Deconstructing Israel

The young men of the Israeli Navy commando that boarded the Mavi Marmara, should be commended for their exemplary conduct. In a complex and unexpectedly violent situation, they showed admirable restraint. They were attacked by a mob of hooligans with knives, batons and gunfire, some whom were Al-Qaida linked mercenaries - not the peace activists they had anticipated and prepared for.

Is Israel entitled to prevent ships from entering Gaza?

The Hamas regime, having taken power by force, calls for the destruction of Israel, does whatever it can, including the firing of thousands of rockets, kidnappings and bombings, to achieve this goal. Yet, over the last 18 months more than a million tons of humanitarian supplies entered Gaza from Israel – nearly a ton per person.

The decision to divert the convoy at sea, rather than await its arrival at Gaza coast, with the prepared manifestations and provocations, seems to be legally justified and tactically reasonable.

Is the blockade itself an immoral act of collective punishment, as for instance author Amos Oz says?

Considering the fact that the Hamas regime is more intent on destroying Israel than caring for the welfare of its own population (including the killing of 600 Palestinians, and wounding 2000 of their opponents by shooting them in the leg or knee), Israel’s insisting on examining the shiploads for ammunition and weaponry flowing into the Hamas terror-state may well be a legitimate act of self-defense. There is a similar sea blockade of Lebanon, upheld by other countries. However, that blockade is not put to a test, since the land road from Iran to Hezbollah is open via Syria.

While there are moral and political issues to contemplate as regards Israel’s and Egypt’s blockade, the two countries may be justified in preventing attacks from Gaza.

If all is so right, how come that it turns out so wrong?

How come that maintaining a blockade against an illegitimate, extremist terror regime, becomes a critical leap in the delegitimization of Israel, rather than delegitimizing those, whose intent it is to destroy the Jewish State?

Israel has not grasped well-enough the principles of post-modern warfare, in contrast to its enemies. Thus, an unholy alliance of evil and innocence stretches from Iran, Hamas and Hezbollah, to NGO’s and peace-activists, on to the UN and many Western regimes.

In the post-modern era, the emphasis is not on truth and value, but narrative and image. Thus, the open-minded and well-meaning become collaborators to fundamentalists and reactionaries in the creation of a narrative of innocence and victimization, vs. Israeli militarism and oppression.

Israel should not follow the lead of its enemies in constructing false images, such as the false accusations against Israel about the so-called Jenin massacre and an ever-increasing list of lies, but present an honest and consistent narrative, preferably the desire for peace by two states for two peoples. If the narrative is sincere, based on inner conviction, then truth will stand on firmer legs than slander and lies.

Furthermore, the ratio between physical and virtual warfare has changed. While combat at the physical battlefield once constituted the essence, the ease and access of images nowadays reverses the ratio. The unscrupulous use made by the Free Gaza Movement of a compote of terror-linked organizations and well-meaning solidarity movements, creates a façade of Palestinian innocence and victimization, and condemnation and delegitimization of Israel.

Besides an honest and consistent narrative, Israel needs to utilize the means of the post-modern era. Thus, for example, as regards the Marmara, Israel should not be reluctantly drawn into an international investigation, but initiate and demand the affair be interrogated. There is place to look into Israel’s blockade – morally, politically and militarily; the legal and military conduct when taking command of the ship; the extent of humanitarian aid that reaches or does not reach Gaza, and who is responsible – this may be an arena for Israel to present its case.

But no less, there is a need to look into the legal aspects of breaking a possibly legitimate blockade; what is the civilian/military status of those who violently reject and oppose enforcement of such a blockade; what is truly the terror-affiliation of some of the organizers; what is the involvement of the Turkish government with the IHH and the flotilla (if so, and if the blockade is legal, does that possibly indicate even an act of warfare by Turkey against Israel?).

Please take a look at the two pictures above – they explain how the transition from Jihad militant to peace activist takes place.

The Turkish newspaper Hurriyet has released photos from the Marmara ship, showing beaten Israelis commando soldiers (see photo on top). In the Turkish narrative, humiliation of Israelis is important, and therefore the photos can be shown authentically, without any need of hiding or distorting. If the Israelis are weak, they can be overcome and cleansed from the country, which is the aim of both the PLO and the Hamas, as expressed in their respective charters.

However, in a Western narrative, peace and solidarity are vital. Thus, now look at the picture below, as released by Reuters. Notice how the knife, low right, in the hand of one of the men, has been cropped. The photo may, in fact, be interpreted as if the 'peace activists' actually are lending a helping hand to the poor soldier.

The subtle change of the picture is hardly noticeable, yet has dramatic accumulated consequences. Over the last decade, this has been repeated over and over again, until even the well-meaning have become convinced of Israel's evil.

History does repeat itself, even if the means are post-modern. Without adequate understanding of the post-modern condition, demonization and delegitimization may eventually ‘succeed,’ whereby Israel will be dismantled and replaced by an Islamic State of Palestine. The West will most likely, then, kindly request it to commemorate the people and the culture that preceded it.

To change history’s course of disaster, Israel needs to find ways to terminate occupation, to deal with Palestinian double-talk of peace, on the one hand, and ongoing incitement, on the other, and to be more creative in facilitating the awakening from the odd, delusional partnership between Western open-mindedness and Islamic fundamentalism.

Dr. Erel Shalit is a psychoanalyst and author, and past President of the Israel Society of Analytical Psychology. Erel Shalit has served as officer in the IDF Medical Corps, has been on the council of Meretz, and is a member of The Council for Peace and Security. His latest book, the novella Requiem: A Tale of Exile and Return, is a fictitious account of a scenario played out in the mind of many Israelis, pertaining to existential reflections and apocalyptic fears, but then, as well, the hope and commitment that arise from the abyss of trepidation.

Requiem: A Tale of Exile and Return is on sale now for $14.95, and Enemy, Cripple, Beggar is on sale now for $17.95 or $30.00 for the pair when ordered directly from the Fisher King Press.  You can also order The Hero and His Shadow: Psychopolitcal Aspects of Myth and Reality in Israel directly from Fisher King Press. Phone orders welcomed, Credit Cards accepted. 1-800-228-9316  toll free in the US & Canada, International +1-831-238-7799

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Erel Shalit's articles recently published in the Encyclopedia of Psychology and Religion

The Encyclopedia of Psychology and Religion, has now been published by Springer, New York edited by David Leeming, Kathryn Madden and Stanton Marlan).

I have contributed three articles, Dreams in the Old Testament (Vol. 1, pp. 251-53), Jerusalem (Vol. 1, pp. 449-451) and Sacrifice of Isaac (Vol. 2, pp. 809-811).

The following is an excerpt from my entry on the Sacrifice of Isaac:

Sacrifice of Isaac by Erel Shalit

The sacrifice of Isaac, in Hebrew the akedah, i.e., the binding of Isaac, is one of the Bible’s most dramatic stories. In its extreme brevity, the narrative is an archetypal skeleton, not fleshed out by personal details or human feelings. It thus lends itself to innumerable theological explanations, philosophical readings and psychological interpretations.

God tells Abraham to go to the land of Moriah (possibly meaning the land of the Amorites, the land of worship, or the teaching-place of God) and offer his beloved son Isaac for a burnt offering. Abraham does not question his God, with whom he has sealed a covenant. He has been promised that he will ‘‘multiply exceedingly,’’ and become a father of many nations. He binds his son Isaac and lays him upon the wood on the altar he has built, but when raising his knife, the angel calls upon him not to slay his son. He has passed God’s test of devotion, and a ram is offered in place of Isaac. Abraham then calls the place Adonai-yireh, because ‘‘the Lord has been seen’’ (Genesis 22: 1–14).

For philosophers and religious commentators, the test of Abraham has provided a stage, similar to the trial of Job, for contemplating good and evil. Kierkegaard emphasized Abraham’s anguish and suffering in preserving his faith. For him, ‘‘only one who draws the knife gets Isaac’’ (Kierkegaard, 2006: 27). The willingness to fulfill the command (or rather, as phrased in Hebrew, the request) to sacrifice Isaac becomes, then, for Kierkegaard, a rekindling of faith in the good God, while for Kant it represents an act of evil to be rebelled against.

In Jewish thought, the perception of the story has commonly emphasized Abraham’s devotion to God, to the extent of sacrificing the embodiment of his future. It has been considered a paradigm of the readiness to give up life in order to sanctify the divine name, but also as punishment for Abraham having sent Ishmael into the wilderness.

Some biblical scholars have read the account as a prohibition against child sacrifice, such as mentioned for instance in Jeremiah (7: 31; see also Exodus 22: 28–29; 2 Kings 3: 27, 16: 3, 21: 6), with the angel intervening to prevent Abraham’s act of filicide. The narrative has also served as a model for anti-Semitic blood libels accusing Jews of ritual murder of non-Jewish children.

Already some early legends told the story that Abraham in fact did slay and then burned Isaac. The lad ‘‘was reduced to ashes,’’ only to be revived by God’s ‘‘life-giving dew’’ (Spiegel, 1993: 37). Thus, Isaac served as a ‘‘symbol for the archetypal experience of death and re-birth’’ (Dreifuss, 1971: 72).

The symbolic death of Isaac has been understood as transformative, confirming him in his role as chosen to carry out God’s promise to Abraham, to be the one in whom the seed shall be called (cf. Abramovitch, 1994: 123; Genesis 21: 12). This seed, says St. Augustine, while called in Isaac, is gathered together in Christ by the call of grace. The sacrifice of Isaac becomes the precursor of Christ; like Jesus carried His cross, Isaac himself carried the wood to the place of sacrifice, and like the ram was offered in place of Isaac, so Jesus would die on the cross for humankind.

The name of the sacrificial child is not mentioned in the Quran. Consequently, Muslim scholars have disagreed whether it concerns Ishmael or Isaac. Since it is said that Abraham offered up his only son, scholars have argued this could only mean Ishmael, the elder of the two. The importance ascribed to the sacrifice is reflected in Eid-ul-Adha, the Feast and Festival of Sacrifice, celebrated immediately after the Hajj, the annual pilgrimage to Mecca.

Psychological Aspects

The akedah offers a kaleidoscope of psychological facets and interpretations. Abraham, Urvater of the monotheistic religions, stands in the center, between the Father-God, who now requires of him the sacrifice of his repeatedly promised seed, and the late-born son, predestined to fulfill the covenant and conceive the earthly offspring. The offering of a child to appease the gods is a common theme in myth and legend in many traditions.

Psychological interpretations naturally tend to look at the father-son relation. One aspect of this is submission – both Abraham’s and Isaac’s – to the command of the father. It entails the recognition of God’s supremacy, interpreted on the psychological level as reflecting weakness in relation to authority. Yet, the archetypal scheme seems more important than personal character, since Abraham already had shown himself quite capable of challenging God, as when he argues and negotiates with God to spare the sinners with the righteous in Sodom (Genesis 18: 23–33).

Father’s Reluctance Against His Son

In a sense, the akedah is a reversal of and predecessor to the Oedipus complex. A complex would not have been born in Oedipus’s name if it were not for his father Laius, who frightened by the oracle’s prophesy of his son’s patricide and mother-incest exposed Oedipus to certain death. Only the shepherd’s compassion saved Oedipus the child from certain death by unprotected and defenceless exposure to archetypal forces. Likewise, Acrisius, fearing the prophesy that his grandson would kill him, locked hisdaughter Danae and grandson Perseus in a chest and threw them into the river to an unsure fate, though they were saved by the good fisherman. (Later, Perseus saved Andromeda, who was offered by her father, the king, to appease the sea monster Cetus.) The Laius complex, the father’s fear of the son, who eventually will destroy and replace him, precedes the son’s slaying of the father.

Erel Shalit's Requiem: A Tale of Exile and Return, and Enemy, Cripple, Beggar: Shadows in the Hero's Path and his previously published book The Complex: Path of Transformation from Archetype to Ego can be purchased at www.fisherkingpress.com or by phoning Fisher King Press directly at 1-831-238-7799.