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25 years after opening, Yiddish Book Center overhauls its core exhibit for a wider audience

AMHERST, Massachusetts (JTA) — Since its opening in 1997, the Yiddish Book Center has wowed visitors with its architecture. A Jewish village resurrected on a college campus in sylvan Amherst, Massachusetts, the building conveys the Center’s mission: to rescue and revive a language spoken for over 1,000 years by Ashkenazi Jews in German-speaking lands, Eastern Europe and wherever they migrated. 

On Oct. 15, the Center is unveiling a new core exhibit, meant to flesh out and deepen the story told by its building and the treasures stored inside. Arriving at a moment when Yiddish is experiencing one of its periodic revivals, “Yiddish: A Global Culture” is a major Yiddish institution’s answer to a question without easy answers: How do you tell the story of a language without a country, and of a culture that lost a majority of its purveyors in a little over a decade of madness?

In response, the new exhibit depicts the “secular” Yiddish culture that arose in the mid-19th century as a distinctly transglobal, modern movement that includes theater, the press, mass market publishing and intellectual ferment in big cities from Warsaw to New York to Shanghai.

The exhibit is “foregrounding a story of creativity, tremendous accomplishment and tremendous diversity of a culture that has migration built into its DNA,” David Mazower, the Center’s research bibliographer and the exhibition’s chief curator, told me when I visited Amherst last month.

The displays in the exhibit will surround and weave in and out of the Center’s book stacks, another striking architectural feature of the building. The stacks offer duplicates of the Center’s collection of 1.5 million Yiddish books and periodicals, for sale and browsing. I couldn’t be the first visitor to be reminded of the closing scene in “Raiders of the Lost Ark,” which reveals a colossal government warehouse filled with, in the words of the screenplay, “crates and crates. All looking alike. All gathering dust.” 

What a casual visitor might not see is all that is happening at the Center to blow the dust off those books, including translator workshops, summer fellowships, conferences, an oral history project, a busy publishing program and a riotous summer music festival.

Interest in all of those activities has been helped along by young Jews interested in the language and culture and a pandemic that created a demand for online Yiddish classes. The Yiddish Book Center has been drawing 10,000 visitors a year since its pandemic shutdown. The New York Times made the latest revival official (to non-readers of the Jewish media, anyway) in an essay last month by the Jewish polymath Ilan Stavans, declaring that “Yiddish Is Having a Moment.” Stavans notes a flurry of new translations of obscure and classic Yiddish writers, the all-Yiddish staging of “Fiddler on the Roof” and the Yiddish dialogue in three recent Netflix series: “Shtisel,” “Unorthodox” and “Rough Diamonds.”

A mural featuring key moments in the global history of Yiddish is a central feature of a new core exhibit at the Yiddish Book Center in Amherst, Massachusetts. (JTA photo)

(More controversially, Stavans also reports that Yiddish is appealing to those — presumably young anti-Zionist Jews — for whom Hebrew “symbolizes far-right Israeli militarism.”)

Such a revival also challenges keepers of the flame — not just the Yiddish Book Center, but the YIVO Institute for Jewish Research in New York, The Workers Circle, publications like In geveb and the Yiddish Forward, academic departments plus a host of regional Yiddish organizations — to define a language and culture that means many different things to many different people.

Is it a language of a decimated past? A progenitor of the Jewish left? A tongue, still spoken daily by haredi Orthodox Jews, that continues to grow and evolve? Is it an attitude — a Jewish way of being and thinking — that survives in humor and cooking and music even if those who appreciate it can’t speak the language? For European Jews of the Enlightenment, the Yiddish scholar Jeffrey Shandler reminded me a few years ago, “Yiddish represented the resistance and inability of Jews to enter the cultural mainstream. It represented something atavistic, a way of holding Jews back.” For Zionists, meanwhile, it represented a weak Diaspora and everything associated with it (a clash explored in a current YIVO exhibit, “Palestinian Yiddish:  A Look at Yiddish in the Land of Israel Before 1948”).

Goldie Morgenthaler, herself the daughter of the Yiddish writer Chava Rosenfarb, has written that she teaches Yiddish literature to mostly non-Jewish university students in Alberta, Canada because “studying what is specific to one culture is often the first step to understanding many cultures.”

At YIVO, an institution founded by scholars in Vilna in 1925 and transplanted to New York in 1940, Yiddish is regarded as an expression of and vehicle for “Jewish pride,” according to its executive director and CEO, Jonathan Brent.

“For Jewish people in the Diaspora to understand that they have in fact a future as Jews,” he said last week, “they have to take pride in their heritage. For all kinds of historical reasons, many Jews felt that [Yiddish] was somehow a shameful or devalued heritage. It was ‘zhargon’ [jargon], and it had been basically eliminated from public discourse in the land of Israel. YIVO from the very beginning wanted to study Yiddish as a language among languages, the same way you studied Russian or Spanish or French. It was a language with a history.

David Mazower, the Yiddish Book Center’s research bibliographer and the exhibition’s chief curator, shows off a samovar to be used in a recreation of the Warsaw literary salon of writer I.L. Peretz. (JTA photo)

“What Yiddish does,” he continued, “is help anchor us in the language in which our grandparents and great grandparents communicated their deepest thoughts and feelings. And that has real implications for the survival of the Jewish people.”

Aaron Lansky, the founder and president of the Yiddish Book Center, said the story he wants to tell goes back to his days as a graduate student in Yiddish at McGill University in the 1970s, when he first started saving the discarded books that would become the core of the Center’s collection.

“People think of [Yiddish] as this nostalgic creation,” he said. “But the truth is, it was a profound, multifaceted and really global literature that emerged in the late 19th century, and then just took off throughout the 20th century…. It wasn’t long before writers were using every form of literary expression — expressionism, impressionism, surrealism, eroticism. It all found expression in this very short period of time, and even the Holocaust didn’t destroy it. “

Lansky admits his own vision is more literary than the core exhibit’s, and thanked Mazower for creating a broader view of Yiddish as a global culture.

That view is represented in a 60-foot mural that serves as an introduction to the exhibit. Cartoons by the German illustrator Martin Haake depict key historical vignettes in Yiddish history, from nearly every continent. Glikl of Hameln, a German-Jewish businesswoman, writes her diaries at the turn of the 18th century. Women call for a strike at “Yanovsky’s Cigarette Factory” in Bialystok, Poland, in 1901. A nursery scene honors the leading Yiddish activists who were born in Displaced Persons camps after World War II. And tubercular Yiddish writers are seen recovering at the Jewish Consumptive Relief Society in Denver, Colorado, which operated from 1904 to 1940. 

The mural lines the ramp that leads to the bookshelves, where displays (some of which Mazower calls “wedges”) use artifacts and wall-mounted photos to talk about the breadth of Yiddish culture. There’s a display about Yiddish celebrities, including writers, such as Sholom Aleichem and Chaim Zhitlowsky, who would draw tens of thousands of mourners to their funerals. Another display honors those who preserved and studied Yiddish culture, from YIVO (described here as “The Mothership”) to the monumental “Language and Cultural Atlas of Ashkenazic Jewry” undertaken between 1959 and 1972 by the linguist Uriel Weinreich. A Yiddish linotype machine, rescued by Lansky, anchors an exhibit about the Jewish press.

Michal Michalesko (center) and chorus appear in a publicity photo from an unidentified production, ca. 1930. Michalesko (1884–1957) made his name in the 1910s as a star of the Warsaw Yiddish operetta stage. (Yiddish Book Center)

A centerpiece of the core exhibit is a recreation of the Warsaw literary salon of the writer and playwright I.L. Peretz, a leading figure of the late 19th century and early 20th centuries. While few actual artifacts belonging to Peretz survive, the room will include contemporaneous objects and photographs to immerse visitors in the literary scene of the day. 

“You’ll step through his doorway the way that so many young writers did, clutching their first manuscripts to show them either in Hebrew or in Yiddish,” Mazower explained. “His name, his address was known throughout the Russian Empire at that time. People would come thousands of miles in some cases to Warsaw to try and get entry into this alchemy-like space where extraordinary things happen.”

One of those pilgrims was Mazower’s great-grandfather, the famed playwright Sholem Asch. When Asch showed Peretz a draft of his notorious play “God of Vengeance,” whose lesbian subplot would shock audiences and rile religious leaders, Peretz reportedly told him to burn it. 

“My hope is that through the exhibition as a whole you see Jewish history through a Yiddish lens and in a different way from the Holocaust-defined story that so many of us have been educated with and that popular culture feeds us,” said Mazower. 

A Yiddish book features a stamp for a bookseller in Cairo, demonstrating the global reach of the language. (JTA photo)

The exhibit treats the Holocaust as one part of the Yiddish story, not its culmination. The original Yiddish edition of Elie Wiesel’s “Night,” published as part of a memorial project in Argentina shortly after the war, rests in a wedge about individuals who rescued Yiddish culture under the Nazis. The same section features a tribute to Rokhl Brokhes, a writer murdered in the Minsk Ghetto in 1945. A still from a recent animated adaptation of one of her stories by Alona Bach, currently a PhD student at MIT focusing on the “intersections of electricity and Yiddish,” affirms one of the Center’s aims: to bring young Yiddishists into conversation with the past.

The story of Yiddish theater will wrap around the auditorium, starting with a large photo of the audience at the opening of the Grand Street Theatre in New York in 1905. A memorial section remembers the probably thousands of actors, playwrights and musicians who were killed in the Holocaust.

“Had Yiddish theater not suffered a rupture, which it did, it would have continued to evolve and borrow and expand,” said Lisa Newman, the Center’s director of publishing and public programs. “What’s so important about this exhibition is that it places Yiddish in this context of language no less than any other country’s, except it’s not a country.” 

I asked Mazower what kind of stories he did not want to tell about Yiddish culture.

“It’s not a story about Yiddish humor,” he said. “It’s not a story about the Holocaust. It’s not a story about the state of Israel. It’s not a lachrymose story about Jewish persecution through the ages.”

Other Yiddishists told me much the same thing (Brent said that the story of Yiddish “shouldn’t be told as a collection of jokes, or Yiddish curses, or as a cute language that connects you to Bubbe’s gefilte fish”). 

And yet, said Lansky, “We’re not feinschmeckers, we’re not elitist when it comes to Yiddish. Yiddish was a vernacular language, and I am happy to embrace that. I love the humor and social criticism that’s embedded in it. It’s the aggregate that’s so impressive. To see all of this literature and culture in a lively and accessible way can be quite transformative.”


The post 25 years after opening, Yiddish Book Center overhauls its core exhibit for a wider audience appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.

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House of Commons tables report on antisemitism with recommendations for Canadian universities

The House of Commons has tabled a comprehensive report addressing antisemitism on Canadian university campuses, presenting 19 recommendations for federal, provincial, and institutional action.

Issued on Dec. 10, the report emphasizes the enforcement of campus codes of conduct, the prevention of hate speech, and the provision of antisemitism education through organizations that recognize the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA) definition of antisemitism.

It also calls for universities to unequivocally denounce antisemitism, uphold academic freedom, and oppose anti-Israel movements such as Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions (BDS).

Additional measures include the creation of a national anti-hate fund, enhanced police training on hate crimes, and funding for Holocaust education that incorporates modern-day antisemitism.

Federal recommendations propose establishing a national review committee to assess the impact of campus antisemitism, creating specialized prosecution roles for hate crimes, and ensuring that Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion (EDI) frameworks include Jewish identity. The report also suggests banning symbols of terrorist organizations, standardizing definitions for hate crimes, and ensuring that Zionists have fair access to public spaces.

Montreal MP Anthony Housefather, who initiated the Justice Committee hearings earlier this year and serves as the special advisor to the prime minister and cabinet on Canada’s Jewish community, expressed hope that the unanimous report will inform both federal and provincial governments on ways to address rising antisemitism in Canada.

Housefather and Deborah Lyons, the special envoy on Holocaust remembrance and combating antisemitism, spent the summer consulting with university administrators and Jewish campus organizations to develop recommendations aimed at enhancing the safety of Jewish students.

Housefather told The Canadian Jewish News that, while challenges persist, there has been progress: “While there have been a lot of problems we’ve had on campuses, we have not had encampments [this past semester],” he said, adding that “the codes of conduct have been enforced better at most universities.”

Pro-Palestinian groups established encampments at many Canadian universities last spring and summer, and in some cases were removed only after court injunctions or by police.

Canadian universities, such as Concordia and McGill, saw intensifying animosity by anti-Israel groups throughout the last year, with demonstrators carrying out violence, verbal threats, and property destruction at both Montreal campuses.

Schools such as the University of Calgary saw anti-Israel protesters trapping Jewish students in a lecture hall in November during a talk with former Israeli spokesperson Eylon Levy.

Abuse of podium infractions have occurred at schools such as York University and University of Toronto, where teachers have called Zionism a form of social violence and have expressed anti-Israel views to students.

Lyons expressed the critical need for action in the House of Commons report. “When our Jewish citizens are targeted, it threatens the democratic ideals of equality and justice for all Canadians,” she said. “We pride ourselves on being a diverse and inclusive multicultural society. In this moment, we are being put to the test. It is not an overreach to say that our shared humanity is at stake.”

In the report’s introduction, Nati Pressman, founder of Canadian Union of Jewish Students, is also quoted. “Across the country, Jewish students who used to wear Jewish symbols, like the Magen David, now hide them as they walk past protests, including my friends who used to wear kippot, who now instead wear baseball caps going to class. This is not because we are any less proud to be Jewish, but because our universities have allowed an environment where being openly Jewish could be a threat to our safety,” she said.

The dissenting report from Conservative members of the Standing Committee on Justice and Human Rights emphasizes a “disturbing and unprecedented rise in antisemitism and hate crimes” under Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s government. It highlights a 165 percent increase in hate crimes since Trudeau took office, with 5,791 antisemitic incidents recorded in 2023 alone, following the Oct. 7, 2023, terror attacks in Israel.

The report stresses that “Jewish Canadians have the right to live in safety and without fear,” and calls for a unified response to combat violence, discrimination, and hatred.

While supporting most of the recommendations in the main report, the Conservative MPs argue that the Liberal government’s current approach to addressing antisemitism “is not working.”

They offer additional recommendations to strengthen Canada’s efforts, citing witness testimony and firsthand experience. “To protect our communities and uphold the values of equality and respect, it is imperative that we take decisive action against groups and ideologies that promote violence, hatred, and division,” says the dissenting report.

The post House of Commons tables report on antisemitism with recommendations for Canadian universities appeared first on The Canadian Jewish News.

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Now it’s time to review the 75-writer anthology called ‘On Being Jewish Now’

Perhaps the woman behind the book On Being Jewish Now is a bit like Philip Roth after all.

It was a whole lot easier to be a post-parochialism Jew prior to Oct. 7. Zibby Owens, a leading American bookfluencer—and author, and publisher, and more—had not “disproportionately” sought out Jewish books. So she explains in the introduction to the anthology she just edited, which she is promoting this week in Toronto with a Holy Blossom Temple event featuring Indigo CEO Heather Reisman.

Back then, as far as Owens was concerned, “A book was a book was a book.”

And then Oct. 7 happened and she was moved to action. She edited an anthology which benefits a non-profit she started, Artists Against Antisemitism. I say Owens did this but there are teams credited alongside. This is a group effort. There is staff. It is a book. It is also, in a sense, a fundraising pamphlet that happens to exist in book form, which means that to review it is also to take that into account. This is more complicated than you might think.

I like to do book reviews with an open mind. If you’re someone I have a close personal relationship with or, conversely, had some kind of falling out with (though no one is coming to mind for the latter), I’m not reviewing your book. But I’m not a robot, and will often have a pre-existing conception of an author and their work. Maybe I like their writing generally, or don’t. Maybe we’ve had nice interactions online, maybe less-nice. But I will just pick the thing up and see what it is.

This was put to the test by my having already angered one contributor to On Being Jewish Now enough that I received the first-to-my-knowledge video-format criticism of something I’d written. Or at least the only one that included a face-powder-application interlude before cutting to the chase.

It was bad form, you see, to write a book review of a book I hadn’t even read. I suppose it would have been… which is why I did nothing of the kind. I do review books for The Canadian Jewish News, plenty of ‘em, but that essay wasn’t a book review. It was a lengthy essay about Jewish literature in which I briefly mentioned the existence of On Being Jewish Now, as a thing that exists in the world. This is an extremely normal thing to do, but tell that to Instagram.

Well. Face-powder-gate—paired with the offer of a galley—brought it right up to the top of the pile. My curiosity was piqued.

Here’s another important angle, at least I think it is: This could be a case of biases cancelling each other out, as I am, like the contributors, a Jew who’s troubled by post-Oct. 7 antisemitism, and who cares about the continued existence of Israel. I am an author and essayist (“artist” might be pushing it) with skin in the game, as well as an opinion writer and podcaster with a pretty decent track record if I may say so of covering incidents of literary antisemitism specifically. It was a bit jarring to find that I had become enemy du jour of a bunch of people with give or take my own views on the issue at hand. It had an element of, you got the wrong guy!

So, without further ado: I have read every page of On Being Jewish Now. Hadn’t then, have now. What I wrote previously was not a review of it. What follows is one—even if it may not be the kind of write-up that my detractors were wishing for.

***

As the title suggests, On Being Jewish Now prompted contributors—American, for the most part—to write essays foregrounding not just the Jewish aspects of their lives, but the way this shifted after Oct. 7. There are, one presumes, Jews who felt plenty Jewish prior, and still do. Also Jews who were exclusively thinking about sports betting or nail art or differential equations in the beforetimes and who have not changed their routines. But Jewishness is now more central for many of us, in ways that are hard to articulate. The book is an effort to articulate those, and to tell Jews who feel weird at the moment that they—we—are not alone.

A lot of it was relatable: the anxieties over public pronouncements of Jewishness, ones that would not have occurred to me on Oct. 6. If my kid wore Hanukkah pyjamas on pyjama day, what would happen? (Nothing happens when my kids wear these outside, which they do, often, and in a neighbourhood pretty darn committed to the freeing of Palestine.) There is something maddening, in the sense of insanity-inducing, about anxiety that feels simultaneously founded and unfounded. 

It is also about the ambiguity of Jewish visibility, for Jews who are not in observant garb. The star-of-David necklace—whether someone would or would not feel comfortable wearing one, how one feels when spotting one on someone else—figures prominently. In her essay, Rabbi Rebecca Keren Eisenstadt Jablonski mentions some Jews responding to Oct. 7 by putting up a mezuzah, others by taking theirs down. This succinctly sums up the weirdness of our moment. 

A range of religious observance levels and trajectories on that front are represented, but this is not—a la the recent child-sized essay book What Jewish Looks Like—a collection that gives the impression that the typical North American Jew is member of a visible (unambiguously non-white) minority group. There are nods to geographic and racial diversity (socioeconomic, not so much; getting to this), but it is for the most part stories of Ashkenazi Jews in parts of the United States where many Jews live. This seems entirely appropriate. 

It nevertheless borrows from the language of ‘woke’—“trauma” used to describe things that did not happen to you personally, Jewish joy, holding space, things of that nature. It positions Jewish literature in the same way that Palestinian literature is positioned now, and that various other groups’ literatures have at moments where their oppression was the current news story. Someone I was discussing the book with described it—not derisively, just descriptively—as right-wing, and I had to say I wasn’t sure if that’s it. It defies that kind of categorization.

A lot is about online life, both because that’s how we live now, and because of how recent lockdowns were. Former Real Housewife of New York Jill Zarin explains that she “lost about 30,000 followers” on social media for posting about antisemitism. It’s unclear how she knows this—people don’t generally send you a note when they unfollow, which is assuming we’re talking people, not bots, to begin with—but, maybe? 

The aforementioned Aliza Licht’s essay, “Being a Jewish Activist Wasn’t on Brand for Me,” describes a different experience: “People warned me that I would lose followers by [posting pro-Israel and anti-antisemitism content]. I’ve more than doubled my following.” Licht, whose three-paragraph bio explains that she is, among other things, “a personal branding expert,” is, without a question, an expert on personal branding. Points for self-awareness.

On Being Jewish Now is a remarkably polished and well-packaged effort, given the time frame. But the writing quality varies tremendously. American-Israeli author Ilana Kurshan’s moving essay about a pre-school world travel game in wartime Israel sits alongside the serious-topic-addressing but not particularly insightful musings of a writer whose job is “Chief Grief Officer®,” the registered-trademark symbol a part of her title. 

The essays are grouped into thematic sections, with one on humour called, “You Have to Laugh.” While I’m sure the writers therein have made people laugh elsewhere, it’s a mix of essays that don’t appear to be going for comedy (a sweet remembrance of New York Jewish garment-industry and discount-shopping of yore ends with an it-can-happen-here epiphany) and ones that gesture at Jewish-humour tropes without really landing, like a joke about observing the Sabbath “except” if “[t]here’s a sale at Bergdorf’s.” 

Some of the essays themselves read like ad copy. “American Girl Dolls and Jewish Joy,” by a co-creator of the dolls ($161 USD a doll) with a 1990s Jewish theme. And it’s like, I’m not mad at the dolls, I don’t object to their existence, but I suppose I do object to the idea that to properly fight antisemitism I am to read about how wonderful they are. 

The well-known writer Daphne Merkin’s description of her stance regarding the Middle East itself made sense, and is the unspoken undercurrent to many of the essays. In effect, to oppose anti-Jewish hatred locally, you don’t need to have any particular stance or comprehension level where Israel’s military actions are concerned. Being awful to Jews locally isn’t just wrong on its own, but does not make life better for Palestinians. A point that cannot be repeated enough.

***

The format is unusual in that the bios are quite lengthy (as in, a third of the essay may be its bio), and appear immediately after each one, rather than in a separate author-bios section at the end. Amy Ephron (sister of the late Nora) manages hers in two sentences, a rare exception. The ratio of bio to essay is remarkable and therefore a reviewer would be remiss to not remark on it. 

The bios are not particularly connected with the On Being Jewish Now theme, apart from the fact that they are about people who are being Jewish now. Some read like longform LinkedIn profiles, including not just comprehensively detailed accolades but info like where a seasoned professional went to college. 

Others involve cozy asides, often featuring rambunctious canines: “When not writing, she is making art, listening to lo-fi on vinyl, fangirling theater, and otherwise being grateful for her life with her husband, two grown daughters, and too spoiled dogs.” Or: “When not working, she enjoys playing tennis and pickleball and spending time with family and friends, including her adorable Pomeranian, Bossi.” Another “is a proud single mom to two incredible kids, one poorly trained dog, and two cats.” Another: “She lives in Westchester, New York, with her husband, four children, and two very bossy dogs.” 

Having owned and loved a bossy dog, as a reader, I get it. As a book reviewer, however, I need to make sense of the function this sort of information is serving. 

An ungenerous read would be that this is an unpaid effort and the extended bio was a kind of compensation—a chance to self-promote, or self-indulge. 

A more generous one: this is about emphasizing the humanity of Jews. See, Jews are just normal people who love their pets! (Something I would not dispute.) 

The bios explain that these are not ordinary Jews but ones with standing in mainstream society. They bios say, in effect, it might feel like everyone in a position of cultural influence is posting Free Palestine, but not everyone-everyone! Look at all these bestselling authors, who are proudly Team Jews! The bios serve, collectively, as a point about American Jewish achievement. 

Whatever the reason or reasons for the long and prominently placed bios, they have the effect of making what might otherwise have read like an essay collection read instead like a Rolodex.  

***

On Being Jewish Now is not merely an attempt at capturing what it’s like to be Jewish these days. It’s raising money for a new non-profit, a 501(c)(3), the tax code for a type of American good-works endeavour, one with the hard-to-argue-with moniker, Artists Against Antisemitism. I spent a while on its website trying to figure out what Artists Against Antisemitism are offering, and the publicly available offerings seem primarily to consist of outbound links to other organizations and the recommendation that people read books such as David Baddiel’s Jews Don’t Count, and information on how to donate to or volunteer for Artists Against Antisemitism, as well as an auction with money going to Artists Against Antisemitism. Per the description on its own website, “The money we raise through donations goes to running our organization and developing projects like awareness-raising campaigns, resource guides, community arts projects, celebrations, etc.” 

I spent a good long while on this website and could not figure out what the organization does-does, if that makes sense, so I emailed Owens to ask more about the organization’s initiatives. I got a response from Jill Santopolo, a founding member of Artists Against Antisemitism, pointing me to, among other things, a virtual (online) art gallery hosted by TheArtistsAgainstAntisemitism.com, and an Instagram-hosted (online) event promoting Jewish romance authors

As best as I can understand, Artists Against Antisemitism thus far consists mainly in the realm of content creation and aggregation, with an awareness-raising component. It is not literary-award-allotting organization a la the Giller Prize, but rather the sort of charity that auctions off an acrylic painting of Ruth Bader Ginsburg or some online face time with Mayim Bialik.

Here is where a point must be made—one with uh broader applicability—about the need to look critically even at charitable endeavours whose names and missions we agree with. In some cases, this means investigating flows of funds. In this case, however, it’s about questioning whether awareness-raising initiatives have the intended impact. How has the bureaucratic apparatus established in recent years to address other forms of bigotry worked out? At a moment when other forms of DEI are coming under “scrutiny,” is extending DEI to the Jewish cause the best path forward?

I read through the handbook for bookstores looking to avoid antisemitism, and while it contains useful practical information about Jewish holidays and what to do if aggressive sorts are going to lose their minds because your bookstore dared platform A Zionist, it mostly reads like DEI but inclusive of Jews. Bookstores are asked to “Celebrate Jewish American Heritage Month in May” and then “Celebrate Jewish Book Month the month before Chanukah” and also to “Promote Jewish authors in intersectional displays (i.e. Women’s History Month).” 

Along the same lines, Project Shema, an Artists Against Antisemitism-recommended—and auction-supported—“training and support organization” that was “built by progressive Jews,” operates under the assumption that bringing in educators will deprogram antisemites in a workplace or campus, and is the best use of finite resources. But it is not the role of journalists to say, well, they clearly mean well, and leave it at that.

The CJN’s opinion editor Phoebe Maltz Bovy can be reached at pbovy@thecjn.ca, not to mention @phoebebovy on Bluesky, and @bovymaltz on X. She is also on The CJN’s weekly podcast Bonjour ChaiFor more opinions about Jewish culture wars, subscribe to the free Bonjour Chai newsletter on Substack.

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Blinken Lays Out US Hopes for Syria’s Political Transition

A drone view shows Umayyad square in Damascus, after Syrian rebels ousted President Bashar al-Assad, Syria, Dec. 10, 2024. Photo: REUTERS/Mahmoud Hassano

The United States on Tuesday laid out its hopes for Syria’s political transition following President Bashar al-Assad’s ouster, saying it would recognize a future Syrian government that amounts to a credible, inclusive, and non-sectarian governing body.

It is the clearest definition outlined by Washington since Syria’s opposition militias overthrew Assad in a shockingly fast takeover after 13 years of civil war. Assad and his family fled to Russia.

The Biden administration, along with governments in the region and the West, has been scrambling to find ways to engage with the Syrian rebel groups including leading rebel faction Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS), a group formerly allied with Al Qaeda and which is designated a terrorist organization by the US, European Union, Turkey, and the UN.

Blinken’s statement did not mention HTS but made repeated emphasis on the need for any future Syrian government to be inclusive and respect the rights of minorities while ensuring that Syria is not used as a base for terrorism.

“This transition process should lead to credible, inclusive, and non-sectarian governance that meets international standards of transparency and accountability, consistent with the principles of United Nations Security Council Resolution 2254,” Blinken said.

“The United States will recognize and fully support a future Syria government that results from this process,” he added.

The United States cut diplomatic ties with Syria and shut down its embassy in Damascus in 2012.

Washington in 2013 designated HTS leader Ahmed al-Sharaa, better known as Abu Mohammed al-Golani a terrorist, saying al Qaeda in Iraq had tasked him with overthrowing Assad’s rule and establishing Islamic sharia law in Syria. It said the Nusra Front, the predecessor of HTS, carried out suicide attacks that killed civilians and espoused a violent sectarian vision.

The transition process and the new Syrian government should also facilitate the flow of humanitarian assistance to all in need, and ensure that any chemical or biological weapons stockpiles are safely destroyed, Blinken added.

US President Joe Biden and his top aides described the moment as a historic opportunity for the Syrian people who have for decades lived under the oppressive rule of Assad but also warned the country faced a period of risk and uncertainty.

Meanwhile, a top White House official said on Tuesday that US troops will be staying in Syria after the fall of Assad as part of a counter-terrorism mission focused on destroying Islamic State terrorists.

“Those troops are there for a very specific and important reason, not as some sort of bargaining chip,” US Deputy National Security Advisor Jon Finer said in an interview at the Reuters NEXT conference in New York.

US troops “have been there now for the better part of a decade or more to fight ISIS … we are still committed to that mission.”

Asked directly whether US troops are staying, Finer said, “Yes.”

Separately, State Department spokesperson Matthew Miller said on Tuesday that the US has asked HTS to help locate and free missing American journalist Austin Tice as it liberates the country’s prisons in the aftermath of Assad’s overthrow.

Washington is telling all parties in Syria that Tice, who was abducted in Syria in 2012, is a top US priority, Miller told a press briefing.

“In all of our communications with parties that we know talk to HTS, we have sent very clearly the message that as they move through Syria liberating prisons, that our top priority is the return of Austin Tice,” he said.

“We want anyone who’s operating on the ground in Syria to be on the lookout for him, and if they do find him, to return to him to us safely as soon as possible.”

The post Blinken Lays Out US Hopes for Syria’s Political Transition first appeared on Algemeiner.com.

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