How I lost a gun and acquired a language
I awoke in panic and looked around: My weapon, an Uzi submachine gun, was gone. That was the formative incident that led me to pursue Middle Eastern studies.
By Danny RubinsteinThe Arabic language has an inferior image here, and that's the main problem of those who teach it in local schools. "The Arabic language and culture are seen as inferior and primitive," Arabic teacher Carmit Bar-Or recently told Haaretz reporter Or Kashti ("Arabic teachers: Security situation is damaging the subject's image," November 30, 2006). Has there always been such a negative attitude toward Arabic in this country?
From my experience, I can testify that in many places in old-time Jerusalem, one could hear Arabic spoken. Not necessarily by Arabs who lived in mixed neighborhoods like Romema or near Jewish homes, but mainly by Jews who had immigrated from Arabic-speaking countries. In a large percentage of the veteran Jewish neighborhoods south of Agrippas Street and the Mahane Yehuda market, Arabic was spoken.
These neighborhoods were populated by families who came from Arabic-speaking Jewish communities in northern Syria (or southern Turkey) or from western Iraq. Some spoke an ancient Aramaic dialect. But most used what is called a Shami (Syrian) Arabic dialect, and they could be identified by their synagogues, which are still standing in the streets descending from the center of Jerusalem to the small Arab neighborhood of Sheikh Bader, on whose land Sacher Park and the Knesset were built. These include the synagogues of the Urfals, and of natives of the cities of Diarbekir and Qamishli - and, of course, of the capital of those regions: the city of Aleppo, which had been home to a large and wealthy Jewish community.
In the schools at the time they taught a little spoken Arabic, using the book written by the veteran teacher Dr. Israel Ben-Zeev (who advocated the idea of converting the Arabs in Israel). Many of us knew by heart the first story in the book, about "The Grave of the Righteous Man." This is a story about a grave that, according to Ben-Zeev, was found "between Bir Zeit and Atara, nearer to Atara." Immediately after the Six-Day War I once traveled to an unfamiliar area north of Ramallah and suddenly I saw a sign pointing the way to Bir-Zeit and Atara. In fact, between them, "nearer to Atara," as the book said, there is an impressive ancient site called Sheikh Qatrawani, to which Ben-Zeev was undoubtedly referring. Students who studied spoken Arabic in Israeli schools usually didn't remember much more than a few sentences - like the beginning of the story about the grave.
Undermining sovereignty
The incident that made me want to study Arabic occurred even earlier, during my regular army service. "Coincidence is better than a thousand plans," says a popular Arabic proverb, and the incident in question took place in 1958, at the end of my military service. We were on guard duty at the time, along what was called "the city line" - in other words, the border that divided Jerusalem. They sent me and my childhood friend Uzi Raveh to the slope of a narrow wadi in southeast Jerusalem, which separates the village of Jabel Mukhaber, which is adjacent to Armon Hanatziv, from the neighborhood of Abu Tor. There were few houses in Jabel Mukhaber, and the members of the western Sawahra tribe, who lived there, used to cross the wadi on foot to Abu Tor. The path they used twisted among rocks and thorns.
In one place, at the bottom of the wadi, the path crossed over the border between the State of Israel and the kingdom of Jordan, which was not clearly marked, by several meters. Thus the Arabs who used the path penetrated the sovereign territory of Israel by a few meters, and our commander told us we had to stop this. Why? What would happen if they entered Israel by a few meters, we asked. The familiar reply was: "If you give them a finger they'll take the entire hand."
The wadi north of Abu Tor and the hill above it were defined as a demilitarized zone that army units were forbidden to enter. There were no people in the area.
The two of us, Uzi and I, stood on the bottom of the wadi, and opposite us an elderly Arab woman was descending the path from Jabel Mukhaber. She was carrying one basket in her hand and a larger one on her head, and two little children were holding onto her dress. Uzi told her that it was forbidden to pass here and that she should make a detour. He spoke a little Arabic that he had learned from his grandmother. The Arab woman told Uzi that it was impossible to make a detour because there were thorns and rocks there, and so she had to walk on the path. She also pushed us a little, and we retreated and allowed her to walk on the path and to undermine Israeli sovereignty.
A few days later I was doing guard duty by myself in a small wood at the entrance to the Ben-Zvi training farm. After 1948 the various buildings there had been transferred to the use of the Hebrew University, which had been exiled from Mt. Scopus, with its various departments scattered all over the city. In those days the building of the university campus at Givat Ram had begun, including the student dormitories; meanwhile the central building of the training farm served as a dormitory for a few students.
It was a late summer afternoon and around me, among the trees in the wood that faced the farm, there wasn't a soul. On the narrow road leading to Armon Hanatziv there was no traffic except for isolated UN vehicles that passed by there every few hours. About a kilometer west of there, on the edge of the Allenby Camp that had been built by the British and now served the Israel Defense Forces and the defense establishment, and near the wall of St. Claire's convent, there was a small Israel Police checkpoint.
It was hot and sat under the trees. I leaned back, and apparently dozed off a little. After a short while I awoke in panic and looked around. My weapon, an Uzi submachine gun of the old type with a wooden butt, was gone. What should I do? The loss of one's personal weapon was, and still is, a terrible nightmare for any soldier, certainly in the regular army. I turned to the farm building and looked for a sign of life. On the second floor I heard voices from one of the rooms whose door was not completely closed.
I was in panic, I knocked and entered the room. There were three young men there, students, slightly older than I was. One of them looked familiar to me - thin, fair, somewhat redheaded. A year or two earlier I had met him as an officer in one of the military courses. His full name was Yosef Luntz, but everyone knew him by his nickname, Luntzi. He was from Haifa and had been discharged from the army a short time earlier and had come to study at the university. His two roommates in the student dormitory at the farm were also from Haifa, childhood friends who had come to Jerusalem to study and lived together.
On one of the beds I was happy to see my weapon. I told them that they should stop playing games and return my Uzi. Luntzi answered that it wasn't so simple, that this was a crime of abandoning a weapon and I had to stand trial. "What trial, come on," I pleaded. Within a minute the three organized themselves into a field court. One was the prosecutor, one the defense attorney and the third the judge. The charge was falling asleep on guard duty, and not ordinary guard duty, but "in the face of the enemy," said Luntzi, pointing at the Arab homes in Jabel Mukhaber that could be seen from the window.
The sentencing was swift. They would give me small change and I would run about two kilometers to Shimon's small grocery store in the Baka neighborhood to buy "white beer." I ran as fast as I could, bought the beer and got my weapon back.
After that, every time I was sent to guard in the area I visited the room of the three students. They were in their first or second year of Arabic and Middle East studies, and they aroused my curiosity. One of them was Reuven Merhav, later to become a senior member of the Mossad and the director general of the Foreign Ministry, who occasionally reminds me of the field court that sentenced me. The third member of the gang, who later went on to study law, was Eitan Geva, a well-known Jerusalem attorney.
Why not Arabic?
Two years later I myself arrived at the university in Givat Ram, and like many of my friends I didn't know exactly what to study. Uzi Raveh, who had guarded with me, decided to study agriculture. He was a graduate of the Kaddouri agricultural school. He ended up as a senior official the Finance Ministry and a bank manager, who remained a close friend, beloved to many until his death about a year ago.
I decided at the time to take up Middle East studies, after meeting Luntzi at the entrance to the Jewish National and University Library on the Givat Ram campus. At the time he was completing a major paper about the meeting in the summer of 1918, in the desert, between the Hashemite prince Faisal, son of Hussein, the leader of the Arab revolt, and Zionist leader Chaim Weizmann, after which an agreement of cooperation was signed between the Arab country and the Jewish national home that would be established in Palestine. Luntzi served in senior positions in the defense establishment. He died young of an illness in 1983. His last position was commander of the Gaza Strip, with the rank of brigadier general.
Many of the students who now choose to take up Arabic and Middle East studies have practical intentions. They want to serve or work in the intelligence and defense establishments, the Foreign Ministry or research institutions. Education Ministry statistics indicate that in recent years there has been a decline in the number of high-schoolers taking matriculation exams in Arabic (at the highest level - 5 units). At the start of the present academic year at the Hebrew University, several students were asked why they had decided to study English, French, German, Japanese and Chinese, instead of Arabic. One of them replied that studying a foreign language is like acquiring a key to a new house containing treasures of science and culture. Anyone studying Arabic also acquires a key, but soon discovers that it is the key to an empty house. What can one do with Arabic, he asked, adding: be a scholar of the Koran or a spy in the Shin Bet security services?
One of the factors influencing the decline in Arabic studies is the political situation. The greater the violence and terror attacks, the greater the reluctance to study Arabic. It even happens that those who do know Arabic don't like to flaunt their knowledge. After all, this is the language of the enemy. During the dramatic visit of the late Egyptian president Anwar Sadat in Jerusalem, I was surprised to discover how many of the politicians and MKs at the time knew Arabic. Most of them were natives of Iraq who had previously been reluctant to demonstrate their knowledge of the language, but with the advent of such an honored guest, when there was hope for peace and the hostility and hatred declined, it was suddenly convenient and pleasant to demonstrate their knowledge of the language of the neighbors, whom everyone hoped would become friends instead of enemies.
Today I often pass near the wall of St. Claire's convent on Hebron Road on the way to the famous Sherover Promenade that overlooks the narrow wadi beneath Jabel Mukhaber. A park called the Peace Forest was built in the wadi. Opposite the promenade is Rachel Yanait's agricultural training farm, looking empty and deserted. Leading up to it is a narrow road filled with weeds, evidence of the fact that it is not well traveled. Entry to the neglected farm is forbidden. Beyond the gate and the fence one can see piles of stones and thorns, and several dilapidated buildings. The large neighborhood of East Talpiot was built beyond the farm.
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I speak the Iraqi Arabic. But I never thought that it was as ancient as you said it is. Also, I found out that Christian Iraqis, who like to be known as Chaldeans and I, can converse very well in Arabic and understand each other. Some Muslims friends from Iraq refer to my Arabic as Baghdadi arabic. They can understand me better than I can understand them. So you can imagine I am uncertain about anything now. Incidenatally, my parents used to write in what they called Rashi, which is Hebrew letters but arabic pronounciation. Regards.
I wish we had a few more such articles. Older Arabian Jews from Iraq still speak a mixture of Hebrew and ancient 12th century Arabic. Since both languages are similar, it is mistaken for Arabic by many. However, the Jewish culture contained in its Hebrew gives it a profoundly Jewish resonance. Incidently, contemporary Iraqi Muslims have difficulty understanding it. One should note that this language has been spoken and developed by Arabian Jews since the 7th century, and therefore they own it as much as they own Hebrew in Israel. It is a Jewish language, as much as is Yiddish. Yiddish is also a language with a mixture of Hebrew which goes beyond just that, because it is established within the cultural ambience of Jewishness.
After all, Haaretz decided to publish your spiteful remarks.
What's all this talk on this forum? Can you compare the beauty of the Italian language with Arabic? And in terms of vocabulary, is Arabic really more rich than Greek or Russian? Hello, people!
There is no 'revoweling' of Hebrew; Modern standard Hebrew, as created by Eliezer ben Yehuda, was based directly on the old Jerusalem Sephardic Hebrew, NOT ON ASHKENAZI HEBREW! And by the way, I may be the odd one out on this forum, but to me Hebrew is a far more beautiful language than Arabic. But that's just me.
Modern Hebrew was not revoweled, no way. It was painstakingly and carefully reconstructed based on Biblical and Mishnaic Hebrew, and based on the vocalization of the old Sephardic pronunciation in Jerusalem, NOT on European languages. Arabic is not more similar to ancient Hebrew...don't fall for that one, because it is easily disproven.
Palestinian Arabs citizens in Israel? Jewish Arabs? WHAT are you talking about? Stop spreading Arab imperialism on this website. It's Arab Israelis and Sephardic Jews.
The Biblical Hebrew, the dialect of Canaanite spoken by the Israelites, died as a spoken language long before the 2nd century BCE after the Israelites were vanquished by the Babylonians. The decedents of the Israelites, both tribal and religious, adopted Aramaic as their daily language. It was the Masoretes, who spoke Aramaic or Arabic on daily basis, who later re-vocalized and re-accented the received texts of the Hebrew bible, calling on their mother tongues to help in these pursuits. They are the ones who devised the system of masorahs. Much was certainly lost in the process. Modern Hebrew is a re-vocalization, through mostly European tongues, of an Aramaic re-vocalization of a dialect of ancient Canaanite that was only received in written form. Arabic is the natural progeny of this long lost language.
I think Israel must end school segregation between Arabs, Secular Jews, and Religious Jews. Everyone should be enrolled in national bilingual (Hebrew and spoken Arabic) secular schools where the students together study Modern Standard Arabic and English. By keeping children segregated they only foster stereotypes and ignorance of the other groups. This kind of stereotyping and blatant racism is evident in many of the comments I read in this blog. It is so sad to me, especially that tomorow is Martin Luther King Jr. Day, that in this world such racist remarks can still be heard.
Thank you Bandar - an interesting one. Something to think about too.... I have added it to my list.
Modern Hebrew, on the other hand, is an artificial language, a recent creation, based on a long extinct language, re-voweled, re-read, and infused with a huge dose of Arabic an a mesh-mash of European languages. Hal Lancino Where did you hear, read or imagine such nonsense??? Hebrew ceased to be a spoken language after the 2nd century, but remained a major literary language. Letters, contracts, commerce, science, philosophy, medicine, poetry, and laws were written in Hebrew. Once revived, it lacked many modern words, which were incorporated into the language.
Another relevant proverb for Arabs and Jews:- Jarak Elquareeb ahsan min akhouk elbaeed. A next door neighbor is better than a faraway brother.
Thanks najdt - you win! [Also, I was really curious about what this proverb would sound like in Arabic - so you helped me out]. The floor is still open for any other favorite popular Arabic proverbs or sayings anyone may know.
You say: "Modern Hebrew, on the other hand, is an artificial language [...]". And your point is ?
I speak English, French, Hebrew, Farsi and Arabic. And Honesty, Arabic is the richest of these languages. It is just impossible to hear the inimitable Quranic rythem without shedding one's tears. Arabic is an angelic language..one of the best if not the best.
Arabic is a wonderful extremely rich language. It has a very large vocabulary and it is the world's oldest continuously spoken language, practically unaltered for more than 1500 years. Ironically, it is very close to ancient Hebrew. Modern Hebrew, on the other hand, is an artificial language, a recent creation, based on a long extinct language, re-voweled, re-read, and infused with a huge dose of Arabic an a mesh-mash of European languages.
Rubba soudfaton kheiro min alfa me3aad
"Please don't cut my head off". I am sure, Mr. Rubinstein knows it well.
My Palestinian Grandparents both spoke fluent Hebrew. My Grand mother was raised in Jerusalem Musrara next to Moasherim, and my Grand father was raised in BeniHelel street near Jaffa Road. I wish I could speak hebrew like they did. One day after 1967, their Jewish neighbors came to visit them in Beit Hanina, and the conversation was half Arabic nd half Hebrew. A month later, Israel imposed a curfew, and my uncle went to buy bread, when an Israeli Army vehicle spotted him, he went runing back. Just when they aimed their riffles to shoot at him, my Grandmother, begged in Hebrew the Army officers not to shoot, and she was successful. Hebrew saved my uncle from being shot. Languages are good bridge to narrow differences between people. I wish more Israeli Jews learn Arabic, and more Palestinians learn Hebrew.
I studied Arabic for many years. I even speak Arabic with my Moroccan wife. But overall, I would have prefered to learn another language today. Why? I like the Arabic language and I do not think of it as "inferior," but the truth is the truth, unless one makes some kind of career involving it, in academia, in diplomacy, in journalism, or in intellegence, it does open a door to an empty room. In other words, you are in the room, but there is nothing for you to say. In the mainstream Arabic culture, there is no room for engagement or an exchange of ideas and developed mutual understanding. There is their way of thinking, or no way. It is very difficult to become truly competent and fluent in the Arabic language because of its large vocabulary and the "bottomless pit" of possibilities which are the infinite varieties and variations of the spoken language.
Dear Readers, let's have a challenge: who will be the first to provide the authentic Arabic version [in English or Arabic letters] of the saying - which Rubinstein uses here - "coincidence is better than a thousand plans". For second place, you may provide the Arabic and English of ANY popular Arabic proverb or saying. Good luck!!! ps - I am studying Arabic so have a bit of an academic interest in this as well. Thank you.
Once my Hebrew and Yiddish are fluent in speaking, understand, reading and writing (especially the latter will still take some time), I am also going to learn Arabic. We need to speak Arabic if we want a peaceful future here. There has to be trade. Trade means peace. Peace means trade.
Especially for Terry. This paper was a popular Russian daily called Novosti. The article was entitled "how to force them to leave"...all about castrating the Arab population as a means to fight terrorism or lowering the birth rate that would be an incentive to depart. Hardly anyone in the Russian community winked an eye (it was perfectly acceptable) until it was publicly made known. In fact, Haaretz carried the story. The Editor claimed he wasn't aware of what the author wrote but only checked for grammatical errors. The severe punishment was that the Editor was only suspended for three months as opposed to any Arab paper in Israel that would have been permanently shut down for advcating the same thing. Now I wonder what the response would have been if such a paper in New York City called for the castration of Jews or anywhere else? Better pay attention to what's going on in your own backyard which is nothing to be proud of.
Better pay attention to what Israeli Jews are saying about Arabs, and some of the Rabbis in their sermons, and even have the gall to do in English which needs no translation. Take a look first at Israel's own racist laws and policies. Take a look at the vile racist Avigdor Lieberman who is only vocalizing the way many Israelis feel. How on earth could co-existence be possible under those circumstances.
When I lived in Israel at a time, I had many Arab friends also, and it was the language that I found quite beautiful and which I can speak, although far from fluently, but certainly enough that I can go anywhere and feel comfortable to get around. I also found the Arabic people as warm as their language once one gets to know it, their music, and their wonderful hospitality is something which I've found unmatched anywhere. That's what actually made Israel outstanding to me. It is also the language of Middle Eastern Jews who still use it, especially those who live here in New York City. Their attachment is also to Arabic music. People like Daniel who make these ridiculous broad generalizations come up sounding like those who make the same ridiculous broad generalisations about themselves.
Terry - If more Israelis understood what Arabs really say, in their media, political speeches, .....no one would believe that coexistance is possible. I disagree - with over 500 arab channels floating down from satellites and a multitiude of newspapers, radio stations and Internet blogs in arabic..I think israelis would be surprised to discover that an alternative arab culture other than the one highlighted to keep Israelis feeling threatened and agressive exists. In fact I think arab media, which I beleive would surprise many by its diversity of opinion, openeness to self-examination and celebration of life (as opposed to the culture of death predominant on the other side of the spectrum) could be a solid bridge for the two peoples. On that note..maybe israelis can lobby their goverment to broadcast on satellite more of their channels (in adition to Ch. 33 - which kinda sucks) and maybe more of us will pick up hebrew too...
Thanks for your article. I immigrated to Israel in 1972; I choose Jerusalem as my city and since then my life and most of my work is concentrated there. When I came to the city it was immediately obvious that this is a place which belongs to both Arabs and Jews and I decided that I should study Arabic if I want to be integrated in my new space. I became fluent in Arabic, I had a wonderful teacher in Beit Hanina, I was able to read and write. And I was and I am very proud of my abilities which helped me also in my work. (Town planning and architecture). But I am fluent in seven languages. And indeed each one of them is a golden open gate to a wonderful different world. One comment, the approach to Arabic in our schools is in my humble opinion wrong; the start should be spoken Arabic and not classic Arabic. Lou Gelehrter, Jerusalem
I'm speak Arabic but since I'm in Israel, I speak only English, sometimes French, rarely Spanish, and very poor Hebrew. But what use is Arabic? Our schools are not the best & students don't even learn proper Hebrew. We need more English, Chinese is a language with a future, even Spanish has a practical use in later life. But Arabic? There is one practical use, however. If more Israelis understood what Arabs really say, in their media, political speeches, in the sermons in mosques, even in every day conversation, no one would believe that coexistance is possible. But that wasn't your point, was it?
Arabic is probably one of the richest and most beautiful languages. And the Arab people are wonderful, kind and honest, once divorced from politics and religion. I should know. I am an Israeli, Jewish Arab, speak the language, eat the Arab food and I have lived among the Arabs. You remind me of my ex-father-in-law. Only western, and especially Americans have the best of everything and are the most civilized. He just did not get it that westerners have ice running through their veins and looked down on other people who did not speak, behave, eat or think like he did.
Seems very dumb not to at least speak the language so you know if they are swearing at you. Marilyn. All the swear words in Hebrew come from Arabic. So you don't need to worry about whether we undersatnd them or not. But thanks for your concern. Cheers.
How beautiful you take us back to your academic years at Hebrew U, the earlier days of divided Jerusalem and the interesting people you've encountered. I hope the younger generations in Israel appreciate the sensitivities of the times during these early years of Israel's beginnings and are also engaged with these stories. I very much, like others who are children of Arabic, Hebrew and English speaking parents, feel totally indulged to be around the elderly Iraqi Jewish community when they get together - the synagogue, a simcha, and meeting at the mall. There's always a smile on my face when they converse, and I don't know if it's the sarcasm in their speech or the marked difference in style to the other languages, whether Hebrew or English.
Haaretz and its writers should swtich to arabic and bow to mecca 5 times a day. When they demand that you stone your raped daughters to death, maybe you'll miss other languages. Haaretz is pathetic. Kirk out.
Here in Australia our right wing, war mongering, anti asian and anti arab government suppress anything arabic as if it had the plague while they are of course occupying an arabic country. They have almost entirely cancelled Asian language classes even though we are surrounded by nearly 2 billion Asians. I guess the stupid "west' as we like to think of ourselves really are stupid. Arabic is an ancient language spoken by hundreds of millions of people where the Israeli's have plonked themselves against the wishes of the arabs. Seems very dumb not to at least speak the language so you know if they are swearing at you.
I think the article has it wrong. The language of people who wish me dead would never interest me, at all...
Look, not everybody has time to plow through all the articles, I thought it was a great article and surprising to me has an American Jew. I would have thought that the study of arabic would be standard practice in israel. Every Israeli should be fluent in Hebrew, Arabic, and English. And I say this has a right wing guy who contributed to Meir Kahanes crew. I don't care if peace comes tomorrow or if there is another century of war. It can only be to Israel's benefit if they can converse with the guys on the other side. Whether its in between shooting or hopefully doing business sometime in the future.
It is very unfortunate how Arabic language and culture has been repressed in Israel being that Israel sits in the heart of the Arab world, and Israelis have little interest in the world around them. It is ironic, considering that Israel is about 70% Arab. (20% Palestinian Arab plus the roughly 50% of the Jewish population who are Jewish Arabs). Arabic language usage will increase after peace one day, God willing as Israel will have more business and exposure with the larger Arab world, Lebanese music videos, Egyptian cinema, and international Arabic news media. As Arabic is an international language and one of the working languages of the United Nations, Israelis will find it to be very useful and economic.
So nobody has anything to say about it on this talkback - but I really enjoyed it.
When I lived in jerusalem in the 80s I lived in nachlaot, one could hear alot of arabic being spoken between the old ladies,as well many of the craftsmen I worked with spoke Arabic and israeli slang had a good dose of it too. Now I guess things have changed as the older generation who spoke arabic fades.Though i am not fluent at all in Arabic I picked up enough to make myself understood on the essential points. If I wasnt so busy with other things I would love to continue to learnArabic.It is a great and lovely language, with such an interesting way to express oneself.I like it.