Sunset at Sde Boker
The Negev. The Arabs called it the El-Naqab desert. Used to be part of the Roman empire, and changed hands a few times. Was a Turkish possession for a while then a pseudo-British colony_ a so-called British-mandated Palestine, earmarked to become part of Arab Palestine, but finally seized by Israel. It’s main city, Beersheba, a popular site mentioned hundreds of times in the bible, in the torah in the koran. Now it houses Dimona with its nuclear facilities. Ben Gurion the father of Israel had a desert home there in which he spent his final years with his wife Paula, writing his autobiography. When she died he lived there by himself, and was soon to fall prey to dementia.
Marcelle, bring me a glass of … a glass of that thing you drink, you put in glasses … that comes from the faucet … Marcelle thank you, you’re lovely. But hang on, what are you doing here? Didn’t you leave last week? Ach these lapses and hallucinations … getting more and more of them now. Marcelle you’re a good girl, you’re still here … but always thinking of your fiancé… he’s a Jew isn’t he? From Tunisia. You said he’s called Hayat. Did you know that’s … that’s … someone who makes the things men wear … my great uncle Witold was a … krawiec. You’re not a Jew, you told me. Good people the Tunisians. They’re the best of that lot. Not the Egyptians. They’re a rotten lot… that’s why they deserve Nasser. Worse that those degenerate Saudis. You’re not Tunisian? No, a proper white girl from … from … that place… that place … begins with F… not Fiji … not Finland. Capital Paris, I’ve been there of course, have met him … the big man … is he still… president? Wish your fiancé would come see me. How silly I am. You left last week. Anyone would think I’m losing my marbles. But of course I’m not. I’m still as clear-headed as I’ve always been. I see things, but that’s not because I’m senile, that’s because I’ve got too much imagination. Oh yes, the Egyptians. Asked Mossad to assassinate Nasser for us. Mossad is so useless… you have to laugh, they killed his double.
You’re still here … You’ve read my biography, haven’t you? Was born in Plonksk. No. But you read Exodus? That’s what made you fall in love with us Jews. You French are so romantic… anti-semitic too… remember Dreyfus. Obviously you aren’t a Jew. Your Hayat he can’t come to Sde Boker … but you’ve told him it’s a lovely place… with tamarisks, palm trees … jujubes. Have you tasted better? You’ll be meeting him in Tel … Tel … what’s the word? Four letters. I made it what it is, Marcelle, now I can’t remember … anyway, tell him I give you both my blessing. Oh yes, Plonksk … the people of Plonksk didn’t give us Jews a hard time… decent Catholics … Now you’re going … adieu Marcelle. Give a kiss to Hayat.
Is there a more glorious sight than the sun going down in Sde Boker? Love the sunset here in Sde Boker. In the wide orange expanse in the distance I can see my Rachel coming towards me. She never quite makes it… I drop off watching her shape getting bigger … One day I’ll stay awake and she will get here, and I will take you in my arms, will press you to my heart and we will kiss. Did I say Rachel? Of course it’s my Paula I see. All my life I’ve loved you so much, Rachel. My first and only love. No, I’ve loved both of you so very much … as much as I’ve loved this land of Israel. Always fascinated by paradoxes. Love Rachel more than Paula, and Paula more than Rachel. Believe a hundred percent that God gave Israel to us Jews, but never believed in God. Hate Arabs and love their music. A man of peace, but ordered massacres! Operation Larlar…
Would there be an Israel today without me? Without the expulsions, without the massacres? Do they mean it when they call me the father of the nation?
Now I’ve wet myself…
Thank you Mrs Aaronson … don’t know what I’d do without you. I’m not saying you’re not the best cook in Israel, but I have no appetite. It’s when the sun sets that I hear voices and see ghosts. Some still living, many dead … I need sunlight to think clearly.
Often catch myself asking, am I the father of Israel, or just a demented and narcissistic old fool kidding himself that he did all those glorious things? Am I me or am I my dead twin? Perhaps he is the great hero and I’m an impostor.
In Plonksk Jews had a good life… not that those good Catholics loved Jews, but yes, live and let live. Didn’t need to leave. I left because it was easy. We do things because they’re easy. I never understood why Jews hankered after an Israel of their own. De Gaulle told me that after the holocaust, it was a natural aspiration, but Jews wanted a land of our own before the holocaust, before pogroms. The land was ours, the Zionists claim, given to our people by God. Then the Romans drove us out. We dispersed. To Europe, the east mainly, to Plonksk, to Spain… After the holocaust the whole world felt guilty for letting it happen to us. Rightly so, they looked the other way. We weren’t stupid, it was a trump card and the good player knows when to use it. Guilt is a valuable asset. If there was no Dreyfus, there’d be no Dimona, no Israeli nuclear force. I told Shimon Peres word for word what to say to the French. Why do the French hate Jews? Ask them. They’ll deny it, talk to them about Dreyfus, I said. Don’t overdo it, but say it, no more than three times… tell them we have forgiven them, but we can never forget. Get whatsisname to tell you what the expression is in French and memorise it. They are so vain they think the whole world should speak French. Tell them, You French wish we hadn’t been successful in creating our promised land. But you’re wrong Monsieur Peres, they’ll tell you. We love Jews, we admire you. Tell them you don’t think so. Why would we have given you those Mystères to bomb the shit out of Egypt in the six-day war? That’s what they’ll say, you just point out that we gave them good money for them. Money our rich Jewish American backers are forcing us to take. Promise them secret info about Algeria… what’s that Shimon? We have no secret info about Algeria. True but they don’t fucking know that we don’t, Shimon. After the gassing which everybody claimed not to know was happening, they’ll believe anything. Ach, we can always get Mossad to fabricate a few facts, how will they know any better? Isser Harel can produce evidence that you can make uranium from sand if you ask him nicely.
There were stuffs I chose not to write about in my Memoirs. Didn’t actually tell too many more lies as such. Churchill’s books are full of lies, they all present themselves in the most favourable light. Naturally I wrote about how clever I was, how astute were my plans. How ethical at all times … I did not reveal all the tricks I resorted to. Tantrums. As a child I discovered that I could always get my own way by throwing a tantrum. Well remember putting on the anger, the unstoppable screams and tears. Poor mamusia, poor tata. I knew how to play one against the other to get my way. Their love was unconditional. People have always loved me. Always feared me. Shimon would die for me, Dayan would kill. Moshe and his eye-patch! Thought it gave him cachet. If he was born in America he’d be a gangster…
Ah yes, the tantrums. Take the Orange Commission. No, not orange. Something all oranges have. It will come. The Pip Commission. No, not pip. It will come. Also known as the Palestine Royal Commission. We had convinced our allies in the League of Nations that our aspiration to have our own land was legitimate, and they agreed to a partition. You’ve gotta take your hat to me, we were ten percent, the rest Arabs. Ninety percent… and I won the argument. The Europeans, the Yanks knew that if they wanted a foothold in that part of the world, they could not depend on the volatile irrational Arabs. It suited them to have us there. The poor innocents believed they could pull our strings and do the funny voices. Weizmann, Rothschild, Jabotinsky and the big Jews said no, we can’t accept their offer … want the whole of Palestine. God gave all of it to us. Damn it man, I wanted the whole of Palestine and all, but first I knew we weren’t getting it. Funny, is that you Chaim? You’ll laugh … you the scientist always demanding rational thinking… you would deny that you can drop in on me when you died in 52. You will deduce that my mind is going. Wrong! It is because I have such a strong healthy mind that I can receive you here in Sde Boker and talk to you. Ha! You didn’t know that? Speak louder, I can’t hear you. Reject Peel … ah yes, Peel Commission it was. If they give you a small hole, Chaim, take it, you can always make it bigger. Peel gave us good regions. The Arabs immediately refused… I would too … if I was an Arab… it was a shit deal for them … We’ve only got deserts and arid lands, they wailed. I said let us accept what they offer, I know how to get more. You did not know how good at the game of fait accompli card this crafty Yid was, eh! Admit it, no one can best me in strategy. Listen Chaim … consider a land not given to us. The partition happens. The Arabs have territory A, and we want it for Eretz Israel. You see Chaim, we have trained fighters, we have friends, the English, I don’t trust the English, but I know how to play them … they and the French will give us the best. The rich American Jews will give us more money than we need to buy weapons. We walk in and claim it for ourselves. We have the wherewithals … they will go through the motion of protesting. They pass resolutions demanding we withdraw, and we … show ’em two fingers. What are they gonna do? What are those primitive Arabs gonna do? With their old-fashioned guns, their stones? They’ll get on their high horses, brandish their swords and shout Allahu Akbar … and then what? We have experienced fighters who’ve won serious wars. We send a small army_ that’s all it will take _ and occupy the strategic positions. Who the fuck is gonna dislodge us? Herzl said no bloodshed, mercifully he’s dead. He never met a single Arab in his life, and thought they were amenable to reason. They only understand force. You’re leaving now eh, Chaim. He never could cope with controversy.
Here’s Mr Eyepatch. I won’t offer you a chair, or coffee, as I am fully aware that you only exist in my head. No, of course I am not going gaga… do I have to keep explaining? My brain’s working overtime. Ah, Shimon’s here as well. You’re not happy about Lydda and Ramle. I am not happy with these two lovely cities going to those useless Arabs who will let them decay. I asked you over for that very reason. You are my two best allies. Our Israel owes you more gratitude than they will bestow, but I know. Here’s my plan. Operation Larlar.
My friends in the Histadrut were dubious, but I knew they’d defer. They always do. Which is why I became the leader. As usual my plans work.
Saw it clearly in my head. As clearly as you see the full moon in the peerless sky at midnight in Sde Boker. I knew Moshe is a thug. He’s got the Palmach … Shimon has his Haganah … Use your resources boys! I told them. You got your snipers to carry out a few strategic killings… I’m against unnecessary killings … The object was to strike fear in the breast of those defenceless losers. We knew they aimed to defend their territory, but how? Not with their nineteenth century rifles, not with stones. We called their chiefs. Shimon knew exactly how to coax and threaten. Khwaja, he’d say, you people would be so much better off in Ramallah … mind you we had plans for Ramallah too, but first Lydda and Ramle. .. Ramallah wasn’t going to go away … Trust Dayan to unearth Mula. Mula Cohen, Bulldozer. Together they elaborated the plan and its execution. Softened by snipers, the Arabs weren’t difficult to persuade. Mula working with a small hand-picked toughies of the Palmach chose one street in Lydda. The Brits had given us a gift of unused hand grenades from the D-day operations. He chose a residential area. Go along that street Bulldozer ordered his men, break one window from each house and throw your grenade and run for cover. God must have been watching and rooting for us. So many poor innocent people burnt to death. Many in their own homes, others running into the streets wrapped in flame. I wish it wasn’t like that … Dayan’s men then went around the streets of the towns with megaphones. We don’t enjoy killing innocent people, they blared, so in your own interest, leave. Arabs are like other people. They’re attached to their homes, their towns and villages. Allah will send help, they lied to themselves. A thousand people sought shelter in Dahmash Mosque, Mula was on fire. He took an anti-tank PIAT, and single-handedly made for the Dahmash. The launcher had seen off German steel panzers galore, the bricks of the mosque collapsed like a sand castle. Another hundred dead. Next day, a long column of Arabs could be seen heading for the gates of the city, en route to Ramallah. We never got round to fulfilling our ambition to seize Ramallah. Not yet. But after the six-day war so much Arab land just dropped into our laps.
The Negev, Beersheba … the Arabs hadn’t any great need for them, too big, too dry. And they’re too lazy. I saw the potential, knew we had the means to create magic. Just a small platoon, and not a single shot fired. Only Bedouins. In rags, half starving, dirty. Worse than Mizrahis. Arab Legion? Nowhere. Never in world history was so much land conquered by such a small army in so little time with such little bloodshed… Today this dry drab desolate patch houses my nuclear facilities! Thriving kibbutzims, tourists pouring in by the thousands.
Now who’s that? I know. The poor little Bedouin girl. I really cried when they told me about you. I know that often whilst fighting for a just cause you are forced to commit unjustified acts. We do the best we can to avoid unnecessary deaths, but often a little violence is needed to stop a bigger one. Like a vaccine. I know, I know, those soldiers killed your father, but he was carrying a gun… all right it didn’t even have a bullet, but how were they to know? Their orders were to secure the territory. Think of the burden, the stress, the heat… They were exhausted… they were young men in their prime … virile healthy Jews … and admit it, you’re a pretty young thing… all right you were fourteen, but they didn’t realise this … if you pardon my saying so, with your dirty face and dirty clothes, they might have given you a couple of years more. No, I’m being dishonest, you were ill-fed and small, they would have known. Their lust aged you. All right, they didn’t give a toss because you were an Arab. We had to keep telling them you are subhuman to make it easier for us to fight you. That’s the reality. They had their fun. Not one of them protested, that was sad… not even their captain … yes, yes, he had you first … then passed you on … That’s what war does to you. I hate wars, and would never have started one if … if there was an alternative. They did not have to kill you … and I didn’t have to give your rapist the Medal of Distinguished Service. But we owed him a big debt of gratitude, people like him got us the Negev.
