Message from Barak

Peace Negotiations

Camp Galil Goes to Camp David

A Koestlerian View of Jerusalem-As-Capital

The Pope in Jerusalem

Refashioning the U.S. Military Draft

Blighted Passover Days and Blood Libels

International Holocaust Era Insurance Commission

Personal Losses Yield Universal Messages

A Major Text for "Yiddish-Lit"

Twilight Years of Rabbi Jacob Joseph

Labor Zionists, Palestinian Arabs Hold "Seminar For Peace"

Things I have learned by asking questions in Israel

Jeffry Mallow elected National LZA President

Book Review

Poetry



 
   

Jewish
Frontier

Vol. LXVII, No. 1 (639)
JANUARY - AUGUST 2000



A Koestlerian View Of
Jerusalem-As-Capital

By Harold Ticktin

The clash of views concerning the relocation of America's embassy in Israel to Jerusalem bears a striking resemblance to one of Arthur Koestler's most memorable scenes from his magnum opus - "Darkness at Noon." As any literate Twentieth Century reader knows "Darkness at Noon" scans the tension between ideology and pragmatic need, a tension which must always see the former give a way to the latter. It is the same today with those who advocate American recognition of Jerusalem as Israel's capital as a matter of Zionist ideology versus the current Israeli government's pragmatic view that ideology must wait table on practical politics (read sejric and the PA).

Koestler's fictional Rubashov — an amalgam of old Bolsheviks liquidated by Stalin in the purge trials of the 30's — closely resembles Nicolai Bukharin, once a favorite of Lenin, who by 1938 waited only, as Trotsky put it, for Stalin to take his blood. As Rubashov awaits his fate in prison, he reviews his life, particularly the decisions he was obliged to make when "necessity" (that is the perceived needs of the "home of the revolution") prodded ideology out of the path of "progress."

Almost sixty years after its publication "Darkness at Noon" still impresses in describing the encounter of Rubashov with Little Loewy, the head of the Communist dock workers in a Belgian port, where Rubashov has been sent to "explain" why the boycott against Nazi Germany will be breached by Communist workers on the dock who have resolutely refused to unload any ships either bound for or coming from Hitler's Germany. It is Rubashov's task to explain that "The Comrades Over There" must know what they are doing. Rubashov's last words to the skeptical true believers in the Revolution who must act contrary to their convictions are:

"Comrade, the interests of our industrial development Over There come before everything else. Sentimentality does not get us any further. Think that over."

That the cargo which the dock hands were being commanded to unload, despite the highly touted boycott of the Left, "consisted of certain rare minerals and was destined for the war industry" of Germany was not relevant "Over There." "Romantic gestures of that sort would only hamper the development of industry Over There..."

The ideology of the "Revolution" which saw Fascism as its bitterest enemy, gives way to the need of the moment as perceived by those in charge "over there." Rubashov, contemplating his last days, regrets such decisions and never does work out a satisfactory explanation (History and its guide, The Party tail him) to explain the bitter paradox of the Homeland of the Revolution doing exactly the opposite of what it is committed to do.

Is there an application of this parable to the Jerusalem controversy? Former Premier Yitzhak Shamir, a close student of the Russian Revolution, was fond of comparing Israel's relationship to the Diaspora with the Comintern's relation to the revolutionary parties outside of Russia. Just as the Moscow based Comintern's principal concern was the homeland of the Revolution, so reasoned Shamir should Israel's principal preoccupation be the homeland of the Jewish people and its security interests. Shamir used the Comintern analogy specifically when he relegated the problem of anti-Semitism to the Diaspora because it was not "real" concern "over here."

Whether Shamir's parallel is correct or not, the divergence of views on locating the American Embassy in Jerusalem closely corresponds to both Koestler's and Shamir's renderings. The current dispute highlights the problem perfectly, namely the reluctance of the Barak government as its predecessors to endorse the seemingly indisputable goal of locating the American Embassy in Jerusalem.

Jerusalem does seem to have an uncanny knack for provoking harsh splits. Consider the rival of Shechem when Solomon's kingdom split, the Samaritan replica of the Temple and even the early history of the Christian Church where there was a decisive split between the Jerusalem Church of Peter and James, opposed to Paul's diasporan loosening of the bonds of Judaism. Despite his disdain for the disciples in Jerusalem he nevertheless called for the Galatians to give money "for the saints in Jerusalem."

Today, Jewish Diasporans urge their governments to move the embassy to Jerusalem and give money while Jerusalem itself is reluctant to make the same demand seriously. Jerusalem is a mystic city as well as a holy one. Perhaps its narcissism, provides fertile ground for this kind ofdivisiveness.

In any event, once again we see a "Jerusalem" view counterposed to a puzzled Diaspora which has a hard time divining the motivations of a leadership which, Koestlerlike, tells its constituents that it knows best, because "over there" is vastly different than "over here," that it is best not to press the issue of Jerusalem now because of the practical need to maintain the peace process and not alienate the parties to negotiations.

Our received ideology is, of course, the centrality of Israel and the felt need for a united, Jewish Jerusalem. It is very difficult, just as it was for the dockworkers in "Darkness at Noon," to fathom the need to repress the ideological wish, in favor of mere pragmatism. Yet, as John Maynard Keynes once noted, in the long run we're all dead." The fact of the matter is that present need is all we can really deal with.

Indeed, just as in "Darkness at Noon," ultimately there really is no ideological clash. On both sides of the debate there is "mere pragmatism," the practicalities of an American election versus the practicalities of a peace process that rivals the difficulties Isaiah's lion and lamb would experience if they signed a peace treaty. The American politicians proclaiming their undying devotion to a basic tenet of Zionist principles are in fact launching the first volley of the 2000 presidential campaign, by playing what Arnold Toynbee once called "the Jewish Card" when he endorsed the Balfour Declaration as a young British Foreign Service officer in 1917.

The Israelis, in charge of an actual government rather than an imagined one, must act, for better or worse, as Rubashov did in "Darkness at Noon," on the practicalities of the situation, not on theoretical grounds which amount to nothing more than Talmudic speculation — the necessity of a Capital Jerusalem now.

Of course, there is a certain sadness about the inability to act on one's most dearly held premises. The difference between "Darkness at Noon's" Rubashov and the present Israeli government is and should be the lack of hypocrisy in postponing the ultimate goal. A frank acknowledgment of the dilemma is far better than an appeal to the Party and History as infallible.

As Koestler argued there really is no choice. This century has decisively shown, ideology's needs can be postponed; pragmatism's cannot.



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