Patriotism and its Discontents

A lengthy e-mail from an avid Crimson reader disrupted an otherwise pleasant Wednesday morning: “Tell you what, Hasan,” it began, “make it so that my relatives and friends in Israel can go about their daily affairs without getting blown to bits by your brethren and I’ll support every protest you conduct to get rid of checkpoints and punish Israeli soldiers who abuse Palestinians.”

I assumed that the e-mailer referred to my column, but I was perplexed. His argument was simple enough—one that I’ve heard many times: the mass punishment of the entire Palestinian people is just retribution for the horrific acts of a few Palestinian suicide bombers. But what struck me was not the argument but the phrase—“blown to bits by your brethren.” When did I claim brotherhood with religious fanatics who attack innocent civilians? I thought I had spoken out in favor of peace, reconciliation and justice.

I did, however, criticize the Israeli government, and that was enough to make me a brother of suicide bombers. Never mind that I had praised Israeli human rights groups for their work in Israel and America. Never mind that I limited my criticism to Ariel Sharon and his apartheid policies and not to the Israeli state as a whole. The fact that I would dare criticize Sharon (a man whom many Israelis also consider a war criminal) means that I must be anti-Israel. As Professor Ruth R. Wisse stated in her eloquent, yet twisted and xenophobic Crimson op-ed, Israel is the state of the Jews, so anyone who criticizes Israel must be against Jews.

I wondered if being Muslim made me a ripe target for these baseless accusations. After all, the suicide bombers have all been Muslim. And sadly, anti-Semitism—the most despicable European export—is on the rise in Muslim countries.

But it has not been any easier on Jews—neither in Israel nor in America—who criticize Israel. In the eyes of many pro-Israel right-wingers, the mere suggestion that there are Jews out there who oppose Israeli policies is enough to evoke hysteria. One e-mailer kindly informed me that the only Jews who criticize the Israeli government are “doltish VES majors.”

These “doltish” souls beg to differ. Sam Sternin ’01, who was one of a handful of Jewish members of the Society of Arab Students (SAS) last year, argues that there is “no inconsistency in supporting the state of Israel while at the same time condemning the abuse, economic strangulation, and willful killing of innocent Palestinians.” But Sternin admits that those who speak up against Israel’s policies are frequently labeled “bad Jews” by their peers.

For Princeton Professor of International Law Richard Falk, it got significantly worse. Last June, Falk appeared on a BBC episode of “Panorama” that explored the role of Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon in the 1982 Sabra and Chatila massacre. Falk, who is Jewish and who was a part of the international commission that investigated Sharon’s involvement in the massacre, stated that he had “no doubt whatsoever” that Sharon is indictable as a war criminal. Over the course of the next few weeks, the phone calls and hate mail became so threatening that Falk sought police protection.

The irrational fear exhibited by the people who harassed Falk is not exceptional. It happens in every country, particularly in times of crisis or war. When a country goes to war, its people develop a warped sense of patriotism. The government, the state, and the people become conflated into a single entity. Thus, to criticize the government is tantamount to disparaging the state and the people. In America, we are as guilty of this as anyone. When President Bush declared the War on Terror, too few of us questioned the logic and methods behind our government’s plan. We thought that being patriotic meant supporting the government unconditionally. So nobody said anything when our pilots accidentally bombed and killed more than 3,000 innocent Afghan civilians. And nobody said anything when we aligned ourselves with war criminals like General Rashid Dostum—a ruthless warlord with a penchant for tying his prisoners to tank treads and making minced meat out of them. Criticizing our government at this time would have meant being unpatriotic, un-American. Bearing this in mind, it is easy to understand why the pro-Israel right is so sensitive about criticism leveled at its government.

Understandable—but nonetheless misguided. This unconditional devotion to the government is anathema to democracy. Blind supporters think they are being patriotic, but in fact, they weaken the institutions they seek to protect. If we don’t speak up against the ills of our own governments, we relinquish the safeguards of democracy. And if the government then leads the nation astray, we become complicit in its crimes.

The most frightening example is 1930s Germany. A majority of Germans may not have been Nazis, but the majority followed blindly (or fearfully) when the Nazis embarked on their campaign of extermination. In 1993, too few moderate Hutus in Rwanda spoke up against the Hutu extremists. Granted, these are the most extreme cases—both of which resulted in genocides—and it is unlikely that either Israel or America will ever commit crimes on this level of inhumanity. But the point remains: when the people follow the government blindly and unquestioningly, disaster is sure to follow. Democracy needs a healthy opposition to protect it from itself.

People who tell you that you can’t criticize their country without being their enemy suffer from delusional paranoia. People who tell you that you can’t criticize your own country and be patriotic at the same time are0 living in an Orwellian nightmare. A good dose of constructive criticism never hurt anybody. In fact, it usually helps.

Nader R. Hasan ’02 is a government concentrator in Lowell House. His column appears on alternate Wednesdays.