“It is, moreover, the self-evident right of the Jewish people to be a nation, as all other nations, in its own sovereign state.” Does that phrasing sound familiar? It should. The assertion of the existence of self-evident truths in the Israeli Declaration of Independence echoes the American Declaration of Independence and its premise that all men are equal and possess the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Moreover, the state is responsible for ensuring that these self-evident and inalienable rights are granted to its citizens. The obvious distinction between the uses of this phrasing in each document is that the Israeli declaration limits its statement to Jews only. How could one expect otherwise? The document itself confirms that a Jewish state became necessary due to the atrocities of the Holocaust. There was the feeling that Jews in the mid twentieth century urgently needed a place where they felt that they could practice their religion safely. The legitimacy of the nation is further bolstered by the “blessing of progress” that early Zionist Jews brought to Israel/Palestine as well as references to Jewish contribution to the success of the World War Two. Both of these achievements call attention to Jews as a distinct and united group – it logically follows that a nation should be built around this existing identity. However, the stipulation of the Israeli declaration comes with complications that the universal American Declaration does not. Not to say that the American Declaration of Independence does not have its own problems – but the Israeli declaration makes little provision for people of other denominations and cultural backgrounds who might be living in Israel. The Arab peoples who inhabit the area are mentioned only in a very short paragraph which exhorts them to maintain peaceful relations and help to build up the new state. The short mention of the Arabs sets up boundaries early on in Israel’s independence. It creates a rift that separates Jews from other members of the state and, as the world has seen, has led to complications in the state’s relationship with both surrounding Arab groups and those who reside within the state borders.
What does this reality look like on the ground? I arrived in Israel on Yom Hazikaron, the day of remembrance that commemorates those who have given their lives to contribute to the foundation of the state and those have given their lives to preserve it. The timing is very intentional – causing all Israelis to remember those who made the ultimate sacrifice in order to ensure that they could celebrate Yom Hatzmaut, the day of Independence. On this day, I walked around the city of Jerusalem as the day of remembrance wound down and the Independence Day celebrations were gearing up. The transition happens at midnight, fireworks signalling the beginning of a joyous new day, one in which Israelis can be proud of their nation and of their hard-won independence. I saw people of all walks of life out and about. An adorable young girl holding an inflatable white and blue hammer, teenagers out with their friends, walking and celebrating. I saw men out in full orthodox regalia, sometimes accompanied by their modestly-dressed wives. Moreover, I heard music in Arabic, saw lettering in Arabic, and saw some Arabic dancing. On this day of all days, it did not appear to me that there was a rift between Jews and Arabs in Israel. The environment was all happiness, celebration, and smiles. Needless to say, I felt very lucky to have arrived on such a momentous day. Later, I celebrated with other students of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem at a party near the city walls. There was authentic Israeli pop music, outrageous dancing, and a great view of the midnight fireworks. Preceding the fireworks, however, was a marvellous sight. Just prior to midnight, I looked back towards the wall to see a group of orthodox Jewish men, all sporting various combinations of kippah, black hats, tzit tzit, and peyas, running along the outside of the wall holding an Israeli flag and cheering. Their joy was incredibly moving. The road between us, however, was a jarring symbolic barrier. The most extreme symbol of religiousity to be found at the student party was the odd student in a kippah. The women were beautiful, but none of them conforming to orthodox modesty standards. This drew my attention to another rift in Israel: that between those of different types of Judaism. What does it mean to have a Jewish nation if we all have different ideas of what it means to be Jewish? Should independence be celebrated by a group of religious men running around the wall with a flag or by a raucous party? Stuart Cohen points to this issue when he discusses the influence that certain rabbis have on religious soldiers in the IDF. The soldiers communicate with their rabbis through the time-honoured tradition of she’elot u-teshuvot or “responsa”. They ask the rabbi a question and are in return instructed on daily life issues. This is complicated when the soldiers are asking advice regarding their military orders. Cohen illustrates this complication when he points out that the rabbis’ inherently religious agenda then influences how a soldier performs state-sanctioned military operations. In short, the involvement of rabbis who subscribe to a certain form of religious Judaism can lead to religion claiming authority in state matters. When one considers the varying types of Judaism practiced in Israel, this becomes alarming. Religiously orthodox rabbis could push decisions that a conservative or reform Jew would not agree with – that the rest of the state would not agree with.
Despite Cohen’s article and despite the fact that, when I think about it, I am saddened by the fact that orthodox women were not present in the group of men that ran around the wall to celebrate independence, I cannot help be uplifted by both expressions of celebration for Independence Day. I was happy to dance and have fun with Israeli students, but I was completely overcome by the sight of the running orthodox men. Some had their arms around each others’ shoulders and they skipped and sang even as they ran. I was overjoyed simply at their display of joy and the fact that they had an environment in which they could engage in such a euphoric celebration of the state. I saw all members of Israeli society celebrate that night. Arabic music and dancing in the streets, a secular party environment, and a riotous and orthodox run around the wall. I’d be lying if I said that I knew what to make of it, but I saw a lot of joy from various different factions in Israeli society and the joy gives me great hope. Though what I read presented the idea of rifts between members of Israeli society, I saw only happiness. The groups may not have been celebrating immediately together but they celebrated the same thing at the same time in the same place. And if you can agree on at least one thing, I would say you have at least a starting point for unity. The shared air of celebration was a sight that gave me great hope for positive relations between Israelis and Arabs and understanding between Jews in Israel who adhere to different types of Judaism.