bias

Against their best interests

Writers often get submission calls saying “Sorry, we cannot pay you, but our publication is widely distributed. You’ll get great exposure!” I don’t bother, thinking something like “No, thanks. I live in Manitoba, Canada. We can die of exposure.”

For most, writing isn’t lucrative. If I sell an article, sometimes the cheque covers the grocery bill. Years ago, I decided that I don’t work for free. I avoid residencies and literary submissions with reading fees. Even a well-appointed writer’s residency often costs money for travel, food or lodging. Meanwhile, I pay for utilities and care for my kids, so I write at home. It’s cheaper. Same for reading fees. Although small publications need support, if I pay them to read my submission, it conflicts with my goal to get paid. It’s common sense when trying to make a living.

In early November, I read Winnipeg Free Press editor Ben Sigurdson’s column about writers, books and awards called “Paper Chase.” The headline read “Authors, artists boycott Israeli cultural orgs.” It summarized a petition signed by “thousands” of writers, listing by name some with Manitoba connections. These writers choose to avoid working with Israeli cultural and literary institutions, publications and festivals because they are ostensibly “complicit in violating Palestinian rights.” The petition doesn’t mention Hamas, which governs Gaza. It doesn’t hold Hamas or Egypt accountable for their contributions to the crisis or mention Oct. 7. There’s no reference to the wider global conflict, which includes Iran and Hezbollah, among others.

By withdrawing their work, these authors want to punish non-political Israeli entities. They assume that, with their great literary fame, they’re important enough that their choice matters. They wish to deprive Israelis of hearing or reading their work. Due to their moral outrage, these authors won’t earn money from Hebrew translation rights, appearances at Israeli universities, conferences, festivals or book signings.

I noted that Sigurdson’s column removed the name of Jonah Corne, a Jewish University of Manitoba professor, from his list of Manitobans who boycott Israel’s literary scene. I don’t know why he did that.

Some suggest these protests are against Israel, where half the world’s Jewish population resides, but not against diaspora Jews. Why then leave a Jewish Manitoban off the “notables” who joined the boycott? Is it a mistake, or a tell? This protest conflates all Jews and Israelis, no matter one’s political beliefs or where one lives.

Writers fail to look after their own self-interests, be they monetary or ethnic, with this type of activism. Signing a petition could bring an author’s work attention, assuming “any publicity is good publicity.” Yet not all Manitobans on the petition got that dubious editorial publicity. Omitting a Jewish Canadian from the list of Manitobans who signed the boycott smells fishy.

Sigurdson also didn’t mention the long list of authors and creatives who signed a counter-petition by the Creative Community for Peace. This group is against discriminatory cultural boycotts. They support free expression for all. This list includes many recognizable names, from popular and intellectual circles, including Ozzy Osbourne, Mayim Bialik, Bernard-Henri Lévy and Gene Simmons, among others. Professors, actors, directors, musicians, Pulitzer-winning journalists and Nobel Prize-winning authors populate this list. These creative communicators, against boycotts and for free speech, include Jewish writers, but also allies.

This connects to the commotion about Canada’s Giller Prize. Jack Rabinovitch started this prize in honour of his late wife, the journalist Doris Giller. This award is Canada’s largest literary fiction prize, which comes with $100,000. The prize highlights Canada’s diversity and literary excellence and is sponsored by Scotiabank. It’s now fashionable to protest the prize and Scotiabank’s investment in Israeli arms manufacturer Elbit Systems. The petition lists others, including Indigo and Audible. Many authors now protest and boycott the jury. Others pull their work from consideration and sign petitions against the Giller via “Canlit Responds.”

The Globe and Mail’s Marsha Lederman writes that, if Scotiabank were sufficiently pressured, it might withdraw sponsorship from the prize rather than fully divest from whatever financial investment offends the protesters. No other sponsor would be likely to take on a prize that comes with so much protest baggage. The largest Canadian literary fiction award would disappear. Have these protesting authors thought this through? If the Giller Prize collapses, Canadian fiction authors can no longer benefit from it.

Rabinovitch and Giller were Jewish Canadians. This prize celebrates Canadian literature. In 1972, Giller, as a Montreal Star writer, worked as a correspondent in Israel, but this couple lived in Canada. Protesters forget to be grateful. The generosity of this prize and the positive attention it brings Canada’s literary scene shouldn’t be underestimated. Lederman writes that protesters haven’t targeted other large literary awards with financial ties to Israel or many other businesses on the boycott list. Is this protest about financial ties to the Middle Eastern conflict, or is it about bias against Jews, even if they live in Canada?

Practically, writers must make money if they want to work in their field. Publicity for political pet causes might make money from literary appearances, book signings, sales, or translations. But boycotting financial opportunities and suppressing access to books doesn’t help writers support themselves. Many readers support worldwide free expression and won’t purchase the books of those who boycott. Some readers won’t support those who hold Israeli cultural institutions, literary events or citizens responsible for a conflict that spans the Middle East. We don’t hold the Giller Prize, a literary award, responsible for North American political conflicts and policies. Why hold it and Israeli literary institutions responsible for a war started by Hamas and Iran?

In Canada, we celebrate diversity. The 2024 Giller Prize jury writes: “Writers of fiction imagine … what it means to be another: to be marginalized, to be suppressed, to be guilty – to be joyful! – or simply not seen.” Writers remain unseen and marginalized when readers don’t buy or read their work.

Further, Canadians have marginalized Jews, both in Canada and worldwide since Oct. 7, 2023, failing to condemn Hamas or antisemitism. For those who choose boycotts, that “othering” and marginalization of the world’s small Jewish population remains acceptable. Some now believe that, when it comes to the cultural contributions of Jewish Canadians, “none is too many.”

Cutting communication with the Israeli literary scene threatens Canadian cultural institutions. A political boycott also threatens half the world’s population of Jews, those in Israel. It doesn’t embrace free expression or bring peace. As Lederman suggests, it’s unlikely to help any Palestinians.

Boycotts allow writers to shoot themselves in the foot. Writers can’t pay for essentials when they aren’t paid for their work. Without big awards, even famous writers sometimes can’t pay for groceries. Limiting readership limits income. It’s noteworthy that, while past Giller winners protest, the media hasn’t reported on anyone returning that $100,000 prize.

Choosing diversity means including all Canadians, even Jewish Canadians who create opportunities like the Giller Prize. When it comes to how we behave, cause and effect still matter, even when writing and selling fiction.

Joanne Seiff has written regularly for the Winnipeg Free Press and various Jewish publications. She is the author of three books, including From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016, a collection of essays available for digital download or as a paperback from Amazon. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.

There is value in diluted wine

Recently, a stranger responded to a forum post I wrote on Ravelry, a knitting website. I’ve worked off and on for many years designing knitting patterns. In the last four years, I’ve been distracted by the pandemic, by moving house and renovation, and the war. I haven’t put out any new patterns for awhile. Then, hit by a variety of antisemitic interactions, I decided I didn’t want to market my past work either. Most of my patterns are like anyone else’s, but a few show my Jewish identity. This includes two kippah knitting patterns and a hamantashen grogger design.

So, I mentioned my hesitancy about marketing during wartime to a Jewish knitters’ group. Out of the blue, I got a screed from an outsider that shows just why I’m wary. According to this response, I’m one of those “people without a soul.” Among many other comments, it was insinuated that

Israelis appropriated everything – we even stole hummus. Of course, the “we” showed exactly how jumbled up this person was. She assumed all Jews were Israelis or that all Israelis were Jews. The person didn’t understand the word “antisemitism” at all. It was quite a daunting paragraph. I knew many things about this hateful post were off base, as did others who were on this forum. Despite multiple reports about this screed, however, the website’s owners didn’t respond to us or promptly remove the hateful post.

Meanwhile, my household encountered hateful graffiti about the war in our neighbourhood again, which we reported to the police. This is at least our fifth report; there’s an investigation complete with incident numbers, as most of the graffiti isn’t about the war but simply Jew-hatred.

I then read a biased media report online. Recognizing the name of a journalist associated with it, I contacted her – and here’s where the narrative changes.

The journalist was open to my concerns, thoughtful, and the article was immediately edited. The police contacts I have dealt with have been unfailingly responsive and empathetic. I was comforted by professionals who saw our concerns, indicated they too saw the hate or bias, and acted on it. These were smart people who used their roles to stand up for what is right. Were they allies in every way? I wouldn’t go so far as to say that, but, in these instances, I felt less alone.

As part of my Daf Yomi (page of Talmud a day), I’ve been learning the Babylonian tractate of Bava Batra. In Bava Batra, on page 96, a question arises. At what point is a food so significantly transformed that we need to change the blessing we say when eating it? Rabbi Elliot Goldberg introduces this in an essay on My Jewish Learning, and it gets at the weird gradations we encounter and how to categorize them. On this page, there’s a question that relates to beverages. At what point is a drink derived from grapes so watered down that it’s no longer wine, and now just some sort of flavoured water? I immediately understood this because, centuries later, I’ve also had those bubbly waters flavoured with “real fruit.” Is there any actual nutrition from the fruit in what we are drinking? No, there isn’t. It’s usually just a little grape taste in the carbonated water. It tastes good, but it’s not juice.

My household traveled in September to a family bat mitzvah in New York City. There were many great moments during the weekend, including the bat mitzvah, which was held at the famous congregation, the Society for the Advancement of Judaism. This is where Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan served on the pulpit and the cantor was famous for composing “Hava Nagila.” Reconstructionist Judaism started in this building. There was good food, some great sightseeing. I especially enjoyed the perfect fall weather in Central Park during Shabbat, watching cousins play and chat in the playground.

Even so, I don’t love travel. A 12-hour journey, two airplanes, an international border and huge crowds can be a drag. Like the diluted wine conversation, it reminds me that not everything is obvious. Some dilution (or travel) is fine. Too much can result in a less pleasurable experience that we must bless and define differently.

On the airplanes, I read a novel, Suzanne Joinson’s A Lady Cyclist’s Guide to Kashgar. At first, it appeared to be a story about women missionaries and their proselytizing efforts in Western China. By the end of the novel, it was about sexual assault, lack of medical care, gender identity, riots and war, colonization, British identity, exoticism, refugees and more. Just like diluted wine, sometimes things are not what they initially appear to be about. A book I sought out as entertainment was something more.

So, too, what we see as entertaining or as a diverting hobby – a knitting project, for instance – can be more. The design is a piece of technical writing, the finished garment keeps us warm and, somehow, discussion about it can turn into an opportunity for those who hate. Even the chore of reporting something can turn positive, via an opportunity for dialogue with a journalist or police officer, or negative, when a site’s moderators and owners fail to respond appropriately or quickly.

During the High Holy Days, we reflect on our behaviour, with clear markers of right and wrong, good and evil. Usually, that is more than enough to think about, but, this year, everything I ponder is tinged with this last year of tragedy, war and its aftermath. As I escape into the outdoors, a good conversation or a novel, I go back to the talmudic conversation about diluting wine. The past year has felt “diluted” to me by the sadness and the war and antisemitism. Yet, I hope, as always, that Sukkot will bring good weather for sitting outdoors, and interesting conversations. Simchat Torah might give me a chance to dance with the Torah with joy and without reservation.

As I sat in Central Park, a cousin asked me, with only a little smirk, if I was still into “the knitting thing.” I paused. It’s OK to acknowledge that our intellectual energies and what we find entertaining have changed or diluted during this time. Many have changed irrevocably since Oct. 7, 2023. The High Holy Days offer us an opportunity to get back in touch with ourselves and consider who we are. The changes may be hard ones. We may be “diluted” differently, but the change itself isn’t bad. Rather, it’s part of life’s journey. Here’s hoping for sunny moments in the sukkah this fall, but, if it snows instead here in Winnipeg or it rains in Vancouver, we can’t control that. We can just control how we understand and bless it. Gam zu le’tovah, this too is for the best.

Joanne Seiff has written regularly for the Winnipeg Free Press and various Jewish publications. She is the author of three books, including From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016, a collection of essays available for digital download or as a paperback from Amazon. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.

Think first, then share news

When I write articles lately, they’re usually columns with an Opinion header near the editorial section. Most writers try to back their opinions up with research and information. I’m no different. However, some readers can be easily swayed regardless of the facts involved. This was clear to me when I ate dinner at a neighbour’s home recently. I chatted with my host about a syndicated columnist who gives succinct opinions about all sorts of world politics.

The writer’s accessible approach makes it seem like his opinions are solid. His tone is breezy and confident. But he covers so many different world events and conflicts that I wondered how he knew so much about it all. My host suggested he had a large staff to help him. I doubted this. Writing’s just not that profitable these days.

Here’s why I grew to doubt this columnist’s work. When it came to how he analyzes Israel and the Middle East, I have some academic background in the subject and I read widely. I saw where I disagreed with his assumptions. In several cases, I had more information about the issues than he presented. I saw his bias. I questioned what I read. Yes, his work is always on the newspaper’s editorial page. It’s always an analysis piece but that doesn’t mean his facts and conclusions are always correct. Now when I read his work, I see the “mansplaining” tone. He’s overconfident and oversimplifies big conflicts. Sadly, I suspect few people call him on it.

My host and I had this exchange while talking about mainstream media. In North America, we like to think our journalism is objective, fair and impartial. When I was a kid, my family visited relatives in France. I noticed the sheer quantity of publications on the French newsstands. More than one relative explained that they subscribed to certain newspapers that represented their political view and bought others with differing views. This way, they could get a full picture of world events. They acknowledged that everyone had biases and that media wasn’t objective. The way to get a fair representation of events was by doing more: more reading, more information gathering, critical comparison and analysis.

My recent Talmud study, from the tractate Bava Batra, has taken me through some fun “tall tale” narratives from Rabbah bar bar Hanna. He was prone to exaggeration. In Bava Batra 73, he sees enormous antelopes and a frog as big as 60 houses. He claims that a dragon swallows the frog, which is then eaten by a raven. The raven then sat in a tree. Can you believe, he says, how sturdy that tree was?

When Dr. Sara Ronis introduces these stories in the My Jewish Learning essay for this page, she calls them what they are: a real fish tale. (You should have seen the fish that got away!) These myths also perhaps have parallels to a Zoroastrian text called the Bundahishn, according to Drs. Reuven Kipperwasser and Dan Shapira. The stories might be crazy, but they were floating around in the ether of multicultural Babylonian marketplaces. Rabbah bar bar Hanna returns to the study hall with his crazy stories. The other rabbis call him on his nonsense. They insult him and call him names, criticizing his choices. There are lots of modern scholarly opinions about why the other talmudic rabbis do this, and what it means. It’s a topic for academic debate.

However, what if this is an ancient reminder for us? What if, during this period of Elul, when we’re supposed to start doing serious introspection, we’re also supposed to be examining exactly what crazy stories we’re swallowing? Imagine social media and news outlets as our marketplace. Maybe we’re bringing home Zoroastrian tall tales and repackaging them for our own consumption. The rabbis teach us in Bava Batra that swallowing these fish tales whole is not the smartest move. The rabbis ask why Rabbah bar bar Hanna didn’t just stop and think more before bringing this “stuff” home with him.

We’re often plied with misinformation – about the war in Israel, but also about other news. What do we know about Russia and Ukraine, repression in Iran, the Uyghurs or the Sudanese crisis? How much propaganda has been sent our way and who paid for it? It’s hard to tell. Too often, a seemingly objective, sincere journalist’s narrative might mislead us simply because their unconscious bias and opinion is submerged in the text. The editor’s headline guides us, too.

Worse, sometimes it’s not subconscious bias. Sometimes, it’s bots or outright propaganda, paid for by a country that wants to mess up North American elections or culture. I’m not a conspiracy theorist. I believe that, like the rabbis suggest to Rabbah bar bar Hanna, one should reflect on things you read or hear, really look at them, and think critically.

This season’s the time when we’re supposed to be examining our deeds since last year. Most of us were guilty of complacency in this past year. Last Sukkot, we couldn’t have imagined what was ahead. If someone had described what was to come, we would have accused them of telling an abhorrent tall tale. For many, Oct. 7 and its aftermath have been one scary, real and gruesome nightmare.

It’s easy to understand complacency. We want to feel safe. We don’t want there to be metaphorical enormous frogs or dragons around the corner. That said, we owe it to ourselves to be like the rabbis in the study hall who called out Rabbah bar bar Hanna. Those rabbis asked bar bar Hanna to pause and think more about what he saw, read or told them.

In the spirit of the High Holidays, let’s be true to ourselves. There is plenty of horrific real news for us to share. Let’s read widely first. Let’s keep our eyes open so we recognize bias and what is really happening before we pass something along. Let’s avoid the rumours and speculation, too.

Wishing you a sweet, happy, healthy and peaceful 5785, free of misinformation.

Joanne Seiff has written regularly for the Winnipeg Free Press and various Jewish publications. She is the author of three books, including From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016, a collection of essays available for digital download or as a paperback from Amazon. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.

We must keep asking “why?”

Our short Canadian summer is full of wonder. We try to spend lots of time outdoors, finding things to marvel at on dog walks and even on errands. While we might not be out in the bush too often, we still can spot foxes, deer, woodpeckers, butterflies and moths, as well as magnificent gardens, in our neighbourhood in Winnipeg’s city core. As toddlers and preschoolers, children go through a “why?” phase. Everything is a question. Parents must come up with meaningful but short answers every time. However, as our tweens transition to teens, I have been pleasantly surprised to discover there are still a lot of “whys” being asked.

On a practical level, sometimes I end up saying “that’s a Google question” because I cannot remember every detail of European history. If our resident biology professor dad isn’t home, we’re trying to figure out flora and fauna on our own. (Hint: there’s an app for everything now.) Most of all, I am thrilled that intellectual curiosity is still a thing. Our household still finds space to wonder about how things work, what things are called and why events evolved in one way or another.

Just the other evening, I admonished our kid about being gracious about gifts. He didn’t know what I meant. We stopped to discuss the phrase “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth” and take apart what it means. This kind of daily learning is an exciting part of life, and especially in summer, when we have hours at a stretch to talk and think about things, as well as seeing natural wonders, going to museums, meeting new people, reading and listening together. Pursuing this kind of informal learning makes a well-rounded education.

I continue to study Daf Yomi, a page of Talmud a day, and right now we’re studying the tractate of Bava Batra, one of the three Bavas (translated as “gates”) that deal in civil law. I find nuggets of wisdom in these tractates, even as some of them seem dry to other students. If you’re wondering, for instance, who pays for a fence, or making the decisions about erecting a fence across a shared courtyard? The beginning of Bava Batra will help you figure out whether this is possible, and how to get along with your neighbour in the process. Each issue is examined with a “why?” lens.

How does one decide where you’re from? If you’ve lived in many places (I have), this is a real question. Do you define home as where you were born? Where you lived the most years? Which kitchen or garden you liked best? This is examined on Bava Batra 11, which suggests that, if you’ve lived in a city for 12 months, you can be considered a resident. However, if you buy a house earlier than that, or even, according to Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel, land that would be suitable for building a house, you’re immediately considered a resident. This bit of ancient law discussion struck me as useful in an age where so many decisions are made based on where one lives: where one votes, gets health care, sends kids to school and other bureaucratic needs. Establishing residency is still often up for discussion.

There is an advantage to maintaining intellectual curiosity and nurturing critical thinking when it comes to negotiating the world. As recently as a year or two ago, I would have been upset to think that one should be getting news from social media or email newsletters. Now, however, I find access to multiple reports about the Israel-Gaza war in English and Hebrew, through Instagram and X (formerly Twitter). I then end up satiating my curiosity by clicking through to read from multiple other news sources, finding out about elections in Europe, antisemitism worldwide, or even locating (and avoiding) possibly violent protests in my own city. Asking “why? why? why?” becomes a daily necessity in trying to decipher both what’s happening and the political angle of those who write the articles, blogs or tweets.

A recent piece covering humanitarian aid distribution in Gaza on the CBC, for instance, used the word “Hamas” only once, when mentioning “Hamas-led militants” on Oct. 7. The word “Israel” could be found on the page 18 times. While 18 is a lucky number, in this case, it sounds like an uncritical reader could lay blame on one side simply through repetition. One might completely lose sight of why Gazans are in this mess in the first place. If, perhaps, Hamas chose to stop firing rockets into Israel? It might be easier to distribute supplies and return to normality. Also, the journalist mentioned Egypt only twice. Egypt also shares a border with Gaza. Egypt could choose to facilitate humanitarian aid. Whose responsibility is this? The article’s slant, and the journalist’s bio, made me suspect a bias. When examining the journalist’s X posts online, I saw only one side of this conflict emphasized. It didn’t reference anything about Oct. 7 or Israel’s experience.

It can be hard right now to maintain an even keel while facing the barrage of information about the Gaza war, Russia’s war on Ukraine, politics in Canada, the United States and Europe, and the famines and violent conflicts elsewhere in the world. Unplugging and getting out to see and do things with family, taking a vacation, exploring wild places, helps us recalibrate. It can also boost our “why?” skills so we can return refreshed, with energy to analyze all the new craziness as it erupts.

I’ve just begun Bava Batra, but one topic hit early on is where and how to donate charity to do the most good. Bava Batra 8b reminds us that money donated towards “saving captives” is a great mitzvah, the biggest commandment/good deed that one can do. Sometimes, an ancient text can remind us to readjust our priorities. Reading critically and asking “why?” are essential to Talmud and rabbinic discourse. It’s also essential for us. We must keep helping our children ask “why?” We ourselves must maintain the wonder that enables us to stay curiously critical thinkers.

Joanne Seiff has written regularly for the Winnipeg Free Press and various Jewish publications. She is the author of three books, including From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016, a collection of essays available for digital download or as a paperback from Amazon. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.

Gallup poll concerning

A Gallup poll released last week shows that, for the first time, Democratic voters in the United States sympathize more with Palestinians than with Israelis.

Among Democratic voters contacted, 49% sympathize more with the Palestinians and 38% with Israelis. Among Republicans, sympathy for Israel remains overwhelming, at 78%.

The poll should raise concerns – but not only for the most obvious reasons.

Halie Soifer, head of the Jewish Democratic Council of America, hit the nail on the head when she told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency that the question paints a false dichotomy. (First, though, she noted that the Democratic Party’s leadership is overwhelmingly pro-Israel, whether that is reflected across the grassroots or not.)

“Democrats – from President Biden on down – strongly support Israel’s safety and security,” she said. But, crucially, she added: “There is no contradiction between being pro-Israel and supporting Palestinian rights, which is why Democrats continue to support a two-state solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, as well as security assistance for Israel and humanitarian assistance to the Palestinians. The Israeli-Palestinian conflict is not a zero-sum game, and thus polling that presents it as a binary choice is inherently flawed.”

Calling people on the telephone at dinnertime to ask them how to solve an intransigent international conflict is not likely to advance the most constructive ideas for resolution. Simplistic formulations are inevitable, nuance flies out the door. Questions become self-reinforcing, a sort of unintentional “push poll.” (A push poll is an unethical strategy used sometimes in political campaigns intended not to gauge public opinion but to influence it: “If you knew that Candidate A had a history of drowning puppies and pulling wings off flies, would that make you more or less likely to vote for them?”)

This is not to blame Gallup, an established and respected polling firm. Their question unfortunately, reflects a common narrative, an either/or. That, as Soifer said, is a false dichotomy.

To be genuinely pro-Israel demands we be pro-Palestinian because finding a resolution to 75-plus years of conflict requires some sort of resolution to the statelessness of Palestinians. Equally, being pro-Palestinian demands we be pro-Israel, because compromise and coexistence is the only thing that will result in Palestinian self-determination.

Of course, acknowledging this is the easy part. How to behave in “pro-Israel” and “pro-Palestinian” ways is the muddy part. Those who call themselves “pro-Palestinian” often behave in ways that preclude the very thing they claim to advance. By denying Israel’s right to exist, for example, they ensure that compromise is taken off the table and, since that is the route to Palestinian self-determination, they betray the very definition of “pro-Palestinian.”

Those who are “pro-Israel” also need to temper their extremes. It is fair to say that, during the Oslo process, Israelis demonstrated a consensus toward coexistence that has understandably waned since the violence of the Second Intifada. But, for example, the common and senseless mantra we see from some commentators on social media that “there is no such thing as a Palestinian people” is a fruitless – and racist – squabble. Deny their history, reject the legitimacy of their land claims – there are still people there whose present and future demands a serious form of address and dignity.

To be clear: the sometimes-stated idea that the status quo cannot hold is simply not true. It has, by and large, held since 1967 and it could continue for another generation or more unless mutual compromise emerges to change that. The status quo arguably harms Palestinians more than it harms Israelis, which has led to an assumption that Israel must be in favour of the status quo. As a consequence, overseas activists have blamed Israel for the situation on the assumption that, as the perceived powerful party, it is the only one that can break the impasse. This is partly, if not mostly, untrue. Compromise must come from both sides and chants like “From the river to the sea …” and “Intifada! Revolution! There is only one solution!” the latter of which echoes Nazi slogans, will not “free Palestine.” They will, however, influence public opinion.

We should be concerned by the results of the Gallup poll – it indicates that decades of building multilateral support for Israel’s security among Americans (and, by extension almost certainly Canadians and Europeans) is failing. But, we should be concerned for another reason. It reinforces a false belief that we can only call ourselves pro-Israel or pro-Palestinian. Until we can legitimately call ourselves both, none of us deserves to call ourselves “pro-peace.”