Israelis and Alaskans: Two similar tribes?

Far apart geographically and climatically, these unique states nonetheless share many traits.

By PHILIP GOLD
Both Israelis and Alaskans are conscious of living someplace special. (photo credit: REUTERS)
Both Israelis and Alaskans are conscious of living someplace special.
(photo credit: REUTERS)
So there I was. Anchorage, Alaska, on a cold, dark Friday afternoon. Picking up my three-year-old from the day care center of a local synagogue. Except for the director, the staff wasn’t Jewish; neither were most of the kids. Nonetheless, the rabbi insisted on at least minimal Yiddishkeit. So I stood inside the door, bemused and waiting patiently as a dozen preschoolers sat in a circle and received Shabbat instruction from an Irish Catholic and two Eskimos.
Of course, that was long ago. The three-year-old is “My Son the Lawyer” now. And I haven’t gone back for quite some time. But of late I’ve been pondering certain similarities between the Holy Land and the Last Frontier.
I first saw the light a few weeks ago, while considering the light. Eight or nine months a year, Israel blazes with Mediterranean splendor. The rest of the time, the light’s softer, almost like light during the Alaskan spring and summer. In both places, the topography’s complex, and there’s usually a spectacular bit of scenery around the next curve or from the top of the next hill.
The settlement pattern’s also similar. Both places have one business and cultural center (Gush Dan, Anchorage), three major urban centers (Jerusalem, Haifa, Beersheba; Fairbanks, Nome, Juneau) and then a lot of little stuff scattered about.
Israelis and Alaskans are also similar. Both are keenly conscious of living in someplace special. And both are fiercely resentful of outsiders who attempt to tell them what to do. Most Alaskans, however appreciative of nature, have little use for zealots who would stifle all development (“it used to be a howling wilderness; now it’s a fragile ecosystem”) at no cost to themselves. As for those pontificating foreigners who would tell Israel how to solve its own problems... enough said.
Two other similarities. First, even if you’re born Israeli or Alaskan, and no matter how much you love your birthplace, staying as an adult requires more reasons. For young Alaskans, the lure of the “Lower 48” can be overwhelming. For young Israelis, there’s Europe, America and increasingly, Asia. Israel’s simply too small for many. And so is Alaska.
Second, moving to either place also requires reasons.
Between the oleh (immigrant to Israel) and the cheechako (Alaskan native word for “newcomer”), in some ways, there’s not much of a difference. Many, perhaps too many, come looking for challenges that aren’t really there anymore. Others come to salvage their souls. Or to gain or lose them. Some come to retire. For many decades, perhaps even now, younger women went to Alaska, the state with the highest male/female ratio, looking for men. “The odds are good,” so ran the cliché, “but the goods are odd.”
I know not whether young people come to Israel looking for mates. I do know that ever since I came here, I’ve been barraged with Internet ads urging me to date “50+ women” in my “area.” How they expect me to date more than 50 women remains a mystery.
And I’m not sure that their benevolent offer would be taken so benevolently by my wife.
That said, I’ve run into a surprising number of unattached older Americans. What they might be looking for, I’ve not inquired. But judging from their zesty diatribes regarding the various shortcomings of American Jewish women (and men)... enough said. Again.
Now we come to false consciousness. Alaska may style itself the Last Frontier, but unless you’re in a cabin in the bush somewhere, a sourdough (Alaskan for “halutz,” an early pioneer) you’re not. The cities are comfy and modern and over-retailed. The economy’s gone global. Items made in China are passed off as native crafts. The villages are wired and dished. And it’s easy to get to Seattle or Hawaii.
Israeli false consciousness? More complex. The endless self-congratulation can grate. So can the endless complaining. And of course, some Israelis hold, along with all those medieval map makers, that they’re living in the center of the universe, and should be regarded accordingly.
And how much of the local for-sale Judaica now comes from China? There are differences. Alaskans like each other.
Their attitude: If you’re crazy enough to want to live here, you’re one of us. Israelis evince a ferocious tribal loyalty, but whether they like each other – indeed, whether Jews in general like each other – may be debated. And while Alaska welcomes just about anybody (you’d be amazed who you meet there), Israel does not.
But there’s a final similarity. In both places, you’re never far from a sense of peril. Israel lives always under threat of destruction. In Alaska, the existential fear is climate change. The Arctic is warming. Native villages on the North Slope are being lost to rising sea levels. Should the permafrost melt and release all that trapped methane...
Well, Israel, too, would be affected. And not for the better.
The writer is an American oleh and writer.