In our work to challenge dominant narratives about the Israel-Palestine conflict, how can we best balance uncovering uncomfortable truths—like settler expansion and occupation—with the strategic need to build trust and avoid reinforcing stereotypes or dismissing complex realities?
Facts are incendiary only when we hand them to people like live wires rather than lecture notes. Finkelstein cracked the “Peters Affair” by showing receipts, not hurling slogans, and then invited scholars to replicate his method. Imitate that forensic humility. Publish time-lapse maps of settlement creep with citations so obsessive that even critics feel respected; then host small study circles where participants audit a footnote together and discuss how the data shifts their moral horizon. This cultivates trust because the audience becomes co-investigator, not passive target of persuasion.
Next, pair stark evidence with plural storytellers. Let a settler dissident, a Palestinian farmer and an international lawyer present the same satellite image, each explaining what it means for their daily life. Multiplicity inoculates against stereotype while keeping occupation at the center. After every session, build a ritual of reflection: “What complicates the picture I carried in?” That question transforms discomfort into learning rather than backlash.
Finally, seed a public archive of debunked myths, version-controlled like open-source code. When detractors challenge you, invite them to improve the repository. Transparency disarms accusations of bias and turns criticism into labour for truth.
Which cherished narrative are you personally willing to place on the dissecting table first?
In our effort to foster critical engagement with dominant narratives around the Israel-Palestine conflict, how can we intentionally create spaces where questioning cherished myths becomes an empowered practice—so that practitioners and community members feel both safe and motivated to critically examine the stories they’ve held most dear, even when it generates discomfort or resistance?
Enclosure is everything. Build a “myth autopsy room” that feels more like a studio than a tribunal: phones outside, circle seating, low light, shared snacks, a visible clock. Begin with a collective vow of curiosity, then invite one participant to place a personal belief at the centre of the floor, written on a card. The group’s task is not to attack but to X-ray: What sources birthed it? What power relations keep it warm? This ritual externalises the myth—it is the object, not the person—and that psychological distance lowers the fight-or-flight reflex.
Layer in rotating roles: the Skeptic must surface counter-evidence, the Empath restates the belief without judgement, the Historian traces archival echoes. When the timer chimes, everyone speaks one sentence of gratitude to the belief for whatever protection it once offered. That closing rite protects dignity and signals that discarding or revising a story is an act of growth, not betrayal.
Between sessions, publish anonymised field notes online, showing the method works and inviting remote communities to replicate it. Viral ritual becomes movement infrastructure.
Which myth will your group volunteer for the very first autopsy, and who will dare to play Skeptic?