2018 Book HebrewFascismInPalestine192219

H E B R E W
FA S C I S M I N
P A L E S T I N E
1922–1942
d a n t a m i r
Hebrew Fascism in Palestine, 1922–1942
Dan Tamir
Hebrew Fascism in
Palestine, 1922–1942
Dan Tamir
Department of Politics and Government
Ben Gurion University of the Negev
Beer Sheba, Israel
ISBN 978-3-319-73678-5 ISBN 978-3-319-73679-2 (eBook)

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-73679-2
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To my mother, who encouraged me.
Acknowledgements
Completing this book would not have been possible without help and
support provided by many people. Since this book is based on a PhD
dissertation submitted to the University of Zurich, I am primarily grateful
to my supervisors Carlo Moos and Moshe Zimmermann. The German
term “Doktorväter”, which literally means “dissertation fathers”, indeed
illustrates their qualities as teachers, mentors, colleagues and friends all at
the same time. Robert Paxton, Jakob Tanner, Philipp Sarasin, Idith Zertal,
Ruth Kartun-Blum and Marc Hall all contributed ideas and suggestions
based on their immense knowledge and experience; several anonymous
reviewers of the manuscript helped me just as well in rooting this book in
contemporary scholarship of fascism and nationalism.
The initial spark which led to contemplating this project was ignited by
Ilai and Yehuda Melzer, and for that I am deeply grateful. Julia Bieri,
Tzahi Ein-Gil, Elmar Plozza and Eva-Maria Schrage helped me make the
first steps towards beginning the research. Sara Bernasconi, Jolanda
Nydegger, Sabina Bellofatto, Alexandra Locher, Moisés Prieto, Gisella
Hürlimann and Giovanni Sorge all made the Institute for Social and
Economic History of the University of Zurich both an intellectually stim-
ulating and a socially welcoming place during my stay there. Silvia
Rodríguez Castellano and Manuela Gertsch provided the administrative
and bibliographic support needed for the project. The “Old Masters”—
Atlant Bieri, Andres Bucher Overturf and Simon Zeller—were so kind to
entertain and encourage me during weeks and months of writing, rewrit-
ing, editing and re-editing. Amir Bar-Or, Sharon Pardo and Ronnie
Ellenblum were firm and tough in spurring me towards finishing the
vii
viii Acknowledgements
manuscript; Mridula Vinayak, Carmel Kennedy and Emily Russell from

Palgrave Macmillan were patient and helpful during the production pro-
cess, and I am grateful to Nir Arielli who made the initial contact between
us. Marilyn Bar-Or edited and corrected the first version of this manu-
script, donning my limited language skills a proper English form. All
errors, omissions or mistakes in this book, of course, are mine alone.
Rakefet Zalashik, Daniella Talmon-Heller, Hagai Ram, Gideon Botsch,
Aviva Halamish and Henriette Dahan kindly invited me to seminars and
conference sessions where I got the opportunity to discuss some of the
more controversial parts of my thesis.
In Israel, Sharon Gordon, Yaron Cohen Tzemah, Gilad Nathan,
Aharon Porath and Gilad Halpern were excellent partners to talk with
about Israeli history and politics in general. Joseph Agassi, Joseph Barnea,
Joseph Ben Moshe, Yigal Bin-Nun, Odeh Bisharat, Boaz Evron, Yoella
Har Shefi, Ishai Menuchin, Uzzi Ornan, Idan Sobol, Chen Yehezkely and
Ofra Yeshua Lyth made me consider Hebrew nationalism in the context of
contemporary Israeli politics. At least a part of my interest in this book’s
theme is the outcome of their ceaseless attempts to make the Israeli state
recognize the existence of an Israeli nation. My friends and teachers
Aharon Amir and Peretz Qidron did not live to see this book. Their spirits,
though, rest upon it, as probably upon every text with even a pinch of
political context I have written during the past decade.
The research and the writing of the book would have been impossible
without the generous support of the Salomon David Steinberg Foundation
and the Forschungskredit of the University of Zurich. Working at the
archives of the Jabotinsky Institute was a very pleasant experience; the
institute’s devoted staff, especially Amira Stern and Olga Gechman, pro-
vided me invaluable and highly appreciated assistance. The Institute’s
director, Yossi Ahimeir, further allowed me to dig a bit into his father’s
impressive personal archive; granting such access to a critical researcher
does not go without saying, and I see it as a sign of trust and sincerity.
Earlier versions of two of the book’s chapters were published in The
Historical Journal and the Zeitschrift für Religions- und Geistesgeschichte.
I am grateful to Cambridge University Press and Brill for the permissions
to reproduce these articles.
The care and the support of Rona and Hadas Tamir helped me through
this project, from its very beginning. Nettali Hamiél contained my vagaries
Acknowledgements
ix
during the last phase of work, and helped me with a lot of love and
attention in preparing the final version; her support and encouragement
made the completion of this volume a joy and her family’s hospitality
helped me complete the manuscript in a warm and friendly atmosphere.
Anér Louis came to the world short before the publication of this book; I
hope that in the future he will learn both about the past and from it.
Contents
1 Introduction: A Meeting in Beirut 1
2 Individuals Making a Movement: Short Biographies

of Prominent Proponents of Hebrew Fascism 29
3 Facing an Unprecedented Disaster 41
4 The Nation Stands Above All 61
5 Tormented by Foreigners and Betrayed by Brothers 71
6 Is Spengler’s Prophecy Coming True? 85
7 Nation, Unification, Consolidation 99
8 Leaders and Self-Sacrificing Prophets 119
9 “Born Amidst Blood and Fire” 143
10 The Stronger Rules: Might Is Right 169
xi
xii Contents
11 Conclusion: A Hebrew Fascist Movement in Palestine 183
Bibliography 197
Index205
List of Figures
Fig. 3.1 Abba Aḥime’ir during the early 1930s. Courtesy of the
Jabotinsky Institute in Israel 56
Fig. 5.1 Uri Zwi Grünberg, early 1930s. Courtesy of the Jabotinsky
Institute in Israel 81
Fig. 6.1 Ze’ev Wolfgang von Weisl, early 1930s. Courtesy of the
Jabotinsky Institute in Israel 96
Fig. 8.1 Vladimir Ze’ev Jabotinsky, 1936. Courtesy of the Jabotinsky
Fig. 9.1 Abraham “Yair” Stern, 1936. Courtesy of the Jabotinsky
Fig. 10.1 Abba Aḥime’ir next to a wall with the inscription “do not take
part in the census!”, January 1931. Courtesy of the Jabotinsky
Fig. 11.1 The core of the fascist network. Blue persons, gray journals,
international affiliates. Straight lines mark direct working
contacts, curved lines mark remote or weak contacts 185
xiii
CHAPTER 1
Introduction: A Meeting in Beirut
Beirut, early January 1941. After an annoying wait in Ankara for the issue
of a visa by the French mandate authorities, Dr. Werner Otto von Hentig,
head of the Near East Department at the German Foreign Ministry,
arrived in the Lebanese capital. A senior diplomat with considerable expe-
rience in both overt and clandestine activity in the region, von Hentig was
there in order to inspect the local situation in the Levant and report about
it to the office in Berlin. Generally, his tour was successful: within four
weeks he had visited large parts of Syria and Lebanon, and received the
impression that local political circles were favourable to Germany.1
Von Hentig’s attempt to keep his visit low profile, however, turned out
to be less successful. The rumour that a senior German official was visiting
Lebanon quickly spread; various delegations and representatives of ethnic
and political groups in the region soon came to meet him: Muslims and
Christians, from Kurdistan to the shores of the Mediterranean. “The most
remarkable delegation came from Palestine,” von Hentig recalled in his
autobiography, about 20 years later. “The head [of the delegation], an
impressive young man with the look of an officer, suggested working in
cooperation with the National Socialists against their own people, primar-
ily the orthodox Zionists, if Hitler would guarantee the sovereignty of
Jewish Palestine.”2
That young fellow was Naftali Lubenczik, and the delegation he headed
consisted of members of the “National Military Organisation in Israel”,
who—led by Abraham Stern—had split from the general National Military
© The Author(s) 2018 1

D. Tamir, Hebrew Fascism in Palestine, 1922–1942,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-73679-2_1
2 D. TAMIR
Organisation (NMO) about a year earlier.3 However, the initiative for

collaboration between Nazi Germany and the NMO in Israel did not bear
fruit. Lubenczik was arrested by the British police soon after his return to
Tel Aviv; a year later, Stern himself was arrested and executed by the police.
To be sure, the NMO in Israel did not represent a mass movement.
Stern’s idea, that collaboration with the Axis might be beneficial, gained
very limited approval among the Hebrew community in Palestine.
Members of the NMO in Israel were actually tagged with a shower of
insults and psychiatric terms borrowed from Hebrew dictionaries of the
time: from “traitors”, “collaborators” and “Quislings”, to “snakes”,
“gangsters”, “lunatics” and “masochists”.4
Indeed, the idea to collaborate with Nazi Germany was an extreme one.
But it was not the sporadic attempt of a disconnected group, suddenly
struck by some political lunacy. Furthermore, Stern and his fellows were not
seeking an ad hoc alliance, based on short-term political opportunism. The
main argument of this book is that Stern’s ideology, and the small yet
devoted group which gathered around it, were the ultimate and most pro-
found expression of a genuine fascist movement which had gradually evolved
during the 1920s and 1930s in the Hebrew society in Palestine in general,
and within the Revisionist Zionist movement in particular.
Generic Fascism
A huge corpus of literature has been assembled in the past 80 years about
fascism. Varied in their focal points and covering many different aspects of
that phenomenon, these works include political and social analysis, eco-
nomic research, psychological and literary interpretations, along with
many other directions of investigation.
But what is fascism? This question may be divided into three further
inter-related sub-questions: what are its roots, what are its limits and what
is its place within the political sphere of the Right? Interestingly enough,
for a long time fascism was viewed by many scholars as actually non-
existent for its own sake, lacking any positive content and being defined
by its negations: anti-liberal, anti-communist and anti-rationalist.
Recognising the problematic of the issue, Stanley Payne politely admitted
that the mere term fascism “proved notoriously slippery and resistant to
interpretation and even to basic definition”.5 On a similar vein, David
D. Roberts agreed that fascism “seems to entail a singular combination of
substance and hollowness difficult to understand in tandem”.6
INTRODUCTION: A MEETING IN BEIRUT 3
Unsurprisingly, the greatest bulk of research focused on fascism in Italy

and Germany. While acknowledging the unique features of each of these
regimes, it is generally agreed that Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy had
many things in common, and represent two manifestations of the same
political phenomenon, sometimes to the degree of referring to National-
Socialism simply as “German Fascism”.7 The focused historical interest in
the Italian and German fascisms was not only quantitative, but qualitative
as well, since Germany and Italy were the only states in which fascist move-
ments managed not only to take root and become serious political powers,
but also to seize power and establish regimes which eventually collapsed in
a horrible show of blood and fire.8
Indeed, some scholars argue that fascism was a phenomenon tightly
bound to a specific political constellation and a specific moment in mod-
ern history. Ernst Nolte argued that the era of fascism was actually identi-
cal with the era of the World Wars.9
Zeev Sternhell argues that ideologies and movements may be discov-
ered in their purest form before coming to power and before pressures and
compromises transform them into governmental groups. “The nature of a
political ideology”, he suggests, “always emerges more clearly in its aspira-
tions than in its application”.10 Concentrating on fascism’s ideological and
intellectual parts, Sternhell locates its roots in a reaction to the values of
modern enlightenment, already present and well articulated in late
nineteenth-century France. He traces the roots of fascism even to 1871,
when Ernest Renan published his Réforme intellectuelle et morale de la
France; the fascist ideology was simply the hardcore and the most radical
variety of a far more widespread, older phenomenon: a comprehensive
revision of the essential values of the humanistic and rationalistic heritage
of the enlightenment.11
Fascism, according to Sternhell, sought to lay a foundation of a new
civilisation, a communal, anti-individualist civilisation, that alone would
be capable of perpetuating the existence of a human collectivity, in which
all layers and classes of society are perfectly integrated. The natural frame-
work of such harmonious, organic collectivity was the nation.12 Sternhell
sees the essence of fascism as a synthesis of organic nationalism and anti-
Marxist socialism. Fascist ideology, he claims, was a rejection of “material-
ism” and it aimed at bringing a total spiritual revolution; fascist activism,
with its marked tendency to elitism, “favoured a strong political authority,
freed from the trammels of democracy and emanating from the nation, a
state that represented the whole of society, with all its different classes”.13
4 D. TAMIR
The two basic components of fascism, he argues, were tribal nationalism,

based on social Darwinism, and anti-materialistic revision of Marxism.14
Sternhell argues that fascism, before becoming a political force, was a
cultural phenomenon, and the crystallisation of fascist ideology preceded
the buildup of fascist political power and was necessary for its develop-
ment.15 All the fascist movements had the same lineage: a revolt against
liberal democracy and bourgeois society, and an absolute refusal to accept
the conclusions inherent in the general outlook, in the explanation of
social phenomena and human relations, of all the so-called “materialist”
schools of thought.16
However, one of the main arguments for deeming Sternhell’s theory as
only partially adequate for explaining fascism is the fact that his historical
trajectory actually ends in 1922, neglecting later developments of that
stream of thought after the Fascist taking of power and the establishment
of a fascist regime in Italy, when fascism became not only a theory, but a
practice as well. As David D. Roberts argues, rather than seeing practice
and theory as distinct from each other, one should “recognise that actors
were thinking and thinkers were acting in the same field of conflicted
categories”.17
Some scholars saw fascism as a unique European phenomenon, confin-
ing its geographical scope to that continent alone: Renzo de Felice, for
example, writes that the use of the term Fascism “cannot be extended to
countries outside Europe, nor to any period other than that between the
wars”.18
During the first half of the twentieth century, however, similar groups
and movements were active in many countries around the world beside
Italy and Germany; some of those groups played central roles in their
respective political arenas. Although none of those groups managed to
seize full state power, some became serious contenders for it. This political
phenomenon is usually referred to as generic fascism.
After a first “wave” of research about fascism from the 1920s to the
1940s and a second “wave” during the 1960s and 1970s, a third “wave”
of comparative research of fascism emerged in the 1990s.19 This recent
surge in interest in the topic, which was centred mostly in the UK and the
USA, probably gained its initial momentum after the collapse of the USSR
and the dismantling of the Communist bloc—a political event which
aroused worries about a possible reappearance of fascist movements.20
Due to fascism’s extremely nation-centred nature, nothing like a
“Fascist International” or a global, self-defined standard for fascism has
been established. To paraphrase Tolstoy’s famous opening sentence, we

may say that every fascism is fascism in its own unique way; to take a “taxo-
nomic” parable, fascism might be considered a genus rather than a species.
All that said, the theory of generic fascism postulates that these diverse
fascisms do belong to a common group, which can be investigated as such.
Accordingly, many research works have examined parties and movements
in countries other than Germany and Italy: from Norway to New South
Wales, and from Japan to Brazil.21
Following the Second World War and the collapse of the Axis and the
regimes affiliated with it, which were clearly viewed as fascist, scholars
were far from agreeing about what fascism actually was.22 Historical and
political scholarship saw very different definitions of fascism—either its
ideology or its affiliated regimes—let alone fascist movements outside
Europe. Although the approaches to fascism articulated by Nolte and
Sternhell became famous within the debate among social scientists regard-
ing the roots of fascism, these approaches were hardly applied as a concep-
tual tool by historians researching fascist phenomena.23
While agreeing generally about the mere existence of generic fascism,24
scholars still dispute its exact scope and definition. It was in this context
that Roger Griffin began his attempts at phrasing a definition of fascism
which will be both accurate and practical, aiming at what he later named
“the new consensus” in the definition of fascism. “Fascism is a genus of
modern, revolutionary, ‘mass’ politics”, he writes, “which, while extremely
heterogeneous in its social support and in the specific ideology promoted
by its many permutations, draws its internal cohesion and driving force
from a core myth that a period of perceived national decline and deca-
dence is giving way to one of rebirth and renewal in a post-liberal new
order.”25
In an attempt to reach a definition of a “fascist minimum”,26 Griffin
coined the phrase that “fascism is a genus of political ideology whose
mythic core in its various permutations is a ‘palingenetic’ form of populist
ultra-nationalism”.27 Nonetheless, in a volume concentrating on the con-
nections and the reciprocal relations between fascism as a wide phenome-
non and various regimes during the inter-war period, Griffin asserted that
“considerable confusion” still reigns in the taxonomy of political move-
ments and regimes” on the Right side of the political spectrum.28
Roger Eatwell, in turn, described fascism as “an ideology that strives to
forge social rebirth based on a holistic-national radical Third Way, though
in practice fascism has tended to stress style, especially action and the
6 D. TAMIR
charismatic leader, more than a detailed programme, and to engage in a

Manichean demonisation of its enemies”.29 Fascism, he argues, was more
a flexible strategy to achieve power than a blueprint. Furthermore, varia-
tions in both fascist theory and practice helped make fascism, especially its
Italian variant, an appealing model—as relevant parts could be adapted to
other national situations and traditions, with these in turn becoming
models for others.30
Next to finding an agreed-upon definition of fascism, further attention
was given to the evolution of fascist movements and regimes. Citing
Michael Mann’s five core elements of fascism—nationalism, statism, tran-
scendence, cleansing and paramilitarism31—António Costa Pinto modelled
a three-stage cycle of fascism: (1) creation of fascist movements; (2) their
seizure of power; and (3) exercise of power.32 His definition of fascism is a
combined one, based on those of Robert Paxton and Michael Mann, which
stress the importance of both ideology and power organisation.
The latest methodological shift in fascism studies is probably the empha-
sising of dynamism rather than stability in the definition of the term.
Together with Aristotle Kallis, Pinto lately proved that the complex trans-
national dynamic that involved inspiration, political learning, reflexive
cross-fertilisation and competition perforated and muddled the boundaries
between political categories and constituencies of the inter-war European
Right. All these dynamic transnational entanglements generated a rich field
of circulation of ideas and practices that shaped the experience of both
inter-war “fascism” and “dictatorship” far more than previously assumed.33
This dynamic existed not only between dictatorships and ruling parties,
but between small and sometimes even marginal political groupings and
movements of the extreme right as well; indeed, it involved diffusion of
ideas and practices, cross-fertilisation, and reflexive adaptation among small
political groups worldwide. Furthermore, Kallis notes that the political
attraction force of fascism grew stronger during the 30s, producing a “fas-
cistisation” in varying extents of the European Right.34 The methodologi-
cal frame of this work, however, is based on the model suggested by Robert
O. Paxton, for several reasons which will be described in the following.
The General Phenomenon: Paxton’s Model

In his book The Anatomy of Fascism,35 Robert Paxton presents an elaborate
description of fascism, and a model of the way in which fascist movements
emerge and develop. According to Paxton, fascism, “the major political
innovation of the twentieth century”, is a form of political behaviour
marked by obsessive preoccupation with community decline, humiliation

and victimhood, together with compensatory cults of unity, energy and
purity. Paxton argues that the seeds of fascism lie within all democratic
systems, and are likely to sprout in troubled societies in times of national
crisis. It is a social phenomenon engrained within modern mass politics,
being present at some level—from quiet dormancy to a total seizure of
power—in all modern nations. In contrast to classical tyrannies, military
dictatorships and conservative authoritarian regimes—which usually try to
put their people to sleep—fascist movements try to mobilise the masses
towards internal cleansing and external expansion, while abandoning dem-
ocratic liberties, competing against traditional elites and removing legal
restraints.36 Paxton does not try to phrase as precise and short a definition
as possible, but rather provides us with a practical description of fascism.
With some parallels to the criteria and definitions of Eatwell, Griffin,
Schieder and other scholars,37 Paxton counts nine “mobilising emotions”
which together might comprise a good description of a fascist movement.38
According to Paxton’s model, fascism can generally be defined as a radical
nationalistic ideology which entails:
1. a sense of overwhelming crisis beyond the reach of any traditional

solutions;
2. the belief in the primacy of the group, to which one has obligations
superior to all rights, whether individual or universal, and the subor-
dination of the individual to the group;
3. the belief that the group is a victim, thus justifying any action against
its enemies, both internal and external;
4. dread of the group’s decline under the corrosive effects of individual
liberalism, class conflict and alien influences;
5. the need for closer integration of a purer community, either by con-
sent or by violence;
6. the need for authority of natural chiefs, culminating in one national
chieftain;
7. the superiority of the leader’s instincts over abstract and universal
reason;
8. the beauty of violence and the efficacy of will, when devoted to the
group’s success;
9. the right of the chosen people to dominate others without restraint
of any kind of human or divine law, while the sole criterion defining
it is the group’s prowess within a Darwinian struggle.39
8 D. TAMIR
A central advantage of using Paxton’s definition of generic fascism for the

analysis of hitherto unresearched case studies is the balance it holds
between implementability and accuracy: this model does not try to look
for a “minimum” or find the lowest common denominator, but at the
same time it does not give an “across-the-board”, all-encompassing
description which makes the definition of fascism suit a large number of
right-wing nationalistic movements.40
It should be mentioned that Paxton himself is very cautious with such
definitions, rejecting any attempt to fix strict “taxonomic” classifications
of fascism. Some kind of a working definition, however, is necessary for
examining a certain phenomenon; and these above-mentioned character-
istics can still serve us for considering a political movement as fascist.
The Specific Case: Hebrew Fascism

Models are instruments made for analysing and understanding phenom-
ena. Can Paxton’s model serve us in identifying and analysing political
movements which have not yet been analysed as fascist? Two basic postu-
lates form the basis for this research. The first is Paxton’s postulate that
fascism is an inherent part of modern politics, stepping into the political
arena as modern societies with mechanisms of mass politics as these experi-
ence what they conceive as a deep political crisis.41
The second postulate is that in early twentieth-century Palestine, a
small yet thriving and modern Hebrew society was undergoing a local
political crisis. That society’s modernisation process, which commenced at
the end of the nineteenth century, gained a major boost after the First
World War, when the old Ottoman regime was replaced by British manda-
tory rule, bringing the country closer to the European sphere of influ-
ence—politically, economically and culturally.42
Every modernisation process might entail a certain feeling of crisis. But
in Palestine, this feeling of crisis was boosted by two accompanying f actors.
The first was the Mandate regime, which was supposed to be a temporary
phase on the way towards self-governance and independence, yet was
unlimited in time. A second factor was the different and sometimes con-
tradictory promises made by the British government to various parties and
pressure groups, playing a game of “divide and rule” while encouraging
local nationalism and promoting inter-communal tensions. For the
Hebrew people and the Zionist movement, Britain’s division of Palestine
in 1922 was a decisive moment.43
The suggested hypothesis of this work is derived from combining these

two assumptions: if fascism is present in any given modern society during
times of political crisis, and if a modern Hebrew society in Palestine was
experiencing a deep political crisis during the 1920s and 1930s, one may
expect a fascist movement to have emerged within that society at the time.
But how can one trace it?
State of the Research Today

While there has been considerable research into the ideas and actions of
most of the persons, groups and organisations of the Hebrew Right in
inter-war Palestine, these research works were to a large extent carried out
either by political opponents from the Zionist left, or by the Rightists’
political descendants. In many cases, it seems that the academic debates
among scholars regarding Revisionist Zionism’s fascist tendencies run par-
allel to their own political inclinations today; by its very nature, this con-
troversy literature is either polemic or apologetic. Moreover: these studies
usually focus on the political thought and action of the Revisionists’ leader,
Zeev Jabotinsky.44
In 1923, disappointed by the British government’s failure to fulfil its
promise to the Zionist movement regarding the establishment of a Zionist
“national home” in Palestine, and appalled by what he perceived as the
“docility” of the Zionist leadership (which was then headed by Dr. Haim
Weizmann), Ze’ev Jabotinsky resigned from the Zionist executive and the
Zionist Organisation. Jabotinsky called for a revision of Zionist politics—
rendering it more firm and less compromising in its demands from the
British government. In April 1925, Jabotinsky officially established the
Union of Revisionist Zionists, which soon became the main political body
within the Zionist and Hebrew right wing. Jabotinsky’s preachings for
non-compromising politics on the national level, combined with his excel-
lent rhetoric capabilities and utmost personal devotion to public affairs,
granted him wide support among Zionist activists, mostly youngsters
from eastern and central Europe.45
The name “fascist”, however, became a word of abuse, which was com-
monly voiced by Labour Zionists in order to defame their right-wing
political opponents from the Revisionist party. Here, too, Jabotinsky’s fig-
ure played a central role: while some left-oriented scholars claimed he was
a fascist,46 his followers and political descendants emphasised the liberal
parts evident in his political thought.47
10 D. TAMIR
There are also very detailed reports about specific armed groups such as
the “Stern Gang”48 and the National Military Organisation.49 Many
shorter articles deal with specific events in the history of these organisa-
tions and their political activities in Palestine at the time.
While the above-mentioned studies tend to focus on specific individuals
or small organisations, broader portraits of Jabotinsky’s followers and the
Revisionist Movement tend to characterise it generally as “right-wing”.50
Hitherto, however, no comprehensive research has been carried out trying
to examine the possible existence of generic Hebrew fascism in Palestine.
Those studies which indeed tried to portray a wider political scene usually
referred to their research objects as “nationalists”, “rightists”, “extreme
rightists” or “terrorists”.51
Furthermore, basing the research into fascism on biographies of specific
persons or groups might be misleading, as people who were fascists in one
phase of their lives might have changed their political tendencies later on.
By the same token, fascist movements’ constituencies may grow and
decline with time, as individuals either join or leave them.52
Very few researches have tried to examine the fascist tendencies within
the Revisionist Movement on a comparative basis. Heller writes that dur-
ing the 1930s there was “an authentic fascist stream” within the Revisionist
Movement. He argues that the movement was “marked by fascist ele-
ments which were characteristic of movements of integralist nationalism in
inter-war Europe”.53
Heller refers only briefly to a small faction within the Revisionist party,
making two important reservations. First, he argues that Jabotinsky, who
was the Movement’s undisputed leader from its establishment until his
untimely death in 1940, did not identify absolutely with fascism, but at
the most “accepted the existence of a proto-fascist faction within his
movement”, adopted some of Italian Fascism’s corporatist economic prin-
ciples and sought Italian support as a tactical card against Britain. Second,
he points out that at the end of the 1930s, those leaders of what he calls
“a proto-fascist faction” within the Revisionist Movement—explicitly
mentioning Von Weisl and Aḥime’ir—forsook fascism. The only
Revisionists who did not break with fascism after the beginning of the
Second World War were Abraham Stern and his followers (who indeed
severed their connections with the Revisionist movement in 1939).
A comprehensive review and analysis of the ideology and cultural trends
prevailing among Revisionist Zionist circles between 1920 and 1937 is
Eran Kaplan’s book, The Jewish Radical Right, published in 2005.54
Kaplan mentions the Revisionist’s admiration of force and violence, their

cult of the leader, the movement’s rebellion against modernism and ratio-
nalism, its opposition to socialism and the influence Futurism had over
it—all blatant characteristics of fascist movements of that era.
Kaplan describes the Revisionists’ ideological writing as a “process cre-
ating a radical new vision of the Hebrew national revival”, an ideology
“that attempted to reinvent the Hebrew nation by cultural means”. “Like
other radical right-wing movements in Europe”, he writes, “Revisionism
was a revolt against rationalism, individualism and materialism, against
what Zeev Sternhell has called the heritage of the Enlightenment and the
French Revolution”.55 Kaplan strictly refrains, however, from using the
term fascism to describe the Revisionist Movement, and prefers to tag it as
radical Right; the reason for this is what he perceives as the common link-
age made between fascism and anti-Semitism. Kaplan draws on Abba
Aḥime’ir, who stated that one of the Revisionist Movement’s objectives
was “preventing the association of fascism and anti-Semitism”.56 Aḥime’ir’s
regret for this failure can be easily understood, as his view of fascism was
actually quite favourable—at least until 1933. But what if Aḥime’ir were
right, and fascism indeed had no inherent connection to anti-Semitism?
What if fascism—unlike what was widely assumed after the Second World
War—was not anti-Semitic by its nature, and therefore could be easily
adopted by “Semites”? Indeed, Stanley Payne asserts that although fas-
cism generally represented an extreme form of modern European nation-
alism, fascist ideologies were not necessarily racist in the Nazi sense of
mystical, intra-European Nordic racism, nor even were they necessarily
anti-Semitic. He adds, however, that fascist nationalists were all racists in
the general sense of considering blacks or non-Europeans inferior.57
Finding the Research Object: Network

Even if we begin with the assumption that the Revisionist movement was
not a fascist one, the question still remains: what might be the research
aim of “Israeli fascism”? Searching for hierarchical organisations or
declared fascist movements will bring us nowhere, for in Israeli history
there was no movement which explicitly named itself “fascist”, nor were
there any hierarchical organisations bearing characteristics fully identical
to those of established fascist parties in Europe at that time. But if we
accept the thesis that fascist movements are not created ex nihilo but rather
develop gradually, then we could widen our search from organisations and
12 D. TAMIR
institutions to non-institutionalised groups, which pre-date the establish-

ment of an organised, institutionalised party. These non-institutionalised
groups are similar to what Roger Griffin named “slime mould”;58 they are
equivalent to the first developmental phase in Robert Paxton’s model, that
of the creation of fascist movements. In short: we are not looking for an
official, regulated political construction, but an informal social network.
And here we can use network-theory.59
But where should we begin to trace this network? Kaplan’s mentioning
of Aḥime’ir—and not some other prominent Revisionist activist—in refer-
ring to fascism was not coincidental. It might help us find the first part of
the network. As in the old joke about the drunkard in the middle of the
night, we may begin the search under the street lamp, where there is light.
After obtaining his PhD from the university of Vienna (for a work ana-
lysing certain aspects of Oswald Spengler’s Decline of the West),60 Abba
Aḥime’ir—a devoted Zionist—migrated to Palestine and worked a few
years as a teacher and a journalist. At first active in the moderate party
Ha-Poèl ha-Tzaìr (“The Young Worker”), he gradually became more
and more distanced from socialist circles. By 1928 he had become a
devoted Revisionist, and between Autumn 1928 and Winter 1929 he was
writing a weekly column in the liberal newspaper Do’ar ha-Yom. The col-
umn’s title was “From the Notebook of a Fascist”. This is—as far as I
know—the only case in Hebrew history of a person declaring himself to be
a fascist. In the early 1930s he was one of the editors of Ḥ azit ha-‘Am—
the Revisionist newspaper Jabotinsky threatened to close, because it
praised National Socialist politics.61
The second link in the network is Itamar Ben Avi, founder and editor
of Do’ar ha-Yom. Ben Avi argued that fascism provides a good answer to
the looming danger of communism. “Get used to this new name”, wrote
Ben Avi in his editorial a few days after the March on Rome, “to the four
syllables of Italy’s hero of the day, that young Garibaldi—as he’s called by
the admirers of late Garibaldi… for this Italian will keep us busy with many
more great surprises and actions…”.62 As Jabotinsky returned to Palestine
in October 1928, after a few years abroad, Ben Avi clearly saw similarities
between the two leaders.63 Later, during the 1930s, he was also the chair-
man of the “Italian Culture Club” in Tel Aviv.
Wolfgang von Weisl had similar hopes that Jabotinsky would become a
powerful national leader, and he made them explicit. The Viennese born
physician took a career as a journalist; his journeys brought him to eastern
Africa, where he was highly impressed by Italian colonial power.
Acknowledging the role of fascism in this prosperity, he asked Jabotinsky

“to be our Führer”.64 Jabotinsky refused to take a dictatorial position
within the movement; in 1935, however, Von Weisl was trying to establish
contacts with the leadership of the British Union of Fascists.65
Joshua Yevin, a translator, columnist and publicist, wrote too in Ḥ azit
ha-‘Am (Hebrew for “The People’s Front”), and was—together with
Aḥime’ir and Uri Zwi Grünberg—one of the founders of “Brit ha-
Biryonim” militia: a small yet active and vociferous group, which had the
declared aim of educating the youth to political action by violence and
force, active from 1930 to 1933, leaving a significant impact on the politi-
cal discourse in Palestine during the 1930s.66
The violence of Brit ha-Biryonim was mostly rhetorical, never armed.
The group’s activist spirit, however, provided the inspiration for Abraham
Stern, who—in Autumn 1939, after the outbreak of the Second World
War—opposed the policy of Jabotinsky and his followers in the leadership
of the National Military Organisation, which he regarded as too weak and
compromising. Stern used his apocalyptic visions of national renaissance
through blood and fire67 in order to mobilise some NMO activists and to
found a small yet devoted and violent underground group: the NMO in
Israel, later known as Israel’s Liberty Fighters. In his uncompromising war
against the British regime he tried, in winter 1940–1941, to forge an alli-
ance with the Axis.68
Some Preliminary Notes

Until now, therefore, no reference has been made to Hebrew fascism in
Palestine during the 1920s and 30s as a political current distinct from
“right-wing” or “anti-socialist” (terms which could apply to many liberals
and moderate conservatives as well), and methodically comparable with
other fascist movements around the world. But before going into its
details within a comparative framework, several points should be made
clear about the Hebrew case study.
First, a distinction should be made between the two terms, “Hebrew”
and “Jewish”. Both have a long and at times intertwined common history.
A clear example thereof is the meaning of the term ebrei in modern Italian:
it clearly refers to a religious community. Ebrei can be translated into
English as “Jewish”, and into German as “Jüdisch”. The origin of the
term “Hebrew” is quite an ancient one, and so is the confusing usage of
this term as parallel to “Jewish”.69
14 D. TAMIR
However, for the sake of this research it is important to distinguish

between the two in the context of Palestine in the twentieth century. This
distinction is important in two dimensions, positive and negative.
Positively, the term “Hebrew” is meant to describe the main characteristic
of the cultural sphere in which the political movement in concern took
action. In Palestine, Hebrew was a language of education, press, com-
merce, art, literature, politics—all aspects of everyday life. In this aspect,
Hebrew was not different from many other modern languages which laid
the basis for modern national societies.70 Negatively, Hebrew is not Jewish.
While the first defines an earthly, territorial, linguistic and historical social
group, the latter represents a religious, ex-territorial, confessional, non-
historical congregation. Although Hebrew people and Hebrew groups
had connections with traits, traditions and symbols commonly perceived
as “Jewish”, a clear distinction should be maintained between the two.71
These two dimensions are not unrelated. As a matter of fact, to a large
extent they developed in parallel: the creation of a modern Hebrew terri-
torial nation demanded—to a certain degree, at least—alienation towards
pre-modern, non-territorial Jewish communities. As the consolidation
and strengthening of “national consciousness” is frequently a central part
in the practice of fascist movements, it is not surprising that protagonists
of Hebrew fascism took an active part in what Uri Ram terms “a deliberate
effort to be released from the ‘Jewish’ burden”, and replace it with Hebrew
cultural capital.72
This effort was deliberately and manifestly made both personally by
Jabotinsky and by the Revisionist movement more generally during the
1920s and 1930s. Jabotinsky clearly objected to granting religion any sig-
nificant role in the public realm. The belief that religion is a private affair
was well rooted in his liberal views. Although some of his followers and
supporters were observant and even religious Jews, they also accepted this
separation between religion and nationality.73
A second important point that should be remembered is that “fascism”
and “fascist” are not used here as an abuse. Like many other political cur-
rents in the twentieth century, fascism gained both adversaries and ene-
mies. Understandably, the violent defeat of fascist regimes in Europe in
1945 condemned the ideology which drove them, making “fascism”—at
least officially and in its declared and blatant form—an outcast political
thought. The crimes committed by fascist regimes and parties during the
1930s and 1940s have justly contributed to the revulsion that fascism
inspires today.
But we should not project our understanding of fascism today on peo-

ple’s perception of fascism in earlier times. People who lived during the
1920s and 1930s did not have the knowledge we have now about fas-
cism’s possible—but not inevitable—consequences. In short: “fascism” is
a social and political phenomenon, not an abuse.
A third point is the geographic focus of this work. Although Palestine
was the object of its political efforts from a very early stage in its history,
the Zionist movement was not born there; nor did it have there its opera-
tional centre, nor the greater bulk of its activists and militants. Zionism
remained mostly a foreign movement, based in and oriented towards
Europe and, later on, the USA. At least until 1939, the operational centre
of the Zionist movement was in Europe, mainly in London; the majority
of its adherents were located in central and eastern Europe. To a large
extent, it was an important political string (though not the only one) con-
necting Palestine and Europe during the years examined in this research.
Revisionist Zionism, the ancestor of Hebrew fascism, was no exception
to this. Many of the Hebrew fascists of the 1920s and 1930s were not
born in Palestine; some were at a certain point in their lives members of
different European Zionist political organisations and factions. “Beytar”,
the revisionist youth movement, for example, was founded in Lithuania
and held its conferences and congresses mainly in Poland; its naval school
was in Civitavecchia, 70 km from Rome.74
However, it is possible to differentiate between local political thought
and practice and international Zionism. While acknowledging the rela-
tions and ties between the Hebrew society in Palestine and Zionist institu-
tions around the world, this research focuses on the local politics only.
Indeed, similarly to trends in other “nativist” movements, it was pre-
cisely this focus on local activity rather than on international politics which
became one of the characteristics of radical Revisionists, accelerating the
radicalisation of part of the Revisionist movement, which culminated in
Stern’s secession from the NMO, which will be discussed in the following
chapters.75
Mentioning the toponym “Palestine” might also cause some difficulty,
semantic rather than essential—even though it became the vessel for a
great deal of ideological fury.76 “Palestine” is the name which was used by
the British Mandate Government when referring to the land between
Aqaba in the South, Rafah and the Mediterranean shore in the west, the
Sykes-Picot borders in the North, and the Iraqi desert border in the East:
a territory including today’s Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan, the State of
16 D. TAMIR
Israel and the Palestinian Authority. In 1922, the British government

granted the parts of Palestine east of the Jordan river to Prince Àbdullah
of the Hashem family; thus, Palestine was divided into Transjordan
Palestine and Cisjordan Palestine. This division of the land was probably
the most crucial single event which led Jabotinsky and his followers to
form the Revisionist Movement, the political current from which Hebrew
fascism gradually emerged.77
Therefore, “Israel” is actually a synonym for “Palestine”. It too is
divided into Israel West of the Jordan river and Israel East of it. As a matter
of fact, it was only during the late 1990s that the Likkud—the Israeli
political party which inherited the Revisionist Movement—recognised the
separation of Israel east of the river from Israel west of the river. Today
too, it is not uncommon to read and hear—mostly among speakers of the
right wing—the term “Western Palestine” (or Western Israel) referring to
the territories currently under Israeli rule) and “Eastern Palestine” (or
Eastern Israel) referring to the territories of the Hashemite Kingdom.78
Therefore, the terms Israel and Palestine are used as exact synonyms in this
work.
Another question often asked is whether fascism is possible without an
independent state. The research of totalitarianism has contributed a lot to
the common connotation made between fascism and a strong state appa-
ratus. But an established state is not a precondition for fascism, for two
reasons: inherent and structural.
Inherently, the strong connection between state and nation is a product
of certain streams within European nationalism. Crudely, one may claim
that the difference between these two streams is parallel to the egg and
chicken question: does every nation “deserve” a state of its own, or do
states form nations?79 Ethnic (“chauvinist”, “primordial”) nationalisms
may, therefore, precede states, and see the establishment of a national state
as their goal.
The structural reason is based on Paxton’s model of stages in fascist
development. Even if one assumes that the existence of a state is necessary
for a fascist movement to seize power and exercise it, the state is not a
necessity for the earlier stages of the fascist life cycle, that is, initial forma-
tion and taking root. It is worth mentioning that the Hebrew case is not
the only one of a fascist movement active within a colonial society: other
examples are the Indian fascist movement and that of New South Wales, to
name just two instances of fascist movements which were active in territo-
ries that were not totally independent of the British Empire at that time.80
Still another question regards the slight yet important difference

between pro-Italian policies and genuine autochthonic fascism during the
examined period. The political success of the Fascists in Italy had encour-
aged other political actors around the world to try and imitate it, creating
various generic fascisms. However, the geo-political circumstances of the
Mediterranean basin during the 1920s and 1930s have granted a double
meaning to the term “pro-fascist”. During that period, Italy and Great
Britain were involved in a competition over the control over the
Mediterranean Sea, a rivalry which culminated in the Second World War.
It is no wonder, then, that numerous local anti-British forces and move-
ments, seeking allies in their struggle against Britain, were happy to ally
with Mussolini’s Italy, for pure Realpolitik calculations, assuming that “my
enemy’s enemy is my friend”. Such groups were not necessarily fascist.
The borderline between autochthonic fascism based on deep political con-
viction and simple pro-Italianism might be blurred and not always stable.
Indeed, the two tended to mix.81
Just as important is the issue mentioned by Kaplan, regarding the rela-
tion between fascism, racism and anti-Semitism. In the ongoing process of
defining and understanding fascism, some attributes and components are
commonly agreed upon as being integral parts of it: these include (among
other things) ultra-nationalism, cult of the leader and mobilisation of the
masses. However, the role of other sociological phenomena in forming the
base for fascism is disputed. Racism is one such phenomenon.
As fascism won its greatest political success in Italy and Germany, Italian
and German fascisms have contributed the most to the way fascism is gen-
erally perceived. Racism played an important role in both these regimes. It
was a central element of Hitler’s Nazi ideology, and became a cornerstone
of his regime from its very beginning. And while Mussolini’s Fascism did
not reach the same scope of murderous bloodshed as that of the Nazis, it
also developed racist practices and implemented them gradually, first in
Africa, and later on in Italy itself.82
With their inherent nationalist inclinations, fascist movements are prob-
ably more likely to adopt racist elements than other, less nationalistic polit-
ical movements. But is racism an inherent component of fascism? Is racism
a necessary condition for the emergence of fascism, or can a fascist move-
ment emerge and evolve also without being racist?
Stanley Payne asserts that although fascism generally represented an
extreme form of modern European nationalism, fascist ideologies were
not necessarily racist in the Nazi sense of mystical, intra-European Nordic
18 D. TAMIR
racism, nor even were they necessarily anti-Semitic. He adds, however,

that fascist nationalists were all racists in the general sense of considering
blacks or non-Europeans inferior.83
This can be illustrated by the Italian example. Although it harboured
a host of outright racists, the Italian Fascist Party as a whole was not
racist at least until the mid-1930s. The “General Directorate for
Demography and Race” (“Direzione generale per la demografia e la
razza”) was established only in 1938, replacing a former department
within the ministry of the Interior, founded in 1937.84 As for anti-Juda-
ism and anti-Semitism, the Italian case might be even clearer. Roberto
Farinacci’s vigorous demand from Jewish Italian fascists to actively dis-
tance and differentiate themselves from their Jewish “co-fellows” in the
context of the Spanish civil war in September 1936 may indicate they
formed a significant part (either in numbers or symbolically) of the
Fascist party’s membership.85
This fact did not evade the eyes of contemporary supporters of fascism
in Palestine. “It is clear to us, that this book would raise resentment among
certain circles, which are used to see no difference between the fascist
movement in Italy and the anti-Semitic movements in Europe which claim
to be fascist”, wrote the editor of Mussolini’s first biography in Hebrew,
published in Tel Aviv in 1936. He made clear to the readers that some
“‘fascisms’ are false pretenses, just as naming the Nazis ‘socialist’ is false
pretense”.86
During the last few decades, the term “racism” has been so widely
expanded that it is now often used to describe various kinds of discrimina-
tion, based upon gender, cultural preferences or religious affiliations. This
inclusive definition has also been used in retrospect, for instance as some
scholars claimed that Italian Fascist racism had been a “spiritual” rather
than a “biological” racism.87
But it is precisely because of the theoretical affinity between fascism and
other rightist ideologies which tend to be culturally exclusive and discrimi-
natory towards groups of “others”, that precision and accuracy are crucial
when assessing the role of racism in fascist ideology and practice. Maybe
the best place to begin would be what Fredrickson describes as “scientific
racism”, which was common in Europe during the first half of the twenti-
eth century, and remain within its boundaries.88 While Payne’s first asser-
tion reaffirms the non-necessity of racism for all fascist ideologies and
movements except German Nazism, his second assertion might be refuted
by the existence of non-European fascist movements. Japanese, Chinese,

Arab—all these generic fascisms may serve as a proof that the notion of
European supremacy is not an inherent part of fascism.89
Last but not least, one should note that examining Hebrew fascism in
Palestine does not mean forgetting that pro-fascist sentiments among
Arabic-speaking societies, as well as outright Arabist fascisms, were (and in
some cases still are) active in the region. Ḥ ag ‘Amin al-Ḥ usseini’s collabo-
ration with the German S.S. and Rašid Àli al-Kaylani’s German-inspired
rebellion in Iraq are among the better-known cases of Arabist support of
Nazism.90 But even if they were driven by a whole-hearted admiration of
the Nazi regime (and, at least in the case of Ḥ ag ‘Amin, a strong anti-
Jewish sentiment), they probably reflect a political support for the enemies
of Great Britain rather than an attempt to establish local national generic
fascism in the Fertile Crescent.
The Ba`th party, whose Iraqi wing was officially in power until the
fall of Saddam Ḥussein, and whose Syrian wing is still—at the time of
writing—officially in power in Syria, is often regarded as a fascist one.
Founded in Damascus in 1940 by two Lebanese intellectuals, the Ba`th
(Arabic for “rebirth” or “resurrection”) has clearly adopted and embed-
ded in its ideology and practices some of the era’s political fashions. But if
we consider the abandonment of free institutions as one of fascism’s main
aims, then no fascist regime could be established in Iraq or Syria, simply
because these states did not have any such institutions. The Ba`th regimes
can therefore be regarded as authoritarian rather than fascist.91
The only “Arab” state which had free institutions at the time is Lebanon.
Indeed, it is there that we can see the development of genuine local “Arab”
fascism: Lebanon was the cradle of at least one fascist and one Nazi party,
namely the “Falangas” [in Arabic Kataayeb] and the Syrian National
Socialist Party, respectively.92 However, the existence of a fascist move-
ment in one national community does not rule out the existence of such a
movement in its neighbouring community.
The next chapter of this study presents short biographies of the main
figures whose activities make up the bulk of this work. The following eight
chapters are organised thematically, and correspond to Paxton’s nine
mobilising emotions (with the cult of the leader and the belief that the
leader has special instincts combined in one chapter): each chapter reviews
and presents the ways in which the mobilising emotions were reflected in
the writings and the actions of the Hebrew fascist thinkers and activists
20 D. TAMIR
(and occasionally others as well). The closing chapter summarises the

examination whole and presents some conclusions regarding Hebrew fas-
cism in inter-war Palestine.
* * *
Notes
1. Werner Otto von Hentig, Mein Leben: eine Dienstreise (Göttingen:
Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1962), pp. 338–339.
2. Ibid. Before the war, in 1937, Von Hentig discussed with colleagues the
idea of supporting the establishment of a Jewish state in Palestine. Officially,
however, he had to agree with the head of the ministry, who claimed that
a Jewish state is not in Germany’s interest. See Eckart Conze, Norbert
Frei, Peter Hayes & Moshe Zimmermann, Das Amt und die Vergangenheit:
deutsche Diplomaten im dritten Reich und in der Bundesrepublik (München:
Karl Blessing, 2010), p. 110 and notes 110, 111 there.
3. A copy of the suggested agreement is kept at the Jabotinsky Archive in Tel
Aviv. See “Grundlage des Vorschlages der Nationalen Militärischen
Organisation in Palästina (Irgun Zewai Leumi) betreffend der Lösung der
jüdischen Frage Europas und der aktiven Teilnahme der N.M.O. Am
Kriege an der Seite Deutschlands“, JA K-5/4/1.
4. Joseph Heller, The Stern Gang: Ideology, Politics and Terror, 1940–1949
(London: Frank Cass, 1995), “Part Two: The Stern Period”, esp.
pp. 66–76, 94–99.
5. Stanley G. Payne, “Historical Fascism and the Radical Right”, Journal of
Contemporary History 35 (2000), pp. 109–118.
6. David D. Roberts, Fascist Interactions: Proposals for a New Approach to
Fascism and its Era, 1919–1945 (New York: Berghahn, 2016), p. 8.
7. See for instance Wolfgang Schieder, Faschistische Diktaturen: Studien zu
Italien und Deutschland (Göttingen; Wallstein, 2008), p. 251 onwards.
While referring to the differences between the two regimes, Schieder sim-
ply describes National-Socialism as “deutsche Faschismus”.
8. A comparative analysis of Mussolini’s and Hitler’s movements and regimes
based on the sociological categories of Max Weber is Maurizio Bach and
Stefan Breuer’s Faschismus als Bewegung und Regime: Italien und
Deutschland in Vergleich (Wiesbaden: Verlag für Sozialwissenschaften,
2010).
9. Ernst Nolte, Der Faschismus in seiner Epoche (München: Piper & Co.,
1963), p. 31.
10. Zeev Sternhell, Neither Right nor Left: Fascist Ideology in France. Translated
from French by David Maisel (Berkeley: University of California Press,
1986), p. 1.
11. Sternhell, “How to Think about Fascism and its Ideology”, Constellations
15 (2008), pp. 280–290.
12. Sternhell, Neither Right nor Left, p. 27. For a quite supportive discussion
of this Weberian ideal type and its implications, see Roger Griffin,
“Introduction” in Griffin (ed.), International Fascism: Theories, Causes
and the New Consensus (London: Arnold, 1998), pp. 9–10.
13. Sternhell, Neither Right nor Left, p. 27.
14. Zeev Sternhell, Mario Sznajder and Maia Asheri, The Birth of Fascist
Ideology: From Cultural Rebellion to Political Revolution. Translated from
French by David Maisel (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994),
pp. 9–13.
15. Sternhell, Sznajder and Asheri, The Birth of Fascist Ideology, p. 3.
16. Sternhell, Neither Right nor Left, pp. 27; 268–271.
17. David D. Roberts, “How Not to Think about Fascism and Ideology,
Intellectual Antecedents and Historical Meaning”, Journal of Contemporary
History (35) 2000, pp. 185–211.
18. Similarly to Nolte, Renzo de Felice writes that fascism’s reach is limited:
geographically to Europe and temporarily to the era between the two
world wars. Fascism’s roots, he argues, are typically European and well
anchored in the forming process of modern European society. De Felice,
Deutungen des Faschismus (Zürich: Muster-Schmidt, 1980), p. 17.
19. Sven Reichardt, “Neue Wege der vergleichenden Faschismusforschung”,
Mittelweg 36 1/2007, pp. 9–25.
20. See Roger Griffin, Werner Loh and Andreas Umland (eds.), Fascism Past
and Present, West and East: An International Debate on Concepts and Cases
in the Comparative Study of the Extreme Right (Stuttgart: Ibidem, 2006),
especially Griffin’s main article “Fascism’s New Faces (and New
Facelessness) in the ‘Post-fascist’ Epoch” (pp. 29–67) and Sven Reichardt,
“Faschismus—praxeologisch: Ein Kommentar zu Roger Griffin” (pp. 196–
201). In this context, it is not coincidental that the front-cover picture of
that volume depicts the Nazi-imitating banner of Russia’s National-
Bolshevik Party, while an appendix to the volume is a manifest written by
Aleksander Dugin, head of that party.
21. For a collection of articles surveying a wide range of local fascisms around
the world, see Stein Ugelvik Larsen (ed.), Fascism outside Europe: The
European Impulse against Domestic Conditions in the Diffusion of Global
Fascism (Boulder: Social Science Monographs, 2001).
22. Roger Griffin, “Introduction” in Griffin (ed.), International Fascism:
Theories, Causes and the New Consensus, pp. 2–3.
22 D. TAMIR
23. Ibid., p. 11.

24. For reservations referring to the current use of the term, see for instance
Emilio Gentile, “Der Faschismus: eine Definition zur Orientierung“,
Mittelweg 36 1/2007, S. 81–99. Gentile draws attention to the “inflation-
ary use” of the term generic fascism during the last decade.
25. Griffin, “Introduction” in Griffin (ed.), International Fascism: Theories,
Causes and the New Consensus, p. 14.
26. Griffin, The Nature of Fascism (London: St Martin’s Press, 1991), p. 26.
He later developed the model of fascism as a kind of a “palingenetic politi-
cal community”. See Griffin, “The Palingenetic Political Community:
Rethinking the Legitimation of Totalitarian Regimes in Inter-War Europe”,
Totalitarian Movements and Political Religions Vol. 3 No. 3 (Winter
2002), pp. 24–43.
27. Griffin’s “fascist minimum” is probably one of the strongest stimulants of
controversy in the last years. See Andreas Umland, “Refining the concept
of Generic Fascism”, European History Quarterly 39, 2 (2009),
pp. 298–309.
28. Griffin, “Foreword: Il ventennio parafascista? The Past and Future of a
Neologism in Comparative Fascist Studies”, in António Costa Pinto and
Aristotle Kallis (eds.), Rethinking Fascism and Dictatorship in Europe
(Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014), pp. viii–xix. Griffin suggests the
word “parafascism” as a useful term for designating certain regimes and
political forces in inter-war Europe.
29. Roger Eatwell, “New Styles of Dictatorship and Leadership in Interwar
Europe”, Totalitarian Movements and Political Religions Vol. 7 No. 2
(June 2006), pp. 127–137.
30. Roger Eatwell, “The Nature of ‘Generic Fascism’: Complexity and
Reflexive Hybridity”, in Costa Pinto and Kallis (eds.), Rethinking Fascism
and Dictatorship in Europe, pp. 67–86.
31. Michael Mann, Fascists (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004),
p. 13.
32. António Costa Pinto, “Fascism: A ‘Revolutionary Right’ in Interwar
Europe”, in Nicholas Atkin and Michael Biddiss (eds.), Theme is Modern
European History, 1890–1945 (New York: Routledge, 2009),
pp. 215–242.
33. António Costa Pinto and Aristotle Kallis, “Introduction”, in Costa Pinto
and Kallis (eds.), Rethinking Fascism and Dictatorship in Europe, pp. 1–10.
34. Aristotle Kallis, “Neither Fascist nor Authoritarian: The 4th of August
Regime in Greece (1936–1941) and the Dynamics of Fascisation in 1930s
Europe”, East Central Europe 37 (2010), pp. 303–330. The title of the
article clearly hints at “Neither Right nor Left”, Sternhell’s study cited
above.
35. Robert O. Paxton, The Anatomy of Fascism (New York: Knopf, 2004).
36. Ibid. Paxton also suggests an “Evolutionary Model” of fascism, with five
phases: creation of a fascist movement; its taking root; getting the power;
exercising power and an end phase of either radicalisation or decline. Each
fascist movement can be examined and assessed according to its progress
along this evolutionary line.
37. Reichardt, “Neue Wege der vergleichenden Faschismusforschung”.
38. The use of mobilisation as a characteristic of fascist politics may be refer-
enced to Roger Griffin, who based his definition of fascism on the ‘mobilis-
ing “mythic core”‘. See Griffin, “Introduction” in Griffin (ed.),
International Fascism: Theories, Causes and the New Consensus, pp. 13–14.
39. Paxton, ibid., pp. 219–220.
40. For a recent example of such an extremely broad definition of fascism, see
for instance Wolfgang Wippermann, Faschismus: eine Weltgeschichte vom
19. Jahrhundert bis heute (Darmstadt: Primus, 2009). Wippermann builds
a model combining together fascism, fundamentalism and Bonapartism
(pp. 12–13), and therefore brings under his very wide fascist umbrella
more or less every authoritarian ruler or fundamentalist thinker who was
active during the last 200 years: from Louis Bonaparte to Gamal Àbd al-
Nasser, and from Idi Amin to Sayyid Qutub. For an elaborate and thor-
ough critique of the widening use of the terms fascism in general and
Islamofascism particularly, see Roger Griffin, “What Fascism Is Not and Is:
Thoughts on the Re-inflation of the Concept”, Fascism 2 (2013),
pp. 259–261.
41. Paxton, ibid., p. 53. Paxton asserts that “every country with mass politics
had a fledgling fascist movement at some point after 1918”.
42. A lively general introduction for the period is by Tom Segev, One Palestine,
Complete: Jews and Arabs under the British Mandate (London: Abacus,
2001). An account of Tel Aviv can be found at Anat Helman, Young Tel
Aviv: A Tale of Two Cities (Waltham: Brandeis University Press, 2010).
43. A colourful description of British ideas, plans and policies in Palestine (and
the “Middle East” in general) is that of Karl Meyer and Shareen Blair
Brysac, Kingmakers: The Invention of the Modern Middle East (New York:
Norton, 2008), esp. pp. 94–225. For the history of the geographical divi-
sion of Mandate Palestine see Isaiah Friedman, “How Trans-Jordan Was
Severed from the Territory of the Jewish National Home”, Journal of
Israeli History 27 (2008), pp. 65–85.
44. Ze’ev Vladimir Jabotinsky (Odessa, 1880–New York, 1940) was a journal-
ist, a writer, a poet and a politician. His movement borrowed its name from
his call to revise Zionist policies in a more active direction. Attacked by
both the liberal and the socialist factors within the Zionist movement and
considered a trouble maker by the British colonial government, he had to
24 D. TAMIR
go into exile in the early 1930s, working in Paris, London and New York
until his untimely death. There are several comprehensive and favourable
biographies of Jabotinsky, written by his supporters. His first comprehen-
sive biography is probably Joseph B. Schechtman, Rebel and Statesman:
The Vladimir Jabotinsky Story (New York: Thomas Yoseloff, 1956). A more
recent one (originally published in Hebrew in 1993) is Shmuel Katz, Lone
Wolf: a Biography of Vladimir (Ze’ev) Jabotinsky (New York: Barricade
Books, 1996).
45. Colin Shindler, The Triumph of Military Zionism: Nationalism and the
Origins of the Israeli Right (London: Tauris, 2006), pp. 20ff.
46. A clear example thereof is Shlomo Avineri’s chapter about Jabotinsky in his
book The Making of Modern Zionism (New York: Weidenfeld & Nicolson,
1981).
47. Raphaella Bilski Ben-Hur, Every Individual Is a King: The Social and
Political Thought of Zeev Vladimir Jabotinsky (Washington: Bnai Brith,
1993). For a brief account of Jabotinsky’s sympathy or lack of sympathy
towards fascism, see Colin Shindler, The Triumph of Military Zionism:
Nationalism and the Origins of the Israeli Right (London: Tauris, 2006),
pp. 12–14.
(London: Frank Cass, 1985). Heller has also examined the degree of fascist
inclination among the Revisionist right in Israel, coming to the conclusion
it was quite marginal: see Heller, “The failure of Fascism in Jewish Palestine
1925–1948”, in Larsen (ed.), op. cit., pp. 362–392.
49. See for instance J. Bowyer Bell, Terror Out of Zion: Irgun Zvai Leumi, Lehi,
and the Palestine Underground, 1929–1949 (Avon: St Martin’s Press,
1977).
50. See Yaacov Shavit, Jabotinsky and the Revisionist Movement, 1925–1948
(London: Frank Cass, 1988).
51. See, for example, Arie Perliger and Leonard Weinberg, “Jewish Self-
Defence and Terrorist Groups Prior to the Establishment of the State of
Israel: Roots and Traditions”, Totalitarian Movements and Political
Religions Vol. 4 No. 3 (2003), pp. 91–108.
52. The “NMO in Israel” (later called “Israel’s Liberty’s Fighters” and infa-
mously named by the British law enforcement community “The Stern
Gang”) is a good example of it: not only did its membership fluctuate dur-
ing its nine years of activity from 1940 to 1949, but its orientation shifted
as well between support of fascism during the Second World War to sup-
port of Stalin and communism after it. See Heller, The Stern Gang,
pp. 288–292.
53. Heller, “The Failure of Fascism in Jewish Palestine, 1925–1948”.
54. Eran Kaplan, The Jewish Radical Right: Revisionist Zionism and its
Ideological Legacy (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2005).
55. Ibid., pp. xvi–xvii.

56. Ibid., p. xviii.
57. Stanley G. Payne, A History of Fascism, 1914–1945 (Madison: University of
Wisconsin Press, 1995), p. 11.
58. Griffin, “From Slime Mould to Rhizome: An Introduction to the
Groupuscular Right”, Patterns of Prejudice 37 (2003), pp. 27–50.
59. For Network theory and its implementation, see for instance Robert
A. Hanneman and Mark Riddle, Introduction to Social Network Methods
(Riverside: University of California Press, 2005).
60. Aba Gaissinowitsch, Bemerkungen zu Spenglers Auffassung Russlands.
Inaugural-Dissertation zur Erlangung der philosophischen Doktorwürde
vorgelegt der philosophischen Fakultät der Wiener Universität (Vienna,
1924). See also his biography in the next chapter.
61. Jabotinsky’s letter to the editors of Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 17.5.1933. JA,
2/23/1.-A1
62. Itamar Ben Avi, “Mussolini”, Do’ar ha-Yom, 02.11.1922.
63. Ben Avi, “Jabotinsky in our Land”, Do’ar ha-Yom, 7.10.1928.
64. Wolfgang von Weisl’s letter to Jabotinsky, 20.1.1927. JA, A1-15/3
65. Von Weisl’s letter to Raven Thomson (no exact date, sometime during
1935), JA, P-3/87.
66. See Abraham Cordoba, “‘Inŧeleqŧualim le-lo’ Pšarä ba-Ḥ ayim ha-Poliŧiyim:
ha-Miqre šel Brit ha-Biryonim” [Uncompromising Intellectuals in Political
Life: the Case of Brit ha-Biryonim], in: Pinḥas Ginosar (ed.), Ha-Sifrut
ha-Ìbrit v-Tnuàt ha-Àboda [“The Hebrew Literature and the Labour
Movement”] (Beer Sheba: Ben Gurion University Press, 1989),
pp. 224–242.
67. See for instance the NMO’s anthem, “Unknown Soldiers” [Heb.: Ḥ ayalim
‘Almonim”]: “Unknown soldiers we are, uniforms we lack, surrounded by
horror and the shadow of death/we’ve all been conscripted for our entire
lives, we shall be dismissed only by death… with the tears of the mothers
bereaved from their sons and the blood of infants so pure/we shall stick
corpses together like with cement—and so our homeland would endure…”.
Stern wrote the poem already in the beginning of the 1930s, before quit-
ting the relatively moderate National Military Organisation (NMO) and
establishing the “NMO in Israel”. The draft agreement between the NMO
in Israel and Italy and Germany can be found at the JA, K5-1/4/33. See
a wider discussion about the document in the concluding chapter.
68. Copies of the proposed treaties with Italy and Germany are kept at the JA,
K5. The draft of the contract with Italy bears the date 15.9.1940; the
document discussing a possible alliance with Germany was delivered to
Von Hentig or another German diplomat in January 1941 in Beirut, and
arrived on 18.1.1941 to the German embassy in Ankara.
26 D. TAMIR
69. For the origin of the term “Hebrew”, see Nadav Na‘aman, “Habiru and
Hebrews: The Transfer of a Social Term to the Literary Sphere”, Journal
of Near Eastern Studies 45 (1986), pp. 271–288.
70. For a basic introduction to the subject, see Itamar Even-Zohar, “Who Is
Afraid of Hebrew Culture?”, in Even Zohar (ed.), Papers in Culture
Research (Tel Aviv: The Porter Chair of Semiotics at the Tel Aviv University,
2005), pp. 160–172; Itamar Even-Zohar, “The Emergence of a Native
Hebrew Culture in Palestine: 1882–1948, Studies in Zionism 4 (1981),
pp. 167–184; Tamar Liebes and Zohar Kampf, “‘Hello! This is Jerusalem
Calling!’: The Revival of Spoken Hebrew on the Mandatory Radio (1936–
1948)”, Journal of Israeli History 29 (2010), pp. 137–158.
71. Furthermore, one may argue that since Judaism considers the Almighty,
and not any manmade leader or social construct, as the supreme authority,
a fascist cannot be Jewish and vice versa.
72. Uri Ram, “Historiosophical Foundations of the Historical Strife in Israel”,
Journal of Israeli History 20 (2001), pp. 43–61. For the anti-religious sen-
timents among Labour-Zionists, see also Amos Elon, The Israelis: Founders
and Sons (New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 1971), pp. 328–330.
73. See for instance Nadav Shelef, Evolving Nationalism: Homeland, Identity
and Religion in Israel, 1925–2005 (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2010),
pp. 122–123, and Jabotinsky’s letter to Ben Gurion from May 1935, cited
there.
74. See Alberto Bianco, “Les sionistes révisionnistes et l’Italie: histoire d’une
amitié très discrète (1932–1938)”, Bulletin du centre de recherche français
de Jérusalem 13 (2003), pp. 22–45.
75. For a detailed discussion of Gurevicz’s rejection of Judaism, see Aharon
Amir, “Ḥ oron b-Èrec h-‘Ibrim”, in Qedem v-Èreb: Knaàn - Toldot ‘Erec
h-Ìibrim [“East and West: A History of Canaan and the Land of the
Hebrews”] (Tel Aviv Dbir, 2000), pp. 17–27.
76. Boas Evron sharply refers to the issue of “Holy Land versus Home Land”
in Jewish State or Israeli Nation (Bloomington: Indiana University Press,
1995), pp. 115–132.
77. See Friedman, op. cit.
78. See, for instance, Moshe Arens, “Palestinian Dream of Statehood Further
Away than Ever”, Ha-’Aretz, 1.12.2009 (on the web: http://www.
haaretz.com/print-edition/opinion/moshe-arens-palestinian-dream-of-
statehood-further-away-than-ever-1.3066). For a review and analysis of
the Revisionist movement’s evolving definition of Israel’s borders see
Shelef, ibid., pp. 1–7. See also Colin Shindler, “Likud and the Search for
Eretz Israel: from the Bible to the Twenty-First Century”, Israel Affairs 8
(2001), pp. 91–117.
79. Different interpretations of nationalism can also compete within a national

community. For the Israeli case, see Shelef, ibid., pp. 81–106. For a review
of both the global phenomenon and the specific Israeli case, see also Joseph
Agassi, Liberal Nationalism for Israel: Towards an Israeli National Identity
(Jerusalem: Gefen, 1998).
80. For a recent research about the New Guard in Australia, see Richard Evans,
“‘A Menace to this Realm’: The New Guard and the New South Wales
Police, 1931–1932”, History Australia 5 (2008), pp. 1–20.
81. A basic review of the relations between Revisionist Zionists and Fascist
Italy is given by Vincenzo Pinto, “Between Imago and Res: The Revisionist-
Zionist Movement’s Relationship with Fascist Italy 1922–1938”, Israel
Affairs Vol. 10 No. 3 (Spring 2004), pp. 90–109.
82. Carlo Moos, “Der späte italienische Faschismus und die Juden.
Hintergründe und Folgen einer rassenpolitischen Wende”, Themenportal
Europäische Geschichte www.europa.clio-online.de, 22.02.2008.
83. Payne, A History of Fascism, 1914–1945, p. 11.
84. Carlo Moos, Ausgrenzung, Internierung, Deportation: Antisemitismus und
Gewalt in späten italienischen Faschismus (Zürich: Chronos, 2004), p. 39.
85. Roberto Farinacci’s address is cited by Moos, ibid., p. 15.
86. Zwi Kolitz, Mussolini: His Personality and Doctrine [Mussolini: ‘Išijuto ve-
Torato] (Tel Aviv: Tebel, 1936), p. 5.
87. Moos, ibid., pp. 31–32.
88. George Fredrickson, Racism: A Short History (Princeton: Princeton
University Press, 2002), p. 3.
89. On Japanese, Chinese and Arab fascisms, see the articles of Gregory Kasza,
William Kirby and Haggai Erlich in Larsen, op. cit.
90. Recent research about this issue includes Renate Dietrich, “Germany’s
Relations with Iraq and Transjordan from the Weimar Republic to the End
of the Second World War”, Middle Eastern Studies Vol. 41 No. 4 (July
2005), pp. 463–479. See also Klaus-Michael Mallmann und Martin
Cüppers, Halbmond und Hakenkreuz: Das Dritte Reich, die Araber und
Palästina (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 2006).
91. See Paxton, op. cit., p. 300.
92. Next to the party’s updated website (www.ssnp.com). See also Goetz
Nordbruch, Nazism in Syria and Lebanon: The Ambivalence of the German
Option, 1933–1945 (London, Routledge, 2009) and Nordbruch,
“Defending the French Revolution during World War II: Raif Khoury and
the Intellectual Challenge of Nazism in the Levant”, Mediterranean
Historical Review Vol. 21 No. 2 (December 2006), pp. 219–238.
CHAPTER 2
Individuals Making a Movement: Short

Biographies of Prominent Proponents
of Hebrew Fascism
Itamar Ben Avi

The first-born son of Elièzer Ben Yehuda came to the world in Jerusalem,
in August 1885.1 By that time his father was already a well-known—and
very controversial—public figure. During the first decades after his
migration to Israel he was hated, despised and even attacked by religious
circles in Jerusalem. Later Zionist historiography mainly describes Elièzer
Ben Yehuda as the resuscitator of the Hebrew language. This designation
is true, but incomplete, for while he had a huge quantitative contribution
to the development of the modern Hebrew language (in his articles, his
newspapers and his dictionary), just as important was his qualitative politi-
cal contribution: Ben Yehuda was the first who not only wrote in Hebrew,
but also made it a vernacular language, binding it to a defined country and
declaring it to be the cornerstone of a new Hebrew nation.
Itamar, therefore, grew up in a highly politicised environment; until his
dying day he declared his desire to continue his father’s enterprise. Apart
from Hebrew, the language in which his father talked with him, he also
learned Arabic and French (and probably also some Russian, from his
mother). After acquiring his basic education in Jerusalem, he first studied
at the pedagogical seminar in Paris, then from 1904 to 1908 in the faculty
of humanities at the Humboldt University in Berlin. Upon his return to
Jerusalem, before the First World War, he became co-editor, together with
his father, of the newspapers Ha-Zwi and Ha-’Or. At that time he also
began to contemplate writing Hebrew using the Latin alphabet.2

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-73679-2_2
30 D. TAMIR
Ben Avi’s sympathy towards France caused him trouble during the
Great War. He had to leave the country; in Egypt he met Ze’ev Jabotinsky,
who was then organising the Hebrew battalions to take part in the war as
part of the British army. The friendship between the two journalists lasted
more than a decade; in 1928 Jabotinsky became the editor of Do’ar ha-
Yom. In 1917 Ben Avi took part in the “Congress of Oppressed Peoples”
organised by Masaryk in Philadelphia; in 1919 he was a member of the
Zionist delegation to Versailles and the liaison person between Arab dig-
nitaries and the Zionist leadership. The same year he established Do’ar
ha-Yom (which he also edited until 1933). Do’ar ha-Yom was not the first
Hebrew daily newspaper, but probably the first commercial Hebrew daily;
some would say “the first Hebrew tabloid”. At the same time, Ben Avi was
writing for the British Daily Mail and The Times of London.
From 1924 on Ben Avi was the editor of the Palestine Weekly, an
English weekly which was published in Jerusalem. In 1928 and 1934 he
tried to publish two newspapers in Latin script; both attempts failed.3
During those years Ben Avi was president of the Hebrew-Italian Club4
and maintained close relations with Italian officials.
The failures of his Latin newspapers brought him to bankruptcy, and in
1939 he had to abandon his journalistic work. He took the job offered to
him as a delegate of the Zionist “Jewish National Fund” in North America,
where he died after a severe heart attack in 1943.
Wolfgang Von Weisl

“I came to this world 75 years ago, on 27 March, 1896, at 03:00 o’clock
in the morning, in Breitegasse, on the 7th district of Vienna”—so described
Wolfgang Benjamin Ze’ev Von Weisl the exact beginning of his life.5 His
father, Ernst, was not only the deputy military attorney general, but also a
devoted Zionist activist, personally acquainted with Theodor Herzl.
In high school, young Von Weisl was apparently “a lazy student”, who
did not want to study Hebrew, English or French. This did not prevent
him, however, from learning all these languages by himself. He soon
entered the faculty of medicine at the University of Vienna, but with the
outbreak of the First World War Von Weisl left his studies and joined the
army. He was assigned to be a medical aide. “But I wanted to fight”, he
writes; soon he was assigned to the field artillery regiment Graf von
Geldern-Egmont Nr. 2, in which he fought on the Russian and Italian
fronts.
INDIVIDUALS MAKING A MOVEMENT: SHORT BIOGRAPHIES… 31
Von Weisl graduated in 1921, and then began travelling. “In July 1922
I landed in Jaffa”, he recalled in his memoirs. Traversing the country on
foot, he did not work as a physician but as a correspondent for German
newspapers, a teacher and an accountant (at a hospital in Jerusalem, where
he did not tell the director what his true academic training was).
In 1923 Von Weisl became chief instructor of the Hagana’s first offi-
cers’ course, in Tel Yosef. At that time Von Weisl was a member of the
“Mizraḥi”, a moderate bourgeois religious Zionist faction. In 1925, how-
ever, he joined Ze’ev Jabotinsky, and became one of the founding mem-
bers of the Revisionist movement.
The riots of August 1929 caught Von Weisl in Jerusalem; as he
approached one of the leaders of the riots with the aim of interviewing
him, he was stabbed by a person from the crowd. Although severely
injured, he soon recovered and was able to give a long and detailed testi-
mony to the British investigation committee. Apart from supplying arti-
cles and reports to the German press, Von Weisl was one of the editors of
Do’ar ha-Yom; after the Revisionists got into a bitter dispute with Ben Avi,
however, he was one of the founders of the Revisionist daily newspaper
Ha-Àm, in 1930. For the following 17 years Von Weisl was a senior edi-
tor, reporter and columnist in Ha-Àm, Ha-Yarden and Ha-Mašqif.
In Autumn 1931 Von Weisl returned to Vienna, in order to organise
and strengthen the Revisionist party in Europe. In 1935, again as a close
associate of Jabotinsky, he was one of the founders of the New Zionist
Organisation. In March 1938—already married and with two children—
he fled Vienna for Paris, where he continued his Zionist activity. He left
France and came back to Palestine with his wife and children in June 1940.
After the death of Jabotinsky that year, Von Weisl became de facto head of
Revisionist institutions; in this capacity he was a clear advocate for a halt to
the actions against the British mandate during the Second World War.
After the war ended, however, he was arrested together with many
other prominent Zionist leaders in June 1946 (in “Operation Agatha”,
also known as “Black Saturday”). In protest, Von Weisl declared a 28-day
hunger strike. Stubborn as a mule, he continued the strike for the entire
period planned, even after he was released from detention.
After the 1948 war (in which he fought again as an artillery officer, this
time on the Egyptian front) Von Weisl began to move away from political
activity within the Revisionist movement, which was by then unequivo-
cally dominated by Menaḥem Begin. He approached liberal circles and
concentrated on his work as a physician. He died on 24 February 1974.
32 D. TAMIR
Von Weisl was a prolific writer: in addition to a dozen books he

published hundreds of articles and reports in German and Hebrew in
various fields: politics, economics, medicine, psychology and religion. His
letters and manuscripts are stored today at the Jabotinsky Archive and
with his family.
Abba Aḥime’ir
Abba Gaissinowitsch was born in November 1897 in the village of Dolhi,
near the city of Bobruisk, in White Russia, to which he moved with his
family eight years later. As a child, he had a private teacher who taught him
both religious texts and Hebrew; in Bobruisk he studied in a modern reli-
gious elementary school. At the age of 10 he entered the Russian high
school in town, and in 1912, aged 15, he was sent—by himself—to
Palestine, to study at the Hebrew Gymnasium in Tel Aviv.6
The First World War, which broke out during his summer vacation in
1914, prevented him from returning to Palestine. He stayed in White
Russia and joined a local Zionist organisation. In 1918 he graduated from
the local Russian gymnasium in a town near Bobruisk (“I was weak in
mathematics, but excellent in history, geography and Russian literature”,
he told his children later). In the Autumn of that year he was arrested for
the first time, after he got into a quarrel with the commander of the local
Soviet police force. A few months later he entered the University of Kiev.
Parallel to his academic studies, he worked as a reporter for the local Soviet
newspaper, “Izwestia”.
In April 1919, his young brother, Me’ir, fell in action while serving as
a Red Army officer in the battle of Lida, against the Polish army.
Gaissinowitsch then changed his name to Aḥime’ir, literally: “Me’ir’s
Brother”.7
In 1920 Aḥime’ir fled Russia and travelled to Belgium. He enrolled at
the University of Liège. In 1921 he moved to Vienna, and continued his
studies there. He became close to the socialist circles of the town; it is
there that he first met Ze’ev Jabotinsky. In 1924 he submitted his PhD
thesis: a critique of Oswald Spengler’s perception of Russian history in his
book Decline of the West.8 He then returned to Palestine.
In Palestine, Aḥime’ir joined the “Young Worker” party. Using his
journalistic experience, he began writing in Hebrew for the party’s news-
paper (also called “The Young Worker”, Ha-Poèl ha-Tzaìr), the socialist
newspaper Dabar and the liberal Ha-‘Aretz. He also worked as a labourer
in Zikron Yaàqob, Kabara, Nahalal and Geba`.
The ideological shift in Aḥime’ir’s views was probably gradual—a pro-

cess of disappointment which began by witnessing Bolshevik violence, and
continued through his close encounter with socialist circles in Palestine.
That way or another, in 1928 he joined Jabotinsky’s Revisionist move-
ment. He soon became a central activist in the movement.
In 1930 Aḥime’ir founded—together with Joshua Yevin and Uri Zwi
Grünberg—the movement called “Brit ha-Biryonim” (in English: “The
Zealots’ Alliance”), which is often considered as the first anti-British
movement in Palestine.
From that year on, Aḥime’ir became a target of the British police. In
October 1930 he was jailed after organising a demonstration in Tel Aviv
against the visit of Drummond Shiels, the Under-Secretary of State for the
Colonies; in July 1931 he was arrested for inciting public opposition to
the population census; in February 1932 he was arrested again during the
violent protest against Brit Šalom and the “Chair for International Peace”
at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem. At the same time he was one of the
editors of Ḥ azit ha-Àm.
As a “usual suspect”, Aḥime’ir was arrested again in August 1933: the
police suggested that he was involved in the murder of the socialist leader
(and ex-companion of Aḥime’ir in Ha-Poèl Ha-Tzaìr) Ḥ ayim Arlosoroff.
In May 1934 he was acquitted of all charges, but in June the same year he
was tried for leading an “illegal organisation”, Brit ha-Biryonim. Aḥime’ir
was found guilty and sentenced to 21 months imprisonment. He was
released in August 1935.
After his release, Aḥime’ir wrote mostly for Ha-Mašqif, the official
newspaper of the Revisionist movement. In 1938, however, after the first
violent actions of the National Military Organisation, Aḥime’ir was
arrested again, and stayed in prison for three months. Upon his release he
moved to Lebanon, and then to Greece and Poland; he returned to Israel
only after the outbreak of the Second World War. Aḥime’ir stayed in
Palestine during the war; both his parents were murdered by the Nazis.
In 1946 Aḥime’ir published his first book, “A Report by a Sitting
Person”, describing his experiences during the months he spent in jail.9 In
1951 he became a member of the editorial board of the Hebrew
Encyclopaedia. He published two more books: With the Rooster’s Cry
(1957), containing historical and political essays, and Judaica (1960),
which is a collection of articles and essays on Jewish issues. Aḥime’ir died
in Tel Aviv in June 1962, after a sudden heart attack, at the age of 65.10
34 D. TAMIR
Joshua Yevin
Joshua Heschel Yevin was born in 1891 in Winnyzja, a city in Podolia
(today a part of Ukraine).11 His parents died when he was four and he then
moved to live with his grandmother. Yevin first received a traditional reli-
gious education and then went to the Hebrew gymnasium in Vilnius.12 He
continued his education at the University of Moscow, where he studied
medicine. During the First World War Yevin was recruited to the Russian
army, where he served as a military physician. The horrors he witnessed in
the front resonated later in his writings.
After the war, in 1919, he returned to Vilnius and in 1922 he migrated
to Berlin. By that time he had ceased to work as a physician and concen-
trated on journalistic writing and translations of literary and philosophical
writings into Hebrew. In Berlin he also got married; a year after his arrival
there his first son was born. The family came to Palestine in 1924; like
Aḥime’ir, he was affiliated with the worker’s party and worked as a teacher
in the Galilee and the Yizraèl valley. His second son was born in 1926; in
1928, however, his disappointment with socialist Zionism (and maybe
also with the difficult economic situation in Palestine) made him leave the
country and return to Berlin.
In 1930 Yevin returned to Tel Aviv and became a member of the edito-
rial board of Ha-Àm. Together with Grünberg and Aḥime’ir he founded
the anti-British organisation Brit ha-Biryonim (the three remained close
friends all their lives).
The murder of Arlosoroff in June 1933 provided a good excuse for the
British authorities to commence a legitimate assault on that organisation.
While Grünberg was abroad and Aḥime’ir charged with murder (a charge
from which he was fully acquitted), Yevin was sentenced to four months in
prison for taking part in an “illegal organisation” (Aḥime’ir was incarcer-
ated for about a year for leading the organisation).
Upon his release from prison, in 1934, Yevin joined the board of
Ha-Yarden, Ḥ azit ha-Àm’s heir. Brit ha-Biryonim ceased to exist, but the
trio Yevin-Grünberg-Aḥime’ir continued to act politically within the
Revisionist movement under the name “Faction of Accusation and Faith”
[“Siàt ha-Qiŧrug v-ha-’Emuna”], which regarded itself as the extremist
activist marker within the Revisionist movement.
During the following decades Yevin continued to translate literature
and write for various Revisionist newspapers and periodicals. He passed
away in April 1970 in Tel Aviv, aged 79.
Uri Zwi Grünberg

Grünberg was born in 1896 in East Galicia, to a religious Ḥ assidic family.
His family moved to Lemberg when he was a child. He received both a
religious and general education. In Lemberg, he also began to write
poems—both in Hebrew and in Yiddish. Being an Austrian subject, he was
recruited to the imperial army at the age of 18, and with the outbreak of
the First World War was sent to the front in the Balkans. In the aftermath
of the war, a pogrom was made on the Jews in Lemberg; while his close
family was not hurt, the event probably traumatised the young poet deeply.
In 1920, Grünberg moved to Warsaw; some poems in which he blamed
Christianity for crimes committed against Jews made him persona non
grata there; he left for Berlin in 1922.13
Grünberg migrated to Palestine in December 1923. At first he was
close to socialist circles, where his poems about rural national revival were
admired by agricultural Zionist pioneers. Soon, however, he began to
criticise what he saw as too mild politics of the Zionist leadership vis-à-vis
the attacks of Arab nationalists. In January 1928 he left “Ha-Poèl ha-
Tzaìr”, like Aḥime’ir, and joined the revisionist Zionist movement, writ-
ing in its newspapers—first Do‘ar ha-Yom, and then Ha-Àm and Ḥ azit
ha-Àm. During the 1920s and 1930s he was also an active member of the
revisionist movement, holding various posts in its institutions.
In October 1931, in response to the 1929 massacres and the 1931
“White Paper”, Grünberg joined Aḥime’ir and Yevin in founding Brit ha-
Biryonim; Grünberg gave it its name. During the first years after the dis-
persion of the organisation, Grünberg returned to Warsaw as an official
delegate of the revisionist movement, with the task of recruiting activists
and collecting funds for its activities. He managed to escape Poland shortly
after the outbreak of the Second World War. His parents and siblings were
murdered by the Nazis.
Between 1939 and 1945 he did not publish any new works. However,
his earlier poems of blood and fire, calling for political action, gave the
inspiration for many people—the best-known among them is probably
Abraham Stern. After the war, Grünberg returned to writing and took an
active part in politics: he was a member of the Knesset and regularly
published both poems and prose in various newspapers and periodicals.
He died in May 1981, and was buried in Jerusalem.
36 D. TAMIR
Abraham Stern (“Ya’ir”)

“His height is less than average—172 cm; his eyes: sunk and brown; his
nose: long; his forehead is high, his ears are large and his hair is black”.
This was the description of Abraham Stern by the Palestine Police, in an
ad published in local newspapers on 30 January 1942. A reward of £1000
was promised to anyone who could “provide information which will lead
to his arrest”14 (an average daily wage of an industry worker in Palestine at
the time was about £0.46).15
Abraham Stern was born in December 1907 in Suwalki, in northeast-
ern Poland. His father was a dentist; his mother was a midwife.16
Soon after the beginning of the Great War the area was conquered by
the German army; the family moved to live with relatives on the Russian
side of the front. In 1917 he went to a Russian high school, but in 1921
he returned to Suwalki, where he continued his studies in a Hebrew
school. In 1926 Stern migrated to Palestine, and the following year he
graduated from the Hebrew Gymnasium in Jerusalem.
Stern began his academic studies at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem,
in Autumn 1927; he studied literature, history, Greek and Latin. He
graduated in 1932 and passed the final exams “brilliantly”,17 after receiv-
ing several prizes (in the total sum of £67) for his academic achievements.18
He then travelled to Florence, where he studied at the local university
during the academic year 1933–34 “con assiduità e diligenza”.19
In Jerusalem, Stern also joined the Hagana, the Hebrew armed force.
He took part in the fighting during the riots in August 1929, together
with David Razie’l, under the command of Abraham Tehomi.
At the Hebrew University he also began his political career. In 1930 he
established the “Ḥ ulda” students club.20 Disappointed by what he per-
ceived as a compromising attitude of the official Zionist leadership towards
Arab attacks, he was one of the young students who, led by Abraham
Tehomi, seceded from the general Hagana military organisation and
founded the National Military Organisation (NMO) that same year.
But Italy was not the land of classics only. Italy was also the land of
risorgimento, of Mazzini and Garibaldi. After about a year of studies at the
University of Florence, in 1933, Stern decided to quit university and
devote himself to political activity. He then adopted the underground
name “Ya’ir”, a tribute to Elàzar Ben Ya’ir, the uncompromising leader of
the zealots who fought to the death during the Hebrew rebellion against
the Roman Empire during the first century ce.21 He then became the pur-
chasing agent of the NMO, buying weapons (first in Italy and then in
Poland) and smuggling them to his comrades in Palestine.
Stern’s political involvement developed in two parallel paths. On the
practical military path, he became a member of the NMO’s leadership,
together with Abraham Tehomi, Ḥ anok Qalì, David Razi’el and Benjamin
Zeròni. Ideologically, he became closer to two prominent poets:
Grünberg—whose poems he admired—and Uri’el Halperin. While the
poems of the first influenced Stern’s style of writing, his acquaintance with
the latter played an important role in shaping his political world view:
through Halperin, Stern became familiar with the ideas of Adolf Gurevicz,
who preached the abandonment of Judaism for the sake of founding a new
Hebrew nation.
In 1937, after the outbreak of the Arab Rebellion, while serving as the
staff secretary of the NMO, Stern (who meanwhile became married) opposed
the attempt to reunify the Organisation with the Hagana. He maintained
that the NMO should stay independent and retaliate with violence rather
than acquiesce with the official Zionist policy of “self-restraint”.22
This activist, non-compromising trend continued and acquired even
stronger momentum two years later, with the breakout of the Second
World War. The High Command of the NMO decided to suspend its
armed struggle and declared an armistice with the British government in
order to help the war effort against Nazi Germany. Stern, on the other
hand, was already convinced that the war against the British mandate
regime was crucial. This time, however, Stern found himself leading only
a minority of NMO members.23
The new secessionist group claimed to be the “real” NMO, naming
itself the “National Military Organisation in Israel” (later, after Stern’s
murder, it adopted the name “Israel’s Freedom Fighters”). The small
group began a series of attacks on British military forces and officers. To
finance their activities (i.e. buying weapons and ammunition and sustaining
the activists who had to go underground) it collected donations and became
engaged in “cash confiscations”—a polite name for robberies of banks and
shops. For recruiting more activists and delivering its messages it published
leaflets and also operated a small radio station in the centre of Tel Aviv.
However, although Stern enjoyed great popularity among his follow-
ers, his isolation within the Hebrew community, together with economic
difficulties and the constant inspection by the British police weakened his
leadership. Members of the NMO in Israel began to contest it. After a few
38 D. TAMIR
successful assassinations of British officers, the British police managed to

eliminate or arrest most of its commanders during 1941. Stern himself
managed to hide for a few more months under a false identity, until on 12
February 1942 he was tracked down to an apartment in southern Tel Aviv.
Stern, who was not armed, was arrested; a few minutes later he was shot,
allegedly because he was trying to escape. His funeral was held the same
evening. His son, named Ya’ir after his father, was born four months
later.24
* * *
Notes
1. Itamar Ben-Avi, Im Shahar Atzmautenu [“In the Dawn of our
Independence”]: Memoirs of the First Hebrew Child (Jerusalem: The Public
Committee for the Publishing of Itamar Ben Avi’s Writings, 1961), p. 6.
2. Although his memoirs should be taken with a grain of salt, it is not improb-
able that Ben Avi indeed met Mustafa Kemal when the latter was stationed
as an Ottoman officer in Jerusalem, before the War. In his autobiography,
he tries to show how “great minds think alike”, hinting that his idea to
write Hebrew in Latin letters inspired the Ottoman officer to do the same
in Turkey about 15 years later. For a lively description of this Araq satu-
rated conversation see ibid., pp. 213–218.
3. For a recent comparative study of the Latinisation attempts of Turkish and
Hebrew (a success in the former and the failure—so far—of the latter), see
̇
Ilker Aytürk, “Script Charisma in Hebrew and Turkish: A Comparative
Framework for Explaining Success and Failure of Romanization”, Journal
of World History Vol. 21 No. 1 (2001), pp. 97–130.
4. Ben-Avi, Im Shahar Atzmautenu., pp. 500–504.
5. Editorial, “Das war Wolfgang von Weisl”, Schalom: Zeitschrift der öster-
reichisch-israelischen Gesellschaft, April 1974, pp. 4–7. The journal pub-
lished a few excerpts from Von Weisl’s unpublished autobiography a few
weeks after his death.
6. The details in Aḥime’ir’s biography are taken from his papers at the
Jabotinsky Archive, JA P-5/1/1.
7. Aḥime’ir continued to use his old family name occasionally, in official mat-
ters, until his return to Israel in 1924.
8. Abba Gaissinowitsch, Bemerkungen zu Spenglers Auffassung Russlands.
Inaugural-Dissertation zur Erlangung der philosophischen Doktorwürde
vorgelegt der philosophischen Fakultät der Wiener Universität (Vienna,
1924). A copy of the Dissertation is kept at “Beyt Abba” in Ramat Gan. I
would like to thank his son, Yossi Aḥime’ir, for allowing me to search
through the family’s private archive.
9. The Hebrew name [“‫ ]”הבישי רוחב לש ה’זטרופר‬makes a witty joke: “Baḥur
Yešiba”—literally “a man of sitting”—is the common nickname for a stu-
dent in a rabbinical religious seminar.
10. Biography of Abba Aḥime’ir, JA P-5/1/1.
11. Joseph Aḥime’ir and Shmuel Shatzky, Brit Ha-Biryonim: The First Anti-
British Organisation. Documents and Evidences (Tel Aviv: Nicanim, 1978),
p. 40.
12. Yevin knew large parts of the Bible by heart, and regularly used biblical
citations and idioms in his articles. In 1959, aged 68, he won the National
Bible Contest.
13. Joseph Aḥime’ir and Shmuel Shatzky, op. cit., p. 33.
14. The ads of the police were published in several daily newspapers. See for
instance Ha-Boqer, 30.1.1942. Copies of the ads are kept at CZA
A549\14-3.
15. J. Shaw et al., “Basic Daily Wage Rates for Jewish Labourers in Certain
Selected Industrial Occupations”, A Survey of Palestine: Prepared in
December 1945 and January 1946 for the Information of the Anglo-
American Committee of Inquiry (Jerusalem: Government Printer, 1946),
p. 736.
16. Israel Eldad, “Preface: The Poem of his Life”, in In My Blood, Forever Live!
Poems, Articles, Letters (Tel Aviv: Ya’ir, 2002), p. 7. The book’s name is
taken from one of Stern’s poems (which is itself a paraphrase on Ezekiel 16,
6: “And when I passed by thee, and saw thee polluted in thine own blood,
I said unto thee when thou wast in thy blood, Live; yea, I said unto thee
when thou wast in thy blood, Live!”). Eldad was the Supreme Commander
of the ILF after Stern’s murder.
17. A letter from Dr D. Tscherikover to the University of Florence, 5.1.1934.
CZA A549\16-6.
18. Certificate of the Registrar’s Office of the Hebrew University, 14.5.1933.
CZA A549\16-12.
19. Certificato No. 18775, Università degli studi di Firenze, facoltà di lettere
e filosofia, Florence, 19.6.1934. CZA A549\16.
20. The club was named after a Hebrew village in the Judean hills, whose
inhabitants fought against the Bedouins who attacked them in August
1929. Stern himself was stationed in Jerusalem during the riots. See his
Biography, JA K5-7/1.
21. Eldad, ibid., p. 8.
22. About a third of the NMO activists indeed rejoined the Hagana. Both the
reasons for the founding of the NMO in 1930 and the first split among its
ranks in 1937 became later a matter of dispute between the founders:
Tehomi—who initiated the reunion—on the one hand, and Rosenberg
40 D. TAMIR
and Halperin on the other. JA K4-1/11. It is clear, however, that Stern led
the uncompromising line.
23. For a detailed description of the process which led to the second split of
the NMO and the ideological and practical disputes between Stern and the
NMO’s leader David Razi’el, see Joseph Heller, The Stern Gang (London:
Frank Cass, 1995), pp. 61–64.
24. Ibid., pp. 95–100.
CHAPTER 3
Facing an Unprecedented Disaster
In his portrait of Mussolini, published a few days after the Fascist seizure
of power, Itamar Ben Avi saw the new Italian government as the one
which could pave Italy’s way out of a deep political crisis. According to
Ben Avi, what Mussolini wanted in those days was “to impose upon Italy
an iron discipline and a central authority, so it could march towards its
glamorous future without any internal turmoil”. He asserted that “the fact
that in Rome, Florence, Milano, Turin, Naples and all other Italian cities
Mussolini and his soldiers [sic!] were greeted as liberators and saviors in
time of crisis, is probably the best evidence for the necessity of the ‘fascist’
movement in Italy at this very moment”.1
Ben Avi also explained to his readers what the roots of that crisis were.
He remarked that Mussolini’s first supporters were those “disappointed
by the Italian extreme communism and Bolshevism”, the latter having
already “raised its dragon-head all over Italy”. Confronted with this
dragon, Mussolini “had a real aim—rescuing young Italy from the turmoil
of war and the misdeeds of extreme Bolshevism”. Pointing exactly to what
he sees as a possible precedent, Ben Avi explained that the state of the
Italians is
not similar to that of Germany or to England. These peoples of the South

are very similar to the Russians, and without a “mighty hand” among them,
a civil war would erupt among them, with all its horrors and Bolshevist
terror. Mussolini aims at saving it from this possibility….2

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-73679-2_3
42 D. TAMIR
A report by Ḥ ayim Vardi, Do’ar ha-Yom’s reporter in Rome, went in a

similar vein. Vardi described Italy’s internal situation as
a totally depressing one. Moscow’s emissaries do in it [Italy] as if it was their

own, to their heart’s desire, and the frequent strikes—for the most ridicu-
lous reasons—caused a terrible economic decline. Evidently, those were
mostly the petits bourgeois who suffered from that, these poor horses who
carry the whole kingdom’s weight on their backs, and are beaten—both by
the dukes of money and by the admirers of labour.3
It should be noted that Do’ar ha-Yom’s and Ben Avi’s animosity towards
Bolshevism were evident not only in the Italian context. “The Bolshevists
rule for five years already”, wrote the newspaper that same month, in an
article marking the Russian revolution’s fifth anniversary. Ben Avi claimed
that the Bolshevists won the battle in Russia, as they had found the secret
of lasting power. They
understood that every regime is based on cruelty and coercion, on sheer

force. And if such is the case in other countries, then in sinister and remote
Russia all the more so. Foggy, quivering Russia has not yet discovered the
splendor of human value… The strongest person dominates… The destruc-
tion of life becomes ever deeper: inwards and outwards, body and soul.4
Interesting, however, is the contrast between Ben Avi’s enthusiasm

towards the new “savior” and his disappointment of those who were simi-
larly seen as such saviors just five years earlier. It seems that Ben Avi, the
convinced liberal, was not necessarily opposing Bolshevist ideology, but
was rather disappointed at the Bolshevists’ conduct, because
these people, these rulers, even these revolutionaries among them, who
were breaking in and bursting out, became conservative… This is the way of
the world, and this is the nature of rulers: the open eyes get blind, the beat-
ing heart becomes dumb, and they walk along the same old and winding
road they had previously attacked, before they came to power.5
The rapidly changing stances of conservatives, liberals and socialists were

clear to Abba Aḥime’ir too, a few years later. “For a long time, nationalism
was part and parcel of conservative thought”, he wrote in 1926 (while still
a member of the moderate socialist party Ha-Poèl ha-Caìr), whereas
“liberalism—and its heir, socialism—were cosmopolitan, preaching for
one humanity, undivided to nations”. But the First World War
FACING AN UNPRECEDENTED DISASTER 43
has brought a change in values. Nationalism does not belong anymore to

conservatism alone. Now it is supported by Marxist socialists as well, in spite
of Marx’s declaration that proletariat has no homeland.
During the last generation, therefore, “values changed: ups came down,
and downs went up”. In Aḥime’ir’s opinion too, the time was one of a
deep change not only in Palestine, but all around the world.6
The notion of a local crisis, however, deepened within the Zionist camp
following the riots and massacres of August 1929 and their political results.
After the riots in August 1929 (in which Muslims and Jews were killing
each other, causing a death toll of about 240 people and about 570
reported injured),7 the Government in London appointed a commission
(known as the Hope-Simpson Commission) whose task was to investigate
the causes of the violent eruption. The investigation resulted in the publi-
cation of a new statement of policy, issued on 20 October 1930, by the
colonial secretary Sidney Webb (Lord Passfield), a statement soon named
“The Passfield White Paper”. Zionist circles viewed this paper, which sug-
gested limiting Jewish immigration to Palestine, as a fundamental change
in the former British official political guidelines (known as “The Churchill
White Paper”) of 1922.
This notion of crisis was expressed loud and clear upon the pages of
Ha-‘Am (Hebrew: “The People”), the first newspaper established by the
Revisionist Party after a series of disputes put an end to the collaboration
between the party and Ben Avi’s Do’ar Ha-Yom. “Isn’t it very high, the
price we paid, are paying and shall continue to pay for the Balfour declara-
tion?”, asked Aḥime’ir. Referring to what was widely understood as a
British promise to establish a “Jewish State”, he concluded that “the price
we are paying for what is supposed to be a present is higher than the price
paid for a regular purchase”.8 His rage was not directed only towards the
British government, but towards the leadership of the Zionist Organisation
in Palestine as well. Mapay’s Socialists are “Philisters”, hence in Palestine
“Zionism is led by liars”.9
The hostility towards what the Revisionists perceived as the ineptness of
the Zionist leadership gained power. This hostility was also the main factor
leading to the founding of Ha-Àm, following the rupture between the
Revisionists and Ben Avi, the owner of Do’ar ha-Yom. After about a year
of collaboration, in which the newspaper was edited by Jabotinsky—whom
he admired—Ben Avi had to literally throw out of the editorial board’s
offices that group of Revisionists who took over the paper.
44 D. TAMIR
On the pages of the young and fresh newspaper, Joshua Yevin—a

physician by profession—compared the situation of Zionism in Palestine
to that of a sick person. In Yevin’s opinion, both socialists and liberals were
happy to see that the Revisionists were no longer writing in Do’ar ha-Yom,
since both liberal and socialist Zionists behave
like primitive sick patients, who break their thermometer, and then assume
they are healthy, because they have no more fever… But even if all the news-
papers would hail Weizmann, if all would praise Ha-‘Aretz and Dabar…
even if all the thermometers in the world will be broken—the patient will
still remain in a severe condition.10
Certain that the executive of the Zionist Organisation is bankrupt—finan-

cially, politically and morally—Yevin, nonetheless, also saw something
positive in the political crisis. He asserted that in eastern European Jewish
communities, going bankrupt was no reason for shame. Modern Jews,
however, are ashamed when they go bankrupt. This, in his opinion,
proves that contemporary Jews gradually lose their ability to adapt indefi-
nitely… this is the beginning of a different consciousness, a mental necessity,
that will finally bring a change to the lives of the Jews, overcoming the main
disaster of our life, as we’re scattered around the world: this would be the
redemption of the nation.11
And the current Zionist executive? “It will stay in its current situation:
beyond the bankruptcy”.12
A day later, Wolfgang Von Weisl held a public lecture in Jerusalem, and
Ha-‘Am brought its readers a brief summary of it. Von Weisl, however,
saw a crisis in traditional Jewry, noting that “antisemitism spreads all
around the world: conversions, mixed marriage and destruction of the
family—all these ruin World Jewry”.13 In Von Weisl’s opinion, “Jewish
youth is especially in danger, as religion loses its hold rapidly”. Since the
crisis and the danger were imminent, Revisionist Zionism’s immediate aim
in Palestine was “to have—within one generation—a Jewish majority, who
will rule the land”.14
International politics also contributed to the feeling that the times were
tough, as all around the region Muslim activists protested against the
Italian violence in Libya: on the same day, a group of 50 Muslim dignitar-
ies delivered to the Italian consulate in Jerusalem a petition protesting the
persecution of Muslims in Tripolitania. The newspaper reported about the

demonstration at length, with a hint of joy at the fact that the demonstra-
tors did not succeed in meeting the Italian consul, who was absent at the
time of the demonstration.15
The crisis atmosphere was evident also in Ha-Biryon, the semi-official
publication of the Maximalist group “Brit ha-Biryonim” (“Band of the
Zealots” in Hebrew). This series of home-made leaflets, typewritten and
copied by basic mechanical copying machines, was published once a month
during the first half of 1931 by Yevin, Aḥime’ir and Grünberg, who pro-
claimed it “did not require the permission of the Hebron government”.16
The authors of the pamphlet asserted that at first, the “New Hebrews”,
upon their arrival to Palestine, “laid down their weapon of anger and fury
towards their enemies” which they used to hold abroad. Instead, they
began to build and cultivate the land. But now, the British government is
trying to block Hebrew immigration and agricultural settlement. If the
government does not stop doing so,
if it continues to block our road towards construction, we shall turn again to

destruction. If these enemies do not allow us to create out of love, we shall
turn to the Holy Hatred.
Furthermore: the Jewish people “is forgetful and forgiving”, but “it will
not forgive England, who cheated it and deprived it of its most precious,
most sacred: the soil of Zion”.17
The notion of an imminent crisis delivered by Ha-‘Am upon its readers
in the Spring months of 1931 was not limited to the local Zionist political
sphere. “Whereas the last World War was marked by terrible acts of
destruction, unprecedented in previous wars, according to experts, these
are nothing but ‘children toys’ compared with the horrors of that to
come”, stated a report about newly developed chemical and biological
weapons, titled with a warning that “entire countries shall be destroyed in
the next World War”.18
Still, Passfield’s White Paper and the British policy towards Zionism
were the matters most troubling the Revisionists during these months.
Von Weisl claimed that the failure of negotiations between the Zionist
Organisation and the British administration regarding the future British
policy in Palestine is “the worst political defeat the Jewish people suffered
since the days of Herzl”.19 Using a naval metaphor, he asserted that “the
wrecked ship of the Jewish people” is caught between “high waves,
46 D. TAMIR
threatening to destroy it”, as the current leaders of the Zionist Organisation

are “traitors, squanderers and incompatible, short-sighted bureaucrats”.
The Revisionists, on the other hand, “are the youth, the idealists—rich
with human power, like all idealists, but poor financially”.20
As a trained journalist and a gifted writer, however, Von Weisl cleverly
added an optimistic tone to the gloomy diagnosis, assuming that in spite
of Weizmann’s attempts to keep business as usual, “this is the silence
before the storm”, as it is clear that “our people is getting out of its
silence”. The community in Palestine is gradually waking up, and is about
to settle the score with the “false prophets” who deceived it for years—
that is the socialist and liberal leadership of the Zionist Organisation.
Similar attacks on the Zionist institutions and a declaration that Palestine
was the only hope for the Jewish people were evident in another article by
Von Weisl which was published that same day.21
One may assume that the approaching Zionist Congress, which was
about to convene in Basel in July 1931, also contributed to the content of
the articles in Ha-’Am, as well as to their tone. In a fiery article published
in mid-May 1931, Yevin addressed the “inner part” of the Revisionist
movement, as rumours were circulating about an idea of “annexing Western
Palestine to Transjordan”.22 Yevin was convinced that during the five years
of its existence, members of the Revisionist movement had actually “saved
Zionism from extinction”. The crisis of Zionism was not an ordinary one,
as Jabotinsky (“a great leader, gifted with a talent of prophecy”) established
the movement amidst “a bitter war against gigantic enemies”. As the elec-
tions for the Congress were approaching, however, Yevin too—like Von
Weisl—was portraying a picture not only of crisis, but of success as well:
thanks to Jabotinsky, a group of excellent national poets and a wonderful
youth movement, “a new fire was ignited in the Spirit of Israel”.
Yevin used images of war, comparing the struggle of Revisionism
against the withdrawal of Zionism with the French defence of the Marne,
in 1914, and then turned to a clear messianic register: members of the
movement, who are hated and despised all around, are the “Guardians of
the Fire of Revival”. For Yevin, both the problem and the solution were
clear. Altogether,
Zionism reached its hour of destruction, and then came New Zionism. The
Lion of Fire reigns again on the movement’s shrine… Zionism was saved
from extinction… And on our Shrine, amidst the poorness and disaster of
our life, sits the Lion of Fire, the Lion of Israel’s rebirth.23
The political battle against socialism continued. On 14 May 1931, among

reports about the presidential elections in France and the flight of bishops
and Jesuits from Spain, the editorial on the front page of Ha-Àm attacked
Mapay. The editorial claimed that once every few years (that is, before
elections to the Zionist Congress) it “wears the suit of the opposition”
against Britain, in a full contrast to its regular daily political conduct.24
The editors of Ha-Àm were not alone in their fear of a looming disas-
ter. Like-minded parties and factions were active abroad, and the newspa-
per published their opinion as well. “Our ‘New Party’ is the expression of
the English youth rebellion against the impotency of the old parties in
dealing with the horrible economic crisis threatening the life sources of
our people”, opened an article published in the newspaper two days later.
“There is some fatalistic thought that everything shall become all right by
itself… but although our people stands face to face with an unprecedented
disaster, we do not think so”. So wrote John Strachey, whom the editors
of Ha-Àm described as “a friend and a close associate of Mosley, head of
the ‘New Party’”.25
The Labour Party “went bankrupt like Social-Democracy everywhere”,
the article continued. However, Strachey asserted that
by no means are we an extreme left party… nor are we fascists, Hitlerists or

opponents of parliamentarism… we are just a handful in parliament… but if
the elections will be held in a year, we are convinced of our victory.
The editors of Ha-Àm were sympathetic. “The things written here should
be heard by us as well”, they wrote, for “this article expresses the spirit of
the time—the era of Liberalism’s bankruptcy as an international
resource”.26
Meanwhile, the worried tone became louder and harsher, as the Zionist
Congress in Basel approached. “We were warning, that the ‘bit by bit’ of
the Zionist executive will lead us to a catastrophe”, wrote Von Weisl a few
days later, referring to the situation in Palestine. “We said that colonisa-
tion requires rapid action, and if other methods were used and another
100,000 Jews had been brought to Palestine, we wouldn’t have reached
this disaster…”27
The belligerent tone of Ha-Àm did not escape the attention of the
British local government, which ordered the newspaper’s closure for two
weeks, until the opening of the 17th Zionist Congress in Basel.28 At that
congress, the Revisionists demonstratively quit the Zionist Organisation.
48 D. TAMIR
Whether their act was a step planned before the congress or a spontaneous
reaction to the liberal and socialist majority’s refusal to crown “the
establishment of a Jewish state in Palestine as the main aim of Zionism”,
Jabotinsky—together with his colleague Revisionist delegates—demon-
stratively tore their Zionist Organisation’s membership cards and left the
congress’s venue.
The Congress in Basel was the peaking point of the crisis atmosphere.
“For eight years I live in Palestine, always hearing that ‘dialectic of wind-
mills’ about Realpolitik and ‘creating and building’—and we have reached
a complete catastrophe”, said Uri Zwi Grünberg in his speech at the con-
gress.29 “We are miserable. In the land [Palestine]—it is hell. I feel like
getting out of the fire and the doom, in which our common Jerusalem
stands. We are all miserable—but you don’t know it” said the poet to his
European audience in his famous dramatic style, stating that
in Palestine there’s a mood of a pogrom and propaganda encouraging

bloody animosity… we are helpless; internally we are limited and dispersed;
the newspapers in Palestine are full with bad news….30
Grünberg referred to what he considered as obsequiousness towards “the

Arabs and the Britons”, claiming that “we lost the minimal sense of dig-
nity… ‘shut up and swallow everything, because this is how it has to be’”.
Specifically referring to the bloodshed of August 1929, he said that
after all the slaughter, a self examination was necessary… but finally there
came animosity towards brothers and love towards enemies; one began to
look for lights among the murderers and for shadows among the aching
brothers.
About the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem, where the riots began, Grünberg
claimed that moderate Zionists and religious circles “sold the utmost holi-
ness of the Nation”.31
The crisis atmosphere deepened. “The resolutions of the 17th congress
justified the worse prophecies” read the editorial of Ha-Àm four days
after the end of the congress.32 Jabotinsky’s secession was a clear declara-
tion that the members of the “activist” and “maximalist” faction of the
Revisionist Party lost any confidence they still had in the Zionist
Organisation’s ability to handle the political situation. “Jabotinsky takes a
6-months Leave from his work at the Revisionist Party? The war for the
establishment of a New Zionist Organisation has Begun” read the

newspaper’s front-page headline that day.33 The report itself began first
with a façade of neutrality vis-à-vis the dispute within the Revisionist camp
as to whether it should try to influence the existing Zionist Organisation
from within or—as the maximalist faction demanded—establish a new,
alternative organisation. Officially, Ha-‘Am argued that Jabotinsky’s
secession
by no way means that he is about to retire from his work, but on the con-
trary: as the official president of the Revisionist Party, he had to be non-
partisan towards both streams in the movement: the one which wanted to
take over the old Zionist Organisation, and the one which was advocating
the founding of a new one.
The author of the article suggested nonetheless that
indeed, Jabotinsky, considering the needs of this grave hour for Zionism,
had finally decided to carry out his plan and start with a firm action for the
establishment of the new organisation. It is clear that everyone who’s con-
cerned about the future of Zionism and wishes for its resurrection will join
Jabotinsky in this step of his.34
To use Paxton’s words, the maximalist part—headed by Aḥime’ir, Von

Weisl, Yevin and Grünberg—demonstrated a notion of an overwhelming
crisis beyond the reach of any traditional political solutions. For this group
it was clear: the situation demands an extreme deed, breaking the old
institution and forming a new one. From that point on, the Maximalists
were clear in their demand and actions for the establishment of a New
Zionist Organisation (which indeed was officially established four years
later, in September 1935).
The feeling of crisis, however, did not cease. “We live in hell, and the
government is indifferent. Isn’t it high time for a firm, comprehensive act
of protest?”, asked an editorial about a week later, after a Jewish hunter
was attacked and wounded near Nablus.35
Within a few days, the Activists began to elaborate their stance. First
was Yevin, who articulated that a national movement has to fulfil one basic
condition: it has to be sovereign and independent. In his view, external
obstacles are not a problem; a national movement faces a real problem
only when it tries to compromise with the demands of other factors,
50 D. TAMIR
whatever those might be. This, he asserts, is the problem of Zionism now:
“Brit Šalom” wants to compromise with the Arabs, Mapay with Socialism,
and Weizmann with the British government. Yevin found that
the loss of sovereignty is the biggest disaster which occurred to Zionism. A

non-sovereign movement, dependent on the will of others, is absurd… it is
not a movement—but a shop, a business contractor.36
Yevin argued that Zionist Revisionism in 1925 was formed with a clear
intention to re-establish “a sovereign independent liberation movement,
after the old one ceased to exist”. In other words, it was not established in
order “to be an opposition to the old Zionism, putting a badge on its torn
coat, but in order to provide it with a brand new royal garment”. In a
similar vein he asserted that detaching Revisionism from Zionism will be
“detaching the daughter from her old and weary mother… it now stands
for itself; it is a sovereign creature. It is the Zionism.” The implicit messi-
anic line of thought he expressed a few weeks earlier now became explicit,
as he concluded his article by stating that the Revisionist movement had
taken upon itself “the messianic destiny of the people of Israel”.37
Second was Aḥime’ir. About a week after Yevin’s aforementioned arti-
cle, he published a wide historical review of political Zionism. According
to his account, Revisionist Zionism did not want to establish a new organ-
isation based on the same principles of the old one, but a new organisation
with new principles, “which fit the new spirit of Revisionist Zionism”.38 In
an epochal account, Aḥime’ir—a historian by trade—presented the deep
roots of the feeling of crisis, not only in Palestine but all around the world.
This crisis, he argued, had formed the basis for Revisionism. He stated that
Revisionist Zionism
was born by the storm of war and revolution. The campaign of the leader for
[the establishment of] the Hebrew Battalion—this is the first chapter in the
history of Revisionist Zionism. Members of Revisionist Zionism spent their
childhood or their youth between the bullets of the World War or the civil
war [in Russia]. The tragic sign of those years is engraved on the soul and
the face of each and every of us. Some lost a brother in the war; some had
their father murdered by red terror, the Pteljuras, the Cossacks. One’s sister
was raped; the other’s mother died from typhoid and hunger. And the war
was not in vain: instead of the world views [which were prevailing] before
1.8.1914, those sweet world views, came these imbibed with the influence
of August 1914 and October 1917. The great catastrophe must be repaired;
only stupidity and shallowness would argue in favour of holding to the path
in which we walked before.39
Aḥime’ir is fully aware of current trends in Europe, and clearly relates the
crisis of Zionism to a global one:
Eight million youngsters fell in the world war, and a similar number in the
storm of the Russian revolution. The youth now demands its due, “taking
revenge” of the generation who was sitting at home during the years of
disaster… the war between liberalism and socialism on the one hand to com-
munism and fascism on the other is a war between fathers and sons. In Israel
too, a war is waged between official Zionism—which is allied with the
Agency—and young, poor, “working Palestine”, concentrated around
Revisionist Zionism.
Revisionist Zionism, therefore,
has nothing to learn from [old] Zionism and Zionists: neither ideology nor
tactic. We can only learn from what is happening in the world… Imperialistic
appetite can be found… among the “proletarian” peoples, the peoples who
lost the war, whose public ideals were not fulfilled. Those proletarian peoples
are the Italian, the German, the Hungarian, the Russian and others—but
the most proletarian is, of course, the people of Israel.40
The crisis and the rupture are total and one: ideological and intergenera-
tional at the same time.
Von Weisl (who was soon about to depart to Europe, to take care of the
Revisionist movement’s activities there), remained steadfast to the local
notion of crisis. The same day, the physician and journalist who was
wounded in a fight during the August 1929 riots, warned that the Arab
population in Western Palestine is preparing for a second round of the
1929 massacres, hoarding weapons and ammunition. “The bloody
conspiracy”, he assumed, is organised by the “hands of communist

agents”. He firmly warned the British government that it would be respon-
sible for any bloodshed caused.41
The 100th issue of Ha-‘Am was published two days later. The issue’s
main article stated that the newspaper “was born in a time of tremendous
crisis, shaking the Zionist organization, the community in Palestine and
the whole world”. But the readers can be assured that the newspaper is
52 D. TAMIR
“strong in its solitude and proud for standing as an opposition against a

whole world of enemies”.42 Indeed, “dark clouds may fill our skies and the
times are dire”, but
we fasten the bands of our helmets and raise our torch up—so it would dis-
perse the darkness of the night. And we continue to march in our path—for-
ward, towards our liberty.43
A few days later, Ha-‘Am was once again closed, by an order of the High
Commissioner. But the editorial board was not dispersed: it continued to
publish some issues occasionally, with various changing titles, using mostly
pseudonyms, thus bypassing the order to close.44
The feeling of crisis did not disappear, but rather deepened. On the
eve of the new Hebrew Year, the paper opined that the Jewish commu-
nity in Palestine “meets the New Year’s Eve in a state of orphanhood and
depression… ideological chaos, spiritual disappointment and political
paralysis in Zionism”.45 The new year would probably not be a good
one, as “a horrible new day stares into the houses’ windows, with its
leaden eyes…”.46 So grim was the final chord of Ha-‘Am. A few weeks
later, however, appeared its successor, Ḥ azit ha-‘Am—“The People’s
Front”.
Ḥ azit ha-Àm
Like his older brother, Ḥ azit ha-Àm continued the Maximalist alarming
tone—and gradually made it louder and more extreme. On 4 February
1932, the Revisionist Executive convened a press conference in its prem-
ises in London, in which it revealed that some “measures are done behind
the scenes” of British politics in Palestine. According to the information
the Revisionists in London received, the British government, in collabora-
tion with—or at least without the opposition of—the Zionist Executive, is
planning to hold elections for a parliament representing the inhabitants of
both sides of the Jordan river, divide the country into “Jewish” and “Arab”
districts (“Cantons”), make Arabic the sole official language and install an
Arab king or governor. 47 “A sharp sword is lying on our neck” was Ḥ azit
ha-Àm’s interpretation of the situation. “This is a very grave moment”,
the article claimed, referring to the “French Report”48; it is “grave also
after Arlosoroff’s denial”.49
The danger was not only external, coming from the part of the British
government, but also internally, since “at the very same time the treacherous
press… has already dismissed all the great political dangers lurking for us
regarding the ‘cantonal’ intrigues”. Instead of being alarmed, the general
Hebrew public opinion “is excited regarding the political changes about to
take place in Palestine”.50 While “in Egypt too, one contemplates the
crowning of an Arab king in Israel”, only “the heads of the Jewish Agency
are quiet”. Ḥ azit ha-Àm was alarmed after a question had been raised by
a member of the Egyptian parliament, who was wondering whether there
are any plans to install Àbbas Ḥ ilmi (the former governor of Egypt) as the
ruler of an Arab state in Western Palestine. “The danger is still here”,
argued Ḥ azit ha-Àm, and it was not only from the politicians but also
from the media, since
Palestine is still the focal point of many intrigues, all with one aim: annulling
Balfour’s Declaration and making Palestine an Arab state… If the Jewish
public does not embark now on a fierce political battle for rescuing us, it will
be too late. Every attempt to blur the danger at this point is a crime!51
Regarding the idea to establish a general—practically Arab—parliament

and divide Western Palestine (Ḥ azit ha-Àm named it “the Legislative
Council” and the “Cantons”),52 the newspaper argued that
the community must acknowledge the situation. It should all rise up and
answer the undertakers of Zionism. In 1920 the whole community declared
a day of fasting and repentance, as protest for the arrest of the Hero of
Jerusalem. Will the community not stand up today, when extinction is
decreed upon our mere existence and the existence of the entire Jewish
people?53
The fears were not totally without basis. The year 1931 saw a series of
murders in the north of the country.54 Ḥ azit ha-Àm argued that without
any doubt, “the question of security in our land is the question”, as
“an organising hand” is directing its actions wisely, according to some
plan—“to terrorize the public and subject it to an atmosphere of a constant
pogrom”.
Jabotinsky himself also referred to what the Revisionists perceived as a
critical change in British policies in Palestine. Quoting Balfour as saying
that the promise of the British government to assist the Jews in building
54 D. TAMIR
their “national home” in Palestine created a basis for partnership, he

concluded that “today, after fifteen years of experience, it seems that this
‘partnership’ is gradually collapsing”.55 This was, he argued, mostly
because of restrictions upon Jewish immigration, as “a clear spirit of anti-
semitism” prevails among the British administration in Palestine. “The
trust we have with English promises is fading on a daily basis”, declared
an announcement by the World Executive Committee of Revisionist
Zionism.56
The notion of crisis was not a momentary one, and lasted for years.
It did not cease, neither with the disbanding of Brit ha-Biryonim and
the closing of Ḥ azit ha-Àm, nor with the founding of the New
Revisionist Organisation (NZO). “I find it hard to carry out any public
chores, especially as it seems to me that humanity is standing face to
face with a catastrophe”, wrote Aḥime’ir to Jabotinsky at the end of
1935, replying to the latter’s proposal to Aḥime’ir to take some active
political duties.57
A connection between the notion of global crisis and the assumption
that fascism is a way of salvation was evident in the biography of Mussolini,
written by Zwi Kolitz and published in Tel Aviv in 1936. “Next to the
socialist party… the communist devil has also began dancing among the
masses of the Italian people, who were confused and divided and did not
know where to go”, Kolitz described the deep political crisis which desta-
bilised the Italian state in 1919. “Hence there was a need for a decisive
force to rise in the horizon of the Apennine peninsula, and put an end to
this chaos”.58
The answer to this crisis was fascism, of course. Since “Mussolini real-
ized, that the old diplomatic methods are worthless in modern times”,
only a brand new political system was capable of pulling Italy out of the
dire straits into which it fell.59
Conclusion
The feeling of a global crisis, which was present in Europe in the aftermath
of the First World War, did not fail to get the attention of Hebrew writers
and thinkers in Palestine. It was apparent in the writings of natives (like
Ben Avi) and European immigrants (like Aḥime’ir, Von Weisl and Yevin).
This sense of overwhelming crisis had both global and local aspects, which
were intertwined.
Like many other liberals at the time, Ben Avi and his newspaper Do’ar
ha-Yom saw a great danger in the economic crisis not because of the
problems it caused per se, but to a large extent because of the political
possibilities it opened for Communism. Similar was the fear of Wolfgang
von Weisl, who came from a more conservative milieu. Both perceived
Italian Fascism as a proper antidote for Communist influence.
Von Weisl’s sense of danger, however, had another aspect. While Ben
Avi was born in Palestine to an anti-religious family and was interested
mostly in the local society, Von Weisl, on his part, was born in Vienna and
felt affiliated to Judaism and other fellow Jews. His sense of crisis also
included, therefore, a notion of danger to European Jews and Jewish
communities.
A similar notion of danger for Jewish communities was apparent in the
writings of Joshua Yevin and Uri Zwi Grünberg, though with a slightly
different emphasis: Yevin and Grünberg concentrated their political efforts
in the local Palestinian arena. The worries they voiced were mostly regard-
ing Hebrew society in Palestine, or the Zionist movement. Both saw the
crisis as a deep cultural one, not only administrative or technical.
Among the writers examined in this work, the broadest notion of crisis
was probably that of Abba Aḥime’ir. In line with his tendency to analyse
large and long historical processes, he observed—from the mid-1920s
on—a global intergenerational crisis, in which all around the world the
generation of the First World War rebelled against its parents. In the
Hebrew community in Palestine, he argued, the “youth”—with which he
identified—was standing against the old parties and institutions.
These last four writers (Von Weisl, Yevin, Grünberg and Aḥime’ir) were
all members of the same cohort, more or less, and shared similar—even if
not identical—European experiences of death and destruction during the
First World War. It is no wonder, therefore, that they shared, to a large
extent, their understanding of the world as a system under deep and
immense change, going through a break with the “World of Yesterday”.
As a matter of fact, their war experiences could be compared with that of
other, neither Zionist nor Revisionist writers in central Europe, who came
back from the war’s “Storm of Steel”, to a world very different from the
one they left at its beginning.
The sense of crisis, it should be said, was not totally unfounded. The
basic elements of the crisis in Palestine during the inter-war period were
more or less similar to those prevalent in other countries at the time. First
56 D. TAMIR
was an economic element: the technological developments in the fields of

transportation and communication, together with the incorporation of
Palestine into the commercial and monetary system of the British Empire,
made the country ever more connected to world markets. As a conse-
quence, it also became more vulnerable to global economic problems.
Second was the collapse of old, traditional, established regimes. Parallel
to the deep change in Russia (the overthrow of the Czar and the founding
of the Soviet regime) and in central Europe (the founding of new nation-
states and republics on the debris of the Austro-Hungarian and German
monarchies), Palestine went through a deep change from an Ottoman rule
to a British mandate. The institution of British rule was a double-edged
sword. On the one hand, the British received their mandate to rule amid
Zionist expectations for the establishment of a “Jewish national home”. On
the other hand, the British government conducted a cold colonial
Realpolitik which was based, among other things, on promises made to and
alliances made with “Arab” political factors in the region. A sense of crisis
could be just a natural outcome of such a political cognitive dissonance.
Fig. 3.1 Abba Aḥime’ir

during the early 1930s.
Courtesy of the Jabotinsky
Institute in Israel
Last but not least was the direct confrontation with an anti-Zionist
“Arab” population, which indeed took place in several rounds, beginning
in 1920 and 1921, reaching its peak in the August 1929 riots and then
through continuing attacks during the “Arab Revolt” of 1936–1939. The
ongoing clashes with representatives of another national community per-
petuated the feeling of crisis, continuously serving as a proof for the
Maximalist assertion that the crisis is imminent (Fig. 3.1).
The answer the Maximalists suggested to the crisis was mainly strength-
ening the national community in its struggle for independence and self-
determination. A nation’s strength, they argued, is dependent on the
subordination of individuals and secondary groups to the nation.
* * *
Notes
1. Itamr Ben Avi, “Mussolini”, Do’ar Ha-Yom, 02.11.1922.
2. Ibid.
3. Ḥ ayim Vardi, “The Victory of the Fascists” [Nicḥon ha-Fašisŧim], Do’ar
Ha-Yom, 12.11.1922.
4. Ha-Do’ar, “Five Years of Bolshevism”, Do’ar ha-Yom, 6.12.1922.
5. Ibid.
6. Aḥime’ir, “The Fate of Social Ideals”, Ha-Poèl ha-Caìr 20 (1926), issue
1–2.
7. Tom Segev, One Palestine, Complete: Jews and Arabs under the British
Mandate (London: Abacus, 2001). p. 327.
8. Aḥime’ir, “Around Beaconsfield”, Ha-Àm, 19.4.1931. The article was
written in commemoration of 50 years to the death of Benjamin Disraeli.
It’s worth mentioning that Aḥime’ir opines that “in order to become a
great politician (whether constructive like Disraeli, or destructive like
Trotsky), one should leave Judaism”, for “what sky-reaching politics could
have developed within Judaism? Petty lobbying on the one hand, and
swears in the name of false Messianism in the other”.
9. Ibid. The derogatory term Philister was often used during the 1930s
among the Revisionists when referring to liberal and socialist Zionists.
10. Joshua Yevin, “Beyond the Bankruptcy”, Ha-Àm, 22.4.1931.
11. Ibid., emphasis in the original.
12. Ibid. The Revisionists regularly used the terms “liquidation” and “bank-
ruptcy” to describe the politics of liberal and socialist Zionists, which they
perceived as a wholesale of Zionism’s principles and achievements.
58 D. TAMIR
13. “Dr. Von Weisl’s Lecture”, Ha-Àm, 22.4.1931. No author’s name was
mentioned, but Von Weisl was the one of the editors of the newspaper at
the time.
14. Ibid.
15. “An Unsuccessful Attempt at an Arab Demonstration in Front of the
Italian Consulate”, Ha-Àm, 23.4.1931. The item bore no author’s name,
but considering the colourful language it was probably written by Von
Weisl.
16. Brit ha-Biryonim, Ha-Biryon 5 (April 1931), front page. An original is
kept at the CZA. PR-3693.
17. Ibid., “We Shall Learn the Sacred Hatred” (pages are not numbered).
18. “Entire Countries Shall Be Destroyed in the Next World War”, Ha-Àm,
28.4.1931 (no author named).
19. Von Weisl, “The Silence before the Storm”, Ha-Àm, 4.5.31.
20. Ibid. Compare with Paxton’s remark about the “anticapitalist, antibour-
geois animus” of early fascist rhetoric: Paxton, op. cit., p. 10 (and notes 36,
37 there).
21. Von Weisl, “Renewed Zionism (g)”, Ha-Àm, 4.5.1931. This was the
seventh part of a series of articles depicting the historical background for
the emergence of Revisionist Zionism. See also below, in Chap. 4.
22. Yevin, “Fire’s Guardians”, Ha-Àm, 12.5.1931 (all emphasis is original).
23. Ibid.
24. Ha-Àm, 12.5.1931.
25. John Strachey, “‘The New Party’ in England: The Plans of the Labour’s
Secessionists”, Ha-Àm, 14.5.1931. The origin of the text is not clear. It is
unlikely that the piece was especially written for Ha-‘Am; it might be a
translation of an excerpt of Oswald Mosley, John Strachey, Robert Forgan,
Cynthia Mosley, Oliver Baldwin and W. E. D. Allen (eds.), Why We Left the
Old Parties (London: David Allen, 1931). For a recent research about the
reasons for the establishment of the New Party and its circumstances, see
Matthew Worley, “Why Fascism? Sir Oswald Mosley and the Conception
of the British Union of Fascists”, History 2010, pp. 68–83.
26. Strachey, op. cit. The rest of the article deals with the desired financial and
monetary policy for UK.
27. Von Weisl, “‘We Take Advantage of the Situation’”, Ha-Àm, 25.5.1931.
28. A message delivered instead of the newspaper, 16.6.1931: “We hereby
inform our readers and subscribers that due to the command of the High
Commissioner, the printing of the newspaper Ha-Àm has been stopped
until further notice”.
29. “The full speech of U.Z. Grünberg”, Ha-Àm, 17.7.1931. The 17th
Zionist Congress convened in Basel between 30 June and 15 July 1931.
30. Ibid. The newspaper regularly published speeches of prominent
Revisionist leaders and activists.
31. Ibid. Grünberg’s conclusion, however, was that “in these days what we
need for the community is a union of brotherhood and salvation—and we
believe it is possible”.
32. “After the 17th Congress”, Ha-Àm, 19.7.1931.
33. “Jabotinsky Takes a 6-months Leave from his Work at the Revisionist
Party? The War for the Establishment of a New Zionist Organisation has
Begun”, Ha-Àm, 19.7.1931. The article was not signed. It was probably
written by either Yevin, Von Weisl or Aḥime’ir. All of them, however, were
clear supporters of the secession.
34. Ibid. From that day on, Ha-Àm continuously criticised Grossmann, head
of the moderate faction within the Revisionist party, who advocated staying
a part of the old Zionist Organisation.
35. “The People’s Diary” (editorial), Ha-Àm, 28.7.1931. Another article
that day was titled “The Fantasies of Do’ar Ha-Yom”: it was a sharp denial
of the report in Do’ar Ha-Yom about a rift between Von Weisl and
Grünberg to Jabotinsky. Clearly, there was bitter animosity prevailing
between the two newspapers.
36. Yevin, “About the Responsibility of our Time”, Ha-Àm, 31.7.1931
(original emphasis).
37. Ibid. (original emphasis).
38. Aḥime’ir, “The Aims of Revisionist Zionism”, Ha-Àm, 5.8.1931.
39. Ibid. Aḥime’ir was writing from his own experience and from the experience
of his friends: his brother was killed during the civil war; Grünberg and
Von Weisl were serving in the Austro-Hungarian military and Yevin in the
Russian. All of them reported in later years about horrors they witnessed.
40. Ibid.
41. Von Weisl, “We Warn: A Serious Warning in a Grave Hour”, Ha-Àm,
5.8.1931.
42. People’s Soldier [pseudonym], “100th Issue”, Ha-Àm, 7.8.1931.
43. Ibid.
44. This state of affairs continued for a few months, until the establishment of
Ḥ azit ha-Àm. The occasional issues bore the names Migdalor
(“Lighthouse”) and Mišmar ha-‘Umma (“The Nation’s Guard”).
45. “On the Eve of the New Year” (author unknown), Migdalor, 11.09.1931.
46. J. Ben-Amitay (pseudonym), “The Disaster in the Exil’s Diaspora”,
Migdalor, 11.09.1931.
47. “London Raises the Ax on our Third Temple” (no author), Ḥ azit ha-Àm,
16.2.1932.
48. The “French Report” was an appendix to the Hope-Simpson Report,
concentrating on recommendations for a new agrarian policy in Palestine.
See for instance Roza El-Eini, “The Implementation of British Agricultural
Policy in Palestine in the 1930s”, Middle Eastern Studies, Vol. 32 No. 4
(1996), pp. 211–250.
60 D. TAMIR
49. Yevin, “Be Awake!”, Ḥazit ha-Àm, 23.2.1932. Ḥazit ha-Àm blamed
Arlosoroff that he agreed to a said plan to divide Western Palestine into
“Jewish” and “Arab” parts. The press usually referred to these divided ter-
ritories as “Cantons”.
50. “The Danger of Liquidation still Exists”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 23.2.1932.
51. Ibid. The main article of Ḥ azit ha-Àm that day was titled “The End for
the Balfour Declaration?”, by Jabotinsky.
52. “New Arrests”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 4.3.1932. The article reported about the
arrest of four youngsters (probably members of Brit ha-Biryonim) who
were arrested four days earlier in Tel Aviv, after they were caught hanging
placards defaming “The Legislative Council” and the “Cantons”. The four
were released on bail the next day.
53. Aleksander Ìkkar, “The Homeland on the Verge of Extinction”, Ḥ azit
ha-Àm, 4.3.1932 (the name may be a pseudonym of one of the editors,
although it is not likely). The “Hero of Jerusalem” was Jabotinsky who,
during the first round of riots that year, had organised armed defence on
Jewish neighbourhoods and was arrested for it.
54. “Another Horrendous Murder in Kfar-Ḥ assidim”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm,
8.3.1932. The newspaper counted nine dead, who were, it assumed, all
murdered by Arab nationalists: three in Yaàgur, one in Nahallal, one in
Haifa, two in the southern Galilee, one in Balfouria and a recent one in
Kfar-Ḥ assidim.
55. Ze’ev Jabotinsky, “We Should Look with our Eyes Open”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm,
15.3.1932.
56. “Announcement of the World Executive Committee of Revisionist Zionism
to the Hebrew Public”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 15.3.1932. Although the
announcement stated that the Revisionist movement is considering appeal-
ing to other nations worldwide against England, it ends with a clear
expression of a hope that the British government will change its policy.
57. Letter by Aḥime’ir to Jabotinsky, no date (probably December 1935; it is
a reply to Jabotinsky’s letter dated 12.11.1935), JA P5-4/1.
58. Zwi Kolitz, Mussolini: His Personality and Doctrine (Tebel: Tel Aviv,
1936), pp. 21–22.
59. Ibid., p. 35.
CHAPTER 4
The Nation Stands Above All
With all their animosity towards the “red” press of the socialist camp in
Palestine since the late 1920s, the newspaper that the Maximalist writers
despised the most was probably Ha-’Aretz. Established in 1919 (the same
year as Do’ar ha-Yom), it was considered to be moderate, balanced and
liberal—what its opponents shortly summed up as “gray”. Its first editor,
Moše Glücksohn, was a member of the moderate Zionist faction, the
“General Zionists”.
Glücksohn regularly preached in his columns for a moderate Zionist
policy, which should take into consideration both the limits of the British
rule and the aspirations of Arab nationalists. In October 1928 he pointed
out that a moderate policy is a must, if one wishes to keep the morals of
society. When Aḥime’ir received a regular column in Do’ar ha-Yom, he
promptly replied to this. On the level of moral principles, he stated that
“the morals of society—mean protecting the society’s corpus at all costs.
No price is too high when it comes to defending society, since without
society, ‘men would swallow each other alive’”.1 He then applied his the-
ory from the general imperative to the local political situation. Referring
to the desired social model, Aḥime’ir used recent Russian history (which
he and Glücksohn both knew personally) as an example. He rejected not
only the old-fashioned monarchy and the modern Soviet regime, but any
liberal aspirations as well, arguing that as Zionists intend to establish a
sovereign state in Palestine, they should

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62 D. TAMIR
found it neither on medieval piety nor on the basis of Russian “Zarism” or

“Sovietism”. We should duplicate neither the social world-view of the exiled,
nor that of the Russian intelligentsia. Demanding too many individual rights
would cause a Kerenshchina, to which Glücksohn and his adherents preach.
On the contrary: one should impose on the individual as many duties as
possible.2
About a week later, the tenth anniversary of Czechoslovakia’s independence

gave Aḥime’ir an opportunity to bring an example of subordination to the
nation and sacrifice for it. He described how Czech soldiers, after defecting
from the Austro-Hungarian military during the First World War, joined the
“Entente”. They were caught by the Habsburgs and sentenced to death,
but “the Czech youngster, son of this healthy people, knew that there is no
oath in the world which could stop him from serving his homeland”.3
This emphasis on the duties of the individual towards the public and on
serving the homeland clearly resonated in the principles of Beytar, the
Revisionist Party’s youth movement. Originally founded in Riga in 1923,
it was aimed at recruiting teenagers to the Revisionist party and educating
them in its spirit. Its activities included paramilitary training (not much dif-
ferent from that of the “Scouts”). Later, during the 1930s, it also became
a vehicle for recruiting activists for the NMO (which was not officially
subordinated to but ideologically affiliated with the Revisionist Party).
The youth movement’s principles were restated and enacted in a con-
ference in Danzig, in April 1931. Ha-Àm, the Maximalist newspaper
co-edited by Aḥime’ir, published these principles in full:
1. Beytar acknowledges that Zionism’s aim is to make Palestine, on both

banks of the Jordan river, a Hebrew state with a Hebrew population
majority.
2. Beytar’s mission is to organise and educate the Hebrew youth to be the
nation’s pioneer in founding the Hebrew state in Palestine. Every mem-
ber of Beytar is ready to be summoned anytime for the building of the
state and for defending it, following an order of Beytar’s command.
For this cause:
Beytar educates the Hebrew youth, regardless of citizenship,4 sex, class

or occupation, to be loyal citizens of the people of Israel, through a
training of the spirit, the Hebrew language, the physical work and
the sport of defence.
THE NATION STANDS ABOVE ALL 63
Beytar’s education is aimed at migration to Palestine.

Beytar acknowledges that the individual’s action or the benefit of the
class are totally subjected, during the whole period of the construc-
tion of the Hebrew statehood in Palestine, to the benefit of this
construction.
Beytar acknowledges that all Hebrew boys and girls have to prepare
themselves to the protection of the Hebrew statehood and Jewish
settlements in the exile.5
This last article is a clear example of an ideology subordinating the indi-

vidual to the group.
Beytar was a youth movement, whose main base of action was in central
Europe. However, although Aḥime’ir was quite fond of it, his more direct
political action and involvement was through Brit ha-Biryonim. Beytar
was an overt, organised and institutionalised movement, with a defined
apparatus; Ze’ev Jabotinsky was its president from 1925 until his death in
1940.6 Brit ha-Biryonim, on the other hand, was not an official move-
ment; it did not aim to educate through theoretical indoctrination and
activities but to act physically; did not recruit children but young men and
was led directly by Grünberg, Aḥime’ir and Yevin. Since the group was
never officially affiliated with the Revisionist party, it did not have to report
or account to anyone.
“This is no time to occupy ourselves with universal questions”, the
group declared in its semi-underground publication “Ha-Biryon”. With
a clear hint against the mobilisation of the youth to socialist groups and
organisations, Grünberg, Yevin and Aḥime’ir stated that was not the
time
to care for the improvement of this big, secure and wealthy world… if your
heart was not deaf within you, you will hear the shout of your lost people—
and only one love would fill your heart—love for the people and the land,
which are waiting for their resurrection.7
Aḥime’ir was preaching for strong social cohesion and commitment not
only in his regular political articles, but in his essays and literary reviews as
well. Such was the case with his literary review of the genre of voyages
literature (of Goethe, Gogol, Puschkin, Mickiewicz, Longflow,
Chateaubriand and Swift), titled “The Liberal Utopia”. The exceptional
among all the famous European writers of voyage stories, Aḥime’ir opined,
was Daniel Defoe, with his hero Robinson Crusoe.
64 D. TAMIR
Unlike other voyage stories, “Robinson Crusoe” is not a satire, but

rather a prototype of man’s liberation from social bounds, of liberalism.
Crusoe represents the figure of an anticlerical; therefore, this book is “the
holy script of Liberalism”. Aḥime’ir, however, opposed the book’s liberal
message; he argues that an individual cannot live without society.
Furthermore: although Robinson Crusoe is the one and only known uto-
pia of Liberalism, in the centuries which passed since the writing of that
novel, “we entered the era of the rise of the public; Bolshevism and Fascism
are the clearest expressions of the public sphere’s taking over on the pri-
vate sphere”.8 The primacy of the group is therefore not just an ideologi-
cal imperative, but a social fact.
An article in Ha-Àm referring to the conference of the Hebrew writ-
ers, about a month later, went in a similar vein.9 “Humanity is within a
process of changing its values”, read the article. Europe, especially, “is
turning its back to the written word, and is looking for other forms of
cultural expression”. Whereas the searches for new ways of expression
have only begun, and it is hard to say what form they will take:
it is already clear that the European culture before August 1914 was too
selfish. The European culture which came with the war—Bolshevism,
Fascism and Revisionism—turned its back to the individual.
Having placed Revisionism in one basket with what will later be termed
“Totalitarianism”, the article argued that Hebrew literature has no future
as long as its standard bearers continue to
confine themselves to the problems of the individual. Modern Europe takes

interest in the individual just as far as it is a part of the public. Every writer
should know that he is not some kind of Robinson Crusoe, living on a des-
ert island, but a small atom in the community, in our movement and our
people, who strives for the realisation of its selfish national ideal, in spite of
the enemies trying to destroy us.10
Three months later, in August of that year, in his article reviewing the
founding and the development of Revisionist Zionism, Aḥime’ir called for
the establishment of a new organisation with new principles, “which fit the
new spirit of Revisionist Zionism”, to replace the old Zionist Organisation.11
Explaining what these new principles should be, he clearly referred to
Lenin’s Bolshevism, which
from its very beginning, was not a party in the regular sense of the term. It
was an Orden, whose members were tightly connected. Bolshevism did not
aspire to be a majority, but rather followed the minority… it was a united
movement, like Freemasonry in its beginning, in the eighteenth century.
Aḥime’ir concluded that “in such a movement… a spirit of ‘we shall do

and hear’ prevails… there is no private life beyond the movement”.12
Ḥ azit ha-Àm
The next year, the 200th birthday of George Washington was celebrated
in the USA. Aḥime’ir reminded his readers that
the liberty for which Washington fought was neither human nor personal
liberty, the liberty about which Jefferson, Penn, Condorcet, Mill and
Michaelowski had spoken. This “Kerenski-like” liberty was alien to
Washington, who fought for real liberty: the liberty of his nation.
Washington’s liberty is not Jefferson’s liberty, the same way that Cavour’s is
not the one of Mazzini.13
The imperative of subjugation to the national group was articulated not

only positively, but in the way of negation as well. Yevin, for instance, was
concerned not only by the limited willingness of the youth to serve
Revisionist ideas, but also by its willingness to serve its competitors. “We
very much need a remedy for this Israeli mental illness: this readiness to
serve each and every idea.”14 Yevin claimed that all around the world, Jews
support ideas other than Zionism. They promote democracy or socialism
in Germany and France, adhere to Communism in the Soviet Union or
support Fascism in Italy.15 This is “a very dangerous abstraction” which, in
its innermost part, is actually “a total lack of self idealism, borne by the
blood”. National redemption can only be achieved by “anchoring oneself
to one point”; therefore, “every such sub-ideal—every attempt to install
and mix a socialist or pacifist or bi-national idea in the Israeli soul—is such
a danger for us”.16
Before the fifth conference of the Revisionists in Vienna (planned to
take place there in autumn 1932), the Maximalists opened a wide front
against the moderate faction within the movement. Yevin articulated the
difference between the two factions from a geographic perspective: there
were “the Grossmannist, Londonist direction” against “our Palestinian
66 D. TAMIR
direction”.17 According to Yevin, Revisionist Zionism finished its task as

an opposition within the Zionist camp; it also has “no need of coalitions”.
The role of Revisionism as a liberation movement, on the other hand,
has just begun. We strive towards a radical change of the Jewish soul,
towards the creation of the Biryonic race, which will know how to defend its
homeland and its people’s honour and which will have only one loyalty:
loyalty towards the movement’s ideal.18
Appraisal of coercion by the ideological movement and subjugation to it

did not cease among Revisionists after the closing of Ḥ azit ha-Àm and
the disbandment of Brit ha-Biryonim. “Democracy, which was made for
the masses, contradicts the psychology of the masses”, wrote Zwi Kolitz in
his biography of Mussolini, in 1936. “By their genuine spirit”, he argued,
the masses
cannot admire a leader who is not able “to harm a fly on the wall”, but
rather the man who is head and shoulders above the crowd, whose devotion
to his people does not prevent him from torturing it or other people when
needed. It is not the people who should define the government’s style of
regime, but the opposite: the government itself must dictate the people’s
social, political and moral way of life.19
The movement or the party, however, were considered by Kolitz as a step

on the way towards another political formation. The people and its leader-
ship, Kolitz thought, should find their utmost expression in the all-
encompassing State:
All actions, aspirations and interests of these people [within a state] must be
directed towards one and only cause, a cause standing above all other: the
State… the state is absolute, and each individual is relative towards it…
every citizen within the state is a bone of its bones and flesh of its flesh. Each
person who accepts the authority of the state upon himself has equal rights—
but also equal obligations towards it.20
It is interesting to note that the leader, in Kolitz’s view, as important and

central as he might be, is still a part of the State, which should be “the first
and absolute ruler, governing boundlessly upon all the moral, spiritual,
political and economic needs of the entire nation”.21
The need for fusing the members of society into one solid nation was
made clear by Abraham Stern too. “The national movement educates the
people in the spirit of loyalty to the nation and its ideals”, he wrote after
detaching his group from the NMO.22 “The Revisionist movement, which
has called itself the national movement, educated the people and prepared
it mentally towards the idea of a Hebrew state”, he recalled,23 the use of
the past-tense implying that the Revisionist movement was no longer
doing this.
Stern did not develop the idea of total devotion and conscription for
the national cause only then. Already in 1932, he had written the lyrics of
the poem “Unknown Soldiers”, which became the anthem of the NMO:
Unknown soldiers we are, uniforms we lack;

Surrounded by horror and the shadow of death.
We’ve all been conscripted for our entire lives,
Dismissed we shall be only by death.24
Stern met his death in February 1942, as he was arrested and shot by the
police. The song remained the anthem of the NMO in Israel (later named
“Israel’s Freedom Fighters”) until the organisation was dismantled in
1949.
Conclusion
The assumption that no price is too high when it comes to defending
one’s society, as articulated by Abba Aḥime’ir, laid the ground for the idea
of the primacy of the group This assumption received its moral justifica-
tion through the assertion that the morals of society demand protecting its
corpus at all costs.
Therefore, Aḥime’ir and his companions rejected not only conservative
monarchism and modern socialism, but liberalism as well. Their argument
was that subordinating all individuals to the group is a prerequisite for the
establishment of a sovereign state in Palestine—which they perceived as
the goal of Zionism.
Both Aḥime’ir and Yevin were consistent in this aspect. Their preaching
for strong social cohesion and commitment as a practical political principle
was rooted in their view of human nature in general. Their sociological
analysis was manifest in their literary and political commentary; its practical
implementation was the creation of such a group, in Brit ha-Biryonim.
68 D. TAMIR
The duties of the individual towards the group were even clearer in the
principles of Beytar, which was—unlike Brit ha-Biryonim—hierarchic and
institutionalised. Although the youth movement was officially affiliated
not to the Maximalist group but to the Revisionist movement in general,
it actually had strong ties with the Maximalists, foremost with Aḥime’ir.
As in other aspects of the Maximalists’ political doctrine, here too one
can say that their local politics were influenced by the global Zeitgeist,
claiming that Europe before the First World War was too selfish, whereas
after the war it turned its back on the individual, and began to tend
towards collective ideologies. In this context the Maximalists mentioned
not only fascists, but communist and progressive groups whom they usu-
ally hated (freemasons and Bolshevists) as precedents.
The desired primacy of the group had two levels. First was the level of
the Revisionist movement: the Maximalists demanded the consolidation
of all its members—including the moderate faction within it—into one
political force. The second level was that of the nation, arguing for subju-
gation of other movements and parties—that is, socialist and liberal—for
the benefit of a single Zionist cause.
The existence of such a “dual front” had been evident in Maximalist
thought since the beginning of the rupture between Revisionism and
mainstream Zionism after the 1929 riots (which led, after two years, to
Revisionist secession from the Zionist Organisation), throughout the
1930s, and until the last underground days of Abraham Stern, who
demanded complete discipline and obedience from his followers. A similar
duality can be observed also in Maximalist manifestation of the third
mobilising emotion, victimhood.
* * *
Notes
1. Abba Aḥime’ir, “Current Issues (From the Notebook of a Fascist): An
Answer to Mr. Glücksohn”, Do’ar ha-Yom, 4.11.1928. The column bore
the subtitle ‘Tell the Master who Created Me’, a paraphrase on the
Talmudic tale about Rabbi Elazar. See Taànit 20.2 (the other quote is
from the Mishna Abot 3: Ḥ anina’, deputy of the high priest, said: “Pray
always for the welfare of the government – for were it not due to their fear
of it, men would have swallowed each other alive”).
2. Ibid. The term Kerenshchina was coined after Alexander Kerenski (1881–
1970), the Russian politician and head of government. Aḥime’ir probably
meant here a policy favouring the socialists and the liberals while disadvan-
taging the right nationalists. I would like to thank Marina Gershgorn for
her help in explaining this term.
3. Aḥime’ir, “Current Issues (From the Notebook of a Fascist): Shallowness,
or even Worse”, Do’ar ha-Yom, 9.11.1928.
4. The majority of Beytar members at that time were in Poland, Lithuania
and Latvia.
5. “The Principles of Beytar, enacted in the Danzig Conference”, Ha-Àm,
28.4.1931. All emphases are in the original.
6. On the organisational structure of Beytar see Yaacov Shavit, Jabotinsky and
the Revisionist Movement, 1925–1948 (London: Frank Cass, 1988),
pp. 48–56.
7. Brit ha-Biryonim, “We Shall Talk with You Frankly”, Ha-Biryon 5 (April
1931). An original is kept at the CZA, file PR-3693.
8. Aḥime’ir, “The Liberal Utopia”, Ha-Àm, 21.5.1931.
9. The People’s Diary (editorial), “The Census”, Ha-Àm, 15.6.1931. The
article was probably written either by Aḥime’ir or by Joshua Yevin.
10. Ibid.
12. Ibid. Cf. Exodus 24.7: “faciemus et erimus oboedientes”.
13. Aḥime’ir, “Washington”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 25.3.1932.
14. Joshua Yevin, “Our Simple Truth: Redemption of the Spirit”, Ḥ azit
ha-Àm, 14.6.1932.
15. Sic. In his writing, Yevin tended to portray Fascism as an Italian phenom-
enon, unaware of—or, at least, keeping silent about—the similarities
between his ideas and those of other generic movements.
16. Ibid. In the Italian case, Yevin mentions Margareta Sarfatti, “Mussolini’s
secretary”, as an example for “the enthusiasm of Jewish fascists in Italy”.
17. Yevin, “An Opposition or a Liberation Movement?”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm,
26.8.1932. At that time, Grossmann was the head of the movement’s
moderate faction, which did not reject cooperation with Britain.
18. Ibid. One should mention that the newspaper brought also other voices
and opinions from within the Revisionist movement. On the same day, for
instance, a long article answered Yevin’s critic of Aḥad ha-Àm’s national
ideology, as published in one of his articles the week before. See B. Elicedeq
(unknown author, may be pseudonym), “On Spiritual Zionism”, Ḥ azit
ha-Àm, 26.8.1932.
19. Zwi Kolitz, Mussolini: His Personality and Doctrine (Tel Aviv: Tebel,
1936), pp. 45–46.
20. Ibid., pp. 62–63. Emphasis in the original.
70 D. TAMIR
21. Ibid., p. 65.

22. Abraham Stern, draft in his notebook, probably written during 1940 or
1941. CZA A 549\65-54.
23. Ibid.
24. Nechemia Ben-Tor, History of the Fighters for the Freedom of Israel (Jerusalem:
Ya’ir, 2010), Vol. 1 p. 2. In Hebrew: ‫שח ְֵרר ַרק ַה ָ ּמוֶת‬ ׁ ַ ‫ ִמּש ָּׁורה ְמ‬,‫ֻכּ ָלּנּו גֻּ ּי ַסְנּו ְלכָל ַה ַחיִּים‬
.‫ ּו ְסבִיבֵנּו אֵימָה ְו ַצ ְל ָמוֶת‬,‫ ַח ּי ָלִים ַאלְמֹונִים ִהנְּנּו ְ ּבלִי מַדִ ּים‬. After 1940, the song remained
the anthem of Stern’s group; the NMO’s wing led by Razi’el adopted the
anthem of Beytar, written by Jabotinsky.
CHAPTER 5
Tormented by Foreigners and Betrayed

by Brothers
As with other aspects of Hebrew right-wingers’ national self-perception,

here too Italy was a model for imitation. “In spite of the great sacrifices it
made on the altar of war”, wrote Ḥ ayim Vardi in Do’ar ha-Yom, “in spite
of the fact that it betrayed its friends and turned to the side of France and
England—Italy did not gain anything from ‘that business’”.1 The image of
Italy as a European nation once deprived of its right share in international
politics, now getting back what has been taken from it—this image will
appear more than once until the beginning of the Second World War.
The clashes and quarrels between Jews and Muslims next to the Wailing
Wall in Jerusalem, in October 1928, raised a sense of victimhood among
political activists in Palestine. “The deeds of the fathers are a model for
sons”, declared Abba Aḥime’ir, drawing a straight line connecting the
imperial governors who resided in Jerusalem at that time with the imperial
governors who ruled there 1900 years earlier:
The deeds of the Petronius and Cassius Florus are a model to Storrs, Luke
and Keith-Roach. The gentile ruling us on our land hasn’t changed, and you
can be sure that the gentile philosopher and historian who had already justi-
fied the mischiefs brought upon us by the Romans and the Greeks 1800
years ago will now justify the mischiefs made by the British and the Arab.
Momsen and Renan have already justified the misdeeds brought upon our
ancestors. You can be sure that all those who now claim in their preachings
that the declaration of war is a sin etc. etc.—they will justify the deeds of the
British administration concerning us.2

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72 D. TAMIR
Aḥime’ir then continued with the historical equation between Rome and
Britain:
The Roman deputies who were sent to rule Judea came from African prov-
inces, and thought that the Jews were barbarians like the inhabitants there.
Britain’s civil servants who now govern us were sent from that same Africa
(Sudan, Sierra Leone), and are convinced that the Jews may be subjugated
like desert-dwelling ‘natives’. But the sons of Israel are not like Negroes,3
my dear gentlemen! …You treat us—the most civilised public in Asia, whose
culture does not fall short of that of the Romans and the British—as if we
were savages living on the banks of the Nile or the Niger, but you do not
treat our holy places and holy of holies the same way. Would the Keith-
Roaches or Duffs have dared to touch a block of wood worshiped by the
savages of some remote island in Oceania? But any ignorant and rough
Brit—backed by some gentleman—can trample and crush without hesita-
tion the Holy of Holies of the people of the book.4
These events, the author suggested, are “to remind us that ‘our land,
strangers devour it in our presence’. The Wailing Wall should serve as a
mark of Cain on the gentiles’ foreheads”.5
Aḥime’ir was not unique in his tendency to draw a direct line between
the first and the twentieth centuries ad. A similar line was drawn also by
Jacob Cohen, the poet who gave Brit ha-Biryonim its name. ”When
England embarked on carrying out the Mandate”, he argued,
two acts of injustice were immediately inflicted upon us. The first injustice—
tearing the East bank of the Jordan [from Mandatory Palestine]—was like
stabbing the nation in the back. We haven’t suffered such a crime since the
destruction of the Second Temple… The second injustice was discharging
the Hebrew battalion.6
Such a straight line of continuing victimhood was drawn also by Grünberg,

in his dramatic poetic style. For instance:
Generations long we cried unto dirt in thee, Man’s kingdom,

Men and women, infants and adults;
And since the plants growing on your soil did not vanish
Due to our tear’s heavy load of salt,
And neither did die your rivers’ fat fish,
It means—that our warm tears accumulated, like zinc,
Into our silence; deep in our soul did it sink.
TORMENTED BY FOREIGNERS AND BETRAYED BY BROTHERS 73
And our rage—screeching from our hearts to our teeth,

Screeching and tightening, it sharpened to a sword of sorrow
While no iron sword did we have—our hands were hollow—
As the enemies in Christianity and Islam came to slaughter
Israel’s people: from old man to toddler”.7
The August 1929 riots and massacres and—more importantly—the feel-

ing they spurred among Revisionist activists that Britain’s policy was
inherently anti-Zionist and pro-Arabist, deepened after the publication of
“Passfield’s White Paper” in October 1930.8 “For the last two years, so
many decrees and edicts poured upon the Community, that it became a
flesh without feeling”, claimed an editorial in Ha-Àm in June 1931. “We
do not feel any more the new troubles coming our way daily”.9 No won-
der, therefore, that the government’s plan to carry out a population cen-
sus in Palestine was perceived as a direct attempt to show that Jews were
only a small minority in Palestine, thus proving that Zionism, as under-
stood by the Zionist Organisation at the time, had failed.
The Maximalists, however, were not just whining about the grim situa-
tion. On the contrary: the motive of victimhood and disaster became, in
their view, an incentive for national action. In a relatively short and concise
article published in July that year, after the secession of the Revisionists
from the Zionist Organisation, Yevin ascribed to Mapay the claim that
Revisionism gains its power due to British laws and the massacre of August
1929.10 He did not deny that, but rather accepted this assumption. He
then added that whereas the “liquidators” of Zionism suckle on “their
clerks’ complacence and bureaucratic satisfaction”, the Revisionist move-
ment suckles
on the great Jewish disaster. This is the case in every national liberation
movement: it nurses on the disaster of the nation and from this national
disaster it strengthens the people and educates it for its resurrection. We,
members of the rebellion’s movement, nurse on the wormwood of our peo-
ple’s destiny—thus our speeches are so bitter. Our movement’s cradle stood
between blood and fire: the blood of the slaughtered and the fire of demol-
ished Jewish villages; and the glow of blood and fire pour red light on our
whole existence. Our words are not sweet and our heart is not mellow. Our
speech echoes the death rhoncus of slaughtered Jews, the cries of Jewish
mothers staying on their children’s corpses, and the loss of Jewish f armhouses
set on fire… Our movement was born from the people’s catastrophe and
from its shame, and the sign of rage is engraved on our forehead.11
74 D. TAMIR
Consistent with the idea of a direct movement from victimhood to action,

Yevin concludes that “as long as the disaster continues, we shall grow and
grow further—until we shall defeat it, with our own rebellious hands, and
bring salvation to the homeless people”.
Aḥime’ir, his colleague, used almost the same words in another article,
two weeks later. He opened his long article arguing in favour of founding
a New Zionist Organisation by reviewing the causes which led to the
founding of the Revisionist Movement, six years earlier. In order to justify
its claim and root it in the movement’s short but intensive history, Aḥime’ir
reminded his readers that Revisionist Zionism was born
amidst the storm of war and revolution … Revisionist Zionists spent their
childhood or their youth between the bullets of the World War or the civil
war. The sign of Tragedy of those years is engraved on the soul and the face
of each and every of us. Some lost a brother in the war; some had their
fathers murdered by red terror, the Pteljuras, the Kossacks; one’s sister was
raped; the other’s mother died from typhoid and hunger. The great catas-
trophe must be repaired…12
The repair, Aḥime’ir argued, should be political. While the wealthy and
rich nations of the world, the winners of the World War, are lazy and
incompetent, “imperialistic appetite” can be found among the “proletar-
ian” peoples, those who lost the war, “whose public ideals were not ful-
filled”. These peoples are “the Italian, the German, the Hungarian, the
Russian and others—but the most proletarian is, of course, the Israeli
people”. No other people “is so deeply betrayed by its potentates as our
nation…”.13
Here again, one can see how the national group and its interests became
victims not only of external enemies, but of betrayal by internal forces
within the national body. Indeed, the feeling of victimhood was not
uncommon among members of Revisionist Zionism not only regarding
the fate of the Hebrew or the Jewish people, but also regarding their rela-
tive position towards other parts of that society. “For years we bore the
yoke of hatred and contempt”, described Wolfgang Von Weisl the attitude
of non-Revisionist Zionists towards the Revisionist movement.14 Thus, in
his view too, victimhood was doubled: not only was the Hebrew
community in Palestine perceived as the victim of British colonialism, but
the Revisionists were also perceived as the victims of “old” Zionists within
the community.
A similar point of view was evident in an article by Joshua Yevin published

about a month later, addressed to members of the Revisionist movement.
Yevin wished to “encourage the inner part” of the movement, at a time
when talking about “annexing Western Palestine to Transjordan” was heard.
Yevin argued that for five years, Zionism was saved from extinction only
thanks to members of the Revisionist movement, who had been “hated and
despised” through and through by members of other Zionist factions.15
The perception of intertwining yet complementary opposites—extreme
misery on the one hand and grandeur on the other—continued in an even
louder register on the pages of Ḥazit ha-Àm. “We believe in the people’s
destiny and strength, we believe in the glorious future of this nation”,
declared its editorial on its last January 1932 issue. This nation, though,
was “bleeding between the jaws of lions all around the world”. The dichot-
omy was summed up in one sentence: “the rise of a new sun over poor
Zion, which was abandoned—again—to desolation and jackals…”.16
Yevin and Aḥime’ir expressed the notion of victimhood not only as a
phenomenon per se, but combined with other subjects as well. “A Chair
for international peace, which is nothing but a cover for political conspira-
cies… has no practical importance for us, for it does not solve any critical
question”, argued Ḥ azit ha-Àm. The university
cannot afford such luxuries as long as it lacks the realistic basis. We are
allowed to oppose this chair, for it is not we, the defenseless, lacking the
right for self defense—we are not the ones who need preaching about inter-
national peace.17
The arrest of Brit ha-Biryonim activists, led by Aḥime’ir, who hampered

the inauguration ceremony of the “Chair for International Peace” on 10
February 1932, made the editors of Ḥazit ha-Àm “furious and shocked”,
since
in these very days of disaster to the people of Israel, while the ax is raised to
cut off the root of its existence in our land—its territorial assets in the
homeland—in days of victory for the representatives of the Hebronian dag-
ger, the traitors were about to stage their ridiculous comedy of preaching
peace not to the aggressors, but to the attacked, trampled and plundered.18
A few days later, after some of the protesting students were suspended
from their studies for a few months, the newspaper concluded that Professor
Magnes (the institution’s Chancellor at the time) did not only behave like
76 D. TAMIR
the Catholic Inquisition, but was also using “methods of communist

Russia’s C.K.” in order to oppress his critics within the university.19
The protesters were not only victims of the treacherous Magnes, but
also of the police, who were called to take care of the demonstrators. But
victims were to be found within the police as well. “Three forces are scam-
pering around within the police: the ruling English force, the basic Arab
force, and the exploited Jewish force, which is not allowed to move or do
anything”, wrote an unknown journalist in March 1932.20 This “step child
of the police” is persecuted; he is not allowed to do his job; his duty in the
police is the one “of the black nigger! ‘The nigger has finished his job, the
nigger can leave now’; Jewish policemen are not allowed to demonstrate
their skills and wit.”
An assassination in Kfar Ḥ asidim, in the vicinity of Haifa, and the inabil-
ity of the police to find and arrest suspects in murdering other Hebrew
citizens21 made Aḥime’ir hint to his readers what one should do. In his
opinion, one should
put an end to the “liberal” view, which assumes that in the case of a murder
there’s only one criminal: the murderer. This might be true in the stagnat-
ing, liberal, western countries. But this “liberal” western term is not com-
patible with the conditions of life in this country. One should first of all
accustom the neighbour to the idea that Israel’s blood is not an abandoned
property. The Mandate government and its double police accustomed the
oriental masses in this country to other perceptions.
Sometimes, however,
the civilised public [has to] carry out the government’s task… we must
remember that in the Anglo-Saxon world, the power of the public is greater
than the government’s power. Overall, there’s a lot we should learn from
the Anglo-Saxon world; primarily—the necessity of maintaining the nation’s
dignity.22
It might be far-fetched to assume that this specific article had a direct,

immediate influence on the public. A few weeks later, however, three peo-
ple found their violent death within 48 hours (one American Jewish tour-
ist and one Arab driver were murdered in Jerusalem, and one Hebrew
worker fell mysteriously from a bus and died). Another person (an Arab
shepherd) was shot and slightly wounded near Jerusalem.23 Ḥ azit ha-Àm
argued that the country gradually becomes “a wondrous example” of a

land where those who commit murderous crimes are never caught:
Palestine is the only country in the world where one sees 100% failure in
catching the murderers, if one doesn’t count quarrels within Arab villages.
In the whole world there is only a minor percent of murderers escaping the
police; here in Palestine, during the last year, about ten Jews were mur-
dered—and the police found none of the murderers.24
Editors of Ḥ azit ha-Àm, “representatives of the attacked side”, which is

the one “most interested in this country’s peace and prosperity”, demanded
the British authorities “to declare, clearly and unambiguously”, before the
coming Muslim pilgrimage season, that the government would not allow
any “riots or violent outbreaks, at which the press of the offensive side has
already hinted”, otherwise—the responsibility for the outbreaks (and for
their consequences) shall be on the mandate’s government.25
The perception of victimhood as a preparatory phase preceding politi-
cal victory and national liberty was only implicit in the political articles
published in Ḥ azit ha-Àm. But in the literary parts of Maximalist writing,
victimhood was clearly portrayed as a preparatory phase before the arrival
of the redeemer.
Such a messianic movement from the pole of extreme victimhood
towards the opposite pole of total redemption was evident in a short story
by Yevin, published in Ḥ azit ha-Àm in April 1932. A group is gathering
in a small shack. Their leader, “Kokba”, a bit older than the others, is not
intimidated by the fierce criticism, animosity and hate towards his “new
movement, called after Josef Trumpeldor, marching under the blue-white
flag”—an exact description of Jabotinsky (or Aḥime’ir) and Beytar.26
Speaking to the small group gathered in the shack, Kokba promises his
audience that
redemption would come. Out of rivers of blood and the spittle of those who
hate us; from the bleat of Jewish toddlers in the towns of Israel, their bellies
swollen by hunger; by the quivering of bearded Jews, as the ropes are tight-
ened on their necks in the cities of Poland; from the flames of our villages,
put on fire by our haters—it is growing and emerging, the redeemer of
despair and rage; it imbibes the bitterness of wormwood—and it gathers
strength. It shall straighten up the hunched and give swords to weak
hands—so they could fight for their place in this world.
78 D. TAMIR
The next paragraphs seem to be part of the biographies of the author and
his good friend U.C. Grünberg. Yevin’s hero says that his generation
came here from silence-stricken battlefields and shaky trenches. From

barbed wires, on which the remains of cadavers were rotting. We came from
hunger beaten cities, where carcasses of horses were rolling in the streets,
and from Jewish towns after pogroms, where slaughtered corpses were car-
ried, piled in crates, to be taken to mass graves—and we carry within us the
terminal breath of brothers and the anxiety of Israel’s towns, which were
waiting for the slaughterer to arrive….27
This dark valley of tears and horror has, however, a gate of hope:
He will come, the Redeemer of Israel, but much he will suffer. Carrying
thousands of young bodies he will be put in the king’s jail, and his hands will
be put in iron chains. He will stroll across the land, persecuted and hungry,
seeking shelter in caverns, like an animal. Like a man of war will he sit in the
trenches, covered with mire and eaten by lice, with the gun in his hand—
until a day would come and Israel shall be salvaged. Then he shall ascend the
royal throne… His head is in heaven and his feet leaping across the moun-
tains, proceeding, coming ever nearer….28
Victimhood was not only a general feeling; it was embodied in the figures
of specific persons as well. Jabotinsky himself, for instance, was continu-
ously portrayed as a victim by his followers; the motif of prison and gal-
lows regularly repeating itself. In a poem written in 1934, during the trial
of the three activists accused of murdering Ḥ ajim Arlosoroff, Yevin wrote
that
In days of libel I saw you—carried with your three sons to the gallows,
Together with them, in chains, to interrogation’s torture and jail everyday…
Loading the iron bars on your back—but you’re just flesh and blood…29
The notion of victimhood was not limited to the Hebrew people. At least
one more people on the shores of the Mediterranean “had been oppressed,
persecuted, disintegrated and lacking self-consciousness for centuries”, and
therefore naturally saw “viewed a leader like Mussolini as a divine present, a
rescuer and a savior”.30 This was Zwi Kolitz’s simple explanation of the
reasons which made the Italian Duce so popular. He added that
we should not forget that it was a few decades ago, that the people of Europe
regarded the Italians not only as an unorganised, weak people—but as lesser,
inferior humans as well… “We are forced”, writes Mazzini to the Italians,
“to be like Israel among the nations: to satisfy the world with the fruits of
our spirit, receiving nothing in return”… and there was no one to act for the
benefit of the Italian diaspora.31
The same aforementioned dialectic mechanism of deep degradation and

exalted ascension was evident in Kolitz’s analysis of recent Italian history.
For him, it was clear that “after the inferiority complex which prevailed in
Italy during the last century, a necessary reaction came in this century, by
Mussolini’s Fascism, which raised Italy to one of the highest levels among
the peoples”.32
The notion of victimhood, one should mention, was expressed by Ze’ev
Jabotinsky too. The best example thereof is probably his poem “It Is All
Mine”, written in 1937:
Since the day I was called to the wonder

Of Beytar and Sinai and Zion,
To the Jail they have sent me, my brothers
Locking me out of my mother’s home.
The coast and the valley aren’t ours;

Building and harvesting in vain;
Oh my Lord—you chose us to suffer
And my brother to be the hangman.33
This notion of victimhood was present at the basis of Abraham Stern’s

political and historical analysis as well. “Since the day the British armies
entered Palestine”, he asserted, the Hebrew community there was
forfeited
to Arab rioters in 1920 and 1921. Trans-Jordan was torn from our home-
land; certificates became mandatory; bloody clashes [broke out] in 1929;
blocking the Jewish immigration; the Wailing Wall committee; the French
report; hunting of illegal immigrants; the bloody clashes from 1936 to 1939
and finally the White Paper.34
All these were committed either directly or indirectly by the British rul-
ers. That situation, in his view, was nothing new, but another link in a
80 D. TAMIR
long chain of suffering. “The people of Israel is suffering more than all
other peoples for about 1,800 years, since its temple was destroyed and it
was expelled from its land. And for these 60 generations it is wandering
from one country to another, persecuted up to its neck, beaten and
humiliated.”35
This victimhood, however, was dialectic: it paved the way for national
redemption, as promised in the sixth part of the NMO anthem. While
Palestine was imbued with
“The tears of the mothers bereaved from their sons,

And the blood of infants so pure—
the task of the NMO was to

Stick corpses together like with cement –
And so our homeland would endure”.36
* * *
Conclusion
The first presentations of victimhood in the fascist context were made
public in Do’ar ha-Yom, where Italy was described as a state which “did
not gain anything” from the Great War. Already then, in the early 1920s,
parallel lines were drawn between the image of Italy as a European nation
deprived of its right share in international politics—and the emerging
Hebrew nation.
The clashes and quarrels between Jews and Muslims next to the Wailing
Wall in Jerusalem, in October 1928 and then in August 1929, accelerated
the usage of victimisation rhetoric. It was evident in the writings of
Aḥime’ir and the poems by Grünberg in 1929 at the latest.
The late 1920s and early 1930s saw the beginning of a repeating pattern:
presenting contemporary Hebrew victimhood in the ahistoric context of
Jewish suffering. This pattern took two directions. Aḥime’ir (together with
Jacob Cohen) made an ahistorical leap from the first to the twentieth cen-
tury ad: their group’s activists, “Biryonim”, were named after the Zealots
of Jerusalem during the rebellion against the Roman empire. Grünberg, on
his part, portrayed an ahistorical continuation, putting contemporary
Hebrew misery in the context of Jewish victimhood for many generations.
The Maximalists’ notion of victimhood, however, took a dialectic form:

from passive misery to active reaction, to the extent of full reciprocal rela-
tions. Revisionism, in Yevin’s own words, “nursed on the great Jewish
disaster”. Soon, victimhood was portrayed as a preparatory phase before
the arrival of the redeemer, as described in explicit messianic rhetoric.
The national group and its interests became victims not only of external
enemies, but of the betrayal of internal forces within the national body, as
Revisionists “bore the yoke of hatred and contempt” put on them by non-
Revisionist Zionists, as Wolfgang Von Weisl described it. Victimhood,
then, had two levels, which existed simultaneously: Zionists were the
victims of the British rulers and Arab nationalists, while Revisionists were
victims of other Zionist factions. This notion of victimhood was mani-
fested not only by the Maximalists, but also by Ze’ev Jabotinsky himself
(Fig. 5.1).
This idea of victimhood peaked in Abraham Stern’s political and his-
torical analysis, and in his perception of his group and himself. All afore-
mentioned elements of victimhood can be traced in his writings:
Fig. 5.1 Uri Zwi

Grünberg, early 1930s.
Courtesy of the
Jabotinsky Institute in
Israel
82 D. TAMIR
contemporary victimhood as a link in a long historical chain; a return to

the symbols of the war against the Roman empire; external national
victimhood alongside an internal one (which, in his case was not just
double but even triple, being the outcast not only of the general Zionist
camp but of the Revisionist movement itself) and above all dialectic of
victimhood and messianic redemption.
* * *
Notes
1. Ḥ ajim Vardi, “The Victory of the Fascists” [Nicḥon ha-Fašisŧim], Do’ar
Ha-Yom, 12.11.1922.
2. Abba Aḥime’ir, “Current Issues (From the Notebook of a Fascist)”, Do’ar
ha-Yom, 8.10.1928. Publius Petronius was the proconsul in Syria, who was
sent in 40 ad to place a statue of the Roman emperor inside the Temple in
Jerusalem; Gessius Florus was the Roman governor of Judea from 64 to 66
ad. Ronald Henry Amherst Storrs (1881–1955) was military and civil gov-
ernor of Jerusalem during the 1920s; Edward Keith-Roach (1889–1954)
was governor of Jerusalem and the Galilee during the 1920s and 1930s;
Harry Charles Luke (1884–1969) was Chief Secretary of the Palestine
Government at that time.
3. Cf. Amos 9.7: “Are ye not as children of the Ethiopians unto me, O chil-
dren of Israel?”.
4. Ibid. Douglas Duff (1901–1978) was one of the police officers in charge
in Jerusalem during the Wailing Wall riots in October 1928.
5. Ibid., see Isaiah 1.7. However, Aḥime’ir also suggested an alternative to
this situation. See chapter 9 of this book: “Born Amidst Blood and Fire”,
note 2.
6. Jacob Cohen, “On the Great Danger and the Great Faith (Lecture by the
Poet Jacob Cohen)”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 19.4.1932. This is a short version of
his public lecture a few days earlier. The “Hebrew Legion” was the name
given to five battalions, who fought in the British army during the First
World War (in Sinai, Palestine and Greece). The battalions, initially estab-
lished by Ze’ev Jabotinsky and Josef Trumpeltor, were gradually disassem-
bled during the years 1920–1921.
7. Uri Zwi Grünberg, Shield Girdle and the Speech of Blood’s Son (Jerusalem:
Sadan, 1929), strophe A, p. 3; cited by Joseph Aḥime’ir and Shmuel
Shatzky, Brit Ha-Biryonim: The First Anti-British Organisation. Documents
and Evidences (Tel Aviv: Nicanim, 1978), p. 12.
8. See for instance Walter Laqueur, A History of Zionism (New York: Schocken
Books, 2003), pp. 346 ff.
9. The People’s Diary (editorial), “The Census”, Ha-Àm, 15.6.1931. The

editorial was probably written by Aḥime’ir, who led (together with Yevin
and Grünberg) a firm campaign against the census. This anti-census
campaign became a central issue for “Brit ha-Biryonim”. About this group,
see Colin Shindler, The Triumph of Military Zionism: Nationalism and the
Origins of the Israeli Right (London: Tauris, 2006), pp. 158 ff. For the
intellectual background of the group see Abraham Cordoba, ‘Inŧeleqŧualim
l-lo’ pšarä b-ḥajim h-poliŧijim: h-miqre šel Brit h-Biryonim [Non-
Compromising Intellectueas in Political Life: The Case of “Brit ha-
Biryonim”], in: Pinḥas Ginosar (ed.), Ha-Sifrut h-Ìbrit ve-Tnuàt
h-Àboda [“The Hebrew Literature and the Workers’ Movement”] (Beer
Sheba: Ben Gurion University Press, 1989), pp. 224–242.
10. Yevin, “What Do We Suckle On?”, Ha-Àm, 22.7.1931. Yevin uses the
Russian term “Pogrom”.
11. Ibid. The Revisionists used the terms “liquidation” and “bankruptcy” to
describe the politics of liberal and socialist Zionists, which they perceived
as a wholesale of Zionist principles and achievements.
13. Ibid. See also other parts of this programmatic article in other chapters of
this work.
14. Von Weisl, “The Fear of Bravery”, Ha-Àm, 9.4.1931. Zeev Tzahor finds
some of the roots of animosity between the Revisionists and the Socialists
in demographic changes which took place since the mid 1920’s. See Zeev
Tzahor, “The Struggle between the Revisionist Party and the Labour
Movement – 1929–1933”, Modern Judaism, vol. 8 no. 1 (February 1988),
pp. 15–25.
15. Joshua Yevin, “Fire’s Guardians”, Ha-Àm, 12.5.1931. Yevin took a clear
messianic approach in another part of this article.
16. “Who’s to the Lord of Zion—Join Us!” (editorial), Ḥazit ha-Àm, 29.1.32
(cf. Jeremiah 10.22: “It will make the towns of Judah desolate, a haunt of jack-
als”). The motive of a new sun seems like a direct paraphrase on a verse from
the Jewish morning prayer, “and a new light You will shed on Zion” [“‫ואור‬
‫]”חדש על ציון תאיר‬.
17. “Why do the National Students Oppose the Chair for International
Peace?” (no author), Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 12.2.1932. The text was also distrib-
uted as a leaflet at the Hebrew University before the demonstration on
Mount Scopus against Bentwich and after it.
18. People’s Diary (editorial), “We Are Furious and Shocked”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm,
12.2.1932. The “Hebrew College” is what will soon be known as the
Hebrew University. “Hebronain Dagger” is here metonymy for the agita-
tors of the August 1929 riots, the main massacre of which took place in
Hebron.
84 D. TAMIR
19. “After the Riots in the College: Magnes Issues an Inquisitional Verdict
against Zionists” (no author), Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 16.2.1932.
20. M. A. (only initials are given), “From the Capital City: ‘And They shall
Scamper...’”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 8.3.1932.
21. Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 15.3.1932.
22. Abba Siqra’ (Aḥime’ir), “The Murder in Kfar Ḥ asidim”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm,
15.3.1932.
23. “Official Announcement of the Government”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 5.4.1932.
24. “For the Peace of the Land”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 5.4.1932.
25. Ibid., my emphasis.
26. Yevin, “Brit ha-Biryonim”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 8.4.1932. The short passage
(marked for some reason as “XV”), was the concluding part of Yevin’s
story “Jerusalem is Waiting”, which was published in 19 parts, beginning
in February 1932.
27. Ibid. Yevin, who was born in Ukraine, studied medicine in Moscow.
During the Second World War he served as a military physician in the east-
ern front.
28. Ibid. For the clear messianic paraphrases cf. Isaiah 53.1–8 and 52.7; Cant.
2.8.
29. Yevin, “For Ze’ev Jabotinsky”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 30.3.1934. The “three
sons” are Abba Aḥime’ir, Abraham Stavsky and Ze’ev Rosenblatt, who
were arrested and accused of murdering Ḥ ajim Arlosoroff in Tel Aviv, on
16 June 1933.
1936), p. 48.
31. Ibid.
32. Ibid., p. 83.
33. It Is All Mine [“Kulla Šelli”] (1937).
34. Abraham Stern, “Zionism and Great Britain”, draft in his notebook, prob-
ably written during 1940 or 1941. CZA A 549\6544. In “certificates”,
Stern refers to immigration certificates, which were demanded by the
Mandate government from any European who wanted to emigrate to
Palestine. The “Committee” is the Hope-Simpson committee, which was
set to investigate the reasons for the 1929 riots; the French report was an
appended report to Hope-Simpson’s report, which recommended a revi-
sion in agricultural policy and land distribution; the “White Paper” referred
to here is the one of 1939.
35. Stern, draft in his notebook, written probably during 1941. CZA A
549\65-58.
36. Nechemia Ben-Tor, History of the Fighters for the Freedom of Israel
(Jerusalem: Ya’ir, 2010), Vol. 1, p. 2.
CHAPTER 6
Is Spengler’s Prophecy Coming True?
In 1922, as the world was trying to recover from the destruction and
devastation of the Great War, there were many reasons for pessimism.
Itamar Ben Avi, though, did not let the grim situation let him down. “The
fate of humanity is better than it seems according to Bolshevist world
view”, he argued. As a liberal activist fascinated by the opportunities the
modern world has to offer, he disliked “every standstill—needless to men-
tion a standstill derived out of evil and malice. The standstill of crude force
encourages the heart to rebellion, excitement, invention and renewal.”
More than scorn or alarm, however, his main feeling towards Bolshevism
was rather disappointment of the Russian revolutionaries, on whom, it
seems, he pinned some hopes:
The entire world is grieving now, the dignity of mankind was humiliated,
the beauty of dreams has become a laughing stock. But a day would come—
it will not take long—and we shall renounce our disgrace, that dust of idol
worship; then, the day of payment will come to this regime, which brutally
trampled all our delicate dreams.1
Half a decade after the October Revolution, the triumph of socialism was,
in his opinion, a curse more than a blessing. But Ben Avi was never a
socialist; his disappointment was one of an external viewer. Naturally, dis-
appointment was deeper among those who once were socialists them-
selves—until they changed their minds. “The moderate among the
socialists have become addicted, for decades, to petty politics”, revealed

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-73679-2_6
86 D. TAMIR
Abba Aḥime’ir to his readers. “They address the masses only before
elections. But what has socialism done for the cultural education of his
many followers?”2 Aḥime’ir, at that time still hesitating between socialist
dreams and nationalist devotion, already knew that “an ideal coming
true—bears the danger of disappointment and emptiness”. The corrosive
effects of socialism were felt not only in Europe, whence he came, but also
in Palestine, where the cultural crisis “is mostly because we are set under
the yoke of public affairs”.
But with all its deficits, Bolshevism was only one danger. Aḥime’ir argued
that the Hebrew community also faces “the American danger”—what
thinkers a few years later would name “Americanism”. This is the danger
of America, whose inhabitants experience
life of mechanic work, instead of creativity. This mechanisation of life, this

Americanisation—is the curse hovering over Europe for decades, decades of
paralyzed creativity. Decades of business, sports, press, elections with dis-
gusting propaganda. We also face this danger. But an active public, with
vigour and consciousness—even small in number but of great quality—can
resist this danger. We should aspire not to the American ideal, in spite of its
satiation—satiation of both the stomach and the soul. We might be hungry
for bread, but this bread should not extinguish our hunger for the word of
the Lord!3
Two years later, Aḥime’ir had already left socialist circles, and was writ-
ing in Do’ar ha-Yom. Herbert Hoover’s victory in the presidential elec-
tions of the USA provided him with an opportunity to write about some
of the themes which interested him the most: world politics and interna-
tional relations. In a relatively calm tone (for some reason, this column did
not bear the regular subtitle “From the Notebook of a Fascist”), Aḥime’ir
reviewed the development of the political system in the United States, and
the intertwined histories of the Democrat and Republican parties. At the
end of his article, however, he asserted that
Hoover’s victory is the victory of the politics opposing the League of

Nations, opposing the easing of immigration (of people and alcohol alike).
It is the politics of higher protective tariffs… Hoover’s victory is the triumph
of the selfish and healthy national principle.4
At that point, Aḥime’ir already saw separatism and protectionism, rather

than international openness, as a healthy national principle.
IS SPENGLER’S PROPHECY COMING TRUE? 87
Ha-Àm
In his article “The Renewed Zionism (B): Jewish Trouble and the
Aspiration of the Jews”, Wolfgang Von Weisl explained not only what
Revisionist Zionism means for him, but also why it should be that way and
for what reason. First, he made clear what Revisionism means for him.
Revisionism, in Von Weisl’s view, assumes that Zionism would appeal to
various needs of Jews around the world—material, spiritual and social—
for otherwise, Zionism “does not interest us”.5 As for the reasons, “it is
not the troubles of Jews as individuals, but the danger which faces the
whole race [which interests us]: the danger of extinction, the destruction
as a Nation”. Von Weisl feared a decline of the Jewish people as a whole,
as among Jewish communities in Europe and North America there were
then more deaths than births, and—everywhere possible—Jews were leav-
ing religion and abandoning their local communities.6
While Von Weisl sought in Revisionism a remedy for the decline of the
Jewish people worldwide, members of Brit ha-Biryonim—under the lead-
ership of Aḥime’ir, Grünberg and Yevin—were more concerned about the
decline of the Hebrew community in Palestine, primarily its younger gen-
eration. “The daily press fattens you, Palestinian youngster, with the sweet
honey of hope for good news about salvation and comfort”, argued their
call for the Hebrew youth. The small nationalist group, in contrast, is
about to feed the youth “with bitter stuff. We shall feed you with that
healthy food, which fits a strong, manly soul.”7 The authors promised to
tell the youngsters everything about “the treachery of the government,
the shame of the leadership and the rupture of the people”, in the hope of
convincing them to join the Revisionist camp in its battle against both the
British colonial regime and the Zionist establishments.
Von Weisl continued his argument in the next part of the article (pub-
lished five days after the first)—and this time found some reasons for opti-
mism. Referring to the high birthrate among “Jews” in Palestine, he came
to the conclusion that “Judaism, doomed to degeneration in Europe, came
back to life as it touched its native soil”.8 This is not only a national revival,
but even a biological one, as “the height, weight, chest width and breath-
ing abilities of the children born here are better than those of European
Jewish and even [sic!] non-Jewish schoolchildren—from Lithuania to
France”. The Jewish race, which was considered to be dying in Europe,
sprouts new, healthy twigs in Palestine. “This is an antithesis to the dimin-
ishing of the Jews in Europe… there—degeneration, as a necessary
88 D. TAMIR
outcome of the environment; here—renaissance and nationalism: not

incidentally, but as a normal response to known local conditions”.9
As for the Jewish community in Palestine, Von Weisl argued that “the
greatest danger to our existence—mingling and mixed marriages—could,
under certain conditions, be found in Palestine too, but it is precisely the
hostility of the neighbours preventing it”.10 Furthermore: the problems
inherent in the process of bringing together Jews from very different
countries and classes and making one Hebrew race out of them were also
pushed aside by the fact that all these immigrant Jews are equally hated by
the Arabs.
Von Weisl asserted that the hatred of the nations towards the Jews has
always raised a kind of “Jewish anti-Semitism” among some of them—an
idea deeply rooted in the soul of some Jews. However, next to the loom-
ing danger of a decrease in the world’s Jewish population due to assimila-
tion, Von Weisl does not miss the opportunity to punch his political
adversaries, declaring that
a much larger number of Jews does not turn spiritually to the enemy’s side,
but rather adapts, evades, tries to hide and disguise its race as much as pos-
sible, thus hoping to escape inconveniences or economic damage. These are
the Jews who had become Liberals five years ago, socialists thirty years ago
and Communists fifteen years ago; they became the standard bearers of new
ideologies… hoping that their Jewishness will thus be forgiven.
Von Weisl made the connection between Zionism and anti-Semitism by

asserting that anti-Semitism is what drove Jews from all over the world to
Palestine, as they were looking for a place where they can be treated
equally, like all others, without being discriminated against.11 The aim of
Revisionist Zionism, therefore, is to create in Palestine a Jewish majority,
not a Jewish minority. This is, in Von Weisl’s view, a precondition for safe-
guarding against anti-Semitism. But petty Zionist leaders (a hint to General
Zionists) prefer to stay in Europe and engage in European politics, instead
of coming to Israel. They either gave up the idea of a Jewish state (again,
hinting to Liberals), or argue that settlement in Israel is for members of a
“New Society”, not for “old fashioned” walks of life (hinting to Zionist
socialists).12 Later that year, Von Weisl would also argue that communism
poses not only a direct but also an indirect danger to Jews: while it directly
attracts many Jewish youngsters, it indirectly makes non-Communist public
opinion believe that Jews are responsible for Communism. In Von Weisl’s
words, “in various countries in central Europe fascism is associated with

fierce antisemitic activity due to a distorted fusion of the terms ‘Judaism’
and ‘Marxism’”.13
The elections for the Zionist Congress gave the editors of Ha-Àm the
opportunity to position themselves as the young guardians, saving the
nation from degradation. “It turns out that in Palestine there are only two
parties: Brit Šalom and the Left on the one hand, versus the nationalist on
the right wing, the Revisionist Zionism and the national element among
the Mizraḥi, while in between—the ‘Altersheim’…” stated an editorial
summarising the elections.14 “The leftists” fight for funds and for the
possibility
to surrender and compromise endlessly with all kinds of Zionists and

non-Zionists, whereas the Revisionists want to revive Herzl’s Zionism and
establish it as a barricade against the danger set by socialist terror… this
was the last time that the leeches had the budget, the money and the
possibility to make their delegates stand on their feet. Their end has come.
The elections in January buried the center; the elections of May sealed its
grave. But the elections of May also defeated Mapay, and the congress will
dig their pit.15
The editorial ends with the declaration that “the bankrupts are gone.
Long live the Revisionist Zionism!”
A more elaborated literary report about the decline was the one by Uri
Zwi Grünberg, published a few days later. Interestingly connecting the
corruption of the liberal executive with the dangerous emergence of com-
munism, he described how a friend of his, who had also emigrated to
Palestine, became a communist, because “the idea for which he came has
gone void, broken, boring and corrupt in the hands of his class leaders,
and executives measuring everything with money”, while “no other con-
tent exists” for the society in Palestine.16
“The orphanhood of the Wailing Wall is crying”, Grünberg concluded,
“the shame of orphanhood of the nation’s utmost holies in Jerusalem, the
cruel, impure, criminal negligence of the Wailing Wall by all the religious
Jews and their rabbis is crying.” It is a matter of degradation and humilia-
tion, as “Israel’s honour is gone”. While Von Weisl was concerned about
Jewish assimilation in Europe, Grünberg has another opinion. He asserts
that Jews in Palestine are
90 D. TAMIR
more miserable than those assimilating among the gentiles: no religion, no

colonisation. No flag. No feeling. On our secular agenda is the budget, for
keeping what we already have, without any chance to grow, no esprit nor
lust for something else ….
The decline, in Grünberg’s view, is not only of the political leadership, but
the religious leadership as well. Since the only thing about which the reli-
gious circles revolt is the fact that one plays football on Saturday, Grünberg
turns his back “to this self-righteous, dishonoured Jerusalem”, for
“because of the rabbis’ disciples, God has left that city”. His operative
message, however, is clear. In what will become his identifying mark in
Hebrew political literature, he now turns “to these few, who carry the
religion of the Siqriqi in their blood, only they are the believers, and the
Holy Spirit of the Lord—is within them”.17
As evident from both Von Weisl’s and Grünberg’s articles, the dangers
posed by liberal ideas (such as Brit Šalom’s in Palestine or other liberal
tendencies abroad) did not lessen the fear of communism; liberal and
communist dangers seem to have completed and intensified one another.
That Spring, the Revisionist newspaper dedicated a long report (almost an
entire page, including the testimonies of both prosecution and defence
witnesses) to the trial of two communist activists, members of the PKP
(one from Jerusalem, the other from Jaffa), who were accused of agitation
against the authorities and spreading of communist propaganda.18 The
subtitle was also unusually detailed: “leader of 600 workers who met none
of them—a salary from Moscow—Komintern clerks take care of farmers—
a First Class voyage to Moscow—1200 students from 80 countries—
Marxism and bombs—150 Million inhabitants of Russia starving—letters
written with lemon juice—Nebi Musa and the Komintern”. The two were
sentenced to 24 years imprisonment. The interesting point, however, was
the newspaper’s attempt to connect the nationalist Arabist danger to the
communist one: the newspaper highlighted the assumption that the minor
riots in Nebi Musa the year before were not religiously motivated, but
actually the product of “communist agitation”.
It is worth mentioning that Von Weisl did not see Arabism as a danger
per se, but only as far as it collided with Zionist aspirations in Palestine
proper. In his book Allah ist Gross,19 which was written in Vienna in 1935,
he even contemplated the establishment of a Jewish state as part of a
Muslim-Arab caliphate—the best constellation in his view to form a strong
wall to protect Europe against the danger of communism.
The “Red Danger” preoccupied Von Weisl since the beginning of the
1930s at the latest. Already in 1931, in an introduction to an interview
with Cidqi Paša, Egypt’s ruler, Von Weisl praised him for passing a
“Revisionist Budget” for Egypt, cutting the government’s expenses.20
After Cidqi Paša asserted that communism does not pose any danger to
Egypt, Von Weisl asked him whether it is “possible that a clandestine com-
munist act was responsible for instigating political unrest”. To support the
assumption that it is actually Moscow navigating the political agitation
throughout the Middle East, Cidqi Paša is quoted as saying that the
Egyptian authorities “know there are connections between Communist
centers and members of the Wafd party” (in a direct hint to the British
colonial rule in the region, Von Weisl emphasised Cidqi’s declaration that
the “Egyptian government must gradually abolish the capitulations”, as
these are “an injury and insult for the honour of every state”).21
Back in Tel Aviv, the notion of a danger of decline was not limited to
the political communist or liberal danger, but was a part of a greater feel-
ing of cultural-national decline. “It’s a fact: Habimma declined from these
high summits on which it stood during its first years—to the plain”, wrote
Joshua Yevin, Ha-Àm’s theatre critic, about the national Hebrew theatre.
He admitted, though, that “it is still a very good theatre …”.22
According to Yevin, Habimma used to have something else, that was
absent from all other theatres in the world; something which does not
necessarily have much to do with theatre, but rather with additional feel-
ing. Habimma’s decline, in his view, is actually a projection of the national
decline, for
if we would have had the fortune of seeing our liberation movement burn-
ing in the hearts with the same fire and heat it had in its beginning—then
Habimma would have certainly remained the stage of vision and the holy
spirit of our liberation movement. But we did not have this fortune. The
[national] movement is not like that; the hearts are not such. Habimma
moves from the summit to the plain.23
While Yevin thought that Habimma was still a good theatre—and, when
the time comes, might again open its gates for the national vision—he was
also very critical regarding the message which resonated from the specific
play he saw that week, Somerset Maugham’s The Sacred Flame.24 Yevin
interpreted the play as a symbol of moral decline, certain that
92 D. TAMIR
only an incurably shallow and superficial era, an era which turned its back to
the religious point of view—the point of view which sees suffering as an
integral, important and divine part of human existence, just as integral and
important as humans’ few moments of happiness—only such a shallow era
sees suffering as a mere stumbling block, which can be easily moved away
from one’s life.25
Yevin understood Somerset Maugham’s justification for the killing of sick

and invalid people—and criticised its motives rather than its ends. Yevin’s
anger was not due to the killing itself, but due to Maugham’s hypocrisy.
The ancient Spartans, Yevin argued, also killed their invalid babies, but
were not trying to claim they were doing it for the benefit of the children,
but rather for the benefit of society:
It involved cruelty and barbarism—but at least it was honest and frank. It

was a clear expression of the bestial instinct of healthy humans: to “remove”
the weak creatures who disturb him.26
In Maugham’s play, on the contrary, the killing is hypocrisy, since it is

claimed to be committed in order to “free one from his own suffering”.
Another example of humanity’s decline was also presented as evident in
a review of Oswald Spengler’s Der Mensch und die Technik published in
Ha-Àm that month.27 The review claimed that the basic danger for
humanity is the danger of the machine, and a mechanical way of thinking,
as opposed to an ideal one. “Salvation would come from the return to an
ideal way of thinking; one should turn the back upon the technical way of
thinking”. While the review’s author does not write it explicitly, it is
assumed that rationality is something to be saved from, preferably through
idealism.28
Altogether, that Hebrew year (which ended in September 1931) was a
year of decline in the eyes of Ha-Àm’s editors. “A blow followed a blow,
defeat followed defeat—all fell this year on Zionism and the community in
Palestine”. So deep were these defeats, that they “destroyed the people’s
belief in its future here in this country”.29
Such a dread of decline was shouted from the pages Ḥ azit ha-Àm as
well. “The City’s Council sold the Tel Aviv Police; A disgraceful
agreement between the city’s council and the government”, described a
headline the subordination of the municipal police to the governmental
one, and the incorporation of the local police force within the country-
wide apparatus.30
The academy too was corrupt. “The gang of traitors, concentrated

within the Hebrew College, which systematically destroyed and is still
destroying, for years, the hope of tortured Israel, was about to celebrate its
victory” was Ḥ azit ha-Àm’s description of the initiative to establish a
“Chair for International Peace” within the faculty of social sciences.31
The entire construct was rotten from its base. The house of “ancien
regime” of Zionism was so unstable, that
it’s enough to shake one brick in it in order to make the whole building col-
lapse. And the people of the old regime in Zionism feel it all too well, and
this is why—due to their basic instinct of survival—they make sure, so
meticulously, that no single brick of this building is shaken.32
Prosperous urban life was regarded by Ḥ azit ha-Àm as decadence. All

these things which make a routine life of a modern society—“the sixteen
lists in the elections for Tel Aviv’s municipality, the annual carnival, the
exhibition, the sports games, the great construction works”—all these
together are no reason to rejoice. “There is something dangerous” in this
Tel Aviv, which became a symbol of bon vivants. First, in Tel Aviv “a Jew
might sometimes forget that there is still Palestine which is not Jewish”.
Secondly, “there is something frivolous in this Tel Aviv”, which should be
“the city of Jewish revolution”, and therefore “is no place for carnivals”.
The article called its readers “not to remain silent! Jews, do not forget the
situation, the grave situation you are in!”33
That same month, the United States celebrated George Washington’s
200th birthday. But America was experiencing a total social decline, since
American Puritanism degenerated through the hypocrisy of the “prohibi-

tion”. The pilgrim was succeeded by the all-rightist, whose good material
status was eaten by the Golden Calf, whose temple is in Wall Street… a people
occupied with business and sports has no future—this is man’s act of mastur-
bation… in the days of Washington and even of Lincoln one did not spend
time on sports and records. The Americans of today, from the depths in which
they are sunken, praise Washington—like diaspora Judaism which liked, more
than anything else, to mention the personality of David, king of Israel.34
Indeed, one can differ between two attitudes towards historical personali-
ties. One is “a futile, Tolstoyan one” (as demonstrated in War and Peace)
and the other is like Carlyle’s (as in On Heroes, Hero-Worship and the
Heroic in History). An individual
94 D. TAMIR
may behold a historical hero from Tolstoy’s point of view. But miserable is
the nation which holds such a perception of heroes. Such a nation is danger-
ously ill, such a nation is covered with rust. A healthy nation, and even a part
thereof, beholds its hero only from Carlyle’s point of view.35
Altogether, it seemed that “Spengler’s prophecy about the decline of the

West, due to the degeneration of the liberal and socialist world views, is
coming true”, Aḥime’ir summarised his ideas in a letter he wrote from
prison in Jerusalem, where he was arrested after obstructing the event on
Mount Scopus. “But a great national movement is emerging in Central
Europe. It saved Europe from the parliamentary sandbank of the chatters,
and more important: national dictatorship saved the peoples of central
Europe from the C.K., civil wars and Marxist utopias”.36 In 1932, National
Socialism could be seen as an antidote to social decline.
A similar notion of social decline and failure of the official leadership
could be traced in the propaganda of the NMO under Stern’s command.
“Hebrew Youth!”, called its first official leaflets which were secretly dis-
tributed in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, “these very days the world is burning
in the fire of war, and the world Jewry is sinking in a sea of blood”. At the
same time,
the Hebrew society sinks in the mire of flattery and commerce, in the mire
of shame and prostitution. The Hellenised leaders of the people bow and
kneel in front of the foreign ruler.37
Stern’s group targeted its critic at the “Quislings of the Jewish Agency and
the Revisionist party”, thus making them all part and parcel of the same
declining leadership.38
About a week later, the party’s newspaper published the “wanted” ad
of the police, asking for information on the whereabouts of Stern and five
other NMO soldiers.39 The political rupture between the “NMO in Israel ”
and the Revisionist party—and the personal break between Stern and the
other leaders, including Yevin and Aḥime’ir—was full and complete.
Conclusion
The dread of decline had three distinct levels among members of the
examined group. First was the global level, seeing a comprehensive cul-
tural decline of modern civilisation, especially in Europe. Second was the
fear of assimilation of Jewish communities around the world, which could

cause the decline of the whole Jewish people. A third level was the fear of
social decline within the Hebrew society in Palestine.
Itamar Ben Avi, son of the father of Hebrew nationalism, did not see
any local decline. He was grieving “the dignity of mankind” which had
been humiliated by Bolshevism. The triumph of communism was, in his
opinion, a curse more than a blessing; his disappointment in the Russian
revolution was the one of a liberal, who saw one tyrannical regime replaced
by another, instead of a liberal one.
Aḥime’ir’s hatred towards socialism since the end of the 1920s was
fiercer, as one might expect from a convert. Both Ben Avi and Aḥime’ir,
however, shared a common feeling of general global cultural decline,
national decline being a part of it; that was a feeling that the entire
European civilisation—to which they felt strongly affiliated—was declin-
ing. The seeds of this idea were sown in Aḥime’ir in 1924 at the latest,
when he was writing his PhD thesis, about Oswald Spengler’s Decline of
the West.
Wolfgang Von Weisl, in his turn, was more concerned about what he
perceived as a decline of the Jewish people. The corrosive effects of liberal-
ism, secularism and socialism, he argued, were destroying Jewish commu-
nities, hence putting all their members in danger. Zionism—and in his
view during the 1930s, only Revisionist Zionism was real Zionism—
should provide an answer to this particular national decline. Still, the
decline which worried Von Weisl, though observed among certain dias-
pora people, was taking place all around the world. In Palestine, on the
contrary, he saw Hebrew renaissance and Zionist nationalism.
Brit ha-Biryonim—under the leadership of Aḥime’ir, Grünberg and
Yevin—was more geographically focused. Its rhetoric concentrated on the
decline of the Hebrew community in Palestine, whose ideas, in Grünberg’s
words, became “void, broken, boring and corrupt”. The whole Hebrew
society, as Yevin asserted, “moves from the summit to the plain”.
The “Red Danger” was perceived as a common threat at all levels.
While Ben Avi saw it as a danger to modern spirit in general, Von Weisl
saw it as a danger to Jewish youth around the world (and, interestingly, to
Arab societies as well), and members of Brit ha-Biryonim as a danger to
Hebrew youth in Palestine (Fig. 6.1).
Consequently, Abraham Stern collected all the aforementioned
threats—liberal cosmopolitanism, a satisfied bourgeoisie unwilling to fight,
inept leadership unable to mobilise the people—and incorporated them in
96 D. TAMIR
Fig. 6.1 Ze’ev Wolfgang

von Weisl, early 1930s.
Courtesy of the Jabotinsky
Institute in Israel
his world view. The idea that the only answer to social decline was rein-
vigoration of the nation through violent mobilisation would be tested
with the outbreak of the Second World War. One may assume, therefore,
that the aim of his attempt to collaborate with Germany and Italy was not
only to get rid of the British rulers, but to provide the right answer to
social decline: social integration.
* * *
Notes
1. Ha-Do’ar, “Five Years of Bolshevism”, Do’ar ha-Yom, 06.12.1922.
2. Aḥime’ir, “The Fate of Social Ideals”, Ha-Poèl ha-Tzaìr 20 (1926), issue
1–2.
3. Ibid. The last words should probably be taken in their broad sense: “hun-
ger for cultural deepness”.
4. Abba Aḥime’ir, “Current Issues: The Elections in America”, Do’ar ha-Yom,

15.11.1928.
5. Wolfgang von Weisl, “The Renewed Zionism (B): Jewish Trouble and the
Aspiration of the Jews”, Ha-Àm, 21.4.1931.
6. Ibid. The fear of Jews “disappearing” due to social assimilation in non-Jewish
societies was not unique to Von Weisl at the time.
1931). An original is kept at the CZA. PR-3693.
8. Wolfgang von Weisl, “The Renewed Zionism (C)”, Ha-Àm, 26.4.1931.
9. Ibid., original emphasis. Von Weisl’s nation of reference at that time was
mainly Jewish, not Hebrew; this is clear and understandable, if we remem-
ber that he himself was born in Vienna, and was in constant communica-
tion with Revisionists in Europe, responsible for political mobilisation
there.
10. Von Weisl, “The Renewed Zionism (D)”, Ha-Àm, 27.4.1931. Von Weisl
puts his argument explicitly against the hopes and assertions of Brit Šalom,
which he despised. At that time, members of Brit Šalom were arguing in
favour of Jewish assimilation within the non-Jewish population in Palestine.
On Brit Šalom’s ideas of ethnicity at the time see also Yfaat Weiss, “Central
European Ethnonationalism and Zionist Binationalism”, Jewish Social
Studies, Volume 11 Number 1 (2004), pp. 93–117.
11. Von Weisl, “The Renewed Zionism (E)”, Ha-Àm, 29.4.1931.
12. Von Weisl, “The Renewed Zionism (F)”, Ha-Àm, 30.4.1931.
13. Von Weisl, “The Global Economic Crisis and Zionism”, Lighthouse,
11.09.1931.
14. Ḥ ayal ha-Àm (Soldier of the People), “The Elections to the Congress:
Victory of the Revisionists”, Ha-Àm, 27–28.5.1931 (the article was pub-
lished in two parts).
15. Ibid.
16. Uri Zwi Grünberg, “And after the King hath Spoken…”, Ha-Àm,
11.6.1931.
17. Ibid.
18. “Trial of Arab Communists”, Ha-Àm, 15.5.1931.
19. Essad Bey and Wolfgang von Weisl, Allah ist gross: Niedergang und Aufstieg
der islamischen Welt von Abdul Hamid bis Ibn Saud (Leipzig: Passer,
1936).
20. Von Weisl, “An Interview with Cidqi Paša”, Ha-Àm, 3–5.6.1931.
21. Ibid.
22. Joshua Yevin, “Ha-Bimma on the Plain of Life”, Ha-Àm, 26.7.1931.
23. Ibid.
24. Somerset Maugham’s play, “The Sacred Flame”, was written and first
staged in Britain in 1928.
98 D. TAMIR
25. Yevin, ibid.

26. Ibid., my emphasis.
27. Oswald Spengler, Der Mensch und die Technik: Beitrag zu einer Philosophie
des Lebens (München: Beck, 1931).
28. “Spengler’s New Book”, Ha-Àm, 30.7.1931. The review bore no author’s
name, but it is likely Aḥime’ir, whose PhD thesis, submitted to the
University of Vienna in 1924, was an analysis of Spengler’s Decline of the
West. Compare with Zeev Strenhell, Mario Sznajder and Maia Asheri, The
Birth of Fascist Ideology: From Cultural Rebellion to Political Revolution
(Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994), pp. 255–257.
29. Von Weisl, “The Global Economic Crisis and Zionism”, Migdalor,
11.09.1931.
30. Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 29.1.32.
31. People’s Diary (editorial), “We Are Furious and Shocked”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm,
12.2.1932. The “Hebrew College” is what will soon be known as the
Hebrew University.
32. Yevin, “The Fear of Revision”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 11.3.1932.
33. Stam Maqšan (pseudonym), “And a Desert within the Heart…”, Ḥ azit
ha-Àm, 15.3.1932. The exhibition is the “Oriental Fair”; the sports
games are the Maccabi games which were held that month in Tel Aviv.
34. Aḥime’ir, “Washington”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 18.3.1932.
35. Ibid. Aḥime’ir refers here to Thomas Carlyle, On Heroes, Hero-Worship and
the Heroic in History (London: Chapman and Hall, 1872). The book was
translated into Hebrew in Warsaw, in 1920.
36. Aḥime’ir, “Letter to the Youth”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 29.3.1932. The article
was written in the central prison in Jerusalem, on 17.3.1932.
37. Leaflet of the NMO in Israel No. 7 (December 1941), JA K5–1/2.
38. Leaflet of the NMO in Israel No. 9 (January 1942), JA K5–1/2.
39. Ha-Mašqif, 3.2.1942.
CHAPTER 7
Nation, Unification, Consolidation
It was two weeks after the Fascist seizure of power. In a report titled “The
Victory of the ‘Fascists’”, Ḥ ayim Vardi—a “special reporter in Rome” of
the daily newspaper Do’ar ha-Yom—wrote that Mussolini “was able to
prove to the government that the fascist forces are huge, and that the
majority of the people pursues this great ideal: a strong Patria, with glory
and fame”.1 Naturally, not everybody was happy with the new political
deal. “The leftists”, Vardi wrote,
mourn the fact that Italy is now in the hands of the black forces, and are
afraid of the beginning of a horrible period of reaction. But their fear is use-
less. It was neither the sinister forces nor the Black Shirts who took over, and
“a horrible reaction” will never take place in Italy… In fact, it is the “prole-
tariat” which adheres to Fascism. It is worth noting that many socialists and
even anarchists turned to the winning camp after their parties were destroyed
by their opponents.
Vardi had no doubt that “this internal war should not be regarded as the
war of reaction against free opinion”. He explained his political diagnose
by arguing that
for the last three years there were eight crises in Italy, and the government
could not govern well, due to fear, favoritism and negligence. In one of his
excellent speeches, Mussolini said that Italy had enough with a government
which obeys the various parties; what Italy needs now is a government able

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-73679-2_7
100 D. TAMIR
to force the prevailing anarchy to obey it… There was a considerable need
for a strong and confident government, a stable and frugal control. This is
the reason why the fascists conquered Rome without using their weapons
and armed warriors.2
In Vardi’s view, fascism was the political method which provided a cure for
social disintegration and political division. It was a social and political tool
enabling the Italian government to rule effectively.
A few years later, in September 1928, Abba Aḥime’ir began to write a
weekly column in Do’ar ha-Yom; the column bore the title “From the
Notebook of a Fascist”. Ze’ev Jabotinsky, head of the Revisionist Zionist
movement, was about to arrive in Palestine, and the Mandate authorities
were willing to grant him an entry visa under certain conditions.
Aḥime’ir—a sceptical socialist a few years earlier and a devoted nationalist
by that time—sharply criticised the opinion expressed in the liberal news-
paper Ha-‘Aretz and its socialist companion Dabar: both claimed that
Jabotinsky (who was already perceived as their political opponent from the
right wing) should be granted an entry visa—exactly as communists activ-
ists (their opponents from the left) should.
Aḥime’ir, it seems, took this syllogism as a personal insult. “The ‘gen-
tlemanhood’ of M.G. from Ha-‘Aretz and M.B. from Dabar”,3 he wrote,
…is the same vegetarian gentlemanhood which played a central role in the
Bolshevists’ ascension to the throne in Russia… the same public vegetarian-
ism which allowed Trotsky to enter Russia, and opposed sentencing Lenin
and Trotsky the way Luxemburg and Liebknecht were sentenced in
Germany.4
Communists were clearly outcasts for Aḥime’ir. Making an important dis-

tinction between religion and political affiliation, he declared that he does
not support the free entrance of Jews to our land, but only the free entrance
of Zionists. Zionists are the only ones we need here.
Happy to see that the British authorities put obstacles not only before
Zionists but in the way of immigrants suspected of taking part in commu-
nist activities, Aḥime’ir—in a rare expression of approval of anything done
by the Mandate regime—actually praised the British authorities
NATION, UNIFICATION, CONSOLIDATION 101
for the process of disinfecting our country of that bacteria carrying the social
illness known as “communism”, scientifically called morus russotum, “The
Russian Malady”.
These actions of the government, however, were not enough. Therefore,

Aḥime’ir argued,
we should do something about the fact that not all communists were
deported, and some of them still walk around here, among us. We should
firmly demand the deportation of each and every communist, and not as the
consequence of a legal “procedure”: a communist should be sent out of our
country not by a legal decree, but by the administrative authority of the
clerkship. The war against each and every communist is not enough: one
should fight against communists and communism alike.5
To avoid any doubt, he clarified that not only communism, but all foreign
and non-nationalist ideologies should be uprooted from Palestine. The
Hebrew society
shall also be allowed to harbour that indulgences named “liberalism, human

rights and socialism” in their Brussels version in a hundred years, when our
stable state is established. Liberalism—in its wider sense, not necessarily that
of the party—is possible in Great Britain; human rights are the privilege of
France, more than a century after its revolution; socialism’s nice gestures
have their place in organised Belgium, with its dense population and devel-
oped industry… But at the outset of our war for statehood, we cannot
afford ourselves such “luxuries”.6
The desired integration was not only in the sphere of political parties and
organisations, but in the realm of culture and language as well. Two days
after Jabotinsky’s arrival in Jaffa, members of the Tel-Aviv club of the
Marxist-socialist party “Po‘aley Zion” held a public meeting, headed by
the party’s chairman, Jacob Zrubabel. This meeting was not only a social-
ist event, but was also planned to be conducted in Yiddish. A squad of
Beytar activists tried to break into the socialist club and hamper the event;
13 people were injured in the violent quarrel which broke out between
Beytar activists and socialist Yiddish-speaking militants.7
Ignoring the inconvenient fact that these were Hebrew Beytar activ-
ists who stormed the socialist Yiddish club and not vice versa, Itamar Ben
Avi lamented the fact that “some thugs came in defence of the jargon
102 D. TAMIR
[i.e. Yiddish]… especially these days, when common unity is needed—a

sacred unity in front of the common enemy [i.e. Muslims and Arab
nationalists]”.8
In the spring of 1931, the question of national unity surfaced in regard
to agricultural labour. Landowners in Kfar Saba were looking for seasonal
workers; as the “Federation of Hebrew Workers in Palestine” (commonly
known as “The Federation”, in Hebrew: “Ha-Histadrut”) could not
mobilise enough workers, some members of the Revisionist party and the
Beytar movement went to work there, in order to prevent the farmers
from hiring “Arab” workers. While the “socialist” inclination of the
Federation was usually subdued to its nationalist practice (i.e. building
Hebrew institutions and supporting “Hebrew” workers in their competi-
tion against “Arab” workers), the mobilisation and employment of Beytar
workers without the socialist Federation’s mediation led to a heated debate
between it and the Revisionists. “We fully acknowledge the great obstacles
lying on the way towards the economic integration of Hebrew immigrants
in Palestine”, wrote Abba Aḥime’ir in a letter to the heads of the Federation.
He stressed, however, that “not only the workers, but other pioneers of
Hebrew settlement as well must overcome huge difficulties”—hinting, in
line with the fascist corporatist theory, that not only manual labourers are
pioneers. Calling for social cohesion, Aḥime’ir stated that
any attempt to violate the Hebrew front’s unity in this war strikes a severe
blow to the Zionist project. It is precisely our clear recognition of the neces-
sary superiority of the nation’s cause which makes us believe that the unity
of the professional movement in Palestine is highly desired, and that it is
necessary to block any factor which may lead to the emergence of parallel
trade unions.9
That said, Aḥime’ir reminded his addressees that “we should not ignore
the fact that in other countries… one may find examples for different pro-
fessional unions which exist one next to the other, without harming the
cause of the workers”. As an example for such unions he mentioned the
freie Gewerkschaften in Germany. In other words: unity is desired, as long
as it goes in one line with the Revisionist’s political agenda, and under
their dominance.
Aḥime’ir then referred to the desired organisation of the national
labour force. He quotes Bustenaj, the official newspaper of the farmer’s
union, where farmers declared they “demand a neutral employment
office… while all the economic disputes should be settled through

arbitration”. This clear adaptation of corporatism was necessary for the
sake of national cohesion, in Aḥime’ir’s opinion, since
the “Federation” educates its members by the principles of class struggle,

and carries out a series of strikes… severely harming the young and fragile
Hebrew economy, which has not yet taken roots… the “Federation” sticks
to these principles against the will of many of the workers who think—like
all the national-political minded Zionist public—that in the time of the con-
struction of the Hebrew statehood, any kind of active class struggle is a
national crime.10
Furthermore, “the Federation created, at the expense of the general

Zionist budget, a whole network of schools, which stands parallel to the
general national schools—a thing that many people regard as an intolera-
ble insult to Hebrew education’s unity”.11
This dispute over the organisation of the labour force was just the
beginning of a wider and deeper conflict between the Revisionists and the
Labour stream within the Zionist movement. This conflict culminated in
the Revisionists’ withdrawal from the Zionist Organisation in 1931, and
the inauguration of a parallel organisation (the New Zionist Organisation)
in 1935.
Finding the balance between the desire for national integration and the
need to maintain a proud, uncompromising policy was not an easy task.
“We shall use all our means in order to promote Israel’s unity in Palestine”,
wrote Wolfgang von Weisl after the Revisionists boycotted the elections to
the Jewish “national committee” of the Zionist organisation in Palestine,
“but we shall not take part in this game of agreed-upon lies, just for the
sake of satisfying our opponents, letting them hold the reins in the future
as well”.12
National integration was not just a matter of technical electoral consoli-
dation, but of cultural means as well. That same month (amid the usual
sharp criticism of Weizmann and the “General Zionists”), an editorial in
Ha-Àm heaped compliments on two Hebrew journals abroad. “We, the
extreme Hebrews [sic], who see the issue of language from an extreme
point of view… gained some pleasure this week”, opened the editorial.
The author was happy to learn that two Hebrew journals (Ha-Tzfira in
Eastern Europe and Ha-Òlam in Western Europe) would continue to be
published regularly.13 The publishing of Ha-Tzfira was a “double joy”,
104 D. TAMIR
since that journal was Hebrew, Zionist and non-partisan, that is, neither
pro-liberal nor socialist. The editorial expressed its joy for the publishing
of Ha-Òlam as well, in spite of the fact that the Revisionists (or, to use
the editor’s words, “the extreme Hebrews”), had “a bitter dispute with
this weekly, which serves as the voice of Great Russell Street and all its
experiments”. But Ha-Àm cordially greeted “every platform which helps
expressing the Hebrew language and the Hebrew spirit around the
world”.14 In a more ironic tone a few weeks later, the editor of Ha-Àm
was happy to inform his readers that Ha-Àretz, Dabar and Ha-Poèl
ha-Tzaìr all joined Ha-Àm’s call on the government to supply Zionist
settlements with guns, after the attack on Yagur a few weeks earlier.15
Naturally, the writers of Ha-Àm were aware of the fact that public
debates between different opinions are a part of modern mass politics.
“We are a people like all other peoples, with both revolutionaries and con-
servatives”, wrote Aḥime’ir in an article commemorating 50 years since
the death of Benjamin Disraeli, reflecting on Beaconsfield’s conserva-
tism.16 More often than not, however, the tone was not so friendly. “In
this journal… we shall call the things by their names. We shall call the
traitors—traitors” promised the Biryonim to their readers,17 summoning
them not only for war “against the hostile British rulers” but against “the
traitors from within”, these “agents of the rulers, among the ‘Zionist’
leadership” as well.18
As preparations for the Zionist Congress entered high gear, the
Revisionist party did the best it could to mobilise its supporters. “Zionist!
Arm yourself with the Šeqel!”, read an ad in the paper in April that year.
The aim was to “turn the ‘round table’ upside down; drive the representa-
tives of the rich men away from the national institutions; eradicate the
reign of the Red International upon our institutions”.19 Thus, the revi-
sionists tried to portray themselves both as anti-bourgeois and as protec-
tors of the workers, and, at the same time, as anti-communists, thus
appealing to a wide constituency.
Although the preparations for the Zionist congress required consider-
able investment of time and energy by the small Revisionist group, it did
not forget its cultural obligations. “The poet Šaul Tschernichowski came
to Palestine yesterday”, read the title in Ha-Àm one of those days; the
newspaper expressed its hope that “this time he will stay with us”.
Clearly, he was not the first Hebrew modern poet, but one of the most
important among them. His contribution to the building of a unifying
myth was, in the view of Ha-Àm, invaluable. He was the one who
“created the world- view of the renewed national Judaism, with its
ancient biblical heroes. Renewed Zionism is imbued with primordial
romantic of ancient Israel”.
A physician by trade (graduate of the University of Lausanne),
Tschernichowski was responsible for the “national renaissance” in Hebrew
culture. Thanks to his romantic poems, “the lovers of culture had risen,
removing the literary pile of ashes which had covered the pearls of the
nation’s youth, thus revealing its national epic”.20
* * *
The day of elections to the Zionist Organisation’s assembly arrived.

The opponents’ way was one of deception and blurring; it injected “poi-
son, heresy and despair into our systems”, Joshua Yevin claimed. “The list
of Ze’ev Jabotinsky”, on the other hand,
is not a list of a party; it is not just one Zionist stream among others, but the
list of Zionism—Zionism, standing up and resurrecting everywhere.21
The same claim was repeated two days later, as the results of the elections
began to pour in. “It turns out that in Palestine there are only two parties:
Brit Šalom and the Left on the one hand, versus the Revisionist Zionism
and the national element among the Mizraḥi” on the other. Probably con-
templating a future alliance with its representatives in the Congress,
Ha-Àm promised the Mizraḥi—a faction of religious Zionists—that “the
new, revised Zionism views the whole people of Israel as one unit, without
exception, knowing to appreciate the full value of Hebrew religion and
ritual…”.22 From that point on, the editorial asserted, the road was paved
for purging the Zionist Organisation of those undesired elements, since
this was the last time that the leeches had the budget, the money and the
possibility to keep their delegates standing on their feet. Their end has
come. The elections in January buried the center; the elections of May
sealed its grave. But the elections of May also defeated Mapay, and the con-
gress will dig their pit. The bankrupts are gone. Long live Revisionist
Zionism!23
The Revisionist press was cheerful. The prospects for a new era, free from
annoying political opponents, seemed promising. A few days later, in an
introduction to his interview with Cidqi Paša, Egypt’s ruler, Wolfgang
106 D. TAMIR
Von Weisl was also very amicable towards Cidqi when quoting him as
saying that “the Wafd was ruling for years in a one-party dictatorship”.24
From the tone of the paragraph it is clear that Von Weisl did not oppose
such a political system.
But the Spring of joy was short: the newspaper was closed, by decree of
the British authorities, during the Zionist Congress in Basel. “We hereby
inform our readers and subscribers that due to the command of the High
Commissioner, the printing of Ha-Àm has been stopped until further
notice”, announced the newspaper in a leaflet signed by its editorial board
and managing committee.25 The timing of the closure, one may assume,
was not incidental: even if the British authorities did not deliberately try to
influence the proceedings of the Congress in Basel (they actually did not
have the ability to do that), they probably did not want to have a vocifer-
ous “trouble maker” in the form of a Revisionist newspaper during the
tense days of the Zionist meeting.
The closure, however, was not too long. “For two weeks, the blue-
white paper was not published”, stated an editorial after a fortnight. “The
people did not feel satisfied with the other three papers, since one of them
is red, the second is gray and the third—yellow”.26 For two weeks,
Ha-Àm’s editorial argued, there was
an “idyll”: the clerks could be sure that no one will provide the public with
new details about the corruption and the waste of funds—because the emis-
saries of the socialist [sic!] government shut the mouth of Zionism… but
now the Zionist word of Herzl-Jabotinsky lives again! The Zionist heart and
consciousness beat again!
But even if Revisionism had won that battle, the war was not over yet,
since “the sword of closure is still hanging above the newspaper, for many
wish to see it shut down”. This array of enemies was great and varied. It
included Arabist nationalists, the British government, socialist and liberal
Zionists. “Many people addressed us and asked when will the newspaper
be printed again”, the article informed the readers, finding also the reason
for that:
for Ha-Àm is more than just a party paper, more than a one-stream news-
paper. Ha-Àm delivers the voice of the whole community in Palestine.
In other words: Revisionist Zionism is the only political truth, to which all
other ideological factions and groups should adapt.
The Congress in Basel was the peaking point of crisis atmosphere. “For
eight years I have been living in Palestine, and I always hear that ‘dialectic
of windmills’ about Realpolitik and ‘creating and building’—and we have
reached a complete catastrophe”, said Uri Zwi Grünberg in his speech at
the congress.27 His clear conclusion was that “in these days what we need
for the community is a union of brotherhood and salvation—and we
believe it is possible”.28
The Revisionist secession from the Zionist Organisation, at that
Congress, paved the road for the establishment of an independent
Revisionist organisation, long aspired to and preached for by the activist
wing within the movement. Aḥime’ir found this was the right time for a
long, detailed historical review of political Zionism whose most authentic
bearer, in his view, was Revisionism. Aḥime’ir did not want to establish a
new organisation based on the same principles of the old one, but rather
a new organisation with new principles, “which fit the new spirit of
Revisionist Zionism”.
This extreme political move forced him to refer to the evident contra-
diction between the movement’s declared aspiration to unify the nation
on the one hand, and the practical political act of breaking the lines on the
other. Aḥime’ir argued that “not every union is a sign of power, and not
every splitting is a sign of weakness”. Ahimeir’s explanation was that the
political struggle within Zionism (and all around the world) is a genera-
tional one, and therefore unavoidable: the social change was essential and
qualitative, disintegrating the basic fabric of modern societies. After
millions of young people lost their lives in the Great War and the Russian
revolution,
generations replaced classes. The youth now demands its due, “taking
revenge” of the generation which was sitting at home during the years of
disaster… the war between liberalism and socialism on the one hand to com-
munism and fascism on the other is a war between fathers and sons. In Israel
too, a war is waged between official Zionism—which is allied with the
Agency—and young, poor, “working Palestine”, concentrated around
Revisionist Zionism. This is a fathers-sons war as well. Revisionist Zionism
has nothing to learn from Zionism and Zionists: neither ideology nor
tactic.29
That deep change affected the national consciousness. While “before the
war, nationalism belonged to the bourgeoisie, whereas the hungry cared
for cosmopolitan ideals”, after the war came
108 D. TAMIR
Italian fascism, raising the prestige of the youth—whose bones are scattered
over all the battlefields, in Europe and beyond it. A synthesis was created
between class and nation, a national revolutionary movement and a prole-
tarian revolutionary movement. And if this is the case among other nations,
then even more in Israel, for by no other nation or tongue is the national
idea so revolutionary and popular as in the Israeli nation; no other nation is
so deeply betrayed by its magnates as our nation….30
The political struggle, in other words, was not between different parts
within the nation, but between those who care for the nation and fight for
it—and those who betrayed it.31
This became the clear new line of Revisionist activists. From now on,
their desire for national integration was juxtaposed against the fragmented
tendencies of other political parties. “Revisionist Zionism in Palestine—
like all around world—is not the movement of the wealthy”, because it
unifies “the youth, the worker, the artisan and the Zionist intelligentsia”.32
From that moment on, Revisionist Zionism was not, in the eyes of the
activists, a Zionist party any more—but an alternative to the entire Zionist
organisation as a whole.
In this line of thought it is no wonder, therefore, that those who
opposed Revisionist views were perceived as betraying the nation. The
best-known example thereof were probably members of Brit Šalom—
foremost J.L. Magnes, the Chancellor of the Hebrew University at that
time: members of his group were simply marked as “traitors”.33
The attempt by Magnes to name the chair for international relations,
held by Professor Norman Bentwich, “The Chair for International Peace”,
triggered furious protest among the Maximalists. Analysing the speech
delivered by Bentwich at the Chair’s inauguration ceremony, in which he
differentiated between divine Jerusalem and earthly Jerusalem (praising
the former), Aḥime’ir claimed that Bentwich is “not only an extreme
assimilationist… but also a Christian missionary, objectively”.34
Bentwich’s was the most famous, but not the only case in which Ḥ azit
ha-Àm warned its readership about “the damage caused by the infiltra-
tion of internationalist ideas”. Such was the danger among the “Jewish”
farmers in Palestine, who preferred employing “Arab” rather than “Jewish”
workers. Ḥ azit ha-Àm argued that these farmers were thus establishing
“a kind of a ‘Fourth International’, whose goals are harmful and danger-
ous for Zionism, because they create unemployment and cause hunger
among the pioneers, while the hands of foreigners are full of work”.
The desired situation was the employment of “Jews” (i.e. Zionists) only.
The newspaper declared one should fight against this “Fourth
International” at least as one should fight against the Second and the
Third Internationals, “for one has to put an end to this alienation among
many farmers in our country towards the Jewish pioneer”.35
In Yevin’s view, the problem was not Magnes and the pacifist members
of Brit Šalom—who were “very consequent and true” with their beliefs—
but with the Zionist leaders who cooperate with them and let them con-
trol the University, and the Revisionists who let this happen:
If after these things there will be no purging on Mount Scopus; if we do not

act now and finally remove off the stage this Stab, which is stabbing his dag-
ger in the back of this tortured and persecuted people; if we don’t shut
down this branch of Yevsektsiya on Mount Scopus—then we shall be consid-
ered as criminals, not Magnes.36
The people, hence, is in a war of last resort, for life and death. In such a
situation,
the presence among us of these traitors, who are willing to shake the bloody
hands of Hebron’s murderers on our behalf—this presence does not only
put us in danger; it renders the war lost in advance.37
Considering this great danger, Yevin stressed that this time he does not
want to address neither the Revisionists nor members of various socialist
or liberal parties, but just
Jews! Yes, simple Jews—all of you… if you still have time to prepare—be
very awake! Do not fall asleep before the great thunder! We have some more
time, so let’s take advantage of it, and purify our camp from these traitors.38
Ḥ azit ha-Àm continued using the hostility towards Magnes and Bentwich
as a vehicle for mobilising the public in a campaign for political integra-
tion. “The national-Zionist commandment commits us to fight, without
any concession or compromise, for the purging of the Mount Scopus
college from betrayal and denial”, stated an editorial in the newspaper. “It
is high time that the younger generation would take the flag of Hebrew
community from those who hold it with their dirty hands, for it is high
time to purify the land of all the impurity and filth in our Hebrew-Missionary
institutions”.39
110 D. TAMIR
Reminding the socialist Zionist parties how their leaders had acted 20
years earlier in national debates,40 the editor of Ḥ azit ha-Àm declared
that
today as well, dire present needs oblige us to purify the hall of impurity on
Mount Scopus. Because in this moment of great danger to our existence,
sevenfold dangerous are the blows which pour on us from within… indeed,
if these people would now read what they wrote themselves then, and see
what came out of them now… then they should be frightened by their deep
decline, which has no precedent in the history of any other liberation move-
ment in the world.41
Considering the indifference of the socialists and the liberals towards the
danger, Revisionist Zionism is fighting the war of the entire people. “We,
people of rebellious Zionism, fighting the war of the youth who stands
underneath our flag, against all Zionism’s enemies, are simultaneously
representing the entire people”, wrote Yevin. It is the entire people’s war
that the Revisionists are waging, both against its external enemies “and
those depriving it of its rights internally”.42
Aḥime’ir made the same point clear in his speech in the Revisionist
world conference in Vienna, at the beginning of September that year.
“Democracy has been defeated everywhere… more than that: it has gone
bankrupt. What other proof do you need?”, he asked his audience.
Altogether, he concluded that after the Great War, “this century is the
century of youth and dictatorship… what I bring you is a new social form,
free of principles and party”.43
And indeed, this notion of the creation of a new social form was taking
roots in the Hebrew society. “The objective historian would see the Italian
fascism as the most important phenomenon of the 20th century”, wrote
in Tel Aviv in 1936 the editor of the first biography of Benito Mussolini to
be published in Hebrew. In his opinion, no objective historian will deny
that Italian Fascism “has the abundant treasure of national vigour, which
brought a failed, subjected and suppressed people towards great deeds—
deeds which made Italy one of the strongest superpowers in the world”.44
But the publication of that book was not only for the sake of learned aca-
demic analysis. On the practical level, the editor was convinced that
there is a lesson to be taken from this Italy. Especially we, the Jews, who
haven’t yet learned how to elevate the national idea to the degree of a
monotheistic belief, which is the only criterion for measuring our life—must
learn the wonders that the fascist movement has created, mostly in the
national sphere.45
This biography of Mussolini was written by Zwi Kolitz. Born in Lithuania

in 1912, he migrated with his family to Palestine at a young age. During
the 1930s he studied at the University of Florence and at the Naval School
in Civitavecchia. Upon his return to Palestine he became a member of the
National Military Organisation.46
Kolitz’s admiration of Mussolini and the way he strengthened Italian
nationality was blatant. “Already during his ‘leftist’ period, Mussolini was
not impressed by the idea of elections and decisive majority”, he wrote.
“For him, elections are just a mean, while the aim was different: the nation,
its unification, consolidation, welfare and strength”.47 Referring to the
first laws of corporations (enacted in January 1927), Kolitz opined that
strikes and closures are a national crime, and become impossible and unnec-
essary according to these laws… the state—and only the state—is the sole
organiser, manager and commander of all walks of life within it… there are
no classes within the people! The entire people is one class, one movement,
one aspiration and one aim.48
Kolitz concluded that “the worker and the employer, the soldier and the
General—all are producers. Each and every citizen—if he’s just within it,
accepting its authority—plays a role of production as a part of the gigantic
machine of Mussolini’s state”.49 Kolitz, however, did not explain how it is
possible to live in Italy without the state which is omnipresent, integrating
all citizens into one organic society.
The traditions and conditions of Italian society were different from
those of the Hebrew one, and accordingly also the measures to be taken
in order to integrate them. But the ideal was the same nonetheless.
“Another question coming up all the more forcefully and of greater
importance these perturbed days is the question of national unity”, wrote
Abraham Stern in one of the notebooks which were found in his apartment
after his death. The official leaders of the Hebrew community, who “talk
about unity dawn and dusk” are lying, he concluded: “they speak about
unity, but think about separation”. The NMO in Israel, on the other hand,
aims towards “a national unity around the flag of the movement for
Hebrew liberty. Unity of the hearts, unity of acts, unity of the target and
unity of means.”50
112 D. TAMIR
Stern clearly saw a process of generating the Hebrew people out of the
Jewish one. In his writings (and the publications of the NMO in Israel,
until his murder), the distinction was clear between “Jews” around the
world and Hebrews in Palestine. In his view,
the evacuation of the Jewish masses out of Europe is a precondition for solv-
ing the Jewish question, which may become possible only by the resettle-
ment of these masses back in the homeland of the Jewish people, in Palestine,
and by establishing the State of the Jews within its historical borders.51
This way of “solving the Jewish problem” while “liberating the Jewish
people once and for all” was “the aim of the political activity and the years
old battle of the Israelite liberty movement”.
The process of national integration was, to a large extent, a process of
change, from “Jews” into “Hebrews”.52 “It is no coincidence that the
Nazi movement, which had until now shown a great talent for seeing
things, saw the Hebrew people [world Jewry] as a force aiming to take
over the world”, he wrote. “One cannot rule out the possibility that if all
the astounding talents of the world’s Jews, their conquering vigor, their
outstanding stubbornness and their universal knowledge all concentrated
in one channel and aimed at taking the power—the people of Israel would
have been one of the greatest peoples in the world.”53
Whatever the desired social processes were, they should be all encom-
passing. Stern’s conclusion was that if one wishes to “redeem the whole
public, the people, one cannot redeem only one party or class”.54
Still, in political practice Stern found there is “no place for an artificial
unity in the format of adding a representative [to a unified national leader-
ship]. Despite the desired unity, the NMO in Israel should keep its inde-
pendence”.55 In this, he faced the same dilemma as Aḥime’ir and Yevin
faced about a decade earlier: a dilemma between the wish to integrate the
whole society on the one hand, and the refusal to make any compromise
on the other.
For Stern, “Unity and Unification” were “not something external,
mechanical, the joining of humans, a technical thing—but organic, natural
unity; maintaining one single idea”.56 His basic vision seems like a Hebrew
translation of Mussolini’s platform. “When we have the reins of power”,
he promised “the whole people, including its soldiers and workers, will
live life of dignity and liberty in the free homeland.”
An interesting point here, however, is the make-up of the people—

especially in light of his referring to “Jews” as the basis of that people.
Stern already declared there that “our Hebrew government shall do great
works for the benefit of the Land and its inhabitants”—not only “the
Jewish people”.57
Stern, though, did not even try to conceal what his political role models
are. The NMO, he asserted, believed that “a community of interests may
be established between the attempt to enact a new order in Europe accord-
ing to the German concept, and the real national aspirations of the Jewish
people, which are represented by the NMO”. Hence “a cooperation
between New Germany and a renewed, popular-national Hebrewness
would be possible”. His movement, therefore, offered “active participa-
tion in the war on the German side”, with the aim of “establishing the
historical State of the Jews on national and totalitarian principles”.58
We can conclude, therefore, that the desired social integration, in
Stern’s view at that time, had two aspects. First was the transformation of
the Jewish diaspora into a local Hebrew one. The second aspect was inte-
grating all inhabitants of Palestine, not only the “Jews”, into a part of this
society—which should be a totalitarian one.59
Conclusion
The need for close integration of a purer national community was expressed
in the writings of all the members of the examined group. Already in
1922, the Fascist seizure of power and the Fascists’ intention to solidify
Italian society were perceived by the liberal writers of Do’ar ha-Yom as the
right answer to the political threat posed by Communism.
In 1928, the newspaper began to take a more nationalist direction.
Abba Aḥime’ir saw the liberals’ becoming accustomed to communist
activity as a part of the threat. He preached, therefore, for combat against
all the political streams which were not nationalist enough—liberals,
socialists and communists alike. Ben Avi, on his part, concentrated his
appeal for integration in the cultural sphere, admonishing the usage of
foreign languages.
However, even the riots of 1929 and the White Paper of 1930 did not
create the “union of brotherhood and salvation” preached for by
Grünberg. The secession from the Zionist Organisation in 1931 proved
actually to be a step in the opposite direction. Yevin’s call for “simple
114 D. TAMIR
Jews” to join them did not help much: the Maximalists remained a small
minority.
Just as unsuccessful was Stern’s call for “national unity of the hearts,
unity of acts, unity of the target and unity of means”. Furthermore, his
group remained marginal even within the Revisionist camp. His vision of
integration remained secluded within his group’s messianic-futuristic
manifesto (“The 18 Principles of Renaissance”). It was far-reaching—
envisioning not only an integration of an existing people but actually the
creation of a new one—but it bore no practical fruits.
Two main tensions continuously accompanied the idea of integration
preached by the members of the group. Although the severity of these
tensions increased and decreased alternately during the 1920s and 1930s,
they remained unsolved.
The first tension was between the Maximalists’ desire to integrate the
Hebrew society in Palestine into one—by violence, if needed—and
Revisionist liberal tendencies, which were also supported by the leader
they admired. In April 1931, for example, Aḥime’ir, as a representative of
Brit ha-Biryonim, preached in favour of uncompromising national inte-
gration, while writing that very same week—as a columnist in Ha-Àm—
an article commemorating the parliamentary politics of Disraeli.
The second tension was between the wish to integrate society and the
unwillingness to make compromises—even tactical ones—to bring about
that aim. Finding the balance between the desire for national integration
and the need to maintain a proud, uncompromising policy was not an easy
task for the Maximalists; “Promoting Israel’s unity in Palestine”, as
Wolfgang von Weisl defined it, required taking part in a “game of agreed-
upon lies”—a thing they refused to do.
Despite continuous appraisal of strong integration and contempt
towards unwanted liberal and socialist elements, the majority of the public
was not convinced. The Maximalist cow wanted to provide more than the
Hebrew calf was willing to drink.
The political process perceived necessary to solve this problem had two
phases. The first phase was a move from being a political party within soci-
ety to providing a political alternative to all other political parties. The
second imagined phase was a move from this polarised zero sum game
into providing an alternative to the political game altogether. The process,
however, never actually took place, and remained theoretical—at least
until 1948.
* * *
Notes
1. Ḥ ayim Vardi, “Victory of the Fascists” [Nicḥon ha-Fašisŧim], Do’ar ha-
Yom, 12.11.1922.
2. Ibid.
3. Moše Josef Glücksohn (1878–1939) was the chief editor of Ha-‘Aretz at
that time. “M.B.” probably refers to Moše Beilinsohn (1889–1936), one
of the senior journalists and editors of the socialist daily newspaper Dabar.
4. Abba Aḥime’ir, “On the Issue of the Visa for Jabotinsky (From the
Notebook of a Fascist)”, Do’ar ha-Yom, 21.09.1928.
5. Ibid.
6. Ibid.
7. Zohar Šabiŧ, “Tel Avivian, Speak Hebrew!: The Partial Success of the
Hebrew Revolution” [Tel Abibi, Daber Ìbrit! Àl ha-Haclaḥa ha-Ḥ elqit
šel Mahapekat ha-Ìbrit], Panim 45 (2008), pp. 50–65.
8. Ben Avi, “The War among Brothers in Tel Aviv” [Milḥemet ha-‘Aḥim
b-Tel Abib], Do’ar ha-Yom, 8.10.1928.
9. A letter by Aḥime’ir to the Federation of the Hebrew Workers in Palestine,
2.6.1931. JA, P-5/1/3.
10. Ibid.
11. Ibid.
12. Wolfgang Von Weisl, “The Agreed-Upon Lies of the National Committee”,
Ha-Àm, 25.3.1931.
13. Editorial, “‘The Siren’ and ‘The World’”, Ha-Àm, 31.3.1931.
14. Ibid. “Great Russel Street” was a general code for the British colonial pol-
icy. The same day, a headline on the front page announced that “Hitler
wins in Austria too: 64 NS representatives elected at State Elections in
Salzburg”. Another headline read “Dictatorship for the Sake of
Parliamentarism”: news agencies reported that Germany entered a “State
of Siege”, after the German government issued a decree aimed at “oppos-
ing hooliganism”, in response to “the recent clashes between the ‘National
Socialists’ and the Communists”. Ha-Àm (and later Ḥ azit ha-Àm) kept
using a relatively balanced tone in reports about NS activities in Germany,
at least until 1933.
15. Editorial, “We’re all United!”, Ha-Àm, 21.4.1931.
16. Aḥime’ir, “Around Beaconsfield”, Ha-Àm, 19.4.1931.
1931). An original is kept at the CZA. PR-3693.
18. Brit ha-Biryonim, “Jews! Zionists!”, Ha-Biryon 5 (April 1931). An origi-
nal is kept at the CZA. PR-3693.
116 D. TAMIR
19. An ad in Ha-Àm, 30.4.1931. The “Šeqel” was the membership fee,

which gave its owner the right to vote in the elections for the Zionist
Organisation’s assembly.
20. “Šeul Tschernichowski: Poet of Israeli Renaissance” (no author), Ha-Àm,
19.5.1931.
21. Yevin, “The Day of Judgment”, Ha-Àm, 25.5.1931.
22. The People’s Soldier [“Ḥ ayal ha-Àm”] (editorial), “The Elections to the
Congress: Victory of the Revisionists”, Ha-Àm, 27–28.5.1931, original
emphasis. “Mizraḥi” was a party of religious Zionists. For the recent analy-
sis of the political history of this party, see Nadav Shelef, Evolving
Nationalism: Homeland, Identity and Religion in Israel, 1925–2005
(Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2010), chaps. 2 and 4.
23. Ha-Àm, ibid.
24. Von Weisl “An Interview with Cidqi Paša”, Ha-Àm, 3–5.6.1931.
25. Message (in the format of the front page), 16.6.1931.
26. The People’s Diary (editorial), “Ha-Àm is again in Print”, Ha-Àm,
2.7.1931. The “red” is Dabar, Mapay’s official daily newspaper; the “gray”
is Ha-‘Aretz, the liberal newspaper which was seen as affiliated to the
“General Zionists”; the “yellow” was Do’ar ha-Yom, Itamar Ben Avi’s pri-
vate newspaper, which was perceived as a cheap tabloid.
27. “The full speech of U.C. Grünberg”, Ha-‘Am, 17.7.1931. The 17th
Zionist Congress convened in Basel between June 30 and July 15, 1931.
28. Ibid. See also footnotes 30–32 to chapter 3 in this book.
30. Ibid.
31. The debate within the Revisionist movement in favour of the secession and
against it made a whole distinct episode. One should note, however, that
Jabotinsky, as the leader of the Revisionist party, continuously and consis-
tently denied the possibility of taking the power by force or using any
violent methods within the Zionist organisation. Jabotinsky made it clear a
few weeks later in his article “Independence or Extinction”, Migdalor
[“Lighthouse”], 11.09.1931. This double refusal—both to compromise
and to use violent methods in order to take over the Zionist organisation—
was probably an important factor in his decision to secede.
32. “The Adventures of the Revisionist Newspaper in Palestine” (no author),
Migdalor [“Lighthouse”], 11.09.1931.
33. “After the Troubles at the College: The Burst of Anger in Tel Aviv
Regarding the Scandal on Mount Traitors”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 16.2.1932.
34. Abba Siqra’ (Aḥime’ir), “Bentwich the Assimilationist—and the
Missionary”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 19.2.1932.
35. Ibid. The article specifically criticises Smilansky, the editor of Bustenaj, the
farmers’ association’s journal.
36. Joshua Yevin, “Be Awake!”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 23.2.1932. Yevin used the
German word Stab in his original Hebrew article.
37. Ibid.
38. Ibid. Yevin paraphrases on Deuteronomy 23.9–14.
39. “How Did They once Fight against the Sanbalats of Culture?” (signed by
the “Editorial Board”), Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 15.3.1932.
40. The article brought quotes from the socialist press of 1913–1914 which
demonstrated how the socialist parties had vehemently opposed then the
initiative to institute German as the official teaching language at the
Polytechnic School in Haifa, showing that the same can be said in 1932
against Magnes and Bentwich in Jerusalem. About the “Language War” of
1913–1914 see Arieh Bruce Saposnik, Becoming Hebrew: The Creation of a
Jewish National Culture in Ottoman Palestine (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2008), Chap. 10: “Language Wars and Other Wars” (esp. pp. 223–
232). For the longer context within Hebrew education, see Bernard
Spolsky and Elana Shohamy, “Language in Israeli Society and Education”,
International Journal of the Sociology of Language 137 (1999), pp. 93–114.
41. Ibid.
42. Yevin, “We Fight the People’s War”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 29.7.1932. The arti-
cle was aimed against liberal and socialist Zionist leaders. Specifically, Yevin
mentions Robert Weltsch and Kurt Blumenfeld. Weltsch (1891–1982) was
chief editor of the Jüdische Rundschau in Berlin. Blumenfeld (1884–1963)
was at the time head of the “Zionistischen Vereinigung für Deutschland”.
43. Aḥime’ir, “The Speech of Aḥime’ir”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 13.9.1932.
1936), p. 6.
45. Ibid.
46. During the division of the NMO Kolitz did not follow Abraham Stern, but
rather went with David Razi’el and served in the British Army during the
Second World War. After the war Kolitz migrated to North America and
turned to a career as a film and theatre producer. He died in America in
2002.
47. Kolitz, op. cit., p. 19.
48. Ibid., p. 65; all emphases are in the original.
49. Ibid., p. 67.
50. Abraham Stern, draft in his notebook, probably written during 1940 or
1941. CZA A 549\65–44.
51. Grundlage des Vorschlages der Nationalen Militärischen Organisation in
Palästina (Irgun Zewai Leumi) betreffend der Lösung der jüdischen Frage
118 D. TAMIR
Europas und der aktiven Teilnahme der N.M.O. Am Kriege an der Seite
Deutschlands, JA K-5/4/1.
52. In this issue, Stern was a disciple of Adolf Gurevicz. See the concluding
chapter of this work.
53. Stern, draft in his notebook, probably written during 1940 or 1941. CZA
A 549\65–44.
A 549\65–75.
A 549\65–44.
56. Ibid., CZA A 549\65–83. Next to this sentence, however, he writes that
“full unity will not be” due to “polarity of the people”, mentioning Parussis
and Cadoqians, the 12 spies in the times of Joshua, Hassidics and Litvaks
and Zionists versus assimilationists.
57. Stern, draft in his notebook, probably written during 1941. CZA A
549\65–55. The emphasis is mine.
59. These two aspects cohabited later in “Israel’s Liberty’s Fighters”, under
Nathan Yellin-Mor and Israel Eldad. See Joseph Heller, The Stern Gang:
Ideology, Politics and Terror, 1940–1949 (London: Frank Cass, 1995),
pp. 111–122.
CHAPTER 8
Leaders and Self-Sacrificing Prophets
In Autumn 1922, the telegraph lines between Europe and Palestine

already worked well. Less than four days after Benito Mussolini was
charged by Italy’s king with the task of forming a cabinet, Do’ar ha-Yom
already gave its readers a detailed portrait of the new prime minister. “Such
a musical name, so Italian in its syllables, a name which has a magical influ-
ence on those who pronounce it in Italy—and today he is the Prime
Minister”, Itamar Ben Avi, the newspaper’s editor, wrote in his descrip-
tion of the young Italian politician. With a pinch of professional collegial-
ity he noted that just a few days earlier Mussolini was only “the editor of a
semi-communist newspaper”, although he had been a wonderful orator
for a long time before, as
thousands were thronging to listen to his speeches, which were dismantling

mountains. But if anybody would have presaged that this fiery speaker could
soon become head of the Italian government, all hearers would have
laughed…”.1
Ben Avi then described his first personal encounter with Mussolini, in
1919, on a visit to Rome. He recalled that
a large crowd had gathered next to the monument of Vittorio Emanuele II

to watch an exceptional vision, unseen in Italy before: about 400 young-
sters, dressed in black, stood at that piazza, bearing Italian flags in their
hands. They were singing national anthems and war songs, and every now

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-73679-2_8
120 D. TAMIR
and then were shouting loud: “Mus-so-li-ni!”… Then, out of a nearby Café,
came a hairy man, not very tall, with olive-like complexion. His two eyes
were large, round and glowing in their Italian darkness. A smile of happiness
could be seen on his thin lips, for finally his great dream had come true:
being the leader of his own independent faction. The speech he delivered
was short, but roiling like a mountain brook. He spoke about everything,
but in my ears, those of the foreign Hebrew, its last words resonated: ‘Italy
should either be Rome once again, or not be at all!’2
A few days later, the newspaper’s correspondent in Rome described Italy’s

new prime minister as “a volcanic orator, a strong and uncompromising
character, who knows how to enrapture the masses in the flow of his
speech and revive dry bones”.3
With his sharp journalistic senses, Ben Avi took notice of some tenden-
cies that would later be considered as the basis of Italian Fascism’s elector-
ate. He noted that the “weird movement which Mussolini named ‘fascio’…
was first joined by bourgeois youngsters and national workers, those
enthusiastic literati and artists, who were disappointed by extreme com-
munism and Italian Bolshevism …”. Aware of his readership’s need for
good stories, Ben Avi clearly described Mussolini as an underdog who
won against all odds, after communist circles “denounced him as a ‘traitor’
and ‘hooligan’… and even the calm bourgeoisie was convinced that his
only aim is to reach greatness, authority and power”. But Mussolini pre-
vailed, because his aim was “rescuing young Italy”.
Ben Avi’s sympathy towards Mussolini was obvious. “Neither laughter
nor scorn are heard in Italy referring to Mussolini and his national army,
but hatred on the one hand, from the side of the extreme socialists, and
admiration and even enthusiasm from the ranks of young, invigorated
Italy.” Ben Avi encouraged his readers to get used to Mussolini’s name,
to the four syllables of Italy’s hero of the day, that young Garibaldi—as he’s
called by the admirers of late Garibaldi… because this Italian will keep us
busy with many more of his great surprises and actions.4
This admiration of the Italian leader did not pass unnoticed: not necessar-
ily because of Mussolini’s dictatorial tendencies, but rather due to some
“Jewish Zionist” apprehensions. Two months later, in an article titled
“Fascism’s Attitude towards Zionism”, Ḥ ayim Vardi (here a “special cor-
respondent” for Do’ar ha-Yom) replied to critics by stating that in his
LEADERS AND SELF-SACRIFICING PROPHETS 121
former article he was trying to be “free of any prejudice, beholding the

issue from the viewpoint of Italy’s interests, for this is the only way to
analyse and assess any political phenomenon, wherever it takes place”.5
Referring to the Jewish-Zionist perspective, Vardi added that
most of the Jewish newspapers see Mussolini as a Jew-hater, a clerical fanatic

and so on. This is wrong. Mussolini is nothing but a statesman who mea-
sures everything according to his Italian criteria, neither opposing nor sup-
porting us due to any personal fondness or hatred.6
However, Mussolini and Italian Fascism did not enchant all their future
admirers immediately, as sober assessments of the leader and his move-
ment continued to appear on a regular basis. In 1926, in a review of a
book by Robert Michels which was published a year earlier,7 the young
journalist Abba Aḥime’ir—at that time still a member of Ha-Poèl ha-
Tzaìr—saw it favourably as an interesting phenomenon, yet not without
precedents. In his opinion, the fascist world view
is a Carlyle-like world view: an extreme belief in the value of the hero.

Michels indicates Mussolini’s positive characteristics: an intuition, telling
what is possible and achievable; a recognition of one’s own value; an extraor-
dinary ability to influence the masses, brave yet not hasty politics… Michels
does not want to judge Fascism. The verdict should be left to history alone…
on a public movement which is hard to be referred to objectively.8
Aḥime’ir’s fascination with Mussolini would soon develop; he was not the
only one who saw the Duce as a political model. And so, when Ze’ev
Jabotinsky arrived at the port of Jaffa in October 1928, next to a report
about his arrival at the port (“Jabotinsky in our Land” was the title of a
quarter-page box which appeared in Do’ar ha-Yom) Itamar Ben Avi wrote
a short editorial titled “Welcome, Brave Soldier!” This greeting was not
the newspaper’s alone, but an “echo to the voice of invigorated, living,
dreaming, courageous Palestine as a whole”, he argued.9 Precisely because
obstacles were put in the leader’s way, he wrote,
we were longing for you… precisely because we felt we lack a leader—we

called you…. we prayed for your return, oh Man of Acre! And now you are
with us again… for many days, years—maybe forever! Civilian and military
leader, a politician and a hero, upon whose speech the exile shall obey and
upon whose roar foreign lands will fear, despite the anger and the fury of his
122 D. TAMIR
enemies… for the happiness and the pride of your lovers, in their thousands.
And for the joy of the entire country—which admires you endlessly—for
your honesty, pride, action and consequence. Indeed, this is a great day for
Palestine, our dear brother.10
The drawing accompanying the article, titled “Garibaldi is Back in our

Land”, depicted Jabotinsky riding a horse, like a General commanding a
march.11
But the moment of euphoria was short. The next day, in an article titled
“The War Among Brothers in Tel Aviv”, Ben Avi referred to “a marginal
and sudden event, blurring the glare” of the Hebrew revival: a fist fight
between Beytar activists and members of the socialist party “Po’aley
Tziyon”.12 Oddly, the brave declaration of the previous day turned into a
sentimental request:
Would a leader arise? Would a Hebrew Garibaldi or Mussolini stand up and

call “stop!” to all this internal madness, considering the external danger sur-
rounding us?13
Abba Aḥime’ir was decisive in this issue. In his column Current Issues
(From the Notebook of a Fascist) which was subtitled “Regarding the Arrival
of our Duce”, he stated that it is a necessity
to admire not only a prophet who lived and died ages ago, but also to
admire fully and totally the living hero who walks among us, that hero
whose body might get cold and “catch the flu”. Because the greatness of a
leader is not an “objective” measure, an outcome of God’s gift. Next to this
“objective” measure there is also the “subjective” measure: the outcome of
recognition and admiration.14
Aḥime’ir then brought Mustafa Kemal as an example of a hero without

whom his people could never have risen from decades of desolation. “The
gospel tells us that Jesus is able to perform miracles only if one believes in
him, while in our case, the wonder of statehood will come true only thanks
to the faith we have in the bearer of that wonder”, he wrote, adding that
“we, who are already at his command, should say to him: ‘we shall do and
be obedient!’”.15 Aḥime’ir concluded his article by addressing the mem-
bers of Beytar:
Trumpeldors, take very good care of your “Duce” [sic]! Safeguard him as
the apple of your eye! Because numerous and powerful are the adversaries of
the idea of statehood among us, and the enemies of that great man who
aims at realising it in your lifetime”.16
In a footnote, Aḥime’ir added that “Duce” means “a leader” in Italian,

and that the Italians “like to call Mussolini by that name”.17
About four years later, Aḥime’ir named some leaders who became sym-
bols at the time, foremost Gandhi and De Valera. One should learn from
them, he suggested, embrace and adopt such national leaders. Interestingly,
Aḥime’ir saw Gandhi as the most special one, because he was “not a
politician—he is what I called (rightly or wrongly) ‘a prophet’”.18
The way Aḥime’ir admired Jabotinsky and Mussolini is revealed in his
personal correspondence as well. “When I addressed him in my first letter
by the title ‘Leader’”, Aḥime’ir opened his letter to Jabotinsky that month,
“it was not an attempt to please him, but simply an expression of my feel-
ing. I want some high ranking person to stand on my back and show me
the way”.19 Aḥime’ir’s appreciation of autocratic rulers was not personal,
restricted to Jabotinsky alone; the Revisionists, he argued, should take a
lesson from Mussolini, Kemal, Pilsudski and Voldemaras, “abandon the
high politics” and concentrate on educating the public. “Why does he
[Jabotinsky] consult us so much?” Aḥime’ir asked rhetorically. While Ben
Avi greeted Jabotinsky as a brother, Aḥime’ir argued that Jabotinsky
should
dictate more, for we should obey His orders! He should contact us for infor-
mation, but never let anyone else make the final decision in any issue. My
Lord should distinguish between his personal inclinations and his [political]
stance. It might well be that privately He wishes to be a member among
other members; but destiny has chosen him to lead—and He should not
evade this duty.20
The fondness for strong leaders among the Maximalists was not limited to
Aḥime’ir alone. In April 1931, in an article about Egyptian politics,
Wolfgang Von Weisl found that although the Egyptians were about to
elect representatives for parliament, Cidqi Pasha ruled as a dictator. Von
Weisl was fine with elections, since “some democracy cannot harm, and
even Mussolini does not oppose having a Parliament, as long as it does not
disturb him”.21
124 D. TAMIR
As the elections for the Zionist Congress approached, Von Weisl argued
a month later that “already at the Zionist Congress in Basel in 1927,
Jabotinsky was the only person who was still speaking about Zionism’s
final victory”.22 Political achievements, Von Weisl argued, could be reached
only by a person
who knows what he wants and has firmly decided to do it. In other words:
someone who has a clear political plan and who works diligently towards its
realization.
By this, Von Weisl most probably thought of Jabotinsky. For Von Weisl,
the ideological disputes between Revisionists and Liberal Zionists were
also incarnate in the leaders of the two rival parties. Re-electing Weizmann
to be the head of the Zionist executive, Von Weisl opined, would harm the
Zionist Organisation both financially and politically. The election of
Jabotinsky, on the other hand, could mark the “revival of the Zionist
Organisation”, because young people “will run to join the organisation
under the blue-white flag” and Palestine “shall attract the best and most
active parts of the youth”, because “only Jabotinsky is capable of saving
the youngsters from the Communist danger threatening it”.23
Naturally, the Maximalists did not see every leader as a good one, since
leadership should be examined not only by its achievements, but by its
style and ideology as well. Stalin and Mussolini reigned by the crude force
of their men, “be they Black or Red”, whereas J.L. Magnes was perceived
as controlling the Hebrew University in 1931 by the grace of his rich sup-
porters.24 Magnes “was not the leader of the Hebrew University, but its
‘Proprietor’: the one who has the money”, because he had “the luck to be
in close contact with the Jewish millionaires and receive from them money
for the University”.25
Marking the Revisionist movement as a clear opposition to Magnes and
his circles (in an article meant to “encourage the inner part” of the move-
ment) Yevin assured his readers that, after five years of political activity, the
Revisionist movement had actually saved Zionism from extinction. The
head of the movement, Jabotinsky, is “a great leader, gifted with a talent
of prophecy, who established the movement amidst a bitter war with
gigantic enemies”. Thanks to him, “a new fire was ignited in the Spirit of
Israel”.26 Members of the movement, hated and despised by their breth-
ren, are considered as the Guardians of the Fire of Revival. And “on their
Shrine, amidst the poverty and disaster of our life, dwells the Lion of Fire,
the Lion of Israel’s rebirth”.27 The singularity of this mention of the word
“prophecy”, however, may lead us to assume that it was used as a meta-
phor for Jabotinsky’s political wit and should not be taken literally.
About a year later, Yevin referred again to instincts and their supremacy
over rationality, though not the instincts of the leader personally. “Jews”,
he wrote after a Zionist sport festival,
believe in the voice of your blood, which spoke inside you in these days of
March 1932; for the voice of your blood is very true… You should know
that this voice of your blood, demanding the complete redemption—is the
one originating from all the persecutions, pyres and tribulations you and
your ancestors have suffered. Therefore this is the true voice and you should
listen to it only.28
To be sure, mystical appearances of blood and fire appeared already in

U.Z. Grünberg’s poetry during the late 1920s: “The blood of the Siqarians
woke up in our sheep-like flesh / and the prophets’ Pillar of Fire stands on
our doorstep”.29 His mysticism then, though, was not focused on a spe-
cific person, but on the nation as a whole.
However, Von Weisl, Yevin, Aḥime’ir and their associates were much
more enthusiastic in their leader cult than their prospective leader himself.
Referring to the question of the presidency of the Zionist Organisation,
Jabotinsky reminded his adherents
that the custom among the enlightened nations of our world is to look at
the programme rather than at the personality, and this is a good and healthy
habit. And on the contrary: the habit of preferring personality over pro-
gramme is a sign for a lack of political culture.30
The Maximalists, on their part, were not impressed by their leader’s hum-
ble comment. Following the relative success of the Revisionists in the elec-
tions for the Zionist institutions that year, Von Weisl declared that
Jabotinsky “took the role of Hercules”: he didn’t only give his private
property to the party, but also worked relentlessly on turning the Zionist
Organisation into a Revisionist one, putting aside both his professional or
his family life.31 Therefore, in a historical account of political Zionism he
published the following month, Aḥime’ir argued in favour of establishing
a new organisation with new principles, “which fit the new spirit” of
Revisionist Zionism. “In such a movement”, Aḥime’ir suggested,
126 D. TAMIR
the leader’s authority is supreme. The cult of the leader is not written on
paper, but engraved in the mind and spirit of every soldier within the move-
ment. A spirit of “we shall do and hear” prevails.32
Little should one wonder, therefore, that before leaving to Vienna in order
to lay the foundations for the New Zionist Organisation, Von Weisl chose
to conclude his farewell article by asserting that Revisionist Zionism “will
have to complete many tasks levied upon it by Jabotinsky”.33
The fifth world conference of the Revisionist Movement was about to
convene in Vienna during the last week of August 1932. The secession
from the Zionist organisation in June 1931 did not end the firm debate
within the movement, between moderates and Maximalists. “What are the
practical demands with which we go to the world conference?”, asked the
“proclamation of Maximalist Zionism” at the beginning of that month.
The first demand was clear: “exalting the prestige of the leader to the level
of dictator”.34 The third demand was “relocating the political department
to the leader’s place of residence”.35
Aḥime’ir made his way from Jaffa to the Revisionist conference in
Vienna by ship and train, via Cyprus and Trieste, where “the weather is as
hot as in our country”. Mussolini’s portrait, he noticed, was presented “in
every public institution, beginning at the customs office. In every public
place there are two portraits: ‘il Rei’ and the ‘Duce’. The king makes a
miserable impression; the main figure is the rural blacksmith’s son.”36
As expected, the August 1932 Vienna Conference became a stage for
the conflict between the Maximalist faction and the moderate faction. The
question of leadership was one of the main bones of contention. “We have
among us a leader who is loyal to the decisions made here”, said Meïr
Grossmann, one of the key figures of the moderate group. “He might
have the privilege to do as he pleases, but he is a responsible man… you
may choose new people; there are no people without substitute—”.
At that moment, according to the protocol published in Ḥ azit ha-‘Am,
Von Weisl burst into the speech. “Mr. Jabotinsky!” he shouted. Jabotinsky,
on his part, tried to calm both of them down. “Neither am I [without
substitute]”, he said.37
Von Weisl wasn’t convinced. “The magnetic force of Jabotinsky, this
miraculous man, shall have great influence”, he said when it was his turn
to speak. “We need strict uniformity within the leadership”, he said, main-
taining that
the leadership should be solely in the hands of Jabotinsky. One should

cancel—for two years at least—the title of “vice president”; secretaries will
do the job. The path will be marked by Jabotinsky alone.38
Von Weisl had a detailed administrative plan for the movement, which
granted its president total authority. But the cult of heroes and the aspira-
tion to have a strong leader among the maximalists were wider and deeper
than a mere technical amendment. “Who is the creator of history?”
Aḥime’ir discussed this question a few weeks after the Conference in
Vienna, providing a detailed answer, connecting Jewish tradition with
contemporary politics:
This question was answered at the time by the French and Russian intelli-
gentsia as follows: history is created by the circumstances, by the abstract
external conditions, by humanity, the people, the masses—but not the per-
son. German and Italian intelligentsia, by contrast, reply: heroes create his-
tory—not the opposite. And this is the reply of Judaism [as well], which
cannot even be imagined without the term “Redeemer”. Western and east-
ern Europe are saturated with hatred towards heroes; the central European
world view is saturated by a cult of heroes.39
Back then in 1932, Aḥime’ir saw a clear connection and a similarity

between Italian Fascists and German National Socialists, and between
their longing for strong, efficient leaders and the same longing among
another people:
Fascism took upon itself the task of restoring Rome’s ancient status; Nazism
took upon itself the fulfillment of racial theory. But these doctrines were
there before Mussolini and Hitler. Rome was the dream of Rienzi and
Petrarch in the 14th century; Rome is for Italy what Jerusalem is for Israel…
Mussolini sees in his eyes the image of Julius Caesar; and in Israel the same
thing: there is an organic linkage between the Redeemer and King David.
Modern Israel considers the brave Judges, the Maccabeans and the zealots
as the most important thing.40
The leader’s cult was far from its end; Jabotinsky, however, remained
reluctant. “I would not have even referred to this ‘Leader’ issue”, he said
in his speech at the Revisionist Movement’s Fifth World Conference,
128 D. TAMIR
but you, my friends… are using a miserable term, which has already caused
lots of troubles… Today, this word is a synonym for something you do not
want. I do not want to believe that humanity has hierarchy. I shall never
work together with people who are willing to subjugate their opinion to
mine. I created for myself the illusion that the world is made of princes, and
I do not want to ruin my belief in this idea. I’m afraid that the matter of
dictatorship is not even bound with a certain personality, but is a part of a
stream, spreading around the world. I am sorry to observe that this thing
became a political doctrine worldwide. I come from the 19th century, when
the prevailing view in the world was that every human being, even if he is
bad and filthy, would be good and wise—given the proper education. This
is my view… I would rather disappear and pass away from this world, than
agree with the view asserting that my son and the son of my fellow are not
equal human beings, that my son and the shoemaker are not equal…”.41
Jabotinsky’s rejection of dictatorship, not only the one offered to him, but
the idea in general, was crystal clear then. But the fact that he had to say it
and repeat it in order to convince his followers may show us how deep the
cult of the leader was rooted among members of his movement.
Still, the longing for a strong leader did not vanish even after this
speech. In March 1934, at the peak of the Arlosoroff affair and the trial of
Brit ha-Biryonim, Yevin published a poem in Ḥ azit ha-Àm:
I saw you, the Leader, under your heavy destiny’s yoke;

Always moving from ship to ship, wagon to wagon,
Beating on Jews’ hearts, as a blacksmith on his anvil,
Poor and homeless, except the home of Israel,
To which—four decades already—you say: “redeem yourself!”42
And so the poem continued:
I saw you gathering your soldiers, sons of Israel, in days of war,

In inhuman labour, like collecting stalks of grain from land of waste…
and so on and so forth. This extremely unconventional line of the newspa-

per did not always find favour with Jabotinsky. The clearest case of such
deep disagreement between him and the editors was probably in May
1933, when Ḥ azit ha-Àm published a series of articles supporting Hitler’s
militancy and anti-socialist measures, to the extent of praising parts of
national-socialist politics. While the Maximalists were enchanted by
Nazism’s anti-socialism and national vigour, Jabotinsky was deeply
concerned by Nazis’ extreme anti-Jewish line.
This was not a mere difference in accentuation or theoretical interpreta-

tion: practically, Ḥ azit ha-Àm’s fondness of Nazism stood in clear contrast
to Jabotinsky’s attempts to organise a trade boycott on Germany. “Very
honoured colleagues”, Jabotinsky wrote in an official letter to the editorial
board, “the articles and reports about Hitler and Hitlerism in Ḥ azit
ha-Àm are like a dagger stabbed in my own back and in our common
back.”43 In an unequivocal tone, he ordered the editorial board
to cease this abomination totally. This point of view, finding signs of a “national
liberation” movement in Hitlerism, is ignorance—which suits the young stu-
dents of 1903. In our current situation, this babbling is a disgrace to my work,
to the degree of paralyzing it. I demand that this filthy hysteria disappear from
the pages of Ḥazit ha-Àm, leaving no trace. I demand that the newspaper,
fully and unconditionally, will join our campaign against Hitler’s Germany
and for the eradication of Hitlerism, in the fullest sense of this word. If Ḥazit
ha-Àm publishes even one more sentence which may be interpreted as a new
attempt of Jew-boys to please a boastful gentile who accidentally managed to
get into power, I shall demand that all members of the editorial board be
expelled from the ranks of the party, and shall sever my personal contacts with
the people who could make me fail, by such a cheap and rude arrogance.44
Fig. 8.1 Vladimir Ze’ev

Jabotinsky, 1936. Courtesy
of the Jabotinsky Institute
in Israel
130 D. TAMIR
In another, personal letter sent the same day to a colleague in Tel Aviv,
Jabotinsky used even harsher language when referring to his recalcitrant
disciples. The editorial board of Ḥ azit ha-Àm, he complained,
write nonsense, almost praising Hitler. They see this rough and cheap imita-
tion called “Hitlerism” as a national liberation movement; they thus hamper
and injure me in my tough war… I did not rebel against people who have
been together with me since 1915 in order to be publicly disgraced by
youngsters who natter and chatter about a phenomenon they don’t
understand.45
This time, the message was well understood. A few days later, a group of
young members of Brit ha-Biryonim, organised and led by Aḥime’ir,
removed the swastika-flag from the German consulate in Jerusalem, in an
act of protest against Nazi policy.46
However, while the sympathy towards Hitlerism was cut short already
in 1933, Mussolini continued to attract very positive attention among the
Revisionists throughout the 1930s. “The Hebrew reader is hardly
acquainted with Italian Fascism, and its creator and initiator”, assumed the
publisher’s preface to Mussolini’s first Hebrew biography, titled Mussolini:
His Personality and Doctrine. “Short-sighted newspapers and journalists”,
the editor added, have put the Fascist movement
under a very weird light, distorting its essence. Despite the sympathy many
Jews have towards allegedly liberal and democratic states, one cannot deny
the fact that modern Italy is the only state where Jews enjoy complete equal-
ity, without being persecuted because of their origin. We know that this
book could raise resentment among certain circles, which are used to see no
difference between the fascist movement in Italy and antisemitic movements
in Europe, which claim to be fascist—although their “fascisms” are false
pretenses, just as naming the Nazis “socialist” is a false pretence.47
The biography’s author, Zwi Kolitz,48 described the leader of Italian

Fascism as a strong personality “with total consistency and an exceptional
willpower”, a man
who knows what he wants, and wants the favour and the future of Italy to
the best of his belief. He placed himself to preside over his people. Since the
day he came to power until this very day, he shows himself to his people as
the complete personality, the stable man, who makes an example of devotion
and self sacrifice before calling others to do the same.49
Remarkably, the only other example Kolitz brought for a national leader
gifted with such complete devotion and accountability was Gandhi.50
Convinced that “an idea without a leader—is like a corpse without a soul”,
Kolitz came to the conclusion that
strong ideas are dependent on strong personalities. Italian Fascism is today

the most significant idea in Europe, since the personality representing it is
mighty and complete.51
Throughout the book, the admiration of Mussolini expressed by Kolitz

usually remained reasonable—or earthly, at least. Now and then, however,
the author “slipped” towards a transcendental evaluation of the leader.
“No force in this world”, Kolitz declares,
will influence him and make him believe that not he, but other factors—
human or superhuman—may determine his fate. Mussolini is the only leader
who fully stands for himself… he does not see himself dependent on any
superhuman fate, and even less the fate of the people around him… he is the
only leader who’s not led, whose personality is whole and strong, inspiring
by its might and splendor on all [people], near and far.52
Further on, Kolitz states that “Mussolini is a power of nature, with a huge
will for creation, gifted with a unique constructive imagination, which
knows no twists or faults and is not dependent upon moods”.53
The deification of Mussolini gradually becomes explicit in Kolitz’s writ-
ing, when he refers to Mussolini’s past. As a journalist, he adheres
to the rule of “vox populi vox dei” and—by way of wonder!—can himself
believe that the voice of the people, which is equivalent to the voice of God,
does not want to follow this “voce dei”, but to call unto the people with the
voice of a single person, to follow and to obey.54
Hence the deification is comprehensive: the fascist leader is both the

bearer of a divine message and its initiator—and the founder of a new
religion. Kolitz does not try to conceal this mystification, but rather make
it blatant, claiming that “Mussolini not only changed the set of mind and
thought in Italy, but also created around him a certain frame of National
Mysticism”.55
Kolitz’s description of Mussolini impressed at least some of his readers.
“A man of iron who knew how to overcome the difficulties of life; a man
132 D. TAMIR
who knows only one thing: forward!”, Šalom Rosenfeld described the
Italian dictator in his review of the book.56 Rosenfeld argued that the nine-
teenth century was one of liberalism, individualism and fraternity, whereas
the twentieth century was one of nationalism, authority and—last but not
least—great personalities. “Difficulties, objective conditions, circum-
stances—all these are nonexistent for him. He knows only one thing: the
power of the will.”57
It is not surprising that a combination of the power of the will of the
people with the personality of the leader as its personification was evident
in the political philosophy of one of Kolitz’s fellow Hebrew students in
Firenze of the 1930s. In a paragraph from the early 1940s titled “Leader—a
kind of a preface”, Abraham Stern wrote that “the people”—without
explaining whether it is the people of Palestine or a generic one—are
expecting
a redeemer who will embody the people’s wish to be redeemed, who will
guide it with a strong hand, who will command… who will be great in his
willingness to sacrifice, in his victories as well as in his defeats… who will
guide it towards combats, conquest, life; who will provide bread and liberty,
who will illuminate the darkness of the present and the abyss of the future.
But first—the idea. At the beginning was the idea…58
Stern then evoked a biblical scene:
Rejoice greatly, Daughter of Zion! Shout, Daughter of Jerusalem! See, your

king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey,
on a colt, the foal of a donkey.59
The messianic idea in Judaic thought, Stern asserted, “was not born in the
diaspora”. The same way that Britain ruled the country not de jure but de
facto, Stern suggested that the idea of a redeemer was present “in the
people’s brain” in the time of the Roman empire; it began with “the brutal
interference of the Romans in the internal political life of Palestine”. By
this comparison, Stern argued that “the coming of Jesus was a living pro-
test against the people’s leaders, who discarded the people’s will”.60
Naming several Jewish Messiahs—Bar-Kokba, Issac Obadaia, Menaḥem
Elro’i, Abraham Abulafia, David ha-Re’ubeni and Šabtai Zwi—Stern
opined that the failure of Šabtaism was not the fault of the people, but of
the leader, for the people were
ready to sacrifice, like today. One only needs a leader who knows how to
excite and show the way.61
Considering the context of his sayings and writings and the position he
held in the NMO (both before and after the secession), one may reasonably
assume that Stern saw himself as a personification of the anticipated leader.
That way or another, Stern’s deification clearly came into force after his
death. “For us, his soldiers and disciples”, wrote the leading committee of
his organisation after he was murdered, “his life did not cease”. Although
on 10 February 1942,
his body had been taken from us, it was not the end of his earthly existence.
His personality crystallized within us: it has been accompanying us since
then, guiding and demanding. He appeared before our eyes every day, not
as a spirit alone but as a living reality… his voice reaches us loud and clear.
He lives and acts among us as one great person…62
Both the Hebrew press “and his murderers” (i.e. the British authorities)
thought that it was Stern’s ambition to become a leader. But both were
wrong, since they
judged Ya’ir as one judges mortals, while he was unique. He was not one of
those who live and die, like other human beings. He was Prometheus, who
appears once in many generations, bringing fire to humans … he ignites a
flame in the hearts… Those who support darkness may murder him, but the
fire shall never be extinguished again.63
Stern, his disciples argued, “had sacrificed everything”, and this is why
“his soldiers admired him” and were willing to follow him “in fire and
water, where ever he sent them”. They drew their force and inspiration
from him, in order to resist the waves of hatred. He revived their spirits. He
ruled us because we wanted his rule.64
Indeed, “your word revives us and by your word we are ready to die!”, his
followers recalled telling him before he was murdered. But Stern knew he
was not going to stay forever in this world, and prepared his soldiers for
the occasion of his death. “He spoke about this possibility quietly”, they
wrote after his death, for
134 D. TAMIR
it seemed as if he clearly knew when it would happen. He foresaw the cir-

cumstances. Months before that day he said, by the way: how will they treat
me if they catch me? Oh, simply: they will shoot me and announce that I was
shot while attempting to escape.
This was, apparently, a clear and precise prophecy. But Stern’s glorification
took its form not only within a Christian tradition, being the Agnus Dei of
his time, totally aware of the fact he was about to be sacrificed. His deifica-
tion also fitted a much earlier Egyptian cult, of Amun. The police bullets
could not harm his idea. It shines like the sun ascending above the hills of
Judea: red, sanguine. Is there any force in the world which can prevent the
sun from ascending high, in its orbit?65
The new leaders of the NMO in Israel were aware of the importance of
presenting a rational political image. “Politicians understood Ya’ir and
believed him. Initially, he approached them in the name of reason alone”,
they wrote. But even this reason
had the wings of vision and was paved by faith. The force he talked about
and the program he suggested were “music of the future”, because they did
not see the force and he—did not demonstrate its existence.66
Some reference to supernatural authority was evident in the writings of

Stern himself. “At times when peoples confront each other and collapse,
at times of wars and the eve of revolutions—the collectives seek after the
individual and the masses—after the leader”, he contemplated before his
death, adding that
the longing hearts, the hoping eyes, all lean towards the great unknown
person, bearer of the idea of liberty. With the loss of hope for collective rule,
as the trust in the people’s might collapses—then the ancient instinct, bur-
ied deep in man’s heart, is reborn: full surrender to the law, blindly follow-
ing the first person.67
It is also worth mentioning that the admiration of Stern as a very special

person, to say the least, was not a short, unique event in the stormy social
and geopolitical weather of the Second World War. This admiration did
not cease neither at the end of the war nor after the establishment of the
state of Israel. According to one of his junior followers, Stern
did not dedicate his best years and his whole life to the underground due to
cold political calculations alone. He had, it seems, what men of mystery call
revelation.68
These sentences were written as a memoir, during the 1960s.
Conclusion
The need for authority of natural chiefs was expressed in two main ways in
the political agenda of the Maximalists. The first was general, by depicting
firm personal leadership as a desired political regime and praising strong
leaders and rulers around the world, mainly—but not only—Mussolini.
The second was particular, crowning a specific person—explicitly
Jabotinsky, and later also implicitly Stern—as the designated leader—and
sometimes even divine redeemer—of the Hebrew nation.
From an early stage during the 1920s, Itamar Ben Avi clearly expressed
his admiration towards Mussolini and later Jabotinsky. The fact that this
admiration was criticised by his political and journalistic adversaries from
other parts of Hebrew society, liberals and socialists alike, did not change
much; on the contrary: it probably contributed to his image as a flamboy-
ant, non-conformist public figure. Ben Avi regarded Mussolini and
Jabotinsky not only as bulwarks against communist trends, but as drivers
of national resurrection (a context in which he compared Jabotinsky to
Garibaldi, too).
Abba Aḥime’ir’s admiration of Jabotinsky also developed gradually: in
1926 he still showed apprehension towards strong leadership; his increas-
ing admiration towards strong leaders seems to be a part of his alienation
process towards the socialist circles of which he was a member and the
socialist and liberal newspapers in which he used to write. By October
1928, as Jabotinsky arrived in Palestine, the change in his stance was com-
plete. Aḥime’ir’s admiration towards leadership was not restricted to
Mussolini and Jabotinsky: he also viewed Jesus, Mustafa Kemal, Pilsudski—
and even political enemies like Stalin—as appropriate role models for a
strong leadership.
136 D. TAMIR
While the Maximalists’ fascination of the political possibilities presented

by Hitler’s seizure of power was short and ended already in 1933,
Mussolini continued to attract favourable attention throughout the 1930s.
The biography by Kolitz and the positive critique it received in Ha-Mašqif
are only two examples of that positive attention.
Altogether, the actual cult of the leader among the Revisionists was
undoubtedly focused on the personality of Jabotinsky. Aḥime’ir asked him
to order more and consult less; Von Weisl compared him with Hercules;
Yevin claimed that his task was a part of a comprehensive redemption pro-
cess. Jabotinsky, on his part, seemed reluctant towards such a personal
leader cult.
Stern, in turn, demonstrated a somewhat different combination of the
people’s general will and the leader as its personification. Like Aḥime’ir, he
also thought that the messianic idea is a part of Judaic thought; like Yevin,
he also looked for a leader who would command and guide the masses as
a mystical redeemer.
Mysticism was manifest in U.Z. Grünberg’s poems and Joshua Yevin’s
articles from the late 1920s. At that time, however, these instincts were
perceived as a collective national attribute, and were not yet embodied in
a specific person.
A belief in the superiority of a specific leader’s instincts over abstract
and universal reason could first be traced to some of the writings of Abba
Aḥime’ir. Choosing Gandhi and De Valera as symbols of particular national
leaders (in contrast to universal ideological ones) may seem weird, unless
we remember that both were politically active against British colonial rule.
The absence of expressions of admiration for the Jabotinsky’s instincts
was probably not due to lack of willingness among his adherers to do so,
but due to his refusal to cooperate with their cult. Jabotinsky’s rejection of
dictatorship and his refusal to take upon himself the role designated for
him by his supporters gradually led them to stop crowning him as a
redeemer, and to concentrate on supporting him as a beloved yet “nor-
mal” political leader instead. Still, a belief in a leader’s instincts could be
traced in the admiration of Mussolini (as late as 1936) and in the writings
of Abraham Stern (Fig. 8.1).
Stern’s disciples and followers demonstrated complete admiration
towards him personally. Posthumously, this admiration took the form of
worship, raising the murdered leader to the degree of a prophet and—in
some cases—almost to deity. This adoration and worship became possible
only after the NMO in Israel broke away from the central core of the
Revisionist movement. Once separated from the Revisionist movement,

Stern’s followers could crown him as their only leader. The reason for this
secession was Stern’s rejection of any compromise with the British govern-
ment after the break of the Second World War, and his refusal to suspend
the NMO’s violent actions—even for the sake of fighting against the Axis.
The history of violence and its perception among Hebrew fascists are the
subject of the next chapter.
* * *
Notes
1. Itamar Ben Avi, “Mussolini”, Do’ar Ha-Yom, 2.11.1922.
2. Ibid.
3. Ḥ ayim Vardi, “The Victory of the Fascists” [Nicḥon ha-Fašisŧim], Do’ar
ha-Yom, 12.11.1922.
4. Ben Avi, op. cit.
5. Ḥ ayim Vardi, “Fascism’s Attitude towards Zionism” [Jaḥas ha-Fašisŧijut
la-Cijonijut], Do’ar ha-Yom, 11.1.1922.
6. Ibid.
7. Robert Michels, Sozialismus und Fascismus als politische Strömungen in
Italien: historische Studien (München: Meyer & Jessen, 1925).
8. Abba Aḥime’ir, “Socialism and Fascism”, Ha-Poèl ha-Tzaìr 20 (1926),
issue 9.
9. Ben Avi, “Jabotinsky in our Land” [Jabotinsky b-‘Arcenu], Do’ar ha-Yom,
7.10.1928.
10. Ibid. In “Man of Acre” Ben Avi hints to the time Jabotinsky was doing in
the prison in Acre in 1920–1921, after being accused and convicted in the
organisation of local self-defence units in Jerusalem. He was sentenced to
15 years imprisonment, but his sentence was mitigated to 12 months, after
which he was sent to exile by the British authorities. The speech and the roar
are paraphrases on Amos 3.8; anger and fury are based on Nahum 1.6.
11. Ibid.
12. Ben Avi, “The War among Brothers in Tel Aviv” [Milḥemet ha-‘Aḥim be-
Tel Aviv], Do’ar ha-Yom, 8.10.1928.
13. Ibid.
14. Abba Aḥime’ir, “Current Issues (From the Notebook of a Fascist):
Regarding the Arrival of our Duce”, Do’ar ha-Yom, 8.10.1928.
15. Ibid. The ending phrase is taken from Exodus 24.7.
138 D. TAMIR
16. “Trumpeldors” was the nickname he gave the activists of Beytar, an

abbreviation of “Berit Yoseph TRumpeldor”. Joseph Trumpeldor (1880–
1920) was a decorated Russian army officer, a Zionist activist and a col-
league of Ze’ev Jabotinsky in establishing the British Hebrew Battalions
during the First World War. His death in a skirmish in the Galilee in 1920
became a Zionist myth; the Revisionist youth movement was called after
him.
17. Ibid.
18. Aḥime’ir, “What Should One Learn from Gandhi?”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm,
9.12.1932.
19. Letter by Aḥime’ir to Jabotinsky, 25.10.1928, JA P5–4/1.
20. Ibid.
21. Wolfgang von Weisl, “New Elections in Egypt”, Ha-Àm, 10.4.1931.
22. Von Weisl, “Four Ways Facing the Congress: The New Executive—a
Rescue-Mission Leadership”, Ha-Àm, 6.5.1931. In what regards global
geopolitics, Von Weisl held the opinion that although the prospects of
Zionism are grim, it might have a chance “if a new enemy would rise
against England from the East—the Soviets, for example—for then not
only England but the whole of Europe will call us, the Jews, for help—as it
did in 1916…”.
23. Ibid.
24. Dr Judah Leon Magnes (1877–1948) was a reformed rabbi, a pacifist
writer, and a supporter of “Brit Šalom”. He was one of the founders of the
Hebrew University in Jerusalem, and headed it from 1925 to 1935. The
Maximalists saw his support of making Palestine a “Bi-National” state as a
deep betrayal of Zionism.
25. “An American Newspaper about Magnes’s Betrayal”, Ha-Àm, 13.5.1931.
The article is a translation of an article by Wartsmann from the American
newspaper Brooklyner Jiddische Stimme.
26. Joshua Yevin, “Fire’s Guardians”, Ha-Àm, 12.5.1931.
27. Ibid.
28. Yevin, “Jews—Remember the Maccabia!”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 5.4.1932. The
first Maccabi Games took place in Tel Aviv from 28 March to 6 April 1932.
A concise history of Hebrew and Jewish sports at the time (in English) is
by Haim Kaufman, “Jewish Sports in the Diaspora, Yishuv, and Israel:
Between Nationalism and Politics”, Israel Studies 10 (2005),
pp. 147–167.
29. Grünberg, Shield Girdle and the Speech of Blood’s Son (Jerusalem: Sadan,
1929), strophe B, p. 4; cited by Joseph Aḥime’ir and Shmuel Shatzky, Brit
Ha-Biryonim: The First Anti-British Organisation. Documents and
Evidences (Tel Aviv: Nicanim, 1978), p. 13.
30. Jabotinsky, “The ‘Question’ of Presidency”, Ha-Àm, 3.6.1931.

31. Von Weisl, “The Psychosis of Victory”, Ha-Àm, 14.6.1931.
33. Von Weisl, “A Farewell Letter of Dr. Von Weisl”, Migdalor [“Lighthouse”],
11.9.1931.
34. “Proclamation of Maximalist Revisionist Zionism”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm,
9.8.1932. The proclamation was published on the front page, right under
the headline.
35. Ibid. Jabotinsky was in Paris at the time, while the central office of the
Revisionist movement was in London. The other demands were an inde-
pendent Zionist organisation, a war against the old Zionist funds, a direct
(i.e. physical) war against antisemitism (rather than just a political one).
36. A.A. (Abba Aḥime’ir), “On the Eve of the World Conference: From the
Diary of a Delegate”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 6.9.1932. The report about the con-
ference itself was quite short and succinct, probably because the Maximalists
had only modest success there.
37. Grossmann’s speech was printed under the title “Grossmann’s Speech on
Matters of Organisation”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 13.9.1932.
38. Von Weisl, “The Speech of Dr. Von Weisl”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 13.9.1932.
39. Aḥime’ir, “Romantic Realism or Realistic Romance”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm,
30.9.1932.
40. Ibid. In “Rienzi”, Aḥime’ir probably referred to Cola di Rienzo, the
Roman “tribune”.
41. Janotinsky’s speech at the Fifth World Conference of Revisionist Zionism,
1932. Quoted by Baruk Ben Abram, Parties and Political Streams during
the Time of the National Home, 1918–1948 [“Miflagot v-Zramim Poliŧijim
b-Tqufat h-Bajit h-Le’umi, 1918–1948”] (Jerusalem: The Israeli Historic
Society, 1978), pp. 225–226.
42. Joshua Yevin, “For Ze’ev Jabotinsky”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 30.3.1934.
43. The letter was sent from Tschernowicz, where Jabotinsky was on tour, on
17.5.1933. It was originally written in Russian, a language Aḥime’ir and
Yevin knew well. JA 2/23/1-A1.
44. Ibid. The text brought here was translated from the Hebrew version, made
available by the Jabotinsky Institute.
45. A letter from Jabotinsky to Moše Cohen, 17.5.1933, JA 2/23/1-A1. The
letter was sent from Tschernowicz, where Jabotinsky was on tour. In “peo-
ple who have been together with me since 1915” Jabotinsky hints at fellow
Zionist leaders, whom he hoped to convince to join his boycott initiative.
The letter was originally written in Russian, translated by the Jabotinsky
Institute.
140 D. TAMIR
46. Biography of Abba Aḥime’ir, written by the Jabotinsky Institute. JA

P-5/1/1.
1936), p. 5.
48. Kolitz wrote the biography after spending a few years at the University of
Florence and the Naval School in Civitavecchia.
50. Ibid., p. 33. Cf. with Aḥime’ir’s referral to the Indian leader in note 19
above.
51. Ibid., p. 82.
52. Ibid., p. 27; emphasis in the original. Compare with Aristotle, Metaphysics,
12, 7: “There is, then, something which is always moved with an unceasing
motion, which is motion in a circle; and this is plain not in theory only but in
fact. Therefore the first heaven must be eternal. There is therefore also some-
thing which moves it. And since that which moves and is moved is intermedi-
ate, there is something which moves without being moved, being eternal,
substance, and actuality”.
54. Ibid., p. 39; emphasis in the original.
55. Ibid., p. 50; emphasis in the original.
56. Šalom Rosenfeld, “Mussolini—With the Publication of the Book by Zwi
Kolitz”, Ha-Yarden, 20.11.1936.
57. Ibid. Rosenfeld was born in 1914, in Poland. A member of Beytar in his
youth, he migrated to Palestine in 1934 and remained active with the
Revisionist movement. See further analysis of his review in the concluding
chapter of this work.
58. Stern, draft in his notebook, written during 1940 or 1941. CZA A 549\65-
76. The whole fragment was erased by a big X across the page. This prob-
ably does not mean that Stern didn’t think so, but that he had another
version for this text, since in other places he meticulously and thoroughly
erased words and entire sentences he did not find suitable.
59. Zechariah 9.9.
60. Stern, draft in a notebook, written during 1940 or 1941. CZA A
549\18-18.
61. Ibid. Stern compares Elro’i to Aharon Aharonson, claiming that both were
handed over to the authorities by members of their community, who
objected to their political actions.
62. “Ya’ir” (an underground leaflet written and distributed by the NMO in
Israel, Tel Aviv, 1943), p. 10. Original kept at JA K5–1/7.
63. Ibid., p. 12.
64. Ibid., p. 13.

65. Ibid., p. 14.
66. Ibid., p. 21.
67. Abraham Stern, “The Leader”. Cited in “Ya’ir”: an underground leaflet
written and distributed by the NMO in Palestine (Tel Aviv, 1943), p. 42.
68. Jaàqob Ornšŧein, In Chains: Memoires of a Warrior [in Hebrew:
“B-Kbalim: m-Zikronotajv šel Loḥem”] (Tel Aviv: Ḥ ug Yedidim, 1973),
p. 156.
CHAPTER 9
“Born Amidst Blood and Fire”
“There are some things, gentlemen, which should not be bought”, wrote
Abba Aḥime’ir to his readers after the Wailing Wall riots in October 1928.
“If we still cannot get it through the means by which little Serbia became
Great Yugoslavia”, he argued, then “we should get the Wailing Wall due
to our political force”,1 concluding by saying that “when one has to hit
with one’s fists on the desks of the Keith-Roaches and the Lukes, should
we say to our leaders: ‘go for it!’—for in such issues, gentlemanhood and
lobbying are not only of no use, but harmful as well”.2
A more violent tone echoed in Aḥime’ir’s column the next week. This
time, after a violent brawl between Revisionists and communists, the tar-
get for violent action were the communist activists. Aḥime’ir—who was, a
few years earlier, a socialist activist—justified the violence. “Why were Jews
excited?”, he ridiculed the general public opinion, noting that indeed,
some commies were beaten. Didn’t you know, you “vegetarians”, that we,
the national youth, are in a state of war with those commies and their kind?
That we wage a war upon the Red Jewry until its defeat? They were the ones
who started it, they were the ones who cursed our language, they were the
ones who sent [people] to the Arctic circle for [struggling for] our nation.3
While the physical target of the Beytar activists (whom Aḥime’ir names
“national youth”) were local Communists, Aḥime’ir’s angry article was
directed mostly against the liberal public. “You vegetarians”, he continued,

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-73679-2_9
144 D. TAMIR
who call for peace and peace but there is no peace; you weaken the hands of
our youth, making our twenty-year-olds look like fifty! And we, the national
youth, we were too long enchanted, thinking that you are right. But finally,
we stood up… we are ready for battle, we, the national youth who espouses
the idea of statehood, against all those commies. And you, “halting between
two opinions”, going to Berlin and Brussels, “call to Egypt, go to Assyria”—
you, who are trying to have your cake and eat it at the same time—move
aside! Indeed, people get wounded. Have you thought that our war against
the commies is the war of M.B. and M.G., or some session at the magistrate’s
court? No, gentlemen. A war is a war. And we could not care less what the
herd, led by your boring articles, has to say. We do not care about the opin-
ion of the “Pontius Pilates”, who now wash their hands.4
Aḥime’ir ends his article with a paragraph which later became a symbol of
militaristic Israeli nationalism:
The breeding ground of the nation is not on your premises. Our nation is
not a wretched one… and our redeemer will come not in the image of a
poor man riding an ass. Our redeemer, like all redeemers, will arrive riding
a tank, carrying his speech upon the people.5
Two weeks later, Aḥime’ir made his violent enmity towards Marxism and
Marxists clear again, stating that
with Bundists, metamorphosed into Commis [sic], Yebsekjists or Poaley-

Zion, we have no common language. For them we have one answer, neither
spoken nor written, but by the means of the last festival’s night. The
“Comrade” Zrubabel did not dare to deliver his speech in Yiddish not
because he or his people lack the cheek for it, but rather because the lesson
they received that night and the lesson taught to “comrade” Žitlowski
15 years ago bore fruits.6
Further in his article, however, Aḥime’ir hinted that Liberals are no less
dangerous than Communists, arguing that one “should not fear neither
the commis nor the Poàley Zion, who act candidly, but rather from the
‘Gog-Magog’ and his like, who hiss like an adder…”.7
Naturally, violence was not limited to life in Palestine; it was an attri-
bute of politics worldwide. “Each and every one of us would like revolu-
tions and wars to cease and disappear from our world”, Aḥime’ir wrote
on 9 November, referring to the tenth anniversary of Czechoslovakia’s
independence.8 But what can one do, if
“BORN AMIDST BLOOD AND FIRE” 145
the Lord—or the blind forces of life—created this world with other calcula-
tions?… it would be shallow to think that the Czech revolution was made
peacefully, without bloodshed or even breaking some windows… there was
never such a revolution, in which “no window was broken”. Every revolution
demands human lives and “windows” to be sacrificed. Blood is the oil on
the wheels of revolution.9
The fierce public debate between Aḥime’ir to liberal journalists did not
cease. His principal opponent was Moše Glücksohn, the editor of
Ha-‘Aretz, who preached for moderate and tempered politics, acquies-
cence and long-term cooperation with the Mandate government. Aḥime’ir
chose to open his next column,10 at the beginning of November, with two
quotations of Otto von Bismarck. The first was quoted precisely:
Prussia has to coalesce and concentrate its power for the opportune moment,
which has already been missed several times… it is not by speeches and
majority resolutions that the great issues of the time are determined.
The second quotation was brought with a slight distortion of the origin:
“I just think, that solving the German question requires soldiers, rather
than speeches”.11 Aḥime’ir then turned to other metaphors. “The science
of physics differentiates between kinetic energy and potential energy”, he
wrote, and
sociology too tells us there are both kinetic and potential energies held
within the human society. Glücksohn thinks that our people has neither
kinetic nor potential energy, that we should create our statehood here by the
same means with which we lived during the years of exile: lobbying, adapta-
tion, flexibility and joyful kindness towards our enemies. On the other hand,
we—political Zionists—clearly declare that the political energy of our people
has already been transformed from potential energy into a political force.
This is why, Aḥime’ir argued, that members of the national youth are
“robbers”, “rioters” and “pogromists”, according to the proclamations of
“Poàley Zion”; it is no coincidence that the articles in the socialist press
“preach in favour of ‘gentlemanhood’ in social interaction, while we aspire
to teach the children of Judah the use of the bow…”.12 On the practical
level, Aḥime’ir asserted that
146 D. TAMIR
if we have only had 6000 rather than 600 Trumpeldors, and if the public
opinion in Palestine hadn’t been conducted by the current “National
Committee”—then the Keith-Roaches would not have dared molesting us
with the matter of the Wailing Wall, as they currently do. 6000 Trumpeldors
could have been enough in order to save our dignity. We wouldn’t have
declared war, but simply parade across the Old City; that would have suf-
ficed. One Jewish “Nabi Mussa” would have been of more use and would
have influenced His Majesty’s government far more than all the editorial
articles of Ha-‘Aretz and all the speeches in the plenum of the National
Committee.13
Then, in a clear and direct violation of all rabbinical traditions, Aḥime’ir

found the key to Jewish historical existence not in Jewish abstention from
political involvement, but in its proximity to historical activity—and a very
specific kind thereof. “The secret of Israel’s eternity”, he wrote,
has to do with the fact that our people lives among peoples who “shed
blood”, that is among young peoples, that is to say: people who live healthy,
non-emasculated political lives… it is no coincidence that we were preserved
in young Europe—vigorous, creative and belligerent Europe.
He then turns from the global analysis to his personal preferences. “Will a
day come, in which humanity would cease of fighting?”, he asks, immedi-
ately replying that
if such a day would come, I hereby declare that I’m happy for not living long
enough to see that day. This is my “should come and I shall not witness
it”.14 I feel a need for a stormy humaneness, the humaneness of the age of
20 or 30, not the humaneness of old people, a powerless, emasculated
humaneness. Doesn’t Mr. Glücksohn see that it’s precisely Europe, the
choicest of humanity, who tends to fight much more than the peoples of
Asia, who are sunk in their oriental slumber?15
In this article, Aḥime’ir presented his entire admiration for agitation and
activity, notwithstanding of the violent kind. During the next years he
constantly projected these general ideals on specific cases and events.
Although “the events of Simḥat Tora were forgotten”, he wrote two weeks
later, it was important to recall them, “since not every day such a miracle
occurs, when Ybsekians (in one guise or the other) get some punches from
Hebrews”.16 Having read that members of a Yiddish speaking socialist
group had sent to their colleagues in Vilnius some of the stones which
were thrown on them, together with their blood-stained shirts, Aḥime’ir
joyfully promised them that
if they continue to spread here their Ashdodian language, then the empty
museum of “Culture for the Wearies” in Vilnius will soon be filled with
shirts and stones from our country. And if they continue importing Yiddish
to our country, then they will also find themselves exporting more shirts,
stones, shards of glass and broken skulls….17
But this was not the end of it. Aḥime’ir promised his readers that
we, the national youth, are willing to help all these commies become mar-
tyrs, in order to make sure that no communist dog would dare to slot his
tongue here. We shall make all of them into martyrs, providing that the
national flag of the USSR will not wave here, and that the languages of the
USSR will not be heard here—in public occasions, at least… in exile we
were proud of our martyrs, and now we should start being ashamed of
them. A people living on his own land, a dominant people, should not boast
with martyrs, but with heroes. How splendid it is, that here in our country,
the commies are the martyrs.18
Although he had the full backing of his editor, Itamar Ben Avi, in 1928
Aḥime’ir acted as a lonely warrior. This situation changed in 1931, with
the establishing of Ha-Àm. From that year on, the Maximalist faction
within the Revisionist movement had its own independent platform.
Aḥime’ir was not alone anymore: he was joined by Grünberg, Yevin and
Von Weisl.
The violent tendencies took a more institutionalised path, accordingly.
“The current leadership in Palestine” of the New Zionist Organisation
(i.e. Von Weisl himself), “supported by nine tenths of the party, has took
the reign with one aim only: to guarantee the victory of a strong radical-
ism, loyal to its cause”.19 This claim, that certain causes may justify all
means, was voiced more than once. In the first part of a series of articles
titled “The Renewed Zionism”, among some other clear political postula-
tions,20 Von Weisl quoted Jabotinsky as saying that Revisionists should
“ally even with the Devil”, adding that
there are devils also out of the League of Nations, which might sometime be
worthy for us. Revisionism has only one goal: a Jewish statehood, whatever
the price is.21
148 D. TAMIR
While Von Weisl, the experienced journalist, was preaching for firm yet
legal political action, Brit ha-Biryonim called for physical action. “Not by
means of pleas for the Mandate government and the Agency’s potbellied
clerks would salvation come”, the group asserted, “but only thanks to the
flame burning in your own heart, thanks to your vigour and bravery”.22
The Biryonim called the youth
clearly and blatantly: to fight. Practically, to fight, like all oppressed peoples
had fought for the liberty of their homeland… This tough job we lay on
you, Hebrew youngster. But since when does youth resent tough jobs? You
must be a soldier, a truthful soldier, fighting for the honour of your
people.23
The use of force was perceived as a common political act in inner-Zionist

disputes as well. “We are ‘happy’ to inform our readers that the press
chamber of the Agency had sent us an item which we publish today”, thus
ending “the boycott it imposed last week on the Political Zionism’s news-
paper”.24 The boycott, according to Ha-Àm, “turned out to be a rusty
tool”, which was broken “because Ha-Àm answered the Agency’s boy-
cott by boycotting the press releases of Qeren ha-Yesod”. The lesson was
clear: “even with Zionism’s internal enemies one should fight with
Revisionist means, by means of pressure”.
Von Weisl was decisive that day. “Now the other newspapers also agree
with what we said a few years ago: that Weizmann is an instrument in
England’s service”. Since the British administration and parliament oppose
Zionism, and in light of the August 1929 riots and massacres and—even
more seriously—Passfield’s White Paper, what Zionism needs is
not a “Round Table” conference—which shall not take place—but a politi-

cal attack in London, Geneva, Hague, Rome, Paris, Warsaw and Berlin…
this is the ABC of Revisionism.25
The politics of the Zionist Executive vis-à-vis the British administration,

Von Weisl asserted, “resemble the saying of that Persian Commander who
said: ‘how bravely the Persians would have fought, if they only knew there
is no death…’”. But the real bravery, he argued, “is not to be afraid of
death, and the task of a Zionist statesman should be realizing his plans
despite the plans of Palestine’s government”.
About a week later, in an article titled “Four Ways Facing the Congress”,
Von Weisl detailed the various alternatives in which the Zionist Organisation
can proceed: presidency of Weizmann, presidency of Jabotinsky, a unifica-
tion of the parties or a secession. In this last case, the Revisionists shall not
cooperate with moderate politicians,26 but
leave Weizmann and let him to pay the debts he ran into, while we take the
youth; we leave him those Hebrew newspapers he supports, and take the
wide-visioned national poets and the national fire. We shall leave Weizmann
with the offices, the typing machines, the cash boxes, the telephones—and
take with us the living people, the future; we leave him with the clerks and
take with us the pioneers, the Beytar activists, the workers, the industrialists,
the students. We shall establish the new Organization, and leave Weizmann,
so he could meanwhile dismantle the old Organisation peacefully.
Thus, the revisionists shall establish the Independent Zionist Organization.27

Von Weisl, by that time a well-trained politician and executive, had
already started to plan the practical details of the secession. Joshua Yevin,
the newspaper’s cultural and literary critic, embarked upon the task of
mobilising the political forces needed for this new political constellation
among the movement’s constituency. In an article addressed to
Jabotinsky’s supporters, aimed at “encouraging the inner part” of the
movement, at a time when one speaks about “annexing Western Palestine
to Transjordan”, he claimed that “for five years already”, members of the
Revisionist movement have actually been those who “saved Zionism from
extinction”.28 The political debates he portrayed as a great war: Jabotinsky,
“a great leader gifted with a talent of prophecy”, had established the
movement “amidst a bitter war with gigantic enemies”. This war was not
over yet, since the Revisionists’ current battle against the withdrawal of
Zionism (i.e. the politics of the Zionist Organisation’s leadership, pre-
sided over by Weizmann), is equivalent to “the French defence on the
Marne”, in 1914. “A new fire was ignited in the Spirit of Israel”, Yevin
declared, distinguishing the members of the Revisionist movement, who
were “hated and despised all over”, as “the Guardians of Fire” of the
nation’s revival. “And on our Shrine”, Yevin concluded, “amidst the
poorness and disaster of our life, dwells the Lion of Fire, the Lion of
Israel’s rebirth”.29
150 D. TAMIR
About two weeks later, Uri Zwi Grünberg held a speech in an elections
gathering in Jerusalem, where he was greeted with “great Applause” by
the audience. “The public becomes stupid if it does not retaliate for the
blood”, he said, referring to the August 1929 massacre.30 According to
Grünberg, that public had two options: the first was “to choose the ongo-
ing exile in Canaan, and vote for the failed, the little shopkeepers, who are
petty talentless wheeler-dealers”. The second—“if they do not want this
exile”—was to “vote for the Zionist truth”. The choice was very clear.
On that day, the day of elections to the Zionist Organisation’s Assembly,
Yevin was just as decisive. The opponents’ way was one of deception and
blurring; it injected “poison, heresy and despair into our systems”.31 The
Hebrew community in Palestine now had
only two ways, not three. One way is the way of peace with the English
statesmen and with the neighbours—the way of giving up the Jewish major-
ity, giving up the growth and the expansion of the community, including the
thousands-of-years-old hope for revival in Zion; the way of alienation
towards all the sacrifices we made for the last fifty years, forgetting those
hundreds of pioneers who gave their lives for Zion… the way of alienation
towards all these sacrifices we made ourselves and all the years that we, living
in the deserts of Zion, have burned—the way of subservience, the way of
‘Brit-Šalomic’ obliteration.
The second way, however,
is that of comprehensive Zionism: clearly declaring our aim in the ears of the
entire world, embarking on a decisive war for the realization of Zionism, for
which all the vigour and enthusiasm of the people of Israel will be mobilised,
on both sides of the ocean; the way which does not try to justify Zionism by
the consent of any external factor—be it Arab or English—but by the belief
that Palestine is ours by blood, and we must act with all means in order to
make it ours in fact… Only by this way shall the system change, the resur-
rection of Zionism arrive and its flag rise again on the hills of Zion and all
the Jewish streets around the world, as in the days of Balfour’s Declaration
and San Remo. Only by this way… will the Second Congress of Basel
become, like Herzl’s first Congress of Basel, the founding congress of the
great national movement and the beginning of Israel’s salvation.32
Support of violence was not a unique event or a provocative statement for

public relations purposes. Grünberg’s speech in favour of an eye-for-an-eye
policy was not mere election rhetoric; he maintained this line of argumen-
tation also after the elections. “There is no blood which should not be
revenged with blood”, he declared after the British government decided

to forbid Jewish prayer next to the Wailing Wall in June 1931. “No shame
shall not be rewarded by shame.”33 In his view, the British government
was an evil one, like the Roman Empire at the time; and like during the
first century ad, there are those “Sanbalats” who collaborate with it.
Therefore, “one could give up and say: Israel has no redeemer; no
redeemer shall gain success among us, for the [spirit of] Exile has eaten
us”. But Grünberg concluded his article by saying that
since there is an awakening and revelation, and the Jewish people is strong
both in its spirit and its flesh, and it has the strength, like every young
nation, to live a life of statehood—I do not give up, but rather fight against
the dignitaries.34
After the Zionist Congress in Basel, in June that year, the secession was a
fait accompli. “The revisionist faction has finally left the Congress”, stated
an editorial in mid-July without hiding its Maximalist editors’ satisfaction.
“This leaving actually means leaving the ‘Zionist’ Organisation… which
was sold two years ago free of charge to some lords; an organisation in
which Zionism is constantly pushed to the corner, succeeded by totally
different ideologies”—namely liberalism and socialism.35 The frontier
lines became clear: on one side was the “Zionism of Fifty-Fifty” (either
socialist or liberal), and on the other side “a Zionist organisation with a
strong quality, whose Zionism is monist, which knows no fifty-fifty, nei-
ther with Warburg nor with Otto Bauer”.36 The article then presented the
group’s vision for an “independent Zionist organisation”, which would be
revolutionary-spiritual by its essence… our Zionist organisation kicked the

professional wheelers-dealers goodbye… the fire of Zionism will not be
cooled by gold’s glimmer, and the spirit of Zionism shall not be burdened
by gold’s weight. Only revolutionary Zionism will be strong enough to save
the Israeli [sic] youth from falling into the maw of communism.
The reason for this was clear, for
a movement, which does not require sacrifices from its members, making
them perceive it only as a source for jobs and titles, without final goals…
such a movement deals with common bagatelles. But a revolutionary move-
ment, which demands sacrifices from its members—such a movement has to
tell its people what their final goal is, what are its soldiers asked to sacrifice
themselves for.37
152 D. TAMIR
The article compared the Revisionist secessionists with the Russian

revolutionaries of 1905, the Serbs in their battles in Albania in 1916 and
the French fighting in Verdun in 1917. “We’re still waiting for our 1917”,
claimed the article—a clear call for revolutionary spirit. Naturally, the final
goal of the “Independent Zionist Organisation”—a state for Jews on both
banks of the Jordan, salvation of millions of the Sons of Israel—is the goal
of the whole people of Israel.38
In addition to such articles and declarations dealing with local politics,
the editors of Ha-Àm also brought from time to time foreign evidence to
support their social ideas: either by providing a foreign or a global per-
spective on the political events in Palestine and the Middle East, or by
presenting the readers with foreign political role models.
The abstract of a report by the Jerusalem correspondent of the Corriere
della Sera is an example of this first kind of translated foreign article. In the
short introduction to the article, the editor of Ha-Àm wrote that it is an
important reading, because “it reflects the public opinion of one of the
important superpowers interested in the near East”.39
The translated article supported Ha-Àm’s claims that Zionism was
initially a success story as long as Britain was favourable to it; but since
1922 the British government became hostile, maintaining its military and
administrative presence in Palestine only for its own interest. The article
argued further that most of the British administration in Palestine is anti-
Zionist and that the division among the Jewish parties is due to a consider-
able gap between political theory and political practice. “A political
colonial regime cannot reach anything through political charity”, the arti-
cle concluded; the policy of the old Zionist organisation could “ruin the
great reputation of the people of Israel as a smart, witty people”.40
The second kind of translated articles did not refer directly to Palestine
or Zionism, but brought examples of political action worth imitating.
Next to Strachey’s article about the roots of British fascism, Ha-Àm also
presented its readers the ideas of an even more successful fascist leader.
“To Live Means to Fight” was the title of an article by Benito Mussolini
published in July 1931.41 “Life means work and battle”, Mussolini
asserted. A clear advocate of anti-Stoicism, he ruled that “the philosophy
of the Stoics and the Epicureans about rest and leisure does not suit a
dynamic people”. Leisure was more suitable to “the nature of the peoples
of the Orient, by whom it was influenced”, implicitly defining the appro-
priate place for Italy (and for his followers in Palestine) in the Occident. In
order to succeed in life, “one should be well disciplined”, Mussolini wrote,
while praising healthy nutrition and plenty of sports. While “a healthy

body is a fighting one”, constant movement and activity, physical and spir-
itual dynamism—all are necessary not only for the body, but for the soul
as well. The whole passage, published in the inner part of the paper, seems
like a collection of excerpts from several sources. “Force creates Force” con-
cluded the Italian leader’s article.42
In his long, detailed historical review of political Zionism published a
month later, in August 1931, Aḥime’ir made clear that a new Zionist
Organisation cannot be based on the same principles as the old one, such
as “charity”. A new organisation must have new principles, “which fit the
new spirit of Revisionist Zionism”.43
The reason for that, in Aḥime’ir’s opinion, was grounded in the short
yet burdened history of Revisionist Zionism, which “was born by the
storm of war and revolution”. The first chapter in the history of Revisionist
Zionism, he argued, had been Jabotinsky’s campaign for the establish-
ment of the Hebrew Battalions during the First World War, while mem-
bers of Revisionist Zionism “spent their childhood or their youth between
the bullets of the World War or the civil war”.44 The wars, however, did
not end—but changed their phase and quality. The world was, during the
early 1930s, in the midst of an ideological-generational war. “The world
views which appeared after the catastrophes are marked by the recognition
of the great worth of the youth”, Aḥime’ir argued, since
generations replaced the classes. Eight million youngsters lost their lives in
the World War, and a similar number in the storm of the Russian Revolution.
The youth now demands its due, “taking revenge” of the generation who
was sitting at home during the years of disaster… the war between liberalism
and socialism on the one hand to communism and fascism on the other is a
war between fathers and sons. In Israel too, a war is waged between official
Zionism—which is allied with the Agency—and young, poor, “working
Palestine”, concentrated in Revisionist Zionism. This is a fathers-sons war as
well. Revisionist Zionism has nothing to learn from Zionism and Zionists:
neither ideology nor tactic.
All that said, he then turned to the present, as
the sated “bourgeoisie” is now seeking peace, and the “bourgeois” peo-
ples—these are the satiated peoples, like England, North America and
France—are the ones convening in Geneva and Locarno, preaching for limi-
tations on armaments. They do not need the war, for they have achieved all
154 D. TAMIR
they need. It is hard to disconnect their youth from the spoils in which it is
sunk, and demand from it self-sacrifice for national goals and public ideals.
Imperialistic appetite could be found, on the other hand, among the “pro-
letarian” peoples, the peoples who lost the war, whose public ideals were not
fulfilled. Those proletarian peoples are the Italian, the German, the
Hungarian, the Russian and others—but the most proletarian is, of course,
the Israeli people.
This was, implicitly, a call for war. But the editors of Ha-Àm used meta-
phors of war and combat also in other, less directly war-related contexts.
“We stretch the bands of our helmets and raise our torch up… and
continue to march in our path—forward, towards our liberty”, declared
the editorial marking the newspaper’s 100th issue.45
The battle was not always an armed one; it could also take the form of
civil disobedience. “The dozens of young men and women who went to
prison… knowing that fighting against the census they are fighting for the
liberation of their people and their country—those young men and women
performed a great revolutionary act”, wrote Yevin two months later, in a
special issue dedicated to the population census in Palestine (more pre-
cisely, to the Maximalists’ total refusal to take part in it).46 This civil dis-
obedience was the first act of national rebellion, Yevin argued, after 14
years in which Zionism became “a movement of certificates under the
power of Great Britain”. Zionism got used to this “legal status”, seeking
the approval of other forces. “This ‘NO’”, Yevin stated, had opened “a
new page in the history of new Zionism”. For Yevin (who, like Aḥime’ir,
was sure that the Revisionist movement “was born amidst blood and
fire”),47 it was clear that
a great liberation movement should not dream about “satisfying the wolf
while saving the sheep”, but rather make the sheep into a wolf, providing it
with sharp teeth, so it could defend itself from the predator.
The way of Revisionist Zionism “is not the way of idyll”,48 he summarised.
Physical action was not the only important thing; not less valuable was
the power of will. More than a hundred youngsters were arrested and
detained after taking part in demonstrations against the population cen-
sus49; here too, Yevin found good examples among the Hebrew youth.
While Mapay “has reached the utmost level of bankruptcy”, Yevin asserted,
“the new pioneer youth… is not ashamed to believe, to believe with all the
heat of its blood and its power to sacrifice, to believe simply in the redemp-
tion of Zion…”.50
The sharp, activist rhetoric of Ha-Àm caused its closure by decree of
the British Mandate authorities. But its successor, Ḥ azit ha-Àm (“The
People’s Front”) was just as belligerent. “We re-establish our stage”, stated
the editorial in its first issue,
for war in favour of Zionism, against all those trying to diminish it—inter-
nally and externally. We are at war with the whole camp of those who try to
hinder and obstruct it, with all these phenomena of degeneration and
treachery—especially that ideological confusion and blurring of the mind,
which is, today, an epidemic among the people “shaping public opinion”,
who are lost and confused themselves.
The call to the public was clear: “those who are for the Lord of Zion—join
us!… everyone who is thirsty for the living words of sorrowing brothers,
feeling the pain of the people and the pain of yet unredeemed Zion—
should rush to a new war for the living homeland, which is—among all the
catastrophes—like a bush on fire, yet not burned up!”51
If the reader had any doubt as to who these confused people “shaping
public opinion” were, another headline a few pages further made it clear:
“Treacherous Press Conquers the Writers’ Journal; Shutting the Mouth of
a Hebrew Poet by Command of Ha-‘Aretz”. A few months earlier, the
newspapers Dabar and Ha-‘Aretz had begun to finance “Ma’znayim”
[“Libra”], the official periodical of the Hebrew Writers’ Association.
When the work of a certain poet (whose name is mentioned only by his
initials, “J.S.”) was rejected by the editors of the periodical, the editors of
Ḥ azit ha-Àm saw it as yet another proof of the corruptive influence of the
other two newspapers on Hebrew culture and society.52
The next violent clash between the Maximalists and their liberal oppo-
nents broke out at the inauguration event of the Chair for international
relations at the Hebrew University, which was meant to be held by Norman
Bentwich.53 In line with the ideas of Judah Magnes and Brit Šalom, the
chair was named “Chair for International Peace”. The mere idea of estab-
lishing a Chair with such a name at the academic institute (“The Hebrew
College”, as it was named then) raised fierce criticism among the
Revisionists.
156 D. TAMIR
The formal inauguration event of the Chair was hampered by members

of Brit ha-Biryonim, led by Abba Aḥime’ir.54 The activists distributed
leaflets signed by “The Israeli National Youth”, claiming that
the pursuers of peace always symbolised in Israeli history the national trea-
son, assimilation, and self reduction… only the blind do not see that
Jerusalem is not the city of peace but the crater of a volcano… We do not
know any renowned university which has a chair for peace. But each and
every nation has a military academy.55
A violent quarrel broke out, and Judah Magnes, the head of the University,56
called the police to intervene in the fight in the campus on Mount Scopus.57
Fourteen people—Aḥime’ir among them—were arrested.
The same day, a commentary by Aḥime’ir about the Japanese war in
China was published in Ḥ azit ha-Àm. While older people cannot forget
names like Port Arthur, Muqaden and Harbin, the name Qiqihar, he
argued, “will soon be forgotten, since the conquest of this city by the
Japanese was quick and swift”.58 This swift conquest was possible because
for some decades the Chinese were too busy in work and commerce,
instead of building a military force. If the Chinese had built a well-trained
fighting force, people on the other edge of Asia would have either been
learning a lot about the geography of the area, due to the long campaign,
or not hear about the place at all, since the Japanese would not have dared
to attack. For the socialists it is totally clear that in this war, “the Chinese
are the righteous victims while the Japanese are evil”, just because they
lack weapons and a warring spirit. But
is the sheep always just? If this is justice, “may its throne be forever over-
thrown”! The new Hebrew might choose the evil of the brave rather than
the justice of the sheep!
Both the Chinese and the Japanese, Aḥime’ir argued, claim they are right
and just, but the Chinese will be even more just “if they learn the art of
war”.59
In an inaugurating article dedicated to the issuing of the new newspa-
per, Jabotinsky greeted its editors, emphasising the importance of a
political press. Unlike the socialist-Zionists and the liberal-Zionists,
Jabotinsky argued, the Revisionist movement had no physical institutions
(no banks or colonies); still,
great and mighty is an idea which—with neither mud nor brick-form nor
straw, but only through the declaration of a slogan, has this power to
conquer and triumph. Let us shout, a company of shouters, about the
danger!60
However, Jabotinsky (who was at that time in exile in Europe) then gave
the editors of Ḥ azit ha-Àm some advice. He advised them to express
their views in a moderate language, and to be careful with what they
write about other people, especially in matters of accusations. “But”,
Jabotinsky wrote, “how should I—providing advice from far away—
know whether such polite expressions suit the needs of local action”?
Sometimes, he maintained, “the public’s ears are already half-deaf”. In
such case, then, “my boisterous brothers—let us shout!” Consequently,
he concluded that
there is only one piece of advice which should be appropriate also from far
away, which is valid under all circumstances. Our aim at this moment is to
spur the public for war: primarily, an external one.61
Jabotinsky was very happy to see “the welcome reception the Zionist
students prepared in honour of Mr. Bentwich”; he shall be “even happier
to see Mr. Magnes descending from Mount Scopus”, but
not the inner indignity, but the external betrayal, the injustice of the foreign
ruler—these are the main issues. The foreign ruler… has the power, and he
knows how to exercise it in order to poison our life in our country: but the
public—that is a courageous public—also has the means to poison the lives
of the minister and the magistrate.62
Aḥime’ir disagreed with Jabotinsky on this point. In his opinion, the

external factors which contributed to Zionism’s crisis were only secondary.
“The main source [of the crisis] should be sought in Jewish factors”, he
stated in a short article written while he was arrested in Jerusalem that
month, awaiting his trial.63 “Our people in general and our youth in par-
ticular have not yet become ready for the great task of establishing the
kingdom of Israel… the maximal Israeli ideal was sought with minimal
means; even great Herzl did not demand sacrifice”. But in real life, “noth-
ing is given for free. Everything should be conquered and fought for”.
While socialist Zionism did understand the need for sacrifice, it preferred
158 D. TAMIR
socialism over nationalism. Furthermore: the consistent socialists (these

are the cooperative villages) were demanding asceticism and self-denial,
thus their socialism became “a monastery of the socialist religion”. While
“only few can go to a monastery”, Zionism “is for the whole people”. The
best Jewish youngsters, Aḥime’ir argued, joined the Bund and the
Communist party because “those promised life of heroism, adherence,
war, prison, gallows—not idle chatter and empty words, nor life in a
monastery”.64
The same week, the poet and the essayist Jacob Cohen came to Israel
from Poland. “Welcome, the poet of the Biryonim!” he was greeted by
Ḥ azit ha-Àm a day after his arrival.65 The newspaper described the author
of Brit ha-Biryonim’s anthem as “the poet of youth, strength and national
Hebrew honour”.66
Back in Vienna, Wolfgang von Weisl (after being sent there to organise
the New Zionist Organisation), also advocated in favour of preparing for
the coming war. Analysing the global economic conditions, Von Weisl
concluded that “a war will indubitably break out between England and its
allies in Europe and America on the one hand, and Russia and its allies in
Asia on the other”. This fact, he argued, “must dictate the essence of
future Revisionist politics”. Therefore, Zionism has “a positive and valu-
able task: getting ready and preparing the Jewish youth in the Diaspora
for the next war”. The same way that Hebrew battalions “took part in the
1914–1917 war, the Hebrew people would again be given a chance to
ally with one of the warring sides”. Von Weisl hoped “this would be
England”, but only after getting “clear and safe guarantees” for establish-
ing an independent state after the war. In such case, the Hebrew people
should be able to mobilise its military; “not a battalion—but a Hebrew
army”.67
In a similar militaristic vein, Yevin opined that the spectators of the
Makkabi games held in Tel Aviv that year were excited not only to watch
the high quality sports, but also to view the parades and the ceremonies
accompanying them. The reason that it was exactly these parades which
made the greatest impression on the public “is clear and simple: here
chanted the expression of potential Hebrew force of this wonderful youth,
who is able to shift mountains, while now a stupid, inept leadership is
continuously wasting its time”. Yevin was delighted to witness that deep
inside the Hebrew community’s heart one can still feel
the great yet very simple, very primitive longing, this longing which is vivid
and beating in every persecuted and oppressed people: the longing for
power, for real statehood… the longing to be not slaves but free people, not
sheep to be slaughtered but on the contrary—exactly like all other
peoples….68
The issue of 9 June 1932 was a large one: it was published a few days
before Pentecost, just after the Jewish second harvest festival (“Lag
b-Òmer”), traditionally commemorating the Jewish rebellion against
Rome in 132 ad. Next to a historical article by Josef Klausner69 about Bar-
Kokba’s rebellion, the issue also contained articles by Aḥime’ir and Yevin.
“Two doctrines accompanied the people of Israel during its 3000 years
of existence”, Yevin argued. The first claims that Israel is a people like all
others; it should live earthly life, seek earthly conquest and “hold all the
attributes of a people living earthly political life”. The second preaches in
favour of abandoning earthly-political activity, in order to become “a king-
dom of priests” and “a theocracy bearing a spiritual mission”. The external
victories of the Roman emperors Titus and Hadrian caused the internal
triumph of the “spiritual” doctrine. But, in contrast to this tradition,
our slogan is: a return to Bar-Kokba’s doctrine… for the rightness of the
movement and its truth are not at all measured by its temporary success…
We say: Bar-Kokba’s doctrine is true; this means that the doctrine of the
Flaviuses, the adapters, those who bear the standard of “objective reality’s
conditions” and order us to bow our heads in front of it… this doctrine is
false.70
Aḥime’ir was more historical and less contemporary in his article. He also
made a connection, however, between the Great Rebellion of 70 ad and
the Bar-Kokba rebellion of 132 ad. “Bar Kokba’s rebellion [in 132 ad]
and the rebellion of the Zealots [70 ad] are nothing but one event, whose
name is The Great Israeli Revolution”, he argued. “There is no revolution
without a public ideal, which the bearers of that revolution hope to fulfil
during their lifetime.” As a motto for his article, Aḥime’ir brought a cita-
tion of Goethe:
Du must steigen oder sinken\Du must herrschen und gewinnen\Oder

dienen und verlieren\Leiden oder triumphieren\Amboss oder Hammer
sein.71
160 D. TAMIR
Militarism and aspiration to military power were not limited to the news-
papers’ articles; it was also a way of personal greeting. “To our friend
Aharon Polak”, read an ad signed by Aḥime’ir and Yevin in June 1932,
“Congratulations on your son’s birth. May you see him as a soldier in
Israel’s kingdom’s army.”72
Admiration of the power of will was evident in Hebrew perception of
Italian fascism as well. According to his first Hebrew biographer, Mussolini
did not believe in fate, but rather “in Will”. Kolitz cited him as saying that
“one should know that progress is made in life only through iron-cast will,
able to defeat even fate itself”, concluding that “Power of the Will—this is
Mussolini’s motto”.73 Kolitz made it clear, however, that the demand for
sacrifice is not a unique feature of Mussolini, but a prerequisite for every
successful leader:
Louis XVI, the contemporary of Napoleon, a guzzler king, did not demand
anything of his people: no fighting, no effort, no sacrifice—and still, he was
hated, mocked and despised. Napoleon, on the contrary, demanded from
his people the maximum: hundreds of thousands of lives; almost insane
patriotic vigilance; physical, spiritual, political and financial efforts… and
still, he was beloved. Not the crowds, who might be taken by changing
moods, can take the steering-wheel to their hands, but an individual, crys-
tallised and unified force, dictating its will. Psychology teaches us that this is
exactly the regime people like.74
Kolitz then quoted Mussolini’s proverb saying that “it is better to live one
day as a lion, than hundred days as a sheep”,75 a proverb he also follows in
his life, as he (Mussolini)
remained enchanting and dynamic from his childhood until today. Now, as
Fascist Italy’s leader, he does not have a moment of rest. For him, serenity is
mire.76 Mussolini does not know any middle-way or a “Golden Path”. He
says that “people who stand on the same spot—are dying people”. In his
view, stagnation is regression—and Mussolini wiped this word out of mod-
ern Italy’s political and military lexicon.77
For Abraham Stern, who was a student in Italy at about the same time as
Kolitz, the legitimacy for the use of violence went without saying. “The evil
forces controlling us today”, he wrote in a draft for the first publications of
the NMO in Israel, “must be overthrown by a strong hand”. This is what
should be done “at a time of national revolution. This sacred task is imposed
on you, the strong, fresh, Hebrew youth.”78 The youth, therefore, should
get ready for the war of liberty. Teach your hands to war, and your fingers to
fight.79 Toughen your will and be ready for whatever sacrifice for your peo-
ple, Israel, and your homeland—the Land of Israel.80
The use of force was clearly declared not only internally, for mobilising
Hebrew youngsters, but externally as well. “The NMO sees fighting and
sacrifice as the only true means for the conquest and the liberation of
Palestine”, read the communiqué submitted to Von Hentig in 1941.81
“The NMO, who embarked on acts of terrorism already in the Autumn of
1936 … came to the fore by a successful intensification of its terror and
sabotage actions against English property.”82 This is how the organisation
blatantly presented itself, declaring not only its aims, but its means as well.
Conclusion
“I found out that what one wishes to himself in his innermost—in a
moment of real decision—may become real… if one would just live long
enough to experience it”, wrote Wolfgang Von Weisl decades after the
events described here.83 From all the nine mobilising emotions in Paxton’s
model, the belief in the efficacy of will was probably the strongest and
most significant among the members of the examined group. Declarations
about the beauty—and the necessity—of violence were omnipresent in the
articles of Aḥime’ir, Yevin and Grünberg (founders of Brit ha-Biryonim),
Von Weisl and later Stern.
While the members of the group shared the same core of ideology
regarding activity and the power of will, its manifestations were different.
While Von Weisl preached in favour of using political force within the
Zionist institutions, Aḥime’ir was actually leading practical violent activists
in the streets and the halls of the Hebrew University, whereas Yevin and
Grünberg emphasised the role of violence in the moral and social revival
of the nation. Altogether these different manifestations were parts of one
continuous and comprehensive political discourse.
One could differentiate between three various sorts of violence per-
ceived and discussed by the members of the Maximalist group. First was
historical violence: the assertion that violence was, is and will remain a
central part of human behaviour—a fact that cannot be changed. Second
was practical violence: preaching for the use of violence against internal
enemies (usually liberals and socialists) and external ones (such as the
162 D. TAMIR
British authorities). Last but not least was essential violence: a principle of
political existence, with its own independent value.
Furthermore, beside its practical usage in everyday politics, the assump-
tion that the Messiah would come “on a Tank” gave violence a redemptive
role. Redemption, in this view, did not have the possibility, but the obliga-
tion to be achieved by force.
As with the cult of the leader, in the issue of violence too the Maximalists
presented their leader with a dilemma. On the one hand, Jabotinsky
regarded political activism favourably. The main reason for his departure
from mainstream Zionism (first with the establishment of the revisionist
movement in 1925, and later with the secession from the Zionist
Organisation in 1931) was his criticism of the Zionist policy, which was
too passive in his opinion. On the other hand, the Maximalists’ deeds and
actions became sometimes too extreme and uncompromising. Although
sometimes he praised Maximalist “Adventurism”, it would not be far-
fetched to claim that Jabotinsky was very often struggling to “hold the
horses” of Maximalist violence (Fig. 9.1).
Fig. 9.1 Abraham “Yair”

Stern, 1936. Courtesy of
the Jabotinsky Institute in
Israel
It is in this context that one should see the secession of Stern and his
followers from the NMO in 1940. Less than a decade before, Aḥime’ir,
Yevin, Grünberg and their followers not only praised uncompromising
action, but were also implementing their ideas (at least until 1933, when
they were imprisoned). Stern, in this aspect, simply remained consistent
with this line, merely escalating the struggle from an unarmed to an armed
one, as he thought was needed by changing circumstances of the Second
World War. This armed struggle, he asserted, should be carried out by a
small, dedicated political group.
* * *
Notes
ha-Yom, 8.10.1928.
2. Ibid. Edward Keith-Roach was governor of Jerusalem; Harry Charles Luke
was then Chief Secretary of the Palestine Government.
ha-Yom, 14.10.1928.
4. Ibid. For the biblical citations, cf. 1 Kings 18.21 and Hosea 7.11. “M.B.”
is Moše Beilinsohn, the editor of the socialist newspaper Dabar; “M.G.” is
Moše Glücksohn, the editor of the liberal newspaper Ha-‘Aretz.
5. Aḥime’ir, op. cit.
6. Aḥime’ir, “Current Issues (From the Notebook of a Fascist): An Answer to
the ‘Comrades’, the ‘Members’ and the ‘Gentlemen’”, Do’ar ha-Yom,
28.10.1928. The attack on the Poàley Zion Club in Tel Aviv during Jacob
Zrubabel’s speech was carried out in the night after “Šimḥat Tora”, ending
the week of Tabernacles festival. The Yebsekyists were Jewish supporters of
the Communist Party in the USSR; Ḥ ayim Žitlowski experienced a similar
(though less violent) protest as he was about to deliver a political lecture in
Yiddish in Jaffa, in 1914. See Šabiŧ, “Tel Avivan, Speak Hebrew!: The
Partial Success of the Hebrew Revolution”, Panim 45 (2008), pp. 50–65.
7. Ibid. Cf. with Babylonian Talmud Soŧŧa, 22, 72.
8. Aḥime’ir, “Current Issues (From the Notebook of a Fascist): Shallowness,
or even Worse”, Do’ar ha-Yom, 9.11.1928.
9. Ibid.
164 D. TAMIR

Mr. Glücksohn”, Do’ar ha-Yom, 4.11.1928. The column bore the subtitle
‘Tell the Master who has Created Me’, a paraphrase on the Talmudic tale
about Rabbi Elazar. See Babylonian Talmud Ta’anit 20, 2.
11. Ibid. The first quotation, “Preußen muß seine Kraft zusammenfaßen und
zusammenhalten auf den günstigen Augenblick, der schon einige Male ver-
paßt ist… nicht durch Reden oder Mehrheitsbeschlüsse werden die großen
Fragen der Zeit entschieden”, is taken from Bismarck’s speech of “Blood
and Iron”, delivered on 30.9.1862. The second is probably based on
Bismarck’s saying that “die deutsche Frage kann nicht in den Parlamenten,
sondern nur durch Diplomatie und auf dem Schlachtfeld gelöst werden” (my
emphasis). Aḥime’ir clearly omitted the word ‘diplomacy’.
12. Ibid. The last citation is from 2 Samuel 1.18.
13. Ibid.
14. Sanhedrin 92.2. Aḥime’ir uses here only the phrase itself, not necessarily in
the context of redemption.
15. Aḥime’ir, op. cit.
16. Aḥime’ir, “Current Issues (From the Notebook of a Fascist): Echoes of
Šimḥat Tora’s Night”, Do’ar ha-Yom, 19.11.1928.
17. Ibid.
18. Ibid.
19. Wolfgang von Weisl, “The Fear of Bravery”, Ha-Àm, 9.4.1931.
20. Von Weisl, “The Renewed Zionism (A)”, Ha-Àm, 17.4.1931. He postu-
lates that Revisionism is the only true Zionism; while it has nothing against
the Arabs, there is no such thing as “Arab Unity”. He also states that
Zionism was active in Palestine before the beginning of the British man-
date and will be there also after Britain’s rule would come to an end.
21. Ibid. Von Weisl might have had the USA in mind. A decade later, however,
the NMO in Israel, under the leadership of Abraham Stern, would contem-
plate signing a treaty of military alliance with Italy and Germany during the
Second World War. See the concluding chapter of this work.
22. Brit ha-Biryonim, “Speech of the Biryon”, Ha-Biryon 5 (April 1931). An
original is kept at the CZA. PR-3693.
1931).
24. “End to the Agency’s Boycott on Ha-Àm” (no author’s name; probably
Aḥime’ir), Ha-Àm, 28.4.1931. “The Agency” was the Jewish Agency of
Palestine, the executive body of the Zionist Organisation in Palestine.
25. Von Weisl, “Weizmann, the Arabs and the Fools”, Ha-Àm, 28.4.1931.
Sidney James Webb, First Baron Passfield (1859–1947), was Secretary of
State for the Colonies from June 1929 to August 1931. The “Passfield
White Paper”, issued 1 October 1930, was a revision of the 1922 Paper,
reshaping British policy in Palestine, in what the Revisionists saw as a dete-

rioration of the political conditions in Palestine. The fact that Webb was a
well-known socialist activist probably did not contribute to his esteem in
Von Weisl’s eyes.
26. Von Weisl explicitly names Grünbaum and Ussischkin.
27. Von Weisl, “Four Ways Facing the Congress” (part 2), Ha-Àm, 7.5.1931.
28. Joshua Yevin, “Fire’s Guardians”, Ha-Àm, 12.5.1931.
29. Ibid.
30. “A Public Event of Revisionist Zionism in Jerusalem: Uri Zwi Grünberg
Speaks about the Zionist Truth to the People of Jerusalem”, Ha-Àm,
25.5.1931. The gathering took place the evening before, on 24 May 1931.
The audience, according to Ha-Àm’s estimate, numbered about 2000
people. Grünberg was the second speaker, after Von Weisl, who spoke
about “the failures of the bankrupt leadership” of the Zionist Organisation.
An interesting detail is that he was quoted as saying that the only way to
save Zionism is by “getting rid of the failed leadership and renewing the
movement”. Apparently, at that moment, the secession plan was not a
done deal yet.
31. Yevin, “The Day of Judgment”, Ha-Àm, 25.5.1931.
32. Ibid.
33. Grünberg, “Sons of Tobias and their Faction”, Ha-Àm, 14.6.1931.
34. Ibid.
35. “The People’s Diary”, Ha-Àm, 14.7.1931.
36. Ibid. Otto Warburg was brought here a symbol of liberal, moderate
European Zionism; Otto Bauer was synonym for socialism.
37. Ibid.
38. Ibid. The tentative name for the new organisation was the Independent
Zionist Organisation; a few years later, with its official inauguration, it will
be called New Zionist Organisation.
39. “A large Italian Newspaper about the Problem of Zionism” (no author),
Ha-Àm, 2.8.1931.
40. Ibid.
41. Benito Mussolini, “To Live Means to Fight”, Ha-Àm, 24.7.1931 (trans-
lated into Hebrew by Jicḥaq Abner).
42. Ibid., emphasis in the original.
44. Ibid. Aḥime’ir means the Russian civil war, which he has personally experi-
enced; he changed his family name from Geissenovicz to Aḥime’ir (mean-
ing “Me’ir’s Brother”) in memory of his brother, who was killed in that
war. Von Weisl was a Lieutenant in the Austrian artillery; Grünberg was an
infantry soldier. Yevin served as a military physician in the Russian army.
166 D. TAMIR
45. People’s Soldier, “100th Issue”, Ha-Àm, 7.8.1931. The disciplined usage
of helmets might indicate that the article was written by Von Weisl, the
veteran officer, who used such terminology in other articles and books as
well.
46. Yevin, “To the Prisoners of Zion”, Special Issue: “The Community and the
Census”, 22.10.1931. The mobilisation of young activists against the cen-
sus was one of the first actions of Brit ha-Biryonim. See Joseph Aḥime’ir
and Shmuel Shatzky, Brit Ha-Biryonim: The First Anti-British Organisation,
Documents and Evidences (Tel Aviv: Nicanim, 1978), pp. 236–238.
47. Yevin, “The Path of Revisionist Zionism: The Situation in 1931 and Future
Prospects”, Migdalor, 11.9.1931.
48. Ibid.
49. “Balance of the Activities against the Census”, Mišmar ha-‘Umma [“The
Nation’s Guard”], 24.12.1931. The exact number of detainees given was
123, both men and women. The main article in this special issue opined
that “the whole census was a fraud”, meant solely to empower the Arab
population and weaken the Jewish population in Palestine.
50. Yevin, “The Blatant Bankruptcy”, Mišmar ha-‘Umma, 24.12.1931.
51. “Who’s to the Lord of Zion—Join Us!” (editorial), Ḥ azit ha-Àm,
29.1.32. The concluding metaphor is based on Exodus 3.2.
52. “The Treacherous Press Conquers the Writers’ Journal” (no author),
Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 29.1.32.
53. Norman Bentwich (1883–1971), an expert of international law who was
the attorney general of the British government in Palestine, held the chair
only for a few weeks. He then left the university, and returned there only
in 1945; until 1951 he was professor for international relations.
54. About the establishment of the Chair in the Hebrew University, see Uri
Cohen, “University vs. Society in a Period of Nation Building: The Hebrew
University in Pre-State Israel”, Historical Studies in Education (2007),
pp. 81–110.
55. The text of the leaflet was published under the title “To the Zionists and
the Israeli Youth” in Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 12.2.1932.
56. His title at that time was Kanzler—parallel, more or less, to the Rektor and
the President of today.
57. The Revisionists argued that the physical quarrel began when a supporter
of Brit Šalom attacked one of the protesters with bare fists. “A Brit Šalomic
Clerk Starts a Fight”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 2.2.1932.
58. A. Medini (pseudonym of Abba Aḥime’ir), “Qiqihar (A Political
Feuilliton)”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 12.2.1932.
59. Ibid.
60. Jabotinsky, “The People’s Front”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 22.3.1932.
62. Ibid. This call of Jabotinsky clarifies that in his view, the editorial board of
Ḥ azit ha-Àm—especially Aḥime’ir, who led the protests against the Chair
for International Justice—should concentrate their efforts against the
British rather than against other Zionist factions.
63. Aḥime’ir, “Letter to the Youth”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 29.3.1932. The article
was written in the central prison in Jerusalem, on 17.3.1932. Aḥime’ir was
brought to trial on 2 May 1932, together with 11 other youngsters who
were arrested on Mount Scopus. He was charged and found guilty of riot-
ing, interrupting the work of the police and insulting a civil servant.
Aḥime’ir was sentenced to a fine of £3 or 28 days imprisonment. Like all
the other activists, he preferred to go to jail; “with national hymns on their
lips”, the whole group went there. “A Fair End to the ‘Preaching of Peace’
by Magnes and Bentwich”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 6.5.1932.
64. Ibid.
65. “Important Guest”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 22.3.1932.
66. “Reception for Jacob Cohen”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 1.4.1932.
67. Von Weisl, “On the Eve of the New World War”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 29.3.1932.
68. Yevin, “Jews—Remember the Makkabia!”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 5.4.1932.
Today, the Makkabia International Games are held every four years and are
recognised and approved by the International Olympic Committee. For a
detailed account of the political background of the games see Amichai
Alperovich, Israel in der olympischen Bewegung: Dissertation zur Erlangung
des akademischen Grades Doktor der Sportwissenschaft (Köln: Deutschen
Sporthochschule, 2008), pp. 68–71.
69. Josef Klausner, “Thousand Eight-Hundred Years to Bar Kokba’s
Rebellion”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 9.6.1932.
70. Yevin, “Bar Kokba’s Doctrine”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 9.6.1932. He actually
paraphrases on a sentence written by Grünberg: “…and Bar Kokba’s doc-
trine is true—also with the collapse of Beytar…”.
71. Aḥime’ir, “Chapters of the Great Revolution in Israel: The Period of Bar
Kokba’s Rebellion”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 9.6.1932. Goethe’s verses were
brought in German and in a Hebrew translation.
72. Yevin and Aḥime’ir, add, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 24.6.1932. The ad was one inch
wide, on the front page.
1936), pp. 27–28. Emphasis in the original.
74. Ibid., pp. 45–46.
75. Ibid., p. 77.
76. In Hebrew, “šeqeŧ hu’ refeš”: a famous verse from the hymn of Beytar,
written by Jabotinsky in 1932.
77. Kolitz, op. cit., pp. 84–85.
168 D. TAMIR
78. Stern, draft in his notebook, probably written during 1941. CZA A
549\65–62.
79. Cf. Psalm 144.1.
80. Stern, op. cit.
82. The first planned and declared terror actions of the NMO actually took
place on 17 August 1936, as members of the organisation ambushed a
train near Jaffa, killing one person and wounding five. See Benny Morris,
Righteous Victims: A History of the Zionist-Arab Conflict, 1881–1999
(London: John Murray, 2000), p. 137. The term “Terrorist” was not
understood as an abuse at that time by some right wing militants in
Palestine. See for instance Doris Katz, I Was a Terrorist (Jerusalem: Karni,
1953), in which the author tells the story of her service by the NMO,
between 1945 and 1948 (the book was translated from English into
Hebrew by Zwi Rin, Uri‘el Halperin‘s brother).
83. Editorial, “Das war Wolfgang von Weisl”, Schalom: Zeitschrift der
österreichisch-israelischen Gesellschaft, April 1974, pp. 4–7. The journal
published a few excerpts from Von Weisl’s unpublished autobiography a
few weeks after his death.
CHAPTER 10
The Stronger Rules: Might Is Right
“The good press—the one called ‘left press’—already stands and declares
about the crimes of fascism”, Abba Aḥime’ir wrote in Ha-‘Aretz during the
short period in which he published his articles there, “and after the public is
fed up with the issue of Mateotti—this Fascist toothpick which prevents many
socialists and other vegetarians from seeing the Bolshevist log—they began
signalling together an alarm about the issue of Southern Tyrol”. But Aḥime’ir
had no intention to dwell on that subordinate issue. “What is good and moral
and gentleman-like in relations between human beings”, he argued,
is harmful and useless in the relations between one human society to another.
And if the leader of a certain human society would take its private relations
as a measure for its relations as a representative of his society, it will be haz-
ardous for his society. Miserable are the passengers of ship whose Captain
navigates it according to the Kantian absolute imperative!
Indeed, Italian Fascists were trying to “Italianise” inscriptions all over

Südtirol—even in cemeteries—as a part of their attempts to galvanise the
national body. Indeed,
ethically, the Italianisation of tombstones in South Tyrol is not a pretty

thing… but here we deal with politics, neither with ethics nor with aesthetics.
These kingdoms are totally separate from each other… severe political prob-
lems are solved neither by the tip of the pen nor by the fluid of the inkstand,
but by the iron of the lance and the fluid running within human veins.1

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-73679-2_10
170 D. TAMIR
This idea, that a small group should impose its will on others, echoed also
in his solemn article welcoming Jabotinsky upon his arrival to Palestine, in
October 1928. This time already in Itamar Ben-Avi’s Do’ar ha-Yom,
Aḥime’ir wrote that
our “Duce” should not be sad due to the fact that only a handful of people
had gathered under his flag, for such is the way of the world: the minority
shall rule the majority. Rule truly, either by the force of his arms or by the
force of his faith. The “Duce” should organise here that handful of people
who are able to obey him and establish the “National Guard”. He should
not spend time conquering the wide herd.2
Four weeks later, he used the same platform for a direct attack on the edi-
tor of his former newspaper, in a similar vein. “Mr. Glücksohn”, he
addressed the chief editor of Ha-‘Aretz, “your articles find their resonance
in the ears of the Philisters in our community, the majority”. The political
minority, however, “will not go with the Glücksohns”. By “Philisters”
Aḥime’ir referred to all factions and parties which did not adhere to
Jabotinsky’s political activism. But this wasn’t actually a problem. “Please
notice, Mr. Glücksohn”, he wrote, “that the majority hasn’t yet taken over
the minority; for always, the vigorous and active minority is the one domi-
nating the majority.”3
Three years later, similar ideas were voiced in Ha-Àm. “For years”,
asserted Wolfgang von Weisl, “we carried the yoke of hatred and con-
tempt” by other, non-Revisionist Zionists. “The current leadership [of the
New Zionist Organisation] in Palestine… took the rein with one aim only:
to guarantee the victory of a strong radicalism, loyal to its cause.”4 After a
brief review of the arguments and disputes within the Revisionist move-
ment (between the Maximalists and their “moderate” opponents within
the movement),5 Von Weisl clarifies that “we, radical Revisionists, have a
secret: we do not necessarily find interest in regulations, forms and formu-
lations, but do what suits us and what we perceive as useful for the peo-
ple”. When the Maximalists are convinced that the whole revisionist
movement is full of enthusiasm,
we have the right—even as a minority—to pronounce: the Flag of Zion is in

our camp. And neither Judas Macabeas nor Nehemia have waited for the
decisions of any congress….6
THE STRONGER RULES: MIGHT IS RIGHT 171
During the same month, the Biryonim made similar assertions, and
expressed them even more clearly. “In these moments of rage, throw out
of your mind the modern doctrines—and remember the doctrine of the
ancient legislator: eye for eye, tooth for tooth.”7 Von Weisl, commenting
about Revisionist success in the elections for the Zionist Assembly a month
later, agreed with the general idea, but preferred to see it as a new rather
than an old one. “A new era has come”, he wrote, “with new ideas and
new people—who carry it with them.”8 The same day, Ha-Àm published
the list of Revisionist candidates for the Zionist Congress. Jabotinsky was
first on the list; Grünberg was second and Von Weisl third (Aḥime’ir and
Yevin were not on the list).9
And indeed, the Revisionists succeeded considerably in these elections
to the Zionist Congress, which Ha-Àm portrayed as a battle of a few
determined, devoted activists against the rich and mighty majority. “We
had no Aparatus, no one on the payroll”, read its editorial,
all our work was done by volunteers—and this is how we managed to defeat
the Red thugs. The volunteers won without money, no checks and compli-
ments, but only with the power of their belief, bound to an idea.10
The atmosphere was that of a new beginning. “We talk to the courage, to
the shining of this people’s stubbornness, which did not disappear for mil-
lennia”, he explained the rationale of Revisionist avant-garde. Although
this is only a small glimmer, Revisionists “are here to fan this shining of
stubbornness and this twinkle of rebellion into a fire… even if everybody
will be ‘practical’, for compromise and liquidation—we still say ‘no!’”.11
As Pentecost was approaching, Joshua Yevin asserted that the time was
ripe for new laws, using a paraphrase on the giving of the Ten
Commandments in Mount Sinai. The fate of Zionism, he argued, was at
that historical moment
similar to that of the generation exiting Egypt. The first Tablets of Zionism
were damaged, because the leaders of this generation bowed to a Calf,
exchanging the holiness of the idea with the rite of gold. Now we, the
collective Moses, make new Tablets, inscribed with the commandments of
Zionism, instead of the first tablets, which were broken.
The parallel was clear: the majority among the Zionists were sinners, while
Revisionists, like Moses, were the only righteous ones. The Revisionist
(relative) success in the Zionist elections was parallel to the Sons of Israel’s
172 D. TAMIR
rejection of the Golden Calf. “From a stubborn tiny group we became the
movement of the people… the people is with us, and his being with us
commits us to the fate of the movement.”12
Aḥime’ir agreed with this notion of the emergence of a new era in
Zionism. “We do not have any hatred towards these living mummies” he
replied with forgiveness of the reactions of the liberals and the socialists
towards the closing of the newspaper in the weeks before the Zionist
Congress in Basel. “We wish them a sweet slumber, for they deserted the
battle and succumbed to the indifference of old age—so let them rest.”13
The days of euphoria, however, did not last for long. “Revisionist
Delegates Leave the Congress” read the newspaper’s headline in mid-July.
“The Congress Rejects Revisionist Proposal Regarding the State of the
Jews; Jabotinsky and all Revisionist Delegates Tear their Member-Cards”.
The political battle between Revisionists and socialists within the Zionist
Organisation escalated: Grossman suggested a resolution declaring the
foundation of a Jewish state as Zionism’s final aim; Arlosoroff suggested
this issue not be put to vote, and this proposal was accepted by a majority
vote. “A member of the Revisionist Party, from Basel, removes the blue-
white flag from the Congress’ stage, since it is no longer a Zionist one”,
read the report about the congress. “Jabotinsky publicly tears his delegate
card. Within much ado, the Revisionist leave the Congress’ venue”—thus
breaking away from the Zionist Organisation, after the majority of dele-
gates rejected their proposed political plan.14
In return, Yevin published an appeal for rescuing Zionism. “Six years
ago, when Jabotinsky established the Revisionist movement, it numbered
just a small handful of people”, he reminded his readers. And so it was also
at the end of 1929, when a small group of people gathered around the revi-
sionist Do’ar ha-Yom… we were just a tiny group versus Weizmann’s presi-
dency, with its huge Apparatus and aligned press—and still, the leaders of
Weizmann-Zionism noticed, with their excellent collaborationist senses,
that we posed the great danger to their mere existence.15
Yevin recalled that “there was not a single conspiracy or filthy trick” the
liberal and socialist Zionists did not use against Revisionism but they had
achieved a lot with their activists:
the Brit-Shalomic snake was crushed… and our movement became the
teacher and the guide, the pioneer of all streams of Zionism—even of those
who oppose us clearly and publicly.
The ideas and initiatives which had been “cooked” in the Revisionist labo-
ratory, Yevin claimed, were later “stolen” by other parties.16 The leader-
ship of the Zionist organisation at that time were “Sanbalats”: a direct
parallel with those who had collaborated with the Roman rulers during
the first century ad. These non-Revisionist Zionists—“masters of Jesuit
tactics, the treacherous heroes of petty internal politics”—have tried to
“break our movement from within”. But the Maximalists “know that ours
is not the way of compromise and mitigation… no way!” Revisionists
always wanted their movement to be a big one, but shall not hesitate to do
as Gideon did in order to “purge our movement, whose strength is in its
revolutionary esprit, not in tactical compromise and combinations”.17
The idealisation of a violent act of a minority was praised in Ha-Àm
through literary means as well. In his short story about Rabbi John and
“Yabne and its Wise Men”, Uri’el Halperin showed how the rabbinical
method of adapting to Roman rule—which became the basis of Jewish
political practice since the first century ad—actually failed, since not only
the extremist warriors but the moderate Sanhedrin had to go into exile
too, finally. His conclusion was that the Rabbis were not better than the
Zealots, led by Abba Siqra.18
A certain kind of social Darwinism could be traced in a global context
as well as in Maximalist writings. “That involved cruelty, barbarism—but
at least an honest, frank one. It was a clear expression of the bestial instinct
of healthy man: to ‘remove’ the weak creatures who disturb him”, Yevin
wrote about Somerset Maugham’s play “Sacred Flame”.19 Yevin under-
stood Maugham’s attitude as justifying the killing of sick and invalid
people—and criticised its motives rather than its ends: while ancient
Spartans were also killing their invalid babies, they were not trying to
claim they are doing it for the benefit of the children, but rather of the
society. In Maugham’s play, on the contrary, the killing is “hypocritical”,
since it is claimed to be committed in order to “free one from his own
suffering”. Yevin criticised hypocrisy, not the killing itself.20
Back in the internal Hebrew political arena, Aḥime’ir took examples
from political movements he despised—in order to imitate not their
ideology but their methods. “Lenin’s Bolshevism, from its beginning,
was not a party in the regular sense of the term”, he wrote in his long
article “The Aims of Revisionist Zionism”. Bolshevism, according to
Aḥime’ir, was
174 D. TAMIR
an “Order”, whose members were tightly connected. Bolshevism did not

aspire to be a majority, but rather followed the minority… it was a united
movement, like Masonry in its beginning, in the 18th century.21
The spirit of a small yet determined political avant-garde resonated also in

the editorial of Ha-Àm’s 100th issue. “We also want to be loved, and our
voice to be heard within the hatred surrounding us”, it said. “But we shall
not sacrifice tomorrow’s victory for cheap popularity today. We do not ask
what will the masses think, for we do not court the people but rather work
in its service.”22
Ha-Àm was closed at the end of 1931, but was soon replaced by Ḥ azit
ha-Àm. As 5000 dunams of lands owned by the Jewish National Fund
were confiscated by the government, Ḥ azit ha-Àm had no doubt: the
Jewish Agency did not try to oppose the act, thus collaborating with the
British against Zionism. Furthermore, the event did not receive the appro-
priate attention by the other newspapers. Ḥ azit ha-Àm was raging, mak-
ing it an issue at the end of January and the beginning of February 1932.
To the claims that Zionist policy was conducted by representatives elected
by members of the Zionist organisation, the newspaper replied that
Yes—we are the representatives of the people. In vain will our adversaries
point to the number of votes, “only 10,000 out of so and so thousands”…
for we are the legal representatives of the millions, even if we did not receive
our mandate by the ballot or by an election campaign. Our mandate has a
different genealogy, more noble and considerable: we received the mandate
by the people’s tragedy, its furor and its hope; this mandate was imposed
upon us by the years of blood, shame and tears—from Hebron in 1929 to
the White Paper… This whole story of rage and pain is the one that gives us
the right to speak in the name of the entire people, even those who deny—
due to their fear—what they really think, thus speaking against us… we, the
“vociferous” furious, are representing the people—not those who blur and
try to tranquilize. For everybody—everybody, including those who are
silent and are afraid to speak because they worry for their bread, their job,
their public position—deep in their heart they are with us.23
The article’s closing remark left no room for doubt: “We are the only rep-
resentative of the people of Israel”.24
Ḥ azit ha-Àm claimed to be the voice of the whole community once
again after the quarrel at the opening ceremony of the Chair for
International Peace at the Hebrew University on Mount Scopus. The clear
demand that Magnes resign was presented as “The Community’s Demand”

on the newspaper’s front-page headline.25
A few weeks later, Yevin wrote that regarding the Bentwich event, the
press knows “very well that ‘the savage Revisionists’ have neither an army
nor a navy”, because the whole event was carried out by just 15 or 20
youngsters at the most. And still,
a handful of 15 youngsters, who insisted on protecting the people’s reputa-

tion, was so influential, that the whole anti-Zionist front, from the “Near
East” to the “Jüdische Rundschau”, was shocked. Our resistance movement
is very very [sic!] dangerous for the Sanbalats.26
After Aḥime’ir was jailed for the quarrel on Mount Scopus, Jabotinsky
praised him. “My aim is positive: a plea in favour of ‘Adventurism’,
defending something which is hated by all serious people, something
only young boys dream about”, the Revisionist leader wrote. One can-
not exactly define this thing, but one may name its identifying marks,
he asserted: “these marks are: first of all—an action made mostly by
individuals—of a single person on his own account and responsibility”,
for on a mass scale “it cannot be organised, or—at least—not often”.
Secondly, it is a way of action which entails danger, “having more
chances to fail than to succeed”.27 This is why “all the serious people
consider it always as foolish nonsense”, but Jabotinsky clearly wants “to
stand up for it”. At the beginning, “these would be very few people,
usually very young”, and the majority would defame them as “naughty
children” and “Avanturists”. But the people in Israel “should not
worry”, according to Jabotinsky, for “one by one you will join this new
path”. Abba Aḥime’ir is an example of such a positive “Adventurist”.
His fierce demonstrations against the census and against Bentwich,
which got him into prison more than once, made Jabotinsky call him
“our teacher and our master”.
Jabotinsky kept on expressing his support for the Maximalists during
that month. “With some feeling of helplessness I behold the efforts of this
tiny band” wrote Jabotinsky about the editorial board of Ḥ azit ha-Àm.
The public tends to ridicule it, labelling its insistence to spread the
Revisionist message as “boisterous”, demanding deeds and actions rather
than words. But the public, according to Jabotinsky,
176 D. TAMIR
forgets one thing: that speaking is also an action, maybe even more real than
all other actions. Cities were ruined and shall be ruined in the future as well,
but what some “boisterous” people were “shouting” in the desert thou-
sands of years ago is still vivid and active. The universe was created by a
word; by a word the world will be improved.28
While cautiously refraining from supporting explicitly their physical vio-

lent acts, Jabotinsky did show his consent to the idea that Aḥime’ir and his
fellows are a small avant-garde carrying out important work, comparable
with that of ancient prophets:
A newspaper is a great thing; no job is more exalted than that of the journal-
ist… the origins of the journalist’s trade are ancient and holy… Who were
the first who taught us always to interfere in others’ matters, and judge
publics and nations who never chose us to be their judges? The publicist’s
work is the heritage of Israel’s prophets.29
And indeed, the newspaper praised the politics of national selfishness.

“Washington, who is excessively wrapped in romance, was actually a very
realistic Yankee”, Aḥime’ir ruled:
People of the eighteenth century—the century of agnosticism and icono-

clasm—were not familiar with the mystique of fanaticism. Realist Washington
inspired future American history with the politics of national egoism, poli-
tics of “what do I care” in matters concerning another nation.30
From Washington’s policy, Yevin developed one to be invoked in Palestine.

“Zionism starts on the very day it begins to search for its justification
within itself, not in some kind of external ‘consent’ and approval of the
‘landowner’”, he asserted. “Zionism starts in that moment it recognises
itself without any need for external argumentation, by the sovereignty of
its idea; because only an idea which has a priori a royal crown in the hearts
of its bearers would ever reach a worldly, manifest, royal crown”.31 And
Zionism, Yevin thought, should be led not by the masses but by a minor-
ity. “Isn’t it a minority, a small and well-consolidated minority, knowing
what it is doing, which has carried out all the great things in world’s his-
tory?”, he asked. By parliamentary votes and majority decisions “one may
levy income tax or prohibit the drinking of wine”, but “states and peoples
were never created by votings in parliaments”.32
The critique of “small landowners” and the kind of “petty politics”

attributed to them was also shared by Abraham Stern. The emotions “of
the small landowner or petit bourgeois” who spares and pities his property
and “refuses to put it in danger through war” was the thing that “destroyed
both German social-democracy and petite-bourgeoise France”, he asserted.
This adherence to prosperity and a refusal to put one’s life in danger
is not the law of the Jungle. Kipling says that in the jungle there are sacred
laws kept among the animals, better than the [laws] prevailing among
humans. The global reality since the dawn of mankind is a reality of constant
struggle between one man and his fellow, strong and weak, old and young.
The stronger rules. Might is Right.33
By “might” Stern did not refer to economic resilience. “Undoubtedly,

neither settlement nor construction provide a steadfast basis for the peo-
ple’s right on its land or its reign upon it”, he argued. “The Indians were
sitting in north America and the Incas in its south and the Maoris in New
Zealand: they didn’t only cultivate their lands, but also controlled them
and established splendid civilizations.” Then, however, “foreigners arrived,
took them over, burned their cities and plundered everything”. Stern’s
lesson is clear, and formulated as an exact opposite to Mapay’s socialist
praxis: “construction and building are justified only when they are meant
for war and conquest”.34
Having placed his group in opposition to the socialist and liberal major-
ity (the one made of “constructionists” and “landowners”), Stern went
another step forward, disputing the very legitimacy of that majority. Under
the subtitle “present tactics” he wrote that
a movement which wishes to redeem the people must be free from the chains
of the community’s reality. It cannot and should not be dependent upon
temporary questions and [changing] location.
He further noted that one should “not aspire to seize the power in a dem-
ocratic way”.35 “One of two”, he concluded. “Either justice is needed, or
force is needed. If justice—than what authority did Àmaleq have? If
force—then there’s no need of justice. One has to create force.”36
178 D. TAMIR
Conclusion
Both parts of the ninth mobilising emotion can be found in the writings
of the Maximalists: the belief that a small, determined minority should
lead the people, and that it could do so without any legal restraints such as
social norms or laws. However, the degree to which this idea was imple-
mented varied: while Wolfgang von Weisl, for example, only implied it,
Abraham Stern extended it to violent underground activities.
Practically, the Maximalists were twice (and, in the case of Stern, thrice)
a minority: first, they believed to be a part of a small people in comparison
to other peoples (“Arabs”) and to the great British Empire. Secondly, they
were representing the Revisionists, a small political faction within the
Hebrew political community, carrying “the yoke of hatred and contempt”,
as Wolfgang von Weisl described it. Last but not least, Stern’s group
became even a smaller—and persecuted—group after splitting from the
Revisionist camp.
From an early stage in his career as a publicist, Aḥime’ir made the dis-
tinction between moral relations among human beings and political rela-
tions between societies, arguing that “politics” should not be mixed with
“ethics” or “aesthetics”. By this he made clear that political action should
not be bound to ethical rules (let alone aesthetic considerations). In a
similar vein, Wolfgang von Weisl worked towards guaranteeing “the vic-
tory of a strong radicalism”, without any democratic procedures or deci-
sions accepted by any majority.
As in other aspects reviewed in this work, here too Stern was simply
consistent, marching politically along the path projected by the aforemen-
tioned Maximalists. The mechanism behind his turning to active violence
was the simple rule of radicalisation: the direr the straits in which the
nation found itself and the wider the gap between dreams of revival and
actual political conditions, the more extreme are the means taken by the
political avant-garde which claims to remain true to the “pure” idea.
Parliamentarism and democracy were both perceived as obsolete rem-
nants of the nineteenth century, which was one of many equal individuals,
while the twentieth century was the century of masses and individual lead-
ers; but still, during the 1930s the Maximalists always tried to remain a
part of the Zionist political sphere—albeit an oppositional, rebellious one.
Thus, Joshua Yevin claimed, the ideas and initiatives which had been
“cooked” in the Revisionist laboratory, were later “stolen” by other par-
ties (an assumption which actually became the basis for another claim, that
the Revisionists were used by other Zionists).
What political system could suite the Hebrew nation in the

Maximalists’ opinion? Since the Maximalists did not get a hold of the
Revisionist movement altogether, their plans were phrased and pre-
sented mainly as a part of internal Revisionist arguments and disputes,
not as a wide, formal, public platform. It is possible, however, to dis-
cern some clear elements of their desired political system. First, a strong
executive, headed by a leader with very wide authorities (specifically,
the designated leader was Jabotinsky; after his death, some of his fol-
lowers saw Stern as the anticipated leader). Second and just as impor-
tant was the dissolving (or at least considerable weakening) of the
legislature, while internalising any possible differences of opinion into
the executive—where the aforementioned leader has the last and defini-
tive word. The Maximalists attempted to do this within the Revisionist
movement and failed: as a matter of fact, attempts to promote these
two elements were thwarted by Jabotinsky himself, who refused to
either become a dictator within his own movement or to abolish the
Revisionists’ elected bodies. Last but not least, on the economic sphere,
the Maximalists favoured a corporatist national economy, where—in
Fig. 10.1 Abba Aḥime’ir next to a wall with the inscription “do not take part in
the census!”, January 1931. Courtesy of the Jabotinsky Institute in Israel
180 D. TAMIR
order to support the national cause—disputes between workers and

employers should be dissolved by a central authoritative instance, not
by any strikes or other measures of workers’ organisation. On this issue
Jabotinsky was rather cooperative, but the popularity of the workers’
federation within the Hebrew community (the Histadrut) as well as the
relative strength of socialist parties within the Zionist association hin-
dered any such pro-corporatist achievement (Fig. 10.1).
Maximalists and activists, beginning with Aḥime’ir, continuously expe-
rienced a tension between the ideal of being a small political avant-garde
and the desire to become a leading, ruling group. This tension was severed
only by Stern, who was willing to become a total outcast and outlaw. On
the literary level, there was very little difference—if any—between the
Maximalists’ declaration that the Revisionist movement was the legal rep-
resentative of millions, although it was never elected, and Stern’s assertion
that a redemption movement must be free from the “chains of the
community’s reality”. Stern was just ready, amidst the storm of the Second
World War, to do what his Maximalist political predecessors were not.
* * *
Notes
1. Abba Aḥime’ir, “Southern Tirol”, Ha-‘Aretz, 13.12.1927. At the end of
the articles, the editors added a footnote distancing from the text, stating
that “this is the opinion of our sharp journalist”, not the opinion of the
newspaper.
2. Aḥime’ir, “Current Issues (From the Notebook of a Fascist): Regarding
the Arrival of our Duce”, Do’ar ha-Yom, 8.10.1928.
Mr. Glücksohn”, Do’ar ha-Yom, 4.11.1928. “Philisters” is used here as a
derogatory name for petit-bourgeois.
4. Von Weisl, “The Fear of Bravery”, Ha-Àm, 9.4.1931
5. Ibid. Among the moderates Von Weisl specifically names Grossmann and
Lichtheim, while calling his faction “radical”. In another place in this article
he refers to “evolutionary revisionism” versus “revolutionary revisionism”.
6. Ibid.
7. Brit ha-Biryonim, “Eye for Eye, Tooth for Tooth”, Ha-Biryon 5 (April
1931). An original is kept at the CZA. PR-3693. Cf. also Exodus 21.24.
8. Von Weisl, “The First Victories”, Ha-Àm, 24.5.1931
9. “List of Revisionist Candidates for the Zionist Congress”, Ha-‘Am,

24.5.1931.
10. Ḥ ayal ha-Àm (“Soldier of the People”), “The Elections to the Congress:
Victory of the Revisionists”, Ha-Àm, 27.5.1931.
11. Joshua Yevin, “Like the First Tablets”, Ha-Àm, 3.7.1931.
12. Ibid. All along the article, Yevin is using paraphrases to the language of the
book of Exodus.
13. Bar Giora (Abba Aḥime’ir), “When Ha-Àm Was Closed”, Ha-Àm,
7.7.1931.
14. All headlines and titles are from Ha-Àm, 14.7.1931.
15. Yevin, “For Rescuing Zionism”, Ha-Àm, 21.7.1931.
16. Ibid.
17. Ibid.
18. Uri’el Halperin, “The Scroll of the Zealots”, Ha-Àm, 22.7.1931.
19. Yevin, “Ha-Bimma on the Plain of Life”, Ha-Àm, 26.7.1931.
20. Ibid.
22. “People’s Soldier” (editorial), “100th Issue”, Ha-Àm, 7.8.1931.
23. Yevin, “We are the Representatives of the People”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm,
5.2.1932.
24. Ibid. Original emphasis.
25. “The Community’s Demand: Magnes—Resign!” (no author), Ḥ azit ha-
Àm, 19.2.1932.
26. Yevin, “We Shall Take Care for Ourselves, Jews”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 1.3.1932.
27. Jabotinsky, “On ‘Adventurism’”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 11.3.1932.
29. Ibid. In the same issue (on the same page, actually), was published for the
first time a hymn containing three strophes, which did not yet bear a name.
This song soon became the youth movement’s anthem. Z.J. (Ze’ev
Jabotinsky), “From Beytar’s Songs”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 22.3.1932.
30. Aḥime’ir, “Washington”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 22.3.1932 (this article had three
parts: the first appeared on 18.3.1932 and the last on 25.3.1932).
31. Yevin, “Our Simple Truth: We Begin from A”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 17.6.1932.
32. Yevin, “On the Sacredness of the Minority”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 30.8.1932.
33. Stern, draft in his notebook (probably written during 1941). CZA A
549\65-70. Rudyard Kipling’s poem “The Law of the Jungle” (from The
Jungle Book, first published 1894) refers to laws and rules among wolves.
While the comparison between men and wolves reminds of the Hobbes’s
usage of the phrase homo homini lupus, the poem also contains some sen-
tences preaching for fairness among animals; neither does Kipling mention
any “holy” laws. The last two sentences are brought in Aramaic (originally:
‫[ רבג המלאד לכ‬sic]) and in English (originally Might is Right).
182 D. TAMIR
549\65-70.
549\65–75. Emphasis in the original.
549\65-77.
CHAPTER 11
Conclusion: A Hebrew Fascist Movement

in Palestine
We have fully reviewed the nine mobilising emotions and those activists
whom we consider as standard-bearers of these emotions among the
Revisionist Zionists. We can now assess to what extent the writings of each
of these activists corresponded to the mobilising emotions. Table 11.1
summarises our presentation of the mobilising emotions in the writings of
the six activists.
The “cumulative sum” of their expression can give us a comprehensive
portrait of the fascist tendencies of this group. We can see that all six activ-
ists shared a feeling of a looming political crisis and took part in the cult of
a particular leader (be it Benito Mussolini, Ze’ev Jabotinsky or Abraham
Stern, as seen by himself and some of his disciples).
Most activists expressed a fear of social decline, a feeling of victimhood and
a desire for stronger social integration. Most of them glorified war and com-
bat and supported the right of a chosen group (sometimes a nation, often
their particular movement within that nation) to dominate its political sphere.
Some activists demonstrated more emotions than others. Ben Avi was the
“weakest” in this sense: in his writings one could trace only four of the mobil-
ising emotions.1 In Abraham Stern, in contrast, one may blatantly detect—
within a very short period of time—expressions of all nine emotions.
This list contains only the best-known public figures of the time who
overtly expressed their support first for the Fascist regime in Italy, then for
fascism as a political ideology overall and as a political system which might
suit the Hebrew nation as well. Distinct from each other as they were,

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-73679-2_11
184
D. TAMIR
Table 11.1 Nine emotions, six activists

Crisis Primacy of Victimhood Dread of Integration Leader’s Leader’s Glorification of Right of
the group decline cult instincts violence the chosen
Ben Abi ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓
Aḥime’ir ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓
Von Weisl ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓
Grünberg ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓
Yevin ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓
Stern ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓
CONCLUSION: A HEBREW FASCIST MOVEMENT IN PALESTINE 185
these figures did not live in a political void or operated alone. Although no
formal fascist party was established in Palestine, these activists did create
together a political-intellectual-social network. The central part of the
relations and the contacts within the network is portrayed in Fig. 11.1.
Naturally, there is a quantitative and a qualitative imbalance among the
various figures mentioned in this work. Quantitatively, much more mate-
rial of Aḥime’ir is available than of Stern, for example—be it just because
the former earned his bread as a journalist and an editor, let alone the fact
that the latter’s life was considerably shorter. Qualitatively, Aḥime’ir and
Yevin wrote a lot of journalistic material with clear statements, and adhered
to their extreme views for a longer time than did Ben Avi, for example.
Others—like Grünberg and Stern—stuck to their extreme views but wrote
less, or in a different genre (i.e. poetry rather than detailed newspaper
articles). Still another group comprises those who wrote a great deal, but
distanced themselves gradually from the clear Maximalist and pro-fascist
views they held: such are Ben Avi and Von Weisl, who either moderated
their political views and plans or left the Revisionist movement. All of
these persons, however, contributed their part—major or minor—to the
intricate web of Hebrew fascism in Palestine during the inter-war period.
Germany BUF Italy
Ben Abi
Jabotinsky Do'ar ha-Jom
Stern
Von Weisl Yevin Grünberg Aḥime'ir
Ḥazit ha-'Am Brit ha-Birjonim
Fig. 11.1 The core of the fascist network. Blue persons, gray journals, green
international affiliates. Straight lines mark direct working contacts, curved lines
mark remote or weak contacts
186 D. TAMIR
A bothering question—mentioned already at the introduction to this

book—is whether Maximalist Revisionists indeed supported fascism as a
political ideology, or just expressed fondness towards it as a tactical method
of approaching Italy, whose international interests were perceived as a pos-
sible counterweight to those of Britain. In this respect, one should remem-
ber that European fascist regimes had an influence exceeding beyond the
immediate political sphere of their respective states, as they curved the
space of inter-war politics around them away from liberal democracy. In
other words: these regimes gave followers in other countries not only
inspiration, but also a certain level of political legitimacy.2
Curiously, the difference between autochthonic, ideological fascism
and anti-British and pro-Italian sentiments ran partially in parallel to the
division between those Revisionists and sympathisers of Jabotinsky who
emigrated to Palestine, and those who were born there or at least grew up
there. To some extent these were rather the immigrants—Von Weisl,
Yevin, Aḥime’ir, Yevin—who tended more towards developing genuine
fascism, while native Ben Avi was more of a “practical” pro-Italianist. This
should not surprise us, as the immigrants were reared in Europe and went
through experiences similar to those that had formed other European
contemporaries: Wolfgang von Weisl’s military service during the First
World War and Abba Aḥime’ir’s occupation with Spengler’s historiosophy
are two examples of this. Those reared in Palestine, on the other hand,
usually saw their main aim in the native national struggle, which made
them seek Italian support in their anti-British contest: Ben Avi’s admira-
tion of Mussolini, which was a part of his admiration of Italian nationalism
in general, is an example of this. Stern is a special case (and will be dis-
cussed below).
However, the tendency to emulate fascist Italy had both practical rea-
sons and ideological motives. Practically, Italy, as a rival of Britain in the
Mediterranean, was seen as a possible ally in the battle against the British
mandate. Ideologically, fascism was perceived as a method to strengthen
genuine national revival.
These two tendencies, one should say, were not unconditionally inter-
twined: Jabotinsky, for instance, saw Italy as a political ally, but objected to
the fascist tendencies within his movement. Revisionist Beytar students in
Civitavecchia were not severely indoctrinated by fascism. On the other
hand, others, like Von Weisl and Grünberg, saw Italy as a role model but
did not necessarily seek direct alliance with it.
Yet, more often than not, the search for a practical ally and the admira-
tion of fascist ideology were tightly bound. An example of such a mixed
practical and ideological admiration of Italian fascism can be found in
Aḥime’ir’s writings. In May 1931, he used the term “Rome and Jerusalem”
in order to symbolise not a contradiction but a similarity of interests and
ideologies. Seeing Jerusalem as a symbol of Judaism and Rome as one of
Christianity, Aḥime’ir asserted that “modern antisemitism fights against
Rome and Jerusalem alike”. In his view, three cities were fighting against
Jerusalem at that time: Moscow, Mecca and London. Moscow and its
socialism was the most dangerous, followed by Mecca as a symbol of
Islamic political ideology. The “rulers of contemporary London”, how-
ever, “were educated by books full of hatred towards Jerusalem and Rome,
and love towards Mecca”.3 Aḥime’ir claimed that
considering our defeats and disappointments of Moscow, Mecca and

London, the time has come to pay our attention to “Rome”. Rome of the
last ten years showed us an example for curing the illness of Socialism: it
raised a banner now followed by many. One does not have to be a fascist in
order to agree that the Italian Fascism succeeded in cleaning the air in the
whole West from faulty social assumptions, but this is not the main point.
Rome and Jerusalem symbolize two ancient peoples, that of Italy and that
of Judea, the two proletarian peoples (although not equally), the two people
which hang their hopes on migration, for whom migration is a question of
life and death: in Italy there are a few millions of redundant Italians, and the
whole people of Judea is redundant in Europe.4
His conclusion is that in spite of past suspicions and bad eyes between
Jerusalem and Rome, one should “dissolve this fog, for our mutual
benefit”.
A review of Kolitz’s biography of Mussolini, written by Šalom Rosenfeld
and published in Ha-Yarden, went in a similar vein. That biography,
Rosenfeld asserted, reflected not only affection towards Italy as a political
opponent of Britain, but more than that: support of the person himself.5
Fascism became a curse, according to Rosenfeld, a filthy word of defama-
tion. But “are we really allowed to reject just like that, single-handedly,
this entire doctrine and its creator without learning and knowing it first?
It has so many healthy and reasonable elements!” The reader of that book,
Rosenfeld argued, will be like a child who sees a policeman in civil clothes
for the first time, learning that the policeman is not a bad person but a
human being. “Day and night we are fed with the idea that fascism is false
188 D. TAMIR
and impure, and Mussolini is ‘the policeman’—and suddenly you get

closely acquainted with the policeman, in his civil clothes—like he really
is—and many things become clear and understandable.” Indeed, “the
author of this article had found in this book some sentences and thoughts
he dislikes”, but is nonetheless happy for this opportunity to learn about a
new movement. One should, Rosenfeld wrote, investigate fascism “the
same way one investigates other movements”.6
That book was probably the first monograph about fascism to be pub-
lished in Hebrew, but intellectuals and scholars in Palestine were fluent in
German, Italian, French and English. They maintained constant contact
with Italy and other European centres. Even if we attribute the admiration
of fascism in the beginning of the 1920s to a common and natural bewilder-
ment when encountering new and yet unknown things, the appreciation
thereof in the mid-1930s was not due to any incidental surprise or tempo-
rary excitement. The Hebrew right in the 1930s already knew quite well
what fascism—its Italian version, at least—was all about. By the time the
book and the review were written, in 1936—14 years after the “March on
Rome” and more than a decade after Mussolini took over the entire political
system in Italy, and considering the close commercial, cultural and academic
relations between Palestine and Italy, the Hebrew public—the educated
parts thereof, at the very least—was well acquainted with fascism.
To be sure, not only Revisionists have expressed fondness of Mussolini,
affinity towards Italy and—to a smaller extent—support for Italian Fascism.
“Mussolini is undoubtedly the most famous personality in the world”, said
Naḥum Sokolow, chairperson of the Zionist Organisation’s central com-
mittee in an interview he gave to an Italian newspaper that was translated
and cited quite broadly in Ha-‘Aretz in 1927. Sokolow opined that
Mussolini still hadn’t received “a proper literary appreciation by the great
writers abroad”, hence everything written about him thus far was biased.
Referring directly to one of Fascism’s basic characteristics, Sokolow
claimed that “by his romantic emotion”, Mussolini “is the symbol of
nationalism, and as such he understands the secret of Israel’s revival”.7
Sokolow referred not only to Mussolini, but to the Fascist movement
as well, arguing that
Fascism gained bad publicity from Italian writers abroad… the Fascists
didn’t do much in order to explain [themselves] and deny this [bad public-
ity]. The question of parliamentarism and the way it was solved by fascism,
interests the entire world. I deny [the assumption] that Zionsim hates
Fascism. We are only enemies of the Antisemites”.8
Support for fascism, hence, was not a secret—even without Italy, and
purely on a comparative basis. Another clear example thereof was provided
five years later by Eliyahu Cohen, Aḥime’ir’s lawyer. “Had it not been for
Hitler’s antisemitism”, he said in court in one of his client’s trials, “we
would not have opposed his ideology. Hitler saved Germany.”9
Indeed, something that we nowadays more or less identify generically
with fascism came to be perceived by a large number of sympathetic con-
temporaries as an international, epoch-defining force in the inter-war
period after the consolidation of Mussolini’s and Hitler’s regimes. Whether
the two regimes met or not the benchmarks of subsequent political defini-
tions and models of “fascism” matters in this aspect less than what con-
temporary actors and observers saw or wanted to see in them. Altogether,
a broad distinction was increasingly operative on the level of perception in
the inter-war years, pitting Italy and National Socialist Germany against
both liberal democracies and the Soviet Union—and admittedly against
liberalism and communism in general.10
Another point which should be addressed is the one of change within
the movement, which Paxton calls “the notorious instability of fascist
membership”: people who were devoted fascists at one stage of their life
were not fascist any more in a later stage, and vice versa.11 This phenome-
non is just as valid for Hebrew fascism in Palestine during the examined
period (from the March on Rome in 1922 to the murder of Abraham
Stern in 1942). Aḥime’ir’s move from moderate socialism to liberalism to
fascism provides us with an example of movement in one direction;
Wolfgang von Weisl, who became a moderate nationalist and later joined
liberal circles can serve as an example of the opposite.
“We need strict uniformity within the leadership” which should be
“solely in the hands of Jabotinsky”, Von Weisl argued in September
1932.12 At the same time, he presented himself as “a religious man, cher-
ishing the commandments of the Bible”.13 Three years later, however, he
tried to contact the British Union of Fascists in order to forge a political
alliance; in 1940, his voice was already one of the loudest calling for con-
scription to the British military to fighting against the Axis. Later, during
the 1950s, the once uncompromising nationalist fighter left the Ḥ erut
party because he supported the compensations agreement with Adenauer’s
Germany, an agreement Menaḥem Begin rejected totally. Politically
involved until his last day, Von Weisl then joined the General Zionists.14 As
David Roberts suggests, fascism—an uncertain open-ended dynamic with
190 D. TAMIR
no fixed essence—could only have been a moving object of attraction for

outsiders. There was always scope for outsiders to see in fascism what they
wanted to see and to take what they wanted to take from it.15
Like his fellow activists who were mentioned in this work, Von Weisl
was a member of a cohort of European political activists who came of age
at a specific moment of European history. This was a generation who sur-
vived the Great War just to find out it had been betrayed. Coming out of
the trenches, it discovered, in the words of Emilio Gentile, that “the
European man, the man of modernity, on the very moment of apotheosis
of his civilisation, turned into a barbarian capable of inhumane
ferocity”.16
The disappointment that followed the hopes cultivated by modernity,
liberalism and progress was evident in Palestine, too. “By chance, Zionism
came to the world during the blossom time of one of the shallowest ideas
ever to rule the world—the idea of progressive liberalism… these ideas of
progressive liberalism were part and parcel of a belief that the world is
progressing: slowly and gradually, but progressing”, wrote Joshua Yevin,
another war veteran, who witnessed the Great War as a physician in the
Russian army. That war, then,
buried the progressive-liberal idea eternally, under the piles of its ten million
casualties and the horrors of cities destroyed by fire and sword. It turned
out, that the world is not at all advancing towards the prevalence of justice.
The number of atrocities and acts of horror committed by the strong person
upon the weaker did not decrease, but even increased with the world’s tech-
nical progress.17
Scarred, horrified and betrayed by the political establishments who had

sent them to the battlefields, young people such as Yevin and Von Weisl
were the building blocks of fascist movements all around Europe. Naturally,
not all veterans became fascists; but most fascist movements in inter-war
Europe relied significantly upon members of that generation.
* * *
Special referral should be made to Abraham Stern, who became—as shown

in Table 11.1—the fullest proponent of Hebrew fascism. Although Stern
was a great admirer of the founder of the Hebrew Battalions during the
First World War, he never became a member either of the Revisionist party
nor of the Beytar youth movement. The main bone of contention between
Stern and Jabotinsky was the attitude towards active violence. Jabotinsky
supported the founding of a national armed force, but as a part of a wider
political establishment, under the control and the rule of the political
establishment. Stern, on the other hand, opined that in an anti-colonial
war, “a fighting organisation should be the sovereign bearer of the libera-
tion movement, determine the political path, achieve the necessary means
and conduct the war—totally by itself”.
I did not find any passage proving that Stern found justification for ter-
rorism directly in Mazzini. However, the latter’s postulation that “in order
to achieve the liberation of the homeland, means which are considered as
barbaric during regular wars must also be used in order to frighten and
destroy the enemy”18 evidently inspired the NMO’s activities. The asser-
tion that “the birth of every nation was always bloody”19 was omnipresent
in Stern’s writings.
On the (relatively) practical level, Stern and his colleagues wrote a draft
for a treaty with Italy, in September 1940. Although the draft—which
received the name “The Jerusalem Treaty”—was probably never seen by
any Italian representative, it shows the direction in which the NMO in
Israel wanted to go.20 According to the proposed treaty, the Italian gov-
ernment was to help the NMO in Israel establish an armed military; assist
it in its campaign to defeat the British army in Palestine; help it establish a
Hebrew state and eliminate the Jewish diaspora by evacuating Jews to the
“Hebrew Fatherland”; ensure the support of its allies—that is, Germany
(and, theoretically, Japan)—and help the NMO in Israel establish diplo-
matic relations with them. The NMO in Israel itself gave up any demand
for building an independent navy or air force; promised to leave the city of
Haifa and its harbour to be an Italian enclave, and the Old City of
Jerusalem be assigned to the Vatican; obligated itself to complete submis-
sion of its foreign policy to that of Italy; promised to grant Italian compa-
nies full exclusivity on foreign investments and finally committed itself to
establishing a corporatist regime in the future Hebrew state.
This planned “Jerusalem Treaty” with Italy preceded Lubenczik’s mis-
sion to Beirut (described in the Introduction) by three months; hence the
proposed treaty between Stern’s group and Germany was not only an
opportunistic slip: to the German authorities the group suggested “edu-
cating and organising the Jewish manpower of Europe”, with the aim of
wresting Palestine from the British Empire.
192 D. TAMIR
As a matter of fact, the unsuccessful attempts to ally with Italy and

Germany were the merging of the two streams among Hebrew sympathis-
ers of fascism: autochthonic fascists who sought to establish an indepen-
dent nation state, and the admirers of fascism as a political idea. With these
proposed treaties, the merging of autochthonic Hebrew fascism and anti-
British liberating nationalism was complete. The NMO in Israel clearly
presented itself not only as an integrationalist movement, but also as one
“closely related with the totalitarian movements of Europe”:
The NMO in Israel is closely related with the totalitarian movements of Europe
in its world view and structure. The fitness of the NMO to fight cannot be
paralysed or seriously weakened, either by the reckless defensive measures of
the Arabs and the British administration nor by the Jewish socialists.21
Here, too, Stern was simply consistent with the line drawn before him.
The outbreak of the Second World War created a political constellation in
which these two streams could merge into one. In this case, it was not only
long adored Mussolini’s Italy, but Nazi Germany as well who became the
practical allies of Hebrew nationalist liberty fighters in their battle against
the British Empire.
As mentioned before, the attempt to ally with Nazi Germany did not
bear fruit.22 With Stern dead and all other leaders in prison, the NMO in
Israel actually ceased to exist.23 It was only about a year later, after some
leaders escaped from prison in September 1942, that the group managed
to reorganise, now under the name “Israel’s Liberty Fighters”. This group,
headed by Nathan Yellin-Mor, Israel Eldad and Isaac Šamir, adopted
Stern’s figure as a symbol; its ideology and political practice, however,
took a different course.
Altogether, it is interesting to note that in his last years Stern made yet
another leap not only to the extreme part of the Zionist camp, but out of
it. “A huge difference lies between the Zionists’ view and the view we
hold”, he wrote during his terminal years.24 The important thing here is
not the exact difference between the different political views (referring to
the exact validity of the Mandate regime and various international char-
ters), but rather the explicit declaration by Stern that his group was no
longer a part of any Zionist political community, as demonstrated by his
naming “the Zionists” on one hand and “we” on the other.25
* * *
How important politically was the Hebrew fascism, which not only was far
away from taking the power in Palestine, but hardly became a significant
political player beyond the circles of the Revisionist movement? A com-
parison with France might be useful here. As Zeev Sternhell shows, the
writings of Pierre Andreu and his companions in Combat had a form of
fascism already fully developed but subtle, cultured and relatively sophisti-
cated, manifesting an ordered, elegant intellectual quality (to a degree
“which caused some authorities to doubt if this particular school of
thought was authentically fascist”). But this “salon fascism” was also a fas-
cism—of people “who do not die the violent death of street agitators, but
end their days as members of the Académie Française”. Nonetheless, their
political stance was certainly fascist.26
Like other generic fascisms, Hebrew fascism had its unique, distinctive
characteristics. To name some of them: it emerged in a society under colo-
nial rule, its standard bearers were both native born nationalists and
European immigrants, and it never went beyond the initial stage of form-
ing a small political movement. At the same time, this Hebrew fascist
movement had many similarities with other contemporary fascist
movements—a fact which clearly enables us to examine and comprehend
it within a comparative scientific framework.
For obvious reasons, fascism has quite a bad reputation today. Some
may argue that pointing out the existence of Hebrew fascism is an attempt
to use this bad reputation in order to slander and defame. Referring to
such accusations, one should note three things. First, that containing
Hebrew fascism within a certain political group and limiting its existence
to a precise period of time, demonstrates that not all Revisionists were
fascists. Furthermore: some of those Revisionist activists who embraced
fascism at a certain point, also changed their opinions and attitudes later
on. Future critical analysis of Zionism in general and Revisionism particu-
larly would have to find other, more accurate and sustainable frames and
contexts than the simple labelling of an entire movement as “fascist”.
Secondly, acknowledging the existence of a fascist movement within
the Hebrew society of the period under review provides us with yet
another proof that the Hebrew society of that time was not necessarily
different from other contemporary societies in its formation and political
development. Fascists can be seen as political agents looking for new
modes of history making, beyond those used and practised by the liberal
mainstream.27 In contrast to prevailing tendencies to research it from ide-
ological points of view (be it “pro-”, “anti-” or “post-”), Hebrew history
194 D. TAMIR
in Palestine should be referred to as such, just like any other local history.
Such historical meticulousness should lead us to a better understanding of
our political past, free—as far as possible—of ideological disruptions.
Last but not least, in the same way that they do not appear out of
nowhere, political movements usually also do not just evaporate over-
night. Hebrew fascism, in the form examined and described in this work,
ceased to exist in 1942. But what happened to this political-ideological
current? Almost two decades ago, Stanley Payne named the Middle East
as one of the world’s regions in which one may concentrate in order to
support functional analogues for comparative research—as fascism research
in this part of the world is still modest in scope.28 Various political winds
have been blowing in Israel during the last few years, while this work was
being written. Some political analysts claim that a new wave of fascism is
gaining power within Israeli society. While these claims might be true,
more often than not the term “fascist” is used semi-automatically, without
proper differentiation and attention. Further examination of other,
younger political groups in Israel—from after the period examined in this
work until nowadays—might prove a good direction for further research.
Fascism’s dormant legacy is still with us; does this legacy take new, active
manifestations?
Dan Tamir
Tel Aviv, March 2018
Notes
1. A more thorough survey of all of Ben Avi’s writings might reveal more
expressions of the other five emotions. However, this work focused on
those of his publications which were directly related to the Revisionist
party.
2. Roger Griffin, “Foreword: Il ventennio parafascista? The Past and Future
of a Neologism in Comparative Fascist Studies”, in António Costa Pinto
and Aristotle Kallis (eds.), Rethinking Fascism and Dictatorship in Europe
(Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014), pp. viii–xix. Griffin suggests the
word “parafascism” as a useful term for designating certain regimes and
political forces in inter-war Europe.
3. Abba Aḥime’ir’, “Rome and Jerusalem”, Ha-Àm, 8.5.1931.
4. Ibid.
5. Šalom Rosenfeld, “Mussolini—With the Publication of the Book by Zwi
Kolitz”, Ha-Yarden, 20.11.1936.
6. Ibid.
7. Isaac Bichowski, “Sokolow on Fascism and Zionism (a Letter from Italy)”,

Ha-‘Aretz, 4.11.1927.
8. Ibid. The Interview was taken from an Italian newspaper mentioned only
by its initials, “g.d.l”.
9. “A Fair End to the ‘Preaching of Peace’ by Magnes and Bentwich”, Ḥ azit
ha-Àm, 6.5.1932.
10. António Costa Pinto and Aristotle Kallis, “Introduction”, in António
Costa Pinto and Aristotle Kallis (eds.), Rethinking Fascism and Dictatorship
in Europe (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014), pp. 1–10.
11. Robert O. Paxton, The Anatomy of Fascism (New York: Knopf, 2004),
p. 210.
12. Wolfgang von Weisl, “The Speech of Dr. Von Weisl”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm,
13.9.1932.
13. Von Weisl, “JNF and Revisionist Zionism”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm, 19.8.1932.
14. Ḥ abib Knaàn, “The Physician and the Writer: A Cannon Man and a
Politician”, Ha-‘Aretz, one week after Von Weisl’s death. A copy kept at
CZA AK-644.
15. David D. Roberts, “Fascism and the Framework for Interactive Political
Innovation during the Era of the Two World Wars”, in António Costa
Pinto and Aristotle Kallis (eds.), Rethinking Fascism and Dictatorship in
Europe (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014), pp. 42–66.
16. Emilio Gentile, L’apocalisse della modernità: La Grande Guerra per l‘uomo
nuovo (Milano: Mondadori, 2008), p. 19. Some scholars, however, see the
connection between the war generation and the violent political radicalisa-
tion of Inter-war Europe as less straightforward. See Mark Roseman, “War
and the People: The Social Impact of Total War”, in Charles Townshend
(ed.), The Oxford History of Modern War (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2005) pp. 280–302.
17. Joshua Yevin, “Our Simple Truth: We Begin from A”, Ḥ azit ha-Àm,
17.6.1932.
18. Mazzini’s declaration is quoted by Eugenio di Rienzo, “Il Mazzini ter-
rorista”, Nuova Rivista Storica, 9.10.2010. Di Rienzo also quotes
Garibaldi’s bitter description of Mazzini as “a person who always talks
about the people, but doesn’t know it”. The social and political isolation
of Stern’s group during his last months could imply that he also suffered
from a similar failure.
19. Ibid.
20. “The Jerusalem Treaty 1940”, JA K-5/4/1.
21. “Grundlage des Vorschlages der Nationalen Militärischen Organisation in
Deutschlands”, JA K-5/4/1.
196 D. TAMIR
22. The NMO’s emissary, Naftali Lubecnzik, was caught by British intelli-
gence, arrested and jailed in a detention camp in Western Africa, where he
died a few months later from a stomach infection. See Ḥ abib Knaàn, “A
Meeting in Beirut” [“Pgiša be-Beirut”], Ha-‘Aretz, 27.3.1970; Šlomo
Šamgar, “When the Reich’s Representative in Beirut Met a ‘Jewish
Terrorist from Palestine’”, Yediòt Aḥaronot, 15.7.1983.
(London: Frank Cass, 1995), p. 105.
24. Stern, a note in his notebook. CZA A 549\18–52.
25. Stern explained: “while they saw the charter as everything… we see the
[Balfour] declaration and the Mandate as nothing more than a diplomatic
achievement”. The word “they” is underlined in the original.
26. Zeev Sternhell, Neither Right nor Left: Fascist Ideology in France. Translated
from French by David Maisel (Berkeley: University of California Press,
1986), p. 8.
27. Roger Griffin and David D. Roberts, “Overtures of Reconciliation in a
Forgotten Conflict”, European Journal of Political Theory 11 (2012),
pp. 354–361.
28. Stanley G. Payne, “Historical Fascism and the Radical Right”, Journal of
Contemporary History 35 (2000), pp. 109–118. The other regions Payne
suggests are Eastern Europe, Africa and Asia.
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Index1
A 163n5, 163n6, 164n10, 164n11,

Agassi, Joseph, 27n79 164n14, 164n15, 164n16,
Aḥime’ir, Abba, 10–13, 32–35, 38n6, 164n24, 165n44, 165n45,
38n7, 39n10, 42, 43, 45, 49–51, 166n59, 167n63, 167n64,
54–56, 57n6, 57n8, 59n33, 167n72, 167n73, 169–173, 175,
59n38, 59n39, 60n57, 61–65, 176, 178–180, 180n1, 180n2,
67, 68, 68n1, 69n2, 69n3, 69n8, 180n3, 181n13, 181n21,
69n9, 69n11, 69n13, 71, 72, 181n30, 185–187, 189, 194n3
74–77, 80, 82n2, 82n5, 83n9, Aḥime’ir, Joseph, 39n11, 39n13,
83n12, 84n22, 84n29, 86, 87, 82n7, 138n29, 166n47
94, 95, 96n2, 97n4, 98n28, Amir, Aharon, 26n75
98n34, 98n35, 98n36, 100–104, Arlosoroff, Ḥ ayim, 33, 34, 52,
107, 108, 110, 112–114, 115n4, 60n49, 78, 84n29,
115n9, 115n16, 116n29, 128, 172
116n34, 117n43, 121–123, Asheri, Maia, 21n14, 21n15, 98n28
125–127, 129, 135, 137n8,
137n14, 138n18, 138n19,
139n32, 139n36, 139n39, B
139n40, 139n43, 140n46, Bach, Maurizio, 20n8
140n50, 143–147, 153, 154, Beirut, 1–20, 191
156–161, 163, 163n1, 163n3, Bell, J. Bowyer, 24n49
Note: Page number followed by ‘n’ refer to notes.

1

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-73679-2
206 INDEX
Ben Abram, Baruk, 139n41 D

Ben-Avi, Itamar, 12, 25n62, 25n63, Dabar, 32, 44, 100, 104, 115n3,
29–38, 38n1, 38n2, 38n4, 116n26, 155, 163n4
41–43, 54, 55, 57n1, 85, 95, de Felice, Renzo, 4, 21n18
101, 113, 115n8, 116n26, Disraeli, Benjamin, 57n8, 104, 114
119–123, 134, 135, 137n1, Do’ar ha-Yom, 12, 30, 31, 35, 42–44,
137n4, 137n9, 137n12, 147, 55, 61, 68n1, 71, 80, 82n2, 86,
170, 183, 185, 186, 194n1 99, 100, 113, 116n26, 119–121,
Ben-Tor, Nechemia, 70n24 137n1, 170, 172
Berlin, 1, 29, 34, 35, 117n42,
144, 148
Bey, Essad, 97n19 E
Beytar, 15, 62, 63, 68, 70n24, 77, Eatwell, Roger, 5, 7, 22n29, 22n30
101, 102, 122, 140n57, 143, Economy/economic, 2, 32, 34, 37,
149, 186, 191 42, 47, 55, 56, 66, 88, 102, 103,
Bilski Ben-Hur, Raphaella, 24n47 158, 177, 179
Blair Brysac, Shareen, 23n43 Egypt, 30, 53, 91, 105, 144, 171
Breuer, Stefan, 20n8 Eldad, Israel, 39n16, 39n21,
Brit ha-Biryonim, 13, 33–35, 45, 54, 118n59, 192
60n52, 63, 66–68, 72, 75, 83n9, Elon, Amos, 26n72
87, 95, 97n7, 114, 115n17, 128, Even-Zohar, Itamar, 26n70
129, 148, 156, 158, 161, Evron, Boas, 26n76
164n22, 164n23, 166n47, 180n7
Brit Šalom, 33, 50, 89, 90, 97n10,
105, 108, 109, 138n24, 155, F
166n58 Fredrickson, George, 18, 27n88
Frei, Norbert, 20n2
C
Carlyle, Thomas, 93, 94, 98n35 G
Communist/communism, 4, 12, Gentile, Emilio, 22n24, 190, 195n16
41, 51, 54, 55, 65, 68, 76, Griffin, Roger, 5, 7, 12, 21n12,
88–91, 95, 100, 101, 107, 21n20, 21n22, 22n25, 22n26,
113, 120, 124, 135, 143, 22n27, 22n28, 23n38, 23n40,
144, 147, 151, 153, 189 25n58, 194n2, 196n27
Conze, Eckart, 20n2 Grossmann, Meïr, 59n34, 69n17, 126,
Corporatist/corporatism, 10, 102, 139n37, 180n5
179, 191 Grünberg, Uri Zwi, 13, 33–35, 37,
Costa Pinto, António, 6, 22n28, 45, 48, 49, 55, 59n31, 59n35,
22n30, 22n32, 22n33, 194n2, 59n39, 63, 72, 80, 82n7, 83n9,
195n10, 195n15 87, 89, 90, 95, 97n16, 107, 113,
Cüppers, Martin, 27n90 125, 135, 138n29, 147, 150,
INDEX
207
151, 161, 163, 165n30, 165n33, J

165n45, 167n71, 171, 185, 186 Jabotinsky, Ze’ev, 9, 10, 12–14, 16,
Gurevicz, Adolf (Beliac, G., Ḥ oron, 20n3, 23–24n44, 24n46, 24n47,
A. G.), 26n75, 37, 118n52 25n61, 26n73, 30–33, 43, 46,
48, 49, 53, 54, 59n35, 60n51,
60n53, 60n55, 60n57, 63,
H 70n24, 78, 79, 81, 82n6, 100,
Ha-‘Am, 31, 34, 35, 43–45, 47–49, 101, 105, 116n31, 121–129,
51, 52, 58n25, 59n34, 59n35, 134–136, 137n10, 138n16,
62, 64, 83n9, 87–94, 97n10, 138n19, 139n30, 139n35,
98n28, 103–106, 114, 115n14, 139n43, 139n45, 147, 149, 153,
116n19, 147, 148, 152, 154, 156, 157, 162, 166n61, 166n62,
155, 165n30, 170, 171, 173, 174 167n63, 167n77, 170–172, 175,
Ha-‘Aretz, 26n78, 32, 44, 61, 100, 176, 179, 181n27, 183, 186,
104, 115n3, 116n26, 145, 146, 189, 191
155, 163n4, 169, 170, 188 Jerusalem, 29–31, 33, 35, 36, 39n20,
Ha-Bimma, 91 44, 48, 53, 71, 76, 80, 82n2,
Ha-Biryon, 45, 63 82n4, 89, 90, 94, 108, 117n40,
Ha-Histadrut, 102, 179 127, 129, 132, 137n10, 138n24,
Haifa, 60n54, 76, 117n40, 191 150, 152, 156, 157, 167n64,
Halperin, Uri’el (Ratosh, Jonathan), 187, 191
37, 40n22, 173, 181n18
Ha-Mašqif, 31, 33, 98n39, 135
Ha-Òlam, 103, 104 K
Ha-Po’el ha-Tza‘ir, 12, 32, 33, 35, Kallis, Aristotle, 6, 22n28, 22n33,
104, 121, 137n8 22n34, 194n2, 195n10, 195n15
Ha-Tzfira, 103 Kaplan, Eran, 10–12, 17, 24n54
Ḥ ayal ha-‘Am, 97n14, 116n22, Katz, Doris, 168n83
181n10 Katz, Shmuel, 24n44
Hayes, Peter, 20n2 Kolitz, Zwi, 27n86, 54, 60n58, 66,
Ḥ azit ha-‘Am, 12, 13, 33–35, 52–54, 69n19, 78, 79, 84n30, 111,
60n53, 65–67, 75–77, 82n6, 117n44, 117n46, 117n47, 130,
83n16, 92, 93, 108–110, 126, 131, 135, 140n47, 140n48,
128, 129, 155–158, 167n63, 140n49, 140n53, 160, 167n74,
167n64, 167n69, 174, 175 167n78, 187, 194n5
Ha-Zwi, 29
Heller, Joseph, 10, 20n4, 24n48,
24n53, 40n23, 118n59, 196n23 L
Helman, Anat, 23n42 Laqueur, Walter, 82n8
Hitler, Adolf, 1, 17, 20n8, 115n14, Larsen, Stein Ugelvik, 21n21, 24n48,
127–129, 135, 189 27n89
Hope-Simpson committee, 43, 84n34 London, 15, 43, 52, 139n35, 148, 187
report, 59n48, 84n34 Lubenczik, Naftali, 1, 2, 191
208 INDEX
M 23n41, 27n91, 49, 58n20,

Magnes, Judah L., 75, 76, 108, 109, 161, 189, 195n11
117n40, 124, 138n24, 138n25, Payne, Stanley George, 2, 11, 17,
155–157, 167n64, 175, 195n9 18, 20n5, 25n57, 27n83,
Mallmann, Klaus-Michael, 27n90 194, 196n28
Mann, Michael, 6, 22n31 Po‘aley Zion, 101, 144, 145,
Mapay, 43, 47, 50, 73, 89, 105, 163n6
116n26, 154, 177 Poland, 15, 33, 35–37, 69n4, 77,
Ma’znayim, 155 140n57, 158
Meyer, Karl, 23n43
Michels, Robert, 121, 137n7
Migdalor, 59n44, 59n45, 59n46, Q
98n29, 116n31, 116n32, Qeren ha-Yesod, 148
139n33, 166n48
Mišmar ha-‘Umma, 59n44, 166n50,
166n51 R
Moos, Carlo, 27n82, 27n84, 27n85, Revisionist, Association; Revisionism,
27n87 11, 50, 66, 68, 73, 87, 107, 147,
Morris, Benny, 168n83 172, 193
Moscow, 34, 42, 84n27, 90, 91, 187 Roberts, David D., 2, 4, 20n6, 21n17,
Mosley, Oswald, 47, 58n25 189, 195n15, 196n27
Mussolini, Benito, 17, 18, 20n8, 41, Rome, 12, 15, 41, 42, 72, 99, 100,
54, 66, 78, 79, 99, 110–112, 119, 120, 127, 148, 159,
119–124, 126, 127, 130, 131, 187, 189
134–136, 152, 160, 165n42, Russia, 21n20, 32, 42, 50, 56, 76,
183, 186–189, 192 90, 100, 158
N S
Nationalist/nationalism, 3, 4, 6, 8, 10, Šamir, Isaac, 192
11, 16–18, 27n79, 35, 42, 43, Saposnik, Arieh Bruce, 117n40
61, 69n2, 81, 86–90, 95, 100, Schechtman, Joseph, 24n44
102, 106, 107, 113, 131, 144, Schieder, Wolfgang, 7, 20n7
158, 186, 188, 189, 192, 193 Segev, Tom, 23n42, 57n7
Nazism, national-socialism, 3, 18, Shatzky, Shmuel, 39n11, 39n13,
20n7, 94, 127, 129 82n7, 138n29, 166n47
Nolte, Ernst, 3, 5, 20n9, 21n18 Shavit, Yaacov, 24n50, 69n6
Nordbruch, Goetz, 27n92 Shelef, Nadav, 26n73, 26n78, 27n79,
116n22
Shindler, Colin, 24n45, 24n47,
P 26n78, 83n9
Paris, 24n44, 29, 31, 139n35, 148 Socialist/socialism, 3, 11, 12, 18,
Paxton, Robert O., 6–8, 12, 16, 23n44, 32–35, 42–44, 46–48, 50,
19, 23n35, 23n36, 23n39, 51, 57n9, 57n12, 61, 63, 65, 67,
INDEX
209
68, 69n2, 85, 86, 88, 89, 94, 95, V

99–102, 104, 106, 107, 109, Vardi, Ḥ ayim, 42, 57n3, 71, 82n1, 99,
110, 113, 114, 115n3, 117n42, 100, 115n1, 120, 121, 137n3,
120, 122, 130, 135, 143, 145, 137n5
146, 151, 153, 156–158, 161, Vienna, 12, 30–32, 55, 65, 90, 97n9,
169, 172, 177, 179, 187, 110, 126, 127, 158
189, 192 Von Hentig, Werner Otto, 1, 20n1,
Spengler, Oswald, 12, 32, 20n2, 25n68, 161
85–96, 186 Von Weisl, Wolfgang Ze’ev, 10, 12,
Stern, Abraham (“Yair”), 1, 2, 10, 13, 13, 25n64, 25n65, 30–32, 38n5,
15, 25n67, 35, 36, 39n16, 44–47, 49, 51, 54, 55, 58n13,
39n20, 40n22, 40n23, 67, 68, 58n15, 58n19, 58n21, 58n27,
70n22, 70n24, 79, 81, 84n34, 59n33, 59n35, 59n39, 59n41,
84n35, 94, 95, 111–114, 74, 81, 83n14, 87–91, 95, 96,
117n46, 117n50, 118n52, 97n5, 97n6, 97n8, 97n9, 97n10,
118n53, 118n54, 118n55, 97n11, 97n12, 97n13, 97n19,
118n57, 131–137, 140n58, 97n20, 98n29, 103, 106, 114,
140n60, 141n67, 160–163, 115n12, 116n24, 123–127, 135,
164n21, 168n79, 168n81, 138n21, 138n22, 139n31,
177–179, 181n33, 182n34, 139n33, 139n38, 147–149, 158,
182n35, 182n36, 183, 185, 186, 161, 164n19, 164n20, 164n21,
189–192, 195n18, 196n24, 164–165n25, 165n26, 165n27,
196n25 165n30, 165n45, 166n46,
Sternhell, Zeev, 3–5, 11, 21n10, 167n68, 168n84, 170, 171, 178,
21n11, 21n12, 21n13, 21n14, 180n4, 180n5, 180n8, 185, 186,
21n15, 21n16, 22n34, 193, 189, 190, 195n12, 195n13
196n26
Strachey, John, 47, 58n25,
58n26, 152 W
Sznajder, Mario, 21n15, 98n28 White Papers (1929, 1939), 35, 79,
84n34, 113, 174
T
Tel Aviv, 2, 12, 18, 20n3, 23n42, Y
32–34, 37, 38, 54, 60n52, Yellin-Mor, Nathan, 118n59, 192
91–94, 98n33, 101, 110, 122, Yevin, Joshua, 13, 33–35, 39n12,
129, 138n28, 140n62, 158, 44–46, 49, 50, 54, 55, 57n10,
163n6 58n22, 59n33, 59n36, 59n39,
Thomson, Raven, 25n65 60n49, 63, 65–67, 69n9, 69n14,
69n15, 69n16, 69n17, 69n18,
73–75, 77, 78, 81, 83n9, 83n10,
U 83n15, 84n26, 84n27, 84n29,
Umland, Andreas, 21n20, 22n27 87, 91, 92, 94, 95, 97n22,
210 INDEX
98n25, 98n32, 105, 109, 110, Z

112, 113, 116n21, 117n36, Zimmermann, Moshe, 20n2
117n38, 117n42, 124, 125, 128, Zionism, 9, 15, 34, 44–46,
135, 138n26, 138n28, 139n42, 48–54, 57n12, 62, 64–68, 73–75,
139n43, 147, 149, 150, 154, 87–89, 92, 93, 95, 105–108,
158–161, 163, 165n28, 165n31, 110, 120, 124–126, 138n22,
165n45, 166n47, 166n48, 148–155, 157, 158, 162,
166n51, 167n69, 167n71, 164n20, 165n30, 171, 172,
167n73, 171–173, 175, 176, 174, 176, 190, 193
178, 181n11, 181n12, 181n15, Žitlowski, Ḥ ayim,
181n19, 181n23, 181n26, 144, 163n6
181n31, 181n32, 185, 186, Zrubabel, Jacob,
190, 195n17 101, 144, 163n6

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H E B R E W

ISBN 978-3-319-73678-5 ISBN 978-3-319-73679-2 (eBook)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017964614

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2018

Cover Design: Fatima Jamadar

Printed on acid-free paper

This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer

manuscript; Mridula Vinayak, Carmel Kennedy and Emily Russell from

1 Introduction: A Meeting in Beirut 1

2 Individuals Making a Movement: Short Biographies

3 Facing an Unprecedented Disaster 41

4 The Nation Stands Above All 61

5 Tormented by Foreigners and Betrayed by Brothers 71

6 Is Spengler’s Prophecy Coming True? 85

7 Nation, Unification, Consolidation 99

8 Leaders and Self-Sacrificing Prophets 119

9 “Born Amidst Blood and Fire” 143

10 The Stronger Rules: Might Is Right 169

11 Conclusion: A Hebrew Fascist Movement in Palestine 183

Introduction: A Meeting in Beirut

© The Author(s) 2018 1

Organisation (NMO) about a year earlier.3 However, the initiative for

Unsurprisingly, the greatest bulk of research focused on fascism in Italy

The two basic components of fascism, he argues, were tribal nationalism,

been established. To paraphrase Tolstoy’s famous opening sentence, we

charismatic leader, more than a detailed programme, and to engage in a

The General Phenomenon: Paxton’s Model

marked by obsessive preoccupation with community decline, humiliation

1. a sense of overwhelming crisis beyond the reach of any traditional

A central advantage of using Paxton’s definition of generic fascism for the

The Specific Case: Hebrew Fascism

The suggested hypothesis of this work is derived from combining these

State of the Research Today

Kaplan mentions the Revisionist’s admiration of force and violence, their

Finding the Research Object: Network

institutions to non-institutionalised groups, which pre-date the establish-

Acknowledging the role of fascism in this prosperity, he asked Jabotinsky

Some Preliminary Notes

However, for the sake of this research it is important to distinguish

But we should not project our understanding of fascism today on peo-

Israel and the Palestinian Authority. In 1922, the British government

Still another question regards the slight yet important difference

racism, nor even were they necessarily anti-Semitic. He adds, however,

by the existence of non-European fascist movements. Japanese, Chinese,

(and occasionally others as well). The closing chapter summarises the

23. Ibid., p. 11.

55. Ibid., pp. xvi–xvii.

79. Different interpretations of nationalism can also compete within a national

Individuals Making a Movement: Short

Itamar Ben Avi

© The Author(s) 2018 29

Wolfgang Von Weisl

Von Weisl was a prolific writer: in addition to a dozen books he

The ideological shift in Aḥime’ir’s views was probably gradual—a pro-

Uri Zwi Grünberg

Abraham Stern (“Ya’ir”)

successful assassinations of British officers, the British police managed to

Facing an Unprecedented Disaster

not similar to that of Germany or to England. These peoples of the South

1 Introduction: A Meeting in Beirut 1

2 Individuals Making a Movement: Short Biographies

3 Facing an Unprecedented Disaster 41

4 The Nation Stands Above All 61

5 Tormented by Foreigners and Betrayed by Brothers 71

6 Is Spengler’s Prophecy Coming True? 85

7 Nation, Unification, Consolidation 99

8 Leaders and Self-Sacrificing Prophets 119

9 “Born Amidst Blood and Fire” 143

10 The Stronger Rules: Might Is Right 169

11 Conclusion: A Hebrew Fascist Movement in Palestine 183