Letter from Parc Bertrand

by

David A. Harris

Executive Director, American Jewish Committee

June 22, 2001

Wow, was I naïve.  When I first fantasized about a sabbatical year in Switzerland, I had visions of hiking alone in the Alps and, in that pristine setting, thinking about some of the “big questions” concerning the Jewish condition.  Without the daily distractions and inspired by the magnificent scenery, I thought, I could see the larger picture.

It didn’t quite work out that way.

Actually, things were going reasonably well the first six weeks of our year abroad, and I felt pretty confident that I could balance the various pieces of my life—family, professional, and personal—allowing me time to read, study, and, yes, think.  But then Arafat launched his premeditated campaign of violence in September, and things haven’t been the same since.

Knowing that there are just a few weeks left before we return to New York, and recognizing that Arafat is not going to change his stripes anytime soon, if ever, I figured that my morning jogs would have to replace the unrealized Alpine walks as my contemplative time.  In fact, I can’t complain.  Our neighborhood park, Parc Bertrand, is quite special—a well-tended sea of green shared harmoniously by users of all ages.  As a matter of fact, it has an inspiring view of the surrounding mountains, all of which, incidentally, are located in France, to the consternation of the Geneva tourist board. 

But the answers may not necessarily be found in the Alps anyway.  A cartoon in The New Yorker made the point.  It showed a bearded guru up in the mountains sitting Indian-style with a hiker facing him in the same position.  The guru says to the hiker: “If I knew the meaning of life, would I be sitting in a cave in my underpants?”

In other words, if there are answers to be found anywhere, the park may be as good a place as any to look for them.

* * *

It’s said that in politics where you stand depends on where you sit.  That normally refers to whether a given politician or party is in power or in the opposition. 

In this instance, it has to do with the fact that I’ve been sitting in Europe for nearly a year, visiting various countries on the continent and following closely the media here.  That may give me a case of “localitis,” a disease not unknown to diplomats stationed abroad who often see the world through the prism of their particular assignment.  (Lawyers, I believe, use the term “clientitis.”)  Suddenly, the Duchy of Grand Fenwick becomes the center of the universe and needs to be the single greatest foreign policy priority for the diplomat’s home country simply because he (or she) happens to be located there.  I’ll try to steer clear of the syndrome.

That said, and benefiting from my time in Parc Bertrand, please indulge me as I reflect on some of the pressing challenges we are currently facing.

Israel’s safety and well-being is at the top of my list. 

To those who were Pollyannaish about a pending peace deal, surely they have had a rude awakening in the last nine months. 

Many Israelis have sadly concluded that in some respects the current situation eerily suggests a return to 1947-48, when the very existence of a Jewish state was in question.  As Ze’ev Schiff, the respected Ha’aretz journalist, wrote on June 11:  “…Arafat is doing everything possible to turn back the clock and to bring both the Palestinians and the Israelis to the initial stages of the 1948 War of Independence.”

That’s a sobering realization and enormously difficult to fathom, even as we all pray that the prospects for an accord, which both Israelis and Palestinians desperately need, have not entirely vanished.  To drive the point home, one Israeli diplomat told me, “If I thought that peace was an impossibility for the next twenty or forty years, could I find the strength to go on?”   

It may be out of place for a comfortable Diaspora Jew to proclaim confidently that Israelis will somehow find the strength and determination, as they always have, to carry on, defend their nation, and make clear, lest there be any doubt among Israel’s adversaries, that the nation’s will cannot be broken. 

But if I say it, it is principally to remind us Diaspora Jews that Israelis have been shouldering an unimaginably heavy physical and psychological burden. They do so with enormous courage and stoicism, but no one should underestimate the toll. They cannot be expected to carry on alone, even if they will always bear the brunt of it. 

It is Israelis, after all, who face years of military service, decades of reserve duty, daily fear of terrorism, international vilification, and the constant anxiety that the next phone call or television or radio report will bring feared news. 

I try to put myself in the shoes of my wife’s sister and brother-in-law in Israel. 

Deeply committed Zionists, they quietly go about their lives—he as an engineer dealing with the nation’s dwindling water supply, she as a social worker.  They have two children, the older of whom, Omer, was called to the army last fall.  Omer failed the medical test because he was overweight. 

For many in my Vietnam-era generation, this would have been cause for jubilation, but for Omer it was an unmitigated disaster.  He spent the next several months single-mindedly exercising and dieting.  In March he entered the Israel Defense Forces, where he promptly sought admission to one of the elite fighting units.  No sooner was basic training completed than he was assigned to a combat zone.

Omer’s story is repeated every day in Israel.  No doubt he’d prefer to be in front of his computer or traveling in Europe or the United States, but he, like other young Israeli men and women, recognized his responsibility and answered the call to serve his country.  Even at the risk of sounding excessively saccharine, for me the Omers of the world inspire confidence in Israel’s future.

Yet, at the very same time, given the intra-family telephone traffic, I have some idea of what his parents are enduring.  Proud though they are of his military service, they are also living a daily nightmare—at any given moment wondering where he is, what he is doing, and whether he is in harm’s way. And this will go on for at least three years.

In the meantime, our son, Michael, was selected to play on the Swiss national soccer team at the World Maccabiah Games, the quadrennial Jewish Olympics, this summer.  (No, we haven’t defected; eligibility apparently is based on residence, not citizenship.)  Concern about security and fear of terrorism prompted several national teams, led by the United States, to call for the Games’ postponement, although in the end the Americans reversed themselves and agreed to attend. 

For now the Games will take place, but the understandable apprehension among parents and players has not disappeared. How could it?  Still, there is a laudable determination to demonstrate support for Israel and to make clear that the terrorists will not prevail.  That very same thinking prompted the American Jewish Committee to announce a solidarity mission to Israel for July 22-24, which I hope will be oversubscribed.

After all, it is we, the Jews of the Diaspora, who represent Israel’s only permanent ally.  And if we don’t fulfill our responsibility, including political support and travel, then we have left Israel—this miraculous Jewish state that was created after 1,900 years of yearning—to fend entirely for itself. 

Yet, with all the truly remarkable advocacy efforts of the organized American Jewish community on behalf of Israel, I remain dumbfounded at the number of Jews—and not just the young generation but many of my contemporaries as well—who have little interest in Israel and even less sense of the historical moment.  Israel is simply not a significant factor in their lives. 

Speaking to some of these individuals, I’m reminded of the Jewish mother who wanted to teach her reluctant son some new vocabulary words.  “Bubeleh,” she said, “what’s the difference between ‘ignorance’ and ‘indifference’?” He shrugged his shoulders and muttered: “Mom, I don’t know and I don’t care.”

There is no one-size-fits-all explanation for this attitude toward Israel, and I’m not sure that adequate research has been done on the underlying causes of the detachment, though theories abound.  Thanks to AJC surveys, we know the numbers on basic attitudes of American Jews toward Israel, including subgroup data, but we don’t have a sufficient qualitative appreciation of what’s behind the numbers, and we need it. 

To add to the mix, Israel faces not only potent and well-known external threats, but daunting internal challenges as well, many of which simply will not wait for the regional situation to resolve itself.  Indeed, the domestic social circuitry is so overheated that it’s hard to imagine any country confronted with so many issues, on so many fronts, at the same time.

A rapidly increasing ultra-Orthodox population, a seemingly unbridgeable religious-secular divide, a restive and growing Israeli Arab community, and large numbers of new arrivals from the Former Soviet Union who are not Jewish, or only remotely so—not to mention several hundred thousand foreign workers—all raise fundamental questions about the future character of a Jewish state that has never been adequately defined in the first place.

At best, these questions have been dealt with episodically; at worst, they suffer from neglect.  But each of these issues demands attention.  The popular Israeli phrase “yihyeh beseder,” “it’ll be okay,” can’t be the beginning and end of the discussion, any more than a resigned defeatism that says there are no workable solutions, so why even bother.

To illustrate the complexity of these issues, take the case of Israeli Arabs.  Of late, there has been discussion about their second-class status.  Israel has devoted insufficient resources to these communities and there can be no justification for this policy.  Still, the discussion can’t end here.  Some difficult—and uncomfortable—questions must also be asked.

Are current events in Macedonia of possible relevance?  Perhaps.  In this case, an Albanian minority, variously estimated at 25-30% of the population, alleging discrimination in all spheres of life and emboldened by Albanian nationalism in neighboring Albania and Kosovo, has challenged the Macedonian regime. Under certain unfolding circumstances, could the same happen in Israel among Israeli Arabs?  Already we see some Arab Members of the Knesset making astoundingly anti-Israel statements.

Some would argue that Israeli Arabs, for all their grievances, realize full well the benefits of Israeli democracy and economic prosperity and would not wish to risk losing access to these advantages, but recent history has again reminded us of the power of ethnic and religious identity.

Or, there could be another possible scenario.   Given the fact that 30% of all births today within the pre-1967 borders are to Israeli Arab families, at what point might some leaders, asserting that the community is denied full equality in a society defined as a Jewish state, demand cultural or even political autonomy? And what would be the implications of such a development for Israeli sovereignty and national identity?

Moreover, the Palestinian campaign launched in September has unleashed a new wave of anti-Jewish attacks at the United Nations, in Europe, and elsewhere.  With few exceptions, I might add, the international response has been less than heartening.  Consider:

·                            As the Washington Post reported on June 19, “The Zionism and racism debate is back, this time in the preparations for the United Nations World Conference Against Racism to be held at the end of August in…Durban.”  The allusion, of course, is to the infamous UN General Assembly resolution 3379, adopted by the world body in 1975, and finally repealed sixteen years later.

·                            In the negotiations over the final document for the Durban conference, there has been a vigorous effort, led by the Arab world, to remove any reference to the Holocaust and instead to speak of “holocausts.”

·                            In Egypt, which signed a peace treaty with Israel over two decades ago, a government newspaper, Al-Akhbar, has once again defended Hitler.  According to The Middle East Media Research Institute, the paper recently published an article that stated:  “Even if we cross off one zero from the six million and are left with a tenth of the number, it would still seem exaggerated and would have to be investigated…No one can ask why Hitler punished the Jews…The Zionists were a fifth column in Germany, and they betrayed the country that hosted them in order to realize their aspirations.  They had to be exposed…”

·                            Earlier this month, an Orthodox rabbi from Israel was killed on the street in Zurich.  No motive has yet been established, but this is at least the third violent attack in recent years on an Orthodox Jew in Zurich and the Jewish community is apprehensive.

·                            In a leading French daily, Le Figaro (June 7), the president of the International League Against Racism and Anti-Semitism (LICRA) wrote: “Arson attacks and Molotov cocktails thrown at synagogues, attacks with rocks against Jewish schools, racists writings on Jewish-owned businesses, anti-Semitic insults…Where and when are we?  In Berlin in the 1930’s?  No.  In fact, in Bondy, Trappes, Lille, Toulouse, Strasbourg, Bagnolet, Noisy-le-Sec, Meudon-la-Forêt, Paris…in France.” 

Indeed, France’s National Consultative Commission on Human Rights reported to Prime Minister Jospin that in 2000 there was “a stunning five-fold increase in anti-Semitic violence.”

·                            Syrian President Bashar Assad, who libeled the Jewish people in the presence of Pope John Paul II, and who said to Spanish prime minister Aznar that “Israel’s racism has surpassed the Nazis,” is soon to visit Paris and Berlin.  Will he repeat his utterances?  If so, will his French and German hosts also respond with silence? 

By the way, this is the same Assad who was described by Patrick Seale, a leading British expert on Syria, as having “absorbed Western values” during his years studying and working in the United Kingdom.  (Ha’aretz, June 8, 2000)

What I also find very troubling, especially here in Europe, is that the impact of the Holocaust—which should have sensitized governments and individuals to the slippery slope of anti-Semitism—doesn’t always seem to register.  In some ways, it’s as if the Holocaust, which continues to receive a good deal of attention in public discourse, is viewed as a discrete event in history, unrelated either to the contemporary condition of Jews or, for that matter, to the self-identity (and sense of vulnerability) of Israel. 

This issue would require a separate letter, but suffice it to say that, if I am correct, it may be due to some combination of the following factors: (a) the advent of a new century and the symbolic “turning of an historical page”; (b) the rise to political leadership of a postwar generation, leaving only Pope John Paul II, Polish foreign minister Bartoszewski, and a handful of other leading personalities with any first-hand recollections of World War II; (c) the sense that Israeli “aggressive behavior” reveals that when Jews have power they act no better than anyone else, including the Europeans historically; and (d) the belief that the negotiations on financial settlements of the past few years have effectively “closed the books” and allowed the European nations to feel that debts have been settled.

As the challenges facing the Jewish people once again mount, we are slowly declining in number, except in Israel and, for the moment, in Germany (at the expense of Jewish communities in the Former Soviet Union). The reasons are clear and needn’t be repeated here. 

Decisions about family, faith, and children are so sensitive, so personal, that it is illusory to believe that any of us can have much impact on the larger trend or even, in many cases, on those closest to us.  Unless we adopt the policy of French president De Gaulle or Romanian dictator Ceaucescu to encourage births by providing substantial subsidies (and medals)—and I’m not sure how successful they were—we may have no choice but to make the best of a discouraging situation, while hoping for a reversal and ensuring family-friendly policies throughout the Jewish community.

What are the implications of a drop in Jewish population figures?  For one thing, it has a demoralizing psychological impact on the Jewish people globally.  For another, in small communities it may mark the end of Jewish life, as we have already witnessed in some European cities and also, if for very different reasons, in several southern U.S. towns.  Third, it could erode the perception, vital to Jewish interests, of power and strength. 

This last point is especially, though obviously not solely, relevant to the United States.  The role of American Jewry as an effective political force and advocate—on issues ranging from the U.S.-Israel relationship, to the dangers posed by rogue states and terrorist groups, to the protection of Jews in danger—is absolutely vital, indeed irreplaceable in today’s world.

But even as we worry about our numbers, we also have to be concerned about the nagging fissures in our midst—along denominational, national, ethnic, and other lines—that too often sap our strength and divert our time and resources. 

The Talmud teaches us that conflict among Jews led to the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 c.e.  Have we learned anything since, or are we destined to keep repeating our self-defeating behavior?

When a motion to formally recognize Geneva’s longstanding Liberal Jewish congregation (in American terms, “Conservative lite”) was introduced a few months ago—motivated by a desire to unite all the Jews here in the struggle on Israel’s behalf—it was defeated.  And in Europe, Geneva is far from unique in this regard.  Such an attitude makes me wonder how much we’ve actually learned.

Here we are, a tiny Jewish people, some thirteen or fourteen million in a world of six billion, meaning that roughly one of every 450 people on this planet is Jewish. In a few years the ratio will be one in 500.  Today we have challenges and threats galore.  In response, we need an intensified spirit of commitment and cooperation, and a reaffirmation of our common destiny.

I hope I’m not asking for the impossible, but, as they say in Italian, “A estremi mali, estremi rimedi”–“Extreme ills require extreme remedies.”

Note:  This is the eighth in an occasional series of letters written from abroad during a sabbatical year.  Copies of the previous letters—Sleepless Nights (January 2, 2001), Letter from Europe (January 10,2001), Letter from Jerusalem (February 19, 2001), Letter from Geneva (March 12, 2001), Letter from Another World (April 12, 2001), Letter from Bologna (May 21, 2001), and Letter from Madrid (June 11, 2001)—are available by contacting Alina Viera at the American Jewish Committee (e-mail: vieraa@ajc.org or (212) 751-4000, ext. 203).