Nobody blames Hamas for leaving their citizens unprotected. The blame goes to us for bombing them to stop their attack on us.
But right now in the north of Israel there are a couple hundred thousand people who are under constant rocket fire with little or no warning and no protection. And who are we blaming? our government.
The moral questions are simple. I refer to a poem of mine from the 1990’s that needs a tad updating:
HOSTAGE CRISIS
“One clear loser in the hostage crisis is Israel, which has
gone down nine points in the ratings” NBC, June 30, 1985
I
“This is the game …” You draw a diagram.
“First, a river” — a line across the page.
“On this side lives a husband and wife.”
You write (H) and (W) on the bottom half.
“On the other side are her lovers,” (L1) and (L2),
who live in view of each other.
(L1) loves (W) madly but (W) is mad for (L2)
who doesn’t really care but consents
to sleep with her when she’s there.
“There are two ways to cross the river —
a bridge and a boat. The boatman, (B),
for a coin will carry anyone anywhere.
The bridge is free, but from eight at night
until eight A.M. is patrolled by a murderer (M)
who destroys those who try to pass.
“One morning (W) goes to see (L2).
They spend all day in bed.
She is so besotted
she forgets the time, and it is eight.
“When she runs to (B) she sees
she has left her wallet at home
and asks to owe the money.
(B), a businessman,
does not operate on credit.
“Returning to (L2) she asks
for a small loan, but he — reiterating
what he said in the morning — shakes his head.
He has no ties to her, except, as she knows,
an indifferent willingness to acquiesce. Can
she stay the night, she asks. He shakes his head.
“(L1) watches her run down his path, desperate,
hysterical. ‘If you love me at all, please
lend me the money for the ride or give me a roof
for the night!’ ‘Not I — who have watched you two all day —
in love and pain — I will not be further used and wounded.’
“It is bitter cold, and if she sleeps outside
(W) will surely freeze. Perhaps, she thinks, the
murderer will not come out now. She tries
the only way left.
When she gets to this point,” You draw an (X)
with your pencil half-way across the bridge, “She is killed.
“Now,” you say in triumph, “List
the letters in order of responsibility.”
II
That was years ago and I, a young American, newly wed,
wrote down (W), (at least she should know
to take her purse) then (H), (who could not keep
his wife at home with love, understanding, reason,
who did not go to look for her).
The lovers were somewhere in the middle
but he who loved should have wanted
to save her, had an obligation to that love.
The one who didn’t care should
have cared for self respect.
The boatman — can you blame a capitalist?
At the bottom of the list, I wrote (M).
After all, I had been everyone, felt shame
for all of them, except the man on the bridge.
