If there is one thing every Oleh Chadash (New Immigrant) in Israel quickly learns, it is that there are two forces that drive Israeli society, always threatening to tear it to shreds. These forces are בירוקרטיה (Bureaucratiya, or Bureaucracy) and פרוטקציה (Protexia, or - as Google Translate puts it - favoritism). Due to the medical establishment's thorough documentation (or so it would seem) of my asthma, I have invoked the alternating ire and mercy of these two forces in my quest to draft into a combat unit in the Israel Defense Forces. Due to my bureaucratic misadventures over the past few weeks, the section titles will be "Bureaucratiya and Protexia: an Introduction (Yes, this Will be on the Final)," " It All Comes Back to Me," and "I Kinda Like this Paperwork Thing, Comrade"
Bureaucratiya and Protexia: an Introduction (Yes, this Will be on the Final)
Before we get going, Bureaucratiya will now be referred to as "Bureaucracy," because it's just that much more phonetically pleasing.
Since (and before) I officially made Aliyah, I've been subjected to Israel's many layered, sometimes entertaining, and always frustrating bureaucratic system. Every branch of the government here is built upon a mind-numbing amount of paperwork and as such can only function that way. Practically, what this means is that everyone who needs to get anything mildly useful from the Israeli government generally must to take a solid portion out of his day (anywhere ranging from one to three hours) and be prepared for a (un)healthy amount of paperwork, lines, and workers with moods ranging from "Best friend" to "Laser Eyes." These government employees can either make one's visit mildly pleasant or like something straight out of "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre" depending on how they feel that day. While this can be a tad daunting and frustrating, it occasionally has its perks. For instance, I have had experiences in which after waiting in line for a half hour to open up a bank account, I was shouted down by the clerk who I was assigned to because I was missing one out of many (to my eyes) indistinguishable forms. However, instead of despairing over the arbitrary nature of the system, I decided to embrace it, and simply got back in line. The next clerk received me with a warm smile and let me know that the form in question was not applicable to me and that I could open up an account immediately (it turns out that the form was my W-9. It is an incredibly necessary document unless one enjoys the occasional IRS audit. DO NOT FORGET TO BRING YOUR W-9).
Protexia, on the other hand, exists only to undermine the Bureaucracy. It is a metaphoric giant machete that is easily able to slice through the jungle of red tape that is Israeli Bureaucracy. Here's the way it works:
1) Do you know someone who works in the government department you plan on visiting?
2) You do? Great! You have Protexia! Depending on how high up your friend is in said government organization, you have may have just earned anything from free candy to a spot in the next Prime Ministerial election!
Israeli society is famous for its buddy-buddy attitude, an attitude that pervades the wheels that it runs on. While it's quite possible to have your problems solved by the system here, having a fun, extremely well connected uncle helps. I suppose in America you may regarded this as a tad corrupt. You would be right. That being said, the frequency with which every person in Israeli uses his or her Protexia just makes it a completely accepted and normal part of life, similar to driving 75 miles per hour on the interstate.
It All Comes Back to Me
Oh yes. Yes it does. I have been dealing with Israel's military and medical Bureaucracy for the past couple of months now, and it has not been enjoyable.
I have asthma. The army knows this because it is very apparent in my medical records that I order 100 doses of Budicort (a inhaler/steroid) at 100 micrograms per dose per month, 50 jets of Flixonaise nasal spray per month, as well as Ventolin, an emergency inhaler. When the doctor examining me at my Tzav Rishon (first army examinations) found this in my file, he told me to go take two pulmonary function exams. After much exerted effort to get the referral I needed from my insurance company, the reason that I was unable to get said referral was that I had no diagnosis for asthma.
In short, I was unable to get a referral to see a pulmonologist to diagnose me with a chronic condition (or a lack thereof) was that I had no diagnosis of a chronic condition.
With the date of my draft (vaguely in November) rapidly approaching (probably), I pressed the big red button I carry around and entered Panic Mode.
This would be where Protexia comes into the story. Desperate for a prompt appointment with a pulmonologist, I called a cousin who is good friends with a pulmonologist (who was unable to see me) who referred me to a pulmonologist that is covered by the medical insurance I have. After seeing the pulmonologist and taking two pulmonary function tests, the only conclusive result I got was... that the results were inconclusive, leaving me with a final medical examination this sunday in Jerusalem to earn eligibility to serve in a combat unit.
I Kinda Like this Paperwork Thing, Comrade
While I may have just elaborated on the frustrations one may face while dealing with Bureaucracy here, I am more grateful for it than anything else. At the end of the day, I realize what these paperwork giants prop up: really, really, cheap transportation and healthcare, both programs which are heavily subsidized by the government here.
Also, as annoying as my bureaucratic exploits may have been, I know that I have been relatively lucky. There are many people I know that have been facing bureaucratic struggles for the past year or so.
As a country that is propped up by 18 year olds with Tavor Assault Rifles, this country is built by 18 year olds, for 18 year olds. That means that government programs here are designed with the poor, frequently traveling freeloader in mind. While that results in a mountain of paperwork, this poor, frequently traveling freeloader doesn't mind.
There ya go, dearest of readers. This concludes the obligatory "bureaucracy is the work of satan" chapter of every aliyah blog. I hope it was somewhat less torturous than the bureaucratic process has been for me. Here is a picture of a tank. This one goes out to you, Mickey Zivan.
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