As numerous studies demonstrate, in the eyes of the majority of Russian-speaking—and many other—Diaspora Jews, Israel is perceived today, among other things, as an inexhaustible resource of new Hebrew Jewish texts (either in the original or in translation into Russian and other languages), cultural codes, models, and concepts that infuse ethnic content into the Russian-Jewish version of "Diaspora Zionism." But does present-day Israel meet such expectations? First and foremost, what do we mean when we speak of those elements of Israeli culture that may be sought after by the Euro-Asian and other Jewish Diasporas, and to what extent can they be considered a collective message from Israeli society to Jews and their family members still living outside its borders?

Editor's Preface

The decades that have passed since the collapse of the USSR and the intensification in its successor states of the concurrent processes of reviving organized Jewish life on the one hand, and large-scale repatriation to Israel and emigration to Western countries on the other, have witnessed another crucial phenomenon.  Namely, the completion of the formation of a new sub-ethnic group of the Jewish people—Russian-speaking Jews—in the post-Soviet space, in Israel, and in the countries of the new Russian-Jewish Diaspora. Its infrastructure is supported by new local Jewish groups (Ukrainian, Russian, Belarusian Jews, communities of "Russian Israel," "the Russian-Jewish community of the USA," etc.) possessing their own specific communal, subcultural, and ethno-political identity. This new sub-ethnos, formed predominantly from Ashkenazi Jews, possesses, as is expected, a number of specific cultural attributes filled with Jewish content of various origins. This includes the remnants of the Eastern European Ashkenazi tradition (bearing in mind that this heritage serves as a substrate for the new, Russian-language Jewish culture, including in the form of numerous translations of fiction from Yiddish into Russian), as well as elements of the Russian-language Jewish culture of the Soviet and post-Soviet periods, and borrowed cultural innovations, primarily Israeli and, to a lesser extent, American and Western in general.

In fact, it is Israel, according to the data of a large-scale sociological study conducted at the initiative of the EAJC in 2019-2020 in 5 post-Soviet countries under the leadership of Z. Khanin and V. Chernin, that serves as the main focus and unifying principle of this transnational Russian-speaking Jewish community. This, among other things, defines its role as a key factor in the personal, cultural, and ethnic identification of Jews in the countries of the former USSR. Naturally, this framework requires cultural enrichment—including, as many believe, in the spirit of Ahad Ha'am's ideas of "cultural Zionism," which assigned the Jewish community in Eretz Yisrael the role of a spiritual center of the Jewish people, capable of preserving the unity and collective identity of the Jewish people in the countries of dispersion. Officially, Israel does indeed try to some extent to fulfill Ahad Ha'am's vision by presenting a version of the new Hebrew culture adapted to the needs of the Diaspora. But are they fully capable of meeting this demand today? This is the subject of the note by Dr. Velvl Chernin.

Prof. Ze'ev Khanin

V. Chernin: "AN IMPORTANT QUESTION"

In the eyes of the majority of Russian-speaking—and many other—Diaspora Jews, Israel is perceived today, among other things, as an inexhaustible resource of new Hebrew Jewish texts (either in the original or in translation into Russian and other languages), cultural codes, models, and concepts that infuse ethnic content into the Russian-Jewish version of "Diaspora Zionism." But does present-day Israel meet such expectations? First and foremost, what do we mean when we speak of those elements of Israeli culture that may be sought after by the Euro-Asian and other Jewish Diasporas, and to what extent can they be considered a collective message from Israeli society to Jews and their family members still living outside its borders?

The answer to this question is not as straightforward as it might seem at first glance. Within Israel itself, an intense ideological conflict is unfolding over the issue of Jewish self-identification and even the very definition of the term "Jewish." This conflict directly affects Diaspora Jewry, and at this stage, the focus is primarily on Russian-speaking Jewry—both the part residing in the historic Homeland and those parts remaining in the post-Soviet states or in the countries of the new Diaspora.

The domestic political battles of the last couple of years and the accompanying heated polemics in the Israeli media and social networks suggest that the main conflict tearing Israeli Jewish society apart from within is the conflict between secular and religious Jews. However, this is not the case. The conflict is between modernized Jews and fundamentalist Jews. Modernized Jews are characterized by a wide spectrum of attitudes toward religion—from convinced atheists who have no intention of abandoning their Jewishness, to the still relatively few modernized ultra-Orthodox. These are the ones who enlist in the army and combine Torah study with work—not in the form of casual jobs, but in the form of a full-fledged professional career.

It was through the efforts of modernized Jews that the modern State of Israel was established, becoming one of the most economically and technologically advanced states in the world, providing its residents with a high level of social protection. Given that this is a Jewish state, and Jews, as history shows, regularly become objects of hatred, discrimination, and direct violence with tragic consistency, it is also highly significant that modernized Jews created an army and other security structures that neighbors near and far must reckon with. The ideology of the modernized Jews who established and developed the State of Israel (whether they realize it or not) was and remains Zionism—the ideology of European-style Jewish nationalism, which set itself the task of national self-determination for the Jewish people in their historic homeland.

As is well known, on an ideological level, Jewish religious fundamentalism does not require a Jewish national state—or a Jewish state at all—deferring the task of creating, or rather restoring, the Jewish state to the Messiah, who is expected to establish it in an ideal form sometime in the future. Unlike Zionism, Jewish religious fundamentalism views Jews not as a European-style nation (albeit one in the process of formation), but as a religious community, with all the attendant consequences. At the same time, adherents of this ideology—except for the most ideological, such as Neturei Karta and the Satmar Hasidim—while denying religious legitimacy to the State of Israel created and maintained by modernized Jews, are prepared to coexist with it and utilize its resources for their own interests, without feeling any particular obligation toward it.

To justify this position, they often use a Talmudic parable (Tractate Sanhedrin 32a), according to which, if two camels meet—one laden with a burden, and the other without a burden—the one without a burden must yield the way. The implication is that the fundamentalist Jews carry the weight of centuries-old Jewish tradition and commandments, while modernized (primarily secular) Jews carry no such burden, and therefore must yield the way (this exact interpretation of the Talmudic parable was put forward by the spiritual leader of religious ultra-Orthodoxy, Avraham Yeshaya Karelitz (the Chazon Ish, 1878-1953), in a conversation with Israel's first Prime Minister, David Ben-Gurion). [1]

Paradoxically, modernized Jews tend, in their mass, to accept this interpretation of the parable. I am not referring to the recently emerged militant Russian-speaking defenders of the economic and civic escapism and political ambitions of religious ultra-Orthodoxy, some of whom continue to denounce "enemies of Judaism" on social networks even after the onset of Shabbat. The problem is that almost the majority of modernized (primarily secular) Jews have forgotten that their camel also carries a burden. Like any respectable national movement, Zionism implies the existence of a national history and a national literature.

But here a problem arises: a simple look at the curriculum for Jewish literature and history of Israel in state ("mamlakhti") and state-religious ("mamlakhti-dati") schools reveals that students are offered something disjointed. While the quality of teaching literature in modern Russian schools should not be exaggerated either, everyone who studied there should, in an ideal world, have an idea that in the 18th century there was Fonvizin, who wrote "The Minor." Then came Pushkin, Lermontov, Gogol, Dostoevsky, Ostrovsky, Tolstoy, Chekhov, Mayakovsky. The curriculum of the Soviet Russian school also included mention of the fact that prior to Fonvizin there was "The Tale of Igor's Campaign." And what about us? In Israel, literature is taught in school, and it is assumed that those preparing to take the matriculation exam in this subject have, in theory, heard the basic terms and surnames. In practice, however, very many, if not the vast majority of our children, know nothing about Naftali Herz Wessely, a Hebrew-language poet (to say nothing of those who wrote in Yiddish) who lived during Fonvizin's time. Nor do they know anything of substance about Meir Letteris, Abraham Mapu, Micah Joseph Lebensohn, Judah Leib Gordon, Mendele Mocher Sforim, etc., who followed him. Medieval Jewish literature is completely out of the question. Everyone, of course, knows about Hayim Nahman Bialik and Shaul Tchernichovsky, but primarily because of the streets named after them.

In terms of national history, everyone has heard of Simon Bar Kokhba. But few remember the father of Jewish theater, Abraham Goldfaden, thanks to whom we all remember him. Goldfaden, who read about Bar Kokhba in Heinrich (Zvi) Graetz's history of the Jewish people written in German, wrote a play in Yiddish titled "Bar Kokhba." The 1880s, when this play appeared, was a time of Jewish national revival. The Jewish national movement needed a hero. A symbol. Bar Kokhba was perfectly suited for this role. Bar Kokhba lived in the 2nd century CE. But what happened in our country after that? Who knows about the Jewish revolt against the Byzantines in 613-617 CE? Who knows about the defense of Haifa by Jews against the Crusaders in 1100? Yet that was the last battle fought by Jews in their own country against foreign invaders (1000 years after the destruction of the Second Temple!!!).

Thus, modernized Jews (including religious Zionists) are largely to blame themselves. They created the State of Israel. They develop it through their labor, courage, and talent. Only they forgot about the burden their camel was carrying. Consequently, the role of those responsible for the "Jewishness" of the Jewish national state is assumed by ultra-Orthodox fundamentalists—who, naturally and understandably, fill the ideological and cultural vacuum with their own understanding of "Yiddishkeit" and their own agenda.

It is clear that the answers to the questions raised must primarily be provided by Israelis themselves. However, Diaspora Jews, as well as their umbrella and other communal organizations, can—and, in my opinion, must—express their position as well. After all, what has been said concerns them in the fullest measure. The problem appears so serious that it justifies, in my view, borrowing the title of Eliezer Ben-Yehuda's famous article ("A Respectable Question"), which first put the revival of the spoken functions of the Hebrew language on the agenda.

[1] For more details, see: David Melamed, "Whose cart is more heavily loaded—the secular or the ultra-Orthodox" (in Hebrew), NRG website, 26.8.2013.