I have always felt uneasy about demonstrations.

Not because protest is illegitimate — sometimes it is necessary — but because crowds possess their own weather systems. Emotions gather force inside them. Certainties harden and nuance evaporates. One can begin by defending human dignity and end, almost without noticing, in the intoxicating pleasures of denunciation.

I have seen too much of that in my lifetime. Too much theatrical rage. Too much moral vulgarity. Too many intelligent people surrendering themselves to the narcotic comforts of collective certainty.

Which is why I hesitate even now.

And yet silence has its seductions too.

I do not know how much of it is true in full, in part, exaggerated, insufficiently verified, or tragically accurate.

And that uncertainty matters.

Not because such crimes are impossible. Human beings are capable of terrible acts in war, occupation, imprisonment, and in acts of revenge. Israelis are not exempt from humanity’s capacity for cruelty. Nor should any real abuse be hidden or excused out of tribal loyalty.

But when accusations reach this level of horror — particularly accusations directed at the Jewish state in a historical moment already saturated with rage toward Israel and, increasingly, toward Jews themselves — the burden on journalism becomes extraordinarily heavy: to illuminate without inflaming, to investigate without surrendering to moral theater.

As I read Kristof’s piece, I found myself asking questions less about politics than about atmosphere.

What happens to a society when such imagery enters public consciousness repeatedly, relentlessly, emotionally? What distinctions remain in the reader’s mind........

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)