The Unmaking of Israel (28 page)

I do not pretend to have a full policy in mind. I do believe that Jewish history and basic humanity require giving preference to the Darfuri refugee over economic immigrants. On a wall at Yad Vashem, the Holocaust museum in Jerusalem, appears a quotation from an Australian official that demonstrates the world’s indifference to Jewish refugees on the eve of the genocide: “Australia cannot do more. . . . As we have no racial problem, we are not desirous of importing one.” Jewish memory demands that we do not repeat such callousness.

As for Jewish repatriation, it requires giving priority to two overlapping groups of people: Jews and people persecuted as Jews. In the latter group, someone with one paternal Jewish grandparent and no particular sense of being Jewish might conceivably face discrimination or even death threats because of her neighbors’ racial anti-Semitism somewhere in the world. She should be allowed entry even at a lower level of danger than normally necessary to qualify for asylum. If the same person wants to move from Azerbaijan to Israel only to improve her standard of living, she should get in line with the other economic immigrants. This distinction requires amending the Law of Return, which in its current form grants automatic entry to anyone with one Jewish grandparent.

The more difficult problem is who qualifies as a Jew. This is where the state cannot avoid religious issues. Most secular Jews retain a sense that “Jewish” implies religious as well as ethnic identity. Most religious Jews still think of Jew as a tribe, not just a faith community.

A classic Israeli Supreme Court case demonstrates the complexity. In 1962, a Catholic monk known as Brother Daniel—or by his given name, Oswald Rufeisen—demanded to be recognized under the Law of Return. Rufeisen had been born as a Jew in Poland. During the Holocaust, he was hidden in a convent, began reading the New Testament, converted to Catholicism, and eventually became a monk. He later came to Israel and sought citizenship as a Jew. Under religious law,
halakhah
, he had a case: in
halakhah
, someone born a Jew always remains a member of the tribe; accepting another faith is a sin, but it doesn’t cancel one’s Jewishness.

The court, however, ruled that the Law of Return was civil law, and that the word
Jew
in it had to be understood in its everyday meaning as used by Israelis (by which the justices clearly meant Hebrew-speaking Israelis, which is to say, Jews). And even for the most secular, postreligious Israeli, someone who actively converted to another religion ceased being a Jew. Therefore, Brother Daniel was not a Jew. Note the ironies: The court rejected religious law. It insisted on a civil definition. Yet the civil definition of Jewish ethnicity contained a religious element.

Similarly, the everyday meaning of
Jew
in Hebrew includes converts to Judaism as Jews, adopted members of the ethnic group. That certainly does not mean the Israeli on the street accepts the current state rabbinate as the arbiter of valid conversion—or that the Israeli on the street has carefully formulated for himself or herself what conversion entails. The common denominator of imprecise answers would probably include giving up one’s previous faith, practicing Judaism in some way, and—if living outside Israel—belonging to some kind of Jewish community. Conversion cannot be something undergone purely to immigrate to Israel for economic reasons. An immigration policy must include a more precise definition, and not leave the matter to the discretion of suspicious government clerks, and certainly not to state-salaried clerics. That definition will include religious elements, meaning that the state will have to occasionally make decisions about religious identity. This is messy, contradictory, and unavoidable, and should be the maximum extent of government involvement in religion.

If a non-Jewish Israeli citizen decides to convert to Judaism, on the other hand, there is no reason it should concern the government. More widely, the distinction between Jew and non-Jew may be a factor in immigration policy, but from the moment someone receives an immigrant visa, the distinction should no longer matter. There should be one process of naturalization, applying equally to Jews, to economic immigrants, and to non-Israeli spouses of citizens, including the Nablus-born husband of an Arab citizen of Israel.

What of Palestinian return? The logic of a two-state arrangement is that Jews express self-determination in the Jewish state and have the right of repatriation to it; likewise, ethnic Palestinians must have the right of repatriation to the new Palestinian state—not to Israel.

This does not erase the need for Israel to recognize—for the sake of justice and of reconciliation—that its creation was a disaster for the Palestinians. Israeli actions were a major reason for that disaster, even if it occurred during a war imposed on Israel. As part of a peace agreement, Israel may well agree to the symbolic return of a small number of the descendants of refugees. More important, it should help in the resettlement of Palestinians within their new state. But translating the Palestinian right of return into a prerogative for millions of Palestinians to return to the pre-1948 homes of their families would create the same disastrous consequences that I have described for a one-state “solution.” It would also displace millions of present-day Jews who had no role in the events of the Nakba.

A last point about repatriation: Israel should accept Jewish immigrants, but the national project of seeking out immigrants is another example of continuing to pursue outdated goals and values. The early Zionist belief in “negating the Diaspora” has passed its expiration date. The Diaspora is not disappearing, Israel is not underpopulated, and demographic anxiety about preserving a Jewish majority should fade away after Israel’s borders are restored.

This is just part of an overdue rethinking of Israel’s relation with the Diaspora, especially with American Jewry. In the past, many American Jews thought of Israel as a replacement for the lost Jewish “old country” of Eastern Europe—and therefore imagined it as a country-sized shtetl, impoverished and about to be overcome by Islamic Cossacks. The image has served Jewish fund-raisers and hawkish Israeli politicians seeking Diaspora support, but it is profoundly ahistorical. It ignores Israel’s transformation into a developed country, its military strength, and its opportunities for peacemaking—some of which have been seized, and some squandered.

A realistic and fruitful relationship between Israel and Diaspora Jewry should not be based on fear of physical destruction. What Israel, especially a reestablished Israel, offers the Diaspora is a place where the public arena is largely Jewish: where the language of newspapers, of edgy experimental novels, and of nightclubs is Hebrew; where everyone gets off work for Jewish holidays and one does not feel out of place celebrating them; where the standards of physical beauty are shaped by how Jews look; where “assimilation” properly refers to Ghanaian immigrants holding their church services on Saturday; and where the question of whether being Jewish has anything to do with religion is a natural part of the national debate.

What Diaspora Jews should give Israel—now, immediately, without waiting—is a reminder that we were strangers in Egypt, in Russia and Germany, even in America. They can remind Israelis of the urgency that the minority experience gives to liberal values. They can support organizations in Israel, as they do in the Diaspora, that advocate human rights and the separation of religion and state. They can help fund institutions that teach Judaism as it deserves to be taught, as a faith that deepens respect for every human being. Instead of pretending that Israel is the country they want it to be, or giving up on it because it is not, they can help make it that country.

The greatest responsibility, though, naturally falls on Israelis, on us who live here.

History is not an inevitable process, of redemption or of decay. It is not written in advance. In fact, even the past is constantly being rewritten. The choices that Israel makes now will determine whether its beginnings are remembered as the birth of a failed state or of a successful democracy.

The changes I’ve described—ending the occupation, guaranteeing full equality, separating state and synagogue—require a much smaller revolution than did the establishment of the country. They are not only possible, but also essential to Israel’s future.

We can allow Israel to continue unmaking itself, or we can choose to remake it.

Acknowledgments

Writing this book has been a journey with many guides.

At the start of my search for sources, I was fortunate to benefit from the suggestions of Menachem Friedman, Yehudah Mirsky, Kimmy Caplan, Nahum Karlinsky, Avi Raz, Avi Bareli, Paul Scham, and Shlomo Fischer, all of whom were generous with their time and expertise. Dror Etkes shared his wide knowledge and documentation of the settlement enterprise, along with his encouragement and unflagging energy. Hagit Ofran of Peace Now’s Settlement Watch team and Nir Shalev of Bimkom likewise provided vital background on settlements, planning procedure, and land law. Attorneys Michael Sfard and Shlomy Zecharia not only gave me vital background on the complex legal situation in the West Bank but also access to the documentary record of key litigation. Busayna Dabit of the New Israel Fund–Shatil Mixed Cities Project provided background and access to activists in Akko and Jaffa.

Shira Robinson was kind enough to share her dissertation on the Israeli military government in the first years of the state. Miriam Billig helped me with her research articles on settlement, and Jonathan Fine gave me added insights on his doctoral research on the transition from British rule to an independent state in 1948.

I am grateful to David Kretzmer and Theodor Meron for their incisive explanations of international humanitarian law. Yaron Ezrahi, as always, set me off in new directions with his insights into Israeli politics and culture. Ze’ev Bauer, Stuart Cohen, Louise Fischer, Daniel Gottlieb, Lev Grinberg, Yehudit Karp, Menachem Klein, Ronald Krebs, Yagil Levy, Michael Melchior, Arye Naor, Moshe Negbi, Gretchen Peters, Yosseph Shilhav, Shlomo Tikochinski, Avigail Yinon, and other scholars gave of their time and knowledge. A. Rashied Omar, Mustafa Abu Sway, and David Cook were quick to assist me with their knowledge of Islamic texts. Naturally, I am solely responsible for how I chose to interpret the ideas and information that have been shared with me so generously.

Documentary evidence is the bedrock of historical research. My access to previously classified papers on settlement in the occupied territories from the Israel Defense Forces Archive was the result of a suit before the High Court of Justice, in which I was represented by attorney Avner Pinchuk of the Association for Civil Rights in Israel. Avner’s unstinting work on the case lasted nearly six years. I am deeply appreciative of his dedication and of ACRI’s support.

I am also grateful for the assistance of the staff at the Israel State Archives, the Knesset Archives, the Menachem Begin Heritage Center Archives, the Israel Defense Forces’ memorial library for fallen soldiers, the Registrar of Nonprofit Organizations (Rasham Ha’amutot), and the Hebrew University Law Library. In my research for this book and previous projects I have benefited from the collections in the archives in a number of settlements, including Neveh Tzuf, Ofrah, Kfar Etzion, and Merom Golan. Einat Hurvitz of the Israel Religious Action Center gave me access to legal correspondence regarding the funding of the Od Yosef Hai yeshivah, and Matti Friedman shared the documents he uncovered in his investigation of land claims at Migron. Peter Demant’s collection of early Gush Emunim documents continued to yield fascinating information. My research assistant, Anna Reznikovski, was invaluable in sorting through published sources of information.

To add to the written material, I interviewed people who have been involved in the events described in this book and experts who have followed those events closely. I have also used interviews conducted over many years of reporting. In a few cases, there are reasons to withhold interviewees’ names; otherwise, they are listed in the bibliography. I am thankful to all who shared their time with me.

Sharon Ashley and Ronnie Hope, my former colleagues at the
Jerusalem Report
, read the manuscript as I wrote, and their comments reminded me of what a pleasure it was to work with them. Sometimes I was sensible enough to take their suggestions.

I am thankful to my agent, Lisa Bankoff, and to my editor, Tim Duggan, at HarperCollins, whose support has been essential.

Most important, this book would not have been possible without the enormous patience of my children, Yehonatan, Yasmin, and Shir-Raz—and most of all, without the help, encouragement, wisdom, and love of my wife, Myra Noveck.

—Jerusalem, January 2011

Notes

Abbreviations