“I’d prefer that you talk about me”

Anti-Zionism in the literary world and the narcissism of the creative class

Why are so many writers, editors, and publishers — people who are nominally committed to free expression and the open exchange of ideas — jumping on the bandwagon to boycott and blacklist Jews?

I have a theory, and it has nothing to do with the bloodshed in Gaza.

To explain, I need to tell you a story…

“These people are absolute lunatics.”

The play premiered in London and came to NYC’s Booth Theatre in 1999.

In 1998, English playwright Sir David Hare took the stage at London’s Royal Court Theatre to debut his one-man show, Via Dolorosa.

During his 80-minute monologue, Hare recounts his travels across Israel and the occupied territories, and shares some of his conversations with the people he meets along the way. Secular Jews, militant Zionists, liberal peaceniks, religious settlers, Palestinian politicians and activists, Muslims and Christians, and many more.

Hare’s entire performance is worth a listen, but one section deserves special attention. In the audio clip below, Hare describes his visit to Sheri Tikva, a settlement in the West Bank, where he observes the Sabbath with “Sarah and Danny Weiss.” (Hare changes their names because… well, you’ll see.)

Listen carefully eight seconds in when Hare says “… something about a patriarch going somewhere to get a wife….”

To my ears, Hare can barely conceal his contempt for what observant Jews do: read Scripture and then argue about the meaning of the text. His disgust is palpable, which should come as no surprise. Hare had been encouraged to demean and belittle the settlers.

“These people are absolute lunatics,” novelist and literary lion Philip Roth had told Hare. “They’re the maddest people I’ve ever met in my life. For any writer of fiction, they’re the most wonderful material.” Which is exactly how Hare treats Sarah and Danny Weiss — not as people, but as material.

But I digress. My point is to spotlight Hare’s snotty and sneering tone. Hare is like a guy who shows up for the first time to a book group that’s been meeting once a week for thousands of years. But Hare didn’t bother to do the reading in advance, so he can’t follow the conversation. Annoyed and frustrated, he vents his anger not at himself for his lack of planning or curiosity, but at the book club’s members: Look at these clowns — arguing about the meaning of a minor character in a made-up story. It’s absurd.

The Narcissist knows best

Now listen to David Hare describe the best part of being a playwright:

What does David Hare love? People who come to his plays and argue about David Hare’s ideas and worldview.

What fills David Hare with contempt? People who argue about a story that David Hare didn’t write… a story that David Hare has no apparent interest in understanding… and, perhaps most importantly, a story that, if true, would turn David Hare’s world upside down.

Via Dolorosa is not a documentary or a journey of discovery. It’s David Hare’s diatribe against a Book and a worldview about which he was and remains profoundly ignorant.

“Listen to me… please.”

All writers have egos. We all want people to read our words, to take our ideas and perspectives seriously, and then, if all goes well, to respond, question, engage, and debate. Please be sure to comment below! But the act of writing is far from benign:

David Hare is no different. He wants his stories, his characters, and his imagination to frame our conversations. He wants to be the spark that starts the fire. He wants to be the First Cause.

But Jews who take the Bible seriously believe something very different. They believe that the narrative that animates their lives did not begin with them, nor will it end with them. They know for certain that they are not the First Cause. They are not G*d. They know this because the Story tells them so, over and over again.

The Bible is also a narrative unlike any other:

Not too shabby a story.

But wait… it gets better:

From “The Focus on Israel,” by Thomas Friedman, The New York Times Magazine, February 1, 1987.

In other words: Zionism can be seen as proof that a very old Story — a narrative that blurs the lines between myth, fable, philosophy, and actual, documented history — might, in some weird, mysterious, and inexplicable way, seem to be coming true.

“Maybe God is not as dead as we thought.”

Writers, editors, and publishers have enormous cultural power today. They tell the stories that help us create meaning and find purpose in a chaotic and increasingly secular world.

Zionism and the Biblical narrative from which the Jewish state emerges threaten to undermine the cultural power of the literary elites. For if the Bible is once again embraced as a source of wisdom and truth — and if the modern nation-state of Israel is seen as proof that the Story is or might be coming true (see: Heschel’s Israel: An Echo of Eternity) —then storytellers like David Hare and his friends in the literary world are in trouble. Their mighty kingdom would drastically shrink to become one of a thousand minor cultural principalities without much status or power.

This, I think, is one reason why Zionism drives the literary world so crazy, and why Jews are (once again) getting shoved to the sidelines.

But again, it’s just a theory.

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Postscript

One night the Jewish settlers portrayed in the monologue came to see the performance. Danny and Sarah Weiss (not their real names) were very angry about how the playwright depicted them. “You missed the point,” they told him.

But their reaction was not a surprise to Hare. Indeed, it was as he expected from people who, he said, lived in a bubble.

David Hare described the episode in his diary:

“… After I had changed, I met them in the small waiting room. I could tell at once they were not happy. The Danny-character said to me: ‘You do the show brilliantly. You’re brilliant. Like a demagogue. And how many people see it? I am told 600 a night. It hurts me to think that every night you are telling people about Israel, and that they are hearing about it from a man who has entirely missed the point of it. It’s such an opportunity. And you get it so wrong.’

“Sarah said ‘You come into our house and then you portray us like this. You misrepresent and distort things we said. It’s an abuse of hospitality.’ I pointed out that I had changed their names. They could hardly challenge the truth of my report, even if they disliked the interpretation… ‘Bad man’ were the last words I heard as they disappeared down the stairs.”

I can only laugh (or cry) at Hare’s defense: “I had changed their names.” But Danny and Sarah were not concerned about their personal reputations. “You are telling people about Israel,” said Danny. “And you get it so wrong.”