On Leadership: Bartlet, Obama & Olmert

During an emotional speech last Wednesday, Israel’s Prime Minister announced his intention not to run in the party primary scheduled for September.

Despite a strong economy, low unemployment and improved personal security, Olmert remained largely unpopular, tainted by images of corruption and the mishandling of the Lebanon War.

2 weeks ago, Israel hosted another leader, who by January 2008 may well be the most powerful person in the world (not Gordon Brown). Obama is attractive because he offers something new and refreshing, a vision to inspire a mostly ambivalent electorate…a feeling that there is more to politics than soundbites, that individuals can make a difference.

The evening after Obama left was spent in one of the best ways possible – watching old episodes of the West Wing with friends. Out of all my favorite series’ - Heroes, 24, Spooks, Lost - only Sorkin’s West Wing is good enough to watch over and over.

One episode describes how the team forms around Josiah (Jed) Bartlet, played by Martin Sheen. Josh advises a leading democrat, but is frustrated by his lack of courage on policy. Sam slogs away at a law firm organizing insurance for oil tankers.

Both are looking for the 'real deal,' a candidate who stands for something more than just winning.

The die is cast when Bartlet tells a dairy farmer why he voted for a bill increasing the price of milk (check out the clip – its awesome).

'Today, for the first time in history, the largest group of Americans living in poverty are children...1 in 5 and they’re children.. I voted against the bill because I didn’t want to make it harder for people to buy milk.

I stopped some money flowing into your pocket, if that angers you, if you resent me, I completely respect that. But if expect anything different from the President of the United States you should vote for someone else.'

At work, I’m part of a team dealing with Reut’s Strategic ‘Impact,’ based on a book by Harvard Professor Ron Heifetz called Leadership without Easy Answers.

Heifetz distinguishes between two concepts people often see as synonymous - Leadership and Authority. While Authority denotes those elected to positions of power, Leadership is something else.

It’s not about making people feel safe and secure, resolving conflict or being popular; that’s the responsibility of Authority figures.

Leadership, according to Heifetz, is often about causing discomfort, orchestrating conflict. It’s about the very difficult process of facilitating a change in the values, priorities and behavior of a society to be able to deal with new challenges...

All of which is a far cry from what David Grossman describes as our own “terrified, suspicious, sweaty, legalistic, deceptive” leadership.

So as Israel looks to appoint a new leader, is it too much to hope for someone able to cogently articulate a vision about what we stand for, about the future, about why the smart, educated people should stay rather than earn big bucks abroad?

In a country born from ideas and vision as well as blood and tears, do we not deserve leaders prepared to act in the greater good a la Bartlet, or explain the tough choices ahead a la Heifetz?

Is it too much to expect inspiration from the leader of a people whose entire history inspires?

So as discussions over who should replace our current authority figure start afresh, and the media and candidates resume their superficial spin and soundbites, the real question is whether we’ll find someone who believes in more than just winning…and whether the ‘real deal’ is to be found anywhere other than on TV…

The Swap: Not Letting Apathy Kill Us...

It hasn’t been a great week in Israel. The photos of Ron Arad, a chilling reminder of what can happen when prisoner deals don’t go through; the grieving over coffins; our Lebanese neighbors celebrating the return of their 'hero'.

Commenting on the welcome scenes for Samir Kuntar - who brutally murdered a little girl 29 years ago - Israel's Deputy Foreign Minister Majalli Whbee said it showed to what extent the politics of hatred can rob people of human compassion.

In addition to these national security issues, the ongoing Talansky affair and investigations into the Prime Minister rumble on. The affair and finances it involves touch on the influence wealthy non – Israelis can have on our political life.

The weekend's Jerusalem Post argued that many Israelis oppose the foreign interference of such 'armchair warriors' although it quoted Yossi Beilin as describing it as positive, even though he often completely disagreed with the political position they take.

Referring to Irving Moskowitz, who funded settlements in East Jerusalem in the 1990s, the former Meretz leader said that anything is better than apathy and that despite his belief in the damage Moskowitz caused "I couldn't ignore the fact that he cares. I prefer someone who cares about Israel to someone who doesn't."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It may sound cruel, but I'm not sure I would have voted for the deal. It's not just the asymmetrical ratio (we've had worse) or the fact this makes it harder to secure the release of Gilad Shalit.

It's not just the dangerous precedent of swapping bodies for live prisoners, the opposition of the security services or the failure of Hizbullah to fulfill their side of the deal on providing information on Ron Arad.

It's also that when Israel strikes deals with non - state groups wedded to terrorism, it completely undermines those more moderate entities committed to achieving their aims through non violent means…

Yet despite all of the reasons for saying no, I can't deny how proud I am to live in a country like Israel – a country that feels, that hurts, that cries, that comes to a standstill over two of its fellow citizens;

And despite my rational disagreement with the decision, I can't deny my emotional resonance with it, or the feelings on seeing the coffins being unloaded by Hizbullah…

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I only wonder whether we can harness this collective identification and sympathy we feel over our 'returning sons' to other areas in society.

Because if we care this much about Udi and Eldad, think how much energy we could spend on caring about the fate of the thousands of the unnamed citizens of Sderot, the hundreds who die every year on the roads, or the victims of domestic violence and sexual abuse that escape the media spotlight.

If the politics of hatred can rob the Lebanese of their human compassion, let's see how far the politics of identification can get Israelis.

Because as Yossi Beilin said, what divides us most is not our political opinions but whether, at the end of the day, we care about the future of this country.

A Bridge of Strings

A trip to Jerusalem last week provided an opportunity to cast my eyes on the newly completed 118 meter high bridge at the entrance to the city.

Designed by world-famous Spanish architect Santiago Calatrava, reports suggest the jury is still out on the 2,600-ton contraption, dubbed the Bridge of Strings. One onlooker said he thought it was beautiful, but that it didn’t fit with its surroundings. Others variously described it as bearing a resemblance to David's harp, a spider's web and a crooked nail.

Despite costing 250m NIS, the bridge will remain unused for two years due to repeated delays in constructing Jerusalem's light railway. The opening ceremony meanwhile was hit by controversy when the Ultra Orthodox complained about the clothing of the dance troupe of 13 year old girls due to perform.

Due to their pressure, the dancers were forced to change.

I'm surprised no one thought to mention it, but the bridge provides an apt metaphor for the Israeli experience; inefficient bureaucratic planning, unwise budgetary priorities and the spineless caving to the Charedim.

And perhaps more ironically no one can quite decide whether they love it or hate it.

But the Bridge of Strings also represents something deeper about our experience here.

I think Israel is amazing and I am thankful to be living my life on the front line of where Jewish history is being played out, where in the space of such a short time we have achieved so much. Yet despite the pride and happiness surrounding the country's continued success, there is also something hovering below the surface, something deep in the Israeli psyche; the fear that maybe this could all end one day, that our future here is not guaranteed.

If Diaspora Jews fret over whether their grandchildren will be Jewish, here they fret over whether their grandchildren will be at all…

It’s a society which, as writer Amnon Rubenstein states, has deep existential anxiety, that is hanging by a thread. A country that, according to David Grossman, has the "most powerful army in the region, a nuclear capability, yet has an inner feeling of absolute fragility, like we are at the edge of an abyss…"

We are a people whose fear that Israel will not exist anymore hovers above us constantly, even when we try and supress it.

I don’t know whether this anxiety causes us to be more aggressive on the roads, more belligerent to our enemies, or more ambivalent to the suffering of our neighbors.

But I do know that in many ways we are society trying to create normalcy while hanging by a thread, by walking across a bridge of strings.

And even if such bridges are generally stable, who knows if one day we may fall between the cracks into the abyss below.

Between Clark Kent & Superman: Israel's view of Diaspora

I don’t go to bars that often and am forced to queue outside even less. But the 10 minutes outside Villa Sokolov last Thursday did provide an opportunity to successfully test out a theory that’s been doing the rounds - that putting on your best English accent immediately gets you through the chaotic crowds and into the bar.

I suppose it's based on the assumption that foreigners spend more money and add a certain sophisticated spice to proceedings. I'm surprised the bars haven’t yet noticed their mistake.

It reminded me of another time last March when a friend and I tried to get into the Israel - Estonia football match. Arriving at half time to a half empty stadium with two season tickets but for different gates, we were denied entry… until we switched into our mother tongue.

Suddenly, as fast as Garinim guzzling fans in Ramat Gan could shout ‘sit down,' we were waived into the stands accompanied by smiles and smatterings of pidgin English.

Being a Diaspora Jew hasn’t always provided such a direct route into high rise Israeli society. A major aspect of traditional Zionism was negating the Diaspora experience and its powerlessness. Zionism rejected the ‘concealing and cowering’ Jews of Chaim Bialik's ‘City of Slaughter’ in favor of the suntanned swimming Sabra admiringly mentioned in Amos Oz’s childhood memoirs.

It’s as if Zionism created a kind of binary existence; Israel good, Diaspora bad.

This theme was picked up at last month’s International Writers Festival in Jerusalem that I attended with my parents. Discussing the difference between ‘Jews’ and ‘Israelis’ with Nathan Englander and Jonathan Safran Foer, Israeli writer Etgar Keret humorously echoed Bialik’s poem explaining whenever he eats at ‘Jewish’ restaurants he fears a Cossack will come in and rape his wife!

He also admitted that he left high school knowing every European town in which a pogrom took place but without realizing Kafka was Jewish.

Keret’s comments were made in jest. But they are indicative of a specific mindset – that the Diaspora experience was wholly negative; one pogrom after another leading to the Shoah.

There's no question that many aspects of Diaspora living were not good for the Jews. Keret wondered whether the reason so many creators of comic book superheroes in the late 1930s were Jewish was indicative of the tension in their lives; the nerdy alter ego who ultimately saved the world reflected Jewish frustration of wanting to be heroic while ultimately lacking any political or military power.

Yet it’s also clear that ignoring Jewish society spanning two millennia – from the Babylonian Talmud through Spain's golden age and Poland's pre war intellectuals to the Jewlicious creativity of the Modern US Heebrew Tribe – overlooks central aspects of what it means to be Jewish.

These thoughts didn't go through my head as Dov and I sat on ‘The Villa’ couches watching those who had chosen Israel over ‘Galut’ unsuccessfully try and pick up Israeli girls.

But I did wonder whether it was possible to break the binariness, to simultaneously appreciate the positive and negative aspects of Jewish life both inside and outside Israel; to recognize both Kafka and Kishniev;

And to find something inbetween the Clark Kentesque Jewish nerd early Zionism spurned and the modern day Superman post Zionist Tel Aviv bars embrace.

Shavuot 5768: Creativity, Adaptation and the Nature of Torah

Shavuot night in Jerusalem is indicative of one of the greatest problems the 21st century poses – too much choice. From workshops, poetry and lectures, in Synagogues, streets and private homes, the Jewish long tail is at its most dynamic on Tikun Leil, when Jews traditionally stay up all night learning to commemorate the giving of the Torah.

Yet as always, accompanying such an array of choice is the FOMO – fear of missing out, or of choosing the wrong lecture.

Two years ago I got overwhelmed by the abundance of choice; after presenting a session to year course kids, I rushed to hear another Shiur (getting lost on the way) only to find myself squashed (and stressed) in the corner of a room unable to hear a thing and within half an hour had dozed off.

The whole scenario still makes me cringe.

Preferring not to make the same mistake again, I was delighted when friends suggested a DIY Tikun Leil – each person preparing a short something to be learned and discussed by everyone.

So following a lovely dinner at Gila’s, the guests spent the midnight hours deliberating over the origins of Shavuot as well as our relationship with God, Halacha and history. One discussion revolved around the connection between the festival and the actual giving of the Torah. Strangely enough, traditional commentators disagree as to the exact day the event supposedly took place while the Pentateuch itself never explicitly links the holiday of Shavuot with the giving of the Torah.

It seems most likely that while the festival originally centred round the harvest, its nature was reconceptualised after the destruction of the temple so as to maintain its relevancy. In the new reality, without a temple to bring first fruits to, Shavuot loses its meaning if that is its raison d'être.

Emphasising the receiving the Torah meanwhile, makes it meaningful for future generations. As Rabbi Joshua Berman commented, this 'refinement' speaks volumes about the Rabbis' flexibility and capacity for adaptation as well as recognition that yesterday’s solutions don’t always adequately address tomorrow's problems.

This Jewish capacity for adaptation was the main reason Tom Friedman gave as to why he is optimistic about Israel's future.

Speaking at last weeks Reut Conference (after I had geekily nabbed him to sign three books I have of his), Friedman argued that despite the problems with peace and political systems, Israel is hard wired for a flat world.

Having successfully moved from Jaffa to Java, we have something that can't be learned – the ability to think out of the box and be creative. It's no coincidence that from start ups to solar power, cars to clean tech, Israelis are leaders in the field.

It's not unreasonable to suggest that this modern success is in some small part based on Judaism's tradition of argumentation, questioning, and openness to a changing reality…a positive slant on the 2 Jews 3 opinions shtick.

And even though today's religious leadership show few signs of living up to the challenge of maintaining relevancy, its refreshing to see how even if its for one night a year, the diversity and latent creativity of Torah study is recreated in a way that offers us a model for 21st century success.

Maybe the Torah (or at least its nature) was 'revealed' on Shavuot after all…

Zionism in a Flat World

In addition to its laid back atmosphere and proximity to the beach, one of the advantages of living in Tel Aviv is the ability to miss the chaos caused by the visit of the President of the United States who strode into town for his second visit in half a year, taking part in the President's 'Tomorrow Conference' and giving a rousing address at the Knesset.

Bush's speech was followed by PM Olmert discussing his plans for a two state solution. In response, one right wing MK quipped that he wished Olmert would learn about Zionism from Bush. A senior Likud MK meanwhile described Bush as 'manifesting' the Zionist vision.

Of slightly less global importance, but noteworthy nonetheless, was our goodbye party at work for my colleague Yonatan Adiri.

Extremely smart, sharp and capable, Yonatan led a discussion on Thomas Friedman's The World is Flat – which argues that the technological and geo-strategic 'advances' in recent years have leveled the professional playing field, enhanced the role of the individual and started processes in which everyone will be racing to the top (even if you're one in a million, there's still approximately 1,000 Chinese just like you). This week, Friedman is a guest speaker at Reut's Conference on the ISRAEL 15 Vision – how to turn Israel into one of the leading 15 countries in the world in terms of quality of life.

Friedman's flat world offers little security. 'When I was growing up,' he says, 'my parents told me "Finish your dinner. People in China and India are starving." Now I tell my daughters, "Finish your homework. People in China and India are starving for your job."

He concludes that only 'agile' and 'flexible' individuals (as well as communities and countries) can stay relevant in such a world.

In his speech to the Tomorrow Conference, Amos Oz discussed the different aspects of traditional Zionism explaining that "Israel was born not out of one but many dreams, including several conflicting, contradicting and mutually exclusive dreams…

Some wanted to renew the days of old, the biblical country, a replica of kingdom of David;

Others wanted to create a middle class paradise, with central European manners and peace and quiet between 2 and 4 in the afternoon;

Some wished for a replica of Jewish Shtetl in Eastern Europe with all its attributes while others were Marxist Jews who dreamed Stalin would one day visit their Kibbutz and exclaim "bloody Jews! You have done socialism better than we did in Russia" and then die of happiness.

Others meanwhile, saw Zionism through the prism of creating a social democratic welfare state.'

Whether we like it or not, both Olmert's and Bush's speeches - one about rights, the other about reality - come under the umbrella of what has become Zionism.

It's not surprising that few of us are completely satisfied with how the Zionist dream has become a living, breathing reality - the nature of (conflicting) dreams is to remain unachievable in their entirety.

Yet the real challenge of tomorrow is how to turn Zionism's diversity (the competing visions of a cultural center, safe haven or light unto the nations as well as the competing values of land, democracy and civil rights, Jewish law, social justice and ingathering of exiles) into a 'creatively agile' entity that can face Friedman's flat world with confidence, and turn itself into one of the leading 15 countries in the world.

How we do this is another question; but maintaining a rigid definition of 'true Zionism' as being reduced to one aspect is not only doing a disservice to the traditional ideological mosaic but is also likely to undermine our ability to survive in what is becoming a very dangerous constantly changing world.

Yom Hashoah: Remembering Death Celebrating Life

The first time I watched 'The Pianist' was in a cinema in Warsaw during the 10 days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur in 2002. Together with other students from Leeds Jewish society I was taking part in what has in many ways become our generation's rite of passage – the trip to Poland’s concentration camps.

We did the usual itinerary – trips to the quiet fields of Treblinka, (where I perhaps inappropriately felt that if one didn’t know the place's history, it would make a good picnic spot) the barracks of Majdanek (which are eerily like a film set), and of course Auschwitz, the symbol of humanity's capacity for evil, the place that forever changed our imaginative framework for what depths people are capable of.

Yet rather than focusing on death, we also explored Jewish life before the war. It still amazes me how dynamic the Jewish Polish experience actually was – that in addition to those learning Torah, the country was filled with Jewish poets, writers, artists and philosophers…all integrated into society, four cities the equivalent of today’s New York…and all destroyed in the space of a few years.

There were of course the obvious questions - of how God could let such a thing happen; of how man could let such a thing happen. And the less obvious - of whether I would have survived in the camps, or whether if I was a non Jewish Pole I would have risked my family's life to save a neighbor (is it just me or does everyone imagine these scenarios?)

But the overall feeling was one of pride - that despite it all we're still here, still standing. Like Eli Wiesel’s portrayal of the prototypal biblical ‘survivor’ Isaac, those that came out of the death camps picked themselves up and build new lives, brought children into the world, moved out of Hannah Arendt's 'worldlessness' and re-entered history. Most refused to let fate embitter them. How amazing to be part of such a people.

The second time I watched ‘The Pianist’ was last Wednesday night, in my Tel Aviv flat, as the first Hebrew city in nearly two thousand years marked Holocaust Memorial Day. There’s a lot that needs fixing in this country. The political culture, the education system, the fact that many find it difficult to articulate a vision of what sort of state we want to build here...We haven't yet created a cultural and spiritual utopia a la Achad Ha’am while the daily sirens around Sderot remind us we’re a long way from a Herzelian safe haven. Surrounded by the hustle and bustle of daily life, it's often difficult to make out the wood from the trees, hear the 'still short voice' through the noise of scandals and strikes.

Yet every once in a while, as the siren we hear indicates the past rather than a sometimes frightening present, its worthwhile using the silence to remember a time when we didn’t have the strongest army in the region, or a first world economy, or a place to call our own.

And be appreciative and proud of a place those 6 million could only dream of.