National Scholar Updates

"Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power." -Abraham Lincoln

Differentiating between legitimate and abusive uses of power and authority by rabbis and (other Jewish leaders) has been a concern for the Jewish community ever since the advent of Rabbinic Judaism following the destruction of the second temple. The great rabbinic authorities of the Mishna and Talmud were aware of the potential for abuse of power, and even while establishing their authority, they established ways of limiting this authority, for example, the traditions of debate and of the (respectful) acknowledgement and careful setting down of minority opinions. Even those whose views or behavior were considered heretical were not written out of our tradition. Despite, or perhaps because of, the need to govern the Jewish people without the usual political and military tools, discourse was privileged over dictatorship. Despite, or perhaps because the Jewish people lived as a minority among powerful others, Jewish tradition emphasized restraint in the exercise of power, and developed narrow legal rulings that were sensitive to local and even individual conditions.

Today, however, most rabbinic institutions actually oppose presenting or examining the merits of points of view other than their own. In place of careful consideration of the merits of different opinions before offering a halakhic ruling, these points of view are ignored, ridiculed, or besmirched, and their owners are vilified as evil enemies of Torah. Instead of seeking to understand the social, religious, and economic realities of specific communities, they presume to know what is best for everyone without bothering to consult them. Our knowledge and experience as psychologists (one clinical, one organizational) leads us to assert that the growth of rabbinical authoritarianism, the abuse of rabbinic power, and other pressures for conformity-not the voices they are attempting to censor-are the biggest threats to the future of Judaism and to the nature of the Jewish State.

As psychologists and as halakhic Jews, we believe that the legitimate exercise of authority is a positive force in both individual and communal spheres. We point out that the root of the word authority comes from the Latin augere-to create, to enlarge, and to make grow. Authority shares its root with the words "augment" and "author," words that speak of growth and creativity. In a relationship of authority there is a source of creative energy, a recipient of that energy, and finally, what is created or achieved. Fundamentally, authority is generative. You can see its dynamic at work in a variety of positive human relationships-with a parent, a teacher, a doctor, a community leader-in which someone outside of ourselves helped us to achieve some good outside of ourselves. Authority is distinguished by the fact that the energy that flows from it-which specifies the rights and responsibilities in relationship to it-is not for itself. The energy that flows from authority is transformed through the process of its transmission into growth in others.

Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah, a second-century C.E. talmudic leader, is a Jewish example of leadership by authority. When he took over from Rabban Gamliel, he cancelled the latter's policy that restricted attendance at the Bet Midrash to only the most elite students. Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah opened up the Bet Midrash, added hundreds of benches, a policy that won talmudic approval. The Talmud notes that on the day that the Bet Midrash was opened to the masses, the most difficult problems were solved.

Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik, perhaps the quintessential Modern Orthodox rabbinic authority, was opposed to authoritarianism and its use of coercion to enforce adherence to mitzvoth. (See Thinking Aloud by Rabbi David Holzer, for specific examples.) How much more strongly would he have opposed the use of coercive measures to produce the extra-halakhic conformity that has now become the norm for acceptance as a "truly" Orthodox Jew?

Authoritarianism is entirely different from authority: Authoritarianism is about power. Authoritarianism serves the few who want to dominate the many. In contrast to the growth-enhancing dynamic of authority, authoritarianism is aimed at reducing freedom by imposing conformity and restricting individual development. Authoritarianism is a repressive force whose tactics include coercion, force, manipulation, exclusion, and humiliation. The energy that flows from authoritarianism is designed to amass and maintain power and domination, to control people's lives.

Judaism's concern about the perils of authoritarianism goes back at least as far as the prophet Samuel who preached against the institution of monarchy (Samuel I 8:8-11). Samuel warned that unchecked centralized power would seek to accumulate and increase, that kings will take and not give. Finally, he predicted that the abuse of power would become unbearable. And Samuel was right; the Israelites were not well served by their kings, despite the existence of a counterbalancing institution, the Prophets, who were charged with speaking truth to power.

Much later in Jewish history the Hasmoneans assumed the monarchy. As priests, they combined religious and political leadership roles-to the detriment of both. Hasmoneans were authoritarian, ruthless rulers who corrupted the institution of the priesthood.

Power and influence are heady stuff. In a series of recent role-playing experiments, researchers simulated experiences of power, and found that "powerful" participants condemned the cheating of others while cheating more themselves. Moral hypocrisy comes easily to the powerful.

We see that social science studies concur with what the Torah and history both demonstrate: that is, when power becomes centralized and authoritarian, it inevitably leads to a disconnect between the leaders and their followers, between the leaders' public judgment of what is just and right and their own private behavior, between the public interest and the leader's personal and political benefit.

The Authoritarian Worldview

According to scholars who have studied the phenomenon, an authoritarian worldview is characterized by the following ideas (each is illustrated with a position popular in at least some quarters of the Orthodox community.)

The world is made up of "Us" and "Them."

The fractionalization of Orthodox groups creates smaller and more particularistic in-groups that place all other Jews in the out-group category. Freud referred to this type of phenomenon as "the narcissism of small differences."

Although the existence of multiple groups may superficially appear to represent diversity, in fact each group is authoritarian, requiring more and more conformity in order to fit in and carry its particular label. For example, Frumster, a dating website, asks its members to self-describe by choosing one of seven categories for Orthodox, four for the Orthodox-Conservative continuum, and one for everyone else.

"We" are good, and "They" are bad.

Many Orthodox people argue that we are a holy people-but non-Jews and their culture are at the root of most of the evil in the world; the rest is attributed to the rebellion of Conservative and Reform Jews.

We need to get them before they get us!

This is a defensive posture that perceives threats everywhere and leads to intolerance, hatred, and even violence. Furthermore, this stance leads to the interpretation of any action that we don't like as anti-Semitism.

The ends justify the means.

Since "our" values are right and true, we are justified in doing whatever we need to maintain our power and position. Financial fraud is accepted among some Ultra-Orthodox Rabbis, if they believe it is to the advantage of a worthy cause of theirs.

It is fine to have punitive attitudes toward the weak.

Authoritarians disdain those who are weak or of lesser status. Choosing conversion as an arena in which to exert power reflects this attitude-prospective converts are very low status; they are weak and vulnerable. Sexual exploitation of prospective converts and of children are crimes that demonstrate this attitude-they are two of the most vulnerable and powerless groups. Additionally, failure to resolve the institutional oppression of agunot reflects institutional indifference to these most powerless women.

Subservience toward authority is vital.

Authoritarians disdain those they view as below themselves and are very submissive toward those they see as being strong and above themselves. Rabbis in the Hareidi or Hassidic hierarchy defer to those with more (perceived) power-even if it means backtracking from a position that they had taken-even a public one-and they often claim that they had been "deceived" into taking the original position.

The Rabbinical Council of America's capitulation to the Israeli Rabbanut regarding conversion procedure and personnel credentialing is another sorry example. Despite widespread acknowledgment of the Rabbanut's deficiencies of integrity, competence, and reliability, the perceived power of the Rabbanut was sufficient reason for the RCA to overturn centuries of the Diaspora tradition of local rabbinical autonomy and leadership.

Groupthink

Authoritarianism and the abuse of power by rabbinic leaders are not the only sources of behavior and thought control in the Orthodox community. Groupthink exerts an additional set of pressures to conform to an increasingly narrow, exclusionist view of what it means to be a Torah committed Jew, and is perhaps even more nefarious since it arises from within the community membership. For those who are unfamiliar with the term, groupthink is a type of thinking that occurs in cohesive groups, where the desire to remain a member of the group and to maintain consensus, overrides critical thinking and leads to faulty group decisions. Irving Janis, who researched historical fiascos created by groupthink, defined it as "A mode of thinking that people engage in when they are deeply involved in a cohesive in-group, when the members' strivings for unanimity override their motivation to realistically appraise alternative courses of action." While group cohesion provides the foundation needed for groupthink to develop, Janis has suggested that insular, homogeneous groups that have directive leaders and that experience stress from external threats are particularly vulnerable to groupthink. We suggest that these are attributes of current Orthodox Judaism, and that our community displays all of the symptoms of groupthink described by Janis and his colleagues. The symptoms are listed below, followed by real-life examples from within the Orthodox community.

Symptoms of groupthink

1. Illusions of invulnerability create excessive optimism and encourage risk-taking.

Example:
There is a widespread belief that social problems such as substance abuse, spousal or child abuse, and addictive gambling are less prevalent in the Orthodox community than elsewhere, even when there are no reliable statistics, or that the statistics indicate otherwise. When a scientific study by Rachel Yehuda, Ph.D., Michelle Friedman, M.D., Talli Y. Rosenbaum, P.T., Ellen Labinsky, Ph.D., and James Schmeidler, Ph.D., published in the American Journal of Psychiatry, found that the Orthodox women in their sample were sexually abused at about the same rates as other women, Avi Shafran, representative of Agudath Israel, sprang into action, claiming not only that the survey was biased, but also that "the Torah-observant population is greatly underrepresented in the realms of societal ills like rape, AIDS, prostitution and marital infidelity that affect their less repressed neighbors," while simultaneously admitting that he has no statistics to back up his claim. He just knows.

Other leaders within the Orthodox community dismissed the results of the survey by saying that "approximately 40 percent of the respondents were ba'alei teshuva, and therefore, their experiences are irrelevant to those raised in Orthodox homes."

2. The group rationalizes warnings that might challenge the group's assumptions.

Example:
Consider the following explanation of the outrage over Rav Eliezer Melamed's endorsement of soldiers' refusal to obey orders to attack Jews: "Secular zionists, who by and large built Israel are accused of trying to dismantle Israel, because their motives for creating the State was not based in Torah. Only Torah Jews imbued with a nationalist impulse stand in their way. Those who built it-right and left-have been trying to dismantle it for well over a decade and a half-and only Torah Jews imbued with a nationalist impulse stand in their way."

Another example: Yitzhak Kakun, editor-in-chief of the Shas weekly Yom Le'Yom claimed that the arrests of members of the Syrian Jewish community of New Jersey and Brooklyn, on suspicion of money laundering was an anti-Semitic plot cooked up by the FBI.

3. There is unquestioned belief in the morality of the group, causing members to ignore the consequences of their actions.

Example:
In offering an explanation of why leading Hareidi religious figures (and others) allowed Leib Tropper and EJF to control conversions, Rabbi Steven Pruzansky wrote that "Gedolei Torah-and most rabbis-are incapable of recognizing true evil and hypocrisy. Call it the ‘Yitzchak Avinu and Esav Syndrome.' I have been in the presence of Gedolim, and they live on a plane of purity and saintliness where such incidents-while theoretically possible; after all, the Tanakh is filled with stories of the foibles of great people-are not considered practical possibilities. Most never encounter salaciousness, degradation, and the dark side of man." (Pruzansky blog, Dec 23, 2009)

Another example of this willfully amoral mindlessness is the increasingly frequent reference to "Daas Torah is hefekh daas Baalei Batim," (Lay understanding is the opposite of Torah wisdom), a phrase that insulates rabbis ("Gedolim") from criticism and replaces serious, respectful dialogue with contempt for anyone else's perspective. (For a sensitive treatment of this issue, see Rabbi Yossi Ginzberg's December 29, 2009 post on the blog, "Emes Ve-Emunah.")

4. The group promotes stereotyping of those who are opposed to the group as weak, evil, biased, spiteful, disfigured, impotent, or stupid.

Examples:
Consider the following quotations:
"The Conservatives begin the process with a desired result in mind (abolishing the mehitza, permitting cohanim to marry divorcees, counting women in the minyan, etc.) They are quite adept at manipulating the halakha to achieve that result, twisting and turning the words of our sages until they are "saying" what the Conservatives want them to say." (Pruzansky blog, Dec 4, 2009)

"The feminist movement ravaged the American family." (Pruzansky blog, Nov 29, 2009)

As another example, When Nofrat Frankel and the "women of the wall" attempted to read from a Sefer Torah in the women's section at the Western Wall, they were accused of doing it solely for political purposes, and of "inverting every relevant fact in order to make [their] argument" (Yaakov Menken, "The right to disrupt your prayers" Cross currents, November 30, 2009). Commented one of the readers of this column: "Getting arrested for wearing a tallit makes this woman a martyr for egalitarian rights and for civil rights. This gives the small group of non-Orthodox Jews in Israel a way to be noticed. Otherwise, they are totally ignored."

A common theme is to accuse others of nefarious motives, even when they have stated benign or benevolent ones. How exactly is it that the in-group members know the motives of others so much better than the others know their own motives? Or are they accusing them of deception and trickery?

5. Direct pressure (aka peer pressure) is used to conform placed on any member who questions the group, couched in terms of "disloyalty."

Example:
Rabbi Norman Eisenstein announced that no judge on a conversion court would be accepted if he believed the universe was more than 5,770 years old.

6. The group self-censors ideas that deviate from the apparent group consensus.

Example:
For a clear and compelling example of this, think of the number of people who you know who have altered their publicly expressed opinions or behavior (or asked family members to change theirs) in order to not threaten the matchmaking options of their children. In cases we know personally, a young man was denied permission to go to college because of the danger it posed to his sisters' marriage opportunities, while middle-aged couples have stopped going to the movies (although they will watch the same films at home, in private) for the sake of their children's potential "shiddukhim."

7. Illusions of unanimity among group members is promoted; silence is viewed as agreement.

Example:
Everyone might disagree, but everyone thinks that everyone else agrees:
You conform to a certain dress code in order to fit into the group-"I don't think there is anything wrong with wearing pants...but..."

8. The group has self-appointed mind guards, who shield the group from dissenting information. These can be group leaders who guide the flock and weed out dissenters, and who cultivate a negative attitude about talking to outsiders. These are often Hareidi journalists and columnists.

Example:
Forbidding Hareidim to use the internet, Rav Yisrael Hager, the son of the Vishnitzer Rebbe, called on the community to refrain from buying tefilin and mezuzoth from anyone connected to Hareidi websites. The Rav's comments came at the start of the Shovavim period (the period that begins with the reading of Parashat Shemot and ends with Parashat Mishpatim), a time that the Kabbalists teach is auspicious for repentance. The Rav added that children from families with internet connections should not be accepted to schools, and that rabbis and teachers who do not conform to this policy should not be employed as teachers.

Overall, groupthink encourages overestimation of the group's power and morality, closed-mindedness, and pressures toward uniformity, and leads to defective decision-making. Although some of these examples are from the Hareidi rather than the Centrist/Modern Orthodox community, not all are. The symptoms of groupthink are increasingly observable in C/MO groups as well. If we don't want critical decisions facing the Jewish community to be defective, we need to be more vigilant about preventing, or disrupting groupthink.

Preventing Groupthink

The best way to prevent or disrupt groupthink is to eliminate or avoid the conditions under which it occurs. Although it is not likely that we can remove the external threats to the continued existence of the Jewish people, we can address the three others:

1. Directive leadership
2. Isolation of the group from outside sources of information and analysis
3. Homogeneity of members ideology and social background

1. Directive leadership is a "command-and-tell," military-style leadership, which is helpful in critical situations of imminent threat, but has been identified as a chief cause of defective group process and poor outcome for decision-making in groups. A good leader is capable of a variety of leadership styles, adjusting the style to suit the situation.

2. & 3. That openness to outside sources of information and analysis helps counteract the groupthink tendency is self-evident, but the advantages of diverse groups may need some explanation. The advantages of diversity are not just our ideological bent-there is a good deal of research on the advantages (and disadvantages, to be honest) of diverse groups in terms of organizational functioning:

Diverse groups tend to be more creative and are better at problem-solving than are homogenous groups. When groups include people with different types of education and experience, they have a richer deliberation about the best course of action. Diversity helps an organization become more adaptable and flexible in responding to a rapidly changing world, while attracting and retaining its best members. Diversity, though, does increase turnover within the group, making it less socially integrated than groups of people who are all alike. Nevertheless, suspicion and hostility toward diverse opinion and demographics cause long-term harm to the group.

Conclusion and Recommendations

Recently, a number of young, educated, sincerely religious Israeli couples decided to reject the Rabbanut system entirely and make independent wedding plans. They arranged their own halakhically correct marriages and were willing to be officially considered common-law husband and wife rather than participate with that disreputable institution. Will this become a trend? Let us hope there is still time for it to serve as an illustrative warning. This is what happens when leadership fails: the best and most capable will not stand for it.

Religious authority in Judaism is meant to be a force for affirmative growth, to help us on our way toward becoming a "nation of priests" and a "light unto the nations." Authoritarianism won't get us there.
Just as we accept that we are subject to invisible physical influences, such as gravity or bacteria, we need to understand at a deep level-both individual and communal, lay and clergy-the workings of psychological forces on our reasoning and judgment, opinions and behavior. We need to foster the humility to recognize our vulnerability to the easy temptations of authoritarianism and the pitfalls of groupthink. Since these forces operate outside our awareness, we recommend the following changes in organizational structure and process to help keep them at bay:

1. Intentional organizational self-reflection. Self-reflection, or heshbon hanefesh, is a religious obligation for individuals and is a recommendation whenever national calamity strikes. The Orthodox, religious Zionist community undertook such self-reflection following the assassination of Yitzchak Rabin and, at least for a while, the community made changes. Today, the parade of scandals in the religious community is a calamity that calls for self-reflection, particularly for religious and lay leadership. As a first step, independent professional consultation should be engaged on a regular basis to meet with leadership for the express purpose of examining their thinking process and power relationships.

2. Transparency and lay oversight. Since any individual or group with power, left unchecked, will tend to tip, however unintentionally, toward policies of self-interest, it is essential to be able to examine rabbinical decisions against standards of logic, fairness, and consequences for community concerns. This in no way threatens their halakhic expertise and authority. Rather, it refines and extends it.

3. Make a conscious, declared decision to incorporate diversity as a hedge against the inroads of fundamentalism. For too long now, the Modern Orthodox/Centrist rabbinical leadership has been busy looking over its right shoulder, defensive about its authenticity in the face of attacks from the religious right. Nevertheless, we continue to affirm the value of secular study, while acknowledging that at times it may present a religious challenge; we accept the risk, based on our beliefs. Similarly, while it is true that diversity in organizations entails some risk, it is a better choice than paranoia, black-and-white thinking, and hypocrisy, which are characteristic of authoritarian organizations.

For Further Reading:

Altemeyer, Bob. The Authoritarian Specter. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1996.
Holzer, Rabbi David. The Rav: Thinking Aloud. New York: Holzer Publishing, 2009.
Janis, Irving Lester. Groupthink. Psychological Studies of Policy Decisions and Fiascoes. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1982.
Lammers, Joris, Stapel, Diederik A. and Galinsky, Adam. "Power Increases Hypocrisy: Moralizing in Reasoning, Immunity and Behavior." Psychological Science (in press).

The Odyssey and Kibbud Av va-Em

By Martin Lockshin

The Jewish content of Daniel Mendelsohn’s acclaimed 2006 memoir, The Lost: A Search for Six of the Six Million, was obvious.  But his latest memoir, An Odyssey: A Father, A Son, An Epic, appears to have no direct relevance to Judaism.  Still, the issues he raises about relationships between parents and children are relevant for Jews who take seriously the mitzvah of honoring parents.

Mendelsohn is a professor of classics at Bard College.  His book describes the year or so beginning when his 81‑year‑old father, Jay Mendelsohn, a retiree who had had a successful career in Mathematics and Computer Science, sat in on Daniel Mendelsohn’s seminar on Homer’s Odyssey.

Jay had promised to just listen as an auditor, but instead, he participated actively in the classroom discussion, often advocating interpretations that conflicted with his son’s.  After the course, father and son went together on a Mediterranean cruise that visited the locations described in Homer’s Odyssey.  Shortly after the cruise, Jay had a stroke and soon thereafter died.

Mendelsohn is a great writer, and I had trouble putting the book down. As someone who taught Homer’s Odyssey in a “great literature of the Western world” course at York University, I felt a personal connection.  Also, when I turned sixty, my son, Noam Lockshin, took me on a trip to the areas of France and Germany where the Bible commentators whose works I study, Rashi and Rashbam, lived and were educated.

Mendelsohn explores the tension between the worldview of the humanist and that of the mathematician.  Jay is constantly saying things like: “A crime is a crime.  If you’ve done wrong, you’ve done wrong.  There’s no gradations in breaking the law.  It’s either not broken or it’s broken. That’s what justice is.”  Or “You can’t argue with numbers.”  Or “Only science is science.” He considers Daniel’s work, the interpretations of texts, to be “subjective, impressionistic, a matter of opinion.” Daniel, on the other hand, who had always excelled in the Humanities, did poorly in Mathematics and never understood, or even bothered to try to understand, his father’s work.

Mendelsohn shares the insights that he, his father, and his students had into Homer’s Odyssey.  He walks us through all 24 “books” (as the chapters of the Odyssey are called) excerpting the classroom give‑and‑take.  Like many excellent teachers, Mendelsohn is self-critical, always trying to improve his teaching.  He reflects on how little we understand about how teaching works.  “One of the strangest things about teaching,” he writes, “is that you can never know what your effect will be on others; can never know, if you have something to teach, who your real students will be, the ones who will take what you have to give and make it their own . . . can never really know which of the young people clustered around the seminar table is someone whom the teacher or the text has touched so deeply, for whatever reason, that the lesson will live beyond the classroom, beyond you.”

Homer’s Odyssey’s plot line is so simple that, as Mendelsohn points out, Aristotle summed it up in three sentences:

A man [the Greek hero, Odysseus] has been away from home for many years; Poseidon [the god of the Sea who dislikes Odysseus] is always on the watch for him; he is all alone.  As for the situation at home, his goods are being laid waste by the Suitors [who wish to marry his wife whom they incorrectly presume to be a widow], who plot against his son.  After a storm-tossed journey, he returns home, where he reveals himself, destroys his enemies and is saved. (Aristotle’s Poetics)

Just like Mendelsohn’s An Odyssey, much of the complexity of Homer’s Odyssey arises out of the relationships between fathers and sons.  (Readers who are interested in the relationship between the son in Homer’s Odyssey and his mother, on the other hand, might enjoy reading Margaret Atwood’s The Penelopiad.)

In Book 2 of Homer’s Odyssey, the goddess Athena says that “Few sons are equals of their fathers; most fall short, all too few surpass them.”  A central issue is whether Odysseus’s son, Telemachus, will be worthy of his noble lineage.  In fact, everyone wonders about this, including Telemachus himself and, of course, generations of readers. While most readers see Odysseus as the main focus of the epic that is named for him, some have read it as a Bildungsroman, a coming‑of‑age story focusing on the moral growth and development of Telemachus.  His father had left home and gone to battle when he was still a baby.  When we meet him, he is a powerless twenty-year-old, unable to deal with the disarray caused by the rowdy suitors in his parents’ home.  He has grown up without a father and is about to meet him for the first time. 

Homer’s Odyssey includes another father-son relationship, too.  When Odysseus went off to the war in Troy, his father, Laertes, stayed behind.  As the action picks up in the Odyssey, Laertes is, as Mendelsohn describes him, “a decrepit old man, alone in his orchard, tired of life.”  Homer says that Laertes “no longer comes down into town but toils alone in the countryside, far from men; an old servant-woman is there to serve him food and drink when his arms and legs are gripped by weariness.”

Mendelsohn’s book is not a Bildungsroman focused on the parent’s relationship with a maturing child. It is the story of what happens when the child is at the peak of a career while the parent has retreated from public life. While their relationship is complicated, Jay and Daniel still show tenderness to each other from time to time. Homer has little to say about this type of relationship, perhaps because so few people lived into their eighties, or even into their sixties, in his world.  The one passage in his Odyssey that relates directly to this theme is disturbing.  When Telemachus meets his father after being away for twenty years, he disguises his identity and provokes his father before revealing himself.  Surprisingly, for a book that focuses on exactly this relationship, Mendelsohn calls this a curious decision and has nothing more to say about it.

In our world, we will more and more have to face this new parent-child pattern, either as parents or as children (and some of us as both).  What happens when the roles of the child’s youth are reversed, when the child is the one who lives the public life and the aged parent “no longer comes down into town”?  What happens when the child is at the peak of physical, intellectual and professional accomplishment and the parent is starting to slip, physically and/or mentally?   What happens when parents are no longer making decisions for the best interests of the children but become children trying to safeguard the best interests of their parents? 

While Mendelsohn does not address these questions, Jewish readers naturally ask: what happens to the mitzvah of honoring a parent when, in a sense, the child slowly evolves into the parent’s decision-maker?  Imposing our will on a parent seems inappropriate, especially fooling a parent into doing what we think is best for him or her, as we may have tried to do with our small children.  But when sons and daughters sense that they are now the responsible adults, what is the compassionate thing for them to do?  Does kibbud av va-em mean always deferring to the decision of a deteriorating parent, even when we sense that their stated decision is not in their best interest?  And the all-too-common ultimate question that comes up in the closing pages of Mendelsohn’s book: do children have the right (or perhaps even the duty?) to pull the plug on a failing parent?

An Odyssey offers no simple answers, and, to the best of my knowledge, our traditional texts lack an unambiguous message about this topic, too.  But Mendelsohn’s book is a fascinating read and a useful way to focus on these crucial questions.

During the Rosh Hashana/Yom Kippur period, some Jews have a custom known as “kapparot.” The ceremony involves swinging a live chicken over a person’s head three times, and then slaughtering the chicken. The chickens are supposed to be distributed to the poor. This ritual is generally performed on the eve of Yom Kippur, but some do it on the previous days. People who follow this practice believe that the ritual is a form of atonement (kapparah) for their sins.

This ritual, which seems to date from medieval times, has a controversial history. Rabbi Shelomo ben Aderet (Rashba, responsum 395) forbade this custom in his city of Barcelona. His teacher, Nachmanides, considered this practice to be idolatrous (darkhei emori). Rabbi Joseph Karo, in the Shulhan Arukh (Orah Hayyim 605), ruled:  “As for the practice to do a “kapparah” on the eve of Yom Kippur by slaughtering a chicken for each male and reciting some verses—one should stop this practice.”

Rabbi Moshe Isserles, in his gloss to this passage of the Shulhan Arukh, indicated that the custom of “kapparot” is widespread and has authoritative halakhic support; he ruled that the custom should not be altered. Other rabbis, Ashkenazic and Sephardic, have supported the continuation of “kapparot” with live chickens, slaughtering a rooster for each male and a hen for each female.

In modern times, the custom of “kapparot” has become increasingly problematic. Many people see it as a primitive, quasi-idolatrous practice. Others view “kapparot” as egregious cruelty to animals.

Rabbi Haim David Halevy (Mekor Hayyim 4:216) cites the Shulhan Arukh in calling for a stop to this practice. But he also cites authorities who support “kapparot” with chickens. He then offers his own opinion: for those who are not afraid of annulling this custom, they should follow the ruling of the Shulhan Arukh. One can fulfill the custom by using money rather than live chickens i.e. putting money into a sack and swinging it over a person’s head instead of swinging a live chicken. He cites the Hayyei Adam (144:4) who recommends using money rather than chickens. Rabbi Halevy writes that the slaughter of so many chickens in such a short time can lead to fatigue on the part of the shohetim, and mistakes can be made that result in the chickens actually not being kasher for consumption. Also, there is cruelty in the abundance of needless slaughter on the eve of Yom Kippur, a day dedicated to mercy. (See also his Asei Lekha Rav, 3:20; and Mayyim Hayyim 3:22).

The Shamayim V’Aretz Institute, dedicated to the prevention of cruelty to animals, has noted that each year thousands of chickens are kept in harsh conditions waiting to be used for “kapparot.”Many are never used and some are left to die of dehydration and starvation. Furthermore, undercover investigations have revealed that ritually slaughtered kosher chickens allegedly earmarked for "the poor" were instead thrown into the trash.

During the season of Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, we should be seeking atonement through our prayers and good deeds. Those who feel the need for a “kapparot” ceremony should use money rather than live chickens.

Shamayim V’Aretz Institute

Orthodox rabbis who have come out in opposition to the practice of chicken Kapparot 

Rabbi Yosef Adler
​Rabbi Dr. Marc Angel  
Rabbi Shlomo Aviner 
Rabbi Daniel Askenazi
Rabbi Joseph Beyda
Rabbi Yitzchak Blau
Rabbi Yosef Blau
Rabbi Aviad Bodner
Rabbi Ira Budow
Rabbi Dr. Nathan Lopes Cardozo
Rabba Dr. Carmella Abraham
Rabbi Michael Chernick 
Rabbi Eliyahu Fink  
Rabbi Eliezer Finkelman
Rabbi Aaron Frank
Maharat Ruth Balinsky Friedman 
Rabbi Yonassan Gershom
Rabbi Jeremy Gimpel
Rabbi Daniel Goodman
Rabbi Dr. Mel Gottlieb 
Rabbi Dr. Yitz Greenberg  
Rabbi Donn Gross
Rabbi Ari Hart
Rabbi Dr. Richard Hidary
Rabbi Eliezer Hirsch 
Rabbi David Kalb
Rabbi Yosef Kanefsky 
Rabbi Ysoscher Katz
​Rabbi Dr. Eugene Korn  
Rabbi Aaron Leibowitz
Rabbi Aryeh A. Leifert 
Rabbi Aaron Levy
Rabbi Yamin Levy  
Rabbi Dov Linzer 
Rabbi Yehoshua Looks  
Rabbi Haskel Lookstein  
Rabbi Asher Lopatin
Rabbi Moshe Mayor
Rabbi Dr. Ariel Evan Mayse
Rabbi Michael Melchior
Rabbi Avram Mlotek
Rosh Kehillah Dina Najman  
Rabbi Haim Ovadia
Rabbi Dani Passow
Rabbi Yossi Pollak  
Rabbi Sam Reinstein
Rabbi Dr. David Rosen
Rabbi Daniel Raphael Silverstein   
Rabbi Shlomo Segal  
Rabbi Chaim Seidler-Feller  
Rabbi Jay Shoulson
Rabbi David Stav
Rabbi Chaim Strauchler
Rabbi Devin Villarreal
Rabbi Dr. Shmuly Yanklowitz  
Rabbi Alan J. Yuter
Rabbi Lawrence Zierler

I am often asked what appears to be a rather logical question to an illogical circumstance: Why is an observant young Jewish woman studying medieval canon law? In my doctoral studies in the Judaic Studies and History Departments at New York University, I focus on medieval Jewish-Christian relations through law, specifically examining the ways that canon law treats and presents Jews.

Canon law is the Catholic equivalent of halakha: It is the law that guides Roman Catholic practice. However, unlike halakha, in which differing rabbinic opinions can present competing rulings and perspectives on a matter, canon law recognizes papal authority as a final arbitrator and standardizer of legal disputes and questions. Thus, by studying the canon law code, which the pope sanctioned, it is possible to learn about the Church’s position on the Jews, as well as to gain an additional perspective on the complex factors impacting Christian views on Jews as real people with differing religious practices, as opposed to as a theoretical competing and threatening alternative religion.

 It is important to recognize the difference between these two Christian approaches to Jews and Judaism in order to understand relations between the faith groups and the difference between ideas of intolerance and actual practiced intolerance. Further, by studying Christian attitudes toward and relations with Jews—and the medieval era as a whole—it is possible to better understand the atmosphere in which many rabbinic authorities on whom modern Judaism continues to rely—authorities such as the Rambam, Ramban, Rosh, Rashba, Rabbenu Asher, Rabbenu Gershom, and others—made their legal rulings.

Because our modern observance of Judaism is based on the rulings, understandings, and perspectives of our predecessors, it is important to examine and understand how halakha and minhagim have developed in tandem with socioeconomic and political pressures, as well as shifting religious priorities and outlooks. Appreciating how Jewish practices have resulted from a centuries-old dance between religion, personal spirituality and growth, the contemporaneous society, the past, and community priorities enables a greater appreciation for modern observance, as well as an understanding of how extra-legal pressures have impacted halakhic developments.

For example, Rabbenu Gershom—the highly influential eleventh-century Ashkenazic scholar—ruled in a responsum that rabbinic authorities should permit Jews to do business with Christians on Christian holidays because it had become standard communal practice; a prohibition would be ignored for economic reasons. He supported his position by citing Rebbi Yohanan’s lenient opinion from the Talmud that outside of Israel, non-Jews are not considered idolaters, and therefore there is no concern that the eleventh-century Jews would be supporting idolatry by engaging with Christians commercially during their holidays.[1] The sensitivity that he displayed toward his contemporaneous community’s needs and practices is an example of halakha developing in response to socioeconomic conditions and practices.

Understanding the historical realities that contributed to contemporary Jewish life, traditions, and law deepens our connection to modern Judaism by demonstrating how halakha has continued evolving on the basis of prior scholarship and Jewish communal needs. History highlights the sensitive side, relevance, and communally in touch nature of halakha and Jewish leadership.  

Examining historical relations between Christians and Jews enables a fuller appreciation of how Jews could and did act as members of Jewish communities and broader Christian societies in Western Europe. It reveals how Jews related to and lived amongst a majority culture and religion that differed from themselves and to examine how our predecessors navigated life as Jews amongst non-Jews, balancing economic necessities, social realities, and cultural pressures with their continued Jewish observance. Understanding that Jews engaged with Christians culturally, politically, economically, and socially shows that Jews throughout history have balanced interacting with non-Jews surrounding them, their ideas, and practices with their own religious and cultural norms. The Rambam participated in contemporaneous philosophical debates, Avraham ibn Ezra composed poetry influenced by Muslim peers, Shemuel haNagid wielded tremendous political power, and Isaac of Norwich was a leading English financier in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. It would be incorrect to believe that all Jews maintained full halakhic lifestyles, but halakhic observance was important in some fashion to some percentage of the community, though we can never know exactly what percentage.

For example, completed in 1234, Pope Gregory IX’s (d. 1241) Liber Extra, which compiled and organized prior ecclesiastical court cases in order to standardize rulings brought to ecclesiastical courts, includes rulings related to Jews and their proper function in Christian society. Although there is a whole chapter dedicated to Jews’ place in Christian society, Jews also appear scattered throughout the book. These other appearances are perhaps more interesting because they are less concerned with Jews as a religious group and more interested in how to manage Jews as individual people. Jews emerge in the code as real individuals, biblical and historical ideas, and religious others. A study of how Jews emerge as ideas and realities in the code—which I hope to complete for my dissertation—will shed further light on Jewish life in medieval Christendom, and Jews’ place in medieval ecclesiastical thought.

Studying Jews in canon law cases, such as those in the Liber Extra, further enhances our knowledge of Jews’ daily lives and their realities. For example, there is an assumption that most Jews in medieval Europe worked as moneylenders, in banking, or perhaps as artisans. Agriculture is not normally associated with medieval Jews. However, the Liber Extra records that in the mid-twelfth century the bishop of Montpellier, in Southern France, asked Pope Alexander III about whether or not Jewish farmers owed tithes to the Church, as Christian farmers did. The pope responded, “You should force them with everything in your district to pay tithes or renounce their possessions as punishment, lest, by chance, they should succeed to trick the church through their law.” The question itself enhances our knowledge of Jewish history by demonstrating that Jews, at least around Montpellier, did farm. Further, the pope’s answer evidences concern that Jews may have attempted to use Jewish law, which ecclesiastical and secular authorities allowed to govern communal Jewish life, to evade paying tithes. His worry highlights part of the ecclesiastical concern that Jews’ observances and laws might threaten Christians in Christendom and their success. As a result—and also no doubt because of financial concerns—he warns the bishop about the possibility of Jewish law superseding their obligations within Christendom and ignoring Christian practices. Thus, Christian ideas about Jews and their proper place in Christendom emerge from this case, as well as evidence of Jewish daily life. [2]

Although the modern and medieval Jewish conditions vastly differ, our past offers examples for how to live as Jews engaged with the non-Jewish world. So, when I am asked why I, an observant Jew, study medieval canon law and the Jews, I answer that it is not about the canon law—though that too is important and fascinating—but it is about understanding and appreciating the cultural and socioeconomic milieu in which Judaism has evolved. It is important for us twenty-first century Jews to realize that for centuries our ancestors were engaged members of the non-Jewish world around them and simultaneously members of the Jewish community. Studying the past from a perspective other than our own sheds light on what outside forces and pressures have influenced the development of Judaism and on how relations between the different faith groups were possible and occurred. When we branch out from the at times all-encompassing world of Jewish texts, we gain a deeper sense of how and why Judaism and Jewishness evolved. In order to fully appreciate modern Judaism, we must grapple with our past in all its complexities, examining every angle and dimension—including canon law.

On Sunday, October 21, from 10:00-12:00, we will have a panel discussion on Conversion with Rabbi Marc Angel, Rabbi Hayyim Angel, and Rabbi Yona Reiss. It will be held at Lincoln Square Synagogue, 180 Amsterdam Avenue (68th Street) in Manhattan. For details, see our flyer at https://www.jewishideas.org/civicrm/event/info?reset=1&id=40

We have been significantly increasing our Teacher Training programs as we spread our vision into the Day School system and communities throughout the country. Two major areas of expansion this past year have been with our new Sephardic Initiative and the Ben Porat Yosef Yeshiva Day School in Paramus, New Jersey.

Sephardic Initiative:

The history and culture of Sephardim, Middle Eastern and North African Jews are relatively unknown to large numbers of Jews.  And when attempts are made to be inclusive, they generally relate to foods and music...and almost never to intellectual and spiritual contributions.

The Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals has launched a “Sephardic Initiative,” to promote a greater inclusiveness and “wholeness” in Jewish education.

We have sponsored two conferences for teachers in Jewish schools, from grades 7 through 12. In October 2017, 25 educators from nine schools in the New York City area participated. In March 2018, 15 educators from seven schools in the Los Angeles area participated. We are planning other conferences in cities throughout North America. These conferences provide practical information on how inclusiveness in Jewish education can be enhanced. Teachers engage in discussion and serious learning. Teachers are given publications to help them in their own study of Sephardic/pan-Sephardic civilization.  Teachers write reports on how they have gone on to implement a Sephardic component in their classes, and these reports are circulated among the group so that they can learn from each other.

The Institute is planning a series of publications that will provide readily accessible material for educators, as well as for the general public. We have recently reprinted our pamphlet “Exploring Sephardic Customs and Traditions,” and are in the process of arranging for other publications. We also will develop an online presence to support this initiative.

For more information, and to contribute to this effort, please see our website, ttps://www.jewishideas.org/article/our-institutes-sephardic-initiative.

Tanakh Teacher Training:

Since joining the Institute in 2013, I have conducted a number of teacher trainings in Tanakh education. The goal is to work with current and future rabbis and educators to promote a fully traditional, scholarly, integrated approach that is both spiritually nourishing and intellectually sound. There is a great thirst for this type of education and we are at the vanguard of promoting these values.

This past year, I worked with the senior administration at Ben Porat Yosef Yeshiva Day School in Paramus, New Jersey on a revolutionary new Tanakh curriculum. They will be rolling out the first phase, for grades 1-3, this coming year. You can read the newspaper article by Rabbi Saul Zucker (the Head of School at Ben Porat Yosef) in the Jewish Link of New Jersey at https://www.jewishlinknj.com/features/25472-fluency-and-mastery-beginning-with-foundations

We will continue to build on that success at Ben Porat Yosef in the coming year.

Since joining the Institute, I also have run teacher trainings at Yeshiva University’s Rabbinical School; The Graduate Program of Advanced Talmudic Study for Women (GPATS) of Yeshiva University; the Azrieli Graduate School for Jewish Education of Yeshiva University; Yeshivat Chovevei Torah Rabbinical School; Community Hebrew Academy of Toronto High School, Toronto, Canada; The Academy of Jewish Thought, Cape Town and Johannesburg, South Africa; Ramaz High School in New York City, and the Ida Crown Jewish Academy High School in Skokie, IL.

In addition to the teacher training programs, educators throughout the country see us as a critical address to discuss educational issues in the modern Jewish classroom.

It is a privilege to work with rabbis and educators to promote our Institute’s vision, and it also provides a multiplier effect to promote our dearest core values at the Institute as we collaborate with so many others dedicated to an improved Jewish Educational landscape.

As always, thank you for all of your support, and we will continue to spread our vision to the broader Jewish community.

Rabbi Hayyim Angel

National Scholar

Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals

Introduction

The contradiction between a monotheistic, faith-based worldview and a democratic worldview seems almost irreconcilable. This inherent contradiction comes about for two reasons. The first is the question of authority. A theocentric worldview places God at the center, with God being the source of authority, whereas a democratic worldview places the people at the center. In a theocentric worldview, the majority may not adopt decisions that are contrary to Jewish law; indeed, the Torah commands us not to follow the majority when the majority is acting inappropriately (Ex. 23:2). If the issue were merely one of how decisions are made and the principle of majority rule, then this problem could be resolved, at least on a practical level. However, there is a more fundamental problem: Western liberal democracy today is characterized by values that the majority categorically cannot annul. This list of values is a statement of those areas in which—notwithstanding the wishes or desires of the majority—the individual cannot be denied basic rights. The majority may not limit freedom of speech, of association, of occupation, of religion, and so on. These principles are supposed to be protected by a constitution, and by the courts’ interpretation of that constitution. A theocentric worldview, on the other hand, requires that, at times, individual rights be infringed, or posits a different set of rights than those commonly accepted. God’s commandments sometimes require that an individual’s freedom be curtailed, particularly when those commandments are obligatory upon that individual as a member of the Jewish collective.

The definition of the State of Israel as a Jewish, democratic state thus suffers, ostensibly, from a fundamental contradiction. There are two sources of authority—Judaism and democracy, and two different lists of areas that cannot be reshaped, even by the majority. What makes this conflict more aggravating is the language that is used. Those who speak for “Judaism” often claim that they cannot use the mediating terminology of democracy, which involves compromise, concession, and agreement; they are not presenting their own views, but representing standpoints that derive from a divine source, and that cannot be subject to negotiated agreement or compromise. Those who speak for democracy claim that there can be no authority whatsoever that is entitled to infringe on the rights of the individual.

Attempts to Resolve This Contradiction

This issue has beset the State of Israel since its inception, and a number of different proposals have been suggested to resolve the contradiction. Some sought to resolve it by demonstrating that Judaism, too, recognizes the power of the majority as the principal tool for determining or resolving disputes. They based themselves on sources that discuss the power of the majority, and on Jewish history, particularly the patterns of Jewish communal life, in which disputes were decided by virtue of the power of the kahal (community), rather than by virtue of religious authority.
Along those lines, there were some who noted that the Torah itself commanded the establishment of a royal regime, “like all the nations around me.” That is to say, the Torah’s teachings do not intervene in decisions on the appropriate form of government; rather, the Torah recognizes that what is accepted by the enlightened nations of the world is something appropriate for emulation by the Jewish people. The role of the Torah is to shape, in certain areas, whatever governmental framework is chosen, but not to determine the character of that government. In effect, this approach claims that Judaism has no problem with adopting democracy.

As noted above, this attempt seems to indicate a misunderstanding on the part of both extremes—democracy and halakha. On the one hand, modern democracy, in its present form, is not merely a formal tool for ruling on disputes by means of the majority. Rather, it constitutes a broad worldview, one that touches on human autonomy and freedom, individual rights, liberalism, and egalitarianism. Democratic people are educated, open, and independent; they enjoy freedom of communication, freedom of association, and freedom of expression. All of these are an integral part of democracy, and thus it is insufficient to rely only on halakhic sources that discuss the power of the majority. On the other hand, it is also incorrect to say that halakha recognizes an individual’s absolute autonomy, and grants the majority an unfettered right to make determinations. It is precisely the expression that teaches us the power of the majority, aharei rabim lehatot, that says exactly the opposite: “and do not respond to a grievance by yielding to the majority to pervert [the law]” (Ex. 23:2)).

The strongest proof for my argument regarding the apologetic nature of claims that Judaism accepts democracy is to put the following question to anyone who makes such a claim: What would be the position of “Judaism,” should the social structure of the State of Israel change, so that there would be a religious majority and a secular minority? Would halakha recognize the right of the minority to desecrate the Sabbath by traveling in private vehicles in public? Would halakha recognize freedom of expression, allowing even the most severe statements against the Torah, against halakha, and against the rabbinate? It should be remembered that this question is not merely hypothetical. If current demographic trends continue, the possibility of a religious majority is quite realistic. It is interesting to note that, as far as I know, not one halakhic discussion has taken place on the issue of halakhic policy in a situation in which a majority loyal to halakha is in power in the State, alongside a minority that is not halakhically observant. This question is exacerbated in light of the ancient Jewish sources that call for criminal sanctions against, for example, those who transgress the Sabbath laws. Once such a discussion develops, we will see the extent to which halakha has adopted democracy in the fullest sense of the word.

Another possibility, this time coming from the opposite direction, is attributed to the former president of the Israeli Supreme Court, Justice Aharon Barak. This approach claims that the term “Jewish” is subordinate to “democratic,” that is to say, the State of Israel should adopt only those values from Judaism that are consistent with democratic criteria. This position is more like lip service, since in effect it omits “Judaism” from the fundamental definition of the State of Israel. If every conflict between democracy and Judaism is resolved in favor of democracy, the real outcome is that the State of Israel will become a state that operates solely by virtue of universal values, leaving “Judaism” as mere window dressing for democracy, by offering some appropriate quotes from Jewish sources.

I would argue that we should call a halt to these attempts to reconcile the contradiction, as such a reconciliation would be impossible. As I wrote in the introduction to this essay, the contradiction derives from a fundamental polarization, and thus cannot be resolved using customary methods for conflict resolution. There are those who would argue that, once the State of Israel has a constitution, this contradiction will disappear. In response, one would first have to examine the proposed constitution to see if it indeed resolves the contradiction. In my opinion, no potential constitution for the State of Israel would be able to resolve this contradiction. If it is a “minimalist” constitution—without the inclusion of lists of rights and without a formal definition of the State of Israel as a Jewish state—it will not be able to resolve the contradiction. Rather, it will leave the questions to be resolved outside the constitutional framework. If the constitution also includes a list of rights, but not a preamble to the constitution (for example, the Declaration of Independence)—it will thus come down in the “democratic” direction, but it will not be an expression of the will of the absolute majority in the State of Israel, which wants the state to also be defined as a “Jewish” state. And if the constitution includes both a list of rights and the Declaration of Independence as a preamble, then it will have brought the contradiction back inside itself.

Hence, it seems that we need to concentrate our efforts elsewhere. This ongoing conflict between Jewish law and democracy will accompany the State of Israel as long as there are communities within it that oppose each other and that choose one of the two extremes. However, it is within our power to mitigate this conflict. We need to exert our efforts in an attempt to bring the two extremes closer together; even if we know that absolute harmony is impossible, an ongoing mitigation of this tension will allow the State of Israel to continue to exist. Furthermore, it will change that tension from a fundamental problem to an empowering challenge.

Possible Methods of Mitigation

I would argue that there are three methods that offer the possibility of significantly mitigating the tension.
The first approach is to reexamine some basic assumptions. Modern democracy does not in fact recognize the absolute sovereignty of the people; this leaves room for the acceptance of ideas from outside the human world. On the other hand, halakha offers room for human judicial autonomy in two ways—as a legislator and as an interpreter. Thus, the democratic point of view may accept some of religion’s positions, while religion itself will recognize just how great its own human component is, and thus not profess to speak in the name of an uncompromising divine standpoint.

The second approach is to examine the conflict between democracy and halakha in the area of their respective standpoints. There exists a mutual recognition of democratic values in Judaism, and of national values in democracy. The language of human rights is not foreign to Judaism, and the language of nationhood is not foreign in terms of democracy. These voices can thus be empowered to further mitigate the tension.

The third approach comes from the perspective of risk management. Even if we assume that the conflict we have described is a fundamental one, one that cannot be resolved through theology or political theory, halakha may still be willing to see democracy as a necessary evil to be accepted, simply because the alternative is worse, and vice versa. This third approach speaks in terms of practicality—the prevention of ongoing conflict by means of practical arrangements that, rather than solve the problem, simply find a way around it.

The First Approach—A Reevaluation of Basic Assumptions

A reevaluation of the basic assumption underlying the religious position: The claim that halakha views the Master of the Universe as the source of authority is indeed the core of religious belief. At the same time, two key perspectives point to individual autonomy and importance. The first is in the area of interpretation. Although the Torah is perceived as a divine source, it is a principle of halakha that the Torah has been given to humanity, and therefore humans must interpret it. Hence, the claim that halakha represents God’s viewpoint inflates the status of the halakhic authorities. Individuals have enormous room to maneuver and freedom of thought; so those who speak for halakha thus have the ability to engage in negotiation and dialogue over the approach of halakha, rather than suggesting that it is not open to discussion.

The second perspective is in the realm of legislation. There are sources that point to the considerable autonomy given to halakhic authorities, when they function not only as interpreters of the divine texts, but also as legislators of the halakhic approach. Hence, one cannot argue that Judaism is merely a matter of obeying the divine commands alone. Halakhic interpreters and legislators also include their own inner worldviews, their cultural perspectives, and the social milieu in which they live. Recognition of the specifically human components existing within the world of halakha allows a softening of the uncompromising, segregationist position sometimes presented as fundamental to the world of halakha.

A reevaluation of the basic assumption underlying the democratic position: Democracy presents itself as stating that it is the people who are the ultimate sovereign, and that the majority determines democratic behavior. However, a deeper analysis of today’s democratic standpoints indicates that not all powers are in the hands of the people, and thus it is not the people who should be seen as sovereign. The democracies of today—both on the philosophical level and on the practical, organizational level, as in the European Union—argue that there are universal values of “humankind,” against which even the majority may not act. There is deep division over the source and validity of those values, as well as their scope, but the very recognition that not everything can be determined by the people, and that there are general, universal values that are also binding on the majority is indisputable.

This structure allows one to argue that democracy may also be capable of adopting additional values that are not subject to majority decision, even if it appears that they detract from the principle of majority rule. These values may include religious values, and democracy may view them as a basis for national existence, beyond the principles of democracy. I am not arguing that religion is universal to the same extent as the universal lists of rights that we have discussed. My argument is that, once democracy accepts principles that are not subject solely to majority rule, the way is open for the entry of additional values within this framework.

Narrowing the gap between democracy and Jewish law does not totally eliminate it, nor does it create a system of authority that everyone can live with. There are two reasons for this, stemming from the two perspectives discussed above.

The first comes from the religious direction. Even though there is a greater recognition of the individual’s authority as interpreter and legislator, this does not eliminate the fact that, at its core, it is divine revelation that is the source of authority. Moreover, people of faith do not see themselves as legislating against the will of God, but merely as uncovering that will. The intent of people of faith is to achieve the most faithful interpretation of those categorical imperatives whose source is external to humanity. Hence, the freedom that these individuals can take for themselves is limited; they must constantly aim to clarify the exact requirements of the divine commands.

From a democratic perspective, too, one cannot see the gap being eliminated. Although there are values that are outside the purview of majority decision, these are nevertheless still based on human determination as sovereign, or on other human determining factors, such as international agreements. It would be difficult to add a religious perspective into this framework.

The Second Approach—Bringing Judaism and Democracy Closer Together

The gap between Jewish law and democracy may also be narrowed if we reexamine the possibility that halakha indeed recognizes elements that are fundamental to democracy—the language of rights. This recognition by halakha may come from either of two directions. One direction is the recognition by halakha of the derekh erets that preceded halakha, while the other possibility is that the foundations of the list of rights can be found within the halakha itself.

The statement that derekh erets preceded the Torah requires explanation. In using the term derekh erets, I am not referring to the present-day meaning of good manners, etiquette, and so on. Rather, I am referring to the term’s original meaning. In the language of the sages, the term derekh erets means the accepted, normal mode of conduct in the world. Derekh erets is synonymous with earning a living, conjugal relations, and the normal conventions of human behavior. One who adopts a life of derekh erets is one who follows the way of the world. The sages often spoke in praise of derekh erets, and of humans’ obligation to conduct themselves according to those principles.

The statement of the sages, that derekh erets preceded the Torah, therefore adopts human interaction within a normal, ordered state as being the norm. When human beings adopt a set of rights, this need not necessarily derive from halakha, but from human determinations as to appropriate, normative behavior. It is this spirit that pervades the words of the prophets. They spoke constantly of the obligation to act justly and honestly, with fairness and social sensitivity. This is far beyond the strict realm of halakha, and imposes much higher standards than those imposed by the law. When the “Jewish” side of the “Jewish, democratic state” equation sees itself as obligated to the world’s universal values, we can see this as mitigating the enormous tension between the two worlds.

Furthermore, the list of rights is integral to the world of halakha itself. What needs to be emphasized is that halakha, in general, does not speak in terms of rights, but rather in terms of duties. Halakha does not say that a person has a right to a good reputation, but it does impose an obligation on others not to slander or embarrass him; it does not relate to the right of the poor to a decent living, but it obligates the community to care for the weaker members of society; it does not deal with the rights of parents over their children, but rather it addresses the obligations of children toward their parents; and so on.

Thus, one cannot simply transfer the language of halakha into the language of democracy. However, the very fact that halakha imposes numerous obligations toward the “other” is an indication of the way in which the Jewish aspect of the State can be shaped in this spirit. Furthermore, Judaism is not limited to halakha alone. The words of the prophets, who made the moral framework into the basis for society, and who argued that God measures society primarily through how it treats its weaker members, reinforce further the possibility of bringing the “Jewish” and “democratic” sides closer together.

This would be an opportunity to comment on an important aspect of this issue. In general, when we think of Israel as a “Jewish” state, we tend to look solely at those areas that are between man and God—marriage and divorce, kashruth, Shabbat, and so on. However, the Torah and Jewish tradition also deal at length with questions of social justice, and the prophets made these issues fundamental to the nation’s existence. What we need is a significant change in the public’s perception of what Judaism is about, with an emphasis on the State of Israel as a state in which justice and welfare are goals common to all parties to this debate. Such a conceptual shift could also play its part in reducing the tensions between the two sides.

Democracy, too, must play its part in bringing the two sides closer together. Although it is essential to ensure that individual rights are protected, it is also important to recognize the rights of the collective to define its own public domain. The democratic idea may thus also be consistent with the idea of the nation state, and with the desire of the broader community to choose its own road in the spirit of its unique communal nature.

As we have mentioned, there is an ongoing debate within the State of Israel in regard to the constitution that is taking shape. One of the issues being debated is whether such a constitution will also include a “preamble,” and whether Israel’s Declaration of Independence, or some similar document, will thus become an integral part of the constitution. If the State of Israel indeed rejects the radical, Western, liberal model, which denies the right of the national state to exist, and instead adopts a softer democratic approach, there is a good chance for reducing the tension between state and religion, since the State itself can encompass significant elements of religious, national identity.

The Third Approach—Practicality

These two approaches together do not totally eliminate the contradiction. They blur it, and allow the coexistence of various perceptions of the nature of the state. The State of Israel will nonetheless need to resolve the gap that remains between democratic life and Judaism through practical means. Most of the Jewish citizens of the State of Israel, who constitute the absolute majority within the state, have a deeply held connection with both democratic ideals and their desire that the State of Israel be a Jewish state, even if they have not defined exactly which Jewish foundations they wish the state to apply. Furthermore, both those who tend toward the “democratic” position and those who lean toward the “Jewish” position recognize that there are those who disagree with their own opinion, and understand that any resolution cannot be imposed coercively.

The recognition that it is not possible to determine the nature of the state merely by means of a chance majority vote in the Knesset, and that this internal debate is deep-seated and may last for many years to come, has led many to abandon any attempt to end the debate through political means. Moreover, that the State of Israel is the only state in the world that is constantly under threat from elements that negate its very existence, reinforces its citizens’ sense that they are in a life or death situation, and their understanding that national unity is more important than resolving questions of religion and state. Most of the state’s citizens understand the need to be practical. Too great a gap between fundamental conceptions or ideology, and any constitution that may be adopted, cannot continue to exist for long, and may even endanger the existence of the State of Israel.

Hence it is possible that the status quo may persist for a long time. I would hazard the opinion that the process of adopting a constitution for the State of Israel will be characterized by one of two possibilities. The more likely possibility is that the State of Israel will remain without a constitution, or, at least, without the inclusion of articles in the constitution to regulate the issues of religion and state.

The second possibility is that a constitution will be adopted without broad consent; in that case, it will, in effect, not have any real meaning, because of the enormous gap between reality and the text of the constitution. On the other hand, a continuation of the status quo, albeit with mutual restraint on the part of both sides, appears to be the most reasonable—and perhaps even the most correct—thing to do.

From the side of the supporters of “Judaism,” this restraint will come from two directions. The first is a recognition of the limitations of power, and a recognition that the ideas of man’s freedom and autonomy do not permit broad religious legislation, or allow the imposition of religious principles under the auspices of the law. This fact is beginning to be assimilated within religious society. Religious society has learned that, notwithstanding existing legislation (for example) in the area of family law, many secular couples choose not to establish their homes in the manner that the law attempts to impose on them; on the contrary, they find numerous ways around the law. This is also true of other laws, such as the laws relating to Shabbat rest. A second direction from which restraint will come is internal to the religious community. Religious thought will begin to recognize that too close a connection between the state and religion harms religion itself. This is for various reasons: religious authorities are less than free to rule, because, in effect, religious rulings are subject to the High Court and other state institutions; a religion that depends on the law makes itself distasteful to the community; it is particularly in those observances to which no legislation applies (for example, observance of the Passover Seder, Yom Kippur, circumcision) that the power of religion is greater; and, in general, it is not clear whether there is religious significance to keeping the commandments by virtue of secular legislation, and so religion itself might not be interested in coercive arrangements under the auspices of the law, except to a very limited extent.

From the other side, that of “democracy,” restraint will come from a recognition of the enormous significance that Israeli society attributes to Jewish values. The Supreme Court is ultimately a reflection of the society within which it operates, and it cannot continue making “Judaism” subject solely to democratic values. And if the Court does not do so of its own accord, Knesset legislation may force it to do so; indeed, we already see signs of this in other spheres, for better or for worse. A Supreme Court that restrains itself, while strictly protecting human rights and maintaining limitations on the collective, is a necessary condition for restraint.

I believe that the three approaches to mitigation proposed above will permit coexistence in the State of Israel, and may even be a blessing for the unique, almost untenable, path taken by the “Jewish, democratic state,” which is ultimately an expression of the cultural uniqueness of the State of Israel. I believe that if we give up our pretensions of being able to solve the problem in absolute terms, and accept the anomaly of “Jewish and democratic” as a special Israeli challenge, different from those faced by other countries, this tension may have an ongoing positive influence on both opposing sides, and we will all ultimately benefit.

I recently read an article in the Internet based Magazine “Psychology Today”. It was written by the Swedish psychologist Guy Winch, who does research about loneliness, that nasty depressing feeling that affects close to an estimated 50% of humanity in a serious way. We all know that feeling lonely affects us emotionally; it makes us sad. But what is less known, research shows, is that it makes us see reality in a more negative light than necessary, including our relationships, our friends and family.

Believe it or not, it also has an impact on our bodies. It lowers our body temperature, we literally feel left in the cold! At the same time, it also raises our blood pressure and our cholesterol, thereby creating a higher risk of cardiovascular disease. Our immune system drops, leaving us more vulnerable to getting sick... In short, loneliness causes considerable psychological AND physical stress, even leading to a risk of early death by 14%, the same level as that of smoking cigarettes.
All this as the result of a lack of feeling connected.

Being connected is a deep need in all of us human beings. That’s why the modern ways of communication were adopted all over the world adopted so easily.  Through Facebook, Instagram and Skype, people want to be constantly connected to others anywhere on the globe, all the time.
Not that this level of connection is always of a deep and high quality, but the need in itself to feel connected to others, near and far, is innate to us, and to some extent actually healthy and necessary..
The need to feel connected is very easy to see with children.  When my children were little, I remember playing hide and seek. I counted down, they would hide, and when I found them, being found for them was the most joyful thing.

This need is not only the case with humans. Animals that are kept alone without attention, become depressed and wither away just the same. They need to feel connected also in order to survive. 

Did anyone ever get your goat?  We all know what it means.  It means that that person made us annoyed, or even angry.  What where did the expression come from?  There are a few different theories, but most opinions hold that it comes from the world of race horses. A race horse has to be in optimal condition for it to win a race.  Horses are kept in their box, and a horse that is alone becomes nervous and anxious, which is of course counterproductive.  So in order calm the horse down, they would put a goat with it in the box, to keep it company.  If you wanted to undermine the condition of your competitor's horse, you could sneak into the stable and 'get his goat'.  An interesting illustration of how horse racers have realized for a long time that loneliness affects animals as well.

But it doesn't stop there.  Plants grow better when around other plants. (Some people talk to them, to make them grow better, but I am not sure what Maimonides would say about that).

Even micro-organisms such as bacteria cannot survive on their own. There is no need to fear the invasion of one single harmful bacteria in your body. It simply will not survive without the company of others surrounding it. Very soon it will go into apoptosis; a fancy word for spontaneous self-destruction, in other words suicide.  That is what loneliness does.  This shows why solitary confinement is actually one of the cruelest punishments imaginable.

This all sounds pretty depressing perhaps, but I believe that knowing this can teach us an important lesson for Yom Kippur. In English we translate Yom Kippur as “Day of Atonement”. Interestingly, in Dutch, it is called 'Grote Verzoendag', which means the “Great Day of Reconciliation”.
This is profound. There is a rift, a separation, between God and man, between people among themselves, which causes a disconnect; loneliness.
And today we are offered a chance for reconciliation, to repair that disconnect.

During our prayers and introspection, we stand next to each other and feel connected. On this day we reach out again to God and our fellow neighbors.
Starting today, we should seriously work on just that, bridge the separation, reach out to others, show them, make them feel that they belong, that we all belong to each other.

One last thing: At the end of tonight’s prayers, we will hear the Shofar. The significance is extremely powerful.
There have been musical instruments around throughout history, some of them mentioned in our Bible.
But all instruments have been developed and changed throughout the years.
Our harp doesn’t sound like David’s harp did.
Our lyre is not the ancient the same as the ancient lyre.
We do not know what the Biblical timbrels and cymbals sounded like.

But the Shofar has not been changed.
When we hear the Shofar, we hear the same sound as our people did in the days of Moses.  It enters our ears and brains the same way as it did for Samuel and David. That same sound rings timelessly through the ages of the First and Second Temple, the time of Bar Kokhba, the era of Maimonides. It is heard in faraway communities from Amsterdam to Morocco, Tunisia, Syria, Persia, Cochin. Even in Poland and Lithuania! We can hear the same sound that our people heard in every time and land.

The sound of the Shofar, and our prayers, can lift up our souls above our limited time and space and connect us with God and with our entire people, anytime, anywhere.

                               The Great Escape: How and Why Most Arab States Became Judenfrei

By Peter Schotten

Dr. Peter Schotten is emeritus professor of Government and International Affairs at Augustana University (Sioux Falls, South Dakota).

Review Essay: Lyn Julius, Uprooted: How 3000 Years of Jewish Civilization in the Arab World Vanished Overnight (London: Vallentine Mitchell, 2018).

Other Books Discussed:

Martin Gilbert, A History of Jews in Muslim Lands (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2010).

Joshua Muravchik, Making David into Goliath: How the World Turned Against Israel (New York: Encounter Books, 2014).

     Israel has become a victim of its own success.  Initially, Its 1948 founding was celebrated by much of the western world.  Israel's modern realization represented a triumph of heroic tenacity as well as the advancement of the laudable political principles of freedom and self-determination.   Even more important, Israel's newly won statehood proudly proclaimed the survival of a Judaism that had faced extinction from an unfathomable Nazi evil.  The early flourishing of the Israeli political and economic experiment, especially after its first days when it fought and won a war of national survival against numerous Arab nations, proved as improbable as its founding.  Despite a bevy of predictable social, economic and political challenges, a fair-minded observer of Israel's early history and world standing would conclude that everything, or nearly everything crucial, had gone right. 

     Of course it was all too good to last.  Seventy years later, Israel continues to prosper amidst serious obstacles in one of the world's toughest neighborhoods.  But, in the meantime, its reputation has declined precipitously.  Once almost universally admired, Israel today is routinely denounced and derided.  How and why this happened is analyzed skillfully and successfully by Joshua Muravchik in Making David Into Goliath: How the World Turned Against Israel.   According to Muravchik, much of Israel's reputation problem could be attributed to its very flourishing.    Israel's robust democracy had produced an adversary culture, which from time to time challenged the very legitimacy of the Israeli state.  Ever confident, Israel acted assertively and controversially. For example, Israel's widely criticized 1982 military campaign in Lebanon against the PLO constituted a leading example of such an act. But perhaps the most decisive turning point had been Israel's decisive victory in the 1967 Six Days War.   Prior to the War, Israel was seen as inferior  to the Arab states by any measure--population, territory, military, natural resources and national wealth.  After Israel's decisive victory with its newly-won expanded borders, Israel would never again be uniformly seen as the sympathetic underdog.   No longer would it be the powerful Arabs versus Israel, the beleaguered Jewish state.   Now Middle East politics would be increasingly cast as the mighty Israeli versus the persecuted, oppressed, occupied and dispossessed Palestinians.

     Muravchik points out that while all this was happening the left's progressive ideology was adapting to a post-cold war world. The evils of imperialism and colonialism--understood as the exploitation of weak, economically poor people by wealthy powerful western nations-- was reemphasized.   Simultaneously, crude Marxist theory was expanded to include membership in oppressed victim classes based upon their minority identity and racial claims.  The inchoate but oft repeated slogans that Zionism is racism or that Israel had become an apartheid nation-state are practical applications of this reformulated progressive ideology.

      This Middle East reevaluation was one manifestation of a much larger postmodern understanding that challenged the value of western civilization at its core. Regarding Israel and the Palestinians specifically, its most influential spokesman of this viewpoint proved to be a Columbia literature Professor, Edward Said .  Muravchik titled his chapter on this topic "Edward Said Conquers Academia for Palestine" and neither his title nor his discussion exaggerated Said's intellectual influence.  The successful casting of Palestinians as the principle victim of Western viciousness and indifference yielded immediate practical advantages. Victims are entitled to sympathy and compassion.  Furthermore, it is sometimes (falsely) believed that victims-- traumatized by their suffering--bear no moral responsibility for their acts.  In such a moral universe, terrorist acts against civilians and apocalyptic eliminationist rhetoric were justified as actions and voices of the desperate.  Numerous NGOs, churches, socialist alliances, organizations and human rights organization were so persuaded as they increasingly offered rhetorical and financial support for the Palestinian cause. The European left initially led the way, but in time the popularity of  this point of view became increasingly mainstream.   

      Although Israel's declining reputation can be traced to its successes seen through the lenses of its critics, some of the blame may also be attributed to Israel's inaction.  Muravchik indirectly perceives this in a single sentence in his book.  There he argues that the original displaced Palestinians and their descendants have maintained the status quo only to keep alive the Palestinian  claim of right of return (which would effectively end Israel as we know it).  Otherwise, he argues, the refugees could be easily absorbed by surrounding countries who share a similar language, religion and culture.  Then there is that one pregnant sentence: " Resettlement would have been far easier, for example, than Israel's integration of an equivalent number of Jews fleeing or expelled from the Arab countries at the same time, whose language was not Hebrew but Arabic."

     According to Lyn Julius, in her newly published Uprooted: How 3000 Years of Jewish Civilization in the Arab World Vanished Overnight, it is this forced Jewish flight from Arab lands primarily in the twentieth century that constitutes one of the  most consequential stories of religious persecution hardly ever told.  Obviously, Arab states have not spoken of this phenomenon.  But, as the author points out, there has also been relatively little discussion by the Israeli government or by the refugees and their families.  The author wishes to remedy this omission.  As the daughter of Jewish Iraqi refugees, she cares passionately  about the topic. Julius is appalled by the general ignorance regarding the history of Jews and religious minorities in Arab lands and equally upset about the widespread acceptance of the progressive account of the Middle East that exclusively focuses upon Israel’s alleged Palestinian victims.  Thus, Uprooted is an attempt to both inform the reader about Jewish history in Arab lands while arguing in favor of a more comprehensive and nuanced understanding of Northern Africa and Middle East history and politics that affected that relationship.  The author is largely successful on both fronts.

      Julius' tone is occasionally polemical as she explicates history in the service of refuting the reigning leftist narrative.  She adopts the contemporary leftist language of political oppression, lest anyone miss her meaning or her irony.  Jews were an indigenous people in what were to become Arab lands.  They lived there for a millennium before those lands were conquered by Mohammed in the 7th century. Afterwards, Muslim colonialism became the political norm of Jewish-Arab relationships in Arab lands for approximately a thousand years.  When Islamic states made life intolerable for Jews and forced their exile, Julius labels it the Jewish Nakba.  Lest anyone miss the import of her words, she also persistently describes the involuntary exile of Jews from Arab lands as a notable instance of ethnic cleansing. 

     Obviously, Jewish life under a thousand years of Islamic rule in different lands varied widely.  Murderous violence and forced slavery represented one extreme; extended periods of Islamic toleration toward Jews amidst their participation in the professions and in government were the high point.  The constant was dhimmi status, a kind of second class citizenship that was accorded Jews (and Christians) by Muslim rulers in the name of toleration.  Almost everything about this time period proves controversial and Julius cites a variety of interpretations by different authorities.  But the author will have no part of the notion that the toleration extended to Jews constituted good or respectful treatment.  Peaceful co-existence between the two religions is a myth. Her point-of-view is well captured by her opening quotation at the front of the book.  Citing Thomas Paine in The Rights of Man, she writes that toleration "is not the opposite of Intoleration, but is the counterfeit of it" for both "are despotisms."  Regarding those worst moments in Islamic-Jewish relations, Julius' observations are equally critical. Excepting Stalin, Hitler's and Pol Pot's 20th century genocides, she comments "a comparison between pogroms in the Christian and the Muslim worlds are not easy to make, but Albert Memmi claims that, if you put all the pogroms end to end, you finish up with a picture of violence little different to that perpetuated under Christendom."

     European colonialism would replace Islamic colonialism beginning in the nineteenth century.  It too would profoundly affect the lives of Jews living these Arab lands.  Although colonialism has become a term of unqualified opprobrium, Julius supplies a rather different perspective. According to her, the European version somewhat improved the lives of Jews in Arab lands by weakening the dhimmi social structure within the Islamic states they governed.  To be sure, the lives of Jews living under such circumstances varied over time from country to country but were always very short of idyllic. The safety and well-being of Jews, as well as Jewish -Arab relations, were simply one of many problems facing European colonial rulers that needed managing in so far as they could not be completely ignored..

      According to Julius, the most important factor defining Jewish-Arab relations through history is Islam's hostility toward other religions and peoples.  "Muslim minorities can only be accepted in Arab Muslim society by surrendering their distinctive identity" asserts Julius.  Accordingly, these peoples "must cease beings themselves."  Generally, the effects of Islam's bigotry can be observed in its historical treatment of oppressed minorities including Berbers, Copts, Assyrians and Kurds.  Specifically, in Julius' opinion, the animating cause of Arab-Jewish relations remains Islamic anti-Semitism (i. e. anti-Jewish prejudice).  Its persistence holds the key to understanding past and present in the Middle East.

     It is here where Europe--and particularly European ideas--adversely affected Middle East and North African Jews.  In the 20th century, Islamic anti-Semitism became infected with, and ultimately conflated with, European anti-Semitism generally, and Nazi ideology specifically. "Traditionally, Jews were feminized in the Muslim imagination as being cowardly, submissive and unable to stand up for themselves."  But Julius notes this attitudinal transformation had a disconcerting and dangerous effect: "as a result of saturation-levels of media and mosque anti-Semitic brainwashing, these stereotypes have been corrupted and replaced by the European concepts of the demonic, manipulative and all-powerful Jew."

     Relying upon the scholarship of academics like Jeffrey Herf and especially Matthias Küntzel, Julius emphasizes the great extent and profound effect of the collaboration between Nazi and Arab leadership during World War II.   Two individuals are highlighted.  Amin al-Husseini, the Grand Mufti of Jerusalem, was widely regarded as the leader of the Arab world.  Rabidly anti-Jewish, the Grand Mufti spent World War II collaborating with the Nazis seeking to advance their genocidal agenda.  Making common cause with the Nazis and the Grand Mufti also was Hassan al-Banna, the founder of the Muslim Brotherhood.  Al-Banna was another fanatical anti-Semite.  During World War II, he helped create a substantial Arab  army while glorifying martyrdom as a rationale for  violence. According to Julius, both these individuals in numerous ways influenced Arab and Palestinian politics for decades.

      Julius's discussion of the changing face of Islamic anti-Semitism serves to undergird an important conclusion: Zionism was not the cause of Islamic hostility toward Jews in Arab lands.  Anti-Semitism, in various forms, preceded Zionist sentiment in those countries.  So did adverse living conditions.  Nonetheless, Mideast Jews' alleged support of the Zionist cause became another name for traitor as well as an excuse for their persecution in Arab nations, particularly after the 1948 war. Then, as Julius notes, "Jews in Arab lands were victimized purely for sharing the same religion and ethnicity as the Israelis." 

     The 1948 war displaced approximately 700,000 Arab residents.  Arab states responded ruthlessly to the lost war and to the newly displaced Arab refugees by undertaking systematic and bold oppressive measures against their Jewish citizens.  Their citizenship was stripped, arrests and detentions took place, religious restrictions were imposed, freedom of movement was curtailed, assets were frozen and property seized, employment opportunities were closed off and Zionism was criminalized.  Jews, who had left their nations in far smaller numbers before, now fled in astounding numbers.  Approximately 850,000 were driven out of their homes.  Generally, the more affluent went to Europe and the United States.  The other 650,000 or so went to Israel. Today, these Mideast and North African Jews constitute just over half of Israel's Jewish population. Conversely, many Arab nations at the same time became Judenfrei.  In 1948, Algeria had 140,000 Jews; by 2016 there were none.  During that same time, Egypt's Jewish population declined from 75,000 to less than 15.  Similar figures for Iraq show a reduction from 150,000 Jews to 5.  Libya had 38,000 Jews in 1946; today there are no Jews at all there.  Syria's Jewish population shrank from 30,000 to less than 15.  Tunisia went from 105,000 Jews to 1,000 while Yemen's Jewish population dwindled to 50.  Symbolic of all that happened is this fact: in Cairo today, the Swiss, German, Canadian, Dutch, South Korean and Pakistani embassies all occupy the homes of wealthy expelled Jews.

     Julius simultaneously emphasizes the heroic efforts undertaken by the newly created Jewish state on behalf of its new refugees as well as the formidable cultural and economic challenges the refugees immediately faced. The early days were characterized by remarkable Israeli airlifts and the creation of numerous transit camps consisting of fabric tents and wooden or tin huts.  Chaos, poverty and illness in the camps were the norm.  Furthermore, the integration of this immigrant population into the Israeli mainstream proved far from seamless.  Cultural and class differences were pronounced between the European Jews who had founded Israel and the Jewish refugees who had fled their Arab dominated homelands and brought with them utterly different customs and traditions. Julius quotes one refugee who accurately reflects this mindset: "We left Iraq as Jews and entered Israel as Iraqis."

     These refugees are Julius' people and her cause.  They are a victimized group who have been mostly ignored, if not forgotten, by history.  No United Nations resolutions have been passed on their behalf.  Nor has a right of return or reparations been championed on their behalf.  Having become successfully integrated into a thriving Israeli society, the world has deemed their past suffering irrelevant, while Palestinians Arab refugees (and their descendants) are still held to be victims of oppression.  Interestingly, Israel gets no credit for its successful social policy success while receiving constant world condemnation for the continued suffering of Palestinian refugees.  This inconsistency proves particularly troubling in light of the origin of the area's refugee problem.  To that end, Julius writes that two victim populations "arose out of the Arab-Israeli conflict, and the Arab leadership bears responsibility for needlessly causing both Nakbas -- the Jewish and the Arab."   Why?  Had the Arab leadership accepted the 1947 United Nations Partition Resolution rather than resorting to war then neither Jewish nor Arab refugees would have existed.

     Julius' Uprooted reads like a historical brief dedicated to vindicating the memory of Jewish refugees in Arab lands.  She informs or reminds her readers of the importance of her subject while demonstrating that the reigning leftist narrative of unending Israeli persecution of Palestinian refugees is simplistic if not utterly misleading.  In this respect, her book performs a valuable educative service.  When evaluating Julius's work, the vast chronological and geographical scale of her undertaking should be kept in mind.  The author's attempt to supply a comprehensible historical account of Jewish life under Islamic rule as background to Jewish refugee problem proves to be a formidable task.  This challenge helps explain most of the small annoyances that even a sympathetic reader may feel.  Uprooted is organized historically, with each chronological period defined by a specific idea or motif.  Still, these two organizational principles do not always neatly fit together, making the book a bit of an uneven read.  For example, the myth that grassroots efforts today are able to bring Jews and Palestinians together is  criticized early in a chapter dealing  largely  with the e myth of peaceful and even wholesome coexistence between Jews and Muslims that historically existed in Arab lands.  Almost 200 pages later, the subject is revisited with different examples in the book's final chapter, "Myths, Lies and Omissions."  More generally, Julius' chapter discussions encompass wide swaths of time and place and it is not always obvious which of these are specifically encompassed by a number of her broad generalizations. Numbers she provides also can be conflicting.  In most (but not all) cases, the author acknowledges this by making reference to the different sources from which they derive.  Unfortunately she usually makes no effort to explain more fully or reconcile such differences.  An additional concern is that sourcing in places proves shallow or not authoritative.  Finally, there is an occasional confusion or two.  For, example, consider Julius' claim that the "theories of Jean-Francois Revel, Michael Foucault and Edward Said hover in the background of many a 'progressive' Westerners'  view of the Middle East."   Equating Said and Revel appears to be hopelessly mistaken on its face. The only way to rescue this quotation would be If the author is relying on some little known work of Revel.  If so, at a minimum, the author owes us at least a citation, if not an explanation.  

     Julius acknowledges the academic elephant in the room in a single sentence:  "Only a handful of Western historians specialize in the Jews from the Middle East and North Africa, and their work rarely penetrates the mainstream, with the possible exception of Sir Martin Gilbert's In Ishmael's House, published in 2010."  But Gilbert's work, whose subtitle is "A History of Jews in Muslim Lands" is foundational and I have no doubt Julius relies upon it a great deal, even if that reliance is implicit.  Of the two books, Gilbert's is more judicious generally and less condemning of Islam and Islamic anti-Judaism specifically (although it is important to point out that he makes no effort to whitewash it either).  On this matter, there is a simple difference of emphasis between the two authors.  However, it is fair to say that Gilbert's In Ishmael's House is much less polemical than is Julius' Uprooted.  Furthermore, Gilbert's geographical scope is larger.  He discusses a greater number of countries than does Julius (for example, he references Afghanistan and Iran).  The development of Gilbert's book tracks historically and therefore  is straightforward. He does a masterful job of presenting his ideas clearly and contextually.  As might be expected from such a distinguished historian, Gilbert's use of academic sources is exemplary. 

     Anyone interested in the problem of Jewish refugees from Arab lands ought to read both these books.  Most readers will learn a great deal from them.  On the theory that life is short, and many of the readers of this article are not wanting for things to do, it must be said that Julius' Uprooted does not replace Martin Gilbert's In Ishmael's House as the standard work on this subject. 

     Still, Lyn Julius' book serves an important purpose at a time when history has become a routine propaganda tool of ideological movements, particularly on the left. Julius demonstrates that the oft-repeated tale of Arab Palestinian suffering  at the hands of a racist Israel proves utterly misleading as a comprehensive account of Middle East politics in general, or of Israel in particular. Race was not a factor in the Arab persecution of their Middle East Jewish population.  This largely ignored Jewish refugee population had deep ancestral roots in the area and were racially indistinguishable from the Arab governments that dispossessed them. Conversely, Jews of all skin colors were welcomed into Israel.  And while their integration into Israeli life was full of stumbles and missteps, that nation's effort often was also heroic and inspiring.  It turns out that by describing the plight of Jewish refugees at a time when the Middle East was inundated by refugees caused by unnecessary warfare, she has also helped rescue Israel from oft-repeated but utterly irresponsible accusations of colonialism, racism and systematic evil-doing.

     Here is one more thing to consider. If the debate over the status of Palestinian and Jewish refugees (not to mention the status of Israel's Arab citizens) ultimately points to the merit and worth of Israel as a political experiment, It is no accident that current animus toward Israel unites enthusiasts of political Islam and radical western progressive thought even though they share radically different and fundamentally incompatible notions of what constitutes the good life.  What unites them, as has often been pointed out, is a passionate loathing of the West.    This is the sense behind the oft quoted Iranian mantra that the United States is the big Satan and Israel is the little Satan. The slogan recognizes that Israel, in many ways is the prototypical western country.  It stands as a proxy for western civilization.  Israel's foundational political ideas are derived from enlightenment ideas and encompasses a respect for majority rule, individual rights and the rule of law. Additionally, Israel embodies the outward directed modern western mindset of what V. S. Naipaul called the West's "universal society".  This state of mind alone seeks to understand and engage the world while exercising "idea of individual responsibility, choice, the life of the intellect, the idea of vocation and perfectibility and achievement."   Simultaneously, Jerusalem today also endures as the West's continuing symbol of religion and revelation. Like Athens, its memory and presence continue to form, inform and energize Western civilization. Little wonder that Israel is so often singled out for condemnation by a postmodern political ideology that rejects the worth of Western Civilization as well as its underlying understanding of reason and revelation as central to human life.  This ideological perspective would substitute in their place the primacy of emotion--particularly the emotion of a moral revulsion rooted in the application of identity politics to so-called oppressed peoples.  Lyn Julius demonstrates that one possible object of this revulsion--Israel's Middle Eastern Jews--should be understood as a sympathetic people rather than condemned as a blameworthy part of a morally reprehensible state.  For that reason alone, she deserves our gratitude.