17/5/96

The making of a politician

The Institute of Political Science knows our leaders inside out.

    "Good day Mr. and Mrs. Israel and all the ships at sea. This is Scoop Greenberg coming to you live from the Institute of Political Science, with a special pre-election program.
    "With me is Dr. Frank N. Stein, director of the institute. He has allowed us into his laboratory for a privileged peek at the vital work he's doing. Tell me, Dr. Stein, what is 'political science'?"
    "Well, basically, Scoop, it's the creation of politicians through scientific means. We attempt to transform normal men and women into political animals by such methods as mental reprogramming, desensitization, muscular therapy and --"
    "Muscular therapy? What could that possibly be?"
    "I'll give you an example, Scoop. David Levy. For two years he couldn't speak the words 'Bibi Netanyahu.' Everyone thought it's because he hates the guy. Turns out he had a defective lip muscle. We hooked him up to our Gyro-Fasciculator. After 20 minutes his upper lip curled into a smug sneer, he smiled boyishly and stated, loud and clear, 'Bibi Netanyahu for prime minister.' Within hours he was signing a pact with the Likud. Amazing, eh?"
    "Truly amazing."
    "Or take Rabin's chronic wrist problem. He came to us shortly before his appearance on the White House lawn. Said he couldn't bring himself to shake Arafat's hand. He was going to resolve the problem by high-fiving Arafat instead, but we had a go and averted a dangerous diplomatic incident."
    "Wow! You heard it here first, folks."
    "Most of the work we do is rather mundane, I'm afraid. Implanting bafflegab microchips in governmental spokesmen, for instance. Or draining truth serum from ministers. Nickel-and-dime stuff. But occasionally we get a real challenge."
    "Such as?"
    "Well, I won't name names, but some civil servants are sent to us with what is known in the vernacular as sticky fingers. Very hard to cure."
    "What would you rate as your greatest success?"
    "Oh, without a doubt, Esther Salmovitz. She came to us a nobody. And she looked it. We ran her through every politically-correcting contraption we have. Gornisht. We even did an exploratory, inserted probes and pulses, took her apart and put her back together. We were about to admit defeat. My mother happened to stop by with my lunch, a hero sandwich. She took a look. 'Frankie,' she said, 'it's the hair.' We were dumbfounded. Five seconds with her finger in the electric socket and we had ourselves a star."
    "Gee. And what about your worst failure?"
    "Sigh. I was afraid you'd ask that."
    "Well?"
    "Ba-Gad. Such a mensch when he came to us. All he wanted was a simple body-language makeover. He couldn't shrug and open his palms at the same time, nebich. And you know how important that is in Knesset conversation. So I figured all he needed was a simple spring mechanism connecting his shoulders to his wrists. I dunno, maybe I put it in backwards. He walked out of here like Crusty the Clown with an attitude."
    "I understand you made Ramon what he is today."
    "Ha, ha. You should have seen him on his first appointment. Skinny little bent fellow with a long beard. Real sweet guy. Hummed a lot, as I recall. Could have been typecast as the Fiddler."
    "No kidding! Ramon?!"
    "Yup. First thing he says to me is: 'Hullo. I would like to be a prime minister, please.' So I says to my staff, 'Ladies and gentlemen: We are going to create a monster.' "
    "Don't tell me: with the big bolts in the neck and the railroad-scar on the forehead?"
    "Yeah. I read about the procedure in a book once. But I thought this guy should look a bit different, so I added my own finishing touch. The blue eyes."
    "Very nice."
    "His wife sent me flowers."
    "Dr. Stein, there seems to be a, how shall I call it, a sameness to our MKs. They're all so different, of course, but in some mysterious way, they're all so alike."
    "You're right. It's my secret diet. Fattens 'em up, makes 'em look beefy, well-fed. They're all like that, every MK since Austerity ended. Gives the Knesset a certain uniformity, wouldn't you say?"
    "Uh, yeah. But why?"
    "You wouldn't vote for a fellow who's bony. You wouldn't want some farshimmelt-looking creature running a ministry, would you?"
    "I, uh, never thought of it."
    "Take for instance Kessar. When he was chairman of the Histadrut, he looked hungry always. The workers like that. He looked like he didn't earn enough to eat at the company cafeteria. Along comes Ramon, big strapping boy; the workers hated him. And now that Kessar's in the government, all of a sudden he's got meat on his skeleton."
    "Now that you mention it..."
    "Okay, Scoop, let me ask you something: what do the following MKs have in common: Gideon Saguy, Haim Dayan, Shaul Amor, Yossi Katz, Yitzhak Levy?"
    "Are they MKs?"
    "Precisely. They thought they could make a name for themselves without me."
    "Well, that proves something, I suppose."
    "Let me tell you about one of my pet projects: our General Amnesty Program. Years back the army came to us with a problem: too many big-name generals, not enough work to keep 'em all busy. They'd all come to the end of the line, promotion-wise. So we gave one or two a good going-over, got them into the Knesset, and by now it's standard procedure, that's where old soldiers go in this country. Arik, Itzik, Raful, Gandhi, Barak: they'd still be taking American Jews on tours to the Good Fence if not for us."
    "We're running out of time, Dr. Stein. Let me ask you: Shimon Peres is the only Labor leader ever to lose an election -- and he's lost every one he's run in. What can you do to help him?"
    "Don't ask. What we haven't tried. The accent, for instance. We ran 85 hours of Prince Philip's speeches through his brain while he slept. You'd think he was listening to Walesa. We tried a nice square jaw on him; it kept sliding off. Two dozen swashbuckling nicknames; none of them stuck. We put him through a sophisticated transplant program to proportionately invert action and reaction, but his natural decency rejected the procedure. All he really wants to do is change the world, not his image."
    "I see. And Bibi?"
    "Our first made-for-TV award-winner. We managed to acquire a gene from David Brinkley, injected it under Bibi's skin, and pasted on a Haim Yavin trust-me look. Slick piece of work, if you ask me."
    "One final question: You know these politicians inside-out, you know what makes 'em tick. Who are you going to vote for?"
    "I wish you wouldn't ask me that, Scoop."
    "The nation would like to know."
    "Alright. I'll tell you. Golda."
    "Meir?!"
    "Uh-huh."
    "But Dr. Stein, she's..."
    "I know. But I'm working on it."