V

Such are the facts, harsh and unalterable. To decry them would be about as effective as the laments of those in the nineteenth century that agrarian society had been more stable than the new urban lifestyles of the industrial economy. The question we must now ask is, what can be done about this new reality? What can Israel promise its fragmented and
disillusioned citizenry? How can it entice its creative class, the engine of the country’s economic growth, to stay and contribute to its prosperity? What can it offer, both to its people and to the world at large, to preserve its edge in a competitive global market?

One thing is certain: Classical Zionism, with its Apollonian ideology and rhetoric, no longer serves as a unifying force in what has become a multicultural market-state. Israel’s founding vision is now doubly out of step with socioeconomic reality. Not only has the country made the transition to an industrial state, thereby reducing its dependence on the land, but it has also gone on to adopt the knowledge economy of the twenty-first century.

The State of Israel has become predominantly Mercurian—and it is a good thing too, as no developed country today can remain Apollonian.²² After all, Mercurian professions have become the mainstay of the global economy, and Israel has been at the forefront of this transition. In 1998, Tel Aviv was included in Newsweek’s list of the world’s top ten new high-tech cities.²³

From a broad historical perspective, we seem to have come full circle. Jewish existence was Mercurian throughout most of its history. It was only classical Zionism, born at a specific historical moment when antisemitism denigrated Jewish Mercurianism as an aberration, that regarded the Jewish commitment to learning as a weakness and sought to replace it with more earthly pursuits.

Today, however, when the global economy is marked by a fluid, borderless dynamic, and Israel itself is a thriving creative market, Zionism must reclaim the Jewish tradition of intellectual excellence. This is the crux of KNI. The celebration of knowledge has always stood at the center of Jewish life; KNI seeks to reinstate it at the heart of the Israeli ethos. Crucially, it is not an abandonment, but a revision of the Zionist mission, recasting its Apollonian goals in Mercurian terms appropriate to the time.

Admittedly, KNI is at this point still only a statement of purpose, a general strategy for the future rather than a detailed program of how it may be realized. And yet, its contours may be outlined even at this rudimentary stage. It calls for Israel to place scientific research, technological development, and creative industry at the top of its priorities; to invest vast resources in education and culture; and to foster knowledge production in all fields.

Though such an immense investment will no doubt be seen as a burden to a country with pressing economic and security needs, Israel cannot afford, in today’s market economy, not to make it. On an immediate level, it is critical to the country’s survival. In the long term, it may serve to bring Israel to the forefront of intellectual and industrial creativity, joining it to the illustrious line of cultural centers throughout the ages: Athens in the fifth century B.C.E., Alexandria some centuries later, Paris in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, Vienna and Berlin at the fin de siècle, New York in the mid-twentieth century—all these cities prized the production of knowledge as an end in itself, regardless of instant economic gain.

However, any attempt to redefine the national vision cannot proceed through top-down ideological indoctrination. Such attempts are bound to fail, certainly in a culture characterized by such extreme divergence of opinion. To gain acceptance by Israeli society, a new unifying ideal must be (i) reflective of Israel’s current sociocultural reality; (ii) rooted in a faithful representation of Jewish history; (iii) inclusive, providing a meaningful statement of identity for as many Israelis—and diaspora Jews—as possible; and (iv) inspiring, offering a sense of hope and direction for the future.

The vision of Israel as a knowledge-nation, I wish to argue, meets these four criteria.

First, it corresponds to the current state of Israeli society. As aforementioned, the country’s economy has for the last two decades been driven by a growing creative sector. Israel has already become, to a great extent, a knowledge society. Although large segments of its population are not, as yet, included in the country’s creative economy, the concept of a knowledge-nation is not elitist; it is in no way intended to defend the interests of privileged groups. On the contrary, it strives to broaden the base of the creative class, on whose size the country’s economy depends.

It must also be emphasized that KNI is not a fig leaf for the kind of unbridled capitalism that leaves the weaker socioeconomic strata behind. There is nothing in the idea of a creative economy that denies the basic values of social solidarity and a strong commitment to the welfare of the population. It is a vision that can appeal both to supporters of social democracy and proponents of the free market, addressing the needs of the poor even as it fulfills the requirements of the wealthy.

Second, KNI is firmly grounded in one of the most distinctive traits of Jewish existence throughout the ages: the primacy of knowledge. Since its very beginning, Jewish tradition has prized learning and literacy.²⁴ Even in pre-rabbinic times, the ancient Hebrews boasted an open-access model of knowledge, and scholarship was never the exclusive province of the elites.²⁵ From the Second Temple period onward, learning ascended to even greater prominence as it became the backbone of Jewish life, its chief occupation and highest value. Communities invested tremendous resources in establishing yeshivot and batei midrash, primary education was a matter of course for every Jewish boy (even when the rest of the world was largely illiterate), and Torah scholars were regarded with utmost respect and admiration.²⁶ Indeed, the great luminaries of Jewish history have been the producers and disseminators of knowledge, from Rabbi Yehuda Hanasi through Maimonides to Rabbi Haim of Brisk. To this, the last two centuries have added an impressive record of secular intellectual excellence. Since their acceptance into Western society, Jews have distinguished themselves in scientific and artistic circles, and they continue to do so to this day:²⁷ Sigmund Freud, Albert Einstein, Heinrich Heine, Marcel Proust, Marc Chagall, Paul Cיlan, Franz Kafka, and Karl Krauss are only a few of the Jews who have made momentous contributions to Western arts and letters.

While the main thrust of this essay examines the prospects of KNI with the somewhat dry tools of social science, based on an assessment of Israel’s current socioeconomic strengths and weaknesses, the ideal it seeks to advance is that of a vibrant nation. Israel’s creativity and vitality go far beyond the success of its high-tech sector. Within a few decades, this young country has established a rich culture of music, literature, film, and theater. Its public discourse is conducted by a wide array of thinkers, writers, and pundits. Though this discourse is often aggressive and bitter, it reflects the tradition of plugta—the animated discussion and dispute that is a celebrated feature of Jewish heritage.

Third, the concept of a knowledge-nation is highly inclusive. It can speak to a whole spectrum of Jewish lifestyles and worldviews. It is, for reasons aforementioned, extremely relevant for the Jewish ultra-Orthodox world, predicated as it is on a culture of study. The Haredi sector could easily find its place in a knowledge society. Though many ultra-Orthodox Jews prefer to protect their children from the influence of the secular worldview, fields such as high tech, finance, or law pose no such threat, being all but divorced from questions of belief and philosophy. Indeed, an increasing number of Haredim today are taking courses in such fields as computer science, law, and accounting.²⁸

KNI can also win the hearts of Russian-speaking immigrants from the former Soviet Union, who cherish all forms of high culture, including science, literature, and music. In fact, the integration of these immigrants into Israeli society was facilitated by the dramatic expansion of the high-tech sector in the 1990s, made possible, among other things, by the aliya of a large number of highly trained engineers during this period.

Moreover, although deeply rooted in the Jewish experience, the notion of a knowledge society can speak to many of Israel’s Arab citizens as well. A growing number of Israeli Arabs are taking part in the country’s system of higher education, and many of them (though nowhere near enough) have already found their way into the creative sector.²⁹

Indeed, as opposed to today’s dominant ethos, KNI has the power to inspire many, if not all, of the different elements of multicultural Israel: Jews and non-Jews, religious and secular, traditional as well as progressive. The great advantage of KNI is that, despite its uniquely Jewish character, it also has a strong universalist aspect. Its inclusiveness and ability to address a broad array of cultural traditions and lifestyles is the key to its success.

Finally, KNI provides both a strategy and a vision for Israel’s future development. As a strategy, it presents the best route for economic growth. Given the country’s lack of natural resources, its only viable avenue of investment is the creative sector, its industry of knowledge. At the same time, KNI offers a new vision, one both deeply anchored in Jewish history and highly relevant to Israel’s new reality.

VI

Yet KNI is not just an objective for the future. It is also a wake-up call for the present. Its emphasis on education presupposes a society that provides its citizens with the opportunity to realize their potential. Creative economies, because they depend on the talent and skill of the individual, invest a great deal in educating and training their populations. In doing so, they allow a growing number of people to express their individual gifts while contributing to society and the economy.

Thus, while the vision of a knowledge-nation attempts to transcend some of the historical changes instigated by Zionism, there are others it seeks keenly to preserve. The very conditions by which Israel has evolved into a thriving creative economy—the foundations of its current success— were laid by classical Zionism. KNI, in this respect, promotes a central tenet of the Zionist legacy: the fundamental importance of education.

The country’s first leaders saw education as one of Israel’s primary strategic goals. Misgivings about the overly cerebral character of diaspora Judaism notwithstanding, early Zionism perpetuated this vital aspect of the Jewish way of life. It did not ask whether it was economically viable to establish a department of Jewish philosophy at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem; it just did. Intellectual giants such as Shmuel Hugo Bergman, Martin Buber, and Gershom Scholem set the highest standards of scholarly distinction in this field, even before the state was founded. Neither did the Zionist movement ask whether the nation needed historians, archaeologists, or pure (as opposed to applied) mathematicians.³⁰ It was accepted as a matter of course that it did; not because such research would further the country’s economy, but because knowledge was to be pursued for its own sake.

Israel allocated tremendous resources to its educational systems, even at times of severe economic crisis. In this, it continued the diaspora communities’ practice of financially supporting educational institutions and promising scholars. Just like the yeshivot and batei midrash of yore, modern Israel built schools and institutes of higher education that drew on both the ancient tradition of Jewish learning and the contemporary accomplishments of Jews in Western academia. As a result, Israeli education attained a level of excellence way out of proportion to its limited resources; in 1964, for instance, local high school students ranked first in the world in the study of mathematics.

Sadly, a shift in national priorities in the 1970s has caused a decline in Israel’s investment in education, with catastrophic results. The academic standard, in both primary and secondary education, has fallen dramatically. The crisis is felt particularly within the country’s ivory towers. Israel’s academic system, once such a source of pride, now suffers from a severe financial breakdown, as well as the above-mentioned brain drain.

The figures are indeed troubling. According to a recent study by Ben-David on the state of higher education, in 1973 Israel had a population of roughly 3.25 million, of which there were 50,000 students taught by 4,389 senior academics. Today, Israel’s population is 7.2 million, of which 250,000 are students taught by a faculty of fewer than 5,000.³¹ While the population has more than doubled, and the number of students has multiplied by five, the number of senior academics has remained almost the same. Not to mention the fact that nearly half these senior academics are over 55 years old and will largely be retiring over the next decade.

Israel is losing its competitive edge and, as far as higher education is concerned, is extremely sub-par when compared to other advanced economies. Its student-faculty ratio is 2.4 times that of the United States.³² The numbers are but a grim reflection of a reality every student and lecturer knows only too well. Four decades ago, studying at the Hebrew University was a profoundly enlightening experience. Professors were challenging and inspiring, and students had plenty of opportunity to avail themselves of their instructors’ wisdom. Today, departments are pressured into accepting huge numbers of applicants, the shortage of professors precludes personal contact, and students are caught in a race for high grades, rarely pausing to ponder the significance of what they are learning.

The difference between the idealistic approach to education prevalent in the country’s formative years and the current crisis is nothing less than staggering. Unfortunately, Israel does not seem to realize that when a country no longer values knowledge and culture for their own sake, it is in danger of losing its raison d'être altogether. KNI thus seeks to revive the Zionist quest for intellectual excellence—not as a nostalgic nod to a glorious past, but as a vital need that is becoming more and more urgent with time.