Here I Am by Jonathan Safran Foer(88)
SIEGEL: Why is that?
HOROWITZ: We’ve had other things on our minds.
SIEGEL: The conflict.
HOROWITZ: Conflict? We should have been so lucky to have only one conflict. Most buildings are made of concrete—very rigid, unforgiving engineering. Buildings like Israelis, you might say. It’s served a booming population well, but couldn’t be worse-suited to the current situation.
SIEGEL: What about the West Bank?
HOROWITZ: What about it?
SIEGEL: How will its structures respond to such an earthquake?
HOROWITZ: You’d have to ask a Palestinian civil engineer.
SIEGEL: Well, we’ll certainly try to— HOROWITZ: But since you’re asking me, I have to imagine it has been completely destroyed.
SIEGEL: I’m sorry, what has?
HOROWITZ: The West Bank.
SIEGEL: Destroyed?
HOROWITZ: All of the structures. Everything. There’s going to be a lot of fatality.
SIEGEL: In the thousands?
HOROWITZ: I’m afraid that as I speak these words, tens of thousands are already dead.
SIEGEL: And I am sure you want to get to your family, but before letting you go, could you offer some possibilities for how this will play out?
HOROWITZ: What time frame are you asking about? Hours? Weeks? A generation?
SIEGEL: Let’s start with hours.
HOROWITZ: The next few hours will be pivotal for Israel. It’s all about prioritizing now. Electricity is out countrywide, and will likely remain out, even in the major cities, for several days. As you can imagine, military needs will be the first priority.
SIEGEL: I’m surprised to hear you say that.
HOROWITZ: You are Jewish?
SIEGEL: I’m not sure why that’s relevant, but yes, I am.
HOROWITZ: I’m surprised that a fellow Jew would be surprised. But then, only an American Jew would question why being Jewish is relevant.
SIEGEL: You’re concerned for Israel’s safety?
HOROWITZ: You aren’t?
SIEGEL: Mr. Horowitz—
HOROWITZ: Israel’s tactical superiority is technological, and that has been greatly diminished by the quake. The destruction will cause desperation and unrest. And this will develop—either organically or deliberately—into violence. If it hasn’t already happened, we’re soon to see masses of people flooding the borders into Israel—from the West Bank, Gaza, Jordan, Lebanon, Syria. I don’t have to tell you that Syria already has a refugee problem.
SIEGEL: Why would they come to Israel, a country most in the Arab world view as a mortal enemy?
HOROWITZ: Because their mortal enemy has first-rate medical care. Their mortal enemy has food and water. And Israel is going to be presented with a choice: let them in, or don’t. Letting them in will require sharing limited and precious resourses. For others to live, Israelis will have to die. But not letting them in will involve bullets. And of course Israel’s neighbors will have a choice, too: take care of their citizens, or take advantage of Israel’s sudden vulnerability.
SIEGEL: Let’s hope the shared tragedy brings the region together.
HOROWITZ: Yes, but let’s not be na?ve while we hope.
SIEGEL: And what about the long term? You mentioned the generational view?
HOROWITZ: Of course, no one can know what will happen, but what Israel is facing here is something far more threatening than ’67, or ’73, or even Iran’s nuclear threat. There is the immediate crisis of needing to secure the country, rescue citizens, get food and medical care to those who need it, repair the electricity, gas, water, and other utilities quickly and safely. Then there is also the work of rebuilding the country. This will be a generational challenge. And finally, and perhaps most daunting, will be the work of keeping Jews here.
SIEGEL: Meaning?
HOROWITZ: A young, ambitious, idealistic Israeli has many reasons to leave Israel. You have an expression, “The straw that broke the camel’s back.”
SIEGEL: Yes.
HOROWITZ: Thousands of buildings have fallen on the back.
JACOB: Vey iz mir.
Jacob hadn’t meant to say anything, and he certainly hadn’t meant to say vey iz mir. But then, no one ever means to say vey iz mir.
“This is bad,” Irv said, shaking his head. “Really, really bad in about a million ways.”
Jacob’s mind teleported to apocalyptic tableaux: the ceiling collapsed onto the trundle in Tamir’s old bedroom; women in wigs trapped under slabs of Jerusalem stone, the ruins of the ruins of Masada. He imagined the marble bench in Blumenberg Park, now shattered stone. It must be a catastrophe, he thought, but he meant it in two entirely different ways: that it certainly had to be, and that he wanted it to be. He couldn’t acknowledge the second meaning, but he couldn’t deny it.
Tamir said, “It’s not good. But it’s not so bad.”
“Do you want to call home?”
“You heard him. The lines are knocked out. And my voice won’t help anyone.”
“Are you sure?”
“They’re fine. Absolutely. We live in a new construction. Like he said, it’s engineered for this kind of thing—better than any of your skyscrapers, believe me. The building has a backup generator—two, I think—and in the bomb shelter there’s enough food for months. The shelter is nicer than that apartment you had in Foggy Bottom. Remember that?”