Taking it to the students

Taking it to the students Last week I had the good fortune to attend a campus forum at NYU, where a small group of students met Israeli indie rock star Aviv Geffen. From what I had heard, it was Geffen's idea to tour American universities and speak to students, in the wake of the Lebanon War. As he explained at NYU, he wanted to show his support for Israel during the war, even though he belonged to the far-left of the Israeli political spectrum. I was immediately taken by this man and his approach. I have come to revere those who acknowledge and deal with political complexity, rather than cling to black-and-white positions. (Not to mention the fact that I was a fan of his music, since living in Israel in 1995). I can't say that Geffen was the most polished speaker, or even the best prepared. But what he may have lacked in palm cards, he made up for in sincerity. First, Geffen gave a short speech. Then he opened the floor to questions. In his opening remarks the rocker took pains to describe how he saw the situations in Gaza and in Lebanon as very different. Israel may have left Gaza, but the Palestinians were still not free of Israeli occupation, he said. The Lebanese, on the contrary, have not been occupied for six years. Despite being famous for having avoided his own army drafting (partly for medical reasons), he supported the IDF's response there. Although the general solution for Mid-East peace that Geffen proposed, was to hold talks with enemies and show profound respect for their culture, he sympathized strongly with his brothers and sisters living in Israel's north. He had gone to perform in bomb shelters during the war, in support of their plight, and to ease their suffering. From what I could tell, almost the entire audience was Jewish and/or Israeli. As Geffen opened the floor to questioning, a curly-haired young girl shot her hand straight into the air. When called on to speak, she launched into a tirade about the history of Israel's right to possession of various biblical lands, beginning with the 18th century. It was as if she was reading a chapter from Alan Dershowitz's The Case for Israel. Although I firmly believe that particular book is a must-read for any college student, and a valuable tool in combating anti-Israel sentiment on campus, her reaction seemed a little off. After all, she was lecturing Aviv Geffen, son of the famed Israeli poet Jonathan Geffen, and nephew of Moshe Dayan, arguably Israel's most famous military hero, on the history of Jewish settlement in Israel. It was embarrassing. Most disconcerting was the fact that her mini-lecture did not address any of the relevant issues that Geffen had raised. She was stalled at the barrier of his left-wing ideology. She was arguing with him like an adversary; she was ruining the opportunity to explore the beautiful complexity of his position. Once curly-top had been heard and quietened, the conversation could progress. Not that it was particularly constructive. People asked confused questions and addressed lateral topics. Nothing in particular was explored in depth nor resolved. But to me, this is healthy. In that kind of intimate forum, it's important to express the confusion, the naivety, the frustration. If they are held in, such feelings can lead to doubt, or self-hatred. And if the group had been an audience of Israel-critics, it would have been entirely appropriate to quote Dershowitz.

Cameron moves into my 'hood...?

In a report published on TMZ the fabulous Cameron Diaz is looking for a sublet in Chelsea, and guess what? If she takes the place in this pic, we'll be neighbours!! When I first saw the photo, I thought the stoop, and blue sign for a Mexican restaurant looked familiar. So last night, on my way out, I took a photo to compare, and turns out -- it is my street!!! That's the beauty of New York. It's a city where the superstars and the super-ordinary live side-by-side, do their laundry, order take-out... you understand what I mean. The only question is, which one of us is which?? ... # ...

New York still stings, five years on

It's September 12. And in an internet age there can be no excuse for being anything less than up-to-the-second. But sometimes life gets in the way. Yesterday, I was asked to write a piece for the Australian Jewish News, about what it was like to be in NY, on the five-year anniversary of 9/11. This is what I wrote: SITTING at my desk this morning, a television in a nearby room blares names of 9/11 victims, being read at a ceremony, currently underway at Ground Zero. Family members take to the podium, to read from a list of victims, usually ending with the name of their loved one: "… the loving and loved, joyful Ruth Ellen Ketler." "… and my husband – you still live in my heart – firefighter Thomas J. McCann" "… and my fiancé, Dennis who shared laughter with every life he touched, especially mine." It's now past 11.30am; these names have been streaming out since early morning. Moments like these force me to understand the enormity of what September 11 means. I never knew a pre-9/11 New York. I first visited (and fell in love with) the city in February of 2002. Back on the evening of that fateful day, like many Australians, I had watched the events live on TV, incredulously. As newsreader Sandra Sully announced each horrible development – one plane crashing into a building, then another; one building collapsing, then the next – I was glued to the television. Prior to that, I had never heard of these "Twin Towers", which dominated the New York City skyline. On September 12, I kept hearing the popular refrain, "the world will never be the same". But as a Jew who was painfully affected by the horrible and ongoing terrorist attacks in Israel, all I could think was: "No, you are wrong. This is the same world that I have come to know, only now your eyes have been opened to it." By the time I arrived in New York, six months later, Australians had reached that point after a tragedy when it is safe to make jokes. In New York, one faux pas was all I needed in order to realize that this city was not yet at that point. And today, it is the same. The pain of 9/11 remains fresh and bitter, five years on. It affects how New Yorkers perceive themselves and relate to one another. There is a strong sense of community spirit here, which I believe was not as much the case pre-9/11. I remember my surprise the first time I walked the streets of this city. As a child, I identified New York as a perilously dangerous and unfriendly place. I couldn't imagine why anyone would ever visit here. True, in the past New York did indeed harbour a seething, dark underbelly. True too, zero tolerance policing changed much of this. But what I witnessed in 2002 was not about criminality. It was people helping people; people caring about people. Five years later, this has not changed. Thinking back to the coverage I saw in Australia that night, I remember being struck by one particular omission. We saw smoke and rubble and blackened skies, but where was the footage on the ground? What was happening at street level? I wanted to know. Now with the breadth of Five-Years-On coverage I have been privy to, I see those scenes. I see the people, strangers, gathered on street corners gazing upwards in horror. They cry openly. They scream as they witness desperate office workers, hurling themselves from the upper floors of the building to avoid being burnt alive. After living in this crowded city for 10 months, I think I am beginning to understand all this. When something of such a magnitude happens to some of "us", it happens to all of us. It cannot be avoided. It should not be. On the streets of New York today, some people dressed in black. Others gathered on street corners to remember, and sing in defiance of terrorism and adversity. As I write this, I feel incredibly sad. As Jews we know, each of these names I am hearing was once a universe. They had a world of family, friends, colleagues and acquaintances. They had a corner store owner who knew them by name, or maybe just by face. For each of those people, I grieve today.