"From the age of zero I was told that Israel
stole Palestine from us, but when I was 14 I woke up. I discovered that
Jews are not bad," says Ala Wahib, an operations officer at a key IDF
training base, and the highest-ranked Muslim officers in the Israeli
army.
Maj. Ala Wahib in the field.
|
Photo credit: Osnat Krasnansky |
|||||
|
“I am the operations officer at the IDF ground
forces training base at Tze’elim,” Ala Wahib says at the start of our
conversation, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “I am like the mother
and father of that place,” he adds. “The only thing is that I don’t
really have anyone to share it with, so I make sure to pat myself on the
back every now and again, and say ‘dude, you’re awesome. Look how far
you’ve come.’”
The truth is that he deserves these accolades.
It is not every day that a Muslim Arab, hailing from a village whose
residents largely do not recognize Israel’s right to exist, comes to
serve in the Israel Defense Forces. And he doesn’t only serve: Major
Wahib, 32, is currently the highest ranking Muslim officer in the IDF.
He is enormously patriotic, a true Zionist. Precisely the kind of person
we like to see lighting the torches during the national Independence
Day ceremony every year.
But still, Wahib came to this interview with
immense trepidation. Even today, after 12 years in the Israeli military,
he still doesn’t feel comfortable openly discussing his views. For
years he struggled on all fronts: he fought against the residents of his
village, who to this day refer to him as a traitor, and he fought the
military institution that never fully understood his motives.
“In my village, they can’t understand what
could possibly motivate me to protect a country that is not my own. In
the army there are people who know me and would go all the way with me,
but there are those who don’t know me and don’t really know how to
relate to me,” he says.
So why did he decide to give this interview,
with his face exposed and his full name in print? “Because it is
important to me to show the Arab public what they are missing. There are
quite a lot of people [in the Arab community] who want to enlist, but
they are afraid and they don’t know if they will be accepted by their
environment. It is important to me to show them the road I’ve traveled,
and to make them understand that it is possible.” Regardless, he doesn’t
take his hand off his gun for a second during the entire interview. “It
is my security. It is my only means of protecting myself,” he says.
His Hebrew is fluent, without a hint of an
accent, and he could easily be mistaken for an average Tel Avivian. A
map of the training grounds hangs on his office wall, and his green eyes
constantly sweep it, making sure again and again that everything is
under control. Every once in a while a soldier will knock on the door,
asking permission for this or that mission, and one of them, noticing
the newspaper crew, can’t resist and says “write that he is the best
commander there is.” Wahib tries to hide an embarrassed smile and tells
the soldier to get his backside back to the field.
He describes himself as a “Zionist Israeli
Arab.” Four years ago he went on a tour of Nazi extermination camps in
Poland, together with his fellow officers, as part of the IDF’s
Witnesses in Uniform program. “As a child,” he says, “I grew up in a
society that denies the Holocaust. When I arrived in Poland I was
shocked. I cried a lot. It was difficult to contain this thing called
genocide. There was something very powerful in the fact that I was
standing on Polish soil, holding an Israeli flag and donning the uniform
of the Israeli army, but this time from a position of power. It was
proof that we can’t be broken.”
When Wahib says “we” he means the Jewish
people. “I believe in the Muslim faith, and I will never abandon it, but
I think that Zionism is more than a religion. It is something that
fully represents my sense of belonging to the State of Israel and to
Israeli society, and the immense commitment I have to protecting and
guarding the country of which I am part.”
Hold on a second. Doesn’t protecting Israel’s security mean fighting your own people?
“Look, I served in Lebanon, in Gaza and Judea
and Samaria and I took part in plenty of clashes where my life was in
danger. I never, not for a second, ever thought of leaving. I never
asked myself ‘what am I doing here?’ As far as I am concerned, there is
no other way.”
I never threw rocks
He was born in the village of Reineh in the
Galillee, which currently houses some 17,000 residents, more than 80
percent of whom are Muslim. His father was born in Syria, and had two
wives. Each wife had four children. Wahib is the second son of the
second wife. Today he lives alone in the village, in a huge house that
he built himself. The dichotomy that characterizes his life can easily
be seen in his house: modern Israeli furniture side by side with
traditional Arab pieces. Two statues of dogs welcome guests, perhaps as a
warning to ill wishers to keep their distance.
His family lives on the other side of the
village, and has no contact with him. “It is not because I went to the
army,” he rushes to explain. “It would make sense for my family not to
accept my enlistment, but that is the one thing they could actually live
with. My father even supported me. The problem was that after he died, I
met a Christian girl. My mother forbade the relationship, and the
entire family exerted heavy pressure on us to break up. There were a lot
of confrontations. I didn’t want it to become violent, so we had no
choice but to split up. The way things look now, I don’t see how we
could ever be together. That is why I severed ties with my family. The
only family member I am still in touch with is, of all people, my
father’s other wife and her children. They are now my only family.”
The price he pays for serving in the IDF is
dear. It is a price he pays daily. He has no contact with any of the
people in his village, and the only friends that ever visit are his
colleagues from the army. “In Arab society it is customary to be
involved in each other’s lives, there is no privacy,” he says sadly. “I
often prefer the company of the cows that graze down here. They don’t
judge me, they let me live my life in peace. I built this house to show
everyone all that I’ve achieved – in our society the size of your house
is a social status symbol. But today there is nothing tying me to this
place. When people ask me where my home is, I immediately answer that my
home is my room on the base.”
Why don’t you leave the village?
“I lived in Jewish communities for several
years – in Yavne’el, Korazim and She’ar Yashuv. A year ago I returned to
the village. I suppose I will leave again soon. You have probably
noticed that I haven’t worked on the yard yet, and as long as there’s no
garden, the home is a temporary one. I decorated this house with my
Christian girlfriend. It is difficult for me to leave this house now – I
have so many memories.”
The overwhelming majority of residents of
Wahib’s village do not recognize Israel’s right to exist on “Palestinian
land.” Wahib says that “from the age of zero I was told that Israel
took Palestine away from us, so naturally I referred to myself as a
citizen of Palestine. I didn’t recognize the Israeli flag, and I
certainly didn’t see myself as part of the country. Every once in a
while I would take part in an anti-Israel demonstration, but I never
threw rocks.”
He woke up, he says, when he was 14 years old
and began studying at the technological high school in Nazareth – a
Christian boarding school. There he was exposed to the modern world for
the first time. The distance from the village and the family, during
these teenage years when one develops an identity, took its course.
“The Christian Arabs’ culture is similar to
the Europeans'. They are less fanatic and far more modern than the
Muslims. The lessons at the school followed Education Ministry
guidelines, and I suddenly discovered a world that I never knew existed.
I discovered that the Jews weren’t as bad as I was told growing up. I
discovered that they have a good side that I am drawn to. I identified
with their principles and the way they protect one another. I felt that I
wanted to become a part of this country.”
At the age of 18 he approached a human
resources company, looking for a job. He was sent to the Rabintex
factory in Beit She’an to manufacture defense gear. “I would manufacture
helmets and flak jackets and I would sew bulletproof vests. That is
where I began to see things differently, to think differently. That is
also where I began speaking Hebrew. You could say that I really emerged
from the bubble I had been living in. My eyes were opened wide and when
that happens, it is very difficult to close them again.”
The call up
Wahib put in a request with the IDF to enlist.
“Once every few weeks I would travel to the IDF recruitment office in
Tiberias to find out why I wasn’t being called up. The only answer I
received was ‘you have to wait. There is no answer yet.’ At one point I
gave up. I decided to register for automotive engineering studies at a
college in Haifa.
“Suddenly, one bright morning, after two years
of waiting, the army called. I will never forget that moment. They said
‘get to the induction center in two days.’ I had no idea what an
induction center was. I didn’t know what to bring. I didn’t have anyone
to ask, either. I said goodbye to my parents, threw some underwear and a
towel in a bag and took off.”
As a volunteer, Wahib requested to serve in
the Nahal. Not because he knew what the Nahal was, but because he had
once heard a friend say it was a good unit. “When I was at the induction
center, I thought that those commanders would determine my future in
the IDF so I thought it was important to impress them. For a whole week I
did everything the drill sergeant could possibly ask, I volunteered for
every kitchen duty, I cleaned up cigarette butts without even being
asked to, just so they would let me go to Nahal. I refused to go to any
other unit. I don’t know if that is what did it, but ultimately I was
sent to Nahal boot camp. There was no one happier than me.”
As fate would have it, Wahib’s first days in
the IDF were during a particularly tempestuous time in Israel – the
Second Intifada. Riots broke out in his village and neighboring villages
across the Galilee. “The fear was insane, and I had quite a few doubts
about even staying in the army. One of the dangers was going home in
uniform. I remember that the army suggested that I change into civilian
clothes at the bus station to avoid confrontations. But it was very
clear to me that I was going all the way with the truth I believed. I
still used side roads, however, so as to run into as few people as
possible.”
“I still remember, to this day, the looks I
would get. Children would follow me around calling me ‘Jew’ and
‘traitor’ and very quickly I realized that it was better to be smart
than to be right. I tried to come home late at night, to draw as little
fire as possible.
Do you still avoid walking around the village in uniform?
“Yes. I don’t want to stir up trouble. I
sometimes come home late at night, starving, and I want to stop at the
convenience store to buy something to eat but I don’t dare do it in
uniform. By the time I go home and change I don’t have the energy to go
out again. I remember one time when I couldn’t resist and I came into
the village with an Israeli flag attached to my car. I was sure that
someone would take it down, but it was still there in the morning.”
And how were you treated by the soldiers?
“There were always those who were afraid to
get close to me, and didn’t speak to me, calling me ‘Arab.’ But anyone
who served with me knew that I was with them all the way. At the end of
the day, these people who slept next to me on adjacent beds were my
family. They ate with me, and they shared with me all the goodies they
got in care packages from home.”
Wahib, for his part, still with very little
Hebrew and a heavy Arabic accent at the time, realized that he would
have to work much harder than anyone else to be accepted into this
family. “I worked my ass off. I carried people. I spit up blood. I
completed almost every level of the army with honors. Suddenly I heard
that people were talking about me everywhere. I realized that I was
good.”
Despite his successes, he knew that wherever
he went, and as many honors as he got, his ethnic background would
always be with him and never let him go. Instead of going to the Nahal’s
reconnaissance platoon, which is considered more elite, he was sent to
the Granite Battalion. That is where he first learned about his security
clearance, and what a huge obstacle his background posed. “I completed
boot camp with honors, and guys who weren’t nearly as good as me were
accepted into the reconnaissance unit, and I wasn’t. I was deeply
insulted, demanding answers from my commanding officer, and I refused to
back down until he told me that it was because of my security
clearance.”
He completed his preparatory officer’s
training third in his brigade, but again, because of security clearance,
he was not allowed to go to the officer’s training course. His feelings
were hurt and he asked for some time off. He sat at home and waited. “I
had a major crisis,” he says, and the scars are still evident. “I
almost gave up and got myself discharged. I couldn’t understand how I
was giving my all and getting nothing but endless obstacles in return. I
couldn’t understand why I kept having to prove my loyalty over and over
again.”
Wahib sat at home for a week and waited for
answers. Finally, he was given the go ahead for the officer’s training
and he was over the moon. After he completed the officer’s training
course he went back to the Granite Battalion to command over boot camp
at the same base where he got his start. Knowing that he would have a
hand in shaping the future generation of IDF soldiers gave him immense
satisfaction. “It was the first time that I had fighters under my
command, 56 guys, and I learned the true meaning of leadership. I got
soldiers who just enlisted, and I groomed them and raised them to be the
type of soldiers that I want them to be,” he says proudly. “I actually
left my mark on them.”
No one will ever catch me off guard
In the various command posts that he has
filled, Wahib has found himself in complex situations many times. One
such situation occurred when he was appointed operations officer of the
Southern Gaza Territorial Brigade (Katif Brigade) just as the 2005
withdrawal from Gaza was underway. “I would stand in front of Jews, and
they didn’t believe that I was there to protect them. The situation was
extremely charged. In retrospect, I think I managed to get through it
without any extraordinary clashes.”
After a year and a half in the post, Wahib
left the Nahal for the first time and served as a trainer at the
National Urban Training Center (known by its Hebrew acronym MALI). This
is where he first became acquainted with all the different units that
use the facility for training. After another year and a half, he served
as an operations officer in Judea and Samaria.
“I found myself in Judea and Samaria, dealing
with a fanatic Arab population and a Jewish population who was there
because of their beliefs, and they both hate each other. I think that it
was there, of all places, that the fact that I was Arab gave me an
advantage. I was often able to accurately assess the situation thanks to
my understanding of Arab mentality.”
“One day, a young Arab woman arrived at the
checkpoint with a knife and tried to stab a soldier. When I was called
to the scene she burst into tears and showed me her body. It was covered
with black and blue marks. I understood that she had been severely
beaten at home for having soiled the family’s honor and that she didn’t
really want to kill a soldier. It was just her way of getting away from
her family. She preferred to be in an Israeli jail rather than going
back home, possibly to her death.”
“When I understood that, though I really
couldn’t justify what she had done, I tried to help her. Her family came
to the checkpoint to retrieve her, and I literally protected her with
my body. They beat me and spit on me. At one point I had to call for
backup just to end the incident. The girl was ultimately arrested, but I
have no doubt that my interference had saved her. That is just one
example of a situation that could have easily ended differently.”
About seven months later, Wahib began training
to become a company commander and was appointed to a command post in
the Caracal Battalion, which operates along the Egypt border. From there
he made his way to Tze’elim. Since 2009 he has served as the deputy
commander of the IDF’s Urban Warfare Branch. “All the IDF units,
including reserves units, even the most elite, have been trained by me,”
he says with unabashed pride.
Have you ever felt that the soldiers under you command doubted your leadership?
“Not even once. I think that I have excellent
leadership abilities, and I see the bigger picture, precisely because of
where I come from. I have always struggled and worked very hard not to
let anyone ever catch me off guard. On nights before giving a lecture to
soldiers I would sit at the base and study like crazy all night long,
just so they would not catch me unprepared. I think I have also passed
my tenacity on to my soldiers.”
Wahib was only appointed to the post of
operations officer at Tze’elim last week. His seat is not even warm yet,
but to an outside observer he looks like he has been sitting in it for a
long time. He has a firm grip on every training area under his command,
and he explains that “MALI is one of the bases with the most live fire
training facilities. I am responsible for all the training facilities at
Tze’elim where training and drills take place. I have to be fully
synchronized with everyone all the time, to avoid a situation in which
two units train at the same facility at the same time. That could be
disastrous. And there are a lot of Bedouin here too who infiltrate the
live fire training grounds to collect shells and sell them later, and I
have to make sure that this doesn't happen during a live training
exercise. It is a lot of responsibility.”
Wahib “is one of the best officers in the
IDF,” says Lt. Col. Itzik Cohen, who currently serves as the commander
of the Givati training base, but served as Wahib’s commander for the
last three years. “He sacrificed a lot in order to be where he is today,
went through a lot of anguish, and I will go out on a limb and say that
woe is the IDF if it fails to hug him and welcome him and keep him in
the army. I did, and will do, everything in my power to keep him in the
system. We don’t let good people go that easily. Wahib got an
opportunity to prove himself in a very important, key post. It is
exactly the kind of post one gets promoted from. I believe in him.”
Wahib is under contract to serve for another
year. During this year, he hopes to get promoted to a post that will
keep him in the military. He wants to get as far as possible in the
ranks, but the fear of disappointment lets him dream of only one
achievement at a time. “I hope to make lieutenant colonel and continue
in a core post,” he says.
His eventual discharge worries him. “My
uniform, my rank, my officer’s card – these are my VIP ticket into
Israeli society, they protect me. When I take off my uniform and go back
to being a regular citizen, I will once again have to deal with the
fact that I am an Arab citizen in the State of Israel.”
Do you believe that things will change in the future, and that you won’t need a VIP ticket to protect you one day?
“The State of Israel has a lot of different
colors. There is a wide variety. Two peoples live here, and the sooner
we recognize it, the faster we can minimize the damage. I think that the
fact that I am an officer in the IDF communicates a positive message to
the Arabs living here. I want to believe that the path that I chose
will prove to them that there is another way. My nephew and my cousin
enlisted in the Border Police this year, for example. I support them and
I help them, with my experience.”
“I feel that I am on a mission. I hope that in
the future there will be a lot more Muslim Arab officers in the IDF,
and that by virtue of us being human beings we will find a way to
communicate and find solutions for a shared life.”
No comments:
Post a Comment