Call them mega-leaders.
They are the new breed of men (so far) taking over the helm of the American Jewish establishment as Mort Zuckerman, the real estate and publishing mogul, prepares to succeed Ronald Lauder, the cosmetics heir, as chairman of the Conference of Presidents of Major American Jewish Organizations. Meanwhile, James Tisch, head of the Loews Corp. and outgoing president of UJA-Federation of New York, is the choice to succeed Charles Bronfman, of Seagrams wealth, as president of the United Jewish Communities.
These mega-leaders are enormously wealthy, with high name-recognition and superb access to American and world leaders of government and business. But these are people who tend to come in at the top of the organizations they head rather than work their way up the ladder of Jewish communal involvement. They have limited connection to amcha, or grassroots Jews, and narrow access to rank-and-file Jewish lay leaders, professionals and press.
“I used to be able to pick up the phone and call the chair of the Presidents Conference to discuss an issue,” says a Washington-based official of a Jewish organization. “But you can’t get through to a Ron Lauder and I suspect the same will be true of Mort Zuckerman.”
There is concern that in their relative isolation, these new leaders will be buffered from the associations and exchange of ideas with Jewish organizational volunteers and professionals that were an integral part of the job description in the past. Some intangible sense of communal spirit may be lost to them as much of the mood of American Jewry will be filtered through a handful of key officials and associates.
Veteran Jewish leaders are skeptical about this emerging trend and, not surprisingly, reluctant to discuss the implications on the record. But privately they worry that in attracting powerful men to these top positions, the community loses an authentic relationship with those who ostensibly speak for them — and the leaders themselves lose a reality-check in assessing the feelings and needs of the people in whose name they speak.
Shoshana Cardin, 75, of Baltimore, a past president of just about every major communal organization one can think of, plus a few more, epitomizes the model of the Jewish leader who rose through the ranks. She notes the financial obligations required of a lay leader and says, “If this trend becomes more widespread, it could dissuade competent men and women from seeking” key positions. “If my turn were to come up now, I probably wouldn’t have made it,” given the level of wealth and presumed donations of the mega-leaders.
Certainly, wealth has always been a factor in choosing American Jewish lay leaders. But today Jewish organizational professionals are courting wealthy leadership, in part, as a response to the proliferation of family foundations that these philanthropists head — foundations that threaten to overshadow the federation system.
Just as the United Jewish Appeal and Council of Jewish Federations were struggling on the road to merging into the United Jewish Communities a few years ago, individual philanthropists like Les Wexner, Michael Steinhardt and Charles Bronfman were setting aside increasingly significant dollars for their own funds. In an effort to keep such key figures in the system, and give enhanced clout and prestige to the fledgling UJC, Bronfman was tapped to be its president and Joel Tauber, a Detroit-based mega-donor, to serve as chairman.
Each leader, of course, has his or her own strengths and weaknesses, but the new breed are primarily high-powered businessmen used to making their own decisions and getting their way. “There’s a longer learning curve for those coming from different fields,” says Cardin diplomatically, noting the Jewish communal system of consensus requires a good deal of process and patience until decisions are reached, accepted and implemented.
“I don’t know if it’s helpful to have a head of the UJC who doesn’t know the leaders, lay and professional, in the system, and the needs of the average federation. We need someone willing to participate in regional conferences and to go to the various communities whose constituents want some hand-holding from their lay leaders. Being visible and accessible adds a great deal to the sense of togetherness we still need.”
Will the mega-leaders have the time or inclination to travel to Cleveland or Kalamazoo for such meetings? And do they have the deep-seated Jewish sensibilities of past leaders?
“Let’s face it,” says one Jewish lay leader, “there are no giants out there in the volunteer community. Gone are the days of Stephen Wise and Abba Hillel Silver,” charismatic rabbis who led the community in the first half of the last century. “Unfortunately, some of the potential talent has been lost to industry, to the professions and technology. Perhaps younger people today are not willing or able to devote the time to leadership roles in our community, or don’t appreciate the importance of maintaining a strong and united American Jewry.”
Not so the mega-leaders. Whether they are driven by ego or altruism, they have shown a willingness to devote time, energy and funds to the cause of the Jewish people. What’s more, their contacts with government and international leaders are impressive and can be enormously influential. But in bolstering those connections, there is a danger that the ties between our own community and our leaders can grow further apart, and that top leadership positions will appear off limits to all but a handful of mega-millionaire machers.
Like most things in life there are trade-offs here. But it’s important to be mindful of them, and to work toward cultivating leaders who not only fund Jewish life but live it as well.