Israeli Doctors, Arab Patients

Jewish physicians are no strangers to the Arab world; during the Middle Ages, they were highly esteemed in the courts of Arab caliphs and sultans. For obvious political reasons, Israel's Arab neighbors have been unable to take advantage of the Jewish state's abundant medical talent; with 2.5 doctors for every 1,000 people, that nation has one of the world's highest concentrations of physicians. Now, though, in a number of limited ways, the ancient relationship between Arab patient and Jewish healer is quietly being revived across the Middle East's bristling frontiers.

Unable to get help from their own overwhelmed doctors after 15 months of civil war, as many as 100 injured and ill Lebanese a week are slipping across the border to get aid from Israeli doctors. One Lebanese cabby even conducts a regular ambulance run to the frontier. Signs on the Lebanese side direct the sick and wounded to nearby Israeli towns where special first-aid stations have been set up. So far, the Jewish physicians have treated 2,000 Lebanese; some 100 are still recovering in Israeli hospitals. Initially, most of the patients were Christians, apparently because they were not as fearful of reprisals from their countrymen as were others. But these anxieties have diminished as medical needs increased. The Israelis recently let it be known that they would minister to Moslems as well.

Scientific contacts between Jew and Arab have taken place at international medical meetings. The most extraordinary medical dialogue, however, has occurred not face to face but over the air waves. For the past five years, Israeli radio has broadcast to the Arab world a program called Tabib warn al microphone (Doctor Behind the Microphone). Originated by an Iraqi-born Israeli woman named Ilana Basri and broadcast every Friday (the Moslem day of worship), it features a kind of "Dear Abby." During the 30-min. program, Israeli doctors reply directly to Arab correspondents who write in with their complaints.

The program appears to have millions of listeners in many Arab countries; Basri says taxi drivers from Jordan to Abu Dhabi are implored by their passengers to tune in, and Arab men regularly gather round radios in coffee houses in such places as Syria, Egypt and Kuwait. Even though there are no postal links between Israel and Arab nations, Doctor has received some 15,000 letters in the past five years; they are either brought into the Israeli-occupied West Bank by Arab visitors or mailed through neutral third countries. In a typical note, a Jordanian named Kasim Abu Abas complained of dizziness and a pain near his eyes. "I'm afraid it's cancer," he wrote. The Israeli specialist disagreed, explaining the trouble was probably a benign growth pressing on nerves; it could be treated simply with hormones or by surgery. The doctor added that he was prepared to give even more specific advice and care--"if you wish to come to Israel."

Some 1,000 letter writers have accepted that invitation. One was a policeman who came to Jerusalem's Hadassah Medical Center all the way from Kuwait. His family wanted him to marry, but he was worried he might not be able to father any children because of a spinal injury. "I am embarrassed to appeal to an expert here," he had written, "and besides, there is no expert to ask." After physical and psychological tests in Jerusalem, he left for home with the assurance that he was indeed potent.

Unless the Arab patient can afford it, the Israeli government usually picks up the tab. Such generosity is not without political overtones; it not only undermines Arab belligerence but also counters complaints--recently voiced by the Arabs and their supporters before the World Health Organization--that Israel is giving inadequate medical care to Arabs under its own rule. Basri, however, has no illusions about any diplomatic payoff from Doctor. "We're all waiting for peace," she observes, "but the sick can't wait."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.