A lesson from History

The ancient Roman historian Titus Livius (59 BCE – 17 CE) reminds his readers in every age that “in history you have a record of the infinite variety of human experience plainly set out for all to see; and in that record you can find for yourself and your country examples and warnings; fine things to take as models, base things, rotten through and through, to avoid.”
The ancient Roman philosopher/statesman Cicero (106-43 BCE) tells the story of consul Marcus Atilius Regulus who was taken prisoner by the Carthaginians during the First Punic War. (Consuls were the chief civil and military officers in the Roman Republic. To get an idea of someone with equal status and authority combine General Eisenhower in 1944 with President Eisenhower in 1954.) The Carthaginians thought this provided them a great opportunity—one consul could be exchanged for hundreds of prisoners. So Regulus was sent back to Rome on parole, sworn to return if Carthage’s prisoners of war were not released. He came to the senate and stated his mission; but he then advised against the deal; for they were young men and officers who would make war on Rome, while he was only one man, already bowed with age. In the end Rome kept the prisoners, and Regulus returned to captivity in Carthage.
What do we learn from this? If nothing else it’s that before the exchange of prisoners the prudent thing is to win the war. Giving back over a thousand Palestinians, a goodly number with Jewish civilian blood on their hands, in exchange for one kidnapped Israeli soldier was inopportune. Doesn’t anyone over there read history? The Regulus story may be in the preserve of a few fussy scholars but ask this—during the First World War, how many prisoners were exchanged (answer: None before the Armistice). During World War II did we send back any Germans, Italians or Japanese in exchange for American POWs? (Hint: “No”.)
I know the rationale. Israel makes a commitment to the families of its conscripts (pretty much all age appropriate Israelis minus those in Yeshivas) to bring them back—alive if possible, if not, at least for burial. I understand. But when are they brought back, that’s the question. Three years ago Israel gave up a multiple murderer, Samir Kuntar who in 1979 killed a police officer then took a 28-year-old man and his 4-year-old daughter hostage. He shot the father dead in front of his little girl and then smashed her head in, killing her. Kuntar was sentenced to 542 years in prison. But in 2008 Israel arranged a swap. It received the cadavers of 1st Sgt. Ehud "Udi" Goldwasser and Sgt. 1st Class Eldad Regev in exchange for this sadistic murder who upon his return to Lebanon was hailed as a hero by Hezbollah. And now the returning heroes of Hamas have been greeted in Gaza with cries from the crowd to kidnap more Israelis, to get back more prisoners. Sergeants Goldwasser and Regev were spared what Gilad Shalit may soon suffer. Can you imagine the young man’s anguish when the first of the terrorists released to get him back blows up a pizzeria, or a bus, or a Seder, or a pedestrian mall?
Israel prides itself on the return of conscripts but has forgotten the other part of the social contract, the part that says we will protect the civilians of Israel from terrorists. Israel, any government, must remember to do no harm to its population. It’s bad enough that despite seeking peace Israel has been in a state of perpetual war for its entire existence; it’s worse that it gives enemies fresh soldiers to make war on it. Hamas is strengthened; Israel has handed it potentially returning terrorists or if not them, has encouraged another generation to take the risk. After all, if they are captured before or after their assaults on civilians, all they have to do is wait a few years in jail and then come home to a hero’s welcome.
This edition of the Jewish Voce & Herald is due out on November 11, 2011, 11/11/11 for you numerologists. On November 11, 1918 at 11:00 AM, the First World War came to an end and then prisoners were exchanged, no longer a danger to the countries that had held them in captivity. I’m glad that Shalit is home, but the price was too high. Wait until after victory. Remember the lesson of Regulus, that honorable man.

September 15- Lessons about proportionate response to kidnapping from the Iliad

The return of the Jewish New Year is happening with increasing frequency, or so it seems. Already I can taste the flavors of my wife’s cooking and hear the Rosh Hashanah-only tunes. We have survived 5766. As a child I used to think of God sitting with an open book on His lap deciding who should live and inscribing the names of the fortunate. Now, as an adult, I see no evidence that He isn’t, so like the famous wager of Pascal, I’ll bet on the side of belief and see if it pays off.

Jews are Janus-faced this time of year. We look backward to see forward. I always look backward; I’m an historian. It’s an occupational hazard. Last week I was teaching about the ancient Greeks. I told them the story of the contest between Aphrodite, Hera, and Athena. Each wanted the golden apple inscribed “To the Fairest.” Zeus refused to choose—he was as dull witted as he was strong and randy, but he wasn’t insane enough to get involved in this no-win (for him) situation. Instead they sought out a man, and asked him. Naturally a mere mortal couldn’t choose the most beautiful among the three goddesses, so each tendered a bribe. Hera, offered power; Athena, wisdom; Aphrodite, the most beautiful of women. Paris, a prince of Troy tending sheep (his father had received a prophesy when he was born that he would be responsible for the destruction of Troy; rather than kill the infant he gave him to a shepherd to do it; these things never work out, of course) chose Aphrodite who delivered on her promise. But she had failed to tell the young, foolish, man, that the woman promised would be Helen (she of the face that was soon to launch a thousand ships) already married to Menelaus, the warlike king of Sparta, scion of the cursed race of Atreus. They met while he was on grand tour following his punishment. When Menelaus was away, they stole off, landing safely in Troy, but bringing in their wake those self-same thousand ships filled with Greeks, determined to get her back.

There were those in Troy who told Paris to return the girl, that she wasn’t worth the price, but Paris being vainglorious, and knowing that no one could force him to return Helen, insisted on keeping his prize. The Greeks eventually came and destroyed the city.

As I was telling the students this familiar story, it occurred to me, mid-sentence: Can there be a more analogous situation in literature to what happened in the Middle East this summer? Hezbollah stole into our territory, stole our two soldiers (thinking, it is now revealed, that there would be no consequences). Many prominent Lebanese asked, begged, for the soldiers to be released, but Hezbollah refused, in its arrogance, and Lebanon was bombarded, its infrastructure devastated.

In the ancient story as told by Homer, the end of the war was not ambiguous. The Greeks, love ’em or hate ’em, knew what they were after and settled for no less than the return of their hostage (yes, Helen was a willing hostage, but even she yearned to return to Sparta).

When I teach the Iliad I usually root for the Trojans, especially for their great hero Hector. The Greeks, it’s always seemed to me, were the arrogant Yankees, the Trojans the noble Brooklyn Dodgers, doomed to fail gallantly. But now, now the Greeks are still the Yankees, the Trojans still the Dodgers, but current events allow me to view the past with a different perspective. When they steal your people, you have to go in and get them back. Innocent Trojans died; innocent Lebanese died. They should have taken control of their destinies by forcing Hezbollah to give up the captured soldiers, by forcing Paris to give back Helen. If Israel’s response was disproportionate, it was just acting as people always do, when they can, when their people are snatched up.

At year’s end, year’s beginning, let me end where I started, with a New Year’s reflection. Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to speak to you, to pique your curiosity, occasionally to entertain, not infrequently to annoy (apparently). One day I’m going to trade in this old Olivetti portable electric typewriter, but not yet. Shanna Tova; may 5767 be for us a year of love and joy, peace and prosperity, good health and the wonder of discovery. Be strong and resolute, Haverim.

What I learned of human nature by watching Romeo and Juliet

Last Saturday I woke to the news of the shooting at the Seattle JCC. The war in Lebanon dragged on. I felt the need to get over the gloom, so we drove to Wilcox Park in Westerly to see Shakespeare. He’s been dead for quite a while now, but the magic of his words lives on quite nicely, thank you very much. The play was Romeo and Juliet, the first half of which, you will recall, is comedic, the second part less so.

Things start to go bad when Tybalt, Juliet’s cousin, kills Mercutio, Romeo’s quick-witted friend, and in a rage, Romeo kills Tybalt. All this on the day Romeo of the house of Montague secretly married Juliet, daughter of Capulet. Juliet’s mother, unaware of her daughter’s marriage, curses Romeo; she wants him dead. Attempting to impeach the credibility of the one reliable witness, she wails:

“He is kinsman to the Montague,
Affection makes him false, he speaks not true…
I beg for justice, which thou, Prince, must give—
Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live.”

Instead, Romeo is exiled. Friar Lawrence, in an attempt to bring the warring houses together has arranged for the secret marriage, and now he comes up with a plan to re-unite the lovers. Juliet will take a potion to feign death. Friar Lawrence will send a note to Romeo informing him of the ruse and inviting him back to Verona to sweep her away to the safety of his exile in Mantua. But the plan fails. Romeo doesn’t get the note. He buys poison, goes to the Capulet tomb where he drinks the quick acting stuff. Almost immediately upon his death, Juliet awakens, sees her dead lover, tries to find a few more drops of the poison to swallow, but when that fails, takes Romeo’s dagger and stabs herself to death.

The prince of Verona, who has been trying to impose peace between the warring factions within his city finds the bodies and summons the fathers. Montague enters the crypt tearfully announcing that his wife has died of a broken heart as a result of Romeo’s banishment. The prince, upon discovering the truth of what has happened, bellows in rage:

“Where be these enemies? Capulet! Montague!
See what a scourge is laid upon your hate
That Heav’n finds means to kill your joys ...
And I for winking at our discords too
Have lost a brace of kinsmen. All are punish’d.”

Later he modifies the hasty decree as the play ends. The families reconcile, but it is too late. The children still lie embraced by the eternal sleep of death. The prince sums up:

“A glooming peace this morning with it brings,
The Sun for sorrow will not show his head.
Go hence to have more talk of these sad things:
Some shall be pardon’d and some punished.
For never was a story of more woe
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.”

Listening to Juliet’s mother and later to the prince, looking to the sky and seeing the dagger-like image of the constellation Cygnus, the nature of man was suddenly revealed to me in all its horrid simplicity. In Lebanon it is being played out dramatically these past few weeks, though it’s been simmering to the occasional boil ever since at least 1936. Are we Jews the house Montague? Are the Arabs Capulet? I do not know. I do not care, but either way we are:

“Two households both alike in dignity
…From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.”

Shakespeare reminds us of two contradictory truths. The enmity between the houses was as self-destructively stupid as it was inevitable in the nature of man. The calls for vengeance bring on more vengeance. It is the human condition. We know it’s wrong, we know it’s stupid, and yet we cannot escape from the gripping maw of hatred which engulfs. As a student of history I try to pretend that we humans are reasonable creatures, and yet what crimes, wars, murders do I relate to my students on almost a daily basis? That being the case, though I know it will ultimately do no good, I’m for Israel being triumphant over Hezbollah and Hamas fighters until the world (the prince—for a while in 2000, I thought that the prince would be president Clinton; I’m pretty sure it won’t be Kofi Annan) imposes a peace that will last, how long? Only for a while, until the next unforgivable outrage.