He was born in 1946 in Świebodzice, but from 1958 he moved to Israel with his family. He graduated from the electronic technical school and then completed three years of compulsory military service. He studied mathematics to which he devoted his scientific life. His career developed rapidly, he became a professor when he was only 33 years old. Until 1978, he worked at the University of New York and then at the Technion Israel Institute of Technology (Haifa, Israel). Since 1994 he has been a professor of applied mathematics at the Tel Aviv University. He is best known from his dissertation from 1993 entitled “Compactons: Solitons with finite wavelength” (co-authored with James M. Hyman).
Rosenau’s second passion is poetry. He is particularly interested in aphorisms that he writes in several languages, including Hebrew, Polish, French, English and German. Rosenau wrote his poems while still in Poland. He has already published six volumes of poetry in Israel, but he also publishes in Poland. He is an active participant in literary festivals, among others the Warsaw Autumn of Poetry.
He is a poet, philosopher and historian. Writing about human existence, he draws a lot from the tragic times of the Holocaust. However, he is equally eager to use humor, because, as he says: “It is humor that distinguishes Jews from Eastern Europe. It’s very Jewish not to take yourself too seriously”. In 2003, a documentary was made about Philip Rosenau, directed by Agnieszka Arnold. On this occasion, Professor Rosenau visited Poland, including his native Świebodzice. He then held, among others, lectures with pupils and students. These meetings were very well received by the young. They were equally important for Philip Rosenau, because, as he often emphasizes: “What I learned from childhood in Poland, and what is extremely important to me, is a serious approach to learning”.
“What I learned from childhood in Poland, and what is extremely important to me, is a serious approach to learning.”
Grandpa got an egg and I owe them a henhouse.
Grandpa got a mug and I owe them a barrel.
Grandpa got a bullet in the ghetto and I obligated to revenge.
I don’t have a henhouse, I don’t have a barrel, but I live for revenge
Delicious and sweeter from dish to dish: three granddaughters,
They laugh without being accounted for.