critical thinking

Reviving civil discourse

Heterodox Academy is a nonprofit organization dedicated to promoting viewpoint diversity, open inquiry and constructive debate in higher education. It works to counter ideological conformity on campuses by providing research, resources and programming that foster an environment where diverse perspectives are welcomed and critically examined.

If that sounds like what a university is intended to be, says one local professor, it’s a commentary on the state of contemporary campuses that such an organization is necessary to encourage the academy to live up to its principles.

Dr. Rachel Altman, associate professor in the statistics and actuarial science department at Simon Fraser University, is one of the campus co-chairs of the Heterodox Academy chapter at SFU.

“Heterodox Academy is an organization that fosters free, open inquiry and free discussion even about controversial issues,” she said. “It’s not just about freedom of speech. It’s also about our conduct, the way we have these conversations. I think that’s what really distinguishes it from the general free speech advocacy groups.”

photo - Dr. Rachel Altman is one of the campus co-chairs of the Heterodox Academy chapter at Simon Fraser University — Dr. Rachel Altman is one of the campus co-chairs of the Heterodox Academy chapter at Simon Fraser University. *(photo from SFU)*

Heterodox Academy provides guidelines that urge interlocutors to present their case with evidence, bring data when possible, assume the best of one’s opponent and be intellectually humble, among other principles.

HxA, as it is shorthanded, offers events, conferences, resources and other materials that “try to teach our society, especially within academia, how to interact in a productive and civilized way, even when we disagree,” she said.

These tools are intended to help bridge the divide between the ideal of a university and the reality of creating a dynamic marketplace of ideas.

“Just because we have it in our head that in the academy we should be able to discuss anything in a civilized way doesn’t mean we actually know how to do it,” she said. “They provide tools and modeling of those tools to actually teach people how to be civilized.”

The HxA chapter at SFU emerged after a group of scholars got together because they were concerned about the state of academic freedom at the university. They founded the SFU Academic Freedom Group.

Within a few months of that group’s founding, Heterodox Academy launched its Campus Community Program, recognizing chapters on individual campuses. Some SFU professors applied and were accepted among the first chapters chartered.

“We hosted a so-called Heterodox Conversation event this past September,” she said. “That’s a model developed by HxA where you invite two people who have different views on a topic and they sit down and have a conversation with the model [called] the Heterodox Way and then the audience gets involved and we have a group discussion.”

The topic of that dialogue was “The purpose of today’s Canadian universities.”

“The timing was perfect because, just the previous week, our president had issued a statement on institutional neutrality,” she said, referring to an announcement by SFU’s president, Joy Johnson, on maintaining an environment where scholarly inquiry remains unbiased by partisan agendas. “For me, I was celebrating like crazy, but there were others on campus who were very unhappy.”

Altman can’t say whether the Heterodox Academy chapter or the SFU Academic Freedom Group deserve credit for the president’s statement or for other recent developments she and her colleagues view as positive.

“I’m a statistician, so I rarely claim causation,” she said wryly. “I’m very conservative that way. But I think so.”

The groups are comparatively small, but they may be having an outsized impact.

“Everybody knows about us,” she said. “The administration clearly knows and it’s just been so gratifying to see the change in the whole tenor of the administration’s approaches over the last couple of years. It’s a clear change.”

Numbers may remain relatively small, Altman suspects, because of a false perception of their group.

“We are consistently being cast as this right-wing, conservative group and it’s not true,” she said. “We have people across the political spectrum in the group. It is a nonpartisan group.”

The idea that academic freedom and institutional neutrality are right-wing positions, she said, is belied, for example, by the gay rights movement, which emerged in the 1960s, in part thanks to the viewpoint diversity of campuses.

It is not a coincidence, Altman believes, that several HxA members, including herself, are Jewish.

“Jews have a long tradition of arguing and debating in a civilized way, the whole ‘two Jews, three opinions’ thing,” she said. “Jews are just a natural fit with the HxA model.”

In contrast, the equity, diversity and inclusion (EDI) model that has become increasingly prevalent on North American campuses in recent years is antithetical both to the academic ideal and to Jews, she argued.

“For some Jews like myself, I realized very early on that the EDI ideology that’s become so predominant in academia and elsewhere, that it was terrible for Jews,” she said. “This model of the oppressed and the oppressor, it didn’t work. Jews did not fit into that mold.”

EDI is the opposite of what it claims to be, said Altman.

“I think it’s exclusionary, it discriminates against groups,” she said. “It’s antithetical to everything I believe in because I truly believe in inclusion and anti-discrimination.… I was very unhappy about the rise of the EDI ideology and, in my groups of people who are also similarly concerned about that ideology, I think Jews are overrepresented. That would suggest I’m not the only Jewish person who sees the fundamental conflict, the contradictions in the EDI ideology.”

Altman said few people would openly admit they oppose academic freedom.

“Really, it becomes about the definition of academic freedom,” she said. “When I say I support academic freedom, that’s the end of my sentence. What I look for when I’m talking to people is the ‘but’ that can follow. ‘Of course, I support academic freedom, but … there are limits.’ Things like that.”

In some cases, Altman thinks, this equivocation comes from a lack of understanding around the core principles of academic freedom.

“But then, there are some people who truly want to change the foundation of the term, the concept,” she said. “They truly believe that we should have limits on both our academic freedom and our freedom of expression more generally.”

In addition to the SFU branch, Heterodox Academy has a chapter at the University of British Columbia, Okanagan. While there are some HxA members at the Vancouver campus of UBC, Altman said, there is not yet an official chapter there.

For more information, visit heterodoxacademy.org.

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.

Criticism is hard but vital

A year ago, for an important birthday, we bought a mature lemon tree. This perhaps sounds absurd because we live in Winnipeg, which has extremely cold winter temperatures. However, our home has a heated sunroom and the lemon tree, in its pot, blossomed and bore fruit. When warm weather came, we moved it outside to enjoy the summer. The outdoor location, against a wall, sheltered the tree and two lemons ripened.

My kibbutz year came back as I picked that first lemon. The lemon blossoms perfumed the indoor air as they came and went. Off-the-tree citrus, just like any other fresh produce, tastes so much better than anything bought at a grocery store. While lemons offer a sharp, puckery sour taste, their zest and juice absolutely make food sparkle.

I posted about our “crop” of two lemons on social media. Immediately, I had a friend from Israel commenting on how lemons were her favourite fruit. Two other North Americans asked how we managed to grow them. I sensed their excitement through their onscreen responses.

This experience recalled another scenario, which plays out regularly in Jewish life – that of feedback, or constructive criticism. I was a blunt kid, accused of being not just assertive but aggressive at times. Instead of cloaking things in demure, “ladylike” manners, I said what I thought. I took to heart the idea that everyone can improve and that we should have high expectations. Yes, criticism can be difficult, and it’s sometimes unwarranted, but, without it, we sometimes can’t grow and improve as individuals or communities.

I recently took part in a Jewish business fair for newcomers at our Jewish community centre. Sponsored by Jewish Child and Family Services, it uplifted many who had moved from elsewhere. I loved the opportunity. I smiled and chatted with everyone who came to my writing and editing booth. One community member recognized me and took the time to let me know she was sorry nothing was good enough for me here. Her view of my work, written over many years for both Jewish and non-Jewish publications, was overwhelmingly negative. I responded cheerfully, suggesting that there were many good things about Winnipeg’s Jewish community, but that it was also a good thing to learn about other possibilities from elsewhere, reflect and improve. She sniffed disapprovingly and walked away.

This interaction reflected other times when I’ve been asked for suggestions or advice. The responses often included some version of “That’s not how we do things here” with a sneer, grumble or angry tone. Even when the feedback includes a lot of praise and support, including data or anecdotal evidence from other communities, some people are defensive and aren’t ready to hear it.

In some cases, I’ve heard “since I didn’t land that gig/volunteer position/award, I was just offering sour grapes.” Sour grapes are that metaphor for saucy words we offer when we’ve been rejected and react with impulsive hurt, though sour grapes make good wine. That pucker-up taste, just like with lemons, can do wonders, with time, to improve food and drink.

A wise friend, a Holocaust survivor in her mid-80s, asked for feedback after our family’s lifecycle event at our congregation. Akin to an exit interview, it’s important to have congregants’ thoughts on how the synagogue is doing, what went well and what could be done better. I took the time to respond. I sent the information to the people in responsible positions who should see it. I also wrote a separate gushing, positive note about the livestreaming feed, which is so inclusive for us when we cannot be in the building. I got a response from someone about the livestreaming feed email. I’ve received nothing so far about the constructive criticism.

It’s normal to feel defensive about criticism, especially if it hits hard or close to the bone. Yet, a professional should be able to respond. Feedback helps us grow, whether as a customer service-oriented synagogue or a business. I have struggled with this. Rejection and negative feedback are part of being a writer.

I used to joke that a swift, rude rejection didn’t reflect on my work. Instead, I imagined a grouchy editor who ate a burrito for lunch. He had bad indigestion and took it out on me. Then the rejection wasn’t such a big deal. The guy’s stomach trouble and bad manners became funny, rather than a reflection of my efforts.

In time, I’ve embraced the notion that a rejection, including a frankly critical one, offers positive opportunities. An editor’s simple “No, thank you” can result in a quick sale when I resubmit the piece elsewhere. Helpful feedback means I can improve my skills. Complete silence doesn’t mean anything – it doesn’t indicate that my work is awful or it’s still being considered.

Jewish tradition grows from a long rabbinic tradition of debate, discussion, criticism and reproof. It’s part of who we are. It’s sharp and puckery like that fresh lemon bite or the tannic pucker of sour grapes. It’s not easy to hear. Yet, when offered in good faith, thoughtful analysis only shows how much the respondent cares. Hearing nothing from a congregant, colleague or friend doesn’t mean everything is good. It may mean that they don’t care enough to respond. Or perhaps they say nothing because they can’t stand the rude response, defensiveness or silence that might follow.

It’s important, as part of a community, to offer effusive praise and support for one another whenever we can. It’s also key to our future to reflect, reevaluate and offer ways to improve. We often make a good salad spectacular with a squeeze of tangy lemon. Sometimes, we need to pucker up to improve things, so we may experience the huge flavour that can follow.

False binaries harmful

It is perhaps inevitable that, at a time of polarized thinking, many people seem incapable of holding two ideas in their minds at once.

Canadian politics has maybe not succumbed to the depths of entrenched division we see in our neighbours to the south, where Democrat-versus-Republican has taken on a tribal identification. However, almost every democratic society is experiencing intense divisions not only in opinion but in identification. That is, our identities, including political stands, are prioritized to represent core personal traits. If we identify less as, say “a Canadian who votes for the Purple Party,” but instead as “a Purple Canadian,” it can feel threatening to have a conversation with someone of different opinions.

Social media is a significant driver of this phenomenon. Not only do the algorithms embolden and reify extremism, but we are encouraged to share these extreme opinions. Inflammatory ideas that we once might have kept to ourselves are posted for all to see – and, if someone disagrees, we may perceive it as a personal attack and feel encouraged to carry out an online vendetta. In times past, we may have suspected that our neighbour or relative held ideas we disagreed with. Now, we may know what our friends and neighbours think and feel about myriad issues – and we might be motivated to take them on in a virtual slugfest over those differences.

In theory, this is a good thing – but only in theory. In a perfect world, social media gives us the opportunity to engage one another in informed, enriching dialogue. Clearly, the joke’s on us.

In reality, social media reduces the quality of dialogue to a dismissive, insulting snapback. Moreover, the comparative anonymity of the platforms gives us licence to vent our worst impulses with few checks and balances embedded in the systems.

It is in this troubled online culture that the current war between Israel and Hamas is being addressed by Canadians.

The context is additionally challenged by recent changes to Canadian law. The federal government reasonably demanded that social media platforms pay news producers for the content shared on their platforms. In response, the platforms blocked the content rather than pay for it. A business can choose whether to retail what others are wholesaling, to use a clunky parallel. Of course, social media platforms are not just any business. It is fair to argue that they are a form of public utility and so should be governed by different standards. That, though, is a discussion for a different time. Bottom line is that Canadians are debating online over current events without the advantage of sharing professional news content, with predictable outcomes around reach and veracity.

Binary or polarized thinking plays another role.

Antisemitism, as any reader knows, is at levels most of us have not seen in our living memories. This is not incidental to the current war but, crucially, neither is the war the cause. Antisemitism lies in wait, depending on an external spark to set it aflame. Nothing Israel does (or, for that matter, anything Hamas does) is the cause of antisemitism in Canada. We need to address domestic bigotry for what it is. The purest proof: other international disputes rarely, if ever, result in eruptions of racism in Canada … why does this one?

In response to concerns around antisemitism, we see – usually online, because that is where these sorts of “conversations” happen most visibly – many people responding predictably. If there is antisemitism in Canada, a common theme goes, blame Israel’s actions or existence. A slightly more extreme variation makes the case that, at a time when it is alleged that Palestinians are experiencing genocide or ethnic cleansing, why are we wasting time talking about (the presumably relatively inconsequential matter of) antisemitism?

At a minimum, the response to such ideas should be that two things can be true at the same time. There may be unfolding tragedies in the Middle East … but there is also racism at home that demands addressing. And, no, one cannot wait until the other is resolved. Just as we should be capable of holding two ideas at once, we must be able to condemn injustice at home and abroad. Why is this difficult?

Binary thinking implies that injustice abroad displaces injustice at home. The message many of us see on social media is, put bluntly, Canadian Jews should keep quiet about their problems, complaints or experiences while Palestinians are dying.

Something we can keep in mind when engaging online, in real time, or however we participate, is that our activism on global affairs, including those places in which we have a personal stake, is vital and necessary. But it also has very limited impacts globally. The Israeli government, Hamas and the international entities engaged in what negotiations exist are, frankly, not going to be moved much by marching Canadians or millions of memes on social media. Those who are going to be affected are our neighbours and family, who see often harmful, hateful and insensitive comments and feel bereft, anxious and alone.

We need to keep in mind this: whatever we say about Israel-Palestine lands hardest on the ears, hearts and minds closest to us. Condemning Israelis or Palestinians (or anyone else) has minimal effect in Israel or Palestine. It causes plenty of pain right here at home.

Critical thinking a vital skill

As a 20-something in the mid-1990s, I taught high school English. Part of my course load was a collaborative Grade 10 World Civilizations course that I co-taught with a social studies teacher. One day, I flippantly advertised our next assignment to a room of 16-year-olds, saying, “Oh, hey, we’re going to start reading Candide by Voltaire next week! You’ll love it! It’s full of sex, drugs and violence.”

To my surprise, many of those students talked to their parents. I received a flurry of concerned phone calls, messages and emails. Parents were worried about the curriculum. In the end, my explanations were successful. Yes, it’s true that Candide is probably rated R, but this fantastical satire was first published in 1759. It’s a famous classic, it’s definitely “literature,” with lots of intrigue and ideas we can learn from – and, oh yeah, it’s not true.

Literature teachers often speak of the great truths found in the classics, but fiction isn’t “the truth.” It’s complicated to untangle, and that’s why we study it to develop our critical thinking skills. In our multi-discipline history and English course, we had opportunities to discuss how history evolved, how we could examine primary sources to draw conclusions, and more. Literature was just a part of our opportunity to read and analyze important texts.

All this came to mind recently when some antisemitic posts came my way via social media concerning the Talmud. People started quoting the Talmud and inferring from brief quotations that Jews did all sorts of evil things. This was something of a modern blood libel approach; using brief snippets out of the huge body of law and literary work to condemn an entire ethnoreligious group. What followed was both a lot of nonsense and some deep belly laughs from Jews and scholars who study Talmud. Now, if you want to understand this text, buy all the tractates of the Babylonian (and don’t forget the Jerusalem) Talmud. You’re looking at a several-thousand-dollar purchase, which you can’t read unless you know Aramaic and Mishnaic Hebrew, as well as Rashi script, to read his commentary.

In recent years, Sefaria, an online database, has offered access to Talmud and many other Jewish texts, both in the original and in translation, for free. It’s been a tremendous gift and democratization of these ancient texts. However, having access doesn’t mean you have understanding. Like reading Candide for the first time, it’s helpful to have a teacher, some historical context, and lots of support to aid in your comprehension. These online X commenters, taking short rabbinic quotes out of context, had no idea what they were talking about. In many cases, the Talmud’s rabbinic musings explore arbitrary legal situations that never happened in order to explore and define the minutiae of Jewish law.

Also online, I saw others bemoaning how learning historical “facts” seemed solid and unquestionable – dates and events – but that, with modern events, it seemed hard to define what had happened and what was true as compared to misinformation. This anecdotal experience is common but it’s misleading. It takes a long time to establish a common narrative around a historical event, and “the winners” of war or political events create their version of history. Using multiple primary sources, as well as multiple historians’ accounts, helps learners see how historians lend their biases to their interpretation of what happened. We only get a full picture of “what happened” through exploring many perspectives from multiple sources. Even then, it’s hard to know if the history we’ve learned is “true,” or not.

Developing a mature understanding of literature and world events requires us to be critical thinkers. As F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote in 1936, “… the test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in the mind at the same time, and still retain the ability to function.”

I’d say that, often, intelligent people explore complex political, historical, social or literary scenarios that hold multiple opposing ideas at once. But this kind of learning takes time and energy. It does not happen automatically. Our society loves binaries, where we get a quick yes/no answer.

My kids aren’t in high school. Yet, as a parent, I look forward to the day they come home excited about a “mature” literature assignment full of “sex, drugs and violence.” Each new milestone achieved fills me with hope. This year, for the first time, I have two kids who skate on their own, and I don’t always have to lace them up. At the same time, we’re trying to get to complex, but age-appropriate understandings of the Hamas-Israel war. We explore what is happening along with how the media depicts the situation. Who shapes our understanding of what’s happening? How? Most difficult is exploring the questions around whether anyone “wins” in a war when there is so much suffering involved.

The world is complicated. We can use literature and ideas for enjoyment, but also as tools to help think about big issues. Thinking critically about complex issues is a sign of intelligence and maturity. We must cultivate this skill. I hope it’s something my kids achieve as those long-ago high school students did.

Critical thinking is also a lens through which to examine the multiple simplistic social media and news narratives we’re facing every day. One can ask why the description of an event is so simplistic or who is consistently blamed in the narrative. Often, a short take on Talmud doesn’t demonstrate a deep understanding. A news article that fails to include the back story isn’t going to cut it. A view that always blames only one country – Israel – or one ethnoreligious group – Jews – might be similarly flawed.

Developing our thinking skills enables us to understand complexity. It also helps us discern an argument’s flaws. Let’s nurture smart thinkers so they can recognize and discard the nonsense, misinformation and hate that pops up so frequently now online and in the news.

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.

Consume responsibly

It is said that “truth is the first casualty of war.” There are two aspects to this truth – that the chaos of conflict makes it difficult to discern exactly what is happening, leading to what we might now call “misinformation” and, additionally, the tendency of governments to deliberately mislead their citizens and others for strategic reasons, better known as “disinformation.” Both aspects are very much in play in the current conflict between Israel and Hamas.

There was a time when it was easy for governments to control information. At that time, also, there were editors and fairly clear and stringent (if imperfect) journalistic standards in place before a story would reach its audiences. The internet, among its good and bad characteristics, has eliminated almost all oversight.

Today, anyone with access to the internet has the potential to reach wider audiences than the most powerful person of a century or two ago – and to do so instantaneously. As a result, we are swimming in information.

In principle – in the utopian idea some may have had a few short years ago – this access to virtually unlimited resources would make every citizen capable of consuming the most information possible and empowering us to make informed decisions. This principle seems to have proved disastrously wrong. Instead of weighing the balance of opinions in the most vibrant marketplace of ideas ever imagined, many of us seek out only that information that reinforces our preexisting prejudices and fast-held opinions.

Moreover, bad actors – including governments – and unwitting innocents are purveying false information. We are manipulated by lies that are difficult to discern from fact and most of us are guilty of sharing false information without intending to do so.

We are facing the possibility of a “post-truth world,” exacerbated by technological changes and advances in artificial intelligence. Even given incontrovertible evidence, significant parts of populations choose to believe demonstrable fallacies – the most obvious one in our geographic neighbourhood being the “Big Lie” that Donald Trump won the 2020 US presidential election. Even the universal availability of contrary proof does not preclude people from coming to the wrong conclusions.

Google News and many other agencies, to their credit, have begun aggregating fact-checks from verified sources that now appear at the bottom of many news feeds. Of course, these cannot vet the things that come through our email inboxes.

The advent of artificial intelligence is going to turn what had been trickle and is now a flood of misinformation and disinformation into an absolute deluge. In this issue of the Independent alone, by coincidence, multiple stories address the risks of what is occurring and the need for media literacy and critical thinking.

All of this relates, in a very specific if not immediately obvious way, to a more positive news story in this issue. British Columbia is set to become the second Canadian province to mandate compulsory Holocaust education in the school curriculum.

Ensuring that young citizens complete their education with knowledge of the Holocaust is vitally important. The Holocaust, since well before the internet age, has been the subject of both misinformation and disinformation. Comprehensive education may help people emerge from the school system with a baseline of shared information around a seminal event in human history.

But more is needed. The problem is so vast, a broad approach is required to ensure that most of us, young and old, can discern fact from fiction.

A “supply-side” response is not going to work. There is simply no possibility of stanching the burgeoning amount of lies and misleading content online (and elsewhere). Critical thinking, media analysis, information literacy – these are crucial skills for individuals and society at large. We are way behind the curve in delivering these through our institutions.

Confronting the tsunami of misinformation and disinformation is an intractable challenge. It seems, though, that democratic countries are on the right track: we are acknowledging that it is a problem. There are individuals and organizations – in the public, nonprofit and private sectors – working to bring reliable and trustworthy news and information to the fore. But we must do our part – think twice before you forward a link or email, do your own fact-checking, subscribe to a wide variety of respected publications or channels, be civil in your discussions. It may be a cliché, but it’s appropriate here: be a part of the solution not the problem.

Education v. advocacy

I’ve dealt with all kinds of conflicts as an Israel educator the past 25 years, from the mad parent who storms in and says, “Why do you have that map on your wall and not this map?” to the parents who get into fights in the carpool line because they don’t agree about something taking place or what somebody posted on Instagram.

Israel education could face even more pitfalls and political pressure this fall after May’s conflict in Gaza. A new survey of American Jewish voters that found 22% of all respondents believe that Israel is committing genocide against the Palestinians and that 20% of respondents under age 40 don’t believe that Israel has a right to exist.

It’s challenging to make the classroom a safe environment for such conversations if the home and community are not. That’s why we think it’s important to take the stance we have adopted at the Centre for Israel Education: educators should not use their podiums to spread their political views or launch polemics. Our job is not to tell students what to think, but rather to train them how to think, an effort best accomplished by incorporating as many primary sources and as many different voices as possible.

Taking that apolitical stance, checking your biases at the classroom threshold, is an empowering approach to the education about Israel for teachers and students. Educators can explain to parents that their job is to enable students to think critically for themselves, to assess sources, to understand the differences between history and narrative and between competing narratives, and to appreciate the ideals of a Jewish state and its realities, which are messy, complex and imperfect.

Israel educators should establish a tone of respectful discourse, incorporating listening and critical thinking at the beginning of the school year. It’s OK to disagree with somebody else’s opinions and ideas, as long as the discussion is based on stated sources.

That’s how we teach every other subject. A literature student, for example, who wants to assert that Nietzsche or Sartre was a nihilist has to provide evidence from texts, not just cite a parent, a teacher or a social media influencer.

Educators also must help students understand the vagaries of vocabulary? What words are laden and to whom? “Occupation” means different things to different people, and there are reasons some people talk of Judaea and Samaria while others speak of the West Bank.

Understanding vocabulary is a skill that needs to be taught, as are map reading and literary analysis. When we teach students these skill sets, we enable them to reach and defend conclusions based on documents they’ve examined themselves.

This educational approach is far different from the advocacy model: “If you hear X, you should say Y.” My two kids, who are now in college, would have rebelled if I had told them that. They would have done the opposite just because they were teens.

We can’t engage, empower and prepare students for tricky conversations by teaching them automatic answers or avoiding the complexities altogether. That path leads to students concluding that their teachers lied to them and to believing the worst accusations against Israel.

Instead, we educators must tackle these difficult topics by modeling respectful, informed conversations regardless of personal opinions about, say, whether Israel used disproportionate force in Gaza in May. We must provide historical context and complexity to equip our students with resilience and help them become critical consumers of information so that the slogans they encounter on campus and social media don’t resonate.

This endeavour can’t be limited to one Judaic studies classroom; it has to be embedded into the daily consciousness and experiences of everyone in the school. It requires support from non-Jewish educators and those teaching science and math, literature and social studies. It involves school administrators, board members, rabbis and parents engaging in the same respectful, informed conversations, and accepting that the best practice in Israel education is to treat it as education.

That’s how we can avoid the pitfalls and politicization of teaching about Israel and produce thoughtful Jewish adults who can engage with difficult questions rather than drown in competing narratives.

Tal Grinfas-David is the vice-president of outreach and pre-collegiate school management initiatives for the nonprofit, nonpartisan Centre for Israel Education in Atlanta and is a former Jewish day school principal.

Conspiracists not new

Prof. Simon Devereaux (photo from Twitter.com/UVicHumanities)

The belief in far-fetched plots is not a new phenomenon. There have always been people who gravitate towards and embrace conspiracy theories. In a Feb. 18 talk, hosted by the Jewish Community Centre of Victoria, University of Victoria history professor Dr. Simon Devereaux focused on “the golden age of conspiracy thinking,” highlighting various false intrigues of the latter half of the 20th century.

According to Devereaux, there are three principal elements to conspiracy theories that give them persuasive power among their adherents: big events must have big causes; no big event is random or accidental and must, therefore, be the result of a sinister and nebulous group’s intents or actions; and the most complicated explanation must, by its nature, be the correct explanation.

In his talk – entitled Conspiracy Thinking: A Rational Guide to Thinking Irrationally – Devereaux gave the November 1963 assassination of President John F. Kennedy as an example of “commensurate scale,” the need to equate consequential events with convoluted background planning. A 1992 letter to the New York Times by historian William Manchester was cited as both an explanation of and a counter to this tendency: “if you put the murdered president of the United States on one side of a scale and that wretched waif [Lee Harvey] Oswald on the other side, it doesn’t balance. You want to add something weightier to Oswald. It would invest the president’s death with meaning, endowing him with martyrdom. He would have died for something. A conspiracy would, of course, do the job nicely. Unfortunately, there is no evidence whatever that there was one.”

Devereaux then debunked many of the arguments employed by conspiracy theorists as reasons for why Kennedy might have been killed, including the belief that the young president was prepared to keep the United States out of Vietnam. He argued that Kennedy was a “hawkish” president who had the same secretaries of state and defence as his successor, President Lyndon Johnson.

On segueing into his second point – the inability of conspiracy theorists to accept that big events can happen randomly – Devereaux explained, “conspiracy thinkers ultimately want to believe that the world is an orderly place in which individuals are capable of keeping events under control. They don’t want to believe that the world is a sometimes chaotic place in which deeply upsetting events can happen for no apparent reason. It must, therefore, follow that some superlatively powerful group of individuals must be the directive force behind all events of enormous human significance.”

Growing disenchantment in the late 20th century of the nation state as a power to do good compounded the problem. As the United States lurched deeper into the ethical morass of Vietnam, Western governments, which were often seen as solutions to societal ills, with such programs as the 1930s New Deal, were no longer viewed as virtuous. The Watergate scandal of the mid-1970s, too, contributed to the increasingly held notion that people in government may be inherently corrupt.

Economically, the OPEC crisis and stagflation of the 1970s further demonstrated the “sad proof that government could not ensure that postwar prosperity could last forever,” and led to the presidency of Ronald Reagan and the distrustful neoconservative view of government, which continues to the present, said Devereaux.

“It is more consoling to think that there is someone in control, even if their intentions and purposes are entirely evil, rather than think there is no good explanation for the terrible things that sometimes befall us,” Devereaux argued.

To conspiracy theorists, the more elaborate and bizarre the assertions of conspiracies, the more compelling the argument. They are wont to believe, said Devereaux, that an unconventional approach to seeking answers is the right approach, and are dismissive of any reasoned proposition that runs counter to their argument.

“It is a world of amateur knowledge refusing to accept the world of professional knowledge. Any pattern of systematic, analytical thinking embodied, for instance, in a university, entails conventions,” he said.

To a conspiracy thinker, university professors represent people who are controlled; academics cannot say or do certain things without incurring professional censure. A common aspect of conspiracy thinking is to “trust no one,” i.e., “do not accept any conventional form of received wisdom.”

The rejection of conventional wisdom fuels their notions of being braver and deeper thinkers than others, as only they can follow the elaborate and frequently ludicrous connections of the conspiracy, said Devereaux. Thus, a conspiracy appeals to their intellectual vanity – they believe they are sharing hidden knowledge, therein fostering the idea that they are smarter than everyone else by not falling prey to “fake” mainstream news. Paradoxically, according to Devereaux, the more gullible the conspiracy believers, the more intelligent they think they are.

In his concluding remarks, Devereaux pointed out that there have been numerous conspiracies throughout history. However, most were either limited in their scope or inept, or both. Somewhere along the way, human nature ruins the plot; someone leaves the group, exposes the operation, or bungles the job.

Sam Margolis has written for the Globe and Mail, the National Post, UPI and MSNBC.