Features
A life snuffed short: 49 years ago a brilliant young med student by the name of Aron Katz drowned in the Whiteshell in the course of saving his own younger sister herself from drowning
By BERNIE BELLAN On July 21 I received an interesting email from someone by the name of Reid Linney that immediately aroused my interest.
Here is what Reid wrote: “Hi, I’m a member of St. John’s High School’s Class of 1969. We celebrated the 50th anniversary of our graduation in 2019 and embarked upon a fundraising effort for an annual scholarship. The scholarship honors our classmate, Aron Katz.
“In 1973 he gave his life while saving his sister from drowning.
“Aron was in med school at the time.
“Our class, and members of Aron’s family, raised enough money to fund an annual scholarship of $2,500.
“It’s awarded to a graduating student who shows academic promise and exhibits both personal courage and empathy for others.
“On Tuesday, August 16, at 9:00 am we’ll be meeting at the school to install a memorial plaque on the Alumni Wall.
“If you have any interest in joining us, please feel free to do so…
“Cheers,
“Reid Linney”
Reid’s email intrigued me. I admit though that I had never heard of Aron Katz, although he would have been only two years older than me at the time of his death. I responded to Reid:
“Hi Reid,
“This is a very poignant story. It reminds me of another story – also about a St. John’s student who died tragically around the same time (in 1971). Her name was Rebbie Victor. (She was shot by accident by another student in a prank gone terribly wrong because no one realized they were playing with a loaded gun.)
“I wrote about her in 2020 and that story really resonated with readers…
“Regards,
“Bernie Bellan
“Publisher,
“The Jewish Post & News”
Attached to Reid’s email was the text of the plaque that will be dedicated on August 16:
ARON KATZ
1951-1973
Graduating Class of 1969
Aron was an exceptional young man of great intellect and even greater courage, who in the summer of 1973 was about to begin his third year of Medicine at the University of Manitoba. He gave his life while saving his younger sister from drowning during a camping trip in the Whiteshell and was posthumously honoured for his heroism with Canada’s second highest award for bravery—The Star of Courage.
Incredibly bright, unselfish, kind and humble, Aron was the second youngest of seven children who grew up under very modest circumstances in an old wooden clapboard house on Alfred Avenue. He had an exceptional thirst for knowledge and was a valued member of St. John’s High School’s “Reach for the Top” team, a televised, academic quiz show in which the best and brightest from Winnipeg high schools competed. Aron made friends easily, loved sports and was a huge Jimi Hendrix fan. He dreamt of being a doctor one day in order to help others and had just completed the first half of his medical degree.
At their fiftieth anniversary reunion, Aron’s fellow graduating classmates from 1969 (Room 333 – The Theatre Room) decided to honour him in perpetuity with an annual scholarship in his name, recognizing a graduating student each year who best demonstrates academic promise and exhibits empathy for others; in particular, one who has shown extreme courage when faced with a significant challenge in their life. Donations were made by twenty-six members of that class, together with Aron’s five surviving siblings
Aron Katz left this world much too soon. May his memory and legacy last forever. God bless him.
The above photo from the 1969 St. John’s yearbook shows Aron Katz (seated, second from left), with the other members of the school’s Reach for the Top team, along with their two coaches.
The caption in the yearbook only gave first names and, while I recognized two of Aron’s teammates: Lenny Leven (seated to Aron’s left) and Ricky Kraut, along with Bernie Melman (standing, right), who went on to become vice-principal of Joseph Wolinsky Collegiate, I wasn’t sure who the “Harvey” in the photo was. After running an OCR program on the St. John’s yearbook, I discovered that Harvey was Harvey Koffman – who was the only Grade 10 student on the team.
I was also pretty sure that the “Mr. Carr” in the photo must have been Alex Carr, brother of Jim and Robert, but it was only after I confirmed that with Fern (Zamick) Carr, Alex’s wife, that I could write with assurance that it was indeed Alex Carr.
Interestingly, after I emailed Fern Carr, asking her about the photo, she responded with her own story about herself having been on the Gordon Bell provincial champion Reach for the Top team.
Here is what Fern wrote:
“Al taught at St. John’s from 1967 – 1999, and besides being Aron’s coach, was his chemistry teacher. I showed him the photo and it really brought back memories – thanks.
“You know, I was on the RFTT team (as a student from Gordon Bell) while Al was the St. John’s coach. We probably unknowingly were at the same tournaments together. Another coincidence is that Al’s Baba Leibe lived directly across the street from my baba and zaida on St. Anthony. We both visited our respective grandparents every Sunday, again though, before we knew each other.”
Reid Linney had also attached a brief clipping from the Canadian Press about Aron’s death:
“PINAWA, Man. (CP) – Aron Katz, 19 (Ed. note: he was actually 21), of Winnipeg, saved his 14-year-old sister Marian (Ed. note: her name was Miriam) from drowning Tuesday in Big Whiteshell Lake but lost his own life. RCMP said when the girl ran into trouble swimming, the youth pushed her to several other swimmers, then drowned.”
Once I finished reading Reid’s email, along with a couple of the attachments he sent, I set out about trying to learn as much as I could about Aron Katz. I’ve noted before that nothing resonates more with readers than learning of a young life – full of promise – snuffed out suddenly and totally unexpectedly.
Subsequently, I was able to find Aron’s obituary on newspaperarchive.com:
ARON KATZ
“On July 10, 1973 accidentally in Whiteshell Provincial Park, Aron Katz, aged 21 years, dearly beloved son of Mr. and Mrs. I. Katz of 497 Alfred Ave, and precious brother of Shirley, Dr. Saul, Matylda, Ann, Ronia (Mrs. Larry Epstein) and Miriam. Services were held July 11 at the Chesed Shel Emes and interment in the Hebrew Sick Benefit Cemetery. Aron was a third year student at the University of Manitoba Medical School. In lieu of flowers, contributions to a memorial fund may be sent to the University of Manitoba Medical School.”
I was also told that two of Aron Katz’s good friends were David Manusow and Gerald (Yosel) Minuk – both of whom had been schoolmates of Aron’s at St. John’s, also colleagues of his in medical school.
David Manusow told me that he had written a tribute to Aron on the occasion of the 50th anniversary of his St. John’s graduating class’s reunion. David sent me the text of his tribute:
Aron Katz
(1951 – 1973)
Written and delivered by David Manusow on Saturday, August 17, 2019
“This is dedicated to the memory of our dear classmate and friend, Aron Katz, who died accidentally in the Whiteshell on July 10, 1973 while saving his younger sister from drowning.
“It would be remiss of me to try to improve upon the eloquent tribute to Aron written by his sister Shirley that Danny (Bronstein) just read, but I would like to elaborate on some points, as well as share some personal reminiscences.
“Aron was the second youngest of 7 children, all academic stars, who grew up under very modest circumstances in an old, white 2-1/2 storey wooden clapboard house on Alfred Ave. (Many years later, I still recall Aron complaining that the sound of mice scurrying about in its walls interfered with his studying!)
“As you his classmates know, Aron was extremely intelligent, unselfish, kind and humble. He had a thirst for knowledge and acquitted himself well as a member of the Grade 12 ‘Reach for the Top’ team. He was also a huge fan of Jimi Hendrix and Cream.
“While we were friendly in high school, we didn’t really become close until university. We shared the same aspirations and took most of our pre-Med courses together. I can remember studying Organic Chemistry through the night with him out at the Fort Garry Campus, as well as a frigid winter evening in Kildonan Park triangulating stars for our Astronomy course. Because I didn’t have a car, Aron would pick me up in his family’s huge black 1955 Buick Roadmaster to write our exams.
“After we were both accepted into Medicine in the fall of 1971, we became even closer. We sat beside each other in lectures, and took all of our labs and spares together. We also car-pooled together that first year (along with Yosel (Minuk) and Morley Shatsky). At the end of that year, Aron bought a brand new Datsun 510 4-door sedan (navy on white) for the then-princely sum of $2,300.00. He was immensely proud of that car and loved driving it.
“With the demise of that car pool after first-year, Aron and I decided to ‘go it alone.’ “Always considerate and never one to complain, Aron travelled at least 2 miles out of his way in the opposite direction each day to take me to and from school. I have fond memories of spending the occasional Friday afternoon at the Balmoral Hotel bar with Aron, reviewing our ‘surface anatomy.’
“I can also recall when Aron and I, and his longtime sweetheart Lorraine Shapiro, celebrated after the Xmas ‘Comprehensive’ in 2nd year by going to the old downtown Met to see the movie, ‘The Stewardesses’ (in 3D, no less!). Unbeknownst to us, and much to our collective embarrassment, it turned out to be an X-rated pornographic movie that was subsequently banned. Incidentally, at least a third of our 2nd year Med School class happened to be there as well that evening, celebrating!
“Aron was an extremely good student, and at the age of 21, had just completed his 2nd year in the U of M’s Faculty of Medicine. He had spent his first and was just starting his second summer in the Medical Microbiology Dept. working on the Australia antigen/Hepatitis B virus. He enjoyed medicine and was looking forward to beginning his 3rd year in September, 1973.
“Always an avid camper, in early July Aron took his little sister Miriam camping at Big Whiteshell Lake and well, now you know all the rest. I received a call that evening from Morley Shatsky (who lived across from Aron) informing me that Aron had drowned. The next day, Aron’s only brother Saul contacted me, requesting that I be a pallbearer. It was the saddest, most emotional funeral I have ever attended.
“And thus it all ended. I would now ask that you all rise for a minute of silence to remember our dear friend and classmate, Aron Katz, a young man of great intellect and even greater courage, who left this world much too soon.
“May his memory and legacy last forever.
“Thank you.”
I also heard from Gerald (Yosel) Minuk, who told me that he had only a few things to add to what I had already gathered:
“Thanks for the opportunity to contribute to your story on Aron Katz (z”L) but I’m going to disappoint you. I’m afraid that over the past 50 years since his passing, only three of my memories remain.
“The first was as his classmate at St John’s high school where I remember being amazed (and somewhat envious) of the wide breadth and depth of his knowledge. That impression, which was shared by his classmates and the entire school, was supported by the fact that the success of the school’s ‘Reach for the Top’ team largely rested on Aron’s shoulders.
“The second memory was as a member of his university carpool where Aron would often recount with much pride the various accomplishments of his family (but never himself). “Aron was particularly proud of his older brother who I believe was in medical school at the time and went on to become a highly regarded emergency physician out east.
“Finally, as mutual members of the medical school’s Class of 75, I recall how sad it was to learn of Aron’s passing. Not only for his family but also for the discipline of Medicine itself. Aron was one of those fortunate individuals who had been gifted with both exceptional knowledge and compassion, attributes that are essential to becoming an exceptional physician.
“In closing, I might also point out the serendipity as to how Dr Eadie’s account of a drowning came to Reid’s attention. Shortly after my wife and I had purchased our cottage at Big Whiteshell lake in the early 1990’s, an elderly lady was going door to door selling an anniversary book of the lake that contained stories submitted by lake cottagers. I purchased a copy and it sat on our bookshelf for several years until my wife decided to thumb through it. On reading Dr Eadie’s submission, she asked if the story could be about my friend the medical student who had drowned while saving his sister that I had once told her about. My initial reaction was that it couldn’t be as I was under the impression that Aron had drowned at Winnipeg Beach or perhaps Gimli but on reading the story, I realized it might be Aron. So when Reid decided to pay tribute to Aron by establishing the Aron Katz Memorial Scholarship at St. John’s High School, I sent Dr. Edie’s story to Reid.” (Ed. note: Subsequent to publishing this story in the August 3 issue of The Jewish Post & News, Reid Linney was able to get in touch with Dr. Eadie’s daughter, Sheelagh. Sheelagh said that, while the story of Aron Katz’s drowning was eerily similar to the drowning about which her father wrote, it is almost certain that Dr. Eadie wrote about a drowning that occurred in 1975, not 1973.)
Features
EINSTEIN, RITA AND ME
By DAVID R. TOPPER In the early 1960s, when I was an undergraduate student majoring in Physics at Duquesne University in Pittsburgh – there was only one girl in my advanced physics classes. As I learned later, nothing much had changed since the days of Einstein. When he was studying Physics at the Polytechnic in Zurich, the physics classes were all male – except for Mileva Marić, a Serbian who was the first girl in high school ever to take a physics course in the entire Austro-Hungarian Empire. Because Switzerland was the only place where women were admitted to university classes, she was there with Albert in Zurich.
She was very smart, especially in math, and also proficient at the piano. Born with a dislocated hip, Mileva had a slight limp, and the men in the class ignored her – except for one, Albert. They became a couple and eventually married.
Back to me in my university physics classes – where it seems that little had changed for over sixty years. In my advanced classes there was only one girl. Her name was Rita. She mainly stayed to herself. Majoring in Mathematics, she took all the advanced physics courses available, right through the fourth year. In short, in those predominantly male classes, she was an anomaly – alone and ignored by her classmates.
Except me. No, I didn’t date her, yet I didn’t ignore her. During those undergraduate years, I lived at home and took a bus or a trolley to school five days a week, leaving early in the morning. The university is in downtown Pittsburgh. Walking to the campus, I first went to the Physics Department, using it as my base. From there I went to my other classes during the day. There was a small classroom in the Department that was almost always empty, especially in the morning. It could be used for individual studying or small group discussions and such. In the early morning, I was usually the only one there – except for Rita, who used it for studying, too. She often was there, even before me. Usually the conversation started by me saying something like: “Hi Rita, did you get the last problem in mechanics class homework?” Her response was invariably, “Yes.” We would go over it, with her finding my mistakes. We had an amiable relationship that never went beyond our interactions about physics – right up to the end of our university years. As far as I can remember, I don’t think I knew much about her beyond the classroom.
But one event, which I’ll never forget, stands out. It was during our last year of classes in a course on the theory of relativity. For the textbook the prof used a paperback edition of the original papers on the theory. Early in the course, we went through Einstein’s first paper of 1905 – step by step. On this particular day, the prof came in and said he had a problem with the next step in the paper. As we all sat with our books in front of us, he pointed to a certain equation where we ended in the previous class. In the next sentence, Einstein says that such and such follows. The problem for the prof was that he didn’t know how Einstein got that deduction. I looked at it, and didn’t have a clue either.
Just then, Rita’s hand went up. She said she thinks she knows how Einstein got it. The prof asked her to come up to the blackboard and show him. Rita did, and the prof said that she was right. I’m quite sure that – then and there – Rita got an A in that course, if not an A+.
That gives you some idea about Rita and my relationship with her at the time. Not a very significant part of my 4-year undergraduate years – except for this one event in a physics course.
Why then am I bringing this up now, so many years later? Here’s why.
I graduated with my BS degree in the fall of 1964. I then went to graduate school at Case Institute of Technology in Cleveland, majoring in Physics. (It’s now Case-Western Reserve University.)
When I moved there, I lived in a formerly swanky hotel on the edge of the campus, which was purchased by the university as a residence solely for graduate students. They called it The Graduate House. Eleven floors, the top 8 with suites for students, with one floor solely for female students. It was a radical experiment in co-ed living for the time.
My first day there, after getting my room and putting my things in drawers and so forth, it was late in the afternoon – and I was hungry. I had been told when I registered that the dining hall would open the following morning, but for now there was no food. However, on the third floor there were vending machines with sandwiches and such, so I went to find them.
Going down the elevator, exiting at the third floor, and walking down a hall – suddenly I heard my name called. “David, what are you doing here?” Turning around – there was Rita! It was quite a surprise for both of us. This tells you how minimally we interacted before; not even knowing that we both were going to the same graduate school.
I told her that I was majoring in Physics at Case. She, of course, was majoring in Math. After a chat about all this, I said that I was looking for the sandwich machines. She said that there was a diner nearby, and she was going there for dinner with someone else she had just met so I went, too. Thus, Rita and I reunited in Cleveland, now living in the same building.
In a short while, I made friends with a group of people in the Graduate House with diverse majors. Some were in various sciences, others in humanities. It was a lively group, with animated discussions on a range of academic topics, including politics, especially as the Vietnam War became the center of the news in the USA.
Rita was not a part of that group, but I did often see her. Being the eager student that I was, I was up early, getting to the university to study in the library before classes started. Coming to the dining room for breakfast, not long after it opened, I often saw Rita, too – all alone in a far corner. I took my tray and we had breakfast together. Except for that morning ritual, I seldom had any interactions with her.
Thinking about this now, I find the parallel morning rituals (first in Pittsburgh and then in Cleveland) a fascinating serendipitous episode in my life. The difference was that in Cleveland, we were not taking the same courses so we didn’t have to compare solutions to homework. We did talk about our respective courses, and interestingly a parallel appeared. By around mid-term of that first year in graduate school, we both were less than enthusiastic about what we were learning and, accordingly, were both thinking of not carrying on in our respective subjects.
For me it was Quantum Mechanics and the impossibility for us to know reality in itself. Everything was statistical, uncertain and almost esoteric. I found the uncritical attitude toward this world-view to be almost religious in nature. (I only learned later that Einstein felt the same way!)
For Rita, it was the same, despite the different fields. The math now was far beyond basic geometry, algebra and calculus. Topology, Group Theory, Galois’ Theory, and more – all culminating in Gödel’s Theorem, which asserts that all mathematical knowledge is inherently incomplete. It all was too esoteric for her. She knew that she was not going to get a PhD in mathematics.
We commiserated together, with another parallel in our unusual relationship, but with a difference. I still wanted to get my Master’s Degree and somehow still go on to get a job as a professor – that had been my goal in life ever since my first semester at Duquesne. Rita, however, was thinking of dropping out immediately and leaving university life altogether.
For me, this problem was resolved in my second year of Physics at Case, when I took a course taught by Martin Klein. Although he was a physicist in the Department, for many years he no longer was doing research in it. Instead, he was writing papers on the history of the subject – mainly involving Einstein, Boltzmann, Gibbs, Ehrenfest and others. Today those papers are paragons in the field. It was my extremely good luck that the department permitted him to teach such material for the first time.
I loved the course. I was enthralled by the topics – this was the way I wanted to learn physics, through its history. After getting my Master’s in Physics at the end of that year, I moved across campus to the History of Science Department. In another four years I had a PhD in the subject.
Back to early 1965: I tried to talk Rita out of dropping out, but she was adamant. The kicker was this: she really preferred numbers with $$$$ in front of them. Yes, she wanted to be an accountant. She didn’t want to waste any more time here, when she could be home getting her accounting credentials. As I recall, sometime before the spring of that year she went back to Pittsburgh. I’m sure she had an easy time getting her accounting licence and all that went with it. As she was very smart. My guess is that she was an excellent accountant and was very successful in that career.
I have no way of knowing. We didn’t keep in touch (honestly, I don’t know why not) and I can’t even remember her last name. All that I can recall is what I’ve written here. Nonetheless, I find these two interactions between Rita and me an interesting and pleasing tidbit about life and relationships – so much so that I deem it worthy of repeating here.
David R. Topper writes in Winnipeg, Canada. His work has appeared in Mono, Poetic Sun, Discretionary Love, Poetry Pacific, Academy of the Heart & Mind, Altered Reality Mag. and elsewhere.
His poem Seascape with Gulls: My Father’s Last Painting won first prize in the annual poetry contest of CommuterLit Mag – May 12, 2025.
Features
How to read fixed, daily, and progressive jackpot labels at Betscore Casino
Modern casino lobbies feature distinctive jackpot tags designed for easy recognition across various game tiles. Browsing through Bet Score, you will see that the platform uses a consistent system to present fixed, daily, and progressive jackpot displays. This brief guide explains how these labels are typically formatted, offering visual cues so you can confidently interpret each jackpot category. Betscore Casino presents these markers in a clear and recognizable way.
Across the lobby, jackpot labels act as immediate visual indicators that separate one game’s prize structure from another. These tags use bold text, simple icons, and standard placements, which makes scanning for your preferred jackpot type quick and intuitive. While game tiles may share basic design language, the wording on a label—along with visual styling such as meters or timers—lets you know at a glance whether a jackpot is static, day-specific, or incrementally building. Familiarizing yourself with these UI elements helps you compare options in Betscore Casino without clicking through each game panel. Understanding the visual symbolism of these badges saves time and keeps your focus on how casino interfaces communicate essential details about their jackpot mechanics.
Decoding fixed and daily jackpot displays in casino lobbies
When you spot a “Fixed” jackpot label in the lobby, it indicates a set prize amount displayed the same way every time you encounter it. This number stays constant, appearing directly on the game’s tile or badge and often repeating on the game’s detail page, to minimize ambiguity. The layout generally favors a clean, uncluttered presentation, with the static number supported by an icon or highlighted term that reinforces its status as unchanging. In Betscore Casino, these design choices create a straightforward reading experience where the fixed amount sits front-and-center beside the badge, making it easy to identify among multiple game tiles.
For “Daily” jackpot displays, the interface uses visual cues to highlight the time-based nature of the prize. You’ll often see the jackpot label paired with a reference to days or a timer-style icon, sometimes in the form of a calendar symbol or a clearly defined time window. These elements are usually grouped with the label and placed at the top or side of the tile so you can instantly tell that the jackpot is awarded on a daily basis. The combination of wording and visual accompaniments ensures that the daily structure stands out. This consistent tagging makes daily jackpots particularly easy to sort when scanning the available offerings.
How progressive jackpot meters stand apart and quick display checks
Within the lobby, “Progressive” jackpot labels are closely linked with animated or meter-style visual treatments. The jackpot amount is shown as an ever-increasing figure, typically larger or highlighted in a contrasting color, to draw attention to its dynamic nature. Often, the progressive badge sits beside or above this meter, so the relationship between label and rolling number is obvious and direct. In Betscore Casino, this design philosophy visually distinguishes progressive jackpots from fixed or daily options at a glance, creating an immediate sense of anticipation around the changing prize amount each time you browse the lobby.
When identifying jackpot types quickly, three main cues make reading the tags straightforward. Fixed jackpots always feature a stable, non-animated number next to their badge, keeping things simple and clear. Daily jackpots consistently add a day-based timeframe indicator, which could be text or a countdown, usually positioned close to the label for easy association. Progressive jackpots, by contrast, are marked by a running total or animated meter, making them stand out as prize amounts increase. Paying attention to these conventions, you’ll find it much easier to compare options and navigate the jackpot categories provided with confidence and efficiency.
Features
Some random thoughts on the AMIA bombing, Operation Solomon, Arab migration to Palestine, and Jeffrey Epstein
By BERNIE BELLAN When I received an email from an Ethiopian Jew who is now living in Winnipeg who reminded me of the incredible efforts made by so many different people to help rescue Ethiopia’s Jewish population and bring them to Israel during Operation Solomon in 1991 (Operation Solomon) I began to ask myself why that particular event doesn’t get paid more attention within our own Jewish community here?
Recently our community held another commemoration of the AMIA bombing in 1994 in Buenos Aires, which claimed the lives of 85 people (not all Jewish) and injured over 300. Each year B’nai Brith holds a solemn ceremony during which 85 candles are lit and the names of the deceased are read out.
Yes, that was a horrific tragedy, but I wonder how much it still resonates with people. There have been so many other horrible events since that AMIA bombing, including of course the massacre of October 7, but more recently there was also the Bondi Beach attack in Australia last December, during which 15 people were killed and 40 injured. Are we also going to have commemorative events held here in Winnipeg going forward to mark that particular event?
Compare the solemnity with which tragic events such as the AMIA bombing and the October 7 massacre are remembered with the total lack of celebration of something that should be as uplifting as was Operation Solomon. Could it be because Operation Solomon happened in far away Africa and the people who were rescued were black – and seemed so foreign to those of us who can even remember what happened in 1991? I don’t know whether there’s an element of racism involved in the lack of recognition anywhere of Operation Solomon, but I thought it most interesting when I was rereading articles in The Jewish Post & News written by the one individual in our Jewish community who did more to help in the rescue of Ethiopian Jews than anyone else – the late Elliot Levine, and Levine noted the total lack of support from the Winnipeg Jewish Community Council for what was known as “The Committee for Ethiopian Jews,” I couldn’t help but wonder how much race has played a part in sidelining Operation Solomon as a momentous event in the recent history of the Jewish people.
When one considers how much attention is paid to the AMIA bombing, which affected people who, simply put, look more like us, to the lack of attention paid to Operation Solomon – well, I think you get my point.
The Ethiopian Jewish community now living in Israel has had a difficult time being accepted by mainstream Israelis, but over the years many members of that community have made significant contributions to Israeli society and the more recent descendants of the original Jews who were brought to Israel are now proud Israelis. It would be nice for our own community to hold some sort of event to mark Operation Solomon, since it is now the 35th year since that momentous achievement occurred.
Speaking of past achievements, the furor over the Nakba exhibit at the Canadian Museum for Human Rights has continued to spark heated discussion. I’ve received a number of emails from various members of our community responding to articles I’ve written about the Nakba exhibit (and in some cases articles written by others that have appeared in the Jewish Post). I don’t mind admitting that I’m not at all sure where I stand on the whole issue of the Nakba exhibit. I can see the merits of arguments that have been made on both sides of the issue and I try to keep an open mind as I hear different perspectives. But, no matter what argument is being made, I encourage everyone to listen to what people have to say and think carefully about the pros and cons of the particular points being made.
As I noted in an earlier column, rather than descending into an argument over which group has a more valid reason to feel aggrieved – Palestinians who were forced to leave their homes in Palestine (and I’m not going to debate whether the majority left willingly or not; that’s an issue that will never be resolved to anyone’s satisfaction) or Jews who were forced to leave their homes in Arab lands, I’d rather concentrate on thinking about where can we go from here?
Unfortunately, the clear consensus in Israel now seems to be that there can never be a Palestinian state and even those politicians who might have been willing to enter into at least some sort of discussion about the possible creation of a Palestinian state have moved so far to the right – in response to the clear shift in public opinion in Israel that sees no room for even contemplating a Palestinian state, that the issue of a future Palestinian state has been completely taken off the table.
At the same time though, as much as I’m generally sympathetic to the Palestinian aspiration to have a state of their own, just as I prefer to refer to historical evidence when it comes to debating what actually happened during the “Nakba,” I also like to look at the evidence surrounding just how many true Palestinians there are.
By that, I mean how many people who call themselves Palestinians can trace their roots back to the actual land which can be referred to as “Palestine.” Remember that there was no such thing as “Palestine” per se until the British Mandate over Palestine began officially in 1923. Prior to that what we now regard as “Palestine” was simply part of the Ottoman Empire.
According to figures compiled by one of the pre-eminent experts on demographic in the Ottoman Empire, Professor Justin McCarthy, there were approximately 500,000 Arabs in what is referred to as Palestine at the turn of the 20th Century, while there were approximately 23,000 Jews.
By 1945 the Arab population of Palestine had grown by over 600,000 to approximately 1,100,000 while the Jewish population had grown to over 550,000. There is much debate over whether a good part of the increase in the Arab population was due to the surge in economic activity brought on by the influx of Jews, but let’s leave that argument aside for the moment. A point that I made in another column about the Arab population of Palestine at the time when Israel was declared a state is that approximately 750,000 Arabs left what had been Palestine – but whether they left voluntarily or not was irrelevant to me. What was relevant to me, I emphasized, was that there could not have been a “Jewish” state with a majority Arab population.
I have heard nothing from those who would criticize the Nakba exhibit at the CMHR about that point.
Again – as I noted previously, I’m not arguing the morality of what happened to the Palestinians; I’m simply making the observation that Israel could not have come about had those 750,000 Arabs who did leave had chosen to stay. I don’t suppose my making that point makes one whit of difference to anyone who is criticizing the CMHR exhibit. I just wanted to reiterate my support for looking at what happened in 1948 objectively. And I’m well aware that even suggesting that one can be “objective” about such a contentious issue is up for debate – but can’t we even try for a little objectivity?
Finally, what about Jeffrey Epstein – and what’s he got to do with everything I’ve just written?
Well, it was the persistently nagging questions surrounding Epstein’s relationship with Trump that led directly to Trump deciding to join in with Netanyahu and attack Iran. Trump was desperate to “change the channel,” especially when so many of his diehard MAGA supporters kept asking questions about why Trump was so keen to put the Epstein issue aside. So now Trump is caught up in a war that he thought would divert attention from Epstein, but the most likely scenario is that he’ll end up trying to bring the war to a conclusion by ceding control over the Hormuz Strait to Iran and abandoning the notion of forcing Iran to give up its quest for a nuclear weapon. And if the only way to reduce Trump’s march toward total authoritarianism is to elect enough Democrats to at least take over the House of Representatives then what we’re going to see is a bunch of “woke” Democrats in Congress who will be wanting to end American support for Israel – and, they’ll be pushing for a Palestinian state.
Thank you, Jeffrey Epstein, for being the cause of this whole mess.
