'
Bloody Jews,' he said. '
Bloody Jews, bugger the Jews, I've no sympathy for them.'
I gazed at him, aghast. Where had this suddenly come from?
The encounter I'm here describing took place very recently, in the
course of a large academic dinner at a University in another city, not
my own one. It was a pleasant occasion, and the people at my table were
innocuously and comfortably talking about sociological issues connected
with the economic crisis, all completely harmless and (relatively)
uncontentious. And then I heard the academic on my right hand side say
to the person opposite him, '
Bloody Jews.'
When he saw my appalled stare, he said impatiently, 'Oh well, I'm sorry, but really...!'
'I'm glad you're sorry,' I replied politely, collecting myself
together for a fight. But then he asked, 'Are you Jewish?' When I
nodded, this academic - whom I'd met for the first time that day - put
his arm around me and said, 'I'm sorry, but really Israel is
terrible, the
massacres, Plan
Dalet, the ethnic
cleansing, they're like the Nazis, they're the
same as the Nazis...'
The encircling arm was offensive enough in its own right, but the
Nazi reference was conclusive - it's so manifestly false, and when
addressed to a Jew, it's designed to wound; no one makes that
equivalence without malicious prejudice. And this, after all, was an
academic talking, a professor, someone trained to resist casual
stereotypes and easy equivalences. I wish I could say that I delivered
on the spot a furious and crushing analysis of his various
misdemeanours. However, because of the special circumstances
surrounding this particular academic occasion, if I'd done that it
would have caused distress to other people who were present, towards
whom I felt nothing but good will, and who have shown me nothing but
warmth and kindness. I thought - perhaps wrongly - that I was under an
obligation to be restrained. (Somehow, there always seem to be reasons
for not telling anti-Semites just what they are.) So all I did was say
loudly, 'I don't have to put up with this
crap,' and took myself off to join another table.
What did he expect, I wonder? Breathless deference, perhaps: 'Oh
yes, I do agree, Israel is terrible; it doesn't speak in my name, no,
no, not in the least, not at all; it's an imperialist colonialist
fascistic genocidal apartheid settler state, how right you are to be
disgusted at it.' Whatever he expected, I don't think it can have been
such opposition as I offered him, tame though this was, since others
told me that he shortly became full of remorse, and went around
apologising alcoholically to those who were present at our interchange.
They, of course, were paralysed with a very English embarrassment at
the spectacle of someone dropping a social clanger. I was later
informed that one (Muslim) academic told the professor that he should
apologise to me, a suggestion which he rejected, saying that he
never apologised to 'one of them'. Apart from that, the matter was allowed to drop.
I don't think this would have happened 10 years ago. There certainly
was anti-Semitism (of a relatively mild kind) around the place, among
academics as elsewhere, but they used to know that there was something
wrong with it, and hence restrained themselves, at least in public. I
haven't met anything quite as nakedly direct as this in the
universities before now, not even in the UCU during the boycott
debates: venomous though those debates were, the fig-leaf of
anti-Zionism was usually kept more or less in place. Mark Gardner's
wry and melancholy comments
on the constant drip of criticism of Israel and Jews, the rising waters
of this toxic hatred, seem especially resonant to me today.
As I look over what I've written about this encounter, it sounds
oddly unreal, even contrived - it reads like an episode in a
badly-written novel. But it did happen, a few days ago, here in the UK,
exactly as I've described it. (As so often, life seems to imitate
second-rate art). The incident wasn't in itself very important - the
professor had liquor taken, and perhaps was having a Mel Gibson moment,
so to speak. But he wasn't called out on it; no one - not even me -
decided that the public expression of hatred towards Jews had to be
publicly combated, even at the cost of some social discord. I'm very
unsure that my restrained response was the right one, even in the
special circumstances which obtained at the time.
People like Ken Livingstone
keep telling us
that criticism of Israel isn't anti-Semitic, and that those who play
the anti-Semitism card (as they see it) are just trying to distract
attention from Israel's crimes. The Guardian reviewer Nicholas Lezard
seems to think
something like this too; as does
Caroline Lucas, the leader of the Green party; the UCU leadership has also peddled this line on
more than one occasion. Attacks on Israel are nothing to do with anti-Semitism, they say; it's just honest political critique.
'Israel... massacres... Nazis... bloody Jews.
Bloody Jews.' (Eve Garrard)