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Being a Black Jew in Israel: Identity
Politics in the Post-hegemonic Era
A few years ago, an Israeli film director named Daniel Waksman made a television documentary entitled "Menilek, Black Jewish King." According to an Ethiopian tradition, Menilek was the son of King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba; he stole the Holy Ark from Jerusalem and brought it to Ethiopia. The film shows young Ethiopian Jews who are living in the Central Bus Station of Tel Aviv. These youngsters had left home, or had no home to begin with, and had turned the station's basements and stores into their home. As gradually becomes clear, they steal to get money. The protagonist of the film is a handsome boy named Gadi, and its recurring theme is the yearning expressed by Gadi and his friends for Ethiopia. Gadi's mother is still there and his one desire is to eat the injara she makes. Injara is a traditional Ethiopian food, consisting of a pita with vegetables and meat, eaten with the fingers. In Israel, too, Ethiopian Jews eat injara, but Gadi misses Ethiopia and his mother's injara - a subject he talks about constantly throughout the film. The motif of the return home to Africa, which is widespread among black communities around the world - in the Caribbean, the United States, or Britain - is actualized in the film when the director stuns Gadi by giving him a ticket to Ethiopia. I will not go into the details of their trip and their protracted search for Gadi's mother, the film plays on the emotions, still, I must cite one of the high points of the film, which occurs when, after a lengthy journey by the group from Israel, they find Gadi's mother in a remote village. Gadi falls into her arms and they enter the house, though local villagers prevent the cinematographer and the director from following. In the next scene, they are back in the Tel-Aviv Central Bus Station. "Why didn't you stay in Ethiopia?" the director asks, and Gadi replies, "Forget it, there's nothing for me there." Silence ensues. "Did you at least get to eat your mother's injara?" Waksman asks. The youngster hesitates for a moment and then says, "Are you out of your mind? We can't eat their food - you can get a disease." In this article I will try to explain the position and destiny of the Ethiopians who arrived in Israel on the basis of the Israeli Law of Return. The majority of the Ethiopians arrived in two large-scale operations. The first, "Operation Moses," which took place in 1984-1985, and the second "Operation Solomon" in 1991. Today, there are about 60,000 Ethiopian Jews living in Israel. They are part of a community of black Africans known as the "Beta Israel," which according to testimonies has followed Jewish customs since the twelfth century. The members of the community explain their singular religious practices, which differ in many respects from those of European Jewry, by saying that they date from biblical times. Fully 95 percent of the Ethiopian Jews lived in an isolated, insular rural society far from Addis Ababa, the capital. In Ethiopia, which is considered one of the most backward countries in the world, the annual per capita GNP is $120, as compared to $13,000 in Israel. In the wake of the two operations I cited, a unique community, which had for centuries retained its distinctive character in its homeland - where they were known as "Falashas," meaning foreigners - was almost entirely wiped out, and with it the phenomenon of black Jews in Africa completely disappeared from the map of history and culture. Actually, it did not so much disappear as assume a new form, in a new land, as the article will explain. However, my subject is not the original immigrants to Israel but their sons and daughters, who were born in Israel or were brought there at a very young age. I will consider their identity and try to explain what it means to be a young black Jew in Israel. My thesis is that in recent years the offspring of the immigrants have been developing a new identity. This new identity is rooted in two historical trends, which are critical for understanding its significance. One is the power of the hegemony in Israel and the cracks that have appeared in it lately; the second is the discrimination against the Ethiopian Jews that was developed in Israel since their arrival. The fusion of these two trends has generated a new identity, the meaning of which I will consider in this article. The term "identity" has become quite fashionable since the last quarter of the twentieth century, though it also has its critics. Its importance lies in dealing with an immigrant society such as Israel, and in fact with any society that is structurally fragmented and culturally pluralistic. The term directs our attention to the fact that many of the struggles that are today being fomented by various groups are not class-based, and that many of the themes they invoke deal with style of life, way of life, status and honor, and rights and discriminations, which are directly or indirectly related to identity. Identity is relevant to the so-called "new times","postmodern
turn", or the "global era", not in any biological or
structuralist version but in its constructivist form. It is neither
fixed nor stable, always amenable to social negotiation and constructioon.
It is in fact the constant creation of a shared, mutual feeling between
people, of "we-ness," and its development is essentially symbolic.
This symbolic activity usually takes place in social networks or social
movements, which strive not only to obtain material goods and rights,
but mainly to construct meaning. In Alberto Melucci's terminology, they
seek not only the freedom to have, a phenomenon that was characteristic
of the modern era, but also the freedom to be. In any event, in the
new era we are witnessing collective action and organization, by individuals
who are trying to struggle against social definitions that have located
them on the margins because of some trait or occupation or behavior.
Often an attempt is made to turn this marginality and sometimes loneliness
into a springboard for solidarity and pride. The work is based on in-depth interviews that were conducted with students of Ethiopian extraction at the University of Haifa which is located in the north of Israel. In addition, interviews were conducted in a youth club where most of the activists are of Ethiopian origin. The club is located in a southern town in Israel, in a largely Ethiopian neighborhood. The paper is divided into three chapters: the first one describes the attempts to impose on the Beta Israel already in Ethiopia, a new identity conforming to Western normative Judaism. That effort was pursued in Israel, where the attempt was made to transform the newcomers into Israelis in the hegemonic format. The second section describes the feelings of frustration and affront felt by the immigrants, which were only intensified by their realization that the attempt to foist a uniform identity on them was based on power relations that relegated them to an inferior, marginal status. The third and final section considers the new identity that the youngsters are gradually developing. I: The "problem" begins with Faitlovitch Certainly from his period we can talk about cultural colonialism in relation to the Beta Israel, which continued in the early 1950s when Jewish institutions, notably the Jewish Agency and the State of Israel itself, illuminated them dichotomous narratives on the difference between the highly developed West and backward Africa, and between Judaism and Christianity, the relations between which were perceived by the Beta Israel as existing along a continuum, with many influences and groups, such as the Falas Mura, existing between them. The people of Beta Israel were taught about the Jewish festivals, the state of Israel, candle lighting, the Hebrew language, and so forth. The project of cultural colonialism was brought to light with the arrival of the Ethiopian Jews in Israel in the mid-1980s. The Israelis showered the new arrivals with outburst of affection and gifts ranging from clothing to candies. They were intrigued by their different color and their facial features, and were amazed at their leanness, their special beauty, their inner quiet; and as in any fairy tale, they were delighted at the "happy end": their arrival in Israel. The tremendous enthusiasm and outpouring of love should have been warning signs. After all, a discriminatory and racist attitude toward newcomers often perceives them as "a problem" or as victims: as objects rather than subjects, lacking in abilities and limited. The result is almost always the creation of dependence, but this was a case that went beyond dependence. It had the effect of plucking the arrivals from Ethiopia out of their history and their culture and hurtling them into a sphere of absolute truths. This, as Paul Gilroy notes, is one of the major characteristics of racism in England. Although the blacks come from many different countries and cultures, they are generalized into one category and thus are deprived of a specific identity. The same fate befell the Jews from Ethiopia, even though there are substantive differences between, for example, those from Gondar and those from Tigrai. This attitude was compounded, in Israel and elsewhere, by the establishment's adoption of the binary approach. To adopt a binary conception is to define and catalogue the other, render him marginality against hegemony. Moreover, that way, reality is distorted by being squeezed into only two possibilities, thus concealing, restricting, or repressing the freedoms of those whose outlook or status is incongruent with the binary definition. Indeed, public interest in the exotic newcomers soon diminished; only the state institutions continued to deal with them. The transition to a modern society espousing an ethos of rationalism and calling itself Western, was undoubtedly traumatic for people who had never seen a car, could neither read nor write, and did not know how to use a knife and fork or what a flush toilet is. Some of the young people I interviewed noted that the first white people they had ever seen were the Jewish Agency officials in the camps in Sudan. Some said that they had never heard of white Jews. Whatever the case may be, in the land of their fathers they did not meet King Solomon… but they did encounter his namesake from the Jewish Agency, who gave them new Israeli names. Those who during the twentieth century adopted many of the customs of Western Jewry were now about to become "Israelis." The Ethiopian immigrants arrived in Israel at a time of great transformation in the country. For decades, Israel followed an ideology consisting of practices and a structure of domination known as mamlakhtiyut (statism). It was based on the nation-state model, in which everything is managed, concentrated, and supervised from above. The attitude toward the many immigrants who arrived in the fledgling state was that they had to adapt themselves to the integrating society. If not, the state mechanisms would do it for them. It was a classic melting pot ideology, following the way, Gunnar Myrdal and his associates, for example, already in the 1940s reduced the problem of the blacks in the United States to one of assimilation and amalgamation into white America. However, an assimilation process is never a simple matter for either side. Gilroy notes that every assimilation into a national structure places the immigrant in a problematic situation in relation to concepts such as nation, patriotism, or historical memory. After all, these ideas effectively leave the newcomer outside the normative boundaries. The Ethiopians immigrants to Israel did not experience the Holocaust, nor did their forefathers suffer pogroms in Russia or their sons fight in Israel's independent wars. They soon reached the conclusion that "those who were there" were establishing their national identity by means of customs and practices that are pure and homogeneous. Not only Arabs and Mizrahim are excluded, so are Ethiopians. Almost inevitably, attempts to assimilate generate dependence. The anthropologist Esther Herzog described how the absorption centers to which the Ethiopian immigrants were sent created and then heightened their dependence on the existing population. An absorption center creates a bifurcated world, in which the officials who mediate between the world inside and the world outside possess great power. It did not take long before the new immigrants' problems with the Chief Rabbinate began. The religious establishment questioned the Jewishness of the Ethiopians. The Rabbinate demanded ritual immersion and totally rejected the authority of the kes, the respected religious leaders of the Ethiopian community. The insistence on immersion generated fears among the Ethiopians that the establishment wanted to turn them into second-class citizens by forcing them, and them alone, to undergo a humiliating ceremony. True, in 1980s Israel the melting pot discourse had been supplanted by a new discourse espousing cultural pluralism, the mixing and fusion of cultures; in practice, however, the newcomers were pressured to adapt to the dominant culture. In the service of this noble ideal, the youngsters were separated from their parents. The authorities effectively cast aside the so-called "generation of the desert" and sought to instill in the children the values of the integrating society, cutting them off from their past and their community's traditions. No fewer than 90 percent of the Ethiopian children and adolescents were raised in closed boarding schools, most of them in religious institutions. In Ethiopia the family, both nuclear and extended, was at the center of life. In Israel the state exposed the children m to the disciplinary aspects of the educational system. In some institutions, 70 percent of the students were of Ethiopian origin. Warnings about ethnic segregation, however, went unheeded. Although the absorption agents insisted that they would "not repeat the mistakes of the past" - referring mainly to the failures with the Mizrahim (Jews who immigrated to Israeli from North Africa and the Middle East in the 1950s) - they did just that. As in the past, the officials declared that the young people should be helped to adapt to a modern way of life and become Israelis in every respect. The binary approach made it possible to constitute the attitude toward the Ethiopians in terms simultaneously inclusionary and exclusionary. On the one hand, they were to be transformed into Western-style Jews and then into Israelis fitting into the hegemonic structure, while on the other hand, that very effort of transmutation relegated them to a status of inferiority, as it is incompatible with their culture and outlook. The immigrants were also frustrated and embittered because of the day-to-day discrimination they endured. Veteran Israelis did not want to sit next to them on the bus and they did not receive an equal opportunity in the job market. Classrooms and schools emptied out when young Ethiopians entered them, and private kindergartens refused to accept Ethiopian toddlers because they were "different." Indeed, everyday life, exposed the color barrier and brought to the surface racist tendencies in Israel between Jew and Jew. There was no residential integration, no intermarriage, and no integration in education. In the meantime, however, various indicators showed that
cracks were appearing in the hegemonic structure: In 1991, the Madrid
peace conference was held, and within a few years, spurred in part by
the end of the Cold War and the collapse of the Soviet Union, Israel
signed new political agreements with some of its neighbors. These developments
were accompanied by economic growth and far-reaching reforms. State
involvement in the economy declined markedly and a neo-liberal market
began to emerge. Israel became part of the globalization process not
only economically but also in immigration, as almost a million residents
of the former Soviet Union streamed into the country. These immigrants
were considered to represent valuable human capital economically and
also perhaps culturally, militarily, and politically. II. All that missing was a cause The huge demonstration, however, did not help much. The Ministry of Health announced that it would continue with its policy of not making use of blood taken from Ethiopians, as they constituted a "risk group." By invoking this term, the state officials intended to shift the discourse in a direction that would serve their ends. Their bureaucratic medical discourse is based on a division of reality into generalized categories and endeavors, and to justify discriminatory policy by evoking fears, in this case fears of AIDS, following the line that was presented by Ulrich Beck in his "risk society. Thus the Health Ministry frightened the public by revealing that an Ethiopian blood donor was 34 times more likely to be a carrier than anyone else. Spokesmen for the Health Ministry also noted that there were other risk groups as well - homosexuals, drug addicts, people with illnesses, people with tattoos - but the comparisons only underscored the bureaucrats' insensitivity. Indeed, the rationalist approach and the dry statistics were not perceived as a relevant argument in the discourse that the Ethiopians sought to foment. "Why weren't the Russian immigrants singled out as a risk group?" they wanted to know. "Why wasn't the Russians' blood thrown out?" However, the medical establishment made no attempt to put to the test prejudices in this connection. More than once, racism appears through the definition
of an immigrant group by certain disease and the fear of contamination.
As though to illustrate the point, Dr. Ram Yishai, the chairman of the
Society of Medical Ethics, explained that the Ethiopians constituted
a risk group because single Ethiopian women did not abstain from random
sexual contact. Elaborating, the learned physician stated that the Ethiopian
women were not afraid of AIDS and that, if infected, they displayed
no anger at the man responsible. Again the litany of familiar terms
was invoked: ignorance, a different conception of sex and death, sexual
permissiveness that differs from the Israeli norm, the good of the public,
and so forth. Probably, too, the Ethiopians were angry at not having
been given the information or being allowed to share in deciding policy.
The integrating society perceived the stranger, the other, the black
as a child or a native who lacks sufficient maturity to be told the
truth or cope with it. Interestingly, another violent episode hovered in the
background of the Ethiopians' outburst. A religiously observant Jew
of Yemenite extraction, Uzi Meshulam established a cult of followers
from the Yemenite community whose main goal was to protest the still
obscure affair in which Yemenite children were placed in foster homes
of Ashkenazi families during Israel's early years. The struggle fomented
by Meshulam and his followers was an ethnic and religious protest against
the Ashkenazi establishment. The peak of the affair came in May 1994,
when Meshulam and forty of his followers, all armed, barricaded themselves
in a house. The resulting standoff went on for a month and a half. Finally,
the police broke into the compound - one of the group's members was
killed in the incident - where they found large quantities of weapons,
ammunition, and explosives. The affair signaled the nascent development
of identity politics in Israel. True, it was a small group, but its
messages and symbols were aimed at undermining Israeli sovereignty by
utilizing anti-establishment and anti-statist techniques. III. How a Jew becomes black in the Promised Land Rumors about suicides of Ethiopians in the army were already circulating by the time of the Blood Affair. The chairman of the committee of Ethiopian immigrants claimed that twenty Ethiopians had committed suicide in the past few years. The army claimed that the figure was far lower. The main point, however, is that the rumors showed a change in the immigrants' attitude toward the army. At first, the young people wanted nothing more than to excel in the IDF, to do combat duty, preferably in one of the elite units. Excellence in the army was perceived as a rite of passage leading to acceptance in the Israeli society. Gradually, however, they realized that army service, far from resolving their problems, might aggravate them instead. In the second half of the 1990s we find, along with the suicide phenomenon, a decline in the Ethiopian Jews' motivation to serve and excel in the army. In part, the disappointment was due to the fact that the combat soldiers discovered that they could not translate their service into social mobility. Many of them found it difficult to earn a living. This behavior in part was a clear manifestation of what James C. Scott calls "everyday forms of resistance," a desire to overcome a discriminatory, alienating reality, in our case, at the price of escaping military service or even by means of suicide. Similarly, the rising crime rate among young Ethiopians in the late 1990s should be seen as a form of subversion and of criticism of the society. The social welfare agencies, appalled by this trend, viewed it as proof that an identity crisis existed and that the young Ethiopians were drifting toward the margins of the society. In fact, it is the other way around, those involved are looking for meaning and a sense of community. In their way, they are also protesting actively against a reality that had made them and the rest of the community passive and dependent. At the same time, there was an element of the new in this development, a show of differentiation and distinctiveness that shattered the stereotypical view of the community as modest and quiet. As though to prove that the youngsters were rebelling against the image that was foisted on them, 16-18 year-olds, asked how they react to being called kushi, a term that connotes a slave in their culture, replied unequivocally that whereas in the past they had been offended and backed off, now they would lash out at anyone who used the term and "let him have it," in the word of one of them. The Ethiopian immigrants displayed further manifestations of subversion in relation to marriage. Not all of them were willing to undergo the Rabbinate's humiliating rituals and tests - which were earmarked for Ethiopians alone - in order to take out a marriage license. The interviews showed that members of the community had found various ways to solve the problem. Some couples live together without marrying; others are married in the traditional Ethiopian ceremony by a kes, even though this is not recognized by the Rabbinate or the state. Paradoxically, then, suicide, crime, declining motivation to do military service, and partnership without marriage demonstrated that the second generation of Ethiopian Jews were becoming Israelis. True, everyday resistance is the weapon of the weak, Scott notes, but he points out that precisely because of their hidden, indirect character, these practices become influential. In every disadvantaged group, he writes, there are "hidden transcripts" that represent "criticism which is typically expressed openly - albeit in disguised forms." However, this was not enough for the young Ethiopians. Their subversive practices were accompanied by an attempt to construct a new identity by challenging the hegemonic structure while exploiting its widening cracks. The identity politics they practiced involved deconstructing the "one" Israeli identity, exposing its problematic nature, and reconstructing it in terms of their conceptual approach. In Gilroy's terms, this is a process of deconstruction and contextualization. Identity is reconstructed such that it is context dependent. Fundamentally, since the Blood Affair, Israeliness for young Ethiopians has gradually become an identity one element of which is blackness. The passage of time will make no difference," I was told by one interviewee, who had a clear grasp of the reality in which she lives. "In Ethiopia we were Jews, here we are blacks," another said. Africa, observes Stuart Hall, is often depicted as being a mother for all Africans. The effect is to bestow an imagined cohesiveness and shared identity on Africans' experience of dispersion and fragmentation, a feeling that there exists a permanent "essence" of the African, of the quintessential black experience. However, as Hall, too, points out, identity development is a far more active process, in which those involved attempt to locate themselves in the space of the presence and adapt to changing reality. Indeed, blackness is not the only distinguishing characteristic of this group. In discotheques, for example, these youngsters do not mix with foreign workers from Africa, who are not Jewish. In fact, quarrels and fights between the two groups have been known to erupt. The process of constructing a new identity intertwines similarity and differentiation. The young Ethiopians differ from other Israelis and resemble blacks in other countries; yet, as Israelis and Jews the resemblance is not complete. As young student told me: I am first of all a Jew, then an Ethiopian, and finally an Israeli… In fact, I am also an Israeli but different from these franjim. In fact, the complex, multifaceted identity of the young people of Ethiopian exposes both the reality in which they find themselves, but also the efforts they make to free themselves of it, and to reshape it. Terms such as franji are invoked to differentiate "us" from "them." "Them" in this context are often the non-black Israelis, especially the Ashkenazim (Jews who immigrated to Israel from Europe), or the Russians. Identity politics is largely a politics of labels, of insularity, of creating enemies. This is the route the young Ethiopians have embarked on: not because they want to convince others that their approach is the right one, but in order to enclose themselves within their world, which they are constructing out of what Rutherford calls the politics of difference. Thus the Israeli experience - "white," discriminatory, exclusionary - is sending the young generation back to their roots in Africa. Many have begun to study spoken and written Amharic, a language that they have almost forgotten. The members of the young generation are also taking African names. As one student explained, "A few of us friends got together and decided to go back to our original names. Why weren't the Russians made to change their names when they came to Israel?" They want to visit Ethiopia and they like Amharic music, both traditional and modern, with its romantic themes. The Africa they envisage is of course not the Africa they knew as children; it is an imagined Africa. It is an Africa of rhythm, of special foods and customs, of suffering and hope. An Africa that is both present and vanished, in any event an Africa of blacks only. By the end of the 1990s, black Jewish Israel defined itself as part of the African diaspora. That is a definition with a cultural and a political meaning that cannot simply be ignored. The cultural practices of the Ethiopian Israelis draw their inspiration largely from the politics and culture of black America, Jamaica, and black Britain. Technological advances in communications bridge geographic distance: consider MTV and the Internet. Cultural commodities, such as CDs, books, and magazines facilitate identification. The young people invent a history of their own. People who in Ethiopia lived on a motif of exile and longing for Zion, meaning Jerusalem, now live in Israel with a sense of exile and a longing for Zion, which is of course Ethiopia, as in the song by Bob Marley. True, they came to Israel of their own volition, and for religious reasons, and from this point of view their history is different from that of the descendants of the slaves who were exiled forcibly from Africa and transported to America. Nevertheless, the youngsters identify with the history of their "brothers": their suffering, their severance from their past, the discrimination and the poverty they endure, and their yearning for the Black Continent. Africa becomes the lost paradise. The longing to return to lost origins, to beginnings, is of course impractical, though the symbolic, too, is fraught with meaning. This is their narrative and with it they constitute their contemporary identity. In the color hierarchy that existed in Ethiopia, the Beta Israel saw themselves as red-skinned. However, as the offspring of migrants in search of their identity they now consider themselves black-skinned. Henceforth they will carry with them the physical and the cultural distinction of blackness and will turn it from shame to pride. Music is a central element in this development, as it makes possible to create an imagined reality. The venue where the "black" music is played, particularly the clubs, are places that are spawn an alternative, even rebellious, culture. One important location, which operated for years, was the Soweto Club, where one saw boys in body-hugging white shirts and oversized trousers; and girls in revealing white pants and midriffs, bedecked with jewelry, smoking, hanging around with the boys. Whatever is prohibited at home or in the boarding school goes here. Some of the boys wear their hair in the intricately curled African style, and some of the girls "attach" artificial hair to their head. Sexuality is externalized in body movements. Speak to them and they will tell you that there is nothing for them in a country of whites, that they want to be back to Ethiopia, that they will not enlist in the army because they don't feel like Israelis, and because all Israelis are racists. On the following day, in a different location, they may well talk differently. The anthropologist Malka Shabtai has analyzed the content of the music that the young Ethiopians are fond of: above all, black music of political protest with social messages of equality, brotherhood, and peace. Usually, they dance to reggae or rap. The fact that Rastafarianism originated in Jamaica in 1930, after the coronation of Haile Selassie as Emperor of Ethiopia, with the belief in him as the "Lion of Judah," helps explain why young Ethiopian Israelis are attracted also to this music. Shabtai interviewed an Israeli reggae singer named Emanuel, the soloist of the "Roots of Africa" group. "The story of the Jews of Ethiopia is in some ways similar to the story of the blacks in Africa," he said. "There are a lot of things that are, you know, parallel." We can say, then, that the second generation of Ethiopian immigrants to Israel is engaged in a new construction of Israeliness, of a type previously unknown. The aspiration to be Israeli is fused with an emphasis on being black. Identity politics signifies an attempt to create a moral space and live accordingly. In extreme cases blacks have tried to return to Africa, but rarely has the attempt succeeded Stuart Hall argues that even if there is a specific, concrete political purpose for returning, it is marginalized and downplayed as compared with the desire for identity development. He may be right, but certainly cultural politics can act as a lever for social change, precisely because it projects an appearance of no direct intervention, while minimizing its threat by presenting a stylistic and aesthetic protest. Conclusion The young members of the Ethiopian community are deconstructing
the concept of Israeliness, exposing the essence of its underlying power
relations, and reconstructing their identity according to their understanding.
They are Israelis, but from a different kind. Will the the new sociological
generation succeed in foisting its conception on reality? At this time,
this is an unanswerable question, as is the question of how far identity
politics will succeed in reducing the stratified hierarchy and discrimination
that exist in Israel. In any event, this paper reveals the potential
of a young generation that belongs to an ethnic group to construct a
complex, circumstances-dependent identity for itself. Gadi, whom we
met at the beginning of the article, lives in the Central Bus Station.
It is a dynamic location where everything is in flux, a place of multiple
identities, of ephemerality, of options to sail into other worlds. Gadi's
life may symbolize the identity of many of the community's young members.
Their parents took them from remote mountain villages in a vast land
and thrust them headlong into a saliently postmodern era. Struggling
for their future, the youngsters reveal their potential. In face of
a system of binary domination, It is a potential, not only to forge
solidarity and achieve personal autonomy but also to view themselves
not as a problem but on the contrary: as those who have found a solution
to it.
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Copyright
© 2001-2006 Center for Israel Studies. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. All
trademarks mentioned herein belong to their respective owners.
Center for Israel Studies American University 4400 Massachusetts Avenue, NW, Washington, DC, 20016-8029, telephone: 202-885-3780 Contact: rstone@american.edu or adina.kanefield@american.edu Last update: February 7, 2007 |
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