Split|screen. Saudi Arabia has a terrible human rights record, and is called out for it. President Biden is right to do so, even as he valiantly tries to balance his critique against legitimate American national interests in Saudi Arabia.
Iran has a terrible human rights record. President Biden’s response? Silence.
It is not just the president. It is his entire team. It is not just the political echelon. It is the fourth estate — the commentators, the reporters, the broadcasters. Iran suppresses (i.e., harasses or kills) Iranians who demand freedom of speech and freedom of assembly. The response? Nothing. Split|screen: human rights count in one place, but not in another.
The next split | screen: anti-Judaism.
I do not get to define, for example, Catholicism. I do not get to say what the Catholic position on abortion is or should be. That is for Catholics to do, not for Jews. Similarly, non-Jews do not get to define Judaism, yet this is what everyone does when they sincerely say they are not anti-Semitic, just anti-Israel. I am not talking about being against a given Israeli policy; that is not being anti-Israel. I am talking about being against Israel per se. To be against anti-Semitism and also to be anti-Israel is to presume on the right to define Judaism.
For Judaism defines Israel as integral to Jewish religion, Jewish law, Jewish destiny, Jewish history. To be anti-Israel per se, and also to claim not to be anti-Semitic, is to define Israel as not central to being Jewish. Non-Jews don’t get to do this, any more than I get to define Catholicism. Split|screen: Not being anti-Semitic, and being anti-Israel per se.
The next split|screen: the college classroom.
Caveat: I have not been in a college classroom as either a student or a teacher in a long time. I cannot say how representative what I hear is. That said, what I hear is this: In the humanities, the classroom is imbalanced if it does not provide for both liberal and conservative instructors. However, if the classroom does provide for both liberal and conservative instructors, this is not positive; this is split|screen.
For neither the liberal nor the conservative viewpoint, articulated by the instructor, belong in the classroom. The goal of the classroom is to enable students to define, develop and defend their own viewpoints. The goal is to enable the students to think carefully for themselves, not to be exposed to the viewpoint of one instructor or another. The classroom is about the student, not about the professor.
Split|screen: “balancing” the classroom.
The next split|screen: the smart phone.
It is efficient; it saves time. Waze guides you to the least traveled route. A text saves you a long phone call. An email can save a trip altogether. So can a zoom shiva or a zoom lecture. All this taken together does not spell efficiency. It is split|screen.
For it is but one part, and very much the lesser part, of a bigger picture: Endless video games. Lectures I am told I “must” hear that I don’t need to hear. Countless pictures of virtually the same image. Empty conversations — because, how can I not respond? Pointless emails (I receive scores, sometimes hundreds, a day; I doubt I am the exception.) Split|screen: the time “saved” by the smart phone.
The next split|screen: the piles on my desk.
I need them. I need everything there. I will act on this, read that, learn from this, file the next thing down, forward the item below that.
Here, perhaps, is the height of delusion. If it’s been on my desk for a week, let alone a month, let alone three months, I don’t need it, I’m not going to act on it, I won’t read it, maybe I could learn from it but I won’t; if I haven’t forwarded it by now, I never will. Split|screen: the chasm between my fine intentions and my time constraints, or between my needs and my limitations.
The next split|screen: memory.
I have before me (on my messy desk) a beautifully addressed envelope and note from the late Dennis Gallagher. He was a calligrapher. It was always an artistic experience to receive a written communication from him. He communicated in high style. What a beautiful remembrance, this envelope and note.
I won’t deny: They’re beautiful to have. They summon his memory. They recall his presence. They bring a wonderful, if sad, feeling. Yet, they’re split|screen. Dennis is not here. He will never be here again. So it is with everyone we once cherished, and in a sense still do cherish, but of necessity oh so thinly. These artifacts of memory carry us only so far, and, in any event, their emotional, spiritual and intellectual configuration are impossible to transmit to someone who never knew the person. This is the ultimate split|screen.
Copyright © 2022 by the Intermountain Jewish News
