How did an obscure Romanian folk melody,
a 16th-century Italian song,
and a drunk romantic poet
combine to create Hatikva,
Israel's inspirational national anthem?
Yeah, a song synonymous
with hope and enduring hardship
not only has an insane origin,
but also is surrounded
in a little bit of controversy
because, like the State of Israel itself,
Hatikva has the complex role of being
both a symbol of Jewish hope and identity
as well as the anthem for a multicultural
and multiethnic state dedicated to equality.
I'm Jacob and today we're going to explore
the origins of the song,
what it meant to the Jewish people
before there even was the State of Israel,
and how it came to be
the emblematic anthem of the nation.
(intro music)
Like many national anthems before it,
Hatikva finds its lyrical roots in a poem.
Tikvatenu, or Our Hope, was written in 1877.
The poem evoked biblical imagery
and emphasized the yearning
for the Jews to return their homeland.
Its author, Naphtali Herz Imber,
was a Ukrainian Jew, who also happened to be
broke, drunk, and deeply unhappy,
which was understandable
if you're a Jew from the Ukraine.
Some of his contemporaries even called him
a vagabond, or a scoundrel, and a fraud.
So, right from its inception,
Hatikva was steeped in controversy.
Tikvatenu was put to melody in 1888
by Romanian Jew Samuel Cohen.
Now, which melody it was put to
is up for some debate.
Some say it was La Mantovana,
a popular 16th-century Italian song,
while others say it was Die Moldau
by Czech composer Bedřich Smetana,
and that disagreement has led
to a contentious view on part of
whether or not a hotdog is a sandwich.
Definitely a sandwich.
And through a few lyrical alterations,
such as cutting it down from nine stanzas to two,
we more or less arrive at the Hatikva
we know and love, or know
but have serious questions about.
The song gained popularity
with early Jewish pioneers
to pre-state Palestine who worked the land.
Then, at the first meeting
of the Zionist Congress of 1897,
Hatikva was adopted as the organization's anthem.
Troubled by Imber's reputation, Theodor Herzl,
founder of the Modern Zionist movement,
held multiple international competitions
in hopes of finding an alternative.
But, just like the Jews, their new anthem
was stubborn and would not be uprooted.
Then, at the Sixth Zionist Congress in 1903,
the idea of a Jewish state in Uganda
was proposed and actually passed 295 to 178.
In protest, opponents to the proposal stood up
and sang Hatikva in a moving demonstration
emboldening them not to give up
on their ancient homeland.
It was as if the song was already the anthem
to a state that didn't even exist yet.
By 1933, 30 years later,
the 18th Zionist Congress
officially adopted Hatikva as its anthem.
By now the song had become
a sort of cultural identity for the Jews,
who were coming home for the first time
in 2,000 years.
But when European Jews found themselves
facing the brutality of the Holocaust,
Hatikva took on a new life as a resistance song.
Scores of stories are documented about victims
in the concentration and death camps
singing it in harrowing circumstances.
One Jewish slave laborer in Auschwitz
recounted seeing Czech Jews
march to the gas chambers
fully aware of their fate,
break in the spontaneous rendition of Hatikva.
A Polish Jewish pilot imprisoned in a labor camp
reported frequently hearing voices
singing Hatikva coming from other prisoners.
BBC Radio broadcast an account
of hundreds of survivors singing Hatikva
led by a British Jewish army chaplain
after the liberation
of the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp.
Hatikva emerged as something far more
than just a song about identity
but a source of resilience
and the symbol for hope
the original poem was destined to become.
But just as Israel has always had
to fight for its right to exist,
Hatikva has often suffered censorship
at many world events.
As recently as October 2018,
Hatikva was played for the first time
in the United Arab Emirates
when Israel took home the gold
at an international judo tournament.
In previous years, the competitors had to appear
under the International Judo Federation's flag
instead of their own.
But this time, sports minister Miri Regev
cried at the podium as she heard
her nation's anthem played in the venue.
The moment was so historic,
Israeli networks interrupted programming
to broadcast the ceremony live.
Now, there's one more unique quality
of Hatikva that sets it apart
from other national anthems.
If you listen to the lyrics,
you'll notice there are no mentions
of "Rockets' red glare," or "Bombs bursting in air,"
no "Grab your weapons, citizens,"
or violent imagery such as
"May impure blood water our fields."
Hatikva is 100% about hope,
peace and returning home.
As author Benjamin Kerstein put it,
"Unlike other national anthems,
"Hatikva contains no militarism,
"no triumphalism, no violence of any kind
"but simply feelings of hope and optimism."
So how could such a seemingly rich song
about hope be such a source of controversy?
Well, let's break down
what the song actually says.
As long as the Jewish spirit
is yearning deep in the heart,
with eyes turned towards the East
looking toward Zion, then our hope,
the 2000-year-old hope, will not be lost.
To be a free people in our land,
the land of Zion and Jerusalem.
Pretty inspiring but is it relevant?
Well, yeah if you're Jewish.
See Israel is known for trying
to accomplish the impossible.
Surviving wars on all fronts,
transforming deserts into fertile lands
and magically telling you
which route will be faster.
Thank you Waze.
But perhaps the most daunting challenge
Israel has undertaken is to be
both a homeland for the Jewish people
as well as a nation dedicated to equality
regardless of race, religion, or culture.
Israel contains many different ethnicities
and people from many different faiths,
like Christians, Muslims, Druze,
Baha'i and Samaritans.
Israeli citizens, no matter what faith,
can vote, hold government positions,
and many even serve in the military.
And while it's great that they can live
and worship as they please
without the oppression they might find
in neighboring countries,
it's kind of a drag that when they want
to express their national pride,
the anthem trumpets another culture's
yearning and aspirations.
The Arab Israeli population,
which comprises almost 20% of the country
hasn't taken this slight sitting down,
or rather that's exactly what they did.
Rifaat Turk, the first Israeli Arab
to play for the Israeli national team,
remained seated and silent
as Hatikva played at the 1976 Olympic Games
commenting, "I'm not a Jewish soul.
"I am an Arab soul.
"If the anthem's lyrics were about love
"and consideration of people like me,
"I'd happily sing it."
In 2012, Arab Israeli Supreme Court Justice
Salim Joubran stood for the anthem
but didn't sing, sparking discussion controversy
and even accusations of racism.
Also, that year a Peace Index poll
from Tel Aviv University
found that 90% of Israeli Arabs
consider the anthem unsuitable
which kind of makes sense.
If 20% of your population
lacks representation in your country's song,
what do you do about that?
Especially when you're trying to maintain
the soul of the Jewish homeland.
But then there're some who are of the opinion
that the anthem doesn't go far enough
to embody Jewish ideas.
Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook,
the spiritual leader of Religious Zionism
in the 20th century,
felt that the song should be more religious
and even wrote a counter-anthem to Hatikva
entitled Shir Ha'emunah, or Song of Faith.
Rejecting secularism, the song speaks
of a steadfast faith in the return to our land.
But eventually the Religious Zionists
fully accepted Hatikva and may be
among the anthem's biggest supporters.
But the misrepresentation doesn't stop there.
Looking back at the first stanza,
"As long as the Jewish spirit
"is yearning deep in the heart."
Okay, that's good if you're on board
with the whole Jewish thing.
Then, "With eyes turned towards the East,
"looking toward Zion."
That would be known as Eurocentrism,
or a world view catering to Europe
and the Western world.
It's the reason our world map is this way
instead of this way,
why for decades Asian people
were referred to as "Orientals,"
and why we have yet to see
a South Indian actor play Batman.
Looking East towards Jerusalem works great
if your place in a 2,000-year diaspora
was in Europe or America.
But what if your ancestry
was from Iraq, Syria, or Iran.
Mizrahi Jews are a major part
of the Israeli population
with around 3.2 million people
living in the country.
So, another chunk of the people
not feeling represented in the anthem.
There's no escaping that Hatikva doesn't represent
a lot of people in the country.
So, here's the question.
What's more important to a national anthem?
That it include its citizens in the broader sense,
or that it embody the spirit
the country was founded upon
and that it strives to maintain.
Is it reasonable to ask those not represented
to try to connect with it
on that deeper emotional level?
And what about the vast majority
of Jews living in Israel
who do connect with the song?
They embody a tradition of longing to return
to a homeland after thousands of years,
a hope that refused to die
until it was finally realized.
These are not easy questions to answer
and the truth is, that given Israel's complex nature
you're probably never going to find a solution
that satisfies everyone.
But, hopefully, in the end,
these questions will lead the people of Israel
to understand each other better
as opposed to driving them apart.
Because if the latter happens,
then they'll have completely lost
the spirit of Hatikva and all that it stands for.
Hope, peace and endurance through the cauldron
of the most agonizing of hardships.
So, what do you think?
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See you guys next time!