Whenever I’m tempted to make snap judgments about Israel, I remind myself of Dubak, “The Bear”. Try to imagine Mad Max as a middle aged Jewish settler. Dubak was built square. He reminded me of a rusty old washing-machine, with a mass of contradictions spinning inside him.
Dubak, whose real name was Dov Vineshtok, was that rare species of Israeli: one who had actual contact with Arabs. When an Israeli hiker got lost in the desert, Dubak would hop onto his dune buggy, round up some Bedouin scouts and find the hiker before the vultures got to him.
On our last ride with him, to the cliffs above the Dead Sea, we passed an olive grove. Along the road, a row of the ancient trees was cut to stumps, amputated. “I did that,” said Dubak. “The Arabs were throwing rocks at the settler’s cars. And after I cut down the first row, I told the Arabs that if one of our cars was hit by another rock, I would cut down a second row. And you know what? The rock-throwing stopped.”
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
On Dov "Dubek" Weinstock
At TIME's Tim McGirk's blog which starts:-