Are We Prejudiced?

Recent unrest and demonstrations on university campuses have reminded us of student opposition to the Vietnam war, when young men with no desire to fight were objecting to being drafted and sent into battle. Critics of those demonstrations often accused the participants of being unwilling to serve their country.

Student opposition to the war in the Middle East, except for method, is very different. The issue behind it is more about taking sides. The participants claim a moral cause, objecting to American support for Israel, our financing and sending weapons and ammunition that are being used to kill Palestinians. They feel that even their schools are involved, through financial investments.

I confess to being hugely surprised by it all. I suspect that Joe Biden was surprised. First, because American support for Israel, right or wrong, has never wavered. And second, because Hamas initiated the current battle with a vicious surprise attack.

Some of the posters and chants at the student demonstrations have led to accusations of prejudice and antisemitism. And this is the part I feel a need to address.

Prejudice is a strong and obvious word. To behave with prejudice is to pre-judge, to make up your mind or react without knowing, or at least without considering the facts. (This is easy to do. I have discovered in these recent months that most Americans have no idea what might have provoked the event of October 7.)

Antisemitism is something else, more serious than prejudice. It means “against the Semites” (the descendants of Shem, eldest son of Noah), regardless of right or wrong or facts or circumstances. And they, the Jews, the descendants of Judah, are the semitic people. (Technically this definition includes the Arabs, who are “cousins” to the Jews, but this fact is ignored in modern speech.)

It was the Jews who suffered the ultimate result of hatred toward a people-group. Hitler tried to completely destroy them. And since then, any opposition to Israel is likely to be interpreted as antisemitism.

The international problem resulting is this:  The Jews established a country, “a sovereign state” as they like to say, the state called Israel. This positioned them as a responsible member of the world community, subject to the give and take, the approval and disapproval of all the others. Yet opposition to anything this state does is likely to be interpreted, by them or others, as antisemitic.

In this way the state of Israel sometimes wants to wear its Jewishness like a coat of armor. We can criticize the policies of France or Japan or Saudi and our points will be considered or maybe expected and ignored, but criticism of Israel will likely be interpreted as opposition to the Jews or antisemitism.

This causes me to appreciate more than ever the diversity of the United States. It helps us respond to the world with objectivity. And the world to respond fairly, honestly, to what we do and say.

Many years ago in Jordan, a young man who may have been Palestinian or may have been Jordanian (I really don’t remember, maybe never knew.) was a guest in our home. He was a university student, part of a group who came to our house once a week to study the Bible and play games and improve their English. Over a plate of homemade cookies, he told me how much he had admired Abraham Lincoln when he read about his freeing the slaves. “I loved him,” he kept saying.

And that had made him look up to America, he told me, but then we had failed him by our support for those who took Palestine and drove away its people.

“I thought you would do no wrong, and then you did.”

We had a long and serious conversation about American policies in the Middle East, and in conclusion he said to me:

“I hate your government, but I never met an American I didn’t like.”

I still can’t think of him without smiling.

God bless him for seeing and expressing so well the beautiful difference between the way we humans relate to power and the way we respond to people.