Kharra b-Lebanon I
The topic that was crowding out all others when I finished the previous posting was sustainability. So I was determined to finally get to write something substantial about our work on solar energy, the one clearly sustainable primary energy source (which includes the indirect: wind and hydro power, biomass et al); even though I also wanted to get back to describe at least in outline how I got from just invaded and conquered 1939 Poland to still serve in the British army in 1944 Beirut just liberated from Vichy French rule (see post of March 11, 2005). Then all hell suddenly broke loose around the Israeli Lebanese border, so my varied experience in several of the locations many encountered for the first time in the news should be more pertinent.
Let's begin with Haifa and the railway depot that was hit in the first Hizbollah missile attack that reached that far, and which killed several workers. While it was not thus identified in the news reports, that must have been kHiram near the north end (then) of downtown Haifa; where I performed guard duty in 1942. A few months earlier, while a member of Hazorea youth group A (kHevrat noar aleph), I had decided to become a (dissident) member of the formally still illegal PKP (Palestine Communist Party; after candidacy when I became old enough). One of the less glorious principles of the Hashomer Hatzair was called ideological collectivism (collectiviut raayonit); so if you moved toward any other political affiliation, even another Zionist, thus less disreputable one than "The Fraktzia" (derogatory term), you had to leave a Hashomer Hatzair kibbutz. That may have been a factor helping to maintain what probably amounted to the most successful utopian undertaking in history, lasting 4-5 generations by now. There are enough other stresses when families' lives are as closely interwoven as in such a commune to not welcome political dissension, too. But the other major kibbutz movement (M'ukhad, to which the Warsaw ghetto commander Antek strove) seems to have done about equally well without such definite ideological restraints.
So I went to live in Haifa at age 16, at first working at British army camps. After about half a year, at 17, I could not join the army yet, but could carry a rifle as a "ghaffir", guarding railroad facilities. My intention to join the Communists hadn't survived reality for more than a few months (weeks?). It had started in the basically artificial new kibbutz environment on mainly theoretical grounds and grew as I pursued readings in the well stocked Hazorea library. Reading in the program of the Communist International ('third") about its "democratic centralism", according to which party members (in touch with "The Masses") determined policies, but after decisions were reached members had to fight for them whether they agreed or not, did make sense to me. Maybe especially since this was while Soviet Communists had a very tough battle fighting off the Nazi assault. It was the time between the (1941) battle for Moscow and the Stalingrad one. The library had the trial transcripts of some of the major 1930s victims of Stalin's purges of old Bolsheviks, and it was obvious from the official transcripts themselves that the trials were phony; but that was years past, and "the party was more important than Stalin", whom "we" can replace later. I had made contact with some party members in Haifa, also Hashomer Hatzair veterans, but don't recall that persuasion from them was needed. On the other hand our wonderful Hazorea guide, Moni Langermann, made valiant efforts to save my soul from this apostasy. I was really eager, especially to help the Soviet Union prevail over the fascist invaders.
Even without party membership, I was quite ready to carry out any action decided on. As to ideas of my own to contribute, I was especially eager to replace a slogan that had been painted prominently at the top of the Ester Cinema building on Dizengoff Square in Tel Aviv before the invasion of the Soviet Union. It read "Away the Imperialist War" (Hal'ah ha-Milkhamah ha-Imperialistit), while the new slogan was "A Second Front At Once" (kHazit Shniyah Miyad). It would have been quite a job, since it evidently required, after painting over the old, writing the new upside down from the roof, all illegally at one of the busiest places in the country. In retrospect, it seems fortunate that this idea of mine was not adopted.
Then, at a meeting of the Proletarian Faction, a barely disguised front organization of the party, there was a call for a resolution to demand a law to ban strikes. I had found it odd when I read of the British party making the demand for England shortly before, since my left socialist sensibilities had survived my abandonment of Zionism. I asked why that was needed; who would want to strike nowadays. I was cut off by the chair, also a "deserter" from a Hashomer Hatzair kibbutz. At my second attempt to speak, I also got dirty looks from some other proletarians. That seemed to mark a tacit mutual agreement to call off any future marriage. Had I joined nonetheless, there would have been other occasions soon for removing me. So, like Kurt Tucholski, I was spared that fate by never joining. It was not the last time in my long life that I did not take kindly to the corruption of declared democratic principles. I continued to view myself as a left socialist militant, but independent until 1948.
Pending more to come, this ought to be enough to explain why I, unlike almost all other visitors, could guess that the Beirut whorehouse for British troops described earlier (March 11, 2005) may have been operated by Lebanese Communists. It would have ensured that the women could not decide to strike.
Let's begin with Haifa and the railway depot that was hit in the first Hizbollah missile attack that reached that far, and which killed several workers. While it was not thus identified in the news reports, that must have been kHiram near the north end (then) of downtown Haifa; where I performed guard duty in 1942. A few months earlier, while a member of Hazorea youth group A (kHevrat noar aleph), I had decided to become a (dissident) member of the formally still illegal PKP (Palestine Communist Party; after candidacy when I became old enough). One of the less glorious principles of the Hashomer Hatzair was called ideological collectivism (collectiviut raayonit); so if you moved toward any other political affiliation, even another Zionist, thus less disreputable one than "The Fraktzia" (derogatory term), you had to leave a Hashomer Hatzair kibbutz. That may have been a factor helping to maintain what probably amounted to the most successful utopian undertaking in history, lasting 4-5 generations by now. There are enough other stresses when families' lives are as closely interwoven as in such a commune to not welcome political dissension, too. But the other major kibbutz movement (M'ukhad, to which the Warsaw ghetto commander Antek strove) seems to have done about equally well without such definite ideological restraints.
So I went to live in Haifa at age 16, at first working at British army camps. After about half a year, at 17, I could not join the army yet, but could carry a rifle as a "ghaffir", guarding railroad facilities. My intention to join the Communists hadn't survived reality for more than a few months (weeks?). It had started in the basically artificial new kibbutz environment on mainly theoretical grounds and grew as I pursued readings in the well stocked Hazorea library. Reading in the program of the Communist International ('third") about its "democratic centralism", according to which party members (in touch with "The Masses") determined policies, but after decisions were reached members had to fight for them whether they agreed or not, did make sense to me. Maybe especially since this was while Soviet Communists had a very tough battle fighting off the Nazi assault. It was the time between the (1941) battle for Moscow and the Stalingrad one. The library had the trial transcripts of some of the major 1930s victims of Stalin's purges of old Bolsheviks, and it was obvious from the official transcripts themselves that the trials were phony; but that was years past, and "the party was more important than Stalin", whom "we" can replace later. I had made contact with some party members in Haifa, also Hashomer Hatzair veterans, but don't recall that persuasion from them was needed. On the other hand our wonderful Hazorea guide, Moni Langermann, made valiant efforts to save my soul from this apostasy. I was really eager, especially to help the Soviet Union prevail over the fascist invaders.
Even without party membership, I was quite ready to carry out any action decided on. As to ideas of my own to contribute, I was especially eager to replace a slogan that had been painted prominently at the top of the Ester Cinema building on Dizengoff Square in Tel Aviv before the invasion of the Soviet Union. It read "Away the Imperialist War" (Hal'ah ha-Milkhamah ha-Imperialistit), while the new slogan was "A Second Front At Once" (kHazit Shniyah Miyad). It would have been quite a job, since it evidently required, after painting over the old, writing the new upside down from the roof, all illegally at one of the busiest places in the country. In retrospect, it seems fortunate that this idea of mine was not adopted.
Then, at a meeting of the Proletarian Faction, a barely disguised front organization of the party, there was a call for a resolution to demand a law to ban strikes. I had found it odd when I read of the British party making the demand for England shortly before, since my left socialist sensibilities had survived my abandonment of Zionism. I asked why that was needed; who would want to strike nowadays. I was cut off by the chair, also a "deserter" from a Hashomer Hatzair kibbutz. At my second attempt to speak, I also got dirty looks from some other proletarians. That seemed to mark a tacit mutual agreement to call off any future marriage. Had I joined nonetheless, there would have been other occasions soon for removing me. So, like Kurt Tucholski, I was spared that fate by never joining. It was not the last time in my long life that I did not take kindly to the corruption of declared democratic principles. I continued to view myself as a left socialist militant, but independent until 1948.
Pending more to come, this ought to be enough to explain why I, unlike almost all other visitors, could guess that the Beirut whorehouse for British troops described earlier (March 11, 2005) may have been operated by Lebanese Communists. It would have ensured that the women could not decide to strike.
posted by solar_sol | 7:45 PM
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