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KANSAS CITY
DDD1 D3tbS55 D
OCT15
ISRAEL:
ITS ROLE IN CIVILIZATION
ITS ROLE IN CIVILIZATION
Edited by
MOSHE DAVIS
PUBLISHED BY
THE SEMINARY ISRAEL INSTITUTE
OF
THE JEWISH THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY OF AMERICA
DISTRIBUTED BY
HARPER & BROTHERS

NEW YORK
ISRAEL: ITS ROLE IN CIVILIZATION
Copyright, 1956, by The Jewish Theological Seminary

of
America. Printed in the United States of America. All

rights in this book are reserved. No part of the book may
be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without
written permission except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Second Printing, May 1956
Library of Congress catalog card number: 55-12408

CONTENTS
MOSHE DAVIS Introduction: The Seminary Israel
Institute vii
ROSE L. HALPRIN Dedicatory Preface to Hayim

Greenberg xv
Part L The Role of Israel in the Modern World
1. Louis FINKELSTEIN The State of Israel as a Spiritual

Force 3
2. DAVID BEN GURION The Spirit of the New Israel 18
Part II. What History Teaches
1. WILLIAM F. ALBRIGHT Israel Prophetic Vision and Histori-

cal Fulfillment
31
2. H. Louis GINSBERG The Dead Sea Manuscript Finds:
New Light on Eretz Yisrael in the
Greco-Roman Period 39
3. SALO W. BARON Second and Third Commonwealth:

Parallels and Differences
58
4. MORTON SMITH Palestinian Judaism in the First
Century 67
5. SAUL LIEBERMAN Jewish Life in Eretz Yisrael as

Reflected in the Palestinian Talmud 82
6. CARL J. FRIEDRICH Israel and the End of History 92

v
vi Contents
Part 111. The New State
1. ABBA EBAN Nationalism and Internationalism in

Our Day in
2. YEHUDA LEO KOHN The Emerging Constitution of Israel 130
3. JACOB ROBINSON A Democracy in an Autocratic World 146
4 HAYIM GREENBERG Religion and the State in Israel 165
5. S. D. GOITEIN The Yemenite Jews in the Israel
Amalgam 176
6. MILTON KATIMS Music-Making in Israel 185
7. MORDECAI NARKISS Jewish and Universal Trends in Con-

temporary Israeli Art 194
8. MARTIN BUBER Character Change and Social Experi-
ment in Israel
204
9. ALLAN NEVINS The Future of Israel 214
Part IV. America and Israel
1. HOWARD MUMFORD JONES The Land of Israel in the Anglo-

Saxon Tradition 229
2. SELIG ADLER Backgrounds of American Policy
Toward Zion 251
3. ROBERT T. HANDY Zion in American Christian

Movements 284
4. ALEXANDER BEIN American Settlement in Israel 298
5. ABBA EBAN United States and Israel: Elements of

a Common Tradition 310
Contributors to "Israel: Its Role in Civilization"

323
Index 2r
INTRODUCTION: THE SEMINARY
ISRAEL INSTITUTE
The new State of Israel was born at a time when the world itself
was struggling to be reborn. Thus, it
may be said, Israel has emerged
m our contemporary world both as reality and symbol.
The reality is the establishment in 1948 of a young and dynamic
democracy in Eretz Yisrael the Third Commonwealth in the his-
tory of the Jewish people. To be sure, this commonwealth has been

engaged and for some time to come will have to continue to be en-
gaged in a heroic struggle to solve many complex human, economic,
and political problems. But its eagerness to face these problems is it-
self an expression of the symbol Israel represents: the symbol of com-
mitment to a role as bridgehead between Orient and Occident, antiq-

uity and modernity, spiritual truth and technological progress.
For the world Jewish community, too, Israel is both reality and
symbol. Throughout the darkest days of the Dispersion, the hope
of Jews in the Restoration never waned. Most of them went to Jeru-
salem by way of prayer and longing; some set out as pilgrims; others
went in small groups to settle. But always, wherever Jews went, they
were going to Jerusalem. Modern Israel is, therefore, in every sense,
the creation of the entire Jewish people of all generations.
In our era, following the torment of the great catastrophe, the
new state became a house of refuge, a home for the scattered and
persecuted. Yet the program of ingathering,
even in its earliest stages,
was directed to the spiritual realm as well. Consequently, Israel
vii
viii Introduction
serves today, with increasing intensity, as the spiritual and cultural

center of the Jewish people everywhere. Classic Jewish creativity and
widely disparate cultures are blending in the new Israeli climate,

of Hebrew as the language
particularly because of the revitalization
of daily expression. But, above all, the state has become the Land
of the ultimate Return, the Land where the Covenant people is to
establish a fellowship for the service of all mankind the Higher
Jerusalem.
Mindful as we are of the remarkable opportunities for spiritual
growth and human service which the new state affords, we must
nevertheless recognize that the genius of life transcends the contem-
porary. The historic process has its own drive and propulsive power,
itsown laws of continuity and change. It seems to be within the very
nature of social and spiritual transmutations that their deeper mean-
ing eludes even those through whose sacrifice and effort the new
order comes into existence. It is therefore for future generations to
continue to probe the character of the inheritance bequeathed to
them.
In our generation, Israeli and American Jewries, as the two dom-
inant Jewish communities in the world, are compelled to define the
place of Israel in the world scheme, and then to help make possible
the full realization of that definition and objective. In this task, a
unique obligation rests upon American Jewry. For the establishment
of the state and its admission into the world of nations, in which the
American people generally played so great a part, calls for an unprec-
edented form of relationship between these two communities.
Clearly separated in their political loyalties, the two Jewries none-
theless are one in their faith as members of the Jewish people and in
their concern for fellowJews throughout the world.
Moreover, the dynamics of the current Israeli and world scene,
the central position which Jewry in Eretz Yisrael occupies in the
Tradition and in current Jewish cultural and spiritual life, and the
continuing development of American Jewry as an indigenously crea-
tive Jewish community have made the relationship between the two
communities an even closer one. This is both to be expected and
desired. For Israeli and American Jewry are part of the same stream
Introduction ix
of Jewish history and commitment, and they cannot suffer any con-
tainment of ideas, any isolation of thought from one another.
Nor can either American Jewry or Israel deny the new complex
of problems created by life's conditions.
Precisely because the situation
is unprecedented, and geopolitical and sociological circumstances
complicated, confusions abound, directions and goals lack clarity,
and costly energies are spent in divergent, and often conflicting, ef-
indispensable if program and action are to have value.
forts. Clarity is
A school of thought devoted to exploring and evaluating the social

and spiritual strength inherent in the fact of statehood, a strength of
advantage to Judaism and all mankind, is therefore an indispensable
need.
The central objective of such a school of thought would be to
accept the aspiration of the state itself to be judged by the standard

of quality rather than technological evolution as the measure of
Israel's continuing development. Functioning within the American
community, it could benefit from the perspective of distance and

could bring together diverse types of Western experience for effective
illumination of the Israeli effort. It could compel critical inquiry and
the examination of specialized problems. It could help to delineate
clearly the emergent character of Israel.
Without attempting to attribute to anyone else the responsibility

for these views and their formulation, this was the mood and general
pattern of thought, as I recall it, which ran through the conversations

between the late Dr. Hayim Greenberg, head of the Department
of Education and Culture of the Jewish Agency for Palestine, and
Dr. Louis Finkelstein, Chancellor of The Jewish Theological Semi-
nary, in which I was privileged to participate. As they talked, it was
apparent that both men were deeply stirred by the vast spiritual po-
inherent in the Israeli enterprise as an example for all
tentialities
mankind. Dr. Finkelstein referred to the miracle we have witnessed

"as impressive as any recorded in Scripture," and Dr. Greenberg
spoke of the "drama of redemption which is unfolding in Israel."

They talked of the need for a continuing study and understanding
of Israel's total experience, with particular emphasis on its moral and
spiritual values. Both felt impelled to initiate some appropriate ac-
x Introduction
tion whereby the wider American public, and in particular the

opinion-forming circles o the community, could gather to study and
discuss the varied aspects of the cultivation of the human spirit in
Israel in religion and culture, in economics and technology, in the
dynamics of the social process and interpret these high moments

to the community at large. They sensed that it would be another
validation of the American Idea, and an additional sign of the inter-
connectedness of the two countries through this Idea, if the initiative
for such a study forum came from America, and if the center of the
activity were at the Seminary, in the heart

of the New York aca-
demic community.
As a result of these conversations, and as a first step toward the
realization of this long-range program, there was formally inaugu-
rated and established on February 21, 1952, the Seminary Israel In-
stitute of The Jewish Theological Seminary of America, cosponsored
by the Jewish Agency for Palestine and an invited group of institu-

tions of learning and national organizations. The program of the
Institute was formulated by Dr. Finkelstein as follows:
The purpose of the Seminary Israel Institute is to strengthen the spirit-

ual and cultural bonds between the State of Israel and America; to offer
Americans an interpretation of the spiritual and cultural values of the
State of Israel; to foster an understanding of the potential role of the
State of Israel as intermediary between the Orient and the Occident; and
to help develop a recognition of the State of Israel as a spiritual center for
Jewry everywhere.
The Seminary Israel Institute has sought to fulfill this fourfold pur-
pose through the courses and lectures which it has conducted during
the past four years.
Publication of the addresses given at the Institute was conceived
to bean integral part of the program in order that the ideas presented
would receive the widest possible dissemination. The first volume
to appear, in 1953, as an outgrowth of the Institute lecture courses is
Professor Mordecai M. Kaplan's A NewZionism, which carries with
it the further distinction of being the first publication of the newly
Introduction xi
created Neumann
Theodor Herzl Foundation of which Dr. Emanuel
is who gave the course on "The
chairman. Professor Hillel Bavli,
Religious Aspects of Modern Hebrew Poetry'* in 1953, is preparing
a volume in Hebrew based on these lectures. The 1955 lectures on
"The History of the Hebrew Language" will probably be published
as separate studies.
Theconvocation and luncheon lectures, which are published in
this volume, are organized, not in the order of their original presenta-
tion, but in the context of four basic areas of discussion: Israel in
the perspective of the world scene, what modern scholarship teaches
us about ancient Eretz Yisrael, inner life in the new state, and the
nature of the interrelationship between Israel and America.
Regrettably, not all the participants prepared their addresses for
publication. Several of the earlier lectures were first recorded on
tape and then edited, with the approval of the speakers; others pre-
pared full manuscripts which they delivered in summary form. This
explains the varying lengths of the contributions.
Since the basic purpose of the Institute is to provide a platform for
the exchange of ideas, every author was free to express his individual
opinion; and while an attempt was made to adopt a uniform stylistic
scheme, the editor regarded it as his primary responsibility to present

each author in the manner of his own writings. This will explain
some inconsistencies in the organization of footnote material in the
respective articles. A
uniform transliteration key was adopted except
in cases of proper names and terms in common usage. All notes en-
closed in brackets are the editor's.
The addresses of Ambassador Eban were delivered at the first
and second convocations, held in 1952 and 1953,* Dr. Yehuda Leo
Kohn's paper was read at the opening meeting of the third year, 2
and Professor H. Louis Ginsberg inaugurated the Chaim Weiz-
mann Lectureship at the convocation in 1954. Their papers are in-
cluded in the sections which relate most directly to their subjects.
Prime Minister David Ben Gurion delivered his paper at the spe-
*A portion of the address delivered in 1953 appeared in The American Zionist,
September 5, 1953.
2 This
paper was published by the Israeli Office of Information in 1954.
xii Introduction
cialconvocation held in Jerusalem in 1952, under the auspices of the

Seminary, at which time Dr. Finkelstein also spoke. Mr. Ben Gurion's
address is published in the first section in an authorized translation.
Dr. Finkelstein's address appears as the lead article, for it serves best
as the theme statement both for the volume and the Seminary Israel
Institute.
Dr. Hayim Greenberg's address, which was delivered as part of the
first series, was edited posthumously from the tape record-
luncheon
ing.Dr. Ben Halpern, devoted friend and literary associate of Dr.
Greenberg, generously agreed to review our version of the text, and
made several helpful suggestions.
Professor Buber authorized Dr. Maurice S. Friedman, his English
translator and brilliant interpreter, to prepare his talk for publica-
tion from a tape recording; Professor Buber has approved the final
version.
It is a pleasure to mention, in a more personal way, indebtedness
my
to those who helped in the preparation of this volume. The Honor-
able Avraham Harman, formerly Consul General of Israel in the
United States and now
Assistant Director General of the Ministry
for Foreign Affairs, gave unstintingly of his time and wise counsel;
and I deeply regret that he could not prepare in manuscript form his
own incisive contribution to the Institute, "The Future of the
American-Israel Interchange," which he delivered on the eve of his
return to Israel as the final lecture of the 1955 series.
Mrs. Wilfred Wyler participated in the planning of the volume
and helped considerably in the editorial work, especially with the
papers drafted from the tape recordings. And to Miss Shari Ostow,
for her invaluable assistance in a variety of editorial and administra-
tive tasks and for her devotion in preparing the
typescript for pub-
lication, my
profound appreciation. Finally, I express gratitude my
to the authors for their willingness to contribute their time and
thought, thereby making this volume possible, and for their friend-
ship and cordiality of response whenever I called upon them. Their
students in the Seminary Israel Institute, and their students at large,
are deeply beholden to them.
Even as I have been writing these lines of introduction, I have
Introduction xiii
been under the impress o that noble spirit, Hayim Greenberg, to

whom this volume is dedicated: his unceasing labor allthe days of
his life for Eretz Yisrael; his faith in Zion redeemed and with it the
redemption of every human being; his everlasting prayer, with the

Psalmist, for the welfare of Jerusalem, seat of justice. His labor, faith,
and prayer are ours, too.
MOSHE DAVIS
New York City
November i, 1955
DEDICATORY PREFACE
TO HAYIM GREENBERG 1
ROSE L. HALPRIN
In thinking of Hayim Greenberg, I remember, as one so often

vividly does remember things from long ago, a childhood conversa-
tion with my father. When I asked him, "What is immortality?" he
said, "The dead sleep quietly in peace, but when those they have
left behind recall them, then the place in which they sleep is lighted
up and they come to life again.'*
If that is true, then Hayim Greenberg does not sleep in darkness,
but is vibrantly alive, for there is not a single day when his col-
leagues and friends do not think of him and mourn that he is not
here to counsel and guide us.
If all those who knew him, whether intimately or from afar, were
asked to write their impressions of the man, however different

might be these appreciations, the one phrase common to them all
would surely be "moral force." For it was this which distinguished
Hayim Greenberg the moral force that was in him and the radia-
tion and imprint of that moral force upon all who came in contact
with him.
He never preached morality. He never presumed to teach ethics.
He never sought to impose upon others the patterns he set for him-
self. The moral force sprang neither from what he said nor even
from what he did. It was what he was, the sum total of the man,
that made him a revered and beloved leader.
Several times I traveled on the same ship with him to Israel. Each
1 From an address delivered at the Hayirn Greenberg Memorial Meeting at the
Seminary in February, 1954.
xvi Dedicatory Preface
day he would retire to a corner with a book and the characteristic
cigarette. Sometimes he would read his book and sometimes let his
thoughts turn inward, not to contemplate himself, but to embrace,

perhaps, the whole wide world. Inevitably, his fellow passengers
would pass by and stop with him. He never sat long alone. Pulled
as if
by some giant magnet people came to sit with him, to talk
with him, to tell him of themselves, to draw from him something
that stimulated them and ennobled them. They were men of many
faiths, very often of many tongues, yet they all felt drawn to this
man.
At more intimate gatherings, at meetings of the Jewish Agency,
at Zionist meetings in all parts of the world, he would sit and listen.
Sometimes he would speak, more often not. Yet the fact that he sat
among us meant that each one of us was more moderate in his
speech, more careful in his thought, more restrained, seeking to be
better, surer, truer, richer in his thinking, because Hayim Greenberg
was there.
Hayim Greenberg was a scholar, a thinker, a writer, a teacher, a
linguist, a philosopher. Yet he used his gifts with careful modera-

tion. He spoke to many men; he addressed large meetings. Yet
never did he use his gift of words and voice to persuade men to
accept a position which their reason and spirit rejected. He would
and then with reason lead them along the road he
present the facts
hoped they would take.
He was a gifted writer. But there was no flamboyance in his writ-
ing; for again, he used not the skill of words, but the impact of
ideas, to lead men knowledge, understanding, and faith.
to
Hayim Greenberg was never servile to the great, nor condescend-

ing to the humble. He had about him a wonderful simplicity. This
was not an outward garment which leaders sometimes wear, osten-
tatiously, as if they would say, "See how good I am because I am
a simple man.*' His simplicity was of another fabric; it was made of
different stuff. For Hayim Greenberg loved his fellow human
beings, understood equality, believed in it, respected every man as

an equal, demanding only that each try to reach his own full poten-
tial.
Dedicatory Preface xvii
His spirit was the abode of many cultures. He understood the

philosophers of the East, yet he was of the West. He loved this great
land of ours, its freedom and its liberties, and was zealous for the
full flowering of this nation's fullest potentialities.
He was deeply rooted in Jewish life and Jewish history, and knew
the folklore and ways of his people. He was a deeply religious man,
although he was not an observant Jew in the traditional sense. He

has been described as a saint. I would rather talk of him, in the
context of our generation, as seer and prophet.
Because he was a Jew, he was a Zionist. Having great and abiding
faith in themovement, he yet at times found himself in disagree-
ment with the leaders of Israel after the establishment of the state.
Zionism had value for him only if it related to the past as well as
to the future. His Zionism did not negate the Diaspora, but en-
visioned great creativity for it in the future no less than in the past.
Who can forget his address at the last Zionist Congress? Honest,
forthright, and courageous, he brilliantly analyzed American Zion-
ism, and rejected the definition of Zionism proposed by others at
that time. Three years later, we are still grappling with the same
problem. So often we have

thought, "If only Hayim was with us
now," to help us
weigh the right and the wrong, to take us along
the path that would perhaps lead to a greater understanding of the
problem, and a deeper peace.

Hayim Greenberg is gone and we are bereaved. But our bereave-
ment no expression in violent crying aloud which spends itself

finds
and leaves only a vacuum in feeling. Our grief is in harmony with
the gentleness that was in him. Because it is gentler, it will stay
with us much longer. Into the years that lie ahead we will carry
sorrow and remembrance. And not only will the place in which he
sleeps be lighted up, but our world, as well, will be lighted up.
PART I
THE ROLE OF ISRAEL IN

THE MODERN WORLD
THE STATE OF ISRAEL AS A
SPIRITUAL FORCE
LOUIS FINKELSTEIN
The present State of Israel is the third such commonwealth to

emerge on the sacred soil. The first came with Joshua's invasion of
Canaan; the second came under Sheshbazzar as a result of the Edict
of Cyrus and culminated in the Maccabean state. The spiritual im-
pact of the present state on our lives enables us better to understand

what happened in the distant past, just as the records of the past
help us appreciate more completely what is occurring now. Gen-

erally speaking, historical analogies mislead as often as not, for time
is change as well as continuity. It is therefore
dangerous to attempt
prediction on the basis of history. But we may enjoy a study of the
past, and even profit by it, if, instead of trying to utilize it for read-
we rigorously limit our task to that which has been.
ing the future,
The commonwealths of Israel in the past have been noted for
their powerful influence on the spiritual life of their inhabitants, of
Israelites beyond their borders, and of men everywhere. Because
man's spiritual life is
dependent on both emotions and intellect, dif-
ferent and incongruous forces in his make-up, we will have to con-
sider this influence in two separate phases. Of these, it is now gen-
erally assumed that the emotional is the more important so far as

the individual is concerned. Our character and personality depend
far more gready on our feelings than on our convictions; indeed, our
feelings often masquerade as ideas. And among the emotional defects

4 Israel in the Modern World
which may impede spirituality, perhaps none is more grave than a

sense of inferiority. Because emotions are not logical, a feeling of in-
adequacy does not make one humble, but aggressive and arrogant;
meekness is a virtue in the mind, but a vice in the heart.
The need for emotional self-confidence as a basis for the moral life
is not a new discovery. It is the premise of both the Torah and the
Prophets. Before the Torah undertakes to demand of man respect

for his neighbor's life, it assures him that he is himself the bearer of
the Divine image, which is shared by his neighbor. In the very verses
in which we are commanded to recognize the worth and dignity of
all men, we are also given authority over all the rest of animate and
inanimate nature.
This pedagogical insight, which the Torah reveals in offering the
whole species the encouragement of greatness in its call to self-
restraint, is reflected again in its assurance to the Jews of their special
place and role in the economy of the universe. The repeated assur-
ances that Israel has a special service to render mankind is not in-
tended as flattery, but to foster the self-confidence necessary to pre-
serve and advance tradition. This self-respect is essential if the Jews
are to pursue the difficult life of a weak, frequently tormented, and
sometimes disparaged and even despised minority.
One
of the gravest perils of the Nazi persecution to Judaism was
injury to Jewish self-respect and self-confidence. This did not affect

the Jews of Germany so much as it affected Jews of the free coun-
tries.For a time, some of our youth seemed to lose faith in them-
selves,and there was a period when, despite resentment against the
unjust suffering imposed on our brethren, the stream of assimilation
threatened to become a flood.
The emergence of the State of Israel has restored emotional self-
confidence everywhere. That is

go why men to Israel indifferent or
even hostile to Zionism, and come back its devotees. The people of
Israel have performed a miracle before our eyes. What we tried to
inculcate in our children through the tales of the Scriptures has been
brought home to them in daily newspaper headlines. The courage,

the determination, the self-sacrifice, the vision of the leaders and
peo-
ple of the State of Israel, from Weizmann and Ben Gurion to the
Israel as a Spiritual Force 5
forgotten soldier and sailor, have amazed the world, but most of all
their brethren. In this prosaic age, the events which we have wit-
nessed are not described as miracles, or as the ringer of God in hu-
man affairs; but deep in the hearts of all men, the primitive poetry
of our ancestors is still alive, and men know in their souls, though
they do not articulate it with their lips, that that they have wit-
nessed a miracle as impressive as any recorded in Scripture.
We to go back to the crossing of the Red Sea to feel
do not have
a deep and overwhelming conviction that the people of Israel have
been called for a great and unique service to God and mankind. We
'do nothave to ask ourselves whether the conception of our special
purpose and place in the world is myth or reality. We may even
feign a superficial cynicism and agnosticism, and try to explain the
wonder we have seen as mere chance, or the result of skillful diplo-
macy and clever manipulation of people and social forces. Our hearts
are wiser and profounder than our heads; and they tell us that the
birth of the State of Israel, the redemption of the hundreds of thou-
sands of seemingly doomed displaced persons, and the renaissance
of Jewish learning and life in the ancient Prophetic Land are Divine
achievements, in which, once again, Israel appears as His instrument.
We all walk less bent, we all talk more directly, we all follow our
faith with more conviction, we all summon ourselves and our neigh-
bors to great causes with less timidity, because we know that, as in
the days of the Exodus from Egypt, God has shown us wonders.
We can now see how this transformation which is affecting vir-
tually all levels of Jewish society had its first impact on the more
sensitive spirits many years ago. In the spiritual life, unlike the
physical, effects frequently precede rather than follow the events. The
spiritual life is as much determined by the goals which it is seeking
as by facts which have already come to pass; self-confidence can be
aroused in men by a vision of what they can do as well as by a real-
what they have done. Thus the renaissance of Israel began
ization of
long before it was a reality or even a logical possibility.

to bear fruit
Almost a century ago, when the wise, sophisticated, and scholarly,
accustomed to the weighing of logical probabilities, could not rec-
ognize the trend of events, there were many who, intellectually
speaking, belonged perhaps

to the plain people, but who neverthe-
recognized that something new

less and remarkable was about to
happen. The renaissance of the Hebrew language, the enthusiasm
for the expression of Judaism in various forms of art, the rebirth of
Jewish music, were among the more obvious results of the new
self-confidence bred in some groups by the mere vision of a Jewish
commonwealth. If the realization of the State of Israel has been one
of the most powerful educative forces affecting Jewish life in Amer-
ica today, the hope that the commonwealth might emerge was for
decades as we can now see one of the prime motifs in the saga of
modern American Jewish history.
Speaking on behalf of the Seminary, it is

particularly proper to
recognize the indebtedness of this

institution and its associated or-
ganizations to the powerful stimulus which emanated from Zion
even before it was Alone among the religious interpreta-
rebuilt.
tions of Judaism, Conservative Judaism is native to America. But it

could never have emerged on this soil, except under the impetus of
the Zionist movement. Conservative Judaism has contributed greatly
to the advancement of the Yishuv and the State of Israel; but in a cer-
tain sense, it may be said that Conservative Judaism is itself the first-
born child of the marriage of Zionism and Americanism. The enor-
mous faith in ourselves and in our tradition which has enabled us,
like our predecessors, to assert that we can defy the standardization of
modern industrial life; that, rejecting ghettoization, we can partici-
fully in the life of America and yet hold

fast to the traditions of
pate
our fathers; the faith that convinced Solomon Schechter that the
Seminary he was reorganizing was at once a Jewish Seminary and
an American Seminary, which would function effectively in both
areas; the daring that emboldened him and his associates to under-
take the establishment of that great center of Torah in what was

then, from the Jewish point of view, an intellectual and spiritual
wilderness this faith and self-confidence were, in my opinion, by-
products of the vast effort which had already begun to lay the foun-
dations of a resurrected Jewish commonwealth in Eretz YisraeL
There are aspects of the present situation with regard to the State
of Israel which cannot be fully understood without a study of the
commentaries offered by past events. Let us therefore turn to the
footnotes. I do not suggest that we go back to the time of Moses and
Joshua, about which we are so inadequately informed, but to the

well-recorded history of the return under Sheshbazzar and Zerub-
babel, as well as the origin of the Maccabean state.
The Edict of Cyrus was proclaimed in the first year of his reign as
king of Babylonia, 539 B.C.E. But even before Cyrus had achieved
this pinnacle ofpower, the prophet, whose name is unknown, was
proclaiming this king's advent, and his part in the restoration of
Judea, with such spiritual power and insight as had rarely appeared
even in the remarkable history of prophetic inspiration. To this day,
the last twenty-seven chapters of Isaiah, uttered by that great teacher,
remain the inspiration and guide for half the world. Yet, historically,
the event which moved the prophet did not occur until after he had
delivered his message.
And when the event occurred, how profound was the change in
the life of the Judeans and their brothers in Babylonia. The proph-
ecies of Haggai, Zechariah, and Malachi, great as they are, and over-
whelming as their contributions might have seemed in any lesser
age, are among the less significant works of their period. It is the
powerful figure of Ezra, coming to the new land ninety years after
the proclamation of Cyrus but still under its influence, which looms
as one of the most decisive in the story of Judaism and Western
man. Like his brilliant coworker, Nehemiah, Ezra was no returning
exile; he was, to use the felicitous expression introduced by Dr.
Hayim Greenberg, "a pilgrim." He came to Jerusalem, not because

he was unhappy in the capital of the Persian Empire, nor because
he feared persecution there. He came to Jerusalem because he felt
that his contribution to the service of God, of Torah, and of man-
kind could best be made there. And he brought with him a caravan
of people who were moved, as he was, to try to strengthen the new
state, materially as well as spiritually. That his courage and faith did
not permit him to seek a guard from the king against the perils of
the road does not surprise us. But that his followers, obviously less
gifted and less remarkable, should have acquiesced in his decision

is indeed a commentary on the spiritual change which the realiza-
tion of the prophetic dream in the new commonwealth had wrought

in their minds.
Ezra and his followers came to Israel from Babylonia. The Jews
of their native country had been purified of the sins and uncleanli-
ness of idolatry and assimilation in the crucible of exile but it was
not in exile that they were able to develop prophets. Their great
master, Ezekiel, was a child of the First Commonwealth; their great
teachers, beginning with Haggai and culminating in Ezra, were

products of the urge to the Second Commonwealth. Anshe No
Kneset ha-Gedola could emerge on Babylonian soil, or could even
be envisaged, until the new commonwealth had been established.
While the inhabitants of the new Judea were struggling with bad
harvests, with self-deprecation, with enemies within and without,
with open and covert forms of assimilation, and with self-doubt,
the stimulus of their dream was exerting an unexcelled force on a
brother community, four months' travel away, and was bringing the
ablest leaders of that community to participate in the venture of
building a new Jerusalem.

Unlike the return under Sheshbazzar, the rise of the Maccabean
state was not, so far as we know,
heralded by any prophetic voice.
The third century before the Common Era does not seem to have
had any individual, inspired and gifted, on a level comparable to
Deutero-Isaiah or Haggai, Zechariah or Malachi. But the place of
the individual seer was taken, in that day as in ours, by the in-
hungry, profoundly disturbed mass of the peo-

articulate, spiritually
ple.There was no prophet, but there was a prophetic people and

prophetic community. We now know that during the whole of
the third century before the Common Era, Judea was in spiritual
ferment. As Professor H. L. Ginsberg has shown, it seems to me
definitively, the Book
of Daniel, long believed to be a product of
the Maccabean era proper, actually was composed in large part al-
most a hundred years before it. The greater part of the Psalms were
collected,and many of them doubtless were composed, in that pro-
century. It was probably the century which witnessed the begin-
lific
ning of the Apocalypse, the formulation of the earliest Passover Hag-

gadah, and the beginnings of the Midrash and the Mishna.
was a century in which Jews had attained such basic emotional
It
stability and self-confidence as Jews that they composed works of

immortal endurance and, moreover, deliberately refused to yield to
the temptation to share personally in that immortality. It was a cen-
tury which may be ranked among the first for spiritual creativeness
and (perhaps that was one of the reasons for its creativeness) al-
most utter selflessness in spiritual leadership. It was the century when
Judea, finding itself situated between the rival Seleucid and Ptole-
maic empires, suddenly became aware of its own role in the world
and the possibilities which the wooing of its people by the mutually
hostile dynasties offered. Thus the Maccabean age began with a hope,
which became a yearning and then a conviction, that Judea would
in a short time achieve complete self-government and self-direction.
This new confidence was, like that of Ezra's day and our own,
felt not only in the Land of Israel but beyond its borders as well. At
the very beginning of the century the Bible was translated into
Greek. It may seem to us (as it did to many later Rabbinic sages)
that this Hellenization of the Scriptures was not a sign of strength
but of weakness. This, however, is to ignore the facts. Like the de-
velopment of Judische Wissenschajt in our time, the emergence of
the Septuagint and of Hellenistic Jewish literature, generally, in
their periods, showed a new power and energy in the Jewish spirit.
Even where that spirit could not evoke the emotional self-confidence
needed to cleave to the ancient tongue, it was sufficient to elicit great
works of literature. From the Septuagint until Philo we follow the
development of a remarkable school of Jewish studies in Alexandria,
a school which ultimately exerted a strong influence upon the Chris-
tianization of the Roman Empire. According to Professor Harry
Wolfson, the philosophical influence of Philo, greatest spokesman
of the school, was felt in European philosophy down to the time of
Spinoza and, through him, doubtless even in our own schools.

The final emergence of the Maccabean state stirred Judaism into
a spiritual vitality which we can only hope will be emulated in our
own time. The great Hasidean schools, now called Pharisaic, be-
came the centers of Jewish thought and the stimuli of Jewish conduct
to an extent their original founders could scarcely have expected or
io Israel in the Modern World
hoped for. The Biblical vision of a kingdom of priests and a holy

nation was not in fact realized; but within the secular kingdom, there
arose a community of people which came as near complete self-
dedication to the ministry of God as have any human beings on earth.
(I cannot enter here into an analysis of the contribution which these
early Hasideans and Pharisees made to such enduring concepts as

human worth, freedom, democracy, the rights of minorities, the right
to be different, and the pluralistic symbolization of truth in consistent
forms of ritual; but when the whole story has been explored and re-
lated, I believe it will show that our debt to them, always recognized
as immense, in fact incalculable.) The purely human achievement
is
of the Pharisees in outwitting the great empires and establishing their

state created in them and in their followers the self-respect which
transformed their personal characters and led them to hope that they
might even reform the world. To the extent that such hope persists
to this day, it is due to the influence they exerted.
All that has been described so far is on one plane of the spiritual
life the emancipation of man's gifts through freedom from self-
abasement. Obviously, those who walk without fear can think with-
out fear, and will be able to create more effectively than those who
are abject in spirit. But in addition to animating this sense of dignity,
the emergence of the Second Commonwealth in the sixth century

before the Common Era, and of the Maccabean state four hundred
years later, had a direct and powerful impact on the intellect of the
Jewish community. Two ideas, which, next to the concept of the One
God, are perhaps the most powerful and significant mankind has
evolved in its
long history, owe their formulation to the dialectic,
rather than the emotions, which were implicit in these common-
wealths. Of these, the first is the concept of man and his institutions
as servants of God. This concept is inherent in all Biblical literature
from Moses to Malachi, but it received its clearest statement and ex-
position at the hands of the prophet known as Deutero-Isaiah, the
prophet of the first Restoration.

The prophet, brooding over the disparity between the puny com-
monwealth of Judea and the vast geographical and numerical mass
of the Persian Empire, came to realize, with a passion which has
Israel as a Spiritual Force n
never again been equaled, the vast significance of complete dedica-
tion and the comparative insignificance of mere size. Man's place in
the world, he realized, depends not on whom he rules, but on whom
he serves. His philosophy was born out of a study of his own emo-
tions. He knew in his own heart that the Restoration of Israel was
destined to be historically more important than the rise of the Persian
Empire indeed, that in the chronicle of man and civilization, Cyrus

would be a footnote to Zerubbabel and not Zerubbabel a parenthesis
in the story of Cyrus.
There thus emerged the concept of Israel as itself a collective serv-
ant of God, seeing its fulfillment in the fulfillment of His will, de-
liberately courting smallness lest it be seduced by the temptations of

largeness, finding its vindication in history and not in the extent of its
territory. From the point of view of this idea, the pain and suffering
which Israel undergoes are merely in order to advance the divine
process. Its very enemies are the instruments through which it is
brought nearer to God and to the truth. Nor does it forgive them
(since forgiveness belongs to God), but rather understands them and

their role in the divine order of things.
Again, as in the case of Ezra, one is impressed less by the pro-

fundity of the prophet's insight, however astonishing, than by the
conviction it carried with those who followed his teachings and made
of a large part of Israel a spiritual kingdom of priests and a holy na-
tion.From the days of the prophet until those of Rabbi Israel Salanter
and the Chofetz Chayyim^ men have lived happily, and died se-
renely, because they saw not only themselves as individual servants
of God, but their people as one of His collective servants. The deeply
2
moving Ani Maamin of the Warsaw Ghetto reflects the intellectual
conviction, the deep faith and grandeur of the prophetic vision, trans-
mitted across twenty-five centuries and yet undimmed.
The power of this remarkable idea was not limited to Judaism.
Among the noblest conceptions of the Christian Church is that it is
1
[Rabbi Israel Meir Kaftan (1838? 1933), Talmudist and moralist. One of the
most important spiritual leaders of Polish Jewry, he is especially known for his teach-
ings on ethical conduct.]
2
[Literally, "I believe." These words, based on the thirteen articles of faith, became
the martyr's chant during the Hitler period.]
a servant of God. And when President Roosevelt called on America

to keep rendezvous with destiny, what was he saying other than
its
that this great people has been brought to its high estate and called to
its lofty position in order that it might better fulfill its mission of
service to God and to His children ?
In the prophetless third century B.C.E., the Jewish community, ap-
proaching a great cataclysm and a rebirth, experienced as a whole

an intellectual development reminiscent of Deutero-Isaiah's. Once
again there were vast empires, the fragments of the empire of Alex-
ander which had ruled the whole known world, and, on the other
hand, tiny, physically insignificant Israel. The hope that this tiny
commonwealth might achieve independence or autonomy might
give new confidence and emotional stability to the simple; but for the
thoughtful, it evoked the same doubts and questionings which had
troubled the prophet four hundred years before. The apocalyptic as-
surance that in a short time the world would be reduced to chaos, and
Israel would become a monarchy after the pattern of Persia and even
transcending it, fell on deaf ears so far as the intellectual leaders of

Hasideanism were concerned. This myth of the future carried no
more conviction to them than the idolatrous
myths regarding the past.
Yet it could not be that God had called man to the life of Torah so
that there should be eternal imperfection. The kingdom of God had
to be a reality, or the Torah, as a program to achieve it, became a
myth. Obviously, the demand that man live in terms of service to

God, formulated so effectively by Deutero-Isaiah, was a powerful one.
Yet the Hasidean, learned in pre-Rabbinic dialectic, arguing with
clear logic, trying to understand the nature of the world and to create
a philosophy of the universe as well as a rational moral life, could
not believe that all God wished was the fulfillment of His will, as
an Oriental despot might wish for the performance of his command.

If God gave man the Torah, it must be that the Torah is
good for
man. Yet it was clear, from the events of the centuries which had
preceded, that the people of Torah, whether as individuals or as a
group, would not enjoy many of the material or even cultural bene-
fits
falling to peoples who were foreign to it.
The science of the Greeks, their art, their poetry, their
philosophy,
were no less impressive than their martial glory. Intuitively, the hasid
knew commonwealth he was seeking to establish had a mean-
that the
ing which Athens could never have, because his commonwealth was
to be built on Torah. Inevitably, he was driven to the conclusion that
the life of Torah has
a value which transcends the world, not merely
as a service to God, but as a fulfillment of man. The apocalyptic
dream of a physical world empire with its capital in Jerusalem and its
emperor the Deity neither appealed to him nor seemed in the least
probable. But the view that man is essentially an angel disguised as a
mortal, that he is not body but spirit, that the world is a school where
any infant can attain his true status in the spiritual kingdom of God,
carried conviction. There thus was born the belief that death is a
delusion so far as the righteous are concerned. The possibility that
man is an immortal spirit was considered by Socrates and others be-
fore the time of the Hasideans, and has its ultimate roots in the pre-
historic conviction that every person partly an immortal shade. But
is
immortality as an ethical and democratic doctrine is peculiar to Hasi-

deanism and Pharisaism, and is itself the dialectical child of the para-
dox of a people devoted to the greatest of all causes and consigned to
the smallest of all lands.
The great doctrines which the earlier commonwealths of Israel
begot have not died, although they were opposed in their time. There
were those, in the days of Zerubbabel, who when they saw the Second
Temple were moved to tears rather than joy as they thought of its
when compared to that which it had replaced. There were
small size
Sadducees in the Maccabean state, and even some of its high priests
rejected the Pharisaic teaching. The later Hasmonean kings sought
refuge from the paradox of Israel's smallness, not in the Hasidean
philosophy, but in aggressive wars and in the effort to establish
an empire. The commonwealth, which was able to provide emotional
serenity and intellectual clarity to so many, also stirred some to
instability and confusion. While the Sadducees have disappeared,
Sadducism has by no means been extirpated.
It isthe great merit of the present government of Israel that it
has set face like a flint against neo-Sadducism, and seeks to achieve
its
the glory of the new Israel, not in space, but in spheres which
transcend both time and space. It is the more likely to succeed in this
enterprise if, like its magnificent predecessors, it can achieve the

formulation of an idea as powerful and significant in the affairs of
men as theirs were in their time. No such idea has thus far been
developed, either in Israel or elsewhere, in some twenty centuries.
Itmay seem arrogant to suggest that the State of Israel, recognizing
its and associating itself
severe limitations in the temporal world,
with Jewry in other lands, an idea, a concept
may yet beget such
so powerful that it may itself redeem mankind.
Yet the world need for such an idea can scarcely be questioned.
Never in many generations have men
been so utterly confused about
their own purposes and aims as they
are today. Never have nations
been so completely adrift, nor so unable to find an intellectual
rudder as today. Religions have lost their power to move multitudes
because they speak in symbols which are no longer understood.
Democracy is losing the battle of the mind in areas where it should
be triumphant. The Western states know that they have a pur-
great
pose beyond themselves, but are unable to articulate this purpose,
and in their stuttering are alienating those who should be their allies.
Is it a vain hope that the children of the Jewish tradition, living
partly amidst their brethren of other faiths in the Western democ-

racies and partly on the holy soil of Zion, will find some way to
formulate that which is implicit in the life of monotheistic religion,

of democracy, and of human dignity? Is it not possible, and even
probable, that precisely at this turn in human events so many of

us have been called to Zion because part of the clarification of Torah
in our day must come out of Zion ? Was it a mere dream that led so
many of us to expect that the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, on

Mount Scopus, would in fact be a world university, weaving the
vastly lengthened strands of human experience and knowledge into
a meaningful tapestry for our time reminiscent of Maimonides'
Guide for the Perplexed in his day, of the Pharisaic philosophy in its
day, and of Deutero-Isaiah's profundities in his? Freed at last from
the burdens of ghetto life and the fear of persecution, the Jewry of
the free lands on the one hand, and that of Israel on the other, can
think normally and creatively. Searching into the depths of their

own tradition, their own hearts, their own predilections, they may
yet find the Ariadne's thread that will lead mankind out of its
present
intellectual maze and chaos.
There is no individual mind today capable of understanding even
a single field of human experience, whether in scholarship or affairs,
and at the same time capable of mastering the technique of utilizing
that material for the deeper understanding of the phenomena of life
itself.The time has long past when a person could be both the
over-all architect of a philosophy of man and a scholar in some
special field relating to man; and in our present world we sacrifice
the architecture of philosophy to a concentration on the size, dignity,
and position of the furniture within the house.
Yet no one knows just what we ought to do to find a way out of
thisdilemma, which makes every one of us so learned in this field and,
at the same time, so utterly confused about human values. Various
suggestions have been made and implemented. There have been con-
ferences of men of different backgrounds. These have not in general
achieved the aim to which we aspire. There have been symposia, uni-
versity seminars, and interuniversity seminars, institutions like Co-
lumbia's American Assembly. Each effort has made some contribu-
tion; yet the goal remains far away.
For nowhere world has a people recognized that it needs a
in the
philosophy in order to live; and therefore nowhere in the world has

a people devoted as much energy to the discovery of such a philos-
ophy as it does to the advancement of special fields of knowledge or
enterprise. Nowherethe problem of developing philosophical in-

is
sights being approached as one which may take a whole generation,

and for which young men and women must be trained, free from the
burdens of teaching, administration, writing, or lecturing, except
insofar as these may contribute to their own future usefulness. No-
where do scholars of first rank foregather, not for a week, but for
months and years, to study from one another, rather than to teach.
Nowhere do men of affairs bring their wisdom to bear on the
interpretation of the human scene.
i6 Israel in the Modern World
Perhaps this is because nowhere is there a living, indigenous tradi-

tion going back to the Prophets, which makes an understanding of
the meaning of life the supreme end of the intellectual effort. Per-
haps the redemption which Zion brings to the dispersed and suffer-
ing of Israel is, as we had always assumed, only part of the pro-
founder redemption it has in store for mankind as a whole.
We at the Seminaryregard ourselves and American Jewry neither

as one of the foci of a great ellipse of Judaism nor the center of a
circle, with only mystic connections with a similar circle surrounding

Jerusalem. We
recognize that we stand on the periphery of Jewish
and if we are content with our position, it is only be-
inspiration;
cause we believe that the service we can render God, Torah, and
mankind from this stance is one to which we have been called and
which we cannot neglect. Yet always we turn to Zion not only in
prayer but also in the hope of instruction. We gladly assume the role
of amanuensis to our brethren who have been given the superior
privilege of serving God and studying Torah in the land in which
both were uniquely revealed. If the experiences we have garnered in
our efforts to weave the tapestry we have mentioned may prove of
use, they are at the disposal of our masters and teachers in Israel and
Zion. If we can labor with them toward a solution of the vast human
problem, that in itself will be a privilege.
As we turn the pages of Jewish history, some so luminous and
bright, others so dark and red with blood, we recognize that our
generation is writing a chapter which has a special fascination and
beauty. The approach has been stormy and turbulent, dismal and
sad beyond words, but the chapter itself is glorious, inspired, and
prophetic. It includes vast achievements now in the making both in
Israel and in America. The ways of God are difficult to discern; but
He has led us through a blustering wilderness, and none but the
blind can now fail to see looming ahead a Promised Age, an age
greater than any before it, an age of freedom for Israel and for all
mankind, of reconciliation and brotherhood, of service to God, and
love for all His an age in which the vision of the prophets
creatures,
will be realized, and in which, on a scale far broader than any of the
commentators on the passage could possibly have realized, there will
be fulfilled the promise of Isaiah (19:24) "On that day shall Israel
:
be the third with Egypt and Assyria, a blessing in the midst of the
earth; for that the Lord of hosts hath blessed him, saying: 'Blessed
be Egypt My people and Assyria the work of My hands, and Israel
"
Mine inheritance.'
THE SPIRIT OF THE NEW ISRAEL
DAVID BEN GURION
The rise of the State of Israel has had revolutionary political and
territorial results that are obvious to all, but it has at the same time
brought about a far-reaching spiritual and cultural change

which
may not yet be easily discernible, but which is bound to make its im-
of time.
press felt increasingly in the course
Many centuries of Dispersion and wandering failed to put an end
to the existence of the Jewish people and to its distinctive character,
but they succeeded in distorting its spirit. Dependence upon stran-
gers, whether friendly or hostile, robbed us of our freedom of thought

and consciously or unconsciously put the stamp of inner
spirit;
servitude upon us; narrowed our intellectual horizons. A
nation that
is enslaved and dependent upon the mercies of others can hardly see
itself and the world realistically and with complete lucidity.
With the birth of the state, a fundamental change has come about
in the way we see ourselves and the world and in the way the world
sees us. Our inner and outer nature is being fashioned anew. We are
drawing ever closer to the source and historic root of our nationhood
and to the spiritual legacy of the Biblical period. At the same time we
are increasingly becoming free citizens of the great world, more and
more integrated into the universal human heritage shared by all gen-
erations and all peoples.
The passing of time has affected us, as it affects all nations, and
no modern nation can or should be what it was a thousand or two
or three thousand years ago. The revival of Israel's independence
18
The Spirit of the New Israel 19
does not mean revival, in unaltered and unbending form, of our

past. On the contrary, Israel's face is turned to the future. But that
future is nourished by the sources of our national vitality and absorbs
into itself all the radiance of our past. For the past belongs to us, not
we to the past: the past lives in us, not we in the past.
It is usual for the
past to shed light upon the present and for
historic precedent to clarify the events of today. But there are times
when the present sheds light upon the past. The establishment of the
State of Israel is an outstanding instance of this.
The rise of the state has put an end, once and for all, to the debate
carried on for centuries, both by Jews and non-Jews, as to the nature
of the Jewish group after it had lost its national independence and
been scattered among the nations. Had we continued to be a people
or become simply a religious sect?
It has now become impossible to that we continued to be a
deny
people during the entire period of our exile. It is true, moreover,
that we were and are, and will be a unique people, a people sui
generis. We
preserved our distinctive character through the ages and
we will preserve it in the future. Yet when our ancestors divided the
world into two groups, Jews and Gentiles, they somewhat naively
exaggerated the similarity among all peoples but themselves. In all
probability, every people considers itself unique and rightly so. It

is only in the
degree, the extent, and the significance of their dis-
tinctiveness that peoples differ.
The unique nature of the Jewish people, its special spiritual gifts
and cultural, religious, and ethical creativity during the period be-
tween the flight from Egypt and the return from Babylon that is,
between Moses and Ezra constituted one of the decisive and most
significant chapters in the history of the human soul. Its impress is
felt to this day among a great part of mankind, and it is that which
made the people of Israel an eternal people.

Nor did Israel, after it had lost its political independence, lose the
uniqueness born of its special spiritual and ethical quality. But the
unique nature of Israel in exile differed from its unique nature when
it was in its own land. Exile affected Israel's character and position
spiritually and culturally as well as politically and geographically. It
narrowed the people's horizon and shackled its spirit. The well of its
creativity did not dry up, but waters were confined to the limits
its
of the ghetto.
Even when we lived on our own soil, the genius of the Jewish
people was one-sided and limited, though the spiritual legacy it gave
to humanity was rich and fruitful. We did not develop scientific or
philosophic studies, pictorial art or sculpture; we did not distinguish

ourselves in technology, government, or war, although we never re-
jected the values of this life in the other-worldly fashion of the Hindu
philosophers or the early Christians. Our spiritual and cultural world
was further narrowed by exile, and even our understanding of our
own past became distorted.
Rabbi Johanan ben Zakkai, who asked the Roman conqueror for
the boon of Yavneh and its wise men, may well have preserved
Israel's existence and fortified its spirit against the misfortunes and
sorrows it was to encounter during its prolonged wanderings. But

the greatest among the disciples of Rabbi Johanan ben Zakkai
Rabbi Akiba, son of Joseph, the outstanding figure in Judaism after
the second destruction was not satisfied merely with the existence
of Yavneh and its wise men, but aided Bar Kokba in the revolt in-
tended to restore Israel's political sovereignty and freedom. It was
only after the failure of that desperate and heroic attempt that the
Jews became "the people of the Book," endeavoring to make com-
mentaries on the Bible, and commentaries on those commentaries fill
the great gap left by the destruction of their sovereignty and of that
rounded, full life which is enjoyed only by an independent nation.
The Book that had come into being out of a historic background
of freedom, in a homeland related to the countries surrounding it,
could no longer be understood in its genuine and original sense by
the Jewish people.
The fate of the people was paralleled by the fate of the Book
that great and eternal Book which narrates with such marvelous
artistry the chronicles of a young and gifted nation's development,

inner struggles, spiritual strivings, conflicts with external forces and
influences; the Book that, in the mirror of the great prophets and
poets, reflects the nation's aspirations and vision; that gives all man-
kind true tidings of faith and morality whose luster will never be
dimmed; that encompasses books of wisdom, reflection, and spiritual
outpourings whose grandeur of expression and profundity of feeling
have rarely been equaled in world literature. That great Book, too,
was uprooted from the soil in which it had grown and, like its peo-
ple, was imprisoned in a material and spiritual ghetto.
The Song of Songs and majestic hymn
that powerfully phrased
to nature and love allegorical dialogue between Israel and
became an
the Holy One. King David, the most heroic warrior and conqueror
among the kings of Judea, was described by the writers of Talmudic

legend as a judge, concerned day and night with regulations regard-
ing the afterbirth and other irrelevant subjects. Not unlike the writers
of Aggada and Midrash, Philo of Alexandria, bred on the culture
and philosophy of Greece, composed legends in pure Greek that were
allegoric commentaries on Scripture of a nature that would have been
completely incomprehensible to the writers of the original text.
With the loss of its political freedom, the Jewish people became
subject everywhere and at all times to two authorities that of the
Jewish heritage and, on the other hand, that of the nation in whose
midst it lived. The spiritual and material conflicts growing out of
these dual pressures are the essence of Jewish history in exile, though
the conflict between the two authorities is not always equally acute.
There were periods in the Middle Ages, and there are countries in
modern times, in which neither the government nor the population
prevents the Jewish residents from living their lives as they wish and
developing their own values. But always, in all the lands of his exile,
a Jew who remains at all Jewish feels a cleavage in his spiritual and
physical life as the result of the Jewish and non-Jewish influences

upon him.
The Jewish influence, limited to a tiny spiritual domain, is derived
essentially from the past. The non-Jewish influence, far more com-
prehensive in scope, is derived from the present and looks toward
the future. Consciously or unconsciously, it affects every aspect of the
life of the Jew in exile: his status, his education, culture, occupation,
and daily habits. Inevitably, the Jew oscillates between ghetto and
assimilation, between scorn and self-effacement, between flight from
the world and flight from himself. Sometimes he withdraws com-
pletely into himself, his spiritual nourishment

limited to remnants of
the Jewish heritage. One must marvel at the vitality within the
Jewish people, which even in conditions like these continues to be
creative, and which continues to be detached, though its creation is
from the realities and needs of ever-changing life. Sometimes, on the
other hand, the Jew completely abandons his own humble nest and
knocks at the door of the other nation, seeking to be absorbed into
its culture. In the former case, he looks down upon the world and
consoles himself with a sense of superiority and with the confidence
that his suffering people will be recompensed in the life to come. In
the latter case, he deprecates himself completely, erases his own na-
ture, enters an area that is not his, and becomes another person. If
he succeeds, he becomes lost in the other culture; if he fails, he loses
everything.
As long as there are Jews in any country who do not wish, or are
not able, to be assimilated completely, but who do not wish, or are
not able, to return to a free Israel, the conflict between the two in-
fluences willgo on, as it has gone on throughout Jewish history in
the Dispersion. It is a conflict which has perverted the Jewish view
of the world and the world's view of the Jew.
Enemies of the Jew in every generation have attempted to prove
that Jews are different from, and worse than, all other peoples. If
there is anything good in them, it has been taken from others. These
denunciations did not start in the nineteenth century or even in the
Middle Ages: they began before the destruction of the Second Tem-
ple and can be found in Egyptian, Greek, and Roman literature that
is two thousand years old and more. Nor did Jewish
apologetics
begin with the Anti-Defamation League in America they flourished :
in the days of the Second Temple, in the Epistle of Aristeas, the
Jewish Sibylline Books, the writings of Philo and Josephus Flavius,

and other Jewish authors of the Hellenistic period. All of these, like
their successors, tried to demonstrate that everything good originates
in Judaism, while the wisdom of Greece is barren.
In exile we looked upon the world with fear and envy, scorn or
self-hatred, for, unlike the other peoples, we had no share in it. It is
questionable whether, burdened by an inferiority or, sometimes, a

superiority complex, we were able really to understand other nations.
At best, we imitated them respectfully or, in our inexperience, de-
nounced their behavior and their ways. They understood us even less
than we understood them, for we were exceptions to every rule of
international experience.
Now that we are once more an independent nation in our own
land, equal in rights to all other free peoples, we need no longer be
sensitive to anti-Jewish calumnies and we do not have to concern
ourselves with apologetics. As free men, we can and, indeed, we
must see ourselves, in the past and the present, as we are, with all
our faults and inadequacies and defects. Instead of exhibiting only
our good side to others, we will endeavor to develop our blessed
heritage and to inculcate in ourselves all the positive human quali-
ties; for we are part of humanity and nothing human is alien to us,
We will shape our lives and our culture in loyalty to the great light
of our past, participating to the fullest extent possible in the funda-
mental human values developed by the great thinkers and teachers o
our day.
Two parallel cultural concepts make clear the anomalous nature
of our cultural point of view in the lands of our exile. I refer to the
wisdom of Greece and what has come down to us as Wissenschajt des
Judentums. I do not wish to discuss here the significant differences in
the nature and talents of the two little peoples who played so great a
role in the world culture of wish rather to point out
their day, but I
the profound difference in the content and meaning of the two con-
cepts.
When we speak of the wisdom of Greece, we refer to the world-
encompassing thoughts of the great Greek philosophers the doc-

trines of Thales and his pupils on nature, the ideas of Heraclitus,
Pythagoras, and Parmenides on the cosmos and its development; the

medical teachings of Hippocrates; the Ideas of Plato and his dia-
logues on justice, courage, love, education, government; the writings
of Aristotle on logic, science, metaphysics, poetry, ethics; the books
of Theophrastus on plants and natural science, of Euclid, Archi-
medes, Aristarchus, and others on mathematics.
When in the countries of exile we speak of Jewish learning, we

mean something much more restricted than what is meant by the
wisdom of Greece: we mean research into Israel's past, religion,
literature, and its purely theological philosophy, concerned with the
Jewish faith. Until now, this Jewish learning has not dealt with the
greatest of Jewish philosophers, one of the most profound minds in
human history. Spinoza has been neglected by Jewish scholarship,
even though he concerned himself with the past and the problems of
Judaism, and three hundred years ago predicted the revival of the
Jewish State.
With the establishment of Israel, we are subject to only one au-
thority our own. This does not mean that we now erect barriers be-
tween ourselves and the outside world. On the contrary, only if we are
subject to our own authority can we become, through the freedom and
equality such a position confers, citizens of the world, in the spiritual
and cultural as well as the political and economic sense. We
could
not be citizens of the world when we were
step-subjects of other gov-
ernments or refugees without a country, in desperate need of Nansen
passports that made no distinction between peoples and countries.
We became citizens of the world by our being children of an in-
dependent motherland, equal to all others in the family of nations.
This new independence has restored to us our identity and our in-
ner unity, and has made our relationship to the world and to world
culture that of equals and partners.
Research and scholarship in the State of Israel must now embrace
the whole world the study of atoms and stars, plants and animals,
the hidden resources of the earth and the seas, winds and weather,
and all the mysteries of nature in the heavens above and the ground
below; the chronicles of man from the time he appeared on the scene
of life, his struggles, his achievements and his failures, his strife with
himself and his fellows, in private and in public, in all periods and
all lands. All these are the subjects with which scholars in Israel will
have to concern themselves. So, too, literature in Israel will have to

include not only books written originally in Hebrew and books in
other languages by Jews or about Judaism, but all the treasures of
the human spirit from antiquity to the present the ancient
writings
of Egypt, Babylon, China, India, Persia, Arabia, Greece, and Rome;

the heritage of the Middle Ages and modern times in the fields of
science, art, philosophy, religion, and poetry.
It is understood, of course, that a particularly important role in
Israel's culture must be played by scholarly research into the nature
of our land and our people. For many generations scholars of many
nations have painstakingly studied the archaeology of this country,
its
geological and topographical structure, its natural resources, water
and climate, sea and coast, flora and fauna, the historic changes
wrought in it by conquests and wars from the earliest times to our
day. The books in many languages regarding the Land of Israel out-
number those on any other land of equivalent size. But we shall not
be deprecating the great contributions made by Jewish and non-
Jewish scholars to our understanding of the past and the nature of
the Holy Land if we say that only since Israel's victory in its War of
Independence is there full

opportunity to study that part of the land
which is included in the State of Israel. Only when a nation is sov-
ereign in its
country, when it is compelled by the stark needs of its
existence to discover and utilize the country's every possibility, and is
equipped to do so by mastery of modern scientific knowledge and
technique only then will the secrets of the past concealed in mounds
and rocks and desert caves, and the natural resources hidden under-
ground and in the waters of the lakes and seas, be fully disclosed. For
thousands of years we read of our country in the Book of Deuteron-
omy that it is as "a land whose stones are iron and out of whose hills
thou mayest dig brass"; but it was not until the army of Israel won
possession of the Negev that its copper and iron mines were actually
discovered. We
are still at the very beginning of our explorations, but
we have already found rich deposits of phosphates and other minerals
not mentioned, so far as we know, in the Bible that best of guides
to the land, except, of course, for the land itself.
The study of our land is bound up inextricably with the

also
pioneering effort to settle and develop it. For research is an invalu-

able aid to the expansion of settlement, just as a man's intellectual
equipment is part and parcel of his economic, political, and social life.
Similarly, Jewish and non-Jewish scholars have been concerned
for many generations with the study of our people,

and particularly
of its spiritual and cultural life in its historic homeland. Knowingly
or unknowingly, non-Jewish scholars have often been affected by
specialattitudes and motives growing out of their own religious
convictions, while Jewish scholars, too, have not been entirely free
from influences and repressions very far from the detached spirit of
scientific investigation. Both among non-Jewish scholars and among
Jewish scholars who have not tasted the freedom of Jewish existence
in an independent Jewish state and are still subject to dual authority,
it is hard to find that utter freedom of thought, independence of
spirit, lack of prejudice and defensive or offensive intentions, with-

out which one cannot completely understand the decisive and basic
period in our history, the period between Moses and Ezra, when the
character of the eternal people was shaped and most of the immortal
writings in the Book of Books were composed. For two thousand

years endless commentaries were written on the Book of Joshua
valuable explanations that cleared up many a difficult passage. But
allthose commentaries, whether by Jewish or non-Jewish scholars,
grow pale when they are contrasted with the brilliant light shed on
Joshua's struggle by the battles fought in our modern War of In-
dependence.
Only as a free nation living in our own land can we read with a
truly discerning eye that Book of Books which was created in this
same land by our ancestors. Only a generation that has won inde-
pendence in its ancient home can understand the spirit of those
ancient predecessors who labored and fought and suffered and
thought and sang and loved and prophesied in this same land.
The no chains and no bounds. The spirit
search for truth suffers
of our people in exile was chained, and only with the revival of our
independence has it been freed from the internal and external re-
straints which narrowed, limited, and distorted its activities.
The mighty task of Israel's cultural development in its own land,
like the tasks of gathering together the exiled children of our people
and of building our country, cannot possibily be accomplished by the
small young state itself, depending completely upon its own re-
sources. Not only the absorption of immigration and the expansion of
agriculture and industry but also the fostering of the new wisdom of
Israel in both the narrow and broad senses of that term is incon-
ceivable without the faithful and constant participation of Jews

everywhere. The State of Israel is intended to serve not only those
Jews living in it but the whole Jewish people, including those who
do not expect ever to settle in it. Israel's freedom has given added
dignity to Jews even in those lands from which they do not intend
or desire to emigrate in large numbers. The victories of the army
of Israel and the achievements of our agricultural settlements and
our industry are shared by every Jew in the world, and the spirit of
independence and freedom within the State of Israel invigorates and
refreshes every Jewish soul everywhere.
However, we should not and we cannot forgo the help any Jewish
community anywhere, whether in the Old World or the New, can
give us. This is true in the material and political spheres, and all the
more so in the spiritual. Spiritual strength and greatness are not de-
pendent upon quantity: tradition has it that Moses, our teacher, out-
weighed his six hundred thousand followers. But there are times
when, at a certain stage, quantity is transformed into quality. Out-
side of Israel today there is no Jewish community which can equal
American Jewry in either material and political or educational and
spiritual capacity. Cooperation between Israel and America cannot
be confined only to the financial and political aspects of our work. It
must include partnership in pioneering halutziut and in culture:
physical and spiritual partnership between Israel and the best of
American Jewish youth and American Jewish scholars.
The Jewish people, reassembling itself for the third time in its
state, cannot rebuild the land, nor absorb the multitudes who have
returned to Zion, nor develop its culture without the greatest measure
of cooperation from all the Jews dispersed throughout the world and,
above all, from the Jews of America. We need scholars and scientists
and men of vision and specialists in every field of industry and
agriculture if we are to build that new wisdom of Israel on which
all our economic, military, and educational effort must be founded.
Even in the special field of research into Jewish history and the his-
tory of the land of Israel the field which in the lands of the Exile
we called Wissenschaft des Juden turns in its narrowest sense there

is room and need for cooperation between scholars in Israel and
scholars in the Dispersion, particularly America. We must establish a
working partnership between Israel's scholars and creative artists and

Jewish scholars and artists in the Dispersion, for only by such a joint
effort shall we be able to accomplish the vast cultural and educational
task history has imposed upon our generation.
PART II
WHAT HISTORY TEACHES

HISTORICAL FULFILLMENT
WILLIAM F. ALBRIGHT
one speaks of prophetic vision and historical fulfillment,

:sof a great many things, and I am certain the subject has
many interpretations. I am certain also that my statements

seem too religious to some, too irreligious to others, to some
32 What History Teaches
First, the Land. Palestine was little and poor. Greece

also was little
and poor, but Palestine was still poorer and smaller. Yet this land
became the home of Israel, the focus of Israelite aspirations in the
Diaspora, the point to which Israel always hoped to return, and,
finally, the reestablished home of the Israelite people.
not repeat such a long story. Nevertheless, I will mention a
I will
few of the factors involved. First is the position of Israel, situated

as it is in the midst of the cradle of a civilization, where sedentary
culture developed thousands of years before it emerged anywhere
else in the world. This is the world of the Bible, with its foci in
Egypt and Babylonia, and with Palestine at its heart.
Palestine has always challenged its settlers the climate is unpre-

dictable and rainfall can never be foreseen. It challenged Israel's
power of resistance to nature as well as her ability to resist the foes

which surrounded her: Israel had to sustain cycles of famine, as well
as every possible attack of nature from invasions of locusts to epi-
demics among animals and plants. The land itself was a challenge
because of its
rugged terrain.
And from this land which challenged the energy of its people,
there emerged a people of singular vitality; in spite of the fact that
this people had been to quote the Torah an 'ereb rab and asafsuf,
or as translated inadequately in the Authorized Version, "a mixed
multitude." We may paraphrase 'ereb rab and asafsuf as a hopeless
mixture of elements having no merit whatever in the eyes of any
people proud of its own alleged purity of race, a mob with a mixed
plebian background of nomads, slaves, and bandits. We are given, in
the Bible, a vivid picture of Moses' constant struggle with this peo-
ple, trying to hammer it into some sort of unified nation.

This people Israel, therefore, began with a poor land, and was it-
selfan ethnic mixture which may have been even greater than that
of our own nation. This mixture was unified as a nation, through the
course of three centuries in Palestine, by the attacks o its enemies.
It was later unified racially by
pure breeding. And most important
of all this mixture became a religious unity.
Israel's history begins with a great man. It has been popular in
recent decades to dismiss Moses as a reflection of the spirit of the
Israel Vision and Fulfilment 33
people (ruah ha-am) or as a figure which grew out of traditions

y
dealing with different persons and situations in the dawn o Israel's

history. But we can have no such phenomenon as Israel without a
great founder. It is impossible to imagine such a creation without a
Moses. Furthermore, it is impossible to imagine the monotheistic

faith of this people without a man to bring the Torah to it. Through
this early monotheism, which Moses was able to impress upon his
people, Israel became not only a nation but also a unified religious
congregation.
It has recently become popular to speak of ideas as though they
emerge mechanically from their environment, as though ideas in

themselves have little effect upon their environment. We are all
familiar with the tremendous success in certain circles not only of

Marxist determinism but also of the sociology of knowledge of Karl
Mannheim and his disciples. In recent years voices have been raised
against such sociological determinism. Our own American philos-
opher, Filmer Northrop, second to none in the fertility of thought,
has insisted on the power of ideas to mold civilizations and nations.
His book, Meeting of East and West, irritates a specialist on nearly
every page, but more than any other recent book has stimulated the
view that ideas do have the power to effect changes in the world.
From John Locke and his influence on Anglo-American civilization,
through Hegel's influence on Germany, to Marxist influence on
Communism, we can follow the victorious path of dominant ideas in
our own day.
Ideas do mold nations. An idea molded Israel. Yet this idea was
not merely monotheism. There had been monotheisms before. One
of them we know quite well the monotheism of Egypt in the cen-
tury immediately preceding Moses. Though poor as compared with

that of the Bible, it was nevertheless a monotheism. Israel, however,
had more than mere ethical had the conviction that
monotheism. It
a formal pact existed between the sole God and His

of the universe
people Israel. This berit, symbolized by the Ark of the Covenant

(aron ha-berit), was a treaty in which God promised to favor Israel
and to maintain an eternal pact with her if she obeyed His com-
mands, which included both cultic and ethical content. This idea of
a covenant dominates Hebrew religious history from the days of the

Patriarchs down through the Mosaic Age and into the time of the
Prophets, where the covenant is presupposed even where it is not

mentioned.
The Israelites believed in the eternal duration of the covenant
established between God and His people. God would support His
people as long His people supported Him. Moreover, the covenant
as
relationship involved the principle of he zed, "kindness, mercy, grace,"

and this hesed extended beyond the terms of the covenant. God
would show mercy as well as justice to His people, and His people
was expected not simply to abide by the letter of the law, but to go
beyond it and worship God with spiritual fervor.
The eighth century B.C.E. brought with it the Assyrian attacks on
the West, during which the native states of Syria and Palestine fell
one after another. Their countries were devastated and their peoples
taken into captivity in Mesopotamia and beyond. The Prophets,
from Hosea to Ezekiel, more and more clearly emphasized that
destruction was inevitable because God had made a solemn pact with
Israel, which Israel had repeatedly violated.
Nowhere in history have we anything comparable to the Prophets
of Israel as a class, albeit an extremely informal one, or as an in-
stitutionalized body. Year after year, generation after generation, and
century after century, the Prophets felt themselves called upon to

rebuke their kings, their nobles, their priests, and their people. From
Nathan, who publicly denounced King David, to Jeremiah and
Ezekiel, there was a continuous tradition often broken by false
prophets, but coming back into honor generation after generation.
There were always a few who insisted on telling the truth regardless
of unpopularity. The Prophets are our eternal heritage from Israel.
Between 750 and 700 B.C.E., and again between 620 and 580 B.C.E.,
they taught the inevitable destruction of Israel because of its re-
GodJ They also taught the restoration of Israel, fol-
bellion against
lowing an extremely ancient pattern of thought which we find in

history long before Israel. In Israel, however, this pattern became
extraordinarily important because the Prophets believed not only that
God would destroy Israel and restore it at a later time, but also that
Israel Vision and Fulfillment 35
the restoration would come as a result of divine grace or hesed, and
on condition of Israel's return to obedience.
Recent scholars have devoted a great deal of time, especially in
this country and England, trying to disprove the Biblical tradition of
the Exile and Restoration. They say that there was no thorough
destruction or complete devastation, that there was no real Exile, no
Babylonian Captivity, and, of course, no Restoration. There are

scholars who say that we cannot rely on the prophecies of Jeremiah
and Ezekiel, alleging that they are apocryphal. They reject the his-
torical content of Chronicles and Ezra, claiming that they are also
apocryphal.
And what is the reason for such a violent onslaught against the
historicity of precisely those parts of the Bible which were regarded

by the classical literary critics of the nineteenthcentury as being the
most reliable of all? The reason is very simple: it rests in the extreme
melioristic evolutionism of the Victorian Age and its aftermath,
which is even now dying very slowly among British and Americans.
This particularly true in our own country because we have not yet
is
really suffered from the crises of our age. Several years ago, I lec-
tured in California on the great crises in the history of Israel. In the
same on the very same day, a famous Protestant theologian
hall,
from NewYork insisted in his own lecture that there are no real
crises. I wonder whether there is a single Jewish heart which would
not reject this proposition? What could be more terrible than the
crisis which destroyed Central European Jewry, or the crises which
have since threatened to destroy Eastern European Jewry and Jewry

in Moslem lands! People who have passed through such crises are
not going to be impressed by the assertion that there are no crises,
that there was no real interruption in the life of Israel as a result of
the Captivity, that the of Judah were not destroyed or were at
cities
least all quickly rebuilt, that life went right on during the Exile much
as before, and that there was no Restoration.
course there was an Exile, a Captivity, and a Restoration. Year
Of
by year archaeologists make finds which have disproved the con-
tentions of these scholars even in detail. It is in fact the outstanding
example of complete refutation of historico-critical hypotheses by

archaeologists. Needless to say, a great many critical scholars ignore

the findings of archaeologists, a fact which is often the fault of the
who have not always published as promptly as they should,
latter,
and who have sometimes been overhasty in announcing results be-
fore they are verified.
We now come to the Hellenistic and Hellenistic-Roman ages, an-
other period in which Israel was repeatedly all but destroyed. And
yet we are told that there are no real crises!
Still more critical in some respects was the Second Jewish Revolt,
under Bar Kokba, between 130 and 135 C.E. We now have, thanks to
the recent discoveries in the Dead Sea Valley, a letter from Simeon
Bar Kokba himself as well as several other documents which vividly
illustrate the guerrilla nature of his revolt.
During those times there arose new prophets, not quite like the
Biblical prophets of the tenth to the fifth centuries, B.C.E., but dream-
ers and apocalypticists with visions of past and future history. They
were, in a way, among the first "philosophers" of history, philos-

ophers in a poetic sense, who saw history as though it were a pan-
orama which unfolded in successive scenes before them. Thanks to
the Dead Sea Scrolls we are beginning to realize just what was the
background in question; we now see how far astray most Christian
and Jewish scholars went in trying to reconstruct the spiritual life of
the period between 200 B.C.E. and the time of Bar Kokba. Thousands
upon thousands of Hebrew manuscripts and fragments from the
Dead Sea region are now bringing to light a whole forgotten world,
most of which could not be reconstructed because of lack of con-
temporary documents.
These dreamers kept the spiritual aspirations of Israel alive. They
expected a Messiah and a Messianic Age. Dr. Gershom Scholem's
authoritative survey of the history of the Messianic movement in
1
Jewry vividly shows that there has never been a period in which
there were not Messianicmovements in Israel. But more important
than these Messianic movements within Israel was Christian and
Moslem influence. Thanks to Christianity and Islam Judaism has
never been allowed to forget the Messianic Age promised by the
Prophets. This they did in two ways. First, and most important, the
1
[Major Trends in Jewish Mysticism.]
Israel Vision and Fulfillment 37
Christian and Moslem persecution forced the Jews to keep Judaism
alive if they were to maintain their national existence at all. Some-
times persecution became so violent that the Jews were all slaugh-
tered or entirely expelled from a given country.
We must remember that all through this period there were also-
Christian and Moslem rulers who invited the Jews to take refuge in
their countries, popes who supported the Jews and befriended them,
and ordinary Gentiles who helped them in every possible way.
There never was a time when there were not Christian friends of
Jews.
Second, we have a positive Christian effort that developed in the
nineteenth century, and since then has become very important. It is
the increased recognition by Christian writers and preachers, both
conservative and liberal, of the world role of Judaism, of the fact
that the existence and the continued prosperity of the Jewish people
are an index of the good will and the spiritual vitality of Christianity.
A large section of Christendom,mainly Protestant, has emphasized
the truth of Old Testament prophecy, even
if
very often from a
rather crude point of view. Unquestionably, Christian expectations of
the second coming of Christ have helped to keep alive Messianic
expectations in modern Jewry, both by direct and indirect influence.
The Zionist movement is, after all, historically a special form of
Messianic expectation.
Furthermore, with die development of modern scholarly research
on the Bible, there has developed a more intimate give and take be-
tween Jewish and Christian Today, these scholars meet in
scholars.
societies, in classrooms, in conferences, and in the pages of journals;

if one takes a given point of view about Jewish history one will gen-
erally find as large a proportion of Christians as of Jews holding that

view. One can no longer foretell the attitude of a scholar because he
happens to be a Catholic, a Protestant, or a Jew.
There are points, of course, where basic religious differences will
emerge, but they are surprisingly few. In forty years of classroom

experience, I in my presence in which specif-
remember no debate
ically dogmatic considerations played any role. It is, however, quite
true that behind the scenes there are sometimes battles-royal, echoes
of which occasionally reach me.
Both Jews and Christians have thus played a role in keeping alive
the hope of Restoration. And so Restoration came. It came with the
great founders of Zionism, with men like Eliezer Ben Yehuda, who
reestablished the Hebrew language as a living tongue in Israel, with
men like Chaim Weizmann and David Ben Gurion. Itcame with
men who are dreamers and scholars and doers, like Yitzhak Ben
Zvi, the head of the new Jewish State, and like the young archaeol-
ogist Yigael Yadin, son of my old friend Eleazer Sukenik, who has
not only begun a brilliant career as a scholar but also became one of
the greatest single military geniuses of the past decade. These men
have continued to dream. They have often without knowing it, be-
cause some were not religious and did not believe in prophecy
carried on the prophetic tradition of Israel, incorporating it into a
reality which has made nonsense of the predictions of every non-
prophetic soul, including myself. I never dreamed that there would
be an actual Jewish State in Israel, and I must often have asserted its
"impossibility." Yet Israel exists, and the vision has been fulfilled.
What is going to happen next? Are the words of the Prophets
merely archaic survivals of a naive age? Not at all. God will keep
His covenant with His people, if His people obey the Divine com-
mands. God is fulfilling the predictions made through His servants,
the Prophets, although some of those who have brought the dream of
Restoration to fulfillment would certainly not have been imagined
by the Tannaitic or Amoraic rabbis, or by the great orthodox teachers
of the Middle Ages. I am thinking particularly of a certain Viennese
2
journalist, or a certain Russian who began the studyof medicine only
to leave it for Zionism, 3 or a certain Manchester chemist, 4 also born
in Eastern Europe. I suspect that the Prophets themselves would
have been greatly surprised at some of their successors.
The change of emphasis does not, however, in any way invalidate
God's demand that His ancient people obey His words, which are
just as true today as they were in the days of Amos and Hosea, of
Jeremiah and Ezekiel.
2
[Thcodor Herzl, 1860-1904.]
8 Ben Yehuda, 1858-1922.]
[Eliezer
*
[Chaim Weizmann, 1874-1952.]
THE DEAD SEA MANUSCRIPT FINDS:
NEW LIGHT ON ERETZ YISRAEL
IN THE GRECO-ROMAN PERIOD
H. LOUIS GINSBERG
Those who follow the course of archaeological exploration in the

Holy Land are aware that very important work has been done in
recent years in Galilee, in the Coastal Plain, and in the Negeb; but
the most important of all has been done in the Wilderness of Judah.
In fact, the decade which began in the spring of the year 1947 may
come to be known in the history of archaeological discovery in the
Holy Land Decade of the Wilderness of Judah. The Wilder-

as the
ness of Judah is the narrow strip of land which slopes eastward from
the watershed of the Judaean hill country which at one point rises
to a height of 3370 feet above the surface of the Mediterranean Sea
down to the Dead Sea about 1275 feet below the surface of the
Mediterranean. In addition to sharp drops, it has very little rainfall.
Consequently it is, for the most part, a bleak, forbidding wasteland.

The northern end of this region forms part of the Kingdom of
Jordan, and it is in this area that the sensational manuscript finds of
recent years have taken place.
The sites at or near which manuscripts have come to light are
three in number: Khirbet Qumran, 1947-55; Wadi Murabba'at,
1951-52; Khirbet Mird, 1952-53. The last named is the ruin of an
ancient monastery and its manuscripts will not concern us in this
paper.
39
The manuscripts of both the other sites were found in caves; and
I shall here anticipate my conclusions to the extent of noting that
those in the Khirbet Qumran caves were abandoned in the year 68
C.E., during the First Jewish Revolt (against Rome), and those in the
Wadi Marabba'at caves at least the most important of them sixty-
five years later, in 134-35 C.E., during the Second Jewish Revolt.
At Khirbet Qumran, only one manuscript cave was known from
1947 through 1951, but five more were discovered in 1952, and another
four in 1955. At Wadi Murabba'at, the "literate" grottoes are two
in number.
I. Wadi Murabba'at
Wadi Murabba'at is a wild ravine, extremely difficult of access, in
the middle of the wilderness. Both its two "literate" and its two "il-
literate" grottoes were found to contain abundant anepigraphic relics
(relics without writing) of human occupation
over a period of over
four thousand years from the fourth millennium B.C.E. until well
into the Arab period. Even as the extreme dryness had preserved not
only pottery but also wooden utensils and cloth, so it had also pre-
served perishable writing materials such as papyrus and crude leather.
The period of most intensive human occupation had evidently been
the Roman one, which was represented by far more artifacts than any
of the others. These include coins of the first and second centuries
C.E. and writings in Hebrew, Aramaic, Greek, and Latin, some of
which mention persons and some actual dates of the second century
C.E. One very notable event of that century was the Second Jewish
Revolt against Rome, which lasted from 132 to 135. Its leader's
given name, Simeon, was formerly known to us only from coins
which he minted during the Revolt, while his surname was not
really known at all. It is, indeed, given as Ben Kozeba or Bar Kozeba,
"the son of the disappointer," in the Rabbinic literature, but as
Kocheba, "the star," or Bar Kocheba, "the son of the star," in the
early Christian sources. Scholars, however, have always realized that
these were mere nicknames, the Christian writings preserving an
earlier one from the time when the Jews pinned high hopes on this
The Dead Sea Manuscript Finds 41
leader, and the Rabbinic ones reflecting the disappointment o those

hopes. Now we know that his actual, official surname was Ben
Koseba. For at Wadi Murabba'at were found, preserved from the
time of the Second Revolt, the following items: (i) nine coins dating
from that period; (2) some Aramaic deeds dated in "the year 3 of
Israel's Freedom" (134 C.E.); (3) several fragmentary Hebrew docu-
ments dated by "the deliverance of Israel through Simeon ben
Koseba, Prince of Israel"; (4) two letters addressed by "Simeon ben
Koseba, Prince of Israel" to one "Jeshua ben Galgola and the men of
the fort"; and (5) another letter from a different quarter addressed to
the same "Jeshua ben Galgola, commander of the camp." It would
seem that this Jeshua was in command of a military guard which
Simeon kept stationed in this desert fastness; even as the presence of
a Latin text shows that the Romans maintained a guard there sub-
sequently, probably for the purpose of keeping a watch over one of

the roads leading to En-gedi, the largest oasis on the western shore of
the Dead Sea.
The Wadi Murabba'at grottoes have further yielded some frag-
ments of the Bible: parts of scrolls of Genesis, Exodus, Deuteronomy,
and Isaiah. (While this paper was being written, reports were re-
ceived of the recovery of a defective copy of the Minor Prophets.)
That they are so fragmentary is not an accident : one of the pieces of
scroll has a tear which runs across three columns. The war against
Ben Koseba, as we may now call him, was one of the bitterest the
Romans ever had to fight, and these particular grottoes in a wild
ravine in the midst of a desolate waste must have cost them heavy
losses. The pagan soldiers therefore tore the Torah scrollsand other
sacred writings wantonly to shreds. It is probably because of their
inconspicuousness that a couple of phylacteries survived intact.

We note here, for later evaluation, the following positive and
negative features of this lot of sacred writings: (i) the Biblical texts
(at least apart from the aforementioned unpublished
scroll of the
Minor Prophets) agree exactly, even to the spelling, with the Maso-
retic Text (our present Hebrew text) (2) the phylacteries contain
;
exactly the Pentateuch sections prescribed by the Rabbis; (3) no

apocryphal texts were found; (4) and of course there are no heretical
writings.
II. Khirbet Qumran
Very different, indeed, is the situation at Khirbet Qumran. The

manuscript material recovered here could fill a large room. Hundreds
of distinct manuscripts have already been identified. And here are
Bible manuscripts which diverge from the Masoretic Text strongly
in spelling and not infrequently in wording. Here at least one phy-
lactery is not what the Rabbis prescribe. (It contains the Decalogue.)
Here the Apocrypha are represented. And here there are other
religious writings, such as liturgies and regulations, which are not
merely non-Rabbinic but anti-Rabbinic. And all these manuscripts
date partly from the first century B.C.E. and partly from the first
century C.E. Here, first of all, are the proofs for this dating:
1. The first proof is the script of the dated Wadi Murabba'at manu-
scripts of the year 134 C.E. which I have just mentioned. By the side
of it, even the latest scripts of Khirbet Qumran look archaic.
2. The great bulk
of the inscribed material is crude leather, though
there one specimen of "parchment" (finely prepared skin). There
is
is also a little papyrus, and three sheets of copper. There is further an
ostracon (inscribed potsherd), which was not found in one of the

caves but in a nearby spot which I shall mention later. Great im-
portance attaches to the negative feature that in all this vast mass
there is not a single piece of paper.
3. And as to the form, the soft materials leather and papyrus

all constitute scrolls. Thus far there is no evidence for there having
been any codices bundles of leaves, like our modern books).
(i.e.
And there is mass not a single trace of vowel signs.
in all this
To be sure, some papyrus was still used in the Middle Ages, and
some scrolls are used even today, e.g., our sifre torah, megillot, tefil-
mezuzot, and diplomas. But a library of hundreds of books
lin t
which comprises only scrolls, cind no paper ones but (except for the
one item of "parchment") only crude leather or papyrus ones, is not
seriously conceivable after the third century C.E., if that late. And the
following further observations go to show that the manuscripts were
in fact stowed away in those caves as early as the first century ex.
4. The manuscripts of Cave i were wrapped in linen. The age of

the linen has been determined by a carbon-i4 test as
33 C.E., with a
margin of possible error of two centuries upward as well as down-
ward.
5. The manuscripts of Cave
i were stored in
jars. The jars are of
a type found nowhere else except in the neighboring caves (where
they were used for more prosaic purposes than the storage of books)
and Level II of the nearby site known as Khirbet Qumran. Ob-
viously, therefore, the manuscripts in question were placed in the
jars and cached in the cave not later than the time when the said level
of occupation of the nearby settlement was destroyed. And that date
can be fixed very exactly. The latest of the many coins which were
found in the stratum in question is of the year 2 of the First Jewish
Revolt, i.e. of the year 67-68 C.E.; and we know from Josephus that
Vespasian, the Roman general who was soon to be acclaimed
emperor, occupied Jericho in June of the year 68. Khirbet Qumran is
only eight miles south of Jericho and unlike Wadi Murabba'at it
can be reached with comparative ease. Moreover, Josephus actually
of Vespasian reaching the Dead Sea. Clearly, therefore, this was
tells
the occasionwhen the Romans captured and destroyed Level II of

Khirbet Qumran; and it must have been in the preceding weeks or
months, and in anticipation of Vespasian's coming, that the manu-
scripts were hidden away.
But the unusual jars are not the only objects recovered from Level
II of Khirbet that bear directly upon the problems of the
Qumran
manuscripts in the caves of the vicinity. The settlement consisted of
a single large public building of two stories. Now
the debris of the
upper story was found what may have been a washstand

to include
and also three tables and two inkwells, and there were benches
along its walls. This was evidently the scriptorium, the room in
which scribes sat and copied books for the community's use. (Close
to it was found a third inkwell.)
We note here also the following facts. The building had facilities
for cooking and for communal meals and/or deliberations. To the

east of it was a large cemetery of about eleven hundred graves, the
building and the cemetery occupying between them a sort of plateau

next to the cliff.A number of caves in the vicinity contained not
manuscripts but pottery and evidently served as dwellings, or as
storerooms for people who dwelt in tents close by. It is at least a
remarkable coincidence that a notable feature of Essene practice, as
described in our sources, was the communal repast; and that the
famous Roman naturalist, Pliny, who, by the way, accompanied
Vespasian on his Judaean campaign, describes the location of a colony
of Essenes by the Dead Sea in terms which fit Khirbet Qumran re-
markably well. The owners of the Khirbet Qumran scrolls are

shown by the content of some of the scrolls to have been certainly a
community of sectarians, and probably those sectarians were Essenes,
(Another significant feature are the pools for ritual immersions to
which the Essenes also attached much importance.)
It would be too good to be true if the entire library of this com-
munity had remained intact until the recent discoveries. Khirbet

Qumran is not inaccessible like Wadi Murabba'at; and although
Cave i is off the beaten track and up in a cliff, most of its original
contents were already gone when chance led that Bedouin into it in
the spring of 1947. There has long been known a letter of c. 800 C.E.
which mentions a discovery of Hebrew manuscripts in a cave in the
vicinity of Jericho, and Karaite and Moslem writers after 900 also
knew of sectarian writings which were discovered in a cave. From
the contents which these writers attribute to those ancient screeds, it
is almost certain that they
belonged to the same sect as the Khirbet
Qumran ones, and the cave in question may even be precisely our
Cave i. But in any case, the remainders which have been salvaged
from these grottoes in the last few years are epoch-making.
Here we have writings embodying the principles, regulations,
liturgy, and interpretations of Scripture of a vanished Jewish sect.
Here we have parts of the lost Hebrew and Aramaic originals of
those remarkable works known as the Apocrypha and the Pseud-
epigrapha and a number of similar works whose existence had pre-

viously not even been suspected. And here we have the remains of
an entire library of Hebrew Bible manuscripts which are centuries
older than any that were previously known.
III. The Khirbet Qumran Sect
Not the least thrilling of these finds are several fragments they
turned up in 1952 in Cave 4 of a work which had already been a
much-publicized enigma for a whole generation. Two medieval
manuscripts of it had been discovered by the late Solomon Schechter
in the "booty" which he had carried off from the famous Genizah of
*
Cairo to the Library of Cambridge University, England, in 1896,
and had been published by him in 1910, when he was President of
the Faculty of the Jewish Theological Seminary, as Documents of
Jewish Sectaries, Volume I: Fragments of a Zadokite Wor\,
Schechter's own
exceedingly learned and valuable introduction and
commentary were followed by a spate of studies in many lands and
in several languages. Outstanding among them was Ein unbefyannte
judische Sefye, by Schechter's colleague, the late Professor Louis

2
Ginzberg. Both Schechter and Ginzberg dated the "Zadokite Work'*
back to the time of the Second Jewish Commonwealth, or before
70 C.E.
Some Work" which struck these

of the features of the "Zadokite
two great and many others, are these: It is composed in a
scholars,
kind of Hebrew which until 1947 was not known from any other
writing, but which certainly could not definitely be proved to be
later than Tannaitic Hebrew. It insists upon a more rigorous in-
terpretation than Orthodox Judaism of some of the dietary and other

laws. It prescribes an organization into communes governed by
overseers, with strict laws for admission and expulsion. Interestingly
enough, it has unmistakable points of contact with certain ancient
1 A genizah is a repository for discarded writings in the Hebrew script. Such writ-
ings were not deliberately destroyed but merely left to decay of themselves, out of
reverence for the name of God which they might contain. The Jewish community of
Fostat, or Old Cairo, had such a repository attached to its synagogue. In the nineteenth
century, Jewish scholarship discovered that the materials which had been accumulated
in this way in the course of nearly a millennium were a veritable treasure.
2 Three
concluding chapters of this study have remained in manuscript to this day;
but it is gratifying to be able to report that there is a good prospect of the complete
work, including the unpublished chapters, being published quite soon in the English
language.
of Scripture not only (like

writings which are denied the standing
Tobit, Judith, and Ben Sira) by Jews and Protestants but also by
Catholics the foregoing and some others) and
(who do recognize
which, unlike those just mentioned, are incompatible with Rabbinic
Judaism. Thus, both the Book of Jubilees and First Enoch insist
upon a calendar with an even 52 weeks, or 364 days, to the year, and
with the first day of the first, fourth, seventh, and tenth months
constituting a special holiday. This last feature

no doubt implies that
the year was divided into exactly even quarters of 13 weeks, or 91
days, each; two months in each quarter having 30 days,

and the
third 31. Since communities with divergent calendars must treat
each other's festivals and solemn days as profane, the Book of
Jubilees, not unnaturally, specifically opposes the lunisolar calendar

which we employ. Now the "Zadokite Work" insists upon the
proper observance of the festivals and holy days in a way that leads
one to suspect that it may adhere to the Jubilees-First Enoch
calendar, and this suspicion is confirmed when one finds in it the
following features : it refers to the angels as "the watchers of heaven,"

just like First Enoch; it
employs for "evil" a term, mastema, which
ispeculiar to the Book of Jubilees; and it refers the reader, for a list
of the periods of Israel's "blindness" to the commandments of the
Torah, to a work which it calls the Book of the Division of Times,
but which must be identical with First Enoch, or with a section of it.
For only in First Enoch, Chapters 89-90, that the history of Israel
it is
is reviewed allegorically as the history of a flock of sheep which

alternatelygo blind and recover their sight (corresponding to the
periods of backsliding and repentance in the history of Israel).
As indicated above, fragments of this selfsame "Zadokite Work"
turned up at Khirbet Qumran in Cave 4 in the year 1952. But schol-
ars the world over had already been reminded of that remarkable
document by manuscripts of other works which were recovered from
Cave i in 1947. The scrolls which the Bedouin found there in that
year included one programmatic work (we call it the Manual of
Discipline) which is very similar in language, character, and con-
tent to the "Zadokite Work," and also a sort of midrash on the
Biblical book of Habakkuk, a scroll of thanksgiving songs, and a

hitherto unknown apocalypse, all closely related to the "Zadokite
Work" in language and spirit.
I mayhere digress for a moment to discuss the problem of how
copies of the "Zadokite Work" came to be copied out in medieval

hands and eventually to land in the Cairo Genizah, if this is one of
the sacred works of a sect which lived at Khirbet Qumran and
dispersed in 68 C.E. I have already mentioned that early Karaite and
Moslem authors knew
of sectarian writings which were discovered
in a cave.(From circumstance
this they named the sect in question
the Maghariyyah, or Cave Folk.) Evidently, some Karaites in Old
Cairo owned copies of the "Zadokite Work" which had been copied,
ultimately, from a manuscript of the Cave Folk. When the Karaites
discarded their copies because they were no longer usable, some
Rabbanite Jews came across them; and since according to a Rab-
banite law which was still
largely observed in our own time in the
Orient and Europe writings in the Hebrew script must
in Eastern
not be destroyed deliberately, they brought them to the Genizah of
their synagogue and deposited them there. This circumstance also ex-
plains the presence in the Genizah of the material which Schechter

published as Documents of Jewish Sectaries, Volume II: Fragments
of the Boo\ of the Commandments by Anan. This work, produced
by Anan ben David around 770 C.E., is the basis of Ananism, or
Proto-Karaism, out of which Karaism developed; and although
Karaism proper did not regard it as a final authority, Karaite schol-
ars had at least as much reason to study it as the books of the Cave
Folk.And since it was written in the Hebrew script, a Rabbanite
Jew who came across a fragment of it was as bound to convey it to
the Genizah just as he did the fragments of the "Zadokite Work."
But if in their own literary products these sectarians, as we have
seen, not only echo the terminology and ideology of the Book of
Jubilees, First Enoch, and kindred works, but cite them as author-
ities, they must have had copies of them in their libraries; and among
such considerable remains of one of their libraries, surely portions of
some of those copies ought to be present. They are. Portions of more
than one Hebrew manuscript of Jubilees and of both Hebrew and

Aramaic texts of First Enoch have been identified; and there are
other apocalypses of whose existence we had known.
Now this family o ancient works, though cited with respect in
early Christian literature, is denied the status of Scripture

even by the
Roman Catholic Church, and is often referred to today as the Pseud-
epigrapha (which means, etymologically, books falsely purporting
to have been authored by famous figures of the past). There are,
however, fourteen other items, ranging in size from a chapter to a
whole book, scattered through the Septuagint. The Septuagint, which

is the oldest Greek translation of the Hebrew Scriptures, is the work
of Jews and is the version which became the standard Old Testament
of Christianity. Consequently, down to the Protestant Reformation,
those fourteen items used to be included, scattered as in the Sep-
tuagint, in nearly every Christian Bible. Since then, Protestant Bibles

have either relegated this group of writings to a position between the
two Testaments (as in early printings of the Authorized English
Version) or omitted them altogether (as do the Revised English
Versions) Even Protestants, however, never describe these writings,
.
which include such familiar classics as the Books of Judith and Tobit,
the History of Susanna, the readable and instructive Wisdom of Ben
Sira (Ecclesiasticus), and the invaluable chronicle known as First
Maccabees, as Pseudepigrapha, but only as Apocrypha (hidden or
mysterious books); while Catholics merely describe them as "deu-
terocanonical," and insist that they are inspired Holy Writ. The
Rabbis, to be sure, could not accord them that standing because they
were composed some of them avowedly centuries later than the
prophecy of Malachi, which the Rabbis regard as the last inspired
writing. But since most of them were composed in Palestine in
Hebrew or Aramaic (as the specialist can easily see through the
extant Greek translations), and since their content is unexceptionable
(unlike the heretical Jubilees-Enoch group), the Rabbis' disapproval

of them even as edifying literature can only have been due to special
circumstances, into which we cannot enter here. In any case, those
considerations cannot have influenced people who had no compunc-
tion about not only studying but even invoking as authoritative such
disturbing books as Jubilees and First Enoch. Consequently, it would

have been surprising if none of "the fourteen writings" had turned
up at Khirbet Qumran. But as a matter of fact, both Hebrew and
Aramaic fragments of Tobit have already been announced. So here
we are able to put our finger upon a Jewish group in Palestine
at last
among which the Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha were cultivated.
IV. The State and Uses of the Bible in Greco-Roman Times
however, these people read the Apocrypha and the Pseude-

If,
pigrapha, and were so influenced by them that they even invoked

them we not expect to find even stronger
as authoritative, should
traces of the canonicalHebrew Scriptures in their own writings, and
a vastly greater number of copies of the canonical Scriptures in their
library ? We certainly should, and we are not disappointed.

First, as regards traces and influences of the Hebrew Scriptures
upon the sectarians' own compositions. As is well known, the Rabbis

of the Roman Age make little effort to imitate the language of the
Bible in the Mishna, Tosefta, Baraitot, and Midrashim, but employ
what is called Mishnaic or Talmudic Hebrew; by means of which
they achieve both precision, conciseness, and picturesqueness. Only

in the set prayers which they have prescribed in the sections which
precede and follow the Shema, and especially in the Amidah is

there an obvious attempt to "talk Biblically." And even then there
isno attempt to show off how many more or less apposite Biblical
phrases they could think of and combine, but rather a beauty of
simplicity and dignity. The sectarian Hebrew is much more "Bibli-
cal." Yet I do not think it is bias that makes me pronounce it notably
inferior to that of the Rabbis. Even the nonliturgical texts of these
people read like mosaics of Biblical phrases, with a good deal of pro-
lixity merely for the sake of accommodating
a greater number of
Biblical flourishes; while their liturgies carry this tendency to mon-
strous extremes, with the result that the thread of thought is some-
times lost in the mass of verbiage. At the same time, the post-Biblical
words with which they intersperse their compositions show that the
living Hebrew
of the time was actually very much like what the
Rabbis employed as a matter of course.
In other respects, however, the sectarians' use of the Bible is very
similar to that of the Rabbis. Thus the "Zadokite Work," about
which a good deal has been said above, bolsters its arguments with
quotations from the Bible which it interprets midrashically; and
this was indeed a surprise Cave i yielded, as we have seen, a prac-
tically complete midrash on the Book of Habakkuk and fragments

on Micah and Zephaniah, while Cave 4 yielded parts of one or more
midrashim on Isaiah. Three different caves seem to have yielded
parts of one or more commentaries on Psalms. Some scholars have
insisted that these are not midrashim but commentaries in our sense
of the word. The one, or ones, on Isaiah have not been published, but
the others, at any rate, are completely lacking in those things which
are the very stuff of Bible commentaries in our sense of the term,
and which are by no means entirely neglected even in our Rabbinic
Midrashim namely, grammatical, etymological, stylistic, and anti-
quarian notes and any number of exegetical puzzles are not even
tackled. Instead, every verse is interpreted in a completely arbitrary
manner as alluding to current history. The Book of Habakkuk, for
example, is remarkable enough according to its plain sense. A
prophet
here actually reproaches his God for remaining passive while the un-
godly nation of the Chaldeans is having the upper hand over other,
"innocent," nations (the prophet does not single out wrongs done to
his own, the Jewish, people), and then waits for and receives a reply
to his reproach. (That is the word he himself uses.) But according to
the sectarian exegete, all the prophet is concerned about is the wrong
which the Teacher of Righteousness, the founder or hero of his sect,
is destined to suffer half a millennium later at the hands of Has-
monean priest-princes, and his reproach is directed not to God but
to some human party which will be in a position to protest against
the maltreatment of the Teacher of Righteousness. As for the Chal-
deans, they are none other than the Romans, whose suzerainty over
Judea since 63 B.C.E. is represented as a punishment for the persecu-
tion of the Teacher of Righteousness and his companions.
Very similar applications of ancient oracles to their own times can

be cited from the Rabbis, but they are meant to be understood more
as jeux d'esprit than as insights into the actual intentions of the
ancient texts. Thus, although it is true that in the Hebrew text of
the oracle which announced to our mother Rebekah that "Two na-
tions are in thy womb" (Gen. 25:23), the word for "nations" is
spelled in such away that it could also be read
"magnates," no Jew
would be considered a heretic for doubting whether this was really
meant to allude to the compiler of the Mishna (who was of course
descended from Jacob) and to the emperor (supposedly descended
from Esau), whose friendship the former is said to have enjoyed. On
the other hand, it is well known that such "actualizations" of ancient
prophecy are basic to Christianity. It is natural to surmise that this

agreement between the Khirbet Qumran group and the early Chris-
dans in making every possible ancient text refer to their own age is
due to the fact that both the Khirbet Qumran sect and the early
Christians were persecuted and believed that they were living in
"the end of the days"; the former expecting the early rise of "a
Messiah from Aaron and Israel,'* and the latter awaiting an im-
minent Second Advent. For it is a fact that in an even earlier age,
when Judaism was subjected to such a persecution that its early dis-
appearance seemed inevitable barring an early miracle, it produced
just such "eschatological midrashim"; and these were embodied in
the Bible itself. The crisis to which I refer was the outlawing of
Judaism by Antiochus Epiphanes in the years 167-164 B.C.E. The
midrashim which discovered that this crisis, the dire end of Anti-
ochus, and the dawn of a new age had all been foretold in the ancient
Scriptures are embodied in the Book of Daniel. Here (Dan. 9) we
are told in so many words that the seventy years of subjection to
Babylon which were foretold by Jeremiah were not seventy years but
seventy hebdomads (weeks of years), or 490 years in all. In the course
of this period, Israel would experience many vicissitudes, which
would end in half a hebdomad (three and a half years) of proscrip-
tion of the Jewish religion and would be followed by the dawn
of a new age. I have shown elsewhere how a much more elaborate
3
3 Vetus Testamentum (1954), III, 400-404; Ensiqlopedia Miqrait, II, 949 .

midrash, which, among other things, turned the Assyria of Isaiah's

oracles into the Syria of the second century B.C.E. and the haughty
king of Assyria whom

Isaiah denounces into Antiochus Epiphanes,
has been incorporated in Daniel n. It is safe to say that, next to
Halakic Midrash, Eschatological Midrash, as exemplified by the
sectarian midrashim on Habakkuk and Micah and by the even
earlier midrash of Daniel n on Isaiah, is the oldest type of midrash
there is.
These sectarians, then, were steeped in the Bible; they imitated its
phraseology and meditated upon its meaning. In what form did they
read it? I have already remarked that no codices (books of leaves
like ours) were found at Khirbet Qumran, but only scrolls. It fol-
lows that these folk could not possibly possess any complete Bibles in
one volume. (We all know how bulky and heavy even the Penta-
teuch alone is in scroll form.) But they did possess copies of all of the
books in the Hebrew canon, with the probable exception of Esther;
for, to date, fragments have been found of every book except Esther.
It may well be that these people did not recognize either the Book
of Esther (a product of the Hasmonean Age) or the festival of Purim,
whose observance that book enjoins. It is also far from certain that
they observed Hanukkah, a festival instituted by the Hasmoneans;
whom they detested.
few of the Bible scrolls are in the Old
Interestingly enough, a
Hebrew which today must be familiar even to the layman
script,
from the reproductions of ancient Jewish coins on Israel postage
stamps. Even the legends on the coins of the Second Revolt (132-35
C.E.), minted by Simeon ben Koseba, are in the Old Hebrew script.
The Mishna does not permit the use of scrolls in this script for read-
ing from in the synagogue, but this prohibition itself doubtless re-
flects the existence of such scrolls among Jews in the Mishnaic period.
As well known, the Samaritans to this day use only this script.
is
Because of its venerable age, it was actually often regarded as more

sacred than our square Hebrew letters, so that some of the sectarian
documents which are otherwise executed in the square script use the
Old Hebrew script for writing the name of God. Similarly, in his
Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible, Aquila (a contemporary of
Simeon ben Koseba) neither translated nor even transcribed the

Tetragrammaton but copied it out in the Old Hebrew script.
There are many more things one can learn from these oldest Bible
manuscripts. For one thing, from the number of copies which these
people had of each book of the Bible, we can learn which were their
favorites. Outside the Pentateuch the most popular writing was
clearly the Boof^ of Isaiah. Khirbet Qumran yielded one complete

scroll of it,one defective one, a fragment of a third, and, as I have
noted, at least one midrash on Isaiah. In this the sectarians were by
no means unique. The only book outside the Pentateuch of which

remnants were found at Wadi Murabba'at were Isaiah and accord-
ing to the latest reports the Minor Prophets. I have already men-
tioned that Daniel n embodies a whole midrash on Isaiah. Readers
of the New Testament are familiar with two further instances of
the popularity of this work. There is the story (Luke 4:16-22) of
how Jesus went into the synagogue of Capernaum on a Sabbath,
stood up to read, and was handed a scroll of Isaiah which he opened
and in which he read and interpreted a passage; and there is the other
narrative (Acts 8:26 ff.) about the apostle Philip coming upon an
Ethiopian eunuch reading the prophet Isaiah and entering into a

discussion with him. The reason for this popularity is not far to seek.
Of the three major prophets, the Rabbis observe (with epigrammatic
oversimplification, to be sure) that Jeremiah is all calamity, Ezekiel
part calamity and part consolation, and Isaiah (especially what the
moderns call Second Isaiah) all consolation (Babylonian Talmud,
Baba Batra I4b). And, we may add, consolation in language of un-
forgettable beauty.
Another incidental lesson to be learned from the complete Isaiah
scroll is why just the beginnings of certain books in our Bible
Micah 1-2, Nahum i, Proverbs 10 (once the beginning of a new
book) exhibit many corruptions, while the remainders of those

books are in much better condition. In the firstfew columns of the
Isaiah scroll, we notice (i) that the ink has become faint, because
these columns had been more, and more often, exposed to daylight;
and (2) that the bottoms have become ragged, with some pieces of
text actually missing, because this end was most handled and pulled.
(The scrolls had no sticks to roll on, and hence no handles to roll
with.)
But people are most interested to know what light these texts shed
upon higher, or literary, criticism and upon lower, or textual, criti-
cism. Upon higher criticism, they shed no light at all. The complete
Isaiah scroll, which is nearly the oldest manuscript of the lot, does
not date from much before 100 B.C.E., and no one who deserves to be
taken seriously imagines that anything was added to the Book of
Isaiah after that date. But for lower criticism these texts are very im-
portant, for some of them agree with our Masoretic Text almost to
the letter (so the first of the incomplete Isaiah scrolls), while others
(notably the complete Isaiah scroll) diverge notably in spelling and

grammar, and not infrequently in wording. The divergences in spell-
ing and grammar, incidentally, are nearly always in the direction of
later usage just as in the Samaritan Pentateuch and in unscholarly
manuscripts of the classics.
the wording of the cave Bible scrolls that interests us in par-

It is
ticular, and it is very interesting to find that it frequently agrees

with the Septuagint, and at other times disagrees with both the
Masoretic Text and the Septuagint. There was a time when people
used to conclude too rashly that the Septuagint presupposed a dif-
ferent reading from the Masoretic Text; but later it was realized that
itwas necessary to ask oneself whether a person who translated into
Greek would not, after all, have been likely to write what we find in
the Septuagint if his Hebrew original had read exactly like our
Masoretic Text. It was pointed out that the different structure and
genius of the Greek language would practically have necessitated it
in many cases, and also that it was necessary to observe the habits and
technique of each translator (e.g., whether he is literal or free) and

consider whether such habits and such techniques were not likely
to lead from our Masoretic Text to what the Septuagint has. But
this reaction led to the opposite extreme. scholars insisted
Many upon
treating even considerable and inexplicable divergences in the Sep-
tuagint from the strict sense of our Hebrew text as mere free transla-
tions. Now, we have Hebrew texts, notably from the Book
however,
of Samuel (for in Hebrew it was always treated as a single book until
The Dead Sea Manuscript Pinds 55
modern times), which constitute what one may call a different re-
cension from that of the Masoretic Text, and very often where they
diverge from the Masoretic Text they agree with the Septuagint.
Henceforth, when we see a Septuagint text that may reflect a dif-
ferent Hebrew text from ours, we shall be more cautious than in the
past about deciding either way.

The following, at any rate, is one example of a case where the
Septuagint rendering does reflect a divergent Hebrew reading, where
that divergent Hebrew reading has now turned up in a Khirbet
Qumran scroll, and where definitely superior, in
it is
opinion, to my
that of the received, or Masoretic, text. In Deuteronomy 29:1 we are
told that Moses summoned all of Israel and addressed a final exhorta-
tion to them. This exhortation runs through Chapters 29 and 30.
Following it, in the received text, is this (Deut. 31 :i-2) "Now, :
when Moses had gone and spoken \wyl\ msh wydbr] these words
to all of Israel, he said to them ."
Obviously more correct, how-
, .
ever, isthe reading of a Khirbet Qumran scroll, which is also that

which the Septuagint translator had before him : "Now, when Moses
had finished speaking [wy\l msh Idbr} these words to all of Israel,
he said to them ." For since Moses had summoned the Israelites
. .
to him, he had not gone to them.
V. The Masoretic Text and Its Rivals

in Orthodox Judaism
In most cases where the Khirbet Qumran Bible texts diverge from
ours, their readings are inferior to ours. In some, they are decidedly
superior. But what I am
concerned with here is merely the fact of
sometimes considerable divergences both from our text and
their
among themselves. This relative fluidity of text is just what we find

and is presupposed by Rabbinic
in ancient manuscripts of the classics,
and Rabbinic tradition. For the very rule that a scroll
legislation
which does not conform to the standard text must not be read from
in the synagogue presupposes divergent texts in circulation for
private study; and the remarkable variants which are reported from
Rabbi Meir's copies (middle of the second century ex.) show that
when he copied for his own private study or that of his customers,
he did not bother to adhere to the standard text o the Rabbis. (On
all this and more, see Professor Saul Lieberman, Hellenism in Jewish
Palestine, Chapter L) It is therefore by no means unlikely that if the
Biblical remains recovered from Wadi Murabba'at were not so
scanty, they would not be found to accord so perfectly with the

Masoretic Text.
There is a famous tradition in the Rabbinic sources (Sifre II, 356,
and parallels) about how three scrolls in the Temple forecourt were
compared and the reading of the majority adopted as standard
wherever two scrolls agreed against one. This tradition shows that
the Jewish authorities, like the Greek philologians, realized that all
readings were not equally good, and set out to recover the original
text by adopting the reading of a majority of superior manuscripts.
The result is our Masoretic Text; which is superior to all its rivals on
the whole, but certainly can be corrected as we have just seen by
the readings of one or another of them in a number of passages.
Eventually this standard text superseded all others even for private
study, but there still survive traces of the time when it had not yet
won out even in the most official religious circles. The instances of
non-Masoretic Bible readings which occur in the Babylonian Talmud
are listed in Rabbi Akiba Eger's scholion on TB Shabbat 55b, but
the most notable one in Rabbinic literature occurs in the Passover
Haggadah. One of the passages in the Torah upon which the Rab-
binic requirement that the Haggadah be recited is based, comprises
two verses which in our Standard (Masoretic) Text read as follows
: "When
(Deut. 6:20-21) your son asks you in time to come saying,
What mean the testimonies, the statutes, and the ordinances which
the Lord our God has commanded you? You shall say to your
son, We
were bondmen unto Pharaoh in Egypt, but the Lord took
us out of Egypt with a mighty hand!' The Septuagint, however,
reads not "which the Lord our God has commanded you" but
"which the Lord our God has commanded us" and not "out of
Egypt" but "out of there" and not simply "with a mighty hand" but
"with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm" Incredible as it may
sound, our Haggadah agrees in every one of these respects with the
Septuagint. Modern Occidental Haggadahs, to be sure, have cor-

rected the son's question into "commanded you' so as to make it
agree with the Masoretic Text, but early and Oriental Haggadahs
still have the
Septuagint reading ("commanded us") even here, and
all Haggadahs have retained the Septuagint version of the father's
reply. In these two verses, therefore, the Rabbis obviously had before
them the same Hebrew text as the Septuagint translator.
In the daily liturgy, on the other hand, the Rabbis have followed, at
least at one point, a reading which disagrees both with that of the
Masoretic Text and with that of the Septuagint, but agrees with that
of the Isaiah cave scroll. The Amidah with which we are all familiar
includes the sentence, "And may our eyes behold how Thou re-
turnest unto Zion in mercy." The old Palestinian Amidah lacked this
4
sentence. But the Rabbis who introduced it whether Palestinian or
Babylonian must have been inspired by a non-Masoretic text of
that grand Book of Consolation, Isaiah. (As was noted above, the
Rabbis strove to "talk Biblically" in the prayers they composed, and
Isaiah was everybody's favorite comforter.) To be sure, the main
clause, "And may our eyes behold," was inspired by the Masoretic
Text of Isaiah 33.*i7a, "Thine eyes shall behold a king in his beauty,"
and not by the divergent reading which is common to the Septuagint
and the cave scroll. The rest of the sentence in the Amidah, however,
can only derive from the cave scroll text of Isaiah 52:8b. For the
Masoretic Text has here merely "Yea, eye to eye they shall see how
the Lord returns unto Zion," without the addition "in mercy." The
Septuagint, on the other hand, has the mercy without the returning,
since it substitutes "take pity on" for "returns unto." Only in the
Cave Scroll do we find precisely what is presupposed by the wording
of the Amidah :
"Yea, eye to eye they shall see how the Lord returns
unto Zion in mercy"
4 See L. Review (New XVI, 1-43; 127-70.
Finkelstein, Jewish Quarterly Series),
3
SECOND AND THIRD COMMONWEALTH:
PARALLELS AND DIFFERENCES
SALO W. BARON
When Israelembarked on its new career, we in America Jews

and non-Jews wondered about its future. Time and again it was
suggested that this experience was wholly unprecedented. In some
respects, it is unprecedented, even though comparisons can be drawn
with the previous experience of the Jewish people when it had a
homeland and a state of its own, particularly during the Second
Commonwealth.
To be sure, history is studied by some people for its own sake, for
the knowledge conveys, for the understanding it gives to a phe-
it
nomenon in Trying to explain things is as natural as trying to

life.
do things. However, in addition to the objective study of history

per se, tora li-shema, there have often been people, especially in our
own pragmatic who have asked, "What can history teach us for
era,
our own generation?" "What can we learn from the experience of
the past for our conduct today?"
This is not new. The Romans spoke of historia magistra vita of
history as the teacher of life. The ancient historians of the Bible did
not write the story of Saul or Samuel or David or Solomon simply for
the sake of recording history. They wanted to convey a lesson. Thu-
cydides, in a secular story, his history of the Peloponnesian War, tried
to convey many lessons, lessons which were so effective that a great
statesman of the rank of Lord Chatham actually recommended the
18
Second and Third Commonwealth 59
study of Thucydides' History to his son as the best manual for states-
men.
Can, therefore, the six centuries of Jewish experience during the
Second Commonwealth shed light upon what is developing in Israel
today ?
One contrast stands out clearly for most of its existence the Second
:
Commonwealth was not a sovereign country. With the exception of

some three quarters of a century between Simon the Maccabean and
Pompey's invasion of Palestine, roughly 140 to 63 B.C.E., that com-

monwealth was part and parcel of some large empire the Persian,
the Ptolemaic, or the Seleucid, and later the Roman Empire. The
present State of Israel is sovereign.

This fact has been noted many times in the past. Perhaps Hai Gaon
had that in mind when he wrote, "Whom have You exiled and not
1
redeemed, while for us it is That passage is not
our second exile."
easily understood, and Hayyim Brody, the had a different

editor,
interpretation. But the Gaon may well have meant to say that the
Babylonian Exile had never ended in a geula, in a complete redemp-
tion, because the Jews had still been subject to other masters for most
of the time. Hence, the Exile really continued until the poet's day in
the eleventh century and beyond.
However, this difference is not as far-reaching as it appears. In
ancient times, sovereignty did not mean as much as it means in the
modern world. In fact, one of the great difficulties in all international
relations during recent generations has been our excessive emphasis
on the doctrine of national sovereignty. In ancient times, in the
Middle Ages, and even in the early modern period, there always
existed a superior moral order which stood above the state, above the
ruler. Whether under the Assyrian religion, or that of Egypt, and, of
course, still more under Christianity or Islam, the king was under the
law, under a superior law divine. If he broke the law, he was ac-
countable in some way before the conscience of his people and its
religious leaders.
It is only in the last two or three centuries that the doctrine of
1 in Ycdiot ha-Makon Ic-Heqer ha-Shira
Quoted ha-lbritt ed. Hayyim Brody (1936)*
m, 12.
supreme national sovereignty has become a popular fetish. In its
extreme form, this doctrine has led to the totalitarian state, even to
the definite deification of the state, as in Nazism or Fascism, and, in
some respects, Communism, where the state has become its own
master, and the ultimate source of truth or falsehood, right or wrong.
On the other hand, it is really in the twentieth century that this
concept has begun to lose its importance. In the Second World War
itwas shown that the small state, however sovereign it may be in
theory, is dependent in
fact. A
great empire like the Dutch Empire
went down in defeat in four days; a great country like Denmark,
with centuries of history behind it, a powerful new state like Czech-
oslovakia, surrendered without even attempting to resist.
is no
In other words, the small state is no longer sovereign. Israel
more sovereign than any other of the small states. The "trappings"
of sovereignty I remember how frequently Chaim Weizmann used
that word are not essential; the real problem of sovereignty is
ultimate independence. Is Israel today ultimately independent? Are
not we all now, particularly in this great world crisis, in the conflict
between East and West, dependent upon what is happening between
the great powers ? And is not, for example, the decision of the Soviet
Union first to sever and then to resume diplomatic relations with
2
Israel pushing the latter more and more into the Western camp,
even if Israel should be reluctant to move in that direction ?
The Second Commonwealth, too, depended on the decisions made
by the great powers of its day. Before the second fall of Jerusalem,
for example, the leaders of the Jewish uprising hoped that Parthia,
the great enemy of Rome, would intervene in their favor. Their
hopes proved unavailing, however, because Vologeses at that time

had made a treaty with Rome, his country's hereditary enemy, and
failed to intervene. The result, naturally, was the defeat of the small
Jewish army.
Weshould not, therefore, attach too much importance to the
trappings of sovereignty. In the ultimate sense, the fate of Israel will
be decided not only in Israel but also on the world scene. The fate
of Denmark or Holland, or any other small state, will likewise be
2
[In February and July of 1953.]
decided both in its own country and on the world scene which now
means principally in the conflict between the giants, the United States
and the Soviet Union.
This leads me to a consideration of another factor, frequently
emphasized, especially by the Arabs. From the strategic point of

view, the present area of Israel is a geographic anomaly. glance at A
the map reveals that its boundaries, indeed, seem untenable. The
Gaza strip protrudes into Israel from Egypt. Tulkharem and its
triangle are very close to the Mediterranean, threatening to cut in

half the long, drawn out strip along the coast. Strategically, econom-
ically, even one would say, these are untenable frontiers.

politically,
For Arabs claim that sooner or later this means a
this reason the
"second round." They believe, or at least try to make the world be-
lieve, that Israel will have to expand and attempt to take over the
rest of Palestine, so as to make its frontiers more defendable and at
the same time economically more reasonable.
Can the Second Commonwealth tell us something about this ? We
recall from
history that during four of the six centuries of the Second
Commonwealth the Jewish homeland was limited to a small area
in and around Jerusalem, A tiny area, a few miles north and south
of the city, it was less than 12,000 square miles in all. Jerusalem, more-
over, was altogether a man-made center. It was located neither on the

seashore nor on the banks of a great river, nor even on a major
artery of land communication, like any other capital or metropolis
such as New
York or London. Like Washington, it was artificially
created. Ever since David had selected it for his seat, it had been the
Jews' main and their Holy City; and despite all the adverse
center
geographic factors and natural conditions, it has remained the Holy

City, not only for the Jews, but for hundreds of millions of Christians
and Moslems as well.
In other words, the Second Commonwealth, too, had no natural,
but a man-made, frontier. And if there was, perhaps, a semiconscious
drive to the sea inherent in the Maccabean revolt, that drive was
stymied by Pompey. The Greek cities along the coast, as well as the
Decapolis in the east, were free from Jewish sovereignty. Most Jews
living in the interior were excluded from seafaring commerce. In
fact, Josephus made the point that, living away from the sea, they
were not a seafaring or a commercial nation and hence not so well
known to the Greek world. Nevertheless, that commonwealth per-
sisted for six centuries in defiance of geography, and would have
persisted much longer had it not been for other entirely independent
developments.
Similarly, today's so-called untenable frontiers are not necessarily
short-lived. They can last for an indefinite future, because Palestine
never was in fact a geographic entity. Scholars have detected forty
different "natural" regions in the small area of western Palestine.
And reminds us, Palestine alone, or even together with
as history
Syria, hardly ever constituted a single state. Both areas had belonged
to Thutmose III of Egypt; they had belonged to Babylonia or to the
Assyrian Empire; they had belonged to the Persian, the Roman, the
Byzantine, and to various Moslem empires. They had never been a
unit, never a kingdom by themselves, with the major exception of
the Jewish regimes. It was this area out of which the Jews con-
structed their kingdoms in ancient times, out of which they con-
structed a Second Commonwealth, one which endured for six cen-
turies.
The new commonwealth, the Third Commonwealth, is also a

man-made and history-made area. It has again been formed in
defiance of nature and geography. Hence, all the normal assumptions
regarding the possible defense of an area, or its possible endurance

on the world scene, do not hold true for this particular country.
How did this country come into being? Once more we note a re-
markable exception, a unique evolution perhaps in the history of
mankind. I remember that twenty or twenty-five years ago, when a
discussion as to the practicality of the Zionist movement was very
much alive, opponents often asked, "How can the Zionists hope to
colonize Palestine? Has anything ever happened before? All
like it
colonization in history has been carried out by a country, a mother
country which sent out colonists, a mother country with a fleet or a

navy, with the taxing powers of a treasury, with military might." In
other words, there was something behind every colonization effort
helping the pioneers to maintain themselves whether it was in the

settlement of the British colonies, here in America, or the Dutch,

French, Spanish, or Portuguese colonies. All were backed by some
mother country. "Can anyone hope," anti-Zionists asked, therefore,
"for the Jewish people, which has no mother country, to colonize
Palestine?" I recall that even in those years I used to answer this
query in the affirmative, and to point out that the Jewish people had
shown before that it could be done. Exiles from Egypt had founded
the First Commonwealth. Certainly the Second Commonwealth was
built by Babylonian Jewry, by the manpower, the economic con-
tributions, the political connections of the Babylonian Jewish com-

munities. What was possible in the past was also possible in the
present. In 1948, this possibility did indeed become a fact: the Dia-
spora, for the third time in history, has built a state. Inverting the
general role of colonization, the Diaspora built itself a homeland,
built itself its own mother
country.
In my study of the Second Commonwealth, I have tried very
strongly to stress the point that one of the great misfortunes of the
Jewish people at that time was that the Diaspora abdicated its leader-
3
ship completely to the state it had created. During one century,
from Zerubbabel to Nehemiah, Babylonian Jewry stood behind the
Palestinian effort Ultimately, it was Nehemiah himself, a Persian
governor, and Ezra the scribe, an official of the Persian chancery,

who came to Palestine to settle matters. For a century the Diaspora
continued building the commonwealth, but afterward it resigned
itself to a position of secondary importance. There was, however,
one exception Egypt. Egypt was the only country in which the
Jews, during the Second Commonwealth, insisted upon their own
Jewish culture, their own Jewish community organization and
religious development. They went so far as to erect their own tem-
ple, the Temple of Leontopolis. The Jewish community of Egypt

had its own
holy days, like the Purim of Pharos, which it celebrated
year after year because of its own "miraculous" redemption, its own
historic development.
The position of the rest of the Diaspora, while having tremendous
positive importance culturally and religiously, had also adverse c-
8 A Social and Rehgious History of the Jews (2nd ed., 1952), I, 247-49.
fects, particularly politically, because and this is very significant-

under Roman dominationthere developed a basic difference between
the interests of the Dispersion and those of Palestine. In the Dis-
persion, in Syria, Asia Minor, Rome, and elsewhere, Jews often had
conflicts with the local population. Their main protector at those
times was the Roman Empire. Rome stood behind the Jews in
Ephesus or Corinth, in Athens, or even in Alexandria. In fact, the

Alexandrian anti-Jewish riots were to a certain extent anti-Roman.
Jew-baiters often tried to strike through the Jew at Roman domina-
tion. The Roman Empire divided in order to rule, and its aim in
protecting the Jewish minority against the local majorities in the

various provinces was to control those majorities themselves. The
same empire, however, when it came to Palestine, turned against the
Jewish majority there and protected the Greeks, even the Samaritans
any minority.
It can therefore be easily understood why, when it came to the
final revolt, the Jews were found divided. In 66-70 C.E., Palestine was
bleeding severely while the Jews of Egypt and the other countries
kept quiet. When, more than four decades later, Egyptian Jewry
rose up against Trajan, Palestine was not ready. In the Palestinian
revolt against Hadrian, the exhausted Diaspora again remained
quiescent. There was no unity simply because there was no con-

sideration of the interests of the Dispersion on the one hand, and of
cooperation between the Dispersion and Israel on the other.

I believe that this situation can be taken as a serious warning for
our day. There has been much discussion about the possibility of a
chasm opening up between Israel and the Diaspora. Even before the
State of Israel arose, I personally had a very saddening experience
when I spent three hours in 1946 with the faculty and student body
of a Teachers Institute in Palestine. I already noticed at that time
that there were some young people not the older men who felt
that the interests of Israel were paramount, and that the Jews of
the Dispersion did not really matter, since sooner or later, in a few
generations, theywould disappear anyway. I believe this is not the

majority opinion in Israel, even among the sabras, 4 but there is a
4
[Native-born Israelis.]
substantial wing of Jews in Israel who are calloused toward the

Diaspora and who have been taught by the old ideologists to negate
it.
This lesson, too, we mustfrom the experience of the past. If

learn
we want contemporary Jewish life, we must build it in a
to build
qualitative way, a cooperative way, between the Diaspora and Israel.

We can go even further and say that the need today is even greater
than it was in ancient times. In antiquity practically all Jews, with
the exception of Babylonian Jewry, were united within the Roman
Empire. Today Jews are dispersed among many nations. And what
is more, we are living in an
"Emancipation Era," an era unprec-
edented in Jewish history. The solution given from the Babylonian
Exile down to modern times has always been that the Jews would
permanently remain a minority facing various majorities. Today, if

emancipation means anything at all, it means incorporation of the
Jews into these majorities. In the past, Jews were first and foremost
members of a minority group, from time to time adjusting them-
selves to the majority cultures among which they lived. Today they
are members of these cultures; they are Americans and Jews, Eng-
lishmen and Jews, Frenchmen and Jews, etc. This is true in every
country where there is emancipation, whether it be in the United
States or Switzerland or Mexico, or any other land where the Jews
enjoy fairly complete freedom.
There is, therefore, a real danger, which did not exist in ancient
times, that the Jewish people might possibly break asunder into na-
tional bodies, into Swiss and French Jews, Italian Jews, and Amer-
ican or Canadian Jews, each one developing its own individual
institutions and cherishing its own point of view. Certainly, the dif-
ference between an American Jew or a Soviet Jew in whatever
form Judaism is going to survive, and I am not one of those who
believe that in the next generation or two there will be no Jews left
under the Soviets is very great indeed. The Soviet Jew before the
Second World War actually looked down upon the American Jew.
He considered himself a national Jew with a Yiddish school system
and Yiddish cultural institutions. The American Jew, he believed,
assimilated through the English language, was not a good Jew, but
like any other American who had a private attachment to some sort
of religious opiate. From the American point of view, such a na-
tional Jew in the Soviet Union, even in the thirties, was not a real
Jew because he had no religion, he had no possibility of expressing

himself in Hebrew, and he had lost his moorings in Zionism and
traditional Judaism.
Thus, a breakup of the Jewish body during the emancipation pe-

riod was a real danger. It is an even greater danger now. Perhaps the
establishment of the State of Israel was the natural answer, because
Israel promises the development of a modern Jew and a modern
Jewish culture, conscious of world thought, yet free to assume its
own form on its own soil. We now begin to have an objective

standard for what modern Judaism is or can be.
As a wit once said, "The only lesson that history has taught us is
that no generation ever learned from history." But this is true only
because man is not a rational being, despite Aristotle and Maimon-
ides. He
does not act rationally. His irrational impulses, especially
much more powerful than all his reasoning
in social affairs, are often
powers. Hence, history and its lessons, being, after all, derived on the
rational plane, cannot make a man live up to them in that irrational
sphere. But if we are prepared to learn lessons, and what is more, if

we are prepared to overcome those irrational impulses in order to
live up to what we have learned, I believe that we might with profit
consider closely the period of the Second Commonwealth. The ex-
periences of that significant period in Jewish history can illumine for

us many of the problems we face today in the era of the Third
Commonwealth.
4
PALESTINIAN JUDAISM IN THE
FIRST CENTURY
MORTON SMITH
"R. Simeon the son of R. Jehosadak asked R. Samuel bar Nahman,

I hear you are an expert in homiletic
'Since exegesis, tell me, whence
was light created?' He replied, The Holy One, blessed be He,
wrapped himself in the light] as in a white garment, and the
it [i.e.,
splendor of his glory shone from one end of the world to the
"
other.'
*
This saying from Bercshit Rabba might serve as an allegorical
history of ancient Christianity: the God of ancient Israel clothed
himself in the white garment of a Greek philosopher and became
"the light of the world."
But might it not also be a history of ancient Judaism? Did not
Judaism, in the same period, undergo the same Hellenization to
achieve a similar expansion? Here we enter upon controversial
ground.
With regard to Diasporic Judaism, there is no doubt of the Greek
garment; the question is whether the deity whom it clothed was still
the God of ancient Israel. Into this question we shall not enter.
As no serious doubt that the deity
to Palestinian Judaism, there is
was still the God
of ancient Israel, but the notion that he was ever
clothed in a Greek garment is a matter of dispute. This dispute con-
cerns not only the concept of the deity, but the entire picture of
1 Bercshit Rabba 3:4, ed. Thcodor, pp. 19 .
67
ancient Palestinian Judaism. It goes even so far as to call into doubt

the classical distinction between Palestinian and Diasporic Judaism.
It asks whether this contrast does not reflect the present differences
between two bodies of source material (the Rabbinic and the Dia-
sporic) rather than the ancient differences
between those parts of
Judaism which the sources describe. If our reports were written by
extremists from the two ends of Judaism (and handed down by
groups even more extreme than the writers), they may be describing
the same thing in different terms, dichotomy may be
and the classical
due to our ignorance of the ancient average, middle ground.

Some aspects of Diasporic Judaism suggest this Marcel Simon, in :
his book, Verus Israel, has recently emphasized that the Jews of the
Diaspora gave up the Septuagint for Aquila's Greek translation of

the Old Testament a change of immense significance, since it shows
that they were willing to sacrifice the superior Greek style of the
Septuagint in order to get a text of which the only advantage was

that it preserved the peculiarities which justified Rabbinic exegesis.
Harry Wolfson, in his monumental Philo, has demonstrated the

amazing extent of agreement between Philo and the Rabbis. There
is no doubt that the
picture of Judaism derived from the Roman
imperial inscriptions and from the remarks of classical authors
agrees in its main outlines with the picture derived from Rabbinic
literature.
Now this evidence of Rabbinic influence in the Diaspora is more
than matched by evidence from Palestine that Judaism there was
profoundly influenced by Hellenism. Just at present, the most famous
body of such evidence is composed of the documents newly dis-
covered near the Dead Sea. It is too early to attempt any detailed
interpretation of these, but they certainly show many parallels with

the thought of Hellenized Jews like Paul, and they prove con-
clusively that Greek books were in the library of this extremely

legalistic, ultraconservativeJewish community. Hardly less famous
are the archaeological discoveries, especially of Bet Shearim and of
the synagogues. Bet Shearim was the most famous burial
ground of
Rabbinic Judaism. Its remains show that it was freely adorned with
drawings and, less freely, even with statues carved in relief, that most
Palestinian Judaism in the First Century 69
of the inscriptions written there were in Greek, and that some of

them contained such commonplaces as, "Be of good courage, no one
is immortal." The synagogues show
us a similar use of animal and
human forms and tell us that the human and, some-
in high relief,
times, the animal forms were later chipped away, but carefully, so
that the rest of the carving would not be damaged. They show us,
further, the use of conventional representations of the pagan sun god

as the central ornament in the mosaic floors of a number of syna-
gogues. This ornamentation has been known for some time, but its
significance was not demonstrated until Erwin Goodenough, in his
epoch-making Jewish Symbols in the Greco-Roman Period, pointed
out the amazing parallels between these synagogue floors and the
magical amulets on which the sun ,god frequently appears with the
titles lao (i.e., YHWH) and Sabaoth. These parallels, in turn, en-
abled Professor Goodenough to make an extremely strong case for
his identification of Jewish sources in many sections of the magical
papyri, so that we are almost forced to accept as a product of Judaism

an invocation of Helios in which he is hailed as "first and most
happy of aeons and father of the world."
This identification of source material is a fascinating but hazardous
business which has added a great deal, if not to our absolute knowl-
edge, at least to our plausible guesses, about the varieties of ancient

Judaism. Since our concern is the Hellenization of Palestinian
Judaism, we shall pass over works of doubtful origin, like the Jewish
material found by Wilhelm Bousset in the Apostolic Constitutions,
and turn our attention to the undoubtedly Jewish and probably
Palestinian sources of many of the pseudepigraphic writings pre-
served by Christians. The Ascension of Isaiah contains a source from
the time of Herod the Great which shows us a group of prophets
living in the wilderness beyond Bethlehem, going naked, eating

herbs only, and denouncing Jerusalem as Sodom. Such asceticism
is certainly not in the Israelite tradition. The Assumption of Moses
contains a similar denunciation of the priesthood of the Second
Temple and calls its sacrifices vain, but has great reverence for the
Temple itself. It also denounces a group of rulers who claim to be
just, but who will not let common people touch them for fear of
jo What History Teaches
pollution,and who devour the goods of the poor. Other such ex-
amples could be found, but enough has been said to show that this
evidence requires a careful revision of the common notion that
Palestinian Judaism was substantially free of Hellenistic influence.
The first step in estimating what the Hellenistic influence actually
was is to determine the extent of the use of Greek. The preponder-
ance of Greek in the inscriptions at Bet Shearim has already been
noted. They show us the state of affairs from the late second century
on. For the first century, we get most information from the Jewish
ossuaries, on which about a third of the inscriptions are in Greek. For
the yet earlier period, the evidence has been summed up by William
F. Albright, who is an ardent advocate of Aramaic influences, but
who admits in his Archaelogy of Palestine that there was a real
eclipse of Aramaic during the period of the Seleucid Empire. He
remarks that scarcely a single Aramaic inscription from this period
has been discovered except in Trans Jordan and Arabia, and that
inscriptions in Jewish Aramaic do not appear until the middle of
the century before the Common Era.
first
used to be argued, however, that observant Jews kept themselves

It
apart from this Hellenized world around them, and either knew no
Greek at all or, at least, knew no Greek literature, so that their
thinking about religion was not touched by Greek influence. This

notion, however, has now been completely refuted by the works of
Saul Lieberman, Gree\ in Jewish Palestine and Hellenism in Jewish
Palestine, which have demonstrated, once for all, that many Jews in
Rabbinic circles not only knew Greek, but read the Bible in it and
prayed in it. Further (and of even greater significance), they have
demonstrated that the terminology for at least one of the most im-
portant forms of Rabbinic legal exegesis is derived from the Greek
name for the same sort of argument: gezera shawa translates sun\-
risis pros ison. Since even here, in the Holy of Holies of legal
exegesis, so basic a term could be taken from Greek, it seems only
plausible to suppose that theamazing string of parallels to Greek
exegetic and which Professor Lieberman also
scribal procedures,
demonstrates, was due largely to Hellenistic influence. So we must

suppose that early in its history the scribal study of the Law under-
went a period of profound Hellenization. This supposition would

accord with the archaeological evidence for the extreme Hellenization
of Palestine during the later Persian and Ptolemaic
periods, and with
the belief that the upper classes of the
priesthood, which then con-
trolled the exposition of the Law, were particularly Hellenized.
Perhaps should be remarked in passing that Ben Sira made foreign
it
travel for the purpose of

study a duty of the good scribe. His opinion
is
clearly in accord with the practice of many Hellenistic philos-
ophers.
We conclude, then, that Palestine in the first century was pro-
foundly Hellenized and that the Hellenization extended even to the
basic structure of much Rabbinic thought. This requires us to re-
consider the question: How were those first-century Rabbis, who
appear as authorities in Rabbinic writings, related to the whole of
Palestinian Judaism ? What part in the general history of the times
did they and their scholars play ?
First of all, it must be said that they were not unopposed. The
Palestinian Talmud reports that at the time of the Exile there were
twenty-four sorts of heretics in Palestine. Whatever the heretics be-
lieved, they certainly did not agree with the Pharisees and they al-
most certainly claimed to be Jews. Many of them were probably
Jewish Christians, and certain Christian writers (especially Justin,
Eusebius, and Epiphanius) tell us something of their many varie-
ties.
Nor was Jesus the only religious leader whose followers estab-
lished separate sects. John the Baptist also started a sect some of his :
followers did not transfer their loyalty to Jesus, but maintained that
John had been the true prophet, Jesus the false. Jacques Thomas, in
his careful study, Le Mouvement baptistc en Palestine, has shown
that John's group was only one some
of a great number of sects
Jewish, some Christian, and some, perhaps, neither which flourished

in Palestine from the first century on and were characterized not
only by the use of washing as a sacrament but also by the adoption

of ascetic practices and, frequently, by the belief in a supernatural
being who visited earth from time to time, in various incarnations,

to reveal the will of God. It should be noticed that this belief appears
very early in Christianity. To Justin, for example, Jesus is not the

appearance of the Logos it had appeared before, for example, to
first
Abraham at Mamre. A similar belief about John the Baptist was
early developed by his followers. Whether Jesus or John actually

made such claims it is hard to say, but we have good reason to think
that Simon Magus (a Samaritan teacher who also founded a sect and
who, said to have been a disciple of John) actually did
like Jesus, is
claim to be a divine power come down to earth. This divine power

was often described as "the true prophet," and it is
probably not in-
and Acts tell us of

significant in this connection that both Josephus
the many prophets who arose in this period and led many astray.
They were not insignificant cranks with one or two followers. One
of those mentioned by both Josephus and Acts had thousands of
followers and was only put down by the Roman forces in a major
battle on the Mount of Olives.
Of course, not all baptist sects followed this theological pattern,
and John's group presents similarities also to the Essenes, whom
Josephus recognized as Jews, but whose strange practices included
not only ritual bathing but the use of secret books filled with magical
names and of prayers addressed to the sun. We have already noticed
the position which the sun came to occupy in Jewish magic and
Jewish synagogues during the fourth century. That magic flourished
also in the earlier periods is hardly to be doubted. Most women, ac-
cording to Tannaitic tradition, practiced magic; and magic, as Pro-

fessor Lieberman has remarked, was not merely a few superstitious
practices, but an actual cult, of which Professor Goodenough has

shown the complicated theological ramifications.
At the opposite extreme from the magicians were the Jews who
had gone over entirely to Hellenistic rationalism and who were ac-
cused of being Epicureans. Whether these were actually members of
the clear-cut and hidebound Epicurean school, or merely individuals
accused by popular opinion of atheism, we cannot be certain. But
there is no doubt that their neighbors in rationalism, the Sadducees,
were a definite sect and undeniably Jewish they furnished many of
the high priests and were an important party in the Sanhedrin. Yet
they attacked as Pharisaic superstitions the beliefs in angels and

spirits, the life after death, and the divine governance of human
events.
Even within the Pharisees there were divisions. We know from
Josephus and the New Testament of one sect, the Zealots, which
appeared as a separate group early in the first century, when its
members embraced doctrines requiring civil disobedience. We know

from Talmudic evidence that in the conflict between the houses of
Hillel and Shammai the Law became two Laws, and the later tradi-
tion which miraculously declared them both the words of the Living
God is no less suspicious than the later Christian tradition which
brought Peter and Paul into perfect concord.
Finally, Palestine was not devoid of Jews from the Diaspora and
these, too, formed separate communities. The only synagogue in-
scription we have from Jerusalem comes from a Diasporic synagogue

in which a Christian preached. Communities of Jews from Alex-
andria, Babylonia, Tarsus, Gyrene, and Cappadocia are suggested by

the funeral inscriptions of Joppa. The Acts lists, as resident in
Jerusalem, Jews from Galilee, Parthia, Media, Elam, Mesopotamia,
Cappadocia, Pontus, the Roman province of Asia, Phrygia, Pam-
phylia, Egypt, Cyrenaica, Rome, Crete, and Arabia.
But all these groups which we have discussed so far were un-
doubtedly minority groups. (A little magic may have been practiced
by almost everybody, but the adepts were probably few. As for the
Pharisees, their very name separatists declares their relation to
the whole.) The average Palestinian Jew of the first century was
probably the 'am ha-ares, any member of the class which made up
the "people of the land," a Biblical phrase probably used to mean
hoi pottoi. There are any number of passages in which the Mishna
and Tosefta seem for granted that the average man passing
to take it
in the street, the average woman who stops in to visit her friend, or
the average workman or shopkeeper or farmer is an 'am ha-ares.
The members of this majority were not without religion. They cer-
tainly did not observe some rules laid down by the Pharisees, and at
a later period they were said to hate the Pharisees even more than the
gentiles hated the Jews; but they had their own synagogues (though
the Pharisees said that anybody who frequented them would come
to an early
death), they kept the Jewish festivals, and they even
observed some of the more serious purity regulations. So even with
them we have not reached the end of the varieties of first-century
Judaism, for we have said nothing of the worldly Jews the
Herodians, tax gatherers, usurers, gamblers, shepherds, and robbers
(by the thousands) who fill the pages of the Gospels, the Talmuds,
and Josephus.
How, then, are we to account for the tradition which makes the
Pharisees the dominant group ? First, no doubt, by the natural
prej-
udice of the Rabbinic material. This point hardly needs elaboration:
the sayings of the Rabbis were, of course, recorded
by and for their
followers. Even if the sayings were completely unbiased and the
record absolutely accurate, the mere concentration of interest in the
group concerned would make them bulk out of all proportion to the
rest. In the second place, however, there are the statements of
Josephus, attributing to the Pharisees a predominant influence with

the people. To understand these we must recall the career of
Josephus
and the which he wrote.
situation in
Josephus was a member of the priestly aristocracy and in his later

period claimed to have been a Pharisee. Certainly, the alliance of
aristocrats and Pharisees which was in control
during the early days
of the war made him commander of some Jewish forces in
Galilee,
though Simeon ben Gamaliel, the leader of the Pharisaic group, later
have him removed. When his forces were defeated he sur-
tried to
rendered to the Romans and hailed Vespasian as the universal ruler
whom Jewish tradition had prophesied would arise from Palestine.
When Vespasian fulfilled this prophecy by becoming emperor,
Josephus was set at liberty and taken into Roman service, first in
Jerusalem as interpreter during the siege, and later in Rome. Here
he wrote his Jewish War in the service of Roman
propaganda: its
purpose being to persuade the Jews of Mesopotamia that nothing
could be done to help the Jews of Palestine, and to
persuade Jews
everywhere that the Palestinians had brought their ruin upon them-
selves by their own wickedness; that the Romans were not hostile to
Judaism but had acted in Palestine regretfully, as agents of divine

vengeance; and that therefore submission to Roman rule was justi-

fied by religion as well as common sense.
For this service Josephus has often been denounced as an apostate
from Judaism. He was not. Submission to the Romans and recogni-
tion of Vespasian as destined emperor certainly did not, in and by
themselves, constitute apostasy, for these very same acts are at-
tributed by Rabbinic tradition to the leader of the Pharisaic revival,
R. Johanan ben Zakkai. Clearly, then, the question of Josephus*
loyalty toJudaism must be settled by other considerations. And there
ispositive evidence that he remained, even in Rome, an admitted
and convinced Jew. He wrote a defense of Judaism against the gram-
marian Apion, and this at a time when defenders of Judaism were
probably not in favor. In the reign of Domitian, who seems to have
been hostile to Jews, he wrote his major work, the Jewish Antiquities,
of which the main concern was to glorify the Jewish tradition. His
loyalty to that tradition, therefore, is
hardly to be questioned.
But which group within the Jewish tradition was he loyal ? Here
to
a comparison of the War with the Antiquities is extremely informa-
tive. In the War, written shortly after the destruction of Jerusalem,
Josephus still favors the group of which his family had been repre-
sentative the wealthy, pro-Roman section of the priesthood. He
represents them (no doubt correctly) group of the community
as that
which did all it could to keep the peace with Rome. In this effort,
he once mentions that they had the assistance of the chief Pharisees,
but otherwise the Pharisees hardly figure on the scene. In his account
of the reign of Salome-Alexandra he copies an abusive paragraph of
Nicholas of Damascus, describing the Pharisees as hypocrites whom
the queen's superstition enabled to achieve and abuse political power.
In his account of the Jewish sects he gives most space to the Essenes.
(Undoubtedly he was catering to the interests of Roman readers,

with whom ascetic philosophers in out-of-the-way countries enjoyed
a long popularity.) As for the others, he merely tags brief notices of
the Pharisees and Sadducees onto the end of his survey. He says
nothing of the Pharisees' having any influence with the people, and
the only time he represents them as attempting to exert any in-
fluence (when they ally with the leading priests and other citizens of
Jerusalem to prevent the outbreak of the war), they fail.

In the Antiquities, however, written twenty years later, the picture
is quite different.Here, whenever Josephus discusses the Jewish
sects, the Pharisees take first place, and every time he mentions them
he emphasizes their popularity, which is so great, he says, that they

can maintain opposition against any government. His treatment of
the Salome-Alexandra incident is particularly illuminating: he makes
Alexander Janneus, Salome's husband and the lifelong enemy of the
Pharisees, deliver himself of a deathbed speech in which he blames
all the troubles of his reign on the fact that he had opposed them
and urges his wife to restore them to power because of their over-
whelming influence with the people. She follows his advice and the
Pharisees cooperate to such extent that they actually persuade the
people that Alexander was a good king and make them mourn his
passing!
It is almost impossible not to see in such a rewriting of history a
bid to the Roman government. That government must have been
faced with the problem: Which group of Jews shall we support? It
must have asked the question: Which Jews (of those who will work
with us at all) can command enough popular following to keep
things stable in Palestine? To this question Josephus is volunteering
an answer: The Pharisees, he says again and again, have by far the
greatest influence with the people. Any government which secures
their support is accepted; any government which alienates them has
trouble. The Sadducees, it is true, have more following among the
(We may guess that they were better represented at the

aristocracy.
Roman court and that Josephus was trying to answer this objection.)
But they have no popular following at all and, even in the old days
when they were in power, they were forced by public opinion to
follow the Pharisees' orders. As for the other major parties, the
Essenes are a philosophical curiosity, and the Zealots differ from the
Pharisees only by being fanatically anti-Roman. So any Roman gov-
ernment which wants peace in Palestine had better support and
secure the support of the Pharisees.
Josephus' discovery of these important political facts (which he

ignored when
writing the Jewish War) may have been due partly
to a change in his personal relationship with the Pharisees. Twenty
years had now intervened since his trouble with Simeon ben Ga-
maliel, and Simeon was long dead. But the mere cessation o per-
sonal hostilities would hardly account for such pointed passages as
Josephus added to the Antiquities. The more probable explanation
is that in the meanwhile the Pharisees had become the
leading
candidates for Roman support in Palestine and were already ne-
gotiating for it. This same conclusion was reached from a considera-
tion of the Rabbinic evidence by Gedalyahu Alon in his History of
the Jews in Palestine in the Period of the Mishna? He concluded
that the Roman recognition of the judicial authority of the Rabbinic
organization in Palestine came after the fall of Domitian, but had

been a matter of negotiation even in Domitian's time and, when it
came, was an official approval of an authority which had already ex-
istedde facto for some time. This theory, and the tradition that
Jewish relations with Rome underwent some strain in the latter days
of Domitian, would perfecdy explain the content and tone of those
passages of the Antiquities which insist on the influence of the

Pharisees with the people.
Such motivation does not, of course, prove that Josephus' state-
ments are false, but it would explain their falsity if that were other-
wise demonstrated. Without attempting conclusive demonstration,
three points may be noted:
First, as we have seen, there is much evidence that during the first
century a great deal of Palestinian Judaism was not Pharisaic.

Second, the influence of the Pharisees with the people, which
Josephus reports, is not demonstrated by the history he records. John
Hyrcanus was not afraid to break with the Pharisees, and none of
the succeeding Maccabees except Salome and the puppet Hyrcanus
worth while to conciliate them. As to their relations with
II felt it
Herod, Josephus contradicts himself; but if Herod had the support

of the Pharisees it did not suffice to secure him popularity, and if
they opposed him they were not strong enough to cause him serious
trouble. During the first century of the Common Era, the only ruler
8
[Toledot ha-Ychudim bc-Eres YIsrael bt-Teqtrfat ha-Mishna tve-ha-Talmud*]
who consistently conciliated them was Agrippa I. If, as Josephus

says, they were for peace with Rome,
their influence failed to main-
tain it. After the war broke out, they formed only one party in the
coalition upper-class government, which held the initial power in
Jerusalem for a short time, but was ousted by groups with more
popular support. All this accords perfectly with the fact that Josephus
in his firsthistory of the war never thought their influence important
enough to deserve mention.
In the third place, even Josephus' insistence on their influence
"with the multitude" implies a distinction between them and the
people whom they influenced. Evidently, "the multitude" were the
majority and they were not Pharisees. In one instance, where Jose-
phus speaks of the Pharisees as refusing to take an oath of loyalty to
Herod, he sets the number of them at "more than 6000." The passage
is not absolutely conclusive because another seems to contradict it
and assert that the oath was taken, but the most plausible explana-
tion would seem to be that which takes the passages as contradictory
rather than complementary and understands 6000 as the (approxi-
mate) total number of the Pharisees. The Essenes, by the way, num-
bered about 4000, according to Josephus' estimate.
How, then, are we to understand the position of these 6000 Phari-
mass of the Jewish population, that is to say, in what
sees vis-a-vis the
category of the population were they classed: were they clergy or

laity? Was it a profession to be a Pharisee, or an avocation?
Here the danger is obviously that of imposing modern categories
upon ancient society. Many would say there is even a danger of im-
posing ancient categories on a part of ancient society which they do
not fit, of classifying the Pharisees in categories which belong to
Greek and Roman society, not to Palestinian Judaism. This charge
has been brought particularly against Josephus, who consistently
describes the major Jewish sects, including the Pharisees, as phil-
osophic schools. In this he is supported by agreement with Philo and

with the ancient Christian writers who describe the Jewish sects.
But it is
customary to say that in using this description he is trying
to explain the sects to his gentile readers, who had nothing like them
in their society. The easiest way to give them a general idea of what
the Pharisees did was to call them "philosophers," just as, nowadays,
the simplest way to explain a guru is to call him a "father confessor."
The people who maintain this view hold not only that all Pharisees
were primarily Pharisees (a very strong position) but also that the
Greco-Roman society produced nothing really like them, so that, al-
though others may have thought of them in its terms, the Pharisees
themselves never did so. Now this latter position is a particular ap-
plication of the general notion that Palestinian Judaism was prac-

tically untouched by Hellenistic influences. We
have already seen
that general notion to be false; here we may adduce a number of
reasons for doubting this particular application as well.
First of all, it must be remembered that Judaism to the ancient
world was a philosophy. That world had no general term for reli-
gion. It could speak of a particular system of rites (a cult or an
initiation), or a particular set of beliefs (doctrines or opinions),
or a legal code, or a body of national customs or traditions; but
for the peculiar synthesis of all these which we call a "religion/* the
one Hellenistic word which came closest was "philosophy." So when
Judaism first took shape and became conscious of itself and its own
peculiarity in the Hellenized world of the later Persian Empire, it

described itself with the Hellenic term meaning the wisdom of its
people (Deut. 4:6). To the success of this concept within Judaism the
long roll call of the wisdom literature bears witness. Further, the
claim was accepted by the surrounding world. To those who ad-
mired Judaism it was "the cult of wisdom" (for so we should trans-
late the word "philosophy" which they used to describe it), and to
those who disliked it it was "atheism," which is simply the other side
of the coin, the regular term of abuse applied to philosophy by its
opponents.
It is therefore not surprising that Jews living, as Palestinian Jews
did, in the Greco-Roman world, and thinking of their religion as the
wisdom, should think of the groups in their society which

practice of
were distinguished by peculiar theories and practices as different
schools of the national philosophy. That the groups also thought
thus of themselves is shown by a vast number of details, of which
the following are a few examples. Their claim to authority was put
8o What History Teaches
in the form of a chain of successors by whom the true philosophy

had been handed down. Elias Bkkerman in his article, "La Chaine
de la tradition pharisienne," has demonstrated the parallel between
this list (in Abot) and the list alleged by the philosophic schools, and
has remarked that the Greek and Pharisaic lists differed from those of
the priestly "philosophies" of the barbarians in being lists of teachers,

not of ancestors. He also mentions, apropos of the "houses" of Hillel
and Shammai, the facf that "house of so-and-so" is a regular form of
reference to a philosophic school founded by so-and-so; and he shows
that both the Greek and the Jewish philosophic schools justified their
peculiar teachings by claiming accurate tradition from an authorita-

tive master. Not only was the theory of the Pharisaic school that of
a school of Greek philosophy, but so were its practices. Its teachers
taught without pay, like philosophers; they attached to themselves
particular disciples who followed them around and served them, like
philosophers; they looked to gifts for support, like philosophers; they
were exempt from taxation, like philosophers; they were distin-
guished in the street by their walk, speech, and peculiar clothing,
like philosophers; they practiced and praised asceticism, like phi-
losophers; and finally what is, after all, the meat of the matter
they discussed the questions philosophers discussed and reached the
conclusions philosophers reached. Here there is no need to argue the
matter, for Professor Wolfson, in his aforementioned classic study of
Philo, has demonstrated at length the possibility of paralleling a
philosophic system point by point from the opinions of the Rabbis.
Now one, or two, or two dozen parallels might be dismissed as
coincidental: men, by virtue of mere humanity, are similar and
all
life presents them with similar problems; it is not surprising, there-
fore, that they should often and independently reach the same an-
swers. But parallels of terminology are another matter, and here we
come back to Professor Lieberman's demonstration that some of the
most important terms of Rabbinic Biblical exegesis have been bor-
rowed from the Greek. This is basic. As indicated above, the exist-
ence of such borrowings can be explained only by a period of pro-
found Hellenization, and once the existence of such a period has
been hypothecated it is plausible to attribute to it also the astounding
series of parallelswhich Professor Wolfson has shown to exist be-

tween the content of philosophic and Rabbinic thought.
In sum, then, the discoveries and research of the past twenty-five
years have left us with a picture of Palestinian Judaism in the first
century far different from that conceived by earlier students of the
period. We now see a Judaism which had behind it a long period of
thoroughgoing Hellenization Hellenization modified, but not
thrown off, by the revival of nationalism and nationalistic and anti-
quarian interest in native tradition and classic language (an interest
itself typically
Hellenistic). As the Greek language had permeated
the whole country, so Greek thought, in one way or another, had
affected the court and the commons, the Temple and the tavern, the
school and the synagogue. If there was any such thing, then, as an
"orthodox Judaism," it must have been that which is now almost
M
unknown to us, the religion of the
average "people of the land.
But the different parts of the country were so different, such gulfs
Caesarea, and
of feeling and practice separated Idumea, Judea,
Galilee, that even on this level there was probably
no more agree-
ment between them than between any one of them and a similar
area in the Diaspora. And in addition to the local differences, the
country swarmed with special sects, each devoted to its own tradition.
Some of these, the followings of particular prophets, may have been
spontaneous revivals of Israelite religion as simple as anything in
Judges. But even what little we know of these prophets suggests that
some of them, at least, taught a complex theology. As for the major
philosophic sects the Pharisees, Sadducees, and Essenes the largest
and ultimately the most influential of them, the Pharisees, numbered
only about 6000, had no real hold either on the government or on the
masses of the people, and was, as were the others, profoundly
Hellenized.
This period of Palestinian Jewish history, then, is the successor to
one marked by great receptivity to outside influences. It is itself
characterized by original developments of those influences. These de-
velopments, by their variety, vigor, and eventual significance, made

this small country during this brief period the seedbed of the sub-
sequent religious history of the Western world.

5
JEWISH LIFE IN ERETZ YISRAEL

AS REFLECTED IN THE
PALESTINIAN TALMUD
SAUL LIEBERMAN
Any attempt to portray life in Eretz Yisrael in any given period

in a short paper, is like attempting to teach the whole Torah while
standing on one leg. I shall therefore limit myself

to a brief glimpse
into certain phases of Jewish life in Eretz Yisrael during the first
centuries after the fall of the Second Commonwealth. Although, at
firstglance, my subject may seem to be out of line with the general
theme of the Institute, it will soon be apparent, I hope, that it is quite
appropriate. Many of the difficulties which our ancestors encoun-

tered involve perennial issues.
Nineteenth-century Jewish historians generally treated the life of

the Jews in Eretz Yisrael during the aforementioned period as the
story of death and persecution, a history of torture and martyrdom.

And although modern scholars turn their attention to the actual life
of the people both of the Sages and the masses the monster of
religious persecution lurks in the background.

still
It is true that in the second quarter of the second century of the
Christian Era, the Palestinian Jews passed through a very critical

time as a result of the ruthless Hadrianic religious persecution. The
rebellion of Bar Kokba was drowned in blood and fire. Many Jewish
leaders and scholars were executed by the Romans; many of them
82
Eretz Yisrael in the Palestinian Talmud 83
went into hiding. But soon after the accession of the Antonines to
the Roman throne, this situation changed radically. During the entire
period from the second half of the second century until the end of
the fourth century, the Jewish religion, as a religion, was not mo-
phrase "as a religion," for I want to state

lested. I stress the posi- my
tion clearly: in principle, the Roman government did not require
Jews to transgress the precepts of their religion. There was no de-

liberate plan on the part of the Roman government to compel the
Jews to violate the practices of their faith. On
the other hand, when
it wanted to collect taxes and
military provisions from the Jews, it
completely disregarded Jewish religious scruples. As the Palestinian
Talmud itself
puts it: "The Romans had no
intention of forcing the
Jews to transgress their religion; all they wanted was to collect the
*
taxes." Hence, the Rabbis of the third century instructed the
Palestinian Jews to cultivate their fields during the Sabbatical year
so that they could pay their taxes. It is also related in the Palestinian
Talmud that in the middle of the fourth century the Rabbis ordered
the Jews to bake bread on the Sabbath for the army of Uriscinus. In
explanation of the order they stated: "Uriscinus wants to eat fresh

2
bread."
Nothing can be found in the entire Rabbinic literature of the third

and fourth centuries from which we might legitimately conclude that
the Roman government deliberately persecuted the Jewish religion
during that time. Conjectures by some Jewish scholars that the
Palestinian Jews of the third century were compelled to transgress
the Sabbath, worship idols, and give up the rites of circumcision
are as remarkable as they are unfounded. Whenever the Rabbis
speak of tortures during religious persecutions, they state clearly

that they refer to the doro shel shemad, to the generation of the
Hadrianic persecutions. They never mention Jewish religious mar-
tyrs as victims of the government in the centuries immediately fol-
lowing.
There is no doubt that although Constantme, and especially
Constantius, began to curtail certain Jewish rights, the Jews were not
1 Palestinian Shebi'ith IV, 35a.
Talmud,
2 Ibid.
forced to transgress religious laws. There is even no mention made

in Rabbinic literature of the limitation of Jewish rights by the first
Christian emperors; for in places inhabited either by Jews or by
heathens, the religious policy of the Christian emperors of the fourth
century was observed more in theory than in practice. Actually,
these decrees probably had very little, if any, practical application in
Palestinian localities thickly inhabited by Jews. For example, the
Jews probably never ceased building synagogues in Palestine during
this period.
Even
the enforcement of the edicts against the pagans of that time
depended greatly on the state of public sentiment in the respective

provinces. The emperors were interested, first of all, in the collection
of taxes and had no desire to excite the population. Marcus the Deacon
tells us that when Arcadius was asked, about the year 400, to order
the destruction of the pagan temples in Gaza, he became very angry

and said, "I know that this city is full of idols, but it pays its taxes
loyally, and contributes much to the treasury. If we frighten them
suddenly, they will run away, and we shall lose much in taxes."
This report of Arcadius' reply is in keeping with the general at-
titude of the emperors in such situations, as is correctly demonstrated
by the editors of the Vita Porphyrii.

We must bear one very important fact in mind: most of our in-
formation about Jewish life in Palestine is drawn from literary
sources,and among these, the homilies of the Rabbis occupy a

prominent place. Jewish historians, however, attached too much im-
portance to this genre of literature; literary sources cannot be ignored,
but we should never forget that we are reading rhetoric. These
homilies certainly do reflect the general sentiment of the people.
Nevertheless, their use for historical purposes must be controlled by
definite principles. We
can accept only that aspect of this literature
which is derived from special sources, e.g., the incidental stories re-
lated in Halakic portions. By way of illustration we shall cite
its
several examples both from the Halaka and from the Rabbinic
homilies.
In Abot de-Rabbi Natan, a source compiled at about the middle
of the third century, there is an anonymous comment on the verse
Eretz Yisrad in the Palestinian Talmud 85
in Deuteronomy 28:48: "Therefore shalt thou serve thine enemies

that the Lord shall send against thee, in hunger, and in thirst, and
in nakedness and in want of all things.'* The comment reads "How :
'in hunger': while a person is

eager to eat even barley bread and
cannot find it, the nations demand of him white bread and choice
meats. How "in thirst' : while a man desires to drink even a drop of
vinegar, or a drop of beer, and cannot find them, the nations de-
mand of him the finest wines of all lands. 'in nakedness' whileHow :
a man eager to wear even a garment of coarse wool or linen and

is
cannot find it, the nations demand of him the finest silks imported
from all lands. How 'in want of all things' : without light, without
3
knife, without table." This picture reflects admirably the general
sentiment of all provincials under the reign of the Severi, for the
Rabbinic source does not use the term Jew, but adam man. It is
every citizen, not only the Jew, who falls beneath the burden of
taxes.
Similarly we read in a Palestinian Midrash of the fourth century:

"Esau can be compared to a thorn; he is like a thorn from which you
disengage yourself here, and it entangles you there. So the wicked

Esau molests continuously. 'Bring your capitation tax, the public
taxes, and annona '; if a man says he has not, Esau fines him, robs
4
him, and imposes penalties upon him." There is no suggestion in
this complaint of special oppression of the Jews. The wicked Esau
oppresses all the provincials equally. And that they all complained in
similar fashion we know from the various petitions presented by the
provincials to the Roman emperors.

The situation did not change in the fourth century. pagan A
rhetorician at the beginning of the fourth century speaks in terms
almost identical with the passage from Abot de-Rabbi Natan. Lac-
tantius, in his De mortibus persecutorum, depicts the state of affairs
under Galerius: "No threshing floor without a tax collector, no
vintage without a watch, and nothing left for the sustenance of the
husbandman." He concludes with the same rhetorical outcry as our
3 Abot de-Rabbi Natan I, ed. Schechter, XX, 363.

*
Pesikja de R. Kahana II, published in Beth Talmud, ed. Weiss and Friedman, V,
anonymous Rabbi in Abot de-Rabbi Natan: "And one might have

said: 'How shall I furnish thee with those things O tyrant void of
understanding, if you carry off the fruits of my ground, if
you
violently seize all its expected produce?'"
The Halaka also reflects Jewish complaints about the billeting of
soldiers. It is related in the Palestinian Talmud that a group of
Rabbis once visited the hot springs of Gadara in Trans j or dania, a
very famous health resort even among non-Jews. The question was
raised among them whether it is
proper to rent rooms from a gentile
innkeeper for the Sabbath in order to avoid certain ritual restrictions.
One of the Rabbis permitted it, but a second Rabbi objected, and
declared: "Since the Gentile can come and remove us, the renting is
of no avail." Another Rabbi asked "Does it follow that our homes
:
do not belong to us either?" To this he received the following reply:

"There is a difference between our private homes and the hotel. Our
homes are not our own Romans may lodge with
in the sense that the
us; but they do not drive us Whereas, from a hotel we are liable
out.
to be ejected." It is obvious, from the names of the Rabbis who
visited the hot springs of Gadara, that the discussion took place in
the first half of the third century. The problem revolved about the
fact that Jewish guests might be removed at any time from the
hotel. And therein lies the main point of the discussion of the Rabbis
in Gadara. However, in practice the Roman troops ejected the natives
from their homes also in defiance of any law which might forbid
such action. But the Rabbis differentiated between an arbitrary and a
"legal" removal.
A local inscription sheds light on this discussion of
contemporary
the Rabbis. The
inhabitants of Phaenae in the Trachonitis, not far
from Gadara, wrote a petition to the Roman Consul in Syria, Julius
Saturninus. They complained of oppression caused by the billeting
of troops. Saturninus replied: "Since you have an inn, you cannot be
compelled to receive guests in your houses." From the Rabbinic texts,

combined with that of the inscription, we learn that "legally" the
soldiers could not be billeted in the houses of the inhabitants if inns
were available. Moreover, a distinction was drawn between private
homes and hotels. Space could be requisitioned in private homes
without prejudice to the right of the owner or tenant to remain in

them; whereas hotels could be wholly requisitioned, and the tenants
expelled.
The point of the Rabbis cited above is now even clearer. The rent-
ing of the inn in Gadara is of no avail in order to avoid ritual re-
strictions, since legally the inn can be requisitioned and its guests
ejected the moment the Roman troops arrive. Furthermore, the

Palestinian Talmud, in another source, differentiates between the
billeting of Roman officers and common soldiers. The lodging of the

considered legitimate by the Rabbis, as if
officer is it were done with
the consent of the owners. 5 The billeting of the common soldiers,
however, is
regarded by them as though it were done against the
consent of the owners she-lo bi-reshut.
This picture typical of conditions in the provinces. The hot
is
springs of Gadara evidently shared the ill fate of Scraptopara in

Thrace. The results in Gadara were the same as in the Thracian
warm springs a permanent flow of Roman nobles and common
soldiers. And if the residents somehow managed to accommodate
the Roman nobles, they bitterly resented the intrusion of the com-
6
moners, as is evident from the famous inscription of Scraptopara,
Many similar texts from the Palestinian Talmud and Midrashim
may be cited, and all reveal the anxiety of the Jewish masses re-
garding the burden of taxes and other impositions of the Roman
government on their personal lives. But the point is that their posi-
tion was not any worse than that of other provincials of the time.
The political situation of the Palestinian Jews for about two hun-
dred and fifty years after the Hadrianic persecutions suffered no
important changes. During that time the great monuments of learn-
ing were erected the Mishna, the Tosefta, the Halakic Midrashim,
the Palestinian Talmud, and many Aggadic Midrashim. In the
middle of the third century, a famous Rabbi in Tiberias ordered the
7
destruction of all the idols in the public bath of that city. At ap-
5 Palestinian
Talmud, 'Erubin VI, 24*). Here I amend the text slightly. Our text
now change it to "Keilhn D'ailin Bi-re$hut"
reads "Beillin D'ailin Bi-reshut." I
6
Dittenberger, Sylloge Inscriptwnum Graecantm ($rd ed., 1888). Cf. Cambridge
Ancient History, XII, 83.
'
T Palestinian
Talmud, Abodah Zara IV, 43d, bottom.
proximately the same time, Palestinian gentiles, most probably Chris-

8
tians, paved the streets with pieces of idols demolished by them.
Half a century later, Diocletian confirmed the privileges of the Jews
9
as a religious group. It is evident, therefore, that the Jews were not
molested under the pagan emperors of that time.
Similarly, our assumptions of religious persecutions of the Jews by
the first Chris dan emperors is a mere fiction. The attitude of the
Palestinian Jews of the third and fourth centuries toward the Roman
Empire was, of course, not too benevolent. They complained con-

tinuously against the Romans, denouncing the lawlessness and the
wickedness of their rulers. As a sick patient frequently desires to
change Rabbis often thought that a change from the

his bed, so the
Roman to the Persian rule would be for the better. But this attitude
was expressed in words only, and probably nowhere else save within
the walls of the Academy.
I have demonstrated elsewhere the different attitudes of three
Jewish groups toward the Romans in the third century each of them
understandable and legitimate. 10 The Jews of the Roman provinces
in Cappadocia, for example, were active in the defense of the Roman
Empire. The Jews of Persia expressed their loyalty to the Persians.

The Palestinian Jews remained, at least outwardly, neutral. It is true
that the Jews of Sepphoris did not always concern themselves with
academic criticism of the Roman rulers. They sometimes resorted
to the sword. But the behavior of the Sepphori cannot be taken as a
measure of the general attitude of the Palestinian Jews. Sepphoris
was notorious in the age of the Palestinian Talmud for its boisterous
and rebellious spirit and for its many criminals. An amusing anecdote
about that city is related in the Talmud. Once Rabbi Hanina
preached there on the wicked acts of the generation of the Flood.
He depicted the clever contrivances and tricks of that wicked gen-
eration. He portrayed the devices by which they broke into other
people's homes in the dark of night. The final effect of the ser-
mon was three hundred burglaries in Sepphoris that very night. The
8
Babylonian Talmud, 'Abodah Zara V, 503.
9 Palestinian
Talmud, 'Abodah Zara V, 44d.
1
JetrisA Quarterly Review, XXXVI (1946), 35 C
criminals imitated the methods employed by the generation of the

11
Flood with excellent results.
The spirit of that anecdote harmony with the spirit
is in perfect
of the time. The impious were regular worshipers at the
thieves
synagogue. They had not come there to learn the devices used by
the generation of the Flood. They had come to pray and to listen to
the words of the Torah. But since they incidentally heard something
that could be useful to their profession, they seized upon it.
It is obvious from many Rabbinic sources that, on the whole, the
Jewish criminals were alarmed when they were excommunicated

by the Rabbis. This fear of excommunication was more superstitious
than religious in character. The anathema included a curse on the
culprits, and the burglars may have been afraid that such a curse
might hurt their business. As a matter of fact, the Babylonian Tal-
mud relates that after a Rabbi of the third century had excom-
municated a band of thieves, they finally came to plead for the abso-
lution of the ban. told their friends that they had failed in all
They
their attempts to steal for twenty-two years, ever since the date of
12
their excommunication. This phenomenon is of special interest to
us. It demonstrates the attitude of the lower strata of Jewish society
toward the Rabbis.
It is also clear that the masses had no special reverence for the
lower orders of the clergy, e.g., the beadle, the sexton, the elementary-
school teacher, etc. The Midrash tells us that a band of people of ill
repute used to have their regular Friday dinner on the premises of

the synagogue. After each meal they adopted the practice of throwing
the bones at the beadle. However, when one of them was on his
deathbed, he appointed the same beadle as the guardian of his son.
When he was asked why he chose the poor beadle in preference
to his many friends, he answered, "I know them well; I know the
13
difference between them and this poor beadle."
Again, we read in the Palestinian Talmud that after the famous
11 Palestinian
Talmud, Mafaser Shem V, 55d. Cf. Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin
1093.
12
Babylonian Talmud, 'Abodak Zara 26a.
13 Bereshit Rabba 65, ed. Theodor-AIbeck, p. 728.
Rabbi Ze'ira immigrated to Eretz Yisrael, he entered a Jewish butcher

shop buy a pound of meat. Upon inquiring about
for the first time, to
the price, he was told, "Fifty small coins and one blow." The Rabbi
announced that he was ready to double the price and forgo the blow.
But the butcher on administering the stroke. The poor Rabbi
insisted
finally consented to it. When

he came to the Academy, he remarked:
"What a strange custom you have in your place. A man cannot eat
a pound of meat without first receiving a good blow." And he told
them the whole story. The Rabbis immediately sent for the butcher
to punish him. But saintly Rabbi Ze ira swore that he didn't mind the
c
slap at all. He was a local custom. 14

thought it
We have no right to infer from this story that the butcher wanted
to slight the Rabbi. He most probably did not even know who stood
before him. He saw a very insignificant looking man the Rabbi was
of short stature an immigrant who spoke Babylonian Aramaic, who
did not know
the price of meat. not have some fun with him?
Why
The story indicates the attitude of a butcher toward a new im-
migrant, and nothing more.
On the other hand, we have substantial evidence that the Palestin-
ian bandits had much respect for the famous Rabbis. The Palestinian
Talmud relates that when a group of Jewish brigands learned that
the man whom they had robbed was none other than the famous
Rabbi Yohanan, they immediately volunteered to restore half of the
booty to him, and were finally prevailed upon to restore all the
15
spoil
The Babylonian Talmud explicitly states that the brigands of
Eretz Yisrael never lost their reverence for the famous Palestinian
teachers. Here there is a basic difference between criminals in Eretz
Yisrael and their fellows in other lands. The predominant term for
the malefactor in the Palestinian Talmud is lestes, "bandit," rather
than gannav, "thief," which is the common term in the Babylonian
Talmud. This difference is well attested by an explicit statement of
a Palestinian Rabbi. Rabbi Isaac said : "He who has the misfortune to
teach a wicked pupil in Eretz Yisrael, is
virtually raising a bandit, a
14 Palestinian
Talmud, Berakpr II, 50.
15 Palestinian
Talmud, Terumot VIII, 46b.
Eretz YIsrael in the Palestinian Talmud 91
brigand. He who has the same misfortune in the Diaspora, is rearing

a slave." 16 The Palestinian malefactor is an overaudacious, impudent
brigand; his counterpart in the Diaspora is a base slave, a denouncer,

and a venal villain.
The Rabbis saw it as their task to combat these terrible vices and
they selected one of the Jewish principles as the highest virtue

shalom, "love of peace." Shalom was not a means to an end, but an
end in itself. The name of the Lord is peace, and the virtue of peace
knows no discrimination between race and creed, between Jew and
heathen. The Palestinian Talmud records the following rule: "In a
city populated by Jews and Gentiles, you should collect charity from
Jews and Gentiles, feed the poor of the Jews and the Gentiles, visit
the sick of the Jews and the Gentiles, inter the dead of the Jews and
the Gentiles, comfort the mourners of the Jews and the Gentiles, pro-
tect the property of the Jews and the Gentiles. These are the ways
1T
of peace." On the other hand, the Rabbis condemned ingratitude
and disloyalty as the basest of vices. The ingrate, they assert, will
eventually fallinto atheism, forfeiting the benefits bestowed upon
him by his Maker. 18 The lowest degree of ingratitude is the betrayal
of confidence.
We have touched on some the varied aspects of the life of the
Jews under the Roman emperors. In the specific instances to which I
have limited myself in this paper, one can see the emphasis placed
by the Rabbis of that generation upon the two virtues so basic for
the stability of all society and the welfare of mankind loyalty and
love of peace.
Efâh Rabba, Proem. 15:1, ed. Buber, ya.

17 Palestinian Talmud, Gitttn V,
470.
18 The Mishna
of Rabbi Eliczer, ed. Enelow, p. 137.
ISRAEL AND THE END OF HISTORY
CARL J. FRIEDRICH
Western civilization is distinguished by a unique sense of history.

In contrast to India, China, or Egypt, for whom history hardly
exists, except as a chronicle or record of doings acceptable to the
rulers, Western civilization has developed a complex self-conscious-
mess, involving not only vast masses of scientifically reliable informa-

tion or data, but a variegated pattern of interpretation which pro-
vides meaning on many levels of discourse. Economic, political,
religious,and intellectual frames of reference have been set forth

with persuasiveness by a galaxy of brilliant minds, until at last a
truly Faustian confusion and a consequent skepticism have arisen to
heighten and in a sense to epitomize the "crisis of the West." For
when "everyman" becomes "his own historian," as Carl Becker so
1
suggestively phrased it, this great heritage of a sense of history is
threatened with extinction; it evaporates into an extremely sub-
jectivist jeu d' esprit. Earlier, and less radically, the idea made its
appearance and it continues popular in many quarters that each

successive generation has to rewrite history to fit it into its own
peculiar preconceptions. Such a notion is only slightly less destruc-

tive of the "sense of history" than that of a purely personal approach;
though often linked with historicism, it paradoxically undermines
1 Carl
Becker,Everyman His Own Historian (1935). An even more radical posi-
tion is by Theodor Lessing, Geschichte als Sinngebung des Sinnloscn
that developed
(1921). Compare by contrast the recent American study by Marie Collins Swabey,
The Judgment of History (1954).
9*
Israel and the 'End of History 93
the foundation upon which historicism rests. For historicism char-

acteristically related everything to history, made everything relative
to and described it in terms of history. History is for historicism the
one stable framework for all other "truths"; in short, there is no
truth but historical truth. If,then, history evaporates into a subject! vist
jeu d'esprit, truth and its possibility are radically denied. The crisis
2
is upon us.
It is not my purpose to develop further this central theme of the
contemporary of the Western mind, highlighted as it is in the
crisis
history manufacturing of the totalitarian regimes. George Orwell has

dramatically depicted the trials and tribulations of such history
"makers" in Nineteen Eighty-Four? I shall concern myself instead
with showing the close connection of Israel, and her Interpretation of
her role, with this unique historical sense of Western civilization. It
ismy contention that this unique sense of history is an idea, and per-
haps the most distinctive one, which Western civilization has in-
herited from its Jewish antecedents. Or perhaps it would be more
accurate to say that Western civilization shares it with its Jewish
element; or to put it in still a different way, that the extraordinary
and peculiar role of the West's Judaic partner (if a civilization may be
portrayed as partnership in line with Burke's portrayal of the nation
as a partnership) lies in precisely its embodying and providing this
sense of history. I say advisedly both "embodying" and "providing,"
because I hope to show that the sense of history is real only where
the place of Israel in the recorded events is understood.

The Old Testament everyone knows, not only a record of the
is, as
history of the ancient Jews but it is also a bold and successful effort
to invest this record with a transcendental meaning. This tran-
scendental meaning is expressed in a number of familiar and moving
passages. It is maintained with passion and consistency that this his-
2 On historicism see Fricdrich Meinecke, Die Entstehttng def Historismus (1936).

Leo and History (1953)4 while pleading Greek
Strauss' recent study, Natural Right
philosophy against historicism, does not come to grips with the problem of meaning
which is implicit in the Judaeo-Christian sense of history as here developed.
3
George Orwell, Nineteen Eighty-Four (1949). The theme, totalitarian history
manipulation, is discussed and analyzed by Bertram Wolfe in his "Totalitarianism and
History," in Totalitarianism, ed. C. J. Friedrich (1954)-

tory shows God work in the world, that the Jewish folk com-
at
munity is
charged with a unique mission, and that this mission is
on the one hand intended to demonstrate the possibility of a godly,
moral community in which the law (Torah) is a living reality, and
that on the other hand there will arise from among its members an
eventual Messiah who will carry this message to the four corners of
the world, while at the same time liberating the community itself
and leading it to world predominance in a reign of universal peace
under law. It is essential to see this fourfold faith as a Gestalt, a con-
figuration which must be taken as a whole, for isolated elements of
it occur in many other places. But this conception of a historical mis-
sion of the Jewish people which gives meaning to the actual course
of events in history is of decisive importance. The interpretation is
central; it is
unitary and therefore closely bound up with monothe-
ism. It triumphs over all specific data and records. These data and
these records verify the interpretation in the very act of projecting it
and giving it transcendental significance. 4

Christ came and Christ went. The contemporaries of Jesus of
Nazareth refused to see in him the Messiah which the faith called
for. The reasons are obvious enough. They are also human enough.
He and many who came after Him believed that He was The Christ.
Who was
right? Who is right? This is part of the problem of the
sense of history of which we are speaking. For the question and the
divergent answers are questions vitally related to this very sense. If
4 It
might be argued, as Dr. Hannah Arendt did in a letter to the author, that such
transcendental meaning should be sharply differentiated from the immanent meaning
attributed to historical happenings in modern times. One might ask: "Has the He-
braic religion done more than designate a beginning and an end? Has it attributed
to historical happenings any other meaning than that of walking in the way of the
Lord and obeying His law, which is repeated in each generation?" My answer, hinted
at in the text, would be that it does, that the obedience to God's law is seen as re-
lated to the world mission of the Jewish people, and that there is resulting from this
circumstance a meaningful notion of progress toward this goal in terms of which
all particular events are to be evaluated. I would add that from this standpoint the
first issue also is resolved; for the very distinction between a transcendental and im-
manent meaning is shown to be partial in the sense that every immanent meaning
raises the question of a further and more comprehensive immanent meaning (e.g., the
person, the group, the nation, the culture, the world), and that at the last point of
reference the issue of transcendence presents itself anew and inescapably.
Israel and the End of History 95
the Jewish interpretation of
history were denied, the meaning of the
coming of Christ would become uncertain. If it were asserted, a self-
contradiction would seem to confront us, since the Jewish people re-
jected Him But might not the rejection itself be part

as the Saviour.
of this very meaning?
Might not the Jews be part of the Christian
community in an extraordinary sense? Could there, indeed, be a
Christian community without the Jews?
Evidently the men and
women who stood at the gates, the early Christians who built the
tradition of sacred bookswhich the Bible embodies, were not ready
to deny these questions.
They had a sense that the Jews belonged,
and so they made the Old Testament a part of the Book. had a They
sense that the Jews
belonged, and so they dwelt upon the Jewish
forebears of Jesus' parents, and upon the Pharisaical
training of Paul.
For it was essential to show that it was not only the
body of the
Jewish people that was involved, but the spirit of the Jewish people
as well. It was essential to embody this story in the Book and thereby
to ensure the perpetuation of the sense of and of historical
history
connectedness.
St. Augustine undertook to weld this sense of
history together with
the great tradition of classical Greek
philosophy. This tradition was
ahistorical in the strictest sense. Neither Plato nor Aristotle, nor
yet
Thucydides, had a sense of history at all For Plato it was "merely"
the phenomenal world that presented itself in
history. His failure to
persuade the Tyrant of Syracuse had for him no historical meaning.
It was an accident. If he had had better luck, he later
thought, what
he had intended might well have happened. That what had hap-
pened was bound to happen, and, for historical reasons, never oc-
curred to him. 5 For Aristotle, the historical record was a succession
of patterns. His Constitution of Athens shows us that he could distill
no genuine meaning from such a succession of patterns. It is tan-
talizing to watch him skirt along the edge of the historic sense. In
our Western tradition, it seems as if he must see it, given his notion
5 The extraordinary lack of any sense of history pervades all of Plato's work, in
spite of his vivid sense of the individual scene and the personal drama of the dialogue
as the setting for the dialectic search of the truth. It is most startling in his letters, and
more particularly in the famous seventh. See, for this, David Grene's interesting study,
Man in His Pride (1950), chap. XII.
of organic wholes unfolding in accordance with their inner pre-

determined end, their entelechy, because for us this concept has be-
come linked with meaning in history. But not for Aristotle. The
patterns are molded, the sequences are structured in accordance with
6
a hidden aitia, a fate that is blind and beyond rational discourse.
But Thucydides, surely, it might be objected, was filled with a his-
toric sense. he not the father of history as a science? Can we
Was
not say that without him modern history is unthinkable? The science
of history, if there be such a thing, is different from the sense of
history we are here discussing. Actually, great history, as we know it

in the West, as it is inspired by the sense of history, is not, never has
been, and never will be scientific. The data with which it builds its
edifice will be more scientific, the record will be more reliable and
precise; but history as such, the history of a kind which a Gibbon or
a Ranke or a Burckhardt wrote, will not be scientific at all. > Now
The History of the Peloponnesian War, while a great book, and while
it may be more comprehensible than the works I have mentioned, is
not inspired by a sense of history as we are here discussing it. Such

meaning as the events have is Thucydides himself says, it
extrinsic; as
7
is his hope that they will teach
by example. This notion that at some
other time some other man will learn from the mistakes of the
leaders of the Greeks is radically opposed to a sense of history. For
the sense of history is, among other things, built upon a realization
that the events of history are unique; that the sequence is a unilinear
one in which there is no going back, nor any moving ahead, because
the meaning is immanent in the sequence. Thucydides is a sophist.
He leaves us in despair.
Not so St. Augustine. The task he set himself was a gigantic one.
The familiar occasion, the Goths' conquest and sack of Rome, was*
6 Aristotle's avowed "empiricism" has obscured his ahistorical treatment of the
material with which he deals. According to Wilamowitz-MoellendorrT, the Constitution
of Athens is essentially intended as paideia, as showing what is sound doctrine. C. also
Werner Jaeger's Pazdeta (1944), III, chap. XI; also, the valuable introduction by
Kurt von Fritz and Ernest Kapp to their translation of the Constitution of Athens
7
Peloponnesian War, Book I, chap. XXII. Cf., for Thucydides, also the study of
Grene, cited above, chaps. VIVIII, as well as John H. Sinley, Thucydides
chap. VIII; the evaluation differs from the text.
for those trained inGreek philosophy and Roman law, not an event
invested with a historical meaning, but with a moral and political
one. "Had we not adopted the Christian teachings which under-
mined our Roman virtus, the barbarians would not have overcome
us," they cried. The
great bishop of Hippo saw the challenge. He
could have argued it merely in terms of morals. did that, too. He
But he did something else. He
transformed the sense of history that
speaks to us from the Old Testament
into the sense of history that
inspired the Civitas Dei. The destruction of Rome had to come, just
as did the exile of the Jewish people. God providentially castigates
those whom he loves. The meaning of history is an extended one:
Rome had to fall so as to destroy its myth, its hold upon the imagina-
tion ofman. History before the coming of Christ is a great procession
of empires, rising and falling, not endowed with any meaning or
8
significance except as setting the stage for this decisive event. There-
after, the meaning of history is linked to the expansion of Chris-
tianity, the conversion of pagans and Jews to the new gospel, rein-
forced, if necessary, by the just war. St. Augustine does not recoil
from is to be realized and made
the sword where the sense of history
manifest, any more than do Hegel and Marx. The meaning which
is intrinsic must be made extrinsic and evident.
The conception of history as the stage upon which the Christian

world conquest is to be enacted remained dominant throughout the
Middle Ages. We need not concern ourselves with some of the in-
teresting features of this outlook as it directed the knightly prowess
of Europe to the conquest, above all, of the Holy Land, of Palestine
8 TheCity of God. Reinhold Niebuhr, in The Nature and Destiny of Man, II, Hu-
man Destiny, argues in a similar vein as the text, but stresses (rightly) that "history
is an 'interim* between the first and second coming of Christ" (p. 51). Weare
neglecting the dimension of the problem of history resulting from grace which Nie-
buhr stresses. Niebuhr argues that because "among the signs of the end there will be
wars and rumors of wars" (p. 49), the symbol of the second corning "refutes every
modern liberal interpretation of history which identifies 'progress* with the Kingdom
of God," and that the growth of evil and good are paralleled and equipotent in
Christian history. This is an overstatement of a good point, it seems to me; certainly
progress cannot be "identified" with the Kingdom of God, but what is the meaning
of the apostolic mission if a certain kind of progress, namely, that of converting men
to the Christian faith, is not envisaged as the essential content of history in the
**interim"?
the homeland, the cradle of the event that lent meaning and signif-
icance to all of history. It is a fascinating story, but one which remains
completely embedded within the sense of history and historical

mission which St. Augustine had constructed.
When the aging Church was challenged by Luther and the Ref-
ormation, this aspect of doctrine remained unaltered. In Luther's
view, war against the Turk was just, and the HandwerJ^ of the
soldier as honorable and worthy of a Christian as any other. 9 The
workings of Providence did not undergo serious challenge at the
hands of Calvin, either. The early reformers, attached as they were
to Augustinian views, readily accepted his over-all view of history as
a meaningful unfolding of the Christian mission. Only, of course,
the true doctrine now became that of their interpretation of the
Word. Thus war, we have seen, when employed to spread
just as the
Gospel, now acquires a new significance in connection with the con-

flicts which the challenge of the reformers precipitated. The Augus-
tinian readiness to sanctify wars for the faith against heretics and
infidels, when applied by both reformers and their opponents in the

established Church, evidently carried with it the potential of pro-
tracted religious wars. The urgency of the task of ascertaining the
meaning of history, the extent to which this meaning was made

manifest in history's very progress, intensified the bitterness of these
wars which culminated in the period of the so-called Counter Ref-
ormation. 10
Wor\s, ed. H. H. Bordherdt and Georg Mens (1931), V, 75-124; see also ibtd.,
9
pp. 29-74. See also Karl Holl, Gesammehe Aufsatze (192128), "Die Geschichte des
Wortes Beruf," III, 189-219, and the passages cited in my Inevitable Peace (1948),.
pp. 98 fiF.
10 At this point, it may be well, by way of a footnote, to lay a ghost that has
haunted many as a result of the deplorable tendency of scholars nowadays to use
history for purposes of propaganda itself a tendency associated with the West's
unique concern with history and its meaning. It is the ghost of Luther, the anti-
Semite. Actually, Luther was, of course, utterly unconcerned with racial issues. To
him, the converted Jew was as much a Christian as anyone else, perhaps more so. We
have a striking letter written to Bernard, a converted Jew, in 1523. After pointing out
the wickedness of the usual procedures in conversion, as employed by the popes, Roman
priests, monks, and universities, Luther writes: "They give the Jews not a single
spark of light or warmth, either in doctrine, or in Christian life. . But when the
. .
golden light of the Gospel is rising and shining, there is hope that many of the Jews
will be converted in earnest and be drawn completely to Christ .
, now that you
.
are baptized in the spirit, you are born of God. I hope that by your labor and example
A startling intensification of the Old Testament sense of history

appeared in the Puritan revolution in England. The Puritans liked
to think of themselves as the twelfth, that is to say, the lost tribe of
Israel. A
number of surprising statements were made in this con-
nection, all intended to show that the English people were called
upon to fulfill the mission which the Old Testament had assigned
to the Jewish people. When the revolution broke out in earnest at
London in December, 1648, at Pride's Purge, the password of the
revolutionaries was "To your tents, Israel!" Divine intervention could
be counted upon to take care of especially difficult situations. Crom-
well's famous Ironsides were deeply conscious of a historical mis-
11
sion.
It would be rewarding to trace the further evolution through
Bossuet, Vico, and Montesquieu, but we must concentrate upon the
philosopher of history par excellence: Hegel. Divine providence and
intervention, the finger of God in history, were completely adum-
brated and fulfilled in his philosophy of history. Hegel, as is well
known, interpreted history as the manifestation of the world spirit as
it works to realize freedom, and freedom to him means self-fulfill-
ment. Absolute freedom is death, but relative freedom is will, and

only the will is free. We
cannot here enter upon the difficult dialectics
of Hegel's conception of freedom and its realization in law and the
12
state. Suffice it to stress the indubitable fact that Hegel undertakes
to restate the meaning and significance of history in rational terms
Christ may be made known to other Jews, so that they who are predestined may be
called and may come to their king David, who feeds and protects them, but who is
condemned among us with incredible madness by the popes and Pharisees." (See
Correspondence, ed. H. H. Bordherdt and Georg Mens, II, 181.) In this sense must be
understood the extravagant fulminations against the Jews which we find in the writ-
ings of Luther, whose extremely violent language is quite in keeping with that used
by Luther against the Roman Catholic Church, its ministers, or, for that matter, Duke
George of Saxony, Erasmus, or the rebellious peasants. The distortion of Luther's views
can be most conveniently studied in E. V. von Rudolf's Dr. Martin Luther , Wider die
Juden (1940), a veritable cesspool of Nazi "manipulation" of historical evidence.
11
See, for further detail, my The Age of the Baroque (1952), pp. 300 &. Cf., also,
Eugen Rosenstock, Die Europaeischen Revolutionen (1931), pp. 256 ff.

12 Cf. Herbert und die Grundlagen einer Theorie der
Narcuse, Hegels Ontologie
GeschichtlichJêit (1931), and a later English version, Reason and Revolution Hegel
and the Rise of Social Theory (1941); and Franz Rosenzweig, Hegel und der Stoat
(1920).
ioo What History Teaches
radically at variance with the conception of St. Augustine. (Vico had

some of this sense of history, but since he retained the notion of a
cyclical movement and did not
interpret history as a unilinear pro-
gression in time with a beginning and an end, his ideas do not belong
here.)
In connection with the well-known formulas about "world history
as the world court" and "the ruse of the idea," Hegel envisages all
13
history as a meaningful unfolding of the spirit. However, a dif-
ficulty presents itself
unfolding which
about has given rise to
this
numerous controversies about his eschatology. At the end of his

philosophy of history, as reported by his students, Hegel declares that
world history is the real development of the spirit, and that this in
turn the true theodicy, the justification of God in history. Con-
is
versely, in his own Proofs of the Existence of God, Hegel makes this
historical evidence the basis for proving the existence of God as a
concrete reality. He feels at the same time that only such insight can
and show that what hap-
reconcile the spirit with historical reality
pens every day not only does not happen without God, but is in its
essence the work of his hands.
There a beginning to this history, or rather there are two
is
distinctly differentiated beginnings. There is the beginning marked

by the appearance of written records, signalizing the spirit's first be-
ginning of self-consciousness, and there is the second beginning,
marked by the coming of Christ. Hegel's philosophy of history has
an end, too, but here there are uncertainties. The end, if there is any,
is at hand in Hegel's time: "The owl of Minerva begins her flight
14
when dusk is falling . . ." But the end that Hegel is heralding is
13 This notion of the ruse of the idea has a double root in Burke and Kant. Burke
speaks of the "tactic of history" in a celebrated passage and Kant spoke of a "List
der Natur," or a ruse of nature. In discussing the Idea for a Universal History with
a Cosmopolitan Intent (1784), he developed the notion of a hidden plan of nature
which would would enable mankind to develop all
realize a "perfect constitution" that
evident that nature has, to some extent here, taken the place of God,
its faculties. It is
and the "end" of history has become "immanent" in it. See, for the text, my The
Philosophy of Kant (1949), pp. n6ff.; and, for further comment, Inevitable Peace,
chap. II. There is an unresolved conflict in Kant's thought, because history is made
part of nature, but the end of history is clearly in the realm of norms.
14 From the
preface of Hegel's Philosophic des Rechts. The passage is found in my
Israel and the End of History joi
the end of the Christian era, or of the kind of

culture, in any case,
which had crystallized in the preceding
ages. Hegel is very emphatic
upon the point that the philosopher who interprets the spirit cannot
speak of the future, only of the past; and here, too, his strong sense
of history is manifest. He tells us that there are
signs that a new age
may be dawning, led by America or maybe by Russia, but that these
futures are hidden in a mist which the
philosopher's contemplation
cannot dispel. The end that has arrived is the Christian monarchical
and constitutional state, where law
reigns supreme.
15
This state is
final as far as the effective of freedom under law is con-
organization
cerned. The mission is fulfilled, and this part of
history, the history
of Europe, is at an end.
But these familiar notions of
Hegel deserve to be made more
explicit in terms of our major theme. Since for
Hegel the world
spirit works through the spirit of successive peoples
(often rather
misleadingly called "nations," since nations, properly speaking, are
the subdivisions of the Western worlds, and the
great forward steps
of the spirit are not worked out in national
terms, exactly, but in
terms of what we nowadays call cultures or is
civilizations), Judea
given some treatment. This treatment, however, rather cursory and
is
wedged into the section called Persia, as a subdivision between Syria

and Egypt. Hegel commences the discussion by
stating that "the
selections,The Philosophy of Hegel (1953), p. 227. The other page references given
in the following footnotes refer to this readily accessible source. From it the student
can easily go on to the originals. Unfortunately, the Philosophic der Gcschtchte has not
yet appeared in the new Werke edition of the Meiner Verlag, now in preparation under
the editorship of Professor HofTmeister, so Georg Lasson's edition must still be con-
sidered standard. Regarding the various editions, see my introduction to The Philos-
ophy of Hegel.
15 The Philosophy of Hegel, pp. 152-58. Hegel has often been accused of glorifying
the absolutism of monarchical Prussia, and this astigmatism has been the basis of
much abuse. But apart from the question as to whether Prussia may properly be
described as absolutist in 1820, and I seriously question this interpretation, there can be
no doubt that Hegel did not see it as such. Rather, he conceived it to resemble the old
English monarchy, as idealized in, say, Burke or Bolingbroke, where the king was the
arch of the constitution, but where the representatives of the "orders" or "estates"
effectively participated in legislation. Nothing shows this attitude of Hegel more
clearly than the dismay with which he greeted parliamentary reform in Britain in
1831.
other people belonging to the wider union of the Persian Empire is

the Jewish people." Nevertheless, in spite of this seeming obscurity,
the place of fudea is a decisive one (as the Introduction to the Phi-
The spiritual aspect of man is,
losophy of History clearly indicates).
in the Jewish people, completely purified: "the pure product of
thought, the thinking-itself becomes conscious [of itself] and the

spiritual develops in its extreme distinctiveness as against nature and
any unity with nature." The light, which in the Persian religion had
been recognized as God, is, as he says, "the only one." Spirit thereby,
in Hegel's view, becomes the dominant being. This step is, therefore,
decisive. But this one God, the creator of all, is more closely defined
as the exclusive one. "This religion must necessarily develop this
aspect of exclusiveness, because only this one people recognized the

16
One, and therefore recognized by Him.'*
is All other gods are
false; we find no recognition that the idea of a deity is, after all, being
recognized in their being gods. Spirit this is Hegel's central point

separates itself fully from nature, and therefore nature is reduced to
something external and godless. Nature is merely ornamentation for
the greater glory of God. "Thought now is free by itself, and true
morality and law can appear; God is being revered by righteousness,

and righteous action is walking in the way of the Lord." 17 Upon
this basis Hegel discovers that here, for the first time, appears the
possibility of a historic sense: intelligence, prosaically, puts every-
its proper place. At the same time,
thing in Hegel notes the fact that
the keen Jewish sense of right and law, the severe rules of ceremony,
contrast sharply with Jewish aversion against the state. He suggests
that the state is not proper to the Jewish spirit. When there was
danger heroes arose, but for the most part the Jewish people had a
hard time defending itself.
The Hegelian approach to the Jewish role in history is of vital
importance in terms of our basic theme. For after an inspired treat-
ment of Greece and more especially of Periclean Athens, and an
16
Ibid., pp. 50 if.
17
Hegel professes that the Old Testament histories please him; Jewish history has
"great features"; but it is distorted because it lacks all sense for "the spirits of other
peoples."
unsympathetic one of Rome (the people with the unhappy conscious-

ness!), Hegel returns to Christianity as part of the discussion of the
Roman world. Rome is the world rent by sorrow over having been
abandoned by God. "Its general state seems like the birthplace, and
1S
its sorrow like the labor pains of another and higher spirit." This
higher spirit was revealed in the Christian religion. And in this con-
nection Hegel enunciates his crucial conception: "God is recognized
as spirit only, when He becomes known
as Trinity. This new prin-
around which world history revolves. Up to here,
ciple is the axis
and from here history goes on." Neither Greece nor Rome, however,
could provide the seedbed for this decisive event; it must be sought
elsewhere.
This gives to the Jewish people its world-historical significance and im-
portance; for from it has arisen the higher principle, that the spirit ar-
rived at the absolute self-consciousness. . . . We
find this destiny of
the Jewish people most clearly stated in the Psalms of David and in the
Prophets. Here the thirst of the soul for God, the deepest sorrow of the
soul over its faults, the desire for justice and piety constitute the content.
Of mythological representation is found at the very be-
this spirit the
ginning of the Jewish Books, in the story of the Fall.
Hegel thus places the Jewish people in the very center of his inter-
pretation of history. "Knowledge as the suspension of the natural
unity (of spirit and nature) is the fall, which is the eternal story of
the spirit." Only man is, through his spirit, by himself, and history
isthe unfolding of this, his eternal destiny. Truth consists in this:
that man through the spirit, through the knowledge of the universal
and the particular,comes to understand or to know God Himself.
This extraordinary vision of Hegel, whatever we may think of it,
was perverted by Marx and his followers. It was not only put upside
down, as Marx put it, in terms of a materialism as opposed to Hegel's
idealism, but more especially by a rejection of Hegel's concern for
law as the essential basis of the state, and by a rejection of the
Hegelian view of history as comprehensible only in regard to what
has already happened. But perhaps the difference is not as great as is
18 Ibid.,
pp. 8586. The quotations which follow are found on pp. 86 if.
sometimes assumed. The link between idealist and materialist in-

terpretations of history can be found in the fact that both propound
the proposition that historical development and its dialectics are the
result of the struggle of determinate historical groups the nations
or "world historical peoples" in the case of Hegel, the "classes" in
the case of Marx.
To Marx, in simplest terms, history is the history of class struggles,
19
and in these class struggles the true dialectic is embedded. This
interpretation, the metaphysics of which is perplexing, to say the
least, enables Marx in his own opinion to predict the course of his-
tory, that to say, to turn history into prophesy. Marx sees an end of
is
history, and, as everyone knows, this end is the sequel to the world
revolution of the proletariat and the consequent dictatorship of the
revolutionary masses and their leaders. What is this sequel? It is

some kind of spontaneous free cooperation of all with all, or, as the
Communist Manifesto puts it, "the old bourgeois society will be re-
placed by an association in which the free development of each will
lead to the free development of all." It also affirms that "public
authority will lose its political character." In other words, the state
will "wither away" and there will be an amiable anarchy of associa-
tional cooperation. The meaning of history is seen in the achieve-
ment of this "end state," and all the antecedent states of society find
their fulfillment and ultimate significance in being steps toward this
final goal. Thus, history, by achieving its end, comes to an end. The
Paradise of Biblical connotation has been brought down to earth, and
the salvation of man, instead of transcending all history, is envisaged
in his losing his identity in the collective bliss of mankind. The ter-
rifying practical results of this sort of dream have become all too
patent in our time. As against it, the action of a world federation of
constitutional states 20 seems a more acceptable end, and to this end
the creation of the State of Israel is vitally related. Indeed, the State of
Israel is the first state ever thus created by joint action of all the other
19 Deutsche Ideologic (1932), pp. 3536; Critique of Political Economy,
Cf., e.g.,
ed. Stone (1904), pp. 11-12; Cafital, I, 23-24 and 25. These are merely illustrative
of a point which is a recurrent theme in Marx and Engels, and which needs further
exploration.
20 Cf.
my Inevitable Peace, passim.
states. It is a manifestation of their will that each nation shall have
its own state.
We
cannot here pursue this line of
reasoning any further. Enough
has, hope, been said to show how vitally Israel once more is linked
I
to the sense and

meaning of history. Hegel's grand vision is incon-
ceivable without it. No
comparable conceptions have appeared since
that time, in spite of a veritable flood of
"philosophies of history." In
the works of Spengler and the unilinear
Toynbee, progression, his-
tory as a unique unfolding, has once again yielded to a cyclical and
pagan "eternal return," to use a striking phrase of Nietzsche's; al-
though Toynbee, a Christian, vaguely recognizes the need for a con-
necting link which he dimly outlines in his "myth" of the ascent. 21
This tale, however, is injected without any real anchorage in the
predominant philosophy of his work. In the meantime, under the

impact of Spengler and others, and under the impact of the anxieties
of the atomic age, a feeling has been
spreading that "history has come
to an end." Alfred Weber, among others, has made himself the
22
mouthpiece of such views. It is, as I noted before, also evident in
the "history making" of the official
propagandists. It is not merely a
question of an end in time, perhaps not even primarily of such an
end in time, but also and predominantly a question of the end as
pur-
pose and value, which leads to doubt about the meaning of history al-
together. Much more could be
said about this issue, if space
permitted
23
it. The a profound one; for the
"crisis" is
great eschatological
schemas themselves now appear in the garb of grand frauds,
big
21 Arnold
Toynbee, A now available in ten volumes),
Study of History (1934-54;
develops this point in the new
Vol. VII, after stating it in IV, 37. 'In a
moving
and poetic image, Toynbee says that the divine spark of creative power is instinct in
ourselves . . ." Cf. my Inevitable Peace, pp. 65-66.
22 Alfred
Weber, Abschied von der Bisherigcn Geschichte (1948), elaborated in
Der Dritte oder der Vierte Mensch vom Sinn des Geschtchtlichen Daseins
(1953),
where mass man as the fourth man, unspiritual and ahistorical, is juxtaposed to the
rationalman as conceived in the American and French Revolutions. The possibility of
a "common man" who is neither rational nor mass man but represents a potential
transcending both, as developed in my The New Image of the Common Man (1941
and later), is unfortunately not considered.
23 1 have since said something more on
this score in a paper for Confluence, en-
titled"Religion and History: Philosophy of History as the Expression of Religious Uni-
versalism and Imperialism*' (IV [April, 1955], 105-15).
liesby which astute propagandists for church and empire sought to
trap the unwary.
At this juncture in world affairs the State of Israel has come into
being. It has come into being as a result of the devoted labors of Jews
and Christians alike. It has come into being as a creation of the
United Nations. Israel is the first such creation in world history. If
we explore the thinking of those who worked in the years just past for
this end, we find them motivated in thought and feeling by the most
diverse antecedents. But the concrete challenge was the Antichrist of
Nazi persecution. It is difficult not to become mystical in the face of
these developments, and I shall pass over in silence certain specula-
tions which suggest themselves. The establishment of Israel has,
however, this patentmeaning: that history cannot come to an end
as long as Israel exists. The people in whose very being the sense of
history is embedded, to whose vast spiritual powers the challenges

are due which have put mankind on the road toward a universal
order of peace under law, is now visible as a concrete political entity
and a token of the order to which it owes its as yet highly precarious
existence.
This need not mean that "history as we have known it" may not
well be at an end. There abounds a very general feeling that the
violence of the last fifty years somehow signalizes a transition to a
new order of things. History may well be entering upon a new and
very different age, perhaps an "ice age" as one writer has suggested,
or an age of universal order under law. If the former, history will
cease to exist because it will be manipulated, records will be manu-
factured or destroyed; spiritually speaking, universal chaos will be
reigning supreme. If the coming age is one of universal order under

law, the role of Israel will be decisive. I attempted to demonstrate
this in a paper written in 1940, "Anti-Semitism
Challenge to Chris-
tian Culture." 24 In this paper I associated myself with Jacques
25
Maritain, who had elaborated the remarkable statement of Pope
Pius XI: "Spiritually we are Semites." That anti-Semitism was and is
a form of anti-Christianism I must take for granted here. What I am
24 Published as the
opening chapter of Jews in a Gentile World (1942).
25 AChristian Loo^s at the Jewish Question (1939).
concerned with is the view that "Israel is

assigned . within . .
secular history, a task of earthly activization of the mass of the

world ... it teaches the world to be discontented and restless. As
long as the world has not God, Israel stimulates the movement of
history." When anti-Semites abolish the Old Testament, re-edit the
Sermon on the Mount, and proclaim Jesus Christ an Aryan, they are
trying to destroy history, or rather (since that is impossible) to rob
history of its meaning and significance. This, in turn, means de-
stroying civilization as the West has known it. Conversely, the re-
establishment of Israel as the national home of the Jewish people
symbolizes and fixes this meaning and this significance. "But we are
still summoned to Sinai, as always," Rauschning, the ex-Nazi, wrote
in 1941, thus demonstrating the purifying role of the Jewish spirit
which Hegel noted. And in the German parliament's voting to
atone for the Nazis' persecution of the Jews by a vote of virtual
unanimity, the same historical meaning can be gleaned. There may
have been hypocrisy, but hypocrisy, as a French saying has it,
"renders homage to virtue by pretending it." The instances of such
responses could be multiplied.

The main issue is clear: Western civilization is distinguished by
itssense of history as a meaningful sequence of events. It owes this
sense to the Jewish people and their monotheism. In a world united
under law in a federation of states, the Jewish people were destined to
play a crucial part. This part they could not play without a state of
their own. Now that they have achieved it, the deeper significance
of the tradition of a history that has meaning has once again become
manifest.
PART III
THE NEW STATE

NATIONALISM AND INTERNATIONALISM
IN OUR DAY
ABBA EBAN
I should like to limit my comments to three aspects of my subject
in three different planes of international and spiritual experience.

First, the confrontation of internationalism and nationalism in the
world of political affairs. Second, the implications of internationalism
and nationalism in the region in which the State of Israel has risen
to renewed and independent life. And third, the issue of nationalism
and internationalism as a burning question of Jewish contemporary
history, and as the pivot of a controversy which has long agitated
the Jewish world, touching upon the very essence and nature of the
mission of the Jewish people in the world.
The historic controversy which has portrayed nationalism and

internationalism as opposite and incompatible concepts is perhaps
one of the most sterile and fruitless controversies of all ages. The
discussion has been fruitless because it has been rooted in a basic
fallacy: the two terms have been quite wrongly conceived in conflict
and antithesis. Yet in the very meaning of the word we are reminded
that internationalism is
nothing but a relationship between nations.
Just as the rights and the duties of individual citizenship fit a man
for service to the wider national community, so the rights and duties
H2 The New State
of nationhood are indispensable for any people which desires to serve

the wider universal cause. This is particularly true of our generation,
in which the sovereign nation state is the only recognized unit of
international life and therefore the only instrument for expressing
universal ideals in the practical sphere of human relations. The
United Nations is based upon the concept of synthesis between these
two doctrines, and it therefore comes into conflict with the concept of
world federalism or world government, which denies the validity of
separate sovereignty and which argues that an abandonment of the
national framework is an essential prelude to the creation of any
sense of universal solidarity. The drafters of the United Nations
charter at San Francisco took the contrary view. The universal so-
ciety must and should arise, but it should arise as the aggregate of
sovereign and independent national units. It was to be neither a
parliament of man nor a federation of separate peoples representing
individual facets of national and cultural experience.
There is a plausible doctrine which ascribes to the redemption of
the concept of national sovereignty all the failures, and they are
legion, which have attended the world in its efforts to create an

organization capable of expressing human solidarity and preserving
international peace. Yet surely if the peoples of the world are not
ready to surrender such degree of their sovereignty as is essential for

the preservation of international peace; if, even in the realm of inter-
national security, the individual sovereignty of states prevails against
the conscience of all mankind, how much less ready must our gen-
eration be deemed to be to embark upon a total surrender of its
sovereignty and to entrust the affairs of all the nations of the world
to some supernational, nonnational, Esperantist organization.
The defects and imperfections of international life do not arise
from the existence of sovereignty, but rather from the imperfections
and defects which have affected the exercise of sovereignty in the
sphere of international relations. The concept of a universal society
based not on uniformity but on diversity, the concept of a United
Nations uniting all the civilizations, traditions, and faiths, is both in
the spiritual and political sense a more fruitful concept than that of
Nationalism and Internationalism 113
a vast global society in which national differences are obscured. To
aspire to such a uniformity of government and of life is to attack the

very spark of effervescence in human culture.
Just as it would be from the cultural point of view a reactionary
move to abolish those distinctions of language, of literature, and of
art, to the human plant its infinite variety, so it would be
which give
wrong and retrograde to abolish the political sovereignties of peoples.
A people's political outlook and social organization are just as in-
tegral a part of its indigenous culture as are its language, its art, and
its is far from ap-
music. Therefore, while the international society
proaching the millennium of world peace, that failure does not reside
in any errors of organization. The basic idea of a collection of
sovereign states confronting each other within the framework of

equal obligations is the most progressive that the human mind can
conceive. National differences and linguistic varieties are just as much
a part of the cultural landscape of the world as mountains and val-
leys are part of its geographical fabric. To aspire to any abolition or

elimination of these differences and varieties is no more intelligent
than to wish that the earth would lose all its contours, all its height,
all its depths, and all its oceans.
Insufficient attention has been focused upon the possibilities of
international organization as an element in the cultural enrichment
of our age. The United Nations, apart from its political and economic
functions, provides a unique and challenging opportunity for the
clash and contact of all civilizations and traditions. Individual
political units representing Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Buddhism,

and even the aberrations of materialism all confront each other in
that single organization with infinite possibilities of creative inter-

action.
II
It is significant also that problems of nationalism concern the in-

mind with special and unique reference to what is
ternational called
the Middle East. I use this phrase of reserve concerning the Middle
H4 The New State
East because I propose to inject a heresy against the current assump-

tion that the Middle East is a cultural unit within which Israel
should seek its own integration.
The importance of the individual sovereign factor within the in-

ternational community derided too
is often by those who themselves
aspire to the domination of the total international scene. The heresy

of one language, for example, can easily be thrown into the world
as an abstract conception; but what hidden factors of national pride,
what deeply latent impulses of national competition, arise when the
question of the choice of an international language becomes im-

mediate? Is it really too harsh to state that universalism means in
modern life that all other nations and cultures should accept the
cultural domination of oneself? The
concept of the sovereign equality
of nations which might seem so unreal in the world of power does
possess certain stature and validity when examined from the point of
view of the cultural history of mankind. It is a fact that all the great
original revelations of human culture have come not out of vast con-
tinental empires, but out of small, coherent, and well-articulated
small states. Some of these considerations will assist us to under-
stand with a sympathetic and trusting spirit the recent phenomena
of national liberation throughout the Middle East.
The State of Israel came to birth in a region where political na-
tionalism has recorded signal advances in recent years. And yet it
has become common, especially in the United States, to ascribe the
present tensions in the Middle East to the suppression of this natural

impulse of national liberation which now convulses the Arab and the
Moslem worlds. I need hardly emphasize that it would be utterly
incongruous for the State of Israel to approach the national move-

ments which now agitate our area with anything but a basically
sympathetic spirit. Our own people, which won its liberty after an
arduous struggle against colonial rule, would be false to its own ex-
perience and own destiny if, having acquired its own liberty,
to its
it were grudging attitude toward the efforts of other neigh-
to take a
boring peoples to achieve their independence from foreign control.

Yet having said this, it is necessary to enter a reservation against a
tendency in many quarters to -accept with uncritical gratification and
eulogy the concept of effervescent Moslem nationalism. Not every-

body who assassinates his prime minister, not every student in Cairo
who throws a stone through the window of a foreign establishment,
is necessarily the
spiritual descendant of Thomas Jefferson or Robes-
pierre; and to nationalism, as to all other phenomena of human ex-
perience, the critical faculty should be ruthlessly applied. It is neces-
sary to examine the recent history of this area before accepting the
doctrine of suppression at face value.
Does an attitude of grievance and rancor really become the Arab
world? Has history in its broad lines of movement dealt harshly with
that section of thehuman race? Four decades ago, every Arab, I
might almost say every Moslem, upon the surface of the inhabited
globe lived in subjection either to the rule of the Ottoman Empire
or to the direct domination of colonial powers. The great Moslem
and Arab cultural traditions were nowhere the basis or the center of
independent political and economic life. What a vast and astonish-
ing transformation has come over this scene within such a brief
space of time! Today eight sovereign Arab states extend over a con-
tinental expanse of a million and a half square miles, embracing all
the centers which owe their historic fame to their connection with
the Arab and Moslem traditions. Cairo, Bagdad, and Damascus, the
scenes and the centers of the Caliphate; Mecca and Medina, the holy
cities of Arabia, the sources and origins of the Moslem faith today
all are capitals or centers of independent Arab societies. The imagina-
tion falters at the magnitude of the constructive opportunity which

has suddenly, almost overnight, been presented to the liberated Arab
peoples; and this unexampled good fortune in their political evolu-
tion has come to them less as a result of their own sacrifice and effort
than as a consequence of the intervention of international influence
in two world wars, and more recently as a consequence of the revival
throughout the world of sympathy for the expression of national

sentiment.
This concept of Arab nationalism as a movement which has ac-
quired almost unprecedented good fortune is essential if we are to
understand the moral and ethical basis of the relationship between
the Arab world and Israel and between the Arab world and the
n6 The New State
West. The West, which has many things to apologize for in the past,
has no need to stand in an attitude of defensiveness when it confronts
the Arab-speaking world. It is true that for four centuries under
Western control or indifference the Arabic-speaking world fell be-
hind the best levels of modern political and technological progress.
As far as the Arab world was concerned the French Revolution
might never have occurred, for the new revolutionary doctrines of
political equality and social justice which spread like wildfire through
Europe and later across the Atlantic made no impression whatever
upon the dark hinterlands of Arabia, which continued to organize
itself upon medieval feudal and totalitarian patterns. Similarly, as
far as the Middle East was concerned, the Industrial Revolution
might never have occurred. The great developments in human

technology which had revolutionized the horizons of material prog-
ress made no impress upon the squalor and suffering of the teeming
millions who dwelt in the subcontinent between the central Mediter-

ranean and the Persian Gulf. Thus, if we were to strike the balance
sheet at the end of the nineteenth century, an attitude of grievance

and injury by the Arab world toward the West would have had
ample historic justification. But all this has been swept away by the
bounty and the breadth of the liberation which the West, both
through the actions of individual powers and through those of in-
ternational organs, has now bestowed upon the Arab world. Nor is
there any reason to believe that this process is at an end. The fierce
waves of Moslem national sentiment continue to beat up against the
central and western Mediterranean, where it encounters the imperial
power of France. Libya is a recent entry into the international com-

munity. Eritrea and Somaliland, both predominantly Moslem states,
are to become independent not as a result of rebellion or sacrifice,
but through the pacific injunctions of the international community.
If this picture would mean that Arab nationalism does not have a
valid contemporary grievance against the Western world, how much
more striking is the balance of equity when struck between Arab
nationalism and Israel; for in a small corner of this vast domain,
within an area of 8000 square miles, the State of Israel has arisen in
a land immortalized by the annals of the Jewish people in its previous
era of independence. Israel need not invade the Arab world, neither
itseight sovereignties, nor its sixty million people, nor its vast sub-
continent rich with natural resources. But we need not and shall not
apologize for our 8000 square miles. It is the least debt which history
owes us. This planet passed from barbarism to
paganism and from
paganism to civilization at the
precise moment when it was touched
in Israel by the lucid radiance of the Hebrew mind. The country
which is now Israel owes any identity or luster which history con-
fers upon it to its connection with the ancient Hebrew tradition. No
people ever suffered more cruelly from the deprivation of its na-
tionhood or ever merited its restoration more.
Thus, if we are called upon to analyze the true causes of the crisis
of nationalism in our area, we cannot find them in any imagined
conspiracy by the Western powers or by Israel to deny the Arab
world its just patrimony. The crisis and the tension spring from im-
perfections within the body of this national movement itself.
The first of such defects is a conspicuous lack of altruism, for a
progressive nationalism would acknowledge to other national move-
ments the same prerogatives and rights which it asserts for itself.
Yet Arab nationalism concentrates its attention in its present phase
not upon the million and a half square miles which it has gained,
but on the 8000 square miles which have been justly withheld; not
upon the vast and lavish gift which has been conferred upon it, but
upon the small and single act of denial which Arab nationalism was
called uponassume in the cause of general international equity.
to
The territory is the only territory to which Arab nationalism
of Israel
in recent years has ever submitted a claim and seen that claim re-
jected, not once, but several times and not by Israel alone but by
the
organized conscience of the world.

Perhaps this obsession with the negative rather than with the
positive, with the small domain which has been denied rather
than
with the vast inheritance which has been bestowed, derives from a
failure of nationalism throughout the Middle East and Asia to un-
derstand the true scope and nature of its responsibility. It is a marked
and peculiar attribute of nationalism in the Middle East and Asia
that it concentrates exclusively upon the political aspect of national
n8 The New State
freedom. It aspires toward the external emblems o national freedom.

It demands with clamoring impatience the removal o the last vestige
of foreign control. It sets up the flag of political sovereignty as the
final objective of a national struggle. Yet behind the glittering fagade
of international freedom, the old social apathy, the old economic
inertia, the old squalor, the old poverty, the old illiteracy, the old
disease, the old nihilism, the old religious fanaticism, all linger on
unaffected by the transition from colonial domination to local sov-
ereignty or sometimes even aggravated by the removal of Western

control.
Dr. Charles Malik has written in a critical spirit that in the Middle
East political nationalism is innovated as a single creed commanding
total allegiance and exercising complete domination of the public

mind. a just criticism and perhaps it would not be an exaggera-
It is
tion to say that this contrast in the Middle East and Asia between
political success and social and economic irresponsibility is the root

of the tension which grips so vast a section of the globe. Men are
awakened to find that they can be politically free and yet lose
the essence of their freedom in the throes of squalor and want. Dis-
covering with a sense of shock and astonishment that the magic

panacea of national liberation has solved none of their individual or
social problems, they turn their backs in disgust and disillusionment
upon the very concept of national freedom, and create thus an atmos-
phere of fear, bitterness, and frustration in which antidemocratic
slogans may well make
swift headway. This disillusionment with an
abstract freedom has already undermined the cause of
political
democracy in the Far East, and unless Middle Eastern nationalism

adds social and economic content to its political programs, the same
inexorable processes of disillusionment and decay are inevitable there.
It is not within the power of Israel, isolated and boycotted by the
neighboring world, to exercise a direct influence upon the cause of

national movements throughout the Middle East, yet the barriers
which now divide us from our neighbors will not forever endure.
The power of a contiguous example should not be underestimated,
and if Israel succeeds (and it has not yet proved its success) in cre-
ating a synthesis between political freedom and social and economic

progress, it will have established a pilot plant which all Middle

Eastern nations might seek to emulate even above the temporary
rancors and hatreds of current relations in our area. If all nations in
our area will grant to each other the rights which they claim for
themselves, there will be harmony. If national movements will ad-
dress themselves to the creation of a fair society assuring individual
and collective welfare, the region can even come to know a measure
of prosperity.
Therefore, if we are asked, as so often we are, to define our at-
titude toward this turbulent phenomenon of Middle Eastern na-
tionalism in terms either of positive approval or of resistance, we
refute both extremes. Wedo not identify ourselves with those who
would discredit the very theme of national liberation by drawing at-
tention to some of the excesses with which national movements are
associated; nor, on the other hand, do we regard this as a vast
benevolent or Somewhere in between there can
irresistible flood.
and must develop a critical attitude toward national movements,

based not only upon initial approval of their aspirations but also upon
a steady scrutiny of their objects and their aspects. Middle Eastern
nationalism suffers from the lack of altruism and the absence of any
sentiment of social or economic responsibility. It ignores, too, the
general and wider interests of the international order and seeks to-
express itself by methods of unilateral assertion and violence which
are outmoded by the present age.
There was a time during the French and the American Revolutions
when liberal opinion had no reservations about national liberation
because it was sought by violent means, and historians have come to
applaud these revolutions and to draw a veil of forgiveness or even
of oblivion over the fact that initially they constituted movements of
violent secession. That is because until the present century there
existed no other way of securing the triumph of a national cause. If
you denied the right of forcible secession or of violent rebellion, you

denied the very aim and objective of national liberation. However, in
the modern world, violence and unilateral secession are no longer the
only avenues to national freedom, and by that very fact they lose
their right of appeal to the liberal mind.
120 The New State
It is true that conflict between the great powers has prevented the
United Nations from exercising its responsibilities for the mainte-

nance of world peace and security as the founders of the organiza-
tion envisaged and as its charter prescribes. But no such inhibition,
no such failure, no such impotence, has attended the work of the
United Nations in another vital sphere of international relations
the liberation of subject peoples and the creation of new units of na-
tional independence. Around the international table there are a dozen
peoples, mostly from Asia, which owe the impulse for their liberation
to the pacific processes of international judgment. Syria, Lebanon,
India, Pakistan, Israel, Indonesia, and Libya, shortly to be reinforced

by Eritrea and Somaliland, are all instances in which new units of
political independence have had their liberation either completely or
partially smoothed by the processes of international judgment. If
anything, the world might be accused of liquidating the previous

regimes of domination with excessive and even disorderly speed. For
that reason, it is a legitimate ground of criticism today, as it would
not have been in the nineteenth century, when a national movement
seeks to secure
its objectives
by force or by unilateral action without
even beginning to exhaust the procedures or the potentialities of in-
ternational deliberation.
It has become fashionable also to assert that Israel's aspiration is
for integration into the Middle East; that if it is not now a Middle
Eastern state by every circumstance of political and economic con-
nection, then that lack of Middle Eastern citizenship derives not
from its free will, but from the imposition of the neighboring world;
and that sooner or later it is its duty and its destiny to become a part
of the Middle East, flesh of its flesh and bone of its bone, to become
integrally and organically embodied in the political, economic, and

cultural life of our region.
If I venture to cast doubt upon this assertion, not merely from the
its impracticability, which all will
viewpoint of acknowledge at this
time, but from the viewpoint of considering it as an objective to be
aspired to or wished for, my reservations do not stem from any lack
of regard for the cultural potentiality of the Arab or the Moslem
world. As we well know from experience, the cultural and literary
tradition of the Arab peoples is something so rich, so versatile, so
lucid, that the contemplation of that culture can by itself constitute

a complete humanistic education. If the Arab peoples are culturally
impoverished at the present time, it is not because they possess no

spiritual riches, but because they have lost the habit or the experience
of access to riches which have been bequeathed to them and to which
they have the right of entry by virtue of the central fact that they
have preserved intact the language which is the expression and the
embodiment of that rich heritage. It is, therefore, not in any spirit of
anti-Arabism or anti-Orientalism that I can be suspected of ques-
tioning the validity of this orientation. Yet I suggest that if Israel
is now separated from the Middle East, we owe that separation not
only to the hostility of our neighbors but also to the very essence and
nature of our own national movement. We
are separate from the
region and will remain so separate by an act of our own will.

Let us examine this idea of integration in its individual com-
ponents. Do we seek to be economically integrated into the Near
East? Our very mission is to establish a form of society which will
bear no resemblance whatever to the forms and varieties of social
exploitation which are characteristic of Arab and Moslem society.
Do we aspire to thesame forms of political organization as those
which engaged the sentiment of the Arab world? Surely we are at-
tracted neither by the theocratic monarchies of the Arabian peninsula
nor by the protectorates or sheikdoms of the Persian Gulf, not by
those forms of republicanism in the Levant states in which assassina-
tion is the conventional method of changing prime ministers and in
which the parliamentary procedure reflects no kind and no condition
of public interest or educated popular concern. Neither the mon-
archies nor the republics of the Middle East offer us an atmosphere
of political organization in which we can seek integration.
In the sphere of culture, while paying all honor to the rich poten-
tialityof the Arab tradition, we come to Israel with the purpose of
reviving and maintaining the Hebrew Moreover, Israel

tradition.
possesses unique interests, the paramount

one of which is the net-
work of connections with the Jewish world in all the countries of the
Dispersion. This is something exclusive in particular to the State of

122 The New State
Israel; something which is entirely alien to the rest of the Near East.
We should not, therefore, look upon the separateness of Israel as a
transient phenomenon imposed by Arab boycott; it is imposed by
the essence, the desire, and the aspiration of Israel itself.
The idea should not be one of integration. Quite to the contrary;
Integration rather something to be feared. One of the great ap-
is
prehensions which afflict us when we contemplate our cultural scene
is the danger lest the predominance of immigrants of Oriental origin
assist Israel to equalize its cultural level with that of the neighboring
world. So far from regarding our immigrants from Oriental coun-

tries as a bridge toward our integration with the Arabic-speaking
world, our object should be to impose upon them through education

an Occidental spirit, to align these immigrants to our Occidentalism
rather than to allow them to draw us into an unnatural and un-
wanted Orientalism. The slogan then should not be integration, but
good neighborliness; not Israel as an organic part of the Middle
East, but Israel as a separate and unique entity living at peace with
the Middle East. What we aspire to is not the relationship which
exists between Lebanon and Syria; it is far more akin to the rela-
tionship between the United States and the Latin-American con-

tinent: relations of good neighborliness, of regional cooperation, of
economic interaction, but across a frankly confessed gulf of historic,
cultural, and linguistic differences. The things which divide Israel
from the Arab world are very often the most precious and the most
positive things which Israel exemplifies in its region. Nor should this
interpretation be understood as equivalent to a desire for Israel to be
regarded as an alien and foreign bridgehead in the area. There is a
technique and a spirit of cooperation which fall far short of organic
integration.
If Israel wishes to find an orientation within a region, if it wishes
to seek the most congenial world both for its political relations and
for its cultural links, I suggest that that orientation be found in the
word Mediterranean. Israel not as a Middle Eastern country, but as a
Mediterranean country. The Mediterranean is the only channel of
intercourse and contact between Israel and the rest of the world. All
Israel's commerce, all its connections, pass across that sea. If this is
true as a geographical fact, it is even more true as a historic and

The history of Israel has been powerfully affected, not
cultural fact.
by the currents of thought and action in what is called the Orient

in the Arabian Peninsula, in India, or in China since the earliest
days of Israel's independence, its crucial relationships have been with

the countries contiguous to the shores of the Mediterranean Sea. In
cultural terms the three cities of the Mediterranean world, Jerusalem,
Athens, and Rome, form the partnership out of which Western

civilization has flowed. There is, therefore, a certain logic in tearing
Israel out of its immediate geographical context. It is not only
geography which counts and determines the character of peoples

history and culture count no less.
The recent controversy which waged around the question of the
place of Turkey in the schemes of global defence is relevant to this

point. There was an effort on the part of certain Western countries
to remind Turkey of its Eastern and Moslem affiliations, to request
Turkey to play its part in the world as the leader of a Middle Eastern
community of nations, and, by implication, to claim no place in the
future Occidental world. It is, therefore, historically and spiritually
interesting to record the vehemence with which Turkey demanded

to be severed from its geographical background and to live, not in
the family of the Arabic-speaking states of Saudi Arabia, of Syria, of
Lebanon, and of Egypt, but to be regarded as the Eastern extremity
of the Western world and to live in the same strategic, political, and
cultural universe as Greece, Italy, and France. If Turkey by reason
of the Occidental emphasis of its culture and its institutions is able
to express that Occidental attraction, I consider that Israel has an
even greater right. If anything, Israel has no part of the Moslem
inheritance which would have argued in favor of Turkey's being
regarded as a Middle Eastern state.
There is, therefore, both a historic and a contemporary logic to*
ward the Mediterranean interpretation of Israel nationalism in the
modern world. First of all, we see a prospect of Israel's emergence
from a position of political and cultural isolation; for if Israel in
terms of the Middle East is an isolated country, in terms of the
Mediterranean it is not. With practically all the states of the Mediter-
124 The New State
ranean world, and certainly with those of the northern Mediter-

ranean, Israel possesses the closest and most intimate contacts of
diplomacy and trade. The Mediterranean orientation of Israel's na-
tionalism offers our state, too, a higher standard of cultural per-
formance and of social and economic organization on which to base
itself.
Ill
Finally, I should like to present a few observations on the concepts

of internationalism and nationalism as they affect Israel and the
Jewish world. The theory of antithesis between the universal mission
and the national mission was once in greatest vogue. And yet, I be-
lieve that at every stage of history those who argued in favor of this
antithesis were making a virtue of necessity. Since the Jewish people
lacked a national center, since it was deprived of the dignity and
pride of sovereign independence, there were those among us who
argued that the absence of these things did not matter and there were
others who went even further along the road of Reform and who
argued that lack of a national status was a positive asset. Here
Israel's
was a people abstract and disembodied, uncontaminated by the in-

evitable compromises of national and political responsibility, free to
let its mind and spirit roam in the great stratosphere of abstract
ideals, to carry to all the nations a kind of suffused and sublimated

hurt beyond the capacity or the ambition of mortal sovereign states.
Everybody will recognize in this analysis some of the excesses of the

Reform doctrine which made a pure necessity out of this allegedly
impure virtue of national freedom. The universal cause, it was said,
can be served as well, nay, it may even be served better, without
startingfrom the point of national identity.
Against this argument there arose the Zionist Movement, teaching
Zionism as an interpretation of Jewish history. Zionism as a political
movement is something entirely subsidiary to this far wider concept
of Zionism as a version of the destiny and the mission of the Jewish
people. It argued, with admirable foundation in Jewish tradition and

therefore with ultimate success, that the validity of a spiritual doc-
trine can only be tested in the actual arena of social performance and
international relations; that it is easy but valueless to uphold ethical
ideals in a vacuum; and that Judaism itself is a doctrine of practice.
The important thing is the accomplishment and the realization of
spiritual and ethical precepts on the hard ground of human and in-
ternational relations. It is this which proves the validity or the
obsoleteness of an ethical or spiritual system.
Strangely enough, and perhaps to our good fortune, the non-

Jewish world profoundly agreed with this interpretation. Perhaps the
greatest paradox of modern history is that the Zionist interpretation

of Jewish identity, which was looked at with such indignation and
fear precisely lest it should undermine the status and the popularity
of the Jewish people in the world, became the only movement in
Jewish life to obtain the authoritative ratification of the universal
conscience on two separate occasions within one generation, each
time against the fierce and vehement challenge of powerful and
world-wide interests. In other words, the movement known as
Zionism has so far furnished the only serious bridge of Jewish-
gentile collaboration in the sphere of social, political, or interna-

tional interaction. And
thus the State of Israel has arisen in testimony
to the triumph of a doctrine which held that the Jewish tradition
should not be disembodied, should not wander from place to place
home, should not assert its values in the vacant air, but
in search of a
prove them in the actual realm of political and social action.

The question arises, then: Where do we go from here? Does the
creation of the State of Israel constitute the final and absolute vindica-
tion of this interpretation of history? Does the very fact of the ex-
istence of a State of Israel really settle anything?
Within the terms which interest us here, the mere establishment or
existence of the State of Israel answers nothing and settles nothing.
What constitutes the final answer and the final settlement is not the
fact of the existence of a state, but the nature and the quality of that
state. What kind of political entity is this that we
have created
through the tenacity, the tears, the sacrifice, and the toil of two thou-
sand years? Is Israel just the sixtieth unit in the international com-
munity? Is it a state like other states which have newly arisen, with no
126 The New State
roots in past tradition and with no prospect of exemplifying any pro-

gressive ideals? The sound of the trumpets will die away,
the glitter
of liberation will wear off, and everything will depend both for the
people of Israel and for the world upon the quality of the state.
I believe that we have reached a critical turning point, a crucial
stage, to which some of the effort

that has heretofore been invested in
Israel's physical existence must now be devoted. The scientific, edu-
cational, and cultural picture in Israel cause for the gravest dis-
is
quiet. Although we are saved from provincialism by the brilliance of

our tradition, although the Hebrew language, our greatest single na-
tional asset, gives us the key to all the glories of the past, the State of
Israel has not yet proved itself in the ultimate category of quality. In
this vital respect, everything remains to be done, and the establish-
ment of the state is in every sense a beginning and in no sense a
consummation or an end.
I suggest further that the answer to this question of quality lies
along three lines. First, Israel must recapture its Hebrew roots. It
must establish among all its people a sense of direct and lineal descent
from ancient Israel of old, the source and the repository of all the
values which dominate Western civilization. If we were to begin on
a new slate as a new nation with no antecedents and with no lan-
guage behind it, we would be doomed for many decades, if not for
many centuries, to a life of novitiate sterility. If we can take our
starting point ia a spiritual and cultural system which is far in ad-
vance of the general level of modern performance, then Israel can
indeed be a light to the world.
The greatest act ofgood fortune which attended the liberation
movement out of which Israel grew was just this Hebrew revival,
the expression of the fact that the life of the new Jewish settlement
from very beginning was cast in the same mold as the spirit and
its
culture of Israel of old. (Of course, what we call Hebraism is a con-
cept far wider than that of language, although language is the key to
every single compartment of our cultural experience the key to his-
tory; the key to literature; the key to religion; the key to a prospect
o unification between the scattered tribes of Israel who now come
into our gates, and who but for the Hebrew language would forever
remain a generation of Babel; and, potentially at least, a key whereby
the people of Israel can seek access to partnership and solidarity
with Jewish thought beyond their borders.) It was not, therefore, an
accident that in the first impulse of statehood we cast our coins and
stamps, the emblems of new-won sovereignty, in a manner which re-
called the previous eras of Israel's independence. The choice of the
historic name Israel in place of all kinds of new inventive synonyms
was an act of deep and significant insight.
The second task before the State of Israel is the retention of its
]ewi$h roots. One of our most disquieting cultural problems is a sort

of spiritual and psychological gulf growing up between those edu-
cated and born within the atmosphere of the Israel system and the
rest of the Jewish world, a complete incomprehension of the historic
fact that the Jewish people underwent two thousand years of exile
and in returning to its homeland brings back not merely the scars
of that experience but also the carefully accumulated riches of the
Western and the external world. Therefore, the attitude of being
shamefaced in Israelabout the fact of gdut, of envisaging the new
community of Israel as a separate and somewhat pampered hothouse
tribe distinct from the general polity of the Jewish world, should be
resisted not merely for its utter lack of political realism but also be-
cause it is a culturally negative concept. If we have suffered the whips
and scorpions of exile, let us at least compensate ourselves with the
retention of those Western forms and concepts which we have ac-
quired; for ancient Hebrew civilization, with all itsdepth and

grandeur, was limited in scope. Ancient Hebrew Israel did not
flourish in the plastic arts or in the applied sciences; its genius was
exercised in a supreme but fairly constricted avenue of cultural ex-

And if through our contact with the West we are enabled
perience.
to enlarge therange of the original native Hebrew tradition, this is
not an opportunity to be lightly cast away.
But Hebrew roots and Jewish roots are not enough, and Israel has
every title and every right to enrich both its Hebrew and its Jewish
traditions by what I would call the products of modern Western
128 The New State
which the Hebrew spirit has pro-

civilization. It Is this civilization
foundly Western
affected. Nevertheless, man throughout the two
thousand years of Jewish exile has achieved results and standards of
political organization and technical progress which deserve to be
embodied in our tradition. In our concern with recapturing Hebrew
and Jewish roots, we must somehow avoid the dangers and pitfalls of
provincialism.
In a recent visit to the United States,Mr. Ben Gurion attempted
to interestsome of us in a new movement of literary ingathering.
His project and vision was to ensure that the Hebrew reader should
have access not merely to the fruits of the Hebrew genius but also
to the best products of the Western mind, to the basic documents of
Western civilization to Greek and Roman literature, to English
literature, and to aU the literature of Persia, India, and Europe. He
proposed that within the space of a few years we should undertake

a movement to translate these works, a movement perhaps no less
significant than that which the Ibn Tibbon family undertook for
different reasons in another age, in order to ensure that the people
windows into the
of Israel should be able to look out over the widest
most distant and inspiring horizons, into all the nooks and crannies
of the Western mind. To the degree that we succeed in interesting
Jewish opinion in this project, we shall be able to judge whether or
not there is a genuine perception and insight by the Jewish world
and by the Israel public into the real challenge and the real danger
of our cultural destiny the challenge of progress and the danger of
Emitation and provincialism.
If I were asked to summarize the true compatibility in Jewish
thinking between a national and a universal mission, I should only

have to go back as far as the first diplomat of Israel, the founder of
Israel foreign policy, the author of nonidentification the Prophet
Isaiah who brought his mind to bear upon this problem of main-
taining an independent State of Israel amid the clash of stronger and
more powerful empires, and who had these words to say:
Yea, He saith: "It is too light a thing that
thou shouldest be My servant
To raise up the tribes of Jacob,
And to restore the offspring of Israel;

I will also give thee for a light of the
nations,
That my salvation may be unto the end of
the earth."
ISAIAH 49:6
Here we have the concept of national missions and international

destiny interwoven in a single statement and illustrating the utter
interconnection between the two. You want to be a light unto all the
nations excellent! But first of all, there is the small matter of
creating some basis of national life and cohesion for the Jewish peo-
ple itself.
Alternately, if you think
enough engage upon this
it is to
purely national mission, there is beyond it the wider possibility of

being the light unto all the nations.
THE EMERGING CONSTITUTION
OF ISRAEL
YEHUDA LEO KOHN
The draftsman o a modern constitution finds himself in an in-
finitely more complex situation than that which faced his predeces-
sors in the great periods of political reconstruction in the eighteenth

and nineteenth centuries. We
live in a world which is far removed
from the noble declarations of the rights of man and the sovereignty
of the people which inspired the framers of the first democratic
constitutions in America and Europe. In the century and a half
which has elapsed since the first stormy enunciation of those stirring
doctrines, the theory and practice of democratic government have

undergone severe tests. The constitutional framework of representa-
tive government has not proved effective in restraining the arbitrary
power of the unrepresentative few: the party caucus, the bureauc-

racy, the autocratic cabinet, the more powerful autocracy of vested
interest. From such failure, hostile generalization has been quick to
deduce the inherent fallacy of the democratic principle and to assert
the claims of the competent minority or the efficient dictator. Much
of the spadework that preceded the advent of the totalitarian regimes
was done by pseudo-scientific criticism of this nature. We came to
learn how effectively the structure of democratic government can
be exploited for its own undoing, how easily authoritarian tendencies
can enter the body politic even in old established democracies. In the
light of that bitter experience the uncritical acceptance of the tradi-
The Constitution of Israel 131
tionalmodels of representative government which was in vogue a

generation ago has now given place to searching analysis.
It is true, of course, that the principle of popular sovereignty rep-
resents no more than the general, sometimes merely the nominal,
basis of democratic government; that at its lowest it connotes little
more than the pouvoir du dernier mot. Its effective realization in
the organized life of a community depends on a variety of factors,
of which the civic maturity, the educational standards, and the eco-
nomic freedom of its members are the most fundamental The mere
establishment of a democratic constitution is as little a guarantee of
effective self-government as the proclamation of fundamental rights
can be regarded a permanent safeguard of personal liberty.
This, however, cannot detract from the importance of the insti-
tutional factor in both these spheres. The machinery of a constitu-

tion is something more than a technical device for registering the
fluctuating impulses of a hypothetical popular free will. Through its

agency, the political will of a community is not merely elicited,
but constructively shaped. The momentum of the processes is in-
herently creative. It is, indeed, by the preponderance of its creative

over its mechanical function that the merit of any constitution must
be assessed.
Constitutions are written under widely divergent circumstances.
It is characteristic of all constitutional settlements that arise from a
political upheaval that they endeavor to ensure the newly won lib-
erties by their incorporation into the organic law of the state. Every
revolution aims at anew balance of power, at a new sense of security.
The radical break of historical continuity, the sudden loss of a time-
honored tradition, compel the framers of the new order to protect
by formal enactment what as yet possesses no unwritten guarantee
in the civic consciousness of the community.
Yet revolution is not the sole cause of the writing of constitutions.
Sometimes, as was the case in the United States, it is the welding to-
gether of existing political entities in a new federal framework that
gives rise to a great constitutional enactment. A
constitution may
also be drafted to shape the life of a state where previously there
jj2
The New State
tion. Such was the case when the Pilgrim Fathers on the Mayflower
made their historic covenant or when the Puritans who left Mas-
sachusetts in 1639 adopted the Fundamental Orders of Connecticut.
Here, incidentally, a very significant contribution of ancient
lies
Hebrew thought to the constitutional law of the modern world. For

the concept of the political covenant, as exemplified in the first con-
stitutions of the American states, derives directly from the ancient
Hebrew covenant between God and the people, on which was based
at a later stage the covenant between the king and the people, as
after the revolt
mentioned in the story of political reconstruction
in the Second Book of Kings (11:17).
against Queen Athaliah
In this matter, as in so many others, the case of Israel is sui generis.
It is a new state, as new in its way as the political community which
the Pilgrim Fathers set up in America; but Israel is not a new coun-
is certainly a people with a history. If
try and the Jewish people
its constitution is to command the enduring loyalty of its citizens
and
the respect of Jews throughout the world, it must be rooted in the
tradition which constitutes the timeless heritage of the whole

spiritual
House of Israel That tradition is of very specific and
significant char-
acter. Its spiritual basis is the monotheistic conception of God invis-
omnipotent, one and indivisible, the embodiment

of absolute
ible,
justice, the
Ruler of the universe, the Father of man. The projection
of that conception in the moral sphere is an austere code aiming at
the sanctification of matter by the creative force of the spirit. Its
ultimate goal is the establishment of the Messianic Kingdom, em-
all the
bodying a rule of universal justice freely acknowledged by
children of men. From its early beginnings, Judaism has aimed not
merely at individual perfection but also at the shaping of a social

order. It is concerned not only with the salvation of the soul but also
with the political community in which that soul has its roots and
The tradition were definitely
being. great figures of our spiritual
hewn in a political frame. They aspired to the evolution of "a king-
dom of priests and a holy people," ruled not by kings or priest-kings,
as was the practice all over the ancient East, but by the Deity alone
in the
perhaps the boldest effort ever conceived of shaping reality
of the absolute. Judaism is a design for molding the life of a
image
community in accordance with the dictates of a higher order: kind-

ness to the poor, but justice to be accorded equally to the rich and
the poor; the sanctity of the Sabbath, but no less so the holiness of
the working day; freedom of contract, but, above that, the greater
freedom of the Sabbatical and the Jubilee Years which restore liberty
to the slave and give back to the poor man his lost heritage such
are its characteristic prescriptions. Returning to active political life
after centuries of Dispersion and disintegration, the citizens of Israel
are faced again by that timeless challenge. The State of Israel is
being rebuilt under modern conditions. It cannot but adopt the

institutional forms and by which alone the mass
civic conceptions
life of a modern
political community can be organized. But if these
forms and conceptions are to have more than a transient meaning,
they must strike roots in the deeper recesses of the soul of the people.
It is not by abstract declaradons but by the infusion of the Hebrew
spiritual tradition into its functional framework that the constitution
of Israel can alone be rendered Jewish, can alone be rendered safe.
In setting up a framework of government, the builders must neces-
sarily proceed from existing realities. The structure of politics in
Israel isthe outcome of developments that go back several decades.
From the very beginning the new Jewish community life in Pales-
tine had enjoyed institutions of political, economic, educational, and
local self-government.There were the local committees of the colo-
Judea and Galilee, the elected assembly,
nies, the regional councils of
the Vaad Leumi (the parliament of the Jewish community) and its ,
executive organ. A significant training in the art and responsibility

of self-government was also provided by the experience of the co-
operative settlements in the rural areas. Democracy in Israel was

not imposed from without. It formed an integral part of the life
of the new society long before the latter had attained independent
statehood.
In the course of this development, a highly diversified party system
had sprung up. Its basis was in significant measure ideological; its
organizational framework national rather than local. One thing, par-
ticularly, deserves to be noted: the parties in Israel are not of the
inchoate character of so many parliamentary groupings in Europe.
I34
The New State
and their atti-

They have clearly defined programs and viewpoints,
with
tudes to any specific problem that may arise can be anticipated
a fair measure of This introduces an element of stability
accuracy.
which Is absent from many democratic countries where party atti-
tudes to critical issues are sometimes susceptible of sudden
and funda-
mental change. The volume of what is commonly known as the
small in Israel. The basic feature of the
floating vote is comparatively
structure has not
changed even under the impact of the
political
tremendous Immigration of recent years. Indeed,
one of the most
of the political system is the ease with which the
significant features
new immigrants have found their place in the existing party structure.
Among the elements that have contributed to the evolution of the
mention must also be made of the formative in-
political structure,
fluence of the Zionist Organization and its parliamentary and execu-
tive organs. In giving to the Zionist Movement a parliamentary plat-
and
form, Herzl not only bestowed an unprecedented dignity
he had created but also
authority on the Jewish world organization
a training school in the modes and usages of democracy
provided
for those who were to set up the Jewish Commonwealth. For good
and bad, the Zionist Congress has been a powerful factor in molding
the political Institutions and parliamentary forms and practices of
Israel.
of these several forces and Influences
against the background
It is
that the problem of setting up a machinery of democratic govern-

ment for Israel has to be viewed. The drafting of a constitution be-
came a even before the state was established. In the
practical issue
historic resolution passed by the General Assembly of the United
Nations in November, 1947, the adoption of a written constitution
embodying a parliamentary system of government was envisaged.
Among the many tasks connected with the planning of the state,
the preparation of a draft was taken up almost at once. The task fell
to me, in my capacity as political secretary of the Jewish Agency,

because I happened to be a constitutional lawyer by training and had
in former years busied myself with the constitution of another, not
unproblematical country, that of Ireland. The draft was prepared

during the siege of Jerusalem, and was subsequently considered by
the Law
and Constitution Committee of the Provisional Council of
Statewhich issued it as a state paper together with various amend-
ments adopted by the committee. Inasmuch as it has influenced sub-
sequent developments, I have to present here a brief summary of
its
provisions.
The
draft constitution consisted of a preamble, a bill of rights, and
what in the old American usage was called a "frame of government."
In the bill of rights an effort was made to live up in some measure
to the spiritual tradition of Judaism. The sanctity of human life and
the dignity of man were

postulated as major objects of the state's
solicitude. The
death penalty was to be abolished. The application of
moral pressure or physical violence in the course of interrogations
was forbidden and evidence obtained by such methods was not to be
admissible in court. Preventive detention by executive order was
prohibited, except when authorized by specific legislation in time

of war or
national emergency; but the administration of such ex-
ceptional laws was to be subjected to continuous parliamentary con-

trol. The establishment of military courts to deal with civilians was
prohibited altogether. The draft embodied similar guarantees of the

inviolability of the dwelling and the secrecy of private correspond-
ence. Anytemporary suspension of these guarantees in times of na-
tional emergency was to require specific legislative authorization and
be subject to parliamentary control. Elaborate provisions were de-
signed to safeguard the freedom of conscience and the free exercise
of religious worship, as well as the rights of all religious groups with
regard to their holy places and the administration of their religious
properties. There were, furthermore, the traditional guarantees of
the freedom of speech, assembly, and association; but these were not
to extend to publications, assemblies, and associations avowedly aim-
ing at the suppression of human rights and the subversion of the

democratic form of government a provision designed to preclude
the abuse of democratic freedom for its undoing. The draft pro-
hibited the extradition of any person to a foreign country where he
was liable to be deprived of the fundamental rights guaranteed in
the Israel Constitution. It further comprised a number of economic
and social postulates, such as the establishment of a national health
136 The New State
insurance and the provision of state-supported primary and secondary

education to Jews and Arabs in their own languages and cultural
traditions.
The structural design of the draft constitution followed the model
of Western parliamentary democracy. In the relevant articles an
effort was made to steer a middle course between the English pat-
tern of cabinet government and the continental system of rule by
parliament. Legislative authority was vested in a single-chamber

parliament sitting for a period of four years. It was not to be dis-
solved except when the President found it impossible, upon the
resignation of a cabinet, to secure an alternative government com-
manding the support of a stable majority in the existing chamber.
This provision was designed to discourage the wrecking tactics
which have brought so much discredit on the democratic system in
countries where there is no clear-cut two-party system. The recruit-
ment and maintenance of the armed forces and the conclusion of
treaties with foreign states were expressly subjected to parliamentary
control. In the judicial sphere, an effort was made to break new
ground by providing that judges should be appointed upon the
recommendation of a selection board consisting of members of the
bench and the bar, the permanent head of the Ministry of Justice,
and members of parliament. The Supreme Court was to be invested
with the power of the judicial review of legislation. A comparatively
easy mode of constitutional amendment was proposed which would
incidentally check any abuse of the power of judicial review. Assent
of two thirds of the total membership of the chamber would be re-
quired, but the amendment was not to come into force unless passed
in two successive sessions. This was held to be a sufficient safeguard
against rash amendment, but, on the other hand, not too complex a
method to delay necessary change.
The draft constitution was the subject of considerable public de-
bate. It was envisaged that the draft and the amendments proposed
by the Provisional Council of State would be discussed at an early

stage by the first elected parliament of Israel, the Knesset. In the
meantime, a provisional framework of government had come into
being. It consisted of a Provisional Council of State composed of
thirty-seven members, and a Provisional Government comprising

thirteen members of the Council. These temporary authorities re-
mained in power until February, 1949, when the Knesset was con-
vened.
The first substantive enactment made by the Provisional Council of
State was the Law and Administrative Ordinance o May 19, 1948,
which provided for the transfer of authority from the Mandatory to
the State of Israel. The law hitherto in force was maintained except
insofar as it was repugnant to the new order. The Provisional
Council of State was to legislate and fix the budget. The Provisional
Government was to be responsible to the Council. The municipal
corporations, local council, and other local authorities were kept in
being. Similarly, the existing judicial system was continued in force.
On January 25, 1949, the first parliamentary elections were held in
Israel. They were conducted on the basis of proportional representa-
tion, the whole country forming a single constituency. Pursuant to

the Election Ordinance passed by the Provisional Council of State,
the franchise was granted to every man and woman of eighteen
years and over living in Israel. Every person of twenty-one years of

age was eligible for election. The number of representatives was
fixed at 120. The first Israel Parliament was opened in Jerusalem on
February 14, 1949, by Dr. Chaim Weizmann, the President of the

Provisional Council. Two days later, the Knesset elected him Presi-
dent of the state. The Provisional Government submitted its resigna-
tion and, following consultations with representatives of the various
parties, the President charged Mr. David Ben Gurion, the leader of
the Israel Labor party, with the task of forming a new government.
A coalition government, composed of the Labor party, the United
Religious Bloc, the Progressive party, and the Sephardim, thereupon

took office.
The first statute enacted by the Knesset was the Law of Transition
of February 16, 1949, which represents for the time being the basic
constitutional enactment of the State of Israel. It defined the mode of
promulgation and publication of laws, the method of election and the

functions of the President, and the manner of appointment and
tenure of the government. The question of the enactment of a con-
138 The Neus State
stitution came up for discussion during the early months of 1950.

It appeared that while at the beginning there had been practical
unanimity in favor of the adoption of a written constitution, opinion

in authoritative quarters had hardened during the intervening
months against this course. It was widely felt that the time had not
yet come for such a decisive step. The development of the young
state was still in flux, with thousands of immigrants entering every
month, and it was urged that there should be a greater measure of

consolidation before an organic law was enacted. The precedent of
the unwritten British Constitution was largely quoted by the sup-
porters of this view, who included many lawyers trained in British

traditions. Objections were raised, in particular, to the proposed
introduction of the judicial review of legislation. The apprehension
was also expressed that lengthy discussions on fundamental religious
and social questions such as are inevitable when a constitution
comes to be worked out might be detrimental to that national
unity which all responsible quarters were anxious to see preserved
during the formative period of the state.
As against this view, the protagonists of a written constitution

made out a strong case in favor of its early enactment. They urged
that this would enhance the authority and stability of Israel A state,
they asserted, was all the stronger if its constitutional framework was
not easily amendable by transient parliamentary majorities. Such
rigidity would also work out as a safeguard for minority rights. The
fact that the new immigrants were coming from countries with
widely divergent standards and systems was cited as an

political
additional argument in favor of fixing constitutional practices and
terms by a comprehensive enactment. The educative effect of a
written constitution, both in shaping the political mentality of the
newcomers and in training the youth of the country in the modes
and habits of democratic government, was adduced as a further rea-
son for such an enactment.
The debate was not conducted on party lines. There were divided
counsels in more than one camp. In the end an interesting com-
promise was reached. It was decided in principle that a written con-

stitution should be adopted, but that this should not take the form
of an immediate comprehensive enactment. For the time being, only

a number of fundamental laws should be passed. These would sub-
sequently be consolidated into a written constitution. The rationale

of the decision was to fix the target while not imposing upon the
country, during period of growth, the restrictive framework of a

its
rigid constitution. There would be a series of basic laws to be tested

during a formative period in which all kinds of constitutional usages
and practices might spring up. Thereafter, these laws would be re-
vised in the light of the experience gained and a written constitution
enacted.
It is along these lines that the development of a constitution has
since been proceeding. A
number of constitutional laws have been
enacted by the Knesset. They relate to the election and functions of
the President, the appointment and resignation of ministers, the mode
of parliamentary elections, the rights and immunities of members,
the establishment of the defense services, the organization of the
law courts, the appointment of judges, the establishment of the office
of the Comptroller General, and a number of kindred subjects. To
the substantial structure thus set up, significant additions have been
made by parliamentary usage and administrative practice.
Parliament
The Israel Parliament consists of a single chamber composed of

120 members
elected by secret ballot. Every person of eighteen years
and above, registered as a resident, is entitled to vote. Every person
of twenty-one years of age legally resident In the country is eligible
to the Knesset. Judges are not eligible. Members of the civil service
and the army are eligible, but are suspended from their official duties
for the duration of their membership in the Knesset. Elections are
held In the whole country on the same day, which is declared a
public holiday. For the voting, the country is divided into electoral
and polling areas, but in determining the results, the whole country
Istreated as a single constituency. Any group of 750 persons and any
party in the existing Parliament may submit a list of candidates. The

distribution of seats is fixed in accordance with the principle of
140 The New State
proportional representation. When a member resigns

or dies, he is
succeeded by the next candidate on the party's list. Members may,
however, secede from their respective parties and join other groups
or form a new party.
The and working methods of the Knesset correspond in
functions
general to Western parliamentary models. It provides the personnel

of the government, elects the President of the state, enacts laws, fixes
the national budget, imposes taxes, passes votes of confidence and
censure on the government, appoints the Comptroller General, etc.
The Knesset has adopted the continental system of standing com-
mittees. There are nine permanent committees: General Purposes,
Finance, Economics, Foreign Affairs and Security, Education and
Culture, Home Affairs, Law, Public Services, and Labor. The func-
tion of the committees is to consider draft bills and draft regulations
and other such matters as are referred to them by the Knesset. In
addition, it may appoint ad hoc committees of inquiry into special
matters raised in debate.
Legislative Procedure
Legislative initiative lies with the government, but individual

members or parties may introduce private bills at fixed times. The
allocation of time also rests with the government, but members and
committees may propose the inclusion of special items in the agenda.
Each bill passes three readings. The first reading is introduced by a
statement of the minister concerned or the chairman of the com-

petent committee, setting forth the contents and purpose of the bill
A full discussion ensues, at the end of which the proposer replies to
questions raised in the debate. The House may reject the bill out-
it for consideration and
right, or refer report to the competent com-
mittee, or return it to the Cabinet for amendment. In committee,
amendments are passed by majority decisions, but dissident members
may bring up their points again at the report stage. The bill as
amended then goes back to the House, both majority and minority
views being reported. It is voted upon clause by clause. This is fol-
lowed by the third reading, when a vote is taken on the bill as a
countersigned by the Prime Minister or another minister, and pub-

lished in the official Gazette.
Standing orders of the Knesset have been evolved empirically. The

Knesset has a Speaker (chairman) and four vice-chairmen. The
Speaker's ruling on any point of procedure is binding, but members
may subsequently appeal against his decision to a Rules Committee
consisting of seven members. The seating arrangements in the House
follow the continental model. Members sit in a semicircle facing the
Speaker's dais, the Cabinet table being in the center. Members ad-
dress the House from a rostrum below the Speaker's chair. Jewish
members address the House in Hebrew, Arab members in Arabic.
As the latter are few in number, a Hebrew translation of their
speeches is read immediately after delivery. Hebrew speeches, on the
other hand, are translated simultaneously and picked up by Arab
members through earphones.
The immunity of members of the Knesset is safeguarded by elab-
orate statutory provisions. They are not liable to search, imprison-
ment, or criminal proceedings, nor to military service. They receive
remuneration for their services in the Knesset, and are prohibited
from receiving a salary from any other source. Sessions are held in
public, but in special circumstances the public may be excluded by a
decision of the House upon the motion of the government or the
Speaker. At the beginning of each session, ministers reply orally to
questions addressed to them in writing. No statutory rule exists on

the subject of dissolution. The term of the Knesset has been fixed by
convention at four years, but when the breakup of the first Coalition
Government in February, 1951, created an insoluble impasse, the
House was dissolved by a resolution supported by all parties, fixing
the date of the elections. If this precedent were to be followed in
the future, it would mean that the Knesset could be dissolved
neither by the President nor by the government, but solely by its
own decision.
The President
The position of the President of Israel resembles in general that

of the President of the French Republic. The President is elected by
142 The New State
the Knesset and holds office for five years. He promulgates the bills
passed by the Knesset, appoints the diplomatic representatives o

Israel, receives foreign diplomatic envoys, and signs treaties with
foreign states after their ratificationby the Knesset. In all these
matters he acts on the advice of the Prime Minister or the com-
petent minister. The President
is also invested with the prerogative
of mercy. Israel was fortunate in having as its first President the

revered figure of Dr. Weizmann, who bestowed a unique dignity
and authority on the presidential office. His successor, Mr. Ben Zvi,
is one of the veterans of the Second Aliyah, which has made so dis-
He was for many years
tinctive a contribution to the rebirth of Israel.
President of the Vaad Leumi,
the representative body of Palestine
Jewry during the Mandatory era. In that capacity Mr. Ben Zvi de-
voted special interest to the problems of the Oriental communities in
the country, which has given him a unique popularity among these
groups who now form a significant part of the population of Israel.
The Government
The Israel system of government conforms to the continental
model of parliamentary democracy. The President, after consulting
with the leaders of the parliamentary parties, charges one of them
with the formation of a government. His choice is not limited to the
members of the Knesset. He may
include outsiders, who then enjoy
full ministerial rank except that they may not vote in the Knesset.
It is only after the government has presented itself in the Knesset
and received a formal vote of confidence that it is regarded as fully

constituted. It retains power for the duration of the Knesset unless
it resigns or is defeated by a vote of censure. The number of ministers
is not fixed. The present Cabinet consists of sixteen members, of
whom one is not a member of the Knesset. Ministers are entitled to
appoint deputy ministers from among the members of the Knesset.
The Prime Minister forms the keystone of the governmental struc-
ture. He presides over the meetings of the Cabinet, coordinates the
activities of the several departments, and keeps the President in-
formed on all major questions of domestic and foreign policy.
There has been a marked development in the sphere of local gov-

ernment. The property qualifications formerly restricting municipal
and village franchise have been abolished. All persons of eighteen
years and over, resident for six months in any area, are entitled to
vote, and residents of over twenty years are eligible for election
all
to municipal and local councils. During the past year, elections were
held to forty-three municipal and local councils, in which 80 per cent

of the electorate took part.
The System of Judicature
Israel took over the judicial system of the Mandatory regime, but
has effected a number of significant changes. The system comprises
a Supreme Court consisting of the Chief Justice and six judges sitting
in Jerusalem; three District Courts sitting in Jerusalem, Tel Aviv,
and Haifa respectively; and eighteen Magistrate's Courts. Originally
the justices of the Supreme Court were appointed by the govern-
ment on the recommendation of the Minister of Justice, subject to
approval by the Knesset. In this matter a reform was recently effected

by the Judicature Act, 1953, in which a proposal of the draft con-
stitution was embodied. Under this act, the higher judges are ap-
pointed by the President of the state upon the recommendation of

an Appointments Committee presided over by the Minister of Justice
and consisting of three judges of the Supreme Court (including the
Chief Justice), two ministers, two members of the Knesset chosen
by secret ballot, and two members of the bar elected by the Council
of the Israel Bar Association. It would seem that such a mode of
selection should rule out any party patronage or undue influence of
the government on appointments to the bench. It should be added
that judges hold office "during good behavior," but are required to
retire on pension at the age of seventy. The institution of single-
judge courts has been abolished. Both the Supreme Court and the
District Courts sit with not less than three judges. The former rule
that cases against the government can be instituted only with the
consent of the Attorney General has been repealed. In addition to
their judicial duties, the judges also serve as chairmen of various
1^4 The New State
tribunals, such as the Shipping and Mercantile Tribunal and the

Anti-Profiteering Tribunal
The Israel courts have maintained a-
high standard of judicial in-
dependence. The principle of the rule of law has been strongly up-
held. The writ of habeas corpus and the other prerogative writs are
freely available. The order nisi procedure

has been constructively
developed in the higher courts and has proved an effective safe-

guard of the rights of the individual and of minority groups. As
Israel is a republic, there has been a tendency to rely on American
rather than on English precedents in deciding such fundamental
issues.
Such in brief is the present constitutional structure of Israel The
characteristic failings of the parliamentary system in countries where
no two-party system exists have been experienced in Israel as else-
where. Government by coalition inevitably deprives the parliamen-
tary system of much of its dynamic force. Proportional representation
makes for a multiplicity of parties. The abuses to which this system
lends itself and the weakness which it produces at the seat of the
government have of late given rise to various suggestions for a con-

stitutionalreform designed to curb the rise of small parties and to
concentrate parliamentary control In the hands of larger groupings.
These proposals raise issues of great complexity. Proportional repre-
sentation, once established and generally accepted, cannot be lightly

scrapped, though it can be improved, as was done in various Eu-
ropean countries, along the lines of the single-transferable-vote sys-
tem or kindred devices. Nor can the political maturity reflected in
the two-party system be achieved by restrictive legislation. In the
countrieswhich enjoy the benefits of such concentration, the growth
of the system has been the result of developments going back many
centuries. Political concentration in Israel, as elsewhere, will grow to
the extent that the people come to realize that it is well worthwhile
making concessions on smaller issues if thereby a united front can

be established on fundamentals.
It is, I believe, a gratifying indication of the vitality of the young
democracy that these questions are being actively discussed, not only
by the political parties, but also by unofficial study groups, debating
circles, and learned societies, in which members of all parties take

part. Efforts are now
concentrated on devising a mode of election
which, while enabling every significant section of public opinion to
be represented in parliament, would at the same time ensure stability
ofgovernment and produce a closer contact between the electorate
and members of parliament than is possible under the system of
proportional representation now in force. Israel has come to realize
that, like many other democratic countries, It will not have a two-
party system for some time to come and, therefore, must endeavor to
turn government by coalition into a stable and effective instrument
of executive action.
Constitutional development, as will be seen from this summary,
is stillin flux. Israel is going through a testing period of trial and
error. It is beset by many problems and difficulties, but in the hearts
of its people is the vision of the ideal polity which men ever dream
of setting up on earth. They are like the wanderers in the mountains
who see the light of day rising on the peaks while the shadows of the
night still cover the approaches in the valley. There is still much
chaos and perplexity, but a spirit of high endeavor pervades the
scene. Therein lies our hope.
3
A DEMOCRACY IN AN
AUTOCRATIC WORLD
JACOB ROBINSON
The "world" I will attempt to describe in this paper is the Israel-

Arab area: the
democracy Israel; autocracy reigns in the rest of
is
the region. The challenge to a democracy presented by an environ-

ment supporting a political philosophy diametrically opposed to
democracy is of a serious nature and has to be met. 1

I am
not unaware of the interplay between social, economic, intel-
lectual, and
religious factors as well as political ones
in the shaping of
political institutions and practices. However, an analysis of all these

elements in our area would require much more space than I have at
my disposal. Moreover, not even all the elements of government (e.g.,
the present position of human rights in the Arab states) can be dealt
with. I have therefore restricted myself, particularly in the discussion
of the situation in the Arab area, to a number of symptoms of stabil-
ity or instability, without inquiring deeper

into their causes and im-
plications. What follows can therefore be described as a study in
political symptomatology.
In the first part of my paper I shall try to demonstrate that Israel
is a democracy. In the second part, I shall demonstrate that our

1 The views
expressed here arc those of the author and do not commit in any way
the Government of which he is a representative. This paper is the result of a study
on the comparative government of a vital area, but does not contain the material on
which it is based. The nature of the presentation makes it impossible, also, to give
all the necessary references.
146
A Democracy in an Autocratic World 147
neighbors are in substance, if not in form, autocratic. In the third

synthesize the results of the inquiry and briefly discuss
part, I shall
the challenge of an autocratic environment to a democratic society.
I. Israel: A Democracy
It is generally accepted that a
democracy, in the formal sense of
the word, is a regime under which a certain public order is estab-
lished and maintained by the will of the people as expressed in free
However, the experience of the last thirty years has taught

elections.
us that a parliament elected on the basis of universal suffrage is
sometimes capable of establishing or endorsing an autocratic regime.
In other words, the suppression of democracy can be achieved by
democratic procedures. Therefore, it is clearly to be seen that a
definition of democracy as a procedure is insufficient, since, theoret-
democratic procedures may result not only in a democ-
ically at least,
racy but also in the establishment or tolerance of a totalitarian regime.

If so, what then is the difference between democracy and autoc-
racy? The difference is not one of procedure alone, but also of

substance. Unless there is the rule of law and not of men, unless cer-
tain minimum human rights are guaranteed, unless there is the right
to differ and still be equally entitled to enjoy all the benefits of gov-
ernment, there is no democracy.
Democracy by very nature cannot be static, but must provide
its
for its own

change. Democracies need not always adhere to those
standards which were adopted at the moment of their establishment.
Democracy may change. And it is the methods provided for the
change of government and for its evolution in accordance with the
ever-changing requirements of life which constitute perhaps the most

serious difference between one regime and the other. If there is peace-
ful change, the regime is democratic. But if the change is not peace-
ful, and accomplished rather by acts of violence, by coups d'etat, or

is
by assassinations, then, even if there exists procedural democracy,

even if there is a certain guarantee of human rights, the regime is
not a democratic one. If in a period of crisis a democracy cannot solve
its problems by democratic means, then it has failed as a democracy.
148 The New State
But if a democracy is capable of solving new problems within the

framework of certain forms, maintaining all the while certain
guarantees for the individual, its vitality is beyond question. Trans-
lated into terms of modern political realities, this means, on the
positive side, the preponderance of political parties as defined by

Edmund Burke ("A body of men united for the purpose of pro-
moting by their joined endeavors the public interest by some prin-
ciple on which they all agree") over "mass movements" and the
mob, and negatively the elimination of the army as a political
factor.
Finally, in addition to these objective criteria, there must be on the

part of the people themselves a belief in democracy. If there is no
such faith, if there is on their part no readiness to make sacrifices for
democracy or pay the price of democracy, then there will be none;

to
or at best there will be one which can crumble at any moment.
Let us now consider Israel in the light of these criteria. In so far
as procedure is concerned, Israel is clearly a democracy, one which
began as far back as 1897 with the first Zionist Congress. The nucleus
of its population consists of the same 650,000 Jews who settled in
Israel in the pre-independence period and who have gone through
the school of democracy in the Zionist Movement and in the Jewish
National Council in Palestine. There is no other
training for democ-
racy but democracy; there is no other school of self-government but
self-government. In the first seven years of Israel's independence,
the principle of free elections on both the national and local plane
has been maintained almost without disturbance.
Israel is, too, a
democracy in the substantive sense of the word,
and there are factors which have contributed to this. The first
two
is the British legal tradition, with its basic principle that if one has
a grievance against the government, he may go to the high court of
justice which administers the prerogative writs, outstanding among

them the writs of habeas corpus, prohibition, and mandamus. These
procedures have been inherited from the British Mandatory gov-

ernment; they are written in no book. There is even no special law
which explicitly states that Israel has undertaken to respect this
British legal tradition.
The second factor assuring the protection of human rights is the
Supreme Court. It is to the honor of the public and government of
Israel alike that they have unhesitatingly accepted the idea of the
Supreme Court's maintaining a certain degree of control over gov-
ernmental action. Israel's Supreme Court is, moreover, one which is
independent of the administration. It is a court to which have been

appointed the best jurists in the land, each of whose appointments
has been confirmed by the Knesset. It is a court which has behind it,
the authority of knowledge and learning; second, the confidence

first,
of the government; and third, the public's confidence, expressed by

the vote of the Knesset. A
new law on the appointment of judges was
passed by the Knesset in August, 1953, which, while modifying cer-
tain procedures, does not affect the substance of the above statement.
Asfor the question of peaceful change, up to the present time
record on this score has been satisfactory, but it is too early to
Israel's
pronounce judgment on this aspect of the problem since she has not
as yet been faced by a real crisis.
Nevertheless, if there has been no real political crisis in Israel, she

has met and dealing with a series of four political challenges.
is still
The first such challenge has been presented by the ingathering of

the exiles, the problem of receiving into the midst of a society of
650,000 people with a tradition of democratic government, new-

comers from all parts of the world. Most of these exiles have come
from two blocs the African-Asian bloc, where there exists no re-
spect for democracy, no faith in democracy, and no tradition or prac-
tice of democracy; and the bloc from the displaced persons' camps,
a group completely disoriented from the realities of modern life, hav-
ing lost faith in the dignity of the human being and the peaceful pro-
cedures of human life. How
is it possible, we were asked, to assimi-
late them, to instill in them a faith in modern democratic ideas, and

to generate in them the will to create, together with you, a new
democracy in such an uncongenial part of the world? This is a chal-

lenge which, I may say, Israel is meeting.
The second challenge is the challenge of proportional representa-
tion (having its roots deep in the history of the pre-independence
nucleus of the Jewish population in Israel) or, at least, the challenge
150 The New State
presented by its excesses. It is not possible here to go into the tech-

nical details of the concept, but proportional representation developed
to its logical consequences is one o the greatest enemies of democ-
racy. Democracy can best thrive under the regime of two parties,
not under a regime of fifteen parties. It is to be noted, unfortunately,
that this challenge still stands. The results of the elections to the third
Knesset (August, 1955) have even further emphasized the general

lack of sympathy for substantial changes in the election law.
The third challenge concerns the residuum of violence in Israeli
society. There never has been any justification for violence in public
life, but there are some periods during which it is almost impossible
to prevent it. There were under the Mandatory
acts of violence
regime. Unfortunately, there have also been acts of violence under

the present regime, the three most notable examples of which were
the assassination of Count Bernadotte, the attempt on the life of
Minister of Communications Pinkas, and the blowing up of the
Soviet Embassy in Tel Aviv. But what is most unfortunate is that
forces of violence are still alive in Israel today, and not even in the
worst sections of her population, but in certain sections of her youth.
Israel's ability to meet this challenge will decide the future of democ-
racy there, and it is
government has taken
comforting to see that the
a very strong stand with regard to any eruptions of such unlawful
acts. It is planning to undertake, too, a strong educational program
in order to put an end to the survival of political methods and ideas

which were adopted temporarily under conditions of storm and stress
prior to the emergence of the state.
The fourth challenge is the most serious of all. In the very be-
ginning of independent existence, the problem was posed as
Israel's
to how it would be possible for Israel to maintain democratic pro-

cedures and to respect human rights when she does not have a single
frontier that can be crossed, when she is surrounded on all sides by
enemies. There has rarely been a case in history where, with every
frontier guarded by armed forces, democracy could be maintained
within a country. Jordan has only one such armed frontier, but all
her other boundaries those with Syria, Iraq, and Saudi Arabia
are open. The same is true with regard to Syria, Lebanon, and
Egypt, not to speak o Iraq, Saudi Arabia, and Yemen. Israel is the
only modern state able to boast that its only open frontiers are air and
water.
Insecurity is a factor which operates against democracy. Insecurity
and democracy do not live together, no matter what the amplitude of
reasons for insecurity may be in each particular case. In Israel's case,

the great need for security is something which might have brought
her to the verge of some autocratic regime. In fact, it has had no in-
fluence at all on democratic procedures there, except in two particular
areas, not to mention, of course, the legitimate censorship on security
matters. The area involves Israel's frontier population. Israel is
first
not yet able to treat her frontier population as she treats all other
elements of her people. She cannot really offer the Arabs living on
the border allthe protection she would like to. However, even in
this case the Supreme Court has taken a strong attitude. Whenever it
has appeared that the interests of security were not really in danger,
it has taken the position that human rights were of prime considera-
tion. The second area has been that of self-government. For a num-
ber of years the ideal of complete self-government was unattainable
because the Nazareth region, a boundary region, was ruled by the
military. Recently, however, military rule there was brought to an
end, although it is discouraging to note that the first steps in the
direction of self-government have been far from successful.
Thus Israel has solved a number of problems facing its democratic
way of life. The very fact of the uninterrupted operation of formal
and substantive democracy in a young state surrounded by enemies,
and facing in addition tremendous problems of a social, economic,
and cultural nature, is in the eyes of the whole world a respectable
achievement. But one challenge still remains, and that is the chal-
lenge presented to a democracy by an environment which is anti-
democratic.
II. Factors of Political Instability in the Arab World
Let us turn now to the world in which Israel exists geographically,
that which is usually called the "Arab world." It includes the two
152 The New State
Oriental autocracies, Saudi Arabia and Yemen, and the "modernized"

2
Egypt, Syria, Iraq, Lebanon, and Jordan. In discussing this "world,"
I will concentrate principally on the events of the last six or seven

years, making some excursions
from time to time into less recent
history.
Yemen and Saudi Arabia are, as I have stated, traditional Oriental
autocracies, theocratic monarchies; they are the only countries in the

world which permit legalized slavery. The only change in the gov-
ernment of these two countries in the past few years has been in
Yemen. Suddenly, so the story goes, conspirators, including one of
the numerous sons of Imam Yahya Hamid ad-Din, who was not
only a king but an Imam, became aware of what was happening
around the world. They said they had a reactionary king, and they
found a solution for this evil assassination. In February, 1948, the
Imam, and some of his advisers were killed. The

three of his sons,
eldest son, Sayf al Islam Ahmed, became King of Yemen on Febru-
ary 25, 1948. The real power was, however, in the hands of Abdullah
el-Wazir, but he, too, fell victim to a countercoup engineered by
Emir Ahmed. An abortive coup d'etat against Imam Ahmed was
engineered in April, 1955, by his brother Abdullah, who, along with
other leaders of the revolt, paid for it with his life.
As for Israel's other neighbors, we find in their case a seemingly
different picture. The difference is, however, to a certain extent only
in appearance. Territory, population, and political organization are
known from schoolbooks to constitute the three basic elements of a
state. Let us glance rapidly at the first two elements before concen-
trating in greater detail on the third.
TERRITORY
The quo of some of the individual Arab states is

territorial status
constantly uncertain,on the one hand because of the tendency for

greater Arab unity, and on the other because of the dissatisfaction
with existing boundaries expressed by the local nationalists in some
of these countries.
For example, Lebanon was a small Christian enclave within the
2 is of too recent origin to merit consideration in this con-
Libya's ''independence"
text.
Ottoman Empire. The French, however, desiring a more friendly

group in Syria, attached some Moslem areas to Lebanon, separated
Lebanon from Syria, and in this manner ended up with a country
consisting of an uneasy Christian-Moslem balance, further disturbed
(from the Christian viewpoint) by the presence of thousands of
Moslem refugees from Palestine. Should Lebanon exist or not? Some
influential people in and outside of Lebanon say no, others disagree,
leaving the question of the future of Lebanon, or even of its size, a

painfully touchy subject.
Is Jordan a modern sense of the word? Will the
state in the
Hashemites be with having two separate states (Jordan and
satisfied
Iraq) or would they prefer one? Is Syria satisfied with the annexa-
tion (or reannexation or disannexation) of the Sandjak of Alex-
andretta (Hatai) to Turkey? Has it been decided that, let us say,
three or four of these states should become one, or that some day a
new state would emerge called Kurdistan, combining the Kurdish
elements in the area? Such a lack of any sentiment of finality re-
garding an important phenomenon in our

territorial distribution is
"world," even if the Arab League seems to be (on paper) strongly in

favor of maintaining the boundaries which now exist.
POPULATION
One of the primary bases of a modern state is a population which
feels itself to be a single nation, even though it
may be divided along
religious, linguistic, or racial lines. A state is the result of the loosen-
ing of those ties which in the past prevented unification: the tribe,
the denomination, the hereditary class, the local community. But it
is precisely these earlier social bonds which remain so powerful in
the Arab states and which tend to constitute a tremendous obstacle
to the formation of a true nation. On the other hand, the current
desire for a Pan-Arab Federation may have a retarding influence on
the formation of local nationalism.
INTERNAL POLITICAL ORGANIZATION

It is generally accepted that a constitution is a stabilizing factor in
the political life of a country. In all the "modern" Arab states, with
the exception of Egypt, where the constitution has been abrogated,
154 The New State
we find wonderfully written constitutions: they provide for all the

human rights, for governments which are answerable to parliaments,
and for an independent judiciary. But the fact is that these constitu-
tions are merely ephemeral. There is not a single constitution which
has survived its originators. That of Egypt, for instance considered
to be the most solid of all these states was first enacted in 1923; in
1930, a second was enacted; in 1935, the first constitution was re-
stored; on December 10, 1952, General Naguib abrogated the 1923
constitution; and on January 12, 1953, a fifty-man committee was

appointed to draft a new one. On May 5,
the constitution committee
approved a proposal that a republican system of government should

form the foundation of the new constitution. On March 6, 1954, AH
Maher, head of the committee, declared that a constituent assembly
would be elected within three months and take over from the revolu-
tionary military regime. This statement was confirmed by the Presi-
dent, General Naguib, and three weeks later by the Revolution
Command Council, which fixed the date of July 24, 1954, for the
transfer of sovereignty to a constituent assembly. Four days later,
its
all these concessions were revoked. A new draft constitution was sub-
mitted by Ali Maher on August i, 1954. On May 19, however, Colo-
nel Nasser promised a national parliament for January, 1956, in a
form reminding one of the fascist "corporate states.'*
Such frequent change of constitution is due partly to insufficient
time of adoption and the ensuing need for adjust-
reflection at the
ment, and partly, too, to reasons extraneous to such considerations.

The constitution of Iraq of March 21, 1925, was amended twice, in
1925 and 1943. Lebanon's constitution of May 23, 1926, was amended
five times, in 1927, 1929, 1943 (twice), and 1947. Syria's original con-
stitution was replaced by a new one in 1950, confirmed by a manipu-
lated plebiscite on July 10, 1950, and replaced again by an octroi con-
stitution made public on June 21, 1953? and confirmed by a plebiscite
on July 10, 1953. Finally, the 1950 constitution was restored following
the expulsion of the then President Shishakly.
King Abdullah of Jordan, a man of great talents and possessed of

a realistic mind, believed a constitution to be necessary and promul-
gated one on February i, 1947. However, he soon became dissatisfied

with the power o the throne was limited by this con-

fact that the
stitution, and after his assassination on January 3, 1952, a new con-

stitution was promulgated.
The second element generally assumed to be a stablizing force in
the political life of a country is the head of state. And although in
the area under discussion there exist at present two monarchs, King
Hussein of Jordan and King Feysal II of Iraq, both young men just
returned from school in England and both members of the Hashe-
mite dynasty, the weakness of monarchy in the modernized Arab
state is illustrated by the tragic fate of its past
kings and their suc-
cessors. Abdullah of Jordan, as I have noted, was assassinated, and
King Farouk of Egypt was made to abdicate at the point of a pistol

I may also add without
any improper insinuation that Iraq's first
and second kings, Feysal I and Ghasi, died unexpectedly.
Nor has greater stability been exhibited by the presidents of
the republics. Since the revolution in Egypt, the office of President
has been in a state of constant flux, and Syria, since the end of
World War II, has had six presidents (two men holding office twice),
two coups and one assassination. Lebanon, which constitutes
d'etat,
a special case in the Arab world because of Christian influence and
the constant fear of being absorbed by one of her neighbors, has had
fewer elected heads of state than others in the area. Sheikh Bechara
al-Khoury was elected President on September 21, 1943. He was re-
elected for six years on May 27, 1948, but was forced to resign on
September 18, 1952, following a two-day strike. Following his resig-

nation, Camille Chamoun Pan-Arabist, like his predecessor was
elected second President of Lebanon. The irony of the situation is
that this apparent stability is due to a breach of the Constitution
(Article 49), which expressly forbids a second consecutive term, and

to the fact that the same group of parliamentarians who, by a some-
what doubtful legal device, rushed to reelect Bechara al-Khoury, sud-
denly discovered him to be the source of all evil in the country and
deposed him, again contrary to the letter of the Constitution.
The third stabilizing element in any state is its parliamentary
system, and the effectiveness or ineffectiveness of the operation of a
parliament reveals itself in four different ways: it is demonstrated
156 The New State
in the place by die holding of elections at set intervals estab-

first
lished by law, or by the fact that dissolutions of parliaments before

the appointed time are the exception rather than the rule.
In the light of this proposition, the facts in the Arab states are as
follows. In Lebanon, the first Parliament elected survived its term of
office, terminating on April 8, 1947, when new elections were held.

The same is true with regard to the second Parliament, which
lasted through the September "Rose-water" Revolution. But the third
Parliament, elected in April, 1951, was dissolved on May 30, 1953.

In Syria, the first Parliament was dissolved on December 19, 1948,
and under subsequent coups d'etat the Parliament was factually
eliminated. Elections took place in September, 1949, during another
coup d'etat, but the Parliament was nonetheless dissolved after Presi-
dent Shishakly's second coup on November 29, 1951. Elections to a
new Parliament were held on October 9, 1953; but less than a year
later, following the resignation of Shishakly, still another Parliament
was elected.
As for Jordan, we find that in the course of seven years (beginning
in 1947) it had four elections, in 1947, 1950, 1951, and 1954. None of
these parliaments completed its term of office. Egypt has had ten
elections since 1924. Between 1923 and 1936, the Parliament was
summarily dismissed three times; in the years 1924-26, the country
was ruled by royal decree; and in the years 1928-29 and 1930-34 it
was ruled by the dictatorial cabinets of Mohammed Mahmoud Pasha
and Ismail Sidky Pasha, respectively. In the total twenty-eight-year
picture, then, Egypt has been without a Parliament for seven years
and under a nonrepresentative Parliament for twelve years because
of manipulated elections or highhanded changes of constitution.
Finally, in Iraq, only the Senate was regularly renewed* And as for
the Chamber of Deputies, it has had fifteen elections. Only one of
these chambers completed its full term.
A second test of the stability of the parliamentary system is the
freedom and honesty of the elections. On this score we have the
word of authoritative sources in Egypt, Iraq, and Lebanon to the
effect that the elections in their countries were, as a rule, falsified;
that in many cases the reelection of deputies has been the result of
the bribing of voters, patronage, and intimidation. Moreover, the

elections themselves were in the majority of cases tumultuous and
acts of violence.
accompanied by During the Lebanese elections of
July, 1953, meetings were banned following the throwing of a bomb
into a Beirut churchyard which injured thirteen persons. Neverthe-
less, despite the ban more violence took place only three days later.
One of the candidates was assassinated during the campaign by
someone hired by his political opponent. During the 1953 election in
Iraq, for another example, all existing parties were abolished and
half of the seats were uncontested. The subsequent two elections
were held with no guarantees of fairness. In the October, 1953, elec-
tions in Syria all opposition was muzzled, and in Egypt the boycott
of the elections by the Wafd, the strongest political party, was a
usual feature in its fight against the king.
The third factor determining the effectiveness of the parliamentary
system is the interest of the population in the elections. The per-
centage of voters going to the polls in Egypt, for instance, has been
estimated at between 25 to 30 per cent, and in the January, 1953,
election in Iraq, only 15 per cent of the electorate voted.
Finally, the last factor contributing to the stability of the parliamen-

tary system is the permanency and efficiency of its sessions. In the
Arab states, even when parliaments are in session their activities are
frequently paralyzed by withdrawals from meetings, by deliberate
absenteeism, and by other devices which in fact contribute to the
lack of a quorum and the paralysis of the whole system, not to speak
of acts of violence in the parliaments themselves. For example, on
February 26, 1953, the former Minister of Defense of Lebanon, Emir

Majid Arslan, threatened Deputy Emile el-Bustani with a revolver
and a dagger. Under such conditions, the government thought it
wiser to postpone the regular meetings of the Chamber for a week.
In Iraq, the Parliament was recessed for a month on March n,
1954, without any explanation at all. It is no wonder, certainly,
that
under these circumstances frequent recourse should be taken to
counterparliamentary measures.
The most characteristic trait of cabinet government in the Arab
states is its frequency of change, both with regard to the cabinets
158 The New State
and to their members. Egypt had, between 1946 and

1952, eighteen
cabinets, mostly court-imposed. Not even the dictatorial regime of
General Naguib in Egypt could boast of stability in this realm. As
early asDecember 8, 1952, the cabinet which had issued from the
revolutionwas reshuffled. On June 15, three ministers resigned, and
on June 18 a number of civilians were dropped from the cabinet
and replaced by members of the Military Council. A further reshuffle
took place in January, 1954, to be followed by a series of kaleido-
scopic changes in the Premiership. Iraq had, from the time of the
establishment of the Iraqi Government in 1921 up until the termina-
tion of the Mandate in 1932, fourteen cabinets. From 1932 until the
summer had forty more, a total of fifty-eight cabinets in
of 1955 she
thirty-four years, an average of one cabinet for every seven months.

Jordan has had fifteen cabinets since 1947; Syria, twenty-three
cabinets in the past seven years; and Lebanon has had eighteen dif-
ferent governments between 1943 and 1955.
What is important here is not only the phenomenon of frequent
change, but also its reasons. No excuse can be found for our neighbors
in the example of the French, who had, during the postwar period,
one cabinet every six months. A comparison of the character of the
instability in the Near East with that in France throws, rather,

additional unfriendly light on the nature of the instability in our area.
A change of government in France is the result of a certain issue
which is paramount at the moment and which divides the votes in
the Chamber of Deputies in a certain manner. For instance, if the
most important issue in the French Parliament at a certain moment is
taxation, a government will be found that will be able to carry
through taxation legislation. Six months laterit

may well be that the
real issue will be something entirely different. Then new majorities
may be created, a crisis may ensue, and a new government may come
to power. In the Arab world, however, changes of government are
not necessarily based upon changes in important issues, but upon
sometimes inscrutable reasons. Moreover, there is a difference in the
method of change always constitutional in France, frequently anti-
constitutional in Israel's neighbors.
It would, however, be a mistake to assume that new cabinets
necessarily mean new There Is a hard core of politicians who

faces.
manage to find their

way into all cabinets,
subscribing to the maxim:
Plus $a change, plus $a reste la meme chose. Wendell Willkie wrote
in One World that having asked one politician to explain to him this
permanency despite change he was given the following answer:

"With a small pack of cards you must shuffle them often." The man
who made this observation was General Nuri as-Said, who was him-
self ten times Prime Minister of Iraq and a member of at least two
dozen cabinets, including the most recent ones.
SUBSTITUTES FOR CONSTITUTIONAL METHODS OF CHANGE
Nationalism may sometimes mean a preference to be badly gov-

erned by people of one's own kin than well governed by someone
else. Without comparing the efficiency, honesty, and integrity of the
Mandatory and the independent governments, it can be said without

exaggeration that in so far as the Arab states are concerned self-
government does not always mean good government. In fact, the
general characteristics of the administrations of the Arab countries
are, according to its press, dishonesty, inefficiency, and corruption.
Unlike European countries, where the rules of the game are pains-
takingly observed, in the Arab countries coups d'etat, conspiracies,
and assassinations, all of them accompanied by street violence, which
sometimes has an independent "function," are, as I have demon-
strated, a matter of everyday occurrence.
Surveying the political history of the Arab states of the last few
years we see, nevertheless, that no coup d'etat in the proper sense of

the word (a change of civil government by the intervention of the
armed forces) has taken place in Jordan. Lebanon can even boast
that it all, but the fact is that it was success-
has had no coup d'etat at
ful in preventing, on two occasions, the menace of a coup d'etat by
actions of doubtful constitutionality. On the first occasion, the Great
Syrian party of Lebanon under Anton Sa'ada was liquidated and

Sa'ada executed. The second action (this time including the interven-
army) took place on September 18, 1952, when General
tion of the
Fouad Shehab was appointed Premier and forced the resignation of
the President by refusing to use the army to suppress mob violence.
160 The New State
Of much greater seriousness is the situation which exists in Egypt,
Iraq, and Syria. Egypt actually at one time lived under a series of
coups d'etat engineered by the king. A classical coup, executed
all
by the army under General Naguib, took place on July 24, 1952, and
resulted in the expulsion of the king and the assumption of the reins
of government by the Revolutionary Council of the officers. It would,
however, be a mistake to believe that stability was achieved in the
dictatorial regime of General Naguib. Only four months after the
revolution, a plot to overthrow his regime was discovered, and as a

result all political parties were abolished, their funds confiscated,
and a three-year interregnum established.
Like politicians, officers also have their quarrels, and characteristic
elements of coups d'etat are interarmy struggles. In mid-January,
1953, some twenty-five officers were arrested and were brought to
trial for counterrevolutionary conspiracy, and on April 28, 1954, a
plot of army officers was allegedly discovered and was followed by
arrests of numerous officers. But probably the most extraordinary
change of government occurred in February, 1954, when General

Naguib was relieved of all his offices in order to save him from a
threat of assassination, and three days later was restored to the
Presidency, with Colonel Nasser taking over the Premiership on

April 1 8, 1954. The solemn promise to end the revolution
by July 24,
1954, and to restore civil government, given in a statement of March
25, 1954, and followed by the release of numerous political prisoners,
was revoked a few days later amid student demonstrations and ar-
rests, and accompanied by stern measures against thirty-eight former
ministers. Nor did the final victory of Nasser put an end to plots
and conspiracies. The most publicized of such plots was one by twelve
army officers and forty civilians to overthrow the Nasser regime,
which was discovered in April and May of 1954. The most spec-
tacular, however, was the conspiracy of a member of the Moslem
Brotherhood, accused in November-December of 1954 of the inten-
tion to overthrow the regime. The judgment in this case was harsh,
with numerous death sentences inflicted upon the leaders of the
Brotherhood, to the consternation of the Moslem world.
The rest of the Arab world has followed a similar pattern. Iraq
sustained six coups between 1936 and 1942, and yet another on
November 24, 1952, when, as a result o demonstrations and riots,
Premier Mustafa al-Umari resigned and the Regent appointed the
Chief of Staff, General Nureddin Mahrnud, to form a government.
Since March, 1949, Syria has had five coups d'etat, the first on March
30, 1949, by Colonel Husni Zaim, which resulted in the arrest and
subsequent exile of the Syrian Premier and President, the dissolu-
tion of Parliament and of political parties, the suppression of the press,
and numerous arrests. Less than five months later, the second coup
was executed. This one led to the death of Zaim and the assumption
of power by Colonel Hinnawi on August 14, 1949. Some four months
later, inDecember, 1949, the third coup followed, engineered by
Colonel Adib Shishakly; and the fourth, also engineered by Colonel
Shishakly, occurred in November, 1951. Twice during the second
coup Shishakly was obliged to deal with interarmy struggles, but
on February 25, 1954, a rebellion of army officers accompanied by acts
of violence and bloodshed put an end to his regime. He fled to Riad
and from there to Paris as a "political exile." Hasim el-Atasi was
proclaimed President three days later, the 1950 constitution was re-
stored, and an all-civilian cabinet under Sabri el-Asali was appointed
which took numerous punitive measures against Shishakly sup-
porters and asked France for his extradition. Nevertheless, despite
the return of civilian government, both the individual conspirators
and the whole National Socialist party were made to stand trial
in the summer of 1955.
Assassination, as we have also seen, plays an important part in the
process of changing government in the Arab states, both as an ele-
ment of a coup d'etat and independently of it. Egypt lost two Prime
Ministers as a result of murder: Ahmed Maher Pasha was assas-
sinated in February, 1945, and Mahmoud Fahmy Nokrashy Pasha
in December, 1948. The leader of the Moslem Brotherhood (credited
with the assassination of Nokrashy Pasha), Sheik Hassan al-Banna,
was assassinated in February, 1949, probably as an act of vengeance
for the murder of Nokrashy. Finance Minister Amin Osman Pasha
was assassinated in November, 1945, and two unsuccessful attempts
at assassination were made against Heikal, the President of the
162 The New State
Senate, one in 1946 and another two years later. Nahas Pasha was
reported to have escaped death twelve times. In October, 1954, while
Colonel Nasser was addressing a crowd in Alexandria, he was shot
at eight times but escaped unharmed. The would-be assassin was
identified as a member o the Moslem Brotherhood, and this shot
was the o the campaign against the Brotherhood.
start
In Jordan, the first conspiracy to murder King Abdullah, in 1948,
was frustrated and three persons were condemned to death. Three
years later murder was accomplished. The leading Lebanese
the
politician, Riad As Sulh, escaped death in March of 1950, but was

murdered in Jordan a year later, in July, 1951.
A gruesome picture of assassinations emerges, too, from a study of
the political history of Syria and Iraq. In July, 1940, the top Syrian
leader. Dr. Abdul Rahman Shahbandar was killed. On August 14,
1949, as Ihave noted, Zaim and his Premier, Muhsin Barazi, were
executed by Sami Hinnawi, who was himself assassinated in October,
1950. On July 31, 1950, the chief of the air force, Colonel Mohammed
Nassir, was assassinated, and on October 3, 1950, an attempt on
Shishakly was frustrated and followed by numerous arrests. In
April, 1955, Ghalib Shishakly, a cousin of the ousted President, was
killed during a political clash, and only five days later Colonel
Adnan Maliki, who was slated to become Chief of Staff, was assas-
sinated, allegedly for his support of Syria's alignment with Egypt
and Saudi Arabia.
In Iraq, during Bakr SiquFs coup d'etat in October, 1936, the
Minister of Defense, Ja'far-Al-Askari, was assassinated, eleven
months after his celebrated march on Baghdad. Later, in 1940, the
Iraqi leader and Minister, Rustin Haidar, was assassinated. However,
it is to be mentioned that a marked improvement in this respect has
been seen in Iraqi affairs.
When the regular procedures do not operate, irregular ones enter

the vacuum. It is no wonder, therefore, that street disorders and mass
riots are on the permanent agenda of Israel's neighbors. A typical
case of mob violence occurred in Amman on October 21, 1953, when
a mob smashed windows in the United States Information Service
Building. In the fight against these disorders governments have been

forced into a policy of censorship, arrests, and concentration camps.
THE FUTURE OF CONSTITUTIONAL GOVERNMENT IN THE ARAB STATES

It is interesting at this point to speculate on the
prospects of parlia-
mentary government in the Middle East. The subject has been dis-
cussed by a number of publicists and critics. Lord Cromer, 3 writing
on Egypt in 1908, asserted that "The legislative Assembly has, in
practice, turned out to be the least useful and efficient. It was, and
still is, too much in advance of the requirements and
political edu-
cation of the country. No real harm would be done if it were simply
abolished."
More recent writers, not less pessimistic than Lord Cromer, have
held almost the same views. One official in Palestine declared to an
American scholar: "In countries like Transjordan and Iraq, you
. . .
can up a native government, give them advice, and let them go.
set
But if you want progress, you must have direct administration.""*

The tragically murdered Syrian nationalist, Dr. Shahbandar, while
admitting the value of parliamentary government for a country
under foreign control as a means of limiting interference, contended
that more rapid progress could be made only under a benevolent
5
ruler. For Lebanon, Georges Naccache said recently: "In all the
countries of the region parliament has been ruled by vested interest,
feudal overlords, and denominational chieftains, and true . . .
democracy can therefore operate only outside parliament and must

6
turn against parliament."
8
Evelyn Baring, ist Earl of Cromer, Modern Egypt (1908), II, 278.
4
Quincy Wright, "The Government of Iraq," American Pohtzcal Science Review t
XX (1926), 761.
5
Al-Qadaya al-Istima'iyah al-%ubra (1936), p. 93, quoted by Majid Khadduri,
Independent Iraq (1951), p. 33.
6
Recently, two thoughtful writers of Arab origin indicated their grave concern with
the situation in the Arab countries. Cecil Hourani, in al Abhath, VI (1953), 45 65,
discussing the future of constitutional governments in the Arab countries, and seeing
their weaknesses, realized that the choice is between dictatorship on one hand and some
reform of the constitutional government on the other. While the author is all for the
latter solution, the events do not warrant such optimistic prospects. A second eminent
Political Science Review, XLVII
political scientist, Majid Khadduri, in American
(i953)> 511-24, seems also to be upset by military coups and probably believes that
in the long run only education may contribute to the stability of the regimes. See also,
for a broader interpretation, Professor Bernard Lewis* article, "Democracy in the
Middle East Its State and Prospects," Middle Eastern Affairs, VI (1955), 101-8.
164 The New State
III. Conclusions
Summarizing this glance at the constantly deteriorating symptoms

of Instability in the Arab states, we find at this moment, in addition
to the two despotic monarchies, one military dictatorship, one mon-
archy with a strong tendency toward military rule (Iraq), a second

monarchy submerged in a permanent conflict between the interests
of two elements of the population (Jordan), and, finally, a republic
(Lebanon) with an uneasy denominational balance and a consequent

sense of permanent crisis, particularly in its relationship with its
closest neighbor, Syria, itself in a state of political chaos. The dicta-
torships are following the paths of European dictators in an attempt
to replace political parties by mass movements, such as the Arab
Movement in Syria and the National Liberation Move-
Liberation
ment The political role of the Moslem Brotherhood as a
in Egypt.
mass movement is still uncertain. In Egypt, on January 15, 1954? the
Moslem Brotherhood was dissolved, some five hundred leaders, in-
cluding the Supreme Guide, were arrested, and a state of emergency
was proclaimed.
The unique position of Israel, as a democracy in this autocratic
world, becomes much clearer after this survey of the political realities
in the neighboring Arab countries. A
democratic island in an auto-
cratic sea, what does such a situation portend for the island and what
for the sea? Whether political events are predictable or not is a
matter of speculation. The political scientist may, however, at least
envisage certain alternative developments which may reveal them-

selves following the establishment of peaceful relations between
Israel and its Arab neighbors. At this moment two equally possible
processes can be discerned. While on the one hand the danger of the
infection of a good regime from bad ones, which we may call the ap-
plication of Gresham's law on political developments, cannot be

completely discarded, it is not unlikely that a smooth operation of a
democracy in a friendly neighboring country may do more for the
evolution of democracy in the Arab world than a mere hasty imita-
tion of European constitutions and fascist ideologies.
4
RELIGION AND THE STATE IN ISRAEL
HAYIM GREENBERG
To avoid misunderstandings and misinterpretation, I shall begin

by stating some general propositions on the relationship of the state
to organized religion as I see it. It is a general profession de joi on
which I am not going to elaborate here; and it may be accepted or
rejected according to one's likes and valuations.
My point of departure is that an individual is neither a part of a
machine nor merely or exclusively a cell of the social organism, but
a wholeness, an entity in itself, or, as we call it in Hebrew, a small
universe, 'olam qatan. The individual may leave his tribe, member-
ship in which is much more organic than citizenship in a state. He
may leave his church, his community, renounce his nationality, be-
come naturalized in a different state, and remain an individual. In
one case he will be a handicapped or crippled individual, in another
case a redeemed one, depending on the particular circumstances.
But he can retain, in any event, his selfhood. Society, and the state
as its politicalembodiment, are divisible. The individual, as in-
dicated by the very etymology of the word, is indivisible. In other
words, society, to use a rather clumsy expression, is a dividual, in
contradistinction to the individual*
My first proposition, therefore, is that there is more ultimate reality
in the individual than in society and its structure, the legal structure
of the state. The essence of the state is temporal; the essence of the
165
i66 The New State
individual is both temporal and transcendental. What is

temporal is
also temporary. What is transcendental gravitates toward and par-

takes of eternity. The religious believer assumes that in the world
beyond there are only persons, not aggregates o persons.
second proposition is that no state, however perfect or har-
My
monious its structure, can ever be coextensive with the essences and
the existences of the individuals it embraces. From this point of view
I regard anarchism, which is essentially a Utopian extension of

liberalism, as the most
religious among An the social doctrines.
anarchy of course,
is, unrealizable in historical reality, but the great
value in this trend of thought lies in the accentuation of the in-
dividual's supreme significance and the relativity of all
possible
forms of social organization.
Mythird proposition is that the authority and power of the state

are to a very large extent of a derivative nature. The state derives its
relative cohesiveness, its power of sanction and coercion, from the
expressed or tacit attitudes of the individuals which it encompasses

from their conscious or unconscious will, from the enthusiastic
devotion of some of them, from the reluctant assent of the others,
from their unwilling submission, even from their apathy, which is
in itself, paradoxically enough, also an aspect of human will.

Myfourth proposition, which follows from those above, is that in
the hierarchy of values, religion, which moves in the realm of the
absolute, is superior to the state, which exists and functions in the
realm of the relative.
The fourth proposition Is the logical basis for the fifth which
bears a clear practical aspect. When claims of the state clash with
fundamental beliefs and tenets of the individual, the first loyalty of
the believer is to his faith and not to the state. This is the idea ex-
pressed by Sophocles in his Antigone, when Antigone says of her-
self that the crime she has committed is a holy crime a crime com-
mitted against the state, against the king of the city-state in Greece,
but holy because she obeyed the commands of her gods.
The idea of obeying God rather than Caesar is an ancient idea, the
idea that was formulated in three words in Hebrew, Mele\ Mallei
ha-Mela%im, the King who was above all possible kings in the uni-
Religion and the State 167
verse. The same idea was expressed by John Milton when he declared
that he preferred truth to King Charles, who was the embodiment of
the state in his days. No
state can claim unlimited sovereignty vis-a-vis
its citizenry. No state should be allowed to become an all-devouring
Leviathan, become deified.
My sixth proposition follows: It is not within the province of the
state to impose upon its citizens anything which is contrary to the
enlightened religious conscience, even of a small segment of its
population. One of the distinctive features of the state is the inherent
right and duty and the function of the
to coerce. Since the essence
state is temporal, the exercise of its power and coerce should
to rule
be limited to the temporal order. To protect and promote the general
well-being and security of the commonwealth, it establishes police
protection, bureaus of administration for justice, health, economic
affairs, social security, general education, occupational training, and
similar matters. But natural law, as I understand it, does not permit
the state to use its
powers in matters of religious belief or practice.
of illustration, I would point to certain facts characterizing
By way
the trend of modern democratic states. Quakers, both in Great Britain
and America, are readily exempted from military or combat serv-
ice in deference to their religious beliefs. The state is of course
within its rights in
conscripting Quakers to perform certain types of
labor in an emergency situation. It is, however, reasonable to expect
the state to assign bona fide religious pacifists to agricultural, welfare,
or sanitary work and not
to the production of arms or ammunition.
It is just as reasonable to expect, not only the Jewish State, but any
enlightened state in our days, not to demand of an official or em-

ployee, if he happens to be an observant Jew, the performance of work
on his Sabbath, when there is no emergency situation amounting to
what we call piqquah nefesh, a situation involving physical danger
to a human being.
Now to my seventh and final proposition. It is not within the
province of organized religion to acquire political power, and to use

that power in order to make the state its secular arm, thus coercing
the population, in whole or in part, into the acceptance of beliefs,
and observances which are unacceptable to the religious
restrictions,
x68 The New State
or, for that matter, to the irreligious

conscience of any group of
citizens. Cuius regio eius religio is an essentially antireligious prin-
of whether it is pronounced by a king, by a militant
ciple, regardless
church, by a powerful minority, or
even by a great majority of the
themselves. True observance, commanded and guided by true
people
can be based freedom of assent, or consent; other-
faith, only upon
wise it loses its intrinsic religious value. Religion, which is tran-
scendental, must not use the tools, the weapons, and the political
strategy of the temporal.
II
One of the great achievements in the field of political and spiritual
liberty is undoubtedly freedom of religious conscience. But the con-
cept of religious freedom includes

not only the right of every citizen
to belong to any religion he chooses; it also implies his right to be
or even hostile to the very idea
absolutely indifferent to all religion,
of belief and practice; or, on the other hand, if he is able to
religious
do own, purely individual religious life, without ties
so, to live his
be held to account by no
toany organization or institution, and to
one as to its content. Other citizens (they may be the majority) have
the right to consider anyone utterly indifferent to religion as mentally
and defective; they may be convinced that anyone hostile
spiritually
to religion and they
is either a pathological case or a villain, may
freely consider as an idle boaster and phrasemonger anyone who
self-sufficient and needs no one's
pretends that he is religiously
counsel. All this has nothing to do with the democratic state itself
and the social contract upon which it must be established: the demo-
cratic state must be tolerant of every religion as well as of irreligion,
except where these are opposed to the criminal code or basically

violate accepted standards of public order and decorum. Such a state
extends its patronage to no single religion, nor does it discriminate
against any religion; it forces
no citizen to carry out any religious
duty or participate in any ceremony against his wish.
The draft constitution for Israel is, in general, based on the prin-
ciples of tolerance
and equality. It establishes no special privileges
for the Jewish religion and contains no explicit discrimination against

any other religion. Its
shortcomings are of quite a different kind. It
does not provide for a strict separation of church and state; in fact,
it instructs the state to extendits
protection to the three major reli-
gions of the country. In a sense one may say that, instead of estab-
lishing any one religion as dominant, the Constitution would provide
for the Jewish, Moslem, and Christian "communities" on a plane of
equality. Certain legal procedures which are generally regarded as
organic functions of the modern state as a whole have been delegated
to these "religious communities," to be administered by them under
the budget of the whole state.
This is clearly seen in Chapter V of the draft constitution (Articles
70-74). In this chapter, questions of "personal status" (marriage,
divorce, registration of births, burials, identification of parents, sep-
aration of man and wife, certain aspects of inheritance, etc.) are as-
signed to the special "religious courts" of the Jewish, Moslem, and
Christian communities. The judges in these courts are to be ap-
pointed by the President of the Republic in consultation with the

Minister of Religious Affairs, whose proposals in turn shall take into
account the recommendations of the Supreme Religious Council of
the community concerned.
Upon examination of Articles 70-72, it is clear that the state is
obligated under them to consider every citizen as belonging to one

of the three (perhaps later more) religious communities of the coun-
try. A citizen of the State of Israel, whether he likes it or not, is
automatically considered a member of one of the recognized churches

or religious organizations. In certain important matters affecting him
and the vital interests of his family, he must be either a Jew, a Chris-
tian, or a Moslem. If he is not a Jew (that is, if he does not consider

himself a memberof the Jewish religious community, or is unwill-
ing to submit to the authority of the Chief Rabbinate), or a Christian

by faith and belief (though his parents may have been Christians,
and he may have been baptized as an infant), or yet a Moslem, he
has no official agency, according to the existing draft, to appeal to in
the most vital questions of personal status. If he refuses to apply to
the recognized religious courts, he has no way of legalizing or even
170 The New State
simply registering his marriage or the birth of a child; he has no one

to grant him a divorce; and it is not clear who will be responsible
for probating his will and dividing his inheritance among his heirs
if he dies intestate. The draft constitution does not provide for a
secular nonreligious court with jurisdiction in these matters. The

State of Israel, according to the draft, could make no provision for
the personal status of atheists, agnostics, or adherents of a "private
religion." It is easy to see that we have here

a plain violation of the
principle of equal rights and personal freedom: the state assumes the
character of a "tripartite theocracy."
Although the draft constitution does not say so, the simple di-
vision into three religious communities, to which it repeatedly refers,
could hardly be carried out in practice. The Mandate government
recognized a good many more, as the State of Israel will also un-
doubtedly do, but even then difficulties arose in fitting all these dif-
ferent communities into the official framework.
I do not pretend to know very clearly whether the Moslems in
Israel are all of the same But everyone knows there is no
school.
such thing in Palestine as a "Christian community"; the Christian
population of Israel is quite variegated. Nowhere in the world do a
Protestant, a Roman Catholic, and a Greek Orthodox Christian be-
long to the same religious community; nor do they in Israel. The
relations between them are far from idyllic, and although they are
all Christians,they lay most stress on the theological, liturgical, and
other differences that divide them. Consequently, there is not, nor can
there be, a Supreme Religious Council of the "Christian community."
Nobody would recognize the authority of such a Council. Precisely

in questions of personal status the Christian denominations differ
sharply. Most Protestant churches, for example, do not recognize the

ban on marriage of first cousins; it is stillmaintained by the two
1
"classical* churches, the Roman Catholic and Greek Orthodox. Ro-
man Catholicism does not recognize divorce at all, except in rare,
exceptional cases ("What therefore God hath joined together, let not
man put asunder") ;
the Greek Orthodox Church recognizes divorce,
but requires a very painful procedure, proving beyond any doubt
that one of the parties has been guilty of sexual license. It would
certainly be impossible to bring all these various groups under the

roof o a single "religious
community."
But beyond this problem, why should the state force a citizen who
is classified as a Catholic to accept a
personal status which involves
all the severe restrictions of the Roman
Church, if he himself does
not care to observe them ? Why should there not be a general civil
jurisdiction for anyone seeking to marry or be divorced on conditions

a particular church fails to recognize ? And why must anyone born
a Moslem submit to the anachronistic Islamic laws about inheritance
and the relations between man and wife or parents and children, if
he wishes to be free of the compulsion of such laws ? Let the church
treat such cases as it likes, or, as its canon prescribes, excommunicate
them, deny them salvation, or take other punitive measures. That

has nothing to do with the state, which must grant its citizens the
liberty to ignore such sanctions if they choose.
There are also a number of religious groups in Israel which do not
fall under the draft constitution's classification of Jews, Moslems, and
Christians. The Bahai group in Haifa cannot be satisfactorily as-
signed to the jurisdiction of any of the three major religious com-
munities. The Druzes are not Christians, even though they regard
Jesus of Nazareth as one of the incarnations in which God was
revealed on earth. Nor are they Moslems, although they regard Mecca
as a holy place. They are not pagans, for although their ritual con-
(what mono-
tains certain elements reminiscent of ancient idolatry
them?), the unity of the Creator is

theistic religipn is entirely free of
a fundamental and profoundly conceived belief among them. They
have their own laws and customs concerning marriage and the
family, and women occupy a far higher position socially as well as
religiously among them than in the system of Islam. To what court
should they appeal in matters of religious status under a draft con-
stitution which refers only to the Jewish, Moslem, and Christian
"religious communities"?
The Jewish community itself in the State of Israel is not entirely
homogeneous. There are Oriental Jewish communities in Israel

which have never adopted the ban on polygamy. Should the Jewish
court forbid them to marry more than one wife or should it rec-
172 The 'New State
ognize distinct and opposed laws for different parts of the same
religious community, as the
Mandate courts did? What will be the
status in Israel of Conservative synagogues and rabbis? Will mar-
riages and divorces authorized by such rabbis

be considered valid by
the Jewish religious courts, which will probably consist entirely of
Orthodox judges? Will the children of such marriages be recognized
by the courts as legitimate? What would be the status before the
publicly recognized "Jewish community" in Israel of, let us say, a
congregation similar to the New York Society for the Advancement
of Judaism, which denies that the tenet of Israel as the Chosen Peo-
ple is binding upon a modern Jew ? Shall we say that such religious
"eccentrics" are permissible among Jews in exile, in America, but
cannot be allowed to exist in the State of Israel, where every Jew,
whether he likes it or not, must be subject to Orthodoxy? And what
will be the status in Israel of Reform or Liberal Judaism, some of
whose rabbis, incidentally,occupy leading positions in the World
Zionist Organization ? Will they and their doctrines have a legitimate
status before the Jewish court, or will they merely be "subjects" of
the Orthodox jurisdiction? May the state delegate authority to them
also in questions of personal status?
I raise these questions because the formulation in the draft con-
stitution, instead of simplifying all these problems, makes them much

more complex and involved. Evenin England, where the church still
enjoys a definite official status, there are certain liberties which the
authors of the Israel draft constitution have not sought* to secure for
the citizen. The sovereign of England is still head of the church (to be
sure, by some mysterious device he manages to be an Episcopalian in
England and a Presbyterian in Scotland) and only Parliament may

authorize changes in the Prayer Book. (Hence, comical though it
may seem to us, it is still technically true that Jewish Members of
Parliament, as well as Catholics and the handful of Communists in
the House of Commons, are entitled to vote on the kind of prayers
which may be recited in the Anglican Church.) Yet the concept of
civil marriage and divorce is not foreign to British
jurisprudence and
legal practice. In these questions, the citizen is not chained to any
given ecclesiastical organization.
Many other questions arise which even further complicate the

is true that
situation. It Orthodoxy in Israel has reconciled itself to
a number of arrangements which can hardly find support in Jewish
traditional law. There are, however, many privileges and aspirations
of the Orthodox element which they will not renounce without a
violent political fight. They do not want the state to grant any rec-
ognized status to a Jewish religious community of the non-Orthodox

persuasion. They will fight vigorously any attempt to establish secular
state authorities for the regulation of matters of personal status, such
as civil marriage, civil divorce, and other aspects of family relation-
ships. will oppose with all their power the legalization of

They
intermarriage in the country. They will not allow the state to annul
the existing regulations which impose on it and on the municipalities
the duty of enforcing the stoppage of public-vehicle traffic on Sab-
bath, and a number of other restrictions in the field of transport and
communication which are hardly compatible with the tempo of an
industrial civilization and the functions of a modern state. However,
the State of Israel will hardly be in a position to keep this arrange-
ment for long.
Acomplete separation of organized religion and state would not
only be a just solution, but much simpler in practice. Of course,
such separation would not preclude, in matters of personal status,
the functioning of ecclesiastical courts for those citizens who might
wish to live under their jurisdiction. Such courts would be partly
private, partly public institutions. A
marriage sanctified by such a
court would be recognized by the state; a divorce granted by
also
such a court would be valid in the eyes of the state; and if heirs
agreed to allow an ecclesiastical court to divide their inheritance
among them (save taxes, of course), there would be no reason for the
state to interfere, just as no decent state would prevent its citizens
from by voluntary arbitration rather than in
settling certain disputes
the civil courts. Thus
do not wish to question even official recogni-
I
tion by the state of religious courts for those who wish to apply to
them. The state may delegate under clearly defined conditions cer-
tain essentially governmental powers to such ecclesiastical courts.
What is to be criticized is the obligatory character of their jurisdic-
174 The New State
tion over citizens who have their own reasons, true or false, for not
wishing to accept them.

radical separation of state and religion in Israel is, I know,
Such a
impossible without a prolonged and severe Kulturfyjzmpf. Personally,
I am firmly convinced that such a Kulturfampf, at this juncture,
would be a major calamity. That is why no thoughtful and re-
sponsible Jew would suggest putting this issue

on the current agenda
of Israel. The fledgling state of the Jewish people is at present bur-
dened with so many heavy responsibilities, confronted with so many
grave and acute problems of a political as well as economic nature,
that the largest possible measure of national solidarity, of community
cohesiveness, is the need of the hour. Sharp controversies and in-
ternal political clashes ought to be avoided as much as possible, or
postponed for happier times for a more consolidated community

and a more entrenched state. Looking at the situation as I see it, we
can have only high praise for the Socialist and Liberal forces of
Israel dominating the present government, which, though professing
the doctrine of separation of state and religion, have made a number
of concessions to the political Orthodoxy of Israel with the aim of
preventing the country from plunging into a war of Weltanschau-

ungcn. I have high praise for this kind of opportunism, which is
motivated by a deep sense of responsibility, and which I believe the
future historian will characterize as great patriotism and wise states-
manship. The time of separation is yet to come for the benefit of
the state and, I would add, even for the greater benefit of religion
itself.
Personally, I believe that religion is potentially, if not actually, the

peak of all possible human achievements. I also realize that the new
lifebeing planted and nurtured and taking shape in Israel cannot

fail to be enriched and fructified in many ways by such an inex-
haustible fountain of inspiration as Jewish religious tradition. Jewish
religious life may now experience an efflorescence in the stimulating

atmosphere of its native land, in the social milieu of its home.
A religious Jew is surely entitled to hope that a return to Zion will
be accompanied by a Jewish religious renaissance; but such a rebirth,
if it is destined to come, as I believe it is, must come
spontaneously,
not by way of a protectionist policy on the part of the state. The state
must secure to all believers the opportunity of a full and undisturbed
life in the spirit of their faith and in
harmony with their tradition.
The believers are entitled to full protection but not to "protection-
ism." The Jewish republic should not force upon unwilling citizens
any religious conformity, any obedience to ecclesiastical authorities.
These objectives, in any case, cannot in a true sense be achieved
by coercion; only in freedom can those who strayed from the true
path in the religious sense be brought to repentance or to a new con-
version. Legislation and regimentation are not the way. Organized
religion may and should seek to act through persuasion, not through
authority, through its own inner spiritual power and influence, not
through the power of the magistrate and the policeman. The Al-
mighty does not need their assistance and protection. He has his own
sometimes inscrutable ways of penetrating the human soul and
shaping men's behavior. And as to the community of believers, their
influence will depend on the manner in which they give testimony
and actual existence to their living faith and to the spirit of God in
them.
5
THE YEMENITE JEWS IN THE

ISEAEL AMALGAM
S. D. GOITEIN
Although I fully subscribe to the Talmudic saying that it would

have been better for man if he had not been created at all, 1 there
are, I feel, a few moments in each man's life for which he would
deem it worth while to have come into being. In my own life I
count as such a moment the night when I was privileged to observe,
for the first time, the arrival of a Yemenite convoy at the reception
camp of Hashid near Aden in south Arabia. Of the many impres-

sions of that night three details stand out in my memory. The
little
convoy had hardly come in, and only a few immigrants had lined up
for medical examination, when a man jumped from a truck hold-
ing in his hand a huge shofar not the diminutive instrument we

use, but a spiral horn, I believe of the African antelope, about two
yards long. He hesitated for a moment, but, encouraged by his

friends, he put the horn to his mouth and a long-drawn mighty
thunder rolled through the desert night. The Messiah had not yet
come, but that shofar blast was a genuine expression of actual re-
demption.
The medical examination was another experience. The newcomers
had been detained by the sultan of a malaria-ridden district, and it
could be anticipated that many of them had contracted that illness.
Because of the numbers involved, only a cursory inspection was pos-
1
[Babylonian Talmud, 'Erubln i$b.]
176
'Yemenite Jews in Israel 177
sible; the doctor simply touched the each of the newcomers

body o
In order to find out whether or not he had fever. Knowing the
sensitive nature of Yemenite women, I wondered what would
hap-
pen when their turn came. Their reaction, however, to this first
and most tangible contact with a Jew other than a Yemenite was
amazing. I shall never forget their quiet look of complete child-
like confidence; itwas a confidence rooted in the belief that from
the sons of their faith they could experience
nothing but good.
When everyone had disembarked, it became evident that very little
of their earthly possessions had survived the trials of the mass exodus.
There was but one exception: books Hebrew books, of course. On
every truck there was a load: books printed in Venice, Amsterdam,
Vienna, Vilna, Jerusalem, and many other places. Of all the amazing
experiences of that night, this was perhaps the most significant; it
revealed that these strange and wild-looking men from a remote
district in lower Yemen were truly Jews who had taken their fuU
share of the spiritual heritage of our forefathers.
Of the many dramatic events which marked the erection and
consolidation of the State of Israel, Operation Magic Carpet, the
mass exodus by air of the Yemenites, was perhaps one of the most
impressive. The entire people of Israel, the whole Jewish world, and
many others looked with undivided enthusiasm at that unique per-
formance of the ingathering of a whole tribe, a tribe which repre-
sented also one of the most ancient populations on earth. That great
deed of philanthropy was financed and organized almost entirely by
American Jewry, and it is only natural that now, after the lapse of a
few years, the same American Jews should ask: "What are the re-
sults ? To what extent and how have the Yemenites become a positive
element in the new Jewish state?" I am certainly not in a position to
give a complete answer to these questions; but as one whose research
has brought him into contact with many groups of Yemenites, I may
be able to provide some impressions and reflections on the subject.
First of all, it would be useful to know how many Yemenites are
in Israel,and what percentage of the Jewish population of the state
they constitute. It is, however, by no means easy to get a clear-cut
answer to this question. As is well known, Yemenites have been liv-
I7 8
The New State
first compact and sizable group

ing in Palestine for a long time. The
o Yemenites arrived in the country in 1881-82, the same year which
saw the Aliyah of Jewish pioneers from Europe.
first At the end of
World War when the Jewish population of Palestine was deci-
I,
mated as a result of the horrors of that war, there were about 4200
Yemenites in the country or about 7.5 per cent of the total Jewish
population.Under the British Mandate, about 16,000 Yemenites were
admitted to Palestine as legal immigrants, but it is not known
whether there was any illegal immigration from Yemen worth men-
tioning. While one
Yemenite notable puts the figure of illegal im-
at 15,000, there are other more conservative Yemenite lead-
migration
comprised a few hundreds at mosClt
ers who estimate that it seems
reasonable to assume that, allowing for natural increase, the Yemenite
population of Israel at the
time of the creation of the state amounted
to approximately 40,000. From that time to the first of July, 1953,
there arrived in the country more than 45,000 Yemenites. This would
indicate a Yemenite population of 85,000, or, including the natural
increase duringthis short period, a total of over 90,000, just a little
less than 7 per cent of the total Jewish population of the State of
Israel.
To be groups in Israel which are far
sure, there are other Oriental
from Iraq alone about
larger than the Yemenite community. Thus,
126,000 persons emigrated to Israel between 1950
and 1954 and these
too came almost exclusively by airlift. Still, this mass exodus from
less attention than Operation Magic Carpet,
Iraq has attracted far
although the Iraqis have already made a considerable contribution
to the community. The reason for this difference, to my mind, is
that it has been deeply and rightly felt by many that the Yemenites
were the most Jewish of all Jews; that they had preserved in their
remote in a country which was itself a monotheistic
isolation,
theocracy, much of the character of

a genuinely Jewish society.
Therefore, their ingathering to the land of their fathers was not only
a redemption of the body; it was a return of the spirit. One is con-
sequently all the more anxious to know
whether this ingathering was
a success; whether the eternal light, which had been kept burning
in the most trying circumstances for so many centuries, will now
'Yemenite Jews in Israel 179
flame brightly or, conversely, will become dimmer and dimmer in

the pervasive atmosphere of a thoroughly Western society.
In seeking to answer this question, one is immediately reminded
of a Hebrew work, the novel Ya 'ish by Hayyim Hazzaz, one o the
foremost Hebrew authors of our day. This is the life story of a reli-
gious visionary who lived in Yemen at the end
of the nineteenth
century. After leading us through the most wondrous avenues in four

full volumes, the novel abruptly concludes with a few lines relating
the experiences of the visionary when he reached the goal of his
dreams, the Holy City of Jerusalem. Once there, nothing is to be
told any more of the hero, for there were no visions in Jerusalem;
once there, Heaven became closed to him forever.
wish to place
Against the somber background of Hazzaz' novel, I
another, more modest piece of literature, which is, however, directly
concerned with the spiritual problems of the new immigrants. Its
author is himself a Yemenite, a young man called Mordekhai Tabib,
novel, published in 1949, was very well received by
whose first all
sections of the population of Israel. Recently Tabib published a sec-
ond volume, a group of short stories. The particular story I have in

mind comprises fifty-seven pages, about eighty pages in an English
edition of the same size. It is a lovely story of a blind girl who had
come with her family from Yemen during the mass exodus*
to Israel
After a short introductory chapter, the plot begins with a moving

and detailed description of the arrival of the immigrants at the air-
port of Lydda. It ends
with a family gathering in the home of an
uncle of the blind her father returns from a pilgrimage to
girl, after
the tombs of Rabbi Simeon ben Yohai and other saints buried on
the mountains of Galilee. As a matter of fact, the father no longer
at the tombs of saints can restore the
strongly believes that prayer
but he had vowed to make this
eyesight of his beloved daughter;
vows is a mitzvah, a commandment.
pilgrimage, and to keep
one's
As the girl persistently shows sensitivity for light and darkness, the
father thinks now that he had better consult a doctor. And lo! at the
meal which is held, accordingly to Yemenite tradition, to com-

memorate the return from a pilgrimage, the uncle reports an item
from the newspaper saying that a doctor in Haifa had restored the
i8o The New State
eyesight of two immigrants who had been believed in Yemen to be

incurably blind. (This news item actually appeared in the Israeli
press.) Naturally, the guests at the banquet regard this announce-
ment, made at such an occasion, as more than a simple coincidence.
Furthermore, the pilgrimage had its practical results: the father
decides to settle with his family in one of the new districts in Galilee,
a district with which he had become enchanted both because of the
activities of the Yemenite settlers there and because of its time-
honored sanctity
I have retold Tabib's story at some length, not only because of its
optimistic and constructive spirit, but because it depicts faithfully

the mental attitude of one section of the Yemenite immigrants,
namely, those who are giving up the magical aspects of religion,

while retaining in full the others. This is not an entirely new
phenomenon; in Yemen itself there has been in existence an anti-
cabbalistic, rationalist reform movement for over sixty years, and
even in the villages many of the magical practices have, during the
last generation, fallen into disuse. Naturally, the sudden contact with
Western civilization, and in particular with its medical service, has
accelerated this process.
Reference has been made to one section of the Yemenite com-
munity. For the most basic fact we have to bear in mind in discussing
the Yemenites is that this comparatively small community consists
of many, and widely different, subsections. A survey carried out by
the School of Oriental Studies of theHebrew University in 1950 re-
vealed the amazing fact that the immigrants from Yemen had come
from no less than 1030 different places. The various groups differ
widely not only in their places of origin but also in their economic,
social, and spiritual capacities. I have met Yemenites with an almost
European mind, and other groups, fortunately a small minority, who

are inarticulate primitives. The Yemenites are famous for their clean-
liness, and I believe this applies to the majority; but I have met
groups, especially from lower Yemen, with whom I was unable to

make close contact because of their uncleanliness. Some communities
impress one as well-knit, well-organized units; others, and I am
afraid they are many, tend to disintegrate over disputes of little irr>
Yemenite Jews in Israel 181
portance. Finally, the range of occupational capacity is enormous* I

have made a list of sixty-six trades pursued by the Yemenites, in-
cluding agriculture, which was an important sideline for many vil-
lage communities.
The trouble is that we talk so much about the Yemenites, but
know so little about them. Our knowledge of them is confined largely
to the urban Yemenite from the highland of Yemen, who has been
studied by the late Dr. Erich Brauer in his Ethnologic der Jemeniti-
schen ]uden, and others, including myself, in various books and
papers. It has become evident, however, during the present mass
immigration, that the urban element constituted only a small minor-
ity. About 80 per cent at least have come from the country. After
making preliminary soundings in over seventy village communities,

I have found such a bewildering diversity that I have come to the
conclusion that any generalizations about the Yemenites at the pres-

ent state of our knowledge could be made only with the greatest
reservation. It is not so much the difference between town and vil-
lage as that between the various districts of Yemen which seems to

count. The only way to get a sound knowledge of the culture today
is to single out typical communities from various districts and to
study each of them as thoroughly as possible. As a pilot project, I

chose the former inhabitants of an exclusively Jewish village in lower
Yemen, almost all of whom had been engaged in weaving, with
agriculture as a sideline, and who had settled, again as a whole, in a

village not far from Jerusalem. This community I studied for a yean
A preliminary report about the methods adopted and the results
achieved has appeared in the January, 1955, issue of the Journal of
Jewish Social Studies under the tide "Portrait of a Yemenite
Weavers' Village." However, as this work was carried on practically
without funds, it was necessarily limited in scope and could not do
justice to the greatness and the urgency of the task.
For "depth research," as I call
this it,among the Yemenite com-
munities is not a theoretical pastime. If we want to assess the pros-
pects and the ways of integrating the various groups, we have first
to know them. In 1952, the press of Israel was filled with one long
cry of disappointment in the Yemenite immigrants.

What had
1 82 The New State
happened? Many immigrants had left the hurriedly fabricated new

at least a constant going and coming, which
villages, or there was
was detrimental to a sound economy. Why did this happen?
Naturally, each village was a separate case. Still, some general
trends could be observed. With good intention of accelerating the
assimilation of the newcomers, but in total disregard of their psy-
chology, the colonizing authority in many cases broke up the local

communities and settled immigrants coming from different parts of
Yemen in one place. The result was that they did not feel happy;
they quarrelled and often left the new settlement altogether. Con-
versely, most of the villages which were homogeneous were success-
ful. For example, in the weavers' village which I studied, and which
consisted in the main of families which had lived together for at

least250 years, there was no noticeable fluctuation of composition
during the time I had opportunity to observe it. Another, possibly
inevitable, mistake was that good groups did not get suitable settle-
ment on a sufficient territory, while weaker communities were as-
signed to places which they were unable to cultivate.

The general difficulty with the Yemenites, and their real tragedy,
is the fact that the whole economy of Israel is so different from that
with which they had been acquainted. Not a single one of the sixty-
six arts and crafts practiced by them in Yemen could be applied in
Israel without profound changes. The Yemenite Jew, who had been
in his country of origin a skilled master, found himself in the new
country an unskilled laborer. The greatest tragedy of all, perhaps,

was the fact that the religious sector of working Israel was far
too small to cope with the exigencies of the mass immigration of reli-
gious Jews. The result was that the instructors and other agents who
molded the occupational and communal life of the new Yemenite
communities necessarily had to be chosen largely from nonreligious
circles, a fact which naturally gave rise to many problems.
Now it will be asked how, in the face of all these difficulties, is a
rapid and fruitful integration of the Yemenites into Israeli society
possible? My answer is that the possibility of this integration is
proved by the simple fact that it is actually going on in leaps and
bounds. What happens today with the Yemenites in Israel is a
Yemenite Jews in Israel 183
greater miracle than their ingathering from all corners of Yemen and
their transfer by air to Israel. For three
generations people of this
tribe had been living in Palestine, preserving their language, their
ways of life, and even their cooking; for the Jewish population of
Palestine was then a yishuv (settlement) consisting of 'edot (com-
munities). All this has completely changed by now. Israel is be-

coming a nation with a face of its own. This new trend has pro-
foundly affected everyone. Formerly the Yemenites had been Yemen-
ites who lived in Palestine. Now they are Israelis who were once
Yemenites. Even an illiterate woman would now
regard it as an
insult you addressed
if her in her native Arabic. She possibly knows
only a few hundred words of Hebrew, but she is proud to belong to
what she regards as a higher civilization and to be a citizen of her
own country.
What have the Yemenites to offer to the Israel amalgam? They
are all
working people accustomed to some kind of specialized labor.
As artisans they possess arts, to be sure the folk arts of silverwork,
embroidery and basketmaking, song and dance. Mention has been

made before of a very promising Yemenite novelist, and as many of
them, both men and women, are excellent storytellers and easily
improvise verses, more may be expected from them in the field of
literature. A number of younger Yemenites have done serious work
in historical and literary research, studying both the literature of
their own community and also Jewish letters in general.
Their greatest asset, of course, is their religious heritage. Once,
when I conducted our late-lamented teacher Professor Louis Ginz-
berg to a Yemenite synagogue, he said to me after the service, "Now
I know what Judaism is." Testimony from such an authority carries
weight. However, we have to be realistic about this matter. The

Yemenites are simple working people. The spiritual content of their
religious civilization was always derived from that of the more de-
veloped Jewish communities. In Israel, it will not be different. The
vital questions, therefore, are who will be their most influential
leaders, and what will be the pattern on which they will mold their
future life.
This brings us to the further question: What can be done to further

184 The New State
the amalgamation of the Yemenite communities in Israel and to

lead them in the direction of adjustment to Israeli society? I cannot
treat here their economic and artistic activities. As to the problem of
their spiritual guidance, however, I have to repeat with some modifi-

cation what I have already stated: the religious intelligentsia of
Israel not strong enough to deal adequately with the spiritual
is
needs of the great masses of religious immigrants. Here is a historic

task for religious Jews all over the world. Adequately trained young
men should be sent to the villages of the immigrants to discuss with
them the problems of religion in the era of science and to demon-
strate to them that a man can be both modern and religious. I am
confident that such religious young men will derive much satisfac-
tion from One could also think about the adaption and
this task.
translation into Hebrew of suitable books about modern Judaism, for

the Yemenites read and believe. If they are deprived of books about
Judaism, they will read about less desirable subjects and believe.
Above all, however, the first prerequisite of a scientifically guided
process of amalgamation is research into the antecedents of each
community. There should be ample provision for fieldwork among

the Yemenites and for the publication of its results. This digging up
of their past, as I can testify, also gives them much satisfaction and
enhances their communal pride and self-assurance.
We are interested in strengthening this attachment to the positive
values of their past. For the whole problem of the Yemenite Jews in
the Israel amalgam can be compressed into one simple sentence: The
more genuine a Yemenite is, the better an Israeli he is
likely to make.
MUSIC-MAKING IN ISRAEL
MILTON KATIMS
When one meets with the many diverse elements that make up
Israel, one wonders how long it will take to weld its people into a
homogeneous nation. But when one observes the many forces at
work in this age-old land of miracles, one's heart brims with hope.
It was especially gratifying to me, a musician, to realize that music,
with speak in one language to the most diverse of peo-
its ability to
ples, is
playing a vital part in this process of
amalgamation. From
the southernmost settlements in the Negev to the îbbutzim in the
upper Galilee, from the teeming cities of Tel Aviv and Haifa on the
shores of the Mediterranean to ancient Tiberias on the shores of the
Sea of Galilee, music is a compelling, emotional, and spiritual part
of the lives of most of the people. No mere cultural veneer to be
slipped on when there is time, or to be sought only after the neces-
sities of life have been acquired, music in Israel is a basic essential of
life itself.
From the first moment of my first visit to the new state, I was
struck almost at once with this impression. I recall my first re-
hearsals with the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra in concert hall, its
the Ohel Shem, in Tel Aviv. It was a hot, humid day, and all of the
windows of the hall had been thrown open to catch whatever breezes
there might Perched precariously on each ledge were youngsters
be.
of all ages, peering in at the orchestra on stage, ears strained to hear
every note. Their expressions were not unlike those of children gaz-
ing longingly at a sweetshop window; but here I felt that some of
that appetite was being appeased by the food of music. I soon learned,
185
186 The New State
too, that although the average Israeli finds the cost of living so high
that he has anything, left over for luxuries, he always seems
little, if
to find the price of concert tickets. For him, music is no luxury. It

sustains him in the face of the daily struggle.
In Tel Aviv-Jai?a, an area with a population of 358,000, there are
10,000 subscribers to the concerts of the Israel Philharmonic Orches-
tra and a waiting list of those who cannot now get tickets. (If the
same ratio existed between the population of New York City and
the New York Philharmonic subscribers, the latter would number
about one quarter of a million.) More Israelis, in proportion to their
population, listen to music than anywhere else in the world.
Of course, it is true that the people of Israel do not have many of
the recreational facilities or the distractions to be found in other
countries. But this not enough to explain the phenomenon of
alone is
an audience's reaction to a concert of well-played, good music. Dr.

Ira Eisenstein, in a penetrating article entitled "What Concerts Do
to Israelis," writes: "A concert by the orchestra in Israel, especially
when given under the baton o a great visiting conductor ... is
transformed from a purely aesthetic experience into a reaffirmation
of life itself." To be sure, the Israelis love music, and the perform-
l
ances are of a consistently high level; but to explain the unusual be-
havior of audiences at concerts, one must probe beneath the mere
vociferous approval of the listeners and find perhaps, with Dr.
Eisenstein, that these people "sense the need for expressing through
their cheers and applause, the triumph of their cause the vindica-
tion of their sacrifices. At the close of a Beethoven symphony they
celebrate the miracle that transformed them from tolerated or re-
jected strangers, to hosts, hosts at last, to the culture of other na-
tions."
While there is, perhaps, no one explanation for the place that
music has in the hearts of Israelis, the important thing is that the
phenomenon does exist and that I have had the thrill of sharing it
with them. Much has been written about the spiritual and emotional
replenishment brought to Israel by the many foreign artists who
1 Printed in a pamphlet published by the American Fund for Israel Institutions
upon the occasion of the visit of the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra to the United
States in 1953.
Music-Making in Israel 187
journey there to make music. This may be true. But it Is

really a
two-way street. I found myself greatly enriched by the experience
of my music-making in this cultural oasis in the desert of the Middle
East. Like sound which must have ears to exist or plants which
thrive only in fertile soil, so a musician with an actively receptive
audience is inspired to greater heights. I came away from Israel with
the feeling of having had my own emotional batteries recharged.
My first concert in a \ibbutz with the Israel Philharmonic was in
Amir, in upper Galilee. Situated on the banks of the River Jordan,
the amphitheater had just been built, the stage not quite finished.
Preparations for this first concert in the new outdoor theater had
been going on for months. The orchestra and I arrived by bus
late in the afternoon and were soon seated in the dining room
having supper. Wherever we went to play, the musicians were the

first to be fed. But then, the musician in Israel is always made to
feel like someone a little apart a special kind of emissary, awaited

with a sense of high anticipation. And, I might add, when a visiting
artist sits down in such a dining room with men and women from
all walks of life united in the exciting cause of building a new coun-
try, it is conducive to an interchange of cultures an emotional rap-

port which, for the artist, makes him respond to Israel more inti-
mately than to most other places. Informality and a warm hospitality

pervaded this particular occasion. Throughout the day people from
the surrounding settlements had kept pouring in until every available
square foot in the amphitheater was occupied. They had come in
trucks, in buses, on motorcycles, on bicycles, and on foot, and were
eagerly awaiting the opening chords of the Beethoven overture.
When I turned to acknowledge the enthusiastic response that greeted
its and saw those hundreds of faces lighted by a full,
closing notes
orange summer moon, is it any wonder that I too felt a great sense
of fulfillment?
At the close of the printed program the audience stayed and
clamored for more. It was not until we had exhausted all of the
music in the folders and had played "Hatikva" that they reluctantly
started to leave. This was somewhat different from an amusing ex-
perience that I had at the end of my very first concert with the Israel
Philharmonic, It was in Jaffa, also in an outdoor theater. As we
i88 The New State
finished playing a Schumann symphony, I was amazed to see that

the entire audience had risen to their feet as they applauded. I
couldn't help thinking to myself: "What's this? The concert was
good, but was it that good?" I soon realized that the audience had
risen not so much in homage as in haste. Haste to get into the buses
that were waiting. No one had warned me of what I should have
known myself, that the transportation problem in Israel is acute.
It is difficult forme to describe (after all, my tools are notes, not
words) the moving experience of playing concerts in many of these
kibbutz amphitheaters, concerts attended by four to eight thousand
people many from Yemen, Morocco, and Iraq people who were
hearing such music for the first time in their lives. Henry Haftel,
brilliant concertmaster and one of four concertmasters of the orches-
tra, has said: "This participation in the cultural life gives the new
citizen a feeling of equality and promotes his social and cultural
*
integration." Music, the international language, is in reality an in-
sword cutting through the Gordian knot of language barriers.
visible
During a concert at Bet Shan, where again I had the honor and
pleasure of inaugurating a new amphitheater, the electric light over
the stage started to flicker during the performance and finally went
out altogether, plunging us into complete darkness except for the
glow from the stars above. The musicians continued to play for a
few moments, memories served them, and then
as long as their
dwindled one by one. For the next hour the audience
off into silence,
sat quietly and patiently in its seats waiting for the lights to be re-
stored and the music to begin again. We were told afterward that
the young fellow who had been running the hand-driven dynamo
for the electricity had left his post for a moment to get closer for a
better view of the players. When he raced back to the top of the
amphitheater to resume his duties, the dynamo had jammed and

refused to start again. This incident pleased me almost as much as the
fact that many of the people who came to the concert had walked so
far to hear it that they did not arrive home until sunrise and the start
of a new working day.
Organized in 1936, the Israel Philharmonic has raised the level of
1 "Israel Philharmonic Orchestra: Review and Preview," Israel Ufe and Letters,
October-November, 1953.
musical culture to new heights, and is the most Important factor in

the musical life of country. All of its concerts are sold out. Year
its
after year the orchestra demonstrates with increasing intensity the

vital role it plays in bringing music not only to the major cities and
fybbutzim but also to the army camps, the children, and the camps
for newly arrived immigrants, the maabarot. In addition, members
of the orchestra form duos, trios, and quartets all sorts of chamber-
music combinations to perform on their own in all of these places,
in settlements reaching as far south as Elat.
As is well known, during the war with the Arabs there was no
cessation of the orchestra's activities. Concerts were given in Ohel
Shem with the windows carefully blacked out. And the orchestra
usually continued to play during bombardments. When the besieged
citizens of Jerusalem began to get supplies through the Arab lines,
their first request was for water, and their second request, the story
goes, was for their Philharmonic Orchestra. Even today, the orchestra
disdains the safety of distance from the daily irritation of border in-
cidents. In the summer of 1953, when we played concerts close to the
Arab border, we had military convoys us out of the danger
to escort
zones at night.
One of our most was made up of uniformed
enthusiastic audiences
young men and women at remember vividly their ex-

an air base. I
cited reaction to the music we played. Many of them came backstage
after the concert, and I found them to be, incidentally, just as en-
thusiastic about good American dance bands as they were about the
symphonic music they had just heard.

As for the repertoire of the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra, it is quite
standard, much the same as that of our own major orchestras ^run-
ning from Vivaldi and Bach through a generous helping of the

romantic composers to Schoenberg and Stravinsky. Certainly no sub-
scriber ever turns back his tickets when contemporary works are per-
formed even though the moderns may not be his favorite fare.
As must be obvious by now, the schedule of the orchestra is incredi-
bly heavy, and since, moreover, the demand for its services is con-
stantly increasing, its members look longingly to the day when the
new Tel Aviv cultural center will be completed. Here, with a 30o-seat
auditorium, the orchestra members will be able to play fewer con-
190 The New State
certs for larger audiences and thus have more of their time and en-
ergies released to meet the

musical demands of audiences in the more
outlaying parts of the country.

The sponsor of this project, and the patron of innumerable cultural
activities, is the American Fund for Israel Institutions. In the field of

music alone it supports the Hebrew National Opera, the Haifa Com-
munity Orchestra, the Association of Israeli Composers, the Conserva-

tories of Music in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, and the New Conservatory
of Music in Jerusalem, in addition to the Israel Philharmonic Orches-
tra. And in keeping with its ever-expanding aid to the cultural life
of Israel, the fund recently introduced a new undertaking for the

musical education of immigrants by means of the organization of
choirs and orchestras. The fund is, in fact, the heart of Israel's musical
life.
I attended a few performances of the Hebrew National Opera in
Tel Aviv, and although the level of performance was not quite that
of the orchestral concerts, it was nonetheless interesting to note the
role opera, too, plays in the musical life of Israel. In this company (be-
gun in 1947 and currently being reorganized) the function of opera

goes far beyond that elsewhere in the world. All operas are performed
in Hebrew and therefore serve to promote both understanding and a
feeling for the language in an audience which often consists largely of
new arrivals. At the same time, the company educates its audience to
an appreciation of the form of the opera as a part of the total na-
art
tional culture. The opera young artists and musicians, and
also trains
opens a new field of achievement to composers and authors. This

company, too, looks longingly toward the new cultural center so
that it will cease being an orphan in the Habimah Theater and will
no longer have to continue with impossible rehearsal conditions and
a small pit for its undersized,
inadequate orchestra.
During my most recent was introduced to yet an-
visit to Israel, I
other institution actively engaged in furthering the cultural life of

Israel the ZOA House. For many years now, when the heat of
summer in Tel Aviv makes it too difficult for even the most ardent
music lover to brave the close quarters of Ohel Shem, the concerts
of the Philharmonic have been moved to an outdoor movie amphi-
theater in the suburb of Ramat Gan. With the movie screen as the
backdrop and the sky as the ceiling, the orchestra has given many
concerts to audiences that overflowed onto the benches in the gar-
dens outside and even sat on branches of the trees, sharing them
with the birds who chirped along with the music. This time, how-
ever, as soon as I arrived in Tel Aviv,I was taken to the garden
of the beautiful new air-conditioned ZOA House to inspect a large

stage and orchestra shell that was being built for summer concerts. It
was a very impressive structure, tastefully designed and constructed
with a thick plywood reflecting surface. Moreover, ZOA House has
an extremely active music program, which includes concerts by local
and foreign artists in its small modern auditorium during the winter,
as well as the summer concerts in the garden shell. Here, too, as at
Ohel Shem, automobile traffic is rerouted during concerts so that
there will be a minimum of disturbance. And although a low-flying

plane will now and then still add an unintended discordant or-
chestral effect to the score, I am certain that soon the planes will be
rerouted as well.
As for the guidance of music education in Israel in all of its phases,
it is not chance, or to a group of private teachers, or to a few
left to
music conservatories. In 1950, a special Music Department was in-

augurated in the government's Department of Culture and Education
which has endeavored to discover and encourage artistic talent among
the youth by granting government scholarships and by providing able
teachers and a school for advanced music education.
To encourage Israeli composers, the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra
makes a point of introducing new works from their pens each season.
The Philharmonic also awards scholarships for instrumental study
during the year. Both of my visits happened to coincide with the audi-
tions held for these scholarships, and I was invited by the orchestra
committee to participate as honorary chairman. The level of talent
was impressively high. Claudio Arrau, the famous Chilean pianist,
when he gave concerts in Israel spent a good deal of his time between
and performances listening to young Israeli pianists. He
rehearsals
was convinced that Israel would produce the next generation of
artists of the keyboard. Some Israeli artists, such as Ella Goldstein,
192 The New State
Menahem Pressler, and Sigi Weissenberg, have already come to the

United States and achieved success.
School was out by the time I arrived in Israel, so that I did not
actually see for myself how music is integrated into the curriculum.
However, I did hear enough about it to realize that from kinder-
garten on music plays a tremendous part in the molding of Israeli
character. The sight and sound of bus and truck loads of singing
youngsters, rolling down the road from Tel Aviv to Natanya in front
of the orchestra house in which I lived, always sent glissandi up and
down my spine. As in all other countries, Israelis see in the next gen-
eration the future and hope of their people. For this reason the chil-
dren, in the cities and farm settlements, are given every possibility to
develop under the best possible conditions. They are provided with a
general musical education covering the classics as well as Jewish
music, which includes liturgical and folk music and the contempo-
rary music of Israel.
Every parent, of course, would like his child to play a musical in-
strument usually violin or piano. But in Israel this constitutes a diffi-

cult problem, for the dearth of instruments, music, scores, and record-
ings is overwhelming. When

Helen Coates visited Israel in 1948, she
became aware of this situation, and returned in 1950 to spend four
months making a survey of the musical needs of the country. The re-
sult was Operation Music for Israel, of which she is national chair-
man, and which has set out to gather musical instruments and teach-
ing materials for the students of Israel.
I have often been asked for my opinion of the music that is
being
written by Israeli composers today. Is there a true Israeli music?
With so many people avid and athirst for music, has this environment
been conducive to the creative efforts of the Israeli composer? I think
it istoo soon to ask or answer these questions for a simple reason: the
native composers are not yet native. Most of them have come from
many different countries and naturally they have, as have other com-
posers, assimilated European musical culture. But there is no doubt
that they are now sinking musical roots into the new rhythmic and
harmonic soil of Israel, and they will gradually bring to light certain
facets of the modern Israeli spirit. There are many composers in Israel
hard at work whose compositions are already

being given perform-
ances abroad as well as in Israel The works of Ben-Haim, Partos, and
Lavry are familiar to many a concertgoer. But who can say when and
where a genius will appear on the musical scene and fuse all of these
creative efforts into a truly great Israeli score ?
Although, as I have suggested, the musical taste of the average Is-

raeli is conservative, he does take pride in seeing native works on
the program. He also has a lively interest in imported contemporary

music. I was delighted to find that one of our American vice-consuls
in Jerusalem was very active in bringing American music to the at-
tention of both the Israelis and the Arabs of that city. He held in-
formal recorded concerts of American music in his own home every
Sunday evening and, during the buffet supper which followed, he
encouraged discussions of what had just been heard.
As a country, Israel must stir the heart of any man. The pride of the
people in their progress, their hopes for the future, and their faith in
their ability to solve their many problems must awaken admiration
in everyone. Perhaps music, in playing the important role that it does
in their lives, will provide part of the emotional and spiritual energy
they will continue to need in order to bring about a new cultural

movement and so to consolidate the miracle of their renascence.
7
JEWISH AND UNIVERSAL TRENDS
IN CONTEMPORARY ISRAELI ART
MORDECAI NARKISS
The questions about Israel directed to me most often as a person

concerned with the history of art are: "And what about the art in
Israel? What is it like?"
For the most part, these questions are directed to art in Israel since
the establishment of the state, and for the most part I am inclined to
answer that art in Israel did not start in May, 1948, and from this point
of view art in Israel is not Israeli art at all. Art in Israel is older; but
it is not so ancient and so
ingrained as an art which has behind it cen-
turies of tradition. The art of Israel has just completed its first half
century, if we date its beginnings with the first artists who started
painting in Palestine.
As early as 1902, Abraham Neuman, a now forgotten painter who
suffered a tragic fate during the war in Poland, came to Palestine. He
left only a few paintings in the country, landscapes of Galilee, painted
in the days when his brush was dripping with the freshness of youth
and the influence of impressionism. Sometime later, the well-known
etcher,Herman Struck, visited the country, and through his work
discovered the beauty of the land.
These accidental visits were not, however, a cornerstone for a new
where, at intervals, schools of art had flourished and
art in Palestine,
perished, where iconoclasm, Christian, Mohammedan, and Jewish,

grew. These artists were only guests of the country. They only visited
194
Trends in Israeli Art 195
for a while, to paint. A visit does not mean citizenship and a tempo-
rary stay does not make tradition. This truth can be applied to any
country hospitable to artists. It is more true for a country in which
the artist is not tied to his milieu, does not work for it, ignores its
language and traditions, and does not feel its emotions.

The strangest thing is that the fundamentals of art In Palestine were
based on this contradiction. Boris Schatz, a dreamer and a sculptor
himself, devised a plan in 1904 for founding an art school in Jerusalem
to be named Bezalel the name of the first artist mentioned in the
Bible who aided Moses by building the Tabernacle and its utensils.
This plan was typical of Zionist thought at that time, emphasizing
primarily escape from the galut, the Diaspora, where the Jewish artist
had either to renounce his sense of belonging to his people, or to
apologize in his painting for his Jewishness, to show in his art that
Jews, too, are fine people.
Schatz wanted, first of all, freedom for the Jewish artist, freedom
for his creative soul. In Israel, in his own land, Schatz thought that
the Jewish artist could achieve such freedom. And although he knew
very well that in the Palestine of that time, 1906, there were no "con-
sumers" for creative art (among people who had no use for it, or
who were too poor to afford it), in Israel, he thought, art as well as
arts and crafts would be created to serve as a product for export to
the whole civilized world. The Jewish artist would be free from all
persecution, and Jewish creativeness would again show its force.
Jewish art would no longer be merely pretty or virtuous because of
the need of the artist to make his work and himself palatable and
significant for his gentile neighbors.

Schatz had to muster all his inner strength in order to begin to im-
plement his ideals. Hegave up a position as court sculptor to the
Bulgarian czar. This was a strange culmination for a Jew born in
Curland to exchange an academy he had founded in a Balkan coun-
try for a land which was, so far as art was concerned, primitive. The
plan, moreover, was a success. Soon groups of young and enthusi-
astic pupils gathered around him painters, teachers, workers and
the Bezalel School of Arts and Crafts became a reality.
Schatz brought to his school not only enthusiasm but a profound
196 The New State
knowledge of artisanship as well, which he shared with all who

surrounded him. He himself prepared his staff. But, nonetheless,
there was one element he lacked, one element he could not bring with
him & sense of tradition and a feeling of grdwth from the soil.
Schatz brought with him the European concept of art, the idea that
style was of the essence, but he did not bring the style. Nevertheless,
since style was essential, he set out consciously to develop a Hebrew
or a Jewish style, and he began to search for it in ancient sources. This
decision to pursue the revival of a style and of symbols, and to build
an art upon them, was as unnatural as the decision to revive the "for-
gotten" Hebrew as a living language within a world of new meanings
(even the revival was a necessity for amalgamating a people speak-
if
ing many languages). And it was even less natural to decide arbi-
trarily to paintlandscapes with the express intention of showing the
grandiosity of nature "wherein our ancestors used to live."
Nobody can reorder history, but it seems to me that if those pioneers,
Schatz and his colleagues, had taken as their aim to work and live,
to breathe the air of their new homeland and to stick to its earth,
perhaps then they would have reached this grandiosity. Was grandi-
osity theaim of the old masters? Did Nicholas Poussin and Claude
Lorrain seek this goal? They were always ready to hearken to the
voice of their country, to look into the beauty of their surroundings
and into the marvels of history. Out of their creative feeling they
brought forth an important art; out of attachment to their land they
created visions.
The founders of Bezalel wanted to create a style, and a style is not
something to be made to order. Style grows and develops by itself;
style isonly a sign and is created only when the artist is close to his
people, to their suffering and joys, their language and its literature,
poetry, and theater. All these did not yet exist in Palestine when
Schatz started his work, and the language, though Hebrew, was the
language of "stutterers" and the immature.
After World War I things changed considerably. Palestinian paint-
ers were more absorbed in their country; just as artists abroad, they
then started to be occupied with artistic problems. New people came
and brought with them problems that had arisen in Europe, But was
the country and its culture, its social objectives, and, most important, its
literature o concern to the artist? Were literary themes an emotional
stimulus for the artist; were the plastic arts an inspiration for litera-
ture and poetry; did each medium benefit from the others; did they
collaborate; did they fulfill each other? Unfortunately, they did not.
And there the Achilles heel of our art in all those years appears. The
artists sought a new style and produced many unrelated styles. With
every new brought by mail to Palestine, not only a new
art journal
style appeared but also a new "mode" like the changes in women's
dress.The vogue became the guide for the perplexed souls in art. And
allwere confused.
The artist was far from the source of his own life, far from the
source of his own people, and far from his milieu; he could only
describe his vicinity very superficially at best. When he depicted an
Arab or a Yemenite Jew who appeared picturesque to him, or when
he described the landscape and the life of the country, it was only in
the motif of an onlooker, not with the understanding of a native.
There was no distinction between the views of the generation of
* 1
Schatz and the postwar generation. The word "style had long since
been abandoned, but still it was "style" which concerned them.
The crystallization started in a newer generation in a generation
whose mother language was the language of its country. It is this gen-
eration which has produced and is producing the true Israeli artist, a
generation whose literature and poetry is written in Hebrew even if

most of it is translated from other languages and which is as far
from apology as it is far from styles. These men are bound to the earth
on which they grew. Their aim is to create freely.
They are, alas, only a few. Some of the older generation were driven
by the new country and the new attitude to take this road. Some of
the younger generation have followed it. But frequently the young,
gifted ones leave Israel and roam the world to learn. Moreover, the
young artist is easily influenced, and sometimes his cleverness in
execution compels him to imitate the "big" who are already recog-
nized. But it delights us to know that some young artists who discov-
ered drawing for themselves as a solid method, and who discovered
color and painting by looking into themselves and into the life
198 The New State
which surrounds them, are building new values for a new art in our
country. The War of Liberation has left a strong impression on them*

The European catastrophe has moved them profoundly, and they
have, in consequence, grown closer to the long-ignored people of the
Diaspora. Some of them left school and work before the War of
Liberation and even learned Yiddish, in order to be nearer to their
brothers, to educate them, and to bring them to Israel. Such experi-
ences have had a great influence on the development of our painting,
sculpture, literature, and
poetry.
I cannot indicate the significance of this development, any more
than another critic or art historian could interpret such a development

in any other country. The period when style was discernible through
media has gone, and a new art is emerging. I am sure that not only
I but many in our country feel it, hear it growing. We
feel, moreover,
that two trends one universal, the other Jewish are crystallizing in
this art, and out of them this new art will be born.
As for the universal trend, it is
generally recognized that all art has
undergone French art now dominating the scene.
a revolution, with
Art has become more imaginative on the one hand; and on the other,
techniques have assumed such importance that the nai've, the simple,
and the colorful have become the most significant aspects of every
work of modern art. The so-called national style, whose aim in most
European countries, and especially in Belgium and Germany, was to
depict historic events in a theatrical setting, has made way for a more
important style whose aim is a clear feeling, a special handwriting, a
special attitude. Nationalism has been forgotten and the new master-
pieces are the most picturesque paintings, the most truly plastic sculp-
ture. We
have now an art whose aesthetic appearance need not be
expressly beautiful. This is the philosophy of modern art.
It is significant for modern art, however, that, despite such uni-
versalism, French fauvism or French cubism is not to be identified

with German expressionism. Picasso cannot help being Latin, as
Beckmann could not help being what the French called "Boche," as
the Jew, Soutine, transplanted into the French school, tied to Courbet
and Rembrandt, could not help being a Jew who carried within him-
self the many perplexities and sorrows of life and the past pain of
long generations, learned at first hand in the atmosphere of a poor

Lithuanian Jewish home.
The universal trend of art comes through everywhere; it becomes
a means, a lingua franca of the whole world. (Picasso would say that
there are no schools of art, there are only paintings and sculptures.)
And art in Israel is as dependent on
this lingua franca as is art every-
where else. But as everywhere the country, too, must add some
else,
significance to its art, Art must grow out of the land and out of the
whole environment, its life and its creative features. And this special
contribution of the country should not be external only. If a painter
tries to put into a painting some Oriental symbols or
signs, some
Hebrew or Arabic letters, this will be only external; it will be an
empty painting even though it is full of symbols of all kinds. This
will be only calligraphy, but not human handwriting. I can predict
that the Jewish trend as an outward sign is going to be abandoned
more and more even by painters who use Jewish themes. The Jewish-
ness I am speaking of is other than theme. It is a philosophy, and it is
rather a universal one.
The true artist is tied to the life of his country and of his people by
his philosophy. His handwriting is not an external one; it is a mirror
of his inner feeling about his surroundings, about the nature of the
country and its social life and even its historic background. If the Jew-
ish artist experiences life in terms of the life of his people, he cannot,
as a Jew, paint flowers like Renoir, who is typically French his
flowers will look like those of Soutine, which drip blood, or they will
be like the naive and tragic flowers of a Chagall painting of the sun,
bathed in the landscape of his country. He will feel some sorrow,
some sadness this will be his conception, even of flowers.
To join his voice to the universal forces in art, with all their
achievements, all their power, is the aim of the modern deep-thinking
artist in Israel, as elsewhere. To remember in his art hisown identity,
where he lives, and what has happened to his people is also the aim
of the new artist in Israel.
To explain this philosophy of the artist who is a Jew, it is necessary

to return to the history of past generations. The art of Jews in the
period after the destruction of the Second Temple had not had its
200 The New State
beginnings in Palestine. The artists who worked in Palestine in that

era were not born there, nor did they find there when they came a
school of painting in which to immerse themselves. Nor, as I have
noted, did Jewish art start entirely anew in modern Palestine; it was
a continuation of an old tradition which had shifted from one center
to another, until in recent years it began once more to find roots in
what is now the State of Israel.
The classic question then arises: Did the Jews have an art of their
own at any time? Personally, I do not believe that there has ever
been an interruption of art among Jews. Art has interpreted Jewish
life through the generations, and in each age Jewish art has as*
all
sumed a shape. The art of the Jews was not a contemplative art,
new
for the forces to create it were not present. It was, rather, an art of in-
ner compulsion. In each age, despite prohibitions, some art has ap-
peared, even though most of it was a provincial art, a

folk art; as is
every art which arises from such inner compulsion.

There were never any "schools" of Jewish painting; but since the
days after the destruction of the Second Temple we can discover cer-
tain trends which sometimes run in broad streams, as in Spain before
the expulsion, with its culmination in the Castilian miniaturists, or in
Germany of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Sometimes, too,

the streams are narrow and small, as when suddenly, in a period of
absolutism, a group of traveling painters, copyists of useful prayer-
books, arises. This development occurred at a time when Hebrew
book printing had developed to an important extent; had reached, in
fact, its highest production. Another such minor trend was established
by a flourishing group of synagogue painters who traveled through

Europe, leaving a strong and lasting tradition. It was these last two
movements, small in themselves, which resulted, in the year 1700, in
the opening of a big window to the world's art for Jewish painters
of later periods, who, when they entered the universal world of art,
becoming at first court painters and miniaturists, neglected their syna-

gogue tradition to paint like all the others.
It is then that a crisis among the artists appears, and a man like
Moritz Oppenheim, born in Germany on the threshold of the nine-

teenth century, brings out, in a world of baptized Jews, the apologetic
movement of painting. He
begins to paint, instead of Nazarene car-
toons, a lovely Jewish genre; he begins to paint nice Jews in nice
Jewish homes, in which everything is quiet, in which all is cultivated
and smooth. It is ironic that at this
very time, when Oppenheim is
busying himself with scenes of Jewish family life, a baptized painter
named Edward Bendemann is painting historic scenes with a clear
Zionist touch.
Later in the nineteenth century, another group of painters, Jews,
but unrelated to Judaism, such as Camille Jacob Pissarro, working in
France, Josef Israels in Holland, and Max Lieberman in Germany,
all of them already educated in schools of art, themselves create
schools of painting: Pissarro as coleader of the impressionist move-

ment, Israels as creator of the Hague school, and the third, Lieber-
man, the man who transplanted impressionism in Germany. All of

these have a different attitudetoward art than the school of Oppen-
heim, for out of a provincial environment they shape a metropolitan
art.
In the same period, their brothers in East Europe, nearer to the

tradition of synagogue painting, began also to be secular and to use
Jewish themes only with reference to the apologetic. The first of this
group, who died young at 23, Maurycy Gottlieb, incorporated in his
painting motifs so picturesque that he showed promise of becoming
in his adulthood an important painter and artist. He was a man with
a vision even when he painted Jewish scenes. Afterhim came a gen-
eration upon whom academism hand. With them, genre paint-
laid its
ters at best, any hope for a Jewish national art had to be abandoned.
The endeavor of Schatz and his coworkers to give a territory to
the art of the Jews, the attempt to adopt Zionism for art, which started
with him and Lillien and Jehudo Epstein, brought little to the de-
velopment of the problem. Still, his endeavors did have an effect.
Young artists who came to Paris from Eastern Europe heard of
Bezalel. They attempted to build a reputation for a Jewish art, for an
art whose background is the Jewish philosophy which lies beneath
our consciousness.
In the end, however, Chagall and Soutine, and even Modigliani and
Jacques Lipshitz, were the men who brought modern Jewish art into
202 The New State
being, without even being conscious of doing so. Judaism was not an
external requisite to them, but Jewish thinking, Jewish feeling, even
the sharp irony and self-criticism of Jewish humor, became integral
parts of this art whose influence came to be like that of the giant
Sholom Aleichem upon the old Jewish learning and the modern
Jewish literature. The new artists were descendants of the old-time
synagogue painters, but also true pupils of Western art and of the
sources of universal The best of French or Italian art, the best of
art.
Dutch and Spanish was transplanted into a new means, a new

art,
language, abounding with vision and emotion, Jewish in its feeling,

in its sense of its time, and in its interpretation of the ideals of Jewish
thought.
No doubt this climate, this feeling, which was given to the arts in
Israel will develop its own creative expression. The universal trend,
because of its attractiveness, because of its broad horizons, would in-
volve the soul of every artist; the Jewish one, because of its philosophy
of descendance, of its feeling for what I call climate, would involve
every earnest artist whose brush or chisel is not to him empty and
external means, tools, butis tied to him organically like hands or feet.
Have these fruits ripened already? Is it already possible to recognize

these two trends in a work of art? Even a country as great as America,
whose although its start was like ours an ancient tradi-
art is older,
tion strange to newcomers versus an art brought over by colonizers
even America has not yet developed a school which could be desig-
nated as American. It seems that neither themes of American life nor
abstractions, which are an outcome of American development of tech-
nique, make American art. The trends of Americanism and uni-

versalism are discernible only to a few.
Nevertheless, in Israeli art something indigenous is already dis-
cernible. I feel something which is difficult to transmit to another, but
here and there an artist paints in a work of art this feeling of climate,
tied, at the same time, to a great feeling for the art of the world.
of soil,
Everybody who expects a special Judaism in the art of Israel will be
disappointed. The natural process of development must take its own
course, and we must be willing to understand that the current con-
ditions of life in Israel immigration and the lack of intellectual lead-
ership, for example normal development of our cultural

retard the
life. Ultimately, painting and sculpture will be but what they are, and
Jewish in Israel will be Jewish to the extent that people in Israel
life
live a Jewish life, as Frenchmen or Italians, as Americans or British-

ers, live in their countries.
8
CHARACTER CHANGE AND
SOCIAL EXPERIMENT IN ISRAEL
MARTIN BUBER
In a short paper such as this, I can only indicate the main problems
that have arisen in Israel in connection with the emergence of a
new type of individual character and with the parallel development
of many different types of social experiment within which that new
character type came into being. I do not propose to offer solutions
but only to clarify the problems themselves problems that have
arisen from the great historical fact of a Jewish settlement in Pales-
tine. I say Jewish settlement, rather than Jewish State, for though I
do not fail to appreciate the great historical significance of the Jew-
ish State, it is not ofit that 1 speak in this connection. I have believed
all rny adult life that a state is

important in history, even as political
forms are important, but that more important than political forms is
the life of man itself. More important than the state is society. There-
fore, I do notsee the history of the Jewish settlement in Palestine,
as many today see it, as merely a prelude to the Jewish State. I see it
as a great evolution in itself. History and sociology have not yet per-
ceived the real significance of this evolution. It remains for coming
generations of historians and sociologists to grasp the uniqueness
of what has been accomplished in this evolution and to recognize
that in it which is most important for the history of mankind and
for the sociology of men living together.
First of all, this is a new type of colonization, one utterly different
204
Character Change and Social Experiment 205
from what has previously been given this name. All other types of
colonization can be called "expansive colonization," meaning that a
certain number of men in a particular community or state want to
settle in another land for economic, political, or religious reasons.
The may come either from the state, or from economic so-
initiative
cieties or companies, or from men who want to live more
freely than
they do. Seen historically, this colonization must be understood as
an expansion of a particular state, even if, after a longer or shorter
time, the new settlement or colony detaches itself from the mother
country and becomes independent. The history of the Jewish settle-
ment in Palestine, in contrast, is not that of an expansive but of a
"concentrative" colonization. Before this settlement there existed,
mother country, colonies whose mother
so to speak, colonies without a
country had been lost and who had thereby lost their organic center.
We know these colonies without mother country and without center
under the name of the Jewish Diaspora. The last stage of the Diaspora
differs from all the former stages in that the Jewish people en-
deavored to go and build a new center for the existing colonies and
succeeded in this endeavor.
This fact in itself only provides the basis for a development which
is of greater importance. For in the course of this action of a
still
certain part of the Jewish people who went to Palestine to settle and
to build, a new type of man arose, a new type of Jewish man. This
means not only action but the coming to be of something that man
cannot intentionally produce. We can decide to go tomorrow from
New York to another country; we can decide that we will do cer-
tain things in that country. But we cannot decide that we will be
changed as men, as persons, and that a new Jewish type will arise in
the course of and through this action. Yet this is just what occurred.
And it occurred already in the early stages of Jewish colonization.
A new Jewish man arose, a new individual whom we call the halutz.
But we must be careful how we translate this word. Taken literally
it means pioneer, but a halutz is a very singular kind of pioneer.
He is, first of all, a pioneer who does not want to create something
new, but to restore in a new and modern form something that existed
in its glory many centuries ago. And the memory of that glory will
206 The New State
it, not as it was, but in a new form adequate

restore to our needs of
today and our modern mode of life, to our longing and our most
profound feeling as Jews and as men. It is just out of this goal of
restoration that anew Jewish type arose able to make it a reality.
not easy to materialize ideas. Before they can be realized, three
It is
things are necessary. First, the idea itself must be present. Second,
there must be a situation that makes it possible to materialize the idea
at just this time. And third, there must be the kind of man able to
accomplish this realization, the type of man who can lead other men
in this great transformation. This man was there. If there is anything
marvelous in the history of modern Jewish life, I think it is just this,
that thisman, this new type of Jew so different from all the former
generations, was evolved. To grasp just how different this new type
is, we must remember that Jewish life of a hundred and two hundred
years ago was characterized in the main by a one-sided development,

a detached and somewhat intellectual holiness with a rather prob-
lematic place in real life. The talmid hacham and the Jewish agent,
taking no part in the production of goods but only in their exchange,

live alongside each other and form together the terrible problem of
Jewish Diaspora existence.
And suddenly a new, a distinct and very different, man is there
the Jewish pioneer. He is not simply a pioneer among pioneers, but
the man who comes to restore this particular land. He
is not
merely
interested in any land suitable for colonization, but in just this land
to which he is tied by ties which are more essential than he realizes:
ties of which he is made aware by what he does, by the way he lives,
and by his very nature, the nature of this new kind of Jew. Yet even
this is only the first part, the first chapter, so to speak.
Until now everything that occurs and develops is in the realm of
the individual. The halutz is a new type of Jewish individual. But
this marks only the first phase of colonization. The second
phase
commences when this new type of Jew is no longer satisfied with the
new individual mode of life tilling the soil, harvesting, and baking
his bread in his own hut but wants more and more to live
perma-
nently in a new social form, to take part in a new type, not of in-
dividual life, but of living together. This means
living together on
the basis of justice, not theoretical justice, but justice in everyday
with the others. The halutz does not see the others as
life, justice
economic objects but as his partners in a common work and a com-
mon life. This second phase of the colonization was realized by the
different types of settlements. The best known of these are the tyb-
butzim, the most radical, collectivistic form. But incorrect to treat
it is
the fybbutzim as if
they were the only important form of these
settlements. One should be aware of all the different types in their
different forms, from the more individualistic ones to the cooperatives

and from the cooperative settlements to the ^yutzot and kibbutzim.
One should see them as a series of experiments. But again a very
particular kind of experiment.
First of all, these men are experimenting with themselves. Every-
one puts himself into the experiment. Second, the social experiments
by various groups with various forms of living together are not made
in order to decide afterward which of the forms is the best. Every
type of man in the great camp of the halutzim must decide for himself
in which form of settlement he wants to live and wants his children
and grandchildren to live. The experiment results in the discovery
of the different types of men to be found in the camp of the new
type of Jew, the camp of the halutzim.
This point is of especial importance. By living in one or another
socialform, each one finds out to which social type he belongs, which
he represents and needs in order to live as a socially happy individual.
This does not mean happy in the full sense of the term, for a man
can be socially happy and individually unhappy. But it is a great
it is given to men to live with one another as socially happy
thing that
beings. This means that each one knows that, in living as
he lives,
he not unjust toward his neighbor. It means, if I may be allowed
is
to use in this connection the Biblical term ve-ahavta le-reaha fyamofya,

"to deal lovingly with your neighbor as one like yourself." (This
but we
phrase is usually translated, "Love thy neighbor as thyself,"
should note that we have here not the accusative but the dative form.)
I mean not simply the feeling of love, which is a grace, but rather
what man himself can do in order to live a really human life with his
fellow man, dealing lovingly with one another, helping one another
208 The New State
to live. This is nowtaking place and has taken place in the genera-
tions of the new Jewish settlement. I believe this to be one of the
most important phenomena of modern humanity, and I am sure
that its importance will become more and more apparent in the next
generations in spite of all the crises, small and great, which must not
be seen as greaterthan they are.
This then the second phase, the transition from the new indi-
is
vidual type to the new social type. It is the development of the specific
social activity of the Jew returning to Palestine as a pattern for social
evolution in general. This new individual and social type has had
and now has a great educational function; indeed, one cannot even
understand the development of Judaism in the Diaspora in the
last decades without recognizing this educational influence of the
halutzim and of the new settlements on the Diaspora and especially
on the youth of the Diaspora. I refer primarily, of course, to their
influence on those who went to Palestine and themselves became
hahttzim. But I also mean those who did not go, who could not go,
but whose very heart was changed by this great fact that there were
just such pioneers and there was just such a mode of life in our
Land. Now this educational function was joined to another, equally
important, selective function; for the influence of the halutzim on the
Diaspora meant that this new type of Jewish man was being de-
veloped in the Diaspora again and again and in ever greater num-
bers under the influence of the first generations of pioneers. As a re-
sult, the people who went to Palestine were from the beginning a
select group, and under the continuing influence of the halutzim
they remained one. They were people who wanted to go not to a

land where it is easy to live, but to just this land, to live this difficult
life, because life there has a great aim and they wanted to take part
in this great common work of Jews. Thus those who went, and many
who only wanted to go, were not only a type but also, from the point
of view of Eretz Yisrael, a selection. I do not know if this should
be called a natural or a spiritual selection. But it is evident that men
who change their lives out of such motives are a real selection. And
for a long time this selective principle, which sent the best repre-
sentatives of the new type to Palestine, decided die fate of the new
settlement. It was built by just this selection.
Then came history, or what is generally called history the ex-
ternal facts and external changes that forced Jews to go to Palestine
not because it was Palestine but because there was no other land to
which they could go. This external historical development forced
masses to go to Palestine and thus created an altogether new situa-
tion. What rules now is no longer the principle of selection but the
inundation of the masses, and there is nobody who could now say,
"Wait till it will be possible for you to come," or "Stay there, you are
not able to take part in the building up of the Land. Wait till your
sons or your grandsons can do it." It is just this which history has
made impossible. And this is the phase in which we now live. The
coming to be of the state has not changed anything in this situation.
On the contrary, it has accelerated the tempo of this process; it has
brought in masses of new immigrants who must be assimilated to
the relatively small educated group. Thus we find ourselves now
in
a crisis. Our great problem is whether and in what measure those
central educative forces can do what must be done in order to in-
corporate the masses of new immigrants into the new Jewish life in
Israel
This is the problem of the present hour. This mass immigration
is, I believe, without precedent in modern history. There is nothing

that can be compared with it if we understand all the facts and all
the elements that are involved. stands as the great question which
It
the central groups that direct Israel must face. But the demand of
this new is an extremely difficult one to meet. I know
situation
something o the practical difficulties of this task of absorbing the

A
immigrant masses. few years ago, in order to do what an individual
and some friends could do, I founded a school for the training of
adult teachers for these new immigrants. Through my work with
this school I experienced again and again how terrible that prob-
lem is.
But we must also consider the problems involved in the develop-
ment of the settlements themselves. We must look, first of all, at the
2io The New State
particular principles of life on which these settlements were built

These are, or rather were, three. First, every man must live on the
basis of his own work. Using others as a means to one's ends does
not lead to real human life. This first, basic principle was taken for
granted by all and needed no discussion. Second, if men want to live
a human life, they must live together. Living together means living
near to one another, not just on one street or in one village, but in
a common life. They must help one another to live, produce together,
consume together, in short, really be together in such a way that
one has do with his neighbor. The particular form, whether co-
to
operative, community-centered, or collective, was not what mattered

most. Ail these forms were born out of one great longing and one
great certainty: men are created in order really to live together. From
thissecond principle arises a third, that these communities, or com-
munes, should enter into relation with one another just as the in-
dividual members of each community live in relation with one
another. This third principle, therefore, means federation, federaliza-
tion of community.
These three principles were realized to a greater or lesser degree
in the various types of settlement. But special difficulties arose as a
result of the developments of the decade. First, growing techni-
last
cization made it increasingly difficult to realize the first principle and
placed on men the demand of finding new ways of self-work which

might make use of this technicization. Second, there was the diffi-
culty, already touched upon, of influencing the masses of new immi-
grants, of drawing them by a kind of social magnetism into the

organism of the settlements that had been built by the halutzim. This
meant inducing them, or at least the young men among them, to
want to change their mode of life in accord with this new existence
rather than try to continue in the new land the particular business
they had carried on in Morocco or Iraq.

A third difficulty was created by the growing politicization of
Israel. The political developments and interests of the past decade
have led to a new stage in which the party spirit has become stronger
than that of any other type of association. This brought about the
present situation in which the federation of the communes with one

another has become less important than the party ties between the
communes. The ties between one commune and another are not
determined, as they should be, by the neighborhood and type of
colony, but by the political orientation of the communes. This is the
source of those crises which have plagued the internal life of Israel
in recent years.
The task which now confronts us, consequently, is to overcome
these difficulties realistically, without regressing. There is no going
back. We cannot return to what existed before the technicization,
before the mass immigration, before the politicization. must find We
new means to accomplish the old aims. It is just possible that we
shall succeed in this if the youth of Israel come to realize in ever
greater degree that the whole fate of the realization of their ideal
depends now on overcoming these difficulties and the crises which

they have produced.
The new social life that has evolved in Palestine has a significant
bearing on the relations between Israel and the outside world, and
especially on Israel's relationship to the other people of the Near
East, particularly the Arabs. I am a member of a group that once

sought a solution for the isolation of Israel in the Near East by seek-
ing a wayof cooperation between Israel and the Arabs. There were
friends of mine who thought a binational state the best form for
such cooperation. I was inclined toward a federation. This question
isnow an academic one since history has decided against either solu-
tion.But the basic problem remains: What will be the relation be-
tween our people in Israel and their neighbors? This is the essential
question both for Israel and for her neighbors. There cannot, in my
opinion, be any rebuilding of the Near East adequate to the great
task of modern times without the real cooperation of all these peoples*
But how can this cooperation come into being?
Most of us are so accustomed to political thinking that we view our
era as one in which hot war has been succeeded by cold war and
believe that on a certain day the cold war will cease too and there
will be peace. I think this a great illusion. A peace that comes about
212 The New State
through cessation of war, hot or cold, is no real peace. Real peace,

a peace that would be a real solution, is organic peace. A great peace
means cooperation and nothing else. What is less than this is nothing.
How can such an organic peace be brought about? It seems to me a
terribly difficult must confess, and I do not see that it

thing to do, I
can be done by political means alone. Political action must be pre-
ceded by a revolutionary change in the peoples of the Near East. By
revolutionary I do not mean the influence of certain systems which
call themselves "socialist." On
the contrary, I see a great danger in
these systems. The
only thing, in my opinion, that could bring about
real peace, real cooperation, is the influence of the best that Israel has
produced, the new social forms of life, on the Arab people. The
Arabs need this influence. They need a great agrarian reform, a just
distribution of the and the formation of small communities
soil,
which would be the organic cells of this new economy and this new
society.
Do not think that I have in my pocket a blueprint of how this
ultimate solution can be brought about! I do not know how we can
accomplish it, but I see the direction. There is no other direction.
Through a renewed and ever more intensive development of our
new social forms, through a renaissance of these social forms in spite
of all difficulties that now attend them, we can bring about another
kind of revolution than what is generally called by that name.
In a chapter in my book, Paths in Utopia, I have dealt very im-
perfectly with some of these problems. At the conclusion of this
chapter I opposed Jerusalem to Moscow, each standing for a particu-
lar type of socialism. Is it proper, asks a rather sensible critic, that I
allow Jerusalem to stand for the "utopian socialism" with which it
has had so few historical ties? (A statement which is, in fact, histori-
cally inexact.) What does the community of communities mean in
concrete terms, he asks, and what level or levels of social reality will
bring it to life? Finally, he asks whether it is right for me to put be-
fore mankind a choice between two types of socialism at a time when
far more serious and demanding issues confront the world? Even in
Israel, he asserts, the socialist impetus and the faith in the kibbutzim
are largely exhausted. This last statement is not at all exact. It is a
boundless exaggeration of a crisis that really exists and that must

be recognized and overcome as such. Such crises are part of the life
of man and the
of society.
life
Actually, I doubt
if there is
anything more important today than
the choice between two types of socialism. What matters most is
that we know that there are two possibilities and that we are called
upon to choose between them. One is a so-called socialism that is im-
posed from above, allowing people to live only one way and not other-
wise; the other is a socialism from below, a socialism of spontaneity
arising out of the real life of society. In this new form of society, men
live a just life with one another, not because such a life is imposed on
them, but because they want to live in this way. A part of this social-
ism of spontaneity is the possibility of living in one or another type
of settlement, but all
types have in common just this living together
in real community.
I two types of society and
believe that the decision between these
of socialism the most important decision confronting the next
is
generations of mankind, and I think that the coming stage of hu-

manity that will emerge from this great crisis of man depends in
great measure on just this decision. It depends on whether it will be
possible to set up over against Moscow another, spontaneous
kind
of socialism, and I venture even today to call it Jerusalem.
THE FUTURE OF ISRAEL
ALLAN NEVINS
1
In an address delivered in Jerusalem in May 1952, Mr. Ben
Gurion remarked that for two thousand years Jewish commentators
had exercised their ingenuity in critical studies o the Book of Joshua.
Their glosses had clarified many an obscure passage. "But/* said this
great leader of Israel, "all those commentaries, whether by Jewish
or non-Jewish scholars, grow pale when they are contrasted with the
brilliant light shed on Joshua's struggle by the battles fought in our
modern War of Independence." And he went on to declare: "Only
a generation that has won independence in its ancient fatherland
can understand the spirit of those ancient predecessors who labored
and fought and suffered and thought and sang and loved and
prophesied in this same land."
A visitor to Israel is struck most of all by this juxtaposition of the
very old and the very new which inspired Mr. Ben Gurion's elo-
quent statement. Here, as the Prime Minister suggested, is a land
whose every acre has been drenched in the blood of immemorial
conflicts: the land where Joshua called upon the sun and moon to
lengthen the day of battle, where Samson took vengeance on the

Philistine invaders, where Gideon chose his select band of warriors,
where Deborah sang her savage song of victory. Here in Caesar's day
Roman and Jew waged their unequal struggle. Here is the land of
the Crusades, of knights, as Gibbon put it, lost "in the world's de-
bate"; of Walter Scott's The Talisman and Disraeli's Tancred. As
1
[Included in Part I of this volume, pp. 18-28.]
214
The Future of Israel 215
we gaze on the ruins of Athlit we think of King Louis IX of France

shipwrecked in the surf; at Acrewe can summon up a vision of the
Knights Templar who there made their last stand; and on the sands
of Jaffa we can recreate the grim figures of Richard and Saladin,
mailed warriors at whose voice, say the Moslem chroniclers, "even
the horses bristled their manes." Napoleon's battle smoke curled
along these coasts. In not the least glorious of these chapters of his-
tory, Allenby's army at last overthrew here the empire of the Otto-
mans.
Not all the past is Here Micah prophesied that every
battle-scarred.
man would sit vine and fig tree to hear the Law issue
under his own
from Zion, and here Isaiah had his vision of the Almighty gathering
together the dispersed remnants of Israel from the four corners of the
globe.
That vision has at long last been made good. An uneasy peace holds
sway while a great work of reconstruction goes forward. Read so
recent a volume, historically speaking, as that extraordinarily vivid
travel book of Palestine which Sir Frederick Treves published in
1912 under the title The Land That Is Desolate; study his pictures
of the Moslem-ruled country of mummy-brown earth, hectic grass,
starveling scrub, and penitential rocks; shudder over his pages on

Eastern poverty, inanition, and the cult of the beggar; and then con-
trast with them the revival the pilgrim of today sees as he looks out
from the tall office buildings of Tel Aviv across the Plain of Sharon,
green once more. The pulse quickens amid the bustle of modern
Israel.
The eyes of the Israelis are not upon the past so intently studied
by the commentators of Joshua; they are upon the future. Indeed, it

would be impossible to find another country in the world today quite
so future-minded as this little republic. Make no mistake about it:
this new nation of Israel has come to stay, to swell in strength, and
to widen its influence. It was highly artificial in the mode of its crea-
tion. It confronts social and economic problems of daunting com-
plexity, some of them so grave that the most astute cannot guess how
they will be solved; we
can only say that they will be solved. With
1,526,016 Jews and 131,500 Moslems, it is hemmed in by seven
hostile
216 The New State
Arab states whose population aggregates 40,000,000, and which would

overwhelm it but for their mutual antagonisms, their internal di-
visions, their fear o world opinion and their wholesome respect
for the Israeli army. Much in the future of the nation is murky and
unpredictable. But it is
securely planted, and it will live and thrive.
To be sure, might conceivably be obliterated in a great his-

Israel
torical cataclysm, a third world war loosing vast destructive forces
in Europe and Asia. But in such a calamity some of the greatest
powers on the globe might also be obliterated.

Israel lives in its incomparable historical setting as a nation inter-
ested primarily, nay* almost exclusively, in the future. The very
exigencies of Israel's present position combine with the natural bent

of its leaders to give it an extraordinarily progressive outlook. The
controlling groups think in terms not only of the twentieth but the
twenty-first century. Planning is part of the socialistic attitude of its
people; its dominant, or at any rate leading, party is pretty much
the counterpart of the British Labour party. But even were the Israelis
as conservative as our Liberty Leaguers or the French de Gaullists,
dynamic planning would be an economic necessity; like the Pil-
grims at Plymouth, they plan or they starve. And theirs is more ex-
pertly progressive planning than can be found in most of Europe.
As a writer in the Manchester Guardian put it, Israel is a projec-
tion of socialist Europe into Asia "with more than a dash of Amer-
ican streamlining" and, he might have added, with the intellectual
keenness and resourcefulness that have always been a hallmark of
the Jewish people.
One aspect of this future-minded quality I found particularly re-
freshing. The people of Israel, or at any rate the important elements
in control, have to a notable degree let the dead past bury dead ran-
cors. They have acted on Winston Churchill's sane dictum that, in
regarding old wars, enmities, and injuries, it is wise to remember

only so much of the past as is useful for the future. In this they have
been wiser than the Arabs. Looking at the three-sided conflict from
which Israel emerged, it is easy to deliver sweeping moral judgments
which take too little account of the complexity of the forces involved.
Moral judgments are always risky. In the history of Palestine from
1930 to 1945, Briton, Arab, and Jew alike could take discredit for
much that was blundering, ignoble, and even criminal. I was pleased
to find a recognition of this and a repudiation of drastically partisan
moral judgments in the better circles of Israel. "We all have much
to regret," they told me. It was specially pleasant to find the rebirth
of a strong friendliness toward the British people, a recognition that
Allenby's conquest and Balfour's declaration laid the foundations

for Israel, and that Britain as mandatory power created a valuable
administrative system and enduring political institutions. This large-
minded attitude mirrors the true spirit of Jewish magnanimity and
idealism.
In the problems of the future, one, of course, looms out above all
others: the question of Arab-Jewish relations. Here the amateur can
probably speak as well as the expert, for neither can speak with any
confidence. It is obvious that two of the immediate neighbors of
Israel, Lebanon and Jordan, will not prove intractable if the greater
neighbors, Egypt, Syria, and Saudi Arabia, manifest a reasonable
spirit. It
is obvious also that a
great new danger has arisen, the danger
that the Soviet Union, for purposes of her own, will encourage the
Arab states in an intransigent or even aggressive attitude toward Is-
rael. The Western world must react strongly against this peril It
has too great a stake in the preservation of peace and in the mainte-
nance of this foothold of Western enlightenment and progress on
the shores of Asia. A volcano lies just under the soil of the Middle
East. I am
not afraid of border clashes; I am afraid of mob passions
and the subtle malignancy of Communism.
To say only this would be to deal with but one aspect of the ques-
tion. I am writing as a reporter, and I could not pretend to this posi-
tion if I did not attempt to make an honest report. In the attitude
of theArab states toward Israel something is attributable to genuine
fearand a sense of genuine grievance, as well as to ignorance, blind
resentment, and wounded pride. The successful founding of the
Jewish State was accomplished at the cost of driving between 600,000
and 700,000 Arabs from their homes, the responsibility for this doubt-
less being mixed. What can be done, therefore, to lessen the fear
and the sense of grievance?
218 The New State
An honest reporter can say that, beset as the matter is with dif-
ficulties, perhaps more can be done than has yet been attempted. He
can report that high American officials in Israel, wholehearted ad-
mirers of the new state, wonder if the genius of the Jewish people
for propaganda for efficient uses of the agencies o communication
could not be more earnestly applied to the problem. Large groups
of friendly Arabs inside Israel might be enlisted in a propagandist^
effort. Nor would Jewish groups elsewhere be entirely helpless. In
Jordan real fear does There was a moment during my visit

exist.
when, after a border through the sad refugee

clash, panic spread
camps on the baking plains outside Jericho. It might help if Jews
throughout the world made it more emphatically plain that they sup-
port the Israeli government in regarding the boundaries of the nation,

apart from minor adjustments, as fixed; that Israel has no intention
of acquiring the whole Jordan Valley or the headwaters of the Jor-
dan. It might help, too, if Jews throughout the world made it plain
that, in the final settlement ofArab-Jewish questions, they will give
ungrudging support to full, even to generous, compensation of the
refugee Arabs for property abandoned in Israel. Some 15 per cent

of the new immigrants live in homes formerly Arab owned. Indemni-
fication has been promised. Here is a matter in which generosity will
pay richly in the long run in material as well as moral returns; and
is impossible without outside aid.
generosity
My concern, however, is not with the bewildering question of
Arab-Israel relations. To me, as a very nai've, uninformed visitor, it
seemed that Israel was facing some problems of a very different range
and content. Two problems involving its future I thought it almost
certain to solve satisfactorily; for one additional problem, of tre-
mendous import to the world at large, the solution seemed much more
dubious.
The firstproblem is that of national unity. In over half the world,
the social and spiritual integrity of nations stands in question. When
we look at France or Greece, for example, we are deeply concerned
to find that much of the population has lost the coherence that springs
from a common faith and heritage. The French Communists and
the French of the extreme Right have ceased to share common as-
sumptions; they live in intellectual and emotional worlds so differ-

ent that they have ceased to be fellow countrymen. If a heavy hammer
blow upon France, might not the republic disintegrate as did
fell
Corap's army in 1940? Whatever the dangers in exaggerated national-

ism, a healthy national feeling is
absolutely vital. Spain in the 1930'$
provided an unforgettable object lesson in the penalties of spiritual
disunity. Our first question about the new nation drawn together
in Palestine from the four corners of the earth, therefore, must be
as to the reality of its national unity.
In this matter Israel has faced a special problem. It was the prob-
lem of converting a religious and racial community into a national
community; or so at least it would appear on superficial view. Ac-

tually, religious and is great. Certainly, the amateur
racial diversity
observer sees much religious disunity in Israel. Extreme Jewish
Orthodoxy is the religion of a highly segregated body of people,
and segregation long ago died a natural death in many countries
and was destroyed by violence in others. The consequence has been
a search for faiths to replace extreme Orthodoxy. How intense,
how agonized in some instances, that search has been, is evident
from the books which Jewish thinkers continue to publish. Martin
Buber's Two Types of Faith indicates the solution found by one
learned Jewish scholar; he examines the communal faith of the
Old Testament and the individual faith of the New, and gropes
toward a reinterpreted Judaism that will combine communal values
with a personal message. Karl Stern's book, The Pillar of Fire, relates
how a Jew with a sense of spiritual displacement and an unquench-
able thirst to believe found refuge in the Catholic Church. Simone
Weil's little volume, Waiting on God, the work of a scholar of pas-
sionate sincerity, describes how she rejected Orthodox Judaism;

how, living in a Catholic country, she rejected Catholicism; and how
finally she took refuge in religious mysticism without priest or rabbi.
The point is that there exists in Israel today an extraordinary di-
versity of faiths; and nobody can move about Israel a week without
perceiving that multitudes of Jews are nonreligious. Students at the
Hebrew University in Jerusalem told me, with due consideration, that
two thirds of them had no religious faith. Their assumptions were
220 The New State
not just slightly different from those fellow Jews who blocked auto-
mobiles on the Sabbath by flinging themselves on the pavement
they were totally different, in fact, unbridgeable.
The idea that great reliance can be placed upon a racial fraternalism
in Israel seems to me equally erroneous. No such thing exists. Never
has a nation been more composite than Israel.Our American melting
pot is homogeneous compared with it. One deep line cuts it down
the center 45 per cent of the population is Oriental, 55 per cent
Occidental but numerous lesser divisions exist alongside of it. How
Occidental many Westerners are! The old story of a line of laborers
its members murmuring politely as each brick passed
passing bricks,
along, "Bitte, Herr Doctor" and "Danfa Herr Doctor," has a cer-
tain truth. And how Oriental are many of the Orientals! The
Yemenites, cut off for centuries in Arabia, were, but for their religion
and their pure Hebrew tongue, more Arabs (to me, at any rate)
than Jews. Polygamous, Oriental-mannered, strangers to knife, fork,
handkerchief, or bed, their very synagogues seemed half mosque.
But the problem is manifestly being solved; national unity is being
attained. The war, the other common struggles, the sense of abiding
peril, and that army experience through which all
young men and
women pass, a great Israelization machine, are mightily effective.
The irreligious college students obviously did have one religion. They
are very concerned with being Jews, I found, but they are
little
tremendously concerned with being Israelis. Patriotism is their new

faith and patriotism of a peculiar kind, bound up with that intense
preoccupation with the future so characteristic of Israel. It is seldom,

as Jordan fears, the patriotism of an aggressive state. It is a patriotism
which believes that scientific methods, modern technology, and mod-
ern economic planning can be applied to produce an advanced,
steadily rising, and socially harmonious nation even in an unfavor-
able environment. Expansion is to take place upward, not outward.
Israel is to become the industrial and commercial center of the
Middle East. No matter if it is small, half barren, and full of back-
ward groups so was Switzerland a century ago.
Thus integration is being produced. If Israelis have an astonish-
ing capacity for sudden little quarrels with each other, they have an
equally astonishing capacity for united action in big matters. Hugo

Munsterberg said once that the United States was held together not
by a common blood, a common culture, or a common history, for
these the people lacked, but by a common faith in the future. That
is just as true of Israel
today as it was of the United States in Theo-
dore Roosevelt's day. The optimism of the country, so exhilarating
to all who the abounding energy, the continuous talk about
visit it,
colossal undertakings, are born of the sense of being embarked in a
pioneering adventure, the realization of a bright common future.

In that there is no line between rabbi and agnostic, between sabra
and immigrant, between a learned doctor with a Breslau degree and
the illiterate, untutored Jew from Muscat. Of course the energy and
chesty big talk, as among Americans, sometimes go too far. I discerned

a ruthless drive among some young Israelis that the leaders of the
people would not like.
The growing fraternalism evident in Israel stems also from another
feature of its life, the social democracy. Men looking for a classless
society will not find it in Russia, where some are a great deal more
equal than others. They will find it, as I know from travels, in my
New Zealand. They will find it, we are told, in Yugoslavia. Most con-
spicuously of all, however, they will find it in Israel. Here is a class-
lessnation of practical optimists building for the future. The prev-
alent social ideals are those of William Morris, Ramsay MacDonald,
and Jean Jaures. In the kibbutzim we find Owenite and Tolstoyan
elements. Mr. Ben Gur ion's modest house and scholarly tastes re-
minded me of Prime Minister Peter Eraser's in New Zealand. In such
a society it is harder to preach ideological hatreds and pragmatic
jealousies, easier to inculcate brotherhood. And
in such a society be-
lief and puritanism is natural. The young
in the virtues of austerity
folk find Emerson and Thoreau congenial, and scorn self-indulgence.
"We don't want to be bankers, brokers, or traders," say many with
emphasis, forgetting that bankers and traders may be builders too.
The second of the three problems concerning Israel's future can
be briefly discussed. It is this: How
are sound living standards, com-
patible with the high social aims of Israel's leaders, to be achieved?

Mr. Harry Sacher, an English Jew, has put it in cogent terms. In
222 The New State
what way, he asks, can the economic system be made more flexible?
"Israeli labor wishes to enjoy all the material and cultural advan-
tages of the highest civilization, but has not yet reconciled itself
to
the simple truth that, all other things being equal, what a nation
it can consume." In this I suppose Mr. Sacher
produces governs what
2
iscasting quizzical glance upon the Histadrttt and its policies. The
a
young state has been and for some time can continue to be supported
by the unexampled generosity, the truly wonderful philanthropy, of
Jews and their friends throughout the world, but mainly in English-
speaking lands. Yet in the long run Mr. Sacher 's challenge will have
to be answered. The books ultimately will have to be balanced.
Will the balance be reached by an extraordinary increase in pro-
ductive power, or by a lowering of the standard of living and a
lessening of the degree of social security? can only say that it We
is not the Jewish way to consent for long to a reduction in living
standards. Switzerland has thrived by the development of a multi-

tude of highly skilled small industries. To be sure, Switzerland had
waterpower and adjacent markets. But Israel hopes to achieve as
much on her own economic and social bases. The economic basis
will include land reclamation, afforestation, mining, scientific agri-
culture, and the use of electricity. The social basis will embrace town
planning, compulsory education, a university and technical school
of the highest standards, and expert training in all the arts. good A
beginning has been made; the air crackles with hope. And what an
object lesson success would be for other and better endowed coun-
tries!Out of Chaim Weizmann's fermentation process for the produc-
tion of acetone came, in part, the Balfour Declaration; and out of
modern science and technology may come a unique Israel.
It is the third problem, however, which really gives me concern.
I was continually told during my stay in Israel that the Jewish char-
acter there was
changing; that the rising new generation would
be quite unlike the old. An American sociologist making a study of
fyibbutz life concluded that it tended to evolve a body of hardheaded,
rather coldhearted young people, the product of communal nurseries
and schoolrooms and rigidly assigned tasks. Pragmatists to the last
* founded in 1920.]
[The largest Israeli trade union,
degree, stronger, sterner, and abler than their parents, but devoid
of imagination, fancy, or subtlety, they would tend to regard every-
thing in a chill, hard, practical light. This judgment was perhaps
not significant; the kibbutzim occupy but a limited sector. But jour-
and other trained observers agree that life in Israel
nalists, educators,
today is from the life which Central European or East-

very different
ern European Jews led in the past, and that it is changing the Jewish
mind and temper.
Many Israelis must lead an active outdoor existence, on the land or
close to Many others will be preoccupied with the difficult task of
it.
making new state viable; with building factories, operating chem-

the
ical plants, managing powerhouses. The coming generation, as it
emerges from this harsh experience, may gain in balance and all-
round competence, but it will lose in intellectual keenness and pas-
sion. Then, too, the traditional character of the Jew will inescapably
be affected by the intermarriage of Occidental and Oriental, already
beginning. The Oriental strain has its virtues. But it is likely to impair
the intellectual level of the Occidental element, and even to reduce
their working capacity; for the folk of North Africa, Iraq, Yemen,
and other lands have been accustomed to toil in brief spasms rather
than at sustained, continuous hard labor.
Whenever English or continental people migrated overseas, the
result to the colonists involved was a gain in practical and a loss in
intellectual talents, the formation of an outlook more materialistic
and The level of culture in the American colonies and
less idealistic.
Australia was much below that of old England. The French migrants
to Quebec have never approached the intellectual standards of the
land they forsook. The Germans who went to Pennsylvania in the
eighteenth century became rude and provincial compared with the
brethren they left in the Rhineland. World conditions have changed,
and the Jews are a very specially gifted people; but is there danger
of a similar loss of cultural distinction? The peopling of Israel co-
incides with the dispeopling, so far as Jews go, of a great part of
Europe. The quick, pulsing currents of intellectual vitality which

flowed from Jewish Berlin, Jewish Vienna, Jewish Paris will their
loss not be felt?
224 The New State
Whatever the Dispersion meant to the Jewish people, to the culture

of other nations it was an inestimable blessing. Migrating to other
lands, the Jews infused into the life of their adopted nations intel-
lectualand emotional qualities which could have been obtained
from no other source. It was one of the vocations of the Jews to illus-
trate a healthy predominance of the spiritual over the material ele-
ments in life. It was another of their vocations to originate and dis-
seminate ideas, for the conditions of their existence made for the
cultivation of abstract thinking. It was still another of their voca-
tions topromote a spirit of cosmopolitanism a healthy, a humani-
tarian cosmopolitanism, with the welfare of the world its object*
We may rejoice in the spectacle of happy, exuberant, adventurous
pioneering which Israel now presents. But we cannot help asking:
Will the which the hard struggle on that coastal margin of Asia
traits
demands not interfere with the traits which have made Jewry, gen-
eration after generation, one of the chief leavening forces of civiliza-
tion? If any such peril exists, what steps must be taken to avert it?
We look back across the centuries and think of Philo, who dwelt
In Alexandria in the first half of the first Christian century a man
of eminent family and marked political distinction. He is remem-
bered for the lofty purity of his character; for the breadth of his learn-
ing, skilled as he was in letters, music, art, mathematics, and the
physical sciences; for the beauty of his writings; and, above all, for
the profundity of his philosophical thought. This Hellenic Jew be-
came one of the chief ornaments of the Neoplatonic school of Greek
philosophy, and an epigrammatist of the time remarked that it was
questionable whether it would be better to think of Philo as Platoniz-
ing, or Plato as Philonizing. A
Grecian, he was yet a Hebrew; and
as the poem of Heine upon him reminds us, he succeeded in fusing
the Greek delight in beauty and the Judean thought of God.
Or we look back across the centuries to Judah Ha-Levi, one of the
great names of twelfth-century Spain. Born in Castile, trained in the
best schools of southern Spain, he too became a scholar of vast
erudition. He was deeply versed in Rabbinic studies. He took up the
profession of medicine and distinguished himself in it. But above

all he was a poet, and he began in his youth to add poetic jewels to
the literature of three languages the Arabic, the Hebrew, and the
Spanish. Like Philo, he fused the spiritual elements of different

His greatest poem, Cuzari, is a glorification of Hebrew
civilizations.
faith and
culture, but also a statement of the lofty mission of the
Jewish people as international teachers. Or, looking not so far back,
we think of the three great Jewish thinkers with whom Lord Bal-
four dealt in the address with which he opened the Hebrew Uni-
versity: Karl Marx, Bergson, and Freud.
It would be a misfortune to the entire world if the capacity of the
Jewish people to contribute to the intellectual and moral leadership
of mankind were notably diminished. Any such diminution would
be a high forfeit to pay even for so great a gain as the secure estab-
lishment of the progressive new nation. The Dispersion is largely
ended. Henceforth most of the effective energies of Judaism will
probably be concentrated in Israel and the English-speaking countries.
This fact in itself cannot but reduce the exemplary cosmopolitanism
so characteristic of the people. Vienna may never again have a Freud,
nor Berlin an Einstein. The main
problem, however, relates to that
transformation of Jewish character at home, of which I heard so
much in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv.
In the hard practical work of political and economic pioneering,
the million and a half Israelis will inevitably find the physical side
of their nature developed, their traits of sturdiness, resourcefulness,
and decision enhanced. Can this be accomplished without a loss of
idealism, of spirituality, of the subtler, more refined, and more sensi-

tive elements of the mind? It is a problem which must perplex Mr.
Ben Gurion as he turns each day from his beloved pages of Spinoza
and the Greek classics to the study of phosphate deposits and hydro-
electric schemes. The danger is that men who follow Mr. Ben Gurion
and such cultivated associates as Moshe Sharett will have no interest
whatever in Spinoza, the Greek classics, and the values they repre-
sent. This is the greatest problem that Israel faces, and many in that
country agreed with me that the solution is dubious.

Because it is so vital a problem, it should engage the concern of
Jews everywhere. Spiritual survival important as physical sur-
is as
vival. It is inspiring to see how ambitiously the elements of modern

226 The New State
Jewish, culture have been transplanted to the land of the Prophets:

symphony orchestras, art theaters, scientific laboratories, schools of
painting and sculpture, archaeological enterprises. It is also a little
depressing to see how these institutions and the great Hebrew Uni-
versity have to scrimp, struggle, andin an atmosphere of anxiety
toil
and have to consent to real losses of vitality because of a tendency

among overseas friends of Israel to give too great a precedence to
practical undertakings. A
proposal for the partial solution of this
problem, one in harmony with the finest traditions of Jewish culture,
was made by Dr. Louis Finkelstein upon the same occasion at which
Mr. Ben Gurion spoke. Why not harness the optimism, the pro-
gressiveness, the exhilarated energy so evident in Israel, for a few

tasks of bold cultural pioneering? this was in essence his challenge.
And he suggested the establishment in Jerusalem of a world academy,
to which some of the finest spirits of the globe might be brought as
they retired from active affairs or scholarship, and where they might
pool their wisdom and mature plans for the betterment of mankind.
As we hear such voices, we can be hopeful of a solution of the
great problem. The phoenix of the old order dies in lambent flame
and agony; but from the blaze arises, in glowing colors, a reborn
phoenix of more harmonious form and resplendent plumage so, we
must hope, it will be said of the twentieth-century Jewish intellect and
culture.
PART IV
AMERICA AND ISRAEL

THE LAND OF ISRAEL IN THE
ANGLO-SAXON TRADITION
HOWARD MUMFORD JONES
The subject allotted me is so vast I cannot hope to encompass it;

all I can hope is to be suggestive to indicate a few highlights in this
strange, eventful intellectual history. Other scholars may well turn
to basic research on the theme, since it is not only interesting as a
problem in international culture but also as a theme touching upon

religion, romance, and a variety of other human concerns. In the
space assigned me I shall have to omit, however, every consideration
except literature, albeit the problem of the pictorial representation of
Palestine in the tradition is an absorbing one.
"Israel" is a word referring either to the nation or to the land, but
it isof relatively recent use in the Anglo-Saxon tradition. That tradi-
tion commonly prefers to speak either of Palestine, the Holy Land, or
Syria. The boundaries of none of these areas is

precise, but each has
its special emotional overtones. For Christians the Holy Land means
that part of present-day Israel and contiguous territory associated with
the life and teachings of Jesus and of his immediate followers; but
maps in Christian Bibles vary from age to age and from edition to
edition, "Palestine" refers more particularly to the general area in
which most of the events of the Old Testament occurred, but the re-
lation of Canaan to Palestine is never quite settled. For example, an
old Bible of mine avoids the problem by printing a map of Canaan
in the "Patriarchal Ages" without boundaries; yet three maps, later
229
230 America and Israel
in historical time, vary its boundaries, notably in respect to the terri-
tory east of Jordan and the Dead Sea.

These are minor matters, but two other difficulties appear. A travel
book with "Holy Land" in its title is obviously relevant to our in-
quiry, but by other travelers the Holy Land may be merged into
larger areas say, Syria. In English poetry, Syria often takes on a
special connotation, Christian in character. For example, the phrase,
"the blue of Syrian skies,", refers in fact to the blue sky of Israel but
symbolically to the Holy Land. The point is not the propriety of melt-
ing the Holy Land into Syria, but to determine in what sense "Syria"
or "Syrian" is used in any paragraph. It is sometimes only by a good
deal of effort that the student can be sure he has discovered in any
book, indexed or not, all the passages dealing with Palestine.
The term "Anglo-Saxon" seems to offer no great difficulty, yet
is. We
difficulty there may understand by it what has been written
or printed about Palestine in English, Scottish, and American litera-
ture and also include that earlier phase of English letters we call Old
English. But the descriptions of Palestine in "Anglo-Saxon" letters

are not necessarily by Anglo-Saxons, or, for that matter, by Americans
or Scotsmen. Indeed, were we to insist upon a strict interpretation,
we should have to omit Disraeli, scarcely a representative Nordic

blond. It is clearly better to be generous. A
matter of greater import,
especially in the earlier centuries, is what the "Anglo-
to sort out
Saxons" had from everything else that is, to delimit their bor-
to say
rowings. For, in the Middle Ages, plagiarism, far from being a sin,
was a virtue. It showed you were a sound fellow, and therefore pil-
grims desiring to write veracious accounts of a visit to Jerusalem
generally stole from each other, representing themselves as seeing
things they may not have seen. Some of the originals came from the
Continent and in that sense have nothing to do with the "Anglo-
Saxon" tradition. And in later ages, in Great Britain and the United
books undoubtedly influenced writing about
States, continental travel
Israel. A classic instance
that of Chateaubriand, whose Itineraire de
is
Paris a Jerusalem, published in three volumes in 1811, was widely read

on both sides of the Atlantic partly because of its style and partly be-
cause of its combination of piety, shrewdness, and fantasy. Chateau-
Israel in the Anglo-Saxon Tradition 231
briand appears to have led some English and American travelers to

look at the Holy Land with fresh eyes. Shall we say this is in the
"Anglo-Saxon" tradition?
II
Israel has not been of equal interest to "Anglo-Saxons" at all times.

In general, though we Englishmen going there before the Cru-
find
sades, it was at first virtually unknown to most inhabitants of Great
Britain. Two it on the map. The First
of the Crusades, however, put
Crusade excited Western Europe because it temporarily freed
all
the Holy Places from the rule of the Saracens; and when Jerusalem
was conquered in 1099 and the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem was
established, these events seemed to ensure that Palestine would re-
main in Christian hands. But the history of that kingdom, as one
scholar said, proved to be "one of the most painful ever penned," and
the kingdom disappeared in less than a century. Then the Third
Crusade, undertaken in 1189 under the Emperor Frederick I of Ger-
many, engaged the services of Richard the Lion-Hearted, whose op-
ponent, Saladin, most persons remember from Scott's The Talisman.
The romantic fortunesôf the English monarch were of immediate
concern to his subjects, and have remained a romantic theme ever
since.
Journeys to Jerusalem by Englishmen in the fourteenth, fifteenth,

sixteenth,and seventeenth centuries may be studied. Not until the
eighteenth century, however, does anything occur in history to call
special attention to Palestine. In that remarkable era two disparate
matters proved to be influential. One was the reemergence in Euro-
pean thought of the "ruins of empire" theme the doctrine, by no
means novel, that political kingdoms have their birth, growth, ma-
turity, and decay because of some cyclical law in the nature of things.
The theme has been revived in our time by Mr. Toynbee. Now the
decadent state of Palestine under the Turks, as reported by travelers,
aroused comparison with its former grandeur under Solomon or,
for that matter, under Caesar Augustus. Was Palestine an example
of the universal law of empire, or, as some of the devout argued, was
It under a special curse? An auxiliary interest in ruins, especially the

ruins o classical antiquity to be observed in the Near East, paralleled
the larger concern. For example, Baalbek, the ancient Heliopolis,
much visited by travelers, was thought to represent the operation of
the law of decay. This interest in antiquarianism inevitably spread to
cover the whole of the Levant, including, of course, the Holy Land.
The other eighteenth-century event of moment to the English was
the invasion of Palestine in 1798 by Napoleon, and the subsequent
raising of the siege of Acre by the British under Sir Sidney Smith.
The threat to British interests in the Levant was evident, and a special
interest in the Near East has
ever since been a matter of British policy,
so far as Israel is concerned, in the British Mandate of
culminating,
1920.
During the nineteenth century, two historical events tended to con-
centrate the attention of the Anglo-Saxon world upon Palestine. The
firstwas the rebellion of Mohammed Ali Pasha against the Turkish
sultan during the thirties. In 1814, one Abdallah Pasha had come into
power in Acre. He caused his Jewish secretary to be killed, but the

secretary, anticipating his own murder, had arranged for an inventory
of Abdallah's wealth to be sent to the Turkish government. Abdallah
refused to pay what he owed to that government. The Turkish army
thereupon besieged him in Acre. He sent word to Mohammed Ali
Pasha, the ruler of Egypt, to mediate between him and the sultan,
but he refused to accept the terms of the mediation. In order to curry
favor with the sultan, Mohammed Ali then besieged and stormed
Acre in 1832, and by July of that year had overrun all of Syria, includ-
ing Palestine. European powers, especially Russia and Great Britain,
became alarmed at the rise of Mohammed Ali, who proved to be a
ruthless sovereign, against whom Palestine rebelled in 1834. By the
end of the decade, a Turkish army and a combined British, Austrian,
and Russian fleet defeated Mohammed Ali, who withdrew to Egypt.
The sovereignty of the sultan over Palestine was restored, though it
cannot be said that the lot of its inhabitants improved under any of
these rulers.
The second episode calling attention to Palestine occurred because
of the bitter rivalry of the Christian sects for the control of the Holy
Places in Jerusalem. The

dispute principally involved the right of the
Greek Orthodox Church to place a star over the birthplace of Jesus
a right disputed by the Roman Catholics. The dispute became the
excuse for the Crimean War, which, though mainly fought in the
Black Sea region, involved Palestine indirectly. These two wars
helped to waken interest in the anthropology, geology, natural re-
sources, and economic future of the country. Even the American gov-
ernment became interested, sending an official expedition to ex-
plore the geology of the Dead Sea and the River Jordan, the report of
which was published in Baltimore in 1849. Moreover, during the nine-
teenth century, the dangers to Christians in Palestine from both
Arabs and Turks accentuated the international problem of simul-
taneously supporting the Sick Man of Europe and protecting Chris-
tians against his subjects. As the fanaticism of the Mohammedans
declined, the intensity of the problem decreased, of course. The events
of the twentieth century are too recent to require discussion.
Ill
So much for history. Let me turn to literature. In the oldest British

literature that of the Anglo-Saxons Palestine is a dim spot remote
on a gray horizon. The first English pilgrim known to have gone to
Jerusalem Willibald, an Anglo-Saxon holy man, who went there

is St.
in the eighth century. The narrative of his travels was apparently writ-
ten by a nun in the Abbey of Heidenheim, and gives an account of the
buildings in Jerusalem as they then were. Inasmuch as the profit mo-

tive is the seamy side of Christian pilgrimages, it is interesting to learn
that St.Willibald noted a profitable commercial increase in the num-
ber of holy places to be seen and in the holy legends to be heard. But
St. Willibald did not affect the imaginative literature of his country-
men.
Biblicaland hagiological poetry forms a substantial fraction of the
surviving Old English verse. Most of the poems of the school of
Caedmon, which flourished mainly in the seventh century, like most
of the poems of the school of Cynewulf, which dominated the two
following centuries, are either on Biblical themes or are stories of

saints. Two poems o the Caedmonian school are drawn from Genesis,
and get down as far as Noah. There is one on the destruction of
Pharaoh's army. There are two on events in the life of Daniel, a
fragment of the story of Judith and Holofernes, and one on the fall
of the rebel angels, the harrowing of hell, and the Day of Judgment.
But that any of these events occur in any special place is not evident.
The poems of Cynewulf and his followers principally concern the
New Testament, the saints, and the location of Paradise. One of these,
"The Phoenix," is an Anglo-Saxon version of a Latin poem by Lac-
tan tius, who flourished in the fourth century, and places Paradise in
the East, whither the fabulous bird flies every thousand years. By
some effort we can make out that Paradise is in Syria, just as in the
poem "Elene" we learn that the Empress Helena imprisons one
"Judas" in a pit until he agrees to help her find the true cross on
Mount Calvary. Judas' name is changed to Cyriacus and he becomes
bishop of Jerusalem. Possibly the poem owes something to Irish
Greek or Latin original. But as in the Bab
literature, possibly to a
Ballads of W. S. Gilbert we read of Full-private James that
no characteristic trait had he

Of any distinctive kind,
so we may say the same of Palestine in Anglo-Saxon literature. We
may note concerning "The Phoenix," however, that the fixing of

Paradise in Syria carries its overtone of wonder. That Palestine once
flowed with milk and honey was readily believed, and the legend
persists that, in losing this admirable economic abundance, Palestine,
after the Crucifixion, labored under the special vengeance of the
Almighty.
The principal references to that country in English medieval litera-
ture are of two sorts : those in the romances, and the reports of pil-
grims. Medieval romance in England never rose to the artistic heights

itreached on the Continent; and, moreover, many romances have
come down to us in popular and debased forms. Most of those I
have looked at date from the fourteenth century. When they have
anything to do with Palestine, they picture a country totally un-
real.Sometimes it is ruled by a king, sometimes by a patriarch, but
in either event it is
entirely within the feudal order. It is a land of
miracle, where, for example, a lioness nurses a baby boy until it is
restored to its mother, angels appear to Christian knights, and chival-
ric tournaments are held at Bethlehem. In "Sir Eglamour of Artois,"
a romance of the late fourteenth century, a gryphon bears the son of

Sir Eglamour to Israel, the
King of Israel rears the boy as his own,
and only when the king and the boy visit Egypt is the youngster
restored to his family. In "Joseph of Arimathaea," part of which is
lost,the Jews imprison Joseph forty-two years, after which he, Ves-
pasian, and fifty others are baptized, and there follows a long story
about the Holy Grail. In "Octovian," Florence, the patient-Griselda
heroine, estranged from her husband by a jealous stepmother, wan-
ders to the Holy Land, lives at Jerusalem with the lioness I have
mentioned, and, after various amazing adventures, is restored to
spouse and child, the stepmother being satisfactorily burned to

death.
Perhaps the most important of these romances, so far as Israel

is concerned, is "Richard Coeur-de-Lyon," from which Walter Scott
quotes in the introduction to The Talisman and from which he
borrowed. The plot, with omissions, runs like this:
Seeking the most beautiful lady in the world for King Henry of
England, messengers meet a boat with the daughter of the King of
Antioch on board. Henry marries her. The queen cannot stand the
presence of the Host at mass. She bears Richard, John, and a daugh-
ter. Henry one day keeps her in church by force; at the elevation
of the Host she flies through the roof, taking her daughter and drop-
ping John, who is Henry dies and Richard succeeds him.
injured.
There is a tournament. With the two winners of the tournament
Richard, disguised as a pilgrim, visits Palestine. He is imprisoned by
the emperor of Germany, has intercourse with the emperor's daugh-
ter, kills and tears out the heart of a lion sent to
the emperor's son,
devour him. Eventually he ransomed by half the wealth of Eng-
is
land. He again* seeks Palestine, this time as a crusader with an army.

He is reconciled with the emperor and gets back his ransom. He
quarrels with the king of France, but they are reconciled, and Richard
reaches Cyprus. The emperor abuses Richard's messengers and cuts
off the nose of Richard's steward. The steward assists Richard to

avenge the insult, and Richard defeats and imprisons the emperor.
There are adventures before Acre. Richard falls ill and longs for
pork. There is no pork among the Jews, so the head of a Saracen is
boiled and served and Richard promptly gets well. He kills many
Saracens. Whenhe learns the true nature of the pork that cured
him, he laughs heartily. Acre surrenders. There is a great battle.
Saladin sends messengers to Richard, who serves them for dinner the
heads of their friends. The king dines heartily on the head set be-
fore him. Saladin attempts to bribe Richard to desert Christianity.
The Saracens refuse to surrender the Cross, and Richard slays all
of his prisoners save twenty, who serve as messengers. This is the
end of Part One. We
can omit most of Part Two except to men-
tion that Richard conquers Palestinian cities; slays their inhabitants;
wins victories at Caiaphas, Palestine (which here becomes a city),
and Arsour; conquers Nineveh and Babylon; arranges a three-year
truce; and goes home, where he reigns for ten years. It is clear that
for romance Palestine is a land of marvel, a tradition that clung to it
deep into the nineteenth century.

English pilgrimages to the Holy Land begin, as I have indicated,
with St. Willibald, and in one sense have never ended. In the sense
that Chaucer understood pilgrimages, they began to dwindle after
Erasmus attacked the manifold abuses developed around them and
after Henry VIII destroyed the relics and shrines in England. In a
loose, general way it can be said that in proportion as Protestantism

increased in Britain, English pilgrimages declined.
For the curious about medieval pilgrimages, a little book pub-
lished by the Yale University Press, Friar Felix at Large: A Fifteenth
Century Pilgrimage, is an excellent introduction. The book is by
H. M. Prescott. In the fourteenth century, the Boof^ of Wayes to
Jerusalem by Sir John de Maundeville seems to have been standard.

A later book, The Information for Pilgrims f dating from 1515, by and
by supplanted it. that time, however, pilgrimage had fallen off
By
when Ignatius Loyola sailed from Venice to Palestine in 1523, there
were only thirteen pilgrims on his ship, the decline being due to the
conquest of Rhodes by the Turks, and to the weakening power of
Venice. The Information for Pilgrims is a hardheaded guide, telling

you how to bargain for meals, advising you to carry a crate of hens
with you, urging you to record the names of the inns or persons
you stay with, and warning you against thievery, seasickness, and dis-
comfort.
Three English pilgrims should be briefly noted. One is William
Wey, a fellow of Eton College, who made the journey twice and
from whom we learn that, out of a trip of thirty-nine weeks, it was
possible to spend only thirteen days in Palestine. A second was
Richard Torkington, who journeyed to Jerusalem in 1517. His ac-
count, which borrows freely from others, illustrates the hold that
Venice long held over the route to Jerusalem and also the difficulties
created by the Mohammedans.
Passing over the religious relics of Venice, which, says Torking-

ton, cannot be numbered, we learn that the pilgrims caught sight of
the Holy Land at Jaffa at four o'clock in the afternoon of July n,
1517, whereupon they sang a Te Deum laudamus. Torkington says:
This Jaffa was sometime a great city, as it appeareth by the ruin of the
same, but now
there standeth never an house, but only two towers, and
certain caves under ground. And it was one of the first cities of the
world founded by Japheth, Noe's son, and beareth yet his name.
The pilgrims landed and were received by the Moslems

and put into an old cave by name and tale [registry] their scrivenour
even writing our name man by man, as we entered in the presence of the
said lords. And there we lay in the same grot or cave upon the stinking
stable ground, as well night as day, right evil entreated [treated] by the
said Turkish Moors.
They rode on asses, were compelled to spend the night

to Jerusalem
in a field, and finally reached the hospice of St. James on Mount
Zion, where they were taken care of by the friars. Jerusalem he de-
scribes as "a fair eminent place, for it standeth upon such a ground
that, from whence soever a man cometh, there he must needs ascend.
... I saw never city nor other place have so fair prospects." The
various holy places carried remissions of sins, and Torkington care-
fully visited them. He saw "the very self place where our Blessed
Lady was born. And there is plenty remission. The stones of that
place where our Lady was born is
remedy and consolation to women
that travail o child." He visited a fountain where "our Blessed Lady
was wont many times to wash her clothes and the clothes of our
Blessed Saviour in his childhood." It is noteworthy that he says
almost nothing about the Jews until, on his return voyage, the ship
stopped at Corfu, where was a city "exceedingly full of people, and
specially of Jews," and where he describes in considerable detail a
Jewish wedding. It tookhim one year, five weeks, and three days to
make his pilgrimage. His book borrows freely from earlier descrip-
tions.
In the previous century, that amazing, energetic, and yet mys-
ticalEnglishwoman, Marjorie Kempe, who had visions, corrected
her neighbors, and cried out loud for religious joy or sorrow for
weeks on end, made her way to the Holy Land. Because she talked
incessantly of holiness, she was banished from the common table
on shipboard. She reached Jerusalem about 1413 in spite of deter-
mined and understandable masculine efforts to sidetrack her. In her
book she calls herself "this creature" and she writes:
And when this creature saw Jerusalem, riding on an ass, she thanked
God with all her heart, praying Him for his mercy that just as He had
brought her to see this earthly city, Jerusalem, He would give her grace
to see the blissful city Jerusalem above, the city of heaven. Our Lord
Jesus Christ, answering to her thought, granted her to have her desire.
Then for the joy she had, and the sweetness that she felt in the dalliance
of our Lord, she was in point to have fallen off her ass, for she might
not bear the sweetness and grace that God wrought in her soul. Then
two pilgrims who were Dutchmen went to her and kept her from fall-
ing, one of whom was a priest. And he put spices in her mouth to com-
fort her, believing she had been sick. And so they helped her forth to
Jerusalem. And when she came there, she said, "Sirs, I pray you be not
displeased though weep sore in this holy place where Our Lord Jesus
I
Christ was quick and dead." Then went they to the Temple in Jeru-
salem, "and they were let in at even-song time, and abode there till the
next. even-song. Then the friars lifted up a cross and led the pilgrims
from one place to another where Our Lord had suffered his pains and
his passions, every man and woman
bearing a wax candle in his hand,.
and the friars, as they went about, told them what Our Lord had suffered
in every place. And the aforesaid creature wept and sobbed so
plente-
ously as though she had seen Our Lord with her bodily eyes suffering
his passion at that time. . . . When they came to Calvary she fell down,
because she could not stand nor kneel, but wavered and shook with
her body, spreading her arms wide, and she cried with a low voice as
though her heart was about to break asunder, for in the city of her soul
she saw verily and freshly how Our Lord was crucified.
Marjorie had a series of visions at other holy places during her

three weeks in Palestine. The friars made much of her, and "also
the Saracens," who probably thought she was mad and therefore
holy. Shefinally got home
again, ostentatiously forgiving her coun-
trymen for not admiring her more than they did. I forgot to note
that, before making the voyage, she had argued her husband into
living chastely with her and had tried to persuade the English
ecclesiastics to permit her to wear a white gown and a gold ring.
The husband proved more amenable than the bishops.

In his great study of cultural contact between Christian England
and Islam during the Renaissance, The Crescent and the Rose, Pro-
fessor Samuel C. Chew incidentally traces the decline of pilgrim-
ages. Thus Fynes Moryson, the famous traveler, whose book came
out in 1617, is anxious to assure his readers that if he visited Jerusalem,,
it was merelyto satisfy his curiosity. Renaissance travelers complain,
like later ones, of Arab rapacity. The miracle of the Holy Fire was
then, as later, an occasion of scandal to Englishmen and the cause

of unseemly jests among the Moslems. Nevertheless, other wonders
remained acceptable. For example, the waters of the Jordan had
special virtue and would remain sweet indefinitely in a container.
Beneath the Dead Sea was hell, and the ruins of Sodom and Gomor-
rah were visible in its depths or on its shores, where the pillar of
salt that was Lot's wife was also visible. Fish died in its waters, and
birds attempting to cross it perished. Dead Sea apples became a stand-

ard poetic metaphor in English. Indeed the image of Palestine, by
the time Milton wrote, was compounded still of wonder and terror
a land at once alluring and frightful.
There is little about the Holy Land in Paradise Lost except that
in Books XI and XII the Archangel Michael unrolls before Adam

the future history of his descendants. So far as Palestine is pictured,
Milton's emphasis is upon the pastoral life of Abraham a theme
that continues in English poetry through Montgomery's justly for-
gotten epic, The World Before the Flood. As always, Milton is fas-
cinated by the majesty of geographic names. Palestine becomes for
him a land of space and indefinite grandeur, as in the passage de-
scribing Abraham's moving into Canaan :
. . . with what Faith

He leaves his God, his Friends, and native Soile
Ur of Chaldea, passing now the Ford
To Haran, after him a cumbrous Train
Of Herds and Flocks, and numerous servitude;
Not wandring poor, but trusting all his wealth
With God, who call'd him, in a land unknown;
Canaan he now attains, I see his Tents
Pitcht about Sechem, and the neighboring Plaine
Of March; there by promise he receaves
Gift to his Progenie of all that Land;
From Hamath Northward to the Desert South
From Herman East to the great Western Sea,

Mount Herman, yonder Sea, each place behold
In prospect, as I point them; on the shoare
Mount Carm el; here the double-fonted stream
Jordan, true limit Eastward; but his Sons
Shall dwell to Senir, that long ridge of Hills.
Of course, Milton never saw Palestine, and, in his blindness, de-

pended upon travel accounts and upon the Bible. Paradise Regained
(1671) has closer association with this reading by nature of its theme,
inasmuch as the three temptations of Christ are localized. Yet Mil-
ton's treatment curiously parallels landscape in baroque
painting; it
has even an operatic quality, and reveals literary tradition rather than
careful knowledge. For example, in Book I, when Christ walks forth
deep in thought,
He entrednow the bordering Desert wild
And with dark shades and rocks environ'd round,
and pursues his meditation. On every side he beholds
A pathless Desert, dusk with horrid shades . * .
Full forty days he pass'd, whether on hill

Sometimes, anon in shady vale, each night
Under the covert of some ancient Oak,
Or Cedar, to defend him from the dew,
Or harbour'd in one Cave, is not reveal'd . * ,
Various wild beasts appear, but
. . .
they at his sight grew mild,
Nor sleeping him nor waking harm'd, his walk
The fiery Serpent fled, and noxious Worm,
The Lion and fierce Tiger glar'd aloof.
By and by he sees
... an aged man in Rural weeds,

Following, as seem'd, the quest of some stray Ewe,
Or wither 'd sticks to gather; which might serve
Against a Winters day when winds blow keen,
To warm him wet return' d from field at Eve. . . .
The old man is, of course, Satan. But this landscape seems assem-
bled, rather than transcribed, and might be anywhere.
In Book II, Jesus lies down to sleep, again in a curiously operatic
landscape. He dreams the story of Elijah; then, on his waking, we
have this:
Thus wore out night, and now the Herald Lark

Left his ground-nest, high towring to descry
The morns approach, and greet her with his Song:
As lightly from his grassy Couch up rose
Our Saviour. , . *
Up to a hill anon his steps he rear'd,

From whose hightop to ken the prospect round,
If Cottage were in view, Sheep-cote or Herd;
But Cottage, Herd or Sheep-cote none he saw,
Only bottom saw a pleasant Grove,
in a
With chaunt of tuneful Birds resounding loud;
Thither he bent his way, determin'd there
To rest at noon, and entr'd soon the shade

High rooft and walks beneath, and alleys brown
That open'd in the midst a woody Scene,
Natures own work seem'd (Nature taught Art)
it
And to a superstitious eye the haunt

Of Wood-Gods and Wood-Nymphs . . .
This baroque landscape is at once everywhere and nowhere. The

mountain top (Book III) whither Satan takes Christ for the tempta-
tion is equally generalized; Jesus sees how from the mountain
two rivers flow'd,

. . .
Th' one winding, the other strait and left between

Fair Champain with less rivers interveind,
Then meeting joyn'd their tribute to the Sea;
Fertil of corn the glebe, of cyl and wine,
With herds and pastures throng'd, with flocks the hills,
Huge Cities and high Towr'd, that well might seern
The seats of mightiest Monarchs, and so large
The Prospect was, that here and there was room
For barren desert fountainless and dry.
I quote Milton at length for two reasons: first, it is evident that
the factual geography of Palestine has made virtually no impression
upon the English imagination as late as the end of the seventeenth

century; and second,
Palestine is seen through a veil of literary and
religiousimages having to do with the Bible as interpreted to fit the

Christian scheme. If the Middle Ages picture a Palestine that belongs
in fairyland, the English Renaissance, even as late as Milton, did
little to correct the wondrous image by an appeal to fact.
Literary references to the Holy Land increase in the eighteenth

century, but I am content with two matters. I described earlier the
enthusiasm for archaeology. One of the most famous English travel-
ers of that age was Richard Pococke, who wrote A
Description of
the East and Some Other Countries, published in several majestic
volumes, with plates, in the mid-i74o's. Pococke is in some sense
both product and example of the archaeological enthusiasm, and his
plates are exact architectural drawings of many of the buildings and
ruins he describes. In general he goes in for a kind of
dogged fac-
tuality: compare, for example, his treatment of the fountain where

Mary washed clothes with the passages I cited by Torkington and
Marjorie Kempe. Here is Pococke:
Crossing the brook, we came to a fountain to the right which is thought

by some to be the dragon- well, mentioned by Nehemiah (2:i3); 1 it is
commonly called the fountain of the blessed virgin, where, they say,
she washed our Saviour's linnen; there is a descent down to it of many
steps, and a channel is cut from it under the rock, which might convey
the water to the city. The Mohametans have a praying place before it,
and often come here to wash.
This is dry
enough, in all conscience. Of the problem of divine
vengeance upon Palestine, Pococke merely says that the land is altered
since the time of Josephus; and of Aceldama, the field of blood pur-
chased by Judas, he briefly remarks that it is now owned by Ar-
menians and that there is talk that the earth is good to consume
dead bodies. This factuality, I repeat, is a fresh note in writing about
Palestine.
The eighteenth century also saw the rise of the Christian hymn as
a poetic form, written by such religious bards as the Wesleys, Cowper,
and Isaac Watts.. Inasmuch as Palestinian place names had long been
interpreted symbolically or allegorically by Christian theologians, the
Palestine of Christian hymnology in the eighteenth century and
since has only a remote relation to geographic facts. Mount Pisgah
is moved freely from here to there; palm groves (signifying peace
or salvation) appear in unexpected places; Golgotha, the place of the
skull, becomes a green hill far away; and the river Jordan under-
goes as many extraordinary transformations as does the Sea of

Galilee. In some hymns the Jordan flows into an unnamed ocean, and
in others tempests worthy of the Atlantic swamp the waters of the
Galilee. The Jordan sometimes becomes the river of life and some-
times the river of death; if you stand on its "stormy banks," what-
ever that means, you can see "Canaan's fair and happy land" across
it, not to speak of "wide extended plains." The soul discovers a
1 "And I went out

by night by the gate of the valley, even before the dragon-well,
and to the dung port, and viewed the walls of Jerusalem, which were broken down,
and the gates thereof were consumed with fire.'*
sparkling fountain at Marah in one hymn; in another, the Jordan

islined by sinking sands. Much of this sort of thing had earlier ap-
peared in Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress.

In America, in the next century, the charm and lyricism of the
Negro spirituals were to remove these geographical absurdities to a
plane of meaning in which Biblical geography and event became
symbols of a longed-for freedom. Zion is sometimes the heavenly
city, sometimes a mountain, sometimes a country; Father Abraham
stops his charioton a mountain top, and Gideon's band, on milk-
white horses, is glimpsed over Jordan. The identification of the
Africans with the children of Israel enslaved in Egypt, of Moses
with some future deliverer, and of Palestinian geography with es-
cape across the Ohio River lends validity to this symbolism a validity
as powerful as that in the "Prophetical Books" of the poet, William
Blake, or in such a passage by him as :
I will not cease from mental fight,

Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand
Till I have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land.
IV
Palestine plays its important part in the romantic poetry of the
nineteenth century, when British attention was steadily fixed upon
the Near East. It is not surprising that in this epoch Jerusalem is
inhabited by gazelle-eyed, dark-lashed Oriental women. Thus Byron
wrote for Braham and Nathan in 1815 a series of lyrics known as
Hebrew Melodies, which tell the story of David, of the Exile, of
Jephtha's daughter, of Saul and the Witch of Endor, and best known
of them all the destruction of Sennacherib; but with no sense of
incongruity, this series begins with a poem occasioned by the return
of a Mrs. Wilmot Horton, dressed in black with sequins, from a
ballroom. Byron wrote:
She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
As Byron said, "Beauty in the East is

always dark," and the conven-
tion arose that the daughters of Jerusalem were all dark and beau-
tiful. An opposite convention pictures all
elderly Jewish women in
Palestine as hags. Byron's friend, Thomas Moore, in his Sacred Songs,
equated striking episodes in the history of Palestine with the prophecy

of freedom for Ireland and thoughtfully furnished Old Testament
citations to support some of his lines. This was in 1816.
Romantic interest in the so-called medieval revival refurbished
medieval romance, and commonly turned Palestine into a mysterious
spot whither a crusader crossed in love or anxious to prove fidelity
to his lady might go for an indefinite period. This can be verified by
reading Scott's narrative verse. Later on, eroticism became more

pronounced, and faith counted for less. Thus in a poem called "The
Staff and
Scrip/' in 1856, Dante Gabriel Rossetti reversed all previous
theological values. In the Gesta Romanorum, a collection of moral
tales descending from the Middle Ages, he found a story concern-
ing a noble lady who suffered injury from a tyrant. pilgrim visits A
her and offers to fight for her if she will keep his pilgrim staff and
his scrip in her chamber, should he die. He conquers and dies; but
after some years the lady, wooed by three kings, forgets her vow,
removes staff and scrip, and marries one of her suitors. The moral
gloss is this:
My beloved, the lady is the human soul, and the tyrant is the devil, who
spoils us ofour heavenly inheritance. The pilgrim is Christ, who fights
for and redeems us; but, forgetful of His services, we receive the devil,
the world, and the flesh in the chamber of our souls; and put away the
memorials of our Saviour's love.
Rossetti throws all this overboard, combines this tale with another
anecdote, and tells of a Queen Blanchelys, against whom a Duke
Luke note the name is warring. A
pilgrim knight visits her and
is stricken with passion:
For him, the stream had never well'd

In desert tracts malign,
So sweet; nor had he ever felt
So faint in the sunshine

Of Palestine.
He vows to aid her; she vows to keep his staff and scrip; she gives
him a green banner with a white lily embroidered on it;
he fights
and and she, keeping staff and scrip,
is killed; dies after ten years,
when they meet again in heaven. This seems to have little to do
with Palestine; but in the poetry of the nineteenth century Palestine
becomes a remote country whither lovers can disappear. In Dis-
raeli's Tancred this theme is altered: the dark-eyed beauty of Byron
becomes the mysterious Eva, the Lady of Bethany, custodian of the

equally wonderful "Asian mystery" Tancred has been sent by Sidonia
to learn. Their love affair begins in Palestine.
In the nineteenth century there is an immense literature concern-
ing the Holy Land. Volume after volume of travels, usually by pious
ministers, English or American, appeared, their writers sent to Syria
by grateful congregations. Piety and were often the "notes"

credulity
of this library, the naive quality of which was ridiculed by Mark
Twain in Innocents Abroad (1869). Yet many of these books gave
a good deal of useful information, even though they stressed, as did
the Reverend Michael Russell in Palestine, or the Holy Land (4th
ed., 1837), the supposed special destiny of the country:
. . . the occurrences that enter into the history of Palestine possess an

influence on human affairs which has no other limits than the existence
of the species, and which will be everywhere more deeply felt in pro-
portion as society shall advance in knowledge and refinement. . . . Nor

is the subject of less interest to the
pious Christian, who confines his
thoughts to the momentous facts which illustrate the early annals of his
religion. His affections are bound to Palestine by the strongest associa-
tions; and every portion of its varied territory, its mountains, its lakes
and even its deserts are consecrated to his eyes as the scene of some
mighty occurrence.
The Catholic Guide to the

Holy Land, by Father Barnabas Meister-
mann (2nd an excellent manual, preserves in the twenti-
ed., 1923),
eth century the pious point of view. But the point of view is Chris-
tian, not Jewish, and the interpretation follows from this premise.
An enormous fictional library exists in the nineteenth century

concerning Palestine, from George Croly's Salathiel (1829), a story
of the Wandering Jew, down past Lew Wallace's Ben Hur (1880), a
story of a converted Jew. For a particular reason, however, I recur
at this point to Scott's The Talisman (1825), his twenty-first novel,
a story of the Third Crusade, which concerns Richard Coeur-de-Lion
and Saladin.
As the book opens, a Scottish knight is riding through the coun-
try near the Dead Sea. He meets and is attacked by a Saracen
(Saladin in disguise), but the fight is a draw, they declare a truce,,

and ride to a nearby oasis. Eventually they reach the cave of a
fanatical hermit, which in turn leads into a hidden but ornate chapeL
Scott tells us he depended upon travelers for his account of the Dead
Sea and its environs. Here is the fearful world he conjures up:
The burning sun of Syria had not yet attained its highest point . . .
when a knight . . . was pacing slowly along the sandy deserts which lie
in the vicinity of the Dead it is called, the Lake

Sea, or, as Asphaltites.
. . . The warlike . . .
pilgrim had entered upon that great plain,,
where the accursed cities provoked the direct and dreadful ven-
. . .
geance of the Omnipotent the traveller recalled the fearful catastro-

. . .
phe, which had converted into an arid and dismal wilderness, the fair
and fertile valley of Siddim, once well watered now a parched and . . .
blighted waste, condemned to eternal sterility. Crossing himself, as he

viewed the dark mass of rolling waters, in colour as in quality unlike
those of every other lake, the traveller shuddered as he remembered
that beneath these sluggish waves lay the once proud cities of the plain,
whose grave was dug by the thunder of the heavens, or the eruptions
of subterraneous fires, and whose remains were hid, even by that sea
which holds no living fish in its bosom, bears no skiff on its surface,
and, as if its own dreadful bed were the only fit receptacle for its sullen
waters, sends not, like other lakes, a tribute to the ocean. The whole
land around ... is not sown, nor beareth, nor any grass groweth
thereon; the land as well as the lake might be termed dead . and . .
even the very air was entirely devoid of its ordinary winged inhabitants,
deterred probably by the odour of bitumen and sulphur, which the
burning sun exhaled from the waters of the Lake, in steaming clouds,
frequendy assuming the appearance of waterspouts. Masses of the slimy
and sulphurous substance called naphtha, which floated idly on the slug-
gish and sullen waves, supplied those rolling clouds with new vapours,
and afforded awful testimony to the truth of Mosaic history.
There is much more. My point is that in the nineteenth century
the Dead Sea long remained the final repository of the notion that
Palestine is a mysterious land outside the cycle of natural events.
Even geologists acquiesced in the theory. For example, in his Physi-
calGeography of the Holy Land (1865), Robinson, though he threw
doubt on many legends, clung to the belief that God's judgment on
Sodom and Gomorrah had left demonic physiographical traces. This
legend even the American scientific expedition of 1848, to which
I have referred, had not eradicated.
Travelers played up the peculiarities of the region. Thus the amus-
ing Alexander W. Kinglake, in that classic of British travel, Eothen
(1844), says that he bathed, unharmed, in the Dead Sea but that he
found the water detestable in taste and was encrusted with salt when
he dried himself in the sun. Among American travelers, one of the
most remarkable was Herman Melville, who visited the Holy Land
in 1857 and who made his experiences there the basis of an endless
philosophic poem, "Clarel," not published until 1876. "Clarel" is at

opposite poles from Disraeli's Tancred, since, if for Disraeli the Holy
Land is the home of that "Asian mystery" which is the fountainhead
of three religions, Jewish, Christian, and Mohammedan, for Melville

the Holy Land is, in its ruined state, an outward and visible sign of
the loss of religion among modern men and, to some degree, of the
ruin of the world.It is difficult to quote from "Clarel" because of the
scope and length of the poem; but Melville kept a journal, published
as Extracts from Journal up the Straits and edited by Raymond
Weaver (1935), which is sufficiently remarkable in itself.
Melville landed at Jaffa, employed a Jewish dragoman to take
him the fifty-five miles to Jerusalem, crossed (and later recrossed)
the plain of Sharon with delight, and then plunged into acute physi-
cal and emotional discomfort. At Ramla he "put up at an
[alleged]
hotel. At supper over broken crockery and cold meat, pestered
by
moschitos and fleas." He spent a sleepless night, rode off at two in
the morning for Jerusalem, and, after a weary journey over the arid
hills, reached that city twelve hours later. Everywhere he went he

experienced "scurvy treatment" except that he once enjoyed riding
to Lydda in company with the son o the
governor, and that he liked
am the only traveller sojourning in Jaffa. I am emphatically
Jaffa : "I
alone, &
begin to feel like Jonah." But he could not sleep for the fleas,
and he thought the city "certainly antedeluvian." He escaped on an
Austrian ship.
A
special diary, known as the "Jerusalem" diary, records his emo-
tional disappointment. He
compared the Dead Sea to Lake Como,
and the bitterness of its waters brought up in his mind a succession
of bitter images, so much so that when he saw a rainbow over its
waters, he had "no malice against But on the whole the Dead Sea
it."
area was, in its emotional tone, undistinguishable from Judea, of

which he writes:
Whitish Mildew pervading whole tracts of landscape bleached lep-
rosy encrustation of curses old cheese bones of rocks crunched,

knawed [sic] & mumbled mere refuse & rubbish of creation like that
laying [sic] outside of Jaffa Gate all Judea seems to have been accumu-
lations of this rubbish. So rubbishy, that no chiffonier [i.e., ragpicker]
could find anything all over it. No moss as in other ruins no grace of
decay no ivy the unleavened nakedness of desolation whitish ashes
lime-kilns. You see the anatomy compares with ordinary regions as
skeleton with living & rosy man.
"I have no doubt," he wrote later in this same diary, "the diabolical
landscape of Judea must have suggested to the Jewish prophets,
their ghastly theology." This bitter and disillusioned view was not
shared by others.
It would be interesting to recapture the strong and simple faith
and amazing adventures of Holman Hunt, who went to the Dead

Sea in order to achieve precisely the right effect for his celebrated
painting, Goat, and whose costumes, equipment, and

The Scape
actions were a source of amazement to the Arabs, Once he danced
about on a cold day in order to warm himself, and he was thereafter
looked upon as a holy man because he was so obviously a whirling
dervish. Or one might set against the grim impressionism of Melville
the aesthetic impressionism of Robert Hichens, author of The Garden
of Allah, who visited Palestine in the present century in a mood that
suggests Walter Pater and the art-for-art's-sake movement. But I

have perhaps said enough to suggest the variety and fascination of
the theme.
Throughout literary history Palestine has been regarded by Britons

and Americans as a land set apart, a land where anything might
happen, whether in the way of wonder or in the way of terror. In-
evitably has been viewed as the country of the Bible as interpreted
it
by it remains a land having signs and

Christians. Inevitably also
wonders. The religious interest has, in the main, overshadowed the
political and the economic interest, just as it has overshadowed the
Zionist interest. Wonder and heroism, romance and a certain macabre
quality, are parts of the shifting image. Who
shall say that the present
heroic effort of Israel to maintain itself in a hostile environment is
less epic or wonderful than what pilgrims and writers have told us?
BACKGROUNDS OF AMERICAN
POLICY TOWARD ZION
SELIG ABLER
Twice within the past forty years an American President has

boldly advanced the fortunes of the Jewish State. On October 13,
1917, Woodrow Wilson consented to the Balfour Declaration and
thus made the Mandate possible. A generation later, Harry S. Tru-
man recognized the independence of Israel with exciting alacrity and
the Western powers followed him in acknowledging that the hopes
of the centuries had come to fruition. Both Presidents acted in the
face of formidable opposition from their closest counselors. One is
therefore entitled to ask: Which forces in American intellectual and
diplomatic history turned the delicate balance in favor of the Jewish

cause? For the answer it is necessary to turn back the pages of history
to the beginning of the American epic.
I. The Apocalyptic Promise for the Jews
On August 3, 1492, Christopher Columbus set sail from Palos.

He avoided more convenient harbors because their waterfronts were
jammed with fleeing Jews. Thus began a subtle connection between
the New World and footloose Israel, a coincidence noted by the ex-
plorer himself. A
century later, doughty Englishmen began to plant
colonies in British North America. These early settlers brought with
them a Christian culture which had been tempered by the current
Hebraic revival. The Puritans had a poignant interest in Hebrew

lore.Avid study of the Hebrew language and the writings of the
Prophets had made them keenly aware of Israel's future at the end
of days. They shared the common English belief that the millennium
was to be heralded by the physical restoration of the Jewish nation
and the conversion of that "stiff-necked" race. Hence, the almost
morbid interest of the Puritan divines in the "scattered people."
While unconverted Jews were not welcome in New England, Jews
were not pictured as demons, but rather as mysterious characters
whose mission on earth would be fulfilled when they would re-
*
join the ranks of the "Christian Israelites."
Roger Williams and John Eliot convinced themselves that the
American Indians were the ten lost tribes of Israel. The energetic
Cotton Mather could seldom find Jews to convert, but the woods
were filled with Indians whom that reverend gentleman was cer-
tain were the remnants of the Assyrian Diaspora. Jonathan Edwards,
who flourished in the Age of Reason, studied the similarities between
Hebrew and the language of the "Muhhekaneew Indians." 2 This
mistaken identity persisted until the days of Mordecai Manuel
Noah.3 The presence of the red man served as a reminder of the ex-
tent of the Jewish exile and stimulated speculation about God's plans
for both races. Reverend Ezra Stiles, president of Yale College, was
both intimate with and friendly to colonial Jews but he was loath
might then assimilate and thus
to extend full civil rights, for they
4
counteract their destiny to pave the way to Zion. There was, to be
sure, disagreement as to the sequence of the conversion and the in-
gathering, but both concepts were staples of the current millennial

thought. One could, moreover, hasten the Second Advent by action.
Hence, American Christians turned to projects, while the overwhelm-
ing majority of Jews relied on Messianic prayers and longings.
A generation before the American Revolution, colonial thought
1 Oscar Adventure in Freedom (1954), pp. 15, 174 ff.
Handlin,
2A. S. W. Rosenbach, "An American Jewish Bibliography," Publications of the
American Jewish Historical Society, No. 30 (1926), p. 86.
3
Ibid., p. 316.
4 Morris "References to Jews in the Diary of Ezra Stiles," ibid., No. 10
Jastrow, Jr.,
(1902), pp. 5-36.

American Policy Toward Zion 253
had forked into two streams. One group of thinkers had been influ-
enced by the Enlightenment and Deism, and the other reacted to this
liberalism by fostering the Great Awakening and its conservative
theology. In German, the Aufkldrung revived Hebrew and eventually

secularized the Jew, only to disillusion him. Heading eastward with
the Has\alah, the fusion of Jewish and European thought gave birth
to the Hebrew renaissance of our time. In America, the Enlighten-
ment benefited the individual Jew, but was inimical to the group
solidarity. The Great Awakening, however, hardened into a Chris-
tian orthodoxy which revived interest in the Holy .Land. While the
Deists and their Unitarian and Universalist successors ridiculed the
Hebraic foundations of Christianity, the neo-orthodox buttressed
their faith with Jewish concepts. John Adams, who had once flirted
with infidelity, returned to the church. "If I were an atheist," he
wrote, "I should still believe that fate had ordained the Jews to be
the most essential instrument for civilizing the nations." 5 While he
loved the Jews no more than the British, French, or Romans, old
John Adams wrote to Mordecai M. Noah that he wished "again in
6
Judaea an independent nation.** His son, John Quincy Adams,
turned to the Bible for support against the nihilistic tendencies gen-
erated by the French Revolution. Despite occasional anti-Semitic
barbs, his writings are studded with references to and admiration for
"the history of one peculiar nation, certainly the most extraordinary
nation that has ever appeared upon the earth." He told his son
George to note how the Bible "still continues the national code of
the Jews (scattered as they are over the whole face of the earth) ." 7
American Protestant theology, fashioned by Jonathan Edwards,
remained dominant was challenged by modernism after the
until it
Civil War. Bibliolatry was in vogue and Jewish themes were con-
5*
genial to American writers and orators. "Palestine, said Zebulon

B. Vance, "was the central chamber of God's administration.'* The
5 Adams A. Vanderkemp, February 16, 1809. Quoted in The Works of John
to F.
Adams, Adams (1850-56), IX, 609-10.
ed. Charles F.
6
Quoted in Cyrus Adler and Aaron M. Margalith, With Firmness in the Right
(1946), p. 42.
T Letters Adams to His Son on the Bible and Its
of John Quincy Teachings (1848),
pp. 20, 65.
Jews, he held, possessed a "scattered unity" which in every country

where they were exiled formed a Gulf Stream running through but
not merging with the ocean of mankind. The spiritual capital of this
people was Jerusalem, which sat "in solitary grandeur upon the
still
lovely hills, and though faded, feeble and ruinous still towers in
moral splendor above all the spires and domes and pinnacles ever
8
erected by human hands." Roman Catholics, then struggling for
their place in the American sun, argued that only their church and
the synagogue had been founded by God. The Catholic World pre-
dicted that eventually the Jew would accept the true faith and then
9
will "the captivity of Juda and the captivity of Jerusalem" be ended.
Such an intellectual atmosphere was certain to give rise to restora-
tionist speculation, embodied as it always was with conversionist
hopes and schemes.

The Unitarian and Universalist writers dissented from this prevail-
ing fundamentalism. Such thinkers generally concurred with the
Abbe Gregoire's dictum: "To the Jews as a nation we give nothing;
to the Jews as individuals we give everything." Influenced by French
rather than English thought, the heterodox had pared their religion
of supernaturalism long before Lyell and Darwin. To men who did
not concern themselves with the salvation of mankind, the restora-
tion of the Jews seemed ludicrous. Not until Zionism emerged as a
modern political movement did
it attract Christian liberal
thought.
Deists in the Tom
Paine tradition presumably found it safer to
attack "Israelitish myths" than Christian theology. Thomas Jeffer-
son wanted equality for all men, but he had little respect for Moses,
the Talmud, or the laws which the Jews observed. William Ellery
Channing and Ralph Waldo Emerson held similar views. Perhaps
Longfellow was expressing his Unitarian orientation when he saw
the plight of these "Ishmaels and Hagars of mankind," but ended
his poem with the assurance that "what once has been shall be no
more! . And the dead nations never rise again." 10
. .
strongly A
8 Zebulon B. Vance, The Scattered Nation (1928), pp. 13, 33.
* xxv (1877), 365-76.
10 From his
1852 poem, "The Jewish Cemetery at Newport," in The Poetical Worfc
of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1886), pp. 225-26.
rationalist Baltimore periodical complained of the price that it cost
to convert Jews "a pretty round sum for Christendom to make a
n Such
purchase of the scattered nation." opinions became more
common with the Darwinian impact, and Robert Green Ingersoll
called upon Jew and Christian to cast aside common superstitions
and "meet as man and man."
to
Evangelical, apocalyptic, and millennial thought was, however,

dominant in the first three quarters of the nineteenth century. Ante-
bellum newspapers and periodicals are filled with plans for the re-
building of the Holy Land and the return of its exiled people. "The
Fulness of the Gentiles," so the traditionalists held, [is] coeval with
the Salvation of the Jews." 12
Theology aside, other tendencies accelerated the restorationist

impulse. Americans read the British Romanticists Lord Byron, : who
sang of Zion, and Sir Walter Scott, who stressed the nationalist feel-
ings of Rebecca, Jewish heroine of Ivanhoe. English and Scotch maga-

zines, then much in vogue here, carried news of one demented but
vociferous Richard Brothers, who in 1793 proclaimed himself both
the "nephew Almighty" and the "Prince of the Hebrews,"
of the
designated by God to lead the Jews back to Canaan. An acute nos-

talgia for the past was inherent in all Romantic thought, and what
ancient land was dearer to a nation of Bible readers than Palestine?
Such longings were intensified by the reform wave of the second
quarter of the century often loosely called "Jacksonian Democracy."
Men were interested in curing the world's evils some crusaded for
temperance, some tried to free the Negro slaves, still others baked
unleavened bread, aided the imprisoned, championed the rights
of women and children, or set the exact date of the millennium.
Origen Bacheler, universal peace advocate, included the Jews in his

plans. He insisted that the Bible had promised Canaan to the "chosen
people" forever. Noting the beginnings of the Jewish confluence east-
ward, he called upon the Christian world to help the movement and
then to work for conversion. 13 Sensitive Margaret Fuller, who spent
Weekly Register, XI (December 14, 1816), 260.

^Christian Observer, VI (1807), 29.
13
Origen Bacheler, Restoration and Conversion of the Jews (1843), passim.
her few years in the vortex of the reform movement, observed that,
as part of the general excitement, "the Gentile was requested to aid
the Jew to return to Palestine; for the millennium, the reign of the
14
Son of Mary was In those quaint days before science had
near."
shrunk the spaces of the earth, there was an intense interest in out-
landish folk genuine Siamese twins, unspoiled Chinese heathen, and
unsophisticated Hindus. What was more natural than to have Amer-

icans vent their romanticism upon Jews, everyday becoming more
noticeable in their land? Here one could aid "Christ's race." And the
whole project could satisfy the voracious missionary appetite. To a
people who were daily breaking the back of the American frontier,
"recolonization" of the Holy Land seemed feasible.
The spate of restorationist literature began in the late eighteenth
century, reached its zenith just before the Civil War, and declined
noticeably thereafter. Some of the tracts were Anglican, some Pres-
byterian, many were of Baptistorigin. Invariably they assumed that

"The Gathering of Israel in to their own land" was a necessary
prelude to the "Universal Summons to the Battle of Armageddon."
The it was held, was the
return of the Jews, "great stumbling block"
that must be removed before the Advent of "our soon expected
Lord." 15 "The future metropolis of the world," promised the Rev-
erend Arnold W. Miller, Presbyterian minister of Charlotte, North
16
Carolina, "will not be Rome, or Paris, or London, but Jerusalem."
John McDonald prophesied during the War of 1812 that the restora-
tion of the Jews would come "aided by the American nation." 17
Some of these broadsides were written by genuine scholars. George
Bush, a Hebraist whose colossal knowledge included the fringes
of the Kabala, wrote "The Valley of Vision; or The Dry Bones of
Ezekiel Revived." 18 Bush, who taught Hebrew at New York Uni-
versity for sixteen years, accepted the revelations of Emanuel Sweden-
borg and forged a link between restorarionist thought and the Amer-
Writings of Margaret Fuller, ed. Mason Wade (1941), p. 209.
15 E.
Jacobs, The Doctrine of a Thousand Years Millennium. (1941), passim.
16 Arnold W.
Miller, The Restoration of the Jews (1887), passim.
17
John McDonald, Isaiah's Message to the American 'Nation (1814), passim.
18 See Morris U.
Schappes, ADocumentary History of the Jews in the United
States (1950), pp. 62829.
ican Swedenborgians. By mid-century so much had been written and

said on Palestine that the link between the Jew and the millennium
had become common knowledge.
As nineteenth-century advances in science and technology perco-
lated down to the masses, men became more practical and less
given
to theological casuistry. In 1816 the editor of Niks Register recog-
nized the plight of the Jew in post-Napoleonic Europe and ventured
a pragmatic solution. Why, he asked, could not Israelites of "princely
fortunes" take advantage of Turkey's weakness and find a home for
the wanderers? "The desarts [sic] of Palestine," Hezekiah Niles
predicted, "may again blossom as the rose and Jerusalem, miserable

as it is, speedily rival the cities of the world for beauty, splendor and
wealth. 19 Such practical schemes were given impetus as the topog-
* 1
raphy of the Holy Land was explored. In 1841, Dr. Edward Robin-
son, an American Hebraist with sound German training in both
historical and topographical research, published his monumental
Biblical Researches in Palestine. A half dozen years later, Lieutenant
William F. Lynch, U.S.N., descended the Jordan, and his return
to New York heralded new interest in the fountain of all baptismal
20
streams. Within the next decade a number of events drew still
further attention to Palestine. The

1848 revolts pointed up the na-
tionalist aspirations of many suppressed peoples, and the Jews came
in for some share of the agitation. Then Czar Nicholas I advertised
the impending break-up of Turkey by his concern for the "Sick Man
of Europe." In 1854, Ferdinand de Lesseps obtained a concession to
pierce the isthmus of Suez and his project drew attention to the Mid-
dle East. The National Magazine advised the Jews to muster their
resources and "to obey the signal for a general rendezvous at Jeru-
salem. . . . Their land is, in a sense, reserved for them." This peri-
odical reasoned that conversion to Christianity would then come as
a matter of course, because no state could reconcile "the obselete
[sic] Mosaic ritual" with modernism. 21 Similar calls to action, en-
i* Niles'
Weekly Register, XI (November 9, 1816), 168.
20 See
Lynch's Narrative of the United States' Expedition to the River Jordan and
the Dead Sea (1849). This was republished the following year in an abridged form.
21 "Restoration of the
Jews," National Magazine, IV (1854), 521-24.
tirelydivorced from theological speculation, were printed in the

pages of the New York Journal of Commerce and in the Boston
periodical, Living Age.
In true Yankee style, some of the more energetic Christians imple-
mented thought with action. Warder Cresson, Philadelphia Quaker
who had been appointed to the Jerusalem consulate, 22 became a con-
vert to Judaism and, as Michael Boaz Israel, pressed colonization
schemes here and in Europe. Mrs. Clorinda S. Minor, also from the
Quaker City, set sail for Palestine and established a short-lived set-
tlement called Mount Hope. A German-born physician and scientist,
Dr. Charles F. Zimpel, left America and made two extended visits
to the Holy Land. He studied Jewish conditions, visited the
American-Christian colony at Wadi-Urtash, and became a Zionist
a generation before the word was coined. Dr. ZimpePs writings reveal
all the major outlines of the future movement. He wanted to nego-
tiate with the sultan for a Jewish concession, to introduce modern
agricultural methods, to foster economic development backed by
Western Jewish capital, and to promote the immigration of Jews
who wanted to return. 23
The romantic urge, however, died hard. Shortly after Appomattox,
some 160 "Maine men" sancta aboard the Nellie Chapin.
left for terra
Combining evangelism with a taste for polygamy and real-estate

24
speculation, they managed to exist for a while near Jaffa. Such
sporadic settlement dribbled on until the twentieth century. Anna
Spafford, one of the later colonists, became the heroine of Selma
Lagerlofs novel, Jerusalem. A
member of her family lived long
enough to welcome Henrietta Szold and Sir Herbert Samuel to the
Old City.
25
A
half century of Christian efforts had called repeated
attention to the Palestinian problem, had spread "Yankee know-how"
22 Cresson was confirmed
by the Senate, May 17, 1844, but never received an
exequatur from Turkey. Frank E. Manuel, The Realities of American Palestine Rela-
tions (1949), pp. lo-n.
23 N. M.
Gelber, "A Pre-Zionist Plan for Colonizing Palestine: The Proposal of a
Non- Jewish German-American in 1852," Historia Judaica, I (1939), 81-90.
24
J. Augustus Johnson, **The Colonization of Palestine," Century, H (1882), 293-
96-
25
Thomas Sugrue, "American Christian Colony in Jerusalem," New Yor% Herald
Tribune Book. Review, January 22, 1950, p. 4.
among the early settlers, and had forged a bond between the United
States and the modern Jewish renaissance.
II. Forerunners of American Zionism
In the meantime, the American Jewish community was growing

steadily. The ancient faith had been brought to these shores by men
who chose exile to apostasy. Paradoxically, the freer air of America
often led to assimilation. Those who retained the tradition, however,
founded synagogues which faced Zion in prayer and hope. German
and even Polish Jews eventually outnumbered the pure Sephardim,
but they accepted the Spanish and Portuguese minkag and the
spiritual leadership of the London and Amsterdam rabbinates.
Sephardic orthodoxy, with the Zionist tradition of Judah Ha-Levi,
remained dominant until the fourth decade of the nineteenth century.
Unlike other Westernized Jewish communities in the Age of Revo-
lution, these pioneers did not try to show their Americanism by
abandoning historic Judaism with its nationalist overtones. It was
possible here to be a good Jew in the fullest sense of the word and
be culturally assimilated. Pragmatic Americans never seemed to raise
the question as to whether praying for the coming of the Messiah
and the restoration of the Davidic dynasty had anything to do with
down-to-the-earth Americanism. On weekdays these eighteenth-
century Jews wore periwigs and knee breeches; on Sabbaths and

holy days their ritual pointed up Messianic hopes. This was perhaps
the natural result of close connection with and inbreeding of Mar-
ranos who had stayed alive as a group in the hope of the ultimate
Messiah. 26 The American and French Revolutions seemed to herald
the great day. To the Reverend Gershom Mendes Seixas, native-
born American hazzan, the success of the colonies against great odds
showed what Jews might do in defiance of the world. The Napoleonic
wars, so Seixas reasoned, smacked certainly of the "birth pangs of
the Messiah." But he was not satisfied with mere prayer and specula-
tion and he told his congregation in New York that the interplay of
26 See "The Forerunners of American Zionism,'* Israel Horizons

Raphael Mahler,
(February, March, May-June, July-August, 1953).
interests the great powers would facilitate the Jewish Restora-

among
tion. Seixaswas the spiritual mentor of Mordecai Manuel Noah
27
"first American Zionist."
Noah was almost a perfect blend of Jewish and American intel-

During the first half of his life a "spread-eagle"
lectual currents.
Americanism seemed to quench the deep Jewish fire within him. The
story of his subsequent concern for his people is familiar history.
While on a diplomatic mission to Tunis, he ran into difficulties and
was recalled with blunt reference to his religion. His fight for per-
28
sonal vindication brought his Judaism into sharp focus, and he
picked up the mantle which Seixas had just laid down. Why not,
Noah asked, capitalize upon the decline of Turkey by promoting
a return to the Holy Land based upon an agricultural and educa-
tional revival ? His restless mind then espoused territorialismand be-
got the 1825 Grand Island scheme. The deaf ears upon which his
grotesque proclamation to the eventually convinced him

Jews fell
that only Palestine had sufficient magnetic appeal to arouse a lethargic
people. By 1837 he was ready once more to "unfurl the standard of

Judah on Mount Zion." His two lectures of 1844, known as the "Dis-
course on the Restoration of the Jews/' were almost prophetic. But,
as Dr. Robert Gordis has said, history has a way of punishing men
who chance to be born before their time.29
Noah, despite the immediate frustration of all his Jewish schemes,
is an important link in the evolution of Zionism. His Odyssey dem-
onstrates that even the nascent American Jewry of his day could pro-
duce a man who, acting entirely independent of Old World think-
ers, was able to draw up the main outlines of the Zionist blueprint.
His work was carried on in part by Raphael J. De Cordova, lay
preacher in New York's Temple Emanuel. In 1853, the North Amer-
ican Relief Society for the Indigent Jews of Jerusalem, Palestine, was
founded and the very next year Judah Touro bequeathed a handsome
sum for the Holy Land.
28 Isaac
Goldberg, Major Noah: American-Jewish Pioneer (1938), pp. 11117.
29 Robert A
Gordis, "Mordecai Manuel Noah: Centenary Evaluation/* Publications
of the American Jewish Historical Society f XLI (1951), 1-26.
By 1860, American Jewish interest in Palestine was beginning to
parallel the older Christian concern for the land of the Patriarchs.
Within a decade, a series of European wars made it apparent that
modern nationalism had replaced the universalism of the French
Revolutionary epoch. Spurred on by Eastern European barbarism
and Western European intellectual anti-Semitism, Jewish rivulets of
thought merged to form the stream of modern Zionism.
III. Persecution Pricks the American Conscience
As the Industrial Revolution penetrated the Russian Empire, the

economic position of the Jews became more and more untenable.
Jewish artisans were driven to the wall by factory competition, while
peasants were leaving the land to challenge the ancient Jewish
hegemony of dispensing middle-class services. Disturbed by these
tensions, the Romanovs used pogroms to detract attention from their
decadent regime. Slowly the greatest exodus in Jewish history began,
the main group heading westward while a smaller but more ideal-
istic segment wended its way back to Palestine. As the trickle toward
Zion increased, there was talk of "normalizing" Jewish life, of re-
turning and of resuming ordinary membership in the

to the soil,
family of nations. For a while assimilationist tendencies dominated

Jewish thought west of the German border. By the nineties, how-
ever, some discerning Jewish thinkers in the Atlantic world had
already sensed the power of the new anti-Semitism. Such leaders
looked eastward to the plight of the Jewish masses and their own
spiritual return to their people transformed the longings of the cen-
turies into the 1897 Basle program.
In the United States, the trek back to Zion aroused the attention
of both Christians and Jews. James Parton, prolific writer and pop-
ular biographer, was one of the first to comment upon this new
Drang "nach Osten. Parton interrupted his literary work to speak

out against Jewish discrimination in the lush resorts. In the course
of explaining "Our Israelitish Brethren" to his readers, he noted the
return to Palestine. Parton knew of Charles Netter's agricultural
school near Jaffa and remarked that ideas about Jewish adaptability
were hackneyed. "All things," he wrote, "must have a beginning, and

the disuse of eighteen centuries cannot be overcome in a year or
two." 30 Parton's prediction about the potentialities o the Pales-
tinian soil were fulfilled, and some successful Jewish colonies at-
tracted increasing attention. Long before Herzl, some Americans
perceived that the refugee Jew had a spiritual stake in the historic
homeland might compensate for discomfort and would possibly
that
make more lasting than the Christian Utopian ventures. 31
his efforts
Soon the attention of the State Department was called to the plight
of the Holy Land pioneers working under the yoke of Turkish op-
pression. Ever since President Van Buren and Secretary Forsyth had
intervened in the Damascus blood libel on humanitarian grounds
alone, Jews had looked to Washington for help in every crisis. For a
variety of reasons, this task had been congenial to the young re-
public. The United States was the evangel of humanitarianism,
freedom of religion, and civil liberty. Over and above the courting
of Jewish votes, a possibility becoming more attractive to politicians
with each passing decade, Jewish tribulations had a special appeal.
In those softer days of the British century, religious persecution
shocked a people devoted to the idea of progress. Many naturalized
American Jews traveled or settled abroad, using their cherished citi-
zenship papers as a shield against local discrimination. Decaying

empires paid special attention to American protests because they
knew that a continental republic had no land-grabbing ulterior mo-
tives. We could, moreover, act without detriment to our trade, for
our material interests abroad were all but negligible. Thus the Bu-
chanan administration lectured Switzerland on equal treatment for

all American nationals, the first
Republican Secretary of State dealt
with Morocco, while Grant and Fish began the long disputes with
Romania and Russia. By the eighties, a sufficient number of natural-
ized American Jews were in Palestine to call forth vigorous protests
to Turkey.
Continuous diplomatic intervention gradually made this country
30 "Our Israelitish Brethren," Atlantic Monthly, XXVI (1870), 385-403.
81 loc* at.
Johnson,
aware of the Jewish problem. At first Washington merely tried the

palliative remedy of interceding for civil rights. Such measures pleased
nineteenth-century German Yahudim, who were certain that the ris-
ing sun of enlightenment would soon encompass the darker climes.
In the less-confident years of our own century, the United States has
had to reckon with a powerful Russian-Jewish community, oriented
along Zionist lines.
Parleying with Washington for many decades
had given the Jews the courage to demand the ear of the State De-
partment. Now it was no longer just intervention in favor of civil
rights for foreign Jews. There came the added demand that the
United States hearken to the Herzlian plan for a total solution for
Jewish homelessness.
Some seventy-five years ago, American diplomacy began the ear-
nest protection of nationals in the Ottoman Empire. The Jews found
a new champion in the United States minister at Constantinople,
General Lew Wallace. Soldier, lawyer, humanitarian, Christian,
author of Ben Hur, Wallace visited Jerusalem and even tried to in-
terest the Arthur administration in Jewish colonization schemes.
The next step was to appoint a Jew as minister to the Sublime Porte.
President Grover Cleveland, setting a precedent destined to be fol-
lowed for a full generation, acted from complex motives. He was
anxious to take a bold step to enhance Jewish prestige in the face of
Russian physical and German intellectual anti-Semitism. Cleveland
had reported to Congress that the Austro-Hungarian monarchy had
refused to receive an American envoy who had a Jewish wife. The
sultan, on the other hand, might actually prefer a Jew to a Christian,
and at the same time such a minister might help his coreligionists
in a quarter of the world where aid was badly needed. The venerable
Henry Ward Beecher, perhaps the most prominent clergyman in
the land, urged the appointment of Oscar S. Straus. Beecher re-
minded the President that "We are Jews ourselves gone to blossom
32
& fruit, Christianity is Judaism in Evolution." After the comple-
tion of Straus' first mission, he was returned to Constantinople by
32 Beecher to
Cleveland, July 12, 1887. A reproduction of the letter is in Oscar
Straus, Under Four Administrations (1922), pp. 46 f.
Presidents McKinley and Taft, while Harrison and Wilson ap-

33
pointed other Jews to the same post. Is it too farfetched to believe
that intuition guided American Presidents in sending Jews to the
part of the world where their people had originated and where many
of them were planning to return ? This may be pure speculation, but
for three decades Jewish envoys helped not only American nationals
but all Jews who pushed their way into the sultan's dominions.
American Christian consuls, in those days, were often of even greater
help. Edward Wallace returned from his Jerusalem consulship to
S.
34
plead the Zionist cause with tongue and pen.
IV. America Ponders the New Jewish Nationalism
Gradually, the nature of the Jewish question penetrated the Amer-

ican mind. In the eighties, the Reverend William E. Blackstone of
Oak Park, Illinois, visited theHoly Land. He came home convinced
that increased colonization was the best remedy for the Czarist ter-
ror and he laid his proposition before President Harrison. The
famous Blackstone petition, signed by some of the most prominent
men in the country, asked that Palestine be returned to the Jews.
Blackstone's efforts had no direct results, but President Benjamin
Harrison dealt with the' problem of Jewish persecutions in a message
33
to Congress. Theodore Roosevelt shuddered at the Kishinev massa-
cre and his successor abrogated an 1832 commercial treaty with Rus-
sia partly to express aversion to the persistent outrages. Historical
forces, working sometimes subtly and often cruelly, pointed up the

necessity of a revived Jewish nationalism. In the course of the nine-
teenth century, many independent thinkers, acting in sublime un-
consciousness of one another, had reached the same conclusion. Mor-
decai Noah, American journalist; Moses Hess, German Socialist;
Rabbi Samuel Mohilever, Polish traditionalist; Dr. Leo Pinsker, Rus-
33The story of Straus' missions and the endeavors of other American diplomatic
and consular officials on behalf of the Near Eastern Jews is related in Manuel,
op. cit., pp. 6 1 -i 1 1.
s *See Wallace's Jerusalem the
Holy (1898).
35 A
Compilation of the Messages and Papers of the Presidents, 1789-1897, compiler,
James D. Richardson (1898), IX, 188.
sian modernist; and Theodor Herzl, Austrian bourgeois, had all
reached a sort of consensus universalis that the time had come for
the Jews to return to their own land. The compound
thinking of so
many was bound world evaluation of the problem.
to affect the
Pre-Herzlian Zionist thought filtered through to American read-
ers largely through British intermediation. It is no accident that both
Noah and Herzl, writing some sixty years apart, looked to the British
Empire as the means of making Turkish Palestine a Jewish State.
In the Victorian years, before T. E. Lawrence had idealized the
Arabs, a Jewish Palestine was congenial to an imperial policy search-
ing for any foil to thwart Russia's designs on the sultan's provinces.
More important than the realistic appraisals transmitted through the
pages of The Spectator or the Fortnightly Review was the impact
of George Eliot's novel, Daniel Deronda* Despite her latitudinarian-
ism, George Eliot's social views were deeply influenced by the old
Protestant concept of service. Her novel was, with certain notable
exceptions, the first favorable portrayal of the Jew in English litera-

ture. The theme of the book is predominantly Zionist and it stresses
the innate racial factor as the chief ingredient in nationality. The
hero, Daniel, discovers that he is a Jew and, influenced by the frail
consumptive dreamer Mordecai, wants to restore Jewish vitality by
reviving the nationalist features inherent in the Mosaic faith. Eliot's
work drew wide attention in the United States. Henry James called
the Jewish theme a "fine idea" and Edwin L. Godkin speculated on
the plot in the pages of The Nation. A
half century later, the Balfour
36
Declaration was proclaimed as "The Triumph of Mordecai."
George Eliot had given Jewish nationalism an unexpected and wel-
come impetus.
Eliot's work in belles-lettres was carried on in another field by
Laurence Oliphant. This mystic, politician, and publicist of Scotch
descent described the terrain of the Holy Land in his Land of
Gilead?' He received a charter for a company that was designed to
1
36 Nahum Sokolow collated these opinions in his Hibbath Zion (1934), pp. 114,
118.
37 See
Oliphant's, The Land of Gilead, with Exclusions in the Lebanon (1880),
and his Die Juden und die Orient jrage (188?).
help Britain, the Jews, and the sultan. When the plan failed because
of a shift of power in Downing Street, Oliphant tried in vain to in-
terest the authorities in Washington. His most tangible efforts, how-
ever, came in the help he gave to the colonization of some Romanian
Jewish settlers.Qliphant's ideas were spread in the United States by

Lieutenant-Colonel Claude R. Conder of the (British) Palestine
Exploration Fund. Conder wrote widely for American magazines
and is but one real home for the Hebrew, and
insisted that "there
that is which was once the land of Israel" ss The British
the land
historian W. E. H. Lecky told American readers, in 1893, that a Jew-
ish restoration would have to come through the money of the West-
ern Jews and the mass efforts of their unemancipated brethren. A re-
turn to Zion, he ventured, was neither impossible nor improbable. 39
As the United States slowly shed its isolationist swaddling clothes,
British writers urged the "Young Lion" to help the Jews establish a
bastion near the Suez bottleneck. 40
These British urgings were, on numerous occasions, well received
by American Christians. The Russian terror, which broke into full
fury in 1881, roused sympathy for its victims. The pogroms; more-
over, brought to this country masses of Jews with Zionist orientation.
Soon the newcomers were to engulf the older German Jews who
had carefully deleted restorationist sentiment from their Reform
prayer books. As the newer Jewish immigration grew steadily in
numbers and stature, they put increasing pressure upon politicians
for more positive action on the Palestine question. An occasional de-
scendant of the first Jewish settlers deviated from the majority opin-
ion of the group and joined the nationalists. Frequently such persons
were moved by the sight of the teeming hordes which poured into
the New York haven. Thus Emma Lazarus, whose early poetry had
been touched by neopaganism, after reading Daniel Deronda and
The Land of Gilead put her genius at the disposal of her people. Miss
Lazarus was now persuaded that the Jews must respond to the clarion
call of the Christian writers. She called for "Jerusalem's trumpet" to
ss "What to Do with the Russian

Jews/' Review of Reviews, XVII (1898), 738-39.
89 "Israel
Among the Nations," Forum, XVI (1893), 4425*
40 Frank G.
Jannaway, Palestine and the Powers (new ed., 1918), pp. 92-93.
sound "To wake the 41
high and low."
sleepers The same author
who penned "The New Colossus/' welcoming the "tired
the lines of
millions" to America, had already declared that only a return to
Zion would ensure the survival of the Jewish people.
Emma Lazarus had reflected upon the enhanced prestige of the
emancipated Jews. "They," she insisted, "who . have led the
. .
Conservatives of England, the Liberals of Germany, the Republicans

of France, can surely furnish a new Ezra for their own people." 42
The rise of political Zionism coincided with a new respect for Jewish
achievement. Enlightened Christians, basking in the soft light of the

late Victorian sun, saw pictures of Jews arrayed in the regalia of
lord mayors of London, read of "Israelites" elevated to the peerage,
heard of Italian-Jewish statesmen, were impressed by the work of
German-Jewish scientists, appreciated the art of Josef Israels, and
read the works of the Danish literary critic, Georg Morris Cohen
Brandes. Who had not heard of Disraeli, "the Empire-building Jew,"
or of the financiers, the European Rothschilds, or of August Belmont
and Jacob Schiff in their own country? Some, like Henry Adams
and James Russell Lowell, became obsessed with fear of Jewish
power. Even Lowell, however, admitted that the Jews were "a race
in which ability seems as natural and hereditary as the curve of their
noses." Men began the Jewish genius could not find
to ask why
some Russian nightmare. By the fin de siecle,
feasible solution for the
the ground had been well prepared for the acceptance of Herzl's
challenge.
V. American Jewry Answers the Call
The program of 1897 was well described by a contemporary

Basle
writer, George H. Schodde. It was, he wrote, "a combination and
collection of movements, arising spontaneously and independently
of each other in a half a dozen countries, and developing under di-
verse local side aims and purposes, having an agreement only in the
object, that of effecting a return of

one the people of Israel to Pales-
41 Emma Lazarus, The Dance to Death and Other Poems (1882), p. 56.
42
Quoted in Sokolow, op. at., p. 130.
43 home-
tine." The official movement to secure a legally established
land for the Jews attracted considerable attention in the United
States. Prior to 1914, there was much Christian applause for the
project, little malevolent criticism except on the part of certain Jews,

and much "watchful waiting" for concrete results. Diehard con-
versionists, however, seized upon Zionism as a new lever with which
to loosen the Jewish foundation stones. "Pastor Charles Taze Rus-
sell," who managed to survive several serious scandals in his long
career, went He came home, printed

to Palestine to see for himself.
replicas of Zionist stamps; and announced, "Yea, the Set Time is

44
Come." Today, missionary opposition to the State of Israel is
taken for granted, but that is the result o later forces and develop-
ments.
In 1903, Dr. E. W. G. Masterman waxed enthusiastic on the work
of the early Jewish pioneers. 45 Professor Franklin E. Hosford of
the Syrian Protestant College (American University of Beirut) wel-
comed the Jews back to their land. 46 The files of the missionary
periodicals of the early years of this century are filled with similar
sentiments. By 1914, however, the evangelists had found that the
secularist Jewish pioneers were religiously intransigent and that
Arab fcllahin were far better potential converts. As Christianity made
steady headway in Arab Lebanon and none whatsoever in Petach
Tikvah and Rishon le-Zion, missionary opposition developed. 47 By
1917, an Islamic-Christian coalition had formed to oppose the Bal-
four Declaration.
Herzl's program was certain to arouse controversy in lands where
the Jews were prosperous and culturally assimilated. In the United
States, several hundred thousand immigrants from the German-
speaking countries had found the land of their dreams. The surviving
pioneers and their children formed a "cult of the arrived" so devoted
to the certainty of progress that they thought Zionism both unneces-
sary and regressive. Yet even among this group there were some
important deviates who cast their lot with the less-fortunate majority.
43 "The Zionitc Movement,*' Harper's Weekly, XL (1896), 620.
44 See "Zionism in God's
Call," Overland Monthly, LVI (1910), 98-101, 52327.
45 "The
Jews in Modern Palestine," Biblical World, XXI (1903), 17-27.
46 "Zionism in the
City of Zion," Literary Digest, XL VIII (May 9, 1914), 1116-17.
47
Manuel, op. cit., p. 3.
Rabbi Gustav Gottheil and his son Richard, Rabbi Bernard Felsen-
thal of Chicago, Rabbi Maximilian Heller of New Orleans, and
Rabbi Benjamin Szold and Dr. Harry Friedenwald of Baltimore
became purveyors of Zionism to the American people. But the
majority of the older Jewish immigrants, who dominated the Jewish
community and had the ears of the Christians, were vocal in their
denunciation of the new departure. Unquestionably, their actions
and words helped dampen Christian enthusiasm for Zionism. The
newer immigrants were not fluent in the English tongue and thus
the American public was presented with an exaggerated picture of
Jewish dissent. The teeming East Side masses had just come from
countries where Jewish identity was a hallowed tradition. With the
exception of some uncompromising orthodox elements, they hailed

the new departure. For some years, though, they were too busy ac-
climatizing themselves to American conditions and too poor to give
Zionism their full support. Such men and their children, however,
were destined to continue their Zionist identification even after they
had gained an economic and social foothold in the New World, and
their enhanced stature came at a time when the disruptive forces of
our century had already destroyed the dream of uninterrupted
progress in human history.
The abortive Russian Revolution of 1905 brought a Jewish intelli-
gentsia to these shores who, with the exception of some inflexible
Socialists,became General, Labor, or Mizrachi Zionists. Gradually,
the bulk of American Jewry was drawn into the movement until the
opposition atrophied into a small fringe group called the American

Council for Judaism. Until, however, the East European mass mi-
gration could produce men fluent in the vernacular, the defense of
Zionism to the general public was left either to German Jewish dis-
senters or to educated British Jews. Professor Richard J. H. Gottheil
of Columbia University wrote prolifically, always insisting that uni-
versalism was a chimera and that Zionism alone could unite the Jews
and bring about a genuine religious revival. 48 Dr. Henry Pereira
Mendes, hazzan of the oldest American synagogue, carried on the
ancient Sephardic work for Palestine and wrote widely in general
48
Century, XXXVII (1899), 299-301; Cosmopolitan, XXXVI (1903), 241; Inde-
pendent, LXV (1908), 893-95.
49
publications. If most Reform rabbis remained aloof, Clifton Harby
Levy (Hebrew Union College, '90) went to Palestine and reported

favorably to the American people. Rabbi Levy pointed with pride
to harvesters from Chicago, motorboats on the Dead Sea, and Yankee-
type football games in Jerusalem. He advised his readers to see the
Holy Land soon Moses himself would not recognize it

at once, for
because "it will be completely modernized-Americanized." Such news
was flattering to a generation that still deferred to Europe as the
fountain spring of Kultur?
American magazines courted contributions from illustrious for-
eigners on the question. Israel Zangwill, noted Anglo-Jewish play-
wright, had excited the fancy of the dilettantes. Zangwill explained
that he was a pragmatist rather than an idealist, and that he thought
of Zionism as a specific for Judenschmerz? 1 For the Jew, he saw re-
52
nationalization as the only alternative to eventual extinction. As a
social psychiatrist of world renown, Max Nordau attracted attention.
"Lost identity," he told Americans, "is no solution of the Jewish
53
problem."
There were many other intermediaries who helped prepare the
ground for the role of Louis D. Brandeis. Palestinian Restoration
had now become a distinctly Jewish project. Just before the outbreak
of the First World War, the British Ambassador, Sir Cecil Arthur
Spring-Rice, noted the rising Jewish strength here. "They are," he

said, "far better organized than the Irish and far more formidable.
We should be in a position to get into their good graces."
54
VI. Zionism on the Anvil of American Politics
By chance, political Zionism came to America during that era of

social protest dubbed the "Age of the Muckrakers." Progressive opin-
49 See H. Pereira Mendes, "Zionism," North American Review, CLXVTI (1898),
200210; and "The Zionist Conference at Basle," ibid., pp. 62540.
50 "Palestine
Americanized," Independent, LXXIV (1913), 62225; *'J ew is k
Colonies in Palestine," Harper's Weekly, XLI (1897), 1130.
51 Review
of Reviews, XX
(1899), 47374.
Îndependent, LXV (1908), 892-93.
53 North American
Review, CLXVIII (1899), 654-69.
^The Letters and friendships of Sir Cecil Spring-Rice, cd. Stephen Gwynn
(1929), II, 201,
ion divided on the issue. The Arena, first o the muckraking genre
of magazines, gave the Palestinian pioneers wide and favorable cov-
erage. The Reverend A. Kingsley Glover expressed surprise that so
55
many Jews were refractory to such a noble cause. Many middle-
class reformers, protesting against the abuses of the "Gilded
Age,"
were looking for a Bessemer process to blow out the impurities of
modern industrialism. The Palestinian colonies promised to be lab-
oratories for such reform. The sociological writings of Arthur Rup-
pin drew admiration and respect here. Science was the idol of the
hour. When Dr. Aaron Aaronsohn of the Jewish Agricultural Ex-
perimental Station discovered wild wheat and came to the United
States to tell about his experiences, he brought welcome news to
Western agrarians interested in opportunities for wheat in semiarid
land. Palestinian citriculture and viniculture were also watched with
interest.Orator F. Cook of the Bureau of Plant Industry returned
from the Holy Land to report in Popular Science that Palestine was
destined to "become more than ever the historical background of our
56
civilization." By 1914, Norman Hapgood, editor of Harper's
WeeJ(ly had
y become converted to the cause. Zionism, he said, at the
very least had forced the nations of the world either to welcome the
57
Jews or to take the risk of losing such energetic citizens.
One segment of progressive thought, however, opposed Zionism as
reactionary. "Reghettoization" seemed contrary to that belief in
steady, unilinear, evolutionary progress which was so dear to men
of those golden years. Zionism, moreover, ran counter to the cur-
rent theory of undivided Americanization which insisted that the
new immigrants promptly divest themselves of their "cultural bag-
gage." Some of the Christian thinkers had been influenced by the
writings of M. Anatole Leroy-Beaulieu, which stressed the necessity
of the complete assimilation of the Jew; or by the observations of the
Englishman Arnold White, who seemed to have every answer for

58
Jewish persecution except refuge in Palestine. Taking his cue from
Jewish chauvinists, the popular Reverend Madison C. Peters an-
55 XXIV (1900), 441-48.
Arena,
"Jewish Colonization in Palestine," Popular Science, LXXXVHI (1913), 428.
56
57
Harper's Weekly, LIX (1914), 289.
Jewish Question: How to Solve It," North American Review, CLXXVHI
58 "The
(1904), 10-24.
nounced "America is the Zion from which goes forth the law." 59
that
Harking back to the liberalism of the early Unitarians, some feared

quite unnecessarily that Palestine would overburden the Jew with
the "pack of old clothes ceremonial." 60 The Nation, then in the in-
terregnum between Godkin and Villard, was certain that Zionism

could not reconcile religion with nationalism. 61 Intense Socialists, of
course, looked at the as a competitor to their own
movement plan of
uniting the working Thorstein Veblen, who had his own
classes.
economic system, opposed Zionism on bizarre grounds. Veblen ad-

mired the Jew as a fellow cynic, but he feared that "normalization"
in Palestine would rob Christian countries of a much-needed
leaven! 62
Suchliberal opposition, however, was destined to be more
ephem-
eralthan the type of anti-Zionism that was beginning to be based
on material considerations. Even before 1914, our vaunted isolation-
ism was being steadily undermined by economic and cultural ex-
pansion in remote parts of the world. In 1913, the Standard Oil Com-
pany acquired its first Near Eastern reserves. Some of the "dollar
diplomats" of the Taft-Knox era argued that overconcern for Jewish

rights had cost us trade with both Russia and Turkey. Knox
Secretary
himself said that "problems of Zionism involve certain matters
pri-
marily related to the interests of countries other than our own." 63
The Democratic restoration of 1913 inherited a
group of permanent
diplomatic career men who were biased on the subject or prejudiced
against the movement. The missionaries were already exerting pres-
sure, for they had gone into exile to win converts and they looked
at the Zionists as an obstacle to their
program of bringing Christian
civilization to the Near East.
They therefore seized upon the quick-
ening Arab nationalism as promising much more for their future
success. Catholic and Protestant interests their differences and
forgot
united with businessmen, Moslems, and Arab romanticists to form
5 Madison C. Peters, Justice to the
Jew (new and revised ed., IQIO), p 237
so
Independent, LXV (1908), 904-5.
61 XMIX (1914), 103-4.
62 Thorstein
Veblen, "The Intellectual Pre-Eminence of Jews in Modern Europe "
Political Science Quarterly, XXXIV
(1919), 33-42.
as
Quoted in Manuel, op. cit., p. 113.
64
the anti-Zionist coalition of our time. Facing this group was the
rising American Jewish middle class with steadily increasing pres-
tige and voting power. When the chips fell in 1917, the Jews carried
the day only because of the personal inclination of Woodrow Wilson.
To understand the President's decision, it is necessary to explore the
results of the holocaust which had been started at Sarajevo.
The World War were waged in the
eastern battles of the First
heartland of European Jewry. Hence the old problem was accen-
tuated once more just at a time when American Progress! vism had
broadened its outlook to encompass the suppressed nationalities of
the world. center of world Jewish gravity moved to New York.
The
By chance the war caught Dr. Shemarya Levin in the United States,
and he used his incomparable ability to popularize Zionism among
the Jewish masses. At the same time, Louis D. Brandeis joined the
movement and his great organizing genius brought order out of
chaos. American humanitarianism came once more to the aid of the
distressed Jews. The Palestinian settlements survived the Turkish
fury because United States vesselswent through the Allied blockade

tobring succor. Washington allowed Zionist officials the use of gov-
ernment cables to aid in the rescue work. But for fear of American
opinion the Turks might have destroyed all Zionist life and property
in the land, and thus might have destroyed all possibility of the Bal-
65
four Declaration.
As the story of carnage all over the world reached these shores,
men of good will included the Jews in their program of sympathy
and aid for war victims. A
Senate resolution of 1916 called upon the
President to set aside a day of prayer in their behalf. William Howard
Taft urged that the peace settlement deal with the Jewish problem.
William E. Blackstone revived his 1891 petition and persuaded the
Presbyterian General Assembly to go on record in favor of a Pales-

tinian solution. Samuel Gompers brought the American Federation
of Labor in line. By 1917, Zionism had put Jewish aspirations abreast
of the pent-up nationalist hopes of the Irish, the Czechs, the Poles,
the Hindus, and many lesser groups.
64 "The Palestine Question in the Wilson Era," Jewish Social Studies,

Selig Adlcr,
x (1948), 303-34-
65 See
Manuel, op. cit., pp. 119-59.
Woodrow Wilson had to be wary of the Irish and Hindu causes

because of our British ally. His hand was stayed from helping some
other nationalities because of similar international complications. The
Jewish program of 1917, however, was formulated by England her-
self. Germany, moreover, was bidding for Jewish support through
a series of counterproposals. Here was a chance to stand up for a

suppressed nationality and to promote the Allied fortune at the
same time. Nor was Wilson blind to the domestic political implica-
tions. Despite two successive victories, the Democratic party was
still in an essential minorityand Wilson had gained valuable Jewish
support in his snug Over and above these material con-
reelection.
siderations, Wilson had strong convictions on the subject. His early

academic writings, certainly innocent of political ambition, reveal
the old Christian American respect for the Jewish contribution to
civilization. A Calvinist by heritage and temperament, Wilson found
itagreeable to picture himself as the agent of providence. "To think
that I, a son of the manse," he once said half aloud to Stephen Wise,
"should be ableto help restore the Holy Land to its people!" ce Rabbi
Wise quickly reminded him that Cyrus the Great's place in history
had been made secure by the Edict of Ecbatana. Brandeis, one of the
men of "light and learning" with whom Wilson often took counsel,
appealed to the President's rational side. American to the core, the
judge translated the Basle program into language the President could
understand and appreciate.
Thus groundwork had been carefully laid when British pro-
the
homeland reached Washington in the early fall of
posals for a Jewish
1917. Wilson disregarded the sly innuendoes of Colonel House and
the more manly protests of State Department officials. He
gave Lon-
don his approval and allowed Brandeis to make some alterations in
67
the proposed text of the Balfour Declaration. On August 31, 1918,
he reiterated his Zionist interest in an open letter to Rabbi Wise, and
while he was attending the Versailles Peace Conference he allowed
himself to be quoted as saying "that in Palestine shall be laid the
foundations of a Jewish Commonwealth." 6S
66
Stephen S. Wise, Challenging Years (1949), pp. 186-87.
67
Adler, loc. cit.
e* Ibid.
Wilson had caught the anti-Zionists off guard. Shortly, however,
formidable opposition, including the American "Protest Rabbiner,"
formed a bloc to whittle down the moral commitment. Wilson would
have been capable of halting the ambiguity that his subordinates
read into actions. Unfortunately for the Jews, however, the President
cherished the naive notion that the Great Powers would live up to
their written agreements. The Peace Conference strained his ebbing
strength and he collapsed completely during the fight for acceptance

of the League of Nations. When he made a partial recovery, Zion-
ism was all but blotted out of his mind by more vexing questions.
Even before his illness, Wilson had yielded to the anti-Zionists by
sending the biased King-Crane Commission to the Holy Land,
Characteristically, he overestimated the altruism of the British and
underestimated domestic opposition. His vacillating policy after 1919
allowed State Department contempt for Zionism to jell into a hard-
ened policy. Yet it was in Wilson's day that the affinity between the
United States and world Jewry was translated into Zionist terms.
Even Theodore Roosevelt, whose hatred for Wilson's deeds is pro-
verbial, recognized this change. Roosevelt reassured a Chattanooga
rabbi that Zionism was not inconsistent with Americanism and that
the whole idea seemed to him to be "entirely proper." 6& Shortly be-
fore his death, the Colonel wrote Lord Bryce that the peace settle-
ment should give Palestine to the Jews and that the Arabs should
be made independent. 70 Roosevelt saw no incongruity between the
two programs, but the British Colonial Office was long addicted to a
divide et impera policy.
After 1920, America withdrew from the grand plans of Wilson for
international order. In the prevailing mood of resurgent isolationism,
all the Zionists could expect were the usual verbal sops handed out
in election years to organized groups with a legitimate purpose. The

White House issued statements filled with empty pleasantries, while
men on Capitol Hill put in the Record sympathetic but carefully
emasculated endorsements. Such statements often made headlines,
particularly in the Anglo-Jewish press, while American purchases
of
Julian H. Miller, September 16, 1918. The Letters of Theodore

69 Roosevelt to
Roosevelt, cds. Elting E. Morison et. al. (1954), VIII, 1372.

70 Roosevelt to
Bryce, August 7, 1918, ibid., pp. I35 8 ~59*
oil lands in Iraq or Saudi Arabia were ignored or relegated to the

back pages. Postwar pogroms, frustration of the minority guarantees
of the Treaty of Versailles in the European succession states, Henry
Ford, and the Ku Klux Klan all helped make the American Jew
increasingly aware of his identity. Meanwhile,
American Zionist
stakes in the land grew steadily. The Jews watched Palestine with
pride, and active opposition to Zionism decreased as classical Reform

theology gave way among the younger Reform rabbis to a greater
interest in specific Holy Land projects.
Honeyed words from American statesmen served as a shield to
guard the steady retreat from Wilson's position. Consular reports

from the Near East frequently reported communism among the
Jewish pioneers, drew invidious distinctions between "Jews" and
"Zionists,"showed increasing pro-Arab sympathy, questioned the
economic absorptive capacity of the land, and constantly expressed
71
fear for the safety of Christian shrines. British pronouncements
72
paring down the Balfour Declaration were secretly applauded.
Secretary of State Hughes and his successors paid scant attention to

the Joint Congressional Resolution of 1922, which, despite cautious
of "the establishment in Palestine
phrasing, implied moral approval
of a National Home for the Jewish People." The 1924 Anglo-Amer-
ican Mandate was negotiated to protect United States interests in
the Mandatory Business and missionary rights were spelled

state.
out, while Zionists had to be content with the mere inclusion of the
text of the Balfour Declaration in the preamble of the agreement.
Then the State Department set a precedent by hedging the American
moral commitment with legal prescriptions. In effect, this meant
acquiesence in British determination to play off the Jews against the
Arabs. "Why," asked Secretary Stimson after the 1929 riots, "should
71
These observations are based upon an examination of the Department of State's
file867 N. oo, Palestinian Relations, 1922-29, by the present writer in 1947 at the
Department of State. I am grateful to the Department for permission to use this
material, granted by C. Bernard Noble, Chief, Division of Historical Policy Research,
on March 24, 1948.
72 On
May 10, 1923, George E. Cobb, vice-consul in Jerusalem, wrote to Secretary
of State Charles E. Hughes: "The Balfour Declaration appears to be rendered less
and less objectionable each time some principle of it is enunciated." File 867 N. oo,
No. 1148, Department of State.
the American Government assist in presenting either the Jewish or
the Arab side?" 73 After 1933, Secretary Hull continued the policy of
his Republican predecessors. Down to the end of the "War for Sur-
vival/' Hull insisted that the United States could only extend its
"good offices," for Palestine British problem. Not until the

was a
carnage of Hitler was fully revealed was there any substantial change
in this attitude.
Though the State Department clung to a neutralist Palestinian
position long after Germany's genocide, public opinion veered

sharply toward a Zionist solution. Liberal Christians abandoned in-
difference for active support. Professor Carl J. Friedrich has stated
that his doubts about Zionism lifted when he realized that there just
was no other "home" but Palestine for Germany's stepchildren.
James G. McDonald, a Midwestern professor of Scotch and German
ancestry, met Hitler face to face in his capacity as High Commis-
sioner of Refugees for the League of Nations. McDonald grasped the
peril of the situation and concluded that only the opening wide of
European Jewry. Yet until 1938, until
Palestine's doors could salvage
the tragic farce at Evian, thepowers toyed with the possibility of
some other haven. Then hostages to fortune were given at Munich,
and within a year war was to doom six million innocent human
beings who could somehow have been plucked from the fire.
During all of this time Franklin D. Roosevelt was in the White
House. The majority of American Jews voted for him "again, again,
and again." They did more than vote for him they hailed him as
their deliverer from the modern Haman. Since 1945 there has been
some reversal of opinion, for Roosevelt died soon after the much-
publicized Ibn Saud meeting. Yet Sumner Welles is correct

in say-
ing that no other President, save Wilson, was so deeply moved by

Zionism as F.D.R. 74 The paradox can be resolved in understanding
the man. Roosevelt the politician was cautious and seldom took a
position far in advance
of public opinion. Roosevelt, nevertheless,
would have liked to solve the Jewish problem. During his first term,
his hand was stayed by the prevalent mood of withdrawal; during
7S
Quoted in Manuel, op. ctt. t p. 302.
t* We Need Not Fail (1948), p. 28.
his second term, he held off in order not to complicate British

troubles in the Middle East while the Empire girded for war; dur-
ing his third term, he made precisely the same mistake with the
Arabs that he made with the Russians. An incurable optimist, he
assumed that he would always be around to convince any disputants
to make peace via a "bourbon and branch-water compromise." Un-
fortunately for mankind, however, neither Russian commissars nor

Arab chieftains were as pliable as Congressional politicos.
While the British on the
all but closed the Palestinian shelter
grounds Arabs
that the might defect to the Axis powers, American
Zionists were put off with fine words and legal casuistry. If Roose-
velt grieved about the 1939 White Paper, he made sure that the
75
British did not hear the full extent of his displeasure. "In general,"
Cordell Hull has admitted, "the President at times talked both ways
76
to Zionists and Arabs, besieged as he was by each camp." When
war came problem was brushed aside to assuage
in 1939, the Jewish
the wants of other victims who might
conceivably do business with
Hitler. The war, moreover, changed the entire nature of American
Middle Eastern interests. We were now no longer a disinterested
observer, for communication lines, oil reserves, airfields, and restive
Arabs had made the Jordan one of our frontiers. By 1945, there
were no longer any remote parts of the earth and the Middle East
was a trigger that could be pulled to start another general conflict.
We now faced the Russian bear and the land bridge of three con-
tinents was cardinal to geopolitical strategy. The volatile Arabs were
now possible pawns for a new enemy and their lands contained more
than half of the proven oil reserves of the world.
Even before these facts emerged, the Zionists realized that they
were facing a new problem. Pro-Arab sympathy was now based on
oil-land holdings, and Islamic friendship could be pictured as the
keystone of national security. In 1943, President Roosevelt promised

King Ibn Saud that no change would be made in the Palestinian
policy without the prior consent of both sides. The status quo, now
at the mercy of Arab generosity, closed the doors to further Jewish
Memoirs of Cordell Hull (1948), II, 1530.

76
Ibid., H, 1536.
immigration and seriously jeopardized the Zionist dream. The Jews,

however, had already lost patience under the provocation of insuf-
ferable decimation. The World Zionist Movement, backed by the
overwhelming majority of American Jews, called for a Jewish Com-

monwealth, a Jewish army to defend it, and the "open door" in
Palestine. The issue was now joined and American Jews had their
own resources. The Republican party, long out of office, was anxious
to drive wedges into the Rooseveltian coalition of urbanized im-
migrant groups. The isolationist old guard, including Representa-

tives Hamilton Fish, Joseph W. Martin, and Senator William
Langer, relished the idea of giving the British lion's tail a friendly
little twist. The Democrats, with an eye on 1944, allowed the matter
to be aired in Congressional hearings and each party tried to outbid

the other in the Zionist plank of their political platforms for the
wartime election.
When the time came to collect the pledge, it was Truman who
had to face the eager creditors. Among other things, F.D.R. had be-
queathed to his successor the problem of finding a home for the

remnant of European Jewry. There was no place but Palestine, but
that home had been mortgaged to Ibn Saud. Such news as official
Washington received from the Middle East filtered in through

British sources, for we had no intelligence division in that region. Re-
at face value reflected the views of men
ports, then, that were taken
who wanted to keep the Arab feudalists in power. After twelve
years of delving into the problem, Roosevelt had left Truman only
the Pollyanna hope that the Arabs would, in good time, listen to
reason.And, to doom even such fancy to failure, the Arab League
had been founded at Cairo a few days before F.D.R. left on his fatal
trip to Warm Springs, Georgia.

Historians are not yet privy to most of the secret documents of the
past decade. Wedo know enough, however, to explain the weird
gyrations of President Truman's Palestinian policy in terms of the
conflicting pressures which played upon him. His military advisers
reasoned that to contain communism it was safer to placate the
many Arabs rather than few Jews. When Attlee replaced
the
Churchill, in the summer of 1945, his Labour party preferred ex-

pediency to consistency and so increased British pressure was brought

to bear against the Zionist cause. While there was no Arab vote in
the United States, their case was powerfully argued by Philip K.
Hitti, Princeton historian; William E. Hocking, Harvard philos-
opher; and Kermit Roosevelt, who bore a magic name. The Arab
states sent their most attractive doctors of philosophy here as diplo-
matic and consular officials, and such men were made welcome in
missionary circles. Some members

of the State Department personnel,
who made anti-Zionism part of their "careers," insisted that the
United States must woo the Arab bloc of votes in the fledgling
United Nations. Spokesmen for the oil companies explained that the
war had depleted the old reserves and chained Arab appeasement to
the magic phrase "national security." And what of the American
citizen who was neither a Jew, an Arab, a soldier, or an oil pro-
moter? He relief on V-J Day and was prepared to
heaved a sigh of
support any program would
that promise a maximum amount of
peace with a minimum limit on American commitments. Revela-
tions of the concentration camps were enough to make men livid, but
a dozen years of horror had raised the threshold of sensitivity to
barbarism.
There was, however, another horn to Mr. Truman's dilemma. As
a civilized victor nation the United States had to solve the havoc
wrought by an inhuman enemy. That pitiable remnant of humanity
known as the "DJVs" could not be talked away, and Hitler's
just
crematories had aroused the humanitarians. Where were the victims
of the terror to go ? Obviously they could not remain in the land of
their affliction; it was both impossible and futile to push them be-
hind the rapidly falling Iron Curtain, and the victorious and neu-
tralist powers just would not open their gates. Palestine was the only
feasible solution. Rational men, moreover, argued that the nascent
Jewish Commonwealth was the only island of democracy amidst a

sea of Arab autocracy. A grass-roots politician, Truman well knew
that his party must hold the Roosevelt bloc of city voters. Senator
Robert A. Taft, Republican Nestor, was pro-Zionist and he joined
Senator Robert Wagner in an open letter to Truman pleading the
Jewish cause. During the Congressional campaign of 1946, the Presi-
dent acknowledged that the United States shared a "certain re-
sponsibility" for the future disposition of Palestine. When the Re-

publicans gained control of Congress in that election, it was more
necessary than ever before to calk seams of the Rooseveltian union.
But there were even deeper considerations. A
dictated autobiography
is similar to a free-association test. Truman's recollections, as related
to William Hillman, show a marked tendency to

harp upon the
Judeo-Christian theme and his words are well larded with Biblical
quotations.
Caught between the jaws of a vise, Truman vacillated for three
yearson Palestine. Addicted to the American habit of political give
and take, he tried a middle-of-the-road policy on an issue that could
not be compromised. When he pressed the British to allow one hun-
dred thousand Jews in to alleviate the immediate crisis, London fell
back on the old stalling device of an Inquiry. The resultant Anglo-
American Committee heard the shopworn arguments once more and
reported in favor of a temporary trusteeship under the United Na-
ations. For the nonce, the British were to admit one hundred thou-
sand homeless Jews. Truman seized upon this latter stipulation, but
Downing Street torpedoed the plan upon the dissolution
by insisting
of the Haganah and demanding American commitments that were
77
politically impossible. Then still another committee submitted a
complicated partition scheme dubbed the Morrison Plan. Like all
Gaul, Palestine was to be divided into three parts with the British
holding the leading strings. The idea pleased no one save London,
and the vexing problem remained.
Events now began to move rapidly toward a climax. England
tossed the whole question on the shaky knees of the United Nations.
By this time Ernest Bevin's crude and ill-tempered remarks had
made the President angry. Truman wanted a decision. With great
skill, the American delegation mustered enough votes in the General
Assembly to carry a vote for partition on November 29, 1947. Then

Great Britain precipitated another crisis by announcing that on May
it would withdraw its troops and abandon the Mandate.
15, 1948,
The American anti-Zionist forces now rallied for a "Battle of the
77
Manuel, op. at., p. 324.
Bulge." the powerful support of Secretary of Defense James D.

With
Forrestal and robust economic interests, the United States reversed
itself on partition on March 19, 1948.
Ambassador Warren R. Austin
told the Security Council that we were now convinced that partition
could not be implemented without violence. In the light of existing
realized the full im-
knowledge, it is
questionable if the President
78
plications of this decision. Nevertheless, he backed Austin and the
State Department and tried to explain the reversal to a bewildered
country. American delegates Lake Success were in the process of

at
pushing a new trusteeship plan when Truman was faced, on May

14, 1948, with
the Israeli Declaration of Independence.
This time the President left the diplomats holding the bag. He
recognized Israel with a speed reminiscent of the 1903 Panama coup.

We thus were the first nation in the world to extend recognition and,
early in this welcome to the family of nations was made de

1949,
jure. The new was given a loan by the Export-Import Bank,
state
and the United urged Israel's admittance to the United Na-

States
tions. President Truman named James G. McDonald as first am-
bassador to Israel and gave his mission full support. Why did Tru-
man do so much? "Men's motives," Allan Nevins has observed, "are
seldom simple, seldom completely logical, and seldom quite clear
79
even to themselves." There was, to be sure, no feasible alternative
to the President's decision had led nowhere. It was
all other plans
the election year of 1948 and Truman wanted vindication at the
polls. Over
and above these surface motives, however, Truman
sensed something profound and meaningful in the Jewish Restora-
His favorite Psalm begins with the stirring words: "By the
tion.
There we sat down, yea, we wept, When we re-

rivers of Babylon,
membered Zion." Truman has said that he can never read the ac-
count of the theophany at Sinai without a tingle going down his
basis of this nation's law," he once de-
spine. "The fundamental
80
clared, "was given to Moses on the Mount." His own Baptist
78
Ibid., p. 345.
79 Oideal Union (1947),
of the II, 105-6.
80 Mr. Hillman (1952),
President, ed. William p. 72.
training stressed the return to Zion, for

such theology was indigenous
to the teachings of that denomination.
The United States emerged as a world power at a time when per-

of universal peace as the
petual war threatened to replace the idea
therefore often
ordinary habit of the nations. Reasons of state have
thwarted the sentimental and humanitarian impulses of the makers
of American foreignpolicy. Nevertheless,
the impelling force of the
Judeo-Christian tradition has tempered the vicissitudes of power

van Oet-
politics. Some170-odd years ago, Rabbi Hendla Yochanan
a in Hebrew for the welfare of the United
tingen composed prayer
States. "As Thou has granted to these thirteen States of America
everlasting freedom," he wrote, "so mayst Thou bring

us forth again
8l
from bondage into freedom." American interest in the Holy Land
began with theology, and matters pertaining to God
as well as to
Caesar have played some part in every vital decision on the issue.
This background augurs well for lasting friendship between the
United States and Israel democratic partners in the quest for peace.
81 ff.
Mahler, op. cit. f May-June, 1953, pp. 25
ZION IN AMERICAN CHRISTIAN
MOVEMENTS
ROBERT T. HANDY
The idea of Zion was an important one in the opening stages of

American Christian history, especially in New England. The Puritan
dream of a Bible Commonwealth was not infrequently described by
those who left their homeland for the new world, but never more
clearly than by Captain Edward Johnson, who flatly declared, "this
is Lord will create a new Heaven, and a new
the place where the
Earth in, new Churches, and a new Common-wealth together.** *
Johnson's history of Massachusetts the first to be written was a
frank defense of this Puritan Zion in a new land, boldly entitled
Wonder-Wording Providence of Sions Saviour in New England,
1628-1651. His "typical Puritan" bids his friends in old England
farewell by saying, "What doe you, weeping and breaking my heart?
I am now prest for the service of our Lord Christ, to re-build the
2
most glorious Edifice of Mount Sion in a Wildernesse."
The early New England Puritan idea of Zion was a broad one,
which included both the ecclesiastical and the civil spheres. The
magistrates had their part in securing Zion as well as did the clergy;
as Johnson expressed it, "they are Eyes of Restraint set up for Walles
1
Johnson's Wonder-Wording Providence, 16281651 ("Original Narratives of Early
American History," ed. J. Franklin Jameson [1910]), p. 25.
2
Ibid., p. 52.
284
Zion in American Christian Movements 285
and Bulworks, to surround the Sion of God." From the time that 3
John Winthrop on the voyage over spoke of the new plantation as a

city upon a hill, to which the eyes of all people would be turned,
pious New Englanders interpreted their commonwealth in the

wilderness as the climax of the course of God's providence in the
world. Believing that their way was the supreme and purest embodi-
ment of the Reformation, they viewed the great migration of the
1630'$ from Old England to New

as the gathering of the saints to the
new land of promise.
It is certainly not strange that they made much use of the idea of
Zion, for they were serious and ardent Biblicists, tireless in probing
both Old and New Testaments that they might the better under-
stand God's will for them. They searched the Scriptures, seeking
guidance not only for their spiritual lives but for their intellectual
and corporate lives as well. As John Cotton, referring to his favorite
English theologian, once summed it
up :
I am
very apt to believe, what Mr. Perkins hath, in one of his prefactory
pages to his golden chaine, that the word, and scriptures of God doe
conteyne a short upolupsis, or platforme, not onely of theology, but also
of other sacred sciences, (as he calleth them) attendants, and handmaids
thereunto, which he maketh ethicks, economicks, politicks, church-gov-
ernment, prophecy, academy. It is very suitable to Gods all-sufficient
wisdome, and to the fulness and perfection of the Holy Scriptures, not
only to prescribe perfect rules for the right ordering of a private mans
soule to everlasting blessedness with himselfe, but also for the right
4
ordering of a mans family, yea, of the commonwealth too. . . .
The ideas and images of Bible times were as real to the New Eng-
land Puritans as the rocks that lay strewn on their fields, and they
appropriated the former as assiduously as they cleared the
latter away.
Schooled by their careful and continued reading of the Bible, they

applied ancient promises to new Jerusalem, and believed
that God's
providence was bringing them to glorious

Zion indeed.
The story of the failure of these high hopes has been often told;
8
Ibid., p. 32.
*
"Copy of a Letter from Mr. Cotton to Lord Say and Seal in the Year 1636,**
Perry Miller and Thomas H. Johnson, The Puritans (1938), p. 209.

instead of "the most glorious Edifice of Mount Sion in a Wilder-

nesse" there arose a Yankee city in which courthouse and counting-
house became as important as meetinghouse. But the Protestant habit
of Bible reading persisted nevertheless, and the Scriptures remained
the source of inspiration and religious authority long after the earlier
Puritan dream had faded. As other groups of Christians which also
put great stress on the Bible
as the source of their authority pushed
claims served to maintain the intensity with which
in, the conflicting
the sacred page was studied. They could scarcely read without find-
ing there the idea of Zion, but that it referred to a Holy Common-
wealth seemed less and less plausible to them. So they reverted to
another meaning for the concept, one that had a long history in
Christian thought they understood it to refer to the Christian
church.
The early New England Puritan Calvinists, careful in definition,
had spelled out their understanding of the church with great care in
the famous Cambridge Platform of 1648. After explaining that the
church in its broadest sense was the whole company of the elect, they
went on to specify its other meanings:
This church is either Triumphant, or Militant: Triumphant, the num-

ber of them who are Glorified in heaven; Militant, the number of them
who are conflicting with their enemies upon earth.
This Militant Church is to be considered as Invisible; & Visible: In-
wherein they stand to Christ, as a
visible, in respect of their relation
body unto the head, being united unto him, by the spirit of God, &
faith in their hearts: Visible, in respect of the profession of their faith,
in their persons, & in particular Churches: & so there may be acknowl-
edged an universal visible Church. 5
It was to the Church Militant of this definition that the Calvinist

divines tended to apply the idea of Zion as the glowing hopes of the
first generation dimmed, thus narrowing and restricting its
meaning.
The influence of all this was far reaching, for the Calvinists played
a highly significant role in the formation of the American Protestant
G The and
Cambridge Platform of 1648: Abridged from the First Edition Diligently
Compared with the Same, p. 10.
mind. Though the Cambridge Platform was a New England state-

ment, many of its ideas were familiar property elsewhere in the
colonies. Calvinism was the principle theological tradition of Colo-
nial America. Winthrop S. Hudson has recently observed that fully
91 per cent of the churches in the colonial period belonged within

the Puritan-Calvinist-Reformed tradition; and Walter M. Horton has
declared with emphasis that "Calvinism modified by the influence
of revivalism was the leading tradition in American Protestantism." 6
It is easy to see how the identification of the idea of Zion with the
Church Militant could become fairly general.

Jonathan Edwards, that theological giant of the eighteenth cen-
tury, rather exactly illustrates this identification of Zion with church.
In one of his sermons he explained:
Zion, or the city of David of old, was a type of the church; and the
church of God in the Scriptures is perhaps more frequently called by
the name Zion than by any other name. And commonly by Zion is
meant the true church of Christ, or the invisible church of true saints.
But sometimes by this name is meant the visible church, consisting of
those who are outwardly, by profession and external privileges, the peo-
7
ple of God.
In the sermon from which that definition was taken, Edwards did
refer to Zion chiefly in the second sense, as applying to the visible
church. But he also used the term to refer to the other aspect of the
Church Militant, the invisible church. For example, when consider-
ing emigrating to Scotland after his dismissal from his Northampton
pulpit, he wrote, "my own country is
not so dear to me, but that, if
there were an evident prospect of being more serviceable to Zion's
8
interest elsewhere, I could forsake it." Many other preachers and
their people were also applying the idea of Zion to the church,
though often without Edwards' theological precision.

6
Winthrop S.Hudson, The Great Tradition of the American Churches (1953),
p. 46; Walter M. Horton, "Systematic Theology,"
in Protestant Thought in the
Twentieth Century: Whence and Whither'?, ed. Arnold S. Nash (1951), p. 105.
7 From Sermon
XXX, "The Fearfulness which will hereafter Surprise Sinners in
Zion, Represented and Improved," The Works of President Edwards (1849), IV, 489.
8
Quoted in Perry Miller, Jonathan Edwards ("American Men of Letters Series"
[1949]) s P- 225.
Although the earlier dimensions of the concept of Zion in Amer-

ican Christian history were therefore delimited, they survived in in-
direct form to contribute to the dream of the nation's destiny. That
there is some special mission or destiny for America has been an idea
that has captured many imaginations; it has not infrequently been
described by historians of thought. 9 No
doubt one of the constituent
elements in this complex and persistent dream has been the idea of
Zion. There is at least indirect relationship between Winthrop's
vision of a city upon a hill, upon which the eyes of all people are
fixed, Edwards' belief that God has undertaken his last great work
of redemption in America, and such statements as those of Thomas
Jefferson and George Bancroft concerning American destiny. In a
letter to a friend, Jefferson wrote in 1824, "You have many years yet
to come
of vigorous activity, and I confidently trust they will be
employed in cherishing every measure which may foster our broth-

erly union, and perpetuate a constitution of government destined to
be the primitive and precious model of what is to
change the condi-
tion of over the globe." 10 And George Bancroft ten years later
man
closed the introduction to his multivolume history of the United
States with the words, "It is the object of the present work to explain
how the change in the condition of our land has been brought about;
and, as the fortunes of a nation are not under the control of blind
destiny, to follow the steps by which a favoring Providence, calling
our institutions into being, has conducted the country to its present
u Obviously, various motifs went into such
happiness and glory."
statements, but the lingering influence of the hope of Zion, though
in secularized form, was perhaps not least among them.
To
return to the Christian circles of the eighteenth century in
which Zion had come to mean the church, we discover that the
emergence of new religious movements provided new meanings for
the old idea. Edwards today is probably remembered as much as a
9
Cf., e.g., Ralph Henry Gabriel, The Course of American Democratic Thought;
An Intellectual History Since 1815 (1940), esp. pp. 22-25.
10 Thomas
Jefferson to Edward Livingston, April 4, 1824. Memoir, Correspondence,
and Miscellanies from the Papers of Thomas Jefferson (1830), IV, 393.
11 From
History of the United States of America, the Discovery of the Continent,
I (1863), 3-
leader of revivals as a defender of Calvinism; no doubt his
chagrin
would be deep indeed if he could return today to find that his con-
tinuing influence as an exponent of awakening had contributed to
the decline of the Calvinism he so
zealously defended. But in the
long run, revivalism, with its focus on the conversion experience, its
emphasis on a simple faith in Jesus, its preference for the New Testa-
ment, and its oversimplification of theological issues, tended to call
attention to other facets of the idea of Zion. Through the Great
Awakenings of the eighteenth century and the Great Revivals of the

nineteenth, revivalism permeated deep into the the life of American
Protestantism. One of the men who neatly illustrates Walter Hor-
ton's thesis that Calvinism modified by revivalism was the major
tradition in American Protestant theology was Timothy Dwight, re-
membered Yale College as the

chiefly today for his presidency of
eighteenth century closed and the nineteenth opened. His significance
in theological history is that he was a transitional figure between
Calvinism and revivalism. As Sidney E. Mead has made clear, he
was at the outset of his career a Calvinist after the pattern of his
Puritan forbears, an Old or Moderate Calvinist in terms of eight-
12
eenth-century theological parties. But about the turn of the century
Dwight began to encourage and exploit the instrument of revival-
ism, which up to that time the Old Calvinists had opposed. The two
sides of Dwight show in his application of the idea of Zion. At first,
he related it to the Church Militant as had the older divines. In the
cycle of sermons he preached at Yale, completing the round every
four years so that his students would be exposed to his complete
circle of the theological truth, he declared, "The common name for
the Church in the Old Testament is Zion. Under this name it is
spoken of as a Holy Hill; as loved by God; as the heritage of God;

as the Zion of the Holy One of Israel" 13 But he also used the idea
in a second way, and one which the pietistic revivalism of the nine-
teenth century was especially to favor. In a sermon on "The Happi-
ness of Heaven," he reintroduced the idea of Zion, using it with a
12
Sidney Earl Mead, Nathaniel William Taylor, 1786-1858:
A Connecticut Liberal
(1942), pp. vii-x, 38-53-
13
Theology Explained and Defended, In a Series of Sermons (1852), IV, 219.
future reference, to mean either the heaven that is above or the

heavenly city of the Book of Revelation, to be let down out of heaven
at the appointed moment. In describing these glorious prospects,
Dwight quoted from the thirty-fifth chapter of the book of the
prophet Isaiah, significantly inserting an explanatory word of his

own: "When the ransomed of the Lord shall return f and come to the
celestial Zion with songs; everlasting joy shall be upon their heads:
they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee
14
away" The inserted word is of course "celestial," and it was a
celestial Zion that nineteenth-century revivalistic Protestantism was
to emphasize.
It was in the great frontier camp meetings and the countless little
prayer meetings that this use of the idea of Zion was especially
popular. It was not applied with theological precision, for though the
evangelical pietists emphasized the reading of the Bible, they put
little stress on the necessity of formal or theological education. In-
deed, the chief medium of expression for their understanding of

Zion was the revival hymn. A number of little hymnals intended for
camp-meeting use were published in the last century, some of them
with the word Zion actually in the title. To choose but a single ex-
ample, one Peter D. Myers compiled a pocket-sized collection of the
words of hymns which he named The Zion Songster: A Collection
of Hymns and Spiritual Songs, Generally Sung at Camp and Prayer
Meetings, and in Revivals of Religion. It ran through edition after
edition; I have consulted the twentieth, published in 1833, but I have
seen a ninety-fifth edition of 1854, and perhaps there were more. In
the Preface, the editor states that he designed "this selection as a
pocket companion, for the use of all who through faith and patience
inherit the promises, who have left the city of destruction and are on
their way to Mount Zion, the city of the living God." 15 The Zion
motif weaves its way into many of the hymns. Hymn No. 25 begins,
"The glorious day is drawing nigh, / When Zion's light shall come";
No. 43 anticipates that "Soon Jew and Gentile nations / In Zion shall
combine"; No. 49 exhorts all "Zion travellers," all "ransomed now
i*lbid., p. 492.
15 The Zion
Songster (1833), p. 3.
returning," to join in a song of praise. It is clear that the evangelical

Protestantism of the nineteenth century and it was the denomina-
tions which exploited revivalism most
fully which mushroomed into
the giants readily appropriated the idea of Zion to its own
pur-
poses, using it especially with a future meaning, though often ap-
plying it still to the church.
Even while this was going on, however,
theological currents which
tended to avoid Old Testament symbols and prefer New Testament
ones were already flowing. We mentioned the double orientation of
Timothy D wight; so his older contemporary, Samuel Hopkins, has
two sides. On the one hand this man, who had been an intimate of
Edwards, sought to be a champion of "Consistent Calvinism"; but
on the other, and quite unintentionally no doubt, he furthered forces
which in the nineteenth century were to run counter to the cause in
which he believed. His development of the idea of "disinterested
benevolence," for example, contributed to that end. In terms of our
present concern, it is interesting to observe that when he spoke of
the church, he indeed traced its roots deep into Jewish antiquity. In
his massive System of Doctrines he explained :
God has had a church in the world ever since the apostasy of man.
Before the flood there were the sons of God, distinguished from the rest
of mankind, who called on the name of the Lord. It continued in the
family of Noah, and some of his descendants, till the days of Abraham,
when it was more regulated among those who descended from him
the people of Israel. When the Christian dispensation took place, the
church put on a new form in many respects, though it was the same
church as to the essentials of it, and was still the church of God, the
16
church of Christ.
Yet, even as he appropriated Hebrew heritage for Christian church,

he did not speak of Zion at the point in his systematics where he
formally defined the visible church; rather, he used the Testa- New
ment symbols of the kingdom of heaven, or the kingdom of God.
In this he anticipated what finally became one of the major currents
in American Protestant theology to find less and less meaning in the
:
Old Testament inheritance and to focus on the New. The fullest
i* The Works Samuel Hopkins, D.D. (1854), II, 72.

of
climax of this came in the liberal theology which developed in the

latter half of the nineteenth century number of the leading
within a
denominations. Therefore, when
the social gospel arose, predicated
largely on liberal theological premises, it made much of the idea of

the kingdom of God, sweeping both religious and Utopian concep-
tions into the term. To some extent, at least, the social-gospel leaders
had in mind a righteous and purified commonwealth which bears
some resemblance to the Puritan dreams of Zion; but that term they
did not apply, as it had passed out of general use in their brand of
Protestant thought.
The word persists, of course, within Protestantism. It survives in
a few well-known hymns, and is perpetuated in the name of such a
journal as the Methodist Zion's Herald, and in the name of such a

denomination as the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church.
Among the more conservative or evangelistic bodies it continues to
be used in a somewhat conventionalized way to refer either to
church or to heaven.
As these developments which have been briefly sketched were
taking place as the idea of Zion was transmuted to refer to the

Church Militant or promised future, and as it was secularized
to a
until the term itself was dropped the longing for a visible Zion on
earth, a Zion like unto that of which the Puritans had dreamed, did
not wholly disappear from Christian hearts. There were always some
in whom the hunger was deep, and who still sought Zion, and in
religious terms, as a place where the redeemed might gather. In the

eighteenth century, for example, even as Edwards was identifying
Zion with church, on Zion Hill near the Ephrata cloisters in Penn-
sylvania the Eckerling brothers founded a small perfectionist com-
munity, the Zionitic Brotherhood. The Zionites, as they were often
called, engaged in mysterious and magical initiatory rites designed to
render the elect as pure in body and morals as Adam before the Fall.
Their Zion was apparently no enduring city, for it soon disap-
17
peared.
Far more significant were the Shakers, the United Society of Be-
*7 C. Merrill Elmer Gaddis, "Christian Perfection in America" (University of
Chicago doctoral dissertation [revised ed., 1938]), pp. 123-25; and Elmer T. Clark,
The Small Sects in America (revised ed., 1949), p. 139.
Second Appearing. Arising in the eighteenth cen-
lievers in Christ's
tury out of a fusion of French millennial with English Quaker

thought, Shaker faith was brought to this country by Mother Ann
Lee in 1774. The Shakers soon adopted communal life, more for rea-
sons of expedience than theology, and mushroomed to become the
most widely distributed, longest-lived, and largest of all American
communitarian groups. 18 It is significant that Shakers drew many
followers from among those who had been influenced by the frontier
revivals, for they claimed that they had indeed recovered the true
Zion of God to which all might gather. Where the revivalists spoke
of Zion in the future, they spoke of Zion here; where the reformers
spoke of Utopia in the future, they claimed to have achieved it in

their present.
One of the most interesting Shaker publicists in the nineteenth
century was Frederick W. Evans, whose long life almost spanned

the century. He arrived in this country in 1820, a convinced mate-
rialist deeply interested in Utopian socialism. He even undertook to
walk some eight hundred miles from New York

to Massillon, Ohio,
in order communal experiment.

to visit a In the course of his travels
he visited a Shaker community, was won to the cause, and soon be-
19
came a prominent elder and vigorous apologist for the society. He
insisted that the Shakers had made visible the order of the kingdom
ofGod on earth. After describing this order in one of his books, he
summed up by saying:
Therefore, whenever man see a body of people, comprising the high

and low, and poor, bond and free, white or coloured, male and
rich
female, of all classes and nations, who are all enjoying one united in-
terest in things spriritual and temporal, as brethren and sisters in Christ,
and who have proved themselves in these principles for a goodly period
of time, they may know that it is the true church or body of Christ, the
Zion of God to which "all peoples" may freely "flow," as to an ark of
safety, a fountain of love, and
work of salvation.20
18 Cf. Edward Deming Andrews, The People Called Shakers: A Search for the
Perfect Society (1953), esp. pp. 290-92, where there is a discussion of Shaker sta-
tistics.
19
Autobiography of a Shaker and Revelation of the Apocalypse (n.d.), Part I,
20
Shaker Communism: or, Tests of Divine Inspiration (1871), p. 68.
Edward Deming Andrews has given his recent book on The People
Catted Shakers the subtitle A Search -for the Perfect Society, and it
was indeed a perfect society which they sought, a divinely perfect
society, the true Zion.
In still more dramatic, emphatic, and permanent fashion has the
idea of Zion played a central role in the indigenous American reli-
gious movement of Mormonism. William Mulder of the University

of Utah has recently written a splendid article on "Mormonism's
'Gathering': An American Doctrine with a Difference." 21
He finds
that the doctrine of the gathering of the saints in Zion was the oldest
and most influential doctrine of Mormonism, and remains a char-
acteristictheme in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
He declares that Joseph Smith, Mormonism's founder, "saw the idea
of the Kingdom of God as the unifying theme of Scripture, and he
made the assembling of the Saints which would have to precede
that Kingdom to him no mere parable the great unifying theme
of Mormonism." 22 Whereas the other millennarians of the time
those who wrote hymns for The Zion Songster, and those who with
William Miller awaited the end of the world in 1844 were appoint-
ing a time, Smith appointed a place, Missouri, the very heart of the
promised land of America. It was here where ". the Prophet . .
pointed to the very spot where Adam, Ancient of Days, had once
built an altar and where he would come again to preside over his
23
righteous progeny." With hopes high, Mormon leaders in the
early 1830*5 dedicated the new land of Zion for the gathering, and
selected a site for the temple. Disappointment followed disappoint-
ment, however, as the Mormons had to move from Missouri to

Illinois, and then, after their leader was slain, were
by Brig- rallied
ham Young for the long trek to new Zion in the western wilderness,
In part, this aspect of Mormon faith was a revival of the Zion
motif of New
England Puritanism, for the longing had lingered in
the hearts of the descendants of Puritans. David Brion Davis*
thoughtful article on "The New England Origins of Mormonism"
21 Church History, XXIII (September, 1954), 248-64.
zz
lbid., p. 251.
**lbid., p. 253.
explains how the Mormon

emphases represent a partial return to
forgotten theological ideas once so important to England New
Puritanism. 24 Mormonism, he writes, ". . . was a link in the Puritan
tradition, asserting a close and personal God, providential history,
predestination, an ideal theocracy, the importance of a Christian call--
and 25
ing, a church of saints." Though he is of course fully aware
of the differences between the two groups, yet he traces the similar-
itiesconvincingly, and in conclusion observes, "Like the seventeenth
century Puritans, the Mormons saw their political and religious work
as the culmination of history. Their model Zion would be the focal
26
point of the globe and the fulfillment of history." The Puritans
lost their zeal for Zion only to have it recovered by various com-
munitarian groups, most fully by the Mormons.
It is interesting to find that just as the Puritan hope of Zion re-
ceded, so did the Shaker and the Mormon. Arthur E. Bestor, Jr., has
traced the secularization of Shakerism, showing how its emphasis
shifted from theology to social reform in the first half of the nine-
teenth century. 27 The Mormons were also not immune from such a
trend. As William Mulder writes:
For the generation it was Zion as a place that was preached with
first
so muchpassion and commitment and that found expression in the prac-

tical program of immigration and settlement. But as outside influences
broke in upon the harmony of one faith, one Lord, and one people, Zion
became less provincial; the idea and the ideal expanded to mean any
It meant permanent churches and at
place where die pure in heart dwell.
28
last even temples in Europe, once abhorred as Babylon.
Thus the cycle that Puritan Protestantism had gone through

same
tends to repeat itself from Zion as a place, a "glorious Edifice," to
Zion as the visible church.
From the rich mine of the Scriptures, however, modern pilgrims
England Quarterly, XXVI (June, I953)

**Ibid. t p. 158.
**UM. t p. 167.
Backwoods Utopias: The Sectarian and Owcnite Phases of Communitarian So-
27
cialism in America, 1663-1829 (i95)>

28 Mulder,
op, dt., pp. 259 f.
continue to rediscover the vein of Zionist imagery. The first formal

organization of the group known today as Jehovah's Witnesses was
effected in 1884, then called the Zion Watch Tower Society.29
Though the name of the group has been several times changed, the
idea of Zion has not been dropped, but continues to be stressed in the
literature of the movement. For example, in one of their books, en-
titled The Kingdom Is at Hand, it is explained that "from the Scrip-
tures it dawns upon us that the requirements for becoming a mem-
ber of Jehovah's capital organization Zion must be Theocratic and
must be far higher than the standards of men and religionists." 30
Central to Witness faith is the belief that since the First World War
the rule of Satan has ended, and that Jehovah, now reigning through
his capital organization Zion, will soon return to gather the saints
into his glorious Kingdom after the destruction of the worldly at
31
Armageddon. The founder of the society, Charles Taze Russell,
was converted an adventist meeting, and the millennial aspect of
at
the Zion idea persists, along with the emphasis that the society is
also Zion.
Another group which has in recent years laid stress on the idea of
Zion is the Christian Catholic Church. John Alexander Dowie, a
Scot who had left the Congregational ministry for faith healing,
founded it in 1896. Five years later, he built Zion City, Illinois, as a
religious community centering around his new church. Dowie

emphasized the role of the Bible in his movement; he said, indeed,
"None can enter the Christian Catholic Church who will not sub-
scribe to the infallibility and sufficiency and inspiration of the Word
of God in the Old and New Testaments as the rule of faith and
32
practice. It is absolute." He identified Zion with the kingdom of
God, and declared that only his church was related to it. In an ad-
dress in Philadelphia in 1900, he proclaimed that "there is only one
true Church. One Church must come to light, and must, in accord-
29 Charles Samuel Braden, These Also "Believe: A Modern American Cults

Study of
and Minority Religious Movements (1949), p. 360.
30
Anon., The Kingdom Is at Hand (1944), p. 283.
31
366-70.
Ibid., pp.
32
John Alexander Dowie, The Principles, Practices and Purposes of the Christian
Catholic Church in Zion and the Everlasting Gospel: Two Sermons (1903), p. 7.
ance with the sure words of Prophecy, be found in Zion. Zion stands
for the Kingdom of God." 33 When he sought to bring his gospel of
Zion to New York and London in 1903 and 1904, he failed miserably,
and was deposed from office in his absence, though the fundamen-
talist church he founded, with its stresson Zion, survives.34
From the very beginning of American Christian history to the
present, then, the idea of Zion has not been unimportant in the life
of the churches. A
highly significant motif in the formative stages
of Protestant thought, it has gone through a number of changes in
the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Though it has certainly be-
come the major Protestant bodies, it has nevertheless
less central for
played a minor but persistent role in American Christian movements,

now and then emerging as an important focal point for some par-
ticular group. The background that has been traced here should not
be neglected in the consideration of Christian attitudes toward Jewish
settlement in the Holy Land in the twentieth century,
p. 14.
84 Cf.
Clark, op. cit., pp. 154-56.
4
AMERICAN SETTLEMENT IN ISRAEL
ALEXANDER BEIN
America and Israel, as different as these countries are in size,

structure, and outlook, have at the same time much in common,
especially with regard to the manner in which both states were
created. This holds true as we review the similar political struggle
which preceeded their establishment, the manner
which they de-in
clared their independence, and their bitter struggle to maintain it.
But we find not a few common aspects if we consider also the man-
ner in which the real foundations of the social life were laid, that is
to say, the settlement of the country.
Sociopolitical history is, in reality, the result of colonization.

Migrations are caused primarily by the endeavor to find new homes
and new prosperity for people who cannot peacefully remain, for
whatever the reasons, in their native land. The real aim is always to
settle them in a new country and to create there the foundations for
a sound economic life. But it is a recognized truth that a country
only comes into the possession of the immigrating people if the
settlers work the soil of their new home with their own hands and
are strong in their determination to remain. This is the lesson which
every crucial period in the history of countries and peoples teaches us.
The first European settlers on American soil who arrived in the
beginning of the seventeenth century were motivated by a sort of

Messianic belief: a new kingdom of heaven was to be established; a
new order of life more appropriate to their religious feeling was to
be instituted. Not a few of the American settlers had the feeling that
they were to revive the Israel of old in their new endeavor. This be-
298
American Settlement in Israel 299
liefwas drawn partly from Biblical and religious sources, partly
from the more secular ideas of the enlightened eighteenth century,
and more and more from the imperialistic ideals of the nineteenth
century, which in themselves, it should be remembered, had similar
foundations.
The strongest single influence, however, was surely exercised by
the Bible, which served as a primer for the early Puritan settlers and
a guide for their followers. The history and colonization of Israel
in ancient times stood lively before their eyes as example and proto-
type. Nevertheless, in addition to their religious convictions these

pioneers knew that to settle a country meant both to farm its land
and to safeguard what they thus established. They knew their Bible;
but they knew at the same time how to handle plow and gun. And
their realistic attitude merged in their minds and hearts with their
belief that they were fulfilling a mission.
These facts should not be forgotten when the relations between
America and Israel are being appraised, for the motives of the Jewish
settlers in Palestine were in many ways similar to those of the settlers
of the United States. They were both Messianic and realistic; and
the early pioneers of American settlement stood to these modern
Jewish colonists as examples and prototypes of what they themselves

wanted to accomplish.
But there are also basic differences between American and Palestin-
ian colonization. American settlers came to the new continent with
a belief, it is true, in the fulfillment of a mission, but they came to a
foreign country which had never belonged to them and which they
made theirs through work and conquest. Jewish settlers came to
Palestine by way of return: they returned to the land of their fore-
fathers, which, in fact, their consciousness had never ceased to re-
gard as theirs. The belief in this basic assumption, that Jewish im-
there was a return and a
migration into Palestine and settlement
taking possession of what belonged by right to the Jewish people,
was prevalent among almost all of the Jewish settlers. For many of
them it was a religious conviction. In others it operated in various
secular transformations, sometimes even without their being fully
aware of it.
This belief, based as it is on historical fact, gave the Jewish en-

deavor an added impetus and the character of historical continuity.
Its added strength was all the more important because in every other
respect the Jewish settlers were much less fitted for their work than
those of other people than those of America, for example, to con*
tinue the comparison. For long centuries of their life in the Diaspora,
Jews had been estranged from agricultural and manual work. In

setting out to farm the Palestinian earth with their own hands, they
had to labor to overcome not only the nature and habits of the new-
old country, wasted and deserted as it was in most parts, and not only
the enmity of the indigenous Arab population, but they had also to
overcome their own nature and habits, the nature and habits of an
urban people with no agricultural experience and tradition.
The belief in the right of the Jews to return to their country and
settle in it is an acknowledged belief of most Christian denomina-
tions in America, and is the result of the American Christian tradi-

tion (in which the influence of the early Puritan identification with
Israelite history is still to be felt) as well as the American sense of
realities. This tradition created from the outset a basis in the United
States for the sympathetic understanding of any movement, Jewish

or Christian, which held as its aim the settlement of the Holy Land.
As middle of the nineteenth century, some Americans
early as the
had already begun to see the fruit of their plans for such settlement.
In 1852, Warder Cresson, who had been since 1844 the American
consul in Jerusalem and who was a convert to Judaism under the
name of Michael Boaz Israel, set to work "to plant a new Palestine
where the Jewish nation may live by industry, congregate and
prosper."
*
He founded an agricultural colony in the Valley of
Rephaim near Jerusalem, but it did not succeed. A similar fate over-
came two settlements initiated by Christians. The first was founded
upon the initiative of Clorinda S. Minor, the wife of a Philadelphia

merchant. Her settlement, Mount Hope, built soon after Cresson's>
on a tract of land within the precincts of modern Tel Aviv, lasted
1 The Epic
Quoted from Rufus Learsi, Fulfillment: Story of Zionism (1951), p. 35.
See also Frank E. Manuel, The Realities of American Palestine Relations (1949), pp.
10-11.
and then had to be abandoned. The second was a colony

for six years
o 150 American pilgrims from Maine, led by a clergyman named
Adams, which had been set up north of Jaffa in 1866, fifteen years
after Clorinda Minor's Mount Hope experiment.
Theseearly attempts at settlement in Palestine were the attempts
of Messianic believers who underrated the difficulties of settlement
and immigration. They had no practical value for the colonization of
the country, but they are symptomatic of the attitudes which then
prevailed among the American people.

Jewish colonization of Palestine is the result of the efforts of the
Jewish National Renaissance and Return Movement called Chovevei
Zion, "Lovers of Zion," which began in the early eighties of the
nineteenth century and was finally organized in 1897 by Theodor
Herzl into a modern political movement known since then as the
Zionist Movement. Both these movements gave to the work of
settling the country direction, manpower, organization, continuity,

and ever more systematic means of financing.
The background and the propulsion for both im-
sociological
migration and settlement were furnished, of course, by the Jewish
plight in the Diaspora countries, especially in Eastern Europe. Im-
migration came in waves, and we now count seven such waves of
immigration, or Aliyot from the first in the eighties until the last
after the creation of the State of Israel. Moreover, each period of
immigration had its individual character which was imprinted on

the kind of settlement each accomplished, for the human material
and not the colonizing institution was always the decisive force. The
administrative machinery could do much to help or hinder settle-
ment work, but it was always the new immigrants who supplied the
initiative and who determined, in the last analysis, the course of the
2
settlement.
In order to determine what part American Jewry and American
Zionism played in these various Aliyot, we must consider the history
of Zionist settlement in Palestine since its inception.
In the First Aliyah, which began after the pogroms in the south
2 On the history of Jewish immigration into Palestine and settlement there, see the
author's, The Return to the Soil (1952).
of Russia in 1881, American Jewry took almost no part at all, and

that is easy to The
flow of Jewish immigration from
understand.
Russia went in the main to the United States, whose young Jewish
community at that time was involved in its own local problems and
did not play an important role in world Jewish affairs. Immigra-
tion to Palestine from the United States constituted only a small
trickle in this vast exodus overseas of Jewish masses. But in the
latter part of the epoch of Chovevei Zion, at the beginning of the
nineties, the impact of this movement had begun to be felt also
among American Jews. Chovevei Zion societies were created, and to

some of them the love of Zion seemed not sufficient. Men like
Joseph Isaac Bluestone, Alexander Harkavy, and Adam Rosen-
berg founded a society called Shavei Zion, that is, "Returners to
Zion." They planned by the small monthly payments of
to finance,
their members, a settlement of American Jews in Israel since that
time an ever recurrent program of American Jewry. They also set to
work to acquire a tract of land east of the Jordan. Nothing came o
the attempt, but the representative of the society, Adam Rosenberg,
on his way back from Palestine after attempted negotiations for the
acquisition of land, had the opportunity to attend the first Zionist
Congress, convened by Theodor Herzl in Basel in August, 1897.

The appearance of Herzl, as I have noted, gave new direction to
the work in Palestine, Until then, the Jewish National Movement
had suffered from the lack of a large over-all scheme of development.
Now Herzl came forward with his dramatic plan of a Jewish state,
the scope of which was commensurate with the breadth of Zionist
aims and the extent of Jewish distress. Herzl also indicated the ways
in which the plan could be carried out. His ideas were boldly con-
ceived and farsighted. They were imbued throughout with a spirit
of social justice that utterly rejected the principle of mere philan-
thropic assistance. By bringing the development of Palestine into

line with modern technical achievement, these ideas paved the way
to the future.
In the year of Herzl's death, 1904, and especially after the Russian
Revolution of 1905, the immigration wave called the Second Aliyah
began. This was perhaps the most decisive period of colonization in
Palestine.The immigrants of the Second Aliyah, mostly young men
from Russia and Poland, were the first to conceive in all earnestness
exactly what Jewish colonization of Palestine meant. They saw and
felt very clearly the difference between the colonization of an im-
perialistic and conquering people and the settlement of a people
which had been estranged from its land and which was now return-
ing to it. It was they who made explicit the idea that all work in Pales-
tine was to be done by Jews, with their own hands. It became their
leading principle. They understood that only in this way would the
soil truly be returned to Jewish possession forever; that only
through
a living connection with their land would Jews be regenerated and
rejuvenated.
During this period of the Second Aliyah, two interesting attempts
at colonization were undertaken by Jews from America. The first
was originated by a small group of twelve young people, students
of the Jewish Agricultural College at Woodbine, New Jersey. These
twelve students, calling themselves Hai\kar Hatsair, "The Young
Farmer," began to prepare themselves to live on the land in Palestine.
One of the founders of the group, Eliezer Yoffe, came to Palestine
early in 1911. In October, 1912, he took over, with another member

of the group and some other Jewish workers in Palestine, the land
of a workers* farm in the vicinity of Lake Kinneret and cultivated it
for a year on his own responsibility. He intended to develop the

farm into a sort of cooperative settlement. The hopes placed in the
experiment were not realized at that time; but on Yoffe's initiative,
nine years later, in 1921, a moshav ovdim, the first cooperative small-
holders' settlement, was created in Nahalal, in the Valley of Jez-
reel.
During the same period, that is, in the years following 1907, a
with another
group of middle-class Jews from America experimented
of their own economic group
plan, their aim being to enable Jews
to settle on the land. Jews abroad possessing some means not neces-
sarily large and

who had the intention of settling in Palestine, were
to form an association to which they should make payments over a
of almonds,
period of several years. During this period, plantations
olives, or citrus fruits would be laid out
for them and maintained
until sufficiently mature to bear fruit. (Such a settlement was later

called achuza, "estate.") When, after six or seven years, the planta-
tions were ready to yield, the owners would be able to come out and
settle, certain of an assured means of livelihood. In this way, the in-
vestor would be relieved of the anxieties bound up with developing
his holding during the initial period and could in the meantime
continue his life outside Palestine and earn the money necessary for
developing his farm.
The first was founded by a society whose
settlement of this type
members They bought, in 1910, a tract
lived in St. Louis, Missouri.
of land overlooking Lake Kinneret and financed the founding of
the settlement thereon, which they called Poriya. Another society in
Chicago founded, in 1914, a similar settlement nearby, called Sha-

rona. A third negotiated on land in the Sharon Plain, on which,
later, Raanana was founded. All these attempts would perhaps

have succeeded had not the First World War broken out shortly
afterward. Nevertheless, the settlements were renewed after the war
and although not as settlements of American Jews.
still exist,
It was during the First World War, and despite the confusion of
that period, that American Jewry entered for the first time with full
responsibility into the Zionist endeavor for Palestine. Quite apart
from political help, the mobilizing of funds necessary for the settle-
ment work became, to an ever increasing extent, the chief responsi-
bility of American Zionism, although American Zionist leaders also
played an influential part in preparing plans for settlement work and

in their execution as well. From that time on, the period of the Third
Aliyah, real efforts on the part of American Zionists to take an active
part in settling the country itself began to be made,
The first and perhaps most interesting of these efforts was made
while the war was yet in progress on the initiative of the Poale Zion,
the Labor Zionist Movement in America. Among the leaders of the
group at that time were two young Jews from Palestine, David Ben
Gurion and Yitzhak Ben Zvi. They had been expelled in 1915 from
Turkish Palestine by Jamal Pasha, and had organized in this coun-
try a small group of people whose aim was to prepare themselves for
life in Palestine. The organization chose as its name Hechalutz, "The
Pioneer/' and afterward became one of the largest o such move-

ments, especially in Eastern and Central Europe. From these circles
the call to arms went out in 1917. Jews were to volunteer to
urged
serve in the Jewish Legion, at that time in the
process of being
created, in order to help conquer Palestine from the Turks. The sec-
ond and not less important aim of the movement was to create in
this way a living link between Jewish workers in America and
Palestine. "Immigration to Palestine in Khaki" became at that time a
popular Jewish slogan, and, in fact, a large percentage of the volun-

teers did intend to stay in Palestine and settle on the land. Un-
fortunately, only some of the hopes set on the movement were

realized, but in the smallholders' settlements of Avihayil in the Val-
ley of Hefer and Beer Tuvya in Judea one can find not a few setders
who came over from America with the "Jucleans" toward the end
of the First World War.
But the most spectacular undertaking of American Zionism in
the realm of settlement work during the period of the Third Aliyah
and afterward was the work of a company named the American
Zion Commonwealth. This company was founded in September,
1914, on the initiative of the Zionist Organization in New York, and
began its work in 1919. Its object was to secure large sums for land
purchase and settlement in Palestine on a commercial basis. Mem-
bers were to be canvassed throughout the United States and were to
be required to pay the purchase price of areas of land in six annual
installments. They could, if they wished, come and settle on their
to do so; but
property, and it was hoped that they really would wish
if not, the land should not lie waste, but would be leased by the com-
pany to settlements.
By means of extensive propaganda, thousands of Jews, especially

in America and Poland, were induced to invest varying amounts of
money company and its subsidiaries and to undertake to con-
in the
tinue their payments for some years to come. Relying on those pay-
ments and prospects, the American Zion Commonwealth extended
considerably. For several years, particularly during
its activities the
the became the
period of the Fourth Aliyah, in it
years 1914-27,
of land in Palestine and at the same time undertook
largest buyer
the work of settlement on such a scale that hardly any other organ-
ization could compete with it at that time.
In 1919, the American Zion Commonwealth founded the moshav
Balfouriya in the heart of the Valley of Jezreel. In 1923, it acquired
a fairly large tract of land in the Sharon Plain, prepared it for settle-
ment., and two years later founded the private settlement (moshavd)
Herzliya. At about the same time the company founded Afule, also
in the center of this fertile valley. Both Herzliya and Afule are in
existence today, the former a flourishing suburb of Tel Aviv and the
latteran expanding country town. But more important for the de-
velopment of Palestine than all of its transactions was the purchase
of a large tract of land between Haifa and Acre known as Emek
Zevulun.
In the meantime, however, the financial situation of the company
had greatly deteriorated. The activities of the American Zion Com-
monwealth and its subsidiaries had been based on the assumption
that the boom in the world economy and the American economy
would continue indefinitely. This naive faith was shattered by the
slump which began in Palestine in 1927 and developed in America
and in the world at large two years later. The consequence of this
slump was that payment by purchasers in Poland and America de-
creased, and in the end dwindled away altogether. The company,
which had practically no means of its own, was unable to honor its
commitments, and Keren Hayesod (the Palestine Foundation Fund)
and the Jewish National Fund had to intervene in order to save the
lands and the name of Zionist official institutions. But although the
history of the American Zionist Commonwealth ended in failure, it

must be noted that it was through its initiative that large tracts of
land were bought by Jewish institutions which perhaps would not
have ventured to do so otherwise, and that settlements were founded
which continue to exist and to develop.
The work of another company of American Zionists was built on
sounder foundations. After the split between American Zionist lead-
ership (under the guidance of Judges Louis Brandeis and Julian
Mack) and the European trend (under the leadership of Chaim
Weizmann) efforts were made in the United States to build Palestine
in accordance with Brandeis' proposals. For that purpose the Palestine
Cooperative Company was founded in 1922, and in 1926 reorganized

as the Palestine Economic Corporation.
The most important contribution of this company to the agri-
cultural development of the land was in the field of irrigation.
Palestinian agriculture is to a very large extent dependent on the
possibilities of irrigating the land. There was a time when Palestine

was spoken of as a dry country whose natural possibilities could not
support any increase in population, but modern irrigation methods
have proved this assumption to be untrue. Herzl had already planned
to useAmerican agricultural machinery for the systematic develop-
ment of the country, and it was one of the most important services
which American Zionism performed for the development of Jewish
Palestine when the Palestine Economic Corporation transported, for
the time in 1932, a deep-drilling machine, and succeeded in
first
finding water in a place in the lower Galilee which had always been
thought of as lacking it. The Palestine Economic Corporation also
organized, in a fairly systematic way, water companies, which took

upon themselves the development of water resources in certain areas,
relieving the settlers themselves of this heavy burden.
All the endeavors which have been described thus far were
primarily American
activities of Zionists and financed more or less
by them, activities meant to further agricultural development in

Palestine and to influence it in directions close to the American and
American Jewish mind. But it was only in very small numbers that
American Jews themselves emigrated and settled in the colonies
founded as a result of their planning and financing. The turn to self-
realization through actual settlement on the land came through the
pioneer movement which grew up in the wake of the so-called Fifth

Aliyah, and the events which gave to this immigration movement its
impetus were the fate of German Jewry under Nazi rule and the
great need of the country for pioneering elements.
It may seem a strange fact, but perhaps understandable to peo-
ple versed in the psychology of youth, that youthful pioneering

ele-
ments were always especially attracted to Palestine in times of need.

The need of the country gave to their own lives an aim worthy of the
self-sacrifice which was demanded of them. The Jewish youth, mostly
from Eastern European countries, who had immigrated since the

Second Aliyah, dedicated their lives to the country only when they
understood that without Jewish workers, prepared at the same time
to work and to defend Jewish life and property, Palestine would never
really become a Jewish country. Members of Zionist pioneer move-

ments from Europe who emigrated to America brought the aware-
ness of these facts and aims with them and implanted this awareness
in the minds and hearts of certain circles of American Jewish youth
close to the Labor Zionist Movement. Other movements, such as the
movement and also certain parts of the general Zion-
religious youth
istYouth Movement, followed suit after a while. It was not, however,
a mass movement. Economic conditions in America seem to be too
well developed, the standard of living too high, for the possibility of
arousing a mass movement of immigration and settlement.

Nevertheless, since the middle of the thirties, groups of Zionist
pioneer youth have emigrated from America to Israel. At first they
entered existing settlements, especially fybbutzim, such as Ramat
Yohanan, Afikim, Deganya Bet, and Naan, but they also settled in
moshavim like Kfar Yehezkel and Tsofit, and contributed to their en-
largement and development. In the second stage of their aliyah, from
1937 on, pioneers from America, mostly merging themselves with
pioneer groups from other Diaspora countries or with Israeli youth
groups, themselves founded independent settlements. Altogether,
about fifteen such settlements have been established until now. The
first, Ein Hashofet, in the mountains of Samaria, and Kfar Menahem,
in southern Judea, were established during that heroic period of Jew-

ish settlement which is called "Tower and Stockade," the period of
the strong Arab disturbances from 1936 to 1939.
In spite of these disturbances and in spite of internal difficulties with
the Mandate government, those who were responsible for settlement
decided at that time on a large-scale project: all lands in Jewish hands,
especially lands in frontier districts, had to be settled at once; and since
the new settlers were surrounded by hostile Arabs and had to defend
themselves from the very first day of their existence, the details of the
actual settlement had to be carefully prepared.
They would set out in
the early morning with a large caravan of vehicles transporting pre-

fabricated huts and walls and a watchtower, and accompanied by the
members of neighboring settlements. In the space of one day, the first
encampment had to be erected in such a way that the young settle-

ment could defend itself against attacks of its Arab
neighbors during
that very night. It was in this heroic period in the history of Pales-
tinian colonization that American Jewish youth, active now as a sig-
nificant group, participated, and conquered, by their labor and cour-
age, strongholds in the different frontier regions of Israel.
Since that time, young people from America have continued to
take an active part in colonization. The kibbutzim, Kfar Blum in
i943,Hazor in 1947, Ein Dor and Gesher Haziv in 1948, Sasa, Netivot-
Morasha, Hassolelim, and Barkai in 1949, Kisufim, Urim, Gal On,
and Yiftah in the following years; the new undertaking of a moshav
of dim of the l^kar Qved (Working Farmer) Movement, Orot in
Beer Tuvya; and the moshav shitufi (smallholders' cooperative),
Beit Herut all of these have been attempts to pave the way for Amer-
ican Jews and to adapt the existing forms of settlement to their life.
Since the First World War, American Jewry has taken an ever
increasing and decisive part in financing Jewish settlement in Pales-

tine and to a certain extent has taken part also in its planning. Since
the days of the Second Aliyah, still before the First World War, there
were recurrrent attempts to enable Jews from America to take an
active part, too, in the actual colonization of the land.The work of
the Woodbine Pioneer Group, the members of the Achuza Society,
the practical work of the American Zion Commonwealth, the Pales-
tine Economic Corporation, and similar undertakings have all been
stages in the endeavor to create a closer bond between American

Jewry and the soil of what is now the State of Israel. In the past two
decades, American Jewry has begun to send out pioneers to the
workers' settlements, kibbutzim and moshavim, and their influence
is now
beginning to be felt. It is still, as yet, a very small trickle, not at
allcommensurate with the strength of American Jewry and American
Zionism; but nonetheless, living bridgeheads between Israel and
America in Jewry have thereby been established.
5
UNITED STATES AND ISRAEL:
ELEMENTS OF A COMMON
TRADITION
ABBA EBAN
There are two different concepts of the relationship between Amer-

ica and Israel. There is the concept o a common tradition; and there
is a heresy which rebels against it and which sees something extraor-
dinary and eccentric in the unique fraternity and partnership that

has grown up between the two nations.
According to those who rebel against the theory of a common tradi-
tion, American support for Israel is an inexplicable episode of history,
something with no justification in material power or national self-

interest. These opponents would say that the natural gravitation of
American interest in the Middle East is toward the Moslem and Arab
world, which comprises the majority of the area and the overwhelm-
ing mass of its population; that any policy likely to alienate this world
istherefore contrary to American interests as judged in terms of en-
lightened advantage; that such acts of special favor as the American

people through their government have shown toward the concept
of Israel's revival must be based upon a deep-seated ignorance of the
American people as to their true interest in the world struggle, due
either to an obliviousness of the weight and importance of the Arab
world or perhaps to the peculiar obsessions of certain individual
and administrations motivated by heaven knows what sordid
leaders
310
Elements of a Common Tradition 311
considerations of transient advantage; and that, as soon as possible,

the United States should awake to a true realization of
geopolitical
facts and redress the dislocated balance between its Arab and its
Israel relations.
Such is the doctrine which is heard from
many platforms, re-
verberated from many organs of opinion, and, of course, sounded
in the Arab world itself. It has never ceased to constitute the major
spiritual barrier to the maintenance and development of American-
Israel relations.
I have stated the antithesis in order the better to define the thesis
which I would now like to consider. This thesis is that there are
probably no events in history so different in scale and yet so alike in

American Revolution in the eighteenth
their essential nature as the
century and the establishment of Israel's independence in the present

day and age.
I will suggest that the American-Israel partnership owes perhaps
more to historical affinities reaching deep back into the national ex-
perience of both peoples than to any transient conditions of political

harmony or international expediency. To illustrate how similar these
historical events are, it
might be useful to attempt the exercise of cast-
ing off the specific labels of nationality and culture, the particular
circumstances of the times in which these two separate revolutions
took place, and see if we can reach a formulation which would be
indistinguishably true of both historical events.
What happened in each case was that men thirsting for freedom,
driven by insecurity and persecution but also drawn by the attrac-
tions of building a new civilization, emigrated from all parts of the
world to a new land across the seas. They reclaimed that land from
primeval devastation. They liberated themselves by arduous struggle
from colonial shackles. established a free republic which they
They
then defended against every adversary and peril until it secured its
recognized place in the international family. In the sphere of their
cultural effort, they merged their diverse immigrant cultures into
the unit of the new civilization. They maintained throughout every
ordeal the original moral heritage which had inspired their under-
lying unity of purpose.

312 America and Israel ,
Now I suggest that the sentences which I have just written, or

words similar to them, could serve with equal and infallible literal-
ness either as an introduction to the history of America in the
period of its revolution or as the first paragraph of any history of
Israel in the present time so manifold and mysterious are the links
of common experience which unite dissimilar events across the gulf
of climes and centuries.
If you accept this doctrine, you accept something very far-reach-
ing indeed for both peoples. You reach the conclusion that there is
nothing at all fortuitous or startling in the particular excitement

which Israel's emergence has aroused in the contemporary Ameri-
can mind. Indeed, I would suggest that for any American to remain
hostile or even indifferent to Israel's struggle for independence would
require him to turn his back on the most revered national memories
of his own people. Those who see something eccentric in this part-
nership do a wanton offense to the historical traditions of both peo-

ples. They reveal themselves as understanding nothing essential in
the history either of Israel or of the United States.
Within the framework of this generalization, we can proceed to
investigate some of the common elements in the history of our two
peoples which form the very core of their national character; which
determine their reactions, experiences, and deeds; and which create
this remarkable parallelism between modern Israel and the United
States.
The first element is the fact that both countries are built upon
immigration. Here what matters is not so much the demographic
processes but the actual political conditions which set up the great
movements of population out of which the American miracle was
wrought in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries and out of which
Israel was conceived and formed in our own day and age. It is the
consciousness of being a nation of immigrants which sets the civic
tradition of both peoples.
A
nation of immigrants cannot be a conservative, nation. It is not
a people which sees the pattern of and thought already set as
its life
from time immemorial. By contrast, if you look at some countries

which have experienced no wave of newcomers for centuries, you
see a deep-seated and deep-rooted train o thought and habit of mind
Ifyou take that country which has been perhaps the most homo-
geneous of all countries for many centuries, the Republic of France,
a neat and self -sufficient square, also completely autonomous in its
agriculture, neatly balanced in its industry, speaking a language

which has not received the interaction of any other language for
centuries past, you understand why it is that the contemplation of
the French character five centuries ago would be almost completely
relevant to an analysis of that character today.
Of course, along with the disadvantages of a relatively static culture
there go all the advantages of depth of roots, of the sense of home,
of the nuances and subtleties which are introduced into the lan-
guage and the civilization already existing.
But the United States and Israel are societies of a different kind.
In no single year could they predict their composition a decade ahead.
They have been and I hope will be constantly open to the newest and
most diverse entry of new ideas and new forces. They can never
afford to stop and crystallize the mode of their national life and
thought, for who knows what fresh element will come to bear upon
them and require a substantive transformation of the national mind?
At the origins of the migration movement in both cases, there was
a consciousness among the founding fathers of each republic that the
future of the country lay in its immigration. The normal economic
suspicions of a settled population toward immigrants coming to share

theirmeager resources find no expression, of course, in Israel's early
history,nor do they appear for many decades in the documents of
the American Revolution. In each case, the guiding thought was the
necessity to accept present inconvenience for ultimate strength; a

reluctance to see the body of the nation as something already static,
and a positive desire to see it
grow and evolve even at the cost of the
strains of rapid growth; a sense that true significance lay not in the
achievement of today, but rather in the perspectives which today's
achievement opened up for tomorrow's expansion.
From this came a restlessness, a tendency to look too much forward
than backward, and at the best there came a spirit of tolerance be-
cause an immigrant society constantly facing the impact of new
forces cannot afford the luxury of the ingrained prejudices which a

more settled civilization sometimes permits for itself.
Thus immigration was not meirely an economic movement. It
was a was and for Israel it still is a vision which has positive
vision. It
value in itself. Such symbols as the Statue of Liberty reflect the concept
of a state which is dynamic and progressively expanding; and histori-
ans will be hard put to find better examples than America and Israel
of lands whose culture is profoundly molded by the imprint of im-
migration.
It was perhaps this memory of its own rise by means of immigra-
tion which made American policy very unimpressed by one of the
tritest arguments once deployed in order to discredit the rebuilding
of Israel. Among Israel's
opponents, the process was decried because
it was a
country being built by those who came from outside. Their
parents and their grandparents did not lie in the soil of the country.
Various adverse epithets were applied to the refugee populations of
Europe and Asia who flocked to make up Israel, and an attempt was
made to deny the naturalness of the process, to describe it as some-
thing synthetic and artificial. If this argument appealed at all, it

would only appeal to those countries which had built up a distrust
of immigration, which could not remember when they themselves
underwent this formative experience. But as you glance around the
international table and see such countries as the United States, Can-
ada, New Zealand, and Australia, which are the products of im-
migrant movements, as you look south and see the great Latin
republics, which derive the decisive elements of their population and
culture through a process of immigation from the Iberian Peninsula
and elsewhere in recent centuries, you see illustrated the modern
conception of a state that has nothing in common with the idea of age-
old roots. You find that there are as many states with a consciousness
of being built by immigration as there are states whose memories of
a conservative stability reach back for centuries.
This is quite apart from the decisive circumstance that the physical
absence of Israel from the Holy Land was in Jewish history an irrele-
vancy as compared with the continuity and depth of Jewry's spiritual
and cultural attachment to it, and that the concept of Exile was a
temporary one destined to vanish either under the impact of a Mes-

sianic Age or through the workings of mundane politics. In the
collective life of the Jewish people, this was always a far
stronger
factor than the consciousness of desperation and homelessness.
Thus it is not surprising that the spectacle of a country being built
by immigration, glorying in the very sacrifices which immigration
brings in its train, should have evoked a special interest in this con-
tinent of immigrants which reached its independence through war
and revolution and which still conserves the memory of its war and
the vision of its revolution.
The second common, element in the early historical memory of
both countries is the element of pioneering. Here again there are
many countries which might find it difficult to adjust themselves to
experience because the fabric of their material life has been
Israel's
ready-made for centuries past. For countless decades they have not
known the experience of having to create the very instruments and
the materials of everyday life. Such, for example, must be the horizon
of a man in one of the countries of Western Europe or the British
Isles. The story of an adverse and arduous fight against nature does
not enter the history of those countries except in the dim and remote
past. By contrast, the United States is a country whose pioneering
days are not yet over and which is therefore able to see in Israel's ex-
periences and difficulties, and to hear in the echoes of some of its
temporary distresses, the identical processes which affected its own

birth.
When I hear those who come back from Israel with a lack of under-
I am always forced
standing of the implications of the pioneering age,
to ascribe it to their own lack of acquaintance with the realities of
recent American history. This is but part of a general failure to under-
stand what a pioneering community usually endures in its early
years. Certainly, the endurance and the ordeals of Israel in its first
decade of independence amount almost to comfort and luxury when
compared with the early records of such enemies as pestilence and
disease, enemies human and natural, against which the American
pioneer struggled for a far longer period. There are chronicles extant
which as late as the early decades of the nineteenth century expressed
doubt as to whether it was within the power of man to master and

dominate the wild forces o nature which on this continent were hos-
tile to every possibility of settled life.
The vastness of the country, which is now regarded as the chief
source of economic resources and its power, was in those days

its
as its chief drawback. The problem of establishing com-

regarded
munications across it was deemed likely, if not to prevent the emer-
gence of civilization, at least to operate against the creation of a cen-
tralized authority which could hold sway clear across the continent.
Even that shrewd and sympathetic observer of the American scene,
de Tocqueville, doubted in the fourth decade of the nineteenth cen-
tury whether the sovereignty of the separate states would not in-
evitably prevail against the centralizing forces of the Union. He
envisaged this unhappy outcome because of the difficulties of long-
distance communication and because of the great diversity of cultural
background which marked the inhabitants in what was then but a

very small part of what is now the settled area of the United States.
Here of course, we leave the pattern of the similar. Among the
many complaints against Israel, nobody has complained that it is
too big to bring under centralized control. But people have perhaps
forgotten a little too quickly that the Americans who built this
continent suffered throughout many decades the almost complete
deprivation of what Europe regarded as the minimal amenities of

a civilized Perhaps these observers would recapture their historic
life.
perspective they were to go back and contemplate some of those

if
hardships, the difficulty with which they were overcome, the skep-
ticism with which many observers in the Old World regarded the
entire experiment, the occasional periods of despair and disillusion
but all of these completely put to shame by the
in this continent itself
consciousness of courage which lies in the capacity to endure present
illsfor ultimate good.
In those regions where the pioneering tradition is still alive, I find
itpossible to evoke an especially rapid understanding of Israel's prob-
lems. Among the heresies of the rebels against the community of our
true traditions is the one which claims that insofar as this common
tradition has strength, it derives from the sentiments of the Jewish
population in this country with their special bias for the State of
Yet it is particularly in states like Texas and Arizona, in the
Israel.
Far West and on the Pacific Coast, that you can explain the salient
features of Israel's present struggle in terms which readily appeal to
the contemporary experience of those communities. Therefore, it
isno accident that some of the most determined and fervent sup-
port for Israel comes from those places in which a pro-Israel sympathy
cannot be ascribed in any degree to the effects of Jewish communal
activity.
The twin memories of immigration and pioneering constitute a
fairly firm basis for establishing the case of affinity between these two
historical events, but perhaps they would have little more than an
antiquarian value if
they were not reflected in what is
perhaps the
most important element in our common tradition, the democracy and
the republicanism of both the United States and Israel.
I do not use these two words in any attempt to plunge into the
bipartisan tradition, but rather because they do not mean exactly the
same thing and because they are both present in the political institu-
tions of each country. In each case, the democratic and republican
character of the politics of the state was not something which evolved
out of authoritarian forms.It is something completely original which
existed from the very infancy of the country. Neither Israel nor
America has ever been anything in spirit except democratic and re-
publican. Therefore, the nature of their democracy is different from
that which prevails in some of the democracies of Western Europe
which evolved out of autocratic, monarchical, or aristocratic founda-
tions. And this political affinity is not, perhaps, at all fortuitous.
As early as the first assembly of colonists in New

Haven in 1639,
we find in the writings of Jonathan Mayhew a discussion of the form
of government to which the colonies should aspire. Apparently, for
the listeners, the only manner in which that question could be an-
swered was by reference to the character of ancient Hebrew societies.
In regard to the legal form which the settlers of New England
should establish, Mayhew said, "Hebrew writings hold forth a perfect
rule for the direction and government of all men in all duties which
they are to perform towards God or towards each other, just as much
in the government of families and state and commonwealth as in
matters of the church."

Thereat the elders of New England proceeded to a serious and com-
of society in ancient
pletely strait-laced analysis of the development
Israel, not as an academic exercise, but in order to inspire the char-
acter of their own institutions when debating the question whether
the American society about to be born should remain loyal to the
monarchical tradition and avoid a complete break with the British
Crown. Mayhew again referred to the history of Israel. He pointed
out that a monarchy was imposed upon the people of Israel as a re-
proach in response to their murmurings, as a punishment for their
desire for assimilation to the Oriental monarchies which surrounded
them, the innate desire to be "like other peoples." There was pro-
phetic warning against the evil as well as the potentially good conse-
quences of that assimilation. Mayhew contrasted the democracy of

ancient Israel with the corruption and the license which the
monarchy
inaugurated. He drew the simple conclusion that because monarchy
was not good for Hebrew Israel of old, it could not be the right form
of government for American colonists in a modern century.
I think it is therefore healthy not to regard the similarity of our
institutions and the attitudes of mind of our populations as coinci-
dental. In the case of the States, it was a conscious imitation of
United
the ancient Hebrew and in the case of Israel, it was the
tradition;
normal result of basing our contemporary thought upon the memories
of the early periods of our independence.
Perhaps nothing could better illustrate how consciously the Ameri-

can fathers were adopting the Hebrew tradition, of which modern
Israel is also a conscious revival, than the fact that when Benjamin
Franklin, John Adams, and Thomas Jefferson were discussing the

emblems of the American Union, they suggested and formally pro-
posed that the Seal of the United States should be a portrayal of the
children of Israel fleeing from Egypt through the parted waves of
the Red Sea in order to establish their freedom. The motto which
Franklin, Adams, and Jefferson proposed to illustrate on that seal was
"Rebellion to Tyrants Is Obedience to God."
I have never seen a sentence which more uniquely epitomizes the
entire constancy of Israel's historic experience from the first revolt
against idolatry to the present resistance by Israel to every form of

totalitarian tyrannywhich has arisen on the face of the globe.
think, therefore quite natural, although it should not cease to
It is, I
be moving, that the heads of government in this country and in most

free countries when they take the oath of office lay their hands upon
a book which is after all the history of the spirtual experience of
Israel, and consciously or not they are therefore implicitly subscribing

to the central doctrine of that book, Zion
including the restoration of
and the spiritual mission of Jerusalem.
As we pursue the common threads, we find another in the doctrine
of national independence. I stress it here not in the context of the
American Revolution but in the context of the American attitude to-
ward national independence movements, for this attitude has had its
impact upon the political development of the Middle East and is, I
think, destined to play a still greater part in the political evolution of
that region.
The heresies to which I have alluded state among other things that
American encouragement of Israel's independence is an act of favorit-
ism, an act of discrimination. Under sinister and dark pressures, the
United States for some reason went out of its way to assist across the
seas the formation of a new republic against tremendous and impres-
sive opposition. Such an analysis of American policy totally ignores
the whole general pattern of the American attitude toward move-
ments of national independence. The fact is that nothing whatever
in the American encouragement of Israel's independence has been
foreign to an active and live American tradition which has many

parallels all over the world and especially in the Middle East.
If one goes back to the records of the United Nations' discus-
sions in 1947 and 1948, and examines the language in which the
American representatives justified their support of Israel's statehood,
thesame note appears continually six or seven or eight Arab coun-
:
trieshave, with the assistance of the Western world, sometimes on

the field of battle, secured their independence over a vast area; the
Jewish people, however, has not yet obtained its domain of freedom.
In other words, the United States was assisting Israel to achieve,
within a small and limited domain, that which the Arab peoples had
obtained over a much vaster area.
Although I would not like to deny the special measures of friend-
ship between Israel and the United States, I think we would discredit
this friendship if we were to isolate it from the general context of an
American bias in favor of national independence, of settling colonial
questions by a solution, whatever it is, which replaces colonial tutelage

with some form of autonomy and self-government. There was noth-
ing in the case of Israel other than the application to a particular place
of the doctrine of national self-determination which is a principle
of American foreign policy largely because it responds to the his-
torical memories of the United States itself.
Finally, we find an element of close affinity when we look at the
culture and the science of our two countries, not from the viewpoint
of their standards or their natures, which are obviously divergent, but
rather according to the processes whereby they come into being. They
are both essentially, in the best sense, synthetic; they are put together
from various elements.
There is nothing monolithic or homogeneous about them. Innum-
erable diverse elements, drawn from every race and language and
dogma and tradition, have come together to create an initial confusion

which American history remembers and which Israel still experiences;
but the confusion yields, in a generation or so, to the discipline of an
underlying unity. I do not know of any two peoples who have cre-
ated unified cultures out of so many divergent elements which in the-
ory might have seemed destined to disrupt the very fabric of the na-
tional mind. In most cases I have drawn parallels between two
processes which are similar, but of which the American process was
on a larger scale. That is especially true, of course, of the geographical
and demographic aspects of these experiments.
But there is one area in which Israel exceeds the United States
that of cultural blending. Our spectrum of language and culture is
much wider. The task of harmonization is
really much greater be-
cause, although American society is diverse, there is nothing in its
diversity which compares with that which separates a Western Jew
in Israel from the immigrants from Yemen or
Iraq. At no stage dur-
ing the immigration process of the United States could you say that
there were citizens here who might have come from different worlds
and different centuries. They were from the same centuries and the
same worlds, although from different parts of those worlds at differ-
ent stages in their development.
Therefore, the task of creating a unified cultural personality, which
Israel is successfully carrying out, exceeds in its scope and
challenge
even the process of cultural fusion which marked the early history of
the United States. I doubt whether anything of the sort could have
been achieved in Israel if there did not exist so potent a unifying in-
strument Hebrew language and tradition, sufficiently strong
as the
and permanently rooted, to make its appeal to these modey elements
and, in the course of a generation or two, to obliterate the previous
cultural attachments in favor of the new one which is also the oldest
of them all.
Nevertheless, any student of the history of culture who examines

the process of nation building in Israel will find but one other which
is even remotely similar and that is the process whereby American
civilization was forged out of so many diverse elements as a conse-
quence of a prolonged stream of immigration.
I do not think it is necessary to stress the religious affinities as an-
other common element in the two traditions, for it is an element com-

mon not particularly to America and to Israel but to almost every
country which embraces the Western tradition. The native Hebrew
stream nourished the great tributary rivers of Christianity and Islam
while keeping its own sources perennially refreshed.
In sum, if you find special affinities between the United States and
Israel, you learn that they are not artificial but derive from natural
resemblances in the life and tradition of the two peoples.
We may leave the survey of this common tradition with a reflection

that if American role in the defense of freedom against despotic
the
doctrines must be more powerful than ours, it may well be that
destiny, the inscrutable and constant destiny of the Jewish people, has
given us a more dangerous role to play. We are in a more central
position. We are more closely exposed to attack. We are materially less
equipped to face it. There seems to be something uncanny in this
pattern of historical development whereby the Jewish people becomes

the standard-bearer in the very front line of resistance to every totali-
tarian despotism.
These are therefore likely to be heavy days for us. These are days
when the spirit and morale of Israel and the Jewish people deserve
reinforcement by the leaders of world democracy and, at the very
by the absence of any inadvertent action on their part which
least,
would add to the extraordinary weight of the burden which weighs
down upon us.
Israel may find that there is much anxiety but nothing novel in the
role history has cast for it. And
which it must reflect that its role also
embraces a universal mission. In the words of our tradition, "J eru

-
salem is destined to be a beacon to the nations of the world and they

*
shall go in its light."
1 Pesikta de-R. Kahana, cd. Buber, 21 :44b.
LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS
SELIG ADLER, Professor of History, University of Buffalo
WILLIAM F. ALBRIGHT, W. W. Spence Professor of Semitic Languages,
Johns Hopkins University
SALO W. BARON, Professor of Jewish History, Literature, and Institu-
tions, Columbia University
ALEXANDER BEIN, Director, The Central Zionist Archives, Jerusalem
DAVID BEN GURION, Prime Minister of Israel
MARTIN BUBER, Professor Emeritus of Social Philosophy, Hebrew Uni-
versity, Jerusalem
MOSHE DAVIS, Provost, The Jewish Theological Seminary of America
ABBA EBAN, Ambassador of Israel to the United States
Louis FINKELSTEIN, Chancellor, The Jewish Theological Seminary of
America
CARL J. FRIEDRICH, Easton Professor of the Science of Government,
Harvard University
H. Louis GINSBERG, Sabato Morais Professor ofBiblical History and Lit-
erature, The
Jewish Theological Seminary of America
S. D. GOITEIN, Chairman, School of Oriental Studies, Hebrew Uni-
versity, Jerusalem
HAYIM GREENBERG
ROSE L. HALPRIN, Acting Chairman, The Jewish Agency for Palestine
ROBERT T. HANDY, Associate Professor of Church History, Union
Theological Seminary
HOWARD MUMFORD JONES, Professor of English, Harvard University
MILTON KATIMS, Conductor and Musical Director, The Seattle Sym-
phony Orchestra
YEHUDA LEO KOHN, Weizmann Professor of International Relations,
Hebrew University, Jerusalem
SAUL LIEBERMAN, Dean, The Rabbinical School, The Jewish Theological
Seminary of America
MORDECAI NARKISS, Director, The Bezalel Museum, Jerusalem
3^3
3 24 List of Contributors
ALLAN NEVINS, De Witt Clinton Professor of American History, Colum-

bia University
JACOB ROBINSON, Counselor to the Israel Delegation to the United

Nations
MORTON SMITH, Professor of Biblical Literature, Brown University
INDEX
Aaron, 51 American Assembly, 15
Aaronsohn, Aaron, 271 American Council for Judaism, 269
Abdallah Pasha, 232 American Federation of Labor, 273
Abdullah, King of Jordan, 154-55, 162 American Fund for Israel Institutions,
Abdullah el-Wazir, 152 190
Abot de-Rabbi Natan, 84-86 American Zion Commonwealth, 305-6,
Abraham, 72, 240, 244 309
Aceldama, 243 Amidah, 49, 57
Achuza Society, 309 Amir, 1 87
Acre, 215, 232, 236 Amman, 162
Acts of the Apostles, 53, 72, 73 Amos, 38
Adarn, 240 Ananism, 47
Adams 301
(colonist), Andrews, Edward Deming, 293**, 294
Adams, George, 253 Anglican Church, 172, 256
Adams, Henry, 267 Anti-Defamation League, 22
Adams, John, 253, 318 Antiochus Epiphanes, 51, 52
Adams, John Quincy, 253 Anti-Semitism, 98/2, 106-7, 3 6i, 263
Aden, 176 Antonme emperors, 83
Adler, Sehg, 251-83 Apocalypse, 8
Africa, 149, 223 Apocrypha, 42, 44, 48-49
African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church, Apostolic Constitutions, 69
292 Aquila, 52-53, 68
Aggada, 21, 87 Arab League, 153, 279
Agrippa I, 78 Arab Liberation Movement, 164
Ahrned, Sayf al Islam, 152 Arab states, 61, 113-24, 146, 151, 189,
Akiba, Rabbi, 20 211-12, 216-18, 278-80, 310-11, 3^9;
Akiba Eger, Rabbi, 56 instability in, 151-64
Albright, William F., 31-38, 70 Arabia, 70, 73, 121, 123, 176
Alexander Janneus, 76 Aramaic language, 41, 48, 49, 70, 90
Alexander the Great, 12 Arcadms, 84
Alexandretta, 153 Archaeology, 25, 35-36; see dso Dead
Alexandria, 9, 64, 73, 162, 224 Sea Scrolls
Ahyah, 178, 301-2; Second, 142,
First, Archimedes, 23
302-5, 308, 309; Third, 305; Fourth, Arendt, Hannah, 9437
305-7; Fifth, 307-9 Anstarchus, 23
Allenby, Viscount, 215, 217 Aristeas, Epistle of, 22
Alon, Gedalyahu, 77 Aristotle, 23, 66, 95-96
America, see United States Ark of the Covenant, 33
325
326 Index
Arrau, Claudio, 191 Belmont, August, 267

Art, 6, 20, 183; trends in Israel, 194-203 Ben Gurion, David, xi, 4, 18-28, 38, 128,
Arthur, Chester A., 263 137, 214-26, 221, 225, 226, 304
Asali, Sabri el-, 161 Ben-Haim, P., 193
Asia, 117, 1 1 8, 120, 149 Ben Koseba 3 see Bar Kokba
Asia Minor, 64, 73 Ben Sira, Wisdom of, 46, 48, 71
Assassinations, 147, 150, 152, 155, 159, Ben Yehuda, Eliezer, 38
161-62 Ben Zvi, Yitzhak, 38, 142, 304
Association of Israeli Composers, 190 Bendemann, Edward, 201
Assyria, 17, 34, 52, 59, 62, 252 Bergson, Henri, 225
Atasi, Hasim al-, 161 Berlin, 225
Athaliah, Queen, 132 Bernadotte, Count Folke, 150
Athens, 64, 102, 123; sec also Greece Bernard, Martin Luther's letter to, 98^
Athlit, 215 Bestor, Arthur E., Jr., 295
Attlee, Clement, 279 Bet Shan, 188
Augustine, St., 95, 96-98, 100 Bet Shearim, 68-69, 70
Augustus, Caesar, 231 Bethlehem, 69
Austin, Warren R., 282 Bevin, Ernest, 281
Australia,314 Bezalel School of Arts and Crafts, 195-
Austria, 232 96, 201
Austria-Hungary, 263 Bible, 4, 5, 9, 10, 20-21, 26, 68, 70, 73,
74, 80, 93-94* 95. 99 IO2, 103, 107,
Baalbek, 232 207, 219, 229, 233-34, 240, 245, 253,
Babylonia, 7, 8, 19, 32, 51, 59, 62, 63, 65 255, 284-86, 289-90, 291; and Dead
Bach, Johann Sebastian, 189 Sea Scrolls, see Dead Sea Scrolls;
Bacheler, Origen, 255 Prophets, see Prophets
Bagdad, 115 Bickerman, Elias, 80
Bahai sect, 171 Bill of rights, Israel, 135-36
Balfour, Lord, 225 Bills, 140-41
legislative,
Balfour Declaration, 217, 222, 251, 265, Blackstone, William E., 264, 273
268, 274, 276&7Z Blake, William, 244
Bana, Hassan al-, 161 Bluestone, Joseph Isaac, 302
Bancroft, George, 288 Bolingbroke, Viscount, ioi
Baptist Church, 256 Bossuet, Jacques Bemgne, 99
Bar Kokba (Ben Koseba), Simeon, 20, Bousset, Wilhelm, 69
36, 40-41, 52, 53, 82 Braden, Charles Samuel, 29 6n
Baraitot, 49 Brandeis, Louis D., 270, 273, 274, 306-7
Barazi, Muhsin el-, 162 Brandes, Georg Morris Cohen, 267
Baron, Salo W., 58-66 Brauer, Erich, 181
Basle program, 261, 267 Brody, Hayyim, 59
Becker, Carl, 92 Brothers, Richard, 255
Beckmann, Max, 198 Bryce, Lord, 275
Beecher, Henry Ward, 263 Buber, Martin, xii, 204-13, 219
Beethoven, Ludwig van, 186, 187 Buchanan, James, 262
Bein, Alexander, 298-309 Buddhism, 113
Beirut,157 Bulgaria, 195
Belgium, 198 Bunyan, John, 244
Index 327
Burckhardt, Jakob, 96 Columbia University, 15
Burke, Edmund, 93, ioo, ioi, 148 Columbus, Christopher, 251
Bush, George, 256 Commonwealth, see Israel
Bustani, Emileel-, 157 Communism, 33, 60, 172, 217, 218, 276
Byron, George Gordon, 244-45, 246, 255 Como, Lake, 249
Byzantine Empire, 62 Composers, Israel, 192-93
Comptroller General, Israel, 140
Cabinet, Israel, 136, 140, 142 Conder, Claude R., 266
Caedmon, 233-34 Connecticut, Fundamental Orders of, 132
Cairo, 115; Genizah of, 45, 47 Conservative Judaism, 6, 172
Calendar, ancient, 46 Conservatories of Music, Jerusalem and
Calvin, John, 98 Tel Aviv, 190
Calvinism, 286-87, 289 Constantine, 83
Cambridge Platform, 286-87 Constantinople, 263
Cambridge University Library, 45 Constantius, 83
Canaan, 229, 240, 243 Constitution of Israel, background of,
Canada, 65, 314 130-35; government, 142-43; judicial

Capernaum, 53 system, see Judicial system; legislative
Cappadocia, 73, 88 procedure, 140-41; Parliament, 139-
Captivity, The, 35 40; President, 141-42; provisions of,
Chagall, Marc, 199, 201 135-39; and religion, 168-75

Chaldeans, 50 Cook, Orator F., 271
Chamoun, Camille, 155 Corfu, 238
Channing, William Ellery, 254 Corinth, 64
Charles, King of England, 167 Cotton, John, 285
Chateaubriand, Francois Rene de, 230-31 Councils, municipal and local, Isreal, 143
Chatham, Lord, 58-59 Counter Reformation, 98
Chaucer, Geoffrey, 236 Coups d'etat, 147, 155, 156, 159, 160-61,
Chew, Samuel C., 239 162

China, 92, 123 Courbct, Gustave, 198
Chojctz Chayyim, the, n Courts, Israel, 136, 143-44* 173-74
Chovcvci Zion, 301-2 Covenant, The, 33-34
Christian Catholic Church, 296 Cowper, William, 243
Christianity, 9, 11-12, 19, 20, 36-37, 46, Cresson, Warder, 258, 300
48, 51, 59, 7I-72, 73, 78, 84, 88, 91, Crete, 73
94*95> 97-98, 99-100, 103, 113, 153* Crimean War, 233
229, 231, 232-33, 236, 250, 255, 268, Croly, George, 247
321; and religion in Israel, 169-71; Cromer, Lord, 163
Zion in American movements, 284-97 Cromwell, Oliver, 99
Chronicles, 35 Crusades, 215, 231, 235-36
Churchill, Winston, 216, 279 Cubism, 198
Cleveland, Grover, 263 Cynewulf, 233-34
Coates, Helen, 192 Cyrenaica, 73
Cobb, George E., 276*? Cyrene, 73
Colonization, 62-63, 115, 118,
204-7, Cyriacus, 234
258; American, in Israel, 298-309; see Cyrus, Edict of, 3, 7, n, 274
also Immigration Czechoslovakia, 60, 273
328 Index
Damascus, 115, 262 Ecclesiasticus (Wisdom of Ben Sira),

Daniel, Book of, 8, 51-52, 53, 234 46, 48, 7i
Darwin, Charles, 254, 255 Eckerling brothers, 292
David, King, 21, 34, 61, ggn, 244 Edwards, Jonathan, 252, 253, 287, 288-
Davis, David Brion, 294-95 89, 291, 292
Davis, Moshe, vii-xiii Egypt, 5> 17, *9 22, 32, 33, 56, 59
Dead Sea, 39, 43. 230, 233, 239, 247- 61, 63, 64, 73, 92, 123, 217, 232;
48, 249 political situation, 152, 153-54, J 55>
Dead Sea Scrolls, 36, 39-40, 68; and 156-58, 160, 161-62, 163, 164
Bible in Greco-Roman times, 49-55; at Einstein, Albert, 225
Khirbet Qumran, 42-44; and Khirbet Eisenstein, Ira, 186
Qumran sect, 45-49; and Masoretic Elam, 73
Text, 41, 42, 54-57; at Wadi Murab- Elat, 189
ba'at, 39, 40-42, 53, 56 Elections, Israel, 137, 139, 143, 147, 148,
Deborah, 214 150
Decalogue, 42 Elijah, 241
Decapolis, 61 Eliot, George, 265
De Cordova, Raphael J., 260 Eliot, John, 252
De Gaullists, 216 Emancipation, 65-66
Deism, 253 Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 221, 254
Democracy, 14; Israel as, 146-51; see also En-gedi, 41
Constitution of Israel England, 35, 65, ioi, 138, 144, 148,
Denmark, 60 167, 172, 216-17, 251, 253, 265-66,
Determinism, 33 274-75, 2 76> 278, 281; Israel in Anglo-
Deutero-Isaiah, 8, 10, 12, 14 Saxon tradition, 229-50; see also Man-
Deuteronomy, Book of, 25, 41, 55, 56, datory regime
79> 85 Enlightenment, 253
Diaspora, see Dispersion Enoch, First Book of, 46, 47-48, 49
Diocletian, 88 Ephesus, 64
Dispersion, The, vii, xvii, 18, 22, 28, 32, Ephrata cloisters, 292
63-65, 67-68, 73 81, 91, 121, 133, 195, Epicureanism, 72
198, 205, 206, 208, 224, 225, 300 Epiphanius, 71
Displaced persons, 149, 280 Episcopal Church, 172
Disraeli, Benjamin, 214, 230, 246, 248, Epstein, Lillien and Jehudo, 201
26 Erasmus, Desiderius, 9971, 236
7
District Courts, Israel, 143 Eretz Yisrael, see Israel
Divorce, Israel, law of, 169, 170, 171, Eritrea, 116, 120
172, 173 Esau, 51, 85
Domitian, 75, 77 Essenes, 44, 72, 75> 76, 78, 81
Dowie, John Alexander, 296-97 Esther, Book of, 52
Draft constitution, Israel, see Constitution Euclid, 23
Dru2es, 171 Eusebius, 71
Dwight, Timothy, 289-90, 291 Evans, Frederick W., 293
Evian, 277
Excommunication, 89
Eban, Abba, xi, 111-29, 310-22 Exile, The, 19-24, 27, 35, 59, 65, 149,
Ecbatana, see Cyrus, Edict of 244, 314-15
Index 329
Exodus, 5, 41 Genesis, 41, 51, 234
Export-Import Bank, 282 Gemzah of Cairo, 45, 47
Expressionism, 198 George, Duke of Saxony, 99*1
Ezekiel, 8, 34, 35, 38, 53 Germany, 4, 33, 107, 198, 200, 201, 223,
Ezra, 7, 8, 9, 11, 19, 26, 35, 63 263, 277, 307; see also Nazism
Ghasi, King of Iraq, 155
Far East, 118 Ghetto life, 6, u, 14, 20, 21
Farouk, King of Egypt, 155 Gibbon, Edward, 96
Fascism, 60 Gideon, 214, 244
Fauvism, 198 Gilbert, W. S., 234
Felsenthal, Bernard, 269 Ginsberg, H. Louis, xi, 8, 39-57
Feysal King of Iraq, 155
I, Ginzberg, Louis, 45, 183
Feysal II, King of Iraq, 155 Glover, A. Kingsley, 271
Fifth Ahyah, 307-9 Godkin, Edwin L., 265
Fmkelstein, Louis, ix, x, xi-xii, 3-17, 226 Goitein, S. D., 176-84
First Ahyah, 178, 301-2 Goldberg, Isaac, 2607*
First Jewish Revolt, 40, 43 Goldstein, Ella, 191
Fish, Hamilton, 262, 279 Golgotha, 243
Flood, 88-89 Gompers, Samuel, 273
Ford, Henry, 276 Goodenough, Erwin, 69, 72
Forrestal,James D., 282 Gordis, Robert, 260
Forsyth, John, 262 Gottheil, Richard
J. H., 269
Fourth Ally ah, 305-7 Maurycy, 201

Gottlieb,
France, 65, 116, 123, 141, 153, 158, 161, Government, system of, Israel, 142-43;
198, 201, 216, 218-19, 223, 254, 313; see also Constitution
Revolution, 10572, 116, 119, 253, 259 Grand Island, 260

Franklin, Benjamin, 318 Grant, Ulysses S., 262
Fraser, Peter, 221 Great Awakening, 253, 289
Frederick I, Emperor of Germany, 231, Great Syrian party, 159
235 Greece, 12-13, 21, 22, 23-24, 32, 36, 61-
Freud, Sigmund, 225 62, 102, 103, 123, 166, 218, 224;
Fried en wald, Harry, 269 language, 9, 21, 48, 54, 81; and Pales-
Fnednch, Carl J., 92-107, 277 tinian Judaism, 67-71, 72, 78-81
Fritz, Kurt von, g6n Greek Orthodox Church, 170, 233

Fuller, Margaret, 255-56 Greenberg, Hayim, ix, xu-xiii, xv-xvii,
Fundamental Orders of Connecticut, 132 7 165-75
Gregoire, Henri, 254
Gabriel, Ralph Henry, 288 Grene, David, 95/2, g6n
Gadara, 86-87
Gaddis, Merrill Elmer, 29 2 Habakkuk, Book of, 47, 50, 52
Galerius, 85 Habimah Theater, 190
Galilee, 39, 73, 74, 133, 179-80, 185, Hadrian, 64, 82, 83, 87
187, 194, 307 Haftel, Henry, 188
Galut, 127, 195 Haggadah, 8, 56-57
Gaza, 84 Haggai, 7, 8
Gaza strip, 61 Hai Gaon, 59
Gelber, N. M., 288 Haidar, Rustin, 162
330 Index
Haifa, 143, 171, 179-80, 185 Hichens, Robert, 249-50

Haifa Community Orchestra, 190 Hillel, 73, 80
HaikXar Hatsair, 303 Hillman, William, 281

Halaka, 52, 84-86, 87 Hinduism, 20, 273-74
Halprin, Rose L., xv-xvii Hinnawi, Sami, 161, 162
Halutzim, 205-10 Hippocrates, 23
Halutziut, 27 Histadrut, 222
Handlin, Oscar, 25 2 278
Hitler, Adolf, 277,
Handy, Robert T., 284-97 280

Hitti, Philip K.,
Hanina, Rabbi, 88 Hocking, William E., 280

Hanukkah, 52 Holl, Karl, 987*
Hapgood, Norman, 271 Holland, 60, 201
Harkavy, Alexander, 302 Holofernes, 234
Harrison, Benjamin, 264 Holy Fire, 239
Hashemites, 153, 155 Hopkins, Samuel, 291
Hashid reception camp, 176 Horton, Mrs. Wilmot, 244
Hasideanism, 9-10, 12-13 Horton, Walter M., 287, 289
Has'kalah, 253 Hosea, 34, 38
Hasmonean Age, 13, 52 Hosford, Franklin E., 268
Hatai, 153 Hourani, Cecil, 163*1
"Hatikva," 187 House, Edward M., 274
Hazzaz, Hayyim, 179 Hudson, Winthrop S., 287
Hebraism, 126-28 Hughes, Charles Evans, 276
Hebrew language, vii, x-xi, 6, 38, 40 ct Hull, Cordell, 277, 278
seq., 66, 126-27, 141, 166, 177, 183, Human rights, 135-36, 148-49, 151, 154
184, 190, 196-97, 225, 252 Hunt, Holman, 249
Hebrew National Opera, 190 Hussein, King of Jordan, 155
Hebrew University, 14, 180, 219, 226 Hymns, Christian, 243-44, 290-91, 292
Hcchalutz movement, 304-5 Hyrcanus, John, 77
Hefer, Valley of, 305 Hyrcanus II, 77
Hegel, G. W. F., 33 97 99-*<>4 105,
107 Ibn Saud, 277, 278, 279
Heidenheim, Abbey of, 233 Ibn Tibbon family, 128
Heikal Pasha, Mohamed Hussein, 161 Immigration, 134, 138, 149, 209, 312-
Heine, Heinrich, 224 I5> 317? 319-20; Yemenites, 176-84;
Helena, Empress, 234 see also Colonization
Heliopolis, 232 India, 92, 1 20, 123
Helios, 69 Indians, American, 252
Hellenism, see Greece Indonesia, 120
Heller, Maximilian, 269 Industrial Revolution, 116, 261
Henry II, King of England, 235 Information for Pilgrims, The, 236-37
Henry VTII, King of England, 236 IngersoII, Robert Green, 255
Heraclitus, 23 Inheritance, law of, 169, 170, 171, 173
Heretics, 71, 98 Internationalism, 1 1 1 -29
Herod the Great, 69, 77, 78 Iraq, 150-51, 152, 153, 154, 155, 156-
Herzl, Theodor, x, 387*, 134, 263, 265, 58, 159, 160-61, 162, 163, 164, 178,
267, 268, 301, 302 1 88, 210, 223, 276, 320
Hess, Moses, 264 Ireland, 273-74

Index 33*
Isaac, Rabbi, 90-91 Jerusalem, vii, 7, 13, 14, 60, 61, 69, 73,
Isaiah, 7, 17, 41, 50, 52, 53-54, 57, 74, 75, 123, 134, 137, 143, 179, 189,
128-29; Ascension of, 69 190, 193, 195, 212-13, 225, 226, 254,
Islam, 36-37, 59, 113, 171 257, 264, 300, 322; in literature, 231,
Israel:and America, common tradition 233, 235, 237-39, 244-45, 248-49
with, 310-22; American policy to- Jeshua ben Galgola, 41
ward, background of, 251-83; Ameri- Jewish Agency for Palestine, ix, xvi, 134
can settlement in, 298-309; in Anglo- Jewish Agricultural College, 303
Saxon tradition, 229-50; and Arab Jewish Legion, 305
states, see Arab states; art trends in, Jewish National Council, 148
194-203; character change and social Jewish National Fund, 306
experiment in, 204-13; Constitution, Jewish National Renaissance and Return
see Constitution; Dead Sea Scrolls, see Movement, 301-2
Dead Sea Scrolls; as democracy, 146- Jewish Theological Seminary, ix, x, 6,
51; future of, 214-26; and history, 92- 1 6, 45
107; music in, 6, 185-93; and nation- Jezreel, Valley of, 303, 306
alism and
internationalism, 111-29; Johanan ben Zakkai, Rabbi, 20, 75
Palestinian Judaism in ist century, 67- John the Baptist, St., 71-72
81; in Talmud, 82-91;
Palestinian Johnson, Edward, 284
prophetic and historical ful-
visi6n Johnson, J. Augustus, 258*2, 26271
fillment, 31-38; religion and state in, Jones, Howard Mumford, 229-50
! 65-75; Second and Third Common- Joppa, 73
wealth, 58-66; and Seminary Israel Jordan, 39, 150, 152, 153, 1 54-55* 156,
Institute, vii-xiii; spirit of, 18-28; as 158, 159, 162, 164, 217, 230
spiritual force, 3-17; Yemenite Jews Jordan River, 218, 233, 243-44
in, 176-84 Jordan Valley, 218
Israel, Michael Boaz, 258, 300 Josephus Flavius, 22, 43, 62, 72, 73,
Israel Labor party, 137 74-78, 243
Israel Philharmonic Orchestra, 185-91 Joshua, 3, 7, 26, 214, 215
Israels, Josef, 201, 267 Jubilee Year, 133
Italy, 65, 123 Jubilees, Book of, 46, 47-48, 49
Judah Ha-Levi, 224-25, 259
Ja'afar-Al-Askari, Pasha, 1 62 Judas, 234
Jacksonian Democracy, 255 Judges, Book of, 81
Jacob, 51 Judicial system, Israel, 136, 138, 139,
Jacobs, E., 256*1 143-44, I48-49. 169, 173-74
Jaeger, Werner, 967? Judith, 234; Book of, 46, 48
Jaffa, 1 86, 187-88, 215, 237, 248-49, Julius Saturninus, 86
258, 261 Justin, 71, 72
Jamal Pasha, 304
James, Henry, 265 Kahan, Rabbi Israel Meir (the Chofetz
Jannaway, Frank G., 266^ Chayyttn), u
Jastrow, Morris, Jr., 2520 Kant, Immanuel, ioo
Jaures, Jean, 221 Kapp, Ernest, 96/1
Jefferson, Thomas, 115, 254, 288, 318 Karaites, 44, 47
Jehovah's Witnesses, 296 Katims, Milton, 185-93
Jeremiah, 34, 35, 38, 51, 53 Kempe, Marjorie, 238-39, 243
Jericho, 43, 218 Khadduri, Majid, 163
33 2 Index
Khirbet Mird, 39 Lieberman, Max, 201
Khirbet Qumran, 39, 40, 42-44, 53, 55; Lieberman, Saul, 56, 70, 72, 80, 82-91
sect of, 45-49, 51 Lipshitz, Jacques, 201
Khouri, Bechara al-, 155 Literature, in Israel, 24-25, 128, 183, 197-
Kibbutzim, 185, 187, 189, 207, 212, 98; Hebrew, 225; Zionist thought in,
221, 222-23, 308-9 265, 266-67; Israel in Anglo-Saxon
King-Crane Commission, 275 tradition, 229-50
Kinglake, Alexander W., 248 Lithuania, 199
Kings, Second Book of, 132 Locke, John, 33
Kinneret, Lake, 303, 304* Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth, 254
Kishinev massacre, 264 Lorrain, Claude, 196
Knesset, 136, 137, 139-42, I43> I49> *5 Louis IX, King of France, 215
Knights Templar, 215 Lowell, James Russell, 267
Knox, Philander C., 272 Loyola, St. Ignatius of, 236
Kohn, Yehuda Leo, xi, 130-45 Luke, Gospel According to, 53
Ku Klux Klan, 276 Luther, Martin, g&&n
Kurdistan, 153 Lydda, 249
Kvutzot, 207 254
Lyell, Charles,
Lynch, William F., 257
Labor, Israel, 222
Labor Zionist Movement, 304, 308 Maccabean state, 3, 7-10, 13, 61, 77
Labour party, British, 216, 279-80 Maccabees, First Book of, 48
Lactantius, 85, 234 McDonald, James G., 277, 282
Lagerlof, Selrna, 258 McDonald, John, 256
Langer, William, 279 MacDonald, Ramsay, 221
Latin America, 122, 314 Mack, Julian, 306
Lavry, Marc, 193 Maghariyyah, 47
Law of Transition, 137 Magic, 69, 72, 73, 180
Lawrence, T. E., 265 Magic Carpet, Operation, 177, 178
Lazarus, Emma, 266-67 Magistrate's Courts, Israel, 143
League of Nations, 275, 277 Maher, AH, 154
Learsi, Rufus, 300/1 Maher Pasha, Ahmed, 161
Lebanon, 120, 122, 123, 217, 268; politi- Mahler, Raphael, 25972, 283*1
cal situation, 150, 152-53, 154, 155, Mahmoud Pasha, Mohammed, 156
156-57, 158, 159, 162, 163, 164 Mahmud, Nureddin, 161
Lecky, W. E. H., 266 Maimonides, 14, 66
Lee, Ann, 293 Majid Arslan, Emir, 157
Legislation, Israel, 140-41 Malachi, 7, 8, 10, 48
Leroy-Beaulieu, Anatole, 271 Malik, Charles, 118
Lesseps, Ferdinand de, 257 Maliki, Adnan, 162
Lessing, Theodor, gin Mamre, 72
Levin, Shemarya, 273 Manchester Guardian, 216
Levy, Clifton Harby, 270 Mandatory regime, 137, 142, 143, 148,
Lewis, Bernard, 163/1 150, 170, 178, 232, 251, 276, 281
Liberal ludaism, 172 Mannheim, Karl, 33
Liberal party, Israel, 174 Manual of Discipline, 46
Liberty League, 216 Manuel, Frank E., 258/1, 26472, 272*1,
Libya, 116, 120, 281/2, 300/2
Index 333
Marcus the Deacon, 84 Montesquieu, Baron de, 99
Maritain, Jacques, 106 Montgomery, James, 240
Marranos, 259 Moore, Thomas, 245
Marriage, Israel, law of, 169, 170, 171, Mormonism, 294-95
172, 173 Morocco, 1 8 8, 210, 262
Martin, Joseph W., 279 Morris, William, 221
Marx, Karl, 97, 103-4, 225 Morrison Plan, 281
Marxism, 33 Moryson, Fynes, 239
Masoretic Text, 41, 42, 54-57 Moscow, 212-13
Masterman, E. W. G., 268 Moses, 7, 10, 19, 26, 27, 32-33, 55, 195,
Mather, Cotton, 252 244, 254, 282; Assumption of, 69
Maundeville, Sir John de, 236 Moshavim, 306, 308, 309
Mayflower, 132 Moslem Brotherhood, 160, 161-62, 164
Mayhew, Jonathan, 317-18 Moslemism, 36-37, 44, 47, 62, 114-16,
Mead, Sidney E., 289 120, 121, 123, 153, 215, 310; and
Mecca, 115 religion in Israel, 169-71
Media, 73 Mount Hope, 258, 300-301
Medina, 115 Mount of Olives, 72
Mediterranean Sea, 39, 61-62, 116", 122- Mount Pisgah, 243
24 Mount Zion, 237
Meinicke, Friedrich, 93 Muckrakers, 270-71
Meir, Rabbi, 55-56 Mulder, William, 294, 295
Meistermann, Barnabas, 246 Munich, 277
Melville, Herman, 248-49 Munsterberg, Hugo, 221
Mendes, Henry Pereira, 269-70 Muscat, 221
Mesopotamia, 34, 73, 74 Music, Jewish, 6; in Israel, 185-93
Messianism, 36, 94, 132, 252, 299, 301 Music for Israel, Operation, 192
Mexico, 65 Myers, Peter D., 290

Micah, 50, 52, 53, 215
Michael, Archangel, 240 Naccache, Georges, 163
Middle Ages, 21, 22, 38, 42, 97, 230, Naguib, Mohammed, 154, 158, 160
234-39 Nahalal, 303
Middle East, see Arab states Nahas Pasha, 162
Midrash, 8, 21, 46, 49, 50, 51-52, 53, Nahum, Book of, 53
85, 87, 89 Nansen passports, 24
Military Council, Egypt, 158 Napoleon Bonaparte, 215, 232
Miller, Arnold W., 256 Napoleonic Wars, 259-60
Miller, Julian H., 2757* Narcuse, Herbert, 99/2
Miller, Perry, 287/1 Narkiss, Mordecai, 194-203
Miller, William, 294 Nasser, Gamal Abdel, 154, 160, 162
Milton, John, 167, 239-42 Nassir, Mohammed, 162
Minerals, 25 Natanya, 192
Minor, Clorinda S., 258, 300-301 Nathan, the Prophet, 34
Mishna, 8, 49 5*. 73> 87 National Liberation Movement, 164
Modigliani, Amedeo, 201 National Socialist party, Syria, 161
Mohammed AH Pasha, 232 Nationalism, 111-29, 198, 261
Mohilever, Samuel, 264 Nazareth, 151
Monotheism, 14, 33, 94, 171 Nazism, 4, nn, 60, 99**, 106, 107, 307
334 Index
Near East, 121, 122, 211-12, 232; see Paradise, 234

also Arab states Parliament, Israel, 133, 136, 137, 139-
Negev (Negeb), 25, 39, 185 42, 143, 149, 150
Nehemiah, 7, 63, 243 Parmenides, 23
Neoplatonism, 224 Parthia, 60, 73
Netter, Charles, 261 Parton, James, 261-62
Neuman, Abraham, 194 Partos, Odom, 193
Nevins, Allan, 214-26, 282 Party system, Israel, 133-341 144, 148,
New Conservatory of Music, Jerusalem, 150
190 Passover Haggadah, 8, 56
New England, 252, 284-87, 294-95, 317- Pater, Walter, 250
18 Patriarchs, the, 34
New Zealand, 221, 314 Paul, St., 68, 73, 95
Nicholas I, Czar of Russia, 257 Pennsylvania, 223
Nicholas of Damascus, 75 Pentateuch, 41, 52, 54
Niebuhr, Reinhold, 97** Perkins, William, 285
Nietzsche, Friedrich Wilhelm, 105 Persia, 7, 10-11, 12, 59, 62, 71, 79, 88,
Niles, Hezekiah, 257 IOI-2

Noah, 234 Persian Gulf, 121
Noah, Mordecai Manuel, 252, 253, 260, Petach Tikvah, 268

264, 265 Peter, St., 73
Noble, C, Bernard, 276** Peters, Madison C., 271-72
Nokrashy Pasha, Mahmoud Fahmy, 161 Phaenae, 86
Nordau, Max, 270 Pharaoh, 234
North American Relief Society, 260 Pharisaism, 9-10, 13, 14, 71, 72-81, 95,
Northrop, Filmer, 33
Nuri as-Said, 159 Philip, Apostle, 53
Philo, 9, 21, 22, 68, 78, 80, 224, 225
Ohel Shem, 185, 189, 190, 191 Philosophy, 9, 15, 20, 23-24, 99-101;
Ohio River, 244 and Palestinian Judaism, 78-81
Oil lands, 276, 278, 280 Phrygia, 73
Oliphant, Laurence, 265 Phylacteries, 41
Opera, Israel, 190 Picasso, Pablo, 198, 199
Oppenheim, Moritz, 200-201 Pilgrimages, 233-39
Orthodox Judaism, 45, 81, 172-74, 219 Pilgrims, 132, 216
Orwell, George, 93 Pinkas, David Zvi, 150
Osman Pasha, Amin, 161 Pinsker, Leo, 264
Ottoman Empire, 115, 153, 263 Pioneers, see Halutzim
Pissarro, Camille Jacob, 201
Paine, Thomas, 254 Pius XI, Pope, 106
Pakistan, 120 Plato, 23, 95&, 224
Palestine, sec Israel Pliny, 44
Palestine Economic Corporation, 307, 309 Poale Zion, 304
Palestine Exploration Fund, 266 Pococke, Richard, 242-43
Palestinian Talmud, 71, 82-91 Poland, 194, 273
Palos, 251 Politics, Israel, 130-45, 146-51, 210-12;
Pamphylia, 73 Arab states, see Arab states; and reli-
Pan-Arab Federation, 153, 155 gion, 167-75

Index 335
Polygamy, in Oriental Jewish commu- Rephairn, Valley of, 300
nities, 171-72 Restoration, 10-11, 31-38
Pompey, 59, 61 Revival hymns, 290-91
Pontus, 73 Revolution Command Council, Egypt,
Poriya, 304 154, 160
Poussin, Nicholas, 196 Rhodes, 236
Presbyterian Church, 172, 256, 273 Riad, 161
Prescott, H.,M., 236 Richard I, King of England, 215, 231,
Presidency, Israel, 136, 137, 139, 140, 235-36, 247
141-42, 169 Rishon le-Zion, 268
Pressler, Menahem, 192 Robespierre, Maximilien Francois de, 115
Pride's Purge, 99 Robinson, Edward, 248, 257
Progressive party, Israel, 137 Robinson, Jacob, 146-64
Prophets, 4, 7-8, 10-11, 16, 103, 252; Roman Catholic Church, 37, 46, 48,
and Restoration, 31-38 ggn, 170-71, 172, 219, 233, 254
Proportional representation, Israel, 137, Roman Empire, 9, 20, 22, 40-41, 49, 50,
140, 144, 149-50 58, 59, 60, 62, 64, 65, 9<>97> I0 3
Protestantism, 37, 46, 48, 170, 172, 214; and Palestinian Judaism, 68, 73,
253-54, 256, 286-87, 290-92, 295, 297 74-79, 82-91
Proto-Karaism, 47 Romania, 262
Proverbs, Book 53 of, Rome, 123
Provincialism, 126-28 Roosevelt, Franklin D., 12, 277-79
Provisional Council of State, Israel, 135, Roosevelt, Kermit, 280
136-37 Roosevelt, Theodore, 221, 264, 275
Provisional Government, Israel, 137 Rosenbach, A. S. W., 2527*
Prussia, loin Rosenberg, Adam, 302
Psalms, 8, 50, 103 Rosenstock, Eugen, 99
Pseudepigrapha, 44, 48-49, 69 Rosenzweig, Franz, 997?
Ptolemaic Empire, 8, 59, 71 "Rose-water** Revolution, 156
Purim, 52, 63 Rossetti, Dante Gabriel, 245-46
Puritans, 99, 252, 284-87, 299, 300 Rothschild family, 267
Pythagoras, 23 Rudolf, E. V. von, 99*1
Ruppin, Arthur, 271
Russell, Charles Taze, 267, 296
Quakers, 167
Russell, Michael, 246
Quebec, 223
Russia, 61, 65-66, 100, 217, 221, 232,
261, 262, 263, 264-67, 269, 302
Raanana, 304
Ramat Gan, 191 Sa'ada, Anton, 159
Rarnla, 248 Sabbatical Year, 133
Ranke, Leopold von, 96 Sabras, 64
Rauschning, Hermann, 107 Sacher, Harry, 221-22
Rebekah, 51 Sadducees, 13, 72, 75, 76, 81
Red Sea, 5 Saladin, 215, 231, 247
Reform Judaism, 124, 172, 266, 276 Salanter, Rabbi Israel, n
Reformation, 98, 285 Salome-Alexandra, 75, 76, 77
Rembrandt van Rijn, 198 Samson, 214
Renoir, Pierre Auguste, 199 Samuel, Book of, 54
336 Index
Samuel, Sir Herbert, 258 Sidky Pasha, Ismail, 156

Samuel bar Nahman, Rabbi, 67 Simeon bar Jehosadak, Rabbi, 67
Sanhedrin, 72 Simeon ben Gamaliel, Rabbi, 74, 77
Saracens, 231, 236, 239 Simeon ben Yohai, Rabbi, 179
Saudi Arabia, 123, 150-51, 152, 162, Simon, Marcel, 68
217, 276 Simon Magus, 72
Saul, 244 Simon the Maccabean, 59
Schappes, Morris U., 25672 Sinley, John H., g6n
Schatz, Boris, 195, 197, 201 Siqui, Bakr, 162
Schechter, Solomon, 6, 45, 47 Slavery, 152
Schodde, George H., 267 Smith, Joseph, 294
Schoenberg, Arnold, 189 Smith, Morton, 67-81
Scholarship in Israel, 24-25 Smith, Sir Sidney, 232
Scholem, Gershom, 36 Socialism, 212-13
School of Oriental Studies, Hebrew Uni- Socialist party, Israel, 174
versity, 1 80 Society for the Advancement of Judaism,
Schumann, Robert, 188 172

Scott, Sir Walter, 214, 231, 235, 245 Socrates, 13
247-48, 255 Sodom and Gomorrah, 239, 248

Scrap topara, 87 Sokolow,Nahum, 265*2, 267^
Scripture, see Bible Solomon, King, 231
Scrolls, see Dead Sea Scrolls Somahland, 116, 120
Seal, United States, 318 Song of Songs, 21
Second Aliyah, 142, 302-5, 308, 309 Sophocles, 1 66
Second Jewish Revolt, 36, 40 Soutine, Haim, 198, 199, 201
Seixas, Gershom Mendes, 259-60 Sovereignty, national, 59-60, 112-14, *i8,
Seleucid Empire, 9, 59, 70 124, 131, 167
Seminary Israel Institute, vii-xiii Soviet Embassy, Tel Aviv, 150
Sennacherib, 244 Soviet Union, see Russia
Sephardim, 137, 259 Spafford, Anna, 258

Sepphoris, 88 Spain, 200, 219, 224
Septuagint, 9, 48, 54-55, 57, 68 Spengler, Oswald, 105
Severi,85 Spinoza, Baruch, 9, 24, 225
Shahbandar, Abdul Rahman, 162, 163 Spirituality, and State of Israel, 3-17
Shakerism, 292-94, 295 Spring-Rice, Sir Cecil Arthur, 270
Shammai, 73, 80 Standard Oil Company, 272
Sharett, Moshe, 225 Stern, Karl, 219
Sharon Plain, 306 Stiles, Ezra, 252
Sharona, 304 Stimson, Henry L., 276
Shavei Zion, 302 Straus, Oscar S., 263-64
Shehab, Fouad, 159 Strauss, Leo, 9372
Shema, the, 49 Stravinsky, Igor, 189
Sheshbazzar, 3, 7, 8 Struck,Herman, 194
Shishakly, Adib, 154, 156, 161, 162 Suez Canal, 257, 266
Shishakly, Ghalib, 162 Sugrue, Thomas, 258^
Shofar,tii.t,176 Sukenik, Eleazar, 38
Sholom Aleichem, 202 Sulh, Riad As, 162
Sibylline Books, 22 Supreme Court, Israel, 136, 143, 149, 151
Index 337
Supreme Religious Council, 169, 170 Truman, Harry S., 251, 279-83
Swabey, Mane Collins, 92 Tulkharem, 61
Swedenborg, Emanuel, 256-57 Tunis, 260
Switzerland, 65, 220, 222, 262 Turkey, 98, 123, 153, 231, 232, 233,
Syria, 34, 52, 62, 64, 120, 122, 123, 236, 257, 260, 262-63, 273, 304-5
217, 229-30, 232, 234, 246; political Twain, Mark, 246
situation, 150, 152, 153, 154$, 160-62,
163, 164 Umari, Mustafa al-, 161
Szold, Benjamin, 269 Unitarianism, 254
Szold, Henrietta, 258 United Nations, 106, 112, 113, 120, 134,
280, 281-82, 319
Tabernacle, the, 195 United Religious Bloc, Israel, 137
Tabib, Mordekhai, 179-80 United States, 12, 27-28, 35, 61, 65-66,
Taft, Robert A., 280 100, 114, 122, 130, 131-32, 144, 167,
Taft, William Howard, 272, 273 177, 202, 2 1 6, 22 1 ; common tradition
Talmud, 21, 73, 74, 254; Babylonian, with Israel, 310-22; Jewish Theologi-
53> 56* 89, 90, 176; Palestinian, 71, cal Seminary, ix, x, 6, 16, 45; litera-
82-91 ture, and Israel, 230-31,
244, 233,
Tarsus, 73 246, 247, 248-50; policy toward Israel,
Teacher of Righteousness, 50 background of, 251-83; Revolutionary
Tel Aviv, 143, 150, 185-86, 189-91, 215, War, 10572, 119, 259, 311$, 319;
225, 300, 306 Seminary Israel Institute, vii-xiii; set-
Temple, the, 13, 22, 56, 69, 81, 199, 200; tlement in Israel, 298-309; Zion in
of Leontopolis, 63 Christian movements, 284-97
Tetragrammaton, 53 United States Information Service, 162
Thales, 23 Uriscinus, 83
Theophrastus, 23
Third Ally ah, 305 Vaad Leumi, 133, 142
Thomas, Jacques, 71 Van Buren, Martin, 262
Thoreau, Henry David, 221 Van Oettingen, Hendla Yochanan, 283
Thrace, 87 Vance, Zebulon B., 253-54
Thucydides, 58-59, 95, 96 Veblen, Thorstein, 272
Thutmose III, 62 Venice, 237
Tiberias, 87, 185 Versailles Conference, 274-75
Tobit, Book of, 46, 48 Versailles Treaty, 276
Tocqueville, Alexis de, 316 Vespasian, 43, 74, 75, 235
Torah, 4, 6, 7, 12-13, 14, 16, 32, 33, 41, Vico, Giovanni Battista, 99, too
46, 56, 89, 94 Vienna, 225
Torkington, Richard, 237-38, 243 Vivaldi, Antonio, 189
Tosefta, 49, 73, 87 Vologeses, 60
Totalitarianism, 130, 147
Touro, Judah, 260 Wadi Murabba'at, 39, 40-42, 53, 56
Toynbee, Arnold, I05&, 231 Wadi-Urtash, 258
Trachonitis, 86 Wafd party, Egypt, 157
Trajan, 64 Wagner, Robert, 280
Transjordan, 70, 86, 163 Wallace, Edward S., 264
Treves, Sir Frederick, 215 Wallace, Lew, 247, 263
Tribunals, Israel, 144 War of Liberation, Israel, 189, 198, 214
338 Index
Warsaw Ghetto, n Yavneh, 20

Watts, Isaac, 243 Yemen, 151, 152, 1 88, 223, 320; Jews
in Israel, 176-84, 220
Weaver, Raymond, 248
Weber, Alfred, io5&# Yiddish language, 65, 198
Weil, Simone, 219 Yotfe, Ehezer, 303
Weissenberg, Sigi, 192 Yohanan, Rabbi, 90

Wdzmann, Chaim, xi, 4> 38? 60, 137* Young, Brigham, 294
142, 222, 306 Yugoslavia, 221
Welles, Sumner, 277
Wesley, John and Charles, 243
"Zadokite Work," 45~47 5<>
Wey, William, 237
White, Arnold, 271 Zaim, Husni, 161, 162
Wilamowitz-MoellendorfiE, Ulrich von, Zangwill, Israel, 270
g6n Zealots, 73, 76
Wilderness of Judah, 39 Zechariah, 7, 8
Williams, Roger, 252 Ze'ira, Rabbi, 90
Willibald, St., 233, 236 Zephaniah, 50
Willkie, Wendell, 159 Zerubbabel, 7, n, 13* ^3
Wilson, Woodrow, 251, 273-76 Zimpel, Charles F., 258
and American Christian move-
Winthrop, John, 285, 288 Zion,
Wisdom of Ben Sira, 46, 48, 71 ments, 284-97
Wise, Stephen S., 274 Zion City, III, 296
Wolfe, Bertram, 93 Zion Watch Tower Society, 296
Wolfson, Harry, 9, 68, 80, 81 Zionist Congress, 134, 148
Woodbine Pioneer Group, 303, 309 Zionist Movement, xvi, xvii, 4, 6, 37-
World War I, 178, 196, 273-75* 304-5 38, 62-63, 66, 124-25, 134, 148,
World War II, 60, 277-78 172, 201, 258, 265-83, 301, 302,
Wright, Quiacy, 1637* 36-9

Zionist Youth Movement, 308
Zionitic Brotherhood, 292
Yadin, Yigael, 38
Yahya Hamid ad-Din, Imam, 152 ZOA House, Tel Aviv, 190-91
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956.9^ D26i .

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HARPER & BROTHERS

Copyright, 1956, by The Jewish Theological Seminary

America. Printed in the United States of America. All

Second Printing, May 1956

Library of Congress catalog card number: 55-12408

ROSE L. HALPRIN Dedicatory Preface to Hayim

Part L The Role of Israel in the Modern World

1. Louis FINKELSTEIN The State of Israel as a Spiritual

Part II. What History Teaches

1. WILLIAM F. ALBRIGHT Israel Prophetic Vision and Histori-

3. SALO W. BARON Second and Third Commonwealth:

4. MORTON SMITH Palestinian Judaism in the First

5. SAUL LIEBERMAN Jewish Life in Eretz Yisrael as

6. CARL J. FRIEDRICH Israel and the End of History 92

Part 111. The New State

1. ABBA EBAN Nationalism and Internationalism in

3. JACOB ROBINSON A Democracy in an Autocratic World 146

4 HAYIM GREENBERG Religion and the State in Israel 165

5. S. D. GOITEIN The Yemenite Jews in the Israel

6. MILTON KATIMS Music-Making in Israel 185

7. MORDECAI NARKISS Jewish and Universal Trends in Con-

9. ALLAN NEVINS The Future of Israel 214

Part IV. America and Israel

1. HOWARD MUMFORD JONES The Land of Israel in the Anglo-

3. ROBERT T. HANDY Zion in American Christian

4. ALEXANDER BEIN American Settlement in Israel 298

5. ABBA EBAN United States and Israel: Elements of

Contributors to "Israel: Its Role in Civilization"

tory of the Jewish people. To be sure, this commonwealth has been

mitment to a role as bridgehead between Orient and Occident, antiq-

serves today, with increasing intensity, as the spiritual and cultural

widely disparate cultures are blending in the new Israeli climate,

A school of thought devoted to exploring and evaluating the social

accept the aspiration of the state itself to be judged by the standard

community, it could benefit from the perspective of distance and

clearly the emergent character of Israel.

Without attempting to attribute to anyone else the responsibility

pattern of thought, as I recall it, which ran through the conversations

mankind. Dr. Finkelstein referred to the miracle we have witnessed

spoke of the "drama of redemption which is unfolding in Israel."

tion whereby the wider American public, and in particular the

dynamics of the social process and interpret these high moments

activity were at the Seminary, in the heart

by the Jewish Agency for Palestine and an invited group of institu-

The purpose of the Seminary Israel Institute is to strengthen the spirit-

opinion; and while an attempt was made to adopt a uniform stylistic

scheme, the editor regarded it as his primary responsibility to present

*A portion of the address delivered in 1953 appeared in The American Zionist,

cialconvocation held in Jerusalem in 1952, under the auspices of the

been under the impress o that noble spirit, Hayim Greenberg, to

redemption of every human being; his everlasting prayer, with the

In thinking of Hayim Greenberg, I remember, as one so often