Imagine you’re taking a leisurely stroll downtown: what do you see? Does it include armed troops sipping coffee at Bridge Street Café? Does it include military aircraft flying over the Waterfowl Park? How about the knowledge that everyone you know, eighteen to twenty, could be involved in armed combat at any time? These scenarios are not likely to occur during your walk into the heart of Sackville, but for the vast majority of Israeli youth this is everyday life. From May to June of 2009, I called Israel my home, or at least my home away from home, as I engaged in an excursion I will never forget. While the immense military presence was a strange sight, the contrast between Israel and Canada was less pronounced than I had expected. A greater contrast could be found in the citizens, particularly in the youth. Immersed in a lifestyle of separation and division, Israeli youth see the world, and most importantly themselves, in a completely different light than a young adult in Canada does. The troubles of teenage life in the west seem to wane when we compared to that of its eastern counterpart.
We take so much for granted in our docile lives that we often fail to recognize the trials and tribulations that many others go through. The feeling of security we have, that we feel, is something unparalleled when compared to Israel. In Israel, the constant threat that devastating violence is always moments away; as is the idea of an ever-lasting war. I remember a military officer explaining to me, “We’re always in conflict, they just call it a war when they give it a name.” The officers’ use of ‘they’ is in reference to the government, the conflict in reference to the constant operations, patrols, and military presence. It’s hard to imagine a constant state of war, always on alert, consistently watchful for that spark that might erupt in flame. This environment breeds a certain type of behavior, a mindset, that compels the survival instinct to become heightened and hyperactive. Still, the citizens of Israel are not paranoid nor in a constant state of terror. Pay close attention to the next few hundred words for they are crafted not from flashing Internet sites or dry pages of books, but from raw experience and first hand encounters. The similarities and differences between the lifestyles of Canadian and Israel youths are without a doubt different, but their hearts, minds, and ambitions are incredibly similar.
The trip I went on was called ‘Birthright’, a trip for Jewish youth to visit, explore, and connect with Israel. One of the greatest aspects of the trip, and my first encounter with Israeli youth, came when seven IDF (Israeli Defense Force) soldiers were assigned to my group of forty Canadian youths, aged eighteen to twenty. These soldiers weren’t there to protect us, but to connect with us. They were all twenty to twenty-one years old, at the end of their military conscription. One must remember that every Jewish Israeli citizen is conscripted into military service after high school for three years (two years for women). The IDF personnel we had were seven navy officers, three women and four men, whose job it was to train new recruits in survival and combat operations. In lay terms, they were trainers, prepping others for combat and the basic operations of naval life. When we met them at Caesaria (an ancient Roman port city on the northern coast of Israel), they didn’t look like soldiers at all. Their shy smiles, expressive eyes, and temperate voices reminded me of most of my high school friends. These were the kinds of kids I saw at meal hall or in the library, the same young adults that window-shopped at malls, played intramural soccer, and waited in line at the pub.
The guys talked about sports, girls, fast cars. The girls discussed fashion, boys, and how they needed to get off that “fattening army diet”. Each soldier had different goals but a similar dream. It was very common, almost expected, that after their conscription they would travel, often to South America. After their soul searching excursion they would return and work, saving money for university and further studies. Much of this sounded incredibly familiar to my own ambitions. They still were worried about self-image, the opposite sex, parents, and the future, like every other teen. However, they also had to worry about a constant war, falling rockets, and exploding bombs. Even with these differences we still laughed at the same jokes, told the same types of stories, and before you knew it the IDF soldiers and Birthright travelers were the best of friends. No longer was it seven Israelis and forty Canadians, but forty-seven eighteen to twenty year olds just hanging out. On the surface it was all the same, but underneath something unique, perhaps troubling, began to surface.
My curiosity had gotten the better of me; I had to ask the question that had been burning my tongue since I met the troops. As the bus drove down the sand strewn roads of the transnational Israeli highway, I leaned back and opened my mouth, “Do you hate the Arabs?” This did not seem like a radical question considering the ever-present tension within the Middle East, felt particularly strong within Israel. One of the IDF soldiers, a girl, looked at me and said in a calm tone, “Hate, no, I do not hate them. I just do not want them living in my country.” The rest of the soldiers nodded in unison. That stuck with me -- “not in my country” -- something that would have never crossed my mind. I was perplexed at the idea of not hating someone, not even minding someone, but being incredibly persistent in the idea that you did not want them living next door. Even further it connected with the issue that so many lay claim to this land as ‘their country’. Yet here she was in a tan outfit with a weapon counting down the days until her service was complete. Here I was taking to a twenty year old girl, trained to kill and who was training others to do the same, and she didn’t even hate the people she was fighting against.
As the discussion continued, I relieved my thoughts on the issue, which was met with the response, “We don’t have to hate someone to defend against them. That is why we are the IDF, Israeli Defense Force.” Then and there it dawned on me, ‘defense’ was the key word. No other military establishment in the world is labeled as a defense force, strictly speaking. For their entire lives Israelis have been taught what their military training has only gilded further, defense of the Israeli state, defense of the faith and the homeland. From when they were small children military conscription loomed over them, a dangerous rite of passage that every citizen goes through. Many of them do not look forward to the time that they serve, but are nevertheless happy to stand guard for their homeland. In fact most of them dread the idea of service with its long hours, harsh conditions, and loss of freedoms. This is an aspect of life that does not exist in our western world where the Canadian military is based on volunteers, not by mandate. They do it with a hard-pressed smile knowing they are fulfilling their social obligations to their homeland, though the term ‘homeland’ is more loaded than the rifles hung around the checkpoint guards’ neck. Many different peoples claim this narrow, mostly barren, and desolate, strip of land.
I racked my mind to find a similar feeling, to try and share their sentiment and I came up with nothing. Here, staring at me was a girl, just like any other girl, who was just living her life, like any other Israeli girl. Her upbringing, training, and faith had all fastened the idea that she was to defend this land with her heart, soul, and if need be, her life. She was a patriot, her body the future of the state and if she fell in battle, in the defense of the state, she would be hailed as a hero. Her idea of growing up has always included the military; there was never a second guess in that. The idea of donning a uniform and surrendering two years of a young life, perhaps all of a young life, is something Canadians will never have to face. She was just twenty years old; she had brown hair and brown eyes. She had a name; an aspiration that did not include the military, but a desire to attend university, and a craving for travel. She was barely an adult but she held an automatic rifle and had an automatic response; “I do not hate them. I just do not want them living in my country.” She had a thousand and one cares about her world, but she didn’t have a care for weapons or for walls.