The battle that started it all

Friendship is like a nuclear bond: when it breaks, run for cover. You better believe a catastrophe is on the way. 

In the fight against antisemitism you may end up face-to-face against people you once considered your closest friends. In my case, it almost resulted in years and years of litigation and court battles which would undoubtedly have left me a broken shell of a human being. Instead, I began writing letters. First to my own school and then all the rest.

Anyone that has experienced betrayal knows that it’s not something you can ever truly “get over”. Wounds inflicted by broken trust do not heal. And though you may eventually find it in your heart to forgive, you will never, ever forget. The vindictiveness that was leveled at me. The lies. The libels. The systematic destruction of my personal and professional lives. The unrelenting campaigns of harassment and bullying. No, I don’t think I will forget. You’d best believe that when I talk about hate, I’m talking from my experience of it.

My opponents and former friends crossed the Rubicon and all bounds of human decency. I did what I had to do in response. I tried with every modicum of strength in me to save their souls from hate. And I failed. I couldn’t save them or my school. It will likely be the biggest failure of my life.

That was just the first chapter. The following twelve letters came from the realization that no one—I mean no one—was standing up for what’s right and the protection of Jewish life specifically on college campuses. So I did. For a time at least. I wish I could continue with the same furiousness and urgency and righteous anger; but this kind of advocacy takes its toll. For my own sanity I had to step back from the front lines.

The “sequel” book is really just a compendium of the later letters I didn’t have time to include before the publication of this book. You can find it on my LinkedIn here: