O

n Feb. 6, Sen. Elizabeth Warren, 
D-Mass., made headlines when 
she announced she would not 

be attending the annual American Israel 
Public 
Affairs 
Committee 
(AIPAC), 

conference in Washington, D.C. Sen. Bernie 
Sanders, I-Vt., followed suit a few weeks 
later, citing concern “about the platform 
AIPAC provides for leaders who express 
bigotry and oppose basic Palestinian 
rights.” In late February, these candidates 
were also joined in their boycott by 
candidates Sen. Amy Klobuchar, D-Minn., 
and former Mayor of South Bend, Indiana, 
Pete Buttigieg.

AIPAC advertises its mission as to 

“strengthen, protect and promote the 
United States-Israel relationship in ways 
that enhance the security of the United 
States and Israel.” Its conference, held each 
year in D.C., provides a space for speakers 
from around the world to speak, largely in 
defense of Israeli policies and U.S. support 
for Israel.

Democratic candidates saying “no” 

to AIPAC is a big deal. The mainstream 
Democratic party has not historically 
taken strong viewpoints regarding Israel/
Palestine policy — the default stance for 
prominent Democratic politicians has 
been to affirm American support for Israel 
and to support the establishment of a two-
state solution. In general, the Democratic 
party of the past two decades has branded 
itself as a primarily pro-Israel party.

This election cycle, however, progressive 

Democratic presidential candidates are 
breaking out of this mold. Warren and 
Sanders have both criticized Israeli military 
actions over the past few years; following 
a wave of violence in November of 2019, 
Sanders and Warren spoke out against the 
Israeli blockade of Gaza. Both candidates 
have 
also 
called 
for 
conditioning 

American military aid to Israel. And as 
the Washington Post reported, 2020 is 
the “first time top contenders — Sanders 
and Warren — have boycotted the massive 
American Israel Public Affairs Committee 
policy conference.”

This decision was wildly unpopular 

among many Jewish Americans. But it was 
also applauded by many, significantly by 
the liberal Jewish movement IfNotNow, 
which had done a lot of the organizing 
work through their #SkipAIPAC campaign 
that resulted in candidates boycotting the 
conference.

I fall into the latter camp of Jewish 

Americans, those who are happy to 
see candidates saying no to blind Israel 
support. But I didn’t always identify this 
way.

I grew up attending a reform synagogue 

in Southern California, with a circle of lefty-
ish Jewish family friends. My community 
didn’t talk about Israel/Palestine very 
much — my only concrete memory of 
anything vaguely controversial is my Rabbi 
making some general comment about the 
importance of peace and justice for all. 
The general understanding seemed to be 
that Israel was important, our connection 
to it as Jewish Americans was important, 
but we didn’t need to get too much into the 
weeds of the matter.

Therefore, I came to the University of 

Michigan not really having an idea of how 
I felt about Israel. I went to University of 
Michigan Hillel for Shabbat a few times. 
I heard my Jewish peers talk about how 
important Israel was to them, about 
how Palestinian student activists were 
motivated primarily out of anti-Semitism, 
about how it was necessary to shut 
down criticism of Israel at any possible 
opportunity.

This is what it meant to be Jewish, 

I figured. Being Jewish equated with 
supporting Israeli politics unequivocally, 
wholeheartedly, unabashedly. 

But something didn’t sit quite right with 

me. I’d read some articles on Palestinian 
movements, taken a class on the history of 
the Middle East. I couldn’t quite get behind 
the idea of supporting Israel at all costs, 
even at the expense of others — which I 
was deeply ashamed of. I thought to myself, 
I must just not be Jewish enough to fully 
get it. 

My 
Jewish 
upbringing 
had 
been 

unconventional, this is true. My father was 
raised Catholic, and my mother, despite 
being ethnically Jewish, was raised almost 
entirely secular. It wasn’t until later in 
life that she started actively practicing — 
formulating a Jewish community around 
her, hosting Passover Seders, lighting the 
candles for Shabbat on Friday nights. So, I 
didn’t grow up with passed-down recipes 
for matzo ball soup or a traditional challah 
cover. My family learned traditions from 
our Jewish family friends, adopting new 
ones, slowly recreating a sense of Jewish 
identity for ourselves.

For a long time, this was something I 

was immensely insecure 
about, 
especially 
when 

surrounded by my peers 
who 
had 
attended 

Jewish 
day 
school 

their whole lives, and who 
had 
grandparents 
and 

great-grandparents sitting 
around the table with them 
at the Seder table every 
year.

It wasn’t until I met 

other 
young 
Jewish 

students who felt uneasy 
about Israeli politics that I 
realized I wasn’t alone. The 
realization that there were 
young people out there 
who both cared deeply 
about being Jewish and 
felt uncomfortable with 
the unconditional support 
of the state of Israel was 
huge for me. Sophomore 
year, an organizer from J 
Street — an organization 
that promotes itself as simultaneously 
supporting Israeli and Palestinian rights — 
asked me to grab coffee. When she told me 
about her views on Israel/Palestine, and 
how for her, being Jewish made her want 
to make the state of Israel better — I cried.

I realized that having doubts about 

Israel didn’t make me less Jewish. In 
fact, perhaps my Jewish values were 
the very reason I harbored doubts about 
unconditional support for Israel. My 
Jewish community taught me to think 
critically, to ask questions, to not accept 
stories at face value. The history of Judaism 
is a history of arguing and questioning; 
about how to interpret the Torah and how 
to live one’s life.

My Jewish community also taught me 

to value empathy and support for other 
people. One of my strongest memories of 
Hebrew School growing up is the emphasis 
on tikkun olam, or “repair the world.” To 
be Jewish, I was taught, was to make the 
world better for everyone, not just the 
Jewish people.

This is why I’m glad that by mainstream 

candidates 
denouncing 
AIPAC, 
the 

Democratic Party seems to be moving 
in a new direction — a direction that 
acknowledges 
the 
American 
Jewish 

community is by no means a monolith. 
A direction that can at once take into 

account the significance Israel carries as 
a stronghold of Jewish identity for many 
Jewish Americans while also calling out 
the nation when it enacts policies or takes 
military actions that threaten Palestinian 
human rights.

As of Warren’s exit from the 2020 

presidential race, Sanders remains the 
lone Democratic candidate willing to bring 
these conversations to a national stage. 
He is also a proud Jewish American — 
something he doesn’t hesitate to talk about. 
Seeing Sanders simultaneously defend 
his Jewish heritage and his support for 
Palestinian human rights gives me hope 
for the future of the American Jewish 
community and the Democratic party.

I still think the Democratic party 

has a long way to go. I would love to 
see politicians explicitly calling Israeli 
presence in the West Bank and Gaza 
occupation 
and 
vocally 
opposing 

settlement expansion (a campaign that 
J-Street affiliated students are working on 
across the country). But I’m happy that we 
seem to be making some progress, however 
small it might be.

Wednesday, March 11, 2020 // The Statement
2B

Managing Statement Editor

Magdalena Mihaylova

Deputy Editors

Emily Stillman

Marisa Wright

Associate Editor

Reece Meyhoefer

 Designers

 Liz Bigham

 Kate Glad

 Copy Editors

 Madison Gagne 

 Sadia Jiban

 

Photo Editor 

Keemya Esmael

Editor in Chief

Elizabeth Lawrence

Managing Editor

Erin White

Read more at 
 
MichiganDaily.com

statemen
t

THE MICHIGAN DAILY | FEBRUARY 26, 2020

KEEMYA ESMAEL/DAILY

ILLUSTRATION BY NOAH FINER

The topic no candidate wants to talk about
BY MEGHANN NORDEN-BRIGHT, STATEMENT COLUMNIST

