With the approach of the 100th anniversary of Britain’s declaration that it favored “the establishment in Palestine of a national home for the Jewish people,” a Palestinian campaign is underway to obtain an apology from the United Kingdom for this supposed injustice. Alex Joffe explains what the campaign reveals about Palestinian leaders’ aspirations and tactics:

[T]he campaign against the Balfour Declaration [characteristically involves] mistaking symbolism for practical action. Presumably an apology would achieve a partial restoration of Palestinian national honor and constitute another step toward the complete eradication of Israel. However, . . . it is difficult to see what direct value an apology would have in helping to establish a Palestinian state. . . .

The Balfour apology campaign is thus another element in the Palestinian wars against inconvenient historical facts that must be denied, attacked, rewritten, or otherwise assailed, rather than debated, conceded, or shared. This approach accounts for such extraordinary Palestinian claims as [Yasir] Arafat’s denial that there was ever a Jewish Temple in Jerusalem [and] Saeb Erekat’s statement that the Palestinians are descendants of Epipaleolithic inhabitants and thus the “real” indigenous population of the land. . . .

These [preoccupations]—redeeming lost honor, perpetual victimhood, international responsibility, and achieving through guilt what politics and force of arms cannot—are cultural ideas, transmitted endlessly by Palestinian leaders and through their educational system and media. But they are also reflected in Palestinian politics. At every turn, negotiations get to a stage and then stop because compromise would preclude full “restoration” of what never was. Fighting century-old events and hoping to produce another outcome is consistent with this pattern. It is unlikely to build either a stable Palestinian society or peace with Israel.

Reviewing Stranger Than Fiction, a new history of the 20th-century novel, Joseph Epstein draws attention to what’s missing:

A novelist and short-story writer who gets no mention whatsoever in Stranger Than Fiction is Isaac Bashevis Singer. When from time to time I am asked who among the writers of the past half century is likely to be read 50 years from now, Singer’s is the first name that comes to mind. His novels and stories can be sexy, but sex, unlike in many of the novels of Norman Mailer, William Styron, or Philip Roth, is never chiefly about sex. His stories are about that much larger subject, the argument of human beings with God. What Willa Cather and Isaac Bashevis Singer have that too few of the other novelists discussed in Stranger Than Fiction possess are central, important, great subjects.