March 10, 2004

Alison on Aliyah:  The genuine truth

            Before making aliyah, I had been to Israel on six separate occasions.  I spent over a year and a half here altogether on various trips and programs, living with both Americans and Israelis, friends and strangers.  I knew on some level that I wasn’t getting a true taste of Israeli culture on any of these little vacations, regardless of their length or exposure to what I thought at the time was “real Israeli life.”  But I hadn’t realized until recently how little I really knew about the culture and society here.  I’m finding, more and more, that living here as a citizen, and truly enveloping myself in the culture, is opening my eyes to myriad little differences.

            The most prominent thing I have noticed, and what continues to fascinate me on a daily basis, is that when people do or say things here, they really mean them.  And of course, the other side is true as well – pretty much everything that comes into an Israeli’s head generally comes out his mouth in the very near future.  There is no such thing as “just being polite.”

I learned this the hard way.  During the first month after my arrival here, I received a number of invitations to Shabbat dinners.  They seemed to be proffered in passing, and because I didn’t know the people well, I didn’t take them seriously.  I figured they were just being nice, and I appreciated the gesture for what it was.  When I ran into one of the people a few weeks later, however, he was genuinely upset.  “Why didn’t you call to come over for dinner?!” he demanded.  I answered honestly that I didn’t think he was serious.  He had no idea what I meant, and simply couldn’t understand why I would think that.

            In America, almost everything one says and does is out of a sense of politeness or obligation.  “Have a nice day!”  “Nice to meet you!”  “Sure, I’d just love to come over and see your new stainless steel countertops!”  No one really knows what is sincere and what isn’t, and nearly every passing conversation leaves one wondering what was really said.  In the states, if I would slip up and not follow the “accepted protocols” for social contact (ie., calling a guy less than three days after a first date; taking someone up on an offer for getting together when it was not intended to be accepted), I always felt a sense of awkwardness, like I should have known that the person didn’t really mean it.

            It is rare, however, that Americans make these mistakes.  It is almost as if we are equipped with a special “sincerity radar,” that allows us to differentiate between genuine offers and those that should never be commented on again.  It is a sad state of affairs that we must be in possession of such a skill.  The existence of such a sensor in us, however, is absolutely necessary and most obvious when one observes an Israeli living in America.  Many of my Israeli friends have told me that this was their most startling observation upon spending time in the states.  They made a great deal of social blunders and were continually unsure of what to do in certain situations, because they are fundamentally lacking this key ingredient.

Having grown up in a society in which everything that is said is sincere, Israelis are totally unable to deal with people who don’t behave in this manner.  I have come to realize that we are all taught only the specific skills with which to survive in our own unique culture and social structure.  What is commonly referred to as “culture shock” is, in fact, one’s confrontation with the knowledge that they are lacking the necessary skill to understand what is happening in the unfamiliar culture.

            Anthropological studies have found that Eskimos have over thirty completely different words for “snow,” some referring to different textures, some to density, or frequency, or wetness.  Similarly, Americans have countless unique ways to judge the sincerity of others, and to understand the “real” meaning of certain statements, and to test the loyalty and honesty of those around them.  Israelis are equipped with the ability to say what they mean and mean what they say, no matter how unpopular the opinion or how potentially awkward the resulting situation.  And just as Americans have no need for over three descriptive words for snow, Israelis have no use for our “sincerity detector.”  Just as the man who invited me for dinner had no concept of why I would have thought he didn’t really want me to come over, I have no real comprehension of the chutzpah it must take to be so direct on a daily basis, and to argue so ferociously (although believe me, I put in my best efforts!).

Throughout my years living in Providence, I was asked on more than a few occasions if I would be interested in meeting an eligible bachelor.  I would always enthusiastically agree, never expecting for a second that the guy would call.  And indeed, he never did.  I suppose there is a certain pathetic aspect to that act, and I always felt like the intense fear of showing such desperation always overshadowed the possibility that that one awkward phone call could lead to meeting one’s soul mate.  Again, the desire for polite detachment overrules all in America.

But here in Israel, they all call!  Within hours of giving my number out (which I have now done more times than I would like to admit), I inevitably receive a request for a first date, blind or otherwise.  And these invitations are unabashedly genuine.  If I don’t follow up on an initial meeting or invitation here, I’m in big trouble.  If people don’t truly believe or want something, they simply don’t say it.  In many ways, it is a wonderfully refreshing way to live and communicate.  But I’ve also learned to pay special attention to the absences of commentary.  For instance, I didn’t get a lot of comments from my Israeli friends after my last haircut.  In America, I would have received plenty of, “It looks great!” and not known whether they were telling the truth or not.  Here, I know that if no one says anything, they either don’t want to tell the painful truth or truly haven’t noticed.  Either way, it’s genuine.

In contrast, passive-aggression is a national pastime in America.  Most conflicts are handled behind the backs of the individuals in conflict, by means of furtive glances, retorts whispered to allies, and superficially friendly comments laced with thinly-veiled underlying hostility.  Here in Israel, interpersonal conflicts are handled so swiftly, they are often resolved before many of the surrounding parties even have a chance to comment.  An American friend of mine here arrived at my conversation group wide-eyed and speechless the other day.  She had just been at a journalists’ meeting, she told us, and everyone had been sitting quietly through the majority of it.

All of a sudden, she saw one woman turn to her co-worker – more or less in the middle of this large public gathering – and ask her why she had made a certain apparently unacceptable decision.  The question turned into a discussion, which turned into an argument, which turned into a full-fledged shouting match.  Neither woman excused herself from the public venue; neither politely suggested discussing it in a calmer manner at another time and place; neither backed down and neither chose to drop the issue.  When they were finished and the argument completely resolved – to the astonishment of my friend – both women hugged, thanked each other, and calmly sat down and went about their respective business.

Of course, a stormy debate ensued in our conversation group.  Is this better or worse than what would have taken place in the states?  Is it necessarily a good thing that Israelis behave this way (and believe me, this occasion was more of the rule here than the exception)?  Why does everyone argue here all the time?  I was on the side of the Israelis.  No question, I said, there are pros and cons – but at least you know what people think here.  You know who your friends are and who they aren’t.  And if nothing else, I insisted, there must be a lower cancer rate here than in the states – holding in so much anger and hostility has been thought to be a contributing factor to many diseases.

The older women in the group, all of whom have been here much longer than I, disagreed.  It becomes exhausting, they argued.  It is not easy to live in a society where nothing is sacred and everything is dealt with publicly.  Everything is a battle here, everything cause for disagreement, because everything is real.  That was the one thing that we all agreed upon.  We struggle because we feel alive when we do so.  When Jews argue, we are affirming our existence, asserting our individuality, both as individuals and as a people.  When we question the things that happen around us, we are showing ourselves and the world that we are aware and will no longer sit idly by while our lives go on in front of us.  Directness, sincerity, genuineness, realness – this is not just a way of life here in Israel.  It is what we live for.  And I wouldn’t have it any other way.