An imperative to maintain hope

Editorial

Two very different speakers came to Vancouver in recent weeks, each with a very different message.

On Nov. 15, the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre, with the Jewish Community Centre of Greater Vancouver, hosted U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum historian Dr. William F. Meinecke on the topic Law, Justice and the Holocaust: How the Courts Failed Germany. He covered a range of issues that, in sum, made it seem difficult, to say the least, to prevent genocide. The Nazis – and other governments of other countries, before and after them – used the legal system and a variety of police forces to carry out their drive for complete dominion over a world without Jews, Jehovah’s Witnesses, Roma, homosexuals, the infirm and anyone opposed to their ideology.

The scope of the Holocaust was unbelievable, and its enormity no doubt contributed to its longevity. It is easy to understand how disbelief, fear and hopelessness combined to prevent most people from resisting in large measure, given the existential risks for a person, his/her family, friends or fellow townspeople of such resistance. If asked the question of what we would/could do now in the face of impending genocide or mass murder as a government policy – with examples such as Stalin’s Russia, Mao’s China, Cambodia, Yugoslavia, Rwanda, Sudan and others – it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that we wouldn’t do much or, more kindly, we wouldn’t be able to do much to prevent it once it had already begun to unfold. Even in countries with a long-held tradition of democracy and jurisprudence, such as the United States, there have been racist and oppressive government policies – Meinecke gave the Jim Crow South as an example. In Canada, among other examples, of direct relevance to the Jewish community is how our borders were closed to Jews attempting to flee the Holocaust.

Yet the ultimate message of Meinecke’s talk was hopeful: the only safeguard for the protection of human rights is the eternal vigilance of individual citizens. Questionable laws and policies must be debated and written about, brought into and kept in the public sphere. This is something we must do at the least, even if it seems hopeless that change will be effected, because to do nothing leaves us at the mercy of others.

Contrast this with the mixed messages delivered by author and analyst Dr. Daniel Gordis at the Vancouver Hillel annual gala on Nov. 18. He spoke briefly at the dinner portion of the evening about the reignited conflict between Israel and the Palestinians, which began when Hamas increased manifold its rocket attacks against Israel. He stated uncategorically that the conflict would not be resolved in 100, even 200 years, albeit that Israel would survive. His view was that there was nothing anyone in that room – or anywhere else for that matter – could do to resolve the situation. In the past, he said, there was a belief that Israel could win the war(s) waged against it by its neighbors, but that this is no longer the case.

In his scheduled speech, later that same evening, Gordis reiterated this idea. As well, he focused on the importance of Israel to the Jewish people and the reality that younger Jews will not be pushed into loving or supporting Israel out of fear or guilt. Instead, Gordis said, they must be positively engaged through an understanding and appreciation of the particularism of Judaism, and that Judaism’s celebration of and respect for difference, is what makes Judaism – and hence, a Jewish state – special and desirable.

This idea of positive engagement is tremendous and, indeed, critical to Jewish survival, spiritually, emotionally and demographically – in Israel, as well as in the Diaspora. But what does this mean practically? What ideals make us proud to be Jewish, ie. what types of specifically Jewish values are we wanting to pass on to the next generation?

Judaism is overwhelmingly concerned with this life and with action over intent. Tikkun olam is one of the first principles that comes to mind, making the world a better place simply because that is what we Jews are supposed to do; for the religious, the doing of mitzvot will prepare the world for Mashiach. Either way, it’s action in this life with the purpose – or hope – of improving life in the world. And, it’s a love of life.

Gordis rightfully criticized our obsession with what our enemies are doing. But, while he paid lip service to the need for concern with how we relate to one another, how we care for those less fortunate and how we sustain our Jewish lives, he simultaneously erased the hope that drives such actions. Not only did he absolve us from responsibility for resolving the conflict – no matter what we do, it won’t end in our lifetime, or that of our children – but he also noted that, in large part because of the conflict, Binyamin Netanyahu will win the next election. Elections in Israel, said Gordis, are always decided by foreign policy; domestic politics, the social and economic development of civil society, are not top priorities.

Of course, an existential threat should take precedence over most everything, but is this current conflict with Hamas a real threat to Israel’s survival? According to Gordis (and others), it is not, nor will be the inevitable (according to Gordis) future skirmishes; only a nuclear Iran represents an existential threat at this point. With that said, even in that instance, it is important to clarify that for which we are fighting.

There remains a persistent need to restate exactly the reasons for which it is necessary to go to war, even when it is justified, and to state clearly why the loss of life is necessary. The case for Israel’s right to exist is not one that we should feel compelled to make anymore – that right is immutable – but the case for military action, like the case for taking away individual rights or other wartime measures, must always be made – that is what separates a democracy from a dictatorship.

At its core, we are fighting for the Jewish people and all that we have offered, and will continue to offer, the world, from technological, scientific and medical advances to environmentally and socially progressive ideas, the drive to make the world a better place. That world includes the kinds of lives we live within in Israel and here in the Diaspora. Do we not aspire for Canada and Israel to both be lights unto the nations, exemplifying how humanity at its best operates, how it cares for the rich and poor, the healthy and the ill, the happy and the sad – for all of its people, regardless of gender, color, creed or sexual orientation? This mission requires a strong infrastructure, effective social programs, an efficient health-care system, etc. These are all domestic issues that are, in the end, that for which we are fighting. If we continually relegate these aspects to the back burner, there will be only rubble to come home to after the fight is over. This should not be enough for us.

If the message is that Israel can’t hope to have peace in 100 or 200 years, what happens to civil society in the interim? What happens to the core issues, the ones that help us to raise our children, that allow the richness of Jewish scholarship and culture and innovation to survive and thrive? What advancement is it in 200 years that will “solve” the conflict that won’t solve it now? More killing? New technology? Another world war?

The only thing we have is the hope that things will be better for the next generations. If there is no hope, why have children? Why work to build something better for ourselves, our children and our children’s children? Why build the infrastructure of our Jewish lives? Our only hope of engaging our young people – of harnessing their energy, their passion and creativity – is to ensure that there is, at the very least, hope for the future. Take away hope and you guarantee despair. Even in the darkest hour, hope is paramount.

In the case of the Holocaust, enough brave, perhaps naive, souls were hopeful, believing that it could end; and, eventually, after murders of tragic proportions, it did end. The Nazi vision of the world lost, and so too, we believe, will that of the terrorists. Even if the world has not lived up to the promise of “Never again,” it is incumbent upon us to keep trying, to do our utmost to solve the unsolvable, to preserve life.

Ironically, Gordis related a personal story of the emotional experience he had when attending an opera performance at the foot of Masada. Before the performance began, the lights went out for a moment, and the audience found itself in pitch-blackness. Suddenly, the mountain came alight and the orchestra began playing. The setting and the significance of what happened 2,000 years ago was brought into the present, Gordis said, and he found it hard to sing with such a lump in his throat. What did he and the 7,000-strong audience sing? Hatikvah, of course – The Hope.

^TOP