(Bloomberg Opinion) -- Almost every country in the world is experiencing some degree of social conflict in the fight against corona. The issues are familiar: Masks, yes or no. Restaurants, open or closed. Schooling, in the classroom or online.
Israel has these conflicts too. But, as the world’s only Jewish state, it faces a unique problem. A large and powerful sector of the ultra-orthodox community is unwilling to comply with the rules of national public health authorities.
This is a public health problem to be sure, as Israel is in the throes of a serious second wave of virus cases. But it is, at bottom, also part of an ongoing struggle by political rabbis to assert their authority over the democratic institutions of the state.
The current battlefield is Uman, an obscure small city in central Ukraine which happens to be the burial place of a venerated 18th century Hasidic rabbi, Nachman of Uman. For centuries, he rested in peace. But in the 1990s, a cult of veneration developed around his teachings.
His followers, many recent converts to Hasidic Judaism, have initiated an annual pilgrimage to the grave site that has over the years, become a mass event. Tens of thousands of fervent Israeli adherents leave their families at home and travel to Uman for two weeks of worship, which includes ecstatic singing and dancing and a fair amount of revelry. What happens in Uman stays in Uman.
This year is different because of the pandemic. Ukraine is a coronavirus hot spot. Pilgrims live eight or more to a room, eat in communal dining rooms, pray shoulder to shoulder and share flights. It is a recipe for disaster.
Professor Ronni Gamzu, the recently appointed government coronavirus czar, is afraid that this year, what happens in Uman will not stay there. It will wash over the country in a wave of infection serious illness. (Israel would presumably require the returnees to quarantine, but they are not likely to respect that and the virus could easily spread among households to the wider community given close-quartered living there.)
For weeks, Gamzu and other medical experts have tried to explain this to the organizers of Uman and the ministers of the Israeli government. The former believe that God will protect them. The latter have kicked the can down the road for political reasons. As a last resort, Gamzu wrote directly to the president of Ukraine, Volodymyr Zelenskiy -- who happens to be Jewish -- to ask for his help. “I believe the health and safety of the Ukrainian and Israeli populations should take precedence,” he wrote. “I urge you to enforce a ban on these celebrations this year.”
Rabbi Yaakov Litzman, the former minister of health and representative of ultra-orthodox voters in the ruling coalition, has demanded Professor Gamzu’s resignation. Prime Minister Netanyahu, who publicly vested Gamzu with vast power to fight the coronavirus just a month ago, is the ultimate decider. So far, he has remained silent.
That call should be easy. Israel has one of the highest per capita rates of Covid-19 among OECD countries. Its economy has been badly damaged. Another full shutdown could reverse the economic gains of the last 20 years.
Gamzu, the health ministry and virtually every coronavirus expert in the country believe that the only way to avoid this is to impose targeted shutdowns on cities and neighborhoods with extremely high levels of the Covid-19. Under his plan, such areas would be designated as red-light zones. Many of these are populated primarily by members of the ultra-orthodox community. Litzman and like-minded legislators have stalled the plan for weeks.
The ultra-orthodox lifestyle — very large families crowded into small apartments, self-imposed poverty and an educational system that limits outdoor time — is responsible for this disparity. But so is the rebellious attitude of some community leaders.
In early August, a Hasidic leader held a 2,000-guest wedding for his grandson in Jerusalem. It precipitated an outcry in the general public. The rabbi’s response was dismissive. Through a spokesman he said he considered “the spiritual damage caused to his followers to be much greater than any risk to their physical health.” The effect on the rest of the country didn’t even register.
The Jewish high holy days season begins in the middle of September and lasts for about three weeks. Synagogues are normally packed during this time, and services can last for hours. Gamzu and the Ministry of Health aim to restrict the number of worshipers in small synagogues and convince others to pray outside. There is no certainty that this will actually happen.
Uman is the acid test. If the government fails to assert its authority and ban travelers, Professor Gamzu will be forced to resign and no successor will be taken seriously by the public. A failure to enforce rules in the virus-stricken ultra-orthodox sector could well lead to a nation wide shutdown. The last time that happened, in the spring, most mainstream Israelis followed the rules. If it happens again, compliance can't be assumed.
If chaos in the Jewish State is the price of Uman this year, Rabbi Nachman will be turning in his grave.
This column does not necessarily reflect the opinion of the editorial board or Bloomberg LP and its owners.
Zev Chafets is a journalist and author of 14 books. He was a senior aide to Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin and the founding managing editor of the Jerusalem Report Magazine.
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