On
a recent Sunday in New York City, my family and I went on a walk that
turned from a nice neighborhood stroll into a survey of our current
state of institutional security.
First,
we passed a synagogue with three armed guards outside; they had
earpieces firmly in place and looked furtively around. Another shul had
two armed guards, a set of locked doors, and more security cameras than
your average bank vault. The Jewish community center had concrete
bollards on the sidewalk—the sort you’d find in front of the American
embassy in a European country—and a metal detector greeting you as soon
as you walked in the door. According to recently available data, a
typical Jewish organization spends about 14% of its overall budget on
security, with the total communal expenditure now reaching $765
million—every year.
It
doesn’t take a brilliant strategist to understand why these measures
are in place. We all know the statistics showing a sharp spike in
antisemitism, and we can all speak intelligently about the most recent
attempt—in Detroit, in Denver, you name it—to harm Jews wherever we
congregate.
What
I want to propose here, without everyone losing their minds, is that
our approach to communal security is creating more vulnerability—of all
kinds.
Spend some time in the real world, and you realize that communities tend to fall into one of two categories: Paris or Texas.
Step
back for a moment and think about the meaning of a heavily fortified
synagogue guarded by professional sentries. This image sends two clear
messages. To our fellow citizens, it says that it is normal for Jews in
the United States to require extensive security in order to safely
practice their religion. This is a radical departure from this country’s
self-conception; indeed, Jewish vulnerability is part of a wider
collective of societal trends—district attorneys that don’t prosecute
criminals, mayors doxing private citizens, etc.—all threatening
America’s claim to be the freest nation in the world.
Perhaps
even more toxically, though, is the message it drills into Jewish
children. By turning our communal centers into well-fortified bunkers,
we’re teaching our children that it is normal to associate Jewish life
and identity with anxiety, with insecurity, with lack of confidence in
ourselves and in our neighbors. Faced with such conditions, we should
not be surprised when smart kids run as fast and as far away from our
airless fortresses as they can, while others remain depressingly in
place, too afraid to find any joy or meaning in their faith.
I can already hear you freaking out. But Liel, the threats are
real, and getting realer every day. Are you suggesting we live in la-la
land and pretend otherwise? What kind of parent would send their child
to a shul, a school, or a center unguarded and exposed? And what kind of
community would we be if we didn’t have a similar strategy?
I
am not, of course, suggesting mindlessness or irresponsible bravado.
What I am encouraging you to accept—because it is true—is that we
American Jews have gotten ourselves into a moral, spiritual, and
tactical arms race, one in which there can never be enough security
because the vulnerability we are allowing is ever expanding. More money
for more guards and bigger barricades isn’t the answer. There’s a better
way, one that not only delivers comparable protection but also does so
while instilling in ourselves and in our children a sense of agency,
purpose, and pride, and in our neighbors a sense of respect, however
begrudging.
Put
simply: We Jews must get serious about protecting ourselves. This
doesn’t mean firing every hired armed guard right away; it means
meaningfully transitioning into accepting that you are personally
responsible for protecting your institutions—a responsibility that
includes overcoming the psychological crutch of being protected by
others and then getting trained, armed, and involved.
Float this idea at your average Manhattan Shabbat table, and you’ll encounter a flurry of standard objections: You’re
talking about guns, right? Guns are dangerous! And bad! And useless to
boot: You expect the shul’s elderly gabbai to whip out his Glock and
shoot a bunch of bad guys?
These
objections are delivered almost as punch lines, as if the idea of an
armed and competent Jew defending his or her domain is so outrageous as
to be insane, even humorous.
The
answer to these objections is simple. Spend some time in the real
world—an undertaking that requires leaving New York City—and you realize
that communities tend to fall into one of two categories: Paris or
Texas.
In the former, la vie en rose
means going to shul and being greeted by a security detail right out of
a Jason Statham movie. Police cars, guards with Kevlar vests and
helmets and powerful rifles, trained dogs: The experience feels like
walking into a war zone, not a house of worship.
And
then there’s Texas, where some synagogues have a guard posted somewhere
on campus but don’t really need it because multiple gentlemen davening
inside have sidepieces tucked neatly into their tallis bag. As a result, the entire experience feels more open, normal, and free.
To this general observation, allow me to add one more report from the field.
These
past few months, I’ve been introducing my 12-year-old to firearms.
Anytime we tell this to certain Upper West Side friends, they look at us
as if we had confessed to child abuse. Instead, here’s what he’s
experienced at the range: First came the requisite lessons about safety.
Then the basics: grip, stance, aim, etc. Then familiarity with the
terrifying yet exhilarating experience of a small explosion unfurling in
his hands. And, finally, an emphasis on greater accuracy and
competence.
The
results are evident: The kid can shoot. Even more importantly, he
doesn’t fetishize guns, as so many of his inexperienced peers do. He now
understands them to be exactly what they are: incredible tools of
self-protection, to be used responsibly and only as needed. Raise a kid
that way, and chances are he or she will feel comfortable enough
stepping in, stepping up, and partaking in communal protection that
isn’t purchased, paranoid, and paralyzing, but integral and organic.
Here,
then, is my crazy idea. Imagine if instead of another influencer
campaign or conference about fighting anti-Zionism, we invested in
sending our children—at seventh grade or eighth or ninth—to Texas for a
week. Imagine that there, in some spacious ranch in Hill Country, these
kids spent a week with IDF and U.S. Marine Corps veterans learning the
foundations of self-defense. Imagine two or three days of intensive Krav
Maga basics. Imagine a day or two of learning to shoot.
What would such an endeavor achieve?
First,
it would show our children what we truly value. Just as so many of us
spend so much on tutors and tuition to ensure that our sons and our
daughters get into the best schools, so, too, we should now invest in
something without which that fancy education is worth nothing: a sense
of self-worth, mastery, and empowerment. I can’t think of anything
better to give a young adult about to enter the moment of massive
societal flux that our kids are currently facing.
Second,
it would help transform the community from one reliant on bloated and
comically inept organizations that fetishize victimhood to one
invigorated both by the spirit of service at every level and by the
understanding that the true promise of Zionism was never for Jews to be
safe—it was for Jews to be free.
Finally,
it would also very likely help deliver superior security solutions.
Consider the attack, last Yom Kippur, on the Heaton Park Hebrew
Congregation in Manchester, England: The attacker, Jihad al-Shamie,
began his rampage by ramming his vehicle into the security guard outside
the shul at 9:30 a.m. It took the police eight precious minutes to
arrive on the scene, open fire, and kill al-Shamie, eight minutes during
which the best the congregants inside could do was hold the door
tightly shut and hope that the demon on the other side did not possess a
weapon strong enough to force his way in. What would have happened if
he did? And what would have happened if the cops had taken even longer
to arrive?
If
it becomes widely understood and accepted that most synagogues are
filled with frightened, unarmed Jews who outsource their security, the
only barrier to a successful attack is getting through that one
single—and nowhere near impregnable—layer. If the public perception is
that most synagogues are stacked with well-regulated minyans of trained
shooters inside, that’s a much less appealing target.
There’s
little we can do to keep the barbarians from our gates. But we do have a
choice: Retreat into ever more guarded bunkers, cowering behind taller
walls and hiring the services of a growing phalanx of guards, or stand
tall and alert, vigilant and independent and unsubdued. It’s not very
hard to figure out which way lies true freedom.
https://www.tabletmag.com/sections/community/articles/armed-guards-jews-safety?