“Servire è l’arte suprema”

In Roberto Benigni’s movie Life is Beautiful, Guido’s uncle Eliseo teaches Guido to be a waiter in the hotel restaurant where Eliseo is the head maitre.  In 1939, Guido comes to live in his uncle’s house in Arezzo, Italy.  Eliseo, who for 30 years has been living in the hotel he manages, uses this house for storage. The house is filled with art and books because for Eliseo, “nothing is more necessary than the unnecessary.”

This is how Eliseo teaches Guido to serve as a waiter:

“Think of sunflowers.  They bow to the sun.  But if you see some that are too bowed down, it means they’re dead!  You’re serving.  You’re not a servant.  Serving is a supreme art.  God is the first servant.”  Or in the original Italian: “Servire è l’arte suprema.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eM6iUc78RIY

I find myself turning to the fictional Eliseo for guidance when I read accounts of antisemitism in elite settings that are supposed to be dedicated to service such as the academia or medicine.

Consider Dr. Gill Kazevman’s recently published concerns about anti-Israeli agendas in the context of medical school:

https://journalhosting.ucalgary.ca/index.php/cmej/article/view/79584/57631

https://nationalpost.com/news/canada/antisemitism-canadian-medical-school

My initial reaction when I read Dr. Kazevman’s account of having to hide his Israeli identity in medical school was that the concern should be extended to focus on patients.  Are we to believe that doctors who exhibit Israel hate in the context of medical education then take a shower in the rain before entering the hallowed grounds of clinics and hospitals?  How can our medical system, in which patients often practically have little choice about providers, ensure emotional safety and medical safety to patients who might in the eyes of some medical providers be associated with Israel?  Without a focus on patients or other recipients of services, concerns about antisemitism in elite settings risk coming across as antiseMEtism, with a focus on career considerations rather than on the purpose of the career—to serve (even though I know that people who call out antisemitism are very much concerned about patients, students or other recipients of services).

But just as I feel that the focus should be on patients or other recipients of service, I can also see the trap that may be there in raising the alarm.  While the concern for patient wellbeing is logical, it can easily be dismissed with claims of insufficient evidence and/or assurances of unfailing professional integrity (possibly with the support of some Jewish colleagues).  As a result, the person raising the concern may be made to seem vindictive, vexatious or unreasonable—hysterically imagining and projecting fears and insecurities onto the service providers.

This, after all, is l’arte not-so-suprema of convert aggressors: they know how to exert cruelty and inspire fear while making themselves appear unjustly accused.  At the end, their art is to trigger the metaphorical equivalent of an auto-immune response—making us speak and act in a way that will lead us into traps and self-doubt, just as the body’s immune system can turn against itself.

So what are we to do, uncle Eliseo, when some haters might be wolves in sheep’s clothing?  Within this trap-rich landscape, how can we avoid digging our own holes to fall into?

When we first see Eliseo in Life is Beautiful, he has fallen onto the floor of his house, having been thrown there by antisemitic thugs who had raided his house—and whom Eliseo calls “barbari.” “Why didn’t you cry for help?” the alarmed Guido asks his uncle.  “Silence is the most powerful cry” comes Eliso’s reply.

But when Eliseo’s beloved horse Robin Hood is vandalized and painted with the graffiti “Achtung, Jewish horse,” Eliseo uses more words than before to describe the gathering storm:

Eliseo: “The usual barbarians, vandals.  It’s sad.  What nonsense.”

Guido: “Don’t get upset.  They just did it to—”

Eliseo: No, they did not do it to—they did it to.  You’ll have to get used to it Guido.  They’ll start with you too.”

Guido: “With me?  What could possibly happen to me?  The worst they can do is undress me, paint me yellow and write ‘Achtung, Jewish waiter.’  I didn’t even know this horse was Jewish.  Let’s go.  I’ll clean him up in the morning.  Take him back to the stall.”

The final time we see Eliseo, he is undressing moments before entering a gas chamber.  When a female Nazi guard trips and falls onto the floor, Eliseo turns to her aid and asks, “are you hurt, signora?”  She shoots him back a power-filled stare.

Eliseo is helpless to change the horror around him, but his commitment to service is instinctive and emanates from the core of his being until the last moments of his life.

Today, we are experiencing forces much larger than ourselves that have terrifying potential to erode.  Do we have to get used to some people who may be Israel haters taking up positions that are meant to be dedicated to service?  Do we have to look forward to a world in which patients and students—not just potential colleagues—may be implicitly branded as “Achtung—a Zionist”?

Ultimately, it will be up to society—perhaps with some inspiration from the first servant—to work toward ensuring that people elevated to positions of power are genuinely dedicated to service.  Hate of Israel is unlikely to help the people of Gaza, who would benefit enormously from a leadership that would abandon the dream of destroying Israel.  If hate of Israel masked as commitment to human rights is allowed to weave itself into the fabric of some medical settings, then “do no harm” may not ring true.