"West Bank" Is a Colonial Imposition
Names matter. Several state legislatures have passed resolutions affirming the use of "Judea and Samaria" and rejecting "West Bank," a modern political term.The Rise of the UnJews
After crushing the Bar Kokhba Jewish revolt in the year 135, the Roman Emperor Hadrian renamed Judea and Samaria as the province Syria Palaestina, invoking the Philistines, enemies of Israel, to erase Jewish identification with the land. The name stuck. My Jewish grandfather, born in Palestine, was considered Palestinian. Before 1948, "Palestinian" referred to the Jewish community as well as Arab people. After the Palestine Liberation Organization was established in 1964, "Palestinian" became associated with Arab nationalism.
Rabbi Pinchas Allouche of Scottsdale told the Arizona Legislature: "Language matters, because when you erase names, you erase history; when you erase history, you erase truth; when you erase truth, you delegitimize people; and when you delegitimize people, peace becomes impossible."
In 2024, Toronto adopted indigenous names for new public spaces. Ireland continues to restore traditional Irish names via a 2024 government initiative, the Placenames Committee. Rhodesia became Zimbabwe in 1980, and Swaziland Eswatini in 2018. So, too, should Judea and Samaria be restored. These original names reconnect the land to the history of an indigenous people, including the battle David and Goliath fought in Judea. Erasing Jewish names from Jewish history is a tactic as old as Rome. It didn't work then, and doesn't work now.
The long-run future of the diaspora may increasingly replicate the European experience. Before World War II, Europe was home to over half of world Jewry and many of its most creative, dynamic communities; today, it barely contains 10 percent of Jews. At the end of World War II in 1945, there were 3.8 million Jews left on the continent. More than 80 years later, just 1.4 million reside there.Andrew Fox: Haaretz: information warfare, not journalism
As is the case in the United States, anti-Zionism and anti-Semitism in Europe draw heavily from the educated classes. One study found that 60 percent of German anti-Semitic messages came from well-educated people. As far back as 2018, only a narrow majority (54 percent) of Europeans thought Israel had the right to exist, according to a CNN poll. Public support for Israel in Western Europe has declined rapidly in the years since, with only around one-fifth holding a favorable opinion of the country recently.
Given the wealth and size of the U.S. Jewish community, notably in New York, California, and various urban areas, it may take decades for American Jews to follow the same trajectory as Europe. But as secular, younger Jews rapidly assimilate, French sociologist Georges Friedmann’s half-century-old prophecy of a disappearing diaspora could prove correct. The main exceptions may be the socially self-segregated orthodox. Already, almost two-thirds of Jewish children in New York City are Orthodox.
It’s increasingly likely that, even in New York and Los Angeles--the two main centers of diaspora life--Jewish identity will become essentially Israeli. As early as 2035, according to a report by the U.K.-based Institute for Jewish Policy Research, Israel will become the home to a majority of all Jews, for the first time since early antiquity.
The diminishment of the diaspora—and with it, the extraordinary journey of a dispersed people—could be the lasting legacy of today’s unJews. (h/t KEN J BROWNSHER)
There’s a running joke among Gaza War veterans that people who’ve never been to Gaza read Haaretz to learn what’s going on there; those who’ve been there read Haaretz when they’re in the mood for some escapist fiction. For those of us who’ve fought in Gaza, the pattern of Haaretz war stories has become familiar: the author typically takes a kernel of truth, removes essential details and highlights unimportant ones, painting a fuzzy, incoherent picture whose only coherent thread is that the IDF is barbaric. Haaretz’s latest hit about IDF veterans’ ‘Moral Injuries’ is a case in point.
The very term is controversial. In fact, the article itself admits that the term doesn’t exist in the American Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Illness, nor is it recognized by the Israeli Defense Ministry. But the author made sure to bury that inconvenient fact deep in the article and, just to play it safe, he turns that weakness into a strength by quoting an unnamed source who insinuates that the IDF does not recognize the term because that would effectively involve a public admission that the IDF is not nearly as moral as advertised. That’s right. Haaretz published a piece on a mental illness that may or may not exist and used the very dubiousness of that illness’ existence as proof that the IDF is wicked.
The reason the author insists on using that dubious term is that it sounds so bad. The term ‘moral injury’ conjures an image of a guilt-ridden soldier who is crippled by the knowledge of the atrocities he has committed. The article’s opening story reinforces that image by describing a man who is so horrified by his own wickedness he can’t even bear to look himself in the mirror and then goes on to describe an ex-sniper who wet his bed because of nightmares. It carefully avoids delving into the psychology behind that sense of guilt, leaving the reader to assume that those veterans feel evil because they are evil.
However, the reality about guilt is much more complicated, especially in the context of trauma. The broader context is that a sense of guilt is a natural reaction to trauma. It is perfectly natural to rehash terrible events that have happened to us and to think how we could have handled them differently, both to learn and to regain a sense of control – a feeling that “I’ll be ready for it next time.” And once people start focusing on what they could have or should have done, it is easy to feel guilty for not having chosen that supposedly correct course of action in real time. That is one reason sexual abuse survivors often feel guilty about being abused. I felt guilty when a platoon mate of mine got injured in Gaza, even though I knew I had done everything I could for him. A Nova survivor told me he felt a similar sense of guilt about his surviving while so many of his friends did not. In other words, a sense of guilt does not necessarily imply moral guilt. But casual readers don’t make that distinction. And the author weaponizes that.



















