Integration
A few weeks ago, I touched on the idea that the worldwide economic recession has reduced Generation Y’s sense of entitlement. The world is no longer ours to inherit; as a result we have to revise our expectations in order to avoid acute disappointment. This point also applies to olim, particularly those from the west. Far too often, we walk around Zion as if we own the place, as if we’re innately superior. When I was coming to the end of basic-training, for example, me and my comrades were disappointed at being asked to be truck-drivers or office-clerks. After all, we had degrees from the best universities in the world. Shouldn’t we have walked into a top intelligence or public relations post?
Never mind that most of us could barely speak the language, never mind that the grinding army bureaucracy wasn’t geared up to effectively integrate us. We took it as an affront. Protest letters were dashed off to the newspapers, we got in touch with anyone we thought might give us a bit of protectsia; we tried to make a noise. At no point did we stop and think that the best way we could help the army (and by extension the country) would be to fill one of these menial positions.
I’ve been here for less than three years, so I’m in no position to preach the path to a successful aliyah, but I have been here long enough to know that the first thing an oleh should do is drastically revise his expectations. According to a recent survey, two years following their aliyah only 30 per cent of new olim are employed in a position similar to the one they held prior to aliyah. The survey applies to all olim, and it’s fair to assume that the figures would be slightly different for those from the west, but I think the general thrust of the data still holds, particularly when you take into account that 60 per cent of olim were employed in academic, technical or managerial positions abroad; while 25 per cent are employed in similar positions in Israel.
The most obvious reason for these figures is the language barrier. While there are plenty of English-speaking jobs in Israel, the single most important thing you can do when you make aliyah is learn the language. The more Hebrew you have, the more possibilities there are. But the language barrier alone doesn’t explain it. The Israeli job-market is obviously much smaller than its counterparts in Britain and the United States. It’s also far more parochial. Qualifications that might open doors in London don’t necessarily count for anything in Tel Aviv. A strong background in the humanities, for example, isn’t going to help like it might in the UK, where it’s been understood (at least until very recently) that going off and studying a subject like History or Literature for a few years before starting a profession is a worthwhile exercise. In Israel, there’s a far greater emphasis on experience-based qualifications.
What about in the social sphere? According to the survey, two years after their aliyah only 14 per cent of olim have frequent contact with Israelis, by which I assume the survey means sabras. In addition, 66 per cent of a new oleh’s friends are mainly or only new olim. Again, a lot of olim talk the talk about only speaking in Hebrew and only hanging out with the natives, but this is rarely realistic. Birds of a feather flock together, and there’s no reason to think that immigrants to Israel would be any different. My personal experiences reflect the survey: I’d say about 65 per cent of my mates here are Olim, with the remainder a combination of Anglo-Sabras or Sabra-Sabras. I have two or three friends I speak with solely in Hebrew, the rest I speak with either in English or some combination of the two.
The survey doesn’t examine romantic issues, which is a shame, as Sexual Zionism is an under-rated area of study. The classic cliché of aliyah discourse is that the key to a successful absorption is to find a sabra partner. It’s also supposed to be the easiest way to learn the language. From my brief romantic entanglements with Israeli girls, I’ve found the opposite to be the case. It’s one thing to be able to have a day-to-day conversation in Hebrew, quite another to seduce in it. Despite your best efforts, your conversations will inevitably take place in English, and your Hebrew will take another battering as a result. And that’s before we even get onto the issue of ‘cultural differences’.
Of course, the survey and my responses to it are based on a number of questionable assumptions, particularly regarding the importance of a career etc. But the findings still hold even if professional development isn’t the most important thing in your life. The point is that the survey shouldn’t worry us too much. Of course it’s important to implement projects that help sabras and olim to develop friendships. But integration of immigrants normally takes a generation or two, and I don’t think anyone should get too worried if the process isn’t instantaneous.
14 comments14 Comments so far
Leave a reply
I have friends who made aliyah and found one of the most confounding parts of finding jobs is that the Sabras protect their own and shut out the olim from opportunities. Also, I have been told that the Sabras love aliyah, but loathe the olim, which makes acclimation and assimilation much more difficult. I guess what I’m saying is that tribal arrogance can often go both ways.
I disagree about finding a partner being the path to learning the language. It’s not the “courtship” that helps with the language, but if one actually finds a partner the language will become more of a necessity. Between the couple, “conversations will inevitably take place in English,” – this is true, but the benefits are not intra-couple, but the type of society in which the oleh will find themselves. Birds of a feather indeed flock together, but if a Briton marries an Sabra – then the Briton will be in social situations with Sabras much more often than if he married an American olah, they lived in Katamon, etc, etc.
…”Sabras love aliyah, but loathe the olim”
This is not strictly correct.
What happens in other countries that experience repeated waves of immigration – notably the US – is that each successive wave displaces the previous one at the bottom of the immigrant pecking order, and is in turn despised by them.
Because the successive waves of immigration are often from different parts of the world (population movements tend to cluster together arounds cataclysmic events, hence a lot of immigration out of Easter Europe in the wake WWI, a lot from Ireland during the Famine etc.), this can look deceptively like ethnic tension – but in reality it has much more to do with the slightly more well-established group using the weaker newcomers as a stepping stone towards establishing a local identity.
In the case of Israel, a simplified geneology of contempt would run roughly like this: the Yekim looked down on the Moroccans, who in turn despised the Yemenis, who in their gentle way looked down on the Kurds, and they all together were looked down on by the Kibbutznikim; then the Russains came along in the seventies (I was one of those) to be convenient punching bags for the long suffering Moroccans and Mizrahim in general.
There are complications to this picture, in the sense that some diasporas (mostly English speaking ones) are always seen as “superior” and really stand outside this dinamic – mostly because they don’t immigrate in large waves due to crises in their home countries, and are therefore seen as “true” Zionists.
There’s also the thorny and frankly ugly situation with regard to the Ethiopian diaspora, and how differently Israeli society reacted to them than to the FSU immigrants that came along at the same time.
So it’s kind of complicated, but in any case it would not be correct to just lump all of the immigrant-sceptics under the label “Sabras”.
Very true LB. There are many advantages to dating a Sabra. Even if your discussion will primarily be in English, they will still A) explain things about Israeli culture that you wouldn’t get otherwise B) use real Israeli/no ulpan expressions around you C) Use enough Hebrew to help you learn D) be someone you can try your horrible Hebrew out on.
Now, I have met people who want to go completely Israeli and those people always seem to be doing it out of some sort of superiority. (“My Israeli friend whose family has been here FOREVER, told me that…”) Of course, that is probably not true of everyone, just in my experience. At the same time, the Olim who act as if they were in the Dominican (no interaction with the country) are probably even more annoying. In fact, I think anything other than an attempt at a balance is pretty strange. I think that balance probably shifts as you get older. At the outset, you likely need more English speakers to complain to, more people who understand where you are coming from, the cultural differences, and so on. Over time, I would think, as Hebrew improves, cultural understanding becomes sharper, and so on, that one feels more and more comfortable with Sabras. Just a guess though.
Gabriel – “I have met people who want to go completely Israeli and those people always seem to be doing it out of some sort of superiority.” Precisely. Eventually, the superiority turns into egg-on-face. The balance is extremely important, because otherwise, on either extreme – the superior ones will fail, and are might even go back to their country of birth, and the isolated ones are really just going to make their children feel a little like immigrants themselves.
Over time, language skills do improve, and there is more integration, but particularly in Israel, immigrant communities still exist, Israeli society is a tough one to break into.
I would argue, also, that the English-speaking (or “anglo”) community is arguably the least integrated. This might have to do with the nature of the aliyah – Jews from the FSU or Ethiopia rightly feel they don’t have much of a choice, and so you see recent immigrants in their teens already speaking Hebrew – with each other. I have not seen that happen on a significant scale with immigrants from the English-speaking world.
“I have been here long enough to know that the first thing an oleh should do is drastically revise his expectations”
Would you agree that the first thing us olim should do is come with the expectation of ‘making it’ – be it by doing a job we feel ‘over qualified’ for, or by living in a small apartment etc. I feel that many of us come here feeling our lives abroad will continue here and that’s normally ‘step 1′ to struggle.
LB
” I have not seen that happen on a significant scale with immigrants from the English-speaking world”
Depends when they make aliyah …
“In the case of Israel, a simplified geneology of contempt would run roughly like this: the Yekim looked down on the Moroccans, who in turn despised the Yemenis, who in their gentle way looked down on the Kurds, and they all together were looked down on by the Kibbutznikim; then the Russains came along in the seventies (I was one of those) to be convenient punching bags for the long suffering Moroccans and Mizrahim in general.”
It’s all part of the ‘hazing’ routing … It’s sad how much we ‘hurt’ each other but it continues with each ‘immigrant class’ … The Ethiopians (Falushmora) and ‘last trickle of Russians’ were getting it when I made aliyah, and now they’re being replaced slowly but surely by the French.
Avram – I’d agree with that.
Thanks Avram, that illuminates a puxxling observation I made on a recent visit to Israel… People were going on about the French this and the French that, and how they descend in droves each summer, and how annoying they are… And I was thinking “really? The French? Since when have they been the big bad?”. I guess I missed a beat on the immigrationmeter!
Ahem. Puzzling, of course.
Puxxling is quite a good word though… Shame to waste it – wonder what we could make it mean?
TheLady, I love your comment about how everyone together is looked down on by kibbutznikim. So true!
Alex, I have a phobia about dating/”seducing” in Hebrew. Just typing about it makes me nervous! I’m sure that one day, both of us will seduce the Sabra love of our dreams.
Many people seem to come here with an Israeli partner already in hand. This seems like one of the easiest ways to make the transition.
Opher – I think it’s the opposite. If you already have a partner, you often have less of an incentive to go out and create a social life for yourself. And it’s also more likely that you initially spoke English with your partner…
well, you’re all doing really well with your immigration and language skills. Reminds me of how the “German Jews” looked down on the “English Jews” when they came to the UK. All I can say from my personal experience in being a frequent visitor is that if you can speak convincing Ivrit, the prices go down otherwise you are charged Westerner rates. So at a market stall I generally hold out fruit wordlessly with some money and literally act dumb. At a stall in Akko over Pesach we were just charged 3 shekels for something, seemed very cheap.