5331 private links
Somewhere along the way, I, of course, encountered the famous Martin Niemöller quote:
First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a socialist.
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a trade unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.
And, of course, I understood its message — it's inescapable. Yet, on some level, I felt exempt from it. Certainly, I would never be the person who didn't speak out. (It's funny — the little lies we tell ourselves, isn't it?) The sad truth is that there have indeed been times in my life when I've held my tongue and remained silent when I shouldn't have — most often simply to avoid conflict rather than in the dire context contemplated by Niemöller, but deserving of frank appraisal, nonetheless.
Particularly in recent years, I've learned that because my views differ from many of my friends and family members, it's best not to voice them in certain settings. Such efforts are too fraught with peril. I don't want to lose or even inadvertently alienate people I care about. I know many don't subscribe to that approach, but for me, preserving relationship is paramount to opining — in most instances. //
Without betraying any confidences, I can say that a recurring sentiment I've seen expressed by Jewish friends and family over the past week is disheartened disappointment in the silence from some quarters — people they consider friends and allies, people who belong to groups or espouse beliefs that they've stood with and defended in the past. In many cases, it's left them feeling abandoned; in some, it's left them wondering if it's a silent expression of ambivalence or — though it's hard to fathom — tacit approval.
I'm not of the "Silence is violence" camp. But I do agree that silence can speak volumes. Indeed, when I encountered this article on Tuesday, it struck a jarring chord: Why Are All of You Silent? The entire piece is a worthwhile read, but I'll share a brief excerpt:
Some of these people have something to say about every political cause. They insist that “silence is violence” and that, in the oft-quoted words of Desmond Tutu, “If you are neutral in situations of injustice you have chosen the side of the oppressor.” But apparently those maxims don’t apply when Jews are being murdered.
If anything, it speaks to the sheer inhumanity of Hamas’ attack that there are so many people staying quiet—normally when Israel appears in the headlines, every woman who took “Intro to Human Rights” in sophomore year posts at least three infographics about Palestinian borders on her story. It’s a shame it only took babies being beheaded and women being violently assaulted for people to stop treating a tragic conflict in a deeply complicated place they’ve never visited as a convenient opportunity to broadcast their political virtues.
...
War crimes and murdered toddlers are not a “complex political situation” with “arguments on both sides.” You can support Palestinian statehood—in fact, you can have any opinion you want about the regional politics of the Middle East—and still believe that jihadist terrorists abducting 85-year-old Holocaust survivors should be condemned. Conflating those two things only gives credence to the idea that violence against Jews is political; violence against anyone else is unquestionably evil. Insisting on that distinction, in the public arena where narratives are created, is the only way to break the cycle of demonization and intimidation-into-silence.
