May 2024 - Steve Salaita

Down with the Zionist Entity; Long Live “the Zionist Entity”

There is no vocabulary that will make Palestinians acceptable in the eyes of our oppressor.

Since the acceleration of the Zionist entity’s genocide, we’ve seen lots of debate about language and terminology. It’s a common kind of debate, usually more annoying than enlightening, especially when it occurs among thought-leaders in the Anglosphere. As Gaza suffers incalculable horror, a parade of sophisticates has decided that it’s of paramount importance for Palestinians to look presentable. Their interventions are the intellectual equivalent of a grandparent insisting that if you die in a car crash it’s important to be wearing clean underwear.

Literary Criticism in a Time of Genocide

Exploring disaffection as a critical practice.

Below is a transcript of the keynote speech I delivered for the 14^th Conference on East-West Cross-Cultural Relations at the American University in Cairo.

How the fuck am I supposed to teach Mark Twain?

I repeated this question as I sat on the bus traveling to campus. It was my first time meeting classes since October 7. I would be walking onto the same campus, but the world in which it is situated had forever changed. Trying to separate campus from Palestine was no more viable than trying to separate Christ from the crucifix.

An Excerpt from Daughter, Son, Assassin

The following is an excerpt from my first novel, Daughter, Son, Assassin, just published by Common Notions Press. To set the scene: Fred Baker, one of the main characters, has just been arrested in an unnamed desert kingdom for publicly criticizing its government and finds himself thinking about his wife, Lara, and daughter, Nancy.

Our (Your) Pitiful Ethics!: A Response to Zadie Smith’s “Shibboleth”

In its apparent nothingness, Zadie Smith’s essay “Shibboleth” tells us plenty about how genocide can be rationalized.

Since the publication of her debut novel, White Teeth (2000), Zadie Smith has been a darling of tastemakers across the Atlantic. Much of her ensuing work feels like a love letter to the forces who anointed her into literary stardom. Twenty-four years on, she continues to repay the favor.