I am troubled by the new hostility toward Jews I see in American public life. At times, admiration seems to give way to suspicion, and disagreement to hatred. Yet America has never spoken with one voice, and criticism of Israel or its advocates is not automatically hatred of Jews. The danger begins when we stop making that distinction.
AIPAC—the American Israel Public Affairs Committee—is a political organization; Jews are a diverse people with varied nationalities, beliefs, loyalties, and political convictions. Conflating the two is intellectually careless and morally dangerous. A Jewish neighbor is no more accountable for AIPAC than a Muslim neighbor is for every organization that invokes Islam.
I believe AIPAC’s political influence should be challenged and diminished through democratic means. Its own account describes work to elect supporters of the American alliance with Israel and defeat its detractors. Citizens have every right to question that agenda, examine political spending, and oppose candidates who support it. No organization deserves immunity from scrutiny because it associates its cause with a people’s security.
Scrutiny, however, requires evidence. Claims about wealthy donors should specify who gave what, and which decisions the money may have influenced. Vague accusations of hidden control can reproduce the prejudices we should resist. My objection is to concentrated political power and the influence of money—and it must apply consistently, regardless of a donor’s religion or ancestry.
The Holocaust belongs in this discussion because it helps explain why security matters so profoundly to many Jews. But history requires precision: AIPAC’s predecessor began operating in 1954, amid efforts to build American support for Israel. Its origins cannot be reduced to Hitler’s persecution alone. Understanding Jewish fears does not require endorsing every organization that claims to address them.
Political anger can also obscure an extraordinary human inheritance. Consider Jewish contributions to science, philosophy, medicine, literature, music, film, and the arts. Again and again, Jewish thinkers and creators have enlarged the possibilities of human life. Their achievements belong to humanity, even as their Jewish backgrounds remain part of their stories.
I would not turn that admiration into a competition among religions. Jewish identity can be religious, cultural, ancestral, or some combination of these; achievement does not establish inherited superiority. The better question is what we can learn from traditions of scholarship, argument, perseverance, and inquiry—and from the individuals who carried those practices into new fields.
The Nobel Prize has often served as my personal, if imperfect, yardstick for work that changes our understanding. I have particular respect for the prizes awarded in Sweden. Still, no committee is infallible: many deserving people go unrecognized, and an award cannot certify every opinion or action of its recipient.
I view the Nobel Peace Prize, selected by the Norwegian Nobel Committee, with greater skepticism. Some choices seem political to me, shaped by the priorities of powerful countries. That is an assessment, not proof that every award serves a Western agenda. Credible criticism examines specific decisions; blanket condemnation is no more illuminating than unquestioning reverence.
Albert Einstein occupies a special place in my imagination. Sometimes I feel as though God sent him to offer humankind a glimpse of divine brightness. I mean that as an expression of wonder: Einstein revealed relationships in nature that others had not seen. His example makes intelligence seem astonishing—and deeply humbling.
Brilliance alone does not explain whom I admire; courage matters, especially the courage to question one’s own side. Among the Americans I most admire are Bernie Sanders, Noam Chomsky, and Norman Finkelstein, in no particular order. I need not agree with every position they take to value their willingness to confront power and withstand opposition. They all criticize AIPAC.
Their Jewish backgrounds also expose the absurdity of treating Jews as a single political bloc. Jewish disagreement is visible to anyone willing to listen. Some support AIPAC; others oppose it. Some defend Israeli government policies; others condemn them. An honest conversation leaves room for those differences instead of deciding in advance what a Jewish person must think.
When I say that Jews occupy the highest places in my personal gallery of admired people, I am expressing gratitude. My extravagant impulse is to say that my first ten people are all Jewish and the next place begins at fifteen. But affection needs no invented arithmetic. These individuals have shaped my understanding of knowledge, justice, and human responsibility.
To emulate them is demanding: read carefully, ask difficult questions, and value education beyond its financial rewards. Refuse to surrender conscience to a party, government, religious authority, or community. Examine evidence even when it unsettles a cherished conviction. Admiration matters when it changes our habits; otherwise, it is only a comfortable sentiment.
The same conscience must recognize Palestinian suffering. Defending Jews against antisemitism does not require excusing injustice toward Palestinians; defending Palestinians does not permit threats against Jews. Human dignity cannot depend on someone’s flag, scripture, or whose grief dominates the news. Our principles become credible only when we apply them across those boundaries.
If AIPAC’s influence concerns us, let us organize, vote, demand transparency, and advocate policies grounded in equal rights. We can challenge political influence we consider harmful through lawful persuasion and democratic reform. Turning that effort into hostility toward Jews would betray its moral purpose and target people who bear no responsibility for the decisions we oppose.
I am not Jewish. My admiration comes from what Jewish thinkers, creators, and dissenters have given me—and the world I inhabit. We have much to learn from their examples. Let us challenge power precisely, recognize achievement with gratitude, and meet one another without collective suspicion. Hatred teaches us whom to blame; wisdom teaches us how to become better.
No comments:
Post a Comment