A wave of anti-Semitism is sweeping the Holy Land, perpetrated by immigrants encouraged to come and live in Israel, most not Jewish under Halakha (Jewish law) but allowed to enter under the secular Law of Return.
Sadly, many of those who carry out the hate crimes are those who government officials had hoped to save as a remnant of the Jewish world that existed before the Soviet system worked to stamp it out.
At present, the law allows anyone who can claim one Jewish grandparent to make aliyah, with full immigrant benefits, regardless of whether they even want to return to the Judaism of their ancestors.
Thousands of people from the former Soviet Union have entered the country under this law --- and thousands of Russian Jews have been horrified by the phenomenon.
Ella Shapira, a Russian immigrant who came to Israel in 1976, was quoted in a report this week by the Ynet news service as she related her own recent brush with Russian anti-Semitism.
"I was walking my dog in Tel Aviv," she told the reporter, describing how her pet had barked at a drunken stranger on the street. She apologized, she said, and went on her way – until she was knocked to the ground by the drunken stranger who grabbed the leash and started to choke her dog.
"He was screaming at me, 'Stinking Zhidovka!' – a Russian epithet for 'Jew'. 'You Jews destroyed Russia and disturb all the normal people living here," he screamed at her.
Now more than 30 years here in Israel, Shapira has heard more hate in the Jewish State than she ever dreamed she would when she left Leningrad so many years ago. In 2001 she was even attacked physically by a drunk who shouted Russian slurs at her.
"I walked in the streets and cried," she told the reporter. "To where have we come, if in the Jewish State they humiliate me because I am Jewish?"
She related another incident. "A few weeks ago I went into a clothing store and the two saleswomen began to talk about me in Russian. 'Here is a dirty Jew, she is going to touch everything and make it dirty.' They were shocked when I answered them in Russian and explained to them that it is forbidden to speak that way."
Zalman Glichevsky, president of the "Dmir Assistance in Absorption" center for victims of anti-Semitism, said the number of incidents reported to his organization is growing, despite the lack of publicity.
"Everyone sweeps the issue of anti-Semitism in Israel under the rug," he said. "There is a leading skinhead website and I discovered that they have a discussion group which includes Russian speakers from Israel."
Glichevsky said he has received "hundreds" of reports. "Over time I have collected a large archive of incidents."
A Jewish Agency worker in another city, who spoke on condition of anonymity, said she too has often heard anti-Semitic slurs from Russian immigrants. Since she herself is a Russian Jew, she understands what they say.
"Because I have blond hair and blue eyes, they think I am a goy like them," she said. "They say they came to get out of Russia, they hate the Jews. But they like the benefits they get as new immigrants and they laugh about having 'put one over' on the immigrant authorities who invited them in."
This woman lives in a city where more than a third of the population is Russian. She said that at least half of those who immigrated to her community are not Jews and have no intention of converting.
"They are outright anti-Semites," she said. "Not all, of course. But many – too many – especially in the last wave that came."
Other examples: A Nazi symbol spray-painted in a synagogue in Petach Tikvah. An Israeli flag burned in Bat Yam, less than a month ago.
In one incident, a girls' school in a southern city torn apart less than a year ago, Nazi symbols scrawled on the walls, furniture thrown around the schoolyard and smashed, papers tossed about like confetti in the wind.
Staff members were stunned when they arrived for a meeting and saw the wreckage a few hours after the Sabbath had ended. Their small school looked like a nightmare. Students' school books were ripped to pieces, their bags destroyed, belongings ruined. The colorful artwork their teachers had so lovingly created to decorate the tiny rooms, was ripped from the walls and shredded. Curriculum materials, art supplies, books purchased with scant funds painfully collected – all useless, destroyed.
Huge gobs of paint were flung around the classrooms and anti-Semitic epithets were scribbled on the walls. The office was a shambles, the precious bits of equipment that had been donated one by one – computers, a copy machine, a fax machine – were smeared with paint and broken; not stolen, simply destroyed.
Classes were held at the teachers' homes the next day, while boys from the small religious community came to help the principal and a few other adults try to clean up the mess.
The girls were told, briefly, that the school had been vandalized, with most of the gory details left out. Some of the older students were given more detailed information, and the word went out in whispers that the anti-Semites had attacked – again.
Young girls had often been taunted as they walked to and from school. Some had been accosted in the past, a few even attacked by immigrant teenagers from the former Soviet Union who hurled curses in Russian and laughed at the girls' reactions.
None of this was new. The locked gate at the school had already been broken several times before. Charity boxes had been stolen, things had been destroyed – but never like this. The police were called and dutifully came to take the report; but this time, when the officers saw the wreckage, they vowed to find the culprits.
And they did. Within days, three teenagers were caught and confessed to the crime. All three were immigrants. Two were Russian.
When contacted about the incident, the principal refused to discuss it. The police declined to comment. Two teachers quietly described the scene but begged not to be identified lest they invoke the ire of the principal and other community leaders. The mini-pogrom was hushed up, tucked away like an unpleasant skeleton in the family closet.
Within a year, the school moved to another neighborhood. But the girls are still afraid – and so are their teachers.
"Amazing," said a community member, who also requested anonymity, fearing retribution. "In the Jewish land, we had to import anti-Semitism. What could we have been thinking?"
Sadly, many of those who carry out the hate crimes are those who government officials had hoped to save as a remnant of the Jewish world that existed before the Soviet system worked to stamp it out.
At present, the law allows anyone who can claim one Jewish grandparent to make aliyah, with full immigrant benefits, regardless of whether they even want to return to the Judaism of their ancestors.
Thousands of people from the former Soviet Union have entered the country under this law --- and thousands of Russian Jews have been horrified by the phenomenon.
Ella Shapira, a Russian immigrant who came to Israel in 1976, was quoted in a report this week by the Ynet news service as she related her own recent brush with Russian anti-Semitism.
"I was walking my dog in Tel Aviv," she told the reporter, describing how her pet had barked at a drunken stranger on the street. She apologized, she said, and went on her way – until she was knocked to the ground by the drunken stranger who grabbed the leash and started to choke her dog.
"He was screaming at me, 'Stinking Zhidovka!' – a Russian epithet for 'Jew'. 'You Jews destroyed Russia and disturb all the normal people living here," he screamed at her.
Now more than 30 years here in Israel, Shapira has heard more hate in the Jewish State than she ever dreamed she would when she left Leningrad so many years ago. In 2001 she was even attacked physically by a drunk who shouted Russian slurs at her.
"I walked in the streets and cried," she told the reporter. "To where have we come, if in the Jewish State they humiliate me because I am Jewish?"
She related another incident. "A few weeks ago I went into a clothing store and the two saleswomen began to talk about me in Russian. 'Here is a dirty Jew, she is going to touch everything and make it dirty.' They were shocked when I answered them in Russian and explained to them that it is forbidden to speak that way."
Zalman Glichevsky, president of the "Dmir Assistance in Absorption" center for victims of anti-Semitism, said the number of incidents reported to his organization is growing, despite the lack of publicity.
"Everyone sweeps the issue of anti-Semitism in Israel under the rug," he said. "There is a leading skinhead website and I discovered that they have a discussion group which includes Russian speakers from Israel."
Glichevsky said he has received "hundreds" of reports. "Over time I have collected a large archive of incidents."
A Jewish Agency worker in another city, who spoke on condition of anonymity, said she too has often heard anti-Semitic slurs from Russian immigrants. Since she herself is a Russian Jew, she understands what they say.
"Because I have blond hair and blue eyes, they think I am a goy like them," she said. "They say they came to get out of Russia, they hate the Jews. But they like the benefits they get as new immigrants and they laugh about having 'put one over' on the immigrant authorities who invited them in."
This woman lives in a city where more than a third of the population is Russian. She said that at least half of those who immigrated to her community are not Jews and have no intention of converting.
"They are outright anti-Semites," she said. "Not all, of course. But many – too many – especially in the last wave that came."
Other examples: A Nazi symbol spray-painted in a synagogue in Petach Tikvah. An Israeli flag burned in Bat Yam, less than a month ago.
In one incident, a girls' school in a southern city torn apart less than a year ago, Nazi symbols scrawled on the walls, furniture thrown around the schoolyard and smashed, papers tossed about like confetti in the wind.
Staff members were stunned when they arrived for a meeting and saw the wreckage a few hours after the Sabbath had ended. Their small school looked like a nightmare. Students' school books were ripped to pieces, their bags destroyed, belongings ruined. The colorful artwork their teachers had so lovingly created to decorate the tiny rooms, was ripped from the walls and shredded. Curriculum materials, art supplies, books purchased with scant funds painfully collected – all useless, destroyed.
Huge gobs of paint were flung around the classrooms and anti-Semitic epithets were scribbled on the walls. The office was a shambles, the precious bits of equipment that had been donated one by one – computers, a copy machine, a fax machine – were smeared with paint and broken; not stolen, simply destroyed.
Classes were held at the teachers' homes the next day, while boys from the small religious community came to help the principal and a few other adults try to clean up the mess.
The girls were told, briefly, that the school had been vandalized, with most of the gory details left out. Some of the older students were given more detailed information, and the word went out in whispers that the anti-Semites had attacked – again.
Young girls had often been taunted as they walked to and from school. Some had been accosted in the past, a few even attacked by immigrant teenagers from the former Soviet Union who hurled curses in Russian and laughed at the girls' reactions.
None of this was new. The locked gate at the school had already been broken several times before. Charity boxes had been stolen, things had been destroyed – but never like this. The police were called and dutifully came to take the report; but this time, when the officers saw the wreckage, they vowed to find the culprits.
And they did. Within days, three teenagers were caught and confessed to the crime. All three were immigrants. Two were Russian.
When contacted about the incident, the principal refused to discuss it. The police declined to comment. Two teachers quietly described the scene but begged not to be identified lest they invoke the ire of the principal and other community leaders. The mini-pogrom was hushed up, tucked away like an unpleasant skeleton in the family closet.
Within a year, the school moved to another neighborhood. But the girls are still afraid – and so are their teachers.
"Amazing," said a community member, who also requested anonymity, fearing retribution. "In the Jewish land, we had to import anti-Semitism. What could we have been thinking?"