A discussion of the social aspects of theater requires several
theoretical and methodological assumptions, the most important of
which refers to the theater as representing a social experience. It
is accepted that while the theater does not strictly reflect any
given social reality, it does fashion it to its own particular
needs, and in doing so, enables the theatrical disclosure of both
hidden conflicts and overt dissension1.
One important aspect of the theater's approach to "public thought"
is that of "the public nature of drama", as George Lukacs terms the
circumstances of staging a play and its means of reception by the
audience2. Theater, after all, is carried out in a public place,
much like a political performance. An additional factor is the
number of addressees: the problem, dilemma or political argument is
presented before audiences whose numbers, even for a mediocre
performance, can reach tens of thousands. To this, we can add what
John Fiske calls "vertical intertextuality": all the articles and
other information that accompany the play and are served up by the
media3. Consequently, plays taking a stand on a conflict central to
Israeli society may have a powerful ideological effect. The
combination of these components illustrates the importance of the
debate being carried out on Israeli stages over such issues as the
religious-secular divide or the Palestinian-Israeli conflict.
Israeli culture has sought ways of presenting solutions to
society's conflicts, particularly the rift between Jews and Arabs.
This was carried out at first by carefully reproducing the
hegemonic status of the secular-western sector of society, for whom
the institution of theater served as a tool. Problems were raised
and "solved" on the theatrical stage during the first years of the
State of Israel's existence. From the 1980's onwards, especially
during the war in Lebanon (1982-85), Hebrew theater began to
feature biting revelations of hostilities, discord and
contradictions, which it presented as insoluble. During the same
period, "mainstream" Zionist culture progressively weakened, as
evidenced in many literary, theatrical and cinematic texts.
The issue of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict has slowly begun to
occupy an important place in Hebrew theater, particularly within
the past few decades. The process of the Arab's "absorption" into
Hebrew drama and Jewish Israeli theater was slow and hesitant.
Prior to 1985, no Arab characters were presented on the "main"
stage and their theatrical existence was restricted to fringe
theater. Between 1973 and 1982, Arab characters appeared in 29
plays staged in Israel. Most of these characters had focal roles,
which turned them, and the problem they were representing, into the
major theme of the play. The culmination of this process occurred
between 1982 and 1995, when Arab characters could be found in over
100 of the plays staged in Israeli theaters, mainly representing
the Palestinian side in the dispute.
At first glance, a gap seems to exist between actual Jewish-Arab
relationships and their stage portrayal. Various studies examining
the attitude of the Jewish majority to the Arab minority and to the
Palestinians exposed alienation, and in recent years, hostility. I
shall attempt to provide an explanation for this seeming
discrepancy between the generally perceived image of the Arab in
Israeli society and the increased presence of the Arab image in the
Israeli theater over the last 20 years.
Most of the plays that present Arabs in the Israeli theater are
political texts that use the characters to deliver ideological
claims. Occasionally an Arab character is written into a text in
which the playwright fails to relate to him/her, but deals instead
with his own difficulties as a Jew in a society undergoing a
process of change. In general, the development of the Arab
character is subordinated to the ideological or political
statement, while at most other times he is an icon on the map of
Jewish Israeli ideological consciousness. The majority of plays do
not reflect reality as it is but, rather, reflect the wish of their
creators to take a stand and attempt to influence the situation.
The repertoire of the Israeli theater, in this respect, is one of
the components of this reality; a factor that determines and
fashions a historical reality alongside other elements: political,
social, economic, religious and ideological.
Although the Jewish attitude towards the Arabs underwent important
changes from the end of the 1960s to the 1990s, the similarity
between the characteristics of the Israeli theater-goer and that
sector of the Jewish population whose declared attitude to the
Arabs is a positive one is not coincidental: they are one and the
same group or, at least, there is great overlap between
them4.
The Israeli theater has employed several strategies to circumvent
social obstacles in presenting its position with regard to the Arab
theme; these have included the choice of a suitable genre, such as
through the "back door" of satire. For several decades, the Arab
was portrayed theatrically as a comic figure. This distancing from
the "serious" genres led to his representation as a character of
lesser importance, reflecting the secondary status given to the
"Arab Question" by Israeli society in the 1950s and 1960s. Then in
the 1970s and 1980s, the place of the Arab among the dramatis
personae changed and he became a central figure in many plays. In
recent years, the more realistic stage portrayal of the Arab
reflects the change from an ethnocentric and stereotypical approach
to one that is finally recognizing the "Other", and attempting to
come to terms with his humanity.
These changes were aided by another strategy, that of casting Arab
actors in plays by Chekhov, Strindberg, Beckett or Fugard which
relocated the plot in the Jewish-Arab conflict. Samuel Beckett's
Waiting for Godot, staged by the Haifa Municipal Theater (1985,
1994) became one of the most important plays on the Jewish-Arab
theme. It was adapted/translated into Hebrew and Arabic by Anton
Shamas who located it firmly in the Israeli-Arab dispute. Its
director, Ilan Ronan, gave a uniquely Israeli-Palestinian
interpretation to the play, with the role of the master taken by a
Jewish Israeli actor while those of the tramps went to Arab Israeli
actors. The set became an Israeli building site. The choice of
stage location was politically significant - Wadi Salib, in the
heart of the Arab neighborhood in Haifa.
Performances with these elements of adaptation, casting, theatrical
space, set design, props, costumes or music - all together or in
combination - have commanded an important place in the Israeli
theater repertoire.
Despite these changes in both the Arab image and the frequency of
its appearance in the theater, no real change appears to have taken
place in its actual function within the Hebrew dramatic narrative
over the last 90 years. In most of the texts from 1912 to 2002, the
same dualism can be found, whose source lies in the
attraction/repulsion of the Jews towards the "otherness" of the
Arab: an image that is perceived on the one hand as noble and
generous, and on the other as savage and violent. Such Arab
characters first appeared in 1912, in Alla Karim, by L.A.
Arieli.
A clear expression of how the Arabs were perceived in the period of
settlement, as culturally inferior, can be found in the stuttering
Hebrew they are made to speak in the plays. Only those positive
figures who support the Zionist enterprise speak correct, or at
least intelligible, Hebrew.
Violence, lies, deceit and servility characterize the traits
displayed by Arabs, both individually and as a group, in the plays
of the 1912-1948 period. These reflect the stereotypes that,
according to a study by Anita Shapira, were already common among
the Jewish community from the end of the 19th century5. The Arabs
were depicted as violent and aggressive towards their own people
and as a threat to the existence of the Jews. Blood feuds were
offered by the playwrights as a clear example of their violent
nature. Ali in Alla Karim is a savage, thirsting for revenge, and
at the end of the play, he kills one of the pioneers. This violence
is generally one-sided: there are very few instances in which Jews
demonstrate violence towards Arabs. When a Jew does use violence
against an Arab, he bewails his guilt and hastens to excuse his
behavior as unavoidable.
Plays from the settlement period that featured Arab figures were
written by peace-oriented playwrights, and this remains the
situation today. Arabs appear only among those plays written by the
liberal intelligentsia who are attempting to reach an understanding
with them - at least on stage. Conciliation is generally seen as
imperative, both for mutual interests and to maintain the progress
introduced by the Jews, as they see it, for the benefit of all -
albeit in two separate communities.
The discrepancy I mentioned between the disputed and hostile
reality and the ways in which this has been presented in the
Israeli theater, with its profusion of texts dealing with the
subject, is not as great as it would appear from repertoire
statistics. Outwardly, the more recent theatrical texts attempt to
allay fears through a generally sympathetic depiction of Arab
characters and the casting of their roles with well-known and
respected Arab actors. However, reading the texts, or watching
their performance, will often reveal barely concealed expressions
of fear and pessimism. The most common "contradiction" is that
between the spirit of conciliation in the text and its almost
always pessimistic ending. This pattern is repeated too many times
to be merely coincidental. Despite a desire for a peaceful
situation, few of the plays see this as possible and their endings
waver between the open-ended, the blocked and the
pessimistic.
This is particularly prominent in love stories, which always end in
either forced or voluntary separation. Forty Israeli plays staged
in the last 30 years feature love stories between Arab characters
and their Jewish counterparts. There does not appear to be anything
particularly unusual in this fact, for many dramas are "love
stories" which deal with the attempt to overcome barriers of race,
creed and religion. The Jewish Israeli playwright generally treats
the subject of intimate Jewish-Arab relationships with
understanding and even a certain sympathy; despite such relations
between Jews and Arabs, male or female, having been considered
against the norm by both peoples since the beginning of the Jewish
settlement in Israel and up to the present time. The explanation
for the frequent occurrence of this theme in Israeli theater should
therefore be sought in the world of the Israeli playwright and
perhaps perceived as a metaphor for the desire for conciliation -
for there is nothing like a "love story" to represent a yearned-for
peace.
An interesting example of this is The Return by Miriam Kaney
(1973), the first among many Israeli plays in which the character
of a male Arab has been found "acceptable" for intimate relations
with a Jewish woman. However, his "acceptability" is conditioned by
the blurring of his Arab identity and his cultural assimilation
into Jewish society. Fluent and even literary Hebrew is spoken by
these Arab characters in the course of their legitimization into
fitting partners for Jewish women. They are educated members of the
free professions, and their female Jewish partners are generally of
western background, liberal-minded, students, or well-educated
professionals. The relationship formed between them is one of real
love, with a tendency to motifs of love conquering all barriers of
enmity. The character of Riad in The Return is the prototype of the
Arab as lover. The objection of Riad's father to the liaison and
Riad's own loyalty to his Arab village are the reasons given for
the eventual separation. In many other plays, the separation also
follows social or family pressure. In this way, the Israeli
playwright achieves a double goal, by suggesting that although
relationships are possible between Arab and Jew, they will
encounter psychological and social barriers.
Beyond merely telling the story of certain individuals, these plays
deal with the problematics of Jewish-Arab relations in general,
including the fear of an apparently powerful rival who might
appropriate the place of Jews whose power has diminished. Only in
one play does a couple succeed in overcoming the barrier. However,
there are no happy Jewish-Arab families in the Israeli
theater.
Following the outbreak of the first Intifada, additional changes
began to occur in the image of the Arab character. He was no longer
an Israeli Arab, but in many texts had become a Palestinian from
the Occupied Territories. Research by Kalman Benyamini (1990)
reveals that young Israeli Jews perceived the Palestinians as
negative and frightening. Palestinian society, as portrayed in the
plays of the 1990s, reflects this particularly among young
playwrights. In several of these plays, the knife as a theatrical
prop represents the violent side of Palestinian society. In Masked
by Ilan Hatzor (1990), set in a butcher's shop against a backdrop
of a dirty and bloodstained wall, an Intifada activist stabs his
brother to death for collaborating with the Israeli authorities.
The link between knife and Palestinian also appears in Israeli
satire. In Hey Rimona by Ilan Hatzor and Ilan Sheinfeld (1992), the
voice of a Palestinian is heard offstage even before he enters: "To
cut or not to cut, that is the question." Similar traits are also
attributed to Palestinian characters by Israeli Arabs: in The First
Stone by Miriam Yachil-Wax (1993), based on detailed research by
both the Jewish playwright and the Israeli Arab actress Salwah
Nakara-Hadad, the autopsy report is read of a young Arab woman who
was brutally murdered because she wanted a divorce from her elderly
husband.
At first glance these plays appear to complicate the inherent
difficulty in reaching a possible settlement with the Palestinians,
and even seem to express an aversion to such conciliation. In fact,
the texts constitute a late phase of a structure that has existed
in the Israeli theater since the 1970s, which bridges the apparent
contradiction between the hostile reality and the "optimistic"
presentation of this dispute in the theater. In theatrical texts of
the 1990s, the political message of the playwrights is even
clearer: they are instructing politicians to negotiate with the
Arabs. One question that remains to be answered concerns the extent
of the contribution of the Jewish Israeli theater to co-existence
with Israeli Arabs and to a possible solution to the dispute with
the Palestinians.
In general, spectators at a theatrical performance find themselves
simultaneously within the world of the stage and outside it. They
may therefore adopt a critical stand towards what is being shown on
stage, and connect its contents with extra-theatrical social and
political referents. Regarding the Jewish-Arab conflict there is
also the cumulative effect of the rise in the number of plays
dealing with the "Arab Question" and, from the 1980s, the
"Palestinian Question". All the factors that I have presented here,
taken together, validate the assumption that the Arab image in
Israeli theater represents a wish to settle the dispute and has
contributed to public thought by emphasizing the strong desire of a
group of Jewish Israeli spectators for conciliation with the Arab
section of their population. The contribution of the theater is
especially important in the years during which a solution appears
to be far off. In this respect, the theatrical texts that staged
the Palestinian problem in the 1980s constituted an artistic
avant-garde that urged and demanded the beginning of that difficult
conciliation process with the Palestinians.*
*This article was first presented as a paper, "1948-1998:
Fifty Years of Hebrew Culture in Israel", at the University of
Chicago, 1998. It is based on my books: The Arab in the Israeli
Drama and Theater, London and New York, Routledge, Harwood, 1997.
The Judaic Nature of Israeli Theater: A Search for Identity, London
and New York, Routledge, Harwood, 2000.
1 Patrice Paves, "Production et reception au theatre: la
concretization du texte dramatique et spectaculaire", in Voix et
Images de la Scene, Lille, Presses Universitaires de Lille, 1985,
285
2 George Lukacs, The Historical Novel, trans. Hannah and Stanley
Mitchell, Harmondsworth, Penguin, 1969; 150.
3 John Fiske, Television Culture, London and New York, Routledge
1987; 108-127.
4 The results of the research of the Arab image among Israeli youth
in 1990, as obtained from Kalman Benyamini. See also K. Benyamini,
Political and Civil Standpoints of Jewish Youth in Israel, Research
Report, Jerusalem, the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Faculty of
Social Sciences, Department of Psychology, 1990; 4-5,6,7,11 (in
Hebrew). Another study into the Israeli Arab image among Jews in
Israel carried out by Mina Zemach in 1980 revealed a prejudiced
negative opinion regarding the violence of Israeli Arabs; an
additional study carried out in September 1987 prior to the
outbreak of the intifada showed that the reservations of Jewish
Israeli youth regarding the Arabs was higher in comparison with
other sections of the population. The two studies are quoted in:
Uzi Benziman, Atallah Mansour, Sub-tenants, Jerusalem, Keter, 1992;
29 (in Hebrew). Research carried out among Jewish pupils after the
outbreak of the intifada, revealed "stereotype hatred" among
approximately 40 percent of the youth, expressed as fear of
economic competition among one group of those questioned and an
extreme right-wing political ideology among another group. The
research report of Ofra Meisels and Reuven Gal, Hatred of Arabs
among Jewish High-School Pupils, Zikhron Yaakov, The Israel
Institute for Military Studies, 1989 (in Hebrew).
5 Anita Shapira, Land and Power, 1881-1948, Tel Aviv, Am Oved,
1992; 94 (Hebrew)