Once upon a time in Israel . . .
When I first moved to Israel and began to understand Hebrew (back in the mid 1970s), I was amazed to witness the high degree of public involvement in the political goings on. Canadians did not talk about politics much, at least not much that I heard.
And here, Israelis would shout their ideas at each other, calling each other “tembel” (dummy) and “satoom” (blockhead) and such. Even kids on the bus coming home from school could be heard arguing about things of import.
But the thing was, in spite of the loud voices and the mutually hurled insulting names, there was respect and people stayed friends even if they strongly disagreed politically.
That was my experience, in any case.
Perhaps my Hebrew was not as good as I thought it was? Perhaps I am remembering through rose-coloured glasses?
All I know is, I wish we could shout at each other and insult each freely and stay friends, knowing that we all want what is best for the country but think differently about the path to get there.
