When studying Talmud, one is forced to
think about and articulate one's assumptions and the consequences of
any given point at any given stage of consideration. The Gemara has a
phrase in Aramaic that sums up the latter nicely: למאי
נפקא מינה? Loosely translated it means: What is the
practical difference?
To put these points another way: 1)What
were you thinking? 2) And therefore what?
In much of the political and religious
discourse I have observed, and here in Israel those are not always
separate things, I have sensed that the writers have not asked these
most fundamental questions of themselves.
I will start with a phrase that is
often uttered here, particularly around Yom Hashoah (Holocaust
Remembrance Day) and that is “Never Again.”
Broadly speaking, this phrase has been
interpreted in two similar, but distinct ways. One way is: Never
again we will as Jews allow the Jewish people to be slaughtered. The
other way is: We, as Jews, who were victims of the Holocaust cannot
allow the suffering of others and we, as Jews, cannot be the
instrument of others' suffering.
Again, in a broad sense, the political
right has adopted the first interpretation while the political left
has adopted the second.
To my mind, both interpretations are
valid and important and both should be taken as true. However,
because they are distinct, it is worth understanding the implications
of each individually and how we might adopt them both.
If I understand the phrase to indicate
that the sole lesson of the Holocaust was to make certain that Jews
would never again be led to slaughter, what does that say about my relation to other
people in the world? Does it matter to me as a Jew that other
genocides take place? Does being concerned only about my people
preclude me from being concerned about others?
On the other hand, if the lesson of the
Holocaust is to make certain that we are not the instrument of the
suffering of others, regardless of who is under threat, can that also
come at the expense of my own survival or, at least, at the expense
of my own wellbeing?
These different mindsets play out here
in attitudes regarding our ongoing conflict with the Arab world in
general and the Palestinians in particular.
When the nascent state of Israel was
under attack (even before the formal declaration of independence),
the consensus was reflexive: We must defend ourselves- we will not
allow another Holocaust to happen to the Jews. This was obvious to
the Jewish inhabitants of Israel at the time and they banded together to fight off their would be destroyers. There
wasn't time to consider what the consequences would be if we won,
only what the consequences would be if we lost. We had to win
militarily or to be annihilated. That was the specific threat
enunciated by Arab leaders bent on our collective destruction.
Peaceful resistance was not an option.
We said 'never again will Jews be led
to slaughter.'
Upon our victory, we found that we had
incorporated a sizable non-Jewish minority into our new country, most
of them Arab. Despite our Declaration of Independence which held that
all would be treated equally and granted equal rights, we put the
Arab population under military rule. We were worried about a fifth
column within our midst. We had to set aside our ideals in order to
insure our own survival.
Military rule was not
lifted and full rights were not granted until 1966. Even since then,
while much progress has been made, the Israeli Arab population
continues to suffer discrimination.
Did we overreact? Hard to say, even in hindsight.
But once again we said 'never again.'
Moreover, since 1967, we found
ourselves in charge of territories with an Arab population. Thus
began the so called 'occupation' which has continued to this day.
While Israel tried to negotiate land
for peace almost immediately after the war, we were met with the
rejection of the Arab League which said “"no peace with
Israel, no recognition of Israel, no negotiations with it...”
So we said 'never again.'
Whatever your opinion is on this
situation, however, we know that this Arab population, which came to
be known as the Palestinians, suffers at our hand. Maybe their lives
are objectively better than in other Arab countries, maybe we have
done much to improve their situation. But we also know that they
suffer in various ways.
And here is the other
'never again.'
I have often heard activists from the
left quote the verse from the Torah ואהבת
לרעך כמוך (You shall love your neighbor as yourself)
as proof that we must treat the Palestinians as we would want to be
treated. This is an argument to 'end the occupation.'
However, this simple phrase assumes
that if we are to treat others well, we must first love ourselves. If
I don't love myself and treat myself properly, what good will it do
to my neighbors to treat them in the same fashion?
On every airplane flight, we are told
that in the event of loss of oxygen to the cabin that we are to put
on an oxygen mask. If we are traveling with a child, we are to put
ours on first and then the child's. Why? Because if we don't insure
our own survival, we put the survival of our child at risk much more
than if we put on their mask first and then pass out.
If we don't insure our own survival, we
cannot be certain that anyone else will. As Hillel said: אם
אין אני לי מי לי? If I am not for myself who is
for me?
Some on the left will say that we are
all human beings, all equally deserving of fair and just treatment.
This is so. However, would any of us
put the life of a stranger ahead of the life of our own children? If
one claims to love everyone, for practical purposes, they love no
one.
If you love yourself, you can love your
family. You can then love your community and your people. Beyond
that, yes, you can love others. But for your own sake and your own
survival, you prioritize.
Hillel continues, though, and says:
וכשאני לעצמי מה אני? And
when I am for myself alone, what am I?
If we understand that 'never again'
means to preserve only our own lives and wellbeing, what are we?
Reality stares us in the face daily: Four million Arabs in the
territories. We cannot simply ignore them and assume we will be 'just
fine.' We have 47 years of recent history to attest to the contrary.
We cannot just wish our neighbors away.
We Israelis have an obligation first
and foremost to ourselves, including our non-Jewish citizenry. We
have a long way to go to make our society truly Jewish and democratic with equal
rights enjoyed by all. But the first duty we have is to protect our
lives and wellbeing.
Only then can we love our neighbors as
ourselves.
Check out my other
blog on topics of Jewish learning.
