Miklatim (shelters) in Israel are objects within the environment that are easy to ignore. These concrete bunkers that exist in the event of an attack have become, over time, a part of the natural landscape. They litter the region in several forms and colors, and while the older miklatim can be seen freestanding like large trapezoidal outhouses, modern versions are situated within the depths of high rise apartment buildings, waiting, albeit not necessarily prepared for the rush of civilians in the case of an attack.
The shelters are old relics from a period of fear, from a time of national insecurity, when a flying bomb could land in one's backyard. Watching newsreels from the 1950's, we laugh when schoolchildren, during bomb-drills, calmly take shelter beneath school desks. Twilight Zone marathons on television show what the politics of fear did to the public, and what they still can do. After NYC was attacked in 2001, it was easy to scoff at the futility of a color-coded warning system.
Responses to shelters differ by environment. In Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, shelters function as large storage closets. Modern versions have supplanted the fear of bombs with the fear of chemical gas. Basements of old buildings are looked at as viable shelters from flying bombs.
Walking into an underground shelter can be calming. The solitude is created peaceful by bombproof walls, even with the knowledge that unpredictable carnage could suddenly befall the world outside. In the event of power outages, phosphorescent strips of red, green, and yellow tape adorn the outlines of doors, ladders, pillars, and water tanks, and the glow is unreal. The old, heavy air is palpable, and in the layers of dust, the footprints of previous visitors are preserved.
Shelters in urban environments function as a refuge for a neighborhood in the event of an emergency. In many cases, situated in the center of a public garden, shelters are surrounded by benches where couples eat lunch, and by sandboxes where children play. While some of these shelters have been locked up for years, dormant and vulnerable to natural elements, graffiti tags, or the murals painted by children, many have been converted to function as community centers for after-school hang-outs, synagogues, and even dental offices.
The less populated regions of Israel retain their older shelters. In one kibbutz alone, Deganya Bet, there are over twenty shelters of a wide variety of forms. Most are barely discernible through the camouflage of vines, flowers, and shrubs, but the characteristics common to shelters are there: the cylindrical air vents, and heavy rusted doors.
Each city's shelters have their own characteristics. Haifa's shelters are drab and grey. Qiryat Shemona's are lively and colorful. Many shelters in Bait Sha'an resemble Sol LeWitt's wall paintings.
The state of Israel is young, but it exists today because of its tenacious will to survive, and because it builds upon its past, re-using instead of discarding. The signs pointing toward shelters are as common as fire hydrants, and the traces of an old mentality coexist with Israel's modern power. While at times it seems the shelters have been forgotten like unkept monuments covered in pigeons, these bomb shelters are still squatting around, waiting for the next big event.
