Here is an article that is mostly a post-ban interview with the artist Miriam Libicki. It also includes the complete text of the original “accountability statement” in which Libicki’s banning from the Vancouver Comic Art Festival (VanCAF) was announced to the public (but somehow without actually ever mentioning her by name!): MIRIAM LIBICKI ON VANCAF, BANNINGS, AND POLITICAL PROTESTS by Zach Rabiroff, The Comics Journal, June 12, 2024
Personally I see this as cause for at least some measure of cautious optimism. In the current climate of world-wide unhinged hatred for Israel, Libicki’s initial banning was completely predictable. What wasn’t predictable was that there would be sufficient outcry against the banning to force VanCAF to reverse their decision and publicly apologize.
And here is an hour long presentation by Miriam Libicki (“I talk about my whole career and I do a reading from my work in progress at the end”) that she did a year ago:
Libicki’s book, Jobnik! is currently sold out on Amazon:
The melancholy and disgraceful fact being established that, in these closing decades of the nineteenth century, the long-suffering Jew is still universally exposed to injustice, proportioned to the barbarity of the nation that surrounds him, from the indescribable atrocities of the Russian mobs, through every degree of refined insult to petty mortifications, the inevitable result has been to arouse most thinking Jews the necessity of a vigrous and concerted action of defense. They have long enough practiced to no purpose the doctrine which Christendom has been content to preach, and which was inculcated by one of their own race, when the right cheek was smitten to turn the left. They have proved themselves willing and able to assimilate with whatever people and endure every climatic influence. But blind intolerance and ignorance are now forcibly driving them into that position which they have so long hesitated to assume. They must establish an independent nationality …. I am fully persuaded that all suggested solutions other than this of the Jewish problem are but temporary palliatives.
Emma Lazarus was not the first to embrace and articulate the idea of Zionism before the term had even been coined, which would not happen for another seven years after she wrote her 1883 essay The Jewish Problem, quoted above. It was Nathan Birnbaum who first used the words “Zionismus” and “zionistisch” in his German language journal Selbst-Emancipation (Self-Emancipation) in 1890.
The name Emma Lazarus might not ring a bell, but you are certainly familiar with her work. She wrote the poem “The New Colossus”, which is engraved on the base of the Statue of Liberty. Lazarus published her first poetry collection when whe was just 18 years old (some of the poems had been written when she was just 14). In fact, Lazarus, who died in 1887 at the age of 38, would not live long enough to witness the the first World Zionist Congress, which took place in Basel, Switzerland, in August, 1897. That historic gathering was a direct result of the growing realization so clearly expressed by Lazarus that “all suggested solutions other than this [Zionism] of the Jewish problem are but temporary palliatives.”
In addition to “Zionism”, another new word came into being around the same time: “pogrom”. The first occurrence of the Russian word “погром”, which literally means “to smash, to destroy”, might go back as far as the 1821 anti-Jewish riots in the Ukrainian city of Odessa, then part of the Russian Empire. But the term gained much wider international usage only in 1881 when anti-Jewish violence spread throughout the Russian Empire following the assassination of Czar Alexander II. From 1881 to 1885 there were an estimated 250 separate instances of violent mob attacks on Russian Jewish communities.
It must be emphasized that while the Zionist movement certainly arose as a response to antisemitism, Zionism has always been more than simply “anti-antisemitism”. Zionists, like Emma Lazarus, have always stated very clearly what Zionism is for: the establishment of a Jewish state in the ancestral homeland of the Jewish people. In essence then, Zionism is simply the radical idea that the Jewish people have the same right to self-determination as everyone else.
In the decades following Larazus’ 1883 essay, Zionism transformed from an idea into a reality. By the early 1940s, Zionists had succeeded in creating the Yishuv, a thriving community of over half a million Jews living in Palestine. Having established this solid foundation, Zionists hoped that a large portion of Europe’s Jews would begin immigrating to Palestine. But most of those Jews would be dead before this could happen (indeed, many were already dead, for, as Shmuel Ettinger wrote in A History of the Jewish People, even in the early 1940s Zionists had “not yet grasped the scope and nature of the Holocaust“).
Finally in 1947 the United Nations passed (by a 2/3 supermajority) Resolution 181 to partition Palestine into a “Jewish State” and an “Arab State”. While Jews in Palestine and around the world celebrated, the Arabs of Palestine, along with Arabs and Muslims around the world, vowed to fight to prevent such a thing as a Jewish State from ever coming into existence.
And so there was war. The Jews of Palestine were outnumbered 20 to 1 by the Arab League, then comprising (along with the Palestinian Arabs) the seven nations of Egypt, Iraq, Transjordan, Lebanon, Saudi Arabia, Syria, and North Yemen. The only real ally that the Yishuv had at the time was Czechoslovakia, from which they purchased the arms that they used to win their independence and establish the nation of Israel. In addition to the arms (which included fighter aircraft, rifles, machine-guns, and ammunition), Czechoslovakia also trained many of the air and ground troops who fought in what would become known as the Israeli War of Independence.
A major differences between the Arab and Jewish armies was that the Jews had nowhere to retreat to. Their only choice was to stand and fight where they were. But the Jewish forces did not simply hold their positions. Having been attacked on every side by forces that vastly outnumbered them, the Jewish fighters (who would become the Israeli Defense Forces) advanced on all fronts. And as the Jewish forces advanced, the Arabs fled their homes and villages. Many fled even before the fighting had started, especially the more well to-do.
Finally in 1949 Israel signed separate armistice agreements with Egypt, Lebanon, Transjordan, and Syria. These armistice agreements brought an official end to the shooting war, and established what are now known as the “pre-1967” borders of Israel. But despite the armistice every Arab nation, and especially the Palestinians, remained officially in a state of war with Israel.
Not surprisingly, those who had chosen to fight to prevent Israel from coming into existence in the first place were not welcome in the sovereign state that they were still at war with. These Palestinians had made two choices: (1) to take up arms against Israel, and (2) to flee to safety when the fighting turned against them (an option, it should be repeated, not available to their Jewish opponents). Obviously, the Palestinians who fled never dreamed, unless they were insane, that they would simply be welcomed back.
But Arab Palestinians did dream of “return”. However, this was not based on any notion they would somehow be allowed to peacefully return to Israel. Instead, Palestinians dreamed, and continue to dream, of finishing their war with Israel. Only now it could no longer be a war to prevent Israel from coming into existence in the first place. Having failed to prevent the founding of Israel, Palestinians now committed themselves to eradicating Israel.
I first became interested in Buddhism and meditation when I was still just a kid back in the 70s, thanks to such influences as the “Kung Fu” TV series, Herman Hesse’s novel “Siddartha”, Roger Zelazny’s novel “The Lord of Light”, my older brother’s flirtation with the Hare Krishnas (everything my older brother did was automatically cool), etc. At the age of 17 I went so far as to take some classes in Transcendental Meditation and received my own Mantra. I was never very consistent about doing meditation though.
Also while still quite young I became a socialist. In high school my “activism” was limited to reading books and writing papers on subjects like Ho Chi Minh, the Haymarket Martyrs, and the Chinese Revolution. But when I went to college I finally found other like-minded leftists to work together with. I enthusiastically threw myself into the anti-apartheid movement, which had gained a lot of momentum thanks to the Soweto uprising and it’s brutal supression. I also worked for the ERA (remember the ERA??). I even got involved in labor solidarity (there was a strike by the Teamsters at a local Coca-Cola bottling plant). The list goes on.
After college I was able to graduate from labor solidarity to being an actual union member (in the Steelworkers and the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers, IBEW). I was very proud that my IBEW local passed a resolution calling for Martin Luther King’s birthday to be made a national holiday (this was back before it was). In this little bio I’m trying to stick to religion and politics, but I should mention that it was during these years that I met the love of my life, and to be honest I’m not at all sure how much the rest of this really matters compare to that. But life does not stop simply because one has found one’s true love. Quite the opposite.
Now, where was I? Oh, eventually I went back to school and got my PhD in Theoretical Physical Chemistry (focussing on chaos theory and non-linear systems). And then I went on to do a post-doc in protein x-ray crystallography. I managed to stay involved in things like abortion rights, the anti-nuclear power movement, and opposition to the first Gulf War. Then one fine day it dawned on me that as part of my training and work as a scientist I had learned quite a lot about computers. I also learned that being a Unix System Adminstrator paid, easily, twice as much as being a post-doc. And at this time in human history, if you could spell “Unix” you could become a Unix System Administrator. So I followed the money.
When the drums of war started beating again in 2002, I joined the DC Anti-War Network (they still have a website and a facebook page if you google them). I went to meetings, handed out flyers, made phone calls, went to demonstrations, served on subcommittees, and all the usual (and mostly boring) activities that make up “activism”. But by the summer of 2004 I was also a serious student of Zen (having started practicing Zen while still in graduate school in the late 80s). I was leading two weekly meditation groups, and also organizing weekend retreats 2 or 3 times a year while also attending retreats at my teacher’s retreat center 9 hours away in Kentucky. I saw no contradiction between being a Buddhist practitioner and being a political activist, but in practical terms I was stretched pretty thin. I made the decision to focus on my Buddhist practice, and, more specifically, I decided to commit myself to becoming a Zen teacher, whatever that might mean.
When I told my teacher that I had decided that I wanted to become a teacher myself, he said, more or less, that it was about time (I had been his student for well over a decade). It was something that he and I had discussed previously in very vague terms. But I was always uncomfortable with the subject. Having any kind of ambition to become a teacher just seemed patently “un-Zen” to me. But now the question presented itself simply as a practical matter of priorites. I had to make a choice, and there was no right or wrong answer. What did I truly want to do with my life? In large part what was going on was a realization of my own limitations. I could not do everything. Soon after this (still in 2004), I received “Inka”, which means different things in different Zen traditions, and I won’t go into the gory details about what it means in my tradition.
From 2004 on I maintained my political sympathies, but focussed my energies on the Dharma. As a teacher I have tried to avoid misusing whatever little “authority” I might have to promote my own political beliefs. I am well aware of the fact that Buddhists come in all political flavors, and I consider it my responsibility to embrace all my fellow practitioners as friends in the Dharma, regardless of their political views, or lack thereof. I always cringe when other teachers make a point of promoting their own political agenda. Of course these teachers inevitably claim that their political agenda somehow isn’t really “political”, rather they insist that their favorite political causes are “moral” issues that are thereby, somehow, “above politics” or something like that. I consider that to be semantic quibbling, at best. Of course one’s political beliefs are based on one’s moral beliefs. Where else could political beliefs come from? But if one acts on the basis of one’s beliefs, then that action is, necessarily, political.
Which brings us, finally, to the point. To feel compassion for the people of Gaza is a moral imperative. Anyone who does not feel compassion for victims of war cannot be considered a decent human being, let alone a good Buddhist. But to characterize Israel’s military response to the murderous terrorist attack of October 7 as “genocide” is a blatantly political act (and a gross abuse of the English language as well). And, moreover, to demand that Israel must unilaterally “cease fire”, while Hamas continues to wage war against Israel, is also, and quite obviously, political.
The same thing holds true for the claim that Israel is a “colonial settler state”, or that Israel is an “apartheid regime”. These are all political slogans, and very dubious ones at that. Not only are they political slogans, but they are the political slogans of the enemies of Israel: Hamas, Hezbollah, Iran, etc. I am not an enemy of Israel. In point of fact I strongly support Israel. I am a Zionist.
I still don’t care for mixing religion and politics. As an individual I am not shy about expressing my political views, but, as I said before, as a Zen teacher I feel obliged to proceed with great caution when expressing my personal political beliefs “as a Buddhist”. Obviously the two cannot be kept completely separate, but I do think they should be kept as separate as possible.
But there is now a group of Buddhists who are very aggressively promoting what I truly believe to be antisemitic ideas in the name of “engaged Buddhism”. That is something I cannot be silent about. As a Buddhist.
And so I started this blog for two primary reasons: (1) to make a very public statement condemning antisemitic attacks on Israel and the Jewish people that are being made in the name of the Buddhadharma, and (2) to educate people about what antisemitism really is.
You might see the name “Sanduleak Anandamath” on this blog — that is one of the nomes de plume I use on the Internet. My Buddhist name is Cheong Se Do (清世道), and my “real” name is Curt Steinmetz.
Like the old labor song says: “Which Side Are You On?”
Contemporary examples of antisemitism in public life, the media, schools, the workplace, and in the religious sphere could, taking into account the overall context, include, but are not limited to:
Calling for, aiding, or justifying the killing or harming of Jews in the name of a radical ideology or an extremist view of religion.
Making mendacious, dehumanizing, demonizing, or stereotypical allegations about Jews as such or the power of Jews as collective — such as, especially but not exclusively, the myth about a world Jewish conspiracy or of Jews controlling the media, economy, government or other societal institutions.
Accusing Jews as a people of being responsible for real or imagined wrongdoing committed by a single Jewish person or group, or even for acts committed by non-Jews.
Denying the fact, scope, mechanisms (e.g. gas chambers) or intentionality of the genocide of the Jewish people at the hands of National Socialist Germany and its supporters and accomplices during World War II (the Holocaust).
Accusing the Jews as a people, or Israel as a state, of inventing or exaggerating the Holocaust.
Accusing Jewish citizens of being more loyal to Israel, or to the alleged priorities of Jews worldwide, than to the interests of their own nations.
Denying the Jewish people their right to self-determination, e.g., by claiming that the existence of a State of Israel is a racist endeavor.
Applying double standards by requiring of Israel behavior not expected or demanded of any other democratic nation.
Using the symbols and images associated with classic antisemitism (e.g., claims of Jews killing Jesus or blood libel) to characterize Israel or Israelis.
Drawing comparisons of contemporary Israeli policy to that of the Nazis.
Holding Jews collectively responsible for actions of the state of Israel.