Who Do You Trust?

Who Do You Trust? By Lorelei Roberts

Everyone expects a snake in the grass: that's where they live. We don't expect them in our reading material. Too often, the more a periodical declares an unbiased presentation of the facts, the more you can assume a hidden agenda.

Words are vehicles for expressing thoughts. Books, letters and periodicals are a collection of words made formal. Oral or written, words are initially an expression of the ideas of the speaker or writer alone. Words collected together and presented before groups may create a following; others quote them, or adopt them in some way. Words delivered in various media often develop just such a following, and can be said to form a special interest segment. In this logical progression, a medium sometimes assumes that it represents the will or interest of a majority of people. This is where a specific journal, newspaper or broadcast steps over a very fine and possibly dangerous line: they become the self-appointed arbiters of opinion.

Such a juggernaut becomes proportionally more dangerous as it is more able to control the flow of information.

Ever notice the editorial pages in periodicals? It is a curious exercise. The publication is saying, in effect, "We absolve ourselves of editorial responsibility by presenting you with these token alternate opinions." You must trust that the editors have chosen a democratic distribution among the letters they receive. And you must trust that these letters have not been truncated or edited in some way.

Reading current opinion pieces then becomes a two-fold exercise: reading an article for information and reading the particular bias of the publisher.

Not everything has to be dispassionate to be of informational value. It's acceptable to have an opinion, making it clear from the beginning that you are not making an effort to be balanced. In this case, you acknowledge that there is always more than one point of view, but you feel strongly because... But, it is uniquely informative when you can present a case without all the baggage. Some issues are simply too complex to resolve by taking sides. Sometimes the reader must be trusted to be intelligent enough, or sensitive enough, to figure it out for themselves.

The Scent of Lemons

I recently read The Lemon Tree by Sandy Tolan; I truly enjoyed it for a number of reasons having to do with hope, enlightenment, and a better world view. One aspect I especially appreciate is the balanced tone. This is no easy feat when you consider the overall theme of the book: the prospect for Mid-East peace.

The author alerts you to his intention in his introduction. He sets as his goal the use of actual source documents as opposed to speculation. He wishes to suppress his own voice, since his voice has no weight in this story: what follows is admirable. When he focuses on Bashir, he uses Bashir's words and his paradigm. When he discusses Dahlia, he uses her point of view, her writing. When he tackles the delicate issues between them, he uses their words to each other, spoken as uneasy friends. He supplements with third-party writings and a review of events. Tolan's "handling" of the issue is to not have handled it at all, but to have laid the facts of the matter before his readers. In addition, he has done so while retaining the emotion, the angst, the pathos of both points of view. I came away with compassion for both sides, with love and respect for both families. I felt, in a small degree, the weight of the problem; I stood in the middle and was emotionally pulled in two directions. What better way to experience the nature of this thorny problem? I have learned more from this book than from all my previous reading combined. I cannot say when I have been better served.

Tolin looks at the lives of two families whose opposite but similar histories weave around the same house. A lemon tree, planted in the house's courtyard by the Arab family, becomes a delicate and poignant symbol of their shared and troubled dilemma. By chance, the two families lives intersect, when events bring Bashir, the Arab and Dahlia, the Jew, together in a tenuous friendship. Tolan makes a fine effort to retain a balance without which this story cannot be credible.