
Five and a half years have passed since the outbreak of the "Lithuanian Spring" or its more symbolic act - the removal of Nati Grossman from the Yated offices - to the demonstrations of the Jerusalem faction in the streets, which include colorful images of boys hugging and jumping in puddles of rain and wearing masks.
Like any social process, the ultra-Orthodox-social attitude to the fascinating processes of Hello has also undergone a fascinating evolution.
If Ross spoke of the five stages of grief that the individual goes through from denial to acceptance, she points to Haredi website 10 On nine social stages surrounding the 'Lithuanian controversy,' ranging from cautious optimism to abysmal sadness.
Not everyone goes through the same stages, and there are those who have only adopted stages 3 and 9, or only 8, but everyone seems to have traveled through some of these stages.
A. Cautious optimism and naivety: With the publication of the battles in the Yated Ne'eman newspaper on the night of Sivan 11, 5772, and the news that the veteran guard had been removed from the Haredi public sphere, there was a sigh of relief among quite a few Haredim.
It turns out that, in a manner uncharacteristic of the Lithuanian group, the Haredi street managed to unite consensually around their disgust with editor Grossman, who was considered to have developed methods of exclusion and hierarchy among rabbis, courts, and groups that did not necessarily match his personal views.
Many believed that Haredi society was moving toward normalization, that the newspaper would be run by members of the household of Rabbi Shteinman, and that Haredi street life would return to a blessed routine.
The discourse in those days was: Disagreements between the greats of the generation will not occur, at the end of the day, everyone knew how to act in important matters. The main thing is that Grossman was fired.
B. Initial disillusionment: A few weeks passed and Grossman proved that it was not for nothing that he occupied such a central place in Haredi socialization. He founded a newspaper, and a group of the Haredi public united around the leadership of Rabbi Auerbach, declaring that they were 'sons of Torah', and that the mainstream's attitude towards Haredi figures such as the issue of conscription was considered compromising and dangerous.
C. Distrust: For months, the attitude of the members of the central group towards the group that quickly took the name 'the Jerusalem faction' was characterized by dismissal. "This is a small, marginal and meaningless group." Their newspaper, senior officials at Degel Hatorah were heard saying, would not last even a month. But the newspaper, which enjoys 13.7 percent exposure, continued to be distributed for more than five years, and the members of the Jerusalem faction even announced a separate run in the local elections.
D. The struggle: At this point, Degel Hatorah launched a war against the Jerusalem faction, which did not hold back. An advertising boycott was declared against the newspaper and an open struggle was declared against the group. In response, the Jerusalem faction launched a blitz of phone calls to advertisers, warning them of a consumer boycott. In March 2015, twenty-two suspects were arrested on suspicion of harassment and threats by the elements of the large companies, and two years later, the newspaper's editors were also arrested on similar suspicion.
E. Separation: On the Haredi street, the recognition began to take shape that the gap between the two groups went beyond a concrete debate about recruitment and deferral, and operative processes of separation were expressed in the removal of individuals who firmly refused to accept mainstream leadership from kollels, prayer pillars, and other positions of power.
and. Institutional differentiation: As the struggle intensified, it became clear to everyone that it was not possible to maintain an adequate educational atmosphere for the two groups of hawks under one roof. Soon, separate institutions were established, schools, yeshivas, seminaries, and comprehensive schools, and large movements of young men and women, boys and girls, and girls, moved from the old institution to an institution that suited their views.
Another and no less important implication appeared in the field of matchmaking, and parents of girls who came to the matchmaker demanded that the matchmaker check, first of all, whether the proposed young man belonged to the "Etznikim." Only later did they ask to check whether he was also a male.
G. Hatred: At this stage, which in sociology is called - the transition from the embryonic stage to the institutional stage - hatred and enmity between the groups began to develop. The physical and institutional separation did not enjoy a quiet adaptation in the style of "we are here, they are there," but rather confrontations, harsh accusations, and not a little forbidden talk against the great rabbis began to be heard in the Haredi discussion groups.
This phase also included quite a few reports of the breakup of nuclear families due to the Lithuanian dispute.
H. The abomination: The hatred and animosity between the groups turned into deep disgust with the outbreak of the wave of protests last year. The images of dozens of young people blocking roads, as policemen and women confront them, created a deep disgust among 'ordinary' Haredim towards the protesters.
""For the first time I understood what hatred is," a neighbor from Modi'in Illit told me. And her husband explained: When the Haredi community demonstrates in this way, I know that it is 'them,' in front of whom stands the 'other' who does not represent me. When the right-wingers, who were part of me, do this, I can imagine my son there and I am moved.
The right-wingers, for their part, believe that the deep disgust arises from a place of embarrassment and self-blame: the 'regular' Haredim understand that we are right and they feel shame for their failure in the face of the 'draft decree.' They blame this self-hatred on us.
T. Sadness: Despite the intuitive feeling that the demonstrations will stop when the shooter arrives, the protesters seem to be going nowhere. In a circular motion, the protesters are arrested, exposed as deserters, given long prison sentences, and their friends go out to demonstrate again.
The ultra-Orthodox, who have so far sought to skip the first eight steps and remain neutral, find it difficult to remain indifferent in the face of the embarrassing images and secular anger. They did not hate the 'hatsanikim', they did not try to dismiss them as many others did by calling them 'those crazy people', but rather maintained an ongoing dialogue with them and sincerely tried to understand their values.
But then the harsh images of young women getting out of their cars and swearing at the protesters surfaced, and they are filled with deep sadness. They ask themselves how a parent, watching the images, could send his son with 15 other young people to anarchically confront police officers, policewomen, and drivers, who tearfully demand to understand why they are disrupting their lives?
This is a real sadness, coupled with a sense of acceptance and understanding that it is impossible to have a rational conversation with those young boys. After all, what can you say to a 16-year-old boy who lies embraced by his friend on a main road every week, with a jet of disgusting water sprayed on him, and the song "In the Rule of the Infidels" by the ultra-Orthodox community's madmen playing in the background?
Maybe we can tell him we're sad.