Readers of The Jerusalem Post know Amotz Asa-El as the former executive editor of this paper and the current writer of a weekly Friday column, “Middle Israel.” I know him as a long-time friend and former colleague, a Senior Fellow at Jerusalem’s Shalom Hartman Institute, and one of the most astute, erudite, and deep-and-wide-thinking intellectuals I’ve had the pleasure of personally encountering.
But most Israelis know Asa-El as the author of Mitzad Ha’Ivelet Ha’Yehudi (The Jewish March of Folly), which emerged as a surprise Hebrew best-seller back in 2019.
I say “surprise” because the book was a deeply researched, densely packed study of how a dozen civil wars that erupted in ancient Israel and Judea established a cultural and social DNA of disunity that continues to bedevil the Jewish people for thousands of years afterward – hardly the stuff of summer beach reading.
But like Yuval Noah Harari and Micah Goodman, Asa-El has the writerly skill to package the stuff of doctoral theses into a compelling narrative that speaks urgently to our current conditions. So much so that among the avid fans of The Jewish March of Folly were former prime minister Naftali Bennett and President Isaac Herzog.
Bennett handed the book out to his ministers during his prime ministerial stint, and the president invited Asa-El to speak to a forum of leading public figures after mass protests erupted against the current government’s proposed judicial reforms, exactly the kind of societal divisiveness his work had established as a foundational weakness of the Jewish polity.
Of course, that inbred internal disunity is proving a detriment as Israel is forced to conduct a multifront war against external enemies following the October 7 massacre by Hamas. It is, therefore, fitting that, having diagnosed this fundamental ailment of the Jewish state, Asa-El has penned a follow-up volume that offers a potential cure, titled Ha’Safar Ha’Yehudi Ha’Aharon (The Last Jewish Frontier), recently published by Yedioth Books.
It’s a work that is even more ambitious in scope and intent than The Jewish March of Folly, a mix of informed travelogue, historical survey, philosophic inquiry, political analysis, and speculative fiction.
Asa-El takes us on journeys to actual and metaphorical frontiers in Israel and across the world, including the American West, the European exploration of the New World, the Great Wall of China, the string of hinterland “development towns” Israel built in peripheral areas during the 1950s and 60s, the Jewish settlements it put up across the northern West Bank starting in the 1970s, and the optimistic but illusory vision of a “New Middle East” promised by the Oslo Accords in the 1990s.
Through both on-the-scene reportage and intellectual inquiry, he examines how frontiers of promise turned into “broken frontiers” that eventually fractured the nations and societies that explored and developed them.
In the book’s final portion, he moves to a frontier that also once held so much potential for the Zionist enterprise – the relatively vast but underpopulated Negev.
Here, Asa-El shifts from the real-life current despair and suffering of the Gaza border communities devastated on October 7, 2023 to an optimistic, even utopian vision of a Negev that serves as a “last frontier’’ that unites Israeli society and global Jewry in the form of a national project to settle this underdeveloped region.
It’s a revival of David Ben-Gurion’s dream of “conquering the desert,” though updated within the parameters of the latest technological, environmental, and sociological developments.
This is presented in the form of a fictional travel diary of a Japanese journalist touring this flourishing desert paradise at the end of this century, clearly inspired by Theodor Herzl’s visionary account of a future Jewish state in his landmark Zionist polemic Altneuland (Old-New Land).
Taking on the literary mantle of the likes of Herzl and Ben-Gurion is a daunting prospect, but as I said, The Last Jewish Frontier is nothing if not ambitious. I sat down with Asa-El in his Jerusalem home recently to discuss why and how he chose to embark on this challenging assignment. (His answers were edited for space considerations.)
In your previous book, you looked at the past to interpret and diagnose the problems afflicting Israeli society in the present. In The Last Jewish Frontier, you continue to examine both the past and present but use that to chart a course toward a better future. What was the genesis of making this big leap?
I said to myself – after having been basically a doomsday prophet in the previous book – that in this work, I wanted to be a prophet of consolation, similar to the difference between the prophets Jeremiah and Isaiah, basically the two types of prophets you find in the Jewish heritage.
I wanted to shift from a negative diatribe to a positive message about the future. After having warned expressly that in Israeli society, and more broadly in the Jewish people, there are elements perfectly fine with the prospect of a civil war and even eager to trigger one – and I didn’t know then how so soon I would be vindicated – I wanted to show a recipe for national reconciliation.
Why choose the concept of the “frontier” as the book’s dominant theme?
The concept of the “frontier,” which I first encountered 40 years ago as an undergrad in Hebrew University’s American Studies Department, has intrigued me ever since then. The day I finished The Jewish March of Folly, I began researching the idea of the frontier and traveled to four continents for that purpose. I emerged with an analysis of the frontier’s place in general history in different civilizations.
For example, I found in America’s Western expansion a “positive frontier” that was a source of moral inspiration, a quest to create what Jefferson called “an empire of liberty,” regardless of how it actually turned out.
Then, there was the Chinese frontier along the Great Wall, which I called the “horror frontier,” which was used to close society off.
And in Europe, there was the “adventure frontier,” looking at the navigators who took off from Portugal to explore the new world, not for any moral mission but for the sake of adventure, even abuse.
And how is the frontier concept relevant to Jewish history, to us here in Israel?
Here in Israel, I found three kinds of “broken frontiers” that literally define our history. The first broken frontier was the development towns, which in themselves were a heroic story. A penniless, underpopulated country building 21 new towns from scratch was, in conception, noble and visionary. However, it was done in a way that sowed the seeds of Israel’s terrible social rifts.
The second one was the settlements in Samaria. After the Six Day War, Israel woke up with a huge new frontier – huge in Israeli terms – constituting about three times as much land. Initially, for the first seven years after 1967, wherever Israel did or did not settle, it was done with a broad consensus behind it.
But in 1974, a new movement emerged. Gush Emunim stormed Samaria. They claimed to be followed by the entire nation and that they would be the locomotive, but this wasn’t so; they were controversial. And so once again, we had a broken frontier, not physically, but socially, causing another Israeli rift we are still living with.
The third one was the Oslo Accords, which presented to Israelis like me a new frontier, the regional frontier of the “New Middle East” in which you have an Israel with smaller borders but one that held the promise that Israelis would be able to get into their cars and drive to Turkey. Yet this vision was also divisive because it was not supported by the entire population. It ended the way it ended; this, too, was a broken frontier.
So what’s the lesson here?
A frontier should be a matter of consensus. Otherwise, it will never be an engine of promise; on the contrary, it will be an engine of catastrophe. That’s why this society sorely needs a new frontier, one that will be shared and supported by all Israelis, which they will storm together.
This new frontier you propose is actually an old one – Ben-Gurion’s vision of settling and developing the Negev. It’s one Israeli society largely rejected – or neglected – in the years since he proposed it. So, why do you think it’s timely to revive it?
Ben-Gurion’s vision was both incredibly insightful and incredibly naive. It was insightful in that, as far back as 1935, when he traveled through the Negev to Eilat, he understood even before the Arab revolt that this was where the promise was because this land was vacant. To see that as a statesman back then was incredible.
His naïveté was in believing that ideology and a pioneering spirit would be enough to bring millions of Israelis to settle there. I show that this is not how the American West was settled. It was settled due to personal, perfectly legitimate, material motivations.
In America, you had the Homestead Act, which offered settlers their own patch of land on which they could realize their ambitions individually. That is what drew Americans to the West. I argue that we could do the same thing here – technically in a slightly different way – and I am very prescriptive about it in the book.
‘The Last Jewish Frontier’ does offer a very detailed and convincing plan for settling and economically developing the Negev as a unifying project, nationally and as a joint initiative between Israeli Jews and the Diaspora. But what makes you think that this Israeli government or any subsequent one would be up to the task of implementing such a tremendously ambitious undertaking?
Yes, where is the Israeli leader who will think: What’s good for the Jewish people? Right now, we have a government that sees the Jewish people as merely its instrument – and even more cynically is ready to shed those Jews who are not prepared to be their instrument. This book is an answer to them. And it is a blueprint for those who will succeed them, God willing, sooner rather than later. ■