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When Donald Trump descended his golden escalator one fateful morning in June 2015, I had no idea how much it would affect my social and professional life, more than 9,000 kilometers away. I had grown up in New York but was living in Beit Shemesh, an American enclave between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, covering international Jewish communities for The Jerusalem Post. I was the only reporter many of my neighbors knewâand their only outlet for intense distrust in the media.
Before I knew it, my little American enclave in the Middle East became an outpost of Trump country. The sexton of my synagogue began wearing a MAGA hat, and longtime friends began parroting Trumpâs anti-press talking points. They were already suspicious of the Israeli press, fed a steady diet of anti-media attacks by Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. By early 2016, Joe Federman, the Associated Pressâs Jerusalem bureau chief, had begun to characterize the governmentâs condemnations as âincitement against the foreign media.â
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âIt has become very unpleasant being a journalist in this country,â Federman told a crowd of American Jewish leaders visiting Jerusalem. âNot only do politicians accuse us of being hostile, we are accused of staging events for the media.â The governmentâs hostility was shared by many citizens. According to a 2017 survey by the Israeli Democracy Institute, a Jerusalem NGO, only 30 percent of Jewish Israelis expressed confidence in the media as an institution.
Since the beginning of the Trump era, I have been repeatedly accosted by friends and acquaintances seeking to vent about the Fourth Estateâs perceived iniquities. I have been forced to endure lectures on media âcorruptionâ and discourses on the superiority of Fox News to the âliberalâ outfits. Iâve sat through condescending conversations about the lack of credibility of outfits reporting on Assadâs chemical weapons. Iâve been told repeatedly (including by close relatives) that Iâm okay, but Iâm not representative of the press corps. I have been told that I âdonât really understand how the media works.â I was once even informed, with great solemnity, that the role of newspapers is to âadvance [President Trumpâs] agenda.â
And I have learned that producing quality journalism isnât enough when readers understand neither how news is gathered nor why an independent press is crucial to a free society.
Before I knew it, my little American enclave in the Middle East became an outpost of Trump country. The sexton of my synagogue began wearing a MAGA hat
In religious communities, the press is seen by many as an institution meant to uphold social norms, rather than stir the pot. Four years before Trumpâs campaign, in late 2011, religious extremists declared war on âimmodestyâ in Beit Shemesh. New communities of ultra-Orthodox Jews and Americans were sprouting up side by side in the cityâincluding residents from more extreme ultra-Orthodox sects, many of whom held conservative views on female modesty.
By December of that year, the battle had become a matter of international interest, due to the fight over Orot Banot, an Orthodox girls school on the border between an American neighborhood and an ultra-Orthodox (known in Hebrew as Haredi) community.
As tensions rose, the Haredim began holding daily vigils outside the school. They spat on young girls and called them âsluts,â âwhores,â and worse. One student, 8-year-old Naama Margolese, quickly became the face of the conflict after her vivid description of being spat on by protesters was aired on Israeli television. The conflict spread beyond the school, and residents soon found themselves battling for the right to walk the cityâs streets. Female joggers and motorists passing through Haredi neighborhoods were harassed (and sometimes violently accosted), and members of the cityâs self-appointed modesty patrol took to public transportation in an attempt to enforce de facto gender segregation on buses.
At the time, I was a features writer for the Post and a resident of the more religiously moderate neighborhood of Ramat Beit Shemesh Aleph. While the Postâs Jeremy Sharon covered the religion beat for our daily edition, my editor at the weekend magazine commissioned a series of longform reports delving into the root causes of the conflict.
The same kind of intolerance that the extremists leveled against these young, Americanized girls was now leveled against me, a journalist trying to tell a story that some would rather have suppressed.
Every week, people would approach me to hash out my articles, praising or criticizing my coverage according to their personal outlook. Many of my friends were sympathetic, but their disapproval was keenly felt. Those who sympathized with the Haredi community, even if they did not agree with the use of violence, accused me of peddling lashon hara (Biblically prohibited gossip) and of creating a chillul Hashem (desecration of Godâs name), both serious matters for Orthodox Jews. I was socially stigmatized among my religiously conservative neighbors.
Sometimes this took ugly forms. I reported on a moderate, local rabbi who had penned a lengthy public letter decrying the âoverreactionâ to the assault on Naama Margolese and refusing to condemn her attackers. To do so, he asserted, would be to fall into the mediaâs trap and cause his community to be associated in the publicâs mind with the âkooks.â After my reporting was published, one resident of my neighborhood went so far as to threaten my family. A neighbor confronted me once when I was at lunch with friends, asking why I felt I had the right to publish the rabbiâs words without his permission. Unsatisfied with my answer, he kicked me out as my friends watched, silently and impassively.
For the most part, Haredi print outlets are subservient to the communityâs rabbinic leadership and have become ever more stringent in restricting the publication of images of women. There are few ultra-Orthodox people in Israelâs mainstream press, and while recent years have have seen the establishment of several independent Haredi news websites, many rabbis are still vocally opposed to internet usage, in large part because it is a source of unregulated information. As such, I found myself compelled to justify my work on numerous occasions, including a confrontations with an ultra-Orthodox journalist who questioned which rabbis had given me âpermissionâ to report certain facts.
Raised on the idea that protecting the communityâs image is of paramount importance, the Haredim strongly disagree with the âsunlight is the best disinfectantâ weltanschauung to which we in the press adhere. As Dr. Yoel Finkelman, author of Strictly Kosher Reading, put it, in the ultra-Orthodox community, âthe role of the press should not be to shed light on problems, but to support our existing worldview and self-perception.â
For a long time I pushed back against this idea in an attempt to become a local evangelist for the media, explaining how the sausage is made and trying to remove the misconceptions about our line of work. It hasnât worked. And while many of my colleagues in Israel have had different experiences, I know Iâm not alone.
âIt is an ongoing challenge when you are permanently embedded in your community to report on it in a deep, meaningful, and accurate way, because you face many pressures from everybody up to and including your spouse,â says Alan Abbey, a veteran Israeli journalist and adjunct professor of journalism at National University of San Diego. âAnd itâs the same in all ethnic and minority media. People in the gay media or people in the Hispanic media face similar issuesâŚ.Ethnic and minority journalists are permanently embedded in their communities, and itâs very difficult to break out of that box.â
We have lost a lot of ground in recent years, and Iâve become convinced that much of the antipathy toward the media stems from basic misapprehensions regarding the nature and role of the press. Only a strong and sustained push for media literacy will allow us to regain the trust of a public that has, in some ways, become fundamentally hostile to our mission. The Haredi community may be an extreme example of this phenomenon, but in an age of increasing fragmentation and tribalism, it is no longer the outlier it once was.
Just as in the Haredi community, many news consumers in the United States now perceive media outlets as partisan if they donât reinforce their biases. They, unfortunately, see the role of the press as supporting specific agendas and ideologies. This kind of thinking is dangerous and must be countered if we are to continue to do our jobs as the watchdogs of democracy.
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