The Forgotten Anti-Apartheid Seders

Significantly, the second Freedom Sederwas the first time Tutu spoke on a Jewish platform in South Africa.13 One committee member, Dr Sally Frankental, remembered the excitement that many in JFJ felt about his doing so. It gave credibility to JFJ, she said, that it had “the ability [to] invite and have the invitation accepted” by such people.14 Tu t u is considered to have spoken well, clearly and charmingly. He started with a light-hearted joke, which lessened the perceived host il it y.15 His tone quickly became more serious. The “suffering of the majority in South Africa” was compared to “the ancient Jewish experience of oppression in Egypt”.16Being the “chosen people”, he emphasized, implied responsibility and not privilege.17Much of the language that Tutu used was akin to that of Liberation Theology, such as citing the Bible as being a ‘subversive’ text, stating that “God is concerned with the underprivileged and the oppressed” and that “the God of the Exodus is a God of liberation”.18 Davis later recalled how patient Tutu was in his conduct and how willing he was to answer any questions directed towards him.19

the invitation accepted” by such people.14 Tu t u is considered to have spoken well, clearly and charmingly. He started with a light-hearted joke, which lessened the perceived host il it y.15 His tone quickly became more serious. The “suffering of the majority in South Africa” was compared to “the ancient Jewish experience of oppression in Egypt”.16Being the “chosen people”, he emphasized, implied responsibility and not privilege.17Much of the language that Tutu used was akin to that of Liberation Theology, such as citing the Bible as being a ‘subversive’ text, stating that “God is concerned with the underprivileged and the oppressed” and that “the God of the Exodus is a God of liberation”.18 Davis later recalled how patient Tutu was in his conduct and how willing he was to answer any questions directed towards him.19

The last Freedom Seder was held in 1988. As he was preparing for his imminent immigration to Australia, Rabbi Franklin was not involved, and this event was not the same without his enthusiasm and drive. It also meant the absence of an Orthodox rabbi to lead the liturgy. The ‘88 Freedom Seder’s structure was limited to the two speakers and questions from the f loor.20 Although the speakers were still inf luential (they included, the then president of the Black Sash, Mary Burton), the event had lost much momentum.

Why are these Seders significant?

The Exodus carries great religious and historical weight for the Jewish people, and indeed, is one of the core events of Judaism. Although we highlight the event of Passover, it is expressed through other holidays (such as Sukkot) and countless times in the Scriptures. We are reminded not to be harsh with the foreigner, to be righteous, to hate injustice and to ultimately recognise that we owe our salvation and freedom to God. The Exodus narrative, therefore, identifies what we are supposed to do (individually and communally), because God did it for us first.

The Exodus also has cultural importance. Internationally, the Seder is arguably the most widely practiced Jewish ceremony.21This is also true of South Africa. A census in the mid-1970s showed that 94% of South African Jewry celebrated the Seder meal in some form. This can be contrasted with a study done twenty years later, in which 93% took part.22 It is also arguably one of the most visible Jewish holidays in South Africa. This not only indicates a wide awareness of the tradition, but implies that the Seder was prevalent in the South African Jewish consciousness in the 1980s.

The members of JFJ were aware of the Seder’s religious, cultural and historical importance. It was recognised as the appropriate time to focus on the plight of oppressed people. This was ref lected in interviews, newsletters and the Freedom Seder’s Haggadah.23 The Haggadah framed the Seder as traditionally being “designed …. to stimulate many questions” as “it is [one’s] duty to be informed and to inform ot he r s”.24 The religious relevance meant that the impetus to fight apartheid was not framed as being ‘militant’ or ‘political’, but rather as a religious duty. This created a “safe space” at the Freedom Seders, for many would not have been “seen dead” at any other JFJ event.25 This religious duty would either be encouraged by conviction (“because we were slaves in Egypt”) or by recognising cognitive dissonance (the fact that the Jewish community had been celebrating freedom in an oppressive system).26 For this reason, Davis argued that the Seders were the “most profound in terms of a direct engagement with the community”.27 Theysucceeded because a Jewish organisation was engaging with a Jewish audience about a political issue through a Jewish framework. By highlighting an absence of freedom in the framework of Jewish tradition, the Seder mobilisation around an anti-apartheid message was clearer and more easily received.

As recounted above, both Boesak and Tutu addressed this issue of religious duty during their talks. Liberation Theology started in the 1960s in reaction to apartheid, peaking in the mid-1980s.28 As a result, this time saw a spike in religiously-motivated political groups (most of which were involved in the UDF). They were so prevalent that by 1986, Davis argued that every major religious or ethnic group had responded to apartheid “in terms of their own heritages”.29 JFJ, formed in 1985, was the first Jewish organisation to actively resist apartheid. It asserted that Judaism had a lot to offer in terms of social justice and morality, that apartheid was unjust and that it was their imperative to act.30 Some JFJ members were considered trouble-makers and dissidents.31 They were criticised for singling themselves out as a Jewish organisation that actively resisted apartheid, told that it was dangerous to draw attention to the Jewish community and reminded that there had “never been a shortage of Jews” involved in the Struggle.32 So why did the mid-1980s see a rise in Jewish activism? It can be viewed in light of several compounded factors, such as increased Jewish support for the National Party; a perceived communal silence on apartheid; international activism; new and proactive leadership; and passionate South African Jews who felt that their causes were not represented in the community.

It is also worth reiterating the role of fear, as it dictated much of the behaviour of JFJ members and the Jewish community at large. The Holocaust, already a formative event in the identity of South African Jews, and a history of discrimination both fuelled and hindered anti-apartheid activism. This religious activism in reaction to apartheid (and its responses) raised an important question for the Cape Town Jewish community in the 1980s: For whom was it responsible? This highlights the tensions between “universalist ideals” (helping all people) versus “Jewish particularity” (looking out for the Jewish population first).33 Boesak and Tutu (as well as many JFJ members) argued that the Jewish community should fight against all injustices.

Although the Freedom Seder was the first of its kind in South Africa, the notion of Seders speaking to current concerns had started some sixty years before. The “Third Seder” – as opposed to the religious first or second night – was usually conducted in a public space and was traditionally held either before or during the intermediate days of Passover. The first Third Seders were held at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel in New York in the 1920s. Early on, they were secularised and ref lected contemporary issues.34 In the 1960s, the Third Seder was actively used as a tool of protest and awareness. For example, the concept of a “Freedom Seder” was used both by the Civil Rights movement and the American Soviet Jewry movement. By drawing on the themes of slavery and freedom, these ritualisations could focus on political causes without straying from the essence of a Seder. In contrast, the only Third Seders in South Africa until the mid-1980s were in memory of the Holocaust. Although this was a poignant way to commemorate it, there was no need to persuade toward political activism. Because the Freedom Seder, as a concept, was probably unfamiliar to most South African Jews, the impact would have been more powerful, especially as it highlighted personal responsibilities.

Despite the Freedom Seder being novel, the comparisons between modern-day oppressions and Israelites’ slavery was very familiar. The reasons for these comparisons differed: to raise money, to encourage Aliyah, to educate, and so on. By the 1970s, this had become a common occurrence, with popular comparisons being to the Soviet Jewry’s plight and the brutality of the Holocaust. The comparison between the oppressive regimes in South Africa and ancient Egypt gained momentum in the 1980s. This strengthened to the degree that even the SA Jewish Board of Deputies used the analogy – for example, in a statement titled “Pesach Freedom Statement”. According to the report, it was a “matter of concern that not everyone enjoyed the same degree of freedom”. While freedom was associated with the Jewish people’s “delivery from Egyptian bondage, the concept is universal and also applies to mankind”.35 This Exodus-apartheid analogy grew to such a degree that Chief Rabbi Harris addressed it in one of his editorials in 1988.36 He wrote that an imagination was central to appreciating the lessons of Passover and for promoting Jewish causes. However, Rabbi Harris also argued that clichéd analogies could make people blasé to causes. His editorial shows that the community was overly-familiar with the vast use of Exodus analogies in this time frame. It is, therefore, through the arguably clichéd framework of Exodus analogies, that the creation of Seder mobilisation was to be expected. Such mobilisation would refresh the use of analogy by appropriating it in a different way. This was even emphasised during the Freedom Seders. At the 1986 Freedom Seder, Simon hinted at new ways of appropriating the Exodus narrative when he stated that there was fresh interpretation of Passover and that the symbols were being re-examined.

The JFJ Freedom Seders only lasted for three years, between 1986 and 1988. Why was this so? The answer is simple. Some of those interviewed for this article argue that JFJ should have started ten years before it did. However, because it was only formed in the mid-80s, there was little chance of any Freedom Seder happening before then. Because of the nature of the organisation, a Freedom Seder was the perfect tool to reach the Jewish community. The added pressure of Rabbi Franklin moving to Australia left the organisation without a clear mission or leadership. Finally – and most obviously – Apartheid ended within years of JFJ starting. The Seders were created to draw attention to the lack of freedoms in the nation. With the unbanning of political parties and the release of political prisoners (most notably Nelson Mandela) in 1990, there was little need for them to continue. This did not mean the end of the “Freedom Seder” as a concept, however. For the next 30 years, the South African Freedom Seders would go on to celebrate, to promote, to mobilise and to educate. Some notable Seders have celebrated the end of apartheid, championed the interfaith movement and have drawn attention to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.