Soldiers of conscience

By Barbara Sofer
May. 8, 2003

An obstetrician overeager for Pessah vacation shortened my mother's labor,making my birthday coincide with our most labor-intensive holiday. Seekingan appropriate gift this year, my daughter went through stacks of CDs in aJerusalem Jewish music store.
She came upon a disc by the American singing group Safam, whom she knew Iliked. In our home, many a batter has been whipped, many a parsnip snippedto the ballads of Safam as I cooked late into the night. Their song "LeavingMother Russia" still makes me emotional, even though the "Anatoly" mentionedhas long lived in our neighborhood.
Delighted with the birthday present, I put it in the car CD changer forPessah vacation. I drove humming to the cadences of "Rivers of Babylon" andsmiled at a song heralding the pleasure of reading a Hebrew newspaper in acafe in Tel Aviv.
Then came a song called "Soldier of Conscience." I nearly had an accident.The song, in the same mournful tone as "Mother Russia," is in the voice ofan Israeli whose father and grandfather have died in wars. He, too, hasserved three times, presumably in Israel's major wars, but this time "it'sdifferent." Women and children are the enemy. Therefore, the soldier issitting in jail, refusing to serve in the IDF, wondering if this is braveryor cowardice, (unclear in the song whether "this" means his sitting in jailor the fighting is bravery or cowardice), and questioning if Israel has theright to use force like other nations in the world.
It turns out that the song is a decade old, so my feeling of righteousindignation is more than a little late. Nor do I have a problem with thehandful of Israelis who feel so strongly about not serving in the army thatthey sit in jail. Democracy allows for such choices.
So what stirred me so much that, weeks later, this song is still botheringme? First, there's the easy identification of Israeli soldiers as theenemies of women and children. (The grouping "women and children" is a minorpoint. Children are helpless victims of conflict; women aren't frail anddependent, but responsible grown-ups.)
If Israel-friendly folksingers use these cliches, then we can't be surprisedwhen foreign journalists file stories depicting the mythical big bad Israelisoldier.
"Soldiers at a checkpost" has become a synonym for rude and disrespectfulIsraelis. Combatants who seek out terrorists in their hiding places areautomatically caricatured as treating civilians with disdain. I reject thesenegative stereotypes.
Who are these Israeli soldiers?
They're our very own sons and daughters.They are also our future. Only because of their devotion, their willingnessto countenance physical discomfort, to disturb their career plans and risktheir lives can we sit in those cafes in Tel Aviv and read newspapers. Onlybecause of them can Jews abroad feel the security offered by a Jewish state.Those of us who live here know more stories about kids clustering aroundsoldiers to ask for the cookies and candy sent from home than we do of theunhappy abuses of power. And when there are abuses, we feel them keenly.THE HUNDREDS of thousands who serve, and not only the tiny numbers whorefuse, struggle daily to act according to their consciences and to be moralhuman beings. Our own watchdog organizations and court systems function asan additional layer of national conscience. We are far harsher critics ofour own morality than anyone else. And so it should be. I only regret thatwe haven't embedded foreign journalists within our fighting forces.This week, representatives of the border police (where widely publicizedmisconduct took place) met with B'Tselem - the Israeli Center for HumanRights in the Occupied Territories. From radio reports, the meeting wascongenial. When it came down to beliefs, the two groups weren't very farapart.What must have irritated me most about "Soldiers of Conscience" was that itwas written by Jews living abroad. Maybe I'm touchy because of the season oftwofold independence for our people, both Pessah and Independence Day.Sometimes life here feels untranslatable. How do I explain thedisappointment and worry of a parent whose son is opening seder-plate armyrations at the border instead of being home for Pessah? How can I share therapture of seeing a dusty soldier son arrive with the sunset after thePessah table is already set? Because so many soldiers were on duty thisPessah - including my son-in-law - even the chief of staff, too, spentPessah at an army base. That's Israel.And then, this Hebrew month of Iyar arrives with Remembrance Day for theFallen of Israel's Wars, and Independence Day and Jerusalem Day. These aremajor holidays in Israel.One son has 13 close friends - fellow soldiers - to remember each MemorialDay. Another son passed up a helicopter ride on the tragic flight in which73 soldiers, many his comrades, were killed."Do not judge your fellow until you have reached his place," we read inPirkei Avot last week. It's easy to preach when you've never stood at adeserted checkpost or headed into a village with a faded picture of aterrorist in your pocket. The gates of immigration to Israel are open.Remaining in the Diaspora these days might well burden the consciences ofthose concerned with the soul of Israel.To be fair, I sent this group - which has afforded me so many hours oflistening pleasure - a note asking about the origin of the song. I receiveda near-instant reply. "Soldier of Conscience" was written in the earlyNineties during the first Intifada, they wrote."There were a few stories out of some IDF soldiers who refused to go intothe West Bank and were imprisoned. The song makes no political statement,but rather tells a fictitious story of one person who chooses to be aconscientious objector. As the story is told, he is very conflicted by thedecision and does not know whether this is a brave or cowardly thing to do.
"The question goes unanswered. In the end, the song is one of hope, as wellas supportive of Israel and its defense forces, who view themselves asSoldiers of Peace. Unlike other nations' militaries, Israel has one with aconscience."That's not how the song sounds to these Israeli ears. But then again, maybeI'm just touchy at this time of year.