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A law professor worries Israel could become the next Hungary
(JTA) — Israel’s new governing coalition has been called the “most right-wing” in the nation’s history. That’s heartening to supporters who want the country to get tough on crime and secure Jewish rights to live in the West Bank, and dismaying to critics who see a government bent on denying rights to Israel’s minorities and undermining any hope for a peaceful solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.
While the far-right politics of new government ministers Bezalel Smotrich and Itamar Ben Gvir have drawn much of the world’s attention, a series of proposed changes to Israel’s judicial system has also been raising hopes and alarms. On Wednesday, new Justice Minister Yariv Levin announced an overhaul that would limit the authority of the High Court of Justice, Israel’s Supreme Court. It would put more politicians on the selection committee that picks judges, restrict the High Court’s ability to strike down laws and government decisions and enact an “override clause” enabling the Knesset to rewrite court decisions with a simple majority.
Levin and his supporters on the right justify these changes as a way to restore balance to a system that he says puts too much control in the hands of (lately) left-leaning judges: “We go to the polls, vote, elect, and time after time, people we didn’t elect choose for us. Many sectors of the public look to the judicial system and do not find their voices heard,” he asserted. “That is not democracy.”
Critics of the changes call them a power grab, one that will hand more leverage to the haredi Orthodox parties, remove checks on the settlement movement and limit civil society groups’ ability to litigate on behalf of Israeli minorities.
To help me make sense of the claims on both sides, I turned to Tom Ginsburg of the University of Chicago, where he is the Leo Spitz Distinguished Service Professor of International Law and co-directs the Comparative Constitutions Project, which gathers and analyzes the constitutions of all independent nation-states. He’s also a Jew who has transformed a former synagogue on the South Side of Chicago into a cutting-edge arts space, and says what’s happening with Israel’s new governing coalition “raises my complicated relationship with the country.”
We spoke on Friday. Our conversation has been edited for length and clarity.
Jewish Telegraphic Agency: You have written about law in Israel, which lacks a constitution but relies on a series of “basic laws” to define its fundamental institutions. You’ve written that the Israeli judiciary had become “extremely powerful” — maybe too powerful — in imbuing the basic laws with a constitutional character, but worry that the current reforms will politicize the court in ways that will undermine Israeli democracy.
Tom Ginsburg: The proposed reforms were a campaign promise of certain elements of this coalition who have had longstanding grievances against the Israeli judiciary. The Israeli judiciary over the last decades has indeed become extremely powerful and important in writing or rewriting a constitution for Israel, promoting human rights and serving as a check and balance in a unicameral parliamentary system where the legislature can do anything it wants as a formal matter. A lot of people have had problems with that at the level of theory and practice. So there have been some reforms, and the court has, in my view, cut back on its activism in recent decades and in some sense has been more responsive to the center of the country. But there’s longstanding grievances from the political right, and that’s the context of these proposals.
A lot of the concerns about the new government in Israel are coming from the American Jewish left. But in an American context, the American Jewish left also has a big problem with the United States Supreme Court, because they see it as being too activist on the right. So in some ways isn’t the new Israeli government looking to do what American Jewish liberals dream of doing in this country?
Isn’t that funny? But the context is really different. The basic point is that judicial independence is a really good thing. Judicial accountability is a really good thing. And if you study high courts around the world, as I do, you see that there’s kind of a calibration, a balancing of institutional factors which lead towards more independence or more accountability and sometimes things switch around over time.
Israeli Justice Minister Yariv Levin holds a press conference at the Knesset, the Israeli parliament in Jerusalem, Jan. 4, 2023. (Olivier Fitoussi/Flash90)
You mean “accountability” in the sense that courts should be accountable to the public.
Right. The Israeli promoters of these plans are pointing to the United States, in particular, for the proposals for more political involvement in the appointment process. On the other hand, in the United States once you’re appointed politically, you’re serving for life. There’s literally no check on your power. And so maybe some people think we have too much independence. If these proposals go through in Israel, there will be a front-end politicization of the court [in terms of the selection commission], but also back-end checks on the court [with the override clause that would allow a simple majority to reinstate laws struck down by the Supreme Court]. So in some sense, it moves the pendulum very far away from independence and very much towards accountability to the point of possible politicization.
And accountability in that case is too much of a good thing.
Again, you don’t want courts that can just make up rules. They should be responsive to society. On the other hand, you don’t want judges who are so responsive to society that there’s no protection for the basic rights of unpopular minorities.
What makes Israel either unique or different from some of the other countries you study, and certainly the United States? Part of it, I would guess, is the fact that it does not have a constitution. Is that a useful distinction?
They couldn’t agree on a single written constitution at the outset of the country, but they have built one through what you might call a “common law method”: norms and practices over time as well as the system of “basic laws,” which are passed by an absolute majority of the Knesset, where a majority of 61 votes can change any of those. But while they’re not formally entrenched, they have a kind of political status because of that term: basic law.
By the way, the Germans are in the same boat. The German constitution is called the Basic Law. And it was always meant to be a provisional constitution until they got together and reunified.
If you don’t have a written constitution, what’s the source of the legitimacy of judicial power? What is to prevent a Knesset from just passing literally any law, including ones that violate all kinds of rights, or installing a dictator? It has been political norms. And because Israel has relied on political norms, that means that this current conflict is going to have extremely high stakes for Israeli governance for many decades to come.
Can you give me a couple of examples? What are the high stakes in terms of democratic governance?
First of all, let me just say in principle that I don’t oppose reforms to make the judiciary more independent or accountable in any particular country. But then you obviously have to look at the local context. What’s a little worrying about this particular example is that several members of this coalition are themselves about to be subject to judicial proceedings.
Including the prime minister, Benjamin Netanyahu.
Right. And for example, they need to change the rules so that [Shas Party chairman] Aryeh Deri can sit in the cabinet despite his prior convictions. That indicates to me that maybe this isn’t a good-faith argument about the proper structure of the Israeli, uncodified constitution, but instead a mechanism of expediency.
Any one of these reforms might look okay, and you can find other countries that have done them. The combination, however, renders the judiciary extremely weak. Right now, it’s a multi-stakeholder commission that nominates and appoints judges in Israel, and the new coalition wants to propose that the commission be made up of a majority of politicians. We know that when you change the appointments mechanism to put more politicians on those committees, the more politicized they become.
Think about the United States process of appointing our Supreme Court judges: It’s highly politicized, and obviously the legitimacy of the court has taken a big hit in recent years. In Israel, you’d have politicized appointments under these reforms, but then you also have the ability of the Knesset to override any particular ruling that it wanted. Again, you can find countries which have that. It’s called the “new commonwealth model” of constitutionalism, in which courts don’t have the final say on constitutional matters, and the legislature can overrule them on particular rulings. But I think the combination is very dangerous because you could have a situation where the Knesset — which currently has a role in protecting human rights — can pick out and override specific cases, which really to me goes against the idea of the rule of law.
You mentioned other countries. Are there other countries where these kinds of changes were enacted and we saw how the experiment turned out?
The two most prominent recently are Hungary and Poland, which are not necessarily countries that you want to compare yourself to.
Certainly not if you are Israel.
Right. There’s so much irony here. When the new Polish government came in in 2015, they immediately manipulated the appointment system for the Constitutional Court and appointed their own majority, which then allowed them to pass legislation which probably would have been ruled unconstitutional. They basically set up a system where they were going to replace lower judges and so they were going to grow themselves into a majority of the court. And that’s led to controversy and rulings outside the mainstream that have led to protests, while the European Union is withholding funds and such from Poland because of this manipulation of the court.
In Hungary, Victor Orban was a really radical leader, and when he had a bare majority to change the constitution he wiped out all the previous jurisprudence of the Constitutional Court. I don’t think the Israeli government would do that. But still there is this kind of worrying sense that they’re able to manipulate interpretation of law for their own particular political interest.
Another thing I want to raise is the potential for a constitutional crisis now. Suppose they pass these laws and the Israeli Supreme Court says, “Well, wait a minute, that interferes with our common law rules that we are bound by, going back to the British Mandate.” It conflicts with the basic law and they invoke what legal scholars call the “doctrine of unconstitutional constitutional amendments,” which is basically saying that an amendment goes against the core of our democratic system and violates, for example, Israel’s character as a Jewish and democratic society. Israel has never done this, but it is a kind of tool that one sees deployed around the world in these crises. And if that happened, then I think you would have a full constitutional crisis on your hands in Israel.
Supreme Court President Aharon Barak speaks with Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu during a ceremony in the Supreme Court marking 50 years of law, Sept. 15, 1998. (Avi Ohayon)
What does a constitutional crisis look like?
Suppose you have sitting justices in Israel who say, “You know, this Knesset law violates the basic law and therefore it’s invalid.” And then, would the Knesset try to impeach those judges? Would they cut the budget of the judiciary? Would they back down?
When you compare Israel’s judicial system to other countries’ over the years, how does it stack up? Is it up there among the very strong systems or is it known for flaws that might have maybe hobbled its effectiveness?
It’s always been seen around the world as a very strong judiciary. Under the leadership of Aharon Barak [president of Israel’s Supreme Court from 1995 to 2006] it became extremely activist. And this provoked backlash in Israeli politics. That led to a kind of recalibration of the court where it is still doing its traditional role of defending fundamental rights and ensuring the integrity of the political process, but it’s not making up norms left and right, in the way that it used to. This is my perception. But it’s certainly seen as one of the leading courts around the world, its decisions are cited by others, and because of the quality of the judges and the complex issues that Israel faces it’s seen as a strong court and an effective court and to me a balanced court.
But, you know, I’m not in Israel, and ultimately, they’re going to figure out the question how balanced it is or where it’s going to go. I do worry that an unchecked majoritarian system, especially with a pure proportional representation model like Israel, has the potential for the capture of government by some minorities to wield power against other minorities. And that’s a problem for democracies — to some degree, that’s a problem we face in the United States.
How correctable are these reforms? I am thinking of someone who says, “These are democratically elected representatives who now want to change a system. If you want to change the system, elect your own majority.” Is the ship of state like this really hard to turn around once you go in a certain direction?
This is an area in which I think Israel and the United States have a lot of similarities. For several decades now, the judiciary has been a major issue for those on the political right. They thought the Warren Court was too left-leaning and they started the Federalist Society to create a whole cadre of people to staff the courts. They’ve done that and now the federal courts are certainly much more conservative than the country probably. But the left didn’t really have a theory of judicial power in the United States. And I think that’s kind of true in Israel: It’s a big issue for the political right, but the political left, besides just being not very cohesive at the moment, isn’t able to articulate what’s good about having an independent judiciary. It is correctable in theory, but that would require the rule of law to become a politically salient issue, which it generally isn’t in that many countries.
How do you relate to what is happening in Israel as a Jew, and not just a legal scholar?
That’s a great question, because it really raises my complicated relationship with the country. You know, I find it to be a very interesting democracy. I like going to Israel because it’s a society in which there’s a lot of argument, a lot of good court cases and a lot of good legal scholars. On one level, I connect with my colleagues and friends there who seem very demoralized about this current moment. And I honestly worry about whether this society will remain a Jewish and democratic one with the current coalition.
The rule of law is a part of democracy. You need the rule of law in order to have democracy function. And I know others would respond and say, “Oh, you’re just being hysterical.” And, “This isn’t Sweden, it’s the Middle East.” But the ethno-nationalist direction of the country bothers me as a Jew, and I hope that the court remains there to prevent it from deepening further.
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Trump may endorse Netanyahu. But loving Israel is not the same as loving Bibi.
President Donald Trump has raised the possibility of endorsing a candidate in Israel’s Oct. 27 election.
“I may be doing something,” he said when asked about it this week.
He did not say whom he might support, although his history with Benjamin Netanyahu makes the prime minister seemingly the likely possibility. I am here to urge him to think again, because the distinction between supporting Netanyahu and supporting Israel is no longer possible to ignore.
Trump is remarkably popular in Israel, where many believe he genuinely loves their country and its people. His recognition of Jerusalem as Israel’s capital, his support for Israeli security, his willingness to go to war against Iran and his manifest indifference to the global Palestinian propaganda machine have persuaded many that he is personally invested in Israel’s future. Netanyahu has turned that into a political asset, encouraging the impression that his personal relationship with Trump is the reason.
And it works. Some Israelis see Netanyahu more favorably because they believe Trump does. An endorsement would matter, and so would its absence. On March 25, 2019, Trump recognized Israeli sovereignty over the Golan Heights, two weeks before an Israeli election. Widely interpreted as a political gift, it reinforced Netanyahu’s claim that he alone could deliver extraordinary concessions from Washington. It helped Netanyahu cling to power (barely), and he returned the favor, all-but-directly endorsing Trump’s reelection a year later.
In principle, American presidents should stay out of other democracies’ elections. But such niceties, alas, belong to another era. Trump has interfered openly in elections in Hungary and Poland, attempting to elevate local right-wing populists. Expecting diplomatic restraint now is absurd. So a better question is simply whether he can be pried loose of Netanyahu, for the sake of Israel.
The election could hardly be more crucial. I believe it will determine whether Israel remains a prosperous, functioning democracy or continues down a path of institutional deterioration, international isolation and economic decline.
Netanyahu’s supporters credit him with confronting Iran’s Islamic Republic regime, Hezbollah and Hamas. But he has eliminated none of them, and his record includes the catastrophic security failure of Oct. 7, years of political polarization, attempts to weaken judicial independence and a coalition elevating some of the country’s most extreme political forces.
Netanyahu remains on trial for corruption, charges he denies. Critics point also to extravagant public spending associated with his personal lifestyle. The larger indictment, however, is not personal: his dependence on narrow coalition interests has made essential national reforms virtually impossible.
Any Netanyahu-led coalition – unless the opposition joins him – would depend again on far-right parties insisting on settlement activity deep in the West Bank – an issue causing considerable agitation in the United States — and protecting Jewish radicals who terrorize Palestinians there. That already led to deaths and risks sparking a third Palestinian intifada, according to Israel security officials. Trump, who prides himself on supposedly having ended eight wars, cannot be very happy with that.
No less consequential is Netanyahu’s dependence on ultra-Orthodox, or Haredi, parties.
Israel has long tolerated an arrangement under which the vast majority of Haredi men avoid military service, while many receive state support for religious study and emerge from schools that do not teach the mathematics, English and science required for a modern economy. This is unsustainable in a country whose security depends on a heavily burdened military and whose prosperity depends on a highly educated workforce.
The demographic implications are staggering. Haredim already constitute roughly one-sixth of Israel’s population, and their share is projected to grow dramatically, with birthrates approaching six children per family and sustained heavily by welfare. Unless employment, education and military-service patterns change, a shrinking proportion of Israelis will shoulder an ever-growing share of the tax burden, military service and economic productivity.
Even during three years of war – as other Israeli reservists served hundreds of days a year in Gaza and Lebanon – Haredi youth demonstrated with signs declaring: “We’d rather die than serve.” Outrage over this arrangement is boiling over across Israel and badly hurting Netanyahu, who is far behind in the polls.
Netanyahu cannot seriously reform the system because his survival depends on Haredi parties that make military exemptions, religious-school funding and sectarian privileges conditions of coalition participation.
The explosive growth of this community, absent reforms, will turn Israel into a hyper-religious country, risking the departure of the educated, modern and secular classes that account, overwhelmingly, for its prosperity. Internationally mobile, many are already disillusioned by the country’s political direction, repeated military service and an ever-heavier economic burden. It is a national emergency.
Israel must restore confidence in democratic institutions, address the consequences of the Gaza war, confront violent extremism in the West Bank, repair international relationships and establish a sustainable regional strategy. Another Netanyahu government would deepen the crisis in all of them.
Trump, if he loves Israel, cannot possibly love this direction of travel. His son-in-law Jared Kushner most assuredly would not.
There is a serious alternative. Gadi Eisenkot, a former chief of staff of the Israel Defense Forces, has emerged as a leading opposition figure. He lost his son Gal in combat in Gaza in December 2023 and has a reputation for personal integrity, seriousness and directness. His party is called Yashar, meaning straight or upright, a pointed contrast with the political culture of Netanyahu’s rule.
Sure, replacing Netanyahu would not automatically solve Israel’s problems. But an opposition government not dependent on Haredi parties could introduce universal service obligations, require a genuine core curriculum in publicly funded schools, restructure subsidies and redirect resources toward education, infrastructure and economic participation.
There is a chance that Netanyahu’s opponents may win more seats collectively without a comfortable governing majority. A narrow coalition could depend on parties with conflicting positions; Arab parties are legitimate democratic participants, but agreement on security and national policy would be challenging.
A Trump assist that enables Bibi to cut into his opponents’ lead would make that scenario more likely and diminish the chances for a more stable majority that could act decisively to save the country.
Trump likes to point to everything he has done for Israel: Jerusalem, the Golan Heights, the Abraham Accords and regional diplomacy. Many Israelis appreciate those achievements. But the country’s greatest danger may lie not only in the enemies surrounding it, but in the structural weaknesses accumulating within.
The question is whether Trump can distinguish the country’s long-term interests from the fortunes of a man he has repeatedly supported.
And there is one more thing. Trump likes winners. So much so that he once impugned Sen. John McCain’s Vietnam-era record of heroics, by actually saying: “I like people that weren’t captured.” Well, Netanyahu is so far behind in the polls, and with such overpoweringly good reason, that he is looking like a loser.
Continued association will not help the brand.
The post Trump may endorse Netanyahu. But loving Israel is not the same as loving Bibi. appeared first on The Forward.
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‘Sefer Elijah’ — probably the oldest proto-Ashkenazi text
ס׳איז מעגלעך, אַז מיר האָט זיך אײַנגעגעבן צו אַנטדעקן דעם עלטסטן פּראָטאָ־אַשכּנזישן טעקסט, אָנגעשריבן אינעם פֿריִיִקן 9טן יאָרהונדערט. דאָס איז דער אוראַלטער אַפּאָקאַליפּטישער מדרש „ספֿר אליהו‟, אַ ספֿר וואָס איז מיר שוין לאַנג גוט באַקאַנט.
געשען איז עס אַזוי: ווען איך בין ערשט אָנגעקומען קיין אַמעריקע אין 1998 — אין וויליאַמסבורג — האָב איך זיך אַ דריי געטאָן אין די אָרטיקע ביכער־קראָמען און געקויפֿט די גאָר אינטערעסאַנטע מדרש־זאַמלונג „ילקוט הרועים‟, באַגלייט מיט גלענצנדיקע הסכּמות (רבנישע באַשטעטיקונגען), אַז דער ספֿר איז אָנגענומען ווי אַ הייליקער, אַרײַנגערעכנט אַ רעקאָמענדאַציע פֿון דעם דעמאָלטיקן סאַטמאַרער רבין משה טייטלבוים זצ״ל.
די זאַמלונג באַשטייט על־פּי־רובֿ פֿון טיפֿע קבלה־טעקסטן און עטלעכע אַפּאָקאַליפּטישע מדרשים וועגן דעם קץ־הימים — דעם סוף פֿון די טעג, די צײַט וואָס משיח דאַרף קומען — בתוכם דעם „ספֿר אליהו‟. אָט דער ספֿר און נאָך עטלעכע אין דער דאָזיקער זאַמלונג שילדערן די ביאת־המשיח נישט ווי אַ פּלוצעמדיקן גליקלעכן סוף פֿון אַלע ליידן אין דער וועלט, נאָר ווי אַ שרעקלעכן פּראָצעס, באַגלייט מיט חורבֿות און שוידערס. נישט נאָר בײַ די קריסטן איז פֿאַראַן אַזאַ מין ליטעראַטור. בקיצור, שטייט אינעם „ספֿר אליהו‟ געשריבן, אַז ווען משיח וועט קומען, וועט ער צונויפֿברענגען אַלע צדיקים — בסך־הכּל 30 טויזנט — אין אַ הימליש אָרט ווײַט פֿון אונדזער ערד, וועלכע וועט פֿאַרברענט ווערן מיט אַלע אירע איבעריקע זינדיקע תּושבֿים.
די אמונה, אַז דער נײַער משיחישער צוקונפֿטיקער ירושלים וועט אַראָפּקומען פֿונעם הימל און אַז די שטאָט האָט ווייניק צו טאָן מיט דער הײַנטיקער ירשולים, איז אַמאָל געווען אַבסאָלוט נאָרמאַל בײַ ייִדן, בפֿרט אין דער אַשכּנזישער וועלט. רש״י האָט, למשל, אויך אַזוי געגלייבט. אין דער שפּעטערדיקער צײַט האָט הרבֿ צבֿי־הירש קײַדאַנאָווער, דער מחבר פֿונעם פּאָפּולערן מוסר־ספֿר „קבֿ הישר‟, וועלכן ער האָט אַליין איבערגעזעצט פֿון לשון־קודש אויף ייִדיש, אַזוי געשריבן אינעם פֿריִיִקן 18טן יאָרהונדערט.
דער „ספֿר אליהו‟ בלײַבט כּמעט אומגעפֿאָרשט. הלל ניומאַן, אַ היסטאָריקער פֿונעם חיפֿהר אוניווערסיטעט, האָט באַמערקט, אַז דער דאָזיקער מדרש קלינגט ענלעך אויף דער קריסטלעכער אַפּאָקאַליפּטישער ליטעראַטור. עטלעכע אַנדערע פֿאָרשער האַלטן, אַז ס׳איז אָנגעשריבן געוואָרן בײַם אָנהייב פֿון דער איסלאַמישער תּקופֿה. לאָמיר זיך אָבער אַרײַנקוקן אין געוויסע פּרטים, וואָס די פֿאָרשער האָבן פֿאַרקוקט — און וואָס איך האָב אַליין ערשט באַמערקט נישט לאַנג צוריק.
אין אַ סך מדרשים ווערט דערמאָנט דער אַנטי־משיח מיטן נאָמען אַרמילוס. אין „ספֿר אליהו‟ ווערט אָבער זײַן נאָמען אויסגעלייגט ווי „הרמלת‟. ווײַזט אויס, אַז בײַ דעם מחבר האָט אַ תוו געקלונגען ווי אַ סמך, און דער הא איז בײַ אים געווען שטום. דעם נאָמען פֿונעם פּערסישן מלך אַרתּחשסתּא שרײַבט ער אויך ווי „הרתּחשסתּא‟. עס ווערט דערמאָנט עפּעס אַ ים־מאָנסטער — „גיגית‟; ווײַזט אויס, מיינט עס gigas אויף לאַטײַניש, אַ ריז. אַזאַ אַרויסרייד האָט געקאָנט נאָר זײַן בײַ פּראָטאָ־אַשכּנזים, וועלכע האָבן גערעדט אויף אַלט־פֿראַנצויזיש (צי, מעגלעך, אויף עפּעס אַ געמישטן דיאַלעקט, וווּ קיין הא־קלאַנג איז נישט געווען).
אינעם דאָזיקן מדרש שטייט געשריבן, אין געוויסע ווערסיעס, אַז די מלחמות פֿאַר דער ביאת־המשיח וועלן אָנהייבן די מלכים קוסטנטנוס און קרטילוס. אַזוי שטייט אין יהודה אבֿן־שמואלס (יהודה קויפֿמאַנס) זאַמלונג „מדרשי גאולה‟. אינעם חסידישן ספֿר, וואָס איך האָב, ווערט דערמאָנט נאָר „קירטלוס‟. ס׳איז קלאָר, מיין איך, אַז דאָ גייט די רייד וועגן דעם ביזאַנטישן מלך קאָנסטאַנטין דעם זעקסטן, מיט וועלכן קאַרל דער גרויסער האָט געוואָלט זיך מזווג זײַן, כּדי צו שאַפֿן אַ פֿאַראייניקט וועלט־מלכות, דורכן זיווג מיט קאָנסטאַנטיס מאַמע אירענע. קאָנסטאַנטינען האָט מען געשדכנט מיט קאַרלס טאָכטער ראָטרודע. אויב די דאָזיקע שידוכים וואָלטן געלונגען, וואָלט דעמאָלט אויפֿגעשטאַנען אַ נײַע גלאָבאַלע רוימישע אימפּעריע. קאַרל דער גרויסער האָט זיך אָבער סײַ־ווי־סײַ געהאַלטן פֿאַר אַ נײַעם רוימישן אימפּעראַטאָר. דער פּויפּסט לעאָן דער דריטער האָט אים געקרוינט מיט אַזאַ טיטל אין יאָר 800.
הגם קאַרל דער גרויסער האָט דערלויבט ייִדן צו וווינען אין זײַן קיניגרײַך און פֿאַרפֿלאַנצט דערמיט דאָס קערנדל פֿון דער אַשכּנזישער ציוויליזאַציע, ווערט אין אַ סך אַלטע מדרשים פֿאָרויסגעזאָגט, אַז די חבֿלי־המשיח, די צרות פֿאַר משיחס קומען, וועלן זײַן פֿאַרבונדן מיט רוים; דערפֿאַר האָבן ייִדן אויפֿגענומען זײַן אימפּעריע ווי אַ סימן פֿון אַפּאָקאַליפּטיש־משיחישע געשעענישן.
קאָנסטאַנטין דער זעקסטער איז געשטאָרבן בערך אין 805 (לויט אַנדערע קוואַלן אין 797) און קאַרל דער גרויסער — אין 814. באַקומט זיך, אַז דער „ספֿר־אליהו‟ מוז געהערן צו דער תּקופֿה, ווען זיי האָבן ביידע נאָך געלעבט.
וואָס עפּעס „קרטילוס‟? פֿאַרוואָס איז קאַרלס נאָמען אין אונדזער ספֿר אַזוי פֿאַרקריפּלט געוואָרן? ס׳קען זײַן, אַז אין זײַן אייגן לאַנד וואָלט געווען וויכטיק אויסצובאַהאַלטן זײַן נאָמען, די קריסטן זאָלן נישט וויסן, אַז בײַ ייִדן גייט אַרום אַזאַ געהיימער קלאַנג, אַז דער קיניג וועט מיט זײַנע מלחמות גורם זײַן די ייִדישע גאולה. מע קען זיך אַפֿילו משער זײַן, פֿאַרוואָס מע האָט אויסגענוצט אַזאַ שיפֿער: די אותיות טית און יוד קאָנען זײַן ראָשי־תּיבֿות פֿון זײַן טיטל imperator terrae.
ס’איז וויכטיק צוצוגעבן, אַז געוויסע קריסטלעכע שרײַבער האָבן געגלייבט, אַז קאַרל דער גרויסער וועט זיך אומקערן איידער יעזוס וועט זיך באַווײַזן צום צווייטן מאָל. אַזוי האָט געשריבן אינעם 11טן יאָרהונדערט דער מאָנאַך אַדעמאַר פֿון לימאָזש, פֿראַנקרײַך. אויב אַ טייל ייִדן האָבן געגלייבט אין עפּעס ענלעכס, וואָלט מען געקאָנט פֿאַרשרײַבן דעם „ספֿר אליהו‟ נאָכן טויט פֿון קאַרל דעם גרויסן.
ואַחרון אַחרון חבֿיבֿ, דער סטיל פֿונעם „ספֿר אליהו‟ איז וווּנדערלעך ענלעך אויף דער אַלט־בײַערישער אַפּאָקאַליפּטישער פּאָעמע Muspilli, פֿונעם 9טן יאָרהונדערט, וווּ דער הויפּטהעלד איז אויך אליהו הנבֿיא. עטלעכע שטיקלעך פֿון ביידע טעקסטן קלינגען כּמעט אידענטיש. ווײַזט אויס, אַז אונדזער מדרש געהערט טאַקע צו דער תּקופֿה פֿון קאַרל דעם גרויסן — צי, אפֿשר, מיט אַ דור־צוויי שפּעטער — ווען אַפּאָקאַליפּטישע געדאַנקען זענען געווען פֿאַרשפּרייט אויך בײַ די קריסטן.
דער אימאַזש, אַז דער אייבערשטער וועט אַוועקטראָגן די צדיקים אין עפּעס אַ הימלישער וועלט, ווען די גאַנצע ערד וועט ברענען, קלינגט ממש ווי דער גערמאַנישער מיטאָס וועגן דעם ראַגנאַריאָק, דעם סוף פֿון דער וועלט, אָפּגעשפּיגלט אויך אין Muspilli.
באַקומט זיך, אַז ייִדן אין דײַטשלאַנד האָבן נאָך מיט 1200 יאָר צוריק אַרויסגערעדט דעם תוו ווי „ס‟. צי האָבן אַ טייל פֿון זיי דעמאָלט שוין גערעדט אויף דײַטשיש, נישט אַלט־פֿראַנצויזיש? אין 838 האָט דער פֿראַנקישער גלח באָדאָ זיך מגייר געווען; זײַן ייִדישער נאָמען איז געווען אליעזר. ער האָט געדינט אינעם הויף פֿון קאַרלס זון לויִס דעם ערלעכן. ווײַזט אויס, אַז אַרום יענעם דײַטשיש־רעדנדיקן גלח איז שוין געווען בנימצא אַ גענוג גרויסע ייִדישע סבֿיבֿה, וועלכע האָט משפּיע געווען אויף זײַן באַשלוס צו ווערן אַ ייִד. אויף וועלכער שפּראַך זיי האָבן גערעדט, ווייסן מיר נישט גענוי, צום באַדויערן.
דער „ספֿר אליהו‟ איז, ווײַזט אויס, דער עלטסטער אָפּגעהיטער פּראָטאָ־אַשכּנזישער קוואַל. ביזן 11טן יאָרהונדערט איז אין ארץ־אַשכּנז בכלל נישט געווען באַקאַנט די גמרא. ווי מע זעט פֿון די אַשכּנזישע ספֿרים, אַז אַפֿילו שפּעטער זענען בײַ מיסטיש־געשטימטע דײַטשישע ייִדן געווען גאָר וויכטיק — אפֿשר, נאָך וויכטיקער ווי די גמרא — פֿאָלק־מעשׂיות, שפּרוכן און סגולות, וכּדומה. אַז זיי האָבן געשילדערט די ביאת־המשיח ווי אַ כּמו־קריסטלעך אַפּאָקאַליפּטיש געשעעניש, אויסגעמישט מיט אימאַזשן פֿון גערמאַנישער מיטאָלאָגיע, איז נישט קיין גרויסער חידוש. דער דײַטשישער פֿאָלקלאָר פֿאַרנעמט אַ גרויס אָרט אין דער אַלט־ייִדישער ליטעראַטור, ווי אויך, ווייניקער, אין ערנסטע ספֿרים. אַז אַזאַ קולטור־סינטעז האָט זיך שוין אָנגעהויבן אינעם 9טן יאָרהונדערט איז אָבער יאָ אַ חידוש.
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Roy Lichtenstein was far more than just a copyist, Roy Lichtenstein was far more than just a copyist
It’s easy to understand why the new Roy Lichtenstein exhibit at the Whitney Museum foregrounds the issue of copying, even to the extent of embracing it. Lichtenstein was — as his “Image Duplicator” from 1963 (included prominently here) shows — a constant and avowed copier. That’s by no means all he did, but he was famous for taking comic book art and making it epic. The issue was publicly and recently revisited by James L. Hussey and Jesse Finley Reed in their 2023 documentary Whaam! Blam! Roy Lichtenstein and the Art of Appropriation, in which researcher David Barsalou found hundreds of images which Lichtenstein used as source material.
Just for the sake of an in-your-face example of duplication, the Whitney owns the study for his massive 1964 World’s Fair mural “Girl in Window.” In addition to displaying that image in the exhibition gallery, the museum has mounted a spectacular replica of it on the outside of the building that is almost twice the size of the original. The 32-foot reproduction demonstrates the radical difference in scale between a comic panel and the monumental installation. It also has the effect of encouraging tourists on the High Line to visit “Roy Lichtenstein: Like New.”
The copying doesn’t stop there, it goes on and on. The most striking of the several works in the exhibition that were inspired by Lichtenstein’s practice comes from artist Alex Da Corte (also one of the curators). His large outside artwork “Hot Dog With Ketchup” traces directly back to Lichtenstein’s much smaller 1964 “Hot Dog.” Though the other work is smaller and located inside, Da Corte’s benefits from size, color, condiment, and location — his work sits opposite the hot dog vendors that cater to Whitney visitors and High Line walkers.
What the Whitney doesn’t mention, in its consideration of Lichtenstein’s art in the era of AI appropriation and TikTok culture, is that the mid-20th century was a time when people were already worried about copies. Jews and antisemites especially were extremely concerned with what it meant to take one thing and reproduce it. The question of mass production, reproduction and art had reached America as early as in 1917, when Marcel Duchamp took a mass-produced urinal and submitted it upside-down for a show in New York as “Fountain.”
That was already about a decade after the antisemitic Austrian politician Hermann Bielohlawek — a member of the Vienna City Council and ally of the Nazi-forerunner Karl Lueger — said “Culture is what a Jew copies from another.” (“Kultur ist was ein Jud’ von anderen abschreibt,” as quoted in David Nirenberg’s Anti-Judaism: The Western Tradition.) Once the slow trickle of emancipation legislation acknowledged that Jews should have the same rights as other citizens and were legally part of the European body politic, racist cultural arbiters were invested in disallowing them from European culture as an ersatz people just copying “real” Europeans.
So, yes, Lichtenstein owes a lot of his understanding of perception and practice to his professor Hoyt L. Sherman and the Flash Lab at Ohio State University, but the idea of aping and shaping culture from ready-made images is a larger topic. Perhaps too, it was a topic for which America — not immured in canonical European Christian art — had a specific role to play. When I arrived in the country late in the last millennium I was amazed that cooking recipes listed ready-made ingredients like cans of mushroom soup. But maybe there’s a liberation in that.
By Duchamp’s time, culture had crashed through the walls of decorum, but in the generations between him and Lichtenstein, technology had also moved on. While Lichtenstein was at grade school on 89th Street on the Upper West Side, Walter Benjamin was writing his prescient, seminal 1935 essay “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproducibility,” which discusses, among other things, how contemporary image reproduction undermines the almost religious nature of art: Viewing a postcard of the Mona Lisa is not the same as experiencing it in person.
By taking ready-made images of everyday life from tins, comics, or — in one particularly heavy-handed instance — from Erle Loran’s book Cezanne’s Composition and pulling them back into the realm of art, Lichtenstein was joining an established conversation in parallel with the other preeminent Pop Artist, Andy Warhol. But, unless you are on the 7th floor where the museum is displaying Family Album, a small Warhol show, don’t mention that other “W” word at the Whitney this fall: The museum has gone big for this show. “Like New” is the first New York Lichtenstein retrospective it over 30 years, it is his centenary show (though three years late because of COVID), and Roy is the hometown hero, so gentrified downtown is all “L” all the time.
The closest the exhibition comes to including Warhol is displaying “Laughing Cat,” a 1961 painting that Lichtenstein included in a trade (with other art) for portrait commissions from his Pittsburgh peer in 1975. Little seen in the past 50 years, Lichtenstein’s “Laughing Cat” sits next to “Engagement Ring: just as it did in his breakthrough 1962 show at the Leo Castelli Gallery. At the press presentation, curators Da Corte and Meg Onli expressed their appropriate pride at recreating that show in a room inset into the spacious Whitney galleries.
It’s both breathtaking to be taken back to 1962 and also retro fun. Though it’s an actual reproduction of the gallery, the reproduced studio is radically different from the original, not just because it’s 64 years on and this time the setting is a museum, rather than a for-profit art gallery. But also, relatedly, because these pieces of art are not new but proven, even iconic. It’s worth comparing the Castelli Gallery to The Cavern where — at almost the same time as that show — four young Liverpudlians were working out the kinks in “Love Me Do,” one of their first songs fashioned from the chords of the American rock and R&B covers they loved.
Is any of this “Like New” as the title of the exhibition would have it? Certainly not in the sense that nothing in seeing this massive and beautifully spaced retrospective is like seeing the work as it was freshly made. Even the inclusion of four just-painted life-size murals, beginning with the bright, audacious Greene Street mural as you enter the exhibit does not make it “like new.”
However, the title works in the intended sense that Lichtenstein made existing things seem “like new.” He took ready-made images and techniques from the market and the culture around him and — to use the word coined by Viktor Shklovsky in the decade before Lichtenstein’s birth — “defamiliarized” them. So, in the sense that both Lichtenstein and the curators are presenting common, everyday, iconic things in an unfamiliar or strange way — yes.
The issue of copying is, to my mind, relatively trivial. AI has effectively stolen all the words and images that have ever been made without any compensation for the creators while using those words and images in exactly the same way that the creators intended them. Lichtenstein transformed the work he found.
In its review of Hussey and Reed’s film, the Guardian quoted Michael Daley, a cartoonist, talking about the feelings of those artists whose images Lichtenstein used: “Comic book artists are rightly aggrieved. Aside from outright plagiarisms, technically and artistically, they are generally far better draughtsmen than Lichtenstein.” But the review goes on to cite the authoritative answer of Bradford R Collins, author of Pop Art and professor of art history at the University of South Carolina. He defended Lichtenstein: “It’s not plagiarism. It’s appropriation,” he wrote. “With plagiarism, you’re stealing somebody’s work and using it for the same purpose they did. If Lichtenstein made comic books out of it, that would be stealing. But appropriation means you’re taking something and reusing it for a very different purpose, taking something out of a comic book and making it into a painting….I can understand why [Hy] Eisman [another cartoonist] would feel angry. I would feel the same way. But artistically, it’s not plagiarism.”
What’s perhaps more interesting about this is what came out of the experiment? What is of worth and what is of value? By taking us from the source material to an incredible array of Lichtenstein’s art, to art that uses Lichtenstein himself as a starting point, the curators give us space to ask those questions. They have seriously and playfully recreated the Castelli gallery, presented an Artist’s Studio (riffing off Lichtenstein’s series of the same name, itself an homage to Henri Matisse’s l’Atelier Rouge), dedicated an entire room to Lichtenstein’s only movie (Three Landscapes), an oval space to his Mirror series, and a large wall to his Rouen cathedral series that made Claude Monet pop in many senses of the term. They have stunningly displayed “Sunrise” (1965) in front of a vast window where the sun sets into the Hudson.
For my part, I don’t particularly consider Lichtenstein one of the true Greats. And, not least because of its tendency to drift into the spectacular or decorative, Pop Art often seems to lack substance. But that’s a matter of taste. I thoroughly enjoyed my 90 minutes at ‘Like New’ and, for the next seven months at least, can’t imagine a better place to go and argue about the significance of 20th century art.
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