Rebel icon, Struggle rabbi and Trump evangelist

HOWARD SACKSTEIN

After Isaacson gave a rousing sermon about the “twelve spies” who scouted the Land of Israel, during which he had condemned the racist policies of apartheid, the president of the shul, Percy Yutar, dismissed Isaacson on the spot. Yutar would later be the infamous state-prosecutor who prosecuted Nelson Mandela at the Rivonia Trial and who called for the imposition of the death penalty for Madiba.

And so began the journey of Ben Isaacson, the “Struggle Rabbi”. Sent into cherem (excommunication) for the sin of condemning apartheid, Isaacson found himself rabbi to the small conservative community of Krugersdorp, west of Johannesburg.

The day after the Sharpeville Massacre in 1960, Isaacson travelled to the blood-soaked streets of the dusty township, where 69 protesters had been mowed down by police in a protest against oppressive apartheid pass laws.

Together with other clerics, Rabbi Isaacson visited the hospital and morgue to see the lifeless bodies caked in mud and blood. That evening Isaacson’s home in Krugersdorp was raided by the security police.

His library of struggle and Jewish religious books was confiscated and never returned. Isaacson’s wife and young daughter were traumatised by the rifle-wielding uniforms. Police even cut open the mattress of baby Ilana Isaacson’s crib, looking for evidence against the Jewish clergyman.

At that time, Isaacson was also harbouring the young children of anti-apartheid activist Ben Turok, who together with his wife Mary, were on the run from the police. Indeed, Isaacson and his then-wife Ann, were regularly providing a safe house for ANC operatives to meet.

The “Rebel Rabbi” was too much for Krugersdorp and Isaacson was under extreme pressure to resign. This time he was sent further into the purgatory of Bloemfontein, no place for a member of the Congress of Democrats. In Bloem, Isaacson would be broken when he once again became a rabbi with no pulpit.

The friendship between Ben Isaacson and Struggle heroes Beyers Naudé and Helen Joseph, was so deep that when Isaacson was left an unemployed rabbi, Naudé, head of the South African Council of Churches, would send him a monthly cheque.

The anti-apartheid credentials of the Telz Yeshiva graduate are beyond reproach, yet today this icon of the struggle for freedom in South Africa is a vociferous supporter of Donald Trump. And therein lies the contradiction that is Ben Isaacson: rebel icon, Struggle rabbi and Donald Trump evangelist.

“The liberal world has turned against Israel; they have ceased to be liberal,” explains Isaacson, “I have sympathy for the Palestinians. When I was in exile in Zimbabwe, the Palestinian ambassador, Ali Halimeh, was one of my closest friends.

“Every Sunday evening he would send over his embassy car and fetch me so we could have hummus and tahina together. But today things are different, the Palestinians don’t recognise the right of Israel to exist. The Palestinians must have a state, but I don’t use the words occupied or liberated – it was the Arab armies who in 1967 caused the problem.

“I was in the Israeli army,” says Isaacson. “I don’t think the Palestinians are innocent. You don’t slit a child’s throat while it’s sleeping and claim to be innocent. Whoever is friendly with those who advocate the destruction of Israel is an anti-Semite.

“Supporting BDS means supporting the destruction of Israel. Israel is completely right to deny the BDS supporters entry to the state – if you support our destruction, why should they allow you to come there?

“For me, survival of Israel is absolutely paramount; it is the only thing that counts for me, it is the only thing that guarantees the survival of the Jewish people.”

Isaacson supports Trump because, as he says: “He’s very frank and says what he means. He doesn’t hide things, even if he exaggerates, but when he says he will support Israel, he follows through. Look at Nikki Haley, the US Ambassador to the United Nations.

 “Liberal America criticises the ban on Muslims from certain countries entering the United States, but have we ever heard a word from them about Jews not being allowed into some countries?”.

Isaacson is the only rabbi in South Africa to have ever joined the banned African National Congress. While in exile in Zimbabwe, Thabo Mbeki, who would later become the second president of South Africa, came for Shabbat dinner and loved the chopped liver.

When Isaacson returned from exile to South Africa he asked Mbeki: “Why have you forgotten me?” and Mbeki replied: “We will never forget you.” Yet, says Isaacson, “they did”.

When asked about the turbulent state of current-day South Africa, a shadow descends over the diminutive rabbi. “My whole life gives me the right to express a view. I became involved in the Struggle in 1958 and I have always been consistent in my views on apartheid and social justice, but South Africa deserves better. South Africa deserves what it was supposed to be.

“At the moment I don’t see a bright future for South Africa, but there are glimmers of hope. SAUJS, G-d bless them, are fighting for us and flying our flag high, but who wants to spend their entire university career fighting?

“My beloved ANC –  may it rest in peace – today is full of anti-Semites. How can you support a government that tries to restrict visits to Israel or welcomes to this country Hamas or Iran; they are the same as the Nazi Party.”

Surrounded by his mounds of books on halacha, Isaacson chuckles at the revisionist history of the South African Jewish community, now attempting to claim credit for the activities of the Jews involved in the anti-apartheid struggle.

Isaacson, a member of the Release Mandela Campaign and the End Conscription Campaign, cites the example of activist Rabbi Selwyn Franklin in Cape Town, who he describes as “a great and brave man who just never had his contract renewed by his shul.

“As soon as Nelson Mandela was released, suddenly the Board of Deputies and the community jumped on the bandwagon, but they forget how they rejected us because they thought we were ‘leftists’.”

Isaacson may have felt he was deserted by the community and the ANC, but he never turned his back on either.

In fact, the day after he was fired from the Great Shul in Wolmarans Street, there was a knock on Isaacson’s front door. It was the secretary of the Wolmarans Street Shul. He said to Isaacson: “Rabbi, we need you. There is a barmitzvah today in shul and we need a rabbi.”

Isaacson put on his clothes, despite having been fired the previous evening, he took his tallis bag and went to shul because the community needed him. Today more than ever, the community still needs the Struggle Rabbi. 

Ben Isaacson’s biography is currently being written by Suzanne Belling and will be released in the next few months.