I knew that she was called Ruth and that she was Jewish. I spoke to her only once very briefly, and somehow managed to work some extremely harsh criticism of Israel into the conversation. Similarities with the Nazis were mentioned. She looked at me briefly, but didn’t respond and the conversation was suddenly over.
That was about 25 years ago. I had strong opinions about Israel — so strong that they were almost bursting out of me. I could almost feel my skin reddening, my breath changing and a shot of adrenaline rushing into certain combative muscle groups when I thought of it. Why? I didn’t know much about Israel at all. No, that’s a lie. I didn’t know anything at all about Israel, beyond that there were Jews living there. I saw them as rich and white, and that they had stolen land from the Arabs or something.
Why so much anger? Well, my best friend used to get very angry about it, and I looked up to him. He seemed to know a great deal more about everything than I did. I was about 25, he was in his early 40s, was better educated, had traveled widely, and had a much stronger personality than I did. He seemed to know what he was talking about, and I generally agreed with his (left wing) politics. It seemed important, and I saw how angry it made him, so I identified with his anger. It made me angry too.
But why did I speak to Ruth in that manner? I wasn’t angry with her about it. Why did I do that? Read the rest of this entry ?