In 2011, when he exposed his
story in the Australian press, Manny Wax dropped a figurative bomb in
the heart of the Yeshivah centre in Melbourne. It is the Chabad
centre where he and his family lived; where he was educated; and where he was
sexually abused over a period of three years. Since then, he has become the
forefront of sexual abuse within the Jewish community of Australia. Of the many
victims, his is the only face that has not been pixilated, with a name that has
not been changed to protect his identity.
I meet Waks at a local café in Bondi
Junction, the hub of Jewish Sydney. He turns up in casual clothes, his head
uncovered, and orders something to eat which is clearly non-kosher. No one
would guess that, as a child, he was a devout orthodox Jewish boy. Hearing him
talk is a study in mellifluousness. His sentences are beautifully crafted and
his flow of words so effortless.
Waks is in Australia to launch his
book, Who Gave You Permission?, written in collaboration with
Michael Visontay. “It is about setting the record straight about certain
things” he tells me when I ask him what motivated him to write it.
A few days later I read the book and
find that it does indeed attempt to set the record straight about certain
things. Many things. They include his Chabad upbringing, growing up in a
household of 17 children, his relationship with his parents, his friends and
his public advocacy work.
The book offers readers an insider’s
view into the inner machinations of an ultra-Orthodox Jewish community; the
social fabric, daily routine and strict rituals of the Chabad movement in
Melbourne. One aspect I find astounding is the sheer ignorance in which his
education at the Yeshivah Centre left him. “Until my early twenties I did not
know the difference between Jesus and Hitler – I thought they were one and the
same person”, he writes.
But at the heart of this memoir is
the sexual abuse to which Waks was subjected from the age of 11 to 14 by two
employees of the Chabad centre. It relates in considerable, sometimes graphic,
detail, the grooming process, the abuse itself, and the devastating impact it
has had on his life. We follow the young Waks as he goes off the rails; as
he flunks school; as he takes to gambling, alcohol and casual sex; as he
becomes alienated from his family; and as he loses his faith. It is unclear how
much, and to what extent, his life unravelled as a result of his abuse or
because of his rebellious nature.
Some things, however, are
clear. By 1996 Rabbi Yitzchok Groner,
director of the Yeshivah centre, and Rabbi Abraham Glick, principal of Yeshivah
College, were both aware of allegations of gross sexual abuse occurring within
their institutions involving three named paedophiles at the centre. Both rabbis
chose to ignore the complaints, turn a blind eye, and do nothing. That same
year Waks, accompanied by his father, made a statement to police about his
sexual abusers. The first, Velvel Serebryanski, a teacher at Yeshivah Centre, was
by now living in the US (where he still lives and has managed to evade the
law); the second, David Cyprys, a security guard employed at Yeshivah, was
interviewed by Australian police, but denied the allegations levelled against
him. Consequently, the police decided not to pursue the case any further. A
third abuser, Rabbi David Kramer, later implicated in the abuse of Waks’ two
younger brothers, was spirited out of Australia with the help of the Chabad
community. [After fleeing to Israel, Kramer moved to the US where he sexually
abused another boy and was subsequently jailed.]
It was in June 2011 that things took
a dramatic turn for Waks. A steady stream of stories
involving institutional cover-ups of child sexual abuse in Australian
institutions, and a renewed interest by Australian police to pursue old
cases of sexual abuse, buoyed him to speak out.
Waks resolved to take his story to the media. It appeared in The
Age, an Australian newspaper, sending shock waves across the country.
Yeshivah found itself in the centre of a media frenzy. Less than two
months later, Cyprys was arrested and convicted of the rape and sexual assault
of eight boys. He was sentenced to eight years in jail. Kramer was extradited
to Australia and sentenced to three years in jail for sexually assaulting four
boys.
Soon after, Waks established a
support, lobby and advocacy group for survivors of sexual abuse in Jewish
institutions in Australia. In this capacity, he spoke passionately in many
forums, using different media, calling for reform, accountability and an
apology from these institutions. He became the ‘go to’ person for victims and
their family; the mouthpiece for the many who dared not make their voices
heard.
But this activism has come at great
personal expense. “I find myself not just experiencing the trauma of my own
experience”, he says pensively, “but I experience vicariously trauma of
hundreds of other victims who have disclosed their abuse to me. It sits with
me, it lives with me. It triggers memories, flashbacks, nightmares. It’ really…
it’s endless.”
This is the first I see the more
frail side of Manny Waks; not the valiant crusader he so often projects.
Yeshiva’s reaction to Waks' media
exposure of molestation in its mist was swift and harsh: it included
denunciation, intimidation and the bad mouthing of his family. Waks was accused of
being vindictive and trying to bring down the institution. His parents, who
were still living in the Chabad community, were shunned, ostracised and made to
feel that they had transgressed one of the sacrosancts of their community:
keeping it all in-house. Indeed, the title of the book is a pull-quote from a
sermon delivered by leader of the Yeshivah Centre, Rabbi Zvi Telsner,
shortly after the scandal broke out. During a Sabbath sermon, Telsner addressed
Wak’s father, Zephania, thundering: ‘Who gave you permission to speak to
anybody?’ It was clearly a rhetorical question because everyone in the
close-knit Chabad fold knows that you don’t snitch on a member of the community
to an outsider. To do so would render you a Moser - a rabbinic term for a
Jew who informs on another Jew to secular authorities.
In hindsight, I ask Waks, does he
regret going to the media? He shakes his head resolutely. “Not at all. We need
to stop the silence”, he explains. “Silence engenders abuse and cover ups.
Perpetrators rely on that; on knowing that no one is going to speak. Shame and
guilt – they rely on that. Now that we are finally speaking out they are
resorting to intimidation tactics.”
The fallout has impacted so badly on
his parents that they felt obliged to sell their house in Melbourne and move
away. They now share their time between Israel and Australia. Zephania has
trimmed his signature beard and wants nothing more to do with Chabad which he
labels a cult. Both parents have had a number of health issues which Waks
imputes to their experiences with Chabad. In April 2014 Zephania had a massive
heart attack and had to undergo quadruple bypass surgery.
Manny, his wife and three children,
have also upped sticks and left. First they moved to southern France; currently
they live in Israel.
In an ideal world, what would you
like to happen, I ask him. Would you like Chabad to
disappear? “No,” he replies, “Chabad adds a lot to the Jewish community; they
raise awareness of our traditions and practices. Some of the things that they
do are beautiful. But I think they need to take a good hard look at themselves.
I am not just talking about Chabad Australia, but internationally.”
Are you willing to forgive them? He
mulls over my question, lets it hang in the air and then nods. “My ability to
forgive”, he says, “has no statute of limitation. Anyone willing to take
responsibility, acknowledge and apologise, nothing will stop me from accepting
their apology.”
Even the perpetrators?
“I would not rule that out”, he
says, reflecting. “After David Cyprys finishes his sentence, I would consider
meeting him.”
Our conversation veers to the more
personal, intricate, long-term effect his experiences have had on him. We agree
that details about his immediate family will remain off limit. For the rest,
Waks is willing to tell it like it is. I ask him to describe to me how life has
panned out for him.
“In the last couple of years I face,
almost on a daily basis, depression, anxiety and suicide ideation. I deal with
it every day. I face battles every day. Even getting out of bed can be a
battle; physically and mentally.”
“I am still stuck there. One of the
difficulties I face is that when people look at me they say: wow, you’re articulate,
you look healthy, you’ve got a family, you’ve moved on. But my demons are with
me every day. They have been for many many years.”
Is this an unguarded moment, I
wonder, or is Waks voluntarily exposing his more vulnerable side?
We talk about his family. He is one
of 17 children, the second oldest of the brood, after his elder sister. The
Waks family has known rifts, estrangement and open hostility among its
constituents. Since Waks blew the whistle on the abuse at the Yeshivah Centre,
his siblings have variously supported him or shunned him; some refuse to speak
to him; others have simply not maintained contact. “When you have sixteen
siblings, it stands to reason you will get variation”, he smiles. Relations
with his brother, Avi Yemini, have been particularly strained. When the latter
posted a Facebook post which claimed that a notorious, convicted child sex
offender is currently staying at the family home, Waks responded by suing his
brother for defamation. He is now at pains to douse the story: “My brother and
I have signed a settlement a couple of days ago. So there’s been a cessation of
hostility in the family.” Following the publication of the book, one sibling
and spouse apologised for their lack of support over the years. “Another
sibling, on reading the book, wrote me a very beautiful letter of
acknowledgement, realising finally what it was all about.”
Waks’ trajectory is unique. He could
have easily disappeared into the cloud of statistics of abuse victims who give
up on life. Instead, he chose to fight back. He went back to
school to finish his education; he went on to study at university and gain
a degree in International Relations; and he took possession of his life. His
defiant spirit has propelled him into leadership roles within Australia’s
Jewish community, including executive director of the Anti-Defamation
Commission.
His most notable contribution,
however, was his work with Tzedek, an advocacy group for Jewish
victims of child sexual abuse, which he founded in 2012, and through which he
campaigned to effect change in Australia’s Jewish organisations.
In February last year Waks became
the only survivor of abuse within the Jewish community to speak publicly at the
royal commission, a government-appointed commission charged with investigating
institutional responses to child sex abuse in Australian institutions.
His testimony – and the findings of
the commission – led to sea changes in Chabad: shortly after it, Rabbi Glick
resigned from all leadership positions at Yeshivah; seven months later, Rabbi
Zvi Telsner resigned his post as head rabbi of Melbourne’s Yeshivah Centre; and in June this
year the entire committee of management of the Yeshivah Centre was dissolved
and replaced with an interim leadership.
However, for all his successes,
Waks’ dog-with-a-bone approach and his confrontational style have put him at
loggerheads with many community groups; he has fallen foul of numerous
organisations and has raised the ire of a number of leaders within the Jewish
community. This is reflected in the book in which he doles out epithets and
criticism against numerous stake holders in the community. By way of
justification, he delves into a catalogue of very intricate conversations and
email exchanges, labouring points in minute details in what appears to be an
attempt to settle old scores and air personal grievances with anyone he feels
has let him down: family, school friends, colleagues, community leaders, police
officers, newspaper editors and politicians. It is a shame he has not attempted
to win hearts with the same ferocity that drives him to fight his cause.
He left Tzedek under
what can only be described as unpleasant
circumstances and now heads Kol v'Oz – a global outfit which aims
to address issues of child sexual abuse within Jewish communities around the
world.
“Our emphasis is about big-picture
changes; cultural change, legislative change and change in statute of
limitations” he explains. “In Israel we are dealing with the
issues of paedophiles running to Israel and using the law of return to seek
shelter from justice. There have been cases [of abuse] in different parts of
the world: Melbourne, Amsterdam or New York, alleged perpetrators make Aliya
and then no one hears about them afterwards. “
In December last year, Waks accepted
an invitation to speak at the Yeshivah Centre Redress Scheme, part
of the Centre's commitment to address the impact of abuse that occurred in the
organisation. Now, aged forty, he was back in the very place where it had all
begun; where his life was so callously shattered, his self so violated. He
turned to the packed room and read:
“From the very beginning of this
journey, I said the one of my aims was to return to Yeshivah Centre – to be
welcomed back. Today’s announcement of the Redress Scheme is a watershed moment
for our community.”
Also invited to speak was another
victim, known only as AVB. He is still a Chabad member, an observant Jew.
His words sent a cold shiver down the spine of those present. (See box)
Looking at Waks and hearing him
speak so eloquently, it is easy to admire him. His trajectory has been
remarkable. It is not a trajectory he chose for himself, but one imposed on him
by circumstances over which he had no control. It is sad to think that he may
have to live with his demons for the rest of his life; that, despite his
extraordinary achievements, he feels such a profound sense of pain and
disappointment. “Despite the large network of friends and supporters around
me,” he writes, “deep down I feel isolated, alone.”
As a child, Waks loved partaking in
Chabad’s ‘outreach’ programs. It is perhaps a tragic irony that he himself is
unable to reach out now.
AVB
Speaking at the Yeshivah Centre Redress Scheme
“I
just want to go through a little journey why I’m here today and why I opened my
mouth in 2011. Someone I knew well was abused at the Yeshivah and in
2011, when I spoke to them and encouraged them to come forward, the person
broke down and said “you don’t know, there will be consequences for
me". That abuse did not occur in the 1980s or the 90s. It occurred in
the 2000s. That statement [….] made me feel immensely guilty because I felt,
had I opened my mouth in the 80s, or in the 90s, or even in the 2000s, perhaps
this individual wouldn’t have been affected. So it was that guilt – not a sense
of justice for myself – that made me go to the police in 2011.
[…]
When
people stand in a room and talk about myself, or Manny Waks, or any other
individual, and talk about us in disparaging ways, or call us a liar, they are
sending verbal cues to everyone else in the room; that if you open your
mouth, either about an even that happened to you in the past, or to someone
you know, […] you can bet your bottom dollar that the same statements would be
made about you.
[…]
Someone
I knew well was abused at the Yeshivah over a period of four years. In 2011 he
went with me to the police and started a statement. He found it quite
emotional. And then he saw some of the statements that were made about me and
he decided to withdraw. Several years later, this person was at my shabbos
table with his family and his parents were there. And his parents don’t know to
this day. In the middle of the meal, the father starts laying on some of
the statements he has heard about me, without filter. The cue he was sending to
his son was that if you open your mouth, these are the things you can expect,
and I am not going to defend you. That father will go to the grave without
knowing that his son was abused over a period of four years, including in a
most horrific way.
One
of the other things I just want to put forward, I don’t know if some people
realise, is that some of the crimes that happened here are as horrific as you
get.
Do
any of you know how bad it got? Do any of you know there were cases of rape?
Did you know that a knife was being held to a boy’s neck while he was raped?
Did you know that another time a boy’s mouth was covered to stop the screaming?
Child sexual abuse is not a tap on the knee or a tap on the shoulder - or
somewhere else. It’s as bad as you get. It’s the violation of a child at
an age of innocence, when he should be able to trust an adult to look after
them and nurture them.”
No comments:
Post a Comment