A dilemma of the affluent and old people, to keep living as they were used to or move to a new environment with a label on it – homes for senior citizens
Poleg Estate offers a plethora of activities for "youngsters aged 60 and over." (Daniel Tchetchik)
Aging gracefully - voluntarily( Ha-Aretz)
By Orna Coussin
On seeing Ahuzat Poleg (Poleg Estate) for the first time, one feels a mix of attraction and shock at the growing retirement village for "youngsters aged 60 and over," as the ad says, which opened some three years ago next to Kibbutz Tel Yitzhak. It is a cross between an exclusive suburb (like the white neighborhoods in South Africa) and a luxurious resort. It consists of uniform rows of small houses with red-tiled roofs and paths of colorful flora squares. The enticing swimming pool; modeled on that of country clubs for the wealthy; is surrounded by grass and has all of the latest exercise equipment and spa facilities. A fence surrounds the whole village and a guard is stationed at the gated entrance.
On the one hand, it seems that the residents, who recently reached retirement age, have found a place of tranquility, security and relaxation; there is nothing to complain about.
On the other hand, it is reminiscent of the suburban nightmare depicted in the film, "The Truman Show." According to this version, retirement age is not just the age of retirement from work, but also from society. Citizens who turn 65 leave en masse for isolated senior-citizen communities such as this one. The diverse cities are emptied of old people and they remain cities for the young alone. And it is all done voluntarily, without force.
Of course, not everyone gets to enjoy surroundings where there is a spa, a pool and bougainvillea. The poor among the elderly remain in old-fashioned, old-age homes. The rich among them receive good conditions at the exclusive, new and expensive assisted-living facilities, such as Palace, in Tel Aviv, Ahuzat Rishonim in Rishon Letzion, Protea in the Village in the Sharon region and Seven Stars House (Beit Shivat Hakochavim) in Herzliya Pituah and some of the Mishan chain's renovated homes. That's it. From here, as Dr. Haim Burkoff, one of the Ahuzat Poleg residents, says, "you leave only to go to the cemetery on the other side of the road."
Every man for himself This is not a new phenomenon - there are some who note that it started in Israel ten years ago if not more - but it has certainly been gaining ground in recent years: More and more vital and active retirement-age people, some of whom are still salaried wage-earners, are choosing to leave their homes and their familiar and diverse surroundings and are moving into relatively homogenous (as far as age is concerned) assisted-living facilities. Aryeh Shore, the director general of Ahuzat Poleg, estimates that 15,000 Israelis today live in assisted-living facilities in Israel and another 35,000 in what he calls "institutional solutions." The previous name used for such places - "old-age homes" - is no longer appropriate, and not just because it does not sound good in the marketing era. An old-age home is where children deposit their mothers and fathers. Parents come on their own volition to assisted-living facilities.
That is exactly the gist of the trend: In any case, it is no longer acceptable to live in a multi-generational home, consisting of a large and diverse family of grandparents and grandchildren. Everything is being broken down into small familial cells, each on their own. Thus older people prefer to have control over the transition into the last stage of their lives. They want to shape this transition according to their wishes and worldview and prevent the possibility of the transition being imposed on them by their relatives, because there is no other alternative. For example, Zemira Yekutiel, 72, is today the director of the Get Acquainted with Tel Aviv Center and in the past was the director of the Tel Aviv branch of the Society for the Protection of Nature in Israel. Yekutiel chose around a year ago to leave the apartment on Tel Aviv's Ben-Gurion Boulevard that she had lived in for 55 years. She moved to Palace, an assisted-living facility near the city's Ichilov Hospital, which is a luxury residential building designed like a grand hotel ("copied piece by piece from the Ritz Hotel in Florida," according to Irit Pasternak, the deputy director general of marketing) and situated on top of a new and bustling mall. "Two years ago," says Yekutiel, "11 years after my husband died, I severely broke my leg twice. It was very hard for me to climb 50 stairs to reach my apartment. I was restricted. And that was the straw that broke the camel's back. I decided to move to an assisted-living facility even though I could ostensibly have moved to a new apartment in a building with an elevator. But I didn't have the emotional strength to build a new home from scratch. I thought it would be better to take this step right away, while I can be in control and decided where I want to live the rest of my life. I don't want someone else to decide for me." For Yekutiel, a Tel Avivian through and through, the option of living in an assisted-living facility in the center of the city was perfect. "I can't be outside of Tel Aviv," she explains, "and here I am in the center of town - everything is in walking distance. I have a subscription to the symphony and I like operas and walk to the Performing Arts Center. After a leisurely 20-minute walk, I can also get to Ben-Gurion Boulevard, where I lived most of my life. All my friends are nearby. I wasn't cut off from the fabric of my life." The shocking transition Pnina Dvir, in her late 60's, a small, energetic woman and nurse by profession, moved around eight years ago from her home in Holon's Rassco villa neighborhood to Ahuzat Rishonim (Pioneers Estate), a relatively older residence (10 years old) located in a suburb of Rishon Letzion high-rise towers, atop a very practical mall (with a supermarket, bank, post office, shoemaker, tailor, hairdresser, cosmetician, Laundromat, flower shop and stationery store.) Dvir chose to live in an assisted-living facility after mourning the death of her partner. "I was very depressed, afraid to sleep alone at night," she says openly while sitting in her small and pleasant apartment. "I was afraid, because for me being together with someone, meant being together 24 hours a day. Today I realize there is an element that is not positive in that. That even being together with someone, you have to learn to be alone. With us it was a merger." After the death of her partner (this was the second loss she experienced, following the death of her husband, Aharon Dvir, 22 years ago), Pnina stopped sleeping at home. "When I would open the door of the home, I would enter, see the empty space, see that no one was waiting for me, no one was there to greet me, and I would run away to a place of refuge - my car. At difficult moments, I would drive the car to the beach, to the Tel Aviv promenade, to Bat Yam. The waves were good for me. I would see in my mind's eye my husband sitting beside me and telling me, 'look at the power of nature, of the sea.' I reminded myself to draw strength from these sights." For about three months, Dvir slept every night in her car, until "one day, my neighbor came out early one morning for some reason to empty his garbage and was surprised to see me. 'What are you doing in the car,' he asked. The secret was out. With the help of psychiatric treatment I recovered and realized that I had to take my fate in my own hands. After looking at 10 assisted-living facilities, I came here, to Ahuzat Rishonim, a place I had visited with my partner, Moshe, around three months before he died. Already then, we had thought about moving together to such a place at some point. We thought we didn't want to become a burden on the children. That too is a major consideration, I have to say. And I have to say that the transition at first was a shock. But very quickly I received so much warmth and support here and I met so many nice people - that the initial shock wore off." Yekutiel asked not to idealize her voluntary move to an assisted-living facility. "Leaving the house and the things - especially the books - is very difficult. It's a very painful thing. In a 120-meter apartment, I had a huge library. Here in a 53-meter apartment, I don't have room. And I also don't have the large and spacious balcony I had at home. When I came here, I also didn't like the style of the furniture in the public spaces. It took me a long time to be able to say, 'I'm going home,' in reference to this place. But okay. If someone tells you the world is perfect - don't believe it. But if you manage to reach a certain minimum - and here it's a lot more than that - you are very lucky." For Shoshana Burkoff, 70 and her husband, Haim, 73, the move from a large home in Ra'anana to a smaller home in Ahuzat Poleg was not easy. Shoshana had pleaded with Haim to move into an assisted-living facility and, as far as she is concerned, the change has not been major. "Even in Ra'anana I was addicted to swimming in the pool. Now I can spend as much time there as I want." Haim, on the other hand, was very worried about the move. In the past, he was the personal secretary of Zionist Executive member Zvi Luria and a Zionist Executive emissary to Panama and Guatemala. Today he is a clinical psychologist specializing in treating adolescents and he is also the head of the youth treatment department at Beit Berl College. "I was worried - how would they take it, the students, the patients, when they find out that I live in an old age home?" Ostensibly, technically speaking, there are no problems. The Burkoffs' new home in Ahuzat Poleg has four rooms - including an office that is used as a clinic (and when the time comes can also be used as a bedroom for an ill spouse; and there is also another room, on the second floor, intended for a caretaker.) In other words, this is actually a small and spacious home in every respect. And nevertheless, the move to an assisted-living facility cost Dr. Burkoff some patients. "I don't have the same number of patients, yes. But I knew that whoever I was important to would make the effort to follow me here." Burkoff is proud of the fact that he still goes to work at Beit Berl and still receives patients at Ahuzat Poleg. He believes there is no obligation to disengage from the fabric of life and from society at large when moving into an old age home. But he does indeed plan to cut down his working hours and take advantage of the huge selection of activities assisted-living offers him. You could say that to a large extent, he plans to converge and disengage. Because, he prefers as he says, to take advantage of the opportunities available here before it is too late. Even the grandchildren come to visit more often than in the past - thanks in no small measure to the pool and other comforts. Bridge hourAnd the same is true of Yekutiel and Dvir. They try to limit their outside activities and participate in the full schedule of programs and classes at their assisted-living facilities.
To a certain extent, these places look like Club Med style hotels, which see vacations - or retirement - as a series of endless activity. Lectures, crafts classes, music lessons, bone-strengthening exercise classes, tai chi, meditation, swimming in the pool, yoga, concerts and the most popular activity - bridge. Rooms full of green felt covered tables are the most dominant and vibrant places in these assisted-living facilities. Dvir is a little worried about that. Bridge games consume too much time, in her opinion, and come at the expense of more cultural engagements; but even she admits - "people look happy here. They play for hours. They forget the world." Incidentally, Dvir, Yekutiel and Burkoff note that the exclusive assisted-living facilities - following the model of active resorts - are not for everyone. Of course, not everyone wants to live in a homogeneous environment with respect to age - of 70-year-olds and over. Not everyone is a suburban type. Not everyone is a social animal.
And in any case, not everyone can allow himself this type of organized exile. Apartments in Palace, for example, require between $200,000-600,000 for a deposit (which declines over a 10-year period at a 3-percent rate and the family receives whatever is left) as well as another $1,200-1,800 per month in maintenance and servicing fees (depending on the size of the apartment.) In Ahuzat Poleg, the deposits run from $290,000-360,000 and the monthly maintenance is $1,100. Dvir paid a $155,000 deposit at Ahuzat Rishonim and she pays $4,500 a month in maintenance which includes everything: medical supervision and constant monitoring, panic buttons, technical assistance, weekly cleaning and plenty of classes and activities.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
1946, the Kielce pogrom in Poland -As if Auschwitz weren't enough
As if Auschwitz weren't enough (Ha-Aretz)
By Sara Bender
On July 1, 1946, an 8-year-old Polish boy, Henryk Blaszczyk, disappeared in the southern Polish town of Kielce. The worried parents began searching for their son and when they were unable to find him, they informed the police. Two days later, Henryk returned home. He related that he had been abducted by a Jew who put him in a cellar, and that thanks to someone who passed him a chair, he was able to escape through the window.
On the morning of July 4, 1946, the elder Blaszczyk went with his son to give testimony at the local police station. En route, an acquaintance joined them, and when the three passed a house on 7 Planty Street, the acquaintance pointed to it and told the boy to tell the police that was where he was held. When the boy was asked whether he would recognize the man who locked him up in the cellar, Henryk pointed to a short man wearing a green hat who was standing next to the house at the time.
At the police station, about 200 meters from the house on Planty street, the boy's report was believed, and the commander of the station gave orders to arrest the man with the green hat. Six policemen accompanied by Blaszczyk and his son went to look for the "suspect." They arrested Kalman Singer, a religious Jew who had survived the concentration camps, brought him to the police station and beat him. Simultaneously, the policemen spread rumors that the boy had been kidnapped by Jews and held in the cellar.
Anti-Semitism again
At that time there were some 240,000 Jews living in Poland, most of them refugees who had returned from the Soviet Union following the "repatriation" agreements signed by Poland the Soviet government. Most of the returnees were sent to a few central cities in Poland, and some of them went to Kielce. In May 1946, there were 163 Jews living in Kielce. Forty of them lived in the building on 7 Planty Street (known as the "Jewish house") and were members of the Akiva Union of Zionist Youth, affiliated with the Noar Hatsioni (Zionist Youth) movement; they were Holocaust survivors who had gathered in Kielce to participate in an agricultural course to prepare for life in Palestine. This building also housed the local Jewish Committee, headed by Dr. Seweryn Kahane .
There had been a grenade attack on the house in December 1945. Even though no one was hurt, a delegation from the Jewish Committee approached the district bishop, Katchmark, and asked him to help curb anti-Semitic activity. Katchmark told the Jewish representatives then that it would be a good idea for the Jews to return to their traditional occupations, because their influence on the new administration in Poland and the positions they had taken in the public administration were angering the Poles.
There were new reasons compounding the traditional Polish anti-Semitism, which had not disappeared during the Nazi occupation and the Holocaust. Many Poles were openly opposed to the return of the Jews from the Soviet Union and refused to allow them to return to their jobs or to give them back their property. In addition, many Poles contended that the Jews were the mainstay of the new Communist regime there and that they were running Poland according to dictates from the Soviet Union, and held senior positions in the party and administration. This approach - that the Jews were taking over Poland at the behest of the Soviets - found a strong resonance among the church leadership and the Right. It was substantiated by the fact that the Jews had filled clerical and other senior positions in Poland after the war, something that had been inconceivable before that.
At the head of the violent struggle against the Jews stood the Polish Underground organizations, which had decided to take on the new regime under the Soviets. These groups included radical rightists and nationalist-fascist groups that considered the Soviets an even worse enemy than the Germans. These groups assumed that there would soon be a war between the West and the Soviet Union, and believed it was necessary to employ violence and terror in order to hasten both this confrontation and the intervention of outside parties to overthrow the new regime.
Knives and stones
On the morning of July 4, 1946, Blaszczyk's story spread through Kielce like wildfire. In a short while, a crowd of angry Poles had gathered outside the Jewish house in the belief that more than a dozen Christian children were being held captive there to use their blood for making matzot, according to the ancient story - or, according to a newer belief, for infusions for wounded Soviet soldiers. To this plot was added another rumor - the Christian children being held captive there were no longer alive.
Among the first to gather outside the Jewish house were groups of women who began chanting anti-Semitic slogans and inciting those who joined them. About an hour later, at around 11 A.M., two army vehicles pulled up outside the building and soldiers with automatic weapons jumped out. In just a few minutes more, the shriek of bullets could be heard being fired directly through the windows into the building. Police forces also came to the site, broke into the building and ordered the Jews to turn over the weapons they held for self defense. Then the police started destroying the apartments inside.
Anyone who tried to put up a fight was murdered. Jews were tossed through the windows and into the streets, and the mob broke into the building and went wild. Among those killed was Kahane, who had tried to call the district commander. The behavior of the policemen merely egged on the crowd, and they began stoning the building and shouting that the Jews were murdering Polish children. The Jews trapped inside were left to the mercy of the mob and beaten with planks and iron rods. Those who were pulled outside were dragged to a nearby square and killed.
The police and army were able to push back the mob for a short while, and to take the dead and wounded to the municipal hospital. Despite the impression that the situation had calmed down, crowds in other parts of the city continued to beat and kill Jews, and the outbursts of hatred worsened. At around 12:30 P.M., when there was a lunch break at the Ludwikow steel mill not far from the Jewish house, about 500 workers broke through the factory gate and headed for Planty Street. The workers, who were armed with knives, wooden sticks and iron bars, were easily able to make their way through the crowds and enter the Jewish house. The pogrom, which had started dying down, was set aflame again and another 20 Jews lost their lives. That same day, attackers beat Jews on a train. The engineer slowed the train intentionally, and all the Jews were pulled out of the coaches and beaten to death. The attackers left with the victims' watches, clothes, shoes and money.
That afternoon, army units from Warsaw arrived in Kielce and dispersed the mobs. The Jewish dead and wounded were taken to St. Alexandra Hospital and the survivors were sent to the local sports stadium and the offices of the security forces. That day, at least 50 Jews, including women and children, lost their lives in Kielce, and more than 50 others were injured.
A belated apology
Even after the pogrom was over, the anti-Jewish atmosphere in Kielce did not dissipate, and the hunt for Jews continued. Poles who looked Jewish were also attacked, degraded and beaten cruelly. The pogrom atmosphere gradually spread to the suburbs, and Poles who met Jews on trains would beat them and throw them out of the coaches. The district police commander, who consulted the national council in the city, continued to claim the authorities had information on the murder of Polish children by Jews.
The day after the pogrom, various local leaders met. This included the various political factions and the deputy head of the district, and they condemned the bishops' bureau for its apathy during the events. The meeting decided to publish a manifesto to calm the atmosphere. The Central Committee of Polish Jews in Warsaw sent Dr. Avraham (Adolph) Berman and Yitzhak Zuckerman to Kielce to bring food and clothing to the Jews there. The authorities mandated an evening curfew and the police declared a state of emergency.
The funerals were held four days later, on the afternoon of July 8. The pogrom victims were buried in Kielce's old Jewish cemetery. The funeral procession was two kilometers long. The residents of the town lined the streets, and some 10,000 people attended the funerals, including many Poles who had been ordered by the authorities to participate. A delegation from the Ludwikow steel mill marched at the head of the funeral procession, which was led by a special army unit for state funerals and ceremonies. More than 40 coffins were buried, side by side, in a mass grave 60 meters long. Later, a red clay obelisk was erected at the site.
The trial of the accused murderers began the following day, July 9, 1946. The trial was heard by a supreme military tribunal that came to Kielce specially for this purpose. Of the 12 Poles who were put on trial, nine were sentenced to death and executed on July 12, 1946. Further trials were held between September and December 1946, and another 30 suspects, among them policemen and soldiers, were charged; various senior officers were also arrested. The Jewish survivors, those hospitalized at the local hospital, were transferred from Kielce to Lodz in a special Red Cross train.
This pogrom had a traumatic effect on the Jews of Poland and on the entire world, and evoked many responses. The anti-Jewish incidents in Poland after World War II, including the Kielce pogrom, can be explained as a grudge, suspicion or mutual recrimination between the Jewish and Polish publics. These feelings were based on parallel stereotypes that blocked mutual understanding between the two peoples.
The negative feelings of the Jews stemmed from their belief that the Poles had abandoned them during the Holocaust and had expressed joy over the Jews' fate. The Poles held a grudge against the Jews for not supporting their national aspirations and for assisting the Soviets when they annexed the eastern sections of Poland at the start of the war, as well as for cooperating with the Stalinist regime after Poland was liberated.
The Polish church, perhaps the most important body that might have been able to calm the atmosphere after the war, did not react in a unified fashion. For the most part, church officials refrained from commenting on the grounds that the anti-Jewish incidents did not have a religious nature. Even the Vatican's official organ justified the Polish church's blind eye to the plight of the Jews by saying the incidents were not within the realm of the church's activity.
The pogrom in Kielce sowed distress and panic among the survivors, and created a growing feeling of existential danger. A wave of attacks on Jews throughout Poland made the situation even worse. Even those survivors who had hoped to rehabilitate their lives in Poland were proven wrong, and the result was a mass exodus. Within three months after the Kielce pogrom, some 60,000 Jews fled the country. Fifty years later, in 1996, at a memorial ceremony held in the town, the Kielce Mayor Boguslaw Ciesielski asked the Jews for forgiveness. Speaking in front of a large crowd that included Israeli citizens, some of whom survived the pogrom, Ciesielski said it could not be ignored that people in Kielce took up iron bars, stones and planks and murdered Jews. Ciesielski said the request for forgiveness was a basic gesture that must be made to the victims.
(The writer is a lecturer in Jewish history at the University of Haifa. )
By Sara Bender
On July 1, 1946, an 8-year-old Polish boy, Henryk Blaszczyk, disappeared in the southern Polish town of Kielce. The worried parents began searching for their son and when they were unable to find him, they informed the police. Two days later, Henryk returned home. He related that he had been abducted by a Jew who put him in a cellar, and that thanks to someone who passed him a chair, he was able to escape through the window.
On the morning of July 4, 1946, the elder Blaszczyk went with his son to give testimony at the local police station. En route, an acquaintance joined them, and when the three passed a house on 7 Planty Street, the acquaintance pointed to it and told the boy to tell the police that was where he was held. When the boy was asked whether he would recognize the man who locked him up in the cellar, Henryk pointed to a short man wearing a green hat who was standing next to the house at the time.
At the police station, about 200 meters from the house on Planty street, the boy's report was believed, and the commander of the station gave orders to arrest the man with the green hat. Six policemen accompanied by Blaszczyk and his son went to look for the "suspect." They arrested Kalman Singer, a religious Jew who had survived the concentration camps, brought him to the police station and beat him. Simultaneously, the policemen spread rumors that the boy had been kidnapped by Jews and held in the cellar.
Anti-Semitism again
At that time there were some 240,000 Jews living in Poland, most of them refugees who had returned from the Soviet Union following the "repatriation" agreements signed by Poland the Soviet government. Most of the returnees were sent to a few central cities in Poland, and some of them went to Kielce. In May 1946, there were 163 Jews living in Kielce. Forty of them lived in the building on 7 Planty Street (known as the "Jewish house") and were members of the Akiva Union of Zionist Youth, affiliated with the Noar Hatsioni (Zionist Youth) movement; they were Holocaust survivors who had gathered in Kielce to participate in an agricultural course to prepare for life in Palestine. This building also housed the local Jewish Committee, headed by Dr. Seweryn Kahane .
There had been a grenade attack on the house in December 1945. Even though no one was hurt, a delegation from the Jewish Committee approached the district bishop, Katchmark, and asked him to help curb anti-Semitic activity. Katchmark told the Jewish representatives then that it would be a good idea for the Jews to return to their traditional occupations, because their influence on the new administration in Poland and the positions they had taken in the public administration were angering the Poles.
There were new reasons compounding the traditional Polish anti-Semitism, which had not disappeared during the Nazi occupation and the Holocaust. Many Poles were openly opposed to the return of the Jews from the Soviet Union and refused to allow them to return to their jobs or to give them back their property. In addition, many Poles contended that the Jews were the mainstay of the new Communist regime there and that they were running Poland according to dictates from the Soviet Union, and held senior positions in the party and administration. This approach - that the Jews were taking over Poland at the behest of the Soviets - found a strong resonance among the church leadership and the Right. It was substantiated by the fact that the Jews had filled clerical and other senior positions in Poland after the war, something that had been inconceivable before that.
At the head of the violent struggle against the Jews stood the Polish Underground organizations, which had decided to take on the new regime under the Soviets. These groups included radical rightists and nationalist-fascist groups that considered the Soviets an even worse enemy than the Germans. These groups assumed that there would soon be a war between the West and the Soviet Union, and believed it was necessary to employ violence and terror in order to hasten both this confrontation and the intervention of outside parties to overthrow the new regime.
Knives and stones
On the morning of July 4, 1946, Blaszczyk's story spread through Kielce like wildfire. In a short while, a crowd of angry Poles had gathered outside the Jewish house in the belief that more than a dozen Christian children were being held captive there to use their blood for making matzot, according to the ancient story - or, according to a newer belief, for infusions for wounded Soviet soldiers. To this plot was added another rumor - the Christian children being held captive there were no longer alive.
Among the first to gather outside the Jewish house were groups of women who began chanting anti-Semitic slogans and inciting those who joined them. About an hour later, at around 11 A.M., two army vehicles pulled up outside the building and soldiers with automatic weapons jumped out. In just a few minutes more, the shriek of bullets could be heard being fired directly through the windows into the building. Police forces also came to the site, broke into the building and ordered the Jews to turn over the weapons they held for self defense. Then the police started destroying the apartments inside.
Anyone who tried to put up a fight was murdered. Jews were tossed through the windows and into the streets, and the mob broke into the building and went wild. Among those killed was Kahane, who had tried to call the district commander. The behavior of the policemen merely egged on the crowd, and they began stoning the building and shouting that the Jews were murdering Polish children. The Jews trapped inside were left to the mercy of the mob and beaten with planks and iron rods. Those who were pulled outside were dragged to a nearby square and killed.
The police and army were able to push back the mob for a short while, and to take the dead and wounded to the municipal hospital. Despite the impression that the situation had calmed down, crowds in other parts of the city continued to beat and kill Jews, and the outbursts of hatred worsened. At around 12:30 P.M., when there was a lunch break at the Ludwikow steel mill not far from the Jewish house, about 500 workers broke through the factory gate and headed for Planty Street. The workers, who were armed with knives, wooden sticks and iron bars, were easily able to make their way through the crowds and enter the Jewish house. The pogrom, which had started dying down, was set aflame again and another 20 Jews lost their lives. That same day, attackers beat Jews on a train. The engineer slowed the train intentionally, and all the Jews were pulled out of the coaches and beaten to death. The attackers left with the victims' watches, clothes, shoes and money.
That afternoon, army units from Warsaw arrived in Kielce and dispersed the mobs. The Jewish dead and wounded were taken to St. Alexandra Hospital and the survivors were sent to the local sports stadium and the offices of the security forces. That day, at least 50 Jews, including women and children, lost their lives in Kielce, and more than 50 others were injured.
A belated apology
Even after the pogrom was over, the anti-Jewish atmosphere in Kielce did not dissipate, and the hunt for Jews continued. Poles who looked Jewish were also attacked, degraded and beaten cruelly. The pogrom atmosphere gradually spread to the suburbs, and Poles who met Jews on trains would beat them and throw them out of the coaches. The district police commander, who consulted the national council in the city, continued to claim the authorities had information on the murder of Polish children by Jews.
The day after the pogrom, various local leaders met. This included the various political factions and the deputy head of the district, and they condemned the bishops' bureau for its apathy during the events. The meeting decided to publish a manifesto to calm the atmosphere. The Central Committee of Polish Jews in Warsaw sent Dr. Avraham (Adolph) Berman and Yitzhak Zuckerman to Kielce to bring food and clothing to the Jews there. The authorities mandated an evening curfew and the police declared a state of emergency.
The funerals were held four days later, on the afternoon of July 8. The pogrom victims were buried in Kielce's old Jewish cemetery. The funeral procession was two kilometers long. The residents of the town lined the streets, and some 10,000 people attended the funerals, including many Poles who had been ordered by the authorities to participate. A delegation from the Ludwikow steel mill marched at the head of the funeral procession, which was led by a special army unit for state funerals and ceremonies. More than 40 coffins were buried, side by side, in a mass grave 60 meters long. Later, a red clay obelisk was erected at the site.
The trial of the accused murderers began the following day, July 9, 1946. The trial was heard by a supreme military tribunal that came to Kielce specially for this purpose. Of the 12 Poles who were put on trial, nine were sentenced to death and executed on July 12, 1946. Further trials were held between September and December 1946, and another 30 suspects, among them policemen and soldiers, were charged; various senior officers were also arrested. The Jewish survivors, those hospitalized at the local hospital, were transferred from Kielce to Lodz in a special Red Cross train.
This pogrom had a traumatic effect on the Jews of Poland and on the entire world, and evoked many responses. The anti-Jewish incidents in Poland after World War II, including the Kielce pogrom, can be explained as a grudge, suspicion or mutual recrimination between the Jewish and Polish publics. These feelings were based on parallel stereotypes that blocked mutual understanding between the two peoples.
The negative feelings of the Jews stemmed from their belief that the Poles had abandoned them during the Holocaust and had expressed joy over the Jews' fate. The Poles held a grudge against the Jews for not supporting their national aspirations and for assisting the Soviets when they annexed the eastern sections of Poland at the start of the war, as well as for cooperating with the Stalinist regime after Poland was liberated.
The Polish church, perhaps the most important body that might have been able to calm the atmosphere after the war, did not react in a unified fashion. For the most part, church officials refrained from commenting on the grounds that the anti-Jewish incidents did not have a religious nature. Even the Vatican's official organ justified the Polish church's blind eye to the plight of the Jews by saying the incidents were not within the realm of the church's activity.
The pogrom in Kielce sowed distress and panic among the survivors, and created a growing feeling of existential danger. A wave of attacks on Jews throughout Poland made the situation even worse. Even those survivors who had hoped to rehabilitate their lives in Poland were proven wrong, and the result was a mass exodus. Within three months after the Kielce pogrom, some 60,000 Jews fled the country. Fifty years later, in 1996, at a memorial ceremony held in the town, the Kielce Mayor Boguslaw Ciesielski asked the Jews for forgiveness. Speaking in front of a large crowd that included Israeli citizens, some of whom survived the pogrom, Ciesielski said it could not be ignored that people in Kielce took up iron bars, stones and planks and murdered Jews. Ciesielski said the request for forgiveness was a basic gesture that must be made to the victims.
(The writer is a lecturer in Jewish history at the University of Haifa. )
Dresura de barbat.
Desen de David ChelseaNew York Times
Pentru o femeie, barbatul ideal este un barbat gata dresat. Sa zicem un barbat la mana a doua, care a facut rodajul pe alte sosele si se prezinta gata sa fie ascultator, devreme acasa (mai putin important), sa stie sa repare prize, sa desfaca robinete si sa destupe tevi infundate. Important desigur sa puna la dispozitia doamnei si o carte de credit. Iar daca este ingaduitor si cu prietenele doamnei, se poate spune ca lozul cel mare a fost castigat.
Iar daca lozul nu este tras, exista si metoda dresajului, explicata mai jos.
What Shamu Taught Me About a Happy Marriage (from N.Y.Times) sau cum sa-ti dresezi barbatul
Modern Love
What Shamu Taught Me About a Happy Marriage
By AMY SUTHERLAND
Published: June 25, 2006 (N.Y.Times)
AS I wash dishes at the kitchen sink, my husband paces behind me, irritated. "Have you seen my keys?" he snarls, then huffs out a loud sigh and stomps from the room with our dog, Dixie, at his heels, anxious over her favorite human's upset.
In the past I would have been right behind Dixie. I would have turned off the faucet and joined the hunt while trying to soothe my husband with bromides like, "Don't worry, they'll turn up." But that only made him angrier, and a simple case of missing keys soon would become a full-blown angst-ridden drama starring the two of us and our poor nervous dog.
Now, I focus on the wet dish in my hands. I don't turn around. I don't say a word. I'm using a technique I learned from a dolphin trainer.
I love my husband. He's well read, adventurous and does a hysterical rendition of a northern Vermont accent that still cracks me up after 12 years of marriage.
But he also tends to be forgetful, and is often tardy and mercurial. He hovers around me in the kitchen asking if I read this or that piece in The New Yorker when I'm trying to concentrate on the simmering pans. He leaves wadded tissues in his wake. He suffers from serious bouts of spousal deafness but never fails to hear me when I mutter to myself on the other side of the house. "What did you say?" he'll shout.
These minor annoyances are not the stuff of separation and divorce, but in sum they began to dull my love for Scott. I wanted — needed — to nudge him a little closer to perfect, to make him into a mate who might annoy me a little less, who wouldn't keep me waiting at restaurants, a mate who would be easier to love.
So, like many wives before me, I ignored a library of advice books and set about improving him. By nagging, of course, which only made his behavior worse: he'd drive faster instead of slower; shave less frequently, not more; and leave his reeking bike garb on the bedroom floor longer than ever.
We went to a counselor to smooth the edges off our marriage. She didn't understand what we were doing there and complimented us repeatedly on how well we communicated. I gave up. I guessed she was right — our union was better than most — and resigned myself to stretches of slow-boil resentment and occasional sarcasm.
Then something magical happened. For a book I was writing about a school for exotic animal trainers, I started commuting from Maine to California, where I spent my days watching students do the seemingly impossible: teaching hyenas to pirouette on command, cougars to offer their paws for a nail clipping, and baboons to skateboard.
I listened, rapt, as professional trainers explained how they taught dolphins to flip and elephants to paint. Eventually it hit me that the same techniques might work on that stubborn but lovable species, the American husband.
The central lesson I learned from exotic animal trainers is that I should reward behavior I like and ignore behavior I don't. After all, you don't get a sea lion to balance a ball on the end of its nose by nagging. The same goes for the American husband.
Back in Maine, I began thanking Scott if he threw one dirty shirt into the hamper. If he threw in two, I'd kiss him. Meanwhile, I would step over any soiled clothes on the floor without one sharp word, though I did sometimes kick them under the bed. But as he basked in my appreciation, the piles became smaller.
I was using what trainers call "approximations," rewarding the small steps toward learning a whole new behavior. You can't expect a baboon to learn to flip on command in one session, just as you can't expect an American husband to begin regularly picking up his dirty socks by praising him once for picking up a single sock. With the baboon you first reward a hop, then a bigger hop, then an even bigger hop. With Scott the husband, I began to praise every small act every time: if he drove just a mile an hour slower, tossed one pair of shorts into the hamper, or was on time for anything.
I also began to analyze my husband the way a trainer considers an exotic animal. Enlightened trainers learn all they can about a species, from anatomy to social structure, to understand how it thinks, what it likes and dislikes, what comes easily to it and what doesn't. For example, an elephant is a herd animal, so it responds to hierarchy. It cannot jump, but can stand on its head. It is a vegetarian.
The exotic animal known as Scott is a loner, but an alpha male. So hierarchy matters, but being in a group doesn't so much. He has the balance of a gymnast, but moves slowly, especially when getting dressed. Skiing comes naturally, but being on time does not. He's an omnivore, and what a trainer would call food-driven.
Once I started thinking this way, I couldn't stop. At the school in California, I'd be scribbling notes on how to walk an emu or have a wolf accept you as a pack member, but I'd be thinking, "I can't wait to try this on Scott."
On a field trip with the students, I listened to a professional trainer describe how he had taught African crested cranes to stop landing on his head and shoulders. He did this by training the leggy birds to land on mats on the ground. This, he explained, is what is called an "incompatible behavior," a simple but brilliant concept.
Rather than teach the cranes to stop landing on him, the trainer taught the birds something else, a behavior that would make the undesirable behavior impossible. The birds couldn't alight on the mats and his head simultaneously.
At home, I came up with incompatible behaviors for Scott to keep him from crowding me while I cooked. To lure him away from the stove, I piled up parsley for him to chop or cheese for him to grate at the other end of the kitchen island. Or I'd set out a bowl of chips and salsa across the room. Soon I'd done it: no more Scott hovering around me while I cooked.
I followed the students to SeaWorld San Diego, where a dolphin trainer introduced me to least reinforcing syndrome (L. R. S.). When a dolphin does something wrong, the trainer doesn't respond in any way. He stands still for a few beats, careful not to look at the dolphin, and then returns to work. The idea is that any response, positive or negative, fuels a behavior. If a behavior provokes no response, it typically dies away.
In the margins of my notes I wrote, "Try on Scott!"
It was only a matter of time before he was again tearing around the house searching for his keys, at which point I said nothing and kept at what I was doing. It took a lot of discipline to maintain my calm, but results were immediate and stunning. His temper fell far shy of its usual pitch and then waned like a fast-moving storm. I felt as if I should throw him a mackerel.
Now he's at it again; I hear him banging a closet door shut, rustling through papers on a chest in the front hall and thumping upstairs. At the sink, I hold steady. Then, sure enough, all goes quiet. A moment later, he walks into the kitchen, keys in hand, and says calmly, "Found them."
Without turning, I call out, "Great, see you later."
Off he goes with our much-calmed pup.
After two years of exotic animal training, my marriage is far smoother, my husband much easier to love. I used to take his faults personally; his dirty clothes on the floor were an affront, a symbol of how he didn't care enough about me. But thinking of my husband as an exotic species gave me the distance I needed to consider our differences more objectively.
I adopted the trainers' motto: "It's never the animal's fault." When my training attempts failed, I didn't blame Scott. Rather, I brainstormed new strategies, thought up more incompatible behaviors and used smaller approximations. I dissected my own behavior, considered how my actions might inadvertently fuel his. I also accepted that some behaviors were too entrenched, too instinctive to train away. You can't stop a badger from digging, and you can't stop my husband from losing his wallet and keys.
PROFESSIONALS talk of animals that understand training so well they eventually use it back on the trainer. My animal did the same. When the training techniques worked so beautifully, I couldn't resist telling my husband what I was up to. He wasn't offended, just amused. As I explained the techniques and terminology, he soaked it up. Far more than I realized.
Last fall, firmly in middle age, I learned that I needed braces. They were not only humiliating, but also excruciating. For weeks my gums, teeth, jaw and sinuses throbbed. I complained frequently and loudly. Scott assured me that I would become used to all the metal in my mouth. I did not.
One morning, as I launched into yet another tirade about how uncomfortable I was, Scott just looked at me blankly. He didn't say a word or acknowledge my rant in any way, not even with a nod.
I quickly ran out of steam and started to walk away. Then I realized what was happening, and I turned and asked, "Are you giving me an L. R. S.?" Silence. "You are, aren't you?"
He finally smiled, but his L. R. S. has already done the trick. He'd begun to train me, the American wife.
What Shamu Taught Me About a Happy Marriage
By AMY SUTHERLAND
Published: June 25, 2006 (N.Y.Times)
AS I wash dishes at the kitchen sink, my husband paces behind me, irritated. "Have you seen my keys?" he snarls, then huffs out a loud sigh and stomps from the room with our dog, Dixie, at his heels, anxious over her favorite human's upset.
In the past I would have been right behind Dixie. I would have turned off the faucet and joined the hunt while trying to soothe my husband with bromides like, "Don't worry, they'll turn up." But that only made him angrier, and a simple case of missing keys soon would become a full-blown angst-ridden drama starring the two of us and our poor nervous dog.
Now, I focus on the wet dish in my hands. I don't turn around. I don't say a word. I'm using a technique I learned from a dolphin trainer.
I love my husband. He's well read, adventurous and does a hysterical rendition of a northern Vermont accent that still cracks me up after 12 years of marriage.
But he also tends to be forgetful, and is often tardy and mercurial. He hovers around me in the kitchen asking if I read this or that piece in The New Yorker when I'm trying to concentrate on the simmering pans. He leaves wadded tissues in his wake. He suffers from serious bouts of spousal deafness but never fails to hear me when I mutter to myself on the other side of the house. "What did you say?" he'll shout.
These minor annoyances are not the stuff of separation and divorce, but in sum they began to dull my love for Scott. I wanted — needed — to nudge him a little closer to perfect, to make him into a mate who might annoy me a little less, who wouldn't keep me waiting at restaurants, a mate who would be easier to love.
So, like many wives before me, I ignored a library of advice books and set about improving him. By nagging, of course, which only made his behavior worse: he'd drive faster instead of slower; shave less frequently, not more; and leave his reeking bike garb on the bedroom floor longer than ever.
We went to a counselor to smooth the edges off our marriage. She didn't understand what we were doing there and complimented us repeatedly on how well we communicated. I gave up. I guessed she was right — our union was better than most — and resigned myself to stretches of slow-boil resentment and occasional sarcasm.
Then something magical happened. For a book I was writing about a school for exotic animal trainers, I started commuting from Maine to California, where I spent my days watching students do the seemingly impossible: teaching hyenas to pirouette on command, cougars to offer their paws for a nail clipping, and baboons to skateboard.
I listened, rapt, as professional trainers explained how they taught dolphins to flip and elephants to paint. Eventually it hit me that the same techniques might work on that stubborn but lovable species, the American husband.
The central lesson I learned from exotic animal trainers is that I should reward behavior I like and ignore behavior I don't. After all, you don't get a sea lion to balance a ball on the end of its nose by nagging. The same goes for the American husband.
Back in Maine, I began thanking Scott if he threw one dirty shirt into the hamper. If he threw in two, I'd kiss him. Meanwhile, I would step over any soiled clothes on the floor without one sharp word, though I did sometimes kick them under the bed. But as he basked in my appreciation, the piles became smaller.
I was using what trainers call "approximations," rewarding the small steps toward learning a whole new behavior. You can't expect a baboon to learn to flip on command in one session, just as you can't expect an American husband to begin regularly picking up his dirty socks by praising him once for picking up a single sock. With the baboon you first reward a hop, then a bigger hop, then an even bigger hop. With Scott the husband, I began to praise every small act every time: if he drove just a mile an hour slower, tossed one pair of shorts into the hamper, or was on time for anything.
I also began to analyze my husband the way a trainer considers an exotic animal. Enlightened trainers learn all they can about a species, from anatomy to social structure, to understand how it thinks, what it likes and dislikes, what comes easily to it and what doesn't. For example, an elephant is a herd animal, so it responds to hierarchy. It cannot jump, but can stand on its head. It is a vegetarian.
The exotic animal known as Scott is a loner, but an alpha male. So hierarchy matters, but being in a group doesn't so much. He has the balance of a gymnast, but moves slowly, especially when getting dressed. Skiing comes naturally, but being on time does not. He's an omnivore, and what a trainer would call food-driven.
Once I started thinking this way, I couldn't stop. At the school in California, I'd be scribbling notes on how to walk an emu or have a wolf accept you as a pack member, but I'd be thinking, "I can't wait to try this on Scott."
On a field trip with the students, I listened to a professional trainer describe how he had taught African crested cranes to stop landing on his head and shoulders. He did this by training the leggy birds to land on mats on the ground. This, he explained, is what is called an "incompatible behavior," a simple but brilliant concept.
Rather than teach the cranes to stop landing on him, the trainer taught the birds something else, a behavior that would make the undesirable behavior impossible. The birds couldn't alight on the mats and his head simultaneously.
At home, I came up with incompatible behaviors for Scott to keep him from crowding me while I cooked. To lure him away from the stove, I piled up parsley for him to chop or cheese for him to grate at the other end of the kitchen island. Or I'd set out a bowl of chips and salsa across the room. Soon I'd done it: no more Scott hovering around me while I cooked.
I followed the students to SeaWorld San Diego, where a dolphin trainer introduced me to least reinforcing syndrome (L. R. S.). When a dolphin does something wrong, the trainer doesn't respond in any way. He stands still for a few beats, careful not to look at the dolphin, and then returns to work. The idea is that any response, positive or negative, fuels a behavior. If a behavior provokes no response, it typically dies away.
In the margins of my notes I wrote, "Try on Scott!"
It was only a matter of time before he was again tearing around the house searching for his keys, at which point I said nothing and kept at what I was doing. It took a lot of discipline to maintain my calm, but results were immediate and stunning. His temper fell far shy of its usual pitch and then waned like a fast-moving storm. I felt as if I should throw him a mackerel.
Now he's at it again; I hear him banging a closet door shut, rustling through papers on a chest in the front hall and thumping upstairs. At the sink, I hold steady. Then, sure enough, all goes quiet. A moment later, he walks into the kitchen, keys in hand, and says calmly, "Found them."
Without turning, I call out, "Great, see you later."
Off he goes with our much-calmed pup.
After two years of exotic animal training, my marriage is far smoother, my husband much easier to love. I used to take his faults personally; his dirty clothes on the floor were an affront, a symbol of how he didn't care enough about me. But thinking of my husband as an exotic species gave me the distance I needed to consider our differences more objectively.
I adopted the trainers' motto: "It's never the animal's fault." When my training attempts failed, I didn't blame Scott. Rather, I brainstormed new strategies, thought up more incompatible behaviors and used smaller approximations. I dissected my own behavior, considered how my actions might inadvertently fuel his. I also accepted that some behaviors were too entrenched, too instinctive to train away. You can't stop a badger from digging, and you can't stop my husband from losing his wallet and keys.
PROFESSIONALS talk of animals that understand training so well they eventually use it back on the trainer. My animal did the same. When the training techniques worked so beautifully, I couldn't resist telling my husband what I was up to. He wasn't offended, just amused. As I explained the techniques and terminology, he soaked it up. Far more than I realized.
Last fall, firmly in middle age, I learned that I needed braces. They were not only humiliating, but also excruciating. For weeks my gums, teeth, jaw and sinuses throbbed. I complained frequently and loudly. Scott assured me that I would become used to all the metal in my mouth. I did not.
One morning, as I launched into yet another tirade about how uncomfortable I was, Scott just looked at me blankly. He didn't say a word or acknowledge my rant in any way, not even with a nod.
I quickly ran out of steam and started to walk away. Then I realized what was happening, and I turned and asked, "Are you giving me an L. R. S.?" Silence. "You are, aren't you?"
He finally smiled, but his L. R. S. has already done the trick. He'd begun to train me, the American wife.
"Zoning out" (Mindless reading) or...not comprehending
Mindless reading seen as fundamental
By BEN FELLER, AP Education Writer (from Yahoo News)
WASHINGTON - Better pay attention, reader. This whole story may be a blur.
For the first time, researchers have demonstrated the ill effects of mindless reading — a phenomenon in which people take in sentence after sentence without really paying attention.
Ever read the same paragraph three times? Or get to the end of a page and realize you don't know what you just read?
That's mindless reading. It is the literary equivalent of driving for miles without remembering how you got there — something so common many people don't even notice it.
In a new study of college students, researchers from the University of Pittsburgh and the University of British Columbia established a way to study mindless reading in a lab.
Their findings showed that daydreaming has its costs.
The readers who zoned out most tended to do the worst on tests of reading comprehension — a significant, if not surprising, result. The study also suggested that zoning out caused the poor test results, as opposed to other possible factors, such as the complexity of the text or the task.
The researchers hope their work inspires more research into why zoning out happens, and what can be done to stop it.
For now, they want the problem to be taken seriously.
"When you talk about this work at conferences, it does lend itself to a lot of jokes," acknowledges University of Pittsburgh professor Erik Reichle, co-leader of the study.
"It's so ubiquitous. Everybody does it," he said. "I think that's one of the main reasons it's been overlooked. And there's been a view that it is tough to study experimentally. Hopefully, now, there will be more interest in the topic."
The federal government is showing some.
Reichle and fellow psychology professor Jonathan Schooler did the study on a $691,000 grant from the Institute of Education Sciences, an arm of the Education Department. It is one of 178 federally backed projects aimed at giving schools a scientific basis for sound policies.
Over three experiments, students used computers to read the first five chapters of Leo Tolstoy's "War and Peace." (Reichle wanted some boring reading — better for zoning out.)
Reichle said the dry text itself did not skew the results toward mindless wandering. After all, the students were on alert, unlike the typical reader.
Participants were told to monitor and report instances of zoning out as they read text on a computer. Half of them got computer reminders, too: "Were you zoning out?"
Despite all that, many still reported zoning out at a regular pace.
"That's the amazing thing," Reichle said. "It shows how often this can happen even under conditions that are designed to keep it from happening."
The students said as their eyes scanned the words, their minds often were elsewhere.
They were hungry, or thirsty, or tired. They were thinking about plans, worries or memories. Some drifted into fantasies. Others stuck with the book, but their minds wandered into tangents about the plot.
Karen Wixson, a nationally recognized reading expert and professor of education at the University of Michigan, cautioned not to read too much into all this.
"This is a long ways away from having implications for reading instruction," Wixson said. "It could, eventually, down the line. But to draw inferences about this as a contributing factor toward reading comprehension would be a huge, huge leap."
To apply to younger kids — the target audience of reading classes — the findings would have to be replicated among school-age children, Wixson said.
She said participants may have zoned more often because they were reading off computer screens, and because they had no real incentive to pay attention, as they would in school.
But at the International Reading Association, Cathy Roller sees some direct payoff. She directs research and policy for the association, which represents literacy professionals.
By recognizing zoning out as problem, she said, teachers can do something.
Like asking students to put a checkmark next to paragraphs as they finish them and then summarize what they just read.
Or having students scan all the pictures and bold type before reading the text of a story, so that they have a general understanding of what's to come.
Zoning out may simply mean that the prose isn't interesting, Roller said. But it could also be a clear signal that students don't understand the work.
"You don't want to generalize narrow studies into large implications," Roller said. "But zoning out is probably not a whole lot different than not comprehending. And telling people to start using some good comprehension strategies is not likely to do any harm."
Roller knows. She had just been zoning out while reading a literature review.
By the way, last sentence here. If you missed anything, there's no shame in rereading.
By BEN FELLER, AP Education Writer (from Yahoo News)
WASHINGTON - Better pay attention, reader. This whole story may be a blur.
For the first time, researchers have demonstrated the ill effects of mindless reading — a phenomenon in which people take in sentence after sentence without really paying attention.
Ever read the same paragraph three times? Or get to the end of a page and realize you don't know what you just read?
That's mindless reading. It is the literary equivalent of driving for miles without remembering how you got there — something so common many people don't even notice it.
In a new study of college students, researchers from the University of Pittsburgh and the University of British Columbia established a way to study mindless reading in a lab.
Their findings showed that daydreaming has its costs.
The readers who zoned out most tended to do the worst on tests of reading comprehension — a significant, if not surprising, result. The study also suggested that zoning out caused the poor test results, as opposed to other possible factors, such as the complexity of the text or the task.
The researchers hope their work inspires more research into why zoning out happens, and what can be done to stop it.
For now, they want the problem to be taken seriously.
"When you talk about this work at conferences, it does lend itself to a lot of jokes," acknowledges University of Pittsburgh professor Erik Reichle, co-leader of the study.
"It's so ubiquitous. Everybody does it," he said. "I think that's one of the main reasons it's been overlooked. And there's been a view that it is tough to study experimentally. Hopefully, now, there will be more interest in the topic."
The federal government is showing some.
Reichle and fellow psychology professor Jonathan Schooler did the study on a $691,000 grant from the Institute of Education Sciences, an arm of the Education Department. It is one of 178 federally backed projects aimed at giving schools a scientific basis for sound policies.
Over three experiments, students used computers to read the first five chapters of Leo Tolstoy's "War and Peace." (Reichle wanted some boring reading — better for zoning out.)
Reichle said the dry text itself did not skew the results toward mindless wandering. After all, the students were on alert, unlike the typical reader.
Participants were told to monitor and report instances of zoning out as they read text on a computer. Half of them got computer reminders, too: "Were you zoning out?"
Despite all that, many still reported zoning out at a regular pace.
"That's the amazing thing," Reichle said. "It shows how often this can happen even under conditions that are designed to keep it from happening."
The students said as their eyes scanned the words, their minds often were elsewhere.
They were hungry, or thirsty, or tired. They were thinking about plans, worries or memories. Some drifted into fantasies. Others stuck with the book, but their minds wandered into tangents about the plot.
Karen Wixson, a nationally recognized reading expert and professor of education at the University of Michigan, cautioned not to read too much into all this.
"This is a long ways away from having implications for reading instruction," Wixson said. "It could, eventually, down the line. But to draw inferences about this as a contributing factor toward reading comprehension would be a huge, huge leap."
To apply to younger kids — the target audience of reading classes — the findings would have to be replicated among school-age children, Wixson said.
She said participants may have zoned more often because they were reading off computer screens, and because they had no real incentive to pay attention, as they would in school.
But at the International Reading Association, Cathy Roller sees some direct payoff. She directs research and policy for the association, which represents literacy professionals.
By recognizing zoning out as problem, she said, teachers can do something.
Like asking students to put a checkmark next to paragraphs as they finish them and then summarize what they just read.
Or having students scan all the pictures and bold type before reading the text of a story, so that they have a general understanding of what's to come.
Zoning out may simply mean that the prose isn't interesting, Roller said. But it could also be a clear signal that students don't understand the work.
"You don't want to generalize narrow studies into large implications," Roller said. "But zoning out is probably not a whole lot different than not comprehending. And telling people to start using some good comprehension strategies is not likely to do any harm."
Roller knows. She had just been zoning out while reading a literature review.
By the way, last sentence here. If you missed anything, there's no shame in rereading.
International Gay Parade, Jerusalem August 10
In Bucharest, one month ago , a gay parade provoked violent reactions from the public. Some tourists were molested in the metro, the police so it seems, used the “blame the victim” policy. For sure in Jerusalem, the Holly City, the religious community will react too in a tough way, let’s hope that the reason combined with good police work will insure a civilized event.
Parade of perversion is under way (Ha-Aretz)
By Shahar Ilan
The head of the Har Etzion Yeshiva, Rabbi Yaakov Madan, published an article about two weeks ago in which he called for "stopping the parade of abomination," referring to the International Gay Pride Parade that will take place in Jerusalem August 10. However, the real parade of abomination is already under way. One after another, rabbis and Orthodox and ultra-Orthodox thinkers, both eminent and those less so, are jumping on the bandwagon and publishing particularly repulsive defamations, invective and incitement against the homo-lesbian community. Madan, for example, compares the gay parade to the pagan "high places of Tophet" in the Valley of the Sons of Hinnom. These altars, according to the prophet Jeremiah, served to "burn their sons and daughters in the fire" ?(7:31?). And what can be expected for those who offer such sacrifices, according to the prophet? "The carcasses of these people shall be meat for the fowls of the heaven and for the beasts of the earth" ?(7.34?). Madan partnered with Professor Ruth Gavison to create the Gavison-Madan covenant ? an important attempt at dialogue between religious and secular people. The crude-spirited article renders Madan irrelevant for many secular people. Homosexuals and lesbians make up a large and important sector in the Jewish people. They are our brothers and sisters, no less than the rabbi. The Har Etzion Yeshiva is the cradle of the moderate religious movement Meimad. Are the values of hatred of those who are different, as well as the fanning of inclinations, the values that the yeshiva wishes to instill in its students?
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The editor in chief of the ultra-Orthodox newspaper Mishpaha, Rabbi Moshe Garelik, writes that the religious protest against the gay pride parade will be joined by many national religious people, "who like us are disgusted by the perverts' attempt." Garelik warns that because of the parade, the third exile will come. The question arises as to whether the rabbi has forgotten that Jerusalem was destroyed not because men lay with men, but because of unnecessary hatred? Madan and Garelik are among the more moderate spokesmen of the religious public, but when it comes to homosexuals, it appears that there are those who believe that any excoriation is permissible. The ultra-Orthodox object, and with great justice, to the use of the word "parasite" against them, because a parasite is not human, and requires disinfection. But for some reason, they believe that it is permissible for them to compare homosexuals to beasts and to mention that in the Bible, their punishment is death, and that it is permissible to warn that they will spread AIDS. It is the full right of every individual to oppose the International Gay Pride Parade, to try to prevent it in legal ways, and to demonstrate against it, but the campaign of incitement and excoriation the rabbis are conducting against homosexuals is intolerable and unacceptable. This style is made possible partly because homophobes everywhere are convinced that everyone in the public is, deep down, a little homophobe who has yet to come out of the closet of hatred. Any argument about the gay pride parade will eventually arrive at the statement: "You too wouldn't want a homosexual child." The time has come to root out this assumption. Children's addiction to drugs and alcohol, to joining a cult ? including the cult of becoming religious ? and to crime is scary. Homosexual or lesbian? So what? Indeed, this is not simple, because of the homophobes. That's because they put both the child and parent into a persecuted minority. But this is no longer complicated. However, if the child grows up to become a benighted fanatic and homophobe, it will be really terrible. On many Internet forums, the self-righteous sentence, "Okay, let them be homos, but what do they have to be proud about?" often appears. The real meaning of this sentence is: If they can't restrain themselves, let them at least be underground. But the members of the homo-lesbian community do have much in which to take pride. They can take pride in that despite the hatred, racism, crudeness and ignorance, they have built a life and community, and have come out of the closet. They can take pride in that with great difficulty, they have achieved what is taken for granted by the heterosexual. And above all: They are proud of what they are. The entire public must come to Jerusalem on the day of the parade. Straight people, too, should be there. Especially straight people. Mass participation will make it clear that same-sex relations are something absolutely normal in an enlightened society, an inalienable part of human variety. And religious fanaticism and benighted hatred are especially repulsive and disgusting perversions.
Parade of perversion is under way (Ha-Aretz)
By Shahar Ilan
The head of the Har Etzion Yeshiva, Rabbi Yaakov Madan, published an article about two weeks ago in which he called for "stopping the parade of abomination," referring to the International Gay Pride Parade that will take place in Jerusalem August 10. However, the real parade of abomination is already under way. One after another, rabbis and Orthodox and ultra-Orthodox thinkers, both eminent and those less so, are jumping on the bandwagon and publishing particularly repulsive defamations, invective and incitement against the homo-lesbian community. Madan, for example, compares the gay parade to the pagan "high places of Tophet" in the Valley of the Sons of Hinnom. These altars, according to the prophet Jeremiah, served to "burn their sons and daughters in the fire" ?(7:31?). And what can be expected for those who offer such sacrifices, according to the prophet? "The carcasses of these people shall be meat for the fowls of the heaven and for the beasts of the earth" ?(7.34?). Madan partnered with Professor Ruth Gavison to create the Gavison-Madan covenant ? an important attempt at dialogue between religious and secular people. The crude-spirited article renders Madan irrelevant for many secular people. Homosexuals and lesbians make up a large and important sector in the Jewish people. They are our brothers and sisters, no less than the rabbi. The Har Etzion Yeshiva is the cradle of the moderate religious movement Meimad. Are the values of hatred of those who are different, as well as the fanning of inclinations, the values that the yeshiva wishes to instill in its students?
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The editor in chief of the ultra-Orthodox newspaper Mishpaha, Rabbi Moshe Garelik, writes that the religious protest against the gay pride parade will be joined by many national religious people, "who like us are disgusted by the perverts' attempt." Garelik warns that because of the parade, the third exile will come. The question arises as to whether the rabbi has forgotten that Jerusalem was destroyed not because men lay with men, but because of unnecessary hatred? Madan and Garelik are among the more moderate spokesmen of the religious public, but when it comes to homosexuals, it appears that there are those who believe that any excoriation is permissible. The ultra-Orthodox object, and with great justice, to the use of the word "parasite" against them, because a parasite is not human, and requires disinfection. But for some reason, they believe that it is permissible for them to compare homosexuals to beasts and to mention that in the Bible, their punishment is death, and that it is permissible to warn that they will spread AIDS. It is the full right of every individual to oppose the International Gay Pride Parade, to try to prevent it in legal ways, and to demonstrate against it, but the campaign of incitement and excoriation the rabbis are conducting against homosexuals is intolerable and unacceptable. This style is made possible partly because homophobes everywhere are convinced that everyone in the public is, deep down, a little homophobe who has yet to come out of the closet of hatred. Any argument about the gay pride parade will eventually arrive at the statement: "You too wouldn't want a homosexual child." The time has come to root out this assumption. Children's addiction to drugs and alcohol, to joining a cult ? including the cult of becoming religious ? and to crime is scary. Homosexual or lesbian? So what? Indeed, this is not simple, because of the homophobes. That's because they put both the child and parent into a persecuted minority. But this is no longer complicated. However, if the child grows up to become a benighted fanatic and homophobe, it will be really terrible. On many Internet forums, the self-righteous sentence, "Okay, let them be homos, but what do they have to be proud about?" often appears. The real meaning of this sentence is: If they can't restrain themselves, let them at least be underground. But the members of the homo-lesbian community do have much in which to take pride. They can take pride in that despite the hatred, racism, crudeness and ignorance, they have built a life and community, and have come out of the closet. They can take pride in that with great difficulty, they have achieved what is taken for granted by the heterosexual. And above all: They are proud of what they are. The entire public must come to Jerusalem on the day of the parade. Straight people, too, should be there. Especially straight people. Mass participation will make it clear that same-sex relations are something absolutely normal in an enlightened society, an inalienable part of human variety. And religious fanaticism and benighted hatred are especially repulsive and disgusting perversions.
Monday, July 03, 2006
Deklen
Deklen este prietenul meu irlandez. Are tot umorul, toata candoarea, tot farmecul si toata setea Irlandei. Cand ne intalnim, pericol mare pentru Guiness-ul locului, avem in general grija sa ajungem impreuna la pub. Caci nu e sanatos ca unul din noi sa aiba un start timpuriu, cand celalat i se alatura, primul venit este deja plecat la distante mari. Dar chiar si in aceste conditii vitrege, liniile de comunicatie sa pastreaza in bune conditii tehnice. Nu am un prieten mai placut la baut decat Deklen. O mare traditie de sugatori in Irlanda! Ce parere ai, JJ?
Asaf
Asaf este un chitarist exceptional. Joaca si biliard foarte bine. Dar este proprietarul barului "Mike's Place", bar prezent si in Tel Aviv si in Ierusalim. Ascuns in curtile de piatra ale cartierului Nahlat Shiva, la Mike's in aceste seri Guiness-ul curge in valuri, intre doua jocuri de biliard tragi cu ochiul la Mondial. Si nu mai putin important, locul este foarte iubit de tineri in trecere prin Ierusalim, veniti din cele patru colturi ale lumii. Ochii care "nu imbatraneste" limpeziti de berea gustoasa, au o bucurie speciala in a privi fetiscanele departe de casa si parinti...
Shimi
Shimi este etiopian la origina, din Adis Abeba. Zugrav de meserie, casatorit cu o englezoaica din Londra. S-au cunoscut si s-au luat la Ierusalim. O persoana delicata si de o mare sensibilitate, atent si dedicat, liberal in opinii dar inversunat in atitudini, Shimi este un reprezentant de onoare a unei rase nobile. Etiopienii ierusalemiti au doua puncte de mare interes in oras: strada Profetilor si Sfantul Mormant. Un al treilea se naste in piazza Rivlin, la parlamentul nostru de vineri.
Mana in mana cu James
Nu stiu daca il iubesc pe JJ in calitatea lui de marele scriitor al veacului 20, sau il vreau ca prieten insotitor in odiseele mele, reale sau virtuale. Pornind nu de la ideea speculativa ca onorabilul domn LB este alter ego-ul lui JJ, ci de la certitudine, am hotarat sa fac impreuna cu bardul cativa pasi prin Ierusalimul meu, sa-l cinstesc cu o cantitate suficienta de Guiness, incat nu gura sa i-o deschid ci urechea sa o desfund. Si mai ales ochii. Sa vada ce vad si eu, sa auda ce aud si eu, si impreuna sa radem cu pofta celui care merge prin desert si da peste apa rece.
Sunday, July 02, 2006
If you want to be happy try "Tphilim" Friday evening...
The two ultra orthodox guys , every Friday just before the Shabat, came to Jerusalem central area, visit every pub and offer to the clients to make a prayer and to use the "tphilim". They are nice, not agressive and they belong to the Habad community.Here in the picture, my friend Eli (he works for the Israeli TV) perform his prayer. He does it every week.
Are Israelis really happy? (Ha-Aretz)
I have a warm feeling and a special friendship for Shahar Ilan. Today a writer for Ha-Aretz, some twenty years ago with “Kol Ha-Ir “ in Jerusalem, the local newspaper attached to Ha-Aretz. Town gossip, stories about the Ultra Orthodox community, and so on. He wrote some stories about me, I was than very much involved with the struggle of the “laics” against the “Ultra Orthodox” attempt to conquer large pieces of the town real estate and to close roads and shops on Shabbat. He wrote also about some projects I designed for the city.Ha-Aretz, a major newspaper in Israel , hired him to become a specialist and writer on matters concerning the religious and ultra orthodox communities in Jerusalem. And now I see him in charge with many feature stories….
Are Israelis really happy? (from Ha-Aretz)
By Shahar Ilan
It happens to us every year. Ever since the Central Bureau of Statistics began publicizing its "social survey" data in 2003, we are surprised each time to hear that four out of every five adults in Israel are content with their lives. Last week, the CBS issued the "happiness meter" statistics (in fact, no such formal appellation exists; it is the writer's invention) for 2005: 82 percent of Israelis are happy with their lives, including 88 percent of young people. Many of these young people, mind you, were too disheartened with the situation to even take the trouble of casting a vote in the election that took place earlier this year.Will the real Israeli people please stand up? Are we a people whose most fundamental human right is the right to grumble and whine? Or are we really so happy? Four years ago, when the CBS findings were first publicized, Haaretz conducted a poll of its own. In that poll, 80 percent of respondents also said they were happy with their lives. But then Haaretz expanded the menu of possible responses, at which point it became clear that the majority were only somewhat happy. It was also found that 85 percent were not happy with the "state of the state." One got the impression that the results in fact indicated that Israel was a country whose citizens had learned to accept the bad news with equanimity. When you ask people to sum up their situation in a single word, they say "Okay." When you ask them to sum it up into more than one word, they answer "Not so okay." This is how statistician Rafi Smith interprets the findings on "satisfaction with one's life." "It's as if you would ask someone how things are going," says Smith. "He answers you with 'okay,' without telling you straight away the entire tale of all his woes. But if you delve deep, you'll find that he has quite a few problems."
One way to explain this, adds Smith, is that "when people talk about their personal lives, they have a tendency to beautify reality." The question, he feels, "doesn't tell you anything about life in Israel, about its complexity, or about what bothers people here." "Israelis love life, like the Brazilians," says sociologist Prof. Oz Almog of the University of Haifa, who goes on to enumerate a few more reasons for our positive outlook: "All of the surveys show that it is alienation that leads to strongly negative feelings, and the key to enjoying life is the sensation that you belong. In Israel, there is a strong sense that the state belongs to me and I belong to the state. Israel is a country in which people wear few masks. They are less guarded; they look each other in the eye. There is an Israeli way of looking at a person. It's very comforting to live this way. There is a high standard of living here. There's also something in the climate." So why do we grumble? "Complaining doesn't mean you're not enjoying life," the sociologist declares. "Some people complain and enjoy the act of complaining." Explanations aside, Almog does not quite believe in these polls. "To a large extent, they're nonsense," he states. "They are the malignant disease of the social sciences."
Are Israelis really happy? (from Ha-Aretz)
By Shahar Ilan
It happens to us every year. Ever since the Central Bureau of Statistics began publicizing its "social survey" data in 2003, we are surprised each time to hear that four out of every five adults in Israel are content with their lives. Last week, the CBS issued the "happiness meter" statistics (in fact, no such formal appellation exists; it is the writer's invention) for 2005: 82 percent of Israelis are happy with their lives, including 88 percent of young people. Many of these young people, mind you, were too disheartened with the situation to even take the trouble of casting a vote in the election that took place earlier this year.Will the real Israeli people please stand up? Are we a people whose most fundamental human right is the right to grumble and whine? Or are we really so happy? Four years ago, when the CBS findings were first publicized, Haaretz conducted a poll of its own. In that poll, 80 percent of respondents also said they were happy with their lives. But then Haaretz expanded the menu of possible responses, at which point it became clear that the majority were only somewhat happy. It was also found that 85 percent were not happy with the "state of the state." One got the impression that the results in fact indicated that Israel was a country whose citizens had learned to accept the bad news with equanimity. When you ask people to sum up their situation in a single word, they say "Okay." When you ask them to sum it up into more than one word, they answer "Not so okay." This is how statistician Rafi Smith interprets the findings on "satisfaction with one's life." "It's as if you would ask someone how things are going," says Smith. "He answers you with 'okay,' without telling you straight away the entire tale of all his woes. But if you delve deep, you'll find that he has quite a few problems."
One way to explain this, adds Smith, is that "when people talk about their personal lives, they have a tendency to beautify reality." The question, he feels, "doesn't tell you anything about life in Israel, about its complexity, or about what bothers people here." "Israelis love life, like the Brazilians," says sociologist Prof. Oz Almog of the University of Haifa, who goes on to enumerate a few more reasons for our positive outlook: "All of the surveys show that it is alienation that leads to strongly negative feelings, and the key to enjoying life is the sensation that you belong. In Israel, there is a strong sense that the state belongs to me and I belong to the state. Israel is a country in which people wear few masks. They are less guarded; they look each other in the eye. There is an Israeli way of looking at a person. It's very comforting to live this way. There is a high standard of living here. There's also something in the climate." So why do we grumble? "Complaining doesn't mean you're not enjoying life," the sociologist declares. "Some people complain and enjoy the act of complaining." Explanations aside, Almog does not quite believe in these polls. "To a large extent, they're nonsense," he states. "They are the malignant disease of the social sciences."
Gigi, viitorul presedinte al Romaniei!
Imi amintesc de T-Shirts cu fata lui Arafat imprimata pe ele, si alaturi de portretul lui atragator, o intrebare:
"Ati cumpara o masina la mana a doua de la el?
Intreb aceeasi intrebare cu noua adresa:
GIGI BECALI....
O stire banala din Bucuresti.
In ziarul Atac din Bucuresti se publica stirea de mai jos, aflam -fara surprindere- ca Gigi Becali cumpara un palat din Bucuresti si cumpara odata cu el o adresa. Aleea Alexandru nr. 1. Adresa se pare ca are semnificatie electorala, Gigi si-a propus sa fie presedintele Romaniei. Veti descoperi in articolul de mai jos atat umorul individului, "jemanfutismul" lui, cat si veleitatile lui politice.
Curios, individul incepe sa-mi fie simpatic. Intr-adevar reprezinta Romania, asa cum este ea. Din punctul meu de vedere n-are decat sa fie presedinte, daca romanii il vor. Caci o tara democrata are si presedintele si primul ministru si politicienii pe care ii merita...
Pe de alta parte, cu ce era mai bun proprietarul de drept al casei, magnatul Auxschmidt?
Primise averea lui de la Dumnezeu direct? Sau fusese abil, smecher si lipsit de scrupule, ca orice individ care sta in spatele unei mari averi?
In concluzie: ce mi-e Auxscmidt, ce mi-e Becali!
Gigi Becali si-a mai cumparat un palat
Autor: A NICUSOR NICULAE (Postat la 30-06-2006)
nicusor.niculae@atac-0nline.ro
7 milioane de dolari.
Atat a platit Gigi Becali pentru vila de patrimoniu, din centrul Capitalei, pe care a cumparat-o miercuri. Casa este situata pe Aleea Alexandru numarul 1 si tocmai acest lucru l-a convins pe finantatorul Stelei sa scoata bani din contul personal.
„Am vrut sa trag asa, o aroganta, partidului PD, caci e langa mine si sunt mai puternic decat partidul PD, pentru ca palatul arata mai tare decat Palatul Modrogan. Nu zic numai de suprafat a construita de 3.000 de metri patrati si de curte, care are 3.200 de metri patrati, dar m-a atras placuta de la intrare. Are numarul 1. Daca era 2, n-o luam. Unu, eu trebuie sa fiu unu intotdeauna“.
Vila a fost a industriasului interbelic Max Auxschmidt, principalul sponsor al regelui Carol al II-lea si al principalelor partide politice. Ulterior, a intrat in administrarea RAPPS si a devenit ambasada pentru Argentina. Apropiatii l-au sfatuit pe Gigi Becali ca, inainte de inceperea renova rilor, sa scoata microfoanele cu care a fost intesata vila. Noul proprietar spune ca va investi cel putin 500 - un milion de euro in reparatii si renovari, pentru ca, „tot ce a fost inainte poleit cu aur, va fi poleit cu aur, iar la sfarsit va fi chiar mai frumos decat inainte. Apoi, instalez aici Comandamentul si pentru partid, si pentru clubul Steaua“. Deja, mai multi muncitori au fost adusi sa faca noi amenajari in curte, iar ieri, noul proprietar a primit un musafir important. Viorel Hrebenciuc a plecat de la Parlament pentru a onora invitatia lui Gigi Becali de a-i vizita cea mai recenta „aroganta“.
Curios, individul incepe sa-mi fie simpatic. Intr-adevar reprezinta Romania, asa cum este ea. Din punctul meu de vedere n-are decat sa fie presedinte, daca romanii il vor. Caci o tara democrata are si presedintele si primul ministru si politicienii pe care ii merita...
Pe de alta parte, cu ce era mai bun proprietarul de drept al casei, magnatul Auxschmidt?
Primise averea lui de la Dumnezeu direct? Sau fusese abil, smecher si lipsit de scrupule, ca orice individ care sta in spatele unei mari averi?
In concluzie: ce mi-e Auxscmidt, ce mi-e Becali!
Gigi Becali si-a mai cumparat un palat
Autor: A NICUSOR NICULAE (Postat la 30-06-2006)
nicusor.niculae@atac-0nline.ro
7 milioane de dolari.
Atat a platit Gigi Becali pentru vila de patrimoniu, din centrul Capitalei, pe care a cumparat-o miercuri. Casa este situata pe Aleea Alexandru numarul 1 si tocmai acest lucru l-a convins pe finantatorul Stelei sa scoata bani din contul personal.
„Am vrut sa trag asa, o aroganta, partidului PD, caci e langa mine si sunt mai puternic decat partidul PD, pentru ca palatul arata mai tare decat Palatul Modrogan. Nu zic numai de suprafat a construita de 3.000 de metri patrati si de curte, care are 3.200 de metri patrati, dar m-a atras placuta de la intrare. Are numarul 1. Daca era 2, n-o luam. Unu, eu trebuie sa fiu unu intotdeauna“.
Vila a fost a industriasului interbelic Max Auxschmidt, principalul sponsor al regelui Carol al II-lea si al principalelor partide politice. Ulterior, a intrat in administrarea RAPPS si a devenit ambasada pentru Argentina. Apropiatii l-au sfatuit pe Gigi Becali ca, inainte de inceperea renova rilor, sa scoata microfoanele cu care a fost intesata vila. Noul proprietar spune ca va investi cel putin 500 - un milion de euro in reparatii si renovari, pentru ca, „tot ce a fost inainte poleit cu aur, va fi poleit cu aur, iar la sfarsit va fi chiar mai frumos decat inainte. Apoi, instalez aici Comandamentul si pentru partid, si pentru clubul Steaua“. Deja, mai multi muncitori au fost adusi sa faca noi amenajari in curte, iar ieri, noul proprietar a primit un musafir important. Viorel Hrebenciuc a plecat de la Parlament pentru a onora invitatia lui Gigi Becali de a-i vizita cea mai recenta „aroganta“.
Friday, June 30, 2006
Despre presa romaneasca si o propunere interesanta
Cand sunt la Bucuresti, intr-o carciuma sau alta, la ora pranzului, citesc ca tot omul, ziarul. "Jurnalul National" de pilda, de mare popularitate, spatios, generos, cu informatile de care ai neaparata nevoie, cum ar fi vremea. Si vremurile. Ziarul il poti gasi distribuit generos cu o seara inainte de aparitia pe piata la Taverna Sarbului, carciuma si ea populara in propritatea (Minune!) a proprietarului Jurnalului National (parca Tuca pe nume).
O fituica de scandal pe care o poti vedea si pe net este "Atac"-(http://www.atac-online.ro/index.php) care astazi arunca o propunere interesanta catre judetele tarii:
"Info Media Press ofera franciza ATAC! Cotidianul ATAC si-a recastigat, in numai cateva zile de la relansare, pozitia importanta de pe piata media din Romania. Detinatoarea brandului ATAC, societatea Info Media Press, care editeaza ziarul, ofera franciza ATAC pe toate judetele tarii. Toti cei care sunt interesati de infiintarea unor ziare locale sau regionale sub sigla ATAC sunt rugati sa ne contacteze, pentru detalii, la numerele de telefon: (021)2.60.20.70 sau 0742.09.09.02 "
Asa ca, daca dintre cititorii mei, cineva este interesat, iata informatia necesara pentru o afacere, cine stie?, manoasa...
Un avantaj au cu siguranta ziarele romanesti. Se citesc repede. Ori stapanesc eu bine limba romana, ori continutul lor este...subtire.
O fituica de scandal pe care o poti vedea si pe net este "Atac"-(http://www.atac-online.ro/index.php) care astazi arunca o propunere interesanta catre judetele tarii:
"Info Media Press ofera franciza ATAC! Cotidianul ATAC si-a recastigat, in numai cateva zile de la relansare, pozitia importanta de pe piata media din Romania. Detinatoarea brandului ATAC, societatea Info Media Press, care editeaza ziarul, ofera franciza ATAC pe toate judetele tarii. Toti cei care sunt interesati de infiintarea unor ziare locale sau regionale sub sigla ATAC sunt rugati sa ne contacteze, pentru detalii, la numerele de telefon: (021)2.60.20.70 sau 0742.09.09.02 "
Asa ca, daca dintre cititorii mei, cineva este interesat, iata informatia necesara pentru o afacere, cine stie?, manoasa...
Un avantaj au cu siguranta ziarele romanesti. Se citesc repede. Ori stapanesc eu bine limba romana, ori continutul lor este...subtire.
Tomorow's pilots
Palestinian kids from Gaza Strip watching the sky where deadly Israeli planes fly over them .If you look carefuly at their faces you see no fear, just interest for those "wonderful flying machines".
Kids are the same all over the world. Women and kids should negotiate peace treaties...
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Dead Sea is dying
In prea putinele sambete cand sunt acasa la Ierusalim, ma sui inmasina si in cca. 10 minute clima si peisajul se schimba, am plecatspre soare rasare, spre Marea Moarta. Cobor rapid serpentinele, dela cca 800 de metrii deasupra nivelului marii ajung in 20 de minutela borna care marcheaza nivelul 0, adica nivelul marilor si oceanelor(si unde un beduin cu o camila asteapta turisti pentru o poza de pusin rama). Dupa inca 15 minute sunt deja pe malul marii, pe drumulcare duce pana la Eilat si mai departe pana la Sharm El Sheih. Darma opresc pe lplaja numita "Mineral" unde un bazin cu izvoare desulf fac minune pentru piciorul meu cotonogit. Peisajul esteuluitor, lunatic, undeva exista umbra lui Lot, Sodoma (plina deHoteluri) si Gomora, unde o fi ea.Nivelul Marii Moarte scade in fiecare an. Odata alimentata de apeleIordanului, astazi nu mai primeste cantitatea de apa necesaramentinerii nivelului, si incet incet piere. Trist.Pun pentru informatii interesante un material aparut astazi in Ha-Aretz. Sunt pana la urma optimist, dezastrul va fi oprit.:
No quick fixes for the Dead Sea
By Zafrir Rinat (Ha Aretz)
"The desert and the barren hills gleam painfully in the sun, aroundthe Dead Sea, and there is no pleasant thing or living creature uponit or about its borders to cheer the eye. It is a scorching, arid,repulsive solitude. A silence broods over the scene that isdepressing to the spirits. It makes one think of funerals anddeath."This was Mark Twain's impression of the Dead Sea's environs. Twain,who actually enjoyed bathing in the sea itself, would probably besurprised by the abundance of activity at the place that so deeplydepressed him. Nowadays factories, hotels and communities stretchalong the sea's shores.However, their fate - and that of regional plans - are unclear atthe moment. A report in circulation says the region must bedeveloped completely differently than is currently planned. Thereason: Unlike as in Twain's days, dropping water levels are causingthe Dead Sea to disappear gradually, and the surrounding area isbeing destroyed as a result.This report, "The Dead Sea Basin Policy Paper," was commissioned bythe government and prepared by the Ministry of Environment, theGeological Institute, the Jerusalem Institute for Israel Studies'Center for Environmental Policy, and environmental planner MotiKaplan. Attached to it is a letter from the Environment Ministrydirector general, Dr. Miki Haran, which contains the report's mainmessage: The Dead Sea's problems will not disappear in the next 30or 40 years, if not longer, and this must be taken into account inregional development plans.No immediate solutionGeologists and water experts have thorougly researched the problemsstemming from the dropping water level, and the report describesthem at length. The water has been declining by about a meter peryear due to the diversion of the Jordan River and its tributaries,which used to flow into the Dead Sea, and the use of the Dead Sea'swater by factories in Israel and Jordan. (The latter is responsiblefor approximately 40 percent of the annual decline.)The most serious side effect of the receding sea is the suddencreation of large sinkholes. In the northern Dead Sea, close to 200sinkholes appear each year, and they have already caused seriousinfrastructure damage and shut down various tourist facilities.Another serious problem is the changes underway in nearby rivers,which are fed primarily by floodwater. In the past, these riversflowed directly into the Dead Sea. But the receding shoreline haschanged the paths of the rivers, which now threaten buildingfoundations and the main highway in the region. Around Nahal David,a major tourist attraction in the area, the river is expected tocause the road to collapse within 25 years.The geologists Dr. Amir Eidelman and Dr. Amos Bein, who were keycollaborators in preparing the policy paper, say these problems willnot disappear quickly, even if the state promptly finds ways tostabilize the water level. One possible solution involves divertingwater from Lake Kinneret back to the Jordan River, and from there tothe Dead Sea. Another option is channeling a large quantity of waterfrom the Gulf of Eilat via Jordanian territory."Channeling water through the Jordan River in the quantities underdiscussion could only slow the process of declining water levels,"says Dr. Bein. "You have to take into account that the influx offresh water would create layers in the sea. The fresh water would beon top, and it would evaporate faster."Bein believes bringing water from Eilat would be more effective, buthe notes that the feasibility studies for such a project could takeclose to 20 years, during which time the water level would continuedropping - and then it would take another 20 years before theproject could restore the sea to its current level, which in and ofitself is problematically low."It is hard for people to understand that there is no immediatesolution to the Dead Sea's problem," says document author GalitCohen, of the Environment Ministry."It has to be clear, no matter what we do, that we will be livingwith this situation for another 20 years," adds Dr. Eidelman.Shuttles to the shoreSo much for the pessimistic part. But the authors of the policypaper say it contains an optimistic message as well. Development ofthe Dead Sea region can be planned in such a way to enablesettlement and tourism even as the water level continues dropping.In maps accompanying the policy paper, the authors illustrate howfar the sea is expected to recede, and where sinkholes are expectedto form as a result. They recommend against building in these areas,near Ein Gedi, Avnat and Mitzpeh Shalem - where several largetourism-related projects, including hotels, baths and beachdevelopment, are in the works. Instead, the report proposesdeveloping to the west of the road running along the Dead Sea. "Ifthey continue to build hotels close to the sea, they will find thearea gradually disappearing and filling with pits," says Bein. "Thisis not how to establish a hotel adjacent to the sea. We suggestmoving to safe ground and having shuttles bring people to bathe."The paper's authors say that in order to promote this approach, amaster plan should be created that defines precisely the areasdesignated for development and the building restrictions. They arenow working on a proposal to be submitted to the government, whichwill delegate future management of the area to various ministries.For example, the paper suggests that the interior and tourismministries survey existing tourist facilities in threatened areasand decide what steps should be taken, including issuing warnings tothe public."We believe it is possible to manage the area properly, and if thereis peace, it can be a regional process," says Eidelman.The process of preparing the Dead Sea policy paper raised the hopesof officials at the Tamar Regional Council, which is responsible forsome of the shoreline communities. They had hoped to receiveguidelines on how to proceed with planned development for the area,and they were sorely disappointed."We think that the policy paper describes the current situationthoroughly and in depth," says the head of the regional council, DovLitwinoff. "However, the significance of the recommendations is thatthe only thing left to do is get compensation and leave, becausethere is no possibility of developing the region. Whoever wrote thedocument understands a lot about geology, but not about tourism.Tourism in the region is based entirely on the sea. They suggest weconcentrate all development in areas far away from it, which areactually located inside nature reserves. Who will let us buildhotels in nature reserves?"The document's authors respond that they marked areas where futurebuilding is indeed possible.Litwinoff and the regional council engineer, Avi Rotem, say tourismdevelopment can be promoted even in areas where there may be pits,by, among other ways, pumping groundwater out of the areas fromwhere the sea has receded. The sweet water dissolves undergroundchunks of salt, forming sinkholes."Other places in the world have sinkholes, and people haven'tabandoned them," says Rotem."You don't need to develop in an area where there already are pitsso long as there are engineering solutions," says Litwinoff. "But incertain areas that the paper's authors feel should not be developed,we can drill to check for salt chunks and assess the risk ofsinkholes.""A multidisciplinary engineering team was recently working in thearea, and it was supposed to set planning guidelines for the DeadSea, including determining what can and cannot be built," saysRotem. "For some reason, they decided the regional council shouldfinance such a national project, which would cost NIS 15 million. Wedon't have the budget for that, and as a result the team'soperations were halted.""If there are funds, then there will be solutions, such as buildingdesalination plants, which would enable the transfer of water fromLake Kinneret to the Dead Sea," adds Litwinoff. "This would notreverse the situation, but would moderate the drop in the waterlevel."
No quick fixes for the Dead Sea
By Zafrir Rinat (Ha Aretz)
"The desert and the barren hills gleam painfully in the sun, aroundthe Dead Sea, and there is no pleasant thing or living creature uponit or about its borders to cheer the eye. It is a scorching, arid,repulsive solitude. A silence broods over the scene that isdepressing to the spirits. It makes one think of funerals anddeath."This was Mark Twain's impression of the Dead Sea's environs. Twain,who actually enjoyed bathing in the sea itself, would probably besurprised by the abundance of activity at the place that so deeplydepressed him. Nowadays factories, hotels and communities stretchalong the sea's shores.However, their fate - and that of regional plans - are unclear atthe moment. A report in circulation says the region must bedeveloped completely differently than is currently planned. Thereason: Unlike as in Twain's days, dropping water levels are causingthe Dead Sea to disappear gradually, and the surrounding area isbeing destroyed as a result.This report, "The Dead Sea Basin Policy Paper," was commissioned bythe government and prepared by the Ministry of Environment, theGeological Institute, the Jerusalem Institute for Israel Studies'Center for Environmental Policy, and environmental planner MotiKaplan. Attached to it is a letter from the Environment Ministrydirector general, Dr. Miki Haran, which contains the report's mainmessage: The Dead Sea's problems will not disappear in the next 30or 40 years, if not longer, and this must be taken into account inregional development plans.No immediate solutionGeologists and water experts have thorougly researched the problemsstemming from the dropping water level, and the report describesthem at length. The water has been declining by about a meter peryear due to the diversion of the Jordan River and its tributaries,which used to flow into the Dead Sea, and the use of the Dead Sea'swater by factories in Israel and Jordan. (The latter is responsiblefor approximately 40 percent of the annual decline.)The most serious side effect of the receding sea is the suddencreation of large sinkholes. In the northern Dead Sea, close to 200sinkholes appear each year, and they have already caused seriousinfrastructure damage and shut down various tourist facilities.Another serious problem is the changes underway in nearby rivers,which are fed primarily by floodwater. In the past, these riversflowed directly into the Dead Sea. But the receding shoreline haschanged the paths of the rivers, which now threaten buildingfoundations and the main highway in the region. Around Nahal David,a major tourist attraction in the area, the river is expected tocause the road to collapse within 25 years.The geologists Dr. Amir Eidelman and Dr. Amos Bein, who were keycollaborators in preparing the policy paper, say these problems willnot disappear quickly, even if the state promptly finds ways tostabilize the water level. One possible solution involves divertingwater from Lake Kinneret back to the Jordan River, and from there tothe Dead Sea. Another option is channeling a large quantity of waterfrom the Gulf of Eilat via Jordanian territory."Channeling water through the Jordan River in the quantities underdiscussion could only slow the process of declining water levels,"says Dr. Bein. "You have to take into account that the influx offresh water would create layers in the sea. The fresh water would beon top, and it would evaporate faster."Bein believes bringing water from Eilat would be more effective, buthe notes that the feasibility studies for such a project could takeclose to 20 years, during which time the water level would continuedropping - and then it would take another 20 years before theproject could restore the sea to its current level, which in and ofitself is problematically low."It is hard for people to understand that there is no immediatesolution to the Dead Sea's problem," says document author GalitCohen, of the Environment Ministry."It has to be clear, no matter what we do, that we will be livingwith this situation for another 20 years," adds Dr. Eidelman.Shuttles to the shoreSo much for the pessimistic part. But the authors of the policypaper say it contains an optimistic message as well. Development ofthe Dead Sea region can be planned in such a way to enablesettlement and tourism even as the water level continues dropping.In maps accompanying the policy paper, the authors illustrate howfar the sea is expected to recede, and where sinkholes are expectedto form as a result. They recommend against building in these areas,near Ein Gedi, Avnat and Mitzpeh Shalem - where several largetourism-related projects, including hotels, baths and beachdevelopment, are in the works. Instead, the report proposesdeveloping to the west of the road running along the Dead Sea. "Ifthey continue to build hotels close to the sea, they will find thearea gradually disappearing and filling with pits," says Bein. "Thisis not how to establish a hotel adjacent to the sea. We suggestmoving to safe ground and having shuttles bring people to bathe."The paper's authors say that in order to promote this approach, amaster plan should be created that defines precisely the areasdesignated for development and the building restrictions. They arenow working on a proposal to be submitted to the government, whichwill delegate future management of the area to various ministries.For example, the paper suggests that the interior and tourismministries survey existing tourist facilities in threatened areasand decide what steps should be taken, including issuing warnings tothe public."We believe it is possible to manage the area properly, and if thereis peace, it can be a regional process," says Eidelman.The process of preparing the Dead Sea policy paper raised the hopesof officials at the Tamar Regional Council, which is responsible forsome of the shoreline communities. They had hoped to receiveguidelines on how to proceed with planned development for the area,and they were sorely disappointed."We think that the policy paper describes the current situationthoroughly and in depth," says the head of the regional council, DovLitwinoff. "However, the significance of the recommendations is thatthe only thing left to do is get compensation and leave, becausethere is no possibility of developing the region. Whoever wrote thedocument understands a lot about geology, but not about tourism.Tourism in the region is based entirely on the sea. They suggest weconcentrate all development in areas far away from it, which areactually located inside nature reserves. Who will let us buildhotels in nature reserves?"The document's authors respond that they marked areas where futurebuilding is indeed possible.Litwinoff and the regional council engineer, Avi Rotem, say tourismdevelopment can be promoted even in areas where there may be pits,by, among other ways, pumping groundwater out of the areas fromwhere the sea has receded. The sweet water dissolves undergroundchunks of salt, forming sinkholes."Other places in the world have sinkholes, and people haven'tabandoned them," says Rotem."You don't need to develop in an area where there already are pitsso long as there are engineering solutions," says Litwinoff. "But incertain areas that the paper's authors feel should not be developed,we can drill to check for salt chunks and assess the risk ofsinkholes.""A multidisciplinary engineering team was recently working in thearea, and it was supposed to set planning guidelines for the DeadSea, including determining what can and cannot be built," saysRotem. "For some reason, they decided the regional council shouldfinance such a national project, which would cost NIS 15 million. Wedon't have the budget for that, and as a result the team'soperations were halted.""If there are funds, then there will be solutions, such as buildingdesalination plants, which would enable the transfer of water fromLake Kinneret to the Dead Sea," adds Litwinoff. "This would notreverse the situation, but would moderate the drop in the waterlevel."
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Pedeapsa lui Ahmadinejad. Arhivele naziste si arhivele securitatii...
Arhivele naziste si arhivele securitatii.
Dupa lupte seculare care au durat aproape 60 de ani, guvernul german a hotarat sa deschida arhivele naziste. Aceste arhive contin milioane de dosare, explica pentru cine e curios mecanismul Holocaustului si bineinteles satisfac cerintele ultimilor supravietuitori.
Decizia guvernului german va fi parafata in luna Iulie. Amanunte pot fi citite la :
http://tinyurl.com/qct77
In orice caz este de presupus ca primul ministru Iranian nu va consulta aceste dosare, nu esantioane si nu dosare alese.
Personal, daca as pune mana pe el, l-as inchide intr-o cusca de sticla, I-as da in fiecare zi un dosar sa-l invete, si daca stie lectia a doua zi, primeste o bucata de paine si un pahar cu apa. 365 de dosare pe an, 7300 pentru 20 de ani. I-as da drumul dupa ani sa lucreze liber “shoe shine boy.”Cat despre arhivele securitatii, inteleg ca accesul la ele pare a fi liber. Nu stiu insa daca dosarele securitatii au fost pastrate lustruite si in ordine, asa cum presupun ca au fost pastrate de iubitul popor german. Pentru ordine ii iubim noi pe ei. Iar ei pe noi...mai putin.
Blogs -----Terrible story (Ha-Aretz)
Blog of a death foretold
By Oded Yaron
The suicide of Meirav Kanner, known online as Rapunzel, continues to resound through the Israeli blogosphere. Following her death on June 17, there have been calls to define the limits of online discourse in order to minimize harm to the people behind the blogs. Kanner, who wrote that she had emotional problems as a result of physical abuse suffered as a child, revealed her plight for the first time in 2004 in posts accusing her father of the abuse. She was interviewed by various mass media outlets and began a blog, in which she told her story through her political struggle as a feminist and an emotionally troubled woman. Over the past two years she received warm and sympathetic responses ? as well as hurtful and disparaging ones. Kanner herself did not respond only to the gentler comments, and often conducted stinging verbal fights with surfers. In the last few weeks of her life, Kanner's emotional state apparently deteriorated, and she hurled harsh accusations at various people, even mentioning their names on her blog. Yariv Habot, the founder and operator of Israelblog, felt compelled to remove her blog from the Internet to avoid the risk of a lawsuit. .
Kanner responded by launching an independent blog with the help of Internet columnist and blogger Hanan Cohen. Kanner declared a hunger strike and continued her verbal assault. After her death, and at her request, Cohen deleted her blog and had it removed from Google's archives. A few days later, however, Kanner's partner restored her blog's archives to the Internet . The suicide sparked a flood of reactions, discussions and personal accountings in the blogosphere, starting with people who eulogized Kanner with great sadness and ending with others incapable of forgiving the woman who had hurt so many of them. The most burning question among many of the writers, however, was, "Could we have prevented such a bitter ending?" Leora Arnon, director of Sahar, an Internet-based emotional support service for people with suicidal tendencies and psychologist Yael Doron, manager of support for the Yelem Web site, are uncertain whether anyone could have helped in this specific case. Still, they are convinced that in similar cases help could make a difference. In the five years since Sahar's founding, Arnon says the organization's volunteers have called the police in more than a dozen cases, and the officers arrived in time to find the would-be victim after he or she had already swallowed pills. "Suicide notes are posted on the Internet almost daily," says Arnon, but not every such letter ends in suicide. Still, she says, assistance should be offered before the situation becomes critical, so most of Sahar's efforts are invested in listening and offering support and advice. No answerThe death of Kanner, and the hostility that surrounded her blog, sparked a serious discussion of the blogosphere's debate culture. Kanner's case may have been extreme, but it was not unique. The verbal assaults and vitriol often found online have prompted at least some people to withdraw from the arena. Just last week one young blogger, who runs a popular Web diary, announced he was ending his blog. "You knew this would happen. You knew it. You cursed me and made me feel miserable. There is no point in continuing. I have no reason to," he writes. ?(He later relented in response to encouragement from fans?). One woman who works in the communications field and is a former blogger says she stopped blogging because she felt the online interaction was hurting her. Still, she says that from the outset she felt that she, like many others, had become addicted to this medium. "This possibility of receiving immediate feedback on anything that happens is addictive," concurs Habot. That feedback, explains the former blogger, can lead to extremism. "You say something and no one responds, so you say it again, stronger," she says. "Suddenly, I realized that everyone wants to express himself and practically no one wants to listen. The blogosphere is a radical version of the real world, and it is a terribly violent and unsafe environment." She, like others, believes this dynamic contributed to Kanner's suicide. Doron, of Yelem, disagrees, contending that the Web is nothing more than a reflection of society, and that our society today is very intense and instantaneous. The heated debate over the influence of the Internet is a new extension of the never-ending debate on television ? does it reflect society's violence, or does it create it? Doron cites an article by Sahar's founder, Prof. Azy Barak , in which he explains that the Internet contains addiction, alienation, isolation and violence, but also supportive shoulders, help and a lot of good will. Culture researcher Carmel Weissman, who is writing her doctoral thesis on blogs, explains that many bloggers do not feel they are publicizing their works and thoughts: They perceive the medium as their personal space. They consider it speaking with friends. These two contradictory spheres ? the private and the public ? coexist in blogs, and the mixture is very confusing. As noted above, lately there have been calls for the establishment of a convention regulating relationships in the blogosphere . Some prominent voices among them are Uri Katzir, a blogger and spokesman for the Israel Securities Authority; Jonathan Klinger, a lawyer and active Internet contributor; and Sarit Frankel, a journalist . Frankel even foretells of the blogosphere's demise if the violence is not curtailed. "There must be some commitment to ground rules, a certain 'gentlemanliness,'" says Katzir. "For example, not humiliating someone publicly online, certainly not before he has been found guilty of wrongdoing. Not that someone who violates the rules would be ostracized, but one could hope for a place in which you accept certain rules of behavior."
By Oded Yaron
The suicide of Meirav Kanner, known online as Rapunzel, continues to resound through the Israeli blogosphere. Following her death on June 17, there have been calls to define the limits of online discourse in order to minimize harm to the people behind the blogs. Kanner, who wrote that she had emotional problems as a result of physical abuse suffered as a child, revealed her plight for the first time in 2004 in posts accusing her father of the abuse. She was interviewed by various mass media outlets and began a blog, in which she told her story through her political struggle as a feminist and an emotionally troubled woman. Over the past two years she received warm and sympathetic responses ? as well as hurtful and disparaging ones. Kanner herself did not respond only to the gentler comments, and often conducted stinging verbal fights with surfers. In the last few weeks of her life, Kanner's emotional state apparently deteriorated, and she hurled harsh accusations at various people, even mentioning their names on her blog. Yariv Habot, the founder and operator of Israelblog, felt compelled to remove her blog from the Internet to avoid the risk of a lawsuit. .
Kanner responded by launching an independent blog with the help of Internet columnist and blogger Hanan Cohen. Kanner declared a hunger strike and continued her verbal assault. After her death, and at her request, Cohen deleted her blog and had it removed from Google's archives. A few days later, however, Kanner's partner restored her blog's archives to the Internet . The suicide sparked a flood of reactions, discussions and personal accountings in the blogosphere, starting with people who eulogized Kanner with great sadness and ending with others incapable of forgiving the woman who had hurt so many of them. The most burning question among many of the writers, however, was, "Could we have prevented such a bitter ending?" Leora Arnon, director of Sahar, an Internet-based emotional support service for people with suicidal tendencies and psychologist Yael Doron, manager of support for the Yelem Web site, are uncertain whether anyone could have helped in this specific case. Still, they are convinced that in similar cases help could make a difference. In the five years since Sahar's founding, Arnon says the organization's volunteers have called the police in more than a dozen cases, and the officers arrived in time to find the would-be victim after he or she had already swallowed pills. "Suicide notes are posted on the Internet almost daily," says Arnon, but not every such letter ends in suicide. Still, she says, assistance should be offered before the situation becomes critical, so most of Sahar's efforts are invested in listening and offering support and advice. No answerThe death of Kanner, and the hostility that surrounded her blog, sparked a serious discussion of the blogosphere's debate culture. Kanner's case may have been extreme, but it was not unique. The verbal assaults and vitriol often found online have prompted at least some people to withdraw from the arena. Just last week one young blogger, who runs a popular Web diary, announced he was ending his blog. "You knew this would happen. You knew it. You cursed me and made me feel miserable. There is no point in continuing. I have no reason to," he writes. ?(He later relented in response to encouragement from fans?). One woman who works in the communications field and is a former blogger says she stopped blogging because she felt the online interaction was hurting her. Still, she says that from the outset she felt that she, like many others, had become addicted to this medium. "This possibility of receiving immediate feedback on anything that happens is addictive," concurs Habot. That feedback, explains the former blogger, can lead to extremism. "You say something and no one responds, so you say it again, stronger," she says. "Suddenly, I realized that everyone wants to express himself and practically no one wants to listen. The blogosphere is a radical version of the real world, and it is a terribly violent and unsafe environment." She, like others, believes this dynamic contributed to Kanner's suicide. Doron, of Yelem, disagrees, contending that the Web is nothing more than a reflection of society, and that our society today is very intense and instantaneous. The heated debate over the influence of the Internet is a new extension of the never-ending debate on television ? does it reflect society's violence, or does it create it? Doron cites an article by Sahar's founder, Prof. Azy Barak , in which he explains that the Internet contains addiction, alienation, isolation and violence, but also supportive shoulders, help and a lot of good will. Culture researcher Carmel Weissman, who is writing her doctoral thesis on blogs, explains that many bloggers do not feel they are publicizing their works and thoughts: They perceive the medium as their personal space. They consider it speaking with friends. These two contradictory spheres ? the private and the public ? coexist in blogs, and the mixture is very confusing. As noted above, lately there have been calls for the establishment of a convention regulating relationships in the blogosphere . Some prominent voices among them are Uri Katzir, a blogger and spokesman for the Israel Securities Authority; Jonathan Klinger, a lawyer and active Internet contributor; and Sarit Frankel, a journalist . Frankel even foretells of the blogosphere's demise if the violence is not curtailed. "There must be some commitment to ground rules, a certain 'gentlemanliness,'" says Katzir. "For example, not humiliating someone publicly online, certainly not before he has been found guilty of wrongdoing. Not that someone who violates the rules would be ostracized, but one could hope for a place in which you accept certain rules of behavior."
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