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A group of Israeli emissaries toured a Palestinian museum in DC, and came away with questions
WASHINGTON (JTA) — For Rotem Yerushalmi, a professional campus pro-Israel advocate, what stood out during a recent visit to the Museum of the Palestinian People was an exhibit showcasing different villages’ ceremonial dress.
She strolled past references to the Nakba, which means “catastrophe” and denotes the dispersion of Palestinians during Israel’s War of Independence. And she gazed upon a photograph of an elderly man clutching the key to the dwelling his family left amid that year’s Arab-Israeli war. None of those surprised her.
“The references to the key, the Nakba, were very familiar,” Yerushalmi said. “But the garb! I didn’t know they had different dresses for different areas.”
Yerushalmi was part of a delegation of about 20 Israeli emissaries stationed at U.S. universities that visited the museum late last month. It was the first-ever tour the museum had organized for a group of Israelis.
Like most Jews in Israel, many of them had relatively few interactions with Arabs inside the country, and learned little about Palestinian culture and history in school. But here at the Washington museum, located just a mile from Yerushalmi’s post at Georgetown University, they got a view into a society that is both largely off-limits to them and entwined with their country’s future.
“It’s important because it humanizes each other, I think, for Israelis to hear the Palestinian perspective,” said Bshara Nassar, a Palestinian from Bethlehem who founded the one-room museum in 2019. “Actually having a wall that separates Palestinians from Israelis — there is no way, there is no place to interact.”
The tour was the brainchild of Jonathan Kessler, the former longtime head of student affairs at the American Israel Public Affairs Committee, the pro-Israel lobby. He now helms Heart of a Nation, which organizes people-to-people encounters between young Israelis, Palestinians and Americans — and which marks a turn away from the pro-Israel advocacy he once championed.
“For the first time, maybe in my lifetime, you’ve got young people from all three societies who simultaneously recognize that their politics is stuck and they desperately want to push forward into a better place,” he told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
He worries that unless they move beyond their “narrow communal silos,” young Jews in the United States “will further distance themselves from Israel, young Israelis will turn their back on the pursuit of peace with the Palestinians, and young Palestinians will give up on coexistence with Israel.”
Recommending a tour of the museum, he said, was a way to make that happen. The Jewish Agency for Israel’s Campus Israel Fellows, which brought the emissaries to Washington, D.C., asked him to recommend museum tours for the group, and he suggested the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum, the National Museum of African American History and this tiny, barely known institution.
Mohammed El-Khatib, a docent at the Museum of the Palestinian People, leads a group of Jewish Agency emissaries through the museum in Washington, D.C., March 22, 2023. (Ron Kampeas)
For at least some of the emissaries, the visit had Kessler’s intended effect. Mohammed El-Khatib, the group’s docent, described his experience as a Lebanese-born Palestinian refugee, and told of his family’s flight from their ancestral village during Israel’s War of Independence.
“It opens our mind to hear his perspective, to hear him say that he’s Palestinian, but he’s never been to Palestine, he was born in Lebanon, but he identifies as a Palestinian,” said Lielle Ziv, who works at Cleveland Hillel. “He told a story, and not like, right or wrong, it’s not a black-and-white situation. We can both be right,”
The museum is nestled in a townhouse adjacent to a pet care outlet, a Middle East bookstore and a chocolatier. A similar and larger museum in the Palestinian West Bank city of Birzeit, called the Palestinian Museum, is in territory that is off-limits to Israelis.
At the Washington museum, there was a lot of common ground: A Kurdish Israeli emissary said the keffiyeh in one exhibit reminded him of pictures of his male relatives, who wore similar headdresses before they left Iraq for Israel. El-Khatib was pleased to learn that the Arabic name for Hebron, Al Khalil, has the same meaning as the city’s Hebrew name — a “friend of God.”
One of the Israelis recognized the British Mandate passport on display, which once belonged to a Palestinian woman. His grandmother had one that was identical, he said.
When El-Khatib greeted the group, he said “Marhaba, Shalom,” respectively the more formal Arabic and Hebrew terms of welcome, and the group spontaneously answered with “Ahalan,” a less formal Arabic greeting that is commonplace among Israelis. That delighted El-Khatib.
The group was similarly pleased when he showed off some Hebrew phrases in a pitch perfect Israeli accent, which he said he learned from an Israeli ex-boyfriend. The group then pushed him to spill more details about his ex.
“In campus encounters we’re always kind of on duty,” said Nati Szczupak, the director of the Campus Israel Fellows program. “They’re on duty, right? They’re pro-Palestine. We’re pro-Israel. And it’s very rare that you can just talk and get to those moments of like, ‘Hey, I used to wear that hat too, when I was little.’”
She was referring to an exhibit on different types of Palestinian headwear that included a fez, or traditional Moroccan hat, which elicited a squeal of delight from a Moroccan Jewish emissary who said she had a photo of herself as a toddler sporting one of her ancestors’ fezzes.
“It’s not about facts,” Szczupak said. “We know the facts. What about the narrative? What is your story? We’re not arguing about the facts, but how we experienced them.”
The museum’s exhibits include photographs of Palestinians in Israel, the West Bank and in exile, and are marked by contrasts: images of resistance — of a small boy throwing stones — and of the mundane — of young men playing soccer. Arrays of black-and-white photos from the late 19th and 20th centuries feature celebrations juxtaposed with resettlement in refugee camps.
A case includes Palestinian glassware, pottery and headwear throughout the ages. There was a temporary exhibit of line drawings by a contemporary Palestinian artist, and a wall titled “Making their mark” of prominent Palestinians — including Rashida Tlaib, the Democratic congresswoman from Michigan; the late Edward Said, the literary critic and scholar; the sisters Gigi and Bella Hadid, who are models; and DJ Khaled, the rapper.
The museum does not hold back from addressing the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. The conflict’s most vexing issue — each side’s fear that the other side wants to replace it — was most evident in the museum’s maps: One depicted the scattering of the Palestinians throughout the Diaspora, and others showed how Israel expanded its territory from the land it was given in the 1947 United Nations partition plan.
Outside the museum, while the Israelis were waiting for the tour to start, a pair of the Israel fellows examined a poster for an exhibit, “The Art of Weeping, by a Palestinian artist, Mary Hazboun. The line drawing of a Palestinian mother in a traditional dress, carrying her babies, evoked the map of the entirety of Israel, Gaza and the West Bank — and then some.
“The proportions are interesting,” one said to the other, in Hebrew. “It includes not just Israel and the West Bank and the Gaza Strip, but the Golan Heights and a part of Jordan.”
Ziv said the tour made her think that she “would like more connections” with Palestinians — and it was clear that it was easier to make those connections in Washington than it would be in Tel Aviv or Jenin. El-Khatib said he had never met an Israeli before he moved to the United States.
“When we have Palestinian visitors coming to the museum, they quickly doze off — I mean, to them, it’s more about the achievement of the space,” El-Khatib said. “But when this group came in, I really felt that they were very attentive and hanging on to every word that I said, which was wonderful.”
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To Prevent Antisemitism in Schools Like Berkeley, Enforce the Rules Already on the Books
Illustrative: Demonstrators holding a “Stand Up for Internationals” rally on the campus of the University of California, Berkeley, in Berkeley, California, US, April 17, 2025. Photo: Carlos Barria via Reuters Connect.
At California’s Berkeley High School (BHS), teachers are interrupting their normally-scheduled classroom lessons to talk about the Iran war.
Given the Berkeley school district’s dismal record on antisemitism, will BHS once again become a venue for Israel-bashing, or even conspiracy theories that Israel manipulated the United States into attacking Iran? If signs of such activity emerge, what can be done to stop it?
Part of the solution — at least at the K-12 level — is simple: state and local governments must ensure that school districts enforce pre-existing constitutional constraints, state educational codes, and school district rules that prohibit indoctrination in the classroom.
Of course, that is not always so easy. One teachers’ group held a teach-in to address the purported causes of the October 7 attack, during which they shared curricular materials such as a guide to “settler colonialism” that defines Hamas as “a resistance movement” and tells students the United States only calls Hamas a terrorist organization because of its “measures against the occupation.”
Materials like these then make their way into BHS classrooms. One history teacher, who reportedly used antisemitic stereotypes in class, showed an anti-Israel video and required her students to respond to the prompt: “To what extent should Israel be considered an Apartheid State?”
When Jewish students complained, the Berkeley Unified School District (BUSD) simply transferred them out of her class. Also at BHS, according to the Brandeis Center complaint, an art teacher reportedly showed the class “violent, pro-Hamas videos.” The teacher also allegedly promoted student walkouts and demonstrations, and projected antisemitic images such as a fist punching through a Star of David. Jewish students were again transferred to a new class, only to find their new teacher wore Free Palestine stickers on her clothing.
What’s especially disturbing about these incidents is that the BUSD already has a policy in place to prevent this kind of ideological offensive material in the classroom. According to BUSD’s “Policy 6144: Controversial Issues,” when a teacher chooses to address such a subject, they should “ensure that all sides of a controversial issue are impartially presented,” and, “The teacher may not use his/her position to forward his/her own historical, religious, political, economic or social bias.”
According to a Supreme Court decision in Garcetti v. Ceballos (2006), such rules are consistent with freedom of speech because, when public employees are carrying out their official duties, their speech does not have the same First Amendment protection as private citizens. State governments have implemented regulations based on this principle.
Texas Educational Code § 28.0022 states that when teachers discuss a controversial topic of public policy, they should “explore that topic objectively and in a manner free from political bias.” Moreover, the code stipulates that teachers cannot assign tasks to students that involve political advocacy.
Similarly, the Florida State Board of Education issued Florida Administrative Code, Rule 6A-10.081, which stipulates that teachers shall not “unreasonably deny a student access to diverse points of view” or “intentionally distort or misrepresent facts concerning an educational matter.”
Yet without enforcement, such policies have little value.
BUSD parents have lodged more than 100 complaints of violations targeting Jewish students. Now, both the US Department of Education and the House of Representatives’ Education and Workforce Committee are investigating antisemitism in the BUSD. Parents have also brought a civil rights lawsuit against the district.
Clearly, school districts across the country should be enforcing policies against propaganda and bigotry in the classroom. But changing the ways of a resistant school district like BUSD is easier said than done. It will entail investigating and then educating the community about existing laws, rules, and codes pertaining to teachers’ speech and conduct. And it will involve persuading parents and students to work with civil rights groups and the local, state, and Federal governments to hold public teachers and administrators accountable.
Our country relies on its schools to endow students with the skills necessary for critical thinking and independent thought. If teachers themselves cannot rise above their prejudices and partisan sentiments, then American schools are not likely to turn out students resistant to conspiracy theories and propaganda.
Naomi Friedman is an Education Fellow at the Foundation for Defense of Democracies.
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Who Owns the Story? Israel Needs Images and Messages That Match the Palestinian Narrative
Protestors in Melbourne unfurl a watermelon banner in solidarity with Palestinian ‘resistance.’ (Photo: Screenshot)
In today’s hyperconnected world, legitimacy is no longer determined solely by history books or diplomatic recognition. It is shaped, distilled, and often distorted in the fast-moving currents of digital culture. Narratives are no longer argued — but they are absorbed, shared, and symbolized. And increasingly, they are decided not by depth, but by clarity and repetition.
For many who support Israel, this presents a growing challenge. The issue is not a lack of historical grounding or factual legitimacy. It is that these truths are not being communicated with the same force, simplicity, and creativity as competing narratives. In a landscape driven by visuals and emotion, complexity alone does not win attention.
At the heart of the matter lies an enduring reality: the Jewish connection to the land of Israel is ancient, continuous, and foundational. It predates modern political frameworks and is rooted in centuries of cultural, religious, and historical presence. This is not a claim constructed in recent decades; it is a defining element of Jewish identity itself.
Yet historical continuity does not automatically translate into contemporary resonance. In the digital arena, meaning is often assigned through symbols that travel faster than context. One of the more curious examples of this phenomenon is the rise of the watermelon as a political emblem.
Today, the image is widely recognized as associated with pro-Palestinian expression. But its origins are neither exclusive nor inherently political. The fruit itself traces back thousands of years to regions of Africa, long before it became entangled in modern symbolism. Its eventual adoption as a visual shorthand was shaped by circumstance, not destiny.
Rather than dismissing or avoiding widely circulated symbols, there is an opportunity to engage with them differently — and to embed them with alternative narratives. The goal is not to negate others, but to assert presence within the same visual language.
Currently, one of the obstacles facing pro-Israel advocacy is not a lack of material, but a lack of cohesion. Messaging often emerges reactively, responding to trends rather than shaping them. Meanwhile, opposing narratives benefit from clarity, emotional appeal, and visual uniformity.
That imbalance can be addressed by approaching communication not only as a matter of accuracy, but of strategy.
Facts remain essential — but in a digital environment, they must be paired with compelling storytelling and recognizable imagery. A well-crafted symbol can reach audiences that a detailed explanation never will.
Reframing something as simple as a watermelon is not about the object itself. It is about demonstrating that meaning is not fixed, and that narratives are not surrendered unless they are abandoned. Because ultimately, the question is not just who holds the stronger argument. It is who communicates it in a way that resonates.
To shape understanding, one must also shape the story.
Sabine Sterk is the CEO of Time To Stand Up For Israel.
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I’m a UMich Student: All Countries Are Welcome — Except Israel
Law enforcement clash with pro-Hamas demonstrators at the University of Michigan on Aug. 28, 2024. Photo: Brendan Gutenschwager/X
Tea time is my favorite part of each week. As the tea chair for the historic Martha Cook Building, an all-women’s dorm at the University of Michigan in operation since 1915, I have the joy of planning and hosting our weekly Friday teas.
Out of all our building traditions, International Tea is one of the most popular. Martha Cook residents (affectionately nicknamed “Cookies”) sign up to represent a country, and host a table offering information and a cultural snack. Friends are invited, foods from across the world are tasted, and on-campus cultural groups perform.
As I did last year, I signed up to represent Israel. I’m a Jewish student who is heavily involved in the pro-Israel community on campus, so naturally, Israel is the country I chose to showcase. The Monday before International Tea, the flags from each country went up. I smiled as I passed the Israeli flag on my way out of the building.
When I came back from the day’s classes, the Israeli flag was gone. I notified the Martha Cook House Board.
Fast forward to that Friday: the day of International Tea. After our weekly House Board meeting concluded, a representative from MHousing called me into another room.
“I just wanted to let you know before you set up for tea that someone has defaced your board.”
That morning, I was already worried that my Israel board (a tri-fold that each participant makes, celebrating the country’s culture) had been set up too early, since I had a feeling that someone might do something like that.
“What did they write?” I asked, “Free Palestine? Genocide? Apartheid?”
“No, they wrote, ‘Notable resident: Epstein.’”
That was not what I expected. Jeffrey Epstein has nothing to do with Israel. But that’s the logic now: lump together anything even remotely perceived as related to Judaism and pin the guilt on the Jewish State. On today’s campus, every grievance is interconnected — except, apparently, the one about Jews being targeted.
Police reports had already been filed for both the flag theft and the vandalism. This was just the icing on the cake for a week that had included both the official passing of a BDS resolution in our student government and the election of a new student body president who ran with the slogan, “Free laundry, free Palestine.” I would not be surprised if these anti-Israel “successes” emboldened the actions of the Martha Cook flag thief and vandal.
When I chose to represent Israel, I chose to represent a culture. I made no comment on the government nor any conflict. The reaction to the Israeli flag simply being displayed and the vandalism on my board are indicative of what campus has been like.
Since I first stepped on campus in August of 2023, I have found myself in an environment that emphasizes feelings over facts and political correctness over discussion. Even before the October 7th attacks, the campus culture was one in which it was taboo to push back on anything that did not fall into the popular narratives. The aftermath of October 7th pushed this to the next level.
Before Israel even responded to Hamas’ attack, protesters were calling Israel genocidal and advocating for the destruction of the country “from the river to the sea.” Thousands of students with no prior knowledge of Middle Eastern history or connection to the conflict began hopping on the anti-Israel bandwagon and marching around as “social justice” warriors.
The 2023-24 school year was the most divided, hostile environment I have experienced. When my friends or I tried to have conversations with people who were tagging along with the anti-Israel groups, we were either turned away, ignored, or had anti-Zionist buzzwords yelled at us. No one engaged with what we were actually saying. They just repeated slogans.
As campus calmed down, the performative activists largely moved on to trendier issues. But the small, dedicated group of anti-Israel agitators remains an active and insidious force.
There will always be those who are against us. What matters is that we, the Jewish community and our allies, stand up for the truth and for what is right. We must keep ourselves educated on the conflict. We must continue to host pro-Israel programming. We must have conversations when we can, respectfully engaging with those who disagree with us. We must do all of this while attending classes, keeping up with our studies, and cheering on our amazing Michigan sports teams (Go Blue!).
In a time when the future looks uncertain, I remain hopeful. Despite all of the hate directed at the Jewish community, I look around and see young, strong Jewish leaders stepping up and making a difference. We strive to be a light among the nations, and we are not going anywhere.
Addison Stone is a junior at the University of Michigan studying War & Conflict Studies and Theatre. She serves on the boards of Students Supporting Israel, Wolverine for Israel, and Michigan Israel Public Affairs Committee.