Op-ed from The Crimson: The Illuminations of Birthright

My article about Taglit-Birthright Israel was published in The Harvard Crimson yesterday! Text below or online at The Crimson.

The Illuminations of Birthright

By SANDRA Y.L. KORN

This summer, I left North America for one of the first times in my life. On an El-Al jet surrounded by dozens of other Jewish college-aged students, I flew across multiple continents before landing in the Ben-Gurion Airport near Tel Aviv to embark on my “birthright”: an all-expenses-paid ten-day trip across Israel.

Unlike Crimson editorial writer Samuel Doniger, my compunctions about travelling to Israel were not about the safety of public buses or the loneliness of Israel’s desert terrain. Rather, I feared what I would learn on the trip: Taglit-Birthright Israel, the organization that currently sends 40,000 students and young adults per year on ten-day tours of the Holy Land, is notorious for its role in influencing the political ideology of American Jews. (After all, Birthright gets much of its funding from the right-wing Israeli government and right-wing American Jews like casino magnate and Romney supporter Sheldon Adelson.)

At first, I was surprised to find that my Birthright trip was less explicitly political than I had feared. Our tour guide, a young Israeli who is also a reserve officer in the Israeli Defense Forces, gave us a thorough and objective history of the Israeli border and otherwise seemed to focus on describing Israel’s tourist attractions, ruggedly beautiful landscape, and Jewish culture.

However, I soon realized that a trip around Israel aimed at fostering Jewish identity cannot avoid politics. From its name—“Birthright” implies that all Jews have the right to the land of Israel, while ignoring the Palestinian refugees who have been prevented from returning home for decades—to its itinerary—which includes ventures into the disputed Golan Heights, where participants gleefully take pictures of the ruined shells of “abandoned” Syrian homes—Birthright advances the political agenda of the Israeli and American right. The fact that it does so in an insidious way makes its messaging all the more dangerous.

As all Birthright trips do, my group travelled to the Holocaust history museum, the Yad Vashem. Most of the museum is centered around a long, dark tunnel with exhibits on each side detailing the horrors inflicted on Jews in Europe. The “light at the end of the tunnel,” the symbolic conclusion of the Jewish saga, is a balcony overlooking Jerusalem. The tour guide at the museum asked us, “Why did God let the Holocaust happen?” One American on my trip dutifully responded, “If it weren’t for the Holocaust, there might never have been a state of Israel.” The existence of a political state hardly seems to justify the extermination of over 10 million innocent people, but this was the message conveyed by the architecture of the Yad Vashem and seemed to be the narrative our tour guides desired us to understand.

At the end of our trip, our tour guide brought us to Mount Herzl cemetery, Israel’s national cemetery. At the area of the cemetery reserved for civilian victims of acts of terror, our guide told us why it was important for us as Jews to support Israel: because “Arabs are different from us,” and teach their children to hate in school. As members of my group supplied other examples of “Arabs” killing innocents—“Syria.” “Iran.” “Al-Qaeda, 9/11.”—we reflected on the necessity of defending Israel from the Palestinians, who, after all, have plenty of Arab brothers and sisters to support them, right?

Throughout the rest of our tour, we spoke to young IDF soldiers who dismissed human rights abuses against Palestinians as a forgivable consequence of a Jewish state. We spoke to older Israelis who informed us that Israel was the only place in the world safe for Jews, invoking the racism that seems to run unquestioned through Jewish Israeli public discourse—one told us, “there could be another Holocaust in America any time. Jesse Jackson, or another one of those black people…” Our trip leader supplemented these interactions with a quip about Israel’s thriving biotechnology industry: “Israel doesn’t have many natural resources, but we do have the Jewish mind.” We posed for a picture atop an old tank, shouting, “Israeli power!” And meanwhile, throughout the entire tour, we were encouraged to return to Israel, to make aliyah.

Zionists look to Birthright Israel as a way to inspire Jewish pride among largely assimilated, ethnically Jewish college students. Even liberal Zionist Peter Beinart, when he came to speak at Harvard last semester, critiqued Birthright only for failing to expose participants to a Palestinian perspective (it’s true: we didn’t speak to a single non-Jew during a full ten days in the Middle East).

But Birthright’s idea of engaging with Israel means supporting an illegal and oppressive military occupation, claiming citizenship to a state that deports African immigrants, glorifying “the Jewish mind,” and decrying all Arabs collectively for their hateful terrorist tactics. Simply introducing a Palestinian voice could not begin to correct for the fact that Birthright is firmly entrenched in right-wing rhetoric, from racism to militarism. If liberal American supporters of Israel truly hope for their children to engage with global Jewish politics in a meaningful way, they should stop sending them on a trip to Israel called “Birthright” and start teaching critical thinking about the role of Jews in promoting justice around the world.

Sandra Y. L. Korn, a Crimson editorial executive, is a joint history of science and studies of women, gender, and sexuality concentrator in Eliot House.

A Postcard from Palestine

Earlier this summer, I traveled around Israel and Palestine, first with Taglit-Birthright and then by myself. I wrote this Postcard from Bethlehem, which was published in the Crimson this week:

An American In Palestine 

BETHLEHEM, the West Bank—Near one of the largest Palestinian refugee camps in the West Bank, a shop sells postcards with photographs of the separation wall. In one of the pictures, the English phrase “TO EXIST IS TO RESIST” is painted on the Wall.

Picture taken along the separation wall in Bethlehem,
near a Palestinian refugee camp

Just a kilometer away, in downtown Bethlehem, we watch tourists pour out of buses. They are Christian pilgrims, here to visit religious sites like the Milk Grotto, where a drop of milk that fell from the Virgin Mary’s breast turned an entire cave white. We walk into a small store in the downtown market, or souk. The store’s name in English is simply “Nativity Shop”: it is located near the Nativity Church, on the land where Jesus was born. The church is now a major tourist site, at least for those who don’t mind going through a checkpoint to get here.

The owner of the shop is a friend of a friend, so we linger to talk to him about his business, the city, and the weather. He asks me my religion. Cautioned not to tell Palestinians that I am Jewish, I say, “I’m just American.” But here in the Holy Land, religion is of utmost importance; the shop owner presses me for an answer. Eventually, I admit that I am Jewish.

His face breaks into a grin. Handing me a cup of Nescafé, he informs me, “Jewish people are always so shy! If I didn’t want Jews in my shop, I would not sell these!”—he dangles some Magen David charms in front of my face—“or these!”—he shows me some small metal Menorahs.

Later that day, we run into the shop owner again in a restaurant. He pulls me over to the table where he is sitting with two older men in suits, maybe having a business conversation. “This girl,” he asks them, pointing at me, “What do you think she is? Italian? Something else?” “Italian,” nods one. “I don’t know,” says the other.

Leaning back, the store owner shares a smile with me and laughs, pleased. “No! She is American.”

Op-ed from the Crimson: What Anti-Semitism?

Op-ed written by Sandra, published in the Harvard Crimson on February 1:

What Anti-Semitism?

Last semester, McGill history professor Gil Troy visited Harvard’s campus to give a talk entitled “Why I Am a Zionist.” In an article composed the day after the event, Troy wrote favorably about how he was received at Harvard. He contrasted it with about the “common discourse on campus today” about Israel, speaking of “Jewish students harassed and Israel defamed.”

I am not surprised that Troy found a respectful audience for his talk at Harvard. However, I am embarrassed and disturbed that he anticipated otherwise. Of course, there are many students at Harvard who are pro-Palestinian. Of these, many oppose Israel’s continued occupation of the Gaza Strip, desire a two-state solution that allows Palestinian refugees the right of return, and advocate for a boycott of goods produced in the occupied territories or of all Israeli goods. However, Troy’s expectation relies on the assumption (which he has put forth in other articles) that “pro-Palestinian” means “anti-Semitic.” During my time in both Jewish and pro-Palestinian communities at Harvard, I have found this to be both untrue and counterproductive to meaningful discussion.

On a Friday evening in December, before heading to dinner at Harvard Hillel, I strove to protect a flickering candle from the wind rushing through Harvard Square. Along with dozens of other students, I was standing in vigil for Mustafa Tamimi, a peaceful Palestinian protestor who died after being shot in the head by a tear-gas canister fired by an Israeli soldier. As I covered my candle, I looked around at the faces of 50 people—Muslims, Jews, and others. Some were mourning, others were frightened, others were angry. Not a single one was hateful.

Indeed, in both Jewish spaces and pro-Palestinian spaces at Harvard, I have never witnessed anti-Semitism or defamation of Israel. Unfortunately, I am afraid that many tend to use the term “anti-Semitic” to describe anyone who criticizes the policies of the state of Israel.

Like many, I draw my own opinions about Israel and Palestine from my views on oppression and militarism and my desire for universal economic and social equality. As someone involved in peaceful protest on my own campus, I believe there is great power in nonviolent resistance. Of course, not all on campus, or even all at my Shabbat dinner table, agree with me. However, Harvard students, whether sympathetic with Benjamin Netanyahu’s government or with the global movement calling for a boycott of Israeli goods, all want to end unnecessary bloodshed and suffering. And we all know that hatred is antithetical to constructive discussions and peace.

In 2006, Yale University began the Yale Initiative for the Interdisciplinary Study of Anti-Semitism. The initiative sponsored and directed research on historic and contemporary anti-Semitism until it was ended last June. Many noted that it had become too political and disproportionately focused on Muslim anti-Semitism. An op-ed in the Yale Daily News noted that a conference held by the group, featuring a keynote speech entitled “The Central Role of Palestinian Antisemitism in Creating the Palestinian Identity,” had countered hatred of one kind (anti-Semitism) with hatred of another kind (Islamophobia).

The Initiative has since been replaced by the Yale Program for the Study of Antisemitism, which strives to produce more scholarly research. But the damage was done—Yale’s Muslim community expressed alienation and hurt after the controversial conference. Indeed, when all Palestinians, or all who criticize Israel, are labeled “anti-Semitic,” productive discussions about peace can devolve into hateful accusations.

Of course, anti-Semitism is real and present. In fact, two swastikas appeared on the side of a building near Eliot House last semester. But twelve hours later, they were painted over and all but forgotten by Harvard’s Jewish community: The graffiti seemed to me and other students a bizarre and surprising anomaly, not an indication of widespread, hidden hatred. Additionally, some advocates for Palestinian rights are undoubtedly anti-Semitic, just as some advocates for Jewish rights in Israel are anti-Arab or Islamophobic. But these people are far from a norm among pro-Palestinian advocates.

Accusing those who disagree with you of bigotry precludes constructive academic discussions. In fact, charging Palestinian students or pro-Palestinian advocates with anti-Semitism changes the tone of discussion from political to religious. This often provokes the type of resentment that prolongs conflict instead of resolving it. Unfortunately, comments such as Troy’s and initiatives like Yale’s are more likely to spark anger than remorse among students accused of anti-Semitism.

I would like to assure Professor Troy, and anyone else who might be concerned, that arguments for economic sanctions on Israel do not stem from deep-seated anti-Semitism. I know from personal experience that this is true on Harvard’s campus, and I am assured by others that this is generally true across the globe.

Many current Harvard students will grow up to be the politicians, activists, and donors who shape American policy on Israel. If American academics hope to contribute to productive discussion about Israel and Palestine on campuses, they must first cooperate and not issue unfounded accusations of prejudice.