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Daniel Gordis – The National Liberation Movement of the Jewish People

On May 12, 1948, ten men—the People’s Administration—gathered in Tel Aviv to make what was later described as “perhaps the most important decision in the history of the People of Israel for 2,000 years.” They had to decide whether or not to declare independence two days later, when the British were scheduled to depart Palestine.

There was nothing simple about the decision. The yishuv’s (the pre-state Jewish community in Palestine) military leadership told David Ben-Gurion that the chances of the Jews surviving the military onslaught that was certain to follow were about 50%. Declaring independence meant running the risk that—just over three years after Europe’s genocidal madness had finally subsided—the Jews might be slaughtered once again. Ben-Gurion told his colleagues that if they proceeded, they needed to be prepared for great loss of life, and likely, loss of parts of the already small territory that the UN had voted on November 29 to give to the Jews.

The People’s Administration voted to declare independence, but by a vote of 6-4. It literally could not have been closer. Those who voted to go for it understood that they risked being slaughtered by the thousands because of their decision (and indeed, thousands would die in the War of Independence), but they also knew that such a moment might never return. What worried them was this: If they did not do it then, would it be another 1,000 years before the Jews had another chance at statehood, another chance to take their history and their destiny into their own hands? One wrong move, they understood, and the possibility of a Jewish future would slip through their fingers.

Naftali Bennett didn’t refer to that vote of the People’s Administration during yesterday’s Knesset votes, but he did make a point of reminding his fellow MK’s that the Jews had fallen and lost their sovereignty in this land twice before—precisely because they hated each other so much that they literally could not work together. Those of us who subjected ourselves to watching the Knesset proceedings live on Israeli TV, for hour after mercilessly horrifying hour, got a bit of a sense of what things must have sounded like in 586 BCE or 70 CE.

It was much worse than painful. It was humiliating, infuriating, sad beyond words. I found myself saying to myself, “We’re going to lose this one, too. No question.”

A couple of stiff drinks later, I was a bit less despondent, but I know no one in Israel who wasn’t horrified by the circus-like spectacle to which we were subjected. There is much to say about the new government, which we will do down the road, but for now, less than 24 hours after the the vote, three quick points.

Yair Lapid didn’t speak, and spoke perfectly:

Naftali Bennett actually spoke quite well, when people finally let him string a few words together. He also showed great deference to Bibi Netanyahu (more on which below). But the speech that everyone will remember was Yair Lapid’s. It lasted about one minute; here is what he said:

I’m skipping the speech I had planned to deliver today because I’m here to say one thing – to ask for forgiveness from my mother. My mother is 86 years old and we don’t ask her to come to Jerusalem lightly. But we did it because I assumed that you would be able to control yourselves and behave with statesmanship at this moment, and she would see a smooth transition of government. When she was born, there was no State of Israel, Tel Aviv was a small town of 30,000 people and we didn’t have a parliament. I wanted her to be proud of the democratic process in Israel. Instead, she, along with every citizen of Israel, is ashamed of you and remembers clearly why it is high time that we replace you. Thank you.

Shame was the right word. He said everything that needed to be said.

If, by the way, you have not read his book, Memories After My Death: The Story of Joseph ‘Tommy’ Lapid (an “autobiography” of his father that he wrote), I highly recommend it. It’s moving, it’s clever and it’s a fabulous window into Israel’s history.

We have all witnessed a Greek tragedy unfolding in slow motion:

Whoever one supported in the most recent election (or the one before that, or the one before that, or the one before that), we ought not lose sight of the fact that Benjamin Netanyahu was once a great man, a person who has devoted his entire life to the service of the Jewish people. Netanyahu is also extraordinarily competent at many things; Israel’s strong economy is largely due to him, Israel is post-Covid largely due to him. There are accomplishments aplenty. He is also probably the most skilled politician in Israeli history (and he thus may well be back).

So why is he not Prime Minister? He is not Prime Minister now because no one believes a word he says anymore. Naftali Bennett, once his protégé, was spurned and though a committed rightist (to the right of Bibi, for sure), joined with Labor and Meretz and an Islamist party, all in order to unseat Netanyahu. Gideon Saar, also once Netanyahu’s protégé, didn’t even bother to take Bibi’s calls in recent days; he knew there was no reason to believe anything that Bibi might say.

It’s a Greek tragedy because the greatness is gone.

There’s a tradition in Israel, which has never been broken except for when the outgoing PM was unable to attend because of medical reasons, that the outgoing and incoming PM’s meet in the PM’s office, have a toast, and the keys, so to speak, are turned over. (Think Marine One taking off from the White House on Inauguration Day.) Guess what didn’t happen this time?

Haaretz has been calling Bibi “Trump-like” for years. But yesterday, there was hardly a news outlet that wasn’t (that was often intended as a positive, too). Netanyahu the “world-class-statesman” announced that he would not show.

He was present, of course, during the horrifying Knesset circus, but sat, sphinx-like behind his Covid mask, saying nothing, doing nothing. All it would have taken for the Knesset not to be an utter embarrassment yesterday would have been for Bibi to stand up and say, “friends, colleagues—I share your frustration. And we will get back into power quickly. But for now, please show respect to this chamber, and let the proceedings unfold.”

But Netanyahu said nothing, because he no longer cares about the chamber, or the proceedings. He cares only about the guy behind the mask, and Israelis know it. That’s why even many in the Likud are anxious to be done with him. Watching him preside in silence over the desecration of the chamber to which he’s devoted his life was pathetic—in the genuine Greek meaning of the word.

Zionism—The National Liberation Movement of the Jewish people:

Finally, for now, take a look at the “front page” of the NYTimes this morning. I’ve taken the liberty of highlighting the screen shot. What other country’s elections—especially elections that are likely to change almost nothing about that country’s policies—would have had six stories devoted to the story?

How are we to explain this fascination with Israel, a country the size of New Jersey with a population roughly the size of the city of New York? To be sure, part of it is that, of all the countries created after World War II, Israel is one of the very few that has been democratic throughout. And yesterday’s unseating of Netanyahu was a poignant reminder that the circus notwithstanding, the democracy here works. It’s actually quite amazing. That’s worth one story, may two.

So why six? Israel has always punched way above its weight when it comes to column-inches, for one very simple reason: Zionism is the national liberation movement of the Jewish people. Plain and simple. And no national liberation movement of any people, any group, any anything, has been nearly as successful as Zionism. Period.

Zionism is simply humanity’s greatest story of national rebirth, probably ever. People who don’t like Jews very much can’t stop thinking about that. And people who still harbor universal hopes for new beginnings, for rebirth, for life recreated after near annihilation, also can’t stop thinking about that.

Whatever one thinks of Israel, its policies or its government—that it is the grandest story of human rebirth, ever, is simply beyond denial. And that explains the NYT front page.

 

That was the true tragedy of yesterday: No Israeli child watching the atrocious behavior walked away thinking that to be Israeli is to be part of one of humanity’s greatest stories. No one who moved to the country watched and thought, “Ah, this is why I am here.” No one whose grandparents clawed their way here from Europe and fought to create this nation felt we had done them proud. No one now serving in the military, to keep this place afloat against all odds, said to herself or himself, “this is why I do what I do.”

No one felt anything but sick.

Which brings us back to May 12, 1948. If those ten men who voted on that critical day were looking down, there is no chance they were doing anything but weeping.

If they could speak, they would probably have said something close to what Bennett said: Remember the First Temple, and remember 586 BCE. Remember the Second Temple, and remember 70 CE. Think Jerusalem in flames. Think Arch of Titus. Think thousands of Jews being exiled, to slavery, prostitution, to death and to thousands of years of European torture. “Think of all that,” they might have figuratively said to the MK’s having tantrums, demeaning democracy and humiliating their country in front of the entire world, “and still you do this?”

It would be enough to make them weep. Even more importantly, though, it needs to be enough to get us to keep working, to fix this, and to make sure that it’s not on our watch, or on the watch that follows, that the Jewish future slips through our fingers.