Four other questions

Editorial

It is the season of the Four Questions, when the youngest among us learn through symbolism of our people’s ancient escape from bondage. As we enjoy the celebration, perhaps we should, as a people, commit to asking more questions throughout the year and not just on this night, which is different from all other nights.

Consider as an example: this newspaper has received angry letters and e-mails for exploring the ideas of Rabbi Michael Lerner, who is perceived by some as a threat to Israel. And yet, we received no similar outrage from a story about David Horowitz, whose opinions, on a range of issues, should have offended as many people – if not more – as those of Lerner. Both stories were presented in a similar manner, allowing the individual’s ideas to be assessed by the reader. Fair readers could do well to question how their perceptions of a speaker’s faults in one area may blind us to their attributes in another, and vice versa. Moreover, the blotting out of ideas with which we disagree is a fundamentally anti-intellectual and – dare we say – un-Jewish approach. We might ask ourselves: Why in some contexts do we welcome challenging ideas, but in others we seek to obliterate them?

Consider also: this paper is a magnet for letters from people who want readers to know that everything Israel does as a country is suspect and untrustworthy because a Jewish state is, in their view, inherently racist and exclusive. Yet this perception of Israel as a state, it seems, extends in a perverse way to Israelis as a people, because these same correspondents can seem to find no credibility in any individual Israeli who might promote peaceful coexistence because, well, as an Israeli, even the well-intentioned individual is a part of the system of privilege and cannot possibly appreciate the plight of the Palestinian people and so deserves to be subjected to boycotts, divestment, sanctioning. The positions seem contradictory – hypocritical – given that the people who proclaim Israel as a racist state apply blanket perceptions to Israelis as a people. Might these letter-writers, among them Jews and non-Jews, not ask themselves why on other topics they proclaim race-blindness, but on this topic they betray their values?

Consider a further example: Peter Beinart’s new book The Crisis of Zionism promotes what he calls “Zionist BDS” – the combination of boycotts against products from Jewish settlements in the West Bank with increased support for products from within Israel proper. The response has been electric, with many critics condemning his main concept (BDS) in a frenzied panic and supporters heralding him a hero and his ideas novel. Yet, most of Beinart’s book covers well-trammeled ground, nothing new, and his BDS scheme is so impractical – as Daniel Gordis notes – that it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to find holes in the case. For example, whether you agree/disagree with the need to “delegitimize Israel’s occupation while legitimizing Israel itself,” as Beinart writes, how would boycotting West Bank products and increasing support for Israeli-made goods put pressure on Israel? We might ask ourselves: Why on other issues do we rationally analyze arguments to determine whether they have merit, but on this topic we viscerally react (angrily or proudly) instead of thinking?

There is undoubtedly one topic in the Jewish world today that overshadows all else: the potential for the leaders of Iran to fulfil their promise to wipe Israel from the map. This is no theoretical matter. But neither is it a civilizational confrontation. The people of Iran are under the control of theocrats from which many, if not most, would like to break free. If there is any possibility of finding common cause with the people of Iran against their despotic leaders, why is this not our priority? Why is it that, in other situations we seek mutual understanding and peace, but, on this topic, our first resort is to weaponry?

Think of our own goals as individuals and as people – peace for Israel, the end of antisemitism, a better world – and consider whether these objectives will best be reached by being combative, uncompromising and uncompassionate – yelling at the top of our lungs that we should kill before being killed – or, in contrast, being self-righteous and naive – yelling at the top of our lungs that the terrorist with the bomb strapped to his chest really just wants our love? Neither of these extreme positions is a realistic way to achieve our objectives.

Perhaps, if we cannot be bothered to ask ourselves four questions year-round, we might ask ourselves just one: Why?

If we read or hear something that makes us truly angry, pause and ask why. If we read or hear something with which we profoundly agree, also pause and ask why.

This may be an exercise through which we put ourselves in the position of a debater, who must know their opponents’ views as well as their own, and, in so doing, come to understand ourselves better.

Perhaps by asking “why” we can come closer to understanding that life and humanity is complex, that we all have biases, that we all are vulnerable and often do irrational things out of fear, hate or love. By understanding that others are motivated by the same impulses, perhaps we will move closer to our goal of tikkun olam.

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