4 EXPLANATIONS FOR ANTISEMITISM’S TENACITY

IF PEOPLE CARE ABOUT THE POTENTIAL FOR A REPETITION OF GENOCIDE, WHY DON’T THEY ACT LIKE IT?

We’ll see about that.

A survey I shared in my last post indicated that majorities of people in the United States and some European countries believe that “something like the Holocaust could happen again today” — and I explained why I thought that was (weirdly) good news.

It contradicts my pessimistic assumption that people do not care.

A few readers questioned my conclusion. I may have leapt to an overly optimistic assumption.

My supposition was that the widespread recognition that a genocide is possible demonstrates that people do care, that they see that as a bad thing and would prefer a world where “something like the Holocaust” were not possible.

I ended my post — cliffhanger! — with the question: “Why does it seem so few people are willing to act in ways that reflect this concern?”

One wise reader challenged my logical leap, pointing out that “Care is demonstrated through action.”

My assumption was that, if people acknowledge a potential genocide, it must follow that they care to prevent it. But then I asked why more people are not standing up more forcefully against antisemitism. My reader implied I may be overly optimistic. If people truly cared, they would act. And perhaps so. Certainly, I didn’t adequately make the case why I thought the message was positive. So here I begin to explain …

Assuming that a genocide could take place does not necessarily correspond with the idea that it should be prevented.

That was proven after October 7, when plenty of people worldwide celebrated what was part of a decades-long attempted genocide.

It has been proven again and again since 1945 by people who subscribe, variously, to the contradictory spectrum from Holocaust denial to Holocaust diminishment to Holocaust support, a position callously summarized as “The Holocaust didn’t happen and they should have killed more.”

Leaving aside the sociopaths who endorse (or diminish or deny) genocide, let’s focus on the positive. How do we translate the overwhelming (except in Romania, apparently) belief in the potential for genocide into positive actions to prevent such a catastrophe?

We need to identify the barriers between belief and actions.

Why are people who believe a genocide is possible not doing more to prevent one?

Well, in its simplest comparison, why do people who recognize the dangers of climate change still drive cars?

This example may seem specious. (Very specious, actually.) But the answer to the question is obvious. Cars are convenient, part of our daily lives, they are a habit that is hard to break, and they play a role in our existence that is so pervasive it is almost invisible.

Oh wait. Maybe it’s not so specious after all.

Antisemitism is all those things, too.

We may oppose the idea of a genocide, but …

Let’s consider these factors individually.

Antisemitism is convenient. In an increasingly complex world where we do not even agree on definitions of words like “genocide” and where misinformation and disinformation have led us not only to different opinions but to different “facts,” antisemitism provides simple, convenient answers. Antisemitism has always been the easy answer to difficult questions. Why is a plaque killing my village? Who overthrew the Romanovs? What forces could have caused a “Great War” that so undermined our very concept of humanity? How could a stock market crash in New York have stolen food my table in Oklahoma?

Difficult question. One easy answer.

Antisemitism is part of our daily lives. This may seem like a stretch. Barring the tiki torch-carrying extremists and the anti-Israel cranks blocking intersections, most of us do not live our lives obsessed with Jews and ideas of Jewish control, power and assorted mythologies. But that, weirdly, is the point. It is odd that people who subscribe to the idea of the role of white supremacy in our society — the idea that even people who are not themselves overtly racist benefit from the advantages of the racist system — are so quick to diminish the role antisemitism plays in our society and ourselves. In his stunning book Anti-Judaism: The Western Tradition, David Nirenberg argues (I summarize his brilliance crudely) that ideas about Jews are not a bug of Western civilization but a feature; that our entire civilization is founded on negative perceptions of Jews. (I’ll devote a post to this astounding book one of these days.) Antisemitism comes to us through our civilizational DNA. Somewhat in the way racism, misogyny, homophobia and other assumptions are literally so pervasive we do not even see them until they burst into extremism or violence. Antisemitism is everywhere — we just don’t see it. (I’m guessing some readers may take exception to this statement. I’ll never run out of topics.)

Antisemitism is a habit that’s hard to break. For the reasons above, antisemitism is a hard tradition to quit. Humans seem to need a scapegoat. Almost every religion shares this characteristic — and in Christianity, the religion at least nominally shared by me and most of my Canadian neighbors, that scapegoating is particularly on the nose. Every Sunday morning, just down the street from your house, your neighbors unburden their sins on the representation of a dead Jew. That’s a hard habit to break. Even, or especially, for those who convince themselves they have freed themselves from such folkloric booga-booga, which brings me to …

Antisemitism plays a role in our existence that is so pervasive it is almost invisible. When Christians perform the Eucharist, at least they are doing what they do consciously. Where I think a socio-psychological rupture occurs is in self-declared atheists and non-deists who think they can verbally declare their freedom from such ancient rites and be done with it. These are the people, I firmly believe, who most pervertedly exhibit scapegoating of Jews. They don’t go to church anymore. Instead, they attend rallies, sign petitions and vote for candidates who blame Jews — particularly the Jewish state — for our own sins (economic inequality, injustice of every sort, racism, settler-colonialism, yada yada yada) and then seek the crucifixion of the Jewish state (and, in extreme cases, Jews). Sounds weird, right? Think about it a moment and the obsessive, disproportionate obsession with Israel (and Jews) makes a lot more sense.

So my point is this: people may want to stand against a potential genocide but it’s complicated, plus … we’re busy.

I know how despicable that sounds. But I think it is a fair assessment of human nature — perhaps never more so than in the short-attention-span, information-deluged civilization we now inhabit.

Even if we accept the explanations I have offered, this still does not address the problem, does it?

We need tangible steps to confront the inaction. Sorry to string you along, but (as I said above, sadly, I’ll never run out of topics) I’ll address these in my next post.