Montgomery youth’s summer study becomes an unforgettable lesson in the brutality of war
By: Daniel Rathauser
When I listen to the talk of U.N. resolutions, the French, the Italians, terror, Hezbollah, Lebanon, "proportionality," Israel, I can’t help but think of one thing: the sound of rockets exploding outside my dorm room at Haifa University in Israel, where I spent six weeks this summer studying Hebrew.
The day after my younger brother Ben’s Bar Mitzvah, my father and I embarked with Ben on a surprise nine-day trip to Israel. From our apartment in Haifa we traveled throughout the northern and central regions of a country the size of New Jersey. In the mountainous north, we kayaked on the Jordan River and hiked by cool-flowing streams to a waterfall. We went swimming in spring-fed, natural pools, then lunched on fresh fish and salad lakeside, overlooking the Sea of Galilee.
In Haifa, a verdant city of hills astride the sea, we toured the bustling central business district, then took the Carmelit subway to the top of Mount Carmel, where we viewed the serenity of the Baha’i Gardens stretching 13 terraces down to the gold-domed shrine, then another 13 manicured terraces to the bottom, a kilometer in length from the top of the mountain to the bay below. We toured the Technion, Israel’s Institute of Technology (home to a recent Nobel laureate), where two of my good friends are students, and drank coffee strong and dark, according to the local custom.
In Tel Aviv we meandered down bohemian Sheinkin Street and shopped in outdoor markets, dazzled by the scents of the fruits, vegetables and flowers. The Tel Aviv tayelet (seaside promenade) was packed with sunbathers, bicyclists and seaside café-goers, tourists and locals alike, in Israel’s nonstop city where the nightlife begins at midnight, peaks at 2 a.m., and continues until the morning arrival of commuters.
Summer in Israel was in full bloom.
When my father and brother left the evening of July 4, I was free to join my 10 American friends five of us studying for the summer in Haifa, the others in Jerusalem, two hours away. We moved into our rooms, settling into the routine of university life.
The sunny southern beaches of Haifa’s Mediterranean coast packed to capacity, swirling with beachgoers of all ages, wind surfers filling the sea beckoned to us. People of all ages and persuasions pursued their favorite activities, from backgammon to jogging, barbecuing to reading, paddleball to napping a polyglot society of people hailing from a hundred countries. Such was also the makeup of my classes at the university, where 250 students came for the summer from more than 30 countries. The weather was great, the hummus even better. I was in my element. But all this soon changed.
When we decided to study in the picturesque campus setting on top of Mount Carmel overlooking the Mediterranean, we hadn’t considered the statements emanating from Hezbollah’s leader, Hassan Nasrallah, that there is "no chance for (Israel’s) survival." While we knew that Hezbollah, supported by Syria and Iran to the tune of $100 million a year, had amassed 15,000 rockets and pointed them at Israel, the relative calm of the preceding six years had lulled us into the belief that Israel could be at peace.
It’s not that Hezbollah’s buildup was unknown. It’s not that Hezbollah hadn’t attacked Israel in the six years since Israel certifiably withdrew from southern Lebanon to the international border. Israel had been attacked, multiple times. It’s just that we the world, Lebanon, the U.N., Israel had not factored in their seriousness of their intent, the seriousness of their threats.
Less than a week into our study program, on Wednesday, July 12, we learned that a hundred Hezbollah terrorists had crossed into Israel, killed eight Israeli soldiers and kidnapped soldiers Ehud Goldwasser (age 31) and Eldad Regev (age 26).
Hezbollah began to fire katyusha rockets at dozens of towns and villages north of Haifa. Still we continued to attend our classes. In the afternoon we went to the beach. At the time our biggest concerns were avoiding the jellyfish in the sea and finding the best beach cafes for pita and hummus.
As we increasingly noted military helicopters flying north and heard the sonic booms of overflying jets, we understood the meaning of this even as we continued with the pretense of normal life. This, too, ended as we finished a briefing by a professor of Middle Eastern Affairs at the University of Haifa. While learning about the relationship between Syria and Lebanon, and the potential regional implications of Hezbollah’s attack, as well as its perceived military capabilities, we were informed that three katyusha rockets had struck Haifa.
We were now part of "the north."
As I sat in the bomb shelter with my suite mates, we spoke with shock and fear about the rockets that had landed nearby. The international news reports we were receiving from Web sites showed pictures of areas that looked all too familiar to us, areas that we had visited on a daily basis. We spoke about the worst-case scenario of a strike on the large industrial complex in the city’s port area, where chemicals such as chlorine were manufactured. We heard that in the event of an attack on this industrial area, the resulting poisonous gas explosion could potentially cause thousands of deaths. Sitting in the bomb shelter we read online about Hezbollah’s boasts of its ability and desire to strike this area.
The following morning was the first time in my life that I heard the sounds of war. On my way to class at 9:30 a.m., I heard five or six rockets exploding. Due to Haifa’s short distance from Lebanon, the sirens alerting people to take cover sounded only after the rockets had landed. Within the hour we read media reports saying that there were many casualties. Eight people were killed by one of the rockets at a train repair depot in the downtown district. We could see smoke rising from areas where rockets had fallen.
After that, rockets terrorized the city on a daily basis. Some 1.5 million residents of northern Israel were confined to bomb shelters or moved farther south. By the time of the cease-fire a month later, almost 900 such missiles had fallen on Haifa and a total of almost 4,000 missiles on the north of Israel.
While virtually none of the 250 students wanted to leave the country, even after hearing the sound of rockets exploding, it was family outside of Israel who insisted that many of the program’s participants return home. The news reports displaying the horrifying images instilled fear for the safety of loved ones.
While the situation was and would continue to be serious, a war in which thousands of Israelis would be injured and many killed by rockets filled with screws, ball bearings, and bolts, we could not help but be inspired by the Israelis who remained in Haifa and other northern towns.
The university, nevertheless, acting in what it perceived to be our best interest, transferred those of us who had remained in Haifa to the safety of the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, where we completed our courses four weeks later, 60 miles south.
As I spoke to Israeli friends, I learned that all the pictures I saw each day in the newspaper of dead soldiers in their teens and 20s and of their grieving Israeli families were due to the fact that the soldiers had been given orders to take care to protect Lebanese civilians. I was particularly affected by the death of Michael Levin (age 21) of Bucks County, Pa., whose background was similar to my own.
I believe the youth in Israel fight because they believe in freedom for both themselves and their Lebanese neighbors freedom from terrorism, freedom to live full and normal lives without war and without rockets. I heard the stories from those involved, and I saw the painful sacrifices, even as the foreign press spun a self-defensive war into a war of aggression.
No Israeli I spoke with wanted this war. I saw debates raging everywhere in Israel about justice and saving Lebanese lives I saw a society so concerned with doing the right thing that it was willing to sacrifice its own soldiers’ lives to do so. I saw proof of this each and every day. And yet I returned home and found only the reports of Israel’s "aggression" on the news. I watched CNN journalists talk with Hezbollah press secretaries about Israeli "evil," and I wondered "Where’s the story about the Israel I saw?"
I saw a society obsessed with justice and peace, fighting an enemy obsessed with destruction and terror. And yet, the combatants were seen as morally equivalent in the eyes of much of the world media. Even while 250 rockets fell on a daily basis packed to the brim with ball bearings that behave like bullets in a large area upon impact I saw that the Israelis did not lose hope for neighbors who might one day be taught to love, not hate.
As I begin my four years of university in just a few days, I can’t help but remember that kids my age in Israel are beginning their two to three years of military service.
This summer has opened my eyes to the other realities that exist throughout the world, in places like Haifa and Beirut. Those of us outside of these realities always have a skewed view as to what really goes on. But from personal experiences rockets outside my dorm window, newspapers full of casualties, discussions with everyday Israelis about war, justice, peace, terrorists, and civilians this summer I had, by all accounts, the definitive view. I saw the action from the ground, and I will never forget it.
A graduate of Princeton Day School, Daniel Rathauser of Montgomery left this week to begin study at the University of Michigan, where he intends to explore political science and other interests.

