Bomb shelter culture – A silver lining

 

One of the themes of my blog posts is culture in its widest sense. Today’s post is about a special type of culture, one that has become unfortunately far too common and international, specifically the culture of people living with the need to run to bomb shelters at any moment. Most curiously enough, its extremity often brings out the best of people as I am experiencing.

For those who are unaware, as I am writing this post, millions of Christians, Muslims, both Sunni and Shia, Jews, and atheists live with the reality that they not only may but probably will have to run to a bomb shelter at any time in the near future, including in one minute. I personally have run to the shelter 4 times in the last 10 hours. These people are located in Kiev, Tel Aviv, Tehran, Doha, Beirut and Kuwait City, to name only a few. The threat danger may be from a 50 kilo or a 1000 kilo warhead. Warning time may range from seconds to minutes or even none. The nearest safe shelter may be in a reinforced room in the house but may be, more often than not, the bathroom or the stairwell when the public shelter is too far to be relevant or non-existent. Some people even sleep in underground railroad stations or parking lots. What all these people share in common is the utter lack of control over the frequency and timing of these threats.

The easiest part to cope with is the physical aspect. People learn to prepare for the siren. The “shelter bag” with water, snacks, reading material and activities for children waits ready by the door. People sleep with the maximum amount of clothing possible to minimize time spent on getting sufficiently dressed if they have to leave their house. Upon hearing the siren, after a few times, people make themselves minimally presentable, round up the children, grab the bag and go to the safest area. With practice, they even do so calmly, at least externally. It becomes a routine. It is amazing what people can get used to. The vast majority of people learn to function in this potentially deadly situation.

The hardest part of the routine is mental. The possibility of the need to run to the shelter dominates thinking. Success in taking a shower without having to run out wet is a victory. (I was caught in the shower a few days ago). Making a meal without having to turn off the gas in the middle is a relief. Shopping becomes a sprint. Despite the fatigue caused by the lack of continuous sleep, it even becomes difficult to fall asleep as someone one expects to hear an alarm the minute the eyes close. For those with small children, it involves not only the effort of keeping the children occupied , but also constant effort to emit a feeling of “all is under control” when it isn’t. For those with older family members with limited mobility, even getting them to the shelter requires patience and fortitude as these people simply cannot hurry or may not be able to access a shelter at all. All this effort creates intense emotional stress.

What I found amazing is that the situation brings out the best in people, just as it did during the Blitz in England during WW2. In my neighborhood, a bunch of small apartment houses surrounds an underground bomb shelter, which is also a Beit Knesset (synagogue). As such, it has proper seating and air conditioning, which is relative luxury, but it has stairs, making it difficult or impossible for some older people to access it. For the last week or so, the residents of the surrounding housing have gathered several times a day, including in the middle of the night, to spend anywhere from fifteen minutes to two hours together. The residents include people of all ages, colors, economic situations, and levels of religious faith. Younger people help older people go down stairs and assist mothers to lower buggies into the shelter. Neighbors that have not spoken to each other or refused to do so now converse pleasantly. People politely tell overly loud children to keep their voice down or smokers not to smoke at the entrance of the shelter or even consciously choose to ignore it, even though children’s voices at high volume and cigarette smoke can be extremely annoying in a small space. Previously important issues of disagreement are, for the moment, less relevant now. If it weren’t for the Hebrew, you might think the scene is in England.

This is my personal experience but I tend to think it significantly represents the experience of many of those stuck in the current rounds of violence, wherever they may be. The challenge of trying to lead a life under the constant threat of bombardment transcends politics; it makes no difference who started or who is responsible for the war; there will never be any consensus on that matter. On the other hand, I as an Israeli can easily imagine how the resident of Tehran or Kiev feels as this experience is universal with minor local differences. Most curiously, this danger brings out the humanity in most people, reducing the importance of many differences. We all want to live. Human beings do best when they cooperate. War is an awful way to remind us of that truth. Hopefully, this round of destruction will end soon worldwide. All we want is certainty and a normal life. In the meantime, you can say, as Dickens did, that it is worst of times and, in a certain sense, the best of times.