Betrayal and Hope

January 5th: Shemot
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
 

We begin this Torah portion—and the book of Exodus and the New Year—with disappointment. Disappointment in the way that trusted institutions can turn on a dime and become oppressive. When we Jews read, “And a new king arose over Egypt who did not know Joseph” (Exodus 1.8), we know that trouble is coming.  

The phrase itself is curiously ambiguous. Is the new king unaware of Joseph? Or does he willfully (ideologically) “forget” what Joseph has done for his country? Or does this new king arise over an Egypt which has forgotten its history—and its historical friendship and appreciation of Joseph and his family? In any event, this advent of suffering speaks to the ways that things can change suddenly and for the worse.  

Though the Torah portion speaks of ancient Egypt, there are many modern parallels. Today my disappointment centers on two “new kings” who have risen and forgotten—and betrayed their higher selves. 

The New Kings of “The University”
I was raised in a college town and always looked up to “The University” for enlightenment. Though not very famous, the college in Lafayette, Louisiana offered expansive wisdom—in music, theater, art, literature, and philosophy. It was the font of technological innovation and improvement—and of political and civil rights illumination. In a place where there was a lot of racism and bigotry, the university offered knowledge and understanding of a better world, one where people were prized for their minds and characters rather than by the color of their skin or ethnic heritage. In Cajun country, this was more than just a Black-White matter. Education—university education—was the road to opportunity for many French Acadians, providing them paths from agrarian and blue-collar work to professions and prominence. Responding to these early experiences and expectations, I have always gravitated to places near colleges and universities and considered them the midwives of civilization. 

How disappointing then that the drive for equality and respect has been turned into oppression from the Left—how the compassionate concept of intersectionality has been turned into an exclusionary bludgeon that demands adherence to authoritarian political formulations. How the noble ends of civil rights and civil liberties have been turned into weapons of racial warfare. How the racial or ethnic identities of thinkers have become more important than their thoughts.  

This is not a sudden development. These kinds of things have been developing on campuses for a few decades. Even Penn State, a place not known as a hotbed of the enslavement of intellectual inquiry and discussion, has not been immune. From the White graduate students forbidden to speak at DEI committee meetings to a job applicant in Jewish Studies being publicly berated for being a “colonialist” (her research was on modern Israeli society), we have had our share of oppressive and small-minded foolishness. Fortunately (?), the real problems are at other universities, where chants of “Death to the Jews,” the shunning of Zionists, and mob scenes desecrate the hallowed halls of learning. It is so disappointing, and I find myself fearing that Sophia The Goddess of Wisdom is facing exile.

 

The New Kings of the News Media
I have always looked up to journalists—to the brave and wise people who report on the important events of the day. They brought an integrity to their work—work that was important for both the social fabric and the functioning of a democratic society. Though my studies in history revealed scurrilous journalistic behaviors in the past, I believed that major institutions like the New York Times, the Washington Post, Time Magazine, The Atlantic Monthly, and National Public Radio were the arbiters of truth and enlightenment. They were the ones to shine light on the facts of the day. They were the ones to help us decipher and interpret the complications of the world. They were the ones upon whom we could depend for good information. But, as entertainment and emotional pornography became more important than facts and analysis, as celebrity took over from integrity, and as moral equivalence transformed from a fallacy to a journalistic axion, my icons collapsed. Sometimes I feel sorry for journalists who try to work under intense and absurd pressures. Sometimes I despise them for their moral vapidity—and the real harm they are doing to our world.  

I first noticed it when reporters at prestigious networks seemed oblivious to the history of the stories they were reporting. I then began to see a media obsessed with feelings—anger at some, empathy with others—as though that were the most salient part of a story. I then noticed a fear of appearing biased so pathological that important reporters could not bring themselves to distinguish between opinion and propaganda.  

None of this is new, but the intensity, immorality, and sheer misinformation in the coverage of the War between Israel and Hamas have been stunning. We know that warring sides tend to spin the stories their way, but is not fact-checking the work of reporters? Would not a little reporting help distinguish the difference between Israeli public relations and Israeli behavior—and show that Israel is not a blood-thirsty horde indiscriminately and unnecessarily attacking innocent civilians in a genocidal frenzy? And would not a little reporting show that Hamas’ statements about civilian casualties are dissembling at its best/worst—and manipulatively creating an impression that masks their murderous behaviors, their disregard for Palestinian lives, and their genocidal hatred for Jews and Westerners?

 

I could go on and on—and you could probably join in and give your own examples, but let us get back to the Torah. The betrayal of righteousness introduced with, “And a new king arose over Egypt…” is not the end of the story. A book that begins with betrayal and slavery eventuates in  Yetzi’at Mitzrayim, the Exodus from Egypt—an exit from narrowness to an open and improved world, one that aspires to morality and holiness.  

I am disappointed—terribly so—at institutions I used to trust, but I look around at the many who are not buying it, who are seeing through the fallacious stories and tortured analyses, who are not fooled by propaganda and the coopting of noble aspirations, who are thinking and turning away from the “new kings” and seeking better sources of information and enlightenment. The story is grim right now, but I am hopeful for improvement.