Every October comes that week when eyes turn northward to Stockholm to see how many of “our own” will be awarded a Nobel Prize. At the same time, this year, the Israeli government made it clear that it is not interested in academic excellence.
Among the explanations for Jews winning about one-fifth of all Nobel Prizes, roughly a hundred times our share of the world’s population, is a tradition of learning through debate and criticism, rather than obedient memorization; or perhaps, as a persecuted minority moving between countries and cultures, we had to adjust and develop mental flexibility. Regardless, we focused on intellect.
Jewish excellence is not confined to the Diaspora. Relative to its size, Israel ranks among the leading countries in Nobel achievements, and its position improved this year, when Joel Mokyr, an Israeli-American, was one of three economics laureates. Yet, before we congratulate ourselves, notice how Israel recently demonstrated its deliberate choice of mediocrity.
Looking at Israeli classrooms
The situation in Israel’s schools is well known. For example, of the 38 OECD countries, only Chile has more crowded classrooms. We take comfort in the fact that in the 2022 PISA exams, which assess the skills of 15-year-olds, Israel rose from 40th place three years earlier to 35th. However, we tend to forget that this is still a low ranking, and most ultra-Orthodox institutions do not participate in the tests, so the results do not reflect reality.
You might say, “Average students do not become Nobel laureates, cyber innovators, or developers of missile interceptors. The roots of excellence lie in higher education institutions, and Israel’s universities rank highly, so there is no need to worry.”
Actually, there is. The Council for Higher Education is a public body overseeing the integrity of Israel’s academic system, composed of universities and colleges. It determines which institutions may grant degrees, safeguards academic independence, and more. The education minister formally heads the CHE, but its deputy chair runs it.
The two other most senior posts are the chair of the Planning and Budgeting Committee, which is responsible, as its name implies, for planning and funding, and the CHE’s director-general. Within two months, all three top positions were filled by individuals of personal merit, yet their qualifications raise doubts as to whether they can lead Israel’s academic world or maintain its ties with global academia, especially in a challenging period of domestic budget cuts and growing international isolation.
In August, Ami Moyal, who has a doctorate in electrical engineering, was appointed chair of the PBC. For a decade, he served as president of the Afeka College of Engineering, which offers bachelor’s and master’s degrees but has no doctoral or postdoctoral programs.
He is the first to hold this position without professional experience in a university. His predecessor was dean of the Faculty of Medicine at Tel Aviv University. The PBC chair before him served as dean of the Faculty of Law at Bar-Ilan University.
In September, after the job description was rewritten to remove the requirement for familiarity with the higher education system, Maya Lugassi Ben Hamo was appointed director-general of the CHE and the PBC. She holds a doctorate in life sciences and served as deputy VP for corporate knowledge at Israel Aerospace Industries. Before that, she was a senior executive at a Rashi Foundation Beersheba campus, responsible, inter alia, for developing pedagogical training programs in a variety of fields for teachers.
Finally, shortly before this year’s Nobel laureates were announced, a new deputy chair of the CHE was appointed. Dudi Schwartz, a jurist who served as dean of the Faculty of Law at Bar-Ilan University, is now the most senior figure in Israel’s higher education system.
After eight years at Bar-Ilan, he moved to Ono Academic College in 2001, where he went on to become rector. Ono is a private college – in essence, a business. It’s a legitimate business, and I enjoyed studying there after my retirement, but it’s a business nonetheless, with all that this implies.
For the first time, not a single representative of Israel’s universities holds any of the top CHE positions. One non-university appointment, reflecting the education minister’s preferences, could be understandable. But all three? What message does that send to Israeli researchers and to their counterparts abroad? Especially as without collaboration, there is no research, certainly not high-quality research.
When we next count “our” Nobel laureates, it will be worth recalling the late summer of 2025, when Israel’s government made it clear that it does not care who leads its academia, nor what message its appointments send to scholars at home and around the world.
The writer was Israel’s first ambassador to the Baltic states after the disintegration of the Soviet Union, ambassador to South Africa, and congressional liaison officer at the embassy in Washington. She is a graduate of Israel’s National Defense College.