Earlier this month, Google banned three violent anti-Hamas games from its Play Store. The games—which could be played on any Android smartphone—were uploaded in the last week of July, when Israel’s Operation Protective Edge was at its peak.

Though the games weren’t quite as successful as Flappy Bird, they took off like wildfire. One was a spoof of Whac-A-Mole called ‘Whack the Hamas.’ A description of the game ‘Gaza Assault: Code Red’ challenged potential users: “Terrorist cells are launching rockets into your country, do you have what it takes to protect your citizens?” The rules of the app were simple: the player would take control of an IDF drone equipped with powerful weapons, and aim to hit targets in Gaza. It was loosely based on real IDF tactics. ‘Bomb Gaza,’ which was posted on July 29, simply required the player to “drop bombs and avoid killing civilians.” Before Google removed the app on August 4 it was downloaded over 1,000 times.

Many Google users expressed outrage in the feedback section of the ‘Bomb Gaza’ page, reports The Telegraph. “To think that you can turn genocide, murder and ethnic cleansing into a game is absolutely disgusting,” said one. “My beloved brothers and sisters are dying in Gaza and some stupid ignoramus decides to make a game like this,” said another.

Speaking to The Telegraph, Chris Doyle, the director of The Council for Arab-British Understanding, said these games normalize violence. “We’ve seen huge amounts of hate language and bigotry over the past few weeks. It’s the last sort of things that’s needed… These games glorify the horror and violence of the bombing of Gaza.”

“You can have video games that deal with war, but when you base it in a reality of a conflict that’s going on right now it’s extremely problematic,” he said.

Google removed the games from the Play store in the first week of August. A company spokesperson said “we remove apps from Google Play that violate our policies,” but would not comment on the Gaza games.

The Israeli developers of these apps have a different perspective altogether. One of the developers of ‘Bomb Gaza,’ Roman Shapiro, told The Daily Beast that “the game was a joke made in 2 hours.”

“It is based on avoiding killing civilians,” he said. “As usual, Jews are demonized by everyone. Not surprised. Fuck them all.”

The developer of ‘Whack the Hamas,’ Avishay Segal, told The Times of Israel that he saw the removal of his game as “unfair.”

“Our app doesn’t advocate for any type of violence against groups of people based on anything, be it on their race or ethnic origin, religion, disability, gender, age, veteran status, or sexual orientation/gender identity,” he explained. “We developed the app only for fun and relaxation, for the people who are being killed every day by a terrorist group.”

(Image: Screenshot by author)

Related: An Open Letter to Selena Gomez, From Two 12-Year-Old Fans in Southern Israel

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Dear Selena,

I’m writing to you on behalf of two 12-year-old girls living in Southern Israel who were upset by something you posted to Instagram a few weeks ago—a post which expressed sympathy for the people of Gaza, but also provided a space for your followers to condemn and delegitimize the State of Israel in the comments.

I met Noa and Yarden* in Southern Israel while I was doing some reporting for a few stories about religion and conflict in that region. This may be a bold statement, but they’re your biggest fans—seriously, your biggest fans. “Selena Gomez,” cried Yarden. “I love her! I love her music!”

And then you let them down. You hurt them. You prayed for Gaza, but not Israel, taking sides in a conflict that is not your own. By doing that, you isolated some fans.

Selena, Noa and Yarden have something to say. They love you. They idolize you. That’s why they want to say this—because they’re worried that their idol hates them simply because they’re Israeli. I wanted to relay their message to you. The remainder of this letter is based on my conversation with them.

“Everything you say about the Arab-Israeli conflict is wrong. It’s so much more complicated than anyone not living here can imagine,” Yarden said. “Even the people in central and northern Israel don’t understand it they way we do. So, Selena, why did you say what you did?”

“To you, Rihanna, and anyone else who has anything ill to say about us and our people,” Noa added, “come visit us, spend a day in our life and see what it’s like.”

Israelis, like all Middle Easterners, are known for their generosity and hospitality. “We’d be more than happy to host you for however long,” Yarden said. “You can even stay with me or Noa—we have safe rooms, bomb shelters, in our houses. We have to, given the number of rockets that are fired at us daily.”

Noa and Yarden live in Israel on Kibbutz Yad Mordechai, a small village of 500 people two kilometers from the Gaza border. They’re the last Israeli residents before the border crossing between Israel and Gaza. On any given day, they are pummeled with rockets. On a good day they have two warning sirens—in Hebrew they’re called tzeva adom. On a bad day they can have as many as fifteen.

“From the time the sirens signaling the rockets sound, we have 15 seconds—just 15 seconds—to run for safety,” Noa explained, with a twinge of lingering fear in her voice. “Usually, the Iron Dome intercepts the rockets before they can harm us. When that happens, everything shakes from the booms—my house shakes, our whole neighborhood shakes. And in turn, we all shake. It’s terrifying. There is nowhere to hide.”

“We live in our shelters now,” she continued. “They still shake, a lot, but when shrapnel falls from the intercepted rockets, at least it can’t hit us. We hardly ever leave our shelters.”

At that moment, I must interject, the girls and I heard a bone-rattling boom—a boom that you feel in your core. I jumped, but the two girls just looked at me and said, “don’t be afraid. That is us bombing Gaza—it’s not here. Nothing will hurt us from that boom.” A few moments later, a plume of light grey smoke appeared through the trees in the distance. “Gaza is close to here,” Noa said. “Very close,” Yarden added.

“We”—meaning the Israeli Defense Force—”don’t bomb to hurt,” they felt the need to tell me. “We bomb to defend. In Gaza the terrorists bomb because they want to terrorize us—and they do!”

“I remember on the first day of the war, oh, what a trauma we experienced,” Yarden recalled. “Noa and I were on the beach very close to here. We were enjoying ourselves, swimming, you know, because it was hot. And then, all of a sudden, we hear a siren. As daughters of the south, we knew what that meant. We had 15 seconds to find shelter. But we were in an open space with nowhere to go. We saw the rockets approaching overhead. It was terrifying! With nowhere to hide, we did the next best thing: we dropped on our stomachs and covered our heads, lest shrapnel from an intercepted rocket fall on us.”

8 seconds.

7 seconds.

6 seconds.

5 seconds.

“And then two loud booms. Everything shook. The Iron Dome had saved us. We were safe. But with rockets being targeted at our homes, could we ever be truly safe?”

“Between me and my classmates who live in villages like Zikim, Carmia, and Sderot, all over Southern Israel,” Noa said, “rockets are aimed at us all the time. Without end.”

“But we live in the South of Israel,” Yarden added. “We’re used to this way of life already. We were born into this. It’s our life.”

Noa’s family has lived in Yad Mordechai since the kibbutz was founded in 1936. They came here to escape anti-Semitism in Europe. They built the kibbutz up with their own hands. They defended it from Egyptian invaders in 1948—there were only fifty kibbutzniks with twenty outdated guns between them, facing hundreds of trained Egyptian soldiers. But the kibbutzniks, Noa’s family, persevered. They then lived in peace with their Arab neighbors in Gaza. Sure, there were tensions and flare-ups, but for the most part they lived in peace. And then just after Noa and Yarden were born, the rockets started.

“At this point, I’m not scared of the sirens anymore,” Noa stated plainly.”I’m scared of the booms, but not even so much. I’m really more scared of the terrorists who are shooting them.”

“Why can’t we just live in peace?” asked Yarden. “We hope the kids in Gaza are good and safe,” she said. “We don’t wish this kind of trauma on anyone. I’m sad that everyone dies. We can’t live like this. Let’s just be neighbors in peace.”

“That’s all we want here,” Noa said. “Peace.”

I’m paraphrasing now, but the girls wanted you to know that you’re still one of their heroes. Look at everything you’ve overcome in your life! But you hurt them. They just want you to understand before you isolate them, before you dismiss them and their families as bad people.

So, will you take them up on their offer and visit? Will you see their life and cheer them up?

On behalf of your fans in Israel,

Rachel

*The girls’ names have been changed.

Related: In Lieu of Tel Aviv Concert, Neil Young Donates to Budding Israeli & Palestinian Musicians

(Image: Randy Miramontez / Shutterstock.com)

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New England Patriots owner Robert Kraft has penned a heartfelt letter of condolence to the family of Max Steinberg, the American-Israeli soldier killed in Gaza on July 20. Steinberg, who was from Los Angeles, made aliyah after visiting Israel on a Birthright trip in 2012, the New York Times reports. He was serving in the IDF’s elite Golani Brigade in Gaza and died when his unit’s armored vehicle was attacked by a roadside bomb. Kraft sent the letter after he spotted a photo of Steinberg wearing a New England Patriots cap in a news broadcast about the tragic events in Gaza.

Here’s the full text of the letter, which was photographed and tweeted by the Jewish Journal‘s Jared Sichel, and appears to have been framed by the family:

It is with a heavy heart that I write to you after having learned about your dear son and distinguished member of the Israel Defense Forces, Max. Although I didn’t have the privilege of knowing your son Max personally, I have taken the liberty of reaching out to you since I noticed him wearing a New England Patriots cap in one of the broadcasted photos. He represents the consummate patriot and I am forever grateful for the sacrifices he made to keep our beloved Israel safe. His dedication and loyalty to Israel have not gone unnoticed and I am sure he has left behind a legacy of which you and your family can be proud.

On behalf of the entire New England Patriots team, please accept our most sincere condolences as we are all profoundly saddened by his untimely passing.

Sincerely,

Robert Kraft

Beneath the printed text, there was a handwritten note: In Hebrew lettering, the words “b’ahava raba”—with great love—followed by the lines “‘We are all Patriots’ / With love of our tradition and the people of Eretz Israel.”

Stuart Steinberg told the Associated Press that his son Max “was completely dedicated and committed to serving the country of Israel. He was focused, he was clear in what the mission was, and he was dedicated to the work he needed to be doing.”

The funeral—attended by 30,000 people—took place on July 23 on Jerusalem’s Mount Herzl, the burial place of Israel’s fallen soldiers and several prime ministers. A memorial service is scheduled to take place in Los Angeles on August 6.

(Image: Jared Sichel / Twitter)

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On July 24 in New York City, adults, teenagers, and children participated in an “art vigil” organized by the not-for-profit Israel advocacy organization, Artists 4 Israel.

Just north of Washington Square Park, one group of participants created drawings with oil crayons and reflected on a vigil, consisting of art and electric candles, set up to honor those suffering on both sides of the conflict. Across the street, beneath the Washington Square arch, dozens of men and women—many with Israeli flags draped across their shoulders—held hands and danced as they sang “Am Yisrael Chai.” Interspersed were participants holding signs that read “Free Palestine is Code for Kill the Jews,” and “Hamas Ruins the Lives of Innocent Children.”

These juxtaposing responses to the Gaza conflict—one group focusing on solidarity and politics, the other more meditative—reflect the range in attitudes of American Jews towards the current conflagration. (In fact, The Times of Israel reports that the art vigil combined with a “concurrent” but seemingly unrelated pro-Israel demonstration.) But between these factions was there was a common thread of feeling: support for Israel, and a desire to see Hamas’s terror capabilities extinguished.

Participants at the event expressed concern at the rising fatalities—now at 1,650 Palestinian civilian deaths, 63 Israeli military deaths, and three Israeli civilian deaths—and appreciated the ability to have a place to create, pray, and express support for Israel.

Artists 4 Israel was formed in 2009 during Operation Cast Lead, in response to the growing number of international artists boycotting Israel and refusing to perform in the country. Its aim is to refute “misconceptions that the arts community does not support Israel” as well as “beautify the landscape and strengthen the spirit of the people of Israel and the Middle East.”

“This is a first of a kind art vigil and the idea is paint and prayer—whichever people connect with and it’s in support of Israel,” said Lance Laytner, public relations officer for Artists 4 Israel. “The hope of the art exhibit is it does something that only art can do.”

Ariel Maron, who is raising funds through an Indiegogo campaign to purchase equipment for soldiers in the IDF, said he had come to “cheer on Israel, show support for all the Jews in Israel, and promote other countries to do the same.”

“It’s unfortunate what’s happening in Europe, in Turkey, and Paris with the burning of the synagogues and hopefully we’ll have more non-violent rallies,” he continued. “We love Muslims, we love Arabs; we don’t like terror.”

Several vigil participants expressed concern about the fact that Hamas is using children as human shields.

“I think people need to understand and know that there is terrorism going on right now in the Middle East. What I’m the most upset about—as is my organization—is that children are being used as human shields by Hamas,” said Hillary Markowitz of Mothers Against Terrorism. “Hamas is telling people, ‘put your children here’.”

The exhibit also featured a Bomb Shelter Museum, a structure constructed with the same dimensions and thickness as the shelters used in Sderot, Israel. Inside the shelter, a screen played footage of families running from rockets fired by Hamas.

On July 22, Artists 4 Israel set up the Bomb Shelter Museum in the Upper Senate Park, near the capital building in Washington, D.C., inviting President Obama, Vice President Biden, Secretary of State John Kerry, and all congress members. But achieving the turnout they desired was described as “a challenge” in their press release.

“There has been a lot of advice from U.S. officials and even some unexpectedly snide comments—from Secretary Kerry in particular—about how Israel should handle the current crisis,” said Artists 4 Israel Executive Director Craig Dershowitz in a statement about the Washington exhibit. “But those same officials have never had to experience grabbing their children and running for their lives. They say you cannot understand a person’s decisions until you have walked a mile in their shoes. We’re not asking a mile, just as many steps as you can take in 15 seconds.”

Pastors, rabbis, and an imam from the NYU Islamic Center, Khalid Latiff, were invited to participate in the Washington Square Park vigil. Imam Latiff lent his support, but was unable to attend because it was the last night of Ramadan. Pastor Dan Quagliata of The Bridge Church and Rabbi Scott Matous of the New Synagogue both attended, and jointly led a prayer session at the end of the event. “We’re for peace in Israel. We’re for peace in the Middle East. We’re for peace in all the communities—and to try to show from a faith-based perspective that everybody’s welcome,” said Rabbi Matous.

Elisa, a 19-year-old woman whose brother is a lone soldier in the Israeli Defense Force and who is getting ready to make Aliyah herself, drew the emblem of the IDF inside the star of David. Her mother drew two small caricatures to represent an Israeli soldier helping a Palestinian child. “A lot of people find peace, find love with connecting with other human beings, and art is a form to do that in,” said Elisa.

As part of the outreach aims of the organization, the drawings made at the event will be distributed to bomb shelters located in schools and daycare centers throughout Israel.

Yvonne Marie Juris is a second year student in the Graduate School of Journalism at Columbia University. She writes about religion and the arts. Follow her on Twitter at @fancifemini.

(Image: Seth Wolfson, Artists 4 Israel)

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I made aliyah just in time for a war. I left my home in Australia full of excitement, determination, and a belief in the wonderful future that was waiting for me in Israel. I had every hope that I would live a fulfilling and happy life in the land that I love. On June 12, as I left my family, friends, and boyfriend behind, everything felt possible.

On June 12, three Israeli teenagers went missing.

As I sit here at my favorite cafe in Kerem Hateimanim, the little Yemenite neighborhood of Tel Aviv I have fallen in love with, I think about the sheer magnitude of the escalation of violence. I think about how my own personal beginning is unfolding against a backdrop of suffering in a beautiful country that for so long I have been wanting to call home.

The news of the murder of the Israeli teens, followed all too swiftly by the revenge killing of a Palestinian teen, was met with a collective gasp from a horrified nation. We were using each other’s children as weapons. In those early days, I walked the streets watching the people around me, their heads bowed low with regret, fear, and the knowledge of what was to come. Those long summer days have somehow trickled into weeks, and each week brings with it a deeper descent into a grave reality.

It has been difficult to set up a life in these unsettling times. I am still looking for a home, a job, a way to set in motion the life I have always dreamed of. But I am preoccupied, as is everyone in this country. Beyond our own immediate worries are greater, more pressing fears. Barely a day has gone by without hearing the sound of sirens bellowing throughout the city. Everywhere I go I am within earshot of the resounding ‘booms’ of war. Each day we wake up with a sense of dread about what might have happened while we were sleeping—or not sleeping—the night before. How many more innocent lives have been lost? How many more children have been taken from their mothers? How much more of this can we stand?

Amid the plethora of posts about the of Israeli-Palestinian conflict you will read or have already read today, you have found your way to me—or I have found my way to you. You have come across the words of an Australian girl feeling her way through a war zone, trying to make a life in conditions most other nations would consider unlivable. I take my seat at the table of an overwrought conversation, but I hope to make a contribution by describing to you the Israel I have chosen.

On my first day as an Israeli, I was greeted warmly by a group of friends, many of whom had made their aliyah journeys before me. I saw that they had morphed into new, Israeli version of themselves. Some were soldiers; others had spent time in Yeshiva. Some had worked the land; others had walked the land. They were living lives vastly different to those of our peers in our home countries. I am inspired by the realization that in this place, there is no telling where I could go, what I could do, or who I could one day become.

As for the Israelis—this huge, dysfunctional family continues to move me. Since my arrival I have heard of countless rallies organized in the name of solidarity, I have sat in a circle of bereaved Israeli parents (who unfortunately could not meet with their Arab counterparts) who gather nightly to tell their stories together in the name of peace, I have seen a memorial built on the Tel Aviv promenade for a 21-year-old soldier killed in Gaza only a week ago. I have traveled the country and seen that some of the most beautiful lookouts, springs, and forests are dedicated in the names of those who have died fighting for our freedom to enjoy them. I have been to a gig in the city where candles were passed out to the audience, the lead singer reminding us all to keep hope in our hearts for a bright tomorrow. It feels impossible, but we do.

This is Israel. These are Israelis. In this place the call of war is answered not only by soldiers, but by an entire country asking “What can I do?” Volunteers work tirelessly looking after other people’s children in bomb shelters as parents go out to work; supplies are collected all over the country and driven to hospitals, bases, and cities in need. Struggling businesses in the south are assisted by special markets set up for people in the north and center of Israel to purchase their goods. The whole country mobilizes into action, and everyone becomes everyone’s responsibility.

The other day I traveled with a dear friend, Rotem, to visit wounded soldiers at Soroka Medical Center in Beersheva. As we made our way through the ward, the news of my recent aliyah was met by the soldiers and their families with wide smiles and a series of congratulations. These incredible young men had been on the front in Gaza only days before, and here they were telling me what a great job I had done in coming to Israel. Later, after Rotem and I left the ward to sit outside and gather our thoughts, we watched two small Arab children approach an Israeli child with balloons. Within minutes, all three kids were frolicking and laughing on the grass. The grandmother of the Israeli child turned to us and said, “This is what it could be like.” Despite the chaos of the crumbling world around us, I know that this was true.

I made aliyah from Australia just in time for a war. But my new beginning in Israel is in good company; I draw strength from the people around me. I think of friends who were married to the soundtrack of sirens; I think of my newly pregnant friend, who despite her husband being called to reserve duty three weeks ago, maintains strength, calm and hope for the new beginning growing inside her. My Israeli friends are people who don’t believe in talk, just action. A dear friend tells me, “Tachlis, get on with it, start doing!” and that’s the way they live. I take my lead from them.

I think often about the choice I made to come to Israel, the implications that it has had on my life, and the reverberations my choice will have one day on my children. Yet, every day I feel affirmed in the life that I have chosen for myself, and I feel strengthened by the support of my extraordinary Israeli family around me.

Everything still feels possible.

Melanie Koss is a lawyer and writer from Melbourne, Australia currently living in Tel Aviv. Follow her on Twitter at @mellehkoss.

(Image: Benjamin / Flickr)

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Kids, gather ’round for another exciting installment of “War, What is It Good For?” Episode two: Soliciting celebrities’ opinions on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Specifically, Joan Rivers.

Last week, the legendary comedian delivered an impassioned defense of Israel to TMZ, which was gleefully disseminated by supporters and critics of Israel alike. (“Joan Rivers — GOES OFF on Epic Israel/Palestine Rant,” read TMZ’s headline. I was half-hoping firecrackers were going to fly out of her bouffant. Sadly, no dice.)

“Let me just tell you,” Rivers began, planting her feet on the ground outside LAX, where the film crew had accosted her. “If New Jersey were firing rockets into New York, we would wipe them out… You can not throw rockets and not expect people to defend themselves.” She said BBC and CNN “should be ashamed of themselves” for their unbalanced coverage of the conflict, and then, when asked about Selena Gomez’s ‘Pray for Gaza’ Instagram pic, she questioned the 22-year-old singer’s ability to spell the word ‘Palestinian.’

The video clearly struck a chord with TV producers the world over, because Israel’s channel 10 sought Rivers out for a more in-depth interview today. When asked what the country could do to improve its PR campaign—and why celebrities like Gomez and Rihanna were expressing their support for Gaza on social media—she offered the following analysis: “They see pictures of children and they go crazy. I think Israel should start showing pictures of dead puppies, and they’ll go boo hoo.”

The interview concluded with a riff on ‘Gotta Have It, Make It Stop,’ the hot-or-not segment from Rivers’ celebrity style show, Fashion Police.

“I think we should make it [the conflict] stop, and I think I know how to make it stop,” she opined. “I think every Palestinian should get a nose job, because once somebody’s had a nose job, they won’t fight because they’re scared the new nose will get broken. I think we should send over every great Jewish plastic surgeon doctor, fix their noses, and there’ll be peace in the Middle East.”

Ladies and gentlemen, the floor is open to comments. Be my guest.

Related: Russell Brand Rips Into Sean Hannity For Bullying Guest on Gaza Conflict

Image: YouTube

The post Joan Rivers: Nose Jobs Are the Key to Peace in the Middle East appeared first on Jewcy.

Whatever your politics, Sean Hannity’s bullying of Palestinian-American political analyst Yousef Munayyer on The Sean Hannity Show on Thursday night was simply outrageous. Hannity’s behavior towards a guest he invited onto his show—which included finger-jabbing, shouting, and interrupting Munayyer to such an extent that Munayyer couldn’t utter a single complete sentence—was unconscionable and rude.

But to the relief of polite people the world over, Hannity’s despicable behavior caught the attention of a crusading celebrity. Intellectual bad-boy Russell Brand jumped into the fray yesterday to call out the Fox anchor’s treatment of his guest, posting a point-by-point video response to the segment on YouTube. It’s sort of like a director’s cut, with clips of Brand commentary spliced into the original footage of Hannity’s “interview.”

At one point, Hannity asks Munayyer over and over if he thinks Hamas is a terrorist organization. When Munayyer attempts to answer, Hannity cuts him off: “Is Hamas—what part of this can’t you get through your thick head?” Cut to Brand laughing. “That’s really rude!” He says, cracking up. Back to Hannity: “Is Hamas a terrorist organization? Yes or no?” Munayyer, for his part, stays remarkably calm.

“Sean’s not a solution-based guy,” Brand says, heaving a deep sigh. Rather than looking for insightful commentary and ways to arrive at peace, “Sean’s thinking, ‘We want conflict. What things can I say to exacerbate conflict?'” And, later: “Not that it’s not bad that Israel has to deal with terrorist attacks. Of course it is. But what are we looking for? A solution? Or just a verdict on who’s bad? Because that’s not going to get us anywhere.”

Testify, Brother Brand. And keep up the media manners watchdog. I’m a big fan.

Image: YouTube

Related: Joan Rivers: Nose Jobs Are the Key to Peace in the Middle East

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Remember that bonkers and frankly dubious story about the Jewish doctor, Lisa Rosenberg, who got kicked off a JetBlue flight a couple of weeks ago for getting into a verbal altercation with a Palestinian passenger about the conflict in Gaza? Well, buckle your seat belts dear readers, because there is some CRAY CRAY turbulence up ahead. Turns out the alleged “Palestinian” passenger is actually Jewish—and she’s Menachem Begin’s third cousin.

The New York Post reports that the unnamed passenger revealed her the truth of her identity (uh, minus her name) “in a confessional phone call to Rosenberg’s office last week.” Oh, to have been a fly on that wall. She is from Brooklyn—Brooklyn!—which, as we all know, is the main source of the world’s self-righteous political pontificating. (It’s OK you guys, I can say that because I’m a Jewish political pontificator from Brooklyn.)

“I told you at the time I was Palestinian because I wanted you to stop your rant. If I said I was Jewish, you wouldn’t have stopped,” the woman told Rosenberg, who recorded the conversation. “I shouldn’t have said it, but I did.”

The woman also denied calling Rosenberg a “Zionist pig,” as the outraged doctor later told ­reporters. “I’m more Zionist than you’ll ever be,” she told Rosenberg. “My third cousin was ­Menachem Begin.”

She told The Post, “Like most people, I wish Israel and Palestine could find a way to coexist peacefully.”

New York Post, you may now drop your mic and exit the stage. We have hit peak mishegas.

The post Record Scratch: “Palestinian” Woman From JetBlue Altercation is Jewish appeared first on Jewcy.

Like most other young academics, I’m always agonizing about tenure and job security. “Peace? Who wants peace?” I often jokingly respond when people ask me for my opinion about the Arab-Israeli conflict. “As a professor of Israel Studies, instability is good for my career!” Unfortunately, thanks to recent weeks of war and crisis, it seems like my employment prospects are bright. The line between the personal and professional is liminal in this so-called Holy Land.

I’m writing from Jerusalem, where I’ve left the library for the classroom of lived experience this summer. I arrived for a few months of research on my book only days into the national drama of the kidnapping of three teenagers in the West Bank (at a hitchhiking post I myself have stood at, no less), later found murdered by rogue terrorists from Hebron. Later that week, while running errands in the center of town, I was quite shaken when I unintentionally found myself in the midst of a mob protest by radical right-wing Israelis screaming “Kahane was right,” and “Arabs are sons of bitches,” as they ran past me toward a fast-food restaurant looking for a Palestinian employee to lynch.

A few days later, a splinter group seemingly inspired by these riots brutally tortured and immolated Muhammed al-Kheidr, an innocent teenager from East Jerusalem. As Israelis and Palestinians began to reckon with these dual tragedies, the Hamas rocket campaign and corresponding Israeli retaliatory bombings of Gaza started in earnest, with the conversation soon shifting from searching our souls to searching for the nearest bomb shelter. There has been no refuge for the tumult in our collective consciousness over the past month. (On the bright side, I did get to meet all my new neighbors without proper underwear, as the first rocket siren caught me in the shower with less than a minute to throw on a sundress and seek shelter.)

Last week, Israel initiated a ground invasion to uncertain ends. So much for that relaxing summer sabbatical on the beach and sipping cappuccinos in the Old City, I thought to myself. Here we go again.

Every day I turn on my laptop to more bad news. How have we not hit bottom, I wonder, how can it possibly be getting worse? I’ve probably read every major book written on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict in the past few decades—I skimmed them all for my doctoral exams so you don’t have to!—and feel that scholarship has failed us completely. How can I feel so ill-equipped respond to the current crisis, when understanding the Israel-Palestinian conflict is my day job?

Perhaps because years of reading, researching, writing, and thinking about the conflict have deprived me of simple, easy dichotomies: good vs. evil, Israel vs. Palestine, winners vs. losers, peace vs. war, past vs. future. How I long to luxuriate in the realm of intellectual, emotional, and moral certitude! I sometimes wish for a world of black and white, when all I see is complexity in shades of grey.

Despite this—or perhaps because of it—I feel an obligation to explain, to dialogue, to argue, to share my expertise, for whatever it’s worth. With campuses empty on summer vacation, I’ve traded lecture halls for social media, which has become my classroom, my battlefield (since I am privileged not to have to experience the real one), and even my (Jewish) cross to bear. Whether it’s fighting open-heartedly with a Gazan friend on Facebook, trading quips on Twitter, or writing blog posts, I feel compelled to contribute my knowledge and continue the conversation.  I sometimes feel like I should receive danger pay in this business: moderating between right-wingers and left-wingers, challenging conventional dogma, trying (sometimes unsuccessfully) to bring new voices and keep old faces involved in a discussion can be emotionally taxing and ego-bruising. But I see my job as much as a calling as a career, so tuning out isn’t really a choice.

Engaging in a “war” online, however,  prompts big questions. How can academics best contribute to public debate in times of crisis?  Switching my scholar’s tweed cap for my pundit hat blurs the boundary between the personal and the professional, the private and the political. Online discourse is a challenge to “that noble dream” of academic objectivity, but it’s also some of the most important work a historian can do these days. I do not hide my proud affiliation as a liberal Zionist, but my primary agenda is to bring my knowledge and historical perspective to contemporary issues, helping to put them in context.  Mostly, I try to mediate between multiple narratives. I doubt I’ll be winning a Nobel Peace Prize anytime soon. Truth be told, it can sometimes feel futile—when earnest efforts at engagement, analysis, and dialogue devolve into name-calling and uncritical ranting; when you just can’t get people to see eye-to-eye late at night on Facebook. It’s intellectually and emotionally exhausting work — I don’t blame many of my colleagues for giving up, taking a break, or avoiding this work entirely, since not every academic feels it is part of their job description.  Sometimes, I feel like tuning out and going back to writing that obscure book or journal article that only four people in the universe will read, including my Mom.

But in those few moments when people—especially those who are perhaps not involved or ideologically committed—plead with you to proceed, to continue the authentic multi-dimensional discussion, or even to begin to redefine what Israel and Zionism mean to our generation, how can I give up? Online engagement is one important component of that precious opportunity to be a Jewish and Zionist leader—it’s a mission I won’t pass up.

Mostly, being a historian in a time of crisis is a heart-breaking business, especially when one becomes a historical witness to the profound lack of empathy on both sides of the conflict. Dehumanization is our worst enemy. How we can ever have peace without acknowledging the “other” as a person; without acknowledging the basic truth that they are human beings with human rights? How can we co-exist without compassion in the present? Perhaps it would be useful to reinvent the role of historian as a kind of ‘empatharian,’ one who teaches others how to empathize with the lived past, so that we can be encouraged to contemplate our future together.

Unfortunately, professors don’t have all the answers about how to solve the Arab-Israeli conflict. But the most important thing is to ask the right questions. Since I began teaching in England, I am often reminded of Shylock’s speech in The Merchant of Venice: “If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that.”

If we can continue to remind ourselves that both Israelis and Palestinians are people deserving of human rights—and also capable of acts of vengeance—historical empathy may lead us one step closer to an enduring peace.

Dr. Sara Yael Hirschhorn is the University Research Lecturer/Sidney Brichto fellow in Israel Studies at the University of Oxford (UK), where she’s working on a forthcoming book (from Harvard University Press) entitled “City on a Hilltop: American Jews and the Israeli Settler Movement Since 1967.” Her twitter handle is @SaraHirschhorn1. 

Image: Sukharevskyy Dmytro (nevodka) / Shutterstock.com

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RollingStone.com reports that Neil Young has cancelled his Tel Aviv concert, scheduled for July 17, due to the escalating conflict in Gaza and Israel. With rockets being intercepted daily above Tel Aviv, and 30,00 fans expected to show up to Hayarkon Park for the gig, the security risk was simply too great.

“It is with heavy hearts and deep sadness that we must cancel our one and only Israeli concert due to tensions which have rendered the event unsafe at this time,” said a representative for Young. “We’ll miss the opportunity to play for our fans and look forward to playing in Israel and Palestine in peace.”

But, happily, there’s a small silver lining to the disappointing news: Young has pledged to donate money to two organizations that foster musical collaboration between Israeli and Palestinian youth—the Louise & Tillie Alpert Youth Music Center of Israel (AKA Beit Alpert), and Heartbeat.

According to The Times of Israel, Beit Alpert “serves as the home to music ensembles of children from all over Jerusalem, including the Arab Youth Band and the Ensemble for Jewish & Arab Youth.” Hearbeat, which was founded in 2007 with funding from Fulbright and MTV, runs programs supporting about 100 youth musicians from across Israel and the West Bank. Their programs are scholarship-based, “ensuring equal access to all.”

Neil Young, you’ve got a Heart of Gold.

(Image: DFree / Shutterstock.com)

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