad (three seats), and organisations such as the New Israel Fund. Their economic solutions come from the radical left as well.

The word that repeatedly comes up is "socialism". When, two weeks ago, the head of the Histadrut union mentioned "capitalism" to the Tel Aviv demonstration, the crowd booed.

What exactly do they mean by "socialism"? Do the majority of the demonstrators really hark back to Israel of the 1950s, with its food stamps and jobs for the boys - that is, Labour party members?

No, but they clearly want a much higher level of intervention and subsidies.

Many of their basic demands are utterly unrealistic: free child-care from three months upwards, for example. Nor can the government be expected to miraculously make "affordable" apartments available in central Tel Aviv.

Many of the demands seem to based on a sense of entitlement known as "magia li" - "I deserve" even if I cannot afford. No one has the right to live in the most desirable areas; few Englishmen expect to live in central London.

Most importantly, none of the demands have come with price tags or explanations of where the money - when calculated - is going to come from. The demonstrators want Israel's budget to be busted; this must not happen. And it would be equally foolish to seriously shift the orientation of Israel's economy towards middle-class benefits and intervention, when it is almost unique today in its upward trajectory.

The man who can take most credit for this is Benjamin Netanyahu, whose right-wing economic philosophy and belief in the free market has guided the economy for years.

One look around Europe, on the verge of a double-dip recession - and London's riots - shows what the future holds if they mess with the winning formula. The protestors do not realise how lucky they are collectively.

The government's Trajtenberg panel, set up to propose solutions to the demonstrators' complaints, is due to report within weeks. The demonstrators have set up an alternative commission.

It is a shame that this is shaping up to be a battle rather than a dialogue, as many problem-spots need addressing: not only the legitimate frustrations of the middle class, but also the neglect of development towns and Arab towns, income gaps between rich and poor, starving education budgets, high unemployment among Charedim and Arabs, out-of-proportion investment in settlements, et cetera.

Netanyahu must be responsive and do whatever he can. But under no circumstances should the Israeli Prime Minister risk the country's basic economic health. And if these radical parties disagree, let them win the argument through a vote - not on the streets.

Drop-outs can repair the rifts

Miriam Shaviv — Fri, 08 Jul 2011 09:49:46 +0100

Since the 1960s, the Orthodox world has been justifiably proud of the ba'al teshuvah movement - the large numbers of assimilated Jews who have become frum, bolstering the observant community.

Until relatively recently, however, the flow of people moving the other way, out of Orthodoxy, has been the movement's dirty little secret.

True, over the past decade there has been a growing number of parents expressing public despair that their children were going "off the derech" - that is, off the path of the Torah, and seeking help in returning them to the fold.

But there has been little acknowledgement of the impact this has had on Orthodoxy as a whole - even though, according to some informal estimates, there are as many Orthodox people dropping out as ba'alei teshuvah dropping in -and little interest in what happens to these youngsters once they have become secular, beyond their impact on their families' dynamics.

A new book is set to change all that, at least in the Israeli context. Hadatlashim - a slang Hebrew acronym that stands for hadati'im leshe'avar, or "the formerly religious" -- by Poriya Gal Gatz, charts the inner lives of Israelis who have abandoned tradition, and examines what they have in common.

Gal Gatz, granddaughter of a former rabbi of the Kotel who abandoned religion in her 20s, comes to the startling conclusion that, unlike in past generations, when Israelis who left Orthodoxy simply became secular, today's drop-outs form a distinct and in many ways unique sector in Israeli society.

While they are by no means practising Jews, and certainly do not identify as such, their religious education has left an indelible impression on them. They never quite shake the language and world-view of the Orthodox Jew and often say they can identify another datlash as soon as he or she opens his or her mouth. They retain some religious habits -- anything from an intensive Seder night to saying a blessing after using the toilet - and often hang-ups, particularly to do with modesty or sex (avoiding, for example, dancing in nightclubs).

They are often happiest socialising with each other; dating sites exist that cater only to datlashim. Politically, even some of those who move to the left cannot see the right as "the enemy", and events such as the 2005 exit from Gaza cause genuine emotional turmoil.

In short, they check out of institutional Orthodoxy, but can never really leave.

It is tempting to see the emergence of the formerly Orthodox as an identifiable sub-sector as an unmitigated tragedy for Orthodoxy. And certainly serious questions need to be asked about why so many youngsters seem to be rejecting it, particularly as Israel's religious youth receive the best Jewish education in the world, and undergo an intensive experience of Orthodoxy and Jewish life.

While the reasons for leaving Orthodoxy are individual and varied (and relatively rarely concern theological questions), one frequent thread is a rebellion against an increasingly dogmatic environment, in which questions are not encouraged and in which ever more rigid standards of religious observance are required.

As similar trends seem to be occurring in the diaspora, with mainstream Orthodoxy drifting ever further to the right, there are lessons for us here, too. And yet, I cannot help but see in the datlashim a sign of hope. One of the most worrying aspects of Israeli society is the outright hostility between its Orthodox and secular components. Thanks in large part to the partnership of synagogue and state, too many secular people see religion as an outdated anachronism forced on them unwillingly, and religious people as work-shy, army-shirking parasites.

Too many Orthodox people see the secular majority as value-less. The lines between the two camps are very starkly drawn; unlike in the diaspora, secular Jews are not shul-goers, the educational systems are completely separate and, increasingly, they live in separate neighbourhoods and even separate towns. (A major exception are secular Sephardim, who tend to be quite religiously traditional.) Politics, too, tends to fall along religious lines.

So while I mourn every Jew who abandons religion, it is heartening to see a group that can potentially cross bridges; that has genuine sympathies with, and ties to, both groups. Israel desperately needs to mend its religious rift. With time, this disaster for the Orthodox camp may yet turn out to be a blessing for the nation.

Banished - the female face

Miriam Shaviv — Fri, 27 May 2011 10:59:24 +0100

Contrary to popular mythology, Jewish women in the Middle Ages were not confined to the role of home-maker, powerless in a male-dominated world. According to Avraham Grossman's modern classic, Pious and Rebellious, a survey of Jewish women's lives in Europe between 1000 and 1300, many women worked and their economic power helped improve their position in their families.

The rabbis granted them, for example, the right to initiate divorce and not to be divorced against their will. In the religious sphere, women were known to act as sandak in a brit, as well as circumcisers and ritual slaughterers. The rabbis tried to relax a ban on women learning Torah, and the women struggled to be allowed to perform certain mitzvot from which they were legally exempt.

"Various outstanding sages, including Rashi's own teachers," Grossman writes, "already recognised this right in the second half of the eleventh century. This was not a purely religious matter, as it also entailed a clear recognition of women's place in society."

Why do I bring all this up now? Because recent allegations that Charedi policy towards women is "medieval" does an injustice to the medievals. Back then, Jewish women saw steady improvements in their status. Today, the Charedim - particularly in Israel and America - seem to be waging a concerted campaign to erase women from the public sphere.

Take two recent examples. The entire world saw the picture of American officials watching the operation to assassinate Osama bin Laden, which two American Charedi newspapers published - minus the image of Hillary Clinton and another female staffer, who had been photoshopped out. The newspaper editors (one of whom, bizarrely, did not seem to mind being interviewed on CNN by an attractive female presenter) explained that their blanket refusal to publish pictures of women was an issue of "modesty".

But Mrs Clinton was dressed perfectly modestly, with sleeves down to her wrists and a high-cut shirt. Her legs were not visible. The issue was, therefore, not dress but women's faces, which are apparently no longer allowed to be seen in respectable Charedi publications. But there is no halachic prohibition on looking upon a woman's face. Why, then, ban them, unless there is a wider agenda against women being seen in public?

Last week, an Israeli Charedi website, Kikar HaShabbat, carried the story of a young Charedi man who had aggressively accosted a woman sitting at the front of a gender-segregated bus in Jerusalem.

A few days later, he asked the most senior Charedi rabbi, Yosef Shalom Elyashiv, whether he need apologise; the rabbi allegedly ruled that "humiliating" someone who had transgressed the laws of modesty was permissible.

Several Orthodox internet bloggers have been so shocked by this ruling that they have argued that Rav Elyashiv could not possibly have issued it. However, there has been no official denial from the centenarian's circle.

Again, forcing women to the back of the bus has little to do with modesty. Israeli Charedim were perfectly happy to ride mixed buses until recently, and continue to do so in the diaspora. It is, rather, a political statement about the place of women in society - separate from men, and behind them - which can now, apparently, be reinforced with threats and verbal violence.

Both of these events are the culmination of long trends among Charedim, who reacted to modernity by isolating themselves from the rest of society, and in recent years, becoming increasingly sexist. It is no coincidence that the cult of Israeli Charedi women who cover themselves in burkas is flourishing; they have internalised the message that good women are invisible.

The rest of us should care deeply, firstly out of concern for the women who are being discriminated against for emphatically social, not halachic reasons, often against their will. Charedi rabbis are also in control of Israel's religious establishment, including its marriage and conversion mechanisms, so the norms of that society directly affect the wider tone of Israeli society and almost every Israeli individual.

And since the borders between the religious streams are porous, the standards of behaviour established in Charedi society often end up influencing the national religious camp (in Israel) and modern Orthodoxy (in the diaspora).

The growing misogyny of the Charedi world is therefore not an internal Charedi issue.

If its rabbis cannot be persuaded to moderate themselves soon, the Jewish people as a whole will pay the price.

Yes, Hamas is already taking over

Miriam Shaviv — Thu, 05 May 2011 11:04:45 +0100

Should the Hamas-Fatah reconciliation agreement be welcomed or opposed? This depends on which of the two parties ends up dominating the other.

For the moment, the factions may have agreed to co-operate for domestic reasons and to help smooth the way towards the unilateral declaration of a Palestinian state in September.

But make no mistake: they remain bitter rivals, with vastly different strategies for the future of their people. Since 2007, when Hamas threw Fatah out of Gaza in a coup, one - Hamas - has concentrated on building up its arms so that it can eventually defeat Israel militarily. The other, Fatah, has preferred to build up the institutions of its own future state.

Which vision will prevail?

Hamas's Prime Minister Ismail Haniyeh spent this week "condemning" the assassination of Osama bin Laden, "an Arab holy warrior", while the man responsible for driving the West Bank's self-improvement programme, Fatah Prime Minister Salam Fayyad, appears to be on his way out, at Hamas's insistence.

The signs so far, then, are that whatever the formal arrangements are, the terror organisation is swallowing Fatah.

This is an incredibly dangerous moment for Israel, which has spent the past few years co-operating with Fatah's security forces and rooting out much of the terror infrastructure on the West Bank.

But this new national government is a disaster first and foremost for the West Bank Palestinians, who appear to be throwing away years of civic and economic progress to throw in their lot with the radical Islamists. The fact is that no government that includes Hamas, an avowed terror group dedicated to the destruction of Israel, can possibly be a partner for peace.

Is it too much to expect US President Barack Obama, freshly empowered by his triumph in Pakistan, to take a stand against those who hold up bin Laden as a role model?

Let us vote for next chief rabbi

Miriam Shaviv — Mon, 11 Apr 2011 16:11:22 +0100

It is still two and a half years until the Chief Rabbi, Lord Sacks, retires, but the process of choosing his successor is already in full swing.

Late last month, the United Synagogue announced that it was consulting leaders of Orthodox congregations, groups representing women, young people and rabbis about the type of chief rabbi they would like to see; that the US council would meet in May in London and another meeting would be held in Manchester, to discuss the results; and that US president Simon Hochhauser, before he retires from his post in July, would be drawing up a job description for the next chief.

It is gratifying to see that the US is taking the views of its constituents so seriously. But why stop at consultations? Why should the US not make the selection of the next chief rabbi into a proper election, with declared candidates, a series of public debates and, finally, a vote for each US member?

The benefits, both for the Jewish public and for the US itself, would be immense.

The fact is that the unelected, unaccountable status of most of the men (and they are mostly men) at the helm of our main organisations is the source of much bitterness and cynicism about Jewish community life among "regular" Jews.

Lord Sacks himself has not been immune to such murmurings of discontent from congregants who complain that his own path to Hamilton Terrace was smoothed by the support of a wealthy "kingmaker", Lord Kalms.

By making the process fully transparent - instead of having a chief imposed on us by a committee behind closed doors - the US would instantly bestow the kind of legitimacy upon the next chief rabbi that few of our other community leaders have and which, in truth, the de facto head of Anglo-Jewry needs.

It would also help him avoid one of the main stumbling blocks faced by Lord Sacks in pushing through his religious agenda - the objections of the London Beth Din and others who are not even members of the US - because he would have a popular mandate.

Indeed, a properly handled election process would ensure that the next chief had a well-thought-out platform and vision, not just the "right" personality and religious leanings (though those will clearly be factors).

With an election campaign, we could have an urgently needed debate about the direction of the Orthodox community in particular, and Anglo-Jewry in general (albeit only once every quarter of a century or so).

Candidates would have to clearly set out their positions on, for example, conversion, women's role in the synagogue, attitudes towards Progressive Judaism, and even the role of the chief rabbi himself - all issues over which there has been considerable tension in US shuls during the past few years - allowing members to evaluate the arguments critically.

Hopefully, the candidates would not just be speaking but also listening to what US members actually want. This being so, we would end up with a chief rabbi whose platform is closer to the people's than it would otherwise be, and who is more accountable to them.

This open airing of the issues is not a process that the United Synagogue should fear. On the contrary. The US's main problem is that it is an organisation, not a movement, and generates very little grass-roots enthusiasm. A series of chief-rabbinical debates would electrify its membership, giving individuals a real stake in the US's direction, making them emotionally invested in its future, and more thoughtful about religious life.

Membership would doubtless shoot up, and existing members would become more involved. How could the US afford not to take this opportunity?

Nor should the US be afraid that its members will make the "wrong" choice. We are, after all, trusted to pick our own Prime Minister. In what way are we less qualified to pick a chief rabbi?

In 2008, the US learned to trust its members a little more when it finally allowed lay people to speak at funerals.

It is time to put its faith in its members once again. It should be remembered that the US is there to serve those members, not the other way around.

Empowering them to have a say in the identity - and agenda - of the next chief rabbi, would completely re-energise the organisation. And it would be the making of the winning candidate.

New ways of wishing 'gd Shbs'

Miriam Shaviv — Fri, 28 Jan 2011 10:27:31 +0000

It is 11 years since a number of Israeli rabbis came out against their followers using the internet, and at least half-a-decade since they attempted to ban internet-enabled mobile phones.

Their concerns centred on the potentially "corrupting" material available online: initially pornography but increasingly, as the internet evolved, issues of freedom of information and of thought. Suddenly, the internet hosted numerous forums on which charedim could anonymously share their doubts about theology and lifestyle, and the news sites that exposed the political manoeuvring animating the rabbinic courts.

But now it appears that there is a new threat, and that is the technology itself. Mobile phones are so addictive that it seems the Shabbat experience is being jeopardised.

Over the past couple of months, the Orthodox blogosphere has been buzzing about the phenomenon of American religious teens who openly confess to keeping what they call "Half Shabbos" - that is, using mobile phones to text on Shabbat, and perhaps also tweeting or posting on Facebook. They claim to consider social media part of their daily verbal communication and are so addicted that they feel they cannot socialise without it.

Of course, there have always been rebellious Orthodox teens who break Shabbat, either as experimentation they grow out of, or paving their way to a secular adulthood. But this group - which reportedly spans the spectrum from
the modern Orthodox to charedim - seems
different.

Once upon a time, the decision by a youth from an observant family to break Shabbat - to turn on a light, perhaps, or get into a car - was life-changing, and accompanied by a great deal of trepidation and guilt. These teens, however, openly discuss whether they keep "half-Shabbos" or "full Shabbos".

There is apparently no shame attached to this violation, at least among their peers (they may be less keen to confess to their parents). Yet texting and tweeting are by their very nature public activities, involving an audience, and even a time-stamp confirming to others that Shabbat has been broken.

Nor is this really a rebellion against their Orthodox identities because these teens have, with their "half-Shabbos" terminology, stretched the boundaries of the Orthodox fold. Yes, they may have sinned; but they still put themselves on the "Shabbat spectrum".

This is not entirely unrealistic. All observant people are on a "shomer Shabbat" spectrum of sorts. No one, no matter how religious, keeps a "perfect" Shabbat and we all manage to explain away, in our minds, our own violations, whether it be pushing a pushchair (another very public act), tearing toilet paper or making tea the wrong way.

People are capable of living with contradictions and, once committed to an Orthodox lifestyle, few people think that their own particular Shabbat sin (or a sin of any kind, for that matter) removes them from the category of "observant".

So why is the "half-Shabbos" challenge any different? In communal eyes, there still are a few sins that drop you off the Shabbat spectrum altogether, usually sins that involve public actions and/or technology, such as driving or turning on a light. Certainly, few Orthodox adults are likely to be terribly sympathetic to their offspring texting on Shabbat.

Now it is possible that the Shabbat texting is nothing more than a teen activity, and that those engaging in it will grow out of it - in which case, "half Shabbos" will probably have very little impact on Orthodoxy in the long term. But it seems to me that teens today attach an importance to social media that even those in their 30s do not quite "get".

It is so integral to their young lives, and their friendships, that it is entirely possible they will continue to rely on it into adulthood. Technology has become so easily accessible that it is almost an extension of personality. I speak, therefore I text.

In that case, we may see over the coming couple of decades a segment of the observant community using technology, more or less openly, on Shabbat.

This would be an immense challenge to halachah; to the definition of the boundaries between the various Jewish denominations; and, most of all, to our experience of Shabbat - the one day of the week on which it is possible to "switch off" from the electronic world.

Addiction-forming texting and tweeting now show, more than ever, precisely why the refuge of Shabbat is needed. But be prepared: it's probably only a matter of time until we hear about the new wave of teenagers, those who keep "quarter Shabbos" - texting, tweeting and smoking - coming up against their peers who keep "three quarters Shabbos"- all of the above, but only on Friday nights.

Left-wing criticism is not right

Miriam Shaviv — Mon, 20 Dec 2010 15:07:39 +0000

What is really behind the objections to Jewish Leadership Council chief Mick Davis's criticism of Israel? Is it what he said? To whom he said it? Or is the real issue, perhaps, who said it?

At that now notorious panel debate, Davis seemed to blame Israel for the collapse in the peace process, blasting Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu for "lacking courage" to take steps towards a "great advance". He implored the Israeli government to recognise that its actions "impacted" him in London - implying that diaspora Jews were equal stakeholders in the Middle East conflict. And he confessed that Anglo-Jewry's leaders are afraid to speak openly about Israel's problems, re-enforcing the myth (proven false by his own words) that those holding dissenting opinions are suppressed.

To many, all this added up to an unjustified attack on the Jewish state. Others took no issue with the content of his talk, or respected his right to hold these views, but questioned his judgment in saying all this publicly. "He is giving ammunition to our enemies", they said - and this at a time when Israel is battling delegitimisation.

I do wonder, though, whether many of his criticisms would have been judged to be quite so contentious had they been made by someone else - someone from the opposite end of the political spectrum.

Mick Davis is head of the UJIA, which is considered by many British Jews to lean left. Seated on the same panel as US journalist Peter Beinart, author of a much-discussed essay critical of America's Zionist leaders, and Guardian and JC columnist Jonathan Freedland, his comments were, before he even opened his mouth, going to be interpreted as reflecting a leftist bias.

Davis went out of his way to reinforce this impression, positioning himself as part of British Jewry's "left-of-centre leadership". His comments were then all couched in the language of the left - using the dreaded phrase, "apartheid state" (although denying Israel was one - yet), referring to Israel's "minority issues" and doubting that Israel is a "moral nation"- again, yet.

It was inevitable that he was going to be slammed. Over the past few years, the quality of our communal discourse has deteriorated so shamefully that leftist Zionists who query Israel's path find their loyalty to - and love for - the state routinely doubted (see what happened to Beinart). Those on the right are so involved in defending Israel that some of them seem to have convinced themselves that it is perfect.

But, of course, you do not have to be on the left to be deeply concerned about Israel's future. Even on the right, only those wearing blinkers can deny that Israel is on a very worrying path.

Unlike Davis, I do not believe that the impasse with the Palestinians is Netanyahu's fault; no "courageous" steps will bring about an agreement in the absence of a Palestinian partner. And yet, I know that every day that goes by without a settlement is a demographic time-bomb for Israel. Peace is currently not in Israel's hands to deliver. But Davis is right - where is its strategy for handling the conflict in the meantime?

As an Israeli citizen, I would have voted for Netanyahu (had I been in the country) and would vote for him again. Opposition leader Tzipi Livni seems invisible. Nevertheless, there is no denying Netanyahu is a weak, indecisive leader. His Israel is ungovernable, with policies driven by coalition parties looking out only for their own constituents. I really miss Arik Sharon, who could get things done.

I worry, too, about the shrinking number of Israeli citizens equipped to enter the workforce because of their poor education. For how long can Israel's economic miracle last? And my heart is broken by Israel's secular population, which has become alienated from Judaism, and by Israel's religious establishment, which has done much of the alienating.

As for the way Israel treats its Arab population, I don't think Israel behaves "immorally" - every country, including the UK, has difficulty integrating its minorities and closing socio-economic gaps. Add the nationalistic element into the mix, however, and Israel is clearly playing with fire.

But let me repeat: I am solidly on Israel's right, a supporter of Sharon and Netanyahu. Is my loyalty to Israel suspect now, too? Or is that the kind of treatment reserved only for those on the left sharing their concerns, those like Mick Davis?

Rabin's legacy sits to the right

Miriam Shaviv — Thu, 04 Nov 2010 17:12:53 +0000

Fifteen years after his murder, Israelis don't care much about Yitzhak Rabin.

None of the main television channels planned to cover the commemoration ceremony for the slain leader this year - the state broadcaster, Channel 1, only reversed tack following a Facebook campaign. Last Saturday night, the organisers of the memorial could not even fill Rabin Square, the site of Rabin's murder on November 4, 1995. They will most likely have to move to
a smaller location next year.

But even as Rabin seems to fade from public memory - today's soldiers were only three years old when he was assassinated - the buds of his rehabilitation are already apparent. Particularly on the right, his legacy is starting to be revaluated. This is a healthy process, which the left should embrace as well.

Rabin, according to the new theory, was not the staunch peacenik we were all led to believe. Rather, he had severe doubts about the Palestinians' intentions, and never intended to establish a Palestinian state.

The most surprising proponent of this view is Rabin's own daughter, Dalia, who told Yediot Achronot last month that she believed her father regretted the land-for-peace process he engaged in with Palestinian leader Yasir Arafat.

"Many people who were close to father told me that on the eve of the murder he considered stopping the Oslo process because of the
terror that was running rampant in the streets and that Arafat wasn't delivering the goods,"
she said. "Father after all wasn't a blind man
running forward without thought… he was someone for whom the security of the state
was sacrosanct."

Several commentators picked up on this, pointing out that when Rabin established his government in 1992, he committed it to strengthening Israel's "strategic" settlements in the West Bank and in "Greater Jerusalem", declared that "Jerusalem will not be open to negotiation… It is ours and ours forever",
and warned that Israel's security considerations would always take precedence over peace.

Rabin was deeply hesitant about an Oslo process which had started behind his back. Signing the Accords on the White House lawn the following year, Rabin's ambivalence showed itself physically, in his reluctance to shake Arafat's hand.

Shortly before his death, Rabin outlined his hawkish vision of a final settlement to the Knesset. Alongside the Jewish state - which would include "most of the Land of Israel as it was under the rule of the British Mandate" - would be a "Palestinian entity which is less than
a state", that is, an autonomous area. Israel, he added, would "not… uproot a single settlement in the framework of the interim agreement, and not… hinder building for natural growth".

Why has all this been forgotten? We remember Rabin as a radical because he was one, for his time. But even then, the details of Rabin's vision got lost in the broader argument over whether or not the peace process should advance.

Fifteen years later, we can see things more objectively, and the Israeli political map has shifted so far that Rabin's positions suddenly seem remarkable for their tameness. Israeli Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu is condemned internationally for his alleged right-wing extremism, but - unlike Rabin - he seems to have accepted a two-state solution and at least a temporary settlement freeze. For the right, then, there is a clear political incentive to revisit Rabin's record. Bibi, 2010, they can tell American president Barack Obama, is further to the left than Rabin, 1995.

But it is actually the left that should be embracing this revision. Ever since Rabin was assassinated, Labour has been trapped by the myth of Rabin the peacemaker, who forged on with the peace process regardless of what the Palestinians said or did. Since abandoning "Rabin's way" is a betrayal, Labour's political vision has been at a standstill for a decade-and-a-half.

It has completely failed to adapt to major events such as the second intifada, the rise of Hamas and Iran and changing international sympathies, with all their strategic implications, sticking with the same tired old political paradigms of 15 years ago. As a result, Labour has been completely abandoned by the electorate, with polls consistently showing the party shrinking to just five seats in the next election.

Labour must recognise that its hallowed 'Rabin legacy' is far more conservative than it ever allowed, and possibly never existed in the first place; then free itself from the tyranny of this illusory memory, before the party is destroyed.

Mr Ahmadinejad, throw that stone

Miriam Shaviv — Thu, 07 Oct 2010 16:50:09 +0100

According to the Arab press, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad is planning to end his tour of Lebanon by symbolically lobbing a rock at Israel over the border fence.

The thinking, presumably, is that this would be a great PR coup - that the image would cement Mr Ahmadinejad's reputation as the Islamic world's foremost opponent of the Jewish state. But would it really?

The move (if it ever happens ) would, of course, be modelled on the famous photo of Prof Edward Said, who in 2000 threw his own stone at Israel. It is worth remembering that Professor Said's photo, which was reproduced around the world, did him enormous damage in the West, making him look like a hot-headed agitator rather than a reasonable, respectable academic.

Mr Ahmadinejad has very little credibility in the West to ruin, but many people would find an image of him personally engaging in political violence distasteful.

In his own country, Mr Ahmadinejad has often been criticised for being too focused on the Palestinian issue at the expense of his own people, and also for projecting an image of Iran that is mad, dangerous and outside the community of nations. A picture re-enforcing those exact perceptions might not be too popular at home either.

Naturally, we would all prefer not to see Iran's dictator getting the satisfaction of throwing rocks at Israel. But given that there is very little Israel can actually do to stop him, I say, rock on, Ahmadinejad. Give us the picture that will instantly convey, to any remaining doubters, just how mad you really are.

Street life is never comfortable

Miriam Shaviv — Thu, 07 Oct 2010 11:35:26 +0100

It was miserable timing. Two weeks ago, the JC revealed that a number of activists in the UK were trying to establish a left-leaning Israel group, which would support Israel but not shy away from criticising its government. The initiative, which is being spearheaded by Hannah Weisfeld, formerly of the Jewish Community Centre for London, was directly inspired by the liberal American lobby group, J Street, which, since it was founded in 2008, has increasingly challenged the more conservative Jewish establishment.

And then, last week, J Street crumbled. The Washington Times revealed that a large chunk of its funding - $750,000 since 2008 - came from the family of Jewish financier George Soros, known for his anti-Israel views. At the height of the second intifada, he blamed the rise in antisemitism on the Israeli government; he also declared that he does not "deny the Jews their right to a national existence - but I don't want to be part of it".

J Street had consistently denied that they had received his money but it seems that they had blatantly lied. Many of J Street's supporters were furious; the group, which had promised "ethical" criticism of Israel, had no ethical credibility itself.

An additional revelation, that J Street had facilitated meetings between Washington officials and Judge Richard Goldstone, lead author of the damning UN report on Operation Cast Lead, seemed to doom J Street's brand.

A couple of weeks ago, our own local doveish activists were hoping that some of J Street's magic would rub off on them. Now, they must learn the lessons of its downfall.

J Street was established to counter AIPAC, the right-leaning, dominant Israel lobby. From the beginning, J Street's loyalty to Israel was questioned by elements on the right. It billed itself as "pro-Israel, pro-peace", in an attempt to reclaim the "pro-Israel" label, which had been increasingly monopolised by right-of-centre Jewish leaders and Christian Evangelicals.

J Street took some controversial positions, for example supporting dialogue with Hamas and calling for an immediate ceasefire on the first day of Operation Cast Lead. However, it was clearly nervous that these positions were unpalatable to mainstream American Jewry. Its website hosts a long section devoted to debunking myths about itself, in which it seeks to justify - or, rather, obfuscate - its policy choices. It only sought "indirect engagement" with Hamas; it questioned Israel's Cast Lead "strategy".

As the pressure mounted - with Israeli Ambassador to Washington Michael Oren refusing to attend its inaugural event - J Street seemed uncomfortable in its own skin. It was arguably not the association with Soros that provoked so much anger among its supporters, but its fudging of the truth. Its donors and hardcore supporters wanted one thing, its fellow-travellers and the wider community wanted another; J Street never managed the balance.

I have no doubt that the organisers of the UK version of J Street are genuine friends of Israel. But they must know that any liberal Israel group here will be subject to the same accusations of disloyalty. It is also inevitable that it will attract supporters who do not genuinely have Israel's interests at heart. This was certainly the case with J Call, a continental group that explicitly modelled itself on J Street last year.

The founders need to accept that they may not have full control over who backs them, and that not all these individuals will be Zionists. As a result, the group may evolve in unexpected and unwanted directions. If its founders are uncomfortable with this, they ought not to set up the group.

If they go ahead anyway, they must be absolutely honest and unapologetic about the group's political beliefs and funding sources. This risks its being pushed beyond the mainstream community's boundaries, but this is the real lesson of J Street. A liberal Israel lobby can please its more radical constituents, or stay relevant to the wider community - but not both.

Leaving the Jewish Chronicle

Miriam Shaviv — Wed, 06 Oct 2010 15:02:00 +0100

That's it, folks... this is my last day at the Jewish Chronicle. After five years, I am moving to the Times Higher Education magazine, where I will edit the features.

But fret not. I will still be blogging, back at my old blog home (2004-2006), http://www.bloghd.blogspot.com. Please bookmark and visit often!

Thank you all for several years of insightful comments and contributions. I look forward to continuing our discussions on Bloghead, and of course, joining you in the comment section of thejc.com.

Best,

Miriam

Stuxnet conspiracy theories are getting ridiculous

Miriam Shaviv — Mon, 04 Oct 2010 12:56:25 +0100

Whoever invented the Stuxnet virus, which is supposedly targeted at the Iranian nuclear programme, must be rolling around laughing at the increasingly far-fetched speculation over who created it. Most of the "proof", of course, points to Israel. Now, I'm not saying that the Israelis didn't do it - they certainly have the motive and the capability - but the so-called "evidence" is really moving into the realms of the ridiculous.

The piece that has everyone in a tizzy is the file path b:\myrtus\src\objfre_w2k_x86\i386\guava.pdb, which appears in the virus's code. This is, according to alleged experts, an allusion to the biblical Queen Esther, who saved the Jewish people from a genocidal Persian. Myrtus is the Latin word for myrtle, and Esther's other name is Hadassah, or myrtle, you see....

Of course, the myrtle is (partially) native to Europe so it might be a link to the Brits. It is also used by aromatherapists, so perhaps the programmers were just trying to kick up a stink? Or, if you are absolutely set on some Jewish symbolism, according to Wiki, "In Jewish mysticism, the myrtle represents the phallic, masculine force at work in the universe." Bibi the alpha male is really showing Ahmadinejad who's in charge....

But seriously, there is also a clue at the end of the file name: guava, which - guess what - is a member of the myrtle family.

Myrtus could also easily be construed as My RTUs. In SCADA environments, RTU is a commonly used term for remote terminal unit. Isn't it more plausible that the Stuxnet author named the folder myrtus (meaning My RTUs) then realized it also read myrtus, the botanical term, and hence named his file guava? [source]

Then again, there are guava orchards in the Gaza Strip. Perhaps the programmers were against disengagement?

The other piece of "evidence" being thrown about is the string 19790509, which is being interpreted as the date May 9, 1979 - the same day on which Iran executed Habib Elghanian, a prominent Jewish businessman. Unless the programmers are themselves Persian Jews, it is unlikely they are familiar with this episode. But wait:

Perhaps what we really have here is someone born on May 9, 1979

This does sound more likely - although, if the virus was constructed in England (or by a British expat), perhaps we're talking about someone born on September 5, 1979. Who the hell knows? None of this is serious proof for anything other than that we all love a good conspiracy theory.

'Jewish flotilla' captain returns home, nobody cares

Miriam Shaviv — Wed, 29 Sep 2010 14:36:52 +0100

Oh, dear. Supporters of the so-called Jewish flotilla sent out tweets today encouraging people to welcome home Glyn Secker, its captain, as he flew into Heathrow. And in the event? Only eight people, including the usual suspects, cared enough to turn up. As for the sign encouraging Jews to boycott Israeli goods - let's just note that Secker was flying home El Al (possibly not by choice).