Being Beinart after Tel Aviv

Zionism: If I ever had a doubt, I would need to thank Peter Beinart for dispelling it. In truth, his most recent messy little two-step wherein he first deigned to address Israelis and then quickly retreated into proffering an apology for merely speaking to the wrong side was, without a doubt, the most heuristically helpful thing the man has ever done. That apology consisted of three parts: first, Beinart stated that his only intent was to attempt convince the Israelis that they were genocidal murderers. (And of course for that he didn’t even need to be paid). Second, came his confession. He had allowed that noble intent to interfere with his more basic commitment: solidarity with the oppressed Palestinians. And finally, his heartfelt admittance that he had indeed sinned, a tragic failure of judgement for which he was terribly and unconditionally sorry.

Yet this was not just another pro-forma public relations move aimed at salvaging bookings, like something required from a random B-lister caught on a hot-mic being racist. No. This was a window into the BDS/anti-Zionist ecosystem revealing something of its essential character. As veteran trauma specialist Dr. Orli Peter recognized, Beinart’s words reflected the posture of “abused women and … people caught inside cultic systems.” For them, “not checking in with their partner or the group’s gatekeepers…is a kind of sin, as if having an independent thought requires repentance. …ordinary acts of agency [become] betrayals that must be confessed.”

True. The cult of anti-Zionism will brook not one degree of dissent. Yet, Beinart’s sniveling tone, his groveling at the feet of those who view the slaughter of innocent Jews as “heroic” and “deserved” (as per the BDS Movement public statement from October 8, 2023), is a lesson in contrast to the fortitude of our Israeli brethren. Can Beinart’s weak-kneed fretting over speaking his mind compare to the determined spirit of hostage Eli Sharabi?  A man who though regularly tortured by his Hamas captors, chose life against despair. As the elder among his particular group of captives, he took on the responsibility to push the others into never giving up. Even chained in the dirty warrens of Hamas, each evening he forced them to recall something positive that they had experienced that day. Maybe it was less of a beating than usual, or a bit of a vegetable mixed in with their measly rice ration. He and his group, even in face of severe starvation, refused to be bribed with food into citing Koranic passages. They clung mightily to their Jewish identity.

Or can Beinart’s wilting cowardice compare to the incredible nobility of people like Rachel Goldberg-Polin? The mother of the murdered Hersh who left not a stone unturned in her desperate, but ultimately failed attempt to save her terribly wounded son from the claws of Hamas. Did we hear her bemoan her “wasted” efforts? No. Rather, she said: “Why did he have to get this horrible injury, dragged out and live 328 days underground in horrible conditions? Why? And I actually realize…there was a gift in that I was able to fight for his life for a really long time. Not everybody had that opportunity. … But I had all this time to try. And in the trying, I learned about love and about being brave.” Bravery that the likes of this sycophant could barely imagine.

Or to the courage of Amit Soussana who endured the worst kind of assault at the hands of her captor by telling herself, “Okay, you can handle this. … You need to survive. Your mom, your family is waiting.”

And all this strength, of the reserve soldiers who abandoned their homes and put their lives on the line for months and months to battle our enemies, and of their wives and children who pushed through the fear and worry to ensure that the home front stood strong, and of the hundreds and hundreds of teens and retirees who traveled the country volunteering wherever there was need…it all stands as a ringing rejoinder to the wilting frailty of Beinart and his ilk.

The robust Zionist vigor of love, faith and dedication shines even more brightly when viewed next to the lamentable longing in Beinart’s sad, spineless plea for acceptance by those who probably despise him nonetheless. The contrast could not be greater. And so, while surely not his intention, Beinart has provided us all with a lesson in what turning one’s back on Zion looks like: simply pathetic.