It's this simple: An article about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict cannot appear in The Times without eliciting instant and intense response. A photograph of a grieving mother is considered a provocation, an interview with a radical on either side is deemed willful propaganda. Detailed studies of column inches devoted to one or another subject arrive weekly. One reader, Leo Rennert of Bethesda, Md., has written to me 164 times (as of Friday) over the past 17 months to comment on the Middle East coverage. His messages are seldom love letters.

On this issue, love letters are as common as compromise, and The Times's exoneration from charges of bias is as likely as an imminent peace.

After reading thousands of criticisms (as well as insults, accusations and threats) of The Times's Middle East coverage, I'm still waiting for one reader to say the paper has ever been unfair in a way that was damaging to both sides. Given the frequency of articles on the subject, it would be hard to imagine that such a piece has not been published. In fact, I've seen a few myself. But to see them, I have had to suppress my own feelings about what is happening in Israel and Palestine.

I can't say I'm very good at it. How could I be - how could anyone be - when considering a conflict so deep, so unabating, so riddled with pain? Who can be dispassionate about an endless tragedy?

This doesn't exonerate The Times, nor does the fact that criticism comes from each side suggest that the paper's doing something right. But no one who tries to walk down the middle of a road during a firefight could possibly emerge unscathed.

Critics will say The Times attempts nothing of the sort, that it has thrown in its lot with one side in the conflict. But let's keep motive out of this discussion. Neither you nor I know what the motives of the editors might be. Nor should their motives even matter. We can judge them only on what they do.

Some things The Times does and does not do (apart from having extremely opinionated opinion pages, which color the way the rest of the paper is read but are not the issue under discussion today):

It does not provide history lessons. A report on an assassination attempt on a Hamas leader in Gaza that kills nearby innocents will most likely mention the immediate provocation - perhaps a Palestinian attack on an Israeli settlement. But, says the angered reader, what about the murderous assault that provoked the settlement attack? And, says his aggrieved counterpart on the other side, what about the ambush that preceded the assault? And so on back to the first intifada, and then to 1973 and 1967 and 1956 and 1948 - an endless chain of regression and recrimination and pain that cannot be represented in a year, much less in a single dispatch in a single day.

It eschews passion. If your cause needs good publicity - as both the Palestinians and the Israelis definitely do - conventional news story tropes can only be infuriating: bland recitations of presumed facts followed by challenges to those facts, assertions by spokesmen instantly countered by opposing spokesmen. The paper's seeming reluctance, for instance, to report evidence of incitement to racial or religious hatred derives in part, I believe, from a subconscious effort to stick to the noninflammatory middle and to keep things civil, even when civility leaked out of the conflict long ago.

But partisans desire heat. Detachment itself becomes suspect. If you are not with us, you are therefore against us.

It makes selections. For people on either side who see the conflict as a life-and-death issue - as it certainly is - the Middle East is the only story that matters. Each day's reports in The Times are tiny fragments of a tragic epic. Yes, there were demonstrations against settler relocation this morning, but how can you ignore the afternoon's additional construction on the West Bank barrier? Or, I know you gave my version of events yesterday, but why are you presenting only the other side's version today?

This dilemma is aggravated by the way certain events force themselves into the newspaper. Violence trumps virtually everything else. If you are covering a debate and a terror bomb detonates two blocks away, you race to the bombing site. Terrorists have a horrifying way of influencing news coverage, but it works.

It does not cede definitive authority to other organizations and sources. Last Tuesday, "Israel, on Its Own, Is Shaping the Borders of the West Bank," by Steven Erlanger, angered Michael Brown for its unelaborated statement that Palestinians "argue that all Israeli settlements beyond the green line are illegal." The Times, Brown believes, is obligated to note that "it's not just the Palestinians who say it's illegal, but U.N. Security Council resolutions."

Ethan Bronner, the paper's deputy foreign editor, counters:"We view ourselves as neutral and unbound by such judgments. We cite them, but we do not live by them." He adds, "In 1975, when the U.N. General Assembly labeled Zionism as racism, would it have been logical for The Times to repeat that description as fact from then on? Obviously not. We take note of official views, but we don't adopt them as our own."

Nor does the paper accept as authoritative the reporting of others. A common criticism I receive is built around "proof" of something The Times has not itself reported. Frequently such evidence is drawn from openly partisan sources, and when I cite to critics contrary evidence provided by Times reporters, that evidence is in turn dismissed as partisan. The representatives of If Americans Knew earnestly believe that the information they presented to me about the killing of Palestinian children to be "simple objective criteria." But I don't think any of us can be objective about our own claimed objectivity.

It is limited by geography. The Times, like virtually every American news organization, maintains its bureau in West Jerusalem. Its reporters and their families shop in the same markets, walk the same streets and sit in the same cafes that have long been at risk of terrorist attack. Some advocates of the Palestinian cause call this "structural geographic bias."

If the reporters lived in Gaza or Ramallah, this argument goes, they would feel exposed to the daily struggles and dangers of life behind Palestinian lines and would presumably become more empathetic toward the Palestinians.

I don't know about empathy, but I do know that the angle of vision determines what you see. A reporter based in secular, Europeanized Tel Aviv would experience an Israel vastly different from one living in Jerusalem; a reporter with a home in Ramallah would most likely find an entirely different world. The Times ought to give it a try.

It's only a newspaper. It eventually comes to this: Journalism itself is inadequate to tell this story. Like recorded music, which is only a facsimile of music, journalism is a substitute, a stand-in. It's what we call on when we can't know something firsthand. It's not reality, but a version of reality, and both daily deadlines and limited space make even the best journalism a reductionist version of reality.

In preparing to write this article, my conversations with Michael Brown and Andrea Levin, with various other parties of interest and with The Times's editors consumed hours. My e-mail encounters with readers have consumed months. To all who would assert that squeezing what I've drawn from this research into these few paragraphs has stripped the many arguments of their nuance or robbed them of their power, I have no rebuttal. The more important and complicated an issue, or the closer it is to the edge of life and death and the future of nations, the less likely its essences can be distilled by that wholly inadequate but absolutely necessary servant, daily journalism.

I find this profoundly offensive, but not nearly as repellent as a calumny that has popped up in my e-mail with lamentable frequency - the charge that The Times is anti-Semitic. Even if you stipulate that The Times's reporters and editors favor the Palestinian cause (something I am not remotely prepared to do), this is an astonishing debasement. If reporting that is sympathetic to Palestinians, or antipathetic to Israelis, is anti-Semitism, what is real anti-Semitism? What word do you have left for conscious discrimination, or open hatred, or acts of intentional, ethnically motivated violence?

The Times may be - is - imperfect. It is not anti-Semitic. Calling it that defames the accuser far more than it does the accused.