by Janine Rayford

Over the last few weeks Israel has played host to one Republican politician after the other. The Israel National News website reported that Mississippi governor Haley Barbour “will be the third potential Republican presidential candidate to visit Israel in recent weeks.” Barbour's trip, full of sightseeing and conferences, is planned for February 5 to 9. He comes on the heels of fellow Republican Mike Huckabee and less than a month after former Massachusetts governor and GOP presidential contender Mitt Romney.  

It seems that hobnobbing with Israeli dignitaries is a prerequisite for GOP front-runners these days, but why? A Real Clear Politics article suggests that the possible candidates are making the Israel trips in order to pad the foreign-affairs sections of their resumes before the 2012 election season. CNN and multiple other American and Israeli outlets have run the story with the same political angle. But few outlets have addressed the religious motivations behind the Republican support of Israel or questioned why the Jewish state gets so much of the party's attention.

The Republican base includes a large number of American evangelical Christians. For this reason, Republican rhetoric is often infused with Christian imagery, allusions and ideals. Recent Tea Party speeches, in fact, have sounded a lot like segments from CBN's “700 Club,” a popular Christian television program. With this connection to evangelical Christianity comes the inherent religious affinity for Israel.  

Why is this this case? Many evangelical Christians believe in the concept of premillennialism,  which basically means that Jesus will not return and create his kingdom on earth until the Jewish state has been fully restored. Then the Jews, Jesus's chosen people, will convert to Christianity, and all will be right with world.  

Though media outlets often frame support for Israel in a political context, they usually overlook the deep religious underpinnings of American politics and specifically the influence of premillennialism within the Republican Party. A notable exception to this trend is an Associated Press article on Huckabee's trip, which noted that while he was in Israel, Huckabee said he “backed the [Jewish] settlers' view that they have the right to build anywhere in 'the place that God gave them.'”  

The news media have not done enough to probe the GOP's Israeli fascination, even from a political perspective. Why are potential GOP candidates generally ignoring other Middle Eastern countries (or other parts of the world, for that matter)? Only Romney made a point to visit Afghanistan and other places in the region.

The Real Clear Politics article suggests that Sarah Palin may be next in line to visit Israel–perhaps after the “blood libel” fiasco finally cools down. At a time when Egypt and other key U.S. allies in the region are becoming increasingly unstable, that should give journalists a chance to ask tough questions about what seems to be a pretty homogeneous approach to foreign policy among the likely GOP contenders.

Janine Rayford is a freelance journalist and graduate student in Los Angeles, CA. Rayford obtained her bachelor's degree in English from UC Berkeley and is currently pursuing her Master's degree in print journalism at the USC Annenberg School of Communication and Journalism. Her writing covers both news and entertainment and has appeared in 944 magazine, LAmag.com, Neontommy.com and in international newspapers such as the Cape Times of Cape Town, South Africa.
 

by Richard Flory

Although there are still some lingering questions from last November about the role that values-voters played in the midterm elections–for example, were moral issues trumped by personal financial interests?–more recently, a new politics of fear has begun to dominate legislative bodies from the local to the national level. Taken together, these efforts seem to be more about looking backward to a homogeneous Christian America that never was, rather than looking for ways to build a vibrant multi-ethnic, multi-faith nation.

Despite the fact that most observers—and politicians—agree that the last election was about the economy and jobs, some recent efforts by city councils, state legislatures and House Republicans seem intended to control the culture in different ways. For example, and not surprisingly, the role of Muslims in communities across the U.S. continues to be a hot-button issue. In Temecula, Calif.—a town of about 100,000 people located 85 miles southeast of Los Angeles—the city council (finally) approved a building permit for a new mosque after hearing from supporters and opponents for more than eight hours. Opposition to the mosque was initially presented as a zoning ordinance issue (inadequate parking, traffic problems and the like), but quickly devolved into, “We just don't trust those people,” as the Baptist pastor whose church will be next door to the new mosque put it.

Similarly, since late 2010, conservative legislators in at least four states–Wyoming, South Carolina, Texas and Oklahoma–have initiated efforts to ban Sharia law, despite the absence of evidence that it is legally possible to implement it or that any significant constituencies in those states are genuinely interested in doing so.

At the national level, House Republicans are making renewed efforts to roll back access to legal and safe abortions, whether by changing the new health care law or by redefining rape so as to exclude any form of sex that did not involve force. That means that any abortions of pregnancies that might result from the new exclusions would be outlawed (the only exceptions are for incest and for young women under 18). Tellingly, the shootings in Tucson have been linked by Arizona state senator Linda Gray not to lax gun laws and the actions of an unstable individual but to Roe v. Wade and abortion rights.

These seemingly separate developments have a common theme of fear, whether of “the other” or of a rapidly changing society and culture, and all of them have a religious aspect that isn't always obvious. Fear can be a great motivator, and for reporters who want to get to the bottom of the religion connection, they must get past the obvious “he said, she said” story-lines to examine the role that conservative religious groups and their political allies play in this new politics of fear.

Specifically, they need to ask what is at the root of this fear and what role religious organizations and beliefs play in nurturing it. Why do otherwise hopeful, religiously committed people become susceptible to appeals to fear and the scapegoating of others? How have politicians at all levels–whether local, state or national–managed to parley the insecurity spawned by an unstable economy into religio-political movements motivated primarily by the fear of difference and sexual freedom? Whether this politics of fear will gather steam as we head toward the next election, or whether more hopeful voices can win out, will be an interesting story to watch.

Richard Flory is associate research professor of sociology and senior research associate in the Center for Religion and Civic Culture at the University of Southern California. He is the co-author of Growing Up in America: The Power of Race in the Lives of Teens (Stanford, 2010) and Finding Faith: The Spiritual Quest of the Post-Boomer Generation (Rutgers, 2008).

Ethnic strife is nothing new in religious communities, but a Los Angeles Times piece about infighting at a local mosque casts more heat than light on the issue.

The cops-and-courts story of tensions between Pakistani and Afghan immigrants details a legal battle over leadership at two Southern California mosques. But the fight has spilled into the street, and private security guards as well as the LAPD officers patrol outside the buildings to make sure worshipers are safe.

The story's slow lede is meant to upturn readers' assumptions. The reporter spends several paragraphs on wary mosque goers scurrying past angry demonstrators to attend Friday prayers. But the protesters aren't anti-Islamic; they're Muslims from a rival faction who accuse their co-religionists of being insufficiently Americanized.

Said a spokesman for the mosque, “'We play basketball, we go to the movies, we play soccer. I myself am married to an American woman, so where is my Taliban style? Why they are playing that is because it is inflammatory words or because they can use that card: Muslim terrorist.'”

That one group of Muslims would use Islamophobia to discredit another is noteworthy, but ethnic conflict among religious communities is nothing new. In the early 20th century German Jews schemed to send Eastern European Jews back to the mother Russia, and Irish and Italian Catholics were openly hostile. More recently, ethnic and nationalist flare-ups have occurred when Asian, Anglo and Latino Protestants share a church building.

But instead of asking why immigrants snipe at each other, the Times suggests the problem only affects South Asians. Compounding the stereotype, the mosque's former attorney calls the dispute “tribal.” Would that pejorative description be used in reportage about Korean Presbyterians or Guatemalan Methodists?

The story has several intriguing elements that merit exploration. At a moment when many Muslims worldwide derogate the United States, it's striking that immigrant communities value fitting in. It's also fascinating that the fault-lines in this fight come down to ethnic and geographic differences as opposed to the sectarian distinctions that usually roil the Muslim community. Similarly, how does this division reflect larger issues in the Muslim world? The story briefly mentions that the local conflict reflects regional strife in Pakistan, but there's little explanation. Finally, one local member admits he's spooked by the private security and police patrols. But the chilling impact of the ongoing surveillance is largely unexplored.

Untangling the various threads of a local dust-up that blends religion, ethnicity, regionalism and ripped-from-the-headlines charges of Islamophobia isn't easy. But providing context and thoughtful analysis is always a good way to start.

Diane Winston

by Andrew Khouri

For the past few days, Egyptians have taken to the streets to protest nearly three decades of oppressive rule by the autocrat Hosni Mubarak. The protesters have largely been young people without ties to opposition groups or a specific religious ideology. But on Thursday, the Muslim Brotherhood—Egypt's largest opposition group and a perennial Mubarak foe—announced it would join the large demonstrations that were planned after prayers on Friday. A Muslim Brotherhood spokesman called it “the day of the intifada.”

That is how an article appearing in Friday's New York Times set the stage for what was no doubt a pivotal moment in Egypt, with thousands taking to the street, where they would face tear gas and baton-wielding security forces. The piece examined how religious factions, which have played little role so far, would affect the protest movement.

Cue oversimplification of religion in 3, 2, 1…

However, the Times' dispatch committed no such sin. The reporters covering the story write: “But Islam is hardly homogeneous, and many religious leaders here said Thursday that they would not support the protests, for reasons including scriptural prohibitions on defying rulers and a belief that democratic change would not benefit them.”

Too often U.S. news media oversimplify religious identity and gloss over divisions inside religious movements to fit a preconceived story arc. This tendency is omnipresent in coverage of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

A Washington Post article earlier this month about the razing of a historic hotel for Jewish settlements in occupied East Jerusalem portrayed the issue as Jewish Israel versus Arab Palestine. The article didn't mention the numerous Jewish Israelis who take issue with their government's policies (although it did quote a Jewish lawyer describing the number of Jews living in Palestinian neighborhoods as a “very dangerous and volatile mix”). The reporter also failed to examine the religious motives of settlers or the complex religious character of the city of Jerusalem itself.

In sharp contrast, Friday's New York Times piece delved deeper, citing two unknown (at least to many Americans) Muslim communities that would refrain from protesting: the mystic Sufis and fundamentalist Salafists.

An Internet search showed few other outlets probing so deeply into divisions among Egyptian society and what they mean for the country's future. However, given dwindling news budgets, most news organizations that still have the capacity to cover a far-flung conflict are simply trying to keep up with the rapidly breaking news.

The Los Angeles Times did explain that the Muslim Brotherhood has renounced violence, and that while it is conservative, it is less reactionary than many other Islamist groups. The BBC also detailed Egypt's various opposition groups.

But the New York Times was by far the most expansive and thorough in its reporting on how religion may or may not affect Egypt in the coming days and months. Examining the whole scene, including the divisions inside complex religious movements, may not be the easiest way to tell a story, but it is always the best.

Andrew Khouri is a second-year graduate journalism student at USC Annenberg. A Southern California native, he enjoys reporting on politics, business and issues of social justice.  

by John Adams

A few months ago, Al Jazeera gained access to nearly 1,700 confidential documents related to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict from someone believed to be in the PLO's Negotiations Affairs Department. These “Palestine Papers,” dated from 1999 to 2010, were released this week and have exposed behind-the-scenes activities through various memos, e-mails, maps, minutes from private meetings, accounts of high level exchanges, strategy papers and even Power Point presentations.

Al Jazeera shared and jointly published the documents with the Guardian, the most popular British newspaper website. Some U.S. news media, on the other hand, seem not only left out in the cold but also a little preoccupied with the State of the Union address.

A quick look at three of the major newspaper websites in America – the New York Times, the Los Angeles Times and the Washington Post – found no stories about the “Palestine Papers” on their home pages. Granted, there was a little American tradition called the State of the Union address that happened last night and does merit front-page coverage. But even a click-through to the papers' “World Section” only turned up a story or two about the “largest-ever leak of confidential documents about the Middle East peace process.”

    
If newspapers devoted limited ink and pixels to the leak, other media outlets like TIME and NPR jumped in with fervor, possibly because their respective mediums (long-form magazine pieces and radio discussion) more easily lend themselves to the dissection of difficult concepts and complex stories.

On Monday, TIME published an article, “Will 'The Palestine Papers' Kill the Peace Process?”  that seemed like the best place to start – though the hopeless impasse depicted in the documents coming from Al Jazeera and the Guardian would call into question whether there actually is a “Peace Process” at all, or just a whole lot of smoke and mirrors.

TIME published another article about the leak on Wednesday, “The Palestine Papers: When 'Behind Closed Doors' Goes Public,” discussing the ongoing trend of confidential leaks.  

The magazine detailed how the leak was perceived over a succession of days in Palestine's leading paper, al-Quds, and what that perception means for the U.S. (Monday: No mention of the “Palestine Papers.” Tuesday: The leaks are an effort to sabotage Palestinian moderates. Wednesday: The Papers were taken out of context and totally untrue.)

NPR's coverage of the “Palestine Papers” is quite extensive, using radio shows and online articles to illustrate how the Middle East issue affects U.S. policy at home and abroad. There is also an examination of possible American complicity in torture.

As Al Jazeera and the Guardian continue to publish the confidential documents, the general public in the U.S. seems less than interested in getting involved in what is quickly becoming a scorching game of diplomatic hot-potato between the Israelis and the Palestinians.

American reporters have long struggled to report the complexity of the Israel-Palestine conflict, as Marda Dunsky relates in her book, “Pens and Swords: How the American Mainstream Media Report the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict.” But even if the relative silence around the “Palestine Papers” is just a classic example of the mainstream news media following the lead of a tight-lipped State Department, journalists are also overlooking these important details:

1. The White House, less than a year ago, blasted Wikileaks founder Julian Assange for making available 75,000 secret U.S. military reports. Isn't it a double standard to remain silent in regards to the “Palestine Papers”?

2. Documents in the leak show deep frustrations with President Obama at a time when Palestinian and Israeli activists are calling for Obama to “step up” as the leader on the path toward a two-state solution.

3. The amount of aid we send to Israel, estimated at $3 billion for the fiscal year 2011, commends the idea of effecting change rather than simply enabling the status quo.

Above all, why aren't more American journalists asking the question that the Guardian asked: “How are people responding to the revelations of the 'Palestine Papers'?” Shouldn't the pressure for U.S. engagement come from the pens of journalists? A commenter on the Los Angeles Times blog, Babylon & Beyond, summed up this situation well: “It's a great age for journalism; I just wish more journalists were partaking.”

John Adams worked as a pastor for 12 years before leaving his church to pursue journalism. He earned a master's in online media from USC Annenberg, and is focused on sports journalism and the web world. He works for NBC Los Angeles as a web editor and content producer. He has published articles on SI.com, WSJ.com, USAToday.com, MSNBC.com and TreeHugger.com to name a few.

by Bethany Firnhaber

The second annual Arab Economic Summit came and went last week, along with a missed opportunity for Western journalists to report on the complex political and religious climate in the Middle East. Leaders from across the Arab world met last Wednesday in Egypt where, as thousands of news articles reported (including one in the Los Angeles Times), the topic of Tunisian unrest “dominated” the conversation. But what seemingly every American journalist failed to mention was that leaders participating in the summit also issued a terse statement announcing their “total rejection” of Western interference in Arab affairs, especially regarding tensions between Muslims and the region's Christian minority.

Dubai-based Al Arabiya News quoted the statement as saying, “Arab kings and presidents…express their total rejection of attempts by certain states and foreign parties to intervene in Arab affairs in the name of protecting the minorities of the East.” The statement declared that such intervention “demonstrates a regrettable lack of understanding of the nature of the terrorist acts…and a harmful ignorance of the history of the people of the region.”

One element of the story behind the story was repeated calls by Western nations for better protection for Christian Arabs in the aftermath of recent deadly attacks on churches in Iraq and Egypt: In October, 68 worshipers were killed in an attack on a Christian congregation in Baghdad, and on the first day of the new year, 21 were killed in a church in Alexandria.

The Arab leaders' sentiments were widely reported in non-Western news outlets, from local Egyptian media and far-reaching Al Jazeera to China's Global Times.

Of American mainstream media, only CNN, the Los Angeles Times, and the New York Times covered the summit at all. And not one of those three mentioned the non-interference statement. More egregious still is the fact that, judging from the datelines on their stories, both the LA Times and the New York Times had reporters in the region, yet still failed to mention remarks that were clearly directed, if not to their audiences, then to the politicians that their audiences elect.

Even if American journalists on the ground dismissed Arab leaders' remarks as an excuse for violence against Christians, not reporting significant information about a region in which Americans are deeply involved only serves to perpetuate what Arab leaders described as our “harmful ignorance.” By helping to perpetuate this ignorance, journalists simply contribute to the conditions that further destabilize the Middle East.

Of course, nations with Christian majorities are understandably concerned when their co-religionists are persecuted in Arab countries. But what's the source of the animus? In the Middle East, the facts on the ground are always shaped, in one way or another, by Western economic, political and military influence in the region. Moreover, no single problem–the church bombing in Alexandria, Israeli settlements in the West Bank, Taliban incursions in Kandahar–is isolated from the volatile religious ferment that keeps the entire region bubbling.

So were Western nations complicit in stoking the violence that recently flared in Alexandria and Baghdad? In calling for non-interference in the affairs of the region, do the Arab leaders want the West–particularly the U.S.–to stop pushing Israel toward the negotiating table with the Palestinians? These are urgent questions, and journalists hinder rather than help the discussion when they let a potent message from Arabs to the West go unexamined.

Bethany Firnhaber is a student in the Master's in journalism program at USC Annenberg. She is interested in reporting on issues of social responsibility and human rights, especially across international borders.

by Jill Krebs

It was the case of the news media's putting the politician's foot in his mouth.

Alabama's new Gov. Robert Bentley stood before a Baptist congregation earlier this week and said, “Anybody here today who has not accepted Jesus Christ as their savior, I'm telling you, 'You're not my brother and you're not my sister, and I want to be your brother.'”

Within hours of Bentley's making that statement, major news outlets across the country had published reports questioning his fitness to lead Alabama, or even to hold public office. Bentley's remarks were instantly labeled “anti-non-Christian” and “extreme.”

But didn't Bentley say, “I want to be your brother”? Where, exactly, did this controversy come from?

Politicians' religious beliefs are typically framed in one of two ways in mainstream news media: “feel-good” or “fighting words.” That can cause trouble when things get even a little complicated. Take, for example, the coverage of Bentley's remarks in the Huffington Post, which harpooned the governor with the headline, “Christians Are My Brothers And Sisters, Others Not So Much.” Or ABC News, which decried the governor's “Christian-only” comments. These headlines not only put words in Bentley's mouth–they created religious conflict essentially out of thin air.

Kudos to the Los Angeles Times, on the other hand, for acknowledging that Bentley had “raised eyebrows” but resisting the impulse to goose the story beyond that observation.

Newsrooms are tough places these days, and most journalists are at loose ends when it comes to religion. Still, that's no excuse for what happened to Robert Bentley. At a time when real religious strife is causing so much harm, the last thing we need is for journalists conjure it up for us.

Jill Krebs is an associate director at ESPN. She works on the nightly Los Angeles-based SportsCenter. Jill is also a graduate student in the Specialized Journalism program at the University of Southern California. Her passion revolves around the unification of science and religion; she sees their relationship as undeniably symbiotic.

by Lee Gilmore

One of my fellow bloggers has already noted the tacitly required scriptural references and broad civil-religious themes in Obama's widely lauded speech last week at the memorial for the victims of the Tucson shooting. Others have noted the debt that Obama's rhetorical gifts owe to the Black Church. But scant attention has been paid to the selection of a Native American to open the ceremony with a prayer from his tradition. Like a visit from brother Coyote, the trickster archetype in many indigenous Southwestern myths, the prayer was a tweak on the nose of our religious assumptions.

Carlos Gonzales, who introduced himself as both a Yaqui Indian and as a fifth-generation Mexican-American, was selected to represent the considerable American Indian presence in Arizona, and in particular the Pascua Yaqui tribal reservation just outside Tucson. Clarifying at the outset that he is not a “medicine man,” but that he was authorized to say this blessing by his spiritual elders, he is also medical doctor and an associate professor at the University of Arizona College of Medicine. Holding feathers aloft, he called on the four directions, the great creator, father sky and mother earth for healing, guidance and strength for grieving families and the nation.

The media response–or rather the general lack thereof–was telling. Those motivated to comment publicly on the blessing were mainly conservatives troubled by its implications. For example, Brit Hume of Fox News was baffled, saying, “By the time it was over with, he had blessed the reptiles of the sea, and he had prayed to the four doors of the building, and while I'm sure that all has an honorable tradition with his people, it was most peculiar.”  The Washington Examiner went much further and called it a “a stark statement of  pantheistic paganism” and “a blatant violation of church and state.”

Glossing over the apparent hypocrisy–the biblical references in Obama's eulogy did not seem to touch off a similar nerve–perhaps Gonzales' invocation can be read as a vague nod to a loose, politically correct “spirituality” appealing to the so-called “liberal elite.” Yet the left wing of the blogosphere also had little to say about Gonzales' invocation. (There was some insightful discussion from this vantage point taking place on a popular and intelligent Pagan blog called the Wildhunt.)

The long tradition of American civil religion has rendered the public generally comfortable with a generic and lightweight form of ceremonial deism (even if most people are likely unfamiliar with these terms). Yet when the religious narrative slips too far beyond a one-size-fits-almost-all biblical monotheism, the wily coyote pops out of the standard media frame, revealing that religious content as well as the supposedly secular medium of the message are all part of the same cultural process.

More recently, and perhaps predictably, spontaneous shrines and memorials honoring victims have begun cropping up across Tucson. For an American people who remain deeply divided in our religious ideologies and who thus feel bereft of any officially shared or sanctioned means by which to express and transcend collective grief, this public ritualizing also taps into an implicit cultural religiosity.

Finally, it should be noted that there are also those Americans for whom Gonzales' prayer is native, and whose religious values and worldviews are rarely represented in mainstream media.  Religious minorities are consistently rendered “other”–either feared and excoriated (think Islam on the American right) or quaintly romanticized (think the Na'vi of “Avatar” on the left)–and seldom granted public voice and agency. There should be more coverage of the rare occasions when religiously pluralist gestures are part of nationally significant events. Reporters who do this aren't simply helping their audiences see others more easily; they're also holding up a mirror so we can more accurately see ourselves.

Lee Gilmore teaches in the Religious Studies and Anthropology departments at California State University, Northridge. Her recent book, Theater in a Crowded Fire: Ritual and Spirituality at Burning Man (University of California Press), explores the cultural and religious significance of the Burning Man festival and why many participants describe it as a spiritual and transformational event.

by Jon Dillingham

We're long used to the omnipresence of religious language in politics and the emphasis these terms get in the media. Eighty percent of the county identifies as religious and there is not a single member of either House of Congress who identifies as a non-believer. New York Times columnist Charles Blow argues that non-belief is “not only seen as unholy, it's also seen as un-American.”

Following that, it should come as no surprise that President Obama's universally praised memorial for the victims of the Tucson massacre was laden with allusions to Psalms 41 and the Book of Job, while utilizing familiar bookends: “Scripture tells us…” and “…God bless the United States America.”

Given the length at which Obama quoted from the Bible in the Tucson address, surprisingly few media reports discussed the religious meanings of those words. A Lexis-Nexis review of over 100 mainstream print and TV accounts of the President's speech yielded only two that discussed the meaning of the verses Obama borrowed. And though Obama's presence at the memorial made the event an unavoidable political happening, neither of the two articles went so far as to ponder the implications of the religious references beyond the event at which they were spoken.

The most thorough discussion of the speech's biblical message came from a Los Angeles Times piece by Christi Parsons. Parsons gives a warming account of a deeply pained President working with close spiritual advisers to ensure a moving address written close to his heart and his faith. But where most other writers failed to capture the speech's religious dimension, Parsons mostly ignores the speech's political implications. A rigorous interpretation of a political address flavored by religion, or a sermon fueled by politics, cannot afford to divorce one from the other.

The coverage of Obama's talk and its religious undertones overlooked questions about what religion should mean in a deeply polarized — and often violent — society that is reeling from an economic malaise and the loss of civil liberty at home, coupled with the waging of multiple wars abroad.

In praise of the speech, the news media, including Parsons, all but rallied around Obama's religion so long as he used the language of reconciliation and assured a conflicted public that no one was at fault; only the mysterious machinations of an amorphous, undefinable evil could be blamed. But shouldn't a press that lends moral credibility to Obama's faith in one instance then also at least ask how scripture informs a wartime president's management of war in another instance? As Obama eulogized the six who died in Tucson, four Afghans and six NATO soldiers were killed, along with two mosque-goers in Iraq and scores more dead as part of our war in Pakistan.

The Chairman of Obama's Joint Chiefs of Staff told us violence is only going to increase in Afghanistan. What does scripture tell us about that? When journalists can ask that question, we'll finally be doing some religion reporting.

Jon Dillingham has written about a range of issues — from the legacy of war to local sports — as a journalist based in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. He's now studying propaganda in foreign policy coverage as an M.A. candidate in Specialized Journalism at the University of Southern California's Annenberg School of Communication and Journalism.

by Kevin Douglas Grant

As the news cycle moves on to other aspects of the Tucson shootings, observers are left wondering what Sarah Palin's foray into Jewish history means for the health of the American political debate.

We often hear that our politics is “polarized,” and the “blood libel” fracas reveals how inept the American news media have become at both reporting the news and defending their right to do so. The only way back is through deeper, more reflective reporting, something that was in scarce supply last week.

Palin, who has shown a fondness for language associated with the Jewish people and their persecution (such as “death panels“), again repurposed some loaded terminology last week to serve her political purposes. By selecting a term that originates in biblical times and refers to Jewish murder of Christians (including Jesus) for their blood, Palin cast a strange cloud over the Tucson tragedy.

She equated allegations that Tea Party rhetoric contributed to the Tucson shooting as “blood libel,” kicking commentators into high gear about her meaning and leaving most mainstream reporters in the awkward position of covering the story of….how they were covering a story. There was plenty of biased blogging, but little contextualizing or analysis of Palin's statement in the broader news outlets where it was sorely needed.

Religiously and ethnically loaded language has become a very effective weapon for political figures who want to hijack the conversation. And when all else fails, blame the media. In doing that, Palin made the media part of the story. But in trying to maintain what NYU scholar Jay Rosen calls the “view from nowhere,” many journalists missed a chance to probe some of the murkiest depths of the relationship between religion and American politics.

Part of that story is this: Much in the same way that anti-Muslim language was employed after 9/11 to create a linguistic bond between Americans against a perceived threat from Islam, political conservatives are turning to the language of persecution to style themselves as martyrs. Trotting out a well-worn narrative, it is apparently the liberal media that now does the oppressing.

Our current national landscape demands the politicization of the Tucson shooting. True to our history, so was the insertion of religious subtext. Palin's powerful connection to the Christian Right is predicated on a common identity.

As Sarah Posner at Religion Dispatches pointed out, that identity is constructed from whatever is convenient, in this case the language of Jewish persecution. Taegan Goddard of Political Wire hypothesized that Palin sounded a “dog whistle to speak to her religious base who often feel they're an oppressed minority.”

The linguistic Holy War (described by Paul Krugman as a “climate of hate“) is enabled by the media itself, regardless of political leaning. Only a few blogs got to the true roots of Palin's comments. Most of the rest was highly predictable noise. Without proper context, the climate of hate is also a climate of confusion.

Kevin Douglas Grant, hailing from Chicago, Illinois, is a second-year graduate journalism student at USC's Annenberg School. He has a passion for Web technology, matters of social justice and good coffee.