Nora Lester Murad - The View From My Window in Palestine

How to be a friend to a family at risk of demolition?

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Nurredin Amro has been my friend for more than a decade. For the last eight of those years, he has been fighting to protect his home in Jerusalem from demolition by the Israeli authorities.

The Markaz Review has published my photo essay about Nurredin’s experience. Read it here. Please share it widely.

I’ve started a GoFundMe campaign to help raise funds for Nurredin’s legal and other expenses associated with being at risk of demolition. Support it here. Please share it widely.

Also…

It’s extremely helpful if you would contact your own elected officials (in the US, your congresspeople and senators) expressing your outrage and asking them to investigate and report back to you about Nurredin’s case. If you or they need more information, let me know. You may blind copy me if you’re willing so I can keep track of numbers, and if you get any reply, I hope you’ll let me know at nora@noralestermurad.com.

Sample text for you to pull from is below.

To Whom It May Concern,

I’ve become aware that the home of Nurredin Amro and his family in East Jerusalem has been completely surrounded by a wall, severely impeding entry and exit by Nurredin and his brother, both of whom are blind, and inconveniencing the other eight members of their family. Moreover, this escalation comes after eight years of harassment that started when the Amro home was partially demolished in 2015. During that time, many homes on the land between the vegetable market and the valley below the Mount of Olives have been demolished, the residents forced out of the neighborhood, ostensibly so that the Israeli Nature and Parks Authority can build a park.

As a justice-loving global citizen, I am appalled by Israel’s blatant disregard for human rights and morality in this case, and many others in which Palestinians are being forced out of Jerusalem, despite their demonstrated relationship to the land going back generations. East Jerusalem is occupied and forcible transfer within the framework of occupation is a war crime! I therefore call upon you to cease all harassment against the Amro and other families in the Sawanna area and allow them to live in peace and security with dignity.

Please respond to me with confirmation of what you intend to do in Nurredin’s case. I plan to keep members of my community and my elected representatives informed.

Thank you so much. Your support makes a difference. I promise you.

Book Review: The Waiting Place by Dina Nayeri with photos by Anna Bosch Miralpeix

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I received this large, square, hardback book with an eye-catching cover from i’m your neighbor books as part of Multicultural Children’s Book Day 2023. The title, The Waiting Place, lays in bright, red, capital letters over a photo of a scene that one might drive on the way to somewhere else. There’s a child upside down in an impressive cartwheel, evoking childhood joy, next to the incongruous subtitle: “When home is lost and a new one not yet found.” To be honest, the cover and its implications made me want to look away; it took a while for me to open the book.

The Waiting Place is a 64-page book of stunning photographs with limited words. Marketed for 12-17 year olds, The Waiting Place is a must read for everyone, regardless of age. It is compelling and disturbing, as it should be.

There are 82.4 million forcibly displaced people, author Dina Nayeri notes in the afterword. Some of them will experience part of their childhood in refugee camps, as Dina did. They will grow up, become writers and doctors and teachers and programmers. They are our neighbors. This book shows a slice of the experience that some of them have lived.

Nayeri personifies the refugee camp, the waiting place, and it becomes a predator: “At first the Waiting Place welcomes you. It has heard of the wars, the famines and the bombs in your home; it is very sorry. It has been waiting for you.” Then: “Inside its gated mouth is a dreary, lazy encampment where there is nothing to do but drift. Children wait, let time slip away. They forget things: first their sums, street names, their best books. Then beloved faces, stories. The Waiting Place doesn’t mind. It wants more children and mothers and fathers. It doesn’t want you to visit the nearby lake, to hike the frosted mountain, to learn your new language, or to work or build or learn. It craves your hours, weeks, years.”

But Nayeri relieves the reader by interspersing the chilling text with the most mundane, familiar details of life. Brothers fight. Kids make artwork. Families cook. And the photos are not sad. There is adorable, five-year old Matin from Afghanistan making a monster face. His ten-year old sister, Mobina is shown lost in her thoughts, examining a flower, in a field of weeds. Kosar, a Hazara girl from Iran, jumps on her bed in her striped pajamas. The raw description of the place alongside pictures of children being children left me disquieted. I can’t stop staring at the photos, completely taken in by the spirit in these children’s eyes–the same spirit I see in my own children’s eyes. I suppose that’s the point.

Nayeri doesn’t offer a sugar-coated ending because there isn’t one. We don’t know if these specific children are still at Katsikas camp in Greece, and if not, who are the children who might now be living in the lined-up shipping crates that they called home. From my own life advocating for Palestinian rights, I know the only way to process hard truths and still avoid despair is to take action. Candlewick Press offers a discussion guide and there are engagement ideas at https://imyourneighborbooks.org/waiting-place-engage/. 

But for engagement to be anything other than guilt-driven charity, readers of The Waiting Place will need to understand that while refugee camps may feel like perpetrators to children, it is people who continue to cause displacement through decisions that lead to war and other conditions that force people to run from their homes. And it is well-intentioned people like me who too often remain silent and let those bad leaders get away with it. As I recently posted in relation to Palestine, angst is not an act of solidarity. For me to live up to the expectation of this #MustRead book, I will have to take political action. I will have to do my part to influence my own government to stop creating the conditions that lead to the need for refugee camps that steal childhoods.

Later: I keep pondering this book! I’m thinking about Palestinian kids who are born, live and die in refugee camps just waiting. They go to school, waiting. They get married, waiting. They become grandparents, waiting. What’s it like when generations live without a home, without papers, without hope – waiting?

The Waiting Place

Dina Nayeri with photographs by Anna Bosch Miralpeix

Candlewick Press, 2022

978-1-5362-1362-1

“YA Arab American novels: Bringing Palestine into our fictional world” by Nada Elia

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This brilliant analysis of Palestinian children’s literature and teaching about Palestine includes a review of Ida in the Middle. It originally appeared in Middle East Eye.

One of the courses I regularly teach at my university is “Introduction to Arab American Studies”. Most students take it because it fulfills one of the university’s “diversity” requirements, not because they are invested in the topic. 

We get to read about the strong sense of community that sustains Palestinians as they navigate life in these extremely difficult circumstances

For me, the course is a window into mainstream America’s glaring lack of exposure to any Arab-American issues in the K-12 curriculum. It has been sobering to realise that most Americans can go through their entire school education without reading a single novel, or social studies chapter, about the diverse Arab American communities that are part of the fabric of broader American society. 

For most of my students, there are Arabs – swarthy foreigners living in inhospitable countries half a world away – but no Arab Americans; the doctors, teachers, cab drivers, grocery store owners and neighbours who may live next door to them. 

They have even less awareness of the effects of US foreign policy in the Middle East and the experiences and stories this policy shapes among immigrants from these communities.

What it means to belong

A new young adult novel, Ida in the Middle, by Nora Lester Murad, explores the deeply unsettling feeling that members of these communities’ experience, as they are told in both subtle and overt ways that they do not belong in the United States, even when it is the only country they have ever known.

In this debut novel for Murad, Ida, a bashful Palestinian American teenager, is dreading the final class project: discussing her “passion” with the rest of the class. 

Her anxiety skyrockets when the school principal informs her that she will be representing her school in this eighth-grade capstone for the entire region.

She is terrified at the thought that someone in the audience will shout out “terrorist” as she ascends to the stage, just as someone had scribbled that insult on her school desk. Home alone one afternoon, as she worries yet again about that presentation, she reaches for her comfort food, green olives sent by her aunt all the way from Palestine. 

Olives, as every Palestinian knows, are not just a savoury snack; they encapsulate our culture in each dense nugget. When they are cured by a favourite aunt, they can have magic powers. As she eats the olives, Ida is transported to her parents’ village, Busala, just outside Jerusalem, where she immediately feels at home. 

In this alternate reality, her parents have never left Palestine, and she has grown up with feelings of belonging amid kids who look like her, speak Arabic, and can pronounce her name correctly: ‘Aida, with an ‘ayn.

But life in Busala is also unpredictable, scary, and dangerous because of Israel’s occupation. Here, Murad skilfully weaves the narrative between Ida’s fantasy and the all-too-real events of life under occupation, as Ida has to brave Israeli military raids, curfews, and home demolitions. 

We get to read about the strong sense of community that sustains Palestinians as they navigate life in these extremely difficult circumstances. We witness the immense courage of Palestinian children – including Ida herself – as they dodge the occupation forces; and we hear discussions about survival and resistance, including the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions (BDS) movement. 

There are some exhilarating moments, such as when Ida carries a terrified three-year-old boy to safety, telling him his name, Faris, means “knight,” and that he is their leader, while he explains that her name means “Returning,” and he knows she will not leave him behind, as she scouts their whereabouts for a safe path home. 

And there are heartbreaking moments, as when Ida watches Israeli bulldozers demolish her friend Layla’s family home. This experience transforms Ida and, after having eaten more green olives, she is transported back to Boston, where she gives an impassioned presentation about the hardships that Palestinians endure under Israel’s settler colonialism. 

A resource for educators

As I put down the novel, I went over to the website that accompanies it, and where Murad, a longtime educator, has compiled a wealth of useful teaching resources. Murad addresses questions that other educators may have as they teach a novel about Palestine, linking to dozens of websites categorised by who compiled them (e.g. librarians, the Institute for Palestine Studies, the Middle East Children’s Alliance, and many more). 

There are lesson plans, Palestine-centric resources, resources about the Middle East and Muslim issues, and more valuable information than any book review can do justice to, all superbly organised and easy to navigate. 

In his endorsement of the book, publisher Michel Moushabeck wrote: “I have been waiting for this YA novel to be written since I founded Interlink 35 years ago.”

As for me, I can enthusiastically say this is the resource website I’ve been waiting for. But please don’t take my word for it, explore it for yourselves. Whatever your level of knowledge about Palestine, there will be something for you there. 

A seasoned activist, Murad knows there will be pushback against her novel. Ida in the Middle reminded me of Ann Laurel Carter’s The Shepherd’s Granddaughter about a young girl whose family home near Hebron is being threatened by encroaching Jewish settlements. The book won eight awards, including the Canadian Library Association Book of the Year Award for Children, and the Society of School Librarians International Best Book Award. 

But the Zionist advocacy group B’nai B’rith objected to what it described as its “anti-Israel propaganda”, and the novel has not been included in any Canadian school curriculum. 

Will Ida in the Middle suffer a similar fate because it mentions Israel’s demolitions of Palestinian homes – an absolute reality, yet one of Israel’s many crimes that are apparently taboo in American discourse? 

Pushing back

Murad was a speaker on the Boston Book Festival panel “Pushing Back Against the Pushback: Uplifting Marginalised Books for Young People in an Age of Censorship”, where she addressed the importance of assigning such novels in literature or social studies classes across the US, a topic she also discusses on the book’s website. 

On the FAQ page, the author addresses her identity as someone who was not born Palestinian. One of the questions she answers is: “You’re not Palestinian, shouldn’t people read books written by Palestinians?”

Her answer is an unequivocal “Yes”, and she lists some of the Palestinian authors she recommends: for children, Randa Abdel-Fattah, Ibtisam Barakat, Ahlam Bsharat, Susan Muaddi Darraj, Sonia Nimr, Naomi Shihab Nye, and Wafa Shami, among others.

For adults, some prominent fiction and non-fiction writers available in English are Susan Abulhawa, Hala Alayan, Ghassan Kanafani, Sahar Khalifeh, Edward Said, Adania Shibli, among many, many others. 

Educators have no excuse not to assign the wonderful books available to them about young Arab Americans
 

Murad herself is married to a Palestinian, lived in Palestine for 14 years, and mothered three Palestinian girls. Her sensitive portrayal of Ida is certainly that of a loving parent, steeped in Palestinian culture not as a tourist, but as an engaged member of a Palestinian family. 

Given her background, it is perhaps not a coincidence that the protagonist in Murad’s novel, like Susan Muaddi Darraj’s fabulous series, Farah Rocks, and The Shepherd’s Granddaughter, is a young girl, rather than a boy. 

Certainly, girls need all the empowerment they can get in our exceedingly misogynist, patriarchal world, and these books offer that needed boost. However, my wish is for the next YA novel about a Palestinian American child to feature a boy, even as I fully appreciate the present offerings, and would welcome more.

But a lack of narratives around young boys being sensitive, caring, or protective of their friends and siblings could inadvertently risk perpetuating the myth that Palestinian girls are redeemable, while Palestinian boys are always dangerous. 

For now, however, educators have no excuse not to assign the wonderful books available to them about young Arab Americans. And with the holidays fast approaching, everyone can push back against censorship by gifting precisely those novels that artfully inject our cultural and political experiences into the broader American landscape. 

Nada Elia teaches in the American Cultural Studies Programme at Western Washington University, and is currently completing a book on Palestinian diaspora activism.

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Censorship of Palestinians is So Normal, Even Antiracists Don’t See It

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This guest post exploring censorship of Palestinian children’s books was first published on Betsy Bird’s blog on School Library Journal.

www.IdaInTheMiddle.com

I started researching censorship of Palestinian children’s books out of concern that my forthcoming young adult novel, Ida in the Middle, could be attacked or banned because the protagonist is a Palestinian-American. Ida is an 8th grader who faces ridicule and bullying at school and finds her strength by connecting with the struggle for self-determination happening in Palestine. Ida’s experiences in her Massachusetts school are loosely based on my youngest daughter’s junior year about which she says, “I didn’t feel like they kicked me out because they had never included me in the first place.” I later spoke with many Palestinian kids with shocking stories of racism, exclusion and invisibility in US schools all of whom thought they were the only one – because no one talks about anti-Palestinian racism.

Palestinians aren’t on the radar of most advocates for marginalized books

What I’m finding in my research about censorship of Palestinians is concerning. Although advocates of intellectual freedom, freedom to teach and the right to learn stand up (appropriately so!) for books about Black, brown and queer communities, the intense, multilayered censorship of Palestinians goes virtually unchallenged – and, in fact, unnoticed. Simply put, Palestinians and their literature are invisible to organizations like the American Library Association, National Coalition Against Censorship, and the National Council of Teachers of English, among others. A good example of this is PEN America’s oft-cited report, America’s Censored Classrooms, which doesn’t even mention Palestinians, although there is a barrage of legislation targeting them, and overwhelming documentation of censorship of Palestinians.

For example, earlier this month, Independent Jewish Voices (IJV) released a detailed, 97-page study of harassment, intimidation and repression against Palestinians in education that includes interference in hiring, classroom surveillance, restrictions on campus groups, demands for the censure or dismissal of pro-Palestinian faculty and students, and obstruction of pro-Palestinian events. They found that the constant and increasing harassment creates a “chilly” environment which threatens academic freedom, muzzles scholarly production, obstructs academic careers, encourages mendacious and malicious discourse, and stifles legitimate protest. More than that, they paint a picture of life for many Palestinian teachers and students that is painful and unfair.

The IJV report focuses on Canadian higher education.  Here at home, Palestine Legal, a Chicago-based nonprofit co-published a study with the Center for Constitutional Rights in 2015 called, “The Palestine Exception to Free Speech” showing the same tactics are used in the United States. In nearly 100 pages and with accompanying videos, they explore a range of silencing tactics that are pervasive across US higher education institutions, including monitoring and surveillance, falsely equating criticism of Israel with antisemitism, unfounded accusations of support for terrorism, official denunciations, bureaucratic barriers, administrative sanctions, cancellations and alterations of academic and cultural events, threats to academic freedom, lawsuits and legal threats, and more. In the US, as in Canada, simply being Palestinian seems a provocation, which is hard enough for adults, but imagine being a Palestinian student facing this type of racism in school?

Information about attacks on Palestinians in education is anecdotal but abundant

Although no one seems to be systematically tracking the impact of censorship of Palestinians in K-12 education in the US, there is abundant evidence of harassment aiming to censor Palestinian and pro-Palestinian voices. For example, the Liberated Ethnic Studies Model Curriculum Consortium (LESMCC) has been slapped with a lawsuit because of their inclusion of Palestinians in the curriculum, and teachers not limited to the LESMCC teachers are experiencing administrative harassment in the form of tens if not hundreds of public records requests, not to mention threats to individuals and institutions.

In a separate incident, Palestinian-American teacher, Natalie Abulhawa, was fired from a private, all-girls school called Agnes Irwin for social media posts that were nearly a decade old and were found on a known Islamophobic site, according to the Council on American Islamic Relations. 

Attacks on Palestinian books also happen. In a well-known case, a NY bookstore was attacked  for their support of the picture book P is for Palestine (Bashi Goldbarg, self-published), and a Hannukah reading of the book organized by anti-zionist Jews was attacked by right-wing Israel supporters. 

More recently, Kayla Hoskinson, a librarian in Philadelphia was disciplined for an antiracist post that mentioned Rifk Ebeid’s picture book, Baba, What Does My Name Mean? (self-published) and references to Ebeid’s book and the works of Palestinian poet laureate Naomi Shihab Nye were censored.

Another recent library censorship case occurred in San Francisco over ideas about Zionism and racism. San Francisco Public Library canceled an art exhibit and public event when organizers refused to remove text that ACLU lawyers said was protected by the First Amendment. The library’s explanatory statement said: “… the Library retains the right to determine the suitability of any proposed exhibition to be included in the Library’s exhibition program. The Library also reserves the right to reject any part of an exhibition or to change the manner of display.” But if a library has the right to reject any part of an exhibition, they also have the right to include it, despite pressure from politically-motivated interest groups.

Librarian Kayla Hoskinson talks about the chilling effect of this kind of censorship. 

“Attacks against librarians and teachers for including Palestine in their curriculum are definitely noticed by our colleagues. Some are unafraid to move forward with me to plan and host programs about Palestine. More colleagues, though, see what happened to me and don’t want the trouble. Even if they agree, they know they will not be supported against attacks. ALA really needs to re-develop policies and guidelines about neutrality in the field.”

Very few children’s books about Palestine are being published

But when it comes to traditional bans–the listing of books that are forbidden in schools and libraries–attacks on Palestinian books seem more opportunistic and ad hoc rather than systematic and ambitious like the ones directed against Black, brown and queer books.

This may be because there are so few books about Palestine. For example, the Diverse Book Finder studied over 2000 picture books published since 2002 and found only 3% fell into the broad Middle Eastern category. How few of those are Palestinian?

In a study I’m currently doing with several Palestinian teachers to produce a framework that educators and librarians can use to evaluate books involving Palestine, we found that a full 40% of our sample of books about Palestine authored by Palestinians were self published, indicating that censorship is happening before publication. This means that fantastic children’s books like Tala Fahmawi’s self-published Salim’s Soccer Ball get only limited visibility and lack the library-attractive credibility that comes along with being traditionally published.

Sadly, the problem is not merely one of oversight or negligence. In a webinar called “Translating Palestine,” translator Sawad Hussain said she had been told outright by some editors that they are afraid to work with Palestinian authors lest they be seen as too political or publishing “too many Palestinian authors.” Translator Marcia Lynx Qualey said that even books accepted for publication are often “bulletproofed,” which she described as scrubbed of content Palestine’s opponents would claim is offensive.  

Palestine is a taboo topic due to fear and politicization

My publisher, Interlink Books, founded by Palestinian-American Michel Moushabeck has provided a much-needed pathway for Palestinian books and books about Palestine to reach US readers, yet he too has faced challenges. Most recently, Malak Mattar’s Sitti’s Bird: A Gaza Story (2022) has been unable to get a single mention or review in trade publications and mainstream media, unlike all the other picture books he’s published. Moushabeck says, “It’s because it’s a Palestinian story of trauma. We knew this would happen because the same thing happens to all our titles written by Palestinians. Some editors do not assign books by Palestinians for review–especially ones they deem controversial or think can get them into trouble.”

The consequences of the censorship of Palestinian children’s books goes far beyond the impact on Palestinian authors and Palestinian children. As the ALA’s Unite Against Book Bans campaign says, without books:

“Students cannot access critical information to help them understand themselves and the world around them. Parents lose the opportunity to engage in teachable moments with their kids. And communities lose the opportunity to learn and build mutual understanding.”

American Library Association

Applying principles of intellectual freedom, freedom to teach and the right to learn to Palestinian topics

For the ALA and other librarians and educators who advocate for intellectual freedom, freedom to teach and the right to learn, Palestine should be with others at the frontline of the struggle. Some even argue that Palestine is the litmus test of antiracists’ commitment to rights for all. For this reason, I hope organizations like the American Library Association, the National Coalition Against Censorship, PEN America, the NCTE and others who librarians and educators look to for leadership will become proactive in rejecting the violent silencing and criminalization of Palestinian voices. I hope they will step forward to demand intellectual freedom, the freedom to teach and the right to learn not only for some, but for those who most need to be uplifted in order to be heard, including Palestinians.

Narratives of Belonging: A Convo at the Build Palestine Summit 2022 among Nora Lester Murad, Aline Batarseh and Besan Abu-Joudeh

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This 30-minutes conversation is a warm exchange about the complexities of living in relation to Palestine for Palestinians who live in the diaspora and non-Palestinians who have joined the community (like me!). Aline Batarshe, Executive Director of Visualizing Palestine, Besan Abu-Joudeh, Founder of Build Palestine, and I speak personally about the challenges and joys of staying being part of the Palestinian struggle for visibility, dignity and rights in the United States.

Interview with Ahed Tamimi, an Icon of the Palestinian Resistance

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This review of They Called Me a Lioness and interview with Palestinian heroine Ahed Tamimi and Dena Takruri was first published by The Markaz Review.

Ahed Tamimi, an icon of Palestinian resistance is presently studying law at Birzeit University. She travels and speaks to activists and supporters around the world, always sharing the Palestinian demand for liberation.

They Called Me a Lioness: A Palestinian Girl’s Fight for Freedom; memoir/biography by Ahed Tamimi and Dena Takruri; Penguin Random House 2022; ISBN 9780593134580

By Nora Lester Murad

Ahed Tamimi and Dena Takruri’s book, They Called Me a Lioness: A Palestinian Girl’s Fight for Freedom (One World, 2022) quotes an Israeli interrogator trying to coerce information from stoic, 16-year-old Ahed: “Who? Is your father behind you? Or is it your mother who’s behind you?” “Who? Who is behind you?”

In 2017, Ahed was charged with assaulting an Israeli soldier, though family members point out that she wasn’t arrested until the video went viral, so she was most likely targeted because she humiliated the Israeli government.

Once the video of Ahed slapping and kicking a soldier went viral, two previous videos of her standing up to soldiers in her West Bank village of Nabi Saleh got new circulation, including one of 11-year-old Ahed threatening soldiers after her big brother was arrested and one of 14-year-old Ahed biting a soldier who attacked her little brother.

Ahed had become a heroine, not only in Palestine, but around the world.

When I talk to Ahed, she deflects all questions about herself, always using the pronoun “we,” referring to the collective Palestinian people.

“A reluctant heroine,” Dena Takruri corrects me when we talk about her experience co-authoring the book. “It was never about her. It was about the message.”

They Called Me a Lioness is published by Penguin Random House.

It’s true. When I talk to Ahed, she deflects all questions about herself, always using the pronoun “we,” referring to the collective Palestinian people. (We spoke in Arabic, with me apologizing several times. I recorded our interview and my husband, who is Palestinian, translated it with me.)

“‘Hero’ is a big word,” Ahed says, “and it comes with lots of responsibility. You can’t just say it casually. It’s a word that can change your life. But all of us in Palestine are heroes. We all live under the same occupation, the same injustice, and we all resist. Every single one of us is a hero inside, and that hero comes out when the time is right.”

Ahed’s videotaped interrogation shows the Israelis finally realized the threat posed by the heroine Ahed Tamimi. They were no longer laughing the way they did when she fake punched soldiers at age 11.

Though only 16 at the time, she was interrogated without the presence of her parents, lawyer, or even a female soldier. They inappropriately commented on her appearance and threatened her family and friends, but Ahed refused to talk.

“Who? Is your father behind you? Or is it your mother who’s behind you?” “Who? Who is behind you?”

The interrogators could not have known the significance of their question.

If the Israelis were to read Ahed and Dena’s book, they would understand that behind the lioness, Ahed Tamimi, stands an entire pride.

“Ahed mentions many girls and women in the book, and she credits all of them for their resistance and for enabling hers,” Dena continues.

I ask Ahed who is behind her, and her voice gets even stronger.

“Behind me? Behind me is the natural response to occupation — to reject it. Behind me are my mother and father who taught me to resist the occupier, and my grandmother who instead of telling me fairy tales about Layla and the wolf told me stories about how to resist the occupation. Behind me are the people all around me, the people I love, who I can lose in any minute. Behind me is an entire generation that I don’t want to live through the same experience that I did.”

Ahed is proud of her pride.

Nariman, Ahed’s mother, has been arrested more than six times and has held the family together during her husband’s more than nine arrests. Nariman was arrested and served eight months along with Ahed for incitement, since she filmed and shared the video of Ahed that went viral.

“If I hadn’t seen my mother demonstrate, get arrested, and be wounded, maybe I wouldn’t have done what I did and maybe my brothers and I wouldn’t be the way we are. Seeing my parents confront the soldiers helped us to believe that like them, we can defend our land and our country,” Ahed says.

Then she quickly adds: “But all Palestinian mothers are like mine, and all Palestinians are like us. Of course, there are some people who are controlled by fear. But most people are active and do things to resist the occupation, and this is not limited to our village, Nabi Saleh. Nabi Saleh just gets more media attention. But really, the same thing that is happening in Nabi Saleh is happening all over Palestine.”

Marah, Ahed’s best friend and cousin, was beside her throughout her growth. In the book, Ahed described how Marah was there at age six when the two girls joined a large group of kids running away from Israeli soldiers to Marah’s house where they packed themselves in a closet trembling in fear, only to tumble out onto a soldier’s combat boots when the house was searched. She was still there a decade later, the day Ahed  emerged from her eight months in jail to a heroine’s welcome.

Janna Jihad, Ahed’s younger cousin, started reporting from Nabi Saleh and Palestinian cities across the West Bank when she was just seven years old. She has amassed hundreds of thousands of supporters across various social media channels. In the book, Ahed says, “The sight of an innocent little Palestinian girl reporting on the suffering of other children and adults under occupation moved people. It compelled them to open their eyes to the countless injustices perpetrated by Israel.”

Ahed credits Palestinian activist, academic and elected representative Khalida Jarrar, who taught classes to all the young Palestinian girls in prison, for her successful graduation from high school. More importantly, she credits Khalida for helping her develop a larger vision and strategy for Palestinian society. In the book, Ahed says:

We must ensure that when we finally do achieve liberation [from Israel], we’re not left with a society that’s full of corruption and inequity. It’s imperative that we fight for women’s rights, to ensure that we have full equality between women and men. We need to get rid of traditional mentalities that judge girls and women through the lens of shame. We also need to fight for better employment opportunities for our youth and find ways to get them involved in the political process. Why should those holding political office be predominantly old men? They’ve consistently proven themselves incapable and irrelevant.

Ahed’s aunt, Manal, an early and consistent leader in Nabi Saleh’s popular resistance, has been arrested multiple times, shot, beaten and strip-searched, yet she continues to speak out about feminist resistance.

Even Ahed’s grandmother, Tata Farha (to whom the book is dedicated), features prominently in her political development. In the book Ahed says:

Tata Farha’s bedtime tales were all real-life stories that taught us the history of our family, of the village, and of Palestine. Many reflected the hell and heartbreak she and our people had lived through. All of her stories were educational. They not only shaped my imagination, but also revealed to me the generational trauma that’s embedded in our DNA.

There was no way I could get Ahed to speak about herself or acknowledge anything significant about herself, her family or her village. Even when I asked about the challenges of being labeled a hero, she gave others credit, uplifting those around her.

“Maybe in other parts of the world, people get upset and they go to a psychologist. For me, I don’t go to a psychologist, I go back to the people who understand me because they are living the same experience and they have seen it and already know all the details. They stand by me and help me more than anyone else. I get my strength from them. Wherever I go, I find them next to me.”

After all she’s been through, she still has hope. Ahed lifts everyone’s spirits. —Dena Takruri

Even if Ahed won’t admit it, there is something particularly inspirational about her. I ask Dena, who has spent years following Ahed and countless hours co-writing the book with her, to explain what it is.

“As a journalist, I’ve interviewed many people, and it’s rare that I feel electrified. It’s her poise, conviction, power and strength. After all she’s been through, she still has hope. Ahed lifts everyone’s spirits.” Dena Takruri, a prominent journalist and proud Palestinian in her own right, has also become part of Ahed’s pride, standing with her to protect the group and its territory. The book they’ve co-written is a kind of roar, one that the rest of us creatures in the forest would be smart to heed.

Palestinian Erasure Starts in Preschool—With Sesame Street’s Endorsement

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This article about how children’s literature represents Palestine and Palestinians was first published by Fairness and Accuracy in Reporting.

Many children in the United States will never meet a Palestinian in person, and if they do, they may need to overcome the negative images and stereotypes that pervade popular culture: terrorist, religious extremist, misogynist, etc. For this reason, books are a critical if underused opportunity for kids to learn about the people of Palestine.

Palestinians are important because they are human beings, and also because they play a  central role in US foreign policy in the Middle East, and are a major focus of US financial and military resources. If US kids are to grow up to be responsible global citizens, they must understand Palestinian experiences and perspectives, among others.

Are US kids getting good insight about Palestinians from books? My ongoing research project examining kids’ books involving Palestine has already yielded some interesting findings: Even the youngest children are subjected to narratives that erase Palestinians.

Erasure through appropriation

Rah! Rah! Mujadara!, for example, is a 12-page board book for ages 1–4 that has an attractive tagline: “Everybody likes hummus, but that’s just one of the great variety of foods found in Israel among its diverse cultures.”

There’s a subtlety in that tagline that may be lost on some. While diversity is acknowledged, it is represented only within the Israeli sphere, without its own history and separate identity.

This is a political position that  jibes with Israel’s intentional deployment of the term “Israeli Arabs” to refer to Palestinians with Israeli citizenship, whom Israel wants to incorporate as an Israeli minority, fragmenting them from the larger Palestinian community and from their national identity.

Since Palestinians represent 20% of the citizens of Israel and about 50% of the people who live under Israeli control, readers should expect to see them included. And it is possible that the girl on the top left of the cover is meant to be a Muslim Arab, despite the inauthentic way her headscarf allows her bangs to show.

Newbies to the the Israeli/Palestinian narrative war may also not realize that food is an active battleground. Palestinians consider Israel’s claiming of hummus and falafel, among other foods, to be cultural appropriation.

Palestinians, therefore, are likely to consider both the people and the food appropriated  when the same girl is featured behind the text:

Blow, slow.

Taste. Whoa!

Brown fa-LA-fel,

big green mouthful!

Respectful Jewish and Jewish Israeli chefs acknowledge this violence, and counter it by giving credit where credit is due. Since the state of Israel is not even 75 years old, any food with a longer pedigree must have been originated by someone else. But while Kar-Ben Publishing is surely aware of this contention, they either choose to ignore it or intentionally intend to steer readers towards the Israeli narrative—by hiding the Palestinian one.

Cultural appropriation is taken to a new level in Israel ABCs: A Book About the People and Places of Israel (Holly Schroeder, Picture Window Books, 2004).

On page 5, titled “B is for Bedouin,” the text reads: “Bedouins are Arab people who come from Israel’s deserts.” In fact, Bedouins lived on and cultivated land that is now in the State of

Israel for hundreds of years prior to the establishment of the state, and have been systematically discriminated against since. The book’s use of the words “Israel’s deserts” imply that the land belonged to Israel before Arab Bedouins arrived. This is an easy-to-miss example of text that implies that not only does the land belong to Israel, but so do the indigenous Bedouins.

Erasure through deception

Unfortunately, the erasure of Palestinian reality continues in books for older children. I looked at introductory books about Israel for ages 7–11 years, including All Around the World Israel (Kristine Spanier, Jump!, 2019) and Travel to Israel (Matt Doeden, Lerner Publishing, 2022).

These books share a shocking but easily overlooked flaw: Their covers feature a photo of East Jerusalem alongside the title “Israel.” East Jerusalem is the Palestinian side of the city, previously administered by

Jordan and illegally annexed by Israel following its occupation in the 1967 War. Again, the uninitiated may not realize the significance of linking the state of Israel to East Jerusalem in the minds of readers, and might even think it positive that Israel is making Palestinian areas visible.

However, Israel’s widely condemned annexation of East Jerusalem is illegal under international law. In 1980, Israel declared the “unified” Jerusalem as the capital of Israel, but until Donald Trump moved the US embassy to Jerusalem, not a single country in the world followed suit.

Moreover, Israel has used every possible administrative and military tool available to make East Jerusalem unlivable for Palestinians, in an effort to get them to leave so their land can be repurposed for Jewish use. These cover photos not only fail to acknowledge the reality of life for Palestinian Jerusalemites, they deceptively cover it up.

Putting East Jerusalem on the cover of books about Israel jibes with Israel’s narrative that Jerusalem belongs to Israel, and not to Palestine or the Palestinians, and helps preempt fair and open negotiations

about the final status of Jerusalem as promised in the 1993 Oslo Accords.

Erasure through both-sidesism

Welcome to Israel With Sesame Street (Christy Peterson, Lerner Publishing, 2021) also has a problematic cover, but, consistent with the rest of the book, it is a type of distortion/erasure that can be called “both-sidesism.” The cover is split, with half showing Palestinian East Jerusalem (though a less iconic photo than the Dome of the Rock) and the other half showing an Israeli beach.

Inside, the book continues with this “both sides” approach, starting by teaching children how to say hello in both Hebrew and Arabic (pages 4–5).  This “both sides” approach makes a nice visual while hiding Israel’s disrespect for Arabic and Arabic speakers, which is clear in the fact that Arabic had been an official language of Israel until it was officially downgraded in the 2018 Jewish Nation State Law.

Presenting “both sides” is a device used to appear neutral, which conjures a sense of objectivity and truth. It is also a way to stake a claim to antiracism and respect. For example, page 11 says that Jerusalem is “special to people of many religions,” over a  photo of Palestinian school girls, some wearing the Muslim hijab.

But presenting Palestinians only as linguistic and religious minorities of Israel, and not as a national group in and of itself, is an Israeli narrative tactic that dehumanizes  Palestinians and undermines readers’ ability to understand Israel. While appearing respectful of diversity, the text and photo cleverly omit that Israel is an explicitly, self-declared Jewish state, that enshrines Jewish supremacy over non-Jews (and the corresponding inequality of Palestinians) by saying, in law, that only Jews have the right to self-determination.

Palestine literally erased

Where in the world is Palestine? Nowhere, according to Sesame Street‘s map.

While maps can be controversial when presenting Israel and Palestine, there is one fact that is not controversial: The West Bank and Gaza Strip are not part of Israel. The population of the West Bank and Gaza Strip are not citizens of Israel, and the idea of Israeli annexation of the West Bank has been rejected internationally, including by United Nations officials. Despite this, page 6 of Welcome to Israel With Sesame

Street incorrectly displays a map of Israel (“and Surrounding Area”) including the West Bank and Gaza Strip in the same shade of yellow. The outlines of the occupied Palestinian territory are visible but not labeled. (Notably, the Israeli-occupied Golan Heights is shown as part of Syria.)

While Welcome to Israel With Sesame Street is not the worst of the books I reviewed, it stands out to me because of the Sesame Street branding. Librarians tell me they rely more on reviews than branding when purchasing or recommending books, but as a mom myself, I think parents—and kids—do pay attention to the stamp of credibility that the Sesame Street imprimatur gives to educational materials. Welcome to Israel With Sesame Street illustrates how branding can help to obfuscate rather than illuminate the information we need as global citizens to be constructive problem-solvers.

The Sesame Street brand, and the nonprofit Sesame Workshop that owns it, has previously been criticized for compromises they’ve made in order to address funding shortfalls and stay in business in an increasingly difficult market. Supporters argue that licensing has long been a part of their funding model, and doesn’t necessarily contradict the educational mission that Sesame Workshop has committed to.

Welcome to Israel With Sesame Street, however, is not harmless. It uses subtle messages to contribute to erasure and distortion of Palestinians, which should cause concern among people who care about the educational reputation of the brand. Unfortunately, Sesame Workshop failed to respond to my several inquiries about this book.

Incorporating Palestinian voices

US children will be lucky if they see a book or two mentioning Palestinians in their entire  educational careers—so the books they read should be good! There are a few books that offer some age-appropriate information about Palestinians, like ones referenced in Rethinking Schools and listed by the National Council for the Social Studies. These books contribute to an important educational objective—to help students of all ages understand that the world is diverse, that different groups have different experiences, that conflicts and wars hurt people, and that US taxpayers play a role in that. Publishers can do better by incorporating Palestinian voices into their commitments to center diverse voices and by taking a stand to protect and promote Palestinian children’s book writers.

Did Public TV Doc Promote Peaceful Coexistence—or the UAE? 

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This article explores deception in this PBS-hosted documentary promoting UAE-Israel relations at the expense of Palestinians. It was first published by Fairness and Accuracy in Reporting.

Screenshot of title slide from documentary "Amen-Amen-Amen" (in Hebrew, English and Arabic
From film’s website

WNET, the PBS station distributing the 2021 documentary feature Amen-Amen-Amen: A Story of Our Times, called it

the story of the first Jewish community formed in a Muslim country in centuries (in Dubai), and a historic gift of a Torah scroll dedicated to the memory of an Arab-Muslim ruler, the late Sheikh Zayed, the founding father of the United Arab Emirates.

The Boston Globe featured Amen-Amen-Amen in its documentary events program, GlobeDocs.  The Globe hosted filmmaker Tom Gallagher of Religion Media Company in conversation with Loren King on March 14.

The film has an attractive premise—that the United Arab Emirates is a champion of religious tolerance, exemplified by the establishment of a Jewish community in Dubai. This is presented as so historically significant (presumably because the Arab Muslim world is otherwise hostile to Jews) that the Jewish community decided to gift a Torah scroll in honor of Sheikh Zayed, the deceased founding father, to his son Sheikh Mohamed bin Zayed Al Nahyan, crown prince of Abu Dhabi and deputy supreme commander of the UAE armed forces.

Despite the stamp of credibility provided by the Boston Globe and PBS, and the film’s ten international documentary awards, anyone familiar with current Israel/UAE relations will wonder how a film with such obvious political interests is seen as a documentary rather than pure propaganda.

Dubious champion of tolerance

“The United Arab Emirates is an oasis of tolerance,” announces a voiceover at the beginning of the film. Amen-Amen-Amen features the February 2019 visit by Pope Francis to the UAE for the much publicized Year of Tolerance, which attracted a diverse crowd of 180,000 people. This visit, and a signed document on human fraternity, are further presented as evidence of the UAE as a champion of religious tolerance.

The crown prince is described on camera as “a humble man” with “exquisite” communication. One describes meeting him as “a spiritual experience.”

The film also notes that the UAE is “very diverse,” as 90% of people in the UAE are not Emirati, and uses this fact to conclude that ““there is no way that the UAE cannot be inclusive.” It’s such a glowing portrait of the country that viewers might be surprised to know that the conservative nonprofit Freedom House rates it “not free,” ranking it below countries like Egypt, Russia and Qatar in terms of political rights and civil liberties.

Human Rights Watch: “Many activists and dissidents…remain detained simply for exercising their rights to free expression and association.”

The country’s diversity springs not from a commitment to tolerance but from the UAE’s dependence on imported workers. Human Rights Watch calls the “tolerance narrative” of the UAE a sham, and concludes:

United Arab Emirates authorities continue to invest in a “soft power” strategy aimed at painting the country as progressive, tolerant and rights-respecting. Many activists and dissidents, some of whom have completed their sentences, remain detained simply for exercising their rights to free expression and association. Prisons across the UAE hold detainees in dismal and unhygienic conditions, where overcrowding and lack of adequate medical care are widespread. The UAE continues to block representatives of international human rights organizations and UN experts from independently conducting in-country research and visiting prisons and detention facilities.

In 2020, Amnesty International and dozens of other human rights organizations issued an open letter (2/24/20) calling the UAE “a country that does not tolerate dissenting voices” and arguing that “the UAE government devotes more effort to concealing its human rights abuses than to addressing them and invests heavily in the funding and sponsorship of institutions, events and initiatives that are aimed at projecting a favorable image to the outside world.”

A 2020 report by the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace explored whether, despite some reforms, the UAE migrant policy is akin to human trafficking.

Of course, Amen-Amen-Amen doesn’t mention any of these critiques that contradict the image it wishes to portray. In fact, in the Boston Globe–sponsored discussion of the film, filmmaker Tom Gallagher squirmed out of an audience question about human rights violations in the UAE by saying the film sticks strictly to the issue of religious pluralism and intentionally stayed away from geopolitical analysis.

Hidden political motivation

Trita Parsi (Responsible Statecraft, 9/16/21): “The US is helping cement conflict under the guise of forging reconciliation between three countries that never have been at war.”

But the relationship between the UAE and its Jewish residents can’t be fully understood without geopolitical context—including the country’s changing relationship with Israel.  The Abraham Accords, a series of US-sponsored treaties first signed in September 2020, normalized diplomatic relations between Israel, the UAE, Bahrain, Morocco and Sudan, formalizing long-term relationships that were previously covert. The bedrock of the Abraham Accords is a military alliance against Iran, though the UAE also benefits from direct access to US weapons, and there are huge opportunities for profit from new regional trade. Also important, the Abraham Accords officially break what was at least rhetorical opposition by Arab countries to Israeli violations of Palestinian rights, and expand the bloc of countries in alliance with Israel’s governing right wing.

The Abraham Accords have been and will continue to be extremely profitable for Israel and the UAE, both financially and militarily. At least $11 billion has been made available by the UAE for investment in Israel. The Rand Corporation, proponents of the Accords, concluded its 2021 report:

If these new relations evolve into deeper economic integration, we estimate that the economic benefits for Israel’s partners in this endeavor could be particularly significant, creating approximately 150,000 new jobs for just the four current signatories. This number could grow to more than 4 million new jobs, and more than $1 trillion in new economic activity over a decade, if the accords grow to include 11 nations (including Israel), as some have speculated may be possible.

Though it might not be immediately obvious, enhanced arms sales to the UAE, valued in the tens of billions, are tied up with, not contradictory to, the US commitment to Israel’s military superiority. In other words, both the US and Israel benefit from the increased militarization of Israel’s allies, especially given their shared interest in opposing Iran. And it is in the interest of the UAE, Israel and the US to rewrite the narrative they spun about terrorist Arabs into a good Arab/bad Arab story, with the UAE being “good guys” who will get political props for making nice with Israel.

Much is made in the film and its marketing materials about the Jewish community in Dubai being the “first Jewish community formed in an Arab-Muslim country in centuries,” implying that Muslim countries have not been friendly to Jews until now. But the film also goes into detail (13:00–15:00) about a time when there was “relative harmony, warm social relationships, neighborhood relationships, business relationships, intellectual exchanges” between Jews and Muslims over centuries, into the twentieth century. So which is it?

It’s true that Jews have been an integral part of Arab Muslim communities for many hundreds of years, and faced much less discrimination than in Christian Europe. The main rupture that occurred—which is conspicuously not mentioned in the film—was not a religious rupture between Arab Muslims and Jews, but a political rupture between Arab countries and the state of Israel over the position that Palestinians have rights, and should not be exiled, occupied and colonized.

Presenting the warming relationship between the UAE and its Jewish population without explaining any of the political context suggests that the more hostile relationship between the UAE and Israel that preceded it was simply due to antisemitism, rather than a political stance against Israeli colonization and occupation of Palestinian land.

In this overarching context, the release of a film that offers an entirely uncritical and glowing portrait of the UAE ought to make PBS take a closer look at the film’s funding.

Questionable funding 

FCC guidelines require broadcasters to “fully and fairly disclose the true identity” of all broadcast program funders,” including original production funders.

Amen-Amen-Amen‘s funders, however, are difficult to fully discern. It is the sole project of Religion Media Company (RMC), which appears to be essentially a one-man outfit run by Tom Gallagher. Gallagher is the former head of Religion News Service and has no apparent training or previous experience as a filmmaker. Although RMC was registered as a nonprofit public charity in 2021, there are no publicly available financial documents showing its sources of income, nor does it have a website listing its board of directors.

According to the film’s website, Gallagher “conceived of the documentary” in 2018 and founded RMC in January 2020—after the events shown in the film—to produce “original media projects that tell powerful stories of our common search for meaning, wherever those stories are found.”

Sarah Jones (New Republic, 4/27/18): The removal of published RNS columns under Tom Gallagher was seen as “an example of censorious overreach by an inexperienced publisher” who “may have exhibited religious bias on the job.”

The New Republic (4/27/18) called Gallagher’s short reign at Religion News Service a “spectacular implosion.” A highly regarded religion writer cited “irreconcilable differences” with him, after one journalist was fired and others left in protest. Religion Dispatches (6/19/18) reported that Gallagher was subject to widespread criticism for a “pro-Catholic bias,” considered ethically compromising in interdenominational publishing.

Notably, sources at RNS told the blog Get Religion (12/11/19) “that Gallagher had barely stepped into his position three years ago when he flew off to Abu Dhabi to talk with a moneyed sheik about some kind of RNS collaboration; as in the staff providing content for the United Arab Emirates Ministry of Tolerance.” His exit from RNS would have been just around the time that Gallagher took on the producing, writing and directing of Amen-Amen-Amen.

In terms of outside funders, several names are listed on the film’s website as executive producers—a title given to those who fund a film—with Marc Bell, an NYU trustee, given top billing. At least one other executive producer, James Deutsch, has ties to NYU. Deutsch was, at the time of filming, a trustee of elite Manhattan prep school the Trinity School alongside former NYU president and central Amen figure John Sexton; Deutsch has since become an NYU Law trustee.

Sexton himself plays a pivotal role in the film as the person who introduced directly to Sheik Mohamed the idea of the Torah gifting; he was also present at the gifting ceremony and interviewed in the film. Sexton was the founder of NYU Abu Dhabi, which is fully funded by the UAE. The film’s credits give “a special thanks” to “the inestimable John Sexton and his team of Nancy Gessner, Dan Evans, Elizabeth Cheung-Gaffney, Emily Daughtry and Catherine DeLong” and note that “the film would not have been possible without John Sexton’s overall leadership.” The only other people given special thanks are seven UAE government officials, including Sheik Mohamed. While special thanks do not always imply a transfer of money, this roster raises questions about conflicts of interest.

Essential individuals

PBS funding standards aim to “protect its credibility and integrity by ensuring the editorial independence of all content from funders.” In the case of Amen-Amen-Amen, questions should be asked about the individuals and organizations that appear essential to the film’s production. Moreover, the constellation of relationships among funders, participants, those featured in the film and their political and economic interests are complex, and raise suspicions about editorial independence.

In fact, numerous individuals associated with NYU are given thanks in the film credits, including:

  • Nancy Gessner, administrative manager of NYU
  • Dan Evans, chief of staff and deputy to the president at NYU
  • Elizabeth Cheung-Gaffney, instructor and administrator at NYU Shanghai
  • Emily Daughtry, preceptor of Sheikh Mohamed bin Zayed Scholars, NYU/ Abu Dhabi
  • Catherine DeLong, associate vice chancellor & CFO at NYU/Abu Dhabi
  • Sara Aeder, director of development of NYU’s Bronfman Center for Jewish Student Life, as well as the staff of the Bronfman Center
  • Emily Hirsch, formerly senior brand strategist at NYU
  • Tracy Lavin, director of community and education engagement, NYU/Abu Dhabi
  • Eric Hilgendorf, an employee of NYU/Abu Dhabi

In addition, Cheung-Gaffney and DeLong received credits as “legal” and “accounting and financial” for the film, respectively. Both worked directly under Sexton at the time in similar capacities for the Catalyst Foundation for Universal Education, which Sexton founded and directed.

Yehuda Sarna, another prominent figure in the documentary, is the executive director of the NYU’s Bronfman Center for Jewish Student Life, who simultaneously serves as chief rabbi of the Jewish Council of the Emirates (and is a public proponent of the Abraham Accords).

The large role that NYU staff and trustees played in the film raises questions about the film’s financial relationship with the school and potential conflicts of interest.

Also featured in the film is Eli Epstein, identified as an “interfaith activist” and American businessman, with the idea of the gifting of the Torah. Epstein is also listed as an executive producer, which indicates he not only stars in the film but also helped fund it.

In the film, Epstein alludes to his decades of business activities in the UAE; he is currently chief innovation officer at the aluminum company Aminco Resources, and he was the founder and CEO of Calco, a partner of Conoco Oil. Epstein currently also runs a US-registered nonprofit organization, Visions of Abraham, which “provide(s) our clientele with a one-stop-shop for individually curated group tours to two of the world’s most popular destinations.” Its website also says:

Recently, our team has adopted a common goal of maximizing the historic potential of the Abraham Accords by making it as easy as possible for Jewish and Israeli groups of all sizes and denominations to explore the UAE and Bahrain firsthand.

Amen-Amen-Amen filmmaker Tom Gallagher said he didn’t take any money from the UAE government, but the funding sources of the UAE-based Muslim Council of Elders, which is thanked in the credits, are not transparent, and are very likely to include government funding. And as noted, NYU/Abu Dhabi, many of whose employees are credited by the film, is a project fully funded by the UAE.

In other words, the film appears to have been funded or otherwise made possible by the same people who are featured in the film, and who also have economic and political interests in the narrative advanced by the film.

If it looks like a duck

In light of its funders and collaborators, it’s dubious to view Amen-Amen-Amen as simply a celebration of religious tolerance. It makes more sense to read it as a performative film that seeks to promote the UAE’s and Israel’s political interests in normalization, as well as the interests of NYU.

Tom Gallagher talking to GlobeDocs

The manipulation of the film and its backers is very well done and consistent. For example, in the filmmaker talk sponsored by the Boston Globe, Gallagher stressed that Jews in Dubai who descended from Holocaust survivors were especially moved by the UAE’s welcome. He said, “So many come to this with the horrific history of the Holocaust and persecution, and they see that they can actually be accepted.” An uninformed viewer might find this poignant, except that Arabs and Muslims had nothing to do with the Holocaust.

But the filmmakers mince no words when they tout their own importance. In a discussion in Amen-Amen-Amen among Epstein, Sarna and Elie Abadie, senior rabbi of the Jewish Council of the Emirates, they call the events featured in the film a “landmark.” They call it “an anchor in a way that could redefine the terms of civilization.” This is a powerful claim, to say the least—one that the film does little to justify.

While there isn’t a strict or agreed upon definition of “documentary,” among the general public the word tends to evoke the idea of objectivity. Given how close expository documentaries might be to propaganda, it is surprising that there are no industry standards for evaluating films branded as documentaries; and each promoter is left to develop and enforce their own guidelines.

After several inquiries, the Boston Globe answered my question about selection criteria and due diligence simply by saying, “We often have filmmakers reach out and pitch us their ideas and their films throughout the year to screen during our GlobeDocs monthly screenings—that was the case for this film.”

WNET also didn’t provide details, but told me: “All of our programs are carefully vetted to ensure that they meet broadcast standards and represent community needs. Vetting includes funding, content, and other production standards.”

In fact, it is not clear how Amen-Amen-Amen  complies with the standards of any media organization that claims to be nonpartisan. The problems include the absence of context that would inform an understanding of the political motivations of the film, several questions about the integrity of the story and production, and lack of clarity about the transparency and independence of funding for the film. The dubious credibility of this “documentary” ought to give pause to discerning viewers and lead them to look more deeply at the Abraham Accords and those who profit from them. Hopefully, the gatekeepers like PBS and the Boston Globe who lift up films making politically-interested claims can also learn to comply with their own standards, which are necessary to ensure public trust.

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