Menachem Begin, Israel’s sixth prime minister, was born 100 years ago today. A
century after his birth, and more than two decades after his death, it behooves
us all, regardless of our political stripes, to take a moment and reflect on the
profundity of his contribution to the Jewish people.
That claim will
undoubtedly strike many as strange, since more than half a century after he
helped rid Palestine of the British, Begin is still disparaged by many of the
very same Jews who see in the American revolution a cause for genuine
Begin himself seemed to sense the irony, so he spoke time and
again about the American revolution. In an article commemorating the 35th
anniversary of Ze’ev Jabotinsky’s death, he combined two passages from Thomas
Jefferson’s letters to fellow statesmen – one to James Madison and another to
William Stephens Smith. “I hold it that a little rebellion now and then is a
good thing, and as necessary in the political world as storms in the physical,”
Begin quoted Jefferson, adding the American revolutionary’s sobering observation
that “the tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of
patriots and tyrants.”
It was natural that Begin thought about the
Zionist revolution in light of what American revolutionary patriots had wrought
175 years earlier. After all, the American and Zionist revolutions shared much
in common. Both were fueled by a people’s desire for freedom after long periods
of oppression, in which religion had played a central role in their persecution.
Both were designed to force the British to leave the territory in question so
that they (the American colonialists and the Zionists) could establish their
own, sovereign countries – in Israel’s case on the very ground where a sovereign
Jewish nation had stood centuries before. Both produced admirable democracies.
And both were violent revolutions.
Given those similarities, it is worth
asking why many Jewish Americans bow their heads in respect to Nathan Hale, but
wince in shame at the mention of the Hebrew freedom fighters who sought
precisely what it was that Hale died for. Why is George Washington, who
conducted a violent, fierce and bloody campaign against the British, a hero,
while for many, Begin remains a villain or, at the very least, a Jewish leader
with a compromised background? Some of the difference has to do with time. We
have photographs of the two British sergeants Begin ordered hanged in response
to the British hanging of his men, and of the shattered King David Hotel, which
he ordered bombed. We know the names of the sergeants and of the victims in the
hotel attack, but not of the British young men who died at the hands of
The passage of time and the absence of details
have allowed the heroic story of America’s freedom fighters to endure, while the
pain and suffering of those whom they fought has gradually faded into oblivion.
The leaders and fighters of the Zionist revolution have been afforded no such
The fighters of the Zionist revolution have also had the
misfortune of another inequality. Native Americans are not the object of the
Early Americans killed or moved entire tribes, yet
the American revolution is now seldom assailed for its treatment of Native
Americans as vehemently as is the Israeli revolution for its conflict with
Arabs. The Palestinians have been infinitely more successful in their quest for
international support, and the reputation of Israel’s revolutionaries – despite
their similarity to those in America two centuries earlier – has borne the brunt
of the international community’s displeasure.
And Begin’s reputation was
also scarred by David Ben-Gurion’s refusal to acknowledge his own participation
in some of the events for which Begin is vilified. Ben-Gurion consistently
denied having had anything to do with operations that did not go as planned,
while Begin stood ready to take responsibility. The Hagana’s David Shaltiel had
approved the now infamous Deir Yassin operation, but when it went tragically and
horribly awry and many innocent people died, Ben-Gurion painted Begin as a
violent thug, pretending that his organization had had nothing to do with it.
The Hagana was also intimately involved in the approval and planning of the King
David bombing (for Ben-Gurion had come to see that Begin was right, that the
British needed to be dislodged), but when civilians were killed because the
British refused to heed the Irgun’s warnings to leave the building, Ben-Gurion
assailed Begin, pretending that he and his men had known nothing of the
Ben-Gurion was one of the greatest Jewish leaders ever to have
lived, and the Jewish state might well not have come to be were it not for him.
But his greatness notwithstanding, he was unfair to Begin – consistently and
Yet Ben-Gurion was not alone. Begin is, in many ways, still
the victim of campaigns waged against him by Diaspora Jews. On the eve of
Begin’s planned 1948 trip to the United States, when Albert Einstein and
political theorist Hannah Arendt joined some two dozen other prominent American
Jews in writing to The New York Times to protest his visit, they could probably
not have imagined the long-term damage they would do not only to Begin’s
reputation, but to the causes for which he stood. “Within the Jewish community,”
Einstein and Arendt wrote, the Irgun has “preached an admixture of
ultra-nationalism, religious mysticism, and racial superiority.”
Jews believed them. But that characterization of Begin was utterly
Unless believing in God makes one a religious mystic, Begin was
far from any such thing. The Begin whom they accused of “racial superiority” was
the same Begin who argued for the end of military rule over Israel’s Arabs,
whose first act as prime minister was to welcome the Vietnamese boat people as
Israeli citizens, who initiated the project of bringing Ethiopian Jews to
Israel, and who gave up Sinai to make peace with Egypt.
That Einstein and
Arendt, both immigrants to America who had found in the US freedom that they
would never have been afforded in their native Germany, could not – or would not
– see the similarities between the American and Zionist revolutions is
astounding. They saw the American colonists as harbingers of freedom who created
the world’s greatest democracy, a land of unlimited opportunity for those who
came to its shores, but Begin and the Irgun as “terrorists” worthy only of shame
Why? Part of the problem was that Begin’s Jewish
worldview was, in many ways, infinitely more sophisticated than that of his
detractors. He understood that life is a messy enterprise, and that great things
cannot be accomplished in the pristine conditions of the laboratory.
he alive today, he would be perplexed by those American Jews who are despondent
about the conditions of Arabs living under Israeli rule, but who rarely so much
as mention the horrific conditions of Native Americans – whom those very same
heroic American colonists cheated, deported and murdered.
He would in no
way have condoned the treatment of Native Americans, of course; he was far too
great a humanist for that. Indeed, he might well have identified with them,
considering himself indigenous to Israel. What would have saddened him beyond
measure was the Jewish people’s ability to be so intolerant of the messiness of
life in its own unfolding history, yet so understanding of that messiness in the
actions of others.
Begin was nuanced in other ways that make his
worldview difficult for many to appreciate. His was a Judaism in which one could
harbor both deeply humanist convictions and a passionate allegiance to one’s own
people. A particularism that comes at the expense of broader humanism is
inevitably narrow, and will likely become ugly, he would have said. But a
commitment to humanity at large that does not put one’s own people first and
center, Begin believed and made clear time and again, is a human life devoid of
identity. He understood that to love all of humanity equally is to love no one
intensively. Such unabashed yet nuanced particularism, even tribalism, was and
remains difficult for many contemporary Jews, who see in Western universalist
culture an ethos utterly at odds with the peoplehood that has always fueled
passionate Jewish life.
To be sure, it is impossible to read about the
results of the Deir Yassin battle, the hanging of the two British sergeants that
Begin ordered or the horrific human toll in the King David Hotel bombing without
pausing to reflect on the great loss of life, without at least wondering – if
only momentarily – whether there might not have been another way. Begin himself
acknowledged that some of the means were extreme.
But Jews were dying in
Europe. And no one cared. Not Britain’s Winston Churchill, not America’s
Franklin D. Roosevelt. Not even American Jews, for the most part. The British
had sealed the shores of Palestine.
The US sealed its own shores.
American Jewish life continued apace without huge disruptions; American Jews did
not mass around Capitol Hill or the White House time and again, exerting
pressure until FDR dropped at least one bomb on one track to one camp. As
thousands upon thousands of Polish Jews went up smokestacks at Auschwitz,
American Jews celebrated bar mitzvas almost as if nothing was awry. The world
knew, Begin understood, but still reacted with silence. There were ships filled
with Jews, roaming the globe, searching for a place to drop anchor, but no one
would have them.
Someone needed to carve out a home for those Jews whom
no one else would have. Someone needed to stand up for the Jews that even Jews
Begin had survived his flight from the Nazis. He had
endured Soviet prison.
He had made it to Palestine as a Jew in the Polish
Free Army. How on earth, he would have asked, could anyone not believe that
something had to be done to make one small space for the Jews? His life was
about doing something. Those who continue to dismiss him repudiate his tactics,
yet take for granted the existence of the state that he helped
When famed columnist Thomas Friedman wrote, “What made
dangerous was that his fantasies about power were combined with
a self-perception of being a victim ... Begin always reminded me of Bernhard
Goetz, the white Manhattanite who shot four black youths he thought were about
to mug him on the New York subway.
. . [Begin] was Bernhard Goetz with an
F-15,” Friedman failed to understand that the issue was not “fantasy.” Begin was
opposed to fantasy: Why should Jews buy into some fantasy that they had no
power, when they finally did? Why should they imagine that they could not once
again become victims, when others were clearly plotting their destruction? How
was destroying Iraq’s Osirak reactor (which he did in June 1981), when leader
Saddam Hussein had explicitly stated that he was going to destroy Israel,
indicative of a fantasy or of a power fetish? Thankfully , Einstein, Arendt and
Friedman were not the only perspectives voiced about Begin, even during his
life. Abba Hillel Silver, the American Reform rabbi and Zionist leader, had
said, “The Irgun will go down in history as a factor without which the State of
Israel would not have come into being.”
Silver was right. Jewish
sovereignty did not happen by chance, nor simply through negotiation. It came
about through determination, grit, courage and blood. It was wrought not only by
Ben-Gurion and those he invited to that memorable afternoon in Tel Aviv when he
declared independence, but also, to paraphrase Moses, by “those standing there
that day, and those not standing there that day.” Despite the venomous animosity
that divided them almost all their working lives, Ben-Gurion and Begin were both
necessary elements of the creation of a Jewish state. Without either one, Israel
might well not have come into being.
Begin’s complex life was a study in
the possibilities of “both/and,” rather than “either/or.” Born into war, he
never gave up the hope for peace.
Forced into hiding upon declaring the
revolt, his greatest moments were in public, in front of adoring crowds.
Animated and energized by the citizens who rallied behind him, he spent the last
decade of his life out of their sight, ending his life in Israel as he had begun
it in Palestine – in hiding. Hunted by the British as “Terrorist No. 1,” he was
awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. He made peace with Egypt, but attacked Iraq and
invaded Lebanon. Capable of great emotional highs, he was also dogged by periods
of great lows. Willing to use force to expel the British, he was also among the
chief protectors of the rule of law in the Jewish state.
uniquely devoted to the Jews, he gave refuge to Vietnamese boat people and urged
the end of military rule over Israel’s Arabs. Having avoided civil war over the
Altalena, he threatened it with reparations and brought Israel to the brink of
it, once again, when he ordered the evacuation of Yamit. By no means
punctiliously observant, he both loved and honored Jewish tradition. Begin
taught the Jews that love of their tradition was by no means exclusively the
province of the ritually observant, that the religious- secular distinction in
Israeli life could be rendered meaningless by people with a profound knowledge
of and love for Jewish texts and rituals.
Yet despite this “both/and”
tendency, Begin’s life had, at its core, an unwavering constant, a guiding
principle that shaped everything. It was a life of selfless devotion to his
people. That devotion fashioned a life in which determination eradicated fear,
hope overcame despondency, love overcame hate, and devotion to both Jews and
human beings everywhere coexisted with ease and grace. It was a life of great
loyalty – to the people into which he was born, to the woman he loved from the
moment he met her, and to the state that he helped create.
That is a
legacy infinitely greater than most are able to bequeath. In an era in which
many Jews are increasingly dubious about the legitimacy of love for a specific
people or devotion to its ancestral homeland, the life and commitments of Begin
urge us to look again at what he did and what he stood for, and to imagine – if
we dare – the glory of a Jewish people recommitted to the principles that shaped
his very being.
Daniel Gordis is senior vice president and Koret Distinguished
Fellow at Shalem College, Israel’s first liberal arts college, in Jerusalem. His
forthcoming biography of Menachem Begin, from which this column is adapted, is
titled Menachem Begin: The Battle for Israel’s Soul, and will be published by
Nextbook in March.