Situation Grave - All Email Messages
To And From Reuven And
His Website Have Been Erased

From Leland Lehrman

Friends and Colleagues,
Please confirm receipt of his message and publicize widely for saftey reasons.
After Reuven Schossen, the Israeli dissident, returned to Bolivia, we maintained an email relationship and I continued to edit his book. I secured permission from the publisher of the newspaper I edit to publish his manuscript. We began editing the latest version of his excellent book, Holygarchy, after Publish America decided to terminate their contract with him on spurious grounds.
He had recently sent me a new chapter about a high level Mossad agent who was also coincidentally an "art student."
He never gave me the real name of this gentleman, always calling him Arik, but he told me one very important detail about the man, namely that he was the son of the man who put the bombs in the Hotel King David.
He told me about the "fighting families" (Lehi, Etzel, Irgun) of Israel and the way in which they still control the intelligence services and plum business positions given as gifts to core warriors.
Recently, Reuven was growing more and more desperate back in Bolivia and mentioned to me that he was again under heavy surveillance and that someone had recently broken into his room in search of "documents."
Then, all of a sudden, this morning, I go to edit the newest version of Straw Skyscrapers, a chapter from the book, when I find that absolutely every single email to and from Reuven has been deleted from my gmail account. Even his entry in my Contacts file was gone.
It has been widely reported that google has CIA connections, and quite frankly, I feel deeply violated and very concerned, both for Reuven and myself, hence this public letter.
Tonight, I checked on a hunch and found that Reuven's entire website has disappeared. The domain has not expired, and was hosted at a free site on (Yahoo). Once again, I suspect active sabotage. Google and you can see the cached version. An old version is still up at
Attached, please find the most recent chapter entitled Arik in the midst of the editing process as well as the complete manuscript as I have it. I also include below the chapter entitled Straw Skyscrapers, a touching account of the vagueness of the Israeli State's "Law of Return," underscoring the vast myth of Judaism as race and religion.
Please pray for Reuven if you are so inclined. Although some of my friends, you know who you are, were disinclined to work with Reuven, I developed a close relationship with him. As such, my emotions are telling me that something very bad has happened and I am concerned for my friend's safety. As he used to say to me, it could happen to you too.
Leland Lehrman (505) 982-3609
Chapter 4. The Straw Skyscraper
I had arrived in Israel many years earlier, after finishing primary school in Buenos Aires, and went to live on a kibbutz in the Jordan Valley until my enrollment in the army. My four grandparents ran away from the violent Europe of the early twentieth century to South America. World War Two was a taboo subject in our home, and the dead were never mentioned. The only contact I had with the issue was through a survivor, the mother of my maternal grandmother. She never said a word about the events, a tattoo on her hand was the only giveaway. One day my parents decided to make their way to the Middle East and for no good reason, I found myself in Israel. No child can understand why he should have to travel to a war zone.
The kibbutz was a socialist settlement form designed in the beginning of the twentieth century, at the peak of the efforts to create a New Jew in his own state. The children grew up in separate houses, away from their parents. Socialist protocol required that everyone experience the same conditions and to the horror of socialist leaders, every family was different and hence created a supposedly inadequate background for children.
Soon, I felt a growing physical distance from my family, a remoteness that reflected my unhappiness with the move to Israel and the kibbutz. Each age group had around a dozen children living in a dedicated building with two adults watching over them. A woman did the housekeeping, woke us every morning and prepared our breakfast, while a man, who was called "the coach," met with the whole group once a week and instructed us in how to interpret reality.
Despite all their talk about equality, the two adult roles were defined according to gender. The discipline was harsh but it was implemented in subtle ways. The most obvious was the social pressure of friends, but the coach could threaten as well; his best line was: "This will be written in your personal file." I never found where the personal file was kept, but years later, I wasn't surprised to hear my expressed critiques about their system alluded to by government officials.
Their ideology was false. The place was supposed to be a secular-socialist paradise, but the reality was different and a small group of functionaries ­ or politruks as we called them using pseudo-soviet terminology ­ rotated through administrative jobs while the proletariat milked the cows and took care of the fields. Beyond their practical experience in administration, the politruks had no specific education that prepared them for their jobs and made them more appropriate for leadership than the milking hordes. My point of view regarding the system got me pushed out, but it was proven correct a decade later when, following a series of monetary scandals the kibbutzim collapsed.
They couldn't pay the old loans given by other governments, and despite the loans' unprecedented generosity and partial forgiveness by later governments, the kibbutzim just couldn't recover. Citizens living in the small towns next to them, most of them populated by Oriental Jews as compared to a majority of Western Jews in the kibbutzim, had for years complained about the money received by the kibbutzim.
Shiny swimming pools built on cheap loans were considered a provocation by the small town dwellers who called themselves the "Second Israel;" meaning that they felt like second class citizens. In the end, the kibbutzim were forced to recognize the right to private possessions and adapted themselves to the lifestyle of the rest of the country.
During my years on the kibbutz, no evidence of their overblown ideologies could be identified in their daily life, yet none of the proletariat ever pointed at that obvious delusion, maybe since we were afraid. Social pressure was the way they dealt with any questioning of their social practices. To admit that their founders had made ideological mistakes was their deepest fear and sarcasm was the universal medicine prescribed for those with the so called wrong attitude. I was caged among sarcastic savages, who cared just for the profitability of their cows and the weight of their wheat.
Supposed aspirations to equality were pointed downwards and instead of improving themselves, administrators aimed to limit the self-development of other members. They acidly referred to this process as keeping the height of the grass even. They perceived my knowledge of foreign languages, of alien cities and cultures as a drawback; my accent was hilarious in their eyes, and my constant reading was seen as a kind of mental sickness. Cultural activities were regarded as a superfluous addition to life; language itself was looked upon as a suspicious invention. The local leaders carefully cultivated these weird points of view, as the ignorance of the masses was imperative to their survival in power.
Secondary school was a very confusing experience. The school belonged to the socialist branch of education and held that flag high, an ensign that in Israel was connected to the one of secularism. However, we were required to study the Old Testament in order to graduate from high school and enter university. Unable to resolve the apparent ideological contradiction, our teachers adopted several weird tricks.
We were taught that the pharisaic-rabbinical interpretation of the Bible was wrong, that it was not Humanistic and that it was done in the spirit of convenience. The political situation which still exists in Israel today - where a rabbinical minority decides which of the two big parties holds power and uses this power to milk money from the government - made it very easy to accept this claim of our teachers. The problem was that they didn't offer a coherent, alternative interpretation of the text. They showed us the bad without pointing towards the good; the socialist flag had no pole.
Proud socialists, we didn't need to buy materials for the school, we got everything from a system that worked hard to lower costs. One such effort resulted in a batch of Hebrew Bibles printed in Sweden that included the New Testament, an oddity in Israel. They were given free of charge. Years later, when I was searching for such a book, I couldn't find one. Yet in the six years of secondary school, none of the teachers mentioned the second part of the book even once. Being the new kid on the block, I could allow myself to ask the questions no one else would ask.
Once I asked my teacher why we don't read the second part of the Book. "We don't read that," she reproached me without further explanation. The most intriguing part in the very expected answer was "we." Did she mean "we, the socialists" or "we, the Israelis" or "we, the Jews?" I don't think she knew. The same confused attitude appeared whenever I asked identity questions. The country seemed to me like a straw skyscraper built on a sour-cream foundation.
This foamy foundation was the first law legislated by the State of Israel, the Law of Return, which said that every Jew had the right to return to Israel and to get immediate citizenship upon arrival. How could such a law be legislated? Lacking a constitution defending the rights of all citizens, the Israeli Parliament could legislate anything. The Law of Return explicitly discriminates on an ethnic and religious basis and does not even state who in fact is a Jew. The pharisaic rabbis claim that they are the only judges of that.
"We" is pronounced in Hebrew with a violent collision between two consonants; always insinuating that it is not safe to ask the next logical question, who are we? "We" was our transparent Berlin Wall. There was no "we" really, all I could hear was the wee-wee of professional victims. After two thousand years of Diaspora, it was obvious that "we" weren't a defined ethnic group. A Rosenbaum looked like a German, while a Medina looked like an Arab. Was religion the glue? No again. Most Israelis ignored the scriptures and left the issue in an unidentified Limbo. Or was it Hades?
The year was 1983, but at school we were already studying Orwell's 1984, a book which frightened us by its similarity to life in Israel. The Lebanon War, which had begun a year earlier, was still called by the government "the War for the Peace of Galilee." The Hebrew possessive contraction brought together the two words sounding exactly like "War-Peace," creating thus a perfect Orwellian oxymoron. We all skipped the obvious contemporaneous context of the book in our commentaries; such semantic tactics could belong only to the enemy and we lived in an enlightened society.
A little voice in our head told a different story, one that had to be kept to ourselves. The glitch allowing such a subversive book to be on our reading list could be interpreted as some inconsistency of the system. However, a frightening alternative explanation was that 1984 had been placed on the Education Ministry's official list of books intentionally, so that we would forever fear authority and behave.
Orwellian semantics predated the man for whom they are named by more than two thousand years. Rabbis are its long-established experts. The history teachers always gave us interesting points of view. They had the most questioning minds in the school and taught us about the pharisaic strategies for holding religious authority over the people; how they strategically change the names of important religious figures and create and modify the meanings of organizations and symbols. The word "Pharisees", the religious political party of the traditional scribes, means "the separated;" and relates to the political origin of this group.
When they began campaigning for the role of the accepted religious authority of the people, they couldn't keep the old "separated" name. In a maverick marketing exercise, they created a new title, rabbi from the word for "much" and related to the word "majority", and assigned it to Moses. Even nowadays in Israel, he is more often than not called "Moshe Rabenu", or "Moses our Rabbi." When the Sadducees, the traditional priest class, weakened, the Pharisees usurped the title of Rabbi, now prestigious by association with Moses, for themselves and became the recognized religious authority of the Jewish people.
Along with immoral foreign doctrines brought from Babylon, the Pharisees adopted the old Hindu symbol for spiritual strength as their own. To ingratiate it in the eyes of the people they called it the Star of David or in a direct translation from Hebrew, "David's Shield." To justify their foreign beliefs, they claimed they were given orally to Moses in Sinai, a false claim which is not mentioned in the Bible. Without understanding this oral tradition, they asserted, you cannot interpret the Bible correctly. Thus, they stole the Bible from the people.
Jesus tried to explain that the correct interpretation is the one arising from faith and love, not the monstrous apparatus based on personal convenience created by the rabbis. I was shocked to learn about the meaning of the change of the name of Jesus in Hebrew, a change that I realized was a vital clue as to the nature of the problems in Israeli society. The real name of the historical Jesus was "Yeshua" which means salvation in Hebrew. Worried about the implications, the pharisaic rabbis changed his name to "Yeshu," an acronym meaning "be his name and memories forgotten." Even nowadays, that's the most popular way to refer to him in Israel.
During high-school studies, farm work was still compulsory. Despite the pressure, I was the only one in my class who bothered to take the exams needed to enter University and pass them. I did much more than the minimum necessary, almost twice as much in fact, since I didn't want some sudden and arbitrary change in the regulations to delay me from entering higher studies after the army. However, in a practice that became second nature to me, I still didn't do my best; calling too much attention to myself didn't seem to be a good practice in Israeli society. h: 505.982.3609 o: 505.473.4458



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