Nine years ago, a group art exhibit opened that was devoted to then-Foreign Minister Avigdor Lieberman. Under the title "Yvette," (not Avigdor), Israeli artists responded to the world of values with which the Yisrael Beytenu chairman was identified, which in the opinion of the organizers of the show did "not align with what is seen or should be seen as the essence of 'Israeli-hood.'" The show was full of portrayals of Lieberman as a pig and a variety of visual and typographical hints about fascism. This was one of the peaks of the campaign to demonize Lieberman, whom Israeli culture spent a lot of time building up as an archetypical dictator. We need only bring up the mise-en-scènes on the weekly satire show "Eretz Nehederet" (It's a Wonderful Country), which gave us Yvette accompanied by a German shepherd and wearing boots, a leather jacket, speaking authoritatively.
Lieberman was cast as a threat to democracy (as was all the rising power of the Right), but Liebermanism – as it was called – specifically flirted with the idea of the pure Israel being overcome by a hostile entity. Of course, Lieberman's nationality made this sick demonization even easier. Nothing in his biography or worldview matched the narrative, but when the Israeli cultural plow is hitched up, the world of images is simplified. An accent and new immigrant's documents were enough to mark someone as a foreign agent who was importing the political culture of the Kremlin, the KGB, and the Soviet cult of leadership.
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So Lieberman being singled out as a pollutant stemmed to a large degree from his imagined "Russian-ness," which was colored by shades of "difference." An entire collective was stereotyped, with Lieberman as its most notable icon. Without the "otherness" of the "Russians," the hate project against Lieberman would have been ineffective.
It wouldn't be a stretch to assume that Lieberman's joining and flourishing in the national camp also has to do with the Right itself being labeled the "other," different from the Left's Ashkenazi-liberal-secular order. This aspect might also explain the connection between the national camp and the political leadership of new olim from the former Soviet Union – beyond, of course, ideology.
But this is what we must remember: When Lieberman was hated, and not a single racist stereotype evaded the engine of demonization that was set in action against him, the Right embraced him and was happy to see him bloom. That's apparently the reason why it turns the stomach to see Lieberman creating the discourse of hatred against the haredim, who in recent decades have also been partners in the national camp.
The metamorphosis is complete, and the results are frightening; the person who used to be hated now controls an industry of hate speech. It's not certain that Lieberman's anti-haredi attitude is part of his pursuit of votes – it seems more and more like a deep-seated psychological need to be accepted by society to make up for his ongoing experience of rejection. When Lieberman aims his venom at one of the favorite targets of the bourgeois Left in Ramat Aviv and the suburban Sharon area, we can understand his hateful rhetoric as a social signal – he is saying, I am a partner in shaping sentiment, I'm part of you, I've finally integrated.
When the discourse of hate toward the haredim comes from deep-seated Israeli-ness, which is full to bursting of itself – such as the nauseating election clips from the defunct Shinui party – it's less of a surprise. But when it come from someone who until recently was the victim of similar delegitimization, it's stomach-churning. What have you come to, Avigdor?
