Archive | December 2021

Feminism Changes the Study of Jewish Thought

Feminism Changes the Study of Jewish Thought


TAMAR ROSS


Students at Stern College, 1964 / YESHIVA UNIVERSITY ARCHIVES

Will belief in the divinity of Torah ever be reconciled with the role of women in contemporary religious life?

Contemporary feminists may differ regarding the degree to which women’s distinctiveness and unique ways of knowing are inbuilt and essential or socially constructed, and whether it ought to supplement prevailing male conceptions of truth in some androgynous model, or (as some radical feminists suggest) override them completely. Nevertheless, all agree that the feminine perspective has something valuable to contribute, challenging prevailing male conceptions of truth as the irreducible, self-evident, and exclusive prism of reality.

The transformation that feminist consciousness has imposed upon academic scholarship (particularly in the humanities and social sciences) involves both critical and constructive aspects. On the critical level, the first step was to remove women’s invisibility as both producers and subjects of knowledge. Beyond promoting the professional advancement of female scholars and including the works of women in course syllabi, this meant documenting whatever evidence could be found regarding women’s relevance to the field in question.

At first, this attempt was conducted by studying women’s lives, experiences, and cultural productivity according to the categories of traditional male scholarship. In other words, women’s achievements were assessed according to male standards and in light of typically male pursuits. Eventually, however, it was understood that relying on these concepts and theoretical frameworks simply perpetuates women’s invisibility. In assuming that the prevailing division of gender roles is correct and natural, and basing research on questions that were originally formulated only by men, scholars often missed much of what was distinctive about women’s experiences.

Eventually, feminists began to understand that correcting the invisibility of women was not simply a matter of “add women and stir.” Making room for women’s standpoint and ways of knowing affects the qualitative nature of this knowledge as well. Viewing research from a feminist perspective influences the way that scholars define their subject matter, what questions should be asked, and how the information that is elicited should be interpreted and applied. This also bears methodological implications—such as attaching greater prominence to qualitative interviews and personal narratives rather than faceless statistics. 

Yet whether purporting to rely on the objectivity of historical “facts” or on the somewhat murkier waters of philosophical reflection, applying strictly universal standards to a field that is partial from the outset in its commitment to Jewish interests is problematic. Introducing feminist sensibilities as an added prism simply intensifies the futility of any pretensions to neutrality. This is not to say that the conversation between feminism, philosophy, and Judaism is an impossible project, or of dubious value. Instead of being conceived as a discipline engaged in disinterested pursuit of knowledge for its own sake, a sizeable chunk of Jewish thought is now driven by women’s urge to resolve concrete issues that they face with regard to Judaism’s central beliefs and practices.

The seeds of this more practical type of confrontation between Judaism, feminism, and philosophy were first strewn in the 1960s, when several liberally inclined Jewish women, such as Betty Friedan and Gloria Steinem, joined what has come to be known as the second wave of American feminism. Initially, these women (well-educated but not necessarily in Jewish terms), didn’t link their activity to their religious or ethnic identities. But this started changing a decade later, when some such women began to connect their sense of discrimination and lack of equal opportunity to their standing in Jewish tradition—questioning the glorification of their roles as wives and mothers, their subordinate status in Jewish law, their lack of direct representation in Judaism’s canonic texts, their exclusion from religious leadership and active participation in the public domain, and so on.

Because the division of society by gender is such a fundamental component in the construction of Jewish tradition, the initial project of Jewish feminists was to reveal the extent to which sexism and the normative status of maleness underlie core assumptions of Jewish theology and practice and are embedded in the very grammar of the Hebrew language. The Torah addresses the male as the representative Jew. In later texts, the role and value of women are as a rule defined and limited even further by male interests and considerations. Women are not the intended audience and their experiences do not figure as a central topic worthy of discussion. In sum, traditional Jewish sources are the record of males looking out upon women as Other, reflecting male conceptualizations of women rather than flowing naturally from women’s own self-understanding.

Surveying responses to this critique is complicated because of the great denominational diversity characterizing Judaism in modern times. Outside the mainstream, there have been marginal attempts to dabble in neopagan, pre-biblical Goddess theology, or post-monotheistic spiritualism. Most Jewish feminists, however, have chosen not to break completely with their normative monotheistic heritage. Differences between Reform, Reconstructionist, Conservative, modern Orthodox and ultra-Orthodox (or Haredi) Judaism in accommodating the feminist critique are generally linked to ideological divisions regarding the divinity of the Torah, the immutability of Halacha (Jewish law), and the relative importance of each to religious life.

Haredi Jews who equate acceptance of traditional norms with submission to God’s eternal will generally regard feminism as an intrusive movement foreign to Judaism that creates disturbing tension, if not downright conflict, with hallowed beliefs and practices. To the extent that this type of opposition has provoked a philosophical response, it typically consists of arguments appealing to essentialist views of gender or to other culturally and politically benign features of patriarchy that might justify male hegemony.

Among the unconvinced, some more liberally inclined feminists have chosen to rely upon selective appropriation of egalitarian motifs that already exist in Jewish tradition, dismissing the rest as merely the negative influence of passing extraneous sociological forces. This has led to scholarly efforts at what I term “historical restorativism”—engaging in revisionist history in order to unearth evidence of more egalitarian practices of Judaism before its ideal standards became “sullied.” After the fashion of several noted Christian feminists, this approach has also encouraged developing new, more sophisticated exegetical methods in order to mine classical Jewish texts for precedents of women’s inclusion or hidden hints of protest against their subordination, and privileging whatever interpretation gives the text “the benefit of the doubt.” Such efforts, which strive to afford contemporary women full equality in matters of ritual practice, communal authority, and opportunity for religious leadership in accordance with what is normally extended to men, align with what is generally regarded as second-stage feminism. In other words, they aim to provide women with an equal share in the male pie.

A third, and more radical stage of Jewish feminist thought, contends that theology—rather than sociology—lies at the heart of the problem. Feminists adopting this stance are persuaded by internal connections that critics claim to have revealed between the monotheistic conception of God and male ways of thinking. To the extent that monotheism places men at the center, they argue, the world it constructs to make sense of human experience is also a world imbued with a male perspective. The entire shape of the religion, its basic paradigms, and perceptions of reality are especially suited to the male psyche, reflecting the hopes, needs, and fears of men living in a patriarchal framework.

Picturing an infinite God in exclusively male terms, according to this line of thought, is simply another form of idolatry. Moreover, binding worship to male-oriented conceptions of transcendence and to hierarchies of authority, dominion, and control leads to marginalizing female forms of spirituality which typically favor more spontaneous demonstrations of connectedness, intimacy, mercy, and love. Perhaps the most damning allegation raised in this context is the pernicious influence that the monotheistic notion of God exerts upon relations between men and women on the anthropological level. Third-stage feminists point out that religion does not merely create a certain social pattern; it also represents and reifies it, and thereby grants it legitimacy.

Students of Jewish thought persuaded by this level of critique, but still reluctant to part with their cultural identity as Jews, seek bolder forms of revisionism that can infuse the patriarchal formulae of tradition with “softer” feminine models. This includes scholarly efforts which might support the introduction of female imagery to the language of prayer, new woman-friendly rituals, and even new historical narratives designed to supplement and shape spaces empty of women in the Jewish collective memory. Despite its ultimately androcentric character, the mystic tradition of medieval Kabbalah and its later Hasidic offshoots, which feature a theosophy of embodied spirituality, rich feminine imagery of the Shekinah, and notions of reciprocal influences between the human and the divine, serve as an important resource for the revisionist project, as verified by the disproportionately high percentage of women scholars now engaged in this area of Jewish research.

A related issue raised by third-stage feminism is the extent to which Judaism’s appropriation of Halacha as the central medium for religious expression is the product of male ways of thinking. Judith Plaskow, an influential feminist theologian associated with the Reform movement, acknowledges the fact that law constitutes an important part of Jewish teaching, but questions its suitability considering the feminine preference for more fluid forms of spirituality. She has also voiced doubt regarding Halachic potential for remedying women’s status in tradition because of its systemic view of woman as Other. As against this skepticism, Rachel Adler, professor emerita of Jewish thought and gender studies at Hebrew Union College (also associated with the Reform movement), places a greater premium on Halacha as a necessary tool for preserving Jewish identity, but seeks proactive measures for breaking out of its authoritarian mode as a closed system of “obsolete and unjust rules.”

Precisely because modern Orthodoxy professes an ideological commitment to the Torah as a divine document and to the entire body of oral law as normative and binding, alongside engagement with secular culture as a positive value, the intensity of the challenge that this variety of Judaism faces in the conflict between Jewish demands for continuity and feminist conceptions of justice brings the stakes involved into greatest relief. Especially in its Israeli manifestations, I believe that modern Orthodox feminism (colored as it is by its own distinctive timing and sociopolitical setting), also currently serves as a hotbed for some of the most sophisticated and constructive contributions to Jewish thought to date. In true feminist fashion, I won’t attempt to defend these contentions from some detached “view from nowhere.” Rather I will speak from my own personal experience as a modern Orthodox woman living in the State of Israel who has been engaged for nearly a lifetime in the study and practice of Jewish philosophy.

Growing up in this environment, I certainly experienced occasion for frustration at being excluded from key male opportunities for learning and spiritual activity. My very choice to enter the field of Jewish thought was largely determined by the fact that I am a woman. Arriving in Israel as a teenage immigrant, I hoped to enrich my Jewish background by taking courses in that area in which the Hebrew University most prided itself: Jewish studies. Had I been a male, my religious interest in advancing my Jewish literacy would most likely have led me to a yeshiva or to the university’s Talmud department. But because these avenues were not open to me at the time, I turned instead to what was then a less exclusively male discipline—Jewish philosophy.

My interest in Jewish philosophy was not strictly academic in what was then the accepted understanding of the term. Beyond a wish to master this body of thought for its own sake, I was also on a spiritual quest, seeking to reinforce identification with a legacy of Orthodox Judaism to which I was committed by birth and upbringing. In order to make it my own, I felt the need to somehow translate its tenets and render them intelligible in the more universal terms of a broader philosophical and scientific milieu in which I was equally immersed. However, it never occurred to me at this stage to relate any personal gripes regarding my restricted Halachic status as a woman to my philosophical pursuits.

The entire shape of the religion, its basic paradigms and perceptions of reality, are especially suited to the male psyche, reflecting the hopes, needs, and fears of men living in a patriarchal framework.

Even as a novice, I was aware of potential clashes between internal and external views of religious doctrine. Nevertheless, my basic trust in both led to a conviction that the two could somehow be reconciled in a manner that would be mutually enriching. Initially, I was also very much affected by the approach of historical positivism that characterized Jewish scholarly research at the time I began my studies. The pride of this approach, which could be categorized as Jewish intellectual history, was its pretension to freedom from personal biases or ideological interests. In a broader sense, however, this historicism was related to more general notions of truth as grounded in ultimate, indubitable, self-certifying propositions. Truth-seeking consisted, therefore, in the attempt to capture existing, predefined verities in the physical or metaphysical world by reaching down to the firm and stable foundations on which they rested. The corroboration of truth-claims, be they scientific, historical, philosophical, or theological, was, therefore, to be conducted on some neutral territory “out there” and to be judged only in terms of their correspondence to these foundations.

As a matter of fact, reliance upon foundationalism (that is, the notion that the “edifice” of all human knowledge must inevitably emerge from the staunchly solid and universal foundation of reason) was and still is the general approach assumed by most of my Orthodox colleagues engaged in academia (particularly in the natural sciences), to the extent that they are exposed and troubled by rival truth-claims. Such proponents of this approach, generally known as Torah u-madda, typically understand both bodies of thought as vying in the same ballpark in the attempt to capture objective reality. Thus, they conclude, each discipline’s truth should be tested and measured by the same standards. In the event of clashes, one rendition must be correct and the other not.

In the tradition of Jewish thought, I found much support for the Torah u-madda position. Nevertheless, my exposure to the broader vistas of the social sciences and the humanities (history, archeology, comparative religion, literary criticism, and the like) eventually raised a host of qualitatively different questions that undermined a foundationalist view of religious truth-claims. After partaking of the forbidden fruit of this more comprehensive Tree of Knowledge, reliance upon a combination of ad hoc localized solutions to individual problems (anachronisms, inaccuracies, and contradictions in the biblical view of science and history; implausible descriptions of miraculous events; time- and culture-bound limitations in its theological and moral perceptions) seemed woefully inadequate to the task of responding to an ever-growing list of difficulties surrounding traditional accounts of the literary genesis of the Torah. The motley collection of patches applied in piecemeal fashion to various holes riddling the religious narrative began to lose their persuasive power when such flaws could be resolved so much more elegantly by one simple naturalistic explanation that left God and metaphysics out of the picture, a solution I was committed to rejecting.

Without consciously abandoning the Torah u-madda approach, I found myself increasingly drawn to precedents in Jewish thought that diverged from assumptions of direct correspondence between hard facts and the authoritative truth claims of religion. A chief source of inspiration was the thought of Rabbi A.I. Kook. As opposed to most scholars who focused on the nationalistic and political aspects of his thought, I was initially drawn to other features of his legacy: firstly, the fact that much of his writing took the form of a personal diary. Later I was also struck by his rejection of binary thinking as evidenced in his qualified attitude towards monotheism and its emphasis upon divine transcendence, his celebration of instinct, immersion in this-worldly activity and natural morality as indispensable conduits of spirituality, his ability to recognize the role of the historical process in the evolution of religious ideas, and his understanding that the main importance of religious truth statements was not their degree of correspondence with some external reality, but rather their influence on moral flourishing.

Years later I came to appreciate that most of these features are, from a gender perspective, characteristic of what has come to be associated with feminine ways of thinking. In retrospect their attraction for me may then have already been prompted by an intuitive sense that such predilections would somehow lead the way to a more comprehensive resolution of the incongruence between claims based on religious authority and those based on reason. But the direct impetus for working out such a resolution explicitly was a byproduct of the dramatic developments in the situation of Orthodox Jewish women that commenced a couple of decades later.

When Blu Greenberg, the acknowledged mother of modern Orthodox feminism, came out in 1981 with her groundbreaking book, On Women and Judaism, I found that many of the issues she raised overlapped with my own. However, her take tended to be phrased in political and sociological rather than theological terms. To the extent that she and other members of JOFA (the Jewish Orthodox Feminist Alliance, founded on her initiative) allowed themselves to proceed at all beyond acknowledging the predominantly male perspective of the Torah, they typically limited themselves to gingerly attempts at mitigating perceived injustices or anachronisms of the system on a practical level, from within the current boundaries of Halacha. In other words, this brand of feminism reached the second stage and went no further. Its unstated assumption was that the Torah may indeed have been phrased in terms of a patriarchal and pagan society, but it is not given to flesh and blood to change at will a tradition that is based upon a divinely inspired document.

Living in Israel, where Judaism is the majority culture and there is no clear division between church and state, limiting responses to conflict between religion and feminist concerns to select normative issues while ignoring their broader theological implications is far more difficult. Perhaps for this reason, the point that I came to appreciate was that—over and above considerations of justice or lack of a female perspective in biblical accounts of God, history, and the world at large, it is precisely in its unstated assumption about the nature of the Torah that the real problem of Orthodox feminism lies. In other words, the most troubling aspect of the feminist critique for modern Orthodoxy, as I saw it, was the more profound challenge that it posed to the central understanding upon which the authority of Jewish tradition has been based for millennia—that is, the very notion of a divinely revealed text.

If the Torah is from God, it should be above any human conditionality. But if the Torah’s understandings of self, world, and God so clearly reflect a patriarchal social order, how are we to view the source of such a Torah? Since the perspective of the Torah is so limited, can we really credit it with being divine? Is it really describing God in words that God has revealed to us, or are these words perhaps merely the projection of our own wishes or social systems onto the cosmos in a religious language that is socially shaped and culture-bound, and therefore not binding upon us? The problem intensifies when we realize that all rabbinic commentary and Halachic legislation is based upon the legal and narrative sections of the Torah, which were always regarded by tradition as stemming directly from God, and therefore above human conditioning.

Admittedly, such questions were raised in limited form even in Talmudic times and surely apply to many other areas where Jews nowadays feel the time- and culture-bound nature of the Torah and later traditional texts. But beyond pointing to any particular scientific moral, or theological difficulty in the contents of the Torah, the uniqueness of the feminist critique lies in the fact that it highlights an all-pervasive male bias so implicit and subtle that the innocent reader usually remains unaware of its existence. This ultimately drives us to ask: Can any verbal message claiming revelatory status really be divine? Because language itself is shaped by the cultural context in which it is formulated, and is of necessity bound to a particular standpoint, is a divine and eternally valid message at all possible? 

With these questions, the clash between Orthodoxy and feminism is transformed from a dispute over the facticity of God’s revelation at Sinai to a debate over issues of general bias and the ubiquitous traces of cultural relativism. And it is here that the insufficiency of traditional panaceas comes into boldest relief. Allegorical interpretations of problematic passages in the Torah will not solve anything in this case. Nor will the suggestion that difficulties were deliberately planted into the text for didactic reasons. The male bias cannot be limited to specific terms or passages; it’s all over the text.

It thus appeared obvious to me that if the feminist critique in its Jewish context threatens to relativize and conditionalize the entire corpus of traditional Halacha, Orthodox Jews stand in desperate need of a contemporary theology that will accommodate the following two requisites. Firstly, the ability to acknowledge with a maximum of intellectual integrity the degree to which the Torah and Halacha at large are formulated in a time- and culture-bound societal mold. Secondly, to assert that this same Torah is nevertheless the eternal voice of God speaking to us, with every word of that voice equally holy and indispensable, and even to find theological meaning in the fact that our sacred and revered texts have been bound to the implicit patriarchal premises which feminist thinkers have been uncovering.

Relying on elements in the thought of R. Kook and rabbinic tradition at large, I began developing the idea that it is still possible to maintain belief in the divinity of the Torah despite its androcentric bias and other marks of human imprint by breaking down the strict dichotomy between divine speech and natural historic process. My grounding for this approach, which I termed “cumulativism,” was based on three assumptions:

First, if the Torah is to bear a message for all generations, its revelation must be an ongoing process; a dynamic unfolding that reveals its ultimate significance only through time.

Second, God’s message is not expressed through the reverberation of vocal chords, but rather through rabbinic interpretation of the texts (which may or may not be accompanied by evolutionary developments in human understanding) and through the mouthpiece of history. History, and particularly what happens to the Jewish people—the ideas and forms of life they accept as well as the process of determining those they reject—is essentially another mode of ongoing revelation, a surrogate prophecy.

Third, that although successive rabbinic hearings of God’s Torah sometimes appear to contradict His original message, that message is never replaced. On a formal level, the original Sinaitic revelation always remains the foundational cultural-linguistic filter through which these new deviations are heard and understood. The sanctified formulations of the canonic texts continue to serve as the absolute, rock bottom parameters of Jewish belief and practice, even though subsequent revelations may totally transform their original import, even turning them on their head.

Applying the notion of cumulative revelation to the problem at hand, I suggested that religious believers might regard the rise of feminism in our day, like other phenomena in the past, as a heaven-sent vehicle for the transmission of God’s word. Such an understanding does not involve devaluing or supplanting the previous norms of patriarchy. But to the extent that the feminist critique takes hold and informs the lives of the Halachically committed, traditionalists may understand women’s quest for equality as an updated expression of the divine will, indicating that we have outgrown earlier and more primitive forms of spirituality and are ready for a new, more sublime stage.

Not unexpectedly, my attempt to resolve the theological challenge of feminism by means of this dynamic understanding of revelation has received mixed reviews. It was welcomed enthusiastically by many members of the modern Orthodox community and others of a more liberal bent, who felt that such an approach offered them a way to reconcile deeply felt feminist sensibilities with their religious loyalties. Others regarded the move toward a more open-ended and naturalistic concept of revelation as giving up the traditionalist game from the outset, since the absolute and context-free character of the Torah has come to be so commonly accepted as the very essence of Orthodox Jewish theology. On the opposite end of the stick, dyed-in-the-wool feminists resisted considering patriarchy as even a temporary manifestation of divine providence or part of a gradual unfolding of divine intent.

Viewing the stakes of the argument from these variegated perspectives led me to a second, more radical theological stance. Drawing upon my previous forays into nonfoundationalist resources in Jewish and general philosophical thought, the urge to formulate a philosophically viable response induced me to appeal to a genre of postmodern theology that downplays the propositional import of religious doctrine in the life of the believer. According to this view, the primary interest of religious truth statements is not to discuss facts or establish history. Their main function operates on an entirely different plane: reflecting and fortifying a form of life and worldview to which we are inextricably bound by a combination of personal conviction, passion, and practical considerations.

While my view of revelation is deliberately fashioned in a manner that can coexist with universal naturalistic understandings, it certainly is not mandated by them. I personally prefer the notion of revelation through history and a nonpropositional view of religious truths for a variety of reasons. But my interest in introducing these ideas here is not to promote them specifically. Rather, it is to suggest that the contribution of feminism to Jewish thought cannot suffice with addressing parochial issues of Jewish continuity and practice. It also demands a confrontation with the inevitability of situated knowledge and diversity of opinion that feminism generates, and a response to this typically postmodern quandary in philosophically rigorous terms that bear universal provenance.


A version of this talk was delivered at the M.G. Levin Annual Public Lecture in Jewish Thought at Bar-Ilan University on Nov. 21, 2021.


Tamar Ross is a professor emeritus of Jewish philosophy at Bar-Ilan University.


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Excavations reveal ancient synagogue in Turkish town near tourist hotspot

Excavations reveal ancient synagogue in Turkish town near tourist hotspot

DAVID KLEIN/ JTA


The synagogue was found recently in the town of Side, not far from the tourist hotspot of Antalya, in southern Turkey.
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The floor of the synagogue in Side, Turkey, features a plaque with Greek and Hebrew inscriptions. /  (photo credit: TWITTER)

The remains of an ancient synagogue dating back as far as the 7th century have been discovered in a resort town on Turkey’s Mediterranean coast.

The synagogue was found recently in the town of Side, not far from the tourist hotspot of Antalya, in southern Turkey.

Among the remains was a plaque with a menorah motif and an inscription in Hebrew and Greek stating that it was donated by a father in honor of a son who passed away at a young age. The plaque ends with the Hebrew word “Shalom.”

The town was home to Jews for centuries, but until this discovery, there was little evidence of Jewish life there beyond a few records from the late Byzantine period.

Since 2014, Turkish authorities and the town’s own citizens have worked together to try to preserve some of its history.

Remote view of Galata Tower in Istanbul, Turkey (credit: VIA WIKIMEDIA COMMONS)

That year was “a turning point for Side in terms of research and conservation,” said Feriştah Alanyali, an archeologist from Anadolu University who is leading the excavations, according to the Turkish Jewish news outlet Avlaremoz. “Many works have been done that could not be done until now.”

Though today Side is a popular destination for Russian and European tourists, in ancient times it was an important Mediterranean port city, adopting Greek culture after its conquest by Alexander the Great in 333 B.C.E. It maintained a Greek identity until it was abandoned in the 12th century after the conquest of Anatolia by the Seljuk Turks.

The city was ultimately repopulated at the end of the 19th century by Turkish Muslim immigrants from Crete and saw a building boom during the 20th century, thanks to the rise of tourism in the Antalya region.

It was that uncontrolled building that covered up much of the ruins of ancient Side, including the synagogue, which was found beneath an old house.

Alanyali hopes that when more structures in Side are removed over the next 4 to 5 years that its ancient ruins, including the synagogue, will be intertwined with the town’s infrastructure like they are in other ancient cities such as Rome.


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Kiedy antysyjonistyczna grupa udowadnia, że jej własna propaganda jest kłamstwem

Zrzut z ekranu z wideo wyprodukowanego przez South Hebron Hills Watch.

Kiedy antysyjonistyczna grupa dowodzi, że jej propaganda jest kłamstwem

Sheri Oz
Tłumaczenie: Małgorzata Koraszewska


South Hebron Hills Watch na swojej stronie Facebooka informuje, że jest “grupą amerykańskich wolontariuszy, która ujawnia wydarzenia na południowych wzgórzach Hebronu… by informować Amerykanów o codziennych skutkach Okupacji”.

Region południowych wzgórz Hebronu Judei i Samarii (nazwanych przez Jordanię Zachodnim Brzegiem) pojawiał się w wiadomościach przez ostatnich kilka miesięcy z powodu nasilenia przemocy na tych terenach. Jako uzasadnienie twierdzenia, że Izrael popełnia zbrodnie wobec Arabów w tym regionie, ta grupa zamieściła na swojej stronie wideo, które jednak przy bliższym oglądzie pokazuje odwrotność tego, co próbują dowieść.

 Na Facebooku członkowie piszą:

Izrael nasilił niszczenie (blokowanie) polnych dróg używanych przez palestyńskich wieśniaków, by dotrzeć do swoich pól w celu nawodnienia i zbiorów. Umyślne nękanie, które niszczy życie i powoduje straty ekonomiczne. Wypychanie Palestyńczyków z ich ziemi.

Wideo daje wskazówkę, dlaczego te drogi muszą być „zniszczone”” (zablokowane). Choć zniszczenie jest znacznie ostrzejszym słowem niż zablokowanie, prawdopodobnie woleliby dla celów propagandowych móc napisać tylko o zniszczeniu, ale wideo pokazuje, że droga jest tylko zablokowana. Jest to zbyt oczywiste, by dało się twierdzić, że jest inaczej, ale jest możliwe, że słowo „zniszczone” pozostanie w umysłach widzów.

Oskarżają Izrael o umyślne nękanie – z pewnością ludzie na całym świecie, którzy chcą sobie dobudować dodatkowy pokój lub garaż do swoich domów bez pozwolenia, budują płot wokół swojego podwórka, który przypadkiem obejmuje także 100 metrów przyległego parku publicznego, itd. wszyscy uważają, że władze nękają ich, kiedy nalegają, by powstrzymali się od takich działań lub zburzyli to, co już zbudowali. I sądzą, ż władze nękają ich umyślnie. Z pewnością nie jest wygodnie, kiedy trzeba się podporządkować lokalnemu planowaniu i prawom budowlanym.

Czy Izrael wypycha Palestyńczyków z ich ziemi? Nie, a ta odpowiedź wymaga pewnych wyjaśnień. Południowe Wzgórza Hebronu znajdują się na Obszarze C, który ma być pod pełną izraelską administracją. Kontrakt, który to ustalił został podpisany przez byłego przywódcę OWP, Jasera Arafata w imieniu palestyńskich Arabów żyjących w Judei i Samarii. Ten kontrakt znany jest pod nazwą Porozumień z Oslo.

Obszar C jest kłopotem zarówno dla Izraela, jak dla Autonomii Palestyńskiej, ponieważ wewnątrz tego obszaru są wysepki Obszaru B, który jest pod wspólną administracją Izraela i AP. Te wysepki Obszaru B są wsiami, dla których AP dostarcza miejskich i socjalnych usług, takich jak edukacja i opieka zdrowotna. Natomiast AP i Izrael dzielą odpowiedzialność za sprawy bezpieczeństwa.

Obszar A jest pod wyłącznym panowaniem AP.

Poza granicami tych wsi jest Obszar C, gdzie każda budowla, którą chcą tam stworzyć Arabowie, wymaga pozwolenia izraelskich władz. Istotnie, trudno je uzyskać. Jednak pouczająca mapa zagospodarowania ziemi pokazuje, że arabskie budowy na Obszarze C pokrywają 10 procent dostępnej ziemi, podczas gdy żydowskie budynki pokrywają tylko 7 procent. Na Obszarach A i B, gdzie AP jest odpowiedzialna za wydawanie zezwoleń, 63 procent ziemi jest dostępna do użytku. Dlatego argument, że budowanie na Obszarze C jest jedynym sposobem dostarczenia miejsca dla rosnącej arabskiej populacji po prostu jest nieprawdą.  

W rzeczywistości, zarówno sama wieś, jak polna droga pokazana na tym wideo, są nielegalne. Każdy, kto próbuje budować drogę bez pozwolenia w jakimkolwiek innym kraju, będzie ją miał zablokowaną, a najbardziej prawdopodobne jest, że rzeczywiście zostanie zniszczona.

Wieś Kawawis pokazana na tym wideo, jest nielegalna, została założona przez dzikich osadników. Potwierdza to ich twierdzenie (zresztą nieprawdziwe), że cysterny z wodą nie mogą do niej dojechać. Gdyby była to legalna miejscowość, byłaby tam kompletna infrastruktura dostarczająca wodę, elektryczność, komunikację i transport. Ponadto w artykule jest potępienie zburzenia domu w Kawawis w 2018 roku z wyraźną informacją, że rodzina nigdy nie złożyła podania o pozwolenie na budowę, a godne zaufania źródło, które chce zachować anonimowość, twierdzi, że cała wieś jest nielegalną zabudową. Być może South Hebron Hills Watch rozważy zrobienie wideo z ujawnieniem, dlaczego izraelska administracja nie likwiduje nielegalnych wsi na Obszarze C, nawet kiedy izraelski Sąd Najwyższy wydał orzeczenia, że są one nielegalne i mają zostać zlikwidowane.

Co zabawne, zdjęcia w tym wideo są sprzeczne z jego tekstem. Mamy gołosłowne twierdzenie, że blokada drogi (czerwone X) nie dopuszcza farmerów z wsi Kawawis (niebieskie kółko) do ich pól (obrysowanych na zielono). Jednak X pojawia się w miejscu, gdzie polna droga zbiega się z szosą 317 i wyraźnie ani nie blokuje dostępu do wsi, ani do pól.

Scena na filmie pokazuje to właśnie – zablokowanie drogi tam, gdzie spotyka się ona z szosą. Niemniej w tekście mamy dalsze podkreślenia tego, jak blokuje to dostęp wieśniaków do ich pól, zmuszając Arabów do porzucenia pól, żeby Izrael mógł budować więcej osiedli na ich ziemi.

Kolejne zdjęcia mają pokazać, jak farmerzy nie mogą dostać się ze wsi do pól, ale zdjęcie jest zrobione w miejscu, w którym polna droga styka się z szosą – tj. gdzie jest czerwone X na  zrzucie z ekranu powyżej. W rzeczywistości polna droga wiedzie od gaju oliwnego bez przeszkód aż do wsi widocznej na horyzoncie. Dlatego twierdzenie, że utrzymanie się wieśniaków z pracy na roli “jest zakłócone tym jednym posunięciem” jest jawnie fałszywe.  

Tekst towarzyszący wideo twierdzi, że Palestyńczycy nie mogą posiadać ciężkich maszyn i z tego powodu “budowanie dróg jest długie i mozolne”. Ponieważ region jest pod pełną władzą administracyjną Izraela, tylko administracja Izraela może autoryzować budowanie nowych dróg, a potem budować je. W każdym razie, mimo blokady na skrzyżowaniu tej drogi z szosą 317, cysterny z wodą i ambulanse mogą dojechać do wsi innymi drogami.

Końcowy tekst na wideo brzmi: “Jeden dzień okupacji. Dwie drogi zablokowane. Życie setek ludzi zakłócone”. Widzom nie pokazuje się drugiej drogi. Może jest to jeden ze szlaków kurierskich wytyczonych między południowymi wzgórzami Hebronu a obszarem  Arad, jak informuje „The Jewish Press”:

Nielegalny szlak o długości około pięciu kilometrów przebiega w całości na ziemi państwowej i pozwala na stosunkowo wygodny przejazd samochodem osobowym. Koszt budowy ocenia się na ponad 850 tysięcy dolarów.

Unia Europejska dostarcza tych funduszy, a budowa tej drogi zadaje kłam temu, że palestyńscy Arabowie nie mogą budować (nielegalnych) dróg w inny sposób niż przez “długi i mozolny” proces. Zakłócone życie setek ludzi, jak powiada wideo, można było z pewnością całkiem dobrze wesprzeć, gdyby te 850 tysięcy dolarów skierowano na poprawę warunków życia w legalnych wsiach zamiast cynicznie używać Arabów jako pionki w aktywizmie, którego celem jest delegitymizacja Izraela.

Konsumenci materiałów propagandowych, takich jak to wideo, powinni uważnie im się przyglądać i sprawdzać, czy tekst argumentów zgadza się z tym, co pokazują obrazy. Jest możliwe, że – jak w tym wypadku – materiały propagandowe dowodzą czegoś odwrotnego od tego, co organizatorzy chcieliby ludziom wmówić.  


Sheri Oz – Urodzona w Kanadzie w 1951 roku, w wieku 26 lat wyemigrowała do Izraela, gdzie studiowała rolnictwo, po studiach wróciła do Kanady, studiowała psychologię. W 1986 wróciła do Izraela zajmując się psychoterapią rodzin. Autorka książki Overcoming Childhood Sexual Trauma: A Guide to Breaking Through the Wall of Fear for Practitioners and Survivors


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‘Christians in Israel mark Christmas in safety, unlike the rest of Mideast’

‘Christians in Israel mark Christmas in safety, unlike the rest of Mideast’

JNS and ILH Staff


“Many Christian families living in Iraq and Syria are in poverty, and cannot afford proper celebrations, while in the Jewish democratic State of Israel, people enjoy beautiful co-existence, safety, prosperity, and freedom,” says Capt. (res.) Shadi Khalloul, spokesman of the Christian Israel Defense Forces Officers Forum.
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“A man dressed as Santa Claus rides a camel near the Jaffa Gate in the Old City of Jerusalem, Israel, Dec. 23, 2021”

Marking Christmas, Israeli Christians are ‘thriving’ while Middle Eastern brethren face persecution

While Christians are facing persecution and shrinking numbers throughout the Middle East, in Israel Christians are enjoying a different reality with growing numbers and high quality of life.

The number of Christians in Israel grew by 1.4% in 2020 reaching 182,000 people with 84% saying they are satisfied with life in Israel, according to the Central Bureau of Statistics.

Christian Israelis make up about 1.9% of the state’s population, most of them speaking Arabic. Christians make up 7% of Israeli Arabs and 76.7% of Christians in the country are Arab.

The number of Christians in Israel grew by 1.4% in 2020 reaching 182,000 people with 84% saying they are satisfied with life in Israel, according to the Central Bureau of Statistics.

Christian Israelis make up about 1.9% of the state’s population, most of them speaking Arabic. Christians make up 7% of Israeli Arabs and 76.7% of Christians in the country are Arab.

Most Maronites live in Lebanon; their numbers decreased from around 29% of the population in 1932 to around 22% in 2008.

There are Maronite Christian communities in Israel with former members of the South Lebanon Army militia among them. The militia was allied with Israel during its invasion of Southern Lebanon. About 2,000 of the 10,000 Maronite Christians in Israel derive former militia fighters who fled to Israel when its forces withdrew from Southern Lebanon.

According to a journal article by Israeli Syria and Lebanon expert Eyal Zisser, Maronite ties to the Jewish community in Israel began as early as the 1930s and continued through independence in 1948. The alliance against the Muslim Arab world was built on the belief that Israel was to serve as the national home for Jews and Lebanon for Maronites.

“While Middle Eastern Christians are [for the most part] oppressed, in Israel, they are thriving,” Khalloul said.

Israel recently announced that it would allow 500 Christian community members from the Gaza Strip to enter Israel and the West Bank to celebrate the holidays.

Gaza’s community maintains around 1,000 Christians, and in the West Bank, a dwindling number remains as many have emigrated. According to the CIA Facebook, Christians and other small non-Muslim and non-Jewish religions make up 8 % of the West Bank population.

According to a 2018 NBC News report, the Christian population of Bethlehem had dropped from 80% in 1950 to around 12%.

However, Christian leaders sought to blame Israel for the decline in Christians in the disputed territories.

In an article in last weekend’s Sunday Times, written jointly by the Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby, and the Archbishop of Jerusalem, Hosam Naoum, warned about a crisis of Christian survival “in the Holy Land.” The church leaders blamed Christian’s shrinking numbers in the disputed territories to the “growth of settler communities” and “travel restrictions brought about by the West Bank separation wall.”

Alastair Kirk, of Christians United For Israel UK, disputed this portrayal and accused the church leaders of demonizing Israel.

“While there are serious issues to address in the context of Christians in the Holy Land, Christians living in Israel proper enjoy the same freedoms as other Israelis,” Kirk said. “There are real concerns for those Christians living in the West Bank who, like so many, are caught in a conflict, but rather than examine the challenges faced by Christians in the West Bank in a manner that may bring the British public closer to understanding them, the archbishops ignore key facts, effectively demonizing Israel in the process.

“Across the globe in 2021, Christians have been killed simply because of their faith. Millions of Christians have been uprooted. Many have been imprisoned,” Kirk continued. “Churches have been attacked or forced underground. It is somewhat disturbing that the archbishops have thought it timely to publicly use the occasion of Christmas, in which Bethlehem plays such an important role, to raise contentious issues that some will use to further vilify Israel.”

Bishara Shlayan, a Christian Israeli Arab from Nazareth, told JNS that Israel defends Christians and provides security.

The Palestinian Authority is very weak and cannot provide adequate security to Christians living in the West Bank, he said.

“The difference between Christians in Israel and the Arab world is obvious. We are citizens and have equal political rights, while the situation in Arab countries is not good,” he said.

Shlayan, who has headed a party that failed to pass the electoral threshold in past elections, points out that “at least we have the right to run.”


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Sarah Silverman Expresses Support for Zionism, Existence of a ‘Jewish State’ on Podcast Episode

Sarah Silverman Expresses Support for Zionism, Existence of a ‘Jewish State’ on Podcast Episode

Shiryn Ghermezian


Sarah Silverman during the Dec. 16 episode of her show “The Sarah Silverman Podcast.” Photo: YouTube screenshot.

Sarah Silverman talked on Friday’s episode of her podcast about the existence of a “Jewish state,” the misplaced criticism that Israelis and American Jews face, and her support for a two-state solution in the Middle East.

“Zionism by definition means that you believe Israel has the right to exist; that there should be a Jewish state. And hey, there are many Muslim states, many Muslim countries. We here in America, we are basically a Christian country. So there can’t be one, just one, Jewish state?” the host of “The Sarah Silverman Podcast” told her listeners.

The comedian and actress, whose sister Susie lives in Jerusalem, began by saying that she believes the term “pro-Israel” has become “very muddied” and “co-opted by the far-right.” She thinks there is a “spectrum of pro-Israel and a spectrum of Zionism that makes it very unfair to blanket define everyone under the definition of Zionism.”

She then added, “I have very close brilliant, warm, loving, liberal family [members] that consider themselves liberal Zionists. And then there’s the Democratic Socialists of America, which I am a member [of], and they consider themselves to be anti-Zionists, which makes me sad and feel nervous. In their mind, it equals anti-racism.”

On Monday, former Miss Iraq Sarah Idan applauded Silverman for explaining Zionism “so beautifully and courageously, knowing people from her party might disagree.”

Idan said in an Instagram post, “When I was in Israel I spent almost every day with the Silvermans and they made me feel at home. They’re passionate loving activists who not only care for Israel but human rights and equality. I wish to see more progressives follow in their footsteps and not fall for the propaganda and fake narratives media benefits from. Being a Zionist doesn’t mean you don’t care for Palestinians, it means you care for co-existence between two people but with extremists that always seem to be forgotten.”

During her podcast episode, Silverman, whose location on Twitter is marked as “Palestine,” also reiterated her longstanding support for a two-state solution between Israel and the Palestinians while accusing Israel of “occupation.” She told listeners, “In my far away view, I say King Solomon that s–t. Cut her in half, half Palestine and half Israel. Side by side. … Occupation is wrong, any way you slice it. I believe there should be a state of Palestine as much as I believe there should be an Israel. … The occupation must end.”

Silverman was born Jewish but now identifies as an atheist. She explained on her podcast that when she posts anything Jewish-related on social media, she is flooded with comments from people asking “What about Palestine?” She then questioned why Jews in America and Israelis are being faced with such harsh backlash for actions of the Israeli government.

“Let me put it this way, the Chinese government has one million Uyghurs Muslims in concentration camps in China and thank God people don’t hate Chinese people in China, or Chinese-Americans here, or wherever they are, for what their psycho government is doing. That would be insanely racist and very sh—y. But boy when it comes to Israel … Jews that have nothing to do with Israel or Israelis that have nothing to do with what their government is doing [are being criticized].”

Addressing calls to sanction Israel, she said, “let’s do that maybe with China too. My sister Susie says, ‘Why demonize everyone in Israel?’ She said so much of this is not about the occupation, it’s about our existence. And I can see her point of view, very, very well.”

Listen to Sarah Silverman’s full podcast episode below.


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