A Life To Live...

by Israel Kipen

  My life story spans three continents and traverses some of the most heart-breaking and most salutary events in human experience. Insofar as the Jewish dimension of that experience is concerned, I have attempted, in the early part of this narrative, to re-create that pre-War world as I knew it “that is no more”. Tragic and barbaric as was that chapter of European history and no matter how deeply it touched anyone who was part of it, and survived, one had to get on with the business of living.

  Australia to which I came at war’s end has proved a haven both for me and for my surviving family. I cherish its freedom, its political institutions and its sense of fair play which, by and large, pervades it. I have witnessed immense changes in the development of this continent, while the process of change is still on-going. As I see it, Australia is still at the beginning of its historical destiny in the world community at large and in the Pacific region in particular. The 21st century will probably see serious challenges confront the nation. As an outpost of Western civilisation in close geographical proximity to a resurgent East, it will be faced with both opportunities and pitfalls that will tax the wisdom of its population and leadership alike. I would like to believe that the current post-war multicultural restructuring of the nation which is relatively less burdened by those pernicious nationalistic notions of the older world will serve to broaden Australia’s collective outlook. The self-assurance and national pride that has attended its successful post-war development should not hinder the nation from finding its rightful place and contributory role in tomorrow’s world.

  On a more specific note, Jewish life in Australia has evolved almost beyond recognition since my arrival here. There are some who are pessimistic about the long-term future of Jewish life on this continent. I am more optimistic. What concerns me here is the definition of “Jewish life”. The parameters contributing to such a definition have both local and global sources and are, to a degree, bound up with future relations between Israel and Diaspora Jewry, relations which may become more complex as time goes on. Similarly, Zionism, though it will remain a historical-political concept, will probably continue to change in content. In philosophical terms, I have always been an Ahad Ha’Amist in my understanding of Zionism, none of the events of the last forty years being such as to make me reconsider this orientation. That is, I have continually held, with him, that a Jewish state must also be a “spiritual centre” for world Jewry. What troubles me profoundly is that not only has this view not materialised fully, but that, in the wake of present trends in Israel, there may in fact develop a deterioration of the relationship between world Jewry living in free and open societies and an Israel coming increasingly under internal influences and pressures. These differences between the two carry seeds of dissonance which may dilute the Ahad Ha’Amic ideal, as well as the existing ties between the two.

  This, then, is my postscript. In the Jewish understanding of life, “it is not for you to finish the work, nor are you altogether free to desist from it.” The first part of that statement is reassuring. A life’s work can never be completed and to that extent the wisdom of the sages salves one’s conscience at a time when nature tells one to let go, to loosen the grip. As for the second part of the aphorism, it has come to carry as much applicability in old age as in one’s creative years. In the past, I did not consider myself free, in this context, from responsibilities other than to myself. Indeed, it became an axiom with me that if my life was to have any meaning, I had to extend the boundaries of my concerns beyond those of self-interest. That imperative has remained with me till today, when arguments to desist may appear the more compelling.

  And yet, having said all this, I must admit to doubts. I am led to reflect upon the Solomonic view of life as a “vanity of vanities”. Are all the rationalisations, justifications and analyses of one’s actions and attitudes nothing but well-disguised vanity which, seen in the best light, is the constant subconscious factor of our conscious motivations? If this is so, what can one do about it? Is it sensible to accept Ecclesiastes’ conclusions and summations about life as the ultimate truth? And if one does so, particularly early in life, what incentive is left to live one’s own life and fill it with whatever purposes one would otherwise bring into it?

  Surely, the Solomonic conclusion is considered wise because it was reached in retrospect after a life lived and because it makes the ultimate reality acceptable with greater equanimity. We usually do with our lives what we can and hope for the best. What lies in store in every tomorrow is life’s challenge, while every enigma mocks one’s self-assurance and self-reliance. Some of the most cherished hopes and aspirations invariably remain unfulfilled, while the apprehension of inadequacy in the face of such helplessness is the constant reminder of the limits that are built into a person’s presumed capacities.

  To the sum of all these doubts, one more question taxes me now, namely: Is there life after an autobiography?

  18

  Dr Kipen’s Address after Receiving the Degree of Honorary Doctor of Letters

  Occasional Address – Dr Israel Kipen, 14 March 2007

  Chancellor, distinguished guests, graduands, ladies and gentlemen.

  An interesting anniversary falls for the English-speaking world this year and I mark it tonight. In 1807, the then President of the Royal Society considered that it would be disastrous if working men could read, since it was feared that these literate men would then spend their time reading Tom Paine. Whilst that was usually considered inappropriate for the working class at the time, we stand tonight to demonstrate the academic progress of the last two hundred years. That same time span of two hundred years also approximates the years of European settlement here. The magnitude of the development of Australia in such a relatively short period parallels the growth of the availability of general education and university education to the masses. We stand before the academy this evening as proof of that progress.

  With time, the demands of society resulted in changes within universities. With the development of science came technology and employment opportunities, which required that universities become skill-oriented. Early European universities oriented primarily toward the humanities, which were considered basic for a university education. The emergence of science faculties and the huge cost of pure knowledge made it almost impossible for the well-educated scholar to emerge as a university graduate with both the original foundation of the humanities and technical/vocational qualifications. Some would say that those once-preeminent humanities were sidelined in the process. A bold change has been embarked upon by this university, under the leadership of its current Vice-Chancellor, Professor Glyn Davis. It is to the great credit of the University of Melbourne that the shift back to humanities is restoring Arts to their rightful place in the terrain of the tertiary education landscape whilst also enabling students to gain technical/vocational qualifications, as double degrees are increasingly available and desired. Perhaps, other universities will follow this post-modern pioneering spirit.

  Sixty years ago, the British philosopher Bertrand Russell was of the opinion that “the teaching of history as opposed to literature, a smattering would be of great utility. Such a course should deal with the history of men, not with the history of this or that country and should begin with the oldest facts known through anthropology and archaeology and should give the sense of gradual emergence of those things in human life which give men such a place in our respect, as he may deserve.” Very specifically of higher education, he then went on to say, “I think that higher education should do what is possible, whilst promoting not only knowledge, but wisdom”. He continued, “every educator who has engaged in the attempt to make the best of their students to whom he speaks, must regard themselves as the servant of truth and not of this or that political or sectarian interest. Truth is a shining goddess, always veiled, always distant, never wholly approachable, but worthy of all the devotion of which the human spirit is capable.”

  Whilst his comments about male and female gender
roles reflect his own time, I share with you now some of my own journey throughout my life. Throughout my life, my interests have been philosophy, history, politics and economics. The interconnectedness of these disciplines is illustrated by Benedetto Croce (1866–1952), the Italian political philosopher of the early 20th century who suggested that “the history of philosophy is the philosophy of history”. I could go on in great detail about the geopolitical placement of the Australian continent, relative to its colonizing motherland, England. I could review the past notion of the geographical separation from Europe, in what past faculty member Emeritus Professor Geoffrey Blainey named The Tyranny of Distance (1966). However, those yesteryears have been reshaped by the virtual shrinkage of the world. Australia might now be said to rejoice in “blessed proximity” instead. Australia in the south is now placed firmly within a broader understanding of Asia. On the one hand, we have links to the Indian subcontinent in the west and on the other hand, to the nations of the eastern seaboard; Japan, China, Southeast Asia and those in between. This places Australia at a new regional apex. Oh what a lucky generation you are, to be young, educated, and living under a system of government in which democracy, fair play, stability and mateship are still the core characteristics of our society. Equality of opportunity is enshrined in our national ethos. Our polyglot, multicultural society is at the base of our social structure here and underwrites our individual and collective wellbeing.

  And now, my personal journey. When I was your age, I applied for admission to the University of Warsaw, in the capital city of my home country, Poland. I was admitted in 1938, the year prior to the outbreak of World War II, to the only academic faculty still admitting Jewish students under the restrictions of “numerus clausus”, the restrictive quota system which discriminated against Jews. Whilst I could attend lectures, I was marked out as a Jew because I could only take my place in the “ghetto” which operated within the lecture hall. I had to seat myself on the left-hand side of the lecture theatre, which was reserved for us Jews, alone. Jewish students preferred to decline those allocated seats and stood in protest at the rear of the hall, taking notes without the benefit of desks.

  I refused to comply with the two-tiered system which anticipated much more sinister consequences that would come within only one year. So, I left the university under my own volition in 1938. I could see the clouds on the horizon. I became a refugee when Poland was invaded by Nazi Germany. In 1940, I ran away to Lithuania and took up residence in its capital city Vilnius. I was not able to register as a student there, but I was entitled to audit all the classes. However, I was soon made to realise that it was time to withdraw once again, when because I was a Jew, I was attacked at the gates of the campus. I was thrown to the ground and kicked repeatedly. I finished up with a multi-coloured face and a broken nose. They would be the only souvenir of my Polish and Lithuanian university educations. I was deprived of the opportunity to study until conclusion of my working life as a new immigrant in Australia. Tonight, I perform dual tasks. Not only have I accepted the honour of delivering this address, but as a fellow past Arts graduate, I also take the opportunity to thank the University for providing affirmation of those long-past solid European academic foundations and a fully-fledged Australian BA, whose benefits I could only attain in my retirement.

  This largely youthful graduating class tonight has had the great advantage of having achieved graduate status in the freedom of this great university. And whilst you are yet to take advantage of the education which you have received here, I extend on your behalf, your thanks to our university for the privilege of having become its latest graduating class. Dear fellow graduands of the University of Melbourne, if your lives are enriched by the experience of having studied here as mine has been, you will hold this moment to have been a triumph of opportunity, one which makes a mockery of the elitist musings of the former President of the Royal Society. As you commence your journeys as graduates, I hope you look back on your student days here with an affectionate nostalgia. And as you accumulate success in your chosen professions, I hope you will pause in your future lives for moments of gratitude to the teachers who have launched you to become what you truly hope to be.

  Thank you, Chancellor.

  The occasional address delivered at the graduation ceremony of The University of Melbourne on the occasion of the conferring of the degree of Honorary Doctor of Letters at Wilson Hall on March 14, 2007