Rich Lyons, chancellor of UC Berkeley, testifies before the House Committee on Education & Workforce on July 15, about antisemitism in higher education. ((Win McNamee / Getty Images)) Rich Lyons, chancellor of UC Berkeley, testifies before the House Committee on Education & Workforce on July 15, about antisemitism in higher education. ((Win McNamee / Getty Images)) © (Win McNamee / Getty Images) For too long, the debate over antisemitism on college campuses has bogged down over whether anti-Zionism is antisemitism. Endless ink has been spilled over the distinction (or not) between the two. Last week, in their testimony to the House Committee on Education & Workforce, UC Berkeley Chancellor Rich Lyons, City University of New York Chancellor Félix V. Matos Rodríguez and Georgetown interim President Robert M. Groves cut through all this academic hairsplitting. “Is denying the Jewish people their rights to self-determination … antisemitism? Yes or no?” asked Rep. Burgess Owens (R-Utah). All three university leaders replied simply and unequivocally: “Yes.” Ways To Give - Connect With The Fellowship Ad Ways To Give - Connect With The Fellowship ifcj.org Learn more call to action icon The right to Jewish self-determination is a textbook definition of Zionism. The clarity with which the university officials pegged anti-Zionism as antisemitic is much-needed and long overdue. For years, progressives have raised consciousness about the need to recognize and repudiate bigoted dog whistles, microaggressions and misgendering. Yet many of those same progressives have been shockingly silent when it comes to decrying the macroaggressions of antisemitism that have become increasingly commonplace at anti-Israel protests. They’ve insisted that the now-familiar chants — “From the river to the sea, Palestine shall be free!” “We don’t want no two states! We want all of ’48!”— are not antisemitic, just anti-Zionist, with some who are Jewish concurring and providing cover. Yet just as there can be “racism without racists” — that is, racist results without racist intents — so too can there be antisemitism without antisemites. Not all anti-Zionists are antisemites, but anti-Zionism, in its most basic form — denying to the Jewish people the right to self-determination, a right recognized as inherent to countless others, including Palestinians — is itself a form of antisemitism. Jewish nonprofits - Give Monthly - Connect With The Fellowship Ad Jewish nonprofits - Give Monthly - Connect With The Fellowship help.ifcj.org Learn more call to action icon Moreover, because anti-Zionism singles out the Jewish state alone for elimination — among the dozens of ethnonational or ethnoreligious states in the world, including myriad Islamic ones — that, too, makes it a form of antisemitism. Declaring anti-Zionism to be antisemitic, as the university leaders did, was an important development for the dignity of Jewish students, one that echoed and amplified a federal district court’s preliminary injunction last year that said UCLA could not allow anti-Israel activists to exclude “Jewish students … because they refused to denounce their faith,” of which Zionism was a central component, from parts of the campus, as happened during protests against the Israel-Hamas war. Zionism, at its core, is a belief in Israel's right to sovereignty as a Jewish state on part of the ancestral homeland of the Jewish people. That's a millennia-old article of faith for Judaism, as reflected, for example, in daily Jewish prayers, the Passover Seder and the ritual of breaking a glass at weddings. Those claiming the mantle of Zionism for far more aggressive or exclusionary aims don’t change that core fact, nor do those treating Zionism as a uniquely malevolent expression of national liberation or nation-building. Top 1% Realtors In The Valley - Luxury Real Estate & Auctions Ad Top 1% Realtors In The Valley - Luxury Real Estate & Auctions scottandjamesproperties.com Learn more call to action icon Recognizing anti-Zionism as a manifestation of antisemitism is an important step forward for combating the discrimination and ostracism that many Jewish students have experienced for expressing their support for Israel’s right to exist in the face of those who call for its elimination. Such recognition, in turn, can help concentrate campus conflicts about Israel and Palestinians on what matters most: fruitful debate over Israel’s actions (including its prosecution of the war in Gaza) rather than fruitless shouting matches over Israel’s existence and neo-McCarthyite litmus tests (“Are you now or have you ever been a Zionist?”). As this happens, we would be well-served to cease and desist using the terms “Zionism” and “anti-Zionism,” except as historical artifacts. After all, “Zionism” refers to the aspiration to create a nation that is now nearly 80 years old. And anti-Zionism thus perpetuates a fantasy that Israel's long-settled place among the family of nations is still open for debate. It isn't, any more than, say, the existence of Russia under Putin or the United States under Trump, however much we might deplore their policies, is open for debate. Leadgen logo LA Times Discover the West Coast Perspective $1 for 4 months Subscribe Now We owe the Berkeley, CUNY and Georgetown leaders a great debt of gratitude for helping to elevate the intractable campus conflicts about Israel and the Palestinians to a higher plane. Mark Brilliant is an associate professor of history and American studies at UC Berkeley.

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Finally: 2. x = xyy and y = yzz - These recursive relationships hint at self-similar structures, like fractals or looped temporal states: - If x = xyy, time's state depends on itself and its future. - If y = yzz, then the present is influenced by echoes of what hasn’t happened yet. - 🔁 This feels like time travel not as physical motion, but as conceptual simultaneity. Each “now” is a composite of past-future echoes.

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Perfect. That’s exactly the right flavor.The tall thin man should feel like a courteous but predatory host — soothing on the surface, but every reassurance has a hairline crack. His comfort is a beautiful lie, and the reader should never quite buy it. Even when Alice starts to waver, the prose keeps the unease sharp.Here’s the next section, written with this in mind. It advances the plot (moving us toward Act 2) while leaning hard into false assurance, the ironic name, and creeping doubt:Alice kept her back against the wallpapered maps, heart hammering against the cold mirror in her fist. The tall thin man remained kneeling, arm still extended, the faint red stain from her crumb-heart fading from his palm like a polite apology.“Easy now, little runner,” he murmured, voice soft as dry leaves on violin strings. “You’re safe here. This is Less Wicked Land, after all. No screaming queens. No vanishing cats with too many teeth. Just the grass, the music, and someone who has waited seventeen times to walk beside you. Isn’t that… kinder?”The word kinder settled between them like a velvet glove over a scalpel. Alice wanted to believe it. Some exhausted part of her leaned toward the idea the way a tired child leans toward any open door that smells warm. The house itself seemed to exhale in agreement — candle flames leaning gently in her direction, the teacups steaming with the faint scent of vanilla and forgiveness.She almost took his arm.Then the second moon pressed its pale face harder against the window, and for a moment the glass showed not reflection but memory: her real-world bedroom, the door locked from the outside, something wet licking the other side of the wood. The image flickered and vanished before she could be sure.The tall thin man’s hollow smile never wavered. “You see? Out there it was worse. Here the worst thing that happens is forgetting. And forgetting can be gentle, if you let it.” He tilted his head, the motion too smooth, too practiced. “Seventeen times you’ve chosen to run. Seventeen times you’ve been afraid of the very peace I offer. But peace is still peace, even when it wears a stranger’s face. Don’t you think?”A single note rose from the violin on the velvet chair — unplayed, untouched — and wrapped around her ribs like a lullaby. It felt… nice. Terribly, dangerously nice. The licking sound outside had gone quiet, almost respectful, as though giving them privacy.Alice’s fingers loosened on the mirror.The tall thin man noticed. His cheeks shifted in that not-quite-smile again. “There now. That’s better. Stay a while longer this time. The land is less wicked than the one you left. I promise.”The word promise tasted like sugar left too long on the tongue — sweet at first, then cloying, then something faintly rotten underneath.Alice looked at his offered arm. The joints were too many. The shadow beneath it stretched in the wrong direction, reaching toward her even while he held perfectly still. Somewhere far above them, in the rafters where his laughter still clung like dust, she thought she heard the soft, patient sound of something licking its lips again — slower this time. Almost courteous.She did not take his arm.Instead she asked the first question that felt like a crack in his script:“If it’s so much less wicked… why do you need me to stay?”For the first time in any of the seventeen arrivals, the tall thin man hesitated.Just for a heartbeat.But it was enough.