A Life To Live...

by Israel Kipen

Professor Muraoka who had arrived in the latter half of 1980 to take over the Chair of Middle Eastern Studies read my Hebrew Honours essay. When I visited him to discuss my intention to proceed to a Master’s degree, he urged me to concentrate on Ahad Ha’Am as a logical extension of my earlier work. He suggested that I give thought to an appropriate topic and return to him when I had decided. I agreed with the suggestion and decided there and then on a topic, which he immediately accepted. The topic was to be “Zionism and Realism in the Philosophy of Ahad Ha’Am”. A problem was, however, that I would not be able to obtain the necessary sources in Australia.

  The first unexpected sequel to obtaining my BA (Honours) degree was an invitation from the Department to undertake part-time tutorial work. Surprised and gratified as I was to have received the offer, I could not accept it as I intended to go abroad to engage in research towards the thesis.

  I left for Israel in early 1981 and spent five weeks in the Hebrew University Library at Givat Ram. There, all the sources I needed were at my finger-tips. I had also taken with me several letters of introduction and was particularly fortunate to have attracted the attention of Dr Gideon Shimoni, who showed an interest in my research and invited me to attend a tutorial on Zionism he was conducting. After those five weeks of concentrated work, I presented Dr Shimoni with a list of the material I had covered. He was surprised at how extensive my research had been and perhaps dubious about the bona fide of my list, but when he recognised that it was genuine, he said that I had covered the ground and could now return home to write the thesis. On returning, it took me a further six weeks to sort out my notes and then another month of solid writing to complete the thesis, which I submitted in October 1981. Professor Muraoka had supervised my work. Two copies of the thesis were sent abroad for assessment: one to Professor Yudkin at Manchester University, the other, unbeknown to me, to Dr Shimoni in Jerusalem. While I was awaiting the results, I was again offered tutorial work with the Department. This time, I accepted, even while doubting my competence for the job. Thus I began to teach when others of my age were already retiring. I found that my trepidations proved ill-founded and I enjoyed teaching as much as, earlier, I had enjoyed studying.

  The final assessment about my thesis was gratifying. Dr Shimoni was complimentary even though he did dispute one aspect of my analysis. Professor Yudkin was critical of the English rather than the content. My early apprehensions about my lack of formal teaching in English were realised. The Department accepted the thesis, however, but requested that its language be corrected where necessary by a qualified person. I asked Dr Ralph Beebe to do it and, the work done, I re-submitted it. Dr Beebe left for overseas within a day of completing his work on the thesis and happened to be in Israel at the time of Israel’s invasion into Lebanon in 1982. On his return from abroad, he phoned me and said how fortunate he had been to have worked on my essay, for it had given him an insight both into the complex issues confronting the country and the events which he had witnessed. He also urged me to combine my BA (Honours) essay with my Master’s thesis, add one further chapter to bring it up to date and aim towards its publication. Others who have read the works have made the same suggestions, but I have so far not done so.

  What was now in the forefront of my own mind, however, was whether to proceed towards a PhD I wished to continue in my field of special interest which was the vexing contemporary problem of Israel-Diaspora relations. Early Zionism could not have anticipated the post-World War II situation and the unpredictability of the realities and inter-relationships that would respectively affect the State of Israel, Israeli Jewry and Jewry outside of Israel. The problem is so marked by numerous complexities and ambivalences, constantly changing also with time, that it defies any precise formulation. To research the subject, both in its theoretical aspects and in its practical manifestations, would have meant the need to go abroad for several years, a consideration which was for us at the time beyond contemplation. We did, however, travel overseas in December 1982, during which time I looked into the prospects of working towards my PhD at Brandeis University whose collection of Judaica was world-renowned outside of Israel. I had conducted previous correspondence with the authorities here and carried with me a letter of introduction from Professor Muraoka. But no sooner did we arrive in Boston, in the middle of its harsh winter, than Laura, being Australian-born and suffering even Melbourne’s winters badly, said, “Forget it”. So our first contact with Boston put paid to all projected plans. It transpired further that American universities required two years of course work over and above work towards a doctoral thesis, another consideration which was unrealistic for me to contemplate at my stage of life. The upshot was that any notion of studying abroad had to be shelved.

  The Inaugural Meeting of the International Center for University Teaching of Jewish Civilization held in Jerusalem on 27-28th of December, 1981, at the Residence of the President of Israel. At the Head Table from left: Mr. Leon Dulzin (chairman of Jewish Agency), President Y. Navon, the Hon. Philip Klutznik (speaking). Facing the camera, the Australian invitees; Mr. & Mrs. Weis (Sydney), the author and Arnold Bloch (Melbourne).

  In 1981, a committee was established in Melbourne which had as its aim the furthering of Jewish studies at tertiary level. The initiative stemmed from the International Center for the University Teaching of Jewish Civilization which had just begun to function in Jerusalem under the auspices of Mr Yitzhak Navon, the President of the State of Israel, and directed by Professor Moshe Davis. Arnold Bloch was approached to set up a committee, on which I was in turn invited to serve. The International Center aimed to constitute itself into a world body and invited Arnold and myself to an international conference at the President’s residence on December 27, 1981. Some fifty people, among them outstanding scholars and leaders of our time, took part in the meeting which constituted itself as a Board of Regents under the Chairmanship of the Hon. Philip Klutznick, former Secretary of Commerce in the Carter administration and a past World President of B’nai B’rith. President Navon chaired the meeting which discussed guidelines for the International Center’s activities. Arnold Bloch and I participated in the discussions. During the lunch recess, Philip Klutznick sought me out to ask about Australia’s possible financial contribution to the project. In my view, I said, Australia could still only be looked upon as a beneficiary rather than as a contributor. I added, too, that any money that was raised locally would be wholly absorbed by local needs. Arnold Bloch and I returned from that meeting reinforced in our awareness of the urgency of tertiary Jewish educational needs for Australian Jewry.

  Nineteen eighty-three saw the dramatic and difficult events at Bialik College of which I have already written. In addition, I was teaching and became increasingly involved with the Joint Committee for Tertiary Jewish Studies. In that year, too, the university was beset by financial problems which also affected the Department of Middle Eastern Studies. The tightening of budgetary allocations to universities forced Melbourne University to review some of its courses. One consequence of this was that the lectureship in modern Hebrew came under threat. A sum of $10,000 had to be found to enable the course to continue. Support was also needed for Jewish studies at Prahran College. An amount of $15,000 was required annually to maintain the existing Jewish Studies course intact. As Arnold Bloch and I were the two business people on the Joint Committee, it fell to our lot to raise the money. Where, in 1983, funding arrangements with Melbourne University and Prahran College were made on an ad hoc basis, in 1984, the university pressed us for a more formal commitment over a longer period. Professor Muraoka was abroad during the first half of 1984, so I conducted negotiations with the Chairman of the Middle Eastern Studies Department, Dr Kazi, on behalf of the Joint Committee. It was during these negotiations that I learned the grievous news of Arnold Bloch’s terminal illness. I had, thereupon, to assume the leadership of the Committee as Acting Chairman. In that capacity, I concluded the negotiations, agreeing on a three-year funding program with a conti
nuing annual commitment.

  Having secured the continuity of the existing programs at Melbourne University and Prahran College, the Committee began to look at ways and means of expanding the range of Jewish subjects offered at tertiary level. While the Jewish community’s achievements at primary and secondary levels were exemplars to others, the Jewish studies scene at the universities gave scant reason for pride. Melbourne University, with a Jewish student enrolment of 300-400, offered only Classical and Modern Hebrew courses for which matriculation Hebrew was a prerequisite. In its Department of History, some Jewish history was included, but only within the context of German History as taught by Dr John Foster. Monash University, which had a still greater number of Jewish students, offered no Jewish studies at all. Attempts were set in train in 1983 to rectify these shortcomings by investigating the possibility of introducing Jewish history into the respective History departments at Melbourne and Monash universities. The universities themselves showed interest, but specified that these subjects could only be introduced through external funding. We considered the possibility of naming rights to a lectureship in return for funding. Monash University’s policy with regard to funding was at the time very strict and we were unable to implement it there.

  The author in conversation with Philip Klutznik in the presence of Prof. E. Rackman President of Bar-Ilan University.

  Melbourne University was more amenable to the idea and we thought we might begin with a trial three-year lectureship. We soon realised, however, that there were intrinsic problems and we shelved the notion. After Arnold Bloch’s death in 1985, the idea of a lectureship in Jewish History at Melbourne University was revived. The Committee concluded that a capital investment of $300,000 would bring sufficient return to pay for a tenured permanent lecturership. Tenure was viewed as highly important, as this would attract the better candidate to the position. It was also unanimously felt that the lectureship should be named after Arnold Bloch who had been the original instigator of the idea. The decision to raise $300,000 was taken at the April 1985 meeting of the Joint Committee and fell upon Professor Louis Waller and myself to implement. In August, Professor Yehuda Bauer of the Department of Contemporary Jewry at Jerusalem visited Australia. He was also a leading member of the International Center for Teaching Jewish Civilization in the Diaspora with which our Committee was affiliated. We used his visit to organise a one-day conference on August 21, in tandem with our Sydney counterpart. Professor Muraoka, Professor Bauer and I met with Professor Geoffrey Blainey, the Dean of the Faculty of Arts at Melbourne University, who responded positively to the idea of a lectureship in Jewish History. Also discussed was a system of mutual recognition between the Universities of Melbourne and Jerusalem, this facilitating the possibility of having PhD candidates undertaking research in Israel. The same support for the proposed lectureship was subsequently given by Professor G. Denning, Head of the Department of History, when Professor Muraoka and I discussed the project with him. The groundwork having been done, it was time to finalise arrangements. At a meeting held in the office of the Vice-Chancellor, Professor David Caro, and attended by Professor Blainey, Dr John Foster, Professor Louis Waller and myself, all issues relevant to implementation of the project were discussed and settled. The agreement cleared the way for all concerned to inaugurate the Lectureship in Jewish History at Melbourne University in 1986.

  At the 1986 meeting of the Board of Regents of the International Center at the Residence of the President of Israel. From left; Prof. Rabbi René Sirat of France, Prof. Natan Lemer, the author, President Chaim Herzog.

  The funding for the lectureship was ultimately obtained through the generosity of a handful of benefactors, two of whom provided the sum equivalent to the lecturer’s salary for the first three years. An appointment to the position was then made, with the course set to begin in March 1987. For reasons beyond control, however, the appointed candidate could not assume the position. Subsequently, Mark Baker of Melbourne was appointed Lecturer for an initial period of three years and he took up the position in January 1988, with a class of some sixty students, well above our most optimistic expectations and to the delight of all concerned.

  At a dinner tendered by the Dept. of History, University of Melbourne, on May 5th 1988, to mark the inauguration of the course in Modem Jewish History, and naming it in memory of Arnold Bloch.

  From left; the author, Prof. G. Denning (chairman, Dept. of History), Mr. Mark Besen, Prof. David Penington (Vice-Chancellor), Mr. Richard Pratt, Mrs. Elaine Bloch, Prof. Louis Waller, Mr. Mark Baker (lecturer in Modern Jewish History).

  17

  In Retrospect

  In the Introduction to this book, I recalled the circumstances which prevailed upon me to write it. Having now completed it, I still ask myself whether it was worthwhile or justified. I may have lived an eventful life, some of it dictated by historical chance, but even so, “eventfulness” is a relative notion. Every human life is eventful in a private sense, and who is to say that mine merits recording? I remain far from certain, even if it is already post-factum.

  The reason for this is basically two-fold. First, I have, by nature, not liked to look back on my life, nor to contemplate any past event and ponder over the wisdom or folly of any decision I have made. Second, I feel that the act of recording one’s own life story smacks of adding extra value to oneself, it contains an implicit judgement of one’s own importance, it carries with it a certain arrogance, something which is basically against my nature. For both of these reasons, then, the writing of this book contradicts the way I have lived and the way in which I see myself.

  To write one’s autobiography is, in a way, to relive one’s life. On looking at the reconstituted mirror of my life, some basic questions come to the fore. Having witnessed the falling of German bombs over Bialystok on the first day of World War II in 1939 and the surrender of the Japanese in Shanghai six years later, and having in the interim managed to outmanoeuvre Hitler, Stalin, imprisonment, ghettos and other ordeals known to that generation, I am prompted to ask how such a chain of events rates on the scale of free will, inevitability and destiny. As usual, it is far easier to pose the question than to answer it.

  In retrospect, some basic decisions that I had taken were seemingly acts of free will. The most fateful were my decisions to leave home against my parents’ pleadings, and to seek a Japanese transit pass on my Curacao “visa”, thereby becoming one of the early escapees through Soviet Russia. Through these actions, I enhanced my chances of survival, even if, at the time, no-one could imagine gas chambers, death-camps and the other measures that would be used to annihilate European Jewry.

  Given these decisions, the ensuing consequences could be logical or, probably, even inevitable. But where, then, does destiny enter? How am I to understand, or explain, the fact that shortly after I received my transit visa from the Russian Secret Police, the NKVD, the issuing of such visas ceased? Or the reprieve won in that unfinished house on the border a few steps from the Russian guards who sought shelter from the rain and lit up cigarettes but did not notice my companions and myself? Was this sheer luck? Was it destiny? I find these nagging questions difficult to answer. I recall my father citing instances from his own life in which he had made certain decisions, determined to follow them, only to have “an invisible hand”, as he termed it, lead him into the opposite direction. He was a deeply religious man, and therefore had no difficulty in ascribing the “invisible hand” to destiny. For me, the ambivalence remains, adding to the uncertainties of human fate from the moment one is thrown by birth into the uncharted waters of life’s endless possibilities.

  The reader who has endured reading this book will by now have formed some evaluation of its central character. The circumstances and actions described will have permitted the reader to gain at least an outward picture of the narrator. But what of the inner person with his feelings, motivations, personality, promptings and values, among other things? An autobiography cannot provide sufficient insight in
to all this. What has been the prime purpose behind this book is the wish to record the major events of the times through which I have lived and to bear witness to some issues of public interest, on which, through my involvement, I may, with some intimate knowledge, shed some light.

  And yet, on reflecting upon the matter in the attempt to understand myself, my actions, my human relations and priorities, I must conclude that overall the underlying trait is a constant dualism which seems to have directed my life and held it in balance: the dualism of realism and of dreaming, which prevented me from going overboard beyond either extreme.

  This balance between the two possible extremes has dictated my political-economic orientation and given me a yardstick by means of which to understand events. History has a strong fascination for me. It intrigues me, it draws me to its mysteries. The lessons it offers are endless in their variety, even while the motivations of men and nations reveal strong similarities through which we may comprehend events occurring in our own time. It has led me further to philosophy of history and, successively, to general philosophy, political science and economic theory, all of which have come to absorb me greatly through their interlocking circles of seeming cause and effect which I have tried to unravel in my limited attempts at comprehending past and present. Given the spectrum of human thought accumulated over the ages, it is not difficult to be eclectic. To whichever branch of wisdom one turns, there one will find variety of opinion equal to the number of adherents. Even if thinkers are fundamentally of the same hue, their individuality unmistakably comes through to add colour or shading to the basic concept. A wealth of nuances thus arises which gives cause to reflect with whom to identify and how much of that inexhaustible storehouse of human thought to accept. From Plato’s classical abstractions through to contemporary existentialism, the dual processes of evolution of thought and of social development have seemed to be marching hand in hand. Once one has managed to grasp that formula, one begins to sense that one has finally got hold of the Ariadne thread which may help to guide the mind to safety through the labyrinths of contradictory ideas, subjective logic and emotive reasoning of hypothetical and other propositions.