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From the Editor: The Audacity of the Jews to Survive
The annual ‘March of the Living,’ a trek between two former Nazi-run death camps, in Oswiecim and Brzezinka, Poland, May 6, 2024. Photo: Maciek Jazwiecki/ZUMA Press Wire via Reuters Connect
History has returned for the Jews. For 78 years following the end of World War II, the Jewish people enjoyed an unprecedented period of peace and calm globally. There were rocky periods over this time and plenty of instances of antisemitic violence, from the Munich massacre to the AMIA bombing, but Jews overall were not suffering anywhere near the same pervasive persecution of previous eras. Then came Oct. 7, 2023, when Hamas-led Palestinian terrorists invaded Israel and perpetrated the biggest single-day slaughter of Jews since the Holocaust, broadcasting their savagery for the world to see. The Oct. 7 atrocities awoke a dormant beast: What followed, amid the ensuing war in Gaza, was a ferocious surge in antisemitic incidents — harassment, intimidation, and violence — around the globe.
Many observers, including Jewish leaders, have described this rise in hostility as a new phenomenon, with antisemitism reaching record levels. But the cold truth that Jewish communities need to recognize is that the world is returning to its pre-1945 norm, when bigotry against Jews was a far more common element of daily life. Of course, now there’s Israel, serving as a place of refuge with a standing military to protect Jews. And today most societies, both elites and the masses, don’t want to be seen as overtly antisemitic, unlike past eras when blatant prejudice and discrimination were more socially and culturally acceptable — often even a point of national pride. But make no mistake: Antisemitism will continue to be normalized and tolerated in a way that no other bigotry would be, including in the West.
If 2023 was the year history returned for the Jews and 2024 was when antisemitism began to normalize once the initial shock went away, then 2025 marked the moment the intifada went global. From Washington to Boulder, from Manchester to Sydney, calls from anti-Israel activists to “globalize the intifada” came to fruition with murderous antisemitic attacks.
Despite the gravity of this moment, discussions of Jews, Israel, and antisemitism, even among friends, have missed key fundamentals about the underlying dynamics of what led us here. Specifically, few people seem to understand what antisemitism really is and why it has proven to be the most enduring form of bigotry in the history of civilization. The answer illuminates why Jews must remain vigilant, practical, and appropriately cautious on one hand while simultaneously maintaining and sharing a deep sense of pride and comfort in the fact that they have faced much worse before and will endure this too. The Jewish people will live on, as their opponents of today fade into the distance.
Israel’s First Prime Minister David Ben-Gurion (C) stands under a portrait depicting Theodore Herzl, the father of modern Zionism, as he reads Israel’s declaration of Independence in Tel Aviv, May 14, 1948, in this handout picture released April 29, 2008, by the Israeli Government Press Office (GPO). Photo: REUTERS/Kluger Zoltan/GPO/Handout
An Unprecedented Story
The rabid opposition to Israel and steep rise in antisemitism we’ve seen worldwide over the past two years serve as a reminder that a sizable chunk of humanity deeply resents the will of the Jewish people both to survive and thrive in the face of intense persecution.
Indeed, a key reason for the persistence of antisemitism through millennia is that the story of the Jewish people seems too improbable to believe without invoking the conspiracy theory of the all-powerful Jew.
For the last 2,500-plus years, at least since the Babylonian exile, Jews have been expelled, slaughtered, and scapegoated in such a consistent and widespread way that is unique to the human experience of persecution. In short, antisemitism is civilization’s oldest, most entrenched hatred.
And yet, the Jewish people have endured and survived, collectively forming much of Western civilization’s moral, legal, and spiritual foundation with their ideas and teachings. More than that, Jews have thrived amid unparalleled adversity, becoming disproportionally successful in fields as diverse as law, medicine, and the arts.
To drive home the point, Jews have won about a quarter of all Nobel prizes, despite making up less than 0.2 percent of the world’s population.
How can such a tiny spec of humanity be so extensively persecuted but somehow, despite the obstacles, excel to such a degree? It doesn’t make any sense.
Israel’s story is similar. Only in the Jewish state are the same people worshiping the same God and speaking the same language that they did 3,000 years ago. Many people simply cannot understand that the establishment of the modern state of Israel in 1948 was the ultimate decolonization project, the return of an ancient people to their homeland in which they always maintained a presence and to which they never gave up deep connection.
Everything about the Jews and Israel seems to defy possibility and common sense: Such countries are not resurrected in history, and dead languages such as Hebrew are not revived.
And then consider the land itself: a tiny sliver of earth with a limited supply of natural freshwater, surrounded by larger enemies bent on the Jewish state’s destruction.
But rather than die, Israel survived to become the vibrant democracy, military juggernaut, and high-tech hub that we know today — a mini superpower surpassing its neighbors (and most of the world) in virtually all aspects of state power and quality of life.
The stories of Israel and the Jewish people are puzzles, and the pieces do not fit according to the typical rules of history. For too many people, antisemitic conspiracy theories provide a comforting answer to fill in the blanks to these mysteries.
Car in New South Wales, Australia graffitied with antisemitic message. The word “F**k” has been removed from this image. Photo: Screenshot
What Antisemitism Actually Is – and Why the Jews Are so Hated
Antisemitism isn’t bigotry as we typically understand it. Bernard Lewis, the late and preeminent historian of the Middle East, explained how “it is perfectly possible to hate and even to persecute Jews without necessarily being antisemitic.” How? Because “hatred and persecution are a normal part of the human experience.”
Antisemitism has two special features, Lewis argued, that make it a distinct form of bigotry. First, “Jews are judged by a standard different from that applied to others.” Second, and more importantly, is the “accusation of cosmic, satanic evil attributed to Jews,” the likes of which cannot be found anywhere else. The latter point is why, historically, it was rarely enough just to subjugate the Jewish people and force them to submit to a certain authority. No, the Jews had to be either expelled or slaughtered — after being scapegoated for society’s ills.
While racism is emotional, antisemitism is explanatory, an epistemic failure of the highest degree using a veneer of logic to promote a false version of reality. This is why podcasters and university professors get away with antisemitism but not racism: They can portray the former as a serious intellectual exercise. What they don’t say is that the lies of blood libel and Jewish control are what have always led to pogroms and even genocide.
Antisemitism is a virus of the mind that has gone through three historical mutations. In the Middle Ages, hatred and persecution of Jews were based on their religion. In the 19th and 20th centuries, hatred and persecution of Jews were based on their race. Today, hatred and persecution of Jews are more often based on their nation-state, Israel. As the late British chief rabbi Jonathan Sacks argued, “anti-Zionism is the new antisemitism.” With each new phase, antisemitism adapted to what became morally and intellectually acceptable — religious persecution fell out of fashion during the Enlightenment, and the same happened to racial persecution in the mid-20th century. Persecuting the Jewish state, however, is perfectly acceptable today, especially among cultural and political elites.
In the ancient world, Jews were initially hated for introducing monotheism to the world, practicing a system of laws and values requiring a level of discipline to which others were, frankly, unwilling to commit. And then through the years, Jews continuously refused to conform to the ruling empire of the day, maintaining their identity and practices. Naturally, this built resentment.
At the same time, Jews never sought to proselytize; they were content with their own community, happy to live among others but not particularly interested in expanding the tribe. This too built resentment.
To the gentile, Jews were an exclusive club — one could say a chosen people — which would neither submit to nor express much interest in outside forces. The former is a prime explainer for the prevalence of Islamic antisemitism; the latter helps explain the endurance of Christian antisemitism, with Jews never accepting Jesus.
After thinking about these issues for years, I have come to the simple conclusion that antisemitism is so persistent because people believe Jews are the “chosen people,” and they see in Israel that same chosenness. And they resent them for it.
There is a striking moment in Mein Kampf, Hitler’s autobiographical manifesto, when the Nazi leader concedes that the Jews might just be the chosen people — and seems to fear that his antisemitic plans may be doomed to fail.
“When … I scrutinized the activity of the Jewish people,” Hitler wrote, “suddenly there rose up in me the fearful question whether inscrutable destiny, perhaps for reasons unknown to us poor mortals, did not, with eternal and immutable resolve, desire the final victory of this little nation.”
Whether Jews actually are a chosen people isn’t the point. The antisemite sees the Jewish story and doesn’t express admiration but rather resentment and paranoia. To them, there is something particular about the Jews that simply defies explanation. They are worthy of unique hatred and scorn. Yes, Jews are often hated in specific situations for their God, or for being a successful minority, or other reasons that are often put forward. But underneath these explanations, often subconsciously, is the fear, hatred, and awe that the Jewish people have a divine spark. Many groups, from the West to East Asia (for example, China calling itself “the Middle Kingdom”), make a claim to chosenness, but bigots only single out the Jews for scorn as a result. Because deep down, they believe it.
If this argument sounds a bit vague and irrational, that’s the point. There’s a supernatural element of antisemitism that can’t be explained by logic, reason, or history. As Sacks wrote, antisemitism “is not a coherent set of beliefs but a set of contradictions. Before the Holocaust, Jews were hated because they were poor and because they were rich; because they were communists and because they were capitalists; because they kept to themselves and because they infiltrated everywhere; because they clung tenaciously to ancient religious beliefs and because they were rootless cosmopolitans who believed nothing.”
Because antisemitism is not simply about hatred of Jews but, rather, reflects an even more irrational belief that Jews are responsible for all the world’s ills, antisemites apply their views in such absurd, contradictory ways. It’s a shape-shifting virus that reveals more about the host than the Jews. As the journalist Vasily Grossman observed in his book Life and Fate, “Tell me what you accuse the Jews of — I’ll tell you what you’re guilty of.”
A pro-Hamas march in London, United Kingdom, Feb. 17, 2024. Photo: Chrissa Giannakoudi via Reuters Connect
The Line Between Criticism of Israel and Antisemitism
Anti-Zionists — those who either outright call for Israel’s eradication or, more cleverly, advocate policies that would ultimately lead to the same result — like to argue that people accusing them of antisemitism are simply trying to stifle their right to free speech in order to advance a political agenda. Therefore, it’s worth taking a moment to clarify that criticizing Israel is not antisemitic. Contrary to what certain dishonest voices may say, no Jew or Israeli or Zionist has actually made that argument. It is 100 percent fair game to oppose the actions and rhetoric of the Israeli government.
However, it is antisemitic to argue that Israel is an illegitimate entity whose very existence is a crime. Jews have always defined themselves — and historically were defined by others — as a people, not just a religion. To deny this reality and Jewish self-determination, to oppose Israel’s right to exist as a Jewish nation, is to attack the heart of Jewish identity. Unfortunately, this is the core message of the pro-Palestinian movement, whose leaders do not preach two states for two peoples but instead describe the world’s lone Jewish polity as a cancer to be eradicated.
To be more specific, criticism becomes bigotry when it involves demonizing and delegitimizing Israel. Accusing Israel of genocide or running an apartheid state is a demonstrable lie that can’t be labeled legitimate criticism. The same goes for describing Israel, the only democracy in the Middle East, as a human rights abuser on the level of China and North Korea.
Those who support the boycott, divestment, and sanctions (BDS) movement against Israel employ such rhetoric as part of their campaign of economic warfare against the country. Such efforts seek to destroy the Jewish state through international pressure, undermining Israel to the point that it effectively ceases to survive. Think about the implications for Israeli Jews, who live in a region in which most governments and peoples have shown indifference to if not support for slaughtering Jews.
Moreover, now that the Jewish people have Israel and are not prepared to surrender it after 2,000 years of exile and persecution, the only way to replace Israel with Palestine is by forcibly taking it. That would mean killing or expelling millions of Jews. Those who know this but continue to advocate the anti-Zionist cause are antisemitic. And those anti-Zionists who do not realize this reality shouldn’t simply be able to plead ignorance and absolve themselves.
Imagine if someone demonized and sought to de-legitimize another country — say, Ireland — with the same obsessive hatred that the likes of Tucker Carlson, Candace Owens, Ilhan Omar, Hasan Piker, Zohran Mamdani, and the leaders of Iran show Israel. Would they not be bigoted against the Irish? Of course they would.
But no one targets Ireland, or any other country, like so many people target Israel, despite its love of life, democratic system, commitment to freedom, and equal treatment under law. That’s the double standard of antisemitism in action.
Separating antisemitism from criticism of Israeli policy is not difficult. As with pornography, “I know it when I see it.”
But if that’s not enough, there are two simple tests to help decipher the difference.
A good rule of thumb is that, if you can take a statement and replace the words “Israel,” “Israeli,” and “Zionist” with “Jew,” “Jewish,” and “Jewish people,” and that statement then sounds like it came straight out of the Dark Ages or Nazi Germany, it is probably antisemitic. The same goes for replacing “Zionism” with “Judaism.” Just try it and see if that person calling to eliminate “vermin Zionists” or using the term “zio” or “israeli” — both always lowercased — is really just critical of Israeli policy.
Another test is to ask the following question: Is it just a coincidence that Israel happens to be the world’s only Jewish state? When someone accuses Israel of genocide in Gaza but pays little attention to any other conflict in the world, ask this question. When someone claims Israel has no strategic value to the US as an ally and should be cut off, ask this question. And when someone repeatedly promotes conspiracy theories involving Israel without evidence, ask this question. Eventually, it will become obvious when it is not just a coincidence.
Pro-Israel rally in Times Square, New York City, US, Oct. 8, 2023. Photo: REUTERS/Jeenah Moon
The Will to Endure
The Jewish people have overcome great empires seeking to destroy them for millennia. Today, they have both reestablished their ancient homeland in the Land of Israel and thrived in the diaspora.
In short, Jews are no longer victims, which much of the world has become accustomed to and known them to be. This reality triggers bewilderment, which can lead to admiration. “All things are mortal but the Jew; all other forces pass, but he remains. What is the secret of his immortality?” Mark Twain wrote with wonder in an 1899 essay. Often, however, bewilderment with the Jewish story is combined with envy and resentment, paving the way for antisemitism.
The post-Oct. 7 world, one in which virulent opposition to Israel and rampant attacks on Jews have surged, marks the latest chapter of an old story.
Tragically, Jews around the world must face a harsh reality: The alarming surge of antisemitism over the past two years is not a new phenomenon but rather a return to the historical norm.
Education and exposure to Jews in one-on-one or small group situations can help combat antisemitism on an individual level, but ultimately there is no cure for the larger virus. Jews have always been, and continue to be, a scapegoat for the full spectrum of radicals — from Islamists, to far-right white supremacists, to far-left activists who blame Israel for all problems.
But the Jews will once again have the audacity to survive. And Israel, the haven for history’s most beleaguered people, isn’t going anywhere.
What does all this mean? In a sentence, antisemitism will endure, and so too will the Jews.
Aaron Kliegman is the executive editor of The Algemeiner.
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250 years of American Jewish life is a miracle. Don’t take it for granted.
When I moved from Belgium to the United States for graduate school in the early 2000s, international-student orientation warned me about three areas in which I would experience culture shock: doctors, dating, and food. They were right: I am still looking for good chocolate. But what nobody mentioned was that culture shock can also work in the other direction: you can encounter something so different in a good way that it, too, takes time to understand. For me, that was American Jewish life.
The Judaism I had grown up with in Belgium was timid and a little subdued; it felt to me as though it did not quite dare to put down roots or imagine itself as fully Belgian. American Judaism bewildered me at first by its sheer pluralism: so many denominations, and within them so many people experimenting with what it meant to be and do Jewish in this country and in this world.
Even more surprising was its creativity — the music, the intellectual life, the social activism, the constant invention of new institutions, rituals and communities. It was also loud and argumentative. American Jews tangled about Judaism, politics, Zionism and one another. The old story about two Jews having three opinions was not a joke here but a reality.
I loved it. Not because I agreed with all of it — I certainly did not — but because even the arguing seemed to me evidence that American Jews did not feel they had to hide or be discreet, not even about their disagreements.
Of course, Jewish success in the United States did not mean that America offered the same possibilities to everyone. Jewish integration took place in a country whose deepest structures of exclusion targeted Black Americans. That inequality is part of the American Jewish story and complicates any account of its success.Nor was the American Jewish experience free of prejudice: American Jews encountered social ostracism, quotas in higher education, exclusion from neighborhoods and country clubs, and violence.
And yet, over 250 years, Jews in the United States became deeply woven into the political, cultural and civic life of the country. How the encounter between Jewish traditions brought from many parts of the world and the particular freedoms, tensions and possibilities of American life produced a distinctively American form of Judaism is a question that has stayed with me ever since, and America’s 250th anniversary seems like a good moment to return to it.
I think part of the answer lies in the American idea of hyphenated identities. In a country of immigrants from many parts of the world, the hyphen suggested a social architecture, albeit imperfect, that allowed for multiple communities to coexist within a larger whole. By contrast the Europe in which I grew up remained more attached to myths of national homogeneity that made Jewish belonging harder.
But today, across the political spectrum, people are asking what America as an idea and a national community stands for. Historically, such moments have often made Jews a test case for the limits of inclusion. To those who imagine the nation as a homogenous family, Jews are strangers; to those who imagine it as a universal community, Jews often seem too particularistic.
Amid rising antisemitism, the aftermath of Oct. 7, turmoil on university campuses and intense political polarization, it is not surprising then that many American Jews are feeling anxious about the future. The pessimists believe something fundamental is broken and wonder whether it is time to keep a packed suitcase ready. The optimists insist that America remains different, even exceptional, and that American institutions and laws are strong. This too shall pass, they say.
As a historian, I am skeptical of both positions. The past is full of moments that look inevitable in retrospect because, once we know what happened, it becomes harder to imagine other outcomes. But in the moment, multiple futures are always possible. History cannot tell us which one will become ours, but it can broaden the range of possibilities we are able to see.
That is one reason I created a new public course at Brandeis this fall, America and Its Jews at 250. I wanted to see what becomes visible when the questions troubling American Jews today are placed against that much longer historical horizon. Over the course of the semester, 28 scholars and public thinkers will examine the relationship between Jews and America from the colonial period to the present. At a moment when so much attention is understandably focused on Israel, I also wanted us to look more closely at the American Jewish experience and what Jews built here.
Doing this at Brandeis is especially meaningful. Many of America’s oldest and most influential universities grew out of Christian religious communities. Brandeis represented something different: the possibility that a university could be rooted in American Jewish life while being as intellectually ambitious and universal as any of them. A course about America and its Jews belongs in that tradition because these are not two histories that happened in parallel; they are intertwined.
Time has cured most of my culture shock, but I have not forgotten the surprise I felt 26 years ago at the vibrancy and pluralism of American Jewish life. Much of our discussions, in this anniversary year, focus on the country’s uneven path toward more justice and equality, and rightly so. But that should not obscure the immense creativity that this messy and contested American experiment made possible. American Jews embraced its possibilities with a vitality that produced forms of Judaism few of their forebears would have recognized, yet that remain deeply connected to what came before. That dynamism also produced disagreements and fragmentation, and anxiety about what still holds Jews together.
Culture and creativity depend on the soil in which they develop. Protecting American jewish life therefore means not only to fight for Jews and Judaism, but also for the pluralistic republic that allowed them to flourish. Perhaps one day historians will give this entanglement of Judaism and America a name. But for now it remains unnamed because it is still being made, and because its future, I hope, is still in our hands.
The post 250 years of American Jewish life is a miracle. Don’t take it for granted. appeared first on The Forward.
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El-Sayed defends opposing Israel aid as he woos Jewish voters
Dr. Abdul El-Sayed made opposition to U.S. military aid to Israel a defining issue of his campaign in Michigan’s Democratic Senate primary. On Sunday, as the party’s nominee, El-Sayed explained why he supported sending American military aid to Ukraine in its war against Russia but opposes sending aid to Israel as it fights Hamas and other armed groups in the region.
“In Ukraine, you’re talking about attacks from a leader of a neighboring sovereign country, who clearly violated international law in attempting to breach the sovereignty of the Ukrainian public,” El-Sayed said in an interview on NBC’s Meet the Press. “That is conditional on that circumstance.”
As for Israel, he argued, the United States has “been offering unconditional foreign military aid to Israel independent of the circumstances for years and years and years.”
The distinction comes as El-Sayed tries to draw a clearer line around his position on Israel aid as he moves into the general election, following a narrow victory over Rep. Haley Stevens, who was backed by AIPAC and other pro-Israel Jewish groups.
Since his primary win, El-Sayed said in media appearances that his opposition to unconditional military aid — including funding to the Iron Dome defense system — goes beyond Israel. He pointed to Egypt, where his parents were born, as well as to Saudi Arabia and Jordan, saying those U.S. allies should not receive unconditional American military support either.
“It’s not just Israel,” El-Sayed said, adding, “It’s about the conditions.”
When pressed on whether there was any scenario in which he would support military aid to Israel, El-Sayed said he could consider supporting it if Israelis and Palestinians reached an agreement that guaranteed, as he described it, the “Palestinian people and Jewish Israeli people” equal rights to “peace, dignity, and self-determination.” During the primary, El-Sayed stopped short of explicitly backing a two-state solution.
The Jewish voter test
El-Sayed’s position on Israel is becoming a test of whether he can unite Democrats for the general election in one of the nation’s most important swing states. Many Jewish Democrats remain uneasy with his rhetoric on Israel — including his calling Israel “bloodthirsty” — even as the party needs their support to defeat Republican Mike Rogers and improve its chances of winning back the Senate.
The Jewish Democratic Council of America, which backed Stevens and said its volunteers made nearly 100,000 calls on her behalf, said that the “razor-thin margin” in El-Sayed’s victory is evidence that pro-Israel Democrats remain an important electorate within the party.
Halie Soifer, JDCA’s chief executive and a Michigan native, said in a Substack post Friday that Jewish Democrats are standing “on a political fault line” after El-Sayed’s victory. “Jewish voters’ concern with El-Sayed and other far-left candidates is rooted in concern for our safety and security given rising antisemitism and antisemitic violence, including when Jews are blamed for the actions of Israel,” she wrote.
Jewish voters make up just 1.4% of the electorate in Michigan, but they could still prove decisive in a close race. Michigan has been decided by narrow margins in recent elections: Donald Trump won the state in 2016, Joe Biden flipped it in 2020, and Sen. Elissa Slotkin narrowly won her Senate race in 2024 even as Trump carried the state in the presidential race.
AIPAC’s super PAC, United Democracy Project, which spent more than $30 million in the primary, is reportedly weighing additional spending in the general election to boost Rogers. It would likely be joined by other groups, including the centrist Democratic groups Third Way and Welcome PAC, as well as the Republican Jewish Coalition.
Jeremy Ben-Ami, president of the liberal pro-Israel group J Street — a progressive alternative to AIPAC — urged El-Sayed to take a different approach to the Jewish voters who opposed him. Ben-Ami wrote in a Substack post that El-Sayed should spend significant time listening to Jewish Michiganders and their concerns about vulnerability and antisemitism, while making clear “in words and in actions” that Jews who care deeply about Israel have a place in his coalition.
‘I love and revere Judaism’
In the Sunday interview, El-Sayed sought to reassure Jewish voters who remain skeptical of him.
Asked to respond to President Donald Trump’s comments that El-Sayed “hates” Israel and Jewish people “with a passion that burns in his heart,” El-Sayed said, “I love and revere Judaism and the Jewish people. I believe they’re a light unto the world.”
El-Sayed recalled growing up in Bloomfield Hills, a metro Detroit community with a large Jewish population, and being invited to Passover Seders, synagogues and bar and bat mitzvahs. “I’m really honored for what I learned and got to share with my Jewish sisters and brothers,” he said. “But they are not the same as AIPAC and Israel.”
The candidate also disavowed some remarks by Hasan Piker, the popular pundit and streamer who has been accused of antisemitic rhetoric and who appeared with El-Sayed on the campaign trail. El-Sayed said Piker’s statement that “America deserved 9/11” was “dumb,” though he did not commit to ending campaign appearances with him.
The test in the coming months is whether El-Sayed can win over skeptical Jewish and moderate Democrats without moderating his views on Israel or losing the progressive and pro-Palestinian voters who propelled him to victory.
The post El-Sayed defends opposing Israel aid as he woos Jewish voters appeared first on The Forward.
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The Nakba exhibit and the importance of historical context

By NOAH STRAUSS When I went to the Nakba Exhibit, I was shocked, not by the contents of the exhibit but by its size. The exhibit was tiny in my eyes, and I thought the amount of outcry was excessive for an exhibit that is less than 500 words. It felt like every other day the National Post had an article about the exhibit, criticizing different aspects of it. But then I had a realization: the exhibit was never criticized because it was “too” big, but because of the contents of it. When I was toured by the curator, I actually asked her, “Where is the rest of it?” I was confused because I had been misled by the media to believe the size of the exhibit was massive.
I believe that every human being should be able to live a free life. No human should be bullied for who they are. That is not okay, and to some credit, the Nakba exhibit does cover this. But where my problem now comes into play is the fact that the museum fails to portray the full history surrounding the Nakba.
The museum is publicly funded; our taxpayers’ dollars go there. It is supposed to represent our nation and our beliefs, not take a side on history. The Museum did exactly that. It took a side, and guess what? It caused chaos.
Whenever asked why it does not show the other side of history, the museum would always say something along the lines of: our space is limited, the focus of the exhibit is solely the Nakba, etc. But to me, these are excuses, and I will call that out.
For context, the Nakba was an event that occurred around 1948 after the 1947 UN Partition Plan. The Nakba continued until about 1949. During this time, approximately 750,000 Palestinians were either forced out or left what is now Israel.
The Museum is contributing to concerns surrounding the rise of antisemitism. The Museum has failed to mention that during the same era as the Nakba, hundreds of thousands of Jewish people were displaced from Middle Eastern and North African countries, with many forced to leave because of their religion.
Context matters. Yes, 750,000 Palestinians were displaced, but what happened during the same era also left hundreds of thousands of Jewish people without homes. When a visitor with no historical context walks in to see what the “Jewish” people did to the Palestinians, of course they’re going to blame the Jews. Because it makes me, a Jewish person, look terrible.
In my view, the exhibit contributes to concerns about growing antisemitism by presenting an incomplete historical narrative.
But then, as Jewish people, we need to know when it’s time to move forward. We need to focus on how we can positively portray the Jewish community and show the world who we are, rather than allowing others to define us through a one-sided historical narrative.
Noah Strauss is a 15-year-old Gray Academy student

