The more I overhear conversations on the tube about the EU referendum, the more I bounce around the echo chambers of social media, the more I get repelled by the firing of “facts”, the more it appears to me that this debacle of a debate is being fought between crusaders of certainty and an all-to-average army arguing for common sense without a common touch.
The challenge for Remain is that the case for our ongoing membership of the EU is overwhelmingly moderate and pragmatic, but it seems we are living in a period of populist simplicity in the face of complex challenges.
Whatever the result tomorrow, pragmatic progressives, compassionate conservatives, muscular moderates – all those interested in sensible solutions – need to offer a viable and vibrant vision for an interdependent world.
A vision that doesn’t perpetuate poverty for the millions in the Global North, and the billions in the Global South, for whom the promise of globalisation is – to put it lightly – failing to deliver.
A vision that doesn’t rob future generations of a planet that can sustain life, or deny them the social services that can meet their needs.
A vision that embraces equality and diversity, with an image of integration that doesn’t equate to assimilation and alienation, and recognises there are some wholly understandable unsettling aspects of the unprecedented movement of people across the globe.
A vision where the flow of capital and the dynamism of markets offers genuine social mobility, and seeks to provide a productive and prosperous life for the 100%, not hyper-consumption by the 99% to pay for the excess and luxury of the 1%.
It’s disappointing and, at times, disgusting how the Leave campaign have manipulated genuine frustrations and concerns about jobs, housing, public services and social cohesion. The saddest part of the crass scapegoating of the EU – and far worse the xenophobic blaming of immigrants – is that whilst it might offer simple comfort, for the poorest and most vulnerable i our society, it will never offer the hope and freedom being disingenuously peddled by Farage, Johnson and Gove.
If we Remain, it will likely be a victory for British conservatism and sticking with the status quo, rather than a triumph for passionate and progressive pragmatism. The broader fight to win people on the Left and Right over to moderation and practical politics will also remain.
Looking around the world, I feel scared by the rising rhetoric of simplicity, blame and cynicism – rhetoric that has, at the very least, played a part in the murder of one politician, and stoked violence within politics in supposed civilised societies.
For all our sakes, and not just tomorrow, we need pragmatism to trump populism.
I’ve been confused by the different reactions to gentrification and immigration for a while. This example in Brick Lane is close to me in more ways than one.
“…the homes where the “real Eastenders live”. But for how long will this corner of the East End remain authentic?”
“Rich people bring money but they don’t bring anything else with them – no art, no culture, no community spirit.”
Why is an immigrant community with a few decades connection to an area considered more “authentic” than locals in Dagenham or Newham who have concerns about how their community is changing?
How can someone be quoted, without challenge, slurring and generalising “Rich people” when any piece on changing populations in a different context, that lazily included sweeping generalisations, would rightly fall foul of our justified disdain for stereotypes and prejudice?
Before anyone gets the wrong idea, I’m not endorsing “locals only” anti-Immigrant sentiment. I’m genuinely curious as to why young professionals or internal migrants seeking a better life and social mobility are treated one way, but freedom of movement and economic migration of those seeking a better life from further away are treated another?
Consider this context. Three of mine and Adam’s parents grew up in the East End; two of our parents are immigrants (one from India and one from a Yemenite immigrant family to Israel); I was the first in my immediate family to go to university; Adam the first in his to get an MSc; We’re both from working class roots and would now be categorised as professionals and middle class.
We moved to Bow and escaped the trap of “generation rent” with support from the government, our families, and fortunately having the option available to grind out a year living with my parents.
Are we evil gentrifiers?
Immigrants’ children done good?
Rich invaders with nothing to offer the local community?
Social mobility success stories who are also coming back to their parents’ former community?
I’m using our example not to make this all about us, rather to highlight the prejudices and inconsistencies in my fellow lefties’ critique of migration and changing communities.
Of course gentrification has some negative consequences, just as in some specific communities, the additional demands on public services or pace of change associated with immigration, are very real elements of the predominantly positive impact of immigration. We on the left balk at the simplicity and sensationalism of the debate on immigration. Perhaps we need to be similarly skeptical when discussing gentrification.
Local and global economic forces are causing migration between and within countries, unsettling the more settled local communities. Critiquing these changes and encouraging greater community minded approaches should be key to the left’s response; creating a hierarchy of deserving and undeserving locals should not.
Pride is a party. Pride is political. Pride is mainstream. Pride is selling out. Pride is pointless. Pride is powerful.
I’ve been to Pride in London four times, Tel Aviv three times and Jerusalem twice. Whilst London may lack the beauty and the beach of Tel Aviv, and not be accompanied by the religious and political significance of Jerusalem, it still seems worthwhile. Yet this year it seems more of those I’m close with have questioned the worth of Pride in London.
I’ve had friends tell me it’s a waste of time; it’s lost its political purpose; and it’s covering up the troubling underbelly of real problems within the LGBT+ community.
What I find odd is that these cynical critics, from a community that challenges society to reject binary absolutes, can’t acknowledge that Pride can be all of those things AND still be positive, political and powerful.
Let’s start with the corporate selling out. I’m as skeptical as others about how genuine CSR and triple bottom line policies are in the balancing act with profits. Yet what is undeniable is the scale and reach even small actions by huge companies can have. Barclays, this year’s main sponsor of London Pride, have some credentials to suggest this is not simply a marketing ploy for the Pink Pound: “Barclays spectrum network for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) staff has 3000 members. The bank ran the British finance industry’s first transgender awareness event at its Canary Wharf base, as well as becoming the first UK bank to feature a same-sex couple in one of its adverts” (Evening Standard). My favourite part of Barclays sponsorship was seeing cash machines across London spreading the message of the #FreedomTo campaign.
There’s positives and problems with corporate sponsorship. It’s not black OR white. It adds a little grey to the rainbow.
Them there’s the charge that the hedonist celebration ignores the abuse, addiction and alienation within the LGBT community.
Over the top hedonism (limited as it is) may be off putting for some, but central to Pride’s being is parading a joyous acceptance of the many people we are.
More importantly, groups marching yesterday included Broken Rainbow, It Starts With Me, and the London Lesbian & Gay Switchboard – all highlighting not only the problems and difficulties we in the LGBT community have to confront, but the time, dedication and talent of the volunteers and charities who are here for us to address these challenges.
There’s positives and problems present to show the parade isn’t celebration OR cover up, adding a little more grey to our rainbow.
Lastly, the complaint that the political potency of Pride has been diluted.
It has, because thankfully the nature of our political struggle – at least here in the UK – has softened. Yet this doesn’t diminish the poignancy Pride can still have for thousands in the crowd, young participants and those who’ve come out later in life, to feel safe, comfortable and confident.
Millions are reached through reporting on the event, including those in places where being gay is far more dangerous than London, who maybe see a message of hope in a country, which created the laws and tactics akin to Section 28 causing injustice in other parts of the world, now being a place where we have equal marriage and Pride has little legal discrimination to challenge.
Pride isn’t pointless OR powerful. A tinge of grey may be added to some views of the rainbow, but we’re holding it up for more to see.
Pride is a party AND Pride is political. Pride is mainstream AND Pride is selling out. Pride is pointless AND Pride is powerful.
It may be less certain than “We’re here. We’re Queer. Get used to it” but maybe, as we wave our grey infused rainbow, we can call out: “We’re here and there. We’re questioning. Get confused by it.”
I’m 6 years old. My oldest brother is playing in a regional rep team football match. The best – or perhaps only – memory I have is that we drove along the A1 from London to Newcastle. I’m in the back nagging my Dad to stop at the many Little Chef restaurants along the route. Eventually Dad agrees to stop at every fifth one. I collect enough tokens for an Italia 90 inflatable ball.
It’s a cousin’s Bar Mitzvah and I’m huddled in a car listening to a radio with what feels like 13 other boys. A dramatic goal from David Platt against Belgium and England are surprisingly building momentum.
One night in Turin. Old rivals line up. My other older brother’s hero Waddle wobbles – and skies the decisive penalty, kicking me in the gut with my first experience of a very unique sense of anguish.
6 years later. Even my new American sister-in-law is caught up in the frenzy of football so nearly coming home. Gazza is rehabilitated and sparkles against Scotland. Pyscho is resurrected and scores a penalty against Spain. SAS demolish the kings of total football 4-1.
Football had well and truly got my world in motion.
At the two tournaments I have my first proper memories of, England reach the semi finals (we’ll ignore the ’94 turnip debacle). Just a few years later my boyhood hero scores one of the greatest ever World Cup goals – without a hand of god in sight. I finally understood what my Dad and two older brothers were on about. I’d caught the football bug.
More recently, maybe unsurprisingly as a spurs fan experiencing repeated painful last day of the season disappointment (only Spurs can lose a penalty shoot out they weren’t even on the pitch for!) – I’ve occasionally fallen out of love with the beautiful game.
More seriously, being a gay football fan who’s interested in social justice does make it hard to blind myself to the uglier sides of football; the racist, sexist and homophobic language on the terraces that would never be tolerated in homes or offices; the awarding of the globe’s greatest sporting spectacle to those exemplars of fair play Russia and Qatar; the eroding effects of obscene concentrated wealth, either in the hands of those blue teams buying up the Premier League or palming the hands of those allegedly bribing their way to positions of influence or gobbling up FIFA votes.
On one cold night in Burnley, I even heard people I’d grown up with defending Spurs fans’ right to chant the following, debasing the Christian hymm ‘Dance, Dance, wherever you may be’:
Sol, Sol, wherever you may be,
You’re on the edge of lunacy,
We don’t give a f#%$ if you’re hanging from a tree,
You black gay c#%$ with HIV
So no one needs to convince me there are bizarre ways football allows seemingly educated and decent people to behave appallingly.
And yet as I read the articles in the build up to Brazil 2014, as I hear football’s coming home – or better get World in Motion playing on my iPhone, I can’t resist the growing excitement. And not just because it’s a great sport and an incredible spectacle, or an excuse for some harmless tribal banter.
What other industry offers an equal playing field for boys and men of all races and creeds to realise their dreams? What other career has helped thousands of people become quickly and steeply socially mobile? What other mega industry has almost all it’s big players (companies and individuals) giving so much back to local communities and good causes? What other human interest unites billions of people with a shared passion?
Football might not be untarnished beauty, but neither is it wholly hideous.
It might not be perfect and it might not ever feel as good as a 6 year old rapping along with John Barnes, but I’m relishing the thought of 32 days – and my inner child – coming home to football.
For five days I am attempting to live – well eat – on £1 a day as part of the global Live Below the Line campaign.
The initiative seeks to mobilise thousands of activists and their networks to play a greater part in addressing the injustice of 1.2 BILLION people for whom trying to survive on £1 a day is a fact of life, whilst generating support and funds for impressive and inspiring charities and projects working day in day out to support communities in extreme poverty to develop themselves and their communities towards a brighter future. Read more about the cause and the challenge.
When I first supported others taking part in this project a few years ago, I was ambivalent about the idea. On the one hand I am encouraged by any attempt to raise awareness about global injustice and make a tangible difference to people and communities in the Global South. Yet on the other hand, there was the sense that this was playing at poverty. Since signing up to participate myself, I have had some people challenge me with accusations that this is patronising and possibly more detrimental to progress in the fight against extreme poverty. The criticism usually covers the following:
People choosing to live on £1 a day can never truly experience living below the line
Poverty isn’t only a development issue, there are plenty of people closer to home who struggle to afford to eat
Privileged middle-class well-intentioned campaigners shouldn’t play at being poor – it is only those who experience a particular injustice or disadvantage that should speak to that experience and represent the cause and call for change
In this blog, I hope to respond to some of this criticism.
1. “You’re not really living below the line”
Of course I am not! Living in London with the benefits of home and work and only having to cover food costs with £1-a-day will never compare with the many interrelated factors and experiences of a life struggling to survive in extreme poverty. No one I know who has taken part in this campaign has ever tried to claim that by doing so they have an understanding of properly experiencing life below the line. The campaign is a tangible and creative tool to raise awareness and funds to support people who are living in extreme poverty. LBTL engages those who enjoy the benefits of a globalized consumer society with the injustices of that society, whilst offering ways for them to play a part in redressing those injustices.
Every person taking part has conversations with friends, families and colleagues, as well as emailing, tweeting and Facebooking those that sponsor them. As a minimum, more people will be aware that there are 1.2 Billion people living on less than £1 a day. They’ll also be aware of some of the causes of extreme poverty and be connected with charities and lobbying that is seeking to change the situation. They’ll also be aware that development, policy changes and most importantly the determination of millions of citizens of the Global South is working – a few years ago the figure for those in extreme poverty was 1.4 Billion – that’s 200 million people (or close to three times the population of the UK) who are no longer living below the line.
2. “What about poor people here at home?”
The fact that in a developed economy 913,318 people required three days emergency food assistance last year is shocking. The other stats from the Trussell Trust as well as this ‘Breadline Britain‘ video highlight there is clearly much poverty here at home to be hugely concerned about.
I’m keen to avoid entering a debate about which poverty or injustice is more important to address, especially as in my experience those volunteering and campaigning on issues of global injustice are also those involved with supporting and seeking change for those people locally who are living in poverty. Nevertheless, whilst some sections of UK society and individuals are struggling, there is a welfare state, safety net, and abundance of food nationally that together alleviate – to a certain extent – the persistence and extremity of poverty and hunger in the UK. For all the appropriate dismay about the Bedroom tax, when you consider that if you have a roof over your head, hang your clothes in a wardrobe, and put your food in a fridge, you are wealthier than 73% of the world’s population, it seems fair to distinguish between mainly relative poverty or acute (and still shocking) times of hunger and whole countries or large parts of countries where there is not enough food for almost all the inhabitants, where there is no safety net, and where the experience of hunger is a daily and constant struggle.
Despite extreme poverty in the Global South being its focus, Live Below the Line does indirectly address the challenges facing those in the UK who struggle to afford to eat healthily. As those taking part are seeking to eat on £1-a-day in the UK and witnessing the choices you have to make in supermarkets and when weighing your food, many of the conversations and awareness raising become about difficulties of eating with limited funds closer to home.
Although, if I am honest, I’ve had a probably unpopular response to buying cheap food for five days in the UK. It has highlighted the lack of nutritious and fresh food, as well as the monotony of your choices (see my Sainsbury’s basics food shop below). On the other hand the ease of accessing food in a supermarket on a budget of £1-a-day that allowed me to eat three meals daily; have some fresh fruit; still make some ethical choices (Fairtrade bananas loose are pretty cheap and Sainsbury’s basics fish fingers are sustainably sourced); and have a few snacks during the day reaffirmed my sense that, whilst awful and unfair, the inequality in the UK is very distinct from the hunger facing 1.2 Billion people in the Global South.
3. “Check your privilege”
Having recently reconnected with the world of student politics I have encountered a view that suggests only those who have the experience of a particular disadvantage or injustice should represent that experience or lead on seeking to redress it. Sharing this sentiment, the criticism of those taking part in the Live Below the Line campaign is that they are usually middle-class privileged white people in the West who are patronising those who actually live in extreme poverty – not just by the nature of this campaign, but in their arrogant assumption that they can speak on these issues and take action on their behalf that will seek to improve the situation.
Live Below the Line isn’t about experiencing what those who truly live in extreme poverty live with. It is about encouraging those who live in the privileged position of being above the line to question their identity, consider the power that comes with their privilege and the responsibility they have the opportunity to assume in seeking to redress an injustice.
Structurally people cannot experience someone else’s specific disadvantage or injustice – and Live Below the Line does not advocate that participants speak as though they have the experience of extreme poverty. Yet emotionally, people can gain a glimpse into the choices people living with limited funds in the UK have to make when trying to eat, as well as gain a taste for having to be constantly mindful of how and what you eat.
I recognise all human experience is unique, and some groups in society face particularly challenges that rightly deserve structural intervention. I agree that in the main these challenges require those who are from those groups to represent themselves and lead that change. Nevertheless, as a child of mixed heritage, whose parents left school without qualifications, who is a first generation immigrant, queer, Jewish man, I encourage anyone who wishes to take part in my struggles against prejudice and am heartened when they seek to gain a sense for how it feels to be disadvantaged due to socio-economic background, ethnicity or sexuality.
Live Below the Line doesn’t arrogantly ignore the privilege of living in a developed country and having the choice to eat on £1-a-day. It seeks to engage a greater audience of those who have that privilege with considering how their privilege impacts on the disadvantage of those living in extreme poverty. Our choices to mass produce cheap meat, our decision to subsidise farming in the USA and the EU, and our allowing of speculation on food prices are just three examples of how we privileged westerners contribute to a situation where millions live in extreme poverty. A campaign that seeks to raise awareness of this, whilst raising millions of pounds supporting communities who are leading their own path out of extreme poverty, whilst not perfect, seems worthy of support rather than snipping critique.
Let’s not make the good the enemy of the great.
If you would like to sponsor me and make a real difference to those for whom living on £1 a day is not a choice, please click here.
This was originally posted on 22nd April 2013 on Huffington Post (doing some updating of this blog).
The week before last was a little historic. The week before last the UK said goodbye to its first and only female prime minister. The week before last the ghost of one of the Iron Lady’s harshest pieces of legislation was further laid to rest. The week before last I went back to a Jewish school for the first time as an openly queer Jew sharing my story, representing Keshet UK, which champions the inclusion of LGBTQI people in all areas of Jewish life in the UK. The week before last, for the very first time, pupils in a Jewish school addressed homophobia and encountered a positive young LGBT Jewish role model. Moreover, these pupils engaged with supportive perspectives on homosexuality (both Orthodox and Progressive).
I left school in 2002, one year before Section 28 was repealed by New Labour. For the entirety of my primary and secondary education, schools and teachers, banned from “promoting homosexuality,” simply didn’t discuss homophobia or the diversity of sexual identity or highlight information that could have helped LGBT young people be happier and healthier.
Don’t get me wrong: People who came before me and my peers had it a lot worse, and with LGBT life and personalities far more visible today, modern LGBT teenagers face a different set of challenges. When I was at school, the expression “that’s so gay” wasn’t the pervasive playground putdown it is now. Indeed, Stonewall’s school report reveals the following troubling statistics:
“More than half (55 per cent) of lesbian, gay and bisexual pupils have experienced direct bullying”
“Almost all (99 per cent) gay young people hear the phrases ‘that’s so gay’ or ‘you’re so gay’ in school”
“Three in five gay pupils who experience homophobic bullying say that teachers who witness the bullying never intervene”
“Two in five (41 per cent) have attempted or thought about taking their own life directly because of bullying”
Sadly, in faith schools, homophobic bullying and the response to it is even worse: “Only half of gay pupils report that their schools say homophobic bullying is wrong, even fewer do in faith schools (37 per cent).”
So it was with huge excitement and pride that I spent a few hours with pupils at a Jewish secondary school, storytelling for change and showcasing the range of Jewish voices on sexuality and broader campaigns standing up for LGBT young people.
Part of the session was a version of Keshet UK’s activity “Pride and Prejudice: Being Young, Jewish and Queer.” In these sessions a speaker from our group of diverse and open volunteers meets groups of young people, shares his or her experience of growing up Jewish and LGBT and takes questions in a safe and sensitive space. Some of the questions that the students asked me pertained to whether being gay is something biological or sociological, whether it’s easier to come out to friends or to family, whether being more typically “masculine” makes it tempting to stay in the closet, and whether my largely positive story is representative of the experiences of young LGBT people. I was moved by the overwhelming sincerity of the questions and the positive responses to the connections being made with the universal experiences of growing up.
Pupils in the session with Stonewall’s “Some people are Gay. Get Over it.” posters, also translated into Hebrew, although with more Chutzpah as “There are people who are Gay. So What?”.
The session wasn’t just about homophobia; it was about addressing the difficulties that all young people face when it comes to fitting in while wanting to be themselves. As Matthew Todd points out:
[T]he most fundamentally important, yet hitherto ignored fact about homophobic bullying [is] that it is not a gay issue. Despite the them and us portrayal of gay righst by some, it is the kids of straight people (including Daily Mail readers) that this is happening to, every day in every school in the land. The truth is that homophobia destroys not only individuals but also families.
I’ve been volunteering and working in youth, community and social action roles for over a decade, yet only recently have I felt comfortable mixing my public life with my personal story concerning issues of social justice and sexuality. Previously, when asked what motivates me, I shared my experience of coming from a mixed Indian-Ashkenazi Jewish home, where my mother and her family were immigrants; of always being told as a child that my mother can’t be both Indian and Jewish; and of finding meaning in Jewish values and our collective narrative of “being the stranger.” All these things are true and are still a huge part of my identity, but I was only telling half the story.
Growing up struggling with (and enjoying discovering) the fact that I am queer had a profound effect on my worldview and informs much of how I approach combating ignorance, prejudice and attempts to reduce human experience and expression to simple and fixed ideas.
The week before last, for the first time in a Jewish institutional setting, I felt that I was delivering education around social action while being truly authentic about why it is important to me and how it can be inspiring for people of faith.
The week before last was a little historic. As a nation bid farewell to the lady not for turning, I’m hopeful that we are very much turning a corner. I’m optimistic that in the weeks, months and years to come, faith communities will get closer to burying homophobia for good.
Until this week, I was heartened by intelligent voices on homosexuality emerging from the Orthodox community. Rabbi Nati Helfgot initiated a Statement of Principles in 2010, grounded in Halacha, proclaiming “Demeaning someone with a homosexual orientation is a violation of Torah prohibitions that embody the deepest values of Judaism.” An Orthodox school in New York recently allowed a Gay-Straight alliance. At Limmud conference 2012, a British Orthodox Rabbi joined a panel discussing same-sex marriage, even suggesting Orthodox Judaism support civil same-sex partnerships.
Then reactionary views unfortunately still held within the Orthodox community reared their ugly head. Concern was expressed to Rabbi Schochet that Rabbi Lichenstein suggested it’s not Halacha animating people against homosexuality. Rabbi Lichenstein’s point was that if it was a halachic objection, people would be similarly outraged towards those eating shellfish or violating Shabbat. Expressing sympathy with the unease voiced at Rabbi Lichenstein’s possible tolerance, Rabbi Schochet’s shared his disdain “when “that community” starts shouting their agenda”. He argued that the traditional Jewish community giving legitimacy to LGBT people “is akin to having an organisation called the National British Gossipers Association formally recgonised”.
Pride not prejudice, faith not fear
Implicitly, Rabbi Schochet suggests that sexuality is no more worthy of protection or celebration (their agenda!) than behavioural choices like gossiping. Brian Gordon is more explicit: “I have nothing at all against people who define themselves as “gay”…their desire to adopt such a lifestyle…is entirely their affair”. Note the derisive parenthesis in how both refer to gay people.
Some Orthodox people think being gay is a choice and can’t get over it. Not all Orthodox leaders agree. Rabbi Rappaport recgonised in ‘Judaism and Homosexuality: an Authentic Orthodox view’ that homosexuality isn’t a choice. The Statement of Principles acknowledges that “this orientation cannot be changed”.
Brian Gordon maintains “it is vital the traditional and religiously prescribed concept of marriage be robustly protected”. Which concept of marriage is that? One where women are bought and sold as property? If Brian Gordon wants biblical standards applied to relationships, does he believe “…if a wife is physically harmed by someone, compensation is paid to her husband” and a “husband is not only the owner of his wife, he is also the owner of her pregnancy (Ex. 21:22)”? Should we side with Rabbis of the past that legislated “wife beating is occasionally sanctioned if it is for the purpose of chastisement or education” (Naomi Graetz, Domestic Violence in Jewish Law)?
I believe that Rabbi Lichenstein was criticizing the selective attitude of many Orthodox people towards biblical and rabbinic teachings on relationships and marriage. If biblical norms are upheld in regard to homosexuality, but ignored when it comes to other matters of family life, surely the only reasonable explanation is prejudice?
It is often at Limmud that I encounter more enlightened Orthodox views on sexuality. Yet even here there were rumblings that concern me. Hineini: Coming out in a Jewish High School was screened, showcasing one American schoolgirl’s efforts to start a Gay-Straight alliance to combat bullying. This sparked discussion about UK Jewish schools. Although parents and pupils from a range of schools were present, none expressed confidence that UK Jewish secondary schools would support a Gay-Straight alliance. Perhaps this is due to all except one being Orthodox.
This should worry those concerned with pupil welfare. Stonewall’s research shows faith schools have higher levels than the already alarming average of homophobic bullying; Three in five gay pupils who experience homophobic bullying say teachers who witness the bullying never intervene; and over 40% of LGBT pupils have attempted or thought about taking their own life. Despite this, no Jewish secondary school in the UK is proactively addressing homophobia or offering encounters with positive Jewish LGBT role models.
In my view, the biggest challenge to creating safe and supportive environments for all young people, and a more inclusive UK Jewish community, is a lack of courage and informed leadership in some Orthodox institutions, particularly secondary schools. Given the Jewish values expressed in Rabbi Helfgot’s work, I would hope to see Jewish schools leading the fight against homophobia rather than shying away from it, and Orthodox commentators struggling with the tensions of modernity instead of romanticising biblical morality.
The poet Hebrew Mamita, who recently performed at Limmud conference, offers a reminder of the rejection of bigotry, often emanating from Jewish experience of being the other, which Orthodoxy should aspire to: “If you must see me as that blood-sucking jew, see me as that pesky mosquito that bites and sucks the prejudice right out of you”.
This was written in my role as a volunteer with Keshet UK.
Keshet UK is the forum working to champion the inclusion of lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, intersex and questioning people in all areas of Jewish life in the United Kingdom. @keshetUK
The recent debate surrounding our community’s engagement with those who criticise Israel failed to address whether our community’s support of Israel must be the single issue that dictates our approach in other areas of Jewish life.
For the record, I’m a proud supporter of Israel. I spent my gap year volunteering there, led numerous youth and student trips and trained close to 500 Israel Tour leaders who’ve taken nearly 5,000 young people on Israel experiences, cementing their love for Israel.
Nevertheless, I find it odd that supporting Israel is our community’s dominant priority. Whatever the merits of the views expressed about GROW-Tatzmiach programme, the paradigm of the debate was whether or not it was in Israel’s interest.
Judaism articulates our obligation to pursue justice and act for a fairer and more sustainable world. Why should these values, and the work we need to do to act on them, be trumped by values expressing commitment to Israel?
In my exchanges with various parts of our community I am often struck by growing apathy, or worse antipathy, towards Israel from otherwise involved Jews. Continuing to make Israel the lens through which we view all our communal activity might alienate many more members of our community and fragment our efforts to create a vibrant, diverse and active UK Jewry.
Among those contributing to building this type of community is the Jewish Social Action Forum [JSAF]. Numbering over 20 organisations, including all four religious denominations, JSAF brings together those inspired by Judaism to act on local and global issues.
JSAF doesn’t see social action work being in opposition to Israel engagement. Indeed, JSAF is the European partner on Siach – a global Jewish social justice and environment network. Working with North American and Israeli counterparts, JSAF is at the heart of bridging sometimes divided groups– those committed to Israel and those passionate about social justice. Our most recent global conference in Israel also highlighted the many great ways Israelis contribute to repairing the world.
It’s pretty clear to me that supporting Israel shouldn’t interfere with other important work that is broadening and deepening Jewish engagement. Then how do we unify our community?
A start would be acknowledging the nuances in relating to Israel. The following example highlights how as individuals, let alone as communities, we don’t fit neatly into boxes when it comes to our stance on Israel. Daniel Birnbaum, SodaStream CEO, is a hugely successful Israeli entrepreneur, employs hundreds of Palestinians and maintains products from the West Bank are ‘Made in Israel’. Nevertheless, when accepting an award for his company from President Shimon Peres, he was outraged at the different treatment he and his Palestinian workers received at the ceremony and felt compelled to address it. Directly to the President of Israel, Daniel suggested that sometimes his country’s treatment of Palestinians causes him to question “…how we relate to each other as human beings”
Daniel Birnbaum doesn’t ally himself with groups who vocally call for a two-state solution. Those opposed to Israeli policy in the West Bank probably don’t see a kindred spirit in this businessman who has a large factory there. That’s the point. In order to be more united as a community, one change that is needed is greater appreciation that a relationship with Israel is complex.
Beyond this, our community needs to value equally its many great endeavours contributing to a vibrant British Jewry. We need to recognise that despite our different priorities, we share a deep commitment to our community and draw inspiration from our common heritage. We shouldn’t allow supporting Israel to be the sole issue that dominates community life. It certainly shouldn’t dictate how we work to realise the world envisaged by our prophets “…to loosen the chains of injustice…set the oppressed free…share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter [Isaiah, 58:6-7]”.
So it doesn’t have the same rhythm as Na Nach Nachman Meuman but perhaps these three Hebrew words also have something redemptive to inspire us with when it comes to who we say Yes to Entering our Gathering – communal, social and national…
Thanks to an ROI Micro Grant, after organising and then attending the second Siach global conference, I was able to extend my stay in Israel and attend the World Council of Jewish Communal Service’s 12th Quadrennial on Jewish Peoplehood: Energizing the Present, Envisioning the Future.
There were many interesting sessions, people and discussions throughout the three days, as well as a few laughs and tears – the laughs mainly when forcing myself to speak in an American accent for my English to be understood, the tears when sneaking off to see England lose on penalties…again!
I also got to catch up with some great ROI people, although 2011 Summit participant’s, and Benji Lovitt in particular, would have been disappointed that Justin’s facilitation of Open Space lacked any mention of ‘getting out of there if you’re not giving or receiving’ or other useful innuendo material.
So what did I learn?
One of the themes that was swirling around my head was that of who’s in and who’s out when it comes to our Jewish communities and this larger concept of Jewish Peoplehood that Siach and WCJCS were both grappling with.
To give you a sense of the space my head was in, just prior to arriving in Israel, news was breaking of the South Tel Aviv riots, and removal of protected status for around 700 South Sudanese residing in Israel. As Siach was starting I was contacted by the Chief Rabbi’s office in the UK as they reached out to the Jewish LGBT community to reassure them they wanted open and cordial dialogue despite submitting a negative response to the British Government consultation on same-sex civil marriage, despite the planned changes explicitly not allowing for same-sex religious marriages or religious content in same-sex civil marriages. On the second day of WCJCS I joined peers from JDC and around the world interested in work taking place at the Knesset to remove barriers to employment for people with disabilities.
Let’s start with the inspiring and positive efforts to ensure those we make an effort to include reaches far and wide.
One of the highlights of this visit was meeting Nadav, a young man with disabilities, who is an usher at the Knesset. Nadav describes the people he works with as like Achim (brothers) and performs a vital role ensuring the smooth running of proceedings in the plenum and assisting MKs, their visitors, other officials and guests around the Knesset. Others commented they find the Knesset site quite bamboozling despite being there regularly, so this was no simple responsibility. We also met MK Ilan Gil’on, himself a person with a disability, who heads the Subcommittee on Equal Rights for Persons with Disabilities. Citing the Talmudic prohibition on placing a stone before a blind man, this Meretz MK highlighted one of the ways Jewish values can define the Jewish character of the state that so many others think can only be characterised by demographics.
As well as the focus on employment for people with disabilities, we had a generic tour of the Knesset. I felt very conflicted as we were shown the many Jewish symbols celebrating the return of Jewish sovereignty and self-governance including a Menorah turning into the 7 species, a silk and gold tapestry depicting the 12 tribes of Israel, Chagall’s artwork illustrating the gathering of the exiles and Moses and David leading the Jews at different times of Jewish unity and power.
I am a proud Zionist; I spent my gap year in Israel which was hugely transformational, and have spent voluntary and professional time engaging people in the Diaspora with Israel and Israelis. Nevertheless, it was becoming clear to me that these symbols and messages may be quite difficult to be met with if you are not a Jewish citizen of the State of Israel. I want to believe that we can find a way to support and celebrate a Jewish and democratic state, but with current developments in Israel, I am uneasy with the exclusively Jewish branding for Israel’s seat of democracy.
Recent developments raise questions about who’s in and who’s out when it comes to our Jewish state and what we want to define the Jewish character of that state – is it demographics alone or are Jewish values also brought to bear on the shaping of Israel’s society? This tension is acutely highlighted with the focus on Jewish demography affecting the debate on Refugees and Asylum seekers and some of the inflammatory language Israeli leaders are using – “infiltrators” “cancer” “The arrival of thousands of Muslim infiltrators to Israeli territory is a clear threat to the state’s Jewish identity”(Danny Danon, Jerusalem Post ). Thankfully there are also voices on the right objecting to this sensationalist and insensitive framing of the debate. Other examples include the aborted efforts to remove Arabic as a national language and on-going challenges and disputes with the Bedouin population including confiscation of Bedouin lands.
This can get a bit depressing, so let’s return to the uplifting story of progress for people with disabilities at the Knesset and throughout Israeli society. Dr. Shirley Avrami was sharing some findings of the impact of including people with disabilities within the Knesset staff team. One member of the staff team who did not have disabilities described how this scheme had changed their attitudes inside and outside of work. “This was the first time I really encountered people with disabilities and now I understand disability completely differently. We have some members at my shul with Down’s syndrome and now I see them completely differently, more as a part of my community I can connect with and less as the ‘other’.
As I was listening to this it occurred to me that whilst campaigns for equality sometimes have to utilise lobbying and challenging the establishment, it is only by bringing people into contact with perceived ‘others’ that real attitudinal change can take place. This seems obvious, but it was not until seeking advice from Steve Greenberg at Siach, and then sitting hearing about the progress on changing attitudes to people with disabilities, that I really comprehended how far we have to go with fostering inclusion of LGBT Jews in the mainstream UK Jewish community. In the states personal stories and encounters with orthodox people struggling with the sexuality has led to some progress illustrated by the Statement of Principles. I just hope that despite recent setbacks, some parts of the orthodox leadership and establishment will be open to exploring the personal and human side to this issue further. I want to believe that our tradition can encourage more inclusive Jewish spaces rather than placing metaphorical stones in front of marginalized groups.
Another highlight of WCJCS was hearing Jay Michaelson discuss iSpirituality and Anat Hoffman on fighting for religious pluralism and compromise over women’s religious rights at the Kotel. Despite some heckling from the crowd, it is hard to argue with the Women of the Wall’s request for one hour a month when women are allowed to pray at the Kotel in a Tallit.
Probably the part of the WCJCS conference that would resonate most with ROIers was Jay Michaelson’s talk on special Pinterest Judaism, highlighting the decentralised, innovative and open source ways individual Jews and grassroots community are shaping and defining Judaism and Jewish peoplehood for themselves. I used to be uncomfortable with this, not because I don’t find it exciting and valuable that people are taking a DIY approach to Jewish identity, but to use Jay’s analogy of how we’ve moved from buying large plastic discs that someone else has loaded songs onto in a set order to organising our own playlist on iTunes – what if none of us share the same songs? What connects us then?
Given my feelings about how some parts of our people exclude me for being Queer, or some sections of Israeli society wish to exclude non-Jews and women from public life and public space, maybe it’s not terrible if we’re not striving to house us all in one big tent. So what for Jewish peoplehood then?
It seems I’ve caught the ROI bug or watched Seth Cohen’s JDOV talk too many times, but I’m really starting to love the idea of a networks approach to Jewish peoplehood.
My encounter with one of the Siach participants illustrates a dual powerful dynamic of networks and how they can support Jewish Peoplehood. Aharon Ariel Lavi is a member of the National Council of Intentional Communities steering committee. He also founded and serves as the director of Nettiot Intentional Communities network, a collection of some 130 communities of Ba’alei Teshuva activists who are living across Israel seeking to support and develop the local communities in which they live whilst building orthodox communities for themselves after feeling somewhat rejected from the Haredi communities they sought to join after becoming returnees to Torah. Aharon arranged for us to meet the Gan Torani in the Hadar neighbourhood of Haifa, one of the groups that belong to the Nettiot network. This group of orthodox men confounded many of my assumptions, and I suspect many of the assumptions of others in the group.
Aharon, Nettiot and Gan Torani demonstrate the power of networks in supporting grassroots Jews to build community and mobilise social change. This network also playing a role within the broader Siach network proves how Jewish peoplehood can really work – real connections between passionate people that may vehemently disagree on some issues, but can stand on some common ground for certain periods of time. By connecting these people and networks to one another, and fostering a spirit of machlochet l’shem shel mayim, perhaps we may also find ways to build a camp of many tents where all can find their place.
As MK Ilan Gil’on said in reference to changing how we think about inclusion, access and equality of opportunity – “Imagine if everyone was to look at how we can make everything more comfortable for everyone else”
This week I attended two events that were each celebrating the achievements of others in memory of someone tragically killed too early in life. Both Yoni Jesner and Adam Science accomplished more in their shortened lives than most do in a lifetime of many years. The legacy of the Yoni Jesner Award Scheme and Adam Science Foundation Leadership Programme is that hundreds more people are giving of themselves and making a lasting difference.
The Yoni Jesner Award Scheme recognises the efforts of pupils at Jewish schools who complete 20 hours (and often a lot more) of volunteering for causes and charities within and beyond the community. Yoni volunteered for many projects in his hometown of Glasgow including being the youngest ever member of the burial society, nationally with Bnei Akiva and what is now UJIA JAMS, and internationally with Magen David Adom. Yoni had hoped to be a doctor and in a touching testament to his desire to save lives, and powerful given the tragic nature of his death at the hands of a suicide bomber, Yoni’s organs helped save many lives, including that of a little Palestinian girl.
The Adam Science Foundation Leadership Programme finds leaders in their 20s & 30s and helps make them great – providing access to training, mentors, a cross-communal and strategic approach and a matchmaking service placing them in positions of responsibility across over 100 charities. This “shidduching” of leader and opportunity is very much in the style of the young man who according to those who so movingly shared their memories of him, would schmooze his friends, get them having fun whilst doing good and then push them to step up and lead.
I did not know Yoni or Adam personally, though both have touched my life and impacted my leadership journey. I was just starting my Gap Year in Israel when on Erev Sukkot in 2002 Yoni was murdered. At the time I was arguing with one of the programme staff about over cautious security restrictions, and displaying an arrogant sense of entitlement because I was a volunteer and a leader – a trait I have thankfully overcome though am grateful for the regular reminders to keep it at bay. Many years later I would spend a couple of years managing the Yoni Jesner Award Scheme and I was inspired by his family, in particular his mother Marsha Gladstone. The hundreds of young people completing the award also provided one of those reminders about my poor understanding of leadership by demonstrating a far more humble approach to volunteering and leadership than I had. These shared associations with Yoni’s memory remind me of the quote we cited in presenting the scheme to pupils: “What does your God require of you but to act justly, love kindness and walk humbly with your Lord”
In a previous communal role I was fortunate to work with and learn from Nicky Goldman, currently directing LEAD who facilitate the Adam Science Foundation Leadership Programme. Together, Nicky and I conceived and initiated LEAD NOW. I feel we both brought a sense of how this scheme could raise the profile and status of sabbatical leadership roles, whilst at the same time contextualise the experience of running Youth Movements and UJS within broader communal leadership. Nevertheless, it was Nicky’s experience running the Adam Science Foundation Leadership Programme, and Adam’s spirit expressed through that programme, that infused LEAD NOW with the ethos that brought Lay Leaders into contact with young community professionals in order to highlight that whether you work in the private, public or third sector, you Lead in the community now and have to stay committed to leading in the future.
I’ve hinted that I may have been foolish in some of my understandings of leadership in the past, and I am grateful I’ve been encouraged to keep challenging myself as a leader, and learn from others around me. At the Adam Science Foundation Leadership Programme 20th anniversary, we were fortunate to hear from Ron Heifetz, Chief Rabbi Lord Sacks and be given a collection of reflections on leadership from alumni & current participants.
I heard many insightful and interesting comments about leadership, but two stuck out and also provoked some possibly uncomfortable observations.
Ron Heifetz discussed his personal leadership journey, how he trained ad a physician and after working with prison inmates he decided he wanted explore how he could be a “Doctor on the systemic level”.
Talent without training is wasted, training without talent in uninspiring, but talented leaders who train hard can propel their passion to affect purposeful and impactful social change.
One of the driving motivations of Adam Science Foundation Leadership Programme was that cost should not be a barrier to accessing leadership opportunities. A key aim of the Yoni Jesner Award Scheme is to inspire people to give of themselves and their time, not their money. Yet despite this so many of the people who have graduated the Adam Science Foundation Leadership Programme and gone on to the most senior communal roles, whilst no doubt hardworking and utilising their experience of the Adam Science Foundation Leadership Programme, also have the capacity to be significant donors. Moreover the most common type of the volunteering pupils participating in the Yoni Jesner Award Scheme did, and graduates of Adam Science Foundation Leadership Programme go on to do, is fundraising. So I wonder to what extent our leadership development of the next generation isn’t just cultivating fresh enthusiasm within the next cohort of big givers, but also challenging the structures of our community and the pervading prominence of leadership by donation.
The place of money in our communal leadership still posses obstacles. In wider society, the systemic inequalities very much linked to poverty are desperately in need of ‘doctors on the systemic level’ yet the two most mentioned charities at the event were World Jewish RELIEF & Jewish CARE. These and many other welfare organisations that are attracting passionate and talented leaders & volunteers do fantastic work. Yet I can’t help but sense that these organisations treat the symptoms of social inequality and breakdown rather than seek to find and administer systemic cures. Perhaps we need to increase the focus on diagnosing and prioritising what it is within society that needs changing and reconsider what it is we are training and inspiring leaders to do?
I think the times call for us to reevaluate our community’s and wider society’s relationship with money in general and extreme wealth and growing gaps between rich and poor in particular. I believe my generation of Jewish leaders want to see a rebalancing whereby we spend as much time and resource working alongside others of different backgrounds in pursuit of a fairer and more sustainable world as we do sticking together supporting our own needy and assisting Israel.
Thankfully even those you may expect to be against this change are embracing it and sometimes leading it.
World Jewish Relief are a good example, increasingly focusing on development in the global south alongside their aid to poorer Jewish communities around the world. Just this week World Jewish Relief have employed their first campaign manager looking at how they can mobilise their supporters on policy and activism in conjunction with their financial assistance.
Stephen Lewis, as Chairman of Jewish Care needs the community’s efforts to raise tens of millions of pounds to deliver the fantastic services Jewish Care offers to senior citizens, Holocaust survivors, those with mental health needs, those with dementia as well as those who care for a loved one. Despite this, Stephen was clear in his essay that whilst there is a lot of competition for our support, we must support causes and charities in the wider society.
In his reflections on leadership, Chief Rabbi Lord Sacks makes it clear that Jewish leadership is about leading in a Jewish way, not simply being Jewish and a leader. Lord Sacks closes by stressing “The wrong way is to emphasise anti-Semitism and the assaults on Israel, to exaggerate the tensions between the different streams in Jewish life, and to bemoan the lack of Jewish leadership. The right way is to make friends within and beyond the Jewish community, to emphasise the ethical and spiritual dimensions of Judaism, to find social action projects we can work in across other divides, and to find ways of making Jews feel proud to be Jews”
What makes me proud is that Jewish ethical values as I understand them place limits on ownership, articulate true wealth as happiness and offer an alternative to being either a conscientious universal citizen or a greedy global consumer by insisting on our cultural difference whilst cultivating us to connect with and act for all. What sometimes unsettles me is despite this and the many good intentions of a number of leaders, we are still a community where senior leadership requires significant wealth, where material affluence is prioritised over happiness for ourselves and fairness in society at large and energy is expended on remedying the effects of society’s failures rather than mending the system, or dare I say it – repairing the world.
The lives and legacies of Yoni and Adam illustrate the spiritual rewards of leading and seeking to improve the lives of others. I hope my efforts and the efforts of those developing leaders in their name can take this to the next level by leading change on the systemic level, but as Yoni teaches us, it can still start with simple and small acts and changes in attitude.
“When you find it hard to motivate yourself, do something useful and then ask yourself, at the end of this week will I have watched TV or watched my actions? Will I have changed my hairstyle or changed someone’s life? Will I have spread gossip or will I have shared knowledge? Will I have spent money on young people or spent time with them?”
jewishgeekandproud 