JERUSALEM—The campus of Hebrew University is on the tallest hill of this ancient city. The view from Mount Scopus reveals a quiet Jerusalem, far removed from the fierce fighting in the north. Security is tight—it always is—but life and learning continue. Despite the quiet, this is a summer of war.

Students from Haifa have been arriving on campus in waves this week as Hezbollah rockets continue to destroy homes and kill civilians there. One student told me she was awakened one recent morning by a Katyusha rocket. She and her friends, following directions broadcasted over loudspeakers, quickly moved into the bomb shelter in their dormitory. After 50 hours they emerged, packed up their belongings, and drove south.

Like me, these students came to Israel this summer to learn the Hebrew language. But, perhaps unexpectedly and perhaps not, we are learning about so much more: terrorism, war, politics, and international relations. This is the Middle East, after all.

Every week, our teacher brings copies of a newspaper written in “easy” Hebrew and asks us to translate the headlines. “Life in the North Is Paralyzed.” “Hezbollah Still Has Thousands of Missiles.” “Soldier Killed in Nablus.” We have studied the vocabulary, but it is not at all easy to read these sentences. Nevertheless, the words we encounter in the newspaper and the expressions and slang that have come out of the Israeli army over the years are essential components of the language.

It is sad, indeed, that even young children know the Hebrew word pigua, which means “terrorist attack.” Israelis have endured years of such attacks, yet they continue to ride public buses and shop in malls and go to clubs because this is their home, and they will not live in fear. Hebrew University’s Frank Sinatra Cafeteria, where nine people were killed and 85 injured in a bombing by Hamas in July 2002, is always packed at lunchtime. I eat there almost every day.

This latest campaign of terror against Israel, carried out by Hezbollah and Hamas and supported by Iran and Syria, has exploded into a costly war for both sides. Israel has known many wars, and Israeli university students—most of whom just completed their mandatory three-year army service—can recite the years of the major conflicts by heart: 1948, 1956, 1967, 1973, 1982. I wonder how many American university students can give the years of the Korean War or the Vietnam War.

In short, Israel has a bloody history. Bloodshed is unavoidable when so many want and try to destroy you. This history of bloodshed explains why there are numerous exercises in my Hebrew workbook like the following: “Indicate which sentences are appropriate for ‘war time,’ i.e. deal with aggression, violence and destruction, and which sentences are appropriate for ‘peace time,’ i.e. deal with creating, building and positive relations.”

By and large, Israelis believe—and I agree—that “peace time” is not possible as long as terrorist organizations like Hezbollah and Hamas exist. The reason is that these groups invest more resources in killing Jews than in improving their own communities. The consensus, therefore, is that there will be no “peace time” any time soon.

I have spoken with students here from diverse backgrounds and political perspectives, and they all agree that Israel was provoked into war by the brazen kidnappings of its soldiers. There is major disagreement, however, about the way Israel has pursued the enemy in Lebanon. There are those who think that the government has used too much force, and there are those who think that the country is doing what it needs to do to defend itself from current and future threats.



At the end of each day, these issues and others are debated on the third floor of my dormitory, Reznik 19, into the early morning hours. Israelis and Americans, Jews and Arabs, sit in a square of wooden benches on stone—an area affectionately known as the “Jacuzzi” because of the deep, open space in the center where we stick our legs–and discuss the latest developments in the war.

Smoking cigarettes and a hookah, eating humus and peaches, we argue our cases with passion. The real threat, we conclude, is Iran. But how and when should Israel confront Iran? There are many moral and tactical questions that come up during our debates, and easy answers are not to be found. But this much is certain: We all want “peace time” to be now.



Andrew C. Esensten ‘07, a Crimson news editor, is a literature and African and African American studies joint concentrator in Adams House. He plans to stay in Jerusalem till his course ends.