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Documentary explores the ‘Talmudic’ relationship between writer Robert Caro and his famous longtime editor
(New York Jewish Week) — Bob Gottlieb, who as editor-in-chief of Simon & Schuster, Alfred A. Knopf and The New Yorker ushered into print some of the 20th-century’s most accomplished writers — Nora Ephron, Toni Morrison, Salman Rushdie, John Cheever and Ray Bradbury, to name a few — believes editing is a service job, one that should go unnoticed by the reader.
And yet, it is the relationship between editor and writer that his daughter Lizzie Gottlieb, a documentary filmmaker, explores in her latest film, “Turn Every Page: The Adventures of Robert Caro and Robert Gottlieb,” which premiered at the Tribeca Film Festival in 2022 and is now screening at theaters across the country.
Lizzie’s documentary sets out to explore the sometimes tense but ultimately caring relationship between her father, Bob, and one of his longest running authors, Robert Caro, who over the course of 50 years has produced “only” five major books: “The Power Broker,” a classic biography of urban planner Robert Moses, and four volumes of “The Years of Lyndon B. Johnson.”
Jews born and raised in Manhattan, Caro and Gottlieb have worked together since Gottlieb helped cut 350,000 words out of the first draft of “The Power Broker,” bringing it down to a book that ultimately ran 1,338 pages when it was published in 1974.
The thing they squabble over most often? Semicolons, still. Or, maybe, Caro’s overuse of the word “looms.”
The film, seven years in the making, takes on the ways Moses shaped New York City, the mysteries of LBJ’s political power, the sausage-making of bestselling books and the idiosyncrasies of two workaholics. It is also a story of two now elderly men — Caro is 87, Gottlieb is 91 — in what Bob Gottlieb calls an “actuarial” contest to finish Caro’s highly anticipated fifth volume of his Johnson biography.
“My dad and I are very close. We’re in constant contact with each other. If something funny happens, I call my dad. If something sad or confusing happens, I’ll call him. We’re just in each other’s lives all the time, so I didn’t feel that there was a secret I needed to uncover or something unexamined in our relationship,” said director Lizzie Gottlieb, who also teaches documentary filmmaking at the New York Film Academy.
“But the one thing I really knew nothing about in his life was his relationship with Bob Caro,” she said. “Because it was so different from anything else, and it was so kind of private. So really, the whole movie is the process of me understanding something that I didn’t understand before.”
The New York Jewish Week recently caught up with Gottlieb to talk about the making of the film, what it was like growing up in a high-profile family and how Jewishness impacts the work of the two men.
This interview has been lightly edited for length and clarity.
Lizzie Gottlieb is a documentary filmmaker who previously directed “Today’s Man” (2008) and “Romeo Romeo” (2012).
New York Jewish Week: You’ve been working on this movie for seven years. When did you realize you needed to make this movie and how did it get from start to finish?
For a long time, people would say to me, “You should make a film about your father.” I have an incredible father. He’s done a lot of great things. He’s interesting and funny. But I just thought, a film whose message is “look how great my dad is” is not a movie that anybody wants to see.
And then my father was given some award and Bob Caro was presenting the award. Bob Caro gave a speech about working with my dad over what was then 45 years. He talked about how he needs him, and he respects him and how they’re so productive. Then he started talking about their arguments. Somebody in the audience asked what they fought about and he said, “We have very different feelings about the semicolon.” Everybody erupted into laughs and it just hit me like a bolt of lightning. I thought, “This is the movie, this is the story.”
I wanted a story that had forward momentum and had something big at stake. A film about two men in their 60s who had done a lot of great stuff is not that interesting. But a film about two men who are hovering around 90 and are still in it, and engaged in their work, who have a dedication and passion and are in a race against time to finish their life’s work, felt really, really compelling to me.
People say, “Are you sure you should be wasting [Caro’s] time with a movie? He needs to be writing.” My producer Jen Small said we should put on the poster, “No Lyndon Johnson books were harmed in the making of this film.”
Do you think you had a perspective that made you the best person to try and talk about their relationship and document it, or was it challenging to make the leap of them being willing to open up to you?
There was definitely a pursuit of them. I called my father and I was like, “I have the best idea ever. I’m going to make a film about you and Robert Caro.” He said, “No way. Absolutely not. Never. It would not be good for our relationship.”
I just kept pestering and pestering and pestering him. Finally, he said I could call Bob Caro but he would say no and of course Bob Caro did initially say no. Then he said that he’d seen another film of mine and I could come and speak to him. Eventually, Caro said, “I’ve never seen a film about a writer and an editor, and I think this could be meaningful. I don’t think anyone’s ever seen this before.” So he let me start, but he had this kind of hilarious condition, which was that he didn’t want to ever appear in the same room as my father. That seemed funny and a little maddening and sort of endearing. It also seemed like an irresistible challenge to try to make a buddy film where they don’t appear in the same room as each other. A woman came to a screening recently and she said, “It’s a love story, and they don’t get together until the last scene.”
They both say that somehow the making of this movie has brought them closer together and that they have developed a real friendship after 50 years. Maybe just having to articulate what their relationship has meant to each other has made them appreciate it more.
What was it like to grow up in your household, with your father as this major editor and your mother (actress Maria Tucci) on Broadway?
I grew up in a really incredible household. My mother’s an actress, my father’s a publisher and editor. Our house was this kind of vibrant, boisterous household that was always filled with eccentric, incredible people — actors and writers. My dad’s writers would come for dinner and then my mother would go off and do a play on Broadway and then come back at midnight and make another dinner. It was incredible. So I feel that both of their work was kind of integrated into our life and into our family. All of his writers were really like family members, except for Bob Caro, who never came over and who I never met. I think that there’s something particular and peculiar about their relationship that they needed to stay apart and only come together over work. I guess that was something that intrigued me and that’s part of why I wanted to make the movie.
“Turn Every Page: The Adventures of Robert Caro and Robert Gottlieb” (Courtesy Tribeca Film Festival)
The Jewishness in the film is a bit more implicit, though you discuss it when talking about their upbringings. How do you think their Jewish identities have impacted their work?
I don’t want to presume to speak for either of them about their Jewishness. I know they both very strongly identify as New York Jews, which probably means something slightly different to each of them, but I think it’s essential to their definitions of themselves. Their humor may be particularly Jewish as well. David Remnick uses a word at the end of the movie, where he says Caro needs to have “sitzfleisch” in order to finish the book. It’s this Yiddish [and German] word that means the ability to sit for long, long periods of time and apply yourself to something. I think that that is something that these two guys have: It’s almost a Talmudic focus on their craft, and without that they wouldn’t be who they are. So to the extent that that’s a Jewish quality, I think that’s essential to their being, to their achievements. There’s something like a Talmudic scholar in going over all these things, the industriousness and the empathy as well, this sort of looking at a thing from all sides and dedicating yourself to this pursuit.
Bonus question: You briefly show the various eccentric collections your dad has, including plastic handbags and kitschy Israeli record albums from the ’60s and ’70s. What is that about?
Yes, he has a lot of collections. He also has a collection of macramé owls. There are many that are not in the movie. Maybe that’s a Talmudic thing as well, like a deep dive into whatever it is that is interesting to him. He says that every subject gets more interesting the deeper you get into it. When something strikes him as charming or funny or curious, he goes all the way with it. My mother doesn’t love them. There’s a little bit of a power struggle there, but he wins. You grow up with something and you don’t really think about it. But I knew I had to find a way to put this in the movie. People kept saying it’s irrelevant, it’s to the side, but I knew I had to because it’s so weird and says so much about him.
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The post Documentary explores the ‘Talmudic’ relationship between writer Robert Caro and his famous longtime editor appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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As Christopher Nolan revives ‘The Odyssey,’ a scholar finds links between Homer and the Hebrew Bible
(JTA) — Even before its release on Friday, buzz over Christopher Nolan’s much-anticipated film adaptation, “The Odyssey,” is introducing a new generation to Homer’s tale of shipwrecks, monsters, gods and the long road home. But what does an ancient Greek epic have to do with Jewish readers — or with the Hebrew Bible?
Quite a bit, says Jacob Howland, a philosopher and classicist who has spent much of his career exploring what has been called the conversation between Athens and Jerusalem. His 1998 book “Plato and the Talmud” was inspired in part by a Talmud study group at his synagogue in Tulsa, Oklahoma, where he was a professor of philosophy at the University of Tulsa from 1988 to 2020.
Howland is currently a distinguished visiting professor in the School of Civic Leadership at the University of Texas, founded in 2023 to put Western civilization and “the American idea” at the center of academia in the Lone Star State. Howland has written extensively on the Greeks, the Hebrew Bible and the Talmud for Mosaic, the online magazine of the conservative Jewish think tank and educational philanthropy Tikvah.
In the first of a recent series of essays on the “Odyssey” for Mosaic, Howland asks, “Should Jews Read Homer?” His answer, no surprise, is “yes”: The “Odyssey” and the Hebrew Bible, he writes, “illuminate the enduring questions of human life, including how to bring order and common purpose to the otherwise chaotic relationships between men and women, fathers and sons, familiars and strangers, clans and nations.”
To recap: The “Odyssey” follows the Greek hero Odysseus (Matt Damon in the film) on his 10-year journey home after the Trojan War. Delayed by storms, nymphs, temptations and the whims of the gods, he survives encounters with the Cyclops, the Sirens and the sorceress Circe before finally returning to Ithaca. There, disguised as a beggar, he reunites with his faithful wife, Penelope (Anne Hathaway), and son, Telemachus (Tom Holland), and (spoiler alert) reclaims his kingdom from the suitors who have overrun his household.
As Nolan’s blockbuster brings Odysseus back into the cultural conversation, we spoke with Howland about what Homer and the Bible have in common, how they differ and why both epics are at the center of the conservative discourse around “Western civilization.”
Our conversation was edited for length and clarity.
As someone who reads the “Odyssey” professionally, are you excited about a new movie production of this?
I am going to see the film. I’ve been encouraged, actually — there’s been an incredible amount of controversy, which is funny, because no one’s seen it yet. But I read that a number of people, including the historian Tom Holland — the “Rest Is History” podcast host, not the actor playing Telemachus — have seen it and given it strong reviews.
I’m fairly confident we won’t get something like “300” — that film about Thermopylae, with its computer-generated monsters, which younger audiences oddly loved but which was, historically, terrible. I think there has to be some attempt, if not at full historical accuracy, then at least a semblance of it in costuming, ships and so on — at a minimum, a gritty reality that transports you into another time and place, even if a hypercritical viewer could point out an anachronistic helmet or two.
I want to talk a little about Athens and Jerusalem, which is how the 20th-century German-Jewish philosopher and conservative icon Leo Strauss described the tension in Western civilization between the Bible and classical Greek philosophy. The “Odyssey” was written down somewhere between 725 and 675 BCE, and the Hebrew Bible was composed primarily between the eighth and second centuries BCE. How aware are these two cultures of each other?
If you’re asking about the time of Homer, it’s all speculation. But I can talk to you about the Talmudic period [roughly the first through fourth centuries CE]. According to Warren Zev Harvey at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, the rabbis seemed to have known a lot about Greek philosophy. They just didn’t make that clear in the Talmud. They didn’t want to say, “We’ve studied the Greeks.”
I think it’s safer to talk about the Homeric and the biblical as two fundamentally different approaches — different understandings of the world, of human life, of the divine — and then ask how they differ, how they interact and what overlap they have.
In other words, what are the fruitful comparisons for understanding the differences and similarities between these cultures?
Yes. Athens and Jerusalem are the two oldest, greatest roots of Western civilization. I don’t always agree with everything Leo Strauss says, but he regards those two as a coiled spring, a tension from which the West itself grows. These texts, if we look at their fundamental view of the world, pose a question we have to decide for ourselves — and in some sense the future of our civilization depends on how we decide it.
What are some of the major episodes in the “Odyssey” we can expect to see in Nolan’s film that bear these kinds of comparisons to Jewish texts, and what questions and answers can we derive from them?
One thing that will probably show up is the recognition of Odysseus by his nurse Eurycleia when he returns to Ithaca in disguise — that’s where Homer tells the story of how Odysseus got his scar. As a youth — mid-teens, or thereabouts — Odysseus goes out to hunt a boar. The ordinary way the ancient Greeks hunted a boar: You get about five guys with javelins and a bunch of dogs and a net. The dogs locate the boar, drive it into its lair, and keep it at bay, barking. You set up the net, unleash the dogs, and they harass the boar until it runs out and gets caught in the net. Then a group of men comes in and stabs it.
Instead, Odysseus jumps out in front and rushes the boar himself, to stab it on his own, and that’s when the boar gashes him and gives him his scar.
In my view, this charging, wounding boar is a Homeric image of reality, at least from Odysseus’ perspective. Reality will wound you, and how do you confront it? You go out, and you fight. That’s a premise that explains Odysseus’s behavior through much of the “Odyssey.”
What’s the Hebrew counterpart?
Fundamentally, trust in God — trust that there is an Almighty Creator who has fashioned a world habitable and suitable for human beings, and who will support them if they trust in Him. It’s not that the Hebrews didn’t know reality is wounding — it’s that there’s something above that wounding reality. The boar is an animal; the highest thing for Homer is essentially nature. There are the gods, but what exactly are they?
It’s not that the Jewish tradition doesn’t understand realpolitik. Abraham is a great warrior as well as a man of God. They understand it. But the starting point is trust. Odysseus does not trust. Odysseus is a man of disguises, cunning, cleverness — leveraging every trick.
Along with the charging-boar business, there’s a famous essay by a scholar named George Dimock called “The Name of Odysseus.” Dimock’s essential point: There’s a Greek verb, odusasthai, that means to cause pain to oneself and others, and to be willing to do so. Dimock points out that Odysseus does this in many ways — the Cyclops, whose eye he takes; the suitors, whom he kills; all of it.
By the end of the story, hasn’t he basically sacrificed his entire entourage?
This is incredible, if you look at it. Odysseus leaves Troy with 12 ships, which means around a thousand men. One way or another, they all die. So he takes a generation of young men to Troy and comes back with zero.
Twenty years later, you have the next generation — the noble cream of the crop, 108 suitors from Ithaca and the outlying islands. He kills all of them. So: Another generation of young people gone. Then the fathers of those suitors want revenge, so they make war against him. He would have killed them all too, except that Zeus had Athena intervene, essentially averting a civil war, with a pact of peace afterward.
Now, this begins to get at the real difference between the “Odyssey” and the Bible. After the universal history of Genesis 1 through 11, we get to the patriarchs. God is, in effect, saying: All right, I’m going with this guy Abraham — and remarkably, astonishingly, He says, “Come with me, leave your ways and customs behind, leave your gods, leave your family — we’re just going to go.” At that point, you’re dealing with God’s desire to form community, starting with a family, and it builds from there. Odysseus, by contrast, wants to get back home, but he’s a loner, a man of pain who must endure the world’s harsh reality to find fulfillment.
Let’s talk about the Cyclops, an episode that reveals a lot about the character of Odysseus. A one-eyed giant imprisons Odysseus’s men in a cave and rolls a stone against the entrance so they can’t get out — even if they kill him, they’d still be trapped inside.
Odysseus comes away from the war with Troy into a postwar world, a political crisis, He’s now a grizzled veteran of a bloody, horrible 10-year war. And the first thing he does is sack the city of the Cicones — an actual historical people — killing all the men and enslaving the women. He’s in a nasty mood. Very shortly after, they spot the Cyclops’s island — smoke rising — and decide to go see. They realize a monster must live there: Everything is enormous, racks of cheese stacked way up high. Odysseus says, “Let’s wait and meet this guy.” His men say, “No — let’s just take the stuff and go.” He insists on sitting inside the cave, waiting. It’s insane — he wants to measure himself.
The Cyclops episode is really the antithesis of what’s happening with Abraham and the patriarchs, who are building a family, a tribe, a nation, looking forward. Odysseus just wants to test himself. When the Cyclops returns, Odysseus uses his cleverness, blinds him, and they sneak out under the rams. Then he shouts his own name — which is what gets all his men killed, because the Cyclops is Poseidon’s son, and Poseidon is furious. He identifies himself completely: “I’m Odysseus, I live in Ithaca, here’s my address.” That episode is clearly one in which Odysseus is giving birth to himself — an act of absolute hubris.
So Odysseus has two competing desires. One is to make his name — to achieve glory and fame through his exploits. The other becomes: I have to get home.
Is there a biblical character who’s a useful compare-and-contrast for this notion of what it means to be a man, or a hero?
There’s Jacob, but let me start with David. The David and Goliath scene is fantastic, because Goliath is a Philistine, and the Philistines came from the Aegean — probably Greek speakers, though some think Crete. So Goliath, in effect, is a Greek. He’s described as enormous, fantastic — and he’s bested by David. David killing Goliath is a version of what scholars of myth call the “wily lad” story — another version is Odysseus with the Cyclops, another big, bad opponent. Interestingly, David hits Goliath right in the middle of the forehead, which is where, on Greek vases, the Cyclops’ eye is depicted.
So Goliath is big and bad, and then there’s Saul, a doofus who says, “You have to wear my armor.” David says, no, I’m not going to do that. David trusts in the Lord. When Odysseus defeats the Cyclops, he says, in effect, “I did this — I am Odysseus.” David says, “No — I trust in the Lord; the Lord protects me.”
And Jacob?
Odysseus is a wrestler, and Jacob is very Odyssean — fighting with Esau, leveraging Esau’s hunger to steal his birthright, scheming with his mother Rebecca, who is also an Odyssean figure, telling him to dress in skins to deceive Isaac. Then Esau wants to kill him, and we get the scene where Jacob wrestles at the Jabbok [River], the night before he has to confront Esau. He’s worried, he’s wounded, he fights this “ish” — this figure, angel, whatever it is — and he’s vulnerable. He’s feeling fear, feeling guilt. He’s holding on and fighting because only if Esau blesses him — which happens the next day — can Jacob let go. In other words: “I have to make it right with my brother.” Then he’s told his name will be Israel — because he strives with God.
So to sum this up: The Jewish hero is vulnerable and trusts in God; the Greek hero can show no vulnerability and can only trust in himself. And yes, there’s Athena and the other gods, but the Greek gods are fickle.
Are there similar comparisons between a female heroine in the “Odyssey” and a biblical character — perhaps Penelope and what she represents versus one of the matriarchs?
Penelope and Rebecca are two strong but very different women. Both are capable, like Odysseus, of enduring deep and lasting pain. Penelope seems more passive, but she has a kind of Odyssean cunning and steely determination. She holds the suitors at bay for three years by delaying marriage until she’s finished weaving the funeral shroud for Odysseus’s father Laertes. Besides her trick of weaving by day and unraveling by night, the shroud is not just for Laertes. It is for the suitors, and it signifies the burial of an entire epoch — a past slain by the violent passions of the younger generation, no longer constrained by ancestral ways.
While Penelope patiently awaits Odysseus’s return and prepares to bury a dying epoch, Rebecca looks forward, toward the great nation that God had promised to make of Abraham’s offspring. Isaac, doubtless traumatized by his near sacrifice, is the passive partner in their marriage; he stays put when Abraham sends his servant to find a wife for him, while Rebecca jumps at the chance to leave her home. She is physically vigorous (she endures a breach birth of twins, and carries water for all the servant’s camels) and strong in will, and it is she who is endowed with Odyssean cunning. She perceives that it is Jacob, not Esau, who has the toughness and ambition needed to be the bearer of the covenant. It is she who instructs Jacob how to disguise himself as Esau so that Isaac’s blessing will go to him; who takes on herself whatever curse Isaac may put on Jacob; and who instructs Jacob to flee to Beersheba, knowing that she will probably never see him again.
Those are really useful comparisons. But it raises a question, which maybe a rabbi would answer differently than a scholar: Is there a temptation, reading the “Odyssey” and the Bible, to conclude that one worldview, not the quality of the literature but the worldview, is simply better than the other? Does Homer have something to teach Jews about how to be a hero, or a lover, or how to be clever?
I was just teaching Exodus, and we got to the scene where Moses punishes the Israelites for the sin of the Golden Calf — a very Homeric episode, morally messy. Were any of the Levites who did the killing themselves involved in making the calf? Are they only killing people who deserve it, or will innocent people die too? My students find it extreme — 3,000 men killed. My response is: Read Machiavelli, where he says armed prophets succeed and unarmed prophets fail — and that 3,000 is about half a percent of the roughly two million Israelites there. If Moses doesn’t get this under control, they’re all going to die. That’s Greek — that’s realpolitik. But it’s already there in the Jewish tradition too, going back to Abraham.
So — is the Jewish tradition superior? I think so, and especially for today, because of our circumstances. The United States was at its height after World War II, and now our institutions are collapsing. What do we need? Trust. We need to rebuild. So if you ask which tradition is better, here’s one criterion: What’s the advantage of trust? It’s a kind of youthfulness, a kind of fertility, a kind of generativity — the capacity of the Jews to rebuild what’s been broken, to regrow, to reestablish themselves at every civilizational crisis, is unparalleled in history. The Greeks have a parallel of sorts — there’s a capacity to find a new way forward there too. But it seems to me what we need today is trust — because people are withdrawing their energy from the task of mending the world, because they don’t want to invest their time, energy and hope in something they believe might fail.
If we’re going to save Western civilization, which I do think is in crisis, we need to renew ourselves by looking to the Jewish tradition in particular.
Many people today, especially on the political right, argue that Western civilization is under siege, and the key to its revival is reclaiming its roots in the Ancient Greeks and Christian traditions. I think some Jewish thinkers and think tanks — including Tikvah, where some of your work has appeared — have a lot invested in including Judaism and Jewish ideas among the cornerstones of Western civilization. Is that a natural fit, or was Judaism more of a counterculture that was constantly challenging classical and Christian ideas?
I was a senior fellow at Tikvah, and they brought me on to design Greek and Jewish courses. When I got to the University of Austin [the pro-free inquiry, “anti-woke” liberal arts college whose founders include the Jewish journalist Bari Weiss] I designed their intellectual foundations program — their liberal-education core — and set it up with Genesis, Exodus and so on. I think what Tikvah is trying to do — and what UT Austin is doing too, in the School of Civic Leadership, where I’ll be teaching Genesis and Exodus this fall — and what other universities are trying to do, is give the Jewish tradition its rightful place.
From the founding fathers onward, there’s this notion that America is a chosen land — that we are, in some sense, a chosen people, engaged in a moral, spiritual, political mission. Lincoln, I think, brings this to a kind of perfection — he turns it into a civil religion, speaking to a people who’ve read the Bible, without pushing any particular sectarian version of it. We don’t know which side God is on, but the project isn’t going to work unless we understand ourselves to be on a kind of collective mission, knowing we’ll make mistakes and need to be forgiven.
You’ve written that the Hebrew Bible, like Homer, is one of the “taproots of the great branching oak of Western civilization.” Do you worry about the Christian nationalists who insist Western civilization is intrinsically tied to the Christian faith, and denotes a specifically Christian civilization?
For sure, I think it’s a huge problem. As with anything involving the Jews, I’m horrified by the antisemitism I’ve seen building on the left, now mirrored on the right. Young people in particular are being memed into antisemitism.
It does seem to me that the only way forward is to keep having these conversations — to say, here’s what we’ve inherited, here’s how these texts have shaped who we are as Americans, how we understand things, even if you’re a staunch atheist, the Bible has shaped your thinking about all of this. Only then can we get to a point where more people than just the Jews might say, “Your Christian nationalism, which imagines Christianity came out of nowhere with no real relationship to the Jews except rejection, is fundamentally ill-informed and destructive.”
To return to Nolan’s version of the “Odyssey”: What do you hope it gets right — or, if you’d rather answer the other way, what do you dread it might do to a story of such antiquity and power?
Odysseus, as I’ve indicated, has some questionable qualities as a leader, but he’s a much more complicated, flexible person, better suited to a new reality. I think that’s part of why Homer centered him. He’s a character who can hold two things together at once — maybe more than two: “I want to be an outstanding individual, but my duty is to the community; I want to protect my family and make a name for myself, but I’m willing to do what’s necessary.”
That’s true of the Hebraic heroes too — Abraham surely didn’t think it was a great idea to say his wife Sarah was his sister [when threatened by Pharaoh and King Abimelech] not once but twice, but he had to; otherwise they weren’t getting out of there. You have to hold the necessary and the good together. That requires a complicated person who can juggle both.
And I think it’s such a primal story, from the point of view of the human soul and human history. On the individual level, it’s the shape of a life — leaving home and coming back. And it’s the shape of a community too. Biblically, we’re all exiles, all trying to get back to Eden, if you like. The story of human life is trying to make, or recover, or return to a home — on both the individual and the communal level — and it’s a never-ending task. I think Homer knew what he was doing: Read the last page of the “Odyssey”, and you sense there’s a lot of work still to be done. Because it doesn’t end. This is what life is about — and then going forward too, having children, being concerned with their home, helping them make one.
I hope the film shows that.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post As Christopher Nolan revives ‘The Odyssey,’ a scholar finds links between Homer and the Hebrew Bible appeared first on The Forward.
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AOC urges Clavicular, who visited Tel Aviv, to ‘shed some light’ on the plight of the Palestinians
(JTA) — Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez said the influencer Clavicular should be informing his followers about the plight of Palestinians, in a sign of how widely Clavicular’s trip this week to Tel Aviv has registered among both Israelis and Israel’s critics.
Ocasio-Cortez, who has been sharply critical of Israel, was asked about Clavicular by a reporter from TMZ, the celebrity news site, on Tuesday in Washington, D.C.
“We should be focusing on Palestinians and the fact that many of them have been displaced,” she told the outlet, adding, “I hope maybe he uses his platform to give also some light to that issue as well.”
Clavicular sharply divided pro-Israel influencers during his time in Tel Aviv, with some arguing that his presence was a boon to Israel at a time when the country faces global approbation over its military operations in Gaza and others saying that Israelis should not embrace a celebrity with a record of objectifying women and engaging in antisemitism. Earlier this year, Clavicular, whose real name is Braden Peters, was part of a group of influencers who sang along to the Ye song “Heil Hitler” at a Miami nightclub.
One Israeli who appeared in Clavicular’s livestream, which appears on the platform Kick that is known for allowing content prohibited by other services, has faced penalties for doing so. Shira Braun has lost her job in the army spokesman’s unit and has been given a suspended jail sentence by the military after posing as the influencer’s girlfriend on air, according to Israeli media.
The end of Clavicular’s trip has prompted a new round of social media posts about him. The Instagram account Olim in TLV, which appeals to young immigrants in Tel Aviv, riffed on the country’s missile alerts in a graphic published on Wednesday.
“The event has ended — it is possible to exit the Protected Space,” the graphic said. “Clavicular has left Israel.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post AOC urges Clavicular, who visited Tel Aviv, to ‘shed some light’ on the plight of the Palestinians appeared first on The Forward.
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Israel is dominating Democratic politics. How did we get here?
For decades, American politicians considering a presidential run have traveled to Iowa cornfields and New Hampshire town halls to introduce themselves to voters before launching their campaigns.
Last week, two potential 2028 presidential contenders chose a different route.
Rahm Emanuel, the former Chicago mayor and Barack Obama’s White House chief of staff, traveled to Tel Aviv, where he delivered a speech defending the U.S.-Israel relationship but also cautioning about the growing erosion of Democratic support for the Jewish state in the wake of the Gaza war and amid settler violence.
A tiny fraction of the target audience was in the room. The majority was back home in the U.S., considering who in their party could possibly win as their party’s White House nominee — and more immediately how to use their votes this year to regain power.
Meanwhile, Rep. Ro Khanna, a leading progressive Democrat from California, took a high-profile trip to the occupied West Bank, where he was caught in an altercation with armed Israeli settlers who blocked his route to an elementary school that extremist settlers had destroyed. Khanna said he plans to share what he witnessed firsthand about the Palestinians’ “injustice” on the campaign trail if he runs.
The contrasting trips reflected a trend already reshaping Democratic politics. Graham Platner, the Maine Senate nominee who was forced to withdraw from the race following allegations of sexual assault, made opposition to Israel and AIPAC one of the defining themes of his campaign. His defiant parting message — in which he denied the allegations — included a vow to keep working to “end the genocide.”
On Tuesday, House Democratic leader Hakeem Jeffries of New York, hoping to become speaker after the midterm elections, added his voice to the mix. In guidance issued to his members ahead of a vote to cut off aid to Israel — introduced by Republican Rep. Thomas Massie from Kentucky and co-sponsored by Khanna — Jeffries said that while he’ll oppose the measure, “given the strongly held views throughout the Caucus in this important area of foreign policy, we are not whipping this vote” against it. He added that going forward, “a meaningful change in direction is needed.”
The episodes in the past week highlight how quickly and powerfully the U.S. relationship to Israel — which has been receiving $3.8 billion annually under a 10-year memorandum of understanding between the U.S. and Israel, which runs through 2028, plus additional billions in arms sales — has come to dominate Democratic Party politics.
A stew of different factors are in the mix — ranging from President Donald Trump’s fateful decision to wage war on Iran alongside Israel, the success of New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani and the Democratic Socialists of America in showing how to mobilize voters on the issue, and voter backlash against massive spending on elections by U.S. supporters of military aid to Israel, all against the backdrop of the Gaza war and Israel’s continued military action in the region.
Sudden shifts
Israel’s role in Democratic politics this year signals a major shift — especially after a wave of insurgents who made condemning Israel central to their campaigns beat mainstream Democrats in New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania and Colorado primaries.
The Democratic revolt is not entirely new. In the 2024 presidential race, the conflict in Gaza spurred some voters to stay home rather than cast ballots after the “uncommitted” movement blamed President Joe Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris for civilian deaths — missing voters who may have swayed the results in Michigan, a swing state with a large Arab-American population. Activists said Democratic National Committee officials acknowledged that the Biden administration’s support for Israel contributed to Harris’ loss to Donald Trump.
But the protest movement has since swelled to include a bigger constituency — one not content to sit out elections or confined to moments of war. For many progressive candidates, challenging the U.S.-Israel alliance and advocating for Palestinian rights have become a marker of ideological identity and the party’s future.
Bill de Blasio, who himself evolved from a staunch supporter of Israel and an ally of AIPAC after he left office as New York City mayor and mounted an unsuccessful campaign for Congress, said in an interview that the shift reflects a deeper emotional connection to the conflict that is driving the engagement and organizing. Disaffected voters feel personally implicated by U.S. support for Israel, de Blasio said: “It’s a sense that this was done with our weapons and our money.”
In some districts with entrenched incumbents, such lines of attack by challengers went nowhere in Democratic primaries. But in some districts where the grassroots Democratic Socialists of America endorsed candidates and mobilized voters, they have scored significant upsets.
The result is a growing wave of democratic socialists and progressives winning Democratic primaries, portraying support for Israel as incompatible with progressive values.
Matt Duss, a former senior foreign policy adviser to Sen. Bernie Sanders of Vermont, said Gaza became a breaking point for many Democratic voters because of its human toll, but added that the political shift runs deeper. “It has come to stand for an issue of the establishment versus the insurgent populist left,” Duss said. Gaza, he added, “created this breaking point” where the “floodgates opened” to challenging the pro-Israel consensus that has dominated American politics for so long.
The Mamdani model
Zohran Mamdani’s left-field victory last year as New York City mayor showed candidates nationally that running against Israel could energize voters even in a local election. Mamdani, a young democratic socialist, rose to power by embracing pro-Palestinian and anti-Israel activism in a mayoral campaign otherwise focused on economic justice and progressive reform. Mamdani defeated establishment candidates despite refusing to scale back on his support for boycotts and declining to condemn the slogan “globalize the intifada” even as many Jewish voters heard it as a call to violence. Public opinion polls showed that Mamdani’s unapologetic criticism of Israel resonated with a majority of New York City voters.
The wins of three candidates endorsed by Mamdani in congressional primaries last month reinforced running against Israel as a winning strategy in progressive-leaning districts. Brad Lander, the former city comptroller allied with Mamdani, defeated two-term incumbent Rep. Dan Goldman by labeling Goldman as insufficiently activist on Israel, even as both — identifying themselves as liberal Zionists — touted similar views on addressing the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Lander was the first Jewish candidate to call for an end to U.S. aid to Israel.
In Upper Manhattan and the Bronx, Rep. Adriano Espaillat, chair of the Congressional Hispanic Caucus, lost to Darializa Avila Chevalier, a former organizer of the pro-Palestinian encampment at Columbia. Avila Chevalier drew backlash for inflammatory comments about Israel and for attending a Times Square rally on Oct. 8, 2023, widely condemned for celebrating Hamas — but won anyway.
And in Brooklyn, Assemblymember Claire Valdez beat the establishment favorite for an open House seat. Her supporters condemned her opponent, Brooklyn Borough President Antonio Reynoso, for refusing during much of the campaign to call the Gaza war a genocide and for taking a 2015 trip to Israel.
The AIPAC factor
The trend is not limited to New York. Across the country, Israel has become a defining issue, even in races with relatively small Jewish electorates or where foreign policy would once have played little role. In Colorado, Melat Kiros, a democratic socialist, unseated a 15-term incumbent using Israel as a wedge throughout the campaign.
In California, State Sen. Scott Wiener, a candidate for Congress who is one of the leading Jewish Democrats statewide, has found himself navigating intense pressure and confrontations from progressive activists even after he capitulated to demands that he characterize Israel’s military campaign in Gaza as a genocide.
According to data compiled by Milan Singh, a fellow at The Argument, a liberal opinion-focused media publication, insurgent progressive candidates for Congress mentioned Israel in 48% of their fundraising emails.
Opposition to AIPAC and criticism of the Israeli government have increasingly become shorthand for challenging “entrenched power, big money politics and the party establishment,” said Democratic strategist Lis Smith.
Nowhere is the changed climate being tested more vigorously than in Michigan’s open Senate race. The Aug. 4 primary between Rep. Haley Stevens and former Wayne County health director Abdul El-Sayed has become one of the most expensive races in the country this year.
Like other candidates who have run campaigns with Israel front and center, El-Sayed has focused heavily on condemning AIPAC, the campaign group backing congressional candidates who support U.S. military aid to Israel.
AIPAC has returned the favor with massive spending to attempt to defeat El-Sayed. Its super PAC, the United Democracy Project, has already spent $14.9 million backing Stevens. AIPAC also raised several million dollars for Stevens by directing its donors to online portals that funnel money directly to the candidate’s campaign.
Until this year, AIPAC was obscure to most voters. But its massive spending to support favored House and Senate candidates has been matched by progressive opponents using it to rally voters to shun those candidates.
In primaries this year, AIPAC and -aligned groups are pushing back against candidates who made Palestinian rights and support for restricting offensive arms sales to Israel a theme of their campaigns. AIPAC is also spending heavily to defend a seat in St. Louis, Missouri, that it helped win in 2024.
Duss said the politics surrounding Israel increasingly functions as a broader test of credibility for candidates seeking to dislodge Democratic Party leaders seen as holding back progress — not just on Israel, but also on such goals as Medicare for All. “It’s become an issue that you could speak out on if you want to demonstrate your anti-establishment bona fides,” he said.
In Michigan, voter scrutiny has broadened beyond just Israel to the question of why powerful interests are aligned with Stevens.
The changing politics is beginning to impact how incumbents are voting in Washington. In April, 40 Senate Democrats voted to block $295 million for the transfer of bulldozers — used by the Israeli military to demolish homes in the West Bank and Gaza — and 36 of them also supported a measure to block the sale of 1,000-pound bombs to the Jewish state. Those counts shattered a previous high of 27 Democrats who backed a similar pair of resolutions last year.
The governing challenge
The electoral victories may only be the beginning. The real test will come should the Democrats regain control of the House in November.
Matt Bennett, executive vice president at the centrist Democratic group Third Way, said that Israel “has exploded as a divisive issue in democratic politics” at a moment when Democrats have no power, as the minority in both the House and Senate, to shape the foreign policy of the United States. “It’s remarkable how anger is being directed at people who have no agency over these questions.”
If they win back the House, he said, those divisions will become much harder to avoid.
Whether driven by outrage over Gaza, frustration with the government of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu or broader resentment of political institutions, Israel has become a defining issue — something few Democratic strategists expected even a few years ago.
Smith, who advises political organizations Majority Democrats and the Bench, called the events of the 2026 primary seasoin a “turning point” in the Democratic Party’s stance toward Israel. “I think that relationship is going to be strained for the foreseeable future,” she said.
The combination of Netanyahu’s actions in Gaza, Lebanon and the West Bank, and Trump’s actions in the war on Iran, are going to have a “lasting impact on our politics,” said de Blasio. “I don’t think that it can be put back in the bottle.”
Israel’s election crossroads
Throughout the debate over Israel, mainstream Democrats have tried to direct their criticism at Netanyahu and his far-right partners. Even Bernie Sanders, the elder in the progressive caucus, framed the charge for ending U.S. military aid as opposition to the “extremist Netanyahu government.”
Israelis will get a chance to change leadership in the upcoming Oct. 27 Knesset election. Recent polls show that Netanyahu, seeking a seventh term in office, is trailing an opposition bloc led by two contenders for premier — former Prime Minister Naftali Bennett and former IDF chief Gadi Eisenkot.
If Netanyahu loses, some centrist Democrats believe a different Israeli government will help ease tensions.
“The intense emotion surrounding the issue could lessen somewhat,” said Matt Bennett of Third Way. Though the next Israeli leader will not dramatically break with Netanyahu’s policy on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict or Gaza, “not having Netanyahu there would matter a lot because he has become he has inserted himself into partisan politics in the United States to such a degree that he has become the face of these campaigns,” he added.
Progressives are less convinced. They see the shift and generational reassessment of the U.S.-Israel relationship as a larger challenge. “If you had a different figure, one who is not so odious, that would give an opportunity to change the relationship,” Duss said. “But I don’t think it’s going back because the differences here are not just about one person; they are systemic.”
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