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.