Albert Einstein

WE ALREADY know a lot about Albert Einstein. We know that he formulated the theory of relativity, that he had problems at school and that he did not see the point of wearing socks.

Now, thanks to an online archive released by the Hebrew University — an institution Einstein helped to found — we know a lot more.

The documents unveiled this week by the university, reveal a compassionate and idealistic man with a complicated love life. Among the items which have already attracted interest are 24 letters written to his cousin, Elsa Einstein. He conducted an affair with Elsa for several years, eventually marrying her after divorcing his first wife, Mileva Maric.

And there is a letter from another former lover, Betty Neumann, which was sent to Einstein two months after Hitler’s tanks rolled into Austria in 1938

Addressing Einstein rather formally as “esteemed Herr Professor,” she wrote: “Thinking about the time which was 15 years back, gives me confidence that you will maybe help me now.

“I have lost my livelihood. My position as an x-ray assistant in a hospital which has ended.” The plea clearly hit home. Einstein wrote an affidavit which saved her life by allowing her to leave Austria for the USA.

Among other letters released is one written in German during the British mandate period to Azmi al-nashashbibi, the Arab editor of the newspaper Falastin, which had disparaged Jewish immigration into Palestine. In the letter, dated December 1929, Einstein wrote that he had long been convinced that the future should be built on “an intimate community of nations”.

He added: “I had therefore expected that the great Arab nation more fully appreciate the Jewish need for restoring its national home in Judaism’s old homeland. I think the two great Semitic peoples…can have a great future in common and that instead of facing each other with unfruitful hostility and distrust they should seek the possibility of sympathetic co-operation.” In a later letter to the newspaper he envisaged two teams of four people — Jews and Arabs — each consisting of “a physician elected by the medical body; a jurist elected by the lawyers; a worker representative elected by the unions and one clerical man elected by the ecclesiastical authority”.

These teams, wrote Ein- stein, should work together towards the reconciliation and prosperity of “the whole inhabitants of the land”. He added: “This representation will rise above the politics of the day.”

Despite Einstein’s obvious interest in, and desire for, a Jewish homeland in Palestine, the archive reveals mixed feelings about the fledgling state of Israel.

In 1952, he was visited by Abba Eban, the then Israeli ambassador to the United Nations, who proposed he become Israeli president, but Einstein turned down the ceremonial role, largely because he wanted to retain the autonomy to criticise Israeli government policy and thought that, as president, he would not be able to.

Roni Grosz, the curator of the Einstein Archive, commented: “He was a Zionist but be careful how you use the word. He had his own views on what Jews and Arabs should and shouldn’t do and about how they interact with their Arab neighbours.”

What is clear is that the release of the 80,000 documents will add to our knowledge of what motivated one of the world’s greatest scientists — relatively speaking, that is.

This week started with the satisfying task of sending off our mid-term report on “Being Jewish in Scotland” to the Scottish Government, which has funded the project. The aim is to learn more about the variety of experience of Jewish people throughout Scotland, and it feels as if I’ve been travelling constantly since January! I’ve talked to Jewish people of all affiliations and none, from the northern coast of Aberdeenshire to the Scottish borders, in the main communities of Glasgow and Edinburgh, in the small communities of Dundee and Aberdeen, and with people who live miles from their nearest synagogue.

Over the past week I’ve conducted a focus group over chicken soup and post-purim hamantaschen involving some people in Edinburgh who had never met one another before. I have also held a discussion at the Royal Glasgow Institute alongside an exhibition of the work of my late aunt, Glasgow artist Hannah Frank, and another, over bagels with members of a university Jewish Society.

On Sunday I went with Glasgow’s newest Klezmer band, Kasha-malasha, to a tiny village near Dumfries, where a small group of Jewish people and friends from a 40 mile radius listened, danced, and sang with gusto. We also had a talk by a local artist, which meant the discussion didn’t end till nine in the evening. It would have gone on longer if some of us hadn’t had a long drive home. I left them planning a joint seder and deciding where to meet next, and when I got home I discovered that the people I’d talked to earlier in the week in Edinburgh had been exchanging e-mails and planning to get together again.

The project has a dual purpose — not only to get to the nub of the issues, but also to create community as we go around the country. That certainly seems to be happening. But we’ve also heard details of worrying examples of antisemitism, and although there have been exemplary responses by some institutions, others have been inadequate and ineffective. While a university offered hotel accommodation for a student who had suffered an antisemitic attack at her hall of residence, we have also heard about a headteacher who took no action about antisemitic name-calling in the playground as she “didn’t want to make it any worse”.

After a quick trip south to Lancaster over Shabbat, where I saw my daughter and attended a charming mock Seder hosted by the Jsoc, I was back in Aberdeen for a film evening and a chance to reflect on our findings with members of the local community. Soon enough it will be time to start writing the final project report. Fiona Frank is the “Being Jewish in Scotland” project worker with the Scottish Council of Jewish Communities