Some months ago the Israel Postal Authority resolved to issue a new postage stamp named “The New Srulik”. They announced an open competition and asked me to provide some sociological guidelines for the competitors.

On December 13, 2007 the design of the “typical Israeli” by the Tel Aviv artist Eli Kameli was chosen by thousands of Internet users for the stamp to mark the 60th anniversary of Israel’s independence (paradoxically, most Israelis do not look like the image. I personally do not really like the caricature that was selected).

For the portrayal of the New Srulik I recommended that the fundamental Israeli personality traits, which are still evident in popular culture and mentality, be taken into consideration.

But what are these traits? What distinguishes Israelis from other people? Almost everyone I spoke to about the Israeli nature and character—foreigners and Israelis alike—argued that the typical Israeli (and they usually mean someone belonging to the Jewish veteran population, who form the majority) is truly one of a kind. Naturally, many Israeli traits originate in the Jewish heritage and cultural history, but many others are unique and quite remote from the characteristics of the Diaspora Jew. Their origins must be sought in specifically Israeli history, geography, demography, climate and other sources.

In my book The Sabra: The Creation of the New Jew (University of California Press, 2000) I portray a socio-historical profile of the Sabra archetype—Israel’s national type and social model, which exerted a major influence on Israeli culture and mentality. But are we still Sabras in the sociological sense? The answer to this question, which is elaborated in following paper (most of which is a translation of the New Srulik guidelines paper), is—yes and no.

The Sabra Myth and Model

The Sabras were the first native Israelis—the first generation to grow up in the Yishuv, the Zionist settlement in Palestine. Socialized and educated in the ethos of the Zionist labor movement and the communal ideals of the kibbutz and moshav, they turned the dream of their pioneer fathers into the reality of the new State of Israel. While the Sabras were in fact a small minority of the new society’s population, their cultural influence was enormous and is felt in Israel to this day.
The Sabra myth became the central myth of Israeli society and was largely created by the Sabras themselves, especially by the generation of writers, poets, and journalists they produced. Despite the Sabras’ view of themselves as being an entirely new breed of Jew, they in fact preserved many elements of traditional Jewish culture.

The Sabras were socialized in socialist Zionist ideas from the cradle and imbued with the message by their parents and educators that their destiny was to consolidate and broaden the achievements of their parents’ pioneer generation while remaining loyal to its values. The socialization process began with lullabies and children’s songs and stories, and continued with ideological education in the schools and ideological messages conveyed through children’s literature. Next came assemblies and memorial ceremonies, youth movements, and pre-military courses, which prepared the Sabras for one of their critical missions, the defense of their people and homeland.

The Sabras were instilled with a set of Zionist myths that taught them that the Jewish people, though small and oppressed, was destined to be delivered from its enemies in the Land of Israel. While labor Zionism was a secular movement, it saw itself as having a historic messianic destiny and it adapted Jewish holidays and ceremonies, such as the bar mitzvah, to its own purposes, and created its own pantheon of ancient and modern heroes and leaders.

The labor Zionists taught their Sabra children that they were members of the chosen people—chosen not to bring God’s kingdom on earth but to establish an exemplary just society of laborers and farmers. The Sabras considered themselves superior to their Diaspora kin, a new breed of “gentile Jews” that rejected Diaspora servility and weakness. They admired strong, beautiful bodies, especially male ones, modeling themselves on both Biblical heroes such as David and Hollywood heroes such as Gary Cooper.

During and after the Holocaust the Sabras even criticized European Jewry for not having fought back in order to die with honor. This same attitude led to difficulties in absorbing and assimilating Holocaust survivors, as well as the new eastern Jewish arrivals, into Sabra frameworks such as the Palmach and the kibbutzim. For the Sabras, the “melting pot” was one in which the immigrant shed his previous identity and adopted Sabra culture. Immigrants were expected—and often fulfilled the expectation—not only to become outwardly Israeli but even to adopt Hebrew Sabra names. The Palmach in particular, along with its successors, the Israeli Paratrooper Corps, the Air Force, and other crack units, functioned as elite Sabra organizations. The Sabras developed a slang that expressed their special personality traits—playfulness, independence, gruffness, and impudence. The Sabras also developed their own informal, sloppy dress—shorts, undershirt, stocking cap, Arab headdress. They carried a rifle, and, if possible had a jeep.

The Sabras rejected the traditional Jewish emphasis on intellectual achievement. Instead, they idealized useful manual labor and defense. Even the schools accepted these values, sending students for periods of agricultural labor and for military training in the cadet corps, the Gadna. The diaries and letters written by the Sabras show that they took real joy in manual labor, farming, and physical activity. Sabra language reflected this emphasis, being rich in technical and mechanical terms and in words that reflected a practical, direct, and unambiguous approach to life. Sabras did not generally pursue higher education, at least not after high school. Instead, the classic path was hagshama, meaning realization or consummation of one’s ideology. Hagshama meant joining a kibbutz, founding a new settlement, joining the army—a fulfillment of Zionist values. Youth movements even valued hagshama above completing high school studies.

Despite being committed to Zionism, Sabras tended to look down on political leaders who lived in the cities and worked in offices, and to ridicule people who talked at length about Zionist ideology. Zionism was doing, they believed. Another product of anti-intellectualism was Sabra ethnocentrism. Yet despite this ethos Sabras were often well read, and they themselves wrote extensively.

The Sabras loved their land. Love of the Land of Israel, and firsthand knowledge of its terrain, flora, and fauna, was a central part of the school curriculum and a goal of the youth movements. Field trips were an integral part of the school program, and once a year school classes went on a special field trip lasting several days. Kibbutz and moshav children helped their parents work the land, and city children grew crops in school gardens and spent vacations working on kibbutzim.

Both kibbutz and city children lived close to nature; open spaces were close by and young people spent much of their time wandering, often barefoot, through fields and sand dunes, Huckleberry Finn-style. Knowledge of the country’s geography and natural history was an expression of love of the land, and this made the reconnaissance scout the most prestigious military profession. The ultimate Sabra experience was the march—a long hike with school, youth movement, or army unit of several days, over remote and difficult terrain with limited food and water. Sabra culture glorified daring individuals who went on such marches alone or in small groups, especially if the march was dangerous or crossed into forbidden territory.

The Sabras romanticized the Arab, especially the Bedouin, as the model of the true native of the Land of Israel, but also looked down on the Arabs as poor, uneducated, and uncultured, and feared them as a bitter enemy. They could also ignore the presence of Arabs in their country when that was convenient. The Palestinian Arabs were not seen as being the true owners of the land of the Jews. Still, Sabra writings, even those by Sabra soldiers, do not express animosity or vengefulness toward the Arabs. The Sabra soldiers considered themselves moral fighters whose arms were pure. The Sabras adopted items of Arab dress, Arabic words, and Arabian coffee, and had an entire “Arab” unit—the Mista’arvim, whose members disguised themselves as Arabs and went on clandestine missions.  

The Sabra combat culture was fundamentally based on moral codes. Palmach Orders of the Day and company bulletins contain no fiery tirades against the Arab populace or even against Arab soldiers, and there is no incitement to slaughter or revenge. Sabra soldiers were ordered to treat prisoners with honor, not to desecrate holy sites, and not to loot or rape. However, these rules were not always obeyed. Looting, in particular, seems to have been practiced on a large scale. Sabra soldiers were also insensitive to the fate of the Arab refugees, whom they expelled from villages and whose homes they demolished.

Simplicity and austerity were Sabra ideals. The Sabras, men and women alike, dressed in simple, rough clothes, even on formal occasions. When the Sabras were not barefoot, they wore sandals; their hair was uncombed. They were ready for work and action at any time and sneered at city youth who followed fashion and went to “ballroom dances.” The Sabras also eschewed etiquette as decadent and bourgeois. The same spirit pervaded the Palmach, and later the Israeli army, where insignia of rank and medals were often not displayed; the more serious the unit, the more haphazardly it wore its uniform. The Sabras were sexual Puritans—they talked little about sex, looked down on promiscuity, and saw pairing off as a kind of betrayal of the group culture.

The Sabras were loyal to their group—their class, youth movement chapter, army unit, and kibbutz, and these frameworks were in many ways their family. In their cohesiveness and common world-view, they were much like the Hasidic sects to which many Jews had belonged in Europe. Kibbutz children were brought up in children’s houses, where they enjoyed a great deal of autonomy. For city children, the strong and independent peer framework was the youth movement, of which there were several, including Hashomer Hatsa’ir, Machanot Ha’olim, Hanoar Ha’oved, and the Scouts. Expressions of the group culture were the Israeli folk dance, a circle dance that resembled the Hasidic dance, and the singalong, where young people gathered in an almost ritual singing of songs of the homeland. Another important leisure activity was the campfire, or kumzitz, where a group of friends or comrades would sing and tell jokes and tall tales—chizbatim. Sabra slang contained many terms expressing the informal, close friendship of the group. The military expression of the group culture was the brotherhood of fighters and the idealization of altruism in the battlefield, as well as the memorialization of the fallen soldiers.

Self-criticism

The best-known caricature of the Sabra first appeared 1956 in the daily Maariv. Drawn by the illustrator and caricaturist Dosh (Kariel Gardosh), it earned the symbolic name “Srulik” (little Israeli). Srulik, who featured several Sabra characteristics—the dunce’s hat, biblical sandals or army boots, lock of hair, kakhi shirt and pants—appeared over the years in many of Dosh’s caricatures in newpapers and magazines, and became an Israeli trademark for the new, native Jew, strong and optimistic, the diametric opposite of anti-Semitic caricatures.

Eight years later, in 1964, Dosh published a book titled What Happened? In the introduction Dosh revealed his worries over Srulik’s coming of age:
What am I to do about Srulik in the coming years? Should he remain an eternal child, or should I “mature” him, with the passage of time? Actually—and I hope my readers have noticed—”Srulik” has already grown up a bit since I began using him, many years ago, as a symbol of the state. He’s taller now, his neck and legs are longer, his gaze has intensified and he has become—I suppose—smarter. Perhaps, one or two years remain for Srulik as a child before the contrast between his age and the state of Israel’s age become too extreme. That day will of course come, and the decision will have to be made. What will it be? I admit, I would like to keep Srulik as he is now—a little kid, naïve and daring. He’ll keep wearing shorts, won’t grow a mustache, his voice won’t break, he won’t get married or leave home, and we’ll always be able to sit him on our lap so he can tell us stories.

Naturally, of course, this was a vain hope. Srulik aged along with the myth; his image, and the state’s, both lost their innocence. Even during the 1950s, when the Sabra myth was still in its prime, public figures and educators criticized the Sabra and those who graduated from the Hebrew school system. Yet this criticism was directed not at the mythological image of the Sabra and his values but at their supposed betrayal of Zionist values. Youth movements held mock trials at which the Sabra was nearly always found guilty of selfish careerism, departure from settlement and volunteering values, and absorption of the hedonistic, American culture. In the 1950s a public outcry arose when it emerged that ballroom dancing was gaining popularity among the “better” youth.

In the 1960s, interviews with youth due to be drafted became a regular feature in the newspapers, to the loud dismay of the conservatives and gatekeepers, appalled by the lack of patriotism that sometimes emerged. Time and again it became clear that at least some Sabras of the 1960s were critical of the state and its establishment, but also had “egotist” ambitions concerning career and study. Here and there, the youth voiced their doubts about Zionist clichés. These voices reflected the growing influence of the hedonism, materialism and careerism of American culture; holes opened up in the wall of Israeli culture, revealing the deepening chasm between the innocent, ambitious idealism of the founding fathers and the harsh, daily reality. Moreover, the third generation of Zionists had not experienced the defining, turbulent era, or known the pride of those youth who were considered the “silver salver” (whereon the independent state of Israel was delivered to the Jewish people).

They were remote from values in whose creation they had played no part.

During the Six Day War of 1967 Israeli youth exhibited their patriotic zeal, and the astounding victory brought criticism against them to a pause. Old expressions such as “espresso generation,” “radio-transistor generation,” “golden generation” and “seed of destruction” disappeared from the public discourse, and made way for renewed worship of the “resplendent Sabra.”

During the War of Attrition in 1970-72 the first signs of fracture in the resolute patriotism of the cream of the youth appeared, and the positive mythological image of the Sabra began to erode once more. This was expressed provocatively in Queen of the Bathtub, a satirical review by Hanokh Levin staged in 1970.

In the period preceding the Yom Kippur war the portrait of the mythological Sabra stimulated a poignant analysis of his personality, applying psychological and sociological tools. For example, in September 1977 a special issue of the literary publication Proza was dedicated to the “literary flaw of ‘48 [1948 – year of the declaration of the state of Israel and its War of Independence].” Also in 1977 the Khan theater in Jerusalem staged Cherlie Kacherlie, a play by Daniel Horowitz, which questioned core conventions regarding the mythological character of the Sabra: is he a real contrast to the Diaspora Jew, or just a variant? Is the worship of those who died on the altar of Zionist ideology justified? Is not the Sabra’s pride a form of superiority and local narcissism?

 From the 1980s the Sabra myth came under increasing scrutiny, and the topic was one of the central issues of academic debate in humanities studies. Concurrently, a mass of research papers focusing on the myths and Zionist national symbols emerged, and new ones continue to appear still today. These studies, published in numerous articles and books, have caused a scholarly diminution of the Sabra myth and have contributed to the emergence of a new understanding to its historical image: from a national icon to character of flesh and blood.

Alongside the shifts in attitudes witnessed in academic papers, similar attacks on the Sabra myth have appeared in Hebrew literature. The most notable and reviewed were two novels by Yaacov Shabtai: Zichron Devarim (Mifalim Universitaim, 1977—published in English as Past Continuous, 1985) and its continuation Sof Davar (Past Perfect) (Hakibbutz Hame’uhad, 1989). These works generated critical response for their tackling the Israeli identity from a psychological point of view. The poet and literary critic S. Shifra wrote that Meir, the protagonist of Sof Davar, “represents the nation’s generation, the eternal youth, the bearers of the tradition of the “Dor Ba’aretz” heroes who populate the stories of S. Izhar.” They evoked pity at a “loss that devours life itself.” The literary critic and researcher Yedidia Izkhaki titled his review of this novel “He Walked the Streets”, to emphasize the contrast between Meir, the aging Sabra, and Moshe Shamir”s, Uri of the novel He Walked the Fields. Shabtai himself condemned the representation of the Sabra myth in literature at a symposium on the “Image of the Sabra in Hebrew Literature” at Tel Aviv University in 1980.

The literary assault on the Sabra myth intensified in Hebrew literature in the late 1980s. Alongside writers, film and theater critics embarked on a busy inquiry into the Sabra myth. This activity was generally part of the critical debate on new works of art concerned with Israeli identity, contextualized in the ongoing conflicts, especially regarding national security, emigration from Israel, and forsaking the kibbutz.

Concomitant with the intellectual assault on the Sabra myth, the traditional traits faded in the secular, Israeli youth born after the Yom Kippur war. From 1980s on, as “nostalgia” became a dirty word, the grandchildren of the ‘48 generation gradually abandoned the “khaki culture” and develop their own dress, less Sabra and more varied. For the first time, a return to symbols of the lands of the Diaspora, despised by the Sabra, became legitimate. A clear example is the resumption of Jewish family names current in the Diaspora, as the antithesis to the Hebraization of family names in the 1950s and 1960s. The word sabra itself became increasingly rare in daily conversations, dislodged by the neutral word yisra’eli (Israeli).

In 1986 the daily Ha’aretz in one of its special supplements published an article by Tamar Maroz called “The ‘87 Model.” The article was a response to the short film Good Morning Israel, made by Amir Har-Gil as his graduation project at Beit Zvi film and theater school. This film, aired in the program Shminiot Ba’avir (about high school seniors) on Educational TV, portrayed five young people. The character Saar, aged fifteen, is woken by a Filipino maid, dives into the pool in his garden, then takes a dip in the jacuzzi where he expands on his future dreams. They are in no way patriotic (to serve his country and people), but materialistic and wholly egocentric: he aspires to become a movie star and own a Lamborghini. The responses to the program, and to Saar, were impassioned and aggressive. As other interviews followed, it became evident that Saar indeed belonged to the affluent crust of socio-economic strata of Israeli society, but his values, which were anti-Sabra, as Ha’aretz revealed, were fairly typical of his age group generally.

By the end of the 1980s, as Saar’s materialistic dream became the standard dream of secular Israeli youth, the public criticism and disappointment voiced in the Ha’aretz article subsided and gave way to cynicism and complete submission to de-Sabraism, to the point of idealizing the new value system. Academic and intellectual interest in the image of the new Israeli youth documented the shifts in values in Israeli society. Articles, studies and reports in professional publications analyzed the characteristics of the “new young Israeli.” In November 1988 the publication Political conceived an issue titled “25±,” written entirely by young people. It confirmed the changes that had taken place in their generation. In September 1990 another issue that focused on youth culture was published, titled “The ‘Like–Sort of’ Generation” (Dor ha’kaze–ke’ilu). This time intellectuals and academics wrote their impressions and exemplified the changes.

In the 1990s, as the new post-Sabra generation grew older, daily newspapers showed interest in them, and a new wave of surveys and articles about their lifestyle and codes of behavior appeared. In contrast to the adoration of the “prickly Sabras,” during the first twenty years since the establishment of the state, the attitude to the younger generation was generally one of amusement, occasionally of irony, as if to suggest: They are at a different place from where we are. Often these surveys and articles exaggerated and tended to generalize and lump things together, meaning they squeezed youth from different sectors of society into a single category. Nevertheless, it was easy to see that the youth culture of the 1990s resembled less and less that of their parents or grandparents. The youth of the past played street games, and drew their heroes from books and the radio. The children of the present are ensconced in their rooms, and find their heroes on TV. Their world view is informed not by books but by the fast-paced moving image (e.g., video clips) accompanied by electronic sound. They spend long hours glued to the television, staring mostly at local and imported sitcoms, young adult series and telenovellas. The spend long hours on the phone and cell phone, and use a computer to play, print homework, browse the Internet, and transfer meaningless gabble to one another through electronic messaging systems (email, chat, social networks). They prefer to be surrounded by noise and listen to bands they learned of from MTV. They frequent entertainment sites: dance clubs, beach parties, coffee shops, fast food restaurants, bars, bowling allies, and more. They are less articulate than their parents, they possess slighter knowledge of Jewish and Zionist history; but their ability to absorb information is much greater and they are au courant on fashion trends overseas. They are more ambitious than their parents, and their awareness of the importance of a personal career with monetary rewards evolves at a younger age. They are materialistic and acquisitive, love shopping, and consume brand names—loud outfits, hair products, piercing, tattoos, etc. In short, they resemble the young adults and youth in other Western countries much more than the Israelis of the previous generation.

The impression that the Sabra model was about to disappear from Israeli society grew stronger as the Palmach generation, which created that model, aged, and those who survived the wars began to pass on.

All post-Sabra tendencies that gained momentum during the 1980s and 1990s became even more pronounced during the first decade of the 21st century, especially under the influence of TV and Internet, the expansion of the global lifestyle, and the ongoing conflict with the Palestinians.

Social processes that have redefined the image of Israeli youth
In constructing the image of the “new Srulik” it is advisable to consider the following processes that have affected the image of Israeli youth.

1. The feminization of Israeli society, meaning a shift toward a softer gendered model, which has produced the assertive, independent woman and the sensitive man (the metrosexual).

2. Intermingling of Mizrahi (eastern) and Ashkenazi Jews, which has given birth to a new middle class—the “Ashke-Mizrahi.” This has made its mark on the Israeli lifestyle, between the Mediterranean kind and Americanization.

3. Increased air travel and globalization. This process is apparent in the normalization and banalization of the overseas trip, especially hotel package deals around the Mediterranean and in Thailand; infiltration of international distribution networks and young people’s swarming around brand names.

4. The media revolution, which has turned TV (and the Internet on the horizon) into “The Pied Piper of Hamelin” for Israelis. They are addicted to communication, which in turn produces an endless stream of stimulation, cultural icons, and models for imitation: Srulik, and his female version, have moved from the “Silver salver” to the “Silver screen.” Their dream is to be a “Star (that) is Born”—dancer, singer, model, TV presenter, and bask in the glory of a “celeb.” The telecommunication revolution challenges education norms in the family and in schools, and the tradition of reading books and newspapers. It promotes audio-visual skills and dramatic talents (acting) in the younger generation.

5. The dominance of the yuppie-liberal model (manifestly Tel Avivian) has two parallel and complementary lifestyle tracks: the urban-careerist-capitalistic yuppie, based on the lifestyle of the popular TV series “Ramat Aviv Gimel” (equivalent to the American “Beverly Hills, 90210”), and bohemian-soul-community yuppie based on the popular TV series “Florentine.”

6. The shift from a national-collective culture that emphasizes toughness, suppression of emotions, reserved intimacy, and dedication to the realization of the Zionist vision, to an individualistic culture that emphasizes psychological pondering, public display of emotion, and personal development.

7. The transition of the Zionist, anti-Diasporic melting-pot to cultural pluralism and legitimization of an all-round identity (Israeli-Russian, Israeli-Druze, Israeli-Orthodox, Israeli-Ethiopian, etc). If the model of the Sabra was essentially that of the Jewish-Ashkenazi-male-veteran-established-educated-secular-Mapaynik (devoted member of Israel’s once-ruling Mapai party), the “new Srulik” model crosses genders, sects, classes and religious, ideological, and political orientations.

8. The formation of surprising fusions between cultures and styles that are seemingly remote—a kind of postmodern collage in which “everything goes.” One of the typical Israeli expressions is the rise of the New Age culture, which fuses Freud, the Maharishi, Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach, and the Hasidim of Braslev.

9. The development of the free market and the affluent society, and the rise of a materialistic, hedonistic, egocentric and careerist orientation.

10. Expansion of the entertainment and leisure culture, the advent of the “good-time in style” generation, which is the antithesis to the “monks in khaki” model. Today’s young people do not go out in order to refresh themselves and then get back to work relaxed; they work in order to party—at cafes, restaurants, clubs and malls that proliferate all over the country.

11. Zionist society wore khaki and was notable for its obvious asceticism and disregard for superficial beauty. Israel is still far behind some other cultures, especially Christianity, in its affinity for beauty and the aesthetic (especially in the public domain), but the capitalist economy is teaching Israelis in this respect and engendering new sensitivity in them. Israelis today have more money and time to invest in beautiful objects and personal and environmental care, and they have learned, and continue to learn, the market value of the polished and finely-packaged product. Its setting is considered part of the company’s trademark and image, and represents its sophistication and trend awareness, and the efficiency of its service and attention to details. As capitalism expands, design is encroaching on all aspects of our lives, displacing the dour image of the Zionist era. Design institutes (colleges, schools, courses) are expanding, offering classes for professionals and amateurs. The new Sruliks are not sloppy as the early Sabra generations were, but up-to-date with global trends (“loud”), and highly creative in appearance (clothes, shoes, hairdos, piercing, tattoos, etc.) and in interior design (cafes, clubs, etc.).

12. The information revolution and digital technology caused Israeli hi-tech to flourish, turning Israel into one of the most computerized countries in the world (personal computers, Internet, mobile phones, etc.). This revolution, and the rise of the Israeli “cyberspace” generation, profoundly affected the uncertain status of the national Zionist culture. Culture evolves out of the assembly of conventions and small stimuli that create tendencies, sensitivities and tastes. The computer and the television, which import a flood of universal stimuli, independent of geography, climate, local tradition and language, offer an alternative to specific national stimuli. If a person is the receptacle of his or her homeland’s landscape, today’s youth are slowly becoming the receptacle of the landscape of multi-channel TV and Internet websites. The new Sruliks live in a digital world (MP3, mobile phones, etc.) and think and speak “computerese”.

“Yallah Bye” – the umbilical cord to old Srulik

The Sabra model remained dominant in Jewish-secular (and largely in national-religious) education in Israel until the early 1970s. The generations born since the 1980s to Sabra parents began developing new characteristics. Profound long-term social processes, together with traumatic events, changed the value systems prevalent in Israeli society and created a new cultural landscape that defined the new Israeli. The post-Sabra Srulik is very different from the Sabra Srulik, not only because the changes in lifestyle and cultural codes have changed, but also because Israeli society is less hegemonic in terms of class: in it, different sectors rightfully demand partaking in the dominant culture. So Srulik now is less Sabra and more “global,” but also less chauvinistic, less Ashkenazi, less secular and more multi-cultural. He encompasses a fascinating fusion of genders, sects, classes, religions and lifestyles.

Yet despite the deep changes affecting Israeli society, the Sabra genome has not vanished completely, and is hardly likely to disappear in the foreseeable future. The “kibbutz” still percolates under the Israeli urban street, and the local “yallah” call still abrades the American “hi” and “bye.” So in sketching the “new Srulik” it is worth considering the fundamental Israeli characteristics that are still evident in popular culture in the culture and in the Israeli mentality, including those umbilically attached to the old Srulik. Here are some of them.

A. Directness (being dugri). Israel is a society devoid of masks. Its people connect instantly, prefer direct and unmediated contact, and are quick to pour out their hearts to one another (often to people they might have met just five minutes before). Such directness is also expressed through revealing clothes and loud speech habits, which obliges people in public places to listen in on private conversations (e.g., noisy chatter on mobile phones).

B. Bad manners. The directness and loud speech mentioned above connect to another fundamental Israeli trait: tactlessness and disdain for politeness. In general, reserve and etiquette are almost swearwords in Israel—meaning a kind of decadent babbling and being “square”. This somewhat rough behavior is linked to the background of pioneering socialism, the familial nature of the society, non-authoritarian education, the playfully rebellious tendency, and an easygoing attitude to law-breakers.

C. Connection to place, identifying with the state, social involvement. The Israeli “I” is still very much “we.” Despite Israel’s being a multi-sector society and the notable polarization between the different groups, the internal tension is softened by a sense of shared destiny and identity. This may be due to the small size of the state, the shared Jewish background and the constant threat from external enemies. Most Israeli Jews feel like “shareholders” (many of them gilt-edged) in the state, meaning that Israel with its public assets belongs to them. This feeling is probably unique on the international scene: most countries display a distinction between national-public sphere and the private-family sphere. Accordingly, the successes and failures of Israelis, wherever they are (abroad as well), are at once perceived as successes and failures on a personal level: If “he/she” has succeeded, “I” have succeeded; and the reverse: if “he/she” has failed, so have “I.” This phenomenon carries conflicting implications. On the one hand alienation is limited and there is “never a dull moment”; on the other hand life is over-intense, “manic-depressive,” and oscillates between “we’re on a roll” and “life’s a drag”.

D. Elitism. Most Israeli Jews perceive themselves as part of “one big tribe”, but also a choice one. From this emerges the tendency to defend the state while abroad and regard those who criticize it as “anti-Semitic”; on the other hand there is severe self-criticism (as in “only family members are allowed to criticize”). In this respect the Israeli tends to criticize others rather than himself or herself. As a rule, “they are at fault”, not “I am at fault.”

E. Buddies. The Palmachnik parents and their campfire are vanishing from the culture, but for the Israeli it is still essential to be a hevreman (good buddy). He or she likes to spend time among friends and family members (and there are many) and share his or her woes and successes with those who “shared the same pup-tent”. The Israeli is a gossiper, who gathers and distributes plenty of information about others and is hard pressed to keep a secret. The desire to impress buddies leads to exaggeration (for better or worse) in relating reality generally, and personal experiences particularly (we always had a “fabulous” time—never “okay” or “good”). Group pressure and the overt criticism of the environment underlie fear of be caught out as a “sucker.”

F. Gloating. The amusing-sad phrase “There’s no delight like delight in another’s distress” seems to have been coined in Israel. In fact, the intimate and friendly ties among Israelis do not prevent them from gloating over others’ misfortune. Nor is flattery their strongest trait. The fact that the Yiddish word used for it—firgun—was never translated into Hebrew discloses their parsimony with blandishments. On the other hand, Israelis incline to compassion for those who have been punished for their sins and are quick to forgive. Hence the media circus: first a person is dragged through the mud, excoriated, and disparaged; and then described as deserving of pity, and the abusers are subject to attack.

G. Abrasiveness. The Israeli ethos is elbowing (no one countenances standing in line) and is often abrasive. Still, most Israelis have learned to live with this roughness, and what seems to the outsider violent argument (yelling, gesticulation, etc.) is in general perceived locally as entirely natural. When things do get out of the control and a real clash ensues, reconciliation follows quickly – until the next one.

H. Stormy temperament and joyfulness. A sense of humor, love of laughter, and irony (including self-mockery) prevail in Israel. In general Israelis are blessed with vibrant vitality and joyfulness. They tend to observe life with a smile (at times bitter). Yet the transition from laughter to tears, from joy to mourning, can be instantaneous. A stormy temperament, highly typical of Israelis, is possibly connected to genetics, the warm climate, and education lacking in moderation and restraint.

I. Curiosity and initiative. Israelis are extremely intelligent, they grasp things right away, are curious, and take nothing as self-evident. They are ingenious by nature and tend to gather important information, improvise, and invent remarkable devices. The Israeli dream of “scoring big time”—and indeed many Israelis have “made it”—has inflated the Israeli myth that wealth awaits around the corner for everyone. This hope suffuses many Israelis, partly because they tend not be content with what they have; no sooner have they acquired something new than they start thinking about the next improved model they plan to purchase.

J. Nonconformism. Israelis are rebellious by nature. They do not submit mindlessly to authority and convention, and are angry when punished or rebuked even when their breaking the law or departing from regulations is proven. Some claim that in Israel the “grey area” between black and white is more or less infinite, and that the law is a suggestion rather than a rule.

K. Anti-formalism. Israelis prefer non-formal and unmediated relationships (using first names, physical contact, etc.) and try to reduce highbrow language and hierarchy symbolism.  They lighten up formal ceremonies with jokes, humor and a familiar tone. This characteristic is one of the reasons that the Israeli tends to cut corners, ignore the letter of the law, and skirt regulations. Avoiding formalities is reflected, among other things, in the appearance and culture of the Israeli army. For many years most of Israeli secular society avoided wearing ties (even at official events), and still today the IDF holds few parades and other displays of glory and hierarchy.

L. Physical beauty. Israelis are said to be a handsome people—an image that contradicts the anti-Semitic image of the “ugly Jew”. This may be true, perhaps as a result of culture fusions, the clement climate, and fresh and healthy foods. But even if this observation is disputed, it is hard to disregard the fact that they admire beautiful people and exert every effort with their appearance: plastic surgery, shoes and clothing stores, etc.

M. Survival. The constant security threat and the never-ending traumas have turned Israelis into great survivors. The survival tools vary, from denial to managing an “emergency routine” (a purely Israeli term) to venting. Venting—meaning, to complain without taking action—has become protocol, and almost a national pastime.