REPORTAGE
"Spasibo" Jerusalem
by Paola Caridi | Summer 2010
Russian Jewish veterans of World Ward II march in Jerusalem on the Day of Remembrance.
It’s easy to become aware of a language’s importance in a country. Just check out if it is used at ATMs. Or, how Russian is used at ATMs in Israel. It’s alongside Arabic and above English. Cyrillic is on the long list of alphabets which over time has solidified itself in a land where linguistic systems abound. And it continues to gain ground-- from ATMs to road signs to tags on the grocer’s counter with the names and prices of cheeses or salamis. Years have passed since the large Russian immigration dramatically changed Israeli demography. The artery that fed -- above all from 1989 to 1997 and also during other periods -- to the Jewish State more than one million persons from the countries of the ex-Soviet Union dried up about a decade ago. Still, the integration of a sixth of the Israeli population is far from complete, starting with the issue of language.
The resistance of the Russian community to assimilate, at least regarding language, is visible every day. You can see it when a group of elderly gentlemen head toward the senior citizen center early in the morning. From afar their origin is recognizable by the light-colored jackets, by the thick wool hats and by the pants. Their clothing style recalls the times, a short while back, of the Soviet state department stores. When the group draws closer, the first impression is verified by the chatter in which only a few words in Hebrew are used, and only in stock phrases. The rest is all in Russian. It’s the same in the parallel society the Russians have created: their bars, bookstores, barbershops, businesses and their own television programs.
The word “Russian” is obviously a generalization which does not take into account the mass of different people who came to Israel directly from the federations of the Soviet Union: Baltics, Ukraines, Kazakhs and so on. But for the Israelis, for the Palestinians and among themselves, they are simply the “Russians.” They are Russians who read their own literature and come into contact with the flowering Israeli literature through strange ways.
“I began having much success among Russian immigrants only when my books arrived here in Israel translated into Russian,” said Meir Shalev, as an example, from his desk in the editorial offices of “Yediot Ahronot,” the largest circulation daily newspaper.
It’s possible to go from Moscow to Jerusalem in Russian. The GPS (satellite navigator) screeches in Russian in Moshe’s car. He came from Lod and does not know the main arteries of Jerusalem. The sign of the Russian bookstore a short distance from the central market of Mahane Yehuda in Jerusalem is in Cyrillic. Ukraine is the only language used in the manicure shop a short distance from the Jaffa Road in the heart of the city, the language of intimacy, light chatter, small secrets and laughter. And when Hebrew is spoken, the Russian pronunciation is as noticeably strong as that of the Italian spoken by immigrants in Italy.
But there are differences with immigrants elsewhere. The million Russians have Israeli passports in their hands. They are full citizens. Percentage wise, they are better educated than immigrants from elsewhere. It’s estimated, for example, that 60 percent of “Russians” have a high school diploma, compared to 40 percent of the overall Jewish population in Israel. Then there are those with a higher education degree in their pockets. This is an unresolved issue in the small Israeli labor market unable to absorb all the qualified workers who arrived from the ex-Soviet Union.
The Russians are more than 15 percent of the population, a percentage important enough to change the Israeli political landscape. Political parties know this and in these weeks they are courting the Russian vote, putting on their list of candidates (and in highlighted positions) the most highly visible members of the community. This includes Anastasia Michaeli, the best-known face of Channel 9, the Israeli television station in Russian.
Michaeli was a candidate for the Kadima party in the previous election, but her 42nd spot on the list was too low to get her elected to the Knesset. Now, the ex-Miss St. Petersburg, who converted to Judaism and is awaiting her eighth child, has much higher ambitions. She knows she is one of the most recognized faces among the Russians. Michaeli also represents those Russians who have integrated into the Israeli social fabric and she does not avoid saying things which border on racism toward Palestinians.
Michaeli (in the 2009 elected in the Parlament for the Israel Beitenu Party) is among those who fight against self-segregation by Russians, against forming ghettos in their little Russian world reconstructed in the Middle East. This self-segregation, moreover, is creating strong problems regarding image as Russians are part (perhaps the strongest part) of the organized crime that over the course of years has consolidated power in some areas of Israel, including Tel Aviv.
Alona Kimhi, an emerging writer, is another example of a person who has made the jump. Instead of isolating herself, she frequents the trendy cafes of Tel Aviv, those of the Sheinkin neighborhood where the “intelligentsia” that counts are found.
“I was in Russia at a writers’ meeting and I was asked: ‘In what way does Israeli literature differ from that of other small European countries?’” she said. “But Israel is not a ‘small European country.’ We truly try and often see ourselves from the cultural and social point of view as a Western country. But we are not for many reasons, one of which is, obviously, the very problematic political situation that we are living.”
The myth of being Western, in summary, is one with deep roots in the Russian community. And this makes it somewhat distant, for example, from the Palestinian question. The Russians are regarded as secular in Israel. On the Jewish Sabbath when businesses are closed and the Orthodox rules say that it is impossible to handle money, the Russians are the ones seen en masse at the Damascus Gate, in the heart of Arab Jerusalem, buying fruits and vegetables. In summary, they go to the Palestinians to do shopping from morning to dusk, completely filling the sidewalks at the wholesale fruit and vegetable stands. To be precise, it is Israeli fruits and vegetables that cannot be sold on the Sabbath. These are located in other places, to the west.
Until a short while ago, the Russians were also the largest group of Israelis to go to Cyprus to wed in a civil ceremony, given that in Israel there are only religious marriages. Still today, at Ben Gurion airport they can be seen awaiting the 7 a.m. flight to Larnaca. In Larnaca they can then be seen, on the same night, in the duty free shop of the Cypriot city awaiting the return flight to Tel Aviv. They are young secular couples, the women with their white wedding dresses in bags; the men dressed already in casual clothes. They crossed for a few hours that short stretch of sea to get married. There are various reasons for this. Perhaps one of the two is Jewish and the other Russian, but an Orthodox Christian, a group within the immigrant group which arrived from the ex-Soviet Union. Maybe their faith still lacks the “imprimatur” of Israel’s Orthodox rabbis. Or still, maybe they simply want to have a civil union, the most common situation.
Although considered secular on domestic issues, the Russians are also regarded as hawks when it comes to the peace process between Israelis and Palestinians. Because of this, the Russian vote is courted by the three main center-right parties: the Kadima, which no longer has the same fascination of previous times when Ariel Sharon managed to attract Russian voters; the Likud Party of Benjamin Netanyahu; and finally, the Israel Beitenu, which gained the name of the party of Russian immigrants. The visible face of the party, Avigdor Lieberman, acting Israeli foreign minister, is a typical representative of Russian conservatism, but in last election he tried to differentiate himself from his electorate to make room for the Israeli “sabra.” (those Jews born in Israel after the formation of the modern state.)
Russian Jews are pragmatic but also hardliners: That part of the West Bank which is now west of the Wall of Separation is not up for discussion given that it hosts big settlements attracting many Russians. They are attracted not so much by religious Zionism as by the economic and fiscal incentives given by the Israeli State to immigrants who go and live in the settlements.
Lieberman has often proposed that it is better to have a territorial and population exchange (thus the transfer of the minority Palestinian population of Israel to the West Bank). His proposal has caused strong reaction by the Arab deputies in the Knesset. Lieberman, thusly, has opened the way, showing how the Russians need to be taken into account in the future regarding the balance of power in Israel
Arkadj Gajdamak, a multimillionaire with some legal problems in France and Israel, also decided to run for office. He started in 2006 when he organized some camps, during the war between Israel and Lebanon, where the population in the North, within firing range of the Katyusha Rockets of Hezbollah, could go. But the political trajectory of Arkadi Gajdamak, of Russian origin, did not last long. In the middle of December, after posting $2.5 million in bail to a local court, the multi-millionaire left Israel in a private jet for an unknown destination a few days before a hearing regarding an investigation into laundering money that involved him. It would be hard for him to return, and not just because of the burning defeat suffered in Jerusalem during the municipal elections (in November 2008). Notwithstanding that his posters filled the city, Gajdamak finished third, behind Nir Barkat (the winner) and the elderly Rabbi Meir Porush, representative of the vast ultra-Orthodox community.