Walking a Tightrope on the Middle East Conflict as an American Jew

I always have a hard time explaining my position on the conflict between Israel and Palestine, even to myself. I usually tell people that I handle the situation by staying away from it, mostly by avoiding involvement in protests or polemical presentations. I do not have any desire to take up an act in the UC Berkeley circus show, thank you. 

When I talk to my Jewish friends about their feelings I have to think before I speak, and often I find myself justifying my position. Because even within the Jewish community itself, sentiment around the conflict and the ensuing effects inhabits a wide spectrum, especially at UC Berkeley. 

This is what people engaged in debate around the conflict don’t understand—American Jews do not fall neatly into one category, but since October 7th, we are treated as if we do. And this is what contributes to our “sadness, anger, exhaustion, and fear,” with 74% of American Jews polled feeling three out of the four emotions in February 2024. It is not just antisemitism, but the distress and confusion caused by not knowing how we fit into the conflict. 

As a kid, I was put in Sunday school where I studied stories from the Torah and learned about my religion. I had a bat mitzvah and went to services for the High Holidays, helped my mom prepare Passover seders and recited the prayers before lighting Hanukkah candles. At 20 years old, I identify my Jewishness more in my community than in dedication to religious laws, although I still celebrate some holidays. It allows me to relate to others, and is a conveyor for friendship and connection. Especially in college, being Jewish has allowed me to find a great group of friends who understand me. Despite not being especially religious, this element of my culture is the most important part of my identity. My Jewishness is what makes me different from just being an American, what I can call on whenever I’m asked what my background is. But recently, my self-identity as an American Jew has led me to question how I connect to the only Jewish state in the world in a time when Israel’s actions are being criticized by many Americans, especially my fellow Berkeley students. 

I could ruminate about Israel’s right to exist and the Palestinian people’s right to the same land, but that is not what concerns me, nor do I think it is what is the main concern of many American Jews. In fact, after talking to Jewish friends, family, and other members of the community, I think most Jews are appalled by the Israeli government’s actions and the suffering in Gaza. The fact that Hamas committed horrendous war crimes on October 7th does not legitimate Israel’s right-wing government doing the same. I would hope this normally democratic state would have higher morals than the violent extremist group they are trying to destroy. Otherwise, their aims in the war become entirely hypocritical, especially since there has been such little movement in ousting Hamas and returning the hostages, not to mention a ceasefire deal. 

But the problem is that our peers do not realize the distinction between the Jewish state and the actions of its government, nor do they consider what that state is up against. This is what makes me feel uncomfortable, because I am dragged into a conflict that paints the Jewish people, and not the greed and violence of two tyrannical governments, as evil. 

I worry that people do not see the risk that the so-called “progressive” ideology that has taken over campuses like UC Berkeley presents, which is that more and more people are in favor of extinguishing the only homeland for Jews. There seems to be little care for the fact that Hamas, the Islamist militant group that has controlled the Gaza Strip since 2007 and which has been widely designated a terrorist group, only has the goal of eliminating Israel, and is even willing to use its civilians as human shields in order to do so. Nor does there seem to be much consideration for the murders Hamas committed on October 7th or the hostages it still holds. It is equally frustrating that Israel’s government is playing right into Hamas’ hands by murdering defenseless Palestinian civilians, and in claiming these lives, alienating itself in the gaze of the West. Because both the leaders of Israel and of Gaza are the perpetrators of such actions, to me the demands by students of the Western Left regarding Israel’s complete eradication and their unequivocal condemnation do not seem fair, and do not appear to be fully understood by the students proclaiming them.

It leaves me to question whether my liberalism is no longer what others see as liberalism. As journalist Haviv Rettig Gur notes in the Free Press’ Honestly podcast with Bari Weiss, American Jews have been exemplary in embracing the American liberal promise. But in the past decade, we have witnessed an “ideological takeover of that liberal left by illiberal forces, forces that have now taken the Jews out of the ledger of minority fighting for everybody’s rights, and stuck them in the… side that has to be defeated.” 

I wouldn’t call today’s Left illiberal, but the conflict between Israel and Gaza has left me struggling to categorize myself under the umbrella term of “progressive.” Jewish adults in the U.S. identify as 68% Democratic, and more liberal than conservative, but it is becoming harder to reconcile with Democrats who call for the eradication of Israel or do not consider other opinions when talking about the conflict. 

It is troubling, to say the least, to see students arguing that Hamas’ actions on October 7th were justified, chanting “globalize the intifada,” which suggests violence. They are proclaiming things like “from the river to the sea, Palestine will be free,” which alludes to the elimination of Israel’s existence entirely, and calling Israel things like a “settler-colonial state,” which erases the history of the Jewish people - many refugees - on the land. The most recent incident, an antisemetic caricature of Erwin Chemerinsky, dean of the Berkeley law school, makes me very worried and skeptical of the direction sentiments that are supposed to support “Palestine liberation” are going in. There seems to be no room for understanding, only immediate disdain of an “enemy.” And the classification of who the enemy is has grown much too simple. 

If you wear a star of David or a keffiyah, you are an immediate target for irascible stares and muttered insults. Even without speaking, when I see someone carrying a keffiyah, it makes me feel like that person and I are probably incompatible. I know that it’s very unlikely that anyone would treat others so, but I worry that if I were to tell them I am a Jew, they might disdain me. And it’s not just with openly pro-Palestinian people, I now get slightly nervous about anyone’s reaction if I were to tell them I go to Hillel. I feel that despite my condemnation of Israel’s killing and starving of innocent civilians, my being a Jew puts me on the wrong side of the conflict, as if it’s that easy to separate opinions, a simple case of you’re wrong and I’m right.

Outside viewers don’t recognize the hundreds of years of conflict between these same peoples, the extremely complicated history of tension that is unlikely to end even with a ceasefire. It is hard for me to defend Israel. But at the same time, the one-sidedness of the people around me makes me fear that being Jewish automatically associates me with this dangerous, angry narrative about the actions of Israel. My Jewishness puts me in troubled waters, leaving me to be swept up in this wave of hatred across college campuses, one that rises to vicious chants and alarming sentiments, and crashes down to a sea of people without deeper knowledge, only reinforcing each others’ contempt, leading the wave to rise again. 

The restive atmosphere at UC Berkeley is exhausting. Sather Gate is constantly blocked by protesters and loud audio of planes and bombs in Gaza plays endlessly on loop, an area ripe for angry confrontations and the immediate whipping out of phones at any sign of disagreement. The Anti-Defamation League, which fights antisemitism and hate speech, recently gave UC Berkeley a D in its Campus Antisemitism Report Card, meaning the university has a “deficient approach.” The narrative around UC Berkeley is that the conflict has led to the campus becoming a breeding ground of anger and Jewish hate. 

Lauren Haines writes that “Jewish communal leaders, politicians and media outlets have repeatedly espoused this misguided, exaggerated conception of college campuses.” We are not just the headlines of “feeling less safe” and experiencing “a surge in fears,” nor do I think it’s fair to dub my home state of California “the homeland of progressive anti-Semitism.” But with these stories raining down on Jewish students’ heads, they begin to seep in, preventing them from creating their own story of being Jewish students and increasing the anxiety that already comes with being at college. 

This narrative restricts Jews’ own image of themselves, as a vibrant community where many members don’t experience antisemitism or are focused on celebrating their Jewishness rather than ruminating about the conflict. Jewish students are not one-dimensional, and more importantly, the campus atmosphere impacts other students just as much, if not more. Rabbi Joshua Ladon writes that, “In [Jews’] sense of victimhood, we become closed off to the pain of our perpetrators even though vulnerability is not a zero-sum game.” 

  As I have felt at times, my being a Jewish student at UC Berkeley instantly means I’m at risk. But this assumption obscures the reality that not all American Jews see themselves as victims, and moreso, that we don’t even want to be involved in such a volatile atmosphere. This is not to say that increasing antisemitism isn’t a legitimate problem, but by constantly focusing on it, it begins to define Jewish students’ identity and leave them caught in a state of limbo. Many, such as myself, support the Palestinian cause—, but by seeing so many anti-Zionist tirades and bitter posters and social media posts, especially by people I considered friends, I feel lost in where I can find acceptance and support. 

In Theo Baker’s article for The Atlantic, the Stanford sophomore articulates an interesting point: “Today’s students grew up in the Trump era, in which violent rhetoric has become a normal part of political discourse and activism is as easy as reposting an infographic.” Baker is nodding towards a phenomenon that will be looked at for years to come, which is that young people today are all too familiar with deep-seated hate for “the other side,” which entails belligerent rebukes and faceless attacks online purely because of someone’s political affiliation or uninformed ideas. 

The lack of action from the chancellor and other school officials because they are scared to anger anyone under the guise of “free speech” leaves students to fend for themselves and constantly feel under threat. Students should be able to express their opinions, but no one should feel unsafe or uncomfortable on campus. Sure, the ASUC resolutions protecting Palestinian, Israeli, and Jewish students, and proposed California state bill 1287 aimed at preventing hate speech, are steps in the right direction. As is the U.S. Board of Education’s investigation of discrimination at UC Berkeley. But they provide these institutions with an easy excuse to shrug off a larger problem—many students are not willing to engage in discourse. 

At the very least, UC Berkeley needs to promote conversation. All we ever hear in the news is about the growing anti-Semitism in the US and on college campuses. We hear about how the conflict is becoming an issue in the elections, siphoning important votes in an election where the future of democracy is at stake. We hear about violence and slurs and swastikas. But, as UC Regent and alumni John Pérez commented in an interview with POLITICO, what we see today is not the creation of space for debate and common ground like what was fostered in the Free Speech Movement that originated on this campus. What we see now is the shutting down of debate. We are never told the truth of the matter—that this is a fight between two despotic governments trying to wipe out the other, while their people are either indoctrinated or ignored. And we never hear about discussion. Without civil discussion of opinions and views, the vacuous rhetoric of animosity and revulsion will only grow stronger. 

Where better to start the conversation than at the world’s #1 public university, housing some of the world’s most promising young leaders? We are at the perfect age to learn how to engage in meaningful conversation and debate without immediately shutting out those you don’t agree with. If the university were to organize speaker panels or facilitate discussion, maybe students like me who feel like they are walking a tightrope in the debate around the war can feel validated and secure. 

I recently heard a Jewish student talking about how her friend got admitted to UC Berkeley, but her parents won’t let her attend because they are worried about antisemitism on campus. A story of antisemitism that is so strong that it prevents people from taking opportunities that could drastically improve their lives is not a story we should be telling. Especially because many Jewish students have experiences at Berkeley that are much more varied and exciting than this narrative portrays. By running away from opinions that differ from one’s own, one is bound to be stuck in a small, fearful worldview where the “other side” is always in control. I think the narrative of college campuses today could be even more lively if students were put in conversation with each other and given safe spaces to express themselves. The circus show could even turn into a piece of art.