Jerusalem: Days of Mourning

The beauty of Israel is slain upon thy high places.

How are the mighty fallen.

So, according to the second book of Samuel did Israel's King David lament the deaths of Saul and Jonathan at the hands of the Philistines. Last week an Israeli announcer solemnly intoned those mournful lines before announcing that 1,854 of his countrymen had died in the Yom Kippur War. Although Israelis were prepared for high casualty figures, the magnitude of the toll compared with the 803 fatalities of the Six-Day War nonetheless stunned them. Nearly every household in the nation of 3,200,000 has suffered or knows a loss in the war. Said Yehezkel Shemesh, a Jerusalem restaurant owner: "We are all one mishpocheh [family]. When one boy dies, we all grieve together." Last Wednesday morning weeping mourners crowded temporary military cemeteries to attend mass memorial services. In Jerusalem, which bore more than 10% of Israel's casualties, Mayor Teddy Kollek visited the homes of the bereaved families.

Even after Israel's government announced that it and Egypt had accepted the U.S.-endorsed cease-fire plan, Jerusalem's mood remained sober and suspicious. Professor Louis Guttman, a well-known public opinion analyst, found that 84% of his countrymen believe that the Arabs' primary goal is to destroy Israel.

Not surprisingly, Jerusalem showed few signs that Israel had won at least a military victory. Night life remained subdued, and cinema attendance was down by 80%. When Jerusalem's citizens did venture out, as some did to hear Rachmaninoff and Stravinsky played by the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra, they took along blankets and coats; to conserve oil, the concert hall was unheated.

By the end of the week the ceasefire was bringing some relaxation. On Friday, many soldiers were heading home on leave for the Sabbath. Lottery vendors were again doing a brisk business, as were the policemen who resumed the issuing of parking tickets, which they had suspended during the fighting. Traffic once more started clogging the city's center.

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Trucks, however, were still scarce. The army had mobilized most of Israel's private commercial trucks, virtually paralyzing the country's internal transportation system. Goods and supplies have piled up at warehouses. With most of the working-age male population still in the army, labor shortages have become severe. Mayor Kollek has had to recruit high school pupils to work in Jerusalem's bakeries to ensure adequate supplies of bread. A huge drop in retail sales and in the tourist trade (hotel occupancy in October was 75% below normal) markedly reduced local tax collections. To meet its payroll, Jerusalem had to go to private banks for loans.

Like Kollek, many of the city's Jews bravely insist that "we can take a lot worse than this." In fact, they are just now becoming aware of the severe austerity that faces them. One government economist estimated that the war cost Israel more than $4 billion and has wiped out the country's projected gross national product growth for the year. To help finance the war, the government has required everyone to buy government bonds in an amount equal to roughly 10% of taxable income. Most likely, that kind of forced saving will prove to be only the first notch of painful belt tightening. By last week most Israelis knew that it could be a long time before they would again be able to buy cars and TV sets or travel freely abroad.

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