The Nation State and the Promised Land: An American Yiddish Writer in Israel, 1949, by Solomon Simon. English translation, 2024, by David R. Forman. All rights reserved.
Page numbers from Medines Yisroel un Erets Yisroel, 1950, Farlag Matones (NY), are included for those who wish to follow along with the original Yiddish, below.
To begin with the Introduction, click here.
The State of Israel is a free country. In the three months I was there, I went wherever I wanted, said what I wanted, gave my opinion when I was asked and when I was not asked, and it did not occur to anyone to say: “Do not interfere, it is none of your business, you are a foreigner.” Often I played dumb and went into places where I was not supposed to go, and no one asked me for any identification. There is complete freedom of movement and of the press there. The citizen is in charge. His rights are self-evident. I often considered that the government holds the reins too loosely. There is so much freedom there, that it seemed to me that it would be easy for our enemies to disguise themselves as Jews and cause big problems. No one is suspicious of anyone. All the doors are open and the gates unlocked.
But the Israel citizen is not an indifferent or negligent person when it comes to ideas, faith, or ideology. Everyone is a party member, who is sure that only he is privy to the whole truth, and that only his party knows how to solve all the problems in the Jewish community in Israel and in the diaspora. Often the lines of demarcation between the parties are vague, practically imperceptible. Yet each party has its daily newspaper and its organization, and will not…
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unite with anyone by any means, not even with another party that has the same ideology.
One example: No matter how hard I struggled to understand the difference between the Mapai and the Mapam, I was unable to learn the distinction. Both are socialist. Both are secular. Both are for austerity. Both are against letting the Arabs back in. Both orient themselves towards the kibbutzim. Both fought with extraordinary courage during the war. Both were originally in favor of working cooperatively with the Arabs. Both are now for Hebrew as the national language in the State of Israel, and in goles. More important still, is that both parties are composed of the same element of Jews – Western European Jews who were raised on socialism and on modern Yiddish and Hebrew literature. The leaders of both parties were educated in the Yeshiva and on the worker’s “bursar”. Nevertheless, they are opposed to each other.
They say that the basic principle that divides the two is that the Mapam orients itself toward Soviet Russia and the Mapai towards the West. But this is completely untrue. The Mapamniks are not Stalinists. They maintain that the kibbutz is a big slap in the face of Russian Communism. In whatever Mapam kibbutz I was in, I heard them say over and over that in Soviet Russia there is socialism with a whip, which is no socialism at all, but in the State of Israel the kibbutz is a free socialist society, which a member can leave whenever he wants. And the Mapainiks are no opponents of Soviet Russia. They just sought a loan from Russia. But the Russians did not even answer them. The Mapamniks know that they would have the same luck with the Soviets that the Mapainiks had. Everyone in the State of Israel knows that the Soviets will never work together cooperatively with anyone else. Soviet Russia demands obedience without conditions. No one in the Sate of Israel will agree to that, the Mapamniks included. Only the Communists would accept such an arrangement.
What is especially glaring is that, whether the Mapai or whether the Mapam, they live on Uncle Sam’s account. I am not talking about the machines and other necessities that were sent from America on the balance sheet of the hundred million dollar loan, but that simply without the money from American Jews, both…
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parties would be bankrupt. The Mapam’s members cannot even support their own newspaper. In the meantime, I have still not heard the Mapam say it is going to refuse to take money from capitalist America.
But if you read the party papers, you would think that God knows what kind of gulf lies between the Mapai and the Mapam.
Ten Hebrew daily newspapers are printed in the State of Israel. Eight of them are party newspapers. The press runs at a loss of tens of thousands of pounds. It does not occur to anyone that this is a waste of money, time, and effort, all of which could be dedicated to better things. The reason is that every Israeli believes his party is a necessity; one does not compromise on principle. Yes, you often hear people say there are too many political parties in the Yishuv, but the person complaining always means the opposition: The other parties must not be so narrow-minded. They ought to dissolve and merge with their party, which has the correct solution to all their problems and knows how to bring about a complete redemption.
I think that this ferment of parties and these commitments to ideas and ideologies is not a flaw. Jews did not come to the Land of Israel to seek out their personal material fortunes. Those who were looking for that went to the Americas or immigrated to Western Europe. Nor did the Jews who came to the land of the patriarchs come just to found a Jewish state. There were other lands where that could have been done. The secular, modern Zionist was, in the end, linked to the idea of the Messiah after all, to the ideal of the end of days and the dream of God’s Kingdom on earth. If you look more deeply into the Yishuv, it is clear to see that Jews came to found a government that would be an example for the whole world. Witness all the social experiments, the tens of thousands of idealists who gave up their personal happiness on behalf of the renaissance of the folk. There were very few among the inhabitants who did not “waste” a few years on a kibbutz or in some other group which gave their whole personal lives over to the good of the community. Even when the group supposedly worked only for its own subsistence, the people as a whole got more use from their work than the individuals got from the group.
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In the state of Israel, social experiments bubble and boil. On the surface, it looks as though the Jews have become hardened men of the world: They brag like gang members about injustice and unfair acts. There are Jews here who pride themselves on misdeeds and crimes, because this is how a normal people acts. But in essence, it is not true. When you talk long enough with any Jew in the Land of Israel, he will admit to you that the Jewish people has not toiled for two thousand years in order to achieve the great stature of some tiny Balkan state. Here I am not talking about the religious Jews, who believe that the Israel has a duty to live differently. But even on the secular kibbutzim they mortify themselves in order to attain perfection. With each economic problem they take on, they do not just try to find a practical solution but always take care that the solution does not, heaven forbid, violate some social or ethical principle.
Still, it is hard for an outsider to look on while money, time, and hard labor are so often squandered on account of a minuscule detail[1].
I witnessed a conflict over education. It was an argument “for the sake of heaven,”[2] but I have no way to reckon how much credit I should award the Yishuv for it.
There are officially three main types of schools in the State of Israel: The general public schools, the worker’s movement schools, and the orthodox schools. Until just recently, up until September, 1949, the parents paid tuition and the schools had to support themselves. The general public schools have had more students than the other school systems. But last summer, the Knesset approved a mandatory schooling law. They did not create a unified national school system, however. Instead, every school of no matter what type will be supported by the government, as long as they can enroll twenty-five students.
In Ra’Anana, there were two schools – the general public school, where nearly five hundred students learned, and the Orthodox school. The public school is the oldest school in the colony. It has a wonderful building with a fine garden, a park, and a playground; a large kitchen and an auditorium; in short, a truly…
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model school. Naturally, all the teachers are good socialists and are members of Histadrut.
One fine August day announcements appeared on the fenceposts of Ra’Anana, saying that on Shabbes a large gathering would take place, at which a representative of Histadrut would discuss the founding of a zerem ovdim (worker’s movement) school.
A good crowd came to the meeting. The representative of Histadrut spoke long and well. He emphasized that the worker’s movement school not only gave the children a socialist education, but also instilled a love of work and of social justice. Children will also learn to love the kibbutzim and absolutely will have a burning patriotism planted in their hearts, so that they will be ready to sacrifice for their fatherland and defend the yishuv with their blood. Above all, the child will be taught to distinguish between the rich and the poor, and will be prepared to defend their rights as workers. He finished up with a practical suggestion: Given that the great majority of the children who attend the general public school have parents who are members of Histadrut, the parents should sign a petition saying they want a worker’s movement school and take over the current school in Ra’Anana, making it into a worker’s movement school.
A heated discussion began. The fathers and mothers argued that if they had wanted a worker’s movement school in Ra’Anana, they would have had one a long time ago. Up to now the public school has been supported by tuition and supported by the city budget. Who would have stopped them from founding a worker’s movement school in the first place? The Orthodox founded their own school. The majority in Ra’Anana does not want party-run schools. The public school gives the children a good national education, and instills the love of work and a feeling for social justice in them. A great many of the graduates are in kibbutzim now. They listed some of their names. Defend the fatherland? Ra’Anana carried its share of the sacrifices just like any kibbutz. And, in general, how can they take over a finished school, that was built with so much effort by an entire community? Just skip the hard parts and take over a building with a free roof, a garden a park and a
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functioning water source. This is plain theft.
The speaker reacted by playing the victim,[3] answering with a rebuke:
“This meeting should be ashamed of itself. This is how socialists speak, members of Histadrut? We need a real socialist school, where the children will celebrate May Day and will not have to sit on the same bench where the rich children sit; like, for example, Rokach’s children!”[4]
He was not left wanting for an answer:
“No one forces children to attend school on the First of May. Rich and poor children on the same bench? Where are you going to find capitalists here in Ra’Anana? All we have here are small farmers, moshavniks, and workers. Sure, there is a Rokach in Tel-Aviv, but what have they done to us here? And what does that possibly have to do with breaking up a school where over four hundred children are learning? We have a good staff of teachers who are running a model school. Founding another school will double the expenses – another building will have to be erected, another menahel (principle) hired. Where is the common sense in that?”
It was like talking to the wall. The meeting accepted a resolution that Ra’Anana needed a workers movement school, and a committee was formed to collect signatures.
In a week’s time the committee brought over two hundred signatures. The community seethed. Where did they get so many signatures?
A week later an item appeared in the newspapers. Most of the signatures were gathered through deceit, and a lot of them were not even from parents but from students. A great number of the signatures were from Yemeni Jews who were, almost without exception, Orthodox. They send their children to the religious school and generally live far from the public school. Their young children would not be able to walk such a distance. So how did they get their signatures? Someone simply went to them and said, this is an official document, written by the government. The Yeminis believe that one must follow the rules of the government in power.
But the labor agitators did not give in. They admitted that they had not supervised the collection of signatures,
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but what did that have to do with opening a worker’s movement school? They will supervise the collection of signatures from now on. They will set up a volunteer committee at ‘city hall’. It’s OK, those interested in a worker’s school can come to the committee to register.
Yes, they gathered over one hundred authentic signatures. A heated dispute began in the community. Where would the new school be? The labor organizers answered that they should divide the building in two— the students from the general public school would learn on the lower floor, and the students from the worker’s school on the upper floor. What would they do about gymnastics? There was only one athletic field. So be it. They would figure something out.
I left before the new school opened, so I am not an eyewitness to what happened next. But here is the text of a letter that I received from Ra’Anana on February 14th, 1950, written by a student of the school, my brother’s boy[5]:
“The worker’s movement school has opened, and the number of students is the same as the number of students in the public school (and maybe even more). Both schools have classes in the same building, but one has lessons in the morning and the other in the afternoon. On the tables where the students sit are two signs: “Worker’s School” or “Public School”. But the question will be resolved soon, and a new building will be built. Yours, Bentzyon.”
Whether such principled inflexibility is good for the Yishuv, I leave it to the reader to judge.
[1] A kutsu shel yud (the tip of the letter ‘yud’). That is, the thinnest bit of the smallest letter of the Jewish alphabet.
[2] That is, people on both sides had the purest of motives.
[3] [trans.] The phrase ‘playing the victim’ is anachronistic here, but I know of no English equivalent for the Yiddish idiom kozak-hanigzl, “a wronged Cossack [who acts as though he is the one being robbed].” According to my friend Itamar, this idiom dates all the way back to Chmelnitski’s time. If so, it contains a second layer of meaning. The Cossacks were, in fact, wronged, but that did not justify them taking it out on the Jews.
[4] Israel Rokach (1896-1959), then mayor of Tel Aviv.
[5] The book here gives the original of the letter in Hebrew, followed by the author’s translation into Yiddish.
The Nation State and the Promised Land 