Rabbibrian's Blog

A Voice for Justice and Peace in Israel/Palestine

Howard Zinn, Israeli Political Leaders and the Holocaust

Posted by rabbibrian on January 31, 2010


Last week, Howard Zinn, the great Jewish teacher and activist, died leaving behind a profound legacy of a life long commitment to justice and human dignity for all people.  He was truly a Jewish hero who embodied  Jewish values in his life and work.  His life will always enrich and inspire the lives of the living.

Last week Israeli politicians, Netanyahu, Peres and others, were in European capitals exploiting International Holocaust Day to garner support for Israeli government policy.  The TV news here in Israel focussed at length on the public speeches and commemorations.  Commentators on radio and TV talked at length about the uniqueness of the tragedy of the Holocaust, not once relating it to the suffering of any other people, but only to the threat from Iran, Goldstone, and implicitly, from the Palestinians and Arabs.

I find the way Israeli political leaders use the Holocaust to garner support for their policies really disturbing.    It seems to me that by appropriating it to justifly Israeli political policies, they  belittle the enormous tragedy of the Holocaust.     They, and many American Jewish leadersת always emphasize the uniqueness of the event, thus disconnecting the enormous suffering of our people from the suffering of many peoples in history and the suffering of many people in our world today.

This view is the antithesis of the traditional Jewish view of suffering.  The Torah makes it very clear that our experience as slaves in Egypt must open our hearts to all who are enslaved.

As a tribute to Zinn, my friend, Mark Braverman, posted the text of the speech that Zinn gave in 1999 about the meaning of the Holocaust.   I was thinking about the staged public relations events in Europe when I read the piece.   I was so moved as it powerfully articulates a completely different approach to the meaning of the Holocaust.  I am copying it here and urge you to read it to the end.  It is long but so important.  I have taken the liberty of bolding some of the text.

Some years ago, when I was teaching at Boston University, I was asked by a Jewish group to give a talk on the Holocaust. I spoke that evening, but not about the Holocaust of World War II, not about the genocide of six million Jews. It was the mid-Eighties, and the United States government was supporting death squad governments in Central America, so I spoke of the deaths of hundreds of thousands of peasants in Guatemala and El Salvador, victims of American policy. My point was that the memory of the Jewish Holocaust should not be encircled by barbed wire, morally ghettoized, kept isolated from other genocides in history. It seemed to me that to remember what happened to Jews served no important purpose unless it aroused indignation, anger, action against all atrocities, anywhere in the world.

A few days later, in the campus newspaper, there was a letter from a faculty member who had heard me speak—a Jewish refugee who had left Europe for Argentina, and then the United States. He objected strenuously to my extending the moral issue from Jews in Europe in the 1940s to people in other parts of the world, in our time. The Holocaust was a sacred memory. It was a unique event, not to be compared to other events. He was outraged that, invited to speak on the Jewish Holocaust, I had chosen to speak about other matters.

I was reminded of this experience when I recently read a book by Peter Novick, The Holocaust in American Life.  Novick’s starting point is the question: why, fifty years after the event, does the Holocaust play a more prominent role in this country—the Holocaust Museum in Washington, hundreds of Holocaust programs in schools—than it did in the first decades after the second World War? Surely at the core of the memory is a horror that should not be forgotten. But around that core, whose integrity needs no enhancement, there has grown up an industry of memorialists who have labored to keep that memory alive for purposes of their own.

Some Jews have used the Holocaust as a way of preserving a unique identity, which they see threatened by intermarriage and assimilation. Zionists have used the Holocaust, since the 1967 war, to justify further Israeli expansion into Palestinian land, and to build support for a beleaguered Israel (more beleaguered, as David Ben-Gurion had predicted, once it occupied the West Bank and Gaza). And non-Jewish politicians have used the Holocaust to build political support among the numerically small but influential Jewish voters—note the solemn pronouncements of Presidents wearing yarmulkas to underline their anguished sympathy.

I would never have become a historian if I thought that it would become my professional duty to go into the past and never emerge, to study long-gone events and remember them only for their uniqueness, not connecting them to events going on in my time. If the Holocaust was to have any meaning, I thought, we must transfer our anger to the brutalities of our time. We must atone for our allowing the Jewish Holocaust to happen by refusing to allow similar atrocities to take place now—yes, to use the Day of Atonement not to pray for the dead but to act for the living, to rescue those about to die.

When Jews turn inward to concentrate on their own history, and look away from the ordeal of others, they are, with terrible irony, doing exactly what the rest of the world did in allowing the genocide to happen. There were shameful moments, travesties of Jewish humanism, as when Jewish organizations lobbied against a Congressional recognition of the Armenian Holocaust of 1915 on the ground that it diluted the memory of the Jewish Holocaust. Or when the designers of the Holocaust Museum dropped the idea of mentioning the Armenian genocide after lobbying by the Israeli government. (Turkey was the only Moslem government with which Israel had diplomatic relations.)

Another such moment came when Elie Wiesel, chair of President Carter’s Commission on the Holocaust, refused to include in a description of the Holocaust Hitler’s killing of millions of non-Jews. That would be, he said, to falsify the reality in the name of misguided universalism. Novick quotes Wiesel as saying They are stealing the Holocaust from us. As a result the Holocaust Museum gave only passing attention to the five million or more non-Jews who died in the Nazi camps. To build a wall around the uniqueness of the Jewish Holocaust is to abandon the idea that humankind is all one, that we are all, of whatever color, nationality, religion, deserving of equal rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. What happened to the Jews under Hitler is unique in its details but it shares universal characteristics with many other events in human history: the Atlantic slave trade, the genocide against native Americans, the injuries and deaths to millions of working people, victims of the capitalist ethos that put profit before human life.

In recent years, while paying more and more homage to the Holocaust as a central symbol of man’s cruelty to man, we have, by silence and inaction, collaborated in an endless chain of cruelties. Hiroshima and My Lai are the most dramatic symbols—and did we hear from Wiesel and other keepers of the Holocaust flame outrage against those atrocities? Countee Cullen once wrote, in his poem Scottsboro, Too, Is Worth Its Song (after the sentencing to death of the Scottsboro Boys): Surely, I said/ Now will the poets sing/ But they have raised no cry/I wonder why.

There have been the massacres of Rwanda, and the starvation in Somalia, with our government watching and doing nothing. There were the death squads in Latin America, and the decimation of the population of East Timor, with our government actively collaborating. Our church-going Christian presidents, so pious in their references to the genocide against the Jews, kept supplying the instruments of death to the perpetrators of other genocides.

True there are some horrors which seem beyond our powers. But there is an ongoing atrocity which is within our power to bring to an end. Novick points to it, and physician-anthropologist Paul Farmer describes it in detail in his remarkable new book Infections and Inequalities. That is: the deaths of ten million children all over the world who die every year of malnutrition and preventable diseases. The World Health Organization estimates three million people died last year of tuberculosis, which is preventable and curable, as Farmer has proved in his medical work in Haiti. With a small portion of our military budget we could wipe out tuberculosis.

The point of all this is not to diminish the experience of the Jewish Holocaust, but to enlarge it. For Jews it means to reclaim the tradition of Jewish universal humanism against an Israel-centered nationalism. Or, as Novick puts it, to go back to that larger social consciousness that was the hallmark of the American Jewry of my youth. That larger consciousness was displayed in recent years by those Israelis who protested the beating of Palestinians in the Intifada, who demonstrated against the invasion of Lebanon.

For others—whether Armenians or Native Americans or Africans or Bosnians or whatever—it means to use their own bloody histories, not to set themselves against others, but to create a larger solidarity against the holders of wealth and power, the perpetrators and ongoing horrors of our time.

The Holocaust might serve a powerful purpose if it led us to think of the world today as wartime Germany—where millions die while the rest of the population obediently goes about its business. It is a frightening thought that the Nazis, in defeat, were victorious: today Germany, tomorrow the world. That is, until we withdraw our obedience.

To which I want to shout “Amen!”   May his memory always inspire us to “withdraw our obedience.”


7 Responses to “Howard Zinn, Israeli Political Leaders and the Holocaust”

  1. Hersh Adlerstein said

    I am astonished that Howard Zinn’s diatribe – with which I to an extent agree – about universal Jewish concern for oppressed people everywhere gets used as an anti-Israel weapon at a time when Israel just played a major role in Haiti. Were there any Moslems, including Palestinians, rushing to aid Haitians? To use Zinn’s statement when it is both out of date and irrelevant to Israel’s relations with Palestinians is, to me, a shanda. I am not an admirer of the Netanyahu regime, but concern for Palestinians (which I share) should not be used to insult participants in Holocaust observances.

    Hersh Adlerstein, Adjunct Professor
    Florida International University
    Miami, Florida

    • rabbibrian said

      Thanks for your comment and for sharing your opinion. I wasn’t making any comment about Israel’s work in Haiti or whether Arabs were involved there or not. I don’t see the relevance to the use of the Holocaust for political purposes. My objection is not to Holocaust observances. I attend many such observances and have planned many over the years in various communities. My objection was to the fact that these observances were specifically designed to promote Israeli government policy. This is the understanding in the Israeli press about this, although they regard it as perfectly appropriate. I don’t want to insult participants in Holocaust observances, I want Israeli government officials not to use the Holocaust or Holocaust observances to promote their policies. The Holocaust doesn’t belong to them, nor is the meaning of the Holocaust that one must support Israeli government policy.
      Thanks again for participating in the conversation. I appreciate the dialogue.

  2. Irene said

    Howard Zinn is dead. Long live Howard Zinn! May his memory be a blessing.

  3. Rabbi Brian,
    Zinn’s passing is huge for many of us. I took great interest in this particular lecture of Zinn’s due to my own project. I think that “unique” is what i would term every Genocide however, i do argue that the Holocaust has a uniqueness (not special, better, superior, more victims) but the smaller details as stated and much more importantly the world wide intention of the majority of the powers to exterminate all Jews at the time. As I have been interviewing what are now the remaining the last survivors, i come away feeling that they are especially upset about the many genocides that have taken effect post-holocaust, and some are even deeply critical of IDF policies. This is a tough one for me, and at times this blog is good for me to read the ways that we interpret the world, what we leave out and what we let in….Hope all is well with you. Salaams and Shalom.

    • rabbibrian said

      Thank you, Mehnaz, for your comment and your inspiring work. I personally don’t think we should attribute the word unique to any particular genocide of which there have been far too many! The genocides carried out in many Western countries, like the U.S., Australia and others, were vast, brutal and unimaginable. The same is true of the Holocaust and of the other genocides committed since then. The problem with ascribing uniqueness is that it is part of an exceptionalism that disconnnects the particular tragedy from other tragedies and puts it in a category on it’s own. Exceptionalism is very seductive to all human beings and societies but it does not reflect reality. Our similarities as human beings far outweigh the differences.

      Your work in countering Holocaust denial in your own community is so courageous and important but I wonder whether you could still do your important work without ascribing uniqueness to the Holocaust.

  4. Thanks, Brian, for your post. Zinn was a tzadik for our time and we are all poorer for his passing.

    It’s worth noting that every religious tradition has both its exceptionalist streams and its humanitarian streams. The job of religion in our day, it seems to me, is to bear witness to the universalist aspects at all costs and disavow the exceptionalist aspects in no uncertain terms.

    Zinn was not a religious man, but his call to universalize the lessons from our Holocaust experience is certainly a part of Torah tradition, which commands us 36 times (more than any other mitzvah) not to oppress the stranger, because we were once strangers in the land of Egypt. What is this, if not the universalization of the lessons of our own experience and pain?

  5. […] Read More at: Rabbi Brian […]

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