November/December 2006 Featured Story Israel and Lebanon: Waging a "judicious war?" by Allan Solomonow
“Like you, the authors … abhor the carnage, and pray that it ends as quickly as possible… For the moment, however, as unsettling as the thought may be to all of us, short-term violence may the most effective way of pursuing peace. Israel is not attempting to beat the Palestinians and Lebanese into submission. The violence is aimed at defeating the terrorist organizations in order to create a window of opportunity for other Palestinian, Arab and Muslim voices to be heard.”– Public statement from the Chicago Board of Rabbis to Religious Leaders of Metropolitan Chicago The war between Israel and Hezbollah in July and August of 2006 was one of the most pointless and least productive of wars in the region since Israel’s creation in 1948. It is a case study of what is wrong with war-making. For many of us in the Jewish community, Israel’s actions in Lebanon painfully illustrate a degradation of Jewish tradition. Yet some rabbis and American Jews embrace the idea of preemptive war by providing unquestioning support for Israeli militarism. Whatever Israel’s intentions, Israel has failed. As I write in early September, its two kidnapped soldiers have yet to be returned. Hezbollah has been hit hard, yet nonetheless emerged as a hero, stronger in the eyes of most Lebanese and Arabs. The United Nations, Syria, and Iran have reasserted themselves as regional players to contend with. Israel is, as often, deeply divided and unable to agree even on what kind of government investigation should take place. And the U.N.-brokered ceasefire in southern Lebanon is similar to the kind of agreement that might have emerged had the Israeli government chosen to use diplomacy, as it had done previously in similar situations. More importantly, the war was also a defeat for democracy. Israel is so divided, that the already scant prospects for a peace process may be reduced to none at all. Hamas had just been persuaded to meet Israel’s conditions for dialogue when the invasion was launched. Now most of its leaders, who were democratically elected under the watchful eye of the United States, have been arrested by Israel. As for Lebanon, the invasion has been a body blow to its budding “Cedar Revolution” for democracy. Thousands of Lebanese are now cynical, hate-filled, more supportive of Hezbollah, and perhaps closer to Syria. History will look back harshly at a war that killed so many (over 1,400 from both sides), dispossessed so many (over 1.25 million on both sides), and destroyed so much for nothing. Israel must bear the brunt of that criticism, not so much because its strategy was misguided, but because of its assertion that it acts only with moral justification and has, as boasted on the evening networks, “the most moral army in the world.” We were led to expect far more of Israel than the news reflected: photos of dead Lebanese, especially children and elderly, and fields of cluster bombs, some still unexploded. And what can one say about the pervading destruction of the Lebanese infrastructure with the environmental disaster of a tide of black oil along on its coast? Why did this war begin? Henry Siegman, a senior fellow at the Council on Foreign Relations (and formerly the associate executive director of the American Jewish Congress), observed, “Hezbollah would not have attacked Israel if it could not have invoked Israel’s assault on Gaza’s population as its pretext. One American cartoon showed an Israeli fighter bombing Lebanon. On each
Israeli militarism and Palestinian (and Arab) extremism are two sides of the same issue. Their intertwining narratives are so powerful, so close, that each side seems compelled to try to assert the uniqueness of its power by contending that it is somehow more just, more humane, more God-fearing, while the other is inherently evil. This torrent of rhetoric and name-calling has cut off hopes of dialogue and engagement. The American Jewish community and Jewish values The American Jewish community carries a particular burden in this situation. It is not just that we are often more supportive of the Israeli government than Israelis themselves. It is that we have become blind. We will only support the Israeli government; we see no shades of grey. In seeking justice for our historic plight, we have erred on the side of power, of militarism as a quick fix. And still we are not secure. The false prophet of militarism keeps betraying us. This is the bottom line of the excerpt from the rabbis’ statement quoted above. Our guilt and our fear have inverted the biblical injunction, lo v’koah yigbar ish – “not by strength does one prevail” – and turned it into rak v’koah yigbar ish – “only by strength does one prevail” (1 Samuel 2:8-9). While the Sabbath service is filled with references to peace and justice, mercy and love – these were not reflected as the long-laid plans for Israel’s air offensive played out on the Lebanese. A justification for “short-term violence” was publicly articulated by the four Chicago rabbis who claimed to be “liberal voices” calling for a “sacred response … to speak out in the face of violence” – in effect, offering full support for the Israeli government’s action. In their statement they held that Israel’s action appeared “disproportionate – but not when seen in the light of Arab and Muslim attitudes which jeopardize the continued existence of the Jewish State.” Of course, hindsight helps to sharpen our vision. After the cease-fire, we are all asking ourselves: Was this an avoidable and, thus, an “optional” war? Had all other diplomatic alternatives been exhausted? Without denying the basic concerns the rabbis raised, was Israel under an imminent and compelling threat? Clearly not. No nation or army had been mobilized; there were no tanks and planes in opposition; and while there was much bluster, there were no credible threats. Three Israeli soldiers were killed, and two were captured – a border skirmish the likes of which have occurred off and on over the previous ten years. Very few Israeli citizens believed that Israel was fighting for its survival that day. Judaism does not demand pacifism and nonviolence; nonetheless, Jewish teaching stresses avoidance, not just of violence, but also of deceit and wrongdoing. The principle of pikuah nefesh – the sanctity of life – holds that the saving of a life, any life, is the equivalent of saving the world. Thus Israel has outlawed capital punishment (save for Adolf Eichmann), even among its Palestinian prisoners and detainees. This would be a commendable moral statement were it not for the fact that Israeli government policy is to track down and assassinate those believed to have killed Jews. This is what the film Munich was about: a suggestion that Israel’s commitment to “purity of arms” just may not be that pure. And now, far beyond the matter of targeted assassinations, we must face the issue of the hundreds of innocent Lebanese civilians who have fallen victim to Israel’s pursuit of its “self-defense.” Jewish values place great importance on the rule of law. Jewish mercy during war is also fundamental, even to the point that when a city is under siege, Jews are required to leave one side unassailed to permit the innocent to leave. What then has gone awry in the bombing of Lebanon, and, more generally, in Israel’s ongoing military occupation of the Palestinians?
Seeing the humanity of the other What is disconcerting about the rabbis’ letter and most defenses of Israel’s rights is that Jewish law and the Torah are simply not mentioned. Much like the United States’ pursuit of security at almost any cost, Israel is pursuing the illusion of security, and the terrible cost of disregarding Jewish values. This abrogation of principle brings us to the heart of “the war against terrorism”: the “right” to the waging of a “judicious” war to stop an “evil.” While the notion is tempting, it is untenable. This is the remarkable achievement of The Lemon Tree, a new book by Sandy Tolan (recently published by Bloomsbury). Tolan meticulously traces the history of two families through the lens of a single house. One family is Palestinian. They built the house and lived in it for many years prior to Israel’s birth in 1948. The other is a Jewish family. They fled Eastern Europe to Israel, and were placed in the house, where they raised their daughter. The story recounts how children of these two families, Bashir and Dalia, came to meet, and shows the impact of those meetings on their lives. Now their house has become an Open House serving the community, pointing up how closely the narratives of these two peoples reflect each other. Tolan’s tough but hopeful story should be a challenge to religious leaders, particularly here in the United States. Indeed, there are awkward questions that, out of love, we must ask:
Jews in particular must answer these questions faithfully and honestly. Nothing less than the survival of Israel is at stake. Israel’s challenges – what Israelis talk about day by day on the street – are less and less about Jewish values and more and more about anger, identifying new enemies, and sharpening the blades of a “purer” militarism … a renewed effort to succeed in Israel’s “war on terrorism.” It is time for those with a vision of hope and reconciliation to stand up and be heard. Allan Solomonow is a Jewish pacifist who has been working on Palestinian-Israel peace since 1970. In 1969, Allan edited Roots of Jewish Nonviolence for the Jewish Peace Fellowship. ©2006 Fellowship of Reconciliation
|
