Sagiv makes a very salient point, however, when he says that the educational system has a central role to play in the development of a more responsible, law-abiding society. However, this can succeed only if a more general educational syllabus is applied, one that includes some rudimentary understanding of and instruction in Jewish religious values. Under the present circumstances, this is impossible, as the ideological divide between secular Zionists and moderate religious Zionists is so wide that any attempt to introduce a system of religious-based values runs into a brick wall. Secular education ministers have become so anti-religious that they prefer a system that is value-neutral. Zionism in isolation, however, leads to “Canaanism,” as it is not a broad-based, value-driven ideology. This is what Sagiv is in effect implying when he says that Zionism must push beyond its “half-century-old arrested adolescence.”

Furthermore, continued division is built into the educational system, as parents must choose in which camp—religious or secular—they wish to educate their children, so little cross-fertilization of values or beliefs is possible. After high school, the army can help, but more often than not it is a case of too little too late.

The solution to the problem is, therefore, far more complex than Sagiv proposes. Broad educational reform is commendable, but I fear that the situation has deteriorated to such an extent that we don’t have the luxury of waiting a generation for it to have any effect.

The most important issue that should be tackled, then, is electoral reform, as its impact would be more immediate and may lead to the breakdown of the insular cliques mentioned above. This could lead to greater integration, acceptance of general social values, and an increased respect for the law.

Allan Leibler
Jerusalem

 

Assaf Sagiv Responds:

My thanks to Anita Shapira, Allan Leibler, and Jonathan Yudelman (whose letter appeared in the last issue) for their thought-provoking comments. For the most part, I agree with their opinions. I have no doubt Shapira is correct in noting that the Eastern European tradition of “outsmarting” the authorities and Israel’s identity as a heterogeneous immigrant nation are viable alternative explanations for the corruption plaguing this country. Leibler is also justified in pointing an accusing finger at the Israeli system of proportional representation (an issue that is discussed at length in Amotz Asa-El’s article “Electoral Complex,” published in Azure 31, Winter 2008). And Yudelman accurately criticizes the Israeli bureaucracy, which can make the life of the average citizen unbearable, and pushes—indeed, practically forces—him to cut corners and skirt the letter of the law.

All of my critics believe that I am unjustifiably slandering Zionism and—in these post-ideological times—simply piling another heap of imaginary “faults” onto its back. But I am a Zionist, and nothing Zionist is alien to me. If I have criticized the heritage our nation’s founders have left us, it is not because I wish to engage in fashionable self-accusation, but rather because certain failings in that heritage have metastasized to the point that we can no longer safely ignore them. 

Israel is not rotten to the core, and there are certainly other countries that are far more corrupt—even in the civilized and enlightened West. As Shapira points out quite rightly, wherever a legal framework exists, there will also be violation of the law. Even the most legalistic societies—such as one based on halacha—will suffer from one kind of criminality or another. I have never claimed, nor have I tried to give the impression, that the Jewish state is a country populated by criminals and run by gangsters. On the contrary, Israel can take some pride in its rule of law and widespread criticism of corruption and incompetence.

Yet something is rotten in Israeli society, and I believe that Zionism bears partial—though not sole—responsibility for it. The reason is that the Zionist movement was not content with operating outside and in opposition to the law when it was necessary to do so—under the British Mandate, for instance—but also cultivated an ethos that glorified contempt for regulations and rules in general. As I have stated in my article, this was, to some extent, a reaction against the extreme legalism of traditional Jewish society, which some of the early Zionists chose to reject. Of course, not everyone accepted this attitude. Immigrants from Central Europe (“Yekes”), and the liberal right headed by Menachem Begin had a very positive opinion of the law and the legal system. However, the mainstream of the Yishuv and, later, the State of Israel, developed a subculture of national activism that saw the law as at best a burden, and at worst an obstacle to be overcome. This activism has been gradually pushed out of the Israeli public sphere—it still exists on the margins, in a less statist form—but the attitude that always accompanied it continues to resonate with us today. Even though lawbreakers appear, as Shapira says, in every society, in Israel there are certain circumstances in which they become heroes, and even popular leaders.

Clearly, the founders of the Zionist movement and the State of Israel were not, generally speaking, corrupt or hedonistic. Their private lives were far indeed from the ostentatious profligacy that characterizes those who have taken their place today. But their suspicion, if not their hostility, toward various forms of legalism has allowed what could have been a superb constitutional tradition to lie fallow. (The Supreme Court’s attempts to rectify this over the course of several decades have been far from successful.) Today, the weeds that have grown in this untended field have begun to suffocate a substantial part of the public domain. It is not enough to plow them, or even to pull them out by the roots; this land must be re-seeded.

 

 

To the Editors:

I fully sympathize with the contentions that Marla Braverman makes regarding the type of feminist activity needed in our contemporary world (“Not Our Mothers’ Feminism,” Azure 34, Autumn 2008). However, I am rather disappointed by two matters that are related to the piece: carelessness in terms of the information contained within it, and unfounded innuendos. Such things certainly do not match the high level that Azure has maintained for some years now. Please allow me to outline the two points.

First, I was surprised at the careless manner in which Braverman conveyed information in the piece. I am not a sociology professor but an anthropologist. Moreover, I am part of the department of sociology and anthropology and not the sociology department. Readers may justifiably reason that these are but relatively unimportant points. However, when Braverman characterizes me as an outspoken critic of Israel’s ultra-militarized culture, I find that I am at a loss for words. If anything, the only ones to characterize me in this manner are some rather extreme right-wing Jewish-American pundits (from whom Braverman may have gathered at least part of her information). Not only have I served on a number of committees established by the Israel Defense Forces (including ones appointed by former Shabak head Ami Ayalon and former IDF chief of staff Dan Halutz), but I appear regularly in the media in order to supply a balanced view of the place of the military in contemporary Israel. I do realize that she uses my case as a mere rhetorical device to launch into her important argument, but such sloppiness was not expected from Azure.

Second, after an obligatory nod to “alleged” crimes that I seemed to have committed, Braverman simply goes on to make a number of unsubstantiated innuendos such as that I am the actual perpetrator of offenses and that my students—the victims—had to endure years of harassment in silence. A reading of Israeli newspapers (available in the English language) and blogs would have revealed to Braverman that early on the recommendation of the police was to drop my case. Moreover, since the end of August I am under no restrictions imposed by either the police or the Hebrew University. Not only am I back at the university, but I have actually met and supervised numerous students (including, of course, women). Against the background of the carelessness of Braverman’s reporting, her innuendos do much harm not only to myself but to my students (since any one of them can be understood as succeeding only as a victim of my advances and not on the basis of her achievements). I have, indeed, been charged, indicted, tried, and sentenced in the court of public opinion, and it seems that Braverman has perhaps thoughtlessly reproduced this process.

To reiterate, I fully support the argument that Braverman puts forward in her important and timely editorial. However, I would have expected her to refer to my case in a different manner.

Eyal Ben-Ari
The Hebrew University of Jerusalem

 

To the Editors:

In her editorial “Not Our Mother’s Feminism,” Marla Braverman rehashes several familiar anti-feminist sentiments that have been forever popular with women who reject feminism’s fundamental commandments: empathy (including with other women) and solidarity among women. Braverman’s simplistic argument seems to be that if women “just do it,” all their problems will go away. All they need to do is say “no” when they don’t want sex, and then complain to the authorities if sex is imposed on them despite their clear objection to it. If they simply follow this advice, they will express their agency, refuse to be victimized, and solve their problems.

Braverman seems to have conveniently forgotten how difficult it is for a woman to say “no” to her supervising professor, for example, who may not respond graciously to such rejection. He may stop writing her reference and recommendation letters, withdraw his support in committees, and not go out of his way to get her scholarships. As those of us who care about people and look reality in the eye know, such conduct is enough to devastate a Ph.D. student’s career. The professor may go further and suddenly decide that despite previous distinction, the female student is no longer good enough and drop her altogether, suggesting to his colleagues that she is not worth their effort and that they shouldn’t waste time on her. This, by the way, is exactly what is claimed by more than one of Ben-Ari’s doctoral students: that merely ignoring his sexual hints cost them his supervision and their doctoral status in his department. Based on their conversations with other professors, they are convinced that had they complained, his colleagues on the committee would have seen no merit in the accusations, and found him innocent. This systematic power structure, which has not changed, is what radical feminism has been trying to expose, and what Braverman is eager not to see.