“To Escape the Warmongering of Strangers and Oppressors”

Beginning in August 1881, Jews in Russia established a number of associations whose members favored immigration to Palestine ('Ere ẓ Yisra'el, or the Land of Israel) over the United States because, to quote an 1882 letter by Yehudah Leib Levin, “their hopes had been betrayed”Footnote ⁷ by the recent pogroms and violence. At the same time, similar associations were established outside Russia as well. Many of their members, who referred to themselves collectively as Ḥovevei Ẓion, regarded immigration to 'Ereẓ Yisra'el not only as a solution to the plight of Russian Jews but as a national solution for the Jewish people as a whole.

A considerable portion of those joining the new associations came from the northwestern provincial towns of the Pale of Settlement, Lithuania, Belorussia, and various regions in Ukraine. These associations, which numbered more than twenty at the time and exceeded double that number by early 1882, were characterized by a relatively diverse social composition, including paupers, members of the bourgeoisie, and landlords. The first association appears to have been founded in Suwałki in the Białystok region on the Lithuanian border, and was named by its members Yesud Ha-ma‘alah (a name taken from Ezra 7:9, meaning, “he began to go up”). Additional Ḥovevei Ẓion associations were subsequently established in cities and towns in the northwestern Pale of Settlement and Ukraine.Footnote ⁸

These initial associations, which aimed “to go forth and take hold of the land of our forefathers and to work and preserve it,” were established for various reasons,Footnote ⁹ including: reports of the spread of violence in southern Russia, which took the members of the associations entirely by surprise; the lack of economic development and the extreme poverty in the areas in which they lived; the Orthodox religious outlook of most of the new members; and rumors of the difficulties that the first émigrés had encountered upon their arrival in America. “Our aim is to escape the warmongering of strangers and oppressors” and to find “serene repose” in 'Ereẓ Yisra'el, wrote Eliezer Altschuler, a leading member of one association, “for only departure for the land of our forefathers can resolve the Jewish question and save the thousands and tens of thousands expiring of hunger in the south of our land.”Footnote ¹⁰ Altschuler and his associates were not content with mere organizing and sought the immediate realization of their goals. Unlike the members of the associations in the large cities, who at this stage saw no need for the immediate actualization of their aspirations, the associations in the provincial towns felt the ground burning under their feet. Their severe economic predicament required radical change, which made them seek out “practical” activity that would hasten their relocation to Palestine.

Unlike the associations founded in the wake of the pogroms in the large cities, the members of these Ḥibbat Ẓion associations refrained from making public proclamations and issuing regulations and manifestos. They emphasized only one primary objective: to found an independent Jewish entity that would strive to achieve national independence, as articulated in the regulations of the Kibbuẓ Nidḥei Yisra'el (ingathering of the exiles of Israel) association in Minsk, whose members still had not determined whether they would immigrate to 'Ereẓ Yisra'el or the United States.Footnote ¹¹

Members of these associations did not publicly specify the ultimate objectives of the society that would take shape in Palestine. Would it adopt a socialist platform? Would the Jewish religion constitute the basis of life there? What kind of institutions would be established? What would it emphasize in its relations with its neighbors? These and other such questions went unanswered by the members of these associations. It was not only that everyone seemed to be occupied with the prospect of emigration and the process of settling in Palestine; they also simply had no interest in questions of this kind. A further reason to steer clear of such questions was the desire to avoid discord and debate: It was clear that the social and political common denominator uniting the associations' members was weak and grounded mainly in their aim of leaving Russia, and dealing with questions of this sort was bound to cause division and internal dissent.Footnote ¹² When regulations for the associations were promulgated at all, which was quite rare, they dealt with the practical aspects of immigration to Palestine and only generally with substantive aspects of the political entity to be established in the future.

In order to achieve their goals as quickly as possible, the heads of the Ḥibbat Ẓion associations appealed to a number of Jewish leaders in Palestine, whom they expected to support them. The most prominent leaders addressed by these letters were author and public activist Yeḥiel Mikhal Pines;Footnote ¹³ Ya‘akov Goldman, a public figure and correspondent of Ha-ẓefirah and He-'assif in Palestine; and Yehoshu‘a Leib Diskin, a leading rabbi in Jerusalem.Footnote ¹⁴ Their question for these leaders was whether the Ottoman authorities would in fact permit them to settle in Palestine, and, no less important, whether the country had the capacity to absorb newcomers. After receiving positive responses confirming their expectations from all three,Footnote ¹⁵ the associations decided to send emissaries to Palestine to assess firsthand whether immigration and the establishment of a new Jewish Yishuv in the country were at all possible. Eliezer Altschuler and Dov Breiman from Suwałki, and Zalman David Levontin from Kremenchug were among these emissaries, whose tasks included purchasing land,Footnote ¹⁶ gathering information, and reporting back on the opportunities that were realistically available in Palestine.Footnote ¹⁷

The association expected a great deal of the emissaries they sent to Palestine. As opposed to the large amount of information about settlement opportunities streaming in from the United States, information about Palestine was scant and consisted mainly of details that provided no indication of the feasibility of settlement in the country. It is therefore understandable why many members of the associations—whose number had meanwhile grown considerably, in some cases with membership reaching into the hundreds—waited with bated breath for the emissaries' responses, which they expected would provide them with the information they lacked.Footnote ¹⁸ The emissaries did not disappoint them. The letters they sent, some of which were published in the Hebrew press, described the great opportunities awaiting them in 'Ereẓ Yisra'el, painting a rosy picture of the situation in Palestine. For instance, in the letters he sent, which were published in Ha-shaḥar and Ha-magid, Levontin maintained that settlement in Palestine would encounter no difficulties from the authorities, who would permit the purchase and settlement of land, or from the Arabs, who owned the land. He also foresaw no problem with the climate of the country, which was “good and healthful, enabling a European to easily grow accustomed to it,”Footnote ¹⁹ nor the soil, which was “good and fertile” for many different crops.Footnote ²⁰

The information provided by the emissaries, who tried to encourage the associations' members to move to Palestine without delay, raised great expectations. If many within the associations had previously voiced doubts regarding the possibilities for the absorption of new arrivals, it now seemed that all misgivings had vanished. As a result, associations' membership continued to grow, and rumors now spread throughout the Pale of Settlement that the government would soon permit the establishment of societies to facilitate the departure of Jews from Russia—a plan that had recently been firmly dismissed by senior government officials such as Interior Minister Nikolay Ignatyev.Footnote ²¹

All this contributed to an atmosphere of tangible craving for emigration from Russia among the Jewish communities of the region.Footnote ²² In a number of towns, the associations began to collect money to send a core mission to PalestineFootnote ²³ in hope that hundreds and thousands would follow in their footsteps.Footnote ²⁴ At the same time, members of the associations began to address various problems they had previously ignored or of which they had been unaware, which were bound to arise upon moving to Palestine. A number of associations drew up agendas aiming to clarify how their goals were to be achieved after immigration. Many began to believe that intensive “practical” work would result in a drastic change in their standard of living in the near future.

*

It was in this context that Baron Horace (Herz) Guenzburg convened an assembly of Jewish notables to discuss the issue of emigration, which was something he had already done in the recent past. Once again, he asked the forty-eight heads of Jewish communities who gathered in St. Petersburg between April 8 and 20, 1882, to pass a number of resolutions condemning emigration. His actions stemmed from his concern that a call to regard emigration as legitimate, the acceleration of immigration to the United States, and the practical steps taken in Palestine by recent arrivals would increase the pressure on Jews in Russia to leave the country immediately. Proponents of emigration had just appealed to Guenzburg to support the various committees that had recently been established to help the émigrés, even though they were aware of his negative attitude toward emigration. The mounting pressure of thousands of Jews eager to leave Russia encouraged members of his close circle to accede to the numerous entreaties he had been sent.Footnote ²⁵ The baron's response to such requests was that he could not take steps opposed to his worldview unless they were supported by decisions reached at another convention of Jewish notables,Footnote ²⁶ apparently hoping that the assembly would issue a united call against emigration.Footnote ²⁷ At the second assembly, however, Guenzburg was unable to force his view on those in attendance. Emigration was a fact that he could neither deny nor condemn, even at an assembly completely under his control. In addition to a decision to send a memorandum to Czar Alexander III requesting that he put an end to the violence, the assembly passed another resolution calling on the Russian government to permit Jews who had been victimized by the pogroms to emigrate to other countries.Footnote ²⁸ This was a clear indication that emigration had become an integral part of the effort to assuage the Jewish predicament in Russia during this period.

BILU and Other Associations

In contrast to the associations that arose in the provincial towns of the northwestern Pale of Settlement and Ukraine, the membership of the associations established in large cities such as St. Petersburg, Moscow, Odessa, Kiev, Kharkov, Warsaw, and Vilna (as well as outside of Russia's borders, as in the case of Vienna) was socially homogeneous. Most members were intellectuals (maskilim) and members of the middle class—particularly young adults and studentsFootnote ²⁹—whose only wish, in the words of Mordekhai Ben Hillel Hakohen, one of their leading members, was “to achieve their serenity and their inheritance only at the top of Mt. Zion.” For example, the main objective of the dozens of young Jews who organized themselves in St. Petersburg to create the ’Aḥvat Ẓion (brotherhood of Zion) association, was to transmit information that would make it clear why immigration to Palestine was essential now, more than ever. They did not expect the immediate realization of the goals of the association but rather wished “to increase and enhance the knowledge possessed by the youth.” This activist orientation reflected the background of these new members, who were relatively comfortable economically. They gathered weekly at members' homes, “where they would discuss issues pertaining to the results of the [Zionist] idea.”Footnote ³⁰ In addition to their weekly meetings, group members gathered on holidays and special occasions to conduct ceremonies emphasizing their Jewish nationality.Footnote ³¹

The association established in Kharkov in early 1882 was exceptional in its activity. Its social makeup was similar to that of the associations in large cities, but its membership, which consisted of students and educated young adults, sought to put their ideas into action immediately. The members, who named their association BILU (an acronym of the verse, “House of Jacob, let us go [up],” Isaiah 2:5), aimedFootnote ³² to organize emigration from Russia to the United States or Palestine, and to create a well-functioning society that would radically alter the life experience of the Jews in their new country of residence.Footnote ³³ With this ultimate goal in mind, they attempted to establish a countrywide movement within the Pale of Settlement and dispatched some twenty emissaries to different townsFootnote ³⁴ to set up branches of the movement.Footnote ³⁵

The association soon numbered a few hundred members and at its peak in May 1882 reached a membership of 3,000. BILU's practical objectives attracted members from different types of localities, resulting in the establishment of seventeen associations in large cities and provincial towns alike.Footnote ³⁶ To enhance the efficiency of their work, the Kharkov leadership moved the association's head office to Odessa to more closely supervise the work of immigration and to be closer to the key activists of Ḥibbat Ẓion. Even then, at this early stage in the movement's development, the Odessa activists stood out as the leading and most energetic group within Ḥibbat Ẓion.Footnote ³⁷

In the summer of 1882, the association collapsed for all intents and purposes. With the exception of a handful of activists who moved to Palestine, including the members of the Constantinople office who formally announced the cessation of their activity as movement representatives and their intention to leave for Palestine,Footnote ³⁸ the association ceased to function.

The Ḥibbat Ẓion Associations in the Provincial Towns

At this critical juncture, the difference between the Ḥibbat Ẓion associations in the provincial towns and those established in the large cities became apparent. The despair that crippled the associations in the cities was hardly felt in the provincial towns, and the activity in the eighty-two associations that had been established the previous year in different cities and towns in Lithuania, Belorussia, and Ukraine continued as usual. The unrest had not penetrated that far. The difference between the various associations was a function of the difference in the temperaments of their members. The associations in the large cities, such as the BILU groups in Moscow and Kharkov, consisted of members who enjoyed relative socioeconomic security and were seeking a national solution to the Jewish problem. When this goal turned out to be unattainable, at least at the point in time when the Ottoman authorities made it clear that they would not permit Jewish immigrants to enter Palestine, the associations in the large cities could revert to their previous hopes of improving the lot of Russian Jewry. However, members of the Ḥibbat Ẓion associations in the provincial towns and medium-size cities, who were relatively worse off economically, sought drastic change to their predicament. For them the option of immigrating to Palestine remained as valid as ever. In their view, this dramatic change could be achieved only in 'Ereẓ Yisra'el, and for this reason they maintained that everything possible needed to be done to further immigration to Palestine.

The sense of confusion and helplessness that took hold of the Ḥibbat Ẓion associations, especially in the large cities, was the result of a combination of two seemingly opposite factors. On the one hand, the pogroms continued unabated. An especially violent outbreak in the city of Balta sent renewed shockwaves through the Jewish community. Moreover, on May 15, 1882, in accordance with the recommendation of the Committee to Examine the Condition of the Jews established by Interior Minister Nikolay Ignatyev, Czar Alexander III confirmed a series of “temporary laws” that further exacerbated the harsh plight of the Jews. Jews were now forbidden to settle or rent land in villages or to engage in commerce on Sundays.Footnote ³⁹ In addition to stripping a few thousand Jews of their means of livelihood, the May Laws provided yet another reminder of Russian Jewry's overall wretched situation. As the nineteenth century drew to a close, not only were pogroms still a recurring reality, but the central government was enacting laws that cast the Jews as playing a decisive role in provoking the violence. It placed special blame on those Jews whose livelihood depended on the villages. At the same time, the authorities took decisive action to stop the rioters.

One month after the promulgation of the May Laws, Interior Minister Ignatyev stepped down from his post, following accusations that “this evil Haman who hated the Jews,”Footnote ⁴⁰ as he was often referred to, was accused of fomenting the pogroms. Immediately following his appointment to the position, Count Dmitri Tolstoy, Ignatyev's replacement, ordered Russia's regional governors to prevent anti-Jewish violence at all costs.Footnote ⁴¹ Even more important was the fact that he authorized all those Jews who had been living outside the Pale of Jewish Settlement prior to April 15, 1880 to remain in their current places of residence. This was an unprecedented measure never before permitted by the authorities and forbidden yet again by the May Laws. At least for the time being, Tolstoy's policies were viewed as a positive turning point in the Russian authorities' attitude toward the Jews.Footnote ⁴² New members were appointed to the Committee on Jewish Affairs in addition to a prominent new chairman, Lev Makov, who had preceded Ignatyev as interior minister and was believed to be more tolerant of the Jews. This too was regarded as further proof of a positive change in the interior ministry's attitude.Footnote ⁴³

In the course of 1882, reports began to circulate of troubles experienced by Jewish émigrés in PalestineFootnote ⁴⁴ and the United States. It also became known that during the summer a few thousand Jews had returned to Russia. In light of these developments, many of those who had wanted to emigrate now wondered whether this option was truly preferable to their current lot.Footnote ⁴⁵ At the same time, Tolstoy ordered the prevention of any further emigration from Russia and called on the regional governors to ensure that no pro-emigration agitation take place within their jurisdiction.Footnote ⁴⁶ This included the dissemination of periodicals that were generally supportive of emigration (such as Ha-magid).Footnote ⁴⁷ The result was a gnawing concern that the Russian authorities would not permit propaganda, and that this included the activities of the Ḥibbat Ẓion associations.Footnote ⁴⁸ A sense of confusion now prevailed among the Jews, owing to this prohibition of pro-emigration propaganda, along with several other factors— the unambiguous statement by the Ottoman authorities that prospective immigrants would not be granted the right of entry into Palestine, reports regarding Turkish officials' stringent enforcement of the prohibition on Jewish entry into Palestine,Footnote ⁴⁹ and the swelling stream of reports regarding the hardships experienced by the immigrants “wallowing” in Jaffa, “without bread to eat or a roof over their heads, under the oppressive rays of the blazing sun.”Footnote ⁵⁰

How to proceed was the question on the minds of the few Ḥibbat Ẓion members who still believed in the realization of their nationalist hopes in 'Ereẓ Yisra'el. Should they continue promoting immigration to Palestine as a solution to the Jewish problem in hope of a change in the Russian and Ottoman policies?Footnote ⁵¹ Or should they ignore the Ottoman prohibition and attempt to reach Palestine by circuitous routes, as recommended by some leaders in the country, who called for “conquering the land little by little” and for “stealthily”Footnote ⁵² following in the footsteps of the few hundred Jewish immigrants who had already settled there, despite the Turkish ban?Footnote ⁵³ Another option was to settle in Syria and Iraq, as some activists argued, since “in terms of its historical value, 'Ereẓ Yisra'el was only slightly preferable to Syria.”Footnote ⁵⁴ And still another possible course of action was to give in and halt all activity for the time being, as did the members of the associations in the large cities.Footnote ⁵⁵ It was clear that the Ottoman regime was particularly interested in Jewish immigration to the regions of Adana and Iraq, with the stipulation that the new settlers become Ottomanized. Perhaps it would be worthwhile to begin settling there, some thought, in order to establish a presence in parts of the empire with the goal of eventually reaching Palestine.Footnote ⁵⁶

Most members of Ḥibbat Ẓion were unable to come up with a satisfactory answer as to how to proceed. Activists from the economically well-off strata of the population and from the middle and even lower classes ceased their activities.Footnote ⁵⁷ Even those who had little to lose and continued their activity in the associations halted their practical efforts until the situation was clarified in one way or another.Footnote ⁵⁸ Some Ḥovevei Ẓion argued that association members preferred the “golden calf” to the uncertainty of efforts to promote immigration to Palestine.Footnote ⁵⁹

From a historical perspective, however, the notion of “love of Zion” appears to have started taking root in the minds of the Jewish community much more deeply than had been evident, even in the absence of the association's extensive practical activities. For example, a gathering in support of the idea of Ḥibbat Ẓion was convened by a number of leading German Jewish activists in Mainz, Germany, on July 9, 1882. The meeting was part of a more general effort, organized throughout central Europe and the United States, to express indignation to the Russian government. The initiative had commenced the preceding year and started to gain momentum after February 1882.Footnote ⁶⁰ The Mainz meeting had been convened at the initiative of Marcus Lehmann, editor of the Israelite, German Jewry's principal newspaper at the time. Those attending the meeting were aware of the severe difficulties encountered by the new arrivals in Jaffa but nonetheless resolved in favor of supporting settlement in Palestine, reflecting the substantial inroads made by the ideas of Ḥibbat Ẓion.Footnote ⁶¹

Another example of the influence of Ḥibbat Ẓion thought was the call issued by Louis Wallace, the US Ambassador to Turkey, for the Ottoman authorities to permit Jewish settlement in Palestine. From the outbreak of the pogroms in Russia, Jewish leaders in the United States were concerned about the developments concerning Russian Jewry and called on the authorities to intervene in order to ease the plight of the Jews. Wallace took advantage of Laurence Oliphant's appeal on the subject to request that US Secretary of State Frederic Theodore Frelinghuysen pressure the Turks to annul the prohibition against Jewish settlement in Palestine. The effort had no impact, and the ambassador received a reply stating that Jews could settle anywhere in the Ottoman Empire except Palestine.Footnote ⁶² The efforts made by the officials of the US State Department indicated a high level of public awareness in Russia and elsewhere regarding the opportunities emerging with respect to Jewish immigration to Palestine.

Ḥibbat Ẓion and the Ultra-Orthodox

Another equally important development for Ḥibbat Ẓion and the realization of its nationalist aims in 'Ereẓ Yisra'el was the involvement of a number of rabbis led by Rabbi Samuel Mohilever, who joined the activists. This was an especially significant boost at a time of confusion and lack of direction for movement activists. Prior to the winter of 1882, Mohilever had been aware of developments concerning Jewish emigration from Russia. Like many others, he regarded the phenomenon as a natural outcome of the hardships experienced by the Jewish communities and supported emigration, although he had no preference regarding their final destination, whether it be the United States, Palestine, or anywhere else.Footnote ⁶³ However, in April 1882, just as the ideas of Ḥibbat Ẓion fell under the shadow of severe crisis, Mohilever began advocating settlement in Palestine, now bolstering the more practical arguments with religious justification as well: settlement in 'Ereẓ Yisra'el as the beginning of salvation. This preference for Palestine over all other destinations apparently provided him with a solution to the problem caused by reports received in Russia regarding the difficulties faced by Jewish immigrants in America. Though concerned by the possibility of the growth of anti-Semitism in the United States, Mohilever was far more concerned by the fact that most of the Jews who had already been absorbed into the country had begun to undergo a process of secularization.Footnote ⁶⁴

But Mohilever also had a thorny halakhic problem on his hands. Indeed, the prevailing Jewish religious tenet at the time held that settlement in 'Ere ẓ Yisra'el could take place only in accordance with traditional Jewish law and only after the coming of the Messiah, and that deviating from this sequence of events in an effort to bring about redemption in an unnatural way was in fact a sacrilege. This situation helps us better understand why the rabbi began to emphasize settlement in 'Ereẓ Yisra'el as the beginning of the path to redemption, since he needed a convincing halakhic argument. But Mohilever was apprehensive about preaching alone on the subject, and looked for other rabbis to join him. Thus, in mid-June 1882, he published a joint call in Ha-magid with two of the most prominent rabbis in Russia to mobilize an effort “to save Jewish souls” through settlement in 'Ereẓ Yisra'el.Footnote ⁶⁵

The Ideas of Moshe Leib Lilienblum and Leon Pinsker

Equally as symbolic and significant for the dissemination of the idea of Jewish settlement in Palestine and the establishment of a Jewish national entity there, particularly when the chances of an independent national presence in Palestine appeared so slim, was the ideological development regarding aliyah—Jewish immigration to'Ere ẓ Yisra'el. If the ideas put forth in Moshe Leib Lilienblum's article in Rassvet had previously constituted an almost lone foundation for the ideology of aliyah, in this period intellectuals and other leading figures published articles that introduced additional ideological layers, providing evidence for the growing acceptance of aliyah. One such example was the set of regulations for BILU published in the summer of 1882 by the central BILU office in Constantinople in an effort to elucidate the group's aims. At the heart of this platform was the desire to establish a large number of Jewish settlements in Palestine and Syria, with the goal of a “political-economic and national-spiritual revival of the Hebrew nation in Syria and 'Ereẓ Yisra'el.”Footnote ⁶⁶

The ideological debate about the essential need to immigrate to Palestine, which intensified precisely at the moment that the Ḥibbat Ẓion associations had lost almost all of their organizational momentum, was brought to the fore by publications by two leading Jewish intellectuals: author Yehudah Leib Levanda and physician and publicist Yehudah Leib (Leon) Pinsker. In their younger years, both men had believed that the Russian regime would become a constitutional monarchy providing universal equality for all. Like many others, Levanda was disillusioned by the “storms in the South,” yet it was only in early 1882 that he published articles in Voskhod advocating the creation of an independent national entity in Palestine as a solution to the Jewish problem.Footnote ⁶⁷

Pinsker went further by maintaining that in the wake of the pogroms the time had come for more extensive measures.Footnote ⁶⁸ He held that the fact that the pogroms went on unabated and were complimented by the promulgation of the May Laws indicated that immediate action was necessary to change the predicament of Russian Jewry. Pinsker published his ideas anonymously in a German-language pamphlet titled Auto-Emancipation: A Russian Jew's Warning to His Brethren.Footnote ⁶⁹ But the pamphlet made little impression in Germany where it was disseminated. Only later, after it was translated into Russian, did its author become one of the leading spokesmen of Ḥovevei Ẓion.

The Slowdown in Movement Activity

By the fall 1882, it became clear that a hard core of a few hundred Ḥibbat Ẓion activists in Russia had remained faithful to the idea and continued operating within the Pale of Settlement in some thirty associations, fewer than half the earlier number. In contrast to the associations' past activity in Russia and the work of the sixty associations still operating enthusiastically in RomaniaFootnote ⁷⁰ (although it, too, expired a few months later),Footnote ⁷¹ members in Russia were much less passionate than they had previously been about taking action to turn their goals into reality. Their activities were limited to weekly meetings, held for the most part at the synagogue or at the home of a member, at which the activists discussed current events and the positive attributes of 'Ereẓ Yisra'el.Footnote ⁷² Meanwhile, news, and especially rumors, circulated about the situation in which the new arrivals found themselves in Palestine, as well as the predicament of the “new Yishuv” in the country. Collecting funds to help support the ongoing activities of the associations or to aid immigrants in PalestineFootnote ⁷³ was considered part and parcel of their work, even though the sums raised for this purpose were negligible.Footnote ⁷⁴ At the same time it was clear that the members of Ḥibbat Ẓion associations could not be relied on to come to the aid of the new immigrants in Palestine in a political or settlement sense or as a source of financial support. Their activities were insubstantial and few, and the hopes that had been pinned on them just a few months earlier had completely evaporated. It was therefore no surprise that when members of the BILU political office in Constantinople requested material assistance, they ultimately received no response to their request.Footnote ⁷⁵

One reason for the slowdown in activity was the change in the social makeup of the associations. Rabbi Mohilever's decision to join the effort in the spring of 1882, and his joint public call with Rabbis Soloveichik and Meizel to join and support the associations, resulted in a significant change in the groups' membership.Footnote ⁷⁶ Before the crisis, a large portion of the associations was affiliated with the maskilim, and in 1882 the movement consisted primarily of seventeen BILU associations and a number of associations whose members were primarily affiliated with Orthodox Judaism but who accounted for a relatively marginal element of the movement as a whole. The social composition of the movement began to change in the summer of 1882, when the BILU associations began to dissolve and only a few remained in existence. In most of the associations that survived, which, in Pinsker's words, represented only a “miniscule and unnoticeable part of Russian Jewry,”Footnote ⁷⁷ activists with Orthodox leanings made up the overwhelming majority. For them, Mohilever provided a reference point for self-identification. Indeed, his joining the movement was so significant that Naḥum Sokolov, a correspondent for Ha-ẓefirah, claimed that two parties had actually emerged within Ḥovevei Ẓion: one with a distinct Orthodox character, “a mitzvah [religious commandment] party,” as he called it,Footnote ⁷⁸ and the other a party of maskilim with a “black humor.” Although the maskilim remained members in the associations, they had lost almost all their hope in the face of the latest developments.

By the spring and summer of 1883, the changes in the activities and the operations of the new associations had created a need for change in the leadership's approach toward the strategic objectives of Ḥovevei Ẓion. They had previously regarded Jewish immigration and settlement in 'Ereẓ Yisra'el as their sole immediate goal. Now, for the first time, they began considering the longer term, as most of the leadership reached the conclusion that immigration would take place at some later date and that until then the movement, which had emerged spontaneously two years earlier, would need to be institutionalized. As a first step, they decided to work toward acquiring a legal license for their activity from the authorities, out of the concern that without such a license the movement's activities could be banned. And although many movement leaders did not believe that such a license could truly be acquired,Footnote ⁷⁹ they nonetheless began informal discussions with officials of the Russian Ministry of the Interior to this end.

Establishment of a Central Leadership

During the spring of 1883, leading activists of the Ḥovevei Ẓion associations sought to introduce another substantial change to the functioning of their associations by unifying the ranks of the movement in Russia and establishing a single center to direct their activities. This effort aimed to address the new needs stemming from the change in the prevailing political conditions. That is to say, if previously members had emphasized the need for quick action to settle in Palestine, a goal that was now unobtainable, they now needed to struggle for the very right to settle in Palestine. This struggle would necessitate political negotiation, which, in turn, would require a more complex organizational structure capable of uniting all the forces in the movement. With the emergence of suitable conditions a few months later a number of activists embarked on a practical initiative to coalesce the associations.

The fact that activists from all over the Pale of Settlement began thinking in terms of the same objective at the same time, although they did not even know each other, clearly reflects how necessary such a measure had become. If each association had previously organized its own operations independently, based on the certainty that its declared goals were within reach, members now understood that a considerable amount of time would elapse before a solution could be achieved. Thus, beginning in the spring of 1883, a large number of association activists came to recognize the desperate need for a single overarching organization to lead the Ḥovevei Ẓion associations as one unified body.

In order to establish a central leadership, many leaders of Ḥovevei Ẓion supported the idea of convening a general congress to select an executive committee whose functions would include directing and supervising the associations in Russia. Rabbi Mohilever was the first to launch such an initiative. On June 15, 1883, he convened some twenty activists at his home, and presented them with his political plan of creating a central committee to direct the new movement under his own leadership.Footnote ⁸⁰ The activists attending the meeting understood that his immediate objective was to establish facts on the ground to ensure that he and the rabbis, and not the maskilim of Odessa, Vilna, and Warsaw, would direct the movement that was about to be established. To this end, in addition to Mohilever, the meeting chose to include three rabbis in the executive committee of the new movement: Mordekhai Eliasberg from Bausk, Mordekhai Gimpel Yaffe from Ruzhany, and Dov Ber Bamfi from Minsk. But those who attended the meeting also understood that ignoring the maskilim would not be accepted by the Ḥovevei Ẓion activists in the Pale of Settlement. For this reason, they also selected both Kalonymus Wyssotzky, a religious man who was in close contact with the maskilim, and maskilic writer Yehudah Levanda. The assembly in Białystok, therefore, was the first Ḥibbat Ẓion gathering that aimed to coalesce the Ḥovevei Ẓion associations into a unified movement.Footnote ⁸¹

At approximately the same time, a different group of activists in Odessa, headed by Pinsker and Lilienblum, also began working to establish a provisional executive committee to coordinate the activities of Ḥovevei Ẓion. In consultations held at the end of the summer of 1883,Footnote ⁸² this group resolved to convene an assembly like the one that had taken place in Białystok to establish a “central administrative committee” for Ḥovevei Ẓion.Footnote ⁸³ Some thirty prominent members gathered at Pinsker's home on October 2, 1883 and resolved to establish a seven-member executive committee headed by Pinkser, with Lilienblun as its secretary. Its aim was to organize the founding congress of Ḥovevei Ẓion.Footnote ⁸⁴

The assembly of Ḥovevei Ẓion leaders that convened in Odessa under the leadership of Pinsker and Lilienblum in order to establish a centralized movement to coordinate the activity of the associations had greater influence than other such gatherings, despite the fact that most of the association activists were religious and therefore closer to the ideological outlook of Mohilever and the other Białystok attendees. This was because when it came to addressing the immediate needs of the associations and the ability to unite them all into one movement, most of the activists thought it preferable to support an initiative originating with the maskilim in Odessa. Due to their outstanding personalities, Pinsker and Lilienblum were regarded as highly capable of negotiating with representatives of the authorities, fostering ties with Jews in other countries, and raising funds, and therefore as more able to attain the goals they had outlined than the ultra-Orthodox.Footnote ⁸⁵

Only a few association members identified with Pinsker's territorial ideology;Footnote ⁸⁶ the majority sided with Mohilever and his principal notion of the link between Jewish immigration to 'Ereẓ Yisra'el and the divine commandment to settle there. But even this did not detract from the support enjoyed by Pinsker and Lilienblum's initiative. Moreover, various circles with leanings toward Orthodoxy and Mohilever were familiar with the extent of many rabbis' violent opposition to Ḥovevei Ẓion in general and their work in Palestine in particular.Footnote ⁸⁷

In the end, even the Ḥovevei Ẓion association in Białystok supported Pinsker and Lilienblum's initiative, and its members rejected the initiative of a third gathering proposed by activists in Kattowitz, thus de facto acknowledging their failure to organize Ḥovevei Ẓion.Footnote ⁸⁸ Mohilever's unreserved support for Pinsker and Lilienblum's proposal motivated many others to support it as well. Pinsker now received a large number of letters of support, and newly established associations endorsed his proposal without qualification.Footnote ⁸⁹ And in early 1884—after initial hesitation, a number of serious problems, and difficulties with the secret police—Pinsker and Lilienblum launched a slow and gradual drive to establish a general organizational framework for the Ḥovevei Ẓion associations. To this end, Pinsker sent out circulars, corresponded with the leaders of over twenty-five associations operating within the Pale of Settlement, met with activists, and initiated various activities, primarily in Odessa.

The Ḥovevei Ẓion Associations and the Ottoman Imperial Authorities

In mid-February 1884, the heads of the Ḥovevei Ẓion associations in Russia learned that the Ottoman imperial authorities had once again promulgated a ban against Jewish immigration into Palestine and had forbidden Jews to establish new settlements there. Whereas the ban on immigration could be bypassed relatively easily by bribing the Turkish officials stationed at the border or by entering Palestine on a tourist entry visa, establishing new settlements was altogether impossible without a Turkish permit. In addition to Ottoman suspicions that the Russians were providing political support for Ḥovevei Ẓion in order to gain a foothold in Palestine, the severe Turkish prohibitions were also the product of concerns harbored by Arab residents of Palestine regarding Baron Edmond Rothschild's purchase of land and settlement of Jews in the country. More serious in the eyes of the Ottomans, however, was the prospect of a Jewish entity in Palestine that was likely to demand independence in the future. The Ottomans' recent bitter experience in Bulgaria and concern that “the Jews wish to turn Palestine into a second Bulgarian question,” as one Turkish official put it, meant that for them any attempt of this kind elsewhere must be nipped in the bud.Footnote ⁹⁰

Understanding the urgency of the matter, Pinsker himself attempted to solve the problem by organizing a Jewish delegation to meet with the sultan to reassure Turkish officials that there was no substance to the claim that Jewish settlement in Palestine posed a threat to Turkish rule in the country or that Jewish settlement was politically grounded.Footnote ⁹¹ Pinsker also encouraged other organizations and prominent individuals like Rothschild to send their own delegations to Turkey in order to persuade the Ottoman government to rescind the prohibitions. At the same time, reports and rumors circulated throughout the Pale of Settlement that the Russian government itself was also working to annul “the evil Turkish decree,” a development that further encouraged Pinsker to go ahead with the delegation.Footnote ⁹²

Although Pinsker's proposed delegation to the sultan received the support of the Ḥovevei Ẓion associations, the pressure on him to convene a congress did not let up. Now, more than ever, some leaders believed, a strong centralized organization was needed to challenge the Ottoman decree. The public announcement published in the May 9, 1884 edition of the Jerusalem-based Hebrew-language periodical Ha-ḥavaẓelet about the Turkish cabinet's unanimous decision absolutely prohibiting Jewish immigration to Palestine, even for Jews already living in the Ottoman Empire, heightened fears that some of the associations that were still active would soon disintegrate. Rumors that the settlers who had reached Palestine now wanted to leave, confirmed by the fact that some BILU settlers had either left Palestine or were planning to do so in the near future, further intensified the desire of Ḥovevei Ẓion leaders to assemble quickly to establish a centralized apparatus to prevent a rapid disintegration of their organization as a whole.Footnote ⁹³

During the same period, the editor and proprietor of Ha-meli ẓ, Aleksander Zederbaum, and a group of intermediaries intensified their efforts in St. Petersburg to obtain a legal license for the establishment of a “Russian Jewish Land of Israel Society,” a pseudonym for Ḥibbat Ẓion used to obscure the true nature of the movement. This initiative was also aided by prominent figures such as Mohilever, who made a special trip to the Russian capital for the purpose.Footnote ⁹⁴ Zederbaum's group met with a number of officials and composed draft articles of association for the express purpose of obtaining state authorization.Footnote ⁹⁵ Pinsker, who supported this effort, believed that no action that could anger the authorities—such as establishment of the organization in question—should be taken until an official license was granted. But this too did little to mitigate the pressure on Pinsker to establish a central umbrella organization. Moreover, it soon became clear even to him that it would be impossible to appease the Russian government to the point of legally recognizing such a movement. The efforts ultimately failed, but the pressure on Pinsker to establish a centralized organization continued to grow.Footnote ⁹⁶

During the spring and summer of 1884, Ḥovevei Ẓion associations carried on their activities sluggishly as they awaited the outcome of the Jewish efforts to intercede with the Ottoman authorities to annul the decree forbidding Jews to settle in Palestine. A series of reports—that entry into Palestine could nonetheless be facilitated by bribery,Footnote ⁹⁷ that the ban on settlement by Jewish subjects of the empire had been lifted, that the Ottoman ban “had not been issued from on high” but had rather been the initiative of local officials,Footnote ⁹⁸ and that the decree had been annulled altogether (all except the first of which were subsequently proved to be unfounded)—impelled association leaders to continue pressuring Pinsker and Lilienblum to create a centralized movement. Zederbaum's efforts also intensified the pressure on high-ranking Russian officials in St. Petersburg both to convince the Turks to annul the entry prohibition (primarily through the Russian foreign ministry, which lent its support and even sent the Russian ambassador in Constantinople to appeal to the Turks),Footnote ⁹⁹ and to intercede to legalize the associations of Ḥovevei Ẓion.

All those involved in the centralizing efforts now looked forward to the formation of a founding executive committee and the formal establishment of a Jewish national movement, and, most importantly, a pronouncement by Pinsker. For a short period, the activity of Ḥovevei Ẓion leaders appeared to have halted completely, and would remain that way until Pinkser issued an unambiguous recommendation on the subject. During this time, on June 19–20, 1884, after a relative lull in the violence, a pogrom erupted in the town of Nizhny Novgorod, leaving nine Jews dead, a few dozen wounded, and extensive property looted.Footnote ¹⁰⁰ Pinsker and Lilienblum gave in to the pressure. In early July, the two resolved to convene a general assembly of the leading activists of the two Ḥovevei Ẓion associations operating in Odessa to begin to plan a congress to unify the Ḥovevei Ẓion associations within the Pale of Settlement.

The Road to Kattowitz

On July 22, 1884, approximately twenty of the most prominent figures in Ḥovevei Ẓion gathered at Pinsker's home in Odessa, where they decided to create the Zerubavel association, whose members would work to organize the first general conference of Ḥovevei Ẓion in Russia. Pinsker, who worried constantly that the authorities would harass conference delegates, announced the decision, which was supported by the majority of those present, that the new movement would be declared a society for the purpose of settlement in Palestine and would distance itself from any indication of its Jewish nationalistic leanings.

The assembly at Pinsker's home also resolved to convene a conference of the heads of Ḥovevei Ẓion from within and without the Pale of Settlement to establish the new national movement. To mask the true nature of the organization, it was decided that the conference would take place on October 26, 1884, Moses Montefiore's one-hundredth birthday (8 Ḥeshvan 5645) and that its deliberations would ostensibly be devoted to this theme. At the end of the discussion, the participants resolved to ask Pinsker to lead the organization and Lilienblum to make all the preparations for the conference. Pinsker informed the heads of the Ḥovevei Ẓion associations in Russia of the decisions and asked them to join the organizational efforts and aid the immediate convening of the conference.Footnote ¹⁰¹

But even after announcing the imminent convening of the conference, Pinsker and Lilienblum continued to hesitate to take part in it.Footnote ¹⁰² They had already delegated responsibility for the event to association leaders in Warsaw, and effectively stepped out of the circle of decision makers and left preparations to Shefer (Jewish writer and historian Sha'ul Pinḥas Rabinowitz) and his associates. The Warsaw activists invited some fifty association leaders and activists from within and without the Pale of Settlement to the conference scheduled for early November, and formulated the conference agenda. Kattowitz was designated as the venue. In an invitation they sent, the conference organizers noted that the event would take place “with the authorization of our dear brothers, pure of thought and lovers of Zion, in Vilna, Moscow, Kovno, and Białystok,” but made no mention of Odessa.Footnote ¹⁰³

Aware of Pinsker's misgivings, the organizers made great efforts to persuade both him and Mohilever to attend, convinced that their presence was critical to the plan's success. They even delayed its opening by ten days to ensure their participation, as well as that of other delegates who would otherwise not have been able to attend due to the relatively short notice they had been given. Recognizing that his absence would do serious damage to the image of the conference, Pinsker ultimately yielded to the pressure exerted on him and resolved to attend, despite his doubts. Lilienblum, in contrast, convinced that the meeting would be a failure, decided to stay home.

Now back, Pinsker fostered various connections in addition to Shefer and his associates to ensure that conference deliberations would proceed as he envisioned. He was particularly keen to prevent discussion of Jewish national goals. Instead, the proceedings were to focus only on settlement in 'Ere ẓ Yisra'el. Although agreement had already been reached on this point and the formal aim of the conference was to mark the hundredth birthday of Moses Montefiore, opposition to this approach had since then been voiced, spurring Pinsker to reiterate his case. The objection to Pinsker's tactics were articulated primarily by a number of young intellectuals from Odessa, the most prominent of which was Asher Zvi Ginsberg, who later gained prominence as ʾAḥad Ha-‘am. During the protracted discussions initiated by members of Zerubavel, Ginsberg and his associates objected to the idea of hiding behind a movement with an ostensibly philanthropic goal—the settlement of Jews in Palestine. More specifically, they maintained that there was no sense in gathering in Kattowitz to create a national movement if there was no intention of announcing it publicly, as a public announcement was the one action that could bring about a change in attitudes toward the Jews and an improvement in their plight.Footnote ¹⁰⁴ In the end, however, Pinsker managed to enforce his view and was even authorized by his friends to open the conference with a speech in this spirit.

The Kattowitz Conference

On November 6, 1884, the first conference of Ḥibbat Ẓion opened in Kattowitz. Its thirty-one participants, consisting of the heads of Ḥovevei Ẓion associations in Russia and a few from outside the country, engaged in six days of discussions, culminating in the formal establishment of the Ḥibbat Ẓion movement.Footnote ¹⁰⁵ Although the conference itself lies beyond the scope of our discussion, it is nonetheless important to note Pinsker's closing speech, which expressed hope that “the commendable enterprise” that had been established would be able to “stand on its own two feet” and voiced concern as to whether “the tender, weak newborn that has just emerged into the open air of the world after hard labor would not turn out to be limited in its capacity for life.”Footnote ¹⁰⁶ In this way, he expressed his own uncertainties regarding the future of the new movement, as it was clear to him that the difficulties that had already been encountered would not simply vanish.

Most of his colleagues, by contrast, felt that a new age had begun and shared their enthusiasm with the thousands of activists who read about the conference in the papers and heard accounts from attendees as they returned from the event, bursting with enthusiasm at its success. From this point forward, they were convinced, a major change could be expected in Jewish history.Footnote ¹⁰⁷ The activists' euphoria stemmed primarily from the feeling shared by most of the conference delegates that Kattowitz truly did mark the establishment of a Jewish national movement, which would soon improve the Jews' predicament. Not long passed, however, before Pinsker's darkest fears came to pass—the movement sank into the swamp of inactivity. Many years would pass before its successors in the Zionist movement would actually achieve the goals set by the conference delegates.

Yet, from a wider perspective, the Kattowitz Conference can also be viewed in the optimistic light in which it was regarded by most of its delegates and their supporters and followers. The gathering launched the modern Jewish national movement in its seminal incarnation—a movement that within just a few decades would begin to achieve the goals demarcated at the conference. From this broader historical perspective, it matters little that Ḥibbat Ẓion soon fell into inactivity and that it was different organizational structures (the Zionist Organization, founded in 1897, and the Jewish Agency, established just over three decades later) that would ultimately serve as the primary organs of this ideology. Ultimately, the roots of the Zionist enterprise reach back to Kattowitz.

*****

Although the Ḥibbat Ẓion movement was established in the context of the rising wave of anti-Semitism that swept through Russia during the mid- to late nineteenth century and manifested in the pogroms of 1881, this was not the only reason for the creation of Ḥibbat Ẓion. Other factors also played an important role, among them the conclusion of the Jewish emancipation in western Europe, and the socioeconomic problems facing the Jews of eastern Europe. It was the lower socioeconomic classes from the smaller cities that provided more support than others for the process, based on their hope that the movement would improve the low standard of living suffered by Jewish communities in these cities. The establishment of Ḥibbat Ẓion was also the first attempt at coexistence between Zionist maskilic Jews and Zionist ultra-Orthodox Jews, foreshadowing the critical role the new Jewish nationalist movement would subsequently play in bringing together these two very different groups in Jewish society. Movement activists believed the establishment of the Jewish state would resolve the intractable scourges of anti-Semitism and poverty. On this basis, the Kattowitz convention of 1884 should be understood as marking the founding of a Jewish nationalist movement that sought to establish a home in 'Ereẓ Yisra'el for the Jews of eastern Europe.