NCSY discusses Jewish identity, Zionism, & a binational state after the Six-Day War

Highlights from a 1968 NCSY Guide to Israel -- an unapologetically Religious Zionist text that also promotes intellectual engagement with ideological opponents -- with editing contributions from Meir Kahane

While in my shul’s library over Shavuot,1 I found a paper booklet published in June 19682 by the National Council of Synagogue Youth (NCSY), the primary Modern Orthodox youth group. Titled Israel: Eretz Israel, Land of Promise, it provides a fascinating picture of how American Modern Orthodox Jews saw the State of Israel in the wake of the Six-Day War. 

The booklet — which had a price of $1.50 — is about 110 pages and an absolute treasure trove of historical and sociological information. Selecting which parts to quote here was very difficult. (I would upload the booklet in its entirety, but I don’t see a way I could do so without violating copyright. If you would like a pdf for personal or research use — feel free to contact me.) 

Here are cover, title pages, and table of contents:

  • The cover of Israel: Eretz Israel, Land of Promise

Table of Contents

As one can see from the Table of Contents, the book is filled with articles on a variety of topics. What is less apparent is the diversity of format — there are essays on religious ideals as they relate to Zionism and Jewish identity, accounts of the Six Day War, and halakhic issues of ascending the Temple Mount. There’s also a fictional discussion between a young NCSYer visiting his “Uncle Shmuel” in Israel for the first time and a panel discussion of NCSYers discussing responses to the 1967 war (“Jewishness in Israel.”)

And the last section of the book is the most fascinating: titled “Food for Thought — Topics for Discussion — Plans for Action,” there are a series of contemporaneous topics for discussion and activity. 


The preface, from Rabbi Pinchas Stolper,3 explains that the manuscript of the book was originally written by Michael Rosenak,4 “a resident of Jerusalem, who was active for many years in American Jewish youth movements.” Stolper continues:

Mike [Rosenak] is a prominent educator and author who is on the faculty of the Machon Lemadrichei Chutz La’aretz5 in Jerusalem. Despite the fact that I discussed changes in the manuscript with Mike, I have subsequently taken liberties with the text without consulting him; I therefore assume all responsibility for the final form of this text. In the second edition, further editions and changes were made by Rabbi Meir Kahane and Yaakov Kornreich. [emphasis mine]

I’m not anywhere close to well-versed in Kahane’s writings, but given that this was published in the same year that he founded the JDL (1968), I’m not sure how far right he was holding on questions of Zionism at the time. If there’s any writing in this book that shows obvious signs of his ideology, I’m not learned enough to recognize it. Still, Kahane’s name definitely jumps out of the page as an interesting historical quirk.

Here are some highlights from the rest of the booklet.

The Land of Israel as a Conditional Gift

Near the beginning there are lots of sections explaining religious concepts as they relate to modern Zionism. This one, “Eretz Israel — A Conditional Gift” (p. 19), stood out to me. Putting behavioral conditions on Jewish presence/control of Eretz Yisrael — an idea with plenty of rabbinic sources and even explicit verses in the Torah6 — seems less emphasized in Religious Zionist circles these days:    

When the [Jewish] people went into exile, they realized the meaning of the Torah’s promise that their sins would result in the destruction of their country. Then they realized that the Land of Israel is a workshop, a laboratory given by the Lord to a people previously called into existence for the purpose of using the land to carry out G-d’s mitzvot.

Thus, as it developed, the difference between Jewish attachment to the Land of Israel and other nationalisms is that the country of the Jewish people is a conditional gift, bestowed only on those who will use it in the service of the Creator and for the establishment of a righteous Torah society. The homeland is truly a Land of Promise. It is given to the Jewish people in return for their promise to do His will by observing the Torah. [emphasis in original]

Panel discussion among NCSYers 

In a section titled “Jewish Youth Discuss: Our Challenges After The Six-Day War” (p. 69), six NCSYers take part in a panel discussion moderated by Michael Rosenak in Jerusalem. Participating are Alan Bricker (South Africa), Marvin Cohen (United States), David Reinhertz (Israel), Solomon Lieberman (Sweden), Yitzchak Tepper (Uruguay), and Hedy Matyas (Sweden — and the only female representation on the panel). 

Rosenak opens with a question asking the panelists’ first impressions after the Six-Day War:

…Now, five months after the war, which are your conclusions? What do the events we have experienced ‘say’ to you? How do you think they have affected the Jewish people? What are the primary tasks that they have thrust upon us? 

Below are some excerpted answers, which describe a variety of reactions in Israel and the Jewish diaspora.

David Reinhertz (Israel):

“…I think today, Israeli youth has more confidence in itself. For the Jewish people as a whole, the whole war has proved again that our national and religious identity are one and the same.”

Solomon Lieberman (Sweden):

“…It is only since my arrival in Israel this fall that I have come to understand the true miracle of this victory. I have seen the superior Arab battle positions with my own eyes and I have heard first-hand accounts by soldiers of miraculous happenings. As a result of these happenings, Jews in Israel, even those who were formerly anti-religious, seem more favorably inclined toward religious attitudes. But this change is likely to be a temporary one, and we must take advantage of this transient change in attitude before it passes. This is the time to foster Jewish feelings, both national and religious, in the Diaspora and in Israel…”

Hedy Matyas (Sweden):

“The Jews in Sweden…don’t make the impression that they have been very shaken by the victory of Israel. In fact, they’ve already returned to their routine and petty worries.” 

On the newly occupied territories

Rosenak later asks a question about the newly captured territories in the Six-Day War (the West Bank, Gaza, Golan Heights, and Sinai Peninsula):

…What should be our attitude towards settling the “occupied” territories? Yitzchak has suggested that we should be the first to settle the territories. Do you agree that this is the leadership that religious Jewry should give, or do you think that for religious Jews there are other values of Judaism that have priority (e.g. the image of the Jew in the world, the possibility of gaining peace by compromise, etc.)?  

Yitzchak (Uruguay) reiterates his position, saying that there “is no question in my mind that we have the right to keep the new territories.” He cites the halakhic opinion of Sephardic Chief Rabbi Yitzhak Nissim, and claims that the real issue is finding new immigrants to populate the territories. He also dismisses concerns about the Arabs (“they have demanded total annihilation of ‘the intruder’ for the past twenty years. Now they request the return of their territories”) or world opinion (“we know that it is pliable” and regardless, it would have been useless if Israel had actually faced defeat in the war.)  

Marvin, the American panelist, expresses a pragmatic view in line with demographics. Of all the participants who answered this question, he is the only one who suggests land for peace:

Let me express a dissenting view. For me, the most important thing about this state is that it is a Jewish state, in terms of ideals and population both. If we retain the territories, we shall become a minority in our own country in a very short time. Thus our short-range prospects are for a cultural conflict between a Jewish minority engulfed by an Arab majority. And, in the long run, I fear that we shall see here the emergence of an “Israeli” rather than a Jewish society and culture. We may, you say, have gained the world and lost our souls. 

Alan (South Africa) disagrees with Marvin, saying that retaining the territories is “an economic and military necessity,” and specifically notes that returning the Golan Heights to Syria would be dangerous given how the Syrians used the Golan Heights militarily. Regarding settling the occupied territories:

“I look upon settlement of these areas as a mitzvah. The problem of justifying these measures is not really the problem. All fait accomplis justify themselves.”

David (Israel) stresses that keeping the territories will help in attracting olim and projecting a more powerful image internationally, attracting “real friendship” because “we [Israel] are a desirable ally.”  On the Arab population:

“Clearly we must be moral in our dealings with the Arab population, but that doesn’t mean we need neglect our own interests in dealing with them. Our interests too, as well as those of the Arabs, have moral weight.”

The American representative, Marvin, continues to explain his disagreements:

I think we are letting ourselves be carried away here. Just how “powerful” is this “Greater Israel” going to be, that everyone will clamor for its friendship? As powerful as the United States? As the Soviet Union? Frankly, I don’t think that countries will ever align themselves with Israel because of its power but because of its image, what it represents. And so it would be self-defeating for our national goals, as Jews, to maintain any but a “beyond censure” policy towards the Arabs.  

The rest of the discussion primarily focuses on methods for keeping immigrants in Israel, given the difficult adjustments many new immigrants have when moving to a still-developing country.

Discussion questions

The final section of the book has a large number of discussion prompts about issues of the day, ranging from issues of Jewish identity (concepts of chosenness, Jewish identity in exile), to Zionism (going on aliyah), to political issues in Israel (religion and state, Israeli international relations, new immigrant populations.)

Russian Jewish immigration to Israel?

On p. 96, there is a discussion prompt regarding the idea of Russian Jews (not described in the most respectful terms) settling the occupied territories:

It has been suggested that the problems of Russian Jewry and settlement of Israel’s newly conquered territories might both be solved if Russia’s Jews were allowed to come to Israel. What would be the impact of three million assimilated Jews in name only be on Israeli culture and society? 


Being Jewish in America vs. Israel

In the section “Can a Jew Really Be at Home in America?” (p. 90), the reader is asked if it is possible to feel “at home” in American society, even if they live in a religious Jewish neighborhood. But the reader is also asked to think of reasons why it might be more difficult to be a religious Jew in Israel. Example reasons include:

In Israel, there is no need to practice Torah Judaism in order to identify yourself as a Jew. Everyone is Jewish and your very citizenship identifies you.

(“Everyone is Jewish” and equating Jewishness with Israeli citizenship is ironic given the discussion of the Arab minority below — but of course plenty of people still do that in casual conversation today.)

And similarly:

If you are a Sabbath observing father in America and your son asks you why others are driving their cars, you can answer: “We are Jews.” What will the father tell his son in Israel?

Also in this section are questions which are still seen as fundamental today:

Is Israel a democracy or a Jewish state? Is there a difference? 

How are we to decide how Jewish Israel is to be?

Engaging with non-/anti-Zionist arguments

The education guide, while being avowedly Zionist, does not shy away from encouraging debate about non- and anti-Zionist ideas, at least to understand and defeat them.   

In the section “The Jews in Exile,” after discussion questions about why Russian Jews might have supported socialism (one suggestion was a subconscious Messianic yearning), a new proposed activity (p. 84):

CONDUCT A TRIAL of the Jew who insists we are a nation. Among the witnesses for the prosecution:

  1. The American Council for Judaism7
  2. The Internationalist Jew8
  3. The Egyptian delegate to the U.N.9

Another activity (p. 99) suggests not merely a student-led mock trial/debate, but actually inviting speakers to from Neturei Karta (religious anti-Zionist group) and Mizrachi (religious Zionist group):

INVITE a member of Neturai Karta (extreme Orthodox Jews in Jerusalem who do not ‘recognize’ the State of Israel) to discuss his stand with a member of the Mizrachi. Who is more consistent? Who is right?

Proposed engagement with anti-Zionist arguments — especially engaging directly with advocates of such positions — is out of the question in most American Jewish communities today. But the authors of Israel: Land of Promise seem confident that the NCSYers’ Zionist convictions are strong enough to withstand anti-Zionist critique (and indeed might be strengthened by it.)

It might be instructive to imagine which individuals and groups are similar in ideology today, and compare/contrast how they are treated by Jewish institutions. I hesitate to compare the Neturei Karta of today to those of 1968, since some members of Neturei Karta have more recently attended conferences alongside Holocaust deniers.10 But there are still, for example, Satmar Jews who espouse a religious anti-Zionism.

And today’s analogue of the Egyptian U.N. delegate could be, roughly speaking, a BDS activist leader who sees Israel as an illegitimate colonial entity. 

Finally, another section asks readers to examine the reactions of the Old Yishuv to newer Zionist settlement (p. 98):

READ the chapter on the settlement of Petach Tikva in Aliyah: the Peoples of Israel by Howard Sachar. (Why was the ‘old Yishuv’ in Jerusalem opposed to the idea of settlement?)

Discussing a binational state after the 1967 War 

In “Political and Moral Problems of the State of Israel,” there is a section on “The Arab Problem,” which reads as follows:  

Until the Six Day War, the Arab minority in Israel had been granted full political rights, including the right to vote and form their own political parties. In view of the large number of Arabs in the newly conquered territories, and their hostility, should they be granted the same political rights? In the early days of Zionism, the possibility of a bi-national state (Arab and Jewish) of Israel was raised and rejected. Would such a state be workable today?

Leaving aside the historical issues in the framing of the question,11 it is still quite striking to read this today, when suggesting a binational state is completely out of bounds in any mainstream Jewish institution (and generally equated with “denying Israel’s right to exist” or even “destroying Israel.”) Tracing how and when the boundaries of acceptable discourse changed is an endless source of fascination for me. 

Militarism in Israel

The following section, “Is Israel Too Militaristic,” asks teens to debate the practice of military parades on Israel’s Independence Day, a practice later discontinued in Israel due to financial concerns.12 It also asks about what seems like a forerunner to today’s Jerusalem Day flag parade:

What about a parade in the liberated sections of Jerusalem. [sic] Was it a political necessity, or just rubbing salt into Arab wounds?

At the time of publication (June 1968), parading through the Muslim Quarter could not have been characterized as an annual tradition. But today, the annual Yom Yerushalayim flag march has widespread participation among Religious Zionist youth every year, including American gap year students.13 While surely there are those who avoid participating, there seems to be little Religious Zionist opposition. 14


The ways in which the text both paralleled and deviated from contemporary conversation/education about Israel in American Jewish communities is fascinating. 

Some questions are still seen as relevant: how can a state be both Jewish and democraticWhat is the role of Judaism in the public sphere? How does Jewish life look different in the United States vs. Israel?

But some questions are no longer up for debate. A binational state is considered anti-Zionist, if not antisemitic, by mainstream American Jewish leaders. Directly engaging with anti-Zionists, even as people with whom to disagree, is similarly out of the question. And in Modern/Centrist Orthodox circles, where NCSY still operates, land for peace is seen as nothing more than a hypothetical proposal at this point. (Actively promoting a two-state solution and opposing settlement construction that conflicts with that goal is not a normative political stance.)

By cherry-picking certain examples, I don’t want to misconstrue the text — the worldview is very much in line with religiously motivated Zionism, specifically one that embraces a post-’67 messianism. 

But positions on certain questions that are dogma, or nearly so, in Religious Zionist circles today were as yet unresolved at the time this guide was published. And because not very much time had passed since Israel’s founding, the wider range of acceptable discourse on Zionism that characterized the pre-state/pre-WWII period can still be seen, in such a way that often appears progressive by today’s standards.

In the last several years I’ve watched (as an outside observer not professionally involved) the rollout of newer, more progressive Israel education curricula. And there are some genuine innovations, such as including events like the Nakba and deeper attention to Palestinian/Arab citizens of Israel. Certainly, Israel: Land of Promise doesn’t address such issues (it mentions “Arab refugees” once in passing) — though historical scholarship on the matter was stalled while Israeli archives remained sealed. 

But the idea that a more open discussion about Israel — including engagement with certain ideas that are are non-/anti-Zionist, or at least don’t support a “Jewish state” — is a radical departure from the past isn’t accurate. It’s certainly a departure from the past few decades, but examples like this (which are more common before 1967, and even more so before 1948) show that Jewish communal leaders placed value on conversation among Zionists who supported a Jewish nation-state, Zionists who supported something else that they still saw as fulfilling Jewish self-determination, and those who were non- or anti-Zionist.

Today, discussion of a binational state and inviting anti-Zionist Jews to speak does not happen in most American Jewish communities, sometimes as a matter of written policy.15 In some respects, the NCSYers of 1968 could have — with approval of their adult leaders — a more open discussion about Israel in their own Jewish community than most of today’s Hillel students could in theirs. 

And this wasn’t a publication written by the teenagers themselves! The only content from them was the symposium. This was what adults thought would be educationally valuable.

Every individual or institution who suggests — implicitly or explicitly — that non-/anti-Zionism and/or positions conflated with it (like supporting a binational state) are fundamentally objectionable should be pushed to explain, in light of the history of such voices being part of the larger conversation, why those ideas are fundamentally objectionable today. 

Because it matters that there were Zionist leaders who didn’t support a Jewish nation-state.16 And it matters that, even in 1968, NCSY thought some of these ideas were worth discussing.  What circumstances changed? If a two-state agreement now looks unworkable, why is it a grave offense to draw inspiration from pre-’48 sources in imagining an alternative? 

Not knowing the full breadth of ideological diversity that existed within the yishuv and Diaspora Jewish communities causes many people to assume that the current range of acceptable positions hasn’t changed. But it has, and recognizing that makes today’s discursive boundaries look a lot less tenable. Instead of arguing against such boundaries on the purely ideological basis of open discussion/debate, by pointing to historical precedents, one gains practical examples that can be useful in convincing others. How can an idea be inherently objectionable if it’s part of the mesorah?!

And by analogy — we don’t consider someone learned in halakha if they only read the Kitzur Shulchan Aruch. Ideally, they should read the relevant Gemara, Tosafot, Acharonim, etc. to see different approaches and minority opinions, why some were accepted and others rejected, and by whom. For some reason, it seems we don’t do this when teaching about Israel, especially when it comes to possible political arrangements for the Jews and Palestinians who live there. (And it goes without saying, that this is not even considering Palestinian voices, which should absolutely be studied as well.)    

There’s so much in here that I didn’t cover — I got insights from every article, and there are lots of excellent quotes that are too long to type here. But this is a small taste of what’s inside. If you have any specific questions about the contents or want to put in a request for a pdf, feel free to shoot me an email

How Not to Talk About the Israel-Palestine Conversation

Last week I read a piece in Tablet, “How to Talk About Israel and Palestine” by Carly Pildis. Having spent a good few years involved in this very issue (within largely American, college/university-based Jewish communities), I have what to say whenever anyone writes about it. 

I have a lot of disagreements with the piece, which I would mostly summarize as falling into two categories: presenting a simplified image of activists and ignoring the large power imbalance in the conflict. 

Here’s my own list (which I’ll limit to responses to what’s in Pildis’s article, though it’s not my exhaustive thoughts on the subject). 


1. Don’t make vague accusations of black-and-white thinking (particularly when your accused’s medium of communication is short on space)


Israel is a place, not a parable. It’s not a cartoon. It is neither a perfectly good nation nor an evil entity. It’s a country full of real people and their philosophies, politics, religious beliefs, ethnic backgrounds, and corresponding frictions.

I would be very happy if I never had to hear variations of “Israel isn’t perfectly good or completely evil” ever again. I have seen this in articles by Jewish leaders, hasbara how-to guides, and even a Yom Kippur sermon directed specifically at me.1 

From the language in the article, it seems that Pildis is addressing a certain strain of activists, both on the pro-Israel and pro-Palestine/anti-Occupation ends of the spectrum.

But very few people — even among activists — claim that either of these extremes is accurate. And yet it persists as a talking point, policing tone and sometimes content.

What I have heard is people level some harsh criticisms against Israel/the Israeli government,2 and then people get upset that they didn’t say anything nice about Israel to provide balance. Even if that would be completely irrelevant to the topic at hand. 

But it’s not just the non sequiturs. People have limited time (and in print, space) to explain the full depth of their opinion on a topic. Expecting an activist’s elevator pitch (or op-ed) to have your preferred level of nuance is usually unfair, especially if they’re coming from a different set of assumptions than you are. It might take hundreds of words to explain the complexity of the actual situation about which they’re advocating. 3

There are almost always real tradeoffs between length and nuance. No one expects a slogan on a protest sign to convey nuance. Tweets, social media posts, op-eds — these are all still relatively short-form media that are meant to stir conversation rather than be the final word. Read them with that in mind. 

2. View activists as a starting point for learning about unfamiliar issues — and then go to the experts for a deep dive

One of the most confusing aspects of Pildis’s article, which underpins almost the entire piece, is the assumption that people in this conversation are unreasonable and unwilling to engage with those too far outside their viewpoints. But there are plenty of thoughtful columnists and scholars out there with great intellectual contributions! It seems like Pildis is describing a certain type of activist, perhaps on social media. 

I understand that many people are turned off by activist rhetoric. But the activists, depending on their strategy, might not be out to convince you. Yes, really. They might be trying to rally their base, the people who already agree with them, rather than trying to convince you, on the fence (or on the other side of the fence.) Their time is not well-served by explaining every last detail of their position to you — they don’t see that as their role.4 

Having engaged in activism myself, while having a more thoughtful/careful personality (I certainly experienced some dissonance because of that!) — something I learned is that emotional appeals to your base of support are often the best strategy, especially when trying to accomplish something in a short amount of time. Times to do outreach are the slower times, when you’re not in the crunch time for a campaign. A consequence of this is that the crunch times are when you’re the most visible to the public…so the public might get an impression that you’re loud and unreasonable, because getting coffee with a curious person not yet 100% on board doesn’t make headlines.     

But even that outreach doesn’t usually involve political discussion of deep, substantive questions with people who already hold opposing viewpoints with any level of conviction. (Activist literature is typically targeted at people who aren’t engaged with the issue yet, who are low information but might be sympathetic.)

If you want to engage on a deeper intellectual level, you should go to the countless articulate thinkers who write articles/books, give lectures, and make podcasts that explain their perspectives at a slower pace, that patiently respond to counterarguments, that give more length and time for the details and nuance. 

3. Don’t accuse people of having a savior complex, or otherwise impugn motives — and remember that every side of an issue has advocates with a range of knowledge. 

[D]iaspora communities affected by the conflict are also real people, with real feelings, history, and family involved. They don’t owe you their  thoughts or feelings on a deeply personal and painful subject on demand to be dissected and debated by colleagues, friends, and acquaintances with no skin in the game.

Very few people who devote significant time to an issue truly have “no skin in the game.” 

Many American Jews were raised to view themselves as having plenty of skin in the game, and beyond that, the overwhelming majority of our shuls and communal institutions claim to support Israel in some way or another (and often do financially). 

I stay involved in the issue because I have dear friends who live in Israel-Palestine. Others have family there. Some American Jews have Israeli citizenship through one or both parents, and some Palestinian Americans are unable to visit their family members in Palestine because Israel will not let them in. All of these people have networks of friends and family who may or may not be Israeli or Palestinian themselves. Others, including Christians and Muslims, might feel a religious connection to the land and the people who live there. Gatekeeping on an issue — unless you have solid evidence of malicious intent — doesn’t help anyone.

Pildis opens the article by describing her friend, whom she met for coffee.

She is neither Jewish nor Palestinian; she’s never visited the region and speaks neither Hebrew nor Arabic. Yet she is very passionate about this topic. She wanted to talk about ending the occupation, about human rights and about—in her words—saving Palestine. … I asked her a question: Had she ever actually met an Israeli? Had she ever met a Palestinian?  Embarrassed she replied, no, not once.

There are people who don’t have the same level of knowledge as you do, but still have strong opinions. While this can be annoying on a personal level, it’s important to remember that everyone getting involved in an issue starts somewhere. 5

People can come to the correct conclusions for the wrong reasons. That’s why you should always seek out multiple perspectives, finding the most knowledgeable and articulate advocates of different positions. It’s easy for me to laugh at the stupid hasbaraniks repeating their talking points. But I also cringe when an anti-Occupation activist says something blatantly incorrect, because I worry that someone will seize on it and make an example of them. 

Beyond the dividing line of actually living in Israel-Palestine (I say living in because lots of people have Israeli citizenship who haven’t lived in Israel in many years, or have never lived in Israel at all), the amount of gatekeeping that can be done on this issue is almost endless. While I might be curious as to why any random person might be interested in Israel-Palestine, I think the American government provides enough military assistance to Israel, and politicians talk about it enough, that any American has reason to hold an opinion regardless of why the topic interests them.    

4. People who support a single democratic state should be part of the conversation

She pushed some radical solutions, far outside the mainstream of pro-peace groups…

Pildis doesn’t specify what these “radical solutions” were, but assuming that her friend didn’t advocate for Israeli Jews going back to Europe or otherwise leaving Israel (that would be objectionable), I assume that she was referring to a single democratic state in Israel and the Palestinian territories. 

Even though political leaders still almost exclusively endorse two states, I don’t think it’s fair to characterize a single democratic state as radical. There is growing popular support among Palestinians,6 particularly the younger generation, for this arrangement. Why is a proposal with that level of support among a key demographic written off as radical? 

And for some reason, many in the pro-Israel camp seem to forget that there were prominent pre-state Zionists who supported a binational state, and while they were a minority, we don’t look back at them as “radicals” who rejected Jewish self-determination. Situations on the ground and feasibility of political arrangements change, and with a two-state agreement looking dead, no one should be categorically ruling out proposals that attempt to protect everyone’s basic civil and political rights, even if we think they might not work for any number of reasons. 

5. Don’t make the debate out to be more hostile than it is 

Muslim-Jewish relations and global Palestinian-Jewish relations are too often inflamed by saviorist, colonialist rhetoric which anoints one true narrative over the many tangled stories that make up the region. You must be either pro-Israel or pro-Palestine, and once you pick a side, you must prove your fevered devotion by never allowing for dialogue, nuance or any chance at peace. This happens because this zero-sum dynamic is not actually about Israel or Palestine or the region at all: It is about our own need for edification and glory. 

This rhetoric, making the Israel-Palestine conversation out to be irredeemably hostile (usually by focusing on the most charged/sensationalist situations), serves the interests of those trying to shut out more harshly critical views of Israel from Jewish institutions. 

I’m not saying this is intentional, but it has that effect. It’s easier to point fingers at more “controversial” activist speakers/groups, since there’s a pre-existing narrative that what they have to say will lack nuance or even be hostile towards well-meaning audience members. (If that’s the case, why should we spend money to invite them to speak?)

One of the most striking things about the Israel conversation within American Jewish communities, as I’ve experienced and heard from others repeatedly, is not only the misconceptions people have about [insert group outside the communal norms], but also the amount of fear that people have about engaging with others on this issue — even those within their own community. When we characterize exposure to challenging viewpoints as being inherently inflammatory, or participants in the debate as motivated by self-aggrandizement rather than genuine moral conviction, we only increase fear and avoidance among those who want to learn more, but worry that they will be attacked for asking certain questions.  

And while I don’t discount others’ experiences, in the context of asking panelists questions, I have personally felt like my good-faith questions have been met with good-faith answers. (People who are rude to audience members don’t tend to do well on the speaking circuit.) 

6. Sometimes affinity is affectedness

Some racial justice groups have expressed a feeling of kinship to the Palestinian cause. Some religious Christian groups express an affinity and a feeling of closeness with Israel. While building bridges with others is laudable, we should all be circumspect about tying affinity to affectedness.

Pildis gives examples of Christian evangelical solidarity with Israel and Black-Palestinian solidarity as examples where people should be careful about “tying affinity to affectedness.” 7

But this is a false equivalency: Christian evangelical support for Israel is primarily one-sided — evangelical Christians are supporting Israel (or the Israeli Right, often the settler movement specifically), but I’m not aware of a pattern of Israeli figures reciprocating by supporting evangelical-specific causes in the United States. The closest reciprocity is Netanyahu supporting Trump (maybe that counts for something, but that probably would be happening regardless.)

Evangelical Christian support for Israel is also not based on common issues facing evangelical Christians and Israelis. Evangelical Christians support Israel based on religious conviction, and Israelis…think that’s nice (if a little weird.)

Black-Palestinian solidarity is very different — it’s reciprocal (to the extent that it can be given that Palestinians often face greater travel restrictions in traveling to the US than vice versa) and based on similar issues that both communities face. Palestinians were communicating with black protesters in Ferguson about how to handle tear gas, since the Israeli army and American police officers were using the same types of tear gas canisters. It’s more than seeing yourself in other groups. It’s about sharing organizing strategies to combat similar challenges. 

Some of the article’s recommendations fell flat because they were based on certain political (centrist Zionist/pro-Israel) premises.

In the past, when trying to convince others of the utility of allowing a more diverse range of viewpoints in communal institutions, I’ve tried to avoid explicit political discussion — focusing on finding a common language with interlocutors who don’t necessarily share my own views on Israel. 

But I’m not sure this was always a good idea. Certain arguments in this article (that I’ve also seen elsewhere) advocate a sort of disengagement based on not living in Israel. But that doesn’t make sense if you see your own community and government as being implicated.

7. American Jewish anti-Occupation activists are here to stay. That’s because we believe that there is a power imbalance in the conflict in favor of Israel, Israel systematically oppresses Palestinians, and most American Jewish institutions are complicit. 

This is the biggest disconnect as I see it between people with whom I generally agree and people with whom I hit a wall and have to dial back and start discussing more fundamental issues. 

What happens when people don’t recognize this reality is that they write sentences like this:

Ultimately, it comes down to one very simple rule: Israelis and Palestinians need to solve the conflict.

[T]his conflict isn’t about us. 

For people in my political camp, the huge power differential between Israelis and Palestinians means that Israel and Palestine cannot just work things out between themselves. This isn’t a conflict that will be solved by more dialogue. (Dialogue is nice on a person-to-person level for those who want to experience it, but it will not solve the core issues.) International pressure might help. And in the United States, undoing the assumption that the Israeli government represents Jewish interests — helping our elected representatives understand that they won’t lose our vote if they vote for a bill condemning Israel’s child imprisonment practices, for example, is one step in that process.  

And this conflict is about us, at least to some extent — it’s about us as Americans, when our government enables Israeli policies that violate human rights. And it’s also about us as Jews, particularly if we interact with mainstream communal institutions (denominationally affiliated shuls, Hillels, federations) who fund projects in Israeli settlements, or at the very least promote hasbara talking points among our own communities. Many of us also feel implicated when the Israeli government claims to speak for us and represent us, even as we wish that were not the case. 

8. Don’t patronize Palestinians, and don’t call international activists patronizing for listening to them

[Palestinians] have agencies and form complex alliances and hold diverse opinions and don’t need some American academic, well meaning as she may be, to swoop in and save them from themselves.

But, nu, Palestinian civil society did ask that American academic to boycott Israeli institutions? I can only assume that Pildis is speaking about a hypothetical BDS-supporting professor. 

It’s quite striking how perverse this is. Not only is Pildis blatantly not listening to Palestinians, but she then implies that someone supporting a Palestinian-led movement has a white savior complex.

It’s almost like she should take her own advice:

[L]isten to the voices on the ground and come to their aid when asked, even if the ask doesn’t fit some overall grand narrative you have in your head.