ISRAEL AT 40 Today's Sabra: A Blend Of Contradictions HELEN DAVIS Israel Correspondent J erusalem — Take immigrants from more than a hundred lands, mix and blend and the result is a Sabra, the native- born Israeli who is named for the cactus fruit — prickly on the out- side, sweet on the inside. A cute oversimplification but sur- prisingly apt. For millions of Jews around the world, the Sabra — tall, handsome, sun- burned, plough in one hand, gun in the other — is the symbol of renewed pride and Jewish renaissance. Perhaps you guessed. The reality is a bit more complicated and not quite so romantic. Young Israelis are more like- ly to be academics, bureaucrats or fac- tory workers than pioneering farmers. And it's a long, long time since most of them danced the hora by firelight or wrote sentimental poetry about the Jewish homeland. The Sabra, in fact, scorns sentimen- tality of any sort. He prides himself on being straight- forward and plain-talking, often to the point of downright rudeness. Argument — strong, loud and ar- ticulate — is a major-league sport, although physical violence, like drunkenness, is rare. Ferociously critical of themselves and their country, they are also quick to resent the interference of outsiders, particularly those who pass judgment from the safety and comfort of more tranquil lands. Sabras display their fair share of contradictions. On the one hand, they are cyncial and energetic in their pur- suit of the good life, with the ultimate ambition of many being the ubiquitous "Three Vs"—Video, Volvo, Villa. It is typcal of Sabra irreverence that the word Zionism (Tzionut) is used in street argot to mean pompous preachiness. On the other hand, however, young Israelis act suspiciously like old- fashioned idealistic patriots. They will- ingly, if not uncomplainingly, pay among the highest taxes in the world, devote much of their youth to the army and live with the knowledge that the next war, like the last five, might be just around the corner. Sabra self-confidence is no accident. The Israeli child grows up in a society that values its children above all else. He is simultaneously pampered and prodded toward independence and the heavy demands that will be made on him the moment childhood is over. The result can be seen everywhere in youngsters who are boisterous, self- assertive and, cover your ears, noisy. At 18, life begins in earnest when both boys and girls (excluding those ex- empted on religious grounds) are drafted into the army, where they will spend the next few years (two for girls, three for boys, longer if they sign on for officer training) acquiring the skills that are necessary for defending their country. By the time they are free to look for a job or go to university — and one-third do go on to higher education — they are in their early to mid-twenties, often married (Sabras tend to marry and have children at a younger age than elsewhere in the West) and carrying family-size responsibilities. One result is that the atmosphere in Israeli universities is serious, focus- ed almost exclusively on getting that precious piece of paper which will pro- vide the passport to earning a living in the real world. Of the usual "games" students play, there is little sign. Stu- dent politics are left largely to those who are carefully grooming themselves for a political career. "I think that they are less reflective, more impatient than their counterparts at universities in the United States," says a professor of economics at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. "They're not as well-read and pro- bably not as well-rounded. And they are under tremendous strains. There is ar- my reserve duty for men, usually an outside job, often a family to support. Study is not the totality of their lives. They don't have that luxury. But as students they are good, very good." The state of the Sabras is relentless- ly monitored by older Israelis anxious to know if the post-Holocaust genera- tions, which have grown up in their own land untouched by anti-Semitism, are performing as planned. The answer seems to be yes and no. The Sabras are maintaining proud Jewish traditions of scholarship, scien- tific research and excellence in fields like medicine and law. When Israeli leaders speak of "Jewish brain power" as being Israel's main national resource, it is no idle boast. There is a whole new crop of home- grown musical prodigies coming on stream ready to step into the shoes of such other Israeli luminaries as Daniel Barenboim, Pinhas Zukerman and It- zhak Perlman. Indigenous theater, dance, film, poetry and literature — all with a distinctly Israeli accent — are proof of the continuation of a vigorous cultural heritage. Young Israelis are perhaps the first generation of Jews in 2,000 years who have grown up as an unselfconscious majority. When virtually everyone, from the president to the postman, is Jewish, when the language they speak and the holidays they celebrate are all Jewish, there is nothing to be self-conscious about. One irony is that many among the secular young Israelis scarcely think of themselves as being Jewish at all: they are Israelis, period. The hostility from Arab neighbors, the wars they fight are perceived in national rather than religious terms. Diaspora Jews who feel so pas- sionate a connection with Israel and its people are sometimes dismayed when finally meeting young Israelis to discover that their Israeli brothers and sisters do not always feel the same in- tense bond. Israeli humor is a keen barometer of this difference. Vivid and vital, it is nonethless a far cry from the famed, ascerbic, self- mocking Jewish humor of the Diaspora. It is not minority wit, but the joking around of a self-confident majority, albeit one that has taken a battering over the past five months. Concurrent with the growth of con- fidence, however, is a waning of ideological fervor. High school teachers and army officers in charge of training 18-year-old recruits are concerned that so many young people are reaching maturity without a clear grasp of Jewish history and tradition and, therefore, no real concept of what their country represents and why they should sacrifice so much to defend it. In contrast, however, are the thousands of young Israelis who have returned to their Jewish roots with a vengeance. Yeshivot which cater ex- clusively to this phenomenon have mushroomed. Nothing could be further from the vision of Israel's secular- socialist founding fathers. What the Sabra is creating is, in essence, a culture and a society that is a blend of East and West, at once tradi- tional and ultra-modern. One-third of all marriages are "mixed"— Ashkenazi/Sephardi and the resulting progeny not only look dif- ferent from their forebears, they in- creasingly think and act differently, too. There is no knowing whether the current trend among young people towards ultra-nationalist, anti- democratic philosophies is transient or the wave of the future. THE FIFTH DECADE WAR IN LEBANON: In 1982, Israel launched an attack on the PLO into Lebanon, subsequently moving as far north as Beirut. The most controversial of Israel's wars, the conflict resulted in world criticism and heavy casualties on all sides. PLO TERRORISM: Violence increased in the early 1980s, particularly from PLO positions in Lebanon where attacks were launched on northern Israel. FRIDAY, APRIL 22, 1988 RELIGIOUS TENSION: Conflicts between religious and secular Jews increased over issues ranging from amending the "Who is a Jew" clause in the Law of Return to screening films on the Sabbath in Jerusalem.