March 25, 2009
Poverty rates in Israel are highest among ultra-Orthodox and Arab-Israelis, mainly for two reasons: very large families and limited involvement in the formal economy, especially for Arab and Jewish women and ultra-Orthodox men. Benjamin Netanyahu is still negotiating to form a government, six weeks after the election. It looks as if he has jettisoned one of the major achievements from his previous administration, the re-structured child allowance policy. During that term as prime minister he was either respected or reviled for a fundamental change in which the financial incentives for higher birth order children were eliminated. As the editorial in today’s Haaretz points out, the allowance reached 860 NIS per month in 2002, for the fifth child, five times the rate for the first child, but beginning in 2003, the stipend was equalized so that each child receives 160 NIS. While this cut caused outrage among some, the policy result was predictable. Birth rates have declined and employment has increased, especially among the ultra-Orthodox, so poverty has declined. As in the U.S., there are other benefits that can aid families with children while not disincentivizing work and as in the U.S. there is ongoing debate about the funding level of those benefits, such as child care subsidies to facilitate work. As Netanyahu scrambles to put together a “governing” coalition that includes the ultra-Orthodox Shas party, he apparently has agreed to re-institute the disproportionate allowances, motivated by narrow political interests instead of a broader national interest. The well known saying that “there are two things that you don’t want to watch being made—sausage and legislation” captures what is happening as Netanyahu tries to from a government. Netanyahu will implement a policy that is likely to increase poverty among these high risk groups in order achieve 61 votes in the Knesset, a coalition that will be fragile at best in any case.
Friday, March 27, 2009
The Four No's
March 24, 2009
With our visas due to expire on April 7, we set aside today to extend them. A standard tourist visa for Israel is three months. Although it is preferable to arrange for a longer visa before coming to Israel, it is possible to renew visas while already here, but those who attempt this are warned to start early, because sometimes you have to stand in line just to make an appointment to come back to speak to a clerk! With our visas due to expire in April, we started the process about six weeks ago by exploring Ministry websites and getting passport photos from one of the self-service machines in the Dizengoff Center. We came upon telephone numbers for six offices, but none of those numbers connected us to a person to whom we could ask questions about exactly what documents would be required. About three weeks ago, I asked Rakefet, the administrative assistant at Sheatufim, for her help, so she started sending faxes-- every day--to the Ministry, asking somebody, anybody, to call back. After several days of unrequited faxes, I decided to try the U.S. option. I contacted the Israeli consular office in Atlanta by email. Within 24 hours, there was a return email asking for my phone number and two days later, Yaron called me. This was progress. I knew that with persistence I could overcome this bureaucracy!
“You know,” he said, “it’s better to get this visa before you come to Israel.”
“I understand, but we just ran out of time. What should we do now? Nobody seems to answer the phone.”
“It’s possible to get a volunteer visa, but it’s better to extend your tourist visa.”
“Yes, and how do I find out what I need to do that when nobody answers the phone?”
“Maybe you should go to the office to find out.”
This was not the answer I was hoping for.
The next day I solicited the UJC in Jerusalem for their advice. After checking with an unofficial contact at the Jewish Agency, they sent some very specific suggestions. Finally. Would these work? Go to the office in Rishon Lezion (not the one in Tel Aviv). Do not call for an appointment. Extending the tourist visa is the easiest option. Provide several documents. Over the next ten days, I compiled a dossier for each of us: copies of airline tickets, apartment lease, passport ID page, a letter from me describing my leave from UNC, the certificate from my circumcision 60 years ago (just kidding) and, just in case we needed it, a letter from Sheatufim explaining that they were providing a home base while Linda and I learned about Israeli nonprofit organizations.
Last night we reviewed the Egged and Dan bus schedules to confirm travel for today, V-day. We awoke early enough to catch the #274 at 7:47, right on Namir Street. The trip to Rishon Lezion, an industrial city south of Tel Aviv, was only 40 minutes. Not knowing where the Ministry was located, we exited at the old central bus station and took a cab for a 28 shekel fare, to Yisrael Galili St. It was both amusing and sobering to see a large sign for a law firm (perhaps immigration law?) on the ground floor of the building. The guard directed us to the second floor and the guard at the entrance to the visa office was welcoming.
The office looked like a government office—chairs lined up, kiosks with dividers along one wall, signs overhead with instructions--but it did appear well maintained. We walked up to the desk facing the entrance.
“We would like to extend our visas,” said Linda, to the rather large, youngish woman behind the desk.
“Do you have an appointment? No?, You need an appointment.” Here is where the skills we have learned to just keep asking for whatever it is you want seems to be the strategy in Israel.
“We were told that an appointment was not needed,” I offered, in a calm voice.
Rebuffed, she scowled and directed us to desk 1.
An older and younger man were seated facing the desk, talking with the agent. A young Filipino woman sat facing desk #1, so we were number two in line. After a few minutes, the agent stamped some papers and took the fees from the men. The young woman approached the desk, but apparently she did not have the required dossier so she was told to return another time. Just as she was finishing, a rather stout, short Russian woman approached us. Although I could not understand her Russian, the way she was signaling, she was asking if she could just ask the agent one question. We were too psyched to take the field and too experienced with the “just one question” request in a bureaucratic line to be gracious and I joined the chorus of Linda’s insistent “lo, lo, lo” (no, no, no) as we positioned ourselves in the seats at desk #1.
The agent, perhaps in her late 20s or early 30s, was stylishly dressed in a black and white top, with a dark sash or scarf around her neck that gave the impression of a necktie. She spoke excellent English.
“We would like to extend our tourist visas,” said Linda, as she shuffled some parts of our dossier onto the desk.
“Do you have an appointment?” she asked.
“No, we were told that an appointment was not necessary.”
Noticing a Tel Aviv address the agent asked, “Are you living in Tel Aviv? You have to do this in Tel Aviv, no, not here.”
“We were told that we could go to any office,” I politely offered.
“Who told you this?”
“Becky Caspi from UJC said that we did not have to go to the Tel Aviv office, that we could extend our visas at any office.”
“We are leaving at the end of July,” Linda added.
“When did you arrive?”
“On January 8th, so we would like to extend the visa until then.”
“No, you can only have another three months. There is nothing I can do.”
“Do you mean we have to come back in three months, even though we are leaving at the end of that month? We were told that we could have the visas extended for six months.”
That apparently was the end of the interview. She handed each of us a routine form with name, address, and etc. As she was entering our identifying information I recalled that it was a good idea to ask for a multiple entry visa so that we could travel outside of Israel.
“I can only give one entry,” she explained, but this was good news, because it was the first time that the lead was not “no.” In a few seconds the nearby computer spit two a gummed labels, the size of a passport page, one for each of us, that she affixed to each of our passports. We gave her 160 shekels each for the visa and 80 shekels each for the one re-entry. I looked at the extension date—7-20-09, Linda’s departure date—two weeks after what should have been the expiration on July 7. My own departure is the next day, so I guess I’ll be illegal for a day, but as Linda noted, the penalty for having an expired visa is probably deportation anyway. It was nice of our agent to listen.
In Israel, just keep asking until you get the answer you want.
With our visas due to expire on April 7, we set aside today to extend them. A standard tourist visa for Israel is three months. Although it is preferable to arrange for a longer visa before coming to Israel, it is possible to renew visas while already here, but those who attempt this are warned to start early, because sometimes you have to stand in line just to make an appointment to come back to speak to a clerk! With our visas due to expire in April, we started the process about six weeks ago by exploring Ministry websites and getting passport photos from one of the self-service machines in the Dizengoff Center. We came upon telephone numbers for six offices, but none of those numbers connected us to a person to whom we could ask questions about exactly what documents would be required. About three weeks ago, I asked Rakefet, the administrative assistant at Sheatufim, for her help, so she started sending faxes-- every day--to the Ministry, asking somebody, anybody, to call back. After several days of unrequited faxes, I decided to try the U.S. option. I contacted the Israeli consular office in Atlanta by email. Within 24 hours, there was a return email asking for my phone number and two days later, Yaron called me. This was progress. I knew that with persistence I could overcome this bureaucracy!
“You know,” he said, “it’s better to get this visa before you come to Israel.”
“I understand, but we just ran out of time. What should we do now? Nobody seems to answer the phone.”
“It’s possible to get a volunteer visa, but it’s better to extend your tourist visa.”
“Yes, and how do I find out what I need to do that when nobody answers the phone?”
“Maybe you should go to the office to find out.”
This was not the answer I was hoping for.
The next day I solicited the UJC in Jerusalem for their advice. After checking with an unofficial contact at the Jewish Agency, they sent some very specific suggestions. Finally. Would these work? Go to the office in Rishon Lezion (not the one in Tel Aviv). Do not call for an appointment. Extending the tourist visa is the easiest option. Provide several documents. Over the next ten days, I compiled a dossier for each of us: copies of airline tickets, apartment lease, passport ID page, a letter from me describing my leave from UNC, the certificate from my circumcision 60 years ago (just kidding) and, just in case we needed it, a letter from Sheatufim explaining that they were providing a home base while Linda and I learned about Israeli nonprofit organizations.
Last night we reviewed the Egged and Dan bus schedules to confirm travel for today, V-day. We awoke early enough to catch the #274 at 7:47, right on Namir Street. The trip to Rishon Lezion, an industrial city south of Tel Aviv, was only 40 minutes. Not knowing where the Ministry was located, we exited at the old central bus station and took a cab for a 28 shekel fare, to Yisrael Galili St. It was both amusing and sobering to see a large sign for a law firm (perhaps immigration law?) on the ground floor of the building. The guard directed us to the second floor and the guard at the entrance to the visa office was welcoming.
The office looked like a government office—chairs lined up, kiosks with dividers along one wall, signs overhead with instructions--but it did appear well maintained. We walked up to the desk facing the entrance.
“We would like to extend our visas,” said Linda, to the rather large, youngish woman behind the desk.
“Do you have an appointment? No?, You need an appointment.” Here is where the skills we have learned to just keep asking for whatever it is you want seems to be the strategy in Israel.
“We were told that an appointment was not needed,” I offered, in a calm voice.
Rebuffed, she scowled and directed us to desk 1.
An older and younger man were seated facing the desk, talking with the agent. A young Filipino woman sat facing desk #1, so we were number two in line. After a few minutes, the agent stamped some papers and took the fees from the men. The young woman approached the desk, but apparently she did not have the required dossier so she was told to return another time. Just as she was finishing, a rather stout, short Russian woman approached us. Although I could not understand her Russian, the way she was signaling, she was asking if she could just ask the agent one question. We were too psyched to take the field and too experienced with the “just one question” request in a bureaucratic line to be gracious and I joined the chorus of Linda’s insistent “lo, lo, lo” (no, no, no) as we positioned ourselves in the seats at desk #1.
The agent, perhaps in her late 20s or early 30s, was stylishly dressed in a black and white top, with a dark sash or scarf around her neck that gave the impression of a necktie. She spoke excellent English.
“We would like to extend our tourist visas,” said Linda, as she shuffled some parts of our dossier onto the desk.
“Do you have an appointment?” she asked.
“No, we were told that an appointment was not necessary.”
Noticing a Tel Aviv address the agent asked, “Are you living in Tel Aviv? You have to do this in Tel Aviv, no, not here.”
“We were told that we could go to any office,” I politely offered.
“Who told you this?”
“Becky Caspi from UJC said that we did not have to go to the Tel Aviv office, that we could extend our visas at any office.”
“We are leaving at the end of July,” Linda added.
“When did you arrive?”
“On January 8th, so we would like to extend the visa until then.”
“No, you can only have another three months. There is nothing I can do.”
“Do you mean we have to come back in three months, even though we are leaving at the end of that month? We were told that we could have the visas extended for six months.”
That apparently was the end of the interview. She handed each of us a routine form with name, address, and etc. As she was entering our identifying information I recalled that it was a good idea to ask for a multiple entry visa so that we could travel outside of Israel.
“I can only give one entry,” she explained, but this was good news, because it was the first time that the lead was not “no.” In a few seconds the nearby computer spit two a gummed labels, the size of a passport page, one for each of us, that she affixed to each of our passports. We gave her 160 shekels each for the visa and 80 shekels each for the one re-entry. I looked at the extension date—7-20-09, Linda’s departure date—two weeks after what should have been the expiration on July 7. My own departure is the next day, so I guess I’ll be illegal for a day, but as Linda noted, the penalty for having an expired visa is probably deportation anyway. It was nice of our agent to listen.
In Israel, just keep asking until you get the answer you want.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
If the Cranes and Farmers Can Get Along...
March 21, 2009
Our day started at the Church of the Beatitudes on the shore of the Kinneret. This is the site where Jesus is believed to have delivered the Sermon on the Mount. It is a lovely site with many outdoor “chapels” for prayer services by visiting groups, in addition to the main chapel. We visited shortly after it opened and happy to do so, because we were able to experience some of the tranquility of the site, before too many tour buses started to arrive.
The Hula Nature Reserve is a remarkable story, beginning as a swampy lake that was drained in the 1950s to control mosquitoes and malaria, through the recognition that major damage was done to the ecology as a result, to the restoration of 800 acres as a migratory and nesting site for millions upon millions of migrating birds. One of the three observation towers overlooks the area where cranes reside. An impassioned and knowledgeable woman was serving as the guide, moving a powerful telescope as different birds caught her eye. We learned that cranes migrating from Russia have different dialects from those migrating from Europe! At the entrance to the observation tower was a sign explaining that an ongoing research project was underway to ameliorate the conflict between the cranes and the local farmers. Apparently, while this very attractive migratory site serves the needs of millions of birds, these birds also take advantage of the neighboring crops. Hopefully, when they resolve the conflict between the cranes and the farmers, they can move on to the conflict between the ultra-Orthodox Jews and other Jews, and then the conflict between the Jews and the Palestinians.
Rosh Pina is a beautiful town, built on a mountain, heading north from the Kinneret. Built by Romanian immigrants in 1882, after a failed settlement a few years earlier, the buildings and cobblestoned streets have the feel of a medieval city found in Tuscany, but apparently the town is indeed only 120+ years old, one of the oldest, if not the oldest Zionist town in Israel. The name comes from the line in psalms, “…stone which builders reject shall become the cornerstone.” It often pays to go down another narrow stairway. This time it led us to Chocolateh, a small coffee shop/patisserie devoted to chocolate. The setting was like that of the bowels of a medieval castle with low arches and small windows, as if the whole place had been carved out of stone. We explored the town cemetery which climbed a steep hillside. One notable feature about this cemetery was the number of ornate, as in modern art style, gravestones and markers, quite different from the usually somber stones in Jewish cemeteries. It is curious that the oldest graves were at the top of this treacherously steep site. Why wouldn’t they start at the bottom and work their way up?
We then turned our Chevy for a drive around the Kinneret, only about 50 kilometers in circumference. As with the entire Galil, in the spring, after the winter rains, the views of the mountains and the sea are glorious.
Our day started at the Church of the Beatitudes on the shore of the Kinneret. This is the site where Jesus is believed to have delivered the Sermon on the Mount. It is a lovely site with many outdoor “chapels” for prayer services by visiting groups, in addition to the main chapel. We visited shortly after it opened and happy to do so, because we were able to experience some of the tranquility of the site, before too many tour buses started to arrive.
The Hula Nature Reserve is a remarkable story, beginning as a swampy lake that was drained in the 1950s to control mosquitoes and malaria, through the recognition that major damage was done to the ecology as a result, to the restoration of 800 acres as a migratory and nesting site for millions upon millions of migrating birds. One of the three observation towers overlooks the area where cranes reside. An impassioned and knowledgeable woman was serving as the guide, moving a powerful telescope as different birds caught her eye. We learned that cranes migrating from Russia have different dialects from those migrating from Europe! At the entrance to the observation tower was a sign explaining that an ongoing research project was underway to ameliorate the conflict between the cranes and the local farmers. Apparently, while this very attractive migratory site serves the needs of millions of birds, these birds also take advantage of the neighboring crops. Hopefully, when they resolve the conflict between the cranes and the farmers, they can move on to the conflict between the ultra-Orthodox Jews and other Jews, and then the conflict between the Jews and the Palestinians.
Rosh Pina is a beautiful town, built on a mountain, heading north from the Kinneret. Built by Romanian immigrants in 1882, after a failed settlement a few years earlier, the buildings and cobblestoned streets have the feel of a medieval city found in Tuscany, but apparently the town is indeed only 120+ years old, one of the oldest, if not the oldest Zionist town in Israel. The name comes from the line in psalms, “…stone which builders reject shall become the cornerstone.” It often pays to go down another narrow stairway. This time it led us to Chocolateh, a small coffee shop/patisserie devoted to chocolate. The setting was like that of the bowels of a medieval castle with low arches and small windows, as if the whole place had been carved out of stone. We explored the town cemetery which climbed a steep hillside. One notable feature about this cemetery was the number of ornate, as in modern art style, gravestones and markers, quite different from the usually somber stones in Jewish cemeteries. It is curious that the oldest graves were at the top of this treacherously steep site. Why wouldn’t they start at the bottom and work their way up?
We then turned our Chevy for a drive around the Kinneret, only about 50 kilometers in circumference. As with the entire Galil, in the spring, after the winter rains, the views of the mountains and the sea are glorious.
Who's a Good Neighbor?
March 20, 2009
We had to come to Israel to drive a Chevrolet (see the U.S.A in a Chevrolet!), but that’s what Cal Auto was offering at a very reasonable price of $36 per day. This was two thirds or less the price at other agencies, probably because the cars are not brand new. Ours had 39,000 kilometers on it, so it was impressive to watch the agent mark every, and I mean every, scratch, smudge, and other irregularity, on the check out sheet.
Linda and I headed up the Ayalon Expressway to 65 through Afula, on our way to Korazim, just north of the Kinneret. This is the first time that I have seen the Galil in other than the dry season. The peaceful rolling hills seem covered with blankets of varying shades of green, pockmarked by the rocks and boulders that make up most of this terrain, except for the vast areas that have been cleared for farming.
We made a slight detour to Karmiel to visit Josey, the mother of friends in Chapel Hill. We worked our way through a series of traffic circles, through the center of town which seems newly built, to meet her waiting on the street in front of her apartment complex. She is a 70+ gracious, humorous, thoughtful British lady who made aliyah about 25 years ago. Her daughter, son-in-law, and two grandsons live nearby. She had prepared a light lunch to accompany what turned into a long conversation about family and about some of her experiences in Karmiel. For example, her congregation has an ongoing relationship with a Christian Arab community nearby and a women’s group used to have a similar relationship with women in another Arab community. Amusingly, the three Arab towns that neighbor Karmiel, don’t really get along with each other. She spoke of her disappointment with the changes in her apartment complex. Aside from her downstairs neighbors who have used the mandatory bomb shelter as a personal storage space, impeding her use, she commented on the demographic change reflected in the number of ultra-Orthodox Jews who have moved in. Apparently, the ultra-Orthodox are subsidized and encouraged or directed by their leaders to move into housing areas, so that her neighborhood has almost totally transformed. Sadly, they are not neighborly in the least. The men, of course, do not acknowledge her because of their difficulties in relating to women. The women are consumed by caring for the 6, 7, 8 or so children that they have, crammed into small apartments. One of the fundamental challenges facing Israel is how to build religious tolerance among sects of Judaism. David Ben Gurion made a political trade-off at the founding of the state in granting a religious monopoly to the Orthodox. Other branches of Judaism do not have official standing. In addition, substantial government funds, that is, tax funds, support this community. The ultra-Orthodox, as a group, are among the poorest in Israel, always mentioned as one of the “at-risk” sectors of Israeli society. I am respectful of ritual and the role of Jewish law, but it seems to me that being observant also means respecting an elderly neighbor, welcoming the stranger, and other behaviors are also part of building a holy community. As we said good-bye with the sun starting its slow descent marking the beginning of Shabbat, one of the neighbors had set up a table, filled with challot (bread) for members of the Orthodox community to take for their celebrations.
We arrived at the Frenkel’s bed and breakfast in Korazim, just north of the Kinneret. This who ridge overlooks the sea with gorgeous views. Erwin made aliyah in 1960. Etha was born in Israel, but had lived in the states for a number of years. Other than the obvious similarity in names, it did not take long to discover another connection. Erwin Frenkel, the retired editor of the Jerusalem Post, is a graduate of Wesleyan University.
We had to come to Israel to drive a Chevrolet (see the U.S.A in a Chevrolet!), but that’s what Cal Auto was offering at a very reasonable price of $36 per day. This was two thirds or less the price at other agencies, probably because the cars are not brand new. Ours had 39,000 kilometers on it, so it was impressive to watch the agent mark every, and I mean every, scratch, smudge, and other irregularity, on the check out sheet.
Linda and I headed up the Ayalon Expressway to 65 through Afula, on our way to Korazim, just north of the Kinneret. This is the first time that I have seen the Galil in other than the dry season. The peaceful rolling hills seem covered with blankets of varying shades of green, pockmarked by the rocks and boulders that make up most of this terrain, except for the vast areas that have been cleared for farming.
We made a slight detour to Karmiel to visit Josey, the mother of friends in Chapel Hill. We worked our way through a series of traffic circles, through the center of town which seems newly built, to meet her waiting on the street in front of her apartment complex. She is a 70+ gracious, humorous, thoughtful British lady who made aliyah about 25 years ago. Her daughter, son-in-law, and two grandsons live nearby. She had prepared a light lunch to accompany what turned into a long conversation about family and about some of her experiences in Karmiel. For example, her congregation has an ongoing relationship with a Christian Arab community nearby and a women’s group used to have a similar relationship with women in another Arab community. Amusingly, the three Arab towns that neighbor Karmiel, don’t really get along with each other. She spoke of her disappointment with the changes in her apartment complex. Aside from her downstairs neighbors who have used the mandatory bomb shelter as a personal storage space, impeding her use, she commented on the demographic change reflected in the number of ultra-Orthodox Jews who have moved in. Apparently, the ultra-Orthodox are subsidized and encouraged or directed by their leaders to move into housing areas, so that her neighborhood has almost totally transformed. Sadly, they are not neighborly in the least. The men, of course, do not acknowledge her because of their difficulties in relating to women. The women are consumed by caring for the 6, 7, 8 or so children that they have, crammed into small apartments. One of the fundamental challenges facing Israel is how to build religious tolerance among sects of Judaism. David Ben Gurion made a political trade-off at the founding of the state in granting a religious monopoly to the Orthodox. Other branches of Judaism do not have official standing. In addition, substantial government funds, that is, tax funds, support this community. The ultra-Orthodox, as a group, are among the poorest in Israel, always mentioned as one of the “at-risk” sectors of Israeli society. I am respectful of ritual and the role of Jewish law, but it seems to me that being observant also means respecting an elderly neighbor, welcoming the stranger, and other behaviors are also part of building a holy community. As we said good-bye with the sun starting its slow descent marking the beginning of Shabbat, one of the neighbors had set up a table, filled with challot (bread) for members of the Orthodox community to take for their celebrations.
We arrived at the Frenkel’s bed and breakfast in Korazim, just north of the Kinneret. This who ridge overlooks the sea with gorgeous views. Erwin made aliyah in 1960. Etha was born in Israel, but had lived in the states for a number of years. Other than the obvious similarity in names, it did not take long to discover another connection. Erwin Frenkel, the retired editor of the Jerusalem Post, is a graduate of Wesleyan University.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Teens
March 19, 2009
A gaggle of teens scrambled around the open door of the #5 sherut on Bavli, as Linda and I approached. For some reason, several decided not to board, so the driver signaled to us that there were two seats. We joined six 13-14 year old girls and two other women on the route. Several had braces on their teeth and they all had cell phones within easy access. Within seconds there was a cacophony of giggles, rapid-fire statements and responses, uproars of laughter, and more animated conversation, sometimes punctuated by the rings of cell phones. Even the customary passing of the fares from the back of the van up to the driver was animated and funny. After a few minutes, I could not resist any longer.
“So, who speaks English?” I asked.
About three of them immediately recognized my question and a second or two later the others did so there was an explosion of ”I do” or “she does.”
Now English joined the raucous mix of laugher, broken occasionally by a phrase. The driver at one point asked for “sheket” (quiet), the first time I have heard this on a sherut. We learned that they were in 8th grade, heading down to the shuk (market) to purchase sunglasses and other items for a school trip to the Negev next week. We also learned that they liked Obama and Abercrombie and Fitch. “Is she pretty?” “She has colored eyes,” meaning that her new contact lenses were tinted. Three had been to the U.S—Orlando and LA is what I heard. There was a chorus of farewell greetings and energetic waves from the bus, after we exited on Dizengoff near Frishman.
8th grade girls, bubbly, full of life, from any city and probably many, many cultures. These just happened to be riding the #5 sherut in Tel Aviv.
A gaggle of teens scrambled around the open door of the #5 sherut on Bavli, as Linda and I approached. For some reason, several decided not to board, so the driver signaled to us that there were two seats. We joined six 13-14 year old girls and two other women on the route. Several had braces on their teeth and they all had cell phones within easy access. Within seconds there was a cacophony of giggles, rapid-fire statements and responses, uproars of laughter, and more animated conversation, sometimes punctuated by the rings of cell phones. Even the customary passing of the fares from the back of the van up to the driver was animated and funny. After a few minutes, I could not resist any longer.
“So, who speaks English?” I asked.
About three of them immediately recognized my question and a second or two later the others did so there was an explosion of ”I do” or “she does.”
Now English joined the raucous mix of laugher, broken occasionally by a phrase. The driver at one point asked for “sheket” (quiet), the first time I have heard this on a sherut. We learned that they were in 8th grade, heading down to the shuk (market) to purchase sunglasses and other items for a school trip to the Negev next week. We also learned that they liked Obama and Abercrombie and Fitch. “Is she pretty?” “She has colored eyes,” meaning that her new contact lenses were tinted. Three had been to the U.S—Orlando and LA is what I heard. There was a chorus of farewell greetings and energetic waves from the bus, after we exited on Dizengoff near Frishman.
8th grade girls, bubbly, full of life, from any city and probably many, many cultures. These just happened to be riding the #5 sherut in Tel Aviv.
Academic Boycotts, Civil Society, and Peace
March 18, 2009
Academic boycotts against Israeli universities have reared their heads again, especially vociferous and strident after the recent Gaza action. Some participants, especially from Europe, had withdrawn from this conference. Stanley Fish has written cogently about this misguided behavior by members of the academic community.
Eliezer Ya’ari, CEO of the New Israel Fund chaired the plenary session. The keynote speaker for the conference was Professor Jan Aart Scholte, an economist from Warwick University in England. His remarks were entitled “Local-Global Interfaces in Civil Society: Perils and Promises for Peace.” Professor Hagai Katz introduced the speaker and addressed the boycott head on, first by thanking the speaker for attending, and noting that boycotts among academics are not productive. Scholte, a fortyish, person of rather slight build was born in Holland and moved to England about 30 years ago. He prefaced his remarks by underscoring that citizens and civil society were not the state, so that attacking civil sector/third sector colleagues missed the mark. He did make a point of saying that he himself was disturbed by Israel’s “disproportionate” military action and that these recent actions by Israel were “regrettable.” He was troubled that the civil society organizations in Israel were, for the most part, silent during the Gaza operation, assuming that such organizations, by definition, are supposed to oppose military action. One wonders what exactly was disproportionate and whether Israel’s actions were the only regrettable ones, but that was not the subject of his illuminating talk.
After noting that the EU funds both sides of the peace movement to what result and wondering if the Palestinian Authority is analogous to the Jewish Agency, a civil organization, which, at the founding of the state, became many of the ministers of the new government of Israel, his remarks addressed four points. First, he provided his definition of “civil society” as the “political space where associations of citizens seek to influence the rules and norms of social power,” quite consistent with commonly used explanations. Then, he highlighted the many global/local links, how global organizations influence local and vice versa, underscoring, however, that there appeared to be little overlap and/or collaboration between civil society organizations in Israeli society and Palestinian society. For example, do the chambers of commerce, academic societies, domestic violence centers and on and on interact? They have shared interests independent of the nations in which they operate. Indeed there is little interaction. Third, and most important, there is nothing intrinsically motivating the global/local relationship toward peace, i.e., war is just as likely a result. Supra-territorial nationalism and religious dogmatism, both examples of intense global/local relationships, have provoked much death and destruction across the world. Finally, he noted that with all of these global forces at play, accountability has become of paramount concern, not only for civil society/nonprofit organizations, but in the world of commerce as well.
Dan Bitan, Co-Director of the Israeli-Palestinian Science Organization (IPSO) was the respondent, but he spoke longer than Scholte. His comments covered two broad points. First, in what he termed the Holy Land Syndrome, civil society historically had been an instrument of colonialism and/or colonial competition was the instrument of civil society. Second, and rather elaborately, he traced the history of collaborations between Israelis and Palestinians after the PLO seemed to recognize the idea of two states at the close of the first intifada. After Oslo there was intense collaboration on the Peace Files, plans and recommendations for social, political, and economic development in the region. The second intifada brought a marked decline due to the PLO. The recent Gaza action by Israel has caused an even deeper freeze. He closed by referring to the “Obama Syndrome,” meaning everyone is waiting to see how he will proceed in the Middle East. Two questions, relevant to both speakers, are puzzling. First, while surely Israeli policy is sometimes misguided for many different reasons, there are vocal forces for alternative approaches to this conflict. Why do both speakers seem to imply that if only Israel would behave differently (if only Israel had not behaved regrettably, for example), civil society would then be able to tackle the many problems in the region? Second, and related, Scholte noted, but in a rather inconsequential way, that the term “peace” was not found in many civil organizations among the Palestinians. Why is that? Have there been demonstrations to halt the rocket attacks in the south? The fact that important questions were raised about the role of civil society and the prospects for peace is probably the only argument that need be made against academic boycotts
Academic boycotts against Israeli universities have reared their heads again, especially vociferous and strident after the recent Gaza action. Some participants, especially from Europe, had withdrawn from this conference. Stanley Fish has written cogently about this misguided behavior by members of the academic community.
Eliezer Ya’ari, CEO of the New Israel Fund chaired the plenary session. The keynote speaker for the conference was Professor Jan Aart Scholte, an economist from Warwick University in England. His remarks were entitled “Local-Global Interfaces in Civil Society: Perils and Promises for Peace.” Professor Hagai Katz introduced the speaker and addressed the boycott head on, first by thanking the speaker for attending, and noting that boycotts among academics are not productive. Scholte, a fortyish, person of rather slight build was born in Holland and moved to England about 30 years ago. He prefaced his remarks by underscoring that citizens and civil society were not the state, so that attacking civil sector/third sector colleagues missed the mark. He did make a point of saying that he himself was disturbed by Israel’s “disproportionate” military action and that these recent actions by Israel were “regrettable.” He was troubled that the civil society organizations in Israel were, for the most part, silent during the Gaza operation, assuming that such organizations, by definition, are supposed to oppose military action. One wonders what exactly was disproportionate and whether Israel’s actions were the only regrettable ones, but that was not the subject of his illuminating talk.
After noting that the EU funds both sides of the peace movement to what result and wondering if the Palestinian Authority is analogous to the Jewish Agency, a civil organization, which, at the founding of the state, became many of the ministers of the new government of Israel, his remarks addressed four points. First, he provided his definition of “civil society” as the “political space where associations of citizens seek to influence the rules and norms of social power,” quite consistent with commonly used explanations. Then, he highlighted the many global/local links, how global organizations influence local and vice versa, underscoring, however, that there appeared to be little overlap and/or collaboration between civil society organizations in Israeli society and Palestinian society. For example, do the chambers of commerce, academic societies, domestic violence centers and on and on interact? They have shared interests independent of the nations in which they operate. Indeed there is little interaction. Third, and most important, there is nothing intrinsically motivating the global/local relationship toward peace, i.e., war is just as likely a result. Supra-territorial nationalism and religious dogmatism, both examples of intense global/local relationships, have provoked much death and destruction across the world. Finally, he noted that with all of these global forces at play, accountability has become of paramount concern, not only for civil society/nonprofit organizations, but in the world of commerce as well.
Dan Bitan, Co-Director of the Israeli-Palestinian Science Organization (IPSO) was the respondent, but he spoke longer than Scholte. His comments covered two broad points. First, in what he termed the Holy Land Syndrome, civil society historically had been an instrument of colonialism and/or colonial competition was the instrument of civil society. Second, and rather elaborately, he traced the history of collaborations between Israelis and Palestinians after the PLO seemed to recognize the idea of two states at the close of the first intifada. After Oslo there was intense collaboration on the Peace Files, plans and recommendations for social, political, and economic development in the region. The second intifada brought a marked decline due to the PLO. The recent Gaza action by Israel has caused an even deeper freeze. He closed by referring to the “Obama Syndrome,” meaning everyone is waiting to see how he will proceed in the Middle East. Two questions, relevant to both speakers, are puzzling. First, while surely Israeli policy is sometimes misguided for many different reasons, there are vocal forces for alternative approaches to this conflict. Why do both speakers seem to imply that if only Israel would behave differently (if only Israel had not behaved regrettably, for example), civil society would then be able to tackle the many problems in the region? Second, and related, Scholte noted, but in a rather inconsequential way, that the term “peace” was not found in many civil organizations among the Palestinians. Why is that? Have there been demonstrations to halt the rocket attacks in the south? The fact that important questions were raised about the role of civil society and the prospects for peace is probably the only argument that need be made against academic boycotts
Needs and Priorities
March 18, 2009
The Israeli Center for Third Sector Research 12th annual conference convened at the Crowne Plaza Hotel at the Dead Sea. Atar and I drove from Tel Aviv, taking 40 south and then cutting over through Arad. Almost as if a line had been drawn, the landscape shifts from planted fields and forests, to the desert. Scattered every few miles is a Bedouin village, part of another sad and challenging saga for Israel. Israel recognized 7 or 8 official Bedouin villages, basically delegitimizing another 30-40 villages. This lack of recognition as an official village means no public resources for water development or connection to the electrical grid. Lack of recognition means that building of homes and businesses are vulnerable to police sanctions. Lack of recognition means that schools are often inaccessible to children. These are not villages in disputed territory or the villages of people hostile to the state. Bedouins serve in the IDF, for example. While there may be explanations for this situation, it is difficult to imagine a justification. This type of discrimination will likely have the effect of gradually shifting the allegiances of these people from the country of which they are citizens to those who are hostile to Israel.
The Crowne Plaza could not be more different than the villages through which we had just driven. Perched on the shore of the Dead Sea, expansive glass windows allow for beautiful views of the sea and the mountains of Jordan to the east. A huge freshwater swimming pool had more than the usual swimmers because, as a large sign indicated, a sewage leak prevented bathing in the mineral rich waters of the Dead Sea. A morning exercise class, with people of all ages, was going through preliminary stretching on the grassy area near the pool. People wander in the lobby wearing terry cloth robes on their way to the spa services in the hotel. We were here for work, however.
The morning workshops were in Hebrew so I sat in the lobby, intent on doing some reading. Within a few minutes, however, Noam, the husband of a co-worker from Sheatufim walked up. He and 6 month old Hallelly, looking forward from the carrier on his chest, greeted me. For the next hour or so we talked, but with the baby in charge we moved from couches with her toys, to pacing through the lobby and the bar, back to the couches, changed a diaper, and then she finally fell asleep. Noam and Miri are part of a 30 member urban kibbutz in Beer Sheva. Early in Israel’s history, young people were encouraged to establish kibbutzim in the periphery in order to bolster the defense of the fledging state. Now, this same spirit moves some young people to establish kibbutzim in communities where the needs are great. Beer Sheva, the capital of the Negev, is one such community. The 30 current members emerged from service in the IDF, intent on making a difference as a group. At this time, most are married or in couples, but there are several single men and one single woman. One early debate which fractured the original group was whether members should pursue their individual educations or that they should learn as a group. Those that opposed individual education left the kibbutz. Noam works with at-risk youth and only two months ago established a coffee house that serves as part of their training and education. There they learn how to hold a job, earn money, and provide for themselves, with the help of a social worker and other staff. Are these young people in school? Yes and no. The educational authorities do give them credit for their work experience, but mainly because school budgets are driven by enrollment, so it is in the interest of the local school to consider them “enrolled,” even though Noam and his staff see none of those resources. Two themes of special interest emerged in our intense conversation. First, many of these young adults, all with IDF service, have now become much less committed to military approaches to Israel’s foreign threats. Indeed, they have spent time working with Bedouin communities in the Negev and picking olives in the territories of the West Bank. Some have refused reserve duty, now that they have established these relationships. Second, Noam expresses so well the need to re-define the philanthropic relationship between the U.S. Jewish community and Israel. It is time for these two communities to come together as partners, to assess mutual needs, and examine how to address them. The one-way relationship between the U.S. Jewish community as donors, and the needy, less empowered community of Israel needs to transform into a partnership, in his view. I am looking forward to a visit to Beer Sheva.
The Israeli Center for Third Sector Research 12th annual conference convened at the Crowne Plaza Hotel at the Dead Sea. Atar and I drove from Tel Aviv, taking 40 south and then cutting over through Arad. Almost as if a line had been drawn, the landscape shifts from planted fields and forests, to the desert. Scattered every few miles is a Bedouin village, part of another sad and challenging saga for Israel. Israel recognized 7 or 8 official Bedouin villages, basically delegitimizing another 30-40 villages. This lack of recognition as an official village means no public resources for water development or connection to the electrical grid. Lack of recognition means that building of homes and businesses are vulnerable to police sanctions. Lack of recognition means that schools are often inaccessible to children. These are not villages in disputed territory or the villages of people hostile to the state. Bedouins serve in the IDF, for example. While there may be explanations for this situation, it is difficult to imagine a justification. This type of discrimination will likely have the effect of gradually shifting the allegiances of these people from the country of which they are citizens to those who are hostile to Israel.
The Crowne Plaza could not be more different than the villages through which we had just driven. Perched on the shore of the Dead Sea, expansive glass windows allow for beautiful views of the sea and the mountains of Jordan to the east. A huge freshwater swimming pool had more than the usual swimmers because, as a large sign indicated, a sewage leak prevented bathing in the mineral rich waters of the Dead Sea. A morning exercise class, with people of all ages, was going through preliminary stretching on the grassy area near the pool. People wander in the lobby wearing terry cloth robes on their way to the spa services in the hotel. We were here for work, however.
The morning workshops were in Hebrew so I sat in the lobby, intent on doing some reading. Within a few minutes, however, Noam, the husband of a co-worker from Sheatufim walked up. He and 6 month old Hallelly, looking forward from the carrier on his chest, greeted me. For the next hour or so we talked, but with the baby in charge we moved from couches with her toys, to pacing through the lobby and the bar, back to the couches, changed a diaper, and then she finally fell asleep. Noam and Miri are part of a 30 member urban kibbutz in Beer Sheva. Early in Israel’s history, young people were encouraged to establish kibbutzim in the periphery in order to bolster the defense of the fledging state. Now, this same spirit moves some young people to establish kibbutzim in communities where the needs are great. Beer Sheva, the capital of the Negev, is one such community. The 30 current members emerged from service in the IDF, intent on making a difference as a group. At this time, most are married or in couples, but there are several single men and one single woman. One early debate which fractured the original group was whether members should pursue their individual educations or that they should learn as a group. Those that opposed individual education left the kibbutz. Noam works with at-risk youth and only two months ago established a coffee house that serves as part of their training and education. There they learn how to hold a job, earn money, and provide for themselves, with the help of a social worker and other staff. Are these young people in school? Yes and no. The educational authorities do give them credit for their work experience, but mainly because school budgets are driven by enrollment, so it is in the interest of the local school to consider them “enrolled,” even though Noam and his staff see none of those resources. Two themes of special interest emerged in our intense conversation. First, many of these young adults, all with IDF service, have now become much less committed to military approaches to Israel’s foreign threats. Indeed, they have spent time working with Bedouin communities in the Negev and picking olives in the territories of the West Bank. Some have refused reserve duty, now that they have established these relationships. Second, Noam expresses so well the need to re-define the philanthropic relationship between the U.S. Jewish community and Israel. It is time for these two communities to come together as partners, to assess mutual needs, and examine how to address them. The one-way relationship between the U.S. Jewish community as donors, and the needy, less empowered community of Israel needs to transform into a partnership, in his view. I am looking forward to a visit to Beer Sheva.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Gal’s Bar Mitzvah
March 14, 2009
Gal’s 16 year old brother, Ori, led off the family presentations after Gal delivered his devar. Ori began with brief remarks and then, in a lovely voice, accompanying himself on the guitar, he sang a heart-warming Israeli song encouraging his younger brother not to worry, that everything would work out.
Lee Perlman has served on the board of Beit Daniel, so he was able to provide some insights on its mission. Lee emphasized that the head rabbi, Meir Azari, leads by charisma, that he has defined the mission for now. That mission seems to be to provide a place for people to experience their Judaism in ways that suit their personal needs. His goal is not primarily to build a community based at Beit Daniel, but to offer in Lee’s term “sparks.” This explains why there is a Beit Daniel Center nearby in Jaffa. The idea is to provide another place for people to experience their Judaism, through a minyan or lectures or a pre-school and etc.. This also explains why I see different kids and different families each week on Shabbat. Families choose to provide a bar or bat mitzvah for their children and Beit Daniel accommodates them, providing that “spark,” but not building a community of Beit Daniel families. If some become members, that’s great, but if they do not, they have taken a Jewish ritual and made it meaningful.
Gal’s 16 year old brother, Ori, led off the family presentations after Gal delivered his devar. Ori began with brief remarks and then, in a lovely voice, accompanying himself on the guitar, he sang a heart-warming Israeli song encouraging his younger brother not to worry, that everything would work out.
Lee Perlman has served on the board of Beit Daniel, so he was able to provide some insights on its mission. Lee emphasized that the head rabbi, Meir Azari, leads by charisma, that he has defined the mission for now. That mission seems to be to provide a place for people to experience their Judaism in ways that suit their personal needs. His goal is not primarily to build a community based at Beit Daniel, but to offer in Lee’s term “sparks.” This explains why there is a Beit Daniel Center nearby in Jaffa. The idea is to provide another place for people to experience their Judaism, through a minyan or lectures or a pre-school and etc.. This also explains why I see different kids and different families each week on Shabbat. Families choose to provide a bar or bat mitzvah for their children and Beit Daniel accommodates them, providing that “spark,” but not building a community of Beit Daniel families. If some become members, that’s great, but if they do not, they have taken a Jewish ritual and made it meaningful.
Waves of Freedom
March 13, 2009
“Somebody on the phone asked me if I wanted to help my people,” begins Waves of Freedom, a moving documentary about the experience of about a half dozen young Americans of the more than 200 volunteers (mostly, but not all, Jews) who crewed “ships” attempting to run the British blockade of Palestine in 1947 and 1948, before independence was declared. I say “ships” because as one of the participants comments, “a boat you can put on a ship, this is not a ship, this is a boat.” Almost everybody has read Exodus by Leon Uris or seen the movie starring Paul Newman. The Hollywood version of this dramatic episode in the creation of Israel is only one of many stirring examples of these heroic rescue efforts. The English-speaking Friends of Tel Aviv University sponsored a showing of Waves of Freedom, which is one such story, and invited the director, Alan Rosenberg, two of the crew members, Murray Greenstein and Harold Katz (now in their early 80s), and one of the rescued to a panel discussion after the showing. These then young men were recruited because they were known to have either navy or merchant marine experience during the war. Through subterfuge orchestrated by the Haganah, the boat (ultimately named Hatikvah (Hope)) was purchased in New York, repaired in Miami and sailed across the treacherous Atlantic for outfitting in Lisbon to ferry 1500 Displaced Persons who had made the perilous journey across the Alps to get to their rendezvous point on the Mediterranean. The movie wonderfully captures the spirit and commitment of these young men. Imagine graduating from college and instead of taking your passion to the Peace Corps or American Jewish World Service, you volunteer to risk your life crewing barely seaworthy boats attempting to shepherd desperate people to freedom and new lives.
I wish the panel discussion had been as stirring. Perhaps because this audience of about 150 people was, on average, probably 15 years older than I, they seemed to know what they knew and did not want to be bothered by what they did not know. The first person “asked,” “I think this movie should be shown to all Israeli school children.” The person “asked,” “No, I think this movie should be shown to all children in England.” Emboldened by these questions, when called upon, I stood up and said, “I rise in respect to your courage and commitment to kol Yisrael areyvim ze la ze (all Jews are responsible, one for another). Kol hakavod (with all respect). Here’s my question for you and really everybody in the audience. Where would you direct the courage and commitment of today’s young Jews to make a difference for our people, as you did 60 years ago?” One responded that young Jews should go to synagogue and the other said that they need more education. Not really what I was hoping for. Finally, there was a question about what their parents thought of their decisions to do this. As Murray Greenstein said, in those days in the growing middle class Jewish community, if you did not go to college, you were not really considered Jewish! However, his mother said to him in Yiddish, “if it’s good for the Jews, you don’t have to go to college.” See the movie.
“Somebody on the phone asked me if I wanted to help my people,” begins Waves of Freedom, a moving documentary about the experience of about a half dozen young Americans of the more than 200 volunteers (mostly, but not all, Jews) who crewed “ships” attempting to run the British blockade of Palestine in 1947 and 1948, before independence was declared. I say “ships” because as one of the participants comments, “a boat you can put on a ship, this is not a ship, this is a boat.” Almost everybody has read Exodus by Leon Uris or seen the movie starring Paul Newman. The Hollywood version of this dramatic episode in the creation of Israel is only one of many stirring examples of these heroic rescue efforts. The English-speaking Friends of Tel Aviv University sponsored a showing of Waves of Freedom, which is one such story, and invited the director, Alan Rosenberg, two of the crew members, Murray Greenstein and Harold Katz (now in their early 80s), and one of the rescued to a panel discussion after the showing. These then young men were recruited because they were known to have either navy or merchant marine experience during the war. Through subterfuge orchestrated by the Haganah, the boat (ultimately named Hatikvah (Hope)) was purchased in New York, repaired in Miami and sailed across the treacherous Atlantic for outfitting in Lisbon to ferry 1500 Displaced Persons who had made the perilous journey across the Alps to get to their rendezvous point on the Mediterranean. The movie wonderfully captures the spirit and commitment of these young men. Imagine graduating from college and instead of taking your passion to the Peace Corps or American Jewish World Service, you volunteer to risk your life crewing barely seaworthy boats attempting to shepherd desperate people to freedom and new lives.
I wish the panel discussion had been as stirring. Perhaps because this audience of about 150 people was, on average, probably 15 years older than I, they seemed to know what they knew and did not want to be bothered by what they did not know. The first person “asked,” “I think this movie should be shown to all Israeli school children.” The person “asked,” “No, I think this movie should be shown to all children in England.” Emboldened by these questions, when called upon, I stood up and said, “I rise in respect to your courage and commitment to kol Yisrael areyvim ze la ze (all Jews are responsible, one for another). Kol hakavod (with all respect). Here’s my question for you and really everybody in the audience. Where would you direct the courage and commitment of today’s young Jews to make a difference for our people, as you did 60 years ago?” One responded that young Jews should go to synagogue and the other said that they need more education. Not really what I was hoping for. Finally, there was a question about what their parents thought of their decisions to do this. As Murray Greenstein said, in those days in the growing middle class Jewish community, if you did not go to college, you were not really considered Jewish! However, his mother said to him in Yiddish, “if it’s good for the Jews, you don’t have to go to college.” See the movie.
Jewish Texts and Tzedakah
I have been excited by many experiences toward two of my three goals in coming to Israel. The third, studying Jewish text that informs tzedakah, has been more problematic until today. Noam Zion, a faculty member at the Hartman Institute (www.hartmaninstitute.com), visited Beth El in Durham in February where he spoke on the subject of Tzedakah, Philanthropy and Charity. I contacted him upon his return to Israel to describe my interests. He shared with me the draft manuscript that was the basis of his talk. As a thoughtful explication of narratives about tzedakah it will be an excellent resource, but moreso, the manuscript is likely to be a wonderful document for teaching. As I read the first 100 pages, a passage would prompt a question for me and then two paragraphs later the question is addressed. As with all good teachers, Noam has that important skill of anticipating the questions, of knowing what students might ask, even if they themselves don’t yet know what the questions are. I met with him today at the Hartman Institute and he suggested that I was the type of audience that he is seeking for his book—-people of at least moderate Jewish literacy, with interest/experience in contemporary issues of tzedakah. I am delighted that he offered the opportunity to work with him, learn from him, as an engaged reader of drafts.
More on the Joint
March 12, 2009
My second visit AJDC reinforces the palpable aura that people in this organization are making a difference in the lives of people in need. There’s probably something about the pictures in the lobby that serve as an emotional lens to focus energy on the tasks at hand. Today I met with Sam Amiel, a program manager who came from Seattle 15 years ago. We discussed two of his responsibilities, the first briefly, but it is worth mentioning. The JDC has been developing employment programs as one approach to the high levels of poverty in Israel. There are several groups that have high risks of unemployment: ultra Orthodox, Israeli Arabs, immigrants from Ethiopia, people with disabilities, and “at-risk” youth. The latter are kids who get to the age of 21 or 22, even with army service, but still lack the basic skills to function in an increasingly technical and global market. These groups in need of employment assistance number 900,000, an extraordinary figure in a country of 6 million inhabitants. This number speaks to the deficiencies in the Israeli educational system and other basic skill-building services. The second, and a major area of Joint activity for many years, is skill-building, capacity-building in senior government employees. As Sam noted, “there is no Kennedy School here” or similar kinds of institutions that provide high quality training and an upwardly mobile career path for Israelis interested in government service. Recall the previous discussion of the large number of Knesset members who hold ministerial portfolios in any government which would seem to compromise even further the capacity to develop a core of competent, long-term government officials. The JDC is now planning to develop training on organizational issues for lay leaders of boards and the professional staff of their nonprofits, working with Sheatufim and other organizations.
An interesting issue is the governance of the AJDC. As an American organization, the board, up until recently, was composed entirely of Americans. Recently, two people from England and one from Australia were invited to join the board. It is unlikely, however, that Israelis will be invited to join the board. Important questions are why the Joint would be reluctant to relinquish its American monopoly and what disempowering effects are there on Israelis, when they are limited from participating in the governance of this organization that plays such an influential role in the life of the country.
My second visit AJDC reinforces the palpable aura that people in this organization are making a difference in the lives of people in need. There’s probably something about the pictures in the lobby that serve as an emotional lens to focus energy on the tasks at hand. Today I met with Sam Amiel, a program manager who came from Seattle 15 years ago. We discussed two of his responsibilities, the first briefly, but it is worth mentioning. The JDC has been developing employment programs as one approach to the high levels of poverty in Israel. There are several groups that have high risks of unemployment: ultra Orthodox, Israeli Arabs, immigrants from Ethiopia, people with disabilities, and “at-risk” youth. The latter are kids who get to the age of 21 or 22, even with army service, but still lack the basic skills to function in an increasingly technical and global market. These groups in need of employment assistance number 900,000, an extraordinary figure in a country of 6 million inhabitants. This number speaks to the deficiencies in the Israeli educational system and other basic skill-building services. The second, and a major area of Joint activity for many years, is skill-building, capacity-building in senior government employees. As Sam noted, “there is no Kennedy School here” or similar kinds of institutions that provide high quality training and an upwardly mobile career path for Israelis interested in government service. Recall the previous discussion of the large number of Knesset members who hold ministerial portfolios in any government which would seem to compromise even further the capacity to develop a core of competent, long-term government officials. The JDC is now planning to develop training on organizational issues for lay leaders of boards and the professional staff of their nonprofits, working with Sheatufim and other organizations.
An interesting issue is the governance of the AJDC. As an American organization, the board, up until recently, was composed entirely of Americans. Recently, two people from England and one from Australia were invited to join the board. It is unlikely, however, that Israelis will be invited to join the board. Important questions are why the Joint would be reluctant to relinquish its American monopoly and what disempowering effects are there on Israelis, when they are limited from participating in the governance of this organization that plays such an influential role in the life of the country.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
What Did You Vote For?
March 11
There has been tremendous and continuing controversy over the candidacy of Avignor Lieberman. His party Israel Beiteinu (Israel Our Home) won 15 seats, the third most behind Likud (27) and Kadima (28), so Netanyahu, the Likud leader asked by the President to try to form a government, has invited him into a coalition. His primary plank called for a “loyalty oath” by all Israelis. This proposal put into action his strident calls for greater restrictions on Arab Israelis who, for the most part, have not acclimated themselves to the reality of living in a Jewish state. His views, however, do not flow from a religious foundation, so he differs with the religious Zionists in settlements in the territories or the ultra-Orthodox. Some voters, and perhaps many, were drawn to his views on decreasing the monopoly of the Orthodox Rabbinate on religious life in Israel, as well as rationalizing the way the government is elected and organized. A quote from today’s Haaretz shows the serious flaw in the Israeli electoral system:
“Lieberman has reportedly backed down from most of his demands for the civil marriage law, a solution to the conversion problem and changing the system of government.”
If your vote was for those planks, too bad. Many political scientists have called for efforts to create parties around some common overarching themes. For example, in the U.S., one could say that the Democrat party favors a larger government role and the Republican party greater state and individual autonomy. While Bush and the irresponsible Republican Congress put the lie to this (vast increases in entitlements and discretionary funding), these themes generally guide voting. As for electoral reform in Israel, if it is even on the table, it is under the tablecloth.
There has been tremendous and continuing controversy over the candidacy of Avignor Lieberman. His party Israel Beiteinu (Israel Our Home) won 15 seats, the third most behind Likud (27) and Kadima (28), so Netanyahu, the Likud leader asked by the President to try to form a government, has invited him into a coalition. His primary plank called for a “loyalty oath” by all Israelis. This proposal put into action his strident calls for greater restrictions on Arab Israelis who, for the most part, have not acclimated themselves to the reality of living in a Jewish state. His views, however, do not flow from a religious foundation, so he differs with the religious Zionists in settlements in the territories or the ultra-Orthodox. Some voters, and perhaps many, were drawn to his views on decreasing the monopoly of the Orthodox Rabbinate on religious life in Israel, as well as rationalizing the way the government is elected and organized. A quote from today’s Haaretz shows the serious flaw in the Israeli electoral system:
“Lieberman has reportedly backed down from most of his demands for the civil marriage law, a solution to the conversion problem and changing the system of government.”
If your vote was for those planks, too bad. Many political scientists have called for efforts to create parties around some common overarching themes. For example, in the U.S., one could say that the Democrat party favors a larger government role and the Republican party greater state and individual autonomy. While Bush and the irresponsible Republican Congress put the lie to this (vast increases in entitlements and discretionary funding), these themes generally guide voting. As for electoral reform in Israel, if it is even on the table, it is under the tablecloth.
Setting Priorities
March 10, 2009
Lee Perlman is the Director of Progams and Planning at UJC’s Office of Global Operations headquartered in Jerusalem. He assumed this position only a few months ago, after many years working with the Abraham Fund (www.abrahamfund.org). We met at Sheatufim late in the afternoon. Is there a connection? Of course. About half way through our discussion, he mentioned that he lived in Tel Aviv. I asked if he was driving back.
“Where do you live?” he asked.
“Bavli.”
“Where in Bavli?”
“Rehov Bavli.”
“What address?”
“Number 16.”
“I live at 13 Bavli,” he said (almost directly across the street from us)!
Just for North Carolina flavor, I should add that he spent the summers from 6th through 8th grade in the Tar Heel state at Camp Catawba, run by a German Jewish woman who lived on the 5th floor of his brownstone in Manhattan.
Whereas tzedakah as a value underscores conversations about giving in the Jewish community in the U.S., in Israel the term seems to be applied in a rather narrow way, to the few coins that one might give to a beggar on the street. The terms “social investment” and “philanthropy” are the currency for discourse about giving. Both of these terms seem to focus more on the idea of individual giving to accomplish a particular social goal—-train a group of kids so that they will be able to find productive jobs, provide enrichment for Ethiopian pre-schools so that they will be ready to learn in kindergarten, and others---rather than the idea of participation in communal giving to accomplish community-determined goals and priorities. This characterizes the secular community, while members of religious communities (not just the ultra-Orthodox) more consciously address the role of tzedakah as a motivation for giving communally.
With regard to gifts to Israel from the U.S., the national picture looks similar to the local picture, but more complicated. In many communities this process of convening and assessing is a fundamental role of local Jewish federations. Specifically, what is needed nationally is a mechanism to assess needs and then set priorities in order to make the substantial contributions from the U.S. most effective. In addition, this type of needs assessment would facilitate coordination with government programs, so as to complement or supplement, but not to replace those government responsibilities. There is, of course, the third component now (after U.S. gifts and government resources) of Israeli philanthropists who also would benefit from the big picture needs assessment. Historically, JAFI and JDC working closely with the government and UJC as the main partner, have undertaken this assessment process, but it’s not clear how focused or intentional this type of process is today. That is, in some ways it appears that history and tradition guide allocation decisions, without the benefit of measures of effect or impact. This traditional/historical momentum is undoubtedly one of the motivations for organizations like the New Israel Fund to step in. When it was founded it brought its lens to the question of needs. These are just some initial thoughts that I intend to explore and develop further.
Lee Perlman is the Director of Progams and Planning at UJC’s Office of Global Operations headquartered in Jerusalem. He assumed this position only a few months ago, after many years working with the Abraham Fund (www.abrahamfund.org). We met at Sheatufim late in the afternoon. Is there a connection? Of course. About half way through our discussion, he mentioned that he lived in Tel Aviv. I asked if he was driving back.
“Where do you live?” he asked.
“Bavli.”
“Where in Bavli?”
“Rehov Bavli.”
“What address?”
“Number 16.”
“I live at 13 Bavli,” he said (almost directly across the street from us)!
Just for North Carolina flavor, I should add that he spent the summers from 6th through 8th grade in the Tar Heel state at Camp Catawba, run by a German Jewish woman who lived on the 5th floor of his brownstone in Manhattan.
Whereas tzedakah as a value underscores conversations about giving in the Jewish community in the U.S., in Israel the term seems to be applied in a rather narrow way, to the few coins that one might give to a beggar on the street. The terms “social investment” and “philanthropy” are the currency for discourse about giving. Both of these terms seem to focus more on the idea of individual giving to accomplish a particular social goal—-train a group of kids so that they will be able to find productive jobs, provide enrichment for Ethiopian pre-schools so that they will be ready to learn in kindergarten, and others---rather than the idea of participation in communal giving to accomplish community-determined goals and priorities. This characterizes the secular community, while members of religious communities (not just the ultra-Orthodox) more consciously address the role of tzedakah as a motivation for giving communally.
With regard to gifts to Israel from the U.S., the national picture looks similar to the local picture, but more complicated. In many communities this process of convening and assessing is a fundamental role of local Jewish federations. Specifically, what is needed nationally is a mechanism to assess needs and then set priorities in order to make the substantial contributions from the U.S. most effective. In addition, this type of needs assessment would facilitate coordination with government programs, so as to complement or supplement, but not to replace those government responsibilities. There is, of course, the third component now (after U.S. gifts and government resources) of Israeli philanthropists who also would benefit from the big picture needs assessment. Historically, JAFI and JDC working closely with the government and UJC as the main partner, have undertaken this assessment process, but it’s not clear how focused or intentional this type of process is today. That is, in some ways it appears that history and tradition guide allocation decisions, without the benefit of measures of effect or impact. This traditional/historical momentum is undoubtedly one of the motivations for organizations like the New Israel Fund to step in. When it was founded it brought its lens to the question of needs. These are just some initial thoughts that I intend to explore and develop further.
Friday, March 13, 2009
What if Free Choice is Not in Your Best Interest?
March 10
What is the role of autonomy in assessing strategies to help Jews in such dire need that they must be evacuated from their country of origin? Specifically, what role should autonomy play in deciding to bring Jews to Israel or to the U.S.? Although thousands of Jews made aliyah from Yemen after the founding of Israel, there has been a persistent community there. Following the December assassination of a community leader, most of the community has decided to leave. The Jewish Agency for Israel, one of the two major partners (along with the Joint Distribution Committee) of the Jewish federations, is of course ready and able to accommodate their needs in Israel. Because the Yemeni community has, for many years, had a relationship with the Satmar Jewish community in New York, about 110 Yemeni Jews (about 25 families) would like to immigrate to New York. The U.S. State Department has agreed to this request in view of the threats to this community in Yemen. The Federation was faced with a difficult dilemma. As you may know, the Satmar community is one of the most vocal anti-Zionist/Israel Jewish sects. On the one hand, as Jews, we should respect the personal choices of these 25 families and support them accordingly in their time of need. On the other we are collaborating with an anti-Zionist sect. Even though the Satmar have committed to providing resources for these Yemeni Jews, the UJC, working with assorted New York and federal agencies will need to be heavily involved. One of the core values of Israel is to provide a home for any Jew in need, but does that value supersede the personal decisions that Jews in need make, when there are alternatives? This is a good question to ponder on Shabbat.
What is the role of autonomy in assessing strategies to help Jews in such dire need that they must be evacuated from their country of origin? Specifically, what role should autonomy play in deciding to bring Jews to Israel or to the U.S.? Although thousands of Jews made aliyah from Yemen after the founding of Israel, there has been a persistent community there. Following the December assassination of a community leader, most of the community has decided to leave. The Jewish Agency for Israel, one of the two major partners (along with the Joint Distribution Committee) of the Jewish federations, is of course ready and able to accommodate their needs in Israel. Because the Yemeni community has, for many years, had a relationship with the Satmar Jewish community in New York, about 110 Yemeni Jews (about 25 families) would like to immigrate to New York. The U.S. State Department has agreed to this request in view of the threats to this community in Yemen. The Federation was faced with a difficult dilemma. As you may know, the Satmar community is one of the most vocal anti-Zionist/Israel Jewish sects. On the one hand, as Jews, we should respect the personal choices of these 25 families and support them accordingly in their time of need. On the other we are collaborating with an anti-Zionist sect. Even though the Satmar have committed to providing resources for these Yemeni Jews, the UJC, working with assorted New York and federal agencies will need to be heavily involved. One of the core values of Israel is to provide a home for any Jew in need, but does that value supersede the personal decisions that Jews in need make, when there are alternatives? This is a good question to ponder on Shabbat.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Being Jewish in Israel
March 9, 2009
I met with Amit, part owner with his wife, of a small marketing firm that had done some graphics for Sheatufim. The office is located at the beginning of Rothschild in one of the first office buildings constructed soon after the founding of Tel Aviv in 1909. He asked me if I had been on this part of Rothschild and then took me to the floor length window, opened it and asked if I knew the building across the street. He proudly told me that it was the first Knesset building, where David Ben-Gurion declared the founding of the state. “There were many people dancing in the street. It’s too bad,” he added,” that the building is not kept in better condition.”
I asked him his plans for Purim. He told me that he was going to pick up his 3 year old son, drive him to his grandmother’s house in Jerusalem and then come home to sleep, because the family is still adjusting to a new, two week old baby sister. “When I was without children,” he added, I would go to many parties on Purim. It’s good in Israel. You can be Jewish and not have to go to the synagogue.”
By today (with the Megillah reading tonight), the spirit is everywhere. Kids of all ages are dressed in every imaginable costume. In fact yesterday, Haaretz had a picture of a kid costumed as a terrorist, Ketushya rocket and all. Walking to the Azraeli station, located at the Azraeli Towers, one of the super modern commercial/business developments in this bustling city, I noticed many angels, devils, cowboys and cowgirls, but not too many Queen Esthers or Haman’s. We attended the Megillah reading at Beit Daniel. The social hall was packed with probably 200 people, from young teens to elderly, almost all in costume. The children’s reading had taken place an hour earlier. They were serving wine and cider, but it did not appear that at this early hour anybody had yet reached the point where they could not “tell the difference between cursing Haman and blessing Mordecai” (B.T. Megilla 7B). That is taking place on Rothschild, Rabin Square and other popular gathering places.
I met with Amit, part owner with his wife, of a small marketing firm that had done some graphics for Sheatufim. The office is located at the beginning of Rothschild in one of the first office buildings constructed soon after the founding of Tel Aviv in 1909. He asked me if I had been on this part of Rothschild and then took me to the floor length window, opened it and asked if I knew the building across the street. He proudly told me that it was the first Knesset building, where David Ben-Gurion declared the founding of the state. “There were many people dancing in the street. It’s too bad,” he added,” that the building is not kept in better condition.”
I asked him his plans for Purim. He told me that he was going to pick up his 3 year old son, drive him to his grandmother’s house in Jerusalem and then come home to sleep, because the family is still adjusting to a new, two week old baby sister. “When I was without children,” he added, I would go to many parties on Purim. It’s good in Israel. You can be Jewish and not have to go to the synagogue.”
By today (with the Megillah reading tonight), the spirit is everywhere. Kids of all ages are dressed in every imaginable costume. In fact yesterday, Haaretz had a picture of a kid costumed as a terrorist, Ketushya rocket and all. Walking to the Azraeli station, located at the Azraeli Towers, one of the super modern commercial/business developments in this bustling city, I noticed many angels, devils, cowboys and cowgirls, but not too many Queen Esthers or Haman’s. We attended the Megillah reading at Beit Daniel. The social hall was packed with probably 200 people, from young teens to elderly, almost all in costume. The children’s reading had taken place an hour earlier. They were serving wine and cider, but it did not appear that at this early hour anybody had yet reached the point where they could not “tell the difference between cursing Haman and blessing Mordecai” (B.T. Megilla 7B). That is taking place on Rothschild, Rabin Square and other popular gathering places.
Karin's Bat Mitzvah
March 7, 2009
This Shabbat was the first bat mitzvah that I have attended at Beit Daniel. It’s not that girls don’t participate, it’s just the way the schedule has worked out. In addition to being the first girl, Karin was the first to not wear gym shoes; she wore low flats. As we know there’s quite a difference between 13 year old girls and boys. Karin was very expressive, indeed tears flowed as she carried the Torah. As is the custom, after the devar, the mother or father and sometimes both make remarks. After Karin’s father made his remarks, she returned to the bima, because she had more to say. She proceeded to deliver a 3 or 4 minute speech filled with “todahs” (thanks yous). What was particularly touching was that she made a point of turning to look way back to her right to say thanks to the rabbi and then turning way back to her left to say thank you to the cantor, confidently spoken through the tears of happiness.
On Saturday night, Linda and I took the #501 on Namir up to the Herzliya Art Museum. An ulpan classmate of hers is a cultural attaché for Colombia, so she invited us to the opening of an exhibit by Oscar Munoz. The buses don’t run on Shabbat, but they do start up again after sundown and it was quite surprising to see every seat taken and a few people standing for the 30 minute trip up to Herzliya.
This Shabbat was the first bat mitzvah that I have attended at Beit Daniel. It’s not that girls don’t participate, it’s just the way the schedule has worked out. In addition to being the first girl, Karin was the first to not wear gym shoes; she wore low flats. As we know there’s quite a difference between 13 year old girls and boys. Karin was very expressive, indeed tears flowed as she carried the Torah. As is the custom, after the devar, the mother or father and sometimes both make remarks. After Karin’s father made his remarks, she returned to the bima, because she had more to say. She proceeded to deliver a 3 or 4 minute speech filled with “todahs” (thanks yous). What was particularly touching was that she made a point of turning to look way back to her right to say thanks to the rabbi and then turning way back to her left to say thank you to the cantor, confidently spoken through the tears of happiness.
On Saturday night, Linda and I took the #501 on Namir up to the Herzliya Art Museum. An ulpan classmate of hers is a cultural attaché for Colombia, so she invited us to the opening of an exhibit by Oscar Munoz. The buses don’t run on Shabbat, but they do start up again after sundown and it was quite surprising to see every seat taken and a few people standing for the 30 minute trip up to Herzliya.
Adloyada (Until You Don't Know)
March 6, 2009
Israeli’s seem to start celebrating Purim at least 5 or 6 days before the actual holiday. Atar invited us to join her and Ziv at the Adloyada parade in Raanana, the city where she had grown up. All the schools in the area design costumes and in some cases very simple floats (the Rose Parade this isn’t) about the theme of the environment. Beginning at 10:30 the parade commenced with music over loudspeakers interrupted by a periodic trumpet fanfare as the announcer introduced the next school as well as various sponsors of the event. For over an hour, kids (as well as proud parent chaperones!) from kindergarten through high school marched, one group after the next, in creative uniforms made from garbage bags, plastic bottles, scraps of cloth and etc. Several of the schools sported instrumental groups, including a few marching violin players. The papers have had stories about Adloyada plans for several weeks now. Holon is apparently the highlight with thousands of marchers and entertainment. In one city, the mayor was heavily criticized for spending 200,000 NIS to upgrade their parade, but he said it would bring business and recognition to the city. Sounds like he should put in a bid for a National Football League franchise and subsidize that with taxpayer money.
After the parade we stopped at the new home of her parents in a small development outside of Raanana. Her mother gave us a tour, pointing out how they had designed the house to accommodate any needs that might arise as they age, such as wide corridors for wheelchairs. This was the first time that we have seen one of the mandatory shelter rooms, which looks like a regular room, but has reinforced walls and windows and a ventilation system, a building requirement after the rocket attacks from Iraq during the first Gulf War. He father asked a very probing question, “What is the difference in your opinion of Israel between a short visit and this longer visit?” which I’ll come back to in a later posting. We then met Gil on the Kfar Vitkin beach for a delicious lunch at the House of Fish. I am not sure what Ziv, nearly 3, makes of my Hebrew communication skills, but he is very friendly and talkative nonetheless. He played by himself while we ate, but then wanted to go down the beach to the water, so I happily obliged. About all I could say after we put our feet in the chilly water and he scooted away was “lo cham” (not hot) to which he seemed to understand and agree!
Israeli’s seem to start celebrating Purim at least 5 or 6 days before the actual holiday. Atar invited us to join her and Ziv at the Adloyada parade in Raanana, the city where she had grown up. All the schools in the area design costumes and in some cases very simple floats (the Rose Parade this isn’t) about the theme of the environment. Beginning at 10:30 the parade commenced with music over loudspeakers interrupted by a periodic trumpet fanfare as the announcer introduced the next school as well as various sponsors of the event. For over an hour, kids (as well as proud parent chaperones!) from kindergarten through high school marched, one group after the next, in creative uniforms made from garbage bags, plastic bottles, scraps of cloth and etc. Several of the schools sported instrumental groups, including a few marching violin players. The papers have had stories about Adloyada plans for several weeks now. Holon is apparently the highlight with thousands of marchers and entertainment. In one city, the mayor was heavily criticized for spending 200,000 NIS to upgrade their parade, but he said it would bring business and recognition to the city. Sounds like he should put in a bid for a National Football League franchise and subsidize that with taxpayer money.
After the parade we stopped at the new home of her parents in a small development outside of Raanana. Her mother gave us a tour, pointing out how they had designed the house to accommodate any needs that might arise as they age, such as wide corridors for wheelchairs. This was the first time that we have seen one of the mandatory shelter rooms, which looks like a regular room, but has reinforced walls and windows and a ventilation system, a building requirement after the rocket attacks from Iraq during the first Gulf War. He father asked a very probing question, “What is the difference in your opinion of Israel between a short visit and this longer visit?” which I’ll come back to in a later posting. We then met Gil on the Kfar Vitkin beach for a delicious lunch at the House of Fish. I am not sure what Ziv, nearly 3, makes of my Hebrew communication skills, but he is very friendly and talkative nonetheless. He played by himself while we ate, but then wanted to go down the beach to the water, so I happily obliged. About all I could say after we put our feet in the chilly water and he scooted away was “lo cham” (not hot) to which he seemed to understand and agree!
Friday, March 6, 2009
Healthy and Frugal at Purim
March 5, 2009
With Purim coming up next Tuesday, some may be seeking guidance about mishloach manot, the gift baskets that are part of the holiday. The following is from today’s Haaretz:
“Senior Sephardic rabbis issued a religious ruling calling on observant Jews to limit spending on mishloach manot, traditional gift baskets given to friends and family during the Purim holiday next week. Rabbi Ovadia Yosef and the Council of Torah Sages called on their followers to "refrain from wastefulness on sweets and precious items." The rabbis have urged their followers to be frugal in light of the economic downturn. Yesterday they suggested filling the gift baskets with foods with a longer shelf life and a higher nutritional value than candy. (Yair Ettinger)”
With Purim coming up next Tuesday, some may be seeking guidance about mishloach manot, the gift baskets that are part of the holiday. The following is from today’s Haaretz:
“Senior Sephardic rabbis issued a religious ruling calling on observant Jews to limit spending on mishloach manot, traditional gift baskets given to friends and family during the Purim holiday next week. Rabbi Ovadia Yosef and the Council of Torah Sages called on their followers to "refrain from wastefulness on sweets and precious items." The rabbis have urged their followers to be frugal in light of the economic downturn. Yesterday they suggested filling the gift baskets with foods with a longer shelf life and a higher nutritional value than candy. (Yair Ettinger)”
eJewishphilanthropy
March 4, 2009
Dan Brown is the creator of eJewishphilanthropy.com. Some years ago, he sold his marketing business in Philadelphia, earned a masters degree in nonprofit management, and after several years of increasingly longer visits to Israel, decided that here is where he wanted to live. His new web endeavor was designed with several purposes in mind: to provide a newsfeed on Jewish philanthropy; to facilitate and provide web-based learning for nonprofits, and to enable web-based networking. I encourage anybody with interests in this area to explore the website and sign up for the newsletter. We met at the Aroma Coffee Shop in the bus station for a lively two and a half hour conversation that ranged far and wide in the world of Jewish philanthropy, including how to reach the next generation, the role of UJC, and the relationships between UJC and its major partners (JAFI and JDC). I was relieved when he wasn’t able to explain to me what the World Zionist Organization actually does anymore, since its recent active role in repatriating World War II assets. I have spent much time reviewing its website to come to a similar point in my understanding. It does play a prominent, if unexplained, role in JAFI, providing half of its board member, but more on that later.
I am beginning to think in Hebrew. Before boarding the 480 for the trip back to Tel Aviv after an invigorating day, I stopped at a bakery kiosk to buy some Hamentashen for Linda.
“Shesh esrey,” said the clerk. I did not need to translate consciously. I just reached into my pocket and took out a 10 shekel, 5 shekel, and 1 shekel coin to pay the 16 shekels. As I walked away, I thought in English, “I just gave away the 1 shekel coin that I was saving to pay to use the restroom in the bus station, before getting on the bus!”
Dan Brown is the creator of eJewishphilanthropy.com. Some years ago, he sold his marketing business in Philadelphia, earned a masters degree in nonprofit management, and after several years of increasingly longer visits to Israel, decided that here is where he wanted to live. His new web endeavor was designed with several purposes in mind: to provide a newsfeed on Jewish philanthropy; to facilitate and provide web-based learning for nonprofits, and to enable web-based networking. I encourage anybody with interests in this area to explore the website and sign up for the newsletter. We met at the Aroma Coffee Shop in the bus station for a lively two and a half hour conversation that ranged far and wide in the world of Jewish philanthropy, including how to reach the next generation, the role of UJC, and the relationships between UJC and its major partners (JAFI and JDC). I was relieved when he wasn’t able to explain to me what the World Zionist Organization actually does anymore, since its recent active role in repatriating World War II assets. I have spent much time reviewing its website to come to a similar point in my understanding. It does play a prominent, if unexplained, role in JAFI, providing half of its board member, but more on that later.
I am beginning to think in Hebrew. Before boarding the 480 for the trip back to Tel Aviv after an invigorating day, I stopped at a bakery kiosk to buy some Hamentashen for Linda.
“Shesh esrey,” said the clerk. I did not need to translate consciously. I just reached into my pocket and took out a 10 shekel, 5 shekel, and 1 shekel coin to pay the 16 shekels. As I walked away, I thought in English, “I just gave away the 1 shekel coin that I was saving to pay to use the restroom in the bus station, before getting on the bus!”
The Joint
March 4, 2009
By chance, I was near the front of the rugby scrum at the door to the #480 bus for the trip to Jerusalem. Standing next to me was an elderly British couple. Anybody who has travelled to Great Britain knows that the British have perfected the practice of lining up. As the scrum started moving, the man, in a perfectly crisp British accent said, “This is not a decent queue. They are lining up all over.”
On the bus to Jerusalem to meet with Alan Gill of the American Joint Distribution Committee (the Joint), one of the primary recipients of funds from United Jewish Communities, I was thinking about the processes for allocating funds that have been contributed, whether locally or internationally. How many of you have had the privilege of serving on an allocations committee for a fundraising organization, like the Jewish Federation or the United Way? For me serving on the Allocations Committee of the Jewish Federation has been the most gratifying of the many roles I have played in the Jewish community. I think this gratification comes from four sources. First, the goal of the allocations committee is clear and compelling--the committee must make recommendations about distributing contributions and members have the opportunity to become very familiar with potential recipient organizations. Getting to know recipients means that one is very knowledgeable about where the money is going, it’s as if your own hand is directing the money. As Sydney Kimmel said at the GA in Philadelphia several years ago, Judaism is about putting one’s hand to the task. For many contributors to umbrella organizations like the Jewish Federation, the extent of their understanding of recipients is indirect, that is, they are confident that resources support many worthy projects, but they may not know exactly what. Committee members have a direct link to the recipients. Second, with the money figuratively there on the table, one is forced to examine and act on one’s values. It is morally and emotionally invigorating to articulate and act on one’s values. There is no chance to equivocate, no beating around the bush, because recommendations must be made. Third, this committee is an exhilaratingly Jewish experience because the conversations revolve around fundamental Jewish values. “Kol Yisrael areyvim ze la ze,” (all Jews are responsible, one for another) is expressed in several ways. Fundamentally, raising and allocating money is one explicit demonstration of this principle of Jewish peoplehood. There are Jews (and non-Jews) in need, so we are obliged to attend to those needs. In a narrower sense, committee members have the profound responsibility of acting on behalf of their community members, of facilitating their responsibility. Allocations are one way that we practice the mitzvah of tzedakah, the duty or obligation to attend to those in need. As it says in Deuteronomy, “If there is a needy person among you do not harden your heart and shut your hand against your needy kinsman. Rather, you must open your hand and lend him sufficient for whatever he needs…” In theological terms, we possess, but do not own the bounty of life, so we are obliged to act justly with our fellow humans. Debates, even heated debates, take place because of the respect that flows from b’tselem elohim, we are each made in the Creator’s image. The fourth reason that I am drawn to the work of allocations is that when the process works well--when the above three forces are in play—the work is fundamentally holy work. The discussions, the learning, the disagreements, arriving at consensus all weave together a holy tapestry. An outsider, a visitor from space, would look at the process and say that the Divine, the Creator, the Source is present when humans engage each other in this way.
The American Joint Distribution Committee has been an effective and influential actor in Jewish social services, since its founding in 1914, to help relieve the desperate plight of Jews of Palestine (then under Ottoman rule) and eastern Europe caught in the ravages of World War I. Ernest Eliel, of blessed memory, used to speak with love and respect for the JDC which had brought him from Germany to England, prior to the start of World War II, and then to Cuba during the war, and finally to the U.S. The lobby of the low-lying headquarters, built into a small hill directly across from the Prime Minister’s offices leaves no doubt about its mission. Arrayed along the walls, well above eye level, is a series of colorful photos of children from Ethiopia, elderly Russians, and others from the populations they serve and have served. Wrapping along the wall, under the photos, in large letters, is the Talmudic saying that “whoever saves a life, it is considered as if he saved the entire world.”
Alan Gill is the Executive Director of International Relations for the JDC-Israel. His family moved to Israel in 1992, from Columbus, Ohio where he had been executive director of the Jewish Federation. He is animated and passionate about the work of the Joint. There is so much to write about the Joint, but one issue that Alan helped to bring into focus was the ongoing dialogue (more accurately, dispute) between UJC and JAFI and JDC, its two primary partners in Israel. At the time of the merger in 2000 that created UJC out of the United Jewish Appeal and the Council of Jewish Federations, there was a commitment to maintain international funding for Israel and elsewhere. The Overseas Needs and Assessment and Distribution Committee (ONAD) was established to serve basically as a national allocations committee to review needs and make what can often be difficult funding decisions based on agreed upon criteria. The committee never really became functional and then Israeli politics came into play (more on that later), so the UJC ended up with a formula to fund JAFI and JDC, 75:25, from the overseas basic commitment that each community was expected to meet.
Tzedakah should not be distributed according to a “formula.” The legitimacy of the decisions made by an allocations committee in a Jewish context comes from the idea that committee members have articulated their values, at least to themselves and ideally to the group, and engaged each other in struggling to come to a recommendation. There is not one right answer when it comes to distributing funds that that have been raised communally. The contributions are never sufficient to meet all the compelling needs, needs that we are obliged to meet because all Israel is responsible one for another. The rightness of the answer comes from the struggle, both within oneself and within the group. It is the struggle that provides the fundamental legitimacy for the decisions. It is also the struggle that helps us to articulate the needs to recruit people to engage in the mitzvah of tzedakah. The UJC should not retreat from the challenging obligations of an allocations process. Instead we need to strengthen our commitment to the process. Formulas do not give adequate expression to our values.
In case you are wondering, yes, Alan and I discovered there is only one degree of separation between us. Although he had worked in Columbus, he grew up in a Cleveland suburb adjacent to where I lived and graduated from high school just 4 years after I. There’s more. One of his first summer jobs was working as an umpire under the supervison of Ed Paller, my former teacher whose son Daniel I had met on the Arava hike.
By chance, I was near the front of the rugby scrum at the door to the #480 bus for the trip to Jerusalem. Standing next to me was an elderly British couple. Anybody who has travelled to Great Britain knows that the British have perfected the practice of lining up. As the scrum started moving, the man, in a perfectly crisp British accent said, “This is not a decent queue. They are lining up all over.”
On the bus to Jerusalem to meet with Alan Gill of the American Joint Distribution Committee (the Joint), one of the primary recipients of funds from United Jewish Communities, I was thinking about the processes for allocating funds that have been contributed, whether locally or internationally. How many of you have had the privilege of serving on an allocations committee for a fundraising organization, like the Jewish Federation or the United Way? For me serving on the Allocations Committee of the Jewish Federation has been the most gratifying of the many roles I have played in the Jewish community. I think this gratification comes from four sources. First, the goal of the allocations committee is clear and compelling--the committee must make recommendations about distributing contributions and members have the opportunity to become very familiar with potential recipient organizations. Getting to know recipients means that one is very knowledgeable about where the money is going, it’s as if your own hand is directing the money. As Sydney Kimmel said at the GA in Philadelphia several years ago, Judaism is about putting one’s hand to the task. For many contributors to umbrella organizations like the Jewish Federation, the extent of their understanding of recipients is indirect, that is, they are confident that resources support many worthy projects, but they may not know exactly what. Committee members have a direct link to the recipients. Second, with the money figuratively there on the table, one is forced to examine and act on one’s values. It is morally and emotionally invigorating to articulate and act on one’s values. There is no chance to equivocate, no beating around the bush, because recommendations must be made. Third, this committee is an exhilaratingly Jewish experience because the conversations revolve around fundamental Jewish values. “Kol Yisrael areyvim ze la ze,” (all Jews are responsible, one for another) is expressed in several ways. Fundamentally, raising and allocating money is one explicit demonstration of this principle of Jewish peoplehood. There are Jews (and non-Jews) in need, so we are obliged to attend to those needs. In a narrower sense, committee members have the profound responsibility of acting on behalf of their community members, of facilitating their responsibility. Allocations are one way that we practice the mitzvah of tzedakah, the duty or obligation to attend to those in need. As it says in Deuteronomy, “If there is a needy person among you do not harden your heart and shut your hand against your needy kinsman. Rather, you must open your hand and lend him sufficient for whatever he needs…” In theological terms, we possess, but do not own the bounty of life, so we are obliged to act justly with our fellow humans. Debates, even heated debates, take place because of the respect that flows from b’tselem elohim, we are each made in the Creator’s image. The fourth reason that I am drawn to the work of allocations is that when the process works well--when the above three forces are in play—the work is fundamentally holy work. The discussions, the learning, the disagreements, arriving at consensus all weave together a holy tapestry. An outsider, a visitor from space, would look at the process and say that the Divine, the Creator, the Source is present when humans engage each other in this way.
The American Joint Distribution Committee has been an effective and influential actor in Jewish social services, since its founding in 1914, to help relieve the desperate plight of Jews of Palestine (then under Ottoman rule) and eastern Europe caught in the ravages of World War I. Ernest Eliel, of blessed memory, used to speak with love and respect for the JDC which had brought him from Germany to England, prior to the start of World War II, and then to Cuba during the war, and finally to the U.S. The lobby of the low-lying headquarters, built into a small hill directly across from the Prime Minister’s offices leaves no doubt about its mission. Arrayed along the walls, well above eye level, is a series of colorful photos of children from Ethiopia, elderly Russians, and others from the populations they serve and have served. Wrapping along the wall, under the photos, in large letters, is the Talmudic saying that “whoever saves a life, it is considered as if he saved the entire world.”
Alan Gill is the Executive Director of International Relations for the JDC-Israel. His family moved to Israel in 1992, from Columbus, Ohio where he had been executive director of the Jewish Federation. He is animated and passionate about the work of the Joint. There is so much to write about the Joint, but one issue that Alan helped to bring into focus was the ongoing dialogue (more accurately, dispute) between UJC and JAFI and JDC, its two primary partners in Israel. At the time of the merger in 2000 that created UJC out of the United Jewish Appeal and the Council of Jewish Federations, there was a commitment to maintain international funding for Israel and elsewhere. The Overseas Needs and Assessment and Distribution Committee (ONAD) was established to serve basically as a national allocations committee to review needs and make what can often be difficult funding decisions based on agreed upon criteria. The committee never really became functional and then Israeli politics came into play (more on that later), so the UJC ended up with a formula to fund JAFI and JDC, 75:25, from the overseas basic commitment that each community was expected to meet.
Tzedakah should not be distributed according to a “formula.” The legitimacy of the decisions made by an allocations committee in a Jewish context comes from the idea that committee members have articulated their values, at least to themselves and ideally to the group, and engaged each other in struggling to come to a recommendation. There is not one right answer when it comes to distributing funds that that have been raised communally. The contributions are never sufficient to meet all the compelling needs, needs that we are obliged to meet because all Israel is responsible one for another. The rightness of the answer comes from the struggle, both within oneself and within the group. It is the struggle that provides the fundamental legitimacy for the decisions. It is also the struggle that helps us to articulate the needs to recruit people to engage in the mitzvah of tzedakah. The UJC should not retreat from the challenging obligations of an allocations process. Instead we need to strengthen our commitment to the process. Formulas do not give adequate expression to our values.
In case you are wondering, yes, Alan and I discovered there is only one degree of separation between us. Although he had worked in Columbus, he grew up in a Cleveland suburb adjacent to where I lived and graduated from high school just 4 years after I. There’s more. One of his first summer jobs was working as an umpire under the supervison of Ed Paller, my former teacher whose son Daniel I had met on the Arava hike.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Some Demographics
March 3, 2009
One of the most noticeable sights in Israel is the prevalence of young men and women soldiers, many of them with their service rifles strapped over their backs. Where we in the U.S. have workers with briefcases or laptops waiting at train stations, in Israel there are soldiers with their weapons. The train station at Tel Aviv University is always crowded at about 8 a.m., when I am heading to Bet Yohoshua, but on Sundays, it is so crowded that often there are not enough seats on the train. The reason is that soldiers are returning to their bases after Shabbat. In Israel’s citizen army, training takes place during the week and then many soldiers return to their family homes for Shabbat and holidays. This ritual is so ingrained that there are several programs to provide “homes” for soldiers from the U.S., Europe, or elsewhere who do not have families in Israel with which to stay. There must be some type of rotation so that the entire army is not at home on Shabbat.
When young men and women turn 18, they enter the army for 3 and 2 years, respectively. Deferments are becoming a source of concern, however. Last year, 25.8% of men and 44% of women did not enlist. According to the IDF the percentage of men claiming draft deferments to study in a yeshiva (an Orthodox school) rose from 4.9% in 1991, to 10.9% last year and is expected to rise to 11.8% by 2012. The percentage of women claiming exemptions rose from 21.3% to 34.6% last year. These percentages are increasing because the birthrate among the Orthodox community is higher than the secular rate of 2-3 births per woman. Arab fertility rates have continued to decline from over 9 births in the 1960s to 3.6 in 2006.
In order for women to receive an exemption, all they need to do is sign a declaration. The high rate of exemptions prompted the IDF to hire private investigators to tail girls suspected of falsifying their claims, uncovering over 500 who were photographed kissing men or violating the Sabbath, behaviors that undermine a claim of Orthodox belief.
Why are these figures a concern? Not the kissing men, but the increase in deferments. Israel is a small country. In 2008 there were only 117,000 Jewish births and 39,000 Arab births. Arabs do not serve in the IDF. There must be enough enlistees out of each cohort to sustain the IDF as an effective force in defense of Israel. A second concern is that the IDF has long been the major pathway into adult Israeli society, an important homogenizing and skill-building force in a country of immigrants. This is why there has been increasing discussion of the need for some type of mandatory national service for Jews and Arabs, to provide opportunities for entrée into adult society, when the military is not an option. This proposal has sparked opposition and protest among the Arab population where many are ambivalent, if not outright opposed, to the idea of supporting an Israeli state. On the other hand, the presence of a single primary pathway, i.e., the IDF, that officially excludes Arabs cannot enhance the sense of belonging among the Arab community, which constitutes about 20% of the population of Israel.
One of the most noticeable sights in Israel is the prevalence of young men and women soldiers, many of them with their service rifles strapped over their backs. Where we in the U.S. have workers with briefcases or laptops waiting at train stations, in Israel there are soldiers with their weapons. The train station at Tel Aviv University is always crowded at about 8 a.m., when I am heading to Bet Yohoshua, but on Sundays, it is so crowded that often there are not enough seats on the train. The reason is that soldiers are returning to their bases after Shabbat. In Israel’s citizen army, training takes place during the week and then many soldiers return to their family homes for Shabbat and holidays. This ritual is so ingrained that there are several programs to provide “homes” for soldiers from the U.S., Europe, or elsewhere who do not have families in Israel with which to stay. There must be some type of rotation so that the entire army is not at home on Shabbat.
When young men and women turn 18, they enter the army for 3 and 2 years, respectively. Deferments are becoming a source of concern, however. Last year, 25.8% of men and 44% of women did not enlist. According to the IDF the percentage of men claiming draft deferments to study in a yeshiva (an Orthodox school) rose from 4.9% in 1991, to 10.9% last year and is expected to rise to 11.8% by 2012. The percentage of women claiming exemptions rose from 21.3% to 34.6% last year. These percentages are increasing because the birthrate among the Orthodox community is higher than the secular rate of 2-3 births per woman. Arab fertility rates have continued to decline from over 9 births in the 1960s to 3.6 in 2006.
In order for women to receive an exemption, all they need to do is sign a declaration. The high rate of exemptions prompted the IDF to hire private investigators to tail girls suspected of falsifying their claims, uncovering over 500 who were photographed kissing men or violating the Sabbath, behaviors that undermine a claim of Orthodox belief.
Why are these figures a concern? Not the kissing men, but the increase in deferments. Israel is a small country. In 2008 there were only 117,000 Jewish births and 39,000 Arab births. Arabs do not serve in the IDF. There must be enough enlistees out of each cohort to sustain the IDF as an effective force in defense of Israel. A second concern is that the IDF has long been the major pathway into adult Israeli society, an important homogenizing and skill-building force in a country of immigrants. This is why there has been increasing discussion of the need for some type of mandatory national service for Jews and Arabs, to provide opportunities for entrée into adult society, when the military is not an option. This proposal has sparked opposition and protest among the Arab population where many are ambivalent, if not outright opposed, to the idea of supporting an Israeli state. On the other hand, the presence of a single primary pathway, i.e., the IDF, that officially excludes Arabs cannot enhance the sense of belonging among the Arab community, which constitutes about 20% of the population of Israel.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Chips Gadol
March 2, 2009
O.K., I admit it. For the first time in more than 7 years I have had a Big Mac. Even though “McDonaldsization” is one particular aspect of globalization that is dismaying to me, I just wanted to try a Big Mac here in the Holy Land. I finished an appointment near Dizengoff Center, so I went to the McDonalds on the third floor of this sprawling shopping mall that covers two buildings attached by walkways over Rehov Dizengoff. I felt like I was in any McDonalds that I had ever visited, including a disproportionate number of overweight people, especially distinctive for Israel, where there seems to be an interest in fitness, with obesity not nearly as common as in the U.S. In fact, there were only two noticeable differences between this McDonalds and any other one I have ever been in. First, everybody was speaking Hebrew, not McDonalds Hebrew, such as “fries” or “chocolate shake” in phonetic Hebrew, but Hebrew. The posted menu had nary a word of English, but the pictures were all familiar, or at least roughly familiar, given that I have not frequented too many in the past 7 years. There was one exception to the Hebrew. There, above a picture of the sandwich I was curious to try, were the Hebrew letters, “bet” “gimmel” and then “mem” “kof,” Big Mac! The second difference was that everybody seemed to be arguing with the attendants. The woman next to me spent at least 5 minutes discussing the various premiums that come with a happy meal with an exchange back and forth of 5 or 6 10 argurot coins (each worth about 2 cents to give you an idea of the magnitude of the issues under dispute). After I confidently placed my order in Hebrew—Big Mac—I am sure that the attendant said, “do you want fries with that?” When she saw my puzzled look, I did hear “chips gadol?” (big chips as they say for fries), but I declined with a confident, "lo" for no. In case you are curious, I have no desire to try another Big Mac either here or elsewhere.
O.K., I admit it. For the first time in more than 7 years I have had a Big Mac. Even though “McDonaldsization” is one particular aspect of globalization that is dismaying to me, I just wanted to try a Big Mac here in the Holy Land. I finished an appointment near Dizengoff Center, so I went to the McDonalds on the third floor of this sprawling shopping mall that covers two buildings attached by walkways over Rehov Dizengoff. I felt like I was in any McDonalds that I had ever visited, including a disproportionate number of overweight people, especially distinctive for Israel, where there seems to be an interest in fitness, with obesity not nearly as common as in the U.S. In fact, there were only two noticeable differences between this McDonalds and any other one I have ever been in. First, everybody was speaking Hebrew, not McDonalds Hebrew, such as “fries” or “chocolate shake” in phonetic Hebrew, but Hebrew. The posted menu had nary a word of English, but the pictures were all familiar, or at least roughly familiar, given that I have not frequented too many in the past 7 years. There was one exception to the Hebrew. There, above a picture of the sandwich I was curious to try, were the Hebrew letters, “bet” “gimmel” and then “mem” “kof,” Big Mac! The second difference was that everybody seemed to be arguing with the attendants. The woman next to me spent at least 5 minutes discussing the various premiums that come with a happy meal with an exchange back and forth of 5 or 6 10 argurot coins (each worth about 2 cents to give you an idea of the magnitude of the issues under dispute). After I confidently placed my order in Hebrew—Big Mac—I am sure that the attendant said, “do you want fries with that?” When she saw my puzzled look, I did hear “chips gadol?” (big chips as they say for fries), but I declined with a confident, "lo" for no. In case you are curious, I have no desire to try another Big Mac either here or elsewhere.
Reut Institute
March 1, 2009
I met with Netaly, a manager at the The Reut Institute (http://www.reut-institute.org), for a lively one hour discussion of the unique contributions of this young organization founded in 2004 by Gidi Grinstein. He had served as the Secretary and Coordinator for the Israeli negotiating team during the 2000 negotiations between Israel and the Palestinian Authority. He realized that policymakers too often do not know how to ask the right questions, that is, they don’t know what they don’t know, so they don’t know what to ask. Building on the work of PRAXIS, Reut examines the premises or assumptions and reframes questions or issues so as to help avoid strategic surprises. It sounds quite similar to Facilitative Leadership by Roger Schwarz. The Institute is a training center where all of the “exams” have real-life consequences, because they are working with government clients. The training portion, with a curriculum on personal leadership, group leadership, technical skills, and Jewish/Zionist history and ethics, lasts 18 months and most analysts stay for 2 or 3 years. The goal is to place people trained in these techniques in positions to assist government ministers and eventually to have these techniques as common practice in ministries. The staff is young and energetic, unlike the typical think tank where experts think great thoughts, write books, and often answer questions that policy makers don’t have. The website said that the shortest turnaround on a project was 60 hours!
What motivated my visit to Reut was the series of blog posts last March by Gidi Grinstein, entitled Diaspora and Jewish Philanthropy in Israel: Overhaul or Be Marginalized. He first came to my attention with a short column in the JTA (Jewish Telegraphic Agency) late in 2007. When I began to explore seriously the idea of coming to Israel, I recalled the column and then learned that he had subsequently written a series of blog posts. I recommend this document to anyone with interests in Jewish philanthropy in general and Diaspora philanthropy in Israel in particular. In fact, I don’t just recommend it. It should be required reading. The theme of these provocative and well-written posts is that financial contributions from abroad, approximately $1 billion annually (prior to the economic and Madoff meltdowns), have become a small and shrinking resource for a country that has a GDP of greater than $160 billion. There are two primary conclusions. First and foremost, Diaspora donors, whether communities or individuals, need to be more strategic in their contributions. They need to look at the needs, set priorities, and measure the impacts. $1 billion spent strategically can have far greater effects than many current approaches. Related to this is the important question of what should the government be doing, what can it do, and how do those responsibilities interact with donors and organizations? For example, I am still curious why the government needed the U.S. Jewish community to provide $10 million to provide basic trauma relief services during the Gaza operation. Such services would seem to be a fundamental governmental obligation. Second, the now substantial resources of Israel herself need to be part of the equation of community-building. Israel has a vibrant economy that has created much wealth. Granted, the security needs are disproportionate, but it is important to collaborate in ways far different than the past when Israel was struggling to build a new nation.
I met with Netaly, a manager at the The Reut Institute (http://www.reut-institute.org), for a lively one hour discussion of the unique contributions of this young organization founded in 2004 by Gidi Grinstein. He had served as the Secretary and Coordinator for the Israeli negotiating team during the 2000 negotiations between Israel and the Palestinian Authority. He realized that policymakers too often do not know how to ask the right questions, that is, they don’t know what they don’t know, so they don’t know what to ask. Building on the work of PRAXIS, Reut examines the premises or assumptions and reframes questions or issues so as to help avoid strategic surprises. It sounds quite similar to Facilitative Leadership by Roger Schwarz. The Institute is a training center where all of the “exams” have real-life consequences, because they are working with government clients. The training portion, with a curriculum on personal leadership, group leadership, technical skills, and Jewish/Zionist history and ethics, lasts 18 months and most analysts stay for 2 or 3 years. The goal is to place people trained in these techniques in positions to assist government ministers and eventually to have these techniques as common practice in ministries. The staff is young and energetic, unlike the typical think tank where experts think great thoughts, write books, and often answer questions that policy makers don’t have. The website said that the shortest turnaround on a project was 60 hours!
What motivated my visit to Reut was the series of blog posts last March by Gidi Grinstein, entitled Diaspora and Jewish Philanthropy in Israel: Overhaul or Be Marginalized. He first came to my attention with a short column in the JTA (Jewish Telegraphic Agency) late in 2007. When I began to explore seriously the idea of coming to Israel, I recalled the column and then learned that he had subsequently written a series of blog posts. I recommend this document to anyone with interests in Jewish philanthropy in general and Diaspora philanthropy in Israel in particular. In fact, I don’t just recommend it. It should be required reading. The theme of these provocative and well-written posts is that financial contributions from abroad, approximately $1 billion annually (prior to the economic and Madoff meltdowns), have become a small and shrinking resource for a country that has a GDP of greater than $160 billion. There are two primary conclusions. First and foremost, Diaspora donors, whether communities or individuals, need to be more strategic in their contributions. They need to look at the needs, set priorities, and measure the impacts. $1 billion spent strategically can have far greater effects than many current approaches. Related to this is the important question of what should the government be doing, what can it do, and how do those responsibilities interact with donors and organizations? For example, I am still curious why the government needed the U.S. Jewish community to provide $10 million to provide basic trauma relief services during the Gaza operation. Such services would seem to be a fundamental governmental obligation. Second, the now substantial resources of Israel herself need to be part of the equation of community-building. Israel has a vibrant economy that has created much wealth. Granted, the security needs are disproportionate, but it is important to collaborate in ways far different than the past when Israel was struggling to build a new nation.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)