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Jewish Political Thought


The Dilemmas of Morality and Power


Daniel J. Elazar


Ours is a topic that can only be talked about today in light of the hard realities of the world in which we live and of the position of the Jews and the Jewish state in that world. Today, we Jews are confronted with the realities of power, its joys and curses. We must confront the problems of relating morality and power in contemporary statecraft. This raises at least three questions:

  1. Is there a difference between individual morality and the morality of public policy choices for a state or other political community?

  2. Assuming a less than perfect world, how should political communities, their leaders and members deal with the problem of maintaining moral positions under duress or at times of stress?

  3. To what extent does or should a morally relativistic or morally absolutist position influence one's conclusions with regard to the first two questions?

We must respond to these questions for at least three reasons. The immediate one was the spate of callow and superficial moral criticisms of Israel on the part of the mass media covering the events of the intifada, joined by the reactions of "anguished" professional Jewish moralists, principally but not exclusively in the diaspora, as well as the usual critics of Israel who exploited the opportunity to the hilt. Whatever the rights and wrongs of the intifada itself, we must not leave the moral field to those self-proclaimed moral arbiters.

Beyond that, the decade of the 1980s witnessed an erosion of Israel's moral position in the world for real or imagined reasons. The political consequences of that erosion are clear to behold, both in the form of new challenges to Israel's position abroad and in increasing divisiveness and loss of self-confidence at home.

There is also the larger question of the relationship between morality and power which confronts every polity in determining its policies and actions and which we as Jews must fully confront once again as a result of our return to statehood. Those of us who have argued that the reestablishment of the State of Israel is not only morally challenging but enables Jews to test the norms of their civilization and the premises of their faith in the most concrete and practical ways, must engage in consideration of the issues of morality and power as they are played out in the life and actions of the Jewish State and must seek to develop guidelines for Israeli and Jewish public policy through the most serious inquiry into the question.

An appropriate Jewish response should grow out of a combination of concern for the Jewish political tradition and the contemporary Jewish public agenda. It should be a response that is consciously Jewish and deliberately rests upon Jewish sources, beginning with the Bible. This Jewish grounding should be combined with a consideration of the concerns and works of Western political thought. Since we are dealing with universal questions from a perspective that is at once universal and appropriately rooted in the concrete situation of a concrete people, we should be prepared to contrast Machiavelli with Bahya ibn Pakuda, link Hillel the Elder with Emanuel Kant, and weigh halakhic consideration, in connection with the principles of natural law and justice.

In some respects we Jews have been reveling in the joys of power, of having power, after such a long period of powerlessness. But now we also have to come to understand some of the curses of power so that we can perhaps understand better what the responsibilities for exercising power are and how difficult these matters can be. It is a lot easier for Jewish intellectuals in diaspora to complain about non-Jewish cops than it is when the Jews are the cops as well. But you cannot have power without having police. Pio Baroja, the great Spanish anarchist writer of the beginning of the twentieth century, defined the ideal commonwealth from an anarchist point of view as one "without priests, without flies, and without policemen." Unfortunately, we have since learned that one cannot have a world without flies and also have a world without policemen. Somebody has got to make sure that those people who are basically garbage dumpers do not do it. That is at the most minimum level of order, which is why Pio Baroja is now remembered more as a writer than he is as a political thinker.

Jews were in a situation where, figuratively and often literally, we had no policemen for almost 2,000 years. It is not that we were not involved in politics; we were involved in the politics of powerlessness. It was the politics of maneuver, of doing what we could with what little we had, what little we could offer in exchange for a minimum amount of security that enabled us to survive as a people throughout the long years of dispersion.

In many respects, rabbinic Judaism as we came to know it in its normative state was a set of prescriptions for how to live in a world in which we were nearly powerless. The sages did not want a powerless Jewish people, but understood that under the circumstances they needed to teach their people how to reconcile the realities of being in a position of minimal power with their collective needs and how to adjust accordingly. What they did was to teach Jews how to channel their political yearnings into spiritual ones wherever possible. Jews accepted that because they had no choice. While there was a choice, normative Judaism was not as normative as it later became. It struggled with other understandings of how to be Jewish and what being Jewish meant. But at a certain point because there was no other choice it became the normative brand of Judaism, with various variations, but basically that was it.

Approximately 100 years ago, a significant body of Jews founded the Zionist movement on the premise that Jews had had enough of powerlessness; that the Jewish people had to make it their business to get back into a situation where, as a polity, they could exercise normal political power in the normal world. In other words, they argued that the Jewish people should seek a state of its own, one which, whatever special qualities it would have (and there were a wide range of Zionist visions), would be normal, with both the trappings and the responsibilities of sovereignty, with an army, with a police force.

After the Six-Day War, Israel passed from having attained a politics of power to a situation in which Jews began, the truth be told, to get a little drunk on power, both in Israel and in the diaspora. Suddenly Jews began discussing Jewish politics in new terms. While acknowledging that the exercise of power is a heavy responsibility, basically Jews liked the new situation very much. We liked being the strong guys on the block for a change. that is must understandable. When all is said and done, it is still better to be the strong guy on the block than the weak guy, even though strength carries with it responsibilities that bring their own problems. That is where we were for the past twenty years.

Now in the last few years Jews have begun to confront the other side of power. It is most blatant, of course, in relation to Israel, but it is not only in relation to Israel. We can see other facets of it, even in relation to diaspora communities, particularly in the United States and France. We are learning that power is like fire. Power is amoral. It is energy, it is force. It can be used for good; it can be used for ill. It can be well-controlled; it can be poorly controlled. It can be well-directed; it can be channeled; if not properly controlled or channeled, it can be abused.

In my opinion, the Jewish people made the right decision 100 years ago when we decided to go back to seek a politics of power, to seek the restoration of our own state that would play a role in the world. We need power, but we must learn how to control and live with it.

Quite frankly, I have very little patience with those who accuse Israel of abandoning Jewish values for reasons of political and military necessity. Statehood is a serious business and the State of Israel is not a summer camp for diaspora Jews. What are "Jewish values" held in the abstract and used to lecture others as to how to behave in dealing with the real difficulties of the human condition? It is easy to preach "Jewish values" when one does not have to pay the price.

The real question is: how do Jews preserve, foster and apply Jewish values when they must take care of themselves. When I hear my son, a medic in the Israeli tank corps who was serving in Samaria in February 1988, tell us how he saved the life of an Arab youth who wounded him in the leg and was subsequently shot in self-protection by one of my son's comrades, to me that says more about Jewish values than any number of articles on the New York Times Op-Ed page. In that connection, survival is also a Jewish value and it ill behooves the generation that had the good fortune to survive or not be caught up in the Holocaust to forget that.

That does not mean that there cannot be disagreements with regard to Israel's political and military policies. Israelis, like all humans, make mistakes and need to reassess matters from time to time. But there is a difference between recognizing human error and trying to correct it, and bemoaning the loss of Jewish values which seem to somehow be best preserved in a hothouse by people who do not bear the responsibility for the lives and security of others. I happen to believe that there have been few governments in history which have been so concerned with the moral aspects of their exercise of political and military power -- in Israel's case, for clearly Jewish reasons, whether traditionally religious or not.

Let me suggest a near consensus that fits squarely within the mainstream of Jewish political thought. For this there should be general agreement on the existence of absolute moral parameters, binding public as well as private behavior, states as well as individuals, but with much room for consequential moral decisions within those parameters, more for states than for individuals. Moreover, there should be a general consensus that moral decisions require serious consideration of ends and means, with certain highly moral ends justifying means which if taken alone would be of questionable morality, while at the same time certain means are too immoral to be considered, even for the best ends. Within those parameters there are such basic Jewish political principles as legitimacy of national self-expression, the necessity for developing the world community as a community of nations, the need to wrestle with moral questions in the exercise of power, and the moral dignity that striving brings to human actions, even when human behavior is inevitably flawed.

In any case, there should be a strong rejection of oversimplification. The effort to avoid oversimplification should unite people whose conclusions with regard to the specific problems of Israel and the intifada and in relation to the Palestinian Arabs are very different indeed. It is what makes this discussion a dialogue in which people talk to one another from within a common moral understanding rather than separately or past one another.

The Zionist pioneers reluctantly pursued statehood to begin with. They were reluctant to establish an army. (Indeed, the choice of the name Israel Defense Forces was designed to reflect the Zionist commitment not to have any army.) The IDF that developed spends extraordinary amounts of time -- appropriately -- in trying to teach its soldiers Jewish values and their practical connections with the IDF mission. We have seen some of the results of that in the IDF's recoiling from the excesses that developed out of the Arab outbreaks, a situation which by its very nature provokes excesses.

There are some who are far less attuned to these moral dilemmas than others. There always are such in every society. And there are times when even those who are attuned will not live up to their own moral commitments. But overall, in my opinion, Israel continues to have an excellent record in this regard, one that has cost any number of Israeli lives over the years.

Despite media reports to the contrary, Israel has not lost or basically changed its sense of purpose or vision. On the most immediate level, Israel is still a place where Jews can find a secure home, where every Jew lives by right and not by sufferance, and where Jews can develop as a people and not simply as individuals. On a second level, Israel remains committed to the principle that it should be the place where the dominant culture is Jewish and where authentic Jewish cultural development -- good, bad, or indifferent -- is part of the life of everybody in the state (including the non-Jews), and not merely small groups of intellectuals or ultra-Orthodox. At the highest level, despite all the difficulties, Israel is still pursuing the Jewish dream of striving to become a good society, even as it strives to become a normal one.

It is this combination that sometimes goes unnoticed among Israel's critics. To be a society of saints requires that others be normal and do the saints' dirty work for them. That is the approach of those who set themselves in ivory towers, of Essenes, or Christian utopian communities. We Jews have had enough of that kind of sainthood. For us it has cost too much.

It is true that there is a tension in Zionism between the search for normality, to be like all the nations, and the effort to build a special Jewishly-informed polity -- a light unto the nations. Both sides to that tension have their merits. Therefore the only way to resolve the tension between them is to try to achieve a synthesis of both, which is what Israel, consciously or unconsciously, has been trying to do. The big change that has taken place in the last forty years is that we are wiser now and understand that this is a more difficult task than the Zionist visionaries and those of us who followed them originally thought -- in part because of the hostile environment in which Israel finds itself, in part because of the cultural baggage which we brought from the Galut, in part because of elements in the Jewish character which we conveniently could ignore as long as we were a persecuted minority and could blame them on others, and in part because of human nature in general. If the task is much harder than we thought, this only makes the challenge that much greater.

To confront this challenge we must study our own political tradition. In this the Bible particularly and halakhic sources secondarily play a major role. This is not a call for Scripture to be quoted as proof test as is often the case in theological discussions of these questions. Rather it is a call for searching the sources more broadly for political teachings by examining its case studies of situations and responses to them. Abraham, Joseph and his brothers, Moses, Joshua, Jeptha, and Samuel provide us with hard teachings about the relationship between morality and power.

What can we conclude from all this? There should be a clear agreement that nations and all but fundamentally immoral states have the right to survive and the obligation to protect the lives and security of their members or citizens. In doing so they may use appropriate methods which in themselves would not be considered moral from an absolute perspective, such as deceit and force, provided that they are used in context with appropriate humility and subject to the limitations of certain absolute parameters. It is generally understood that, given human flaws, mistakes will be made and excesses committed, some of which should be punished if found to be deliberate, but always with an understanding of the circumstances involved.

There should be further agreement that however high the obligation of leaders of states to act to protect the lives of their citizens and those under their protection, they must also consider the lives and legitimate concerns of those whom they are confronting. Moreover, since in this imperfect world individuals may have to pay a more drastic price than do their nations or states, as for example when an individual sacrifices his life in a war to preserve his nation which, while paying a price, survives as a collectivity, that is part of the tragedy of human existence. It calls for reciprocal concern on the part of the national or state leadership to try to safeguard the members of the body politic.

The moral issues posed by Israel's situation are among the most difficult that humans confront in our time since they involve conflicting rights as well as interests and the problem of a people who were committed for nearly 4,000 years to maintaining the highest of moral standards, even when exercising political power. No conference, nor for that matter, no philosopher can be expected to resolve these problems. What is necessary, however, is to seriously consider them on the highest plane but with an eye to the most practical application of the results of that inquiry, without abandoning either the exercise of political power or the pursuit of justice.


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