TEL AVIV — It is primary season in Israel, and the creaky Labor Party, hemorrhaging support and desperate to project energy and vitality, has invited its 44 candidates for Parliament to a college campus for a night billed as speed dating with hundreds of voters.
At the front of a classroom sit an array of typical center-left candidates — a longtime incumbent, a well-known journalist, a leader of the Druze minority — and one who is like no candidate ever seen at this kind of gathering: an ultra-Orthodox woman.
The woman, Michal Zernowitski, grew up in a religious party that does not allow female candidates. The political parties supported by most of her neighbors in Elad, a bastion of ultra-Orthodoxy, belong to the right-wing governing coalition that she abhors.
Ms. Zernowitski, 38, has chosen a different path. It is hard to imagine a more arduous one. And yet she seems to relish the steep uphill climb.
Again and again, as the audiences move from room to room, Ms. Zernowitski waits her turn, smiles, stands and delivers a five-minute stump speech that turns heads and opens minds.
She rails against the state-funded but privately run ultra-Orthodox, or Haredi, education system, where, she says, “your background” and “who you know” determine “who gets into the good schools.” She recounts how she became a trailblazer as an ultrareligious woman in tech, but laments how her children are stuck “in the same place I was before.”
She blasts the Haredi parties, which she says are a half-century behind the times on women’s rights, gay rights and many other issues, and the right-wing government over which those parties hold outsize sway, because she says it ignores problems affecting Haredi communities for fear of antagonizing its coalition partners.
And she explains, like an emissary from another planet, to urban hipsters who may never have talked with their black hat- or wig-wearing neighbors, that a “revolution” is underway among the ultra-Orthodox: The “new Haredim,” as she calls them — younger, worldlier people who use smartphones and commute to diverse workplaces in the big cities — are hungry for change, dying to engage with and be embraced by broader Israeli society, and ready like never before to break ranks at the ballot box.
“There’s a huge gap between what the ultra-Orthodox establishment is doing and what the people want,” Ms. Zernowitski says.
A man rises with a question for all five candidates: How can we bring more people with skullcaps into Labor? He means: Is there a way we can bring more of the Orthodox into such a heavily secular party, given that religious observance generally goes hand-in-hand with right-wing beliefs?
But a woman sitting nearby jumps in: “If Labor wants to change its image,” she says, “it’s Michal.”
At the very top, Israeli politics is consumed with the fate of Benjamin Netanyahu, the embattled prime minister, in April’s elections. But at the local level, the identity politics that divides Israelis in myriad ways — Arab and Jewish; Ashkenazi and Mizrachi; pro- and anti-settlement; secular and religious; left, right and center, and so on — has been producing unexpected results, nowhere more so than among the Jewish religious right.
In Beit Shemesh, a fast-growing ultra-Orthodox center, thousands ignored their rabbis’ orders and helped elect a woman mayor in October. In Bnei Brak, where Ms. Zernowitski was raised, Mr. Netanyahu’s Likud party won two seats, a signal achievement on a city council long dominated by Haredi parties. And in Telzstone, a tiny Haredi enclave on the outskirts of Jerusalem, an upstart who took on the rabbis’ anointed candidate in a special mayoral election last month earned 40 percent of the vote — a seismic shift, despite falling short, for a population that has long exerted power by voting in lock step.
The overwhelming majority of ultra-Orthodox still identify with right-wing policies, experts say. But those who do not are making their presence felt: In April’s elections, Adina Bar-Shalom, the daughter of the founder of one of the main Haredi parties, is running for Parliament on a social-justice platform and is widely expected to join a centrist ticket.
Ms. Zernowitski — who in keeping with modesty strictures wears a wig, but one so subtle it is impossible to notice — sees herself as embodying the generational yearnings of ultra-Orthodox voters who, unlike forebears who saw the land of Israel as holy but were uncertain about the state, want to feel more fully a part of the country in which they are citizens. “They’re trying to integrate into Israel and leave their ghettos,” she said.
As an advocate for women, too, she has an added motivation to break out of the confines of the Haredi world. After she finished a radio interview recently, she said, the station brought on a sitting Haredi lawmaker who said that women did not belong in politics just as they did not belong working at a garbage dump, “because politics is garbage.”
Actually getting elected, however, would require something approaching a miracle: Ms. Zernowitski’s chosen party, Labor, is in a shambles. Some polls show it winning just seven seats in the Knesset, down from 18 in the current government; one new poll suggested it might not win any seats at all. The primaries will therefore be a blood bath; any newcomer would be lucky to earn a winnable spot on the party’s ranked list among the returning incumbents, and many are battling for the chance.
So Ms. Zernowitski talks up the “tens of thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands” of modern Haredi voters she says are waiting for a candidate like her — and begs Labor voters to take a leap of faith. “I believe that if you open the door, these people will come and vote,” she says.
The experts say she is unlikely to test that premise.
“She has no chance,” declared Gilad Malach, an expert on the ultra-Orthodox at the Israel Democracy Institute. But he said Ms. Zernowitski, if ahead of the curve, was nonetheless onto something: The Haredi parties are calcified and vulnerable to breakaway voters, he said.
“On the day that an ultra-Orthodox representative will be successful outside the classic political parties,” he said, “there’s a chance more people will choose that party because it works.”
At a Labor candidates’ night in Jerusalem, Ms. Zernowitski addressed a roomful of activists and retirees who snapped up her brochures. Afterward, Izzy Almog, 81, holding his cane, smiled up at her from his seat.
“Don’t be offended, but I don’t know what your chances are,” he said. “But you’re a long-term investment.”
Ms. Zernowitski has been around politics long enough to know how tough it can be. As a youngster she knocked on doors for one of the biggest Haredi parties. She even protested against the Oslo peace accords.
But in her 20s she came to regret the divisiveness she said the right wing was sowing. Both Arabs and the ultra-Orthodox are often scapegoated, she said. And the Palestinians, she said, deserve self-determination: Leaders of both sides “should go into a room and not come out till they have a deal.”
Her passion, however, is for addressing her own community’s ills: Schools where children are taught Torah and Talmud but not math, science or history. Adults who come of age and find they are incapable of holding down a job.
“Economically, the only solution is to give it up,” she says — to leave the ultra-Orthodox lifestyle — “but most Haredim don’t want to give it up.”
“People are saying, ‘We don’t want the next generation to end up like us,’ where at 18 you have to go learn 12 years of an education in six months,” she said, driving to Tel Aviv at the wheel of her Hyundai hybrid. “But when we get to the politicians, there’s nobody to speak to,” she added, referring to Haredi lawmakers.
“It’s not only that they don’t support us, they’re against us,” she said. “They want everything to stay the same, because they have a lot of power and they don’t want to let their power go.”
Ms. Zernowitski was part of the first class of women at a technical college for the ultra-Orthodox. She learned coding, got a job in tech and moved up from developer to project manager over 15 years. She married a lawyer and is raising four children, ages 2 to 11.
But her trajectory easily could have been different, she said, citing the stereotype of religious women with big broods and low-paying jobs, if any: “That could’ve been me. I could’ve been the preschool teacher with 10 kids.”
At the speed-dating event in Tel Aviv, the responses to Ms. Zernowitski were sympathetic until someone brought up public transportation on the Sabbath, which the ultra-Orthodox oppose but many nonreligious Israelis support.
“I think everyone wants Shabbat to be a little different,” she began.
“Don’t kid yourself!” a woman shouted from the back, and the room erupted in approval.
Ms. Zernowitski kept her poise, waited for the shouts to subside, then explained that each town should be able to decide for itself, but that there should at least be minimal Saturday transit service for those who need or want it.
As the last of the crowd filtered out, Ms. Zernowitski was mobbed. Her sign-up sheet had 28 new names. Women in jeans and leggings — clothing she wouldn’t be seen in — clamored to say hello, as did young men.
Finally, with all the other candidates long gone and a janitor hovering outside, Amiram Alon, 18, ran out of questions. “You’re the newest thing in the party,” he told her. “You’ve got my vote.”B:
大小数中特规律【此】【刻】【的】【中】【原】【九】【龙】【城】【中】，【四】【大】【巫】【族】【首】【领】【一】【个】【个】【眉】【头】【紧】【锁】，【看】【上】【去】【十】【分】【的】【忧】【愁】。 “【大】【哥】，【现】【在】【灵】【族】【的】【四】【个】【小】【崽】【子】【越】【来】【越】【猖】【狂】【了】，【居】【然】【扬】【言】【要】【灭】【了】【咱】【们】【四】【大】【巫】【族】！【这】【口】【恶】【气】【我】【实】【在】【咽】【不】【下】【去】！”【月】【族】【族】【长】【恼】【怒】【不】【已】，【因】【为】【前】【几】【日】【的】【一】【次】【交】【手】【之】【中】，【他】【们】【月】【族】【又】【损】【失】【了】【三】【个】【长】【老】！ “【大】【哥】，【现】【如】【今】【天】【下】【已】【定】，【这】【天】【下】【九】【成】
【奎】【妮】【的】【动】【作】【很】【快】，【她】【只】【回】【去】【了】【两】【天】，【第】【四】【天】【就】【从】【自】【己】【老】【师】【所】【在】【的】【小】【岛】【上】【返】【回】【了】【莫】【沙】【彻】，【又】【来】【到】【嘉】【一】【家】【里】。 【她】【带】【来】【了】【麦】【格】【尼】·【斯】【科】【尔】【的】【邀】【请】，【麦】【格】【尼】【邀】【请】【他】【去】【参】【加】【一】【个】【元】【素】【学】【派】【内】【部】【法】【师】【的】【聚】【会】，【准】【备】【将】【论】【文】【作】【为】【聚】【会】【上】【的】【一】【个】【议】【题】，【供】【大】【家】【来】【讨】【论】。 【这】【既】【是】【为】【了】【让】【大】【家】【群】【策】【群】【力】【指】【出】【不】【足】，【同】【时】【也】【是】【一】【个】【预】【演】，
“【我】【没】【事】【了】，【可】【以】【没】【必】【要】【住】【你】【家】【了】，【麻】【烦】【你】【直】【接】【把】【我】【送】【回】【我】【家】。”【沈】【瑶】【冷】【冷】【的】【说】。 “【好】。”【林】【思】【远】【回】【答】【的】【干】【脆】。 【沈】【瑶】【住】【进】【林】【思】【远】【家】【的】【时】【候】【本】【来】【就】【是】【空】【着】【手】【的】，【现】【在】【要】【走】【也】【用】【不】【着】【回】【去】【收】【拾】【什】【么】【东】【西】，【说】【起】【来】【也】【还】【真】【是】【方】【便】。 【只】【是】【沈】【瑶】【怎】【么】【也】【没】【想】【到】【林】【思】【远】【会】【回】【答】【的】【如】【此】【干】【脆】，【是】【不】【是】【之】【前】【被】【他】【缠】【着】【已】【经】【成】【了】
【听】【到】【李】【晓】【的】【这】【句】【话】【全】【场】【沸】【腾】，【稍】【微】【年】【轻】【一】【点】【观】【众】【无】【不】【是】【在】【尖】【叫】【起】【哄】，【弹】【幕】【上】【也】【是】【刷】【着】【满】【屏】【的】666、【牛】【哔】【等】【词】【汇】，【谁】【也】【没】【想】【到】【李】【晓】【真】【敢】【在】【歌】【手】【这】【个】【舞】【台】【上】【玩】【这】【一】【手】。 【舞】【台】【上】【大】【屏】【幕】【里】【面】，【方】【边】【缅】【眼】【角】【带】【泪】，【做】【足】【了】【心】【里】【准】【备】，【也】【不】【敌】【他】【的】【一】【句】【我】【想】【再】【给】【你】【唱】【首】【歌】。 【方】【边】【缅】【太】【投】【入】【了】，【才】【忽】【然】【想】【起】【一】【旁】【的】【孙】【晓】【黎】，大小数中特规律【又】【是】【一】【阵】【寂】【静】，【羽】【凤】【拱】【手】【道】：“【属】【下】【愿】【往】!” “【你】【们】【呢】？”【陈】【一】【凡】【淡】【淡】【瞟】【了】【他】【一】【眼】，【对】【其】【他】【人】【问】【道】。 “【属】【下】【愿】【往】!” “【属】【下】【愿】【往】!” 【众】【人】【稀】【稀】【落】【落】【的】【回】【答】【道】。 “【那】【好】，【给】【你】【们】【一】【天】【时】【间】，【去】【吧】!”【陈】【一】【凡】【挥】【手】【道】。 “【一】【天】？【这】【是】【不】【是】……”【众】【人】【又】【瞪】【大】【了】【眼】【睛】，【这】【可】【是】【驱】【逐】【一】【位】【十】【方】【天】【域】【中】，
“【主】【子】，【快】【逃】【吧】，【南】【门】【快】【守】【不】【住】【了】，【明】【军】【要】【进】【城】【了】！” 【文】【渊】【阁】【大】【学】【士】【范】【文】【程】【神】【色】【慌】【张】，【涕】【泪】【横】【流】，【跪】【倒】【在】【多】【尔】【衮】【面】【前】，【后】【脑】【勺】【上】【的】【猪】【尾】【巴】【辫】【微】【微】【上】【扬】，【像】【极】【了】【爱】【情】。 【朱】【雀】【火】【箭】【燃】【烧】【了】【半】【个】【辽】【阳】【城】，【除】【了】【辅】【政】【王】【多】【尔】【衮】，【几】【位】【不】【在】【汗】【王】【殿】【的】【贝】【勒】【全】【都】【幸】【免】【于】【难】，【清】【军】【退】【无】【可】【退】，【一】【场】【恶】【战】【在】【所】【难】【免】。 “【召】【集】【所】
【一】【个】【月】【后】。 “【指】【挥】【官】，‘【变】【身】’【任】【务】【完】【成】。” 【叶】【天】【星】【的】【报】【告】，【让】【叶】【世】【善】【兴】【奋】【无】【比】。 “【快】，【变】【身】【给】【我】【看】【看】。”【叶】【世】【善】【急】【切】【道】。 “【我】【们】【只】【研】【究】【出】【变】【身】【理】【论】，【但】【想】【要】【实】【现】，【还】【需】【要】**！”【叶】【天】【星】【道】。 “【哦】【对】。” 【叶】【世】【善】【恍】【然】，【立】【即】【让】【系】【统】【录】【入】。 “【资】【料】【完】【善】，【可】【录】【入】。” “【录】【入】【中】……【录】
“【你】【是】【和】【陈】【大】【人】【一】【起】【回】【来】【的】【吗】？” 【她】【的】【眼】【神】【似】【笑】【非】【笑】，【带】【着】【略】【微】【的】【嘲】【讽】。【姬】【沐】【有】【片】【刻】【失】【言】。 “【是】” “【呵】，【子】【书】【姑】【娘】【当】【真】【是】【没】【脸】【没】【皮】，【你】【的】【夫】【君】【都】【死】【了】，【你】【竟】【然】【还】【和】【别】【的】【男】【人】【勾】【搭】。” 【云】【绵】【厌】【恶】【的】【看】【着】【眼】【前】【的】【两】【个】【人】。 “【云】【绵】!【注】【意】【你】【的】【言】【辞】。” 【没】【想】【到】【的】，【这】【次】【影】【沐】【呵】【斥】【她】【之】【后】，【云】【绵】【竟】【没】【有】