BINGEING ON ECSTASY

Growing numbers of Israelis are downing the little pills that induce
hugging, happiness and manic dancing. How long can the high last?

At 3 in the morning, Elon Daizada is hanging out in front of Allenby 58, one
of Tel Aviv's hottest dance clubs. With his spiked yellow hair, black jeans
and white patent-leather shoes, he's preening before a flamboyantly dressed
bouncer, hoping to be admitted. Inside, the earsplitting thump of techno pop
is shaking the foundations of the club, which is at the center of Israel's
thriving rave culture. Tattooed, pierced--and in many cases fueled by the
drug ecstasy--the clubbers writhe with abandon.
Not long ago, Daizada was dodging Hizbullah guerrillas instead of fellow
ravers. He finished serving his mandatory tour with the Israeli Army in
southern Lebanon late last year, and is proud of his sacrifice. "I love this
land like my own family," the 22-year-old says. "I would die for this
country." But Daizada also reflects another powerful current among young
Israelis: in an era of relative peace and prosperity, they are cutting
loose--often by consuming drugs. Standing outside Allenby 58, Daizada
marvels
at the new Israel. "Something big is happening here," he says. "The old men
can't tell us what to do anymore." Cocking his head, grinning and pumping a
fist into the warm Mediterranean air, he can barely contain his enthusiasm:
"Now we have ecstasy!"

And in record quantities. What began here in the early 1990s as an
underground drug for the artsy Tel Aviv fringe is fast going
mainstream. When the rave scene hit Israel in the mid-1990s, ecstasy,
a mildly psychedelic drug that produces feelings of euphoria, took off
with a vengeance. Though marijuana is still the most popular drug in
the country, ecstasy is catching up, especially among the younger set.
Police seizures of ecstasy have skyrocketed; in 1998 Israeli
authorities seized 118,000 tablets of the drug, most of it coming into
Ben-Gurion Airport from Belgium and the Netherlands, where it is
produced. Last year police confiscated 465,000 hits--a 400 percent
increase.

The drug's growing popularity at home has inspired Israeli dealers to
go global. In recent months, U.S. drug authorities have cracked at
least three major ecstasy rings run by Israelis. In February, six
Israeli nationals were arrested in the United States and accused of
running a multimillion-dollar ecstasy network. Federal drug
authorities will soon make arrests in several other
ecstasy-trafficking cases involving Israelis, a senior law-enforcement
official tells NEWSWEEK. In one case, the Feds have gathered evidence
that the Israelis have been laundering millions of dollars in drug
profits through rabbinical schools in the New York area. According to
U.S. Customs Commissioner Ray Kelly, Israeli syndicates now dominate
the worldwide ecstasy trade.

Ecstasy's global appeal is easy to understand. It's relatively cheap
(about $15 a hit for a high that can last three to six hours). A
synthetic hybrid of the hallucinogen mescaline and the stimulant
amphetamine, ecstasy is not a "dropout" drug like heroin; kids can pop
the little breath-mint-size pills on the weekend and return to work or
school during the week, largely unaffected. Though research indicates
that ecstasy--or MDMA, as it's known to chemists97may cause long-term
harm, including heart and kidney problems or memory loss, it is rarely
fatal.

Still, many Israelis are drawn to the drug for homegrown reasons. Deep
into a peace process that most believe will end well, the country is
finally opening up. The dance scene may be the most obvious expression
of the new openness. Israelis no longer think they have to submerge
their individualism to a collective struggle. "In Zionism we were all
committed to the same cause," says Israeli journalist and social
critic Ari Shavit. "We were always under demand to serve that cause,
and there was always a sense of guilt if we didn't." Put in the
ravers' vernacular: "Israelis are really going mental," says Adi
Shabat, a 23-year-old clubber whose father is a top aide to Israeli
Education Minister Yossi Sarid. Although the drug is illegal, Israeli
law-enforcement officials tend to target the biggest dealers, leaving
the weekend ravers alone. Still, possession of ecstasy--as of heroin
and cocaine--is considered a serious offense, punishable by up to 20
years in prison.

For many, ecstasy helps ease the tensions of this volatile and
fractious society. Users say the drug induces feelings of warmth and
tolerance. Step into a Tel Aviv nightclub at 5 a.m., and you'll see
large groups of sweaty teenagers embracing on the dance floor. The
techno pop may be deafening, but it drowns out the high decibels of
Israeli life. "Ecstasy makes Israelis mellow," says Benny Meir, a rave
promoter from the resort town of Eilat. "To see 600 or 700 people
crowded together like this with no aggression, this is the appeal."

In addition, Israelis like ecstasy because it makes them feel
connected to the rest of the world. On Web sites dedicated to the rave
scene, Israelis chat with Brits, Swedes, Americans and others about
the latest e-vogues. Now Israelis are not only part of this global
culture, they are in its vanguard. The top DJs from Berlin, Amsterdam
and London are spinning their discs in Israeli nightclubs. "The
Israelis are great and grotesque," says DJ Montana, one of the
Netherlands' up-and-coming techno DJs, sipping wine on the beach in
Eilat. "These people know how to party," he says, biding his time
before that night's rave kicks off at about 1:30 a.m.

But while some Israelis clearly relish their admission to the club,
others fret. "There is something sexy about the scene," says Shavit.
"But at the heart of this culture, it says, 'We cannot stand the
Israeli condition'." Even those who embrace the techno-drug culture
have doubts. Guy Osherov, 23, who occasionally hits the clubs, says
the hunger for ecstasy is "an act of desperation," a pursuit of
harmony. "But when Israelis leave the clubs," he says, "they go back
to beeping their horns and shouting. Nothing changes."

Don't tell Elon Daizada, still waiting to get into Allenby 58 as dawn
begins to break. "These are the greatest days for Israel," he says.
Until the high wears off, anyway.