Diana Wichtel on the rise in anti-Semitism and to what extent it is racist

'You can look for fragile signs of hope in this world.' - Diana Wichtel. Photo / Getty Images

So, you're not really Jewish, said a literary man, who came up to chat after a book event.
As is so often the case when Jewishness comes up, I was at a loss for words. It's complicated. My father was a Polish Jew. My mother was a Kiwi Catholic, as gentile as it gets. Orthodox Judaism says I don't qualify. Reform Judaism says I do. But I'm not religious. Neither was my father. And the Nazis didn't ask my family about their religious practice before murdering them. Being Jewish is my connection to them. I'll take it, if that's okay with the non-Jewish literary guy. I did wonder if he would have mansplained my ethnic status to me had I been from any other minority group.

There's also what isn't said. Some people I've known for ages go silent if I mention unease at the rise in anti-Semitism from, seemingly, all sides. When I was writing my memoir about my family history, it would have seemed far-fetched that five years later people eating sushi in Los Angeles would be asked if they were Jewish, then attacked. Or that the occupants of a convoy of cars would be shouting "F*** the Jews, rape their daughters!" in London streets.

Diana Wichtel. Photo / New Zealand Herald

In other news, the BBC is investigating an employee who tweeted anti-Semitic posts, including, "#HitlerWasRight" in 2014. There was a CNN contributor who tweeted, "The world today needs another Hitler." Silence over these things from the end of the political spectrum I gravitate to and could count on to call out racism is painful.

But criticism of Israel isn't anti-Semitism, people say. No argument here. The trick is noticing when it is. See the case of the Google diversity head's now-deleted blog about Israel-Palestine. He wrote, "If I were a Jew I would be concerned about my insatiable appetite for war and killing in defence of myself … I would be afraid of my increasing insensitivity to the suffering [of] others." Not criticism of Israel but of Jews. It's not that hard.

Increasingly, it seems anti-Semitism can't be challenged simply as racism. David Baddiel, author of the book Jews Don't Count, writes in The Times, "… before you're allowed to proffer any kind of public opinion about anti-Semitism, you have to first qualify it by putting your cards on the table about Israel-Palestine — an idea that is, not to put too fine a point on it, racist."

The actions of Israel are being cited as responsible for the scary uptick in anti-Semitism. Anti-Semites are responsible for anti-Semitism. There will always be excuses. Jews are communists, capitalists, too white, not white enough … Old tropes don't go away — see placards at some anti-Israel protests featuring Jews as child-murdering Christ killers.
I've almost given up trying to discuss these things because of the binary being imposed upon the discussion. A couple of years ago I interviewed writer Zadie Smith, of English and Jamaican heritage. She talked about the limitations of concepts like "cultural appropriation" and "identity politics".

Not her phrases, she said. "The job of a thinker is to think. Once you've taken the terms of the argument, you've already given too much."

You don't need to accept the terms of the argument: a liberating thought. You can be for the suffering citizens, not the extremists on both sides who seem bent on endless war. You can be for the existence of Israel, along with other countries created amid the geopolitical upheavals of the 20th century, and for Palestinian rights. You can be with those who work across cultures — my partner has cousins doing this in Israel — for change, justice, peace.

You can look for fragile signs of hope in this world. In Israel an eight-party coalition has been formed, including a secular centrist party, a hard-right party and an Arab party. It's not yet approved. Goodness knows if it will survive. Whatever happens it's already a historic moment. You don't need to accept the terms of the argument.

Things can change.