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August 25, 2000/24 Av 5760, Vol. 52, No.50
There's politics, and then there's Israeli politics
STEFANIE PEARSON
Special to Jewish News
I got another one of the e-mails yesterday. No, not a silly joke that I've already received 19 times. A request for my political expertise: "So what IS going on over there?"
My American friends and family want me to explain to them the ins and outs of Israeli politics.
I can't imagine why.
Each morning it seems another bit of the government has crumbled overnight, individuals and political parties retreating from Prime Minister Ehud Barak's coalition falling like shingles off a dilapidated house.
Apparently my correspondents think that because I live here, I might be able to offer some insight.
Understand, I was one of those geeky kids in high school who did internships at the governor's office while my classmates were at the mall.
I understand politics. Or so I thought. Then I came to Israel.
American politics are simple. There are two parties and three branches of government. Things are pretty civil.
You can't really say that about politics here. It's a contact sport, or maybe that's too polite.
A car wreck, perhaps? But a distinctly Israeli car wreck - meaning that the cars smack into each other and the drivers get out and start yelling while their passengers get out and realize that, actually, they used to be neighbors and then everyone hugs. Then the cops arrive and everyone starts yelling again, but this time it's the bystanders at the cops for taking too long to get there and then the people in the accident start yelling at each other again about who made the cell phone call first, until the press shows up and announces that the accident was all Benjamin Netanyahu's fault and should be fixed by elections reform.
Israeli politics are, to use that unique Hebrew term, a balagan.
It means "a mess."
Israel's government is a parliamentary system.
Political parties unite to form majorities within the parliament, which is how they're in control. Barak's coalition began its aggressively downward spiral about a month ago.
Actually, natural archenemies Shas and Meretz - the old-time religious Sephardic party and the ultra-leftist secular elite party respectively - had been battling from the get-go. I still don't really understand what happened, except that it involved money and Shas' school system. Shas wanted it, and Meretz didn't want to give it to them.
Naturally, the debate was lofty and principled. In keeping with the holidays, the head of Meretz got called "Haman" and then "Pharaoh," and the rabbi who heads Shas was called, basically, a senile old coot. Then Meretz left.
Last month, a whole bunch of other parties, including Shas, bolted after complaining that Barak was plowing ahead on negotiations with the Palestinians without bothering to tell anyone about them. Then, they were even more steamed when they found out what he offered.
(And before all of this, one of the religious parties had left because government workers transported an enormous turbine in violation of Shabbat. Or something like that.)
Are you keeping score?
When I was in high school, the American government ran out of money. It didn't really, but some sort of partisan wrangling held up a budget bill and, technically, cash flow stopped. I was terrified.
Adults laughed at me.
Now, Israelis laugh at me. Apparently, they're accustomed to governments that look like a car already ravaged for spare parts.
Anyway, the best I can figure, the point of being in the coalition is that the member-parties get to head various ministries. This means they not only control the ministry, but also get to give jobs to all the ministers' sons-in-law.
Barak was so committed to this employment program that he created a slew of new ministries to offer to his coalition partners.
The upshot of the defections is that the parties who left had to give up their seats in the cabinet and the ministries they headed. Not to fear.
One morning, I awoke to a prime minister who was also the foreign minister, the defense minister, the education minister, the religious affairs minister, the absorption minister, the housing minister... oh, yeah - and the transportation minister, who left because he was about to be charged with sexual assault.
I thought this was brilliant, personally. Think of the savings in salaries! It brings an entirely new meaning to "prime minister." Why not "Uni-Minister?"
Apparently, Barak thought twice about being a governmental one-man-band and decided that these various posts should maybe be filled - so he appointed people.
Oops.
Now that flap I understood. Like in America, appointments to the cabinet are supposed to be approved by the legislature. And Barak just, well, did it.
Sort of like knighting people.
And, funny, some people in the Knesset minded.
It's a good thing he did it, though. After all, the Knesset has taken the initial steps to dissolve itself, which means that there will be new elections at some point soon. (Again, do not even try to get me to explain how this works. It involves first readings and second readings and all sorts of other things that boggle the mind.)
And the ruling coalition is now holding at some 20 seats short of a majority - but that's not stopping anyone from plowing forward. In fact, the prime minister got extra busy this week.
I was delighted to hear that taxes (Israeli taxes are crazily high) on various electronic goods - from dishwashers to VCRs - were slashed. And Barak announced that he's going to hike salaries and benefits for certain soldiers and reservists.
And there's going to be a "secular revolution" in which there's going to be civil marriage (which heretofore hasn't existed), and yeshiva students are going to have to do national service (although a few weeks ago, he pushed through a bill exempting them from army service), and the curriculum in state-funded religious schools will be changed. Oh, yeah, and he's going to write a constitution.
My head is dizzy.
Imagine if, the day before the elections in November, presidential candidate Al Gore got on TV and said, "Hey everyone! Taxes are on me!"
Would you get the hint?
And still the shingles keep falling.
Now the top two people in the Prime Minister's own office resigned, one of them kvetching that Barak runs his office like "a dictator in a Banana Republic."
This is the thing that is most amazing to my American mind.
American politicians don't talk like that.
Whatever former press secretary Mike McCurry may have thought privately, he would never have told the media. But Israeli politicians do.
Just don't ask me why.
Stefanie L. Pearson, a former Tempe resident, writes from Jerusalem.
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