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The ADL’s turn away from civil rights was years in the making — Oct. 7 accelerated it

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The Anti-Defamation League’s broad coalition that helped pass a hate crime law in Georgia at the height of the Black Lives Matter movement six years ago was a classic campaign for the organization, drawing together an alliance of civil rights groups with civic and business leaders to pass a landmark piece of liberal-minded legislation.

After helping the ADL shepherd the bill through Georgia’s legislature, Robert Sills, a young Atlanta-based attorney, decided to apply for a job with the organization. “I thought, ‘I know these people and really like them,’” Sills recalled in an interview.

He was hired in August 2023 to manage state and local policy and set to work on a toolkit to help city governments stop hate groups. “When I joined, the perception was still very much that it was white supremacists and neo-Nazis that we were focused on,” Sills said.

The ADL has acknowledged a shift away from civil rights while insisting it remains committed to its historic mission of helping both Jews and non-Jews.

Three years later, much has changed at the nation’s largest Jewish advocacy organization. Sills is gone, and the ADL has shut down its teams focused on democracy and civil rights. Much of the information about #HateFreeGA has been archived and is no longer available on the ADL’s website, nor are hundreds of other pages related to civil rights and extremism, as the organization narrows its focus to antisemitism.

“Core civil rights work is going away,” said Sills, who resigned about a year after he started.

The ADL has tried to walk a fine line between acknowledging a shift away from civil rights while insisting that it remains committed to its historic mission of helping both Jews and non-Jews. The organization said, for example, that removing “protect civil rights” from a prominent section of its website was a technical update; it still notes a commitment to “safeguarding civil rights” in its work countering extremism.

At the same time, Jonathan Greenblatt, the organization’s CEO, has said that the surge of antisemitism following the Oct. 7 Hamas terrorist attack in Israel has been forcing a retreat from the ADL’s historic commitment to such work.

Jonathan Greenblatt, who has led the Anti-Defamation League since 2015, said the organization has been forced to focus more narrowly on antisemitism since Oct. 7, 2023. Photo by Jemal Countess/Getty Images for ADL

“This moment has required us to be more and more focused on fighting the rise of antisemitism,” Greenblatt said in an interview. “And I hope when this situation abates — when there’s a cessation of hate, when the numbers start to come down — that we’ll be able to make different decisions about how we allocate our resources.”

But many close observers say Greenblatt began shifting the organization away from work on voting rights, abortion, and LGBTQ+ issues, among others, well before Oct. 7 and that the ADL is unlikely to return to those issues under his leadership — a shift that could have major implications for American Jews given the ADL’s outsize influence in shaping the way Americans understand antisemitism.

“Groups that should be natural allies of a group like the ADL aren’t going to trust anything it says.”

Rabbi Jill JacobsDirector of T’ruah

This article is based on interviews with 14 current and former ADL employees, board members and major donors, along with other Jewish leaders who have worked closely with the organization, most of whom spoke on the condition of anonymity because they had signed non-disclosure agreements or because being named would jeopardize their current employment or their working relationship with the ADL.

Jill Jacobs, the director of T’ruah, a liberal rabbis and cantors group, said the ADL’s decision to stop working on behalf of other vulnerable groups, and increasing willingness to antagonize former allies on the left, has been making it hard for every Jewish organization trying to convince partners to take antisemitism seriously.

“Groups that should be natural allies of a group like the ADL aren’t going to trust anything it says — and aren’t going to trust much of what’s said publicly about antisemitism by anyone,” she said.

Sherman Fabes, a spokesperson for the ADL, defended the organization’s track record and said that even as it focuses more narrowly on antisemitism it recognizes that “we can’t do it alone.” Fabes pointed to Greenblatt’s decision to sponsor the 60th anniversary of the March on Washington shortly before Oct. 7, ongoing partnerships with the National Urban League and the League of United Latin American Citizens, and lawsuits defending a church targeted by white supremacists over its support of LGBTQ+ rights and an Ohio city suing a neo-Nazi group.

But Greenblatt has also spoken publicly since Oct. 7 about his frustration with the civil rights organizations that he believes failed to show up for Jews as antisemitism spiked. And the ADL’s move away from civil rights work in the two years since has alienated several mainstream organizations.

Both GLAAD, an LGBTQ+ advocacy group and longtime partner of the ADL, and the Asian American Foundation, which was created with support from the ADL, have pulled back from work with the ADL’s Center on Extremism since Oct. 7 as the organization began almost exclusively monitoring antisemitism, according to a former employee. Meanwhile, a global LGBTQ+ rights coalition and the ADL parted ways as well.

The NAACP once partnered closely with the ADL, including on a campaign targeting social media companies, but the organizations have drifted apart more recently and CEO Derrick Johnson has been absent from recent ADL conferences, though Fabes said he remains affiliated with the organization. And several people close to Maya Wiley, who runs the Leadership Conference on Civil Rights, said she and Greenblatt have repeatedly clashed.

Abe Foxman, the ADL’s former longtime director, cautioned against Jews abandoning civil rights work during a podcast last spring. “We can’t throw it away because at the end of the day we’ll be alone,” he said. “And we can’t survive alone.”

An early retreat from civil rights

Greenblatt had been CEO of the ADL for just over a year when Donald Trump was first elected in 2016, and quickly positioned himself as a bulwark against what many feared would be an erosion of civil liberties under the president. “If one day Muslim Americans will be forced to register their identities, then that is the day that this proud Jew will register as Muslim,” Greenblatt declared shortly after the election.

And when Trump nominated Brett Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court in 2018, Greenblatt issued a statement warning about the risk to “the future of civil rights, civil liberties, and our democracy” and referenced “LGBT rights, voting rights, and women’s rights” before raising an alarm about Kavanaugh’s “demonstrated hostility to reproductive freedom.”

The expression of concern was standard fare for the organization, which was founded in 1913 with a mission “to stop the defamation of the Jewish people and to secure justice and fair treatment to all” and had been reliably liberal on domestic political issues, including abortion.

Demonstrators protest U.S. Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh near the U.S. Capitol on Oct. 4, 2018. Photo by Jim Watson/AFP via Getty Images

But the Kavanaugh statement frustrated conservative Jews already wary of Greenblatt’s background working as a special assistant to President Barack Obama. Liel Leibovitz wrote an op-ed for The Wall Street Journal claiming that “Greenblatt has frequently steered the ADL into the murky waters of party politics” and was “leaving American Jews behind.”

The column was part of a flurry of attacks across right-wing media that seemed to hit a nerve.

“Jonathan utterly freaked out,” said a former senior ADL leader familiar with the incident. He announced that the organization would not change its official position on abortion “but we’re kind of going to bury and downplay it,” the source recounted.

Melanie Robbins, the former deputy director of the organization’s New York and New Jersey regional offices, told JTA in December that Greenblatt yelled during a meeting following the Kavanaugh hearings that women’s issues were not core issues for the ADL.

Nancy Kaufman, who was CEO of the National Council on Jewish Women at the time, said she also recalled Greenblatt’s decision to stop working on abortion rights following Kavanaugh’s nomination.

“It was the beginning of the retreat by ADL of dealing with the kind of human rights issues that we had come to believe they were supporting,” Kaufman said in an interview. “I was concerned then; I’m concerned now.”

Fabes, the ADL spokesperson, said that the organization had never been an abortion rights organization and that “the confirmation hearings, nor any response, had no impact on the direction of ADL’s work in any area.”

He denied that Greenblatt had been alarmed by right-wing attacks, and said that he “did not yell at anyone.”

Early in his tenure, Greenblatt also diminished the role of the organization’s national commission, a group of several hundred lay leaders that served as its governing board — who were overwhelmingly liberal, committed to broad civil rights work and had long helped set the organization’s policy agenda.

Joe Berman, a Boston attorney who served on the national commission for 15 years, acknowledged that the 350-member body could be unwieldy and said Greenblatt persuaded them to turn power over to a more traditional 20-person board. But Berman said that however practical it may have been, the move “kneecapped” the influence of volunteer leaders and allowed Greenblatt to shift the organization away from a focus on civil rights.

“Let’s be honest, it’s always been a more progressive, left-leaning organization,” Berman said. “Jonathan is paddling upstream against that.”

Fabes said the ADL has always been “strictly nonpartisan and nonpolitical” and that the transition to a more traditional board reflected best practices for nonprofit governance and was made with broad support.

Greenblatt also oversaw the 2017 departure of Deborah Lauter, who had served as national civil rights director at the ADL for nearly a decade when Greenblatt was hired, and shortly thereafter several of the organization’s most senior civil rights staff — including Michael Lieberman, Erika Moritsugu and Moran Benai — departed within a few months of one another, taking with them years of specialized experience.

“It’s always been a more progressive, left-leaning organization. Jonathan is paddling upstream against that.”

Joe BermanFormer member of the ADL’s national commission

Lieberman had served as Washington counsel for the organization since 1989 and led a portfolio focused on hate crime prevention, religious freedom, and LGBTQ+ equality and voting rights, a role that has not been filled. He also managed the ADL’s relationship with many non-Jewish civil rights groups, which gave him credibility to speak with those groups about antisemitism and Israel.

“We need to stand with others if we think that we want them — expect them — to stand with us,” Lieberman said during a speech shortly before he resigned. “If you want a friend, you have to be a friend.”

Eileen Hershenov’s departure without replacement as senior vice president for democracy initiatives in August 2023 marked the end of an executive-level position focused on civil liberties.

When Greenblatt took over in 2015, the ADL had around 10 full-time employees coordinating the organization’s work on its civil rights portfolio. But despite hiring 200 new staff members over the past decade — and nearly tripling the ADL’s budget from $57 million to $163 million — a combination of attrition and the reassignment of regional civil rights counsels to new roles has led to the elimination of any dedicated teams working on civil rights or democracy.

Fabes said Hershenov’s portfolio and the former civil rights counsels were converted to “policy counsels” and folded into a new 29-person “national affairs” team, “the majority of whom do civil rights work.” But he downplayed the significance of these structural changes over the past decade. “All of our work relates to antisemitism,” Fabes wrote in an email. “That’s true now as it was true then.”

In response to a question about how Greenblatt viewed the departures of Lieberman and other senior civil rights staff, Fabes said that the ADL did not comment on personnel matters. But in a recent op-ed Greenblatt lamented that in working on “the broader landscape of social issues” the organization had sometimes “ranged far from our core purpose.”

Oct. 7 and the ‘bolt of lightning’

Greenblatt’s explanation for how the ADL came to eschew a broader advocacy portfolio in favor of a “laser” focus on antisemitism centers on Oct. 7, 2023, and its aftermath. “It was like a bolt of lightning,” Greenblatt told the Forward in an oral history of the day. “I’ve had tough days, but Oct. 7 was the toughest.”

It wasn’t just the carnage in Israel but a sense of betrayal that struck Greenblatt.

“Jews around the world and here in America mourned,” Greenblatt recalled in a speech this past November. “Yet, to our dismay, many of our so-called allies were nowhere to be found.”

Columbia University students participate in a rally and vigil in support of Israel on Oct. 12, 2023. Photo by Spencer Platt/Getty Images

One of those so-called allies was the Council for Global Equality, a coalition promoting LGBTQ+ rights overseas that the ADL had helped create in 2008 and that Julie Dorf, the council’s co-chair, said had regularly partnered with the ADL on policy campaigns during the Obama administration.

But as the ADL began working less on civil rights issues, they faded into the background of her coalition, Dorf said.

Still, the ADL believed that the council’s statement about the Israel-Hamas war, which condemned “all attacks on civilian populations” and called for a ceasefire, was a departure from the organization’s mission and “harmful to our ADL community,” according to Fabes.

“CGE was unwilling to acknowledge the harm the statement had caused,” Fabes added. “ADL, therefore, made the values-based decision to end our membership in the coalition.”

Dorf said she wasn’t sure what the ADL’s specific objection was even after meeting with them at the time.

“It was clear they didn’t even read it carefully because they accused us of all kinds of things that weren’t true — I said, ‘Pull it up, do you see these sentences?’” recalled Dorf, who is Jewish. “They were just grasping for something that would make it an antisemitic statement.”

“There was a time before Oct. 7 and there’s a time after.”

Jonathan GreenblattCEO of the ADL

Dorf said she didn’t hear anything from the ADL following the meeting and removed the organization from the coalition herself. The council continues to represent some of the largest LGBTQ+ groups in the country, including GLAAD, the Human Rights Campaign and the Trevor Project. Following the ADL’s departure, its only Jewish member is American Jewish World Service.

Fabes said the ADL continues to support LGBTQ+ rights and pointed to recent partnerships with Equality Illinois on a hate crimes training law for police in the state and with Free State Justice on an anti-masking law in Maryland.

Inside the ADL, Sills, who previously worked for Amazon, said Greenblatt began adopting the kind of corporate mantras favored by Jeff Bezos. Instead of “every day is day one,” Greenblatt began telling staff that every day was Oct. 8. “It seemed to communicate the expectation that ADL exists in this trauma response state indefinitely,” Sills said.

Greenblatt has maintained this perspective. “When I say we’re still in an Oct. 8 world, we are — and that doesn’t mean that we don’t adapt and evolve, but there was a time before Oct. 7 and there’s a time after,” he said in an interview.

After Oct. 7, what had been a gradual shift away from working on issues other than antisemitism expanded into what some staff saw as a disregard for safeguarding civil liberties when it came to antisemitism work.

A few weeks after Oct. 7, Greenblatt called on nearly 200 college and university presidents to investigate pro-Palestinian student clubs for “materially supporting” Hamas, and months later the organization endorsed mask bans at political demonstrations.

Sills, the head of local policy at the time, said the anti-masking campaign drove his resignation.

“I laid out the legal argument, commented on the fact that employees at ADL with significant expertise were not being listened to, and said, ‘You’ve got to find somebody else to do this — it’s not going to be me,’” Sills recalled. “It’s unconstitutional.”

Fabes said Sills was not privy to high-level decision making at the ADL and that many experts supported the push for anti-masking laws.

“Ultimately, the proposed anti-masking legislation gained full support from Black and LGBTQ groups because ADL’s approach was responsible and legal, harkening back to the anti-masking laws that were first passed to combat the Ku Klux Klan,” Fabes said. He noted that the NAACP’s local chapter in New York backed a law in the state.

Oren Segal, director of the Anti-Defamation League’s Center on Extremism, during a 2017 press conference. Photo by Drew Angerer/Getty Images

There was also a push within the organization to categorize a wider range of speech as antisemitism, specifically speech targeting Israel. One former employee, who helped the Center on Extremism track antisemitic incidents, said staff initially responded to Greenblatt’s 2022 speech — in which he more forcefully articulated his existing view that anti-Zionism was a form of antisemitism — by defining the concept extremely narrowly.

“The team cared a lot about the data and said, ‘Well, Jonathan has defined anti-Zionism as specifically not supporting a Jewish right to self-determination in Israel, so just saying ‘Israel is a racist state’ isn’t saying Jews have no right to self-determination,’” the employee recalled.

But after Oct. 7, the person said, ADL executives began insisting that the center’s staff classify many pro-Palestinian demonstrations as antisemitic based on the use of anti-Zionist slogans and signs.

The ADL said in a statement to the Forward in January 2024, following the release of its first annual tally of antisemitic incidents following Oct. 7, that it had significantly broadened its definition of antisemitic incidents to include rallies that feature “anti-Zionist chants and slogans.”

“While our methodology may change slightly from time to time, there was no mandate from senior leadership to make changes after Oct. 7,” Fabes said. He added that the ADL only counted 2,596 out of more than 5,000 protests against Israel in 2024 as antisemitic.

The Asian American Foundation, a civil rights organization modeled after the ADL and created with significant support from Greenblatt, has come under pressure to cut ties with the group from 70 Asian American groups and allies frustrated with Greenblatt’s criticism of pro-Palestinian activists. The foundation has maintained its relationship with the ADL, including sharing a board member with the organization, though The New Yorker reported that it ended its partnership with the Center on Extremism in the spring of 2024.

Around the same time, Sarah Moore, who had been monitoring anti-LGBTQ+ extremism in a dual role for both the ADL and GLAAD, started a new role working exclusively for GLAAD. GLAAD did not respond to multiple questions about its current relationship with the ADL, but three former employees said the organization had made an intentional decision to cut ties.

Fabes said the ADL was “proud of the work our teams accomplished together” and “proud that this effort enabled GLAAD to fully fund and house this position within its own team.”

ADL staff in the Center on Extremism wrote a letter to their boss, quoted by The New Yorker, warning that the organization was losing trust with “other extremism researchers, media outlets, anti-hate organizations, civil rights groups and — perhaps most concerningly — large swaths of the Jewish community that we are committed to serving.”

The letter came from “a few people” and “did not represent the views of all staff,” according to Fabes, but he said that Greenblatt met with the team to discuss the issues raised.

The ADL also said that it was in the process of adding a new researcher to the Center on Extremism funded by the League of United Latin American Citizens to monitor threats to the Hispanic community.

Greenblatt made waves early in the second Trump administration for initially defending Elon Musk’s controversial gesture at an inaugural rally as an “awkward gesture,” and then supporting the White House’s “bold” attempt to revoke the permanent residency of Mahmoud Khalil, a leader of the pro-Palestinian demonstrations at Columbia University, and detain him at an immigration jail in Louisiana.

The Anti-Defamation League praised the Trump administration for detaining and attempting to deport Mahmoud Khalil, a former Columbia University graduate student known for his role in the 2024 Columbia University pro-Palestinian protests, pictured here during a rally following his release from detention. Photo by Stephanie Keith/Getty Images

The response to Khalil’s arrest was the final straw for Berman, who first joined the ADL’s regional New England board in 2001 and had held leadership positions on the national commission.

Berman had little sympathy for Khalil’s views, which he called “reprehensible” in his resignation letter, but defending the arrest had “irrevocably degraded the ADL’s moral authority.”

“If we don’t stand for civil rights, we stand for nothing,” he added.

The Khalil controversy did little to change Greenblatt’s hostile posture toward campus protesters. In a closed-door meeting with Republican attorneys general over that summer, he compared masked demonstrators at Columbia to ISIS and al-Qaida terrorists.

In an interview, Greenblatt emphasized that his remarks were not intended for the public.

But his intensifying rhetoric toward protesters drove an even deeper wedge between the ADL and other civil rights groups. In the initial aftermath of Oct. 7, many Jewish clergy and other leaders wondered why their interfaith and social justice partners weren’t condemning Hamas more forcefully, while leaders in other communities questioned a perceived lack of sympathy for Palestinian civilians.

Ginna Green, the founder of Horizon Philanthropy, which encourages Jewish donors to support liberal democracy, said she understood the fear that led to this schism between not only the ADL but many other Jewish establishment groups and civil rights groups in recent years — but said it was shortsighted.

“The American Jewish community has never been less safe,” Green said. “We’ve never needed the protection of democracy and coalitions and partners more than right now — so to make this move at a time when nobody is safe unless they’re a straight, white Christian male seems like an absolute abandonment of the principles the ADL was founded on.”

A former senior staff member at the ADL who worked there before and after Oct. 7 said he shared the frustration toward the progressive and human rights communities but thought there was an opportunity for cooler heads to prevail.

Instead, the organization’s approach — including the call to investigate students for ties to Hamas — caused a tonal shift among former allies from, “We don’t want to work with the ADL because we don’t think they care about us,” he said, to “We can’t work with them because they’re a hate organization.”

Greenblatt tests ‘old friendships’

The ADL’s shifting approach to civil rights began around 2017, but the rupture with other groups also grew from a new understanding of where antisemitism was coming from, which Greenblatt began to articulate a few years before Oct. 7.

Early in the Biden administration, Greenblatt argued that a record-shattering spike in antisemitic incidents was being caused not just by the right, which was responsible for most of the physical violence toward Jews, but by people criticizing Israel. “When you have people make wild claims about the Jewish state, make unhinged accusations, maybe it shouldn’t surprise us that then people attack Jewish Americans,” he said on PBS News Hour in April 2022.

Just a few weeks later Greenblatt delivered a watershed speech at the ADL’s national leadership summit in which he declared that “anti-Zionism is antisemitism” and said the groups promoting it — including Students for Justice in Palestine, Jewish Voice for Peace and the Council on American-Islamic Relations — were the “photo inverse” of violent white supremacists.

“These organizations might not have armed themselves,” Greenblatt said, but “if you demonize another group enough, there are more than a few people out there who will act.”

Greenblatt had spoken out against anti-Zionism for years, but the speech marked a new era in which he would start regularly describing anti-Zionists as posing an equivalent threat to white supremacists.

According to several former employees familiar with the matter, he delivered these remarks over the objection of most of the ADL’s senior leadership team, including Oren Segal, who runs the organization’s Center on Extremism and cautioned that law enforcement might take Greenblatt’s remarks as an excuse to surveil peaceful advocacy groups.

“Oren himself says that he has no recollection of ever having a conversation” in which he raised those concerns, Fabes said.

Greenblatt recognized in his speech that the new direction he was plotting would “fray some old friendships” and “cost us some donations.”

One of those old friendships seemed to fray almost immediately.

Greenblatt’s speech was followed by remarks from Maya Wiley, the incoming CEO of the Leadership Conference on Civil Rights, one of the country’s oldest coalitions of its kind that includes the ADL, NAACP and ACLU, along with scores of smaller groups.

Wiley had not been warned that Greenblatt would unveil a more aggressive posture toward progressive organizations at the event, and it prompted an immediate challenge for her work keeping a sprawling coalition united despite differences over Israel, according to multiple people familiar with the matter.

Leadership Conference on Civil Rights CEO Maya Wiley appears with her husband, Harlan Mandel, who is Jewish, at a campaign stop during her 2021 run for mayor of New York City. Photo by Michael M. Santiago/Getty Images

The relationship between Wiley and Greenblatt has continued to deteriorate, sometimes in personal terms, three people familiar with the matter said.

Greenblatt unequivocally denied this. “That’s not true,” he said. “I have a lot of respect for Maya.”

Wiley declined to answer questions about her relationship with Greenblatt.

The ADL was not among the 65 civil rights organizations that signed onto a June statement from the Leadership Conference condemning “antisemitic hate crimes” following the attacks at the Capital Jewish Museum and at a rally in Boulder, Colorado, last spring. Wiley also released a statement last summer defending the National Education Association, a member organization, after Republicans pushed to shut it down over a vote to boycott the ADL.

Several Leadership Conference member organizations also took issue with the ADL before Oct. 7 over a preliminary version of survey results about antisemitism in the African American community that they found oversimplified and offensive. The ADL eventually agreed to delay the survey’s release and modify its presentation. Fabes described the incident as part of the ADL’s belief in “a counsel culture, not a cancel culture.”

Fabes said that Greenblatt has a recurring call with Wiley and that the ADL currently serves on the Leadership Conference’s board and sits on its hate crimes task force. He also said that the ADL continues to work with the NAACP, and that Johnson served as co-chair of its Sports Leadership Council even as he has been absent from recent conferences and called for an arms embargo against Israel.

The NAACP did not respond to questions about the current status of its work with the ADL.

Maya Berry, executive director of the Arab American Institute, is the co-chair of the hate crimes task force that the ADL sits on, and while she once testified alongside Greenblatt during a 2021 congressional hearing about violent extremism, Berry recently said she was pleased the FBI had decided to end its partnership with the ADL.

The ADL has continued to work closely with two Leadership Conference members: the National Urban League, another Leadership Conference member, whose president spoke at its annual conference last year, and the League of United Latin American Citizens.

Wiley said in a statement to the Forward that, despite various divisions, the Leadership Conference has always sought to maintain a diverse coalition committed to “fighting antisemitism and all forms of hate.”

ADL loses longtime supporters

While the ADL has long faced criticism from progressives — including a campaign to #DropTheADL over its support for Israel — many former employees and board members who are speaking out now were unswayed by these previous critiques.

Tracey Lagbold, who served as leadership chair on the national commission and head of the ADL’s education committee, said that “breaking up with ADL was one of the hardest things I’ve done in my entire life.”

She first got involved with the ADL in 2008 after an acquaintance invited her to an event the organization was hosting. “It was the first time I really heard about civil rights from a Jewish perspective,” she said. “I was like, ‘Wow, I didn’t know I was looking for that my whole life, but that’s what I’ve been wanting.’”

Lagbold eventually became chair of the ADL’s Florida board and assumed several national roles. She stomached a series of frustrating decisions made by Greenblatt, she said, including shrinking the organization’s education programming focused on combating bias and eliminating the dedicated civil rights team.

But presenting an award to Jared Kushner in early 2024 for his work on the Abraham Accords was the final straw.

Walter Jospin, a longtime ADL donor, was also angered by the award, and said Greenblatt’s decision to give it caught the organization’s then-board chair Ben Sax by surprise. “He told me that the national board was blindsided — Jonathan just did it,” Jospin said. “They didn’t like it.”

Sax did not respond to a request for comment, and Fabes said the organization does not discuss Greenblatt’s interactions with the board.

“The ADL was founded on this mission of doing two things that I thought were inextricable: caring for others and caring for ourselves,” said Lagbold, whose resignation from the ADL has not been previously reported. “I don’t think of them as two things, because they need each other, they inform each other — and it became clear in the last few years that’s not the way the organization is operating anymore.”

Aaron Ahlquist, who ran the ADL’s regional office in New Orleans and eventually became a regional vice president, resigned in July over similar concerns with the organization, according to a copy of his resignation letter obtained by the Forward.

In a scathing critique of the organization’s leadership, Ahlquist wrote that national board chair Nicole Mutchnik had told regional leaders that “our sole focus was on an immediate ROI on our activity and we would be looking [for] short-term results only.”

“This is a false assertion and the characterization of Nicole is inaccurate,” Fabes said.

Ahlquist argued that this made it hard to advocate for investing in civil rights issues or in building coalitions with other minority groups, work that often takes “years or decades to earn our place at the table.”

He said that a more forceful emphasis on defending Israel while pulling back on education programs that focused on protecting all minority groups was marginalizing the organization and allowing longtime opponents of the ADL, like the Council on American-Islamic Relations, to increase their influence.

“Our move away from our integrated mission has potentially done irreparable harm for ADL in non-Jewish spaces,” Ahlquist wrote.

Greenblatt has framed the ADL’s turn away from working on issues beyond antisemitism as one meant to pair the organization’s limited resources with a growing number of incidents targeting Jews.

“Our core purpose is to protect the Jewish people — not in an esoteric way, not in some attenuated manner, but right here, right now.”

Jonathan GreenblattCEO of the ADL

Fabes noted that the organization tallied the highest number of antisemitic incidents on record in 2019 and then again in 2021 and 2022, and that the synagogue shootings in both Pittsburgh and Poway, California, predated Oct. 7. “The growing crisis underscored our hyperfocus on addressing rising levels of antisemitism,” he said.

But some see this as a false binary.

Lagbold is now a board member at the Jewish Council for Public Affairs, which has argued that preserving democratic norms helps guarantee Jewish safety, and that trading quick wins — like the deportation of college students who protest Israel in ways that some Jews find offensive — in exchange for the erosion of due process is a bad deal. “It’s impossible to separate these issues,” Amy Spitalnick, JCPA’s CEO, said in a text message.

Greenblatt understands this position, and even articulated it in his 2022 book, It Could Happen Here, in which he wrote that “the founders of ADL believed in the simple but powerful premise that America could not be safe for its Jews unless it was safe for all its people.”

Steven Ludwig, a longtime regional board member in Philadelphia, seized on Greenblatt’s previous writing in his resignation letter over the summer.

“Did you mean it when you wrote … ‘There’s still time to stand up for the peaceful, democratic society we want to gift to our children and grandchildren,’” Ludwig asked. “If so, why are you not standing up now?”

In an interview, Greenblatt described the ADL as stepping into a more service-oriented role amid a “tsunami” of antisemitism. “When Jewish people find their homes or their businesses defaced,” he said, “when Jewish professionals are being boycotted from their lines of work, when Jewish members of unions are being harassed — we stand up for them.”

The ADL has responded to these issues with advocacy and also, increasingly, with practical tools, including several helplines that field complaints of discrimination in K-12 schools and on college campuses, which have yielded hundreds of reports and in some cases federal complaints or lawsuits on behalf of callers. Greenblatt said high-minded advocacy on behalf of civil rights or democratic norms was too abstract for the current moment.

“One could make the argument that protecting democracy protects the Jews,” he said. “But our core purpose is to protect the Jewish people — not in an esoteric way, not in some attenuated manner, but right here, right now.”

And, he added, all the work the ADL is doing defending Jews against antisemitism?

“That’s civil rights work.”

The post The ADL’s turn away from civil rights was years in the making — Oct. 7 accelerated it appeared first on The Forward.

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The civil war in the far-right is coming down to Jews

On 9/11 of this year, far-right extremist and Jan. 6 agitator Jake Lang led a protest against  New York Mayor Zohran Mamdani’s attendance at the memorial service. Lang referred to his protest as a “crusade” and brandished a wooden cross at Ground Zero.

Among the many counter-protesters who showed up to oppose Lang was a group of neo-Nazis carrying a banner reading “Jake Lang is a Jew” and screaming that Lang is leading a “psyop” — an attempt to sway public opinion secretly backed by a government, presumably Israel’s.

Just as confusingly, in between shouts of “We are the real Nazis! We are the real racists!” and rants about removing Jews from the American government, the small group of Nazis chanted “Free, free Palestine” and “Heil Hitler, free Palestine!” Perhaps most bafflingly of all, alongside the seven men in swastika armbands stood someone in a full Elmo suit wearing a Palestinian flag as a cape.

Lang has a Jewish mother and was bar mitzvahed. But he has decisively renounced Judaism to embrace an extreme form of Christian nationalism. He has burned a Koran and a Talmud, performed a Heil Hitler salute outside of AIPAC headquarters and regularly screams “Christ is King” at his protests, which are usually directed against Muslims — he protested Mamdani on 9/11 as well as in March outside Gracie Mansion, and targeted the large Arab population in Dearborn, Mich. with another “crusade” protest in August.

The Nazis protesting Lang epitomize an issue increasingly splitting the far-right: Jews.

From the outside, the far-right appears relatively united in its support for extremist ideas about Christian and white nationalism, as well as its openly expressed racism. They are virulently anti-immigration and anti-women, suspicious of science and education and in favor of building an ethnically and theologically homogenous society. They are almost always antisemitic, spreading false conspiracy theories about Jewish control. Yet internal battles on the right are breaking out with increasing regularity over just what form of antisemitism they endorse.

Take Lang. He is, by his statements and actions, a staunch Christian nationalist. Though he focuses his ire mostly on Muslims — Lang advertised the Dearborn protest with videos captioned “Americans against Islamiphication” [sic], and his protests against Mamdani have focused on the New York City mayor’s Muslim identity — he is far from friendly to Jews.

He regularly proclaims that “America is a Christian country.” And he has endorsed antisemitic conspiracy theories, stating, on erstwhile Trump ally and conspiracy theorist Laura Loomer’s podcast, “I will be the first one to call out this liberal, woke Jewish mafia that controls Hollywood and is brainwashing the white women to all fall in love with Black men and they’re poisoning and they’re not real Jews.” That’s a real litany of antisemitic conspiracy theories all rolled efficiently, if somewhat incoherently, into a single sentence — the Great Replacement Theory and Jewish cabals with a dash of some Medieval-era well-poisoning.

Still, he hedged his antisemitism a little bit: “We have been psyoped into blaming everything on the Jews, that’s ridiculous,” he said in the same podcast with Loomer.

That statement, along with his Jewish ancestry marks him as an outsider to the other wing of the far-right — including the Nazis opposing him. “We’re pro the white race,” said one at the protest last week. “Whites and everyone in this world who opposes Jewish power, in one struggle against the Jews.”

It’s not just the handful of Nazis. Other far-right influencers have also called out Lang.

Dan Bilzerian, another rightwing influencer who spread antisemitism during his run for Congress, pointed out Lang’s Jewish background in a tweet saying “This is what jews do, they pretend to be white to spread white, black and Muslim hate.”

Antisemitic streamer Nick Fuentes, who has also led a crucifix-brandishing march in New York, said the same of Lang in another tweet: “This guy is a Jewish operative and his entire campaign is a psyop to instigate conflict between Whites and Muslims.”

The rift on the right

Nick Fuentes also brandishes a cross at a protest in New York city. Photo by

Lang is not the only face of his almost-but-not-quite-antisemitic side of the far-right aisle, nor the only target of neo-Nazi ire. It was perhaps best embodied in Charlie Kirk, who espoused open anti-Black racism, anti-LGBTQ hate, Islamophobia and anti-immigrant sentiments — but also on a few occasions attended Shabbat dinners with Jews.

Opposing them are those for whom antisemitism isn’t one of many extremist or bigoted beliefs, but the guiding ideology. This side is characterized by the “groypers,” or followers of Nick Fuentes, though it’s certainly not limited to them.

It’s not that Lang and Kirk’s side of the schism doesn’t still spread antisemitic ideas; Kirk talked about the “great replacement strategy” and Jewish media control. Yet he also, in his book about keeping the Sabbath, expressed respect for some Jewish thinkers, even as he denigrated Judaism’s lack of belief in Jesus.

These political views are common in MAGA circles; Vice President JD Vance and Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth regularly reference Christian nationalism in their conception of what makes the U.S. great, and aggressively oppose immigration. Hegseth brought the leader of his church movement, Doug Wilson, to lead prayers at the Pentagon; Wilson has stated that women should not have the right to vote and that the U.S. should be a Christian country governed by the Bible.

But most of these figures also support Israel, even if it is often out of a desire for Christian control over the Holy Land. And they try — with somewhat limited success — to sidestep open antisemitism.

Yet open antisemitism is no longer just limited to the far fringe of the right and self-identified groypers. Today, politicians like former congresswoman Marjorie Taylor Greene and once-mainstream media figures like Tucker Carlson have openly embraced the ideology, as well as groypers themselves, even interviewing and “mm-hmming” along with Fuentes.

In this political framework, hating Jews is a core part of being a true Christian and a true American. This is justified by theological ideas including but not limited to supersessionism, but those religious concepts are mixed inextricably with conspiracy theories about Jewish devil-worship and outsize Jewish influence over world events. For those believers, there is no good country with Jews in it. And they reject anyone who is friendly toward Jews or Israel, or even remotely associated; Fuentes claimed Wilson was “in bed with the Jews” despite his Christian nationalism.

This was obvious immediately in the wake of Kirk’s death; groypers had been warring with Kirk, showing up to events put on by his conservative youth organization Turning Point USA to disrupt and push Kirk even further to the right. After Kirk’s murder, they celebrated and some even referred to his death as a “shitpost,” or form of trolling.

The cultural power and inspiring heroic image that the mainstream right attempted to construct from Kirk’s death never quite came to be; a statue of Kirk arrived in Times Square this month, but the Turning Point USA founder has been turned into a mocking meme by the far-right young men he once courted. Kirk’s politics, which managed to toe the line of acceptable rhetoric on the mainstream right, have been abandoned for open neo-Nazism and antisemitic conspiracy theories.

This hate for Jews has grown so strong that it can even override Islamophobia, despite the movement’s foundational white, Christian nationalism; the groypers’ and neo-Nazis’ antisemitism is so virulent that it sometimes turns, incongruously, into pro-Palestine activism, particularly when combined with suspicion of the government’s alliance with Israel.

Carlson interviewed a Palestinian archbishop, using the conversation more as a way to emphasize the idea that Israel was bombing Christians. The Nazis opposing Lang chanted “Free Palestine” on several occasions. Marjorie Taylor Greene regularly posts about children in Gaza. Even Fuentes seems warmer to Muslims than he is to Jews. “My enemy’s enemy is my friend,” appears to be the guiding principle.

In many ways, both sides of the rift in the far-right share a vision of America as a white, Christian nation. They even share some antisemitism — but one side at least still keeps it somewhat veiled. The other will abandon its commitment to white Christian nationalism if it means ridding the country of Jews.

That rift could fracture the extremist right entirely and leave it weakened or even destroyed. Or we could be seeing more than a handful of neo-Nazis out on the street next time.

The post The civil war in the far-right is coming down to Jews appeared first on The Forward.

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Why the closing prayers of Judaism’s holiest day focus on repairing relationships with each other

Each Passover, as Jewish families start the Seder meal, a child asks, “Why is this night different from all other nights?

And each Yom Kippur, as worshippers attend the last prayers of the day, they might well ask: “Why is this closing service different from all other services?”

The Book of Life

Throughout the High Holidays, the 10-day period that begins with Rosh Hashanah and ends with Yom Kippur, Jews pray to be “inscribed” in the Book of Life – that God grant them life, livelihood, health and moral growth in the coming year.

The holidays culminate in Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement: a day dedicated to reflection, fasting and repairing each person’s relationship with others – and through that, their relationship with God.

According to Jewish tradition, the Book of Life is sealed as Yom Kippur draws to a close, as is each person’s fate for the coming year. During the fifth and final service, one prays to be “sealed,” which on this Day of Judgment entails being forgiven. This last service is thus titled “Ne’ilah,” or “the closing,” reflecting the idea that the gates of heaven are closing. It also alludes to the gates of the ancient Temple in Jerusalem, where the holiday was once celebrated.

Ne’ilah prayers are accordingly recited at the closing of the day – just at sunset, adding nature’s drama to the closing of the day. The ambience is enhanced by keeping open the ark of the Torah, the usually closed chamber at the front of the synagogue that protects the scrolls of scripture. Many congregants remain standing, using this final chance to plead their case as the day slips by.

A large cabinet-like structure stands open, containing scrolls encased in silver holders.
The Torah ark stands open in Garnethill Synagogue in Glasgow, Scotland.
Stinglehammer/Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA

In the image of God

Yom Kippur is a day reserved for repentance, expressed through confession – and, in many ways, it is a day of repetition. The confessional prayer is recited up to 10 times over the course of five services.

It begins with the congregation asking God for forgiveness “for the sin that I have committed before You.” Yet what follows is an extended list of ethical sins, with a focus on the sins of abusive speech, such as slandering, slurring, slighting and smearing the reputations of others. A foundational concept of Judaism is that humanity is made in the image of God, meaning that in wronging others, we offend God as well.

As a scholar of Jewish liturgy, I believe this prayer points to a key theme of the entire High Holidays, and of Judaism itself: that to do right by God, people must first do right by each other.

An outstretched hand

After reciting the confessional, the Ne’ilah service adds one more prayer, not used in other services. This addendum focuses not on the specifics of confession but the dynamics of repentance: underscoring that belief that each person’s relationship with God is correlated with their relationship with other people.

Ne’ilah thus focuses on the sin of fraud, echoing a passage from the biblical Book of Jonah read in the preceding afternoon service: “Let everyone repent of their evil way by giving back the stolen goods in their hands.” To return to God, then, it is important to return what is owed to other people: emotionally, spiritually and materially.

A woman stares into the distance as she stands amid other people in a sanctuary.
Yom Kippur involves five prayer services, ending at nightfall with Ne’ilah prayers.
Maskot/DigitalVision via Getty Images

Whereas the oft-repeated confessional focuses on offenses of the lips, such as slander, here the focus is on offenses of the hands: taking what does not belong to us, such as by exploiting the vulnerable or committing fraud.

The prayer opens with God’s outstretched, inviting hand, inducing penitents to hand over ill-gotten goods to their rightful owner. But as the addendum has it, God can’t hold out his hand in reconciliation until we have reconciled with the people we wronged.

“You give space” – literally, you give a hand – “to the sinner, but You extend Your right hand to penitents,” it begins. “You have taught us … to confess to You every one of our sins so that we cease handling unlawful goods.”

Judaism holds that God won’t forgive you for a sin if you haven’t made amends with the person you wronged. During the Days of Awe leading up to Yom Kippur, Jews are taught to ask each other for forgiveness, apologizing for the ways we wronged one another in the past year.

Repent and repair

Rather than browbeating people into repentance, the Ne’ilah service’s strategy is to boost them up into it, playing upon the biblical idea of the grandeur of humanity. “You have distinguished humanity from the beginning, privileging it to stand before You,” the liturgy says.

Judaism sees sin as a rupture that can be healed, not an inherent condition. The liturgy’s message is this: Live up to your greatness, your divinely endowed potential, as a being made in God’s image.

For Ne’ilah, the eminence of humanity consists in the ability to repent and set things right before man and God. This is what Yom Kippur is all about.The Conversation

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

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At Dartmouth, Jewish and Middle Eastern Studies refuse to stay apart

Immediately after the Oct. 7 attacks and the start of the Israel-Gaza War, Dartmouth College student Jackson Weinstein was “extremely outspoken” on campus about his support for Israel.

But by his sophomore year, he had largely withdrawn from discussing the conflict with other students.

“It felt like I was losing friends and just making things harder for myself,” said Weinstein, now a senior at the Ivy League university in New Hampshire.

This past school year, he enrolled in a new course, Difficult Conversations on the Middle East, developed by the college in response to debates over Israel and Gaza that have divided campuses across the country.

For the first several weeks, the class, jointly offered by Dartmouth’s Middle East and Jewish Studies departments, avoided delving into the conflict. Instead, students started by studying topics like groupthink, mindfulness, emotional regulation and academic freedom.

Only by the fifth week did they plunge into subjects like Palestinian armed resistance, women’s rights in the Middle East, the accusation of genocide in Gaza and the role of colonialism in the region.

“In the first class, students come in with this idea of, ‘How do I win the debate? How do I show that I’m right?’’” said Jonathan Smolin, a professor of Middle Eastern Studies. “That’s categorically not what we’re doing in the class.”

Smolin teaches the course alongside Ezzedine Fishere, a former Egyptian diplomat who spent five years posted in Israel.

The hope is that students learn to take an argument seriously enough to understand it before deciding whether they reject it.

The unusual course, offered again this school year, is the product of an experiment Dartmouth began long before Oct. 7. For roughly a decade, its Jewish and Middle Eastern Studies programs have deliberately intertwined themselves: professors co-teach and cross-list courses, serve on each other’s steering committees, co-sponsor visiting professors and even occupy neighboring offices in the same building. It’s just as much for the faculty as it is for the students.

“I want to understand why some people hold positions that I may find horrific,” said Susannah Heschel, chair of Jewish Studies at Dartmouth. “I’m not here to just condemn something; I want to understand the complexity of it.”

An unusual partnership

For Darcy Rochkind, a Middle Eastern Studies major modifying her degree to include Jewish Studies, the partnership is what drew her to Dartmouth.

Rochkind was applying to college in the fall of 2023, as campuses across the country were convulsed by protests and arguments over universities’ responses to Oct. 7. Her dream school was Columbia, but after watching congressional hearings on antisemitism in person and videos her mom sent her of Dartmouth’s Jewish Studies and Middle Eastern Studies professors discussing the conflict side by side, she changed her plans and enrolled at Dartmouth.

“You’d have a very hard time being a Middle Eastern Studies or Jewish Studies major without taking a class from the opposite department,” she said.

The experiment also extends beyond the classroom. In the immediate aftermath of the Oct. 7 attacks, Heschel and her colleagues in Middle Eastern Studies organized two public forums to discuss what had happened and opened it to students. The room was so packed that Dartmouth needed an overflow space, and Heschel said another 1,600 people watched via livestream.

After those initial forums, Dartmouth launched Middle East Dialogues, a series of events organized by faculty in Jewish and Middle Eastern Studies to explore challenging topics related to the region. Rather than foster safe spaces, Dartmouth leaders aspired to create what they call “brave spaces,” where students are encouraged to actively engage with disagreement.

To make it work, Smolin, who has organized many of the program’s events, deliberately avoids inviting speakers who are political activists on either side.

“We’re not interested in people declaring who’s right and who’s wrong,” he said. “That’s not what we do in higher education.”

Instead, they have hosted Israeli and Palestinian political commentators, think tank experts, and public-opinion researchers.

Professors have also facilitated meetings between students to expose them to different viewpoints. Weinstein and several other Jewish students went to dinner with a group of Muslim students, including two Palestinians and a student who had grown up in Gaza. His professor, Fishere, facilitated the gathering.

The students sat together at Pine, a Dartmouth restaurant, and talked for hours about the war, the accusation of genocide in Gaza and the experiences of Gazan civilians.

Weinstein had never before met someone who had spent his entire life in Gaza. He described the dinner as “one of the most human experiences I’ve had at Dartmouth.”

A national flashpoint

Dartmouth’s approach has become increasingly distinctive as Middle East studies programs have become flashpoints in campus battles over Israel, antisemitism and academic freedom.

Since Oct. 7, critics — including Jewish students, alumni, and watchdogs — have accused some Middle East studies programs across the country of teaching about Israel through a hostile ideological lens and creating an inhospitable environment for Jewish and pro-Israel students.

Some professors in the field, meanwhile, have argued that accusations of antisemitism in higher education are being used to police scholarship that could be critical of Israel.

By 2025, the federal government got involved. The Trump administration subjected multiple universities to sweeping demands aimed at addressing allegations of antisemitism by taking away federal funding. Columbia responded by promising to conduct a review of Middle East course offerings to ensure they are balanced.

Under similar pressure, Harvard’s Center for Middle Eastern Studies removed the center’s director and associate director from their leadership posts, though they kept their jobs. The Trump administration later demanded that the school’s Middle East Studies Department, among others, be audited by a third party to ensure a diversity of viewpoints.

The interventions prompted outrage from professors, students, and academic-freedom advocates arguing that the government was seeking to exert control over how universities teach about Israel and the Middle East.

According to Heschel, the climate has contributed to driving a wedge between Jewish Studies and Middle East Studies departments on some college campuses.

“I know that at some universities, faculty in Middle East and Jewish Studies don’t even talk to each other; they don’t respond to each other’s emails, for example,” she said. “That I find appalling. That’s unacceptable.”

Not everything is about conflict

For Heschel, the intellectual case for faculty in Jewish and Middle Eastern Studies to collaborate goes beyond teaching students how to talk about the current conflict.

“We want our students to know not just about the conflict that they read about in the newspapers today,” Heschel said. “We want them to know about a period where there was religious tolerance and respect for one another, to see that it’s possible we don’t have to live in a condition of anger and enmity.”

She co-teaches a course with a Middle East Studies professor examining how Jews in Europe and Arabs in the Middle East responded to modernity during the 19th century.

In one lesson, students learn about the Lebanese intellectual Butrus al-Bustani, who founded a school in Beirut in 1863 for Christian, Muslim and Jewish boys — and hired a cook to prepare kosher food for his Jewish students.

Engineering major Oguz Kurt, a rising junior who was born and raised in Turkey, took the course last semester.

“Building trust week over week” with classmates and professors, he said, brings people like him into the room who might otherwise be “intimidated” by the prospect of tense encounters in a class focused explicitly on the Israeli and Palestinian conflict.

Kurt wants to be there, which points to one obvious limitation to Dartmouth’s experiment: Students have to want to participate.

A 2025 survey of graduating seniors by the university’s campus newspaper, The Dartmouth, found that nearly 70% described themselves as liberal or very liberal, compared with roughly 12% who identified as conservative or very conservative. More than 70% said most of their closest friends shared their political beliefs.

Additionally, a 2025 Gallup poll conducted on the Dartmouth student body in 2025, found only 38% reported feeling comfortable sharing unorthodox ideas in class.

Weinstein wonders whether this degree of homogeneity is why courses like Difficult Conversations succeed – the people least willing to engage with opposing points of view don’t take the class.

“Everyone was there to learn. Everyone could be persuaded,” he said. “In some ways that’s a problem,” adding that the class might benefit from “a wider range of ideologues.”

“Not all of Dartmouth is like this,” Smolin acknowledged. “No doubt there are professors in other units that think it’s up to faculty to lead liberation and that this approach is stifling.”

On the other end of the spectrum, Heschel said some right-wing Jewish faculty members outside the Jewish Studies program have criticized the approach she and her colleagues take.

“I understand the anxiety that Jews feel today about university campuses, but I think they’re underestimating their own students,” she said. “Kids will encounter viewpoints that they will find disturbing and offensive, not just about Israel… they need to learn how to handle such a situation, how to respond.”

Heschel said faculty and administrators at other universities have approached Dartmouth to ask how to replicate what they did.

“I was surprised that we received so many requests from deans and presidents of colleges and universities to come and talk about what we had done,” she said.

From Dartmouth to Damascus

One of the people thinking about what could be replicated outside Hanover comes from much farther away.

Before flying to New Hampshire this May, Ibrahim Imre El-Khalid Bethlen asked ChatGPT a question he had never needed answered before: What is proper Shabbat etiquette?

Heschel and Bethlen at Dartmouth Courtesy of Ibrahim Imre El-Khalid Bethlen

Bethlen, a Syrian political scientist who teaches at Damascus University, met Heschel when she traveled to Damascus with a delegation of Jewish Americans in December 2025. She invited him to come to Dartmouth for 10 days and packed his schedule with jointly taught courses like Difficult Conversations, and a seminar about Jews in Algeria. Bethlen also lectured about the current political situation in Syria and attended his first ever Shabbat at the campus’ Chabad.

Just as new to him was seeing Jewish Studies and Middle Eastern Studies professors teaching together.

“With every professor we had some brainstorming about how we could bring the people closer,” he said. “How could we demystify” Jews to Syrians. Most of them have never met a Jewish person since the millennia-old Syrian Jewish community left en masse in the mid-20th Century.

Now, Bethlen hopes to connect faculty at Damascus University to their counterparts at Dartmouth. He is realistic about political sensitivities. Bringing an Israeli or Jewish Studies professor into a Syrian classroom to discuss the contemporary conflict, he says, could be a nonstarter. But having an Arab professor in the classroom as well could help.

“We don’t want to jump too high,” he said.

He imagines beginning somewhere Dartmouth itself often begins: with classes focused on shared history and culture rather than contemporary politics. Perhaps a jointly taught course that introduces students to the literature and poetry of Jews and Arabs once shared across the Middle East. Classes like Difficult Conversations can come later.

As a part of that Dartmouth class’s final assignment, students are asked to have a conversation with someone on campus they disagree with about the region, applying what they have learned.

Weinstein chose a friend and fraternity brother whose views on Israel differed sharply from his own. They talked for several hours.

“I ended by congratulating Eli on being ‘the only close friend I’ve ever had that wasn’t pro-Israel,’” Weinstein wrote in his reflection afterward. “I sure hope he isn’t the last.”

The post At Dartmouth, Jewish and Middle Eastern Studies refuse to stay apart appeared first on The Forward.

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