When I was growing up in the U.S. in the 1970s, I would often need to fill out some official form that asked for race or ethnicity. I always marked the box for “white” and sometimes “Caucasian.” I didn’t think much of it at the time. My Jewish identity wasn’t yet particularly developed. Of course, I was white. What else could I be?

That’s come back to bite me – and Jews everywhere – big time.

To be white these days “is a kind of slander,” writes The Jerusalem Post’s Seth Franzman. Jews have been transformed into “white Jews” which Franzman correctly notes is, at its core, “anti-Jewish.” 

Muslims in Albania are not called “white Muslims,” he points out. Nor are there any “white Hindus,” “white Buddhists” or “white Catholics.” 

“Only Jews are called ‘white Jews,’” Franzman stresses, which forces them into the ‘white category in America, the category that means ‘majority’ and ‘privileged.’” As a result, in some American circles, identifying as Jewish “has become synonymous with ‘white supremacy,’” he says.

That amalgamation is “obscene,” writes former Jerusalem Post editor and current The New York Times columnist Bret Stephens, in that it “lumps Jewish Americans with the sort of people who marched in Charlottesville [in 2017] chanting ‘Jews will not replace us.’” 

Tell that to Rebecca Vilkomerson, executive director of Jewish Voice for Peace.

“We white Jews especially need to recognize that centering our own status as victims here is a power move, as well as a way to avoid self-reflection on our relative status in a white supremacist world,” Vilkomerson tweeted last year. 

“The United States today is undergoing a cultural transformation as radical as the one last seen in the 1960s,” writes Stephens. Among the most disturbing changes: “Race is replacing ethnicity as a defining marker of group and personal identification.”

Nor is it limited to American Jews. Israelis are now being castigated as “white.” And if Israeli Jews are white, then who are the people of color that these “white Jews” must be oppressing through their white supremacy? The Palestinians, of course.

Daniel Gordis, whose most recent book is Saving Israel: How the Jewish People Can Win a War That May Never End, refers to a letter penned by 93 American rabbinical students after Israel’s early summer operation in Gaza, in which the authors assert that American Jews are “part of a racial reckoning [that asks] ‘how are we complicit with racial violence” in Israel and Palestine?

Gordis responds: “Whatever one wants to call what is happening in Israel, or what happens periodically with Hamas, it is not racial violence.” Rather, the desire to see Israel as a reflection of America’s unique history with racial injustice is a “wholly Ashkenazi take” which would be ironic if it weren’t so ignorant, since the majority of Israel’s Jews are not Ashkenazim but Mizrachim who would never consider themselves “white.” 

Jews who hail from the Middle East, who were expelled from the countries in which they had lived for centuries and whose appearance is often indistinguishable from other non-Jews in the region, are not, as Tablet’s Liel Leibowitz calls, “white passing” or “functionally white.”

“As an Israeli, and the son of an Iraqi Jewish mother and North African Jewish father, it’s gut-wrenching to witness this shift,” laments Hen Mazzig, a senior fellow at the Tel Aviv Institute, in the Los Angeles Times.

But if a simplistic black vs. white, oppressor vs. oppressed explains “everything” in America, notes Gordis, “it must explain everything that’s wrong with Israel too.” 

If the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is about race, Gordis posits, “There are not two sides with narratives that need to be heard, but rather, one side good, one side evil. [So] if you’re a Zionist, you’re a racist.”

“Israel, like America, is deeply messed up,” admits journalist and author Matti Friedman. It’s just “messed up in completely different ways.” 

Western observers “are often tempted to see foreign countries as mirrors of their own, because it makes a story more compelling for members of their audience, who are interested—who isn’t?—mainly in themselves,” Friedman continues. “So, Narendra Modi of India is Donald Trump, France’s problem is racial inequality, and Dutch conservatives are Republicans.”

“In reality, Israel is one of the most multicultural societies on earth, composed of immigrants from around the world,” notes Susie Linfield in an excellent analysis in The Atlantic entitled “Palestine isn’t Ferguson,” referring to the riots that erupted in that Missouri town following the fatal shooting of Michael Brown. 

How did we get here? 

The U.S. has abandoned the proverbial “melting pot” metaphor for “a country of unyielding binaries, in which people are grouped as being either ‘of color’ or ‘white,’” writes Stephens. “The result is that the vast majority of Jewish Americans…are being shunted into a racial category with which few have consciously identified [and]which is alien to Jewish cultural, religious, and political traditions.”

“The story of the Jewish minority in Europe and in the Islamic world, which is the story of Israel, has nothing to do with race in America,” Friedman writes. “My grandmother’s parents and siblings were shot outside their village in Poland by people the same color as them.”

Every country, every conflict and every individual should be judged on its own merits. This destructive binary applies an unfair and inappropriate American lens on Israel and the conflict. That won’t help us come to any kind of an equitable resolution. It will only lead the players who have the most at stake to dig their heels in further. 

Getting there will require nuance, empathy and intellectual rigor. Sadly, I’m not sure if that’s something Americans know how to do anymore. 

Palestine/Ferguson image from NFG – Neighborhood Funders Group.

I first wrote about Jews not being white for The Jerusalem Post.


When I was a senior in high school, I had a weekly column in the local newspaper, the San Bruno Recorder-Progress. By not writing for the school’s own paper, I hoped to cover more controversial topics.

Brian in 1978 at his desk reading the important news of the day

Growing up in the tolerant, pluralistic San Francisco Bay Area, I wanted to write a piece that would be pro-LGBTQ+. 

But the column backfired big time.

I don’t remember the exact words I wrote, but it was something along the lines of, “the head cheerleader or the high school football team’s quarterback could be gay,” so curb your righteous indignation. 

But the column was read differently: “Watch out! They’re everywhere!

Looking back, my choice of words was indelicate, to say the least. But it was too late. The newspaper received a scathing letter from San Francisco’s main LGBTQ+ newspaper, urging me to get therapy. The Recorder-Progress subsequently fired me. 

To use contemporary language, I had been canceled.

You would think I would have learned from my high school indiscretion, but a year later, I was editing the newsletter for a program I attended at UCLA. We had a suggestion box where fellow students could submit jokes. One such attempt was a crude, misogynist one-liner. My 18-year-old self either thought, “controversy is good!” or was hopelessly clueless. I published it. 

The backlash came swift. Canceled again.

I’m not here to defend my youthful tactlessness – and I hope I would never write such things today. But it did give me a sensitivity to the power of words, a power that, in 2021, is being turned against public figures by those who feel offended or triggered.

And while there is a lot of horrible language that deserves to be challenged and even canceled, it has created a climate of fear for writers like me. If I posit something particularly provocative, could I get canceled again? So, I hold back (even if it seems I’m habitually over the top).

Others have not been so fortunate. 

Former New York Times journalist Bari Weiss regularly rails against cancel culture, featuring on her website and podcast professors like Portland State University’s Peter Boghossian and Dorian Abbot, of the University of Chicago, both of whom were canceled for purported “wrong-speak” on campus.  

Abbot, for example, who has advocated race-neutral university admissions policies, was prevented from speaking on his actual field of expertise, “as if his opinions on racial preferences irrevocably taint his climate science work,” notes John McWhorter in The New York Times.

That has led to “an epidemic of self-silencing,” Weiss writes in the Deseret News. She quotes a law school student who wrote that, “self-censorship is the norm, not the exception. I self-censor even when talking to some of my best friends for fear of word getting around.”

A study by the Cato Institute found that 62% of Americans say they self-censor.

For the most part, we should view that as a good thing. Social media is ugly enough as it is. Imagine if people didn’t self-censor at all!

But I fear that we are losing important voices that can no longer be heard because they said or wrote or did inappropriate things in their pasts. 

What do you do with someone who has singular gifts but whose language or actions are egregious? Earlier this year, Dr. Seuss Enterprises announced it was canceling the publication of six of the celebrated author’s books “due to racist and insensitive imagery.”

Or how about notorious antisemite Roald Dahl? Do we cancel Dahl’s oeuvre entirely? Put trigger warnings on the covers of his books, like HBO did when it repackaged Gone with the Wind for the woke generation?

When it comes to sexual abuse, the discussion becomes even more confounding. 

The HBO documentary Allen vs. Farrow goes into great detail about Woody Allen’s alleged sexual abuse of his adopted daughter, Dylan. The program pulls no punches: From the very start, it makes an unflinching case that Allen is indeed guilty.

Allen subsequently lost a book publisher and Amazon terminated a four-movie deal it had with the director.

Woody Allen may be a serial abuser and, as the documentary reveals, a serial jerk, but we have lost a creative voice, someone who I loved growing up. It’s not only his future work – many will no longer even watch Allen’s past movies. Can I?

Former Haaretz columnist Ari Shavit aggressively hit on journalist Danielle Berrin and other women, leading to his resignation from the paper. Yet he also wrote My Promised Land, one of the most astute tomes on modern Israel. Earlier this year, Shavit came out with a new book, which was dismissed by many out of hand, not on the merits of his arguments but due to his behaviors off the printed page. 

Then there’s “intersectionality” which has created an environment where unashamed Zionists – and all Jews by extension – are excluded from participating in progressive causes. The recent brouhaha over Sunrise DC’s disinvitation of three Jewish advocacy groups to a rally focused not on the politics of the Middle East but climate change drives home the fact that, as Weiss laments, if you want to not be canceled, “You need to disavow Jewish power and you need to disavow Israel.”

The answer to the cancelation conundrum is balance. Some behaviors and speech are clearly beyond the pale. We should never countenance racism, antisemitism, homophobia or sexual abuse. 

Other actions and writings, however, demand more nuance – something that’s sorely lacking in today’s extreme political climate – and even the possibility of the offender doing teshuva (repentance) provided it is sincerely proffered.

Can we get there in today’s increasingly polarized world? I’m not sure. But what other choice do we have but to try?

I first shared my cancel culture experience at The Jerusalem Post.


“You’re suffering from ‘phone dysmorphia,’” my therapist told me as I described the experience of using my new iPhone. 

My iPhone 13 Pro

Phone dysmorphia is not a real thing. You won’t find it described in the DSM. It’s a metaphor rooted in “body dysmorphic disorder” (BDD), first identified in 1891.

The Cambridge Dictionary describes dysmorphia as when “someone falsely believes there is something wrong with the size or shape of their body.” It comes from the Greek for “misshapenness.”

BDD is a distortion of perception that occurs when what you see when you look at your body in the mirror is not how your body appears to an objective third party. In the most typical case, you may be trim and fit but see yourself as overweight. 

Facial dysmorphia,” focuses on perceived flaws involving one’s skin, hair, nose, eyes, mouth, lips, jaw and chin. Michael Jackson’s obsession with plastic surgery, it is suspected, was caused by facial dysmorphia.

Selfie dysmorphia” has been in the news lately following the revelations by Facebook whistleblower Frances Haugen that the social media giant was aware that one in three teenage girls who use Facebook-owned Instagram find the platform contributes to a negative body image.

My own “diagnosis” of phone dysmorphia was an attempt by my therapist to help me understand my surprisingly negative reaction to my new iPhone 13 Pro. 

When I picked up the phone – which is wonderful by almost all measures – I was shocked by how heavy it was compared with my previous device – a nearly seven-year-old iPhone 6S – with its much smaller screen and battery. 

“I see a small phone, one that you can easily hold in your hand,” my therapist noted. “You see something closer to a tablet.”

While “phone dysmorphia” is clearly a construct, it got me wondering: What other types of dysmorphia might there be, allegorically speaking? What can we learn if we reimagine modern society as suffering from “dysmorphia of the social body?” And does this point to any way to heal?

Here are a few select metaphorical dysmorphias.

Science dysmorphia. This is where something has clear science behind it, but you see the situation entirely differently. Take climate change. As extreme weather wreaks havoc around the world, there’s no longer any question that human behavior is fueling the flames. And yet, some people, disputing evidence supported by 97% of all climate scientists, insist that global warming is “natural” and there is no connection to, say, carbon emissions or cow farts.

Health dysmorphia. Here’s where we get into vaccines, which save countless lives, have few side effects and are the best way to break out of the current pandemic. Yet a vocal minority see them as unproven, dangerous or lethal. (For some reason, the same dysmorphia doesn’t apply to other medical treatments for Covid-19 that are even newer, such as monoclonal antibodies.) 

Object dysmorphia. This is what happened to me with my iPhone. Other examples: Our new air conditioner does a great job of cooling off our bedroom, but it’s noisy. Guess which aspect I focus on? Or you have a perfectly fine house, but in your mind, it’s too small. Object dysmorphia feeds envy: You may have a lovely car, but you can’t appreciate it when your neighbor’s new Tesla is taunting you from across the driveway. 

Political dysmorphia. Donald Trump and Benjamin Netanyahu both insist they are still the leaders of their respective countries (Bibi reportedly demands that his Likud followers address him as “Mr. Prime Minister”). The reality is they lost their elections. Political dysmorphia rears its head when you vote for politicians or parties believing they stand for one thing when an objective outsider could tell you that the opposite is plainly the case.

Religious dysmorphia. You see your religion as “true,” so other religions (and different denominations within the same faith) must necessarily be false. The result is almost always a fight, sometimes even war. This may be the most pernicious kind of metaphorical dysmorphia. 

Expanding the definition of dysmorphia to the social body is more than just a semantic exercise – we have reached a point where disagreements have become so toxic, they feel like a real disease. So, let’s treat them that way. 

The most effective way to treat BDD is through “exposure therapy,” in which the person suffering is slowly exposed to his or her fears in a safe environment. 

Exposure is what’s missing in the modern world. Social media is often described as an “echo chamber” because its algorithms only show us what we are predisposed to agree with. Exposure to other points of view can be the cure.

If you only follow Israeli politics, for example, it might seem quite normal for a prime minister indicted for bribery to stay in his job pending the outcome of a trial. But beyond our borders, when police raided the office of Austrian Chancellor Sebastian Kurz as part of an ongoing corruption investigation, Kurz resigned.

When my wife, Jody, and I traveled to Norway several years ago, we learned that most of the workers in the hospitality industry were from neighboring Sweden. Young Norwegians consider such employment beneath them. We never would have known about that if we had not visited the country. 

Unless you’re stuck in a tourist “bubble” (think: cruise ships excursions), travel is one of the most effective forms of exposure therapy.

I don’t mean to dismiss the seriousness of BDD. But by applying “dysmorphia” in an unorthodox way to not just the physical but the social body, we gain new tools that may help us address some of the more vexing problems of contemporary life.

I first created my list of social dysmorphias for The Jerusalem Post.


Why are so many people in the wellness industry – chiropractors, alternative medicine practitioners, nutritionists and massage therapists – opposed to vaccines and basic science?

Louise Hay (PRNewsfoto/Hay House)

Blame it on Louise Hay.

Hay’s 1984 book You Can Heal Your Life is a load of crock – unsubstantiated pseudoscience at its worst, dangerous in its implications and insidious victim blaming. 

Hay proposes that our thoughts create our physical reality and, while clearly there is a connection between mind and body, Hay goes too far.

The author has created an exhaustive (and exhausting) list of diseases correlated with what mental attitudes supposedly cause them.

Heart attack: Squeezing all the joy out of the heart in favor of money or position.

Rheumatoid arthritis: Feeling victimized, lack of love, chronic bitterness, resentment and a deep criticism of authority.

Bladder problems: Anxiety, fear of letting go and – wait for it – being “pissed off.”

Cancer: A deep secret or grief eating away at the self, longstanding resentments, carrying hatreds.

As someone suffering from cancer, I find Hay’s attempts to shift the cause for my illness to my alleged negative thoughts and behaviors outrageous. But it was mainly an annoyance when wellness-oriented individuals would exhort me to have a more positive attitude in order to “cure” my cancer. 

Now, the wellness movement Hay begat has come back to bite us and the result is devastating and deadly. 

Hay’s books have sold more than 30 million copies worldwide, but you don’t hear so much about the author herself these days (she died in 2017). Still, “trace elements of her philosophy survive when it comes to the wellness industry and Covid,” writes Brigid Delaney in The Guardian.

“The randomness of illness – and the ultimate certainty of death – is far too frightening for some to contemplate,” Delaney explains. “So, they rely on a fiction which makes them feel safe, superior and unconsciously immortal. Hay’s fiction is this: Stop acting like a child and you’ll cure your kidney problems. Her wellness counterparts today say, ‘Eat organic food, do yoga, don’t consume the mainstream media, and you won’t get sick from Covid.’”

Put another way: If we can control our bodies and our thoughts, then our natural immune system should be the best defense against Covid-19, not some newfangled vaccine. If your immune system is working properly, that’s all you need. 

“When this corner of the wellness industry refuses to be vaccinated,” continues Delaney, “it is not primarily out of fear of the vaccine’s side effects or because it was developed too quickly, but more likely comes from a place of arrogance: Those who are well don’t need the vaccine because they have Rolls Royce immune systems. Instead the only people who get sick and die from Covid have a pre-existing illness, or are in some way physically deficient, or have succumbed to the immune system-weakening emotion of fear.”

Dr. Vinay Prasad, an associate professor in the department of epidemiology and biostatistics at the University of California San Francisco, speaking on Bari Weiss’s podcastHonestly, notes that vaccine resistance often has to do with people feeling a lack of control over their lives – at work, in politics, their finances. So, they latch onto something, anything, where they can say, that’s enough, it’s my body and it can fight this without the need for medical mandates.

The implication of this way of thinking – that my immune system is compromised, and I am in some way deficient because of my cancer (substitute for others obesity, diabetes or high blood pressure) – is deeply disturbing. 

Let me make this clear: I didn’t get cancer because I was carrying hatreds and longstanding resentment.

Neither did my friend Sarah, a super healthy eater and vegan, who nevertheless is fighting a tough battle against breast cancer. 

Or my wife, Jody, for that matter, who hoped to knock down her high cholesterol by going vegan. It didn’t work – her LDL levels are still high – although she’s happy about not eating meat for ideological reasons.

This is not to say that diet and attitude are not important. Of course, they are. Fear and stress stimulate the hormone cortisol which has been shown to have a negative impact on the body. There was also a study published in the scientific journal Gut in September 2021 that found that “a diet characterised by healthy plant-based foods was associated with lower risk and severity of Covid-19.”

That’s a far cry from vaccine refusal, though.

And yet, the attitudes central to the wellness industry, given a boost by Hay’s series of best-selling malarky, lead to remarkable insensitivity and illogic. 

Jonathan Neman, the CEO of the Sweetgreen chain of salad bars, for example, posted on LinkedIn that “78% of hospitalizations due to Covid-19 are obese and overweight people. Is there an underlying problem that perhaps we have not given enough attention to? No vaccine or mask will save us.”

What should one do instead? Oh yes, eat more salad! 

How about this: We could all eat well, think positive thoughts and get vaccinated.

Don’t get me wrong: There’s nothing inherently problematic with wanting to be well. But it’s not an alternative to public health measures such as Green Passes, social distancing, and yes, vaccination. This is also not intended to be a blanket indictment of everyone in the wellness industry, many of whom are vaccinated and science positive.

Louise Hay was a proponent of an extreme form of magical thinking, not sound science. Covid-19 doesn’t care if you eat organic or if you “believe” you won’t get sick.

I’d much rather rely on a vaccine than the calumny of a self-help guru.

I first lambasted the wellness industry for science denial at The Jerusalem Post.


The response to my column, “The narcissism of anti-vaxxers” (August 27, 2021) came fast and furious – and was not particularly kind. I’ll spare you the brunt of the comments, except for one in particular that has stuck with me.

Fake news of a different kind

“We have no way to know what is truly â€˜false’ and what is truly ‘true,’” the letter writer stated, referring to my rant against science skeptics who deny the efficacy of the vaccines. “Anyone can say anything they want. Just because a website says something is false doesn’t make it false. Who knows who’s paying them off?”

Really? Is there no way to differentiate between truth and falsehoods in today’s hyper-polarized media environment?

For those of us trying desperately to navigate the astonishing amount of pandemic-related breaking news, I’ve compiled an 11-point guide to becoming a better media consumer. My hope is that this can help contain the plague of medical antagonism that is driving communities, friends and families apart.

1. Check the domain. Is an article posted on a site like “abcnews.com.co?” Sites peddling falsehoods often add “co” at the end. The Boston Tribune (now shut down) sounded serious but only listed a Gmail address as a contact. 

2. Does a news item seem too good to be true? Is it from a site you’ve never heard of? Do a Google search for the same article and see if any mainstream news sites come up. Or explore other articles on the same site – if any of them seem outright fabricated (“Are globalists controlling the weather to cause agro-terrorism?” is one I found), that’s a sign that you should steer clear. 

3. Does an article use provocative language? Any site or article that calls Covid-19 “the flu” has an agenda. A site using all caps in headlines (“REVEALED!” “GENOCIDE” “DEAD”) should immediately be suspect. Read past the clickbait; headlines are often written to bring in revenue and may bear little resemblance to the story itself.

4. Does a news item reference a study that has since been clarified or debunked? That’s the case with Dr. Ryan Cole, a prominent Covid anti-vaxxer in Idaho who, in a widely viewed viral video, cites a 2018 paper that he says claims, pre-Covid, that mRNA vaccines cause cancer and auto-immune diseases. The author of the paper subsequently responded to Cole, noting that the research he conducted does not support such claims at all. 

5. Is there a financial incentive? Dr. Sherri Tenpenny, an Ohio-based osteopath, runs webinars on why people “should not take the shot.” The cost: $165. Her in-person “Freedom Crusade” event in August had a ticket price of $57. The IRS says she owes more than $500,000 in back taxes. After Tenpenny fraudulently claimed that Covid-19 vaccines “magnetize” recipients, YouTube banned her. 

6. Do not pay attention to what celebrities think about science or public health. When talk show host Joe Rogen contracted Covid, he claimed that the controversial drug Ivermectin had cured him in a matter of days. While there are a few small studies supporting the use of Ivermectin for Covid (including one from my own travel medicine doctor, Prof. Eli Schwartz, in Israel), the overwhelming majority of epidemiologists and health organizations have cautioned against its use.

7. Similarly, don’t listen to politicians pontificating on stuff they don’t understand. U.S. Senator Rand Paul, an ophthalmologist, not an epidemiologist by training, implored in a recent video, “It’s time for us to resist. They can’t arrest all of us. We don’t have to accept the mandates, lockdowns and harmful policies of the petty tyrants and bureaucrats.” Like Sherri Tenpenny, Rand was suspended from YouTube for his Covid militancy.

8. Watch out for wild, over-the-top claims. Ryan Cole insists that vaccines, social distancing and masks are all unnecessary. All you need is Vitamin D, which he says can decrease the risk of hospitalization for Covid-19 by a whopping 90%. That sounds wonderful and, midway through the pandemic, my own doctor’s office sent out an email recommending that all their patients begin taking Vitamin D as a preventative. But repeated studies haven’t backed up Vitamin D as a Covid therapy. I trust the Mayo Clinic over Ryan Cole.

9. Check your biases. Do you want what you’re reading to be true because it agrees with what you already believe or what you want to happen? Or do you want it to be false because it’s about someone or something you love or have voted for? 

10. Use online fact-checking tools. FactCheck.org (from the University of Pennsylvania’s Annenberg Public Policy Center) and NewsGuard can help determine if a site or story is legit. The latter features an interactive quiz to test your Covid myth-busting prowess. For example, “Based solely on domain names, can you tell which of the following sites – Vaccines.gov, VaccineImpact.com, Immunize.org or ScientificAmerican.com – is an unreliable source?” (It’s VaccineImpact.) 

11. Finally, did a story make you angry? Then it was probably designed that way (and likely not true). If you’re not sure something is real, absolutely never, ever share it on social media – every comment or re-tweet is essentially a thumbs up for Internet algorithms to amplify the message. 

It’s immensely frustrating to have to look beyond the headlines all the time to figure out what’s real and what’s not these days. Being on guard doesn’t make for pleasant media consumption. But when confronted by what journalist and political scientist David Rothkopf has dubbed an “infodemic,” we all have to step up our game – or risk getting sent to a time-out or, worse, a round of sudden death.

I originally tried to help sort fact from fiction for The Jerusalem Post.

Thanks to some of the great sources with lists on how to spot fake (pandemic) news including: Cornell University and NPR’s On the Media.

Photo by Kajetan Sumila on Unsplash


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Tim Wise describes anti-vaxxers as sociopathic, sadistic and homicidal. I call them narcissists, who see everything through the lens of “What’s in it for me?”

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Is it OK to have schadenfreude (the German expression for “pleasure derived from someone else’s misfortune”) when an anti-vaxxer contracts Covid-19? The Internet seems to think so.

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