Uncategorized
Letty Cottin Pogrebin wants Jews to own up to the corrosive power of shame
(JTA) — When a lawyer for Donald Trump asked E. Jean Carroll why she didn’t scream while allegedly being raped by Donald Trump, I thought of Letty Cottin Pogrebin. In her latest book, “Shanda: A Memoir of Shame and Secrecy,” she writes about being assaulted by a famous poet — and how the shadow of shame kept women like her silent about attacks on their own bodies.
That incident in 1962, she writes, was “fifty-eight years before the #MeToo movement provided the sisterhood and solidarity that made survivors of abuse and rape feel safe enough to tell their stories.”
Now 83, Pogrebin could have coasted with a memoir celebrating her six decades as a leading feminist: She co-founded Ms. magazine, its Foundation for Women and the National Women’s Political Caucus. She served as president of Americans for Peace Now and in 1982 blew the whistle on antisemitism in the feminist movement.
Instead, “Shanda” is about her immigrant Jewish family and the secrets they carried through their lives. First marriages that were kept hidden. An unacknowledged half-sister. Money problems and domestic abuse. An uncle banished for sharing family dirt in public.
“My mania around secrecy and shame was sparked in 1951 by the discovery that my parents had concealed from me the truth about their personal histories, and every member of my large extended family, on both sides, was in on it,” writes Pogrebin, now 83. “Their need to avoid scandal was so compelling that, once identified, it provided the lens through which I could see my family with fresh eyes, spotlight their fears, and, in so doing, illuminate my own.”
“Shanda” (the Yiddish word describes the kind of behavior that brings shame on an entire family or even a people) is also a portrait of immigrant New York Jews in the 20th century. As her father and mother father move up in the world and leave their Yiddish-speaking, Old World families behind for new lives in the Bronx and Queens, they stand in for a generation of Jews and new Americans “bent on saving face and determined to be, if not exemplary, at least impeccably respectable.”
Pogrebin and I spoke last week ahead of the Eight Over Eighty Gala on May 31, where she will be honored with a group that includes another Jewish feminist icon, the writer Erica Jong, and musician Eve Queler, who founded her own ensemble, the Opera Orchestra of New York, when she wasn’t being given chances to conduct in the male-dominated world of classical music. The gala is a fundraiser for the New Jewish Home, a healthcare nonprofit serving older New Yorkers.
Pogrebin and I spoke about shame and how it plays out in public and private, from rape accusations against a former president to her regrets over how she wrote about her own abortions to how the Bible justifies family trickery.
Our conversation was edited for length and clarity.
I found your book very moving because my parents’ generation, who like your family were middle-class Jews who grew up or lived in the New York metropolitan area, are also all gone now. Your book brought back to me that world of aunts and uncles and cousins, and kids like us who couldn’t imagine what kinds of secrets and traumas our parents and relatives were hiding. But you went back and asked all the questions that many of us are afraid to ask.
I can’t tell you how good writing it has been. I feel as though I have no weight on my back. And people who have read it gained such comfort from the normalization that happens when you read that others have been through what you’ve been through. And my family secrets are so varied — just one right after the other. The chameleon-like behavior of that generation — they became who they wanted to be through pretense or actual accomplishment.
In my mother’s case, pretense led the way. She went and got a studio photo that made it look like she graduated from high school when she didn’t. In the eighth grade, she went up to her uncle’s house in the north Bronx and had her dates pick her up there because of the shanda of where she lived on the Lower East Side with nine people in three rooms. She had to imagine herself the child of her uncle, who didn’t have an accent or had an accent but at least spoke English.
You describe yours as “an immigrant family torn between loyalty to their own kind and longing for American acceptance.”
There was the feeling that, “If only we could measure up, we would be real Americans.” My mother was a sewing machine operator who became a designer and figured out what American women wore when she came from rags and cardboard shoes, in steerage. So I admire them. As much as I was discomforted by the lies, I ended up having compassion for them.
It’s also a story of thwarted women, and all that lost potential of a generation in which few could contemplate a college degree or a career outside the home. Your mother worked for a time as a junior designer for Hattie Carnegie, a sort of Donna Karan of her day, but abandoned that after she met your dad and became, as you write, “Mrs. Jack Cottin.”
The powerlessness of women was complicated in the 1950s by the demands of the masculine Jewish ideal. So having a wife who didn’t work was proof that you were a man who could provide. As a result women sacrificed their own aspirations and passions. She protected her husband’s image by not pursuing her life outside the home. In a way my feminism is a positive, like a photograph, to the negative of my mother’s 1950s womanhood.
“I’m not an optimist. I call myself a ‘cockeyed strategist,” said Pogrebin, who has a home on the Upper West Side. (Mike Lovett)
You write that you “think of shame and secrecy as quintessentially Jewish issues.” What were the Jewish pressures that inspired your parents to tell so many stories that weren’t true?
Think about what we did. We hid behind our names. We changed our names. We sloughed off our accents. My mother learned to make My*T*Fine pudding instead of gefilte fish. Shame and secrecy have always been intrinsically Jewish to me, because of the “sha!” factor: At every supper party, there would be the moment when somebody would say, “Sha! We don’t talk about that!” So even though we talked about what felt like everything, there were things that couldn’t be touched: illness, the C-word [cancer]. If you wanted to make a shidduch [wedding match] with another family in the insular communities in which Jews lived, you couldn’t let it be known that there was cancer in the family, or mental illness.
While I was writing this memoir, I realized that the [Torah portion] I’m listening to one Shabbat morning is all about hiding. It is Jacob finding out that he didn’t marry Rachel, after all, but married somebody he didn’t love. All of the hiding that I took for granted in the Bible stories and I was raised on like mother’s milk was formative. They justified pretense, and they justified trickery. Rebecca lied to her husband and presented her younger son Jacob for the blessing because God told her, because it was for the greater good of the future the Jewish people.
I think Jews felt that same sort of way when it came to surviving. So we can get rid of our names. We wouldn’t have survived, whether we were hiding in a forest or behind a cabinet, a name or a passport, or [pushed into hiding] with [forced] conversions. Hiding was survival.
I was reading your book just as the E. Jean Carroll verdict came down, holding Donald Trump liable for sexually assaulting her during an encounter in the mid-’90s. You write how in 1962, when you were working as a book publicist, the hard-drinking Irish poet Brendan Behan (who died in 1964) tried to rape you in a hotel room and you didn’t report it. Like Carroll, you didn’t think that it was something that could be reported because the cost was too high.
Certainly in that era powerful men could get away with horrible behavior because of shanda reasons.
Carroll said in her court testimony, “It was shameful to go to the police.”
You know that it happened to so many others and nobody paid the price. The man’s reputation was intact and we kept our jobs because we sacrificed our dignity and our truth. I was in a career, and I really was supporting myself. I couldn’t afford to lose my job. I would have been pilloried for having gone to his hotel room, and nobody was there when he picked up an ashtray and threatened to break the window of the Chelsea Hotel unless I went up there with him.The cards were stacked against me.
In “Shanda,” you write about another kind of shame: The shame you now feel decades later about how you described the incident in your first book. You regret “how blithely I transformed an aggravated assault by a powerful man into a ‘sticky sexual encounter.’”
I wrote about the incident in such offhand terms, and wonder why. I wrote, basically, “Okay, girls, you’re gonna have to put up with this, but you’re gonna have to find your own magical sentence like I had with Behan” to get him to stop.
You write that you said, “You can’t do this to me! I’m a nice Jewish girl!” And that got him to back off.
Really painful.
I think that’s a powerful aspect of your book — how you look back at the ways you let down the movement or your family or friends and now regret. In 1991 you wrote a New York Times essay about an illegal abortion you had as a college senior in 1958, but not the second one you had only a few months later. While you were urging women to tell their stories of abortion, you note how a different shame kept you from telling the whole truth.
Jewish girls could be, you know, plain or ordinary, but they had to be smart, and I had been stupid. I could out myself as one of the many millions of women who had an abortion but not as a Jewish girl who made the same mistake [of getting pregnant] twice.
The book was written before the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade. In the book you write powerfully about the shame, danger and loneliness among women when abortion was illegal, and now, after 50 years, it is happening again. Having been very much part of the generation of activists that saw Roe become the law of the land, how have you processed its demise?
Since the 1970s, we thought everything was happening in this proper linear way. We got legislation passed, we had litigation and we won, and we saw the percentage of women’s participation in the workplace all across professions and trades and everything else rise and rise. And then Ronald Reagan was elected and then there was the Moral Majority and then it was the Hyde Amendment [barring the use of federal funds to pay for abortion]. I was sideswiped because I think I was naive enough to imagine that once we articulated what feminism was driving at and why women’s rights were important, and how the economic reality of families and discrimination against women weren’t just women’s issues, people would internalize it and understand it and justice would be done.
In the case of Roe, we could not imagine that rights could ever be taken away. We didn’t do something that we should have done, which is to have outed ourselves in a big way. It’s not enough that abortion was legal. We allowed it to remain stigmatized. We allowed the right wing to create their own valence around it. That negated solidarity. If we had talked about abortion as healthcare, if we had had our stories published and created organizations around remembering what it was like and people telling their stories about when abortion was illegal and dangerous…. Instead we allowed the religious right to prioritize [fetal] cells over a woman’s life. We just were not truthful with each other, so we didn’t create solidarity.
Are you heartened by the backlash against restrictive new laws in red states or optimistic that the next wave of activism can reclaim the right to abortion?
I’m not an optimist. I call myself a “cockeyed strategist.” If you look at my long resume, it is all about organizing: Ms. magazine, feminist organizations, women’s foundations, Black-Jewish dialogues, Torah study groups and Palestinian-Jewish dialogues.
Number one, we have to own the data and reframe the narrative. We have to open channels for discussion for women who have either had one or know someone who has had one, even in religious Catholic families. The state-by-state strategy was really slow, but Ruth Bader Ginsburg wanted that. She almost didn’t get on the court because she didn’t like the nationwide, right-to-privacy strategy of Roe but instead wanted it won state by state, which would have required campaigns of acceptance and consciousness-raising.
So, the irony is she hasn’t lived to see that we’re going to have to do it her way.
You share a lot of family secrets in this book. Is this a book that you waited to write until, I’ll try to put this gently, most of the people had died?
I started this book when I was 78 years old, and there’s always a connection to my major birthdays. And turning 80 – you experience that number and it is so weird. It doesn’t describe me and it probably won’t describe you. I thought, this could well be my last book, so I needed to be completely transparent, put it all out there.
My mother and father and aunts and uncles were gone, but I have 24 cousins altogether. I went to my cousins, and told them I am going to write about the secret of your parents: It’s my uncle, but it’s your father. It’s your family story even though it’s my family, but it’s yours first. And every cousin, uniformly, said, “Are you kidding? You don’t even know the half of it,” and they’d tell me the whole story. I guess people want the truth out in the end.
Is that an aspect of getting older?
I think it’s a promise of liberation, which is what I have found. It’s this experience of being free from anything that I’ve hid. I don’t have to hide. Years ago, on our 35th wedding anniversary, we took our whole family to the Tenement Museum because we wanted them to see how far we’ve come in two generations.
—
The post Letty Cottin Pogrebin wants Jews to own up to the corrosive power of shame appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
Uncategorized
Argentina rabbi: What can can learn from losing the World Cup?
דעם פֿאַרגאַנגענעם זונטיק, גלײַך נאָכן סוף פֿונעם וועלט־בעכער טורניי 2026 האָב איך אָנגערופֿן אַ גוטן פֿרײַנד אין אַרגענטינע, כּדי צו הערן ווי עס גייט אים.
איך בין ממש צעבראָכן — האָט ער געזאָגט — פֿאַרוואָס האָט דער אויבערשטער דאָס געטאָן?!
האָב איך אים געענטפֿערט: — איך בין נישט דעם אויבערשטנס בוכהאַלטער, און זיכער נישט זײַן אַדוואָקאַט. איך ווייס נישט פֿאַרוואָס ער טוט וואָס ער טוט, און פֿאַרוואָס ער טוט נישט וואָס ער טוט נישט. איך מיין אַז די וויכטיקסטע פֿראַגע איז נישט: „פֿאַרוואָס איז דאָס געשען“? נאָר גיכער: „וואָס איצט? וואָס קענען מיר זיך דערפֿון לערנען?“
האָט ער מיך געפֿרעגט, וואָס איך האַלט איז דער מוסה־השׂכּל. האָב איך אים געפֿרעגט צי ער געדענקט די מעשׂה פֿון יונה.
— אַוודאי. דער פֿיש האָט אים אײַנגעשלונגען.
ריכטיק — האָב איך געזאָגט — אָבער דאָס איז בלויז דער ערשטער טייל פֿון דער מעשׂה. נאָך דעם וואָס יונה האָט אין נינווה איבערגעגעבן די נבֿואה, מיט וועלכער דער אויבערשטער האָט אים געשיקט, איז ער אַרויס פֿון שטאָט און זיך אַוועקגעזעצט צו זען וואָס עס וועט ווערן.
דער אויבערשטער האָט דעמאָלט געמאַכט אויפֿוואַקסן אַ קיקיון, וואָס האָט אים געגעבן שאָטן, און יונה האָט זיך זייער געפֿרייט. אָבער אויף מאָרגן האָט דער אויבערשטער געשיקט אַ וואָרעם, וואָס האָט פֿאַרדאָרבן דעם קיקיון, און דער בוים איז פֿאַרטריקנט געוואָרן.
ווען די זון האָט שטאַרק געברענט, האָט יונה געליטן פֿון דער היץ און איז געוואָרן גאָר פֿאַרצווייפֿלט. האָט אים דער אויבערשטער געפֿרעגט: טרויערסטו איבערן קיקיון?
און יונה האָט געענטפֿערט: יאָ, ביז צום טויט.
האָט דער אויבערשטער געזאָגט: דו באַדויערסט אַ קיקיון, וואָס דו האָסט נישט פֿאַרפֿלאַנצט און נישט אויפֿגעהאָדעוועט. אין איין נאַכט איז ער אויפֿגעקומען, און אין איין נאַכט איז ער פֿאַרגאַנגען.
און זאָל איך דען נישט רחמנות האָבן אויף דער גרויסער שטאָט נינווה, וווּ עס וווינען מער פֿון צוועלף טויזנט מענטשן?“…
די מעשׂה שטעלט אונדז פֿאָר אַ פּשוטע אָבער טיפֿע פֿראַגע: וואָס פֿאַרדינט טאַקע אונדזער גרעסטע זאָרג?
און דאָ קומען מיר צוריק צום וועלט־בעכער. עס איז גאָר פֿאַרשטענדלעך, אַז אַן אַרגענטינער זאָל זײַן אַנטוישט ווען זײַן מאַנשאַפֿט פֿאַרשפּילט. ספּאָרט רופֿט אַרויס שטאַרקע געפֿילן, און דאָס איז דווקא איינע פֿון די סיבות, פֿאַרוואָס מענטשן האָבן עס אַזוי ליב.
— דײַן טרויער איז נישט קיין חסרון — האָב איך אים געזאָגט — פֿאַרקערט. עס ווײַזט, אַז דו ביסט אַ מענטש מיט געפֿיל. און געפֿיל איז אַ טײַערע מידה.
אָבער ווען די ערשטע אַנטוישונג הייבט שוין אָן זיך אָפּצושוואַכן, איז כּדאַי זיך צו פֿרעגן: וואָס נאָך אין לעבן פֿאַרדינט אַזאַ מאָס פֿון דײַן איבערגעגעבנקייט?
באַטראַכט נאָר אַ מאָמענט. דו האָסט נישט געקענט ברענגען דעם נצחון, און דו האָסט אויך נישט גורם געווען די מפּלה. און דאָך האָט דער רעזולטאַט, וואָס איז בכלל נישט געווען אין דײַנע הענט, אַזוי שטאַרק באַווירקט דײַנע געפֿילן.
אפֿשר וואָלט זיך געלוינט אַרײַנצולייגן די זעלבע עמאָציאָנעלע ענערגיע אין אַן אַנדער מין „פֿאַרמעסט“ — אין אַזאַ, וווּ דײַנע באַשלוסן און דײַנע מעשׂים קענען טאַקע מאַכן אַן אמתן חילוק.
וואָס פֿאַר אַ פֿאַרמעסט מיין איך? דאָ קומט אַרײַן אַן אויסערגעוויינטלעכע הוראה פֿונעם רמב״ם.
דער רמב״ם שרײַבט, אַז יעדער מענטש דאַרף שטענדיק זען זיך אַליין און די גאַנצע וועלט ווי פּונקט באַלאַנצירט צווישן זכות און חובֿה.
איין מצווה. איין גוט וואָרט. איין מעשׂה פֿון חסד. אַפֿילו איין גוטער געדאַנק.
יעדער איינער פֿון זיי קען איבערוועגן די גאַנצע וואָג לטובֿה — נישט נאָר פֿאַר זיך אַליין, נאָר פֿאַר דער גאַנצער וועלט.
מיר טראַכטן אָפֿט: וואָס מאַכט אויס וואָס איך׳ל טאָן? איך בין דאָך בלויז איין מענטש צווישן אַכט ביליאָן? דער רמב״ם בעט אונדז צו קוקן אויף דער וועלט מיט אַנדערע אויגן:
שטעל זיך פֿאָר אַ וואָג. אויף איין זײַט שטייען פֿיר ביליאָן מענטשן. אויף דער צווייטער זײַט — נאָך פֿיר ביליאָן. די וואָג איז פּונקט באַלאַנצירט. איצט שטעל זיך פֿאָר, אַז דו טרעטסט צו און באַשליסט אויף וועלכער זײַט זיך צו שטעלן. אין יענער רגע ווערט דײַן באַשלוס דער באַשליסנדיקער. דו ביסט דער וואָס האָט איבערגעוואָגן די גאַנצע וואָג.
אויב דאָס קלינגט צו אַבסטראַקט, לאָמיר זיך אומקערן צום וועלט־בעכער.
דער גאַנצער טורניר — נאָך וואָכן פֿון שפּילן, צענדליקער נאַציאָנאַלע מאַנשפֿאַטן און הונדערטער שפּילער — איז דער סוף באַשלאָסן געוואָרן דורך איין איינציקן מאָמענט.
איין שפּילער. איין גאָל. אַזוי איז אויך אין דער רוחניותדיקער וועלט.
דער גרויסער געראַנגל צווישן גוטס און שלעכטס, וואָס באַגלייט די גאַנצע געשיכטע פֿון דער מענטשהייט, קען אויסזען ווי עפּעס צו גרויס, כּדי אַ יחיד זאָל קענען אײַנווירקן דערויף.
אָבער אויב די וואָג איז טאַקע באַלאַנצירט, ווי דער רמב״ם באַשרײַבט, קען דער גאַנצער סוף־רעזולטאַט אָפּהענגען פֿון איין מענטש. פֿון איין מצווה. פֿון איין גוט וואָרט. פֿון איין גוטן געדאַנק.
און יענער מענטש קען זײַן דווקא דו אַליין. מיט דעם באַשלוס וואָס ליגט הײַנט אין דײַנע הענט.
עס איז דאָ נאָך אַן ענין, וואָס דער וועלט־בעכער קען אונדז לערנען. די נבֿיאים באַשרײַבן אַ צײַט, ווען די וועלט וועט דערגרייכן איר אמתן ציל. דעמאָלט וועט דער משיח קומען און ברענגען אַן עפּאָכע פֿון שלום, גערעכטיקייט און אַלגעמיינער דערקענונג פֿון גאָט.
קען מען זיך פֿרעגן: ווי אַזוי איז עס מעגלעך, אַז איין מענטש זאָל אינספּירירן די גאַנצע וועלט?
אָבער טראַכט צוריק וועגן דעם וואָס מיר האָבן פּונקט איצט מיטגעזען. ביליאָנען מענטשן האָבן אין איין אויגנבליק זיך צוגעקוקט אויף איין מענטש: ליאָנעל מעסי.
פֿאַר אַ קורצן מאָמענט איז ער געוואָרן דער צענטער פֿונעם אויפֿמערק פֿון ביליאָנען מענטשן!
אויב דאָס איז מעגלעך אין דער וועלט פֿון ספּאָרט, איז עס נאָך מער פֿאַרשטענדלעך, אַז עס וועט קומען אַ טאָג, ווען די גאַנצע מענטשהייט וועט זיך ווענדן צו אַ פֿירער, וועמענס כּוח וועט נישט ליגן אין זײַנע פֿיס, נאָר אין זײַן רוח.
משיח וועט נישט פֿאַראייניקן מענטשן אַרום אַ פּילקע. ער וועט פֿאַראייניקן זיי אַרום אמת. אַרום גוטסקייט. אַרום גערעכטיקייט. אַרום שלום. און אַרום דער ידיעה פֿון ג-טליכקייט.
איך האָב דעמאָלט צוגעגעבן מיט ַא שמייכל: „ס׳איז דאָ אַ טשיקאַווער צופֿאַל. דער נאָמען Messi קלינגט ַא ביסל ענלעך צו Messiah.
אַוודאי איז דאָס בלויז אַ לשון־צופֿאַל. אָבער אַ מאָל קען אַ קליינע צופֿעליקייט דינען ווי אַ בריק צו אַ גרעסערן געדאַנק. און דער געדאַנק איז פּשוט:
אויב די גאַנצע וועלט קען זיך פֿאַראייניקן אַרום אַ פֿוסבאָל־פֿינאַל, אויב ביליאָנען מענטשן קענען זיך טיילן די זעלבע האָפֿענונג, די זעלבע שפּאַנונג און די זעלבע באַגײַסטערונג, דערמאָנט דאָס אונדז, אַז די מענטשהייט איז פֿעיִק זיך צו פֿאַראייניקן.
די פֿראַגע איז נאָר: אַרום וואָס?
די נבֿיאים זעען פֿאָרויס א טאָג, ווען די וועלט וועט זיך פֿאַראייניקן נישט אַרום קיין שפּיל, נאָר אַרום אַ ציל. נישט אַרום אַ געווינער, נאָר אַרום אמת. נישט אַרום אַ גאָל, נאָר אַרום דעם אויבערשטן.
און ביז עס קומט יענער טאָג, האָט יעדער איינער פֿון אונדז זײַן אייגענע ראָלע. מיר דאַרפֿן נישט וואַרטן אויף אַ פֿולן סטאַדיאָן. מיר דאַרפֿן נישט וואַרטן אויף אַ וועלט־פֿינאַל. און מיר דאַרפֿן זיכער נישט וואַרטן ביז אַלע אַנדערע וועלן טאָן וואָס זיי דאַרפֿן טאָן.
די געלעגנהייט ליגט פֿאַר אונדז יעדן טאָג. יעדער באַשלוס. יעדער גוט וואָרט. יעדע מצוה. יעדער אַקט פֿון חסד. זיי אַלע זײַנען מער באַטײַטנדיק, ווי מיר שטעלן זיך פֿאָר.
אפֿשר וועלן מיר קיינמאָל נישט וויסן, ווי ווײַט די השפּעה פֿון אַן איינציקער מעשׂה האָט זיך פֿאַרשפּרייט. אָבער לויט דעם רמב״ם דאַרפֿן מיר לעבן מיט דעם באַוווּסטזײַן, אַז עס איז זייער מעגלעך, אַז דווקא יענע מעשׂה האָט איבערגעווויגן די גאַנצע וואָג.
מיר קענען אפֿשר נישט באַשליסן ווער עס זאָל געווינען דעם וועלט־בעכער. אָבער מיר קענען יעדן טאָג באַשליסן וואָס פֿאַר אַ וועלט מיר העלפֿן בויען.
אויב יעדער פֿון אונדז וועט טאָן זײַן טייל, וועלן מיר אַלע צוזאַמען העלפֿן ברענגען דעם טאָג, ווען די וועלט וועט דערגרייכן איר אמתן נצחון — די גאולה האמתית והשלימה, מיט ביאת משיח צדקנו במהרה בימינו, ממש.
The post Argentina rabbi: What can can learn from losing the World Cup? appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
Trump’s messy new deal with Saudi Arabia shows how far Israel has fallen
The American decision to sign a deal granting Saudi Arabia a pathway toward a civilian nuclear program is a terrible development for Israel — not just because Riyadh could one day turn nuclear infrastructure developed with the United States into a weapons capability.
The agreement reflects the collapse of Israeli strategy under Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu since the Hamas attack of Oct. 7, 2023; the erosion of Israel’s influence in the U.S.; and Israel’s descent toward the status of a pariah state.
A day after the deal was announced, Trump — seemingly rattled by the flood of criticism that ensued — said it was dependent on Saudi Arabia joining the Abraham Accords. But he did not clarify what aspect of the Accords he meant; there’s no indication that such a requirement is included in the already-signed deal; and Riyadh has made clear that it will do no such thing until there is concrete progress toward a Palestinian state, which is a fantastical notion under the current Israeli government.
For years, nuclear cooperation represented one of Washington’s greatest sources of leverage over Saudi Arabia. It was long believed that prospect would be used to anchor some kind of pact involving normalization with Israel, binding nuclear safeguards, a regional defense architecture and a united front against Iran. Under such an arrangement, Israel would have established formal relations with the Arab world’s most influential power, and gained both a central role in a new regional security system and enforceable Saudi commitments against pursuit of nuclear weapons.
Washington has now at least begun giving Riyadh the prize — no matter what Trump says, amending the deal post-facto will be at best extraordinarily difficult — without Israel receiving any of the benefits.
That dire truth is the outcome of nearly three years in which Israel has confused military brilliance with strategy, and abandoned almost all public diplomacy as its status in the world plummeted.
No one can deny the extraordinary capabilities displayed by Israel’s armed forces and intelligence services since the Oct. 7 massacre. Hezbollah absorbed devastating blows. Iranian military assets suffered setbacks. Hamas lost thousands of fighters and much of its military infrastructure.
But a sense of true strategy is needed to convert military achievement to political outcomes. Strategy can strengthen alliances, expand legitimacy and leave a country in a stronger geopolitical position than the one in which it entered a conflict.
That seems to be completely beyond Netanyahu’s ability.
In the months immediately following Oct. 7, Israel possessed something extraordinarily rare: overwhelming international legitimacy. Hamas had committed an atrocity that horrified much of the democratic world. Moderate Arab governments viewed Hamas as a dangerous extension of the same Islamist forces that threatened their own stability. Former President Joe Biden’s administration recognized that extraordinary alignment, and sought to build upon it, working toward an ambitious regional framework.
In the early months of war, Hamas faced near-unanimous global pressure to hand over Gaza to a reformed Palestinian Authority, backed by moderate Arab governments. Arab states appeared ready to help marginalize Hamas politically and financially, and make life uncomfortable for its leaders.
For a moment, it was easy to see a path forward in which Saudi Arabia would normalize relations with Israel, with other countries following. A U.S.-led regional alliance facing Iran might integrate Israel into the Middle East more deeply than was ever previously imaginable.
That framework offered Israel the chance to translate the trauma of Oct. 7 into a strategic transformation of the region. Instead, Netanyahu chose an open-ended war whose nebulously defined goals were not achievable by military means alone, amid a reasonable and growing suspicion in the public and around the world that he was doing so to preserve his hold on power.
Every few weeks Israelis heard that Hamas stood on the verge of collapse. Each extension of the war was presented as the last before “complete victory” — which Netanyahu kept claiming was “a step” away. Victory remained perpetually on the horizon as Israel’s international standing collapsed.
Now, Netanyahu is wanted at the Hague. Diplomatic isolation has deepened and economic pressure mounted as boycott movements — including many informal ones — expanded.
And critically, American public opinion has shifted sharply, particularly among younger Americans, threatening the bipartisan foundation upon which Israel’s relationship with Washington has rested for generations.
Recent credible polls show that more Americans now sympathize with Palestinians than with Israelis.
Israelis think this happened because of a propaganda campaign against them on social media, because of antisemitism in Europe, or because of hostile journalists. That is partly true but mostly wrong. These shifts are mostly a result of the posture of the Israeli government.
The reality is that Israel killed tens of thousands of Palestinian civilians, accepted that toll with remarkably little public reflection or regret, and relied on the trauma of Oct. 7 to justify it. Around the world, that proved politically devastating. It is especially absurd considering that Israel paid this extraordinary price without achieving its central objective of removing Hamas from Gaza — which was foreseeable and infuriating.
Things might change if the opposition comes to power in October. The idiotic demonization of the Palestinian Authority might end. Jewish terrorism in the West Bank might be stamped out. Settlement construction beyond the fence line, and certainly illegal outposts, might stop.
Israel might again at least be trying to find a solution to the festering Palestinian issue — or at least prefer to lower the flames. That might, in the long term, bring Saudi Arabia back to the table.
But the U.S, has stopped waiting. That the Saudi deal was signed at all, no matter what Trump says now, suggests that Washington is now basically indifferent to the loss of leverage for a deal favoring Israel.
How to resolve the muddle Trump has made? The key: the agreement appears to not include the possibility of enrichment on Saudi soil, but just general assistance to create a program for nuclear energy. So Trump will be able to say that enrichment must await Saudi normalization with Israel. But Saudi Arabia will still be able to claim the symbolic victory of entering into nuclear collaboration with the U.S.
And so, the regional architecture envisioned in the first months after Oct. 7 has vanished because of the forever-wars Netanyahu has pursued — which also resulted in the deaths of dozens of hostages and more than 1,000 soldiers, badly damaged Israel’s economy, and left the country’s international standing in shambles.
And the strategic alliance between Israel and the U.S. — without which Israel’s very existence will be in danger — is falling apart in front of our eyes, not because of Trump but because we are losing the American people.
This is what you get when you are all brawn and no brain, and all tactics and no strategy.
That realization should define Israel’s coming election far more even than arguments over judicial reform or the Haredi draft. Those who have led Israel into this disaster deserve to be punished. Not just removed from power, but decisively repudiated. They have become a danger to the Zionist project itself.
The post Trump’s messy new deal with Saudi Arabia shows how far Israel has fallen appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
Harvard students have questions after Hillel withdraws its brief against Trump
Jewish Harvard students are still trying to make sense of a baffling turn of events, after Hillel International weighed in on the university’s lawsuit against the Trump administration seeking restoration of federal funding withheld over alleged campus antisemitism — and then just as suddenly withdrew its brief from the U.S. Court of Appeals for the First Circuit.
Hillel International had filed an amicus brief Wednesday supporting Harvard’s suit against the federal government, which seeks to restore roughly $2.7 billion in federal research funding. In its brief, Hillel International acknowledged that antisemitism is an issue at Harvard and other universities, but that “campus life for Jewish students has meaningfully improved” following actions taken by the school.
Less than 24 hours later, Hillel International confirmed that it was withdrawing the brief, citing an error in its internal review process, according to the student newspaper, the Harvard Crimson.
What’s more, Hillel International filed the brief without the knowledge of Harvard Hillel, a campus organization that operates independently, the paper reported.
Hillel’s reversal followed sharp criticism of the brief on social media from some Jewish public figures. Among them was Shabbos Kestenbaum, a Harvard Divinity School graduate who filed a Title VI lawsuit against the university for ignoring antisemitism. He wrote on X that he was “shocked” by the decision.
“Rather than take responsibility for their failure to respond to the explosion of antisemitism on American campuses post October 7th, Hillel has instead decided to support the perpetrators,” Kestenbaum wrote. He encouraged donors to stop giving to Hillel and choose organizations like Chabad or Jewish day schools instead.
Kestenbaum told the Harvard Crimson that Hillel International President Adam Lehman had not seen the brief before the organization filed it. Hillel International did not respond to an inquiry from the Forward to confirm this.
Hillel’s withdrawal of the brief disappointed Tova Kaplan, a recent graduate who testified at a U.S. Commission on Civil Rights hearing on campus antisemitism. The brief cited her testimony.
“While I’m not sure what factors led to this decision, it feels like a prioritization of politics over Jewish students,” Kaplan wrote in a statement to the Forward.
“The Trump administration’s attacks aren’t even designed to help Jewish students — instead, they’re designed to instrumentalize our voices and pain to achieve their own political goals,” she wrote.
Siding with Harvard along with numerous other groups, including civil liberties organizations across the ideological spectrum and 18 other American universities, the withdrawn brief argued that cutting research funding is not a productive way to halt university antisemitism. Harvard’s improvement measures, following recommendations from its own Task Force on Combating Antisemitism and Anti-Israel Bias, have been more effective than what the brief called the “draconian one-size-fits-all approaches of the sort the government here pursues.”
These measures, the withdrawn brief said, “do not help Jewish students or improve the campus climate” but instead, “they disproportionately impact the very Jewish students and Jewish researchers the government purportedly seeks to help.”
But another recent graduate who said he did not want to be identified, sees Hillel’s opposition to the Trump administration’s actions as taking the wrong side of the fight. He believes the federal defunding of Harvard pushes the university to protect Jewish students.
“I think a major reason Harvard’s been making changes is because they’re under threat,” he said.
He also contends Hillel International’s evidence to back its claim that Harvard’s efforts have improved antisemitism are weak — lacking measurable results.
Dani Kobrick, a rising senior, said she is perplexed by Hillel International’s actions.
“I don’t think Hillel needed to submit anything to begin with,” she said. “But I do think that withdrawing it makes a very big statement.”
The post Harvard students have questions after Hillel withdraws its brief against Trump appeared first on The Forward.
