Strategic Assessment

Introduction

Only
a historical perspective can ultimately determine whether the State of Israel
experienced an existential nadir during the second decade of the 21^st
century or rather a series of passing crises. To be sure, until March 2020,
with the eruption of the Covid-19 crisis, Israel enjoyed considerable achievements
in the first two decades of the new millennium. The economy remained relatively
stable even when many other countries suffered major economic turbulence;
national security stabilized at a reasonable or better state while much of the
Middle East weathered severe upheaval; and in many respects, Israel’s
international standing grew stronger despite the severe criticism from heads of
state and civil society organizations such as the BDS movement. The strategic alliance
with the United States grew deeper, and strong multidimensional connections
were forged with other countries, such as India.

However,
in other realms the situation is much less rosy. The political channel with the
Palestinians, which showed no significant development in years, is blocked. The
national consensus regarding the character of the state and its desirable
future has eroded; some would say it has dissipated to the point where the Israeli
public is practically divided into “tribes,” with more that separates people
and sectors than unites them. The socioeconomic gaps expanded, and terms like “the
State of Tel Aviv” and “center vs. periphery” dominate much of the public
discourse, which has become increasingly unrestrained, provocative, and
contrarian.

Electoral
politics also seems to have reached an impasse, leading to an unprecedented whirlwind
of three election campaigns in one year (April 2019 to March 2020), without a
clear outcome deciding between the opposing blocs. Elections were followed by
even more profound gaps between the blocs, which did not disappear with the
establishment of the emergency government in May 2020. “Right” and “left”
stopped serving as distinguishing analytical terms, mainly in the context of
the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Similar to the “Democrat” and “Republican”
labels in the US or the “Conservative” and “Liberal” labels elsewhere, they now
connote two implicitly opposed views of public life, including attitudes toward
the judicial system, led by the Supreme Court; religion-state tensions and the
proper division between the country’s “Jewish” and “democratic” faces; the
civil status of non-Jews in the State of Israel; the extent of government
involvement in the economy; the status of women; the rights of the LGBTQ
community; and more. Empirical findings show that this is a significant fissure
that cuts Israeli society almost in half, and particularly the Jewish majority
(Hermann et al., 2019). These internal rifts are compounded by threatening
global developments such as the Covid-19 crisis, whose long-term ramifications
are unclear, but which will doubtless continue to cause major tumult in Israel,
as in many other countries.

The Trail offers people a sense, or illusion, of a place that is “clean” of political and social filth, and is a “suspended space” of sorts, where there are only good people and good deeds, untouched nature, and an agreed-upon national heritage.

As
a result, conscious distress and heavy concerns about the present and the
future are prevalent among wide circles in Israeli society (“Israeli democracy
is on the edge of the abyss”), while in other circles there is considerable satisfaction
regarding the changes underway in Israeli society and politics. However, although
some are less concerned about the rifts dividing Israeli society, which they
see as the unavoidable outcome of a positive socio-demographic transformation
of the elite, all groups are showing—for different reasons—a strong lack of
confidence in political institutions and public figures in official positions (Hermann
et al., 2019). This disquiet—which is gnawing at national security from within,
so that it is perhaps considered a “soft” element but with potential to cause
serious damage—has more than once pushed people to want to distance themselves
from the familiar and prevalent and instead search for alternative comfort
zones, whether permanent (such as migration) or temporary. Indeed, studies show
that the phenomenon of backpacking in distant countries developed in the 1970s
largely as a reaction to the desire of Israeli young people to disconnect
following the Yom Kippur War (Noy, 2006). A similar desire for distance from irritating
or burdensome reality, “escapism,” as it were, has in recent years pushed
thousands of Israelis to spend days, weeks, and even months, in other places or
"bubbles"—abroad, in fitness centers, in elegant hotels or luxurious
restaurants, and on the Israel National Trail (INT). The Trail offers people a sense, or illusion, of a
place that is “clean” of political and social filth, and is a “suspended space”
of sorts, where there are only good people and good deeds, untouched nature,
and an agreed-upon national heritage.

The
“Biography” of the Trail

The Israel National Trail 1 (in Arabic, Darb el-Balad, meaning Trail of the Land 2) stretches over some 1,000 km, 3 from Beit Ussishkin in Kibbutz Dan to about 100 meters before the Taba border crossing near the Eilat field school. Walking the trail at an accelerated pace from Dan to Eilat can take about 45 consecutive days, and about 60 days at a slower pace. The two end points are insignificant on their own, and have no “sanctity” of any kind, which is in contrast with pilgrimage trails that always end at meaningful sites such as the Kaaba in Mecca, or in the past, the Temple in Jerusalem. Israel is about 610 km long from end to end as the crow flies, so that the INT, which winds and curves at various points, is almost twice as long as the country. Like quite a few other long trails in the world, mainly national trails, the Israel National Trail is at once organic and artificial, a heritage trail and a nature trail. In other words, it is a combination of natural trails that existed beforehand, with new and planned connecting segments. In addition to the different types of landscapes, surfaces, and vegetation, plans also aimed to encompass many historical and heritage sites that resonate with collective historical memory, in almost all cases the Jewish-Zionist memory.

The
living and the dead are present all the time, and their presence touches the
heart. The trail is scattered with graves and monuments connected to historical
struggles, and even to love. They are always visible in the beautiful vista, as
if the lives of the people are intertwined with the landscapes in which they
lived or which they loved, landscapes that we imagine they wanted to view from
their final resting place. (Gilat, 2011, p. 8)

Although considered a
“national trail,” the INT does not, and never did, have statutory status. Since
no minutes were kept of the planning meetings, it is unclear why no request was
ever submitted for such status, but it seems that the Trail’s planners chose
not to do so, since statutory status requires creating a protected “corridor” along
each path. This would have required expropriation of large swaths of land, and marking
the route would have been delayed by a few years if not decades. Even though it
lacks statutory status, the INT is now considered the “meta-trail” of the trail
network in Israel, and based on this status, it “imposes” its markers on the
trails incorporated within it.

The idea for creating
the Trail was formulated and promoted from the mid-1970s through the early
1980s by a journalist named Avraham Tamir, who was influenced by his trek on
the Appalachian Trail in the United States. It was there that Tamir sensed not
only the pleasure of a long hike, but also of the potential for economic
development that a trail with many trail-lovers could bring, as it would spur
the creation of a support system, including food, lodging, transport, medicine,
equipment, and accessories connected with the trail, and more. In 1984, Tamir
began his efforts toward this modern pioneering project, and contacted the
Secretary of the Society for the Protection of Nature in Israel, Yoav Sagi, who
put him in touch with Ori Dvir, who (until mid-2011) was the Chairman of the
Committee for Israel’s Trails. Dvir was taken with the idea of creating a
national trail, which could provide something of a solution to questions since
the mid-1970s regarding the fundamental nature and purpose of Israeli hiking. Dvir
also understood that the project that Tamir formulated could inject new blood
into the marking system of Israel’s trails, which had been exhausted by the
mid-80s (Rabineau, 2013, p. 228). Tamir and Dvir submitted a proposal for the
Trail project, with a course from Dan to Eilat. The proposal was approved by
the Committee for Israel’s Trails, and the project was launched in 1985.

The
proposed route of the INT was defined according to a set of principles, chief
among them:

a. Diversity: The formative idea of the Trail was to expose individuals to the greatest variety of landscapes, communities, people, religions, and sites.

b. Safety and security: Much thought was devoted in the planning process to the matter of personal safety. This principle, for instance, led to the controversial decision to maintain distance from the Green Line and from areas with dense Arab populations. 4

c. Non-entry into residential areas and urban localities: This principle, which later dissipated with the addition of new walking paths, was central in Dvir’s thought when drawing the original route, although it did not reconcile with the principle of diversity. It encountered fierce criticism from the outset, particularly regarding the fact that the Trail did not enter Jerusalem. There were even those who viewed this as bowing to challenges regarding the legitimacy of Jerusalem as Israel’s capital.

d. Awareness of climate conditions: The planners strove to make it possible to walk on the Trail all year round. Those walking the Trail in one shot prefer to begin in the south during the winter so that they can reach the north when it is warmer, where temperatures are lower and water is much more readily available, or to begin in the north in the summer and end in the winter in the warm and relatively dry south.

e. Starting point: Many reasons were given for the choice of Kibbutz Dan and not the Hermon as the starting point, but it seems that the decisive reason was left unsaid: the unspoken desire to remain within the Green Line. 5

At first, Dvir and
his team tried to draft the route in coordination with various interested
parties. They turned to tour guides, JNF officials, Parks and Nature Authority
supervisors, and guides from the Society for the Protection of Nature in
Israel, asking them to recommend segments that they found important or
interesting. It quickly became clear that the recommendations contradicted each
other, and amounted to a total of 10,000 km! The planners therefore opted to
take the recommendations into account, but to decide on the route on their own.
The plan for the Trail was announced to the public after the marking had begun,
but before it was completed. Avraham Tamir hoped that the marking would be done
quickly enough for him to see the completion of the project in his lifetime,
but the work took more than a decade. Tamir died in 1988, and was not able to
see the end of the road.

In the first stage of
marking, the planners-markers resisted the temptation to set the path along the
Roman mountain road, since such a choice would have directed the path straight
into the heart of the West Bank. It was therefore decided to cut westward. They
moved directly from marking the north to marking the south, and only then to
the center. The main problem in the south was IDF firing ranges. Alongside the
issue of accessibility (firing ranges are open to civilians only on weekends
and holidays), for security reasons, the firing ranges were not labeled on
civilian maps available to those planning the route. The Negev, therefore, appeared
open for marking, but in actuality this was not the case. Consequently, when
the Trail’s markers came to this stretch, it became clear that determining the route
was more difficult and forced than in the north. The result is that significant
portions of the Trail in the Negev are not very interesting, while places of
tremendous interest, important historical sites, and singular communities
remain outside the route.

In April 1995, during
the Passover holiday, after more than a decade of discussions and work on marking
the route, the Israel National Trail was dedicated—at the time with a length of
about 850 km—by President Ezer Weizmann, at a widely-covered festive ceremony
at the Armored Corps Memorial Site at Latrun. It was a distinctly
Israeli-Jewish-Zionist inaugural celebration. Although apparently coincidental,
1995 was a defining moment in the Israeli-Jewish consciousness. There was no
progress in peace negotiations with the Palestinians, and there was a large and
growing wave of Palestinian terrorism that deepened the disputes among the
Israeli-Jewish public regarding the benefits of the Oslo process. The
dedication of the Trail was therefore a kind of “island” of celebratory
national achievement during a sober period.

Despite the
celebration, the Trail encountered significant skepticism. More than a few naturalists
and walking fans in Israel saw it as a gimmick that was destined to fail. They
saw no logic in the choice of a specific continuum of existing trails, their
packaging with uniform markings, and their marketing together as one brand, and
envisioned little that would spur any change in the public’s walking patterns. However,

They
erred in a big way…The Israel National Trail caused a significant change in
Israeli nature walking….All that was done was to package a series of existing
trails in a new context—a single continuous trail from Dan to Eilat. This new
context caused me and many like me to become “Trailists” and to go on an
amazing trek that may well continue for many years. (Merhav, 2013)

Nonetheless, the
official inauguration of the Trail did not put it in the center of public
discourse. In effect, in the first decade of the Trail’s existence, it was
almost “underground,” and few people attempted it. Walking the Trail became
“fashionable” only about 15 years later. The increasing awareness of the Trail
did not take place on its own, but came about due to the tremendous efforts of
a number of people who were smitten with it. Today, the Trail is a major
success: “This trail is one hell of a trail. It’s beautiful. It’s not for nothing
that it’s such a success. It overpowers the Appalachians” (Halfon, quoted by
Goldstein, 2011). In his book, Halfon adds:

The
Trail has won much praise thus far, and deserves it all. Much thought was put
into it. It is diverse and interesting, and manages to capture a lot of this
small country. Its very existence makes it a brand name that creates curiosity
and has sent thousands of individuals into the country’s landscapes—I among
them—who likely would not have done so without it. (Halfon, 2008, p. 130)

In 2003, in the context
of the second intifada, part of the Trail’s route in the Sharon region was
diverted about 30 kilometers westward from the foothills toward the
Mediterranean Sea, moving farther away from the “seam line.” While until then the
Trail took civilians between orchards and fields along the Green Line, individuals
were now worried about being too close to the area. In addition, communities
such as Kochav Yair and Tzur Yigal that previously opposed the erection of
fences around them now demanded surrounding fences, and these demands were met.
This change affected the route of the Trail, and also prompted the Trail to
shift westward.

Beyond the security
consideration, there were additional reasons for various changes. The first is
prosaic: Israel is a growing and evolving country, and the Trail at times must change
in response to developments on the ground. Thus, the pavement of new roads,
mainly in the south, made it necessary to move the Trail, although generally
not very far. Another example occurred in 2000, when approval began for development
of the phosphate mine in Sde Barir near Arad. The site was supposed to be built
along the Trail, which made it necessary to move the route to the edge of Arad—an
adjustment that helps those on the Trail from a logistical standpoint in terms
of supplies for their continued trek. Certain changes to the route were required
by the development of the Trans-Israel Highway (Highway 6), which “ran over”
segments of the Trail near the Eyal interchange.

Another reason the
Committee for Israel’s Trails decided to change the route was the desire to designate
segments for walking only, since over time significant parts of the original
route became multi-purpose, serving walkers, ATV drivers, and bicyclists. Substantive
changes were made to the original route of the Trail in the Negev, given its
proximity to firing ranges on the one hand and to the Egyptian border on the
other. Due to restrictions on entering firing ranges, the original route
included long and boring segments, mainly along Route 40. In retrospect, better
solutions for these restrictions existed than what was adopted at the start of
the process, and the Trail was moved slightly.

The worsening problem
of migrant workers and refugees infiltrating from Egyptian territory, as well
as the concern over weapons smuggling, led to the government decision in 2010
to build a fence along the border with Egypt. The Ministry of Defense demanded that
the Trail be moved again, and parts of it were closed to walkers due to
construction work on the fence. Another change, although less material, was
made on the edge of the Ramon Crater due to the desire of senior officials in
the Society for the Protection of Nature in Israel to direct the Trail to its local
field school so that individuals would visit the place and likely stay overnight.

In December 2017, following
efforts by the director of the Gush Etzion field school, who did not hide the
political motive for his move, Tourism Minister Yariv Levin (Likud) announced a
new initiative called the “Trans-Israel Trail,” which was supposed to lead a
branch of the INT over the Green Line. The new branch, which aroused fierce
debate between supporters of the change from the right of the political map and
its opponents from the left, was expected to traverse the length and breadth of
the country, including the West Bank and Jerusalem. The government’s decision
on the matter was purportedly apolitical, although it was clear that had a
different government been in power, it is doubtful whether the same decision
would have been reached. The decision also called for examining the existing
route, and finding ways to enhance it and make it more attractive to
international tourism. The Ministry of Tourism allocated ten million shekels to
formulate a plan for the old-new Trail—a much higher amount than allocated by
the government for the old route for similar needs. An inter-ministerial
committee was established to discuss this change, and it submitted a final
report. But due to the domestic political upheaval since then, the process was
essentially frozen even before it took shape, and it is doubtful whether it
will be resumed in the foreseeable future.

Another change in the
route was made in the fall of 2019. Following years of discussion and thought,
the INT got a “face lift” with the addition of a branch in the south that runs
through a number of the most beautiful and historic sites in Israel previously
not included, such as Masada and the Dead Sea. The change, which added about 90
km to the route, involved a long planning process, cooperation between many
entities, and extensive investment in the establishment of overnight camp
grounds that now enable walking this segment without the need of outside
assistance. The change also makes it possible to sleep in lodging places of
various levels, from hotels in Ein Bokek to free overnight camp grounds, and
even to reach the start and end point by public transit.

Even the very marking
of the Trail aroused strong disputes of the type that are well-known in other
countries, between the purists who are opposed to the entry of civilians into pristine
nature and those who think that such walks should be encouraged. The most strident
opposition came from a considerable number of guides at the Society for the
Protection of Nature’s field schools immediately when the marking of the Trail
began. In their view, it is worth conserving the culture of walking unmarked trails
that was prominent in the early days of the yishuv, the Jewish community
in the Land of Israel before the establishment of the state, and the hikes in
the Sinai Peninsula when it was controlled by Israel. From a desire to conserve
“untouched” nature, they opposed any move to leave a human footprint in natural
areas. In certain places, their opposition reached the point of erasing and
removing the new Trail markers. In contrast, Ori Dvir and other supporters of
the markers viewed this opposition as a sign of far-reaching professional
fundamentalism, irresponsibility toward those on the Trail, and even ignorance
(Rabinau, 2013, p. 261). Yet even some hikers with more moderate views and hiking
patterns were uncomfortable with the markers, which in their opinion was just
one part of a larger hostile takeover by the nature authorities. A middle
ground was presented by David Michaeli, an educator and writer who leads many walks
and hikes, partly among youth who dropped out of conventional educational institutions
and are in rehabilitative frameworks. In his view, the Trail was marked for two
reasons. The first is positive—the concern over a takeover by foreign real
estate interests of open areas, which are already few and far between in Israel.
The second reason was less noble: the desire of the responsible parties—the
Society for the Protection of Nature in Israel, the Nature and Parks Authority,
and the JNF—to take over these areas themselves (D. Michaeli, personal interview,
November 4, 2014).

Walking creates an intimate connection with a locale, links individuals with the landscapes of the homeland—the trees, rocks, rivers—and thereby enhances loyalty to the national collective.

Why
Walk the Trail?

Two
cultural influences converge to lead individuals to the Trail. The first, the
culture of walking, is global, and the second is uniquely Israeli, reflecting
the Israeli walking tradition.

The
Culture of Walking

Although
it may seem strange today, walking in nature for reasons other than practical
or utilitarian but just for its own purpose was historically—until about 350
years ago—considered dangerous and not worthwhile. Walking for pleasure outside
the household or urban area began to become accepted in the mid-17^th
century, first in Europe, and then in other parts of the world. Walking in
nature as an activity that could purify the mind and shake off the ills of city
life was deeply implanted in the romantic tradition of the 17^th and
18^th centuries. But the leap forward and the expansion to much
broader layers of the public came with the rise of modern nationalism in the 19^th
century. From the outset, modern nationalism exalted walking throughout the
country, mainly in nature. Its proponents understood that walking creates an intimate
connection with a locale, links individuals with the landscapes of the
homeland—the trees, rocks, rivers—and thereby enhances loyalty to the national
collective.

Walking
in nature and the unmediated acquaintance with native landscape were considered
leading educational tools for strengthening patriotism. Therefore, from the 19^th
century onward—the golden age of nationalism—walking became an activity that
national and nationalist forces supported and encouraged enthusiastically. The
developed European system of trail markers grew along and in direct connection
with the rise of modern nationalism. In particular, the German national
movement glorified walking in nature as part of the connection to the soul of
the nation, which essentially lacked a unifying historical infrastructure and
was divided by factors such as competing religious allegiances (Gertel, 2002).

Beyond
nationalism, the development of a leisure culture also contributed to the
popularity of walking in nature. Walking the Israel National Trail is a classic
leisure walk of the type that has become increasingly common since the second
half of the 20^th century. Moreover, leisure walking is a specific
type of tourist activity. Tourism is a leading social, cultural, economic, and
even political phenomenon of steadily rising volume and importance. It is now
the most common reason for movement among people, and has become an economic
gold mine and an integral part of mass culture. Tourism in most cases involves
some kind of travel and distancing from the place of residence and routine for
a limited period that is generally defined in advance. It can be domestic or
international: people who remain in their country but travel away from their
places of residence and their routines and consume tourism services are also
tourists, according to the accepted understanding of this term. The Trail is
therefore a prime tourist element according to every parameter, and most of
those who walk it are Israelis.

Hiking,
or trekking, is most common among young people who are in good physical
condition, although it has become an activity common among older people as
well. In the past, and to a certain extent today, extended tourism for its own
sake was mainly the purview of those with means, who could allow themselves to
take time off from life’s routine and constraints in order to pursue and
finance the pleasures of travel or hiking—at a distance and to a distance. With
the democratization of life in general, the matter of tourism has also become
the domain of broader classes of society, although income is still a major
restriction on the ability to disconnect and move about, particularly for
prolonged periods. Studies show that walking and hiking tourists are on average
more educated (an increase in education usually brings with it a higher
awareness of nature and the environment) and have higher than average income
(or potential income) (Timothy & Boyd, 2003).

Gender
also plays a role, and more hikers are men. Feminist senior researcher Cynthia
Enole contends that tourism is as much ideology as physical movement; a package
of ideas about industrial, bureaucratic life and a set of presumptions about manhood,
education, and pleasure (Enloe, 1989).

A
survey by two researchers from the University of Haifa, Nurit Kliot and Noga
Collins-Kreiner, conducted for the Ministry of Tourism in the context of the
Israel National Trail, found that there are more male hikers (57 percent) than
female (43 percent). The primary age group of those on the Trail is 20–29 (42
percent), while the second-largest age group is those aged 50–59 (21 percent). In
other words, people in the intermediate age range, who are occupied with
building careers and families, are on the INT less than those younger and older.
Eighty-three percent were born in Israel. Almost two-thirds of them are not
religious, 10 percent define themselves as religious, and the rest (26 percent)
as varying levels of traditional (Ashkenazi, 2016).

When it comes to tourism, the choice of trails is a function of consumer satisfaction, which is thus a main factor in the decision of where to walk, including among tourists. Creating an enjoyable and satisfactory experience is critical in meeting demand levels, since tourists and those looking for leisure activity in nature currently consider known parameters regarding the trails that are open to them. These include the quality of the trail; the attractions and message it contains, such as nostalgia or representation of some tradition; crowd level; and accessibility. The same survey also showed that the average level of satisfaction among INT walkers is high, but is higher regarding the segments in the north and center than in the south, where walking conditions are more difficult and the services available to those on the Trail are less readily available.

Walking was one of the building blocks of the Israeli civil religion and a main link in the design and solidification of the renewed ties between the Jewish nation in Israel and the territory under its control.

The
Israeli Walking Tradition

The renewal of the
Jewish community in Israel, including the drive to create a “new Jew,” led to a
strong desire for traveling through the land among members of the yishuv.
Walking was one of the
building blocks of the Israeli civil religion and a main link in the design and
solidification of the renewed ties between the Jewish nation in Israel and the
territory under its control (Liebman & Don-Yehia, 1983). The
dominant institutional-educational concept from the yishuv period onward
was that walking enables people not only to get to different places, but also
to feel the connection with places of national historical importance in its
land. Walking was considered an educational tool from scientific, pedagogical,
national, and social standpoints, with the relative measure of each differing
as historical circumstances changed and as the dominant group and its
educational and political aims changed. Since that time, walking and hiking in
Israel have been an educational tool no less than a part of the leisure
culture. This was Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s message in his speech at
the Herzliya Conference in 2010:

I
am talking about educating children about the values connected to our identity
and heritage, teaching children to know our people’s history, educating young
people and adults to deepen our ties to one another and to this place.…Our existence…depends,
first and foremost, on the knowledge and national sentiment we as parents bestow
on our children, and as a state to its education system. It depends on culture;
it depends on our cultural heroes; it depends on our ability to explain the
justness of our path and demonstrate our affinity for our land—first to
ourselves, and then to others…to connect…people to our homeland through their
feet—through becoming familiar with the country, travelling the country. (Prime Minister
Netanyahu’s speech, 2010)

There are those who depict
the history of walking in Israel from the establishment of modern Zionism until
the Six Day War with three concentric circles. The innermost circle comprises
people from the initial waves of immigration, who walked in order to search for
historic roots, mainly to discover places mentioned in the Bible (Berlovitz,
1996). Walking was also intended to help create the “new Jew,” which was
understood in those years as the opposite of the diaspora Jew. As such, it was
supposed to cultivate the desired qualities of the new Jew: courage and daring,
physical strength, intimacy with nature, navigation skills, acquaintance with
the landscape, and a connection with the land. As historian Anita Shapira said,
“Jews never liked climbing Everest or crossing the English Channel, so hiking
is the exact opposite of the diaspora Jew. The hiker is the manifestation of
the new Jew” (Shapira, quoted by Milner, 1994). Walks and hikes provided a
conscious distancing from the religious model of pilgrimage, since those on
trails did not have a sanctified specific destination and observed no accepted
religious practice. Instead, what guided them was informed thinking about
nature and education, very similar to the European thought of that period about
walking.

At the core of the walks
was scientific-modernist thought, joined by a desire for leisure and a
framework for children to be outdoors, and the walks created a cognitive and practical
“new map” of the country. Within a short time—though not without struggle—the
objectives of the walk were expanded from an educational-scientific or games-pedagogical
purpose to a tool for strengthening nationalism, with a connection to the past,
the present, and the future (Prawer, 1991, p. 51). At this stage, walks were
already intended to “Judaize” the space by identifying Biblical locations and
giving Hebrew names to places, plants, and wildlife. The Bible served those on
trails as both a title deed and a passport, enriching them also by encounters
with new communities established by the pioneers, which highlighted the
achievements of the new waves of immigration and further strengthened the
connection between the past and the present. Thus more than embodying a
geographic theme, the walk was a tool to instill a conceptual, cultivating
pride in the achievements of Zionism, socialization, and national indoctrination
(Avisar, 2011).

The first generation
of sabras (technically, a fruit; the term is used to connote those born in the
Land of Israel, who display a prickly exterior and soft interior), children of
the first waves of immigrants, created a second circle, in which the thought
was already directed toward the establishment of Jewish sovereignty. In
parallel, the influence of the international Scouts movement also garnered
strength in Israel. British Scouting, copied in Israel to a considerable
extent, offered young people a “youth society” and romanticism: landscapes,
camping, and national content. Through activities that instilled knowledge of
the land, the formal (schools) and informal (youth movements) education systems
strove to implant in young people the ideal that the land could be possessed by
repeated visits to its trails. Youth were supposed to “conquer” the land with
increased activity that was sometimes risky. Moreover, knowledge of the land
became not only a tool for Zionist education of principles and values, but also
preparation for service in the Haganah and the Palmah. The Palmah hikes filled
quite a few functions: demonstration of a Jewish presence in distant and
unsettled areas; knowledge of every corner, path, and trail in the Land of
Israel west of the Jordan; survival training, physical challenges, and development
of physical fitness; social cohesion; prolonged field exercises; shooting exercises
that could occur only in the desert, far from British eyes; and partial
imitation of the battlefield. Navigation in the wilderness that had not yet
been worn down by previous hikers was, in the eyes of Palmah members, a magical
challenge.

At the same time, an
intergenerational reaction developed in Israel. Among the first native-born
generation, initial signs developed of an erosion of nostalgia for the
historical Biblical landscapes. While the Bible was never relegated to a mythical
past (Shafran, 2013), here and there the young people began to develop a
defiance against its forced takeover of the landscape. As part of that defiance
toward the previous generation, the walks and hikes of the first indigenous
generation became a new alternative to the pioneering “working the land” of their
parents, in both the physical and spiritual sense. In the late 1930s and early
1940s, Israeli youth discovered the Judean desert and turned the story of
Masada—which for 2000 years of exile had been relegated to the margins of
Jewish memory—to the epic of the generation (Zerubavel, 2012). The story
focused on the courage of the besieged, their successful resistance of the
Romans for three years, and their readiness to fight, and even to die, for
their freedom.

The third circle of
Israeli walking was formed in the first decade of Israel’s independence. The
establishment of the state created a sovereign framework with clear borders
that limited the potential space for movement but did not reduce the centrality
of walking the land. Walks of various degrees of difficulty therefore became a
tool for the new country to train its youth, and served the state’s two main objectives:
settlement along the borders and security. Memorial sites to soldiers who fell
defending Jewish settlement in the Land of Israel became trail landmarks. In
the 1950s, during Moshe Dayan’s term as Chief of Staff, vigorous walks became
an important part of the induction ceremonies of new IDF recruits. Following
the massive immigration of the 1950s, trail walking also became an important
tool in implementing the melting pot concept and in the establishment’s attempt
to integrate the immigrants. That same period featured the increasing
legitimization of individual and small group walks, as opposed to larger groups
that until then were the prevalent trend. Almog (1997) holds that the new
phenomenon reflected the transition that took place in Israel during those
years from rituals serving the needs of the collective, which where therefore
done in groups, to individual activities. The Nabatean site of Petra in Jordan
was then a type of “Everest” for young Israelis, who were prepared to risk
their lives to see the place that was considered part of the relevant Land of
Israel, even though it was located east of the Jordan River (Shafran, 2013, p.
473).

After the Six Day War, the Israeli culture of walking changed. Following the conquest of the Golan Heights, the West Bank, East Jerusalem, the Gaza Strip, and the Sinai Peninsula, new geographic and cognitive horizons opened up to walking enthusiasts.

As part of
encouraging walks with a national character, during the first three decades of
the state’s existence, many marches were organized in Israel with thousands of participants.
The most important ones were three- and four-day walks that were very popular
from the 1950s until the 1970s, particularly annual events that were organized
and financed by state bodies. The events took place around the Passover holiday,
and thereby “corresponded”—even if not explicitly—with the pilgrimage to
Jerusalem during the Temple periods. Alongside the timing, which may have also
been a function of weather considerations and vacation times, the connection
with the traditional pilgrimage was reflected in the fact that on the last day
of the event, everyone came to Jerusalem and marched through its streets:
students, soldiers, and groups from organizations and factories, as well as
large delegations from abroad.

After the Six Day War, the Israeli culture of walking changed. Following the conquest of the Golan Heights, the West Bank, East Jerusalem, the Gaza Strip, and the Sinai Peninsula, new geographic and cognitive horizons opened up to walking enthusiasts. The general euphoria of victory and the beginnings of a messianic perception that burst forth among parts of Israeli society after the war turned new sites into attractions. Tens of thousands traveled to Jebel Musa, which was now called Mt. Sinai, and to Bedouin communities that were given Hebrew names, such as Dahab, which became Di Zahav, one station in the ancient Jewish nation’s travels in the desert following the exodus from Egypt, and Sharm el-Sheikh, which became Ophira. This “Judaization of the landscape” continued the process that took place at the start of the 20^th century. At the same time, a change in the youth culture in the late 1960s and early 1970s, marked in part by the penetration of Western urban youth culture, lessened interest in walking in Israel, and demanding hikes in particular. The Labor Federation, which was losing its strength, gradually stopped supporting Land of Israel study groups in the local authority workers councils. Moreover, Land of Israel Studies programs were established at the universities then, and the academic approach more than once rejected the popular approach of getting to know the land, and for its own motives turned walking into mainly a pedagogical tool. In those years, the magic and attractiveness of the youth movements also dissipated, and their membership numbers fell drastically. This too led to a reduction in the scope of walks that were organized.

These elements that
weakened the status of classical Israeli walking were sharpened by the Yom
Kippur War, which shocked the Israeli-Jewish collective consciousness and undermined
the desire to continue hiking as before. An ambivalent attitude toward the
State of Israel and its leaders developed in large and influential sectors of
the Israeli-Jewish public, and this was extended to clear Zionist ideas such as
knowing the land. In some parts, there was also a marked deterioration in the walking
ethos that had developed previously in the country. From the 1970s, and
particularly after the Yom Kippur War, backpacking in remote areas became a
rite of passage and enabled the voluntary disconnection from home that many
young people sought to experience (Avisar, 2011). While it is hard to determine
with certainty the extent to which the trauma of the war and the soldiers’
protests that followed it, as well as the return of the Sinai, had on the
growth of backpacking abroad, these phenomena were close enough in time for us
to posit a causal connection.

Yet even then, walking
in its national cultural form maintained its structure and content to a large degree,
along with its function as a main ideological agent (Yafe-Markowitz, 2011). A
wide variety of walks and hikes that include learning about subjects connected
to the land—geology, zoology, botany, geography, history, and archaeology—were
offered by many of the public bodies that deal with formal and continuing
education, as well as by commercial entities. The IDF continued to invest about
one-quarter of its education budget on tours to increase knowledge of the land
(Prawer, 1991, p. 2). Private groups, and even families, also often used study
materials in preparing for organized walks, or the services of professional
guides to help fill the content of the walking experience.

Although the formal
education messages that accompany walks and hikes have not changed dramatically,
the tastes and preferences of Israeli walking consumers, and particularly the
youth, have shifted profoundly over time. Many schools therefore begun to gradually
do away with demanding walks, and have instead adopted what is called
“attraction outings,” mainly recreational and leisure activities. Although the
Ministry of Education prohibits visits to recreational sites, the original walking
model has in fact eroded, since there is no demand for it among the students. Moreover,
since the 1980s, the organization of school trips has, in many cases, been
handed over to commercial entities, despite the clear prohibition of this by
the Ministry of Education. As a result, school administrations and public
educational entities such as the Society for the Protection of Nature in Israel
have less influence on the contents of the walks (Avisar, 2011).

The
Israel National Trail as a Place of Refuge

Following a review of
the development of the Israel National Trail and its two underlying traditions—the
global and the domestic Israeli—the Trail as a site must also be considered,
since it is far more central from a cognitive and practical perspective than
any other trail in Israel.

A “site” is created
when people feel that a particular spatial point has significance and is not “just
there.” A site is defined by a constitutive story—a history—that connects it
with those in it or who strive to be among those in it. This is the basis upon
which Zali Gurevitch declared that:

A
site is never neutral. It is saturated and weighed down with history and
politics, with stories of life. The Israeli site is even more so, since from
the outset, it has been organized to a great extent according to opposing sides,
wars, struggles, conquests, and histories, not just of the land and its
residents, but also of the language, labor, and wilderness. (Gurevitch, 2007,
p. 14)

“Israel of the Israel National Trail is a separate country. It is beautiful, quiet, connected to its land and its landscapes, marked by solidarity, with people who are generous and happy to help. It is a very optimistic experience to do the entire Trail. You cross the country and meet only good people.”

David
Michaeli explains the nature of the Israel National Trail as a site as follows:

The
trails were there even beforehand as shepherd’s trails, elevation lines, ravines,
main roads whose names were changed many times over the generations, water
sources, hostels, archaeological sites of ancient cities, ancient communities,
new communities, and government systems. Even the directions were there….What
wasn’t there beforehand was the concept of the entire Trail as an Israeli
space. When it was designed, this concept created a new activity space….The
Trail creates a new space while also delineating it.…It is a nature reserve of
the internal space, whose boundaries shrink along with the trend of
compartmentalization, fencing, privatization, and supervision of Israel’s
external geography that is becoming ever more compressed. (Michaeli, 2008, pp.
31, 33)

This unique nature of
the Trail is not hidden from those walking on it, and by way of contrast, it
inspires optimism among some who are wont to display acrimony or bitterness. Thus,
Raanan Shaked, a journalist whose writings exude existential unease, was “smitten”
during his short experience on the Trail with uncharacteristic poeticism: “Israel of the Israel National Trail
is a separate country. It is beautiful, quiet, connected to its land and its
landscapes, marked by solidarity, with people who are generous and happy to
help. It is a very optimistic experience to do the entire Trail. You cross the
country and meet only good people” (Shaked, quoted in Bloom, 2015, p.
4). The same is true of his colleague Ronen Bergman, who expounded on what he
discovered on the Trail: “The common denominator of love of walking and
landscapes among those on trails, the difficulties of nature and the inherent risks
that create concern and solidarity—because of all these, the State of Israel, when
you look at it from the Israel National Trail, seems like a good and fun place.
Much better” (Bergman, 2015, p. 57). It is not just the phenomenon of “good”
people, but also a sense of solidarity, something that many believe has been
lost in Israeli society, that is ostensibly renewed on the Trail: “On the Trail
there is a sense of brotherhood. There is something in the people who walk on
the Trail that is absent in others. The love of Israel, perhaps” (Y. Diskin,
personal interview, January 22, 2015).

A young hiker,
already disillusioned with life in Israel, said:

In
view of my disappointment and disillusionment with the state and its politics,
the Israel National Trail was an opportunity for me to reignite my faith in
Israelis….Through the Trail, I learned to love the land, to find good people,
and to see the unique landscapes. It’s a little like going abroad and
disconnecting from the day-to-day pressure, but without leaving the country.
(Guttman, 2011)

The
place is also considered a habitat for “good” Israelis:

Trail
walkers are those who believe in our country, in our land.…Unlike other walkers,
they don’t litter. The Trail walker builds his route and dreams about it, and
builds on it, and takes this period in his life. It’s not just, “Let’s go, I am
leaving.” It’s as if the Trail is yours. You have taken ownership of it. I came
to the Trail, I thought about it, I dreamed about it, I will not ruin it for
myself or those who come after me. (D. Perl, personal interview, November 2,
2014)

Cleanliness is often
discussed in the context of the Trail, as one of the features that set it apart
from the rest of the country. Journalist Ben-Dror Yemini:

On
the day we walked there, there were a great many people on the Trail. It was
not clear whether the Israelis had changed, but it was clear that the route was
devoid of all litter. There were no candy wrappers, no disposable cups, no
empty cans, or plastic bottles. There are beautiful Israelis, and if they only
want it, they also have a beautiful land. (Yemini, 2015, p. 20)

The most common sentiment to emerge from materials written about the Trail and interviews conducted for this study is the somewhat nostalgic love for the land or the homeland, generally against the background of disillusionment with the prevailing reality.

Penina Shore, founder
of the Ziknei Hakfar band and organizer of the “On the Israel National Trail—Diary
of a Trek” musical and whose home is right next to the Trail, echoes this sense:
“There is no litter on the Israel National Trail. There is something that commands
anyone who enters this path to behave accordingly. The people who walk the
Trail are better than others in the
country. Even more so than other trails…Good people bring each other. Above all
else, there is quality” (P. Shore, personal interview, October 30, 2014).

The most common sentiment to emerge from materials
written about the Trail and interviews conducted for this study is the somewhat
nostalgic love for the land or the homeland, generally against the background
of disillusionment with the prevailing reality. Through the walk as
a secular ceremony, Trail walkers choose to be tourists in their own land with
a desire to get to know the land and its landscapes, and to deepen their
connection with it (Twitto, 2010). Kliot and Collins-Kreiner suggest that while
walkers and hikers around the world largely share universal characteristics
that include physical, athletic, and spiritual elements of personal
competition, in Israel, local-particular motives of “partnership,” love of the
land, and ideology are especially prominent. A study they conducted shows that
90 percent said that walking the Trail allows them to identify with the Land of
Israel and strengthens their connection with Israel. Just 10 percent attributed
a low level of importance to this motive (Ashkenazi, 2016). The Trail as a site
therefore provides a reference framework for the story of the path: “It
provides a reason to go” (Halfon, 2008, p. 130). With that, walking also leaves
room for a personal interpretation of the collective ethos:

The
person searching for his way on the Israel National Trail for his own purposes,
in the name of adventure, in the name of crisis, in the name of life, and so
forth, carries a message and a concept together with his backpack, and together
with his steps he realizes the Israeli space. The walker on the Trail is an
ambassador representing a living, commercial, cultural, political, complex, and
functioning system of his time. And at the same time, he is an ambassador of
himself, an observing artist that is removed from the existing order as a
pilgrim…The system enables a permitted extra-territorial space to a certain
degree. (Michaeli, 2008, p. 31)

Among older people as
well, there are endless examples of the drive to connect with the land
reflected in their walking on the Trail: “There is no doubt that the Israel National
Trail, even if it is not in the premier league of global trails, even if others
are longer, higher, and more mythological, is unequaled in engrossing you and
leading you to such a long history” (Halfon, 2008, p. 26). And: “The more than
we walked and went deeper into our small trek between the trees of the Carmel
Forest, the more calm there was. We were struck by the simple joy of someone
who returned to his place and whose breath is filled with the ancient scent”
(Sarna, 2015, p. 30).

As such, the Trail
exposes a very interesting phenomenon regarding the consciousness of the
Israeli public, or at least of those walking on it. In contrast to the high
level of public criticism of institutional entities and the messages coming
“from above,” in the hearts of those walking there also beats patriotism free
of irony. For instance, contrary to the Zionism that is typical of her approach
to other subjects, psychologist and journalist Varda Rasiel Jackont shows a lot
of softness and conformity in her attitude to the fallen and their monuments. In
an article, she connects the subject and walking on the Trail with national-personal
history:

There
are many monuments included in this segment of the Israel National Trail, which
stretches from the Rosh Ha’ayin area until the Burma Road. These monuments,
commemorating soldiers who fell in the War of Independence, bring me back to
one of the formative experiences of my childhood. I remember the day when Arab
countries attacked the yishuv. I was a seven-year-old girl, and because
of the gunfire that came from Jaffa, I was afraid to go close to my father’s
carpentry shop that was near Herzl Street. (Rasiel Jackont, 2015, p. 54)

For many among the mainstream of the Israeli-Jewish public, the Israel National Trail serves as a place of refuge from all that truly, or ostensibly, was once good and has since “broken” in the country and in society.

The need for the
Trail as a connecting link, in view of the weakening of the sense of solidarity
in Israeli society, is reflected well in the following passage:

To
a certain extent, the Trail was a trek in pursuit of the individual. Even the
many meetings that we held along the way flowed in this direction, in many
cases unintentionally. In this era, in which there are many who tend to vilify common
action, this group provided evidence of the fact that such action increases and
empowers the personal experience, beyond its being a tool for doing things that
none of us could do alone…The small fire that burned in the hearts of each of
us consolidated into a large flame that lit the way for us from Eilat to Dan. (Something
that will remain…Passage on “the Trail”: A Group Journey Book)

In conclusion, for many among the mainstream of
the Israeli-Jewish public, the Israel National Trail serves as a place of
refuge from all that truly, or ostensibly, was once good and has since “broken”
in the country and in society. In this place—whose “bubble-like” nature most
visitors don’t burst, or they ignore—“everything is great.” The landscape is
pleasing to the eye; the air is clear; the people are good; the garbage doesn’t
pile up; politicians are nowhere to be found; the social gaps are erased; and
all the concerns of the day are as if they didn’t exist. Walking on the Trail
constitutes an adventure to a mostly imaginary and harmonious past, pure in an
ideological and social sense, as well as a mostly unconscious step to escapism
from the annoyance, pain, and inconvenience of the present. The inability or
lack of desire to deal with the fundamental, existential collective problems,
and the choice to escape, even if only temporarily, are reflected not only in walking
the Trail. There is a similar distraction involved in increased brand-name
consumerism, frequent travel abroad in order to “charge one’s batteries,” the
high rate of people watching reality shows on television, worship of physical
fitness, the extreme investment in the food and wine culture, and more.

In this sense as well, the Israel of today is no different than many other societies in the world, which also do not rush to deal with their underlying problems that become more complex with each passing year. In turn, this phenomenon leads many to expand the definition of national security to areas that in the past were not included. There are many reasons for this zeitgeist, which has been exacerbated by the Covid-19 crisis currently gripping the world, and this is not the place to delve more deeply into them (see, for instance, Kissinger, 2020; Fischer, 2020; and Meyer-Resende, 2020 6). However, two of those reasons are particularly prominent in the Israeli case of recent years: the lack of national leadership to advance an agreed-upon vision of the future that is convincing and exciting, and the prevailing view that the problems on the national agenda are so difficult that they defy resolution. “The Israel National Trail is perhaps the only place in the country to which we can truly escape. To get out of your life and to start walking, more and more, until you reach a place—not necessarily physical—where you can stop. A logical country must have such an outlet, for those who need it, who are lost, who are searching, who are leaving. For us” (Shaked, 2015, p. 34).

There is perhaps nothing better than ending with lines from David Grossman, who immortalized the Israel National Trail in his seminal book To the End of the Land: “And the land is beautiful, with all its scars and all its bitter memories, and its endless memorial monuments. It is beautiful and bountiful, and contains so much consolation, in the moments when it allows you to forget the evils and the ills that have infected it, and in the places where it is landscape and open space, and open hearts” (Grossman, 2008, translated from the Hebrew).

References

Almog, O. (1997). The sabra: A
portrait. Am Oved [in Hebrew].

Ashkenazi, E. (2015, January 5). One-third
of those walking on the Israel National Trail: Evidence of ownership of the land.
Walla News. http://travel.walla.co.il/item/2920684 [in Hebrew].

Avisar, O. (2011). It’s good to walk for
our country: Developments in the mythology of walking in the view of national
Zionist education. In The walk as an educational and values-based tool,
pp. 45-54 [in Hebrew].

Bergman, R. (2015, April 17). Song of blossoming.
In our beloved land. Yediot Ahronot Special Insert [in Hebrew].

Berlovitz, Y. (1992). Stories of journeys
in the first aliyah. In Y. Berlovitz (Compiler) and R. Zeevy (Ed.), Wandering
in the land (pp. 343–372). Ministry of Defense Publications [in Hebrew].

Bloom, G. (2015, March 20). This trail starts
here. Editor’s Note: In our beloved land. Yediot Ahronot Special
Insert [in Hebrew].

Enole, C. (1989). Bananas,
beaches and bases: Making feminist sense of international politics.
Pandora.

Fischer, J. (2020). The politics of the pandemic. Project Syndicate. https://bit.ly/3710XAv.

Gertel, G. (2002). The school hike
and its significance for teachers and students, 1920–1980 (Doctoral
dissertation). Tel Aviv University. Tel Aviv [in Hebrew].

Gilat, T. (2011). Mapa guide to the
Israel National Trail. Mapa [in Hebrew].

Goldstein, U. (2011). Trail in
another land: Journey on the Israel National Trail. Israel Television.
Channel 1 (movie) [in Hebrew].

Grossman, D. (2008). Now, when the book
is finished. New Library website. http://www.newlibrary.co.il/article?c0=14039 [in Hebrew].

Gurevitch, Z. (2007). On Israeli and Jewish
place. Am Oved [in Hebrew].

Guttman, G. (2011, September 5). A trail
for all ages: The walking season on the Israel National Trail starts in
September. Globes [in Hebrew].

Halfon, E. (2008). A searching trek.
Ahuzat Bayit [in Hebrew].

Hermann, T., Anabi, O., Cubbison, W., &
Heller, E. (2019). The Israel democracy index, 2019. Israel Democracy
Institute.

Kissinger, H. (2020, April 3). The coronavirus pandemic will forever alter the world order. Wall Street Journal. https://on.wsj.com/2US0LOp.

Liebman, C., &
Don-Yehia, E. (1983). Civil religion in Israel: Traditional Judaism and political
culture in the Jewish state. University of California Press.

Markovich, D.Y. (2011). The annual walk from an ethnic perspective: The case of the Kedma School in Jerusalem. https://bit.ly/2UUIEaA.

Merhav, S. (2013, May 13). Learning management
from the Israel National Trail. The Marker. http://www.themarker.com/magazine/1.2019403 [in Hebrew].

Meyer-Resende, M. (2020, March 25). Only democracy can fight epidemics. EUobserver. https://euobserver.com/opinion/147867.

Michaeli, D. (2007). Desert
wilderness therapy. Madaf [in Hebrew].

Milner, A. (1994, April 29). What fun! It
almost killed us. Haaretz [in Hebrew].

Noy, C. (2006). Israeli backpacking since the 1960s: Institutionalization and its effects. (Theme Issue) Tourism Recreation Research, 31(3), 39–53. https://doi.org/10.1080/02508281.2006.11081504.

Prawer, A. (1991). The walk’s way to
know the land, 5648–5678: The beginnings of the educational walk in the Land of
Israel in view of the educational perception of the first schools. (Master’s
thesis). Hebrew University of Jerusalem, Jerusalem [in Hebrew].

Prime Minister Netanyahu’s speech at the Herzliya Conference (2010, February 3). Prime Minister’s Office website. https://www.gov.il/en/departments/news/speechherzliya030210.

Rabineau, S. (2013). Marking and
mapping the nation: The history of Israel's walking trail network (Doctoral
dissertation). Brandeis University, Graduate School of Art and Science,
Waltham.

Rasiel Jackont, V. (2015, April 17).
Stones of memory. In our beloved land. Yediot Ahronot Special
Insert [in Hebrew].

Sarna, Y. (2015, March 30). Leopard, dragon.
In our beloved land. Yediot Ahronot Special Insert [in Hebrew].

Shafran, N. (2013). The red stone:
Forbidden trips to Petra. Yad Izhak Ben-Zvi [in Hebrew].

Shaked, R. (2015, March 30). Time machine.
In our beloved land. Yediot Ahronot Special Insert [in Hebrew].

Something that will remain…Passage on “the Trail”: A Group Journey Book. Published privately.

Timothy, D., & Boyd, S. (2003). Heritage
tourism. Pearson Education.

Timothy, D., & Boyd, S. (2015). Tourism and trails: Cultural, ecological
and management issues. Aspects of Tourism, 64. Channel View
Publications.

Twitto, S. (2010). Go walk the land: Walking
the Israel National Trail as a leisure activity (Master’s thesis).
University of Haifa, Haifa [in Hebrew].

World Tourism Organization (1995). Collection of tourism expenditure statistics. Technical Manual no. 2, p 1. https://www.e-unwto.org/doi/book/10.18111/9789284401062.

Yemini, B. (2015, March 20). Fear of
heights. In our beloved land. Yediot Ahronot Special Insert [in
Hebrew].

Zerubavel, Y. (2012). Return to the
Bible: Walking and memory in the tourism discourse in Israel. in M. Hazan and
A. Cohen (Eds.) Culture, memory, and history: In acknowledgment of Anita
Shapira, Vol. 2: Israeli culture and memory (pp. 498–522). Tel Aviv
University and Zalman Shazar Center for Jewish History [in Hebrew].

Additional References

Dvir, O. (1993). Without the markings ritual (response to article by Menahem Marcus). Nature and Land, June, pp. 5-6.

Eichnold, D. (2015, March 20). History on our shoulders. In our beloved land. Yediot Ahronot Special Insert.

Marcus M. (1993). It’s also possible without
the markings ritual. Nature and Land, March, pp. 42-45 [in Hebrew].

Ministry of Education, Youth and Society
Administration (2011). Walking as an educational tool. https://meyda.education.gov.il/files/noar/tyulim_1.pdf [in Hebrew].