Forword by A.B. Yehoshua
When Michael Hassoun asked me to write a few words about “Reserves”, I was pleased to oblige. It is an album of photographs of reserve soldiers, taken by Michael during the many years that he did his reserve duty (milu’im) in the Israel Defense Forces. At first, I wondered what could be the point of yet another collection of army photos, and whether the photographer had something new to say. But when I looked closely at the pictures, I understood the philosophy that underlay the choice of images. As a novelist who studies the Israeli condition, and as a former milu’imnik myself, I connected strongly with the artist’s project. After my reserve duty in a combat unit, I continued for many years to serve as a roving lecturer at Israeli military bases. It was in that capacity that I was able to deepen my familiarity with the varieties of Israeli military experience.
Anyone who wants to understand the Israeli mindset and fathom the secret of its military power ought to pay attention to the structure and nature of reserve duty. From the time Israel was founded, it was clear to its leaders that given its small population Israel would never be able to sustain a standing army that would be even one-fifth as large as the armies of its Arab enemies. The state therefore constructed a sophisticated system of military reserves, a people’s army of well-trained soldiers who could be mobilized very quickly, in order to offset the numerical gap between Israeli troops and those of its hostile neighbors.
I remember the first shocking days of the Yom Kippur War of 1973, which were filled with defeats and retreats. I anxiously asked a wise older friend, a liberal politician and educator named Aryeh (“Lova”) Eliav, what he thought would happen. His reply was not what I expected. Don’t worry, he told me. Soon the teachers and postmen, the shopkeepers and porters, the bank tellers and government clerks will arrive at the front – and they will tilt the battle in our favor.
Lova Eliav didn’t say “the reserve forces will arrive,” but with his characteristic humanity he lifted the military veil and revealed the ordinary citizens who would go to war and achieve victory. On the battlefield they would be warriors, but their true essence was strictly civilian – bachelors and family men from many worlds, differing widely in their professions, level of education, social and economic status, and also the innermost fears they brought to their military service.
There are few images of battle in Michael Hassoun’s book, but many pictures of ordinary, prosaic reserve duty: soldiers at checkpoints, in training, on patrol. Although there are always Israeli reservists who are happy to take a break from the daily burdens they left at home and indulge in manly adventures, the motif of Michael’s book is one of sadness and worry, of abandonment and alienation. Not least, there is a sense of lost time, of meaningless moments gone to waste. In this way, these photographs not only reflect reality but defy it: Enough. A century of war and conflict has robbed us of energies that are designed to build and create.
A.B. Yehoshua Translated from the Hebrew by Stuart Schoffman
When Michael Hassoun asked me to write a few words about “Reserves”, I was pleased to oblige. It is an album of photographs of reserve soldiers, taken by Michael during the many years that he did his reserve duty (milu’im) in the Israel Defense Forces. At first, I wondered what could be the point of yet another collection of army photos, and whether the photographer had something new to say. But when I looked closely at the pictures, I understood the philosophy that underlay the choice of images. As a novelist who studies the Israeli condition, and as a former milu’imnik myself, I connected strongly with the artist’s project. After my reserve duty in a combat unit, I continued for many years to serve as a roving lecturer at Israeli military bases. It was in that capacity that I was able to deepen my familiarity with the varieties of Israeli military experience.
Anyone who wants to understand the Israeli mindset and fathom the secret of its military power ought to pay attention to the structure and nature of reserve duty. From the time Israel was founded, it was clear to its leaders that given its small population Israel would never be able to sustain a standing army that would be even one-fifth as large as the armies of its Arab enemies. The state therefore constructed a sophisticated system of military reserves, a people’s army of well-trained soldiers who could be mobilized very quickly, in order to offset the numerical gap between Israeli troops and those of its hostile neighbors.
I remember the first shocking days of the Yom Kippur War of 1973, which were filled with defeats and retreats. I anxiously asked a wise older friend, a liberal politician and educator named Aryeh (“Lova”) Eliav, what he thought would happen. His reply was not what I expected. Don’t worry, he told me. Soon the teachers and postmen, the shopkeepers and porters, the bank tellers and government clerks will arrive at the front – and they will tilt the battle in our favor.
Lova Eliav didn’t say “the reserve forces will arrive,” but with his characteristic humanity he lifted the military veil and revealed the ordinary citizens who would go to war and achieve victory. On the battlefield they would be warriors, but their true essence was strictly civilian – bachelors and family men from many worlds, differing widely in their professions, level of education, social and economic status, and also the innermost fears they brought to their military service.
There are few images of battle in Michael Hassoun’s book, but many pictures of ordinary, prosaic reserve duty: soldiers at checkpoints, in training, on patrol. Although there are always Israeli reservists who are happy to take a break from the daily burdens they left at home and indulge in manly adventures, the motif of Michael’s book is one of sadness and worry, of abandonment and alienation. Not least, there is a sense of lost time, of meaningless moments gone to waste. In this way, these photographs not only reflect reality but defy it: Enough. A century of war and conflict has robbed us of energies that are designed to build and create.
A.B. Yehoshua Translated from the Hebrew by Stuart Schoffman