Op-Ed – Page 48

A London lesson

Britain’s Labor Party is going through a crisis as successive low-level and, more recently, senior members of the party express antisemitic attitudes.

Ken Livingstone, the former mayor of London and a Laborite familiarly known as “Red Ken,” told television audiences last week that Hitler was a Zionist, repeating a common and despicable theory usually limited to musty corners of the internet, implying that the Holocaust was all a ploy to engender sympathy that would lead to the creation of the state of Israel. Livingstone apologized if people had taken offence to his words but did not apologize for what he said.

Around the same time as Livingstone – a stalwart of the party’s left for decades – was getting in hot water, so was Naz Shah, a party rising star. The MP accused Israel of behaving like Nazis and suggested that Israel be relocated to the United States, an explicit call for the ethnic cleansing of Jews from the last refuge of the Middle East where they have not yet been eliminated.

The conflict broke into the open, at least in the international media, in February, when one of the co-chairs of the Labor club at Oxford University resigned, declaring that a large proportion of club members have “some kind of problem with Jews.”

Jeremy Corbyn, the Labor Party leader whose own record of allegiances leans more toward Hamas and Hezbollah than it does toward democratic, Jewish Israel, has called an inquiry into antisemitism in his party. Yet, this did not stop one of Corbyn’s shadow cabinet members and closest allies from dismissing allegations that the Labor Party has a problem with Jews as a “smear.” And some have declared the condemnations of antisemitism in the party a “new McCarthyism.”

While all of this sounds like bad news – and it’s hard to argue that the presence of antisemitism in one of the Western world’s major political parties is anything but – there is a silver lining.

The fact is that ideas like these have been percolating on the left and elsewhere for years. They are expressed daily in certain forums on the internet and pop up in private conversation even among people who are respected and trusted on other topics.

In recent years, we have seen individual eruptions of outlandish accusations against Israel – indeed, “apartheid,” “genocide” and accusations of Nazism and the perpetration of a holocaust are accusations thrown routinely at the tiny outpost of democracy. That antisemitic outbursts in Britain’s Labor Party have reached a critical mass that could no longer be dismissed as the unrelated rantings of misguided individuals has led to a much-needed confrontation over the topic. Now, the party must confront and address the problems in its ranks.

From a Canadian perspective, this has particular interest, because our New Democratic Party, in some ways a child of the British parent party, is entering into a period of reflection and reinvention. Its last two leaders, the late Jack Layton and the recently defenestrated Thomas Mulcair, tried to eradicate from their party not-uncommon expressions of anti-Zionism that sometimes relied on anti-Jewish prejudice as an accelerant. The spectacular failure of the Mulcair-led NDP in the last election is leading some to say that a turn to the more extreme left is, if not an electorally advantageous move, at least an ideologically pure way forward. Such recidivism would almost certainly involve some rehabilitation of old anti-Israel fixations.

Yet, it is always better to shine light under these rocks than to allow these ideas to mutate. In Britain right now, we are seeing the predictable illogical extremes to which unchecked anti-Zionism can lead. It will be informative to watch the public discussion that transpires. Though differences are vast, the political cultures of Canada and Britain still have some strong parallels. Perhaps, if Britain confronts in this matter now, Canada will not need to later.

Talking about Israel as a family

Sixty-eight years ago, when Israel was born and became the state of the Jewish people, a family was created. As with any other family that has a complex history, there is love and arguing, support and fallings out in the Israel mishpacha. To make things trickier, Israel is what we would call a blended family, whose members come from wildly varying geopolitical, socio-cultural, ethnic, religious and linguistic backgrounds.

This variety makes for a richness you would be hard-pressed to find elsewhere – the intensity and vigor of which those visiting or missing Israel so often speak. However, the blended Israeli family is fraught with tensions brought about by both the baggage each member has and the difficult neighborhood in which they live. Because Israel is the only Jewish state in the world – our only “family home” – each discussion about it feels of utmost consequence, even to Israel’s extended family of Diaspora Jews, who feel strongly about their connection to that familial home and the relatives living in it.

Not long ago, the announcement that singer Achinoam Nini (Noa) had been invited to perform at our community’s Yom Ha’atzmaut celebration on May 11 set in motion a heated debate about where we draw our red lines when it comes to criticizing Israel. The Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver made a decision to welcome Noa despite the objections of individuals who disagree with the artist’s political views, and Ezra Shanken, JFGV’s chief executive officer, expressed his hope that our community would continue the Jewish tradition of welcoming diversity of opinion and embracing respectful debate. As we celebrate Israel’s 68th birthday, I think it would be worthwhile to take a look at how our blended family handles conflict and disagreements when they arise from within, and do a little cheshbon nefesh, soul searching, about how we each might be contributing both to the family’s well-being, as well as to internal friction and divisiveness.

With Israel, we so often focus on the external conflicts, sometimes at the expense of looking at what is happening in our own backyard, and this is something we cannot afford to do any longer. For our blended family to thrive and prosper, it is not enough anymore to stand united against enemies. The strength of a tight-knit family depends less on the extent to which its members agree on every issue, and more on how they communicate their disagreements and live with differing points of view under one roof. We all share a moral obligation to set an example for the children and youth in our community, and show them that the Israeli family of which they are a part is strong and confident enough to welcome and even encourage different opinions and points of view.

So, how do we have disagreements and important discussions without engaging in the kind of destructive behavior and accusations that tear at our familial fabric? Is it possible to have difficult conversations from a place of mutual respect, even when we don’t see eye to eye? I speak from experience when I say that, while not easy, it is, in fact, possible. I have friends from across the political, national and religious spectrums, and I cherish the ongoing, sometimes challenging, conversations I have with them about Israel. With those conversations in mind, I would like to offer a few points to consider and some basic strategies I have found helpful when discussing Israel.

We have something important in common. Whenever you engage in a discussion with a fellow member of the tribe who holds different opinions about Israel than you do, remember that you wouldn’t be having that difficult conversation if it weren’t for the fact that you both care enough about Israel to take the time and argue. If you are not sure this is the case, ask the person a simple question: Do you care about Israel? If they answer yes, then, as surprising as it may sound, you have some common ground – a starting point for a respectful exchange of ideas. It is not always comfortable to accept that someone who holds a political view we disagree with comes, as we do, from a place of caring about Israel. But that is a discomfort we should learn to lean into and work with if we want to help foster within our community the democratic value of free speech – the same value that sets Israel apart from other countries in the Middle East.

Respond rather than react. Yes, there is a difference between the two. When we react, we re-act specific lines, roles and dialogues, just as a well-rehearsed actor in a long-running play would do. Unsurprisingly, reaction-based discussions usually feel like rather irritating déjà vus. When we respond, we do so from a sense of responsibility (response-ability): we know that we are not merely actors with memorized lines, and that we have the freedom to improvise, to choose to keep an open mind in those conversations where our default mode is to be judgmental, get defensive or go on the offensive.

Next time someone says something about Israel that makes you want to yell at them, “You have no idea what you’re talking about!” or “How can you say something like that?!” ask instead “Can you tell me more about what you just said?” It won’t feel natural at first because improv moves us out of our comfort zone. Nevertheless, try it. Be curious. We all have a human need to be heard and we all know how unpleasant it feels when our words are ignored or dismissed. Really hearing someone out is a beautiful, positive way to practise what Rabbi Hillel believed to be the essence of the Torah: what is hateful to you, do not do unto your neighbor.

Respect the importance of our personal histories. So much of who we are, what and how we think and how we feel about any given issue is a result of our personal history. When and where we were born and raised, our family’s past, our religious background, the influential people and key experiences in our lives – all of these and more also contribute to how we relate to Israel. If we understand that each one of us has such a personal history that affects our worldviews and that these histories differ from person to person, we move a step closer to accepting that it is inevitable for a variety of opinions about Israel to exist within our community. Once we accept this truth, we can choose to find it in ourselves to treat with respect even those with whose opinions we disagree.

In Hebrew, the words kavod (respect), kibud (honoring/acknowledging) and koved (weight/difficulty) all stem from the same root. Truly respecting “the other” and acknowledging from where they come and their right to hold different opinions to ours can, indeed, feel difficult and burdensome at times. Yet, if we want to help create a strong community that honors the histories and diversity of all its members, we should view this effort to respect the other as a blessed weight that we choose to carry, like that of an unborn child.

If you are a regular reader of the Jewish Independent, it is safe to assume that you, too, care about Israel. As we celebrate Israel’s birthday this year, I invite you to envision the kind of legacy or family heirloom we want to leave for the next generations in our community. In my mind, I see a vibrant, warm, colorful, imperfect and unique patchwork quilt to which each of us can add a symbolic piece of ourselves as the dialogue about our beloved Israel continues to unfold. What is your vision? And what are you willing to do to make it a reality?

Pirkei Avot (Ethics of Our Fathers) teaches us that “it is not upon us to complete the work, but that neither are we free to desist from it.” Our work as fellow members of the extended and blended Israeli family is to do tikkun olam (repair of the world). And tikkun olam begins with us, at home and in our community. So, in our conversations about Israel, let us all commit to being a bit more curious and a little less judgmental. Let’s treat one another with kavod and remember that the strength of our family is directly proportionate to our ability to be kind to one another.

Yael Heffer is an educator who has been working with children and families in the Vancouver Jewish community for close to 10 years. She is currently completing her master’s in child and youth care, is involved in social emotional learning research and is training as a clinical counselor. She grew up in South America, Germany and Israel and is a strong advocate of nonviolent communication.

Case for a positive rethink

When speaking to Jewish audiences about advocacy, I often refer to my own background as a Jewish convert in making the point that we sometimes have to apply a fresh perspective – and have a collective “out-of-body” experience – to understand the reality of our own circumstances. Sometimes, we are too close to the situation to evaluate it with clear eyes and objectivity.

Among the many things that make me proud of my father is the fact that, early in his career, he chose to serve the public as a police officer. I have heard it said that police disproportionately interact with the most challenging and marginal elements of society, perhaps just five percent of the public, on a regular basis. Just as one in such a role knows their daily encounters are not representative of broader society, we as Jews – who understandably take notice of antisemitism and anti-Zionism – must be cautious not to attribute these toxic manifestations to the majority of Canadians.

I could write an entire series of columns on how we as a community have far more allies in the non-Jewish world than we often appreciate. Instead, I’ll offer two factors internal to the Jewish world that suggest pro-Israel advocates should be optimistic.

1. There is far greater unity of purpose – and welcoming of diversity – in the Jewish world these days. In the past, there was significant disagreement between Jews on the best means to secure the future of the Jewish people in an often hostile world. The community was split along various lines: between Zionists and non-Zionists, assimilationists and Orthodox Jews, socialists and capitalists.

Today, post-Shoah and post-1948, the overwhelming majority of Jews are Zionists in that they believe the state of Israel should exist and thrive as a democratic Jewish homeland. Among Zionists, there is extraordinary diversity: we are Labor and Likud, religious and secular, social activist and academic alike.

There is ceaseless debate over how Israeli policies can best secure the ideals of Zionism and how Diaspora Jews can engage Israel in a meaningful way. This is all healthy. We wouldn’t be Jews if we didn’t subject these issues to serious thought and debate.

But this occurs within a strong consensus that Israel’s existence is fundamentally just, a blessing to the Jewish people and the entire world, and, ultimately, the centrepiece of our collective future just as it is our ancestral homeland. These aren’t just clichés; they are ideals brought to life every time a young Jewish Canadian boards a plane for Birthright, challenges anti-Zionism on Facebook, downloads the latest Israeli music, or volunteers for the Israel Defence Forces.

2. Despite facing serious challenges, Israelis are far more successful, happy and optimistic than we might think.

While Israelis have suffered in every generation from war and terrorism, none of this detracts from the fact that the IDF has proven its capacity to provide Israelis with secure borders and an astonishingly high level of public safety. This is no mean feat in the Middle East, let alone for a country smaller than Vancouver Island.

At the same time, Israel has seen remarkable economic and technological success. From 1992 to 2013, Israel-China trade skyrocketed from $50 million to $10 billion annually. Israeli exports to Europe have nearly doubled since the boycott-divestment-sanctions movement was launched in 2005. Trade with emerging markets like India has likewise increased. Outside Silicon Valley, Israel now has the highest concentration of high-tech firms on the planet.

Success at a macroeconomic level doesn’t mean there aren’t serious challenges. The cost-of-living, for example, continues to be a burden for many Israelis. But, with each passing generation, Israel grows stronger economically and Israelis are afforded greater opportunities to learn, work and engage the world.

Israelis also enjoy a remarkably high quality of life. Israelis have the same life expectancy as Canadians (81) and Israel boasts a universal health-care system that typically beats Canada in international performance rankings. According to the OECD’s 2015 Better Life Index, which measures various social and life factors, Israel is the fifth happiest country in the world – ahead of Canada, the United States and most of Europe.

What would early Zionist thinkers like Theodor Herzl and his contemporaries say if they could read these statistics and walk the streets of Jerusalem or Tel Aviv today? How often do we forget how far we have come as a people?

I had the honor this February of leading a group of Canadian master’s-level students on a public policy study trip to Israel, one of many fact-finding missions we organize. (CIJA annually takes some 200 Canadians to Israel.) The students, all of whom are non-Jewish, were amazed at the innovation, diversity and vitality shown by Israelis despite living in the world’s most unstable neighborhood. They saw what we should never lose sight of: a country and a people from whom we can learn so much.

Indeed, Israel embodies so much of what’s right in the world today – and it is on this basis that we should share all that Israel has to offer with the world around us.

Steve McDonald is the deputy director of communications and public affairs, Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs.

Is it time to end IJV herem?

When Vancouver-based songwriter and musician Daniel Maté wrote on his public Facebook page that he had declined an invitation from Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver to accompany some singers on Yom Hazikaron, since he “couldn’t in conscience do that as long as we don’t honor the far more numerous victims of the terror ‘our’ side inflicts,” he received an invitation from an Independent Jewish Voices (IJV) member to get involved in their group.

Sarah Levine was that IJV member. “It’s important to me to stand with other Jews who are working for Palestinian human rights,” she told me. “I think we have a particular role as Jews to think critically about Zionism, since the state of Israel often claims that it does things ‘in our name’ and with our support.”

Along the political spectrum of Jewish groups in Canada devoted to matters pertaining to Israel and Palestine, IJV – which bills itself as a human rights organization – tries to carve out a space rejecting traditional Zionist principles. In an organized Jewish community where conservative positions on Israel prevail, this doesn’t make it many friends.

Writing in the Huffington Post, IJV campaigns coordinator Tyler Levitan cites the silent treatment he regularly receives from an array of Jewish institutions when he seeks to publicly debate issues including Jewish National Fund discriminatory land-lease policies and the boycott, divestment and sanction movement. IJV considers BDS “a last resort,” as the group’s website says, and, while most observers would characterize IJV as anti-Zionist, it says that it “does not define itself in terms of Zionism.”

I spoke with Levitan. “Eroding that support base [for political Zionism] would be weakening the glue that binds the community,” he said. “That’s the fear. But we at IJV feel that having difficult and honest conversations is what makes the community stronger.”

For several years, I’ve watched IJV operate from close quarters. As a self-defined progressive Zionist, I have not signed onto IJV’s platform. But, as someone who values serious debate within the Jewish community, I have twice participated in an IJV-hosted forum. Mostly, I find it a sign of community weakness that most of the engines of the Jewish community attempt to shut IJV out of the conversation entirely.

Some Jewish papers (namely this one and the Jewish Post & News in Winnipeg) are open to including IJV perspectives, but the Canadian Jewish News and the Ottawa Jewish Bulletin keep a wide berth around IJV. Yoni Goldstein, CJN’s editor, will not grant IJV editorial space. As Goldstein put it, “… even though we promote inclusion as a virtue, there are limits to how inclusive we’re willing to be. Abetting BDS and rejecting Israel’s future as a Jewish state crosses the line.” Goldstein added: “Independence has its benefits, but the comfort of community is not usually one of them.”

With the exception of the Peretz Centre in Vancouver and the Winchevsky Centre in Toronto, no Jewish community locale will host IJV events – or even rent space to them, according to Levitan. But they’re not giving up on trying to be heard within Jewish community walls. “We’re persistent,” he said.

To reject Zionism indeed does place IJV outside of the mainstream community tent. It is this way, but should it be?

Like all political “isms,” Zionism’s meaning comes from the effects of the policies with which it is associated. While the debate between statist Zionism and those who foresaw other possible arrangements for Jewish liberation in the early 20th century was robust and active, non-Zionist voices receded as Jewish statehood emerged. But now, almost seven decades later, Israel is in crisis. It may be time to ask whether Jewish privilege should be rolled back in favor of some more inclusive and democratic arrangement. A frightened community, however, may view this very question as akin to treason.

IJV’s adherence to the Palestinian right of return is the biggest stumbling block for those who support Israel’s identity as a Jewish and democratic state. But even here, consider the wording on IJV’s website: “Peace will only be possible when Israel acknowledges the Palestinian refugees’ right of return and negotiates a just and mutually agreed solution based on principles established in international law, including return, compensation and/or resettlement.”

Any solution – even a two-state one – will likely involve some return, some compensation and some resettlement. While IJV does speak in terms of “rights,” in practice we might see their call as somewhat more pragmatic than many assume.

The thing is, even reasoning out these complicated dilemmas as I’m trying to do here is well-nigh impossible as long as groups like IJV remain excluded by the sort of herem (excommunication) with which they’ve been saddled. One thing on which Levitan and mainstream Jewish community leaders seem to agree is that there’s a lot of fear. And, sadly, we know all too well the kinds of politics to which fear can give rise.

Mira Sucharov is an associate professor of political science at Carleton University. She is a columnist for Canadian Jewish News and contributes to Haaretz and the Jewish Daily Forward, among other publications.

Possibility of a better future

Teens light candles on March of the Living. (photo from March of the Living Canada)

In April 2015, a group of 80 teens, under the guidance of three chaperones and a Holocaust survivor, arrived in Poland for a two-week journey exploring Poland’s tragic events and followed by the joy of celebrating the birth of the Jewish state on Yom Ha’atzmaut.

The mission of March of the Living is to pass the torch of Holocaust memory to new generations. The experience provides young people with an opportunity to bear witness to the Holocaust and to the stories of survivors, so that this important part of our collective history is never forgotten. It is also a unique opportunity to strengthen our children’s Jewish identity and to strengthen their connection to Israel.

The march itself took place on Yom Hashoah, and we marched from Auschwitz to Birkenau with nearly 10,000 other young people. The march commemorates the death marches that the last surviving prisoners were forced to take, where many perished, but a few survived thanks to the liberation by the Allies. It is the most powerful event imaginable, and one that unites all young Jewish and non-Jewish people across the world.

By the end of the trip, these beautiful young people were so open in their expression of their deepest and most profound insights and emotions. They were no longer afraid to show their vulnerability, because the support they received from each other throughout the trip was absolutely unconditional. It was a beautiful experience and a privilege to be a part of.

The commitment to Judaism and Israel that the participants acquire on this trip is so clearly represented in the following statements by March of the Living participant,

Barbie Clark:

“For me, March of the Living created an emotional connection to my tradition, enabling me to understand and appreciate the importance of remembering our history.

“During the trip, we witnessed firsthand the magnitude of mass destruction that occurred during the Holocaust. As we traveled around the country, we were constantly reminded of these horrors in every city, town and community that we visited. At the height of Auschwitz’s productivity, it was able to murder and cremate up to 12,000 Jews a day – a number greater than the mass of us who were able to complete the walk. To realize that every single one of us participating in the march could have been destroyed in the space of one day, defies understanding and description. Also, at Majdanek, we were witness to a horrifying monument containing ashes and bones of … 20,000 Jews killed in the Nazi’s Fall Festival of 1943. This monument is alarmingly large, reiterating the magnitude of what occurred. I found this terrifying and incomprehensible.

“The horrors witnessed in Poland are to be contrasted with what I experienced in Israel,” continued Clark. “While in Israel, I had the unique privilege to witness both Yom Hazikaron – Israel’s Remembrance Day for its soldiers – and Yom Ha’atzmaut, Israel’s birthday. On Yom Ha’atzmaut, the entire country is in celebration – the euphoria is palpable. Despite the sadness one is left with after [bearing] witness, I was left with contagious optimism and hope. Hope for a future without enemies; hope for the Jewish people and the Jewish nation surviving despite all previous oppression.

“The entire experience created for me a new sense of being connected to Judaism, in a way I never thought possible…. The trip symbolized for me all [the] adversity, intolerance and persecution of Jewish people, yet at the same time creating a sense of survival and the possibility of a better future, for not just the Jewish people, but for all mankind.”

Charlotte Katzen, co-chair, March of the Living committee, was a chaperone on the 2015 trip. This article was originally published in Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver’s Yachad. More information about March of the Living, click here. For information on the adult program – which is new this year – click here.

Antisemitism’s blurry lines

Avi Benlolo, president of the Canadian Friends of the Simon Wiesenthal Centre for Holocaust Studies, was recently quoted in the National Post saying that Jewish university-bound applicants should consider options other than Toronto’s York University. The reason? A faculty association executive proposal to divest from weapons manufacturers. The proposal didn’t mention Israel by name.

According to Benlolo, this is a “campaign of censorship against Israel and the Jewish people.” The organization also issued a statement declaring that, in the wake of the proposal, it was “concerned for the safety and security of [York’s] Jewish students and faculty.”

I recently combed through the 2015 report of the Simon Wiesenthal Centre on antisemitism on American campuses, headlined: “A Clear and Present Danger.” Over the 26-page document, I discovered a few antisemitic incidents over the eight preceding years. (I selected an eight-year period to represent two generations of students at a four-year university or college.)

As the report detailed, at Harvard in 2013, to raise awareness of Palestinian home demolitions, activists slipped mock eviction notices into dorm rooms. There was no evidence to suggest whether Jewish students were targeted. And, in 2014-2015 at University of California-L.A., Rachel Beyda, a Jewish student, was barred admission to a judicial position by the student council following accusations that her Jewish heritage made her biased. After an uproar, the administration pressured the council to reverse itself. A similar dynamic played out at Stanford in 2014, when Molly Horwitz was asked, “Given your strong Jewish identity, how would you vote on divestment?”

The report also noted a “decade” of “increasing hostility” at the University of California-Berkeley in 2015, “including “vandalizing Jewish property, spitting at Jewish students, threatening violence, and physically assaulting Jewish supporters of Israel.”

Incidents like these should be called out strongly. But every other event chronicled since 2007 in the Simon Wiesenthal Centre report described political activity directed against Israel or its policies – not instances of antisemitism.

The latest mudslinging debate in the antisemitism wars is more nuanced. It concerns a talk by gender studies scholar Jasbir Puar at Vassar College, an event that authors of a Wall Street Journal op-ed described as antisemitic and a blood libel.

In the talk (of which I received a transcript), Puar made two particularly jarring claims. About the bodies of 17 Palestinian youth that Israel kept for two months at the end of 2015, Puar said, “Some speculate that the bodies were mined for organs for scientific research.” (These youth, it is important to note, had been attacking Israelis. Puar described these Palestinian youth as having been involved in “stabbing” and as part of a “peoples’ rumble” but called their deaths “field assassinations.”)

Puar also suggested that Israel engages in “weaponized epigenetics, where the outcome is not so much about winning or losing nor a solution, but about needing body parts, not even whole bodies, for research and experimentation.”

Puar did not respond to my requests for comment or clarification regarding her accusations.

While academic freedom is a principle meant to protect scholarly speech from legal censure, there is an equally important norm requiring a scholar to provide evidence when making empirical claims. On this, Puar failed.

But is Puar’s scholarly breach antisemitic?

Joshua Schreier, an associate professor of history at Vassar and part of the steering committee of the Jewish studies program that was one of the co-sponsors of the talk, doesn’t think so. He attended the event. “It’s really important,” he told me, “to protect free speech and protect academic speech,” adding that “we have a responsibility, as academics, when we talk about speculation, to note … whether it’s substantiated, whether we’re trying to give new life to those rumors, or not, but none of that makes it antisemitic.”

Unfortunately, the unsubstantiated charge of using “body parts for experimentation” cuts close to the bone of blood libel myths. It is also uttered in the context of a cultural moment on campuses when most criticism of Israel is inappropriately being cast as antisemitic. This surely means that there will be fallout from the talk that will serve to distract debaters from the pressing issues around the ills of occupation. It also means that amid the hyperbolic rhetoric about antisemitism on campuses, actual antisemitism is becoming more difficult to spot when it does occur.

Meanwhile, hundreds of faculty members from across the United States have issued a statement to Vassar’s president asking her to “write a letter to the Wall Street Journal … condemning in no uncertain terms the unjustifiable attack on Vassar and on Professor Puar.”

For its part, the Anti-Defamation League had nothing more damning to say about Puar’s appearance at Vassar than that she has sometimes accused Israel of pinkwashing.

Ian S. Lustick, a professor of political science at University of Pennsylvania, told me by email that he signed the statement “to show solidarity against the campaign to restrict the space of politically correct discussion on anything pertaining to Israel and Palestinians.” About the claim of organ harvesting, Lustick said that “the speculations about horrific

Israeli behavior with respect to organ harvesting from Palestinian bodies are as unlikely to be true as they are likely to be circulated as long as Israel refuses to quickly return bodies of dead Palestinians to their families.”

Debate over campus discourse on Israel (and even on things like armaments, weirdly perceived by some to represent Israel) will continue. Vassar’s president, for her part, invited parents and alumni to an online forum to discuss “current issues and tensions within our community related to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.”

As for whether actions on campuses over the last decade constitute antisemitism, the ledger is mixed. Verbal or physical harassment directed at Jews for reasons related to their ethnic or religious identity is antisemitism. Same with leveling dual loyalty charges against Jewish students.

But consideration of divestment from weapons companies is not antisemitism. Criticism of Israeli policy is not antisemitism. Criticism of the occupation is not antisemitism. Criticism of violence – whether it is state-sponsored violence or violence carried out by individuals or groups – is not antisemitism.

Presenting unsubstantiated claims against agents of a state in a public lecture is irresponsible. And, if the symbolism chosen for these non-evidenced charges quacks like an infamous antisemitic myth, it will, not surprisingly, be heard by many as redolent of that scourge. But that does not necessarily make it, in and of itself, antisemitism.

A satirical vlog on Zionism

A screenshot from the trailer for Avi Does the Holy Land. The vlog will appeal to some more than others.

Good satire depends not only on distancing the viewer from the object of ridicule, but on making them identify with it, if only just a little. For North American Jews who’ve grown up with affection towards Israel, a new video blog (or vlog) does just that.

Avi Does the Holy Land is a sendup of sex-drenched Zionism, a vlog that purports to tackle various hot-button aspects of Israel – “the most contentious state in the Middle East!” in the words of Avi, a “Canadian Jewess” who “went on a Birthright trip and fell in love with Israel.” (Haaretz has since revealed that Avi is Aviva Zimmerman, originally from Calgary, and now an Israel-based filmmaker.)

Through a website, a YouTube channel and a Facebook page, Avi covers such topics as how to beat terrorism, whether Palestinians are really oppressed or not, what to pack for Birthright, and the accusation, by Israel’s critics, of pinkwashing.

And, while Avi is a cartoonish, lipsticked character who perpetually seems perplexed by the sincerity of her interviewees, many of us will no doubt identify with at least a sliver of her carefree naiveté.

“Did I just give a blow job to a guy named Dudu?” she muses in one segment.

In my kibbutz-loving period of the early 1990s, it wasn’t a guy with the unfortunate name Dudu I fawned over, but another whose name in translation meant “ploughed field.” Giggling over his agricultural moniker while in ulpan class, my pals and I idealized his Zionist credentials.

In another scene, Avi wears a pink T-shirt emblazoned with an Uzi, the kind that pepper tourist shops throughout Jerusalem.

While I never wore clothing depicting an actual gun, I did rummage through the kibbutz lost and found one day and select a worn, burgundy T-shirt from a paratrooper, the kind Israeli soldiers design when they finish their basic training. (This one, from 1984, was extremely tame next to the tasteless ones appearing in more recent years – ones that promote rape and anti-Palestinian violence.) I later found the owner – a different strapping kibbutznik whose name meant cedar tree – but never did return it. Why would I? It had the perfect mix of soft fibres and Jewish power pedigree. All the better to wear while painting metal beams and bantering with the workers over never-ending tea-and-toast breaks in the kibbutz welding shop.

Avi Does the Holy Land’s web episode “Pride vs. Pinkwashing” is the most cutting in terms of political messaging. It involves alternating scenes of Avi doing what she “does best” – “dancing on a truck” at Tel Aviv Pride – and interviewing Rami Younis, a Palestinian writer and activist, over charges of Israeli pinkwashing. Calling Israel’s critics “belly-aching leftist sh–heads,” Avi muses over Younis being “hashtag superserious,” and finally suggests to him that perhaps if he drapes himself in a rainbow flag, Israel will treat him better.

It’s probably fair to say that I move in circles that are highly critical of the occupation and that, while I’ve taken a nuanced position on pinkwashing, still take the claim seriously. But I, too, have enjoyed a Tel Aviv Pride beach party, trying to order a vodka cocktail from a shirtless bartender and, in my distraction, confusing the Hebrew word for cranberries with that for paratroopers and enjoying my private little malapropism – a symbol of Diaspora idealization of Israel – for weeks after.

So is Avi “other”? Or is Avi “us”? For those who are distressed by the occupation and feel a gradual distancing from Israel through decades of government intransigence and illiberal moves intended to silence and intimidate human rights activists, probably a bit of both. And for those who don’t have a single critical word in their lexicon for the Jewish state, I’m really not sure. But I’d love to see their reaction.

More to becoming an adult

It’s a bat mitzvah year in our family. We’ve booked the photographer, the caterer, the DJ and the invitation company. Our daughter is studying her parashah and learning to chant the Haftorah and maftir.

Now, it’s time to inject some social justice into the experience, in the form of what have come to be known as “mitzvah projects.” Coming of age in the 1980s, my generation was less social justice-oriented. So what exactly, I wondered, should a “mitzvah project” entail?

I turned to JEDLAB, the Jewish educators’ forum on Facebook. I discovered that there is an organization expressly founded to support kids in their mitzvah project strategies. Called Areyvut (Hebrew for “social responsibility”), the New Jersey-based group offers consulting services – from a free phone consultation to more extensive, fee-based ones – and direct organizing of an array of hands-on, direct-action-style activities in which party guests can participate. Called “chesed fairs,” these might include game-board painting for a social-services agency, hat-making for cancer fighters or cupcake-decorating for a local day centre. Clients need not live in the area, or even in the United States.

Elsewhere, Areyvut teams up with synagogues and youth groups to teach kids to be “mitzvah clowns” for residents of long-term care facilities.

I decided to take up Areyvut’s offer to engage in a free phone consultation on my daughter’s mitzvah project idea. She had chosen a complex topic – addressing the economic effects, particularly around access to housing, of urban gentrification. Talking to Areyvut’s staff reminded me that mitzvah projects need not be confined to financial giving. Advocacy and awareness can be just as important.

I decided to take some of these ideas to my own community. Through word of mouth, I initiated a b’nai mitzvah club to help develop mitzvah project ideas. At the first meeting, which we called “Hot Chocolate for Hot Issues,” I led a workshop to get the kids thinking about a given issue, how to identify deeper causes of the problem and how to consider the range of action one might take to address these problems.

For our mitzvah club this year, each child will identify a pressing issue around which he or she is passionate and then develop an action plan, a plan that should involve at least two of the following: fundraising, political advocacy, public awareness and direct action. Fundraising could involve donating a portion of bar or bat mitzvah gift money, or holding a bakeathon or danceathon. Political advocacy might involve letter-writing to elected officials. Public awareness could include an Instagram campaign increasing public understanding of the issue. And direct action means identifying a relevant organization at which the child can volunteer.

Sometimes, there is an identified need, but not an established organization dedicated to it. In these cases, Areyvut can support kids in being more ambitious – for example, in creating their own nonprofit organization. Billy’s Baseballs grew out of a bar mitzvah initiative where a child organized the sending of decorated baseballs to soldiers stationed abroad.

Daniel Rothner, Areyvut’s founder and director, puts it this way. As Jews, we are supposed to be a “light unto the nations,” engaged in making the world a better place, he told me. And the impact extends beyond the Jewish community, he added. He is also passionate about getting kids to think about the deeper causes. What of Dave, the homeless man who appears at the soup kitchen every week? Why does Dave need to come week after week?

Our own b’nai mitzvah club has come a long way from kids reciting the “today I am a fountain pen” joke. As my daughter said, the bar or bat mitzvah milestone means that “technically, you’re becoming a woman or a man and, once you are [an adult], you have a responsibility to help out with the issues in the world and in our community.”

Sanders – both prophet and king?

Bernie Sanders is the first Jew (and first non-Christian) ever to win a presidential primary and be seriously considered as a candidate for the American presidency. Reactions from the Jewish community have been mixed and mostly pretty quiet.

Sanders is very familiar to Ashkenazi Jews like myself: he is basically our socialist uncle. His passionate denunciations, clear-eyed vision of injustice and chutzpah are heimish, almost nostalgic. The progressive Jewish community has seemed hesitant to throw its weight behind him, perhaps because until recently they saw him as unlikely to succeed. Or, maybe, there is a fear of jinxing him: “Shhh, they haven’t really realized he’s Jewish yet.” As Sarah Tuttle-Singer wrote last month in the Times of Israel, one of the great things about Sanders’ ascension is that his Jewishness has been so irrelevant to Americans. Meanwhile, big Jewish financiers, such as George Soros and Donald Sussman, have been backing Hillary Clinton, not Sanders.

So, what is Sanders’ relationship to Judaism? He seems comfortable with his Jewishness and appreciative both of what he finds valuable in the tradition and of Jewish customs. Despite some claims that Sanders has downplayed his Jewishness, J.J. Goldberg recently proved otherwise in a comprehensive analysis published in the Forward Feb. 26. In an article on chabad,org, Dovid Margolin spoke of Sanders’ fight for Chabad’s right to light a public menorah on public property in a key court case, which paved the way for the now-common practice. And Sanders declared the Rebbe’s birthday Education Day in Vermont with words of praise for the Rebbe’s work to universalize education, as well as praising Maimonides (it happened also to be Maimonides’ 850th birthday).

Sanders himself, when asked, has made it clear that he is not a religious Jew. When late-night TV host Jimmy Kimmel asked Sanders last fall whether he believes in God, Sanders responded: “I am what I am … and what I believe in, and what my spirituality is about, is that we’re all in this together.”

“Bernie’s Jewishness is not the Judaism of the shul but of the street,” said Rabbi Dan Moskovitz of Temple Sholom. “It’s not the Judaism of rituals but of the ethical tenets of Judaism: about the holiness code and how you treat others. Bernie is Jewish in his kishkes.”

Sanders is relentless and consistent in his criticisms of the financial elite, his calls for a political system free of legal bribery, and his defence of education and the need for fair wages and medical care. He wants to free Americans from debt and modern slavery, and pull America away from militarism and hatred of the stranger. All of these themes echo in dozens of verses and laws structuring the political vision of the Torah and run deep in Jewish consciousness.

Sanders has called for tougher pressure on Israel to make concessions in peace talks and is known to take J Street seriously. On the other hand, he has defended Israel from attacks from the far left, saying it has a right to defend itself and must be able to establish its own security and long-term viability as a state. He has been among a handful of Senate regulars at the annual conference of the American Israel Public Affairs Committee. Recently, a video surfaced of Sanders giving a speech during the Gaza war in August 2014. Asked by an audience member about Israel’s shelling of Gaza, he agreed that too many civilians had died, but said Hamas had instigated the fighting by firing rockets at Israeli civilians and that Israel has a right to defend itself.

In Israel, Michael Oren has expressed concern about Sanders being overly critical of the Israeli government, while others, including Ravi Eitan, Dov Henin and Yoel Cohen Paran, have expressed a resonance with him, citing his social policies.

Clinton’s campaign has criticized Sanders for his pledge to “normalize” relations with Iran in the wake of the Iran nuclear deal. Sanders agrees that Iran is a “bad actor,” that it funds terrorism and human rights abuses and must not get the atomic bomb, and he has voted to condemn the behavior and rhetoric of the Iranian government several times. But, Sanders argues that normalization is likelier to create the conditions that would spur change. As he said in the last Democrat debate: “It is easy to talk to your friends. It is hard to talk to your enemies. I think we should do both.”

There is no question that ethics is central in Sanders’ mind. It is commonplace for him to make a point by citing a statistic about life in America and then ask rhetorically, “Is this right? Is this moral?”

The most common criticism leveled against Sanders is that he is unrealistic. In The Prophetic Imagination, Walter Brueggeman, a leading scholar of the Hebrew Bible, describes the prophets in words that could apply to Sanders: “The prophet does not ask if the vision can be implemented, for questions of implementation are of no consequence until the vision can be imagined…. The same royal consciousness that makes it possible to implement anything and everything is the one that shrinks imagination because imagination is a danger…. It is the vocation of the prophet to keep alive the ministry of imagination, to keep on conjuring and proposing futures alternative to the single one the king wants to urge as the only thinkable one.”

Sanders, of course, is trying to be king, as well. But the charges that he is not practical fail to adequately consider his decades of service as a senator and his time as an effective and popular mayor of Burlington. He was known both for idealistic stances and for taking care of the “nuts and bolts of the job,” as his former campaign manager Jim Schumacher stated. The real question is how Sanders would function in the presidency and with the Republicans in Congress. Time will tell whether we’ll have the chance to find out.

Matthew Gindin is a writer, lecturer and holistic therapist. As well as teaching holistic medicine, Gindin regularly lectures on topics in Jewish and world spirituality, and has a particular passion for making ancient wisdom traditions relevant in the modern world. His work has been featured on Elephant Journal, the Zen Site and Wisdom Pills, and he blogs at Talis in Wonderland (mgindin.wordpress.com) and Voices (hashkata.com).

NGOs should flaunt funding

The Transparency Bill, also known as the NGO Bill, received cabinet approval in December and is, therefore, closer to becoming law in Israel. The bill requires any Israeli nongovernmental organization receiving more than half its funding from foreign governments to disclose this in all written communications with elected officials; to declare it orally when meeting in places where public officials gather; and, perhaps most chillingly, to require these NGO representatives to wear a badge indicating this funding whenever they visit the Knesset. The government’s coalition members have already agreed to support the bill when it is presented to the Knesset.

It’s no wonder left-wing NGOs and their supporters are bristling at the bill, seeing it, rightly, as targeting them specifically. Right-wing NGOs tend to get their foreign funding from individuals (who are often more difficult to track) rather than from governments. Given the current composition of the Israeli government, right-wing NGOs also naturally seek to support and intensify existing government policies, whereas left-wing NGOs are more likely to challenge the government’s policies. The bill is also somewhat redundant, since all NGOs are already required to declare their funding sources.

Nonetheless, should the bill pass, NGOs should wear their scarlet letter proudly. Unlike the literary figure Hester Prynne who flouted her community’s norms by committing adultery, Israeli NGOs are not only upholding the democratic norms of their own country, but are indeed enacting the norms of a much larger world than their own: specifically, global international society.

Consider the foreign government funding sources of ACRI, Israel’s premier civil liberties association. These donor countries are exclusively democracies. Ditto the country donors to B’Tselem, Israel’s premier human rights organization. Adalah, New Israel Fund, Sikkuy: all of these rights groups in Israel receive funding not from authoritarian regimes who trade in tyranny and persecution, but from democracies.

What do democracies have in common? Namely, a mission to uphold the practices that define them: openness, transparency, protection of the individual and of minorities, human rights, civil liberties and freedom. Expressing these norms is one of the main explanations for one of the most enduring features of the international system: the tendency for democracies to never go to war with one another. In believing that fellow democracies act with similar degrees of openness and debate, democratic governments inherently trust one another to solve disputes peacefully.

Democratic governments also have another unique quality: by design, they speak for their majority. Right now, the donor countries to these NGOs are mostly European. (Some United Nations bodies are represented, as well as USAID.) Imagine if every democracy in the world chose to funnel some of their foreign aid budget to Israeli NGOs: these Israeli groups would then be acting as an extension of global democratic society writ large, the best slice of human capital the world currently boasts.

On the day of the vote, the Zionist Union wore protest tags declaring “a Jew doesn’t mark another Jew: a Jew doesn’t mark another human being.” Galei Tzahal, Israel’s army radio, has revealed that 98% of Netanyahu’s campaign donations are from donors abroad. An American petition is circulating urging “President Obama and Congress to support U.S. legislation and regulations that would ensure that similar restrictions to whatever is enacted in the Knesset against ‘foreign funding’ of Israeli human rights groups are applied in the U.S. to private U.S. funding of the Israeli right and the settler movement.” And now, a group of American citizens have filed a lawsuit against the U.S. Treasury, attempting to rescind the nonprofit status of 150 American NGOs that apparently send billions of dollars to the settlements and to the Israel Defence Forces.

These are understandable rearguard actions. But perhaps supporters of human rights and civil liberties are looking the wrong way.

The Israeli government worries about Israel being “delegitimized” in international circles. The best hope for Israel is for the country’s fellow democracies to believe in Israeli civil society enough to continue to boost it. Until the upholders of democratic values give up on Israel altogether – and I sure hope that does not happen – Israeli NGOs should boast proudly of their foreign democratic government funding. It follows, too, that the Israeli government should be grateful for it. Amid all the delegitimization stemming from Israel’s running of a patently undemocratic regime in the West Bank, which regularly flouts human rights and civil liberties, the good work of these Israeli NGOs – the cornerstone of Israeli civil society – is the best reminder that there is hope for democratic Israel yet.