What is Post Zionism?

Before we define post-Zionism, let's talk a little bit about Zionism. Zionism is Israel’s national ideology. Zionists believe that Jews have a special relationship with Zion, a synonym of Jerusalem in the Bible. Zionists define Zion broadly as the area of the (Mandate) Palestine. They claim that Judaism is not only a religion but also a nationality, so Jews deserve their own state and because of their special two millennia-old connection, Zion should be that state. Zionists discount and disregard the presence and majority of Palestinians in erstwhile Palestine before the creation of Israel. The slogan, "A land without a people for a people without a land" explains the Zionist idea.

If Zionism is about particular -- a particular land for a particular people at a particular time -- post- Zionism concerns universal -- humans coming together after acknowledging their differences and idiosyncrasies. If Zionism is based on denying Palestinians existence, suffering, and exclusion, post- Zionism is known for acknowledging Palestinians' trauma and called for their inclusion. If Zionism is about hegemony, post-Zionism cherishes harmony. If Zionism gave birth to Israel, post-Zionism was, many intellectuals thought, to give it maturity. If Zionism prefers the tribe, post-Zionism promotes trade-offs. If Zionism is about Jews who can fight for their own rights, post-Zionism prioritizes Jews that can fight not only for themselves but also for others. 

Zionism rose to prominence is the 1890s; post-Zionism became a thing, hundred years later, in the 1990s. There is no agreed definition of post-Zionism. Most of its detractors and some of its proponents claim that it is not much different from more than a century old anti-Zionism. However, while anti-Zionists are by-definition against Zionism, many of the post-Zionists are not. A large number of post-Zionists appreciate the necessity of Zionism for bringing Jews together and for creating the state of Israel. What unites most post-Zionists is the belief that Zionism has well past its expiry date. 

While the heydays of the post-Zionist movement were the 1990s and 2000s, its origin can be traced to the late 1960s. For instance, publicist Uri Avnery published a book in 1968 titled Israel without Zionists. Others have associated post-Zionism with the 1940s and 1950s cultural movement of the Mandate Palestine Jews who dreamed of a "Hebrew" nation, a nation that would be composed of Middle Eastern people (both Arabs and Jews), who have rejected their religious (Islamic and Judaic) pasts. Post-Zionism started as an academic movement. Its first proponents were Israeli academics who are usually referred to as “New Historians.” These historians, in the 1980s, used Israeli government declassified documents, interviews, and objective rigorous research to unpack and highlight the massacre and dislocation of the Palestinians before but primarily after the 1948 War. Tom Segev, Ilan Pappé, Benny Morris, and Avi Shlaim were prominent New Historians. Gradually, in the 1990s, these revisionist historians became the pioneers of a much larger movement. However, this movement never became popular. Ordinary Israelis continued to believe in the official nationalist ideology of Zionism.

Source: Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine (2006)

Journalist Neri Livneh, who was part of the movement, defined post-Zionism in her Haaretz's article Post-Zionism Only Rings Once (September 20, 2001):

In the wider sense, if the term post-Zionism is meant to describe every attempt to examine the injustices perpetrated by Zionism and to reassess Israel's history from a standpoint that is different from the standard version, all those who are identified in this article as "post-Zionists" will undoubtedly agree to be included in the list. 

But in the narrower, and more precise, sense, post-Zionism is a political attitude that recognizes the legitimacy of Zionism as a national movement of Jews, but specifies a certain date, a kind of watershed, from which point on Zionism concluded its historical role or lost its legitimacy because of injustices it did to others (not only to Arabs but also, for example to Holocaust survivors from Europe, Yiddish speakers, Jews from Arab and Islamic countries, ultra-Orthodox Jews and women). 

This viewpoint also gives rise to a political conclusion, according to which Israel must disengage itself from its Zionist elements, which are the foundation of its Jewish character, because they are preventing it from being a democratic state. In the eyes of its opponents, this conclusion by the post-Zionists places them in a saliently anti-Zionist camp.

Livneh explicates that many scholars, who are identified as post-Zionists rubbish the label. Professors Raz-Karkutzkin and Shenhav do not want to be called post-Zionists, although they were called post-Zionists. Poet, novelist, and essayist Yitzhak Laor self-identified as an anti-Zionist also did not like the term:

"Post-Zionism," says Dr. Amnon Raz-Karkutzkin, from Ben-Gurion University of the Negev in Be'er Sheva, "is actually a kind of general term that was invented in order to stuff into one basket and denounce everyone who does not identify completely with the establishment, or who has anything critical to say about the way history is taught in Israel, or who see the huge damage that Zionism has done to the Palestinians or the Mizrahim" - referring to Jews whose origins lie in Middle Eastern countries. 

"Post-Zionism is an empty label," asserts Prof. Yehouda Shenhav from Tel Aviv University. "I think we have to stop using the category of `post-Zionism,' because people invoke it confusingly. Not everyone who calls for an end to the occupation is necessarily a post-Zionist. People who want to return to the 1967 lines can be Zionists through and through, because they are convinced that nationhood cannot exist without borders. On the other hand, you could say that the settlers are post-Zionists, because their very existence is harmful to nationhood within clear boundaries." 

"Post-Zionism is a term I abhor," Raz-Karkutzkin states. "I am absolutely not a post-Zionist..." 

"Post-Zionism is a kind of convenient bag into which all kinds of people can be stuffed," he[Laor] says. "On the one hand, it allows anti-Zionists to come out of the closet without calling themselves anti-Zionists, and on the other hand, it allows all the ideological establishment Zionists to throw them all into that bag so they can kick it around."

Professor Uri Ram, in his book Israeli Nationalism: Social conflicts and the politics of knowledge (2011, 118), contends that post-Zionism has a great impact on Israeli academia, art, and culture:

In fact, the post-Zionist critique on what may be called “nationalist epistemology” (or nationalist point of view) is felt today in all disciplines of knowledge and creative arts in Israel (even if not always explicitly under the post-Zionist heading). This is the situation in the field of history, where the “new historians” or “revisionist historians” had a lasting impact on history writing and on historical memory...The presence of post-Zionism in Israeli culture in general and of post-Zionist studies of Israeli society in particular is pervasive and unequivocal.

Ram also identifies many branches of post-Zionism. Feminist post-Zionists, for instance, argue that post-Zionism is about rejecting the nationalistic, militaristic, and masculine traits of Zionism which reinforce each other. Diasporic post-Zionism is more concerned about the effects Zionism on non-Israeli Jews and aims to "de-Israelize" the Jewish diaspora.

For Zionists, there is not much difference between anti-Zionists and post-Zionists. Scholars, such as Shlomo Avineri and Meyrav Wurmser, who ascribe to the official Zionist paradigm, unpack the negative and disastrous agenda of the post-Zionists in the following section:

Avineri notes that post-Zionists contend that Zionism is a colonial phenomenon rather than a national movement in conflict with another national movement over their claim to the same territory. “At the same time,” he says, “those who are careful not to accept the Zionist narrative sometimes accept the Palestinian narrative without question. To them it is clear that there is a Palestinian people, that what happened in 1948 is exactly what the Arabs say happened, and that in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict there is, on the one hand, a Zionist ‘narrative,’ and on the other, ‘facts’ that are precisely identical to the Palestinian narrative.” Avineri calls this “absolute folly...” 

[Wurmser argues] At its essence, post-Zionism holds that the State of Israel is an immoral phenomenon because it was established on the basis of the destruction of another people—the Palestinians. It presents the problem as transcending the Israeli occupation of the West Bank and Gaza in 1967; hence, its solution does not lie in a simple Israeli withdrawal from those territories. To the contrary, post-Zionists now tend to disparage left-wing Zionist groups for what they refer to as the “Peace Now Syndrome,” a cherishing of the period before 1967 as flawless while attributing all of Israel's wrongdoing to the 1967 occupation. Post-Zionists are much more radical: from their perspective, the problem has to do with the very existence of Israel. They deem Zionism a colonialist, racist, and evil phenomenon that stole another people’s land by force and continues to oppress them... 

Avineri says that “post-Zionists are simply anti-Zionists” who believe “that there is no Jewish people, that Zionism is an ally of imperialism and that the Palestinian Arabs are victims of Zionist aggression….They do not see Zionism and the State of Israel as a reality that has come to pass, but rather as something that is not legitimate from the outset and that must be eliminated down to its very foundations.” 

Wurmser observes that the intention of post-Zionists “is wholly negative; not to improve Zionism but to destroy it. Post-Zionist writers openly aspire not to create a new Israeli historiography free of all ideological biases, but rather seek to inject an anti-Israel bias into them.” (Zionism: “New Historians” and Post-Zionists)

These views are, of course, rejected by the post-Zionists. They claim to love their country and assert that they are trying to save their country from an impending disaster.  

Emperor and Saint Constantine: From Paganism to Christianity

A few days back, we discussed how Christianity, in one century, traveled the distance and became a state religion from a persecuted cult (Christianity: From a Persecuted Cult to the State Religion). Now, we discuss the central figure of this story: Constantine the Great.

Emperor Constantine is a very interesting figure, He is called Constantine, the great, for his unifying of the Roman Empire, for being the first Roman Emperor to convert to Christianity and giving Christianity the role of state religion, and for his many other administrative and military reforms. He was also the first ruler to commission churches in the Holy Land and founded the great city of Constantinople (currently Istanbul). He convened and presided over the first ecumenical council in Nicaea (currently İznik, Turkey), although he was not yet baptized. The council of bishops was convened in 325 AD. The council agreed on the Nicene Creed (a summary of the proper Christian faith) that declared the divinity of Christ and that God the Father and God the Son are one being, thereby rejecting the idea that there was once a time when God the Father existed but God the Son did not. The Nicene Creed is one of the most important creeds in Christianity. For all his achievements in Christianity, he is considered a saint by Orthodox and Roman Catholic Christians. In fact, the Eastern Orthodox Church considers him isapóstolos (equal to the Apostles), a rank bestowed only on a few saints, and called the "thirteenth apostle."

Father Bill Olnhausen is the Pastor Emeritus of Saint Nicholas Antiochian Orthodox Church in Cedarburg, Wisconsin. Following are some excerpts from his blog post, from September 2019, about Emperor Constantine (the whole blog post The Story of Saint Constantine the Great can be accessed):

Was Constantine an ascetic? No. Was he a brilliant theologian? No. Was his moral life exemplary? Not always, by any means. Was he a miracle worker? No. Was he even a Christian? Not formally, until he was finally baptized almost on his deathbed. So why does the Church call him a saint? Read on... 

Constantine was ambitious. His goal was to reunite the Roman empire under himself. Maxentius was then emperor in Italy. Constantine and his army marched south [from Gaul (France)], prepared to meet his far superior forces. While crossing the Alps Constantine had a strange and transformative experience. This was the story he told ever after: In the morning sky he saw (some accounts say others saw it with him) a shining cross with the words “In this sign conquer”. Some say it was in Greek “En touto nika”, others that it was Latin “In hoc signum vincit”...  

At the time Constantine was still a pagan who seems to have worshipped the sun as the high god. But he must also have had Christian sympathies, perhaps because of his mother, for he had Christian priests accompanying his army, and they explained the vision to him. So he had the Chi-Rho painted on his army’s banners. One of the banners was kept in Constantinople for many centuries. (Probably it was destroyed by the Crusaders, along with many other things including the future of the Byzantine Empire.) The armies met at the Milvian Bridge on the River Tiber outside Rome, and Maxentius was defeated. It was October in the year 312. 

Constantine's vision of a shinning cross (by Italian renaissance artist Raphael)

 Source: The Story of Saint Constantine the Great 

Constantine was now Augustus, sole emperor of the west, but he was not like other emperors. When he marched into Rome, he did not make the customary reprisals against the vanquished. More significantly, he boldly refused to make the customary sacrifices to the Roman gods. This was dangerously “politically incorrect”, for the Roman elite were chiefly pagan. Even though Christians were highly suspect, one of his first acts was to forbid the persecution of Christians. His famous Edict of Milan, made in the year 313 jointly with Licinius, the new emperor of the east, declared tolerance for all religions. And from the beginning Constantine gave special privileges to the Church. He ruled that the Church could again own property and directed the return of seized property. He ordered the return of Christian exiles. He decreed that the Christian Lord’s Day (“Kyriake” in Greek), the day of Christ’s resurrection, be the imperial weekly holiday. (“Sunday” is a pagan name for the first day of the week.)... 

Constantine soon decided to reunite the empire under himself and under the Christian God. He and his army moved east. In May 324 the combined armies numbering over 300,000 men met outside the Greek city of Adrianopolis. (In those days wars were usually fought outside cities and did not normally involve civilians. May we please go back to the old days?) Licinius was defeated and fled and finally surrendered that September. Constantine was now sole emperor, east and west. 

Now the empire was united under the Christian God. However, to Constantine’s great frustration, Christians were not united. Far from it, there was bitter division between the Orthodox and the Arians, who denied the divinity of Christ – or it may be they just misunderstood the meaning of divinity. So one of Constantine’s first acts, the next spring, was to call a Council of Christian bishops in Nicaea, a city on the west coast of Asia Minor, to try to unite the Church. It is said 318 bishops attended. This became known as the First Ecumenical Council. Constantine himself presided and gave great honor to those who had been injured during the persecutions. It is not clear whether Constantine understood the theological issue. Above all he wanted unity. Among the bishops at the Council, at least, he got it. After some early contention, the final vote was 316 (probably) to 2 against Arius and for the Orthodox.  

All this time Constantine had never been baptized. Historians wonder why. Some people at the time (mistakenly) delayed Baptism till late in life, lest they fall into major sin after the Washing. Even the great Saint Basil, raised in a profoundly Christian family, was not baptized till he was an adult. Or maybe Constantine delayed for political reasons, not wanting to entirely abandon the pagans, so he could be emperor “to all the people”. He never explained. But early in the year 337 he fell ill and quickly was baptized. It is said he abandoned his imperial garments and wore only his white baptismal robe for the rest of his life, which was not long. He died on Pentecost, May 21, 337, and ever since on this day the Church has honored him and his mother.

Emperor Constantine thus became Saint Constantine. Was he a true believer? Maybe. He certainly made Christianity the preferred religion of his Empire, baptized, and united Christians. And Rome and Christianity were never separated after him.

Christianity: From a Persecuted Cult to the State Religion

Michael Kulikowski has written a brief article for aeon.com on how Christianity transformed from a cult to a state religion in one century. At the start of the 4th century, Christians were hiding in dark corners to save themselves from the Roman officials but, at the end of it, they were advising the King and planning to use the state's power against the non-believers. The Third Century Crisis heralded the advent of a great age.

Michael Kulikowski is a professor of history and classics at Pennsylvania State University and the author of Late Roman Spain and Its Cities (2004) and Rome’s Gothic Wars from the Third Century to Alaric (2007). His most recent book is The Triumph of Empire: The Roman World From Hadrian to Constantine (2016) a small part of which is summarized in the aeon.com article, "Christians were strangers: How an obscure oriental cult in a corner of Roman Palestine grew to become the dominant religion of the Western world."

Some excerpts from the article are reproduced below:

The Roman empire became Christian during the fourth century CE. At the century’s start, Christians were – at most – a substantial minority of the population. By its end, Christians (or nominal Christians) indisputably constituted a majority in the empire. Tellingly, at the beginning of the century, the imperial government launched the only sustained and concerted effort to suppress Christianity in ancient history – and yet by the century’s end, the emperors themselves were Christians, Christianity enjoyed exclusive support from the state and was, in principle, the only religion the state permitted... 

That a world religion should have emerged from an oriental cult in a tiny and peculiar corner of Roman Palestine is nothing short of extraordinary. Jesus of Nazareth was a Jew, though an eccentric one, and here the concern is not what the historical Jesus did or did not believe. We know that he was executed for disturbing the Roman peace during the reign of the emperor Tiberius, and that some of his followers then decided that Jesus was not merely another regular prophet, common in the region. Rather, he was the son of the one true god, and he had died to bring salvation to those who would follow him. 

Paul was a Christian, perhaps indeed the first Christian, but he was also a Roman. That was new. Even if the occasional Jew gained Roman citizenship, Jews weren’t Romans. As a religion, Judaism was ethnic, which gave Jews some privileged exemptions unavailable to any other Roman subjects, but it also meant they were perpetually aliens. In contrast, Christianity was not ethnic. Although Christian leaders were intent on separating themselves physically and ideologically from the Jewish communities out of which they’d grown, they also accepted newcomers to their congregations without regard for ethnic origin or social class. In the socially stratified world of antiquity, the egalitarianism of Christianity was unusual and, to many, appealing... 

By the third century, Christian communities had grown. One would have been hard-pressed to find even a modest town without a Christian household or three. From a fringe movement, Christianity had become a central fact of urban life. Yet the religion’s normalisation made it suddenly vulnerable in the middle of the third century, when – thanks to dynastic instability, epidemic disease and military incompetence ­– imperial government went into a potentially terminal decline. 

The years between 260 and 300 offered little reprieve to those who wanted to become emperor and govern, but they did amount to the first golden age for Roman Christians. Although it is likely that we’ll never have sufficient evidence to tell just how many Christians there were at any one time, or just how fast the religion spread, we can say for certain that Christian numbers grew dramatically. By the 290s, there were Christians in the senate, at court, and even in the families of emperors. 

Towards the end of the third century, an emperor named Diocletian (r. 284-305) had finally proved able to stabilise imperial government after 50 years of regime change and violence. In 293, he established a college of four emperors, all senior generals unrelated to one another except by marriage. The idea was to ensure that one emperor would always be on hand to deal with any outbreak of violence and to prevent rebellion or civil war. Diocletian intended for himself and his senior colleague to retire, after which their junior partners would bring two new emperors into the imperial college to replace them. The goal was to ensure a handover of power at a convenient and peaceful moment so that the framework of government would remain undisturbed. But Diocletian’s intentions were thwarted by rivalries, in which Christianity played an important role. 

That is where things foundered: only two of Diocletian’s emperors had adult sons, and everyone expected them to join the college of four emperors when the two senior emperors retired. But the childless emperor Galerius was a ferocious anti-Christian, while his colleague Constantius – who had a son – was known to be sympathetic to Christians. In fact, Constantius even had Christians among his family and household, and that fact gave Galerius an opening to revise the succession plans in his own favour. By targeting Christians for renewed persecution, Galerius would damage Constantius and exclude his son from the succession. He could enhance his own power, and also gratify his hatred of Christianity. 

Galerius convinced Diocletian that Christians were to blame for a series of calamities, including a mysterious fire in the palace and the silencing of famous oracles. Thus, in the year 303, the emperors began what we call the Great Persecution. The campaign against the Christians was bitterly violent in Africa and the eastern Mediterranean, more benign in the lands that Constantius controlled in the West. But it produced many heroic martyrdoms and appalling suffering among Christian communities, and left scars that would linger for centuries. The Great Persecution ultimately failed to expunge Christianity from the face of the earth. Christians were simply too numerous, and many were too stubborn to be turned away from their beliefs. Even Galerius, the most committed of persecutors, came to accept the failure of his plans, and in 311 issued an edict of toleration. By 313, persecution had ceased. 

In the meantime, in 306, Constantius’s son Constantine had succeeded his father in the imperial college. Within five years, Constantine had made himself master of the western Roman empire and openly embraced Christianity. Always sympathetic to Christians, he claimed to have had a divine vision that helped lead his troops, flying Christian symbols on their standards, to victory in civil war in 312. The most reductionist reading of the evidence would say that, in 310, Constantine saw a solar halo, a rare but well-documented celestial phenomenon, in the south of France and in the company of his army, but Constantine’s account of events changed over the years and we can’t be sure. We can say with greater certainty that for several years he wavered between Christian and non-Christian interpretations of the sign. He eventually decided, to the delight of the Christian leaders in his entourage, that he had been sent a sign by the Christian God. He became a Christian, as a matter of belief and perhaps policy too. 

A fictional depiction of Constantius appointing his son, Constantine, as his successor
by Peter Paul Rubens, 1622

We will never know for sure what Constantine’s true motives were in converting to Christianity. What is certain, however, is that from the moment he had sole power in the West, he ruled as a Christian. He restored Christian property seized during the Great Persecution and enacted legislation that favoured Christians. When he became sole ruler of the empire in 324, he extended similarly pro-Christian policies to the eastern empire, where he not only favoured Christians, but actively discriminated against non-Christians, restricting their ability to worship or fund their temples. 

Even more momentously, though, Constantine intervened personally in conflicts among Christians over questions of discipline and right belief. In North Africa, Egypt and other parts of the Greek East, problems arose over such things as how to treat Christians who had cooperated with the authorities during persecution (the traditores, ‘handers-over’ of Christian holy books), or the correct relationship between God the Father and God the Son. Such disputes mattered, not least because Christians who believed the wrong thing would forfeit eternal life – or worse, ensure their own eternal damnation. Right belief, by contrast, opened the path to eternal salvation. 

By placing the authority of the Roman state and the imperial office to police and enforce right belief, Constantine created a model that would have a long and ambiguous history. Councils of bishops, ostensibly informed by the Holy Spirit, would henceforth define what was orthodox. Those who chose to believe otherwise would find themselves branded heretics, and excluded from the communion of orthodox Christians. Bishops and theologians would find an almost limitless number of problems to debate – over the relationship of God the Father and God the Son, over the divine nature of Jesus, over what that meant for the status of his mother, and so on. Each solution opened up a whole new set of problems.

According to Michael Kulikowski, "We will never know for sure what Constantine’s true motives were in converting to Christianity. What is certain, however, is that from the moment he had sole power in the West, he ruled as a Christian." Constantine truly ruled as a Christian -- not as medieval Christian kings and emperors who thought it was their duty as Christian kings to persecute non-Christians -- as he did not persecute pagans and allowed them to practice their religion freely. According to an article in Encyclopedia Britannica, his commitment to Christianity was constantly balanced by his concern for the stability of his empire and ancient Roman (pagan) traditions:

Some of the ambiguities in Constantine’s public policies were therefore exacted by the respect due to established practice and by the difficulties of expressing, as well as of making, total changes suddenly. The suppression of paganism, by law and by the sporadic destruction of pagan shrines, is balanced by particular acts of deference. A town in Asia Minor mentioned the unanimous Christianity of its inhabitants in support of a petition to the emperor; while, on the other hand, one in Italy was allowed to hold a local festival incorporating gladiatorial games and to found a shrine of the imperial dynasty—although direct religious observance there was firmly forbidden. In an early law of Constantine, priests and public soothsayers of Rome were prohibited entry to private houses; but another law, of 320 or 321, calls for their recital of prayer “in the manner of ancient observance” if the imperial palace or any other public building were struck by lightning. Traditional country magic was tolerated by Constantine. Classical culture and education, which were intimately linked with paganism, continued to enjoy enormous prestige and influence; provincial priesthoods, which were as intimately linked with civic life, long survived the reign of Constantine. Constantinople itself was predominantly a Christian city, its dedication celebrated by Christian services; yet its foundation was also attended by a well-known pagan seer, Sopatros.

Saint Constantine's feast day is observed on March 21, both by Orthodox and Catholic Christians, and he is a revered figure in many Protestant churches.