Fighting is a serious business. That being said, military parlance these days can sometimes resemble that of a carnival huckster’s bark: Witness the Extraordinary Rendition! Marvel at the Amazing Disappearing Weapons of Mass Destruction! Cower Before the Axis of Evil! But while American policy-makers tend to maintain whatever relationship they might keep with the occult behind the curtain, their Israeli counterparts have just come out with it.

Liran Zeligman is the Israel Defense Forces’ first official magician — a soldier who spends a good part of every day performing for all manner of military personnel in a specially designed tux. G&P caught up with this cheerful conjurer on a rare day off. He was recovering from the previous night’s celebration of his twenty-first birthday.

G&P: Happy birthday. How was the party?

LZ: It was great. I had many magician friends come. Everyone shared magic tricks. A lot of people were actors. Some were dancers, artists. But I have some normal friends as well.

G&P: Did you grow up a magician, or did the IDF train you in the dark arts?

LZ: I started out with magic at the age of four. I saw a magician onstage. He was a tall guy with a tux, playing a half-god for the audience. I wanted to be that guy. My mother took me to courses and magic shops, I went to lectures, trained, and took theatre and dance lessons. I started performing at a very young age and became a wonder kid at this magic — doing talk shows, interviews.

G&P: So it was like a calling?

LZ: I worked hard to develop my stage presence. Many magicians have a persona. I myself am confident and outspoken. Onstage, I am just magnifying my true personality. Anyway, by 18, I was already playing a lot of shows and big theaters in Israel.

G&P: And then, at that age, being an Israeli, you joined the Israel Defense Forces?

LZ: Yes. Up until that point, my life had been about magic. I thought when I entered the military I would start something new. Many [military jobs] were offered to me. I could have gone into physics and development. I was very good at physics in school, but in the army, it meant I would not be out until I was 29, and I didn’t want that.

G&P: So you said no to physics, and the IDF said, “OK, then be a magician”?

LZ: No, I was made a boot camp commander. I was in charge of 100 new recruits. You show them the discipline, the basics of guns, grenades, and tactics. I was one of the first people young soldiers met when they entered the army. I really liked the position. I am a very educational person. I feel like I make better company out of the people around me.

As a commander, I also learned interesting lessons about body language that I later incorporated into my magic show. You know, the first impression of you comes eighty percent from how you look and move, rather than what you actually say. People judge you for about five seconds, and they have their idea. So if you stand out front and massive, they know they shouldn’t mess with you.

G&P: How did your job shift from commander to magician?

LZ: I used to love to go dancing a lot. About a year ago, I went to meet friends at a Tel Aviv club. There is a big parking problem in Tel Aviv. Not as big as in New York, but it is a huge problem. If you find a parking space, you are the king of the world. Anyway — no parking near the club. Finally I found a spot and it was pretty far away. To get to the club, I could either climb a fence and take a short cut or go the long way. I took the short cut, and as I was climbing the fence I brushed against a pole that had electric cables hanging above it. One of the cables was touching the metal and the whole fence had become electrified. I got electrocuted — I was stuck to the fence for what felt like ages but was actually only eight seconds. I tried to free myself, to open my hands, but I was paralyzed. I thought I was going to die because I couldn’t let go. I was alone and my friends were far away. I said to myself, no way. I decided to give 110 percent, and managed to free myself with my leg. I lost consciousness, fell to the ground, and was brought to Tel Aviv hospital.

G&P: How long did it take you to recover?

LZ: I was in therapy for six months — physical therapy and psychological, since it was a really big trauma for me.

G&P: And then you went straight back into the army?

LZ: I had the option of leaving. Many people suggested I should. But since I’m a Taurus and we are stubborn people who go for our goals, I decided to finish it like a king.

I knew I couldn’t go back to my old position. When I was in therapy, I thought to myself, “If magic gives me such joy, why not try to convince the army to let me serve as a magician?” I went before the redirection officer in the ground force unit. She asked me what I wanted to do. I smiled at her and said, “Actually, I’d love to be a magician.” She was sure that I was pulling her leg, but I showed her my old business card and a magic trick. After that she was convinced that I was really a magician. She became more serious and said, “There has never been anything like this in the army, and the possibility that it will happen is almost zero.” But she said she’d try.

G&P: What magic trick did you show her?

LZ: I asked her to think of the first guy she kissed, and then I revealed his name.

G&P: That’s a pretty good trick. How did you manage it?

LZ: I can’t tell you. I am a government worker and can’t give [away our] secrets.

G&P: Obviously the trick worked.

LZ: Well, I had to go through many interviews. I needed to prove myself to other people in the army. After I did that, they said, “We want to see the response from the soldiers, from the officers.” My first show was scheduled in the exact place where I learned how to be a commander.

G&P: Were you performing for the people who had trained you to be a commander?

LZ: Yes, and, believe me, it was difficult. Think about it: you are performing for your boss for whom you have respect and you need to overcome him — to be more than him. For the hour of the show, you become the boss. But it was good, and after that, shows kept coming. Now, every day, I do at least one show, sometimes two. I have no choice of how many, where, or what for. I have only the choice to decide what goes into the show itself.

G&P: Are your military shows different from the sort you might do for a civilian audience?

LZ: Of course. The show I’m running for the army is something I call “Extreme Magic.” Israelis, for magicians at least, are the toughest audiences ever. Ever! They have chutzpah and they just want to see you fail as a magician. Even big magicians from the U.S. — like Max Maven, the mentalist — who come to Israel, most of them fail miserably. They don’t know how to manage an audience like that.

G&P: It must be especially difficult with soldiers, who are in a combative state of mind.

LZ: That’s right. Most Israeli soldiers are exactly at the age of criticism and skepticism, and they’re really cynical. It is tough. I manage because I come to them full of good spirit, and I’m really nice and adorable, I think.

G&P: So what’s in the army show?

LZ: The show is a combination of great magic, theater, humor, standup, and dancing. The audience sees these miracles happen onstage. I read their minds. I do something really creepy with a voodoo doll — I take someone from the audience, I take a piece of their hair and put it in the voodoo doll. Then I move far from the person, and what I do with the voodoo doll the person onstage feels. If I put fire underneath the doll, the person feels like he is being burned. This is magic totally different from making a handkerchief disappear.

G&P: That is a lot of power to wield over an audience …

LZ: Yes. And it is a bit of a problem when I perform with religious guys, because then I need to explain that I just use many interesting and complicated techniques to achieve the effect onstage. It has nothing to do with dark, evil powers.

G&P: Has there been a specific incident when someone religious became upset with you?

LZ: No, I prepare for it. I try to get to know my audience before I start the show. If I see there are many religious guys in the audience, or even just one, I’ll change the show. I can spot them easily, even in uniform.

G&P: Have you ever had an audience member who refused to come onstage?

LZ: Many times I deal with soldiers and their commanders because they have to be together all the time for discipline reasons. Of course, what the soldiers love the most is when I get the commanders onstage and do something a little bit funny. We have a hula-hoop game in the show. It’s funny to see a commander, stiff in his body language and speech, go to the stage and jiggle away. Some commanders are hesitant, but I manage to get about ninety percent of them to do it — they want to show that they are human and not just evil guys there to ruin soldiers’ lives.

G&P: Can you think of one particularly difficult show?

LZ: Conditions are not always ideal. There was one show on a boat carrying soldiers who came from Russia or other countries. When I was ordered to perform the show, I said I needed a closed room, but when I got there, the boat was completely open and wind was everywhere. Things from the show blew out to the sea. It was a terrible experience. But the soldiers felt for me as a performer.

G&P: Are you allowed to do political humor?

LZ: Never. It’s one of the biggest no-nos in the army. The army has a great influence on the individual. Like, a commander can never discuss politics with the soldiers. If I express a political opinion in my shows, it could seem like the army has this opinion.

G&P: What other restrictions are there?

LZ: There was a big discussion about my outfit. As a magician, I have to hide some things in my pockets — I have a specially designed suit. My superiors decided that I can perform in my magician’s outfit, but all the preparation for the show needs to happen in standard uniform.

Also, I have to perform shows with no sound system sometimes because the rooms [in which] I am asked to do certain shows are super secret. This is when I am performing for the guys who run special-ops on [terrorists]. They are in dark rooms, underground; they are guys who don’t see sunlight, who never leave the compound. Sometimes, I am put in a van and blindfolded. I sign a secrecy form [stating] that I cannot tell where I’ve been.

G&P: Have you covered all army bases yet?

LZ: There are many places that I still haven’t performed in. Even if I do a show every day for a year and a half, I won’t have covered every base in the country. So you can understand how big the army is in Israel. And how big a job it is to be its only magician. &