The Israeli Smirk

Kibukim

Years ago I was in the Mahane Yehuda Market in Jerusalem. I asked a vendor in Hebrew for a few kibukim – those Israeli peanut snacks with the crunchy and sweet sesame coating. My favourite.

But I said to him in Hebrew, “efshar kama chibukim?” I inadvertently asked for chibukim, not kibukim.

Hugs.

I asked the big-hairy-Israeli-street-vendor-in-a-stained-white-undershirt for a few hugs, not peanuts.

He looked up at me, walked out from around the counter, threw his arms around me, and lifted me off my feet. He put me down, went back around to his side of the counter, with the side of his lip raised in an Israeli smirk. Mischievous. Hilarious. “There is your chibuk. Now, do you want something to eat?” I haven’t stopped laughing about it since.

But it was the Israeli smirk.

Trouble is coming. Or amused judgment.

We’ve all seen it. When we ask someone in Jerusalem’s Cardo, with our Canadian-Jewish-day-school-Hebrew how to get to the bathroom, or when we ask for a falafel-with-chips. It is a smirk that says “Oh, honey, you’re cute. It’s nice that you’re trying.” It’s that sort of signature half-smile, half-eye-roll combination. It’s the facial-expression equivalent of “Nu, seriously?”

It’s the look you’re bound to see on an Israeli when the flight attendant says, “Please remain seated until the plane comes to a complete stop.” Smirk, then unbuckle. When a non-Israeli tells an Israeli, “I know exactly what’s going to happen in Israeli politics next.” Smirk, then immediately disregard anything you’re about to say next, while I enjoy this delicious bowl of hummus. When someone in Canada complains to an Israeli about bad traffic in Toronto. Smirk, then immediately recall the time they cut off a woman on a scooter on Frishman Ave while narrowly avoiding hitting a taxi before plowing into a man pushing a cart of watermelons through Dizengoff Square.

It’s the smirk you get if you ask an Israeli for ketchup with your falafel. Smirk plus, well, whatever hand-gesture means get the hell outta my restaurant. Or the look you get when you try to explain to someone in Israel how you think the Arab Israeli war will end. Smirk plus snarky comment, “Oh interesting! We’ve never thought about it like that! You should tell my friend Shuki, he works in the Knesset cafeteria!”

It’s a totally different creature than an Israeli smile. An Israeli smile is beaming and contagious. It is the utter elation we see when any Israeli parent is playing with their child, or seeing them enlist in the army, or when they launch a moon-lander, or see a hostage returned. That’s an Israeli smile. An Israeli smile is pure elation, and it is the result of decades of cutting through bullshit and recognizing that Israelis can make the goodness they deserve all on their own.

But that’s not an Israeli smirk.

This is an Israeli smirk:

Gadi Moses (via X.com)

Gadi Moses is almost 81 years old. Today he was released from 482 days of Hamas captivity. This morning, he was paraded through a sea of monsters. Monsters. Terrorists. People who love death, and care nothing for life. Who could easily point that machine gun at his back, or plunge a dagger into his side, and end it all.

And yet, look at that face.

That is an Israeli smirk.

It says, “You think you’re scaring me? Please. I’m an Israeli kibbutznik.”

It says, “I’m an 81-year old Jew. I was born in 1944. Do you know what was happening to our people the year I was born? Do you know what I have seen with my eyes during my lifetime? Do you know how many times I have seen your brothers and cousins try to invade, try to destroy us, and lose? Do you know what I represent, as a link between the Jewish past, present, and future? Do you know what we have been through? Do you think that Jewish history will somehow end at your hands? You savages? Who play dress up and try to fight against the might of the Israeli army? The resilience of the Israeli people? The innovation of the Israeli mind? It’s cute, but we will be just fine. You have tried to starve me to death. To keep me in your dungeons. To torture me. To parade me as a prize through your streets. You killed my family. But unlike you, my government cares about the well-being of its people. My people care about life. Now get out of my face. I have to get home.”