I have spent almost two months in Italy - two months in the land of astounding food, magnificent architecture and gorgeous Italian men. I have walked for hours in endless Roman neighbourhoods, enjoyed many a morning cappuccino in my local piazza and overindulged on the ravioli and biscotti front.
I have strolled Via Margutta, where Audrey Hepburn rode on a vespa in ‘Roman Holiday’, I have wandered in markets, listened to the Pope give his weekly address in St. Peter’s Square and explored part of the Appian Way. I’ve stared at the interiors of more churches than I can count, photographed endless fountains in quiet squares and stumbled on tiny courtyards, set far back from the tourist trail.
I have pondered, strolled, rested, read and slept a great deal. It shows. After the wretchedness of the last months, and the loss of my father, I feel almost restored.
Now I am returning home but, for the first time in fifteen years, I am extraordinarily trepidatious. When I left Israel, at the beginning of December 2022, I had no idea that I would be returning to a country in crisis. Now I understand - all too well.
The government/coalition of my land, led by Binyamin Netanyahu (‘Bibi’) is trying to railroad through legislation that has his opponents up in arms. An ‘override clause’ which would allow for a bare majority (of just one vote i.e. 61 out of 120 in the Israeli Parliament) to overturn rulings by Bagatz, Israel’s Supreme Court.
There’s no written constitution in Israel (much like the UK and New Zealand) but in Israel the separation of powers between the legislature and executive branches is really very weak, since the government of the day usually has a majority.
Consequently, the Supreme Court is the only institution in Israel with sufficient power to keep such government in check, and overrule/strike down legislation passed with the smallest of Parliamentary majorities.
As things stand down, the Supreme Court of Israel can override any law that contradicts one of Israel’s Basic Laws (that relate to dignity and liberty and are the cornerstone of Israel’s current liberal democracy). These kinds of laws deal with the rights of women, minorities (e.g. Arab Israelis or the LGBTQ community) not to mention freedom of the press, the right to protest, etc.
If this legislation is passed, it means that the government can override any decision the Supreme Court makes…with a simple majority (that is a majority of one vote). What it might open the door to does not bear thinking about - only at least half of the population is thinking about it. Constantly now.
At the very least, it means a concentration of power in the hands of any ruling party. At its worst, it means an end to Judicial Review. In effect, the government will shackle the courts.
They might then be free to pass laws that we could only conceive of when reading dystopian novels - laws that punish women for ‘immodest clothing’, outlaw gay marriage, introduce the death penality for ‘terrorists’ (not Jewish terrorists by the way, only Arab ones!), close down newspapers that speak out against such laws and even delay/cancel elections.
The response has been swift. Demonstrations are being organised, social media is full of memes, journalists writing for newspapers not in the pocket of Bibi are up in arms.
Unbelievably, the coalition aim to ‘blitz’ this legislation through in around three months, with no consultation, no reflection, no discussion.
I have watched this from a distance, with increasing concern and dismay. It feels far away and yet it’s not - I’m just a three hour plane ride from home and as the day’s tick by to my departure, I feel consternation, which quickly turns to extreme anxiety. T
he morning of my flight, it is all I can do to head to the airport only, en route, I have a strong urge to turn around and return to Trastevere.
At Fiumicino, I stare vacantly at a stunning installation of a whale and, once more, am overcome with the urge to walk away from the departure gate.
This has never happened to me before - I’ve always been happy to return to Israel after an absence of longer than a few weeks. Aboard the flight, I find myself unable to concentrate on my book. I spend most of my time in the air lost in thought.
My flight lands and from disembarking to passport control and luggage collection I’m out of Ben Gurion in 30 minutes. It’s 8pm and mild; I think to myself “in Rome it would be freezing.” My friend who’s coming to pick me up is caught in traffic so I stand outside the terminal, people watching, until I spot his car pull up.
“Welcome home,” he smiles. And I smile back, because - indeed - this is my home and I love it.
But the political situation to which I have returned? This is something else.