I’m no stranger to social protests, I was taken on them as a child (by my mother and my beloved grandparents). I joined many whilst at university, both in England and then in California. I’ve demonstrated outside hospitals, protesting low wages for nurses and doctors, marched for a woman’s right to choose and taken to the mean streets to make my anger known at Brexit.
In Israel I’ve stood up for peace at rallies in Tel Aviv (I was at the famous one, the night Rabin was assassinated), demonstrated against Bibi Netanyahu and his corruption on my street corner and joined the enormous rally at London’s Trafalgar Square, after the horror of George Floyd’s killing.
I’ve kept my distance from people for much of the last two years, in a determined attempt to avoid a nasty interaction with covid, and I’m still conscious of the situation, but - after not much thought - I decided to head to Rothschild Boulevard in Tel Aviv, two nights ago, to protest the war in Ukraine.
I wasn’t sure how many people would be there but, as it happened, the turnout was quite astonishing. I know it has something to do with the fact that we Israelis are huge protestors - vocal in our views (to the point that we’ll often tell you what we think, even when you don’t want to hear).
But it wasn’t just that - it was something much more. Such an outpouring of shock, grief and rage.
I thought I was alone in my feelings - the despair, the horror, the disgust, the sheer terror at the possibility of a major war between the superpowers, with the existential threat of a nuclear war hanging over our heads.
Apparently it is not just me. As far as my eye could see, there were people with placards, flags, instruments…so many young people (who have a reputation in Tel Aviv for being more interested in cocktail bars than politics), just as many older people and families with small kids too.
Israel, of course, is home to a huge Russian population, as well as a considerable number of Ukrainian Jews who have made their home here. It felt as if every one of them were on the streets.
There were no speeches by politicians, and no clear organisation to the protest, which had been organised at short notice. Just thousands of people either on the famous boulevard, pouring into the huge square at Ha Bimah (where Israel’s national theatre stands) and marching across King George Street all the way to the Russian Embassy.
I feel so many things now, just as I felt them two days ago, and my heart is heavy for all those who are in the line of fire. I always thought Putin was a thug and a bully, but Russia’s invasion of Ukraine caught me (and many I know) entirely off guard.
Now I realise I need to re-assess my opinion of him and I have. My conclusion is that he’s a deranged megalomaniac, intent on the invasion of the Ukraine and installation of a puppet government, there to do the Kremlin’s bidding.
The fact that he is so utterly unhinged (or, as psychologists might say, suffering from ‘cognitive dissonance’) is a serious cause for concern too. It’s not my feeling that he wants to admit his error and save face. His remarks in the last days are anything but conciliatory. He is ready to throw everything he has at the Ukraine, including thousands of Russian soldiers who he’s happy to use as canon fodder.
At this point, it seems to me that many of the possible outcomes are bleak, but - then again - who really knows. In David and Goliath battles, it’s always foolish to underestimate the underdog. And urban warfare is a messy business too - not to mention a time-consuming one. One thing seems sure - Ukraine won’t go down without a fight. And for this I feel admiration.
As New Hampshire residents like to say, “Live free or die.”