When there are no words
I am not Jewish, but my wife is. As are my children. Most of my closest friends and colleagues are Jewish, at least those that I have made since moving to New York City. I have struggled for days to come to some kind of understanding about what is happening in Israel. All over my social media feed, friends and family are posting messages about the conflict. I, on the other hand, haven’t been able to find the words.
“In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” — Martin Luther King Jr.
Am I a silent friend? Messages like this from my Jewish friends are seeking statements of visible, vocal support for Israel in response to the heinous, unjustifiable terrorist acts of Hamas. I Stand With Israel. Someone started a thread requesting “a pic of you in Israel to show solidarity.” My feed is now also full of family vacation photos from Israel, compounding our regret that we never made it a priority ourselves.
At the same time, others who have posted statements of support for one side or the other — or who haven’t been clear enough about their allegiance—have been bullied by “the other side” into removing their posts. Institutions have been pressured to take a stand. Students have pressured administrators to make affirmative statements. Williams College President Maud Mandel took a different approach, noting that when she speaks, she speaks on behalf of thousands of people who together make up “the Williams community.” On topics of national and world events, she does not believe it is the president’s job to speak for the whole community, or even that it is possible to do so. It’s not easy to find the right thing to say.
Casualties of the terrorist assault have been widely reported, although the specific facts have been continually updated over the course of the past week. As of this writing, genocidal crimes including the killing, kidnapping, and assault — including rape, sexual assault, and genital mutilation — of thousands of Israelis and other foreign nationals have been confirmed. The reports of these crimes are almost too upsetting to comprehend.
Of course, I do not “stand with terrorism.” Of course, I stand with the Jewish people against these atrocities and with every decent person in support of these victims. But the binary nature of this choice seems devoid of meaning. Isn’t there more to be said?
The rules of war, or international humanitarian law, are universal. The Geneva Conventions, which form the core elements of modern international humanitarian law, have been ratified by an astounding 196 nations. Very few international treaties have this level of support.
Following World War II, the world was sickened by the barbarous acts exposed during the Nuremberg and Tokyo war crimes trials. Inspired to prevent future crimes, if not war itself, a series of conferences were held in 1949 reaffirming, expanding, and updating the prior Geneva and Hague Conventions. The conventions were further updated with additional civilian protections in 1977, and the International Criminal Court was established in 2002.
The Geneva Conventions establish international legal standards for humanitarian treatment in war. They define the basic rights of wartime prisoners, civilians and military personnel, establish protections for the wounded and sick, and provide protections for the civilians in and around a war-zone. More broadly, the modern rules of law separate the justification for war from the humane prosecution of war.
Today, according to the rules of international law, countries are forbidden to use force against each other except in self-defense. And regardless of the rationale for the use of force, the humanitarian laws govern the conduct of the war itself. A core principle is that civilians cannot be targeted for military purposes, or disproportionately harmed as a means to a military end. The kidnapping, torturing, sexual assault, and murdering of unarmed civilians are war crimes.
International law further recognizes the rights of civilians to be protected from the dangers of war and to receive the help they need. Every possible care must be taken to avoid harming them or their houses, or destroying their means of survival. The imposition of a blockade, for instance, with the purpose of depriving civilians of the goods essential for their survival would appear, on its face, to be prohibited under international humanitarian law and a war crime.
A war crime cannot justify a war crime. — The Telos Group
My admiration for the Jewish people is deep and personal. I’ve written previously about my relationship with and feeling for the Jews. Just about a year ago, I wrote a piece about immigration, focusing in part on Jewish immigration to the US, inspired by Ken Burns’ documentary The US and the Holocaust. Burns explored the degree to which Hitler’s hatred of the Jews was likely as much political as it was racist. At the time, I wrote:
According to Northwestern historian Peter Hayes, not only did Hitler view the Jews as dangerous for their genetics but for the ideas they represented. Jews were responsible for the ideas of conscience, fair play, the golden rule, and international cooperation, all of which were reprehensible to Hitler and antithetical to Nazism. Yale historian Timothy Snyder agrees. Hitler saw the Jews as responsible for every global idea, every universal idea, anything that allows us to see each other as people rather than as members of a race.
I had not previously connected Jews and Judaism so thoroughly to these fundamental ideas, ideas that form the basis of my own moral and political beliefs. In spite of a history rife with persecution, Judaism retains an all-encompassing dedication to uniting the ideals of justice and mercy. The Jewish God has both attributes and both are constantly present. The imperatives of justice, ethics, and morality are religious ideals and obligations, rather than just good behavior. Among US Jews today, 72% say leading an ethical and moral life is essential to their Jewish identity.
As I typically do, when I am struggling to organize my own thoughts and to find words to express myself, I look to the words of others I respect, in this case, Nicholas Kristof, Fareed Zakaria, and even my own friends. One of the early helpful insights I gleaned actually came from a Facebook post. My friend Eric Rothman, one of the first and most valued friends I made upon coming to New York in 1994, posted:
I am grateful for my friends who have reached out, am praying for peace, and am fearful that things will get worse for Israel, for the Palestinian people, and for Jews around the world. — Eric Rothman
His words began to help me crystalize my own feelings. I was afraid. Beyond the feelings of shock and horror at the terrorist assault on innocent civilians, I was fearful for what would come next. Israel obviously has the right and the obligation to defend itself, but how could revenge help? And could it actually make things worse, if that were possible? And he also made me see that it is, in fact, possible to hold all of these feelings at the same time. Perhaps it’s even morally necessary.
Fareed Zakaria, seemingly one of the last thoughtful long-form commentators on television, appeared on NYU Professor Scott Galloway’s podcast two days later to discuss the conflict. In discussing the motivation of Hamas, he describes the years of political failures of the tyrannical, radical, and corrupt Hamas government and the resulting marginalization of Palestine on the global stage, despite growing sympathies for the Palestinian people from progressives around the world.
As Israel moved closer to a historic normalization of relations with Saudi Arabia, a deal opposed by Hamas and its closest ally Iran, Hamas seemed willing to “burn the house down,” in order to stop it. Zakaria argues Hamas had three goals: to trigger a massive Israeli reaction, generate broad Arab sympathy for Palestine, and break up the deal with Saudi Arabia. He suggests that terrorists are always looking for the reaction and that Israel is playing right into their plan.
In a piece this week, Nicholas Kristof had harsh words for Hamas, a “misogynist and repressive terror organization” and expressed support for its elimination. But he cautioned that dismantling a terrorist organization is harder than it looks, as the US learned in fighting ISIS, the Taliban, and others, and the human collateral casualties can be significant.
It’s not difficult to feel sympathy for the Palestinian people. There are 2.2 million people in Gaza. It is among the most densely populated areas on the planet. Fifty percent of the population are children. Youth unemployment is approaching 70%, by some estimates. Sixty percent live below the poverty line and 75% lack access to clean drinking water. In 2021, António Guterres, secretary-general of the United Nations, described conditions for children in the Gaza Strip as “hell on earth.”
So far, the health ministry in the Gaza Strip has estimated at least 2,215 Palestinians, including 724 children, have been killed and 8,714 others wounded.
“If we owe a moral responsibility to Israeli children, then we owe the same moral responsibility to Palestinian children. Their lives have equal weight. If you care about human life only in Israel or only in Gaza, then you don’t actually care about human life.” — Nicholas Kristof
We can denounce Hamas’ barbarous attacks on civilians while simultaneously imploring Israeli to let justice and mercy — as well as a commitment to international humanitarian law — guide its response. These two sentiments are not mutually exclusive.
Revenge is the response Hamas was seeking. Retribution will not bring peace. Twenty years of Israeli retaliatory bombings in the Palestinian territories have shown that. In the end, this is what I want to say. Why can’t there be another option that doesn’t result in more loss of innocent human lives? Through their deep, deep pain and sorrow, please let it be the Jews who find a path that relies on their values of conscience, fair play, the golden rule, and international cooperation rather than vengeance and violence.
“Nothing is gained, and nothing is made clearer, when we deny suffering. No cycle of violence has ever been broken by ignoring the context that produced it. We can see all these things at once. And if there are moments when we can’t, we must keep trying.” — Rabbi Miriam Grossman
