The Wandering Who: A Study of Jewish Identity Politics (5 page)

Let us review the logic behind this strategy. Chaim Weizmann’s statement regarding English, French and German Jews being primarily Jews is obviously a call for Jews to celebrate their sameness. Being Jewish, according to Weizmann, is an essential characteristic; all other qualities are almost contingent. Thus it would seem that even the ‘good Jews’, those who protest against Israeli atrocities while shouting ‘not in my name’, fall into Weizmann’s trap. First they are Jews and only then are they humanists. In practice, without realising it, they adopt Weizmann’s marginal anti-assimilationist strategy. Weizmann’s strategy is sophisticated and hard to tackle. Even saying ‘I do not agree with Israel although I am a Jew’ is to fall into the trap.
Having fallen into the trap, one cannot leave the clan behind – one can hardly endorse a universal philosophy while being identified politically as a Jew.

In the early days of Zionism, most Jews refused to buy Weizmann’s agenda – they preferred to see themselves as American, British or French people who happened to be Jewish. This dispute between the Western Diaspora ethnic Jew and the Zionist movement developed into a bitter conflict. During their struggle for recognition, Zionists admitted their contempt for the Diaspora Jew. This was essentially the birth of Zionist separatism.

Separatism

‘Before the emancipation, the Jew was a stranger among the peoples, but he did not for a moment think of making a stand against his fate. He felt himself as belonging to a race of his own, which had nothing in common with the other people of the country. The emancipated Jew is insecure in his relations with his fellow-beings, timid with strangers, suspicious even toward the secret feeling of his friends.’
Max Nordau
²⁶
, address at the first Zionist Congress, Basle, 1897

The term ‘separatism’ refers to the process in which a minority group chooses to break away from a larger group. Separation is called for as soon as the marginal political group senses an imminent danger of integration into mainstream society. Separatism refers not only to attempts to create alternative societies, but also to exclusionary practices within marginal communities themselves.

Zionism developed as a reaction to the emancipation of European Jewry, a process that started with the French Revolution and spread rapidly all over Europe during the nineteenth century. By the late nineteenth century, a few prominent, assimilated Jews (such as Nordau, Herzl and Weizmann) realised that emancipation of the Jewish people might lead to the disappearance of the Jewish identity. The Zionist argument, at the time, was simple; ghetto walls had been demolished and yet Jews were failing to integrate into European life. Additionally, the Europeans were accused of being insincerely sympathetic towards Jews. Nordau said ‘The nations which emancipated the Jews have mistaken their own feelings. In order to produce its full effect, emancipation should first have been completed in sentiment before it was declared by law.’
²⁷
The
argument is of a very basic character: first you should love me and only then should you marry me. This idea appears reasonable, but we have to remember that, unlike in a love affair, civil life is based on respect rather than affection. I expect my neighbour to respect me; he may love me too but I can never demand it.

In order to support their views, Zionists created an image of emerging anti-Semitism. Their illustration was far from accurate. In fact, by the late nineteenth century, Jews were already deeply involved in every possible aspect of European civil life. Moreover, the Zionist leaders themselves were highly integrated within their Christian context. But a myth of persistent persecution was needed.

On 15 October 1894 Captain Alfred Dreyfus, the sole Jewish member of the French army’s General Staff, was detained on charges of spying for Germany. Throughout his trial Dreyfus declared his innocence. For many it was clear that Dreyfus was a victim of a despicable racist allegation. Theodor Herzl, a prominent Viennese journalist who traveled to Paris to cover the trial, was moved by the saga and deduced from it that assimilation was doomed to fail. The only solution, according to Herzl, was ‘[a] promised land, where we can have hooked noses, black or red beards … without being despised for it, where we can live at least as free men on our own soil, and where we can die peacefully in our own fatherland’ (Judenstaat, Theodor Herzl). In fact
the Dreyfus trial created a huge surge of gentile support. The French government eventually bowed to public pressure and reduced his sentence. Following the support of French intellectuals and the European left, Zionism lost its grip in France. The French Jews felt truly emancipated. Herzl’s displeasure was evident in the following extract from his diary: ‘[French Jews] seek protection from the socialists and the destroyers of the present civil order … truly they are not Jews anymore. To be sure, they are not Frenchmen either. They will probably become the leaders of European anarchism.’

It would appear that Herzl, a marginal politician, sensed better than anyone else the imminent threat of Jewish integration and assimilation. This example illustrates the essence of separatist ideologies – the aim to put barriers between people. Separatism is a strategy of ghetto-building and Zionists have followed this strategy since the late nineteenth century.

The case of lesbian separatism is very similar. In the 1970s, when women were closing social gaps and achieving greater equality, a radical militant feminism emerged. In her article ‘The Way of All Separatists’
²⁸
, Ludo McFingers writes: ‘They hate men, see women as a sex class, support biological determinism, reject reformism and despise the left.’

The underlying premise of lesbian separatism is that men cannot or will not change. Consequently, women can only guarantee their own freedom by detaching themselves from men. Some separatist women even suggest a need for violent confrontation with men to overthrow their power. Not surprisingly some of the most radical lesbian separatists would prefer to live in a world entirely free of men and some have gone so far as to state that ‘Dead men don’t rape’. This echoes the Israeli popular expression: ‘A good Arab is a dead Arab.’

The similarities between Zionist and feminist separatists are evident. Moreover, from time to time the two radical ideologies merge into a single voice. When it was suggested to the
American Jewish feminist Andrea Dworkin that the idea of
Womenland
was insane she answered: ‘Didn’t they say that about Israel? And didn’t the world think that Theodor Herzl, the founder of the Zionist movement, was a crank? The Jews got a country because they had been persecuted, said that enough was enough, decided what they wanted and went out and fought for it. Women should do the same. And if you don’t want to live in Womenland, so what? Not all Jews live in Israel, but it is there, a place of potential refuge if persecution comes to call … as the Jews fought for Israel so women have the right to execute – that’s right, execute – rapists and the state should not intervene.’
²⁹
Earlier in the same interview, Dworkin, whom the Guardian defined as a ‘far left’ activist, admitted that she ‘remains a supporter of Israel’s right to exist, of the Jewish right to have their own state and the Jewish right to fight back against those who tried and still try to kill them; just as she thinks that women have the right to fight back, even kill, the men who have abused them.’ Dworkin may represent the views of a tiny and insignificant minority but the ideological similarities between Zionism and Feminist Separatism are clear. One significant difference, however, is that Israel possesses hundreds of nuclear bombs.

A long time ago I found that through the replacement of the word ‘woman’ with ‘Jew’ and the word ‘man’ with ‘gentile’, a lesbian separatist text could be transformed smoothly into a radical Zionist pamphlet and vice versa. Lesbian separatism is a form of ‘ultimate feminism’; it requires a shift from the realisation that ‘every woman can be a lesbian’ to the radical perception that ‘every woman should be a lesbian.’
³⁰
Similarly, a Zionist would argue that ‘every Jew should be a Zionist’ rather than that ‘every Jew can be a Zionist’. Some Zionists would go further and argue that since Israel is ‘the state of the Jewish people’ every Jew should be seen as a Zionist. Accordingly, rejection of Zionism by a Jew should be considered an act of treason, or at very least a form of self-hatred.

Naturally, most women would not seriously accept their categorisation by radical feminists. I would say that, at least before the Second World War, the majority of Jews were offended by the Zionist call. It appears that the Holocaust, its exploitation and the unprecedented 1967 Israeli military victory changed the attitude of world Jewry towards Zionism and Israel.

The Holocaust was a ‘Zionist victory’, just as each single rape is interpreted by feminist separatist ideologists as a verification of their theories. As we have seen, marginal politics is maintained by hostility against oneself. In order to sustain marginal politics, the loathing directed against oneself becomes advantageous. Zionists rely upon burned synagogues and some lesbian separatists agitators rely upon rape victims. If there were no burned synagogues around, Mossad would go as far as burning some itself
³¹
. Within the separatist worldview, such behaviour is legitimate because the end is far more important than the means, and the campaign is more important than any moral integrity.

Chapter 4

The
Sabra
, the Settler and the Diaspora Jew

‘The Sabra, Tough and Tender – the native-born Israeli has been given a sobriquet ‘Sabra’ after the wild cactus which flourishes in the arid soil of Israel; the fruit of this plant is prickly on the outside and soft in the inside. This implies that our sabras are tough, brusque, inaccessible and yet surprisingly gentle and sweet within. The nickname is given affectionately and is borne with pride by our young, who enjoy the reputation that they cannot be ‘savoured’ from outward appearances. ‘But you don’t look Jewish’ is the dubious compliment a young Israeli usually receives when he goes abroad. The Sabra is usually a head taller than his father, often blond and freckled, often blue eyed and snub nosed. He is cocky, robustly built, and likes to walk in open sandals in a free-swinging, lazy slouch.’
Tough and Tender, an art installation by Gabi Gofbarg, 1992

As I pointed out in the previous chapter, marginal identities are quick to adopt behavioural codes and symbolic identifiers that make the marginal subject unmistakably distinguishable
.
On the surface it makes sense; the marginal subject celebrates its detachment from mainstream society or collective. It would seem as though the marginal subject was revealing its ‘true self’. Yet, as discussed earlier on, the notion of a ‘true manifested political identity’ cannot be taken seriously. Nonetheless, we can allow ourselves to move one step forward. If the notion of the ‘real self’ is left out, then an external means of identification is required. Such a procedure helps the marginal subject to identify itself, but it also promotes the emerging political identity within the larger social structure.

All things considered, appearance and other symbolic identifiers, such as a special skullcap or badges, are probably far more important than ideological depth. Marginal identities make themselves easily distinguishable in the crowd. This applies to the
Sabra
, the anti-Zionist Jew, the Settler, the orthodox Jew, but also to any other marginal identity.

From a pre-1967 Zionist perspective the
Sabra
(as described above by Gabi Gofbarg) is a separatist Jew. Not only he is different, he also celebrates each of his differences. He is defined in terms of negation in relation to the ‘inauthentic’ Diaspora Jew. ‘Like a wild cactus’ the
Sabra
‘flourishes in arid soil’, while the Diaspora Jew withers in Europe or America. The
Sabra
‘is prickly on the outside and soft in the inside’, while the ‘speculative capitalist’ Diaspora character appears soft on the outside but is extremely shrewd where business is concerned. The
Sabra
is ‘tough and tender’, he can kill like a real ‘man’ when he ‘has to’ but this doesn’t stop him from weeping at the ‘Wailing Wall’ as soon as he has completed an invasion of the Old City of Jerusalem (1967)
³²
. He can ethnically cleanse the entire Palestinian nation on Friday and then attend a ‘Peace Now’ demonstration in Tel Aviv on Saturday evening. Unlike the ‘soft’ Diaspora Jew, the
Sabra
is tough – he is ‘a head taller than his father’. Like a German soldier he is ‘often blond … often blue eyed … He is cocky, robustly built.’ But then unlike a German soldier he is loose, he likes to walk in Biblical sandals in a ‘free-swinging, lazy slouch …’. Basically, he is a kind of a bizarre mixture of an SS commander and a biblical Moses.

As interesting as this caricature may be, there is nothing authentic about this construction. As an Israeli male secular Jew between 1948 and the 1980s, one was destined to participate ‘willingly’ in a collective mimicking of an imaginary
Nuevo Israelite
icon. I guess that this process alone robbed the first Israelis of the capacity to experience anything that may resemble
authenticity. Instead they celebrated their victories through identification with a newly-born Jewish archetype.

The birth of the West Bank Settler Jew (following the 1967 war), a radical messianic militant who plans to confiscate the entire ‘land of biblical Israel’ in the name of God, is an attempt to bring the
Sabra
back home to the
shtetl
. It is an effort to resolve the schizophrenic
Sabra
identity. Like the
Sabra
, the settler walks in Biblical sandals in the winter; like the
Sabra
he is athletic and robustly built (until the age of twenty-two, when he grows a gigantic belly that stands as a symbol for good Jewish health). But then, unlike the
Sabra
, he has a skullcap on his head, his
Tzitzit
³³
falls out of his trousers and patches of hair cover his young face. He is far from being handsome. Needless to say, he doesn’t resemble a
Wehrmacht
soldier. He looks very much like a Diaspora Jew strapped to an Uzi or M16. He looks like a Jew because he is one and he is proud to be one.

As much as the formulation of the
Sabra
identity was a secular Zionist separatist attempt within the context of emerging Jewish nationalism and Jewish identity politics, the West Bank Settler manages to establish a consistent continuum between the Jew, Judaism and Jewish-ness. The settler is a homogenous authentic being. The Settler is fuelled by coherent meanings. Even when he confiscates land or murders a Palestinian family he knows exactly what for. The Wailing Wall, for him, is a sacred place to worship his God. The settler doesn’t shoot and sob; he is driven by conviction. Like the
Sabra
the settler is distinguished by a set of symbolic identifiers: knitted skullcap, Biblical sandals,
tzitzit
, an automatic rifle and a beard. Yet, each of these symbolic identifiers is intrinsically associated with his Judaic belief and the Jewish ideology he upholds. In other words, the settler has managed to bond the ‘inside’ i.e. the Jewish soul and the ‘outside’ namely the appearance, into a meaningful Jewish experience. This fact alone may explain why, along the years, the
Sabra
identity faded away, yet, the settler one matured into an Israeli
political power that is extensively supported by Jewish lobbies around the world.

In historical terms, the West Bank Settler appeared on the scene just after the 1967 Israeli military victory. To a certain extent, the Settler signifies the shift of Zionism into a post-revolutionary movement; while the
Sabra
was destined to move the Jewish State from the ‘dream’ into a material reality, the Settler was there to fill the new reality with clear meaning. The Settler was there to bridge the gap between the Diaspora and
Eretz Yisrael
. If Zionism was initially defined as ‘the negation of the Diaspora’
³⁴
, the settler was there to introduce the new Zionist phase. The settler merged all different aspects of Jewishness into a unified, organic meaning and a simple political practice. He has become the new and most popular interpretation of ‘Jewish home-coming’. From a Jewish perspective, the settler has managed to move Zionism beyond its Separatist phase. It transformed Zionism into an inclusive ‘Jews only’ ideology. It somehow offered an ideology that united the tribe on many levels. This fact may explain the constant rise of the Right in Israel since 1967.

But here is an interesting twist. By bonding
Eretz Yisrael
and the Diaspora into a new Jewish continuum, the Settler replaces the ‘negation of the Diaspora’ (that was inherent to the earlier Zionist discourse) with a ‘negation of the Goyim’ (a return of the Jewish pre-Zionist condition). In the form of Rightwing Zionism, this ideology has matured into the most influential political force in Israel. The reason is simple – it manages to knot together Jewish politics, Judaism and Jewish tribal spirit.

Slowly but surely, this Rightwing ideology, which has its ideological roots within the Settler movement, has managed to unite most of world Jewry behind Zionism. However, this process, also regarded as the Zionification of world Jewry, is not entirely free of faults. It sets Diaspora Jews apart from their surrounding social reality. It halts the process of Jewish assimilation and instead the Jew again becomes a member of a distinct tribe with political and global interests. It also transforms the Diaspora Jewish discourse into a marginal and separatist discourse in the West. By the time a Diaspora Jew is Zionised, he or she is subject to Zionist marginal politics within their respective societies. To a certain extent, this may be seen by some as a great Zionist achievement. Yet it is far from an adequate solution to the Jewish question. It leaves the Diaspora Jew in limbo. He or she is neither assimilated into their surrounding social environment nor settled in a Jewish state.

Also, considering the racist, expansionist Judeo-centric nature of the Jewish State, the Diaspora Jew finds himself or herself intrinsically associated with a bigoted, ethnocentric ideology and an endless list of crimes against humanity.

As we can see, the Jewish political discourse is always set as a form of negation. The political Jew is always against something, or set apart from something else. This is far from being an ideal recipe for a peaceful, ethical life, driven by reconciliation and harmony.