Dear Jeffrey,
A couple of weeks before we came to America, my wife and I got a piece of advice from an American-born Israeli friend: In every correspondence with the natives, she said, whatever the issue might be, make sure you use the three key terms of the American-English language. That is: “looking forward,” “appreciate,” and “excited.”
This has already been very handy in various circumstances, and I think it might be time to pull it out of the toolbox for our little exchange. So, here we go: I appreciate your honesty in discussing the many flaws of Israelis—lack of humor, bluntness, violent nature, etc; I’m excited to write a letter in which I feel no need to apologize for my rudeness; and I’m looking forward to seeing some examples of the self-deprecating humor you were so proudly proclaiming.
As you might suspect by now, I wasn’t happy with the many generalizations you made about Israelis. But if there’s one issue I’d like to explore further, because it is more problematic than others, it’s your depiction of Israelis as “comfortable with physical power”—meaning that we’re violent—as opposed to diaspora Jews, who are, in your words, “violence-averse.”
The claim that Israelis are more violent than people from other nations is debatable. However, what really strikes me as noteworthy is the unintentional conclusion one can draw from your argument about American Jews.
Comparing Israelis and American Jews, you basically say: You, Israelis, feel comfortable with power and violence, while we, American Jews, are superior because of our more civilized, nonviolent way of doing business. It’s a strange remark, especially when one considers what you said earlier in your letter: that American Jews “are very American in many ways.”
The America that I know—and most nations of the world will agree with what I’m about to say—is a society in which power is heralded and worshipped. America didn’t have many inhibitions as it exercised its overwhelming power in Iraq or Afghanistan (and I’m not saying it was the wrong thing to do). It’s a country that’s brutal in its conduct of war—a country in which the so-called Jacksonian tradition is very much alive as one of the important pillars of policy-making. Aren’t American Jews, being American, a part of this country and the way it exercises its power?
You say that Israelis don’t have a sense of humor, because who needs one when he has F-16s. But don’t American Jews have F-16s? America definitely has them—and if American Jews are part of America, it is fair to say that they have them, too; more of them, in fact, than Israeli Jews.
As an American, you should take responsibility for all aspects of Americanism, good and bad, peaceful and violent, secular and evangelical. Seeing yourself as part of a violence-free society is self-delusional. You choose to be an Americanized Jew when it is appropriate and comfortable but somehow forget the “American” part of the equation when you talk about violent behavior. It is indeed very much like a diaspora Jew to live in a country and remain alienated from its government and (some of) its actions. While you may feel that way, I doubt that most American Jews feel that way or would like to be perceived as holding such opinions.
That brings me back to the end of your last response, in which you ask me to write about the “strange relationship” between American Jews and Israel—and it is, I must admit, somewhat strange. I guess you’re a living example.
Your book (did I say I liked it?—after picking this fight with you I should probably say it again) and your response to my criticism contain all the familiar themes of this strange relationship: the mixture of pride and guilt, worship and reluctance, involvement and detachment.
And this is one of the things I love about American Jews. (I love many things about them, but I will focus on the aspects related to their relations with Israel.) I love it when they care. They may be angry, but they still care. I love it when they feel superior but also inferior. I love the ways they try to morally justify their decision to stay here and not to go there—even those who, like you, feel that Israel is “the answer” and try, but sometimes fail—to join in and not just cheer from the sidelines.
In that sense, and contrary to what most people might say, Israel didn’t make life easier for diaspora Jews; it made things more complicated. It forced them to make the unpleasant decision “to stay or to go” and forced them to justify this decision—for most of them it’s to stay—both to themselves and to future generations.
And the irony here is quite clear: Their decision will be clearly and unquestionably justified—even praised as visionary—only if Israel does not survive its many enemies and difficulties. Then, American Jews will be able to prove that here in New York and Chicago and Miami is where the New Zion truly rests.
But American Jews want Israel to survive and to thrive. Most of them do. And I love them for that—because it means they are willing to sacrifice something for the benefit of their Jewish brethren. If not their body, or their money, or their comfortable life, they are willing to pay the price of being historically wrong. And this, for a Jew, is no small price to pay.
Best,
Rosner
