On The State of World Jewry
American journalist, writer, and editor Bari Weiss was coming to speak at the 92nd Street Y in NYC.
I follow Ms. Weiss on Substack, where she is the founder and editor of The Free Press. Her voice reflects my own on so many issues that I find myself nodding vigorously while reading her articles. Her opinions on topics relating to Israel, Judaism, antisemitism, and many social issues align closely with my own. I especially enjoyed her interview with Lucy Aharish, Israel’s first Arab Muslim news presenter.
Now was my opportunity to hear Ms. Weiss in person as she delivered the 2024 State of World Jewry Address, a prestigious honor previously given to giants such as Elie Wiesel, Abba Eban, and Amos Oz. I believed Ms. Weiss to be a perfect fit to follow in their footsteps.
I registered for my ticket a week in advance and read all the instructions about what one was and wasn’t allowed to bring into the venue. This included no backpacks or large bags. I knew security would be tight. And rightly so. Since October 7, incidents of antisemitism in the U.S. have risen almost 400%. In Australia, where I was born, the rate is almost 600% with stories coming out detailing harassment of Jews and boycotts of Jewish businesses reminiscent of pre-Nazi Germany. In France, antisemitic acts increased by over 1000%.
There were bound to be protesters at an event where Jews were present, creating a security risk for people who, although living thousands of miles away from Israel, were being harassed, attacked, and even killed.
In November last year, Paul Kessler, a Jewish pro-Israel advocate, was attacked at a pro-Palestinian rally, resulting in his death. In February, a French Jew was stabbed thirty-five times after the perpetrator directed antisemitic abuse at him. Just last week, a young Iranian-Jewish dentist by the name of Dr. Benjamin Harouni was murdered by his patient, Mohammed Abdulkareen, in an incident believed to be antisemitic in nature. I won’t even begin to address the amount of hate and harassment Jewish students on University campuses are facing, but you can read some of it here.
On the night of the Bari Weiss event, having just finished seeing a client downtown, I jumped in a cab and headed to the Y. Since October 7 and the subsequent war in Gaza, I have been extremely conscious of what I say in front of strangers, not knowing someone’s sensitivities or opinions on a subject that has been front and center of my life and in the news. If a friend calls while in the cab, will I be able to speak freely, considering ninety eight percent of all my discussions with family and friends now revolve around the latest news out of Israel? Any update on the hostages? Did loved ones have to rush to bomb shelters today? How many Israeli soldiers have died in Gaza? It’s a small community, so everyone knows someone who knows someone directly affected. I didn’t have to worry because it was a short ride. The chances of someone calling would be slim.
My driver’s name is José, and I wonder what, if anything, he thinks about October 7, Hamas, the war in Gaza. When I walk the streets of NYC I now find myself looking at people, with my inside voice asking “friend or foe?” Two blocks before my stop, I heard what I had hoped to avoid. First, it was the drums, then the loud chants. “From the River to the Sea.” And then I see the red, green, black and white flags. Almost every head is wrapped with a black and white or red and white kaffiyeh, leaving only a gap for their eyes. If they are so convinced of the justness and legitimacy of their protests, why do they hide their faces?
Ugh. Shit, I called out loud. I wasn’t sure if my driver connected my angst with the chants as we arrived at my destination and as the voices became louder, but I wasn’t going to start a conversation with José, who probably just wanted to be left alone to do his work. I stepped out of the cab and found myself walking by dozens of protesters. They were here to show their anger at Israel for the war in Gaza by protesting against Jews in NYC. I didn’t think it prudent to ask if they were also spending their time wisely protesting Russian people in NYC for the Russian invasion of Ukraine or protesting Chinese people in NYC for China’s treatment of the Uyghurs. How did they feel about the ongoing massacre and humanitarian crisis in Sudan? I didn’t want to overwhelm them with my questions, so I chose to ignore them. But I knew that the anger of these protesters, now standing just a few feet away from me, was misplaced. They should be protesting Hamas and their supporters for the barbaric attack on October 7. They should be protesting Hamas for kidnapping innocent babies, children, adults, and the elderly, holding them in tunnels in Gaza for more than four months. Their anger should be directed at Hamas for not putting any systems in place to protect their people, knowing Israel would retaliate after such a brutal massacre, and for using the 300 miles of tunnels for their terrorist endeavors. I should be angry at them for being angry at us! I stood tall as I walked by their hateful rhetoric.
The protesters were cordoned off within barriers. There was a significant police presence. I was directed through a pathway leading to the entrance of the Y and was grateful that no protesters were permitted inside.
This was bringing back memories. Two months earlier, I attended a panel discussion at the same venue entitled U.S. Leadership and the Changing Middle East. United States Congressman Ritchie Torres was one of the speakers. Torres was New York City’s youngest elected official and the first openly LGBTQ person elected to office in the Bronx. He now represents NY-15 in Congress and is a member of the Committee on Financial Services and the House Select Committee on the Chinese Communist Party.
I sat in the third row of the Torres talk as the audience members walked in before the start of the discussion. Looking around the room, I instantly spotted all those whom I thought could be disrupters. Call me a profiler and you would be right. But my instincts were also correct.
Ten minutes into the discussion, the first group of disrupters, who were on my radar, stood up and started yelling at Congressman Torres - accusing him of supporting genocide. Security escorted them out. Another ten minutes into the discussion, the next group stood up to disrupt the talk with their own chants. In all, the panel discussion was interrupted five or six times. The agitators had planted themselves in different areas among the audience, and I had correctly identified them all in advance. It was consoling to at least know these disrupters each paid the $20 entrance fee for their two minutes in the spotlight.
So it was with this experience in mind that I entered the building now with trepidation to hear Ms. Weiss. Bags were checked. Tickets and IDs were scanned. I felt confident I wouldn’t have to endure the same experience as last time, but in any case, I found myself looking all around the room. A row of police stood at the back. My radar didn’t pick up on any potential disruptors. I had to trust my instincts.
It was time. Bari Weiss took the stage to a standing ovation. She spoke eloquently, confidently, and with passion and sincerity. World Jewry was not in a good state. She was right. One only had to be awake to see the hate and vitriol being spewed against Jews, yes Jews, online and in the streets. They say they aren’t protesting Jews but rather Israel and Zionists. Colonizers. Apartheid. Genocide. I can only shake my head. Thousands of years of Jewish history with a biblical connection to the land of Israel being reduced to genocidal chants and repetitions of sensational posts seen on TikTok. The ignorance and irony would be comical if it didn’t jeopardize the lives of Jews worldwide and the existence of Israel.
Photo by MA.Daniels
The only interruptions were that of applause and some laughter from the audience, evoked by some of Weiss’ good-humored statements.
Inside the room, with one thousand people present, there was civility. Peace. Calm. Just like the pro-Israel rallies and protests. Like the pro-Israel rally in Washington, DC, where Jews and our allies came to sing, pray, hear speeches, and console one another. No arrests were made. There was no destruction. No hatred. We, as Jews, will continue to learn, educate, create, live, love, pray, and not cower away from being proud of our heritage, our religion, our traditions. We will stand strong in the face of adversity.
The warmth in the room was in stark contrast to the cold that awaited us outside. Not only the cold of winter but the cold reception awaiting us from the protesters.
When the program ended, we were herded by officers like cattle to the exit. “Stay to the left,” they told us. “Keep to the left.” We shuffled along. “Please only exit to the left through the barriers. This was because, to our right, the protesters were gathered, waiting for their chance to demonize these big, bad Jews.
Audience members all walked left in the same direction, irrespective of whether someone needed to go right. The chants were loud and vicious. The seriousness of the moment was not lost on me.
This was the State of World Jewry.