A new book argues for a religious space without nationalism.
A new book argues for a religious space without nationalism.

OPINIONBooksOctober 21, 2024

Justice as our common cause: What can an Aotearoa Jewish identity look like?

A new book argues for a religious space without nationalism.
A new book argues for a religious space without nationalism.

Marilyn Garson, author of Jewish, Not Zionist, outlines how Aotearoa’s Jewish community can live a full Jewish life without Israel. 

Israel’s advocates have tried for years to cram Jewishness into Zionism. It’s time to unpack these terms: we are Jewish, an ethno-religious group. Israel is a state. Zionism is a nationalism, and a large majority of Zionists are Christian. How large? A group of 65 Christian clergy publish as the Coalition of Ministers Supporting Israel in New Zealand. That’s nearly 11 times the number of Jewish synagogues, and 13 times the number of rabbis in the country.

Aotearoa’s media has generally told just two Jewish stories. Either we are asked to speak as pro- or anti-Zionists; or else antisemitism is used to justify exceptional licence for Israel. The licence granted by that narrative now appears to be endless.

Those two well-rehearsed scripts are equally limiting. They wrongly present broad issues of justice and racism as separate Jewish matters, centred on Israel. The first reduces Palestine and Palestinians to being the voiceless objects of Israel’s actions. The second severs anti-Jewish racism from others’ experience and from our common anti-racist mahi. 

Those narratives leave no space for a fearless, outward-looking Jewish identity; one that is not centred on Israel at all. Can we not live a full Jewish life right here in Aotearoa?

Stories of a revitalised diasporic Jewishness come from New York, London, Berlin and other major northern cities. Justice-oriented Jews walk out of the Zionist-Jewish institutions that denigrate their principles. They explore their Jewish identities in new communities of values. Flourishing Jewish organisations bring ritual into public space, to wrest the symbols of Judaism back from settlers and soldiers. 

Jewish protest surrounding rabbis (wearing prayer shawls) in the Congressional rotunda (Photo: Jewish Voice for Peace)

That’s New York. What happens here? North of the Dunedin Jewish Congregation, what happens when a Jewish person asks, “What will I believe? Everything I have been told? Or the world in front of my eyes? If I am not Zionist, who am I?”

Until very recently, we asked that question at the expense of our communal lives. The effort of forming a Jewish identity that is politically alive and principled – and, for some of us, spiritual – was solitary work. Now we are building organisations to belong to. We have made a religious space not distorted by nationalism. 

I wrote Jewish, not Zionist to tell one story of Aotearoa’s liberatory Jewish community. Far from feeling threatened by the rights of Palestinians, we regard justice as our common cause. We are tangata Tiriti, committing also to the long work of justice at home. 

If not through Zionism, Aotearoa’s media presents the Jewish community through the lens of antisemitism. Repeatedly, reports of protest are diverted by claims of antisemitism. The focus of protest is obscured by personal accusations. It is an act of political misdirection to confuse principled protest with racial hatred. It implies that there is no other motive for upholding the rights of Palestinians.

Furthermore, when the media fails to present the Jewish community more fully, they reduce Jewish identity to victimhood. That is a distortion. We – Jewish New Zealanders – are not Aotearoa’s victims. Here, now, we are not underserved, over-imprisoned, or denied education. We do not tend to be food-insecure and few of us lack shelter. Many of us lead privileged lives. And we are not the people whose whānau are experiencing what the UN’s highest court has called “plausible genocide”. 

We are not victims but we are targets of antisemitism. Distinct from its political use, real anti-Jewish hatred is alive and well. From the far right and malevolent disinformation networks, hardcore antisemitic voices are vigorously seeking to capitalise on widespread anger at Israel. They want to spread the lie that Jewishness is the cause of genocide in Gaza and injustice in Aotearoa – not nationalism or colonialism or imperial power-seeking, but Jews. 

Overwhelmingly, these networks are also Islamophobic: Jews and Muslims are in this together. Aotearoa’s anti-Zionist Jews work alongside our natural antiracist allies to uphold the rights of Palestinians, Muslims, tangata whenua and Jews. Human and political rights are everyone’s rights, or they are nothing.

Even as we struggle with our outrage at Israel’s slaughter of civilians and the betrayals of law and politics, we reject the excuse of racism. We see exploitative structures of power and economy, not ethnicity. We protest against the crimes of genocide, apartheid, collective punishment and starvation – not against Jews, Jewishness or Judaism. Not against Palestinians, Arabs, Muslims or those who are assumed to be Muslim. 

At this moment, being Jewish in public can feel like standing on a very narrow bridge. As Rebbe Nachman of Bratslav wrote, when you stand on a very narrow bridge, the most important thing is not to be afraid. In that spirit, I have written one story to invite the whole anthology of our liberatory, spiritually and politically alive Aotearoa Jewishness.

Please tear up the old scripts and make some space.

Jewish, not Zionist by Marilyn Garson ($30, Left of the Equator Press) will be launched at Unity Books Wellington on October 22 and at Trades Hall, Auckland on October 27.

Keep going!
Maurice Gee. (Photo: Robert Cross)
Maurice Gee. (Photo: Robert Cross)

BooksOctober 19, 2024

‘You can’t kill Jimmy Jaspers!’: An interview with Maurice Gee

Maurice Gee. (Photo: Robert Cross)
Maurice Gee. (Photo: Robert Cross)

Maurice Gee is one of New Zealand’s greatest writers. Now 93, he tackled some of books editor Claire Mabey’s burning questions.

Remember Shy? That dainty, silvery plant in Maurice Gee’s world of O that restored a traveller’s sight from black and white to full colour? Whenever I see a tiny violet now I think, “Shy!”, and wonder if I pick it, sniff it, will it fade in my hands as the world turns neon? Remember bloodcats? And Jimmy Jaspers, and the Woodlanders, and the terrible Otis Claw, and Odo Cling? 

Maurice Gee’s Halfmen of O trilogy had an immense impact on my relationship with the fantasy landscape of Aotearoa. In those books I learned that an abandoned mineshaft in Nelson could transport me to the beautiful, troubled land of O. And it was Maurice Gee’s slim but powerful novel, Under the Mountain, that forever shifted my view of volcanoes, and slugs. How many of us look now at Rangitoto and wonder what the Wilberforces might be up to? Slithering, plotting, rotting the ground beneath our Gee-imagined Auckland. 

And then there was the historical novel set in the Depression, The Fat Man, read aloud to my class at primary school: a story so quietly menacing I couldn’t sleep for trying to feel out inside myself what it was about the story that so threatened my sense of safety. The man was terrifying but more so was Colin Potter’s relentless hunger. The cruelty of the man’s globular spit on the bar of chocolate: I will never scrub the image of that spoiled feast, so desperately needed, from my mind.

I’ve never stopped mulling Maurice Gee’s characters; their fates, the construction of the worlds they find themselves in. The O trilogy set me off on a lifelong thought quest on the nature of false religion (The Priests of Ferris), and the mechanisms of totalitarianism. Gee reminds me always of William Blake in that there is a deep mysticism alive in his work: there are artists (Ellie and the Shadow Man) and visionaries (Rachel in Under the Mountain), and a profound respect for innocence and how it can be corrupted; and how the essential struggle, once that innocence is ruptured, is between wanting to flee and hide, or stay and fight. 

Like Margaret Mahy, Maurice Gee has carved an indelible path in New Zealand literature. He is simply one of New Zealand’s greatest ever writers for both children and adults. Gee’s list of awards is lengthy and weighty but it’s the breadth of the storytelling, and the way his characters and worlds linger, that is the real testament to his talent. Gee’s books resonate across genre, across decades, back and forward through time, across ages: the political and environmental messages of his fantasy fiction (The O Trilogy, Salt, Gool, and The Severed Land) are all too urgent for readers today. 

Maurice Gee was born in 1931 and is now 93 years old. He no longer writes. Rachel Barrowman did the work of collecting the details of Gee’s life story in her thorough biography, Maurice Gee: Life and Work, published by THWUP in 2015. It is an essential guide to Gee’s career as these days, Gee’s memory, he says, is very imperfect: “I just can’t remember many things about my writing career.” He was, however, happy to tackle some of my burning questions. With thanks to Gee’s daughter Emily for facilitating.  

Claire Mabey: How did your process between writing children’s novels and adult novels differ? 

Maurice Gee: For me, the children’s books were more enjoyable to write, whereas the adult novels were more demanding in various ways (although I enjoyed writing them, too).

It was hard work, but enjoyable hard work. Sometimes I got a lovely flow going and could write two pages without realising it. In both children’s and adult fiction that would happen now and then. 

It’s a business of making. Something exists at the end of the day that didn’t exist when I sat down to work. The sense of achievement made all the difficulties worthwhile. 

CM: I’m fascinated by the way you worked between fantasy like The Halfmen of O trilogy, and the historical novels like The Fat Man, and Hostel Girl. Did you have to approach writing fantasy and writing more realistic stories differently? 

MG: I’m sure I did, but I can’t really remember now. Books like Hostel Girl and The Fat Man required research, whereas the fantasies were easier to write because I could let my imagination roam and discover new and interesting things.

CM: I’ve been reading books by David Almond lately and then reading his essays on what inspired his stories: I’m always fascinated when stories begin with just one flash of an idea, or a scene, or a feeling. It made me wonder what inspired The Halfmen of O? And what inspired Under the Mountain (surely one of the most impactful children’s novels in New Zealand, ever).

MG: I can’t really remember now. I think Rachel Barrowman went into this in the biography. With Under the Mountain, I do remember walking to work in the morning and seeing Mt Eden disappear behind the houses, then rise up again, and I remember wondering whether anything was living underneath it.

CM: I’ve read so many different writers’ accounts of their process: some work in an organic way, piecing together a story, or excavating it. Others seem to know everything before they start and carefully plot. What is your process?

MG: I let each story grow organically. I usually had an idea of key scenes and worked my way towards them.

CM: Do you have a favourite or perhaps most memorable character? 

MG: In my children’s fiction, Jimmy Jaspers. I remember I had him fighting with Odo Cling on the edge of Sheer Cliff, a wrestling match, tottering on the edge, and they both went over. When I read that scene to my daughters, they yelled “No! You can’t kill Jimmy Jaspers!” so I had him chuck Odo Cling off instead. 

I thought I had no further use for Jimmy Jaspers, but he’s central to the next two books and I wouldn’t have written those books without him, so it’s just as well he didn’t go over Sheer Cliff! 

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CM: One of my favourite of your adult novels is Ellie and the Shadow Man. I read it when I was perhaps a little too young but the reading experience has stayed with me, very vividly. I understand that the novel is the adult version (if you like) of Hostel Girl, which I also loved. Is that right? 

MG: Ellie and the Shadow Man grew out of Hostel Girl. I wrote Hostel Girl first, and I liked Ailsa so much that I wondered what would happen to her when she grew up. So, I decided to write a novel to find out. I changed her name to Ellie so that I could make any alterations that the new story required. 

CM: So much of your fantasy writing for children is writing against totalitarianism, against the destruction of the environment, and callous disregard for indigenous populations. What inspired those worlds? (I’m thinking of the O series, Salt, Severed Land). 

MG: They were inspired by my strong concerns about those things. Who doesn’t dislike totalitarianism and political oppression? Those beliefs are part of my mental furniture. 

CM: What books that you read as a child awed, enchanted, stayed with you?

MG: Reading Dickens in my teens was the great reading experience of my life. I wanted to be like Dickens. I’m reading A Tale of Two Cities at the moment (in very large print).

CM: How do you feel about your body of work? What do you see when you look over it all? 

MG: I feel a sense of satisfaction and a sense that, considering all things, I’ve done as much and as well as I could have.

I did start writing a new adult novel after Access Road and it wasn’t coming to life for me, so I stopped.