Sickened by the tragedies of October 7, I ached to connect and understand the how and why. I made a personal connection with an Israeli woman who, until recently, served as a reservist in the elite 8200 Intelligence Unit of the Israel Defense Forces (IDF).
I used my love of language to meet Sophie, a pseudonym given to protect her privacy, a 33-year-old lawyer who is perfectly fluent in both Arabic and Hebrew, and almost so in English. I met her through Sandra Effron, founder of Speak English Together, SET, a nonprofit which pairs native with non-native English speakers, globally, to improve English language skills through on-line conversation.
For approximately four months, Sophie and I have gotten to know each other through weekly calls on Zoom. She reminds me so much of my own young-adult kids who fiercely crave personal independence while simultaneously seeking acceptance, love, and validation. Each time we speak, she impresses me.
When Sophie and I met, our conversations started cautiously as though we were human onions peeling away at the layers of our disparate personalities and lives. We treaded lightly out of mutual respect. We discussed our families, friends, loves, and daily matters. We agreed that even in the gravest of times, these connections are as vital to the human being as water is to the earth or air is to the planet.
Although I intend to help Sophie expand her use of sophisticated vocabulary and idiomatic expressions, she is enthusiastic about sharing her native Hebrew terms and expressions. For instance, she tells me, reserves in Hebrew is pronounced “me-loo-eem.”
Another term high on Sophie’s priority list is, “industrial silence,” which she describes as the act of performing a job function smoothly without problems. An example of this is documented by New York Times reporters Bergman and Goldman, on November 30, (“Israel Knew Hamas’s Attack Plan Over a Year Ago”), in which the colonel from Unit 8200 dismissed the damning and dangerous document from a female intelligence officer. His rejection of her report represents a classic case of industrial silence.
Polyglot powers
Even as a child, Sophie was remarkable. She began her study of Arabic as a middle-school student. She was one of 12 out of 200 students who selected to study Arabic rather than the pretty romance language of French, the other option. Of those 12 students, four of them have served in intelligence.
Prior to Sophie’s engagement as an IDF reservist, she was a legal data analyst in Tel Aviv. She is also a sister, daughter, and friend to many. She keeps fit and healthy by marathon training. She attends many rallies on behalf of the hostages. She loves her family, visiting them on Shabbat as her schedule allows; and she attended her sister’s wedding soon after October 7.
After roughly three months of unwavering intensity as an intelligence reservist, Sophie admits to needing personal recharging. Still, I never hear complaints, see self pity, or sense a moment of weakness. She only displays a quick wit and an inherent compassion. Though she lives in the middle of a country devastated by war, she asks me on every call, “How are you? How was your week?” I find it incredible, and often feel guilty for responding.
Occasionally, in an attempt to make sense of that which is senseless, I must confess to asking a plethora of questions. While she never divulges an iota of covert data, one day when my persistence may have exceeded normal limits, Sophie recommended I read the riveting memoir of Mosab Hassan Yousef, called Son of Hamas, published in 2010.
The book is the compelling story of Yousef, the son of a highly followed Hamas leader, and his decade-long experience as an informant to the Israeli Shin Bet officer, Gonen Ben-Itzhak. Their collaboration saved countless lives and exemplifies the potential of enemies working together against the backdrop of a history that includes centuries of grossly oppositional and bellicose sides.
I pepper Sophie again, “How could the current intelligence lack the strength and vigor that such a short time ago seemed so vital?” Instantaneously, Sophie defends her IDF unit to remind me that the intelligence was indeed there, but was rebuffed.
One piece of history that sadly remains alive and well is the ever-revolving saga of attack, revenge, and reverse. Sophie explains this situation as the “blood circle,” the relentless cycle of “they hate us and we hate them.”
I ask, “When does this cycle stop?” Without hesitation, she answers, “Never.”
As if the ongoing news were not enough, Sophie notes another tragic fallout from the attacks on the Supernova music festival and the kibbutzim on October 7. Many of the women and girls who were violently raped have sustained unwanted pregnancies. Those free in Israel have been able to abort, while those in captivity cannot and by now may have sustained complications. Timing is crucial for these hostages to be brought home.
Even Sophie searches for answers to “Why?” She delves into the Israeli documentary series, Enemies, which highlights such foes of Israel, as Ali Khamenei, Hassan Nasrallah, Islamic Jihad, and Bashar Assad, among others. For her, as an Israeli citizen, the search for these origins and factors of hate is existential.
I recently saw the Broadway play, Prayer for the French Republic, in which generations of a Parisian family are forced to face antisemitism post World War II all the way through 2017. A popular refrain of this play is, “Why do they hate us so much?” It seems Jews everywhere ask ourselves this question constantly until we are blue in the face, yet we can never seem to come to a conclusion.
Golda Meir is famously known for saying, “We will only have peace with [them] when they love their children more than they hate us.”
Yousef writes at the conclusion of his book, “Truth and forgiveness are the only solution for the Middle East. The challenge, especially between Israelis and Palestinians, is not to find the solution, the challenge is to be the first courageous enough to embrace it.”
People such as Sophie represent our future. Her keen intellect and warm compassion give me hope. At the height of her adolescence, she already intuited that language is a window into the lives and culture of her bordering neighbors; to know their mother tongue is to know their inner soul, just by listening.
The truth is that “hate” is unsustainable, in any language.
Language must be exalted to its rightful perch: the ability to negotiate. The only way for this to occur is that all sides acknowledge the other’s right to exist, and agree to do so in peace. Without that recognition, language is reduced to nothing more than a vicious cycle of ambush and rubble.
The writer has a Master’s Degree in Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages, TESOL, from Hunter College, New York City.