BROOKLYN, N.Y. — Some Brooklynites suffer not from disbelief at the national catastrophe but the sting of familiarity. Israelis living here are intimately familiar with the violence, grief and politics of terrorism. From their painful history come lessons of survival and perseverance for their Brooklyn neighbors and the world beyond these harrowed streets.
Moshe Dabbas, 37, who immigrated to Brooklyn 10 years ago, lives in the primarily Jewish community of Sea Gate. Outside his living room window on a peaceful Shabbat afternoon, fur-hatted Chassidim stroll the streets alongside kids on tricycles and skates.
Dabbas’ daughter Eden, 4, leans her head of blond ringlets against her father’s arm and listens. Unlike many American parents who seek to shield young ears from such conversation, Dabbas is not inclined to close doors and speak in whispers.
“It’s important not to hide these things from the children,” he says. “We don’t want to scare the kids, but they need to know the basic facts. This is life.”
Dabbas says that Americans, too, need to face reality squarely and not flinch at hard truths. Life in the Middle East has taught him that a successful terrorist action encourages further attempts. America, therefore, would do well to imitate Israel in security precautions. “The airport security in the U.S. has always scared me,” says Dabbas, who used to work at Ben-Gurion Airport near Tel Aviv. “I never once saw an El Al cockpit. Never! It’s always locked from the inside.”
Other Israelis in New York express similar shock at what they see as irresponsibly lax security. Tal Druyan, a 26-year-old native of Haifa, recalls being appalled when her luggage once preceded her on a flight while she waited for a stand-by seat to New Orleans. “A plane is not a bus,” she says softly before quickly shaking her head as if to stave off a futile exercise in regret.
The security habits of Israelis, ingrained from childhood, include constant vigilance to unattended packages or bags, awareness of peculiar behavior or dress, and acceptance of security checks at malls, theaters and restaurants. Druyan applauds these methods born of necessity in her home country, though her praise is rueful. “We ran away from Israel because of this,” she says, brown eyes bleary with unspilled tears.
At the offices of FlatRate Moving, on Manhattan’s Maiden Lane, a few blocks from what was the World Trade Center, general manager Mitchell Zafrany, 37, discusses the error of ignoring that the destinies of Israel and the United States destinies are intertwined.
“It’s not 20 people with box cutters out there. It’s a cultural war that requires not just investigation but a pre-emptive fight. Israel knows very well it faces an existential threat. What America needs to recognize is that it shares in this conflict,” he said.
Some of Zafrany’s staff witnessed scenes so disturbing that even former Israeli combat soldiers remained at home in the days of the aftermath, deeply shaken. A sophisticated thinker with a wide breadth of political knowledge, Zafrany falls silent in contemplation of how Israelis and Americans are supposed to survive terrorism mentally and spiritually. “That is the hardest part,” he admits. “No one knows the answer.”
Nir David, 23, formerly of Tel Aviv and now of Brooklyn, says Israelis survive mentally because they are immune, anesthetized by repetition of the same tragic scenes. Action, however, is a release valve for the hardest emotions.
“Our way is to do something. We serve in the army, or do milouim,” says David, referring to the annual one month of military service demanded of male citizens.
The theme of immunity recurs in conversation with Israelis from all walks of life. Dabbas, the father in Sea Gate, dispels questions about how his mother, Margaret, who arrived from Israel only 10 days ago, feels about the American disaster.
“She’s used to it,” he answers, a sentiment she confirms with a few curt words in Hebrew and a shrug. They both stress that the Israeli approach is to just get on with life as quickly and as best as possible.
While Americans may interpret Israelis’ pragmatic, get-back-to-business approach as emotional sterility, Ron Rubinstein, 27, of Tel Aviv sent an e-mail to friends in Brooklyn the day after the attack, saying that a return to normalcy is the most powerful weapon against terrorism.
“This kind of warfare,” he writes, “is intended to provoke nervous collapse. By remaining who you are, you prove that you will win no matter what they try to do to you.”