Diaspora – Page 6

Dialogue needed

Robert Singer, chief executive officer of World Jewish Congress, addressed more than 100 Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver donors at an event hosted by Gary Averbach and sponsored by Garry Zlotnik of ZLC Financial. (photo from WJC)

The professional head of World Jewish Congress says Diaspora Jews and Israelis are too wrapped up in their own worlds and need to strengthen the dialogue between the two components of the global Jewish community.

Speaking to the Independent during his first-ever visit to Vancouver, Robert Singer said relations remain strong in terms of Diaspora support for Israeli organizations. Programs like Birthright, through which young Jews experience Israel, and Masa, which offers young adults gap-year, study-abroad and other opportunities, also enhance connections. But there must be more person-to-person contacts like these, he said, which foster real conversations across the divide.

“I’m not sure that both sides are talking,” said Singer. “I think both sides are busy with their own stuff. Israelis are busy with stuff in Israel and Diaspora Jews are today busy with their survival, in many cases, both financial and community survival.”

World Jewish Congress is an organization that can facilitate dialogue, he added.

WJC was founded in Geneva in 1936 and now represents Jews in 100 countries, focusing on issues including protecting the memory of the Holocaust, advocating for the recognition of the experiences of Jews from Arab lands, combating antisemitism and encouraging interfaith dialogue. The Congress is headed by Ronald Lauder, president of the executive committee. Singer, who has been the chief executive officer of WJC since 2013, previously served 14 years as the director general and CEO of World ORT, one of the largest nongovernmental education and training providers in the world. Singer was born in Ukraine and made aliyah at age 15.

While in Vancouver, Singer met with rabbis, representatives of the Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs, Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver and other communal organizations. He also met with Russian-speaking members of the community and said he was impressed with Vancouver’s flourishing Jewish life. He acknowledged that British Columbia’s Jewish community faces challenges common to many similar-sized communities.

“The main thing that struck me is the issue of assimilation and how to deal with this,” he said. “Being more inclusive, bringing more people of non-Jewish faith into the community, issues of education, issues of fighting BDS and antisemitism on campuses, and issues of relations between Israel and the Diaspora.”

Interviewed days after many young Jews blockaded the AIPAC conference in Washington, D.C., Singer rejected the idea that younger Jews are alienated from Zionism.

“It’s very different,” Singer said of the way young Jews relate to Israel. Previous generations, he said, were Holocaust survivors or their descendants who knew a world without Israel. “For somebody who is now 20 years old, all this is now either history or they just don’t remember the situation where there was a world without a Jewish state.” This generation cannot be expected to have the same visceral connection to Zionism, he said. “I think it’s just a different approach. Different technologies, different approach.”

He compared the suggestion of declining Zionism with the situation among young Israelis.

“In Israel all the time they say that the previous generation was much more patriotic,” he said. Yet, when young people are conscripted into the Israel Defence Forces today, more – not fewer – are requesting assignment to the most difficult combat and elite units, he said.

“It shows that this generation of young Israelis is at least as good as the people before them and I think it’s the same in the Diaspora,” Singer said, citing the Jewish Diplomatic Corps, a WJC program of about 200 young adults from 43 countries, including international lawyers, businesspeople, parliamentarians, professors and others who meet with government leaders and international agencies.

“They are outstanding young people,” said Singer. “I’m sure that, on an intellectual, Jewish and pro-Zionist level, they are at least as good as the leadership of the people who went before.”

On external threats, Singer said it is too soon to make a determination about long-range impacts of contemporary antisemitism. A new WJC study indicates an antisemitic comment is posted to social media every 82 seconds.

“It’s very bad,” he said. But, he added, it may be less a matter of growing antisemitism than attitudes that were already there merely finding expression.

The situation in Europe is concerning, he said. Antisemitic and neo-Nazi parties are seeing unprecedented public support in France, Germany, Hungary and Greece. “This is a real danger,” Singer said.

On the impacts of U.S. President Donald Trump’s policies, Singer said it is too soon to judge. He is impressed, however, that Trump’s appointee as U.S. ambassador to the United Nations, Nikki Haley, has adopted a very different approach from her recent predecessors.

While the United Nations General Assembly is a wasteland at present, Singer said, Canada and the United States should remain active there, “because there is a stage there and you can have some influence.”

Of the new Canadian government, Singer said he is pleased that relations between Israel and Canada remain close and that this is something that transcends politics.

A healthy relationship

An interesting exchange occurred last week between four members of Israel’s Knesset and a Diaspora Jew who warned them that Israel risks losing the support of people like her.

In a forum in Boston, an audience member said Israel had responded disproportionately during the 2014 Operation Protective Edge.

“You are losing me and you are losing many, many, many people in the Jewish community,” the audience member warned. “I want to know what you are doing to make peace with the Palestinians.”

Amir Ohana, a Likud MK, made clear where he stood. “War is horrible. I lost friends, I lost family,” but the audience member was ignoring the thousands of rockets sent from Gaza to Israel, he said. “Each and every one of them [was] targeted to kill us. And if I will have to choose between losing more lives of Israelis, whether they are civilians or soldiers, or losing you, I will sadly, sorrily, rather lose you.”

Rachel Azaria, an MK belonging to the Kulanu party, was similarly critical of the American’s approach. “One of the challenges is that when you’re thousands of miles away, it looks simple,” she said. “To think that we enjoy living in terror and living with our rifles, we hate it. We all hate it. But we can’t seem to find a solution that will keep us strong and sheltered.… If it would be easy, we would be there … I wish reality would be easier, God knows I wish, unfortunately it’s not. And that’s something we need to live with every day of our lives in Israel.”

So, who is right? The alienated Diaspora Jew, or the members of Israel’s parliament? Unsatisfyingly, but perhaps appropriate Jewishly, they all are.

Israel has to make decisions based on the security of Israel, not on the emotional well-being or political ease of Diaspora Jews. Likewise, Jews everywhere have an obligation to stand up when they perceive injustice.

These two positions may seem antithetical, but they are not necessarily. Israelis and Diaspora Jews have always had a deep connection. Both in the state of Israel and in the Diaspora, political ideologies span the gamut. But particular issues and events, like the 2014 war, can exacerbate conflicts in the relationship. Ultimately, though, if we consider Israel and the Diaspora not as two entities but as Klal Yisrael, these disagreements are part of a dynamic discourse that is not only unavoidable, but necessary.

Diaspora Jews frequently criticize Israel and sometimes Israelis act as though these voices are not welcome. Yet the Diaspora provides financial and political support to Israel and, more importantly, the Law of Return means that every Diaspora Jew is a potential citizen. This means something.

And, while Azaria is correct that sometimes things can look overly simple from a distance of tens of thousands of kilometres, it is conversely true that distance can give perspective. Israelis and Diaspora Jews should listen to one another, not reject alternative voices.

Still, as at least one MK noted, it is not the children of Diaspora Jews who are conscripted into the Israel Defence Forces. It must certainly confound some Israeli parents to hear their North American or European cousins complaining about this or that Israeli policy while their own children are on the frontlines of the latest conflagration with Hamas, or are patrolling dangerous neighbourhoods in the West Bank.

Just as politics in Israel is combative and engaging, so it is – and it should be – in the Diaspora. We do not need to agree on everything, but some syntheses should develop that allow for dialogue and progress.

While we fret about the state of Israel-Diaspora relations, though, we should perhaps be more concerned about a different development. We may be heading for a schism that makes our past differences pale.

A new generation of Jews coming up in the Diaspora is much more critical of Israel and tends to be more dovish than their parents or grandparents. There are exceptions, of course, but the young Jews who blockaded the AIPAC conference recently represented a growing cohort, not a diminishing one. Some of their critics say these young people have been taken in by the anti-Israel propaganda on campuses and lack the courage to stand up to it. This may be true in some cases but, by and large, this is a dismissive and insulting suggestion. The different perspectives of young Jews are a real phenomenon and something that leaders – in Israel and around the world – need to respect and respond to.

Above all, we should not fear dissenting voices, but welcome them as part of the Zionist discourse. It is heartening to remember that the degree of passion expressed on all sides of this debate is a symptom of intense engagement. Disinterest would be a far greater threat to Jewish and Israeli life.

Living Jewishly in isolation

It was a life-changing day for Sei Mang Khong Sai, a 35-year-old man from Sazal, India. Inside the mud and bamboo hut on stilts with him were community leaders, his family and guests. They chanted tribal prayers to the beat of a lap drummer.

In this village, hours away from any major city, they were preparing for the barhote, the bris. Sei Mang was about to enter the covenant. In an area of warfare, poverty and drug-running, he was seeking Judaism’s deeper connection to a peaceable life.

Before the ceremony was complete, however, he was to be given his Jewish name. The honor was spontaneously given to visiting stranger Bryan Schwartz, from Oakland, Calif. The first thing that came into Schwartz’s head was Menashe, and so Menashe it was.

A kippah was placed on Menashe’s head, the hut’s doors were thrown open and the assembled outside were informed of the new name, to cheers of “siman tov!” and “mazal tov!”

As the history is told, seven Jewish couples were shipwrecked off the Konkan coast in India, south of Bombay, some 2,000 years ago, the progenitors of today’s Bnei Israel of India’s Maharashtra province.

“It was a pretty astonishing moment for me that brought home both the commonality, the amount that we share even in the most diverse corners of the world, and also how different some Jewish lives are from the one that I have,” said Schwartz, a civil rights attorney.

Sei Mang’s story and many others – from Schwartz’s travels to 30 countries and more than 100 villages – are chronicled in Schwartz’s recent book, Scattered Among the Nations: Photographs and Stories of the World’s Most Isolated Jewish Communities, which he put together with Jay Saul and Sandy Carter.

Scattered Among the Nations is the culmination of a 15-year journey that began in 1999 when Schwartz was a law student and was planning a spring break trip to North Africa. He stumbled upon a listing for Jews in the index of his Lonely Planet guidebook, including historical descriptions of the island of Djerba in the Mediterranean off the coast of Tunisia. Jews there claim not only to have in their possession the oldest Torah, but a past extending directly to ancestors fleeing the destruction of the Second Temple. It is believed that some high priests – kohanim – found refuge on the island, bringing with them one of the gates of the Temple, which they later buried. Legend has it, a synagogue, which still stands today, was built overtop the burial site. Schwartz learned there were 15 synagogues on the island.

“I’m reading all of this and I’m just blown away that there is this place that is so fascinating, and a story that is so colorful and beautiful, and that I have never heard of it,” he told the Independent. “I decided there must be places like this all around the world that I could visit and, as a writer and photographer, capture some of it and share it with other Jewish people.”

Prior to embarking on this ambitious quest, he contacted some communities by fax and mail and connected with global Jewish outreach centre Kulanu, which has ties to Jews in far-off corners. He also researched the “lost” communities, reading Hillel Halkin’s book on the Bnei Menashe, Across the Sabbath River, and Tudor Parfitt’s The Lost Tribes of Israel and Journey to the Vanished City, about the Lemba tribe of southern Africa, who maintain Jewish practices and share kohanic DNA. He took special note of the 1999 documentary film by Simcha Jacobovici, Quest for the Lost Tribes of Israel.

“Some of these communities exist in places so geographically and culturally distant from other Jews that they must struggle daily to maintain the religion of their ancestors,” he said.

Scattered Among the Nations contains more than 500 color photographs. Over the course of two years, Schwartz’s articles and talks have gained attention globally in the media, learning institutions, houses of worship and Jewish museums.

“I wanted to show the full diversity of the Jewish world,” he said. In Sefwi Wiawso, Ghana, for example, Jews don’t know how they got there – perhaps an ancient Israelite exile or Ethiopian Jewish traders. But what’s certain is that the community of 200, who call themselves the House of Israel, is dedicated to living a Jewish life.

“They embrace Judaism with such love. They have this tiny Torah that somebody delivered to the community,” said Schwartz. “And then, to return home and to see in my synagogue the wall of Torahs in the ark … Torahs draped in silver and velvet, and realize how very fortunate we are to have the kind of resources that we have.”

An “extraordinary part of the journey,” said Schwartz, was showing up, not knowing a single soul, “and just by virtue of this Jewish faith that was shared, that I would be treated like a long lost cousin and brought in, and I could stay with a family for Shabbat or for a whole week or for several weeks, and nothing be asked of me at all, other than to join them.”

In fact, he said, even members of economically disadvantaged communities offered him the best room in the house in which to stay, three meals a day and touring.

In Ghana, for instance, he stayed in Joseph Arma’s house – one of the wealthier community members – where only one room had electricity. The home had an outhouse.

Arma’s nephew was staying with them, but Arma kept referring to him as his son. Confused, Schwartz asked for clarification. It was explained that the tradition is that people who have kinship with one another can be called son – and that its what this American visitor would soon be called, as well. “That’s how it is here in Africa,” he was told.

“This is how I was treated in a lot of communities, like I was the son of the community and as much a part of the family as anyone else,” he said.

Meanwhile, more than 100 people of the Shona Jewish community convene each Shabbat morning at their synagogue outside Rusape, Zimbabwe. It is there they sing original Afro-Jewish melodies, gospel-style, in Hebrew, Shona and English.

The Ebo Jews in Nigeria, on the other hand, consist of several thousand members.

In each locale, their practices are recognizably Jewish, though continued observance of said practices often requires outside assistance.

The Inca Jews in Peru, as they identify themselves, have struggled to maintain the traditions.

“They don’t have teachers, they don’t have clergy, they don’t have books and the resources to buy kosher foods that they want for holidays,” Schwartz said. They are by necessity vegetarian, he explained – not by choice, but due to the fact that kosher meat is unavailable.

This is one of the many reasons that it wasn’t enough for Schwartz to simply publish his book and hope that these communities would be able to continue practising Judaism despite their lack of resources. Instead, he has also launched Scattered Among the Nations, Inc., a nonprofit organization that is designed, among other things, to assist isolated Jewish communities in gaining the recognition and resources to meet their needs. The organization, for example, has helped the Inca Jews buy kosher meat for Pesach and the High Holidays.

A number of communities – including the Inca Jews – don’t have kosher Torahs and, at one point, the community in northeastern India had to use a toy Torah, the kind bar mitzvah kids are given, said Schwartz. After reading an article about this situation, septuagenarian Chicagoan Sam Pfeffer stepped up to the plate, offering to purchase a Torah. But it’s not as though the scroll could be mailed or couriered. To avoid the reams of red tape, the only route was to deliver it personally. And so it was that this community, for the first time in perhaps several hundred years, leined from a fresh, new Torah.

“Nothing in the world could have meant more to them,” said Schwartz. “In northeastern India, you know, there is just not enough hope. Economically there, life is a struggle and to get to Shabbat really is a salvation every week.”

Whole communities – including the Bnei Menashe and Inca Jews – have expressed a strong desire to make aliyah in order to live fuller Jewish lives. But they haven’t necessarily been met with the warmest of receptions.

“It felt to me like an injustice that this [Inca] community has been actively and deliberately practising Judaism for decades, and really struggle to gain attention from the outside Jewish world. They’re fighting to get the attention of the [rabbinical authorities], to practise and make aliyah,” said Schwartz. “That was a fight that felt like … social justice that I engage in my law practice as well. Some of what I have seen … has felt like discrimination to me, and I think it’s something we need to confront and address.”

After some of the first members of the Inca community made aliyah, an Israeli newspaper wrote editorials suggesting that these Peruvians were just the pawns of an Orthodox establishment trying to use them in the war against the Palestinians, recalled Schwartz. “Which, to me, is an incredibly … bigoted way to look at a group of people, to suggest they were sort of evil-minded, or did not have their own free will to exercise their own passionate conserving of Judaism.

“In fact, nothing could be farther from the truth. The community actually struggled for a long time to gain any recognition for their own very devoted Jewish practice … to the point where they were photocopying pages of the Chumash and sticking it to parchment, to make it a ‘Torah.’ It’s hard for most of us to imagine.”

The Bnei Menashe of Myanmar (Burma) and India only recently gained official recognition as a “lost tribe” from religious authorities.

“It was so fundamental to their identity that they were part of a lost tribe,” said Schwartz, puzzled at the inconsistencies. Why, he wondered, when so many Soviet Jews “were welcomed with open arms in Israel, despite so few devoted in their Jewish practice,” do Bnei Menashe, in contrast, “not have the same reception? I think that’s something that we need to continue to confront as a community.”

It seems that clashes with so-called mainstream Jewish life have become the rule, rather than the exception. In the 1980s and 1990s, for example, Jews in Mexico and Portugal emerged from centuries of isolation, “coming out” for the first time since the Spanish Inquisition, as Schwartz explained. “Now that they no longer are forced to hide their Jewish practice, that they’re not as isolated as they once were, while it is a blessing, it also causes challenges.”

Reconnecting to the Jewish world meant newfound (to them) rabbinical insight that often conflicted with their own traditions, he explained. Portuguese prayers would make way for Hebrew prayers; kashrut meant a whole other list of laws and strictures. The Jewish community in Portugal had been, for hundreds of years, developing secret (to us) Jewish practices, including a Shavuot they referred to as Ascension Wednesday, a gathering in the field to celebrate.

“It was a struggle in the community as to what extent to embrace modern Jewish practice, or to keep going with their … practices that they’ve had for centuries,” said Schwartz. “Suddenly, you’ve come face to face with the entire Jewish world and realized that the way you’re practising is not entirely consistent with the way the other communities are practising and you have to make decisions.”

Schwartz couldn’t help but be affected by the faith of these communities, in light of what would often be harsh circumstances.

“In visiting these communities,” he said, “I realized the struggle that some people have to get to survive every week, and how meaningful it is to really live the whole week, to arrive at Shabbat. It is just inspiring. It made me realize the gift that it is to be Jewish, and it makes me want to pray every day, and be grateful every day, in a way that I certainly wasn’t before.”

Dave Gordon is a Toronto-based freelance writer whose work has appeared in more than a hundred publications around the world. He is the managing editor of landmarkreport.com.

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.

JNF inspires entrepreneur

Recent Blue Box packages have included artisanal jams from Bustan Confiture. Each month, the featured products change. (photo from Emily Berg)

There are many ways to support Israel and Israeli businesses. A new concept, Blue Box Israel, connects artisan Israelis with Israel supporters abroad.

Blue Box Israel is the brainchild of Emily Berg, 29. Born and raised in Toronto in a secular, Zionist Jewish household, Berg made aliyah in 2012. In her first three years in Israel, she worked in fundraising and as a strategic consultant for several different nongovernmental organizations. It was during Operation Protective Edge (Tzuk Eitan) in 2014 that she saw a need for Blue Box.

“My fiancé was called to reserve duty and was basically gone from the first until the 40th and final day,” Berg told the Independent. “It was a very quiet period. People were not going out much. And, it was the first time I was able to really reflect on my life, purpose and future here.”

photo - Emily Berg, founder and chief executive officer of Blue Box Israel — Emily Berg, founder and chief executive officer of Blue Box Israel. *(photo from Emily Berg)*

Berg received daily emails, calls and messages from friends and family abroad, asking how they could help.

“One day, my mother forwarded me an email she had received urging her to ‘buy Israeli products from the south,’” said Berg. “All of the links were either broken or led to Judaica sites that didn’t have the capacity to ship abroad.

“Having spent years here, I knew that there were dozens, if not hundreds, of great businesses in the south that could benefit from this type of transaction. I realized that Israel’s supporters want to buy products from Israel, but that there was not really any way to do so.”

With the Jewish National Fund’s blue and white tzedakah box etched into her mind since childhood, Berg saw it as a “portal to Israel.” In a similar vein, she wanted to give people around the world an opportunity to connect with small Israeli businesses and support them by buying their products.

“I decided to call it Blue Box, not in any way meant to be in competition with JNF; rather, to pay respect to this important artifact,” she said.

Fast forward a few months and the Blue Box concept developed into a subscription-based model, wherein customers pay a fixed price and receive a monthly package from Israel, with each focused on a different vendor.

“Blue Box is about giving Israel’s supporters a monthly taste of Israel, sending them high-quality, innovative and unique products, and giving them a chance to support a variety of hand-picked Israeli vendors,” said Berg.

Each box includes a postcard with the vendor’s story on it, written by Berg. “For me, Blue Box is first and foremost about supporting small business in Israel, but it’s also about sharing Israel’s treasures – its products and its people – with my customers.”

Berg is constantly searching for suppliers and personally visits the site of each business that she chooses to feature – whether it’s a farm, a studio or a home office. She enjoys seeing how and where the products are made, and speaking with the business owners and workers. These interactions help her get a sense of the business’ culture when writing the postcards.

“In the past, I have decided not to work with particular vendors, because I was not satisfied with the level of cleanliness or even the conditions of the workers,” said Berg. “Whether the business is run ethically is very important to me. I choose businesses with interesting stories behind them. I choose products that are well-made, suit the price point, and meet weight and customs requirements.”

The main thing for Berg is to send innovative, artisanal products (often organic or handmade) as opposed to just sending Bamba or random Judaica. And her focus is on products from Israeli-owned companies.

As the founder and chief executive officer of Blue Box, Berg has a wide network of support, most notably, a mentor via Keren-Shemesh, an organization that helps young entrepreneurs in their first two years of business.

“I also have a team of Israeli student interns from the Ruppin Academic Centre who help me with marketing, PR and social media,” said Berg. “Most people hear about the business, are so excited about it, and just want to help.”

There are many different companies that send gift baskets from Israel, mostly for the holidays, i.e. kosher items for Rosh Hashanah or Pesach. There are also a few subscription businesses in Israel that ship makeup samples or promotional items. Berg says that Blue Box is different because she features one handpicked vendor each month and includes not only a selection of their products but also their story.

“Israel is literally bursting at the seams with innovation, creativity, craft and talent,” she said. “Using fresh ingredients, high-quality materials and unique design methods, there are literally thousands of small businesses scattered throughout the country, tucked away in little-known moshavim or small studios.

“These businesses, of course, don’t necessarily have access to the global market, nor do they have the capacity to ship abroad. We work with small businesses, family businesses, kibbutzim, artists, designers, entrepreneurs, social businesses, NGOs and much more.”

Recent boxes have included items such as artisanal jams (from Bustan Confiture), honey (from Kibbutz Ein Herod), spices (from Derech HaTavlinim), organic soap and shampoo (from Arugot Habosem), hand-woven baskets (from Kuchinate, the African Refugee Women’s Collective), organic olive oil (from Rish Lakish) and organic dried fruits (from Kibbutz Neot Semadar).

The boxes are packaged at a space in southern Tel Aviv. They are shipped at the beginning of each month, and Canadian customers can expect them to arrive within 10 business days after shipping (around the middle of a month). During months with a Jewish or Israeli holiday, Berg takes special care to ensure the packages arrive on time.

Purchasing a one-time box will run you $50 (including taxes and shipping). If you choose to subscribe – and customers can cancel at anytime – the price drops. For a three-month plan, it’s $46/month, for a six-month plan, $40/month, and, for a 12-month plan, $36/month.

“We ship a different box each month,” said Berg, and “everyone receives the same box that month. So, for example, every January, a subscriber will receive organic desert-grown dates, raisins and fruit leather from Kibbutz Neot Semadar for Tu b’Shevat.

“I want Blue Box to become a household name and something that hundreds of thousands if not millions of subscribers look forward to each month. Eventually, I would like to create an online shuk [market] to sell and ship Israeli goods abroad.”

For more information, visit blueboxisrael.com or the blog at blueboxisrael.wordpress.com.

Rebeca Kuropatwa is a Winnipeg freelance writer.

A groundbreaking decision?

Anat Hoffman, leader of Women of the Wall, speaks with members of the media near the Western Wall on Jan. 31, reacting to the Israeli government’s passage of a new plan on egalitarian prayer rights at the Jewish holy site. (photo by Hadas Parush/Flash90 via jns.org)

The Israeli government’s passage of legislation that authorizes egalitarian prayer in a soon-to-be-created 9,700-square-foot, NIS 35 million ($8.85 million) section adjacent to the southern part of the Western Wall (Kotel) has been called groundbreaking, empowering, dramatic and unprecedented. The section could be ready in as soon as a few months or up to two years from now.

“This is a fair and creative solution,” said Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu after the 15-5 vote on the measure by his cabinet.

Rabbi Rick Jacobs, president of Union for Reform Judaism (URJ), said the decision would “connect world Jewry to the state of Israel.” Jerry Silverman, chief executive officer of Jewish Federations of North America (JFNA), called it a “major step forward.” Member of Knesset Merav Michaeli (Zionist Union) said the Kotel was “liberated” again; this time not by soldiers, but by women in Jewish prayer shawls.

Indeed, for 27 years, Women of the Wall pushed for women’s equality at the Kotel. Formal negotiations have been going on for almost three years. In a statement, the group said more than just an agreement has been achieved: “The vision of the new section of the Kotel is a physical and conceptual space open to all forms of Jewish prayer. Instead of splitting up the existing pie into ever more divided, smaller pieces, we are making the pie much larger.”

The new section, which will qualify for government funding, will be managed by a public council, governed by a committee headed by the chair of the Jewish Agency for Israel and comprised of representatives from the Reform and Masorti (Conservative Judaism in Israel) movements, JFNA and Women of the Wall. An administrator for the section will be appointed by the Prime Minister’s Office.

Beyond the blueprints, the ratified plan is a powerful statement about the overt impact that Diaspora Jewry and global Jewish leaders can have on Israeli decision-making.

North American Jews have traditionally served as a political lifeline for Israel, lobbying their governments on behalf of the Jewish state. Recent occurrences have shifted the relationship between the North American and Israeli Jewish communities into one of semi-equality, which includes North American Jewish leaders objectively discussing Israel’s policies rather than blindly supporting them.

Silverman called this shift evolutionary. Rabbi Gilad Kariv, executive director of the Israel Movement for Reform and Progressive Judaism, said the negotiations “prove the role that North American Jewry … can and should play in helping Israel make our country more inclusive.”

“Kudos to the unrelenting advocacy from the North American Jewish community in pushing for this,” said Rafi Rone, former vice-president of Jewish and Israel Initiatives at the Joseph and Harvey Meyerhoff Family Charitable Funds. “The dawning of a new day.”

In an interview with the Jerusalem Post, Jewish Agency chairman Natan Sharansky said that American and Israeli Jews are becoming increasingly interdependent. The U.S. needs Israel to help strengthen Jewish identity in a Diaspora community that is slowly shrinking from assimilation and intermarriage, he said. Israel, attacked daily by the international community, needs the solidarity of Jewish communities abroad, he explained.

“I am sure that the [Israeli] government must now take into account – should take into consideration – the position of world Jewry on the decisions it makes,” Hagay Elizur, senior director of Diaspora affairs for Israel’s Ministry of Public Diplomacy and Diaspora Affairs, told JNS.org.

Netanyahu might be feeling the pressure of unprecedented U.S.-Israel political tension. Last August’s Peace Index poll by the Israel Democracy Institute and Tel Aviv University showed that 48% of Israeli Jews worried that Netanyahu’s campaign against the Iran nuclear deal would damage U.S.-Israel relations.

Read more at jns.org.

For two of the many other points of view, read the articles by Rabbi Daniel Bouskila and Phyllis Chesler.

The state of Jewry in Russia

A scene from filmmaker Reuven Brodsky’s documentary Home Movie. (photo by Yevgeny Spivak)

In 1989, the USSR’s emigration gates opened. Responsible for prying them open was a small group of tremendously courageous and patient Soviet Jews (called refusenikim for their denied exit permits) who had fought long and hard for their religious and cultural freedom, with thousands of Western Jews and non-Jewish people of conscience. The Soviet Jewry movement, which began in the United States in the 1960s and spread from there to other countries, including Canada, eventually witnessed 1.6 million Jews and their non-Jewish relations leave for Israel and the West. A thrilling climax, but then what happened?

While it is hard to say how many Jews live in Russia today, estimates are between 400,000-700,000, approximately 0.27%-0.48% of the total Russian population. Since the early 1990s, efforts to revitalize Jewish life in Russia and other former Soviet Union (FSU) countries have been ongoing.

After the dissolution of the USSR, different denominations within world Jewry started operating openly in Russia. Of all the different Jewish religious groups on the scene today, Chabad has probably worked the hardest to bring Jewish awareness to the unaffiliated. It sends its emissaries (usually a couple consisting of a male rabbi and his teacher wife) to Russia and numerous other FSU centres.

After so many years of not being able to publicly run Jewish institutions, Russian Jewish communities now have 17 day schools, 11 preschools and 81 supplementary schools with about 7,000 students. There are also four Jewish universities. The major towns have a Jewish presence, with synagogues and rabbis. In the past few years, a state-of-the-art Jewish museum even opened in Moscow and a deluxe Jewish community centre containing a small movie theatre, synagogue, mikvah, kosher gourmet restaurant and guest rooms for Sabbath observers was inaugurated in December 2015 in Zhukovka, near Moscow.

photo - The Zhukovka Jewish Community Centre was inaugurated in December 2015 — The Zhukovka Jewish Community Centre was inaugurated in December 2015. *(photo from Federation of Jewish Communities of Russia via jta.org)*

Yet the picture is far from rosy. In an introductory essay to An Anthology of Jewish-Russian Literature: Two Centuries of Dual Identity in Prose and Poetry (2007), book editor Maxim Shrayer critically views Jewish cultural life in post-Soviet Russia: “… my preliminary conclusion is that Jewish-Russian writers whose careers were formed during the Soviet years continue to address Jewish topics in their work, some due to a renewed personal interest as well as the freedom to write about it, others out of cultural inertia. At the same time, younger authors of Jewish origin in today’s Russia have tended to be assimilated and Russianized, resulting in a dearth of Jewish consciousness in their writing.

“Jewish-Russian literature in the former USSR might have found a temporary domain in the pages of such periodicals as the Moscow-based magazine Lekhaim … [one of the] attempts to consolidate, perhaps artificially, a critical mass of writers and readers even as Jewish-Russian culture itself spirals toward disappearance.”

In Jewish Life After the USSR (Indiana University Press, 2003), Prof. Zvi Gitelman claims that, following the breakup, Russian Jews have become increasingly less concerned about intermarriage. Ethnic identity as such seems to be based on antisemitism – even if it is unofficial, popular antisemitism rather than state-sanctioned antisemitism.

Looking to the future, the offspring of these intermarriages are likely to feel less tied to Judaism. Speculatively, they are likely to remain so unless Russian-based Jewish institutions are willing to “reach out” to people who, according to the strict reading of Jewish law, are not considered members of the “tribe,” he argues.

Since 2000, immigration to Israel and/or to the West has slowed down. But, based on past experience, immigration – provided the doors to Israel and/or the West remain open – will likely pick up if antisemitism flares up, if the Russian economy takes a real and prolonged nose-dive or if political-military strife developed in Russia as it has in the Ukraine. As Lee Yaron recently reported in Haaretz, the situation is already changing: in 2015, “15,000 immigrants … came from the former Soviet Union … an increase of over 20% from last year’s figure.”

In the post-USSR age, Jewish culture in Israel and Russia mix in unexpected ways. Gone is my grandparents’ generation who, once out of Russia, never again saw “left behind” family members. Today, many former Russian Jews living in Israel (and vice versa) frequently fly four hours to visit relatives who did not leave. According to the Israeli Ministry of Tourism, there were 60 weekly flights from Russia to Israel, as of the end of December 2015.

But the exchange is beyond familial ties. Here are four examples – two from the arts and two from the sciences.

Israeli filmmakers who left the USSR as children have begun making at least part of their films in Russia. Seven Days in St. Petersburg, written, directed and produced by Reuven Brodsky, is one case in point. Significantly, the protagonists speak both Hebrew and Russian. A few years earlier, Brodsky made the documentary Home Movie, described as, “The final chapter in the breakdown of the director’s family – one of many who did not survive the trials of immigration.”

Also in the film world, just a few months ago, Vladi Antonevicz released Credit for Murder, a documentary dealing with the topic of Russia’s neo-Nazis. As if the subject in and of itself is not dangerous enough to undertake, Antonevicz’s film apparently exposes a connection between the Russian administration and these hate groups. Antonevicz claims that certain Russian politicians are manipulating neo-Nazi activity to further their own political needs. To make this film, Antonevicz infiltrated Russian neo-Nazi groups, secretly investigating an unsolved double murder. He succeeded, but some say his small film crew has had to lay low after completing the film.

Former Russian Jews in Israel (and in the West) have likewise forged profitable positions in the start-up world. Moscow-born Prof. Eugene Kandel, outgoing head of Israel’s National Economic Council, analyzes this phenomenon. In a July 29, 2015, Forbes blog by Scott Tobin, the professor is quoted as saying, “Many Russian-born techies now working in Israel are especially innovative because the Soviet state traditionally under-invested in computer hardware and other technology, even as the state was scrambling to develop weapons and related technology to win the Cold War. That left engineers to fend for themselves and develop creative workarounds in many businesses.”

Finally, medical tourism from Russia has blossomed. Many well-to-do Russians come to Israel to be treated by Russian- and Hebrew-speaking doctors, nurses, technicians and medical secretaries (see imta.co.il).

A cause for hope and promise? Stay tuned.

Deborah Rubin Fields is an Israel-based features writer. She is also the author of Take a Peek Inside: A Child’s Guide to Radiology Exams, published in English, Hebrew and Arabic.

A long time in China

A model of the Kaifeng synagogue at an exhibit at the Diaspora Museum in Tel Aviv in 2011. (photo by Sodabottle via commons.wikimedia.org)

With the Chinese New Year taking place next week, it is an appropriate time to reflect on the close and positive relationship between Jewish and Chinese peoples, which reaches back almost 2,000 years.

It might be simplest to begin with the fall of Jerusalem to the Romans in the year 70 of the Common Era. This was the climax of the first of three Jewish-Roman wars that would take place over the first and second centuries. The net result of these conflicts was the deaths of hundreds of thousands of Jews, the enslavement of many others, and those who managed to escape such tragedies fled as refugees. This scattering of Jews across the world we call the Diaspora ultimately resulted in the formation of the various communities we are familiar with today, such as the Ashkenazi, Sephardi and Mizrahi Jews. But there was a smaller, lesser-known Diaspora community that settled in China.

Between 206 BCE and 220 CE, China was ruled by the Han Dynasty. The Han established a vast international trading network that came to be known as the Silk Road. According to the oral history of the Chinese Jews, their ancestors first settled in China during the late Han Dynasty. Such a period would correspond with the Diaspora that followed the Jewish-Roman wars.

After the collapse of the Han Dynasty, the Silk Road trading network collapsed, but was reestablished in 639 CE during the Tang Dynasty. The Silk Road interconnected Tang Dynasty China with the wealthy states of India, East and North Africa, across Asia and into Europe. During the Medieval period, many Jews made their living as merchants. At this time, Christians and Muslims refused to trade directly with each other, and Jews earned great profits acting as intermediaries.

Many Jews traded along the Silk Road, the most prominent group of whom were the Radhanites, who inevitably found themselves in China. It is during this period that the first document indicating the presence of Jews in China has been found. It describes how a rebel leader executed foreign merchants and Jewish residents in the city of Guangzhou. Discovered at an important stop along the Silk Road in northwest China, the document dating to some point around the eighth or ninth centuries was written in a Jewish-Persian script on paper, which at the time would have only been available in China. Some historians have suggested that the Radhanites were responsible for bringing Chinese paper technology to Europe, although this theory is contested. The presence of Jews in Guangzhou at this time should not be surprising, considering it was an important port city linking Chinese and Middle Eastern trade. Guangzhou has one of the oldest mosques in the world and, at the beginning of the ninth century, may have had a population of as many as 100,000 foreigners.

In 908 CE, the Tang Dynasty fell, the Silk Road trading network again collapsed for several centuries and the prominence of the Radhanites declined. But this did not mean the end of the Jewish presence in China. Between 960 and 1279 CE, China was ruled by the innovative and prosperous Song Dynasty, with their capital city at Kaifeng. Kaifeng has been described as the New York of its day. It was a massive cosmopolitan city, a centre of global trade and the largest city in the world, reaching a population of 1.5 million people.

Though Jews would settle in other cities, such as Hangzhou, Ningbo, Ningxia and Yangzhou, most were in Kaifeng, and it became the centre of Chinese Jewry. The first synagogue was built in Kaifeng in 1163 CE. It was made of wood, in a Chinese architectural style. It would be destroyed and rebuilt many times throughout its history. The Jews of Kaifeng were held in high esteem by the Song emperors, and went on to pursue successful careers not only as merchants, but as court officials, scholars and soldiers. There is still a Kaifeng Jewish community today.

In the early 12th century, the first Jin emperor, Wanyan Aguda, unified the Jurchen, a group of tribal peoples living in Manchuria. The Jurchen waged war against the Song Dynasty and, in 1127, Jurchen forces conquered Kaifeng, an event that has come to be known as the Jinkang Incident. After this battle, the Song capital was moved south to Hangzhou, and many of the Kaifeng Jews accompanied the Song rulers in their migration. Nevertheless, there were some who stayed in Kaifeng. The Jurchen established the Jin Dynasty, and continued to wage war against the Song Dynasty for more than 100 years. Eventually, both the Jin and the Song were conquered by the Mongols in the 13th century.

In 1232, the Mongols besieged Kaifeng. During the conflict, the Jin used rockets against the Mongol invaders, which is the first use of rockets in warfare in recorded history; a technology all-too-familiar to the modern residents of Israel. In the mid-14th century, the Mongol rulers of China established the Yuan Dynasty, with their capital in Beijing. When Marco Polo traveled to Beijing in 1266, he wrote about the importance of Jewish merchants there.

In 1276, the Mongols conquered the Song capital of Hangzhou. In 1280, the Mongol emperor, Kublai Khan, issued a decree banning Jews from kosher practices and circumcision. Yuan Dynasty documents written in 1329 and 1354 issue a request of Jewish residents in China to go to Beijing to pay taxes. Though many atrocities occurred during the Mongol invasions, their rule was nevertheless marked by flourishing trade and the Jewish communities of China persisted.

At the site of the synagogue in Kaifeng, several stone steles have been recovered. The oldest, written in 1489, commemorates the construction of the synagogue in 1163. It describes how the Jews first entered China during the late Han Dynasty, and the Jinkang Incident, including how many of the Jewish population of Kaifeng fled to Hangzhou. Also inscribed on this stele were the following words: “The Confucian religion and this religion agree on essential points and differ in secondary ones.”

A second stone stele was made in 1512, which describes Jewish religious practices, which is fascinating considering it is written in Chinese. In 1642, a third stele commemorated the reconstruction of the synagogue in Kaifeng after it was destroyed by a flood. The synagogue was destroyed again by a flood in 1841, but was not rebuilt. This is likely due to the sociopolitical turmoil occurring in China at the time. It is interesting to note that, while Jews were persecuted, rejected and alienated by the nations of Europe, they were accepted and assimilated into Chinese culture.

During the 19th and early 20th centuries, persecution of Jews in Europe began again on a massive scale. The worst events of these times were the many pogroms in the Russian Empire, where hundreds of thousands of Jews were murdered, raped, robbed. Many Jews were forced to flee as refugees, some migrating to North America, some to Palestine, and some to China. The Russian Revolution in 1917 resulted in the deaths of around 250,000 Jews, and the orphaning of around 300,000 Jewish children. Many Russian Jews fled to the city of Harbin, in Manchuria, whose Jewish population reached 20,000. However, when the Japanese annexed Manchuria in 1931, many among that population left for Shanghai, Tianjin or Palestine.

Many Chinese intellectuals understood the plight of the Jewish people, and compared it to their own. The Chinese Nationalist and founder of the Republic of China, Dr. Sun Yat-sen, made the following comparison: “Though their country was destroyed, the Jewish nation has existed to this day…. Zionism is one of the greatest movements of the present time. All lovers of democracy cannot help but support wholeheartedly and welcome with enthusiasm the movement to restore your wonderful and historic nation, which has contributed so much to the civilization of the world and which rightfully deserves an honorable place in the family of nations.”

During the course of the Second World War, the Jewish population in China would swell to 40,000, many of whom resided in Shanghai. A number of Chinese diplomats helped smuggle in Jews using special protective passports. One such hero, a Chinese diplomat working in Vienna named Ho Feng Shan, helped Jews from Nazi-occupied Europe get to China, ultimately saving around 3,000 lives. Ho Feng Shan was posthumously awarded the title Righteous Among Nations by Yad Vashem in 2001.

photo - A plaque erected at Shanghai Jewish Refugees Museum and Ohel Moishe Synagogue in China in honor of the late Chinese diplomat Ho Feng Shan (1901-1997) who saved thousands of Jews between 1938 and 1940 — A plaque erected at Shanghai Jewish Refugees Museum and Ohel Moishe Synagogue in China in honor of the late Chinese diplomat Ho Feng Shan (1901-1997) who saved thousands of Jews between 1938 and 1940. *(photo by Harvey Barrison via commons.wikimedia.org)*

In 1943, the Japanese forced the 20,000 Jews living in Shanghai into a ghetto that was around one square kilometre in size, with conditions described as squalid, impoverished and overcrowded. The Shanghai ghetto was also inhabited by some 100,000 Chinese residents.

The Nazis pressured the Japanese to execute the 40,000 Jews living in China, but the Japanese purposefully delayed the planned atrocity, ultimately saving the Jews’ lives. When the Japanese military governor of Shanghai informed the leaders of the Jewish community of the planned execution and asked them why the Germans hated them, one rabbi responded by saying “because we are short and dark-haired,” a reply that allegedly caused a smile to appear on the serious face of the governor. After the war, most of the Jews in China migrated to the newly formed state of Israel.

Ben Leyland is an Israeli-Canadian writer, and resident of Vancouver.

“Threat” term problematic

When it comes to Israel, many Diaspora Jews harbor a double standard. They want their own countries to embrace pluralism and multiculturalism, owing to the kind of fluid immigration that allowed their own grandparents and great-grandparents to build a better life in America and Canada and many other places across the West. But, when it comes to Israel, they are comfortable articulating their desire to maintain a Jewish majority. Israelis – even those on the left – have a term for this need: they openly refer to Palestinians (whether in the West Bank, whether refugees living abroad or whether Palestinian citizens of Israel itself) as a “demographic threat.”

Palestinian citizens of Israel are pouncing on this usage more than ever. Ayman Oudeh, head of the Joint List, has called it offensive. He wants Israeli citizens to view their Palestinian citizen brethren as partners in nation-building. Still, he is not looking for a melting-pot version of Israeli identity: he demands that Israel grant the Palestinian citizens “collective rights.” Since they already have their own school system, presumably, by collective rights he means at the very least equal funding for schools and towns, including removing the unequal bureaucratic barriers to gaining building permits, something I’ve written about at the Globe and Mail.

Yousef Munayyer is also distressed by the term “demographic threat,” and concludes that it is intrinsic to Zionism. Instead of having a demographic problem, Israel has a Zionism problem, he argued last March in The Nation. This, as Bibi was whipping up fear against the Arab minority on election day, claiming they were coming to the polls “in droves.”

The scope of the issue is more complex than these critiques – as important as they are – allow. There are at least three aspects at play.

First, strategy. There are reasons why a peace activist may choose to use the term “demographic threat” to sell the idea of withdrawal from the West Bank, for example. This kind of reasoning may appeal to those on the centre or even the right who, unfortunately, aren’t moved by human rights imperatives. When it comes to language and lobbying, we must not forget the game of persuasion.

This connects to the second aspect: emotions. Here, the question is this: without undermining democracy, can a majority population privately desire to maintain its majority status? And, in the event that these private desires are shared publicly – through art or literature, say – should the users be chastised as being anti-democratic?

Here, we need to recall what may be motivating these feelings. It may not be anti-democratic tendencies or racism or even a sense of national superiority. As a national liberation movement, Zionism was acutely concerned with Jewish self-determination, more than it was with undermining any other national group in its midst. And, along with the material gains of statehood has come the desire to sustain a modern Jewish national culture, most markedly in the form of Hebrew. To contemplate becoming a minority in one’s country is to consider the attrition of one’s national language, at the very least, if not the possibility of collective safety and self-determination. Even if the fears are unfounded, even, if, somehow, a post-Zionist Israel can engage in a project of radical multiculturalism such that Hebrew culture maintains its treasured place alongside Palestinian culture and Arabic language, the impulse is still understandable.

Finally, there are the public policies themselves. On this, there is clearly much room for improvement. Oudeh’s call for a high-profile “civics conference” in the tradition of other annual conferences in Israel on issues – including security, social issues and economics – is a good one. As is the urgent need to close the funding gap to Arab schools and towns, and to educate against casual racism, including some landlords not renting to Arabs and “social suitability” committees determining who can live where, the kind of practices outlined by Amjad Iraqi in +972 Magazine. These attitudes and the practices that stem from them are corrosive to democracy.

All this is to say that the creation and maintenance of national identity, particularly in a state as young as Israel, is an enormous project. Using the term “demographic threat” as a way of describing the actual collective emotions and preferences of some citizens is as useful as any analytic phrase. To censor it completely, therefore, would be anti-intellectual and anti-democratic. But, when it comes to policy advocacy, thoughtful Israelis should consider thinking twice about using these words. As citizens of democracies, we should at least strive to hear things as our fellow citizens hear them.

Mira Sucharov is an associate professor of political science at Carleton University. She blogs at Haaretz and the Jewish Daily Forward. A version of this article was originally published on haartez.com.

Report offers mixed bag

On the one hand, good news. On the other, bad. The Jewish People Policy Institute delivered its annual assessment to the Israeli cabinet a few weeks ago and it’s a mixed bag.

The annual assessment purports to be the sole “annual stocktaking of the Jewish world,” taking into account the state of affairs in Israel and the Diaspora. The Jewish People Policy Institute, which was created by the Jewish Agency, has been producing this report for 11 years now. It was presented to the cabinet by Stuart Eizenstat, a former U.S. ambassador to the European Union, and Dennis Ross, another high-level American diplomat, who served as the presidential envoy for the Middle East.

Nearly absent in the report, oddly, is any deep introspection on the crucial U.S.-Israel relationship. Among the least specific recommendations is a call for a comprehensive governmental discussion on the “complex fabric of the U.S.-Israel relationship.” It almost appears that the topic, so electric at times in the past year, is too much for the report to embrace.

The report does include, however, a specific appendix on dealing with the potential aliya of 120,000 French Jews. Yet it is nearly silent on European antisemitism, except in the context of its potential for increasing migration to Israel. Antisemitism on American college campuses receives exponentially more attention than antisemitism in Europe. It is almost as though the authors have given up on the sinking ship of European Jewry and are instead devoting their resources to bailing water from the boat of American campus activism.

The strength of the boycott, divestment and sanctions movement has clearly, and rightly, raised alarms at the highest levels. The authors say that Israel and its allies must take an offensive, not just a defensive, approach to the movement – and it states bluntly what plenty of Israel’s overseas allies and enemies have been suggesting for years. While unmasking BDS for what it is – “a movement that rejects a two-state outcome and coexistence” – Israel must also show its commitment to coexistence, Ross bluntly told the cabinet, by “aligning its settlement policy with its support for a two-state outcome. Meaning it needs to stop building outside the blocs.”

The report’s litany of troubles on the geopolitical front is long – Iran on the threshold of nuclear power, worsening security conditions on Israel’s northern and southern borders, the erosion of Israel’s international standing – but the authors see positive developments as well.

Israel is not facing a military threat from a conventional state army. Hezbollah is busy in Syria. Egypt is acting to stop arms smuggling into Gaza. Israeli relations with moderate Sunni Muslim countries are improving as they share common cause in opposition to Iran and jihadism.

As close as the report comes to unequivocal good news is in the demographic realm. Depending on the arithmetic used, the Jewish population in the world is approaching the level it was at before the Holocaust. There are 14.2 million people who identify as Jewish, in addition to one million people in the Diaspora who identify as partially Jewish and about 350,000 immigrants to Israel who are not halachically Jewish but qualify under the Law of Return. That brings the number of Jews close to the 16.5 million who were alive in 1939.

Eizenstat said, “This is a great affirmation of the Jewish people’s commitment to life and continuity but also requires new policy responses and outreach for those who have only marginal connections to Judaism and Israel.”

There are some interesting developments in the Diaspora – meaning, in this case, the United States. For the first time ever, a majority of offspring of mixed marriages in the United States are self-identifying as Jewish. The authors urge Jewish leaders and institutions to encourage the involvement of these individuals in the community.

There is also a huge swath of Americans who define themselves as “Jews of no religion” or “partially Jewish” and the report urges the development of Jewish social networks to engage these people, as well.

The face of American Jewry is changing in other ways. The “historical middle,” Jews who have strong connections to Israel and their Jewish identity but are integrated into secular society, is declining, while Orthodox and ultra-Orthodox communities in the United States are growing rapidly. It also notes that young American Jews are “becoming more, not less, pro-Israel and that growth is happening almost entirely within the politically conservative Orthodox community.”

Canadian Jewish life is experiencing many of the same forces reshaping that of the United States, no doubt. All tolled, in a world in uproar, life remains overwhelmingly comfortable for Canadians, Jewish and not – something we should never take for granted, as forces of animosity and vilification exist here, too, and Israel faces real threats. But there are other issues facing the Jewish community – internal ones. The JPPI data hint at an increasingly polarized Diaspora community, religiously and politically, but don’t offer any analysis. A job beyond its scope, perhaps, but an issue about which we should all be thinking.