JUNE 15, 2024 – Today our household—our hosts and we visitors—strolled from our perch above local vales down to where the Pattaconk Brook flows through the center of the compact village center of Chester. Though beastly heat is predicted for coming days, today’s weather was as ideal as can be found on planet earth. Yards, groves, and gardens along our way were in their prime, and glorious sunshine, ideal temperature, and a light stir of the air produced a heavenly combination.
Down in the town, the weekly outdoor market on Main was in full swing. The easy-going crowd were in the attire of high June—shorts and T’s, caps and sandals; an alumna/us of this college and that; a vacationer (or relative of such) to one place and another. Me? I wore my nautical-themed broad-brimmed “Captain Grandpa” hat (with back-of-the-neck flap) and under a thin, long-sleeved summer shirt, a T featuring an array of nautical signal flags and nautical knots—appropriate, I figured, for a river town just a few miles from the mouth of the Connecticut River.
Soft rock music played to the crowd dominated by Boomers but with a sizable contingent of Millennials pushing babies in strollers, and at least a few identifiable college students—wearing the letters UVM and the acronym, “POW” for “Preserve Our Winters.” In watching their hearty repartee, I could easily see them blasting down Nosedive, the most serious mogul run at Stowe.
Our group surveyed the tents and tables of the market merchants as they purveyed their locally caught fish, locally grown herbs, locally harvested honey, and homemade bakery specialties. After taking inventory of the offerings, we bought fresh flowers, lemonade from real lemons squeezed while we waited, and a box of strawberries for later dipping in chocolate. To see so many people in “happy mode” on such a fine day in such an idyllic place boosted my morale.
My morale needed a boost—less than an hour before I’d read the transcript of a recent interview with Ari Segal, an Israeli journalist, on The Ezra Klein Show. The episode title was, “Israelis Are Not Watching the Same War You Are.” By the end of the article I realized that the title was absolutely correct: the war the Israelis are watching (and waging) is definitely not the same war I I’d assumed I was watching. Apparently, Segal is an influential political commentator “on the right,” though in a reflection of the complexity of domestic Israeli politics, Segal says that “65% of Israelis define themselves as 50 shades of rightwing.”
Segal argues that the two-state solution to the intractable conflict between Israelis and Palestinians is untenable for Israel—particularly now that 70% of Israelis are opposed to it. Worse, he identifies Hezbollah, with its direct line of support from Iran, as a much bigger threat than Hamas. He ultimately zeroes in on Jordan and Saudi Arabia as the two regional powers—along with Israel—that want to defeat Hamas, Hezbollah, and Iran.
In a public square in Tehran, apparently, there is a clock with a countdown to 2040, when Iran wants Israel removed from the map. According to Israeli intelligence, the timeline has been reduced to 2030 or 2032. The security conscious Israelis aren’t about to wait six to eight years for Iran to make its move. My guess is that before Iran can strike, Israel will take preemptive action. Then all bets are off.
I realized from the interview that the imponderable Great Gazan War is beyond my understanding. The dynamics in play are so fraught and complex that few outsiders can reconcile Israeli security needs with Palestinian aspirations.
I didn’t want to surrender to the imponderable impasse between Israel and Palestinians. But . . . I saw that without some kind deep-plunge study, I’d never understand what needs to be grasped and conquered to form the basis for an informed opinion. I’ve read several books about modern Israeli politics, but I’d have to read 10 times that volume before I’d feel competent in my judgments.
In the moment I felt ignorant, ill-equipped to argue, let alone pontificate about what the Israeli government should or shouldn’t do. I despaired in my helplessness.
In the midst of the bustling Chester market, however, I found sufficient diversion to overcome despair. As a citizen, I have a duty to vote, and as a voter, I have a responsibility to be well-informed. If I cannot know all that must be known about the Israeli conflicts with Hamas, Hezbollah, and Iran; or of Israeli security needs, fears, and policies; or the plight of the Palestinians, at least I must be aware and work to inform myself the best I can.
But I should also have the right to seek and find respite from despair and delight in a happy crowd basking in the sun-splashed peace and beauty of a fine New England summer day.
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© 2024 by Eric Nilsson
