Miền Đất Hứa Của Tôi - Khải Hoàn Và Bi Kịch Của Israel

by Ari Shavit (Kiều Thị Thu Hương dịch), Võ Minh Tuấn (hiệu đính)

Miền đất hứa của tôi là cuộc phiêu lưu cá nhân của một người Israel, băn khoăn trước ngập tràn biến cố lịch sử trên quê hương mình. Đây là một hành trình vượt không gian và thời gian của một người sinh ra tại Israel, nhằm khám phá câu chuyện đại sự của dân tộc mình. Thông qua lịch sử gia đình, lịch sử cá nhân và các bài phỏng vấn sâu, Shavit đã cố gắng tiếp cận câu chuyện sâu xa hơn và những câu hỏi sâu sắc hơn về Israel, về sự định hình tương lai của người Do Thái.

Đây là một trong những cuốn sách quan trọng và có tác động mạnh mà Ari Shavit viết nhằm phục hồi cảm giác về thực tính của Israel và say sưa với nó, để khôi phục lại sự hùng vĩ của một thực tế đơn giản trong cái nhìn đầy đủ về các sự kiện phức tạp. Miền đất hứa của tôi gây ngạc nhiên về nhiều mặt, nhất là việc nó tương đối ít chú trọng tới việc cung cấp cho người đọc các thông tin về chính trị. Shavit, nhà bình luận trong ban biên tập của Haaretz, có một tư duy độc lập, không bị ảnh hưởng bởi bất kỳ học thuyết nào. Ông viết không để ca ngợi hay đổ lỗi, dù trong quá trình ấy ông đã làm cả hai điều này, thay vào đó, với sự uyên bác và tài hùng biện; ông viết để quan sát và phản ánh.

Đây là cuốn sách ít thiên vị nhất về Israel. Một cuốn sách Phục quốc Do Thái nhưng không bị kích động bởi chủ nghĩa phục quốc. Nó nói về toàn thể trải nghiệm Israel. Shavit đắm mình trong toàn bộ lịch sử của đất nước mình. Dù một số sự kiện trong đó làm ông tổn thương, song không gì là xa lạ đối với ông. Ông đã viết một chương xuất sắc về chính trị gia tham nhũng nhưng đầy sức hút, Aryeh Deri, và sự trỗi dậy trên chính trường của tôn giáo dòng Sephardi tại Israel, qua đó minh họa rõ nét tầm hiểu biết của mình.

Tuy nhiên thật may đây không phải là một cuốn hồi ký; nó là một cuộc điều tra được viết với văn phong gần gũi. Shavit khám phá xã hội của ông với sự tỉ mỉ của một người đàn ông cảm thấy bản thân mình gắn với số phận của nó, và ông không ngần ngại nói về sự tan rã của nước cộng hòa Israel trong những năm gần đây.

Theo quan sát của ông “Trong vòng chưa đầy 30 năm, Israel đã trải qua bảy cuộc nổi loạn trong nước khác nhau: cuộc nổi dậy của người định cư, các cuộc nổi dậy hòa bình, cuộc nổi dậy vì tự do tư pháp, cuộc nổi dậy phương Đông, cuộc nổi dậy của dòng Chính thống cực đoan, cuộc nổi dậy của chủ nghĩa khoái lạc cá nhân và cuộc nổi dậy của người Israel gốc Palestine.” Ông lo lắng, có lẽ có phần hơi quá, rằng đất nước ông đang tan rã: “Quốc gia khởi nghiệp này phải tự khởi động lại”. Chắc chắn là không có tình tiết giảm nhẹ nào cho sự bất bình đẳng kinh tế và xã hội mà ông mô tả, hoặc những xáo trộn hoàn toàn các chính sách định cư trong vùng lãnh thổ mà Israel có một mối quan tâm khẩn cấp và lâu dài trong việc di tản.

Nhưng những lời khuyên và khích lệ của Shavit rằng “luận điểm cũ về nghĩa vụ và sự cam kết đã được thay thế bằng một luận điểm mới về sự phản kháng và chủ nghĩa khoái lạc”, và “thách thức trước mắt là thách thức giành lại quyền lực quốc gia”, là u ám và khắc nghiệt hơn so với giọng văn đầy nhiệt huyết và phóng khoáng trong cuốn sách. Và khái niệm “quyền lực quốc gia” thì đi kèm với những mối liên hệ không mấy hấp dẫn. Vùng đất hỗn loạn và ồn ào trong Miền đất hứa của tôi sẽ không thể được chữa lành chỉ với những cố gắng đơn thuần để đưa nó trở lại bình thường như trước đây.

Genres: History, Nonfiction, Israel, Middle East, Politics, Jewish, Memoir

554 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 2013

Reviews

[Lisa Lieberman · Rating 4 out of 5]

Where you’re standing makes a big difference in how you feel about Ari Shavit’s book. I started My Promised Land five months ago, during the tenuous cease-fire following last summer’s conflict between Israel and Hamas in Gaza. What struck me most forcefully, then, was the willful blindness of Zionist pioneers such as Shavit’s great-grandfather, Herbert Bentwich, who came to Palestine from Britain in the 1890s full of hope, intent on creating a sanctuary for Europe’s Jews regardless of the consequences for the land’s existing inhabitants.

Despite the idealism, hard work, and heroism that characterized the founding generation—the Kibbutz-builders, the orange-growers, the ardent young people dancing by firelight in the desert—it all came down to displacement. Shavit was telling the story of how the blindness of Israel’s founding generation played out through statehood and beyond, through the many wars and the rare peaceful lulls when the nation grew and prospered. The “erasure” (his word) of Palestinian villages such as Lydda, the forced emigration of hundreds of thousands of Palestinians, the settlers’ fanaticism, the racism and injustice at the core of the “revolution” (his word) that forged a sovereign state where only Jews (and predominantly Ashkenazim) enjoy full rights and myriad opportunities for education and economic advancement: this seemed to be the story he was telling.

I knew that story all too well. As a liberal-minded American Jew and as a modern French historian interested in the postwar era, I’ve thought long and hard about Israel’s place in the world, from the anti-Semitism that sparked the Zionist vision, the nationalism that shaped it, the social engineering characteristic of left-wing utopian ideologies that defined its spirit for decades, to the Holocaust trauma so often employed by its defenders (among them my teachers in religious school) as sufficient justification for anything Israel did.

In an essay I published during the second intifada (which happened to come out right after 9/11), I laid bare the contradictions I felt in commenting publicly, as a Jew, on Israel’s actions. I’ve subsequently written on the Tunisian Jewish writer Albert Memmi’s troubling about-face regarding French decolonization and on the moral cost of France’s Dirty War in Algeria. I’ve advocated for peace and justice for both sides of the Israel/Palestine conflict for most of my adult life, although I’ve despaired in recent years, I will admit.

My Promised Land wasn’t challenging my views, and that’s probably why I set it aside, halfway through. Sure, Shavit told the story nicely, but I’d rather use my serious reading time to prod myself, or to learn something new. If I had finished the book in September, I probably would have been disappointed by the ending, because Shavit winds up doing an about-face of his own. “We probably had to come,” he writes. “And when we came here, we performed wonders. For better or worse, we did the unimaginable.” It takes blindness and fanaticism to create a miracle and sustain it against the various crises Israel has confronted and continues to endure, he argues, the external threats to its very existence, the internal disunity, inequality, and corruption that undermine the state’s moral foundation. Not to mention the terrorist threat posed by Islamic radicals both within and outside of Israel’s borders.

Ah, I would have said to myself in September. I’ve heard that complaint before. French critics of the war their government was waging against Algerian terrorists in the 1950s worried more about their nation’s soul, it often seemed, than about the actual suffering of the Algerians. And how about that nostalgia for the boy and girl pioneers, the plucky orange growers, the self-abnegating kibbutzniks? Shavit exposes the denial that even “bleeding-heart Israeli liberals” (his words) resort to for what it is, the disingenuousness of expressing outrage at the injustices faced by present-day Palestinians while failing to address the consequences of the 1948 Palestinian exodus, (the catastrophe, or Nakba, as Palestinians call it). He himself will not deny the “brutal deed” (his term), but nor will he beat his breast in anguish to salve his conscience. Without the Nakba, after all, he would not exist.

Last Tuesday I was on my way to Puerto Rico for a vacation and there was My Promised Land, beckoning from the home screen of my Kindle. I resumed reading it on the plane, kept with it this time, even taking it along to the beach. When the Charlie Hebdo massacre occurred, I found myself reacting to Shavit’s story in an entirely different way. He is no apologist for Israel’s past, although he admires the miracle of his nation’s founding, “the élan vital of a young nation fighting adamantly while believing that its will to live would overcome the death surrounding it.” (I told you he writes well.) He is dismayed by present-day Israeli society, seeing the hedonism and materialism of the elite, and of the young in particular, as a betrayal of Zionist values. A failure of will. Almost despite himself, he admires the vitality and ingenuity of the modern capitalist state. After all, “Zionism was about regenerating Jewish vitality,” he grudgingly admits.

What gripped me, though, was Shavit’s pessimism about the future. The chickens are coming home to roost.

As I look out at the land Herbert Bentwich left behind in the end of April 1897, I wonder how long we can maintain our miraculous survival story. One more generation? Two? Three? Eventually the hand holding the sword itself must loosen its grip. Eventually the sword itself will rust. No nation can face the world surrounding it for over a hundred years with a jutting spear.

Sitting on the beach in Puerto Rico while French authorities hunted for the murderers, with the news full of reports about Muslim anger at the West, Shavit’s final question hit a nerve. “How long can we sustain this lunacy?”

[Orsodimondo · Rating 4 out of 5]

LA VITA IN BILICO


Palestina, la terra promessa, 1930.

Ari Shavit, nato nel 1957, è israeliano di terza generazione. Fu paracadutista nei territori occupati durante la naja, attivista del movimento pacifista, scrive per Haaretz (che qualcuno definisce l’unico quotidiano palestinese in lingua ebraica), collabora col New Yorker, e con questo libro ha deciso di sfidare i dogmi di destra e sinistra.
Non è un libro di storia in senso accademico, dice Ari Shavit, (e quelli in uso nelle scuole d’Israele andrebbero riscritti, dico io), ma un viaggio personale nel passato e nel presente di Israele: attraverso il racconto di decine di storie di singoli israeliani, cerca di narrare la storia del paese. Infatti, comincia nel 1897 dall’arrivo di un gruppo di sionisti in Palestina, tra i quali il suo bisnonno, Herbert Bentwich.

Per raccontare le storie dei singoli, e quella più in grande d’Israele, Shavit ha letto e studiato documenti di famiglia, sua e di tante altre, appunti di viaggio, articoli di giornali e riviste, ha fatto interviste, incontrato persone passando anche tre giorni di seguito ad ascoltarne i racconti, ha consultato archivi, ascoltato registrazioni, studiato migliaia di documenti e letto centinaia di libri. Ha cercato di raccontare la Storia del suo paese attraverso le singole storie di alcuni dei suoi abitanti, tramite un rigoroso processo di raccolta dei dati e di verifica dei fatti.
Per arrivare a un libro fatto di persone. È la storia d’Israele vista da singoli israeliani, come lo sono io, conclude Shavit.


Beno Rothenberg: Deporting the women of al-Tantura, 1948.

Un libro bello, che racconta la storia di un paese per me oltremodo affascinante. Un paese con ombre, tante, tantissime, e luci, anche molte luci, tante.
Lo Stato ebraico non assomiglia a nessun’altra nazione. Non ha da offrire né sicurezza, né benessere, né pace mentale, ma l’intensità di vivere sempre all’estremo.
Israele è l’unica nazione occidentale che occupa il territorio di un altro popolo. Ed è anche l’unico Stato occidentale la cui stessa esistenza sia minacciata.
Non c’è niente di facile quando si parla d’Israele e sionismo: Shavit riesce a scrivere fuori da ogni propaganda, sa raccontare sia il miracolo che le colpe.

In modo singolare Shavit decide di dedicare poco tempo e spazio alle guerre, a parte quella cosiddetta d’indipendenza, quella del 1948 subito successiva al termine del Mandato inglese, e che portò alla nascita dello Stato d’Israele.
E proprio questo momento cruciale è anche quello dove la sua narrazione mi convince meno, secondo me s’incrina.


Robert Capa: Haifa, Arriving Immigrants, 1949-50.

Mi chiedo come il sionismo possa essere stato quella forza positiva, bella, pacifica, rivoluzionaria, egualitaria, con venature di puro socialismo, come la descrive Shavit, se già dagli anni Venti esisteva l’organizzazione paramilitare Haganah (dopo il 1948 integrata nelle forze armate israeliane). Com’è possibile che la mutazione sia avvenuta nel giro di pochi mesi a ridosso del fatidico 1948, se ben prima che gli inglesi abbandonassero la Palestina esistevano già liste di obiettivi e nemici arabi da eliminare (ma Shavit non ne parla).
Shavit la presenta come una trasformazione inevitabile: di fronte alla violenza araba, i sionisti risposero con pari violenza. Secondo altri, invece, e sono altri ben più storici di Shavit, violenza araba ci fu proprio in risposta a quella sionista, e mai della stessa consistenza.


Micha Bar-Am, 1930.

La sensazione finale, quella predominante, è che il racconto di Shavit si condensi in un’autoassoluzione fondata sulla tragicità assoluta dell’essere, sul fatto che i due popoli entrambi legittimamente aspiranti alla terra non abbiano altra via percorribile oltre quella di un conflitto atavico ed eterno.
Sensazione più che suffragata da simili asserzione di Shavit:
Forse questa molteplice rimozione era necessaria, altrimenti sarebbe stato impossibile andare avanti, costruire, vivere. Perché il sionismo avesse successo, nei primi decenni del XX secolo era stata necessaria un’ostinata indifferenza. Ora, perché Israele avesse successo nei suoi primi dieci anni di vita, era essenziale una mancanza di consapevolezza. Se Israele avesse ammesso ciò che era accaduto non sarebbe sopravvissuto. Se fosse stato accomodante e compassionevole, sarebbe crollato. Nel giovane Paese in cui sono nato, negare era questione di vita o di morte.


Dalia Amotz.

Viene da chiedersi se proprio adesso che il resto del mondo è distratto, concentrato su altri punti caldi del pianeta, se proprio adesso che la questione mediorientale ha altre nazioni sotto i riflettori (Siria in primis), se non potrebbe essere proprio ora che uno spiraglio sia apribile, per Palestinesi e Israeliani, per negoziare direttamente tra loro un modus vivendi.
E magari cominciare a pensare ad alternative anche alla soluzione dei due Stati, come per esempio uno Stato solo, nel quale convivere in uguaglianza e parità.

Israele negli anni Cinquanta era uno Stato sotto anabolizzanti: sempre più persone, sempre più città, sempre più villaggi, sempre più di tutto. E malgrado una crescita vertiginosa, le differenze sociali erano quasi inesistenti. Il governo si impegnava affinché tutti potessero lavorare e ogni cittadino avesse una casa, lavoro, istruzione e assistenza sanitaria. Il nuovo Stato era uno dei più democratici al mondo. Tuttavia, Israele era anche una nazione pragmatica e capace di combinare modernità, nazionalismo e sviluppo in modo aggressivo. Non c’era tempo né serenità, pertanto mancava anche ogni tipo di sensibilità umana. Mentre lo Stato diventava l’unica cosa importante, l’individuo veniva emarginato. Mentre marciava verso il proprio futuro, Israele cancellava il passato. Non c’era più spazio per il vecchio territorio, né le precedenti identità. Tutto era fatto en masse. Tutto era imposto dall’alto. E tutto aveva un che di artificiale. Il sionismo non era più un processo organico, ma un golpe degno di un’avanguardia futurista…Non c’era spazio per i diritti umani, diritti civili, processi regolari e liberismo economico. Nessuna parità per la minoranza palestinese, nessuna pietà per i suoi profughi. Poco rispetto per la diaspora ebraica e poca compassione per i sopravvissuti alla Shoah.


La fortezza Masada.

1957, undici anni dopo la fondazione dello Stato d’Israele: Israele è ora la nazione più stabile e più avanzata del medio Oriente. È il melting pot più straordinario del XX secolo. Lo Stato ebraico è un miracolo compiuto dalle mani dell’uomo. Certo, tale miracolo è fondato sulla rimozione. La nazione in cui sono nato ha cancellato la Palestina dalla faccia del pianeta. Ne ha raso al suolo i villaggi con i bulldozer, ne ha confiscato la terra con i mandati, ha revocato ai suoi abitanti il diritto di cittadinanza, annientando la loro patria. Israele ha rimosso la Palestina. All’epoca della mia nascita, i miei nonni, i miei genitori e i loro amici vivono le loro vite come se l’altro popolo non fosse mai esistito.


Stella di Davide.

[Jan Rice · Rating 4 out of 5]

To begin my review of My Promised Land, I decided to talk some cognitive psychology:

It is the consistency of the information that matters for a good story, not its completeness. Indeed, you will often find that knowing little makes it easier to fit everything you know into a coherent pattern. Thinking, Fast and Slow, p. 87

Narrative fallacies arise inevitably from our continuous attempt to make sense of the world. The explanatory stories that people find compelling are simple; are concrete rather than abstract; assign a larger role to talent, stupidity, and intentions than to luck; and focus on a few striking events that happened rather than on the countless events that failed to happen. Any recent salient event is a candidate to become a kernel of a causal narrative. ...

Good stories provide a simple and coherent account of people's actions and intentions. You are always ready to interpret behavior as a manifestation of general propensities and personality traits--causes that you can readily match to effects. ... The halo effect helps keep explanatory narratives simple and coherent by exaggerating the consistency of evaluations: good people do only good things and bad people do only bad. ...

Paradoxically, it is easier to construct a coherent story when you know little, when there are fewer pieces to fit into the puzzle. Our comforting conviction that the world makes sense rests on a secure foundation: our almost unlimited ability to ignore our ignorance. T,F&S, pp. 199-201

I've started with quotes from the Nobel laureate and 2013 Presidential Medal of Freedom winning psychologist Daniel Kahneman since people have so many and often such diametrically opposed stories about Israel. The psychology points out how that can be.

When it comes to Israel, people are polarized. On the whole if we have a story we are comfortable with, we resist messing with it. On the whole people seek to confirm what we already believe. But Ari Shavit's book doesn't fit well within a simplistic story. There's just too much, too many stories, too many points of view, to do that. That's the main value of this book. Moreover the people and places come across vividly.

Ari Shavit is a left-of-center Israeli journalist for Haaretz who's telling his family story intertwined with a multiplicity of other Israeli stories. His great-grandfather, "a romantic, a Jew, and a Victorian gentleman," toured Palestine in 1897 and then emigrated from England, followed by most of his family. That story is followed by personalities and situations from before the world wars all the way up to the present day and Obama and Iran.

I think the book comes across even-handed. But that's probably because I lean to the Left as Shavit does. Similarly, he greatly pleases Leon Wieseltier. Elliott Abrams, perhaps predictably, less so. I wish I could link to his article in the spring 2014 issue of Jewish Review of Books, but it's locked. He thinks Shavit occasionally indulges in over-confessing, beyond what the facts support, I mean, and then adopts a tragic-hero posture about that. Abrams did raise some new facts. For example, not all the Arabs had been on the land for generations, as the story goes. Some had come recently from other parts of the Middle East, for instance, when the Jewish immigrants got the citrus-growing industry started and had good jobs and improved living standards to offer. Quoting the revisionist Israeli historian Benny Morris, Abrams also thought Shavit over-simplified the Lydda episode during the 1948 war of independence--the excerpt published in the Oct. 21, 2013 New Yorker. Shavit portrays those events as a premeditated expulsion and killings, and he then places that episode at the heart of Israel's existential status, while for Morris they were part of what was, at the time, a civil war, with outside aid for the Palestinians (presumably) coming from their Arab brothers. It was three years after the Holocaust, and a war for survival for the Israelis that would have been a "vast slaughter" had they lost.

What did I learn that was new? This was the first time I heard the peasants on the land referred to as "serfs." And I think that's right. There were wealthy Ottoman owners, their estates, and their serfs. I did not know that the Jews in Israel are majority Sephardi, that is, Jews from Arab lands. That means not "white." That'll mess with some narratives. I heard the term "White Ashkenazi Supporters of Peace" (WASPs!) used for the first time. I learned a lot about Israel's nuclear status--all that stuff that's not acknowledged. I learned about the past bombing of the nuclear facilities in Iraq and Syria. Did I really need to know that much about the night life? I got a better picture of history and mood. I got a lot of confrontation with the term "Oriental" as applied to the Sephardi. In fact, I know it was a past convention to think of the Middle East as "East" and "Oriental," and "Orientalism" as the study of the people of the Middle East--which is a whole other colonialist story in its own right. Oh, and I got a better feel for why Israel can't just correct its settlement problem, any more than the opponent Arab countries can simply pick up and change certain proclivities.

I wasn't really "in the mood" to read this book. I did it for the book club. Since I wasn't in the mood I put off getting the book and ended up with a forced read through the (for me) bleak Kindle terrain. The book wasn't hard to read. It went fast; there was just a lot of it. Abrams pointed out that Ari Shavit has been called "Apocalypse Now, Apocalypse Forever" for his tendency to characterize every year as the critical year, the 11th hour, or the last chance. I noticed, too, that just about every young woman who shows up in this book is "a beauty."

Despite all the glowing reviews I knew it wasn't a 5-star book. You learn but it is not revolutionary or life-changing. It's good journalism.

Back to my opening comments--those who tend toward the pro-Israel are going to look askance at some of the confessional material and tone. But it's not quite as across the board as it may seem from my brief allusions. Those who tend in the other direction may be dismissive of Shavit's loving his country and not condemning it out of hand. I've already seen some letters-to-the-editor of that nature.

As for me, it's amazing to see how precise and analytic we can be of the next person or group, while having, to borrow a phrase, a log in our own eye. My latest learning about polemic is that its focus is most laser-like on what is similar. Israel/Jews are now similar to all these other countries so the job of polemic is to create distinction and make that similarity invisible. Can you believe that the Jews of the late 19th century believed they were hated because they were stateless, and that their situation would normalize once they had one?

Ari Shavit looked at just about every point of view you can imagine, but he didn't have anything to say--didn't analyze--those who are looking at Israel, other than seeming to accept it, I think, as a judgment. I mean, he could say that, yes, Israel has regional power, and then he could step outside that view and say that, given the population numbers and territory, the surrounding Arab countries hold the power trump card. I wish he'd looked back at the lookers, the judges, and analyzed them, as he did just about everything else!

Well, I'm running out of steam, and may have been working with a dearth of steam from the outset, anyway.

Since there were a couple of links I couldn't include (missing links?--ha!), here are a couple. Shavit's peace proposal from The New Republic. Well, maybe I'll stop with that for now.

And one more psychological reference from Kahneman: knowing one's own biases can contribute to peace in interpersonal relationships. Why not in the world at large?

[Jenny · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is by far the best book of non-ficion I've read this year, and certainly the one that brought me closest to understanding Israel, and along with it the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

What made this book different from all of the other books I've read about this subject so far is that unlike most other authors Shavit focuses on the micro rather than the macro. It tells the story of Israel and the Zionist utopian project that was the beginning of what we now know as Israel, by providing very little handy political facts. No chapter on the Yom Kippur War or on any of the other wars or Camp Davids that in most books about Israel or the Israeli-Palestinian conflict would define the face of the country portrayed. Instead Shavit zooms in. On people, on certain events and places. He makes the macro comprehensible by focusing in on the micro. And he does so with a deep passion for Israel and its people, and at the same time an astonishing ability to capture the state of moral ambiguity that Israel has been living in since day one.

[Elyse Walters · Rating 5 out of 5]

Facing unprecedented internal and external pressures, Israel today is at a moment of
existential crisis.
Ari Shavit draws on interviews, historical documents, private diaries,
and letters, as well as his own family story, illuminating the pivotal moments of the
Zionist century to tell a riveting narrative that is larger than the sum of its parts: both
personal and national, both deeply human and of profound historical dimension.

It's clear Shavit, a secular leftist, loves his country, but is conflicted about the founding of Israel and the conflicts. He's a strong believer in a two-state solution. He pretty much ignores
the Biblical promise of the land to the people of Israel.
There is chapter in the book in which Shavit describes the expulsion of the Arabs of Lydda ...
( now Lod), in 1948. He shows great sympathy for the Palestinian Arabs.
There are moving parts of the book -- especially when Young Holocaust survivors made a new life with himself in Israel.
Kibbutz builders, Orange growers, Young people dancing in the desert, came together from
their displacement.
Then there is a chapter in the book -- titled 'The New Yorker',... which seems to be the
most anti-Israel section in the book.
Shavit's aim was to be 'fair' ....but 'The New Yorker' chapter was a little depressing. It 'seems' it's only a matter of time until Israel will no longer be 'A Promised Land'.
I feel it's the right thing to do: to split the land- (yet, I have my own memories and history Israel with Kibbutz life, family in Israel, etc .... and have emotional attachments).
The problems are complex......gut -wrenching rendering of a very distressing road traveled by both parties.
Ari Shavit did an excellent job with this book... capturing the essence and beating heartbeat of the Middle East.

Well worth reading!

[Emma Deplores Goodreads Censorship · Rating 2 out of 5]

This is not an ideological review. I chose this book not due to any special interest in Israel, but for my world books challenge. For those keeping score at home, my book from Palestine got 2 stars as well. I suspect this is not a coincidence, and that both books’ inflated averages result from ideological/emotional ratings interfering with honest evaluations of their merits.

My Promised Land is a long opinion piece, including a partial history of Israel and a smattering of memoir. Shavit makes no bones about his political views – he’s a liberal Israeli journalist and one-time peace activist – and much of the book consists of his wrestling with the fact that Israel has done and continues to do some awful things, and yet it is his homeland, a country with impressive accomplishments and which he loves very much. His ultimate conclusion is that he’s willing to accept the wrongs Israel committed in order to come into existence (i.e. the expulsion of the Palestinians in 1948), though he condemns the occupation beginning in 1967. It is balanced enough that he’s drawn criticism from both directions – some reviewers blasting him as an Israeli apologist, others as anti-Israel – and while I don’t necessarily agree with him, I do appreciate his wrestling with these issues, when most people would rather not think about the wrongs our own countries have committed. Toward the end Shavit also expresses a great deal of concern about Israel’s future, faced with both internal and external challenges.

Unfortunately, overall I found this book to be repetitive, long-winded and sentimental. One of Shavit’s favorite subjects is the contrast between the tough, suntanned Israeli farmers and warriors and their ancestors, the passive, servile European Jews – yes, these are his descriptions, and he brings them up frequently. Several chapters go into detail about the cultivation projects that apparently transformed the Jewish psyche, and just when you think that’s finished, he’s back with another immigrant story along the same line.

So the history sections were hit or miss for me, but mostly miss. My favorite chapter was “Housing Estate, 1957,” which details the life stories of several newcomers during that decade and the impressive measures Israel took to house and absorb a massive wave of immigrants. Yet that was probably the only chapter I enjoyed. Several chapters go into detail on rather eccentric topics: for example, a youth leaders’ camping trip to Masada in 1942, or the hardcore nightlife of the early 2000s. Other chapters would make sense in a history book, but this is a personal work that doesn’t claim to be comprehensive history, and having chosen this rather than a textbook, I wasn’t looking for every detail about who signed what agreement with whom regarding the Israeli nuclear program, for instance.

Meanwhile, some major topics are mentioned only in passing, such as the wave of Russian immigration in the 1990s, or the lack of assimilation of the ultra-Orthodox, many of whom don’t work but rather receive subsidies for religious study. There’s an odd chapter about a Sephardic leader, in which Shavit asserts repeatedly that the Israelis of Middle Eastern and North African origin are “oppressed” and “downtrodden” without ever explaining in what way – he does tell us they comprise half the population and that they aren’t discriminated against in housing or employment, but by some unclear means their culture is being destroyed? I could have done with more explanation of that, and fewer passages about lemon and orange groves, or sex in nightclub bathrooms.

At any rate, Shavit makes some odd choices about what material to cover, perhaps determined by whom he was able to interview. He does include interviews with many prominent Israelis, some of them protagonists in important chapters in the country’s history. The book does not show quite the breadth he claims in the acknowledgments (“Jews and Arabs, men and women”) – Shavit includes interviews with many Israeli men, a handful of Israeli women, and three Palestinian men. It’s telling that even this author, a prominent liberal journalist, barely knows any Palestinians; how many Palestinians must a typical Israeli know, and vice versa? But Shavit does a good job of including (Jewish) voices with which he disagrees, giving them space to talk and not vilifying opposing viewpoints.

(As a side note, Shavit is a bizarre interviewer, at times lecturing his subjects and including his lectures verbatim in the book, other times asking questions like, “So what is the crux of your story? And what is the crux of the Oriental Israeli story? Do the two really converge?”)

But in the end, this book simply failed to hold my interest over its 400+ pages, and seemed far too long for the amount of material presented. Perhaps worthwhile for those with a strong interest in Israel, but I would advise casual readers to steer clear.

[Cathy · Rating 1 out of 5]

Shavit begins his history of Zionism and Israel honestly and that's what kept me reading, even though I fundamentally disagree with his thesis that because of the Holocaust, European Jewry had an inalienable right to create the State of Israel on the land that hundreds of thousands of Palestinians had been living on for hundreds of years. But he was honest about the inability and/or unwillingness of early Zionists to see or acknowledge the indigenous people of Palestine and about the ethnic cleansing that took place during the 1948 war that was explicitly ordered by Ben Gurion. He is also honest about the disaster of Occupation and the illegal settlements and how those "facts on the ground" make a 2 state solution impossible. However, his gloating over the Israeli nuclear weapons capability combined with his paranoia about Iran acquiring the same capability turned my stomach. The book is also endlessly repetitive and at least twice as long as it needed to be. Shavit presents an Israeli "success story" in every chapter: the difficult history of each subject before coming to Israel, whether from Europe during or after the Holocaust or from other Middle Eastern countries after the foundation of the State. All are victims of anti-Semitism, all make fantastic lives for themselves in Israel and contribute to the greatness of the Zionist vision. Although he also repeatedly reminds the reader that this great vision has been built on another peoples' land, he actually only sees the Palestinians as posing an "existential threat" to the "Jewish and democratic state". Insert much eye rolling here.
He goes into a lot of detail about the foundation of Israel, the wars of 1948, 1967 and 1973, the rise of the right and the settler movement, the Oslo accords and the Intifadas, the Lebanon war of 2006, but makes no mention of Operation Cast Lead. Since the book was written in 2013, I was quite curious to discover his POV on this particular and very recent Israeli war crime. Turns out he thinks it was a "defensive war" and those Israelis who called it a war crime are "self-hating". Apparently Shavit is trying to revive something called "Liberal Zionism", which is clearly an oxymoron. Kind of like being a "liberal fascist", methinks.
He is much like Benny Morris who was the first of the new Israeli historians to confess to the ethnic cleansing of 1948 but who then turned around and claimed it had to be done to clear the land for the Jews. I honestly can't understand how one can hold these two ideas at the same time. It's like saying "It's OK if I do a really bad thing because it's going to make my own life better." That's the rationale of every criminal on the planet.

[Iris P · Rating 4 out of 5]

Excellent and comprehensive narrative that helps you understand the history of the establishment of the modern state of Israel and the background behind the conflict with the Palestinian people.
I am far from being an expert but after reading this fantastic non-fiction book, I am much more well-informed. Highly recommended if you're interested in the topic.

[Elyse Walters · Rating 5 out of 5]

Old review Missing in Action ...
but there are many excellent reviews.

[K · Rating 3 out of 5]

Updated review: Just took off two stars after reading this article. Shame on you, Ari Shavit.

I still think it's a great book, but there's no way I'm giving five stars to a work that includes intellectually dishonest reporting. And if the seminal chapter on Lydda, often excerpted as proof of Israel's wrongdoings, was misleading, what might that mean about some of the other book's claims?

Earlier, more glowing review:

If you're searching for one word to capture the essence of Israel, that word might be complex. I lived in Israel for six years, and it's a land of strong, loud opinions and multiple conflicting perspectives. It's hard to capture all of that in a book, much less a readable and engaging one that's not too cumbersome yet not simplistic. I'll leave it to smarter, better-informed people than I to judge whether Ari Shavit has fully achieved that in this book. I'll simply say he comes close, close enough for me to give the book five stars.

Shavit makes a wise choice when he uses microhistory to examine Israel at different points of time, from different perspectives, with different goals in mind. It makes for readable and engaging narratives that educate the reader. Each of these narratives, while seeming to focus on one or a few individuals, shed light on the whole and offer insight into important segments of Israeli history and society.

Shavit begins with his great-grandfather, a devout British Jew who journeys to Palestine in 1897. Bentwich, Shavit's great-grandfather, embraces Herzl's vision of a Jewish state in Israel with idealistic fervor and tunnel vision, wholly absorbed in this great white hope for Jewish continuity and blind to the fact that people already live in Palestine.

Shavit then takes us into a 1920s kibbutz, where devoted pioneers settle the land at great personal sacrifice. We visit an orange grove in the 1930s, owned by a successful Jew who represents a further step on the road of Jews investing in Palestine, developing self-confidence, and becoming a threat to their Arab neighbors. We join a Jewish leader in the early 1940s as he hikes with a group to Masada, asserting his ownership of the land and his identification with those who died resisting those who wanted to wrest that ownership from them. The picture darkens as Shavit takes us to 1948 Lydda, where the War of Independence displaces Arab civilians from their longtime homes.

Moving into the 1950s, we encounter post-Holocaust Jews who have suffered horrifically and found refuge in the new state of Israel. No group, Arab or Jew, has a monopoly on displacement and suffering, Shavit seems to be telling us here. Shavit then takes us into the late 1960s, where he explores the issue of Israel's developing nuclear power and what this means in terms of Israel's relationship with its many enemies. We get the perspective of fervent settlers beginning in the mid-1970s, individuals who believe it is incumbent upon them to build communities in the occupied territories in order to preserve Israel's existence. Skipping ahead into the early 1990s, we visit an army prison camp where Palestinian inmates interact with their ambivalent Israeli guards. We then learn the story of the Oslo accords, what they were supposed to achieve and how they failed.

Shavit introduces us to Aryeh Deri, a Sephardic politician who gives us a window into some of Israel's internal turmoil. He takes us into the club scene of the early 2000s, where young Israelis rebel against the traditional austerity and idealism and existential fear and embrace hedonism as a kind of life-affirming denial. Shavit then introduces us to the Palestinian perspective of the mid-2000s. We also learn about increasing capitalistic aspirations and demands for social justice among Israeli young adults. We learn about the crisis posed by Iran, and how and why it was ignored for too long.

Shavit pulls all of these stories, interviews, and perspectives together in his final chapters. He describes Israel as having experienced a total of seven revolts: the settlers' revolt against political restraint, the peace revolt against the existential reality of Israel, the liberal-judicial revolt against the all-powerful state, the Sephardic revolt against Eurocentric discrimination, the Haredi revolt against secularism, the hedonist-individualistic revolt against Zionistic ideological conformity, and the Palestinian revolt against Jewish nationalism.

While each of these revolts was justified and sought rights for an oppressed minority, Shavit says, their cumulative effect was divisive and destructive. The early Ben Gurion state, with its kibbutz-socialist mentality and omnipotent government, got the state through its early existential threats and forged the way for it to become a real country. But this state also neglected the individual rights of a wide range of groups, resulting in the fissures we have today. Sadly, today's government lacks the strength to reunite Israeli's multifaceted society.

Shavit describes the various threats to Israel, from within and without, as seven concentric circles. The outermost, he says, is the Islamic circle. Israel is surrounded by Islamic countries, many of which are becoming increasingly radical and hostile to the Westernized democracy in their midst. Inside that circle is the Arab circle. Arab nationalism is on the rise, creating political unrest and turmoil. Inside that circle is the Palestinian circle, a group of people who feels dispossessed by the Jewish state they never wanted. So you've got religious, political, and personal forces coming together to threaten Israel's existence.

But there are also threats from within Israeli society. There are the Arab citizens to whom Israel has not figured out how to relate. There is the loss of the utopian kibbutz idealism that drove earlier Israelis to build and defend their land. There is the difficulty maintaining a democratic stance with growing minorities who don't share democratic values. And ultimately, there is the loss of identity and culture among Israelis. Israelis no longer know who they really are, Shavit states. Shavit also acknowledges his pro-peace leanings, which are evident in the book, while recognizing the realistic challenges to peace.

While no book can fully capture the complexities and fractures of Israeli society, or offer a truly balanced perspective on Israel's volatile conflicts, Shavit comes pretty close in this readable work. Highly recommended for those with an interest in the topic.

[Gabby · Rating 5 out of 5]

I received an ARC of My Promised Land by Ari Shavit from Random House Publishing Group in return for which I agreed to write a review. The opinions expressed in my review are my own.

It was obvious to me from the very beginning of this fascinating and informative book that for Ari Shavit writing this history of those who developed and continue to nourish the state of Israel was a labor of love. The whole atmosphere of this reading experience was one of devotion to telling Israel's story from the beginning of the state to the present time as well as hopes for the future. It was done as factually as possible by telling the story directly from as many people who were able to share what they experienced in the context of the time frame in which these events occurred. For each of the participants, in sharing their personal experience, the passion, courage, and attitude to never give up on the formation of the Israeli state is a constant. The dedication to forming a state as well as providing it with the continued devotion to having it remain relevant and viable as an entity to be reckoned with globally is an inspiration and testament to the strength of the human spirit.

As Shavit puts it, "Israel is a nation-state founded in the heart of the Arab world... A wide circle of 350 million Arabs surrounds the Zionist state and threatens its very existence." An inner circle of 10 million Palestinians also poses a threat to Israel's ability to survive. Given those numbers, Israel doesn't appear to have much going for it. Unless, of course, the sheer will power to exist as a free society is taken into account. Israel is continued proof that people with one specific goal in mind, the right and necessity to have and keep a homeland, is motivation enough to succeed no matter what the cost.

The subtitle to My Promised Land is 'The Triumph and Tragedy of Israel'. Shavit begins his story with the arrival in Jaffa of 30 passengers from London, England, among whom is is his great-grandfather, Herbert Bentwich. It is Bentwich who believes that Jews must settle in their ancient homeland. Shavit follows the route his great-grandfather took upon arrival in Jaffa, and he continues throughout the book to visit all the areas in which early settlers were faced with challenge after challenge in learning how to live productively in places that were essentially undeveloped. He tells how these settlers learned to work the land. If technology did not exist to support their activity, they invented it themselves. The dedication of those people was awe inspiring. They had to be creative, practical, and find sources of income to support these new ideas in agriculture which led to more development in other areas of setting up a life style. Those early years were full of back breaking labor, but no matter what the challenge someone always came through with answers. The result was the development of the orange industry in Jaffa which distributed the fruit throughout Europe.

There are many success stories throughout Israel's history many of which I was unaware. What stands out most about the story of the Jews who came to settle the Israeli state is those who survived the Holocaust. Before Shavit details that, he writes about Masada. For me, that is one of the most heart breaking, and yet inspiring, events in history. I was familiar with the Masada story, but I did not know about the events in the 20th century that led to the revisiting of Masada as a historical shrine. I found Shavit's retelling of the Masada story to be riveting.

There are times when Shavit makes very clear his opinions on certain events in Israel's history, particularly those decisions with which he does not agree. He holds strong opinions about Israel's development of nuclear weapons as well as the continuing struggle over Israel's Occupation of disputed Palestinian territory. I do not agree with some of the conclusions Shavit draws on those two subjects in particular. The Israeli people have been persecuted for thousands of years, and there was a well thought out plan to annihilate the entire Jewish population from the face of the earth. In view of that history, I believe Israel has every right to do what it needs to do to protect itself. There was no voice of reason dominant enough to stop the murder of over 6 million people. There were no effective "peaceniks" speaking out nor taking the measures necessary to stop the murder of so many innocent people. For me, that's a lesson learned. If Israel doesn't stick up for its own, no one else is going to do it for them. I think it's easy to sit back and take a moralistic attitude; it's much more difficult to live each day knowing the Arab world does not follow that same lofty position.

With that said, I still highly recommend this book to anyone interested in the history of Israel along with the dedication of the men and women who brought a dream of statehood to fruition. Shavit does an excellent job of presenting all sides of the issues Israel faced in the past and what they will have to face in the future if they want to remain a viable global entity. I wish I could give this book a rating higher than 5 Stars. It's worth at least a 10.

[jordan · Rating 5 out of 5]

What are readers to make of Ari Shavit’s beautifully rendered and often profound (and often profoundly depressing) new book? It isn’t exactly a history, though it considers a number of key moments in the history of Israel. Nor is it memoir, though Shavit folds his and his family’s experience seamlessly into the broader narrative. Creative non-fiction? That feels like a copout. Labels might not matter to some, but I settled in the end on a creative analytical meditation on the miraculous rise, strengths, and challenges of modern Israel. One thing is certain: hate it or love it, no reader will likely finish Shavit’s discussion without substantial food for thought.

Writing on a topic that often breeds over simplification and over-confident statements made with excessive surety, Shavit stands out for a refreshing willingness to admit to complexity. He begins by honestly stating his own positions as an "anti-occupation peacenik" and a “left wing journalist.” At the same time he eschews, indeed castigates, the current fashion of imagining Israel as the source of all the Middle East’s (and even all the world’s!) ills. Instead he writes with honest admiration about the miracle of Israel’s birth, survival, and success. And as he points out, miracle is very much the right word. Against overwhelming odds, a people dispersed for 2000 years did reunite in their ancient homeland and create a vibrant democracy. Yet no state is perfect. Shavit remains cognoscente of Israel’s weaknesses and what it took for the state to survive.

For Shavit, Israel’s birth in warfare required hard choices, not the least of which was the uprooting of hostile Arab populations. Nation building is never a clean business. Nation building in wartime is still more so. The 20th Century can be written as a history of “population exchanges” as nation states cemented their authority. Nor does he mince words:

“One thing is clear to me: the brigade commander and military governor were right to get angry at the bleeding-heart Israeli liberals of later years who condemn what they did in Lydda [an Arab town that sat on the crucial Tel Aviv- Jerusalem highway and the source of attacks on that arterial road, and the population of which was expelled] but condemn the fruit of their deeds. I condemn Bulldozer. I reject the sniper [sadistic individuals who behaved unethically]. On the contrary, if need be, I’ll stand by the damned. Because I know that if it weren’t for them the State of Israel would never have been born. If it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t have been born. They did the dirty work that enables my people, myself, my daughter and my sons to live.”

The same story might likewise be told across the world. It is the nation state’s dirty secret. Yet no one argues for turning back the clock, at least not anywhere else but Israel (and in Israel, only for one side). No one argues for the non-natives of North America to decamp. And, if that sounds too much like a story from the murky distant past, consider Europe. Tens and tens of millions of Greeks, Turks, Germans, Hungarians, Poles, Ukrainians and others dispelled across national boundaries over the last century as these states rose. Yes, these were tragic tales, but the world marched on.

In the case of the refugees created by 1948, Shavit actually pays insufficient attention to the hundreds of thousands of Arab Jews expelled from their home country who settled in Israel, save to point out that “the number of Jewish refugees Israel absorbs surpass the number of Palestinian refugees it expels.” A remarkable fact considering the vast size and wealth of the Arab world, which allowed (indeed, forced) Arab refugees to live for generations in refugee camps, even as Israel engaged in the difficult, expensive, and even dangerous process of absorption. Shavit does mention the Arab nations’ complicity in creating a smoldering ever expanding population of refugees. Still, he does not consider the guilt of the broader community of nations in their creation of the world’s only community specific international refugee agency, and perhaps history’s only organization whose mission was to maintain and grow the size of a refugee population.

Yet while Shavit recognizes many of the painful contradictions and choices that when into Israel’s founding, some he seems unable to accept even as he makes them plain to his reader. Like many, Shavit sees the Arab-Israeli conflict in terms of 1967. Despite discussing various ways to deal with the legacy of 1948, he returns time and again to 1967. Yet the story he tells forces more painful realizations. Anti-Jewish violence far predates the establishment of Israel, as he offers a too brief summation of the terror and violence committed against Jews under the British Mandate. In a trope that echoes across time, he describes how the Zionist leadership often condemns Jewish retaliatory violence even as Arab leaders lionize those who murder Jewish civilians, women, and even children.

The roots of the conflict thus go back even earlier than ’48. Consider for example Shavit’s interview with an Israeli-Arab lawyer, a man educated in Israeli universities, who he admires and believes could well have taken another path and been elected to the Knesset or appointed to the Israeli Supreme Court. For this educated Israeli-Arab, the idea of Jewish history in Israel is “pure fiction.” Thus the Jewish state is, for him, devoid of any legitimacy. When he looks to the future he looks forward to a world where: “We [the Arabs] will be masters, and you [Jews] will be our servants.” What border agreement will settle a dispute seen in this sort of cultural terms? Shavit worries over Israelis feeling “triumphant,” but one must wonder where are the Arabs writers who engage in this author’s deep honest introspection over the choices made by the Arab nations?

Shavit’s book is not without flaws. He can be arrogant, even self-righteous. Some of his interviews seem more of an opportunity to monologue for a paragraph in the form of a question which he follows with a terse one sentence answer. Yet none of that takes away from the fundamental strength of his analysis or the deep pathos he feels for the Jewish State. He struggles with his desire for a “normal” state, even as he celebrates Israel’s accomplishments and suffers for its failures. Ultimately, sympathetic, ethically questioning, and feeling no shortage of angst, Shavit’s book speaks volumes of the Jewish experience in general and the Israeli experience in particular.

[Trish · Rating 4 out of 5]

Shavit begins what he hopes is an international dialogue with this book. Such a dialogue has been long in coming. Perhaps the time is ripe. He can see that the Israeli position in the Middle East is dangerous and endangered. He uses interviews to illustrate various events that have shaped the nation and its now shifting worldview.

Shavit shows us how both the right and the left in Israel today have flaws in their grasp of where Israel is in relation to the Palestinians, the Arab world, indeed, even America. He is blunt, bruising, argumentative but illuminating as he cuts away at justifications of former and would-be leaders. The underpinnings of their stance are revealed in this way.

We know where Shavit stands:

”…the choice is clear: either reject Zionism because of (the expulsion of Palestinians from) Lydda, or accept Zionism along with Lydda. One thing is clear to me: the brigade commander and the military governor were right to get angry at the bleeding-heart Israeli liberals of later years who condemn what they did in Lydda but enjoy the fruits of their deed. I condemn Bulldozer. I reject the sniper. But I will not damn the brigade commander and the military governor and the training group boys. On the contrary. If need be, I’ll stand by the damned. Because I know that if it wasn’t for them, the State of Israel would not have been born. If it wasn’t for them, I would not have been born. They did the dirty, filthy work that enables my people, myself, my daughter, and my sons to live.” (p. 131)

The following passage was one of the most revealing and enlightening to me for it gave me a perspective I had not considered:

”Israel of the 1950s was a state on steroids: more and more people, more and more cities, more and more villages, more and more of everything. But although development was rampant, social gaps were narrow. The government was committed to full employment. There was a genuine effort to provide every person with housing, work, education, and health care. The newborn state was one of the most egalitarian democracies in the world. The Israel of the 1950s was a just social democracy. But it was also a nation of practicality that combined modernity, nationalism, and development in an aggressive manner. There was no time, and there was no peace of mind, and therefore there was no human sensitivity. As the state became everything, the individual was marginalized. As it marched toward the future, Israel erased the past. There was no place for the previous landscape, no place for previous identities. Everything was done en masse. Everything was imposed from above. There was an artificial quality to everything. Zionism was not an organic process anymore but a futuristic coup. For its outstanding economic, social, and engineering achievements, the new Israel paid a dear moral price. There was no notion of human rights, civil rights, due process, or laissez-faire. There was no equality for the Palestinian minority and no compassion for the Palestinian refugees. There was little respect for the Jewish Diaspora and little empathy for the survivors of the Holocaust. Ben Gurion’s statism and monolithic rule compelled the nation forward.”(p. 151)

Shavit seems to mourn, to regret, that the folks who were instrumental in setting up and continuing the success of the Israeli state seemed not to know what they were doing in terms of outcomes. The folks he is talking about were big, big in every way: in society, in influence, in action, and that they should have taken more care to think how their actions would affect the present and the future of Israel (and I would add, the world). But they were only men. Only human. They did the best they could at what they were best at. Most of us would be proud to have that written on our gravestones. But we now have to ask ourselves, “is this the best we can do?” The legacy of these folks is unacceptable today.

Shavit begins with the historical underpinnings of the state of Israel, but by the end he admits the “binding historical narrative has fallen apart.” One almost wishes it were possible to begin again, starting back when land was actually purchased rather than stolen. Shavit acknowledges it is difficult to ignore the truth of displaced Palestinians. “What I see and hear here is an entire population of ours…imprisoning am entire population of theirs. This is a phenomenon without parallel in the West. This is systematic brutality no democracy can endure.” Whatever else Israel has succeeded in accomplishing must be paired with this bald fact.

But many in Israel are willing to live with this. Even Shavit claims it gives his people the edge (“quick, vital, creative”) that living under the “looming shadow of a smoking volcano” brings. Some “harbor in their heart a great belief in a great war, which will be their only salvation.” Well. (pause) Do I need to add that this does not seem much of a solution?

It was difficult for me to finish reading this book. My emotions roiled as I read the bulk of Shavit’s narrative, and at some point I exclaimed, “thank god for Shavit,” for he is willing to struggle with hard truths and face them like a leader. But I felt I was finished before I got to Shavit’s concluding chapter.

This exhaustive (and exhausting) catalog of personal histories, slights and wrongs, achievements and successes, thoughts and second thoughts about who really deserves to be in Israel and Palestine culminated in me wanting to say “just do it.” Now that everyone has had their say and we understand all…just fix it.

The contrast between Israel’s self-congratulation on one hand (we have so much talent, wealth, ambition, vision) and the despair on the other (we have no friends, and so many enemies, we must actually bomb sovereign states to feel safe) is stark. But the state of Israel may be facing what every nation appears to be facing these days: a more divided electorate that hews to less moderate viewpoints, growing ever more radical and less tolerant by the year. While it is possible for me to feel empathy for individuals, it is difficult for me to feel sorry for a nation.

I did read the end of Shavit’s book. He is not optimistic. We all have reason for despair, but real leadership refuses to acknowledge the same boundaries that constrain the rest of us. It seems clear that we all want someone else to do the hard work of compromise and “leading” for us, and we wait for someone else to appear…when we really should all be thinking now, in this age of global warning and divided nations: What have we wrought?

[Mal Warwick · Rating 5 out of 5]

If you care about Israel and its people, or if you’re simply concerned about the prospects for peace in the Middle East, you owe it to yourself to read Ari Shavit’s My Promised Land. Fair warning, though: you won’t come away from reading this book feeling optimistic about Israel’s future. Though the author ends on a high note, celebrating the emergence of new, middle-class political forces in the 2013 Israeli elections, he dwells at such length on the strategic cul-de-sac that the country has dug for itself that, on balance, you’ll worry.

If there is a single message in My Promised Land, it’s this: “As the second decade of the twenty-first century has begun to unfold, five different apprehensions cast a shadow on Israel’s voracious appetite for life: the notion that the Israeli-Palestinian conflict might not end in the foreseeable future; the concern that Israel’s regional strategic hegemony is being challenged; the fear that the very legitimacy of the Jewish state in eroding; the concern that a deeply transformed Israeli society is now divided and polarized, its liberal-democratic foundation crumbling; and the realization that the dysfunctional governments of Israel cannot deal seriously with such crucial challenges as occupation and social disintegration.” Not a pretty picture, is it?

It would be difficult to find anyone better informed or better positioned to write this wide-ranging assessment of Zionist history, Israel’s internal politics, and the country’s strategic position in the region than Ari Shavit. A long-time columnist for Haaretz, Israel’s oldest daily newspaper, and a contributor to The New Yorker, Shavit is a fourth-generation Israeli, a great-grandson of one of the founders of the Zionist project. And you can’t read My Promised Land without reaching the conclusion that Shavit personally knows just about everyone who is anyone in Israel and has interviewed the rest of them for his column.

The book interweaves memoir with commentary and interviews with travelogue, yielding both a sketchy but useful history of emergence of the Jewish state and an assessment of its present-day reality and prospects for the future. Shavit writes with verve and conviction — conviction, for sure, as he argues passionately with many of his interview subjects. His deep feelings about his subject are unmistakable: he writes about his emotional attachment to the land, his grief over the expulsion of the Palestinian people and their unequal treatment in Israel today, his disgust with the settlers and the ultra-Orthodox, and his despair over the occupation of the West Bank. Shavit is, in short, a quintessential Israeli who wears his emotions on his sleeve.

My Promised Land is the second important book I’ve read about Israel in recent years. The other was a novel, The Debba, by Avner Mandelman. Though framed as a murder mystery, the novel is, more properly, an inquiry into the nature of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. The two books are well worth reading together.

[Jef Sneider · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ari Shavit tries to be fair to everyone. The first third of the book is heartbreaking as he reminds us of the horrors of the holocaust and the centuries of antisemitism that drove the Jewish people to want a homeland of their own while telling an honest story of the displaced Palestinians who lost their homes to the forces of history. He knows Palestinian history and acknowledges their displacement, and he knows Jewish history and acknowledges it in a very personal way, using his own family story as a framework. He tries to keep his head up and his eyes open, especially to better be able to see the true situation of the Palestinians. I learned a lot from his open and straightforward history.
The second third of the book was hard for me to read as he highlights the contradictions of modern Israel, a Jewish state founded by non religious Jews now threatened demographically by a non Jewish occupied population. He outlines seven threats to the existence of the country, starting with the surrounding and inhospitable Islamic world and ending with the Israeli people's own loss of identity in the modern world. The threats and contradictions are daunting, confusing and scary. He interviews leftists and settlers, Generals and ordinary citizens. He walks the fields with a Palestinian friend and listens to his story, his anger and emotion. After reading all this, you have to think, this cannot go on.
Finally, he tries to bring it all together, leaving room for some hope. Amazingly, he does so, in spite of it all, and I am left with a feeling of possibility for the future. None-the-less, modern Israel is a country living on the edge, living surrounded by threats, living in the moment and trying to live up to its own history, but living!
Ari Shavit's Promised Land is not a fairy tale or an apology, it is an attempt to put it all in perspective, honestly, without an agenda. An enemy of Israel will find much in the book to agree with and much to hate about Israel, and a lover of Israel will find much to admire and much to cringe at. I recommend the book for both.

[Penni · Rating 5 out of 5]

An amazing book presenting the triumph and tragedy of Israel, as promised in the book's subtitle.

The human experience.
The beautiful along with the ugly.
the good along with the bad.
the sexiness along with the uncouth.

I loved the fact that there was no whitewashing. The moral ambiguity along with the love of the land shines through in every page.

I grew up with mixed feelings about the state of Israel. I didn't come from a rabidly anti Zionist home, yet the stuff we were taught in school gave me uncertain vibes. As I grew older I was leaning towards zionism in a stronger way, yet toward the right. As time went on and my ideological identity further developed, I wasn't so sure that the right was what I identified with anymore. Reading this book somehow clarified so many things for me, in an abstract way. Helped me formulate my thoughts. Although I'm not sure I share the political view of the author, I also don't feel like I need to have a political opinion on Israel. I'm just glad that I can love the land in my own way.

Truly a book worth reading.

[Rachelle Urist · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ari Shavit has written this landmark work with passion, courage, and vision. It is intensely personal. It is also a stunning overview of the rise of the modern state of Israel within the context of 20th century Jewish history. My Promised Land is like a letter, sent through time and space, to Jewish brethren round the world. It beseeches us all to open our eyes to the grim realities that beset our beloved state of Israel. The book reflects the author's sense of mission and purpose, and it testifies to the moral and existential conundrum that besets concerned Israelis and Zionists the world over.

Ari Shavit wrote My Promised Land after interviewing countless Israelis, both Jewish and Arab. They were government officials, policy-makers, writers, scientists, military and intelligence officers, entrepeneurs. The result is a controversial book that both sparks and transcends debate. Written with conviction, and erudition, the book describes and often takes issue with Israeli policies, Israeli social and political movements, and with individual voices in the conversation regarding Israel’s future. It offers firm, historical contextualization. It dares to ask whether Israel can and will continue to exist, given the many forces against it—from within and without. The author emphatically and enthusiastically affirms his love for his homeland. He is grateful to the faithful who gave their lives to ensure the state’s continued viability, but he wonders how deeply that Zionist faith now resides in the generation that must bear arms to protect the nation. After covering Israel’s political and social history, he asks: where are we going?

Shavit begins his book with the story of his great-grandfather, the Rt. Honorable Herbert Bentwich, born in 1856 and raised in London by parents who had fled Russia. Sent to the best schools, he became a lawyer. He was among the gifted and highly regarded solicitors of his day. He was blue-eyed, commanding, and loyal to the crown. Unlike many of his enlightened Jewish peers, he remained an orthodox Jew. He and his wife had eleven children.

Shavit writes:

Had I met Herbert Bentwich, I probably wouldn’t have liked him. If I were his son, I am sure I would have rebelled against him. His world—royalist, religious, patriarchal, and imperial—is eras away from my world. But as I study him from a distance—more than a century of distance—I cannot deny the similarities between us. I am surprised to find how much I identify with my eccentric great-grandfather.

Leading a group of 21 pilgrims, Shavit’s great-grandfather sailed to Palestine in 1897. Theodore Herzl, the founder of political Zionism, put great stock in their journey. Like Moses sending Joshua to the land of Canaan (my analogy), Herzl expected a positive report from Bentwich, one that would describe the land and its inhabitants, and one that would confirm the land’s “prospects for colonizing,” as Shavit puts it. Herzl wanted the report presented at the first Zionist Congress, to be held in Basel. But Bentwich’s interest in Palestine was “romantic,” not political. Bentwich journeyed to find God, not a future Jewish state. His report to Herzl was positive. Upon returning from his initial journey, he invited Herzl to his patrician London dining club, where Herzl’s charisma captivated all who heard him. Ultimately, Bentwich and his family relocated to Palestine.

When Shavit writes of Israel’s 1948 war of independence, he is astonished at the nascent state’s miraculous triumph. “Against all odds,” he writes, Israel’s brave 80,000 Jews defeated the armies of 600,000 Arabs. That the tiny but determined entity, newly called Israel, could win against such enmity, is staggering. But, he goes on, the odds are shifting. The Arab majority of the middle east is growing. The menace to Israel is being harnessed with patience and resolution. Israel’s Dimona facility—its nuclear capability—has served as a deterrent to large-scale war, but with the Iranian nuclear capacity at hand, the future is, at best, uncertain. Yes, one finds glimmers of peace, here and there, and voices of reconciliation. But those glimmers and voices are quickly dimmed.

Shavit lauds Israel’s early pioneers. They transformed the image of Jew from victim to brawny, self-assured man of the hour. The new Jew was self-reliant, ready to take action. The change was astonishing. The technological advances that transformed the land into a picture postcard of the green thumb were (and are) staggering. The Jewish Israeli was a figure of moral, physical, intellectual, and psychological strength.

But Shavit never forgets the Arab side of the story, too. What to Jews was triumph, the Arabs dubbed “nakba,” or catastrophe. The expulsions and massacres of Arab villagers—in Lydda and Deir Yassin, for example—must not be ignored. He pays heed to the legitimate grievances of Arabs living in Israel. While most live far better in Israel than they would in neighboring Arab countries, they are, compared with most Israelis, second class citizens. Resentment grows.

Shavit writes much of the book in present tense, giving a sense of immediacy, even urgency, to the narrative. The book is often punctuated with personal memories, but it is not a memoir. Nor does Mr. Shavit allow his personal biases to dictate the realities he presents. This book is the how and why of the Zionist cause; an enterprise that bound Jews together for millennia. In the face of Nazi Germany, the Zionist cause became an imperative. “In 1935, Zionist justice is an absolute universal justice that cannot be refuted,” writes Shavit. The establishment of a state of refuge was essential to the existence, vitality, and future of the Jewish people. For centuries, the Jewish people had invoked Zion in their daily prayers. In the 20th Century, whether or not a Jew began the day with prayers, whether or not he believed in God, safe haven was essential to life.

In his endnotes, Shavit writes: “My Promised Land is not an academic work of history. Rather, it is a personal journey through contemporary and historic Israel, recounting the larger Israel saga by telling several dozen specific Israeli stories that are significant and poignant.”

According to the New York Times, My Promised Land was written in English with an American readership in mind. It is an important book. Plaudits abound. Among them:

“This is the epic history that Israel deserves—beautifully written, dramatically rendered, full of moral complexity.” –Franklin Foer, editor, The New Republic.

“A beautiful, mesmerizing, morally serious, and vexing book.” –Jeffrey Goldberg

“…one of the most important books about Israel and Zionism that I have ever read.” –Daniel Gordis

Be warned. However riveting, this book can be as depressing as it is thought-provoking.

[Iwan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Sinds 7 oktober 2023 domineert uithongering van en moordpartijen op Gazanen het dagelijks nieuws. Hoe kan een volk dat in de vorige eeuw zelf bijna is uitgeroeid een ander volk (Palestijnen) uitroeien?

Voor een antwoord op die vraag las ik dit jaar Palestijnen van Joe Sacco, oral history in zwart-witte-strip door een Palestijns-Amerikaanse stripjournalist. Gevolgd door Mijn Beloofde land van Ari Shavit, oral history van een kritische Joodse journalist.

In Mijn Beloofde land lees ik een brieffragment uit 1948 van een jonge Joodse immigrant/soldaat. Hij was erbij toen zijn eenheid het vuur opende op een moskee en meer dan 70 gevluchte Palestijnen vermoordde. Daarin is hij kritisch over de daden van het Joodse leger.

"Elke dag wordt mijn angst groter dat onze generatie niet in staat zal zijn de last op haar schouders te nemen die bestaat uit het opbouwen van de staat (=Israël) en het realiseren van de droom.

Ik maak me grote zorgen. Wanneer ik denk aan het stelen, plunderen en roven, en aan de driestheid waarmee het is gebeurd, besef ik dat het niet om opzichzelfstaande gevallen gaat. Bij elkaar opgeteld resulteren ze in een periode van zedelijk bederf."

In 1991 verbleven striptekenaar Sacco en journalist Shavit toevallig allebei in Gaza. Sacco als stripjournalist, Shavit als uitgezonden. reserve-dienstplichtige. Shavit verbleef 12 dagen als bewaker in een detentiekamp in Gaza. Hij schreef er een verslag van en publiceerde dit in zijn krant én in The New York Review of Books.

"Wanneer we's ochtends om 1.30 uur aantreden voor wachtdienst, kijk ik naar mijn collega-reservisten...zijn wij de soldaten van het kwaad?
...als ik de ladder bestijg naar wachttoren nr 6 realiseer ik me wat het geheim van dit kamp is: de taakverdeling.

...Die taakverdeling maakt het mogelijk dat er kwalijke dingen plaatsvinden zonder dat er ogenschijnlijk slechte mensen bij betrokken zijn.

Dat zit zo: mensen die op Israëls rechtse partijen stemmen zijn niet slecht, ze gaan niet midden in de nacht op mensenjacht onder jongeren. Ook de ministers die namens de rechtse kiezers in de regering zitten zijn niet slecht; ze stompen jongens niet met hun vuist in de buik.

Ook de chef-staf van het leger is niet slecht, hij voert uit wat een legitieme, gekozen regering hem opdraagt uit te voeren. Ook de commandant van het interneringskamp is niet slecht; hij maakt er, onder onmogelijke omstandigheden, het beste van.

De ondervragers dan: tja, die doen eigenlijk gewoon hun werk. Hun is verteld dat het ondoenlijk is de bezette gebieden te besturen tenzij ze dit allemaal uitvoeren.

Wat de gevangenbewaarders betreft, ook zij zijn voor het merendeel niet slecht. Ze willen dit slechts zo snel mogelijk achter zich laten en naar huis gaan.

Maar op een of andere, onnavolgbare manier slagen al die niet-slechte mensen er gezamenlijk in iets te produceren wat wel degelijk slecht en kwalijk is. En het kwaad is altijd groter dan de som der delen, groter dan allen die ertoe hebben bijgedragen en die het berokkenen.

Ondanks ons onverzorgde uiterlijk, ons gestuntel en onze meelijwekkende, kleinburgerlijke manier van doen vormen wij in Gazza het kwaad. En dat kwaad van ons is een geniepig kwaad. Want het is een soort kwaad dat zich als het ware zomaar manifesteert, een kwaad waarvoor niemand verantwoordelijk is. Een kwaad zonder kwaadwillenden."

Ik denk niet dat ik door het lezen van deze boeken een antwoord heb gekregen op die grote vraag - waarom roeit een volk dat zelf bijna is uitgeroeid een ander volk uit? Ik heb wel meer begrip gekregen voor de standpunten van beide kampen.

Op de vraag - hoe nu verder? - heeft ook Shavit geen antwoord. Hij besluit het slothoofdstuk met een pakkende metafoor.

"Wij zijn een bijeengeraapt zootje acteurs in een epische film waarvan we de plot niet begrijpen en ook niet kunnen vatten; de scenarioschrijver is gek geworden; de regisseur is weggelopen; de producer is failliet gegaan.

Maar wij zijn er nog, op deze Bijbelse set. De camera draait nog. En wanneer die camera uitzoomt en vanaf bovenaf opneemt, zie je ons op deze kust samendrommen. Aan deze kust klampen we ons vast. Op deze kust leven we. Wat er ook gebeurt."

*****
Verhelderend boek dat het begin van de staat Israël laat zien aan de hand van brieven, boeken en interviews. Spoiler alert: het ging vóór 1948 al mis! Wat mij betreft zo goed als Revolusi en Congo van David van Reybrouck.

>>Tip: te koop bij De Slechte (incl verzendkosten € 19)

[Todd · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book was painful by design as it painted a multisided picture of how our current troubles in the Middle East began. At the same time, in this nuanced work, Ari Shavit showed the tremendous development of Israel from humble and complicated beginnings. From there he takes the account through the formative developments in the ensuing decades primarily through a number of vignettes with interlaced commentary. It’s a personal and journalistic story of over one hundred years from the Ottoman and British empires through the development of the land, dispossessions/persecutions on a number of sides, the trauma of the Holocaust, the Arab-Israeli Wars, the development of a hi-tech nation in the midst of all of that, the emergence of the threats from Iran and their proxies, and the breakdown of peace talks and the intifadas that bring us to the near present. Even if some of the history and the more extreme sides of the peoples are working against it, at the end of the day the only solution is two states for two indigenous people. At times the style is over-written. Still, it’s a balanced account for events and a side of the world that has often needed that.

[Steven Z. · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ari Shavit’s MY PROMISED LAND is the most important book dealing with the Arab-Israeli Conflict to be published since Thomas Friedman’s FROM BERIUT TO JERUSALEM. After digesting Shavit’s work I am confused in trying to categorize it. It is in part a personal memoir, it also contains the historical background of the region, it discusses the political strategies and military actions that have taken place in Palestine since the turn of the twentieth century, but more importantly it seems to be the philosophical and moral ruminations of one of Israel’s most important commentators analyzing contemporary issues and what the future may hold. Shavit’s journey begins with his great grandfather Herbert Bentwich’s decision to forgo his comfortable family life in England and immigrate to Palestine in 1897. From that point on Shavit takes the reader on a wondrous journey that encompasses the early history of Zionism, the uprooting of Jews as they try to escape anti-Semitism in Eastern Europe, the survival of the Holocaust, and the creation Jewish state, with its many economic, social, and political problems.

Shavit’s approach is a masterful blending of interviews with the actors in this drama, including perceptive historical analysis. At the outset Shavit has what appears to be a dialogue with himself as he wonders what his life would have been if his great grandfather had not gone to Palestine. He correctly points out that his great grandfather, like other Jews before and after him do not see the Palestinian villages as he is motivated not to see them. “He does not see because if he does see, he will have to turn back” because the wonderful possibilities that exist in the valley he witnesses are already spoken for. But the plight of the Jews in Eastern Europe are such that a safe haven is needed where the Jews can develop their Zionist dream and establish a new Jewish identity based on cultivating the land. According to Shavit, “as the plow begins to do their work, the Jews return to history and regain their masculinity: as they take on the physical labor of tilling the earth, they transform themselves from object to subject, from passive to active, from victims to sovereigns.” (35) But in doing so they do not see or solve the problem that the Palestinian Arab presents.

Through Shavit’s interviews and vast knowledge the reader is presented with intimate details of kibbutzniks working the desolate valley that makes up Ein Harod, and the settlement of Rehovot which by 1935 reflect throughout Palestine that the Zionist dream is taking root. The author tells the story of the orange growers in Rehovot as a microcosm of the brewing conflict between Jews and Palestinians that will boil over in 1936. Interweaving events in Nazi Germany and the development of Palestinian nationalism in the north the reader is presented a narrative and analysis of why the Palestinians will revolt in 1936 without the traditional political and ideological arguments that most historians present. The Zionist argument is presented in a local weekly published in Rehovot; “we are returning to our homeland that has awaited for us as wasteland, and we are entering a new country that is not ours….all these riches we bring with us as a gift to our ancient land, and to the people who have settled it while we were away….” (62) But again no reference to the Palestinian. Shavit’s argument throughout is that for the Zionist to be successful he had to be a colonialist and occupy the land that belonged to others and eventually force them out. 1936 is the first watershed year that Shavit speaks about as we witness the onslaught of Arab rage against the Jews in Jerusalem, Jaffa and Tel Aviv. The violence and a general strike are different than past Arab protests as this is a “collective uprising of a national Arab-Palestinian movement that results in 80 dead and 400 wounded Jews that transforms their collective psyche as “the Jewish national liberation movement had to acknowledge that it was facing an Arab liberation movement that wished to disgorge the Jews from the shores they settled on.” (74) The Arabs could no longer be ignored and the response led to further violence and brutality through 1939 as for the first time the Jews retaliated in kind.

In a wonderful chapter dealing with Masada, Shavit describes his interview with Shmaryahu Gutman who realizes that as 1942 dawned the future of world Jewry rested in the hands of the Soviet army as it tried to stem the Nazi tide on the Eastern Front. At the same time General Erwin Rommel is threatening Cairo and if successful the Jews of Palestine would be decimated. At this point Gutman leads a group of 46 teenagers to climb Masada as part of their leadership training which the author describes in detail. Gutman wants Masada to become the poignant symbol that will substitute for the theology and mythology that Zionism lacks. He wants to create a Jewish ethos of resistance that will override the reputation of Jews who do not fight back. It is an interesting concept that was explored in an earlier book by Jay Gonen, A PSYCHOHISTORY OF ZIONISM which offers the idea that Israel as a nation suffers from a Masada Complex, a type of Adlerian inferiority complex based on Jewish history. Gonen argues that to overcome ones perceived inferiority, one adopts a superiority complex as compensation. If so this offers a useful explanation of Israeli domestic and foreign policy from 1948 onward. The Soviets blunt the Nazi advance and Rommel is stopped at El Alamein and “the Zionist enterprise is not that of drained or of orange groves bearing fruit but that of a lonely desert fortress casting the shadow of awe on an arid land.” (97)

For Shavit the lessons Jews learned concerning lethal historical circumstances are the key to Jewish survival. The author uses the Arab village of Lydda as an example of Israel’s demographic policies during the 1948 War of Independence. Because of its location it must be controlled by Israeli Jews if the new state is to survive. In addition, the area of the eastern Galilee must be Arab free to provide land for survivors of the Holocaust. The new Israeli government under David Ben-Gurion sees the War of Independence as a one time opportunity to solve the Arab problem. Ilan Pappe, another Israeli historian describes in minute detail Operation Dalet in his book THE ETHNIC CLEANSING OF PALESTINE, a plan to clear out Arab villages from areas that the new Israeli government wanted for its development. Shavit agrees with Pappe and ruminates on the issue of Israeli occupation and what it has meant for Israel and how it has become an albatross around its neck from 1948 until today. Once these lands were seized in 1948 the issue of the right of Palestinians to return has become one of the major stumbling blocks for any future peace.

Shavit tells the stories of Holocaust survivors and Jews who were able to leave Arab countries to come to Palestine and later Israel. Shavit also tells the stories of displaced Arab families who have lived as refugees since 1948. In so doing the reader is presented with a picture that is far from equitable. Between 1945-1951 685,000 people were absorbed by a society of 655,000. This was facilitated in part by reparations paid by the German government. When interviewing Palestinian Arabs, Shavit hears that they would like resettlement and reparations, this time from the Israeli government to a Palestinian one.

The state of Israeli society is a major concern for Shavit and we see it through the eyes of many Israelis. The economic miracle of the 1950s is based upon the denial of Palestinian rights as it “expunged Palestine from its memory and soul.” (160) But this denial Shavit argues from a very personal perspective “was a life-or-death imperative for the nine-year-old nation into which I was born.” (162) Shavit describes the common thread that all immigrants that are highlighted in his interviews. First, travel by ship from a European port to Israel, followed by time in a refugee camp living in a tent for months on end, and finally a small apartment consisting of one and a half room in a town or joining an agricultural kibbutz. The author is sensitive to the difficulties of societal integration, and the ability of families to adapt to their new surroundings.

In developing the narrative Shavit has chosen a number of important dates of which 1948, 1957, and 1967 stand out. The War of Independence and the resettlement of Arabs is obvious, but 1957 is not so. It was during that year that Israel and the France began colluding to develop a nuclear reactor in the Negev Desert. French feelings of guilt because of the events of World War II made it possible for Israel to develop the Dimona Reactor which allowed Israel to develop a nuclear stockpile. From the Israeli perspective Shavit argues that the reactor was a necessity because the expulsion of 1948 meant that the Palestinians would never rest until they recovered what they believed had been stolen from them. He further argues that following the 1956 Suez War, Israel found itself surrounded by Arab armies that would never accept her and though Israel never acknowledged the facility the Arab states believed it existed. The 1967 War brings forth a new concept for Israel, one of preemption, which allowed the success of the Six Day War. That success however created a climate of preemption that will be carried out repeatedly in the future, i.e.; attacking the Iraqi nuclear reactor in 1981, invading Lebanon in 1982, and destroying the Syrian reactor in 2007. The policy of preemption has had mixed results for Israel and as we hear the same rumblings concerning the Iranian nuclear reactor today, we can just hope.

Israel’s actions after 1967 solidified her as an occupier of Arab territory and for a few years Shavit argues that Israel felt secure. However, the early stages of the 1973 War proved a disaster for Israel. Shavit correctly points out that Israel was victorious militarily, but psychologically it was a defeat. The end result was the weakening of the Labour government that had led Israel since 1948 and for the first time Israelis felt doubt about the future. With the weakened government the ultra-orthodox saw it as an opportunity to built settlements in the West Bank which Shavit describes through the eyes of the leadership of Gush Emunim and the resulting splintering of Israeli society. This on top of the already emerging schism between the Oriental Jewish underclass and the Ashkenazi elite reflects a country that Israel was not unified and has not really come together to this day.

Shavit points out what he perceives to be the mistakes that Israel has made since independence. The greatest one being one of occupation as he describes during one of his own army reserve tours in a Gaza prison. But he also reflects as to the choices that Israel has as it is surrounded in a sea of Islamic countries who want to destroy her. Shavit argues that each time Israel gives up territory as in Gaza and Lebanon it winds up with Hezbollah and Hamas. He does not see a war breaking out in the near future but how viable will Israel be in fifty years when their own Arab population is a majority and orthodox Jews will outnumber secular Jews. As far as the peace process is concerned Shavit correctly states that “ what is needed to make peace between the two peoples of this land is probably more than humans can summon. They will not give up their demand for what they see as justice.” (266)

There is much more to this book than I have discussed as Shavit ruminates on the conundrum that is Israel; “if Israel does not retreat from the West Bank, it will be politically and morally doomed, but if she does retreat, it might face an Iranian-backed and Islamic Brotherhood-inspired West Bank regime whose missiles could endanger Israel’s security. The need to end occupation is greater than ever, but so are the risks.” (401) The picture Shavit paints is not a very optimistic one. Whether he writes about the fractures in Israeli society, the weakness of its government, the inability to control the settlement movement, or the hope that its economic strength can continue, the geo-political world it lives in leads him to conclude his analysis by comparing Israel to a film; “we are a ragtag cast in an epic motion picture whose plot we do not understand and cannot grasp. The script writer went mad. The director went away. The producer went bankrupt. But we are still here, on this biblical set. The camera is still rolling. And as the camera pans out and pulls up, it sees us converging on this shore and clinging to this shore and living on this shore. Come what may.” (419)

[Nia · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was a disturbing and tiring book, in some ways, yet also encouraging. I finished it some time ago, but never got around to writing a review because it left me feeling so sad, and in a way just a bit hopeless. The levels of apathy, of resignation to what is rather than hope for what could be, and the histories of events I'd read from another point of view about twenty years ago, now seen very differently. All very sad, yet I also see the need to read and attempt to help build on the work of authors like Amos Oz, and to read him in the original modern Hebrew, to try harder to understand the full dynamics of what is pulling on the modern State of Israel from both within and without, and to see how that applies to (and to some extent comes from) our Jewish communities, my chosen community, the people of Israel in the diaspora.
I was struck by the near uprising of the Mizrachim and Sfardim, and my experience talking with a Sfardic friend in 1988, and how we have both changed over those years, sadly.
I remain hopeful, because I must.
Toward Peace for All Humanity,
Shira Destinie
7 February 12017 HE (Holocene Calendar)
11 Shevat 5777 (the Jewish Calendar)

[Thomas Deck · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book was my Everest. Started and stopped reading it three different times. Took a global pandemic to finally get me to finish it. Ended up absolutely crushing it thought it took me 4 months on my 3rd and final attempt.

Turns out the history of Israel is straight up wild. From it's early settlers to pre and post WW2 and the modern day, it's a quite the journey and one I didn't fully appreciate. Ari provides a very balanced view and looks at the issues from all angles and by talking to all different types of people. Turns out there is no easy answer to Middle East Peace

I'm glad I read it but be prepared if you are more of a TV person, first few chapter of this bad boy might get you. They defs not coming out with a show on this, not adaptable.

[Ying Ying · Rating 5 out of 5]

This non-fiction book is so good that it reads as fiction; I could not put the book down. The story is engrossing, and the author's analysis structured and clear. I've learned so much from this book, and I would like to read this again soon.

[John Devlin · Rating 4 out of 5]

The last chapter is superfluous and is painfully trying to evoke a sense of a Beethoven symphony.

Otherwise, Shavit's book is a great primer on trying to understand the Jewish/Israeli - Palestinian conflict.

Told through a chronological trip through people and events, Promised Land does a great job of presenting a balanced view of the clash of cultures both internal and external. There were many things I found interesting to note. Most strikingly was the secular nature of Zionism really all the way up to '73 and the end of the Yom Kippur War. Shavit's take on the personal from the kibbutz of Ein Harod to the studio 54 like clubs of this latest fin de siecle are well delivered, and at the same time his take on the bigger issues like Israel's nuclear program at Dimona, its take down of Osirak, and the chilling development of an Iranian bomb do not disappoint.

Can Israel survive? Demographics outside the country show a rather steep decline in fertility and a gradual assimilation into western culture. Inside, Israel is not monolithic: Ashkenazi, Oriental, secular and ultra-orthodox jews rarely speak with one voice. If the Arab world has become disorganized in its hatred of the Jewish state, it also has become far less predictable and far more willing to strike at Israel - and then there's the potential of an Iranian bomb.

When America took the lands from America's first settlers, when those people were set on their Trail of Tears and hustled on to reservations there were no tv cameras to chronicle the event, there were no 21st century sensibilities to soothe. I've long opined that the Israel/palestinian question is a giant shit sandwich and we keep taking bite after bite. This book did an excellent job of adding a more scholarly edge to my analysis but at the end of the day I'm just back to where I started.

[Michael Griswold · Rating 4 out of 5]

Books on Israel typically fall into two categories: heavily pro-Israel or heavily leaning towards the Palestinian cause. Ari Shavit as a reporter for one of Israel's leading daily newspaper falls into the pro-Israel category, so perhaps one would expect a cheerleading love letter about the glories of Israel. But the picture painted by Shavit is far more complex than Israel being an absolute good or bad.

Shavit takes the reader on a historical and biographical journey from the 1890's through present to discuss the founding of Israel, the growth and development of the state, and the challenges facing the state in the future. What really struck me is that he was able to interview members of Israeli society including writers, businessmen, and politicians; so that it doesn't appear that the analysis was weighted towards any one class.

What the reader ends up with is this complex picture of a society that is both prospering from the days of its founding and a society that is currently or will soon be confronting severe demographic challenges that threaten to alter the character of the state, and international challenges that threaten Israel's survival once again. All in all, a solid effort.

[Milly Cohen · Rating 3 out of 5]

Es tan absurdo ponerle esta calificación, que me apeno. No me terminé de conectar con el libro.
Pero más me apena la poca vinculación que siento con Israel, lo poco que le sé, lo trabajoso que me resulta entenderlo, los huecos que tengo sobre su historia, el desconocimiento de su lengua.
Quizá si un día lo conozco, todo cambie.

[Cody Griffin · Rating 1 out of 5]

Few books have made me throw them across the room. This was one of them. The writing is dreadfully repetitive and narcissistic. It is difficult to trust his perspective of history when the author is continually thrusting himself into the middle of events as if he lived them.

[Book Shark · Rating 5 out of 5]

My Promised Land: The Triumph and Tragedy of Israel by Ari Shavit


“My Promised Land" is a fascinating, candid and heartfelt historical account of Israel. Leading Israeli columnist and writer Ari Shavit takes the reader on a mesmerizing journey that paints a thorough portrait of the contemporary Israeli experience. This powerful 464-page book includes the following seventeen chapters: 1. At First Sight, 1897; 2. Into the Valley, 1921; 3. Orange Grove, 1936; 4. Masada, 1942; 5. Lydda, 1948; 6. Housing Estate, 1957; 7. The Project, 1967; 8. Settlement, 1975; 9. Gaza Beach, 1991; 10. Peace, 1993; 11. J’Accuse, 1999; 12. Sex, Drugs, and the Israeli Condition, 2000; 13. Up the Galilee, 2003; 14. Reality Shock, 2006; 15. Occupy Rothschild, 2011; 16. Existential Challenge, 2013; and By the Sea.

Positives:
1. A well-written and heartfelt narrative about Israel.
2. A very fair and candid account. I’m very impressed with Shavit’s ability to converge history, personal interviews, and various perspectives into one comprehensive narrative that informs rather than inflames.
3. Excellent format. The book is broken out into seventeen chronological chapters that begin with the author’s interesting story of his great grandfather disembarking in 1897.
4. A fascinating topic in the hands of a well-informed author. I learned a lot from reading this book.
5. Fantastic job of describing the unique factors affecting Israel. “Israel is the only nation in the West that is occupying another people. On the other hand, Israel is the only nation in the West that is existentially threatened. Both occupation and intimidation make the Israeli condition unique. Intimidation and occupation have become the two pillars of our condition.”
6. Shavit asks the right questions and does his best to provide clarity on what those answers might be. “What has happened in my homeland for over a century that has brought us to where we are now? What was achieved here and what went wrong here, and where are we heading? Is my deep sense of anxiety well founded? Is the Jewish state in real jeopardy? Are we Israelis caught in a hopeless tragedy, or might we yet revive ourselves and save ourselves and salvage the land we so love?”
7. The author beautifully blends his personal experiences into the narrative without making it about himself but part of the intrinsic story of Israel.
8. This is one of the most candid books I have ever read. “The language that my great-grandfather uses in his diary is incriminating, too. There is no ambiguity, no beating about the bush. His aim and that of his London circle is to colonize Palestine.”
9. Captures the essence and history of Zionism. “After all, Zionism was an orphans’ movement, a desperate crusade of Europe’s orphans. As the unwanted sons and daughters of the Christian Continent fled the hatred of their surrogate mother, they discovered they were all alone in the world. Godless, parentless, and homeless, they had to survive. Having lost one civilization, they had to construct another. Having lost their homeland, they had to invent another. That is why they came to Palestine, and why they now cling to the land with such desperate determination.”
10. The pioneers and men and women behind the history of Israel.
11. Description of atrocities and how different they are. “There was a significant difference between the Jewish and Arab atrocities in the first half of 1938. While the attacks on Jewish civilians were supported by the Arab national leadership and by much of the Arab public, the attacks on Arab civilians were denounced by mainstream Zionism.”
12. Describes how the Zionist movement evolved; not only does it capture the moments of progress and pride it’s candid about the shameful events.
13. Excellent interviews that are integrated into the story of Israel.
14. A fascinating look at when and how Israel went nuclear. “By 1955, Prime Minister David Ben Gurion had made up his mind: the old protective umbrella of Western colonialism had to be replaced with a new one. Instead of relying upon the West’s hegemony over the Middle East, an Israeli hegemony had to be established. In the summer of 1956, during many hours spent with his advisers, Ben Gurion honed the view that had begun to crystallize for him in 1949. Now he stated explicitly: Israel must go nuclear.”
15. The conflicts, wars… ”They feared a Pan-Arab invasion that would crush Israel. But when Israel launched a preemptive strike on June 5, 1967, it had the upper hand. Within three hours the Israel Defense Forces destroyed the air forces of four Arab states. Within six days it conquered the Sinai desert, the West Bank, and the Golan Heights.”
16. An interesting look at the Jewish-Oriental Israelis. “Deri elaborates. ‘Oriental-Jewish culture was founded on three pillars: the community, the synagogue, and the father. The father was very strong—too strong. He was the family’s provider and king. He told his wife what to do. He told his children what to study and how to behave. Even when modernization came, with its French and English influences, the father and the rabbi remained dominant. Religion, tradition, and patriarchy preserved the Oriental-Jewish community for a thousand years. We did not go through European-style secularization. We didn’t have Western enlightenment and a revolt against religion. We lived a life that combined religion, tradition, and rudimentary modernity. We looked up to the rabbi and feared the father, and thus we survived as a community.’”
17. A fascinating look at 21st century Israel.
18. An interesting interview with an Arab friend that captures the heart of this book. “I love Mohammed. He is smart and engaged and full of life. He is direct, warm, and devilishly talented. Had he wished to, by now he would have been a judge or a member of parliament or a mayor or one of the leaders of Israel’s Palestinian community. He is as Israeli as any Israeli I know. He is one of the sharpest friends I have. We share a city, a state, a homeland. We hold common values and beliefs. And yet there is a terrible schism between us. What will become of us, Mohammed? I wonder in the dark. What will become of my daughter Tamara, your son Omar? What will happen to my Land, your Land?”
19. The immigrants that invigorated the Israeli economy and their great contributions to society.
20. A final chapter that does a great job of bringing it all together while asking provocative questions about the future.


Negatives:
1. At 464 pages with very little fluff, this book will require an investment of your time.
2. The controversial book by Shlomo Sand, “The Invention of the Jewish People” makes the very compelling yet controversial case that there really is no such thing as a Jewish people. It’s the one question or issue that Shavit doesn’t address to my satisfaction.
3. Limited source notes.
4. No formal bibliography.
5. Very few supplemental materials. No charts, graphs and just one map.

In summary, this is a very informative and even-handed book on the fascinating topic of Zionism. Ari Shavit takes advantage of his access to information and his storytelling ability to provide the public with a riveting, inside story of Israel. This is an excellent narrative for anyone who wants to know how Israel came to be. A highly recommended read!

Further recommendations: “From Beirut to Jerusalem” by Thomas L. Friedman, “The Lemon Tree: An Arab, a Jew, and the Heart of the Middle East” by Sandy Tolan, “Thirteen Days in September” by Lawrence Wright, “The Israelis: Ordinary People in an Extraordinary Land” by Donna Rosenthal, “Mossad: The Greatest Missions of the Israeli Secret Service” by Michael Bar-Zohar, and “The Invention of the Jewish People” by Shlomo Sand.

[thewanderingjew · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ari Shavit has carefully researched, and thoroughly laid out, the path of the Jews over the last troubled century. He includes all relevant information, including the settlements, peace negotiations and assassinations. He outlines the guilt Israelis must bear for the situation in which they find themselves, and he explains why, what they did, though perhaps excessively brutal, at times, was absolutely necessary for the survival of Israel. In this book, Ari is bearing witness; Ari is expressing his fear for the safety and very existence of his beloved country.
The occupation has done irreparable harm to Israel, the influx of immigrants steeped in Orthodoxy has hurt the economy, and the Oslo Accords sold Israel out, giving the Arabs the upper hand, recognizing them even as they refused to recognize Israel. The problem of the occupation remained on the table, unsolved, and the Arabs refused to give up the right of return, which would effectively destroy Israel as a Jewish state. The simple, stark sentences describing the terror attacks, force the reader to witness the fear felt by all Israelis, children and adults alike. Without that, the reader could not understand what motivates them or how they manage to survive in such a climate of unrest. The stories of success cataloged within the pages of the book show the strength, courage and perseverance of the Jews who settled in Israel. They were determined to snatch success from the jaws of defeat and they did.
When the winds of Antisemitism grew in Europe with Hitler's rise to power, and war loomed on the forefront, the Arabs sided with Hitler. By 1938, the number murdered on both sides of the divide in Israel, increased, with more dead on the Arab side. However, while fringe groups were killing Arabs and were condemned by the Zionists and the Jewish community, the Arab national leadership and public supported the murder of the Jews. In 1942, with war raging in Europe, with Jews being exterminated by the millions, the Jews in Israel transformed themselves into a defensive people, fighting back to save those that survived and to show the world they would no longer give up without a struggle. Driven to be violent by the violence around them, they became a force to be reckoned with, and they paid a great price for that stature. Do modern- day Jews understand that Israel is what holds them together, is what provides the fabric of their future existence?
When Israel was being challenged, the Jews refused to lay down and die again, refused to be conquered once more. It was kill or be killed, and so they killed. It was a hard choice, but fighting back was the realistic choice, possibly their only choice. Yes, morally, some of it was reprehensible. The choice was to expel the Arabs to save the Jews or acquiesce and watch the end of Judaism, for there was no place else in the world for Jews to feel totally free and safe, other than Israel, their own land. Zionism needed to save itself. Jews did not want to go back to the old ways, to wandering, to waiting for the messiah, they wanted to hold onto the road they had, and instead, pave the way for his arrival.
In their effort to become superior, they grew arrogant. The moral fiber of the country changed. Constant fighting demoralized the population. The young now want pleasure first and are no longer nationalistic first. They want to be happy. Drugs and sex preoccupy them. The moral turpitude that pervades many western countries has traveled there. The percentage of people working grows smaller and the percentage of people receiving benefits grows larger. Education standards and accomplishments are declining. In an effort to halt this downward spiral, they have tightened their belts, but still, the workforce has to increase so that there are more hands feeding the pot than feeding from it. Israel cannot sustain this environment and continue as a viable country. They need to encourage and restore a deep love for their country, at home and in countries abroad. They need to encourage the indigent to work, the ultra Orthodox and Arabs to contribute, because right now, there are too few people contributing, and the system cannot sustain that kind of financial inequity. They need to restore and maintain a moral climate in which sex, drugs and entertainment are not the mainstay of the young. They need to restore the love of country that once drove them all to succeed beyond all expectations.
This is a painful book to read. It is difficult to acknowledge the wrong done by the Jews, and at the same time, it is important to understand why. In the end, it does not matter who fired the first shot across the bow, what matters is the end result, and Israel’s future was, and still is, at stake. With honesty and clarity, Ari Shavit explains Israel’s raison d’etre and his hopes for its future.

[Skylar · Rating 5 out of 5]

I'll be honest. I have no idea who the author is. However, I'm more familiar with Zionism and Israel than the average American, but I try to avoid listening to the politics.

I was really surprised by this book after reading the description. I thought it would make me angry or shake my Zionist foundations or challenge my assumptions. It did those things, but not in the way I expected. In short, the book analyzes internal struggles of Israel, from settlements to racism (to both Arabs and non-Ashkenazi Jews).

I learned some new things about Israel and Israelis, and the analysis was well-researched, written beautifully, and incredibly fair. That's what surprised me: how fair this all was. It was an honest account of the author's struggles with his own assumptions. I found that I could really respect his statements because he pointed out what challenged him or confused him. The only frustrating thing is that you rarely got his "conclusion" on a topic. I thought this book would be full of conclusions, but all I got were ideas, potentialities, possibilities, and questions. For instance, I understand that he believes the settlements are a moral wrong that MUST be removed, but in the concluding chapter, his thoughts on how removal of the settlements could condemn Israel to death, I wasn't sure if he still wanted to keep that stand. I think he showed the evolution of his political stands over the book (it wasn't explicit, so I could be wrong), but I don't know what conclusions he came to or why. That was kind of frustrating, as good and beautiful as the book was.

While I highly recommend the book, I don't feel that I know much about the author's politics after reading it.