 By Naomi Ragen
It wasn't a pretty sight: tires burning, hysterical men and
women charging at the gates to the Knesset. This time it
wasn't the handicapped, or the unemployed. This time it was
the municipal employees of Beit Shean, a development town in the Jordan Valley. They were protesting the fact that the
till had finally run dry, leaving sanitation, clerical and
other municipal employees without paychecks.
The collapse of Beit Shean is simply the first domino to
fall. Financial difficulties and the inability to respond to
citizens' needs is a problem facing many, if not most, of
Israel's local governments. Many, of course, have legitimate
unmet needs. But the truth is that huge salaries, nepotism,
trips abroad, dinners and weekends in hotels, have long been
a standard component of local government. Again and again,
the Ministry of Interior has been asked to dig deep into
public pockets (i.e. mine!) to bail out the at best
incompetent and -- at worst -- corrupt local officials who
obviously don't understand that thousands minus more
thousands equals less then zero.
Here in my home town in Northern Jerusalem (which shall
remain nameless) , we pay the highest municipal taxes in the
country. And yet, the streets are often dirty, public
gardens unkempt, police presence ridiculously minimal,
public roads raggedy, public sports facilities overpriced
and
ill-cared for.
In contrast, another township only a five minute drive from
me has its roads lined with blooming, colorful flowers.
There is a well-run, inexpensive public pool, clean streets,
a well-planned shopping center, all of which my home town
lacks. What makes the difference? The answer is very simple:
the quality of the people on the local council. I have no
idea how the people in charge of my neighborhood got their
jobs. There were never any elections. And certainly no
performance reviews.
Just how big a difference the human factor can make, can be
seen with startling clarity in the renaissance of a sleepy
little town tucked into the hillside outside of Haifa.
 Zichron Yaakov was founded in 1882 by members of the Hovevei Zion movement from Romania with the help of the Baron Edmond de Rothschild, who bankrolled them to plant grape vines. It never did become a great farming area. Aside from the winery, there aren't many local industries or natural
resources. But it does have stunning views of the hillsides
and the blue Mediterranean.
At a certain point in the last decade, developers began to
push to make Zichron a high rise suburb of Haifa. But a
member of the local council, Alvit Froind, had a different
idea. Instead of imitating the ugliness of urban sprawl a
few kilometers away, why not preserve, refurbish, and polish
Zichron's colorful history? Why not turn the little town
overlooking the sea into something so beautiful and charming
people would drive miles and miles simply to wander its
streets and sit in its coffee houses?
Anyone who has witnessed the growth and transformation of
Zichron over the past five years really feels like rubbing
their eyes to make sure it isn't a mirage. The town center,
once full of neglected, turn-of-the-century farmers' houses,
has undergone historic preservation. Framed pictures of the
original settlers give visitors a taste of the town's
history. Street signs, porches, landscaping done with
incredible sensitivity and taste, transport the visitor back
in time.
The local residents are delighted. When we passed by the
charmingly restored synagogue, built during the Ottoman
Empire, we were invited inside by a friendly local resident,
an older man wearing a skullcap. He explained how the
synagogue was built against Ottoman Empire restrictions. The
residents told the Turks it was a barn. When it got larger
and larger, they said it was going to serve as a storage
center for agricultural produce for the whole area. When
they added the women's section and the stained glass
windows, the Turks apparently gave up. "I came here after
the Holocaust from Romania," our guide tells us. "I married,
began a new family. This place has been full of blessings
for me, and so I try to give a little back by volunteering
here. Isn't Zichron beautiful? It's our local council. It
was their idea," he says with pride.
A few miles away as the crow flies is another historic hill
city with incredibly beautiful views: Safed. Home to Jewish
mystics and famous 16th century rabbis who escaped from the
Inquisition, Safed was for many years an artists' colony,
filled with craftsmen and painters who drew inspiration from
its exquisite location and inspiring history. The story of
Safed is a mirror image of Zichron Yaakov's. The artists are
gone, their lovely hillside homes transformed into cheap
shops selling kitschy tourist items. The center of town is
neglected and depressing. Yeshivot and other nonprofit
institutions have taken up where the artists left off.
The results are not pretty.
I tried calling the local Municipality to find out how all
of this happened to one of my favorite spots in Israel. It
was one-thirty on a weekday afternoon. The phone rang and
rang, but no one at the Municipality picked up.
I suppose I got my answer.
All rights to this article which first appeared on March 24, 2000, are reserved to Naomi Ragen and the article appears here with her permission. Naomi Ragen is an American-born novelist and playwright who has lived in Jerusalem since 1971. She has published seven internationally best-selling novels, and is the author of a hit play. Naomi also publishes a regular email column, to which you can subscribe by clicking here. |
