Universities are obsessed with the terms, “inclusion,” and “belonging.” Whatever the crisis, college leaders furiously click their ruby slippers, whisper “there’s no place like inclusion, there’s no place like belonging,” and wait for all of us to awaken in the bosom of Kansas and Auntie Em. But in practice, we never do. Least of all the Jews.

Every antisemitic act on a campus (an attack on a menorah, urination on a Hillel building, spitting on a student, a threat to shoot up a Jewish dining hall) gives the lie to the twin mantras of “inclusion” and “belonging.” Each episode elicits another legalistic statement from a president or dean, each one weaker and more cautious than the last. As we confront antisemitism in academia, how nice it would be instead to read a heartfelt statement from a college president that begins, “Jews are us.”

Why are university leaders so incapable of conveying the most basic feelings of inclusion and belonging for the Jews on their campuses? How can they do better? I offer seven simple dos and don’ts.

First, do use the word “Jews” explicitly whenever making comments and issuing statements to the community. Probably best to avoid, “Calling for the annihilation of Jews is context dependent.” Instead, try this: “Jews on our campus have been attacked. Jews have been made to feel unwelcome and excluded. This is a violation of our core principle of inclusion. Stop doing it now.”

And remember, attacks on Israelis — just because they are Israelis — are attacks on Jews. Attempts to boycott Israel — just because it is Israel — are a form of discrimination against Jews. The Hamas killing spree was targeted at Jews.

At the heart of every antisemitic campaign (as with the Boycott-Divest-Sanction (BDS) movement) is the desire to subvert any inclusion of Jews. The intent is to exclude Jews from the conversation, to force Jews underground, to force them out of the university, and out of the professions.

The goal is to disappear Jews from the public sphere. Like the Nazis before them, modern antisemites want to make Jews radioactive and untouchable. Sadly, every tepid statement from a university administrator that fails to use the word “Jew” advances the antisemite’s campaign. It helps to disappear Jews.

Second, do employ the word “value.” As in, “we value the Jews in our community.” We value their cultural affinity for learning and teaching, which is our core mission as an educational institution. We value their contributions to science, law, and the arts. We value their uniquely Jewish humor. Our academic family would be incomplete without Jews. Jews are an essential element of the rich mosaic that comprises our campus community.

Even a term such as “mosaic,” whose meaning when capitalized is, “relating to Moses,” cannot be invoked without a nod to the Jews. Moses, our greatest Biblical leader was not celebrated as a king, a politician, or a warrior, but rather as Moses Our Teacher — “Moshe Rabenu” in the Hebrew. Each of us aspires to that honorific. Jewish teachers add value to universities.

Third, when responding to an anti-Semitic incident, don’t say, “and all types of hate.” As history shows, antisemitism is not “all types of hate.” It is unique. If one is unwilling to admit that fact, one is utterly incapable of addressing the problem.

There are no religions that have preached hatred of others like major religions have preached hatred of Jews. There are no hermetically sealed conspiracy theories that savage others as they savage Jews. Alfred Dreyfus was accused and convicted because he was a Jew, Leo Frank was lynched because he was a Jew. The Rothschilds have been demonized throughout history because they are Jews. One must acknowledge and understand the uniqueness of antisemitism to begin to fight it effectively.

Attaching the gratuitous phrase “all types of hate” to each and every mention of antisemitism is a profound insult to Jews. Antisemitism exists whether or not there is any other type of hate. We need to know that you can address the very real and specific problem at hand. If I take my child to the hospital with a life-threatening illness, the last thing I want to hear from the doctor is about the misfortunes of the patients down the hall. My child does not have “all types of disease.” At this critical moment, they are irrelevant. Focus.

Fourth, don’t say, “and Islamophobia.” See above.

Fifth, don’t couch a statement of support in legal-ese. Do not cite Connecticut law to convince me that a crime was committed. I know vandalism when I see it. Draping a Palestinian flag on top of a Jewish religious display is vandalism. It is an act of religious bigotry and hatred. It cannot be tolerated. Do not preface the invitation to a vigil for slain innocents with a pedantic definition.

I know that rape and mutilation is intended to terrify and humiliate. Do not begin, “Hamas, [has been] classified as a terrorist organization by the U.S. government.” It undermines the impact of the statement and buries the lede. If girls had been raped and mutilated and murdered by the Middle Eastern chapter of Mothers Against Drunk Driving (presumably not on any government watch list), would the crimes have been any less depraved?

Sixth, don’t qualify a statement with, “Regardless of your feelings about,” or “The situation in the Middle East is complicated.” Yes, the Middle East is a complicated place. But so is Manhattan, or Moscow, or the Milky Way. Any such preamble tells the Jews in your audience that you are unsure of your message. It signals to the Jew-haters that if attacked, you will fold.

By conceding that some things are complicated, you may think you are demonstrating your own reasonableness and that your statement will be palatable to the largest possible audience. You are mistaken. Who are you trying to persuade anyway? The Hamas-worshippers who celebrate the murder of Jewish children? These people are not susceptible to persuasion. They cannot be won over by your reasonableness.

In fact, they don’t think the Middle East is complicated at all. They know it must be rendered Judenrein. That’s pretty simple.

Use unambiguous declarative sentences that affirm our shared values of decency and respect. Reiterate our shared abhorrence of evil. Speak directly to the Jews here on campus as you would to any other dear friend in need. Speak to us in morally clear and unqualified language. Shed your disclaimers. If you do, we will hear and be comforted by your statement. If you cannot speak to us in direct, unqualified affirmative terms, don’t even bother.

Seventh, don’t say, “afraid.” As in “Jewish students are afraid to go to class,” “afraid to wear a kippah or a Star of David.” We, Jews are not afraid. We are indignant. We stand up to be counted openly. We do not hide behind closed doors. We, Jews show our unmasked faces at rallies, we sign our names to our opinions.

We are disgusted when we hear antisemitic slurs as we walk to Sabbath services on campus. We are disgusted by the closed-mindedness of some of our colleagues. It is our campus. They are our labs, our gyms, and our cafeterias as much as anyone’s. We belong here in all capacities because we earned our way in. We will continue to inhabit all of our spaces, unafraid.

Final words of advice to college presidents and administrators: Listen to your hearts, not your lawyers. “Jew” is beautiful.

Say our name!

Morris is a professor of radiology and biomedical imaging at Yale. He is the founder of the Yale Forum for Jewish Faculty and Friends.

QOSHE - Don’t be shy to say ‘Jew’: When Jews are attacked on campus, say our name - Evan Morris
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Don’t be shy to say ‘Jew’: When Jews are attacked on campus, say our name

3 26
05.02.2024

Universities are obsessed with the terms, “inclusion,” and “belonging.” Whatever the crisis, college leaders furiously click their ruby slippers, whisper “there’s no place like inclusion, there’s no place like belonging,” and wait for all of us to awaken in the bosom of Kansas and Auntie Em. But in practice, we never do. Least of all the Jews.

Every antisemitic act on a campus (an attack on a menorah, urination on a Hillel building, spitting on a student, a threat to shoot up a Jewish dining hall) gives the lie to the twin mantras of “inclusion” and “belonging.” Each episode elicits another legalistic statement from a president or dean, each one weaker and more cautious than the last. As we confront antisemitism in academia, how nice it would be instead to read a heartfelt statement from a college president that begins, “Jews are us.”

Why are university leaders so incapable of conveying the most basic feelings of inclusion and belonging for the Jews on their campuses? How can they do better? I offer seven simple dos and don’ts.

First, do use the word “Jews” explicitly whenever making comments and issuing statements to the community. Probably best to avoid, “Calling for the annihilation of Jews is context dependent.” Instead, try this: “Jews on our campus have been attacked. Jews have been made to feel unwelcome and excluded. This is a violation of our core principle of inclusion. Stop doing it now.”

And remember, attacks on Israelis — just because they are Israelis — are attacks on Jews. Attempts to boycott Israel — just because it is Israel — are a form of discrimination against Jews. The Hamas killing spree was targeted at Jews.

At the heart of every antisemitic campaign (as with the Boycott-Divest-Sanction (BDS) movement) is the desire to subvert any inclusion of Jews. The intent is to exclude Jews........

© NY Daily News


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