Menachem Magidor was born in 1946, two years before the foundation of the state of Israel. He is a mathematician, a profession he decided on when he was 13 and which he says is a big help in his current job. The university represents the cross-section of Israeli society, apart from the ultra-orthodox community, and is the major academic institution for Jewish studies in the world. This gives Magidor, who has been president since 1997, a double responsibility: for the advancement of science and scholarship.
Has it been possible since the bombing to maintain an atmosphere of openness here?
It has become more difficult. We have had to step up security. We’ve had to restrict access to campus and allow only those people who are here on legitimate business. There is a cost, in the freedom of academic life, though we try to define “legitimate business” in the broadest possible terms. Certainly we shall continue having Jewish and Arab students, including Palestinians.
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Have you noticed any increase in tension between Jewish and Arab students?
I don’t feel it. In a sense it’s the opposite. There’s a feeling now that there is something very fragile but very important happening on this campus and we shouldn’t let it be broken. There is a cautiousness on both sides, a feeling that you shouldn’t move things to the extremes and you should respect the other side’s feelings. Not that everything is ideal of course. A typical Arab student has a very different outlook to a typical Jewish student.
Have your 70 or so Palestinian students had a harder time because of the bombing?
They probably feel that they are suspected by the other students. That’s unavoidable. One of the saddest remarks I heard was from an Israeli Arab student who said that when he goes to the cafeteria now and sees an Arab-looking student he asks himself, is he a terrorist? Psychologically this is a very difficult situation.
How has the bombing affected you personally and your view of the conflict?
It was a very emotional experience. It made me particularly sad because in attacking the university the terrorists were sending a message. This place is perceived to be very tolerant and moderate, and they were saying, “We don’t want any kind of coexistence.” It was not just about fighting for their lives or fighting for a Palestinian state. I think that is why the university was targeted. It also represents ideas of democracy and modern science, so the message could have been that we don’t want any part of that. Does this make me want to give up working for peace? No way.
If you were sitting here with a member of Hamas, could you have a discussion?
I think I would find it very difficult. I’d have to find out if there was any kind of joint platform whereby each could accept the legitimacy of the other, despite the different religions and different points of view. If, as I suspect, he could not accept the legitimacy of the idea of a Jewish state, there would be nothing I could say to him.
How else has the intifada affected the university?
The main thing we suffer is a drop in the number of visitors. We had visitors from all over the world, including postdocs and top researchers. Now they are not coming. That has had an impact on our research because an essential ingredient is an exchange of ideas.
What do you think of the boycott of Israeli academics instigated by the British scientists Steven and Hilary Rose?
I think it is completely outrageous. We are not a political organisation. I understand that people can be critical of the policies of the state of Israel. I myself disagree with a lot of things it does. But an academic boycott implies that Israel is a wicked society, and I think that is so out of proportion. But at the top levels of the scientific community, it didn’t catch on.
Your university is unique in that it’s not just concerned with the advancement of knowledge, it is also about the advancement of the Jewish people and the state of Israel. Does that make it a very different place to other universities?
There is something unique about it. It was actually established before the state of Israel. The unique thing was that the university was set up to serve a community that did not yet exist. It was part of the Zionist venture. It was perceived to be one of the most important ingredients in the rebuilding of the Jewish community. So we have to keep a balance, on the one hand keeping the ideological commitment, and on the other being open and ready to accept heretical views. I think we have managed to handle it very well.
Have you managed to maintain contact with Palestinian academics?
Since the intifada broke out it has become more and more difficult. We had a lot of contacts with Palestinians, collaborating in all kinds of subjects. Some of these projects are still going on. Sometimes the people involved meet each other outside the region, in Cyprus for example. But generally it is the Palestinians who have withdrawn. After the bombing here, I got several calls from heads of Palestinian universities offering their condolences, but they asked me not to make them public.
I’ve just been at Birzeit, the major Palestinian university outside Ramallah, and its president said that like you he was trying to create an independent, open academic environment. Do you have any advice for him?
It’s tough. His difficulties are much more serious than mine, and following my advice in his circumstances will require a lot of courage is this: formulate for yourself some principles for academic freedom and tolerance, and try to stick to them as much as possible. Don’t cave in to political pressure to be part of any kind of ideological or political agenda.
Are you under any kind of political pressure yourself? For example, I was told that since the bombing, the security department has adopted special procedures for Palestinians coming to the campus, and that it has fired a number of Arab janitors.
The procedure for Palestinians is no different than for anyone else. As for the Arab janitors, there were some – fewer than 10 – who were not Israeli citizens and had some record of involvement in anti-Israeli activities. They were contract workers and we had to ask the contractor to stop employing them on campus. We had to lay off other maintenance and cleaning staff because of financial constraints. But that was entirely financial, there was no political pressure.
What do you think of the government’s policy towards the Palestinians?
I consider myself a modern Israeli, someone who is ready to make big concessions for peace. I believe that the use of some force may be necessary. But in many cases the Israeli army’s use of force may be excessive or unwise. In principle I would like to see the Israeli government state more clearly the strategic goal of having two independent states living in peace, with the Palestinian state based more or less on the 1967 borders. I would also like to see the Palestinians state more clearly that they give up the issue of the right of return of refugees to Israel, which is a euphemism for the destruction of Israel.
You are head of the most important Jewish academic institution in the world. Were you driven as much by your Jewish ancestry as your academic passion?
I am driven by both. I am committed to my Jewish heritage, though it is important to reinterpret it for a modern point of view. And our ability to understand the world is what distinguishes us from animals.
When did you decide you were going to be a mathematician?
I was 13, and I was browsing in a bookstore and ran into a book in Hebrew written by a professor of mathematics called Abraham Fraenkel – he was head of maths for many years at this university. Within 15 or 20 minutes of looking at this book I knew I wanted to be a mathematician.
Does your mathematics help you in running this university?
I believe it does help. The ability to think conceptually and formulate general principles, which is essential in mathematics, is also useful in any management position. Universities are very complicated institutions to manage anywhere, and they are especially difficult in the present circumstances. The most difficult thing about my job is keeping a split personality. On the one hand you have to deal with the here and now. There is the usual Israeli routine whenever there is a terrorist attack of finding out where your family is. We do very short phone calls: “Are you all right? OK.” You get into this routine. Then on the other hand you have to worry about the long-term future of the university.
I can draw some inspiration from the time it was founded. In 1918 the British-Turkish front line was only a few miles away from here, and at the founding ceremony you could still hear the guns. Today the front line is not even a few miles away. It is right here.
What if …
Schnitzel or felafel. A life-or-death decision? Never in my wildest dreams, writes Lisa Perlman. But if schnitzel had won out on 31 July, my two little children and I would have been sitting in the Frank Sinatra cafeteria at the Hebrew University when the bomb went off.
We had spent the morning at my office on the campus, whose lifeblood is dialogue between Jews and Arabs, Israelis and Palestinians. At lunchtime I asked the kids where they wanted to eat. The “Frank” schnitzel is hard to beat, even when accompanied by chips fried in reconstituted oil. The choice was that, or felafel in town with our 12-year-old friend Yair. It was a tough call for kids aged 5 and 6.
It was Yair who clinched it. The boys decided visiting him would be more fun. After all, they had licked their fingers at Frank a week earlier. So felafel it was, with hummus – and chips fried in reconstituted oil.
I will forever be grateful to Yair. I tremble at the thought of what would have happened if they had chosen to eat at Frank, and I grieve for those who did. It only reinforces the burning inside me to find a way towards the other possibility – the one that women and children are screaming for but cannot be heard for the noise of war around us.
Lisa Perlman is director of media affairs at the Harry S. Truman Research Institute for the Advancement of Peace at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem