A Life To Live...

by Israel Kipen

  Linton was followed by Max Nurock as the first Israeli ambassador to Australia. Nurock was originally from Ireland and very much a product of British culture and manners. He possessed all the refinement required of an ambassador, but did not convey the authentic ebullient spirit of Israeli society.

  By that time, the Zionist movement worldwide found itself in a quandary, in terms both of philosophy and practical politics. Zionism internationally was led primarily by General Zionists, whose counterpart in the Israeli Knesset were the Liberal Party who sat on the opposition benches. Meanwhile, the State was governed by the Labor Party (Mapai) under the towering leadership of David Ben Gurion. Further, the recipients of the funds raised, the Jewish Agency-Keren Hayesod, were also Mapai-controlled. This was one source of disaffection. Another was the fact that Israel’s expectations of a mass immigration of Zionists from abroad did not materialise. While Zionists everywhere threw themselves feverishly into work and donated money, time and effort for the benefit of the State, the overwhelming majority of Jews elected to stay where they lived. That was a particularly bitter emotional blow to Israel’s leadership and people, which, consequent upon their attainment of independence and their victories in the field of battle, alighted upon a proud nationalism that came to claim that no Jew could call himself a Zionist who did not live in Israel. Gradually, the word “Zionism” changed its meaning, and, instead of indicating something edifying, turned to an expression of derision. In the ‘fifties, when an Israeli wanted to tell somebody he did not know what he was talking about, he would say, “Ata medaber Zionut” (You are talking Zionism).

  The outcome was that a significant ambivalence enveloped the Zionist movement worldwide. Israel’s position was not without a clear logic of its own. If Zionists did not physically participate in building the State, then in what way were they any different from non-Zionists? If anything, they were the non-Zionists who were the large donors to Israeli causes; big money was rarely to be found in the Zionist camp. Now that the State had its own ways of bestowing honours and attention on individuals without being politically obligated to them, it followed that Israel could begin courting the Jewish non-Zionist leaders in the wider world and thereby extend the range of people working on its behalf with possibly more satisfactory results. The Israeli leadership knew that the Diaspora Zionist would continue working for the State, no matter what policies and attitudes the State assumed. Its new orientation was predicated on a premise of having much to gain and little to lose.

  In line with this, a strong World Zionist Organization was not perceived by Israel (read Mapai) as being in its best interests. By way of illustration: Dr Abba Hillel Silver, the outstanding American Zionist leader, had, at the 22nd Zionist Congress, been the moving force behind the stand adopted there towards Britain – a stand which forced Chaim Weizmann out of the Presidency and out of the Congress itself. In persuading the Congress to adopt the stand, he had had an ally in David Ben Gurion. Yet when he visited the established State, he was both ignored by Ben Gurion and kept in private and political quarantine by Mapai. The shift in Israel’s interests was not lost on other sections of world Jewry, the non-Zionists, who came to be courted more concertedly by Israel. Their “farsightedness” in not being officially Zionists was now rewarded by a certain recognition of their prominence and importance. In America, they diminished the standing and prestige of the Zionist Organisation of America by depriving it of the control of the Appeals Funds which they had earlier let slip from their control. To deprive the Zionist Organization of its effectiveness was to keep hold of the purse-strings.

  Dr. Morris Perlzweig of the World Jewish Congress on a visit to Australia in the 1950s. On the stage; M. Ashkenasy QC (speaking), Dr. M. Perlzweig, N. Jacobson, S. Wynn and author.

  In global terms, the fate of the Zionist movement was sealed by the successful manoeuvres of the Israeli leadership acting within American Jewry. For obvious reasons of sheer number, no other Jewry in the world had as much clout or as many dollars to merit such special attention as the American. Increasingly, as American Jewry was swayed, so was world Jewry, the telling argument being that one did not have to be a Zionist to be a friend of Israel. Those who had been detached from Israel, or even hostile to the idea of a Jewish state, joined the ever-increasing numbers of supporters of fund-raising appeals. To give money for Israel became the litmus test for friendship and recognition. The Zionist organisations everywhere were still doing the same things, making the same efforts, and being as emotive in their ingrained commitments and philosophical convictions, but they were no longer the organisations they had been. This was the new reality behind Zionist work.

  Then came 1956, and the combined English, French and Israeli move against Nasser’s nationalisation of the Suez Canal. The lightning strike of the Israeli forces across the Sinai desert and its accomplishments, all within 100 hours, contrasted starkly with the ineptitude of British planning and French support. The world at large was treated to the second instalment of Israeli military prowess, only to be followed by the Eden Government fiasco which sealed its political fate. A new surge of enthusiasm swept world Jewry as it witnessed the unbelievable feat of mobility and tactics displayed by an army only eight years old. It all came to nought, however, by the intervention of Foster Dulles who reflected the American view that the Suez action was a throwback to old-style British and French colonialism and vying for supremacy in the Middle East. In the event, Ben Gurion was compelled to recall the Israeli army, and thereby save Nasser.

  At that time, Nathan Jacobson had been President of the State Zionist Council for a year and I was one of its three vice-presidents. Jacobson himself was out of Australia during the Suez War. The news caught the world at large, and the Jewish communities besides, unawares and unprepared. In terms of accepted international protocol, the situation was very delicate. There was an obvious need for Jewish spokesmen to come forward to explain the background to the conflict and the reasons behind the unfolding events. On the second day of the campaign, I received an urgent call to attend a lunch-time meeting at the office of the Jewish Board of Deputies. Aaron Leibler was then the President of the Board, Trevor Rapke was its Chairman, and Maurice Ashkanazy was President of the Executive Council of Australian Jewry. There were only the four of us. I represented the State Zionist Council. There was a widespread apprehension about events and a feeling that some action on the part of the Jewish community must be undertaken. Leibler agreed on communal representation while Ashkanazy offered to go before the public to justify events. I supported them; Trevor Rapke demurred. While we were still discussing the issues, Ashkanazy bade me to go to the phone and book a hall for a public meeting at short notice. I did so. On my return, the tension around the table had risen; Rapke, arguing that “only over my dead body would a public meeting be held”, stood his ground against all efforts to dissuade him; and, at meeting’s end, the hall, booked a mere half hour earlier, had to be cancelled. Rapke was at the time a renowned barrister and Judge-Advocate of the Australian Navy. He was later to become a judge of the County Court.

  By 1957, the closure of the Suez Canal to world shipping was affecting the international economy as well as Israel. The State Zionist Council called a public meeting at Samuel Meyers Hall, St Kilda, to discuss the situation. The speakers were Dr H.V. Evatt, Arthur Calwell and myself. Nathan Jacobson, as head of the State Zionist Council, presided. The hall was packed. Dr Evatt fittingly took the opportunity to recall some poignant moments in the battles that had taken place in the Palestine Committee of the U.N. a decade before, and the momentous sequelae. After the close of proceedings, I was surprised to see Mr Calwell come towards me, take my hand and congratulate me “on a very fine speech”.

  The Appeal emissary for 1956 was Joseph Sapir. It signalled a significant advance in the Australian Jewish community’s standing in Israel, for he was a man of high calibre in the yishuv, a member of a long-established family, and both leader of the Liberal Party and Minister of Commerce i
n the coalition government. Being a General Zionist, I shared a number of interests with him and a mutual affinity developed between us.

  The Suez affair had created a new momentum in the Jewish world and accelerated the process of Jewish awareness and identification with Israel’s fortunes. Further, the events had such grave political repercussions upon England, while the closure to world shipping had such far-reaching consequences for the world economy that they long remained an issue in the international press. Through that singular event, world interest became continually focussed upon the Middle East, and where Israel had earlier been of merely parochial concern among supporters and detractors, it now became a central feature in global news and attention. Jews no longer had to wait for weekly Jewish newspapers to learn of what was taking place in Israel and its surrounds. The most prestigious news agencies came continually to concern themselves with what took place there – and to do so in a positive way. This focussed attention had an inevitable flow-on effect on world Jewry at large. For if Israel could become a legitimate point of international interest, then it was legitimate too, and indeed persuasive, for Jews who had earlier stood as spectators on the sidelines to become intellectually and emotionally involved as well. Jews could not escape the issue, for it had taken on a universal dimension and catapulted itself into the world’s wider orbit.

  It was in this context – and in an atmosphere of pride – that we received the news that Moshe Sharett, the first Minister for Foreign Affairs (later to become the second Prime Minister of the State of Israel) was to be the guest speaker at the 1957 Israel Independence Day celebrations in Melbourne. His visit confirmed the upgrading of Australian Jewry in Israel’s estimation. The visit was a timely shot in the arm in bolstering the community’s enthusiasm.

  The reception planned for the Sharetts was on a scale different from any other till then undertaken. As organisers, we had no doubt about the likely response of the community to his presence. Without hesitation, we booked the Festival Hall which seated 8,000 people. We were proved right beyond our expectations. The house was sold out, the atmosphere electric, the event unforgettable. Further, the public relations aspect of the visit was also unprecedented. The Sharetts were invited as guests of the Government of Victoria. I accompanied them to Parliament House where Mrs Sharett and I were given a box seat, while Moshe Sharett sat within the Chamber of the House beside the Speaker and was formally welcomed by a motion passed on voices. Parliamentary etiquette provided that such visits took 30 minutes while the guests listened to parliamentary proceedings, after which they were escorted from Parliament House. On our way back in my car to their hotel, Sharett said that I probably assumed his sympathies in the parliamentary debate rested more naturally with Labor, which was then in opposition. “You will be surprised if I tell you that my sympathy was with the Government and Mr Bolte, for the simple reason that I know only too well what tzores (troubles) an opposition can cause.” I was indeed surprised, but, on reflection, I both appreciated his honesty and understood the pragmatism of his outlook.

  The following day, the Sharetts went to Canberra as guests of the Federal Government. The visit – as Sharett was later to report on his return to Melbourne – proved very successful. There had been one episode, however, that had left him troubled. Having again sat on the floor of the House of the Parliament during its session, Moshe Sharett was afterwards tendered an official luncheon. He had been sitting to the right of Prime Minister Robert Menzies, and the conversation turned to the ingathering of Jews into Israel, to the ma’abarot, to the enormous financial costs of rehabilitating those newly incoming Jews, and to the bitter reality, both in political and ideological terms, of having some of the new arrivals leaving the State for America and other destinations. Whereupon, according to Sharett, Mr Menzies had turned to him and said, “Much as I sympathise with you in this, you should not be surprised that this is happening. After all, what have you to offer the people? You have housed them in tents, you cannot employ them, nor can you give them political stability and security. Look at us. We go to England and to the most poverty-stricken areas of the country, the mining regions, where we meet with the miners who seldom see the sun or the light of day, and we offer them free passage to Australia. We guarantee them work, accommodation, open spaces, and present them with a choice of climates, and when they come they receive everything promised to them. However, after a while, some decide that they do not like the local pub or the local newspaper or whatever. They pack up and return to the grime and poverty and leave everything offered here behind. Why, then, should you be surprised that some of your immigrants leave for other places?” It was this parallel comparison between Jewish immigrants to Israel and British immigrants to Australia that had left Sharett troubled, all the more worrying in the light of the difficult economic circumstances that prevailed in Israel at the time.

  Among my most memorable experiences connected with the Sharett visit was our tour to Tasmania. The minuscule Jewish community there was in dire straits. Geographically isolated and dwindling in numbers, the island’s Jews were in a general state of apathy. We decided to inject some enthusiasm into the community by taking the Sharetts there. I accompanied them to Hobart. As we flew over the Tasman, Sharett turned to me and said, “Israel, you are taking me under false pretences. You told me we were travelling interstate, but I see that we are going overseas!” Mr Jacobs, the Chairman of the Jewish community of Hobart was awaiting us at the airport. So were a photographer and interviewer from the Hobart daily, which ran a front-page story about Sharett’s visit in the afternoon edition. Hobart was frosty in May. Mr Jacobs was wearing spats, something I had not seen since leaving Europe. He took us to his home for a sumptuous lunch, during which Mrs Sharett remarked that we were at the very end of the world. It was an observation and sentiment I well understood. After lunch, our host insisted on driving us about the city. Sharett was weary, but he accepted the invitation nonetheless, even though he could scarcely keep his eyes open during the drive around the Derwent River where every curve revealed new panoramas of late autumn beauty. We returned with time to rest before dinner and the function that had been scheduled for 8.00 p.m. in the historic Hobart Synagogue.

  As we arrived, people were coming to the synagogue, police were present, as was also a lone enthusiast from some missionary society who insisted that Moshe Sharett take a leaflet from him. Among the audience were assorted people numbering about 50-60 in total, some young, others no longer young, but all clearly pleased that their small community had not been overlooked or ignored. As we waited, Mr Jacobs pointed out one man who was a professor at Hobart University. Before that occasion, no-one had known he was Jewish. After Sharett and I had spoken and a collection was conducted for the United Israel Appeal, I was approached by a man with darkish skin and an undefinable appearance. He introduced himself. His name was Spanish. “I’m a descendant of the Marranos,” he said. At that, a shiver went through me. I was incredulous, and I found it hard to speak, as, here, literally at the end of the earth, there came forth a man with a most complex past seeking to identify himself and wanting to be known and counted. In that moment, five hundred years of Jewish history flooded my mind, compounded by both a sense of pride and of national tragedy blended into one. As he talked, I had the impression that by revealing his past and affirming his belonging, he was simultaneously unburdening his soul. I was deeply shaken by the experience, as were Mr Jacobs and the Sharetts when I told them of the encounter. Moshe Sharett had similar stories of his own to tell, particularly relating to his visits as Minister for Foreign Affairs to various Jewish communities. On one occasion, on his arrival at Buenos Aires, a huge crowd awaited him on the tarmac, some on horseback. These had proved to be farmers living on Baron de Hirsch colonies, a number of them having ridden over 400 kilometres to greet him.

  Another episode that has remained with me of Sharett’s visit is a conversation several of us had with him about Australia. In the course of the conversation, mention
was made of certain private land holdings in Queensland and Western Australia being as large as a quarter-million square miles, and that it would take jackaroos months of constant work just to mend the fences around such properties. As the figure of a quarter-million was dropped, he winked and said, “I like and respect you, but I find it impossible to believe what you are telling me.” His response was wholly understandable. It was almost inevitable that a man who represented a country of a mere 8,000 square miles should have difficulty in believing that single holdings should be of such magnitude. To prove the matter, we arranged for Queensland colleagues to invite him to such a homestead.

  The visits of Joseph Sapir and Moshe Sharett placed Australian Jewry on the Jewish map. Despite the geographical distance between Australia and Israel and Australia’s isolation from the main nerve centres of the Jewish world, relations between Israel’s leadership and Australian Jewry developed in mutually beneficial ways. From the Zionist Federation standpoint, such evolving closeness was of the utmost importance. The internal structures of the World Zionist Organization and the allocation of annual budgets to the Federation and to its constituent State Councils were managed through the World Zionist Organization. Every visit by leading Israeli personalities, in turn, served to extend Israel’s knowledge of the Zionist movement in Australia and enhanced Australia’s image in its eyes. For, what those visitors found was most unique and impressive. The Zionist Federation at the federal level and the Zionist Councils at state level were the true and effective umbrella organisations that brought together the diverse fund-raising bodies, political parties, youth movements and other groups into a single, harmonious, coordinated framework that, in turn, worked for the benefit of Israel and local Zionism alike. Such harmony and co-ordination were wholly essential; with Australian Jewry being numerically as small as it was, no organisation could develop and function independently of the whole. Consensus was thus the only effective way each could achieve its purposes. Beyond this, the Zionist Federation, usually in conjunction with the Executive Council of Australian Jewry, had formal relations with the Federal Government and its ministers. The Australian model worked so well that it became the envy of much larger communities in the world. The internal struggles that were waged within the Zionist movement in the U.S.A. and the problems associated with two Zionist Federations such as existed in Great Britain were often, to their discredit, contrasted with the state of internal peace that prevailed in Australia. In the English-speaking world, only the Zionist Federation of South Africa compared in structure, harmony and effectiveness with the Australian Federation, Australia’s sister organisation being, however, more energetic, a consequence of that country’s greater Jewish population and stronger ethnic cohesiveness.