Every year, when I return to England from visiting Israel, my connection with the country feels renewed. For me, Israel isn't just the 'home of the Jews'; it is the place where I took my first steps, said my first words, made my first memories and friends. So when people attack Israel, I can't help but take it personally. Starting at university exactly a year ago, I was shocked at just how strong people's opinions on Israel were, considering how little they actually knew; people who were supposed to be educated and obviously intelligent were making wrong, frightening and dangerous assumptions about my homeland.
Growing up in a Jewish community and going to a Jewish school up until I was 18, I wasn't as well equipped to handle this as I thought I was. So, how do Jewish university students handle dangerous comments against Israel? I had to learn the difference between criticism of Israel, the government, and the policies and dangerous comments: free speech is only a human right as long as what you are saying doesn't endanger another human being. 'I don't agree with Israel's policies' is acceptable; “all Israelis should burn in hell” is not. My mother is Israeli, I am Israeli, half of my family is Israeli. When somebody questions Israel’s right to exist, for me, it is a personal problem; are you telling me that my grandfather, my uncles, my mother are terrorists and deserve to die?
Educating myself was also key. I had to arm myself with facts and statistics, backed with impartial evidence, to fight against the slander and misinformation so ingrained in people's minds, which meant acknowledging and understanding the other side of the argument.
Changing how someone thinks, convincing them that their trusted sources of information are biased, is no mean feat, and is impossible when your passion translates into crazy fanatic. I had to train myself to remain calm, logical and rational. It is a test in patience like no other. Probably the most frustrating part is when people aren’t willing to listen. As emotionally invested as I am in Israel’s cause, I am open to criticism and alternative viewpoints; when somebody else isn’t, every fibre of my being screams “that’s so unfair!” – I owe it to myself not to engage in these futile conversations. Not every conversation will result in a victory.
Is it even safe to advocate so loudly for the Israeli cause? At a university where Jews are very much in the minority - I know a handful at most - do I always feel comfortable voicing my often unpopular opinion? Perhaps not; it would certainly be much easier to keep quiet most of the time. After all, I'm there to be a student, and I really am just like anyone else. I go out on Friday nights, wake up hungover on Saturday to a bacon sandwich and spend the majority of Jewish holidays writing essays. Why purposely single myself out?
Because if I don't, then the voice of many will drown me. Whenever these thoughts cross my mind, I am reminded of George Santayana's saying: “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it”. Where did consoling ourselves with, “they're just nasty words”, and “oh they're just spitting at us in the street, but they're not hurting us” (an actual event that happened to my sister), get us 70 years ago? We must learn from our mistakes, otherwise how can we expect a different outcome?
Ellie Hyman is a second year student at Durham University studying English literature. She grew up in Manchester and is half Israeli.
