There are rules in education. We all know them. Teachers should be trained, qualified and have proven expertise in their field. Students should be guided carefully through a coherent curriculum, and assessed to measure their progress. Content should be divided up logically into disciplines, and determined by recognized authorities. And the entire endeavour should be driven by a vision of an ideal end product – a strong and compelling portrait of the model graduate.
In most instances, Jewish education has assimilated these rules hook, line and sinker. In day schools, universities, adult education initiatives and even summer camps, they exist in force. All Jewish teachers should be qualified; all Jewish students should learn a coherent and organized Jewish studies curriculum; all Jewish texts should be interpreted by Jewish authorities. And all Jewish educational institutions should have a clear and compelling notion of “the educated Jew,” an idealized picture of the type of Jew their institution seeks to mould.
But there is one exception at least, in the world of Jewish adult education, that does things differently and may be rewriting the Jewish educational rule book. Limmud.
From its modest beginnings thirty years ago as a rather amateurish and hastily thrown together conference for a small group of Jewish educators in Britain, Limmud has blossomed into an international network of activity capturing Jewish hearts and minds in over fifty Jewish communities on five continents. Limmud now reaches an estimated 35,000 people every year, attracts some of the most acclaimed Jewish thinkers, artists and activists in the world, and appears to have hit on a unique Jewish educational formula that, somehow, just seems to work.
Viewed simply, a Limmud event is a festival of Jewish life and learning. It is organized almost exclusively by volunteers, it may take place over one day or several, it offers a rich multiplicity of sessions at any moment of any day, and it provides a fabulous opportunity for anybody attending to learn from anybody presenting. Yet this simple description offers little to explain what Limmud represents, and how it may be altering the Jewish world.
Limmud’s tagline – “Wherever you are going, Limmud will take you one step further along your Jewish journey” – is a remarkable statement in two connected respects. First, it instantly establishes an expectation of movement. For Limmud, standing still as a Jew is not an option. However you understand your Jewishness today, that understanding should be challenged and enriched on a continual basis. That principle is applied equally to young and old, as it is to the most and the least learned. Without ever saying this explicitly, one of Limmud’s messages is: No one alone knows the whole Truth. Truths can be found from multiple people in multiple places. Go seek them out.
Second, Limmud does not espouse a particular destination for “your Jewish journey.” No authority figure is telling you – implicitly or explicitly – what specific type of Jew you should become. Unlike most Jewish educational institutions which actively aspire for their students to become more observant, or intellectual, or liberal, or conservative, Limmud simply offers Jews a chance – on their own terms – to become more Jewish. In effect it says: You’re an adult. You know better than us what interests you and what you find meaningful. We trust you. So we’ll create a space within which you will find the most interesting and diverse buffet of Jewish experiences, and invite you to partake. Choose whatever you want. We know your plate won’t resemble anyone else’s. That’s fine. People have different needs and interests. Oh, and we’d love you to bring your own dish to the next buffet so that you can share part of yourself, as others have shared part of themselves this time.
Contrary to the argument of some of its critics, there is nothing parve or bland about this. Indeed, in articulating its mission in this way, Limmud is making a profoundly empowering statement about the future of Jewish life. It is saying: Jewish life is not determined by others. Jewish life is determined by us. Let’s work together, give of ourselves, and make it the way it is meant to be.
Expressed slightly differently, Limmud is offering Jews an opportunity to create and live within Jewish community as they believe Jewish community should be. It is a supremely democratic model of Jewish education: power rests with the community rather than with any singular authority. In a Limmud community, no one is formally defined as “teacher” or “student,” because everyone has something to teach and everyone has something to learn. No one is explicitly categorized as “Orthodox,” “Reform,” “Secular” or “Religious” because people are more complex than that and labels might create barriers that restrict the possibility of dialogue and free engagement. No formal curriculum or linear learning process is set, because adults should be free to determine their own learning, and trusted to seek meaning wherever they might find it. No one determines the singular correct meaning of any text, because everyone is free to interpret every text. And no one is held in particularly high regard because of the size of their financial donation, because everyone who gives something of themselves should be held in equally high regard.
These are challenging ideas. They threaten existing authority. They undermine power bases. They break down walls. And they re-write the Jewish educational rule book. Here’s to thirty more years of the same.
(Also published in The Jerusalem Report)
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Parshat Shoftim
In Parshat Va'etchanan, which we read a few weeks ago, there is a rather strange short interlude in the narrative just before the repetition of the ten commandments, which describes how Moses established "cities of refuge" – places to where the accidental killer can flee and gain sanctuary.
I have often wondered whether the placement of this text is entirely deliberate: the only one of the ten commandments of which Moses himself was actually guilty was lo tirtzach - thou shalt not murder - and after he killed the nameless Egyptian and buried him in the sand, he himself fled to Midian to seek refuge. Some may regard Moses’s violent act as heroic - indeed, it is often portrayed as such - but was Moses haunted by it for his entire life? Did he in some way equate, on the grounds of his belief in the pursuit of justice, his own deliberate killing with an accidental one? And did he, at this critical moment just before reiterating the ten commandments, seek compassion and understanding for his own transgression of one of the laws he was about to decree?
It may be that this week's parsha, Shoftim, adds some fuel to this idea, as it refers once again to the cities of refuge, and includes the famous dictum tzedek tzedek tirdof (justice, justice, shall you pursue). Moreover, parshat shoftim is always read on the first Shabbat of the month of Elul – traditionally the period of reflection and repentance leading up to yamim noraim (the High Holy Days). Indeed, there is a beautiful Chassidic idea that draws a parallel between the cities of refuge and Elul – the former being a sanctuary in space for contemplation and atonement, the latter being a similar sanctuary in time. So at this very particular juncture in the Jewish year, the notions of a sanctuary in time, accidental wrongdoing, and the pursuit of justice coalesce in an intriguing and challenging way, and invite us to steady ourselves on the path to teshuva (repentance).
According to the Rambam, the pathway to a physical city of refuge is meant to be as clear as possible. In the Mishneh Torah, he writes that "the court is obligated to straighten the roads to the cities of refuge, to repair them and broaden them. They must remove all impediments and obstacles ... bridges should be built [over all natural barriers] so as not to delay one who is fleeing [to a city of refuge]. 'Refuge' should be written at every crossroads so that the murderers should recognize the way and turn there." The Chassidic parallel above perhaps leads to a similar conclusion about the temporal refuge that is Elul. Justice in this instance would be for us to clear and repair every possible route to allow those who have done wrong – whether accidentally or deliberately – to be given some respite and a little sanctuary in order to reflect on, and make amends for their actions. We would often like others to make it as easy as possible for us to apologise for our own misdemeanours; but are we making it as easy as possible for them to do likewise for theirs?
Elul is a signpost at a crossroads in our lives. Judaism gives us this brief window in the year to clear the pathways towards our own atonement, and that of others. Many of us live, as perhaps Moses did, under the various weights of misdemeanours committed long ago that were never resolved, and with a longstanding wish for compassion and understanding for that wrongdoing. Now is the time to clear away all the existing impediments and build all the necessary bridges towards achieving those resolutions. Doing so may just bring a little more justice to the world.
(Also published by Limmud).
I have often wondered whether the placement of this text is entirely deliberate: the only one of the ten commandments of which Moses himself was actually guilty was lo tirtzach - thou shalt not murder - and after he killed the nameless Egyptian and buried him in the sand, he himself fled to Midian to seek refuge. Some may regard Moses’s violent act as heroic - indeed, it is often portrayed as such - but was Moses haunted by it for his entire life? Did he in some way equate, on the grounds of his belief in the pursuit of justice, his own deliberate killing with an accidental one? And did he, at this critical moment just before reiterating the ten commandments, seek compassion and understanding for his own transgression of one of the laws he was about to decree?
It may be that this week's parsha, Shoftim, adds some fuel to this idea, as it refers once again to the cities of refuge, and includes the famous dictum tzedek tzedek tirdof (justice, justice, shall you pursue). Moreover, parshat shoftim is always read on the first Shabbat of the month of Elul – traditionally the period of reflection and repentance leading up to yamim noraim (the High Holy Days). Indeed, there is a beautiful Chassidic idea that draws a parallel between the cities of refuge and Elul – the former being a sanctuary in space for contemplation and atonement, the latter being a similar sanctuary in time. So at this very particular juncture in the Jewish year, the notions of a sanctuary in time, accidental wrongdoing, and the pursuit of justice coalesce in an intriguing and challenging way, and invite us to steady ourselves on the path to teshuva (repentance).
According to the Rambam, the pathway to a physical city of refuge is meant to be as clear as possible. In the Mishneh Torah, he writes that "the court is obligated to straighten the roads to the cities of refuge, to repair them and broaden them. They must remove all impediments and obstacles ... bridges should be built [over all natural barriers] so as not to delay one who is fleeing [to a city of refuge]. 'Refuge' should be written at every crossroads so that the murderers should recognize the way and turn there." The Chassidic parallel above perhaps leads to a similar conclusion about the temporal refuge that is Elul. Justice in this instance would be for us to clear and repair every possible route to allow those who have done wrong – whether accidentally or deliberately – to be given some respite and a little sanctuary in order to reflect on, and make amends for their actions. We would often like others to make it as easy as possible for us to apologise for our own misdemeanours; but are we making it as easy as possible for them to do likewise for theirs?
Elul is a signpost at a crossroads in our lives. Judaism gives us this brief window in the year to clear the pathways towards our own atonement, and that of others. Many of us live, as perhaps Moses did, under the various weights of misdemeanours committed long ago that were never resolved, and with a longstanding wish for compassion and understanding for that wrongdoing. Now is the time to clear away all the existing impediments and build all the necessary bridges towards achieving those resolutions. Doing so may just bring a little more justice to the world.
(Also published by Limmud).
Monday, August 9, 2010
The Writing on the Wall
On the face of it, the news coming in from the UK is pretty good. A survey published last week by JPR, the London-based Institute for Jewish Policy Research, showed that 90% of Jews in Britain believe that Israel is “the ancestral homeland of the Jewish people,” 82% consider Israel to play an important, and even central role in their Jewish identities, and 72% categorize themselves as Zionists, in contrast to only 21% who do not. Furthermore, an estimated 95% of Jews in Britain have visited Israel at least once, 77% agree that Jews have “a special responsibility to support Israel” and 87% agree that Jews are responsible for ensuring “the survival of Israel.”
The report, entitled Committed, concerned and conciliatory: The attitudes of Jews in Britain towards Israel, is the result of the most extensive and definitive research ever conducted on this topic, and in its exploration of some of the political views of the Jewish population of Britain, it contains findings that will warm the hearts of those both on the left and the right of the political spectrum. The dovishness of the community comes across very clearly: 67% favour giving up territory for peace; 74% are opposed to the expansion of existing settlements in the West Bank, and perhaps most strikingly, 52% think that Israel “should negotiate with Hamas in its efforts to achieve peace.” However, at the same time, the hawkishness of the community is also apparent: 72% consider the separation fence/security barrier “vital for Israel’s security” and the same percentage viewed Operation Cast Lead as “a legitimate act of self-defence.” Furthermore, fully 87% of respondents believe that “Iran represents a threat to Israel’s existence.”
We struggled with how to interpret this combination of dovishness and hawkishness when we were initially analyzing the data, but on reflection, came to the conclusion that, in many respects, the apparent paradox captures perfectly the nature of Israel’s ongoing dilemma. The peace versus security equation needs to be balanced on a daily basis; most overtures towards peace involve taking risks on security, and most clamp-downs on security involve damaging prospects for peace. What Jews in Britain are saying – in much the same way as Israelis are saying – is that we want both.
The findings were greeted positively by the British Jewish community’s best known newspaper, the Jewish Chronicle, which ran with the headline “UK Jewish bond with Israel as strong as ever.” Whilst it is distinctly possible to read the data in that way, my personal view is that there are signs of considerable disquiet in the findings, which indicate that all is not quite as rosy as some would like to believe.
Consider the following. In our investigation of the state of Israeli society, 67% agree that there is “too much corruption in Israel’s political system.” Approximately 6 out of 10 believe that both Jewish and non-Jewish minorities in Israel “suffer from discrimination.” Three-quarters think that “Orthodox Judaism has too much influence in Israel’s society” and that includes, surprisingly perhaps, almost half of those who self-define as “Religious.” Each of these findings suggests that a majority of Jews in Britain is looking at these aspects of Israeli society and struggling in some way to reconcile the realities they see with the values they believe ought to underpin a Jewish state. Perhaps it is the allegations against Ehud Olmert or Moshe Katzav, perhaps it is the growing alienation of Arab Israelis, perhaps it is the stranglehold Orthodox authorities have over the conversion process, but whatever the reason, it is clear that these types of difficult issues are leading some Jews in Britain to view Israel through quite critical eyes.
There’s more. A clear majority considers Israel to be “an occupying power in the West Bank.” 40% do not think that Israeli control of the West Bank is vital for Israel’s security. 43% do not believe that Israel has “little or no choice in most of the military action it takes.” And one-third thinks that Israel holds either as much responsibility – or even more responsibility – for the failures of the peace process than its neighbours.
To date, none of this appears to be eating away at the foundations of the relationship Jews in Britain have with Israel. On the fundamentals, the support is still overwhelming. But below the surface, there is evidence to suggest that a significant number of people are starting to ask some probing questions. One can only guess at what the long-term impact will be, but we should not rule out the possibility that the currently strong foundations might begin to crumble in the years to come. Right now, Jews in Britain remain deeply tied to Israel; the future, however, looks far less certain.
(This article was also published in The Jerusalem Post)
The report, entitled Committed, concerned and conciliatory: The attitudes of Jews in Britain towards Israel, is the result of the most extensive and definitive research ever conducted on this topic, and in its exploration of some of the political views of the Jewish population of Britain, it contains findings that will warm the hearts of those both on the left and the right of the political spectrum. The dovishness of the community comes across very clearly: 67% favour giving up territory for peace; 74% are opposed to the expansion of existing settlements in the West Bank, and perhaps most strikingly, 52% think that Israel “should negotiate with Hamas in its efforts to achieve peace.” However, at the same time, the hawkishness of the community is also apparent: 72% consider the separation fence/security barrier “vital for Israel’s security” and the same percentage viewed Operation Cast Lead as “a legitimate act of self-defence.” Furthermore, fully 87% of respondents believe that “Iran represents a threat to Israel’s existence.”
We struggled with how to interpret this combination of dovishness and hawkishness when we were initially analyzing the data, but on reflection, came to the conclusion that, in many respects, the apparent paradox captures perfectly the nature of Israel’s ongoing dilemma. The peace versus security equation needs to be balanced on a daily basis; most overtures towards peace involve taking risks on security, and most clamp-downs on security involve damaging prospects for peace. What Jews in Britain are saying – in much the same way as Israelis are saying – is that we want both.
The findings were greeted positively by the British Jewish community’s best known newspaper, the Jewish Chronicle, which ran with the headline “UK Jewish bond with Israel as strong as ever.” Whilst it is distinctly possible to read the data in that way, my personal view is that there are signs of considerable disquiet in the findings, which indicate that all is not quite as rosy as some would like to believe.
Consider the following. In our investigation of the state of Israeli society, 67% agree that there is “too much corruption in Israel’s political system.” Approximately 6 out of 10 believe that both Jewish and non-Jewish minorities in Israel “suffer from discrimination.” Three-quarters think that “Orthodox Judaism has too much influence in Israel’s society” and that includes, surprisingly perhaps, almost half of those who self-define as “Religious.” Each of these findings suggests that a majority of Jews in Britain is looking at these aspects of Israeli society and struggling in some way to reconcile the realities they see with the values they believe ought to underpin a Jewish state. Perhaps it is the allegations against Ehud Olmert or Moshe Katzav, perhaps it is the growing alienation of Arab Israelis, perhaps it is the stranglehold Orthodox authorities have over the conversion process, but whatever the reason, it is clear that these types of difficult issues are leading some Jews in Britain to view Israel through quite critical eyes.
There’s more. A clear majority considers Israel to be “an occupying power in the West Bank.” 40% do not think that Israeli control of the West Bank is vital for Israel’s security. 43% do not believe that Israel has “little or no choice in most of the military action it takes.” And one-third thinks that Israel holds either as much responsibility – or even more responsibility – for the failures of the peace process than its neighbours.
To date, none of this appears to be eating away at the foundations of the relationship Jews in Britain have with Israel. On the fundamentals, the support is still overwhelming. But below the surface, there is evidence to suggest that a significant number of people are starting to ask some probing questions. One can only guess at what the long-term impact will be, but we should not rule out the possibility that the currently strong foundations might begin to crumble in the years to come. Right now, Jews in Britain remain deeply tied to Israel; the future, however, looks far less certain.
(This article was also published in The Jerusalem Post)
Monday, July 19, 2010
The JPR Israel Survey: Key Headlines
While there are plenty of sensationalist headlines in the findings of JPR’s new Israel Survey, it is extremely important that we do not miss the big picture view of Jews in Britain that the data reveal. Here, there are three overwhelming messages which, together, paint an important and, in many respects, compelling portrait of our community.
The first is that, as a community, we really care about Israel. Almost all of us have visited the country, for most of us it forms an important, even central part of our Jewish identity, and many of us regard it as the ancestral homeland of the Jewish people. That doesn’t detract from our Britishness – most of us have strong British identities and feel comfortable living here – but the fact that Israel exists so powerfully within our Jewish identities goes a considerable way towards explaining why it stirs our emotions in the way that it so often does. It is personal; Israel is a part of who we are. We share in its successes, it hurts us when it is in pain, and it disturbs us when we see it fall short of the standards we would wish it to uphold.
The second is that we really want peace. A clear majority believes in territorial compromise and the two-state solution, and three-quarters of us are opposed to the expansion of settlements. Perhaps because we have been to Israel and seen it for ourselves, perhaps because so many of us have friends and family living there, perhaps because peace is a central value in Jewish tradition, we desperately want to see the country at peace. Indeed, we are so eager to see Israel reconcile its differences with the Palestinians that just over half of us are willing – albeit rather reluctantly and tentatively – to accept the Israeli government conducting negotiations with Hamas, an organization that has, in the very recent past, committed all manner of terrorist atrocities against Israelis. There is something truly extraordinary about that finding, and it should be understood primarily as an indication of just how much Jews in Britain want to see Israel at peace.
The third is that we are very concerned about Israel, in two respects. On the one hand, most of us support the security fence, most regarded Operation Cast Lead in Gaza as “a legitimate act of self-defence,” and almost all of us are deeply worried about the potential threat posed by Iran’s rhetoric and nuclear ambitions. Again, perhaps because we have such strong and personal connections with Israel, perhaps because the memories of Jewish persecution and attacks on Israel continue to be so potent and vivid, we want to ensure that Israelis are safe, and able to live their lives free from the threats of terrorism and hostile attack. There is no evidence to suggest that these attitudes are motivated by anything other than a simple wish to see Israelis live in security.
However, a majority also has real concerns about some of the internal aspects of Israeli society. Whilst most feel that Israel’s democracy is alive and well, many of us are disturbed, for example, about political corruption in the country, and discrimination against both Jewish and non-Jewish minorities. The primary motivation underlying this type of disquiet seems to be that we want Israel to be a country of which we can be proud, and one that lives up to the moral pronouncements included, for example, in its Declaration of Independence.
In essence, the survey findings show that Jews in Britain care deeply about Israel. We are very eager to see it at peace, and are concerned both about the external security threats it faces, as well as the internal issues that seem to weaken some of the values that underpinned the State’s creation. In many respects, respondents have captured perfectly the heart of the dilemma faced by Israel on a day-to-day basis. There is a difficult and precarious balance to be achieved between peace and security, and any compromise Israel makes on either side of that equation has an impact on the other. What Jews in Britain are saying – in much the same way as Israelis are saying – is that we want both.
This article first appeared in The Jewish Telegraph. The report can be accessed here.
The first is that, as a community, we really care about Israel. Almost all of us have visited the country, for most of us it forms an important, even central part of our Jewish identity, and many of us regard it as the ancestral homeland of the Jewish people. That doesn’t detract from our Britishness – most of us have strong British identities and feel comfortable living here – but the fact that Israel exists so powerfully within our Jewish identities goes a considerable way towards explaining why it stirs our emotions in the way that it so often does. It is personal; Israel is a part of who we are. We share in its successes, it hurts us when it is in pain, and it disturbs us when we see it fall short of the standards we would wish it to uphold.
The second is that we really want peace. A clear majority believes in territorial compromise and the two-state solution, and three-quarters of us are opposed to the expansion of settlements. Perhaps because we have been to Israel and seen it for ourselves, perhaps because so many of us have friends and family living there, perhaps because peace is a central value in Jewish tradition, we desperately want to see the country at peace. Indeed, we are so eager to see Israel reconcile its differences with the Palestinians that just over half of us are willing – albeit rather reluctantly and tentatively – to accept the Israeli government conducting negotiations with Hamas, an organization that has, in the very recent past, committed all manner of terrorist atrocities against Israelis. There is something truly extraordinary about that finding, and it should be understood primarily as an indication of just how much Jews in Britain want to see Israel at peace.
The third is that we are very concerned about Israel, in two respects. On the one hand, most of us support the security fence, most regarded Operation Cast Lead in Gaza as “a legitimate act of self-defence,” and almost all of us are deeply worried about the potential threat posed by Iran’s rhetoric and nuclear ambitions. Again, perhaps because we have such strong and personal connections with Israel, perhaps because the memories of Jewish persecution and attacks on Israel continue to be so potent and vivid, we want to ensure that Israelis are safe, and able to live their lives free from the threats of terrorism and hostile attack. There is no evidence to suggest that these attitudes are motivated by anything other than a simple wish to see Israelis live in security.
However, a majority also has real concerns about some of the internal aspects of Israeli society. Whilst most feel that Israel’s democracy is alive and well, many of us are disturbed, for example, about political corruption in the country, and discrimination against both Jewish and non-Jewish minorities. The primary motivation underlying this type of disquiet seems to be that we want Israel to be a country of which we can be proud, and one that lives up to the moral pronouncements included, for example, in its Declaration of Independence.
In essence, the survey findings show that Jews in Britain care deeply about Israel. We are very eager to see it at peace, and are concerned both about the external security threats it faces, as well as the internal issues that seem to weaken some of the values that underpinned the State’s creation. In many respects, respondents have captured perfectly the heart of the dilemma faced by Israel on a day-to-day basis. There is a difficult and precarious balance to be achieved between peace and security, and any compromise Israel makes on either side of that equation has an impact on the other. What Jews in Britain are saying – in much the same way as Israelis are saying – is that we want both.
This article first appeared in The Jewish Telegraph. The report can be accessed here.
Monday, June 7, 2010
The Moral Imperative
"Let me get this straight: Israel just killed humanitarian workers in international waters, and the author has the nerve to call that provocation? Unbelievable."
So writes one individual in response to one of the many journalistic attempts to defend Israel's position in the recent Gaza flotilla affair.
Let's be clear: we are losing the PR battle. Badly. Read the international press, read the talkbacks all over the Internet, witness the worldwide demonstrations, listen to international government statements, watch the TV coverage. It all points in one clear direction: Israel is either becoming, or has already become, morally bankrupt.
Those of us who know Israel well know that such a perception is far from the truth. The country has its faults certainly, and many of the concerns that are being expressed by its close friends around the world are entirely legitimate. Israel needs to clean up its act in all sorts of ways. But, let's not deny that the country is also in an impossible situation that no other nation state could better tolerate or manage. It is being goaded time and time again by those who wish to destroy it, and the tactics that are being employed against it are becoming increasingly clever, sophisticated and dangerous. Yet all of our attempts to re-write the headlines are failing. And miserably so.
Why? In short, because we are operating in defensive mode. Time and again, the headlines are written and the storyline is sealed before we have time to present our version of reality. And when the initial victims of the story are starving Palestinians or abused human rights activists, we do not stand a chance. There is right and wrong in this world, and those deserving the most support are people denied their human rights and attacked by military force. In the eyes of the world, those people are not us.
It is time to change strategy. It is time to move into attacking mode. Not with weaponry, tanks and the pursuit of terrorists, but with wisdom, courage and the pursuit of justice. It is time to write the story that we want to tell, generate the headlines that we want to generate, show the images that we want to show. It is time to respond to Haaretz journalist Anshel Pfeffer’s cry to Diaspora Jewry to tell Israel why it has erred and what to do about it. And, most importantly, it is time to reclaim and live the human rights agenda as a core part of our heritage, our values, and our fundamental way of being. Some of us may well have been trying to do that, but the world’s reaction to the Gaza flotilla affair demonstrates more clearly than ever that we have completely failed.
What does an attacking strategy based on the moral imperative entail? Here are my suggestions:
1) A National Moral Ombudsman
In response to all the criticism that has been levelled against the Israeli government and the IDF in recent years (think Gaza flotilla, think Operation Cast Lead, think Lebanon 2006) Israel should establish a new position of National Moral Ombudsman. It should be held by someone of great standing in the Jewish and wider worlds – perhaps a Nobel Prize winner. Or perhaps it is better structured as a committee of several such people. Either way, the job is (a) where possible, to ensure that all moral issues have been appropriately considered prior to any military action, and, without necessarily having a veto, to approve or disapprove such action accordingly; and (b) where not possible, to examine all of Israel’s military activity on moral grounds after the event and, as a matter of course, publish the findings.
Inevitably, some will argue that this happens anyway - it's the role of the Supreme Court and/or the State Comptroller - and they may well be right. But we need to create a new position or bolster the existing ones for two main reasons: first, Israel needs to make a clear statement about just how seriously it takes its moral responsibilities; and second, it needs to put in place appropriate mechanisms that will limit the possibility of it succumbing to the all-too-real temptations and dangers of unnecessary force.
2) An international Jewish humanitarian aid initiative
It appears that whilst the aid provided by Israel meets the UN-set minimum guidelines of 1,800 calories per-person per-day, it lacks sufficient protein and, as a result, malnutrition is a serious issue. Let me just clarify that: under the terms of the Fourth Geneva Convention, the State of Israel is legally responsible for Gaza, and whilst the people of Gaza are not starving, they are becoming sick in part because the quality of aid we are providing is insufficient.
So let's recruit world Jewry to help solve the problem. Let's work with the Israeli government to create a new international Jewish humanitarian aid initiative or organization. There are several of these already, but we need them either to come together, or to build a new one. Let’s build an international Jewish effort – in close collaboration with the Israeli government and the UN – to ensure that the UN’s recommendations about both the amount of aid and the quality of aid are met. We cannot fully control how (or indeed whether) that aid is appropriately distributed (Hamas or others may choose to undermine our efforts), but let’s make sure that we - the State of Israel and the Jewish People - are doing all in our collective power to ensure that the people of Gaza are receiving enough food of sufficient quality, and let's put a clear and unambiguous end to any suggestion that this is not the case.
3) Create “Habitat for Humanity” in Gaza
Habitat for Humanity is an American charity that enables volunteers to build homes for, and in partnership with, the impoverished. So let’s set up a similar initiative with and for the people of Gaza. Let’s recruit Jews from Israel and the Diaspora, together with Palestinians from Gaza, the West Bank and elsewhere, to rebuild Gaza. Let’s partner with the PA, the State of Israel and the UN and pull in architects, engineers, town planners, builders, plumbers, electricians, painters and decorators to do what needs to be done. There are all sorts of security concerns associated with such a venture of course, but any attempt to sabotage an effort like this is likely to be seen as utterly contemptible. And maybe, just maybe, by working on such a project together, a whole set of new relationships might emerge which would dramatically alter perceptions on both sides of the current divide.
4) Up the ante on the Gilad Shalit campaign
Let’s involve every synagogue, every JCC and matnas, every Jewish school, every Jewish organization throughout the Jewish world in this one. Let’s encourage them to send, or, if possible, personally deliver a small aid package every single day to either the United Nations, the International Red Cross or the Hamas government, with a simple request that it be delivered directly to Gilad Shalit. Let’s generate maximum press, let’s monitor exactly what happens, and let’s see if we can’t change attitudes and opinions throughout the world. But fundamentally, let’s free Gilad Shalit. We did it for Soviet Jewry; now let’s do it for him.
5) Create a “No Hate Speech” certificate
Similar to a kashrut certificate in kosher restaurants, and along the same lines as the Tav Chevrati certificate that is now being awarded to Israeli restaurants, cafes and wedding halls that abide by certain guidelines regarding workers’ rights. In this instance, the no hate speech certificate would be awarded to Israeli and Jewish public bodies – charities, NGOs, Israeli government institutions, educational institutions – that abide by a new set of guidelines concerning the manner in which other people (Jews and non-Jews) are spoken about or represented. To gain the certificate, organizations would have to commit to a no hate speech agenda; certified organizations would be listed as “kosher” on a specially-created website, and would be entitled to use the no hate speech kite mark on any of their publications or publicity.
6) Establish an online dialogue initiative
Every Israeli, every Jew, every Palestinian and every Muslim with a Facebook page should seek to build social links with one another on Facebook. Let’s use the Internet tools that exist to bridge divides, establish links and encourage dialogue. And let’s sing about that from the rooftops. Let’s put advertisements in the international press, sponsored by major Jewish organizations, the Israeli government and Israeli NGOs, saying and demonstrating as clearly as possible, “We Want To Talk.”
Those are my ideas. Some are more practicable than others, and no doubt many people will put up all sorts of barriers to prevent them from gathering steam. You may knock them down with pleasure, but in doing so, come up with better ones that similarly abide by both of the underlying principles in each case: first, the absolute centrality of the Jewish moral imperative within each initiative; and second, the public relations exercise designed to highlight the centrality of the Jewish moral imperative within each initiative.
If we want to see a secure Israel, a supported Israel and a successful Israel, we have to do three things: (1) publicly announce that we are on the side of justice; (2) demonstrate precisely how we are on the side of justice; and (3) genuinely be on the side of justice. We have to overcome our fears, our insecurities and our prejudices, and we have to take some courageous steps that are fundamentally grounded in Judaism's moral imperatives - to be a goy kadosh, a mamlechet kohanim and an or l'goyim. Security will come by building relationships with others, support will come by creating opportunities to partner in shared moral endeavour, and success will come by having the courage to live up to our most fundamental values. We can do no more and no less.
(Also published on Haaretz Makom)
So writes one individual in response to one of the many journalistic attempts to defend Israel's position in the recent Gaza flotilla affair.
Let's be clear: we are losing the PR battle. Badly. Read the international press, read the talkbacks all over the Internet, witness the worldwide demonstrations, listen to international government statements, watch the TV coverage. It all points in one clear direction: Israel is either becoming, or has already become, morally bankrupt.
Those of us who know Israel well know that such a perception is far from the truth. The country has its faults certainly, and many of the concerns that are being expressed by its close friends around the world are entirely legitimate. Israel needs to clean up its act in all sorts of ways. But, let's not deny that the country is also in an impossible situation that no other nation state could better tolerate or manage. It is being goaded time and time again by those who wish to destroy it, and the tactics that are being employed against it are becoming increasingly clever, sophisticated and dangerous. Yet all of our attempts to re-write the headlines are failing. And miserably so.
Why? In short, because we are operating in defensive mode. Time and again, the headlines are written and the storyline is sealed before we have time to present our version of reality. And when the initial victims of the story are starving Palestinians or abused human rights activists, we do not stand a chance. There is right and wrong in this world, and those deserving the most support are people denied their human rights and attacked by military force. In the eyes of the world, those people are not us.
It is time to change strategy. It is time to move into attacking mode. Not with weaponry, tanks and the pursuit of terrorists, but with wisdom, courage and the pursuit of justice. It is time to write the story that we want to tell, generate the headlines that we want to generate, show the images that we want to show. It is time to respond to Haaretz journalist Anshel Pfeffer’s cry to Diaspora Jewry to tell Israel why it has erred and what to do about it. And, most importantly, it is time to reclaim and live the human rights agenda as a core part of our heritage, our values, and our fundamental way of being. Some of us may well have been trying to do that, but the world’s reaction to the Gaza flotilla affair demonstrates more clearly than ever that we have completely failed.
What does an attacking strategy based on the moral imperative entail? Here are my suggestions:
1) A National Moral Ombudsman
In response to all the criticism that has been levelled against the Israeli government and the IDF in recent years (think Gaza flotilla, think Operation Cast Lead, think Lebanon 2006) Israel should establish a new position of National Moral Ombudsman. It should be held by someone of great standing in the Jewish and wider worlds – perhaps a Nobel Prize winner. Or perhaps it is better structured as a committee of several such people. Either way, the job is (a) where possible, to ensure that all moral issues have been appropriately considered prior to any military action, and, without necessarily having a veto, to approve or disapprove such action accordingly; and (b) where not possible, to examine all of Israel’s military activity on moral grounds after the event and, as a matter of course, publish the findings.
Inevitably, some will argue that this happens anyway - it's the role of the Supreme Court and/or the State Comptroller - and they may well be right. But we need to create a new position or bolster the existing ones for two main reasons: first, Israel needs to make a clear statement about just how seriously it takes its moral responsibilities; and second, it needs to put in place appropriate mechanisms that will limit the possibility of it succumbing to the all-too-real temptations and dangers of unnecessary force.
2) An international Jewish humanitarian aid initiative
It appears that whilst the aid provided by Israel meets the UN-set minimum guidelines of 1,800 calories per-person per-day, it lacks sufficient protein and, as a result, malnutrition is a serious issue. Let me just clarify that: under the terms of the Fourth Geneva Convention, the State of Israel is legally responsible for Gaza, and whilst the people of Gaza are not starving, they are becoming sick in part because the quality of aid we are providing is insufficient.
So let's recruit world Jewry to help solve the problem. Let's work with the Israeli government to create a new international Jewish humanitarian aid initiative or organization. There are several of these already, but we need them either to come together, or to build a new one. Let’s build an international Jewish effort – in close collaboration with the Israeli government and the UN – to ensure that the UN’s recommendations about both the amount of aid and the quality of aid are met. We cannot fully control how (or indeed whether) that aid is appropriately distributed (Hamas or others may choose to undermine our efforts), but let’s make sure that we - the State of Israel and the Jewish People - are doing all in our collective power to ensure that the people of Gaza are receiving enough food of sufficient quality, and let's put a clear and unambiguous end to any suggestion that this is not the case.
3) Create “Habitat for Humanity” in Gaza
Habitat for Humanity is an American charity that enables volunteers to build homes for, and in partnership with, the impoverished. So let’s set up a similar initiative with and for the people of Gaza. Let’s recruit Jews from Israel and the Diaspora, together with Palestinians from Gaza, the West Bank and elsewhere, to rebuild Gaza. Let’s partner with the PA, the State of Israel and the UN and pull in architects, engineers, town planners, builders, plumbers, electricians, painters and decorators to do what needs to be done. There are all sorts of security concerns associated with such a venture of course, but any attempt to sabotage an effort like this is likely to be seen as utterly contemptible. And maybe, just maybe, by working on such a project together, a whole set of new relationships might emerge which would dramatically alter perceptions on both sides of the current divide.
4) Up the ante on the Gilad Shalit campaign
Let’s involve every synagogue, every JCC and matnas, every Jewish school, every Jewish organization throughout the Jewish world in this one. Let’s encourage them to send, or, if possible, personally deliver a small aid package every single day to either the United Nations, the International Red Cross or the Hamas government, with a simple request that it be delivered directly to Gilad Shalit. Let’s generate maximum press, let’s monitor exactly what happens, and let’s see if we can’t change attitudes and opinions throughout the world. But fundamentally, let’s free Gilad Shalit. We did it for Soviet Jewry; now let’s do it for him.
5) Create a “No Hate Speech” certificate
Similar to a kashrut certificate in kosher restaurants, and along the same lines as the Tav Chevrati certificate that is now being awarded to Israeli restaurants, cafes and wedding halls that abide by certain guidelines regarding workers’ rights. In this instance, the no hate speech certificate would be awarded to Israeli and Jewish public bodies – charities, NGOs, Israeli government institutions, educational institutions – that abide by a new set of guidelines concerning the manner in which other people (Jews and non-Jews) are spoken about or represented. To gain the certificate, organizations would have to commit to a no hate speech agenda; certified organizations would be listed as “kosher” on a specially-created website, and would be entitled to use the no hate speech kite mark on any of their publications or publicity.
6) Establish an online dialogue initiative
Every Israeli, every Jew, every Palestinian and every Muslim with a Facebook page should seek to build social links with one another on Facebook. Let’s use the Internet tools that exist to bridge divides, establish links and encourage dialogue. And let’s sing about that from the rooftops. Let’s put advertisements in the international press, sponsored by major Jewish organizations, the Israeli government and Israeli NGOs, saying and demonstrating as clearly as possible, “We Want To Talk.”
Those are my ideas. Some are more practicable than others, and no doubt many people will put up all sorts of barriers to prevent them from gathering steam. You may knock them down with pleasure, but in doing so, come up with better ones that similarly abide by both of the underlying principles in each case: first, the absolute centrality of the Jewish moral imperative within each initiative; and second, the public relations exercise designed to highlight the centrality of the Jewish moral imperative within each initiative.
If we want to see a secure Israel, a supported Israel and a successful Israel, we have to do three things: (1) publicly announce that we are on the side of justice; (2) demonstrate precisely how we are on the side of justice; and (3) genuinely be on the side of justice. We have to overcome our fears, our insecurities and our prejudices, and we have to take some courageous steps that are fundamentally grounded in Judaism's moral imperatives - to be a goy kadosh, a mamlechet kohanim and an or l'goyim. Security will come by building relationships with others, support will come by creating opportunities to partner in shared moral endeavour, and success will come by having the courage to live up to our most fundamental values. We can do no more and no less.
(Also published on Haaretz Makom)
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Media Commentary on the Gaza Flotilla
Aside from all the stuff about the boats, the activists, the aid, the terrorists, the IDF, the weapons, the Israeli government, the Turks, the UN, etc., etc., one of the most extraordinary things about this whole affair has been the struggle to win the PR battle. Here is a selection of articles that I have seen (thanks to everyone who shared these with me, especially Jono Rose, who deserves a major chunk of the credit for this as he posted several of them on Facebook, and also to Doubi Schwartz for pointing me in the direction of a handful of others). This began as an exercise in collecting together a number of articles that struck me as interesting; it has become a means of recording media coverage of the whole affair. Just for the record, I don't agree with every view expressed; I have simply tried to include as many different perspectives as possible.
Margaret Atwood, “The Shadow over Israel” (Haaretz)
Gershon Baskin, "Israel's Gaza policy has strengthened Hamas" (Jerusalem Post)
Peter Beinart, "Israel's Indefensible Behavior" (The Daily Beast)
Aluf Benn, "Israel needs national enquiry into deadly Gaza flotilla clashes" (Haaretz)
Andrew Bolt, “Boatloads of bloody-minded pacifists” (Daily Telegraph, Australia)
Bradley Burston, "The Second Gaza War: Israel Lost at Sea" (Haaretz)
Nick Cohen, "Sympathise with Israel, but not the blockade" (The Guardian)
Robi Damelin, "In response to the recent events" (unpublished)
Alan Dershowitz, “Israel’s Actions Were Lawful Though Probably Unwise” (Hudson New York)
Editorial: Israel and the aid covoys: How to make enemies" (The Guardian)
Editorial: “Turkey’s Erdogan bears responsibility in flotilla fiasco” (Washington Post)
George Friedman, “Flotillas and the Wars of Public Opinion” (Stratfor Global Intelligence)
Thomas Friedman, “The Ballgame and the Sideshow” (NY Times)
Thomas Friedman, “When Friends Fall Out” (New York Times)
Leslie H. Gelb, "Israel Was Right" (The Daily Beast)
Jeffrey Goldberg, "On the Disappearance of Jewish Wisdom, Far Out At Sea" (The Atlantic)
Marc Gopin, “A note on the disconnect of world opinion and parochial Jewish opinions on the Flotilla tragedy, and what the future holds” (Unpublished)
Daniel Gordis, “The Storm Ahead” (Unpublished)
Hanan Greenberg, “Hamas refuses to allow aid into the Gaza Strip” (YNet)
David Grossman, “The Gaza flotilla attack shows how far Israel has declined” (Guardian)
Amos Harel, “Straight Into The Trap” (Haaretz)
Harris, Shabi and Beaumont, "Gaza flotilla attack: A week that changed Middle East politics" (The Observer)
Donniel Hartman, “Using Prepared Scripts after Gaza Flotilla Seizure Perpetuates Hateful Rhetoric (Shalom Hartman Institute)
Charles Krauthammer, "Those Troublesome Jews" (The Washington Post)
Bernard-Henri Levy, “Recent entries in my diary” (Haaretz)
Charles Levinson and Jay Solomon, “Israel’s Isolation Deepens” (Wall Street Journal)
Gideon Levy, “Israel has no opposition and no alternative” (Haaretz)
Michel Oren, "An Assault, Cloaked in Peace" (New York Times)
Amos Oz, “Israeli Force Adrift At Sea” (New York Times)
George Packer, “Israel takes the bait” (The New Yorker)
Ilan Pappe, "The deadly closing of the Israeli mind" (The Independent)
Ethan Perlson, "Bibi's unlikely new fan club" (The Daily Beast)
Anshel Pfeffer, "In its hour of need, Israel was let down by the Diaspora" (Haaretz)
Political Desk, IRGC Navy ready to escort Gaza-bound aid convoys (Tehran Times)
Robert L. Pollock, “Erdogan and the Decline of the Turks” (Wall Street Journal)
Queen Rania of Jordan, “Hardliners are now the face of Israel” (The Independent)
Seth Rose, “Israel had no choice over Gaza flotilla” (Guardian)
M. J. Rosenberg, “Lying About the Gaza Flotilla Disaster” (Political Correction)
Ari Shavit, “Fiasco on the High Seas” (Haaretz)
Jacob Shrybman, "Debunking the Gaza Siege Myth" (Huffington Post)
Brian Stelter, “Videos Carry On The Fight Over Sea Raid” (New York Times)
Amir Taheri, "Propoaganda war latest: Tehran 3 Israel 0" (The Times)
Joshua Teitelbaum, “Turkey is calling for a jihad against Israel” (The Guardian)
Khaled Abu Toameh, “Turkey’s Support of Hamas Worries PA” (Jerusalem Post)
Michael J. Totten, "So How About That Blockade?" (Commentary)
Leon Wieseltier, "Operation Make The World Hate Us" (The New Republic)
Michael Sean Winters, "Judging Israel" (National Catholic Reporter)
Rabbi Jonathan Wittenberg, message to his community (New North London Synagogue)
Yagna and Liss, “Israeli Arab MKs face growing wave of death threats” (Haaretz)
Associated Press, “Egypt Restricts Marriage to Israelis” (Jerusalem Post)
The Daily Mash, "Israel Just Making it Easier for Guardian Readers to Look Good"
Haaretz service: Turkish paper releases ‘censored’ photos of beaten Israeli commandos (Haaretz)
Times Online, "Gaza flotilla deaths: The World Reacts"
Turkish press: ‘Censored’ photos of beaten Israeli commandos (Hurriyet)
And here's one from me: Time to write A New Story
Margaret Atwood, “The Shadow over Israel” (Haaretz)
Gershon Baskin, "Israel's Gaza policy has strengthened Hamas" (Jerusalem Post)
Peter Beinart, "Israel's Indefensible Behavior" (The Daily Beast)
Aluf Benn, "Israel needs national enquiry into deadly Gaza flotilla clashes" (Haaretz)
Andrew Bolt, “Boatloads of bloody-minded pacifists” (Daily Telegraph, Australia)
Bradley Burston, "The Second Gaza War: Israel Lost at Sea" (Haaretz)
Nick Cohen, "Sympathise with Israel, but not the blockade" (The Guardian)
Robi Damelin, "In response to the recent events" (unpublished)
Alan Dershowitz, “Israel’s Actions Were Lawful Though Probably Unwise” (Hudson New York)
Editorial: Israel and the aid covoys: How to make enemies" (The Guardian)
Editorial: “Turkey’s Erdogan bears responsibility in flotilla fiasco” (Washington Post)
George Friedman, “Flotillas and the Wars of Public Opinion” (Stratfor Global Intelligence)
Thomas Friedman, “The Ballgame and the Sideshow” (NY Times)
Thomas Friedman, “When Friends Fall Out” (New York Times)
Leslie H. Gelb, "Israel Was Right" (The Daily Beast)
Jeffrey Goldberg, "On the Disappearance of Jewish Wisdom, Far Out At Sea" (The Atlantic)
Marc Gopin, “A note on the disconnect of world opinion and parochial Jewish opinions on the Flotilla tragedy, and what the future holds” (Unpublished)
Daniel Gordis, “The Storm Ahead” (Unpublished)
Hanan Greenberg, “Hamas refuses to allow aid into the Gaza Strip” (YNet)
David Grossman, “The Gaza flotilla attack shows how far Israel has declined” (Guardian)
Amos Harel, “Straight Into The Trap” (Haaretz)
Harris, Shabi and Beaumont, "Gaza flotilla attack: A week that changed Middle East politics" (The Observer)
Donniel Hartman, “Using Prepared Scripts after Gaza Flotilla Seizure Perpetuates Hateful Rhetoric (Shalom Hartman Institute)
Charles Krauthammer, "Those Troublesome Jews" (The Washington Post)
Bernard-Henri Levy, “Recent entries in my diary” (Haaretz)
Charles Levinson and Jay Solomon, “Israel’s Isolation Deepens” (Wall Street Journal)
Gideon Levy, “Israel has no opposition and no alternative” (Haaretz)
Michel Oren, "An Assault, Cloaked in Peace" (New York Times)
Amos Oz, “Israeli Force Adrift At Sea” (New York Times)
George Packer, “Israel takes the bait” (The New Yorker)
Ilan Pappe, "The deadly closing of the Israeli mind" (The Independent)
Ethan Perlson, "Bibi's unlikely new fan club" (The Daily Beast)
Anshel Pfeffer, "In its hour of need, Israel was let down by the Diaspora" (Haaretz)
Political Desk, IRGC Navy ready to escort Gaza-bound aid convoys (Tehran Times)
Robert L. Pollock, “Erdogan and the Decline of the Turks” (Wall Street Journal)
Queen Rania of Jordan, “Hardliners are now the face of Israel” (The Independent)
Seth Rose, “Israel had no choice over Gaza flotilla” (Guardian)
M. J. Rosenberg, “Lying About the Gaza Flotilla Disaster” (Political Correction)
Ari Shavit, “Fiasco on the High Seas” (Haaretz)
Jacob Shrybman, "Debunking the Gaza Siege Myth" (Huffington Post)
Brian Stelter, “Videos Carry On The Fight Over Sea Raid” (New York Times)
Amir Taheri, "Propoaganda war latest: Tehran 3 Israel 0" (The Times)
Joshua Teitelbaum, “Turkey is calling for a jihad against Israel” (The Guardian)
Khaled Abu Toameh, “Turkey’s Support of Hamas Worries PA” (Jerusalem Post)
Michael J. Totten, "So How About That Blockade?" (Commentary)
Leon Wieseltier, "Operation Make The World Hate Us" (The New Republic)
Michael Sean Winters, "Judging Israel" (National Catholic Reporter)
Rabbi Jonathan Wittenberg, message to his community (New North London Synagogue)
Yagna and Liss, “Israeli Arab MKs face growing wave of death threats” (Haaretz)
Associated Press, “Egypt Restricts Marriage to Israelis” (Jerusalem Post)
The Daily Mash, "Israel Just Making it Easier for Guardian Readers to Look Good"
Haaretz service: Turkish paper releases ‘censored’ photos of beaten Israeli commandos (Haaretz)
Times Online, "Gaza flotilla deaths: The World Reacts"
Turkish press: ‘Censored’ photos of beaten Israeli commandos (Hurriyet)
And here's one from me: Time to write A New Story
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Time to write A New Story
It really was a no-win situation from the outset. What do you do with a flotilla of ships carrying activists bent on bringing humanitarian aid to Gaza, but determined, above all, to score a public relations victory against Israel’s blockade? Turn them away? Then Israel stands accused of preventing humanitarian aid from reaching Gazans, and the parallels with historical episodes like the St. Louis or the Exodus are easily, although spuriously drawn. Offer them the chance to dock at an Israeli port? Then they probably refuse, and, if forced, the parallels with historical episodes like the St. Louis or the Exodus again are easily, and again, spuriously drawn. Allow them in? Then the blockade is broken, running the risk of armaments entering the territory, and Israeli civilians being put in danger. Risk face-to-face confrontation? Then people are killed, Israel stands accused of bungling operations and using disproportionate force, the UN goes into overdrive, and a raft of international condemnation comes sailing in, docking happily at every major media portal and outlet across the world.
You have to admire the organisers of the flotilla for that. The purpose of the exercise was only ostensibly to bring humanitarian aid to Gazans; it was really designed to score a public relations victory by telling a story. And the story is a compelling one: the innocent Gazan people need humanitarian aid which the guilty Israelis have been refusing to give them. So the innocent, well-meaning social activists tried to break the blockade and bring the aid themselves, and in response they were met with extreme Israeli brutality which resulted in several fatalities. It’s a great headline-grabbing story, and it achieves perfect full-colour black and white results: Gaza = oppressed, denied, victim; Israel = violent, inhumane, murderer. Viewed from a certain perspective, this whole episode was a brilliantly scripted reality TV show, which ensured that, however the story unfolded, the result was in the bag from the moment the flotilla set sail.
This time, at least, Israel was prepared. They knew about the flotilla weeks in advance, so they had plenty of time to plan. And plan they clearly did. They played through the various scenarios, and were determined not to lose the PR battle. They filmed an Israeli Naval officer addressing a ship and offering to let it dock in Ashdod. They filmed the Israeli troops as they landed on the ships, and quickly released the footage of them being quite viciously attacked. They had footage from the air, footage from the sea, they added explanatory subtitles in English, and got it out to the waiting international media within hours. But, in spite of all this, the condemnation kept coming.
On Facebook, Israel’s supporters also went quickly into overdrive. Armed with Israel’s film footage (quickly available on YouTube), they shared it with friends, found new footage on MEMRI TV, wrote articles and blogs, shared insights, passed comments, etc., all of which was designed to quickly re-write the narrative. But, in spite of all this, the condemnation kept coming.
Why? Why is it that, whatever Israel does, it is condemned? Even when the footage seems to be crystal clear, it makes no difference. They attacked us, yet we are criticized for trying to defend ourselves???
The condemnation keeps coming because of the power of The Story. The dominant narrative surrounding the Palestinians, Gaza, humanitarian aid, occupation, check points, human rights abuses, has Israel clearly cast as the bad guy. That casting is certainly not without some justification. The Israeli response to the threat posed by the flotilla may well have been inappropriate and disproportionate. That it was bungled is completely self-evident. The Israeli actions in Operation Cast Lead in 2008-9 could be similarly criticized. But there are two sides involved in this conflict, and its rights and wrongs are far from being black and white. It remains complex and nuanced, and neither party has justice exclusively on its side. Quite simply, it’s messier than that.
But Israel’s consistent mistake is to try to fight back against The Story. Every time the conflict escalates, the same pattern emerges. The pictures quickly tell The Story. The Story makes it perfectly clear who is in the right and it isn’t Israel. So immediately, the Israeli government, the military, social and political commentators, not to mention the army of Facebook activists, go into reactive defensive mode, trying to tell a different story. And each time they fail because The Story won the battle from the first moment it was told.
Perhaps it is time to change tactics. Instead of reacting to events and going into defensive mode to try to fight back against The Story, maybe it’s time to go into proactive and attacking mode and write The New Story. Maybe it’s time to take our fate into our own hands. Maybe it’s time to stop feeling powerless, and to create our own new sources of power. Maybe it’s time to put an end to the endless condemnation that seems to come with greater and greater force from every corner of the globe. (Blimey, that almost reads like a speech from the First Zionist Congress...)
I suggest taking the offensive on three fronts. First, there is a PR battle to be won. But it won’t be won by simply trying to defend ourselves against The Story. We need to actively create The New Story. We need to write our own script, and create ways to make it live and breathe on an international scale. The villains in The New Story should not be difficult to construct: in general, the world isn’t exactly fond of Islamic extremists, and there are, after all, one or two living in our backyard. And it’s not as if we don’t have a few good men of our own. It’s just that we can’t afford to wait for earthquakes in Haiti to unveil them; we have to put them in front of the camera as often as possible, in motion pictures that are of our own making, not in response to those made by others.
Second, and far more importantly, we need to go on the moral offensive. Going into attacking mode needn’t only involve helicopter gunships, M-16s and rubber bullets. It could also draw on Judaism’s moral imperatives. There are probably countless ways to take the moral high ground, and I have no doubt that others could come up with better ideas than this, but how about a vast international effort – involving Jews in the Diaspora and Israel working in partnership with as many Palestinians as possible – to rebuild Gaza? How about joining together to construct new homes, schools, hospitals, community centres and industries in the area, in order to change the face of the region? How about turning a conflict based on "us" and "them" into a cooperative venture based on "us"? Idealistic nonsense? Perhaps, but I seem to remember that’s what they called Zionism a hundred or so years ago too.
Come to think of it, maybe an effort of this type would end up becoming The New Story. Maybe it would demonstrate that Israelis and Diaspora Jews can in fact come together with the Palestinian people to undertake a massive project to solve the century-old conflict. Maybe it would generate a totally different set of headlines in the international media. Maybe it would alter the discourse at the United Nations. Maybe it would sideline Hamas and reveal its members to be the bigoted extremists that at least some of them are (particularly if they try to undermine the efforts). Maybe it would bring new cause to the Jewish world, and help to foster a renewed sense of energy and collective spirit in the Jewish people. Maybe it would create opportunities for genuine dialogue between Israelis and Palestinians, Jews and Muslims, and create an unprecedented sense of understanding and mutual respect. Maybe it - or a similar type of project - is worth a try, if only to attempt to engineer a shift from Israeli reactive powerlessness to proactive power.
Oh yes – I nearly forgot. The third front. Look, I know Israel didn’t qualify, and even though the USA did, most Americans barely noticed, but I want to suggest that we all watch the World Cup this summer. If we do, we are likely to notice that few, if any teams, play with all eleven players in defence. The reason for this is that doing so would result, at best, in a draw (that’s a “tie” if you’re American). The message is clear: you don’t win anything if you only concentrate on defence. That’s why most, if not all teams, dedicate at least a few players to attack as well. That way, they have a fighting chance of actually scoring a goal or two. We Jews may just have something to learn from that. Just a thought.
You have to admire the organisers of the flotilla for that. The purpose of the exercise was only ostensibly to bring humanitarian aid to Gazans; it was really designed to score a public relations victory by telling a story. And the story is a compelling one: the innocent Gazan people need humanitarian aid which the guilty Israelis have been refusing to give them. So the innocent, well-meaning social activists tried to break the blockade and bring the aid themselves, and in response they were met with extreme Israeli brutality which resulted in several fatalities. It’s a great headline-grabbing story, and it achieves perfect full-colour black and white results: Gaza = oppressed, denied, victim; Israel = violent, inhumane, murderer. Viewed from a certain perspective, this whole episode was a brilliantly scripted reality TV show, which ensured that, however the story unfolded, the result was in the bag from the moment the flotilla set sail.
This time, at least, Israel was prepared. They knew about the flotilla weeks in advance, so they had plenty of time to plan. And plan they clearly did. They played through the various scenarios, and were determined not to lose the PR battle. They filmed an Israeli Naval officer addressing a ship and offering to let it dock in Ashdod. They filmed the Israeli troops as they landed on the ships, and quickly released the footage of them being quite viciously attacked. They had footage from the air, footage from the sea, they added explanatory subtitles in English, and got it out to the waiting international media within hours. But, in spite of all this, the condemnation kept coming.
On Facebook, Israel’s supporters also went quickly into overdrive. Armed with Israel’s film footage (quickly available on YouTube), they shared it with friends, found new footage on MEMRI TV, wrote articles and blogs, shared insights, passed comments, etc., all of which was designed to quickly re-write the narrative. But, in spite of all this, the condemnation kept coming.
Why? Why is it that, whatever Israel does, it is condemned? Even when the footage seems to be crystal clear, it makes no difference. They attacked us, yet we are criticized for trying to defend ourselves???
The condemnation keeps coming because of the power of The Story. The dominant narrative surrounding the Palestinians, Gaza, humanitarian aid, occupation, check points, human rights abuses, has Israel clearly cast as the bad guy. That casting is certainly not without some justification. The Israeli response to the threat posed by the flotilla may well have been inappropriate and disproportionate. That it was bungled is completely self-evident. The Israeli actions in Operation Cast Lead in 2008-9 could be similarly criticized. But there are two sides involved in this conflict, and its rights and wrongs are far from being black and white. It remains complex and nuanced, and neither party has justice exclusively on its side. Quite simply, it’s messier than that.
But Israel’s consistent mistake is to try to fight back against The Story. Every time the conflict escalates, the same pattern emerges. The pictures quickly tell The Story. The Story makes it perfectly clear who is in the right and it isn’t Israel. So immediately, the Israeli government, the military, social and political commentators, not to mention the army of Facebook activists, go into reactive defensive mode, trying to tell a different story. And each time they fail because The Story won the battle from the first moment it was told.
Perhaps it is time to change tactics. Instead of reacting to events and going into defensive mode to try to fight back against The Story, maybe it’s time to go into proactive and attacking mode and write The New Story. Maybe it’s time to take our fate into our own hands. Maybe it’s time to stop feeling powerless, and to create our own new sources of power. Maybe it’s time to put an end to the endless condemnation that seems to come with greater and greater force from every corner of the globe. (Blimey, that almost reads like a speech from the First Zionist Congress...)
I suggest taking the offensive on three fronts. First, there is a PR battle to be won. But it won’t be won by simply trying to defend ourselves against The Story. We need to actively create The New Story. We need to write our own script, and create ways to make it live and breathe on an international scale. The villains in The New Story should not be difficult to construct: in general, the world isn’t exactly fond of Islamic extremists, and there are, after all, one or two living in our backyard. And it’s not as if we don’t have a few good men of our own. It’s just that we can’t afford to wait for earthquakes in Haiti to unveil them; we have to put them in front of the camera as often as possible, in motion pictures that are of our own making, not in response to those made by others.
Second, and far more importantly, we need to go on the moral offensive. Going into attacking mode needn’t only involve helicopter gunships, M-16s and rubber bullets. It could also draw on Judaism’s moral imperatives. There are probably countless ways to take the moral high ground, and I have no doubt that others could come up with better ideas than this, but how about a vast international effort – involving Jews in the Diaspora and Israel working in partnership with as many Palestinians as possible – to rebuild Gaza? How about joining together to construct new homes, schools, hospitals, community centres and industries in the area, in order to change the face of the region? How about turning a conflict based on "us" and "them" into a cooperative venture based on "us"? Idealistic nonsense? Perhaps, but I seem to remember that’s what they called Zionism a hundred or so years ago too.
Come to think of it, maybe an effort of this type would end up becoming The New Story. Maybe it would demonstrate that Israelis and Diaspora Jews can in fact come together with the Palestinian people to undertake a massive project to solve the century-old conflict. Maybe it would generate a totally different set of headlines in the international media. Maybe it would alter the discourse at the United Nations. Maybe it would sideline Hamas and reveal its members to be the bigoted extremists that at least some of them are (particularly if they try to undermine the efforts). Maybe it would bring new cause to the Jewish world, and help to foster a renewed sense of energy and collective spirit in the Jewish people. Maybe it would create opportunities for genuine dialogue between Israelis and Palestinians, Jews and Muslims, and create an unprecedented sense of understanding and mutual respect. Maybe it - or a similar type of project - is worth a try, if only to attempt to engineer a shift from Israeli reactive powerlessness to proactive power.
Oh yes – I nearly forgot. The third front. Look, I know Israel didn’t qualify, and even though the USA did, most Americans barely noticed, but I want to suggest that we all watch the World Cup this summer. If we do, we are likely to notice that few, if any teams, play with all eleven players in defence. The reason for this is that doing so would result, at best, in a draw (that’s a “tie” if you’re American). The message is clear: you don’t win anything if you only concentrate on defence. That’s why most, if not all teams, dedicate at least a few players to attack as well. That way, they have a fighting chance of actually scoring a goal or two. We Jews may just have something to learn from that. Just a thought.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Creativity by Critique: The Unseen Force Behind Innovation
During the year I spent studying in Israel after I graduated high school, I learned an organizational planning formula that consisted of three simple words: vision, critique, method. The formula maintained that any successful communal endeavor requires all three components: a clear and compelling idea of what ought to be, a sharp and engaging critique of what actually is, and a clear plan of how to get from the latter to the former. I have always found it clear, simple, and concise, and for that reason, have returned to it time and again in my work.
Studying and working the past twenty years in London, Jerusalem, Paris, and New York, I have come to appreciate that the notion of vision is essential; it is almost impossible to engage seriously in conversations about Jewish education or community development without questions about vision emerging. The existential vision question (how should the Jewish world be?), as well as the organizational vision question (in what ways does my initiative establish an element of that ideal in reality?), have increasingly become part of normative Jewish educational discourse. Similarly, in the arena of method, analysis, discourse and training focusing on what to do or how to do it are ubiquitous both within and beyond the Jewish world.
However, serious thinking seems to be lacking when it comes to the concept of critique. This is unfortunate because critique may be the primary emotional driver of innovation. By critique I do not simply mean objective analysis of the problem to be solved, but, more importantly, subjective and affective experience of Jewish reality. The decision, for example, to create Limmud — the annual pluralist British Jewish educational conference — was inspired in part by a strong critique: shared feelings of frustration with the British Jewish establishment, the staid Jewish educational scene, and the lack of cross-communal dialogue and exchange.
Other more recent innovations in the U.K. similarly contain within them a powerful and motivating critique of supposed reality. Indeed Jewdas, an innovative and controversial Jewish cultural and educational organization that has become known for events like its “radical cosmopolitan yeshiva,” “PunkPurim,” and a film festival called “Treifspotting,” wears its critique clearly on its sleeve. In many respects, its underlying motivation, and certainly its notoriety, comes from its edgy and often subversive critique of the mainstream community establishment. It rejects community obsessions like “defending the State of Israel and making Jewish babies,” and draws instead for its inspiration from the anarchist and socialist heritage of London’s early twentieth century Jewish East End. Its leadership has even been arrested on occasion: suffice to say not everyone regards the distribution of tongue-in-cheek leaflets promoting the “Protocols of the Elders of Hackney party” at a major public communal event very funny.
Grassroots Jews is another, albeit far less controversial, example. A new spiritual and learning community that began in part because of a clear dissatisfaction with synagogue services on Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, it has actively taken Judaism out of the synagogue and relocated it within informal spaces — people’s homes, Bedouin tents, villas in Tuscany — and has replaced authoritarian and hierarchical models of leadership with far more democratic and collaborative ones. In so doing, it has been partly inspired by an acute critique of the community’s assumptions about the meaning of belonging or affiliation, the neat denominational boxes that comprise its essential structure, and its existing funding models. And its efforts are yielding results: it is offering serious and compelling Judaism and is attracting some of the community’s most passionate and dynamic young adults.
The jury is still out on the latest arrival on the innovation scene, NuMa, but again, the underlying critique is barely concealed beneath the activity. The organizational name says it all — NuMa comes from the Hebrew “Nu… Mah?” which can be loosely translated as “So… what are you going to do about it?!” NuMa’s definition of the “it” is a distinct lack of creative passion in the community, and the organization exists to encourage new thinking and to build networks of people that might work together to instigate new initiatives. The people drawn to it tacitly or explicitly share a critique: the Jewish community is simply not sufficiently well set up to respond to the real problems and challenges that confront us.
The hypothesis emerging out of all three of these examples might be expressed thus: behind every innovation, there is a stinging, convincing, heartfelt, and personal critique. This is not the same as objective analytical criticism. Intellectual analysis clearly differs from emotional critique, and in the context of understanding innovation, what may be really essential to understand is the psychological impact of negative experience. While intellectual objective criticism is certainly valuable, it is rarely associated directly with innovation. Anecdotally, it seems that many of the best innovators feel personally disappointed, aggrieved, angry, short-changed or frustrated about something on a subjective level, and then channel that emotional energy into something that serves as a corrective.
There are other factors, of course, that will inspire individuals and groups to innovate: the desire to belong, the quest for power, the drive to succeed. But underlying it all may be the personal experience or narrative that generates passion for change. Understanding more about that may help us to identify at least one of the jigsaw puzzle pieces of effective innovation.
(Also published in Sh'ma)
Studying and working the past twenty years in London, Jerusalem, Paris, and New York, I have come to appreciate that the notion of vision is essential; it is almost impossible to engage seriously in conversations about Jewish education or community development without questions about vision emerging. The existential vision question (how should the Jewish world be?), as well as the organizational vision question (in what ways does my initiative establish an element of that ideal in reality?), have increasingly become part of normative Jewish educational discourse. Similarly, in the arena of method, analysis, discourse and training focusing on what to do or how to do it are ubiquitous both within and beyond the Jewish world.
However, serious thinking seems to be lacking when it comes to the concept of critique. This is unfortunate because critique may be the primary emotional driver of innovation. By critique I do not simply mean objective analysis of the problem to be solved, but, more importantly, subjective and affective experience of Jewish reality. The decision, for example, to create Limmud — the annual pluralist British Jewish educational conference — was inspired in part by a strong critique: shared feelings of frustration with the British Jewish establishment, the staid Jewish educational scene, and the lack of cross-communal dialogue and exchange.
Other more recent innovations in the U.K. similarly contain within them a powerful and motivating critique of supposed reality. Indeed Jewdas, an innovative and controversial Jewish cultural and educational organization that has become known for events like its “radical cosmopolitan yeshiva,” “PunkPurim,” and a film festival called “Treifspotting,” wears its critique clearly on its sleeve. In many respects, its underlying motivation, and certainly its notoriety, comes from its edgy and often subversive critique of the mainstream community establishment. It rejects community obsessions like “defending the State of Israel and making Jewish babies,” and draws instead for its inspiration from the anarchist and socialist heritage of London’s early twentieth century Jewish East End. Its leadership has even been arrested on occasion: suffice to say not everyone regards the distribution of tongue-in-cheek leaflets promoting the “Protocols of the Elders of Hackney party” at a major public communal event very funny.
Grassroots Jews is another, albeit far less controversial, example. A new spiritual and learning community that began in part because of a clear dissatisfaction with synagogue services on Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, it has actively taken Judaism out of the synagogue and relocated it within informal spaces — people’s homes, Bedouin tents, villas in Tuscany — and has replaced authoritarian and hierarchical models of leadership with far more democratic and collaborative ones. In so doing, it has been partly inspired by an acute critique of the community’s assumptions about the meaning of belonging or affiliation, the neat denominational boxes that comprise its essential structure, and its existing funding models. And its efforts are yielding results: it is offering serious and compelling Judaism and is attracting some of the community’s most passionate and dynamic young adults.
The jury is still out on the latest arrival on the innovation scene, NuMa, but again, the underlying critique is barely concealed beneath the activity. The organizational name says it all — NuMa comes from the Hebrew “Nu… Mah?” which can be loosely translated as “So… what are you going to do about it?!” NuMa’s definition of the “it” is a distinct lack of creative passion in the community, and the organization exists to encourage new thinking and to build networks of people that might work together to instigate new initiatives. The people drawn to it tacitly or explicitly share a critique: the Jewish community is simply not sufficiently well set up to respond to the real problems and challenges that confront us.
The hypothesis emerging out of all three of these examples might be expressed thus: behind every innovation, there is a stinging, convincing, heartfelt, and personal critique. This is not the same as objective analytical criticism. Intellectual analysis clearly differs from emotional critique, and in the context of understanding innovation, what may be really essential to understand is the psychological impact of negative experience. While intellectual objective criticism is certainly valuable, it is rarely associated directly with innovation. Anecdotally, it seems that many of the best innovators feel personally disappointed, aggrieved, angry, short-changed or frustrated about something on a subjective level, and then channel that emotional energy into something that serves as a corrective.
There are other factors, of course, that will inspire individuals and groups to innovate: the desire to belong, the quest for power, the drive to succeed. But underlying it all may be the personal experience or narrative that generates passion for change. Understanding more about that may help us to identify at least one of the jigsaw puzzle pieces of effective innovation.
(Also published in Sh'ma)
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
The Choosing People
Simon Rocker at the Jewish Chronicle has made the following comment about JPR's latest publication, "New Conceptions of Community."
“The traditional Jewish community, bounded by a combination of external hostility and limitations and internal comfort and familiarity, has had its walls battered, breached and broken, not so much by antisemitism but rather by the winds of sociological change. We are now free to come and go as we please.
“…In many respects, we are no longer a chosen people, compelled by God, or fate, or history to be part of the Jewish community, but rather a choosing people, deciding day-by-day, minute-by-minute whether or not we want our Jewishness to inform our lives.”
So writes Jonathan Boyd, executive director of the Insititute for Jewish Policy Reseach in the introduction to a collection of short essays on changing Jewish society and the challenges ahead.
Contributors to New Conceptions of Community range from chief executive of the London School of Jewish Studies Raphael Zarum to Reform executive director Rabbi Shoshana Boyd-Gelfand to Moishe House musician Joseph Finlay. Worth a look.
To see the JC post, click here. To download the publication, click here.
“The traditional Jewish community, bounded by a combination of external hostility and limitations and internal comfort and familiarity, has had its walls battered, breached and broken, not so much by antisemitism but rather by the winds of sociological change. We are now free to come and go as we please.
“…In many respects, we are no longer a chosen people, compelled by God, or fate, or history to be part of the Jewish community, but rather a choosing people, deciding day-by-day, minute-by-minute whether or not we want our Jewishness to inform our lives.”
So writes Jonathan Boyd, executive director of the Insititute for Jewish Policy Reseach in the introduction to a collection of short essays on changing Jewish society and the challenges ahead.
Contributors to New Conceptions of Community range from chief executive of the London School of Jewish Studies Raphael Zarum to Reform executive director Rabbi Shoshana Boyd-Gelfand to Moishe House musician Joseph Finlay. Worth a look.
To see the JC post, click here. To download the publication, click here.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
20 Ideas to Transform Jewish Community Life
Miriam Shaviv, the Foreign Editor of the Jewish Chronicle, invited me to contribute one idea to a series she plans to publish on her JC blog entitled "20 ideas to transform Jewish community life". Each working day in March, she will be publishing a short piece by a different communal figure with one original, innovative suggestion for British Jewry.
Here's my contribution:
A Sukkah in Trafalgar Square
Throughout Sukkot, there ought to be a sukkah in Trafalgar Square. The bigger, the better – halachically, a sukkah can be too low or too high, but there are no restrictions on its length or breadth. It would be staffed by Jewish volunteers and serve as a temporary shelter and soup kitchen – a place for the homeless to come during the day or night for a free hot meal.
Why? First, because a sukkah is a temporary dwelling, a fragile place of refuge that reminds us, in part, of our own vulnerability. Sukkot itself is also a temporary experience – a brief period in the year when we are not protected by the walls, roofs, locks and alarm systems that, for many of us, have become part of our daily existence. In contrast, homelessness is not a temporary state – it is a permanent reality. Could we take a symbol of our own homelessness and exposure, and turn it into a shelter for those who need no symbolic reminders of what it means to have no home or to feel exposed?
Second, the notion of sukkah as soup kitchen bridges the particular and the universal. It both celebrates the particular simcha of a Jewish holiday, and extends our hearts and hands out into the wider world. It actualizes what the sociologist Peter Berger calls “cognitive negotiation,” or what Samson Raphael Hirsch called torah im derech eretz. It helps to cultivate Jews who care about the internal and the external, who are capable of dealing simultaneously with our own challenges and those that beset humanity as a whole.
Third, it clearly associates Judaism with social justice. It makes a clear public statement. To be Jewish is to take responsibility, to reach out to others, to affect change, to create places on earth in which God’s presence can dwell. It demonstrates – in a tangible and genuine way – how Jewish ideas and symbols can, and should be interpreted for good. At a time when religion generally is often associated with violence and extremism, it offers a dramatically different perspective. It should not cost much to set up, but its practical and symbolic value could be immense.
(Also available on the website of the Jewish Chronicle. The JC later published a summary of several of the ideas, and Tablet, an American Jewish daily online magazine, also featured it).
Here's my contribution:
A Sukkah in Trafalgar Square
Throughout Sukkot, there ought to be a sukkah in Trafalgar Square. The bigger, the better – halachically, a sukkah can be too low or too high, but there are no restrictions on its length or breadth. It would be staffed by Jewish volunteers and serve as a temporary shelter and soup kitchen – a place for the homeless to come during the day or night for a free hot meal.
Why? First, because a sukkah is a temporary dwelling, a fragile place of refuge that reminds us, in part, of our own vulnerability. Sukkot itself is also a temporary experience – a brief period in the year when we are not protected by the walls, roofs, locks and alarm systems that, for many of us, have become part of our daily existence. In contrast, homelessness is not a temporary state – it is a permanent reality. Could we take a symbol of our own homelessness and exposure, and turn it into a shelter for those who need no symbolic reminders of what it means to have no home or to feel exposed?
Second, the notion of sukkah as soup kitchen bridges the particular and the universal. It both celebrates the particular simcha of a Jewish holiday, and extends our hearts and hands out into the wider world. It actualizes what the sociologist Peter Berger calls “cognitive negotiation,” or what Samson Raphael Hirsch called torah im derech eretz. It helps to cultivate Jews who care about the internal and the external, who are capable of dealing simultaneously with our own challenges and those that beset humanity as a whole.
Third, it clearly associates Judaism with social justice. It makes a clear public statement. To be Jewish is to take responsibility, to reach out to others, to affect change, to create places on earth in which God’s presence can dwell. It demonstrates – in a tangible and genuine way – how Jewish ideas and symbols can, and should be interpreted for good. At a time when religion generally is often associated with violence and extremism, it offers a dramatically different perspective. It should not cost much to set up, but its practical and symbolic value could be immense.
(Also available on the website of the Jewish Chronicle. The JC later published a summary of several of the ideas, and Tablet, an American Jewish daily online magazine, also featured it).
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Your People Shall Be My People: What is the Big Theory of Jewish Peoplehood?
Podcast of the session I co-presented with Yonatan Ariel at the Limmud conference at Warwick University in December 2009.
Click here to listen.
Click here to listen.
Jewish Community 2.0: How the Internet may be changing the face of Jewish life
It must have been in the early or mid-1990s. I was sitting in my 80-something great-uncle’s kitchen chatting with him over a cup of tea, when he asked me a question that completely stumped me. ‘What’s the Internet?’
I seem to recall that I mumbled something about it being a kind of online magazine with lots of information about more or less everything, but the truth was I really did not know. I had never surfed the net, had no idea what a search engine was, and had only very recently been introduced to the wonders of email. Trying to imagine a similar conversation in 2010, it is difficult enough to conjure up an image of an eighty year-old who is not at least vaguely familiar with the rudiments of the technology, never mind someone in their mid-twenties as I was at the time.
The organized Jewish community may not be known for being at the cutting edge of technological innovation, but it has embraced much of it. Email use has become all-pervasive, organizational websites are a community-wide norm, and there is increasing use of social networking sites such as Facebook and MySpace. However, while there is plenty of evidence of the Jewish community’s embrace of technology, scant attention has been paid to how the Internet may be altering its contours, shape and nature.
Nevertheless, the growing literature on how the Internet may be impacting society as a whole raises some challenging questions for the Jewish community. Regardless of whether analysts ultimately see new technologies as a force for good or bad, they do appear to agree on one key point: the mere existence of the Internet alters our lives in ways we are only just beginning to comprehend. Indeed, two leading commentators with dramatically different views – Jean Twenge, professor of psychology at San Diego State University, and Don Tapscott, researcher, best-selling author and teacher at the University of Toronto – have gone so far as to suggest that the generation born after the late 1970s/early 1980s that grew up with the Internet, should actually be labelled the ‘iGeneration’ or ‘Net Generation’ because of its influence on them. Twenge is a pessimist: her research leads her to conclude that the iGeneration can be characterized by its narcissistic, disrespectful and miserable nature.[1] Tapscott, in contrast, paints a highly optimistic portrait of youthful tolerance, wisdom and collaboration. Nevertheless, the two commentators find common ground in a shared belief that the Internet has changed the very way in which people function, interact, think and learn.[2]
Consider one of Tapscott’s most intriguing insights. In previous generations, education was linear. We worked our way through a prescribed curriculum in a highly ordered fashion, beginning with the first lesson and ending with the last, referring at all times to a set textbook, and deferring at all times to the classroom authority – the teacher. Today, children do more and more of their learning online, and, driven by their personal preferences, interests and needs, explore the vast world of cyberspace on their own terms. In seeking to complete a given task, they do not follow a set pathway; they blaze their own trail, clicking at will on the links that appear most intriguing or compelling. Tapscott’s claim is that learning thus becomes non-linear; there is an inevitable shift away from content-driven education to student-centred learning, and the role of the teacher shifts away from being the authority and towards becoming the enabler. In essence, one of the main debates of educational philosophy – whether to locate content or the student at the heart of the enterprise – has been resolved in favour of the student simply by the existence and pervasiveness of the Internet.
There is also clear evidence that the Net Generation increasingly collaborates online. The image of the loner sitting in front of the computer screen for hours on end may have been true before the advent of Web 2.0, but is not any more. In the past few years, the Internet has shifted from being a platform capable mainly of broadcasting information to individual users to becoming an interactive facility capable of engaging with and responding to user-choice and opinion. As a result, all sorts of shared activities are happening on the Internet: from multi-user video games, through chat groups and file-sharing, all the way to product analysis and creation. Brands are being discussed, opinions are being shared, and articles, activities, music and video are being assessed. Far from the dystopian vision of a world comprised of socially-inept recluses, the Internet is actually building connections between people in new and highly imaginative and intriguing ways.
Indeed, Web 2.0 alters the nature of community. Traditional communities were geographically bound. We mixed with people in our immediate vicinity, and whilst we may have encountered others through business or travel, a combination of internal familiarity and external distrust tended to buttress the real or metaphorical walls that surrounded us. The world was opened up in new ways as a result of the Enlightenment, Emancipation and Industrial Revolution, but it is only as a result of the Internet that we have become able to create forms of community that ignore both natural and man-made boundaries. Today, social networking platforms such as Facebook and MySpace create, sustain and deepen ties across continents and oceans in ways that allow us to remain as up-to-date with someone we have not seen for twenty years, as we might be with someone who lives across the road. Other sites create other communities: Mumsnet allows mothers to ask questions of one another and share wisdom; Beliefnet brings people together from one faith group or many to discuss religious issues and share personal or spiritual concerns; Care2 builds connections between social activists, organizations and responsible businesses from around the world in order to affect social change. Each of these examples, and countless others, build online communities, and in so doing, redefine the very concept of community.
What might all of this mean for the Jewish community? Educationally, it would appear that the shift Tapscott describes – from content-focused education to student-centred learning – means that it is increasingly difficult to teach an established formalized curriculum controlled by a centralized authority. Because Jewish students are, and will continue to be able to explore multiple ideas from multiple sources, any attempt to control or limit that which is ‘kosher’ and that which is not is likely to fail. Any attempt to protect young people from alternative versions of Jewish life and existence (not to mention non-Jewish life and existence), becomes largely impossible. The Internet allows Judaism, in all its various forms and styles, to become freely available and accessible in ways that were completely unimaginable until very recently. It simultaneously locates Judaism alongside every other cultural and religious lifestyle option, and demands that it stand up and be counted in that broad context. It is difficult to predict what the consequences of this will be, but it is clear that, if Judaism is to continue to be a serious choice, the quality, integrity and creativity of the Jewish product will be critical in the ever-expanding marketplace of ideas.
The collaborative culture that Web 2.0 has engendered may also be highly significant from a Jewish perspective. Consumer assessment of products and services is becoming more and more commonplace; applied to Jewish products and services, only the best and most valuable are likely to survive and thrive. We will have to become far more attuned to the needs and wishes of our members or participants, particularly in densely-populated Jewish areas where numerous other educational, spiritual and cultural options exist. Mistakes – particularly those that indicate inconsistency between values and practices – are likely to be costly. Whereas in the past there was a strong sense that individual behaviours were being judged by those in positions of communal authority, the existence of Web 2.0 turns that power balance on its head, enabling individuals to judge the behaviours of communal authorities and institutions, and then share those opinions with the widest possible audience. When the judged become the judges, the world inevitably becomes a very different place.
The result is that new Jewish organizations and initiatives are becoming ever more commonplace. Feeling coerced, bored or alienated by the offerings of the mainstream, more and more committed young Jews are simply bypassing it and setting up on their own. Recent research conducted by the New York-based Jewish innovation research unit Jumpstart identifies more than 300 new initiatives of this type that have been established in the USA over the past decade, reaching in excess of 400,000 Jews. There is evidence to suggest that the UK is following suit – LimmudFest, Grassroots Jews, Wandering Jews, Moishe House, Jeneration are just a handful of examples of new initiatives that have appeared on the British Jewish communal landscape in the last few years. New minyanim are being formed, new educational programmes developed, new social causes highlighted, new websites set up and new cultural forms created. It is difficult to know where this type of activity is heading – whether it is simply a fad or represents the beginning of a fundamental change in the way the Jewish community functions – but there is little doubt that Net Generation Jews feel more empowered than any previous generation to redefine the shape and contours of Jewish life.
Mark Twain is quoted as once saying that ‘The art of prophecy is very difficult, especially with respect to the future.’ Yet several commentators are claiming that the Internet Age may be compared to the Renaissance or Industrial Revolution, and has already changed human society in ways that we are only beginning to comprehend. As two of these commentators write: “For the first time, human beings can act in mass collaboration, using the kind of collective intelligence once reserved for ants and bees, but now with the human IQ driving the mix. The result is a quantum increase in the world’s ability to conceive, create, compute, and connect.”[3] Whether or not this is a good thing depends, of course, on how we use that intelligence.[4] Tapscott’s claim is that the “companies able to adapt to the new demands of the Net Generation will gain a tremendous source of competitive advantage.” His warning, however, is stark: “Those that don’t will be left on the sidelines, unable to refresh their workforces at the Net Generation flows to other opportunities.” Applying these sentiments to the Jewish community, the charge is clear: adapt, or face the consequences.
Notes
[1] Twenge, J. Generation Me. Why Today’s Young Americans are More Confident, Assertive, Entitled – and More Miserable Than Ever Before. (New York: Free Press, 2006).
[2] See: Tapscott, D. Growing Up Digital. The Rise of the Net Generation. (New York: McGraw Hill, 1998), and Tapscott, D., and Williams, Anthony D. Wikinomics. How Mass Collaboration Changes Everything. (London: Atlantic Books, 2007).
[3] Libert, B., and Spector, J. We Are Smarter Than Me. How to Unleash the Power of Crowds in Your Business. (New Jersey: Wharton, 2008).
[4] See: Shirky, C. Here Comes Everybody. The Power of Organizing Without Organizations. (London: Allen Lane, 2008).
(This article was written for the JPR publication, New Conceptions of Community)
I seem to recall that I mumbled something about it being a kind of online magazine with lots of information about more or less everything, but the truth was I really did not know. I had never surfed the net, had no idea what a search engine was, and had only very recently been introduced to the wonders of email. Trying to imagine a similar conversation in 2010, it is difficult enough to conjure up an image of an eighty year-old who is not at least vaguely familiar with the rudiments of the technology, never mind someone in their mid-twenties as I was at the time.
The organized Jewish community may not be known for being at the cutting edge of technological innovation, but it has embraced much of it. Email use has become all-pervasive, organizational websites are a community-wide norm, and there is increasing use of social networking sites such as Facebook and MySpace. However, while there is plenty of evidence of the Jewish community’s embrace of technology, scant attention has been paid to how the Internet may be altering its contours, shape and nature.
Nevertheless, the growing literature on how the Internet may be impacting society as a whole raises some challenging questions for the Jewish community. Regardless of whether analysts ultimately see new technologies as a force for good or bad, they do appear to agree on one key point: the mere existence of the Internet alters our lives in ways we are only just beginning to comprehend. Indeed, two leading commentators with dramatically different views – Jean Twenge, professor of psychology at San Diego State University, and Don Tapscott, researcher, best-selling author and teacher at the University of Toronto – have gone so far as to suggest that the generation born after the late 1970s/early 1980s that grew up with the Internet, should actually be labelled the ‘iGeneration’ or ‘Net Generation’ because of its influence on them. Twenge is a pessimist: her research leads her to conclude that the iGeneration can be characterized by its narcissistic, disrespectful and miserable nature.[1] Tapscott, in contrast, paints a highly optimistic portrait of youthful tolerance, wisdom and collaboration. Nevertheless, the two commentators find common ground in a shared belief that the Internet has changed the very way in which people function, interact, think and learn.[2]
Consider one of Tapscott’s most intriguing insights. In previous generations, education was linear. We worked our way through a prescribed curriculum in a highly ordered fashion, beginning with the first lesson and ending with the last, referring at all times to a set textbook, and deferring at all times to the classroom authority – the teacher. Today, children do more and more of their learning online, and, driven by their personal preferences, interests and needs, explore the vast world of cyberspace on their own terms. In seeking to complete a given task, they do not follow a set pathway; they blaze their own trail, clicking at will on the links that appear most intriguing or compelling. Tapscott’s claim is that learning thus becomes non-linear; there is an inevitable shift away from content-driven education to student-centred learning, and the role of the teacher shifts away from being the authority and towards becoming the enabler. In essence, one of the main debates of educational philosophy – whether to locate content or the student at the heart of the enterprise – has been resolved in favour of the student simply by the existence and pervasiveness of the Internet.
There is also clear evidence that the Net Generation increasingly collaborates online. The image of the loner sitting in front of the computer screen for hours on end may have been true before the advent of Web 2.0, but is not any more. In the past few years, the Internet has shifted from being a platform capable mainly of broadcasting information to individual users to becoming an interactive facility capable of engaging with and responding to user-choice and opinion. As a result, all sorts of shared activities are happening on the Internet: from multi-user video games, through chat groups and file-sharing, all the way to product analysis and creation. Brands are being discussed, opinions are being shared, and articles, activities, music and video are being assessed. Far from the dystopian vision of a world comprised of socially-inept recluses, the Internet is actually building connections between people in new and highly imaginative and intriguing ways.
Indeed, Web 2.0 alters the nature of community. Traditional communities were geographically bound. We mixed with people in our immediate vicinity, and whilst we may have encountered others through business or travel, a combination of internal familiarity and external distrust tended to buttress the real or metaphorical walls that surrounded us. The world was opened up in new ways as a result of the Enlightenment, Emancipation and Industrial Revolution, but it is only as a result of the Internet that we have become able to create forms of community that ignore both natural and man-made boundaries. Today, social networking platforms such as Facebook and MySpace create, sustain and deepen ties across continents and oceans in ways that allow us to remain as up-to-date with someone we have not seen for twenty years, as we might be with someone who lives across the road. Other sites create other communities: Mumsnet allows mothers to ask questions of one another and share wisdom; Beliefnet brings people together from one faith group or many to discuss religious issues and share personal or spiritual concerns; Care2 builds connections between social activists, organizations and responsible businesses from around the world in order to affect social change. Each of these examples, and countless others, build online communities, and in so doing, redefine the very concept of community.
What might all of this mean for the Jewish community? Educationally, it would appear that the shift Tapscott describes – from content-focused education to student-centred learning – means that it is increasingly difficult to teach an established formalized curriculum controlled by a centralized authority. Because Jewish students are, and will continue to be able to explore multiple ideas from multiple sources, any attempt to control or limit that which is ‘kosher’ and that which is not is likely to fail. Any attempt to protect young people from alternative versions of Jewish life and existence (not to mention non-Jewish life and existence), becomes largely impossible. The Internet allows Judaism, in all its various forms and styles, to become freely available and accessible in ways that were completely unimaginable until very recently. It simultaneously locates Judaism alongside every other cultural and religious lifestyle option, and demands that it stand up and be counted in that broad context. It is difficult to predict what the consequences of this will be, but it is clear that, if Judaism is to continue to be a serious choice, the quality, integrity and creativity of the Jewish product will be critical in the ever-expanding marketplace of ideas.
The collaborative culture that Web 2.0 has engendered may also be highly significant from a Jewish perspective. Consumer assessment of products and services is becoming more and more commonplace; applied to Jewish products and services, only the best and most valuable are likely to survive and thrive. We will have to become far more attuned to the needs and wishes of our members or participants, particularly in densely-populated Jewish areas where numerous other educational, spiritual and cultural options exist. Mistakes – particularly those that indicate inconsistency between values and practices – are likely to be costly. Whereas in the past there was a strong sense that individual behaviours were being judged by those in positions of communal authority, the existence of Web 2.0 turns that power balance on its head, enabling individuals to judge the behaviours of communal authorities and institutions, and then share those opinions with the widest possible audience. When the judged become the judges, the world inevitably becomes a very different place.
The result is that new Jewish organizations and initiatives are becoming ever more commonplace. Feeling coerced, bored or alienated by the offerings of the mainstream, more and more committed young Jews are simply bypassing it and setting up on their own. Recent research conducted by the New York-based Jewish innovation research unit Jumpstart identifies more than 300 new initiatives of this type that have been established in the USA over the past decade, reaching in excess of 400,000 Jews. There is evidence to suggest that the UK is following suit – LimmudFest, Grassroots Jews, Wandering Jews, Moishe House, Jeneration are just a handful of examples of new initiatives that have appeared on the British Jewish communal landscape in the last few years. New minyanim are being formed, new educational programmes developed, new social causes highlighted, new websites set up and new cultural forms created. It is difficult to know where this type of activity is heading – whether it is simply a fad or represents the beginning of a fundamental change in the way the Jewish community functions – but there is little doubt that Net Generation Jews feel more empowered than any previous generation to redefine the shape and contours of Jewish life.
Mark Twain is quoted as once saying that ‘The art of prophecy is very difficult, especially with respect to the future.’ Yet several commentators are claiming that the Internet Age may be compared to the Renaissance or Industrial Revolution, and has already changed human society in ways that we are only beginning to comprehend. As two of these commentators write: “For the first time, human beings can act in mass collaboration, using the kind of collective intelligence once reserved for ants and bees, but now with the human IQ driving the mix. The result is a quantum increase in the world’s ability to conceive, create, compute, and connect.”[3] Whether or not this is a good thing depends, of course, on how we use that intelligence.[4] Tapscott’s claim is that the “companies able to adapt to the new demands of the Net Generation will gain a tremendous source of competitive advantage.” His warning, however, is stark: “Those that don’t will be left on the sidelines, unable to refresh their workforces at the Net Generation flows to other opportunities.” Applying these sentiments to the Jewish community, the charge is clear: adapt, or face the consequences.
Notes
[1] Twenge, J. Generation Me. Why Today’s Young Americans are More Confident, Assertive, Entitled – and More Miserable Than Ever Before. (New York: Free Press, 2006).
[2] See: Tapscott, D. Growing Up Digital. The Rise of the Net Generation. (New York: McGraw Hill, 1998), and Tapscott, D., and Williams, Anthony D. Wikinomics. How Mass Collaboration Changes Everything. (London: Atlantic Books, 2007).
[3] Libert, B., and Spector, J. We Are Smarter Than Me. How to Unleash the Power of Crowds in Your Business. (New Jersey: Wharton, 2008).
[4] See: Shirky, C. Here Comes Everybody. The Power of Organizing Without Organizations. (London: Allen Lane, 2008).
(This article was written for the JPR publication, New Conceptions of Community)
Monday, January 4, 2010
One People
Many of the traditional texts that are employed to discuss the notion of Jewish unity and togetherness highlight ideas that are extremely powerful. A shared covenant, a call to be “a light unto the nations” a “kingdom of priests,” and a “holy nation;” notions of shared responsibility, shared pain and shared purpose. Indeed, many of these ideas are so potent, one wonders why our oneness is in such trouble nowadays.
Because the truth is it is in trouble. Denominational differences, political differences, ideological differences, geographical differences, cultural differences are all becoming so pronounced that sociologists of world Jewry increasingly claim that Jewish peoplehood is in a serious state of decline. The reasons for this are many and varied, but two in particular stand out.
First, we simply don’t trust the concept of collectiveness in the way we may have done in the past. There were just too many examples in the 20th century when collective and unifying ideals were used to exclude others, discriminate against others, and, in the worst excesses, commit genocide. Second, and partly in response to the first point, we live in an age of rampant individualism. We prioritise the right to self-fulfilment, to pursue our own dreams, to be true to ourselves, and to be free from any ideas that seek to coercively impose themselves upon us.
Yet the ideas of oneness, unity and community are absolutely central to Judaism. Judaism is not a solitary pursuit – it cannot be done alone. And the moment we embrace the notion of the collective, we inevitably have to compromise somewhat on our individual freedom. So how do we live with both individual freedom and collective responsibility? How to we square the circle and live both as individuals and as members of a collective?
In thinking about this question, I have been drawn to a remarkable text from Pesikta D’Rav Kahana, a midrashic tome dating back to the fifth or sixth century CE. Discussing events at Mount Sinai, it writes the following:
"How is it possible that 600,000 Israelites stood at the foot of Sinai and one Voice addressed an entire people, yet every individual was convinced that the Voice was addressed to him personally? Rabbi Levy answers, 'The Holy One appeared to them as a mirror. A thousand might look into the mirror, but it will reflect each of them. Do not marvel at this, for God spoke to each person according to that person's capacity. Do not wonder at this, for when the manna came down from heaven, each and every one tasted it according to their capacity – the young, the old, the sick, the healthy. So too with the Voice of God: 'the Voice of the Lord in its strength' means the Voice is heard according to the power of each individual. Do not be mistaken because you hear many voices. Know that I am He who was and is One and the same.'"
The suggestion appears to be that, even though everyone present heard exactly the same words, and even though, according to the account in the Torah they responded by saying “n’aseh v-nishma” ("we will do and we will obey"), each individual actually heard something slightly different. Even at Sinai, even at that foundational moment in Jewish history, there were differences between one Jew’s experience and another’s, between what one person heard, understood and committed to, and what another heard, understood and committed to. Yet every one of those interpretations was authentic, real and true.
Fast forward to 2010, and we are comprised of 13 million people, living throughout the world, each of us with a different understanding of Judaism’s core message based on the ideas and values we have received, experienced and understood. Yet, every one of those interpretations is surely legitimate, as it is based on reality as comprehended and internalised by each one of us. As the midrash claims, each one of us has heard the voice of Judaism according to our capacity – and perhaps opportunity – to do so.
If we could adopt this view, we might be able to rebuild our sense of shared responsibility and shared purpose based upon it. Such a position would claim that every Jew’s understanding of Judaism contains within it an element of that One Voice that spoke to us at Sinai. If we remove ourselves from the conversation, we remove a piece of the Divine word; if we silence others eager to participate in the conversation, we do likewise. It is, therefore, the dialogue between us – the imperative to share our own thoughts and to listen intently, respectfully and openly to those of others – that will allow us to genuinely reconstruct the Voice of God, and to hear most authentically the command that emanated out from that place all those millennia ago.
(This is a d'var torah given at the recent Limmud conference as part of its "Chavruta" programme on the theme of "One.")
Because the truth is it is in trouble. Denominational differences, political differences, ideological differences, geographical differences, cultural differences are all becoming so pronounced that sociologists of world Jewry increasingly claim that Jewish peoplehood is in a serious state of decline. The reasons for this are many and varied, but two in particular stand out.
First, we simply don’t trust the concept of collectiveness in the way we may have done in the past. There were just too many examples in the 20th century when collective and unifying ideals were used to exclude others, discriminate against others, and, in the worst excesses, commit genocide. Second, and partly in response to the first point, we live in an age of rampant individualism. We prioritise the right to self-fulfilment, to pursue our own dreams, to be true to ourselves, and to be free from any ideas that seek to coercively impose themselves upon us.
Yet the ideas of oneness, unity and community are absolutely central to Judaism. Judaism is not a solitary pursuit – it cannot be done alone. And the moment we embrace the notion of the collective, we inevitably have to compromise somewhat on our individual freedom. So how do we live with both individual freedom and collective responsibility? How to we square the circle and live both as individuals and as members of a collective?
In thinking about this question, I have been drawn to a remarkable text from Pesikta D’Rav Kahana, a midrashic tome dating back to the fifth or sixth century CE. Discussing events at Mount Sinai, it writes the following:
"How is it possible that 600,000 Israelites stood at the foot of Sinai and one Voice addressed an entire people, yet every individual was convinced that the Voice was addressed to him personally? Rabbi Levy answers, 'The Holy One appeared to them as a mirror. A thousand might look into the mirror, but it will reflect each of them. Do not marvel at this, for God spoke to each person according to that person's capacity. Do not wonder at this, for when the manna came down from heaven, each and every one tasted it according to their capacity – the young, the old, the sick, the healthy. So too with the Voice of God: 'the Voice of the Lord in its strength' means the Voice is heard according to the power of each individual. Do not be mistaken because you hear many voices. Know that I am He who was and is One and the same.'"
The suggestion appears to be that, even though everyone present heard exactly the same words, and even though, according to the account in the Torah they responded by saying “n’aseh v-nishma” ("we will do and we will obey"), each individual actually heard something slightly different. Even at Sinai, even at that foundational moment in Jewish history, there were differences between one Jew’s experience and another’s, between what one person heard, understood and committed to, and what another heard, understood and committed to. Yet every one of those interpretations was authentic, real and true.
Fast forward to 2010, and we are comprised of 13 million people, living throughout the world, each of us with a different understanding of Judaism’s core message based on the ideas and values we have received, experienced and understood. Yet, every one of those interpretations is surely legitimate, as it is based on reality as comprehended and internalised by each one of us. As the midrash claims, each one of us has heard the voice of Judaism according to our capacity – and perhaps opportunity – to do so.
If we could adopt this view, we might be able to rebuild our sense of shared responsibility and shared purpose based upon it. Such a position would claim that every Jew’s understanding of Judaism contains within it an element of that One Voice that spoke to us at Sinai. If we remove ourselves from the conversation, we remove a piece of the Divine word; if we silence others eager to participate in the conversation, we do likewise. It is, therefore, the dialogue between us – the imperative to share our own thoughts and to listen intently, respectfully and openly to those of others – that will allow us to genuinely reconstruct the Voice of God, and to hear most authentically the command that emanated out from that place all those millennia ago.
(This is a d'var torah given at the recent Limmud conference as part of its "Chavruta" programme on the theme of "One.")
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