[LINK] "Young Israel's New Love Affair with Germany"
Juliane von Mittelstaedt's article in the English-language edition of Der Spiegel, describing how after three generations Jews--Israelis, here--are becoming somewhat Germanophile, at least in the cultural sense. Is this a belated recovery of the once-close relationship German-Jewish relationship?
On his first night in Germany, Tomer Heymann, an Israeli, sleeps with a German. He met him -- Andreas Josef Merk, blond and Catholic -- at Berghain, a Berlin club. Heymann -- film director, Jewish and gay -- at first takes him for a Swede. He thinks Germans must look different, perhaps more sinister, jagged or cruder.
The next morning, the camera is already rolling, and the Israeli asks the German: Are you proud to be a German? Have you ever spoken with your grandparents about the Holocaust? No, says the German, but it's very possible that they were Nazis. A long silence follows. It's the only time they broach the topic.
Shortly thereafter, the German travels to Tel Aviv with two suitcases and a one-way ticket. The two men celebrate Passover and Christmas together. The German demonstrates how to flip pancakes in the air; the Israeli shows him how to stand still on Holocaust Remembrance Day, with your arms pressed tightly against your body while you observe two minutes of silence. These and many other scenes eventually become a film: a 56-minute record of the new, unencumbered way in which many Israelis and Germans are now relating to each other.
[. . .]
Something has changed about the way Israelis and Germans interact, far removed from the endless German debates in which old men wrestle with their ghosts and politicians struggle to perform the mandatory rituals: the obligatory visit to Yad Vashem here, the obligatory visit to Dachau there. For quite some time now, there's been a new Israeli-German reality beyond the routine of shock and dismay -- primarily in Israel.
Nearly 70 years after the Holocaust, the last survivors are passing away, and this is changing how younger Israelis view Germany. Relatively free of historical taboos, they are redefining what this country means to them. This new generation no longer finds it odd that a company like Birkenstock promotes its products in Israel with "Made in Germany," and a short trip to Berlin is the most normal thing in the world. For them, Germany is not just a country like any other -- it also happens to be one of their favorites.
It mainly has to do with a feeling, a new Israeli self-assurance vis-à-vis Germany, one characterized by curiosity and a yearning for discovery. Young Israelis no longer insist on constant remembrance but, rather, on the right to be allowed to forget sometimes.
The sheer scale of this transition is perhaps best expressed in figures: Two years ago, one-quarter of all Israelis were rooting for Germany to win the soccer World Cup. In a survey conducted in 2009, 80 percent of all respondents qualified Israeli-German relations as normal, and 55 percent said that anti-Semitism was no worse in Germany than elsewhere in Europe.
On his first night in Germany, Tomer Heymann, an Israeli, sleeps with a German. He met him -- Andreas Josef Merk, blond and Catholic -- at Berghain, a Berlin club. Heymann -- film director, Jewish and gay -- at first takes him for a Swede. He thinks Germans must look different, perhaps more sinister, jagged or cruder.
The next morning, the camera is already rolling, and the Israeli asks the German: Are you proud to be a German? Have you ever spoken with your grandparents about the Holocaust? No, says the German, but it's very possible that they were Nazis. A long silence follows. It's the only time they broach the topic.
Shortly thereafter, the German travels to Tel Aviv with two suitcases and a one-way ticket. The two men celebrate Passover and Christmas together. The German demonstrates how to flip pancakes in the air; the Israeli shows him how to stand still on Holocaust Remembrance Day, with your arms pressed tightly against your body while you observe two minutes of silence. These and many other scenes eventually become a film: a 56-minute record of the new, unencumbered way in which many Israelis and Germans are now relating to each other.
[. . .]
Something has changed about the way Israelis and Germans interact, far removed from the endless German debates in which old men wrestle with their ghosts and politicians struggle to perform the mandatory rituals: the obligatory visit to Yad Vashem here, the obligatory visit to Dachau there. For quite some time now, there's been a new Israeli-German reality beyond the routine of shock and dismay -- primarily in Israel.
Nearly 70 years after the Holocaust, the last survivors are passing away, and this is changing how younger Israelis view Germany. Relatively free of historical taboos, they are redefining what this country means to them. This new generation no longer finds it odd that a company like Birkenstock promotes its products in Israel with "Made in Germany," and a short trip to Berlin is the most normal thing in the world. For them, Germany is not just a country like any other -- it also happens to be one of their favorites.
It mainly has to do with a feeling, a new Israeli self-assurance vis-à-vis Germany, one characterized by curiosity and a yearning for discovery. Young Israelis no longer insist on constant remembrance but, rather, on the right to be allowed to forget sometimes.
The sheer scale of this transition is perhaps best expressed in figures: Two years ago, one-quarter of all Israelis were rooting for Germany to win the soccer World Cup. In a survey conducted in 2009, 80 percent of all respondents qualified Israeli-German relations as normal, and 55 percent said that anti-Semitism was no worse in Germany than elsewhere in Europe.