Abstract
The persona, influence, and modi operandi of Israel’s first PM, David Ben-Gurion, have been central in studies on the history of Israel. Relatively few studies, however, focus on the patterns of Ben-Gurion’s leadership in an attempt to decode his personality and the sources of his influence. This article seeks a better understanding about one pattern in Ben-Gurion’s leadership—his communication with “the public” or, to be more precise, with his followers. Below, using Ben-Gurion as a case study, a model is proposed that applies current leadership theories that view the leadership phenomenon as “a relationship that is jointly produced by leaders and followers.”
The article proposes an analysis of Ben-Gurion’s leadership through the conceptualization of leader–follower interrelations, following Sheer’s conceptualization, as a “two-way interaction process [by which] the leader and the member co-contribute to the leadership process”.
The persona, influence, and modi operandi of David Ben-Gurion have been central in studies on the history of Israel from the political, military, international, cultural, and social points of view. Some of these studies are biographical (Bar-Zohar, 1994; Shapira, 2014; Shilon, 2013; St. John, 1998; Teveth, 1976–2002; Kurtzman D, 1983); others emphasize the leader’s demarches in politics and statecraft as part of comprehensive research on a specific aspect of Israel’s history (Friling, 1998; Don-Yehiya E, 1989; Kedar, 2009; Tzahor, 1994; Yanai, 1982; Medding, 1989). Many works dissect and analyze Ben-Gurion’s agenda as a formative: Israel’s role as a Jewish state, challenges of security and pioneering, law and justice, rural settlement, and socialism, to name only a few. Relatively few, however, focus on the patterns of Ben-Gurion’s leadership in an attempt to decode his personality, modes of behavior, and sources of influence, and even compare him with leaders contemporary to him or those who held similar positions in other times and other societies (Aronson, 2010; Avineri, 1992; Kolatt, 1972; Shapira, 1988; Tzahor, 1992).
An additional group of studies bridges both of these clusters; it focuses on Ben-Gurion’s relations with various social groups and sectors. Within this ambit are Michael Keren’s study on Ben-Gurion and the intellectuals (1984), a collection of studies gathered by Shlomo Avineri about Ben-Gurion as the leader of a labor movement (1988), Rafi Mann’s work on Ben-Gurion’s relations with the media (2012), Avi Bareli’s investigation of relations with the young generation in Mapai, Israel's major labour Party (2007), and Kabalo's studies on Ben-Gurion’s contacts with Israeli youth and young adults (2008).
This article seeks a better understanding about one such pattern in Ben-Gurion’s leadership—his communication with “the public” or, to be more precise, with his followers. 1 Below, using Ben-Gurion as a case study, I demonstrate how current theories and conceptualizations serve as a relevant tool for the analysis of David Ben-Gurion’s leadership characteristics and, on this basis, propose that these conceptualizations be adapted for further historical research on the phenomena of leadership. At the center of analysis stands the premise that the leadership phenomenon should be viewed as “a relationship that is jointly produced by leaders and followers” (Howell and Shamir, 2005: 96).
Leadership scholars have found that followers remained mostly an unknown variable in understanding the leadership phenomenon until the middle of the 20th century (Howell and Shamir, 2005: 96). This began to change gradually in the last third of that century, as many researchers began to “conceptualize leadership as a relationship” (Popper, 1999: 22) and, naturally enough, took a closer look at the variables of which these relations are formed. By so doing, they found that followers play a broader role in the leadership process than leadership theories had conventionally ascribed to them.
An important theoretical construct that encourages the perception of leadership as a relationship is the leadership member exchange (LMX) model. “The centroid concept of the theory is that effective leadership processes occur when leaders and followers are able to develop mature leadership relationships (partnerships) and thus gain access to the many benefits these relationships bring” (Graen and Uhl-Bien, 1995: 225). Studies on leader–follower relations are obviously interested in questions of trust, respect, and mutual commitment; they attempt to assess leader–follower intereffects and the connection between the dyadic relationship and the outcome of the leadership act. Such an inquiry yields questions relating to the development of effective leadership and the ability to sustain it (Graen and Uhl-Bien, 1995: 222–223).
In a recent paper, Sheer challenges the “vague, inconsistent conceptual definitions of LMX” (Sheer, 2015: 214). She demonstrates the absence of the “central construct of LMX” and points out the “conspicuous absence of exchange itself” (Sheer, 2015: 216). Sheer suggests that research return to the fundamental definitions of “exchange,” basing this recommendation on Bernerth, et al. (2007), who developed the leader–member social exchange scale (LMSX).
2
This group of scholars defined LMX as a behavioral entity rather than a cognitive construction and, therefore, a course of action in which one gives another “something tangible or intangible with the expectation that the latter would return something of similar value in an unspecified time frame” (Sheer,2015: 220). On this foundation, Sheer proposes a new conceptualization of LMX: Fundamentally social, LMX is a two-way interaction process, in which a leader and a subordinate voluntarily exchange tangible or intangible commodities that directly pertain to work tasks and social intentions. By [this] two-way process, the leader and the member co-contribute to the leadership process rather than a leader-defined one way process. (Sheer, 2015: 221)
Following Sheer’s focus on LMX as a behavior that includes communicative acts, this study undertakes a historical case study in which such a behavioral pattern was exhibited and sheds light on aspects of mutuality, interaction, and exchange that characterized DBG’s patterns of leadership. The findings presented in this paper also provide empirical evidence in support of Tourish’s premise that “Leadership is less one person doing something to another (with their more or less willing compliance). Rather, it is a process whereby leaders and non-leaders accomplish each other through dynamics of interaction in which mutual influence is always present” (Tourish, 2014: 87)
As may be seen, studies based on LMX and its derivatives rely on case studies in the field of organizational leadership, a leadership that operates within a defined space and often maintains relations with its followers through mediators associated with the organization’s middle echelons (Mumford et al., 2006: 139–142). The current study uses existing theoretical guidelines of leader–follower relations to investigate the modi operandi (i.e. the behavioral dimensions and interactive communication processes) of a political and historical leader whose organizational frame was a state populated by a “membership” (as this concept appears in LMX theory—PK) comprising an entire citizenry. 3 Basing itself on the premises that detect a connection between the effectiveness of leadership and the quality of leader–follower relations (Graen and Uhl-Bien, 1995: 224; Howell and Shamir, 2005: 98), this article proposes a new look at David Ben-Gurion’s leadership. To do this, it tracks the leader’s relations with his collective of followers by investigating the correspondence that yielded a dyadic interaction—a correspondence that Ben-Gurion used to communicate the value messages and elements of vision that he wished, by means of his leadership, to translate into action.
On these grounds, I wish to argue that yet another key to understanding Ben-Gurion’s durability in the Israeli political system, both in his years as prime minister and afterward, lies in this behavior pattern—an interactive communicative relationship with the public at large—which he sustained and cultivated even when on leave from his official duties. An inseparable part of this interaction, as I demonstrate below, was the direct communication of messages to individual followers—messages that included, in one way or another, goals for future attainment.
In other words, the study that follows offers another explanation for the sources of Ben-Gurion’s influence and survivability: the direct interactive relationship that Ben-Gurion nurtured with various segments of his community of followers. This pattern in Ben-Gurion’s leadership has been marginalized, thus far in research even though it was central in his daily activity, as will be shown in his correspondence with individual Israelis who chose to present him with their views on current issues.
Analysis of Ben-Gurion’s leadership through the conceptualization of leader–follower interrelations as a “two-way interaction process [by which] the leader and the member co-contribute to the leadership process” (Sheer, 2015: 221) may also help to broaden the theoretical discussion by proposing the expansion of the well-known LMX model to diverse and wider circles of followers and leaders. 4
Leader–public relations in historical context
Yehoshua Arieli points out the connection between the enlightenment and perception of leadership in the modern era. As he puts it, ideas derived from the enlightenment—human and civil rights, the covenantal nature of governance and statehood, the idea of popular sovereignty, and the ideals of civil society, republic, and democracy—created a foundation for the political and social regimes of the 19th and 20th centuries and induced radical change in the status and duties of leaders and leadership. They even created new tools for the implementation of the foregoing: means of mobilizing public opinion and creating settings of loyalty and mass political action (Arieli, 1992: 105). 5
The revolutionary aspect of this outlook lies in the perception that reality and the changing of reality are among the responsibilities and duties of the individual and the members of his or her society. The individual must persuade, instruct, spearhead, and direct the collective endeavor. Obviously, this perspective also has revolutionary implications for the role of leadership and the leader vis-à-vis society and the shaping of its fate. Leading ideas need a leader and a leadership that will put them into practice. By implication, the leader must marshal the support of an inchoate and varying public and strive to earn its legitimacy either symbolically or via elections and the transfer of agency (Arieli, 1992).
Harry Truman expressed this concept tellingly when he described the limitations of the power of the American presidency: “I sit here all day trying to persuade people to do the things they ought to have sense enough to do without my persuading them […]. That’s all the powers of the president amount to” (Neustadt, 1990; quoted from: Brown, 2014: 15).
Contemplating the phenomenon of leadership in 20th-century history, Brown identified leaders in the purest sense of the term as those who amass a public of followers and can influence society and politics without a scintilla of political power (Brown, 2014: 53). 6 Even in these cases, however, one cannot overlook the key role of institutions as vehicles through which the leader promotes his or her goal and as the bodies that circumscribe his or her power and actions. Thus, congressional constraints on presidents, Brown states, whet the executives’ impulse to appeal directly to the public, i.e. “to go over the heads” of the governing authorities, in the hope of winning voters over and applying pressure to the legislature. This method of communication gives American presidents an additional source of power, one that Harry Truman called “the power to persuade” (Brown, 2014: 55–56).
Franklin Roosevelt’s success, Brown argues, was manifested in his ability to persuade a broad public of the need to enact legislation that was radically innovative in the American context. To bring this about, he put public opinion to masterful use (after having used “persuasion” to shape it—PK) in order to convince Congress that such means were necessary. In his “fireside chats,” Roosevelt made extensive use of radio as a medium by which he could influence the public. Lyndon Johnson’s medium of persuasion, in contrast, focused on Congress and relied on his phenomenal memory and personal knowledge of the rationales that could sway each and every legislator (Brown, 2014: 146–147, 75, 344).
Importantly, leadership scholars debate the efficacy of persuasion. Some deny the existence of studies that empirically prove the existence of “the power to persuade” (Edwards, 2009: 816–837). Returning to the LMX theory, however, we may find support for the claim that the leader–follower relationship does have some effect on the extent of a leadership’s effectiveness (Shamir and Howell, 1999: 257–283).
Be this as it may, it is not the aim of the current study to prove effectiveness; its goal is to reveal this pattern of leadership as reflected in various actions of Israel’s founding father and offer another explanation for Ben-Gurion’s stature in Israeli public circles and the secret of his survivability as a leader, both in his years of office and during his moratoria from official positions or permanent resignation from it.
Tracking the pattern of relations that Ben-Gurion developed vis-à-vis the Israeli public, one cannot but notice an attempt on his part to rely on “the power to persuade.” In Ben-Gurion’s case, however, this concept had a broader and more extensive meaning than that described above. Ben-Gurion stayed in touch with Israeli citizens of diverse affiliations, usually in response to letters in which citizens asked him questions and expressed their views.
The very act of contacting a leader may not be so exceptional; after all, people are inclined to write to authorities, including at times the person at the top. In the case at hand, however, the leader chose to answer neither tersely nor officiously nor via secretaries but personally and in handwriting. Ben-Gurion even followed up on such correspondence by inserting the handwritten comment “was answered” on this or that letter and, next to it, the date on which the reply was given. In his responses to Israeli citizens, he seized the random moment to communicate to inquirers about various areas of life and attempted to mobilize them for actions derived from his views and worldviews.
It seems odd at first glance, because Ben-Gurion did not use direct communication with individual Israelis as a substitute for mass public appearances and extensive media coverage. For this very reason, however, his motivation to pursue unmediated contact with the public stands out. Furthermore, his ardor for direct communication with individual anonymous citizens escalated during his moratoria from duties, his spells of semi-retirement and, of course, the aftermath of his resignation from the premiership. As I show below, however, he also adhered to this pattern at times when his leadership kept him very busy.
Ostensibly, the medium at issue owed its origins to a public that wished to communicate directly with its leader and not to a leader who, as Arieli expresses it, sought to mobilize public opinion and develop loyalty for the purpose of mass political action. These members of the public turned to Ben-Gurion and shared their reflections, reservations, and demands of him as a leader. By doing so, they expressed a high level of efficacy, a term used by the democracy scholar Mark Warren when attempting to indicate the degree to which individuals or groups believe in their ability to generate change and affect decision making and policies (Warren, 2001: 71). 7 By observing the pattern of Ben-Gurion’s response and the contents and ideas that he chose to present by its means, however, one finds that both sides of the correspondence were equally desirous of the relationship. Ben-Gurion’s responses were usually more than perfunctory; they included detailed reference to topics raised or implied by the correspondent and tied directly into issues that the leader wished to promote. Expressed in the terminology of LMX theory, Ben-Gurion valued the leader–follower relationship and considered it an inseparable part of the leadership act. Borrowing from Truman and Brown, one may say that he did not flinch from invoking the power to persuade at the individual level and considered it key in the attainment of his policy goals. In this context, Ben-Gurion was not a typical modern leader because, by choosing to broaden his “power to persuade” and “strive for engagement” with his followers, he deemed the modern media of his day—radio and press, insufficient. In lieu of them, he sought to reach out to each and every Israeli believing that if collective change were to take place it must occur primarily at the individual level.
The findings that follow are based mainly on collections of letters in the Ben-Gurion Archives. Since Ben-Gurion held various leadership positions for nearly fifty years and engaged in a wide and diverse spectrum of topics; I choose to focus on three junctures in his career: two periods during which he had resigned the premiership and a third in which he served as a Member of the Knesset (the Israeli parliament) but held no executive post. What these junctures have in common is that in each he pledged itself to the advancement of specific causes by means of the pattern at hand, i.e. direct dialogue with followers.
In addition, as a point of reference and comparison with regard to this leadership pattern and its implications, it is asked below whether the direct-dialogue pattern persisted even at times when Ben-Gurion was engrossed in election campaigns or enjoying pinnacles of peak performance in his public endeavors. For this purpose, the direct-communication pattern is examined in three election campaigns, a month before Election Day each time. Consequently, the findings that follow are presented in two parts: those pertaining to the direct-dialogue pattern at peak periods of political activity and in-depth findings relating to Ben-Gurion’s attempts to promote specific causes at times of transition and hiatus from intensive activity.
The study is based on a qualitative reading of hundreds of letters that Israeli citizens sent David Ben-Gurion over a period of nearly thirteen years and the leader’s replies. This specific time frame was chosen due to Ben-Gurion’s self-imposed moratoria and the historical events that coincided with them, making them particularly significant for him.
Research results I: Election campaigns—Maintaining the direct dialogue while appealing to the masses
Observing three election campaigns in which Ben-Gurion ran for the premiership under the Mapai Party banner, one finds that his pattern of direct dialogue with followers persisted. In his election campaigns, Ben-Gurion typically made numerous public and media appearances. This, of course, left his schedule even more crowded than usual and probably forced him to devote attention to his potential voters, many of whom were Party members and functionaries. Even so, he continued to correspond with politically unidentified members of the public at large, a collective composed of individual and often anonymous Israeli citizens. Analysis of the diverse human mosaic with which he maintained contact even at these times demonstrates the consistency and constancy of the direct-dialogue pattern in Ben-Gurion’s leadership.
Thus, for example, intellectuals presented Ben-Gurion with their works, 8 argued with him about Hebrew linguistics, 9 and reacted to remarks that he made, orally or in writing, about the Bible and Israel geography. 10 Experts and entrepreneurs in the fields of science and technology shared scientific initiatives, discoveries, or problems that their invention could solve. 11 Many correspondents were mindful of the oddity of writing to the premier about personal affairs in the middle of an election campaign. Some addressed this matter apologetically in their letters. 12
Adolescents and young people also bombarded Ben-Gurion with letters continually and on diverse topics. Their questions ranged from vacillations about whom to vote for 13 to problems of immigrant absorption 14 and education. 15 Some of these correspondents had immigrated not long before. Their “parents”—the population of adult immigrants—were also among the ones who turned to the Prime Minister, even with an election campaign rolling along, often concerning the representation of, or political support from, this or that ethnic community. 16
Older non-immigrants evidently considered an election campaign just the right time to offer advice or express their views about political affairs pertaining to the country. 17 Some of them, however, simply wished to share an experience or a personal accomplishment with the leader. 18
As evidence of the importance that he attributed to this channel of communication, Ben-Gurion made sure to answer the letters irrespective of their contents, their authors’ identity, and their timing. Preoccupied by the election campaign and the many events related to it, including crisscrossing the country, Ben-Gurion made it his habit to set aside special days for intensive return correspondence.
When he was seriously delayed in responding, Ben-Gurion made a special effort to explain why, to apologize, or delicately to hint that something related to the election campaign had kept him busy. His remarks leave no doubt about the value that he attributed to such correspondence as a communication pattern that should be strictly maintained: “You know the crazy days that we endured in the past month,” he explained after apologizing for his delay in answering Dr. Danelius, who had responded to Ben-Gurion’s questions about the existence of a port along the Sharon coast in the biblical era and about the city of Shechem (Nablus) at the national Israel geography conference. 19 Ben-Gurion was also tardy in answering a letter from Bracha David, a young woman from an immigrant family who recounted her difficulties in getting a high-school education. Four days after the Knesset elections, he began his response by apologizing for not having been able to reply immediately. “You may appreciate the reason yourself.” 20
The contents of the letters shed light on the broad spectrum of topics that prompted citizens to write to the future Prime Minister even in the middle of an election campaign. Some of the letters, of course, related directly to the elections and the list of electoral candidates 21 ; these included requests from specific groups to assure their due representation. 22 However, the proportion of letters from individual and anonymous citizens that referred to totally different matters, the kind with which, as they knew, Ben-Gurion busied himself in calmer times—Jewish identity, biblical passages, scientific achievements, and cultural needs—was no smaller. 23
Study of Ben-Gurion’s interaction with the Israeli public in three election campaigns (1955 and 1959, when he was at the peak of his strength, and 1961, when he had begun to slip and faced withering criticism due to the Lavon affair 24 ) reveals a consistent and continual pattern of correspondence with the Israeli citizens across a wide range of sectors and ages. As I show here and below, this pattern gathered strength at junctures where Ben-Gurion did not hold government posts but continued to consider himself a leader and strove to be influential. The pattern of communication with followers at three such junctures demonstrates the leader’s eagerness to send messages and mobilize the public for action in matters that he considered of prime importance at each particular time. In certain respects, one may say that when he did not serve as Prime Minister, Ben-Gurion felt even more responsible for providing leadership and setting concrete goals that he wished to promote by means other than the conventional toolbox of governance (government ministries and the legislative system), i.e. by inspiring individuals to act individually and collectively on the basis of ideological affinity.
Research results II: Time-out from public duties—an opportunity to cultivate the leader–follower relationship
Now we turn our attention to those three singular junctures in time. In the first two, Ben-Gurion resigned the premiership and, for this reason, sparked an intensive dialogue with the Israeli public: his first retirement to Sede Boqer (December 1953–early 1955) and his retirement announcement in January 1961 pursuant to the decision of the “Committee of Seven” to exonerate Lavon—a resignation that brought down the government and led to Knesset elections in August of that year. The third point in time that triggered a vigorous dialogue between Ben-Gurion and the Israeli public was related not directly to him but to a game-changing historical event, the Six-Day War. It loosed a torrent of letters to Ben-Gurion from Israelis, who sought his views on the new geopolitical reality.
The first retirement to Sede Boqer—“Mobilizing the young generation for new pioneerism”
In late 1953, Ben-Gurion resigned the premiership and moved to Kibbutz Sede Boqer. During his 14 months out of office, he busied himself with young people by meeting with them and their educators, corresponding with them, and organizing mass conferences centering on outreach to them.
In this discourse, Ben-Gurion urged Israel’s young generation to set itself two main goals—immigrant integration and settling the wastelands (Kabalo, 2003: 128)—and expected these goals to be attained through the actions and initiatives of citizens and, particularly, the young, on whom he focused after retiring in Sede Boqer (Kabalo, 2009: 97). It is true that Ben-Gurion did not mask his intention of mobilizing the young for action, but the young responded en masse to the leader’s invitation to discourse. Thus, letters from the young began to stream to the leader’s new home, 25 creating a direct dialogue between him and young followers. In this dialogue, Ben-Gurion worked through two questions: What role should Israel’s young generation play, and what should the pioneering act aim to accomplish now that statehood had been attained? In their letters to Ben-Gurion, the young correspondents reacted to the challenges that the leader impressed upon them and, in so doing, unhesitatingly disputed and criticized the program that he bruited with them in mind.
The young people’s criticism mirrored the political squabbles and bitter struggles that beset the Zionist Labor Movement at large. Some of the youth considered Ben-Gurion’s attempts to rope them in for collective action as just another step in his “statist” plot to disembowel the classical pioneering settings, i.e. the youth and kibbutz movements (Kabalo, 2005). 26
Others criticized the young themselves for having forsworn the values that had powered the Zionist enterprise from its outset. Their lives, the critics alleged, were so devoid of meaning that they could not comprehend the leader’s ideas, let alone respond favorably to them. Such sentiments are well reflected in remarks by Noa Sirkis, a Tel Aviv teenager who divulged the hedonistic mindsets of Israel’s urban adolescents: Sir, you must have heard of the salon society, which engages in nothing but stupid games and dances. Well, most of the young are organized in salon societies. They consider themselves too weak to take proper advantage of the pioneering era in which they’re living, an era that demands certain actions, since nearly all young people today are averse to any form of pioneering.
27
The correspondence between teenagers, or their educators, and the leader reflected debates among the young people themselves. The topics enunciated in the letters worked their way into discussions that Ben-Gurion held with the adult population in his public speeches. Some of the questions that the teens asked in their direct dialogue with the leader still remain on the Israeli social agenda in one form or another.
In response to Ben-Gurion’s exhortation to make the wilderness blossom, young people wondered whether the kibbutz model was the best way to go about it. Would it not be better for the state and its needs to pursue higher education? 28
Another question that arose in this context concerned the ability of the young to spearhead the change and the extent of responsibility that adults and the leader himself should assume in order to assure progress in the state building enterprise. A letter from Amos Oz, a 14-year-old Scout, is the most familiar artifact in this part of the dialogue. 29
After Ben-Gurion demanded that the youth movements collaborate under an umbrella framework and expected them to support the establishment of a state youth movement, some correspondents expressed their fear of authoritarian processes. They claimed that this would blur ideological differences among social groups and turn adolescents into objects of authority—tools for the attainment of practical objectives at the cost of democratic principles such as freedom of association and expression. These apprehensions were expressed explicitly, although somewhat hesitantly, in a letter from counselors of Mapai-associated youth movements. The counselors responded to initiative challenge that Ben-Gurion had presented them: the establishment of a state youth movement mainly for immigrant youth. They disapproved of the intention of organizing such a movement under the banner of the pre-military youth organization, on the grounds that this would give it a fundamentally undemocratic military and hierarchical texture. 30
Ben-Gurion responded to all comers. Letters were answered whether they expressed assent or dissent, whether their claims accorded with his point of view or whether he considered them evidence of total misunderstanding of something he had said, and even when they exuded spite and derision. 31 Below we examine some of these responses.
“Don’t be so fault-finding with the young,” Ben-Gurion replied to the girl who had decried the teenagers’ tendency to hedonism and degeneracy. “Do what you feel is right in terms of the pioneering role of the young—go to rural settlement … don’t talk to the young—do something!” 32 In another letter he denied youth criticism: “The young people whom I know have no less of an ‘ideological basis’ and are no less into pioneering than anyone else in the country.” 33
As for choosing between rural settlement and higher education, Ben-Gurion had the following to say to Menahem Fluck and his friends: “We undoubtedly need scientists and experts, but not every expert scientist can benefit us. If he’s divorced from our reality and our creative endeavors, his ‘expertise’ is dubious and may even be barren and negative.” The experts to whom Ben-Gurion referred were those who “disparage almost everything we’re doing in this country because our labors and the conditions under which they are carried out do not match what’s written in the books.” He then contrasted them to experts, who were products of “our labors and creative endeavors,” who acted by dint of experience “and not just from books.” 34
To Amos Oz, who urged Ben-Gurion to display greater involvement and take more responsibility for leading the young, the leader explained that the state could not order its citizens to devote themselves to immigrant absorption and pioneering rural settlement. 35
As for his perspective on meeting with the youth movement counselors and the possibility of establishing a state youth movement, Ben-Gurion expressed himself in a letter to his colleague Zalman Aranne, secretary of Mapai and minister without portfolio at the time. He had not, he explained, referred to this option in the sense of a movement that would provide “only pre-military training.” Instead, he had in mind an entity that would educate in four matters—to be a person, a Jew, a pioneer, and a warrior. The target population of such an entity, he specified, would be composed of working and immigrant youth. 36
A deeper look at the roles that Ben-Gurion intended for youth gives the impression that he had a typical pattern in mind: that of a revolutionary leader who wishes to secure the achievements of his revolution. If, however, we follow the path that leads to the fulfillment of these all-embracing objectives, we find a unique pattern of mobilization via dialogue—a direct dialogue between a leader and his young followers, those who at that juncture were neither decision makers nor officials.
It was not a self-evident choice on Ben-Gurion’s part. He had ample access to the instruments of leadership and state—the army, the Ministry of Education, and the legislature—and indeed, he would reassume the premiership slightly more than a year later. He could have used these instruments, not to speak of vehicles of propaganda and indoctrination, to create a mechanism for action and authority. Ben-Gurion, however, opted for didactic methods. He wrote letters, met with students, youth-movement counselors, and high-schoolers, convened large encounters in which he had to answer difficult questions, and contended with media coverage that was not always sympathetic.
The “Affair” crisis: Dialogue with the public—A tactical error?
Seven years later, on January 1961, Ben-Gurion resigned the premiership again. Unlike his resignation in 1953, which the public perceived not as a provocative act but rather almost as a human necessity, his demarche this time, triggered by the Lavon Affair', 37 was prompted by remonstration and protest (Bar-Zohar, 1977: 1508–1509). 38
It is not my intention here to revisit the Lavon affair and the crisis that flowed from it as Ben-Gurion’s supporters and Lavon’s fell into a political and public schism. Others have dealt with these matters and will continue to do so (Kedar, 2009: 283–290; Yanai, 1982: 99–184; Weitz, 1999). Instead, I will focus on the pattern of dialogue with the public that Ben-Gurion chose to pursue at this critical moment and its contentual surroundings in view of the schism.
Now, as in 1954, Israelis reacted to the leader’s demonstrative act by inundating his desk with letters. 39 Again, young people—high-schoolers, university students, and even soldiers—were represented among the correspondents. Alongside them, however, we find the voices of an older public, unsurprisingly, since the agenda was peppered with questions pertaining to governing stability and the limits of democracy. Salient among these correspondents were bereaved parents and recent immigrants who now, in contrast to the early 1950s, joined the circle of participants in direct dialogue with the leader.
Several examples follow. A bereaved mother told Ben-Gurion that reading the daily press “breaks my heart. […] Obviously a nation’s existence doesn’t revolve around one man but there are fateful situations in which the great leader must not […] lift his hands from the helm.” 40
Alongside the manifestations of support, Ben-Gurion was criticized for his very decision to resign, one that was perceived as irresponsible if not selfish. A Tel Aviv high-schooler warned of the “undesirable” results that his resignation might have. She urged him to keep up the fight. 41 One woman likened the State of Israel to “a baby who has just begun to walk” and implored, “Please don’t let us fall.” 42 The criticism was sometimes accompanied by harsh remarks such as “You’ve let us down,” 43 “What a shame that you’ve unnecessarily besmirched your image and Israel’s abroad,” 44 or “You blundered by falling into [Lavon’s] trap,” 45 or demands that he complete the task that he had begun: “You started a job—finish it.” 46
Some correspondents reprimanded the leader: students insisted that he “transcend the petty-minded attitudes that ordinary people can allow themselves […] but not people of stature like you.”
47
Haim Yosef of the Sha’ariya immigrants’ quarter issued a unique cry of distress that was intertwined with a scolding, a number of complaints, and the demand that Ben-Gurion stay on and remain responsible for the enterprise that he had launched, i.e. mass immigration: I read in the newspaper […]. My head spun at that moment: how can you leave your Jews, the Jewish people, in midstream? […] We came [here] in the name of God […]. We arrived in ships and we fell into debt and we fell into little tenements with families of ten […] As if our worries weren’t enough, you’re making the Jewish people so worried about the resignation of the Prime Minister […]. We totally oppose the resignation. Mr. David Ben-Gurion. If you quit, we will also quit the Land of Israel and you’ll be sending us back to [the Diaspora] and we, several families, are standing on one leg and do not agree to the resignation of Mr. David Ben-Gurion. We oppose the resignation […].
48
Haim Yosef’s criticism reflected dread over the founding father’s departure. Other correspondence at the time, however, criticized Ben-Gurion’s conduct in the crisis, i.e. his so-called “silence” and the fact that others were interpreting his views for the public: “Things have been said in your name—and you say nothing.” 49 A correspondent from Beersheva headed his letter with the word “Explanation” and implored Ben-Gurion to face the media and explain his position 50 . An engineer from Tel Aviv wrote, “Please… go on the radio, speak to the nation, and explain where you stand.” Reminding Ben-Gurion of the influence of Churchill’s speeches during Second World War, he stated that the current crisis entailed a direct appeal to the public over the airwaves. 51
At this juncture as in the past, Ben-Gurion insisted on answering the correspondence. As if trying to compensate for his media silence, he repeatedly advised the complainers of where he stood on the Lavon affair and explained the motives for his resignation. 52 The larger issue that Ben-Gurion wished to bring up at this time, however, was that the committee of ministers, that had rehabilitated Lavon, violated the binding democratic principle of the separation of powers. Such conduct, he claimed, breached “the underlying constitution of a democratic state.” 53 The implicit educational message in this correspondence is self-evident: Most of the public had not experienced democratic rule in its countries of origin but now, Ben-Gurion hoped, it would learn about democracy from the Affair; thus, “May sweetness emerge from bitterness.” 54
In response to those who expressed anxiety over his abandonment of the helm, Ben-Gurion stressed the democratic principle of elections and the succession of leaders. He reminded Malka Bartan that citizens of a democracy must respect the majority’s decision even if they consider it mistaken. 55 Writing to the immigrants in Sha’ariya who hinted that they might emigrate, he said, “Don’t emigrate because there is only one Land of Israel, the only one in the world, but there may be any number of prime ministers.” 56
Ben-Gurion also replied to the critics who frowned on his way of coping. 57 He described the Media publications as “false rumors and made-up stories” promised to reveal the truth in the future. 58 At this juncture, as upon his retirement to Sede Boqer, Ben-Gurion leveraged his dialogue and interaction with the public, which had spiked due to the activity surrounding his resignation, to expound on what he regarded as Israel’s next challenge. In the front-and-center issue was the concept of “democracy.” Ben-Gurion viewed the debate surrounding this tenet and its implementation as a positive derivative of the crisis, one made possible by his unmediated dialogue with diverse citizens.
The Six-Day War —New reality, new goals
In the weeks following the Six-Day War, 59 Ben-Gurion was again inundated with letters from Israelis of different persuasions, reacting to views that he had expressed about the implications of the war in various forums, mainly an announcement he made in the press. 60
The discussion that follows sheds light on several salient topics in the dialogue that evolved between Israelis and the now-aged leader, whose parliamentary candidate list, Rafi, had joined the National Unity Government even though Ben-Gurion himself remained a rank-and-file Member of Knesset who generally avoided involvement in parliamentary affairs and policymaking. 61
An important topic that prompted citizens to react concerned the disposition of the territories that Israel had occupied in the war, particularly the West Bank and the Golan Heights. A second matter was how the war would affect the future development of Jerusalem, with special emphasis on the question of unifying the previously partitioned city and demolishing the Old City walls.
The familiar pattern recurred: citizens of various socioeconomic classes and ages wrote to Ben-Gurion with their responses. At this time, a historical crossroads of hope and fear for the future, most of the letters responded directly to remarks that Ben-Gurion had made in public forums or was quoted as having said in the daily press. Many of the respondents related to a press release that he had published about a week after the end of the war, stating, “We should be prepared to discuss peace with all our neighbors who fought against us: Egypt, Syria, Jordan, and Iraq. However, I am not sure the other side is willing to [reciprocate].” 62 As for the future of Jerusalem, he left no doubt about where he stood: “We will not discuss the Old City of Jerusalem and its environs with anyone. [Jerusalem] has been the capital of Israel since King David’s time—and so it will remain forever […].” 63
Turning to the West Bank, he proposed: The inhabitants of the West Bank [should be offered the option of] electing representatives with whom we will negotiate autonomy in a West Bank (excluding Jerusalem and its environs) that would be connected with the State of Israel by an economic treaty and receive an outlet to the Mediterranean Sea at Haifa, Ashdod, or Gaza; a Jewish army will be positioned on the western bank of the Jordan River to defend the independence of the autonomous West Bank.
64
Addressing the future of the Syrian Heights, Ben-Gurion believed, at this time, that If Syria agrees to conclude a peace treaty with us and undertakes to prevent all attacks on Israeli localities by its inhabitants or by any other party emanating from its territory—we should vacate the [part of the] Syrian Heights that is in our possession.
65
About a month later, after visiting the plateau, Ben-Gurion changed his mind, referred to the area as the Golan Heights, and spoke of the need to settle it. 66 A day after disclosing his official principled stance on the newly captured territories, Ben-Gurion addressed the Rafi Central Committee about the reunification of Jerusalem and mentioned, for the first time in an official forum, the idea of tearing down the Old City walls. 67
Citizens usually responded disapprovingly to Ben-Gurion’s positions on the West Bank and the Golan Heights because they considered them overly generous. “In regard to the West Bank, you said it should become an autonomous Palestinian state connected to Israel by economic ties,” wrote Shlomo Ben-Hiyya, a member of Mapai from Tiberias. “I concur but I’m concerned that such a state would endanger our state as long as the other Arab states do not come to grips with the fact that Israel is an existing state and they must recognize it […].” 68
Shmuel Pe’er, who defined himself as a traditional and non-partisan Reform Jew,
69
was also troubled by the idea of Arab autonomy on the West Bank: Every Jewish heart would consider it a terminal blow to hear this thing from the leader of our generation. After some 2000 years… we liberated (not occupied) a small part of the territory of our Land of Israel from foreign occupation so that we, too, can say that although our country is small, it has borders within which one can live freely and peaceably.[…]
70
A senior citizen named Avituv, a Tel Aviv municipal employee, reminded Ben-Gurion that it was the second time that he was “willing to give up all the territories that were liberated in our promised land.” The correspondent wondered how Ben-Gurion could expect “sustainable [peace] among the peoples that surround us” in view of his familiarity with the Book of Books. 71 Criticism of Ben-Gurion’s ostensible willingness to relinquish patriarchal territories also surfaced in remarks by Ran Yishai of Bnei Brak, an Orthodox Jew if one may judge by the style and contents of his writings. Yishai asked in bewilderment, “Are Judah and Ephraim something other than the patrimony of our forefathers?” 72 Yishai enriched his letter with abundant quotations from the Bible, including some referring to the borders of the Land of Israel, and emphasized that since these borders had been occupied first by the Arabs and afterwards by the British, occupation is not a principle that rules out an entitlement to the territory occupied. “It follows that the occupier-liberator-victor is the one who posts the signs and draws the limits and the boundaries.” 73
Zvi Ben-Erev of Ayelet Hashahar (a collective settlement in the Upper Galilee—PK) put forward a security-related argument, reminding Ben-Gurion that “We’ve been given a never-to-recur opportunity to attain natural borders and reasonable room for self-defense.” He recounted an outing that he had taken in the West Bank with fellow members of his kibbutz. Encountering unpopulated areas where there had been an intention of settling Arab refugees. 74
Another facet of the territories question pertained to the Golan Heights. This aspect deserves special attention because Ben-Gurion himself changed his mind about it within a few weeks, from favoring withdrawal to opposing it. 75 The question here is whether Ben-Gurion’s dialogue with the public, or may we say, pressure from public, paid off in this case.
Binyamin Nahari of Haifa remarked: “One must bear in mind the special situation concerning the Syrian Heights, which dominate all of our settlements in the valley below the ridge and are under constant threat from Syrian forces on the ridge.” 76 Hence his conclusion, which he shared with Ben-Gurion: even if Israel and Syria sign a peace treaty, Israel should retain “the whole plateau.” 77
Here and there, citizens expressed support for Ben-Gurion’s Palestinian autonomy idea. Avraham Weinshal, an attorney and a founding member of the right-wing Zionist Revisionist Movement in the 1920s, seconded Ben-Gurion’s idea that “Responsibility should be taken for solving the refugee problem under Israeli supervision.” For this purpose, he proposed the establishment of autonomous demilitarized areas that would eventually be granted self-rule. 78 Aharon Schulz of Eilat proposed an Israeli protectorate as the preferred model. 79
“I understand your opposition to autonomy on the West Bank,” replied Ben-Gurion to Pe’er, But you are ignoring the fact that some one million Arabs are sitting on the [West] Bank and it’s unthinkable that we will dispossess them by force or deprive them of civil rights—and if we annex the West Bank to the state of Israel—we may within a few years become a state with an Arab majority.
80
Ben-Gurion sent the same message to Avituv. Conversely, he ruled out the possibility of annexing the West Bank and depriving its inhabitants of civil rights or deporting them. Therefore, he proposed “autonomy” and not “sovereignty […] and if Jews wish to settle in the West Bank, they may do so,” he wrote. 81
As for the Golan Heights, Ben-Gurion’s thinking changed direction in late August, after he visited the area. 82 In his first public statements and in his replies to citizens in the weeks following the war, however, he adhered to his view that the “Syrian Heights” should serve as a bargaining chip for peace negotiations with Syria. In response to Binyamin Nahari’s criticism, Ben-Gurion did express profound doubt about the possibility that Syria is indeed “able and willing to discuss peace with us.” In the same breath, however, he asserted that if Syria failed to keep its word about refraining from attacking the Israeli localities after signing such an accord [and getting the Heights back—PK), then “We’ll take the Golan Heights back.” 83
Ben-Gurion rewarded Ram Yishai’s religious rationale with a serious and practical response: If the Jews in the previous century had not only repeated the saying ‘next year in Jerusalem’ but had come and settled in the Land of Israel and formed a majority there, we would not need wars; instead, the entire Land of Israel would be in our hands.
Since the parts of the country that Yishai listed in his letter were largely Arab-populated, “It seems to me that as long as the Messiah hasn’t arrived, we’ll have to live—if only the neighbors assent to it—in peace with our neighbors and content ourselves with the western Land of Israel for now.” 84
Zvi Ben-Erev’s security and demographic rationales received the following response: The question is not this or that territory but rather urgent action by the government [emphasis in the original—PK] to bring [Jewish] immigrants and settle all the empty areas (of which there are many throughout the Land of Israel[…]
85
In these remarks, expressed around two months after the end of the war, one may discern a shifting of the epicenter of his attention from the international policy affairs to the practicalities of creating a new reality by settling the land and inducing mass ‘aliya from the West.
As for the future of Jerusalem, there seems to have been a broad consensus about the reunification of the city; Ben-Gurion’s remarks about the need to settle it with Jews also triggered little disputation or doubt. 86 In contrast, his idea about destroying the Old City walls to ensure the city’s reunification—preserved in the Israeli collective memory as an eccentricity—prompted many correspondents to react for or against. Shoshana Zahavi of Jerusalem was aghast, as were (she said) “many, many others,” to hear Ben-Gurion speak of the need to destroy the walls of the Old City of Jerusalem. She dismissed Ben-Gurion’s claim that the walls impeded reunification and argued that if the Old City were to be “settled with Jews, it would remain part of the Hebrew city […].” As for the sanctity of the wall, Zahavi professed to feel the “holy trembling” that pertains to antiquities, especially the kind that are mentioned in Scripture. 87 Another respondant claimed that Jerusalem had had walls in King David’s time as well. 88 Other citizens, however, endorsed Ben-Gurion’s idea as well as his opinion of the walls as an obstacle to the city’s reunification and wholeness. 89 Some suggested a compromise: demolish only part of the wall and leave all the gates in place. 90
Many are wont to write off the idea of knocking down the Old City walls, as proposed by Ben-Gurion shortly after the war, as an eccentricity. His serious treatment of the criticism that he attracted on this account, however, and his care in replying to citizens who attempted to prove that the walls were sacred and integral to the city, indicate that he viewed the idea as part of a comprehensive program that would assure the city’s unity going forward. “We must now make the new and old Jerusalem an eternal united city,” he advised Shoshana Zahavi. 91 He offered Yosef Levi a complete program, including the settlement of some 100,000 Jews around the Old City and the demolition of the walls, “which are neither holy nor needed.” Ben-Gurion repeated his reasoning to Levi too: the walls are secular in nature and the Old and New cities should be reconstituted as “one city [emphasis in the original—PK] with no barrier whatsoever.” 92
Direct dialogue—A “two-way interaction process” of leadership?
What may one understand or adduce from the interaction between Ben-Gurion and the Israeli public? Does it illuminate one more mildly innocuous element in his personality? Did Ben-Gurion waste his time by bothering to approach individuals instead of issuing clarion calls to the masses? Were these letters part of an attempt on the leader’s part to go over the heads of the political establishments, the media, and the various forums—straight into the hearts of average Israelis? Might it have succeeded? And if it did, how can we tell?
If we contemplate only the three junctures investigated above, we may easily accept the claim that the direct-dialogue strategy did not necessarily prove effective in the short term. Young people did not throng to the Negev just because Ben-Gurion exhorted them to be pioneers in the early 1950s. The achievements of Mapai and its helmsman, Ben-Gurion, in the summer 1961 elections, held in the shadow of “the Affair,” were scanty compared with those of the previous campaign. And the rhetoric about setteling greater Jerusalem did not necessarily sink in and find practical expression during Ben-Gurion’s lifetime.
Nevertheless, I find it historically valuable to probe this interaction, both as a means of tracking “public sentiment”—voices that are rarely heard in the media, voices audible in closed social circles, informal talks among friends—and as a way to reveal the leader’s agenda, the one that he initiated and promoted. In the foregoing case studies, these tasks were civil pioneering, democracy, and the approach towards the settlement of newly accessible parts of the country. These were missions that Ben-Gurion identified at the three points of time discussed, prompted by immediate events of the day and his interaction with the public at large.
Let us return to the theoretical background and, more specifically to the framework proposed by Sheer: LMX as a behavioral construct linked to other components of the leadership phenomenon. In the course of this study, I will point out only one, the quality of “leader–member relations.” The empirical data presented above demonstrate the existence of such quality as it emerges from the correspondence and due to the dyadic exchange that took place in this interactive process. The correspondents, I wish to claim, generated a “two-way interaction process” that, as such, allowed such a quality of relations to take shape. It is assumed that an effective leadership process occurs when leaders and followers are able to develop mature “leadership” relations and partnerships. Thus viewed, the findings of this study demonstrate the existence of such a process at several levels. At the most elemental level, they show that a relationship did take shape between the leader and his followers, spanning a wide social spectrum and a broad range of topics that mattered to Israelis and Ben-Gurion in the years at issue. The pattern of dialogue that the correspondence elicited gives evidence of the existence of what leadership scholars call a dyadic relationship. That is, the leader answered most of the letters addressed to him and the Israel public “knew” that these messages would be answered.
If we accept the premise of this study, that the correspondence did create a dyadic relationship between the leader and his followers, then we may state that the parties to this relationship had dyadic effects on each other, possibly yielding dyadic trust, respect, and commitment to the assimilation of the shared goals (Graen and Uhl-Bien, 1995: 233), and presumingly leading to a more inclusive and comprehensive act of leadership. On this basis, additional studies may reconsider other levels of DBG’s leadership—crucial decisions, policies implemented, and the long-term consequences of these decisions and policies. In the course of such a reconsideration, one can use Sheer’s suggestions as a tool with which to track the affects of LMX on role development processes, relationship quality, and “employee” (i.e. citizen) outcomes (Sheer, 2015: 222–224). According to Graen and Uhl-Bien, followers who participate in a dyadic relationship with their leader, such as the one described in this study, are more likely to demonstrate willingness to be involved in activities that the organization does not officially consider compulsory; they are even amenable to risk taking and displays of good citizenship. Graen and Uhl-Bien summarize this point by saying that the higher the quality of the relationship, the more effective the leadership process is.
An important clarification is needed: the attempt made here to apply the LMX model in order to probe the dyadic relationship that the leader, Ben-Gurion, developed with his followers in Israel does not overlook the obvious differences between this relationship and leadership relations within a defined organization such as a workplace or another setting that limits the number of participants. However, the contents of the citizens’ letters do reveal the existence of the three dimensions that the LMX model specifies: respect, trust, and commitment (Sheer, 2015: 237–238); they also identify DBG’s leadership pattern as a “two-way interaction process” by which “the leader and the member co-contribute to the leadership process” (Sheer, 2015: 221)
In conclusion, then, David Ben-Gurion did maintain a social-exchange relationship with his followers—one that presumably influenced both his standing as a leader and, no less, the level of commitment and trust that the citizenry invested in him and the “organization” that he headed—the state.
Footnotes
Acknowledgement
The author would like to thanks Naftali Greenwood for the translation of this article.
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: This study was supported by the Social Sciences and Research Council of Canada.