"Kill the messenger" has always aptly been applied to Peace Now for delivering the difficult news about Israel not being a state that respects its own laws, but a news article in HaAretz reveals that, all along, Peace Now has been doing a fantastic job watching over and reporting the abuses of the Israeli government of its own system of laws with regard to settlement activity in the West Bank.
I, for one, am very proud to be affiliated with Peace Now, a decision I made as a high school student during the first Lebanon War.
Please read this excellent reporting job by HaAretz and contribute to the discussion. Then go to the Peace Now web site and make your contribution to support this important work.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Waltz with Bashir: One viewer's thoughts
As an Israeli and a Jew, I was very proud that Israel could make itself so vulnerable and be introspective in broad daylight about such a serious and disturbing topic. This is a testimony to Israeli democracy at its best.
The movie itself probably resonates differently with every viewer. On the literal level, this is a compelling voyage of one individual grappling with his past through a documentative narrative that weaves between the two forms of story telling with great ease. The animation is rich and in-vocative. The merger of comic-bookesque two dimensional animation and 3-d environments was a visual feast for the eyes. The music set the tone of the narrative and would probably stand very well on its own, and the combination of all these factors led to a product that was greater than the sum of the parts.
Every person seeing this film will have a different experience. That sounds like a simple statement, but it isn't. I saw the movie for the first time in Tel-Aviv and discussed it afterwards with a friend who was in the Israeli Defense Force with me during the first Lebanon War. Neither of us was in the IDF during the Sabra and Shatilla massacres, but we both experienced the ugliness of this war. My friend became an officer and commanded troops on the front lines, while I delivered food and blankets to people living behind the front lines. As my experiences were less dangerous and had an element of humanity to them, I never had to eliminate my memories of the war. My friend, on the other hand, forgot everything, and really doesn't care to remember.
My experience of the movie in Evanston, Illinois, just after the cease fire in Gaza, was much different. The movie ended. The audience remained in their seats. A woman yelled, "That's Gaza. They Israelis are now doing what the Christians did to the Palestinians." Many yelled for her to "shut up." Another person said that this was our American tax dollars at work, and another suggested that we stop paying our taxes.
While these were just shouts, their violence was magnified by the juxtaposition to the movie. Waltz with Bashir is not just about a war. It is about war. It is a statement about the demagoguery of political leadership. It is about the chaos and banality of battle. It is about the lowest forms of human interaction and it is about the human mind and its potential to allow for such agency to exist in the world.
To suggest that Israel perpetrated a Sabra and Shatilla like massacre against Palestinians is hyperbole. The intentions of the war were not genocidal. Israelis seek security. This drives them to do things they never had to do as a people without a country. I believe that they might not have to do them if they end the military occupation of the West Bank, but I am a optimist.
Regardless of all the drama surrounding the movie screen, Ari Folman's work is to be commended to the fullest degree. Israeli cinema has come of age, and Waltz with Bashir is a world class production.
The movie itself probably resonates differently with every viewer. On the literal level, this is a compelling voyage of one individual grappling with his past through a documentative narrative that weaves between the two forms of story telling with great ease. The animation is rich and in-vocative. The merger of comic-bookesque two dimensional animation and 3-d environments was a visual feast for the eyes. The music set the tone of the narrative and would probably stand very well on its own, and the combination of all these factors led to a product that was greater than the sum of the parts.
Every person seeing this film will have a different experience. That sounds like a simple statement, but it isn't. I saw the movie for the first time in Tel-Aviv and discussed it afterwards with a friend who was in the Israeli Defense Force with me during the first Lebanon War. Neither of us was in the IDF during the Sabra and Shatilla massacres, but we both experienced the ugliness of this war. My friend became an officer and commanded troops on the front lines, while I delivered food and blankets to people living behind the front lines. As my experiences were less dangerous and had an element of humanity to them, I never had to eliminate my memories of the war. My friend, on the other hand, forgot everything, and really doesn't care to remember.
My experience of the movie in Evanston, Illinois, just after the cease fire in Gaza, was much different. The movie ended. The audience remained in their seats. A woman yelled, "That's Gaza. They Israelis are now doing what the Christians did to the Palestinians." Many yelled for her to "shut up." Another person said that this was our American tax dollars at work, and another suggested that we stop paying our taxes.
While these were just shouts, their violence was magnified by the juxtaposition to the movie. Waltz with Bashir is not just about a war. It is about war. It is a statement about the demagoguery of political leadership. It is about the chaos and banality of battle. It is about the lowest forms of human interaction and it is about the human mind and its potential to allow for such agency to exist in the world.
To suggest that Israel perpetrated a Sabra and Shatilla like massacre against Palestinians is hyperbole. The intentions of the war were not genocidal. Israelis seek security. This drives them to do things they never had to do as a people without a country. I believe that they might not have to do them if they end the military occupation of the West Bank, but I am a optimist.
Regardless of all the drama surrounding the movie screen, Ari Folman's work is to be commended to the fullest degree. Israeli cinema has come of age, and Waltz with Bashir is a world class production.
Friday, January 23, 2009
On Qaddafi's One State idea
A Mennonite friend asked me to share my thoughts about Qaddafi's New York Times Op-Ed about a one state solution for Palestinians and Israelis. I thought I would share my response here.
There is a Biblical source for looking for the Dignity of Difference, as England's Chief Rabbi Jonathan Sacks argues in his book of the same name. He uses many sources to discuss it. One is in the Tower of Babel story. God created diversity. When we were all working together to reach the heavens, God reminded us that we are not gods by giving us different languages and ultimately cultures.
I think there is a lot wrong with nationalism and nation-states. Creating two national entities to solve a human problem, on the surface, seems like a step backwards. It could become a barrier to peace between people. But sometimes good fences make good neighbors. The wall between Palestinians and Israelis is not a good fence. It is an unjust barrier between two people because it is not on the green line, it separates Palestinians form their livelihood, it restricts their freedom of travel and it keeps them from reaching their holy places. Still, the idea of letting two nations that have been at war with each other for at least 60 years find time to cool down and adjust to their co-existence is a good idea.
I believe that we only have control over our own actions. Mixing two groups in order to create the climate that has each side take responsibility for itself is not a good method. This is why I am not a fan of Seeds of Peace. Even in the program I have been pushing for with Israeli and Palestinian teachers, I have not focused on their collaboration as much as the literacy of their discourse.
Qaddaffi's argument that a Palestinian state beside Israel will pose a threat to Israel may have some validity, but it is not a proof for the need to mix cultures. The idea that there exists a right of return for each people is unrealistic. Even if such a right exists, it is impossible to fulfill. When there are two states, Jews who lived in Hebron, for instance, before the state was created will need to compromise, likewise Palestinians who were in Jaffa before the state and fled will need to compromise. As for the people currently existing in the other's territory, we will need to be creative. I favor moving Israeli settlers to make them live in pre-1967 Israel. I am not a fan of doing this to Palestinians in Haifa, Akko and other Arab Israeli cities. This is a question of justice and it is certainly open to discussion. The bottom line is that we will need to be more creative.
If, in the future, two secular democratic countries want to build a federation, I'm all for that. But it will take some time to cool down first. Jews need to figure out a lot about themselves before they can become partners with another nation. We are still trying to define who is a Jew? What rituals and beliefs comprise Judaism? And most importantly, how do we behave under this very unfamiliar beast called sovereignty. Merging our two nations under the current set of challenges within each camp is a recipe for disaster.
I hope that answers your question, and I'd be delighted to hear your response.
Best,
David Steiner
There is a Biblical source for looking for the Dignity of Difference, as England's Chief Rabbi Jonathan Sacks argues in his book of the same name. He uses many sources to discuss it. One is in the Tower of Babel story. God created diversity. When we were all working together to reach the heavens, God reminded us that we are not gods by giving us different languages and ultimately cultures.
I think there is a lot wrong with nationalism and nation-states. Creating two national entities to solve a human problem, on the surface, seems like a step backwards. It could become a barrier to peace between people. But sometimes good fences make good neighbors. The wall between Palestinians and Israelis is not a good fence. It is an unjust barrier between two people because it is not on the green line, it separates Palestinians form their livelihood, it restricts their freedom of travel and it keeps them from reaching their holy places. Still, the idea of letting two nations that have been at war with each other for at least 60 years find time to cool down and adjust to their co-existence is a good idea.
I believe that we only have control over our own actions. Mixing two groups in order to create the climate that has each side take responsibility for itself is not a good method. This is why I am not a fan of Seeds of Peace. Even in the program I have been pushing for with Israeli and Palestinian teachers, I have not focused on their collaboration as much as the literacy of their discourse.
Qaddaffi's argument that a Palestinian state beside Israel will pose a threat to Israel may have some validity, but it is not a proof for the need to mix cultures. The idea that there exists a right of return for each people is unrealistic. Even if such a right exists, it is impossible to fulfill. When there are two states, Jews who lived in Hebron, for instance, before the state was created will need to compromise, likewise Palestinians who were in Jaffa before the state and fled will need to compromise. As for the people currently existing in the other's territory, we will need to be creative. I favor moving Israeli settlers to make them live in pre-1967 Israel. I am not a fan of doing this to Palestinians in Haifa, Akko and other Arab Israeli cities. This is a question of justice and it is certainly open to discussion. The bottom line is that we will need to be more creative.
If, in the future, two secular democratic countries want to build a federation, I'm all for that. But it will take some time to cool down first. Jews need to figure out a lot about themselves before they can become partners with another nation. We are still trying to define who is a Jew? What rituals and beliefs comprise Judaism? And most importantly, how do we behave under this very unfamiliar beast called sovereignty. Merging our two nations under the current set of challenges within each camp is a recipe for disaster.
I hope that answers your question, and I'd be delighted to hear your response.
Best,
David Steiner
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Israel Education and the Jewish Problem
During times of great moral and ethical challenges, it’s quite normal to reflect on one’s judgments and actions and sometimes reconsider them to fit new realities. As an educator, I’m doing this right now in the face of the war in Gaza. And my focus is turning to questions of education about Israel.
Israel has always been a component of Jewish education, but the goals need to be clear and the methods need to serve those goals. What should Israel education look like during times of conflict?
I was raised with Zionist education as a child in Habonim, the Labor Zionist youth movement. We learned about Israel through the lens of idealism. The heroes we were taught about were men and women who, like Abraham our forefather, left their homelands and travelled to a land they didn’t know to start a life that they could only imagine. When the pioneers of Israel arrived, they had returned to the land of Zion, the place where Solomon built our First Temple, the place where we Jews lived as a sovereign nation. They had also left a brutal Europe where anti-Semitism was rapidly morphing into Nazism.At that time, Zionism served two purposes: the reconstitution of a Jewish nation in its original homeland and the establishment of a national refuge for our people. Just as these purposes of the state are very different from each other, so are Israel education and Zionist education.
I am very familiar with Zionist education and still cling to the somewhat anachronistic goals that brought us the revitalization of the Hebrew language, the kibbutz, the Israeli, universal health care system and much more. I am proud of the accomplishments of the pioneers and of many projects of the Jewish state but teaching Israel is not the same as teaching Zionism.
I find it very comfortable to teach Zionism because it is an ideal. In this curriculum, there is the proud tradition of Judaism as a spiritual and religious body of knowledge, tradition and ritual. According to Jean Jacques Rousseau, “It is an astonishing and unique spectacle to see an expatriated people…scorned by all nations…preserving its characteristics.” Zionism adds to that story the aspirations of a dispersed people to reunite, grow together and be a “light onto the nations.”
But as a story of and curriculum about a nation-state, Israel education is much different. Israel is tangible. It has absorbed Jewish immigrants from all corners of the world. It has made great contributions to medicine, digital technology, agriculture and much more, and it has provided the Jewish people with a Hebrew culture par excellence.
And there is the Israel that has engaged in numerous wars during her mere sixty years of existence—not all defensive. I even served during what many call Israel’s Vietnam—the first Lebanon War. Add to this the 41-year-old military occupation of the West Bank with its significant Palestinian population.
Teaching the gray history of any nation is challenging, but the difficulties are lessened by the fact that when we learn the history of the country we live in, we are more willing to find ways to accept the stains that compromise the aspirations of the inhabitants. As an American, I can be upset with slavery and the treatment of the indigenous people, or I can be optimistic and recognize the growth of our democracy to include African-Americans and women. It’s almost incumbent on me to be optimistic because I live here and this makes me a participant regardless of whether or not I agree with the direction of the country.
To educate about Israel from abroad is so different. We are not active participants in the building of that state. We may put coins in our JNF boxes or write to our legislators about our concerns for the state, but we don’t vote there. We don’t pay taxes and we certainly don’t serve in the military. So when the state doesn’t behave as we please, we can act like the good consumers we are and shop elsewhere. This is the challenge for Israel education from abroad.
Ironically, the solutions that have been devised to address this problem have been harmful to Israel. Some develop affinities with Israel from a distance through the celebration of the state’s successes and through visits to its many wonders, but I suggest that this approach is bound to fail. Teaching with the goal of having Diaspora Jews love Israel through acquaintanceship without sharing her shortcomings is dishonest. And I am not suggesting that teaching her failures would be any better. Going to the deprived Arab villages in Israel or discussing the occupation will not create Israel loyalists either.
What I suggest is a new kind of Zionist education that roots our relationship to Israel in history, culture, ritual and prayer. What we need is a strong and enduring connection with Judaism and the uniqueness of our people. If we love our mission as Jews, we can decide to fulfill it in the largest national drama the Jewish people have staged in 2000 years or we can support it from afar, but our support will be Jewish in nature and not nationalist.
The State of Israel fulfills two functions for our people—asylum and collaboration. Let’s focus on strengthening Jewish education instead of Israel education which is nationalist in nature. The conflation of nationalism and Judaism is not going to disappear, but our goal should be to make Jewish interests always come first. This will give us a country that we all can be proud of without jeopardizing the religion that is the purpose of our being.
Israel has always been a component of Jewish education, but the goals need to be clear and the methods need to serve those goals. What should Israel education look like during times of conflict?
I was raised with Zionist education as a child in Habonim, the Labor Zionist youth movement. We learned about Israel through the lens of idealism. The heroes we were taught about were men and women who, like Abraham our forefather, left their homelands and travelled to a land they didn’t know to start a life that they could only imagine. When the pioneers of Israel arrived, they had returned to the land of Zion, the place where Solomon built our First Temple, the place where we Jews lived as a sovereign nation. They had also left a brutal Europe where anti-Semitism was rapidly morphing into Nazism.At that time, Zionism served two purposes: the reconstitution of a Jewish nation in its original homeland and the establishment of a national refuge for our people. Just as these purposes of the state are very different from each other, so are Israel education and Zionist education.
I am very familiar with Zionist education and still cling to the somewhat anachronistic goals that brought us the revitalization of the Hebrew language, the kibbutz, the Israeli, universal health care system and much more. I am proud of the accomplishments of the pioneers and of many projects of the Jewish state but teaching Israel is not the same as teaching Zionism.
I find it very comfortable to teach Zionism because it is an ideal. In this curriculum, there is the proud tradition of Judaism as a spiritual and religious body of knowledge, tradition and ritual. According to Jean Jacques Rousseau, “It is an astonishing and unique spectacle to see an expatriated people…scorned by all nations…preserving its characteristics.” Zionism adds to that story the aspirations of a dispersed people to reunite, grow together and be a “light onto the nations.”
But as a story of and curriculum about a nation-state, Israel education is much different. Israel is tangible. It has absorbed Jewish immigrants from all corners of the world. It has made great contributions to medicine, digital technology, agriculture and much more, and it has provided the Jewish people with a Hebrew culture par excellence.
And there is the Israel that has engaged in numerous wars during her mere sixty years of existence—not all defensive. I even served during what many call Israel’s Vietnam—the first Lebanon War. Add to this the 41-year-old military occupation of the West Bank with its significant Palestinian population.
Teaching the gray history of any nation is challenging, but the difficulties are lessened by the fact that when we learn the history of the country we live in, we are more willing to find ways to accept the stains that compromise the aspirations of the inhabitants. As an American, I can be upset with slavery and the treatment of the indigenous people, or I can be optimistic and recognize the growth of our democracy to include African-Americans and women. It’s almost incumbent on me to be optimistic because I live here and this makes me a participant regardless of whether or not I agree with the direction of the country.
To educate about Israel from abroad is so different. We are not active participants in the building of that state. We may put coins in our JNF boxes or write to our legislators about our concerns for the state, but we don’t vote there. We don’t pay taxes and we certainly don’t serve in the military. So when the state doesn’t behave as we please, we can act like the good consumers we are and shop elsewhere. This is the challenge for Israel education from abroad.
Ironically, the solutions that have been devised to address this problem have been harmful to Israel. Some develop affinities with Israel from a distance through the celebration of the state’s successes and through visits to its many wonders, but I suggest that this approach is bound to fail. Teaching with the goal of having Diaspora Jews love Israel through acquaintanceship without sharing her shortcomings is dishonest. And I am not suggesting that teaching her failures would be any better. Going to the deprived Arab villages in Israel or discussing the occupation will not create Israel loyalists either.
What I suggest is a new kind of Zionist education that roots our relationship to Israel in history, culture, ritual and prayer. What we need is a strong and enduring connection with Judaism and the uniqueness of our people. If we love our mission as Jews, we can decide to fulfill it in the largest national drama the Jewish people have staged in 2000 years or we can support it from afar, but our support will be Jewish in nature and not nationalist.
The State of Israel fulfills two functions for our people—asylum and collaboration. Let’s focus on strengthening Jewish education instead of Israel education which is nationalist in nature. The conflation of nationalism and Judaism is not going to disappear, but our goal should be to make Jewish interests always come first. This will give us a country that we all can be proud of without jeopardizing the religion that is the purpose of our being.
Friday, January 16, 2009
The price of choosing peace
From my jailed, orthodox, Israeli, feminist, peace educator friend.
Until Sunday night and please don't worry I am fine and even strengthened politically. I participated twice in protest watches in Beer Sheva (standing with signs with no microphone is legal and does not require police permit by law but the police of course does not know this). I carried a sign in Arabic "In Ghaza and Sderot children deserve to live" and near me someone carried a sign in Hebrew that said, "stop, hold fire, talk". The group Darom4peace is that wishy-washy, yes, very middle of the road we thought, no extreme left, no accusation of Israeli govt or army, not even "peace now"type of thing. Yet the police these dark days is apparently instructed to play an active role in boosting public morale and national unity, so they jumped into our midst lieterally and grabbed six of us on Wednesday into their cars etc. Four univ students, myself, and Nir Oren, the director of an NGO called The Parents Circle (look it up on the net), or in Hebfrew, Forum Mishpahot Shakulot, Israeli and Palestinian families who lost a family member in the conflict and work together towards peace. His own mother was killed in a suicide bombing of a bus in 1995. It turned out that one of the arrested students also lost his father in a terrorist attack several years ago and showed a great interest in joining the circle. So now I am in house arrest for a few days, am not allowed into Beer Sheva for two weeks (my students will probably come to Yeruham instead), and we face trial on January 28. This is totally silly as Israel already has a landmark Supreme Court ruling from 1953 on freedom of speech (Bagatz Kol haÁm) but it does drive the message home that only traiters resist killing for their own group. No one is surprised that the police wrongly thought we were breaking the law, disobeying the police, rioting (???!!!) and disturbing public peace (Orwellian enough, if you wish to disturb the war you actually disturb peace because war is peace, ie consensual, and we are controversial). What is surprising and I think worrisome is the silence of the press on all this in a country where there is freedom of the press, ie it is self imposed censureship. many journalists called, were there at the watch, took pictures and interviewed, telephoned later, promised to come to the court, and nada, not a word, no coverage published. So Israel crossed the line from self-defense to war crimes in my opinion the minute it refused to cease fire when Hamas requested it. We shall not give in. Arrests only radicalizes politically, but I am holding my ground and I still refute the reasoning of the extreme left ("Israel is fascist", ä nation state cannot be democratic").
Leah Shakdiel Yeruham, Israel, and shabbat shalom, no computor until tomorrow night
Until Sunday night and please don't worry I am fine and even strengthened politically. I participated twice in protest watches in Beer Sheva (standing with signs with no microphone is legal and does not require police permit by law but the police of course does not know this). I carried a sign in Arabic "In Ghaza and Sderot children deserve to live" and near me someone carried a sign in Hebrew that said, "stop, hold fire, talk". The group Darom4peace is that wishy-washy, yes, very middle of the road we thought, no extreme left, no accusation of Israeli govt or army, not even "peace now"type of thing. Yet the police these dark days is apparently instructed to play an active role in boosting public morale and national unity, so they jumped into our midst lieterally and grabbed six of us on Wednesday into their cars etc. Four univ students, myself, and Nir Oren, the director of an NGO called The Parents Circle (look it up on the net), or in Hebfrew, Forum Mishpahot Shakulot, Israeli and Palestinian families who lost a family member in the conflict and work together towards peace. His own mother was killed in a suicide bombing of a bus in 1995. It turned out that one of the arrested students also lost his father in a terrorist attack several years ago and showed a great interest in joining the circle. So now I am in house arrest for a few days, am not allowed into Beer Sheva for two weeks (my students will probably come to Yeruham instead), and we face trial on January 28. This is totally silly as Israel already has a landmark Supreme Court ruling from 1953 on freedom of speech (Bagatz Kol haÁm) but it does drive the message home that only traiters resist killing for their own group. No one is surprised that the police wrongly thought we were breaking the law, disobeying the police, rioting (???!!!) and disturbing public peace (Orwellian enough, if you wish to disturb the war you actually disturb peace because war is peace, ie consensual, and we are controversial). What is surprising and I think worrisome is the silence of the press on all this in a country where there is freedom of the press, ie it is self imposed censureship. many journalists called, were there at the watch, took pictures and interviewed, telephoned later, promised to come to the court, and nada, not a word, no coverage published. So Israel crossed the line from self-defense to war crimes in my opinion the minute it refused to cease fire when Hamas requested it. We shall not give in. Arrests only radicalizes politically, but I am holding my ground and I still refute the reasoning of the extreme left ("Israel is fascist", ä nation state cannot be democratic").
Leah Shakdiel Yeruham, Israel, and shabbat shalom, no computor until tomorrow night
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
What would Moses Do?
As a young man still not ready to meet with God, Moses goes out of Pharaoh’s palace and sees the hardship of the Hebrew slaves. He spots an Egyptian beating a slave and kills him. This is the immature Moses’ execution of justice on his own. He is disturbed by the violence that he encounters, but acts hastily and commits murder.
The next day he sees two Hebrew slaves fighting. He has matured now, and even though the Torah has not yet been revealed, and Moses is unaware of the command to rebuke his friend, he admonishes them at the risk of their revealing his deed of the prior day. Then Moses flees to Midian, a self imposed exile from the land of his childhood. Here Moses rescues Jethro's daughters from attack by outsiders.
The pattern of Moses maturation is very instructive for us. This series of three ethical decisions lead up to God’s decision to make Moses the leader of His chosen people. God hear the cries of the Hebrew slaves and finds a leader to help them leave Egypt in this son of the tribe of Levy. What can we learn about leadership from Moses behavior up to this point?
Clearly, Moses has a strong sense of justice and the courage to act. Many of us have strong feelings about the war in Gaza, and few of us have taken a stand. A mere 1000 Jews stood in public to stand by the Jewish state in a public display of support, and fewer were present at the counter demonstration that reports to have had 3000 protesters. Pundits have written columns, but how many of us have written to our legislators and political leaders asking them to act on our behalf in one way or the other.
Moses also had his priorities straight. By seeking justice for the Hebrew slave, Moses was forced to give up all the comforts of Pharaoh’s palace. Moses was a prince. He was raised by the daughter of the most powerful person in the land, yet he chose to leave everything behind in the pursuit of Justice. Fortunately, we are not confronted with these choices. We can have all the comforts of our lives and still write checks to Jewish and Zionist organizations like the Jewish National Fund or Americans for Peace Now. To take an afternoon off and go demonstrate our will about the war in Gaza would hardly set us back. The question I would like answered is why, if we don’t have to give up as much as Moses, do we not pursue justice with even a fraction of his vigilance?
I am particularly impressed by the fact that God sees the willingness, ability, and calling to rebuke a fellow as an attribute of leadership. God wants us to stand up for justice before loyalty to any group or people. To rebuke a fellow in the name of justice could be very difficult and lead to ostracism from one’s own community. Clearly, the message that God is sending us by making this a criterion of Moses leadership is that justice is above all loyalties because the pursuit of justice is divine.
The order of Moses’ maturation events is also very instructive. It could be argued that it is easier to seek justice for your own people, as Moses did in the first instance. To seek justice between two members of your own people is a bit more challenging for the reasons just stated, but to seek justice between strangers must be elevated to a higher level. When Moses helps Zipporah and her sisters, he is stepping into a conflict between strangers. The consequence of this battle has reduced personal implications for him.
The Israeli philosopher Avishai Margalit distinguishes between ethics and morals based on a spectrum of personal implications. He says that ethics are about thick relations; relationships with people or groups who influence your live. This could be enemies or friends but doesn’t include strangers. Morals guide our behavior towards strangers, thin relations, because the distance between our lives and theirs is so great that there are virtually no implications to their behavior or suffering. Morals, according to Margalit, are about how we should care for strangers because, if there was no moral in place, we would probably not act. Moses intervention on behalf of Yethro’s daughters is a moral decision. He acts because sometimes the parties to injustice need outside intervention, even if the intervention doesn’t help the people who intervene.
I like the distinction between ethics and morals and the description of thick and thin relations, but I am uncomfortable with Margalit’s final conclusion; that all action is motivated by personal gain. I think the author of the Torah wanted us to ask these questions as he carefully positioned this episode just before the meeting between God and Moses on Sinai.
Writing about justice, ethics and morality at a time of war between my people, Jews & Israelis, and Hamas, makes me ask some tough questions about my own sense and execution of justice.
Do I do enough to stay informed before coming to ethical and moral decisions? Am I discerning in how I read the press? Do I let national loyalties disturb the criticality of my inquiry?
Once I make my decisions about justice, do I accept the status quo of my decision or do I continue to seek new facts and information to constantly challenge my opinions and decisions? What do I do with the opinions I have? Do I seek justice in the Jewish way by giving tzedakah? Do I write letters to legislators and politicians? Do I call my representatives in Congress and push for my agenda?
And of course, there is the space of my communal action. How should I be in my community? Can I teach about the situation? Can I open minds and hearts to the plight of the injured and bereaved? Can I train a new generation to be more careful before it chooses the military option?
I am not interested in blame right now. I am interested in the sanctity of human life. I’m interested in the behavior of my people, and I am interested in the justice of my creator. This is the lens through which my behavior in the world is motivated, and it is the motivation for my decision to do, in the words of President Elect, Barack Obama, “all that is in my power,” to seek justice and pursue it.
The next day he sees two Hebrew slaves fighting. He has matured now, and even though the Torah has not yet been revealed, and Moses is unaware of the command to rebuke his friend, he admonishes them at the risk of their revealing his deed of the prior day. Then Moses flees to Midian, a self imposed exile from the land of his childhood. Here Moses rescues Jethro's daughters from attack by outsiders.
The pattern of Moses maturation is very instructive for us. This series of three ethical decisions lead up to God’s decision to make Moses the leader of His chosen people. God hear the cries of the Hebrew slaves and finds a leader to help them leave Egypt in this son of the tribe of Levy. What can we learn about leadership from Moses behavior up to this point?
Clearly, Moses has a strong sense of justice and the courage to act. Many of us have strong feelings about the war in Gaza, and few of us have taken a stand. A mere 1000 Jews stood in public to stand by the Jewish state in a public display of support, and fewer were present at the counter demonstration that reports to have had 3000 protesters. Pundits have written columns, but how many of us have written to our legislators and political leaders asking them to act on our behalf in one way or the other.
Moses also had his priorities straight. By seeking justice for the Hebrew slave, Moses was forced to give up all the comforts of Pharaoh’s palace. Moses was a prince. He was raised by the daughter of the most powerful person in the land, yet he chose to leave everything behind in the pursuit of Justice. Fortunately, we are not confronted with these choices. We can have all the comforts of our lives and still write checks to Jewish and Zionist organizations like the Jewish National Fund or Americans for Peace Now. To take an afternoon off and go demonstrate our will about the war in Gaza would hardly set us back. The question I would like answered is why, if we don’t have to give up as much as Moses, do we not pursue justice with even a fraction of his vigilance?
I am particularly impressed by the fact that God sees the willingness, ability, and calling to rebuke a fellow as an attribute of leadership. God wants us to stand up for justice before loyalty to any group or people. To rebuke a fellow in the name of justice could be very difficult and lead to ostracism from one’s own community. Clearly, the message that God is sending us by making this a criterion of Moses leadership is that justice is above all loyalties because the pursuit of justice is divine.
The order of Moses’ maturation events is also very instructive. It could be argued that it is easier to seek justice for your own people, as Moses did in the first instance. To seek justice between two members of your own people is a bit more challenging for the reasons just stated, but to seek justice between strangers must be elevated to a higher level. When Moses helps Zipporah and her sisters, he is stepping into a conflict between strangers. The consequence of this battle has reduced personal implications for him.
The Israeli philosopher Avishai Margalit distinguishes between ethics and morals based on a spectrum of personal implications. He says that ethics are about thick relations; relationships with people or groups who influence your live. This could be enemies or friends but doesn’t include strangers. Morals guide our behavior towards strangers, thin relations, because the distance between our lives and theirs is so great that there are virtually no implications to their behavior or suffering. Morals, according to Margalit, are about how we should care for strangers because, if there was no moral in place, we would probably not act. Moses intervention on behalf of Yethro’s daughters is a moral decision. He acts because sometimes the parties to injustice need outside intervention, even if the intervention doesn’t help the people who intervene.
I like the distinction between ethics and morals and the description of thick and thin relations, but I am uncomfortable with Margalit’s final conclusion; that all action is motivated by personal gain. I think the author of the Torah wanted us to ask these questions as he carefully positioned this episode just before the meeting between God and Moses on Sinai.
Writing about justice, ethics and morality at a time of war between my people, Jews & Israelis, and Hamas, makes me ask some tough questions about my own sense and execution of justice.
Do I do enough to stay informed before coming to ethical and moral decisions? Am I discerning in how I read the press? Do I let national loyalties disturb the criticality of my inquiry?
Once I make my decisions about justice, do I accept the status quo of my decision or do I continue to seek new facts and information to constantly challenge my opinions and decisions? What do I do with the opinions I have? Do I seek justice in the Jewish way by giving tzedakah? Do I write letters to legislators and politicians? Do I call my representatives in Congress and push for my agenda?
And of course, there is the space of my communal action. How should I be in my community? Can I teach about the situation? Can I open minds and hearts to the plight of the injured and bereaved? Can I train a new generation to be more careful before it chooses the military option?
I am not interested in blame right now. I am interested in the sanctity of human life. I’m interested in the behavior of my people, and I am interested in the justice of my creator. This is the lens through which my behavior in the world is motivated, and it is the motivation for my decision to do, in the words of President Elect, Barack Obama, “all that is in my power,” to seek justice and pursue it.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Teaching Peace in Times of War
I must comment on the sacred cow known as national unity. I am not aware , in Jewish history or in any other history, of a worthwhile achievement of ethical, social, intellectual or religious character, which was attained thanks to national unity. Whatever is of worth was achieved through difficult struggles, sometimes even bloody civil wars. It is clear that values are not a basis for unity. It is possible to unite on the basis of interests, and, even then, only the most commonplace interests lay the grounds of unity. Struggle among people is a normal and healthy phenomenon. The very thing fools fear is what we desparately need, what in European political jargon is called Kulturkampf. This struggle is essential for intellectual and moral health. Value differences necessarily entail a struggle. (Yeshayahu Leibowitz, 1968)
This Friday I skipped the “Pro-Israel” demonstration in downtown Chicago and avoided the Arab anti-war demonstration that followed it. This is not “I don’t want to be a member of a club that would have someone like me for a member.” I don’t shy away from demonstrations and I certainly have a lot to say about this ongoing war in Gaza. I just think I have a better uses of my time teaching and writing than I do cheering or demonizing the other.
I had a clear measure of my success in this realm when one of my students came to tell me this morning that when a classmate of his bragged about how Israel was kicking Hamas’ butt in the war, he responded by saying that he can’t celebrate when hundreds of people are being killed.
What I liked best is that he didn’t say innocent civilians. He just said “people,” as if it doesn’t really matter what label they wear or what side of the border they live on. In my adult, academic lexicon, we might refer to that as not dehumanizing people. But this is one of the many skills that us adults have lost. We are so caught up in being right that we have built our right on others being wrong.
Being principle of a Religious School has some great benefits. The biggest is that I get to listen to my students and learn from them those things that we tend to lose as we age. Today was a particularly fruitful day for me. I learned a lot.
My friend, David Netzer, taught me a lesson which he does with Palestinian and Jewish kids in Northern Israel and I tried it out on my students. I gave them two pieces of paper; one from my recycling bin and the other a plan white sheet. I had the students make war with the recycled page and then draw peace on the white page. Without discussion, I then had them make peace with the tatters of the war page and war with their drawings of peace. Before the discussion started, I had them make peace with their drawings. Having two pages was my addition to David’s lesson. I wanted the students to compare war on a page they didn’t have an investment in with war on the page they drew of something very dear to them – their conception of peace. I also wanted to point out, by having them draw peace, that we all have very distinct conceptions of peace. Some students wrote the Hebrew word “Shalom” and many others wrote “Peace.” This was great because it gave me space to teach them the different linguistic conceptions of peace. Peace, from the Latin root Pax, refers to a cessation of violence, whereas Shalom comes from the Hebrew root Shalem which means whole or complete. I wanted to make the students proud of the fact that their language held peace as an ideal. I also wanted them to see that no two people have the same vision of peace.
When we spoke about the difference between making war with the recycled paper versus making war with the picture of peace, everyone said that making peace with the recycled paper was easier, but one of my truly great teachers said that she thought that making war with the peace image was a bit easier because she had already experienced making war with the recycled page.
I asked the students what could we deduce from our own and collective experience, and they were quick to respond that the more they were invested in the image, the more difficult it was to go to war. This sounded like the Thomas Friedman hypothesis that no two countries with McDonald’s will go to war with each other, but this turns out not to be true.
When the conversation went to solutions and alternatives to war, the students suggested getting familiar with the other party, but one of my more behaviorally challenging students jumped up and said something that sounded brilliant in the moment. “What if you become familiar and you discover that the other side is bad?” The student really touched on something important here. Is it enough to get to know eachother?
Organizations like Seeds of Peace try to prevent conflict by getting adversaries to live with each other in a summer camp, have dialog sessions and play together. With a non-critical eye, this sounds great. It’s like getting a lion and lamb to sleep next to each other. But what really is so great about it.
Through a source that should not have revealed itself to me, I learned of a breakdown in a moderated electronic discussion between Palestinians and Israelis who experienced something very similar to Seeds of Peace. When things collapsed and the invectives started flying, each side became increasingly convinced that “the other side is bad?”
Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, Chief Rabbi of England, has a rather great take on this problem. According to Rabbi Sacks, “We will need to understand that just as the natural environment depends on biodiversity, so human environment depends on cultural diversity, because no one civilization encompasses all the spiritual, ethical and artistic expressions of mankind (Sacks 2002, P.62).”
In other words, we cannot continue to use tolerance as a mode of teaching peace, we must move to a model of pluralism wherein others can be different and “we” should not be so sure of ourselves as to say we have a monopoly on righteousness. By becoming familiar and tolerating difference, we will only accept it until we are not willing to accept it. By teaching pluralism, we are more likely to acknowledge our own limitations and act cautiously.
I concluded my lesson with the story of Ahknai’s oven from the Talmud. In this narrative, Rabbi Eliezer is very sure that he is right and all the rest of the academy is wrong. He tries proving it through sorcery but they remain unconvinced. Then he brings down the voice of God to announce his righteousness, which it does. But the rabbis respond by saying that “The Torah is not in heaven.” Meaning that humans have to be the judges of their own behavior. And that “We should act according to the majority,” which I explained was a misquote of the original citation from Genesis. The story concludes with God laughing in joy that his creatures have matured enough to take over ruling their destiny.
I told this story to get the kids thinking about the risks and responsibilities of having the judgment over right and wrong sit in human hands. I also wanted them to question the validity and wisdom of acting according to the majority.
In Fiddler on the Roof, there is a great line about a teacher who admires himself having a class of one. At the risk of being that teacher, I must announce my pride in the decision to end with the story of Ahknai’s oven because it went over so well. The students started discussing the fact that the Nazis came to power through democracy and that human beings are fraught with misjudgments. They discussed the difference between self-defense and suicide. It was amazing to see how successfully I had complicated something that the rest of the world is so eager to make simple. I am really proud of my work today and really proud of my students. Now let’s go out and stop this ugly war.
This Friday I skipped the “Pro-Israel” demonstration in downtown Chicago and avoided the Arab anti-war demonstration that followed it. This is not “I don’t want to be a member of a club that would have someone like me for a member.” I don’t shy away from demonstrations and I certainly have a lot to say about this ongoing war in Gaza. I just think I have a better uses of my time teaching and writing than I do cheering or demonizing the other.
I had a clear measure of my success in this realm when one of my students came to tell me this morning that when a classmate of his bragged about how Israel was kicking Hamas’ butt in the war, he responded by saying that he can’t celebrate when hundreds of people are being killed.
What I liked best is that he didn’t say innocent civilians. He just said “people,” as if it doesn’t really matter what label they wear or what side of the border they live on. In my adult, academic lexicon, we might refer to that as not dehumanizing people. But this is one of the many skills that us adults have lost. We are so caught up in being right that we have built our right on others being wrong.
Being principle of a Religious School has some great benefits. The biggest is that I get to listen to my students and learn from them those things that we tend to lose as we age. Today was a particularly fruitful day for me. I learned a lot.
My friend, David Netzer, taught me a lesson which he does with Palestinian and Jewish kids in Northern Israel and I tried it out on my students. I gave them two pieces of paper; one from my recycling bin and the other a plan white sheet. I had the students make war with the recycled page and then draw peace on the white page. Without discussion, I then had them make peace with the tatters of the war page and war with their drawings of peace. Before the discussion started, I had them make peace with their drawings. Having two pages was my addition to David’s lesson. I wanted the students to compare war on a page they didn’t have an investment in with war on the page they drew of something very dear to them – their conception of peace. I also wanted to point out, by having them draw peace, that we all have very distinct conceptions of peace. Some students wrote the Hebrew word “Shalom” and many others wrote “Peace.” This was great because it gave me space to teach them the different linguistic conceptions of peace. Peace, from the Latin root Pax, refers to a cessation of violence, whereas Shalom comes from the Hebrew root Shalem which means whole or complete. I wanted to make the students proud of the fact that their language held peace as an ideal. I also wanted them to see that no two people have the same vision of peace.
When we spoke about the difference between making war with the recycled paper versus making war with the picture of peace, everyone said that making peace with the recycled paper was easier, but one of my truly great teachers said that she thought that making war with the peace image was a bit easier because she had already experienced making war with the recycled page.
I asked the students what could we deduce from our own and collective experience, and they were quick to respond that the more they were invested in the image, the more difficult it was to go to war. This sounded like the Thomas Friedman hypothesis that no two countries with McDonald’s will go to war with each other, but this turns out not to be true.
When the conversation went to solutions and alternatives to war, the students suggested getting familiar with the other party, but one of my more behaviorally challenging students jumped up and said something that sounded brilliant in the moment. “What if you become familiar and you discover that the other side is bad?” The student really touched on something important here. Is it enough to get to know eachother?
Organizations like Seeds of Peace try to prevent conflict by getting adversaries to live with each other in a summer camp, have dialog sessions and play together. With a non-critical eye, this sounds great. It’s like getting a lion and lamb to sleep next to each other. But what really is so great about it.
Through a source that should not have revealed itself to me, I learned of a breakdown in a moderated electronic discussion between Palestinians and Israelis who experienced something very similar to Seeds of Peace. When things collapsed and the invectives started flying, each side became increasingly convinced that “the other side is bad?”
Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, Chief Rabbi of England, has a rather great take on this problem. According to Rabbi Sacks, “We will need to understand that just as the natural environment depends on biodiversity, so human environment depends on cultural diversity, because no one civilization encompasses all the spiritual, ethical and artistic expressions of mankind (Sacks 2002, P.62).”
In other words, we cannot continue to use tolerance as a mode of teaching peace, we must move to a model of pluralism wherein others can be different and “we” should not be so sure of ourselves as to say we have a monopoly on righteousness. By becoming familiar and tolerating difference, we will only accept it until we are not willing to accept it. By teaching pluralism, we are more likely to acknowledge our own limitations and act cautiously.
I concluded my lesson with the story of Ahknai’s oven from the Talmud. In this narrative, Rabbi Eliezer is very sure that he is right and all the rest of the academy is wrong. He tries proving it through sorcery but they remain unconvinced. Then he brings down the voice of God to announce his righteousness, which it does. But the rabbis respond by saying that “The Torah is not in heaven.” Meaning that humans have to be the judges of their own behavior. And that “We should act according to the majority,” which I explained was a misquote of the original citation from Genesis. The story concludes with God laughing in joy that his creatures have matured enough to take over ruling their destiny.
I told this story to get the kids thinking about the risks and responsibilities of having the judgment over right and wrong sit in human hands. I also wanted them to question the validity and wisdom of acting according to the majority.
In Fiddler on the Roof, there is a great line about a teacher who admires himself having a class of one. At the risk of being that teacher, I must announce my pride in the decision to end with the story of Ahknai’s oven because it went over so well. The students started discussing the fact that the Nazis came to power through democracy and that human beings are fraught with misjudgments. They discussed the difference between self-defense and suicide. It was amazing to see how successfully I had complicated something that the rest of the world is so eager to make simple. I am really proud of my work today and really proud of my students. Now let’s go out and stop this ugly war.
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