“Dr. Strangelove” Or: “How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Bomb Shelter”
By Alan A. Mazurek, MD
Ah, what a complicated relationship we, like all Israelis, have with our shelter. I began writing this while sitting in our miklat. We unfortunately don’t have an in-house shelter known as a mamad, so we go to the building shelter, the miklat, which is two flights down, requiring going outside the building to access. (There are many others who don’t even have that and have to go across the street or even blocks away to a public shelter. So we are fortunate.) This column will be devoted to educating our American friends and relatives who may not be versed in the new language, nomenclature, and culture of the Israeli shelter. Israeli readers will not only not need to read this but will be sickened and nauseated by the topic because on average they have had to visit such facilities sometimes 2–3 times per day or more. And when they don’t have to actually go to the shelter, they have to sit in anticipation, waiting for the all-clear, because they’ve received a “pre-alert.” Israeli social media is filled with staged humorous scenes of everyday people interrupted by an alert or siren (more about the crucial difference in a moment) sitting down to a meal, taking a shower, or using the bathroom and how to artfully handle the challenge of quickly, but carefully trying to get to a shelter to save yourself in the minute and a half or less you’ve got to do so. Not easy if you’ve got a large brood to shepherd to safety, or you are asleep, or not home, among other things. And despite the fact these shelter facilities are truly lifesaving, often especially after the fifth or sixth episode of the day, you really begin to resent it, even as you know it is crucial to saving you and your loved one’s lives.
So for those who are not yet familiar with the subject, here are some basics:
A miklat is a building shelter, usually an underground facility, possibly a garage or basement, bunker-like structure. It was built many years ago to withstand bomb attacks and explosions. They can be private, for say, several residents of an apartment building, or larger public ones, used in malls, offices, or larger buildings. For those familiar with the arei miklat of the Torah, the only commonality is that both words “miklat” refer to refuge from attack. But the current miklat is no “city of refuge”; you don’t have to wait for the Kohen Gadol, High Priest, to die to get out, although sometimes you feel like committing intentional murder, not accidental murder, and want to kill someone, especially if you’ve had to repeatedly enter the miklat over and over again during the course of the day.
A mamad is an acronym for merchav mugan dirati, which means a protected area in a residence. These were built and required of all new construction after the Gulf War of the 1990s. They have reinforced concrete walls, specially designed and sealed windows and doors, to protect not only from bombs but also chemical attacks. They are usually relatively small, and double as an additional bedroom when not in use as a shelter. For that reason, the young kids often sleep together in that room, so you don’t have to wake them up and parade them at an alert; they are already there.
Upon a hostile missile or drone launch, special triangulated radar systems (thank you United States) all over the Middle East pick up the launch, relay it to satellites, which beam them to Israel where almost instantaneously they create a polygonal area of the anticipated impact to our tiny country. This allows for the Iron Dome, Arrow, and David’s Sling defense systems to leap into action. Simultaneously a coordinated air warning system sounds, consisting of a loud, annoying pre-alert from your and everyone else’s cell phone to tell you to “get ready,” and if it’s your area that’s targeted, five minutes or so later a siren will blare and you walk purposefully, not run, (most injuries occur on getting to the shelter in haste) to your safe space. You usually hear the booms of the interceptions as you are entering or while you are already, gratefully inside.
I’ve got to stop right here. Do you all realize how crazy this all is? We are talking about bomb shelters like we are talking about what additions we should make to our homes or building a new den, study, or playroom. Would you like the special flame-retardant carpeting, hyper-filtration HEPA air system, or blast proof doors suitable for 450 kg warheads? We are talking about bombs landing on us and killing us, like this is as natural as a summer thunderstorm. We act like this is “normal,” but it’s not. And the world (many of whom claim to be our friends and allies) doesn’t give a damn that “some pesky Jews” have to go hunkering down in their “bunkers” because the latest flavor of Jew hater wants to kill us. No, in fact they are angry and resentful that we are alive and survive these attacks because we were wise enough to create a four-tiered missile defense system to defend against attacks and a shelter system in case some missiles get through. They are upset that we Jews don’t just die and go away. They want more of us to die, so we can satisfy their desire for a “proportional response.” We are guilty of causing the rise in the price of oil and gasoline. The Green Party in the UK just declared Jews “abominations to the planet.” We are “the cause of all the evil” in the world just by breathing.
And how do we respond? Besides surviving and defeating our enemies yet still suffering the terrible costs of loss of life, injury, psychological trauma, displacement, and property damage, we respond with humor and humanity. Besides the amusing videos online, the shelters have created a culture all their own. People are meeting their neighbors, some for the first time. There are literally forming underground shidduch groups, party events, and pop-up shopping malls all burgeoning in the public and larger private spaces. Think of a Hebrew-speaking Tupperware party.
The evolution of Israeli society is highly adaptive, a sure-fire guarantee of survival. The shachen, neighbor who you barely know becomes a chaver, a friend. A group becomes a chevra, or if they become united in a particular purpose such as learning Torah, they may form a chabura. This forced socialization can only benefit society and in particular Klal Yisrael as a whole. We were being torn apart by religious, political, and economic divides. It’s almost as if Hashem has designed this system so we will come together as a people. In our little miklat we have dati leumi, American orthodox, egalitarian, chiloni, varieties of genders, backgrounds and political views. But we all shmooze, kvetch, yawn, shrug, and genuinely get along. We discover close connections to people we’ve never met before, unexpectedly and delightfully so, as can only be seen amongst a people as small in number as we Jews.
I reflected on this and recalled our wonderful rav, Shai Finkelstein and his Shabbat HaGadol derashah. He was talking about the evolution of the bringing and eating of the Korban Pesach, the requirement of every Jew on Passover, starting with the first Pesach in Mitzrayim. This was biblically focused on the bayit, the household. Each family had to designate those who would share this Pesach eve meal mitzvah together. In the desert and upon entry into the land of Israel, the mitzvah moved from the home to the Mishkan and then later to the Batei Mikdash, the First and Second Holy Temples. But after the destruction of those hallowed Houses of G-d, where did it go? The idea of the chaburah, the group that was purposely designated for sharing the Korban Pesach was derived by our sages from the very same Torah verses. While the particulars are beyond the scope of this column, Rav Shai’s point was that this was the place where Hashem’s Shechinah rested, whether there were two or three or five or ten or 100 Jews together, sharing His Torah and engaging in this mitzvah. Perhaps currently Hashem has forced us together into these shelters like the Heavenly Father He is, guiding us to safety but also promoting the unity that we have been so desperately lacking. The unity He has repeatedly told us is our most important and valued virtue, one that He is most desirous of, and will ultimately bring us to the geulahshelaimah and everlasting peace, not just for us, but the entire world.
Chag kasher v’sameach v’Shabbat shalom!
