Act and Comprehend

By Ofir Haivry

Both Judaism and Zionism were predicated on the idea that human fulfillment can only come of correct action. Today’s confusion is the result of the exaltation of principle over deed.

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The Zionist mainstream, beginning with Herzl and Nordau, therefore regarded the return to Zion as a means of, and a precondition for, forming a new awareness, and it opposed the romantic, irrational and messianic tendencies which appeared in the movement. The ultimate goal was the correction of the Jewish consciousness, which according to the Zionists was flawed and threatened in the exile; but the correction of the flaw could not be accomplished in the exile, which had been the cause of the deformity in the first place. Only the path of dwelling in the land would return to the Jewish people its vitality and its destiny, in consequence of which a new consciousness could begin to crystallize. Since this new consciousness would be fashioned in the course of existence in the land, one could not know its content in advance, but must rather wait for it to be produced naturally in the minds of future generations of the native-born. In other words, classical Zionism viewed itself expressly as a practical tool for the rehabilitation of Israeli existence in the land, a precondition of the future Israeli consciousness.

One can assume that an important factor in forming this perception among the leadership of the founding generation of Zionists was the fact that so many of them were steeped in Jewish experience and understanding (sometimes, as in Herzl’s case, against their will)—which was central to their consciousness even when some of them fought against its religious aspects. Because of this background, it would have been difficult for them to imagine that there could come a generation of native-born Israelis, who would, despite the circumstances of their birth, be alienated both from Judaism and from the land in which they were born.

There were also those who argued in favor of a completely different approach, and thought that what was needed first was a spiritual center and not a physical refuge. Men such as Ahad Ha’am and Martin Buber had objected to the political and material character of the solutions suggested by Herzl. Instead, they opined that a “moral renewal” and a national Jewish cultural revival must precede any political activity. The importance of the consolidation of Jewish culture and consciousness was in their eyes a necessary preliminary to the physical efforts of building the national home. Among them were also those who did not believe in the land of Israel as a national home for the Jewish masses at all, intending rather that it should be a spiritual center only, even indefinitely.²⁸

In other words, we see two different trends among those who professed a belief in the renewed connection of the Jewish people with their land: The dominant stream, which advocated directly reconnecting the fates of the people and its land, held that one must first transform Jewish existence, and that only as a result of this sea change would a old-new Israeli consciousness be possible. In opposition to this, there was a second stream, including both Zionists and non-Zionists, which sought to place the fashioning of a new Jewish culture and consciousness before the building of a new Jewish existence.

In practice the supporters of the paramountcy of a spiritual center lost, and the Zionist yishuv was built according to the plan of those who preferred a physical refuge. One can wonder as to what might have been the outcome if the second approach had won—whether the Jewish state would have been established at all in these circumstances—but it seems that in reality there was no option other than the path that was chosen. Since the principal human reservoir for the fulfillment of Zionism was the Jewish population of Eastern Europe, and above all the youth, who were in large part socialist-activist in inclination, it is difficult to see how it would have been possible to enlist them for the national struggle in any other way.

There are many who now argue that the entire Socialist-Zionist movement was no more than a manipulative use of socialist terminology in order to win the support of a majority of the Jewish people for the Zionist leadership’s nationalistic goals, and for their efforts to establish a Jewish state. Those who identify with socialism consider this fact to be execrable—but for those for whom Zionism was always the essential component of Socialist-Zionism, this attitude on the part of David Ben-Gurion and others can only be considered to have been welcome in the long term.²⁹

In any case, there is no doubt that the existence of renewed Jewish settlement in the land has gradually but fundamentally changed (and is still changing) Jewish consciousness, not only in Israel but throughout the world. “Jewish” languages such as Yiddish and Ladino are disappearing, while Hebrew has been resurrected; the Israeli community is growing constantly, while the other communities are being confronted, sooner or later, with either physical or spiritual demise; and Israel is becoming the world locus of Jewish corporeality, replacing the exilic community and the question of its continuity as the chief priority, and as the chief source of identification for the Jewish people as well.

The most outstanding expression of the sea change in the nation’s consciousness is to be found within that Jewish stream which has been most distant from the Zionist effort over the years—the Haredim (“ultra-Orthodox”). The growing involvement of a substantial portion of the Haredi public in issues touching on the fate of the land and the state is an unequivocal sign of a change in national consciousness, resulting from the historical change brought about by Zionism and the Jewish experience in the land. As a consequence, Haredi Judaism finds itself increasingly drawn into active participation in history—to a large degree in spite of itself.

Yet the outcome of Zionism’s battle against the exilic consciousness has been ambiguous. Despite its many successes in creating a melting-pot society with an Israeli identity, the dominant Zionist left allowed elements in the movement to become caught up in an exaggerated struggle against religion—often a brandishing socialist fervor. The result was the alienation of large parts of the Israeli public from their recent Jewish past, without their having attained the desired degree of identification with their distant Hebrew past.

It appears that many of the leaders of Israel’s founding generation were aware of these problems, but thought that they were unavoidable under the circumstances. In any case, they believed that with the passage of time, the reality of dwelling in Zion would have its effect: Sooner or later, the experience of living in the land of Israel would refashion the Hebrew consciousness. Ben-Gurion provided the most outstanding expression of this attitude during his tenure at the helm of the movement, by deliberately refraining from making rigorous determinations regarding the nature and constitution of the State of Israel, since he believed that these could only be decided once the time was ripe—that is, once the borders and the composition of the population were stabilized. In other words, Ben-Gurion was convinced that it would not be right, practically or morally, to attempt to determine the content of the new Israeli consciousness when the country’s geographic and demographic nature was still unformed. And indeed, from the founding of the state, Israel continued to direct its course in the expectation of waves of immigration and territorial changes yet to come—and indeed, they did come.

But today there is need to ask why—despite the far-reaching changes in the experience of Israeli and Jewish existence—the consciousness of the Israeli public continues to be so fragmented; why such a large segment continues to be alienated from its people. Why is Israel confronted with a situation in which there are those who say—and they may constitute a majority among us—that the road and all our expectations have basically reached their end point; that the Israeli existence and consciousness have been unified, and the time has now come to say: We are done with acting, and now we shall comprehend.

X. Sacred and Profane

In the opening of his Divine Comedy, the Italian poet Dante Alighieri describes the losing of one’s way:

Midway in the journey of our life
I found Myself in a dark wood,
for the straight way was lost…³⁰

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