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Guy YedwabVictoria Anderson11/16/06Milk, Honey, and ShitI am an Israeli-American. Whether I have wanted to or not, I have been linked to a two nationswith short and highly controversial histories. My Israeli heritage, which I hold very near to my heart,has been very problematic for me, of late. The last time we were in the news was this summer, whenmy proud nation decided to unilaterally invade the Gaza Strip and Lebanon. Images filled the media of Israeli rockets pounding Beirut apart, blasting bridges and apartment buildings and human lives into theground.What does it mean to be a patriot in times like these?I've often heard that patriotism is love for your country. Love is a word that could refer to manycomplicated relationships; patriotism could mean anything. Somewhere in the idea of patriotism hasalways lurked the idea that your country could be an example to the world, such as John Winthrop'sdescription of Boston in 1630 as “a city on the hill, [with] all the eyes of the people on us.” So can youstill feel patriotic love for a country whose acts have horrified you?Beirut was a beautiful city once. Once upon a time she was dubbed the “Paris of the MiddleEast.” Nowadays, she looks more like Paris under the Third Reich. Even worse, she looks like Londonafter the Battle of Britain. Who would know that only a year ago, everyone was talking about the brightnew future ahead of Lebanon? After the assassination of a head Lebanese official by Syria and thewithdrawal of Syrian troops, it looked as though Lebanon was going to see the first few moments if independence, the first few moments of democratic self-determination. Like every moment of optimism, the euphoria of last year's democratic flowering was followed by a dark spell as thosedreams were blasted to hell by efficient air strikes.As an Israeli citizen, I find it difficult to stomach my own country's actions. My Americandistance from the events places them in a very unpleasant context.
 
The Middle East is, ironically, supposed to be the home of all the utopias of the Judeo-Christiansocieties. Slightly over half of the world believes in one of the 'religions of the Book' (Judaism,Christianity, Islam); each of them believes that something euphoric is fated to happen in the Kingdomof Jerusalem. All three religions look back to a Garden of Eden which was the height of worldly utopia,and which allegedly was in the Middle East. Unfortunately, the Middle East is one of the world's mostcontentious hot-spots of warfare and religious strife. The western-style democracy installed by theJewish people had promised an alternative; that with democracy, the Israeli people could show byexample a utopian ideal of cooperation in a very land torn apart by radicalism. Can I ignore theradicalism which has subverted the original dream of utopia and still love what is left of that utopia inmy country, or is that love beyond me?In “Late Victorians”, Richard Rodriguez says that he has “never looked for utopia on a map.”(Rodriguez 313). He is not referring to a religious utopia like Jerusalem or Mecca; rather, he isreferring to the utopia of American liberalism. He depicts the “lonely teenagers [who] still arrive in SanFrancisco aboard Greyhound buses.” (Rodriguez 312). He depicts the migration of hispanics whomigrated “to California from Mexico” (Rodriguez 313). Especially, he depicts the arrival of homosexuals to the Castro District. He says it “was the revolutionary place.” (Rodriguez 317). Thedisaffected liberal movements flocked to San Francisco in the 1960s and 1970s, looking to remake thecity of San Francisco in their image. As he puts it, “San Francisco has entertained an idea of itself asheaven on earth, whether as Cold Town or City Beautiful or Treasure Island or Haight-Ashbury.”(Rodriguez 313). It is the Haight-Ashbury phase of 'heaven-on-earth' which fills the '60s and '70s, withhippies, youth movements, and the gay rights movement.While this, to Rodriguez, represents “the mythic American path toward optimism,” (Rodriguez312), he parallels the dreams of the masses with the terrible reactions which shatter its perfection.Starting from his description of a woman committing suicide from the Golden Gate Bridge, Rodriguez brings in dystopian counters to the utopia that people see San Francisco to be. After discussing the power of interior design to transform nature, using his painter as an example, he suddenly draws the
 
relationship between gays and nature into a sharp twist; the very painter who he has described as'changing nature' disappears. “Someone told...[Rodriguez] that he has AIDS” (Rodriguez 316). Evenwhere gays seem to revel in their transformation of nature, in a city where that transformation becomes“the highest form of art” (Rodriguez 316), they are still easily destroyed by that nature. The utopianhaven of Castro is cast into doubt when Rodriguez references the “ultimate gay basher” (Rodriguez317), a City Supervisor who goes on a rampage and revolted against “the Castro revolution”(Rodriguez 317). Even his closest friend, César, who Rodriguez seems to look up to—and who hopesto add San Francisco “to the gates of Jerusalem” (Rodriguez 313) –“experienced agony” (Rodriguez321) before he too died of AIDS.But in the end, Rodriguez does not reject San Francisco. He does not reject San Francisco likethe gay men in “Pacific Heights or in the Richmond, [who] often spoke with derision of 'Castro Streetclones'” (Rodriguez 317). He contrasts his own pessimism with that of the youthful optimism whichstill sees San Francisco as a utopia, but says “I do not believe that an old man's pessimism is truer thana young man's optimism simply because it comes after.” (Rodriguez 312). In the end, he says of the stilloptimistic San Franciscans that they have “learned to love what is corruptible.” (Rodriguez 323).Somehow, they still manage to find some redeeming qualities in the city which seems so filled withdeath and agony. The city is not perfect to them; even in San Francisco, which would pride itself on itstolerance, lurks the face of the homophobic city supervisor. Still, they have love for the city—a sort of  patriotic pride that keeps them fighting for their utopian dream even when it is confronted by thesorrowful dark side that it must have. Is this what patriotism is, to love the city for what it could beeven as they must see what it is?This must be my sort of patriotism, because in spite of everything I know about both Israel andAmerica—whether it is Abu Ghirab or bulldozing in Gaza—has not turned me away from the countrieswhich gave me my roots.Rodriguez's San Francisco is not the only utopian dream fraught by cruel reality. Very recently, Ihad the distinct pleasure of touring the United Nations Headquarters on the East River. Having seen, in
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