Why are Ukrainians laughing all the way to war?

What is the real reason for the war between Russia and Ukraine? Why are the most bitter quarrels between brothers? And how is all this related to the "gloomy" state of Hebrew literature. Sad!

The Ukrainian Bear  (Source)

The world is astonished by the cheerful audacity of a comedian president who is a target for assassination, by the general clownish response to a general murderous invasion, by the sharing of "laughs" on the battlefield, by "trolling against missiles" and "TikTok against tanks" videos, by the smiling faces of citizens under shelling, and even the feed experts are puzzled: Yigal Librandt wonders about what he's "almost afraid" to call Ukrainian "jollity" in the struggle, and Shalom Boguslavsky doesn't understand why we know where the Russian army is - but not the Ukrainian one. The nature of the comic effect is surprise, and one can almost hear the enlightened wave of cognitive shock as the script breaks: Is this what war looks like? Where is the competition of victimhood and crying familiar to us (for example: between Israelis and Palestinians), in order to attract Western sympathy and its merciful Christian heart? Where is the pitifulness and self-pity, for heaven's sake? Where is our beloved duo: shooting - crying? Shooting and laughing?!

The world is captivated, surprised, and amazed - but not by the war itself (it has seen many wars and its heart has developed thick skin), but by the Ukrainian response to the war: Come, see, there will be laughs. What has turned the bored, uncircumcised heart of the world towards Ukraine? What fascinates those who already wanted to forget its existence and return to their dull indifference, as in any other "sad" conflict (oh, it's terrible what they're doing there in...)? Well, the fun. It's not the tear that creates identification but the wink, it's not the effortful "hasbara" [Translator's note: Hebrew term for public diplomacy efforts] that influences public opinion (watching the show) - but the show (and one that's fun to watch!). More than anything, the Ukrainian response to the occupation reminds us Israelis of Samson's testament to us, explaining how to get rid of foreign occupation and oppression (which is actually Jabotinsky's testament, author of "Samson", to Jewish culture): "Tell them in my name, not two but three things: to gather iron, to put a king over them, and to learn to laugh". Oh wait, where does Jabotinsky come from actually?

What actually distinguishes Ukrainian culture, whose greatest writers are Russia's greatest writers, from Russian culture? Is there really a distinct Ukrainian culture that is not part of Russian culture? Where can we even locate a cultural fault line, perhaps even a poetic one, which always eventually becomes a political fault line (and finally - when they refuse to recognize it, a warlike one)? Since we're dealing with "giant" literatures, literally, let's think about the most paradigmatic and canonical examples: the great writers. On the Ukrainian side: Gogol, Bulgakov, Babel (and in our literature: Sholem Aleichem, Joseph Perl, and yes - Rabbi Nachman of Breslov). On the Russian side: Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, Turgenev (and in our literature: every writer who wants to be great and "serious"). Is anyone starting to notice a pattern? Yes, seriously - seriousness.

From the Ukrainian side of culture, again and again, come the central exemplary models of parodic, satirical, mocking and smiling literature, which tends towards the fantastic, the grotesque, and the light form. The king is the Joker, the president is a Jew dancing with stars, and the joy - is great. And from the Russian side of culture, again and again, come the central exemplary models of "great", heavy, deep, serious, realistic, philosophical, tragic novels, with hundreds and thousands of pages, and everything we've grown accustomed to thinking of as "Russian literature" and "Russian soul". Everything that Israeli literature and criticism - which unfortunately always saw Russian culture as its No. 1 model - wanted to be: a literary bear, preferably bereaved (because sad is serious). This is how we arrived at a victimhood and wailing culture, with pauses (deep with meaning), a rich language that no one speaks (and therefore no one reads), that doesn't laugh during the siren. And so the outdated novel, the doorstop, became our only "meaningful" and "serious" literary genre. And what kind of novel? Well, obviously: a Russian novel. Service with meaning.

For us, war and literature, thought and culture, perception and meaning, are heavy things - not light things. Greatness comes from size, right? And in this, there's no competition for Russianness, so we'll always compete for who has the bigger - not who has the smaller. This is how we quickly turned from David to Goliath, and Jewish humor became Israeli lamentation, and Sabra mischievousness - became grim-faced tedium (of a military correspondent). Fighting for us is a competition of self-pity and bereavement - not a competition of mockery trying to turn the other side into a joke, with cheerful creativity (remember the world's identification with Israel when we were small rascals - and not big crybabies?). Yes, culture also has expression in military doctrine, and even - in combat success. Israeli literature aspires to be Russian - a 60 km long armored column crawling - and not light and disappearing units, targeting it in a satirical duck shoot. Brute force, firepower, and ("strategic") depth - not parodic mobility, wild humor, and developed imagination. That's why we'll always prefer to read a mediocre but "heavyweight" (=respectable) novel, and not a light masterpiece (see: the fate of the Black Circle trilogy...), or to drone on with another "serious" academic article in dry jargon rather than thinking in the style of the cheeky Netanya school. We always aspire to be a man of the last century, if not the 19th century (see Putin), and to return to the Russian golden age, with the tragic fate and the dark soul and the table as long as the exile - instead of becoming a comic reality of the 21st century.