[Photos] I was in Israel in 1984: Where rifle and bible are one

(All photos courtesy of Hsu Chung-mao except otherwise stated.)

In my early years as a journalist, Israel — then considered a “war zone” — was one of the places I wanted to report on. In mid-1984, I applied to my newspaper for permission to cover war zones. Two rejections later, my editor finally agreed after my third request. 

There were two destinations on my list: Israel and Nicaragua. The latter was one of the major focal points of international news at the time. Following the Cuban Revolution, the leftist Sandinistas had seized power through armed revolution. Although they became an enemy of the US, their success boosted the morale of left-wing forces worldwide, who saw it as another major victory for the anti-capitalist camp in America’s own backyard.

Meanwhile, Israel appeared relatively quiet, but was in fact in a kind of chronic condition of long-term war. As the issue of the West Bank remained unresolved, sporadic violent clashes persisted. One could never be certain when these ripples might gather into a tsunami — and even thereafter, calm would not necessarily follow. It felt like a war that could never truly be quelled.

I vividly remember applying for my Israeli visa in Singapore. The application counter window was boarded up; documents could only be submitted through a slot at the bottom, while talking through an intercom. It felt somewhat mysterious but was otherwise hassle-free.

After a long flight, I arrived in Tel Aviv. With no local friends or contacts, I became like a typical backpacker, looking for accommodation as soon as I landed, and only then deciding what to do next. The immigration officer bombarded me with questions for quite some time — where I came from, my purpose for visiting and more. Later, I learned that this was standard procedure for every incoming traveller.

After leaving the airport, I travelled like a backpacker, catching a bus toward central Tel Aviv. I got off in a busy district and searched for an affordable hotel, luggage in tow. Once settled, I looked up the address of the Israeli Government Press Office in Jerusalem and took a bus there.

Upon registering, I discovered that while news control was strict, it retained a formal appearance of freedom. Journalists could enter on a tourist visa and then register with the press office to receive assistance with reporting — in that sense, it was open. 

However, certain conditions remain, as stricter controls are imposed on visitors from countries with larger Muslim populations. In 2024, my Malaysian wife, Maggie, travelled to Israel with a Malaysian Catholic group on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. When they entered Israel from Jordan, a Singaporean group passed through quickly, whereas the Malaysian group was questioned for ages before being allowed in.

When I registered at the press office, a staff member told me that most government agencies were based in Jerusalem, so it would be more convenient for me to stay there. I had previously thought most embassies would be located in Tel Aviv since it was the capital city, but Israel had placed its government institutions in Jerusalem. I followed his advice and soon moved to a guesthouse there.

Over the following week, aside from exploring Jerusalem’s Old City, I conducted several interviews with the help of the press office: visiting a military base; observing a nighttime ceremony for new recruits at the Western Wall; interviewing Israeli officers; visiting a kibbutz (a collective farming community); and speaking with professors at Hebrew University. 

Israeli officers had a consistent narrative about why they maintained military control over the West Bank: since the terrain of the West Bank overlooks Jerusalem, any hostile force there would pose a serious military threat to the city. This was their justification for holding onto the territory.

One small episode remains vivid in my memory. While interviewing a middle-aged officer, he noticed that I was taking notes in Chinese and asked if he could see them. I handed over my notebook, scrawled with my messy and hurried handwriting. Looking at my Chinese notes, he said, “I envy you.” 

I’m not sure why he said that. Perhaps he saw Chinese as a mysterious script, an ancient pictographic system, and felt that those who use it today possess a connection to ancient civilisation — a kind of mysterious power. It might have been an envy of the ability to command such symbols. It was the first time a foreigner had said something like that to me. The Jewish people are themselves an ancient civilisation; perhaps they are particularly sensitive to such things.

At a military base near Jerusalem, we covered a family visitation event for new recruits — a morale-boosting activity for families to visit their newly enlisted children. I saw gatherings of young female recruits accompanied by their parents; some were even wearing make-up and posing for the camera. These were new recruits, while the more experienced female officers appeared seasoned, their movements almost masculine.

This was 1984, and the middle-aged officer who briefed us had fought as a soldier in the Six-Day War 17 years earlier. He said, “Once you are on the battlefield, all training goes out of the window. Everything becomes chaotic — tanks move one way, troops another, nothing as originally planned by commanders. It turns into a complete mêlée.” This was the account of an officer from the side that won.

In short, actual combat is very different from planned command, being a series of improvised responses. 

During our visit, two F-15 fighter jets took off from a nearby airbase, rolling through the sky with a thunderous roar in an impressive sight. At the time, these all-weather aircraft were among the most powerful in combat, before the advent of fifth-generation fighters.

In my interactions with Israeli officers and soldiers, it was evident that they were well educated and of high calibre. As a professor at Hebrew University remarked, they had “trained too many doctors”. 

Israel’s high level of education is well known: a small land with a small population, yet producing a significant number of highly skilled professionals. I had never heard people from any other country say they had “trained too many doctors”. 

Israel is also the only country in the world where both men and women are subject to compulsory military service — two years and eight months for men, two years for women. Military service is an essential stage of life.

The nighttime induction ceremony at the Western Wall in Jerusalem was deeply ritualistic, almost ancient in character. Recruits held flaming torches that illuminated the Wall, and each received a rifle and a copy of the Old Testament from their commander. The rifle and the Bible symbolised the sacred duty of Jewish soldiers. This ceremony suggested that the army was not merely a secular institution but one imbued with a sense of religious mission. 

In Israel’s unique circumstances, soldiers often carried their weapons even when off duty — likely the only ones in the world to do this — so they could respond immediately if confronted by armed enemies. One officer did say that tragedies had occurred, such as a soldier shooting his girlfriend after a breakup, though such cases were rare.

Later, I travelled to Ramallah, the largest city in the West Bank. Although Jerusalem is formally considered the capital of Palestine, its actual administrative centre operates in Ramallah, which lies very close to Jerusalem. I also visited Haifa, a port city in central Israel, passing through Nazareth — Jesus’s hometown. I made these impromptu trips on my own.

In Ramallah, I entered a Palestinian neighbourhood. It was noticeably less developed than the Jewish areas. In conversations with both Jews and Palestinians, one could clearly sense mutual distrust and even hostility. This feeling did not emerge during official interviews or the brief visits, but became evident in private conversations with young men and women. 

A young Jewish woman told me, with a penetrating gaze I still remember: “They want to destroy us.” It felt as though the latent flames of ethnic tension could ignite at any moment.

At the same time, amid Israel’s military occupation and its dominance over economic and educational resources, any outsider witnessing the situation could easily sympathise with the Palestinians in an instinctive human tendency to side with the weaker party. Israeli press officers themselves acknowledged that even Western media often criticised Israeli government policies, which they found frustrating.

Finally, I visited a kibbutz established in the early years of Israel’s statehood. It represented a socialist model of collective labour, achieving notable success in agricultural production. It combined elements of socialist communes with religious Zionism, or perhaps it was a blend of both. What struck me most, however, was a remark by an elderly resident: “Sometimes couples break up, but they still have to see each other every day — it’s very painful.” 

This reflected the lack of personal mobility within a collective system. Living in such a tightly knit environment could create its own kind of suffering that we never thought of, accustomed as we were to a highly mobile society with freedom of choice.

At the end of the week, I developed my photographs and brought them to the press office. After inspection, they sealed them in an official envelope stamped by the office, assuring me that customs would allow it through without inspection. However, Israeli customs still opened the envelope, and immigration officers asked me numerous and sometimes repetitive questions.

Now, 42 years later, looking back at those photographs, I feel differently. At the time, we regarded Israel as a war zone, but by today’s standards it was relatively peaceful. Bloodshed was limited; there were no Jewish settlements on the highlands as seen today, and travel between the West Bank and Jerusalem did not involve walls or barbed wire, nor were there suicide bombers. 

Later, the situation became increasingly bloody and terrifying — cycles of revenge with no end in sight, a sense of despair with no clear way forward. Despite various efforts by the international community, the situation has not improved, only deteriorated. 

In this land described in the Bible as God’s “Promised Land”, the present seems little different from the ancient era of endless, bloody religious conflict.

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