I was relieved to see the backside of 2016, the past few months of which have left a bitter aftertaste of shell shock and death march. While there have certainly been personal joys, the wearying relentlessness of global events, from the election of Donald Trump to terror attacks in Berlin, Baghdad and Istanbul, from the unending humanitarian catastrophes in Syria and Yemen to the (seemingly sudden) deaths of A.A. Gill, Carrie Fisher, George Michael, David Bowie, Leonard Cohen, Alan Rickman and others, has left me depleted.

Yesterday – just the third day of a whole new year – it was the death of John Berger, the Booker Prize-winning English novelist, art critic and cultural theorist, that greeted me when I awoke. Judging by his intellectual and creative output and the high regard it secured, Berger’s 90 years were well-spent. Still, to those of us weaned on his influential essay collection Ways of Seeing, or the BBC series it spawned, his death was a shock.

Reading about Berger’s life, I was reminded that he was among the first Western intellectuals actively to take up the 2006 call by Palestinian filmmakers, artists and other cultural workers for an academic and cultural boycott of Israel as ‘another path to a just peace’, and to urge his colleagues to do the same. Besides signing a letter to The Guardian in which he and 93 others made the case for solidarity with Palestinians, Berger wrote his own personal appeal which I’m pasting below.

As it happens, his death and the inevitable review of his life that follows coincide with the Modern Language Association’s long-awaited vote on a resolution to boycott Israeli academic institutions, which takes place this weekend.

Indeed, perhaps the most sobering aspect of these artists’ comments is that they were written a full decade ago, yet they might as well have been composed yesterday. The conditions they describe are indescribably worse: record numbers of Palestinian homes demolished and administrative detention orders issued, breakneck colonial expansion against a growing determination to annex Palestinian lands outright, unchecked settler violence, and a decade long siege of Gaza, punctuated by regular military assaults of increasing and experimental viciousness.

Like a canny child with no discernible boundaries who’s grasped that impunity and toothless handwringing constitute the reliably flaccid response to his rampages, the Israeli government under Benjamin Netanyahu is out of control, beyond the reach of ordinary decency let alone the dictates of international law. It has found an aggressive champion in Donald Trump, whose own pathology is eerily similar. Together they bring to mind Mickey and Mallory Knox, the protagonists in Oliver Stone’s grim crime film, Natural Born Killers, in which the media exalt a pair of monstrous murderers.

Today the case for BDS is more compelling than ever, which is surely why the backlash against it becomes ever fiercer. As the human rights lawyer Jonathan Kuttab pointed out in a speech in Toronto a few months ago, the pro-Israel lobby long ago abandoned putative grassroots campaigns via newspapers’ letters pages and the like, refocusing its formidable resources on persuading governments to defy their own constitutions by outlawing free speech on Israel, while waging a concurrent smear campaign against anyone who advocates for Palestinian rights. And to close the circle, those with the temerity to comment on this bullying at the behest of a foreign power are accused of perpetuating anti-Semitic notions of a ‘global Jewish conspiracy.’

A case in point is Nadia Shoufani, the Ontario schoolteacher who was suspended over remarks she made at an Al-Quds Day rally last July, in which she referred to the Palestinian writer and political activist Ghassan Kanafani as a ‘martyr.’ Kanafani was assassinated by the Mossad in Beirut in 1972. Ms Shoufani’s case was covered by the taxpayer-funded CBC, which did no independent research, preferring to parrot defamatory claims supported by historical distortions that had been circulated by B’nai Brith and the Simon Wiesenthal Centre.

Yesterday, the Palestine Festival of Literature posted on Facebook a video of Berger reading Kanafani’s ‘Letter from Gaza’. It’s also embedded below, in honour of Berger and Nadia Shoufani, both of whom refused the complicity of silence.

Here is Berger’s letter:

I would like to make a few personal remarks about this world-wide appeal to teachers, intellectuals and artists to join the cultural boycott of the state of Israel, as called for by over a hundred Palestinian academics and artists, and – very importantly – also by a number of Israeli public figures, who outspokenly oppose their country’s illegal occupation of the Palestine territories of the West Bank and Gaza. Their call is attached, together with my After Guernica drawing. I hope you will feel able to add your signature, to the attached letter, which we intend to publish in national newspapers.

The boycott is an active protest against two forms of exclusion which have persisted, despite many other forms of protestations, for over sixty years – for almost three generations.

During this period the state of Israel has consistently excluded itself from any international obligation to heed UN resolutions or the judgement of any international court. To date, it has defied 246 Security Council Resolutions!

As a direct consequence seven million Palestinians have been excluded from the right to live as they wish on land internationally acknowledged to be theirs; and now increasingly, with every week that passes, they are being excluded from their right to any future at all as a nation.

As Nelson Mandela has pointed out, boycott is not a principle, it is a tactic depending upon circumstances. A tactic which allows people, as distinct from their elected but often craven governments, to apply a certain pressure on those wielding power in what they, the boycotters, consider to be an unjust or immoral way. (In white South Africa yesterday and in Israel today, the immorality was, or is being, coded into a form of racist apartheid).

Boycott is not a principle. When it becomes one, it itself risks to become exclusive and racist. No boycott, in our sense of the term, should be directed against an individual, a people, or a nation as such. A boycott is directed against a policy and the institutions which support that policy either actively or tacitly. Its aim is not to reject, but to bring about change.

How to apply a cultural boycott? A boycott of goods is a simpler proposition, but in this case it would probably be less effective, and speed is of the essence, because the situation is deteriorating every month (which is precisely why some of the most powerful world political leaders, hoping for the worst, keep silent.).

How to apply a boycott? For academics it’s perhaps a little clearer – a question of declining invitations from state institutions and explaining why. For invited actors, musicians, jugglers or poets it can be more complicated. I’m convinced, in any case, that its application should not be systematised; it has to come from a personal choice based on a personal assessment.

For instance. An important mainstream Israeli publisher today is asking to publish three of my books. I intend to apply the boycott with an explanation. There exist, however, a few small, marginal Israeli publishers who expressly work to encourage exchanges and bridges between Arabs and Israelis, and if one of them should ask to publish something of mine, I would unhesitatingly agree and furthermore waive aside any question of author’s royalties. I don’t ask other writers supporting the boycott to come necessarily to exactly the same conclusion. I simply offer an example.

What is important is that we make our chosen protests together, and that we speak out, thus breaking the silence of connivance maintained by those who claim to represent us, and thus ourselves representing, briefly by our common action, the incalculable number of people who have been appalled by recent events but lack the opportunity of making their sense of outrage effective.

John Berger

As the Modern Language Association’s annual conference approaches, members committed to pursuing Palestinians’ academic freedom by pushing for a boycott of Israeli academic institutions are increasing their output of compelling advocacy pieces in support of the organisation’s boycott resolution. This is a brief but strong statement from Shirly Bahar, a Mizrahi Israeli doctoral candidate based in New York.

Here’s a short excerpt:

I support BDS as an Israeli whose Jewish-Israeli citizenship marked on her ID card exempts her from the harsh oppression that Palestinians experience on a daily basis. I am not interested in the special privileges and safety that my Jewish identity mark grants me on [sic] the expense of Palestinian lives and basic human rights. Supporting non-violent resistance to occupation and oppression marks a political moral obligation to account for the suffering of others.

Read more: Shirly Bahar’s Statement in Support of a Boycott of Israeli Academic Institutions

This comes from the Modern Language Association which will vote soon on a resolution to support a boycott of Israeli academic institutions in response to Israel’s ‘systematic denial of academic freedom and education rights for Palestinian scholars and students’. The resolution was submitted by David Lloyd and Rebecca Comay, a philosophy professor at my alma mater, the University of Toronto. (Although I did a minor in philosophy, I never studied under Prof. Comay.) The MLA, which boasts a membership of more than 26,000 in 100 countries, will vote on the resolution at its annual convention on 7th January in Philadelphia.

“On December 23, 2016, the UN Security Council passed UN Resolution 2334 condemning Israel’s illegal settlements, currently home to over 600,000 Jewish settlers. The resolution is an affirmation of international law, and the first resolution the Security Council has adopted on Israel and the Palestinians in nearly eight years. Although not legally binding, it is nonetheless important measure. UN 2334 works in tandem with grassroots organizing by the international community supporting the non-violent Palestinian-led call for Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions until Israel complies with international law—a movement MLA Members for Justice in Palestine seek to support with an academic boycott resolution that will be presented for a vote this January at the Delegate Assembly.”

The rest is here: UN Security Council Resolution 2334 Condemns Israel’s Illegal Settlements, Justifies Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions

This comes from Jamie Stern-Weiner’s blog which is always worth a read. No one who’s been following the appalling situation in Yemen will be surprised by any of this, but seeing it spelled out in black and white (and red) is useful, sobering and enraging.

Lie 1: Saudi-led coalition has not breached international law. UK Government: ‘We don’t think there are breaches of international humanitarian law’. (22 September 2016) Amnesty Internat…

More here: UK GOVERNMENT LIES ON YEMEN – A PARTIAL LIST

The press release below comes from Independent Jewish Voices, ‘a national human rights organization whose mandate is to promote a just resolution to the conflict in Israel and Palestine through the application of international law and respect for the human rights of all parties.’

The statement is in response to the latest aggressive attempt to shut down criticism of the Israeli state and smear supporters of Palestinian self-determination in the form of ‘Motion 36’ which is being debated today in the Ontario legislature. The motion alleges that the BDS movement, which uses non-violent tactics to pressure Israel to respect international law and Palestinian rights, promotes ‘hatred, hostility, prejudice, racism and intolerance’.

Sadly, the Ontario legislature has form, and reflects the stranglehold of Israeli apologists on Canada’s entire political and media establishment.

Just last May, Liberal and Tory MPPs in Ontario put aside their differences to propose a private member’s bill that would have blacklisted those who support boycotts of companies complicit in the denial of Palestinian rights and support for Israeli settlements, whose illegality is ostensibly the position of the Canadian government. Apparently, we’re allowed to call the Israeli government’s behaviour illegal, but doing anything about it constitutes ‘anti Semitism.’ Last week, the Canadian government joined just seven other nations in opposing a UN resolution simply supporting Palestinian self-determination. Wow. In doing so, it found itself in the esteemed company of Narau and the Marshall Islands and Palau, alongside Israel and the US.

Before you get to IJV’s media release here’s a clever and snappy video they posted on Twitter, which provides a bit of context about both attacks on BDS and the role of boycotts as tool of dissent in contemporary history.

Toronto, Ontario— Numerous organizations which support the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions (BDS) movement are disturbed by MPP Gila Martow’s latest motion. Motion 36 will be debated and voted on at Queen’s Park later today. The private member motion suggests that BDS promotes or encourages “hatred, hostility, prejudice, racism and intolerance” and calls on the Ontario Legislature to “reject” it.

“BDS rejects all forms of discrimination, including antisemitsm,” says Mariam Nokerah, a student activist with the group Students for Justice in Palestine at UOIT/DC. According to the BDS movement’s website, BDS only targets businesses and institutions that are directly aiding in the ongoing violation of Palestinians’ human rights.

“We agree that any action that stands for hatred, hostility, prejudice, racism and intolerance has no place in the province of Ontario,” stated Atif Kubursi, spokespseron for the Canadian Arab Federation. “However, it is defamatory to suggest that those advocating for human rights through non-violent actions stand for hatred.”

“While we strongly condemn antisemitism and any other form of bigotry, the motion’s endorsement of the Ottawa Protocol on Combating Antisemitism is highly problematic,” says Independent Jewish Voices Canada spokesperson Tyler Levitan. “The Protocol’s definition of antisemitism accepts that opposing the historic and ongoing dispossession of Palestinians amounts to a form of Jew-hatred. The definition has been widely discredited and was rejected by the European Union.”

“This motion is based on falsehoods about the BDS movement and serves to whitewash the reality of Israel’s ongoing and systematic mistreatment of the Palestinians,” says Dania Majid of the Canadian Arab Lawyers Association. “Officially condemning a perfectly lawful and legitimate form of protest creates a serious chill on freedom of expression.”

“Rather than rejecting the BDS movement, the Ontario Legislature ought to be rejecting dishonest and defamatory efforts by MPP Gila Martow to demonize Palestinian human rights supporters,” says Thomas Woodley, spokesperson for Canadians for Justice and Peace in the Middle East (CJPME).

Critics of the motion are calling on MPPs to vote against Motion 36. They want Ontario to uphold the human rights and freedom of expression of all Ontarians; and have equal regard for all forms of racism and discrimination, including Islamophobia, anti-Arab racism and antisemitism.

Statement calling for an end to intimidation of Palestinian rights advocacy in Ontario by over 70 civil society organizations: http://ijvcanada.org/2016/the-ontario-government-must-end-its-intimidation-of-palestinian-rights-advocacy/

For more information:

Tyler Levitan, spokesperson for Independent Jewish Voices Canada, tyler@ijvcanada.org

Dania Majid, spokesperson for Canadian Arab Lawyers Association, info@canarablaw.org

Thomas Woodley, spokesperson for Canadians for Justice and Peace in the Middle East, thomas.woodley@cjpme.org

As regular readers might recall, I volunteered for some time with a project called We Are Not Numbers. WANN pairs young Palestinians in Gaza and the dismal refugee camps of Lebanon with writers abroad who act as mentors, helping give voice to the experiences of these Palestinian youth and developing their skill as storytellers. I was in good company at WANN: other volunteers include the poet and novelist Nancy Kricorian, the Martha Gellhorn Special Award winner Jonathan Cook, and Philip Weiss of Mondoweiss.

WANN is a project of the Geneva-based EuroMed Human Rights Monitor, which observes and reports on human rights abuses and breaches of international law across the Mediterranean region. The tireless American writer and social entrepreneur Pam Bailey runs the WANN program with commitment, diligence, and fierce love.

A few weeks ago, I was shocked – naively perhaps – to receive an email from WANN letting me know that Pam had been denied entry into Israel, and hence Gaza, on her last visit there in August. What’s more, Pam was prohibited from returning for ten years.

This had occurred while I was on holiday, so I didn’t hear the news till several weeks after it happened. Since then, I’ve been in touch with Pam who gave me permission to republish her account of this heartbreaking episode, which was first published on Medium; you’ll find it below. Among many other things, Pam’s experience is a further reminder, if one were needed, of the arbitrary and relentless brutality to which Palestinians and anyone who dares to defend their humanity are systematically subjected.

But before you read Pam’s story, let me share a serendipitous discovery I made just today. You’ll see that she references the debut novel Your Heart is a Muscle the Size of a Fist by the Sri Lankan writer Sunil Yapa. Coincidentally, as I told Pam, on the wall just outside my study I have a framed print of the original quote which reads ‘Your Heart is a Weapon the Size of your Fist. Keep fighting. Keep loving’ by the London graffiti artist Pure Evil. I had spotted the print on a visit to the V&A with my mother, and bought it online a couple of days later when I noticed how its moving characterisation of love as a political act had become lodged in the part of my gut where some poetry resides.

I’ve often wondered about the origins of that quote, so this morning I spent some time on Google. I learned from an evangelical Lutheran church group in Chicago that the quote and an image of a fist clutching a heart appear as graffiti on Israel’s monstrous and illegal ‘separation wall’, which is more than four times longer than the Berlin Wall and close to three times its height, and the majority of which sits on Palestinian land in the West Bank. I’ve emailed Pam to ask if she knew about this connection, and I’m curious to see her reply. Regardless, I’m struck by its unexpected aptness, and the mysterious energy that transports us to the ideas that keep us going.

your heart is a weapon

The occupation of the mind

When we think of “occupation” in the Palestinian context, we most often conjure images of the wall, barbed wire, gates and soldiers. But occupation is at its most insidious when it seeps into your mind.

On Sunday, August 21, I flew into Tel Aviv’s Ben Gurion Airport, on my way to Gaza. Let me be clear: I do not like entering Israel, and I detest Ben Gurion Airport. But Gaza is my second home — it is my place of respite and familial warmth. And since Egyptian strongman Sisi has made a U.S. embassy letter a condition of Gaza entry (which my country will not give), Israel is my only way in. So I sucked it up and got on the plane.

Safe in the knowledge that my Swedish funder already had obtained a permit for me to enter Gaza (typically the hardest part), my guard was down when I approached airport passport control. The only thought that crossed my mind was that the inspector in my line seemed to be unusually thorough and perhaps I should switch…

But then there, I was, standing before her. She asked why I was entering, for what purpose, where was I going? And as instructed by my Swedish facilitators, I told the truth: “I am going into Gaza to work on a women’s project. I have a permit. Here’s my letter of invitation.” Bang. If I had listened closely, perhaps I would have heard the drawbridge going up — perhaps forever separating me from the place and the people I love so much.

When I was promptly walked into the “special room,” however, I only expected a bit of harassment — after all, that’s what Israel does. And I had a permit to enter Gaza. I even smiled amiably at the odd mix of others in the room, merrily greeting them as my fellow special guests. I didn’t suspect that the bright green tag affixed to my backpack made me even more “special” than most of the others.

I quickly made friends with those around me who would talk (some studiously avoided eye contact, as if our varying degrees of specialness were infectious). I found Adam, a tall, gangly, Arab-looking kid from Florida, particularly engaging. This was his first trip ever out of the United States and he’d been detained. “Is this normal?” he asked. I looked at him in amusement. “Why did you come here?” I asked back. “I wanted a good beach, that’s all,” he said. “Ummm… and you picked Israel?” I responded in disbelief.

Adam, however, eventually left and was released to go look for that beach of his. I was not.

After an hour stretched into two, I finally was ushered into the office of the oldest of the young women who always seem to run Israel’s border gates. The Palestinian NGO who’d be hosting me inside Gaza is “illegal in Israel,” I was informed. My response that I had a permit, that the NGO didn’t work in Israel, that I didn’t intend to stay in Israel, was brushed aside. No questions were asked, no comments or questions accepted. I was finger printed, then told I would not be able to return for 10 years.

Ten YEARS? Those words would echo through my head for the next 11 hours.

In the following days, people asked me if I had been scared, assuming I was. After all, I was transported in a literal prison van — bars and all — to what amounted to a jail. Forced to surrender all of my belongings and then confined to a stifling, hot, concrete-box room with barely more than an excruciatingly uncomfortable bunk bed (I have a bad back) for what seemed to be hours upon end. No company (except for a few girls who spoke only Russian for the first several hours), no distraction of any kind. Except the chatter in my brain.

I wasn’t scared. All I really heard or understood was TEN YEARS. The words felt like a heavy weight on my chest, squeezing out all the air.

I had many hours to turn those words over in my head. I know it is but a pale comparison to what a prisoner must endure, but so many hours with only my fevered brain to keep me company was a hellish kind of experience. Reliving the previous hours. Imagining choosing another passport line. Making up a story about wanting to see the “holy sights” in Jerusalem. Why had I told the truth? Since when did I expect Israel to be predictable or reasonable? The way the scenario could have gone, should have gone — just as it had in April when I had last come — reverberated in my head, over and over and over.

My only other thought was a deep regret at not being able to contact my friends and colleagues in Gaza, who were waiting for me at the Erez crossing. I couldn’t get a phone signal when I was first pulled aside at the airport, and after that, my technology was taken away. (I chuckle now at my first comment upon pulling up to the jail-barracks: “I want an electrical outlet with a U.S. plug adapter. If you are really going to do this to me, I want to get some work done.”)

Finally, sometime in the night, my guards came and got me, drove me right up the tarmac to my return plane home and escorted me on. I might as well have worn cuffs, given the cloak-and-dagger feel of it all. The United Airlines (!!) crew even held onto my passport until we were preparing to land. Why? “If we had to divert the plane due to some emergency, before you reach home, you might try to escape,” I was told. If I had not been so strung out by that point, I would have laughed in their faces. Mata Hari I am not. But it was a little flattering.

Once home, it wasn’t too long before I was ready to fight. Calling lawyers. Threatening to sue. Considering whether I should legally change my last name. Planning a group sit-in at the State Department (after all, we give Israel $3 billion a year, and this is how they treat U.S. citizens?) I am an American and this is what we do. [Note: last month the US jacked up American taxpayers’ charitable donation to the Israeli military to $3.8-billion.]

I knew any legal challenge would cost money, which I’d have to raise, and because I consider my writers from We Are Not Numbers my family and partners, I polled them. Should I raise the money and challenge Israel with the law? Or resign myself to my fate and forever work with them from outside? I was shocked when the results came in: 23–8 in favor of just accepting the verdict.

“We have been suing Israel for years! Unfortunately, it doesn’t work,” stated one writer.

“I don’t think you will succeed if you fight Israel legally; you are not the only one who is banned for 10 years. You will lose money and lose the case as well,” wrote another. “Honestly, it sounds like a hopeless case, particularly when it comes to standing against Israel.”

I am not naïve. I am thoroughly disillusioned with international law, and with governments in general. And yet… I still have a belief that I can fight and maybe even win. Some passages from a novel I recently read come to mind. It’s called “Your Heart is a Muscle the Size of a Fist,” by a Sri Lankan named Sunil Yapa, and it’s about the protests against the heartlessness of globalization at the World Trade Association meeting in Seattle in 1999.

There are two passages that come to mind. In the first, a delegate from Sri Lanka is observing the masses of determined protesters, and he thinks, “There is something distinctly American about it all, a fundamental difference in perspective and place — in how they see themselves in the world. This is what makes it so American — not that they feel compassion for mistreated workers three continents away, workers they have never seen or known, whose world they cannot even begin to understand, not that they feel guilty about their privilege, no, not that either, but that they feel the need to do something about it. They feel that they have the power to do something about it. That is what makes it so American. That they feel they have the power to do something — they assume they have that power. They have been born with it — the ability to change the world — and have never questioned its existence, an assumption so massive as to remain completely unseen.” But then the delegate felt a sudden queasy sadness. “What if they knew what a real revolutionary was? How bloody is a real revolution.”

Several pages later, the focus is on Victor, a young black kid who had somewhat reluctantly joined the mostly white protesters. The chant rising up was “WHOSE COPS? OUR COPS!!! WHOSE COPS? OUR COPS!!!” And Victor thought, “Do they really believe that? The police protect money and power. They protect the few from the violence of the many. Do you have to be black or brown to know that? Shit, our cops? The police, they pickle the world, preserve it the way it is. They are guard dogs keeping us afraid and obedient.” (Spoiler alert: Those cops ended up charging the crowd of protesters, attacking them with tear gas and batons. And the WTO meeting was shut down.)

I am one of those protesters. Well, I am slightly different. I have lived in Gaza; I know the people there, the conditions on the ground. I have seen the brutality of the Israelis up close. And yet I still, instinctively, believe I can fight. Believe I can use the law. Believe I can make a difference.

It is not important for me to be in Gaza from a macro point of view. My deep, bottomless feeling of loss, which still consumes me today, is because I love the place and the people. The thought of not seeing it and them again, of no longer feeling my toes in the sea and the sand, of never again hugging and laughing with my writers, brings the same heartbreak I’d feel if I’d lost a home or family member. It’s personal.

But Israel’s increasing efforts to isolate Palestinians in the occupied territories, particularly Gaza, including depriving them of the ability to receive and welcome visitors, is worth fighting in every way possible. And if I can use my American idealism as a battering ram, I will do so.

If you read my post from last week about the cancellation of a course on Palestine at the University of California at Berkeley, you’ll recall that one of its themes was the safety of advocates of Palestinian rights, both on and off campus. Whereas the anxieties of Jewish students are enough to shut down any discussion of Israeli violations of the Geneva Conventions or the bombing of UNRWA schools sheltering Gazan refugees, supporters of basic rights for Palestinians have long understood that university administrations won’t even back them up on free speech grounds, let alone take a stand on the issue itself.

With those thoughts still on my mind, I was interested to spot a piece on Mondoweiss’s Twitter feed yesterday about a pushback by academics against the Canary Mission, a pro Israel website that cowers behind anonymity in order to operate a blacklist of Palestine activists and academics on campuses, including social media account information, employment history, and more.

Besides maintaining this blacklist, the group contacts prospective employers and graduate schools to smear pro Palestine activists as ‘Jew haters’ and supporters of ‘terror’ thereby subjecting them to threats and intimidation on campus, and preventing them from getting jobs and being accepted into graduate programmes. A very ennobling ‘mission.’ As Mondoweiss report, more than 1000 faculty members, reflecting a range of views on Israel/Palestine, have signed a letter condemning the Canary Mission’s objectives and tactics.

While I’d urge you to read the piece in full, I was especially struck by the paragraph below, which notes the failure of university administrations to protect their students from these attacks. Indeed, The Electronic Intifada report that students on the Canary Mission’s list have been threatened with violence and sexual assault.

That the Canary Mission have operated until now with impunity is yet another confirmation that the Palestine Exception continues to flourish, undisturbed by charges of hypocrisy, racism or authoritarianism, and that if you step out of line on Israel-Palestine you are the opposite of safe.

Colleges and universities must defend the rights of students to the free exchange of ideas, including advocacy for Palestinian rights. When an off-campus organization publicizes the names, faces, social media, employment, and educational information of students online, universities have a direct responsibility to protect students from this inflammatory, organized harassment, which also threatens students’ physical safety. Sadly, for the most part, administrators have failed even to appropriately condemn the hateful slander, as when the David Horowitz Freedom Center used Canary Mission student profiles during the 2015-16 academic year to publicly post the names of mostly Muslim/Arab/Palestinian student activists on the walls of campuses, and denounce them as “terrorists.”