One Thing You Still Can't Do in Miami

By Mark C. Dressler

Growing up Irish-Catholic in suburban Philadelphia is probably not much different from growing up Italian-American in Boston or Polish-American in Chicago. Since I was of neither Jewish nor Arab background, I was more comfortable when discussions of the history and politics of the Middle East were interpreted by others. Any discussion of Israel and its conflict with the Palestinians was clouded with misunderstanding, and it included a heavy dose of defensiveness and guilt. I soon came to accept the analysis of the Middle East put forth by my Jewish-American friends and acquaintances: Israel was a tiny nation beleaguered by Arab hostility and Soviet machinations.

Israel: Sacred Cow in American Politics

My suburban Philadelphia high school had a large Jewish population. The Vietnam war was just as unpopular there as Israel's role in the 1967 Arab-Israeli war had been popular.

As a teenager, I opposed the Vietnam war, and in 1972 I volunteered to work as a door-to-door canvasser for George McGovern's Democratic presidential campaign. When I spoke to local Jewish-Americans about McGovern, I found they were not particularly interested in his pledge to end the Vietnam war; instead, these voters wanted to know what McGovern would do for Israel. When I replied that McGovern supported Israel so strongly that he was willing to commit US troops to defend Israel should the need ever arise, I was told that answer wasn't good enough, and I was asked a leave a majority of Jewish households.

The inconsistency of the campaign rhetoric gradually dawned on me. McGovern, the "peace and anti-intervention candidate" in 1972, opposed US involvement in Southeast Asia. Yet his platform supported an aggressively pro-Israel US Middle East policy, which could have included intervening militarily on Israel's side. This was my first inkling that Israel was a "sacred cow" in American politics.

In retrospect, I realize I suppressed such thoughts for fear of being called "anti-Semitic." This charge was once a powerful means to denounce those who hated Jews, but this term has now been stripped of virtually all meaning by some of Israel's supporters in America. These Americans—Jewish and Gentile—insist on labeling as "anti-Semitic" any and all opposition to Israel's policies, even when Israelis themselves object to the same policies.

Fear of "Anti-Semitism" label

In current usage, an "anti-Semite" is a non-Jew who criticizes Israel or who also discusses the internal contradictions and problems of the American Jewish community. Not the least of these contradictions is the unwillingness of mainstream American Jewish leaders to confront their own deeply-ingrained political chauvinism and callousness vis-a-vis the Palestinians, who were dispossessed when Israel was created in 1948.

Dr. Israel Shahak, the noted Israeli civil rights scholar and activist, has pointed out that "the chief reason why Jewish chauvinism...is so virulent in the USA is, simply, because almost no one dares to say in the USA that Jewish chauvinism exists."

My pilgrimage toward understanding the Middle East continued in 1980. After graduating from college in Philadelphia with a degree in journalism, I moved to Miami. For two years I worked with Latin American and Haitian groups concerned with human rights in their respective countries. There wasn't much time for the Middle East.

But in 1982, Israel invaded Lebanon, and much of Miami's Jewish community jumped to Israel's defense. I wrote a letter to the Miami Herald criticizing the invasion. Soon I began receiving harassing phone calls concerning my letter. I was angered because for two years I actively opposed US policies in Central America, but I was never harassed by Miami's large conservative Cuban community. However, after one letter to the Miami Herald criticizing the Israeli invasion, I was besieged with harassment the likes of which I had never before experienced.

Now I live in Washington, DC, where I write news and feature articles for the Washington-based American Arab Institute, and I occasionally contribute articles to the Dearborn, Michigan Arabic/English weekly Sada Alwatan. It took a long time for me to see the light on the Middle East, partly because I feared being called an "anti-Semite," but also because the mainstream US media wasn't telling the American people both sides of the Middle East conflict. If we do our homework, we can help an entire generation of young Americans better understand Middle East realities.

Mark C. Dressler is the public affairs director for the Washington, DC-based Arab American Institute. The views expressed are entirely his own.