Farewell Lu Lingzi 吕令子

"How happy it is to have friends come from afar." This line from the opening passage of the Confucian Analects greets one everywhere that tourists congregate in China. Despite its having become a marketing cliche, it still expresses a profound truth. Bridging the distance between people is a basic human act. It is what makes families from isolated individuals, communities from disparate families, nations from disconnected communities, and what makes peace possible in a divided world. That joy is today mixed with sorrow, as we have lost a friend who came from afar. Lu Lingzi, a young graduate student from the city of Shenyang in the northeastern province of Liaoning, China, was killed in Monday's attack in Boston.

 Lu graduated from Shenyang Northeastern High School in 2008. She studied international economics at the Beijing Institute of Technology, and came to Boston University to study statistics. She was 23 when she was killed on Monday. Her friend Zhou Danling suffered injuries that required surgery but is now out of mortal danger.

I will never know Lu Lingzi, but our lives shared coincidental similarities. Like her I went to college in Beijing and graduate school in Boston. My parents worried for me when I went halfway around the world to study. I can only imagine the grief that her parents feel today, having this tragedy befall their daughter so far away.

Though it is small comfort, I hope that Lu's parents and friends know that we share their grief. Lu Lingzi was a member of our community. There are many countries where there are no "friends from afar," only strangers. America, despite notable failures, strives to be a place that remains open to distant friends and ready to receive their gifts. The attack upon Lu Lingzi was an attack upon the heart and spirit of America as painful and destructive as that upon Martin Richard, Krystie Campbell, and the other victims of Monday's blast.

Farewell, Lu Lingzi. I am sorry we did not protect you. I am sorry we can not return you safe and well to your family as the people of Beijing returned me home to mine. Thank you for making the journey to our shores. Thank you for coming the long distance and sharing your light with us. We will remember you, and honor your memory by working to make our nation and the world a better place.

Politics over Tactics

As President Obama plans a trip to the Mideast this week, it is an opportune moment to reflect on what foreign policy lessons the U.S. has learned in the years since 9/11. The outcomes of military and diplomatic efforts in Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Libya and elsewhere have demonstrated a single salient principle. During a new age of asymmetrical conflict, political factors far outweigh tactical concerns in the pursuit of foreign policy goals. If only the U.S. government could absorb and act upon this lesson our policy would be put on a newly rational footing. Unfortunately, in most arenas our leaders continue to confuse priorities in the discharging of affairs.

Every conflict has both tactical and political dimensions, and success is rarely achievable by exclusive attention to one or the other. If during World War II Allied leaders had not managed to forge and maintain a functional partnership, and if they had failed to sustain support for the war effort at home, advantages in ships, tanks and planes would not have sufficed to secure victory. By the same token, if operations like the Normandy invasion or the Manhattan Project had failed, strong alliances and robust domestic support for the war effort would have yielded few good results.

Each conflict is unique, however, and the relative importance of the political and tactical spheres is not constant for all cases. Thus despite dropping more explosives during the Vietnam conflict than were used by all sides during World War II, and inflicting vastly greater casualties on the North Vietnamese and Viet Cong than were sustained by U.S. forces, the United States failed to achieve its objective of preserving a partitioned Vietnam. In general, the more symmetrical a conflict (that is, the more evenly matched both sides are in armaments and numbers), the more important its tactical dimension. By contrast, the more asymmetrical a contest, the more urgent its political factors.

Their failure to understand this basic truth was the great error of the neoconservatives who took over the policy apparatus of the U.S. in the wake of 9/11.  For many years prior to the invasion of Afghanistan and Iraq, think tanks such as the Project for the New American Century had been publishing papers asserting that, with the end of the Cold War and the emergence of the U.S. as a solitary superpower, America could and should adopt a more aggressive military posture. Absent the Soviet deterrent, the U.S. was free to remake the map through the free and preemptive application of military force. The lessons of Vietnam no longer applied.

This was a complete misreading of both history and current conditions. During the Cold War the U.S. had been forced to fight exclusively asymmetrical conflicts because the prospect of "mutually assured destruction" made a direct conflict between the U.S. and the U.S.S.R. unthinkable. But the end of the Cold War likewise made a truly "symmetrical" contest between matched opponents impossible. With the dissolution of the Soviet Union, the U.S. was left with nothing but asymmetrical conflicts like Vietnam left to fight, a fact which the neocons never paused to consider as they laid plans for a "new American century."

The invasion of Iraq demonstrated just how relevant the lessons of Vietnam remained, and how much more urgent the political dimensions of foreign policy have become in an age of exclusively asymmetrical conflict. The tactical defeat of Saddam Hussein transpired with lightning speed, but the politics of the invasion, in all dimensions, were completely disastrous. Most strikingly, the political impact of the U.S. occupation within Iraq itself undermined the chances that the outcome of the invasion might serve U.S. interest in any sense. Though there were constituencies in Iraqi society that (for example) favored democratic governance and/or opposed Islamic extremism, they were weakened by their association with an unwelcome occupying power. By contrast, Al Qaeda, who had never enjoyed robust support in Iraq, gained a foothold as perceived opponents of American neocolonialism. After tens of thousands killed and wounded and trillions of dollars lost, it is not clear that anything has been achieved through the invasion that might not have been garnered eventually through diplomacy and sanctions.

Though a new regime has taken over in Washington, bringing a new set of habits and preferences, there is little sign that our leaders have developed a sound and systematic doctrine for the ongoing conduct of foreign policy. Despite successes in Pakistan and Libya, the Obama White House has remained defensive and reactive in the face of criticism at home and developments abroad. The wave of unrest and rapid change sweeping the Middle East in the wake of the Arab Spring obviously presents daunting and complex challenges for any government trying to formulate doctrine, but as the situation deteriorates in places like Syria the U.S. appears increasingly passive and ineffectual at a crucial moment in international affairs.

What is the cause for the current state of U.S. passivity? Just as during the Bush days, it stems from the failure to correctly prioritize the political and tactical dimensions of foreign policy. In assessing the potential impact of any policy, U.S. leaders (both the White House and its critics) continue to give undue weight to the tactical effects of any action, and to underestimate the importance of the political realm. Libya, for example, which should serve as a model for recent foreign policy success, has been discredited because of last year's tragic events in Benghazi. While it is true that the ouster of Qaddafi has given Islamists enhanced tactical strength and freedom of movement in Libyan society, the political impact of Qadaffi's fall continues to work to the detriment of groups like Al Qaeda. Though the death of a U.S. ambassador at the hand of extremists would never have been possible under the old regime, the throngs of Libyans who came out in the streets to mourn Chris Stevens, and the good will toward the U.S. they embody, would likewise not exist if the world had stood by and watched as Qaddafi destroyed the movement for a free Libya in the cradle.

The same myopic fixation upon tactical over political outcomes informs the world view of those who oppose U.S. support for the anti-Assad rebels in Syria. Because elements of the Syrian rebel army are Islamist, so goes this argument, we must refrain from supplying the rebels with arms for fear weapons will "fall into the wrong hands." But this assessment vastly overestimates the importance of weaponry in the long-term conflict between the U.S. and Islamist extremism. Weapons are plentiful and cheap, groups like Al Qaeda bent on causing havoc and terror will never find weapons in short supply. The 9/11 attacks themselves did not require more than a few airplane tickets and box cutters. By contrast, the political damage being done by U.S. passivity in Syria favors the cause of Al Qaeda far more than the acquisition of a few Soviet surplus assault rifles and grenade launchers ever could.  The Assad regime is about to be overthrown by a popular uprising, and unless the U.S. commits to clearly and materially supporting that process it will, just as in post-Saddam Iraq, once again find itself on the wrong side of the popular will in post-Assad Syria. Should that occur, the forces within Syrian society that might advance the causes of democracy, secular rule, and regional peace will be substantially weakened.

 We are in a new world with a new strategic dynamic, and it requires a new set of strategic priorities. If we continue to view every challenge through the simplistic lens of tactical concerns, we will continue to make mistakes of action as we did in Iraq and of inaction as we are currently making in Syria. Looking forward, an emphasis on the political over the tactical effects of policy should form the basic calibration of our compass for the conduct of foreign affairs.

Anti-Zionism is Anti-Semitism

Next week Brooklyn College will be hosting an event planned by the B.D.S. movement, an activist group dedicated to encouraging "boycott, divestment, and sanctions" against Israel. The gathering is being co-sponsored by the Department of Political Science, and will feature Judith Butler and Omar Barghouti as principal speakers. Critics of the event have questioned the propriety of the involvement of the Department of Political Science, charging that their co-sponsorship amounts to the endorsement of political views that will be offensive or intimidating to some students.

As a Brooklyn College faculty member I feel obliged to defend my colleagues' decision. The issue of Israeli-Palestinian relations is complex and highly emotionally charged, but that should not place it beyond the realm of discussion. Moreover, the basic logic of the criticism hurled against the Department does not hold up to scrutiny. One could use the same arguments to protest against an invitation extended to, for example, Mitt Romney (what about the Democrats in the student body? won't they be offended/intimidated?), but the upshot of such arguments (if they prevailed) would be to deprive students of a unique learning opportunity.

That being said, I am moved, in the spirit of open discussion and debate that animates the planned meeting and in the interest of facilitating dialogue, to contribute to the conversation initiated by the event and its co-sponsors. In particular, I am intrigued by arguments put forward by Judith Butler that I anticipate will form part of the substance of her talk next week. In a 2003 article for the London Review of Books entitled "No, It's not Anti-Semitic," Butler (in response to remarks made by Lawrence Summers, then president of Harvard University) critically engaged the question of whether anti-Israeli views, "in effect if not their intent," could be deemed "anti-Semitic," arguing that they could not.

Butler's analysis is thoughtful and sophisticated, and I will not engage all of her points here. In general I agree with her that to equate "Jews" and "Israel" is false, and that criticisms of Israeli policy (even very vehement critiques accusing Israel of "apartheid") can not be deemed, on their face, anti-Semitic. But I would like to offer her and her supporters a counter-proposition, one that informs my world view and, I suspect, that of many other Jews (whether they are self-consciously aware of its principles or not). As my title suggest, my basic assertion is that anti-Zionism is, in fact, anti-Semitism.  Unless she can empathetically and robustly engage this idea, she will have little hope of effective communication with the larger Brooklyn College community.

To begin this discussion, definitions are in order. As Butler notes in her article, Zionism over time has been a variable and internally contradictory movement. How then do we define Zionism and "anti-Zionism?" In simple terms, all historical Zionisms share the belief in the right of a Jewish state to exist. In the post-1948 era, this would translate into a belief in the right of Israel to persist as a Jewish state. Conversely, anti-Zionism would entail a denial of Israel's right to persist as a Jewish state. These definitions leave many open questions, as what makes Israel a "Jewish" state is the focus of constant and heated debate even within Israel itself. Lack of resolution on that score, however, does not deter us from understanding that an outright denial of the right for a Jewish state to exist has profoundly anti-Semitic consequences.

The arguments equating anti-Zionism with anti-Semitism do not hinge on the history of Zionism or of the Jews, but rather on that of anti-Semitism. If anti-Semitism had not evolved in very particular and pernicious ways, there is little chance that Zionism would have developed as it did, and its fruition in the existence of the Israeli state would have been virtually impossible. Traditional religious anti-Semitism was amenable to an array of escapes and remedies. On the one hand, conversion and assimilation could enable Jews to evade persecution, on the other hand, the advocacy of secularism and religious tolerance could create a social climate in which Jewish life was no longer threatened.

The advent of modern, secular anti-Semitism, however, created new and vastly more lethal conditions. "Jewishness" became an inescapable "racial" identity, one that could not be ameliorated by any degree of assimilation or religious apostasy. Atheists and Christian converts went to the gas chambers alongside the pious and the orthodox. In this new climate being Jewish is no longer entirely a matter of choice, subjecting millions to arbitrary attack and persecution whether they personally identify with the Jewish community or not.

This is the context in which the significance of Zionism and anti-Zionism must be contemplated. The question of who is a Jew and what it means to be a "Jewish" state is separable from that of whether the targets and victims of anti-Semitism can and do benefit from having a sovereign advocate in the community of nations. Wherever one falls on the former question, the answer to the latter question is emphatically "yes." Given the mechanics of international politics, if a Jewish state had existed at the time, it is unlikely that Nazi Germany could have perpetrated the Holocaust.

This principle is more than an abstract counterfactual- it bears out in the experience of the post-1948 world. Even as Israelis have struggled among themselves over the personal and collective meaning of Jewish identity, Israel has served as a defender against anti-Semitism, broadly defined, all over the world. Jews in Yemen, Ethiopia, the Soviet Union, and throughout the globe have benefited from the military and diplomatic efforts of the Israeli state. Since its inception, Israel has been the single greatest impediment to institutionalized anti-Semitism in the international arena. The end of the Jewish state would, over time, remove concrete protections from Jewish communities throughout the world, and would create a more favorable climate for the growth and spread of anti-Semitism than has existed since before World War II. For example, those alarmed by the recent appearance of neo-Fascist groups in places like Greece and Russia might pause to imagine what greater scope those groups would have to grow in the near- and long-term in a world in which Israel did not exist.

This is the larger framework within which I and many other Jews approach any and all questions pertaining to Israel and Palestine, which does not preclude there being deep divisions over policy. I, for example, stand with the Palestinian people in demanding their right to statehood, and decry the injustice of the Israeli occupation, positions that Butler and the B.D.S. movement embrace and that many of my Jewish students and colleagues at Brooklyn College would reject. Where I and these latter individuals agree, however, is in our insistence that Israel must continue to exist, both for its own sake and for the protection of Jews everywhere. Any group seeking to engage a Jewish community largely animated and informed by this basic perspective on behalf of Palestinians would be well advised to clarify its position on how the crisis and occupation should or can be resolved. The only type of arguments that will achieve traction in the discourse I exemplify are ones that at least acknowledge the possibility of a two-state solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Anyone who advocates the necessary dissolution of the Israeli state, or is perceived to be evasively concealing such an agenda, will meet at Brooklyn College with poor prospects for a meaningful conversation that genuinely engages the larger part of the community.