My colleagues and I are striving for balance. Sensationalist takes on social media are exhausting us
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There’s a classic episode of Seinfeld in which Jerry’s dentist converts to Judaism for reasons that are entirely suspect.
As Dr. Tim Whatley (a pre-Malcolm in the Middle and Breaking Bad Bryan Cranston) proudly announces his new affiliation to Seinfeld, he demonstrates his Yiddishkeit by requesting a shtickle of fluoride from the hygienist and telling jokes about a rabbi and a farmer’s daughter.
This so distresses Jerry that he walks into a Catholic confessional and tells a priest. When asked if Whatley’s behavior offended him as a Jew, Jerry answers, “No, it offends me as a comedian!”
Navigating the hellscape that is the latest and bloodiest conflict between Hamas and Israel, a war that has killed more than 1,300 Israelis and an estimated more than 4,000 Palestinians, many on each side children, I confess I have been noticing the online behavior of friends and acquaintances. In many instances, I take offense.
But I am not offended as a Jew. I’m offended as a journalist.
What I’m expressing is not exactly novel. A number of Jews on the left have already shared their dismay over gleeful reactions to the Oct. 7 attacks from a few of their fellow travelers. In my corner there is nothing quite so sordid, apart from certain accounts I quickly blocked. Mostly it’s been silence, and then, out of nowhere, infographics and selective outrage.
People post hyperbolic language about how no one cares or is speaking out for either Jews or Palestinians. Often, as evidence for their claims — and just how outraged you should be — they reference atrocities that have yet to be credibly proven.
Case in point: After the tragic explosion said to have killed hundreds in a Gaza City hospital on Tuesday, Hamas’ health ministry and doctors, surrounded by corpses at a press conference, placed the blame squarely on Israel. I saw in real time how eager many were to accept this version of events at face value, even as the Israeli side scrambled to provide a counternarrative. By Wednesday morning, there was ample evidence from the Israeli side, backed by President Biden and the U.S. National Security Council, that the explosion may well have been caused by a misfire of a Palestinian Islamic Jihad projectile aimed at Israel.
I don’t know what happened — I’m no rocket scientist — but boy, was everyone else on my feed an instant expert in ballistics and crater diameters. Now, X — formerly Twitter — and Instagram are brimming with posts shouting “shame” at Washington for trusting its own intelligence agencies, and calling President Biden “Genocide Joe” for embracing Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and pledging aid to Israel in an Oval Office address.
On the other side, the rush to judge Israel for war crimes has already been dubbed a “blood libel,” with one hot pink meme callously blaring “Isn’t it crazy how Gaza is running out of everything but rockets?”
I’m exhausted. And I feel bad for even saying that while Israelis mourn their dead, and Palestinians in Gaza struggle to do even that while under fire or fleeing south. As a rule, I take reports from any entity controlled by Hamas, and contrary ones from the Israeli government, with several tablespoons of salt. Doubt, and verify, as my colleague Mira Fox has diligently done with the Ahli Arab hospital tragedy, the complete picture of which is still very much evolving. (For her pains, one commenter suggested she be tried at the Hague.)
But here is where I am privileged. I and my colleagues have the duty and the mandate to seek the truth and write the first draft of what is already, two weeks in, a deeply painful history. And we have been, all while allowing for doubt.
We have not run sensational headlines about decapitated babies. We did not repeat rampant rumors of sexual assault — rumors that ended up in President Biden’s public remarks — because we had not verified them. Instead, my colleague Arno Rosenfeld reported that the Israeli military itself had not yet found proof of rape as part of the horrific Hamas massacre, and did his best to document how those claims metastasized.
We have decided, outside of our opinion pages, to avoid framing Oct. 7 as “the most Jews killed in a single day since the Holocaust,” a statement that, while true, is loaded: It taps into a deep reservoir of trauma, making it harder to process the specific circumstances of this ongoing conflict. While we are a Jewish publication serving a Jewish audience, we felt it imperative to publish a piece on Palestinian Americans fearing for relatives in Gaza, and we have worked tirelessly to include the perspectives of Palestinian contributors. Our writer on the ground traveled to interview Israeli Bedouins, a largely Muslim group in Israel that has been broadly overlooked in coverage, and is hurting from what they see as the world’s apathy.
Our coverage may not be to everyone’s liking — you should see the Instagram comments on our stories about the Jewish Voice for Peace and IfNotNow rallies — but we, and our colleagues across the industry, are trying to provide clarity amid a fog of war.
That mission is particularly important in this situation, which — even if social media would have it otherwise — is complicated, and — as social media so often proves — emotionally charged.
And so, yes, within my own striving for fairness, I find myself offended by those who, however understandably, are moved more by passion than by facts. I’m not offended as a Jew, or under any -ism, but as a Jewish journalist — with a heavy emphasis on the journalist. But then, this is the burden — not of being chosen, but of my chosen profession.
I continue to hope that the journalistic — and deeply Jewish — spirit of inquiry can prevail. And, if you see a journalist (Jewish or not), maybe buy them a beer or coffee. Or just wish them a shtickle encouragement.
This article was originally published on the Forward.