Hello, and happy Friday! If you don’t inhabit the Israel-Palestine Twittersphere, you might have missed this week’s meltdown over the Ben & Jerry’s announcement that it will no longer sell its ice cream in the occupied Palestinian territories. Some might call it a settle-mint freeze.
I wrote about the decision (see below), which poses a relatively pint-sized problem for Israel, as Ben & Jerry’s will continue to sell its products within the country’s democratic and internationally-recognized borders. But that didn’t stop Israeli politicians (not to mention a couple of U.S. senators) from railing against the move as being anti-Israel, anti-Semitic, and even “a new form of terrorism.” If you needed further proof that the Middle East has no chill…
In podcast news: I joined The Bunker this week to discuss England’s great reopening, the protests in Cuba, and more. You can tune in via your favorite podcast app or by clicking here.
What I’ve written
No company does progressive politics quite like Ben & Jerry’s. I know this because I’ve read Jordyn Holman’s great cover story in Bloomberg Businessweek about how the company perfected its recipe for corporate activism. Still, I didn’t expect that the ice-cream maker’s decision to cease sales in the Israeli-occupied Palestinian territories would lead to such a meltdown.
I wrote about the backlash and what it reveals about the growing deviation between how the world sees Israel and how the country sees itself. Keep reading here
In other words, Ben & Jerry’s decision “has no material impact on Israel whatsoever,” Dahlia Scheindlin, an Israel-based pollster and political strategist, told me. But it does have a political one—and, to the Israelis who feel the need to defend their sovereignty, an existential one. By ending its business in the occupied territories, the company has effectively refused to profit from or legitimize the status quo in the region, a status quo that Israel is deeply invested in protecting. It has also made clear that it will recognize Israel only within its democratic borders. “It’s all symbolic,” Scheindlin said, “but symbolism is huge.”
What I’ve read
The Uyghur poet Tahir Hamut Izgil’s powerful and haunting tale about escaping genocide in Xinjiang is the best thing you’ll read today, this week, this month (The Atlantic)
As we waited in Boston’s Logan Airport for our connecting flight to Washington, D.C., I tried to imagine our new life in America. My thoughts, though, kept returning to our home. The people we cared for most were suffering still, left behind in that tortured land. We would never be free from the guilt of our survival.
This astonishing and beautifully-written long read on the murder of Emmett Till, who should be turning 80 this weekend (The Atlantic)
Our eyes adjusted to the darkness of the barn where Emmett Till was tortured by a group of grown men. … I learned about the barn last year and have since made repeated visits, alone and with groups, once with members of Till’s family. Over and over, I drove from my home in the Mississippi hill country back into the gothic flatland where I was born. The barn’s existence conjures a complex set of reactions: It is a mourning bench for Black Americans, an unwelcome mirror for white Americans. It both repels and demands attention.
This piece on the four reasons why everyone —including vaccinated folks—should keep their masks on in indoor public spaces (The Atlantic)
My pivot back to masks says nothing about my continued confidence in the vaccines and what they’re capable of. But although vaccines are an excellent tool, they are also an imperfect one, and they’ll perform differently depending on the context in which they’re used.
Apologies for The Atlantic overload this week! Here’s a handy trick for avoiding the dreaded paywall.
What I’m thinking about
This extraordinary blast from the past (feat. men talking over the Queen and Her Majesty cheerfully telling Ted Heath that he’s “expendable.”)
Until next time,
Yasmeen