
1.
In the heat of the political turmoil, a defining moment passed us by without us noticing it. Perhaps defining is too gentle a word. A historic moment. A reality-changing moment. A moment after which humanity will never be the same again. And I am referring to the new service launched by WhatsApp that allows listening to voice messages at high speed.
Last month, a small square was added to each voice message that allows you to choose the listening speed from three options - normal speed, one and a half times, or twice.
Maybe some people think I'm just kidding now. It's all a way to save time and quickly hear messages from diggers. But I'm actually completely serious. WhatsApp's new feature is about to change our lives. It's really not just a technical matter, for a simple reason: the speed of speech is not just a technical matter. It's a cultural, social, intergenerational matter, and many other words of this kind, which I'm sparing you so that you don't start reading me at three times the speed.
There are countless differences between our generations and the generations that came before us. Books have been written about it, scientific studies have been conducted, but I don't think you need to be a sociologist or a media researcher to notice that one of the main differences between the generation of our parents and grandparents and our generation, and then between our generation and our children's generation, is in patience. With the patience to read, listen, invest, think. In everything that concerns these abilities – the generational decline is extremely steep.
2.
Older people speak slowly. It's a fact. I used to think it was a natural consequence of age. The body ages and becomes slower, and just as walking becomes slower, so does speech (only speech has no stick to support it). This is not accurate. There is obviously a slowdown in all bodily functions in old age, but it's not just that. Hours of listening to archive recordings of speeches from decades ago and past broadcasts have brought me to a clear conclusion: young people used to speak much more slowly too. Even the cool and proper young people, the ones who hosted programs on television and before that on the radio, spoke slowly. And they also had an expatriate accent, but that's another story.
So no. I really don't want to go back to a primitive, slow, cumbersome world. It's fun to live in a progressive world. I don't want to go back to the days of washing clothes in a Primus or even to the era before the microwave. Not even to the one before the Internet.
I'm comfortable writing this column on a small laptop, launching it with the click of a button and not having to travel all the way to the system with my handwriting (and without Waze...). And you know what, I'm also not sure I want to go back to the era before WhatsApp, despite the time it takes up and the distraction it causes. I also see many advantages in it. And after all that, we need to be aware of the next step up – actually, the next step down – in the technological madness of our lives.
3.
I return to the researchers. They will also professionally examine the impact of WhatsApp's new development on our lives. I am sure that they will mark the summer of 2021 as a milestone in the great experiment that we have all been participating in for the past decade or so, since the Internet entered our lives and especially since the smartphone entered our pockets.
Personally, I can report a worrying symptom after less than a month of using the new feature.
But wait, a brief introduction: For me, it's really a rolling process. Years ago, when the world of text messaging came along, I lost the patience to talk on the phone. I no longer have the energy for the whole "Hello? Hello, how are you? How are you? What else? Great. All the best, hello, hello.".
I switched to texting only, and as a result, I pretty much cut off ties, to my shame, with friends from the past. Not intentionally, God forbid, it was a process like that. At first, instead of answering the calls, I wrote to the friend who was calling: "Sorry, I'm in the middle of something. Text me please." Then, because he had a kosher device, I received an automated response in response: "Text messages cannot be sent to a subscriber. You will not be charged for the attempted sending." And that was it. That's how the connection was severed.
Wait, if he doesn't have any text messages, why didn't I call back, you ask? You're right. That's not right. But as I said, I've lost patience with the hello-bye-bye procedure.
4.
Then WhatsApp came along and destroyed my ability to text. It suddenly became incredibly slow and strange to send a message and then wait half a minute for a reply, without immediately receiving a blue V and without seeing online that the person on the other end was writing.
The next step in the evolution happened recently: voice messages. I really like this function, recording long speeches by mouth, without bothering to type a single letter (not to mention the truly luxurious upgrade that came later, which even freed us from having to press with our finger the entire time we were recording). But it also came at a price - I had to spend time listening to other people's long speeches.
And now the new development has arrived that allows me to speed up the messages they send me. Great, isn't it? So, after the initial enthusiasm for the possibility of saving time by quickly listening to overly long messages, I noticed that face-to-face conversations, in reality, have become challenging for me. After all, in them I don't have the opportunity to speed up the pace of the speaker. He talks and talks and I pretty quickly lose concentration. Oh well, after a month of playing every voice message at twice the speed, it sounds strange to me to hear a person speak at a normal pace. I'm used to people who sound like the ones in the song "In the Land of the Dwarves.".
And I'm not talking about work conversations, that's all. I'm talking about conversations with the kids (not with the wife, with her it's the other way around: I've been looking for years for someone to invent a button that would slow down her speaking rate). I'm starting to lose patience, and it's starting to become problematic.
5.
So what do we do? I don't know. I'm on the move. Maybe it's worth giving up on this development and going back in time, just one month? After all, that's a step too. You know those serious people who tell you, "Sorry, I uninstalled the WhatsApp app, it took up a lot of my time"?
Maybe from today I'll say, somewhat arrogantly: "Sorry, I try not to use the new double-speed feature, so if you leave me a voice message, please try to speak quickly and naturally. Okay? Hello, hello, all the best.".
6.
On Tuesday morning this week, bulldozers descended on the legendary IBA television building on Torah Mitzion Street in Jerusalem. After about four years of the building standing empty, since the public broadcasting was transferred to a corporation, permits were received to demolish it in favor of a housing project for the ultra-Orthodox public.
How do I know exactly when they started demolishing? Thanks to a hasty message that arrived in my email that day: "The Jerusalem Journalists Association strongly protests the message from Aka Real Estate and owner Eli Klein, who invited the public to the 'demolition ceremony of the Israel Broadcasting Authority complex on the occasion of the construction of a luxury project.'.
""This is certainly not a day for celebration. The Israel Broadcasting Authority building in Rome is not just another building, it is a building that has been a symbol of Israeli public life for many years. From this building, hundreds and thousands of journalists served the general public for almost five decades. The place was home to many journalists who invested the best of their lives in striving for impartial public broadcasting, despite the many pressures exerted on them.
""Professional investigative and reporting journalism operated from the location, as well as lavish productions and the broadcasting of important events from Israel and the world. The day of the demolition of the building that served as the clear symbol of public broadcasting is a sad day, not a day for celebration.".
I read the message and smiled. I am not happy for anyone whose house was destroyed, or even their workplace, or even their workplace four years ago. I am sure that during the decades that the building stood, since 1968, many good and dedicated people worked there, from the guards who stood at the entrance to the building day and night to the people in directing, producing, setting, photography and makeup. I know some of them personally from my days at the Israel Broadcasting Authority, and I was happy to meet them in recent years, continuing their work in the corporation or in other media outlets.
But the message of mourning is not about them. They are the little, technical people. The message is about generations of journalists who worked in the building that "was a symbol of Israeli public life." So if you are talking to me about this symbol and the "professional press" that operated from there – sorry, it is difficult for me to share in your grief.
The press that operated from this building, and that you are so fond of, symbolizes for me and for most of the people a closed and disconnected guild of broadcasters and journalists, all from the same small and fanatical Beit Midrash, with the exact same worldview, who for a generation broadcast from this building - exclusively! - their extremist worldview to every home in Israel. And all at the expense of all of us.
Here is a short list, just from memory, of figures who broadcast their teachings from this building. Try to find the differences (if you succeed, you will win a T-shirt and a record): Alex Giladi, Dan Shilon, Haim Yavin, Yaron London, Moti Kirshenbaum, Israel Segal, Amnon Abramovich, Gabi Gazit, Rafik Halabi, Amnon Levy, Dan Margalit, Gadi Suknik, Michael Karpin. So that's right, at the end of every day there was also the verse of the day, and at the end of every week we gave an hour to broadcasts of Jewish tradition, and there were also important documentary programs, but from here to the consecration of the walls and stones of the (empty) building? Will it not be sold and will it not be redeemed?
Well, you know what: I agree to come hug you and sing together "Prayer for the Poor, for He Will Be Enfolded." We will get through this together. And the truth? There is also something really happy about this announcement. I learned from her that on the expensive complex where the television building used to stand, in the heart of Jerusalem, no less than six 11-story buildings with 308 apartments are soon to be built.
It wasn't written in the announcement, but from my familiarity with the developing environment of 'Ganei Geula' I estimate that these apartments will be home to hundreds of wealthy American Haredi families, who after years in exile will immigrate to the Holy Land. Torah of Zion. I wonder how they would report this in the Mabat edition.
• The column is published in the newspaper 'Bisheva''