Every time the public discourse heats up and the opposing sides start making accusations, whatever the issue, the self-appointed wise men always crop up, say the problem is reminiscent of "dark times in Europe," and go on and on about the issue being a "threat to democracy" and "incitement."
The truth is that anyone familiar with the Hovevei Zion movement (established in response to the anti-Jewish pogroms in the Russian Empire) and the First Aliyah and Second Aliyah – well before World War I – can easily cite heated disagreements between rival factions that were just as bitter, if not more so, than today's. Since when does disagreement among Jews mean a threat to democracy?
There is a lot to be learned from a nation's culture of debate and disagreement. Just look at a people's canonic stories – the stories that are told year after year and reverberate, in different iterations, in the art of every generation. It is lazy to judge a nation solely on the declarations of a certain moment. It is best to delve deep into a nation's symbols and characters, its poems and stories, its entire identity – its full historical personality. This is not too different from a psychological review of an individual – in order to truly understand someone, one must delve deep into the person's biography as well as their subconscious.
Israel recently celebrated Hebrew Book Week. Countless texts are written and sold, but here and there, I also heard references to The Book – the one that gave the Jews the name "People of the Book": the Bible. The Bible is a cultural and spiritual power station that has fueled all types of Hebrew writing since its inception, like a nuclear power plant that lights up millions of homes.
We often throw the term "thousands of years" around without meaning. But in this instance, it has actually been for thousands of years that we have been telling ourselves these ancient stories. I'm not talking only about the legal lessons or the customs and lifestyle choices that we have derived from this book, or the trove of treasured texts that have come out of it – more than any other nation – I am talking about the stories themselves. Those who tell them and retell them time after time infuse them into their bloodstream and pass them on to their offspring.
So what kind of culture of debate can we find in these ancient stories? Totalitarian? The 1930s in Europe?
Just last week, we read for the millionth time the weekly portion that tells the story of Korach and his faction and their failed attempt to overthrow Moses and call the leadership of Moses' brother Aaron into question. The story has been studied and interpreted ad nauseam, and just like every other well-known story, it has been read through to its tragic end. It is important to stop for a moment at the beginning of the story, and note that the Bible is telling us that even Moses – the ultimate leader, legislator, prophet and a host of other lofty titles – did not enjoy a consensus of support among his people.
"Why then do you set yourselves above the Lord's assembly?" Korach accuses Moses and Aaron (Numbers 16:3). The repetition of the story is not meant only to demonstrate the damage that can be caused by a dispute that is not purely for the sake of honoring God, as our sages would say. It posits the dispute itself within our culture as an ongoing event. We are a people who love to debate with one another, and we have been since the dawn of our existence.
The first king, Saul, was anointed king by the prophet Samuel in the name of God. "Has not the Lord anointed you ruler over his inheritance?" (1 Samuel 10:1).
But that was not enough. Samuel gathered the people to Gilgal and held a ceremony where a tribe was selected by lottery, then a clan, then a family, and only then was Saul selected to be king. Even then, not everyone accepted King Saul's authority. He had to prove himself in security and defense before he was seen as a legitimate leader.
Unlike the kings of Europe, for example, the kings of Judea and Israel were never absolute rulers. Despite the pomp and circumstance, the kings of Israel were citizens, nothing more. Their political decisions were always open for debate.
The fact that arguing with kings of flesh and blood was encouraged is dwarfed by one of the most fantastic stories ever told, found in our nation's oldest text: the book of Genesis. In this book, our nation's father, Abraham, argues with God himself over the decision to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah. And he doesn't just argue, he admonishes God: "And Abraham drew near, and said: 'Wilt Thou indeed sweep away the righteous with the wicked?" (Genesis 18:23) and "Shall not the judge of all the earth do justly?" (Genesis 18:25). Abraham reprimands God.
By every benchmark, this is an incredible story: A mere man questions the divine wisdom of God's decision and makes moral demands in an effort to sway God's decree.
The prophet Jeremiah also invites God to a debate: "Lord, You always give me justice when I bring a case before You. So let me bring You this complaint: Why are the wicked so prosperous? Why are evil people so happy?" (Jeremiah 18:1).
And he is not the last to do this. If we view God as susceptible to disagreement, leaders of flesh and blood are surely vulnerable too. From this, we derive the notion that leadership is not absolute and is always open for debate. Our leaders are always at risk of having their decisions questioned.
Compare this outlook with the perception of Allah among Muslims. In Islam, there is no scenario where one disputes Allah or argues with him. God has absolute authority, and holds absolute sway over his creations. Islam means absolute submission to Allah. In accordance with this outlook, a Muslim father has absolute authority over his wife and children. In Muslim tribal culture, the leader is an absolute ruler, or at least appears so in the eyes of his subjects.
I often think about the name Israel, which was given to Jacob when he wrestled with the angel in the book of Genesis – an amalgamation of the Hebrew words for wrestle and God: "Then the man said, 'Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel, because you have struggled with God and with men, and you have prevailed'" (Genesis 32:29). So Jacob wrestled with the angel that night, and with Laban (the father of his wives) earlier, and prevailed. But names, particularly in the Bible, have a special meaning that extends beyond a specific event. It is a reflection of a person's true self. A label he carries forever.
We have been called Israel ever since. That is our business card. And what does it say about us? It represents our constant contention with God, our questioning of His authority, His word, His ideas. It is as if the Bible attests, at the very beginning of our existence as a people, that we would never accept authority as a given. We would always question it and argue, not only with men but also with God. And a people that argues with God would never submit to totalitarian rule by a man.
So even if it wasn't called "democracy" when we became a people, the democratic culture has always been an inseparable part of our identity and our history as a society and as a nation.
We inherited this culture of debate from our forefathers, and we advanced it. Open any page in the Talmud and we can see this. If the original text had been seen as religiously absolute, we would have accepted it as indisputable. But the Talmud is the polar opposite of that sort of perception. In it, every assumption is questioned and almost every opinion that is presented is met with a counter-argument. And even if the text itself didn't include an argument, it was certainly the basis for argument in the generations that followed.
The examples above are just the tip of the iceberg in an overwhelming cultural phenomenon. Keep them in mind when you hear the various doomsday prophets warning us of the destructive "processes" and comparing us to the worst of nations. Maybe they are not aware of the examples in this column, but it is also possible that they do not actually care about democracy and just want to silence the public discussion on a certain issue.
As we can see, however, the discussion has never been silenced.
