section—that _galuth_ is a very evil thing, and that the only way to
escape the ills which are inevitably bound up with it is to escape from
_galuth_ itself. But this truth of itself tells us nothing, if we cannot
at the same time discover the way to “the only way.” To say to a poor
man: “If you want always to be sure of a meal, get rid of your poverty
and become rich!” or to a sick man: “If you want to be free of your
pains, get up from your bed and be well!”—to say this is to say nothing,
unless at the same time you show the poor man how to get rich, and the
sick man how to get well. Now Zionism has not shown us how to get out of
_galuth_. For all the sophistication in the world cannot do away with
the cruelty of hard facts, which do not allow us to picture to
ourselves, even approximately and in a general way, how our work in
Palestine, even if in time it develops up to the very maximum of what is
possible, and covers the whole land with gardens and orchards and
factories, can accomplish this unprecedented miracle: that so small a
country as ours should absorb hundreds of thousands of immigrants at a
time, year by year, without coming to such a crisis as would drive out
its old and its new inhabitants in even greater numbers. But if this
miracle does not happen, and the Palestinian settlement develops only
little by little, concurrently with the development of the country’s
economic resources, then it is impossible to deny that its gradual
expansion will not diminish the number of Jews in other countries (since
their natural increase will offset the exodus to Palestine), and will
not put an end to their wandering and scattering to all the corners of
the globe under economic and social pressure, which is brought to bear
on them from time to time in every country in which they become too
numerous. In other words: the hope for an “ingathering of the exiles”
has no basis in reality; and even in that distant future to which we
look forward, when the Palestinian settlement will have reached its full
development, and the Jews there will grow and multiply and fill all the
land and make it their own by their work—even then the majority of Jews
will be scattered in strange lands, and their life in those lands will
even then depend on the good-will of the peoples among whom they live as
a small minority, and the dominant peoples will even then look askance
at the growth of this “alien body” in their midst if it dares to rise
above a certain level: and finally _galuth_ in the physical sense will
still be with us, and only a part of the people will have escaped from
it—that comparatively small part which will have had the good fortune to
rebuild the waste places of our land and to attain national freedom
there, while all the rest of the people, scattered in strange countries,
will remain as to its external condition just as it is, and no fleet
will set sail from Palestine to protect it from persecution.
But if this is so, have we a right to regard the rebuilding of Palestine
as an ideal for the whole nation, and its success as vital to the hopes
of the whole nation?
We have! For _galuth_ is twofold—it is material and spiritual. On the
one hand it cramps the individual Jew in his material life, by taking
from him the possibility of carrying on his struggle for existence, with
all his strength and in complete freedom, like any other man; and on the
other hand it cramps no less our people as a whole in its spiritual
life, by taking from it the possibility of safeguarding and developing
its national individuality according to its own spirit, in complete
freedom, like any other people. This spiritual cramping, which our
ancestors used to call, in their own fashion, “the exile of the Divine
Presence,” and for which they shed not less tears than for the exile of
the people, has become especially painful in our time, since the
overthrow of the artificial wall behind which the spirit of our people
entrenched itself in past generations, in order to be able to live its
own life; and now we and our national life are enslaved to the spirit of
the peoples around us, and we can no longer save our national
individuality from being undermined as a consequence of the necessity of
assimilating ourselves to the spirit of the alien life, which is too
strong for us. Now it is this problem of spiritual _galuth_ which really
finds its solution in the establishment of a national “refuge” in
Palestine: a refuge not for all Jews who need peace and bread, but for
the spirit of the people, for that distinctive cultural form, the result
of a historical development of thousands of years, which is still strong
enough to live and to develop naturally in the future, if only the
fetters of _galuth_ are removed. And though the refuge contain only a
tenth part of the people, this tenth part will be sacred to the whole
people, which will see in it a picture of its national individuality, of
what it is like when it lives its own life, without external constraint.
And who can estimate in advance the strength of the influence which this
national centre will exert on all the circumference, and the radical
changes which that influence will produce in the life of the whole
people?
Some of the _Chovevé Zion_ arrived at this idea, as I have said, some
eighteen years ago.[60] Had they succeeded in making it common property,
it might have saved both the people and the land from many mistakes. But
ideas do not develop quickly in the human mind, and this idea, like
others, met with formidable obstacles, which did not allow it to
penetrate fully into men’s minds. When this opinion of a minority was
made public, a shudder went through the Zionist camp, as though the
presence of a destructive enemy had been detected. Nor was this instinct
wholly mistaken. The movement was then only just beginning to spread
among the masses, and here was an attempt to give it a form which must
alienate the masses, who want above all things an escape from their
material troubles! It is possible that men did occasionally say to
themselves: “What does it matter? Those few who can really find a quiet
life and a livelihood in Palestine at the present time—will they refuse
to go there unless they are assured beforehand that they are bringing
complete redemption to the whole people? And the men who work for the
ideal—they are of course bound to get quite clear in their own minds
about the real purpose of their work, with due regard to actualities, so
that they may set about their task in the way best suited to achieve
their purpose.” It may be that people occasionally indulged in such
reflections in secret. But we live in the age of democracy, and
everybody believes that only the masses are the source of light and of
progress, and that any ideal which the masses cannot grasp is mere
nonsense. While it is true that in those days the democratic character
of Zionism was not proclaimed from every house-top, as it is to-day, yet
even the early _Chovevé Zion_ were unconsciously democrats in this
sense, that they regarded the masses not merely as material for the
national building, but as conscious architects, deliberately intent on
making such a building as the national purpose required. Hence they were
scared by the idea that their propaganda would not go down with the
masses if they put forward the spiritual revival as their only object;
and they went on telling the masses that redemption was at hand if only
they would give their whole-hearted support. But in spite of all this
they did not succeed in creating a real mass-movement, because the
masses not only heard what they said, but also saw what they
achieved—and what they achieved was not calculated to confirm the belief
that this was the way to redemption. It was only when western Zionism
came and proclaimed that it had found a new and “practical” way to
achieve the object—the way of diplomacy in the courts of East and
West—that the masses followed its flag for a short time, believing in
their simplicity that diplomatic documents would be the “paper
bridge”[61] over which they would soon pass to the land of their
fathers—and then an end to _galuth_ and its miseries. But when the hopes
of diplomacy were disappointed, the masses once more lost faith in the
possibility of escape from _galuth_; and when at the same time they saw
a slight chance of an improvement of their condition in the land of
their exile in a not distant future, they turned in that direction. So
the masses are deserting the Zionist flag before our eyes, and—what is
still more painful—they sometimes take the Zionist flag with them and
tack it on to the flag of another camp.
When the history of Zionism comes to be written, the historian will not
be able to pass in silence over an extraordinary inconsistency of
contemporary Zionist propagandists and writers. When they are trying to
attract the people to their flag, they wax enthusiastic over the lofty
mission of Zionism, which is to end our exile and to deliver the Jews
from all their troubles; and at the same time they gird or scoff at the
“spiritual” Zionists, whose unfeeling hearts soar skywards while their
brethren are afflicted and their blood is shed like water—and so forth,
and so forth. But these same men, when they confront the opponents of
Zionism, who ask to be told clearly how Zionism can end our exile if it
cannot gather all our scattered hosts into Palestine—then they take
refuge in the spiritual mission of Zionism, and instead of “blood shed
like water,” they expatiate on our spiritual slavery and the
impossibility of developing our spiritual powers in exile. This jumping
about from one side to the other, which shows clearly how weak is the
belief in a material redemption of those who stand up for it, has become
especially noticeable since the question of “Uganda” came up and since
the birth of “Territorialism,” which was really latent in the Zionism of
material redemption. All those who had become Zionists only for the sake
of saving the people from persecution could not understand how it was
possible to reject the Uganda proposal, or any other similar proposal
which seemed to offer us the desired salvation—“a secure home of
refuge”—merely on the ground that we wanted Palestine and Palestine
only, though we did not know when, if ever, it would be given to us. And
what was the answer of the “Zion-Zionists” (a name, coined in the Uganda
period, which also will interest the future historian)? Did they try to
show that our scattered hosts could be gathered more quickly and more
easily into Palestine, or that in Palestine we should be better able
politically to protect the Jews of the Diaspora? No! They had recourse
to the “spirit,” and openly admitted the bitter truth that neither in
Palestine nor in any other territory could we gather all our exiles from
the four corners of the globe; that the object of Zionism was only to
establish “a secure home of refuge” for a minority of the people, which
should become the centre of the whole people and influence it
spiritually; and that this object could be achieved only in Palestine,
the birth-place of our national spirit, and in connection with our
historic memories and so forth. In fact, they adopted the whole
philosophy of the “skyward soaring” school, only adding a few misplaced
“political” phrases for form’s sake. But after the Seventh Congress,[62]
when the doubters had left the organisation and the “Zion-Zionists” were
left to themselves, with nobody to ask awkward questions, they reverted
to their old tactics; and now once more they dangle before the people
the old promises of “an end to _galuth_.” Meanwhile, however, a general
movement for liberty, affecting all the nations in the Empire, arose in
the land of our exile[63]; and in our own midst new propagandists began
to hold out to the people new promises and to speak to it in a new
language, which the masses found very agreeable. And so the Zionists
began to change their tune, so as to win over the masses. “Political
work in the Diaspora?—Of course! It is an essential part of Zionist
work. Revolution? Why, who so revolutionary as the Zionists?
Socialism?—The very basis of Zionism!” And not alone that, but even the
Palestinian work, to which in the end the Zionists returned, after they
had awoke from the dreamland of diplomacy, took on a new epithet:
“_real_ work in Palestine.” The public must understand that Zionists are
not “reactionaries” pursuing a “spiritual” will-o’-the-wisp, but genuine
“realists,” and their work in Palestine is “real” work. But if at the
Eighth Congress the opponents of “real” work (there are still such among
Zionists) propound their doubts again, and demand an explanation of the
value of such work from the point of view of the ingathering of the
exiles and the redemption of the people, then, I fear, the champions of
“real” work will be compelled once more to have recourse to the “spirit”
in order to justify their “realism.” For the fact is that all work in
Palestine, of whatever kind, _material or spiritual_, so long as it is
properly done, is “real” (that is, calculated to achieve its object and
in harmony with actual conditions) only from the point of view of the
spiritual redemption, because whatever strengthens our material and
spiritual position in Palestine is a source of added strength to our
corporate national spirit, and therefore brings us nearer by much or by
little to our spiritual goal. But as for the redemption of the people
and the end of _galuth_—that “real” goal is no more brought nearer by
all this “real” work than we get nearer to the moon by jumping.
Thus Zionism is always running after the masses—and the masses run away
from it.
A well-known economist has correctly indicated one of the principal
causes through which the doctrine of Marx made greater headway than
similar doctrines before it. Marx, he points out, made his socialistic
movement the movement of a definite section of society—the
“proletariate”—whose condition and wants inevitably produce in each of
its individual members a deep-rooted and powerful desire for a change in
the social order, and which is therefore really fitted to fight unitedly
and patiently for the attainment of the ideal that promises the
satisfaction of their common demands. His predecessors in the
development of Socialism, on the other hand, appealed vaguely and in
general fashion to “the people,” “the poor,” and similar undefined
entities.[64]
A similar statement may be made about Zionism, though in a negative
sense. One of the principal causes that have prevented Zionism hitherto
from finding a firm and secure foundation is the fact that it has not so
far succeeded in recognizing and defining its own “proletariate”—its
natural body of supporters, which is really fitted to fight unwearyingly
for the Zionist ideal, without being turned aside to follow any other.
From its inception until the present day, Zionism has appealed to “the
people” generally. But “the people” is not its natural support, because
the only want of which the great majority of the people is sufficiently
conscious—the want which alone, therefore, can form the basis of common
national work—is the need for freedom from material pressure. So soon as
we leave this common ground, we find the people divided into parties and
classes, whose conscious demands differ in each case, and whose relation
to our national life, therefore, in each case takes on a different form.
If, then, Zionism could really point the way to our material
regeneration, it would doubtless unite under its banner the whole
people, without distinction of party or class, except, perhaps, that
small minority which is already “emancipated” from all national ties,
and stands on the threshold of another way of escape from _galuth_. But,
as I have already said, the people does not see in Zionism the way to
its material regeneration, and cannot see it there, because it is not
there. The unsophisticated masses have always a “feeling for reality”
that prevents them instinctively from believing in promises inconsistent
with the reality before their eyes. It is only occasionally, in times of
deep distress from which there is no escape, that the masses will listen
to a promise of redemption that lets a ray of comfort into their hearts;
but they turn away and disregard it so soon as they see hope of a remedy
more in touch with actualities. It is not strange, therefore, that
Zionism, brief though its life has been, has already experienced many a
sudden rise and many a sudden fall in the popular estimation, its
fortune varying with circumstances. But is a people subject to such
changes fitted to be the rank and file of a movement based on a long
history, confronted by numerous obstacles, and demanding strenuous,
wisely-directed, ordered effort, without sudden leaps backwards and
forwards?
I think, then, that the course of events will compel Zionism to come
gradually to understand itself and its supporters: to understand itself
as a national movement of a _spiritual_ character, whose aim is to
satisfy the demand for a true and free national life in accordance with
our distinctive spirit; and to find its supporters in that nationalist
section which is sufficiently conscious, in all its individual members,
of this demand, and which in a certain sense may be called a “spiritual
proletariate.”
For, in spite of all the numerous latter-day sections of Jews, with
their abbreviated names, it is still doubtful whether among all our
“S.D.” and “S.S.”[65] with their ceaseless talk about their
“proletariate psychology,” there is really any considerable number of
members who can properly be held to belong to the proletariate in the
Socialist sense of the word. The mission of the proletariate is to
hasten the Socialist solution by the concentration of wealth; and this
mission can be fulfilled only by those who work in large industrial
undertakings. The work of the master-workman and his assistants is not
proletariate work, because, so far from hastening, it hinders that
solution. Now the working-class Jew has practically no place in the
large industrial undertakings; generally speaking, the so-called
proletariate section of the Jews belongs to the class of master-workmen.
But, on the other hand, there is among the Jews, and only among them, a
proletariate in another sense—in the sense indicated by the combination
of “national” and “spiritual.” The position and the needs of this
proletariate, which are common to all its individual members, compel it
to feel a deep-rooted and powerful desire for a change in the
established order; but the change desired in this case is not a
concentration of the means of production, but just the opposite. What is
wanted is a new means of production, wherewith to create a product of a
special character. Among all civilised nations ours is the only one that
has no special means of production of its own wherewith to create its
spiritual and intellectual wealth, but is compelled to make use of the
means provided by other nations—their languages, their literatures,
their schools and universities, and so forth—and thus to enrich the
owners of these means of production by its work. But the proletariate
that produces material wealth receives in payment at least a part of the
wealth produced by its labour, and only the surplus is left to the owner
of the means of production; whereas in our case almost all the result of
our toil goes to swell the wealth of others. Our own national treasury
is impoverished and empty; our own distinctive spirit dwindles and
dwindles. And yet we are rich in spiritual and intellectual powers, and
do productive work in every branch of life. This condition of things is
distressing to all Jews whose kinship with their people is not one of
blood merely, but whose national consciousness and general culture have
developed to such a point that they can both understand and feel the
deep tragedy of this national degradation. For the people so degraded
produced thousands of years ago, for itself and with its own means of
production, a store of spiritual wealth from which the world still draws
sustenance; and it is impossible for them to imagine that all the
endless sacrifices, with which for two thousand years our people has
paid for the preservation of its spirit and its own form of life, are to
have no result except to bring us at the present day to a condition of
spiritual emptiness, the end of which will perhaps be a contemptible
death. This constant feeling of distress necessarily impels these men to
work for the freeing of our spirit and the products of our labour from
alien dominion. Where there is a real want, be it physical or spiritual,
there is a solid basis for a union of forces in joint work for the
satisfaction of the common demand. And so it is the men who are really
conscious of this want who form the only section specially fitted to
support the Zionist movement, and to work for it unitedly, patiently, in
an organized manner, until its goal is reached.
I am fully aware that not all who feel this need are as yet convinced
that they must unite under the banner of Zionism. Many of them still
believe in the possibility of freeing the Jewish spirit, and continuing
its internal development, even without a national centre. But they will
change their minds when that spiritual freedom in exile, for which they
wait, is attained, and when they see the net result of their hoping to
“sing the Lord’s song in a strange land.” In Western Europe and in
America, where the desired freedom has already been granted, and its
effect on our national life is obvious, the conviction is already
spreading that external freedom, the removal of the heavy hand of
oppression, is not in itself sufficient to free our innermost spirit
from its moral bondage to the strange environment that surrounds us on
all sides in our exile. And this conviction will inevitably spread in
Eastern Europe also when the external chains are broken there. Our
people will then be able, within certain limits, to live a national
life, in accord with its own spirit, just so far as it wills to do so.
But _it will not be able so to will_. The will itself does not depend on
free choice. A man may wish to will, and yet be unable, because at that
particular moment the necessary conditions are absent, without which the
will cannot become an active force. So, too, in the case of a nation.
There can be no active national will to live a distinctive spiritual
life, even though permission be given under the hand and seal of the
ruling power, where the individuals who compose the nation are
surrounded by a spiritual atmosphere foreign to them, and breathe this
atmosphere whether they will or no, without seeing in the whole world
even a square yard of ground which their national spirit, and theirs
alone, pervades, subject to no foreign overlord, and in which it creates
with its own means of production enough spiritual wealth to satisfy the
whole people.