white night

Of late, I've had a suspicion that Israelis (on average) sleep less than any other people I know of. The perpetual exuberance of my first laila lavan confirmed this suspicion. Laila lavan, lit. "white night" is the Hebrew translation of "all-nighter", but when people say laila lavan it denotes activity and a bright color, whereas "all-nighter" is normally spoken in the moping tones of a minor-third chord, denoting darkness, and usually implying a chore such as reluctantly writing a paper.

Last night, Megama Yeruka held a laila lavan seminar on campaign organizing from 6pm-8am at the Society for the Protection of Nature campus near my apartment in south Tel Aviv. I rarely feel so at home as I do at environmentalist events, no matter where, no matter with whom. But most of my experience with lobbying was in high school, so it was a welcome change to plan campaigns with students who range their 20s, have completed years of army service, and are extremely well-traveled. I couldn’t help but think that because they can no longer take their lives for granted, they inject more passion and seriousness in their endeavors. (I am also aware that this may just be my brain-cloud romanticization). Regardless, I don’t doubt that these students exert as much influence as any experienced, professional American lobbyist does in Washington.

Anyway, they're serious. My group's simulation was to design a campaign to abolish the passionfruit from Israeli agriculture. Although we didn’t win the contest, we debated campaign strategy for hours, beginning at 1am.

After a marketing lecture, lectures on campaign organizing, and this fierce campaigning competition, it was 4am, and time to take action. One group made posters, one group added commentary (with spray paint) to campaign signs around Tel Aviv (the elections are March 28), and my own group went to the center of town to flyer young bargoers. This idea blew my mind away. Although I helped develop our Swarthmore Storm the Dorms tradition of going door-to-door to do personal energy audits and the idea of a no-agenda Earth Day party, it never occurred to me just to go into bars and talk to people. Maybe that's because bars are not my element unless I'm dancing in them; talking has always seemed to defeat the purpose of going out. Then again, personal, seductive salesmanship is the cutting-edge marketing technique. It crosses the line when used to promote products for corporate revenue. But...

In our case, we are concerned citizens (well, not me, but my opinion is taken seriously as an American Jew spending a year in Israel) voicing our opinions to our neighbors, asking them to keep the environment in mind when casting their votes next week. 1500 people die every year in the Greater Tel Aviv Metropolitan area due to air pollution, from the Reading Power Station and transportation pollution. Eventually, the goal is to have the Knesset pass the recently proposed Clean Air Act legislation.

We came back to our classroom, did some Tai Chi led by one of the students, ate some fruit salad and did a wrap-up. Staying up all night with people builds incredible solidarity. Just think about our first sleepovers or Sixth Grade Camp or Project Graduation…Israelis think of annual school overnight trips, youth group events, and army training. Accordingly, despite all rifts, Israelis have incredible solidarity.

Case in point: Anonymous told me a great story about being Israeli on the road. He was in Peru, cycling from Mt. Whitney across the Americas to Tierra del Fuego. He was sharing a room with two German guys at a hostel, and he knew of an Israeli who had a single room in the hostel. That night, it became apparent that he wanted to spend some time alone with a girl he had met. He knew of the Israeli guy, but hadn’t actually had a conversation with him. Even so, he took his key, knocked on the guy's door, waking him up, and said, "I need a room for tonight. You can sleep in my bed. Room 6, the bed on the right. Thanks so much."

"Ok," said anonymous Israeli traveler #2, "No problem."