When Only the Land Keeps Its Promises

SHILOH, Israeli —  Occupied West Bank--The number of American Jews residing in the West Bank and Gaza Strip is perhaps proportionately higher than in other sections of Israel. This is a factor of the ideological commitment necessary to live there combined with old-fashioned idealism. In my home community of Shiloh, almost 30 miles north of Jerusalem, lying between Ramallah and Nablus, almost 20% of the 170 families have North American origins. Many of us are contemplating our future here in the wake of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s decision to follow through with the Oslo process.

All of us voted for Netanyahu in the elections less than a year ago. Undoubtedly, his American style, manners and approach reminded us of certain positive aspects of American politics. We also found in his speeches and promises a resonance of that which lured us to dwell in the landscape of the Bible, Israel’s homeland.

Leaving behind, in most cases, fairly comfortable lives and surroundings, we rejected what we perceived as an existence that was as empty of essence as it was futureless. Not only were we “going home” to where the Jewish people were born, where judges, kings and prophets fashioned our culture and religious beliefs, but we also were enlisting ourselves in the service of a pioneering vision, assuring for generations to come that Jews would, once again and forever more, live as Jews in the places that were undeniably Jewish. Not Tel Aviv or Ra’anana or some other yuppie Israeli town but Hebron, where King David first ruled; Tekoa, where Amos tendered sheep, and Shiloh, where the Tabernacle was erected. We were going back to our roots.

The Oslo process, set in motion four years ago by Shimon Peres and the late Yitzhak Rabin and now, despite disclaimers, adopted by Netanyahu, is a most invidious assault on the underpinnings of the choice we made to live here, “beyond the Green Line.”

For we came here not only for ourselves but so that our children would flourish here in the mainly village-like lifestyle we found in the smaller communities.

It wasn’t the government’s economic incentives that persuaded us to come, although they were an indication that officialdom was behind us. For most, it was the realization that we, as immigrant outsiders, could “belong” to a vibrant and heady element of a new Israel. Netanyahu in no small part reflected that vibrancy.

The real disappointment we now must come to grips with is that our “hero,” the half-American Israeli commander who mastered the art of the sound bite, is leaving us in the lurch.

Have we made an error or has Netanyahu made a mistake? Has the pervasiveness of America, its pragmatism and materialism, caught up with us here in the hills of Samaria and Judea? Did we attempt to escape only to find that our prime minister enabled America to invade our home away from home?

None of us were fooled by the reality of the Oslo process. We hoped that Houdini-like, while bound, locked in a box and under 10 feet of water, Netanyahu nevertheless would accomplish a small miracle. He would ease us, slowly but eventually, out of Oslo. Today, we face the possibility instead that he is contributing to the joint object of the American-Arab thrust: removing the so-called obstacle of a Jewish civilian presence in territories the Arabs want for a state, one they never had and do not deserve.

Just as we distanced ourselves from the concept of America, we settlers are determined that Netanyahu’s latest moves will not affect the choice we made.

Moving here from Los Angeles as my friends Eve and Earl did, or from Chicago like my neighbor Dov or from New York as my wife Batya and I have done, we settlers still have the motivation, the energy and the desire to see through this period of letdown. We overcame challenges in the past; we shall overcome this one as well.