4. Building a Civic State

In 1948 the first sovereign Jewish state in almost two millennia was launched. During the first two decades of statehood the basic patterns of Israeli politics were set, internal stability was secured, and the government established its legitimacy and its capacity to provide effective direction. Under the circumstances, this was no small achievement. The remarkable coherence and continuity attained in the early days of statehood has been a common theme in studies of the period.^[1]

The imposition of binding authority stands in sharp contrast to the weak and contested institutions of the yishuv. Yet it was the existence of the yishuv framework that made a smooth transition possible, and it was through established principles of inclusion, compromise, and (with one or two notable exceptions) voluntarism that the passage was negotiated peacefully. The bargaining to bring in the non-Zionist ultra-Orthodox (Agudat Yisrael) has been described in the previous chapter. A month before the British exit from Palestine in May 1948, yishuv leaders combined the executive bodies of the National Council and the Jewish Agency, and added representatives from groups not included in these bodies (because they had boycotted the previous elections): Agudat Yisrael, the Revisionists, the Sephardim (representing non-European Jews; on the meaning of “Sephardi” in Israel see chapter 7), and the Communists. This People’s Council of thirty-seven members, proportionally representing the significant groups within the Jewish community, became the legislative body of the new state, and from it was chosen a smaller body (People’s Administration) that became the executive branch (the cabinet or government in Israeli parlance). Only the Communists and (after some debate) the Revisionists were excluded from the cabinet.

During the early statehood period there was a push toward universalistic civic models, including the majoritarian model of democracy rather than more traditional consociational practices. Majoritarianism appealed to Mapai, the dominant party in the Labor camp and the central party in the system, since it stood to gain from changes that reduced the need for power-sharing.^[2] Mapai remained the largest party throughout this period, despite the existing gap between the ideology of the Labor elite and the more traditional moorings of the general public, and despite a huge influx of nonideologized immigrants that widened this gap yet further.

Mapai’s success was due in part to the effective leadership of David Ben-Gurion, who dominated the scene from the early 1930s until his resignation from the prime ministership in 1963. Central to the “Ben-Gurion system” was the concept of mamlachtiut, a term of his own devising that is usually translated as “statism.” But “statism” is misleading because Ben-Gurion did not consider the state as an end in itself. Ben-Gurion sought to instill respect for what Peter Medding terms “legitimate state public authority,” or in Ben-Gurion’s own words, “a sense of public responsibility.” ^[3] This is clearly related to the universalist ethic of the civic state, and in fact the term “civic-mindedness” may come closest to conveying the broader nuances of what Ben-Gurion meant by mamlachtiut.

The Ben-Gurion System

As Ben-Gurion saw it, Jewish history left a legacy that was inimical to statehood: “We brought with us from the diaspora customs of disintegration, anarchy, lack of national responsibility and unity.…” ^[4] He also condemned the pre-state communal politics of the yishuv for its destructive splits and challenges to the collective framework. In response he sought to establish the universally binding character of the new state, not as an end in itself but as an instrument for achieving the common goals of Zionism in restoring the Jewish people to normality among the family of nations.^[5]

But while mamlachtiut was revolutionary as policy, it also had a dialectic relationship with the Jewish past. Unlike those who thought tradition and civic statehood to be irreconcilable, Ben-Gurion sought to redefine tradition so as to make the two compatible. This was accomplished, as with much in Zionism, by the selective use of the past and by filling traditional concepts and symbols with new content (giving religious holidays, for example, a much more national connotation). Like many others, Ben-Gurion turned to the Bible and to the ancient period—the time of Jewish statehood—rather than to the long intervening history of exile and passivity. Even the term he employed (derived from mamlacha, or “kingdom”) reflected a preference for the heroic models of antiquity.^[6]

Ben-Gurion was thus not working strictly according to the Western civic conception of the state but with a synthesis in which the state has positive functions in Jewish terms. Foremost among these functions was to preserve and promote Jewish unity, the lack of which was, for Ben-Gurion, the bane of Jewish history. He was therefore willing to build into the state structure a high tolerance for pluralism, as in his accommodation with religious interests (including the anti-Zionists who had opposed him at every step). This ran counter to Ben-Gurion’s strong bias for majoritarian rather than consociational democracy, especially with regard to the electoral system; he viewed proportional representation and the proliferation of parties as pernicious arrangements that put partisan interests ahead of the general welfare.

But if mamlachtiut was not strictly based on the civic model, it was even further from the socialist faith that saw the state as an instrument for achieving the goals of the working class. Was Labor Zionism, at least in the Mapai version, moving closer to Western liberalism than to classic Marxism? Ben-Gurion expressed increasing ambivalence on some ideological points, such as the primacy of the kibbutz model. He criticized the kibbutz movement for its sluggish response to the national task of absorbing new immigrants: “Only pioneering that is prepared to serve the state faithfully in all its revolutionary tasks in their new form will from now on be worthy of the name.” ^[7] On many issues, he found greater support from the “civic” parties in the center of the spectrum (Progressives and General Zionists) than from his colleagues on the left, who were threatened both ideologically and institutionally by some of his projected reforms.

The first task of mamlachtiut, to bring all elements of the Jewish community under government authority, was accomplished with relative success. The arrangements with the ultra-Orthodox community have already been mentioned. The military arm of the Revisionist movement—Etsel (also known as Irgun), led by Menachem Begin—discussed various options including establishing its own government, but in the end was integrated into the new Israeli army. This process was marred by only one major incident, the Altalena affair of June 1948, when Ben-Gurion ordered the use of force to prevent the unloading of a ship’s cargo of weapons sent by Etsel from Europe. Herut, the political successor to Etsel, was the first party to be founded after independence and quickly integrated into parliamentary life.

The second line of attack was to reduce sectarianism in public life. Ben-Gurion moved to dismantle the Palmach, the elite “striking force” that had its own command structure, because of its close links with the left-wing socialist party Mapam and its affiliated kibbutz movement. Regarding the use of the party key to distribute governmental jobs, after ten years of debate the Knesset finally passed three laws in 1959 designed to ensure appointment by merit, rather than by political considerations, at all but the highest ranks of the civil service.

Ben-Gurion also moved, where possible, to put public services on a civic, nonpartisan basis. After a lengthy fight, the four independent educational networks were reduced to two state systems (one secular, one religious) and one state-supervised and state-supported independent system (in the ultra-Orthodox community). Independent labor exchanges were also eventually taken over by the state. However, Ben-Gurion abandoned efforts to nationalize health services—provided mostly by the Histadrut—because of fierce resistance from his own political camp.^[8]

These efforts were backed up by programs to regularize and professionalize government operations. The Declaration of Independence, like its U.S. counterpart, is a repository of liberal universalism. According to its words, the State of Israel “will promote the development of the country for the benefit of all its inhabitants…will uphold the full social and political equality of all its citizens, without distinction of race, creed or sex; will guarantee full freedom of conscience, worship, education and culture…and will dedicate itself to the principles of the Charter of the United Nations.” There is argument over whether these provisions have constitutional status in Israeli law; the Israeli Supreme Court has ruled they are not constitutional, but they may nevertheless have constitutional significance in ruling between two interpretations of a law where the intent of the founders of the state is an issue.^[9] Also, in a 1994 amendment to the Basic Law: Freedom of Occupation, it is stipulated that interpretation of that basic law, as well as the Basic Law: Human Freedom and Dignity, was to be in accord with the spirit of the Declaration of Independence.

The Declaration of Independence, and the formation of a provisional government, were to have been followed by a formal written constitution. The writing of a constitution was, however, stymied by basic disagreement (especially between secular and religious parties) over the basic character of a Jewish state—a question that could hardly be avoided or circumvented in a written constitution. Instead, a compromise was reached whereby certain “Basic Laws” would be adopted one by one, thus assembling over time the building blocks of a finished constitution.

The basic structure and prerogatives of the legislative and executive branches were set in the Transition Law adopted by the newly elected Constituent Assembly (which declared itself to be the First Knesset ) in February 1949. Known as the “Small Constitution,” this was the foundation for later Basic Laws on these matters and thus determined the basic operations of government that still exist.^[10]

The area in which Western liberal norms penetrated most deeply was the legal and judicial system. This involved the continuing construction of a system of civil courts alongside the traditional Jewish courts. The superiority of rabbinic law was no longer assumed; Israel now had a body of civil law, much of it derived from or influenced by Western sources, that took precedence. The coercive authority of religious leaders was limited to a very small sphere, apart from those who voluntarily accept rabbinical rulings (on the other hand, in the area in which they did wield authority—basically family law—rabbinical courts were now backed by the police power of the state).

Why should foreign influence be stronger precisely in law and judiciary, the greatest strength of traditional Jewish governance? This was due in part to the development of a dual court system during the Mandatory period, as the British established civil courts in place of the previous Ottoman institutions. The rabbinic courts continued to function as they had before, within their own community and parallel to similar courts in other communities. The secular courts drew upon both Ottoman and British law (with Ottoman law also being strongly Western-influenced because of its borrowing from the French code). The Jewish aptitude for law is demonstrated in this case by the quick adaptation to, and adoption of, the Mandatory legal system and its continuation as the basis for an Israeli civil system. Thus the traditional strength of the judicial framework was respected and maintained, while the substantive content shifted to Western secular legal principles.

There was some overlap with Jewish law, and Jewish law was specified as one of the sources for Israeli law. But the role of Jewish law in civil courts has been minor, for a number of reasons: the complexity of Jewish law itself, its lack of answers on many contemporary issues, unfamiliarity with it on the part of secular judges, and the existence of a large body of law and precedent designed precisely for the issues faced in civil courts. The greatest contribution of Jewish law, as it turned out, was in the area of terminology, where the traditions of the centuries had developed Hebrew nomenclature for almost any legal concept. But even here, traditional terms were often given new meanings in the new context; even the legal definition of “Jew” became a matter of contention between religious and civil authorities.^[11]

The process of anglicizing Israeli law, mainly through the continuing infusion of English common law, continued in the first twenty years of statehood. After that, the increased role of Israeli legislation reversed the process. But general legal procedures, reasoning, and precedents remain similar to those of countries in the common law tradition. Also, a number of key jurists in the formative period were from what in Israel is termed an “Anglo-Saxon” (English-speaking) background; of the fifteen justices appointed to the Supreme Court from 1948 to 1963, nine had received at least part of their legal education in English-speaking countries.^[12]

The independence and professionalism of the judiciary are protected by a nonpolitical appointment process. Supreme Court justices, for example, are selected by a commission that includes three justices, two cabinet ministers, two members of the Knesset chosen by secret ballot, and two members of the Israeli Bar Association. Attempts to bring political pressure to bear have usually met a sharp response.^[13] At the same time, judges have shown caution in dealing with controversial political issues and have generally refused to substitute their judgment for that of the executive branch on matters other than legal interpretation. But the Supreme Court has asserted the right to nullify both legislation that contravenes entrenched provisions of a Basic Law and administrative actions judged to be contrary to the basic values of a free society. The successful depoliticization and high prestige of the judiciary provides one of the “paradoxes” of Israeli civil life: “These characteristics make the Israeli judicial system very un-Israeli and hence important as a bastion of Israeli democracy in a sea of forces that would hasten the erosion of its foundations.” ^[14]

The penumbra of impartiality extends to a number of quasi-judicial elements in the Israeli government. The attorney general, though appointed by the cabinet, enjoys a wide degree of independence, including the power to prosecute members of the government. The state controller, responsible only to the Knesset, issues yearly reports on government operations, notable for their critical impartiality, that receive great publicity and are taken seriously. In recent years the controller has also functioned as a public ombudsman, receiving and acting upon grievances of individual citizens in their dealings with bureaucracy. A law in 1968 also made provision for the appointment of independent commissions of inquiry, with full investigative powers and the right to make specific recommendations (Ben-Gurion’s long campaign for a judicial investigation into the notorious Lavon affair may have helped in the passage of this law).^[15] The development of “constitutionalism” and civic culture through the judicial system and analogous bodies will be explored further in chapter 6.

Another area of progress in civic-mindedness, less mentioned perhaps because it was so obvious, was foreign affairs and diplomacy. That these realms belong to the prerogatives of a sovereign government is not disputed, and the pressures of the situation ensured that Israel’s interests as a state remained at the core of policy. Nevertheless, even here some particular traditions shaped at least the style of Israeli diplomacy: the assumption of a hostile world was reflected in anger toward external criticism (in the United Nations, for example), the legacy of shtadlanim was seen in the use of special emissaries and tendencies to practice diplomacy secretly or through back channels, and the fate of Jewish communities throughout the world was a consistent concern in foreign policy.^[16]

However, the Holocaust had already made the yishuv more independent by eliminating its Eastern European base of support. On the question of the role of other communities, Ben-Gurion again took the mamlachtiut position, refusing to compromise Israeli sovereignty by formalizing a role for Jews who were not citizens of the state. On the other hand, as a matter of practical compromise with the World Zionist Organization, the Jewish Agency continued to function and to share responsibility with the government on immigration and settlement.^[17]

Apart from foreign and defense policies, where both necessity and tradition supported the need for clear authority, policy was also centralized in some other areas. In economic policy, Mapai’s central role in both the government and the Histadrut ensured a high level of coordination and control. In local government, inheritance of the Mandate structure meant a high degree of centralization, in contrast to the pre-Mandate yishuv structure where authority flowed from the local settlements to the top.^[18]

But the key to centralization of authority in the Ben-Gurion system, and perhaps the greatest break with traditional patterns, was the way Ben-Gurion combined the parliamentary model with strong parties and coalition politics to produce a government with not only a strong civic aspect but also with many elements of majoritarianism. Strong parties had been at the center of yishuv politics; after statehood, they lost some of their functions as ideological movements providing a broad array of services directly to their members. On the other hand, most of them gained a share in running the new government and thus extended their power indirectly, over a broader area and through neutral and more effective machinery.^[19]

Since no party ever captured a majority in an election, control was achieved by assembling a workable majority coalition and imposing the principle of collective responsibility. This tenet, taken from the British, meant that all ministers were bound by cabinet decisions. Parties thus could refuse to go along with a cabinet majority only if they were willing to sacrifice their share of power by leaving the coalition. Furthermore, Ben-Gurion constructed his coalitions in such a way that no single party could make the obvious counterthreat to bring down the government by leaving. This greatly reduced the actual power-sharing required for the central party (Mapai) to put together a government.^[20]

The result, as in other parliamentary systems, is to eclipse the parliament. Although the legislative branch theoretically controls the government, the reality is executive dominance. Arian puts it most tersely: “One of the important myths of Israeli political life is that checks and balances exist within the system. This is simply not so.” ^[21] So long as a government coalition, working through disciplined political parties, commands a stable majority in the Knesset, then it—and not the Knesset—is the locus of important decision-making. This is one of the hallmarks of the Westminster model of majoritarian democracy, and the most majoritarian aspect of the Israeli system (so long as the above assumptions hold). It is also, perhaps, Ben-Gurion’s greatest accomplishment in pulling the Israeli government away from the hold of Jewish politics.

Needless to say, this leaves the Knesset with limited functions. The Knesset serves to register the results of an election, and thus the bargaining strength of each party, until the next election is held. It is also where the bargains and decisions reached are formally validated by legislative approval, serving, in other words, a “legitimizing function” primarily. But it is a weak institution, dependent on the government rather than the reverse.

Ben-Gurion’s success in establishing effective cabinet rule led of course to criticism that there was too much concentration of state power. As already noted in chapter 1, fears for Israeli democracy were widely expressed and focused particularly on the majoritarian aspects of the Ben-Gurion system:

1. The lack of effective oversight by a Knesset dependent on the government.
2. The dominance of parties within the system, with few counterweights.
3. The dominance of one party; little chance for a government without Mapai.
4. The lack of democracy within parties, which tended to oligarchy.
5. The role of interlocking institutions (the Histadrut) tied to the power center.
6. The tendency of a dominant elite to heavy-handed paternalism.

The last point may merit additional comment. Rooted in the elitist traditions of Eastern European socialism and long accustomed to making the important decisions in the molding of a new society, many of the aging generation of Labor Zionists slipped easily into an attitude of benevolent despotism. To take just one illustration: in 1953 the cabinet, facing a growing exodus because of economic hardships, debated a proposal to withdraw from Israeli citizens the right to leave their country. Moshe Sharett, one of the more liberal and Western-oriented Mapai leaders, supported the proposal and even wrote in his diary that “the State should save them and their offspring—if necessary against their will—from the eternal gypsy curse with which they seek relief from absorption pains in their sole home in all the world.” ^[22]

Intense ideological differences still prevailed during this period, leading to questions about the legitimacy of those on either end of the spectrum. At one point, security services implanted listening devices in the offices of Mapam—a party that was at various times a member of government coalitions. On the right, Herut was sometimes condemned as a “fascist” movement and was excluded not only as a potential coalition partner but also in the sharing of benefits. Although the first twenty years represented a high point in applying civic ideology to Israeli political life, it was also in some ways the least democratic period in the nation’s politics. Many democratic trends—greater political competition, more autonomous social groups, less control of media, a judiciary more active in protecting rights, repeal of emergency regulations, less politicization in the civil service—became important factors only later in this period.

The long dominance of Labor Zionists was the central political fact of the first thirty years of statehood. This dominance was the result of a combination of external and internal circumstances that seemed to mold a national consensus around Labor leadership while disguising the developments that were slowly eroding it.

The remarkable political stability during this period is expressed in the consistency of voting behavior. As Table 1 shows, in the seven elections between 1949 and 1969, Labor Zionist parties as a bloc consistently gained at least half of the 120 available seats (from 59 to 65 seats, or 49 to 54 percent, to be precise).The Center-Right parties (a category that combines General Zionists and Revisionists) consistently received a little less than a third of the seats (from 31 to 35 seats, or 26 to 29 percent). Religious parties varied between 12.5 and 15 percent.

This striking regularity took place during a period of mass immigration and enormous social and political upheaval. A number of explanations are usually offered: (1) Given the consensus produced by the concern for survival, there was a tendency to stick to existing leadership; (2) in the circumstances of mass immigration, parties were able to recruit new members in rough proportion to their existing strength; (3) newcomers were more interested in concrete benefits than in ideology, and this instrumental dependence again worked in favor of the existing establishment, which had control of the benefits; (4) Ben-Gurion and Mapai were identified with the state, as the aura of the founding period had not yet faded; (5) the tendency to defer to official leadership in certain policy areas carried over into passive support at the polls.^[23]

The capacity of parties to recruit new members in proportion to their existing strength was even institutionalized in the arrangements for absorption of new immigrants, which were governed by the omnipresent party key. The various camps and settlements were actually allocated to parties according to their electoral strength in the Jewish Agency, Histadrut, and Knesset. Mapai initially received over 50 percent of these allocations, meaning that over half of the new immigrants were dependent on services and instruction provided by Mapai personnel. In addition, new immigrants were funneled into the Histadrut Sick Fund (Kupat Holim Klalit) for health services, where they received three months of free membership and another year of services at a reduced rate—but in order to take advantage of this arrangement they had to become members of the Histadrut, where they were once again exposed to the dominant influence of Mapai.

The remarkable stability of voting patterns also reflected consensus on the tasks facing the nation and the basic strategies for dealing with them. The ruling Labor elite was able to align itself with this consensus not because of mass ideological conversion to its worldview, but because of accumulated institutional advantages, because of the need to focus on practical developmental problems (Labor Zionism’s historic forte), and because it profited from a tendency to defer to existing leadership that was reinforced both by the threats to the state’s existence and by the traditional Jewish habit of unification and closure against the outside.

In addition, different issues cut in different ways; Mapai and the National Religious Party disagreed on religious issues but found common ground on economic policy, while the relationship between Mapai and Mapam was sometimes the other way around. In this situation of cross-cutting alliances, no party was in total opposition to any other party; all would find some grounds for cooperation on at least one set of issues. There were at least three axes, or sets of issues, that cut in different ways in Israeli politics during this period.

First, on the normal left-right socioeconomic dimension, Labor Zionist parties were leftist and General Zionists (the chief ideological supporters of a free market) were rightist. Conflict on this dimension was somewhat muted, however, by the fact that the “far right”—Herut—favored a strong state role in the economy, partly in order to reduce the role of Mapaidominated institutions such as the Histadrut but also as an expression of its general statist orientation and a certain populist streak.^[24] In fact, because of the general acceptance of collective responsibility for social justice (translated in a modern setting into welfare statism), as well as the preoccupation with security, the left-right dimension never achieved in Israel the centrality it holds elsewhere. In fact, it has been obscured even more by a reverse correlation between income levels and party identification; see chapter 6.

Second was the axis of Arab-Israeli relations, which overlapped but was not identical to the first dimension.^[25] There was, for example, a party to the left of Mapai on economic issues—Ahdut Ha’avoda—that took a more hard-line position on defense and territories. Conversely, the Progressives, a nonsocialist party, took a fairly dovish position in foreign policy.

Third was the religious-secular axis, at this time not yet correlated with issues such as settlements in the occupied territories. Religious parties were not deeply involved in economic or foreign policy, beyond the prevailing consensus, but focused on religious matters. As late as 1968, Arian could note that “religious issues in Israel are largely independent of the left-right split.” ^[26] This meant that the religious parties enjoyed a key position in the bargaining to establish a governing coalition. Though controlling only 10 to 15 percent of the seats, their flexibility on most economic and foreign policy issues made a bargain with them irresistible to Mapai. In return for concessions on issues on interest mainly to the religious community, the government would gain the consistent support of 10 to 15 percent of the Knesset, which greatly increased its leverage with parties making serious demands on mainstream issues. Consequently, the religious parties—the National Religious Party in particular—became the “balancers” of the system; with only brief interludes, the NRP was a member of every governing coalition until 1992.

The appearance of consensus was also strengthened in the early period by the weakness or absence of autonomous groups outside the party system. Most institutions and organizations in public life, including even most interest groups and most media, were tied to political parties, if not to the government itself or quasi-governmental bodies such as the Histadrut or the Jewish Agency. Only a part of the press was truly independent. There were relatively few political protest movements, and most of these were short lived. There was a low level of political activity and protest outside the system generally during these years; as late as 1972, a poll of secondary school students would show that fully 85 percent across the board—religious, traditional, or secular—believed in pursuing their political goals through the existing institutional framework.^[27] It would seem, at first glance, that mamlachtiut had succeeded in creating an unmediated political system swept clear of significant autonomous centers of power.

Despite ferocious ideological warfare among the parties, many of the basic issues and decisions that faced the new state were either settled, or dormant, by the end of the first decade. On socioeconomic policy, the respective roles of the public and private sectors were basically settled, with considerable latitude for the latter but strong government direction and support for social welfare. The status quo that was reached on religious questions matched no one’s ideological preferences but served as a reasonable point of reference that avoided major clashes (see chapter 8). The question of Israel’s diplomatic orientation was settled by developments that left a pro-Western stance as the only choice. On security issues, there was general agreement on a policy of self-reliance, active defense, and de facto acceptance of existing borders. Territorial claims beyond the armistice lines of 1949 seemed increasingly unrealistic as time passed; Herut continued to insist on the Jewish right to all of Palestine as an article of faith in its creed, but the issue was dormant in Israeli politics. Nor did religious parties, at this point, challenge the territorial status quo.

This consensus did not, however, include non-Jewish citizens of Israel. Though members of the civic state by universalist criteria, the Arab minority in Israel was not in fact an actor in the political system in any meaningful way, nor did it have an equitable share of the benefits.^[28] The case of Israeli Arabs is the acid test of civic-mindedness, since it poses the problem of an “enemy” minority; it demonstrates the character and limits of traditional communitarian politics in dealing with those outside the community (see chapter 9).

Even within the Jewish community the extent of the prevailing consensus, and the hold of Labor dominance, was limited. Some of the more divisive issues were merely dormant during these years, not resolved. Many of the factors that had given Labor an edge in mobilizing support were temporary in nature. There was a large and measurable gap between the political beliefs of the Labor Zionist elite and the general public; the electorate was voting to the left of its opinions, a situation unlikely to continue indefinitely.^[29] Furthermore, the very longevity of Labor dominance produced bureaucratic ossification over time. By the late 1960s Israel was guided by a traditional political elite noted for its stability, longevity, and homogeneity, despite the growing pluralism of Israeli society. The longevity of this elite’s tenure in power delayed the process of generation change, to an Israel-born leadership, that might have been expected sooner.^[30] As a result, the change never fully took place, since it was soon superseded by a more fundamental revolution in Israeli politics.

In light of these facts, then, how much did mamlachtiut really change Jewish political life below the surface? Many of the “successes” in building a civic state were only minimal features of any sovereign state: a monopoly of legitimate authority in its own territory, control of defense and diplomacy. Ben-Gurion could also begin with a clean slate in structuring an army and a foreign service. In other areas, mamlachtiut was so intertwined with partisan advantages for Mapai that a judgment is difficult: this would apply to the dissolution of the Palmach, the attack on Etsel forces in the Altalena affair, and even the establishment of state-run labor exchanges (under the control of a Mapai minister of labor). In fact, anything that enlarged the scope of government during this period could be seen as an extension of Mapai’s power.

Some argue that the enlargement of the state at the expense of the party was precisely what led to the eventual fall of Labor Zionism; Labor in essence disarmed itself, by allowing such critical functions as education to pass from a framework imbued with socialist values to a sanitized state network.^[31] This greatly overstates, however, the actual impact of mamlachtiut. Mapai actually gave up little in the education reform, as it had only partial control of the Histadrut educational system, and gained in its place direction of the Ministry of Education.^[32] As elsewhere, Labor Zionists moved from direct party rule in a sector of society to broader influence with more effective if “neutral” machinery.

Furthermore, in most of the new government machinery, even after the finalization of the civil service legislation in 1959, political appointments and the party key continued to be important. The legislation left a number of loopholes through which political appointments could be made, so that it is sometimes described as a compromise between a merit system and traditional patronage politics. While the scope of political appointments did narrow gradually over the years, only the most naive could avoid noticing a correlation between a minister’s party affiliation and the political cast of his ministry. One should also add to the scorecard the areas in which mamlachtiut made no progress whatsoever, such as health services and electoral reform.

All in all, there was reason for the advocates of the Western model of a civic state to be disappointed in the final result. As Ben-Gurion himself expressed it in an interview at the end of his career, “Jews never understood mamlachtiut. ” ^[33]

The Persistence of Jewish Politics

While Ben-Gurion’s achievements in establishing effective executive power are impressive, it would be misleading to focus only on the structure and powers of Israeli institutions. As in traditional Jewish politics, there was often a mismatch between the formal procedures of government and the way in which decisions were actually made.

In this regard, the failure to adopt a written constitution is instructive. While absence of a constitution is usually regarded as a hallmark of majoritarianism, in the Israeli case it is more an expression of the traditional consociational style of Jewish politics. Religious party leaders were opposed in principle to the idea of a constitution, so the issue was averted through a compromise that made an eventual constitution possible but put the unbridgeable issue of principle aside for the moment. Unable to adopt a written constitution because of unbridgeable gaps of principle, the political elite devised a system whose stability rested on the sharing of power within the government and between the government and other institutions.

The government itself sometimes resembled a federation of competing bureaucracies. Ministries with different institutional histories (some of them predating the state), and with different constituencies, interacted like independent fiefdoms. There was a proliferation of government bodies or government-sponsored bodies with authority in specific areas; many decisions in Israeli public policy are made by such bodies as the State-Owned Companies Authority, the Council of Higher Education, the Israel Lands Authority, the Local Authorities Center, and even such bodies as the Vegetable Marketing Council and the Citrus Marketing Council. There was a fragmentation of functions among autonomous and overlapping authorities. Tax collection agencies, for example, included separate bodies for income tax, customs and excise taxes, value added tax, national insurance, property tax, television and radio taxes, and consolidated tax, as well as local tax agencies. Five different administrative agencies served the disabled community in Israel, while state planning was divided among at least five separate bodies (which set up some 200 companies). The proliferation of institutions, each jealously guarding its own territory, has reminded some observers of a classic feudal order.^[34] Even in the area of local government there was less centralization among the more than 200 local autonomous authorities than would appear at first, as will be seen in chapter 6.

The Chief Rabbinate represents another autonomous institution carrying out public functions and providing what would normally be considered government services. This extends to an elaborate interlocking network that includes the Ministry for Religious Affairs, religious courts, local religious councils, religious state schools, and other state-supported institutions, all of it together constituting an institutional base from which Orthodox leaders negotiate with the central organs of power. Since ultra-Orthodox groups were independent of this official religious establishment, maintaining their own rabbinical authorities, court systems, schools, and other institutions, power was further diffused.

Another dimension of the diffusion of power was the prominence in Israeli public life of quasi-governmental institutions performing what would ordinarily be considered governmental functions. The Histadrut determined much public policy in such areas as health care, welfare, pensions, and wage policies, and remains a key participant—not just a source of influence, but an actor in the system—in broad economic decision-making. The Jewish Agency remained active in immigration, settlement, economic development, and relations with Jewish communities abroad. The Jewish National Fund continued to handle the purchase and management of public lands.

Among these various bodies bargaining has been the typical mode of operation, even when, as in the early statehood period, it might have appeared otherwise. Major decisions were usually preceded by negotiation not only within the dominant party and within the governing coalition, but also among government ministries and other official bodies, between the government and various quasi-governmental institutions, and even with private organizations and interests. Typical is the triangular bargaining process among the Ministry of Finance, the Histadrut, and the Manufacturers’ Association that precedes any major change in economic policy. This reflects the division of the Israeli economy into three major sectors: governmental, Histadrut, and private. The economic divisions among these three sectors, and among the parties, were blurred considerably during the period of Labor dominance by the policy of extending state subsidies to keep down the cost of basic foodstuffs and to help nascent industries.

The reality of this pattern was also obscured for a considerable time by the dominance of one party. So long as Mapai controlled the government and the most important ministries within it, as well as the Histadrut and the Jewish Agency, then much of the bargaining took place within the party. But over time the role of parties as brokers declined as other bodies became more independent and more assertive. Finally, when control of the key institutions was no longer in the hands of a single party (after 1977), confrontations and bargaining became more intense and more public.

The role of parties is always critical, however, since they are still primary actors in the drama, and the crucial “governmental” decisions themselves are, as often as not, actually made in party councils, whether by the dominant party alone or in bargaining among the parties. The most important governing document in Israeli politics may be the coalition agreement among the parties following each election, which sets the agenda until the next election. Since parties often represent basic social divisions—particularly the religious parties—this is the stage at which some key minority interests are registered and taken into account.

Parties are also critical as the path for success in a political career. Normally it is only through a party that a political activist can advance. According to Gregory Mahler, 80.5 percent of the eighty-six Knesset members interviewed in 1974 and 1975 cited a history of party activity as the reason for their nomination to office.^[35] The key to this process is, of course, the party list, since position on the list determines a candidate’s chances of success. This was in the past centralized in the hands of the party leadership, an arrangement described as a major weakness of Israeli democracy and a prime illustration of the “iron law of oligarchy.” ^[36] In fact, the entire party structure was highly oligarchic, based on the Eastern European model of layers of elected bodies, theoretically responsible to the rank and file but with power—including the all-important decisions on ranking candidates on the party list—actually flowing from the top. However, this process was less centralized than would appear. The ranking was in fact the product of intense intraparty bargaining, with a rough informal proportional representation operating to ensure the inclusion of important blocs and constituencies within the party. As a result, ironically, as the process became more democratic there were more problems in maintaining “balance” and minority representation on the lists.^[37]

During the first two decades, Mapai was the center of every government, but it also had to share power with other parties. Mapai was the largest single party and was located in the middle of the political spectrum; it was inconceivable that any combination of parties on the two ends of the spectrum could organize a majority without Mapai. On the other hand, since Mapai never controlled a majority by itself, it was forced to seek coalition partners both from the left and from the right. The strength of the prevailing consensus is shown by the fact that only the Communists on the far left, and (until 1967) Herut on the far right, were ruled out as potential coalition partners. All other parties could conceivably become part of the government, and nearly all of them did at one time or another.

More-than-minimal governing coalitions that include most of the major groups of society are regarded as a feature of consociational democracy, as opposed to the majoritarian practice of rule with a bare majority. Since independence Israel has been governed about three-quarters of the time by more-than-minimal coalitions; that is, parties have been added to the government even though their votes were not needed for a majority in the Knesset.^[38] On three occasions (1967–1970, 1984–1988, and 1988–1990), this even brought the two major blocs together in a Government of National Unity, a development which has only occasionally been matched by democratic regimes elsewhere. This kind of a “grand coalition” has not been the rule in the Israeli government either, though it has been routinely applied in other institutions such as the Jewish Agency and the World Zionist Organization. But overall the coalition-building has expressed the centrality of compromise and accommodation, trying to bring as many as possible inside the tent rather than leaving them in opposition. In this connection, the conventional wisdom that the religious parties have been the “balancers” in the system is exaggerated, especially for the earlier period. Religious parties (principally the National Religious Party) have been a part of almost every coalition, but up to 1992, only in ten of twenty-four coalitions was the government actually dependent on religious votes to keep a majority.^[39]

There are also good political reasons to put together a more-thanminimal coalition. The prospective prime minister may simply be trying to domesticate pivotal groups and keep them out of the opposition, or show loyalty to faithful partners of the past, or simply build an extra margin for safety. But above all, Ben-Gurion’s coalition strategy avoided dependence on one party, adding partners on both sides of the spectrum to neutralize each other and give himself greater leverage. This strategy outlasted BenGurion: in the period from 1977 to 1992 there was at least one expendable party in the government at all times except for two brief periods in 1977 and 1990–1991. All in all, the tendency to broaden governing coalitions goes beyond the dominant-party period, and beyond what can be explained on tactical grounds alone, and has managed to encompass within one government parties with broadly different philosophical outlooks (dovish and hawkish, religious and secular, modernist and traditional).

The major expression of inclusiveness, however, was the dominance of proportionality. Cursory consideration was given at the outset to other electoral systems, but it was quickly decided to retain proportional representation. This would avoid any argument that might delay the early holding of the first state elections, reflecting the widespread acceptance of the principle of proportionality as well as the half-century precedent of its use. In 1958, the principle of proportionality was entrenched in the Basic Law establishing the Knesset, which was made subject to amendment only by an absolute majority of Knesset members rather than a majority of those present, as is the case with ordinary legislation.

In a wider sense, this was not just a matter of an electoral system but part of the entire system of power-sharing. In the Knesset, proportionality was extended to the deputy speakerships and to committee chairmanships and seats. Government-wide, the party key was the criterion by which offices, budgets, and ultimately the full range of institutional resources were divided among parties according to their electoral strength. This was of course already the case in the quasi-governmental institutions, such as the Histadrut, which continued to operate in accustomed fashion. The World Zionist Organization elected a total of eight vice presidents so that each party could sit on the Presidium. Within the government, this “spoils system” coexisted with the civil service legislation since it was not always easy to disentangle party interests from the merits of the case. Though the Likud was at first slow to exploit this system after coming to power, by its second term in office there was little hesitation; a government minister could even brag, in 1986, that stories on political appointments in his ministry actually helped him within his own party, and consequently he did not deny them even if there were false.^[40]

Proportional representation guarantees a proliferation of parties, especially in Israel where the threshold for entry into the Knesset is set at the remarkably low level of 1.5 percent (before 1991 it was 1 percent). Generally twenty to thirty parties have run in the elections and ten to fifteen of them have passed the threshold. The proliferation of small parties has drawn much critical attention, and indeed the sheer number of bargaining partners has made coalition negotiation much more complex and has led to disproportionate material rewards (control of a government ministry by a two- or three-person faction, for example). But by their presence, small parties also serve several purposes in the system. During the earlier period, they served as a check on domination by Mapai. The easy access of small parties also checked oligarchic trends within parties, since dissatisfied factions always had (and often used) the option of seceding and running as a separate list, with reasonable chances for success. Small parties also serve to test the appeal of new ideas and the measure of dissatisfaction with the major parties. Finally, it is only through the low threshold for representation that minorities not close to the mainstream—particularly the ultra-Orthodox and the Arabs—gain direct representation in the Knesset.

The weakness of the Knesset also appears somewhat differently in this context. It is then seen not simply as a legislative body dominated by the executive but as one of the numerous arenas of bargaining and power-sharing brokered by the parties. As a legislative body, it is an easy target of ridicule. Seldom do Knesset deliberations change the thrust of government decisions. Nearly all government-initiated bills are enacted into law, and they account for the vastly greater part of the legislation adopted.^[41] Only twice has the Knesset passed a no-confidence vote in the government. Parties not only control the votes of their members (except on minor matters or, occasionally, by prior agreement on particularly controversial issues), but they also control the time allotted for speaking in plenary sessions and the right to propose a private bill (a quota is issued to each party). Even the right to ask questions is limited: questions must be in writing, those from members of government parties are screened by party leaders, and there is no guarantee that the minister will respond with a serious answer. It is, therefore, not too surprising that the level of dissatisfaction and frustration among rank and file legislators is extremely high.^[42]

Yet the Knesset is an integral part of the bargaining process and a mirror of the political culture in which it is embedded. It does more than merely process government decisions; though most legislation comes from the government, hardly any of it emerges in exactly the form it was introduced. And while the government rarely loses a no-confidence vote, it has often been defeated on other votes where the expression of contrariness is less heavily penalized. Debate is lively and provocative; the opposition has and uses the chance to dramatize its dissent. Furthermore, the sessions are totally open to the media, with television coverage usually focusing precisely on the most vociferous and unruly moments of parliamentary wrangling. As a result the Knesset’s lack of decorum has become a standing joke; a frequent plea used to quiet a gathering is “Order, please! This is not the Knesset here!”

Knesset members also, surprisingly, play a role as representatives of specific constituencies. This is surprising because they are not formally elected from any constituency and because the lack of such ties is supposedly one of the weakest aspects of proportional representation. Yet in fact party lists are drawn up to include representatives of key groups both inside and outside the party: major city party branches, the kibbutz and moshav (cooperative) movements, the Histadrut, those from various communal or occupational groups, women, or minorities. The matter is even simpler for the smaller parties, whose supporters can clearly identify the one or two representatives who speak for them. As a result, many citizens actually do have their “functional” representative to whom they turn. In this way the intimacy of the system counters the distance presumably created by proportional representation.

Ironically, Knesset members say that they spend most of their time, and derive most of their satisfaction, from constituent services. Some admit spending little time in Knesset sessions, using it instead to respond to those who have turned to them for assistance. This often involves acting as an intermediary between private citizens and groups on one side, and government agencies on the other (a kind of informal ombudsman). Knesset members can and do, however, go directly to the minister responsible rather than dealing with lower levels of the civil service. These kinds of personalized channels do not differ greatly from traditional patterns, and therefore it is no surprise that “the Israeli bureaucracy is geared to this clientele style of problem solving.” ^[43]

Interest groups in Israel also reflect this state of affairs. There is relatively little legislative lobbying of the traditional sort, since the important decisions are not made in the Knesset. There was also a relatively low level of truly autonomous bodies in the earlier period. Interest groups were organized to bargain with, or to pressure, the governmental ministries, parties, and other bodies that together made the important decisions. For this purpose, they not only approached decision-makers directly, as they would in most pluralist democratic systems, but sometimes become an integral part of the process. The kibbutz and moshav movements have been closely tied to the Ministry of Agriculture; the Israeli Manufacturers’ Association works closely with the Ministry of Commerce and Industry. To an unusual extent, in comparison to like situations elsewhere, doctors are consulted on the policies of the Ministry of Health, bus drivers on those of the Ministry of Transport, and teachers on those of the Ministry of Education. In some cases, especially on economic issues, the interest group goes beyond the role of bargaining for its own interests, and itself becomes a participant in the decisionmaking. At a minimum, many such groups are able to informally veto proposals that they consider inimical to their interests.^[44]

Even at its peak, therefore, centralized authority was offset by a bargaining style that permeated Israeli public life. What has been called a sense of “federative kinship” enables Israelis to regard official acts as points of reference, rather than as self-evident obligations. There is always room for argument; any decision can be (and usually is) contested both before it is made and after it has supposedly been finalized. Characteristically, therefore, there is a search for consensus before a decision is made, and strong disagreement usually leads to postponement of the matter pending further negotiations. Daniel Elazar argues that the pervasiveness of this consensual style of operation has made hierarchical organizations in Israel less efficient than those that respect and accommodate the traditional ways of doing business.^[45]

Another dimension of this pattern is the tendency to deal with outside challenges by trying to bring them within the system. Such efforts of cooptation were partly successful in the pre-state period, as we have seen, and were pursued more energetically after statehood. The history of the gradual step-by-step inclusion of the ultra-Orthodox community has, in a sense, been an essay in co-optation of a potentially alienated and disruptive force. Discontent among Jews from Asia and Africa has typically been met by cooptation of leaders of those communities, at first on a symbolic scale and eventually on a broad—if not quite proportional—basis (see chapter 7). The few incidents of extraparliamentary protest that arose in the early period on this communal background led to co-optation of the leaders directly involved. This perhaps helps explain the relatively low level of protest and extraparliamentary political activity during these years, when the political system was still able to cope with the relatively few challenges that it faced by resorting to this traditional tool.^[46]

While traditional protest and direct action may have been at a low ebb during the first two or three decades after 1948, the level of political awareness and knowledge was high. The Israeli public, as Jewish publics generally, was highly politicized and sensitive to developments likely to impinge on it. In a study done to compare Israeli “civic culture” with that of the five nations studied in Gabriel Almond and Sydney Verba’s classic 1963 study, 79 percent of the Israeli respondents reported reading a newspaper at least once a week (the highest figure in Almond and Verba’s study was 53 percent in Western Germany). Also, 76 percent of the Israeli sample followed political news on radio or television at least once a week (the highest elsewhere was 58 percent in the United States). In terms of political knowledge, 74 percent of the Israelis could name at least four government ministries and party leaders, as against 40 percent of the Germans, 34 percent of the Americans and the British, 23 percent of the Italians, and 21 percent of the Mexicans. Other studies have confirmed the general finding of a remarkably high (by comparative standards) level of political interest and awareness in Israel.^[47]

This is matched by a fairly high level of participation in elections, with about 80 percent turning out regularly. Access to the system for new parties is relatively easy, as seen in the large number of parties contending. Only two parties that met the minimal requirements have ever been excluded from the election: the Arab nationalist party El Ard in 1964, on grounds that it challenged the existence of Israel, and Rabbi Meir Kahane’s party, Kach, after 1988 because its platform was judged to be racist.

Access to the media was more limited in the early period, since radio (and television, which began in the late 1960s) were under state control, and most of the press was party affiliated. This became more pluralistic and more flexible over time, however. In 1965 the establishment of the Israel Broadcasting Authority brought more autonomy to the electronic media, though a degree of political influence remained and the issue became even more controversial after the Likud takeover in 1977. Nevertheless, a variety of viewpoints are heard, especially during election campaigns when each party is given free broadcast time (again, in proportion to its electoral strength). The press over the years became increasingly variegated and critical, with much of the party press disappearing. Access to the foreign press, which is unrestricted, has undercut occasional government efforts to keep sensitive issues out of the media; once printed in a foreign publication, a story can be circulated freely in Israel and (usually) even reprinted in Hebrew translation by Israeli periodicals.

The intimate scale of Israeli politics should also be taken into account. The exposure of Israeli leaders to their own public is extensive: a prominent Israeli party leader, in or out of government, will spend a large number of hours every week in direct and unrehearsed contact with the public in various forums, all open to media coverage. Those at the very top appear almost nightly on Israeli news programs (watched by a vast majority of the nation), either in live interviews or in films of appearances elsewhere. The average educated Israeli has seen the prominent political figures so often on the screen and in flesh that they see them as acquaintances, if not as members of the family. Certainly the aura of office is eroded to a great extent by this close contact. Members of the public are not inhibited by any sense of awe in dealing with their own leaders; the mystery has been dissipated.

But while political awareness and knowledge were at high levels, participation in the early years was usually limited to verbal expression, as opposed to direct action.There were only a few instances in which a wave of public discontent was strong enough to force the hand of the government, notably in forcing the formation of the National Unity Government on the eve of the 1967 war, and in establishing a commission of inquiry to probe the government’s failings in the Yom Kippur War of 1973. On the whole, however, during the 1948–1977 period Israel ranked about average compared to other nations on indicators of political protest and well below average on indicators of political violence.^[48]

This lack of direct political activity can be attributed to the lack of nonpartisan civic organizations standing outside the system, to the seemingly unchallengeable centralization in Ben-Gurion’s party government, and to the general aura of paternalistic control. Public reaction remained largely verbal because other channels seemed to be of little use. There were danger signals that the Israeli Establishment failed to note or to act upon. Despite (or because of) the high level of political awareness and knowledge, public appraisal of the government’s performance and of the average citizen’s ability to influence it (what political scientists call the “sense of political efficacy”) were both remarkably low. In the comparison to the five nations studied by Almond and Verba in the 1960s, only 5 percent of Israelis thought that the government generally improved conditions, as against 58 to 71 percent in the other cases. Only 27 percent expected equal treatment from the government, fewer than the 32 percent in Mexico and well below the 56 to 89 percent in the other four democratic nations.^[49] In answer to the question “Do people like yourself have an influence on the government?” only 25 percent responded positively in 1960, and only 15 percent in a 1969 survey. In a series of surveys in 1973, the affirmative answers ranged from about a third to less than one-half. Again, the figures were notably higher in other democratic countries.^[50]

Most Israelis still felt that the best way to influence the government was through family or personal connections. The traditional Jewish reliance on connections was entirely consonant with prevailing Middle Eastern practices and with the pragmatic view of officialdom adopted by early settlers; only the fleeting British presence during the Mandatory period presented a model of objective and impartial bureaucracy. It is not surprising, then, to find that Israelis developed a low regard for civil servants as “relatively dishonest, unpleasant, inefficient, passive, slow, and unstable…Israelis find their national bureaucracy and its employees to be undesirable features of the political community.” ^[51]

Underneath the seeming stability, there were signs of a basically confrontational view of politics that was only temporarily submerged. There was a widespread assumption that only direct action, outside the system and in defiance both of established procedures and the law, could actually achieve anything. One of the leaders of the dissident Black Panthers, a group active in the early 1970s, later reported that he had been urged by Establishment figures themselves to act disruptively in order to get attention and “to move things.” Another Black Panther leader, emphasizing the need for street action for lack of a viable option, declared that “we must do things which are illegal but legitimate.” ^[52] Contemporary Israeli Hebrew is rich with phrases that suggest the need and utility of bypassing established procedures and acting directly: “to move things,” “to get by” (l’histader), “to create facts,” “to whistle at (defy) all of them,” “to take matters in hand,” “to get what one has coming,” “to pound on the table,” “to turn tables upside down,” “to make noise,” “to take to the streets.” Even when appearances seemed to indicate otherwise, the traditional attitude of expediency and disrespect toward established authority and procedures remained as a strong undercurrent in Israeli political culture.

This is linked to the long-standing pattern of “illegalism” identified by Ehud Sprinzak. Sprinzak defines this pattern as “an orientation that regards respect for the law and respect for the rule of law not as a basic value, but as a specific mode of behavior that one may or may not follow according to considerations of expediency.” ^[53] Such behavior can be traced back to the Eastern European shtetl but was buttressed by the corrupt practices of the Ottoman system and by the premium put on circumventing British opposition during the Mandatory period. Its expressions include corruption, both personal and political; clientalism (protektsia) and patronage (including the traditional role of the macher, or man of influence, in Jewish life); a general contempt for civil law or other universal norms; ideologies that justify skirting the law (in the name of higher principle, or for “the good of the movement”); and extraparliamentary political methods, including violence.^[54]

Some of these tendencies were curbed or submerged in the Ben-Gurion system; personal corruption was not so visible, and extraparliamentary activity was in temporary eclipse. But as Sprinzak notes, the push for mamlachtiut did not focus on the rule of law and in fact did not even include a legal theory as one of its elements.^[55] There were in fact considerable abuses of power, bordering on corruption, by the parties in power—all in the name of “the good of the movement.” The prevailing ethos was reflected in a letter that Levi Eshkol, then treasurer of the Jewish Agency, wrote to the controller of that agency regarding a case of petty corruption among some of its foreign representatives. Quoting from the Bible (Deuteronomy 25:4), Eshkol admonished the controller that “you shall not muzzle the ox when it treads the grain”—in other words, those working hard for the cause are entitled to some benefits under the table.

Thus the drive for “civicness” did not alter many habits of Jewish political behavior. It did achieve some coherence in government authority and pushed the system, at least temporarily, toward greater centralization and unqualified majority rule. A working parliamentary system was established, dominated by the executive and without separation of powers, and with no written constitution or other limits on parliamentary sovereignty. Local government was subordinated to central control, a dominant party assured coordination of the whole, collective responsibility prevailed in the cabinet, nonparty groups remained relatively weak, and governing coalitions fell short of the kind of “grand coalition” associated with a broad social contract. Thus, despite the elements of consociational democracy that remained, Lijphart classified the Israeli government as only semi-consociational, while Medding maintains that the majoritarian elements were at least temporarily dominant.^[56]

Yet many elements of consociationalism, in the Jewish style, remained in the new state. Proportional representation, with the ubiquitous party key, and mutual veto, especially in religious matters, were central. But above all, there was power-sharing among different centers, obscured for the time being by the dominant role of the same party in these centers. Politics was still pervaded by a bargaining and negotiating style on most key issues.

Thus, even at the peak of mamlachtiut, the intense dialectic between universalist impulses and traditional patterns continued. Particularistic dimensions were submerged but not subdued. Furthermore, with the passage of time came increasing signs of the weakening of both Labor dominance and the civic and majoritarian elements Labor had imposed on the system. “The very establishment of a sovereign state created the potential for [basic themes and orientations latent in earlier periods of Jewish history] to erupt anew, to break through the existing institutional hold, thus generating continual challenges for Israeli society and the political system.” ^[57]

However, this struggle was submerged in turn by an even more forceful reality: preoccupation with security. This overwhelming concern cut across the universalist-particularist tension in various and unexpected ways.

Notes