1 min read
ByStephen Pollard, Stephen Pollard
One of the pleasures of my job is the chance to meet interesting people. This morning, I had an appointment at 11.30 with the Israeli Ambassador.
I turned up early, aware that security would be tighter than ever. I dutifully showed my passport to the police, and was taken to the entrance. The usual gruff Israeli security asked for my name and my business. I was taken inside.
In the building, I was again asked for my name; quite rightly, Israel's security forces are stern. I told them. 'Again', I was asked. So again I told them. 'Why are you here?', I was asked. I told them I had an appointment with the ambassador. 'No', the man replied. 'What is your businesss?'. I repeated that I was there to see the ambassador. 'No you are not. Why are you here?'. I told them, again. 'You are not on the list'. I asked them to call his office, and his staff would verify that I was. 'Wait outside', the man responded, and pointed to the door. So I moved towards it. He put out his hand, I thought to open it, but in fact to push me out. I was walking, so I didn't stumble, but had I been still I might well have fallen down.
Ordinarily I'd have left after that, but they still had my passport. I called the ambassador's office; whoever answered promised to sort it out and was very apologetic. So I waited. And waited. And waited.
For another 25 minutes, in fact, until I decided enough was enough. I called the ambassador's office again; no reply. The next time the door opened - there was a steady stream of visitors - I demanded my passport and left.
Here's the thing: if I was such a risk, why invite me in to the embassy in the first place? Israeli security is clearly not as bright as it's cracked up to me. You check someone's credentials out before you let them in, not after.
There are not many people who can claim to have been evicted from the Israeli Embassy. Who'd have thought that the editor of the JC would be one of them?