Do not cook a kid in its mother’s milk. Exodus 23:19
I became a vegetarian spontaneously one day
in an Islands restaurant after reading a pamphlet
from a pen-pal about vivisection.
It was 1986, back when having a pen-pal was a thing.
I was eighteen years old and, as is the custom
of that age, I knew everything there was to know.
That was my last chicken sandwich, or anything, really,
that had a face. Unless you count the beef I accidentally
ate last year when Chipotle got my order wrong.
Thirty years later, animals with sacred faces
roam my Van Nuys halls. I wouldn’t cook them
in anything, let alone their mother’s milk.
Other creatures, like foreigners, have found their way
to my front door, and I, fueled by the memory of
being a stranger in Egypt, open my tent to them,
lay out plastic bowls of premium food
so they will feel whole. So the human family
expands beyond its artificial boundaries.
Attention politicians: It says in the oldest texts
to welcome the stranger, not pretend the lines
we have drawn are not abhorrent to nature.
Take heed as you appeal for our votes.
A human being is a human being, even if they’re
from New Jersey, or places even stranger.
My conscience sits on my lap every day.
We are the consuming fire. We are forty days
and forty nights. These are the laws we live by.
Rick Lupert, a poet, songleader and graphic designer, is the author of 23 books including “God Wrestler: A Poem for Every Torah Portion.”
There are two Democratic parties in our country, and it has been clear for some time now that these progressive and centrist factions will collide later this spring in a clash that will define their prospects in this November’s elections and beyond. Until recently, what has been less clear is that the leaders of these two Democratic movements could end up being the first plausible Jewish presidential candidates in our nation’s history.
Bernie Sanders and Michael Bloomberg are not the first American Jews to seek the presidency. However, they already have reached a point of credibility as candidates that no previous Jewish candidate ever has achieved. Sanders has emerged as the de facto frontrunner in the Democratic field. Bloomberg has shot into the top tier of contenders on the strength of unprecedented levels of funding, advertising and field organizing.
While the competition for the centrist lane Bloomberg occupies is fierce, with Pete Buttigieg, Amy Klobuchar and Joe Biden still fighting for breathing space, and while Sanders has yet to put away Elizabeth Warren and Tom Steyer in the battle for progressive voters, it is a rational assumption to think the soul and future of the Democratic party will be defined by one of these two Jewish candidates.
Ideologically, the two men have little in common. Sanders is a fierce and unapologetic liberal firebrand; Bloomberg is a careful and measured economic corporatist. Sanders identifies as a Democratic Socialist. Bloomberg previously has registered as an independent and as a Republican. Sanders believes in a dramatically expanded public sector; Bloomberg sees the private sector as the primary engine of economic growth.
Sanders and Bloomberg represent two fundamental aspects of the Jewish psyche, and our choice between them will tell us much more about ourselves than simply our preference on the primary ballot.
They also represent two diametrically different attitudes regarding the United States’ path forward as a nation. Sanders calls for dramatic, sweeping and almost revolutionary change. He has made it clear defeating President Donald Trump is only the first step on the road to a more ambitious set of policy objectives. Bloomberg is a pragmatist who would push hard for big-ticket goals on issues such as climate change and gun control, but within a more traditional approach to coalition-building and public-private partnerships.
But for American Jews just coming to terms with the fact one of our own has the opportunity to become the nation’s first Jewish president, the most profound differences between Bloomberg and Sanders run deeper than matters of public policy or approach to leadership. The two men represent two fundamental aspects of the Jewish psyche, and our choice between them will tell us much more about ourselves than simply our preference on the primary ballot.
Long before beginning preparations for a bar or bat mitzvah, every Jewish child learns two basic truths about our identity as a people. The importance of academic achievement is made clear to us at a very early age. As we get older, we learn in addition to intellectual purpose, our schoolwork is designed to propel us on a path toward professional and economic success.
But we also are taught the importance of helping others, of providing support and comfort for those without the ability to care for themselves. From the earliest examples of tzedakah to more structured volunteer and philanthropic activities, we come to understand an essential part of Judaism is doing our part to repair the world.
In the context of this presidential campaign, Bloomberg and Sanders serve as avatars for these two formative aspects of Jewish culture and identity. Sanders has spent his entire political career aggressively advocating for the rights of the dispossessed and reminding us of the necessity of helping those less fortunate. Although Bloomberg has accomplished a level of economic success far beyond what most parents would dream of for their children, his academic and professional achievements represent a hyperbolic version of the goals set for us when young Jews are encouraged to devote themselves more fully to schoolwork.
Photo by Alex Wong/Getty Images
Admittedly, both of these examples are oversimplified, as neither man completely limits himself to his assigned box. Sanders consistently advocates for broader academic and professional opportunity, and Bloomberg has been a forceful voice for assistance to those in need. Sanders has achieved considerable personal wealth through investments, real estate and book sales, while Bloomberg has donated billions of dollars toward an array of charitable causes and policy goals. However, while neither of these two sets of goals are mutually exclusive, it is fair to argue both of these men have placed much greater emphasis on one of them. Bloomberg is an example of how we achieve success, even as we share the results of our successes with others. Sanders reminds us of the importance of sharing, sometimes at the expense of our own potential achievements.
Bloomberg is a pragmatist who would push hard for big-ticket goals on issues such as climate change and gun control, but within a more traditional approach to coalition-building and public-private partnerships.
As Jews, we can and should strive for both sets of objectives. We want to provide for our families and help others in need. Sanders and Bloomberg are not forcing us into a choice between the two, but rather reminding us of the importance of each. Both men want to help repair the world, but through dramatically different courses of action — and so our choice between their candidacies tells us which of those two approaches is more in concert with our own worldview.
Judaism isn’t about choosing success or sharing to the exclusion of the other, but about how we integrate and balance the two. The domestic policy goals Bloomberg and Sanders prioritize are unusually high-profile reminders about two ways to achieve that balance.
Similarly, their differences on Israel and Middle Eastern policy are telling. Not surprisingly, both candidates look at Israel’s economy through a similar prism as the way they view questions about job creation and economic growth in this country. Both approach these matters based on what they’ve learned from their personal and professional experiences. Sanders is the former kibbutznik who believes in the collectivist and communitarian version of the Israeli ideal. Bloomberg is the technologist who personifies the “Start-Up Nation” ethos that has propelled the Jewish homeland to great economic heights. Israel benefits from both attitudes among its own citizens; Bloomberg and Sanders reflect those differing visions in that country, too.
Bernie Sanders and Michael Bloomberg are not the first American Jews to seek the presidency. However, they already have reached a point of credibility as candidates that no previous Jewish candidate ever has achieved.
Just as stark are their differences on geopolitical matters. Sanders is part of a rapidly growing faction of Democratic progressives who aggressively question Israel’s strategy for co-existing with the Palestinians and place much greater emphasis on the Palestinian perspective than most Israeli political leaders. Bloomberg approaches these questions in a more traditional manner, emphasizing Israel’s safety and security needs and the threat Palestinian violence poses. Sanders would condition the U.S. aid to Israel on significant changes in Israeli policy toward the Palestinians; Bloomberg rejects such a negotiating strategy out of hand.
Photo by Spencer Platt/Getty Images
Again, the two Jewish candidates stand for different mindsets toward Israel among American Jews. Our community agrees on the need for peace between the Israelis and the Palestinians, but there is growing discord about how to get there. Bloomberg and Sanders speak effectively for the two main schools of thought on these matters among American Jews. This means if the two of them end up as the finalists for the Democratic nomination, many of us will be forced to take sides in this debate much more unambiguously — and much less comfortably — than we have in quite some time. It’s one thing to register approval or disapproval toward Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu from thousands of miles away; casting a ballot in a U.S. presidential primary for one form of Zionism or another is a much starker choice to confront. But Sanders and Bloomberg encapsulate two dramatically different ideas of not only what we want our country to be, but what we want Israel to be.
Finally, Sanders and Bloomberg represent versions of how we see ourselves as part of American society. We are outsiders here, as we have been in every country in which we have lived outside of our homeland. But one of the most difficult questions with which we struggle is what kind of outsiders we are; again, Bloomberg and Sanders represent very distinctive answers to that question.
What sort of outsiders are we? Truth be told, we still often see ourselves as an oppressed minority. The alarming increase in violence against our synagogues and our people have intensified this feeling, but it is a self-characterization we have justifiably carried with us for thousands of years. However, American Jews have achieved remarkable academic, professional, economic and political success, which means other minority communities regard us in a much different light than how we see ourselves.
One of the greatest challenges faced by American Jews in recent years has been the weakening of our relationships with other minority communities. There is a long and honored history of Jewish involvement and leadership in a range of civil rights and social justice efforts through the years. Yet public opinion polls suggest increasing numbers of minority voters no longer regard either the Jewish community here or the State of Israel as a positive presence. Finding a way to repair those relationships is an urgent necessity.
The recent fight in Sacramento over California’s ethnic studies curriculum for high school students crystalizes this disparity in a frustrating but helpful way. The courses have focused on four specific minority communities: African Americans, Latinos, Asian Pacific Islanders and Native Americans, and have included disparaging references to Jews and Israel. Through the commendable work of the Jewish Legislative Caucus, the insults will be removed from the curriculum. But it is very clear California’s state government has no intention of expanding the definition of “ethnic studies” to include those of Jewish ethnicity (as well as several other ethnic groups). We believe our story should be discussed alongside those of these other minority groups; the state of California emphatically disagrees, citing the commonly used definition of “ethnic studies” in higher education to include only the previously named four groups.
In the context of this presidential campaign, Bloomberg and Sanders serve as avatars for these two formative aspects of Jewish culture and identity.
The dichotomy is obvious: We American Jews see ourselves as an ethnic group, with the outsider status that term suggests. Political and educational orthodoxy says we are not, that our successes in this country mean that term no longer applies. This brings us back to what Sanders and Bloomberg represent in us.
Sanders is the ultimate political outsider, a status in which he has reveled throughout his career. He is never happier than when he is raging against the machine and marshalling the resources and energies of fellow outsiders to storm the gates of power. On the other hand, Bloomberg’s professional and political achievements have brought him inside those gates and led him to the conclusion that working for change within the system is more effective than agitating from without. The part of our self-regard as Jews that reminds us that we are outsiders identifies with Sanders; the part that reflects our successes helps us understand Bloomberg. As a people, we are both insiders and outsiders in U.S. society. Bloomberg and Sanders each represent one aspect of that whole.
If one of these two men does become president, it would seem the American Jewish community would have achieved the ultimate in insider status. But African Americans have learned since Barack Obama’s election 12 years ago that even achieving the highest office in the land does not eliminate long-standing hatred and anger. A Bloomberg presidency would reinforce the perception of Jewish Americans as insiders to a much greater degree — much as John Kennedy’s election symbolized a similar achievement for Irish Catholics — while Sanders would presumably use the office’s bully pulpit as a platform in a way that would underscore our history as those excluded from the halls of power.
The two Jewish candidates stand for different mindsets toward Israel among American Jews. Our community agrees on the need for peace between the Israelis and the Palestinians, but there is growing discord about how to get there.
The animosity directed toward Jews comes from both the far right and the far left. Sanders and Bloomberg are much more comfortable calling out the ultra-conservatives whose exclusionary nationalism habitually oozes into anti-Semitism than those on the far-left fringes, whose anti-Zionism frequently bleeds into anti-Semitism as well. There is little doubt both men would forcefully denounce the haters on the right. The more challenging question is how would either, as the first Jewish president, confront those voices coming from the left.
By definition, progressives are committed to fighting on behalf of the underdog. This discussion becomes more complicated when it comes time to determine who should qualify for underdog status. American Jews still regard themselves not just as outsiders but as those who face persecution because of their beliefs. We see ourselves as David, but much of the rest of society thinks we are Goliath — and committed progressives rarely are willing to wield their slings on behalf of a giant.
On this front as well, the differences between what Sanders and Bloomberg would represent are profound. Does the Sanders brother-in-arms approach yield more likelihood for success than Bloomberg’s philanthropic mindset? Is it better to say “We’re David, too” in the face of understandable skepticism, or to admit we once were David and want to help other challenged communities rise the way we have?
Judaism isn’t about choosing success or sharing to the exclusion of the other, but about how we integrate and balance the two. The domestic policy goals Bloomberg and Sanders prioritize are unusually high-profile reminders about two ways to achieve that balance.
This is a challenge we face in our own lives when interacting with other communities. Bloomberg and Sanders offer two contrasting approaches for us to consider and potentially follow. Our history suggests we are coalition builders; our contemporary approach leans more toward philanthropy than interpersonal involvement. Both are necessary parts of the solution, but Sanders and Bloomberg would achieve this balance in different ways.
The primary season is far from over, and it is possible to see the nomination fight continuing into the summer. Sanders seems to be solidifying his hold on the party’s progressive bloc, but Bloomberg’s path though the center lane will be much more complicated. For most Jewish voters — who oppose Trump’s re-election by immense margins — the decision will come down to which candidate is better positioned to defeat the current president in a general election matchup.
Even here, Bloomberg and Sanders offer contrasting formulas to victory, as Bloomberg and other centrists argue they are better positioned to persuade undecided voters, while Sanders and his fellow progressives make the case that motivating the Democratic base to turn out in high numbers is the more effective strategy. (Trump will do his best to leverage his support for Israel to poach even a small percentage of Jewish voters, which could play a decisive role in key swing states such as Florida and Nevada.)
Sanders is the ultimate political outsider, a status in which he has reveled throughout his career. He is never happier than when he is raging against the machine and marshalling the resources and energies of fellow outsiders to storm the gates of power. On the other hand, Bloomberg’s professional and political achievements have brought him inside those gates and led him to the conclusion that working for change within the system is more effective than agitating from without.
If Bloomberg and Sanders emerge as the leaders of the two wings of the Democratic Party, the stark contrasts between them on economic policy will be instructive but fairly typical. The dynamic between the two on the Middle East is less familiar to us but appears to represent the emerging future on Israel-related issues in the years ahead.
But in addition to their vast differences on matters of public policy, a Sanders-Bloomberg showdown also represents an unusual opportunity for we American Jews to look within ourselves to consider questions of who we are and who we want to be. Bloomberg and Sanders represent aspects of our core Jewish identity and seem poised to force us to decide which parts of ourselves are the most important to each of us.
Dan Schnur is a professor at the USC Annenberg School for Communication and Journalism, UC Berkeley’s Institute of Governmental Studies and Pepperdine University.
The week after next, three events will reflect and/or impact the bipartisan nature of the U.S.-Israel alliance. On March 1, AIPAC will hold its annual policy conference. On March 2, Israel will hold a general election. On March 3, the Democratic Party will have its Super Tuesday primary election. This means that on March 4, we might be in bigger trouble than we are now — or begin to see a light.
Scenario one: Likud’s Benjamin Netanyahu is reelected to another term as prime minister at the head of a right-religious coalition. Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.) defeats his rivals to become the presumptive nominee of the Democratic Party.
Scenario two: Blue and White’s Benny Gantz and a centrist coalition become Israel’s ruling majority. Mike Bloomberg defeats Sanders and becomes the most likely Democratic candidate.
If you believe U.S.-Israel relations supported by a bipartisan American majority is greatly influenced by the ebb and flow of a frequently changing political landscape, then these two scenarios lead to a very different outcome. The first: a clash and a highly partisan fight over Israel in the U.S. The second: a relative calm.
What is the underlying concept of bipartisan support for Israel? Put simply, it is the notion that policies related to Israel basically are undisputed, and when there are differences between parties or leaders concerning Israel-related issues, the gap is narrow enough to overcome. As everyone understands, the concept of bipartisanship is becoming challenging in a highly polarized American society. But Israel has a special interest in the bipartisan nature of the support for it because its reliance on the U.S. is such that it can hardly afford periods in which U.S. policies are indifferent or hostile to its needs.
As everyone understands, the concept of bipartisanship is becoming challenging in a highly polarized American society.
AIPAC is the epitome of bipartisan support for Israel. Yet presidential candidate Sen. Elizabeth Warren (D-Mass.) vowed to skip it. AIPAC strongly supported moving the U.S. embassy to Jerusalem, yet Sanders says moving it back to Tel Aviv “would be on the table” under certain circumstances. Can AIPAC forge a path for a bipartisan U.S. policy under such terms? And what would it be? A relocation of the embassy to Modi’in, about halfway between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv?
What about the question of the parties’ general approaches to U.S. foreign affairs? Can one carve a path to a bipartisan support for Israel when the candidate of one party believes the nuclear agreement with Iran was a travesty — President Donald Trump withdrew the U.S. from the pact in May 2018 — while most other candidates on the other side would “reenter the deal with no new preconditions”? (The quotes of Democratic candidates are taken from the New York Times foreign policy survey of their views on a variety of topics.)
The larger question about bipartisanship isn’t the one about this or that leader, be it Netanyahu and Sanders or Trump and Gantz. It is the question about general public support for Israel and all that comes with it. The elected leaders usually reflect their voters’ beliefs; hence, one must wonder about these voters. Do they deem Israel an ally or a rogue? Is it seen as a model or a pariah? Is it seen as a country deserving sympathy or condemnation, assistance or pressure?
Debates about Israel-related policies always were a part of public discourse, and no one expects the two main parties will agree on all the details. However, some tenets were considered foundational to the idea of bipartisan support and these also seem under threat. Military aid to Israel is one such topic. When Sanders says“Aid can be conditioned on Israel taking steps to end the occupation and move toward a peace agreement,” that’s a change. When candidates preach for a more even-handed approach — no more prioritizing the alliance with Israel — that’s a change. And it is a change from “support” to “less support.”
Bipartisanship is defined by basic agreement on some fundamental features of policy toward Israel. But when everything — including the embassy’s site, right of return, aid, Iran’s threat, use of force — is open for discussion, what is left of bipartisanship is very little. It is the cliché all candidates make sure to repeat about “Israel’s right to exist.” Well, thank you. You have a right to exist, too.
When 27-year-old Zoë Morgan first landed in Israel on a Birthright trip, the tour went straight from the airport to the Golan Heights. She fell asleep on the bus. “I woke up and looked around and was like, ‘Am I in Napa?’ The landscape, the smell. For me, this was the first impression of this country and it felt nostalgic; felt like home.”
Morgan grew up in St. Helena, a town of 5,000 people in the heart ofCalifornia wine country in the Napa Valley. “We were the only family that had two Jewish parents in our town,” she said, and they didn’t think much about their Judaism, let alone Israel. “We never had a Jewish identity because our identity was based on the food and wine industry,” Morgan said. “My dad has been in the wine industry for 35 years.”
Today, Morgan’s parents, Jeff and Jodie, are co-owners of Covenant Wines, the only American winery making wine in both California and Israel. A chance meeting in Napa Valley with famed Israeli winemaker Eli Ben Zaken of Domaine du Castel winery in the Jerusalem Hills led Jeff Morgan down the path of kosher winemaking and brought his family closer to Judaism and Israel.
After that initial Birthright trip, Zoë returned in 2012 for her junior year abroad to study at the University of Haifa. Three days before she was due to fly back to the United States, she met a guy (now her husband) and stayed. In 2016, Morgan officially joined the family business and became the director of hospitality, sales and marketing for Covenant Israel.
“Right now, what’s so exciting about the wine industry in Israel is that it’s coming back to life.”
“It’s like being in a startup,” Morgan said. “You don’t have one job. It’s a little bit of everything. Right now, what’s so exciting about the wine industry in Israel is that it’s coming back to life.”
Morgan echoes her father’s initial vision for Covenant Israel: “This can be a world-famous winemaking place. … It’s all about the ‘terroir’ (soil, weather, elevation).” But perhaps even more than the “terroir,” the Morgans were drawn to the land itself. “We have a history of winemaking here that goes back thousands of years,” Morgan said.
As romantic as it all sounds, Morgan emphasizes that it is a business, like any other. “It is hard work. You are putting yourself out there, you are getting rejected.”
Covenant Israel participated in the Sommelier show on Feb. 10-11, the Israeli wine event of the year that brings together winemakers, sommeliers, distributors, wholesalers, restaurateurs and hoteliers. “Yesterday, we presented our 2019 rosé, and my dad said, ‘This is the rosé I’ve been trying to make in Israel.’ We finally got there.”
Expressing profound gratitude for everything her parents have done for her, and pride in their vision and hard work, Morgan hopes to continue in the family business. “I feel that being able to take a dream that they had, and something they have created, and take it to the next generation, to the next level — that’s the proudest thing I could do in my life.”
The Jewish Council for Public Affairs (JCPA) held its national conference in Washington, D.C., on Feb. 8-11. Speakers from various Jewish organizations shared tools to combat anti-Semitism, and there were discussions about best practices that could be replicated in Jewish communities across the United States.
In a statement, JCPA Senior Vice President Melanie Gorelick said, “At the upcoming JCPA 2020 national conference, we will be creating a roadmap to leverage the community relations field to combat anti-Semitism. We will be discussing crucial questions: Are we effectively combating anti-Semitism? Are we standing with other communities on issues on which they feel vulnerable? Are we involved in shaping local policies related to housing, education and employment, which will help elevate the lives of those in poverty? Are we ourselves running for office and sitting on boards of non-Jewish charities with our Jewish civic engagement hat on? When we are engaged with others on common issues, we demonstrate our values and influence thinking about us.”
At the plenary session on Feb. 9, there was a panel discussion with members of several Jewish Community Relations Councils (JCRC) discussing programs designed to combat anti-Semitism. Sam Kaplan, president of the Washington JCRC and a board member of the JCPA, spoke about the Institute for the Study of Contemporary Antisemitism’s (ISCA) report to the U.S. State Department that detailed best practices to combat anti-Semitism on social media.
ISCA’s report recommended to social media companies, “Closing influential anti-Semitic accounts and/or taking such posts and all correlating reposts offline can significantly reduce the amount of anti-Semitic content.” For users on social media, the report noted that “counter-narratives do not change attitudes of convinced anti-Semites, and opposing their messages can even highlight them and incite anti-Semites to send more anti-Semitic posts to back up their initial position. However, critical reactions to anti-Semitic posts are also seen by others in the respective social media circles and demonstrate that such messages do not go unchallenged. Counter-narratives are more effective with users who are not hardcore anti-Semites, and can initiate critical reflections on stereotypes and support bystanders in becoming partners in the fight against anti-Semitism. Counter-narratives can prevent anti-Semitic norms from being established, and they can give an important voice to anti-anti-Semites and provide them with resources. Current strategies of counter-narratives, however, are too labor intensive to be implemented on a larger scale.”
“When we are engaged with others on common issues, we demonstrate our values and influence thinking about us.”
— Melanie Gorelick
The report also said, “Cooperation with NGOs [nongovernmental organizations] combating hate speech against minorities other than Jews makes sense when combating anti-Semitism from white supremacists who also target other minorities. The same is not true for combating anti-Semitism from anti-Zionist anti-Semites who focus their hate on Jews and Israelis. Alliances with organizations combating online support for Islamist terrorism might be more effective here as some of the more radical ‘anti-Zionist’ users endorse terror against Israeli targets and justify terror against Jews as a form of ‘resistance’ against Israel.”
Stephanie Hausner, deputy director of the Israel Action Network, spoke about the Jewish Federations of North America’s FedLab program. FedLab was a meeting between leaders from Jewish federations across the U.S. with the goal of creating objectives for those local federations to pursue. The next steps encouraged by FedLab were to expand security, security assessments, government relations and community relations.
Elana Kahn, director of the Milwaukee JCRC, spoke about the Hours Against Hate program, in which participants spend an hour or more interacting with someone of a different race, culture, religion or other characteristic of someone different, under the premise that one-on-one interactions can promote respect and dismantle bigotry. Kahn also spoke about the Milwaukee JCRC’s annual audit of anti-Semitic incidents. The audit is sent to relevant authorities as well as organizations such as the Anti-Defamation League so there is a more comprehensive data set regarding those incidents.
Jackie Congedo, director of the Cincinnati JCRC, spoke about the Driving Out Darkness program, a regional summit in Cincinnati that discusses anti-Semitism.
Karen Elam, director of Jewish Federation of Greater Rochester’s Levine Center to End Hate, spoke about her organization. The Levine Center to End Hate provides programming with the goal of combating hate, such as hosting an event where a former white supremacist speaks about his process of leaving the movement.
At the plenary session on Feb. 11, there was a panel discussion regarding the methods of dealing with the problems anti-Semitism causes. Rob Goldberg of JFNA spoke about the Nonprofit Security Grant Program (NSGP), a program of the U.S. Department of Homeland Security that provides grants to at-risk nonprofits to put in place physical security enhancements at their facilities.
Zachary Leshin is a writer and former congressional staffer based in Washington, D.C.
The following is a speech given by Judea Pearl at the Alums for Campus Fairness (ACF) conference on Feb. 10 in Los Angeles:
This title makes me feel like an arms dealer, the most despised profession in our peace-loving century. Relax. The weapons I am about to offer you are not missiles and rockets but rhetorical devices. Devices that I have found to be effective and empowering in light of our experience at UCLA, which, as many of you know, went through several hostile incidents, including intimidation, bullying, meeting disruptions, exclusion from student government and other campus activities, and the infamous SJP [Students for Justice in Palestine] national conference, November last year.
The two weapons are:
1. The emancipation of our identity,
2. The moralization of our cause
By “emancipation of identity,” I mean to stop seeking protection for Jewish students from anti-Semitism, and demand instead protection for Zionist students from anti-Zionism. By “moralizing our cause,” I mean moving our fight from the legal to the moral arena.
Both movements may sound heretical given the rise of anti-Semitism nationwide, and the fact that anti-Semitism is enshrined by law, by executive orders and by other institutional instruments.
However, remembering that our goal is to win the support and friendship of students in left-leaning campuses, campuses in which every legal action is seen as infringement on free speech, and every association with the Trump administration as a Republican Party ploy, we must resist the temptation of using the anti-Semitic card, and appeal instead to the moral dimension, where our case is much stronger.
Moreover, the term anti-Semitism makes us easily dismissible by anyone who wishes to take cover under the slogan “anti-Zionism is not anti-Semitism.”
“Many of my Jewish friends support BDS [boycott, divestment and sanctions],” etc. Why make it easy for them?
• Instead, we should demand explicit recognition as “identity Zionists” — a new minority group, bonded together by a distinct miraculous journey in the past and an inspirational vision for the future. It makes perfect sense.
• Since Jews are a history-bonded collective, and Israel is the culmination of Jewish history, elementary logic dictates that Zionism is an essential component of Jewish identity.
• Zionist students and faculty should therefore be recognized as distinct and independent contributors to the cultural diversity of the campus.
• I said “Zionist,” not “Jewish,” which is easy to pay lip service to.
• This means that in all matters concerning code of conduct, Zionism should attain the same protection status as any religion or nationality or identity-distinct collective, and anti-Zionism should turn as despicable and condemnable as Islamophobia, women inferiority, or white supremacy.
Sounds like a fantasy? Not at all. Such recognition was in fact accepted by California State University in a recent legal settlement of a lawsuit filed by students at San Francisco State. It is now binding, and we should insist that an identical wording be accepted by every campus administration.
The word “anti-Semitism” … should be replaced by a fighting word: “Zionophobia” — “the irrational denial (and fear) of a homeland for the Jewish people.”
“For many Jews, Zionism is an important part of their identity.”
It sounds benign, but has far reaching consequences. It means that we are not claiming to speak for JVP [Jewish Voice for Peace], or IfNotNow, not even J Street and their schizophrenic torment over their Jewish identity. No. We are speaking for ourselves only, the vast majority of Jewish faculty and students who feel strongly about their historical roots, and who now demand identity status.
We should insist on this status in every meeting with campus officials, relentlessly, incessantly, before we even make an appointment. It is a prerequisite for any discussion of our posture on campus and it is the litmus test for our inclusion or exclusion in/out or the campus family.
(I should add that the administration’s failure to grant us this recognition is not entirely their fault — no one has asked them to do it. We naively assumed that it is self-evident so, as time passed, they forgot how to spell “Zionism.” No more! Zionism has a spelling.)
***
I now address our second weapon: The moralization of our cause.
It entails two components: First, we should not beg for safe space but create one, through assertiveness and self-awareness of our just and noble cause. Second, we should demand that the university leadership argues our cause campus-wide.
How do we create safe space?
• Again, the word “anti-Semitism” works against us because it connotes begging for protection. It should be replaced by a fighting word: “Zionophobia” — “the irrational denial (and fear) of a homeland for the Jewish people.”
• It rhymes with Islamophobia, on purpose, of course.
• When you call someone a “Zionophobe” it means: “If you deny my people’s right to a homeland, something is wrong with you, regardless of how much strongly you love Jews and how ferociously you fight for a kosher cafeteria on campus. In fact, something very basic is wrong with you because you are trampling on universal principles of human right, the right of a people to freedom, equality and dignity.
Jewish students will regain respect only when “Zionophobia” becomes the ugliest word on campus. It depends on us; if we use it often enough — it will become the ugliest.
***
How can campus administration help in the process of moralizing our cause?
Let me assure you, every university administrator hates what the BDS circus is doing to campus life. Administrators care of two things only: funding and ranking, none of which is helped by BDS hostilities. What they don’t understand is that they can stop the BDS circus overnight by making it very, very costly to them. How?
Let me ask around: What is the thing the BDS fears the most? Anyone cares to guess?
Of course, it is the truth about Israel. Imagine how they would react if, after every one of their Purim shpiels, the university issues a public statement of how inspiring Israel is to every decent person on this planet.
Blue sky? Far-fetched? Not really. Selective affirmation of norms and values is an instrument that has been used effectively by campus administrators, even at UCLA. When Milo Yiannopoulos came to speak on campus in 2018, his views were denounced explicitly on moral grounds, and the cultural contributions of Latinos to our city and our country were highlighted proudly by [UCLA] Chancellor [Gene D.] Block, and communicated to the entire campus community, through all the horns and media outlets that chancellors can orchestrate.
Block could have used the same instrument to denounce the National SJP conference and tell the campus community how central Zionism is to the collective identity of students and faculty on campus, and how inspirational Israel is to him, personally, as an American who cares for democracy and human rights.
Block did not do it but Martha Pollack did, the president of Cornell. After SJP made its perennial demand to divest from Israel, she issued a public statement from which SJP has not recovered yet.
In addition to the standard arguments of BDS being “non-academic” and “divisive,” as if anyone cares for those, she added: “[BDS] often conflates the policies of the Israeli government with the very right of Israel to exist as a nation, which I find particularly troublesome.”
This simple sentence, written in first person, was sufficient for Cornell students to understand that Israel’s existence is a moral imperative and opposition to it is morally reprehensible.
If there is anything that may stop the BDS crusade of intimidation and criminalization it is precisely the fear that, each time they launch one of those funny “resolutions” or “petitions,” a university leader will remind the campus who they are, who you are, what they stand for, what you stand for, and why demonizing Israel is a moral deformity.
Cornell is your second weapon — use it!
Thank you and good luck.
Judea Pearl is a professor at UCLA, president of the Daniel Pearl Foundation and a co-editor of “I Am Jewish: Personal Reflections Inspired by the Last Words of Daniel Pearl” (Jewish Lights, 2004), winner of the National Jewish Book Award.
Sometimes, everything feels broken. Our country is rocking with political chaos. There is so much to be worried about, from deadly flu strains to economic instability. On top of this chaos, everyone is dealing with personal challenges and crises.
How and when will the divisions be healed? Will we ever feel safe? Do we dare to hope for a world that is less angry, more kind and more generous?
It’s not “nice” to do but “necessary” to find ways to be grounded and, dare I say, hopeful. Becoming bitter and angry may feel good and justified for a while, but then you figure out these emotions can eat you alive.
Here are a few ways to keep yourself centered:
In spite of everything:
Think about Anne Frank. The Frank family hid in an attic before she and her family were discovered and deported to Bergen-Belsen concentration camp. Anne and her sister, Margot, died there in 1945. Anne was 15.
I think about Anne a lot. I wonder how she could have written these words in her diary:
“It’s really a wonder that I haven’t dropped all my ideals, because they seem so absurd and impossible to carry out. Yet I keep them, because in spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart.”
Anne never saw the end of the war. She never saw Germany defeated or justice done at the Nuremberg trials. Yet, somehow, this young woman clung to hope and optimism: “Think of all the beauty still left around you and be happy.”
Remember Anne, and think about what you can do today to find a bit of beauty.
The arc that bends toward justice:
Another perspective that helps broaden our perspective is this one from Unitarian minister Theodore Parker. He wrote, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”
Justice and change take time, but there is an ever-increasing march toward the truth, albeit sometimes as slow as molasses.
Becoming bitter and angry may feel good and justified for a while, but then you figure out these emotions can eat you alive.
Claudette Colvin was a brave 15-year-old African American schoolgirl who refused to give up her seat to a white passenger on the bus she rode in Alabama in 1955. This was before Rosa Parks’ refusal to change seats on a bus. Fifty-three years later, the first black president was elected, opening the doors of possibility forever.
Think of Claudette. What can you do to stand up or speak out, even if you don’t know the outcome?
On that day …:
In dark times, affirm your deepest hopes. The Kaddish prayer, recited at funerals and in memory of those we have lost, is a waterfall of praise to God. The prayer reminds us, compels us, to not give in to despair.
Our Aleinu prayer, chanted at the conclusion of daily prayer services ends with: “Bayom hahu yiheyeh adonai echad u’shemo echad.” (“On that day, God will be One and the world will be one.”)
On a day to come, we will be united, we will come together and the world will be one. This vision is worth fighting for, even when it feels very far away.
Singer Matisyahu echoes this sentiment in his song “One Day”:
Sometimes in my tears I drown
But I never let it get me down
So when negativity surrounds
I know some day it’ll all turn around
Because
All my life I’ve been waiting for
I’ve been praying for
For the people to say
That we don’t wanna fight no more
They’ll be no more wars
And our children will play
One day (one day), One day (one day)
Stay connected to hope. What can you do this week to stay inspired, to keep your faith and to gather with others?
Rabbi Jill Berkson Zimmerman is a rabbi-at-large. Her website can be found here. She works with individuals in spiritual guidance and teaches widely. For weekly inspiration, sign up for her newsletter.
Recently I was talking to my friend Ryan on the phone when I heard a strange sound from his end. He said it was a flood alert on his phone. I asked, “Where are you? Mississippi? The Mekong Delta?” He replied, “82nd and Central Park West.”
While I was growing up in the Bronx and Queens, not only were there no flood alerts, there were no floods — unless you count the time my mother left the bathtub tap running and went to the supermarket to get Tang. That was when I was deciding whether I wanted to become an astronaut.
Back then, there were few warnings but the major one was the nuclear bomb alert. Students were told they would be safe by hiding under desks. I don’t know which is worse — that we did the drills or that we believed they would save us.
The only other big warnings were from my parents about my behavior. “I’m warning you, you’d better start behaving.” That was usually followed by “or else.” I once asked what “or else” meant. That was followed by, “You’ll see what ‘or else’ means.” “You’ll see” is 10 times more frightening than “or else.” Otherwise a simple, “Be careful” covered almost everything.
Now when I gas up my car, there’s a sign on the pump warning about potential cancer risks. So I need to decide whether to fill up or walk 19 miles to work.
During a recent family trip to Alaska, we took a bus from Seward to Anchorage. Before we left, the driver gave us a 10-minute warning talk. She described how to open and climb out the windows in case the bus caught fire and was about to explode. She told us what to do if a grizzly bear boarded the bus and wanted to hitch a ride. She then careened down a wet mountain road at about 50 mph with one hand on the steering wheel and the
other holding a footlong Subway meatball hero.
My favorite is the warning from flight attendants who tell you, with a straight face, to tighten your seat belt in the event the plane’s engines conk out and it spirals downward toward the Earth at 500 mph.
No matter how many warning lights flash or how many times I’m told to beware of potential dangers, nothing alleviates my fear. What I need is a light to tell me when all is well.
I recently installed the Ring camera at my front door and half a dozen more around the perimeter of my home. I get 10 to 50 warnings a day from Ring about local home invasions, armed robberies and car break-ins. Someone should have warned me about how frightened I was going to be because of all the warnings Ring sends out.
My first car had an oil light warning and that was it. There are close to 30 warning lights on my Kia. It’s impossible to figure out what most of the icons represent. One indicates whether the suspension dampers are in trouble. Anyone even know what a suspension damper is?
No matter how many warning lights flash or how many times I’m told to beware of potential dangers, nothing alleviates my fear. What I need is a light to tell me when all is well. The truth is, things are all right. So, I need a way to let in the good light. The comforting light. The light that helps fix things. The light that warms my soul.
We light Shabbos candles to bring more light into the world. Shabbos is good light. My faith and trust in God enable me to relax, if at all, and bring more good light to me. Loosely translated in Hebrew, it’s known as emunah (faith) and bitachon (trust).
Until I’m in touch with my emunah and bitachon, the negative lights and warnings always burn brightly. For most people, emunah and bitachon are developed over a lifetime and, like lifting weights, they need to be worked on regularly so you can get stronger and better at it. So have some trust and faith. Take care of what you can take care of. And as Tom Bodett says on the Motel 6 commercials, “We’ll leave the light on for you.” Just make sure it’s the good light.
Mike Bloomberg is not a radical. However, he is running the most radically Jewish campaign in U.S. history.
In January, Bloomberg spoke at a prominent synagogue in Miami at a podium adorned with “United for Mike.” The “i” in his name was embellished with a Star of David. His campaign distributes identical posters at secular events as well as signs that read “Mishpucha for Mike.” The term is Yiddish for “family,” but more specifically, “family” in the Jewish sense.
Bloomberg stated he will not make Jewish Americans choose between Israel and their liberal values, and after the speech, he treated the audience to black-and-white cookies and rugelach.
Being Jewish, both culturally and politically, is bold — and Bloomberg knows it.
The former mayor of New York City has said that being Jewish is a political hindrance. In 2008, Bloomberg stated he would not campaign for the presidency because a “short, Jewish, divorced billionaire” could not win. However, Bloomberg has never minimized his Judaism for political palatability. Campaigning for mayor of New York City in 2005, he wore a kippah in front of balloons that read “Mike the Mensch.”
Whether or not you agree with that claim, Bloomberg’s current Jewish pride is groundbreaking. According to the American Jewish Committee, one-third of Jews avoid publicly identifying as Jewish out of fear for their safety. Meanwhile, Bloomberg is handing out oneg treats during the most public time of his life.
In an age of kosher-supermarket shootings and synagogue stabbings, celebrating Jewish culture is true courage.
Noting that Bloomberg has centered on his Jewish heritage is not questioning the Jewishness of any other presidential candidate. Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.) is vocally Jewish — but that’s a new phenomenon. Much to the ire of some Jewish voters, Sanders repeatedly said his parents were Polish immigrants, rather than Jewish ones — a distinction that bears significance given that Polish Jews were never recognized as Poles.
In his first presidential campaign, Sanders didn’t bring up his Jewishness. After anti-Semitic violence in Poway, Pittsburgh and Jersey City, N.J., anti-Semitism is topical. Still, when Sanders mentions his identity, it’s frequently to advocate for other marginalized groups rather than fellow Jews, or defend figures who have demonstrated anti-Semitism, such as activist Linda Sarsour, Reps. Rashida Tlaib (D-Mich.) and Ilhan Omar (D-Minn.).
In an age of kosher-supermarket shootings and synagogue stabbings, celebrating Jewish culture is true courage. What makes Bloomberg’s campaign so empoweringly Jewish is not the Yiddish, but capturing the Jewish policy perspective.
“The toxic culture the president has created is harming our relationship with Israel,” Bloomberg said in Miami. “If I am elected, you will never have to choose between supporting Israel and supporting our values here at home.”
The majority of American Jews despise President Donald Trump and support Israel. According to an August 2019 Gallup poll, 68% of Jews are Democrats or left-leaning Independents, and 69% disapprove of Trump’s performance. Meanwhile, 95% remain pro-Israel. The majority of us (76%) feel an emotional attachment to the Jewish state, with almost half of us expressing that caring about Israel is “an essential part of being Jewish.”
For years, there has been an agonizing discussion over the place of Jews in politics. Far too many of us feel that to be accepted in our left-leaning ideologies, we must completely check our Zionism — for many, a vital element of being Jewish — at the door.
Bloomberg has watched us struggle at the welcome mat; he’s ensuring we still have a political home.
Ariel Sobel is a screenwriter, filmmaker and activist.
Maimonides’ “Guide for the Perplexed” warns against misplaced mercy, as compassion for the wicked amounts to cruelty to everyone else. Unfortunately, this sound advice is falling from favor in many contexts.
Look at baseball’s sign-stealing scandal. Players suspected of cheating received immunity, in part due to union rules impeding suspensions. The union likewise shielded cheaters in the past by barring the league from testing for steroids. This is a narrow definition of “protecting” player interests.
Misplaced mercy has spread far beyond baseball. Advocates tried to make it harder to suspend students after observing suspension negatively affects the academic performance of suspended students. Former Gov. Jerry Brown vetoed the idea, trusting teachers’ and principals’ judgment about when and how to punish.
Similar policies nationwide have proved calamitous, protecting bullies from suspension unless they actually drew blood. A student could tell a 12-year-old girl to “Suck my —,” but the school could not suspend him unless he forced her head to his crotch. Teachers with toothless authority requesting students do their work or even sit down and not disrupt class were met with profanity and threats.
These changes created winners and losers. Bullies escaped consequences, which benefited them but harmed the vast majority of students and teachers who just wanted to learn and teach. Shielding disruptive, defiant students reduced the safety, morale and instruction available for everyone else.
Gov. Gavin Newsom signed the legislation Brown vetoed. Schools no longer will suspend willfully defiant students from middle school next fall.
This ethos extends beyond schools. The incoming San Francisco district attorney has condemned long prison sentences that “destroyed communities, taking [parents], brothers, husbands, and sisters away from their loved ones.” He dismantled the unit prosecuting gang criminals and will not seek sentence enhancements against them.
These changes will … protect criminals from long sentences. What abouteveryone else?
These changes also will create winners and losers. It will protect criminals from long sentences, and keep their families together. What about everyone else? Although punishment takes parents from children, so does crime itself, and many of those children will never get to visit.
California cut its violent crime rate by almost two-thirds in the past generation by imposing longer sentences and limiting early release. For every three people murdered in 1993, two of them were not in 2014. That represents hundreds of thousands of people who still can see their loved ones.
Most people like this enhanced safety, and don’t want to lose it. They voted for Proposition 57, whose title promised “Parole for Non-Violent Criminals” and whose declared primary purpose was to “Protect and enhance public safety.” But while it confined parole to nonviolent criminals, it provided sentence credits for all, so murderers and other violent criminals can cut their terms in half, or more. And statutory redefinitions will shield many from murder convictions in the first place — and these apply retroactively.
Prop. 57 offered a compromise on juveniles, preserving adult trials but trusting judges (rather than prosecutors) to decide which violent juveniles deserved them. But the legislature then barred trying any of them as adults. Most courts justified this as furthering “public safety”; only one court in Ventura rejected it as directly contradicting the measure’s authorizing adult trials: “The Legislature cannot overrule the electorate” because “All power of government ultimately resides in the People.”
Sadly, the attorney general, the state’s chief law enforcement officer, filed a brief supporting the legislature’s overruling the people. The Supreme Court will decide whether the legislature can compel the release of an unremorseful, two-time murderer by his 25th birthday — if not sooner.
But lawmakers must show comparable concern for the players, students and citizens who keep the rules, lest kindness to the cruel end up as cruelty to the kind.
Mitchell Keiter is the director of Amicus Populi, which represents the people’s interest in public safety in cases before the Supreme Courts of the United States and California.
