Zohar Raviv
anatperry.alma@gmail.com, Tel: 054-5569548
Published in the Journal of the Jewish Museum of Australia, Gandel Center of Judaica Vol. 12, Num. 3 (2007), pp.14-15
During my recent visit to Australia I was asked to comment on the tension that seems inherent in Israel’s vision to sustain both a Jewish and democratic state; a tension originating at the conceptual level and manifesting in the everyday. I aimed in fact to address this issue during one of my lectures at Monash University but never got to do so due to time constraints. I am therefore delighted at the opportunity to present some preliminary thoughts here, in the hope that they generate further discussion in your vibrant community.
A necessary prerequisite is obviously a clarification of the terms Judaism and Democracy. Starting with ‘Judaism’, the particular context of our subject matter foregrounds that aspect of Judaism which places it as the only system of faith featuring a national imperative. Whereas the terms ‘Christian’ or ‘Muslim’ do not suggest a particular national affinity, Judaism can neither be fully explored nor fully appreciated devoid of Israel as its incubating landscape – a unique condition, unshared by any other system of faith in the world. Jews are inseparable from the role this particular Homeland has been playing in their shared narrative, regardless the land which they have opted to call ‘home’ throughout history. Judaism cannot therefore be confined to religious terminologies as are other systems of faith; for Judaism is not solely a religious system but rather a religious skeleton fortified by a national backbone whose raison d’être was and continues to be the relationship between the People, the Torah and the Land of Israel, the first two inextricably entwined with the latter. Israel’s Declaration of Independence thus reads: “The Land of Israel was the birthplace of the Jewish people. Here their spiritual, religious and political identity was shaped. Here they first attained to statehood, created cultural values of national and universal significance and gave to the world the eternal Book of Books. […] We…hereby declare the establishment of a Jewish state in the Land of Israel, to be known as the State of Israel”.
The above is quite significant a context when we explore the term ‘Democracy’ and revisit Israel’s vision to be a liberal democracy on par with the leading democracies of the world. Here, again, the particular nature of the subject matter demands the understanding that the sort of liberal democracies which were established in the U.S.A and around Western Europe during the 17th-18th centuries relied most tellingly on the “Separation of Church and State” configuration (Australia also subscribes to this model, of course). This conceptual model could work only as long as the “Church” (read ‘any system of faith’) was indeed confined to the religious domain, making it in turn conceptually distinguishable from the civil or national domains. Since the term “Christian” does not connote any particular national affinity, the Church could be indeed set apart from the affairs of any hosting State. Judaism, however, does not subscribe to such a categorization, and we need to consider the national imperative as integral to its theological narrative – the State of Israel as a modern entity whose very existence relies on the idea of the Land of Israel, meaning (as the Declaration clarifies) that Israel is not merely a state for Jews but “a Jewish state”.
Here indeed lies the crux of the matter: can Israel – arguably a distinctive condition in and of itself – maintain its Jewish character while sustaining a democracy in the western model? At this juncture we are faced with an exclusive and serious choice that corresponds with this exclusive and serious situation; for upon carrying the dilemma ad absurdum we must admit that the very core of the State of Israel is already in violation of “the Separation of Church and State” model. Israel’s raison d’être itself is vindicated by theology, not to mention its name, anthem, language, national symbols and numerous other features which all derive directly from its evolving religious narrative. Any desire to impress the western emblem of liberal democracies on the Israeli mold might therefore introduce more confusion than clarity, to say the least. To put it more bluntly, to claim that Israel can become a Jewish state in complete accord with the western model of democracy is to avoid any serious attention to Israel’s unique Jewish trajectory and to undermine the true complexity of both its demands and effects. In order for Israel to be democratic in the full western sense, Israel needs to uproot its very heart – to change its name; to discard its vision; to revise its anthem; and to diminish (if not altogether abolish) the validity and impact of anything that distinguishes it as Jewish. To put it boldly, in order for Israel to become democratic in that sense, Israel must undergo Jewicide – to commit suicide as a Jewish State.
Our vision should not therefore revolve around superimposing foreign models of democracy over the Israeli conceptual backdrop. Rather, it should concentrate on articulating and realizing a democracy that accepts the Jewish skeleton of the State as fundamental in its vision. Insofar as Jewish citizens are concerned, the debate over the realization of the State’s Jewish character should be viewed as a healthy part of its trajectory. All Jewish citizens must therefore be allowed to exercise any type of freedom in articulating and realizing their individual correspondence with the elements (religious and others) which fashion Israel as a Jewish State.
Insofar as non-Jewish citizens are concerned, the unique condition of the Jewish State renders them equal in rights but unequal in standing – as controversial as the latter might sound. ‘Equal in rights’ means that any non-Jewish citizen must enjoy identical privileges as do Jews before the law and in all matters involving human liberties, adequate infrastructure, education, cultural and religious freedoms, welfare etc – as long as those do not infringe on the basic Jewish character of the State as a whole. This is not only the elementary obligation of any democracy, but undeniably the ethical charge put before a state that calls itself ‘Jewish’. ‘Unequal in standing’ – putting it boldly – means that non-Jewish citizens should not expect to enjoy equal affinity as do Jews with the national backbone of the State (e.g., its name, symbols, anthem etc) and with its right to sustain a Jewish governing majority. As non-Jews, therefore, they inevitably experience a different level of correspondence with the State and a lesser impact on its overall national character. As harsh a reality as this is, any attempt to fashion a Jewish democratic state whose entire citizenry is inherently equal is no more than rhetorical regurgitation of the terms ‘Judaism’ and ‘Democracy’.
During a discussion with my colleague and friend Professor Mark Baker at Monash University, Mark stated that in the event that he would need to choose between democracy and Jewishness in Israel, “democracy would win in a heartbeat”. I maintain that in the Israeli scenario democracy is not held sacrosanct as an unyielding absolute, already perfected, as it is sometimes perceived in Western rhetoric. Judaism, I believe, needs not necessarily stand in the way of a healthy democracy, as long as this democracy is contoured according to the particular curves of the Jewish condition and does not aim to bend it under the weight of ill-suited models. But what does this mean for the everyday life of non-Jewish Israeli citizens? To what degree can they participate in Israeli nationality and exercise their part in its evolving identity? A systematic investigation of these critical questions is obviously not possible here, and within the limited scope of this essay I could have only offered an example or two of the concrete repercussions on non-Jews. My purpose here has been to briefly set forth the conceptual framework that underlies the very notion of a “Jewish democratic state”; the task of fleshing out its consequences requires not only more space, but obviously more voices than just my own.
