The Israeli State and Society: Boundaries and Frontiers (Suny Series in Israeli Studies)

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The Israeli State and Society : Boundaries and Frontiers SUNY Series in Israeli Studies Kimmerling, Baruch. State University of New York Press 0887068502 9780887068508 9780585077543 English Israel--Politics and government--Philosophy, Israel--Social conditions, Palestinian Arabs--Government policy--Israel, Israel--Ethnic relations. 1989 JQ1825.P3I88 1989eb 323.1/1927/05694 Israel--Politics and government--Philosophy, Israel--Social conditions, Palestinian Arabs--Government policy--Israel, Israel--Ethnic relations.

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The Israeli State and Society

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SUNY Series in Israeli Studies Russell Stone, Editor A PUBLICATION FROM THE CENTER FOR STUDY AND DOCUMENTATION OF ISRAELI SOCIETY, THE HEBREW UNIVERSITY OF JERUSALEM

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The Israeli State and Society Boundaries and Frontiers edited by: Baruch Kimmerling State University of New York Press

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Published by State University of New York Press, Albany © 1989 State University of New York All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information, address State University of New York Press, State University Plaza, Albany, N.Y., 12246 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data The Israeli state and society: boundaries and frontiers / edited by Baruch Kimmerling. p. cm.(SUNY series in Israeli studies) Includes index. ISBN 0-88706-849-9. ISBN 0-88706-850-2 (pbk.) 1. IsraelPolitics and governmentPhilosophy. 2. IsraelSocial conditions. 3. Palestinian ArabsGovernment policyIsrael. 4. IsraelEthnic relations. I. Kimmerling, Baruch. II. Series. JQ1825.P3I88 1988 323. 111927105694dc19

88-2711 CIP

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Contents

Preface

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Chapter 1 The Crystallization of the State and the Struggles Over Rulemaking: Israel in Comparative Perspective Joel S. Migdal

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Chapter 2 Before the State: Communal Politics in Palestine Under the Mandate Dan Horowitz

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Chapter 3 Citizenship, Nationality and Religion in Israel and Thailand Erik Cohen

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Chapter 4 Jewish Organized Labor and the Palestinians: A Study of State/Society Relations in Israel Michael Shalev

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Chapter 5 Children's Perceptions of Minority Rights: Israel in a Cross-National Perspective Charles W. Greenbaum, Leon Mann and Shoshana Harpaz

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Chapter 6 The Social Meaning of Alternative Systems: Some Exploratory Notes Nachman Ben-Yehuda

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Chapter 7 The State of Israel as a Theological Dilemma Menachem Friedman

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Chapter 8 The Structure and Dilemmas of Israeli Pluralism Judith T. Shuval

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Chapter 9 Between "Alexandria-On-The-Hudson" and Zion Baruch Kimmerling

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Chapter 10 Boundaries and Frontiers of the Israeli Control System: Analytical Conclusions Baruch Kimmerling

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Contributors

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Index

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Preface In planning this collection of articles, my colleagues and I sought to reassess relations between state and society in Israel from various points of view. This issue, which has been given scant attention by Israeli social scientists, has recently aroused increasing interest, both theoretical and empirical, in the international community. The more we progressed in formulating the project and in suggesting and developing ideas, the more we realized that the concepts and basic assumptions which appeared self-evident to us are not obvious at all. Before we investigate the quality of relations between state and society in Israel we must discern the precise nature of the state in Israel and its society. Does the state conform to the conventional definitions found in professional literature? Who is to be included in Israeli society? Moreover, despite the wealth of studies and analytical literature on Israeli society, existing material provided little assistance from a conceptual point of view. Most concepts and conceptions, even among competing approaches to analysis of Israeli society, appeared anachronistic, applying primarily to Israeli society between 1948 and 1967. In this socio-political situation, there was a Jewish nation-state within territory comprising only the outskirts of the Biblical "Land of Israel," with a small Arab minority. Society and state operated according to certain basic principles, well described and documented in literature on Israeli society. After the 1967 war, most of these basic principles were no longer valid. Initially, the new socio-political realities might be viewed as a temporary phase or a new point of departure of unknown direction, partly because of global and regional political uncertainty. Twenty-one years later (constituting one-fifth of the history of Zionist settlement in the region), however, we can no longer view these developments as a fleeting episode or even as a necessarily reversible situation. The anthology reflects some differences of opinion (at times indirect but legitimate nonetheless) regarding the essence of the Israeli society and

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state. Some participants relate only to that section of "reality" which includes the citizens of the State of Israel (Jews and Arabs or Jews alone), whereas others relate to all which can be included in the overall Israeli territorial control system, as a complete system, according to our proposed new definition. Still others extend the system's scope even farther to include Jewish Diasporas in their analysis, defining them as the system's frontier. While the new approaches presented here do not suffice to provide a completely new paradigm for analysis of Israeli society, they certainly challenge the validity of the old one. The posing of questions such as "What are the various boundaries of the collectivity?" or "Which identities and rules of the game obtain in the various definitions of these boundaries?", as well as the disputes concerning these definitions themselves (see concluding chapter), constitute a ''new game" in Israeli social science. The basic question posed concerns continuity among three different periods: From the commencement of the first waves of immigration (1882) to the establishment of the sovereign State of Israel (1948); 1. 2. From the establishment of the state and absorption of immigrants, whose cultures differed from those prevailing during the previous, formative period, to the 1967 war; 3. From the 1967 war to the present, as a mass of Arab residents, lacking civil rights, were unexpectedly included and integrated in the political and economic system. Every society and state undergoes changes and transformations at varying paces and within different scopes. We seek to determine whether the Israeli polity has undergone such changes, especially since the end of the 1930s, when its institutional character and values attained their final form. Alternatively, there may have been two social turning points or "breaks," such that each of the three periods may be analyzed individually and distinctly. A third possibility is that everything was built into the system from the outset and only the proportions have changed. This anthology offers no definitive responses to these questions, which are posed from various points of view. However, readers will find some hints at possible answers and proposed directions of research. Each chapter in this collection is an entity in itself, as each author has his own style and approach. As editor, I did not consider it my job to intervene regarding the content of these articles, but rather to encourage and initiate development of the topics themselves and to provide an overall framework for their presentation. Nevertheless, the volume should be perused

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as an integral whole, even if there is no prima facie direct and close connection among the chapters. Each chapter elucidates a different point of view regarding Israeli social realities, while several consider Israeli society in comparison with those of other cultures. Finally, I note an additional phenomenon which is only partially reflected in this collection. A new and well-formed generation of non-Israeli researchers has begun to specialize in Israel studies, especially in North America. This group, less encumbered by ideological loads than its predecessors, has been institutionalized through the establishment of the Association for Israel Studies. The Association comprises both "foreign" Israel scholars (some of whom have studied and taught at Israeli universities) and Israeli researchers, all of whom aspire towards cooperation and cross-pollination. The former have shown less detachment and remoteness from Israeli realities and are more supportive of Israel studies as a legitimate interdisciplinary field, while the latter have abandoned their Israelocentric approach. BARUCH KIMMERLING SEATTLE, WA, MAY 1988. The editor wishes to acknowledge his gratitude to the Henry M. Jackson School of International Studies of University of Washington in which he was a Stroum fellow during the 19871988 academic year. The editorial work on the present volume was completed in this year.

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1 The Crystallization of the State and the Struggles Over Rulemaking: Israel in Comparative Perspective* Joel S. Migdal Building a Comparative Framework to Analyze the Historical Emergence of States Much of the recent literature on the concept of the state and its role in social change has centered around the experiences of Europe. Authors such as Dyson (1980) and Badie and Birnbaum (1983) have gone so far as to rule out explicitly from their consideration "stateless societies," ones lacking a long historical and intellectual tradition of the state as an institution that embodies public power. They have arguedwrongly, I thinkthat the "idea of the state" is as important as the organization and functions of the state, and consequently European states, which have long intellectual traditions concerning the state itself, stand apart from practically all others. The near-exclusion of other cases from the lively debate on the role of the state in society is a pity. The "idea of the state"whatever the differences in the length of its tradition from society to societyhas quite simply demolished all other conceptions of large-scale political rule. In no previous period of recorded history do we find the homogeneity of political organizational types as we do currently. Throughout the world, agreement now abounds among political elites that the state is the proper way to organize politics and that the state organization should provide the predominant (if not exclusive) set of "rules of the game" in each society. And in cases where states do not make some of the rules, it is still they that *I wish to acknowledge my gratitude for the generous support given me by the Harry S. Truman Institute of the Hebrew University, of which I was a fellow during 19851986 academic year. This article was written in this exciting year, when I felt myself surrounded with warmth and friendship.

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should authorize other organizations (e.g., families, markets) to do so in particular realms of social interaction. These rules of the game that state officials have sought to impose on their societies have involved much more than broad constitutional principles. They have included the written and unwritten laws, regulations, decrees, and the like, which officials have indicated they are willing to enforce through the coercive means at their disposal. Rules have spanned the entire gamut of social life, from registering births and deaths to designating classes of acceptable and unacceptable sexual partners. They have involved the entire array of property rights as well as the boundaries of acceptable personal behavior. Fueled in this century by the notion of self-determination and by the sanctification of the state form as well as the specification of its purposes by the United Nations, the conception of the state has emerged as a kind of inviolable canon of contemporary political discourse. This homogeneity in the image of what states should be lends a strong basis for comparative analysis beyond the European cases. This article takes this notion that there is a rationale for comparative analysis of all contemporary states one step further by asking if and how we can compare the historical emergence, or crystallization, of states. Must the histories of states be written, as has most often been done, only in individual "national" terms, mining the evidence in each case as if its circumstances were unique? Strong national myths, such as that found in Israel or almost any other society for that matter, have subtly and not so subtly supported accounts of the founding of the state that emphasize its "differentness," the special experiences and values of the culture group that shaped its unique character. In the academic study of the emergence of the state of Israel, as with most other new states in Asia and Africa, one finds only a smattering of works that transcend the assumption of a unique national history and historiography. Among the exceptions are Kimmerling's (1983) use of the concept of frontier and Horowitz's (1987) use of the notion of deeply divided societies. My purpose here is not to attack the celebration or analysis of national distinctiveness. A viable approach to the comparative analysis of the historical emergence of states, however, is sorely needed to enhance and complement other studies in important ways. At the very least, it would provide a set of questions drawn from a variety of experiences that might give insights into specific cases. On a more ambitious level, such an approach might also offer explanations about critical differences among contemporary states by using an analytical framework that can compare the historical roots of these states. One of those crucial differencesthe one to be singled out in the discus-

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sion that followsconcerns the varying capabilities of states. Although agreement abounds among political elites worldwide that states are the proper way to organize politics and that state organizations should provide the predominant rules of the game, there has been wide variation in the actual capabilities of states to make such rules and have them stick. Badie and Birnbaum (1983:35) allude to the varying capacities of states, comparing them in their ability to impose ways of behavior on their societies (what they call the autonomy and capacity of states): The progress of state building can be measured by the degree of development of certain instrumentalities whose purpose is to make the action of the state effective: bureaucracy, courts, and the military, for example. Clearly, the more complex and highly developed these instrumentalities are, the greater the capacity of the state to act on its environment and to automatically impose collective goals distinct from the private goals generated within the social system itself. In this situation, the state's autonomy corresponds to a tangible reality. The aim of this article is to present a preliminary outline of a comparative historical approach to state crystallization. This approach can suggest explanations about the important differences in the capacity of states to initiate and enforce the rules of the game in their societies. Israel presents an excellent case study for outlining such an approach for several reasons. First, on almost any overall scale measuring state capabilities, Israel falls among the very highest of the new states and even fairly high among all contemporary states. As an exceptional case, it can help shed light on the general process of the consolidation of state power in the post-World War II era. Second, an anomaly in Israel's capabilities helps point to different aspects of state capabilities, which can vary even within a single state. The anomaly lies in Israel's impressive ability in having new rules it makes stick while having grave difficulty in formulating and initiating such new rules in many social realmsquite the opposite phenomenon from most other new states. That is, the Israeli state is much better at getting people to obey its rules once they are made than in making rules in the first place. This variation can be instructive in disaggregating, or taking apart, the process in which states achieve higher capabilities. In attempting to develop a comparative approach to the historical crystallization of states that can illuminate key differences in their present-day capabilities, I am not treading on a terribly well-worn path. Certainly, at least from the time of Marx, some scholars have attempted to relate general historical phenomena (e.g., the development of capitalism or industrialization) to the character of the modern state. But the concern of Marx and many others was much more to explain the appearance of a certain genus or sort of po-

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litical organizationthe modern capitalist statethan to understand the important differences between such states. One of the firstand still bestefforts at explaining variation between modern states was Moore's Social Origins of Dictatorship and Democracy (1966). Moore's emphasis, however, was on the historical roots of different forms of the state, dictatorship and democracy, rather than on state capabilities or what Nettl (1968) called the degree of "stateness." Practically all other serious efforts at building a comparative framework for studying the historical emergence of states have been done within the European context. For the most part, these valuable works (Strayer, 1970; Tilly, 1975; Poggi, 1978; Grew, 1978) have stressed the internal factors leading to the sorts of institutions (courts, police, army, revenue-collecting agencies) that constitute a modern statewhat Badie and Birnbaum called the instrumentalities of the state. Once again, the variations in "stateness" have been slighted in many of these works in favor of several explanations of the modern state as a unique form of political organization. Many authors also have overemphasized the internal causes for change while underestimating the international factors that played a critical role in state crystallization. Wallerstein (1974) redressed the balance in differentiating states according to their strength and in emphasizing the worldsystemic factors, but he went too far in the opposite direction. In his schema, states turn out to be little more than functions of capitalist development, and important internal dynamics in the creation of state institutions and their capabilities are underrepresented in his analysis. The approach developed here is designed to use the commonalities of all contemporary states as a basis for comparison, while highlighting key events in the historical process of consolidating power that will point to why states have turned out so differently in their actual capabilities. Our focus will be on the struggles that are necessarily implied in a definition of the state as institutionalan organization enforcing a certain set of rules. If the accepted conception among political elites is that states should make the rules to govern even the minute details of people's lives, then the emergence of the state connotes possible struggles with at least three sorts of opponents: old rulemakersthose who had made and maintained other sets of rules for all or part of the population claimed by the state; 1. 2. potential rulemakersthose who at the moment of state expansion sought to make different rules, within or outside a state organization, in all or part of the territory claimed by the state;

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potential statebreakersthose who did not seek to make the rules themselves in any part of the territory claimed by the state but 3. nonetheless maintained an interest in keeping the state from making and enforcing the rules of society.

The crystallization of states has reflected the preparation by leaders of states or states-to-be (through institution-building, political mobilization, coalition-making, and so on) to encounter those opposing the implementation of state rules and the actual engagement with these forces (the struggle for social control of the population). Our comparative approach, then, involves an analysis of the degree of opposition states have encountered from these three types of groups having interests in thwarting the formulation and application of rules. It suggests the hypothesis that the current aggregate capabilities of a state are inversely proportional to the overall strength of these three sorts of actors during the historical struggles to extend the state's rulemaking domain. A second hypothesis is that the distinctive character of a state derives, at least partially, from particular defeats, compromises, and accommodations, which depended on the varying strength of opponents in the three categories of old rulemakers, potential rulemakers, and potential statebreakers. The particular strength of oppositional forces in one of our three categories will later reflect itself in state weakness in a particular realm of rulemaking and rule application. In short, we can better understand the variation between states in capabilities by comparing them in the overall level of opposition they faced in making and applying rules from forces in the three categories. And we can better understand the variation in capabilities in different spheres within states (i.e., the character of states) by comparing the varying degree and kind of opposition they encountered from the forces of the three categories. These forces resisting the designs of the leaders of the state organization, as we shall see, have come from both inside and outside the territory claimed by the state. Thus both domestic and international patterns of stratification have affected the process of the crystallization of states and their current capabilities. Social Control and Strategies of Survival: How Tied is the Population to Existing Rules? In our framework, then, the critical processes for understanding the historical emergence of states and the current capabilities of these states are struggles with domestic and outside groups that can be classified through the categories of old rulemakers, potential rulemakers, and potential statebreakers.

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Before looking more closely at the relationship of these groups to state crystallization, we will ask a prior question: What are their struggles with the state over? As noted above, the conflicts concern rulemaking and application, or social control. State social control means subordination of people's own inclinations of social behavior, or their obedience to other social organizations, in favor of the behavior proscribed by the rules of the state. What does social control entail? How is it achieved? All sorts of organizations in society, ranging from small families and neighborhood groups to mammoth foreign-owned companies, have used a variety of sanctions, rewards, and symbols to induce people to behave in their interactions according to certain rules or norms, whether those interactions have been between father and son, employer and employee, landlord and tenant, priest and parishioner, or any other. Social organizations, including states, have combined symbolic configurations with material rewards and sanctions (means to solve mundane needs of food, housing, and the like as well as to avoid physical punishment, ostracism, etc.) to offer people the wherewithal to devise strategies of survivalroadmaps for effective and acceptable behavior for individuals in a world that hovers on the brink of a Hobbesian state of nature. As roadmaps, these strategies of survival guide one through the maze of daily life, insuring one's existence and, possibly, pointing the way towards upward mobility. They also provide a link for the individual between the realm of personal identity and self-serving action, and the sphere of group identity and collective action, including solidarity built through kinship, religion, ethnicity, or citizenship. From the perspective of the state, social control stems from its offering the components to the population for viable, effective strategies of survival. The more successful states are in selective use of material rewards and sanctions and the more meaningful the myths or symbols they present, the more they can demand obedience and even garner legitimacy from the populaton. The components for strategies of survival and social control are the basic elements of the exchange between subjects and states, and it is from this exchange that states generate power, which can be used both within the society and outside. Through most of human history, however, there have been legions of strategies of survival at work in areas that are today claimed by single states. Territories have hosted a potpourri of different rules for personal behavior. Political leaders have generally found it exceedingly difficult to dislodge rival strategies of survival, particularly among riskaverse poor peasants. One key factor in determining the success of states in their struggle against other groups pressing different rules upon the population has been how tightly those old rules have bound the population. Social control is

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not a constant but varies in different times and circumstances. Strategies of survival that are binding and convincing at one moment may become unbearably burdensome or irrelevant with changing conditions. These changing circumstances that strengthen or weaken the hold of existing rules have often been exogenous to any efforts by leaders to use the state organization for making new rules in society. That is, it may be sheer chance whether the struggle by the states against old rules is launched at a moment when existing strategies of survival are strong throughout the society or at a time when a great many have been battered by exogenous forces. What sorts of exogenous forces have weakened existing strategies of survival through vast portions of a society simultaneously, thus opening new opportunities for aggrandizing state leaders? These have had to be forces powerful enough to cause widespread social dislocation among the population. Factors such as war in tandem with destructive plagues or revolution have upset man-land ratios, undermined resource bases, and made old strategies of survival irrelevant in the conditions of social disruption. Aside from these fairly rare circumstances, the existence of working strategies of survival among the potential clients or subjects of the state has posed stiff resistance to the attempts of political leaders to increase vastly the social control of the state. The present-day Israeli state, with its relatively high capabilities, benefited greatly from historical circumstances that presented it with a population whose strategies of survival had been greatly weakened. Its powerful ally that caused vast social dislocation was migration. Migrationespecially massive migrationcan be as effective a force as war, plague, and revolution in weakening existing strategies of survival. The generation of the Mandate, leading up to the creation of the state in 1948, witnessed a nearly ten-fold increase in Jewish population. The number of Jews grew from less than 80,000 after World War I to nearly three-quarters of a million on the eve of Independence. Old strategies of survival simply could not endure the uprooting of migration. The inability to replicate old social organizations and their functions was true even of families and clans seeking to maintain as much of their old strategies as they could. Among the young (many unmarried) migrants to Palestine, especially those consciously rejecting the dominant symbols of the East and Central European Jewish society from which they came, one was even less likely to find entrenched strategies of survival. The sort of resistance to the designs of aggrandizing new states found among potential subjects in old societies of Asia and Africa, clinging to tried and tested ways, did not exist in the case of Jewish society in Palestine. Much more to the point, new Jewish immigrants desperately sought new strategies to deal with the immediate mundane, and more long-range

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transcendental, problems that they encountered in the process of physical relocation. Leaders of the Yishuv had to address those needs on the symbolic as well as the material level. It is not surprising that aspiring state leaders looked to commonly-held symbols, especially "the continued Jewish identity of the vast majority of the population ..." (Liebman and Don-Yehiya, 1983:23) for use in the strategies of survival they proffered. But even the endurance of such unifying symbols could not mask the deep differences in what and how Jewish traditions should be fit into comprehensive strategies and the continuing desperate search for new strategies to overcome the severe dislocation so many had suffered. In sum, a state's capacities in making and enforcing new rulesgaining social control among its populationhave depended on its ability to have the strategies of survival that it offered accepted by the population. Serendipity played a major role in determining the state's success in pressing its strategies on the society. Where people were tied tightly to their existing strategies of survival, state officials found the going very difficult. But where exogenous forces widely disrupted social life and made existing strategies unbearable or irrelevantas vast social changes in Europe coupled with the trauma of migration had for the Jewish population in mandatory Palestinethose states (or prospective states) faced much more promising circumstances for having their own strategies accepted. The Struggles for State Social Control Old Rulemakers The strength or weakness of old strategies of survival among those in the territory claimed by the state, how tied in people were to the old rules, relates most directly to the struggles of the state against old rulemakers. It was these old rulemakers, after all, who proffered the strategies and rules, which either still stood as the established codes for the population or had suffered through the battering of exogenous forces. Leaders attempting to consolidate power in a newly organized state may have confronted two sorts of old rulemakers: 1) those whose power was limited to a local domain, such as the European feudal lord and his demense, and 2) the ancien regime itself, which sought to make at least some rules over the entire territory now claimed by the newly organized state (or its organizational predecessor). On the level of actual rulemaking and applicationgoverning the details of people's livesthe more important of these two sorts of old rulemakers in many societies may very well have been the figures with limited domains. Social control was most often highly fragmented, with

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many different strategies of survival and different organizations offering the elements for those strategies in a country. In various times and places, these figures were called caciques, effendis, zamindars, chiefs, lords, sheikhs, kulaks, and more. We can simply label them strongmen. These strongmen used their ability to regulate access to key resources to build organizations with significant social control in local areas. Their organizations typically employed a mix of sanctions (including physical violence) and material rewards (especially land, water, and credit in peasant societies) to increase social control. Many strongmen built or strengthened their organizations by controlling key bottlenecks in the flow of capital, goods, and labor during the period of the rapid advancement of capitalism out of Europe in the latter half of the nineteenth century. Although the patron-client ties that have constituted the backbone of these strongmen's organizations have often been considered ''traditional," in fact many have been intimately tied to the spread of the modern world economy. Where such old rulemakers were strong, officials attempting to expand the jurisdiction of the state encountered stiff resistance in a particular realmthe actual implementation or application of the state's rules. The results of these struggles only infrequently resulted in the elimination of strongmen's social control. In a number of cases of state crystallization, the struggle involved on-again, off-again campaigns by the state against strongmen, leading to some state success in dislodging particular strongmen or even particular groups of strongmen but with others quickly filling the gap. This pattern typified Egypt under the rule of Gamel Abdul Nasser, with its nationalization of large landholdings, Campaign against Feudalism, and the like. In other cases of state crystallization, the strong social control of strongmen led to somewhat different results. The struggle in states such as Mexico resulted in accommodations in which strongmen managed to employ state resources to strengthen their own social control over clients. They have thus undermined the ability of the state to direct the behavior of that portion of the population through state rules and strategies. These strongmen have openly used state funds, offices, and so on to build strategies of survival inimical to those developed in the state's capital city. The rules and strategies proffered to the population at the local level, then, reflect an historical, unwritten compact between state organizations and local strongmen, sometimes fairly longlasting (as in Mexico since the 1930s) and sometimes fairly unstable with different groups moving in and out of the strongman roles (as in Egypt since its Revolution in 1952). Only where there have been strong forces causing widespread social dislocation and weakening of the ties of the population to the old rules did states make major advances in their own capacities at the expense of such

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strongmen. In a number of such cases, states triumphed sufficiently in their struggles so that they could avoid such compacts. The states in Vietnam, Yugoslavia, China, the Soviet Union, and several other selected cases were able to take advantage of weakening social control on the part of the old rulemakers caused by the devastating combination of war and revolution to increase vastly their own capabilities in applying their rules. The institutions in Palestine that eventually came to be the core of the Israeli statethe unusual mix of the Jewish Agency, the Histadrut, the Va'ad Leumi (National Council), and the leading party, Mapaihad particularly good fortune in the struggle against old rulemakers. First, the constituency of these new institutions was limited to the Jews of Palestine. Fortunately for the Zionist leaders it was only among the Arab population that such strongmen played any real role in the attempts at consolidation of power (we shall return to this point below). Among the Jews, such strongmen were limited mainly to a portion of the religious community. Some religious organizations, in fact, did work against the Zionist para-statal institutions and the attempts to proffer new strategies of survival, but the numbers of Jews these religious strongmen influenced were fairly limited. For the rest of the Jewish population, few strongmen of any sort survived the process of migration and social change. In short, the struggle with old rulemakers at the local level that so affected the eventual capabilities of many states was much less significant in the case of Jewish Palestine. The Jewish para-statal institutions in Palestine never had to face the same sort of difficult struggle against fragmented centers of social control that so many other states did in their process of crystallization. Powerful forces did not enforce different rules and present different strategies effectively among most of the Jews of Palestine. The entry of the Zionist institutions into this breech resulted in their developing unusual capabilities in the application or implementation of rules at the local and personal levels. Opposition to would-be states with new leaders eager to consolidate power came from a second sort of old rulemakers as well, the ancien regime. The old political organization claiming the entire territory presented important opportunities in addition to obvious obstacles to leaders seeking to replace it with a newly organized state. Whether a foreign-dominated regime, as in the case of colonial states, or an indigenously ruled one, the old political organization had important assetsbureaus, politically and bureaucratically experienced personnel, capital, symbols, legitimacywhich could be of great use in the establishment of the newly organized state. On the other hand, these old regimes most often had severely limited social control themselves, ruling as they did through the strongmen of society rather than through direct application of rules to the population. Simply ap-

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propriating their assets did not necessarily create a stronger, more capable state for the new leaders. The amicable handing over of the assets of the stateas occurred, for example, when the British presented the reins of power to the new indigenous leaders of Sierra Leone in 1961could lead to a weak state as reliant on its strongmen as was the colonial regime that preceded it. Two sorts of circumstances in the historical crystallization of states seem to have led to enhanced capabilities. First, where the ancien regime, particularly colonial states, limited its active, direct promotion of strongmen through material resources and other favors, newly organized states had a better chance of developing direct links to the population through their strategies of survival. Second, where leaders seeking a newly consolidated state had to engage in a prolonged conflict with the ancien regime, they were more likely to develop increased capabilities as they sought to mobilize materials and personnel directly from the population in service of their struggle. In Palestine, the British mandatory state that preceded Israel could have posed one or the other of two sorts of barriers to increased capabilities for the Zionist political institutions. In fact, they did neither. The British could have promoted strongmen in Jewish society, channeling resources selectively to those creating strategies in local domains. The success of the central Yishuv institutions, especially the Histadrut, in devising new strategies of survival for the immigrants pre-empted the creation of effective other organizations run by strongmen along ethnic or other lines, which could have provided such strategies. Zionist success, in no small part, resulted from British policy. British early encouragement and later sufferance of the building of central Jewish institutions contrasted sharply with their policies in most of the empire. Elsewhere, as in Sierra Leone prior to so graciously handing over power, the British behaved quite differently. They actively promoted tribal chiefs, giving them the authority to tax the population, make their own regulations, and adjudicate cases based on those rules. These strongmen, endowed with resources and authority garnered from the colonial rulers, remained important obstacles to state leaders seeking social control even after independence was granted. British rulers also could have posed a serious obstacle to the creation of central Jewish institutions in a manner other than by encouraging ethnic strongmen and organizations. They might have attempted to build in Palestine a strong mandatory state, itself capable of achieving social control among the population. Certainly Britain had the resources and administrative abilities to offer directly the components for viable strategies of survival to Palestinian Jews and Arabs. Once British rulers realized the diffi-

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culty of reconciling Jews and Arabs, however, they quickly gave up on the idea of a strong, unified mandatory state. Powers in the territory, they concluded in the early 1920s, should be devolved to separate communal institutions of the Arabs and Jews (Wasserstein, 1978:16). Despite the often discordant relations between British rulers and Zionist leaders, almost from the outset of the Mandate, the Jews came to reap tremendous benefits from the collaboration that stemmed from Britain's willingness to devolve authority to the two communal groups. Wasserstein (1978:87) wrote, Towards the Jewish National Home in Palestine [High Commissioner Herbert] Samuel pursued a deliberately passive policy: the task of the Government of Palestine in relation to Zionism was merely to create the conditions, political, legal, and (to a lesser extent) economic, necessary for the Zionists themselves to carry on their work; the government would facilitate rather than encourage or direct Jewish immigration and settlement. This had the advantage for the government of precluding the diversion of state revenue to investment in Zionist development. British despair early-on of creating a viable unified political framework for Palestine worked to the Zionists' advantage, allowing them to create a basis for an autonomous Jewish community with relatively consolidated social control. The British, while posing all sorts of obstacles in the path of the Zionists in the 1930s and 1940s, nevertheless removed themselves from any struggle with the Zionists over the exercising of social control among the Jewish population. In addition, those obstacles the British did put before the Zionists, together with their encouragement of the Arab cause from the late 1930s on, helped induce the Zionists to redouble their efforts at mobilization of Jews and Jewish resources for their struggle. This mobilization also increased Zionist capabilities in rule application. The British, then, presented the Zionists with a near optimal mix of positive and negative policies to help increase the capabilities of para-statal organizations. On the one hand, they devolved considerable authority and channeled some material resources to the Zionist central institutions, rather than fragmenting power by promoting numerous strongmen as they had done in so many colonies. By the time of the issuance of the 1939 White Paper, on the other hand, they had effectively abandoned the Balfour Declaration in favor of an eventual Arab-dominated state in Palestine, thus precipitating mobilizational efforts by the Zionists that strengthened the central Jewish leaders' ties to the Jewish population. In sum, state capabilitiesespecially in the implementation of rules at the local level that comes through direct, close ties with the populationwere shaped in great part in the struggles against old rulemakers during

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the process of state crystallization. The greater the efficacy of strategies of survival supported by strongmen in local areas, the more difficult did newly organized states find it to apply their own rules. The old rulemakers in the ancien regime could strengthen these strongmen even further through policies to channel resources and authority that enhanced the strongmen's rule. Where such strongmen were weakened, however, newly organized states had a much greater chance of establishing social control. The capabilities of new state leaders, ironically, could be further enhanced by the opposition of the ancien regime, forcing the new leaders to mobilize resources and personnel directly from the population in support of their struggle. In Palestine, the Zionist institutions benefited from an unusual array of circumstances. These conditions left them with only marginal opposition from strongmen, thus opening the way for direct access to the Jewish population, but with growing opposition from the British (and, as we shall see, Arab nationalists), which provided strong incentives to redouble that access to the Jewish population in order to mobilize personnel and material resources for the struggle. Potential Rulemakers Those aspiring to consolidate new power in the state faced not only the challenge of established social control in the society by old rulemakers but also that of other powerful figures and their organizations vying for future control. Three sorts of groups could fall into this category: 1) those seeking to set up an alternative state organization, 2) those supporting the existence of the newly organized state (or the major goals of the para-statal institutions for control of the territory) but with fundamental dissension about who should form its leadership and what its rules should be, and 3) the potential recruits to the state organization who would implement the state's rules. As in the case of the ancien regime, those seeking to establish an alternative state provided opportunities as well as obvious liabilities to the leadership of the crystallizing state. The nationalist Arab movement presented the Zionist leadership with clear challenges, as both sought control of all of Palestine, and with subtle opportunities for increasing Zionist capabilities. The opposition by the Arab nationalists to any sort of Jewish autonomy was total and unrelenting. Despite all the drawbacks they encounteredincluding the British commitment to a Jewish national home, their own factionalism, and the difficulty of unifying a heterogeneous people in circumstances of rapid social changethey remained consistent and unified in their demand throughout the Mandate for an Arab-controlled state

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in the entire territory. For reasons that I elaborated elsewhere (Migdal, 1980), however, that leadership did not work towards the development of the "instrumentalities" that Badie and Birnbaum wrote about, whose effect would have been to lay the basis for an effective state. They did not conceive of the struggle to create an Arab state in Palestine as one that involved proffering the elements for strategies of survival through central institutions among their potential clients, the Arab population. As a result, Arab strongmen whose bases of control were local drained the nationalist movement of its hope of establishing a strong countrywide base of power. This enfeeblement of the national movement occurred even as these strongmen participated directly in the struggle against the British and the Zionists. The lack of social control by any central Arab institutions visited upon them two related disasters. The first was loss of the struggle against the Zionists and the British. Initiative on the Arab side fell to the heads of the surrounding Arab states, not the Palestinians. The second, of course, was their inability to meet the challenge of civil war and then of international war against the Zionists in 1948. The fact that they could not make the rules of the game among the Arab population in Palestine during this critical period meant a glaring inability to mobilize and organize for war. The tack they had taken to establish a state served them adequately as long as the British dealt with only a thin elite layer of each communal group, Arabs and Jews. With British withdrawal from Palestine, however, the Arab leaders' conception of the state proved wholly inadequate. The Zionists had developed strong social control among their constituency and the ability to field a regular army. The Arabs had not. Their leaders did not prove to be effective rivals for control over the territory. While the Zionists benefited in their attempt to establish their own social control throughout Palestine from the weaknesses among Palestinian Arabs, they also increased such control as a result of their perception and fear that a future war with the Arabs could destroy the Zionist enterprise altogether. During the last two years of the Mandate after aborted attempts to step up active opposition against the British, Ben-Gurion began to dwell more on possible war with the Arabs than on the immediacy of British rule. He contemplated seriously, for the first time, the real shortterm likelihood of British withdrawal from Palestine. Ben-Gurion focused Jewish preparations on the possibility of an attack on the Jews by Palestinian Arabs and the regular armies of the neighboring Arab countries following British withdrawal. Political and military leaders in the Yishuv needed to plan, not only the tactical changes demanded by regular warfare, but also the creation of mobilizational capabilities to support such an effort. The Yishuv leaders, then, felt a strong imperativeinduced by their concern for the coming warto increase the capabilities and control of the organiza-

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tions that would constitute the basis of the future state. Some of these efforts met with success; others, such as the attempt to unify all Jewish armed forces under the Yishuv political institutions, failed. The overall result, however, was increased social control for the Zionist para-statal institutions as a result of their leaders' fear of the potential of alternative rulemakers, the Arabs. During the War of Independence itself, Ben-Gurion pursued his internal struggle for increased state control. The refusal of Menachem Begin to turn over all the arms on the ship Altalena to the state army precipitated Ben-Gurion's decision to fire on and sink the ship. Similarly, the autonomy of the commanders of the pre-state Jewish fighting units and the lack of organizational suitability to the war at hand led Ben-Gurion to reorganize the leadership of the new army, inducing the resignation of the High Command. Amidst charges and countercharges of revolt against the state and imposition of a dictatorship, Ben-Gurion, weighing the grave risks stemming from war with the Arabs, extended the struggle of the state against internal Jewish forces attempting to assert their own rules of the game. In brief, as potential rulemakers seeking to establish an alternative state organization, Palestinian Arabs and their allies failed organizationally to establish the social control necessary to displace the Zionists, opening the way for Zionists to develop significant control in the boundaries of Palestine. At the same time, Palestinian threats further motivated the Zionists to enhance their social control among the Jewish population. Threat of war influenced Zionist leaders' calculations about how far to push the internal struggle, that is, war affected their willingness to risk incurring the dangers of internal instability and even of loss of limited support from certain domestic groups. The dangers in not extending internal social control, and with it mobilizational capabilities, in the face of the threat of war induced leaders to take risks against other domestic Jewish forces pressing their own rules of the game, which they might not have taken otherwise. A second dimension of the struggle that Ben-Gurion and his cohorts undertook against potential rulemakers involved other Zionists who supported the idea of a Jewish state but harbored some very different ideas from Ben-Gurion's about how to achieve and organize it. A variety of streams existed within the Zionist movement, each with its own conception of how to lay the basis for an autonomous Jewish community. Although most of these streams did not openly articulate their conception of what a state should or would be, at least until the Biltmore Program in the 1940s, their actions and attitudes towards the Jewish Agency (the foundation of any possible state in the future) indicated widely different ideas about the nature of a future state. Chaim Weizmann, for example, worked incessantly to build a broad

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worldwide consensus of all sorts of Jews, including non-Zionists, as the basis for Jewish political autonomy. His concern with the future state was much less directed towards its organizational aspectsand the control implied in such organizationthan towards the development of a set of broad operating principles that could serve as a common denominator to unite Jewish elites. Justice Louis Brandeis, to take another prominent example, hinted at a different conception of a future Jewish state, one drawn from liberal America. He foresaw strong Jewish control within private self-sustaining enterprises. A state, in his view, must establish a basic framework of justice within which such organizations can flourish, and it must protect individual rights, but the direct social control to be exercised by the state should be minimal. Neither of these conceptions of the statenor that of Vladmir Jabotinsky, leader of yet another Zionist streamserved as a blueprint for building a state with a high degree of "stateness." They did not propose a state that would or could address the needs of potential clients in Palestine directly. Their lack of attention to creating mobilizational capabilities through increased social control of the Jewish population in Palestine left them fairly weak in the struggle to define and lead the institutions that would eventually become the state. It was the labor Zionists who recognized the importance of establishing firm social control among potential clients as the basis for a future state. As one of several streams within the larger movement, labor's position within the World Zionist Organization (WZO) was at first fairly weak. It gained only about 20 percent of the votes for delegates during the 1920s. Rather than focusing on coalition-building among world Jewry to increase influence in the WZO, labor leader David Ben-Gurion used the early 1920s to spin workable strategies of survival for the small but growing Yishuv population. Institution-building focused on the worker federation, the Histadrut, which claimed the membership of 70 percent of Jewish workers in Palestine by 1926. By offering such services and institutions as health care, labor exchanges, trade unions, education, workers' kitchens, and a bureau of public works, labor leaders created a tap of rewards and sanctions that could be turned on and off to regulate the exchange of social control for the components going into new strategies of survival. They also elaborated a set of myths drawn from nationalist doctrines, socialism, and Jewish history to give transcendental meaning to these strategies. The tactics of the labor movement to focus its efforts on the mundane needs of future clients in Palestine created for it a near-monopoly of social control among the Jews of Palestine. Other Zionist streams, for both ideological and tactical reasons, chose not to challenge Ben-Gurion for social control. The result was that the labor-dominated institutions did not encoun-

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ter a difficult struggle in the post-Independence era against subjects already harboring other strategies of survival. Social control in Palestine also gave labor leaders an advantage during the 1930s in taking control of the worldwide Zionist movement because of the tremendous organizational advantage they had over other streams, especially in Palestine itself. WZO leaders "soon realized they could not build a bureaucratic organization of their own to handle all of the necessary functionsespecially since most of the members were foreign Jews ..." (Shapiro, 1976:7879). The preoccupation of World Zionist Organization leaders, especially Weizmann, with the international mobilization of support may have had an added benefit for labor leaders building social control in the Yishuv itself. Although they had to be on guard against occasional attempts by WZO personnel to demand accountability for the material aid that the world organization channeled to the labor groups, labor leaders had a relatively free hand in using outside funds to build the sorts of strategies of survival they wanted. The WZO served to build a consensus among world Jews for the Zionist enterprise; it mobilized funds for Zionism; and it worked to gain support of important states. It left the question of social control largely to the labor leaders of the Yishuv. With the external preoccupation of the organization, it found itself increasingly dependent on the leaders in Palestine. As Arthur Ruppin put it, Experience had taught us that, the settlements of ours go to pieces as the result of inner division, where there does not exist at least a kernel of individuals with a more or less unified outlook to give the tone, and to assimilate to their unified outlook the other members of the groups (quoted in Shapiro 1976:79). The disinterest of Weizmann and other WZO leaders in the actual organization of strategies of survival enabled labor leaders to play the core role, garnering outside resources while paying minimal costs in terms of their own social control. Even the sporadic efforts within the WZO to demand self-sufficiency of Zionist institutions in Palestine, however, made labor leaders wary enough of possible outside control to work for dominance within the world organization as well as within Palestine. Ben-Gurion thus compromised his adamant opposition to alliances with capitalist Jews in his famous change in the late 1920s "from class to nation" (Ben-Gurion, 1974)a change that served as the prelude to labor's domination of the entire Zionist movement, both inside and outside Palestine. The informal division of labor among the Zionist streams in recruiting and applying outside support worked to the advantage of the labor lead-

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ers, who were building the organizational basis for social control in the Yishuv. They benefited from the international achievements of Weizmann and others in countering the forces opposing the creation of a Jewish state and from the material support, mostly from world Jewry, that the WZO attracted. At the same time, they were able to use such support to build strategies of survival without an undue amount of external interference and with only fairly limited changes in the conception of the state. Besides the opposition of potential rulemakers such as Weizmann, Brandeis, and Jabotinsky representing secular Zionist ideologies, labor leaders encountered serious dissent from religious orthodox Jews, as well, some of whom denied altogether the national basis for Jewish society. The ability of the Orthodox Jews to affect the very conception of a possible future state or possibly to block the emergence of a state altogether stemmed from several factors. First was their sheer size and moral standing within the world Jewish community. Second was their domination of the existing Jewish society in Palestine that the Zionists first encountered in the late nineteenth century. Orthodox Jews controlled many important aspects of life in the Old Yishuv. Third, and perhaps what is most important, British policy during the Mandate gave an important institutional foothold to the Orthodox Jews, allowing them to force compromises in the main leadership's conception of the state. Although the Balfour Declaration referred to a national home and Winston Churchill expanded the national conception in a speech in the early 1920s, British policy at least from the mid-1920s on rested on a religious definition of the Jewish community in Palestine. Moreover, the British sanctioned the creation of authoritative religious institutions with significant control over aspects of Jewish life. The rabbinical courts and the Chief Rabbinate were creations of British rule in Palestine. These institutions were incorporated into the self-governing structures of the Yishuv. In addition, in order to gain British acceptance of the Yishuv's representative body, Knesset Israel, and its executive arm, the Va'ad Leumi, the new Yishuv leaders allowed for as inclusive participation of various Jewish streams as possible, including even anti-Zionist groups. Parties with radically different notions of the proper agencies to govern Jewish society thus became an important part of the new central political institutions of the Yishuv. Later, with the voluntary withdrawal of the ultra-Orthodox Jews from these institutions, partly over the issue of women's suffrage, labor leaders made significant ideological compromises in order to maintain at least the pro-Zionist portion of the Orthodox stream within the labor-led political institutions. As a result, in 1948 the new State of Israel inherited "an established religion and a tax-supported rabbinic establishment exercising judicial pow-

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ers, as well as a religious trend as part of the public school system'' (Abramov, 1976:115). It also maintained its inclusive (proportional) electoral system that guaranteed important representation to the small Orthodox political parties in the Knesset. The proportional electoral system made it less likely that any party could achieve an absolute majority, thus increasing the chances of small religious parties to become integral parts of government coalitions. The continuing presence of these parties in Israel's cabinets has cut deeply into the unity of purpose of the state and the ability of the central leadership to apply many aspects of its conception of the state during the period of state crystallization. If there was one struggle in which the labor Zionists faltered in their efforts to establish effective social control in Palestine, it was in this area of interaction with the Orthodox institutions. Labor leaders confronted Orthodox organizations that had well-defined constituencies with functioning strategies of survival. In addition, the British policies to channel authority and resources to orthodox-dominated institutions coupled with the labor Zionists' efforts to portray the institutions they headed as broadly representative induced Ben-Gurion and his associates to accommodate and compromise with Orthodox leaders. The first effect of the accommodations was to narrow the range of issues of governance in which the state could establish an autonomous position. Many matters of personal status, including marriage and divorce, for example, came under the jurisdiction of religious law, leaving no room for autonomous state initiatives. A longer term effect of the compromises was to limit the state's ability to take initiatives in non-religious issues as well. The labor Zionists agreed to an inclusive legislative system through proportional representation in order to portray the Zionist institutions as community-wide rather than as ones that were narrowly based or sectarian. This system not only gave the Orthodox parties, with less than 15 percent of the vote, the leverage to maintain the status quo in religious issues or more recently to extend religious jurisdiction, it also has been the basis for coalition governments that have severely limited the power of the largest party. The system generally has made it difficult for the state to take policy initiatives or speak with a single voice on major social issues. It has injected groups with marginal vote-getting ability into a position where they could obstruct state initiatives. Whereas single-district voting systems usually give the largest party an agenda-setting role during its term of power, in Israel the accommodations in the struggle with potential rulemakers among the Orthodox Jews resulted in precariously balanced governments that have had difficulty in creating a coherent agenda at all. Rulemaking has been the weak link in the Israeli state. States are large and complex organizations. Although a handful of peo-

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ple and their particular conceptions have in many cases been the driving forces behind the crystallization of the state, they have had to attract numerous others into the organization in order to make it work. Those recruits into the agencies dealing with the application side of the rulemaking process have had interests of their own and distinctive conceptions about what the state should be. These recruits constitute a third group of potential rulemakers with which state leaders struggle, after those seeking to establish an alternative state and those who support the state but with fundamental dissension about its rules and leaders. That struggle is based on two ill-fitting needs: satisfying the interests and conceptions of these potential members of the rule-applying agencies of the state organization while still maintaining the unity of purpose of state founders or leaders. The task of preserving some semblance of the leaders' conception of the state, especially the central myths or symbols that they propound, and of instilling a unity of purpose in state agencies is perhaps as difficult as dealing with out-and-out rivals to the entire state organization. All states have been wracked from within by tremendous centrifugal forces. The question that Horowitz (1983:46) asked about Palestinian Jewish politics involves an issue that applies to other states and states-in-the making as well: "How did the 'centrifugal' propensities in the Yishuv overcome the 'centrifugal' propensities ...?" Ben-Gurion reflected his fear of these centrifugal forces within the agencies sponsored by the central political institutions. Such agencies, he noted, "pursue their own interest instead of being guided by an overall national plan" and each could end up "ruled by itself and for itself'' (quoted in Shapiro, 1976:56). Ben-Gurion's fear, however, was tempered by his need for the cadres who would eventually staff state offices. The cadres were the critical elements who actually applied or implemented the new rules of the game and made strategies of survival attractive to the population. In all cases, these cadres or bureaucrats have had interests of their own. In fact, Kraus and Vanneman (1985) have argued that it is worthwhile regarding bureaucrats as one of many groups in society seeking its own interests. In those cases where trade-offs have maximized both the interests of such groups and the autonomy of states, cadres have been relatively independent of existing bases of social control in the society's non-state organizations and have been skillful enough to execute the grand designs of state leaders. They have identified their own survival and mobilitytheir careers in societywith the success of the state as an autonomous organization. Where social differentiation has produced such individuals, whose primary interests and loyalties have not been with existing civil social organizations competing with the state for social control, the possibility has existed for forging the interests of state rulers and state officials. The struggle

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to build effective implementation machinery has been less forbidding when social groups have existed whose loyalties to parochial groups have been weakened and whose status could be enhanced through the crystallization of an autonomous state. Shapiro (1976) has reviewed some of these early struggles in the Yishuv in the 1920s. He has focused on the tension between those who turned out to be the major leaders of the future state, especially the Second Aliyah leadership of the Ahdut Ha'avodah Party (later, Mapai) with its major personality, Ben-Gurion, and the core of their future cadres. These cadres were part of a younger generation that immigrated to Palestine in the Third and Fourth Aliyot. Many were Zeire Zion-Socialists, who had received important political education during the Russian Revolution and the subsequent Russian civil war. By 1922, the Soviet regime had turned against Zionism, and these young, politically capable socialists found themselves in Palestine, devoid of their former ties to the Bolshevik enterprise. Many of these immigrants had middle class backgrounds and had some sort of higher education. They did not seek laborer positions but saw their mobility in paid party or Histadrut posts. As they joined the Ben-Gurion led Ahdut Ha'avoda Party, new tensions emerged. Shapiro (1976:166) reports how in 19241925, Ben-Gurion seemed to shy away from expanding the party, fearing "to invest too much power in a party apparatus manned by newcomers, not his old associates." Eventually he found, however, that his control of the party was put in jeopardy without the support of these newcomers, who were so adept at organizational tasks. Ben-Gurion ultimately entrusted the building of the party apparatus, which was to control the Yishuv's central institutions, to these young cadres. These encounters in Ahdut Ha'avodah between the veteran leaders and the younger ZS [Zeire ZionSocialist] organizers who had just escaped the Bolshevik dictatorship, resulted in close cooperation between the two.... The veterans needed a party apparatus and the newcomers were willing and able to build it. The newcomers, at the same time, were willing to follow the lead of the older leaders. Their arrival as refugees from Soviet Russia may have contributed to their deference to the veteran leaders.... The newcomers accepted Ahdut Ha'avodah's socialist-Zionist orientation and supported Ben-Gurion's idea of class democracy within the Histadrut.... These two groupsthe top leaders at the helm of the party and the Histadrut, and the apparatus buildersin cooperation managed to organize and direct the masses (Shapiro, 1976:182184). The price that these cadres exacted from the top leadership was not ideological for the most part. They demanded, instead, an opportunity to as-

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sume organizational posts without first paying their dues as agricultural laborers. Ben-Gurion was thus able to build the infrastructural prerequisites to deliver viable strategies of survival to the Jewish population and to expand social control without unending struggles with his cadres about the purposes or modes of administration of the future state. Unlike those potential rulemakers who were incorporated into the Knesset and the Government itselfthe Orthodox politicians who harbored such fundamentally different viewsthe new cadres did not exact a price for inclusion that would dilute either the rulemaking or implementation abilities of the future state. Potential Statebreakers The most direct and often the most formidable struggles for those attempting to build social control through a state or future state organization have been with the old rulemakers and potential rulemakers. As we have seen in the case of Israel, a number of important exogenous forces, including high rates of migration, the structure of the Arab national movement, and the availability of unencumbered cadres, all served to weaken the possible opponents to the increasing control of the para-statal institutions led by the labor Zionists. The result has been that the current aggregate capabilities of the Israeli state have been exceptionally high, especially relative to those of other new states. The difficulties the state has had in the areas of rulemaking have stemmed in part from the specific accommodations made in the pre-state period to the relatively important and central groups of Orthodox Jews. Struggles for state supremacy have involved more than those already making the rules and those who wished to do so. State consolidation in a highly interdependent world has been an issue of concern to those who did not want to be rulemakers at all but nevertheless saw their interests deeply affected by the possible rise of a state with significant domestic social control. The most important of these actors have been outsiders, other states or powerful transnational forces. Struggles that have constituted the formative historical experiences for the creation of control and power by states have by no means been limited to internal conflicts. Outside enemies, of course, can have the most devastating impact on the ability of leaders to achieve their goals of state predominance within a given territory. In the worst of circumstances, they can militarily defeat the state and its leaders and demand the most drastic sorts of changes. Even in less severe circumstances, they can cripple the state's domestic control through war, economic sanctions, and more. They can also aid di-

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rectly those internal groups that are struggling with the state for social control. Ironically, potential enemies in war can unwittingly lead to enhanced social control by the state organization. The aims of the neighboring Arab states to destroy the Israeli state in 1948 and in subsequent wars failed, but their sustained hostility has been an incentive to the Israeli leaders to maintain the highest mobilizational capabilities possible. In an odd fashion, then, the threat of Arab attack has led to enhanced social control by the Israeli state. In short, the actual wars with the Arab states have had very little impact in impeding rulemaking and application by the Israeli state, and the perceived dangers inherent in the struggle have even been motivating factors for Israeli leaders to extend state control through high tax rates, universal conscription, immigrant absorption policies, and the like. The Israeli state similarly avoided the negative impact of possible statebreaking by any of the world's powers. Because no single power could establish the sort of hegemony in the Middle East in the post-World War II period that Britain maintained prior to the War, Israeli leaders could use the competition among states, especially the Cold War, to its advantage. From the U.N. vote to create the state in November, 1947, to its reliance on U.S. support to deter unrestrained statebreaking by the Soviet Union, the Israeli state has managed to avoid the sort of interference in its consolidation experienced by such states as Hungary or the Dominican Republic. International stratification, then, can be as important in shaping the process of state crystallization and ultimately the capabilities of particular states as patterns of domestic stratification. Counterintuitively, states crystallizing in a nonhostile environment or under the wing of a major world power may find circumstances less favorable for developing state capabilities than those emerging in a hostile environment or one marked by power competition. Israel's state took great domestic risks in its mobilization in order to counter the threats of Arab states and, at the same time, avoided the potentially stifling effects of single-power dominance (at least until the late 1960s). Conclusion State crystallization has not simply been a function of the will and commitment of a particular people and its leaders to realize their distinct national goals and values. Potential obstructions to the emergence of a capable stateone able to offer viable strategies of survival to its population and establish

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firm social controlhave littered both the domestic and international settings. State capabilities have risen or fallen as a result of the struggles with three sorts of actors that have been concerned (as has been the state) with the rulemaking process, the formulation and implementation of norms for social behavior. The following chart indicates the struggles with these actors that have deeply affected the historical crystallization of states.

Struggles in the Historical Crystallization of States The above framework provides a basis for comparative analysis of the historical experiences important in the crystallization of states. Internal and external struggles, often shaped by how exogenous factors have affected various groups (e.g., the impact of migration on existing strategies of survival, the effect of the Russian Revolution on cadres for the Yishuv), have in large part determined the ultimate "stateness" of states. Of course, each state's struggles have differed, but the above schema provides a basis for comparing those varying experiences. Our hypothesis has been that the overall capabilities of contemporary states stem in great part from the degree of opposition state leaders faced in the process of state crystallization. Where the overall level of opposition by the three sets of actors has been high during the crystallization process, the state's ability to formulate and implement rules for the population has remained low. And where exogenous factors have weakened or neutralized these actors, states have been much more likely to develop high levels of social control and capabilities. We have also argued that the distinctive character of states comes in part from the accommodations and compromises state leaders have made with particular actors in their struggle for domination. The strength of a particular opponent brings about modifications and compromises in parts of the process of formulating and implementing policies. Variation in the strength of different actors struggling to make and apply rules helps explain the unique set of bargains, compromises, and coali-

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tions into which different states enter with forces inside and outside their societies. In the case of Israel, an unusual number of exogenous factors neutralized and weakened the negative effects of old rulemakers, potential new rulemakers, and possible statebreakers on state consolidation. The overall weakness of actors in these three categories in actually challenging for social control coupled with the labor Zionists' fear of the potential damage some of these actors could do resulted in an unusual opportunity for the Israeli state to build a relatively high level of social control and capabilities. These factors include: 1) the weakening impact of migration on old strategies of survival among Jews; 2) the weaknesses of potential local and all-Palestine rivals, both among the Jews and Arabs; 3) the willingness of British leaders of the mandatory state to grant significant autonomy; 4) the availability of skillful cadres, who did not exact a high ideological price for their participation in the state-in-themaking; 5) the willingness of elements in the World Zionist movement to work for diplomatic support and to channel significant material support to the Yishuv without exacting a high ideological or organizational price; 6) the relatively limited negative effects of the destruction of war on the ability to offer strategies of survival and the positive effects of the threat of war on inducing increased mobilization; and 7) the existence of a power balance in the Middle East, which impeded the emergence of a statebreaking hegemony in the region. The one struggle in which labor leaders had to cede considerable ground as they worked for state predominance helps explain a peculiar feature of the Israeli state. That struggle was with ideological rivals in the Yishuv, especially Orthodox religious groups. The concessions made in order to include broad sectors of the Jewish population of Palestine in the new political organizations have had a long-term impact on the nature of the Israeli state: they have helped make Israel a strong state with a weak government. That is, the state has had high relative success in implementing the social and fiscal policies, the rules, that it has adopted (Sharkansky, 1985), but it has had increasing difficulty in coming to decisions about which rules of the game should obtain in society. As the state's environment has changed, its leaders have found the mechanisms of the state ill-suited to facilitate their adoption of initiatives to meet the new circumstances. References Abramov, S. Zalman. 1976. Perpetual Dilemma: Jewish Religion in the Jewish State. Rutherford, N.J.: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press.

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Badie, Bertrand, and Birnbaum, Pierre. 1983. The Sociology of the State. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Ben-Gurion, David. 1974. From Class to Nation. Tel-Aviv: Am Oved. (Hebrew) Dyson, Kenneth H.F. 1980. The State in Western Europe: A Study of an Idea and Institution. Oxford: Martin Robertson. Grew, Raymond, ed. 1978. Crises of Political Development in Europe and the United States. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press. Horowitz, Dan. 1982. "Dual Authority Polities." Comparative Politics. 14:329349. . 1983. "The Yishuv and Israeli Society: Continuity and Change." State, Government and International Relations. 21:3168. Kimmerling, Baruch. 1983. Zionism and Territory: The Socio-Territorial Dimensions of Zionist Politics. Berkeley: Institute of International Studies, University of California. Kraus, Richard, and Vanneman, Reeve D. 1985. "Bureaucrats versus the State in Capitalist and Socialist Regimes." Comparative Studies in Society and History. 27:111122. Liebman, Charles S., and Eliezer, Don-Yehiya. 1983. Civil Religion in Israel: Traditional Judaism and Political Culture in the Jewish State. Berkeley: University of California Press. Migdal, Joel S. 1980. Palestinian Society and Politics. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press. Moore, Barrington Jr. 1966. Social Origins of Dictatorship and Democracy: Lord and Peasant in the Making of the Modern World. Boston: Beacon Press. Nettl, J.P. 1968. "The State as a Conceptual Variable." World Politics. 20:559592. Poggi, Gianfranco. 1978. The Development of the Modern State: A Sociological Introduction. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press. Shapiro, Yonathan. 1976. The Formative Years of the Israeli Labour Party. Beverly Hills, Calif.: Sage. Sharkansky, Ira. 1985. What Makes Israel Tick?: How Domestic Policy-Makers Cope with Constraints. Chicago: Nelson-Hall. Strayer, Joseph R. 1970. On the Medieval Origins of the Modern State. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press. Tilly, Charles, ed. 1975. The Formation of National States in Western Europe. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press.

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Wallerstein, Immanuel. 1974. The Modern World-System: Capitalist Agriculture and the Origins of the European World-Economy in the Sixteenth Century. New York: Academic Press. Wasserstein, Bernard. 1978. The British in Palestine: The Mandatory Government and the Arab-Jewish Conflict 1917-1929. London: Royal Historical Society.

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2 Before the State: Communal Politics in Palestine Under the Mandate Dan Horowitz There are two possible points of departure for examination of the social and political characteristics of the Jewish community in Palestine: Studies which focus on the impact of the pre-independence communal institutions on society and politics in Israel tend to emphasize the community's quasi-state characteristics (e.g. Eisenstadt, 1967; Horowitz and Lissak, 1977; Y. Shapira, 1977), whereas those which concentrate on various aspects of Arab-Jewish relations in Palestine under the British Mandate tend to perceive the Jewish community as part of a bi-communal social and political system (e.g. Kimmerling, 1979 and 1983; Svirski, 1979). The different points of departure affect the conceptual frameworks of the respective studies. Students of the internal structure of the Jewish community tend to refer to theories and models developed in the context of studies of sovereign polities. On the other hand, students of Jewish-Arab relations in Palestine under the Mandate generally refer to theories and models developed in the context of studies of society and politics in bi-communal and multi-communal polities. The two different points of departure make it difficult to examine the interaction between internal developments within the Jewish community on the one hand and Jewish-Arab relations on the other in the context of a coherent conceptual framework. This chapter is the product of an attempt to bridge the gap between the two points of departure, at least in regard to the study of the mutual effects of integrative and disintegrative tendencies on the communal and intercommunal levels. In this framework, propositions regarding Palestine under the Mandatesuch as that which

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suggests a tendency towards the development of a negative correlation between the degrees of social and political cohesion on the communal and intercommunal levelsare examined in the theoretical perspective of the macrosociological and macro-politological study of societies deeply divided along ethnic, religious and linguistic lines. Studies of Yishuv (the Jewish community in Palestine) society tend to perceive the Yishuv as a "state-in-the-making," a distinct social system despite its status as a minority, non-sovereign community in Mandatory Palestine and its reliance on Jewish diaspora resources for demographic growth, economic development and maintenance of political institutions. 1 This conception concerns issues of social and political integrationboth within the bi-communal territorial and political-constitutional framework of Mandatory Palestine and the social-cultural and politicalinstitutional framework of the Yishuv. The difference between the problems of inter-community integration in Mandatory Palestine and those of intra-community integration within the Yishuv precludes application of an identical integration model in both contexts. Palestine under the British Mandate was a "deeply-divided society"2 with virtually no common social and cultural denominator. Its two component communities conducted limited economic relations with one another, maintaining political relations only through the mediation of a foreign regime. Hence the definitions of Mandatory Palestine's social system as a ''society" and its political system as a "state" obtain only insofar as their minimalistic features are concerned: common territory, citizenship and economic exchange as characteristics of "society" and subordination to a common government and legal system as characteristics of "state." In contrast, this society lacked such social features as affinity for common values and a common collective identity consciousness. Citizens of this "state," who did not even enjoy partial representation in its government, withheld their unconditional recognition of its legitimacy. The characteristics of such a society may be generalized through the model of a deeply-divided society with high potential for inter-community conflict. This model relates to a limited number of societies, of which Mandatory Palestine is an extreme and salient example (Horowitz, 1982). Characteristics of societies suiting the model include a nearly total lack of cultural contacts between component communities and community social and political control over economic inter-community contacts. These characteristics affect the scope of reciprocal economic relations between the communities and also entailed an extreme decline in the common political regime's authority. In a comparative analysis of political integration among political systems, the model of deeply-divided societies with high inter-community con-

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flict potential represents an extreme case of minimum integration. As political integration and conflict regulation are interdependent, the model also represents an especially vulnerable political system which tends towards deterioration to civil war. 3 Hence its features bear a dual significance in the context of a comparative study, enabling both identification of societies which suit the model and their placement on the political integration level continuum. The location of a society on such a continuum reflects its capacity to survive as a polity in comparison with other societies to which the label "deeply divided" does not apply. In contrast, the political integration model applicable to the analysis of the internal social and political structure of the Jewish community in Palestine is the consociational model, which represents an intermediate level of social and political integration. This model is characterized by the partial autonomy of subcultures (which may be ethnic, religious, linguistic or evenas in the Yishuvideological), maintaining a value affinity and political subordination to a common center of authority. Such common centers of authority tend to be of a coalitionary nature and to rely on the politics of bargaining and compromise among dominant elites (Connor, 1972; Horowitz; 1982; Nordlinger, 1972). Nevertheless, the Jewish community in Palestine (even the "organized Yishuv") cannot be considered as typical of the consociational model. The term "consociational democracy" is usually used in reference to regimes of sovereign states, whereas the Yishuv was a non-sovereign community which developed statelike political institutions. Hence there is only partial overlap between the Yishuv and its political organization and societies with consociational regimes.4 To complete the picture of social and political integration and conflict regulation in the Yishuv, we may augment the consociational model with conceptual frameworks applicable to problems of "state-building" and political development. For example, Israeli researchers applied the "center and periphery" model developed by Edward Shils (1958; 1961) to the study of the Yishuv, foregoing mutually exclusive differentiation between center and periphery. They introduced changes to adapt the model to the conditions of a society in which ideological subcultures are formulated within subcenters which abide by the authority of the common coalitionary center (Horowitz and Lissak, 1973, ch. 3). In any event, the difference between the political-formal infrastructure of the integration pattern of the bi-communal system and the social-cultural infrastructure of the Yishuv community system's integration pattern left its imprint insofar as vulnerability is concerned. On the disappearance of British rule, the bi-communal system broke down and the Yishuv's community system became a sovereign state.

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The Boundaries of the Yishuv as a System Two distinct aspects of the Yishuv's status as a unique system may be examined: the system's boundaries and the extent of its autonomy. The boundaries of a national-ethnic, religious or linguistic community in a political system other than that of a fullfledged nation-state cannot be defined in terms of territory or citizenship. The incompatibility between state boundaries (i.e. sovereign authority, defined according to citizenship and territory) and those of the community (delineated by common identity consciousness and nourished by primordial values) is a key feature of bi-communal and multi-communal political systems and of organized national diasporas. Under such conditions, the state constitutes an overall political system, with discernible boundaries and a constitutionally-defined sovereign normative status. However, the community often functions as the focus of primordial political identification; hence the state's authority is not contingent on legitimization originating in the community consensus. Difficulties in delineating the boundaries of the community as a political system are largely a consequence of the voluntary nature of community affinity. The status of "citizen" within the framework of the state is derived from the definition of the state as a system, whereas the existence of a community maintaining an organized political system derives from the subjective decisions of its members. The problems inherent in this reversal of dependency relations between the system and the individuals belonging to it are compounded by difficulties relating to the community's lack of sovereign control over defined territory. 5 This problem becomes even more severe when the mingling of residential areas among populations belonging to different national-ethnic, religious or linguistic communities renders it impossible to determine the geographic borderlines which reflect the demographic division. Under such conditions, community system boundaries cannot be drawn according to territorial division, unless such solutions are accompanied by population transfer. This may occur during an inter-community civil war, as people are uprooted from their places of residence, becoming refugees as a result of expulsion or flight. Examples include Palestine in 1948, India after its partition, Lebanon and Cyprus. So long as a country maintains a mingled population with a political system, whether independent or under foreign rule, community system borders will often not be unambiguously discernible. In Mandatory Palestine, as in Cyprus, there was a dividing line between national-ethnic, linguistic and religious groups alike, although in the religious dimension, the Arab community was further subdivided between Christians and Moslems. The Palestinian population was characterized by overlap of national-ethnic, linguistic and religious, although the extent

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of political application of these affinities differed for the various population groups. This situation is reflected in the distinction between the Yishuv as a defined unit according to principles of ethnic, religious and linguistic affinities and the "organized Yishuv" as a political collectivity with an institutionalized center of authority, attachment to a common system of symbols originating in Zionist ideology and potential for generation of loyalty nourished by independent identity consciousness. 6 Thus, for example, part of the Yishuv, the ultra-Orthodox population, remained without organizational, political or value-oriented affinity to the "organized Yishuv." Their alienation extended so far as secession from the recognized community-religious system of the Jewish community in PalestineKnesset Israeland rejection of the Chief Rabbinate's authority (Friedman, 1978:129145). Other groups seceding from the organized Yishuv limited themselves to rejecting the authority of its political center, as embodied by the "National Institutions.'' The withdrawal of ultra-Orthodox extremists was thus a kind of secession from the community, whereas that of the Revisionists, for example, represented only partial secession within the community, while rejecting the authority of its institutions.7 A further difficulty in defining the boundaries of community systems in divided societies is posed by the existence of organized diasporas, which serve as a hinterland for the community systems. Both rivals for Mandatory Palestine had sources of material and political support situated beyond its boundaries. Among Arabs and Jews alike, such support was linked with ethnic-national and religious affinities, which also affected the definition of the community system's boundaries. Within the Palestinian Arab community, the border issue raised questions regarding the role of a "Palestinian" identity within the broader framework of a Pan-Arab identity. While the Arab regions surrounding Mandatory Palestine did not represent a Palestinian Arab diaspora per se, since the 1930s, they assumed quasidiaspora roles in the Jewish-Arab conflict, functioning both as a supplier of resources and as a source of political support (including military support in the Jewish-Arab confrontations of 19361939 and 1948).8 The ethnic-national-religious hinterland of the Palestinian Arabs was never defined as a diaspora, even though it fulfilled diaspora-like functions. The hinterland of the Palestinian Jews, in contrast, was explicitly defined in Zionist ideological terms as a diaspora, even though it differed from other diasporas in that it was not the result of emigration from the center but rather, conversely, the centerthe Yishuvwas created via immigration from the diaspora. Thus, the borderline between the community and the diaspora was not integral but rather "permeable."9 Moreover, diaspora Zionist movement involvement in shaping the image of the Jewish national center forming in Palestine was manifested in an institutional-formal

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manner. The League of Nations Mandate over Palestine granted to Great Britain recognized the status of the Jewish Agency as representing the interests of the Jewish diaspora in building the Jewish national home in Palestine. 10 This recognition, augmented by control over influx of resources from the diaspora to Palestine, accorded the Jewish Agency senior status among the "National Institutions." Indeed, it had become a kind of government-in-the-making of a community aspiring for the status of a state-in-the-making.11 International and British recognition of Yishuvdiaspora ties and the attendant control of resources bore a dual significance for the Yishuv: on the one hand, it accorded the National Institutions authority even without sovereignty, thus providing for mobilization of the Yishuv's periphery by the national center; on the other hand, it paved the way for organized diaspora input into the decisionmaking system of the organized Yishuv, thereby transforming the diaspora into a kind of extension of the community.12 Thus, the ambiguities inherent in delineation of the boundaries of the Jewish community in Palestine as a distinct social and political entity pertains to the lack of clear defining factors, such as a territorial border and citizenship, as well as the Yishuv's simultaneous affinity for the two external systems in which its social-political system was partially involvedthat of Mandatory Palestine and of the Jewish diaspora. Considering the Yishuv as a system, it may be claimed that the two affinities to external systems complemented one another functionally, as the Jewish diaspora provided Israel with something which it could not obtain from the mixed society of Mandatory Palestinethe resources for growth, which aided it in its conflict with the rival community of Palestinian Arabs. An inverse relation prevailed, however, regarding the intensity of these respective affinities: the Yishuv's growth and reinforcement, with diaspora support, fostered its isolation and introversion, increasing the prominence of the dividing line between it and the Arab community.13 This situation underscores the connection between the two aspects characterizing the Jewish community in Palestine as a distinct social system, i.e., the system's boundaries and the extent of its autonomy. The Yishuv as an Economic, Cultural and Stratification System The autonomy of a community system is measured according to the extent of its isolation and independence. While across-the-board isolation clearly entails independence, partial social and cultural isolation may coexist with some economic dependence. This was the characteristic pattern of most Western attempts at settlement of undeveloped countries during the co-

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lonial era. Once the pattern is consolidated and approved according to the dominant community's values, the resulting social conceptions may resemble those of South African apartheid. In contrast, the dominant ideology of the Yishuv was characterized by the aspiration for comprehensive autonomy. The desired model of an autonomous community in a bi-communal territory was perceived according to this ideology as that of one society alongside another, not as an immigrant community joining the indigenous one as an upper and dominant stratum, with economic dependence prevailing between the two. 14 The actual situation was somewhat more complex: the Yishuv's autonomy was incomplete. Reciprocal economic relations between the two populations were limited in scope,15 primarily but not exclusively comprising exchanges of capital for land. Another form of economic exchange was the limited employment of Arab labor in the Jewish sector of the economy.16 The limited scope of transactions between the economic systems of the two communities precluded the development of any significant dependence between them. In the labor market, there was some overlap between the systems in the construction and citrus grove branches, in which most employees were temporary workers. In the product market, there was some demand among Jews for Arab agricultural produce and among Arabs for Jewish industrial goods.17 Notwithstanding this situation, however, the sharp drop in reciprocal relations between the two economic sectors in Palestine between 1936 and 1938 and their rupture in 1948 did not induce shocks in the Jewish sector, nor did it exert a significant influence on profitablility.18 The issue of interaction versus isolation among the two Palestinian economic sectors was examined by historians, economists and sociologists researching the Jewish community in Palestine.19 The conclusion to be drawn from their studies is that the extent of integration between the two sectors of the Palestinian economy was greater than could be expected according to dominant norms in the Jewish and Arab communities, yet less than could be predicted assuming a free market economy. Each researcher's interpretation of the findings appears to be influenced by his initial assumptions. The question of whether economic isolation conformed to Zionist ideological norms necessarily demands a negative response, as reflected in the definition of the struggle for "Jewish labor" as a "disappointment."20 On the other hand, social scientists whose starting point was an assumed autonomy of supply and demand factors could not avoid discovering marked deviations from the anticipated pattern of economic behavior. Research findings indicate that social isolation and political and ideological supervision which originate in community affinities exert an influence on economic behavior, particularly regarding the hiring of Arab workers

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in the Jewish economy and the sale of Arab lands to Jews. 21 In this context, the Yishuv's import of capital from Jewish diaspora sources was of considerable significance. The capital thus provided covered losses incurred by the Yishuv economy as a result of deviations from principles of economic profitabilityincluding those originating in ideological aspirations towards building an isolated and autonomous economic system.22 The extent of integration between the respective social systems of the Jewish and Arab communities was greater in the economic sphere than in those of politics, stratification and culture. (Differences, however, also prevailed among various sectors of the Yishuv itself regarding the extent of integration between the two communities. The greater the weight of ideological factors in group behavior, the greater the tendency towards isolation. The difference between cooperative and private agriculture is especially prominent in this context.) In divided societies, it is not uncommon to find less community isolation in the economic sphere compared with other institutionalized spheres. In such societies, isolation in the cultural-value sphere is generally maximal, as it serves as a point of departure for consolidation of community affinity. For example, the Yishuv's independent educational system heralded isolation in politics, economics and security.23 The economic sphere, in contrast, is generally better integratedas attempts at community supervision of mutual relations in this sphere generally do not conform with the supply and demand forces operating in a market economy. As a result of these conflicting trends, economic transactions between communities reflect both cultural (and largely also political) tendencies towards community isolation and integrative pressures originating in individual economic interests. The most outstanding reflection of these conflicting trends is the development of a market price for breaking community solidarity in situations of conflict between political community interests and individual economic interests. This was expressed in the higher wages paid to Jewish workers in the Jewish economyin comparison with Arabs performing the same tasksas well as the higher price paid to Arabs for land purchased by Jews, even if uncultivated. These prices resulted from prevailing conditions in Mandatory Palestine, wherein the sale of Arab lands to Jews contravened Arab community norms,24 while the employment of Arab workers in the Jewish economy undermined the ideologically-inspired principle of "Jewish labor."25 Insofar as stratification was concerned, the communities were differentiated from one another in status scales and social reward criteria. These variations reflected differences between the two communities in levels of modernization and cultural and political traditions. Economic-class stratification in both communities concerned ownership and control of capital goods, although the composition of such capital and the

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ownership and control patterns differed. Most capital in the Arab economy comprised land, ownership of which had social significance beyond the market value of the assets themselves (Kimmerling, 1983, ch. 3). In contrast, capital Jewish economy was more varied and "modern" and the share of public capital in the total assets of the Jewish economy somewhat defused the impact of capital ownership as a source of status. Even more prominent were the differences between the communities and their stratification patterns according to political status and power criteria. While the Arabs attached more social status to ascriptive features, the Jewish community placed key emphasis on achievement-related criteria, especially the social esteem accorded to serving the collectivity through "pioneering" activity (Lissak, 1981:1526). Differences in stratification on the basis of political power were evident as well: in the Arab community, political leadership functions were barely distinguished from those originating in traditional-social and economic status (Porath, 1971; Shimoni, 1947), while the Jewish community developed extensive channels for the exercise of political power, including a variety of special political roles (Lissak, 1981:3682; Horowitz and Lissak, 1977:69104). The traditional components of status in Arab society lacked significance for the Jews, whereas status components connected with the central position versus the peripheral one in the Jewish community lacked significance for the Arabs. Only economic status components had some kind of inter-community significance, although even here there was a difference in the weight attributed to them by each of the two population groups. Differentiation between social status originating in economic-class factors and that which originates in location among the center-periphery axis does not obtain solely for the mixed society of Mandatory Palestine. It stands out also in other divided societies. Indeed, location on the center-periphery axis generally reflects cultural affinity of a strong expressive dimension to the ascriptive framework of the community, its values and collective symbols of identity; location of the class-economic ladder of social stratification, in contrast, reflects affinity to values of the economic man with individual and instrumental orientations. In other words: the center-periphery axis relates to a society which constitutes a Gemeinschaft, whereas that of economic class stratification refers to a society in terms of a Gesellschaft (unless we are speaking of a "non-modern" society in which the stratificational hierarchy is anchored in traditional community affinities). 26 The Yishuv Within the System: The Political Sphere The political autonomy of communities in divided societies is always limited, unless they are in a state of civil war. Political order cannot be main-

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tained under conditions of common citizenship and territory without a common center of authority embodied by the state. 27 This center of government may be a foreign (colonial) regime or an independent one; it may be based on imposed control of one community on the other or an inter-community coalition. However, its failure to exercise authority absence greatly increases the probability that the potential conflict between the communities will become a violent one (as indeed occurred in Mandatory Palestine on the departure of the British). There are divided societies, like that of Mandatory Palestine, in which the sovereign center of authority of the regime (embodied in the state apparatus) coexists with community political centers of authority to which the primary loyalty of the community was generally owed.28 Under such conditions, the community center of authority's legitimacy did not derive from that of the state authority (although the latter could be utilized, as the Yishuv relied on British recognition of the National Institutions). In other words, state citizenship and community affinity are reflected in the partial overlap of the political centers' respective spheres of authority, wherein relations obtaining between these spheres do not necessarily constitute an unchallenged hierarchical subordination of the secondary center to the state center. Such overlap is necessarily partial, as only part of the state's population is under the influence of a particular community's central authority; nevertheless, even partial inception of such authority does not diminish its validity among those who recognize it. This situation has far-reaching significance regarding key problems of political theory: the reduction in state authority corroborates consideration of the "state as a variable" (Nettle, 1968), whereas the partially autonomous status of the community accords theoretical significance to terms such as "state within a state," "state-in-the-making" or "quasi-state." These characteristics are not common to all societies divided on an ethnic-national religious or linguistic basis. They generally appear in societies tending towards sharp inter-community political struggle with an inherent danger of civil war. Such societies, to which the term "deeply-divided societies" applies, include not only Mandatory Palestine but also such societies as those of Lebanon, Cyprus and Northern Ireland.29 The common denominator of all features distinguishing between deeply-divided societies and other divided societies is the low level of political integration, reflected in the state's diminished status as an integrative political system. Consequently, various aspects of intercommunity relations in deeply-divided societies tend to become quasi-international relations. The first characteristic of deeply-divided societies to be considered concerns the role of the state as a "security community" in which internal conflicts are settled without violence.30 This function, which is essential to the

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state as an integrative political system, cannot be implemented effectively unless the state maintains monopolistic control over all legitimate means of violence (Weber, 1968, pp. 5455). In deeply-divided societies, this condition generally does not obtain unless the term "legitimate" is accorded a narrow, legalistic-formal interpretation. Communal armed organizations in deeply-divided societiessuch as that of Mandatory Palestineare not formally recognized by the state. Nevertheless, they are often tolerated and reconciliation with their existence becomes part of the rules of the game of inter-community relations. Moreover, under certain conditions, such militias may aid the stateeither directly or indirectlyin enforcing law and order during crises, as the British Army and constabulary were aided by the Hagana during the Arab Revolt of 19361939 (Slutzky, 19541972, vol. 2, Part 11, ch. 46). There werein one form or anotherboth Jewish and Arab militias in Mandatory Palestine. At least one of them, the Jewish Hagana, was subordinate to institutions which were accorded formal recognition by the Mandatory Authoritiesi.e. the Jewish Agency for Palestine and the National Council of Palestinian Jewry. British tolerance of the Hagana andmore brieflythe IZL (Irgun Zvai Leumi, which had seceded from the Hagana and denied its authority) varied periodically. 31 However, there was only one serious British attempt to disarm the Hagana, in June, 1946, after it had become the core of violent resistance to British policy through the Jewish Resistance Movement (Slutzky, 19541972, Part III, ch. 42). Moreover, from the 1930s until the end of the Mandate, the British authorities continued to maintain, arm and finance the Jewish Special Constabulary (Hebrew: Notrim) even though they knew that while these constables were formally responsible to the Mandatory Police, they were actually controlled by the Hagana command (Rivlin, 1962, pp. 3537). Lack of monopolistic control over means of violence in society was thus reflected in compliance with the existence of communal armed organizations which were not subject to Mandatory Government control, thereby reducing the status of the Mandatory Government itself as a common center of authority for both rival communities. A second feature of deeply-divided societies applicable to Mandatory Palestine is the existence of separate systems of parties and other political organizations for the two communities. Political parties in Mandatory Palestine (whether Jewish or Arab) aimed at mobilizing political support in order to gain control of community institutions or its positions of leadership (Horowitz and Lissak, 1977:1921, 2936, 3746, 6892; Porath, 1978:4975). In contrast, in intercommunity relations, such as those of each community with the Mandatory Government, the community political system was generally perceived as a collectivity. This tendency was especially prom-

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inent for the Yishuv, the status of whose central National Institutions had been formally recognized by the Mandatory authorities. Political separation between the communities extended far beyond the maintenance of separate party and political systems. There were almost no direct political contacts between the communities; political relations between Jews and Arabs were mediated by the British authorities, as both sides sought to influence British policy. The Mandatory Government failed in its repeated attempts to find a representative formula enabling establishment of a legislative council comprising representatives of the population. Consequently, no joint representative political frameworks were set up for the two communities (Rose, 1976). In the mixed local authorities, such as those of Jerusalem and Haifa, municipal councils were elected on the basis of a pre-determined ratio of Jews and Arabs for each election, without the Jews being able to influence the makeup of the Arab representation or vice versa. This situation represented both the deep political conflict between the communities and the social alienation between them. The issues of the Jewish-Arab struggleJewish immigration which constantly changed the demographic ratio in favor of the Jews, acquisition of land, political representationreflected a confrontation between diametrically opposed nationalcommunity objectives. As both sides strove for a future position of control in Palestine within the boundaries of the Mandate, the struggle was perceived as a kind of "zero-sum" conflict in which each side benefits from the losses of the other. Under such conditions, community affinities dominated, blocking the emergence of bicommunal organizationseven on the basis of limited instrumental interests (perhaps one exception to this rule is the strike of civilian workers for the British Army during World War II). Even the anti-Zionist Communist Party did not succeed in maintaining its joint Jewish-Arab framework for too long; when it emerged from the underground during World War 11, it was divided according to national-community lines (Israeli, 1953). Mutual social and cultural alienation between the Arab and Jewish populations was likewise reflected in the respective communities' political organizations. The political party systems of the two communities were not only distinct but also different from one another: "politics of notables," with no clear differentiation between political rules and social ones (originating in family ties and property ownership) versus institutionalized parties led by professional politicians; a weak community political center based on representation by pre-ordained factions of notables versus elected representative institutions formally recognized by the Mandatory Government; reliance on external factors, such as rulers of Arab countries and the Mandatory Government and use of terror in regulating internal conflicts, versus conflict regulation through institutionalized rules of the game based on electoral repre-

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sentation and bargaining and compromise within the framework of coalitionary politics (Horowitz and Lissak, 1977:1636, 3768; Porath, 1978:4979, 249260). The separation between Jewish and Arab political party systems in Palestine transformed the British Mandatory Government into the only common political framework for the two communities. This regime, however, was limited in function and in its ability to enforce its authority, as reflected in its failure to maintain exclusive control over means of violence in society. This and other constraints on the central government of Mandatory Palestine has origins in Britain's effective compliance with its inability to obtain full and unconditional legitimization from the local population. The partial and conditional legitimacy accorded to a regime is thus a third characteristic of deeply-divided societies which prevailed in Mandatory Palestine. 32 The legitimization accorded to the Mandatory Government by both communities was indeed partial, and was confined to certain functions of government only. For example, the government's duty to preserve "law and order" was legitimized in criminal contexts but not always in political ones.33 Moreover, the Jewish population withheld legitimization of any bi-communal normative base by establishing its own school system, thus almost entirely eliminating Jewish reliance on Mandatory educational services.34 The legitimization which both components of the population accorded to the government was not only partial but also conditional.35 It was denied the government when its policies did not fulfill the community expectations (i.e. it was perceived as favoring the rival community too heavily). The Arab Revolt of 19361938 and the Jewish struggle of 19461947 indicated that legitimization of the Mandatory regime was contingent on conformity of interests between it and each of the rival communities, in other words, the granting of legitimacy to the government was mediated by the community leadership and controlled through community norms. Three features of the political system of Mandatory Palestine thus single it out as a deeply-divided society: limited legitimization of the authorities, lack of monopolistic control over means of violence and community-based political party systems. The common denominator among these characteristics is a low level of political integration. This implies that deeply-divided societies such as that of Mandatory Palestine reflect a low level of political integration, assuming a continuum between maximum political integrationas represented by full-fledged nation-statesand minimal integration, represented by a weak system of international relations. It has more in common with the latter; indeed, many aspects of intercommunity relations resemble those of international relations.36 Community isolation trends in Yishuv society are even more prominent

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in a dynamic analysis than in a static one. As it grew demographically, the Yishuv became more autonomous in all spheres: Hebrew became the language of everyday speech and education and its proliferation intensified cultural autonomy. The development of the Jewish economy since the Fifth Aliyah reduced the dependence of the Jewish sector of the economy on labor. The tendency towards ecological isolation was manifested in separate residential areas for Arabs and Jews, even in mixed cities. 37 Tel-Aviv was severed from Jaffa, the agricultural villages (moshavot) became cities and separate Jewish neighborhoods were established in mixed cities. The demographic growth of the Yishuvnot only in absolute terms but also relative to the Arab populationwas accompanied by a reduction in reciprocal social relations with the latter. The development of Yishuv political institutions created a wideranging political structure which limited its dependence on the diaspora Zionist Movement during the 1930s and gradually severed its association with the Mandatory Government during the 1940s. "Illegal" immigration, active Jewish resistance, the extension of Zionist and Yishuv diplomatic activity beyond relations with the British Government and the Palestinian Arabs, the imposition of a tax on the Jewish community (Horowitz, 1954:140), the issuing of draft orders and the eventual seizing of areas vacated by the British Army even before the end of the Mandate (Slutzky, 19541972, Part III, Book 2) all brought to a climax the Yishuv's separation from the social, economic and political systems of bicommunal Mandatory Palestine. The events of 1948 had put to the test the political viability of Yishuv society and the organized Yishuv as its institutional backbone. British abandonment of control without transfer of authority to a successor, coupled with the flight of hundreds of thousands of Arabs from areas falling under Jewish control transformed the Yishuv into a virtually autonomous political system even before the establishment of the State of Israel on May 14, 1948. On the other hand, the official establishment of the State of Israel, which accorded a formal seat of approval to this autonomy, did not complete the process of transition from Yishuv to state. Adjustment of the institutional-political system to this change lasted for several months after May 1948 (Horowitz and Lissak, 1977:186210; Pail, 1979:276344). The operative significance of the declaration of the State of Israel on May 14, 1948 was thus secondary to its historical-symbolic meaning. Nevertheless, the end of the British Mandate represents a turning point in the Arab-Jewish struggle for Palestine, as it marks the commencement of invasion of Palestine by the Arab states, thereby transforming the inter-community struggle into an international one. The struggle's community-oriented dimension was then relegated to subordinate status, remaining so for many

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years subsequently (until the 1967 war and the ensuing occupation of the West Bank of the Jordan and the Gaza Strip). The Yishuv's Political System The gradual transition from Yishuv to statewith no sharp institutional turning point engendered by declaration of independent statehoodconforms with the conception of Israeli society as the historical continuation of Yishuv society. The study of the Yishuv as a distinct society raises problems of social and political integration and conflict regulation, while examination of the extent of the Yishuv's autonomy raises similar questions in the broader context of bi-communal Mandatory Palestine. There is a connection between problems of social and political integration in the two contexts, expressed as a positive correlation between the extent of cohesion of the community framework and the scope of its autonomy and as a negative correlation between the first two factors and the extent of cohesion of the bi-communal, mixed society. In other words, the more cohesive the Jewish community in Palestine, the greater its tendency towards isolation from the bi-national system of Mandatory Palestine. This tendency had already been observed by the Peel Commission in 1937, which described ''Palestinian citizenship" as a "formula devoid of moral meaning." 38 Political integration is strongly correlated with the development of mechanisms for regulation of internal conflicts. Such mechanisms prevailed in the Yishuv, which had developed a quasiconsociational political culture of bargaining and compromise within the framework of a national coalitionary center (Gutmann, 1977). In contrast, conflict resolution in the framework of bi-communal Mandatory Palestine was based on control of a colonial regime. The British, who were unable to establish a legislative body which included representatives of the population, had thus resorted to direct rule. This situation may also be interpreted in terms of the relative status of centers of political authority inspired by the Yishuv and Mandatory Palestine, respectively. The Jewish population of Palestine was simultaneously subjected to two centers of authority based on different kinds of legitimization, wherein the authority of the community-oriented centeras manifested in the National Institutionsdetracts from that of the common, bi-communal center.39 Affinity for the community-oriented center thus bears a dual significance: on the one hand, it aids in controlling internal conflicts within the community, while on the other, it enables some degree of community control of inter-community relations. Hence intensification of affinity by the Jewish population of Mandatory Palestine for the National Institu-

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tions was accompanied by a marked reduction in this population's reliance on Mandatory Government institutions. This phenomenon was demonstrated most prominently in the spheres of education and health, in which the Jewish population required virtually no Mandatory Government services whatsoever. In this context, the limited legitimacy to which the British Government reconciled itself was instrumental in reinforcing the legitimacy of the organized Yishuv. The Yishuv's integration pattern was influenced by its status as a minority community in a bi-communal system and by the Jewish-Arab conflict for the future of the territory in which they lived side by side. However, it was also influencedperhaps to no less an extentby the unique character of the Yishuv as a community of immigrants in formation. Unlike most other ethnonational linguistic and religious communities, the Yishuv was a kind of new society whose social, economic and cultural character reflected the imprint of various waves of immigration. Therefore, several of the characteristics of the collective identity of this unique communityliving in the Land of Israel (i.e. Palestine), Hebrew as a spoken language, the secular-national symbols of Zionismdid not reflect traditional, longstanding behavioral patterns, but rather originate in individual choice among the various alternative ideological "movements" which competed with one another in the diaspora. Under such conditions, the collective identity, symbols of communal affiliation and the legitimacy of the political center are not self-evident but are rather contingent on the people's response to challenges posed by ideological alternatives. Consequently, a high premium is placed on the collectivity's successful achievementhowever partialof the objectives implied by the ethos on which its collective identity is based (Eisenstadt, 1967:16; 1976; 1977; Horowitz and Lissak, 1977:120122, 154156). The collective identity consciousness which originates in a common ethos constituted the point of departure for the formation of a Yishuv national center. However, it was not sufficient to ensure the ordinary functioning of conflict regulation mechanisms providing for social and political integration. Internal cleavages in the Yishuv were highly prominent: cultural cleavages based on differences in country of origin and cultural background; conflicts between religious and non-religious and ideological cleavages. Ideological cleavages were prominent in Yishuv society, which was formed by ideologically-inspired and politically committed immigrants. The intensity of ideological and political activity was also nourished by the consciousness of building a new society and the desire to stamp an ideological imprint on the nascent social structure. Students of Yishuv society were thus faced with the following questions: Howdespite cultural and ideological cleavagesdid the "centripe-

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tal" trends in the Yishuv prevail over "centrifugal" ones? Why has the history of the Yishuv during the British Mandate era emerged as a virtually continuous process of growth, integration and intensification of community autonomy? These questions may be answered through examination of the development of the Jewish community in Palestine as a distinct political entity whose core was the institutional system of the "organzied Yishuv" (Eisenstadt, 1977:932). These factors have one prominent common denominator: most were directly or indirectly connected with the Yishuv's affinity for the diaspora as a source of manpower (immigrants), capital resources (the national funds), political support (influence on those who grant international recognition), value orientations (the immigrants' ideological commitment) and cultural traditions (a model of community organization). The intensity of Arab hostility, too, was affected by the Yishuv's affinity for the diaspora, which facilitated the demographic and economic growth of the Yishuv, thus changing power ratios between Jews and Arabs in Palestine. Arab efforts to protect the Arab character of Palestine failed repeatedly because of inputs from the diaspora which augmented Yishuv resources. Arab anti-Jewish riots thus generally broke out after waves of immigration (19201921, 19361939) or in the wake of Jewish recovery after a decline in immigration and import of resources (1929) (Porath, 1974, 1978; Shimoni, 1947). The Yishuv's reliance on Zionist settlement in Palestine is a unique feature of this non-sovereign community. In contrast, the political-institutional integration pattern resulting from it maintains features which are largely shared with other societies. This pattern resembles the "consociational democracy" model, developed by European political scientists and sociologists to describe the political regimes of several small Western European states (Lijphart, 1969, 1971; Daalder, 1971, 1974). The characteristics shared by consociational political systems in sovereign states and the non-sovereign political system of the organized Yishuv include: rules of the game involving bargaining and compromise rather than majority rule; autonomy of subcultures as institutionalized "enclaves" within the framework of which political or ideological movements develop their distinct subcultures; a common coalitionary political center whose authority represents the national values shared by the various subcultures; allocation of resources according to a proportional political "key" (Horowitz and Lissak, 1977:213230; Gutmann, 1977). Alongside these similarities between consociational democracies and the organized Yishuv, there are also outstanding differences, resulting from the organized Yishuv's quasi-state characteristics. The status of the Yishuv as a non-sovereign community was reflected by the voluntary nature of its

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political organization and the limited authority of its central institutions. However, voluntarism adversely affected the authority of the political center, although it did facilitate bargaining and compromise by creating motivation for attainment of coalitionary agreements preventing the secession of minority groups. 40 The limitations on exercise of communal authority likewise constituted both a liability and an asset: on the one hand, they adversely affected legitimization of the central authority, which could not impose effective sanctions on political dissenters.41 On the other hand, the refusal of dissenting groups to abide by the communal leadership's authority lessened pressure on the pool of available resources allocated to groups which were party to coalitionary arrangements. Even the lack of a constitution had its positive aspects: while it indeed rendered the Yishuv's political rules of the game vague and not fully binding, it also released the national center from the obligation to make the fundamental value-based decisions which no sovereign constitutional state can avoid. The most outstanding issue of this kindthe status of religion in societywas not resolved constitutionally even after the establishment of the State of Israel. Moreover, attempts to sidestep it have postponed enactment of an overall State constitution.42 Thus lack of sovereignty facilitated the development of coalitionary arrangements in the political center and fostered a preference for bargaining and compromise over majority rule as a pattern for decision-making. In this framework, movement-oriented subcenters functioned as components of the organized Yishuv's political system (Eisenstadt, 1967:3458; Horowitz and Lissak, 1977:69104; Shapira, 1977:127134). These subcentersmost of which maintained organizational or ideological affinity for political partiesaccorded operative significance to membership in the organized Yishuv. They provided individuals in the Yishuv with access channels to the pool of resources controlled by the national center; immigration certificates were distributed through political parties and movements to their members in the diaspora,43 while capital for development and land for settlement were likewise generally allocated through organized bodies connected with movements or parties (World Zionist Organization, 1971; Horowitz and Lissak, 1977:176177). In other words, lacking a constitutional framework to stipulate the rights of the individual visa-vis the system, the individual could realize his "citizenship" in the organized Yishuv virtually exclusively through membership in a movement or party organization. Individual affinities for political movements or parties were thus often based not only on ideological commitment but also on a need for instrumental services as "sub-agents" of the national center. Labor settlements, whose population constituted the most politically mobilized group in the Yishuv, represent an outstanding example of this combina-

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tion of ideological commitment and instrumental affinity. The choice of a cooperative way of life generally reflected ideological commitment resulting from political socialization in a youth movement, whereas realization of this choice could only be accomplished in the framework of a settlement movement of a particular ideological-political inclination (Eisenstadt, 1967: 2733; 3850; Weintraub, Lissak and Atzmon, 1969). Participation in the national center transcended ideological-movement differences through appealing to a common Zionist denominator, the core of which was the aspiration for establishment of a Jewish national home through immigration to Palestine, settlement therein and formulation of an autonomous community. These aspirations were reflected in common identity symbols which reinforced the authority of the national center vis-a-vis the various subcenters (Eisenstadt, 1967:16, 4445). Just as the common denominator among subcultures was ideological, so too were the cleavages which differentiated among them and constituted a starting point for formation of movement subcenters. These ideological differences engendered differential evaluations of the relative importance of the various resources and rewards. Paradoxically, such differences actually aided in securing coalitionary cooperation conforming with the consociational model. In political exchanges involving bargaining and compromise, lower-valued resources could be exchanged for highervalued ones if one subculture had inverse or even merely different values from another. 44 Relations between Mapai and the religious Zionist parties, particularly the labor branch of the Mizrachi Movement, Hapoel Hamizrachi, constitute the most outstanding example of such exchanges. These coalitionary relationships enabled Mapai to reinforce Histadrut (Labor Federation) control over the labor market, whereas the religious partner in the deal was satisfied with concessions on various issues concerning the status of religion in society (Ben-Gurion, 1968:123126). Such transactions raise a theoretical problem, as their rationale is incompatible with the assumption that in conditions of scarcity of resources, one side to a bargain apparently benefits from the other's loss (a zero-sum situation). This situation concerned students of consociational democracies in Europe.45 They concluded that the rationale for consociational arrangements is inherent in the common interest of the elites of the various political parties, which seek political stability. This elite interest apparently prevails over the interests of the parties' rank and file. The exchange of less valuable resources in terms of subjective utilities for more valuable ones provides an explanation of broader significance for political exchanges in democratic regimes.46 Furthermore, it sheds light on an issue which puzzled researchers of political coalitions, whose empirical studies repeatedly noted deviations from the principle of "minimally winning coalitions," presented

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in coalition theory as the preferred normative solution, assuming a rational leadership unaffected by ideology. 47 In this context as well, mutually beneficial bargains based on varied subjective utilities may facilitate the formation of broader political coalitions. The Yishuv case thus conforms with the claim that political exchanges under conditions of value pluralism may be explained rationally, wherein the point of departure comprises the various subjective utilities facilitating transactions in which both sides feel adequately rewarded.48 In any event, it may be assumed that political deals are undertaken because the parties to the exchanges do not perceive the relations between them as zero-sum; in explaining the behavior of political leaders, what matters is their subjective perceptions of reality. The non-zero-sum conception of resource allocation in the Yishuv was also influenced by the import of capital and by immigration, which boosted the reserve of external resources (capital and manpower alike) available for allocation. The resources available at each stage of the Yishuv's development were limited; in this respect, zero-sum relations prevailed among clients of the system. However, as resources were not taken directly from the domain of one group and transferred to that of another, but rather "imported from outside," feelings of deprivation resulting from denial of one resource or another remained subdued. This phenomenon explains why cooperation based on bargaining and compromise increased concomitantly with supply of external resources.49 The political culture of bargaining and compromise was dominant in the framework of the organized Yishuv only. The national center's policies regarding movements and parties outside the organized Yishuv alternated between partial cooperation and attempts to exercise control over them by applying sanctions. This inconsistent policy reflected the limits of political integration in a non-sovereign community system. For example, during the two-year period between 1944 and 1946, the organized Yishuv adopted two diametrically opposed policy lines towards the challenge to its authority posed by the activities of dissident armed organizations which rejected the authority of the National Institutions. These activities adversely affected the status of the Hagana as a kind of "army-in-the-making" of the state-in-the-making and ipso facto detracted from the authority of the National Institutions to which the Hagana was responsible. Hence in 1944, the organized Yishuv attempted to impose sanctions on the Irgun in a campaign known as the "Season" (Slutzky, 19541972, Part 11, ch. 27; Begin, 1951; Niv, 1967, vol. IV, pp. 96124). Within less than two years, political exigencies compelled the replacement of this policy by a cooperation agreement within the framework of the Jewish Resistance Movement (Slutzky 19541972, III, ch. 3; Niv 1967, vol. IV, pp. 179192). Both the

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"Season" and the Jewish Resistance Movement underscored the limitations of the organized Yishuv as a communal political system devoid of the sanctions available to a sovereign state. During the "Season," the organized Yishuv resorted to cooperation with British law enforcement agencies in order to supervise sectors of the Yishuv community which did not accept the authority of its institutions (Shavit, 1976), whereas in the period of the Jewish Resistance Movement, the Hagana's right to veto the activities of the splinter armed organizations was secured through compliance with their existence. 50 Control over armed forces capable of implementing organized violence thus constituted the focus of the organized Yishuv's authority-without-sovereignty problem in two contexts: autonomy with the bi-communal framework of the Mandatory regime and imposition of the communal leadership's authority on the community. In several respects, the Yishuv's center of authority was more effective than that of the Mandatory Government because it was capable of rallying community solidarity during periods of inter-community crisis (Kimmerling, 1976). However, this feature, too, had its price, namely reconciliation with a limited applicability of authority over dissident, near-dissident and marginal subgroups of the Yishuv. The organized Yishuv's field of authority represents the middle level of three interconnected application strata. The lowest level pertains to application of political authority by the subcenters (or "enclaves). The uppermost and most comprehensive level concerns application of state authority by the Mandatory Government to the entire population of Palestine. However, the scope of the Mandatory Government's authority and its formal sovereign status did not suffice to ensure effective functioningeven as a regime with a laissez-faire approach. Its limitations, resulting from the inter-community struggle (including the existence of communal armed organizations), engendered the emergence of community centers of authority, especially the Jewish one embodied by the organized Yishuv.51 The gap between formal and effective authority was less prominent in relations between the Yishuv center of authority and its affiliated subcenters. The organized Yishuv's limited formal authority was based on formal recognition by the Mandatory authorities and the League of Nations, but the National Institutions applied their authority far beyond the spheres defined by the Mandate or the Religious Communities Ordinance.52 However, the control exerted by the community-based authority over its subcenters was more effective greater than that of the Mandatory authorities over the Jewish community in Palestine and its National Institutions (Horowitz and Lissak, 1977:5259, 161164). The differences in effectiveness between the Mandatory and Yishuv centers of authority relate to differences between the dominant cleavages and po-

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litical integration patterns in bi-communal and community systems, respectively. In the bi-communal system, the dominant schism constitutes an ethno-national, religious and linguistic division among communities, relating to primordial symbols of identity. By contrast, the dominant cleavages in the Yishuv were ideological and stratificational, devoid of the symbolic residues accompanying such cleavages in societies with an entrenched class system. 53 From a methodological point of view, we may query the comparison between intracommunity and intercommunity political integration patterns. The Jewish community may be considered a part of the Mandatory Government's domain of authority; hence the part cannot be compared with the whole. Nevertheless, the nature of political integration patterns in the organized Yishuv, which resemble those of a consociational democratic regime, reflect the similarity between the Yishuv and some sovereign political systems. Moreover, many of the components of this pattern were preserved in the transition from Yishuv to state. Hence even if some doubt may be cast on the methodological legitimacy of comparing political integration in the two, there is some significance to comparison of the consociational model of political integration and the "control" model prevailing in most societies under foreign rule (Lustick, 1979). The common feature of the consociational model and that of control in conditions of minimal political integration is the partial division of political authority between a center common to a comprehensive system and the political centers of component subsystems (Lustick, 1979). There are, however, significant differences between them as well. The common center in the consociational model is coalitionary in nature and is generally based on joint identity consciousness extending beyond subcultural differences.54 In contrast, the common center in deeply-divided bicommunal systems is generally external to the system, such as foreign rule or the imposed dominance of one community over another.55 There may be certain intermediate patterns between the consociational and control models, such as the political arrangement in Lebanon before the civil war.56 Consociational systems are well-anchored in social structure, as reflected by identity symbols common to all subcultures and voluntary cooperation among them, indicating a non-zero-sum perception of differences.57 In contrast, the political regime in societies deeply divided on a community basis is characterized by the prominence and centrality of the community dichotomy. Primary loyalties are accorded to communal centers, which may therefore be called "primary centers," whereas the inclusive center, which does not represent common identity consciousness, merits only partial and conditional legitimization. Moreover, the inter-community conflict is sometimes perceived as a zero-sum conflict; hence the inclusive cen-

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ter must employ means of coercion to prevent manifestations of violence (Kimmerling, 1982c). Critics of the consociational model claim that this model is not applicable to deeply-divided societies where conflict stems from fundamental schisms which cannot be regulated through bargaining and compromise among elites. 58 The case of Mandatory Palestine apparently conforms with this view, as the Mandatory Government operated its authority through rule or imposed control. Such application of power constitutes an alternative to consociational politics which is applicable to deeply-divided societies (Lustick 1979). Imposition of control was thus facilitated by the external and super-communal status of the Government, which prevented domination by one communal component of the deeply-divided society.59 The case of the Yishuv as a distinct community and as a component of the bi-communal system of Palestine under the British Mandate conforms with several hypotheses raised in various contexts of comparative research on political regimes: Horizontal-stratificational and ideological cleavages may be bridged more easily than vertical-ascriptive ones, which are entrenched in 1. affinities for "primordial" collective identity.60 2. Cross-cutting cleavages in specific spheres (cultural, economic, stratificational and political) may be bridged more easily than overlapping, multi-faceted ones.61 3. Non-dichotomous gaps may be bridged more easily than dichotomous ones (for example, a multi-communal division versus a bicommunal one).62 Other hypotheses do not pertain directly to the nature of intercommunity and intra-community cleavages but rather concern the probability of bridging such gaps: The existence of organized diasporas supplying the rival communities with resources intensifies inter-community conflict and aids in 4. intra-community integration (Horowitz, 1982b; Geertz, 1963: 116117). 5. Conflicts based on indivisible elements (sovereignty and even territory, when population dispersal precludes fair division without population exchange) are more difficult to resolve by political means than are conflicts focusing on features amenable to division (economic resources, representation) or differentiation through autonomy in a pluralistic society (cultural patterns).63 The intercommunity cleavage in Mandatory Palestine was vertical-ascriptive (ethno-national, linguistic and religious), multifaceted (because

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of differences of culture, modernization, economic development, stratificational structure and political organization among the communities) and dichotomous (Jews-Arabs), whereas intercommunity gaps in the Yishuv were horizontal (stratificational and ideological), cross-cutting (there was no marked overlap between stratificational and ideological schisms), nondichotomous (plurality of ideological subcultures, such as those of the labor movement, "citizens," religious Zionists, Revisionists). The hypothesis concerning the role of diasporas conforms with the role of Jewish immigration and importation of capital in reinforcing the organized Yishuv (Horowitz and Lissak, 1977:4788). Furthermore, researchers of the inter-community struggle in Palestine concur that the conflict's severity stemmed from the fact that neither of the two national movementsJewish and Arabrequested cultural autonomy or a change in allocation of resources; rather, each demanded exclusive political control of the territory in which the two community populations lived side by side (Kimmerling, 1973). Indeed, the territory itself was perceived as a political resource rather than an economic one. Consequently, the price of land was also determined according to political demand. On this background, various partition plans were suggested. Their implementation, however, would have either left a sizable Arab minority under Jewish control or entailed population transfer. The lack of appropriate conditions for political participation and representation did not mean that the Mandatory Government relied on the power of coercion alone. The political system of the British Mandate in Palestine resorted to coercive measures only at the height of the Arab Revolt and the period of the Jewish Resistance Movement). 64 Acceptance of the British Government's authority as an interim political arrangement, based on direct control without representative participation by the population, likewise conforms to hypotheses concerning political behavioral patterns in divided societies. According to these hypotheses, the following conditions are conducive to political stability: Direct control imposed by a third party, outside the bi-communal system, rather than by one of the two rival sides.65 1. 2. Little involvement in economic and cultural life by the central ruling authorities.66 3. Few points of contact and friction among communities.67 4. Ambiguity regarding the nature of the permanent regime which is supposed to succeed the present "temporary" one.68 The British authorities in Mandatory Palestine constituted a foreign government not directly involved in the inter-community conflict. It followed a laissez-faire policy and was only minimally involved in economic, social

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and cultural life of the communities (except for its economic activities during the emergency period of World War II). The British Mandate was also defined in advance as a temporary regime to be replaced eventually by an independent government. However, the quality of the self-government which was to inherit the mandate was left undefined and British commitment to building the ''Jewish national home" was couched in vague terms. Nevertheless, the political system of Mandatory Palestine was indeed affected by the inherent instability originating in changing power ratios between the communities. 69 A hypothesis raised by researchers of political regimes in divided societies linked the stability of political arrangements in such societies with the lack of outstanding changes in demographic, economic and political (and para-military, if any) power ratios between the system's communities or subcultures (Horowitz, 1982b:343). In fact, several divided societies have tended to base their representative institutions on the assumption of permanent power ratios.70 In such cases, community or subculture demands are assumed to be defensive in nature; hence in seeking to prevent a change for the worse in power ratios, they preserve the status quo as a stabilizing factor. However, this assumption is not universally applicable: the experiences of bi-communal societies indicate that demographic or economic changes originating in differential rates of natural increase between communities or various rates of economic growth indeed affect communal political aspirations. Therefore, a community which accumulates additional demographic or economic strength often tends to demand a parallel change in political representation.71 Demographic and economic power ratio changes which threaten stability develop slowly in most divided societies because of their incremental character.72 This was not the case in Palestine during the British Mandate, however, as demographic power ratio changes resulted from immigration, not natural increase, and economic shifts originated in the import of capital. These two phenomena were connected with the development of the Jewish national home according to commitments expressed by Great Britain in the Balfour Declaration. Under such circumstances, the Arab community's expectations for representation and political influence were based on actual power ratios, whereas those of the Jews were based on potential ones. Jewish immigration and settlement thus became a focus of the political struggle. The pace of change in demographic and economic power ratios between the rival communities was thus determined by political decisions concerning the rate of immigration and land acquisition. Hence the correlation between demographic and economic developments and political ones constituted a factor which undermined stability throughout the entire period of the British Mandate.

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Under these conditions, inter-community relations between Arabs and Jews in Palestine tended to resemble international relations and the Jewish community organization gradually acquired quasi-state qualities. These qualities eventually facilitated its transformation into a sovereign state in the wake of British withdrawal from Palestine. The above observations indicate that a comparative perspective may aid in explaining the characteristics of the Yishuv as a political community within a bi-communal system. Concepts such as "deeply-divided societies" and models such as "center and periphery," 73 ''multi-centered political systems"74 or "consociational democracy" (Lijphart, 1969; Daalder, 1974), even if not fully applicable in the exceptional case under consideration, can function as conceptual frameworks, focusing attention on phenomena for which parallels may be found in other societies. What renders the Jewish community in Palestine exceptional is, therefore, a combination of phenomena, each of which is not necessarily unique in itself. Notes 1. Eisenstadt is the most prominent among representatives of this trend (see Eisenstadt, 1967:158). Horowitz and Lissak (1977:1118) have adopted similar views. 2. The term "divided societies" or "deeply-divided societies" is used by Lustick (1979:325244) and by Nordlinger (1972). See also studies dealing with the problems of divided societies, defining such societies not as divided but rather as pluralistic or prone to ethnic conflicts, e.g. Esman (1973). 3. Regarding the consociational model, see Lijphart (1969); Daalder (1971); Macrae (1974). 4. An assessment of the Yishuv's political organization in the consociational context appears, for example, in Gutmann (1977:171172). 5. An enlightening analysis of the ramifications of incompatiblity between national and community boundaries is included in Connor (1972). 6. For a description of the formation of the organized Yishuv, see Bernstein (1934). For a discussion of the organized Yishuv's significance, see Horowitz and Lissak (1977:2628, 3738). 7. Concerning the Revisionists' position regarding the authority of the Zionist Organization's institutions, see Schechtman (1954); Lubotzky (1946). 8. Regarding the involvement of Arab states, see Porath (1978:199216); Sheffer (1972; 1974). 9. The terms "integral" and "permeable" are borrowed from the theory concerning relations between civilian and military systems in various societies. See Luckham (1971). 10. For a British evaluation of the role of the Jewish Agency, see the Palestine Royal Commission Report, Cmd 5479, July 1937.

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11. For a discussion of the influx of resources from Zionist funds (Keren Hayesod, the Jewish National Fund and Jewish Agency budgets) and use of Keren Hayesod income in Jewish Agency budgets see Elitzur (1939, ch. 10); Horowitz and Lissak (1977:5968, 88). 12. This transformation culminated in the State of Israel, which some consider as the center of contemporary Jewish life (see Avineri, 1980:217227). 13. Regarding the problem of cultural, economic and political demarcation lines between the Jewish and Arab populations, see Kimmerling (1982b, ch. 3); Horowitz and Lissak (1977:136); Szeresevski (1968:126). 14. Regarding the ideology fundamentally guided by a tendency towards economic isolation, see Kimmerling (1982b; Shapira (1977); Horowitz and Lissak (1977:1618, 2932). 15. For example, consider sale of industrial goods and services between the economies: in 1936, only 3% of the output to the Jewish economy originated in reciprocal relations with the Arab market, whereas the output of the Jewish economy to the Arab one reached approximately 10%. See Szeresevski (1968:3, Table 1). This conception of two separate societies is accepted by Horowitz and Lissak (1977) relying on Szeresevski. For an opposing perspective on isolation or separatism, see Swirsky (1979:3337); Kimmerling (1982c). 16. The issue of expulsion of Arabs from agricultural land following sale to Jews was in dispute between Jews and Arabs and the subject of several British Commissions of Enquiry. However, once registration was institutedfor purposes or reallocating land for settlementit emerged that only a few hundred of the thousands of claims were found to have any foundation in reality (see note 20, above; Palestine Royal Commission Report, Cmd 5479, Par. 60). 17. In 1936, the percentage of Arab employees among all workers in the Jewish economy reached 14.6% (Zussman, 1974:40). This period preceded the outbreak of the Arab strike, during which many Arabs were employed in the Jewish economy. 18. During the 1930s, Palestine's positive balance of payments resulted from Jewish import of capital. During World War II, a second, no less important factor was added: the British war expenses. During the six years of the war, Jewish imported capital came to 45,160,000 Palestine Pounds (Horowitz, 1954:117122). While the Jewish economy doubled between 1938 and 1945, Arab economic growth came to only about 15%20%. Industrial production also increased considerably in the Jewish sector. The newest and most important phenomenon in the Palestine economy during World War II and the three years following it was the vast accumulation of capital. (Horowitz, 1954). "The Arab revolt, one of whose objectives was to stifle the Jewish system through ceasing trade, failed because this system had already proved that it was able to supply itself at the level of a modern economy (relative to its era)" (Kimmerling, 1976, p. 43). Data Jewish import of capital may also be found in Halevi and Klinov-Malul (1968:1839). 19. See, for example, Eisenstadt (1967); Horowitz and Lissak (1977). Regarding internal struggles within the Jewish system and external ones with the Arab systems, with reservations concerning conception of the Yishuv as a separate analytical unit, see Swirsky (1979:2737); Szeresevski (1968:126); Kimmerling (1982b, ch. 3); Zussman (1974).

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20. This was the title of a study on Jewish labor by Anita Shapira of Tel-Aviv University. 21. For example, consider the differences in wage scales between Jews and Arabs employed in the same jobs. See Geertz (1947) regarding wages in industry (p. 296), construction (pp. 298299) and agriculture (p. 300). Regarding ideological supervision in the context of the territorial conflict and land acquisition, see Kimmerling (1979a, 1979b). 22. Import of Jewish capital came to over 45 million Palestine Pounds during the six years of World War II. For details of sums of imported Jewish capital, expansion of the agricultural economy and industrial development, see Horowitz (1954, pp. 117122). 23. The importance of education as an expresion of Zionism's national political impetus was discerned by the Peel Commission (see the Palestine Royal Commission Report, ch. 5, Cmd 5479, July 1937 and note 10, above). 24. See Kimmerling (1983, chs. 1,2,4). Kimmerling has determined that the price of land was higher than its economic value because of Jewish political demands. 25. For data on differences in wages between Jews and Arabs in the Jewish economy, see Geertz (1947:296300). 26. The concepts of Gemeinschaft and Gesellschaft have influenced social thinking since the days of Teinis and also appear in the works of Max Weber. Regarding community affinities and social and political integration in societies of varying degrees of modernization, see Geertz (1963:105157). 27. For a discussion of problems concerning the status of the state in societies divided into communities, see Connor (1972). 28. For an analysis of the significance of such situations, relating to the case of Northern Ireland, see Rose (1971). 29. For a conceptual framework of research of deeply divided societies, based on an analysis of these four societies, see Horowitz (1982b); Nordlinger (1972). 30. The concept "security community" originated in the writings of Karl Deutsch (see Deutsch 1957). 31. Regarding cooperation between the Irgun Zvai Leumi (IZL) and the authorities during World War II, which ended with the death of IZL Commander David Raziel on a British Army mission in Iraq, see Niv (1967, pp. 6777). 32. The concept of "conditional legitimization" originates in the writings of Shaul Mishal on the Jordanian regime in the West Bank (Mishal, 1978:2223, 4761, 7273). A development of this concept, as well as that of "partial legitimization," appears in Horowitz (1982b:333335). 33. The author of this article was an eyewitness to the pursuit by British policemen and detectives of LHI (Lohamei Herut Israel) man Dr. Israel Eldad in the streets of Tel-Aviv, ending in his arrest. The detectives shouted to passersby: "Stop that thief!" It emerges that they too learned the limits of legitimization accorded to them by the population. They could expect cooperation in pursuit of a thief, but not of a man suspected of political terror. 34. Only the latter part of the riots of 19361939 deserve the name "Arab Revolt," from Fall 1937 on (after the murder of Galilee District Commissioner Andrews). Before then, the riots had more of an anti-Jewish than anti-British character. See Porath (1978:233273).

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35. Conditional legitimization was reflected in the rapid transition from the "Season" of mid-1944 to the Jewish Resistance Movement in early 1946. See Bauer (1963, pp. 305359); Slutzky (19541972, Part III, Book 1). 36. See Horowitz (1982b) for an examination of the Israeli case of intercommunity relations resembling international ones within the framework of a comparative analysis of other divided societies. 37. Data on Jewish population dispersal during the Yishuv period may be found in Natras (1965:132) and Gurewitz, Gertz and Baki (1944:266286). 38. See the Palestine Royal Commission Report, ch. 5/19, July 1937 (see note 20, above). 39. Concerning the conception of "fields of authority" or "fields of influence" of centers of authority, see Horowitz (1982b:329336). 40. Horowitz and Lissak stress the effects of the possibility of dissent inherent in the voluntary structure of the Yishuv (Horowitz and Lissak, 1977:4046, 167171, 213230). 41. Overemphasis bordering on exaggeration of the power-related and organizational components of the authority of the Yishuv leadership during the early days of the Labor Movement may be found in the book by sociologist Yonatan Shapira (1977:3436, 112144). 42. A broader analysis of the religious issue in Israeli legislation may be found in Millstein's doctoral dissertation (1978). 43. Data on distribution of immigration certificates through parties and the political considerations employed in selecting candidates for immigration are taken from various sources and presented concisely by Horowitz and Lissak (1977: 177178). 44. For a more detailed presentation of this approach, see Horowitz and Lissak (1977:175181, 213230). 45. The most complete expression of the consociational model, in the context of an analysis of Dutch politics, is presented by Lijphart (1968). See also Lijphart (1969) and Daalder (1974). 46. The problem of viability of political exchanges with a given quantity of resources concerned various researchers who borrowed the term "zero-sum" from game theory to aid in formulation of the problem. Actually, the issue is more of a fundamental problem concerning the study of society and politics, as distinguished by Talcott Parsons (1966:294). 47. The principle of "minimally winning coalitions" was formulated by Ricker (1962). Its incompatibility with actual political coalitions because of the intervention of ideological factors was dealt with by De Swaan (1973). Concerning the model's unsuitability to the Israeli case, see Selikter (1975); Diskin (1976). 48. An awareness of the existence of various subjective utilities is at the root of the recent tendency to question the applicability of game theory to the social sciences. See Raiffa (1968). 49. The coalition of Mapai, the General Zionists and Mizrachi-Hapoel Hamizrachi, which paved the way for Mapai control in the State of Israel, was formed in 1935, a peak year for immigration from Germanyand importation of capital from Germany (Horowitz, 1948). (Concerning the connection between supply of resources and coalitionary negotiations, see Ben-Gurion (1968:123126).

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50. See the Maariv Editorial Board Symposium, with the participation of heads of the Hagana, IZL and LHI, Maariv, April 5, 6, 24 and 29, 1966. 51. Studies of the Mandatory Government's activity patterns indicate their subjection to the paramount objective of this regime, described as maintenance of British rule for an unspecified time period at a minimal cost (see Sheffer, 1978). Hence the application of Mandatory authority was intended primarily to enable orderly continuation of control on as low a level of involvement as possible. See also Sheffer (1980). 52. The British Mandate was approved by the League of Nations on July 24, 1922 and became valid on September 29, 1923. For a description of the circumstances of its acceptance and the full text of the Mandate, see Government of Palestine (1946). The Jewish community regulations were published on January 1, 1928, after authorization by High Commissioner Plumer. See Atias (1944; 1953). 53. Arlozoroff was the first to discern this phenomenon in his enlightening article, written in 1929, "The Class War and Palestinian Reality" (see Arlozoroff, 1958). 54. Lijphart (1968, p. 103) claimed that "consociationalism is characterized by the lack of comprehensive consensus but not the complete absence of consensus ..." 55. Regarding national ethnic problems after attainment of independence, see Connor (1973). 56. Enlightening articles on the Lebanese pattern, sometimes also called "confessional democracy," are included in the book by Binder (1966), Politics in Lebanon, especially in articles by L. Binder, P. Rondot and M.M. Silverman. For the source of the Lebanese pattern, See Dekmejian (1978). 57. The description may seem strange to one who has read several of the articles of proponents of consociational theories, as these place greater emphasis on the differences among subcultures than on the common features thereof. However, it is in coincidence that Lijphart calls his consociational theory a theory of integration (see Lijphart, 1971). Nevertheless, Lijphart himself, unlike others who assume a broader common denominator among subcultures, tends to place primary emphasis on the role of political bargaining in consociational arrangements. Daalder (1974), for example, claims that no Dutch political force ever threatened the state per se. 58. This claim was raised by Brian Barry (1975) in the context of Northern Ireland. 59. The conclusion that the Jews and Arabs alike complied with direct British Mandatory rule emerges from various studies. Don Peretz (1973) indicates correctly that this position reflected a rejection of bi-national solutions. 60. This claim was not accepted universally; Connor (1972) was among its most consistent supporters. See also Connor (1973). An opposite view was taken by the Nation-Building School, whose most outstanding proponent is Karl Deutsch, as expressed in his book Nationalism and Social Communication (1973). This approach is also supported by the functionalist school of researchers of European integration, primarily Ernest Haas in his book Beyond the Nation-State (1964). An intermediate position is adopted by Clifford Geertz (1963), who stresses the importance of primordial conflicts and yet believes that in time, the process of modernization may reduce their influence. See also Apter (1977). 61. The existence of cross-cutting cleavages is acceptable to the consociational school (see Lijphart 1969); Steiner 1974:49). In contrast, Nordlinger (1972:

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100) adopts a critical position regarding this contention, as does Brian Barry (1975b). Daalder (1974), who considers the dispute in his article, does not accept Barry's and Nordlinger's claims, although he recognized the need to examine each specific case. 62. Lebanon has been described as an example of a non-dichotomous ethnic-religious division which enabled the system to function according to the confessional democracy model (Suleiman, 1966). The failure of the Lebanese model raises doubts regarding the validity of this theory for deeply-divided societies. Many examples of dichotomous and non-dichotomous conflicts are noted by Geertz (1963:117119), who refrains from expressing his own opinion on the influence of pragmatization on conflict levels. 63. Unless this claim is accepted, there is no meaning to the hopes expressed by proponents of the functionalist approach for supra-national integration in Europe. They assume that the importance of sovereignty and territorial affinities in relations among developed states tend to diminish as trade among them increases (see Haas 1964). In deeply-divided states, in contrast, the key conflicts concern sovereignty and territory (see Kimmerling, 1982c). 64. The Jewish approach to legitimization of the Mandate stemmed from the assumption that the Mandate's function is to establish a Jewish national home. This view was expressed in the document presented by the Jewish Agency to the United Nations Committee of inquiry in 1947. See Jewish Agency (1947: 70103). The Arab position was less clear, but until the 19361939 Arab Revolt, Arab leaders cooperated with the Mandatory Government without challenging its legitimacy. 65. This assumption was adopted by those who drafted the constitution of Cyprus, when they determined that a foreign citizen shall serve as Chairman of the Republic's Constitutional Tribunal. Thus, resolution of constitutinal disputes would effectively remain the responsibility of an external arbiter. See Kiraikides (1968). 66. Proponents of the consociational theory, for example, posit that a reduction in the government's burden facilitates attainment of consociational arrangements. Hence the government's power must be reduced and limited. (Daalder, 1974: 605). 67. This assumption underlies the hypothesis that division may serve as a stablizing political tool. See Johnston (1973). 68. Amgbiguous formulas are a well-known diplomatic tool. For a consideration of the function of vague and ambiguous rules of the game in divided societies, see Horowitz (1982b:336346). 69. Changes in demographic and economic power ratios were among the causes of the Arab strike of 1936 and the Arab revolt which followed it. See Porath (1978:172194). 70. The consociational school stressed the importance of proportional arrangements. Gerhard Lehbruch, who studied political methods in Switzerland and Austria, went even farther and coined the term "propotiodemocracy" (see Lehbruch, 1976). 71. The case of Lebanon is one characteristic example (see Dekmejian 1978). This conclusion may be derived from a case study of the background of Mandatory Palestine, Lebanon, Cyprus and Northern Ireland. See Horowitz (1982b).

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72. See Nordlinger (1972); Lustick (1979). 73. Shils (1975). See also lecture delivered by Shils in Israel (1967). 74. See Horowitz and Lissak's introduction (1978:1013). See also Mishal (1978); Horowitz (1982b:329336). References Apter, David. 1977. An Introduction to Political Analysis. Cambridge, Mass.: Winthrop Publishers. Attias, M. 1944. The "Assembly of Israel" in the Land of Israel. Jerusalem: National Council, Press and Publicity Department. (Hebrew) . 1953. The National Council of the Jews of PalestineDocuments: 18851948. Jerusalem. (Hebrew) Arlozorov, Haim. 1958. Selected Writings and Biography. Tel-Aviv: Am Oved, the Zionist Library, pp. 5463. (Hebrew) Avineri, Shlomo. 1981. The Making of Modern Zionism. New York: Basic Books. Barry, Brian. 1975a. "The Consociational Model and its Dangers." British Journal of Political Research 3, 4:393412. . 1975b. "Political Accomodation and Consociational Democracy." British Journal of Political Science 5:477505. Bauer, Yehuda. 1973. From Diplomacy to Resistance. New York: Atheneum. Begin, Menachem. 1951. The Revolt. Jerusalem: Steimatzky. Ben-Gurion, David. 1968. Letters to Paula. Tel-Aviv: Am Oved. (Hebrew) Bernstein, Marver. 1934. Self-Government of the Jews in Palestine Since 1900. Tel-Aviv: Hapoel Hatzair. (Hebrew) Binder, L., ed. 1966. Politics in Lebanon. New York: Wiley. Brenner, Yosef Haim. 1956. Complete Works. Tel-Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuhad. (Hebrew) Connor, Walker. 1972. "National Building or National Destroying?" World Politics 24, 3:319355. . 1973. "The Politics of Ethno-Nationalism." Journal of International Affairs 27, 1. Daalder, H. 1971. "On Building Consociational Nations: The Case of the Netherlands." International Social Science Journal 23, 3:70355. . 1974. "The Consociational Democracy Theme." World Politics 26, 4:612:694.

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Dekmejian, R.H. 1978. "Consociational Democracy in CrisisThe Case of Lebanon." Comparative Politics 10, 2:251265. De Swaan, A. 1973. Coaltion Theories and Cabinet Formation. Amsterdam: Elsevier Scientific. Deutsch, Karl W. 1953. Nationalism and Social Communication. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press and John Wiley. . 1957. Political Communities and the North Atlantic Area. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Diskin, Avraham. 1976. A Map of Israeli Political Parties as a Multi-Party Competitive System. Doctoral dissertation, the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. (Hebrew) Drayton, L. 1934. Laws of Palestine. Jerusalem. Eisenstadt, S.N. 1967. Israeli Society. New York: Basic Books. . 1976. "Portrait of the Yishuv. "Jerusalem Quarterly 1:2835. . 1977. "Change and Continuity in Israeli SocietyDynamic Conservatism vs. Innovation." Jerusalem Quarterly 2:311. Elitzur, _. 1939. National Capital in Building the Country. Jerusalem: Keren Hayesod Head Office. (Hebrew) Esman, Milton J. 1973. "The Management of Communal Conflict." Public Policy 21. Friedman, Menachem. 1978. Society and Religion: Non-Zionist Orthodoxy in Palestine 19181936. Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi. (Hebrew) Geertz, A., ed. 1941. Statistical Handbook of Jewish Palestine. Jerusalem: The Jewish Agency, Department of Statistics. Geertz, Clifford. 1963. "The Integrative Revolution." In Old SocietiesNew States, edited by Clifford Geertz, New York: The Free Press of Glencoe. Government of Britain. 1922. Parliamentary Papers. Cmd. 1785. Government of Palestine. 1946. A Survey of Palestine. Prepared for the information of the Anglo-American Committee of Inquiry. Jerusalem. Gurevitz, B.D., A. Gratz, and R. Baki. 1944. Immigration, the Yishuv and the MovementOn the Population of Palestine. Jerusalem: The Jewish Agency, Department of Statistics. (Hebrew) Gutmann, Emanuel. 1977. "Parties and CampsStability and Change." Pp. 122171 in The Political System in Israel, edited by Emanuel Gutmann and Moshe Lissak. Tel-Aviv: Am Oved. (Hebrew) Haas, Ernest. 1964. Beyond the Nation-State. Stanford: Stanford University Press.

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Halevi, Nadav, and Ruth Klinov-Malul. 1968. The Economic Development of Israel. Jerusalem: Bank of Israel and Frederick Praeger. Halpern, B. 1962. "The Role of the Military in Israel." In The Role of the Military in Underdeveloped Countries, edited by P. Johnson. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Horowitz, Dan. 1982a. "The Israel Defense ForcesMilitary in a Partially Militarized Society." In Soldiers, Peasants and BureaucratsCivilianized London, edited by A. Kolkowicz and A. Korbonski. London: George Allen and Unwin. . 1982b. "Dual Authority Politics." Comparative Politics 14, 2:329349. , and Moshe Lissak. 1978. Origins of the Israeli Polity. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Horowitz, David. 1948. The Development of the Palestinian Economy. Tel-Aviv: Dvir. (Hebrew) . 1954. The Economy of Israel. Tel-Aviv: Massada. (Hebrew) . 1972. The Enigma of Economic Growth. New York: Praeger. Immigration Center. 1926. Information on Labor Immigration to Palestine in (Spring) 1925. (Hebrew) Israeli, G.Z. 1953. Mapam, PKP, MakiA History of the Communist Party in Israel. Tel-Aviv: Am Oved. (Hebrew) (The book's author, writing under a pseudonym, is the noted historian Walter (Zeev) Laqueur) Jabotinsky, Zeev. 1953. WritingsEn Route to Statehood. Jerusalem: Eri Jabotinsky Publications. (Hebrew) Jewish Agency, 1947. The Jewish Plan for Palestine. Memoranda and statements presented by the Jewish Agency for Palestine to UNSCOP, Jerusalem. Johnston, R. S. 1973. "Partition as a Political Instrument." Journal of International Affairs 27, 2:159174. Katzenelson, Berl. 1946-1948. Writings. Tel-Aviv: Mapai Publications. (Hebrew) Kimmerling, Baruch. 1976. "The Conduct of the Jewish-Arab Conflict and Processes of State-Building during the Mandatory Period." Pp. 3556 in State, Government and International Relations 9. (Hebrew) . 1973. The Struggle for LandA Chapter in the Sociology of the Jewish-Arab Conflict: Studies in Sociology. Jerusalem: The Hebrew University. (Hebrew) . 1979. "A Conceptual Framework for the Analysis of Behavior in a

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Territorial Conflict: The Generalization of the Israeli Case." Jerusalem Papers on Peace Problems, Jerusalem: The Leonard Davis Institute for International Relations, No. 25. . 1982a. "Change and Continuity in Zionist Territorial Orientation and Politics." Comparative Politics 14, 2:191210. . 1982b. Zionism and Economy, Cambridge, Mass.: Schenkman Publishing Co. . 1982c. "A Model for Reciprocal Relations between the Jewish and Arab Communities in Mandatory Palestine." Plural Societies 13, 1. . 1983. Zionism and TerritoryThe Socio-Territorial Dimensions of Zionist Politics. Berkeley: Institute of International Studies, University of California. Kiraikides, S. 1968. Cyprus, Constitutionalism and Crisis of Government. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Lehbruch, Gerhard. 1967. Proporzdemokratie: Politische System und Politische Kultur in der Schweiz und in Österreich. Zulingen: Mohr. Lijphart, Arrendt. 1969. "Consociational Democracy." World Politics 21, 2:207250. . 1968. The Politics of Accomodation: Pluralism and Democracy, in the Netherlands. University of California Press. . 1971. "Cultural Diversity and Theories of Political Integration." Canadian Journal of Political Science 4:114. . 1981. "Comparative Politics and the Comparative Method." American Political Science Review 65, 3. Lissak, Moshe. 1969. Social Mobility in Israeli Society. Jerusalem: Israel Universities Press. . 1981. The Elites of the Jewish Community in Palestine during the Mandatory Period. Tel-Aviv: Am Oved. (Hebrew) Lubotzky, Binyamin. 1946. Hatzohar and Betar. Jerusalem: The Small Zionist Library. (Hebrew) Luckham, A. K. 1971. "A Comparative Typology of Civil-Military Relations." Government and Opposition 6, 1:535. Lustick, Ian. 1979. "Stability in Deeply-Divided Societies: Consociationalism Versus Control." World Politics 31, 3:321349. Macrae, K., ed. 1974. Consociational Democracy. Toronto: McClelland and Stewart. Matras, J. 1965. Social Change in Israel. Chicago: Aldine.

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Millstein, Uri. 1978. The Religious Claim in Israeli Legislation. Doctoral dissertation, The Hebrew University of Jerusalem. (Hebrew) Mishal, Shaul. 1978. West BankEast BankThe Palestinians in Jordan, 19491967. New Haven: Yale University Press. Nettle, J. P. 1968. ''The State as a Conceptual Variable." World Politics 20, 4. Niv, David. 1967. Battle for FreedomThe Irgun Zvai Leumi. Tel-Aviv: Mosad Klausner. (Hebrew) Nordlinger, Eric A. 1972. Conflict Regulation in Divided Societies. Pp. 325344 in Occasional Papers in International Affairs, No. 29, Cambridge (MA): Harvard University Center for International Affairs. Pail, Meir. 1979. From the Hagana to the IDF. Tel-Aviv: Zamora, Bitan, Modan. (Hebrew) Parsons, Talcott. 1966. "On the Concept of Political Power." In Class, Status, Power, edited by R. Bendix and S.M. Lipset. New York: The Free Press. Peretz, Don. 1973. Israelis, Palestinians and Multi-Nationalism. "Journal of International Affairs 27, 1:9194. Porath, Yehoshua. 1974. The Emergence of the Palestinian Arab National Movement 19181929. London: Frank Cass. . 1977. The Palestinian Arab National Movement19291939. London: Frank Cass. Raiffa, M. 1968. Decision AnalysisIntroductory Lectures on Choice under Uncertainty. Reading, Mass.: Addison Wesley. Ricker, W.H. 1962. The Theory of Political Coalitions. New Haven: Yale University Press. Rivlin, Gershon, ed. 1962. Fire and Defense: A History of the Jewish Special Police. Tel-Aviv: Maarachot Press. (Hebrew) Rose, Norman. 1976. "The Dispute Over the Legislative Committee: 19291936." Pp. 217245 in Studies in the History of the Jewish People and the Land of Israel, vol. 2, edited by B. Oded, A. Rapaport, A. Shohat and Y. Schatzmiller. Haifa: Haifa University Press. (Hebrew) Rose, R. 1971. Governing Without Consensus. London: Faber and Faber. Schechtman, Joseph P. 1956. The Vladimir Jabotinsky Story, vol. 2. New York: Thomas Yosseloff. Selikter, Ofira. 1975. "Coalition Theories and FormationA Study of the Israeli Case." State, Government and International Relations 8. (Hebrew)

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Shapira, Anita. 1977. The Disappointed StruggleThe Dispute on the Issue of Jewish Labor, 19291949. Tel-Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuhad and Tel-Aviv University. (Hebrew) Shapira, Yonatan. 1977. Democracy in Israel. Tel-Aviv. Massada. (Hebrew) Shavit, Yaakov. 1976. Hunting SeasonThe "Season". Tel-Aviv: Hadar. (Hebrew) Sheffer, Gabriel. 1972. "Saudi Arabia and the Palestine Question during the Arab Revolt Period19361939. " Pp. 137151 in The New East, 32,2. (Hebrew) . 1974. "The Involvement of Arab States in the Palestine Conflict and the British-Arab Relationship before World War II." Asian and African Studies 10, 1:5978. . 1978. "British Policy-Making Towards Palestine (19291939)." Middle Eastern Studies 14, 3:307322. . 1980. "The Images of Arabs and Jews as a Factor of British Policy towards Palestine." Zionism 1, 1:105128. Shils, Edward. 1958. "The Concentration and Dispersion of Charisma." World Politics 11, 1. . 1961. "Center and Periphery." In The Logic of Personal Knowledge: Essays Presented to Polany. New York: Routledge and Kegan Paul. . 1967. "Society and Societies from a Macrosociological Point of View." Pp. 130131 in Megamot 16, 23. (Hebrew) . 1975. Center and Periphery. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Shimoni, D. 1947. The Arabs of Palestine. Tel-Aviv: Am Oved. (Hebrew) Slutzky, Yehuda, ed. 19541972. History of the Hagana. Tel-Aviv: Maarachot Press and Am Oved. (Hebrew) Steiner, J. 1974. Amicable Agreement Versus Majority Rule: Conflict Resolution in Switzerland. Chapel Hill, N.C.: University of North Carolina Press. Suleiman. _. 1966. "Elections in Confessional Democracy." In Politics in Lebanon, edited by L. Binder. New York: Wiley. Svirski, S. 1979. "Comments on the Historical Sociology of the Yishuv Period." Notes on Research and Criticism 2. (Hebrew) Szeresevski, Robert. 1968. Essays in the Structure of the Jewish Economy in Palestine and Israel. Jerusalem: The Maurice Falk Institute for Economics in Israel. Weber, Max. 1949. The Methodology of the Social Sciences. New York: The Free Press of Glencoe.

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. 1968. Economy and Society. New York: Bedminster Press. Weintraub, D., M. Lissak, and Y. Azmon. 1969. Moshava, Kibbutz and MoshavCH:151>Patterns of Jewish Rural Settlement and Development in Palestine. Ithaca, N.Y. and London: Cornell University Press. World Zionist Organization. 1971. "The World Zionist Organization and Labor SettlementsReciprocal Relations, 19081948." Bashav. (Hebrew) . 1976. Aliyah, vol. 3. (Hebrew) Zussman, Zvi. 1974. Gaps and Equality in the Histadrut: 19201939. Tel-Aviv: Massada. (Hebrew)

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3 Citizenship, Nationality and Religion in Israel and Thailand* Erik Cohen The Problem The Arabs of the state of Israel number about 700,000, and constitute around one sixth of the total population of the country (within the boundaries of the "Green Line" preceding the Six-Day War of 1967). Close to 80% of them are Muslims, the rest Christians. They are ethnically, culturally and religiously part of the surrounding Arab world and of the Palestinian people with whom Israel is in a prolonged and bitter conflict; moreover, they lost their majority status and became a minority in a Jewish state only less than forty years ago, with the establishment of the State of Israel in 1948 and the defeat of the Arabs in Israel's War of Independence. The Malays of Southern Thailand number about 1 million and constitute around 2% of the total population. Virtually all of them are Muslims. They are ethnically, culturally and religiously part of the surrounding Malay world, with whichin contrast to IsraelThailand maintains cordial, peaceful relations, and cooperates in many areas of common concern, both bilaterally and through ASEAN (Association of Southeast Asian Nations); moreover, the Malays of southern Thailand have been intermittently under Siamese suzerainty ever since the Sukhothai period (12301350), and were directly incorporated into the Siamese state at the beginning of this century, more than 80 years ago. By all these indications one should expect, then, that the Arabs of Israel will show a stronger ten*The material on Thailand for this paper was collected during the summers of 1985 and 1986 within the framework of my wider study on "Social Change in Thailand" under a grant from the Harry S. Truman Research Institute for the Advancement of Peace at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, whose support is hereby gratefully acknowledged. Thanks are also due to the National Research Council of Thailand and to the Thailand Information Center at Chulalongkorn University in Bangkok for their kind assistance, and to M. Lissak for his comments on an earlier draft of this paper.

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dency for an irredentist, separatist or secessionist struggle against Israel, than the Malays of southern Thailand will show against Thailand. This, however, is not the case. With some notable but isolated exceptions, the Arabs of Israel were remarkably quiescent under Israeli rule from the beginning of statehood to the present (Lustick, 1980:127), whatever their attitude and personal loyalty to the Jewish state. The Malays of southern Thailand, contrariwise, have engaged upon a series of rebellions and irredentist movements seeking autonomy, separation or secession from Thailand, which periodically threatened the territorial integrity of the Thai state. This unexpected difference can probably be partly accounted for by differences in the manner of control of the state over its minority and the minority's access to the means of resistance. However, in this paper I shall address some deeper political and symbolic differences between the two countries, which may help to explain the differential motivation of their respective minorities to resistance. These relate, first, to the relationship between citizenship and nationality, and secondly, to the relationship between nationality and religion prevailing in each of these nation states. The Dual Basis of the Nation State The modern nation state, as the term implies, is based on two principles by which adherence of the individual to the community is determined: citizenship in the state and membership of the nation. The former determines the criteria of formal participation in the political community: Insofar as the state is based on universalistic laws and democratic institutions, it grants all its citizens formal political equality. The latter determines the criteria of substantive participation in the political community: Insofar as the principal symbols of this community are national, this participation will be intrinsically particularisticlimited to the members of the national majority, or to those members of the minority who seek to join that majority, thus changing their ethnic identity. Minorities who seek to preserve their distinct ethnic identities are in a precarious position in such a nation state; they are called upon to perform their civil obligations and exercise their civil rights and to show loyalty to the state; but in the nature of the case they remain marginal to the political community and their loyalty remains suspect. This state of affairs introduces a fundamental instability into the nation state. The central polity may seek to resolve this instability by a variety of strategies, ranging from the extermination or expulsion of the minority to its complete assimilation. In-between these extremes are found the different attempts to accommodate the minority without assimilating it completely. In such cases, the polity may seek to increase the emphasis, in the symbolization of the state, upon the universalistic principle of citizenship

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as a unifying factor, at the expense of particularistic national symbols. This effort may eventuate in the emergence of a "civil religion" (Rousseau, 1947:115125, Bellah, 1967), under whose auspices a nation of civilians would eventually emerge, obliterating, in the political sphere, the differences between primordial national entities. The capacity of the polity to develop a "civil religion," however, may be constrained by the nature of the symbols by which the "nation" is symbolized. Insofar as these symbols have a marked transcendent, especially religious character, these constraints can become extremely severe. In that case, a "civic,'' rather than a civil religion will tend to emerge, i.e. one in which the political realm, though distinct from the religious, is profoundly penetrated by specific religious symbols and concepts (Reynolds, 1977). A complete differentiation of political (civil) and nationalreligious roles will not take place in such a state; the civic role will thus not be completely devoid of nationalreligious attributes. Such nation states will face a perennial and irresolvable problem in the political incorporation of their minorities. Israel and Thailand have developed different versions of "civic" religion and therefore share that predicament. However, the impact of the Buddhist religion upon the political sphere in Thailand was more direct than that of Judaism on the political sphere in Israel, where it is mediated through the secular ideology of Zionism. It is this difference, as we shall show below, which attenuated the conflict between the Israeli polity and its Arab minority, in comparison with that between the Thai polity and its Malay minority. However, as the impact of Jewish religion upon Israel's polity grows, this attenuating factor is gradually eliminated, even as the growing emphasis upon common citizenship in Thailand may reduce the tension between the central polity and the Malay minority. Israel and Its Arab Minority Israel was created by the Zionist movement, which strove to resolve the problem of Jewish collective existence and identity in the modern erai.e., the era in which the traditional accommodation of Jews as a religious minority to a Christian world proved inadequate. The emergent new nation states offered only an individual solutionthe acceptance of Jews as citizensbut not a collective one, namely to Jews as a group with a separate historical identity (Avineri, 1981:813). Zionism was basically a secular political movement, seeking the realization by human effort of Jewish sovereignty in the Land of Israel, which according to the prevalent orthodox religious view could be achieved only by divine redemption. Zionism thus "secularized" traditional Jewish aspirations, and in the process strove to forge a Jewish nation from members of the Jewish religion. Zionism also in-

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herited from Judaism a basic structural contradiction, which decisively influenced the nature of the Israeli state, its "universalistic particularism:" The conception that the Jews are the chosen (i.e., particularistically set apart) people, but their choseness is, in a sense, supererogatory: they announced to the world, through their prophets, the universalistic ethic, which became the kernel of the ethic of modernity. When, ironically, in the name of that ethic, Diasporic Jews were given equal civil rights as individuals, they found themselves in a quandary: the Jewish "ordeal of civility" (Cuddihy, 1974) was engendered by the inability of the Jews to preserve their collective separateness, once they were fully integrated as citizens in the modern civil state. Zionism sought to overcome that dilemma, by creating a Jewish state which would endow its citizens with both, individual civil rights and national sovereignty. The pioneering-socialist version of Zionism which was dominant at the time the State of Israel was founded, was indeed committed to both civil universalism and national particularism, without sensing their inherent contradiction: Israel was to be first and foremost a Jewish state. The basic symbols of the state, its name, flag, anthem and political rituals were all emphatically Jewish national symbols; some of these, such as the national emblem depicting the Menorah (the seven-armed candlestick), were borrowed from Jewish religion (cf. Handelman and ShamgarHandelman, forthcoming), but have become "secularized," and used as historical symbols of the continuity of the Israeli state with Jewish history. But the state was also committed to the ideals of civility and democracy and to the creation of enlightened, liberal and democratic political institutions, in which all citizens would enjoy equal rights of formal civil participation, regardless of their nationality or religion (e.g. Shapira, 1986:6). The universalistic political principles were enshrined in Israel's Declaration of Independence, even though the actual practice of the polity, especially during the period of early statehood, was often at extreme variance with them as far as the Arab minority was concerned. As a modern state, Israel was to be based on civil, legal-rational principles of legitimation; but these provided primarily the formal foundation of the state. Of greater salience for the founders and the Jewish population was the legitimation of the state in secularized traditional terms: the right of the Jewish people to national sovereignty in their own land. This link was based on history and religion, but perceived as crucial for the justification of the state in nationalist Zionist ideology. It is indeed in the link between the Jews and their land that secular Zionist and orthodox religious aspirations overlap, creating the basis for a more recent neo-traditional, religious reinterpretation of Zionism (Kimmerling, 1985). Neither did the legal and institutional structure of the new state completely bear out the universalistic principles of citizenship. Thus, the Law

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of Return endowed all Jews with a virtually automatic right to immigrate to Israel; this right was denied to others, and particularly to the Palestinian refugees who had left the country in 1948 and who have not been permitted to return up till the present (cf. Lustick, 1980:274275n). The greatest institutional inroads on universalistic civility, however, are found in the sphere of religion. Though Israel was to be a secular state, it incorporated many elements of Jewish religious tradition in its legal and institutional make-up. In particular, Jewish oral law (Halacha) was applied, through legislation, to diverse areas of life of the Jewish population, such as matrimony, inheritance and even diet. Many municipal statutes also instituted Jewish religious precepts in such matters as the keeping of the Sabbath rest-day. Cynics may argue that such legislation was politically motivated and merely expressed the power of the religious political parties in Israel. But there is little doubt that many non-observant Israeli Jews also considered it as an expression of the Jewish character of the state. This legislation, however, applied only to the Jewish population, and did not, on the whole, affect the other religious communities, whose affairs are conducted according to their own religious laws. Two points, important for the comparison with Thailand, should be emphasized: even when symbols originating in Jewish religion were incorporated into the body of the central political symbols of the state, they were not perceived as religious, but as historical national symbols; their religious salience was low not only in the perception of the Jewish but also of the non-Jewish citizens. Secondly, the particularistic religious laws, in actual practice, constrained the Jewish citizen in his freedom of choice and conduct to a much higher degree than his non-Jewish co-citizen. The political history of Israel from its inception to the present can be succintly conceived of as the progressive emergence of the implications of the contradiction between the underlying universalistic and particularistic principles on which the state was based, between citizenship of the state and membership in the nation. A growing cleft emerged between the progressive institutionalization of the universalistic principles of citizenship by the administration and especially the judiciary, which enhanced, within limits, the exercise of civil rights and access to opportunities for all citizens, and the progressive trend within the Jewish community towards a particularistic symbolic emphasis on membership in the Jewish nation, rather than citizenship of the state, as the basic principle of adherence to the political community. This trend expresses a reorientation of the basic principles of legitimation of Israel: a trend away from secular Zionism, especially its pioneering-socialist variety, towards a neo-traditionalist Jewish nationalism which, while it reinforces the primordial links among Jews both within Israel and the diaspora, deemphasizes the modern, civil character of the

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state (Cohen, 1983). This is, in fact, the contemporary manifestation of what Liebman and Don-Yehiya (1983) called the "new civil [civic] religion," which in some circles fosters an increasingly reckless nationalism, often accompanied by fundamentalist religious Jewish overtones (Kimmer-ling, 1985), and frequently threatens to provoke an acute crisis of democracy in Israel. The sources of this trend can here be only briefly indicated. It is primarily related to four major developments in Israeli society: (1) The gradual "post-revolutionary" disenchantment of members of central strata in Israeli society, including much of the second generation, with the pioneering-socialist ideology of the founders (cf. Eisenstadt, 1985:409ff.); (2) The re-assertion by the Oriental immigrants and their progeny of their traditional Jewish world-view, after the partial failure of the Israeli establishment to "modernize" and "secularize'' them (cf. Shokeid, 1984); (3) The Six-Day War of 1967, which, on the one hand, reinforced traditional and messianic conceptions of Israel, following the occupation of the whole of the biblical Land of Israel (Kimmerling, 1985), and, on the other, brought under Israeli domination about a million Arabs, who are not citizens of the state; and, finally, (4) The October War of 1973, which damaged the prestige of the old-timer leadership and shook the confidence of the wider public in the ideological and political premises which it represented. The reinterpretation of the nature of the state in neo-traditionalist nationalist terms by broad strata of Israeli Jews has potentially important effects on the standing of the Arabs in the Jewish state. Israel has never developed a purely universalistic civil religion; i.e., one that could equally embrace all citizens irrespective of their ethnic origins and religion. Even the authors of a major work on "Civil Religion in Israel" (Liebman and Don-Yehiya, 1983), point out its particularistic character by stating unequivocally that "the very nature of the civil religion [of Israel] excludes the Arabs ..." (p. 12). From the outset, then, Israel, like Thailand, developed a "civic" rather than a "civil" religion. The symbolization and identity of the polity and the political community were deeply penetrated by Jewish traditional conceptions. "Zionist-socialism," however, which Liebman and Don-Yehiya see as Israel's early civil [civic] religion, transformed these originally religious conceptions into secular ones. Hence, the basic symbols and ceremonies of Israel's civic religion, though particularistically Jewish, initially had no overt religious overtones. In that it was significantly distinct from the "civic" religion of Thailand, in which no such separation took place. The separation also facilitated the emergence of a separate, formalized, citizenship role in Israel, which is to a marked degree more salient and more autonomous than its counterpart in Thailand. In the immediate aftermath of the establishment of the state of Israel,

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the few shocked, demoralized and leaderless Arabs who stayed within its boundaries were in no position to realize the civil rights which the new state ostentatiously promised them. Neither did the authorities intend to put into practice the ideals of universalistic citizenship proclaimed in the Declaration of Independence. The remnants of the Arab population were at first treated as a vanquished enemy population, rather than bona fide citizens of the new state (cf. Eisenstadt, 1985:3324, Morris, 1986). As the Ministry for Minority Affairs complained in a document of 1949 on the attitude of the Jews to the Arabs who remained in the country after the War of Independence: "Despite the announcement that the Arabs of the state who had surrendered were recognized as citizens ... the ... hatred and vengefulness towards them continue. The wide public, whose wounds [from the war] have not yet healed, has not yet adopted a democratic-humanistic way of thinking ..." (quoted in Morris, 1986:108). Though granted formal citizenship and permitted to vote, the Arabs were put under a Military Government, which imposed severe restrictions on their movements and on the exercise of their civil rights; Arab lands were expropriated for Jewish settlements, and Arabs were de facto denied participation in a wide spectrum of economic, educational and military roles (cf. Peretz, 1958). Restrictions on Arabs were only gradually lifted until the complete abolition of the Military Government in 1966, long after the security reasons for its establishment ceased to exist; however, some restrictions on Arab participation continue until the present. Many of the new institutions created by the state, and especially the armed forces, even though in principle universalistic, remained in practice open only to Jews. The authorities also instituted a wide spectrum of discriminatory practice, even though these were often formulated so that their discriminatory intent remained hidden beneath an apparently universalistic language (cf. Lustick, 1980:327). Arabs were, however, granted a degree of cultural autonomy: Arabic was recognized as one of the two official languages, and a separate curriculum was evolved for the Arabic school system, into which, however, many Jewish themes were purposely introduced (Peres and Yuval-Davis, 1968; Mar'i, 1978). The general tendency of the government's policy was to keep the Arabs in a segregated and marginal position in the Jewish state. While they were denied national autonomy or even recognition, they were, particularly in the early stages of statehood, asked to show outward loyalty to the state and to pay homage to its symbols, e.g., on Independence Day, whatever their real attitude may have been. While Arab political parties, such as "al-Ard" (Lustick, 1980:128; Shokeid, 1982:123), were not permitted to operate, the Arabs were coopted by Zionist parties and voted for them or for Arab minority parties affiliated with the latter (Landau, 1969:108155).

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The Arabs at first rather docilely complied with the demands of the authorities, but gradually their resentment built up. Significantly, however, this resentment did not find expression in direct confrontations and active resistance to the authorities; rather, it was expressed primarily in growing support for the Communist party, which, in the absence of an Arab nationalist party, became the surrogate framework for the expression of their collective aspirations; the resentment was also expressed in a growing demand for the full realization of the formal civil rights of Arabs, as promised by the legal-rational character of the state. The response of the Israeli authorities gradually crystallized around the apparently demographic, but actually politically highly loaded concept of an "Israeli-Arab minority": It was recognized that the Arabs found it difficult, if not impossible, to identify with the Jewish symbols of statehood; pressure on them to do so was therefore reduced. The Arabs were with time increasingly permitted to exercise their civil rights and to exploit the educational and economic opportunities offered by the wider society; any expression of their national aspirations, however, was continually denied. This policy was expressed in the words of the Adviser for Arab Affairs, Sh. Toledano, in the 1960s: "I prefer a satisfied to a disgruntled Arab minority." The point of the policy was to find a modus vivendi with the Arabs in Israel. While recognizing that the problem of their symbolic identification cannot be resolved, the Arabs were thought to be able to become loyal citizens, with a partial Israeli identity, separate from that of the Arabs in the neighboring countries and, in particular, the Palestinians, whose national identity began to emerge at the same time. This policy, however, resolved only partially the problems of the Arab minority. Arabs continued to be discriminated against in governmental services and appropriations. Their economic integration turned into a dependence on the Jewish sector, with Arabs working mainly in Jewish enterprises or, even as independent entrepreneurs, subservient to the Jewish economy (Haidar, 1986). Moreover, the problem of the Arab collective identity remained unresolved and aggravated as the younger generation gained self-confidence and learned to avail itself of the opportunities provided by the civil, democratic nature of the state. The impetus for the intensified expression of collective aspirations came with the aftermath of the Six-Day War in 1967, when the Israeli Arabs encountered their co-nationals on the West Bank and in the Gaza Strip from whom they had been separated since 1948. This was for many a crucial, though ambiguous, experience (cf. Reches, 1976). On the one hand, the Arabs realized the socioeconomic gap which emerged between them and the Palestinians of the newly occupied territories over the years of separation; on the other hand, however, the contact deepened the crisis of the collective identity of the Is-

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raeli Arabs, particularly since the inhabitants of the occupied territories tended to see them as traitors to the Palestinian cause. Since the Six-Day War a gradual radicalization of Israeli Arabs and a growing identification with the Palestinians took place among them (Israeli, 1980; Smooha, 1980; Eisenstadt, 1985:3746). However, even though these trends found expression in radical protest activities, like the Day of the Land (Yom Ha-Adama), first observed in 1976, they did not lead to widespread active resistance, or armed struggle. Even though the number of Israeli Arabs who got involved with the Palestinian resistance has somewhat increased in recent years, it still remains remarkably low. In sharp contrast with the Malays of southern Thailand, Israeli Arabs, though often in radical political opposition to the authorities, are on the whole not involved in the Palestinian resistance movement. Moreover, significant numbers of Israeli Arabs by now accept the legitimacy of the Israeli state and consider themselves Israeli citizens, whatever their objections to the Zionist nature of the state and to the policies of the authorities (Smooha, 1980:41). Only few Israeli Arabs, however, identify fully with the state. Others seek, by acting within the system, to modify or even to transform it. The more moderate among these aspire to strengthen the civil as against the Jewish national character of the state, aiming thereby not only to enhance the realization of their civil rights, but also to increase their opportunities of identification with the state; the more radical ones seek to use the rules of the democratic game for the expression of Arab national aspirations, aiming to transform eventually the nature of the Jewish state itself. However, even the activities of this more radical element rarely range beyond vigorous protest and an occasional display of the Palestinian flag. However, the trends presently marking the Jewish majority and the Arab minority in Israel are on a collision course. This course is indicated not only by the fact that the growing Jewish neo-traditional nationalism is less liberal and tolerant towards the expression of Arab protest and aspirations, even as Arabs tend more boldly to express these; but, by emphasizing the primacy of the particularistic principle of membership over the universalistic one of citizenship, it tends to delegitimize Arab political participation. Finally, by endowing the state increasingly with a Jewish religious and not only national significance, it adds a religious dimension to the political and national conflict between Jews and Arabs, which may ultimately turn this conflict into a disastrous Jewish-Muslim struggleparticularly, since Islamic fundamentalism is concomitantly beginning to take root among Israeli Muslims (Israeli, 1980:257). This exigency may, indeed, bring the situation in Israel closer to that found in Thailand, and make it eventually as explosive as the latter.

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Thailand and Its Malay Minority In sharp contrast to Israel, Thailand has a virtually uninterrupted history of about 700 years; the modern Thai nationstate did not emerge at once, but evolved gradually, in the later part of the 19th and early 20th century from the traditional patrimonial Siamese state (Wyatt, 1984:181ff., Wilson, 1962). Moreover, the basic legitimizing symbols of the traditional Thai monarchy were transformed rather than changed in the process, endowing Thai "modernization" with a degree of continuity-in-change almost unprecedented in any other Third World country (Tambiah, 1976, 1978:1112). Thai society is open and tolerant, and absorbs non-Thais much more easily than does Jewish society. It is thus the more remarkable that it has encountered a virtually insurmountable problem in its recurrent attempts to integrate the Malay Muslim minority of its four southernmost provinces, and that it experienced a more violent conflict with this minority than Israel ever had with the Israeli Arabs. One perspective from which this difference can be approached is to look into the nature of the principles of citizenship and nationality in Thai society and their relative salience. For this a brief excursion into their genesis is necessary. Old Siam, from which the new Thailand arose in the course of the last century, was based neither on citizenship nor on nationhood. There existed no concept of a unified national territory or of a homogenous Thai nation. Rather, the country was structured as a "galactic polity" (Tambiah, 1976:101131), hierarchically organized in tiers of decreasing political control around the religio-political center, the monarchy; the monarch exercises immediate control over the royal domain surrounding the capital, but his suzerain authority decreases towards the periphery, leaving the local rulers considerable autonomy (Tambiah, 1978:113114). The monarch, who was polysemically identified as a Buddhist "world-ruler" (chakravartin), a "righteous ruler" (dhammaraja), a future Buddha (boddhisattva), a god-king (devaraja), and even as an embodiment of a Brahmanic deity, constituted the nodal point of the political system linking the transcendent and the mundane sphere, religion and political community. He was, traditionally, the Protector of Buddhism and responsible for the purity of the religion and for the welfare of societyso that it could realize the precepts of the Buddhist religion (cf. Tambiah, 1976:612). In the constitutional period, his role was extended to become that of protector of all religions (including Christianity and Islam), but he remained first and foremost a Buddhist monarch. Personally, the monarch has to be a Buddhist; institutionally, his of-

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fice is symbolized in Buddhist religious symbols. These symbols lie at the heart of the legitimation of the political authority in Thailand. They were originally institutionalized during the Ayutthayan period (13501767); they were restored in the early Chakkri period (commenced in 1782), but gradually modified over the course of the nineteenth century. Though in this process the monarch has relinquished his claim to divine status, as the historical conception of kingship was emphasized at the expense of the cosmological one (Reynolds, 1977:273), the Buddhist character of the Thai monarchy remains strongly emphasized up to the present day. Buddhist elements are central in royal ceremonies and symbolism; and the king plays a central role in Buddhist rituals (Tambiah, 1976:2259). The organization of the Thai state was also transformed during this period, but its basic character did not fundamentally change. This transformation is related to the attempts of King Chulalongkorn (reigned 18681910), at the turn of the last century, to make Thailand into a modern state and so to prevent its colonization; and of his son Vajiravuth (reigned 19101925) to forge its populace into a Thai "nation" (Vella, 1978). A Thai nationalism was thus engendered, which reached its zenith in the 1930s, during the proto-fascist regime of Marshal Phibun Songkhram, who indeed changed the name of the country into Thailand (Wyatt, 1984:253), thereby expressing his ambition to incorporate into a single nation-state all Thai (or Tai) peoples. The process of gradual formation of the Thai nation-state was, paradoxically, facilitated by the fact that, under imperialist pressure, Siam was forced to cede most of its outlying territories, inhabited by non-Thaisparticularly Cambodians and Malaysto imperial Franch and Britain, so that by the early twentieth century the country was reduced to its present boundaries, inhabited primarily by ethnically kindred Tai peoplecentral Siamese, Yuan (northern Thais) and Isan (as the Laotian of the northeast came to be called). The only major ethnic minority group differing linguistically, religiously and culturally from the majority population were the Malay Muslims of the south, in the area of the old kingdom of Pattani, which was left in Siamese hands, after the rest of the Siamese possessions in the Malay peninsula had been ceded to Britain. The first succesful effort to integrate the country, territorially and politically, undertaken during the second part of King Chulalongkorn's reign, consisted of a series of reforms of the organization of government and local administration (Bunnag, 1977); however, rather than levelling the hierarchical structure of the traditional "galactic polity," these reforms created a "radial polity" (Tambiah, 1978:116), with the monarch as the only, absolutist center of political authority, whose power has increased consistently with the abolition of the semi-autonomous peripheral local rulers. This

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new, unifocal form of government was based on a powerful, centralized civil and military bureaucracy. This bureacracy eventually came into political power in the wake of the revolution of 1932, which established a constitutional monarchy and removed the king from day-to-day politics, even though he remained the symbolic head of the state. In recent years, however, the king again reemerged on the political scene, wielding considerable power at critical moments (Chaloemtiarana, 1976:41; Morell and Samudavanija, 1981:2713). This effort at administrative centralization was followed by an attempt to transform the population of the state into a Thai nation. However, though King Vajiravuth borrowed the concept and ideology of Thai nationalism from the West (Vella 1978:xvi), the symbols of the Thai nation remained the traditional ones of the king and the Buddhist religion, as expressed in the slogan "nation, religion and monarchy" (chat, satsana, phramahakrasat) (Wyatt 1984:229), coined by Vajiravuth himself. The introduction of the concept of "nation" into the Thai political vocabulary was followed, after the Revolution of 1932, by the formal institution of a democratic regime and the attempt to transform the people from subjects of the king into citizens of the state. The novel concepts of citizenship and democracy, however, found initially little acceptance and response in the wider population. Political participation remained limited to relatively small groups, and for half a century Thailand experienced a pulsating pattern of relative political openness, followed by military coups d'état and the ascendence of rule by army cliques which suspended or seriously constrained the democratic institutions. Indeed, in the peripheral regions of the country, allegiance to the central polity is even now more significantly expressed by the personal homage paid to the present king, Bhumipol (Rama IX),by his subjects, during his frequent tours of the country-side, than by some abstract identification of citizens with the state. The political domain of Thai society continued to be vertically structured, as a consequence of the persistance of the Buddhist hierarchical conception of the structure of the world in the political culture of the country. The idea of nationhood, which could be related to a common historical consciousness and tradition, could countervail and ameliorate this vertical structural theme to some extent, by stressing the horizontal and potentially equalitarian theme of common membership in the national collectivity, but could not overcome it. The essence of the contemporary Thai "civic" religion, consists of the "... emergence of the nation as the supreme focus of civic religious identity and devotion" (Reynolds, 1977:275), but the concept of the nation continues to be interpreted in Buddhist terms and symbolized by the king, as the nodal point of national integration. Up to the present, the manner in which royalty is symbolized seeks

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"... to reinforce the conception that the Thai nation continues to be structured as a microcosmic order organized in accordance with Buddhist principles" (Reynolds, 1975:41). While Thailand is thus not yet really a "civil" state, it is important to point out that the emphasis on and demands for a strengthening of civility are presently at an upsurge; the revolution of 1973, which ushered in the period of "open politics" and democracy (Morell and Samudavanija, 1981:97253), was the turbulent expression of these demands, and saw the growing political activization of students, workers and even peasants. But the persisting consequence of that period was the broadening of the basis of political power which came to include professionals and representatives of the powerful business community. The period of "open politics" was terminated by a military coup of 1976, which introduced a period of harsh authoritarianism. However, while the power of the activist students, workers and peasants declined, that of professionals and businessmen survived, and reasserted itself as more moderate regimes strove to return Thailand, gradually and in a controlled manner, to democracy. The basis of political power and the scope of civil consciousness is growing in Thailand despite setbacks, even though it is still limited in comparison with that prevalent in Western countries, including Israel (cf. Girling, 1984; Suriyamongkol and Guyot [1986]). How did these processes affect the Malay Muslims of southern Thailand and their attitudes and responses to the Thai polity? Until the end of the nineteenth century, Siam's suzerainty over its Malay possessions was limited to the confirmation of the local rulers by the Siamese king and the annual payment of tribute by those rulers, mostly in the form of ornamental flowers made of gold and silver (Bunga Mas, Chulasiriwongs, 1980:39; Pitsuwan, 1985:33). However, as part of the far-reaching administrative reforms which have followed the growing pressure of imperial powers on Siam, the central authorities decided in 1902 to strengthen their hold over the Malay provinces in the south. These efforts were intensified after Siam was forced in 1909 to cede most of its Malay possession to the British (Wyatt, 1984:206), and only four Malay provinces remained in Siamese hands. The population of these provinces "shared [a] sense of peoplehood" (Pitsuwan, 1985:51), not only as Malays practicing Islam, but also as subjects of the historic kingdom of Pattani, which once consisted of the territory of these four provinces. The Thai authorities removed the local Malay nobility from their power positions and gradually transferred all governmental functions to Thai officials (Pitsuwan, 1985:33). After the revolution of 1932 which established a constitutional monarchy in Thailand, intensive efforts at integration of the four

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southern provinces into the Thai state were initiated; these culminated under the rule of Fieldmarshal Phibun Songkhram just before World War II (Forbes, 1980). This transition from the traditional, loose Siamese suzerainty to the assertive new Thai national sovereignty over the region engendered a protracted conflict with the Malay Muslim population and created a persistent ethnic and political problem. As the pressure for integration, and occasionally assimilation, waxed and waned so did Malay resistance: "... the more aggressive the central government has become in its pursuit of national development and integration, the more violent the reactions from the Malay minority have become" (Pitsuwan, 1985:216). Indeed, whatever the specific permutations of the Thai-Malay confrontation in the region, the dynamics of the conflict remained essentially the same throughout the period (cf. Suhrke, 1970 and 1977; Alpern, 1975; Haemindra, 1976; Pitsuwan, 1985), although the leadership of the Malay Muslim resistance changed over time. In the first stage, its leaders were the members of the dispossessed Malay royalty and nobility; later on, the leadership passed into the hands of the ulama, the traditional religious leaders, where it remained until after the Second World War. In the latest stage, lasting to the present time, the leadership moved into the hands of the younger generation of radical nationalist leaders, most of whom were students (Pitsuwan, 1985:219). However, the basic symbols of the struggle remained essentially religious Islamic ones (cf. Suthasasna, 1985); indeed, with the penetration of Islamic fundamentalism into Thailand, the salience of the religious factor in the struggle of the Malay Muslims even increased (Pitsuwan, 1985:2447). In the face of the continuous and often violent Malay resistance, the policies of the Thai central authorities oscillated between intensive attempts at integration (Suhrke, 1970) or even assimilation of the Malay Muslim minority, in particular during the periods of dictatorship, like that of Phibun Songkhram (Haemindra, 1976:206), to a readiness to concede to the region a degree of autonomy during the more liberal regimes, e.g., after the revolution of 1932, for a short period after the Second World War, and during the period of "open politics" after the 1973 revolution (Pitsuwan, 1985). However, none of these policies led to a stable solutionpartly, perhaps, owing to the instability of the Thai regimes themselvesbut partly, also, owing to basic contradictions between the conception and symbolism of the Thai polity and nation and the religious conceptions of Islam, on which the identity of the southern Malays is founded (cf. Suthasasna, 1985:3135). We now turn to these contradictions, since in them is found the source of the difference between the Israeli and the Thai case.

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Kershaw (1985:9) has remarked on the "... remarkable capacity on the part of Thai nationalism for assuming Thai identity for all persons living within the present boundaries of Thailand." The essence of the Thai policy was thus the "... creation in the south of a population of loyal citizens, no longer Malays resident in Thailand, but rather Thais of Muslim faith" (Alpern, 1975:353, quoting Fraser, 1966:105). The official stance has been that the Malay Muslims are in fact southern Thais who in the past converted to Islam (Islam in Thailand, 1976:1). Hence, a process of "Thaization" of the southern provinces was initiated (Suthasasna, 1985:4043), in the course of which the population was labelled "Thai-Muslim, who differ from the other Thais only by religion" (Kershaw 1985:8) but not by nationality (Forbes, 1982:1068, Suthasasna 1985:4041). The inhabitants of the region were encouraged to learn the Thai language, while the use of the Malay language was discouraged; the school system was reformed and integrated with the national school system in terms of language of instruction and curriculum (Suhrke, 1970:542; Pitsuwan, 1985:166ff.; Suthasasna, 1985:41). Attempts were made "... to replace the Malay script with the Thai alphabet [but] have so far proved a singular failure'' (Forbes, 1982:1066); the authorities also attempted to change local Malay and Arabic place names into Thai ones. Recently, the Malays were even encouraged to adopt Thai names instead of the Malay and Arabic ones (Suthasma, 1985:4142, Islamic World Review, 1985). To encourage the Malay Muslims to become Thais, and to attract the younger and mobile elements of the population to the Thaization program, the authorities even strove to identify becoming "Thai" with becoming "modern" (Suhrke, 1977:249). All these steps, while imposing constraints upon Malay cultural autonomy, do not in themselves constitute an infringement of the Islamic religion. The basic problem, however, consisted of the demand of the central Thai polity that the Malay Muslims pay homage to the king, as the personified symbol of Thai nationhood, and to Thai national symbols. Given the basically Buddhist nature of the symbolization of the Thai nation, and the Buddhist character of the Thai monarchy, these demands were interpreted by many Malay Muslims as contrary to the precepts of Islam: "... submission to a [Buddhist conception of] political sovereignty has been considered sacrilege [by the Malay Muslims]" (Pitsuwan 1985:9). Moreover, the attempts by the authorities to universalize the role of the king from Protector of Buddhism to the Patron of all religions professed by the Thai people (Islam in Thailand 1976:3) did not help much to alleviate the problem. Indeed, this universalization has provided the pretext for "... the state's intrusion into the sacred domain of religious authority within the Malay-Muslim community" (Pitsuwan 1985:170), by seeking to "purify"

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the domain of Islam, particularly Islamic law, in the same manner in which it traditionally purified the Buddhist Sangha. Predictably such attempts elicited resistance and rebellion (ibid.: 1701). At the bottom of this confrontation lies a deep asymmetry between the Buddhist and the Muslim attitudes towards religious tolerance: The Buddhists have "... no sense that Islam is in a necessary state of contradiction with Buddhism ... although this would be an orthodox Islamic position;" rather, the Buddhists assume that "... all religions will give tolerance if they receive tolerance" (Kershaw, 1985:78); the Muslims, however, do not make this assumption. Hence, a non-Muslim protector of Islam is not acceptable to orthodox Muslims. Neither is the payment of homage to the (Buddhist) King, although from the Thai point of view the demand for the payment of such homage on the part of the subjects to their monarch is a perfectly legitimate political demand. Indeed, the merger of religious and political symbols in the Thai polity easily turned any demands upon Muslims for obeisance to Thai political or national symbols into demands to commit a sacrilege. In particular, Malays "... resented being required to make obeisance to an image of Buddha. This ceremony was explained to them as meaning respect for the sovereign power of the nation. Muslim leaders found this difficult to believe" (Landon, 1949:254). Though such demands were dropped in recent times, problems of that kind have not disappeared. Thus, the Thai Ministry of Education recently initiated a program of establishment of Buddha image in primary schools in honor of King Bhumipol's sixtieth birthday; the introduction of such images in the Muslim provinces of the south has engendered strong protests among Muslims in Bangkok (e.g., Naeo Na, 1985) and a warning from the current Chularajamontri, the head of the national Muslim community, that ''... the matter might spark an open dispute should the Buddha image be placed in front of the flagpole for everyone to pay respect to during the flag-hoisting ceremony" and thus cause a misunderstanding that "... the Government was forcing [the Muslims] to worship the image of another religion" (Bangkok Post, 1985). Similar problems were encountered in the field of administration of the law. The policy of national integration initiated by King Chulalongkorn endeavored to create a national legal system and to eliminate local traditional legal practices. Islam, however, does not distinguish between religion and law; hence the streamlining of the national judiciary system by the central (Buddhist) authorities was perceived as an interference with Muslim religion. Even though a degree of local Islamic legal autonomy was preserved and eventually encoded in Thai law, this autonomy was embedded in a framework of Thai administrative and judicial controls (Pitsuwan,

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1985:114141). Similarly, though the practice of Islam was by no means restricted by the authorities, the Islamic religious hierarchy was administratively streamlined under a Chularajamontri (Pitsuwan, 1985:105ff.), an officially appointed head of the Islamic community in Thailand. Such actions, presented as merely administrative steps by the Thai authorities, were perceived as meddling in their religious affairs by the Malay Muslims. Even the learning of the Thai language in schools was opposed for religious reasons (Landon, 1949:254); indeed, according to one author, "The inability of the Malays to speak Thai is evidence of their opposition to Thai religious beliefs, since Malays equate the learning of Thai with Buddhism ..." (Alpern, 1975:2467). Finally, the administrative reforms brought Thai Buddhist officials into the Malay Muslim region; these individuals were unaware of and insensitive to local custom, did not understand the Malay language and behaved contemptuously and unjustly towards the local population (Bowie, 1975; Sricharatchanya, 1975), relating to it as "Khaek" (guests, a term usually used for Muslims), rather than as Thai citizens (Suthasasna, 1985:3637). Despite the attempts on the part of the central authorities to improve the attitude of the officials, the Thai-Malay relations in the southern province have until recently not improved substantially (Suhrke, 1977:238; Wiwat, 1985). Small annoyances continue to cause friction. Thus, a recent regulation banning female officials and students from wearing Muslim dress at work, since such dress represents an infringement of the dress code, has caused angry outbursts by Muslim leaders, until it was eventually rescinded (Bangkok Post, 1986a and 1986b). This state of affairs created a general background of resentment and distrust on the part of the Malay Muslim population of the south, which provided the backdrop for more active resistance. This found concrete expression in a series of sporadic protests and rebellions, starting with the rebellion of 1903, a direct reaction to the administrative incorporation of the region, up to the Hajji Suleng Rebellion of 1947-8 (Pitsuwan, 1985). The rebellions, though provoked by immediate grievances, took up a nationalist and religious dimension and increasingly drew support from the Malay and Muslim world. Though unsuccesful, they drew the attention of the world to the problems of the Malay Muslims in Thailand and engendered efforts on the part of the Thai authorities to coopt the Malay leadership, incorporate Malay Muslims into the bureacracy (Pitsuwan, 1985:20811) and develop the region. Eventually, the active local population split into loyalists and separatists (Suhrke, 1977); but each of these trends embraces only a small percentage of the population, the majority remaining neutral, but providing a potential source of resistance (Sricharatch

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anya, 1981:26). In recent decades the form of the resistance changed. Instead of sporadic rebellions, several enduring guerilla movements, the biggest of which was the PULO (Patani United Liberation Organization) emerged in southern Thailand (Asia Week, 1980; Davis, 1982; Focus, 1982; Pitsuwan, 1985:226280). Rather than mere autonomy, these movements demanded independence for the southern Muslim provinces, and the re-establishment of a Pattani state (Larnlue, 1971; Focus, 1982:2021). Though based on relatively small numbers (Sricharatchanya, 1981:28), estimated in 1982 between 600 to a maximum of 3000 rebels (Davis, 1982:35), these movements remain visible through terrorist acts, directed primarily against non-Muslim Thais, and cause considerable headache to the authorities. They appear to receive significant support from some Arab Muslim countries, particularly Libya (Asia Week, 1980:267; Sricharatchanya, 1981:28; Focus, 1982:2021). Indeed, the growing resistance goes hand in hand with the spread of fundamentalist Islam in southern Thailand (Pitsuwan, 1985:2447). The Malay nationalist aspirations thus continue to be couched in Islamic terms (see Focus 1982:21), and though the fundamentalist trend has not until recently found organizational expression, it presently poses a perhaps greater threat to the central authorities than the insurgent movements. The recent emergence of a new terrorist movement, ominously named "Mujahidin," formed from splinter groups of existent movements (Sisot, 1986), may well indicate that the fundamentalists entered the armed struggle. However, the insistence of the Thai authorities on the fact that the Malay Muslims of the south are Thai citizens also engendered another kind of reaction: a demand that the government live up to its own principles and indeed extend equal civil rights and governmental services to the population of the south, in accordance with the universalistic principle of citizenship. Thus, among the younger Malay leadership in the period after the revolution of 1973, "The appeals and protests ... are based on the principles that the government itself advocates: freedom, equality and political rights guaranteed for all the Thai citizens regardless of national origins" (Pitsuwan, 1985:219). And the same author continues: "Some of the new leaders seem to be saying: 'If the Malay-Muslims are to be Thai-Muslims living under Thai rule, then they should be treated equally with the rest of the Thais (Buddhists)'" (ibid.:219). It remains to be seen how widespread this new form of struggle, based on demands for civil rights rather than on religious symbols, will become in the future. Much will depend on the degree to which the salience of the universalistic principle of citizenship will grow and become more widely accepted as the basis of political participation, not only in southern Thailand, but in the country as a whole.

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Comparative Analysis The enmity between Israel and the Arabs, and especially the Palestinians, is significantly greater than that prevailing between Thailand and the Malay people. Still, the conflict between the Thai authorities and the Malays of the south of the country has been much more violent than that between Israel and the Israeli Arabs. To an extent this could be accounted for by the greater control the Israeli authorities exercise over the Arabs; however, such an explanation does not go far enough. In the less than forty years of its existence Israel appears to have achieved greater legitimacy in the eyes of Israeli Arabs than the Thai authorities ever have during hundreds of years of domination over the Malay population of the south. How can this difference be explained? The key to an explanation lies, in my view, in the different roles which citizenship, nationality and religion played in the legitimation of the Israeli and of the Thai political centers, and the extent to which their respective roles widened or restricted the opportunities of the minority for political participation and identification with the state, without losing their distinct identities. Israel was, despite the complex Middle Eastern situation, more successful in this respect than Thailand. This success was, in part, paradoxically enough, a consequence of the policy of separation between Jews and Arabs and the marginalization of the latter prevalent from the establishment of the state to the present. The Arabs were not requested to adopt a new identity, even if their particular national identity was not explicitly recognized by the Israeli political center. This center did not strive to create a new "Israeli nationality"for reasons which are closely related to the identity of culture and society, i.e., of religion and nationhood, in Judaism (cf. Cuddihy, 1974:4); hence, the Israeli center did not seek to assimilate the Arabs, while the Thai political center sought to turn the Malays of the south into "Thai-Muslims." Israel permitted a greater degree of linguistic and cultural (but not national) pluralism than Thailand, even as its political center strove to exclude the Arabs from symbolic (as against formal) participation in the political community. In contrast, the Thai polity strove to incorporate all ethnic groups under the umbrella of Thai nationhood; significantly, conversion to Buddhism was an important means of such incorporation, particularly in the case of the hill tribes of the north (cf. Keyes, 1971). Though this strategy has not been employed in relation to the Malay Muslims of the south, the very attempt to "Thaize" them was perceived by them as a threat not only to their ethnic but also to their religious identity, as we have seen above. Secondly, the universalistic principle of citizenship enjoyed a grater sali-

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ence and became more strongly institutionalized in Israel than in Thailand. The principal expression of this institutionalization is Israel's democracy: All citizens of Israel have been able to participate in the democratic process to a much more significant degree than were the citizens of Thailand. This difference is probably partly due to the close influence of Western conceptions of the modern state on the founders of Israel. But it may have been strengthened by the universalistic component of the Jewish civilization and tradition, which has been incorporated into the Zionist ideology. Since the principle of citizenship is strongly embedded in the basic make-up of the state of Israel, it provided the Arab minority with a "foothold" for political participation, and for the formulation of political claims and protests within the legitimate formal political and judicial framework, and reduced their motivation for active insurrection. Even if in radical opposition to the government, the majority of Israel's Arabs have, at least passively and even grudgingly, accepted the legitimacy of the state. Moreover, by struggling to widen the universalistic legal-rational basis of legitimation of Israel's polity, and thus broaden the "foothold" of their participation, Israel's Arabs became ever more deeply engaged in the democratic political struggle in Israel, even though they may have rejected the particularistic Jewish national symbols, which provide the basis for the identification of the bulk of the Jewish population with the state. Since such a struggle is intended to reduce the Jewish and Zionist character of the state, it may well be unwelcome and even vehemently rejected by the Jewish majoritybut it is not illegitimate. However, the current neo-traditionalist tendency among the Israeli Jews runs directly counter to this aspiration of the Arab minority, in that it emphasizes membership in the Jewish collectivity at the expense of citizenship in the Israeli state. This trend affects the chances for an improved Jewish-Arab accommodation in the future. The Malay Muslims of Thailand had less opportunity of access to legitimate political participation precisely because the universalistic principle of citizenship was for most of the period under consideration less salient and less wellinstitutionalized in Thailand than it is in Israel, and certainly not in such peripheral areas as the southern region. Thai democracy went through numerous crises and is still far from being well-established. Though the possession of formal citizenship status is important to the marginal ethnic groups in Thai society as a source of personal security, it does not necessarily engender an inclination for formal political participation, including participation in democratic processes such as elections. Indeed, for many Thai citizens, including the vast majority of Malay villagers in the south, such formal participation is probably meaningless, in sharp contrast to its importance for Israel's Arabs. Hence the Malay Muslims took greater re-

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course to a violent nationalist struggle, expressed in traditional Islamic symbolism and carried through in periodic rebellions and, later on, in more enduring insurrectionist movements. Finally, there exists an important difference in the manner in which the religious themes and symbolism have been introduced into the formation of the national identity in the respective civic religions of Israel and Thailand. It is important to point out that Jewish religious symbols are less offensive to Muslims than Buddhist ones: Judaism, like Islam, is a monotheistic religion; and both religions equally reject the making of images. Buddhism, contrariwise, though philosophically atheistic, accepts the existence of a host of deities; and the Buddha image is its central symbol. For our present argument, however, another difference is of paramount importance: In Israel, the Zionist ideology, though it adopted Jewish religious themes and symbols, has tended to secularize their meaning, emphasizing their historical and national significance, and disregarding the religious one. The principal national symbols of Israeli statehood have, hence, no explicit religious significance. Even if Israeli Arabs are asked to pay obeisance to these symbolse.g., by saluting the flag or celebrating Independence Day, they are asked for an act of political identification without Jewish religious overtones. They may resent or reject such an act for political or national reasons, but not for religious ones. Its performance is not perceived as a sacrilege in terms of Islam (or for that matter, Christianity). Hence, even substantive symbolic participation of Israeli Arabs in the Israeli political community would not be perceived as opposed to their religion and would not provoke a religious conflict between Jews and Muslims (or Christians). Such, however, is not the case in Thailand. Even the modern Thai civic religion, as was pointed out above, builds directly upon traditional Buddhist themes and symbols which infuse the concept of the monarchy, and of Thai nationhood. The king, the official attempt to universalize his role as patron of all religions nonwithstanding, is essentially a Buddhist monarch, in a sense in which Israel's president is not a Jewish (religious) head of state. Conversely, the image of the Buddha is a Thai national symbol. Obeisance to the king as the central symbol of Thai national unity has a religious significanceindeed, though the Thai monarchs have relinquished the claim to divine status, they are still widely worshipped as if they were divine kings; and again conversely, the worship of Buddha has a national, and not merely religious significance. It is here that the crux of the problem for the symbolic participation of the Malay Muslim population of the south is found: For while the Thai authorities may have demanded that they pay homage to the king and national symbols as a sign of political loy-

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alty, and installed in schools and public places in the region Buddha images as national symbols, the Malay Muslims perceived these demands and acts as infringements upon their religion; to pay them obeisance was seen as sacrilege. The Thai-Malay conflict, like that between Israel and the Arabs, is essentially a national and political one; but in Thailand it is expressed in a religious idiom, which in Israel, at least for the time being, it is not. It is this religious dimension of the conflict that endows it with its violent character. Conclusion I have shown how the differential emphasis on the dual principles on which the modern nation-state is based, citizenship and membership, as well as the differences in the conception of nationhood and of its relationship to religion, engender a different dynamic of relationships among the Israeli polity and the Israeli Arabs on the one hand, and the Thai polity and the Malay Muslims in southern Thailand on the other. Though neither conflict is amenable to a harmonious solution, its intensity appears to be much stronger and its nature more violent in Thailand than it is in Israel. An explanation for this state of affairs was attempted in the preceding section. I will conclude with some speculations about the future. The recent upsurge of a nationalist neo-traditionalist ideology in Israel, and the increasingly religious interpretation of the state in Israel's civic religion, has created in some sectors of the Jewish community in Israel a growing intolerance towards the Arabs. This intolerance is directed primarily towards the Arabs of the occupied territories whose presence there would pose an insupperable dilemma in the case that these territories were formally annexed by the state of Israel. If the Arabs of the territories were granted full civil rights, the Jewish national character of Israel would be jeopardized; but, if they were not granted such rights, the state would lose its civil, democratic character (Cohen, 1985). Some Jewish nationalist groups therefore advocate a policy intended to encourage the Arabs to leave; extremists in fact demand their straightforward expulsion. Any such policy, though directed against the Arabs of the occupied territories, will doubtlessly also reflect on Jewish-Arab relations within the "Green Line" and endanger whatever mutual accommodation has been achieved in the past. Israel may then face the spectre of Jewish-Arab civil war (cf. Schiff, 1985). Moreover, even if the occupied territories are not annexed, the Jewish-Arab national conflict could well take on some religious overtones in the future. Such a reorientation of the conflict may emerge from a parallel ten-

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dency observable in both national communities: the increased recourse to a religious symbolization and legitimation of the state, characteristic of the neo-traditionalist turn in the "civic religion" of Israel's Jews; and the emergence of Islamic fundamentalism in some sectors of the Israeli Arab population. On the basis of the preceding discussion it transpires that such a reorientation of the conflict will intensify the struggle between the Jewish and Arab population of Israel and endow it with a more violent character. The trend of future development in Thailand could well be in an opposite direction from that in Israel. As the central polity engages upon a gradual and controlled transition to democracy, the Malay Muslims of the south could be able to achieve, within the premises of the formal political system, increased civil equality and collective autonomy. Indeed, some younger Malays, as we have seen, advocate precisely such a strife for full civil rights, which resembles that conducted by the Israeli Arabs during the last decades. Whether this will indeed be the case may well depend upon the strength and rate of expansion of Muslim fundamentalism, which is presently spreading among the Malays of Thailand at a much faster rate than among the Arabs of Israel. This expansion may well intensify the violence of the struggle in southern Thailand and confront the central authorities with the hard dilemma of further democratization versus oppression. The former course, while perhaps reducing popular support from radical religionationalist movements, may also lessen the control over such movements presently exercised by the authorities, and hence increase the threat of secessionism; the latter course may help to enhance control, but at the price of antagonizing the population at large, thereby provoking more dissatisfaction and eventually increased violence. Both Israel and Thailand seem to be fated to struggle continuously with an essentially irresolvable problemirresolvable, at least, within the terms in which their respective nation states are presently conceived and symbolized. Their respective policies will therefore probably continue to oscillate indefinitely between liberalization and oppression, as once one and then the other of the principles defining participation in the nation statemembership in the nation and citizenship of the stateobtain the upper hand in the definition of the political community and lead to either a greater degree of accommodation between the state and the minority or to increased violent struggle between them. In the past Israel was more successful at achieving accommodation, while violent struggle marked the situation in southern Thailand; the present trends in the two countries however may well effect a reversal: a more stable accommodation between the Thais and Malay Muslims in southern Thailand, and a growingly more raucous struggle between the Jews and Arabs of Israel.

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References Alpern, S. I. 1975. "The Thai Muslims." Asian Affairs 3:246:253. Asia Week 1980. "Thailand's Hidden Sore." Asia Week 4.4.1980:2431 Avineri, Sh. 1981. The Making of Modern Zionism. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson. Bangkok Post 1985. "Muslim Leader Raps Image Plan." 2.9.1985. . 1986a. "MPs Warn of Muslim Backlash Over Dress Ban." 9.10.1986. . 1986b. "Muslim Dress Ban Scrapped." 11.10.1986. Bellah, R. 1967. "Civil Religion in America." Daedalus 96:121. Bowie, K. 1975. "The Bandits." Bangkok Post 20.10.1975:5, 7. Bunnag, T. 1977. The Provincial Administration of Siam from 1892 to 1915. London: Oxford University Press. Chaloemtiarana, Th. 1976. "The Evolution of the Monarchy and Government: Institutional Conflicts and Change." in: Thailand Since King Chulalongkorn, Asia, Suppl. no. 2:4146. Chulasiriwongs 1980. "Thai-British Relations Concerning the South Malay States, 18801899." Ph.D. Diss., Ohio University. Cohen, E. 1983. "Ethnicity and Legitimation in Contemporary Israel." Jerusalem Quarterly, no. 28:111124. . 1985. "The Occupation and the Crisis of Israeli Society." Reconstructionist 51(3):2730, 34. Cuddihy, J. M. 1974. The Ordeal of Civility. New York: Basic Books. Davis, T. 1982. "Coming to Grips with Muslim Separatism." Business in Thailand, July 1982:3444. Eisenstadt, S. N. 1985. The Transformation of Israeli Society. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson. Focus, 1982. "Separatism in the South." Focus, January 1982:1322. Forbes, A. D. W. 1982. "Thailand's Muslim Minorities: Assimilation, Secession, or Coexistence?" Asian Survey 22(11):10561073. . 1980. "Legacy of Resentment." Far Eastern Economic Review 108(26) 20.6.1980:2122. Frazer, Th. M. 1966. Fishermen of South Thailand. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston.

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Girling, J. 1984. "Thailand in Gramscian Perspective." Pacific Affairs 57(3):385403. Haemindra, N. 1976. "The Problem of the Thai-Muslim in the Four Southern Provinces of Thailand." Part I. Journal of Southeast Asian Studies 7(2):197225. Haidar, A. 1985. Types and Patterns of Economic Entrepreneurship in Arab Villages in Israel, PhD. thesis, The Hebrew University of Jerusalem. (Hebrew) Handelman, D., and L. Shamgar-Handelman, forthcoming. "Shaping Time: The Choice of the National Emblem of Israel." In E. Ohnuki-Tierney (ed.): Symbolism Through Time. Islamic World Review 1985. "Muslims Encouraged to Change Names." Islamic World Review July, 1985:25. Israeli, R. 1980. "Arabs in Israel: The Surge of a New Identity." Plural Societies 11:2129. Kershaw, R. 1985. Nationalist or Buddhist? The Response of Thai Legislators to a Case of Perceived Malaysian Interference in the South in 2517 (1974), Paper, Regional Workshop on Minorities in Buddhist PolitiesSri Lanka, Burma and Thailand: Chulalongkorn University (Bangkok) 2528 June, 1985. Keyes, C. F. 1971. "Buddhism and National Integration in Thailand." Journal of Asian Studies 30:55168. Kimmerling, B. 1985. "Between the Primordial and the Civil Definition of the Collective Identity: Eretz Israel or the State of Israel?" In: E. Cohen, M. Lissak, U. Almagor (eds.): Comparative Social Dynamics, Boulder, Colo.: Westview Press, pp. 262283. Landau, J. M. 1969. The Arabs in Israel. London: Oxford University Press. Landon, K. P. 1949. "Siam." In: L. A. Mills and Associates: The New World of Southeast Asia, Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, pp. 246272. Larnlue, A. 1971. "Terrorism: The Southern Legacy." Bangkok World 2.5.1971 (Part II). Liebman, Ch. S., and E, Don-Yehiya. 1983. Civil Religion in Israel. Berkeley: University of California Press. Lustick, 1. 1980. Arabs in the Jewish State. Austin: University of Texas Press. Mar'i, S. Kh. 1978. Arab Education in Israel. New York: Syracuse University Press.

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Morrell, D., Ch.-a. Samudavanija. 1981. Political Conflict in Thailand: Reform, Reaction, Revolution. Cambridge, Mass.: Oelgeschlager, Gunn and Haim. Morris, B. 1986. ''Operation Dani and the Palestinian Exodus from Lydda and Ramle in 1948." Middle East Journal 40(l):82109. Naeo, Na. 1985. "Muslims Protest Buddha Images in Schools for King's Fete," 9.11.1985, pp 1, 6. (Thai) Peres, Y., and N. Yuval-Davis. 1968. "Some Problems of Educating a National Minority." Jerusalem: The Hebrew University, Department of Sociology (mimeo). Peretz, D. 1958. Israel and the Palestinian Arabs. Washington, D.C.: Middle East Institute. Pitsuwan, S. 1985. Islam and Malay Nationalism: A Case Study of the Malay-Muslims of Southern Thailand. Bangkok: Thammasat University, Thai Khadi Research Institute. Reches, E. 1976. "Israeli Arabs After 1967: The Aggravation of the Problem of Their Orientation." Skirot, no. 1, June 1976:856. (Hebrew) Reynolds, F. E. 1975. "Buddhism as a Universal Religion and as Civic Religion: Some Observations on a Tour of Buddhist Centers in Central Thailand." Journal of the Siam Society 63(1):2843. . 1977. "Civic Religion and National Community in Thailand." Journal of Asian Studies 36(2):267281. Rousseau, J. J. 1947. The Social Contract. New York: Hafner. Schiff, Z. 1985. "The Spectre of Civil War in Israel." Middle East Journal 39(2):23145. Shapira, A. 1986. "Socialist Means and Nationalist Aims." Jerusalem Quarterly, No. 38:1427. Shokeid, M. 1982. "The Arab Vote and the Israeli Party System." In: M. Shokeid and Sh. Deshen. (eds.). Distant Relations, New York: Praeger, pp. 121138. . 1984. "Cultural Ethnicity in Israel: The Case of Middle Eastern Jews' Religiosity." Association for Jewish Studies Review 9(2):247271. Sisot, Ph. 1986. Interview with Fourth Army Region Commander, Lt. Gen. Wanchai Chitchamnong, The Nation 6.5.1986:5. Smooha, S. 1980. The Orientation and Politicization of the Arab Minority in Israel. Haifa: University of Haifa, The Jewish-Arab Center Institute of Middle Eastern Studies, Occasional Papers on the Middle East, N. S., no. 2 (mimeo).

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Sricharatchanya, P. 1975. "Bitter Memories of Policy Brutality Fuel the Fires of Unrest for Villagers." Bangkok Post 26.10.1975:56 . 1981. "Pulo and the Middle East Connection." Far Eastern Economic Review 114(42), 9.10.1981:2629. Suhrke, A. 1970. "The Thai Muslims: Some Aspects of Minority Integration." Public Affairs 43(4):531547. . 1977. "Loyalists and Separatists: The Muslims in Southern Thailand." Asian Survey 17(3):237250. Suthasasna, A. 1985. "The Muslims in Thai Polity", Paper, Regional Work shop on Minorities in Buddhist PolitiesSri Lanka, Burma and Thailand, Chulalongkorn University, [Bangkok], 2528 June, 1985. Suriyamongkol, P., and J. F. Guyot. 1986. The Bureacratic Polity at Bay. Bangkok: NIDA, Public Administration Study Document, no. 51. Tambiah, S. J. 1976. World Conqueror and World Renouncer. New York: Cambridge University Press. . 1978. "Sangha and Polity in Modern Thailand: An Overview." In: B. L. Smith (ed.): Religion and Legitimation of Power in Thailand, Laos and Burma. Chambersburg Penn.: Anima Books, pp. 111133. Vella, W.F. 1978. Chaiyo! King Vajiravuth and the Development of Thai Nationalism. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Wilson, D. A. 1962. Politics in Thailand. Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press. Wiwat. 1985. Letter Column: "A Cry from Thai Muslims." 25.11.1985, 45. (Thai) Wyatt, D. K. 1984. Thailand: A Short History. London: Yale University Press.

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4 Jewish Organized Labor and the Palestinians: A Study of State/Society Relations in Israel Michael Shalev Introduction From a comparative perspective, two of the most distinctive features of the relationship between the state and "civil society" in Israel are (1) the fuzziness of the state/society boundary, and (2) the anomalous (for a liberal democracy) status of the Arab minority. (1) In Sharkansky's (1979) terminology, the Israeli state is characterized by exceptionally wide and diffuse "margins." Lying on the margins of the state are not only a wide range of bodies which are state-owned or financed (public corporations, universities, etc), but also a number of unique institutionsthe most important of which are the Histadrut (central labor organization) and the Jewish Agencywhose existence preceded Israeli sovereignty, and which have continued since then to perform quasi-state functions, most notably in the field of social services. Indeed, the Histadrut is more personally meaningful to most of its members (who comprise some three-quarters of all Israeli citizens) as a provider of primary health care than as a trade union roof organization. 1 (2) The "anomaly" of the Arabs' political position in Israel is that, while formally fully fledged members of a democratic polity organized along universalistic lines, these citizens are subject to a wide range of incentives and controls which render them far more subordinate than Jewish Israelis to the will of the (Jewish) politicans and bureaurcrats who manage the state (Lustick, 1980; Smooha, 1982). The circumstances of the Palestinians in the occupied West Bank and Gaza are also anomalous, but far less subtly so. Economically closely integrated into the economy of pre-1967 Israel (many work in Israel or for Israelis, and "trade" is highly developed), they

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nevertheless remain residentially segregated and politically excluded, formally as well as factually. This chapter examines an issuethe policies of the Histadrut in relation to Arab workersin which both the institutional permeability of the state/society boundary, and the "balkanization" of Jewish and non-Jewish state/society relations, figure prominently. The central analytical assumption is that the case of the Histadrut and the Palestinians demonstrates the important role played by the political and economic dynamics of the labor market in shaping the distinctive pattern of state/society relations in Israel. This, it should be noted, is an argument which departs quite sharply from the voluntaristic and "purely political" style of explanation characteristically favored by political sociology in Israel. 2 It is not intended to be an argument for a crude economic determinism, but on the contrary leaves considerable theoretical space for the potential autonomy of political institutions and motives. While emphasis is placed on the role of ''political exchange" (in the sense of Pizzorno, 1978) between Histadrut and state elites, it is also stressed that the tradeoffs between the two emerged and evolved in the framework of changing relations between Arab and Jewish workers in the labor market. The paper rests on a threefold periodization of the evolution of the labor market context and its correlates, the gist of which may be previewed as follows. In the period prior to sovereignty Jewish labor constituted an expensive enclave within a sea of cheap labor and without the political capacities to establish the right to privileged treatment. After 1948 these conditions were reversed and Arab workers became a politically powerless minority, while since the Six Day War an even cheaper and more subordinate pool of Palestinian labor has been available to Israel from the occupied territories. In parallel with these changes in the relative position of Jewish and Arab labor, important shifts may be discerned in Histadrut policy concerning the employment of Arabs: from aggressive attempts to bar Arabs from holding jobs, to permitting their flexible utilization (conditional on Jews abdicating their preferential right to employment), to participating in the construction of a rather rigid nationality-based segmentation of the job structure. The corresponding role of the Histadrut as a mediator between the state (or before 1948, the Jewish "political center") and civil society has also passed through several major transitions. The labor organization has moved from performing yeoman service in presenting the Arabs as the national enemy of the Zionist movement and uniting the Jews of Palestine in national solidarity; to operating on the state's behalf as an agency of political control and mobilization of Arab citizens; to ulitmately competing with the state proper for the right to organize (and thereby profit from) the participation of commuters from Gaza and the West Bank in Israel's labor market.

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The Pre-Sovereignty Context The Israeli literature is characterized by divergent perceptions of the labor market conflict between Jews and Arabs in the formative period of Zionist colonization, when the Second Aliya (wave of modern Jewish immigration) arrived in Palestine around the turn of the present century. The "official" Jewish position, traditionally adopted by historians close to the labor movement, is that as a matter of a priori Zionist and socialist principle, the worker-pioneers were opposed from the outset to the hiring of Arab labor by Jewish employers. The rationale for this exclusionary attitude is self-evident from a Zionist perspective, while the socialist argument was that by hiring Arabs the Jews would be setting themselves up as the economic overlords of a non-Jewish proletariat. An alternative, "revisionist" interpretation, is that the impulse for labor market separatism was essentially economici.e., Jewish-Arab competition for jobs. In time, however, as labor Zionism's socialist fervor weakened, as Arab opposition to Zionism became more violent, and as the labor movement elite recognized the intra-communal political benefits of championing "Hebrew Labor", then the labor market conflict became closely intertwined with the national struggle between Arabs and Jews. 3 A third and more radical version goes one step futher than this, to argue that to an important extent the national conflict was itself the product of how Jewish labor pursued its labor market interests. In this view, neither Arab enmity to Zionism, nor Zionist labor's national hostility towards the Arabs, were exogenous forces superimposed upon the market nexus. Rather, they were largely shaped by conflicts taking place within that nexus.4 The background to the establishment in 1920 of the central organization of Jewish labor (the Histadrut)an event which crystallized the Jewish workers' labor market strategy of national separatism-furnishes considerable support for the "radical" interpretation. The early Jewish settlers faced a problem of "undercutting" by Arab labor which it was virtually impossible to solvewhether by cooperation or by aggressionin the framework of the labor market. The leaders of labor successfully engineered a way out of the deadlock by contracting a historic alliance with world Zionismat bottom a marriage of convenience between a settlement movement without settlers and a workers' movement without work. Jewish workers got the benefit not only of political sympathy, but more importantly, of economic subsidy to themselves and their collective institutions. In return, their leaders undertook to manage the labor movement by Zionist criteriawhich included keeping Arabs out of both the jobs and the workers' organizations of the Jewish sector. The rejection of Arab-Jewish cooperation in the labor market thus rested both on initial market conditions and

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on a political logic which emanated from the manner in which Jewish workers elected to deal with their labor market problem. This argument cannot be fully substantiated here, but it is possible to present the broad outlines of the supporting evidence. In the early decades of this century, prior to the world war, the economy of Palestine was composed essentially of an Arab sector centered around the farming family; a "traditional" Jewish urban sector which survived on charity and a primitive market economy of trade, services, and small-scale craft production; and the Jewish "colonial" (as they were termed) villages, based mainly on plantation agriculture along the lines of the vineyards established by Roth-schild money and initiative in Rishon L'Tsiyon and elsewhere. 5 The worker-pioneers sought to establish themselves in this third sector, which was heavily dependent on the utilization of Arab wage labor. But it was the only one of the three which could simultaneously offer paid employment (essential since the pioneers had no capital of their own to purchase or work the land), and which was consistent with their strategic objectives of manual labor, "return" to the land and to agricultural pursuits, and the upbuilding of the Jewish territorial and economic presence in Palestine. The planter-capitalists were not opposed to these objectives, but faced powerful economic incentives not to participate in their realization by hiring Jewish workers. First, the cost of "reproducing" (feeding, housing, educating) Jewish labor was high in comparison with Arab labor, because of the customary difference in minimally acceptable living standards, and because Arab laborers enjoyed the actual or potential support of village agriculture and extended kinship networks. Second, on account of their inexperience in manual labor generally and agriculture specifically, the Jews' initial productivity was lower. Third, the class consciousness, politicization and organization of the Jewish workers constrained employers' efforts to exert control over the labor process, a threat to both power and productivity. Moreover, while constituting at first only an ideological rather than practical challenge to the existing political economy in the plantations, the Jewish laborers were perceived as a potentially destablizing force in the long run. From Exclusivism to Collectivism Building on the work of Bonacich (e.g., 1979; see also Peled and Shafir, 1987), it is possible to enumerate four theoretical outcomes in a labor market which on the supply side is characterized by a sharp division between highcost and low-cost workers (where "cost" encompasses all four of the dimensions just referred toreproduction, productivity, control, and system-maintenance). If the higher costs of "expensive" workers are to be preserved, this can be done in one of two ways: they must succeed either in

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Page 97 raising up "cheap" labor to their own level, or in developing institutional mechanisms for eliminating competition between the two groups. Failure of "expensive" labor to preserve its differential arises also under two basically differing circumstanceseither its exit to unemployment or markets in other sectors or locations; or else the equalization of its costs down to the level of "cheap" labor. The four possibilities are summarized in the table below. Potential Outcomes of Competition between High and Low-Cost Labor Victory of High-Cost Labor

Defeat of High-Cost Labor

Integration of the Competing Groups

UPWARD COST EQUALIZATION

DOWNWARD COST EQUALIZATION

Differentiation of the Competing Groups

EXCLUSION OR SEGMENTATION OF LOWCOST LABOR

EXCLUSION OF HIGH COST LABOR

The dilemma of unskilled Jewish labor was real enough. Not only was its economic and political attractiveness to Jewish employers inferior to that of Arab workers, but the latter were available in almost "unlimited supply." Zvi Sussman (1969: Chapter 3) has demonstrated the existence of three substantial pools of Arab labor: semi-proletarian farmers, the unemployed, and migrants from elsewhere in the region. Moreover, on the basis of over-time and cross-sectional variation in comparative wage rates for Jews and Arabs and in skilled versus unskilled pay, Sussman shows quite convincingly that Arab competition constrained the wages of (unskilled) Jewish workers during the prestate period. In the early years of the Second Aliya, the pioneers responded to these circumstances by pursuing a radical strategy of excluding low-cost labor. The "Hebrew labor" struggle in this period involved a direct confrontation with both Jewish employers and their Arab employees, with the intention of transferring most or all of the jobs held by Arabs to unemployed Jewish workers. But at various times and with limited success, the Jewish laborers complemented their largely futile efforts to coerce the farmers to accept this wholesale substitution, by experimenting with means of compensating them for the accompanying cost burden. Some of the proffered compensations were ideological. Thus, Jewish labor leaders tried to appeal to shared feelings of national solidarity by advocating the importance of He-

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brew labor for the absorption of Jewish settlers and the development of an autonomous Jewish infrastructure. They also stressed the injustice of depressing the living standards of Jews to the "primitive" Arab level, and the danger that an Arab proletariat in Jewish employment would develop both class and national hositility towards the Zionist enterprise. Some of the workers more palpably contributed to the appeal to national solidarity by hiring themselves out to farmers as their defenders against Arab attacks on Jewish life and propertyattacks which critics argued were in part triggered by the Jewish workers' efforts to acquire Arab jobs. Until both the farmers' security and their supply of hired labor were threatened by mass Arab rebellionsthe first of which broke out in 1921 and the most intense in 1936the purely national comparative advantage of Jewish labor was limited. A second compensatory strategy (in the framework of what was officially known as "constructivism") took the form of efforts to bridge the gap between Jewish and Arab labor costs without insisting on higher Jewish wages. In this vein, the WZO (World Zionist Organization) organized training farms designed to acclimate Jewish labor to farm work even before immigration, thus raising their productivity to Arab levels. The workers established regional "trade unions" which helped lower their reproductive costs by pooling resources in a mutual-aid framework, for which subsidy from the international Zionist movement was sought. Finally, some respite from the cost problem was provided by subsidies allocated directly to farmers employing Jewish labor. The common denominator of all of these attempts at compensation was a hybrid strategy unforseen in our tablelowering the cost of expensive labor without defeating its interests or forcing it to share the labor market with cheaper rivals. A more theoretically predictable tack for Jewish labor was to attempt to segment the labor market by drawing national boundaries between low-paid and high-paid jobs. Shafir (forthcoming) has shown that there were periods prior to World War One in which Jewish farmers consented to reserve higher-paid skilled jobs for Jewish workers, partly in the expectation that keeping Arabs out of sensitive jobs would deny them leverage for raising up the wages of the unskilled. But on the whole, in the prewar period compensation and segmentation proved to be equally limited solutions to the labor market problem of Jewish workers, and no more effective than the campaign to exclude Arabs by confrontational means. Jewish labor responded instead with what may be called an economic-collectivist strategy. 6 This strategy embraced a variety of experiments. Partial collectivization, such as group contracting, implied merely a more cost-efficient way of competing for jobs held by Arabs. Producer cooperatives sought to transfer this competition from the labor market to product markets, where it began to be supple-

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mented by collective modes of distribution to further cut costs and facilitate market penetration. A sprinkling of fully socialized communes (forerunners of the kibbutzim) strove to some extent for total autarchy. The Alliance Between Labor and Zionism While collectivism offered the advantages of scale, pooling of reproduction costs, and redistribution of the surplus hitherto appropriated by the farmers, it was still insufficient to make economic autonomy viable. A further essential ingredient was the participation of "national capital" (the funds of organized world Zionism), both to provide the initial infrastruture and to subsidize the workers' losses. Indeed, it is hardly accidental that the transformation of the avant-garde of pioneers, from wage-earners struggling with Arabs in the labor market arena to settlers struggling to hold territory, coincided with the opening of the world Zionist movement's Palestine Office in 1908. From the subsequent establishment of the first tiny agricultural commune, collectivism went hand in hand with partnership between organized workers and the Zionist movment. 7 The initial basis for the partnership between the two movements was undoubtedly material rather than political or ideological. As Shapiro (1976) points out, at the time the workers (and even the labor movements in the Diaspora with which they were affiliated) enjoyed insignificant representation in the institutions of world Zionism. Indeed, the Zionist movement's largely petit-bourgeois rank and file, and particulary its elite (composed in part of Jewish magnates and closely tied to them as financiers) were regarded as alien to or even the class enemies of labor Zionism. The most important basis for collaboration was exchange.8 The worker-pioneers, unlike other Diaspora Zionists, were willing to make the move to Palestine. They were ready to actively compete with or help circumscribe Arab labor, rather than reinforcing the Arabs' presence by employing them. Unlike the farmers, they sought to develop economic frameworks which would enhance Jewish autonomy and provide the basis for absorbing propertyless Jewish immigrants. Finally the laborers, out of both inclination and necessity, were willing to take on the most arduous and financially least rewarding roles in the settlement process. The labor movement's options were similarly confined. By this time the problem of Arab competition in the plantations had been resolved in the worst possible wayby the exclusion of (Jewish) high-cost labor. Most of the prewar pioneers had deserted Palestine, and the minority which remained had deserted wage labor in agriculture. The emergent alternative of communitarian rural settlement was unrealistic without massive aid from world Zionism.

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In 1920, when the Histadrut was established, urban labor organizations committed to conventional trade union activity (i.e., struggles with employers over employment security, job rewards and control of the labor process) were weakly developed in practice, and of little interest to the Zionist labor movement in principle. But by the middle of the decade the vast majority of Histadrut members were wage-earners in the towns and expectations regarding economic collectivism had been scaled down, alongside the emergence of a vigorous (if still primitive) urban market economy in the wake of the Fourth Aliya. Nevertheless, trade unionism retained its marginal status in the Histadrut's institutional design and the leadership exerted considerable efforts to restrain workers' pursuit of their immediate interests in the context of the employment relation. At bottom, "pure and simple" unionism was at odds with the labor movement's national role. The labor elite believed that trade union pressure ought to be directed towards reserving jobs in the Jewish sector for Histadrut members and safeguarding the "Jewish minimum" wagebut without discouraging investment and harming the country's "absorptive capacity." Another consideration prompting the labor elite's opposition to unhampered trade unionismbut one which was not made explicitwas the fear that the logic of collective action in the market arena might lead Jewish workers to join forces with their Arab counterparts in struggles against Jewish employers. This would have contradicted the core commitment of the labor movement (in the context of its alliance with Zionism) to placing the Jewish working class at the head of the nation-building struggle. So long as Jewish workers constituted a minority of the labor force, and one lacking the political power to impose limits on Arab labor supply, they also had no incentive from a selfinterested labor market perspective to act in solidarity with Arab labor. By 1927, when the issue of "joint organization" (Shapira, 1977) was formally resolved, the Histadrut's leaders were ready to endorse concrete proposals for united Jewish-Arab trade union activity solely within the sphere of public and foreign employersthat is, those work-places in which there was no hope of excluding Arabs and where the best prospects for Jewish employment lay in pushing Arab wages up to Jewish levels. To preserve the Histadrut's character as the instrument of the national interst of Jewish workers, even this limited unionization of Arab labor would not be actively encouraged and it would proceed in a separate Arab-only framework (which, in conjunction with the Histadrut, would officially constitute the "Palestine Labor League"). As Chaim Arlosoroff, a leader of the major Zionist labor party and an economist by training pointed out to the supporters of joint organization, no matter how many Arabs were organized alongside Jewish workers, Jew-

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ish employers would always be able to find other Arabs willing to undercut their wage standards. Yet it is difficult to escape the impression that rather than seeking to dull this tension, the leaders of Jewish organized labor acted to exacerbate it. The most conspicuous example of this covert policy occurred when the economy was in the throes of an economic crisis (192627) and the Histadrut initiated the deliberate transfer of thousands of unemployed workers from the towns to the agricultural colonies, where they would inevitably be thrown into competition with Arabs over the distribution of employment. In the event, however, the embittered urbanites, together with leftist newcomers to the country and veteran pioneers who realized that the Zionist movement lacked the means to realize their dream of communal settlement, joined together in support of Arab-Jewish trade union struggle and in rejection of the official strategy of an alliance between Jewish workers and farmers against Arab labor. In response, and fortified by fears aroused by the 1929 Arab "disturbances," Ben-Gurion and his colleagues heightened their rhetoric against the Arab worker as the Jews' national rival, warning their supporters that solidarity with the non-Jewish proletariat would not provide them with insurance against Arab opposition to Jewish immigration or violence against Jewish life and property. Towards Jewish Segregation and Insulation With economic recovery at the end of the twenties, the stimulus of mutual desperation was removed from the campaign for "workers' brotherhood" (as the movement for joint organization was named). The Histadrut officially set up the rudiments of a segregated structure for activity among Arab labora central Arab Department; special "clubs" and other local activities to foster Arab sympathy; and separate unions for Arab workers in mixed localities (mainly Haifa) and branches (notably the railways). In the same year (1930) the two major labor movement parties combined to form Mapai (Palestine Workers' Party), which rapidly became the most powerful political force in the Yishuv (Jewish community of Palestine) and the world Zionist movement. Concurrently, as a result of rapid economic growth associated with the "German Aliya" (ca 193336), the immanent conflict between high (Jewish) and low-cost (Arab) labor was for the most part resolved by the absence of most Arabs from the labor markets inhabited by Jewish workers. Precisely at this point, when the material basis for the national struggle had weakened, the Mapai leadership stepped up its commitment to the sanctity of all-Jewish labor and supported violent efforts to force Arabs out of their jobsefforts impregnated with racist and nationalist rhetoric which

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parts of the labor elite considered to possess considerable "educational" value. 9 The targets of this "education" were, on the one hand, the rank and file of the Jewish labor movement and on the other, the members of non-labor strata which Mapai leaders regarded as essential allies in their contemporary political struggle against both left and rightwing challengers within the Zionist community. In response to calls from the left for more militant class struggle, these leaders turned to Jewish workers with an appealcouched in the lexicon of class struggleto direct their aggression towards Arab labor; and they endowed this aggression with a higher national purpose. To potential allies outside of the organized working class, the labor movement successfully portrayed itself as locked in a struggle (against both Arab workers and unpatriotic Jewish employers) on which the very viability of the Zionist project hingedthereby enhancing its reputation for Zionist achievement and blunting the critique mounted by Zionism's militant right wing.10 The Arab general strike, and the subsequent reluctance of some Jewish employers of Arab workers to rehire them, marked the beginning of the end of Arab employment in the Jewish sector. The process was completed by the dramatic decline of the citrus branch (the principal employer of Arabs) before and during World War Two. The urban Jewish economy was dominated during the war by an industrial boom generated by orders from the British military. The consequent labor shortage made it easy for Jewish workers to prevent potential Arab penetration. In the end, then, it was the conjunction of the ascendancy of the national conflict with dramatic shifts in the economic structure and conjuncture, which made it possible for Jewish labor to achieve relative insulation from Arab competition through the device of near-total exclusion. This was a far cry from the abysmal failure of the Jewish pioneers early in the century to evict Arabs from the workforces of Jewish farmers. Yet it was this very failure which had taught the pioneers' leaders a historic lesson: that unless the Arabs could be defined as the national enemies of all Jews, bourgeois as well as proletariat, there was little hope of "conquering" jobs for which the Jews were overpriced. The alternative to keeping Arabs out was to allow them into inferior jobs and reserve the better work for Jews; but this required that Jewish wages be subsidized. In the absence of a state apparatus responsive to Jewish labor's interests, the only possible source of subsidy was the Zionist movement, whose priorities (of Jewish settlement and economic self-sufficiency) were clearly inconsistent with the creation of a segmented binational labor market in the Jewish sector of the economy. This taught the Jewish labor movement in Palestine a second historic lesson, the one which underpinned the creation of a roof organization of Jewish

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labor deeply committed to the fulfillment of Zionist tasks: it demonstrated the advantages of an alliance with organized Zionism over the alternative of genuine class solidarity. After 1948: "Why Not Equalization? It was suggested earlier that where high and low-cost workers share the same labor market, the former are likely to face a choice between three strategies for preventing the loss of their wage advantage: upward equalization, the exclusion of low-cost labor, or the segmentation of jobs on the basis of a "caste" boundary between the otherwise competing groups of workers. We have seen that the predominant strategy of the Jewish labor movement in Mandatory Palestine was one of exclusion. But following the creation of the State of Israel in 1948, exclusion began to be overtaken by a strategy of segmentationspecifically, Arabs' confinement to different positions and conditions in the labor market, coupled with their partial incorporation into the Histadrut along segregated lines. That a policy of protecting Jewish employment by denying jobs to Arabs gradually became outmoded after 1948 is not surprising, if only for the reason that Jewish labor was no longer outnumbered by a potentially open-ended supply of Arab competitors. The interesting question is why the segmentation solution won out over the alternative of upward equalizationthe full integration of Arab citizens into both the Histadrut and the labor market. During 194849 the Jewish sector of Palestine succeeded in erecting and defending a State capable of ensuring that the new Arab Israelisa frightened and defeated minorityposed little danger to the fulfillment of the Zionist dream. Under these circumstances the Jewish labor movement, and particularly its left wing, might have been expected to finally embrace in practice the principle of binational class solidarity. In Rosenfeld's words (1978:387), in the postsovereignty context "The barriers that the Jewish workers movement had interposed between it and the Arab masses were now down." Not only were the Jews now the politically dominant and expanding majority, but those Arabs who remained within Israel's borders were also less of a threat to Jewish national interests because the mass flight of their compatriots had severed those who remained from the influence of their former economic and religious leaders, who had vigorously opposed both Zionism and socialism. And too, an argument which had in the past often been voiced by Labor Zioniststhat the Arabs were "unorganizable" because of their internal divisions and continued ties to village agriculture 11was outmoded by the nature of the Arab labor force after 1948: much of it was already (or would soon become) fully proletaria-

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nized, and internal religious and other cleavages within the emergent Palestinian working class were substantially weaker than in the past. To understand the failure of the inclusion option it is necessary to grasp the historical context, which included a variety of forces anitithetical to the labor movement fulfilling its longstanding formal aspiration for truly class-wide solidarity. Some of these forces were unrelated to either the particular character of the Histadrut or contemporary market conditions. At the organizational level, as Lustick (1980:168) has pointed out, all of the nationbuilding instruments of the Yishuv (including the Histadrut) were alike in ''projecting and institutionalizing" pro-Jewish and anti-Arab behaviours into the post-sovereignty era. At the subjective level, the long legacy of national and economic struggle with the Arabs, now joined by a bloody war for Jewish sovereignty, had hardened the hearts of most Jews against the Palestinian Arabs. Fears that Arab citizens would act as a fifth column to undermine Israel's security further intensified these biases. In the early years, there were thosenot only on the nationalist right, but also within Mapaiwho hoped that the Arabs of Israel would literally disappear, and the government was accused of systematic harassment in pursuit of this eventuality. 12 Subsequently, while both Jews and Arabs largely came to perceive the existence of an Arab minority as permanent, Jewish suspicions persisted, feeding upon the continuing external conflict with the Arab states and terrorist activity within Israel. But independently of genuine security considerations, all policy-makers shared the view that territorial concentration of Israeli Arabs in strategic areas, or the emergence of political and economic independence in the "Arab sector," would constitute tangible threats to Israel's character as a Jewish State. Steps towards integration in all spheres were put off on the grounds that they must await the stabilization of relations between Israel and the surrounding Arab countries (Smooha, 1982). The Politics and Economics of Exclusion That the broader geopolitical context of Arab-Jewish relations profoundly affected the Histadrut's post-sovereignty policy towards Palestinian labor is pointedly demonstrated by the "deviant" turn that this policy took during the interim period between the UN resolution in favor of partition (November, 1947) and Israel's declaration of independence (and the subsequent military conflict) in May 1948.13 An internal Mapai committee on "Problems of the Histadrut in the [Future] State" headed by the labor organization's next Secretary-General, Pinhas Lavon, recommended early in 1948 that the Histadrut should (a) open up its labor exchanges to Arabs, (b) support

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"very close to" wage equalization, and (c) move in the direction of full organizational integration of non-Jewish workers. From a narrow labor market perspective these were surprisingly generous recommendations. For although the Jewish state forseen by the UN would have excluded the major loci of Arab settlement in Palestine, the anticipated arrival following statehood of masses of Jewish immigrants, combined with the expectation of an open economic border between the two new states, was bound to revive Jewish-Arab competition for scarce jobs in the short run. It can only be concluded that the political calculus of the Histadrut elite had retained its "functional autonomy." The most important consideration at work was presumably the need from a state-building perspective not to alienate the future Arab minority, in order not to endanger either relations between the anticipated Jewish state (with extremely vulnerable borders) and its neighbor, or the governability of the Arabs who would reside within its own territory. Harmony would be achieved, on the one hand, by refraining from discriminating against Arabs in the labor market, and on the other by trying to persuade Arab workers (initially in the framework of the Palestine Labor League) to award political allegiance to the state and the governing party, as well as to the Histadrut. Viewed this way, the actual course of events in 1948i.e., Israel's invasion by the surrounding Arab states and its costly but successful counterattack (which considerably expanded and strengthened the initial prewar borders)had a double significance. Not only were Jewish hearts hardened, but there was now no basis for the expectations of geopolitical vulnerability and economic integration which had earlier encouraged Mapai to support an equalization strategy for the Jewish labor movement. The leaders of a relatively well-secured state with demonstrated military superiority, with economically and politically closed borders, and in which Jews outnumbered Arabs by more than six to one, saw little incentive to adopt a conciliatory stance. Arab citizens were literally sealed off under a regime of military rule which was more than capable of combatting any danger they posed to either the authority of the state or Mapai's standing at the polls. 14 The shift in the political climate for collaboration between Jewish and Arab labor after 1948 was not only a consequence of geopolitical developments, but also reflected important strategic choices made by Mapai's leaders in the government of the new State (Rosenfeld and Carmi, 1976). The dominant centrist wing of the labor movement found more reason than ever to pursue the political strategy embodied in the earlier struggle for "Hebrew labor"one which sought power in a cross-class Zionist coaltion, rather than a cross-national socialist coalition. The search for alliances with the States and Jewish communities of the west, a belief in the neces-

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sity of appealing to the new Eastern Jewish electorate on nationalist rather than socialist grounds, and above all the wish to construct a strong party-state at the center of the political economy all led Mapai's leaders in the government further to the right. The labor movement parties to Mapai's left (now merged into Mapam, the United Labor Party) opposed this drift. They argued that the labor movement's prestate institutions should retain their preeminence and should bear primary responsiblity for the political mobilization of both Arabs and Eastern Jews along class lines; and they opposed any alliance with the west or abandonment of socialist aspirations. While Mapam was at the peak of its political strength in the immediate post-1948 period, 15 this strength only heightened Mapai's determination to oppose a program which it regarded as utopian and antithetical to the national interest. Even in the Histadrut, where the left functioned simultaneously as an "extra-parliamentary" opposition and as a major partner in the ruling coalition, Mapai enjoyed majority standing and with it the ability to determine the main thrust of policy. Not only was the political constellation at elite level in support of binational class solidarity rather feeble; but on the ground, in the labor market arena, there were powerful forces in the first decade of sovereignty favoring continuity with the prestate Histadrut strategy of Arab exclusion. By 1951 immigration had doubled the Jewish population, in an economy which had only recently begun to enter the modern industrial age and which sorely lacked the wherewithal to finance imports even of food and other necessities. Though large sections of the new-immigrant population were effectively eliminated as a competitive threatby their confinement in transit camps, employment on public works and dispersal to outlying areas, as well as by stiff disincentives to employers to lay off veteransthere remained a substantial pool of immigrant unemployed, especially among the "Eastern" newcomers.16 While the Histadrut welcomed these newcomers into its ranks organizationally and politically, its labor market policies in practice encouraged their channelling into unskilled manual labor and the widening of wage differentials in favor of Ashkenazi veterans.17 Under these circumstances, it would have taken a great deal of political and ideological commitment to binational class solidarity to counteract the temptation for Jewish workers to try to bar Arabs from the labor market. Moreover, this temptation was enhanced by the chances of effectively implementing closure, immeasurably greater now than they had been prior to 1948. A strong state apparatus with the overriding goal of realizing Jewish national interests was now in place, and it was controlled by representatives of the Jewish labor movement. Military rule in the Arab localities,

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where most Arab citizens lived, made it technically straightforward to deny them the capacity to commute to jobs in Jewish localities. Jewish employers had insufficient power to prevent restraints on the hiring of cheap Arab labor, since the public and Histadrut sectors (where there could be no question of harming Jewish workers) dominated the economy, and even private business depended heavily on the state. Steps Towards Partial Incorporation The result of these conditions was that until the late 1950s, when the labor market experienced a transition from substantial unemployment to excess demand, the Histadrut's local institutions took steps to limit Arab employment; while at the national level, it embraced only a very limited program for the Arabs' organizational integration. In this period, access to manual work with Jewish employers was formally controlled by labor exchanges still linked to the Histadrut, which refused their services to the residents of Arab localities and openly discriminated against non-Jews resident in mixed areas. A limited number of special state employment offices were set up especially to serve Arab areas, but their activities were confined to the distribution of relief work. This is not to say that no Arabs found work in the Jewish sector. In the first place, there were employersespecially those specializing in low-paying seasonal jobs (notably in agriculture)who actively sought out the services of Palestinian laborers. Secondly, in order to reap the political benefits of military rule, the authorities had their own interest in allocating the travel permits required by Arabs wishing to commute to Jewish workplaces. (The political payoff was yielded by the distribution of permits through influential figures in the Arab communities capable of delivering the acquiescence and votes of the local population.) 18 Nevertheless, the number of permits made available and the stringency with which the permit system was enforced were distinctly sensitive to the depth of unemployment among Jewish workers. And to the extent that Palestinians succeeded in getting jobs despite such unemployment, local Histadrut Labor Councils responded with demonstrations and the Histadrut exchanges (or vigilante rank and filers) revived the prestate practice of forcibly "lowering" non-Jews from their jobs.19 During the same period the national policy of the Histadrut, grappling primarily with the issue of whether to accept non-Jews as members, made only gradual and limited departures from the traditional principles of excluding Arabs from "Jewish jobs" and sponsoring no more than dual labor organization. Immediately after sovereignty was attained an internal debate broke out between Mapam, which demanded "absolute class equality"

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(equal pay and a nationally unified Histadrut), and most of Mapai, which believed that the national interest of Arab and Jewish workers were too opposed to sustain anything more than Histadrut patronage of a "fraternal" Arab workers' organization (Kantor, 1977:4247). 20 The conservative approach won out, and for roughly the first five years after Israel's establishment the Histadrut concentrated its organizing efforts on reviving the Palestine Labor League.21 Then in 1953 it permitted Arabs to affiliate to Histadrut "mutual aid" programs, and to participate in segregated local trade unions.22 But those Arabs who affiliated were barred from participating in internal governance, and the Histadrut's labor exchanges, local branches, and (to a great extent) health service remained officially or effectively closed to Israel's Palestianian citizens. Accordingly, these tentative steps toward incorporation were met by an equally tentative response. Implications of the Transition to Full Employment During the fifties, then, Histadrut policy could be described as essentially a continuation of the pre-sovereignty pattern. Despite de facto tolerance of a limited Arab presence on the payroll of Jewish employers, and despite limited steps to incorporate Arabs as members, the overriding strategic premise continued to be one of exclusion. The turning-point arrived at the end of the decade, beginning with the admission of those Arabs accepted for military service (a small minority, principally Druze) in 1958; and then in the following year, an official decision to accept all "loyal" non-Jewish citizens as full members. Changing labor market conditions provided a major stimulus. The emergence of labor shortages, against a background of rapid expansion in the construction and manufacturing branches, drew a substantial number of commuters from Arab localities into wage work for Jewish employers.23 Given the relaxation of the competitive threat to Jews, as a result of the aggregate shift towards full employment, and given also that Palestinians were confined to insecure and unattractive job slots (from which under privileged Jews were enabled to escape), exclusion had become an anachronism. Three responses followed, almost simultaneously: the opening of the Histadrut's doors to Palestinian members, relaxation of the Military Government's restrictions on their freedom of movement, and the inclusion of non-Jews in the scope of a new law which nationalized the labor exchanges. These innovations reflected not only changing Jewish interests, but also the fact that the risks attendant upon an end to Arab exclusion were sharply limited by the fact that with sovereignty, Jewish labor had come to enjoy a powerful voice within the state. The new Employment Exchange Law embodied this transition in its institutionalization of

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the practice of local preference, which effectively stipulates that Arabs are not to be offered work in Jewish areas unless the job cannot be filled locally. 24 The acceptance of Arabs into the Histadrut was also effected on terms which safeguard the interests of Jewish workers. Incorporation takes place in the framework of an institutional dualism which severely limits the capacity of the Histadrut's Palestianian members to engage in effective trade union action. Normally, the local union officers attached to Histadrut Labor Councils deal with workers who are entitled to their services by virtue of their residency in the Council's area of jurisdiction. This system makes it difficult for commuter-workers (the majority of Arab wageearners) to address grievances to Labor Councils in the (Jewish) localities where they are employed. Their complaints are filtered by various official or unofficial intermediaries, and are often "kicked upstairs" to the Histadrut's central Arab Department after receiving an unenthusiastic local response.25 The Arab Department's traditional preference for institutional segregation of the Histadrut's contacts with its Palestinian members, on the basis of clientilism and patronage, intentionally left little room for these members to become an effective power bloc capable of changing their status within the Histadrut. On the contrary, during the long period (until 1965) when Arabs were ineligible to vote in Histadrut elections, and the even longer period (until 1976) during which they were barred from Labor Party membership (and hence technically were excluded from the possibility of becoming candidates for high office in the Histadrut), patterns of cooptation and patronage were developed which continue to constrain the propensity of Arab Histadrut activists to militantly press their constituents' interests (Kantor, 1977; Greenberg, 1980:3757). Complementarily, by refraining from establishing local Labor Councils in most Arab localities the Histadrut has helped to block explicitly oppositonal movements (principally the Communist Party) from access to a local springboard for self-assertive action as an internal Histadrut lobby. The declining risk of joblessness, and the strong grounds for Jewish workers to expect that Arab permeation of the labor market would be regulated in accordance with their interests, explain why the Jews did not oppose the demise of blatantly exclusionary policies towards Arab labor. But there were also other reasons why radical exclusion had become outmoded by the second decade of statehood. The transition to rapid economic growth and full employment stimulated employer demand for new pools of cheap and flexible labor. Israel's Palestinian citizens were eager to meet this demand, on account of the state's policies of appropriating Arab land while denying development infrastructure or subsidies to Arab localities,

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and the far less generous social welfare (public housing, education and income maintenance) which it offered to the Arab population (Shalev, 1983). The Histadrut continued to espouse its prestate policy of flexibility towards marginal employers (any Jewish economic footholds were regarded as better than none), and was thus inclined to take a tolerant view of employers' appetite for cheap labor. Another important factor at odds with indefinite Arab exclusion from employment by Jews was the inability of the business sector to expand and prosper without massive state subsidy. 26 Despite the state's remarkable capacity (as a result of gifts from foreign governments and Jewish communities) to engage in the subsidization of capital (Yago, 1976), its resources were by no means unlimited. While for a variety of political reasons the state was willing to subsidize the public and (to a great extent) Histadrut sectors of the economy to an extent which allowed them the luxury of an all-Jewish workforce, the costs of perpetuating a more generalized Arab exclusion would have been very high. This would have required not only compensating private employers directly for the inaccessibility of Arab labor, but also offsetting the absence from the labor market of a low-cost labor pool capable of limiting wage and other gains by high-cost labor.27 On the other hand, under a Hebrew-only policy for employment in the Jewish sector, the state would also have needed to find ways to provide jobs for Arabs within segregated "homelands." This would not have been easy. Either the jobs would have had to be publicly funded (again running into resource constraints); or the state would have had to allow Jewish investments to flow into Arab areas (taking jobs away from Jewish workers); or it would have had to permit and even foster the development of an independent Arab economy. This last course of action was absolutely opposed to the policymakers' strategy of preventing Palestinian citizens from acquiring an autonomous economic infrastructure and, on the contrary, fostering their dependence on stateregulated access to the Jewish economy as a mechanism of political control (Lustick, 1980). Arab Segregation as Political Exchange The interests and priorities of the state and the ruling party not only shaped the Histadrut's role vis-á-vis Arab citizens indirectly (by favoring a particular pattern of Arab incorporation into the labor market), but also directly, by political bargaining which provided the Histadrut with certain advantages in return for acting as an arm of state and party among non-Jewish citizens. Recall that our question is why, once the labor market conflict between Jews and Arabs was dulled by the approach of full employ-

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ment, the Jewish labor movement adopted a policy of segmentation rather than solidarity towards the Arab minority. Although the forces which have been identified thus far were consistent with the move to segmentation, an additional and probably decisive element was that of political exchange. The Histadrut's partial and dualistic incorporation of non-Jewish citizens was part and parcel of the political role delegated to it by the party/state, a role for which it will be argued that the Histadrut has always been amply rewarded. Why did the leaders of Mapai and the government seek out the Histadrut? Basically because in order to persuade Israeli Arabs to vote Mapai and to reconcile themselves to living in a Jewish State, it was not enough just to make them dependent on the Jewish economy and to operate mechanisms of direct supervision and repression (the Military Government). Because of the partial inclusion of Arab citizens within the democratic framework (that is, their right to vote), it was also necessary to develop instrumentalities capable of mobilizing Arab leadership cadres and voters, propagandizing, and coopting dissenters. In view of its partial distancing from the state and the party, the Histadrut constituted just such an instrumentality. Moreover, the Histadrut was in any case responsible for providing a variety of quasi-state social services to which all citizens require access, and Histadrut-owned enterprises were capable of profoundly influencing the economic prospects of the Arab sector. It was important to the state that these functions be carried out in line with the goals of Arab economic and political subordination; and important to the party that they be employed to help mobilize voters. With this "logic of exchange" in mind, let us now consider the important issue of timing. The Histadrut's shift towards incorporating Arabs on a "separate but equal" basis at the end of the 1950s was closely related to changes in the political climate in the Arab sector. The secondary effects of the de facto entry of Palestinians into the wider Israeli labor market (they could no longer be literally sealed off, and the permit system was becoming unworkable), together with the beginnings of economic and social consolidation of the Arab communities, the rise of the Communist Party as a vehicle for Arab political opposition, and the weakening of the Jewish consensus in support of military rule, all had the effect of undermining the effectiveness of coercive methods of regulating the Arab population and mobilizing its votes. This certainly did not mean the exhaustion of the regime's ability to exert various and often exceptional forms of control over Arab citizens. But it did mean that there was a clear need for an intermediary less sullied with the stain of the Military Government era than agencies of the state itself. It is true that the Histadrut has never succeeded

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among the Arabs in casting off "the negative image of a body serving as an 'arm of the authorities and the majority party' " (Reches, 1976:2). Still, the Histadrut was from the outset at least formally detached from the state; it was in the position to provide a wide range of services otherwise unavailable to Arab communities (not only trade union representation but also health insurance, technical education, recreation, agricultural marketing, etc); and it fit comfortably in the network of state and party bureaux engaged in exchange of information and administrative coordination vis-à-vis the "Arab sector." It was therefore only natural that the Histadrut should simultaneously take on the tasks of playing an intermediary role for the party and at the same time "reducing the reservations of the Arabs towards the State of Israel'' (Landau, 1976:4). This interlocking of Histadrut, party and state has received a wide variety of concrete expressions. 28 Much of the labor organization's activity has been directed towards the cooptation of power-brokers within Arab communities. In the past, such efforts focussed on patriarchal clan leaders, but more recently the Histadrut has striven "to fashion a loyal new generation which will identify politically with the state" (Reches, 1976:7, emphasis in original). Thus, the Histadrut has cooperated with the authorities in regulating the allocation of privileges (e.g. the issuance of travel permits in the era of the Military Government); it has acted as a front organization for the selective distribution of benefits (e.g. university scholarships) which are financed by the state (Reches, 1976:10); and it has directed the large pool of patronage jobs at its disposal to young Arab "keymen" on the rise in their communities. The Histadrut has also been directly responsible for activities designed to foster Arab loyalty to Israel. It has been active among university students, not only in sponsoring informational activities but also in offering positive inducements (paid positions) to "hostile" activists. It has used the withdrawal of services (e.g. sporting and cultural facilities) to put pressure on communities where Communist influence is on the rise. And for many years the Histadrut operated the only Arabic-language daily newspaper (heavily self-censored) available to many Israeli Arabs (Halabi, 1981:14). The Histadrut's efforts at cooptation and persuasion have been directed not only at serving the interests of the state, but also towards strengthening the position of the Labor Party in Arab communities. It has taken this responsibility so heavy-handedly, that the head of the party's "Minorities Division" has publicly urged local Histadrut officials to act with "genuine comradeship" towards Arab members and to "no longer see them only as electoral objects" (Cohen, 1983). The Histadrut's party-political role is evident not only at election-time, but is more subtly expressed in the institu-

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tional framework in which Arab citizens have been incorporated into the Histadrut. From the outset there arose a pattern of separate offices within various divisions of the Histadrut Executive, with the major role played by a central Arab Department charged with administering local matters (which for Jewish citizens are the responsibility of more than 70 Labor Councils). The model of segregated and highly centralized control is used by state agencies as well, and has the effect of isolating Arabs from standard practices and entitlements and keeping control over their affairs firmly in the hands of Jewish officials. It has made it easier for the Histadrut to operate "side by side with ... and at times complementary to the activities undertaken by the authorities" (Landau, 1976: 10). But the absence of Labor Councils which went along with the institution of the Arab Department also reflects the fear that the Councils would furnish Palestinian nationalists with an arena for political mobilization and hurt the Labor vote (Reches, 1976). Beginning in 1980 a series of reforms were initiated, under the Labor Party's new slogan of "integration of minorities," culminating at the end of 1986 in the closure of the then-current successor to the Arab Department. Simultaneously, the majority of Arab localities were placed within the jurisdiction of Labor Councils in neighboring Jewish areas where, judging by previous experience (Regev, 1985) it may be expected that official or unofficial mini-Arab Departments will handle their affairs. The political motive for this reform was made explicit by an internal Labor Party review (ILP, 1983), which concluded that where the Histadrut had established branches in Arab communities in the past, this had provided a generous electoral opening for the Communists and was also associated with a weakening of commitment among the party's local activists. "Integration,'' on the other hand, is making it possible not only to avoid this scenario in areas previously under the jurisdiction of the Arab Department, but also to dismantle local political activity which had sprung up around existing Arab Labor Councils (Goell, 1987). Why did the Histadrut agree to become an arm of state and party policies towards Arab Israelis? Histadrut compliance was due in part to its overall deference to the authority of the party and the state (Medding, 1972); but even more important were the tangible benefits it received as an organization. These have included gaining access to a captive membership at low cost (due in part to substandard services, and also as a result of unadvertized state subsidy of Histadrut programs in the Arab sector). More diffusely, to the extent that the Histadrut successfully serves the vital interests of party and state vis-à-vis Arab citizens, this in turn furnishes it with "credits" which presumably come into play when it seeks concessions in

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seemingly unrelated spheres. In short, the Histadrut's relationship with Arab Israelis is part and parcel, however implicitly or invisibly, of the overall context of political exchange. Beyond this, the Histadrut has of course been motivated by the benefits flowing to its core constituency, the Jewish working class, as a result of state support of a nationally segmented labor market. As the Yishuv era pointedly demonstrated, such support is a necessary condition for the insulation of high-cost labor and the protection of its differential. 29 It has been assumed here that a regime of segmentation requires state subsidy to those who work in the privileged segmentwhether directly (as in the case of public employees) or indirectly (for instance, through discriminatory operation of the welfare state). The state is also capable of making a major contribution to maintaining the boundaries between segments by precisely the kinds of interventions which have permeated policy in Israel: both policies on the supply side which lower the "reservation wage" of a marginal group (the thwarting of Arab agriculture while discouraging industrialization, alongside limited welfare state protection and substantially inferior public education30); and measures on the demand side of the labor market which block access to "undesirables" (limitations on Arabs' freedom of movement, discriminatory labor exchanges, and the impositionoften on "security" groundsof barriers to entry into the jobs of the ''primary" labor market). The argument here is not that there has been a straightforward tradeoff of state support for confining Arab wageearners to unattractive jobs in return for the Histadrut's political assistance in the Arab sector. The Israeli state's inbuilt bias in favor of the interests of Jewish citizens, and the autonomous weight of many sections of the Jewish workforce, probably constituted sufficient conditions for the emergence of a stratum of undesirable jobs designated as "Arab work." Even without the quid pro quo of segmentation, the Histadrut and the state have had sufficient complementary interest to engage in the political exchange which has in turn sustained the organizational and political pattern of relations between the Histadrut and Palestinian citizens. This has admittedly been less true in recent years, as a result of increasing political self-assertiveness on the part of Arab Israelis, which has rendered clientilistic political mobilization less workable. At the same time, the Labor Party's loss of control over the political executive since 1977 may have undermined the conditions for exchange between the Histadrut and the state. Nevertheless, as the latest reforms of the Histadrut apparatus in the Arab sector demonstrate, the labor organization continues to try to serve party interests. Whereas, as we shall see in the next section, the absence of a political rationale for segregated incorporation into the Histadrut has profoundly influenced the Histadrut's role in the third phase of its relationship with Palestinian labor. It is to a consideration of

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this new context, brought about by Israel's conquest of former Jordanian and Egyptian territory in June 1967, that we now turn. Non-Citizen Palestinians in the Israeli Labor Market The entry of Palestinian Arabs from the occupied territories into the Israeli labor market began immediately following the war. East Jerusalem was from the outset treated as integral to the State of Israel, and both the public Employment Service and the Histadrut immediately opened branch offices there. Within the territories officially regarded by Israel (and its statistics) as under occupation, employment in Israel was initially prohibited in view of the danger that the labor market (which was still in the throes of the severe economic recession which had begun late in 1965) would be swamped by masses of unemployed workers from Gaza and the West Bank. In the summer of 1968 it was officially decided to allow Palestinians to work in Israel, but on the basis of approval of individual applications by both the Military Government and the Ministry of Labor, and within the limits of an overall quota to be set by the latter in consultation with the Histadrut. The takeoff began in the spring of 1969, when the estimated number of territories workers employed in Israel reached 15,000 of whom only a third had been processed by the Employment Service. During the early 1970s, a period of rapid economic growth in Israel with unemployment at a historic low, the phenomenon of commuter labor from the territories expanded rapidly to a level of 65,000 by 1973. 31 In the wake of the economic crisis following the Yom Kippur War and the first oil price shock this expansion was haltedbut not reversed. Since the late 1970s the numbers have crept up again, stablilizing at around 90,000a very sizeable bloc of the total territories workforce (one third for the West Bank, a half for Gaza). While these workers constitute only a small proportion of Israel's global labor force of 1.5 million, they are very unevenly distributed by branch (half work in construction) and occupation (virtually all are non-supervisory manual or menial workers with no accredited skills).32 Regulating the flow of labor across the "green line" (Israel's pre-1967 boundaries) is the responsibility of the Ministry of Labor.33 The Ministry essentially operates three mechanisms to protect the interests of Israeli workers. The first of these is quantitative regulation. Carried out through quotas in the early stages, this now relies on the Employment Service's practice of referring to its branches in the territories only those vacancies which cannot be filled in Israel proper. In periods of economic stagnation during the 1980s, this has indeed given preference to unemployed Israelis and cut the number of referrals sent across the green line. But employer demand for labor from the territories has not diminished, with the

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consequence that a declining proportion of the total employed (currently down from two-thirds to under a half) is processed by the Service. That this could happen reflects the laxity of steps to enforce the permit system and the fact that in practice most permits are retroactive "legalizations" of private arrangements. A second regulatory practice in which the labor exchanges engage, is to ensure that the range of branches and occupations for which permits are offered to jobs comprises only those which are unattractive to Israelis. The Ministry of Labor is also supposed to implement a policy of equal wages and social benefits, in order to ensure both that justice is done to territories workers and that they do not compete unfairly with Israelis. But the system of centralized collections from employers and payment of workers' wages only applies to the legally employed, and in many cases even then only to a portion of their actual wages. Moreover, despite a longstanding government decree that workers from the territories are entitled to the full range of wage and benefit entitlements mandated by law and collective agreements for citizen workers, this policy is not implemented by the Ministry's Payments Division. 34 The emergence of labor market segments occupied by socially distinct "castes" (marked by different ethnic, gender, national and political characteristics) is now widely acknowledged in Israel. Recent research (Lewin-Epstein and Semyonov, 1986) verifies that territories workers occupy the least advantageous job slots and have been excluded from a proliferation of more attractive jobs resulting from structural changes in the economy. Their presence in the labor market has permitted virtually all groups of citizen workers to enjoy the upward mobility made possible by structural change, although it has not altered the relative occupational standing of different groups of citizens.35 From an employer perspective, workers from the territories have played an important role in several respects. They have sheltered some industries (notably construction) from the need to make costly technological innovations (BarNatan, 1984); filled unstable and poorly paid jobs which are spurned by citizens "buffered" by public education and income maintenance (Bank of Israel 1976 Report:2779); and during economic downturns, they have been far more willing than Israeli workers to accept wage cuts.36 The combination of isolation in a limited range of job slots and readiness for "wage flexibility" explains why demand for labor from the territories has been robust even in periods of falling aggregate demand and rising citizen unemployment. Finally, econometric research by Artstein and Sussman (1977) shows that the influx of labor from over the green line during the 196974 period exercised a significant restraining influence on the general level of wage increases, net of the effects of inflation, productivity, unemployment, and statutory incomes policies. This restraint

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has operated despite hierarchical or even physical segregation of territories workers, their concentration not only in a limited range of occupations but also particular types of workplace (mostly privately-owned firms), and the wide differential between their wages and those of most citizens. 37 The Hirtadrut's Contribution to Palestinian Segmentation Clearly, none of this could have happened without the sanction of the Histadrut. Yet the most conspicuous feature of the Histadrut's response to the employment of workers from Gaza and the West Bank and their emergent role within the labor market, has been its posture of non-decision and noninvolvement. During two decades of occupation, the Histadrut has only on a few occasions raised the issue for debate and decision-making in its highest executive body, the Central Committee. No concrete steps have been taken to enroll territories workers as members or even to incorporate them in Histadrut social services on a non-membership basis. The labor organization supports the principle of equal wages and benefits and is formally committed to providing non-citizen employees with the protection of local unions and workplace committees. But in practice almost the sole contact between territories workers and the Histadrut is the 1% "organization tax" deducted from their wages by the Payments Division.38 It emerges from the records of Histadrut policy discussions on the issue of workers from the occupied territories, that the Histadrut supported the establishment of mechanisms for preventing cheap labor from flooding into the Israeli labor marketbut that beyond this, its leaders were content to allow the pace and conditions of the Palestinians' employment in Israel to be determined by the combined effects of market forces and the government's interpretation of Israel's geopolitical requirements. In the latter realm members of the Histadrut elite, like other politicians in Israel, were deeply divided over the "hawkish" strategy which actually took hold, of foreclosing territorial compromise by tightly linking the economy of the occupied territories to employment in and trade with Israel. But all Israeli leaders, in the government and the Histadrut alike, accepted the premise that so long as Israel ruled the territories it was necessary to raise economic standards and provide employment in order to prevent violent unrest among the occupied population. In principle these economic targets could have been achieved in a variety of ways. Economic development within the territories was an obvious possibility but an unattractive one, since it would have drained resources (whether public or private) from the Israeli economy. Moreover, there was a danger in this case of the territories becoming an economic competitor, as well as acquiring the economic infrastructure necessary for political independence.

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In the final analysis the option of employment in Israel was compelling, even to most "doves," because of the pressure of unsatisfied employer demand for cheap unskilled labor within the "green line." War-related employment growth after the Six-Day Warin construction, in expanding military industries and in the army propercreated severe labor shortages in civilian construction, seasonal work in agriculture, and (in time) lower-level service and production jobs in the private sector. In addition, the state's economic ministers and bureaucrats were anxious that high growth and labor market bottlenecks not give rise to a general wage explosion, and they viewed the entry of territories labor as a desirable antidote. 39 As an encompassing labor organization, the Histadrut itself could hardly have relished the prospect of a return to the inflation, wildcat strikes, and difficult-to-manage conflicts among rival groups of workers which had characterized the years of full employment earlier in the decade (Shalev, 1984). And as the owner of the largest industrial and construction firms in the country, it was bound to be receptive to the attraction of territories workers, either filling job vacancies directly or indirectly moderating general wage rises. Consequently, when in November 1968 an aging labor movement figure from the prestate era pleaded with the Central Committee to remain faithful to the Histadrut's historic principles by seeking out Jewish workers and volunteers to combat labor shortages, he received short shrift from Secretary-General Becker: "I'm not talking about 'Hebrew Labor'. There are branches of the economy thirsty for manpower" (cited by Slutsky, 1985:37). On its own, the Histadrut's acceptance of the labor market rationale for the entry of territories workers could not have sufficed to earn the labor organization's blessing, had these workers posed any substantial threat to the jobs or wages of its members. But it soon became clear that this was definitely not the case. The combination of rapid growth in aggregate employment, new opportunities of upward job mobility for citizens, and extensions of the welfare state safety net for (Jewish) citizens unable to benefit from these trends, made direct competition for jobs an unlikely prospect unless the economy had been truly swamped by labor from the West Bank and Gaza. But the state did not let that happen.40 Whatever the benefits of an "open" labor market from a military or foreign policy perspective, or its economic rationale, no Israeli government would be willing to preside over Jewish citizens and Arab non-citizens fighting over the same jobs, or willing to risk the votes of those groups (mostly Eastern Jews) vulnerable to displacement. Moreover, the Minister of Labor at the time the government was making its initial policy choices had entered his position direct from the Histadrut Central Committee and a prominent career as the boss of the strongest urban union/party machine in the country. In any case,

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the segments of the Israeli working class that count most for the Histadrutnamely, professional employees and workers in "essential" public services and the big state and Histadrut-owned corporationshad ample market and/or organizational strength to prevent the entry of territories labor into their workplaces (except in jobs they wanted to leave), and enough political clout that the state would be obliged to cover the resultant economic cost. The Rationale for Organizational Exclusion If we return to the theory of cost-split labor markets, it will now be apparent that there is little reason for surprise at the Histadrut's preference for a segmentation strategy over the alternatives of exclusion or integration: the economic and political risks confronting its constituents were far outweighed by the probable benefits, especially as the issue was considered after several decades of experience with the segmentation of Israel's Palestinian citizens. Something more of a puzzle is posed by the Histadrut's organizational and political relationship with Palestinian laborers from the territories, since in these respects there was a substantial departure from the model adopted in relation to Arab citizens. In place of a process of gradual and segmented organizational incorporation and a relationship of politial tutelage, we find instead a definite pattern of exclusion. Just as it was argued earlier that the reasons for the peculiar pattern of inclusion of non-Jewish citizens had to be sought in the realm of political exchange between the Histadrut and the party/state, it is necessary to look in the same direction in order to grasp why this pattern was not adopted visá-vis workers from the occupied territories. The fundamental difference between the two contexts is that under an occupation, the regime's need for popular legitimation and the ways in which it can be achieved are quite different to a liberal democracy, however illiberally it acts in relation to national minorities. The Government of Israel need not stand for reelection in Gaza, and neither does it expect the residents of the West Bank to approve its rule. Moreover, a full-scale military government has so far had at its disposal sufficient coercive capacities to maintain the occupation without having to resort to intermediary instruments of persuasion. It is true that the man who initiated the occupation, Moshe Dayan, was receptive to overtures from the Histadrut's Arab Department to reenact its political bridge-building role on the other side of the green line, because he believed that this would further the cause of de facto annexation. 41 But even during Dayan's tenure, there was strong opposition to this line from doves and others in the government who feared the diplomatic repercussions, and from the Military Government and the Ministry of Labor which opposed losing important functions to the Histadrut.

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No less significant for understanding the non-emergence of political exchange as a basis for Histadrut activity among non-citizen Palestinians, has been the state's reluctance to reward the Histadrut with a material quid pro quo. Instead of the 15% of the wages of workers from the territories which it had initially hoped to obtain, after nearly two decades of bickering with the authorities the Histadrut receives only the 1% "organization fee" normally paid by nonmembers, and has been unable to enforce its claim to the standard worker and employer Provident Fund contributions. During the first few years following the Six-Day War, when the system of commuter labor was being erected, the principle was established that in order to prevent unfair competition not only wage rates but also the deductions applicable to workers from the territories should be harmonized with Israeli standards. The Histadrut's enthusiasm for this principle derived in part from the expectation that it would receive deductions normally earmarked for its own pension, sickness and other social insurance programs; but instead the money was collected by the Payments Division and passed over to the Treasury. The Ministry of Labor, the Treasury and the Military Government all have an interest in the perpetuation of this system, which has deprived the Histadrut of revenues believed to run into hundreds of millions of dollars. 42 The Histadrut has tried to exert pressure on the government and the Ministry of Labor by publicly accusing the latter of harming the interests of both territories and citizen workers because of its failure to implement equal pay and benefits, and by threatening to embarrass Israel internationally (particularly in the ILO). Countercharges of Histadrut neglect by public officials, as well as the Histadrut's own international sensitivities, have generated a series of largely empty commitments to furnishing trade union protection to territories workers.43 Conclusion Labor market and political logics, operating separately and in interaction, explain why throughout its history the Histadrut has eschewed binational class solidarity between Jewish and Palestinian workers. Jewish organized labor in Palestine/Israel responded to the phenomenon of a cost-split labor market first by a strategy of exclusion, and later by active complicity in a regime of segmentation. In the pre-sovereignty period the Histadrut struggled to reserve jobs for Jewish workers. It adopted a rhetoric of radical nationalism intermingled with formal endorsement of class solidarity. Today, the Histadrut sanctions an often rigid boundary between work fit for Arabs and work fit for Jews. Other than attempting to reassure Palestinian citizens of their integration, its rhetoric treats both the Arabs and their role in a segmented labor market as invisible phenomena. A transition has

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thus occurred from a strategy of excluding the Palestinians to one of trying to define them as the lowliest labor market caste. In the process, the splitting of the labor market (that is, the differential reservation wage of Arabs and Jews) has itself been transformed, from a historical accident "predetermined" by the transplantation of European settlers into a traditional economy, to the result of "endogenous" policies pursued by the Histadrut and the state. The Histadrut's organizational relationship with the Palestinians has been more complicated than its behavior towards them in purely labor market terms. In the Yishuv era, the Histadrut was committed to playing at most a reactive role in organizing Arab labor. Its leaders were determined to prevent any separation of the labor organization's laborist and Zionist functions or any possibility of Palestinian trade unionists acquiring the capacity to influence Histadrut policy-making from within. In the changed conditions after 1948, there was no contradiction between adherence to these priorities and the gradual incorporation of Arab Israelis in a segregated and controlled format. But following the territorial expansion of 1967, organizational policy came full circle with the exclusion of workers from the West Bank and Gaza from Histadrut membership and the bulk of Histadrut services. Despite the Histadrut's points of divergence from conventional "economistic" trade unionismits profound commitment to national and political priorities and its enormous role as an investor and employerthe labor organization has behaved throughout its history with great sensitivity to the narrowly instrumental interests of Jewish workers and to the economic choices posed by a cost-split labor market. Indeed, the split labor market was the most important factor leading Jewish organized labor into its historic alliance with the Zionist movement and along the path of militant nationalism. But the Histadrut's relationship with the Palestinians has also been a function of certain political dynamics, partly growing out of the logic of the labor market nexus, and partly independent of it. In the period prior to sovereignty, irrespective of the instrumental benefits (or lack of them) of the struggle to exclude Arabs from "Jewish jobs", the leadership was motivated to embrace this struggle because it provided potent support for the labor movement's claim to hegemony over the entire Zionist Yishuv. "Hebrew Labor" not only presented the movement as having taken on one of the most difficult challenges of the Zionist project, but also assisted its leaders to prevent their rank and file from drifting beyond their control. It did this by providing a focus for solidarity and at times also by deflecting workers' attention away from the actual failure of "constructivism" to defend their economic interests. 44 Other political and geopolitical conditions, deriving from state and party-building strategies

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which crystallized following sovereignty, encouraged the Histadrut's leaders to endorse the continuation of Jewish labor market exclusivism despite the dramatically diminished threat posed by Arab labor. When with the transition to full employment the remaining labor market rationale for exclusion disappeared, the Histadrut still eschewed the path of class solidarity. In this it was guided not only by the material benefits which Jewish workers and employers could obtain from perpetuating the economic disadvantages of Palestinian citizens, but also by the willingness of the state and the ruling party to reward the Histadrut for putting its segregated and clientilistic incorporation of Arab members to work in mobilizing Arab political allegiance. The entry of commuter laborers from the occupied territories represents a new phase in the relationship between the Histadrut and the Palestinians. On the one hand, this has been a phase of continuity: extension of the trend towards a racial-nationally divided labor market and the eclipse of "Hebrew-only" employment. Yet also, the new phase represents a sharp break with the pattern of Palestinian labor as an object of exchange between the Histadrut and political elites. The barring of Palestinians from the Histadrut prior to sovereignty, and their segregated "integration" afterwards, are contrasting manifestations of the same exchange dynamic. But in relation to labor from the occupied territories, neither the authorities nor the Labor Party have required the Histadrut's legitimizing and controlling activities; and the price which the Histadrut wished to exact for its services was unacceptably high. There are also indications (the discussion of which lies beyond the scope of the present paper) that the Histadrut's efforts at political mobilization have become increasingly out of place and ineffective in recent years vis-á-vis the Arab citizens of Israel. The implication is that, at least in this area, both the extent and the content of the Histadrut's role as an extension of the state have depended on the interests of the two sides and other conditions for exchange between them. This particular interlock between "state" and "society'' has not been writen in immutable institutional stone, but rather is revealed to have been historically and politically contingent. Notes 1. For a comprehensive Hebrew-language treatment of the Histadrut, see Shirom (1983). The reader may also consult the present author's forthcoming volume Labour and the Political Economy in Israel (Oxford University Press). 2. This is true of both of the most prominent schools of political sociology. Com-

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pare for instance Horowitz and Lissak (1978) with Shapiro (1976). For an important exception to this characterization of Israeli scholarship, in which labor market models are applied to the historical era preceding the founding of the Histadrut, see Gershon Shafir's Land and Labor in the Making of Israeli Nationalism (Cambridge University Press, forthcoming). 3. See remarks to this effect by Kimmerling (1983:50) and the general tenor of the seminal studies by Sussman (1969) and Shapira (1977). 4. For an exposition of this view, see the forthcoming volume by Shafir cited in Note 2. A similar view may also be found in Flapan (1979). The following discussion of the background to the Histadrut's establishment draws upon the evidence assembled by Shafir, as well as other recent work on the Second Aliya period (Ben-Porat, 1987) which is close to the "official" interpretation. 5. The discussion of the labor market context which follows draws heavily upon the survey of the "Hebrew labor struggle" prior to 1929 which appears in the Introduction to Anita Shapira's (1977) volume. 6. Standard sources include Preuss (1965) and more generally, Laqueur (1972). These and virtually all other writers on the emergence of economic collectivism in Labor Zionism are agreed that the initial impetus was instrumental rather than ideological. 7. For a survey of the philosophy of the Palestine Office which also reveals much about the practical calculus on which cooperation with organized labor first developed, see Reichman and Hasson (1984). 8. Arthur Ruppin, the head of the Palestine Office and the architect of its colonization policy, was quite clear about the nature of the exchange between Zionism and the working class pioneers. For a succinct statement, see his article in The New Judea of September 26, 1924. 9. This is not to say that there was no labor market rationale at all for Jewish hostility towards Arab labor during the boom years. Shapira points out that while the so-called "purification" of "Jewish" workplaces (from the impurity of non-Jewish labor) was out of place in the context of labor shortages, the sponsors of the campaign against Arab labor were able to appeal to anxiety among some Jewish workers that Arabs might beat them in the race for the highpaying jobs proliferating in some industries, particularly construction. Despite this, Shapira's account indicates that the urban revival of the Hebrew Labor campaign was not a response to grass-roots sentiment, but a deliberate attempt by the leadership to compensate for the natural death of the struggle against Arab workers in the moshavot. 10. For useful background on the conflict between Mapai and Revisionism, including an interesting analysis of Mapai's success (which however neglects the role of Hebrew Labor in the labor movement's struggle to preempt the right-wing critique of its Zionist credentials), see Weissbrod (1983 & 1984). 11. The argument about "unorganizability" had two components: one, the economic (the genuine problem of virtually unlimited supply and the fact that many Arab workers were only semi-proletarianized) was discussed earlier in this essay. The other hypothesis is a cultural one, which we would regard as of secondary importance at best. The view that problems of language and "mentality" hampered cooperation between Jewish and Arab workers has more re-

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cently been expressed by Shapira (1977). For a case study of a rare instance of binational cooperation which belies this view, see Grinberg (1986). 12. This charge was levelled not only by anti-Zionist elements, but also by Mapam, the party of the Zionist left (Cohen, 1976:328). 13. This section relies on documentary evidence brought to light by Segev (1986:4446). See Segev's book in general on Jewish policy towards the Palestinians at the time independence was proclaimed, and the experiences of the Israeli-Arab community in the aftermath of statehood. 14. On the contrary, non-Jewish citizens proved to be a major electoral asset for Mapai. The party won about twothirds of the Arab vote in the first two Knesset elections, nearly twice its share of the Jewish vote. Both the left and right oppositions called for ending the military government on the expectation that this would decisively weaken Mapai (Cohen, 1976:330). 15. Mapam received 40% as many votes as Mapai in the elections to the First Knesset (1949). In the elections to the Seventh Histadrut Convention later that year, Mapam garnered fully 34% of the total vote, to Mapai's 57%. 16. By "Easterners" I mean those Jews who immigrated to Israel from North Africa and the Middle East (55% of the immigrants of 194951 and 60% of those who arrived between 1952 and 1964), as distinct from "Westerners" (or Ashkenazim) of European origin. The Central Bureau of Statistics conducted its first sample survey of the labor force in 1954, a year in which the aggregate level of unemployment was probably falling due to the onset of substantial economic growth. Comparative unemployment rates for the major Jewish population groups were: Western veterans 3%, Western newcomers (immigrated since 1948) 8%, Eastern newcomers 15%. (CBS Special Publications No. 56, Table 7) 17. Among the Histadrut's contributions to ethnic segmentation among Jews were the major role played by Histadrutlinked industry and agriculture as an employer of new immigrants in unskilled jobs; the labor organization's consent to large-scale public works paying below-market wages; and its conspicuous failure to press for universal social insurance against unemployment and other risks in a context where veterans enjoyed "permanent" status and were eligible for generous seniority-linked compensation in the event of dismissal. For fuller discussions and reviews of the evidence, see Bernstein and Swirsky (1982) and Leventhal-Shartal (1985). 18. For a fuller account of this and other mechanisms of state and party control over Israeli Arabs during roughly the first twenty-five years of Israel's existence, see Lustick (1980). 19. The conditions of Arab employment in the Jewish sector during the 1950s are reviewed by Ben-Porath (1966; see also 1984) and by Jiryis (1976:219224). Ben-Porath (1966:512) explicitly notes that the Military Government cooperated with the Ministry of Labor in regulating the issuance of travel permits in accordance with fluctuations in Jewish unemployment. 20. The polarization of positions in the Histadrut on the issue of Arab incorporation should however not be exaggerated. Even the supporters of organizational unity accepted, in Mapam's own words, "the supremacy of Zionist realization and of the task of ingathering the exiles" (Kantor, 1977:98). Insofar as declarations such as this constituted more than ritualistic deference to the "hege-

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monic ideology" of the period, it is hard to see how the "supremacy of Zionism" etc. could have been implemented without some sacrifice of "complete class equality." 21. I have reconstructed the process of Histadrut incorporation of Arab citizens from a number of sources, including Kantor (1977), Regev (1985) and Landau (1976). In relation to the Palestine Labor League, note that its success is difficult to judge. When alleged Arab enrollment in the League peaked in the early fifties, the number of adherents claimed (Kantor, 1977:2323) was identical to the entire number of non-Jewish wage-earners at the time (as estimated by the 1954 Labor Force Survey; Table 26). 22. See Kantor (1977:2334). Arabs were also supposed to be offered representation in several of the Histadrut's existing national unions which operated in branches with sizeable concentrations of Palestinian employment. However, this did not eventuate in the unions catering to either of the two branchesagriculture and personal servicesin which Palestinian wage-earners were concentrated at this stage. 23. Ben-Porath's (1966: Chapter 2) analysis of the position of non-Jews in the employment structure indicates that during the 195864 period, the major developments were the Arabs' entry into construction, and their persistence in agriculture while Eastern Jews were departing. 24. According to Watad (1966:31) the legislation also entitled the exchanges to remove workers from outside the area in order to free jobs for unemployed local residents. It should be noted also that the establishment of exchanges in non-Jewish localities is to this day grossly incomplete (particularly in the Galilee). 25. The impression that the Histadrut's trade union services to Arab members continue to be limited and ineffectual is suggested both by university-sponsored research (Regev, 1985; Leventhal-Shartal, 1985) and by friendly critics of Histadrut policy (Reches, 1976; Cohen, 1983). Some Arab workers have access to a Labor Council or similar body in their area of residence which may try to intervene on the worker's behalf; although because of the jurisdictional setup, this has to be done (in Reches' words) "almost covertly." But this option is lacking in the majority of areas, where there is no local Histadrut branch. It remains to be seen whether a recent decision to have Arab areas without Councils "adopted" by the Labor Councils of adjacent Jewish localities will improve Arab access to trade union protection. 26. For the economic background, see standard works such as Halevi and Klinov-Malul (1968) and, more recently, Ben-Porath (1986). For a review of the Histadrut's pre and post-1948 wage policies, consult Sussman (1973). 27. It may seem questionable to assume that a small Arab minority in the labor force, concentrated in a definite stratum of jobs within only one enclave (the private sector), was capable of affecting the general level of labor militancy. However, even though labor market segments may be non-competitive in the sense that workers are extremely unlikely to experience mobility between them, wage levels in the lower-paid segment may still constitute a floor level for wages elsewhere. As the opponents of a legal minimum wage in Israeli industry have argued, if the floor level of wages is raised, more advantaged workers will also insist on increases. 28. Unless otherwise stated, the observations in this and the following paragraph

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are based on specific events and practices noted by Lustick (1980) at the following pages: 138, 184, 205, 212, 220 and 2269. 29. An important issue, which the present research has as yet been unable to seriously address, is whether the Histadrut's willingness to aid the state in controlling citizen Palestinians, as indeed the thrust of the entire range of its activities in supporting the confinement of Arabs to the secondary labor market, are motivated by the interests of the Histadrut in its role as an employer. The construction companies and agricultural collectives associated with the Histadrut are heavily dependent on the labor of Palestinians (both citizens and non-citizens alike). But its giant network of industrial enterprises (none of which are located in Arab localities because state subsidies do not apply there) predominantly employ Jews. This is partly due to the implicit or explicit insistence of the Jewish workforce in Histadrut establishments, who are normally better-organized than their private sector counterparts, that they not be directly exposed to low-wage labor. However it probably also reflects the longer term strategy of Histadrut industry, most of which (partly as a result of higher labor costs, but also due to economies of scale and relatively favorable access to capital) is more capital-intensive than private manufacturing, and accordingly more inclined to employ stable high-wage labor within highly developed "internal" labor markets. 30. In relation to education, it is interesting to note that the Histadrut is itself directly implicated in the preparation of non-Jewish citizens for jobs in the "secondary" labor market. (See the analysis of the activities and curricula of the Histadrut network of "Amal" schools by Regev, 1985.) 31. The 1973 and subsequent data are published estimates from household surveys conducted by the Central Bureau of Statistics. The account of earlier developments is based on newspaper reports. 32. For fuller discussions of the labor market position of the workers from the territories, see Farjoun (1980); Portugali (1986); and Lewin-Epstein and Semyonov (1984&1985). 33. For a detailed analysis of the operation and significance of the labor exchanges' role, see Greenberg (1985). 34. For more details, see Shalev (1986). This and other observations on the phenomenon of territories workers employed in Israel, unless otherwise referenced, derive from ongoing research by the present author which utilizes government publications, newspaper accounts, and interviews with officials of the Histadrut, Palestinian unions, and the Ministry of Labor which were carried out at the end of 1985. 35. These findings are reminiscent of earlier work by Matras and Weintraub (1977) which demonstrated that Israeli Arabs were not privy to the "mobility regime" characteristic of Israeli Jews. In effect, territories workers have replaced citizen Palestinians as the stable core at the bottom of Israel's occupational structure. Note however that the research of Lewin-Epstein and Semyonov has a number of limitations, notably its concentration on the prestige dimension of differentiation between employment positions, and incomplete consideration of the gender dimension of differentiation between workers. 36. The Bank of Israel's Annual Report for 1974 (page 307) noted that during the economic slowdown in that year, the wages of workers from the territories fell

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even as their numbers rose somewhat. Summarizing developments ten years later, Zakai (1986) describes the identical phenomenon. This marks an important, if incomplete transition in the labor market position of Palestinians in Israel, from concentration in jobs vulnerable to termination to occupancy of relatively stable job slots on the condition that they exercise wage flexibility. While the economic stagnation of recent years has been accompanied in not a few cases by layoffs of Arab citizens regardless of seniority, it is hard to envisage the return of the phenomenon which occurred at the time of the 196667 slowdown, when more than a third of Arabs employed in the Jewish sector lost their jobs. (See the estimate by the then Prime Minister's Advisor for Arab Affairs, cited by Touma, 1978.) 37. As Grinberg (1985) points out, the restraining effect of territories labor is most evident in the trend after 1967 of a declining strike propensity among workers in private industry, and its mirror imagethe rise of militancy in the public services and corporations (from which Arabs, citizens as well as non-citizens, are in general excluded). Amir (1981:23) notes that alongside the upward mobility which "many medium and low-grade Israeli workers" have enjoyed as a result of territories workers taking over unskilled jobs, "For many unskilled Israelis the area [territories] residents ... sharply depressed their relative wages". 38. In addition to the author's independent research noted earlier, the following discussion of the Histadrut's policies towards labor from the occupied territories relies extensively on primary sources assembled in an unpublished research paper (Slutsky, 1985) by a graduate student in the Department of Sociology at Tel-Aviv University. 39. In the words of a trade union representative on the Histadrut's Central Committee: "When you raise this problem [protecting Israeli workers] with the ministers responsible for economic affairs, they say that in the meantime it is preventing labor costs from rising. If it leads to existing [standards] being destroyed and a decline in the wages of organized workers, that doesn't interest them." (Flexer, 21/7/68, cited by Slutsky [1985:28]) 40. There were of course conflicts within "the state." For instance, a year after the war the Military Government wanted to deal with unemployment in the territories by allowing the residents unhampered access to the Israeli labor market, whereas the Ministry of Labor advocated phased and supervised entry. The forces opposed to "swamping" (which the Ministry of Labor transmitted) prevailed. 41. The Arab Department's ambitious plans for the territories (codified in the "Meshel Program" of 1972; see Slutsky [1985]) unsuccessfully tried to "sell" the Histadrut as "a barrier against the growth of hostile organizations" in the territories. To this end, the same step-by-step incorporation practiced in relation to Arab Israelis was advocated, except that to minimize hostility in the territories and international criticism it would stop short of actual membership. The Histadrut would field a full range of social services and economic enterprises in the territories, with particular stress placed on social and cultural goodwill and propaganda activities (including adult education courses on topics such as "Democracy in Israel"). The Histadrut stressed its readiness to work in close coordination with the Military Government and the relevant Israeli ministries. The Meshel Program must also be understood as the Arab Department's an-

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swer to the "Harel Plan," sponsored by another division of the Histadrut Executive, which had advocated normalization of the Palestinians' relationship with the Histadrut including full membership. Partly due to shifts in the internal political constellation in the Histadrut, Harel's plan emerged stillborn, and the Arab Department conception was embraced in its stead. 42. A journalist (Amir Shapiro, in "Davar," July 13, 1978) generated a conservative estimate of the real cumulative net profit to the state through 1977 as 2.53.0 billion lirot ($137$165,000,000). This calculation however included deductions nominally earmarked for programs of the National Insurance Institute, as well as those which would normally enter Histadrut Provident Funds. A more recent newspaper account of the controversy between the government and the Histadrut over the future of the deductions (Yehudit Winkler in "Ha'aretz," July 17, 1983) cites a Histadrut estimate that the Histadrut's accumulated losses in nominal shekels amounted to some $40,000,000a figure that in Israel's hyper-inflationary environment would represent only a few years of "real" accumulation. 43. As early as 1974 the Histadrut Executive instructed workplace Workers' Committees to accept responsibility for the implementation of prevailing wage and benefit standards vis-à-vis workers from the territories. The effectiveness of this policy may be judged from a 1983 survey of some 400 territories workers "legally" employed in Israel (Bar, 1983). Only 16% were even aware of the existence of a Committee at their place of work; just over 2% said they were actually represented on a Workers' Commitee (although more reported an informal system of direct representation). After many years of ignoring policy guidelines that the Palestinian commuters should be granted trade union protection, many local Labor Councils have now agreed to designate one of their officers as responsible for handling these workers' grievances. However, this system does not bind the local union officers attached to the Councils, who are not inclined to regard territories workers as part of their constituency. The Histadrut Executive has a special watchdog committee entrusted with the protection of territories workers. Employing only one part-time official, this committee has functioned mainly to make general information available and occasionally to put pressure on individual employers guilty of practices which, if or when made public, would cause or have caused embarrassment to the Histadrut. Perhaps the Histadrut's more important policy measure has been its assent to the suppression of Palestinian labor unions in the West Bank. Despite initial expressions of "class solidarity" by the Histadrut leadership, the organization's officials have supported the Military Government view that these unions are no more than fronts for Palestinian nationalism and terror activity. The Histadrut has remained silent in the face of harassment of the Palestinian unions and the imprisonment or expellation of their leaders, thereby contributing to the inability of these unions to provide union representation for those of their members (the vast majority) who are employed in Israela scenario clearly distasteful to the Histadrut. 44. These "positive functions" were not achieved costlessly, since there was a point at which worker militancy on behalf of Hebrew Labor took on its own momentum. Violence was also directed against Jewish farmers and unorganized Jewish workers, which alienated some middle-class opinion. Moreover, when the moment for accommodation with the farmers was finally ripe, the rank and file had become too accustomed to militancy for their leaders to rein them in.

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5 Children's Perceptions of Minority Rights: Israel in a Cross-National Perspective Charles W. Greenbaum, Leon Mann and Shoshana Harpaz A major problem facing many societies is the relation between majority and minority groups within a defined national state. Observers have noted the danger to minority groups emanating from the majority within a state (Gordon, 1975), a danger which could be greater than any coming from outside the state. Majority-minority relations have a direct bearing on the concept of the state; it often happens that people, particularly in the majority, identify the state with the majority group. Thus, minority groups are not only awarded fewer rights than majorities, even in democratic states, but are seen as illegitimate elements. The concept of minority illegitimacy can reach a peak in violence against minorities, of which there are many examples in history. Some minorities, termed "middle-man" minorities (Bonacich, 1973) appear to be the targets of discrimination and violence in many countries. Majority-minority relations are a problem for every state with a heterogeneous population (Noel, 1968). Much of the research on majority-minority relations has been done on behavior and attitudes concerning adults in different ethnic groups (e.g. see Amir, 1969; for a summary of Israeli research see Peres, 1976) or on the willingness of majority adults to act on behalf of minorities (Haan, Brewster-Smith, and Block, 1968). Some studies have been performed on development of ethnic attitudes in Israeli children and adults (see Hofmann, 1970). However, very little has been done on socialization for, or development of, concepts of minority rights in children.

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This chapter attempts to trace the development of the concept of minority rights (MR) in children. We will suggest a model for the development of MR which will take into account both maturational and environmental influences; and review evidence from different countries for the model. We will suggest new lines of research in the development of MR and possible applications for political education and socialization. The Concept of Minority Rights Recognition We define minority rights, for the purposes of this chapter, as the access to resources needed by a minority or relatively powerless group in a society in order to function as a legitimate group in equity with the majority or relatively powerful group. It is difficult to determine the precise nature or amount of such rights; these depend on various definitions of justice in a society and the power relations among society's different groups. Certain basic rights, such as voting, are often considered universal while others, such as the right of the minority group to learn its language and culture, vary from one society to the other (see Peterson, 1975). Since the majority could deprive the minority of rights by democratic vote, the term "minority rights" will refer here to those rights granted by majority will alone. Minority Rights and Intergroup Attitudes We suggest that a clear distinction must be made between attitudes or behavior toward a particular group and the concept of MR for that group. According to our view a person's position concerning the granting of rights constitutes a separate conceptual domain, distinct from attitudes toward a group or generalized ethnic attitudes as measured by constructs such as authoritarianism (Adorno, Frenkel-Brunswik, Levinson and Sanford, 1950). A separate and important empirical question concerns the possibility of a correlation between behavior or attitudes toward a group and attitudes toward granting a group rights. Given the problems involved in conceptualizing the relations between attitudes and behavior generally (see Fishbein and Ajczen, 1975), there is little reason to believe that a necessary correlation exists between attitudes toward a group and attitudes toward granting MR for that group, although some correlation may exist in fact. One reason for this lack of correlation may be a split between group attitudes and ethics. One could feel strong personal dislike for a group or its members, not wish to associate with them in any way, and yet support

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granting them rights. Conversely, one could personally like a group or its members (as indicated in the statement, "Some of my best friends are Jews") and yet oppose granting them rights. In both cases the principles that govern the granting of rights have their origin in socialization for a particular kind of ethics. One ethic which exists in democratic countries and which negates the granting of rights, supports the maintenance of domination of the majority group. Another opposing ethic promotes fairness and equity. One reason that the ethics of granting of rights may be conceptually divorced from attitudes toward a particular group is that ethics and attitudes may develop separately. A second reason that attitudes toward minority groups are different from the ethics of granting rights is that they are not symmetrical with regard to the groups holding them. Only the majority group must deal with the issue of granting rights. For the minority group (or for a very large proportion of the minority) granting MR is simply not an issue: almost all in the minority group will be in favor. Thus, while likes and dislikes could be aimed in both directions from one group to another, MR is an issue primarily for majority groups. (There may be rare cases of minority groups dominating the majority, but these are not relevant to the situation holding in most democracies. In such cases, however, e.g. South Africa, the characteristics of majority groups are taken on by the minority which holds power.) In a democracy containing fixed majority and minority groups with little mobility between them, the minority may not feel that it benefits from democracy at all. Tocqueville (1959) in his cogent description of the political and social structure of 19th century United States society, referred to this phenomenon as the "tyranny of the majority." In an extreme form this tyranny could take the forms of persecution, enslavement or disenfranchisement of the minority; in milder forms it could mean discrimination or not granting certain rights. Without adequate social or constitutional safeguards, the minority will be in a permanently weakened position. Indeed, ethnic attitudes may be a direct result, not a cause of the civil rights which are granted to the majorities and not to minorities: negative attitudes may develop in order to justify the low status accorded to the minority, and positive attitudes may be adopted to justify the granting of rights (see Brehm and Cohen, 1962). We suggest that in order to affect changes in discrimination against minorities in societies it is necessary to bring about a change in attitudes toward MR, and/or education in the direction of behaviorally promoting MR. This approach is different from that usually suggested to overcome intergroup conflict: that of increasing intergroup contact under controlled

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conditions which are presumed likely to foster positive attitudes (see Amir, 1969). The purpose of MR education and socialization would be to foster positive attitudes and behavior toward MR perhaps in spite of a negative perception of minority groups. The Development of the Concept of Minority Rights In order to understand how socialization for minority rights can take place a theory of development of the concept of such rights is necessary. We suggest elements in current psychological thought, when properly brought into balance, will provide a basis for such a theory. One basic source of such thinking is cognitive genetic epistemology as formulated by Piaget (1932) with special emphasis on the development of moral thought. A second source is the tradition of social learning theories in psychology (e.g., Gewirtz, 1969; Bandura, 1977). There is necessity, however, for modification and integration of these theories in order to understand the child's development of MR. Piaget (1932) divides the child's development of thinking about moral development into roughly two stages. The first, lasting until about the age of 7, is that of heteronymous morality, in which the child accepts adult authority unquestionably as the as the source for rules of moral behavior. The second stage is that of autonomy, in which the child surmises that the source of morality is found in mutually agreed upon contracts among people. The passage from one stage to the next is accompanied by a basic cognitive-structural change of which the change in moral thinking is a special case. Another such change is in the child's perception of the role of the other person: the child develops an ability to play the role of other people in a sophisticated way, and understand their behavior in terms of their intentions. Piagetian cognitive theory emphasizes the role of autonomous, structural development in the context of normal social experience as the major force for the development of moral thought. In contrast social learning theories emphasize social experience as the major influence on moral thought. Cognitive theory suggests that such experience could have a major effect on the content of moral thought, but not on its basic structure or pace of development. Social learning theory would hold that social experience would dictate both the structure and content of moral development. Siegal (1982) summarized elements of this controversy. While it is not our intention to settle this issue, we will attempt to provide some insight into the process of development of a specific aspect of moral thought, that of the concept of minority rights.

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Research on the Development of Minority Rights Two kinds of studies exist in the sparse research area of development of MR. One group of studies deals with factors involved in the participation of university students in protest activities which promote, among other issues, civil rights for minorities. This line of research appears to show that there are correlations between participation by young people in demonstrations on behalf of civil rights (as well as other topical issues), and parental socialization. Participants who reported their parents as liberal in their views went beyond these views and engaged in active, and at times illegal behaviors in support of minorities (e.g. Flacks, 1967; Keniston, 1968; Haan Brewster-Smith, and Block, 1968). London (1970) found that people who risked their lives in World War II to save Jews felt they were carrying out the implications of their parents' values. These valuable studies share the problems characteristic of correlational, retrospective research. They do not provide much information on the details of socialization or environmental factors involved in the development of the concept of minority rights or of the tendency to behave in order to protect those rights. As in most studies of socialization it is difficult to disentangle the effects of parents on children from effects of characteristics of children influencing parents. A second, recent set of studies attempts to deal experimentally with MR development and to follow its course in childhood. Moessenger (1981) devised a task in which children make decisions concerning the distribution of a resource between majority and minority. In this task children are shown a set of 10 pictures representing ten children about to go on a bus trip. In the first phase of the task, the child subject is shown that a majority of children express their wish to go to one place, while a minority wish to go to a different place. This is demonstrated for six trials. On each trial a different (shifting) group of children make up the majority and the minority. Since there is only one bus for the whole group, both majority and minority must go to the same place. Therefore, the subject is asked to make a decision on where to go. This decision could favor the minority or majority. After the child makes his decision on each trial the cards are shuffled and the child is again asked to make a decision for the ten children shown on the pictures, with different (shifting) children now in the majority or minority. This continues for six trials. On the second part of the task, the experimenter does not shuffle the cards after each trial; there is a fixed majority and a fixed minority (the same "gangs") on each trial.

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The degree to which the subject child distributes the resources alternatingly and equally between majority and minority in the fixed majority situation represents the degree to which he recognizes minority rights. Stricter criteria, suggested by Mann, Tan, Morgan and Dixon (1984) specify that the child distribute resources equally in the fixed majority situation, and according to the majority in the shifting majority situation, or that the child be able to verbalize the reason for his/her allocation of resources. Moessenger's (1981) study showed a clear developmental trend: Studying children in Geneva he found that while no eight year old could discriminate between fixed and shifting majorities, 75% of his thirteen year olds did. Mann, et al. (1984) detailed the developmental sequence in a slightly modified version of the task and the scoring. They found a "gradual" developmental sequence with more moderate results at the extremes: 10% of 8 year olds, 40% of 10 year olds, 52% of 12 year olds and only 55% of 14 year olds discriminated between fixed and shifting majorities using the same scoring criteria as Moessenger. Mann et al (1984) found that the size of the minority makes little difference in the recognition of minority rights by 12 year olds; if anything a majority of 6 and a minority of one led to more children recognizing minority rights than did a 6:2 or 6:3 split. An Israeli Study on the Development of Minority Rights We performed a study (Greenbaum, Harpaz and Mann, 1983 based on a Master's thesis by Harpaz) in which we compared kibbutz and city children in Israel on recognition of majority and minority rights using a version of the Moessenger task. Unlike the previous versions, we made the task somewhat easier in the cognitive sense by using completely different options for the trip destinations each time. In addition, we wanted to know the extent of generalization which exists between recognition of minority rights, and the extent to which children will distribute a different kind of resource according to the rules of distributive justice. Specifically, we used a task developed by Enright, Franklin and Manheim (1980), in which an experimenter presents a child with pictures showing groups of children who have made drawings, and who could get monetary rewards. The subject is asked to choose criteria according to which he will distribute the rewards. The criteria were: giving to the child who wants more rewards; giving more to the bigger child; equality (giving an equal amount of reward to all children regardless of the amount of work involved); giving more to the one who works more; and giving more to the one who needs more. The order of these criteria represents developmental stages in Enright's scheme.

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The results showed that some children recognize minority rights as early as six years of age, and that little development occurs between six and eight years. A large increase occurs between eight and ten years of age in the number of children able to recognize minority rights. There was a consistent but non-significant trend for kibbutz children to recognize minority rights more than city children. Comparing these results to those of Moessenger and Mann et al., we find slightly higher scores for recognition of minority rights among Israeli as compared to Australian children, but this could be due to the easier nature of the task we used. We suggest, therefore, that a sizable, perhaps universal increase in ability occurs between eight and ten years old in the ability to recognize minority rights. There was no consistent relationship between recognition of MR and distributive justice of economic resources to individuals. This seems to indicate that justice for a minority group may develop relatively independently of conceptions of justice for an individual. Concepts of distributive justice do develop with age: after the age of six, the desires of the child and his size are discarded in favor of need, equality, and work output as criteria for reward. There are trends for kibbutz children to place greater importance on need as a criterion for reward at age six, and on equality at age 10, in comparison with Israeli city children. Studies of MR in Australia and Japan The studies reviewed so far involve hypothetical games, in which the subject is not directly involved in the results. Mann, Radford and Kanagawa (1985) used a somewhat different hypothetical game to compare recognition of majority rights of Japanese and Australian twelve-year-old children. The experimenter asked children in groups to decide six times about the allocation of chances to obtain chocolate bars among majority and minority groups. Here, too, an alternating strategy meant recognition of minority rights. The same proportion of children (around 60%) recognized minority rights in both Australian and Japanese classrooms. However, when the same subjects were divided into groups (majority, minority, and observer) and were asked to allocate actual chances of obtaining real chocolate bars, the Japanese children showed a stronger tendency than the Australians to give the minority an equal chance to obtain the chocolate bars, at the expense (for the majority) of their own chances. The authors interpret these findngs as reflecting a stronger collectivist orientation in the Japanese as opposed to the Australian culture. Interestingly, almost no one in the majority of either country favored

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the minority by giving more chance to obtain chocolate to the minority than the majority. Similarly almost no one in the minority favored the majority. Thus, a large measure of group self-interest ruled in both countries. Nor did the observer groups differ between countries: these groups were likely to divide resources equally between majority and minority. These results are consistent with kibbutz-city comparisons performed in Israel on tasks demanding cooperation among individuals or groups. When children are involved in actual tasks (Madsen and Shapira, 1977; Eifermann, 1980) kibbutz children show higher levels of cooperation than city children, reflecting the collectivist orientation of the kibbutz. There appear to be no effects of kibbutz vs. city origin when hypothetical (e.g., Prisoner's Dilemma) games are used (Raven, and Leff, 1965; see also Greenbaum and Kugelmass, 1980, for a discussion of this issue). It appears that involvement in an actual, as opposed to a theoretical situation in which real stakes are involved is more likely to reflect the socialization toward social responsibility to which the child was exposed. However, a theoretical game situation may be more effective than an actual one in gaining an insight into the child's understanding of criteria for the allocation of resources to others, independent of socialization to a particular policy. The studies reviewed here show that there are both cognitive-developmental and socialization components to the MR understanding. Recognition of individual rights to resources on the basis of equality may occur as early as six years of age, while recognition for the rights of minority groups generally appears between eight and ten years. Yet after those ages there is probably a heavy impact of socialization: Moessenger's and Mann et al.'s studies showed that even some adults do not allocate resources equitably to the minority, and the studies by Greenbaum et al. (1983) and Mann, Radford and Kanagawa (1984) appears to show effects of culture on degree of recognition of MR and distributive justice. A Proposed Model of the Development of Minority Rights Recognition We suggest that these results reflect an underlying maturational process of gaining an understanding of minority rights. The stages of understanding according to this model are presented in Table 1. These stages are represented by decision rules concerning minority rights which a child becomes capable of adopting in the course of his development, approximately from the ages of six onwards.

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Table 1 Stages in the adoption of decision rules related to minority rights A.

B.

Cognitive stages Stage

Name

Rule

1.

Majority decision

No minority rights: allocation of resources by majority decision only

2.

Recognition of fundamental minority rights

Allocation of resources to minority in proportion to their numbers: fundamental minority rights (e.g. fair trial) cannot be removed.

3.

Minority rights for different group

Rights for minority even if different from own majority group.

4.

Minority rights for negative group

Rights for minority even if it has negative characteristics.

5.

Minority rights for threatening group

Rights for minority even if it threatens majority.

6.

Minority rights for violent group

Rights for minority even if some of its members act violently toward majority.

Behavior sub-stages For each cognitive stage we suggest the following behavior stages: A.

No action in favor of minority

B.

Action to protect rights of minority

C.

Social risks (e.g. at expense of career, status) to protect rights of majority

D.

Physical risks to protect rights of minority

As presented in Table 1, the model implies that the child moves from an understanding of majority rule to an understanding of minority rights. We assume that as the child grows older, the concept of minority rights becomes increasingly capable of withstanding ''threats." That is, the person becomes willing to grant the minority its rights even if the minority is different (stage 3), has negative characteristics (stage 4); is a threat to his own group (stage 5); or even if it is violent to his group (stage 6). We note a number of additional assumptions underlying this model.

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Behavior: the belief in granting minority rights may develop independently of the readiness to behave in accordance with that belief in 1. the protection or enhancement of minority rights. 2. Ethnic attitudes: While a correlation may exist between the favoring of minority rights for a group and positive ethnic attitudes toward that group, MR may develop independently of ethnic attitudes beginning from stage 4 onwards. 3. Cognition: Unlike ethnic attitudes, recognition of minority rights involves a major component of cognition. The concept of minority rights is linked to a cognitive set of values and beliefs concerning just allocation of resources as well as to like or dislike for a particular group. 4. Socialization: From about the ages 810, socialization to recognition of minority rights is crucial in determining whether a child reaches a particular stage. Age (or maturation) becomes a necessary condition for reaching a stage, but in the final analysis a stage cannot be attained without socialization. Two elements are important in such socialization: a) Minority/majority group status: The group one belongs to will be critical in determining the direction of socialization. Being a member of the majority (or the group in power) is likely to impede development of MR understanding; being a member of a minority is likely to enhance such development. b) Social role models: Role models are partially but not exclusively dependent on group status. The child is likely to be strongly influenced by the stand on minority rights of parents and peers. 5. Resources: The degree of recognition of minority rights is influenced by the resource involved. The following resources to which minorities may have access can be distinguished: a) Basic human resources (e.g., access to food, fair trial, protection, voting, representation); b) Economic resources (e.g., payment for work or services; participation in benefits given to majority); c) Political resources (e.g., a voice in the making of social policy); d) Social resources (social acceptance, recognition of status). Many of these considerations may be summed up in the mapping sentence presented in Table 2. The mapping sentence (see Guttman, 1968) indicates the multidimensional nature of MR recognition. It reflects our model's contention that a person's MR development depends on age and specific socialization variables. The mapping sentence also shows the

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Page 144 Table 2 Mapping sentence representing major variables involved in recognition of, and action in favor of minority rights Perceived level of minority rights represents the degree to which a subject(s) of age

A 6 and member of a

8

B majority

10

minority

C group, which is

observer

similar different

D in its

social

characteristics

ethnic religious

adult in comparison to another group with which it comes into contact, believes that

human economic

resources should be granted to the minority (or relatively powerless) group

political social when S has been F exposed to role models

parents

G who are

in favor of

peers others opposed to the granting of such resources in their opinions and when the

(table continued on next page)

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Page 145 Table 2 (cont.) H granting of such rights exists on cognitive

No rights rights to group violent to majority (see Table 1)

I and behavioral

No action

J and emotional

No emotional involvement High emotional involvement

Physical risks for minority rights (see Table 1) dimensions, as indicated by the use of K simulated real-life

L tasks and by use of

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relative independence of cognitive and behavioral development we mentioned earlier. The mapping sentence does not reflect the further assumption (No. 3 above) of the primacy of the cognitive component of recognition of minority rights; nor can it reflect the network of values in which MR is embedded. Our model also does not determine the relative importance of the various resources to which minorities may or may not have access. This importance may reflect cultural values and expectations of both minority and majority. Implications: Israeli Society and Minority Rights Israel, where some of the research reported on here was performed is a heterogeneous country with two major ethnic groups: Jews numbering about 3,373,000, and Arabs, numbering 700,000, or approximately 17% of the population (excluding the occupied territories). The Jewish population is divided into groups of varying Eastern and Western origins, the Arabs constitute a group with a Moslem majority and Christian minorities. Smaller groupsCherkas and Druzeare also present (see Statistical Abstract of Israel, 1983). Yet the major points of confrontation are between the Jewish majority and Arab minority in a context where the neighboring countries are predominantly Arab. Except for Egypt, with whom a peace treaty has been signed, the relations with these countries range from cold neighborliness to outright hostility (Smooha, 1978). These problems bode ill for relations between the Jewish and Arab groups in Israel, and cause problems of selfidentity for each group. The Jewish majority retains ties with the Jewish minority in other often remote countries. The Arab minority is linked in the minds of many Jews to the hostile Arab majority in neighboring countries. Thus members of each group feel as both majority and minority (see Eisenstadt, 1967; Peres and Yuval-Davis, 1969). This situation demands that the Jewish majority behave toward the Arab minority at stages ranging from 4 to 6, a presumably difficult cognitive task for children and even adults. One would expect that many Israeli Jewish adults in such a situation would support majority rule (lower stages, see Table 1), but that fewer would support minority rights for Arabs, which constitute the higher stage in our developmental model. Shamir and Sullivan (1985) report data which are in agreement with this conceptualization. Their results are based on a national stratified sample of Jewish and Arab respondents. There is a strong indication that Jews suport democratic principles in the abstract, and favor majority rule as well as some minority rights. However, they are less likely to grant sev-

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eral basic minority rights (e.g. Arabs teaching in public schools, holding rallies or being allowed to study at University). And, as shown in the Australian and Japanese studies conducted by Mann and his colleagues, each group (majority as well as minority) is generally more likely to grant rights to themselves rather than to the other group. Sullivan, Shamir, Roberts and Walsh (1984) in studies performed in the U.S., Israel and New Zealand have shown how majority views of minorities depend on the particular political and international position of each country and on the intensity of feelings toward the outgroup. Clearly, then, political context and feelings can affect the level of adults' thinking about MR, and presumably could influence children's thinking as well. We now turn to a consideration of how such factors could be related to socialization or education programs whose goals are to enhance (raise the level) of children's thinking and behavior concerning MR. Implications for Research and Education for Minority Rights The model proposed here indicates a number of gaps in the research on MR. There is need for cross-cultural study of the effects of involvement of children as actual majority and minority group members in determination of MR. This means choosing children who represent majorities and minorities in the states in which they live. All studies on MR development to date have been performed on made-up majority and minority groups within school contexts. In these studies majority and minority groups are arbitrary and are composed of children from the same cultural and ethnic background. These studies have been important in pinpointing developmental trends unfettered by the child's previous knowledge concerning particular ethnic groups. Since, however, these developments are now fairly well known (even though more precise replication would be worthwhile), it is necessary to perform studies indicating the application of MR to real-life minorities. Haan (1975) discusses the differences between hypothetical and actual situations involving civil disobedience, but studies of such situations have not been done with children. Research of this kind needs to be carried out on both simulated and real-life tasks (see Facet K in Table 2). Children could be asked to distribute resources to real minorities. For this purpose we could study the effect of the range of resources indicated in Facet E to determine just what rights children are willing to grant to a minority. We suggest that children would be less willing to grant rights to minorities which are different or threatening, unless strong socialization support exists for recognizing minority rights.

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Participation in studies of this kind could be used to influence children's (and adult's) level of minority rights recognition. Thus, children in majority groups in a particular country could role-play being members of a minority dependent on the majority for the granting of rights. In a second stage the same children could be in the majority facing real or simulated minorities. We could then determine the influence of a short-term minority experience on the granting of rights to a minority. As a corollary to such studies one could again train children through role-playing the minority, to attain a higher level of MR. In the second stage, children who underwent the minority group experience could discuss minority rights with children who did not, or with children who were in the majority. Our expectation would be that trained children would attempt to influence untrained children to grant minority rights, and that the untrained children would be affected by such influence. These effects could be studied by observing the untrained child's cognitive and social behavior in any of the tasks mentioned above. The direction of these studies is based on the value assumptions of the authors, and, we assume, of most readers. The assumptions assert the positive value of democratic states, and the necessity for recognition of minority rights within those states. Competing ideologies to these assumptions do exist and assert themselves vocally and violently. The concept of minority rights is not an easy one to grasp cognitively, and ideological forces arranged against it may prevent children and adults in certain societies from gaining the concept on any level, leading to delegitimation of the minority. There is therefore a manifest need for coordinated cross-cultural research and education on these minority rights in all democratic societies. We do not claim that education is the only or even the primary means of power distribution in states with heterogeneous populations, nor do we state what the power distribution should be (see Bell, 1975). However, attention by the majority to education for recognition of minority rights may be one way of solving and preventing intergroup conflicts. References Adorno, T. W., Frenkel-Brunswik, E., Levinson, D. J., and Sanford, R. N. 1950. The Authoritarian Personality. New York: Harper. Amir, Y. 1969. "Contact Hypothesis in Ethnic Relating." Psychological Bulletin, 71, 319342. Bandura, A. 1977. Social Learning Theory. Englewood Cliffs, N. J.: Prentice-Hall.

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Bonacich, E. 1973. "A Theory of Middleman Minorities." American Sociological Review, 38, 583594. Brehm, J., and Cohen, A. P. 1962. Explorations in Cognitive Dissonance. New York: Wiley. Central Bureau of Statistics. 1983. Statistical Abstract of Israel, 34, Jerusalem: Central Bureau of Statistics. Eifermann, R. 1980. "Cooperativeness and Egalitarianism in Kibbutz Children's Games." Human Relations, 23, 579587. Enright, R. D., Franklin, C. C., and Manheim, L. A. 1980. "Children's Distributive Justice Reasoning: A Standardized and Objective Scale. Developmental Psychology, 16, 193202. Fishbein, M., and Ajzen, F. 1975. Belief, Attitude, Intention and Behavior: An Introduction to Theory and Research. Reading, Mass.: Addison-Wesley. Flacks, R. 1967. "The Liberated Generation: An Exploration of the Roots of Social Protest." Journal of Social Issues, 23, 5275. Gewirtz, J. L. 1969. "Mechanisms of Social Learning: Some Roles of Stimulation and Development in Early Social Learning. In D. Goslin (Ed.), Handbook of socialization theory and research. Chicago: Rand McNally, 57212. Greenbaum, C. W., and Kugelmass, S. 1980. "Human Development and Socialization in Cross-cultural Perspective: Issues Arising From Research in Israel." In N. Warren (Ed.), Studies in cross-cultural psychology, Vol. 2, London: Academic Press. , Harpaz, S., and Mann, L. 1983. The Development of the Understanding of Minority Group Rights and Distributive Justice: A Kibbutz-city Israeli Comparison. Paper presented at the European Israeli Seminar on Group Processes and Intergroup Conflict, Kibbutz Shefayim, Israel. Guttman, L. 1968. "A General Non-metric Technique for Finding the Smallest Coordinate Space for a Configuration of Points." Psychometrika, 33, 469506. Haan, N. 1975. "Hypothetical and Actual Moral Reasoning in a Situation of Civil Disobedience." Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 32, 2525270. , Brewster-Smith, M. and Block, J. 1968. "Moral Reasoning of Young Adults: Political-social Behavior, Family Background, and Personality Correlates." Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 10, 183201. Hofmann, J. 1970. "The Meaning of Being a Jew in Israel: An Analysis of

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Ethnic Identity." Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 15, 196202. Keniston, K. 1967. "The Sources of Student Dissent." Journal of Social Issues, 23, 108137. London, P. 1970. "The Rescuers: Motivational Hypotheses About Christians Who Saved Jews From the Nazis." In J. Macaulay and L. Berkowitz (Eds.). Altruism and helping behavior. New York: Academic Press. Madsen, M., and Shapira, A. 1977. "Cooperation and Challenge in Four Cultures." Journal of Social Psychology 102, 189195. Mann, L., Tan, C., Morgan, C., and Dixon, A. 1984. "Developmental Changes in Application of the Majority Rule in Group Decisions." British Journal of Developmental Psychology, 2, 275281. Mann, L., Radford, M., and Kanagawa, C. 1985. "Cross-cultural Differences in Children's Use of Decision Rules: A Comparison BetweenJapan and Australia." Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 49, 15571568. Moessenger, P. 1981. "The Development of the Concept of Majority Decision: A Pilot Study." Canadian Journal of Behavioral Science, 13, 355362. Noel, D. L. 1968. "A Theory of Social Stratification. Social Problems, 16, 157172. Peres, Y. 1976. Ethnic Relations in Israel. Tel-Aviv: Sifriat Poalim. (Hebrew) Peres, Y., and Yuval-Davis, N. 1969. "Some Observations on the National Identity of the Israeli Arab." Human Relations, 22, 219233. Peterson, W. 1975. "On the Subnations of Western Europe." In N. Glazer and D. P. Moynihan (Eds.). Ethnicity: Theory and experience. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. Piaget, J. 1932. The Moral Judgment of the Child. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul (1977 edition: Harmondsworth, England: Penguin Books) Raven, B. H., and Leff, W. 1965. "The Effects of Parents' Behavior and Culture on Behavior in a Two-person Game." In R. Eifermann (Ed.). Studies in Psychology, Scripta Hierosolymitana, vol. 14, Magnes Press, Jerusalem. Siegal, M. 1982. Fairness in Children: A social-cognitive Approach to the Study of Moral Development. London: Academic Press. Shamir, M., and Sullivan, J. L. 1985. "Jews and Arabs in Israel." Journal

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of Conflict Resolution, 29, 283305. Smooha, S. 1978. Israel: Pluralism and Conflict. Berkeley: University of California Press. Sullivan, J. L., Shamir, M., Roberts, N. S., and Walsh, P. 1984. "Political Intolerance and the Structure of Mass Attitudes." Comparative Political Studies, 17, 319344. Tocqueville, A. de [c. 1899] 1959. Democracy in America. New York: Vintage.

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6 The Social Meaning of Alternative Systems: Some Exploratory Notes 1 Nachman Ben-Yehuda Introduction A major function of every social system is to ensure that the basic needs of its members, in a few major and critical areas, are met. Many modern statesincluding Israeltake it upon themselves to meet such needs or control the way in which they are met. It is worth our while to make a distinction at this point between a society and a state, the latter being an additional organization (perhaps bigger and stronger) within a much larger and infinitely more complex social system. While it is not necessarily the ''obligation" of the state to see that these needs are met, it nonetheless controls and regulates mechanisms designed to meet these legitimate needs. The functioning of these mechanisms must be viewed by the actors who utilize them as fair, decent and regular. In this way the basic values and norms of just distribution and distributive justice (Homans, 1974) are maintained and adhered to. There are numerous areas and systems where the citizen and the state interact so that basic needs are met. For the purposes of this chapter, I shall touchand only brieflyon four main areas, emphasizing their civilian (not military) facets: health, education, economy and law enforcement. I shall also mention two other important areas, welfare and leisure, where the contact between citizen and state may be smaller and more marginal. In this way I shall be able to illustrate my approach for both primary and marginal areas. The four main areas mentioned above are basic and critical to the ability of citizens to function. These areas are also basic to the positive subjective perception of citizens that in critically important areas they are being aided, or guided, by the normative system within whose boundaries they live.

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Without delving into the details of and reasons for the historical dynamics, justified and important as they may be, I shall maintain that such dynamics gave rise in Israel to a situation in which alternative systems developed in each of the critically important areas. These alternative systems grew and exist to meet the legitimate needs of citizens. The alternative systems clearly compete with the regular systems offered, controlled and regulated by the state of Israel. Some of these alternative systems are viewed as legitimate and legal, some are on the margin of legitimacy and legality, and some are simply illegal. The existence of what I call alternative systems within any society has important implications for that society, particularly when viewed from the perspective of social control, which capitalizes on the complex relationships between citizen and state, between actors and society. This connection is clearly delineated from the perspective of moral boundaries. As I have indicated elsewhere (Ben-Yehuda, 1985), the concept of moral boundaries is a vital sociological concept in analyzing processes of social change and stability. Social control mechanisms, by their nature, are aimed at detecting deviance and preserving stability. Change or erosion in the activities of control mechanisms may well be taken as a sociological indication of possible changes in moral boundaries, hence, as an indication of changes in the very nature of the collective's self-definition. Thus, the existence and success of various alternative systems in Israel may be interpreted to mean that some profound processes of change are taking place in this societychanges that are focused around, and aimed at, the very essence of this society: the definition of its own moral boundaries. After documenting and illustrating in an exploratory fashion the nature of some alternative systems, I shall interpret the existence of these systems in Israel from the perspective of social control in general, and from Hirschi's more specific control theory in particular. The reader must be reminded that the nature of this inquiry is that of an exploratory investigation only, indicating and analyzing general trends. Some Alternative Systems For obvious reasons, reliable and systematic research about alternative systems in Israel hardly exists, and the data was collected from scarce and sporadic resources. Medicine The majority (probably between 75 and 85 percent) 2 of Israel's citizens receive coverage for their medical needs through Kupat Cholim, the health

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fund of the Histadrut (the Israeli trade union federation). This insurance is based on the concept of members paying a moderate monthly fee, generally determined in accordance with their income and marital status, for full medical coverage (ambulatory and hospitalization). Physicians' salaries are then paid by the insurance fund. These salaries, similar to most other salaries in Israel, are arrived at through collective bargaining, and on-the-job performance has very little impact on the physician's income. While most members of the health fund join it for pragmatic reasons, the fund itself is part of the Histadrut, which openly endorses an egalitarian socialist ideology. Thus, the idea behind the fund is to make medical treatment equally available to members on the basis of a unifying ideology and of their differential needs. Members' wealth or status should not influence the type of medical care they receive. The fund is state-supported as well and, as a few of its chief executives point out, it provides de facto a national health insurance plan. Because the service is used by such a large portion of the Israeli population, one can safely assume that the values and symbolic messages it helps deliver, at least concerning medical treatment, are shared by those receiving it. That this service is state-supported only adds weight and depth to the perception that this is a state service. The Israeli medical association has traditionally maintained that physicians' salaries are too low and that private practice should be allowed and institutionalized (many physicians consider the U.S. the relevant point of reference). The reality followed this declaration. The expenditure on "private" medicine rose from 27.9 million Israeli lira in 1954 to 54.5 million in 1959 (Ha'aretz, August 4, 1961). "The assumption is that every year the public spends $250 million for private medical care and that 20% of this amount, close to $50 million, consists of bribes to senior physicians who are employed in publicly funded hospitals" (Yediot Aharonot, Dec. 23, 1986, p. 3). Newspaper coverage of this problematic issue emphasizes that there is almost a "conspiracy of silence" on the subject. The services that citizens should be getting for free, as part of their membership in Kupat Cholim, are being paid for privately, and it is in no one's interest to file complaints. Thus, in the early 1970s the "Hadassah" medical complex institutionalized the "sharap," a private medical service, although Hadassah hospital itself is supported by public money. This obviously creates an uneasy moral dilemma (e.g., see Donevitz's column in Ha'aretz, 23 Sept. 1974, or J. Shemi's article in Ha'aretz of Sept. 27, 1974). This whole debate was brought to the fore by the protracted physicians' strike during the summer of 1983. Furthermore, since the legality and legitimacy of this "private" medicine is questionable, to say the least, many transactions are not reportedare ''tax-free," so to speak. Thus, this type of practice has come to be

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termed "black medicine." In fact, in November 1986, the Ministry of Health announced that it was declaring open war on this "black medicine." The significant increase in "black medicine"including a private facility in Herzlia (a town in the Tel-Aviv metropolitan area) which employs some physicians who are employed as well by the Histadrut health fund, and private care within public hospital'serodes the idea and reality of a state-supported, national medical insurance plan. Thus, people in need of various medical treatments who tire of the long waiting lines in public hospitals (for example, sometimes a two-year waiting list for a rather simple prostate operation) and who have the economic resources, may use the "black medicine" system to cut the waiting time down to a few days or weeks. Taking advantage of "black medicine" necessitates a good economic background, without which accessibility to and use of this medicine is impossible. Thus, together with the open public norm which emphasizes equal medical service, taking into consideration the nature of the problem itself, there is an alternative ''black medicine" serviceefficient and of high quality, probably better than the public system. The existence of this system is in sharp contradiction to the public normsymbolically and practically. Furthermore, use of this system depends on one variable only: the income of the person in need. One particulary unsavory alternative system developed in the area of drug abuse treatment. The state of Israel sponsors four or five "official" treatment programs for drug addicts, mostly for heroin users. These programs incorporate the idea of giving addicts a substitute drug, methadone. As a rule, all these programs together treat at most 250300 patients at any given time. In 1982, a private pharmacist opened a private program located in the largest garbage dump site in Israel, where heroin addicts could get generous amounts of methadone (as well as other psychoactive drugs)for a prescription. Aside from its being a sort of "chemical paradise" for these addicts, no real treatment (or any effort toward rehabilitation) was offered there. This "program" changed names and ownership, and was moved to within the area of the central bus station of Tel-Aviv. Currently about 4000 addicts are enrolled there, for a fee. Most of them receive only methadone as a "treatment" and no other counselling or rehabilitative services (for more on this, see Ben-Yehuda and Einstein, 1984). One could perhaps justify the existence of private medical centers for those Israelis who can afford it. That the main job of many "private" physicians is in the public domain, and that so-called "private beds" are found in public hospitals, are facts less amenable to justification, however, especially as there is no ecological separation between the two systems.

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Education For many years Israel's ideology and ethos regarding education emphasized that education should be free, from the elementary grades through high school. Unfortunately, as resources dwindled, the quality and scope of this education began to deteriorate. Thus, at present elementary school-children are provided approximately four hours of studies per day. This is certainly insufficient for general and Jewish education, to say nothing of acquiring special skills such as proficiency in another language, computers, mathematics, logic, and so forth. Activities outside of school began, aimed at giving children necessary education. Some of these activities, called "hugim" (circles), are not very expensive. However, by various estimations (e.g., see Ma'ariv April 29, 1984, p. 13) between 60% and 90% of all pupils in grades six to twelve need very expensive private tutoring. Many of the instructors who give these private lessons are regular teachers who in this way supplement their income. As the April 29, 1984 Ma'ariv cover story indicated, this situation is very convenient for a particular type of teacher; it is, quite simply, a good business. What fuels this phenomenon is the crowding in schools and the deteriorating quality of the Israeli teacher on the one hand, and, on the other, the legitimate desire of many parents to give their children a decent education (e.g., see Ma'ariv April 30, 1984: 13; Harpaz 1987; Gal-On 1987). Thus, alongside the formal education system, there developed a whole spectrum of alternative systems: from the totally legitimate (e.g., "hugim" or complete alternatives, such as private schools) to a myriad of very expensive private tutoring schemes, called Hinuch Affor (Grey education). As the ability of the regular educational system to meet the growing needs of increasing numbers of students diminished, in the sense of developing skills and abilities within small groups, the importance of alternative systems increased. As in the previous case, the economic burden that private tutoring causes can be quite heavy, to the point that the income of many families simply cannot provide adqequately in this way for one or more of their children. This may seriously hinder the development and intellectual maturation of many children. Economy The existence of a "black" economy is not unique to Israel. This economy basically means labor provided and businesses operated, without taxation, registration, and formal legal existence. It is difficult to estimate the magnitude and scope of this economy. Some experts put the scope of this

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economy in Western Europe at about 10% of the GNP (Ha'a-retz, June 27, 1986, p. 38), and between 4 and 27 percent of the GNP in the U.S.A. (Zilberfarb, 1984). The estimates for Israel range between 5% and 15% (Zilberfarb, 1984). In 1987, parliament member Eliahu Shpiezer estimated the value of this "black economy" at 50 billion dollars (Yediot Aharonot, December 1, 1987.7) The figures indicate that many of Israel's citizens are engaged in economic production within this alternative system. This literally means un-receipted work, smuggling currency, not reporting true income, evading taxationin short, education to and socialization into a life style which is non-conformist, and not committed to Israel, in a most major and basic way. Law Enforcement The process of creating and crystallizing alternative systems to law enforcement is at an advanced stage in Israel. To begin with, private police forces have mushroomed in Israel. These services provide escorts, bodyguards, investigative services, guards, etc. As the failure of the police becomes more and more clear in such areas as robbery, burglary, car theft, etc., so the importance and significance of these private forces increases, as do both reliance on them (e.g., see Ma'ariv, June 9, 1971, p. 22; Ha'Aretz Magazine, January 30, 1987, pp. 1213) and the number of private investigators (e.g., see Ha'aretz, October 21, 1980). It was estimated that in 1980 private police services employed about 20,000 people in Israel (the total Israeli police force for that year was 19,604). Ha'aretz Magazine, January 30, 1987:1213 estimated that the private police force was three times the size of the official Israeli police force. While these commercial enterprises are, theoretically, controlled by the Ministry of Law, in reality this control is rather ephemeral. Thus, organized crime in Israel has gotten into the private police business (Ha'aretz, May 14, 1971) and police officers have been suspected of selling information to private police (e.g., Ma'ariv, Aug. 5, 1984, p. 13). Also, private collecting services have developed, which collect debts by force, going so far as to openly threaten to use violence and lethal arms (e.g., see Yediot Aharonot, Aug. 28, 1972, p. 26). Because the courts in Israel respond very slowly to the needs of citizens, the use of "enforcers," "compromise experts," intermediaries, and various and sundry other such agents (e.g., see Yediot Aharonot, "7 Days", Aug. 8, 1986, pp. 2225) is on the increase. Dr. Rotenshtreich (a prominent lawyer) stated (ibid.) that, in Israel, "clever people do not go to court." For the modest investment of a small amount of money, a citizen may collect a debt or solve a legal problem in a matter of days rather than

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years. However, all this only serves to indicate the development of alternative systems outside the regular system of law enforcement and the courts. The relations between the systems are problematic and obviously not established. Leisure Alternative systems in this area almost appear self-contradictory. Here, however, the solutions are very concrete. Let us take just one example. Israel has only one state-controlled television channel in Hebrew, which transmits only 4 hours every evening and not at all during Saturday (which is the weekly day of rest for most Israeli workers). As a result, an alternative, illegal cable television system (called "pirate TV stations" in Israel) has developed. This system and others develop and flourish on the margins of legality, and hence are virtually uncontrolled. The movies, programs and commercials transmitted by these "pirate" stations are uncensored, and the existence of these stations as socialization agents becomes very problematic. Population in DistressGeriatrics Welfare and assistance to populations in distress seem to be hallmarks of modern, post-industrial states. Some of these populations, regardless of age group, need general assistance. With medical care improving and birth rates declining, we are witnessing, in the U.S.A., Israel, and in other countries, the aging of the population. The needs of a particular segment of the geriatric population which requires continuous aid and attention are, by all accounts, real and pressing. The situation in Israel regarding care for this particular population is bleak indeed (e.g., Ma'ariv, May 23, 1975; Ma'ariv, May 5, 1969; Du-Shvuon Ha'Universita Ha'Ivrit, June 22, 1973; Kol Ha'ir, June 26, 1986; Davar, Sept. 23, 1986). The available solutions are far from satisfactory, and the fact that the needs of a part of the elderly population are not met is evident from television and other media reports. Furthermore, the lack of adequate care and proper institutions creates a situation in which, in many cases, old people in need of continuous professional care are cared for instead by their families. In rare instances, it is possible to place such old people in very expensive private homes. In both cases, the economic burden of an alternative system of support strains the resources of the average Israeli family. This situation exists despite the fact that many of these elderly in need of care paid medical insurance throughout their working lives. Young people witnessing this situation most certainly receive a depressing

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message about what they may expect if they should need such care in old age. The discussion thus far illustrates, in a preliminary way, the existence of alternative systems in a few areas which are critical and important to the Israeli citizen. Two conclusions may be drawn from the above. First, these are exploratory illustrations, pointing to possible trends. Each of the alternative systems in itself may need more indepth, independent studies. Second, one must remember that there are a few areas for which states have traditionally assumed responsibility, for example law enforcement and education; others where they have not, such as leisure; and areas such as medicine where state responsiblity has been negotiable. Therefore, the meaning and impact of the existence of alternative systems in the different areas may vary considerably. Concluding Discussion The previous section provided numerous exploratory illustrations of alternative systems in some very critical social areas in the state of Israel. The unavoidable primary conclusion is that in these highly critical areas of life, the Israeli citizen encounters alternative systems. This is so despite Israel's being an open, democratic society whose ideology has traditionally emphasized that it is the duty of the state to provide for its citizens' needs in the above mentioned areas, and the very high burden of taxes in the country presumably enables the fulfillment of this ideology. It is difficult not to conclude that, despite its ideological rhetoric, the state of Israel is a majestic and on-going failure in attaining some of its own defined goalsmeeting certain very basic needs of its citizens. What gives this conclusion an even grimmer tone, perhaps, is that the one very clear and obvious variable at the root of these alternative systems is an economic one: that is, the better the economic situation of a citizen or a family, the higher the ability to benefit from these alternative systems and thereby to create an important sphere of independence. What are the sociological implications of such a situation? These implications focus on at least three points: the individual as such; the state as such; and the interaction and contact points between the individual and the state. A myriad of perspectives exists from which one can examine these three pointsfrom the social contract theory, to a psychological prism, to economic-political perspectives. In this essay I wish to examine the problematics of the existence of alternative systems in Israel from a different point of view, that of social control. Durkheim's classic work on suicide specifically mentions that when the

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hold of society (or groups within it) on the individual weakens, personal disorganization and deviance occur. On p. 209 of Suicide (1951), Durkheim states: Society cannot disintegrate without the individual simultaneously detaching himself from social life, without his own goals becoming preponderant over those of the community, in a work without his personality tending to surmount the collective personality. The more weakened the groups to which he belongs, the less he depends on them, the more he consequently depends only on himself and recognizes no other rules of conduct than what are found in his private interests. If we agree to call this state egoism ... we may call egoistic the special type of suicide springing from excessive individualism. Thus, Durkheim implies a causal connection between social disorganization and personal deviance. States of anomie are another example of this causal relationship. On p. 252, Durkheim (1951) pointed out that "when society is disturbed by some painful crisis or by beneficient but abrupt transitions, it is momentarily incapable of exercising ... influence (on the individual); thence comes the sudden rise in the curve of suicides." In past years, a number of social control theories were suggested which shared the assumption that social and personal disorganization, as well as deviance, did not simply occur but became possible due to an inability to prevent it. Control theories not only spell out when and where deviance becomes possible, but also specify the conditions under which no disorganization and deviance will take place. Most control theories use the concepts of internal versus external control, and give specific content to each. However, the relative importance of each control sphere varies and remains problematic. Reiss (1951) identified three sources of control: personal, primary group, and community and institutional. Nye (1958) identified two ways in which deviance occurs: as produced by specific motivations, and as an outcome of the absence of ineffectiveness of social control. Nye portrays such mechanisms of social control as internalized control and direct control. A similar theory based on internal and external control mechanisms is Reckless' (1967) "containment theory." The issue of social control was summarized in 1951 by Talcott Parsons' formulation that the sociology of social control focuses on the analysis of the processes which tend to counteract deviance processes (assuming, of course, that "deviance" is non-problematic. See Gibbs, 1985). In recent years sociolgists of deviance and criminologists have begun to focus attention not only on micro-level analysis in control theory but on the macro level as well, and in the broadest sense of the term: control and the state, con-

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trol and politics, and the like (e.g., see Cohen and Scull, 1983; Cohen, 1985; Davis and Anderson, 1983; Black, 1984). In this way, whole social systems may be thought of as control organs. It is not yet entirely clear whether these two different approaches to social controlthe micro and the later macroare similar and, if so, in what way. The perspective adopted here is that of viewing the complex relationship between Israel and its citizens through the prism of a system of control. Hirschi's control theory is particularly useful in this respect. Hirschi's control theory (1969) identified four mechanisms which integrate the individual into society and thus help set moral boundaries (e.g., see Ben-Yehuda, 1985). These mechanisms are attachment, commitment, involvement and belief. The first mechanism refers to the ways in which individuals attach to one another, together conform to moral norms, and express in their behavior societal moral boundaries. Attachments among actors hence create the network of which the social structure is built. The second mechanism, commitment, refers to the degree to which individuals invest their personal resources in conventional activities, effectively preventing social disorganization because of the actors' vested interest in existing social structures and therefore in continuity. Involvement refers to the actors' real immersion and absorption within society in such a fashion as to support conventional morality and the existing social structure. The last mechanism is belief. This refers directly to the idea that a high level of belief in the moral codes and norms of the cultural matrix in which actors live reduces the probability of distancing oneself from society due to anomie and alienationin short, of personal disorganization and deviance. This is a very important mechanism because it is focused on the actor's moral-cognitive maps, on the shared belief in the validity and truth of the most important and powerful societal symbols and norms defining the moral boundaries of every social system. Obviously, the four mechanisms do not normally function independently. The essence of this social control system is that, on the one hand, actors become positive and integral parts of the existing social matrix within which they function, and thus support and enable its continued existence; on the other hand, a social structure where such a control system operates enables the personal and social expression of its actors. Hirschi's control theory not only charts the mechanisms through which an individual can be integrated into society and express his or her human potential, but also maps the normatively regulated network of social interaction which forms the social structure. The continued existence of alternative systems erodes the vital and meaningful links between actors and the cultural matrix within which they live.

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As this erosion continues and deepens, it creates widespread feelings of anomie and alienation, as well as distance between actors and state. One must be reminded that alternative systems do exist as well in totalitarian and oppressive societies. However, the practical and symbolic meaning of the existence of such systems in free democratic states is entirely different because the erosive factor is emphasized more. On a deeper level, the existence of alternative systems on a large scale would necessarily influence the individual citizen toward developing more individualism and egoism. After all, the existence of these alternative systems teaches the citizen that he or she can not expect much from the state, despite official rhetoric. The influence on the state is more problematic. The existence of alternative systems may well play into some major political disputes in Israel. For example, when in 1983 all physicians on the public payroll went on a long and bitter strike, it was not at all clear that every political party in the coalition opposed the strike. For a political party which supports the idea of private medicine or wants the health fund to be removed from Histadrut control, the strike may not have been a negative event. Hence, examining the meaning of the existence of alternative systems for the state entails comparing each of the systems with the ideology and functioning of the relevant institutions and political parties in Israel. This task is certainly beyond the scope of the present chapter. The individual and the state thus provide the two poles between which the interaction of the micro-macro levels takes place. The existence, proliferation and ideological acceptance of alternative systems would necessarily increase the distance between these two poles. It would indeed cause changes in the moral boundaries by which Israeli society defines itself, as well as redefine the myriad symbolic-moral universes (e.g., Berger and Luckman, 1966) which presently exist within the moral boundaries of the state of Israel. The nature and scope of the mutual expectations between the state and its citizens would necessarily have to undergo changes. Both poles would have to re-adjust themselves to a newer situation, characterized by more egoism and individualism, and by less vacuous rhetoric on the part of the State. As the state of Israel has traditionally maintained and emphasizedsymbolically and practicallythe ideas and values of "togetherness" and of a "collective doing," the emergence and reinforcement of newer forms of egoism and individualism may have far-reaching consequences in other areas of Israeli society as well, especially on its national effort regarding education, health, welfare and, finally, even its security. 3 The erosion of the sense of "togetherness" in Israel is bound, eventually, to have its impact on the motivation of its citizens to assume active roles in the military.

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Notes 1. I am grateful to Baruch Kimmerling who, following one interesting afternoon chat, encouraged me to write this chapter, insisted and waiteddespite some objective obstacles and difficulties. Thanks are due to Chava Dayan who helped collect some of the illustrative data. I am very grateful to Yael Wyant for her endless patience and careful help in providing indispensable editorial assistance. The Center for Study and Documentation of Israeli Society provided all the necessary help and sources which were needed for this exploratory work. 2. Accurate data are hard to find and validate. While Kupat Cholim is certainly the dominant medical insurance plan, there are a few smaller plans (e.g., Maccabi), and even private plans (e.g., Shiloach), which combined account for 1525 percent of the market. 3. On a more restricted level, the possible emergence of new forms of egoism and individualism may influence patterns of drug abuse and recruitment to various esoteric cults in Israel (e.g., see Ben-Yehuda, 1987). References Ben-Yehuda, Nachman. 1985. Deviance and Moral Boundaries. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. . 1987. "Drug Abuse Social Policy in the United States and Israel: A Comparative Sociological Perspective." The International Journal of the Addictions, 22 (1): 1745. Ben-Yehuda, Nachman and Stanley Einstein. 1984. "Human Garbage and Physical Garbage: A Sociological Case Example of Institutional Violence." The International Journal of the Addictions, 19 (1): 123. Berger, Peter and Thomas Luckmann. 1966. The Social Construction of Reality. England: Penguin Books. Black, Donald, ed. 1984. Toward a General Theory of Social Control. New York: Academic Press. Cohen, Stanley. 1985. Visions of Social Control. Cambridge: Polity Press. Cohen, Stanley and Andrew Scull (eds.) (1983): Social Control and the State. Oxford: Martin Robertson. Davis, Nanette J., and Bo Anderson. 1983. Social Control: The Production of Deviance and the Modern State. New York: Irvington Publishers, Inc. Durkheim, Emile. 1951. Suicide. New York: The Free Press. Gal-On, Anat. 1987. "Days of School," Horim Vegladim (Parents and children), 1:4245. (Hebrew)

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Gibbs, Jack. 1985. "Social Control," pp. 765768 in Kuper, Adam and Jessica Kuper (eds.). The Social Science Encyclopedia. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Harpaz, Yoran. 1987. "Parents are requested to pay soon." Kol Hair (Nov. 6) 478:2529. (Hebrew) Hirschi, Travis. 1969. Causes of Delinquency. Los Angeles: University of California Press. Homans, George C. 1974. Social Behavior, Its Elementary Forms (rev. ed.). New York: Harcourt, Brace Jovanovich. Nye, Ivan F. 1958. Family Relationships and Delinquent Behavior. New York: John Wiley. Reckless, Walter C. 1967. The Crime Problem (4th ed.). Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice Hall. Reiss, Albert J., Jr. 1951. "Delinquency as the Failure of Personal and Social controls." American Sociological Review, 16: 196207. Zilberfarb, Ben-Zion. 1984. "Estimates of the Black Economy in Israel and Abroad." Rivon LeKalkala, 122 (October): 319322. (Hebrew)

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7 The State of Israel as a Theological Dilemma Menachem Friedman IntroductionRedemption and the Political-Realities Shortly after the Six-Day War (1967), Rabbi Eliezer M. Schach, Head of the Ponevez Yeshiva in Bnei Brak, addressed a group of educators from the Hinuch Atzmai school system, which is under the auspices of Agudat Israel. His speech included the following remarks: ... And we must have faith that neither the coming of the Messiah nor even the advent of Redemption will originate via channels which neither approach nor relate to the Torah of Israel; Redemption cannot be linked with Sabbath violation and the uprooting of [religious] precepts. The Torah declares '... that the land vomit not you out ...'(Lev.20.22) And Redemptionor even the advent of Redemptioncannot originate in deeds for which the earth does vomit one out ... We must believe that the true Redemption will be redemption of the body as well as redemption of the soulredemption of the spirit. Redemption of the body must not override redemption of the spirit ... (Schach, 1980:15). Rabbi Schach's words reflect the atmosphere of spiritual uplift which pervaded most of the religious community following the military victory, the liberation of Jerusalem and the conquest of the entire Land of Israel. The renewed encounter of the Jewish People with its holy places, especially the Western Wall, Rachel's Tomb and the Tomb of the Patriarchs, and the securing of sovereignty over those placeswhich are linked with the formative roots of the Jewish People and the Jewish religionencouraged and reinforced faith that hopes for Redemption were indeed being fulfilled. Religious and traditionally-minded Jews found it difficult to explain these historical realities in terms other than those of Messianic Redemption.

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This position will be considered in greater detail below. In contrast, note that Rabbi Schach's remarks also constitute an attempt to cope with this historical-religious position via categorical negation thereof. He expresses nothing other than the fundamentalist anti-Zionist position which had been voiced throughout the confrontation between Zionism and traditional religious Judaism. The problem of coping with this paradoxical entityi.e. the inception of true (or false) Redemption via ''eaters of carrion and unclean beasts" (Schach, 1980:25)has shaped and nurtured various religious opinions concerning Zionism in general and the State of Israel in particular. The ostensibly substantive contradiction between conception of legitimate Jewish existence among the pious and the social reality characterized by a secular entity with a modern, permissive society thus demands a categorical, unambiguous denial of any positive religious value for the State of Israel in the process of traditional Messianic Redemption. This approach, prima facie, is a kind of simple and straightforward solution not only to the religious problematics involved in the establishment of a secular, modern Jewish state but also to the difficulties encountered by religious-traditional society in comprehending contemporary Jewish history in toto, its tragic depths and its dramatic pinnacles. This religioushistorical position unequivocally expresses a comprehensive historiographic conception which perceived of the central historical processes of the modern erafrom the inception of modernization and secularization (i.e. the Haskala or Enlightenment), through the development of the Zionist Movement up to the establishment of the State of Israelas a totality of a cause and effect expressing the great "rebellion" against the unique essence of religious Judaism, i.e. adherence to the Torah and its precepts as developed and consolidated in the various forms of traditional Judaism. This conception indeed aids in consolidating "harmonious" religious historiography while facilitating the believer's confrontation with the social reality in which he is immersed. Nevertheless, it necessarily stands in contradiction to the existential reality of the Jew who simultaneously faces the tragedy of the Holocaust and the euphoria of the rebirth of the Jewish Statetwo peaks in Jewish history which transcend all historical-religious boundaries and are difficult to place along the ordinary world historical continuum. This "historical breakthrough"i.e. the MessianicRedemptionist explanation of the establishment of the State of Israel and its brief historyis thus virtually self-evident, yet also somewhat problematic in its contradiction of simple faith: Can there be Redemption without return [to tradition]? Or, as Rabbi Schach expressed it: can there be "redemption of the body" alonethe antithesis of "redemption of the spirit?" Rabbi Schach resolved the contradiction by declaring that the establish-

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ment of the State of Israel marked neither Redemption itself nor even the "advent of Redemption." In contrast, the Gush Emunim Movement and students of Rabbi Zvi Yehuda Kook claimed that "the Jewish People are [now] undergoing a process of redemption" (Kula, 1985:469480). These two ostensibly antithetical positions stem from the dialectical entity embodied by Israel of the post-Six-Day War era, the 1970s and the 1980s. The more paradoxical the situation appears, the less acceptable these solutions will be in both ultra-Orthodox and religious Zionist circles. Below, we attempt to clarify the views prevailing in the various religious communities concerning the State of Israel, as initially formulated and as they developed against the background of this dialectical historical reality. The Developing Dilemma The rift between the two schools of thought developed from the outset. Since the latter half of the eighteenth century, the essential unity of Jewish societythen based on tradition and adherence to the Torah and Halachawas shattered, as Jews increasingly abandoned the traditional way of life, first in Western and Central Europe and later in Eastern Europe as well. This phenomenon clearly constituted part of a far more comprehensive process of change engendered by the overall modernization of European society and the uprooting and migration of populations from rural hamlets to cities, from the village to the metropolis and from East to West, accompanied by attempts at integrating into the social and economic structure of the surrounding non-Jewish society. The process of abandonmentor, as we prefer to call it, erosionof the traditional religious way of life engendered the generation gap in Eastern Europe, wherein young people rebelled against parental authority and abandoned their families' lifestyles and traditions. Thus fathers and sons faced one another, the "old" generation versus the "new." Moreover, besides reflecting the relative extent of the erosion process, this rift expressed a belief which was somehow common to the "new generation" and most of the ''old," namely the feeling that Jewish tradition lacks the strength to respond to the economic and ideological challenges of the modern era. This sense of failure facilitates comprehension of the speed with which the traditionalreligious leadership relinquished its place to a new elite, even when most Eastern European Jews still adhered to a traditional lifestyle. Furthermore, it explains the lack of definitive reaction by traditional-religious society, as demanded by both Halacha and historical experience, i.e. excommunication of deviants and their banishment from the House of Israel. In Germany and Hungary, there were formal attempts at expressing the illegitimacy of deviation from

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tradition and Halacha by establishing separate religious communities (Austritt Gemeinde), but in Eastern Europe this approach was categorically rejected. Under the new political and social realities, rabbis and laymen alike joined the Hovevei Zion movement and later the Zionist Movement. Rabbis who opposed Hovevei Zion attacked their colleagues, claiming that participation in a movement led by "Enlightened" Jews accords de facto legitimacy to diversion from religion and tradition. In Eastern Europe, however, where Jewish society increasingly depended on "new generation" personalities to represent it before the authorities and Western Jewish leaderswho were likewise primarily "Enlightened"this contention had little validity. Furthermore, as migration to the Westespecially to the United Statesincreased and the economic crisis intensified, Eastern European Jewry became more dependent on Western Financial assistance. Even yeshivas and other religious institutions increasingly relied on the contributions of non-traditional Jews, among others. The greater the Jewish survival crisis in Eastern Europe, the more religious-traditional society retreated from politics, leaving this sphere to the ''Enlightened" Jewish elite and to the change and revolution-oriented movements [i.e. Socialist and Zionism] which developed since the end of the nineteenth century. The situation did not change substantially even after the founding of the Agudat Israel movement (1912), established as a federative system for traditional Eastern European religious elements and Western Orthodox circles who objected to these movements. Traditional religious Judaism and its leadership remained at the fringes of political activity. This was essentially a tragic situation, as the Jewish masses of Eastern Europemost of whom remained loyal to religion and tradition until World War IIwere now becoming the principal "clients" of Jewish "politics" and the traditional religious leadership no longer provided an adequate response to their problems. Therefore, willingly or not, openly or otherwise, they turned outward, towards the "other" Judaism which presented an alternative to the religious-traditional lifestyle, even if they did not actually alter their own social habits and way of life. This tragic and painful contradiction between membership in a social system which categorically rejects and delegitimizes all other alternatives and the economic and political realities which engender need, reliance and dependence on these illegitimate systems, characterizes the dialectical relations of the traditional religious Jewish world with modern systems in general and Zionism and its enterprises in the Land of Israel in particular. Such relations range from outright rejection, hatred and ridicule, to admiration, wonder, envy and feelings of inferiority. Moreover, these contradictory emotions often coalesced and reinforced one another.

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Zionism: A Stage Within the Redemption Process? The attitude of the Orthodox religious world to Zionism and its enterprises in Palestine, even among sectors linked with the Zionist Movement, is by nature complex and replete with internal contradictions. First, these relations are conditioned by the consistent dominance of the secular element in Zionism (including the Hovevei Zion Movement), as discussed extensively above. Second, Zionism sought to realize its political and social objectives in the holy land (Palestine). Since the early 1880s, the modern and secular Jewish society which developed in Palestine was identified and directly affiliated with the ideology and framework of the Zionist Movement. The Zionist Movement, as a Jewish national movement, has always maintained an unmediated attachment for the diverse strata of Jewish culture as they developed throughout the rich and variegated history of the Jewish People. This affinity fostered the formulation of an old-new Jewish culture which remained essentially secular despite its traditional roots. As a result the new Jewish society in Palestine was the only modern Jewish society which succeeded in developing an entire secular Jewish culture capable of expressing total Jewish identity without commitment to Halacha as an obligatory norm. From this point of view, the Zionist Jewish society in Palestine represented a comprehensive and complete "revolt" against Judaism based on perception of the Jewish People and the Torah as an indivisible totality. Moreover, secular Zionism in Palestine not only represented an alternative Jewish culture but also derived and intentionally secularized its language, content and basic concepts from the heritage and traditions of religious Judaism. In 1920, Rabbi Menahem M. Kasheron whose writings indicating the dramatic influence of the Six-Day War on his attitude to the State of Israel we will rely extensively belowpublished a booklet in Warsaw entitled Daat Harabanim (The Rabbis' Opinion), directed against Zionism in general and the Mizrachi (Religious Zionist) Movement in particular. Kasher wrote that indeed "according to Torah law, one should not aid the Zionists who openly violate religious principles ... in working towards the settlement of the Land of Israel," as in doing so one is abetting the secularization of the Holy Land, "the palace of the King, of the Holy One, Blessed be He." But the sin of Zionism is even greater, as it has led "thousands upon thousands of Jews astray." ... Until the Zionists ... spread their net over Poland, there were uncountable places in which Jewish violation of Torah precepts were unknown and unheard even in private and a fortiori in public. For its was well-understood among all

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Jews that he who violates the Sabbath in public and the like is considered an apostate and a non-Jew and is severed from the community of Israel ... Now that this [golden] calf of 'neo-nationalism' has arisen, the cloak of shame has been removed from all sinners. They have used a variety of means to incite and divert young Jews ... to violate the entire Torah, Heaven forfend, and to fulfill all their heart's desires and wishes in public, yet remain enthusiastic Jews, so long as they call themselves nationalists, speak the Holy Tongue (Hebrew) fluently and work for the settlement of the Land of Israel ... 1 The above remarks were made by a person external to the Zionist framework and intended as an attack on the Mizrachi Movement. However, similar sentiments were voiced by religious Zionist leaders as well. We cite certain comments by Rabbi Abraham Isaac Hacohen Kook, who had developed an entire religious philosophy placing secular Zionism within the framework of the Redemption process: The emotional experience of Judaism and the Torah firmly instructs us to exclude from the overall national fraternity all heretics who reject the yoke of Torah and faith. (Kook, 1904; Luz, 1982:203215). Therefore, from the outset, religious Zionism, like the faithful component of its predecessor, Hovevei Zion, found it difficult to justify cooperation with secular Zionism in building a Jewish Land of Israel except within the context of the religious-Utopian conception which defines secular Zionism as partial "return" to Jewish traditional faith, destined to become complete "return" as the Land of Israel is resettled by Jews. As indicated above, such ideas had already been voiced by rabbis who joined Hovevei Zion. And if one will ask: shall those who left the Torah and deny faith, inherit the Land? Is this the hope of Israelto return to its people and cast out its Torah? To this I respond: Let us wait a bit until we merit ascending unto Zion and our eyes behold the rebuilding of our Holy Mountain and the Kingdom of Israel, for then the Lord will pour out His spirit from on high and guide our hearts to worship Him faithfully ... (Sefer Samuel 1923; Elishberg 1897; Luz, 1982:203215). Such concepts were formulated most comprehensively in the overall philosophical-religious theory propounded by Rabbi A.I. Hacohen Kook, as described above. Rabbi Kook's philosophy was elucidated in many ways, the details thereof transcend the scope of this study. Below we note only a few of the basic guidelines relevant to the topic under consideration. The paradox so sharply delineated by Rabbi Schachi.e. the question

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of whether Redemption may be brought about through religiously and Halachically invalid means (desecration of the Sabbath, uprooting of precepts)constituted the focus of Rabbi Kook's philosophy. Moreover, in a certain sense, the intensity of the dichotomy became the point of departure for a paradoxical theology which maintains that the contradiction is superficial only and views freethinking nationalism (Zionism) as an essential part of the process of Redemption ab initio. 2: Traditional religious society in the Diaspora stressed "spiritual life." Now that the balance between the "spiritual" and "material" aspects of national life ("exaggerated spiritualism,'' Kook, 1973), was challenged, it was essential that the first stages of settlement of the Land of Israel, which constitute the initial stage of Redemption, be accomplished "by workers skilled in performing these deeds, like the Sidonians who were more skilled in hewing the trees of Lebanon to build the Lord's House than were the Children of Israel, whose eyes, hearts and souls are directed towards the Great and Sacred House ... (Kook, 1973; Kook, 1941:199from a letter dated 1918). The 'exaggerated spiritualism' which characterizes the traditional religious society must have caused 'separation' alongside 'materialism.' Hence one cannot consider the secular Zionists who build up the Land of Israelthose devourers of carrion and the unclean, those Sabbath violators and uprooters of the commandments in the 'King's parlor'as 'wicked' in the Halachic sense of the concept,3 but rather as 'audacious ones' who are fulfilling a Divine mission in the process of Redemption. "The Divine Spirit prevails in their aspirations even against their own will ...'" Rabbi Kook's conceptions clearly contravene the standard position of traditional religious Judaism. It is important to emphasize that Rabbi Kook demolished the logical and harmonious structure of Orthodox religious thinking by blurring its basic distinctions between good and evil, between the righteous and the wicked, between the sacred and the profane. Few elements in the traditional religious camp could face with this challenge to the internal order of their religious-spiritual world. However, his philosophy also solved various problems which shook the orderly and harmonious world of the pious: How could it come to pass that the "wicked" are building the Land of Israel and making its deserts bloom, while the traditional-religious world largely stands on the sidelines? How could one explain the world's support for Zionism, as expressed in the Balfour Declaration and in approval of the British Mandate over Palestine by the League of Nations? The traditional religious world view was thus necessarily shattered. No longer could traditional elements return to the naive explanations of historical realities via religious-traditional distinctions between good and evil. If one categorically negates the physical "building up" of the Land of Israel by Sabbath violators and considers its profanation of the Land's sanctity,

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how can one explainfrom a religious point of viewthe accomplishments of Zionism in the practical and diplomatic spheres? How can one integrate an event so decisive in Jewish history as the Balfour Declaration within the framework of religious-traditional consciousness? No decision in any direction could possible restore the harmony which prevailed in religious-traditional historical thinking before the rift took place. The Balfour Declaration was only a first step in the rallying of Jewish history to Zionism's side. The upheaval of Eastern European Jewry between the two World Wars transformed Zionist Palestine into a country of refuge. The rise of Nazism to power in Germany compelled even the antizionist religious movement, Agudath Israel, to seek a haven for themselves within the new Zionist community in Palestine. Dramatic events such as the Holocaust, which wrought havoc among the vast majority of traditional religious Jews and Council of Torah Sages who led them, including Hassidic courts and the great yeshivas on the one hand, and the establishment of the State of Israel after 2,000 years of exile on the other, all posed an existential dilemma for traditional religious theology. However this dilemma may be decided, even those who adhered to the basic guidelines declaring that the establishment of the State of Israel represents neither Redemption nor the "advent of Redemption" and "that no good may come from the wicked," could not remain naive any longer. Nevertheless, the more that history corroborated Rabbi Kook's conception, the greater the consequent internal tension. The basic assumption of Rabbi Kook's philosophy is that the contradiction between the Land of Israel's secularity and its decisive role in the Redemption process can be only superficial and therefore dependent on circumstances (Kook 1973:63; Simon 1952:97129especially pp. 115123). The State of Israel, according to Rabbi Kook, cannot be like all other states: The State of Israel is the foundation of God's throne on earth, directed towards the unity of the Lord and His name ... (Kook 1973:160). Eventually, the "audacious ones" will necessarily recognize their error and "return" completely to traditional Judaism. Thus harmony will again prevail in Jewish life. Therefore, the more that Redemption is realized, as symbolized in settlement of the Land of Israel, the flowering of its deserts, the establishment of the State of Israel, the Ingathering of the Exiles, etc., the more intense the consequent question: When will "complete return'' take place? Tensions will also increase as the gap widens between recognition that Redemption is underway and the realities of a secular and permissive Jewish society in Israel. Having presented the dichotomous essential positions regarding Zion-

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ism and the State of Israel expressed by the various components of religious Jewish society and the internal tensions prevailing in each, we return to the historical sphere and attempt to determine how these basic positions influenced the various lines of reasoning within religious Judaism regarding the contemporary State of Israel, which has experienced both the euphoria of the Six-Day War and the feeling of crisis and failure of the Yom Kippur War. Towards Jewish StatehoodThe Religious DilemmaPre-Holocaust The book Or Layesharim (Light unto the Righteous), written by Shlomo Z. Landa and Yosef Rabinowitz of Kovno and published in Warsaw in 1910, is a collection of letters and excerpts of articles by rabbis who opposed the "Zionist method" and its objectives. It opens with an exposition of the traditional religious anti-Zionist position, which comprises two components: a) theologicalZionism constitutes a denial of the hope for Messianic Redemption and is based on negation of the religious uniqueness of the Jewish People; b) political realityZionism is a false hope, a dangerous illusion which cannot possibly be fulfilled under existing political and economic conditions. Paradoxically, the anti-Zionist school does perceive of some "real basis" to the Jewish hope of establishing the ''Kingdom of Israel": this aspiration will be realized only in a miraculous, supernatural manner. This approach characterizes the "naive" stage in historical-religious thinking, wherein political-historical realities encouraged a traditional religious conception of Redemption. The Balfour Declaration (November 2, 1917) constituted the first disruption of this historical-religious harmony. In historical retrospect, it is relatively simple to downplay the significance of this declaration today; nevertheless, one cannot overestimate its dramatic influence on the Jewish masses, especially those living in Eastern Europe. Metaphorically speaking, they felt as if they actually heard the beating wings of Redemption. From the theological point of view, the Balfour Declaration was even more significant than Zionist activities in Palestine at that time. Although Zionist enterprise in Palestine was defined as "rebellion" against God and traditional faith in Redemption. Yet the Jew who believes in Divine Providence was almost compelled to believe that the Balfour Declaration was a manifestation of God's Grace. This political phenomenonwhich was issued as a result of Zionist lobbying and was addressed to the Zionist Executiveshook the foundations of traditional religious anti-Zionism as much as it encouraged religious Zionism. One standard means of coping with this "embarrassing" situation was the "reversal" method. For example, one outspoken authority belonging to

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the traditional religious anti-Zionist school was reported to have said that the Balfour Declaration was indeed a sign of Divine Grace, which was subsequently "ruined" by secular Zionists. To paraphrase this thought, the "time of remembrance" had arrived and had it not been for the Zionists, the Messiah himself would have come (Wasserman, 1939:7778). 4 Below, we note that this method of dealing with realities which conflict with internal religious logic was adopted repeatedly regarding more "problematic" incidents as well. The Peel Commission's conclusions (October 1937) first raised the real possibility of establishing a Jewish state in Palestine. The Commission's proposals led to heated debate among the Jews themselves, focusing on the issue of whether to assent to the partition of Palestine and establish a Jewish state in a small portion thereof. In the shadow of this major debate, the religious parties (Mizrachi and Agudat Israel) discussed the character of Jewish statehood among themselves, at the initiative and under the auspices of the Ashkenazi Chief Rabbi of Palestine, Isaac Halevi Herzog (Avidor-Hacohen, 1980:124133). Agudat Israel faced the more formidable challenge in the ideological sphere, whereas Mizrachi had to contend with a most serious practical dilemma: a secular Jewish state lacking all signs of affinity for Jewish tradition could represent an impossible situation for Mizrachi, while Agudat Israel could consider such conditions as confirmation of its essential position that Zionism is a rebellious, illegitimate movement. These paradoxical dialectics were reflected most interestingly in discussions with Rabbi Herzog. Mizrachi insisted that the constitution of the Jewish state must reflect attachment to tradition and Halacha. Agudat Israel representatives, in turn, however surprising it may seem at first glance, were far less militant; their primary demand was to be granted the right to live as they choose within their own autonomous systems (i.e. separate communities) within the framework of this Jewish state. At this point, we note an additional dialectic component which elucidates a rather surprising aspect of religious attitudes towards the establishment of a Jewish state in Palestine. From this point of view, the religious Zionists may find it difficult to adjust to the existence of a secular Jewish state. In contrast, the state which the anti-Zionist Orthodox condemn and attack may actually aid in coping with the basic difficulty entailed by the existence of a Jewish sovereign entity in Palestine unrelated to the process of Redemption. Paradoxically, the more secular the state becomes, the simpler life will be for anti-Zionist Orthodoxy. During the same period, these dialectics were also reflected in the deliberations of the Agudat Israel World Conference ("Great Assembly") (Marienbad, 1937) and of course throughout the brief history of the State of Israel. Most Assembly discussions were devoted to the question of the

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Jewish State (Levin, 1948; Kasher, 1972:2025; Shaag-Zwebner, 1956) against the background of the rise of the Nazis to power in Germany and increasing Antisemitism in Poland and Lithuania, wherein a significant percentage of traditional religious Jewry was living under a communist regime. Zionist Palestine was then among the only places of refuge, representing hope for the masses of European Jewry whose situation was steadily worsening. This political reality effectively corroborated the Zionist prognosis and again disproved the traditional basic assumptions concerning Jewish survival. Two distinct factions were discernible at the Great Assembly: The "left," which supported the establishment of a Jewish state and the "right," which rejected this possibility both on principle and on practical grounds. Below, we cite several decisions taken by the "Central Committee of Agudat Israel in the Land of Israel," representing old Ashkenazi community extremists who were among the heads of the "right-wing" faction: Agudat Israel in the Land of Israel rejects outright any attempt at despoiling the Land of Israel of its sanctity and considers the proposal to establish a secular Jewish state in Palestine as a hazard to the lofty role of the Jewish People as a holy nation. Agudat Israel in the Land of Israel declares that Orthodox Jewry could only agree to a Jewish state in all the Land of Israel if it were possible for the basic constitution of this state to guarantee Torah rule in the overall public and national life. Agudat Israel in the Land of Israel avers that as sufficient guarantees are lacking for recognition of Torah authority in public life, independent Jewish rule portends danger to Orthodox Jewry in general and to every observant Jew in particular insofar as education, community life, the Sabbath and other sacred aspects of the nation are concerned ... (Kol Israel, 1937). A contrasting view, offering a new solution to the dilemma which faced Agudat Israel as an anti-Zionist movement, was voiced by Assembly President Rabbi Yehuda Leib Czerelson. He supported both the Partition Plan and the concept of establishing a Jewish state in part of Palestine, notwithstanding the reasonable and widely-accepted assumption that this state would be controlled by "our freethinking brethren." He spoke explicitly of "Divine supervision realized by the recommendations of the British Government ..." and of the possibility that this phenomenon may indeed be a positive step in the Redemption process. Even if the government of this state would be run by secularists, Agudat Israel ought not refrain from supporting its establishment. We must assume that solution of the problem will come from on high, "for who are we to intervene in the secrets of the Lord?" The faithful must do all that behooves them and God will do what

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He must as well. This minority opinion was influenced perforce by the difficult situation of European Jewry at that time (Kasher, 1982:202203). A more practical approach, reflecting the internal contradictions which then faced the anti-Zionist Agudat Israel, was expressed by Dr. Isaac Breuer, an influential philosopher in his own right: If the Jewish State does not recognize the Torah as its constitution, then Agudat Israel cannot recognize it de jure. Nevertheless, on a practical basis, Agudat Israel cannot ignore the existence of such as state, as a state is not a voluntary organization. Moreover, it is a Jewish state after all, even if illegitimate; hence "we must beware of voicing a liberal demand for freedom of thought therein ... which could lead Agudat Israel itself to recognize the equal rights of negating the Torah (Reform Movements, M. F.) within the Jewish State of Israel ..." (Levin, 1948:56). This proposal, despite its outstanding internal contradiction, was effectively the only practical solution; in one form or another, Agudat Israel would adopt this solution henceforth. This proposal enabled Agudat Israel to navigate its course on the political plane, yet did not suffice to bridge the rift in historical-religious conscience. Various possible solutions were expressed both during and following Assembly deliberations. Rabbi Elhanan Wasserman, a disciple of Rabbi Israel Meir Hacohen (the Hafetz Haim) and Head of the Yeshiva of Branowicz, whose speeches and writings reflected the extreme "right-wing" faction, necessarily sensed and later addressed the full impact of the contradiction facing Agudat Israel. During Great Assembly discussions concerning the establishment of a Jewish state in Palestine, Rabbi Wasserman delivered a pointed programmatic address, excerpts of which are cited below: 5 The Zionist Organization is run by non-religious and anti-religious people. One case in point concerns an incident which occurred in Tel-Aviv on this past Sabbath of the Intermediate Days of Passover [he apparently refers to the Sabbath of the weekly Torah portion Emor, 20 Iyar 5697, which fell on May 1, 1937, M.F.] A demonstration was organized, including red flags, one of which bore the inscription: 'Remember the Sabbath Day, [the first of May] to keep it holy,' underscoring the declaration of war against the Kingdom of Heaven. Examining the situation of world Jewry, we see that the Heavens have accepted this declaration of war: If you want to wage war against the Holy One, blessed be He, then go ahead and fight! [emphasis mineM.F.] Now let us determine what Halacha declares about the government of so progressive a state which celebrated May Day with such fervor. They will undoubtedly institute compulsory schools with a government curriculum. It is not difficult to imagine what this curriculum would be, considering present schools as a model. At present, when there is no state, a certain percentage of religious Jews educate their children in religious schools. But once there are compul-

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sory schools, they will be forced to obey the directives of the government. Even if freedom of conscience is promised in the constitution of the new state, that is, that Torah-observant Jews will be granted certain rights regarding education, we already know from our experience in many countries in which Jews are accorded equal rights, that the actual situation is different ... As there are people, observant Jews, who declare that this is the advent of Redemption, we must inform them that according to our Holy Torah, it is nothing but the advent of Exile. What does this mean? I refer to the exile of the Yevsektsiya, (Yevreiskaya SektsiaThe Jewish Section in the communist party in Russia) an exile the likes of which the Jews have never known before. No one could imagine such an exile, except for Jews coming from Russia, who do have some idea, although the Yevskis, after all, are not the ruling government ... One of this generation's greatest Sages recently told me: 'When I hear them speaking of the "advent of Redemption," my flesh crawls.' In another context, we might well say that this [situation] does bring Redemption closer. The Vilna Gaon declared that all the woes which the Jews suffer in Exile are destined to hasten Redemption. As the Jewish State is our greatest woe, we must hope that it will bring Redemption closer, as it was in Egypt, where the hardship of slavery brought nigh the end ..." Below, we summarize Rabbi Wasserman's views, which reflect the current situation much as they do their own time: Rabbi Wasserman rejected in principle the possibility that a Jewish state under Zionist rule could be considered the "advent of 1. Redemption." The goal of Zionism, like that of the Yevsektsia in Soviet Russia, is to uproot religion and tradition. But the danger of Zionism is even greater, as it is supposed to comprise the actual regime in the Jewish state, whereas the Yevsektsia is only a branch of the (non-Jewish) Russian government. Elsewhere (Wasserman, 1963, p. 101), Rabbi Wasserman augments this view with a fundamental theological claim: "The Holy One, blessed be He, does not render His Torah fraudulent." Hence one cannot accept Rabbi Kook's dialectical conception that the "wicked" have a positive role in the Redemption process; a secular Jewish society cannot represent a stage in the Redemption plan. 2. The troubles suffered by European Jewryi.e. the Jews of Poland, Lithuania and Nazi Germanyare punishment for Zionist deeds. By opposing the Torah in the Land of Israel, the Zionists have declared war against the Kingdom of Heaven and the misfortunes of the Jews are God's reaction thereunto. This view constitutes a bold if somewhat veiled attempt to heal the rift in anti-Zionist historicalreligious thinking, wherein the anti-Zionist Orthodox seek shelter in Zionist Palestine by explaining the situa-

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tion ad absurdum: The Zionists are not the saviors of the Jewish People but rather the cause of their woes. Jewish political realities preceding World War II did not disprove the accepted religious historical conception but rather, paradoxically, supported it. Later, Rabbi Wasserman published a booklet in Yiddish. The Footsteps of the Messiah (Wasserman, 1939), in which he developed the following concept: Deviance from religion and tradition from the beginning of the Haskala until Zionism, seeks to blur the substantive boundaries between Jews and Gentiles, whether through individual and cultural assimilation among the non-Jews amidst whom the Jews dwell, or in a "national" (Zionistic) manner, rendering Israel "a nation like all other nations." This situation is untenable, as it denies the Jewish and non-Jewish essence alike. Hence the more that Jews attempt to assimilate among the Gentiles, the stronger and more violent the latter's reaction. By preserving their religious and ethnic uniqueness within the framework of a religious-tradition life, Jews may guarantee their survival among the non-Jews. The rise of Nazism to power in Germany, of all countries, the land from which the first of the "Enlightened" came and a model and reference group for those of Eastern Europe, is the conclusive "proof" of this historical-religious conception. As indicated below, this concept gained popularity among vast circles in Agudat Israel after the Holocaust and the establishment of the State of Israel, as it rehabilitated the traditional historical-religious conception and restored its integrity and internal logic simply and decisively: there is reward and punishment and "The Holy One, blessed be He, does not render His Torah fraudulent.'' 3. Finally and in spite of all, there is something about these events which does hasten Redemption, as the era of the "footsteps of the Messiah" is upon us. However, this situation is not the result of any essentially positive dialectical process of Jewish immigration to Palestine, building the country and making its deserts bloom, nor is the nationalist Zionist Movement to be considered a manifestation of "partial return" [to Judaism]. Rather, the converse is true: the situation is worsening steadily and the building of a secular Land of Israel is the clearest expression of deviance from religion and tradition, utter heresy and the epitome of Exile. Hence these ills constitute pre-Messianic tribulations. As shown below, religious Zionists and anti-Zionists alike, although proceeding from diametrically opposed points of departure, often used similar terminology, e.g. "the footsteps of the Messiah," the "advent of Redemption," etc.

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Towards Jewish StatehoodThe Religious DilemmaPost Holocaust The Holocaust was the most definitive "proof" of the "truth" of the Zionist solution. From the religious Zionist viewpoint, it constituted an obvious paradigm with a dual message: we were right all along and theythe Orthodox anti-Zionists, not only erred but also bear a certain measure of guilt. They not only opposed Zionism but also persecuted Zionists and hampered their activities. They prevented Jews from immigrating to Palestine while the gates were still open. They did not participate in the ''building" of the Land of Israel and only escaped there once the sword was already at their throats. Agudat Israel itself suffered a deep crisis after the Holocaust, especially in the ideological sphere. Certain incisive questions could not be ignored concerning the significance of the Holocaust from a religious point of view on the one hand and the Zionist enterprise in Palestine on the othertwo historical phenomena linked in a kind of cause and effect relationship. Several of Eastern European Jewry's most important religious leaders, such as Gerer Rebbe Abraham M. Alter and Belzer Rebbe Aharon Rokach, had to flee to Palestine during the height of the war, escaping the blazing Diaspora inferno by the skin of their teeth, thus exacerbating the prevailing atmosphere of confusion. The passive behavior of Holocaust victims ("as lambs to the slaughter") was likewise perceived as "guilt" and was attributed to the religious-traditional "Diaspora mentality." There was also an institutional crisis: Eastern European Jewry, with all its religious and educational institutions, effectively constituted the bulk of Agudat Israel's resources. Agudat Israel possessed little to nothing in the West and in Palestine. Now, all these assets were annihilated. Several competing power bases were created in an attempt to cope with the new situation. Details of this development are beyond the scope of the present study. It suffices to indicate the three rival bodies which emerged in Palestine: The Executive Committee, headed by Rabbi Itzhak Meir Levinleader of Agudat Israel in Poland and the son-in-law of the Gerer Rebbeand by Itzhak Breuer, a leader of the new Orthodoxy in Germany; The Agudat Israel Center in the Land of Israel, headed by Rabbi Moshe Blau, primarily representing the old Jewish community in Palestine and the anti-Zionist "right." Poalei Agudat Israel, headed by Binyamin Mintz and Yaakov Landau, representing the "left wing" which sought to integrate somehow into the Zionist enterprise. Agudat Israel affairs were wearying in the Diaspora as well: In England, Agudat Israel was controlled by "right-winger" Harry Goodman and tended to support the Agudat Israel Center.

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In New York, Yaakov Rosenheim was the elderly president of the Agudat Israel Movement, which was fighting for survival against new factors emerging as a result of the local situation. An economic crisis prevailed as well. Agudat Israel utterly lacked financial means and found it difficult to raise the minimal resources required to maintain its various organizational bodies. The most obvious manifestation of Agudat Israel's intensive crisis was the movement's failure to consolidate the "Council of Torah Sages" as an active body bearing responsibility. No matter how this situation is explained, "the silence of the Sages" was severe indeed. Articles published by the various factions of Agudat Israel overtly rebut Zionist criticism of Agudat Israel and its anti-Zionist line. One most interesting, skillful and outspoken critic was Moshe Scheinfeld, a typical returnee to the faith, idealist and ascetic, who had joined the Aguda Youth's "kibbutz" in Kfar Saba. Following differences of opinion and an internal crisis, he left the kibbutz and moved to Bnei Brak, where he became a founder of the Agudat Israel Young Guard (Tel-Aviv, 1944). Scheinfeld developed an attachment to Rabbi Abraham Y. Karlitz (the Hazon Ish) and later became an incisive and extreme anti-Zionist ideologue with considerable influence on the development of Orthodox thought in the new "yeshiva world." However, between 1945 and 1948, Scheinfeld was Agudat Israel's harshest critic "from within" because of the movement's failures in Palestine. Scheinfeld attacked Agudat Israel for having ''ignored" the Land of Israel during the period preceding the war and demanded adamantly that the movement focus its resources in Palestine on construction and eduational enterprises. The Holocaust cast its shadow over Agudat Israel, forcing some form of reconciliation with the Zionist policies leading to partition of Palestine and establishment of the State of Israel. Agudat Israel's representative, M.D. Levinstein, signed the Declaration of Independence and the party subsequently joined the Provisional Government of Israel. The issue of establishment of a Jewish state in Palestine became more relevant during the latter half of 1946. At first glance, it is surprising to note how little time Mizrachi devoted to basic questions concerning the nature of the Jewish state-in-the-making. The Mizrachi Movement largely paid lip service to this issue and failed to address it as a substantive and fateful religious question. Below, we summarize the complex explanation for this attitude, focusing on two major aspects thereof: In 1946 and 1947, questions regarding the establishment of a Jewish state did not focus directly the Jewish-Arab struggle, as they 1.

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did in 1937, but rather addressed another problem, then perceived as more acute and significant: the immigration of Holocaust survivors. Great Britain refused to permit the free immigration of Holocaust survivors to Palestine and the establishment of a Jewish state was viewed as the only possible solution to the problem. Consequently, the projected Jewish character of this state was perceived as a secondary issue which ought not detract from the main objective of savings lives. 2. The Mizrachi Movement and its component factions constituted not only a religious Zionist movement but also a modern Zionist movement. Its values and views derived from two sources: religious traditionto which it was committed in principleand modern liberal values, thus engendering a dichotomy which could not be ignored. Mizrachi ideologues claimed that there was no essential contradiction between modernism and adherence to Halacha and traditional values; it is possible to establish a modern stateeven a liberal oneand maintain its Jewish identity according to Halacha. In the practical sphere, the question assumed a somewhat different character and the popular response to it reflected exclusive dependence on the rabbis and their willingness to employ legitimate techniques to adapt Halacha to the exigencies of a modern society and state. Hence Mizrachi tended not to raise such fundamental issues which would put into question the participation of the religious-Zionist in the establishment of the State. At this stage in Jewish history, when complete Redemption was not perceived as imminent, religious Zionism did not concern itself with defining the essence of a Jewish state. The state-in-the-making at that time was not the "State of Israel" of which Rabbi Kook spoke, 6 i.e. "the foundation of the throne of God on earth, directed solely towards unifying the Lord and His name." The concept used since 1937or even earlier, in referring to the Balfour Declarationwas the intentionally nebulous term "advent of Redemption" or ''first sign of Redemption." As this concept has no clear theological significance, it could serve all factionsreligious Zionism and Agudat Israel alikeduring the State of Israel's initial years. This intentional obfuscation enabled religious Zionism to consider the State of Israel as a positive religious value while relating to it as a secular state in the concrete Halachic sphere. It should be recalled that Ashkenazi Chief Rabbi Isaac Halevi Herzog indeed declared that the state should be based on Halacha and even formulated a religious constitution for the State of Israel. Needless to say, his proposals were accorded no serious consideration in the political sphere.

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Attitudes manifested by the various religious groups to the concept of establishment of a Jewish state during the generation following the Holocaust ought not be considered from a theoretical point of view alone. Neither Agudat Israel nor religious Zionism could ignore the emotional and symbolic significance of the event. Ultimately, even the anti-Zionist Agudat Israel could not oppose the establishment of the state openly, even if it had good ideological and practical reasons for doing so. Rabbi Herzog described this situation as follows: The State of Israel has posed difficult problems which demand review and clarification by Torah sages. I was among the enthusiastic supporters of the concept of a Jewish state, even though I knew that among the Torah sages, lovers of Israel like myself fear its establishment. They were prepared to settle for free immigration ... [the alternative preferred by Agudat IsraelM.F.] I am convinced that the State of Israel is a vital necessityand not only to save the lives of hundreds of thousands of survivors of the Holocaust in Europe and provide salvation for our brethren in Islamic lands ... In my heart, I have determined that it is something intrinsically and powerfully demanded by Judaism itself. It was clear as daylight to me that the awesome Holocaust ... has shaken the foundations of faith rooted so deeply in the hearts of Jews throughout the world. I feared that if the nascent dawn in the Land of our Forefathers and the Prophets were to disappear and long lay concealed, God forbid, the bitter consequences could jeopardize the very survival of Judaism ... (Herzog, 195557:9). Considerable attention has been accorded to political discussions within Agudat Israel and between Agudat-Israel and the Zionist Jewish Agency after World War II concerning the danger to Judaism inherent in the establishment of a Jewish state (Aloni, 1971:9092; Prager, 1964:6263; Levin, 1964, p. 64). However, an investigation and perusal of relevant archival material reveals much of it to be inaccurate (Friedman, 1983:6986). A brief description of the actual course of events follows: The situation in Palestine worsened after Great Britain refused to amend the 1939 White Paper and open the gates of Palestine to the Holocaust survivors then crowded in DP camps in Germany. Underground organizations (the Irgun and the Stern Group) began to undertake acts of terrorism against the British authorities, gaining unprecedented support this time among the Jews. The military arm of the "established" Jewish community (the Haganah) concentrated primarily on arranging "illegal" immigration (Aliyah Bet), thereby challenging Britain's status in world public opinion. On the basis of these activities and political attempts to solve the refugee problem (the AngloAmerican Enquiry Commission of March-April 1946 and the United Nations Special Commission on Palestine [UNSCOP]June-July 1947), contacts were made between the Jewish Agency and the Ex-

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ecutive Committee of Agudat Israel in Jerusalem. Discussions centered on the possibility that the struggle would culminate in the establishment of a Jewish state in Palestine, although other issues were considered as well (the co-opting of Agudat Israel to the Jewish Agency and the transfer of some UJA funds to Agudat Israel). Obviously, the Jewish Agency did not want any consequential Jewish factor to appear before the commissions and negate their two basic demands: free Jewish immigration and a Jewish state. From Agudat Israel's point of view, the ideal solution to the crisis in Palestine would be the establishment of what they called "political rule," which would allow for free immigration and rescind the other restrictions stipulated in the White Paper, although without Jewish sovereignty over all or part of Palestine (Minutes of the Agudat Israel Executive Committee meeting (A), November 24, 1946). Agudat Israel leaders were not so naive as to believe that the state to be established would be a Halachic one. Agudat Israel representative Rabbi Itzhak M. Levin, meeting with Moshe Shertok (Sharett), Head of the Political Department of the Jewish Agency and Eliezer Kaplan, the Jewish Agency Treasurer, asked if it would be possible "for the constitution to conform with the Torah." The two responded unequivocally that it would be impossible. Yaakov Rosenheim, President of World Agudat Israel, who was then in New York, adopted an extremely negative stand regarding the establishment of a Jewish state, expressing his views in a detailed memorandum on the subject: The establishment of a sovereign Jewish state on the basis of democratic majority denies the Jewish political concept of sovereignty of 1. the laws of God's Torah. 2. A secular Jewish state will impose no legal or psychological restraints on the power of the secular and anti-religious rulers, who will not be likely to make concessions to the religious minority. 3. Nothing will be done in a sovereign Jewish state to prevent separation of religion and state and radical secularization of Jewish life, as in the sphere of marital laws, which would have consequences liable to affect the nation's unity [adversely]. 4. A sovereign Jewish state will symbolize the Jewish People as a nation like all other nations. Its secular leaders, who violate the Sabbath and all God's covenant with His people, will be recognized as the leaders of the entire Jewish People. This situation would strike a severe blow at the concept of return unto the Lord, the Ruler of the Universe, which the Prophets declared to be the objective of humankind (Rosenheim Memorandum, November 1946; Minutes of the Agudat Israel Executive Committee meeting (A), November 24, 1946). 7

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Now, Agudat Israel leaders faced the question of whether to express this stand explicitly before the inquiry commissions. They decided in the negative, irrespective of their negotiations with the Jewish Agency. They were indeed in dire straits, as the unambiguous ruling they sought so desperately from their Council of Torah Sages was not forthcoming. 8 However, in personal conversations, most members of the Council agreed that Agudat Israel should not oppose the Jewish state in public: "... They believe that it would be a both collective and individual danger and that it would be better to dodge the issue." (Minutes of the Agudat Israel Executive Committee meeting, October 2, 1946). Even Rabbi Yosef Z. Dushinsky, leader of the Orthodox Eda Haredit, then (1945) under the increasing influence of the Neturei Karta and their supporters, responded: "One should not oppose it publicly as it is a collective and individual risk. One should elude it." (Minutes of the Agudat Israel Executive Committee meeting, October 2, 1946). In discussions of the Agudat Israel Executive Committee on January 20, 1946, Rabbi Itzhak M. Levin summed up the issue as follows: "... To declare whole-heartedly that we are in favor of the state is difficult for us so long as there is no guarantee regarding religious affairs. A Jewish State in Palestine which does not conform with the Torah is a profanation of God in Israel and among the nations and a danger to the Jewish religion. However, just as it is impossible to favor the state in good faith, so too is it impossible to oppose it. Otherwise, the name of God would be profaned as all blame is attributed to us, Orthodox Jewry, for hampering and thwarting [establishment of a Jewish state]. Rabbi Dushinsky and the Brisker Rebbe (Rabbi Zeev Soloveitchik) likewise instruct us not to oppose it." This line was followed consistently by Agudat Israel representatives in their appearances before the inquiry commissions. They attempted to avoid stating openly that they were in favor of the Jewish state, but they also avoided saying that they opposed it. Negotiations between Agudat Israel and the Jewish Agency were primarily concrete and practical, aimed guaranteeing minimum conditions for the Orthodox Jew to live in the secular Jewish state insofar as the Sabbath, dietary laws, marital laws and education were concerned. These issues were raised for discussion as early as 1937, following deliberations on the Peel Commission's Partition Plan.9 As the significance of these minimum conditions is largely misunderstood, we attempt below to clarify the underlying reasons for Agudat Israel's having focused on these particular issues. Above, we cited the address of Rabbi Elhanan Wasserman before the 1937 Great Assembly at Marienbad. As indicated, Wasserman was the spokesman of the "right," although he used terminology acceptable to a decisive majority of Agudat Israel members. For Wasserman, as for the typi-

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cal Orthodox Jew, there was no difference between the militant anti-religious philosophy and objectives of the Yevsektsia in the Soviet Union and those of the Jewish socialist parties in Palestine. If there is any difference, according to Wasserman, then the Yevsektsia is preferable: after all, it's only a subordinate of the non-Jewish Soviet government and is necessarily limited thereby, whereas the Jewish socialists in Palestine consider it their objective to uproot all traces of religion and tradition. The Orthodox genuinely feared that the Jewish Sabbath would not be recognized as the official day of rest in the Jewish state. They cited the accepted practice at kibbutzim, the model of the ideal socialist community, in which the day of rest was determined on an individual basis and ranged throughout the seven days of the week at each person's discretion. Besides the Sabbath violation foreseen in city streets, they were concerned that government offices would operate on the Sabbath; hence religious workers would not be able find jobs there. They feared that government offices, the army, the police and other public institutions would have non-kosher kitchens and religious Jews would consequently find it difficult to serve and work there. After all, their own eyes had witnessed the "Workers' Kitchens," belonging to the Histadrut (Labor Federation), which serve nonkosher food from which religious Histadrut members cannot benefit. Insofar as education is concerned, they realized that a socialist state would seek to enact a compulsory education law. Would they not close Orthodox veshivas and elementary schools? How would the right to educate children in one's own spirit be guaranteed in a secular-socialist state? The example of Soviet Russia stood before their eyes like a nightmare. Finally, if the Halachic marriage laws are not recognized as the law of the land, religious Jews could not intermarry with children of secular Jews and the schism between the religious and the secular in the Jewish state would be interminable. Discussions proceeded slowly. Agudat Israel representatives always believed that the Jewish Agency sought to dupe them and carry on discussions indefinitely. Their discussions lacked force both because Agudat Israel had no real power to enforce its demands and because they were not convinced at all that a Jewish state would ultimately be established. On the contrary, events up to the November 1947 United Nations Decision appeared to lead in the reverse direction. Contacts became more frequent just before the arrival of the UNSCOP delegation (June 1947). On June 9, 1947, Agudat Israel representatives met with Ben-Gurion and presented their position, indicating that they were prepared to demand the establishment of a Jewish state in their testimony before the commission if it would be a state run according to the Torah and if religious demands were guaranteed in its constitution. But Ben-

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Gurion responded immediately that this could not be promised in advance. The decision must be left to the parliament of the state, once it is established. Agudat Israel representatives expected this reaction and immediately proceeded to issue their minimum concrete demands, requesting a commitment regarding five issues: 1) marital lawsno civil marriages; 2) the Sabbath; 3) dietary laws; 4) autonomy in education; 5) freedom of religious conscience [i.e. freedom to organize in separate Orthodox communitiesM.F.] Ben-Gurion responded as follows: Marital Laws: He foresaw no difficulties in arranging matters "according to the Torah." The Sabbath: There were several difficulties in this matter, e.g. operation of the railways, post office and the civil service (!). Agudat Israel was asked to propose a solution which would enable operation of these services without Sabbath violation. Education: BenGurion declared that there would be no compulsory secular education. Rabbi Itzhak Meir Levin summed up the meeting for his colleagues, indicating that "he [Ben-Gurion] spoke beautifully!" However, his response included no commitment whatsoever. On June 19, 1947, Agudat Israel received a letter from the Jewish Agency, signed by BenGurion, Rabbi Yehuda Leib Fishman (Maimon) and Itzhak Greenbaum, today (erroneously) called the "Status Quo Letter." Its contents have been publicized frequently (Aloni, 1971; Prager, 1964) and need not be repeated here. Considering the background detailed above, the letter clearly does not refer to the status quo in religious affairs which prevailed during the pre-State period. It contains no formal commitment; rather, it constitutes a declaration of intention aimed at placating Agudat Israel, which feared that the Orthodox Jew would be unable to live in the Jewish State. The letter declares that the Sabbath would be the official day of rest, yet includes no details regarding prevention of Sabbath violation in the Halachic sense, nor does it mention anything about public transportation on the Sabbath. It relates to specific Agudat Israel demands only regarding marital laws. The Executive Committee of Agudat Israel met on that same day to discuss the letter. The consensus was as follows: Agudat Israel policy should not be changed even after receipt of this letter, which effectively says nothing and bears no real commitment. Rabbi Levin appeared before the UNSCOP members and succeeded in refraining from expressing himself in favor of or in opposition to the establishment of a Jewish State. In his reports to Yaakov Rosenheim and Harry Goodman, he based himself on the opinions of the "extremist rabbis" such as the Brisker Rav and Rabbi Dushinsky, who stated explicitly that one should not oppose establishment of the Jewish State, thereby "preventing a desecration of God [by implying] that the Orthodox are disruptive." Agudat Israel appears to have reacted compulsively to these dramatic

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events. The atmosphere changed, however, after the UNSCOP commission recommended partition of Palestine and establishment of a Jewish state in the larger portion thereof. Agudat Israel eventually succeeded in convening a Council of Torah Sages and obtaining a religious ruling. This development may well have been influenced by the momentous events of the period, which necessarily affected Agudat Israel's leaders as well as its rank and file. On November 5, 1947, the Council of Torah Sages met to consider whether to respond to the Jewish Agency's proposal to join its Security Committee and the National Council. The Council decided in favor of joining the Security Committee, but a separate meeting was called to discuss joining other institutions. The Council also decided that "nothing is to be done against the Jewish State or to thwart the securing of a two-thirds majority in the United Nations in favor of establishing the State." About three weeks later, on November 25, 1947, four days before the United Nations vote on the UNSCOP recommendations, the Rebbe of Sadigura, Rabbi Abraham Friedman, appeared before the Agudat Israel Executive Committee and harshly criticized the Torah Sages for their evasion of issues which he believed "concern the entire Jewish People." He added that the State of Israel is not a "cruel edict" but rather "salvation" which we may transform into "great salvation.'' Such words had not been voiced previously in Agudat Israel. On November 30, 1947, one day after the UN decision, the Agudat Israel Executive Committee met and similar opinions were expressed by two outstanding personalities in this movement: Raphael Katzenellenbogen and Hanoch (Henik) Sankewitz. Declaration of the Jewish State is a historical phenomenon. After two millenia of exile and servitude, we have been granted part of the Land of Israel to establish a Jewish state, with the assent of all the world's nations. This is undoubtedly Divine Providence which transcends nature. Surely it is not the Redemption for which we yearn, but it is a [Divine] "remembrance" and the advent of Redemption. We must appeal to the Jewish People to exploit this historic moment as a spiritual turning point, return to the ways of Torah and prepare ourselves for complete Redemption. The substance and nature of these words are so different from those expressed in this same forum over the two preceding yearseven by these same two personalities. Moreover, the above-cited speech was not delivered at a public assembly or before ardent Zionists, but rather within a limited forum which still upheld a basic anti-Zionist conception. The only plausible explanation for this turnabout is rooted in deep religious convictions

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based on Jewish tradition and historical experience: For those who believe that relations between Jews and non-Jews have religious significance and that the Gentiles are the instrument of God's wrath, the public, ceremonial assent of the world's nations, as embodied in the UN decision, must be a sign of Divine Providence, a far more overt expression of God's grace than any act or mishap befalling the Jews themselves. To what extent does this turnabout challenge the preconceived notions, ideology and pragmatics which had always characterized Agudat Israel? Similar ideas undoubtedly arose and internal contradictions have intensified because of events following the UN decision: the declaration of the State of Israel, the War of Independence and the initial waves of mass immigration"the Ingathering of the Exiles." At his meeting with the Council of Torah Sages on February 16, 1949, Rabbi Levin, Welfare Minister in the first Israel Government, stated: Great events have taken place: a state has arisen, we vanquished our enemies and there is Ingathering of the Exiles ... There is no doubt that the hand of God is guiding it all ... We face mighty contradictions. Agudat Israel's premise was to oppose public life which does not conform with the Torah. Now, the State of Israel constitutes a continuation of Zionism and the realization of its aspirations. On the other hand, had the Torah Sages and Orthodox Jewry become involved when the matter first arose, we might not be such a minority today and things would be different. We also cannot ignore the fact that the new Jewish community in Palestine was built up primarily by secular Jews and also the keys to jobs, arrangements for new immigrants and all aspects of daily life. Orthodox Jewry has done very little; hence its influence has declined. One may presume that such thoughts concerning Agudat Israel's historical path were not held exclusively by Rabbi Levin. Jewish StatehoodThe Religious Dilemma: 19481967 ... We thank the Lord in His great mercy and grace for enabling us to behold the first buds of the 'advent of Redemption' with the establishment of the State of Israel. The Lord has shown us that this is indeed an opportune time, behooving us to rally courageously to God's side, so that our land and our country will be built and consolidated in total sanctity ... (from a declaration of support for the United Religious Front preceding the elections to the First Knesset (1949), signed by the Chief Rabbis and many heads of yeshivas in Israel). 10

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The term "advent of Redemption," which bears intense religious-historical significance yet is non-binding from a religious point of view, was then found appropriate by various religious factions, Zionist and anti-Zionist alike, except for a small and extreme minority (Neturei Karta) which still held the traditional anti-Zionist line and rejected out of hand all Jewish-Zionist conceptions and actions in Palestine/Israel. However, even within the consensus, two trends may be discerned which reflect the two basic religious concepts which are applied to the political reality: A) The Zionist view declared that the establishment of the State of Israel symbolized a change in historical reality that defined the religious significance of this reality. B) The alternative conception, in contrast, apparently sought to ignore the religious symbolism of the establishment of the State, as if it were nothing but a marginal event. According to the latter position, the primary religious significance of the new political reality is embodied by the Ingathering of the Exiles on the one hand and the salvation of Jews from their enemies in the War of Independence on the other. In other words, the State of Israel does not symbolize any new religious-historical entity, but is rather an instrument in the long historical process of Israel's Redemption, which is still far from realization. This is a most important distinction between the views of two religious factions which generally tended to blur differences between them, intentionally or otherwise. As an example, we cite two quotations which express the respective views: Rabbi Reuven Katz, who served as the Chief Rabbi of Petah Tikva for many years, was a Lithuanian-trained rabbi who published 1. several Halachic works conforming with the standard Lithuanian method of yeshiva study. However, he was also undeniably involved in the Jewish community in Palestine and clearly influenced feelings therein. In an article about Independence Day 1951, he noted that our generation "has merited witnessing the advent of Redemption. We have been graced with beholding the independence of Israel [emphasis mineM.F.] which many generations have yearned for." (Katz, 1952:305309). 2. Rabbi Yehiel M. Tokachinsky, a typical functionary and scholar of the old Ashkenazi community and a relative of Rabbi Shmuel Salant, was the director of the Etz Haim Yeshiva. His views then represented those of Agudat Israel' central faction. For many years, he issued an annual calendar of Jewish customs (Luah Eretz Israel), which most synagogues in Palestine followed in determining the order of their prayers. In 1955, he published his Sefer Eretz Israel (The Book of the Land of Israel), in whose preface he wrote:

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A great change has taken place in the life of our people over the past eight years and a new chapter has opened in Jewish history. The original great Jewish centers of the Diaspora have been destroyed ... After the destruction of these communities, a new era began in our country, the Land of Israel. The scattered of Israel are returning to the land ... from the lands of the Diaspora ... 'And thy children shall return to their own border' ... Those who do not take the realities of our world for granted will perceive uncountable miracles and the very hosts of Heaven in all this substance, in the fulfillment of every clump of earth ... Throughout all the vicissitudes of Jewish history ... this wondrous process is unprecedented and unparalleled among all the world's nations. Surely one must also recognize that this new change is an initial bud of the prophetic vision: '... and gather you from all the nations, and from all the places ...' For after the Ingathering of the Exiles, with God's help, we will advance farther until we attain the complete Redemption for which we yearn ... ... Now, on the establishment of the State of Israel, as the gates of the land are opened to the scattered of Israel and the Land of Israel, with God's help, will soon again constitute the home and metropolis of the nation, the burning question is: Will the Land of Israel and Jerusalem (up to the designated time of complete Redemption and return of the Divine Presence to Israel) become a kind of Babel, an admixture of numerous and varied customs? ... In his lengthy introduction, which relates to the "new era" with sincere religious wonder, Rabbi Tokachinsky does not mention the establishment of the State of Israel as a religious event with significance and value in its own right. Rather, he recalls it only incidentally in noting the more important phenomenon of "Ingathering of the Exiles." According to Tokachin-sky, the establishment of the State does not have intrinsic value but only ascribed value because of the circumstances enabling the Ingathering of the Exiles. The calendars produced by Tokachinsky and those currently issued by his son, Nisan, do not mention Israel Independence Day at all and obviously posit no change in conventional religious practices and customs. Note that during the initial years of the State of Israel, Agudat Israel's newspapers preferred the term "advent of the Ingathering of the Exiles" to "advent of Redemption" when referring to Independence Day. It is also interesting to note the Zionist-religious view, as expressed in the anthology Torah Umedina (Torah and State), published by the Rabbinic Alliance of Hapoel Hamizrachi. For example, in the Nisan 5709 (1949) edition, we read: ... We have merited witnessing that which eighty generations of Israel did notthe establishment of a Hebrew State, the foundation and basis for the im-

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minent Kingdom of Israel and our complete Redemption from the introduction by Rabbinic Alliance Head Catriel P. Tchorsh). ... The long and dark period of Divine wrath is now coming to an end before our very eyes and an era of splendor and brilliance begins, that of the Kingdom of Israel ... (from the editors' introduction). The difference between those last citations and the two which preceded it could hardly by overstated. The dramatic events which reached their peak with the declaration of the State of Israel and victory in the War of Independence sufficed, at least prima facie, to corroborate the religious Zionist view in the historical-theological sphere, irrespective of the significance of these events insofar as the Redemption process is concerned. However, perception of reality from the religious Zionist point of view was actually far more complex; the distress suffered by religious Zionist ideologues and spokesmen regarding the religious significance of the events which they experienced was perhaps no less severe than that of the anti-Zionist spokesmen. This situation was reflected most interestingly in the Chief Rabbinate's ruling regarding the question of whether Hallel (Psalms 112119recited on Festivals, at the beginning of each month and on Hanukkah as a prayer of thanksgiving for miracles) ought to be recited on Independence Day as well. Relevant material indicates that the demand for ritual expression of the sense of Redemption and gratitude to God for the miracles of the War of Independence came "from below," from the Zionistreligious public. If miracles indeed occurred (and miracles constituted an important element in explaining reality among the various religious factions) and if we are indeed experiencing the "advent of Redemption," ought we not express it in prayer? The Chief Rabbinate decided (in 1950 and 1951) that Hallel should be recited on Independence Day, although without its attendant blessing ("Blessed art Thou, O Lord our God, Ruler of the Universe, who has sanctified us with His commandments and has commanded us to read Hallel") (Rackover, 1973 [Appendices]. 11 This decision engendered a bitter public dispute: circles close to Agudat Israel generally rejected this decision, as they refused to recognize the establishment of the State of Israel in any religious manner whatsoever. Another sector, whose commitment to the Zionist ideal stemmed from deep religious consciousness, considered the establishment of the State as an overt sign of Divine Grace, representing a decisive stage in the redemption process; hence its adherents rejected the Chief Rabbinate's decision because they believed that the blessing should be recited. However, there were many who did not accept the decision.12 During the initial years of independence, these differences of opinion were expressed by con-

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flicts in synagogues on Independence Day, especially between those who rejected the Chief Rabbinate's decision outright and those who supported the recitation of Hallel, either with or without the blessing (Rackover, 1973:178, ff.). The Chief Rabbinate's decision that Hallel is to be recited without the blessing apparently sought to placate all sides. Some interpreted this decision as a sign of weakness, as an attempt to discharge a perfunctory obligation. The traditional religious society identified with or to the "right" of Agudat Israel was not prepared under any circumstances to alter its liturgy and certainly would not add Hallel to the service. There were several non-mutually exclusive reasons for this phenomenon: First, Orthodox society was characterized by religious conservatism and was not open to change in any aspect of life, a fortiori in the order of prayers and the attendant customs. Second, the reciting of Hallel implies religious legitimization of the State of Israel as an event bearing positive religious significance and intrinsic religious value. While this Orthodox society may have viewed the establishment of the State as an expression of Divine Providence, it was unwilling to proceed farther. Any such step would be interpreted necessarily as recognition of the State of Israel as the "advent of Redemption" and as retroactive legitimization of Zionism and its activities in the Land of Israel. The Chief Rabbinate could not ignore this social-religious reality. It certainly did not wish to risk condemnation by the "Torah Sages" and heads of yeshivas, nor to foment schisms in synagogues on an issue so sensitive as the order of prayers. The Hallel-without-a-blessing solution could be accepted by the hesitant and by Agudat Israel adherents, who could assuage their religious consciences by considering recitation of Hallel as no more than a reading of the Psalms. However strange it may seem, this view undoubtedly carried weight in the practical sphere: despite the tensions between supporters and opponents of reciting Hallel in synagogues, all could unite around this "compromise." However, this explanation alone apparently does not suffice to reflect the religious dilemma facing the Chief Rabbinate. No matter how convinced Ashkenazi Chief Rabbi Isaac Halevi Herzog was that the State of Israel is the "first sign of our Redemption," 13 he could not ignore the State's secular-democratic nature and the absence of a central and essential component of the Redemption process: "Return [to observant Judaism]" (Herzog 1948). It was difficult for the religious Jew to cope with this contradiction, and the Chief Rabbinate's decision expresses internal religious unease no less than its need to satisfy all schools of thought in the religious public. Religious Zionist sectors were confounded, to say the least, in facing the reality of a secular Jewish state. The establishment of the State of Is-

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rael and the Ingathering of the Exiles were interpreted as Divine Grace, thereby according retroactive Divine "approval" to the religious Zionist view. However, daily life in the State of Israel was a painful contradiction which aroused confusion and skepticism. Struggles against militant secularism in government education policy and other spheres further intensified religious discomfort with the state. Rabbi Moshe Zvi Neria, head of the Bnei Akiva Yeshiva at Kfar Haroeh, was believed to be one of Rabbi Kook's most outstanding disciples and a spiritual leader of Hapoel Hamizrachi, wrote the following as part of a Halachic discussion regarding the reciting of Hallel on Independence Day (Neria, 1952:239240): ... Material and even political redemption do not suffice to demand any permanent obligatory thanksgiving and praise, as such redemption does not embody the total vision. We have already had such [redemption] and lost it ... Redemption must entail spiritual freedom and uplift ... Only when our release from alien yoke is accompanied by deep cognizance of the great and liberating hand of God, leading to an internal experience of faiththen shall Israel sing a song of praise (Hallel). Rabbi Neria's intense disappointment and the internal contradiction he faced were expressed in a speech he delivered at the October 20, 1952 Hapoel Hamizrachi convention, as published in a special booklet (Neria, 1953). His feelings were undoubtedly shared by a vast cross-section of religious Zionist sectors. In that same address, he recounts in detail the "sins" of militant secularism during the State of Israel's first years, concluding that prima facie, the situation justified Neturei Karta's position. "We must consider ourselves in a Jewish Diasporaa harsh and bitter exileuntil the Heavens have mercy on us." Rabbi Neria was undoubtedly aware that his ideas and phraseology recalled those of the extreme anti-Zionist disciples of Rabbi Elhanan Wasserman. The only explanation Rabbi Neria could have offered for this disappointing and frustrating situation is that some Divine secret must be involved: "... among the secret things which belong unto the Lord our God." Nevertheless, the contradiction is still-present and painful. 14 Moreover, this response, which resolves the conflict between the contradictory internal religious and political-social realities, could have been voiced with the same measure of logic and justification by extremists on the other side, i.e. those who deny the State outright and consider Zionism a heretical and rebellious movement. Gloom and disillusionment with the overtly secular character of Israeli society set the scene for the "Leibowitz Debate," which culminated in the formulation of a radical solution to the problem of linking the State of Israel with the concept of "Redemption."

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In 1954, Yeshayahu Leibowitz published an anthology of articles previously published in various periodicals (primarily the monthly Beterem), entitled Torah and Religious Precepts In Our Time (Leibowitz 1951; Shai Le'Yeshayahu 1956:86100). The publication of this booklet aroused a fundamental and highly significant debate concerning questions of religion and state. We proceed to consider several of Leibowitz's major contentions: Leibowitz raised a series of problems which religious Zionism had strongly resisted addressing. In principle, all religious parties demanded that public life in the Jewish State be conducted according to Halacha. Paradoxically, as noted above, although religious Zionists were especially committed to this ideal, they avoided raising any such demands as a matter of principle or as an ultimatum before the establishment of the State, as their political and spiritual leaders lacked satisfactory Halachic responses regarding the functioning of services vital to the survival of a modern state (e.g. operation of the police, army, post office, telephone, etc. on the Sabbath). Leibowitz raised this question as a test issue: Can a modern state operate according to the current situation of Halachic rulings, especially insofar as the Sabbath is concerned? His response was negative. Leibowitz explained that Halacha had evolved within a Diaspora situation, wherein the Jews constituted a minority and relied on services provided by non-Jewish society. Moreover, the traditional Jewish conception does not recognize or relate to a sovereign Jewish state at any stage prior to the coming of the Messiah. Hence it lacks the tools and conceptual system enabling satisfactory adaptation of Halacha to the realities of a modern Jewish state and operation of its vital services. Leibowitz thus contended that it is incumbent on the Rabbinate to develop new Halachic tools and concepts. If they are not prepared to do so, then the religious public, especially the Zionist religious public, must take this initiative into its own hands. As indicated above, Leibowitz's demands were directed towards religious Zionist sectors. Leibowitz's words aroused a storm of sharp internal disputes, precisely because they were essentially correct; many people agreed with him but could not allow themselves to accept his conclusions. Leibowitz effectively demanded that religious Zionism break through the framework of Orthodox Halacha, the ties binding it to the rest of the Orthodox world. Had his demand been accepted the bond would have been severed, yet the benefits would have been dubious at best. Even Leibowith himself did not imagine that acceptance of his proposal would lead the secular community to assume the yoke of Torah. Had religious elements dared to discover ways operating the state's vital services on the Sabbath, would the secular community indeed abide by all attendant restrictions? Leibowitz's principal opponent was Rabbi Moshe Z. Neria (1954), who

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proceeded from a classical rabbinic point of departure, claiming that the Orthodox Halachic framework indeed possesses sufficient tools to provide satisfactory solutions for all problems involving normal operation of a modern society. However, use of these tools to produce well-formulated and well-defined instructions (concrete religious rulings) requires the advance consent of society to adhere to these rulings and accept their constraints. Were this not so, Halacha might be rendered vacuous and its systems would deteriorate. Thus, paradoxically, the State of Israel's secular majority enables religious Zionism and its leaders to remain within the framework of traditional Halacha and to avoid any change which might lead to a schism between it and anti-Zionist Orthodoxy. The Leibowitz Debate further exacerbated the tensions prevailing between consciousness of the State of Israel as a Jewish statethe "advent of Redemption"and the reality of a secular state, a majority of whose citizens are unwilling to run their state according to Halacha, however flexible it may be. Leibowitz proceeded to demand that the Redemptionist-Messianist dimension of the State of Israel be neutralized. From this point of view, the State of Israel is not a "Jewish state" but rather a "state of Jews." With his characteristic picturesqueness, Leibowitz claims that the State of Israel is no more than a country of Jews who were tired of living under Gentile rule. This observation obviously has far-reaching conclusions and significance: If the State of Israel has no religious value whatsoever, if it is not a part of the historical Jewish Redemption process, then its very existence need not symbolize unmediated affinity for Halacha and tradition. Consequently, one may demand separation of religion and state. The state, according to Leibowitz, is only an individual instance which expresses the egoistic desire of the Jews (legitimate in itself) not to live under non-Jewish control (Leibowitz, 1978:401404, 410, 415418). Leibowitz's solution, although simple and perhaps convenient regarding religious consciousness, was rejected by a decisive majority of observant Jews, Zionists and non-Zionists alike. Those who maintained an affinity for the tragic history of the Jewish People and the hope of Redemption found it difficult to perceive of the State of Israel as an individual instance of Jews tired of non-Jewish rule. At the other extreme of the continuum of observant Jewry is Moshe Scheinfeld (Leibowitz, 1978:2021). As noted above, Scheinfeld was among the founders of the Agudat Israel Young Guard and became a follower of Rabbi Abraham Y. Karlitz (the Hazon Ish). During the mid- 1950s, as fierce struggles took place concerning religious issuesas expressed both in the Knesset (particularly regarding the Recruitment of Women and National

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Service Laws) and in the street (primarily involving Sabbath desecration at "Sabbath Square" in Jerusalem)Scheinfeld formulated an extreme and consistent anti-Zionist position, influencing an entire generation of students then attending Orthodox yeshivas. His point of departure was based on a small Yiddish booklet, "The Footsteps of the Messiah," by Rabbi Elhanan Wasserman, which he translated into Hebrew. Scheinfeld believed that Rabbi Wasserman's words were especially significant because they provided an adequate explanation of the Holocaust. Wasserman offered his readers a historical-religious reason for the persecution of Jews in Europe, which increased primarily after the rise of the Nazis to power in Germany. Wasserman does not relate to the Holocaust itself, as his booklet was published in 1939 and he himself was murdered by the Nazis in 1941. However, according to Scheinfeld, Wasserman's approach applies to the problem of the Holocaust as well. Scheinfeld believes that the explanation of the Holocaust also necessarily explains the establishment of the State of Israel. Orthodox Jews adhering to the Agudat Israel viewpoint find the former problem more perplexing than the latter. Continuing Wasserman's line of thought Scheinfeld claims that the persecution of Jews in Europe, which culminated in the Holocaust, is the direct result of Jewish deviance from the traditional lifestyle which guaranteed its survival throughout the long Exile. Jewish attempts to blur the boundaries between Jews and Gentileswhether individually through social or cultural assimilation, or collectively via various movements of revolution and change which seek to obscure unique Jewish religious identitynecessarily led to the non-Jewish reaction of violence and persecution. Nazi oppression of Jewish apostates and their descendants who had long assimilated into non-Jewish society constitutes overt proof of this theological-historical conception. Scheinfeld augmented this theory by emphasizing Zionism's "blame" for the Holocaust, an accusation previously hinted at in Wasserman's speech before the aforementioned 1937 Great Assembly in Marienbad. Scheinfeld stressed the Zionism's virtually exclusive "guilt," extending it so far as to transform Zionism into a kind of Nazi "ally." Scheinfeld based his views on those of the Hazon Ish, who repeated the Hafetz Haim's story of a man who devoted all his wealth and energies to help one of his townsmen who had fallen into a pit, thereby earning the esteem of all who knew him, until it emerged that he was the person who had dug the pit in the first place. The Zionists are thus said to have "dug the pit" of the Holocaust into which millions of Jews fell. Moreover, Zionism as a philosophy and a political movement is guilty not only of the Holocaust but also of willful abandonment of its victims and prevention of their rescue, seeking to exploit their tragedy to recruit world support for the establishment of a Jew-

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ish state. This is the substantive connection between the sin and its consequences. Zionism has always cynically exploited Jewish Holocaust victims, most of whom were observant Jews, to establish a secular state in the Land of Israel. Scheinfeld exploited and played on the guilt and confusion which prevailed in the pre-State Jewish community in Palestine and among Zionist leaders, as manifested in the Kastner trial (June 22, 1955), relying considerably on relevant testimony and documents subsequently publicized. Scheinfeld enabled Agudat Israel members to alleviate their own frustration and guilt by pinning all blame and more on Zionism and the pre-State Jewish community. Moreover, he even made efforts to prove that the Jewish Kapos who served the Nazis in the concentration camps were selected only among the ''Enlightened" and the Zionists, whereas traditional-religious Jews were entirely free of this taint. Thus he sought to free Agudat Israel from feelings of shame over the claim that the "Exile-minded Jews" went to their deaths "as lambs to the slaughter." Zionism, according to Scheinfeld, is therefore original sin incarnate; the State of Israel was born in sin and survives in sin. The State cannot be considered the "advent of Redemption;" it would be a virtual desecration of the sacred to believe so. Rather, the State is the most extreme manifestation of Exile"an Exile among Jews." Paradoxically, there is no escape from this severest of exiles except through Redemption. Therefore, the establishment of the State of Israel is not the advent of Redemption but rather the culmination of Exile. At the same time, Scheinfeld was himself a "Zionist," as he repeatedly emphasized the intensive ties which bind all religious Jews to the Land of Israel, contrasting this attachment with what he believed to be the conditional affinity of secular Jews (after all, Herzl was prepared to substitute Uganda for Palestine ...). Immediately after World War II, Scheinfeld became even more extreme and his affinity for the Land of Israel was accompanied by severe criticism of Agudat Israel. During the 1950s and 1960s, however, virtually no such criticism was voiced. On the other hand, he distinguishes between the State of Israel and the Land of Israel: the former is a political creation which he does not identify with the concept of "Land of Israel," whereas the latter extends beyond the borders of the State and includes places of central religious significance (the Western Wall). Scheinfeld thus hints at a position widely accepted among Agudat Israel-Orthodox circles: the fact that the (pre-1967) State of Israel did not include Jewish holy places proves that it lacks religious significance (Mendelson 1983:46, 4849). Obviously, the Six-Day War marked a turning point for proponents of this view. Scheinfeld and his followers were not anti-Israel in the crude and sim-

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ple sense of the term. In a certain respect they remained patriots, perhaps even extreme patriots. One may perhaps define their stand as "Jewish patriotism:" while they reject in principle the political framework defined as the State of Israel and the ideals it represents ("Zionism"), they feel, on the other hand, a sense of responsibility for Israeli society as a Jewish society, with all its attendant ramifications. Moreover, somewhat paradoxically, this Jewish society shares the Jewish destiny andwillingly or otherwiserepresents the unique Jewish essence of the Chosen People, "a nation which dwelleth alone" facing a non-Jewish world which seeks its destruction. Consequently, Arab hatred of Israel, wars and blood-drenched conflicts, as well as Israel's political isolation, all corroborate the classic Agudat Israel view (and necessarily refute the Zionist theory) and enable full identification with Israel (as a Jewish society) and its struggle against its enemies. This view along enables comprehension of the stories and legends which appear in Agudat Israel books and periodicals concerning the miracles experienced by Israeli soldiers and especially the role of "Sages" in Israel's military victories. We cite a story of the War of Independence by Abraham Wolf, a mentor of the new generation of young Agudat Israel women. It appeared in an article relating to the issue of Israel Independence Day (5 Iyar): 15 ... Many miracles occurred. The most decisive miracle happened in Jerusalem. Dov Joseph was appointed by the government as Governor of Jerusalem. Jerusalem was completely cut off from the Coastal Plain ... Jerusalem remained without supplies and death by starvation was foreseen, Heaven forbid ... Dov Joseph decided to surrender to the Arabs, but on whom would he place the burden of blame for surrender? The Lord gave him a foolish idea. He thought that if the Ultra-Orthodox objected to the establishment of the State, they would surely agree to surrender. He asked the opinion of the late, sainted Sage, Rabbi Dushinsky, the divinely inspired leader of the Ultra-Orthodox community, and was certain that he would agree to surrender. It is unimaginable to think what would have happened had he surrendered, God forbid ... Rabbi Dushinsky: 'You didn't ask me whether you should establish a state and thereby start a war, and now you ask ... [if we should surrender]'. The rabbi also asked how much flour remained in the city and was told that there may be enough to last for another 48 hours. 'Then it is forbidden to surrender ... [ellipsis appears in originalM.F.] to the murderers. They are not victors but murderers.' A disappointed Dov Joseph declared: 'But Honored Rabbi, what will happen?' The rabbi responded with divine inspiration: "Salvation will come from the Heavens." The righteous decree and the Holy One, blessed be He, fulfills." Within 48 hours, the order came from the United Nations to cease hostilities at once ... Thus the Chief Rabbi of the Holy City

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of Jerusalem saved the city and consequently the entire Jewish community in the Land of Israel. Blessed be God who did not stay His Redeemer ... He who wrought miracles in the Land of Israel for forty years and delivered us from the hands of our enemies will continue to protect us in the future. Blessed be the Guardian of His people Israel forever. Analysis of this excerpt underscores several key aspects of the "patriotic" anti-Zionist conception. Wolf's words essentially solve the confusion which followed the Zionist military victory. Ostensibly, the Zionists were correct not only in their overall historic vision but also saved the Jewish community through their military might and heroic soldiers, most of whom, of course, were non-religious. According to Wolf, the truth is otherwise and perhaps the converse: the Zionists might have brought destruction and tragedy upon the Jews, had it not been for the Sages who brought about the miracle. Consequently, miracles play a key role the wars of Israel; they enable rejection of Zionist and Israel government victories, attributing them instead to the pious, Hasidic Rebbes and heads of yeshivas, by whose merit the miracle was performed. Regarding the issue at hand, the excerpt clearly presents Jewish patriotism on the one hand and anti-Zionism and fundamental rejection of the State of Israel on the other as complementary and mutually supportive phenomena. This basic approach had several variations, such as that of Rabbi Binyamin Mendelson of Moshav Komemiyut, formally affiliated with the Agudat Israel Young Guard. During the late 1950s and early 1960s, the Agudat Israel Young Guard organized a Nahal group (Pioneering and Fighting Youtha branch of the Israel Defense Forces) based on Komemiyut, comprising yeshiva "dropouts," seeking to minimize exposure of these soldiers to regular army life. Rabbi Mendelson, the spiritual mentor of this unit, hung a sign in the mess hall bearing the following legend: The Komemiyut Orthodox Nahal Credo I believe with perfect faith in the coming of the Messiah. Had we not sinned, but rather obeyed the great Sages of the age sixty years ago, the Messiah would already have come, without the horrendous murders which occurred because of our transgressions and failure to heed. Even if he may tarry, I await his arrival daily nonetheless. (Mendelson, 1983:37). This credo underscores Ultra-Orthodox society's virtually compulsive need to come to grips with the contradiction between the historical reli-

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gious conception to which it is bound and the reality of the Holocaust and the establishment of the State of Israel. The Holocaust was a punishment for our sins in not heeding the great Sages of the previous agea punishment which effectively continues until today. The State of Israel represents neither Redemption nor the advent of Redemption and the great sin which has prevented the coming of the Messiah is none other than Zionism! These views are only hinted at in the credo, although people familiar with Mendelson's speeches and writingsand Nahal soldiers undoubtedly heard him speak oftensurely grasped his intentions more thoroughly. Mendelson went slightly farther than Scheinfeld, claiming that the great Sages of Israel in the generation preceding the Holocaust could have brought Messiah himself without the pre-Messianic tribulations. However, because of the Zionists, who declared that "it is not God who will deliver us from Exile, but rather we ourselves will redeem the Jewish People ... the righteous could not succeed in preventing the tribulations which were tragic indeed in our own generation"the Holocaust. The Messiah would have arrived after the Holocaust, were it not for "the sinsespecially that of telling the Jewish People for sixty years to watch out for themselves, on their own, by lobbying among the nations. Many of our people, even the faithful among us, began to believe that the Redemption of Israel is to be reached by political negotiations, a goal towards which they aspired. The desired of so many Jews, which are taken into account in Heaven, thus delayed the Redemption of Israel and the coming of the Messiah." (Mendelson, 1983:4243). According to this view, we may perceive history within the framework of genuine Messianic Redemption, while considering the establishment of the State of Israel not as a positive stage in this process, but conversely as a "false Redemption," supplanting the "genuine Redemption" which should have come in its stead. Nevertheless, although the State of Israel represents a false Redemption, it is not to be considered the work of Satan; rather, it merely constitutes an expression of Jewish weakness. 16 Mention of Satan in this context recalls the prevailing views at the "right-wing" extreme of the Orthodox religious and anti-Zionist continuum, i.e. those of Neturei Karta and Satmar Hasidim. The development of the Neturei Karta group has been considered elsewhere (Friedman, 1983; FriedmanEncyclopedia Judaica), as has the history of Satmar Hasidism (Poll, 1962; Rubin, 1972). Here, we note the principal lines of thought characterizing the attitudes of these factions toward the State of Israel. Neturei Karta continues the extreme anti-Zionist tradition which characterized certain sectors of the pre-State Ashkenazic Jewish community in Palestine. Its point of departure is the secularization of the Land of Israel by the pre-

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State secular Jewish community. Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum, the Satmar Rebbe, added ideological depth to the Neturei Karta conception and shifted emphasis from the concrete, behavioristic sphere to the theoretical-theological one. According to Rabbi Teitelbaum (known as Reb Yoelish), Zionism is an overt manifestation of rebellion against God: it denies the chosenness and mission of the Jewish People, seeking earnestly to wrest the Jews from God's authority and supervision and to lead them as their own masters in the land of Israel. From Reb Yoelish's point of view, the three oaths that God swore with Israelthat Israel shall not ascend the walls, that they not rebel against the nations and that they not delay the End of Days (Babylonian Talmud, trac. Ketuboth, 111:A)are not to be considered as political tactics protecting the Jewish People from hasty action, but rather a substantive expression of God's leadership and Divine Providence over the Jewish People. Hence Reb Yoelish raises these three oaths to the level of a credo to which Jews must pledge allegiance. Declaring "I believe," in this context, is tantamount to saying "I am not a Zionist." (Teitelbaum, 1959). Hence no controversial historical reality could challenge Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum's faith in Messianic passivity and his belief that Zionism and its legitimate daughter, the State of Israel, are overt expressions of rebellion against God. Reb Yoelish could perceive nothing positive about the State, its deeds and failures, nor could he accept any recognition thereof as legitimate. One historical reality still demanded explanation, even according to Teitelbaum. The Holocaust problem could be solved by following the well-trodden paths of Rabbi Elhanan Wasserman and Moshe Scheinfeld and blaming everything on Zionism. Reb Yoelish's main dilemma was the establishment of the State and its miraculous victory, as perceived by religious laymen, rabbis and sages. In contrast Reb Yoelish perceived no manifestation of Divine Grace whatsoever at any stage in the history of the State of Israel. The only solution available to him, therefore, was to blame the confusion on Satan: ... Just as the great sins of this wretched generation have accorded us a generous measure of "the footsteps of the Messiah," so too has Satan come and dispatched his arrows (i.e. the Zionists), Heaven forfend, in a mighty attempt to thwart our Redemption and the salvation of our souls before the coming of the Messiah through these bitter sins. He approaches with guile and crafty schemes in the guise of miracles and rescue to dupe the Children of Israel into supporting the Zionists and heretics who have come to uproot the entire Torah. For never before has anyone (human being, M.E.) claimed responsibility for the salvation of Israel ... (Teitelbaum, 1967Introduction).

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Even Teitelbaum defined the period as one of "the footsteps of the Messiah," as only thus could the controversial reality attain logical dimensions. However, it is precisely this definition which enables him to explain everythingthe miracles and marvels, salvation and battle victoriesas the Devil's handiwork, as a last great attempt before the arrival of the true Messiah. Defining current history as "the footsteps of the Messiah" engenders the consummate paradoxical explanation: everything is Satan's doing. But Teitelbaum, too, was committed to Jewish collective responsibility. The State of Israel contains hundreds of thousands of Jews, for whose welfare he, like all other Jews, is responsible. Hence even when he prays for the destruction of the heretical Zionist State, he must simultaneously pray for the well-being of the Jews who dwell therein. This contradiction engenders a wide range of practical approaches to the State of Israel, especially during times of distress, which explain the differencesminor to the outsider but critical to the parties involvedbetween those who follow the teachings of Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum (e.g. the Neturei Karta) on the one hand and the Eda Haredit on the other. Details concerning these differences are beyond the scope of the present study. Finally, we note the approach which prevailed before the Six-Day War at the extreme "left" of the religious camp, i.e. that of Rabbi Zvi Yehuda Kook, son of Rabbi Abraham I. Hacohen Kook and Head of the Merkaz Harav Yeshiva in Jerusalem. In the 1953 Mizpe annual, Rabbi Z.Y. Kook published an article entitled "The State as the Embodiment of the Vision of Redemption" (Z.Y. Kook 1979), in which he claimed that a perusal of the holy books reveals details of the Redemption plan. His primary innovation is the claim that complete return to Judaism is not a pre-condition for Redemption, as was commonly believed in Jewish tradition, but rather a consequence thereof. According to Rabbi Kook, we must distinguish between two types of return: "partial return"i.e. the national (Zionist) return symbolized by the Biblical passage "... up to the Lord they God" and "complete return," meaning fulfillment of Halachic precepts in detail, as embodied in the passage "... unto the Lord thy God.'' The first type of return is a condition for Redemption and the Ingathering of the Exiles, while the second, complete return will follow subsequently. Rabbi Kook based his opinion primarily on the prophecy of Ezekiel (Chapter 36), where he found a kind of graduated Redemption process structure, beginning with the Ingathering of the Exiles. Return only comes at the final stage"If ye walk in My statutes, and keep My commandments, and do them ..." Rabbi Kook strongly upheld his opinion "that there can be an end to Exile even if Israel is thoroughly wicked, God forbid." Therefore, he writes, true Redemption is re-

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vealed "in the improvement of settlement in the land and the rebirth of Israel therein, in continuation of settlement and the Ingathering of the Exile captives." Although Rabbi Kook indeed based his opinion on the Bible, he undoubtedly took a significant step beyond accepted religious Zionist thinking. Instead of employing the intentionally vague term "advent of Redemption," whose concrete meaning in the theological sphere was never clarified, Rabbi Kook considers the State of Israel as the realization of Redemption itself, although not complete Redemption. Surprisingly, this breakthrough aroused little attention at the time, perhaps because Rabbi Zvi Yehuda Kook had not yet achieved the status of an authority to be heeded in the religious community. The Six-Day WarA Turning Point: A Messianic Approach From Rabbi Zvi Yehuda Kook's point of view, the Six-Day War represented a kind of breakthrough from the annals of Redemption to daily, routine secular life of the State of Israel. The State was unwillingly drawn into conflict with Egypt and the situation rapidly deteriorated into confrontation with the entire Arab world, while the Western powers quickly withdrew from small Israel, who stood alone. The waiting period further increased the feeling of isolation and effectively propelled the State of Israel into the historical-religious experience of the traditional Jewish world: Israel on one side and the entire world on the other 17 that very experience from which secular Zionism sought deliverance so ardently. Now, in one blow, this Diaspora experience was shattered and replaced by astounding victory and redemption. It was not the "normalcy" of secular Zionism which supplanted the feeling of Jewish isolation, but rather the renewed encounter with the Western Wall, symbolizing the experience of Jewish Redemption. One could not ignore the failure of "normal Zionism," expressed existentially during the pre-war waiting and isolation period and the post-victory, face-to-face encounter with the "alternative reality"redemption and unmediated contact with the Western Wall and the site of the Temple. The boundaries delineated after the 1948 war severed the State of Israel not only from the Western Wall but also from the historic Land of Israel, the Land of the Patriarchs, cherished as a living thing by generations upon generations of Bible-reading Jews. The State was bereft from many and perhaps most of the paths, lanes and tombs of Jewish Eretz Israel. Jews had always expressed affinity for their homeland through direct contact with these sites. This situationand especially severance from the site of the

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Templeeffectively "neutralized" the State of Israel from the more deeply religious and substantive dimension of the concept of "Redemption." It freed the various factions of the religious public from the need to cope with the religious, practical and concrete ramifications of Jewish sovereignty over the entire Land of Israel and especially the Temple Mount. It somewhat defused the prevailing contradiction between the dominance of secular Zionism and the basic religious experience of legitimate Jewish sovereignty. At the same time, it neutralized the State of Israel from the concept of the Land of Israel and all its Halachic, historical and religious-psychological ramifications. On a personal note, the author has frequently heard the following comment in conversations with friends and teachers at yeshivas which he attended (including those which did not identify with religious Zionism): It was indeed God's will that the secular Zionist State of Israel was denied control of the Temple Mount, for if it had not been so, the various factions of religious Zionism would have faced a genuine religious dilemma which could not be resolved by describing Jewish sovereignty over the State of Israel with the deliberately vague concept "advent of Redemption." The turnabout occurred on 28 Iyar 5727 (June 7, 1967), when East Jerusalem was liberated and Jewish control of the Temple Mount was secured: the State of Israel then became identical with the Land of Israel and the attendant conflicts and contradictions were now reopened. The results of the Six-Day War undoubtedly touched the very core of every religiously-conscious Jew. Even extreme anti-Zionist Jews among the Satmar Hasidim had to force themselves to exorcise the so-called "dybbuk" of Zionist redemption. 18 The historical conception of Orthodox anti-Zionist society was now even more intensely shaken: How can one comprehend the miracles, the lightning victory of the IDF against all the armies of Egypt, Syria and Jordan? How are we to understand the reality that the Holy One, Blessed be He (and who if not He?) accorded the Zionists and State of Israelwhich represents neither Redemption nor the "advent of Redemption"the entire Land of Israel, including the Temple Mount, the Tomb of the Patriarchs in Hebron and Rachel's Tomb, the true and holy Land of Israel which until now was denied from those who rebel against the Lord. The intensity of the religious experience which observant Jews underwent after the Six-Day War was perhaps even greater than that of the War of Independence. Evidence of these religious feelings may be found in two post-Six-Day War works, apparently written under the powerful influence of the authors' own experiences. The first is an article by Rabbi Haim S.P. Frank, "The Time of Judgement has Arrived" (Frank, 1968)

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and the second is the extensive book by Rabbi Menahem M. Kasher, The Great Era (Jerusalem 1972). 19 While these works contain no substantial theoretical innovation, they are significant because their authors belong to the traditional rabbinic world and not to that of religious Zionism. Both describe the Six-Day War as a miraculous experience; the war serves as their point of departure for a new look at reality. Haim S.P. Frank opens his article with the sentence: "Following the great miracles, wonders and grace which God has wrought, and restored the entire Land of Israel to Israel ..." He proceeds to declare that "we have now merited Divine Grace and have witnessed awesome deeds and great miracles in the conquest of the entire Land of Israel and the beginning of the building of Jerusalem, the Holy City. Who will not fear such a day, a time of remembrance for all the Land of Israel ..." [emphasis mineM. F.] Kasher begins his book with a description of the same experience: "We are still under the mighty influence of the past six days of war ... those days laden with glory, courage and the splendid revelations ..." The intensity of this experience demanded comprehension of the period's significance, leading the author to conclude that "ours is an era of the "advent of Redemption." As indicated above, these writings do not reflect much theoretical innovation. However, their primary appeal to the non-Zionist and anti-Zionist Orthodox camp indicates that even this sector included individuals incapable of resolving contradiction between their religious-historical conception and the political realities and the religious experience they underwent. For religious Zionists, the Six-Day War and its aftermath had a clear and unchallengeable significance: Redemption became an existential experience, another step forward from the initial "advent of Redemption"a somewhat vague term which now acquired retroactive perspicuity. Moreover, Rabbi Zvi Yehuda Kook's words of 1953 now attained a new dimension: Were not the events of the Six-Day War and the conquest of the Land of Israel decisive proof that the process of Redemption is not contingent on "return" at this stage? Furthermore, if it is indeed true that "return" will come during the last stage or just before total Redemption, are we not experiencing actual Redemption at present? If so, what is its significance in daily life? In the 1950s, Rabbi Z.Y. Kook was a rather marginal personality in the religious community, whereas by the late 1960s, he had become a kind of oracle for an entire "army" of disciples and their own students. This phenomenon reflects a dramatic change in the framework of religious Zionism: The young generation of religious Zionists which grew up in the State of Israel

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now became a central factor in shaping the country's social and religious image. Rabbi Kook played a central role in this development as a charismatic leader whose words were accepted as religious dicta among many young religious Zionists. Under these circumstances, the Gush Emunim Movement began to gather momentum among religious Zionist youth (at yeshiva high schools and "Hesder" yeshivas, for example). The history of Gush Emunim is beyond the scope of the present article (Aran, 1987). It suffices to note that this movement's activities constitute the first attempt by a religious community to determine political-religious objectives for the entire Jewish People since the beginning of the Haskala. Its objectives are largely based on belief in the validity of Rabbi Abraham I. Hacohen Kook's philosophy and acceptance of his son Zvi Yehuda as its legitimate interpreter. The approach of Rabbi Zvi Yehuda Kook and his followers has been considered in several written works, particularly Yaakov Filber's book The Morning Star (Jerusalem, 1976) and Amit Kula's article "Redemption and Return" (Kula 1985:469480). This approach may be summed up in one sentence appearing in the conclusion of Kula's article: When we ask if the nation is now undergoing a process of Redemption, the answer is unequivocal: The Jewish People are now in the midst of the Redemption process. [emphasis mineM. F.] This claim is based on considerable internal logic. If the establishment of the State of Israel was the "advent of Redemption," then one must necessarily view the Six-Day War as a substantial additional step in the Redemption process. On the other hand, if "return"i.e. the return of the Jewish People to faith in God and fulfillment of His commandmentsis deferred to the last stage of Redemption, then there are no theologial barriers to defining the current situation as the "midst of the Redemption process." How does this approach affect concrete attitudes towards the social and political reality of the State of Israel? This question raises confounding dilemmas, as daily realities in the State of Israel have not changed. Israel is a democratic country ruled by a secular majority, most of whose citizens enjoy a materialistic Western lifestyle. This paradoxical reality bears no signs of Redemption. The longer such condiions persist, the greater the contradiction. Furthermore, the definition of the State as a manifestation of redemption demands ascription of religious sanctity to the political system and branches of government, which are secular in nature. What is the significance of this sanctity and up to what point is it binding? Even more problematic is the question of

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whether attributing sanctity to an overtly secular reality does not lead to the "secularization" of Redemption. Most problematic of all is the following dilemma: The further that observant Jews perceive the State of Israel as part of the Redemption Process, the greater the tension between this perceived situation and reality and the more intense the motivation to eliminate the contradiction, whether by active anticipation of the final appearance of the Redeemer or by undertaking some unambiguous act. Those who believe that Redemption is already underway find it difficult to be patient and cope with apparent contradiction between internal convictions and everyday life. This dilemma was manifested interestingly in the activities of the "Jewish Underground," which planned to blow up the mosques on the Temple Mount. This act was intended to advance Redemption another step towards changing realities from profane to sacred. Yehuda Etzion, who originated the idea, justified and explained his intentions by contrasting Rabbi Zvi Yehuda Kook's conceptions with current realities, explaining that the paradoxical contradiction leads to a virtual impasse (Etzion, 1985). On the one hand, the conception of active Redemption propounded by the school of Rabbi A.I. Hacohen Kook now demands passive anticipation of Divine Intervention. On the other hand, it ascribes to the Western, secular democratic state in terms and conceptions of holiness and Redemption which belong to another spiritual and social world. Hence Yehuda Etzion's solution is the result of a logical and legitimate development of the conception which views the current situation as the midst of the Redemption process. Moreover, it demands solution of a basic and apparently insoluble dilemma: the contradiction between the historic religious conception and the real political situation. "The cart of Zionism," claims Etzion, "which started out long ago ... on a dead-end road, has now reached the end of its journey" as it has fulfilled its objective. From now on, there is no other way except to restore the "rightful Kingdom of Israel." The Six-Day WarA Turning Point: "The Land of Israel" vs. "The State of Israel" Traditional Ultra-Orthodox society has remained loyal to its basic anti-Zionist position. As indicated above, there were certain deviations in this camp as well following the Six-Day War. However, these were the opinions of individuals which aroused dispute but never encouraged the formation of organized groups. Moreover, impressions fostered by the Six-Day War dimmed somewhat after the 1973 Yom Kippur War. For faithful reli-

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gious Zionists, the Yom Kippur War served as a catalyst for revival of the Redemptionist conception, whereas for the anti-Zionist Orthodox, it alleviated the "burden" of the Six-Day War's wonders and miracles. Even within the relatively closed Orthodox world, the political changes which followed the Six-Day War had farreaching ramifications. The conquest of the entire Land of Israel and the introduction of Jewish sovereignty therein paradoxically freed the Orthodox from affinity for the "State," which is a modern secular concept and entity, while renewing their attachment to the "Land of Israel," as an original Jewish concept and entity. The "State of Israel," as a secular Zionist objective, is a manifestation of heresy and rebellion against God and is obviously irrelevant to "Redemption'' as a substantive religious concept. On the other hand, the "Land of Israel," under Jewish sovereigntyobservant or otherwiseis an original Jewish concept which has positive Halachic significance and is somehow part of the Redemption process. This approach explains the activities of Habad (Lubavitcher) Hasidim and the forceful demands by Lubavitcher Rebbe Menachem M. Schneerson and circles close to the Habad Movement that Israel not withdraw from the "territories," declaring it a severe violation of Halacha to relinquish any part of the Land of Israel to the Gentiles (Wolpe, 1980). One may thus negate the legitimacy of the secular "State of Israel" yet simultaneously view Jewish control over the entire Land of Israel as a positive value from a religious-Halachic point of view. Moreover, Habad Hasidim are now experiencing an increasingly Messianic atmosphere. The Rebbe himself encourages and inspires his followers towards religious-spiritual activity connected with Messianic anticipation. All Habad Hasidim are enjoined to repeat the slogan "We want Moshiach (the Messiah) now!", and to act accordingly. There are those who add the Hebrew word mamash (actually) to this slogan, as it forms an acronym of the Rebbe's name (Menahem M. Schneerson), alluding to the Rebbe as the desired and anticipated Messiah. The events of the present era, particularly the more recent ones, are undoubtedly linked substantially with this active Messianism. Hence Messianism may be partly based on Jewish sovereignty over the Land of Israel and still negate the legitimacy of the State of Israel. Contrasting with this approach is the anti-Messianic Orthodoxy based on the opinion of Rabbi Eliezer M. Schach, as cited earlier in this article. Rabbi Schach is an outstanding representative of the Orthodox school which seeks to neutralize Messianic aspects of current realities. Obviously, Rabbi Schach's views do not parallel those of Yeshayahu Leibowitz, who denies the legitimate religious Jewish content of all Messianic elements, whereas Rabbi Schach considers his opinion as a principle of faith. In the practical sphere, however, their conclusions are remarkably similar: The State of Israel is a "state of Jews" and not a "Jewish state;" the State of Is-

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rael is one solution to the problem of Jewish survival, alongside alternative solutions in the Diaspora. Rabbi Schach's basic opinion is that the Messiah has not yet come and the only legitimate definition of reality is that "the world goes on as usual." All expressions or illusions of "Redemption" or the advent of Redemption are categorically invalid [emphasis mineM.F.] and hazardous to the Jewish People ..." (Schach, 1980:40). The primary function imposed on the Jewish People and the only guarantee of its survival is Torah study: "The Torah supported us in Exile for two thousand years without a state; it constitutes security for the Jewish People." (Schach, 1980:43). 20 From the standpoint of the 1960s, more than 15 years after the end of World War II and so far from the threatening 1930s, delegitimization of the State could be demanded once again, as the State of Israel was not sufficient to ensure the physical and spiritual survival alike of the Jewish People. Rabbi Schach attacks the basis of the Zionist claim and overturns it entirely. He claims that "Exile," i.e. Jewish dispersal, is a better guarantee of Jewish survival than concentration in one territorial area: "Our dispersal was just. God did justice unto the Jewish People by scattering them among the nations. We cannot concentrate in one place. So long as the Messiah has not come there is no guarantee; we cannot know what will happen tomorrow. We must not gamble away a safe and tested situation. The Torah and its precepts have sustained us for thousands of years. Would you exchange it for something else? For what?!" (Schach, 1980:44). According to this point of view, there is no value in settling the Land of Israel except as a place of Torah study; conversely, any place in which the Torah is studied is equivalent in value to the Land of Israel (Rotter, 1982:8384).21 Rabbi Schach reminds us that the Torah itself was given to us in the desert. His view is perhaps the most extreme opinion voiced by an Orthodox rabbi and religious leader to stress the irrelevance of the Messianic dimension to contemporary Jewish survival. Furthermore, if the Torah guarantees the survival of the Jewish People, then Torah study brought about the miracles and victories of Israel's wars; the Torah sustains the state and not vice versa. This is yet another manifestation of Jewish "patriotism," i.e. assumption of responsibility for maintaining the State of Israel as a "state of Jews" and negation of it as a "Jewish state." Furthermore, the State of Israel as a "Jewish state" expresses the Zionist conception that the 'Jewish problem'' will be solved if the Jews have a sovereign state of their own"like all other nations." Rabbi Schach seeks to challenge this Zionist assumption on the basis of political realities. However, his outlook somehow fosters and perhaps demands an extreme nationalist view of the Jews facing the entire non-Jewish world. The expression "It is axiomatic for Esau to despise Jacob"22 is a permanent motif for

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Summary Rabbi Schach and his followers. We must not trust non-Jews, whose entire objective is to destroy the Jewish People. The State of Israel as a state of Jews must therefore be based on its own might. This approach constitutes the most extreme manifestation of anti-Zionist Jewish patriotism. The basic schism between religious and secular components of the Jewish People and the historical developments which rendered the Orthodox a minority created a substantial dilemma regarding contemporary upheavals, marvels and miracles. It has become impossible to return to the original, "naive," pre-crisis situation of harmony between the religious-historical view of the world and the constantly changing political situation. A vast range of "solutions" has been proposed, all of which ultimately reach a dead end. This basic theological dilemma is best summed up in the question: "What is the contemporary State of Israel?" Notes 1. See former Lubavitvcher Rebbe Shalom Dov Schneerson's dispute with Rabbi Shlomo, Aharonson, as published in the booklet And a Spring from the House of God, Brooklyn, NY, 1958, second edition, p. 47. 2. First, I recommend Yaron (1974), from whose notes a detailed bibliography may be derived. Several aspects of the problem are also considered in Friedman, 1982:87109. See also Luz, 1982:212214. 3. See Maimonides, Mishne Torah, Laws of Idol Worship, Chapter 10, Law 1. Maimonides speaks of "Jewish Epicurean (heretic) ... [who] remove the people from God." 4. The claim is attributed to Rabbi Israel Meir Hacohen (the Hafetz Haim). The story appears in a similar format, with Zionist "guilt" more blatantly expressed, in Greinman, 1954, p. 101. See also Kasher, 1972, p. 198 and Mendelson, 1983:52. 5. The speech, delivered several times, first appeared in Kol Israel of 22 Elul 5697 (1937). Shaag-Zwebner copied this speech in his book (1956, pp. 6467). With certain changes, the speech was reprinted in Hashkafatenu 4:149 (1981). We cite the Kol Israel version. 6. See above, p. 176. 7. Rosenheim prefers a Jewish-Arab federation with British cooperation. 8. "Great Sages left Agudat Israel sighing ... Clearly, they are not answering regarding the issue of the Israeli Jewish State, ..." From the painful words of Dr. Itzhak Breuer at the Agudat Israel Executive Committee meeting of February 12, 1946.

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9. See above, p. 178. 10. See also Tirosh and Tirosh (1978:2.) 11. The 1950 decision declares that one should recite "Half Hallel" without the blessing in the evening service, while the 1951 decision called for reciting full Hallel without a blessing in the morning prayer. 12. See the limited selection of counter opinions on this issue in Rackover (1973). 13. See the Prayer for the Welfare of the State of Israel, printed in "Zionist" prayer books, as well as Hapardes (monthly of the U.S. Rabbinical Alliance) 23A (1949). 14. Typical are the words of Yeshayahu Bernstein, an ideologue of Hapoel Hamizrachi: "The mind cannot tolerate the juxtaposition of the Days of the Messiah and the golden calf, even when calling it "the beginning," or "the advent of Redemption." This is the source of the confusion and puzzlement ..." Yeshayahu Bernstein, "Last as First in the Mirror of Religious Zionism" (Shai Le'yeshayahu 1956:151). 15. Hashkafatenu 4:120 (1981). The original source of this article, obviously written shortly after the War of Independence, is undetermined. 16. Elsewhere (p. 46), Mendelson writes that "the main desire of the Jews in the [DP] camps was not to be among the Gentiles any longer. They did not long for the rebuilding of the Temple as much as they yearned to be no longer among non-Jews. And the Lord God fulfilled their request and opened the gates of the Land of Israel. And they came to the Land of Israel with God's help ..." 17. According to the Midrash concerning Abraham, Bereshit Raba 42:13. 18. During the same year (1967), the Satmar Rebbe, Yoel Teitelbaum, rapidly published his essay On Redemption and Change, seeking to prevent his followers from believing in the "golden calf' of Zionist "Redemption." 19. The author completed the introduction to his book, which contains most of his ideas, on September 16, 1968. 20. From a speech delivered in 1961. 21. Rotter is an outstanding disciple of Rabbi Schach, who wrote in his introduction to the book: "All articles reflect a clear and lucid outlook in accordance with Torah rulings." Rotter attributes this claim to Rabbi Avraham Y. Karlitz (the Hazon Ish). 22. According to the Midrash, Bereshit Raba 7879. References Aloni, S. 1971. Ha'Hesder: Mimdinat Hok L'Medinat Halacha [The Arrangement: From a State of Law to a Country of Halacha], Tel-Aviv: Ott Paz. (Hebrew) Aran, G. 1987. From Religious Zionism to the Religion of Zionism. Ph.D. Dissertation, The Hebrew of Jerusalem. (Hebrew) Avigdor Hacohen, S. 1980. Yachid Be'Doro [Unique in his Generation]. Jerusalem: Keter. (Hebrew, n.p.)

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Bernstein, Y. 1956. "Acharon Ka'Rishon Be'Reyi Ha"Tzionut Ha'Datit" ["Last as First in the Mirror of Religious Zionism", p. 151. In: Shai Le'Yesha-yahu: A Jubilee Volume in Honor of Yeshayahu Wolsberg. Tel-Aviv: Ha'Poel Ha'Mizrachi Publication. (Hebrew) Elishbert, M. 1887. Shvil Ha'Zabav [The Golden Path]. Warsaw: Shuldberg Printing. (Hebrew) Etzion, Y. 1985. "Mi'Degel Yershulaim Le-Tenuat Ha-Geula," [From the Flag of Jerusalem to the Redemption Movement], Nekuda, December 20. (Hebrew) Frank, S.P. 1968. "Et Ha'Pikida Hegia" ["The Time of Remembrance Has Arrived"], Hamaayan, pp. 18. (Hebrew) Friedman, M. 1982. Society and Religion, Jerusalem: Yad Ben Zvi. (Hebrew, second edition) . 1983. "Religious-Secular Relations at the Establishment of State of Israel," In: A Shapiro (ed.) Issues in History of Zionism and the Jewish Community in Palestine, Vol. 2, Pp. 6986, The Religious Streem in Zionism, Tel-Aviv: Am Oved. (Hebrew) . 1973. "Neturei Karta" In: Encyclopaedia Judaica, Vol. 12, Jerusalem: Keter, pp. 10021003. Greinman, S. 1954. Hapetz Chaim A Ha'Tora [The Hapetz Haim on the Torah], Bnei Brak. (Hebrew) Herzog, A.I. Halevi. 1948. Hapardes, 2224A. (Hebrew) . 1957. "Gedarim Be'Din Ha'Malchut" ["Definitions on the Law of Government"], Tora U'Medina, Vol. 78, p. 9. (Hebrew) Kasher, M. 1972. Ha'Tkufa Ha'Gdola [The Great Era], Jerusalem: Torah Shlema Institute. (Hebrew) . 1973. "Madua Harbe Me'Ha'Charedim Ha'Smechim Al Kum Ha'Medina, Einam Omrim Hallel Be'Yom Ha'Atzmaut' ["Why Many Orthodox Jews Who Rejoice the Establishment of the State of Israel do not Recite 'Hallel' on Independence Day?"]. In. N. Rackover, ed. Laws of Independence and Jerusalem Days, Jerusalem, p. 178, ff. (Hebrew) Katz, R. 1952. Shaar Reuven. Jerusalem: Eretz Israel Book Publication. (Hebrew) Kook, A.I. 1904. "Afikim Ba'Negev." ["Streems in the Negev"], Ha'Peles, No. 4. (Hebrew)

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. 1941. Cbzon Ha'Geula [The Vision of Redemtion]. Jerusalem: The Society of Publication of Rabbi Kook's Writtings. (Hebrew) . 1973. Orot [Lights]. Jerusalem: Rabbi Kook Institute. (Hebrew) Kook, Z.Y. 1979. Le'Netivoth Israel [Paths of Israel], Vol. 1. Jerusalem: Menorah Publication. (Hebrew) Kula, A. 1985. "Geula U'Tshuva" ["Redemption and Repentance"], Tehumin, No. 6, pp. 469480. (Hebrew) Landa, S. Z., and Y. Rabinowitz. 1910. Or La'Yesbarim [Light Unto the Righteous]. Warsaw: M. Halter Printing. (Hebrew) Leibowitz, Y. 1951. "Ha'Shabbat Be-Medina Ke-Baaya Datit" ["The Shabbat in the State (of Israel) as a Theological Problem"], Beterem, 11/128. (Hebrew) . 1954. Tora U'Mitzvot Be'Zman Ha'Ze [Torah and Precepts in Our Time]. Tel-Aviv: Massada. (Hebrew) . 1978. Yahadut, Am Yehudi U'Medinat Israel [Judaism, the Jewish People and State of Israel]. Jerusalem: Schocken. (Hebrew) Levin, I. 1948. Chomer Le'Shealat Hitkonenut Ve'Sidur Ha'Medina Ha'Yehudit Al-Pi Ha'Torah [Contemplation on Preparing and Organizing the Jewish State According to the Torah]. New York: Research Institute for Post-War Problems of Religious Jewry. (Hebrew) Luz, E. 1982. "Tesuvat Ha'Prat U'Tesuvat Ha'Klall: Ha'-Tzionut Ha-Datit Bifnei Ha'Leumiut Ha'Hilonit" [Individual and Collective Return: Religious Zionism vs. Secular Nationalism] Molad, Vol. 41, pp. 203215. (Hebrew) Medelson, B. 1973. Kuntres Igrot Ha'rav Binyamin [A Collection of Letters of Rabbi Benjamin (Mendelson)]. Jerusalem: n.p. (Hebrew) Neria, M.Z. 1952. "Le'Kviat Ha'Hallel Be'Yom Ha'Azmaut" ["Determining the Recitation of 'Hallel' on Independence Day"] Tora Uemdina, pp. 239240. (Hebrew) . 1953. Ha'Yahaduth Ha'Datit U'Medinat Israel [Religious Jewry in the state of Israel], Tel-Aviv: Ha'Poel: Ha'Mizrachi. (Hebrew) . 1954. Kuntres Ha'Vikuach [Booklet on the DisputeLaws of the Shabbat and Laws of the State]. Tel-Aviv: Or Olam. (Hebrew) Poll, S. 1962. The Hasidic Community of Williamsburg. New York: Free Press. Prager, M. 1964. "Ve'Ele Toldot Ha'Status Quo" ["And this is the

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History of the Status Quo"] Beith Yaacov, Vol. 5, pp. 6263. (Hebrew) Rackover, N., ed. 1973. Hilchot Yom Ha'Atzmauth Ve'Yom Yerushaleim [Laws of Independence and Jerusalem Days]. Jerusalem: The Office for Religious Affairs. (Hebrew) Rotter, A. Y. 1982. Shaar Aharon. Benei Brak, n. p. (Hebrew) Rubin, I.Z. 1972. Satmar: An Island in the City. New York: Quadrangle. Schach, E.M. 1980. Michtavim U'Maamarim Meet Maran ha-Gaon Rabbi Eliezer Menachem min Schac Shalita [Letter and Articles by Our Great Rabbi Eliezer Mann Schach]. Benei Brak. n.p. (Hebrew) Sefer Shmuel. 1929. [The Book of Shmuel]. A Memorial Volume for Rabbi Shmuel Moholiver, n.p. (Hebrew) Shaag-Zwebner, I.D. 1956. Be'Shaarayech Yerushalaim [At they Gates, Oh Jerusalem], Jerusalem: Ha-Techiya Printing. (Hebrew) Shai Le'Yesbayabu. 1956. [Tribute to YeshayahuA Jubilee Volume for Yeshayahu Wolfsbert. Tel-Aviv: Ha'Poel Hamizrachi. (Hebrew) Simon, E.A. 1952. "Ha'Im Od Yehudim Anachnu?" [Are We Still Jews?"] Luach Haaretz, pp. 97129. (Hebrew. Hàaretz Yearbook) Teitelbaum, Y. 1959. "Maamar Shlosheth Ha'Shvuoth" ["Article for the Three Oaths"]. In: Sefer Va'yoel Moshe. New York: S. Deitsch Printing. (Hebrew) . 1967. Al Ha'Geula Ve'Al Ha'Temura [On Redemption and Change]. New York: Yerusulaim Publication. (Hebrew) Tirosh, Y., and A. Tirosh (eds.) 1978. Ha'Tzionut. Ha-Datit Ve'Ha'Midina [Religious Zionism and the State of Israel]. Jerusalem: Zionist World Organization. (Hebrew) Tokachinski, Y.M., p. 55. Seffer Eretz Israel [The Land of Israel Book]. Jerusalem: Levin-Ephstein. (Hebrew) . n.d. Luach Eretz Israel [The Holy Land Yearbook]. Jerusalem: Etz Chaim Yeshire. (Published Annually) U'Mayan Mi'Beit Ha'Shem. 1958 [And a Spring from the House of the God]. New York: Otzar Ha'Chassidim Library. (Hebrew, second edition) Wassermann, E. 1963. Omer Ani Maasai La'Melech [I Recount My Deeds Before the LordCollected Articles]. New York: n.p. (Hebrew)

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. 1969. Be'Ikveta De'Masicha [The Footsteps of Messia]. Jerusalem: n.p. (Hebrew) Wolpe, S.D. 1980. Daat Tora Be'Inyenei Ha'Matzav Be-Eretz Ha'Kodesh [Torah Views Regarding the Situation in the Holy Land]. Jerusalem: Makor Printing. (Hebrew) Yaron, Z. 1974. Mishnato Shel Ha'Rav Kook [The Teaching of Rabbi Kook]. Jerusalem: World Zionist Organization. (Hebrew)

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8 The Structure and Dilemmas of Israeli Pluralism Judith T. Shuval The term pluralism has been used freely by various authors with different meanings and implications suggesting ideological, political, cultural or structural designations (Gordon, 1964; Kuper and Smith, 1969; Schermerhorn, 1970; Van den Berghe, 1973). In this chapter we will formulate some general definitions of pluralism in a democratic society and spell out the conditions and constraints which are implied by such a social structure. We will then turn our attention to Israel as a specific case in an attempt to examine its structure in terms of the above notions. Conceptual Approach In the most general sense a pluralistic society may be defined as one in which there is a coexistence of several groups characterized by differing past and contemporary cultural patterns. These patterns may include elements from the full range of cultural diversity, such as differing norms, values, languages, styles of everyday life, leisure pursuits, religious observance, food patterns, styles of socialization, or any other component of a culture context. The notion of co-existence in the context of a democratic society can have a number of implications and varies from society to society. As a minimum definition we suggest that such pluralism implies that co-existence is legitimized either formally or informally, so that groups with variant cultural forms are generally accepted and are able to live in accordance with their unique cultural patterns. In order for such groups to be part of an ongoing social system, there must exist a consensual cultural component which is common to the above

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groups and which provides them with cross-cutting, jointly held sets of norms and values. Indeed, it is the nature of the ongoing relationship between this common cultural component and the several idiosyncratic cultural contexts, which are unique to each group that determines the dynamics and quality of social processes in a pluralistic society. Considering this general definition in greater detail, we may distinguish several structural features of pluralistic societies. Dimensions of Differentiation Societies may be differentiated in terms of different dimensions. Among the more familiar examples, several of which have their origins in migration from a specific culture context, are: tribal or ethnic traditions based on the recent or distant past, religious traditions, national origins, and racial characteristics. But these are not the only possible dimensions of differentiation. Each dimension includes two or more categories which define specific groups. The structural dimensions may, in some cases, be related to each otheras in the case of ethnic groups having a religious tradition in common. Group Identity A pluralistic structure may be institutionalized or informal. In the former case, separation of groups is unambiguously defined and legitimized. It involves institutionalized mechanisms designed to deal with specific life areas in which the groups are deemed to have differing needs and desires, e.g. schools, religious facilities, formally structured representation in the political system. In the case of informal structuring, group identity is a function of patterns of solidarity among group members and of identification and labelling of that group by others. But separateness is not formally recognized. While informal patterns are likely to accompany an institutionalized structure of pluralism, an informal type of pluralism may occur with no formal structure. In addition to the difference between institutionalized and informal separateness, we may distinguish the subjective from the objective category of identification (Ben-Rafael, 1980). The first refers to feelings of identity, solidarity and separateness felt by members of the group themselves. How conscious and aware are they of their group identity? How do they view this identity in qualitative termsin positive, neutral or negative terms? To what extent do they express such feelings? The objective category of identification concerns the visibility of the group to other members of the society and its categorization by others: is

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it recognized as a relevant collectivity in the overall social system? Are its members categorized in terms of their group membership? And, in a complementary sense to the qualitative element noted, what is the label imputed by others to the grouppositive, neutral or negative? The interaction of subjective and objective identification determines the overall salience of a given group in a society. Clearly, such salience differs among groups and generally changes over time. One may recall the change in the meaning of ethnic membership over time in the U.S. as described by Glaser and Moynihan (1970): Immigrant groups shifted from collectivities with distinguishing cultural characteristics into ethnically structured interest groups concerned principally with political and economic issues. One correlate of both subjective and objective identification is the extent to which a group is concentrated in a specific geographical or social position in the society. Regional concentration of group members or their location in a specific socio-economic position, promotes interaction among them with a concomitant sense of identity. Furthermore, it increases the group's visibility for others. Power and Conflict There is a certain inevitability of ranking in terms of status and power among groups defined by any dimension of pluralism. This ranking is expressed, at least partially, by the distribution of group members on the socioeconomic scale or in space, which always carries symbolic significance. Whatever the reasons for this distributiondeliberate planning, historic factors, traditions, self choice, prejudice, discrimination, skills and aptitudes of group membersgroups differ in terms of their access to rewards and power. But the extent of homogeneity and segregation in this regard vary within and between societies. Ranking implies that conflict is a potential in pluralistic societies and mechanisms are needed to control it if social stability is to be maintained (LeVine and Campbell, 1972). Groups are frequently characterized by competing interests and generally are unequal with regard to status, power and closeness to decision makers. Thus, conflict, either overt or covert, may focus on access to various forms of resources and rewards. There is an inevitable tendency for the stronger group or groups to seek domination. Pluralistic societies in the democratic tradition try to develop mechanisms to control this process with varying degrees of success. In the extreme case, when such mechanisms fail, full domination by one group may be viewed as a negation of democratic pluralism or as a situation in which only lip service is paid to this notion.

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If a variety of groups are to have a viable existence and access to power and resources, the control mechanisms assuring those conditions need to be political, representational, and anchored in binding legal formulas, e.g. a constitution, a bill of rights, or their equivalent. But an additional and important mechanism of control is the consensual legitimation for the existence of different groups. The value reflecting such consensus is tolerance, i.e. the general acceptance of alternative forms of cultural expression by such groups. Such consensus does not prevent conflict but it can exercise some control with respect to domination by a given group or groups. It also makes possible the establishment or entry of new groups into a pluralistic social structure, e.g. a new group of immigrants, a new religious sect. But consensus can hardly be effective without legal and political mechanisms to support it. Consensus and DiversityConditions for Stability As noted, a pluralistic society is one in which the overall cultural context includes a) a common component, b) several idiosyncratic components. The dynamic relationship between these two sets of components is at the heart of the issue under discussion. In fact it relates to the extent of conflict or stability in a pluralistic society. By definition the common component includes norms and values on which there is general consensus, cross-cutting different groups; the broader the span and content of these values and the greater their salience to all, the greater the overall solidarity of the society. And, conversely, if these consensual values and norms are few or marginal in their importance, the overall cohesiveness of the society is likely to be weak. Indeed, it would seem that a sine qua non for any social system is consensus on certain central and fundamental values. But this consensual component may assume a variety of forms which structure in terms of the coverage and strength of adherence to the values and norms included. Thus, it may include a large number of norms and values which are weakly adhered to but which form a thin, broad basis for consensus. Or it may focus on few values to which adherence is tenacious. Other logical combinations of strong and weak adherence to various norms are also possible. These patterns provide different types of consensus at times of social crisis and stability. They also induce different potentials for social change. When we speak of across-the-board consensus on the common cultural component, some specific groups in the society may not be included. If these are small, insulated or seen as temporary, they may not disturb the

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overall social system, but in general, non-acceptance of important elements of the consensual component may be viewed as a potential source of social change or conflict. There is a dynamic quality to the balance of common and idiosyncratic values and norms; those which have been idiosyncratic for a given period may move into the consensual area if they come to be accepted by all. Conversely, values on which there has been general agreement may, at a given point in time, be given different interpretations and meanings by specific groups in such a way as to move them out of the consensual area into a specific cultural context. Alternative interpretations of a commonly held central value by specific groupseven if the remaining groups continue to hold it in commoncan be an important source of conflict and instability, depending on the size and importance of this specific group in the society. In a democratic, pluralistic society as defined here, one element of the consensual cultural component is the legitimation of specific alternative subcultures. We have noted this in defining pluralism in a democratic society. But an important condition of that legitimation is that the values of the subgroups do not directly contradict the commonly held values. There can be an acceptable range of variation in the interpretation of a consensual value but if that variation in the interpretation of a consensual value becomes too broad, the value ceases to be consensual and moves to the idiosyncratic context. There is often a delicate balance and some disagreement among groups as to which values are central and need to be defined as part of the consensual component. As long as the idiosyncratic cultures focus mainly on such apparently non-threatening subjects as culinary tastes, second languages, folk-lore or holidays and religious rituals there would appear to be a basis for peaceful coexistence. But some of the above, when linked to other economic and social issues, have in certain societies, become rallying grounds to challenge central values. A sure recipe for instability occurs when the common cultural component is emasculated by removing major values from it and shifting them into the idiosyncratic cultures, thus giving them a variety of categories viewed as legitimate alternatives. Such emasculation of the consensual component can reduce the latter's content to meaningless, platitudinous values, about which people care very little, or to which they rally only at moments of societal crisis. Another formula for instability is, of course, the dominance of one group which injects its unique values into the consensual component and demands general conformity. While some inequality in power and access to rewards is probably inevitable in a pluralistic society, the use of power to inject an idiosyncratic value held by a specific group into the consensual

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component is problematic since conformity then becomes coercive for many. It is especially disruptive when other groups of a less powerful stature adhere strongly to different values. Indeed, such a process violates one of the conditions for pluralistic stability noted above. Pluralism in Israel What are the central dimensions of pluralism in Israeli society? How do they structure? What processes of change are taking place in this area? What can be said with regard to the stability of the pluralistic structure? (Smooha, 1978.) We will attempt to spell out some answers to these questions in the context of a society characterized by basic democratic traditions. Israel is differentiated in terms of three principal dimensions which define its pluralistic structure: ethnicity, defined in the Jewish population in terms of country of origin of an individual or his parents and grandparents; religion; and the Arab-Jewish dimension. Each of these structures differently in the society but they have in common their differentiating role of separating the society into co-existing sub-groups with specific cultural traditions and ways of life. In some cases the differentiating lines overlap. Ethnicity A large amount of research has been focused on ethnicity and ethnic relations in Israel over the past 40 years (Ben Rafael, 1982; Krausz, 1980; Schwarzwald and Amir, 1984; Smooha, 1978, 1984; Weingrad, 1985). Indeed, the notion of pluralism has in many cases been interpreted in terms of ethnic diversity. This paper is not viewed as part of that tradition and we will not attempt to summarize the rich findings in this area. The present effort is to consider ethnicity in terms of the more general issues of pluralism posed above. Reference will be made to gross categorization of the Jewish population into Asian-African and European-American segments; these categories have been widely used not least because they have been clearly defined in the publications of the Central Bureau of Statistics on which some of the data on ethnic relations is based. More specific groups within each of these general categories will also be referred to. In some cases we will refer to Sephardim and Ashkenazim which in most useages refer to more loosely defined social groups, equivalent to Jews of Oriental and Occidental origin respectively. The American debate concerning the nature of social processes characterizing a culturally heterogenous society (Glazer and Moynihan, 1970; Gordon, 1964; Zangwill, 1909) was taken up quite early in Israel. Discussions

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concerning a melting pot versus ethnic pluralism did not focus directly on the issues of consensual and specific cultural components of the society. However, there was talk in the 1950s of the new Israeli who would emerge from the diversified ethnic mélange and some expectation that ethnic groups would quickly fade away. But it was soon realized that this process was far from a rapid or automatic one and that the integration process was slow, tortuous and frequently painful (Ben-Rafael, 1982; Krausz, 1980). It has been noted that the ethnic sub-cultures imported from a wide variety of countries of origin, were generally not perceived by the respective immigrant groups as valuable legacies which were worthy of preservation in the new society. This is true of both Asian-African and European groups. Traditional religious rituals, food patterns, and family structure were maintained more out of custom, habit and familiarity, than out of a conscious desire to preserve these unique patterns. Indeed, most immigrants sought to become Israelis and to shed their ethnic label. However, the new society did not always make it easy to drop such labels and in many cases these carried invidious stereotypes and acquired status-linked images. The consensual component taken over from the pre-state period was formulated in terms of the historic Zionist ideology. It offered the diverse new immigrant groups such value-oriented concepts as Jewish nation building, ingathering of the exiles, democratic-socialist values, and the realization of a religious or tradition-based aspiration to return to the perceived ancient homeland. In addition, Western-based values concerning achievement, social mobility, careerism and material goals, were also apart of the consensual component, and increasingly became part of the Israeli way of life. These were somewhat differently interpreted by various ethnic groups but major elements were nevertheless widely accepted from 1948 and on; they served as major integrating forces in the development of the society. The principal mechanisms to communicate and reinforce the consensual component were a common language, the schools, universal military service, and the media. In addition, a common enemy, intermittent war and threats of terrorism, provided reinforcement for a general sense of identification with the society. Visible models of success in the society were perceived as those who accepted and behaved in accordance with Western-based values. Looking back today, it may be said that the consensual component offered to the culturally heterogenous population from the very establishment of the Stateand probably before that as wellwas culturally biased by specific East European cultural traditions. The nature of the leadership and its assumptions concerning its own cultural superiority to the more ''primitive" ethnic groups from the Asian-African countries, re-

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sulted in an ethnocentric style of becoming "Israeli." One does not need to assume that a deliberate, exploitative conspiracy was behind this process in order to recognize that the so-called process of "Ashkenazation" was viewed by allincluding Asian-African themselvesas the appropriate mechanism for ethnic groups to enter the society and be accepted by it (Shuval, 1956, 1962). This process was accompanied by stereotyping and prejudice as well as no small amount of self-rejection by various groups among the Asian-Africans (Amir, et. al., 1978; Schwarzward and Cohen, 1982; Shuval, 1966). There was undoubtedly a denigration of traditional cultures by many in the society with invidious repercussions in the school curricula, textbooks (Stahl, 1984) and in the media. Ethnic separatism has never been institutionalized in Israeli society. Quite the contrary: the ideology concerning the in-gathering of the exiles emphasized a collective identity, rather than particularistic solidarity. Consensual legitimation of ethnic diversity focused from the early years of the State on diverse religious rituals, food and leisure patterns, family structure and folkloric expressions. While some, including many of the younger immigrants from Asian-African countries, may have viewed such patterns as quaint relics from the past, there was no overt objection to their preservation when so desiredgenerally by older persons in the ethnic groups. Over the years there have been some deliberate efforts to encourage such preservation, especially in folklore, dance and music. But, on the whole, the diverse ethnic groups themselves made little conscious effort to retain traditional patterns of their ethnic culture. Anthropological research indicates that several such groups have shown viability of their idiosyncratic cultural traditions but have adapted them functionally over time to changing needs (Deshen, 1979; Shokeid, 1971; Goldberg, 1977). It is of some significance that there has been little evidence for the presentation of norms or values which offer real competition or direct conflict with consensual ones. Traditional, idiosyncratic cultures have continued to focus on ritual, folklore, leisure activities, culinary patterns, music preferences, and styles of entertainmentall areas that are generally viewed as legitimate alternative cultural expressions which coexist with relative stability. Nor is there evidence in Israel of any recent active assertion of ethnic identity along the lines seen in other countries, e.g. "Black is Beautiful" (Gans, 1979; Smith, 1981; Yancy, et. al., 1976). What is of course most striking is the acceptance by virtually all immigrant groups regardless of their ethnic origin of the process of 'Ashkenazation" as the legitmate mode of becoming Israeli. As noted, there was little active concern on the part of most immigrants from Asian-African countries and certainly among the younger ones, to preserve their traditional cultures. While there has been resentment of low status and implied "primi-

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tiveness" there has been little effort since the 1950s and 1960s to retain ethnic traditions in a manner that would offer a real alternative to the European-tinged offering of Israeli culture. And over the years "Ashkenazation" became synonymous with modernization. Inter-marriage between persons of differing ethnic backgrounds increased over time, reaching about 20% in the late 1970s, and consumption patterns have tended to become more and more homogeneous in the various ethnic groups, which results in a certain diffusion of unique ethnic traditions. Although it is not as rapid as many would wish, there is evidence of real social mobility (Peres and Schrift, 1978). However, the linkage of ethnicity to socio-economic status which originally was a function of immigrants' background and experience in their countries of origin resulted in a rank ordering of ethnic groups in the society which persists with invidious results to this today (Smooha, 1978, 1984). The geographical distribution of immigrants which concentrated those of Asian-African origin in peripheral development towns also contributed to the stereotyping process and differential out-migration over the years has reinforced that stereotype (Hasson, 1981; Spilerman and Habib, 1984). Efforts to upgrade the educational level of youngsters from deprived Asian-African families have been only partially successful (Schwarzwald and Amir, 1984). It has frequently been noted that, despite the location of persons of Asian-African origin toward the lower range of the socio-economic scale and their relatively high concentration in deprived residential areas, there has been no ethnic political party in Israel (with the exception of Tami, a small party founded in 1981) and the Asian-African vote has shifted over the years in terms of real interest and felt need for protest (Arian, 1972; Herzog, 1984; Lissak, 1972; Peres and Shemer, 1984). Partly this is a result of cooptation of ethnic leadership into the existing party structures which have carefully allotted slots to ethnic representatives probably in an effort to stem or deflate independent ethnic activity. Such groups as the Black Panthers and Ohalim (deprived neighborhood protest movements) have been ephemeral and have not swept major segments of Asian-African support. While the Likud party has wide support among Asian-African voters, it is still unclear how persistent this phenomenon will be in the long run. Excessive "Ashkenazation" has nevertheless left a not insignificant residue of resentment and alienation among segments of the Asian-African population. Economic cutbacks in the 1980s accompanied by growing unemployment have been felt disproportionately by such groups because of their concentration in vulnerable, lower socio-economic strata and in development towns. The sense of deprivation and alienation which has ac-

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cumulated over the years has been channelled more and more into the political sphere. The ethnic dimension of pluralism which has its origins in the cultural diversity of a variety of immigrant groups has come to focus on the political system which serves as a vehicle for the expression of ethnic needs. Observation of the political scene in the late 1970s and 1980s indicates increasingly homogeneous ethnic constituencies of existing political parties on both the local and national levels. This phenomenon may be viewed as an expression of protest by major segments of the Asian-African population and as an attempt by them to gain access to power and resources through political mechanisms. While there are still no major political parties which are formally ethnic in their identity, voters tend to express their ethnic identification in the political power contexts. Viewed in terms of the pluralistic structure defined above, it may be said that the ethnic groups and specifically the Asian-Africans among them have focused their attention on bread and butter issues of power and resource allocation rather than on issues of preserving their traditional cultural patterns. The latter are seen as marginal and decorative while the real issues are unemployment, deprivation, equal opportunity for jobs and leadership, and full participation in the power game. This trend has been fanned or exploited by political interest groups in order to generate voter support. To some extent this process may be viewed as a result of mistakes made over the past 35 years which generated resentment and a sense of deprivation. Ethnic issues were perceived more in decorative, folkloric terms than in terms of economic opportunity and full participation in the critical decision-making processes. Whether these errors were made deliberately or out of ignorance does not seem to be of central relevance today. This political focus which characterizes the ethnic dimension of pluralism in recent years heightens the visibility of ethnicity but cannot be viewed as a fundamental threat to the democratic underpinnings of the society. Furthermore it would seem to fall within the general framework of democratic pluralism. At the same time, it is important to reiterate that a major priority for the society is to disengage ethnicity from its socioeconomic correlate. Despite progress in this area this goal is far from having been achieved, and its complicated nature requires increased efforts. Religion The religious dimension of pluralism cuts along several lines, differentiating sub-groups within the Jewish community but also differentiating the

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total population into a variety of Jewish and non-Jewish groups. The discussion here focuses on the Jewish segment of the population. As in the ethnic dimension of pluralism, the level of generality or specificity of categorization must be considered since both have social meaning. One may analyze the religious dimension in terms of a dichotomous division (secular-observant), but each of these general categories includes institutionalized and non-institutionalized varieties of sub-groups. Some of the latter are not easily identifiable as anyone will attest who has tried to categorize a population in Israel in terms of self-definitions of religiosity. As in the ethnic case, the level of specificity of a definition used needs to be adapted to the issue under discussion and no one system of categorization is inherently good or bad. Less research has focused on the religious than on the ethnic dimension of pluralism in Israeli society (Smooha, 1978). This dimension differs from the ethnic in its institutionalization of separatism, e.g. schools, courts. Furthermore, important segments of kibbutz and moshav settlements as well as urban residential areas are populated in terms of religious-secular categories. Among the former there are further separatist distinctions by type of orthodoxy. In addition to its institutionalized structure, the religious dimension of pluralism is characterized by two further differences from the ethnic dimension: its strong and clear linkage to the political structure and its own preference, in some cases insistence, for separatism. Both of these are relevant to the dynamics of this dimension in Israeli society. Religious political parties are an old tradition in Israel, pre-dating the State by many years. This is not the place to analyze the history of the phenomenon, but simply to indicate that in a democratic context, formal political structures legitimize bargaining or "horse trading" in the attainment of special interests. The fact that they have always been needed as part of a viable government coalition has heightened the bargaining potential of the religious political parties out of all proportion to the size of their voting constituencies. But stability in this area was attained in the early period of statehood by means of the religious "status quo" which prevailed during the first thirty years and was generally accepted by most Israelis, secular as well as religious, as part of the consensual component of the culture. While some complained about restrictions of transportation on the Sabbath and rabbinical control of marriage, divorce and burial, others complained that more orthodoxy was needed. However, the religious dimension of pluralism attained a certain stability over the years and was characterized by widespread acceptance by broad segments of the population. But after 1977 when it became evident that the religious status quo was

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in fact changeable and open to negotiation, and that the coalition partners were prepared to pay handsomely for support, the religious parties, especially the small extremist groups, could exploit their bargaining power to squeeze religious concessions from their would-be partners. In the early 1980s the tenuous coalition structure has been such as to maximize the power of small religious extremists to utilize their bargaining position to seek to attain goals they have long sought but have been unable to achieve: abolishing football on the Sabbath, closing streets, preventing or delaying summer-time, changing the Law of Return, etc. Religious expansionism beyond the status quo is perceived as threatening by many Israelis who are unwilling to accept an increase in the scope of religious control of their lives. In the terms used in this paper such expansionism may be viewed as a reduction in the consensual component with coercive conformity to religious regulations promulgated by small, specific sub-groups of the population. As noted, many of the demands for increased expansion come from small extremist groups among the orthodox; but as in many such political situations, the more moderate among the orthodox have been reluctant to appear too soft or "liberal" and have allowed themselves to be carried along by the extremists. Furthermore, and somewhat paradoxically, many in the secular segments of the population are reluctant to oppose religious expansion because of nostalgic sympathies for orthodoxy, best expressed by the phrase, "the synagogue I do not pray in is an orthodox one." But there is also informal evidence for growing anti-religious prejudice and increased unwillingness among secular Israelis to tolerate what is perceived as expansionism of the orthodox. Separatism in schools and in residential areas is desired by many in the orthodox segment of the society and is insisted on by significant groups. The preference for separatism is shared by many secular persons as well. In this regard, the difference from the ethnic dimension of pluralism is dramatic. In fact some ethnic groups live in homogeneous residential areas because of early settlement policies or as a result of differential internal migration patterns (Hasson, 1981; Spilerman and Habib, 1976). But in general there is little preference or demand for such separatism. De facto separatism in the schools is rejected by the education authorities and by most persons of AsianAfrican origin even though some middle-class Europeans desire it. However, the nature of religious pluralism is such that many religious groups feel uncomfortable and unable to carry out their religious-cultural traditions in mixed (religious-secular) social contexts. Indeed, the more extreme groups decry and prohibit contact of adults or children with secular Is-

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raelis. An orthodox settler on the West Bank formulated this feeling dramatically: "Looking out of the window of my home with a telescope I do not want to see violations of the Sabbath." Such preferred separatism is expressed in fact by the building of separate housing in segregated religious neighborhoods and in efforts by extremist groups to prevent the entry of secular persons or to harass secular residents when a residential area is viewed as "belonging" to a religious group. Physical and social separation reinforce the unique cultural component of various religious groups as well as of the secular population. Many people, especially children, have virtually no contact or acquaintance with persons of different religious views. Separatism is strengthened by legitimation of rejection of military service by the extremist religious groups. As noted, military service has always been a major mechanism geared to reinforce the consensual component of the culture. Non-participation not only strengthens the particularistic identification of the groups which do not serve, but heightens resentment and the sense of separatism of those who do. The fact that among women exemption for alleged religious reasons includes many who are not in fact religious, heightens this resentment. We have noted that a major threat to the stability of a pluralistic structure occurs when the consensual component does not include a norm providing legitimation for specific cultural alternatives along a given dimension. Another way of stating this is that such a threat occurs when a specific group with a given cultural tradition claims exclusivity or dominancethus de-legitimizing alternative groups. While there has been general consensus with regard to the legitimacy of a gross orthodox-secular dichotomy, the former group do not accept other forms of Jewish religious expression as legitimate alternatives. The position of power and monopoly they have attained has enabled them to prevent equal status for the Conservative and Reform branches of Judaism, despite the claims of these groups for equality. A recent formulation by an orthodox extremist stated the case in no uncertain terms: "There are only two existing positionsthe correct orthodox one and all others which are wrong" (Ma'ariv, May 25th, 1986, p. 17). Indeed, major efforts are invested by orthodox groups to de-legitimize these alternative groups. Recurrent efforts to amend the Law of Return are the most recent examples of this approach which can be viewed as the antithesis of pluralism as defined here. The paradox referred to above, in terms of which many in the non-orthodox segments of the society adhere to non-practising nostalgic orthodoxy, provides silent support and tolerance for this de-legitimizing process.

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With regard to the religious dimension of pluralism we may therefore conclude that the form it has taken in the recent past and seems to be taking now violates certain basic premises of a pluralistic society as defined here; this is seen in growing particularism through separatism that weakens the consensual component as well as growing demands for dominance and control by one group such as to de-legitimize others. Arab-Jewish The third dimension of pluralism structures in terms of the Arab-Jewish dichotomy. Separation is institutionalized in several areas and informal contact between groups is minimal. The Arab-Israeli conflict and intermittent guerrilla warfare provide an uneasy background to this dimension of pluralism which inevitably engenders a measure of suspicion and anxiety on both sides. In the past there has been widespread consensus with regard to the legitimacy of co-existence of the two communities and acceptanceeven if reluctant in some casesof the need for such coexistence. Physical and social separatism have made this more or less tenable. Civil rights of the Arab community in Israel are formally recognized although not always observed. While a general undercurrent of hostility has pervaded both communities, it has been intermittently overt and covert with varying degrees of intensity in response to specific events. Periodic acts of terrorism fan the underlying feeling and reinforce external expressions of hostility. A separatist structure has made a modicum of coexistence possible. The rise of Kahanism and Jewish religious fanaticism with their overt rejection of the above values is a direct challenge to this consensus. While the groups holding such views are small and are viewed by some as marginal, surveys in the secondary schools and in other parts of the population suggest that the views expressed overtly by these groups are more widely held and could be increasing in coverage and intensity, especially in the wake of the West Bank disturbances in 1988. Deliberate prohibition by extremist leaders of informal contact between Jewish and Arab youngsters in school contexts might result in a growth in mutual hostility. The civil revolts on the West Bank and among Israeli Arabs in 1988 have dramatized this issue and have made clear the inherent connection of the internal Arab-Jewish dimension of pluralism in the broader political context. Failure to address the Palestinian issue in its overall context makes a viable modus vivendi between Jews and Arabs within Israel extremely difficult.

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Interaction Among the Three Dimensions of Israeli Pluralism For analytic purposes we have distinguished in the above presentation among the three principal dimensions of Israeli pluralism and have discussed each separately. Needless to say there is some artificiality in such a separation and their joint relationships need to be considered. Indeed these dimensions interact with each other in a manner that frequently sharpens the problematics of the situations we have described. Some examples of this interaction will be considered below. The religious and Arab-Jewish dimensions interact through certain religious values and ideological tenets which serve to focus hostility of Jews on Arabs. Religious legitimation has been used to justify aggression and violence toward the Arab population; labeling by groups of Jewish Orthodox nationalists of Arabs as "Amalek" (an ancient people viewed by certain groups of the orthodox as traditional, eternal enemies of the Jewish people), provides unconditional legitimation for violence against them. This labeling, which is meaningful to certain extremists, makes hatred of Arabs and hostility against them acceptable, even desirable, for those who accept such definitions. However small the latter group, its impact in terms of the normative climate of the society is not negligible. Another example of interaction between the same two dimensions of pluralism may be seen in the religious-historic legitimation of Jewish rights to settlement in all parts of the so-called "Land of Israel," a claim which has also contributed to ongoing hostility between Jews and Arabs. The semimystical, ideological legitimation for such settlement is based less on political-strategic notions than on religious-historical values which have been used by these groups to justify the location of Jewish settlements and the activation of religious sites in areas populated primarily by Arabs. An additional example points up the interaction between the ethnic and Arab-Jewish dimensions of Israeli pluralism. Those segments of the Jewish population which immigrated to Israel from a variety of Arab countries frequently harbor an under-current of hostility toward Arabs which has its origins in fears and bitter experience in those societies. In many cases these feelings and attitudes have been transmitted to their Israeli-born children by the usual informal mechanisms of socialization. Broad segments of the Jewish populations of Asian-African origin are thus characterized by deep fears and latent aggression toward Arabs which may be restrained in the large part but which tend to become manifest in response to periodic acts of Arab terror, when they emerge in the form of violence often of an uncontrolled, hysterical variety. A striking case of the interaction between the ethnic and religious dimen-

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sions of pluralism occurred in the fall of 1986, when the orthodox, Sephardi rabbi of Baaka, a neighborhood of Jerusalem, led a group of his followers into a newly established Reform synagogue during a holiday service in an attempt to disrupt the ritual and forceably remove the Torah scroll on the grounds that the ritual was improper and, more specifically, that "inappropriately" dressed women were participating. On the level described, this is only an additional incident exemplifying the problematics of religious pluralism discussed earlier in this paper. The dramatic nature of the case is reflected in the subsequent comment on it by the Chief Sephardi rabbi who stated on the radio (on October 26th, 1986) that "there is no freedom of worship for Jews in Israel since only the Orthodox form of religion is legitimate." But several observers have noted that the fact that the Sephardi rabbi was the initiator of the incident links it to the ethnic dimension of pluralism, especially since the Sephardim have generally not identified with extremist groups among the orthodox. This observation is based on the social and demographic changes that have occurred in Baaka in recent years. A process of "gentrification" has been taking place with the influx of noticeable numbers of relatively affluent persons, largely of European origin, who have invested considerable sums in modernizing and beautifying run-down homes in the area. This new, middle class, generally professional group contrasts with the less affluent veteran population, largely of Sephardi origin, who have lived in Baaka since the early 1950s. The Reform congregation is composed almost entirely of relatively recent immigrants from Englishspeaking countries who symbolize the affluence (although many are young, and far from well-to-do) and strangeness of the newcomers to the community. Viewed from this point of view, the religious incident carries apparent overtones, never explicitly stated, of ethnic and class conflict that go beyond the issue of religious pluralism. The above are only some examples of the inter-relationships among the different dimensions of pluralism. Our goal is not to catalogue them but rather to indicate that the three dimensions do not function in isolation from each other. Conclusion Pluralism in a democratic society has been considered in terms of two types of cultural components: consensual and specific. The nature of a pluralistic society is a function of the dynamic relation between the two. We have suggested some definitions and have spelled out the principal factors conditioning the nature of this relationship: consensual adherence to a broadly based set of central values over and above particularistic ones; prevention of dominance by one group by means of political-representational

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or constitutional, legally-based mechanisms; consensual legitimation for the existence of specific groups; consensus on life areas in which alternative cultural forms are acceptable; non-inclusion in specific cultures of values in direct conflict with the consensual values. Without these conditions stability in a democratic, pluralistic society is problematic and disruptive conflict of an overt sort is likely. In considering the Israeli case three dimensions of differentiation are salient. Israeli pluralism structures in terms of ethnicity, religion, and the Arab-Jewish dichotomy. The ethnic dimension of pluralism, which initially was structured in terms of the cultural diversity of immigrant groups, has focused relatively little on the preservation of these cultural traditions, principally because most immigrants have been less interested in such preservation than in attaining an Israeli identity without an ethnic label. The historic reality, however, has been that such labels were not always removable and in fact were retained, in some cases with invidious implications. Ethnic origin has continued to be linked with social and socio-economic status. Although there has been important change over time in virtually all measures of achievement in education and in the economic sphere, persons of Asian-African background are still more deprived than persons of European-American origins. Evidence of prejudiced attitudes among the latter and self-rejection among the former indicate that the salience of ethnicity remains even though differences between ethnic groups are diminishing through intermarriage and growing homogenization in patterns of consumption. Geographical concentrations of Asian-Africans in development towns where unemployment is relatively high as well as a general sense of relative deprivation among segments of this population have kept the ethnic dimension of pluralism salient despite efforts to reduce the social gap. In recent years, especially since 1977, there has been increased ethnic differentiation expressed in the political sphere. Election patterns indicate ethnic concentrations of voters in support of specific existing political parties, e.g. voters of Asian-African origin heavily support the Likud. Ethnic identity is thus expressed to some extent through the polls. Needless to say this process is recognized and reinforced by the parties themselves which seek to attract the ethnic vote by highlighting appropriate themes and electoral promises. If there should be increased economic recession accompanied by growing unemployment, it is not impossible that conflict could erupt along ethnic lines. But it is our feeling that such phenomena would be ephemeral since the consensual component generally cuts across ethnic lines and alienation in deprived sub-groups is generally not that extreme. The politicization of ethnicity in no way negates the basic premises of

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democratic pluralism. It does however reflect a social context in which a sense of deprivation and the consequent need for protest are a reflection of inappropriate ways of handling ethnically diverse populations since the founding of the State. The present crisis in Israeli pluralism focuses on the religious and Arab-Jewish dimensions. We have pointed to challenges from specific groups to the consensual component and to violations in certain of the basic conditions noted for democratic pluralism. With regard to the religious dimension: there is an attenuation of the consensual component with growing particularistic separatism. Specific groups have adopted values in direct conflict with consensual values; there is a delegitimation of the existence of specific groups defined by these dimensions of pluralism and an absence of legal guarantees for the existence of certain sub-groups. Conflict has already erupted in terms of these dimensions and it would seem that the potential for additional future conflict is not negligible. The Arab-Jewish dimension of pluralism structures against a background of broader political conflict. The civil rebellion on the West Bank and Gaza Strip have dramatized this problem and have made clear once again that a resolution of the Palestinian problem is a sine qua non for an acceptable modus vivendi between Jews and Arabs inside Israel. However within Israeli society, the structure of co-existence is also a function of the inherent social context reflecting values and norms of the society. Expressions of hostility and intolerance, even if voiced by small groups, may be viewed as violations of the premises of democratic pluralism, the danger of which lies in their spreading and gaining increased acceptance. Part of the crisis in Israeli pluralism stems from a lacuna in the overall consensual component regarding tolerance as a social value. However interpreted or expressed, a minimal definition of tolerance involves acceptance of alternative groups and cultural contexts as legitimate. This value has not been emphasized in Israeli culture. In the past it has had little expression in the schools, in most homes or in everyday life. Its general absence is a threat to pluralism with regard to any of its dimensions since its converse, intolerance, denies the legitimacy of cultural alternatives. In conclusion it is worth noting that the religious issue as discussed here focuses internally to the society and is therefore subject to considerable control by political and legal measures, however complicated that may be. In this regard it may be said that the religious dimension is more controllable than the Arab-Jewish dimension of pluralism which reflects a variety of decisions and events that are only partly determined by decisions taken within the Israel context. There is a paucity of research findings regarding the religious aspects of Israeli pluralism. The subject has been some-

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what out of bounds and taboo, probably for political, emotional reasons. I cannot help recalling repeated comments made to me in the early 1960s when I was studying ethnic tensions in the society: ''Why don't you leave this subject alone?" I was told by many people. "Bringing it to the surface by asking people about it only makes the problem worse." As sociologists concerned with the future of Israeli society, I do not believe we can afford to take that view. References* Amir, Y., Sharan, S., Ben-Ari, R., Bizman, A. and Rivner, M. 1978. "Assymetry, Academic Status, Differentiation, and the Ethnic Perception and Preferences of Israeli Youth," Human Relation 31, pp. 91116. Arian, A. 1972. "Electoral Choice in Dominant Party System" in Arian, A.Elections in Israel1969. Jerusalem: Academic Press. Ben-Rafael, E. 1982. The Emergence of Ethnicity: Cultural Groups and Social Conflict in Israel. London: Greenwood Press. Cohen, E. 1972. "The Black Panthers and Israeli Society", Jewish Journal of Sociology 14, pp. 93119. Deshen, S. 1979. "The Judaism of Middle-Eastern Immigrants", The Jewish Quarterly 13, pp. 98119. Gans, H.J. 1979. "Symbolic Ethnicity: The Future of Ethnic Groups and Cultures in America", Ethnic and Racial Studies 2(1): pp. 120. Glazer, N., and Moynihan, D.P. 1970. Beyond the Melting Pot, Cambridge, Mass.: M.I.T. Press. Goldberg, H. 1977. "Culture and Ethnicity in the Study of Israeli Society", Ethnic Groups 1(3), pp. 163186. Gordon, M. 1964. Assimilation in American Life, New York: Oxford University Press. Hasson, S. 1981. "Social and Spacial Conflicts: The Settlement Process in Israel During the 1950s and 1960s", L'Espace Geographique, 3, pp. 169179. Herzog, H. 1984. "Political Ethnicity in Israel", Megamot XXVIII, 2/3, pp. 332352. (Hebrew) Krausz, E., ed. 1980. Migration, Ethnicity and Community: Studies of Israeli *For a recent listing of Hebrew references, see the papers in Megamot XXVIII, 2/3, 1984, which is devoted entirely to the issues discussed here.

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Society. New Brunswick and London: Transaction Books. Kuper, L. and Smith, M.G. (eds.). 1969. Pluralism in Africa, Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. LeVine, R.A., and Campbell, D.T. 1972. Ethnocentrism: Theories of Conflict, Ethnic Attitudes and Groups Behavior. New York: John Wiley. Lissak, M. 1972. "Continuity and Change in the Voting Patterns of Oriental Jews", in Arian, A. (ed.), Elections in Israel1969. Jerusalem: Academic Press, pp. 264277. Peres, Y., and Schrift, R. 1978. "Intermarriage and Interethnic Relations: A Comparative Study", Ethnic and Racial Studies 1, pp. 428451. Peres, Y., and Shemer, S. 1984. "The Ethnic Factor in the Elections to the Tenth Knesset", Megamot XXVIII, 2/3, pp. 316331. (Hebrew) Schermerhorn, R.A. 1970. Comparative Ethnic Relations New York: Random House. Schwarzwald, J., and Amir, Y. 1984. "Inter-ethnic Relations and Education: An Israeli Perspective", in Miller, N. and Brewer, M. (eds.), Groups in Contact: The Psychology of Desegregation. New York: Academic Press, pp. 5376. Schwarzwald, J., and Cohen, S. 1982. "The Relationship between Academic Tracking and the Degree of Inter-ethnic Acceptance", Journal of Educational Pschology 74, pp. 588597. Shokeid, M. 1971. The Dual Heritage: Immigrants From the Atlas Mountains in an Israeli Village. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Shuval, J.T. 1956. "Patterns of Intergroup Tension and Affinity", UNESCO International Social Science Bulletin, 8, pp. 75123. Shuval, J.T. 1962. "Emerging Patterns of Ethnic Strain in Israel", Social Forces 40(4), pp. 323340. Shuval, J.T. 1966. "Self-Rejection Among North African Immigrants to Israel", The Israel Annals of Psychiatry and Related Disciplines 4, pp. 101110. Smith, A. 1981. The Ethnic Revival, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Smooha, S. 1978. Israel: Pluralism and Conflict. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Smooha, S. 1984. "Three Perspectives in the Sociology of Ethnic Relations in Israel", Megamot XXVIII, 2/3, pp. 169206. (Hebrew) Spilerman, S., and Habib, Jr. 1976. "Development Towns in Israel: The Role of Community in Creating Ethnic Disparities in Labor Force

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Characteristics", American Journal of Sociology 81 (4), pp. 781812. Stahl, A. 1984. "Clarification of Concepts and Aims in Incorporating Jewish-Oriental Culture into the Curriculum", Megamot XXVIII, 2/3, pp. 385403. (Hebrew) Van den Berghe, P. 1973. "Pluralism" in Honigmann, J.J. (ed.), Handbook of Social and Cultural Anthropology. Chicago: Rand McNally. Weingrad, A., ed. 1985. Studies in Israeli Ethnicity: After the Ingathering. Gordon and Breach. Yancy, W., Ericksen, E., and Juliani, R. 1976. "Emergent Ethnicity: A Review and Reformulation", American Sociological Review 41 (3), pp. 391403. Zangwill, I. 1909. The Melting Pot. New York: MacMillan Company.

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9 Between "Alexandria-On-The-Hudson" and Zion* Baruch Kimmerling The Bipolar Nature of "Jewish Reality" The establishment of a sovereign Jewish State in part of Palestine in 1948 created a new configuration of forces within the Jewish people. The initial signs of this configuration had already emerged along with the political, social and economic development of the Yishuv (the pre-State Jewish community in Palestine) or even earlier, as the Jews began to encounter the modern world. The founding of this state (an act both temporally and causally related to the Holocaust, which destroyed the Eastern European Jewish center and reinforced the North American one) instituted a "Jewish reality" which, although reminiscent of several previous historical periods, could not have been foreseen. Neither the various streams of Zionist ideology, nor the Jewish religion nor any one school of thought or politics in Judaism was prepared for responding to this reality and its attendant problems, contradictions and tensions. In seeking a historical analogy to this situation, scholars tend to compare the North American Jewish centerparticularly that of the United Stateswith the Jewish center which flourished in Babylonia from the end of the Second Temple Period until the end of the tenth century. Initially, there were two centers of equal significanceJerusalem and the academies of Sura and Pumpeditha. However, as the revolts in Palestine were quashed and the population decreased, the Babylonian center gradually became dominant. A new Jewish culture was created in Babylonia, spearheaded by religious sages and philosophers (the Amoraim), culminating in the compilation of the monumental Babylonian Talmud (from 200 to 500 CE). This community and culture were closed, introverted, particularistic *The author gratefully acknowledges generous support provided by the Memorial Foundation for Jewish Culture, and Ezra Mendelson for his friendly help.

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and politically dependent on the good graces of constantly changing rulers. The North American Jewish center is also compared with that of Hellenistic Alexandrian Jewry (from the third century BCE to the Revolt of 66 CE). While this community never created any particular Jewish cultural assets paralleling those of Babylonia, it did develop a new culture which was more receptive to the modern world, attempting and largely succeeding in attaining a synthesis between Judaism and Hellenism, the foundations of which still number among the cornerstones of so-called "Western culture." The Septuagint, the translation of the Hebrew Bible, was produced in Alexandria, revealing Judaism to the world. Outstanding Greek philosophers studied the Jews, seeking common features between their respective schools of thought. This universalist Jewish-Hellenistic culture spawned both historical and philosophical works, as well as plays and poems. Its most prominent exponent was the philosopher called Philo of Alexandria. The Jews of Alexandria also wielded considerable political power (until the Roman conquest). Some were citizens of the polisactually a metropolis by ancient world standards. Most supported their brethren in Jerusalem, both materially and politically; in the year 66 CE, they joined in the revolt against Rome, in which some 50,000 were killed (Bludau, 1906; Tcherikover, 1959). The American Jewish community's inability to choose unambiguously between these two analogies essentially expresses its internal dilemma, or at least a failure to determine which sectors are to be emphasized. In comparing "Babylonia" and "Alexandria-on-the-Hudson" from an Israeli point of view, we also express various aspirations regarding the nature of the American partner and relations between the two centers. Objectively speaking, the analogy with Alexandria appears to parallel reality more closely, considering both the nature of North American Jewish culture and its socio-political position in American and global systems. We recognize, however, that analogies of this type constitute more of an intellectual plaything than an efficacious scientific tool for analysis and comprehension. The contradictions and tensions which developed with the formation of the two contemporary centers did not surface at once, perhaps because of Zionism's ostensibly absolute victory over all its rivals, due to the realization of its prognosis that the Jews cannot survive without fulfillment of the Zionist ideal and to its amazing success in establishing a state with considerable military prowess and the ability to absorb mass immigration. These achievements long overshadowed all other components of the new Jewish reality. Moreover, several of the social and political elements of this reality find it in their best interests to suppress contradictions and tensions in the collective consciousness. This situation corroborates Harkabi's contention

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(1986) that no fruitful public debate has taken place in Israel: "reality" is blurred by an appeal to irrationality and myth, the decision-making system is paralyzed and the institutional system weakening (Eisenstadt, 1985:534544). However, Israel represents only an individual case of a more extensive phenomenon taking place in far broader contexts. Furthermore, the "Jewish world" outside Israel does not relish considering "sensitive'' issues, especially those perceived as liable to harm Israel, exacerbate internal dispute therein or foster differences of opinion with the remainder of the Jewish world. To ensure effective consideration of the issue, we must free ourselves of Israelocentric approaches and commence with the observation that the development of the North American Jewish center (especially in the United States) is a phenomenon of no less importance in the "Jewish reality" than the Holocaust or the establishment of the State of Israel. America's Jews, numbering approximately 5.25 to 5.5 million persons, constitute one of modern history's largest Jewish political and social concentrations, both quantitatively and otherwise. An analysis of Jewish immigration patterns since 1881, when modern Jewish immigration began, indicates that the United States was then a destination preferred over all others, as it remains today (Edelman, 1983), except for a brief period between 1948 and 1952, when priority was accorded to Israel, primarily because it was the only country receptive to mass immigration. The establishment of the State of Israel added a new dimension to the primary destinations of immigration, although only to a minor extent. The new Jewish center which developed in the United States was unique in form and wielded unprecedented power in the "Jewish reality" (see, for example, Silberman, 1985 or Goldscheider, 1985). Structurally, this center was characterized by two ostensibly contradictory but actually complementary trends: (a) Differential organization based on the local community (which indeed accounted for less than half the Jewish population) through institution of federative, national organizational hubs, each sufficiently weak to avoid the emergence of any political or cognitive buffer between the Jewish population and other components of American society. (b) Somewhat organic integration within the center of pluralistic American society, fostering the widespread view among all its members of American society, as a "Protestant-Catholic-Jewish culture" or at times as a "Judeo-Christian culture," even though the Jews constitute only a minimal percentage of the total population (about 2.3%). Thus, for example, Yiddish words have entered the "American" language and Jews have contributed significantly to American literature and drama in their transition from "strangers" to "natives," especially since 1921, although the Yiddish language itself became marginal in this process (Rosten, 1968; Teller, 1968). This

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status was achieved only after extended struggles and superior ethnic strategy, primarily through joining the "coalition of the deprived" of the Democratic Party and abandoning socialism (Fuchs, 1956), as well as involvement in processes of Americanization and institutional construction paralleling that of the controlling society, such as clubs, trade unions and colleges (Handlin, 1954). These institutions became part of the pluralistic American scene without obligating their members to expose themselves to overall confrontation with the non-Jewish "social networks." This achievement may be appreciated further if we recall that in 1926, Jews still ranked in 28th place out of forty groups in the American ethnic hierarchy (Bogardus, 1928). Improvement in the Jews' status occurred primarily through transition of American society from one which places heavy emphasis on successful Americanizationvia the ''melting pot" conceptionto a society which accords legitimacy to ethnic pluralism (Davie, 1936; Glazer and Moynihan, 1963), without foregoing other components of Americanization (language, achievements, etc.). This new combination of Americanism and ethnic pluralism proved most convenient for the Jews; it enabled them to integrate and still maintain the boundaries of the Jewish collectivity and prevent total exposure to the non-Jewish world, the fear of which, expressed differentially by its various component strata, has never entirely disappeared. Consequently, despite processes of secularization and Americanization, ethnicity persists through the fifth generation and beyond (Waxman, 1983). The United States has given rise to a new school of Jewish thought which tends to define antisemitism not as a "Jewish problem" but rather a Gentile one (Halpern, 1974:8089). Antisemitism is constantly declining in American society: in 1964, antisemitic opinions were expressed by about 42% of America's non-Jewish population, while in 1981, the percentage dropped to 35%. Moreover, while antisemitism constitutes the dominant prejudice in the Old World, in the American context it "competes" with prejudices against other ethnic and racial groups (blacks, Japanese, Indians, Italians, Poles, etc.). Furthermore, even Americans who do espouse antisemitic views acknowledge certain "positive" Jewish characteristics, such as diligence (93%), belief in Goda key American value(90%), warmth and friendliness (86%) and a significant contribution to American culture (Yankelovich, Skelly and White, 1981). Nevertheless, vast sectors of American Jewry continue to feel threatened by antisemitism. The United States is therefore a non-Jewish society (and also a superpower) in which the Jewsas suchnot only constitute an integral part of the collective identity, as defined by the overall local culture itself, but also may expand and intensify their power and promote their interests by recruiting extensive support among non-Jewish sectors within American society, including positive views regarding Israel, as expressedin varying

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degreesby some 73% of non-Jewish Americans. These activities are all undertaken within the framework and restrictions stipulated by the American political system's rules of the game, as they apply to all other components of American society. Integration within the American system apparently has a price, from the Jewish perspective, of which the main component is an increase in the rate of assimilation among the Jews, primarily as a result of intermarriage, as well as a declining birth rate (Schmelz, 1981; Bachi, 1982). Nevertheless, it should be emphasized that American Jewry has no assimilation-oriented social or ideological movement. Assimilation trends have led Jewish leaders, such as Arthur Hertzberg, to predict a gloomy future for Judaism as an ongoing socio-political system and to call for internal concentration to ensure survivalan objective viewed as competitive with that of Zionism (Haaretz Daily Newspaper, April 28, 1983 [Hebrew]). The complex and intricate relations which developed between this century's two major Jewish centers"Zion" and North Americaare affected by the internal tensions and contradictions within and between these centers. This chapter seeks to provide an initial mapping of the components of mutual relations between these two centers. As indicated below, these relations simultaneously comprise extreme mutual interdependence, exchange of various types of "merchandise" and competition and conflict of interests in which the very existence of one entity may be perceived as adversely affecting the existence of the other. Zionism: Between Success and Failure Since Israel's achievement of sovereignty in 1948, time has apparently always worked in favor of consolidation of the Zionist enterprise and the emergence of the State of Israel not only as an ongoing, legitimate political entity but also as a dominant symbolic and power factor for the Jewish people. This situation contrasts with that of the preceding period, in which Zionist ideals and Jewish settlement in Palestine were viewed as marginal in both Jewish and international arenas. The Israeli version of Zionism was apparently justified uncontrovertibly by the Holocaust, as well as by the establishment of the State of Israel, which proved capable of displaying amazing military ability, functioning efficiently in an especially prominent extended conflict (Kimmerling, 1983), absorbing an unprecedented number of immigrantsconsidering its population sizewithin only a few years, creating a new Hebrew culture, etc. Israeli Zionism defined Judaism as identical national culture, which was perceived as the ingathering of a decisive majority of the Jewish people in "Zion." Proponents of this Israelocentric view, which was indeed anchored in various aspects of Zion-

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ist tradition and certain components of the Jewish religion, demanded exclusivity not only within Zionist circles but also within the overall Jewish world. According to all indications, such recognition was indeed imminent, at least declaratively. Nevertheless, most orthodox groups in world Jewryand a fortiori in Israelcould not ignore the apparent success of the Zionist ideal or at least of some Jewish "fact" which also demanded attention within the conceptual framework of Jewish theology. Eventually, they granted at least de facto recognition (Aran, 1986:119) to the existence of a Jewish centerand not just a center of Jewsin Israel. Some abandoned mere resignation and passive recognition, attempting to influence the Israeli political and social entity from within, while exploiting the central symbols of Zionism, most of which were borrowed selectively from Judaism itself (Kimmerling, 1985). Moreover, in the western Jewish world, particularly in the United States, in which the Jews underwent secularization and rapid integration in the local "Western" culture, economic and political support for Israel, accompanied by various ceremonies and symbolstogether with the other traditional Jewish symbolsconstituted part of a substitute for religion itself, a kind of "civil religion." One outstanding example of such a ceremony is the "Salute to Israel Parade," held since 1965 on New York's Fifth Avenue (and on a smaller scale in other cities as well) to mark Israel's Independence Day. The parade constitutes a ceremony of internal solidarity and an external display of considerable power, based on Zionist-Israeli symbols (Sklare, 1971:210223). Notwithstanding the above observations, it is very difficult to perceive of Zionism cognitively as an unambiguous "success story." The combination of an abundance of phenomena and processes has developed contradictions and severe internal tensions which even extend beyond the well-known gaps between utopiaand its numerous variants (Katz, 1982)and its operative realization or transformation into an ideology, following Mannheim's (1936) theory. The major points of tension and contradiction are summarized below: The State of Israel did not succeed in gaining acceptance in the region in which it was establishedwhich has always been the target 1. region of Zionism and the Jewish religion alikeand remains in a situation of war for its survival with most of its neighbors. Hence Israel's Jews are currently the only Jewish community in the world facing the danger of collective physical destruction. Notwithstanding the peace treaty with Egypt, the situation does not appear likely to change in the foreseeable future. The very legitimacy of Israel's existence (and its definition as an exclusively Jewish state) is no longer solely an external problem, considered by many world na-

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tions and Western intellectual groups. The current situation also arouses serious questions of self-legitimacy, both within Israeli society (Kimmerling, 1983) and in certain sectors of the Jewish collectivity. This development also entails an upheaval in the Israelocentric version of Zionism: instead of serving as a refuge for persecuted Jews, the Jewish State now requires Jewish immigration to cope with its own security problems ("immigration strengthens the nation" was a popular slogan). Israel's desperate reliance on Jewish immigration is intensified even farther by the binational character of the Israeli system which has developed since the 1967 war. 2. Although productivism among the Jewish people represents a key component of Zionist philosophy, Israel has not attained economic independence and apparently will not achieve it in the near future. Such independence, which constituted a kind of collective symbol and goal during the 1950s, has entirely disappeared from the collectivity's agenda of avowed objectives (Kimmerling, 1983a:128). Moreover, productivization primarily related to the individual level; from a logical and economical point of view, there is no mandatory connection between productivity and economic independence. Nevertheless, Israel's dependence undoubtedly maintained some significance insofar as collective symbols are concerned. Many of those who considered this situation from a value-oriented point of view, such as Yeshayahu Leibowitz and Ezra Zohar, expressed rather extreme opinions, declaring that Israel's sole achievement in the economic sphere was the improvement and bureaucratization of the Haluka (literally "distribution"i.e. of charitable contributions). Israel's economic dependence is indeed explained and justified by the cost of the Israel-Arab conflict, whose share of the foreign aid Israel requires is gradually decreasing relative to domestic production, as measured by the GNP (Michaely, 1977). However, explanations cannot eliminate Israel's situation and image of economic dependence and vulnerability. This situation is exacerbated by constant tensions and struggles within the Israeli system concerning the standard of living of its component strata and the system as a whole, with industrialized, affluent Western countries serving as the reference and comparison group. These circumstances apparently exert a direct effect on migration patterns to and from Israel, especially when the income and financial security problems are compounded by questions of general security and the legitimacy of the collectivity's existence. 3. The traditional Jewish community has always suffered schisms and rifts. It suffices to recall the severe struggles between Hassidim and

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Mitnagdim or between religious traditionalist and Maskilim on the one hand and secularized members of the community who still sought to maintain their Jewish identity on the other, as well as the subsequent disputes among various factions with alternative definitions of the collective Jewish identity within the modern world (such as the Bund, the various schools of Zionist thought, etc.). However, the Jewish world had never experienced schisms based on primordial differences, as reflected in variations in external appearance, race or ethnic differences, such as those which prevail in contemporary Israeli society. It was hoped that the new Jewish society developing in Israel would be rather harmonious because of the common Zionist denominator. In contrast to these expectations, however, Israeli society appears to be split by primordial cleavages (Orientals vs. Westerners, Jews vs. Arabs), class distinctions (the rich vs. the poorwhich partly overlap ethnic originand ideological splintering (religious vs. non-religious, "hawks" vs. "doves," the left vs. the right, etc.). 4. As indicated above, the most significant wave of immigration to Israel was the "Sixth Aliyah," which arrived in the 1950s and doubled the Jewish membership of the collectivity within only a few years. Since then, Israel has ceased constituting an unambiguously preferred destination for Jewish immigration, even for Jews emigrating from distressed countries, such as Iran and especially the Soviet Union (Zaslavsky and Brym, 1983; Gitelman, 1977). Emigration from the non-distressed countries of what is termed "the Diaspora" in the Zionist lexicon has fluctuated over the years but has not affected Israel's Jewish population significantly. About 82% of all Jewish population movement in the world between 1948 and 1952 was directed towards Israel; since then, however, this rate has declined consistently, from 59% for 19531960 to 54% for 19611968, rising again slightly to 67% (based on an estimated 1.8 million immigrants) in 19691976 and then decreasing once again to 41% between 1977 and 1982 (Della Pergola, 1986:178). The converse phenomenon is Jewish emigration from Israel, called yeridah (descent) in Zionist terminology. Its dimensions are debatable, although even those who minimize its proportions estimate it at about 10% of the current Jewish population of Israel. Kass and Lipset (1979), for example, indicate that the chances for social mobility among entire strata of the younger generation in Israel are perceived as far better in the United States than in Israel. This yeridah is not only a statistical or demographic phenomenon, but rather affects and harms the image of the "cosmic order" on which several

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basic assumptions of Zionism and the State of Israel are founded. The yored (emigrant) not only weakens the system and adversely affects security, but also denies or at least weakens the validity of the Zionist claim that there can be no Jewish existence or security except within the framework of the Jewish sovereign entity. This is analogous to the attitude of communist regimes towards citizens who seek to emigrate, declaring it inconceivable that a sane human being would desire to leave the only "just" social order and live under a "defective regime" in its stead. 5. Considering the above observations and contrasting them with the original and somewhat pretentious Zionist aspiration towards building a society which would be a "light unto the nations," the Israeli State, when measured by the Western standards it applies to itself, hardly even constitutes "a nation like all (enlightened) nations" (as expressed in an alternative Zionist aspiration). Israel is situated at the geographic and cultural periphery of the Western world, which serves as a reference group even for Jews of Oriental origin; it is dependent on external economic, military and political aid and finds it increasingly difficult to cope effectively and creatively with internal problems. These difficulties should not be perceived as "childhood diseases" which can be rectified or improved significantly in the foreseeable future. Despite Israel's international prominence and regional military might, the country is perceived as a "small state" which will remain so. Israel's "handicapped'' image is not the exclusive province of strata with a modern and civic orientation, but is also shared by religious elements (of all varieties, including those who define themselves as Zionists) both within and without the country, which is very far from being run according to Halacha. Comparison of the achievements and limitations of the Zionist movement, as reflected in the entire Israeli totality, reveals certain problems in perception of Zionism as a "success story" and implies a converse interpretation. In this context, "success" refers not to subjective moral, political or social judgement, but rather to a sociological and psychological variable, as perceived by the relevant groups (for example, the components of Israel's population, various elements in world Jewry and various factors in the international arena). This variable may have considerable influence on the future course of certain factors (migration to and from Israel, political support of Israel or the recruitment of support and even Arab willingness or unwillingness to accept Israel's existence in the Middle East). Furthermore, perception of "success," which is analogous to a system's "political effi-

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cacy," may also constitute a self-fulfilling prophecy. In other words, if a social or political entity is perceived as "successful," its chances of gaining support increase and vice versa. We will proceed to examine the extent to which perceptions of success (following the 1967 war, for example) or failure (as after the 1973 and 1982 wars) indeed constitute self-fulfilling concepts. Israel's Role in the North American Center In the secular Jewish world, as noted earlier, Zionism and attitudes towards Israel serve for most secular Jews as a kind of substitute for religion or even as a codex of "civil religion" (following Bellah, 1979). In a nationwide American survey, covering a representative sample of both the overall Jewish population and of Jewish leaders, 78% of the former and 90% of the latter indicated that concern for Israel constitutes a highly significant component of being Jewish, while 77% and 83%, respectively, declared that the destruction of Israel would be the greatest personal tragedy of their lives (Cohen, 1983). Refining this observation somewhat, we may contend that Zionism and the existence of Israel reinforce Judism and perhaps the Diaspora Jewish community as well. On the simple, material level, most funds earmarked for the local Jewish community in the United States, for example, are collected by local federations, which stress "Zionist" symbols and aid to Israel. Part of the money is allocated for maintaining the community and national bureaucracies, social welfare services and education, while the remainder is remitted to the United Jewish Appeal (UJA), which in turn pays about one-third to the Joint Distribution Committee (JDC), which aids Jews throughout the world (in cooperation with HIAS) in emigrating to any destination whatsoever. Besides its fund-raising activities, however, the UJA also fulfills several additional functions for American Jewry: (a) It defines the boundaries and identity of the Jewish community collectivity; (b) It constitutes a focus for the joint activity of all its members regarding generally noncontroversial issues; (c) It contributes to the local community's organizational structure (notwithstanding division into religious factions and community strata or differences of opinion concerning issues viewed as controversial in the American context), as well as to intercommunity structure; (d) Its continuous, long-term existence fosters community stability and continuity and maintains both the intra-community and inter-community structures; (e) It constitutes a reserve for recruitment and socialization of new leadership on the local and national level. The proportional distribution of UJA contributions between various internal Jewish community objectives and Israeli projects is now undergoing some change: local

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needs, which accounted for only 35% of the total funds collected in the 1970s, received 55% of the total in the 1980s, with only 45% directed towards Israel's needs. Most ethnic groups remaining in the United States (e.g. Italians, Irish, Poles, etc.) could develop their ethnic subidentities within the framework of American pluralism, while maintaining some contact (relatives, cultural symbols and even some political connections, as did the Irish, for example) with their own self-identity was somewhat problematic insofar as "country of origin" was concerned, especially vis-á-vis their non-Jewish counterparts from those countries. Moreover, American Jews were interested in severing all ties with the "old country," in which they frequently suffered humiliation and persecution. These difficulties were compounded by the alternative choiceidentity as a religious group in a country upholding total separation between church and state. In the latter instance, they were barred from most outward expressions of identity, as religion in the new country was a private affair rather than a public one. The emergence of Israel as a sovereign state in the political and international arena offered the Jews a substitute "country of origin" (Sklare, 1971), surrounding which an ethnic Jewish identity could be formed. In this context, we note that pro-Zionist traditions and Israel-directed orientations had already existed for similar reasons since the 1920s (Shapiro, 1971). The American version of Zionism thus represented the opposite of Eastern or Israeli Zionism. It provided identity and legitimacy for the local community and did not encourage its disintegration through immigration to "Zion." Only 12 % of respondents in the above-cited American Jewish sample believed that every American Jew must consider settling in Israel seriously, whereas 87% believed that the future looked bright for American Jewry. These observations conform with previous findings, as recorded in the Lakeville studies (Lakeville is a pseudonym for an the upper middle class Jewish community of Highland Park, Illinois). Only 1% of this community considered Israel a place of personal refuge, although most declared that the destruction of Israel would be a great personal loss (Sklare and Greenblum, 1979). According to Cohen (1983), the Jews adopted two complementary strategies: liberal views and activity (which later became more conservative during the Reagan Administration) as a strategy of integration in society and Zionist (or pro-Israel) views as a strategy for ethnic survival. Previously, American Jewry perceived of the Yishuv and subsequently the State of Israel as a place of refuge for persecuted Jews who would not, could not and at times should not select the new "Promised Land," i.e. the United States, as their target for immigration. The existence of the Yishuvand later the State of Israelas a potential refuge and alternative destination for Jewish immigration began to

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play a significant role in the American Jewish community's integration into the American political fabric, as it prevented needless conflict with the authorities. U.S. immigration policy began to change after World War I (restrictions reached their peak in the 1924 legislation) and the gates of the main destination for Jewish immigration began to close. This period was also difficult for American Jewry, as American ethnocentrism, intolerance of strangers and demands for accelerated Americanization (meaning the adoption of Protestant and Anglo-Saxon values) accumulated impetus. American Jewish leaders found it more convenient to seek the Administration's support in pressuring Britain to absorb Jewish immigrants in Palestine than to enter conflict regarding the immigration policies of their own government. We also note the ambivalent attitudes displayed by second and later generations of American Jews towards their "non-modern" brethren from the Eastern European shtetl (Cuddihy, 1974), whose appearances might have reinforced the negative stereotypes of Jews which were all too common in American society. The situation was somewhat different during other times and regarding other Jews, as indicated below. Furthermore, Israel must supply the American center with two additional types of "merchandise:" first, Israel complements the cultural products of the American center, primarily with Hebrew culture and the Hebrew language (which supplement but also compete with Yiddish and especially English). This "commodity," in turn, entails the provision of teachers and advisors for the varied Jewish educational system, complementing what the local system cannot supply. At this point, mutual relations begin to become problematic and complex. Cooperation, Dependency and Conflict The "Jewish reality" resulting from the development and reinforcement of the two major Jewish centersone in Israel and the other in the United Statesfostered various differential patterns of mutual relations. Obviously, there can be no absolute symmetry between the two centers. Israel is a comprehensive social system which defines itself as the Jewish national state; it maintains sovereignty over its territory and is highly capable of rallying its population via a relatively strong central government. One consequence of this situation is Israel's potential ability to absorb hundreds of thousands of distressed immigrants within a short period of time, even though it is neither an exclusive nor even a primary target destination. The American center, in contrast, can promise no such refuge, except perhaps conjecturally. The recurrence of such a situation is most unlikely and political responsibility for the prevailing circumstances rests with the sover-

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eign Jewish center alone (see Gorni, Haaretz (Daily Newspaper), April 7, 1982 [Hebrew]). The boundaries of the American Jewish community are somewhat blurred. The communitywhich constitutes part of an overall political, social and economic structurelacks central institutions for collective decision-making and participation therein is voluntary. Nevertheless, its attitudes towards Israel should not be defined as "diasporahomeland" relations according to traditional Zionist conceptions, not only because of the "reverse" demographic ratios between the two, but also because of ambiguity in their reciprocal hierarchical and dependency relations. Furthermore, the American Jewish community may be viewed as a cultural, social, political and economic center with a high level of institutionalization which underwent a process of homogenization (Goldberg, 1968). On the one hand, the decisive majority of American Jews are American-born, middle-class college graduates. On the other hand, a process of geographic dispersal commenced over the past decade; as a result of social mobility, the Jews began moving towards the southern sunbelt regions, as indicated by Fisher (1968). The collectivity comprises more than 800 communities, organized into about 230 local federations, augmented by a variety of intersecting national organizations, such as the American Jewish Committee, the American Jewish Congress, the Synagogue Council of America, the American Association for Jewish Education (AAJE), the Jewish Welfare Board (JWB), etc., among which organizations the Council of Presidents of Major American Jewish Organizations is especially prominent. These organizations, however, do not suffice to guarantee defined institutional boundaries for the system. Internal processes within the American Jewish community, combined with the reinforcement of the community's selfidentity and perhaps also a certain measure of divergence between segments of its elite and Israeli policy (especially between 1977 and 1984), all indicate a tendency towards transition from an "outgoing" appeal (concern and recruitment for Israel and other Jews in distress) to an "introverted" approach, i.e. allocation of more material and human resources for reinforcing veteran Jewish communities and building new ones. Nevertheless, this development apparently has not eroded American Jewry's relations with Israel to any significant extent, as Sheffer (1984) contends, but rather has intensified the ever-present dilemma inherent in these relations. While the central and local institutions of American Jewry lack coercive power, they maintain strength through the material means at their disposal, their skill at sophisticated political activity and especially through fulfilling the needs of American Jews. Elazar (1982) goes even farther in his analy-

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sis of the American Jewish institutional structure. He claims, somewhat exaggeratedly, that one may perceive the American Jewish community as a kind of "state," possessing both an American Jewish identity which transcends religious and community schisms, and a universalist Diaspora Jewish identity which perceives the Jews and Judaism as cultural-social "emissaries" by virtue of their ubiquitous alien presence and tendency towards agitation. The "Israelization" of certain Jews is consequently considered as abandonment of this mission and creation of an entity different from that of the "authentic" Jew. Hannah Arendt and George Steiner are two outstanding proponents of this approach, which is apparently not widely-held among most of the Jewish population, although it has some influence in elite circles. It is only natural that each of the two centers (or even "states") would have its own interests which are not necessarily identical or complementary to one another and may even conflict in a zero-sum situation. Such conflicts of interests foster both covert and overt tensions between the two centers, the three major components of which are considered below: Denial of Legitimacy As indicated earlier, classic Zionism, especially that which actually developed in "Zion," as propounded most unequivocally by David Ben-Gurion, was based not only on denial of the Diaspora but also on rejection of any alternative solution to what was termed "the Jewish Problem." However, the circumstances of the establishment and existence of the State of Israel clearly indicated that hopes for total "Ingathering of the Exiles" were unrealistic and that the Jewish State could not survive without the long-term existence of an American Jewry wielding power within the United States itself, thereby providing Israel with economic and political support. An internal contradiction developed within Zionism. Israel's very existence required the support of a strong Diaspora, entailing relinquishment of the demand for the aliyah ("ascent," i.e. immigration to Israel) of precisely those Jews who defined themselves as ''Zionists." This approach accorded de facto recognition to the possibility of a secure, flourishing and creative Jewish life outside the boundaries of the sovereign Jewish State, thus contradicting another basic tenet of Zionism. This situation, coupled with the obvious preference accorded to North America as a target for Jewish immigration, poses a serious challenge to most conceptions according legitimacy to the Zionist movement and the State of Israel. According to Schweid's ideological formulation, Zionism is unprepared for coping with this situation; hence as long as most Jews live in the Diaspora, Israel itself becomes the "Diaspora" (Schweid, 1980:245). The only bases for legitimacy remaining, ex-

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cept for the symbol of national sovereignty, are conceptions anchored in the Jewish religion and primordial approaches. However, these conceptions do not necessarily demand "an immediate state"and certainly not the modern civil state towards which Israel aspires. The numerous discussions, articles and books on attempts to redefine the "objectives" of Israel and Zionism, within the Zionist system in Israel and North America alikeand even in non-Jewish forums (see, for example, the article by Thomas Friedman in the New York Times, May 25, 1986)constitute a symptom of an intensive crisis of legitimacy facing Zionism and the reciprocal anomie in Zion-Diaspora relations. Even most Israelis (70%) realize that American Jews do not feel that they are in Exile; nevertheless, nearly 60% accept the Zionist dictum that America is Exile. Furthermore, 77% of Israelis realize that there is no chance for significant aliyah from the United State (Smith, 1983). From an Israeli or Zionist point of view, the great North American Jewish center's development, accumulated power and the legitimacy towards which it strives, effectively place it in a zero-sum situtationboth within American society and vis-á-vis Israel and its Zionist claimsregarding the legitimacy of Israel and the prices which each side must pay for survival in its respective region. When the situation is viewed from the standpoint of most American Jews, it emerges that despite the status of Jews in American society and of Judaism in American culture, Jewish survival is still not perceived as self-evident or guaranteed in the long range. It is assumed that vast sectors of North American Jews consider it significant to ensure Jewish continuity and remain within the boundaries of "Judaism," however the limits, form, significance and commitment to this collectivity may be defined. When Jews had achieved maximum emancipation and undergone processes of secularization in previous eras, as in Germany of the mid-nineteenth century, departure from the boundaries of the Jewish collectivity was rapid and widespread. A study by Theilhaber reveals that out of every 100 Jewish girls born in Germany in the middle of the past century, two converted to Christianity, 18 married non-Jews and the 55 who married Jews gave birth to 118 children of both sexes (Theilhaber, 1921). In the United States, in which significant interest is revealed in the "German experience," the situation is more complex: there is less motivation for departure from the collectivity and absolute assimilation because of the legitimacy of the Jewish collectivity as an ethnic-national unit among the other units comprising the American nation-state, as well as the benefits which the individual and family may derive from membership in the Jewish community and federation. Furthermore, even mixed marriages need not signify departure from the Jewish collectivity; in fact, the converse may be true. Nevertheless, considering the demographic data aloneand the collective identity of children of

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mixed marriagesit appears that the Jewish collectivity, as it becomes more like the remainder of the American middle class, is now undergoing a slow process of quantitative erosion whose speed and significance are subject to debate. For example, in a national survey of American Jewry (NJPS) undertaken in 1957, it was found that 27% of nonJewish women who married Jewish men converted to Judaism. Furthermore, 46% of non-Jewish women and 44% of non-Jewish men married to Jewish spouses declared themselves to be Jewish, even if they did not undergo a formal conversion process. The survey revealed that 63% of the children of Jewish fathers and 98%(!) of children of Jewish mothers in mixed marriages were raised and educated as Jews (Goldstein, 1981). In a 1981 survey, 6% were found to have entered the boundaries of Judaism (those who defined themselves as Jews but were raised as Christians or atheists). To the question "spouse's religion," 84% of those who declared themselves to have a Jewish identity responded "Jewish," 8% "Christian," 1% "other" and 7% "no religion.'' Some 89% raised or will raise their children as Jews (Cohne, 1983). This comparison between periods and with other data does not constitute unambiguous proof of any significant increase in the tendency to leave the boundaries of the Jewish collectivity. Moreover, it should be emphasized that only persons still within these boundaries were interviewed. The influence of mixed marriages is apparently still a two-way street; often, they may signify entry into rather than departure from the Jewish collectivity. One issue which is not subject to debate is the evident anxiety among the Jewish leadership regarding American Jewry's "demographic destiny" on the one hand and its political weight (considering processes of geopolitical dispersal) on the other. Despite the strong and well-established status of Jews in America, the Jewish community still receives ambiguous messages regarding its place in the American social and political structure. American Jews are aware of and concerned about the existence of antisemitism (40% have encountered such phenomena in their areas of residence); they are still believed to have too much influence, despite their self-assessment to the contrary. They are suspected of greater loyalty to Israel than to their own country (even though Israel merits great support among the general American public). Jews are perceived as Americans but simultaneously as "clannish," preferring their own ethnic group and forming ties primarily among themselves, as diligent and inventive but also as "pushy," even when unwelcome (Yankelovich et al., 1981). These views are also partly anchored in the insoluble dilemma of the American society and polity, which has never foregone "Americanism" despite its recognition of the pluralistic structure. This situation effectively constitutes an individual case of conflict and disharmony built into a society's structure. Pluralism represents legitimization of this sit-

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uation, as shown by Huntington (1981). The American Jewish community's attitudes towards Israel thus reinforce the community and promote its continuity, yet also entail considerable tension. These circumstances have not led to delegitimization of Israel and Zionism by the American Jewish community, except among certain ultra-orthodox groups (which always objected to Zionism but kept up very close ties, especially through Landsmanschaften, with their relatives in Israel, while maintaining two-way movement through visits and marriages and a one-way flow of resources from the United States to religious seminaries in the "Holy Land") and remnants of the Bund, as well as the abovementioned small groups of intellectuals. However, the conflict of interests recalled earlier (and repeated below) maintains the latent potential for initiating a process of de-legitimization of Israel and Zionism, especially if the price of survival is perceived as too high and if cheaper, more convenient and more efficacious alternatives appear on the horizon. At this stage, the struggle focuses on a contradiction between Israeli demands for unconditional support and aid and the increasing tendency to pose various conditions for this support and the necessity for diversion of more and more resources for the needs of local communities. Demographic Competition Throughout the development of relations between Israel and its Palestinian and other Arab neighbors in the Middle East, Israel will always have a "demographic problem," as it will remain a "small state" by all standards. As a result of instrumental reasons and ideological-Zionist dictates alike, Israel will attempt to attract Jewish immigration and prevent the departure of Jews from within. Whether the American Jewish community perceives any immediate "demographic danger" or not, it will continue to compete with Israelby choice or otherwisefor attraction of Jewish immigrants. This situation contrasts with that of the 1920s, sd and sd, when American Jews were not interested in absorbing immigration, both for internal reasons and to avoid conflict with the Administration. The new immigration of Jews to the United States from the Soviet Union, Iran, South America or South Africa, as well as from Israel, has introduced new, dynamic dimensions into the local Jewish communities, aiding somewhat in rectifying birth rates and transforming them anew into immigration-absorbing communities (Gitelman, 1982). Smith's comparison of views held by Israel and American Jews indicated that yeridah is still largely condemned by Israelis (over 70%) but is virtually uncensured by Americans (16%). The external boost to the American Jewish population is provided primarily by Israel, which has apparently contributed between 350,000 and 500,000 persons to

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this community, creating a new ethnic subgroup in the American mosaic, "American-Israelis," who maintain complex and highly ambivalent ties with the local Jewish community (Kass and Lipset, 1979). In contrast, the American Jewish Community has "lost" very few of its members to Israel; moreover, many of those who do immigrate only return to the United States subsequently. Another struggle between the two centers concerns the immigration of "distressed" Jews. The most bitter disagreement emerging between Jewish aid societies and Israel concerned their respective attitudes towards emigrants from the Soviet Union and other "Exiles." Israel was even accused of preferring not to rescue Soviet Jews rather than having them emigrate to the United States or remain in Western European countries, whereas the Jewish rescue organization was not Israel. This dispute underscored the contrasting outlooks and interests of the two Jewish centers. Both centers absorbed Jewish immigration from the Soviet Union: between 1971 and 1980, 156,000 Soviet Jews immigrated directly to Israel and 80,000 to the United States (whereas some 16,000 headed for other Western destinations). The most outstanding development in Soviet Jewish emigration is its change in direction: initially, it was directed almost entirely towards Israel, but as time passed, more and more emigrants opted for the United States. Between 1967 and 1980, HIAS alone aided in the settlement of 125,000 Jewish emigrants from all over the world in the United States. Participation in Policy-Making and Shaping the Collectivity Since its inception, the Zionist movement had always faced a dilemma regarding the attainment of optimum involvement among members of the Jewish collectivityeven those who do not identify with the Zionist political and social idealsin construction of the Zionist enterprise in Palestine/Israel. The Zionist movement recruited their material resources and political support, yet barred them from gaining influence or power in the actual shaping of the local polity or in routine and immediate decision-making processes. A twofold problem is inherent in this attempt to win unconditional support, as the Zionists sought to prevent non-Zionist participants from influencing determination of "Zionist policy" and withhold power and influence from Zionist (and even non-Zionist) benefactors who have not realized the basic tenets of Zionism and do not live in Israel. The Jewish Agency, which served as the implementing arm of the Zionist movement in Palestine and obtained international recognition for its representation of Zionist affairs, also included non-Zionist elements from its establishment in 1929 until cessation of their activity in 1942. On March 1, 1948, the National Council, the elected body of the Yishuv determined that the Provisional Government of the State of Israel would comprise members of the

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Council itself and of the Jewish Agency Executive. This act at least formally relinquished the sovereignty-related components of the collectivity, whose boundaries were the citizens of Israel. Subsequently, when a government was established following elections in Israel, the respective spheres of Jewish Agency and Israel Government activities were delineated. The former body accepted responsibility for aliyah, immigrant absorption and settlement. However, its demands for representation of world Jewry or of Jewish organizations operating in IsraelZionist and non-Zionist alikewere not accepted. The non-Zionist organizations, especially the American Jewish Committee, insisted that Israel accord no special status to the World Zionist Organization insofar as world Jewry is concerned (Liebman, 1977). Later, this situation enabled a return to the 1929 model of the "extended Jewish Agency" (in accordance with the Agreement of June 21, 1971), in which non-Zionist organizations are to participate as well. Furthermore, it fostered an attempt at formal determination of the boundaries of influence wielded by Jewish factors outside the borders of the Israeli collectivity. A compromise was reached in the enactment of the "Status Law1953;" determining the Jewish Agency's special status as an "author- ized agency" within the State of Israel in the (then) agreed spheres of land development and settlement, immigrant absorption and coordination among all relevant Jewish institutions and organizations operating in Israel. The Jewish Agency was again separated from the World Zionist Organization, although half the members of the former's executive bodies were appointed by the latter. The Chairman of the Zionist Executive is also Chairman of the Jewish Agency Assembly and Executive and both bodies have the same treasurer and comptroller. Preference of the Zionist movement over other Jewish organizations was thus effectively recognized. In general, an attempt was made to grant world Jewry a feeling of participation in return for material and political support, while preventing their participation in overall decision-making and delegitimizing any attempt at converting the resources of world Jewry into political power within the State of Israel. Most world Jewish groups also apparently agreed that such con- version cannot be justified, realizing that only the citizens and elected representatives of the State of Israel, as a sovereign and democratic state, have the legitimate right to make decisions. Even so prestigious and influential a Zionist and Jewish leader as Nahum Goldmann did not succeed in changing this situation. This structural situation undoubtedly bears many latent points of tension, whether actual or potential. Moreover, these checks and balances cannot persist on a long-term basis, as groups interested in altering the situation have arisen in each system. The first overt confrontation between the declared policy of Israel and the positions of most delegates to the Zionist

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Congress was manifested publicly at the 30th Congress (Jerusalem, March, 1983) regarding issues of Jewish settlement in the occupied territories. Decisions taken at this Congress, proposed by the Opposition (the Labor movement), accorded priority to settlement of sparsely-populated areas (in the Territories), the Negev, the Galilee and the Aravaas well as to Project Renewalover settlement elsewhere in the Territories. It is not clear how these decisions actually affected allocation of the Zionist movement's resources. While high-level influence of Jewish and even Zionist organizations on Israel's internal and external policies is most limited, the system of mutual relations among the various groups and strata within the two centers is far more complex. The first groups to grasp and wield influenceeach in its own sectorwere apparently the non-Zionist and even anti-Zionist orthodox groups. These groups effectively continued the traditional ties between the rabbinic dynasties of Boro Park and Williamsburg and the ultra-orthodox Talmudical seminaries of Israel. Here as well, relations were not symmetric: settlement in Israel was accorded some symbolic advantage, but the communities in Israel were peripheral not only because they were supported but also because most of the great rabbinic authorities and their followers resided in the United States. The more that religious Judaismand even part of ultra-orthodox Judaismbegan to move towards the center of Israel's political and social map (Kimmerling, 1985), the greater their skill in recruiting supporters in the United States to reinforce their political position within the Israeli system. Along with this, however, they forced the State of Israel into the internal struggles of American Jewry, especially the conflicts between the various religious movements (orthodox vs. Conservative and Reform), intensifying internal struggles within the Israeli system as well (primarily concerning problems of "Halachic conversion," or deciding who is responsible for determining the boundaries of the collectivity and conditions and methods for expelling or accepting its members). The American orthodox movement attempts to use the monopolistic status of orthodoxy in Israelwhich also includes religious Zionist factions (originally: Mizrachi and Hapoel Hamizrachi)as a bargaining card to obtain an advantage in local American Jewish struggles and delegitimize other movements in Israel in exchange for de facto recognition of "Zionist" Israel, with the active assistance of orthodox and even ultra-orthodox groups therein. As such, various groups within this American movement also adopt positions regarding debatable policy issues in Israel in spheres not directly concerning the status of religion and state. For example, many American Jews are known for their uncompromising positions in the Israel-Arab conflict and have attempted to influence the Israeli system in this sphere as well. This phenomenon, too, apparently

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constitutes part of an internal struggle within the American community. The orthodox movement's monopolistic position in Israel also affects the selection process in the trickle of immigration in the reverse directionfrom the American center to the Israeli one: an increasing percentage of immigrants from the United States to Israel comes from orthodox circles. Avruch (1981) discovered a process which he calls "traditionalization," namely the adoption of a religious-traditional Jewish identity even among relatively secular immigrants in their transition from the United States to Israel. Non-Zionist (and even local Zionist) organizations in the United States generally do not require the Jewish Agency's "mediation" for operation, recruitment of support or application of influence. They maintain institutions and offices in Israel, including tools for publicity and public relations aimed primarily at the Israeli elite. Under such conditions, we may expect some spillover and blurring of boundaries between the two centers, as more of the internal struggles and schisms of each is reflected in the other (although not always with the same form, context or significance). Various segments of social and political components in each of the centers will attempt to recruit supporters within the other center to reinforce the bargaining positions of each within its own system. Certain ethnic groups (Orientals of Sephardim), religious groups (including the Conservative and Reform movements as well as the orthodox) and political factions and movements (both left and right, as well as "Peace Now") have already attempted to obtain material, political and "moral" support, each among its potential community of supporters, within the alternative system, thus increasing the likelihood of convergence between the two centers. Hints at public acceptance of this situation were also discovered in Smith's public opinion polls: 60% of a sample of American Jews believed that American Jewish organizations have the right to criticize the Israel Government and its policies publicly, whereas only 45% of a parallel Israeli sample concurred. However, when the Israelis were divided between supporters and opponents of the (Likud) Government, it emerged that 34% of the former and 61% of the latter assented to intervention by American organizations. On the other hand, the American Jewish community is perceived by Israel as increasingly expressive of its views. On the other hand, Israeli interest groups hope to gain support for their own positions among American Jewry (Smith, 1983). This development apparently reflects a change in opinions among each of the two polities. Concluding Remarks: Or the Question of Critical Mass According to an arrogant Israeli joke, after the so-called "six day war," "the situation was never so goodthe Americans send us arms, the Sovi-

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ets send us Jews, and the Arabs build the country." This expression reflects several dimensions of the problematics of Israeli and Jewish existance which were dealt with in this chapter, and which will be discussed in more detail in the concluding chapter of the book. The aims of this last section are not only to draw some conclusions from the proceeding description and argumentation, but also to make sharp and explicit another fundamental problem of both systemsthe Israeli state and American Jewrynamely the question of the critical mass. Small may be beautiful, and under certain circumstances it may have some advantagesif it is a part of a much larger entity. There is no doubt that the most scarce societal resource is human abilities and skills, which have a "normal distribution" in every society. That does not mean only that the larger a collectivity, the greater the likelihood of including skilled and capable human resources, and that in order to maintain a continuously developing, vital, and creative society, a critical mass of people is needed. The major societal needs and goalse.g., to maintain a good quality of government and life, of the educational system, science, research, high technology, military ability, an economy which is able to answer domestic requirements and compete in the world-system, and maintain a vital "cultural life"are in a zero sum situation. The ability to create "correct priorities" is important, as a necessary but not as a suficient condition. If one has to choose between guns and butter, and after making the best choice one does not have enough resources to take care of his next priority as well, even on a minimal level, the entire system will develop tendencies toward more and more mediocrity. It will be one of no butter without guns, and guns without butter. Israeli society is a small society. This characteristic is made more striking by the exclusion, for political, ideological, cultural and religious reasons of ultra-Orthodox observant Jews and the Arabs (see next chapter) from the social boundaries of this society. It is impossible to specify the precise scope of the "numbers" which are needed in order to form the "critical mass" which remains a vital and innovative society, or any society, under the circumstances in which Israeli society has to exist. One of the roots of the evidentally decreasing capability of the Israeli social system to cope with problems is probably its approaching this critical mass. This tendency is reinforced by Israel's ceasing to be a country of active mass immigration, and its increasing external and internal security needs. Even without refering to the problem of critical mass, Horowitz and Lissak (in a forthcoming book) conclude that Israeli society is an overloaded system, because it has to fulfil too many societal goals simultaneously. There are no objective reasons to predict a substantial change in the size of the Israeli-Jewish society, since there are no reasons to predict funda-

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mental changes in the patterns of Jewish migration in the world and in their world-wide sociopolitical position. That means that, contrary to some mystical-messianic hopes, Israeli society will remain basically a small society. In this system "the question of numbers" will continue to be its greatest challenge, not only in relation to the "demographic balance" between the Jews and Arabs in general and the Palestinians in particular, but as a more general existential problem. The very existence of a strong Jewish center in North America and the blurring of the boundaries with this center and other Jewish diasporas, was supposed to overcome, at least partially, this acute "question of numbers," 1 and to avoid a decline similar to that which befell the Crusaders' Kingdom of Jerusalem when it cut off its relations with the Christian hinterland. On first glance, the maintainance of a critical mass is not a problem of the American Jewish center. They do not aim at running a "complete society," as the Israelis do. The American Jews may be concentrated in several places in their highly achievement-oriented society, and through this concentration they may increase their political and societal power. But, as was demonstrated above, several trends challenge the very existence of the American Jewish center (if not the individual Jews themselves), and some of these trends are connected with other aspects of the "critical mass" problem: (1) the continuous increase of the geographical disperson leads to the decreasing power of the Jews in important centers (e.g., New York City) despite the formation of the new metropolitan center in Los Angeles. (2) the increase of intermarriage, and the obvious departure of the third and fourth generations from the Jewish hold, especially the offsprings of mixed couples, pose several "questions of numbers" to this Jewish entity, too, and put it in a competition and conflict of interests with the Zionist idea and Israel. A similar internal contradiction in Zionismthe need for a complete "negation of the Galut" but at the same time a complete dependence on itexists in the American Jewish center as well. A vast majority of the North American Jews identify themselves as "Zionists" as a part of their collective identity as American Jews, but at the same time they totally ignore the basic imperative of Zionismthe duty of "Aliya." Even if the majority of American Jews do not tend explicitly to accept the extreme formulation of the "negation of Zion," as do intellectuals like Jacob Neusner,2 and do not accept a complete detachment from the Israeli state and Zionism, as is evidenced by the ultra-Orthodox Jews, their de-facto behavior implies that. This ''Neusnerism" only reflects reality, and in the long run may bring to it more legitimation and a new respectability. This will be in fact the restoration of the pre-second world war situation when America was seen as the only Promised Land for the Jews too. Paradoxically, these separatist tendencies may accelerate the decline of North America as a Jewish center.

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At the present time we may characterize the processes taking place within this limited framework as institutionalization and mutual legitimization as well as de-legitimization between the two entities defined as "centers." The permanent built-in conflicts between the centers continuously define and redefine the status of each center vis-à-vis the other. Each will continue to be dependent on the other, without the ability to accept this dependence. The two systems are becoming increasingly interconnected, too, primarily through reciprocal ties between particularistic interest groups. This reciprocal involvement intensifies the respective centers' internal conflicts and schisms, as well as their mutual dependency on the group level. Such dependency simultaneously increases the processes of convergence and divergence between the two centers. The material and ideological dependence of the Israeli state on the diaspora avoids the creation of a separate "Israeli nation," which Klatzkin (1921) foresaw as resulting from the mandatory assimilation of the Jews in the diaspora. The strong past connection with the diaspora also bars the adoption of a "Canaanite," or alternatively a more "civil," model for the Israeli collectivity (Kimmerling, 1983). The fact that the diaspora has ceased to be a reservoir of substantial immigration (which began in fact with the destruction of the East European Jewish center), and the possible decline of material and political support from the North American center, along with the continuation of the present territorial status quo, could lead toward a slow decomposition of the Israeli state, or a fundamental transformation of its basic characteristics (e.g., its becoming a bi-national state, thanks to which, with or without a long bloodshed and struggles among Jews as well as between Arabs and Jews, the Jews may lose their political predomination over the country; or, according to another scenario, the crystallization of herrnvolk-style polity in which most of the political power will be concentrated in the Jewish hands). As for the counter-partnerthe North American centerextrapolation of recent trends leads to the conclusion that the modern, pluralistic, tolerant, and relatively free world, even in its American version, seemingly does not encourage, in the long run, the persistence of particularistic ethnic groups. After all, what looks like a nightmare for many American and Israeli Jews, and as a "personal (or even collective) and natural solution of the Jewish problem" for many others, 3 namely slow but progressive assimilation into the wide society, is consistent with one of the major trends occurring right now. The dependency on Israel may only slow down this process, but could accelerate it in the future, as the contrasting interests between "Zion" and "Alexandria" will sharpen. The evaluation of these perspectives, or the continuation of the very existence of the Jewish people, in "positive" or "negative" terms, are beyond our purpose, being valueloaded ethical problems. The

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possible incremental decline of the North American Jewish center, together with the problem of the critical mass, could be one of the triggers for structural and ideological changes in Israeli society and its transformation into something totally different from its initial identity. These changes are already in progress. Notes 1. Two additional factors which play most significant roles have not been introduced into this analysis except incidentally, despite their recognized importance: (a) The Jewish "periphery," i.e. all the Jews and Jewish communities (many of which are very large, such as those of France, Argentina, or the Soviet Union, in which there is a critical mass and whichfrom the numerical standpoint alonecould constitute a "center" in itself, an idea which may not have been entirely alien to the founding fathers of the Soviet-Union), situated outside of the two entities defined "center." (b) The non-Jewish world, which is defined as "external" to this system but which wields great and sometimes decisive influence on it nonetheless. Elements of this varied world include the Palestinian and the Arab partners in the Israeli-Arab conflict, the American political and social system (which was accorded some coverage), the social system of the West, the third world, etc. The Palestinian factor will be included in the analysis of the concluding chapter. These omissions are not rooted by any way in a Judeo-centric approach of the author, but in the subject itself. 2. As an example of Neusner's approach, one may quote the following paragraph: "... then a person can be a Jew anywhere in the world where people are free to be whatever they want ... So, yes, 'next year in Jerusalem,' when the Messiah comes ... But until then, I think Providence [in U.S.] is just fine." (Newday, April 12, 1987). 3. We must not forget that the initial solution of the "Jewish problem," as proposed by Theodor Herzl himself, was a collective conversion of all the Jews to their respective societies' religions, and that every time in history the leaving of the boundaries of Jewry was possible in the host societies, this was one of the major Jewish options. References Aran, Gideon. 1986. "From Religious Zionism to Zionist Religion: The Roots of Gush Emunim." In Peter Y. Medding (ed.) Studies in Contemporary Jewry: II. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, pp. 116143. Avruch, K. 1981. American Immigrants in Israel: Social Identities and Change. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

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Bachi, Roberto. 1982. "Diaspora Population: Past Growth and Present Decline," The Jerusalem Quarterly, 22:316. Bellah, R. 1979. Beyond Belief. New York: Harper and Row. Bogardus, Emory S. 1928. American Modernity and Jewish Identity. New York and London: Tavistock Publications. Cuddihy, John M. 1974. The Ordeal of Modernity: Freud, Marx, Levi-Strauss and the Jewish Struggle with Modernity. New York: Basic Books. Davie, Maurice R. 1936. World Immigration: With Special Reference to the United States. New York: Macmillan. DellaPergola, S. 1986. "Aliya and Other Jewish Migrations: Toward an Integrated Perspective," in U.O. Schmeltz and G. Natan (eds.) Scripta Hierosolymitana: Studies in the Population of IsraelIn Honor of Roberto Bachi. Jerusalem: Magnes Press. Edelman, Joseph. 1983. "The Centenary of Jewish Immigration to the United States,": 18811981," Judaism, 32:215229. Eisenstadt, S.N. 1985. The Transformation of Israeli Society. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson. Etzioni, Amitai. 1965. Political Unification: A Comparative Study of Leaders and Forces. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. Fisher, A.M. 1983. "The National Gallup Polls and American Jewish Demography," American Jewish Yearbook, 83:120137. Fuchs, Lawrence H. 1956. Political Behavior of American Jews. Glencoe, Ill: The Free Press. Gitelman, Zvi. 1977. "Soviet Emigrants: Why Are They Choosing America?" Soviet Jewish Affairs, 7:3146. . 1982. "Soviet Immigrant Resettlement in the United States." Soviet Jewish Affairs, 12:318. Glazer, N. and D.P. Moynihan. 1963. Beyond the Melting Pot: The Negroes, Puerto Ricans, Jews, Italians, and Irish of New York City. Cambridge, Mass: the MIT Press. Goldberg, S. P. 1968. The American Jewish Community: Its Structure, Role and Organizations. New York: Women's American ORT Community Service Publications. Goldscheider, Kelvin. 1985. Jewish Continuity and Change: Emerging Patterns in America. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Goldstein, Sidney. 1981. "The Jews in the United States: Perspectives from Demography," American Jewish Yearbook 81:359.

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Halpern, Ben. 1974. "America is Different," in M. Sklare (ed.) The American Jewish Society. New York: Behrman House, pp. 6789. Handlin, Oscar. 1954. Adventure in Freedom. New York: McGraw-Hill. Huntington, Samuel P. 1981. American Politics: The Promise of Disharmony. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. Kass, Drora and Seymour Martin Lipset. 1979. "Israelis in Exile," Commentary, November, pp. 6872. Katz, Jacob. 1982. "Situating Zionism in Contemporary Jewish History," Forum, 44:924. Kimmerling, Baruch. 1985. "Between the Primordial and the Civil Definitions of Collective Identity: Eretz Israel or the State of Israel?" in E. Cohen, M. Lissak and U. Almagor (eds.) Comparative Social Dynamics: Essays in Honor of S.N. Eisenstadt. Boulder and London: Westview Press, pp. 262283. . 1985A. The Interrupted System: Israeli Civilians in War and Routine Times. New Brunswick N.J.: Transaction Books. . 1983. Zionism and Territory: The Socioterritorial Dimensions of Zionist Politics. Berkeley: Institute of International Studies, University of California. . 1983 A. Zionism and Economy. Cambridge, Mass.: Schenkman. Klatzkin, J. 1921. Krizis Und Endscheidung in Judentum. Berlin: Judischer Verlag. Kuhn, Thomas S. 1970. The Structure of Scientific Revolution. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Liebman, Charles S. 1978. "In Search of Status: The Israeli Government and the Zionist Movement," Forum, 2829:3856. Mannheim, Karl. 1936. Ideology and Utopia. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Michaeli, M. 1977. "Israel's Dependence on Capital Imports," The Jerusalem Quarterly, 3:4249. Rosten, Leo. 1968. The Joys of Yiddish. New York: McGraw-Hill. Schmelz, U.O. 1979. The Demographic Crisis of Diaspora Jewry. Background Paper No. 4. Jerusalem: Institute of Contemporary Jewry, Hebrew University. Schweid, Eliezer. 1980. "Elements of Zionist Ideology and Practice," in Moshe Davis (ed.) Zionism in Transition. New York: Herzel Press. pp. 235254.

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Shapiro, Yonathan. 1971. Leadership of the American Zionist Organization. Urbana, Ill: University of Illinois Press. Sheffer, Gabriel. 1984. "The Uncertain Future of American Jewry-Israel Relations," The Jerusalem Quarterly, 32:6580. Silberman, Charles E. 1985. A Certain People: American Jews and Their Lives Today. New York: Summit Books. Sklare, Marshall. 1971. America's Jews. New York and Toronto: Random House. Sklare, M. and J. Greenblum. 1979. Jewish Identity on the Suburban Frontier. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. (second edition) Sklare, M., J. Greenblum and B. Ringer. 1969. Not Quite at Home: How an American Jewish Community Lives with Itself and its Neighbours. New York: Institute of Human Relations. Smith, Hanoch. 1983. Attitudes of Israelis Towards America and American Jews. Jerusalem: The American Jewish Committee. (mimeo) Teller, Judd L. 1968. Stranger and Natives. New York: Delacorte. Theilhaber, F. A. 1911. Der Untergang Der Deutscen Juden. Berlin: Judischer Verlag. Waxman, Chaim I. 1983. America's Jews in Transition. Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Yankelovich, Skelly and White. 1981. Anti-Semitism in the United States in the 1980's. Prepared for the American Jewish Committee (mimeo) (Published in Hebrew in Tefutsot Israel, Vol. 21, No. 2, 1983, pp. 542). Zaslavsky, V. and R.J. Brym. 1983. Soviet-Jewish Emigration and Soviet Nationality Policy. London and Basingstoke: The Macmillan Press.

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10 Boundaries and Frontiers of the Israeli Control System: Analytical Conclusions* Baruch Kimmerling This collection together with most recent studies and analyses of Israel by social scientists (both Israelis and nonIsraelis), has raised a basic question: Can the Jewish nation-state, founded in 1948 as a civil and democratic state based on Western states' and societies' premises, still be said to exist? The problem was formulated in the Preface regarding the extent of continuity between two periods: before and after the 1967 war. Is the Israeli state of the late 1980s the same entity that existed in the 1960s or even the 1970s, or has it become something else? The question does not concern the pace and scope of social change alone, nor is it merely a reformulation of Heraclitus's obvious statement that "it is not possible to step twice into the same river." Rather, the question is whether that very river exists at all. One possible answer (see, for example, Shapiro, 1977; Eisenstadt, 1985; Horowitz and Lissak, forthcoming) declares that the basic features of the Israeli state and society have definitely been preserved. The Israeli center, in the Shilsian sense of the term (Shils, 1975), has undergone several changes, but no alternative centers or competing subcenters have developed to challenge it. The addition of the occupied territories and their population has certainly created enormous difficulties and fostered disintegrative processes for & Israeli polity, but both the territories and their inhabitants remain external or exogenic factors, even for Smooha (1978), who views the situation from a "pluralistic" perspective. The two communities (i.e. the Is*The author gratefully acknowledges the useful comments of Sarit Heilman and Dan Horowitz, as well as the assistance of Jon Simons.

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raelis and the Palestinians of the West Bank and Gaza Strip) share no common value system, loyalties or collective identity. Continuation of the occupation is self-destructive, as it tends to increase internal cleavages and endangers the security of the Jewish nation-state in the long run. Implicitly, this situation is still reversible, depending on appropriate government policy or the system's decision-making capabilities. This approach is center-oriented and does not consider the emergence of a completely new periphery in its own frame of reference. We contend that not only the formation of new or competing sub-centers but also the inclusion of new peripheries may constitute possible break points in the "continuity" of a social system. The absorption of Oriental Jews in the 1950s and 1960s, as well as the process of incorporation of the territories since 1967, constitute basic disruptions in the continuity of the so-called "social system." In other words, the scope and character of the periphery and its relations with the center shape the entire system no less than the center's own stability or change. When a historian or sociologist analyzes the Greek polis or Italian city-state, shall he or she consider only the free citizens of these polities or the entire system, including the peripheries of women, servants, slaves and strangers who lack all political rights? As indicated below, the basic question concerns where and how one places the demarcation lines between diverse social and political entities. In fact, the proposed paradigm for analysis of "Israeli realities" questions the very existence of a "state" in its conventional sense, analyzing the system as a "control system" in which a state exists (the "State of Israel"). However, elements added to this state have changed its nature in several significant respects (Kimmerling, 1985:174176). A "control system" is a territorial entity comprising several sub-collectivities, held together by purely military and police forces and their civil extensions (e.g., bureaucracies and settlers). When the "field of power" is much larger than the "field of authority" (as coined by Horowitz, 1982), a control system is formed. These sub-collectivities are stratified according to their ability to gain access to force, political power and diverse rights, but mostly according to the shared benefits of the entire system. Any situation of armed occupation (but no more than that) is a temporary control system. The central component differentiating between situations such as internal colonialism, deeplydivided societies, the Soviet "satellite" system, slave-based societies etc. and the control system is the ruling sector's virtually total lack of interest and ability in creating a common identity or basic value system to legitimize its use of violence to maintain the system, or in developing other kinds of loyalties toward force and power. Nevertheless, at the same time, the control system must ensure that none of the "controlled collectivities" develop any alternative centers, sub-

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centers or institutional formulations within its "field of power." Orientation towards the "controlled" population is purely instrumental. Thus, in exchange for its readiness to be incorporated partially into a common economy and maintain a minimal obedience to the authorities, the rulers grant these collectivities minimal human rights and guarantee "law and order," so long as these privileges are not perceived as contradicting the interests of the system's ruling sector. In the control system's frame of reference, the system's raison d'être and legitimacy are only created "internally," as formulated by the ruling sector. One significant characteristic of the control system is its ability to maintain two contradictory trends: selective incorporation and absorption of several parts of a totally different collectivity and simultaneous total "externalization" of all this collectivity's other components. This engenders a dual value system, characterized by totally different rules of the game, cultures and institutional arrangements applied in different spheres of activity for various components of the control system. To clarify discussion and analysis of the concept of control system and the case study presented and to render this study more useful, we present and elucidate two additional complementary analytical terms: boundary and frontier. Boundaries and Frontiers All social systems are characterized by various types of demarcation lines, determined by the applicable "rules of the game," if any. These lines define the boundaries between various sets of rules or perhaps even separate a region in which rules of the game obtain from those in which none apply. If we were to draw a social map, analogous to a geographic one, of a given collectivity, assigning each delineator its own color, we would produce a multi-colored map with many lines, some overlapping and others criss-crossing. The two most interesting categories of delineators (themselves each divided into several types) are apparently boundaries vs. frontiers. This distinction raises several interesting questions concerning the reciprocal relations between frontiers and boundaries which have not been given systematic attention by sociologists so far. For example, when, how and according to whom does a boundary become a frontier and vice versa? This concluding chapter has a dual purpose: to initiate discussion about these two concepts and the relations between them and to use the concepts to summarize several of the key phenomena discussed in this collection. Geographic boundaries, like social boundaries, separate an entity from "external elements" which are defined by the boundaries themselves and constitute a necessary condition for the maintenance of a given collectivity's "internallyoriented" identity. Social boundaries define "us" and "them"

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and their respective positions vis-á-vis one another. If they separate groups of people, social boundaries may be less traversable than geopolitical ones, even when the latter are reinforced by physical obstacles (e.g. mountains, rivers, seas or minefields and electrified barbed wire fences). It is apparently far less difficult to penetrate the Iron Curtain (which has its social aspects as well) and pass from East to West than it is to change from the status of "black" in the United States (and a fortiori in South Africa) to that of white, from Protestant to Catholic and vice versa in Northern Ireland, or from Arab to Jew (and certainly vice versa) in Israel. Social boundaries, which are often also cultural, political, economic, stratificational, religious, ethnic, national or a combination thereofdiffer in permeability 1 or traversability. For example, it is easier to join the American nation as a white person than as an individual or group of alternative racial originalthough the latter case is not impossible. In contrast, it is virtually impossible to become part of the Japanese or Chinese nation if you are not of the same race, but a Japanese can become an American, or "almost entirely American." Boundaries which originate in primordial (racial and ethnic), religious and national differences are less permeable, sometimes even utterly barring entry to or exit from the collectivity,2 in contrast to social boundaries which are economically, stratificationally, educationally or even culturally-based. Eliza Doolittle (as an individual and the group she represents), could cross the line, not only in Pygmalion, and join Higgins' collectivity; Huckleberry Finn had the opportunity to do so as well, had he remained under the widow Douglas's tutelage. Uncle Tom, however, would have had to retain his "special place" as a black to this day, even if his economic and social status, both absolute and perhaps even relative to other groups, improved significantly. The concept of frontier, as coined by Frederick Jackson Turner (1928), constitutes the opposite of boundaries or barriers in many respects. Originally, "frontier" meant an unlimited amount of soil or territorial space open to settlers moving westward (on the North American continent), extending infinitely like the endless horizon. All European colonies in Asia, Africa and Oceania likewise constituted territorial frontiers for white settler-immigrants.3 Gradually, however, the concept became more generalized, incorporating more and more social, political and economic situations; eventually, any non-scarce but coveted unexploited resource could be defined and perceived as a frontier. Thus, we speak not only of the "New Frontier" (replacing the old territorial frontier whose bounds have been reached) but also seek new frontiers in science, technology, philosophy and even religion. The connotation of "frontier" is usually positive, representing an extension of an individual or collectivity, whereas "boundary" may have either positive or negative content. A priori implicit or explicit de-

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termination of a collectivity's boundaries and frontiers by social scientists may have far-reaching ramifications on the entire problemstellung and consequently affect research conclusions and results as well. The Boundaries of the Israeli Control System The territorial boundaries of that which we term the ''Israeli control system" include the following elements: The original area of the State of Israel, according to the armistice lines drawn up in the Rhodes Agreements (signed between February 1. and July 1949) and determined by the outcome of the 1948 war; 2. territories added to this control system as a result of the 1967 war, except for those (in the Sinai Peninsula) returned to Egypt following the Israel-Egypt Peace Agreement, 4 which were not annexed to Israel; 3. territories taken by Israel in the 1967 war in which Israeli law was formally imposed (primarily East Jerusalem and environs and the Golan Heights). There is a threefold division of population within this overall control system, of which the principal ones (according to socio-political status) are: Jewish citizens or permanent residents of the State of Israel who reside within the pre-1967 war borders of the state,5 known as the 1. "Green Line" (after the color of the armistice lines as they appeared on maps). According to recent statistics, this population totals about 3.4 million (Israel, 1985). This includes the Jewish citizens of the State of Israel who reside in territories acquired in the 1967 war in which Israeli law has not been imposed, numbering about 65,000.6 Israeli law applies to these individuals as if they were residents of the State of Israel proper. They constitute an extension of the control system. 2. Arab citizens of the State of Israel who reside in areas which were under Israeli control before the 1967 war. This population, which has increased from 160,000 in 1948 to about 725,000 by the late 1980s, enjoys, at least de jure, most of the rights accorded to all other Israeli citizens. 3. Arabs considered subjects of the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan or stateless refugees7 residing in the occupied territories, numbering approximately 1.3 million. This population has lived under military rule since 1967.

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The boundaries of the Israeli control system thus contain about two million non-Jews and nearly 3.5 million Jews. The term "Israeli control system," which includes the occupied territories and their residents, constitutes a significant innovation in Israeli sociology, which since 1967 has refused to analyze Israeli society as a unified system comprising residents of the territories as well. 8 Initial analyses of Yishuv society and its Israeli successor (e.g. Eisenstadt, 1967 and 1985; Horowitz and Lissak, 1977; or Shapiro, 1977) analyzed this system solely within the local "Jewish bubble." In Israeli sociology, the ultimate boundaries of the collectivity were the Jewish settlers. Thus the analysis and explanation of all Yishuv processes ignored interaction with the Arab community, with the British Mandate authorities and even with the external Jewish world, except for influx of material resources. Subsequently, this inattention to the Arab community was utterly rejected by Svirski (1979) and Kimmerling (e.g. 1979, 1983a), who claimed that only an alternative joint Jewish-Arab system suffices to explain processes which took place in the Jewish and Arab communities, respectively. Israeli social scientists still differ, however, regarding the location of these boundaries. Eisenstadt (1985:358, 360), for example, well aware of the existence of an Israeli control system, discerns a trend of militarization, yet avoids deriving systematic conclusions regarding the overall transformation of this society engendered by redefinition of its boundaries. Residents of the occupied territories are treated as exogenous to the Israeli system and the erosion in Israeli democracy is attributed to a decline in tolerance of minority opinions within the Jewish population. In the second chapter of this volume, Dan Horowitz bridges between these two approaches, using the conceptual framework applying to "deeply-divided societies." On the one hand, he notes the existence of a joint system and a boundary uniting the two communities, defined as "society," whereas on the other hand the boundary separating the two components is deep and of low permeability. Its depth is assessed according to the considerable overlap of culture, language, ethnic and national origin, perceived interests and collective identity within each community, accompanied by the maintenance of separate armed forces for each of the two collectivities. On the other hand, application of communal policies compelled the two sides (at least until 1936) not only to maintain instrumental interchange (primarily in the economic sphere) but even to support the existence of an overall common system. Applying Migdal's terminology, we note that there were two boundaries applied to rule-making during the pre-State period:

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Two internal, information systems in the Arab and Jewish communities, respectively; 1. 2. A system of external rule-making, extraction and redistribution of resources via the British Mandate authorities. The British Mandate authorities applied relatively few rules and consequently possessed considerable implementative capabilities (except for the period of the riots, the Arab Revolt of 19361939 and the Jewish Revolt following World War II). However, the Arab and Jewish communities differed from one another regarding enforcement of rules within their respective boundaries. The Jewish community excelled in rule enforcement and successfully mobilized its members for communal missions (see Horowitz and Lissak, 1978). In contrast, among the Arabs, a far greater gap prevailed between rule-making on the one hand and rule enforcement and mobilization of members of the collectivity on the other (see Porath, 1974 and 1977). Even after achievement of sovereignty, the State of Israel undoubtedly maintained one of the world's highest mobilization potentials insofar as its Jewish members were concerned, as well as an impressive enforcement record, especially regarding national security. Nevertheless, the state has not succeeded in gaining control over all social systems. Many parallel, competing systems remained after independence was attained, while others emerged and flourished subsequently, as pointed out by Ben-Yehuda in this anthology. Apparently, there is a permeable and highly diffuse boundary between the legal and the illegal, as evident in the reinforcement of society vis-á-vis the state. From the establishment of the State of Israel until 1967, the boundaries between Arabs and Jews underwent a process of simplification. Israel was a Jewish nation-state, with an Arab minority within its socio-political boundaries, aspiring to enforce its rules exclusively (Lustick, 1980). Erik Cohen's comparison of the socio-political behavior of the Moslem minorities of Thailand and Israel shows that the political culture in Israel, in contrast to that of Thailand, was capable of developing a new boundary which succeeded in transcending religious, ethnic and national boundaries via the secular concept of Israeli citizenship, thereby preventing all irredentist aspirations among Israeli Arabs. The concept of citizenship is far more significant for the Arab component of the Israeli collectivity than it is for the Jewish one, as it enables them to participate in it. For the Jews, however, the boundaries of this collectivity are generally defined through participation in the primordial Jewish entity, which obviously excludes the Arabs. Tension between these civil and primordial definitions of the collectivity constitute a constant stress on the system. Arabs living within the secular boundaries of the State

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of Israel are entitled to exploit universalist rules to make demands and attain achievements, a phenomenon which Buddhism precluded for the Thai majority. Even in Israel, however, this possibility has been on the wane since the 1967 war (Friedlander and Goldscheider, 1984), as the boundaries of the collectivity tend to be defined in religious and primordial terms, as indicated by both Erik Cohen and Menachem Friedman (for a more thorough discussion, see Kimmerling, 1985a). Especially interesting are the findings of Greenbaum and his colleagues, who indicate that children at an early stage of socialization (ages 910) are capable of applying rule-making concepts following the basic assumptions of formal democracy, such as majority rule (irrespective of the make-up of this majority) and minority rights. Some children apparently lose this ability as their socialization progresses, depending on their host political culture. In another context, Shalev applies civil rather than primordial terms to define the boundary between state and society. He notes that the Histadrut (Israel's Labor Federation, a monopolistic union) sometimes constitutes an extension of society towards Arab workers, inclusively defining the collectivity's boundaries, acting as an agent of the state and finally redefining the collectivity's scope to include the Arab population, at least in the labor force. In this context, we should recall the marked interdependence between the Arab and Jewish systems in the occupied territories. About 150,000 residents of the territories are employed in Israel and thousands more work for Jewish economic enterprises in the territories and the Military and Civil Administrations. About 90% of imports in the territories, if one considers the flow of goods between different components of the control system in import-export terms, come from Israel (valued at about $700 million) and about 70% of exports are directed towards Israel (about $200 million annually) (Eldar, 1987). Homogeneity vs. Pluralism Inclusion of the occupied territories within the boundaries of the Israeli control system and the routinization of this situation have far-reaching ramifications for redefinition of many delineators of the Israeli system. First, the inclusion of 1.3 million additional Arab residents significantly altered the situation of Oriental (Asian/African) Jews in the system. Until 1967, as described in the chapter of Judith Shuval, the Orientals were perceived (and perhaps even perceived of themselves) as traditional and their acceptance into Israeli society demanded a process of "Ashkenazation" (i.e. an attempt to resemble the population of Eastern European origin as closely as possible). The gradual introduction of a new, large component into the bound-

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aries of the system, i.e. the residents of the occupied territories, created a new "inferior caste" situated below the Orientals in the stratificational system. 9 Thus, the Orientals achieved group mobility: Orientals immediately rose from the lower to the middle class. 1. 2. The marked rise in the Arab population demanded reemphasis of the collectivity's Jewish character, which constituted the common denominator between Ashkenazim and Orientals while excluding the Arabs (Israeli citizens and residents of the occupied territories alike) from the symbolic boundaries of the collectivity. Jewish identity, which had always constituted the dominant common denominator between Ashkenazim and Orientals, now increased its significance. Cultural pluralism is impossible in such a system, as structural changes are perceived as cleavage within the Jewish component, whose participation in the collectivity was rendered more contingent on primordial Jewish identity than on Israeli civil identity. This accords an advantage to the more traditional Orientals and to religious sectors (even the ultra-Orthodox), linked on the political level via the new Shas (Torah-Observant Oriental) Party. Within the framework of the boundaries of the control system, the significance of the civil state decreases and becomes less relevant to more and more of the population. The decline in ambivalent attitudes towards the state in religious circles, as developed by Menachem Friedman, concomitantly reduces the scope of the dilemma regarding primordial components of the collective identity, granting an edge to the "primordial society" over the state and its institutions. The lower the significance attached to the State of Israel, the better the position of the collectivity's traditional elements, producing a decivilization of the Jewish system and an increase in the power of movements preaching return to the Orthodox way of life. Redefinition not only of "who is a Jew" and "who is a convert" (a process described by both Shuval and Kimmerling) but also of "who is a religious Jew'' is an integral part of redefinition of the boundaries of the entire control system. 3. The principal beneficiaries of the cheap (because of the vast supply: see chapter by Shalev) and largely unskilled Arab labor force from the territories were primarily Oriental entrepreneurs. They had a marginal advantage in small enterprises (Yaar, 1985) and absorbed a considerable part of this labor force, which did not suit more sophisticated factories and services. Absorption of the population of the occupied territories within the Is-

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raeli control system thus primarily improved the relative status of the Orientals in their relations with Ashkenazim. However, this process also intensified the latent tendency among Orientals to stress differences between themselves and the Arabs. This development may provide a partial explanation of the complex syndrome of extremist political views adopted by much of Israel's Oriental population, i.e. opposition to returning the territories and their residents, accompanied by demonstrations of hate and intolerance towards Arabs in general and inhabitants of the territories in particular. This combination of interest will apparently continue to motivate their support for the party of Meir Kahane, which indeed reflects feeling of hate, a sense of ethnocentric superiority and emphasis on Jewishness. Yet his party also preaches mass expulsion which, from a stratificational point of view, might reconcentrate Orientals in the lower strata. Below, we demonstrate how Ashkenazic elements benefit from another aspect involved in delineation of the Israeli control system's boundaries. The Frontiers The frontiers of the Israeli control system likewise change considerably from group to group and time to time. Two types of frontiers apparently prevail: The various Jewish diasporas and exiles, which constitute an extension of the Jewish collectivity and the Jewish 1. national state. Every Jew, anywhere in the world, is considered a potential citizen of the State of Israel (according to the Law of Return) on the one hand and a political ally and economic supporter of the system on the other (see chapter by Kimmerling). 2. The territorial frontier of the occupied territories, primarily the "West Bank" (formerly part of the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan), also known as "Judea and Samaria." Territorial frontiers, i.e. those with settlement potential (see Kimmerling, 1983), should be distinguished from those designating an economic market which provides cheap labor, consumers and suppliers of complementary products for the original Israeli system (see Shalev). This frontier is largely reciprocal as the Jewish market serves as an economic frontier, even if asymmetric, for residents of the territories). It would be impossible to understand the Israeli system unless the Diaspora is considered a frontier of it. The State of Israel, even including the land and population of the occupied territories, is small by all standards.

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It lacks natural resources and, perhaps surprisingly for the Jewish State, does not excel in human resources either. Nevertheless, Israel does possess various features which place it, if not among the great powers, at least among the major European states. Not all these features stem from the maintenance of a Diaspora-frontier; some derive from Israel's military strength in the region and from its image as a nuclear power. Yet even bearing this in mind, many of the gaps between Israel's physical dimensions and institutional structure undoubtedly originate in the Jewish Diaspora, with which the Israeli system maintains most complex relations, some of which are described in the previous chapter. As a Zionist state (i.e. a Jewish nation-state), Israel was planned to absorb large sectors of the Jewish people and to constitute a nation of many millions of persons. Its entire institutional, political, cultural and value system was based on the assumption that the state would serve as an infrastructure for at least a majority of the Jewish people. However, some of these millions were destroyed in the Holocaust; some reside in the North American center and some in other countries. Most Jews developed alternative identities and found solutions other than that proposed by Zionism. The vast majority of surviving Jews apparently will not espouse the Zionist imperative and move to the Jewish State. Moreover, the strength and perhaps the very existence of the Israeli state seems to be contingent on a strong Diaspora, well-integrated in the local socio-political system, or even on the maintenance of a Jewish center competing with "Zion." American society is said to have suffered a great shock when the pioneers reached the West Coast and the Pacific Ocean and the frontier became a boundary. A similar shock appears to be emerging in Israeli society, as people realize that the boundary surrounding the Jewish people is only a frontier. The Israeli system must adjust to this new conception accordingly. Even if Israel does not attract mass Jewish immigration, 10 we may consider world Jewry, especially that of the North American center, as a frontier in several respects: An economic frontier, including the United States Administration's support for Israel (which we may easily assume would disappear 1. or at least differ in scope were it not for the influence of American Jews). Denied the ability to recruit support from and via the American Jewish center, the Israeli collectivity would be unable to survive or at least would be utterly different today. 2. Political support, primarily from the United States, through which Israel's political strength is intensified irrespective of its objective position on the international political map, as its own political culture is absorbed into that of the Diaspora host country. Politically, the

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United States tends to view Israel as an extension of American Jewry, thus rendering Israel a kind of ethnic frontier of the United States. However, American Jewry is not merely a "mobilized Diaspora" (cf. Armstrong, 1976) but also a subsystem, partially sharing boundaries with the overall system and competing with the State of Israel (which it is supposed to serve as a Diaspora for human resources and legitimization. Thus Israel does not depend on the United States in the conventional sense of the term precisely because of this partial absorption of the Israeli system into the American one, with the mediation of the Jewish ethnic unit. It suffices to recall that the North American Diaspora comprises about half the world's Jews, whereas only one-quarter reside in Israel.

From a classic Zionist point of view, that which became a frontier ought to have been a boundary for most of the Jews within it. Recognition of the "Exile" was problematic but always present; as time passed, it became increasingly clear that the system depends on the existence of the very "Exile" it negates (just as, incidentally, the secular state in general constitutes a frontier for the ultra-Orthodox system in Israel: see chapter by Friedman). Pressures then mounted to redefine the system's relations with the Diaspora, e.g. seeking to define the Diaspora as a frontier, although the term was never used explicitly. 11 Every frontier-related situation apparently has its own built-in tensions, including pressure to transform the frontier into a boundary. This is not always possible, thus entailing the option of excluding it from the collectivity without absolute control over its contents. It is this situation which prevails in the second component of the Israeli frontier, the occupied territories. The Occupied Territories as a Frontier Most of the original Zionist settlements in Israel were established in the territorial periphery of "Zion," i.e. in the coastal regions and valleys of Mandatory Palestine. Except for Jerusalem, most of the hilly regions, the site of the Biblical Kingdoms of Judea and Israel, were impenetrable to Jewish settlers (Kimmerling, 1983). Jews were essentially barred from purchasing land or establishing settlements there before the 1947/48 war. Even during the war, most of the core regions of the historic Land of Israel were not conquered by Jewish forces. This situation had theological implications not only among religious sectors, which could then view Israel as a "state of Jews" and not as a "Jewish State" (see Friedman), but also among non-religious Jewish elements for whom a civil definition of the Israeli state

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was available (see Kimmerling, 1985 and Cohen in this volume). The conquests of the 1967 war resulted in overlap between the boundaries of the Israeli control system and the theological "Land of Israel." Again, neither the religious nor the non-religious could ignore this complete return to the "Land of the Patriarchs," with its clear primordial connotations. Political and primarily demographic conditions at the time fostered a feeling of "internal siege" (accompanying the external one), precluding inclusion of the territories within the political boundaries of the State of Israel. In contrast, however, one could return to the settlement-oriented conception, viewing the control system's boundary not as a political boundary but rather as a frontier for both settlement and marketing (of labor, goods, etc.). The primary cleavage in the Israeli socio-political system since 1967, which partially overlaps other schisms (religious vs. non-religious, Orientals vs. Ashkenazim, educated vs. uneducated) concerns definition of the control system's delineators as a frontier, in contrast to a boundary. Three options were available: Situating the boundary to include the occupied territories; 1. 2. Repositioning the boundary to exclude most of these territories and especially their inhabitants; 3. Maintaining the status quo, i.e. continued extension of the system via the territorial frontier (Stone, 1982), and by military forces, as is well demonstrated by the 1987/88 Palestinian Rebellion. The first and third options are liable to lead to systematic expulsion of much of the Arab population of these territories of even Arab citizens of Israel. Such large-scale expulsion might become a real option under certain conditions, such as a marked increase in guerrilla warfare within the occupied territories and in Israel, combined with war between the regular forces of Arab states and Israel. The first option places an insoluble dilemma before the Israeli system: according full civil rights to residents of the territories (at least resembling those granted to Israeli Arabs) versus ultimate absorption within the system as residents with human rights but no civil rights. However, this option is unlikely because of anticipated severe international reactions (primarily that of the United States, on whose economic, political and military aid Israel depends for its immediate survival) and internal opposition by significant sectors of the Jewish population. Apparently, internal and international political realities alike are working in favor of the third option, but the very existence of other options and the inability to decide among them imposes constant tension within the system. Earlier, we noted the stratificational and ethnic results of including the population of the territories in the Israeli control system, indicating that Oriental strata would thus achieve stratificational mobilization. However, an in-

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vestigation of the ethnic origins of Jewish settlers in the territories, primarily those affiliated with the "Gush Emunim" movement, reveals that only 18% of them are of Oriental origin (Weisburd and Waring, 1985:185). Hence Oriental elements in the Israeli system benefit primarily from the market frontier, whereas Ashkenazim, as a social stratum, benefit from the territorial one (i.e. land for settlement). 12 However, it should be indicated that Orientals are well-represented in land dealership, brokerage and registration circles. Inclusion of the occupied territories in the Israeli economic system, with work divided between the two subeconomies, led to the development of mutual interdependence, with a clear division of functions between the two systems. This situation also induced certain stratificational changes in Palestinian society in the West Bank and to a certain extent in the Gaza Strip as well. Partial severance of the West Bank from Jordan and complete detachment of the Gaza Strip from Egypt had an adverse effect primarily on the traditional elite and affluent strata of these communities. Working in Israel placed relatively vast economic resources at the lower strata's disposal and weakened control by traditional elements. From this point of view, the demarcation line between the West Bank and Israel for the traditional and educated elite continued to constitute a boundary, whereas for the lower strata, who could find work in Israel, this line became an employment frontier. The Palestinians as Periphery The Israeli control system's uniqueness is rooted in the differentiation of the Israeli state's orientations towards the occupied territories and their Palestinian inhabitants. The territories are highly desirable as part of the primordial definition of the collectivity's boundary, as a land reservoir and as a space improving the state's strategic depth in the face of any possible military attack on the eastern front (Kimmerling, 1983). However, the inhabitants of the territories are undesirable for virtually the same reasons and acceptance of their de jure inclusion in the collectivity's boundaries in any form (either as full citizens of the state, like Israel Arabs, or as subjects or even "hewers of wood and drawers of water") is unacceptable. The best solution would be for these people to evaporate miraculously, especially after the 1987/88 Revolt in the occupied territories. As this is impossible, the system must hold on to the package deal of land and people, benefiting incidentally from this situation by using the cheap labor force and the Palestinian market for sale of Israeli products and services. For this reason, Israel uses the same demarcation line as a boundary for the population and a frontier for land. In the North American context, the mechanism was the same,

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but the Israelis cannot exterminate the Palestinians as the Americans did the Indians, for both moral and political reasons. In the late 1960s and the 1970s, Moshe Dayan, as Israel's Defense Minister and Foreign Minister, attempted to formulate a policy of "functional division" of control between Israel and Jordan. According to this policy, the Israelis were supposed to control the territories and the Jordanians the population. Thus, the system built up external boundaries: one externalizing the Palestinians but unable to expel them from the system's boundaries and the other constituting a boundary between this control system and the "world," as an international border. At the same time, there were several controversies in the Israeli political system concerning the best way to control the territories' inhabitants. It was understood that efficient rule had to provide not only "law and order" but also certain foci for collective identification. In particular, a counterbalance was required for the emerging Palestinian symbols as well as the exogenous political center which the Palestine Liberation Organization provided for this population. In fact, there were two basic options: Encouraging the trend of sustaining ties between the local Palestinians and the Jordanian government, as hinted at previously; 1. 2. Promoting the formation of a local Palestinian leadership. Following the first option, the "open bridges" policy was formulated from the very beginning of the occupation. About 350,000 residents cross the bridges each year, while limited and indirect control of Jordanians over the inhabitants was permitted (e.g. through continued payment of salaries by the Jordanians to former civil servants and other supporters of the Hashemite regime). Initial steps in forming a local leadership began with the granting of permission for holding municipal elections in 1972 and 1976. The last election campaign aroused a vivid interest among the constituency, which was considerably enlarged from about 30,000 to 90,000 by changing the Jordanian criteria which did not enfranchise women and persons who paid low taxes. The results revealed massive support for radicals and candidates identified with the PLO. Since then, no more elections have been permitted and the majority of the elected representatives were removed from their positions or expelled from the territories. At present, most municipalities in the territories are run by Israelis or Israel-appointed officials. These elections challenged the basic orientation of the Israeli control system towards the Palestinians included in its boundaries. This policy sought to prevent as much as possible any formation of "national institutions" and to forestall any Palestinian nation-building process or the creation of a Palestinian sub-center competing with those of the Israeli con-

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trol system. Its most salient points were the diverse steps taken to dissolve and ban (probably in a tacit agreement with the Jordanian authorities) the so-called National Guidance Committee, established in 1978, which included most of the eminent local leadership of the West Bank. Israel also seeks to constrain the expansion of other potential "national institutions," such as the local universities, newspapers (all published in the annexed East Jerusalem in an attempt to benefit from the rights of free expression guaranteed by Israeli democracy), theaters, a Palestiniancontrolled electric company, etc. New rules of the game are now evolving between representatives of the Israeli control system and the Palestinians. The latter try to develop national institutions step by step, very much like the Jewish Yishuv in Mandatory Palestine, while the Israelis attempt to block or at least restrain this process. The 1987/88 Rebellion very much reflects the Palestinian frustrations with the long duration of the process, and the inability of the Israelis to improve the cost-benefit balance of the obedience to occupation, especially among the young generation of Palestinians. Summary Boundaries and frontiers are relative concepts: the same delineator can constitute a boundary on one side and a frontier on the other. Professional literature 13 describes many types of frontiers, implying that one type of frontier for a specific stratum may constitute another type for a different one and may even be entirely impenetrable for a third. The ability to maintain a frontier or define a certain physical or social territory as such undoubtedly provides a system with greater flexibility and tentatively solves the problem of whether to exclude a designated element from its boundaries or to include it within them. A frontier, by definition, is a temporary entity, but even temporariness can be institutionalized. Most of the Israeli socio-political system's key problems concern its two frontiers: the territorial frontier and the extension of collective identity and population to all or most of world Jewry, even elements remaining permanently outside the systems' boundaries. The first frontier, if it remains as such, portends the latent dissolution of the Israeli polity or its transformation into an entity entirely different from that envisioned by the founding fathers of the Zionist Movement. For example, we might see the institutionalization of the process transforming the Israeli control system into a Herrenvolk democracy, without its racist dimension, in which part of the population enjoys full political and civil rights and part is denied them.14 Paradoxically, the institutionalization and continued existence of the Diaspora as a frontier of the Israeli state will ensure the system's continuity and survival, redefining its collective identity to adapt to this situation

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both ideologically and institutionally. However, if the Diaspora (particularly that of the North American center) is to maintain its political power, it must continue to develop as an entity distinct from the Israeli collectivity. If this collection helps foster a rethinking of problems and provides a point of departure for formulation of a new paradigm for better analysis and comprehension of processes taking place within the Israeli control system, it will have fulfilled its aim. Notes 1. The concept of "permeability" was borrowed from the article by Luckham (1971), who used it to investigate the institutional boundaries between the military and the political establishment. 2. Departure can be implemented on an individual basis but not a collective one. A Japanese can try to become an American, but to the Japanese nation, he will always be considered a Japanese. If a Jew becomes an apostate and changes his religion, he is still considered a Jew "even if he transgresses," unless he is excommunicated for political reasons and ceremoniously dismissed from the boundaries of Judaism. His family may declare him as dead and mourn him, but even then he is considered a deceased Jew. 3. See, for example, the anthology by Lamar and Thompson, especially pages 313 and specifically regarding, Israel:312313, as well as Kimmerling (1983, Chapter I). 4. The Israeli withdrawal, completed in 1982, returned nearly all the Sinai Peninsula to Egypt. Only a few wellknown square miles in the Taba region remain in dispute. For a discussion of the economic and ideological significance of the withdrawal from Sinai, see Kimmerling (1978). 5. This includes the Jewish population of the Jerusalem metropolitan area, part of which was annexed by Israel immediately after the 1967 war, as well as settlers in the Golan Heights, likewise annexed to Israel by application of Israeli law to its inhabitants. 6. This estimate, apparently slightly exaggerated, is based on publications issued by the settlers themselves. See Nekuda (a magazine published by the settlers of Judea, Samaria and the Gaza Region), December 9, 1986. Even according to these sources, however, most settlements and settlers are situated on the outskirts of the occupied territories and only a few are in the heart of Arab regions. 7. The Kingdom of Jordan, which declared itself heir to the Arabs of Mandatory Palestine, was the only sovereign political entity prepared to grant citizenship to Palestinian Arab refugees. However, not all were prepared to accept such citizenship and relinquish their status as refugees, as in the long run they would be giving up the hope of establishing a Palestinian state in place of Israel, while in the short run they would no longer be entitled to the economic recompense due them as refugees.

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8. Kimmerling (1985:75). Use of the concept "control system" solves this problem. On the one hand, we may analyze the system as a whole and on the other we need not accept the political approach which aspires towards annexation of these territories or continuation of the status quo. 9. Use of the term "caste" in this context underscores both hierarchical relations and the impermeability of boundaries between Arabs and Jews, as expressed in the virtually total lack of intermarriage. Today, the number of mixed Jewish-Arab marriages is estimated at less than three hundred. According to this index, the Jewish population itself comprises at least two castes: the religious will not marry the non-religious and vice versa, although this boundary is much more easily traversed. Until the 1960s, the religious population, even its ultra-Orthodox elements, tended to leave its boundaries. The trend gradually reversed itself and return to Orthodoxy became a quantitatively significant and socially, culturally and politically prominent phenomenon in Israel. 10. Today, most Jewish immigrants from distressed countries, such as the Soviet Union, Iran or South Africa, do not immigrate to Israel but rather primarily to English-speaking countries (the United States, Australia and New Zealandsee chapter by Kimmerling). 11. See, for example, the article by Haim Ben-Shahar, "Israel and the Diaspora: A New Strategy," Haaretz May 20, 1980. Ben-Shahar constructs a model of the differential relations between Israel and Diaspora Jewry based on the concept of "partial immigration," i.e. a situation in which Diaspora Jews live part of their lives and invest part of their capital in Israel. Ben-Shahar attempts to legitimize this "partial immigration," but fails to realize that by doing so he also legitimizes "partial emigration'' and/or the emergence of two types of citizens in Israel: those who can afford to live simultaneously in two centers and benefit from both, and those who cannot. This situation calls for a blurring of the boundaries between Israel and the Diaspora or for an increase in their permeability, possibly entailing a further schism in Israeli society and additional legitimization of emigration from it. 12. The Ashkenazic components, still predominant in the system, enjoy a dual benefit; a minority derive direct benefit as a stratificational layer (as indicated, "Gush Emunim" is almost entirely Ashkenazic in nature), while others benefit indirectly through the non-egalitarian distribution of profits in the overall system. 13. See Turner (1928), Hofstadter and Lipset (1968) and Lamar and Thompson (1981). 14. It would be interesting to investigate the "frontiers of rights," i.e. the extent to which one is prepared to expand political rights and what one is willing to exchange for them. For example, there is a tendency to grant political rights "almost" as good as those of Jewish citizens to the Druze and Circassians. This is ostensibly in return for their service in the military, but also because they are perceived as "less Arab," fewer in number and consequently less threatening.

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References Armstrong, J.A. 1976. "Mobilized and Proletarian Diasporas." American Political Science Review 70:393403. Eisenstadt, S.N. 1967. Israeli Society, New York: Basic Books. . 1985. The Transformation of Israeli Society: An Essay in Interpretation. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson. Eldar, Akiva. 1987. "The Bitter Chocolate of the Territories." Haaretz [Hebrew daily], Tel-Aviv, January 12. Friedlander, D. and K. Goldscheider. 1984. "Israel's Population: The Challenge of Pluralism" Population Bulletin 39:139. Hofstadter, R. and S.M. Lipset (eds.). 1968. Turner and the Sociology of the Frontiers. New York and London: Basic Books. Horowitz, D. 1982. "Dual Authority Polities." Comparative Politics 14:32949. Horowitz, D. and M. Lissak. 1978 Origins of the Israeli Polity: Palestine under the Mandate. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. . forthcoming. Overburdened Politics. Albany: SUNY Press. Israel, the State of. 1985. Statistical Abstract of Israel. Jerusalem: Central Bureau of Statistics. No. 36. Kimmerling, B. 1979. The Economic Interrelations Between the Arab and Jewish Communities in Mandatory Palestine. Cambridge, Mass. MIT's Center for International Studies. . 1983. Zionism and Territory. Berkeley: Institute of International Studies, University of California. . 1983a. "A Model for Analysis of Reciprocal Relations Between the Jewish and Arab Communities in Mandatory Palestine." Plural Societies 14:4568. . 1985. The Interrupted System: Israeli Civilians in War and Routine Times. New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction. . 1985a. "Between the Premordial and the Civil Definitions of the Collective Identity: Eretz Israel or the State of Israel." Pp. 28682 in Comparative Social Dynamics: Essays in Honor of S.N. Eisenstadt, edited by E. Cohen, M. Lissak and U. Almagor. Boulder: Westview. . 1987. "Peace in Exchange of Territory: A Macrosociological Analysis of the Concept of Peace in Zionist Ideology," Journal of Applied Behavioral Science, 23:524.

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Lamar, H. and L. Thompson (eds.). 1981. The Frontier in History. New Haven and London: Yale University Press. Luckham, A.R. 1971. "A Comparative Typology of Civil-Military Relations." Government and Opposition, 6:2433. Lustick, Ian. 1980. Arabs in the Jewish State: Israel's Control of a National Minority. Austin and London: University of Texas Press. Porath, Y. 1974. The Emergence of the Palestinian Arab National Movement: 19181929. London: Cass. . 1977. The Palestinian Arab National Movement: 19291939. London: Cass. Shapiro, Yonathan. 1977. The Israeli Democracy. Tel-Aviv: Massada. (Hebrew) . 1984. An Elite Without Successors: Generations of Political Leaders in Israel. Tel-Aviv: Sifriat Poalim. (Hebrew) Shils,'Edward. (1961) 1975. "Center and Periphery." Pp. 316 in Center and Periphery: Essays in Macro-Sociology. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Smooha, Sammy. 1978. Israel: Pluralism and Conflict. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Stone, Russell A. 1982. Social Change in Israel: Attitudes and Events, 196779. New York: Prager. Swirski, S. 1979. "Comments on the Historical Sociology of the Yishuv Period." Collections on Research and Criticism. 2:542. (Hebrew) Turner, Frederick Jackson. 1928. The Frontier in American History. New York: Holt. Weisburd, D. and E. Waring. 1985. "Settlement Motivation in the Gush Emunim Movement: Comparing Bonds of Altruism and Self-Interest," Pp. 183199 in The Impact of Gush Emunim: Politics and Settlement in the West Bank, edited by David Newman. London and Sydney: Croom Helm. Yaar, Ephraim Yuchtman. 1985. "Differences in Ethnic Patterns of Socioeconomic Achievement in Israel: A Neglected Aspect of Structured Inequality." International Review of Modern Sociology. 15:5769.

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Contributors NACHMAN BEN-YEHUDA is a Senior Lecturer in the Department of Sociology and Social Anthropology of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. He is the author of Deviance and Moral Boundaries: Witchcraft, the Occult, Science-Fiction, Deviant Sciences and Scientists (Chicago, 1985). He is currently working on a manuscript on politics and deviance, and is conducting a research project on political assassinations by Jews in Israel. ERIK COHEN is Professor of Sociology and Dean of the Faculty of Social Sciences of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. His major academic interests: the relation between sociology and philosophy, sociology of tourism, social structure of Thailand as well as Israel, and anthropology of ethnic arts. He has published numerous articles in these fields, and is the editor (with M. Lissak and U. Almagor) of Comparative Social Dynamics: Essays in Honour of Shmuel N. Eisenstadt (Boulder, Colo., 1985), and of a special issue of The Journal of Applied Behavioral Science (1987) dedicated to the Removal of Israeli settlements from Sanai, and the author of "Expatriate Communities" in Current Sociology (1977). He is currently engaged in a study of social change in Thailand. MENACHEM FRIEDMAN is Associate Professor in the Department of Sociology and Social Anthropology of Bar Ilan University of Ramat Gan. His work on the sociology of religion and social history has focused on the reaction of traditional Jewry to the processes of secularization and modernization. His publications include the Hebrew books Society and Religion: Non-Zionist Orthodoxy in Eretz-Israel (Jerusalem, 1968) and The Poster People: Growth and Segregation of the Ultra-Orthodox Community of Jerusalem (Tel-Aviv, forthcoming). CHARLES W. GREENBAUM is Associate Professor of Psychology at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. He has performed research in social, organizational, and cross-cultural developmental psychology, and is currently interested in the development of political concepts in children, and in parent-child relations.

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SHOSHANA HARPAZ holds the M.A. degree from the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, and is currently a clinical psychologist at the Ilan Child Guidance clinic, Jerusalem. DAN HOROWITZ is Professor of Sociology and Political Science of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. He has written numerous articles on national security, political theory, military sociology, and sociology of Israel, and is coauthor of three books (with E. Luttwak) The Israeli Army (London, 1975), (with M. Lissak) Origins of Israeli Polity (Chicago, 1978) and (with the same co-author) Overburdened Politics (Albany, forthcoming). BARUCH KIMMERLING is a senior faculty member of the Department of Sociology and Director of the Center for Study and Documentation of Israeli Society at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. His publication and research interests include sociology of military and war, the Arab-Jewish conflict as well as the Zionist movement. Among other works, he is the author of Zionism and Territory (Berkeley, CA, 1983), Zionism and Economy (Cambridge, Mass., 1983) and The Interrupted System: Israeli Civilians in War and Routine Times (New-Brunswick, N.J., 1985), and numerous articles in his fields. LEON MANN is Professor of Psychology at Flinders University of South Australia, Adelaide. He is the author of Social Psychology and a co-author of Decision Making. He has performed research in decision-making, the behavior of crowds, cross-cultural studies of groups, and the development of decision rules in children. JOEL S. MIGDAL is Professor and Chair of International Studies at the University of Washington's Henry M. Jackson School of International Studies. His publications include Peasants, Politics and Revolution (Princeton, 1974), Palestinian Society and Politics (Princeton, 1980), and Strong Societies and Weak States: State-Society Relations and States' Capabilities in the Third World (Princeton, 1988). He lives in Seattle with his wife Marcia and their three children. MICHAEL SHALEV holds a joint appointment as Senior Lecturer in sociology and political science at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. He was educated in New Zealand, Britain and the United States, and specializes in the political economy of labor markets and labor movements. He is the author of Labor and Political Economy of Israel. (Oxford, forthcoming) as well as other works, and has written a number of articles on comparative labor movements and public policy in the western nations.

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JUDITH T. SHUVAL is Professor of Sociology at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem and Director of the Program in Medical Sociology. Her publications include the following books: Immigrants on the Threshold (New York, 1963), Social Functions of Medical Practice (San-Francisco, 1970), Entering Medicine: A Seven Year Study of Medical Education in Israel (Oxford, 1980), and Newcomers and Colleagues: Soviet Immigrant Physicians in Israel (Huston, 1983). Shuval's research has focused on immigration, ethnic relations, professionals and professional socialization as well as the sociology of health. She is the recipient of the Israel Prize in Social Sciences (1965), and has served as Chair of the Israeli Sociological Association.

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Index A Agudat Israel, 165, 172, 174-176, 180, 182, 186-187, 196-198 Executive Committee, 179-180 negotiations with Jewish Agency, 184-185 World Conference of, 174-178, 196 Young Guard of, 180, 195, 199 Ahdut Ha'avoda, 20 "al-Ard", 72 alienation, 105, 161-162, 224-225 "Alexandria-on-the-Hudson", as Jewish center, 238, 260. See also New York, North America; United States, Jewry Alexandrian Jewry, as Jewish center, 238 Aliya, 250 Second, 20 Sixth. See also immigration Altalena (arms ship), 15 Alter, Abraham M., Gerer Rebbe, 179 alternative systems/organizations, of the state, 13, 152-162, 271. Also parallel systems American Association for Jewish Education (AAJE), 249 American Jewish Committee, 249 American Jewish Congress, 249 American Jewry: 16, 248 adoption of Protestant Anglo-Saxon values, 248 ambivalency toward Eastern European Jews, 248 community structure, 246-247 competion with Israel

as Jewish center, 237-261. See also Jewry; World Jewry as frontier for Israel, 275 survey, 252 American society, dilemma of, 252-253 and the transformation of frontier to boundary, 275 "Americanism", 252 Americanization, 240, 248 ancien regime, 10, 11, 13 Anglo-American Enquire Commission, (1946), 182 annexation. See occupied territories; Israeli Law, applied anomie, 161 antisemitism, 240, 252 apartheid, Jewish community compared with, 34 Arab: Christians, 333; 66 cultural autonomy, 72 dependency, 73 lands expropriation, 72 as minority in Israel, 68-74, 94 loyalty to Israel, 112 Muslims, 66 nationalism, 13 national movement, 22 personal loyalty to Jewish state, 67 policy toward, 73 school system, 72 state in Palestine, 14 States, 23 surrounding, quasi-diaspora role, 32 symbolic participation in Jewish state, 86

Arab Affairs Adviser, 73 Arab-Jewish conflict, 32, 39, 66, 74 Arab Revolt: of 1936-1939, 32, 38, 40, 51, 98, 271 of 1987/88, 229, 233, 277-278, 290

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Arabic, as second official language, 72 newspapers, 112 Arabs: as 'Amalek': as citizens of Israel: 66-67, 68-74, 108-111, 271, 277 economic exclusion, 104-107 ncorporation in labor market, 107-109 as minority group in Israel, 146-147, 229 under military government, See military government; under Jewish control, 41, 51 wage equalization, 103-104 Arabs, as non-citizens, 105-120 Arendt, Hanna, 250 Arlosoroff, Chaim, 100 armed forces: British, 38 control over, 15 communal, 271 Israeli, 204 Jewish, 14 in Jewish state, 185 service in Israeli, 199. See also army army. See armed forces "Ashkenazation", 223, 224-225, 272 Ashkenazim. See Occidentals assimilation, 241 Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAM). See Thailand Artstein, Yael, 116 Australia, 140 authority, without sovereignty, 35, 48 autonomous organizations, from the state, 20

Avruch, K., 257 B Babylonia, as Jewish center, 237-238 Badie, Bertrand, 1, 3, 14 Balfour Declaration, 12, 18, 52, 171, 172 as manifestation of God's grace, 173-174 Becker, Israel, 118 Begin, Menachem, 15 behaviour, cognitive and social, 143, 147-148 Ben-Gurion, David, 14, 16, 17, 19, 21-22, 101, 185-186 as dictator, 15 and denial of diaspora, 250 Ben-Yehuda, Nachman, 271 Bhumipol, (Thai) king, 81 Biltmore Programe, 15 Birnbaum, Pierre, 1, 3, 14 Black Panthers (Israeli), 224 Bnei Brak, 165 Bonacich, Edna, 96 Boro Park (NY), 256 boundaries: of American Jewish community, 249 blurring between Jewish centers, 257-261 exclusion from, 258 of collectivities, 267-281 of Jewish, see Jewish incompatability of, between state and community, 31 moral, 152-153, 161-162 of Palestine, 15 permeability of, 32, 94, 268, 271 societal, 267-269

of the Yishuv, 31-33 Brandeis, Louis, Justice, 16, 18 Branowicz Yeshiva, 176 "break points," in the continuity of social system, viii, 266 Breuer, Issac, 176, 179 British Army. See armed forces British Government, 175 British policy, in Palestine, 11-12, 14, 18, 33, 37-38, 51-52, 271 Budhism, and political authority, 75-78 Buddhist, Sangha, 81 world ruler, 75 Bund, 253 C Cambodia, 76 Canaanite movement, 260 capital influx, 110 capitalism, 3 caste segmentation of labor market. See labor market Catholic, 268 center, 30, 49, 84 alternative, 266 communal, see communal convergence and divergence between, 260 formation, Jewish, 32-33 lack of common, 36-37 national, 33, 45-46, 94 primary, 49 religio-political (in Thailand), 75 subcenters, 30, 46, 48

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"center-and-periphery" model, 53, 265-267 applied by Israeli researchers 30 Chakkri period, 76 Cherkas, 146 Chief Rabbinte, 18, 32, 191-193 Askenazic, 174 of Petach Tikva, 189 Sepharadic, 231 children, perception of minority rights. See minority rights China, 10 Chulalongkorn, King (Thai), 76 Churchill, Winston, 18 Christians, 146 married with Jews, 252 world, 68 citizens, 29, 31, 51, 70-71, 152-153, 159 of Israel, 255 Arab of Israel, 269 negotiation with the state, see state of polis, 238 citizenship, 6, 29, 37, 67 importance for Arab minority, 271 and military service, 162 Palestinian, 42 universalistic principle of, 69-70, 84-85 relations to nationality, 66-88 and religion, 68-71 in Thailand 75-84 civil obligations, 67

civic religion. See civil religion civil religion, 67-69 American Jewish, 242 in Israel, 71, 86 in Thailand, 71-72, 77, 86 civil rights, 86-87, 70, 138, 229 as individual, 69 civil society. See society civil war, 31, 37 between Jews and Arabs, 87-88 in Lebanon, 49 Russian, 21 civility, "ordeal of," 69 identity, 273 classes, 244 cleavages, ideological, 50 coalition, minimally winning, 46 collectivist orientation, 140 consensus, as condition for stability, 219-221 cognitive development, 137-138 Cohen, Erik, 271, 272 Cohen, S., 247 collective identity. See identity colonialism, 11 internal, 266 communal: armed organizations, 38, 47 See also militias, Hagana; Irgun Zvei Leumi bi-communal situation, 28; 48-49 center, 48-50 multicommunal, 31,

see also political systems institutions, 12 leadership, see leadership Communist party, 39, 73, 109, 111, 113 community: approaches to, 28 autonomous Jewish, 15, 247, 254-255 Arab, in Palestine, 28-56 linguistic, 31 Jewish, in Palestine, 11-22, 28-56 intra- vs. inter-community integration, 29, 50, 53 religious, 30-32 voluntary nature of, 44-45; see Yishuv conflict, mechanisms of control, 218 and competition between Jewish centers, 248-257 consociational, political systems, 44 model, 49, 53 critics of, 50 democracy, see democracy constitution, postponed enactment of, 45 containment theory, 160 control, internal and external, see also social control control system, viii, 265-281 control theory. See social control Council of Presidents of Major American Jewish Organizations, 249 Council of Torah Sages, 172, 180, 187-188, 192. See also Agudat Israel critical mass, 257-261 Crusaders' Kingdom of Jerusalem, 259 cultural diversity, 216, 219-221, 233 culture, 134-148, 270

Jewish, 238 Judeo-Christian, 239 Protestant- Catholic-Jewish, 239 Western, 238 Cyprus, 31, 37 Czerelson, Yehuda Leib, 175-176

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D Day of the Land, 74 Dayan, Moshe, 119, 279 Dayson, Kenneth, 1 deeply-divided society, 37-38, 40, 49-50, 53, 266, 270 characteristics of, 29. See also society democracy: 136 consociational, 30 herrenvolk, 280 in Israel, 69, 85, 159 and socialist values, 222 in Thailand, 85-86 regimes, 46 Democratic Party (in US), 240 demographic, competition, 253-254 balance, see Jewish-Arab dependency, mutual, between Jewish centers, 248-259 diaspora, Jewish: relations with the Yishuv, 33-34, 99 as frontier, 275-276, 280-281 "mentality," 179 mobilized, 276 organized, 50 relations with Israel, 70, 208, 237-261. Also Exile differentiation, dimension of, 217 disobedience. See civil disobedience; dissenters dissenters, political, 45

distributive justice, 140 diversity, 219-221 Dixon, A., 139 Dominican Republic, 23 Don-Yehiya, E., 71 Druzes, 168, 113, 146 Durkeim, Emile, 159-160 Duskinsky, Yosef Z., 184, 186, 198 E economic resources, 140 economy, "black", of Jewish community, 33-36 Eda Haredit, 184, 202. See also Neturei Karta education: independent, Orthodox, 165, 186, 227 Jewish, in Palestine, 16, 35 in Israel, 258 "grey," 156 Egypt, 9, 146, 204 Eisenstadt, Shmuel N., 270 Elazar, David, 249 emigration, Jewish, from Israel, 244-245, 253-254. See also Yerida England, 179 Enlightenment, Jewish, 166, 178 Enright, R.D., 139 equality, 139, 140 formal, 67 Eretz Israel, see Land of Israel ethnic: attitude, 143

groups, 146 relations, in Israel, 134 in Thailand, 75-84 in the US, 247 ethnic identity, 67, 270 ethnicity, 6 in Israel, 221-225 politization of, 232-233 persistance of in the US, 240 European-American origin. see Occidentals expulsion of minorities. See minority extra-parliamentary opposition, 106 F Federations, Jewish in America, 249 field of authority, 56n, 266 field of power, 266-267. See also control system Filber, Yaakov, 206 Fishman, Yehuda Leib, 186 Fisher, A.M., 249 Footsteps of Messiah (booklet), 178, 196 "footsteps of Messiah". See redemption Frank, Haim S.P., 204-205 Franklin, C.C., 139 Friedman, Abraham, 187 Friedman, Menachem, 272, 276 Friedman, Thomas 251 frontiers, 2, 267-281 G galactic polity, 75

Galilee, 256 Gaza Strip, 73, 93, 115, 117, 119, 233, 269, 274. See also occupied territories gemeinschaft, 36 Geneva, 139 Gentile, boundaries between Jews and, 178

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geriatrics, 158-159 Germa Jewry, 251. See also Jews; Jewish people Germany, 167 Nazi, 177, 182 gesellschaft, 36 Gibbs, Jack, 196 Glaser, N., 218 global system, 238 God-king, 75 Golan Heights, 269 Goldman, Nahum, 255 Goodman, Harry, 179, 186 government, of Israel, 22 provisorial, 254-255 of Palestine, see Palestine weak, 25. See also Israeli state Greek philosophers, 238 ''Green (armistice) Line", 66, 115, 118, 269. See also Rhodos Agreements (lines) Greenbaum, Charles, 141, 272 Greenbaum, Itzhak, 186 group, power of, 218 dominance, 220-221 immigrant, 221-225 interest, see interest group religious, 225-229 Gush Emunim movement, 167, 206-207, 278

H Haan, N., 147 Habad movement, forbidding withdrawal from occupied territories, 208 Hacohen, Israel Meir, 176, 196 Hadassah (hospital), 154 "Hafetz Haim". See Hacohen Hagana, 47, 182 British attempt to disarm, 38 Haifa, 39 Halacha, 70, 167-169, 208-209, 245 as the constitution of Jewish state, 174, 181-182, 194-195 as martial law, 185, 186, 226. See also Jewish law haluka, 243 Hapoel Hamizrachi, 46, 256 Harkabi, Yehosafat, 238 Hasemite Kingdom of Jordan. See Jordan Haskala. See Enlightenment Hassidim, 243 "hawks" vs. "doves", 244 "Hazon Ish". See Karlitz health care, 16, 93, 152, 153-154 Hebrew, 41, 44, 222 culture, 248 Hebrew Labor. See Jewish labor Hebron, Tomb of Patriachs in, 204 Hellenism, 238. See also Jewish-Hellenistic culture Herzl, Theodor, 197 Herzog, Issac Halevi, 174, 181, 182, 192 "Hesder Yeshivas", 206

Hinuch Atzmai. See education, independent HIAS, 246, 254 Hirschi, Travis, 153, 161 Histadrut: Arab Department, 109, 113 as agent of the state, 11, 93-122, 272 control of labor market, 46, 95-97 establishment of, 95 exclusion of non-citizen Arabs, 115-120 as extra-parliamentary opposition, 106 and institutional building, 16 "organization tax" deduction, 117 quasi-state social services of, 111-112, 154 owned enterprises, 111 "Workers kitchens"; serving non-kosher food, 185 Hobbesian state of nature, 6 Holocaust, 166, 179-181, 196, 237, 239, 277 as proof of Zionist solution, 179 Holy Land. See Land of Israel Horowitz, Dan, 2, 20, 258, 270 "Hovevei Zion" movement, 168, 169-170 Hungary, 23, 167 Huntington, Samuel P., 253 I identity, 49 collective, 73-74, 270 ethnic, 223 group, 217 religious, 84 self, 146 ideologies, 159

competing, 148

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immigrant groups. See group immigration, Jewish, to Palestine/Israel, 7, 41, 44, 52, 106, 253-254, 258 illegal, 182 to the US, 239 independence: of Israel, 69 Independence Day. 189, 190, 242 reciting Hallel (thanksgiving) during the, 191-193 India, 31 industrialization, 3 integration, 29, 22 inter-community integration. See community; integration interest group, 218 intermarriage, 241, 251-252. See also mixed marriage internal colonialism. See colonialism International Labor Organization (ILO), 120 intra-community integration. See community; integration Iran, 253 Ireland, Northern. See Northern Ireland "Irgun Zevai Leumi" (IZL), 38, 182 iron curtain, 268 Islam, fundamentalism, 74 in Thailand, 80-83 Isolation, between Jews and Arabs, 34-35, 41 Israel. See the State of; Land of Israel; Eretz Israel Israel Defence Forces (IDF). See armed forces Israel, the State of. See Israeli state Israeli center, 265-267 Israeli culture, East European based, 222

Israeli Law, applied on territory, 269. See also annexation Israeli nationality, creation of, 84 Israeli society, 198 approaches to, 269-270 cleavages in, 277 in comparative perspectives, 1-25 overloaded, 258 religious dimension of, 226 Israeli state: Arab participation in, 86-87 capabilities of, 3, 7, 110, 257-258 civil definition of, 275 citizens of, 269 dependence on the USA support; establishment, 18, 41, 66, 271 jeopardized its Jewishness, 87 democratic nature of, 73, 74 freed Orthodoxy from, 208 herrnvolk-style of, 260, 280 as Jewish state, 69-70, 104 organization of, 10 against Land of Israel, see Land of Israel as nation state, 266, 275 nationality, 84 political independence, 117 Provisional Government of, 180 as messianic redemption, see redemption; as profanation of God relations with diaspora, see diaspora sovereignty of, 93 sponsoring programs for drug addicts, 155 supremacy of, 22

as theological dilemma, 165-210 Israeli way of life, 222 Israelization of Jews, as abandonment of their mission, 250 Israelocentric view, 241-242 J Jabotinsky, Vladimir, 16, 18 Jaffa, 41 Japan, 140, 147 Jerusalem, 39, 165, 205 as center, 237. See also Zion, 269, 280 Jewish Agency, 10, 15, 38, 182, 183, 185, 186 agreement with State of Israel, 254-255 extended, 255 international recognition, 254-255 performing quasi-state governmental functions, 93 Jewish: bipolar reality, 237-238 culture, 169 civilization, 85 collectivities' boundaries, 249 (religious) law, see Halacha nationalism, 70 patriotism, see patriotism politics, 168 people, 165 religion, 68, 165-209 underground, 207 Jewish-Arab relations: boundaries of, 268 in Mandatory Palestine, 28-56

demographic balance, 105 rejection

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of cooperation, 95-96 zero-sum character of, 39 Jewish-Arab conflict. See Arab-Jewish conflict Jewish center, 237. See also, North America; United States Jewish Kingdoms, Biblical, 276 Jewish labor, 97-98 principle of, 34, 95; transfer to colonies, 101 Jewish-Hellenistic culture, 238. See also Hellenism "Jewish state vs. state of Jews", 208, 276 Jewish Welfare Board, 249 Jewry. See also World Jewry; American Jewry Jews, 68 as potential citizens of Israel, 274 and hostile Arab majority in neighboring country, 146 Central European, 167 East European, 167-168, 172, 178-179 German, 251 Western European, 167. See also Jewry Joint Distribution Committee (JDC), 246 Jordan, 204, 269, 274, 280. See also Hasemite Kingdom Joseph, Dov, 198 Judaism, 84, 168 Conservative, 228, 256 Orthodox, see Orthodox

Reform, 228, 231, 256 reinforced by Zionism, 246 Judeo-Christian culture. See culture Juridication, 18 justice, definition of, 135 K Kahane, Meir, 274 and Kahanism, 229 Kanagawa, C., 140, 141 Kaplan, Eliezer, 183 Karlitz, Abraham Y., 180, 195-196. See Hazon Ish Kasher, Menachem M., 169, 205 Kass, D., 244 Kastner (Israel) trial, 197 Katz, Reuven, 189 Katzenllenbogen, Raphael, 187 kibbutz, socialization in, 140-141 violation of shabbat, 185 Kimmerling, B., 2, 270, 273 kinship, 6 Klatzkin, Jacob, 260 Knesset Israel, 18, 32 Knesset, 19, 22 Komemiyut yeshiva, 199 Kook, Abraham Isaac Hacohen, 170-172, 181, 202-203 Kook, Zvi Yehuda, 167, 170, 202-203, 205-207 Kraus, Richard, 20 Kula, Amit, 206 Kupt Cholim, 154 L

Labor Councils, 107, 109 labor market, 46, 94-98 cast segmentation of, 116 inclusion of Arab workers, 107-108 exclusion of Arabs, see Jewish labor separatism, 95 Labor Movement, Jewish, 16 in Israel, 256 alliance with national capital, 100 Labor Party, 109, 112-113, 114. See also Mapai laissez-faire approach, 48 Lakeville studies, 247 land: value of, 36 large landholdings, 9 Land of Israel, 43, 165, 169, 171, 175, 177, 179, 203-204, 205, 230, 277 secular state on, 197 settlement of, 172 against the State of Israel, 207-210 as theological concept, 277 as Utopian concept, 170. See also Eretz Israel; Holy Land; Land of Patriarchs Landa, Shlomo Z., 173 Landau, Yaakov, 179 Landsmanschaften, 253 law enforcement, 157-158 Law of Return, 69-70, 227, 274 leaders: Jewish, in Palestine, 14, 15 Orthodox, 19

political, 7-8 in Sierra Leone, 11

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leadership, 14 of labor streem 17. See also communal leadership League of Nations, 33, 171 Lebanon, 31, 37, 49 Lebowitz, Yesayahu, 193, 194-185, 208, 243 "Lebowitz Debate", 193-95, 185 legitimacy, 29, 31, 37, 40 conditional, 49 of Israel, 70, 242-243, 250-253 of the state, see state leisure, 158 Levin, Itzhak Meir, 179, 183, 184, 188 Liebman, C.Y., 71 Likud, 224, 257 Lipset, S.M., 244 Lissak, Moshe, 258 Lithuania, Rabbi trained in, 189 Lohamei Heirut Israel (LHI), 182. See also Stern Gang London, P., 138 loyalties, 49; 266 Luah Eretz Israel, 189 Lubavitcher. See Schneerson Lustick, Ian, 104 M majority, group in democratic states, 134 fixed, 139 power of, 135

shifting, 139 "tyranny of", 136 Malays, resistance, 75-83 Manheim, L.A., 139 Mann, Leon, 139, 140, 141 Mannheim, Karl, 242 Mapai, 10, 21, 46, 101, 104, 105-106 leaders, 102 Mapam, 106 marginalization, 84 Marienbad, 184 Marx, Karl, 3 May Day, 176 medicine. See health melting pot, 240 vs. ethnic pluralism (approach), 221-222 Mendelson, Binyamin, 199-200 Mexico, 9 Migdal, J., 14, 270 military government, 72, 105, 108, 111, 119 military, ability, 258 service, 222 militias, 38 Ministry of Labor, 116, 118-120 minority: assimilition of, 67 expulsion of, 67, 277. See also transfer middle-man, 134 fixed, 138 negative perception of, 137

minority rights: definition of, 133 developmental concept of, 134-148 concept, in children, 135-137 stage of recognition, 141-146 Mintz, Binyamin, 179 Mitnagdim, 244 mixed local authorities, 39. See also Haifa; Jerusalem mixed marriage. See intermarriage Mizrachi movement, 4, 6, 169, 174, 180-181 mobilization, of capacities, 14, 271 of resources, see resources modernity, 69 Moessenger, P., 138, 139, 140, 141 Moore, Barrington, Jr., 4 Morgan, C., 139 Moynihan, D.P., 218 N Nahal, 199 Nasser, Gamel Abdul, 9 nation-building, 100, 279-280 nation-state. See state national capital, 99 National Council, 10, 18, 254 See also Va'ad Leumi National Guidance Committee, 280 national institutions, Jewish, 32, 33, 37, 42, 47-48 Palestinian, 279-280 nationality, Israeli, 84 its relation to religion, 67

nationhood, idea of, 77 Nazi Germany. See Germany Nazism, 172, 197 needs, basic, 152 Negev, 256

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Neria, Moshe Zvi, 193, 194-195 Nettl, J.P., 4 Neturei Karta, 184, 189, 200-201, 202 See also Eda Haredit Neusner, Jacob, 259 New York, 180, 258. See also "Alexandria-on-the-Hudson" New Zealand, 147 Northern Ireland, 37, 268. See also, Ireland Nye, Ivan F., 160 O Occidental, orgined Jews, 221-225, 231, 244, 272-274, 272-273. See also Ashkenazim; European-American; Westerns occupation, routinized, 272 occupied territories, 73, 115-120, 265-266, 269 annexation, de facto, 119 Civil Administration of, 271 and ethnic origin, 270-271 as frontier, 276-278 inclusion in Israeli economy, 278-279 Jewish settlements on, 230 links with Israel, 272 settlement of, 256. See also control system Ohalim, 224 Old Yishuv, 18 open bridge policy, 279 Orientals, Jews, 71, 106, 118, 221-225, 231, 244, 257, 266, 272-274, 272-273

and the occupied territories, 270-271, 273-274, 277-278. See also Sepharadim; Eastern Jews Orthodoxy, Jewish, 19, 256-257 concession to, 25 exclusion from Yishuv polity, 32 opposition to Zionism, 18. See also Agudat Israel and Israel's military victories, 165 reinterpretation of Zionism, 69. See also redemption, returning to way of life of, 273 P Palestine: Arab domination of, 12 boundaries of, see boundaries as deeply-divided, 270 during British Mandate, 7-8, 10-25, 28-59 as a unified Arab-Jewish system, 270 government of (British), 38, 40-41, 47-48 as a society, 29, 270 stability in, 52 quasi-state characteristic, 28 Palestine Labor League, 100, 105, 108 Palestine Office, 99 Palestinian, 66, 74, 229 flag, 74 identity, 32 externalization of, 279 in Israeli labor market, 115-120 guerrilla warfare, 277 nation building process, 279-280 Palestinian Rebellion, see Arab revolt

resistance movement, 74. See also Arabs of Israel society, 278 Palestinian Liberation Organization (PLO), 279-280 Pan-Arab identity, 32 para-statal-institutions, see state parallel systems. See alternative systems Parsons, Talcott, 160 partition, of Palestine, 175 patriotism, Jewish, anti-Zionist, 209-210 Peace Agreement, between Egypt and Israel, 269 "Peace Now" movement, 257 Peel Commission. See Royal Commision periphery, 30-31 Jewish in Palestine, mobilization of, 33 new, 66 permeable boundaries. See boundaries Philo, of Alexandria, 238 Piaget, J., 137 pluralism, American, 252 in Israel, 221-234, 265-266, 273 definition of, 216 and inequality, 220-221 of value, 47 Poalei Agudat Israel, 179 police: British, 38 in Jewish state, 185 Israeli, 157; private. See also alternative systems policy:

fiscal, 25 social, 25 polis, 266 political culture, of bargaining, 42, 46 Political Sociology, in Israel, 94

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political systems, multi-communal, 31 political theory, 37 polity, Jewish, in Palestine. See community Ponevez Yeshiva, 165 population: American Jewish, 253-254 of Israeli control system, 269-270 heterogeneous, 134 of Israel, of Palestine, Jewish, 7-8, 10 transfer of 31. See also immigration, emigration power, distribution of, 148 generate, 6 political, 238, 255, 260 relations, 135 primordial, cleavages, 244 identification, 31, 50, 271 links among Jews, 70, 272-273 symbols, 49 priorities, social, 257-259 protest, of students, 138 Protestant, 268 Pumpeditha, 237 R Rabbinate. See Chief Rabbinate rabbinical courts, 18 Rabinowitz, Yosef, of Kovno, 173 Rachel's Tomb, 165, 204. See also Tombs of Patriarchs

Radford, M., 140, 141 radial polity, 76-77 Reagan Administration, 247 rebellion, of Arabs. See Arab revolt; of Malays of Thailand, 67 Reckless, Walter C., 160 redemption (messianic): advent of, 172, 189, 191-192, 206 false, 166-168, 173, 200 and politics, 165-157 secularization of, 206-207 and Jewish state, 188-203 after Holocaust, 179-188 by return to Land of Israel, 203-209 total, 206 and statehood, before Holocaust 173-178 Zionism as the first stage of. See Zionism Reiss, Albert Jr., 160 religious groups. See group religious pluralism, 227-228 Resistance Movement, Jewish 38, 47-48 resources: allocation of, 143-144 economic, 143, 144 mobilization of, 13 political, 11, 143, 144 social, 143, 144. See zero-sum situation Revisionists. See Zionism revolution, Russian, 24 Thai, 77, 78 rights, political, 266

righteous ruler, 75 Rishon L'Tsion, 96 Roberts, N.S., 147 Rokach, Aharon, Belzer Rebbe, 179 Rome, Jewish revolt against, 238 Rosenfeld, Henry, 103 Rosenheim, 180, 183, 186 Rotenshtreich, I., 157 Rothschild, Baron Edmond de-, 96 Royal Commission (of 1937), 42, 174, 184. See also Peel Commission; Partition Commission rulemakers, old and potential, 3-25 "rules of the game", agreement on, 1-2 Ruppin, Arthur, 17 S "Salute to Israel" (parade), 242 Sankewitz, Hanoch, 187 Satan, 200 Satmar Hasids, 200 Schach, Eliezer M., 165-166, 170-171, 208-210 Scheinfeld, Moshe, 180, 195, 196, 197-198, 201 Schneerson, Menachem M., 208. See also Lubavitcher school system, public, 19 Schweid, E. 250 Sefer Eretz Israel, 189-190 self-determination, 2 Sepharadim. See Orientals Septuagint, the, 238 Shabbat, 176, 184, 185, 186 Shafir, Gershon, 98

Shalev, Michael, 272, 273 Shamir, Michal, 146, 147

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Shapiro, Yohanatan, 2, 99 Sharett, Moshe, 183. See also Shertok Sharkanshi, I., 93 Shas party, 273 Shertok. See Sharett Sheffer, G., 249 Shils, Edward, 30, 265 Shpiezer, E., 157 shtetl, 248 Shuval, Judith T., 272, 273 Siam, 75-84 suzerainty of, 66, 78 Siegal, M., 137 Sinai Peninsula, 269 "Six-Days War." See war Smith, Hanoch, 253 Smooha, Sammy, 265 social contract, 159 social control, 6-7, 8-9, 12, 15, 16-17, 25, 157, 159-162 socialization, for life style, 157 for minority rights, 134, 137, 138, 141, 143, 147 society, 29 civil, 93, 260 creative, 258 democratic, 148, 216 heterogenous, 221-222, 272-274 pluralistic, 218-219 slave-based, 266

solidarity, with the state, 6 Soloveitchik, Zeev, Brisker Rebbe, 184 Songkhram, Marshal Phibun, 76, 79 South Africa, 34, 136, 253, 268 Soviet Union, 10 as example, 186 Jewish emigration from, 242, 253 satellite-system, 266 government, 177 state: alternatives to, 20 autonomy of, 20 and basic needs, see needs bodies, owned by, 93 building, 105 bureaucracy of, 10, 266 city-state, 266 capabilities of, 3, 24 democractic, 148 definition of, 4 founders of, 20 idea of, 1 legitimacy of, 6, 85 margins of, 93 modern, 3 negotiable areas with citizens, 159 as organization, 6 para-statal institutions, 10, 15 characteristics of quasi-state, 28, 37, 44, 111 nation-state, 31, 40, 67-68, 75 -party role, 111

"-in-state", 37 legal-rational character of, 73 religious foundation of, 68, 87 and religion, 225-229 separation between Church and the, 247 sovereign, 30 strong, 11, 25 as a theological dilemma, 165-215 as variable, 37 withdrawal from, by ultra-Orthodoxy, 18 symbols of, 10, 69 statebreakers, 5-25 "state-in-making", the Yishuv as, 20, 25, 29, 33, 37, 180 stateness, degree of, 4 state/society relations, "balkanization" of, 94 in Israel, 93-122, 152-162 Status (of Jewish Agency) Law, 254-255 status quo agreement, 186, 226 Steiner, George, 250 Stern Gang. See Lohamei Heirut Israel strategy of survival, 5-25 of Jews in Palestine, 11-12 of Arabs in Palestine, 11-12 stratification, of Palestine, 50 of Jewish Palestine, 33-36 strongmen, 11 relations with the state, 9 subcenter. See center Sukhothai period, 66 Sullivan, J.L., 146-147 Sura, 237

Sussman, Zvi, 97, 116 Svirski, Shlomo, 270 Synagogue Council of America, the, 249 Syria, 204 T Talmud, Babylonian, 237 Tami (party), 224 Tan, C., 139 taxes, collection of, 159 rate of, 23 Teitelbaum, Yoel (Rabbe Yoelish), 201, 202 Tel Aviv, 41 television, state controlled, 158

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Tempel Mount, 204 Temple, Second (period), 237 territory, as a common framework, 29 as political resource, 51 Thai. See Thailand Thailand, 66-67, 75-83 compared with Israel, 84-88, 271 Theilhaber, F.A., 251 Tocqueville, Alexis de, 136 togetherness, 162 Tokachinsky, Yehiel M., 189-190 Toledano, Shmuel, 73 tolerance, 219 Tomb of Patriachs, 165, 204 Torah, laws of, 165, 169, 177 as the Jewish state constitution, 176, 183 secure Jews instead of state, 208-209. See also Halacha traditionalization, 257 transfer of population. See population Turner, Frederick Jackson, 268 U Uganda, as substitute for Palestine, 197 ultra-Orthodoxy. See Orthodoxy. See also Eda Haredit; Neturei Karta United Jewish Appeal (JNF), 183, 246-247 United Nations, 2, 23, 104, 187, 188 United Nations Special Commission on Palestine (UNSCOP), 182-183, 185-187 United States, 23, 136, 147, 154, 244 ethnic membership in, 218, 268

immigration from, 253-254 immigration policy, 248 Jewry, as Jewish center, 237-241, 246-257 as the Promised Land, 247, 259 support of Israel, 275-276, 277 utopia, 242 V Va'ad Leumi. See National Council Vajiravuth, King (Thai), 76-77 Vanneman, Reeve D., 20 Vietnam, 10 W Wailing Wall. See Western Wall Wallerstein, Immanuel, 4 Walsh, P., 147 War: and internal struggle, 15 mobilization for, 14, 22, 23 of 1948, 14, 15, 23, 32, 66, 198-199, 269. See also War of Independence; of 1967, 66, 71, 73-74, 94, 115, 165, 169, 173, 202, 203-209, 243, 265, 269. See also Six Day war, of 1973, 71, 115, 173. See also "Yom Kippur War" of 1982. See also War of Lebanon War of Independence. See war War of Lebanon. See war Wasserman, Elhanan, 176, 177-178, 184, 193, 196, 201 Wasserstein, Bernard, 12 way of life, traditional, erosion of, 167-168 Weizmann, Chaim, 15-16, 18 welfare, 152, 162

West Bank, 73, 93, 115, 117-119, 229, 233, 278. See also occupied terriories West Coast (of the US), 275 Western culture. See culture Western origin. See Occidentals Western Wall, 165, 197, 203. See also Wailing Wall White Paper, of 1939, 12, 182, 183 Williamsburg (NY), 256 Wolf, Abraham, 198 world Jewry, 16. See also Jewry world system, 4, 258 World War I, 7, 98, 172 World War II, 23, 39, 138, 168, 172, 178, 182 workers shortage during, 102 World Zionist Organization (WZO), 16-17, 25, 98, 255. See also Zionist movement; organization worship, freedom of, 231 Y Yerida. See emigration Yevreiskaya Sektsia. See Yevsektsiya

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Yevsektsiya, 177. See also Yevreiskaya Sektsia Yiddish, 239-240, 248 Yishuv. See community; polity; organized, 44 "Yom Kippur War". See war Yored (Jewish emigrant from Israel), 245 Z Zeirei-Zion, 21 zero sum situation, 46, 258 of resource allocation, 47. See also Jewish-Arab relations Zion, negation of, 259. See Jerusalem; Land of Israel; Israel Zionism; 14-15, 16-17, 85-86, 237 as civil religion, 246 and in-gathering the exiles, 222 "Israeli", 247 as secular ideology, 68-69 as rebellion against God, 169, 173 reinforce Judaism, see Judaism religious reinterpretation of, 69, 169-173. See also redemption. Zionist Executive, 173, 255 Zionist movement, 15, 16-18, 25, 94, 169, 280 opposition to, 18 organizations, 10, 17, 45 settlement of Palestine, 276-277 socialist version of, 69 revisionists, 32, 51

ties with the Bolshevic enterprise, 21. See also World Zionist Organization (WZO) Zionist policy: before establishment of Israel, 11-13, 17 Jewish participation in, 255-257 non-Zionists, 15-16 Zohar, Ezra, 243

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