I am taking a much-needed break from Iran, Syria, the American elections and Israel’s growing internal crises to write about something truly important that proves some people in Israel actually think and plan for the future.
When I made aliyah in 1981, I settled in Jerusalem, then lived on a moshav in the Beit Shemesh region in the Jerusalem foothills from 1994 till 2005. In those 24 years, I made thousands of commutes to Tel Aviv on Highway 1, the main Jerusalem-Tel Aviv highway. After coming down from the Judean Hills and passing the Latrun monastery, there is not much in the way of scenery as the green and hilly landscape gives way to the flat and uneventful coastal plain that ends abruptly at Tel Aviv and the blue Mediterranean.
The most striking landmark in the 25 or so miles between Latrun and Tel Aviv has been what was until recently the Hiriya garbage dump, located right off the highway between Ben-Gurion Airport and Tel Aviv. As each year progressed, this mound became a hill, and by the 1990s it reached the proportion of a mountain — at least by Middle East standards. On our weekly trips to visit their grandparents in Holon just south of Tel Aviv, my two eldest daughters would scream out, “There is Mount Garbage.” It seemed a sad testament to how prominent this questionable landmark had become. At these moments, the famous saying attributed to Chief Seattle, “We don’t inherit the earth from our ancestors, we borrow it from our children,” often crossed my mind.
It was never necessary to point out Mount Garbage. Due to the stench, one knew it was nearby before you could see it.
Hiriya began in 1952, soon after Israel’s establishment, when the modestly sized but developing cities and towns of the greater Dan region chose this spot as a centrally located garbage dump, then far away from population centers. Over the years, the dump reached epic proportions. In addition to developing the unbearable stench, the garbage attracted flies, mosquitoes, rats and probably worse. By the late 1990s the expanding borders of Tel Aviv, Ramat Gan, Givatayim, Yehud and other cities were knocking at the less than hygenic gates of Hiriya. But an even more dangerous crisis was created by the area’s highest peak.
Ben-Gurion International Airport is located a few miles from Hiriya. Directly under the landing and take-off approaches, the dump attracted flocks of birds. There were several close calls during these years when birds were sucked into plane engines. The fact that disasters were averted did not make it any less imperative to find a solution.
This ticking time bomb was high on the radar of national and civic authorities long before the 1998 decision to give Mount Garbage an extreme makeover. But it continued to tick away because the relevant national and local authorities could not agree on an alternative site for the garbage of the largest metropolitan area in Israel. In the mid-90s, Ramat Hovav in the Negev finally was selected. Soon after that the Dan regional authority covered the mountain with a 12-foot layer of earth to block the smell and, more importantly, the danger of the birds. Close to 100 wells were dug in and around the mountain to capture methane gas that rotting garbage produces. I will return to the methane gas later.
The question became what to do with a buried mountain of garbage occupying 2,000 acres in some of the most valuable land in real-estate-crazy Israel. Whatever destiny awaited Hiriya, first it had to be cleaned, rehabilitated and reborn. Israel has been a late arrival to the necessities of environmental protection and reducing solid waste, especially compared to where I grew up in the Northwest. Historically, this was largely an issue of priorities and budget limitations, but the urgent need to heal Hiriya bumped this to the top of the ladder.
Arrow Ecology is an Israeli company that developed and patented a cost-effective solid-waste recovery system. After great success in building recycling plants in China, Italy, Australia and Nigeria, the company finally got a call from home. First the captured methane gas was piped to a nearby textile factory, where it provides the power to operate the plant. Second a giant waste-recycling and transfer center was built at the foot of the mountain. The trucks taking garbage to Ramat Hovav stop here to separate the recyclables before continuing on with a reduced load comprised only of nondegradables and nonreusables. This requires fewer trips to a distant dump, thereby saving fuel and reducing pollution from exhaust. Paper, cardboard and organic material such as garden refuse taken out at Hiriya are turned into organic compost and sold. Even the methane gas from the composting process is captured and sold to the Israel Electric Company.
While the immediate problem of cleaning and sanitizing Hiriya was being resolved, it appeared the land would be used to build thousands of new residential buildings. This plan had been approved by various local and national authorities. A long battle against the relevant authorities by various NGOs and the nascent Ministry of Environmental Protection was reminiscent of Ansel Adams’ comment: “It is horrifying that we have to fight our own government to save the environment.” In 2005 the issue was brought before Prime Minister Ariel Sharon, who decided that Mount Garbage would be turned into a park that was a true national asset.
Although not entirely complete, the Ariel Sharon Park has been open to visitors for some time. It features a small amphitheater (with a 50,000-seat auditorium planned for 2014), many miles of bike paths (with a total of nearly 20 miles planned), an artificial lake, hiking trails, bird-watching areas and an educational visitors’ center. Visited weekly by thousands of schoolchildren, the center is run entirely on self-produced, nonpolluting power. Perhaps the most impressive sight is the view of the Tel Aviv skyline, which starts in the south with the old Shalom Towers, continues to Central Tel Aviv’s new high-rises and extends all the way to the skyscrapers of the Ramat Gan Diamond Exchange.
In today’s context of reality programming, this is the ultimate extreme makeover. Next time you fly into Ben-Gurion, just before landing, look down (most likely on the left side of the plane) and you will see a mountain of green parkland that could be mistaken for parts of Washington Park.
Ironically, now that I live in Tel Aviv, I commute several days a week in the reverse direction to Neve Ilan, a few kilometers outside of Jerusalem. On my commute I look at good ol’ Hiriya and I truly feel the meaning of an “Oregonian in Israel.” I can only hope that I will feel this way more often. On this issue at least, I am optimistic. Another example of this phenomenon is the way Tel Aviv’s wonderful Hayarkon Park has been transformed over the past decade.
Mylan Tanzer is a Portland native who moved to Israel in 1981. He was the founding CEO of the first Israeli cable and satellite sports channel. Since 2005, he has launched, managed and consulted for channels and companies in Israel and Europe. Tanzer lives in Tel Aviv with his wife and five children. He can be reached at [email protected].
