Abstract
At a downtown Manhattan dinner party several months ago, the name of a widely respected journalist—author of an acclaimed book on genocide in Africa—was mentioned. This is a man whose work, though not immune to criticism, is generally regarded as brilliant and humane. "Why, he's a Zionist!" one guest hissed, with the contempt that in previous eras would have been reserved for fascists or members of the Ku Klux Klan. Everyone at the table seemed to nod with satisfaction—we're done with him!—until I said, somewhat stumblingly, "Well, I am too. I mean, I believe in a state for the Jewish people." The other guests—left-wing academics, accomplished people, smart people, good people, some of whom I not only like but love—looked dumbfounded. An embarrassed silence ensued.
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