Today’s March for Israel was an event staged for television. Over 290,000 people lined the National Mall, separated from the stage by two sets of risers holding production and television-network crews. Even if someone arrived hours before the 1:00 PM start-time hoping to stake out a coveted front-row position, all he or she would have seen was white March for Israel banners hanging from the risers holding the media and production crews. For most of those attending, the view didn’t matter. Just being present was enough. To stand with Israel and the Jewish People; to mourn the dead; to pray for the hostages; and to sing joyously.

Several hundred young people and their minders were the exception. The television savvy organizers positioned them in a pen between the television crews and the stage. Fresh, young bouncing teenagers and college students yield more impactful visuals than their elders, who often resemble cattle grazing on the Texas plains.

I was fortunate to obtain press credentials, so I spent time in the “pit” separating the stage from the often-ecstatic cherubs. Albeit even my access was limited. Five or six photographers were led into the pit at 15-minute intervals, permitting them to capture establishing shots. Then the group was led back out. Midway through the program, I returned to the pit, but this time no one asked me to leave, giving me free rein for the duration.

Whenever I scan a crowd for photo opportunities, I search for the most charismatic person, which means someone who either is holding an interesting sign or prop, wearing event-appropriate attire, or physically articulating the event’s message—a raised-clenched fist, tears flowing, or improvised dancing.

Most photographers who work large public gatherings take a similar approach, which probably explains why the Associated Press photographer and I both captured almost identical images of the same eleven-year old kid hoisted on his father’s shoulders waving Israeli flags. The red hair was the decisive factor in my decision to capture a decisive moment. (If you are not a photographer, Google Henri Cartier-Bresson.)

Today, the true decisive moment stems from a chance encounter with Solomon, a youthful high school student who had a blemish-free round face, dark curly hair, and large, very white teeth, which were particularly prominent given his exuberant smile. He and his friends were standing in the front row mere feet from the stage. He singularly embodied the other 289,999 demonstrators, which is why I kept coming back to him as I captured images from the pit.

When the hostage families spoke, Solomon was noticeably upset, possibly tearing up—he kept his hands clasped against his cheeks, and then his lips. When the crowd chanted, “Bring them home,” he was loud and boisterous. And when the Israeli pop singers performed, he knew every word, singing along with his pals and new acquaintances, all tightly clustered together, some with arms around each other.

Solomon could have just as easily been one of the innocent teenagers that Hamas slaughtered at the Supernova music festival in Israel’s Negev desert. I doubt that the March for Israel organizers expected anyone to draw that connection, but I inevitably found myself making it as I framed all the happy faces in my camera’s viewfinder.

Why focus on Solomon? Simple: He was joyful, distraught, and proud. He was totally uninhibited in displaying his emotions as he inhabited the moment.

The organizers made a calculated decision by positioning the future of the Jewish people front and center. It was a good one.

[Click on an Image to Enlarge It]

Back to the Beginning. I rode the Metro from Rosalyn, Virginia to the Smithsonian Metro Station on the Mall, arriving at 9:45 AM. The Mall was surprisingly empty. The organizers had divided it into two sections: the General Admission and the Blue Sections. General Admission was farther back, probably beginning at 12th Street. Its north and south perimeters were lined with linked bicycle racks. There were no security checkpoints, which surprised me.

The Blue Section was closer to the stage. Those entering went through some sort of security checkpoint, but I did not see magnetometers. I suspect those standing in the Blue Section were with groups organized by Jewish Federations and schools located throughout the country, with the General Admission Section set aside for the ‘unregistered’ walk-ins.

I had heard that the security level for the march exceeded that of the Super Bowl. The comparison speaks volumes about our culture and priorities. While there was a high level of security, it was not intrusive, nor was it visibly heavy-handed.

The side streets perpendicular to the Mall were blocked off with military-grade Humvees and large salt trucks with plow blades attached—that is now typical after several terrorists have rammed cars into crowds. The National Park Service police were out in force. Don’t confuse them with Smokey the Bear. Unlike Smokey, these rangers were heavily armed. I also saw snipers on rooftops and at least one helicopter overhead.

To gain entrance to the Media Section, I did go through a magnetometer and I underwent a bag search. A slight inconvenience, but well worth the effort because the organizers placed 15 porta-potties within the section’s confines, so there was never a line. I also saw pallets filled with bottled water. With a quick and easy path to the porta potties, there was no cost in staying hydrated.

Even had the television risers not been blocking the view from the lawn, the audience would not have been able to see the performers or the speakers. The stage was low to the ground, and the speakers stood behind a lectern. As noted, the entire setup was designed for television—see Daniel Boorstin’s 1962 classic, The Image: A Guide to Pseudo-events in America. From my vantage point as I circulated through the Media Section, I had trouble seeing the speakers. If only I were a foot taller. Well, I would probably be an NBA player rather than a photographer.

Those lining the Mall, however, were not totally out of luck. Audio relay towers and large video screens broadcast the event, which may explain why people were laid back about their position. Some even skipped the Mall, choosing to picnic on the steps of the museums lining the Mall or on grassy patches running along the street— a good strategy given that the sound from the relay towers was clearly audible at a sizable distance.

The March. I knew that there would not be a march, but I nevertheless asked one staff member whether there would be one—I like poking the bear to see what happens. She quickly noted that I was not the first to ask that question, adding that the organizers viewed the event as a figurative march across the country by those in attendance.

In terms of messaging, the organizers had three clearly delineated themes: (i) supporting Israel; (ii) demanding the release of the hostages; and (iii) condemning anti-Semitism. There was a fourth, unstated objective: creating a safe space where Jews and their supporters were surrounded by and could support each other as a community. In other words, end the sense of loneliness and isolation that many have experienced since October 7.

To achieve their objectives, the organizers brought together a diverse group of speakers and musicians. College students spoke about anti-Semitism on campus; relatives of the hostages described their personal agony over the last six weeks, and their need to remain positive and hopeful; a congressional delegation assured continuing financial support for Israel; Isaac Herzog, the President of Israel, appearing via a video link, thanked the crowd for its support, as well as describing Israel’s indefatigable effort to eradicate Hamas; and the Jewish-centric musicians provided much-needed respite from the solemn messages that might have otherwise overwhelmed many.

The Money Shot. At all demonstrations, the money shot (or sucker shot) is the crowd overview. In Chicago, photographers rely on the ‘L’ platforms above street level. I also have used a hotel terrace four or five stories above street level.

Yesterday, I knew I was in trouble as I scouted the Mall for an elevated vantage point. In the past, I have used the Newseum’s outdoor terrace, but that is no longer an option because the Newseum closed its doors several years ago. Moreover, that vantage point only worked for marches running along Pennsylvania Avenue. I considered the National Gallery’s outdoor terrace (located above the Modern Wing), which overlooks the Mall, but it was set back too far.

Fortunately, the organizers had two scissor lifts on site today—one off to the side of the stage and the other toward the back of the Blue Section. The photographer for the New York Times used the one next to the stage before the organizers shut it down due to the noise and the fumes generated by the gas-powered engine; both adversely impacting the speakers and the performers.

Deciding to ignore my fear of heights, I walked through the crowd with one of the media minders and a group of 10 photographers to the other lift. Bravely (one woman bailed when she saw the contraption) I climbed aboard the lift, which offered a perfect view of the crowd, the stage, and the Capitol. On the way up, the operator warned us that we should not all rush to the side of the platform facing the stage because the lift would topple over if our collective weight was not evenly distributed across the platform—yeah, that alleviated my fear of heights. When my turn came, I was relieved that I had skipped lunch—every pound counts.

I am glad I went for the ride. My big adventure for the day. Crowd shots are always dramatic and fun, but rather boring. Just adjust exposure, compose for the Capitol, and press the shutter button. My fill flash was useless.

Of course, the Instagram generation was out in force, with one teenager asking me if I would take his phone for the ride up, and then capture the money shot. Not today, kid. I’ve got my own Instagram account.

Difference Between Jews and Palestinians. As I have noted before, one of the central themes running through the Israeli television series Fauda is that as much animosity as exists between Israelis and Palestinians, the two groups are far more alike than either might be willing to acknowledge. In terms of recent demonstrations, there are nevertheless some notable differences. The pro-Palestinian demonstrations exude anger. The demonstrators are loud and boisterous. The emotion in the air is palatable.

While at times today the pro-Israel demonstrators were loud and boisterous, I never sensed anger or hatred. During large portions of the program, the audience listened attentively to the speakers; almost too attentively. When the hostage families spoke, there were some tears and faces turned solemn, but there was not a widespread visible emotional outpouring.

Aside from the kids in the front section, the crowd was largely unanimated throughout the program, which probably explains why I do not have dozens of images framed to isolate individuals, thereby creating the informal portrait that I love.

The Palestinian rallies are extremely colorful. Many bring flags and large signs. The organizers (or the National Park Service) imposed restrictions on the size of the signage and the use of poles—the police view poles as potential weapons, as I learned at a Proud Boy demonstration in Houston. Many demonstrators wore Israeli flags as capes, but I rarely saw a tapestry of multiple flags or signs propelled upward, waving in the breeze. If the organizers decide to stage a second rally—and unfortunately, I suspect that there will be a need to do so—I would highly recommend distributing signs on the outskirts of the gathering rather than to just those upfront.

In terms of the speakers, the March for Israel far surpassed the pro-Palestinian rallies that I have attended over the last six weeks. The speakers were far less strident; far more measured and substantive with their remarks than the speakers occupying the rostrum at the pro-Palestinian rallies. Today, there were many more firsthand accounts and inspiring sermon-like speeches than I have ever heard at a pro-Palestinian rally—and I have photographed 11 of those rallies and marches since October 7.

At the Palestinian demonstrations, I am always impressed by the faithful who momentarily step aside from the crowd to fulfill what is termed ‘salat’—praying five times a day. Like their Muslim brothers, many Jews in attendance today either prayed by themselves, or allowed the Hasidic Jews in attendance to bind them with tefillin—leather straps—to remind them of the Jewish people’s bondage in Israel and their connection to G_d. Deut. 6:8, “You shall bind them as a sign upon your hand, and they shall be for a reminder between your eyes.”

Not surprisingly, if both sides would strike a middle ground, their respective demonstrations would be far more effective. The pro-Palestinians should add more substance to their programs; the pro-Israel demonstrators should add a little more emotion and color.

The Haredi Jews and Other Counter-Demonstrators. There is a sect of ultra-Orthodox Jews who oppose the State of Israel. Known as Haredi (or Charedim), their opposition can be traced to the late 19th Century when Theodor Herzl founded the Modern Zionist movement. Rabbi Joseph Dov Solveichik believed the Zionist movement was akin to an earlier false messianic sect that led adherents down the wrong path. In 1903, Rabbi Sholom Dovber Schneersohn published a polemic, arguing that Zionism would substitute a secular Jewish state for a religious Jewish identity. Cynically, one might find a more sinister subtext underlying the opposition to Zionism: the opposing rabbis might have been protecting their status as the intermediaries between Jews and G_d.

As regular readers know, I was both shocked and fascinated when I first encountered the Haredi demonstrating in Brooklyn three weeks ago along with the Palestinians. Early today, I encountered two of them a short distance from the entrance to the Media Section. I don’t think they chose that location randomly.

When I returned an hour later, their number had grown; the police were standing off to the side; and some people were arguing with the men in black. I passed this area several more times during the course of the day as I moved through the crowd. By the time I next passed by the Haredi, the police had formed a protective barricade using their bikes. Later in the day there was an area encircled with yellow police tape. When I left for the day, the yellow tape encircled the ‘entire’ block. Motorcycle cops now lined the street.

This group of Haredi differed significantly from those in Brooklyn. There, the Haredi were visibly uncomfortable, looking down at their feet, almost cowering. Although today several members were visibly uncomfortable as they stood in the public eye, the majority were defiant and boisterous. They chanted; they argued with people who heckled them; they exuded confidence.

I also saw one African-American man encircled by police throwing down middle fingers to a group of apparent Jews. One person rose to the bait and referred to the man using highly offensive language. For the record, I only heard the offensive remarks; I did not see the speaker. Of course, those heckling the African-American man proved that bigotry is not a singular phenomenon, limited to anti-Semitism alone. When attending a demonstration denouncing anti-Semitism, it is best to avoid revealing your own bigotry against another group.

The incident was regrettable and pointless street theater. Both sides knew they were engaged in a performance, and I sense, both sides found it amusing. This was schoolyard taunting. Nobody was going to throw a punch, although the police presence certainly discouraged physical contact. One passerby yelled at the Jewish demonstrators, telling them to just ignore the guy. Good advice. It was one guy. By taking his bait, the Jewish demonstrators simply elevated his stature.

As for pro-Palestinian demonstrators, none were visible. One newspaper article reported that a local Palestinian leader advised the Palestinian community to steer clear. Was he saying, “Give them their day”? Stanley Kubrick’s Paths of Glory comes to mind. A Christmas truce (so to speak), before the deadly trench warfare resumed.

After the March for Israel ended, I walked to the White House. I have previously attended several marches and rallies where the demonstrators have headed to the White House after the main event concluded. The Secret Service apparently anticipated this possibility. The portion of Pennsylvania Avenue running past the Treasury and the White House was closed off. Not a soul on the street.

Obviously, I am not privy to White House security deliberations, but I would wager that officials were concerned that a demonstration in front of the White House might draw counter-demonstrators, and without advanced planning, the Secret Service and other police assets could not provide the pro-Israeli demonstrators protections equivalent to those that were provided for today’s main event.

The Hostage Families. Toward the end of the program, three hostage families took the podium, revealing the unimaginable horrors that they and their loved ones have experienced since October 7. During the last six weeks, viewers of cable news have been subjected to unending doses of similar heart-rendering accounts. I immediately change the channel whenever Anderson Cooper or Stephanie Ruhle indicate that they will be interviewing a hostage-family member following the commercial break.

For me, seeing the hostage families brings back memories of the Uvalde, Texas families who spoke at the rally I attended in Houston coinciding with the NRA’s annual convention 18 months ago. I subsequently saw the same family members in Washington, D.C. during two demonstrations demanding bans on assault weapons. Survivors of these sorts of horrific incidents are willing to relive the horror over and over as part of their effort to keep their dead or kidnapped relatives in the public eye, with the hope that something will be done to prevent a similar tragedy from befalling another family, but I am not obligated to watch.

Today’s speakers were dignified, poised, and elegant. I don’t think I saw a tear coming from the podium. I don’t know how they do it.

The Speakers. For those who didn’t watch the live feed, you can watch the rally’s entire program here. To summarize what I saw and heard coming from the stage:

My one regret is not being in the pit when Senate Majority Leader, Chuck Schumer, Speaker of the House Mike Johnson, and Representative Hakeem Jeffries spoke. I was on the scissors lift, having recently finished my first tour in the pit. I didn’t hear anything unexpected in their speeches, but while Schumer spoke, I noted his forceful delivery, which was a bit louder, sharper, and polished than usual.

Of all the speakers, I was particularly impressed by the group that the organizers referred to as the Voices of Allies. Included were Pastor John Hagee, Founder and Senior Pastor of the, Cornerstone Church in San Antonio, Dr. Rochelle Ford, President of Dillard University, and Anila Ali, a Pakistani American Women and Women’s Rights Activist. The choice of Hagee, a prominent televangelist, was somewhat surprising. In 2008, Hagee claimed that the anti-Christ will be a “homosexual” and “partially Jewish, as was Adolf Hitler.” He also has suggested that the Holocaust was willed by God because many Jews ignored Theodor Herzel’s Zionist movement.

As is often the case with religious celebrants of all faiths, Hagee was anything but succinct—he remarks were too lengthy, but his sermon-like speech toed the line, focusing on the role assigned to the Jewish people in scripture. He told the audience, “Israel you are not alone.” He then called on G_d to “give you the wisdom of Solomon; the courage of King David; and the victories of Joshua.” He then led the crowd in chanting, “We are one.” Condemning Hamas to the ash-heap of history, Hagee commanded, “Look at history, from Pharaoh to Hamin to Hitler, all of these anti-Semitic cowards are remembered only for their failed attempt to destroy G_d’s chosen people.” Fire and brimstone; red meat thrown to the crowd.

Following Pastor Hagee, Dr. Ford spoke, telling the crowd that there are “too many innocent people in Gaza and Israel who have died.” She then drew a distinction between the Palestinians and Hamas. Then making the connection between Jews and Blacks, she told the crowd, “We must remember that it was was Black American troops that helped to liberate the concentration camps during World War II. We must remember that it was Jewish leaders . . . who marched with Dr. Martin Luther King to end segregation and advocate for civil rights.” She believes Black Americans must support the Jewish People against anti-Semitism and in bringing the hostages home.

Anila Ali then affirmed “to my Abrahamic brothers and sisters that you are not alone.” In discussing the 1947 bloody British partition of Pakistan, Ali told the crowd that the elders of that era told Pakistanis, “Let’s Move On.” “We accepted the borders . . . In that spirit, I declare that the war to destroy the Jews and the Jewish homeland must end once and for all,” adding, “The Holy Koran repeatedly expresses reverence for the Torah and praises the Jewish People.”

The demonstrators welcomed all three allies of the Jewish People, often cheering during their respective speeches.

I was also impressed by Eric Fingerhut and William Daroff, the heads of the two groups who organized the Rally for Israel. Both were polished and highly effective speakers. It is not so much what they said, but how they delivered their collective message. Rather than one speaking for five minutes, followed by the other, they chose what might be described as a “call and response” mode. One would utter two or three sentences, followed by the other either amplifying the message or extending it. And so it went, back and forth as a highly polished ping-pong game.

Very early on, I was present when CNN’s Van Jones made his remarks. He has a relaxed, easily digestible speaking style. His primary focus was on peace, which at one point proved problematic. He indirectly called for a cease-fire, which provoked a negative response from the crowd.

During the 3.5-hour program, there were other notable speeches. To hear those, you can scroll through the video of the program, which is marked so that individual speeches are easily accessible.

The Musicians. Several Jewish-centric musicians performed during the program, providing needed respites from the speeches. Among those performing were Ishay Ribo and Omer Adam, both Israeli singers, and the Maccabeats, described as an Acapella group that traces it origins to New York’s Yeshiva University. There were others, but I did not catch their names.

Solomon and all the others in the front section were conversant with these performers and their music, often enthusiastically singing along.

I am not sure why. Charitably speaking, the music was primarily rooted in folk rock, but largely without a backbeat. At times, I thought I heard shades of K-Pop, Boys to Men, and hip-hop, but highly diluted imitations. The music was anodyne, homogenized, and forgettable.

I was surprised that the organizers did not entice at least one superstar into making an appearance. Where was Barbara ‘Yentl’ Streisand? She is out hawking her just-released autobiography, so her economic interests coincided with the event. If not Babs, then why not Paul Simon, Neil Diamond, Billy Joel, Adam Lambert, Lenny Kravitz, or Max Weinberg, who could have brought his pal Bruce Springsteen along? Surely one or more of these performers would have contributed their time. For that matter, where was Jake Gyllenhaal, who was born Jewish? He could have given Taylor Swift her scarf back in front of 290,000 people—had word leaked out, more likely 5,000,000 million.

Yes, I am considerably older than Solomon and his friends, but so too were many of the adults standing further back in the Blue and General Admission Sections. The musical interludes should have taken us into account, if for no other reason than to inject energy into the crowd.

After the speeches wrapped up, the musicians were given free reign of the stage. After three or four rather lackluster songs, I decided to call it a day. As I walked out, I passed a noticeably bored police officer. As I walked over to her, I said, “They never know how to end these things.” She responded with a laugh, saying “No, they don’t.” Apparently a lot of people agreed with me. As I looked toward the Washington Monument, I saw a largely empty field. Most of the demonstrators were gone.

And One More Thing. Early in the day, I saw a large group wearing orange and blue tee-shirts marching down 14th Street, headed toward the Mall. “Berman Stands With Israel," was emblazoned in large block letting across the shirt fronts. I approached one of the students, asking him where Berman was located and whether it was a high school. He paused, and then told me he didn’t know where it was located. I responded, “You don’t know where your high school is located?” The student then proceeded forward.

An adult minder saw the exchange, and approached me. She told me that it was a school located in Rockville, Maryland. Then the light went off in my head. Fifty years have passed since I graduated high school. We didn’t think we had pedophiles in those days—five years ago when newspaper reports surfaced, the Class of ‘73 learned that the honors math teacher had allegedly been grooming and molesting students for decades. Within a week of these reports, he committed suicide.

We certainly didn’t have school shootings. Owning a gun? I don’t think it crossed anyone’s mind (unless their parents were deer hunters).

In retrospect, I give that kid a lot of credit. He was being cautious. Given that the March for Israel was in part about condemning recent anti-Semitic incidents, I can’t castigate his cautious attitude.

Conclusions. During their joint presentation, Eric Fingerhut and William Daroff, the presidents of the two Jewish organizations that sponsored the March for Israel, both acknowledged their amazement that the event was conceived and organized in just seven days. I suspect that they contracted with a firm for onsite logistical assistance—permitting, staging, electrical, security, porta-potties, and other necessities. That firm or another most likely built what was a highly professional website. Another public-relations firm probably designed the catchy graphics.

But at the end of the day, Jewish organizations from around the country were the ones who hired the buses, booked the hotel rooms, raised money, and convinced people to sign up. The collective effort was impressive.

The program was balanced in terms of speakers, covering all the bases—hostages; anti-Semitism in general, and specifically on college campuses; Israel’s survival; and Jewish pride. While some people voiced objections to several speakers, for the most part, the organizers put together an A-list. While the musical entertainment was not to my taste, Solomon and his peers loved it, so my opinion is irrelevant.

When the organizers stage a second demonstration, I would recommend more signage be distributed equally throughout the crowd, along with more flags blowing in the wind. While I understand the focus on television coverage, I would rearrange the staging, providing the audience with clear lines of sight to the stage.

If the event is again staged in Washington, D.C., I would place the stage on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, with the cameras at 45-degree angles to the steps, with a single pool camera facing the stage. Risers for photographers would be nice, but I am a partisan.

I have no idea what the D.C. police said or cautioned, but I would strongly recommend a physical rather than a figurative march. Marches yield the most dramatic visuals, although they admittedly pose the greatest security risks. Possibly, the group could march from the Lincoln Memorial to the Capitol, and back.

But before returning to Washington, the organizers should consider regional demonstrations. Chicago has seen twice-weekly pro-Palestinian demonstrations and marches throughout the central business district since October 7. With the exception of a poorly attended spur-of-the-moment demonstration in Daley Plaza, there has been no pro-Israel demonstration in Chicago’s downtown area. If security concerns are holding back Chicago’s Jewish Community, its leaders should consider Solider Field or the United Center.

One of the reasons I flew to Washington for today’s rally was to balance my coverage. My files are overflowing with images from pro-Palestinian rallies. Other photojournalists have raised the same concern. I don’t take sides. I simply want to visually depict both sides equally, which is hard to do when one of the sides remains in the proverbial locker room.

Copyright 2023, Jack B. Siegel. All Rights Reserved. Do Not Alter, Copy, Display, Distribute, Download, Duplicate, or Reproduce Without the Prior Written Consent of the Copyright Holder.