samantha a. - searching for the space to ask
Sitting on the floor of her Florentin studio apartment, Sam is drinking a glass of rosé, absentmindedly scratching her dog, Indi, behind the ears. A semi-native Californian, she sips from an elegant wine glass, a nod to her predilection for natural wine. Like many olim (Jewish immigrants to Israel), Sam works in hi-tech, despite her background in political science.
“I studied political science at Berkeley, and actually planned on working in [the Israel-Palestine] space for most of my young adult life. Ultimately, I took enough classes to realize I would probably fall into a black hole of depression because [the conflict] felt insurmountable.”
In a country straddling the divide between Jewish and secular, democratic and authoritarian, even the East and West, politics wrestles itself into everyday life. As an oleh/olah, (a Jewish immigrant to Israel) formulating a political identity often requires reconciling the conflicting narratives about Israel of your childhood and the reality of life in Israel as an adult. For Sam, that identity isn’t only informed by her stances on a particular issue such as the judicial overhaul or a two-state solution, it’s also about community.
“There’s a great deal of fear of identifying too far to the left of the ‘Zionist’ story we were taught as kids because some days I feel like I’m already pushing it trying to be included,” she explains. “I don’t know how much,” she continues, “but I do know that part of what creates my political belief is this sense of not wanting to be excluded from a community that feels very important to me.”
When asked what those beliefs are, she mentions democracy, equal rights, and equitable access to opportunity for all. Feeling frustrated by the level of control maintained by the Chief Rabbinate over everyday life, Sam specifically cites the Israeli government’s abandonment of refugees and asylum seekers as well as the unjust challenges those without a Jewish mother face in navigating life here. The Chief Rabbinate is an ultra-orthodox governing body that ensures Israel’s national laws and policies adhere to Jewish laws. The Rabbinate maintains a monopoly over religious life in Israel as well as areas of the civil sphere such as regulating marriage, adoption, and other life cycle events. This can be particularly burdensome on non-Jewish immigrants’ lives, as well as those who may have difficulty proving their Jewish heritage because they fled a high-conflict zone or only have a Jewish father (Judaism is a matrilineal religion).
From Sam’s perspective, denying full democratic rights to those who aren’t Jewish just to maintain a demographically Jewish majority isn’t fair. “Ultimately, I’ve always voted for Meretz,” she says, referring to one of Israel’s leftist political parties. “In my head it seems very obvious to me what Israel should be and then every time I sit down and think about it, it becomes less and less obvious.”
The conflict between Israel and Gaza in May 2021 is one of the first times Sam remembers struggling with her beliefs about Israel. “That hit me really hard. Especially because there aren’t a lot of questions about the fact that Israel was the aggressor in that situation,” she starts. “I remember at one point being really upset and very stressed out. I felt very stuck, thinking ‘if this is how it is, then Israel must be wrong.’”
She recalls feeling angry with the Israeli government for unnecessarily inciting greater violence, knowing something wasn’t right upon seeing how internal tensions rose so dramatically. Her frustration with Israel’s actions in 2021, both internally and in Gaza, led to a deeper process of questioning her own Israeli identity. “Personally, I’m very happy with my life here, but there are times when I’m like, ‘why should I be allowed to be here when so many other people aren’t?’ Both people who have nothing to do with the land and people who have a lot to do with the land.” In Israel, Jewish people have the right of return, whereas Palestinians do not. This means that any Jewish person is able to claim their Israeli citizenship as a part of their ancestral connection to the land, while Palestinians are afforded no such privilege, despite holding the same ancestral connection.
“I know there's no way I would be nearly as happy anywhere else,” she continues. “Like I really think that. And that doesn't necessarily mean [moving to Israel] was the right thing to do. Whatever right is, you know, it was right for me. There's only so much I can take responsibility for as a person who [just wants] to be happy and live in the world and have nice things and hang out with my friends; all I can do is my best to achieve that while not gravely outstepping my own moral boundaries.”
When asked how she copes with the dissonance between feeling fulfilled by her life in Israel and her awareness of the injustice that comes with that, she laughs, admitting she relies upon “deep, deep dissociation.” Politics is always personal, but since the war, that intimacy has taken on a whole new meaning. For Sam, navigating a political existence means finding a way to live in a way that brings her joy without compromising her values or allowing herself to become paralyzed by the pain and suffering happening all around her.
“Sometimes it’s uncomfortable because it’s true, there’s more I could be doing to live in the type of world that I think it should be, but there's not much more I could do and keep my own sanity. I've seen a lot of people give their lives to things they care about and it's really admirable. I would love to be able to do that and know it would make me crazy.”
Reflecting on the way the current Israel-Hamas war is being discussed on social media and within the news, she admits “there have been moments in the past few months where I’ve read things where, if you believe everything you read here, I understand why you would question the legitimacy of Israel.” Viral infographics can only include so many details; all too often those covering the Israeli-Palestinian conflict exclude facts or nuance in order to push a specific narrative. Recently she’s faced difficulties navigating the conversation about the war even among friends. “I’m less concerned about sharing my opinions and more concerned about sharing my questions,” she shares.
“Is this really the best way? Of course we all want the hostages home, but do we really think wide-scale destruction is doing that? Do we think it’s making us safer?” “I don’t mean that in an antagonistic way,” she confesses, genuinely wanting to better understand the rationale behind supporting a war that has exacted such a massive civilian death toll. “I’m really curious. What is the logic behind supporting the war? Is it truly that the IDF is going to be able to extract the hostages? Is it truly that we believe you can remove an ideology from a place by killing people?”
In many spaces, the war has also brought a new sense of absolutism to the conversation. When it comes to their views on Israel, these past few months the American Left has seemed more concerned with having answers rather than raising questions. “There's just not a lot of room for questions,” she reaffirms. “And I think questions are probably more important than answers [but] I don't feel comfortable asking them because I don't feel like people are willing to question themselves.”
She sighs when asked about the two-state solution. “It’s just so hard. Everyone wants to have a solution, and the truth is, none of us do.” At least, not a solution that comes with a guarantee of peace and security for all. “Otherwise, it would be fixed by now. If we have the right to self-determination, so do they; I just don’t know what that looks like. I’ve stopped even participating in conversations about what it should look like because I don’t think anybody has an answer right now.”
Sam understands her ability to disengage is a gift. “I do have the privilege to be where I'm at now, which is that I can fairly comfortably live my life and not have to think about these things every second of every day. If I thought that me stopping my life and doing something very different to try and affect the sort of world I wanted to live in would make an actual difference equivalent to the amount I would need to suffer then maybe I would, but I know that's not the case. All I can do is care for the people immediately around me. And if that’s all I can do, then all I need is enough energy to do that. Anything beyond that isn't actually useful.”
Sam is a 26 year-old living in South Tel Aviv. Originally from Palo Alto, California, she has lived in Israel for the past five years. When she’s not at her hi-tech job, you can find her in Florentin (a hipster neighborhood in Tel Aviv), at a cafe with her dog Indi, running by the beach, or checking out Tel Aviv’s newest local wine bar with friends.
