News from Syria shouldn’t distract from what’s been going on in Gaza
By BERNIE BELLAN Amidst the head-spinning news coming out of Syria this past week, it’s easy to forget that there is still a war going on in Gaza. What, exactly, Israel’s government is trying to accomplish there now is not easy to figure out. The Israel Defense Forces would seem to have achieved all their military goals, including completely nullifying Hamas and Islamic Jihad as threats to Israel, so what more does the Israeli government (and here, I want to clearly differentiate between the goals of the government and the goals of the IDF) hope to accomplish? In asking that, I want to reflect on two recent articles that appeared in Haaretz. One was about a Hebrew University professor by the name of Lee Mordechai, who has been carefully cataloguing war crimes that the IDF has been committing in Gaza. Here is the introduction to that Haaretz article: “A woman with a child is shot while waving a white flag ■ Starving girls are crushed to death in line for bread ■ A cuffed 62-year-old man is run over, evidently by a tank ■ An aerial strike targets people trying to help a wounded boy ■ A database of thousands of videos, photos, testimonies, reports and investigations documents the horrors committed by Israel in Gaza” The article goes on to note that “The report Dr. Mordechai has compiled online – “Bearing Witness to the Israel-Gaza War” – constitutes the most methodical and detailed documentation in Hebrew (there is also an English translation) of the war crimes that Israel is perpetrating in Gaza. It is a shocking indictment comprised of thousands of entries relating to the war, to the actions of the government, the media, the Israel Defense Forces and Israeli society in general.”
In talking with many people about what’s been going on in Gaza over the past year and a half, the reaction I often receive when I suggest that Israel achieved all its military goals very early on in this war is: “Good, let them keep on hitting them so that they’ll never pose a threat to Israelis again.” That’s understandable, but the dehumanization of the Palestinians in Gaza is something that many of us find detestable. If Israeli soldiers have lowered themselves to the same level of brutality as their enemies, is that anything to be proud of? As for the rationalizations that by now we’ve become so accustomed to hearing – that you have to fight dirty when you’re fighting terrorists or that the IDF maintains the highest principles of conduct – notwithstanding any evidence to the contrary, simply don’t excuse the kinds of behaviour that Dr. Mordechai describes in graphic detail in his report.
As if that weren’t enough to lead one to doubt Israel’s ongoing campaign in Gaza – which is being pushed forward by the right wing forces who are calling the shots within the Likud-led government of Israel, there was yet another thorough indictment of Israel’s strategy offered up recently, this time by former Defense Minister and Army Chief of Staff Moshe Ayalon, who accused the IDF of engaging in “ethnic cleansing” in northern Gaza. In an interview with Channel 12 news in Israel, Ayalon maintained that “The IDF is not the most moral army in the world.” Later in that same interview, Ayalon offered two clarifications of what he meant by using the term “ethnic cleansing.” According to a report, also in Haaretz, Ayalon explained that “First, his definition of ethnic cleansing did not include genocide, but rather ‘evacuating civilians from their homes and demolishing those homes, as is happening in Beit Hanoun and Beit Lahiya.’ He also said that he does not hold the military responsible for these crimes but rather the government, in particular far-right lawmakers like National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir and Finance Minister Betzalel Smotritch, who have repeatedly declared their intentions to build Jewish settlements in Gaza.”
I would venture to say that, if you didn’t know who it was that offered that assessment of what Israel has been doing in Gaza, you would likely think that it came from one of the usual suspects, such as UN Secretary-General António Guterres. The fact that it came from a former Israeli defense minister, also a former IDF chief of staff, not to mention a member of the Likud Party, should lend it some credibility. But, in the black and white worldview that permeates so many individuals’ thinking when it comes to what Israel has been doing in Gaza, Ayalon would no doubt simply fall into the category of naive critics of Israeli policy according to so many defenders of Israeli government policy.
It’s hard to know where readers of this publication stand, however, on what Israel has been doing in Gaza. There have been almost no letters to the editor commenting on this particular issue – not that letters to the editor offer a true picture of people’s thinking. Further, I don’t make it a habit of engaging everyone I meet in a conversation centering on Israel’s strategic goals in Gaza. Frankly, as is with the case involving a discussion of Donald Trump, tempers can flare easily – and trying to engage in a relatively dispassionate conversation about either Gaza or Trump isn’t easy.
But, a recent survey conducted by three different Canadian Jewish groups shows how diverse opinions are among Canadian Jews are when it comes to Israel. The survey was conducted by marketing firm Leger and was sponsored by the New Israel Fund, JSpaceCanada and Canadian Friends of Peace Now. Here are some of the findings from that survey: • While 84% of Canada’s Jews say they are “very” or “somewhat” emotionally attached to Israel and 94% percent support the existence of Israel as a Jewish state, just 51% of Canadian Jews consider themselves Zionists. • The poll also found that 34% of Canadian Jews believe the continued building of Jewish settlements in the occupied West Bank hurts Israel’s security, with only 27% saying they believe it helps Israel’s security. The remainder of those polled either said it made no difference or they didn’t know. • Most Canadian Jews still believe that the ideal outcome to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is a two-state solution – a Jewish state of Israel alongside an Arab state of Palestine, with 61% support amongst Canadian Jews with an opinion on the subject. 55% of Canadian Jews agree that Canadian politicians should increase pressure on Israeli and Palestinian leaders to engage in a meaningful peace process. • Canadian Jews are also more likely to indicate their intention to vote for the federal Conservative party if the election were to be held tomorrow, with 55% indicating support for the Conservatives, and 26% for the Liberals. These trends are similar to those in the general population, but the decline in Liberal support and increase in Conservative support is more pronounced among Jews.
I would suggest that the majority of Canadian Jews don’t pay much attention to what Jewish federations do – and here it’s important to note that determining who is Jewish is not easy – as I showed repeatedly ever since the results of the 2020 census came out. (For instance, I was able to establish that only 6700 Winnipeggers identified as Jewish both in terms of their religion and ethnicity in that census.) The groups that conducted this most recent survey of Canadian Jews’ attitudes would likely not be considered mainstream Jewish organizations in the sense that they do not follow along with what our Jewish federations and CIJA would suggest is the nominal position of most Canadian Jews on Israel. All three are highly critical of Israeli government policies and all three strive to promote peaceful co-existence among Israeli Jews and Palestinians.
Yet, by referring to the work done by Prof. Mordecai documenting Israeli war crimes in Gaza, the assessment that Moshe Ayalon offered that what Israel has been doing lately in Gaza amounts to “ethnic cleansing,” and the recent survey of Canadian Jews’ attitudes towards Israel, I wanted to show how thoughtful Jews – whether they’re in Israel or in Canada, can hold highly divergent opinions from what you are likely to read in most Jewish media (including The Jewish Post). If nothing else, if I can get some readers to consider different viewpoints when it comes to thinking about Israel, I will have accomplished something.
A little‑remembered Gilded Age millionaire helped make milk safe for American kids through his ‘retail giving’
The 1844 edition of the widely used schoolbook written by William H. McGuffey, “Newly Revised Eclectic Fourth Reader,” includes a dialogue about the difference between “true and false philanthropy”:
Mr. Fantom: I despise a narrow field. O for the reign of universal benevolence! I want to make all mankind good and happy.
Mr. Goodman: Dear me! Sure, that must be a wholesale sort of a job: had you not better try your hand at a town or neighborhood first?
As the discussion continues, the lesson becomes clear. Mr. Fantom’s approach is too ambitious to accomplish much, while Mr. Goodman’s, if narrower in scope, was likely to be more useful in practice.
Nathan Straus made his mark in philanthropy after a successful career running the Macy’s department store. Library of Congress Image by
Many of Straus’ contemporary philanthropists were setting lofty goals for their giving. In oil magnate John D. Rockefeller’s case, it was promoting “the welfare of humanity throughout the world.” For steel tycoon Andrew Carnegie, it was “to promote the advancement and diffusion of knowledge and understanding.”
Straus pursued more mundane objectives that included championing milk pasteurization. Although his efforts are not as well known today as those of his more ambitious – and wealthier – counterparts, they accomplished a lot and showed that what might be called “retail giving” can have far-reaching effects.
Successful immigration story
The Straus family came to the United States from Germany in the 1850s during the first big wave of Jewish immigration. Lazarus Straus, Nathan’s father, followed a familiar path for Jewish immigrants at the time, beginning as a peddler and eventually establishing his own store in the small town of Talbotton, Georgia, where the members of his family were the only Jews.
He prospered, became a respected citizen and saw that his children received good educations, including in their religion.
Then the Civil War upended the family’s life, first by reviving antisemitic prejudices and then, eventually, by destroying the family’s business.
Starting anew in New York City, Lazarus and his older sons, Isidor and Nathan, began to sell imported china, glassware and other crockery to retailers in the Northeast and South. One was Rowland H. Macy, who had founded an eponymous store that was on the cutting edge of what Fisher calls a “retailing revolution.”
Macy’s innovations included stocking large inventories of many kinds of merchandise, competitive pricing, extensive advertising and providing a variety of services like public restrooms and a cafeteria to make shoppers’ experiences more pleasurable.
Aided by the rapid urban and economic growth of the late 19th century, the model flourished. Department stores displaced smaller, specialty shops. Other retail powerhouses, such as Bloomingdale’s and Lord & Taylor, soon competed with Macy’s.
The Straus family sold their wares at Macy’s. After Rowland H. Macy died, the Straus family became partners with its new owners. By 1896, the Strauses owned the store outright. And Macy’s was expanding: It bought another department store in Brooklyn and created a flagship building on Manhattan’s Herald Square, which Macy’s still occupies.
The landmark Macy’s department store in New York’s Herald Square opened in 1902 while Nathan and Isidor Straus ran the retailer. Library of Congress Image by
His philanthropy journey begins
While Isidor Straus oversaw the store’s internal operations, Nathan focused on the company’s external activities, such as purchasing, marketing and dealing with government and business leaders.
A third brother, Oscar, pursued a career as a politician and diplomat, eventually becoming secretary of commerce and labor under President Theodore Roosevelt and the first Jewish member of a presidential cabinet. Perhaps inevitably, this led to a series of public appointments for Nathan Straus.
However, as they became wealthier, Nathan and his wife, Lina, increasingly devoted their attention to a series of philanthropic projects.
In 1893, the U.S. entered a four-year economic depression, its worst until the 1930s. As unemployment in New York City rose, Nathan Straus used his merchandising skills to address the needs of the jobless and poor.
He created a number of “depots” near tenements and boarding houses that sold coal, food and fuel at discount prices. Fisher, Straus’ biographer, rightly calls these early examples of what is now known as “social entrepreneurship”: the application of business principles to solving social problems.
Making milk less deadly
As these efforts were getting away, Straus also launched what would become his major preoccupation: promoting pasteurized milk.
In New York City in the early 1890s, Fisher writes, “the annual mortality rate among children under five was about 15 percent,” or 18,000 infants and toddlers per year. A main cause was consuming raw milk, which, unless certified by inspectors, was likely not only to contain a variety of pathogens, such as tuberculosis bacteria, but spoil easily going from farm to table.
Although scientists had long known that heating could make milk safer, doctors and public health officials worried that sterilizing milk might also destroy its valuable nutrients.
Straus, who had lost one of his own children to what he believed was a milk-borne infection, built on his projects for the unemployed by working with New York social service agencies to develop pasteurization plants and infant-milk stations near low-income neighborhoods.
They sold sterilized and refrigerated milk at below-wholesale prices, or donated it to those who could not afford to pay. Businesslike efficiency kept costs low, as did donations. Multilingual ads publicized the product’s availability, doctors and nurses advised parents on child-rearing, and careful recordkeeping aimed at assessing the program’s health benefits.
Straus and his wife devoted much of their time and money to this work. In addition to establishing 297 milk stations in 36 cities, they also spoke and wrote widely about the merits of pasteurization.
By 1908, their efforts paid off when the U.S. Public Health Service endorsed pasteurization and state and local governments began requiring that milk sold in their jurisdictions be pasteurized. Raw milk remained available in many states, and debates over its safety continue to this day.
As a result of this and other Progressive Era measures, New York City’s health commissioner estimated that infant deaths dropped by two-thirds
during the first two decades of the 20th century, with similar declines elsewhere in the country.
The coastal Israeli city of Netanya was named after philanthropist Nathan Straus. Jack Guez/AFP via Getty Images Image by
Other causes
While most of Nathan Straus’ efforts occurred in the U.S., he used his trips to Europe for Macy’s to promote pasteurization on the continent.
During a 1904 visit, he toured the Mediterranean and stopped in Palestine, then part of the Ottoman Empire. Impressed by the early Jewish settlements and holy sites he saw, Straus became an ardent advocate for creating a Jewish homeland in the Middle East, an unusual position for a Jewish businessman of that era, according to Fisher.
On a subsequent trip, a broken leg kept Straus from returning to New York on the maiden voyage of the Titanic; his brother Isidor and sister-in-law Ida were not so fortunate.
In the U.S., Nathan Straus led Zionist organizations, while in Palestine, his chief contributions involved supporting a variety of health care and economic development activities, including Hadassah, the women’s health and community development organization founded by Henrietta Szold.
Nathan Straus’ achievements as a philanthropist are not widely known today because he did not create a grantmaking foundation that outlasted him, as Rockefeller and Carnegie did.
Instead, by the time of his death in 1931, Straus had donated much of his fortune. Fisher writes that Straus used to invoke an old Hebrew proverb: “Money given in health is gold. Money given in sickness is silver. Money given after death is lead.”
He also didn’t donate heavily to the burgeoning network of communal organizations set up to assist the growing population of Jewish immigrants, as did the financiers Jacob Schiff and Felix Warburg, who were also affluent Jewish immigrants from Germany.
As Fisher notes, this pattern of philanthropy resembles that of Straus’ friend – and pallbearer – Julius Rosenwald, the longtime head of Sears, Roebuck and Co. Both supported Jewish causes as well as major initiatives aimed at helping others: In Rosenwald’s case, it was schools for African American children in the South, while for Straus, it was milk pasteurization in New York City and beyond.
During and after World War I, they worked together to assist Jewish refugees in Europe. Fisher might have added that neither Straus nor Rosenwald sought much recognition for their work.
His thorough account should help give Straus the credit he deserves for his philanthropy. It should also show that donors do not have to aspire to “make all mankind good and happy” to make an important difference.
In many ways, Nathan Straus was an old-fashioned do-gooder, responding to the needs he saw with innovative solutions. As a result, he wound up accomplishing a lot of good.
“Emma,” a young Jewish woman who we met in 2019, didn’t belong to a synagogue. She didn’t have a Jewish partner. She didn’t observe Jewish rituals regularly. On most surveys about religion, she would not seem very engaged with Judaism.
But as Emma talked about what she did in her free time, a very different picture began to emerge. She visited Jewish websites and enjoyed listening to Jewish music. She read books about Jewish topics and had recently attended a retreat for young Jewish adults to learn Torah while also doing yoga.
She was highly invested in learning about Judaism, but she explored her identity without joining traditional institutions.
Most major surveys about religion ask whether someone belongs to a congregation, how often they attend services, whether they pray regularly and whether belief is important in their lives. Those measures help identify broad shifts, like the growing percentage of Americans who are religiously unaffiliated: the “nones.”
But many Americans’ religious lives, like Emma’s, are not disappearing; they are moving away from membership of traditional institutions. To understand what religion looks like in 21st-century America, researchers may need to ask different questions.
Learning through art
As scholars of Judaismand education, we have been exploring how people learn about religion beyond traditional places like synagogues, Jewish schools and summer camps. Between 2019 and early 2023, we spoke with hundreds of people and explored different leisure time activities to discover what people learn about Judaism and Jewishness through cultural arts.
We interviewed dozens of audience members at Jewish-themed shows on Broadway, such as “Leopoldstadt”and “Parade.” We attended Jewish concerts and asked attendees what they learned. We explored how social media communities offer spaces to talk about different Jewish topics, like what fans learned about ultra-Orthodox Judaism from watching the television show “Shtisel.”
‘Shtisel,’ an Israeli series about an ultra-Orthodox family in Jerusalem, ran for three seasons.
Our research revealed that there is a vibrant ecosystem of people learning about religion in their leisure time. Through the arts, both Jews and non-Jews encounter Jewish history, Jewish religious practices and representations of Jewish communities.
Screen and stage
Most people we spoke with told us that they felt meaningful connections to Judaism during activities that would rarely appear on a standard religion survey.
“Joan,” an unmarried woman in her 50s from Connecticut, told us that she was deeply invested in Judaism, but felt that synagogues and Jewish community centers were not welcoming to single people without families. Instead of joining a Jewish institution, she watched Jewish-themed TV shows and movies on Netflix, and joined social media communities to chat with other fans.
“Luis,” who lived in Boston but was born in Argentina, was a Sephardic Jew, a group that traces their ancestry and traditions to Jewish communities who once lived in Spain and Portugal. His wife was Ashkenazi, meaning her ancestors came from Central and Eastern Europe. She considered herself secular, and so the couple joined the Worker’s Circle, a nonreligious Ashkenazi institution rather than a synagogue.
Yet Luis loved deepening his knowledge of Sephardic culture, and he often attended concerts of music in Ladino, a Sephardic language related to Spanish, with other Sephardic immigrants.
American singer Sarah Aroeste writes and performs in Ladino.
For Joan and Luis, these activities were not peripheral to their Jewish lives. Rather, they were central avenues for learning and community. We interviewed hundreds of Jews who told us that cultural experiences were opportunities to reflect on Jewish practices, explore questions of belonging, connect with family histories and find friends with common interests.
New questions
Some aspects of these patterns were distinctive to Judaism. Historically, many Jews have understood Judaism to be a cultural world, and not only a theological tradition. Learning about cultural dimensions of Judaism has long been part of Jewish education.
The broader phenomenon of informal learning, though, extended far beyond a single tradition. Across America, increasing numbers of people learn about religion through media, cultural productions and digital networks. Christians may study biblical themes through podcasts, online discussion groups or religious influencers. Muslims may participate in online learning communities that connect believers across the world.
The challenge for religion researchers, then, is not simply to determine whether engagement with religion is rising or falling. Rather, it is to develop more nuanced ways of understanding how people explore religious themes and practices, beyond traditional institutions. Only then can we more fully understand how contemporary Americans actually live their religious lives.
