Posted on March 1, 2024
Academics in a Time of War
Hello everyone! I am Shira, from Jerusalem, a student of urban planning, sociology, and anthropology at Hebrew University. I have chosen a sensitive topic to write about, and as saying anything beyond my limited experience seems totally wrong, I will start off by saying that I can only speak about myself.
In the last four months, I feel like the air in Israel has gone through a process of transformation. In the beginning, the air was thick; it was impossible to breathe. The feeling of having a lump in your throat was everywhere in the streets and gave no rest. For a moment, we returned a bit to the height of the COVID-19 pandemic: the cafes were all closed, and it felt like there was no reason to leave the house. A painful history was being written in our own lifetime. It is so strange to wake up one morning and find that the world as we know it has lost its vitality.
As the days went on, the air turned from thick to unbearably thin. The world that we knew lost its color. Every idea seemed crazy; everything we did seemed insignificant. This was not only because everything was put into perspective by the fragility of life; but it was also because we understood that we were facing something totally new, in which we were all children together. How do we start life anew?
We went back to our studies more than a month ago. The dynamics of transitioning between the morning news to academic elective courses felt like a seesaw, and it felt impossible to go back and forth. I went back to my studies, but my friends on reserve duty in the army were forced to accept that university was not waiting for them. They are in Gaza, and we went back to examining the world and the delicate craft that is called study. What strange transitions.
In the midst of the chaos, and together with the desire to find some kind of grasp on daily life, the war has taken and continues to take a heavy toll on me. Eitan Mor, a dear friend and colleague from work, was taken hostage from the Nova Festival on October 7th. As of this writing, no one knows what happened to him. Ben Mizrahi, may his memory be a blessing, a dear friend and much loved person, was killed on that same cursed day. Shai Pizam, may his memory be a blessing, a new father and an exemplary person, was killed in battle. These words are too limited to hold it all; and I do not want to make this whole piece into a list of names, because I feel like I have turned into a walking list of names.
Sometimes, my heart is broken from the feeling that it is impossible to live with this demand. Where is the guide hiding; who can explain to us what to do? Where do we go from here?
For four months I have felt like I am going around in the world like a new kind of orphan; there is no parent for this space; I see a new, upside-down world.
“All night I thought–
Inside my aching chest
are many creatures
and all kinds of stories.
I must light a candle
and gaze upon them.”
Zelda (translated by Marcia Falk)
It's That Time of Year!
If you believe in the power of transformation, make your gift to The Bronfman Fellowship today!
