TIME: Almanac 1995

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<text id=91TT0044> <title> Jan. 14, 1991: Israel:A Tide Of Hope </title> <history> TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1991 Jan. 14, 1991 Breast Cancer </history> <article> <source>Time Magazine</source> <hdr> WORLD, Page 22 ISRAEL A Tide of Hope </hdr><body> As 1 million Soviet Jews head for their new homeland, they fulfill a Zionist dream but promise to transform the nation By JON D. HULL/TEL AVIV--With reporting by Robert Slater/Jerusalem They are coming in droves, a tide of migration that does not stop. Every few hours another El Al airliner wings into Ben Gurion airport from transit points in Europe, bringing 2,000 or 3,000 or 3,500 Soviet Jews each day. Since Moscow substantially eased exit rules in late 1989, the wave of immigrants has brought 185,000 Jews to Israel, the most since 1949, when the country was one year old and Holocaust survivors were fleeing the killing grounds of Europe. Before the flood stops, it is expected to deposit 1 million people in Israel (pop. 4.8 million), enough potential voters to change the course of the nation's politics. It is a dream come true for Israel's Jews, who have feared they would become a minority in Greater Israel, with the Palestinian population growing so much faster than their own. It is counted as blessed news by Prime Minister Yitzhak Shamir, who predicts that most of the new Israelis will vote for his hard-line Likud bloc. But it is a considerable headache for Israel's economy, where housing and jobs are already in short supply. And it is a nightmare to the Palestinians, who see the influx as a new threat to their long fight for a state in the Holy Land. Native Israelis are torn between their joy in welcoming so many Jews to the country they consider their rightful home and the high cost that the influx is exacting. Longtime residents face stiff tax hikes, rent increases and competition for jobs. The new arrivals are finding themselves in lines almost as long as the ones back in the U.S.S.R. to obtain services from an overwhelmed bureaucracy. Many of the immigrants are educated far beyond the means of Israel's cramped economy to employ them, and face an uphill challenge to find suitable jobs--or any jobs at all. But it is in the political realm that the wave of immigration is likely to have its most profound impact. Already Labor and Likud are vying for the allegiance of the newcomers, and the outcome of their fierce political courtship could be decisive for the Jewish state, determining whether it continues on a collision course with its neighbors and world opinion. Acknowledges Labor party leader Shimon Peres: "Soviet Jews may decide which way the country goes." Moderates like Peres argue that the presence of so many more Jews will give Israel the confidence to make sacrifices at the negotiating table. But hard-liners view the influx as a stunning victory in the demographic war against the Palestinians--and a mandate for a Greater Israel. Critics who suggest that Shamir will be forced to negotiate with the Palestinians once the Persian Gulf crisis is resolved may be disappointed: the staggering migration could make Shamir largely immune. If his government can house and employ the immigrants without bankrupting the economy, the Prime Minister may be able to mold them into ideological hawks, dragging Israel further to the right and eliminating any hopes for a territorial compromise. But the political leanings of the immigrants may not be so monolithic. Of the 185,000 Jews who left the U.S.S.R. for Israel last year, some did so out of religious fervor, some to flee from anti-Semitism, many to escape hunger and civil unrest. Nearly one-third of the estimated 3.5 million Jews remaining in the Soviet Union are expected in Israel by 1992, increasing the Israeli population 20%. For them Israel offers the only readily available alternative, now that access to the U.S. and Canada has been sharply restricted. For Israelis, who firmly believe there is safety in numbers, the unprecedented infusion of highly educated citizens fulfills the Zionist dream. "Israel faces the threat of war, tourists have stopped coming, the U.S. Administration is less and less friendly," says former refusenik Natan Sharansky. "And yet we see hundreds of Soviet Jews arriving every day because they have no other place to go." Adds Simcha Dinitz, chairman of the quasi-governmental Jewish Agency responsible for bringing the newcomers to Israel: "Though we are saving a million Jews, they are also saving us." But first the olim (Hebrew for immigrants) must be assimilated, a task for which the government remains critically unprepared. Officials warn that available shelter will run out by March, despite plans to purchase 33,000 mobile homes and to bunk at least 100,000 new arrivals at 21 army bases. So far only a few thousand Soviet Jews have moved to the West Bank, but government incentives are luring other Jews there in search of cheaper housing. Last week Absorption Minister Yitzhak Peretz called for the creation of tent cities to help house the 400,000 immigrants expected this year. "In the short run, it's a great problem," admits Peres. "In the long run, it's a great promise." Employment is also a great problem. Nearly 40% of the Soviet emigres are trained in engineering, medicine and science, skills that could resuscitate the nation's stagnant economy. But the small number of universities and medical centers are swamped with applicants, forcing many Ph.D.s to take jobs sweeping streets and waiting tables. Few additional jobs can be created without overhauling the highly regulated economy, with its small industrial base and crushing taxes. Israeli society has proved remarkably efficient at absorbing waves of diverse immigrants, but the huge numbers of Soviet Jews may bring fundamental change to the national character. For the first time since the mid-1960s, European Jews will again outnumber Oriental Jews, reinforcing the nation's Western identity. Because most Soviet Jews are non-observant, they will considerably weaken the influence of the ultra-orthodox parties, which enjoy a disproportionate share of political power. That may explain why Peretz, an ultra-orthodox rabbi, claims that as many as 35% of the Soviet immigrants are not Jewish--a claim refuted by most experts. Interior Minister Aryeh Deri counters that only 5% are non-Jews. Angry immigrants warn that any slowdown in approving visas could cost lives. "Jews must get out quickly," says Emi Spielman, who arrived from Chernovtsy two weeks ago. The 60-year-old cobbler is still recovering from a skin graft he needed after an anti-Semitic gang burst into his house in the Soviet Union last April, pinned him down and burned his stomach with a hot iron. Peretz is one of the few politicians who has dared to offend the newcomers. By 1992, when the next parliamentary ballot is scheduled, these immigrants could elect as many as 20 of the 120 members of the Knesset, enough to break the six-year deadlock between Labor and Likud. Peres believes he can convince Soviet Jews that a territorial compromise with the Palestinians is in their interest. Shamir is just as confident that immigrants will grow attached to his concept of a Greater Israel. Many of the olim are less ideological than other recent settlers, and the idea of a big Israel is not very important to them. But they are likely to be extremely sensitive to the nation's security and repelled by Labor's socialist trappings. As the ruling party, Likud is better positioned to woo voters with money and favors. And Shamir's tough policies may look more attractive at a time when the country is bracing for a possible war with Iraq. But the Likud bloc's vulnerability lies in the party's mismanagement of the absorption process. Despite repeated warnings, last year's budget grossly underestimated the expected immigration, and officials spend more time bickering than coordinating policy. Various cash grants--$7,500 for a family of three--stop after one year, which means hundreds of thousands of immigrants will feel the pinch of Israel's expensive living costs just prior to the 1992 elections. That could produce a separate political party targeting immigrant issues. Such a special-interest party could control the balance of power in Israel's splintered parliament--and lead to a backlash from established voters. The first signs of resentment are already apparent. Last month the Histadrut labor federation virtually shut down the country for two days to protest government measures intended to raise money for immigration. Nonetheless, the 1991 budget earmarks $6.15 billion for absorption, nearly as much as for defense, and imposes a 5% income-tax surcharge and a 2% increase in the value-added tax. For Israelis, many of whom already pay one-third of their average $12,500 annual income to the government, the tax hike is a serious sacrifice for Zionism. Even new taxes and fund drives will raise only a portion of the estimated $40 billion that will be required over the next few years. The Bush Administration is unlikely to provide more aid unless Shamir agrees to political concessions, including a halt to Jewish settlements in the occupied territories. Although Shamir claims that fewer than 1% of the Soviet Jews have moved to the territories in the past year, the number is destined to grow: two weeks ago, Housing Minister Ariel Sharon disclosed plans to build 2,500 more homes for Jews in the West Bank and Gaza. Sharon's announcement heightened Palestinian fears that the immigrants will be settled at their expense. "This will destroy all prospects for negotiations," says Saeb Erakat, professor of political science at An-Najah University in Nablus. To most Palestinians, each incoming planeload lessens the chances of preserving their hold on the West Bank and Gaza. It is a matter of almost equal import to the arriving Jews. As they settle with difficulty into their new lives, they must also face up to an ideological choice that could determine whether they and their neighbors can ever live in peace. MIKHAIL PERLSTEIN Two months ago, Mikhail Perlstein was working as a disk jockey in Kiev. Now he earns $500 a month sweeping the streets of Netanya, a coastal city north of Tel Aviv. That was considered "Arab work" until a government crackdown on Palestinian laborers from the occupied territories opened such jobs for Soviet Jews. "I'm not ashamed to be doing this," he says, broom in hand. Perlstein, 21, immigrated with his parents and a brother. They share a two-bedroom flat with three other Soviet Jews and take intensive Hebrew classes. "It's a tough adjustment, but we couldn't stay in Kiev any longer. It's becoming too oppressive for Jews," he says, recalling rumors of pogroms. The family's first choice was the U.S., but they couldn't get a visa. "We didn't know much about Israel, but we knew we wanted democracy," he says. "I'm not religious, but I'll be happy here because there is no discrimination and plenty of food." Perlstein admits he is perplexed by the problems confronting Israel. "I think the Palestinians are people too, and they need a place to live," he says. Although he sounds like a Labor party supporter, he thinks he'll probably vote for Likud. "I've seen enough socialism in my life," he says. "I can't stand any more of it." THE YERUCHIMOVS When the Yeruchimovs feel homesick for life in Riga, Latvia, they need only think of Israel's Ministry of Absorption office in Jerusalem, where they spent four days waiting in line to meet the one bureaucrat authorized to handle their paperwork. "It reminded me of the Soviet Union," says daughter-in-law Helen, 24. "But there you have to stand in line for food and soap." The family of four arrived in Israel last month. Says Ella, 45, a nurse: "We left behind three flats, two cars and 30,000 rubles [about $16,500]." After missing the deadline for a visa to the U.S., they decided that Israel offered their best chance of escape. "We were concerned about facism," says Ella's husband Mikhail, 47, a doctor of acupuncture. "When we heard `Latvia for the Latvians,' it sounded to us like `Germany for the Germans.'" Helen has already found a job at a tourist agency. Her husband Igor, 25, an abdominal surgeon, and his father aren't so optimistic. Says Mikhail: "It will be very difficult to find work here because we're told there are more doctors than Jews." Despite the difficulties, Helen has decided against trying to immigrate to the U.S. She says: "My friends in America tell me that if you don't make it there you can starve." MAJOROVA AND GOLUBENKO After four months in Israel, Victoria Majorova already has a gas mask--and plenty of opinions on the Arab-Israeli conflict. "I don't believe there will ever be peace between Arabs and Jews here," says the mother of two, who worked as a graphic artist in Tallinn, Estonia. "Only God can say whether the West Bank belongs to Israel, and he's not talking." Victoria, 47, and her husband Alexander Golubenko, 59, a neuropathologist, immigrated to spare their children from the collapse of the Soviet Union. Though neither are observant Jews, they were attracted to the idea of living in a Jewish state and turned down an opportunity to move to the U.S. Like all newcomers, their main concern is finding jobs before their government aid expires. Says Alexander: "My happiness in Israel depends on finding a job." Victoria thinks she has a solution: "If politicians want our votes, they will have to address our problems, or we'll start our own political party." She is especially upset by claims that some of the Soviet immigrants may not be Jewish. "When the Israelis asked me questions to determine if I'm really Jewish, I broke down in tears," she recalls. "I told them: `In Russia they know exactly who is a Jew.'" </body></article> </text>