When one thinks of a unit going to the front line, one immediately assumes physical battle. Uniforms. Weapons. Machinery. One doesn’t imagine a group of friends in their 20s and 30s flying halfway around the world with cameras, microphones, and a whole lot of chutzpah.
But that’s what we do. We’re Frontline Advocates, an NGO working in collaboration with the Foreign Ministry. We deploy teams of highly specialized Israeli individuals all around the world to advocate for the State of Israel.
After six weeks of training – learning about geopolitics, the UN, Islam, Christianity, Judaism, current affairs, and more – our speakers are ready to represent.
This week, our fourth delegation of the year headed over to New York City, and it was… polarizing. Our group of eight visited Washington Square Park, Union Square, Columbia University, NYU, and CUNY School of Law.
We visited these very hostile territories armed with two security guards, facts, personal stories, knowledge, and a defiance you’d expect from soldiers entering battle. And a battle it was.
Our week started relatively positive. When tabling in Union Square, we were surprised. We received a deluge of support – appreciation, love, and gratitude from Jewish New Yorkers, both young and old, who told us “just your presence here makes us feel safer.”
But, as expected, that warmth was short-lived. In the days following, we visited Washington Square, Columbia, and CUNY School of Law. At Washington Square Park, we had to call the police multiple times.
On one occasion, an aggressive man named Chris Smalls, who attempted to break the blockade in Gaza by joining the Freedom Flotilla, approached our table. After some back and forth with myself and other members of the delegation, Chris had what would be best described as a meltdown.
Whilst screaming and shouting, he kicked through our posters and destroyed our display. His girlfriend held him back from physically assaulting us; apparently he is currently the proud owner of two separate charges, and attacking us wasn’t worth the risk.
On a separate occasion, a young man named Anas, a self-proclaimed Palestinian American, approached our table in a rage. With a camera in his hand, he proclaimed, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Let’s go!”
Screaming at the top of his lungs, calling us “baby-killers” and “IDF soldiers who are guilty of war crimes,” he decided to draw the attention of absolutely everyone in Washington Square Park.
Before we knew it, we were surrounded by a hostile audience. And we collectively decided the environment was not conducive to our mission – to encourage meaningful dialogue. So, we stood behind our security and the police as they attempted to diffuse the raging Anas and the angered crowd.
Finding a common ground
Eventually, he settled down, and three of us sat with him and engaged. By the end of the conversation, he had condemned Hamas, admitted that Hamas was the cause of the Palestinians’ suffering, and we’d reached such neutral ground that one of our delegates, Keren, even took a smiling selfie with him.
Perhaps my favorite (potentially dangerous) scenario took place outside CUNY School of Law. Two of our speakers, Keren and Stav, went undercover. Wrapped in keffiyehs, they acted as though they were vehemently opposed to what we were advocating for, shouting across our table.
Naturally, that manufactured conflict garnered attention, and before you knew it, we had a young American man wrapped in a keffiyeh coming to join in. At first, he would not engage with us. Instead, he sat back with Keren and Stav, who had frankly informed him that they were part of the “resistance.” Initially, he was enthralled. Supportive. He was with Hamas.
But this is where the magic happened.
Stav pulled out his phone and began to show the young man footage of what “he” did on October 7, 2023: Murder. Kidnapping. Rape. All filmed and documented by Hamas. And, once the American, “Free Palestine,” keffiyeh-clad gentleman was led to believe that Stav was a rapist, he lost his composure.
At the top of his lungs, in front of a huge crowd of engaged people, the pro-Palestine individual was screaming at the crowd: “He’s a f***ing rapist! You’re a rapist! Disgusting. Get the f*** away from me.”
Wow. How the tables had turned. When confronted with the reality of what Hamas perpetrated, likely for the very first time, he vehemently opposed their actions.
This is precisely why we do the work that we do. Yes, it’s dangerous. Yes, it’s hostile. Yes, after our days we are both physically and mentally exhausted.
But no matter what we endure, the result makes it totally worth it. We’re genuinely changing minds. We’re giving those who oppose us critical nuance. And, for the first time, we’re forcing them to hear us. We are no longer on the defensive; we are on the offensive, and we will not be scared into submission. Not anymore.
Perhaps that’s why our delegation’s impact was covered, albeit negatively, in Al Jazeera, Muslim News, Roya News, Mint Press, and more. But hey, all press is good press.
And a bonus is that we’re making our fellow Jews feel safer: More seen. More heard. More represented. More protected. And that, for us, is the biggest blessing of all.
If we can make our fellow Jews feel safe enough, they might be inclined to advocate for themselves and to ensure that the future students and future generations carry on the legacy we intend to create. Because if we are all unified, brave, bold, and unshaken, we’re a force to be reckoned with, not to be played with.
The writer is a British-Israeli content creator, speaker and advocate. Her advocacy work focuses on Israel, Jewish identity, Zionism, geopolitics, and the rapidly evolving media landscape surrounding the Jewish world. She made an emergency aliyah after facing severe antisemitic persecution in the UK. She has since become a leading voice against antisemitism globally.