Features
Return to Ukraine: searching out the Rosner family past
Introduction: Not too long ago we were contacted by former CBC Manitoba managing editor Cecil Rosner, who asked us whether we’d be interested in publishing a story about a trip he took in 2012 to visit the area in Ukraine where both his parents were born. Although it’s been 10 years since Cecil visited Ukraine, given the current situation in that country we thought it timely to get a sense of what life was like in Ukraine prior to the Russian invasion.
By CECIL ROSNER ““Oi — look at the way the schlemiel drives.”
We are bouncing along the potholed roads of Western Ukraine, heading from Lviv to my mother’s hometown of Buczacz. Our driver and guide isn’t Jewish, but that doesn’t stop him from endlessly whistling Fiddler on the Roof tunes and inserting Yiddishisms into every second phrase.
“These guys are all ganefs (thieves),” he says of the policemen we pass, as he forms his thumb and forefinger into a pistol and slowly pulls the trigger. Alex doesn’t like the speed traps the highway patrols set up, and he appreciates oncoming drivers signalling him to beware of cops just beyond the next hill. It’s an important issue for our driver, who crisscrosses Ukraine’s roads all year-long, ferrying tourists to distant towns and villages in search of their Jewish ancestors.
For Alex, who holds a history degree and is an expert at tracing genealogical roots, it’s an occupation he never dreamed he would have. But in the chaos of the Soviet Union’s collapse, when jobs were evaporating and everyone was trying to reimagine their lives, it seemed like a useful niche to pursue – especially as foreigners were finally trying to discover exactly what had happened to their relatives during the Second World War.
That’s why I’m here too, along with my wife and a cousin. Both of my parents were born in the region, and both were here when the Nazis occupied the area in 1941. In different improbable and miraculous ways, they both survived the war and emigrated to Canada. But every single other family member was shot, gassed, beaten or starved to death by the Nazis and their collaborators. We came here to see what traces of their lives remained.
It seemed logical to make our first stop the local museum, right across from the old city hall. Buczacz is little more than a village, with about 13,000 people. In the early part of the 19th century, Jews made up two-thirds of the population. While that number ebbed and flowed over the years, Jews were still in the majority when the Nazi occupation began. But that would have been difficult to discern in the museum.
In all the display cases, and in the colourful photo album that the town produces, there is no specific mention of a Jewish population. There is scarcely any reference to the Second World War, except for a notation that the town “was released from German invaders and captured by the Soviet Union.” Wouldn’t a town’s museum want to address what became of the majority of the population? What happened to thousands of farmers, shop owners, tailors, tinsmiths, doctors, lawyers and politicians? Doesn’t the mass roundup and extermination of most people in town even rate a mention?
The only hint of any Jewish presence came in the form of artifacts from the life of Shmuel Agnon, a Jewish writer born in Buczacz who won the Nobel Prize for literature. But the entire fate of the people Agnon wrote about had been erased.
Alex had little luck getting the museum’s employee to throw any light on what the town was like in the immediate pre-war period. She genuinely seemed not to know. But there were a few things I already knew.
My mother, Mina, had been born here in 1913, and her family owned a wholesale distribution company. They carbonated water and stored it in big, forty-litre copper cylinders, shipping them along with ice to shops throughout the area. When she was 25, she married my father, Michael Rosner, who came from nearby Kolomaya. In 1939, they opened a small retail store on the main town square, probably within metres of the present-day museum.
When the war broke out in September 1939, there was a reprieve. The region came under the control of the Soviets, and Jews were under no immediate threat. All that changed when Hitler marched eastward in 1941. My father was conscripted by the retreating Soviets, and my mother was trapped behind Nazi lines for the remainder of the war.
For the next three years, every member of my mother’s family – her parents, five brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles and cousins – were dragged from their hiding places, bludgeoned or shot, or sent off to be executed. They were all dumped into unmarked graves. My parents’ first-born child – my brother – also fell victim, dying at the age of three in 1942.
My mother’s survival defied any normal odds. She fled from one hiding place to another, escaping just in time to avoid capture. She spent 11 months in the attic of a Polish family along with five other Jews. She took an assumed name and boldly convinced the Nazis she was Christian. Finally, after Buczacz was liberated, she re-united with my father and they came to Canada to start anew in 1948.
I had been to Buczacz once before, with my mother, in 1990. We came with a documentary crew to record her first visit back home since the war. It was an emotional trip and a difficult one for both of us. But we learned very little of the actual events that had transpired in the town, or the exact locations where they happened. That’s why, nearly 15 years after my mother’s death, I was returning for a second time.
I convinced Alex that our best strategy on this trip would be to find older people and ask them what they knew about the 30s and 40s. Alex seemed skeptical. For one thing, the war had begun more than 70 years ago, so it was unlikely there would be any useful first-hand witnesses at hand. And there was also the collective amnesia that pertained to inconvenient truths.
After all, a segment of the population had actively collaborated with Hitler. They were instrumental in helping identify and round up the Jews, the Communists, and all the other elements the Nazis wanted to destroy. Some might still be living in Buczacz and surrounding areas. Their children and grandchildren almost certainly are here.
The museum’s employee finally gives us a sliver of hope. There is someone in town we should visit – someone who knows the history and might be able to help us. His name is Mykola.
We drive for a few minutes and stop at Mykola’s house. I am expecting to find an elderly man who may have been a teenager during the war. Instead, we come upon a 40-something man in sweatpants and a Maple Leafs T-shirt. He is clutching a handful of papers and photographs. One of them shows a photo of Buczacz’s surviving Jews standing beside a memorial gravestone in 1944. Out of the original population of 10,000, no more than 100 survived. One of the people in the photo is my mother.
Mykola has taken an interest in wartime history, and now helps visiting tourists locate family remnants. He has a variety of interesting documents, including a map of pre-war street names, and a mid-19th century register of townsfolk. It turns out that he knows about some of the Jewish families that lived in Buczacz during the war – a handful of them have returned over the years, and he has helped them find their old homes and landmarks.
We ask Mykola if he could help solve a puzzle my mother and I couldn’t figure out on our previous trip. Her family had lived on a street called Zeblickevicie, which had changed names several times after the war. From her description, though, we knew it was beside a stream that ran into the Strypa River, a subsidiary of the Dniester.
We pile into the car along with Mykola and he directs us to the location. The stream had been covered over, except at the point where it emptied into the Strypa. Though the original home was no longer there, he shows us the exact location where my mother’s family had lived. I saw the idyllic surroundings, the lush vegetation around the quiet river, and for the first time I had an inkling of the peaceful life my mother experienced before the war changed everything.
While we were all walking along the old Zeblickevicie street, Mykola bumps into a friend and exchanges a few words with him. As we walk on, the friend stops my wife, Harriet, and our cousin Nina and says: “Mina Rosner – I am a Witness.” That is the name of my mother’s book. Alex is impatient. He had rich experience of locals trying to pester visitors, and he was eager to move us all along. But Harriet and Nina persist. It turns out the man on our chance encounter knows all about my mother’s story, and offers to take us on a tour of where she lived, where she went to school, where she hid during the war, and where her family members were killed.
Over the next 24 hours, Alex grudgingly admits he was wrong. Our serendipitous encounter has linked us up with Jura, a 60-year-old retired computer technician, astrologist and local historian. He knows my mother’s exact birthdate, and, it appears, everyone else’s in town. He has a photocopied version of my mother’s book, and he has pieced together her recollections with precise locations of many of the events she describes. If photographic memories actually exist, we figure he has one. He is a visiting tourist’s dream come true, and Alex has to take a back seat while Jura takes us on a remarkable tour of my mother’s life.
The first stop is just around the corner, on a street that used to be called Chechego Maya. I remember it from my mother’s stories, but we could never pinpoint it on our previous trip. Jura shows us the building where my mother’s sister and her husband ran a hardware shop. He knows the address because it’s listed in trade publications of the era. Though my mother’s original house and her parents’ store no longer existed, I finally had an authentic touchstone of some of her family’s life at the time.
Jura takes us to the pre-war building on Kolejowa Street that served as the cheder, the religious school, where Jewish kids studied. We visit the girls’ school and middle school where my mother was a student, and walk into Buczacz’s Sokol theatre, where she watched dramatic performances and movies as a teenager. A group of children is rehearsing a musical concert on stage, and I can imagine my mother sitting in the auditorium with her brothers and sisters and friends.
Just down the road, near an orchard, Jura shows us the garden of a long-ago demolished home where my mother hid during one of the Nazi aktions, or periodic killing sprees. A bunker had been constructed in the cellar, and this helped shield her and other Jews from capture. The Nazis conducted four major aktions during their occupation of Buczacz before declaring the town Judenrein, or completely free of Jews. But the declaration turned out to be false. My mother, along with dozens of others, managed to survive with the aid of courageous gentile families who risked their safety to shelter them.
In the middle of our travels, Jura pulls out a sheet of typewritten names – people who had served as policemen, gendarmes and SS officers during the war. I recognize some of the names. Some of the Nazi war criminals and their collaborators have been brought to justice, but the vast majority remain undetected and untried for their crimes.
We go to the Jewish cemetery, where many of the town’s Jews – including my mother’s parents – were taken to be executed. The place is untended and overgrown, a jumble of brush and junk, with headstones in various states of disrepair. We find my great-grandmother’s grave. It’s significant, because two plots over my mother buried her first-born child, Isaac, in an unmarked plot. I clear away the branches and debris from the group of headstones in the area to get a better view. I bend down and touch the ground where the brother I never met is buried. Exactly 70 years later, someone has come back to this place to remember.
Jura takes me down a path through brambles to a spot where survivors had erected a memorial to the war’s victims. The place is overgrown with trees and bushes now, but he says there was nothing here before the war. The marker no longer survives, and even if it did, it’s unlikely anyone would be able to find it without an expert guide.
Our next stop is Fedor Hill, another killing ground where thousands perished. It’s difficult to see traces of anything here, but Jura once again guides us to a marker commemorating the killing of 450 people during the early days of slaughter in 1941. It had been erected by a survivor’s family well after the war.
A far more prominent memorial on Fedor Hill is dedicated to the UPA, the Ukrainian Insurgent Army, the military wing of a movement that initially collaborated with the Nazis in hopes of winning an independent homeland. In fact, throughout our travels in Western Ukraine, there were numerous new memorials to Ukrainian nationalist fighters in places where it might have been logical to place markers noting the victims of the Nazi era. We saw this on the side of a synagogue in Ivano-Frankivsk, near the Jewish ghetto entrance in Lvov, and many other places. In my father’s hometown of Kolomyia, it was a similar story — no mention of Jews or Nazi victims in the local museum, no remnants of the huge Jewish population, and a patriotic memorial to Ukrainian nationalist figures on the site of a former synagogue. In the re-written history of today, the UPA and its related Organization of Ukrainian Nationalists are presented as groups that fought both Soviets and Nazis; no mention is made of the collaboration in 1941 that led to so much destruction during the war.
Throughout our trip to Ukraine, we were reminded of the upcoming election campaign and the ever-present imagery of Ukrainian nationalism, especially in the Western part of the country. In a land that was exercising its brand of democratic activity, we had to wonder how thoroughly the country had come to grips with its recent history. Many countries are wrestling with related questions, trying to reconcile horrendous events of the past with a way forward. But as in any process or truth and reconciliation, there needs to be an initial recognition of what took place. Erasing and denying the past is rarely the path to building a healthy future.
At the end of our tour in Buczacz, Jura wanted to know the exact date of my mother’s death. He also was interested in our birthdates and any other information he could glean from us. In a country that chooses to forget so much, he was something of an anomaly.
Features
CAD Performance in 2025: Key Factors Behind Its Recovery
The CAD is clawing back lost ground. Discover what pushed the loonie down in 2024, what’s lifting it in 2025, and why its future still hangs in the balance.
2024 was a strange year for the loonie. If you are an active currency trader, a quick look at a CAD/USD price chart would have you nodding in agreement. Yes, the year started off strong, but as the months rolled by, it was obvious that something was wrong, especially as we neared the end of Q3. The reason for the downtrend was clear. Most people agreed that it was the tariff threats from Washington, rate cuts at home, and a volatile global economy that were being reflected in the currency markets. And for a while, the CAD was stuck in that losing streak, with some experts even suggesting that there was still more to come.
As the new year rolled around, it didn’t seem like anything had changed. But by mid-2025, quiet shifts had turned into a noticeable recovery, with the loonie gaining back significant ground against the greenback. So, in this piece, we’ll break down what really dragged the Canadian dollar lower in 2024, what’s fueling its recovery this year, and whether this rebound is going to hold steady.
Understanding What Happened in 2024
At the start of the year (2024), one U.S. dollar traded for about 1.35 CAD, which translates to one Canadian dollar being valued at roughly 74 cents U.S. It wasn’t anything special at the time, especially after the levels of inflation and volatility of 2023. Still, economists noted that these were the few key factors that kept the loonie afloat early in the year:
- The price of oil made a comeback. Crude prices firmed up early in the year, supporting Canada’s export earnings and adding a tailwind to the currency.
- Employment figures were solid. Job growth held up, and steady wage gains helped offset the pressure of higher borrowing costs.
- The BoC held a steady interest rate. After an aggressive round of rate hikes in 2023, policymakers looked ready to pause and let the economy cool gradually.
All of these factors were thought to have helped build confidence in the Canadian economy and by mid-2024, the loonie had edged up toward 76-77 cents U.S.
Late-Year Turbulence
Not a lot of people saw it, but as Q2 2024 unfolded, the CAD started to look unattractive to currency market investors. How? Well, it started when the Bank of Canada (BoC) started to signal its intention to cut interest rates. It gave its clearest sign to this on April 10, 2024 when the bank highlighted that inflation was slowing down and it was leaving the door open for rate cuts. This announcement changed market expectations almost overnight.
Eventually, the first cut came on June 5, 2024. The BoC lowered its benchmark rate by 25 basis points from 5% to 4.75%, becoming the first major G7 central bank to start easing.
From there, the pace picked up with rates being reduced four more times. The market’s reactions to these cuts were immediate. And any currency trader with a reliable forex trading app saw each one unfold live. The CAD began to lose altitude as the yield gap with the U.S. widened. With lower returns on Canadian assets, investors favored the greenback. Adding to the pressure, the Trump campaign’s 25% tariff threat in September ignited the fears of a trade war. Which led to traders quickly pricing in potential hits to exports and investment, sending sentiment lower.
The 2025 Comeback
The CAD started 2025 trading at around 67 cents U.S., with some days even seeing it flirt with the 66-cent mark. So, it was a common assumption in the currency traders’ community that 2024 might repeat itself. But something was different this time. Every day, the loonie was quietly clawing back much of the ground it lost during the previous year’s slump.
So, what was different this time? Well, experts believe the panic that gripped both retail and institutional traders through late 2024 began to fade. As positive economic data started to filter in, confidence slowly returned alongside a few key drivers. By midyear, analysts were already talking about a turnaround rather than just a recovery attempt. The CAD was trading in the 72-73-cent U.S. range, up solidly from its January lows, and here’s its current rate.
Major Factors Behind the CAD’s Recovery
So, what helped the CAD? Well, there were a few clear factors that came together to turn sentiment around and put the loonie back on steadier footing.
- U.S. Dollar Weakness
A softer U.S. dollar was one of the clearest tailwinds for the CAD in 2025. The weakening of the USD started occurring when investors started to pull back from U.S. assets as political tension, fiscal worries, and softer economic data piled up.
What drove it?
- Trade and political uncertainty: Tariff moves and Washington infighting rattled investor confidence.
- Fiscal strain: Deficit concerns eroded trust in U.S. financial stability.
- Fed policy shifts: With the Federal Reserve showing interest in cutting rates (and actually doing so on September 16), the yield advantage that once favored the dollar began to fade.
As investors reduced exposure to U.S. assets, capital rotated into other major currencies. The CAD, being liquid and commodity-linked, was one of the key beneficiaries, strengthening almost by default as the greenback lost ground.
- Diverging Monetary Policy
Monetary policy divergence became another major driver. The Bank of Canada held its policy rate steady near 2.75% through Q2 2025 before cutting in September, signaling confidence that inflation was cooling without stalling growth. Meanwhile, the U.S. Federal Reserve began easing monetary policy with its first rate cut in September 2025, responding to slowing growth and softer inflation. This divergence in pace and tone helped support the Canadian dollar’s rebound.
This narrowing interest rate gap mattered. And with Canada offering relatively higher yields, foreign investors found the loonie more attractive, especially compared to the softening U.S. dollar. For traders, the CAD started to look like a better carry trade than it had in over a year.
- Easing Tariff Fears
Another major psychological lift came from the fading of tariff risks. In the first half of 2025, Trump’s proposed 25% tariffs on Canadian goods lost traction as political attention shifted elsewhere. While some concerns still lingered, the immediate threat of a trade shock began to ease. Cross-border trade flows regained a bit of momentum, and markets started to price in a smoother path for Canadian exports. That renewed confidence played a key role in supporting the loonie’s recovery.
Can the Loonie Hold Its Ground?
As 2025 moves forward, the consensus among analysts is cautious but constructive. Most expect the Canadian dollar to trade in the 1.33-1.36 range against the U.S. dollar, a level that points to stability. The worst of 2024’s volatility seems to be behind it, but the loonie’s next moves will still depend on how the global story unfolds.
A Currency That Refused to Stay Down
The past two years have been anything but smooth for the CAD, but this move has proven one thing: resilience runs deep. After weathering policy shifts, tariff scares, and market pessimism, the loonie has managed to rebuild its footing in 2025. Its recovery hasn’t been dramatic. It was grounded in solid fundamentals and steady confidence. For traders, that’s a reminder that sentiment can turn just as fast as it fades.
Features
Statistical Volatility Models in Slot Mechanics: Extended Expert Analysis Informed by Pistolo Casino
Analytical reviews of slot volatility often reference ecosystems similar to those found at Pistolo casino. Within the gambling research community, volatility is understood not as a marketing attribute, but as a technical framework that shapes how digital slot systems distribute outcomes over time. Expanding on earlier overviews, this extended analysis examines the deeper mathematical logic behind volatility classes, as well as their implications for long-term behavioural modelling.
Volatility as a Mathematical Architecture
Slot volatility is commonly divided into high-, medium-, and low-risk models, yet this simplified categorisation hides the structural complexity underneath. Developers configure several layers of probability weighting, which include:
- Event Density Layers – Each slot contains multiple weighted segments representing minor, medium, and rare outcomes.
- Return Frequency Curves – These curves dictate how the distribution of payouts drifts around the long-term equilibrium.
- Reel Weighting Matrices – Symbol appearance probability is shaped not only by frequency but also by conditional dependencies within each reel strip.
Research drawing on examples parallel to Pistolo casino shows that modern slots increasingly use modular probability blocks, making outcome variance more flexible and more precisely adjustable during development.
Behavioural Interpretation of Volatility Signals
From a player analytics perspective, volatility modelling helps identify how different user groups respond to varying risk structures. High-volatility mechanics frequently attract users who seek extended tension cycles and the possibility of occasional strong outcomes, while low-volatility systems are associated with steady-state gameplay and longer average session times.
Analysts also examine “volatility fatigue,” a concept describing the moment when prolonged dry cycles reduce engagement. By tracking these patterns, researchers can map how changes in event spacing affect decision-making, bet sizing, and persistence.
Simulation Methodology for Evaluating Volatility Accuracy
Technical audits rely heavily on large-scale simulations—sometimes exceeding fifty million iterations — to verify that the modelled volatility aligns with theoretical expectations. Key indicators include:
- Hit rate stability across long sequences
- Distribution symmetry, ensuring outcomes do not drift into accidental bias
- Deviation corridors, which define acceptable ranges for short-term anomalies
- Return-to-player convergence, showing whether the model equilibrates over time
When discrepancies appear, developers may adjust symbol weighting, probability intervals, or feature-trigger frequency until the system reaches internal balance consistent with regulatory and mathematical demands.
Volatility’s Role in Market Diversity
Volatility modelling helps explain the substantial variety between slot titles. Instead of relying solely on themes or graphics, modern game design differentiates titles by emotional rhythm and progression speed. This technical approach has led to more deliberate pacing structures where reward cycles, anticipation building, and event clustering are calibrated through mathematical systems rather than subjective intuition.
Conclusion
Volatility remains one of the most precise and data-driven components of slot design. Its study provides insight into outcome diversity, behavioural responses, and long-term predictability. Research frameworks referencing platforms comparable to Pistolo Casino highlight how volatility models shape modern gambling environments through measurable probability engineering and large-scale simulation.
Features
Bias in America’s Colleges Produced Modern Anti-Zionism
By HENRY SREBRNIK Jon A. Shields, Yuval Avnur, and Stephanie Muravchik, professors at the Claremont Colleges in California, have just completed a study, “Closed Classrooms? An Analysis of College Syllabi on Contentious Issues,” published July 10, 2025, that draws on a database of millions of college syllabi to explore how professors teach three of the most contentious topics: racial bias in the criminal justice system, the Israel-Palestine conflict, and the ethics of abortion.
They used a unique database of college syllabi collected by the “Open Syllabus Project” (OSP). The OSP has amassed millions of syllabi from around the world primarily by scraping them from university websites. They date as far back as 2008, though a majority are from the last ten years. Most of the data comes from universities in the United States, Britain, Canada, and Australia.
“Since all these issues sharply divide scholars, we wanted to know whether students were expected to read a wide or narrow range of perspectives on them. We wondered how well professors are introducing students to the moral and political controversies that divide intellectuals and roil our democracy. Not well, as it turns out.”
In the summary of their findings, “Professors Need to Diversify What They Teach,” they report that they found a total lack of ideological diversity. “Across each issue we found that the academic norm is to shield students from some of our most important disagreements.”
Teaching of Israel and Palestine is, perhaps no surprise, totally lopsided, and we’ve seen the consequences since October 7, 2023. Staunchly anti-Zionist texts — those that question the moral legitimacy of the Israeli state — are commonly assigned. Rashid Khalidi, the retired professor of Modern Arab Studies at Columbia, is the most popular author on this topic in the database. A Palestinian American and adviser to the Palestine Liberation Organization delegation in the 1990s, Khalidi places the blame on Israel for failing to resolve the conflict and sees the country’s existence as a consequence of settler-colonialism.
The problem is not the teaching of Khalidi itself, as some on the American right might insist. To the contrary, it is important for students to encounter voices like Khalidi’s. The problem is who he is usually taught with. Generally, Khalidi is taught with other critics of Israel, such as Charles D. Smith, Ilan Pappé, and James Gelvin.
Not only is Khalidi’s work rarely assigned alongside prominent critics, those critics seem to hardly get taught at all. They include Israel: A Concise History of a Nation Reborn by Daniel Gordis, a professor at Shalem College in Israel. Gordis’s book appears only 22 times in the syllabus database. Another example is the work of Efraim Karsh, a prominent historian. His widely cited classic, Fabricating Israeli History, appears just 24 times.
For most students, though, any exposure to the conflict begins and ends with Edward Said’s Orientalism, first published in 1978. Said is the intellectual godfather of so many of today’s scholars of the Middle East, thanks in no small part to this classic book. Said was a Palestinian-American academic, literary critic, and political activist from a prominent Christian family. Educated at Princeton and Harvard Universities, two of America’s most distinguished centres of higher learning, he taught at Columbia University, another Ivy League institution, until his death in 2003.
Said was no crude antisemite. His writings were aimed at academics and intellectuals and he has, in my opinion, done more damage to the Jewish people than anyone else after 1945. Said claimed to be the first scholar to “culturally and politically” identify “wholeheartedly with the Arabs.” But he was also a political activist for the Palestinian movement opposing the existence of Israel.
Said warned PLO leader Yasir Arafat that if the conflict remained local, they’d lose. Join “the universal political struggle against colonialism and imperialism,” with the Palestinians as freedom fighters paralleling “Vietnam, Algeria, Cuba, and black Africa,” he advised.
(In this he was not the first, though. Fayez Sayegh, a Syrian intellectual who departed for the United States and completed his Ph.D. at Georgetown University in 1949, preceded him. Also an academic, his 1965 monograph Zionist Colonialism in Palestine stands as the first intellectual articulation of Zionism as a settler colonial enterprise, arguing that the analytical frameworks applied to Vietnam and Algeria apply equally to Palestine. The treatise situated Zionism within European colonialism while presenting it as uniquely pernicious.)
Israel’s post–Six-Day War territorial expansion helped Said frame Israel as “an occupying power” in a 1979 manifesto titled The Question of Palestine. Alleging racial discrimination as the key motive was a means of transforming the “Zionist settler in Palestine” into an analogue of “white settlers in Africa.” That charge gained traction in a post-Sixties universe of civil rights, anti-imperialism, anti-colonialism, and Western self-abnegation. The work sought to turn the tables on the prevailing American understanding of Israel: It is not, in fact, an outpost of liberal democracy or refuge from antisemitism, but an instrument of white supremacy.
Orientalism popularized a framework through which today’s advocates on behalf of Palestinians understand their struggle against the state of Israel and the West generally. Said casts the Western world as the villains of history and peoples of the East as its noble victims.
The essence of the book, Said concluded, is the “ineradicable distinction between Western superiority and Oriental inferiority.” It falsely affirms “an absolute and systematic difference between the West, which is rational, developed, humane, superior, and the Orient, which is aberrant, undeveloped, inferior.”
So it was impossible to take Zionism seriously as one among the myriad nationalist movements that emerged in the nineteenth century, much less to see Israel itself as a land of refugees or the ancestral homeland of Jews. And, indeed, Said’s Orientalism singles out Israel for special rebuke, suggesting that the state could be justified only if one accepted the xenophobic ideology at the core of Western civilization. Israel’s defenders, particularly those who lament the lack of democracy in the Middle East and fault Arabs for their militancy, represent the “culmination of Orientalism.”
Said is widely acknowledged as the godfather of the emerging field of postcolonial studies, and his views have profoundly shaped the study of the Middle East. Said also inspired – and in some cases directly mentored – a generation of anti-Zionist U.S. scholars whose dominance in the academic study of the area is unquestionable today.
The political left that emerged trained itself to read every conflict as the aftershock of colonialism. The ideological narrative of oppression and resistance allowed even the jihadist to become a post-colonial rebel.
It’s hard to overstate the academic influence of Orientalism. The authors note that “As of this writing, it has been cited nearly 90 thousand times. It is also the 16th most assigned text in the OSP database, appearing in nearly 16 thousand courses.” Orientalism is among the most popular books assigned in the United States, showing up in nearly 4,000 courses in the syllabus database. Said’s work appears in 6,732 courses in U.S. colleges and universities.
But although it was a major source of controversy, both then and now, it is rarely assigned with any of the critics Said sparred with, like Bernard Lewis, Ian Buruma, or Samuel Huntington. Instead, it’s most often taught with books by fellow luminaries of the postmodern left, such as Frantz Fanon and Judith Butler.
All these ideas are now embedded into diversity, equity, and inclusion identity politics, and “humanitarian” outrage over supposed Israeli “settler-colonialism,” “genocide,” and “apartheid.”
The ground for the massive pro-Hamas college and university encampments, and attacks on Jewish students, was prepared decades ago. The long march of progressives through American institutions over the past decades has taken its toll on society.
Henry Srebrnik is a professor of political science at the University of Prince Edward Island.