While
John Kerry admirably shuttles around like the Energizer Bunny in search of Middle
East peace, is there anything new to say about the intractable tension between
Israelis on the one hand and predominantly Muslim peoples, especially the Palestinians,
on the other?
One
layer of the unspoken is Israel’s implicit status as a nuclear power. Mr. Netanyahu and Mr. Obama draw red
lines in the sand concerning the threat of Iranian nukes, but say little about the
only viable long-term solution: a negotiated and verified nuclear-free zone in
the Eastern Mediterranean—even better, a planet-wide nuclear-free zone. Nuclear
war anywhere on earth has become more unthinkable as it has become more
possible.
Also
rarely spoken—lest howls of anti-Semitism ensue—is an uncomfortable
question: why do we frown upon the
lack of separation of church and state in many Muslim countries, while Israel
gets a pass in privileging a particular constellation of religion and
ethnicity?
The
historical rationale for the birth of the Jewish state could not be more reasonable.
In the context of Jewish history over thousands of years climaxing in the
Holocaust, no one could argue with Jewish fears of extinction and their need
for a secure homeland.
Though
all parties in the region ought to know from long experience how futile war, terror,
obstruction, and discriminatory harshness are as tools to suppress the
universal impulse toward justice, each keeps trying one or another unworkable
method, making the success of Mr. Kerry’s quixotic mission all the more
crucial.
The
present Israeli government derives its identity in large measure from fear of
what it is against, and so it has encouraged injustices like the settlements
that it would never tolerate were it a victim of similar treatment.
Obviously
this is not to say that the anti-Semites of the Arab world are innocent. And it is unfair to compare the
civil rights Israel has afforded non-Jews with the civil rights much of the
Muslim world affords women and non-believers. Israel does not order the
execution of those who abandon Judaism. However much it may wish to be
even-handed, it sees its own Muslim population growing. If this population
enjoyed full citizenship Israeli could eventually become a de facto Muslim
state. So it waters down Muslim civil rights to preserve its identity.
As
we express our hope that Arab countries (and even the U.S. itself) evolve
toward a more inclusive and tolerant politics, is it worth asking if the maintenance of
Israel as a Jewish state has become counter-productive to its own long-term
security? It is not that Zionism is racism, in the crude Arab formulation, but
that Zionism has been transcended by the notion of a state relatively untethered
to any one religion.
If
the identity of Israel were re-established on the basis of equal rights for all
ethnicities, ancient fears might begin to dissolve from within. The corrosive
“us-and-them” dynamic could be undermined in a way that left Jews safer—just as
Jews, while a minority in the United States, are surely as safe there, if not
more so, as they are in Israel.
For
Israel to become a fully secular state, the international community would have
to guarantee the security of Jews, whether inside or outside Israel, a task that
for understandable reasons Israel has always zealously reserved for itself. Abdication
of self-determined security is, to say the least, unlikely. Tragically however,
maintaining a Jewish state will increasingly tie its citizens in knots as they
are forced to choose between Jewish identity and full democracy.
Jews
and Palestinians for the most part do not know each other as people, and the
predictable theatrics of their leaders do nothing to help reconciliation. The
entry point into a shared future beyond war is the face-to-face engagement of
ordinary citizens at the heart level. It is people moving one by one from
unfamiliarity, ignorance, and fear, toward familiarity, empathy, and enough
trust to allow the heart to message the brain that it's safe to get creative
together.
The
moral basis of the secular state, the tolerance and compassion that flows from
the acknowledgement of universal rights, is ironically a major premise of the
Jewish ethical tradition. An unbeliever once asked Rabbi Hillel if he could sum
up the Torah while standing on one foot. The simple answer was “What is hateful
to yourself, do not to your fellow man. That is the whole of the Torah and the
rest is but commentary.”
One
of the many gifts world civilization owes the Jews is this confidence in an
ethical universality that transcends specific sects and ethnicities. If I
identify as a Jew but also as citizen of secular democracy, I am better able to
interact with Palestinians according to our common identity as humans. Finding
ourselves in this shared human context, we will stand a measurably better
chance of resolving our differences. To the extent that Jews allow themselves
that larger identification with the “other,” they may not only come closer to
fulfilling the ethical promise of their heritage, but also may find the
security that has eluded them since the founding of the Jewish state. How
poignant that after thousands of years of their culture contributing so much to
the world, this idea should still feel so risky.
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