Social Responsibility Runs in My DNA

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On my first birthday, the world celebrated the end of World War II. My father used to remind me that my private day is also a meaningful historical date; thus, I should always “mind the world,” be considerate, share what I have, and count my blessings.My paternal grandparents were the heroes of my childhood, my role models. Today, I recognize that I adored them not only for the unconditioned love they gave me. There was more that paints their memory with warm emotions: both were intensely devoted to taking care of the needy, weak, underprivileged people around them. Grandpa, once a book publisher and ardent activist of the Esperanto movement, was employed as an unskilled laborer, while his main attention was focused on collecting financial and other contributions, connecting donors to needy people, and maintaining the social network of home visits to the lonely and elderly (an operation that he founded, enthused by Jewish tradition of social responsibility). Granny, an established surgeon in her former life in Vienna, worked as an unlisted nurse in a hospital and made rounds of home visits among home-ridden, sick people, and injured soldiers, attending to the medical needs of “her patients.”Their small apartment in the center of Jerusalem was an unofficial community center, a meeting point for many, young, lonely refugees from war-stricken European countries. It was a vibrant home, with seemingly elastic walls that could host any number of guests and feed any hungry visitor with a piece of cake, a piece of advice, a comforting shoulder, a listening ear. There was an air of hope and humor around them, which is remarkable given their personal biographies: refugees for the third time, living as “illegals” in a barren country, in a restless city that was often under curfew, sometimes under siege, far away from their families. Their activities were self-initiated and voluntary; their resources rested mainly on their inborn conviction of solidarity. They attracted friends and neighbors to join, which extended the network and added energy, experience, and moral support. The establishment they founded continued to render essential assistance until the State was founded and took over. Naturally, my parents took after the State, always involved and supporting small- and big-scale social activities. There was little discussion about it. It was just a way of being.I was first “nominated” as a social worker by my kindergarten teacher when she asked me to look after one of the girls in my group whose mother had just died. Since then, I consciously became the protector of scapegoats, mediator between fighting groups, supporter of underdogs, and protestor against school injustice. During adolescence, school was just the background to my Girl-Scouts career, where I engaged in various social activities that I further pursued as a professional social worker and therapist.It was not until I accidently “discovered” Gestalt therapy that I found my professional “home.” The egalitarian encounter between patient and therapist, the mutual and reciprocal relationship between self and environment, the social/political aspects of raising awareness, the effort to empower groups and individuals enhancing self-support and responsibility—all these and many more are for me the unique features of Gestalt therapy, which I proudly live and practice.Joining the Human Rights and Social Responsibility Committee of European Association for Gestalt Therapy (EAGT) was for me the natural path. This small group of colleagues soon turned into a meaningful friendship glued together by our commitment and personal/professional belief system, determined to fulfill the theoretical legacy of Gestalt theory and put it into practice.My working years were divided between the welfare system, academia, and private practice, mostly in the service of the court system as an expert witness, always working partly pro bono. The longest, most meaningful voluntary engagement was serving as a clinical adviser to the National League of Child Protection for 22 years.Lately, I have been fortunate to convey my experience and values to my grandchildren: Gaya (12) was confronted with harsh reality after a classmate was arrested with her family (refugees from the Sudan), to be deported. I encouraged her and a group of friends to recruit more colleagues, their parents, and teachers, who became an action group. I coached them as they launched a fund-raising campaign, provoked the media, and engaged a lawyer who succeeded in turning the wheel. I believe that was a persuasive demonstration of the power of social responsibility and solidarity, which will be remembered.