Al Ahmad, Jerusalem, and Me

Samuel Trop, the translator of the controversial book "Journey to the Land of Azrael" by Jalal Al Ahmad, describes his interpretation and feelings about Al Ahmad's travelogue in a text written for Radio Farda. Al Ahmad's travelogue to Israel, published in the 1960s, sparked protests from Iranian religious groups and clerics who disapproved of his visit to Israel. Trop, an Israeli-American, has translated this book from Persian to English. "I search for Jalal Al Ahmad in the alleys and backstreets of Jerusalem. This sentence may surprise some readers. Jerusalem and Al Ahmad? What is the connection? But as his translator, I know there is a literary secret in Al Ahmad's works that I can only solve here. In 1962, Al Ahmad and his wife Simin Daneshvar spent two weeks in Israel. They were not the only Iranian intellectuals to visit the fledgling country. At that time, under the Shah's regime, and in line with the interests of both countries, Iran and Israel had close relations. However, the travelogue that Al Ahmad wrote after returning to Iran remains unparalleled. In "Journey to the Land of Azrael," the English translation of which is being published these days, Al Ahmad speaks of his experiences and his intensive program in Israel. Among other scenes, he describes a ceremony awarding a medal of honor to a non-Jewish farmer who sheltered Jews during the Holocaust, and an evening spent until midnight discussing the world and the hereafter, Marxism, Russia, China, and Cuba with members of "Kibbutz Eilat Hashachar," a communal village in the north of the country. The specific socialist model of the kibbutz, which grew in Israel, attracted leftist intellectuals like Al Ahmad to Israel. However, the essence of the travelogue is not mere description and explanation. Al Ahmad considers the establishment of Israel a miracle and presents it as a model for Iran. For him, Israel is a place where the conflict between East and West — a conflict that was so important to Al Ahmad — had been resolved. Al Ahmad ridicules Arab countries for their duplicity and Westernization. Of course, Israel is also criticized, especially in the last chapter of the book, which was written after the Six-Day War in 1967, where Al Ahmad condemns Israel's crimes against the Palestinians. Despite the travelogue offering an unexpected perspective on Iran and Israel, there was something else that drew me out of the house. When Al Ahmad describes his visit to Jerusalem, there was a part that caught my attention. He writes: "Before entering Jerusalem, I did not think that anything of it would be in Jewish hands. But it was not so. The core of the city is, of course, in Jordanian hands. And within its old high walls, with the 'Wailing Wall' and Al-Aqsa Mosque. And its eastern part, the 'Mount of Olives,' which was perhaps the site of revelations to Christ." "And Simin and I struggled to peek from this corner and that — from the top of a platform or the roof of a house to see from afar the structure of the 'Dome of the Rock,' which faces southeast, on the slope of a hill leading to the valley that leads to the Mount of Olives. With the passport we had, we had no right to enter that area." I read this passage several times and each time I asked myself: I have lived in Jerusalem for years, and I do not know the place he describes. From which roof and from which building could they have sneaked a look at Al-Aqsa with such difficulty? With this question, I set off. In 1962, Jerusalem was divided into two cities. Following the 1948 war, Jordan had taken the eastern part of the city, and Israel had taken the western part. The "Green Line," the ceasefire border between the two countries, had split the heart of the city. The Old City, a holy place for Muslims, Jews, and Christians, was in Jordanian hands. Israelis were not allowed to go to the 'Wailing Wall,' the remaining wall of their temple that had been destroyed two thousand years ago, which was located in the Old City. Also, Palestinians who had been displaced from their homes in the western part of the city could not return and reclaim their properties. With an Israeli stamp in their passports, Al Ahmad and Daneshvar could not cross that border either. There are issues that shape both Iran's historical consciousness — and Israel's. Both countries are familiar with the instances of the tense relationship between religion and politics, the miraculous success of the public movement against oppression, ruthless wars, and organized violence, lack of freedom, and national honors. Of course, the details of the events of the past hundred years that shaped these concepts are different. The face of Jerusalem has completely changed since those days: instead of borders and barbed wire, a tram passes around the Old City. Israeli soldiers have replaced Jordanian soldiers — and the Palestinian population in the eastern part of the city now lives under Israeli enemy control. And the area around the old wall is full of tourists. I recognize several buildings that existed at the time of the Iranian writers' visit. Perhaps one of them is the building from which Al Ahmad looked. The "Notre Dame" convent, a Christian center next to the Old City? Or perhaps the roof of the "King David" hotel, the most luxurious hotel in the city, which is a bit further away? Or the former National Bank on Jaffa Street, a beautiful historical building that has now turned into a cheap pharmacy. In this regard, perhaps I am following Al Ahmad's own pattern. The form of 'pilgrimage' from the roof of the building that he describes can symbolize the entire journey and his Israeli travelogue. When I read the travelogue, I see how wrong he was and how far he was from the heart of Israeli culture and population. But because of his previous experience in Iran and familiarity with his own culture, he saw things that others were unable to see. Especially, his religious perspective on Israel is completely correct and even prophetic. Al Ahmad's unique personal viewpoint recognized the religious aspect that was hidden in the secular Israel of that time. Eventually, I find the right building — or at least, the probably right building. I stretch my neck to sneak a look from afar, with doubt, at that distant place.