Hard-liner Bezalel Smotrich was just put in charge of Israel’s settlements. Here’s what that means.
(JTA) – Last week, Israeli Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich got one of his longtime wishes: authority over the civilian life of settlers, and some Palestinians, in the West Bank. The role is a chance for Smotrich, a right-wing firebrand and staunch advocate of annexing settlements to Israel, to mold the territory according to his ideology.
In the days following, at least publicly, Smotrich has appeared conflicted over his response to the riots. He liked a tweet calling to “wipe out” the village, then issued his own tweet addressed to his “settler brothers” decrying the rampaging. Then he shared a third set of tweets that endorsed collective punishment — but not through mob violence — and compared the riot to nonviolent protests in Tel Aviv.
On Wednesday, a journalist asked him to explain why he liked the tweet calling for the village to be “wiped out.” “Because I think the village of Huwara should be wiped out, I think that the state of Israel should do it.” A few hours later, he again walked back his statement: “To remove any doubt, in my words I did not mean wiping out the village of Huwara, but rather acting in a targeted way against terrorists and supporters of terror, and exacting a heavy price from them in order to return security to local residents.”
Sunday’s violence points to the contentious issues Smotrich will have to handle in his new role, coping with escalating violence as he and his partners seek to reshape life in the West Bank.
Both Smotrich and his ideological foes are portraying his new job as the harbinger of a sea change in the territory — one that will expand the settlements and make them more entrenched. Meanwhile, the current Israeli government, which includes Smotrich and his far-right allies, has promised to build and recognize more settlements.
“The transfer of civilian authority over the settlements to us, and the beginning of the process of normalizing settlements, are also a great and strategic achievement,” he wrote in the Facebook post on Tuesday. “Even if it takes time to ripen and change the rudder of the ship, it will lead, God willing, to a dramatic change.”
Here’s a rundown of who Smotrich is, what his new job involves, how it fits in with the Israeli government’s settlement plans, and what his limits are.
Who is Bezalel Smotrich, and what job did he just receive?
Smotrich, 43, is himself a settler and has served in Israel’s parliament, the Knesset, for nearly eight years. During that time, he’s been one of the most right-wing lawmakers in Knesset, and has faced blowback for comments denigrating Arab women and the LGBTQ community.
He has also spent years calling for the annexation of settlements and proposing legislation to that effect, to no avail. But his fortunes changed last year, when his party, Religious Zionism, won 14 seats, becoming the Knesset’s third-largest party.
The coalition agreement the party signed in December with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu pledges to give Smotrich authority over civilian life in the settlements. Governing all aspects of civilian life in the settlements is currently the province of Defense Minister Yoav Galant, and he and Smotrich clashed over the past couple of months.
Smotrich made clear he was impatient to assume the new role, and was worried Netanyahu was balking. “Defense minister Galant’s disavowal of the unequivocal agreement, and the prime minister’s foot-dragging on the matter are unacceptable and will not be allowed to continue,” he wrote on Twitter on Feb. 15.
But Netanyahu fulfilled the coalition agreement on Thursday, and in a deal signed by Netanyahu, Smotrich and Galant, Smotrich was handed authority over day-to-day affairs in the settlements. He tweeted that the deal entailed “A holiday for the residents of Judea and Samaria,” the Israeli government’s term for the West Bank.
Does that mean Smotrich is about to annex the settlements to Israel?
But Smotrich is now in charge of life in Area C of the West Bank, which makes up the bulk of the territory. All of the Israeli settlements are in Area C, where Israel has full control over civilian affairs. (The Palestinian Authority governs civilian life in Areas A and B, which comprise 40% of the West Bank and include the majority of the territories’ Palestinians.)
That is why critics of Netanyahu’s government are claiming that an annexation plan is at the heart of Netanyahu’s agreement with Smotrich. Michael Sfard, a prominent Israeli human rights lawyer, wrote that Smotrich is now effectively “the governor of the West Bank,” because he will be able to largely erase legal boundaries between the settlements and Israel’s recognized borders.
“Today the government of Israel has taken an action which entails de jure annexation of the West Bank,” wrote in posts on social media. “Transferring powers to Israeli civilian hands is an act of de jure annexation because it entails removing power from the occupying military and placing it directly in the hands of the government — this is an expression of sovereignty.”
Who’s in charge of Israel’s West Bank policy?
The particulars of the new arrangement in the West Bank, according to the deal signed on Thursday, are complex and a bit confusing. Smotrich is responsible for land use by Israelis and Palestinians in Area C, but it’s not clear if he has authority over Palestinian freedom of movement into and out of the area. His full responsibilities are listed in annexes not made public. The military, meanwhile, retains the authority to evacuate illegally built settlement outposts, though Smotrich may be able to stall that process.
That means it’s not clear who’s on top, except for a provision that makes Netanyahu the arbiter of any disputes between Smotrich and Galant, or Smotrich and the military.
The agreement does pledge to erase divisions between Israel and the Jewish settlements. It says Smotrich will launch an initiative called “Equality of Citizenship” that will “improve and streamline services in Judea and Samaria” through Israeli government ministries — that is, not via the military that has been in charge of such matters for more than half a century.
How is the U.S. responding?
The Biden administration, which has otherwise maintained friendly engagement with Netanyahu’s new government, had reportedly pressured him to renege on the new job for Smotrich. Biden officials found an ally on that issue in Israel’s defense establishment, which also was loath to hand over any degree of control to Smotrich, Axios reported.
And confusion in the chain of command when it comes to dismantling settlements may prompt the Biden administration to intervene, said Daniel Kurtzer, a former U.S. ambassador to Israel.
“The critical issues that we need to look at, they’re happening all over the place, whether it’s the transfer of authority from the Minister of Defense to Minister Smotrich for control over the civil administration, whether it’s the regularization of these outposts or their legalization,” said Kurtzer, who was speaking in a Zoom call last week organized by the Jewish Democratic Council of America.
Criticism also came from Israel’s opposition. Benny Gantz, a former defense minister and IDF chief of staff, tweeted out a confusing flow chart of the new division of responsibilities between Smotrich and Galant.
“This doesn’t look like a chain of command,” he wrote. “This looks like a labyrinth that endangers Israel’s security.”
What’s next?
Smotrich has already said he plans to accelerate the building of Jewish settlements and limit building by Palestinians in Area C. Palestinians say they build without permits in the area because the Israeli authorities rarely grant building permits. That’s unlikely to change now.
On Tuesday, Smotrich pledged that an illegal settlement that has repeatedly been dismantled will be rebuilt and recognized by the government. And his first comment after the agreement was reached was to reiterate his pledge to limit Palestinian rights.
He said, “We will act with determination to stop the illegal Arab takeover of open lands in Judea and Samaria.”
A little‑remembered Gilded Age millionaire helped make milk safe for American kids through his ‘retail giving’
The 1844 edition of the widely used schoolbook written by William H. McGuffey, “Newly Revised Eclectic Fourth Reader,” includes a dialogue about the difference between “true and false philanthropy”:
Mr. Fantom: I despise a narrow field. O for the reign of universal benevolence! I want to make all mankind good and happy.
Mr. Goodman: Dear me! Sure, that must be a wholesale sort of a job: had you not better try your hand at a town or neighborhood first?
As the discussion continues, the lesson becomes clear. Mr. Fantom’s approach is too ambitious to accomplish much, while Mr. Goodman’s, if narrower in scope, was likely to be more useful in practice.
Nathan Straus made his mark in philanthropy after a successful career running the Macy’s department store. Library of Congress Image by
Many of Straus’ contemporary philanthropists were setting lofty goals for their giving. In oil magnate John D. Rockefeller’s case, it was promoting “the welfare of humanity throughout the world.” For steel tycoon Andrew Carnegie, it was “to promote the advancement and diffusion of knowledge and understanding.”
Straus pursued more mundane objectives that included championing milk pasteurization. Although his efforts are not as well known today as those of his more ambitious – and wealthier – counterparts, they accomplished a lot and showed that what might be called “retail giving” can have far-reaching effects.
Successful immigration story
The Straus family came to the United States from Germany in the 1850s during the first big wave of Jewish immigration. Lazarus Straus, Nathan’s father, followed a familiar path for Jewish immigrants at the time, beginning as a peddler and eventually establishing his own store in the small town of Talbotton, Georgia, where the members of his family were the only Jews.
He prospered, became a respected citizen and saw that his children received good educations, including in their religion.
Then the Civil War upended the family’s life, first by reviving antisemitic prejudices and then, eventually, by destroying the family’s business.
Starting anew in New York City, Lazarus and his older sons, Isidor and Nathan, began to sell imported china, glassware and other crockery to retailers in the Northeast and South. One was Rowland H. Macy, who had founded an eponymous store that was on the cutting edge of what Fisher calls a “retailing revolution.”
Macy’s innovations included stocking large inventories of many kinds of merchandise, competitive pricing, extensive advertising and providing a variety of services like public restrooms and a cafeteria to make shoppers’ experiences more pleasurable.
Aided by the rapid urban and economic growth of the late 19th century, the model flourished. Department stores displaced smaller, specialty shops. Other retail powerhouses, such as Bloomingdale’s and Lord & Taylor, soon competed with Macy’s.
The Straus family sold their wares at Macy’s. After Rowland H. Macy died, the Straus family became partners with its new owners. By 1896, the Strauses owned the store outright. And Macy’s was expanding: It bought another department store in Brooklyn and created a flagship building on Manhattan’s Herald Square, which Macy’s still occupies.
The landmark Macy’s department store in New York’s Herald Square opened in 1902 while Nathan and Isidor Straus ran the retailer. Library of Congress Image by
His philanthropy journey begins
While Isidor Straus oversaw the store’s internal operations, Nathan focused on the company’s external activities, such as purchasing, marketing and dealing with government and business leaders.
A third brother, Oscar, pursued a career as a politician and diplomat, eventually becoming secretary of commerce and labor under President Theodore Roosevelt and the first Jewish member of a presidential cabinet. Perhaps inevitably, this led to a series of public appointments for Nathan Straus.
However, as they became wealthier, Nathan and his wife, Lina, increasingly devoted their attention to a series of philanthropic projects.
In 1893, the U.S. entered a four-year economic depression, its worst until the 1930s. As unemployment in New York City rose, Nathan Straus used his merchandising skills to address the needs of the jobless and poor.
He created a number of “depots” near tenements and boarding houses that sold coal, food and fuel at discount prices. Fisher, Straus’ biographer, rightly calls these early examples of what is now known as “social entrepreneurship”: the application of business principles to solving social problems.
Making milk less deadly
As these efforts were getting away, Straus also launched what would become his major preoccupation: promoting pasteurized milk.
In New York City in the early 1890s, Fisher writes, “the annual mortality rate among children under five was about 15 percent,” or 18,000 infants and toddlers per year. A main cause was consuming raw milk, which, unless certified by inspectors, was likely not only to contain a variety of pathogens, such as tuberculosis bacteria, but spoil easily going from farm to table.
Although scientists had long known that heating could make milk safer, doctors and public health officials worried that sterilizing milk might also destroy its valuable nutrients.
Straus, who had lost one of his own children to what he believed was a milk-borne infection, built on his projects for the unemployed by working with New York social service agencies to develop pasteurization plants and infant-milk stations near low-income neighborhoods.
They sold sterilized and refrigerated milk at below-wholesale prices, or donated it to those who could not afford to pay. Businesslike efficiency kept costs low, as did donations. Multilingual ads publicized the product’s availability, doctors and nurses advised parents on child-rearing, and careful recordkeeping aimed at assessing the program’s health benefits.
Straus and his wife devoted much of their time and money to this work. In addition to establishing 297 milk stations in 36 cities, they also spoke and wrote widely about the merits of pasteurization.
By 1908, their efforts paid off when the U.S. Public Health Service endorsed pasteurization and state and local governments began requiring that milk sold in their jurisdictions be pasteurized. Raw milk remained available in many states, and debates over its safety continue to this day.
As a result of this and other Progressive Era measures, New York City’s health commissioner estimated that infant deaths dropped by two-thirds
during the first two decades of the 20th century, with similar declines elsewhere in the country.
The coastal Israeli city of Netanya was named after philanthropist Nathan Straus. Jack Guez/AFP via Getty Images Image by
Other causes
While most of Nathan Straus’ efforts occurred in the U.S., he used his trips to Europe for Macy’s to promote pasteurization on the continent.
During a 1904 visit, he toured the Mediterranean and stopped in Palestine, then part of the Ottoman Empire. Impressed by the early Jewish settlements and holy sites he saw, Straus became an ardent advocate for creating a Jewish homeland in the Middle East, an unusual position for a Jewish businessman of that era, according to Fisher.
On a subsequent trip, a broken leg kept Straus from returning to New York on the maiden voyage of the Titanic; his brother Isidor and sister-in-law Ida were not so fortunate.
In the U.S., Nathan Straus led Zionist organizations, while in Palestine, his chief contributions involved supporting a variety of health care and economic development activities, including Hadassah, the women’s health and community development organization founded by Henrietta Szold.
Nathan Straus’ achievements as a philanthropist are not widely known today because he did not create a grantmaking foundation that outlasted him, as Rockefeller and Carnegie did.
Instead, by the time of his death in 1931, Straus had donated much of his fortune. Fisher writes that Straus used to invoke an old Hebrew proverb: “Money given in health is gold. Money given in sickness is silver. Money given after death is lead.”
He also didn’t donate heavily to the burgeoning network of communal organizations set up to assist the growing population of Jewish immigrants, as did the financiers Jacob Schiff and Felix Warburg, who were also affluent Jewish immigrants from Germany.
As Fisher notes, this pattern of philanthropy resembles that of Straus’ friend – and pallbearer – Julius Rosenwald, the longtime head of Sears, Roebuck and Co. Both supported Jewish causes as well as major initiatives aimed at helping others: In Rosenwald’s case, it was schools for African American children in the South, while for Straus, it was milk pasteurization in New York City and beyond.
During and after World War I, they worked together to assist Jewish refugees in Europe. Fisher might have added that neither Straus nor Rosenwald sought much recognition for their work.
His thorough account should help give Straus the credit he deserves for his philanthropy. It should also show that donors do not have to aspire to “make all mankind good and happy” to make an important difference.
In many ways, Nathan Straus was an old-fashioned do-gooder, responding to the needs he saw with innovative solutions. As a result, he wound up accomplishing a lot of good.
“Emma,” a young Jewish woman who we met in 2019, didn’t belong to a synagogue. She didn’t have a Jewish partner. She didn’t observe Jewish rituals regularly. On most surveys about religion, she would not seem very engaged with Judaism.
But as Emma talked about what she did in her free time, a very different picture began to emerge. She visited Jewish websites and enjoyed listening to Jewish music. She read books about Jewish topics and had recently attended a retreat for young Jewish adults to learn Torah while also doing yoga.
She was highly invested in learning about Judaism, but she explored her identity without joining traditional institutions.
Most major surveys about religion ask whether someone belongs to a congregation, how often they attend services, whether they pray regularly and whether belief is important in their lives. Those measures help identify broad shifts, like the growing percentage of Americans who are religiously unaffiliated: the “nones.”
But many Americans’ religious lives, like Emma’s, are not disappearing; they are moving away from membership of traditional institutions. To understand what religion looks like in 21st-century America, researchers may need to ask different questions.
Learning through art
As scholars of Judaismand education, we have been exploring how people learn about religion beyond traditional places like synagogues, Jewish schools and summer camps. Between 2019 and early 2023, we spoke with hundreds of people and explored different leisure time activities to discover what people learn about Judaism and Jewishness through cultural arts.
We interviewed dozens of audience members at Jewish-themed shows on Broadway, such as “Leopoldstadt”and “Parade.” We attended Jewish concerts and asked attendees what they learned. We explored how social media communities offer spaces to talk about different Jewish topics, like what fans learned about ultra-Orthodox Judaism from watching the television show “Shtisel.”
‘Shtisel,’ an Israeli series about an ultra-Orthodox family in Jerusalem, ran for three seasons.
Our research revealed that there is a vibrant ecosystem of people learning about religion in their leisure time. Through the arts, both Jews and non-Jews encounter Jewish history, Jewish religious practices and representations of Jewish communities.
Screen and stage
Most people we spoke with told us that they felt meaningful connections to Judaism during activities that would rarely appear on a standard religion survey.
“Joan,” an unmarried woman in her 50s from Connecticut, told us that she was deeply invested in Judaism, but felt that synagogues and Jewish community centers were not welcoming to single people without families. Instead of joining a Jewish institution, she watched Jewish-themed TV shows and movies on Netflix, and joined social media communities to chat with other fans.
“Luis,” who lived in Boston but was born in Argentina, was a Sephardic Jew, a group that traces their ancestry and traditions to Jewish communities who once lived in Spain and Portugal. His wife was Ashkenazi, meaning her ancestors came from Central and Eastern Europe. She considered herself secular, and so the couple joined the Worker’s Circle, a nonreligious Ashkenazi institution rather than a synagogue.
Yet Luis loved deepening his knowledge of Sephardic culture, and he often attended concerts of music in Ladino, a Sephardic language related to Spanish, with other Sephardic immigrants.
American singer Sarah Aroeste writes and performs in Ladino.
For Joan and Luis, these activities were not peripheral to their Jewish lives. Rather, they were central avenues for learning and community. We interviewed hundreds of Jews who told us that cultural experiences were opportunities to reflect on Jewish practices, explore questions of belonging, connect with family histories and find friends with common interests.
New questions
Some aspects of these patterns were distinctive to Judaism. Historically, many Jews have understood Judaism to be a cultural world, and not only a theological tradition. Learning about cultural dimensions of Judaism has long been part of Jewish education.
The broader phenomenon of informal learning, though, extended far beyond a single tradition. Across America, increasing numbers of people learn about religion through media, cultural productions and digital networks. Christians may study biblical themes through podcasts, online discussion groups or religious influencers. Muslims may participate in online learning communities that connect believers across the world.
The challenge for religion researchers, then, is not simply to determine whether engagement with religion is rising or falling. Rather, it is to develop more nuanced ways of understanding how people explore religious themes and practices, beyond traditional institutions. Only then can we more fully understand how contemporary Americans actually live their religious lives.
