Don’t put aside your differences, but do strive towards reconciliation
Sven Niekel, EUJS
Just about one month ago, a shocking and provocative incident occurred in Flemish news media. In a column of HUMO, an author sought to draw the reality of the Israel-Palestine conflict closer by painting a vivid image of the horrific experience that Gazan citizens experience. What despair it must evoke to see loved ones die as a result of Israeli bombardments. Though this is a relatable sentiment, it was the emotive answer to the thought “could one not feel sympathetic to feeling…?” that sparked international controversy: could one not feel sympathetic to feeling like ramming a knife through the throat of every Jewish person?”
Photo courtesy: Unsplash
The phrase immediately drew international attention for what is, aside from a problematic suggestion of violence, indisputably a wrongful fusion and generalisation of identities: That all Jewish people are Israeli and vice versa. That all Israeli support government policy and that their democracy,, perfectly represents its people. The outrage of critics is understandable, because one cannot hold the followers of a religion accountable to the actions of a state. But what is the proper response? What holds people back from responding like that?
Let’s consider the first: what is the proper response?
To some, purely condemning the emotional responses seems like the righteous thing to do. Akin to ‘cancelling’, it signals strong moral values of a community – a means of profiling and effective deterrence. Enforcing a communal law through punishment. On the other hand, this practice in and of itself lacks incentives to engage in productive dialogue. Deterrence deters – it does not convince, nor generate understanding by those deterred. That there are solid explanations of why one turns to anonymous online petitions, sharing messages in close circles, or doubling down on condemnation is no secret: resolving interpersonal moral disagreements between polarised sides deeply rooted in diverging worldviews and personal identity is a delicate exercise. Yet this does not excuse us from developing the abilities to deal with these situations. After all, facing dialogues with fellow citizens that are not your direct friends is a minor responsibility in a democracy. Members of society should be able to navigate grievances surrounding identity on the personal level without the dynamic of punishment.
The pull of identity
Observation and facts rarely play the decisive role in arguments, so it is important to understand the psychological undercurrents that charge debates involving identity. These roots extend deep into our needs and hinder a diplomatic response. We need a sense of self and belonging to ground ourselves in reality. We need meaning and purpose to know our place in this world. We need alignment with personal morality to judge our own actions. When individuals have a stable and positive sense of who they are, they can navigate life's challenges with greater resilience, meaning, and connection to others. And these aspects are determinately informed by our national history, cultural heritage and religious prescripts. Because identity is too dear to our personal wellbeing, it is a lightning rod guiding back talk towards even the most well-intentioned criticisms.
Strangely, though identity is so core to one’s life, the labels it comes with are messy and overlapping. Identities consist of complexly woven strands of belief systems. To be a Flemish nationalist catholic loyal to the socialist party signals roughly what you believe and who you are. It is an easy shorthand for identification. At the same time, it is a poor label to direct scrutiny at, because anyone can self-identify. Nationalities, religions, political affiliations are belief systems with broad canopies. There is quite some variation within those groups about what beliefs (e.g. moral, social, historical) one should subscribe to. Sure, one could maintain theoretical categories and argue that a Flemish nationalist should believe in more independence, that a catholic should believe in the authority of the pope and a socialist should believe all means of production should be in the hands of people. But in reality you may find many Flemish nationalists that simply want to be proud of Flanders, catholics that simply practice christianity in the presence of baroque, and socialists that self-identify as such by wanting a liveable minimum wage.
Canopy of beliefs
Exactly because there is diversity under the canopies of religion make criticisms of a religion so easily susceptible to anti-religious discrimination. For to criticise Jews, Catholics, Muslims for a belief or action is to assume - to generalize - that all under that canopy would believe or act like that. And when different identities overlap, for example because a country acts on a state religion, criticism of that state can cross into the anti-religious. This occurs frequently with Muslims who, despite of their individual interpretation of Islam, are generally held accountable for others who subscribe to a more extreme version, or are affected by state like Iran following that religion. The conflict in Gaza shows two sides of this coin. On the one hand, any mere sympathy for Hamas (acting as state, military and religion - for the lack of any alternative one must add), appears to move Gazan citizens to the bracket of accomplice. On the other hand, in the case of Israeli Jews, overlapping identities — as ethnic Jews, religious Jews, Zionists, and citizens of a Jewish state — can make it difficult to disentangle legitimate political critiques of the Israeli government from harmful generalizations about Jewish people. A criticism of Israel's policies can easily morph into antisemitism when it assumes that all Jews worldwide are collectively responsible for the actions of the Israeli government or equates expansionist Zionism, a political ideology, with all expressions of Zionism or Jewish identity. This overlap creates a fertile ground for prejudice, as criticism of Israel’s policies or Zionism can quickly become a pretext for targeting Jewish people in general, fueling age-old stereotypes and fostering hostility toward Jews as a whole, rather than addressing specific political actions or decisions. Again, it remains decisive what people mean by the label, what beliefs and actions it specifically entails for individuals rather than most ascribe to.
Being specific and nuances sounds like a broken record, but being mindful in personal conversations makes a difference. When we are careless with labels, terms and criticisms, we risk needlessly attacking another on their identity that is core to their life for beliefs they do not hold or acts they condemn. That causes feelings of anxiety, scepticism and denial - we are simply uninclined to believe that which contradicts our sense of self, especially when we feel ‘our’ identity is misrepresented. At some level, this is bound to happen, as different ethnic-religious groups - especially those in conflict with each other - construct competing and sometimes mutually exclusive histories surrounding their group identity. Understanding different readings of collective history and identity could be a pure academic exercise were it the case that these readings do inform and justify violence and conflict today. Sunni’s and Shiites, Catholics and Orthodox, Palestinians and Israeli’s. And the less these groups engage with each other non-violently, the more it allows for reinforcement of one’s own perspective at the expense of the other.
Towards constructive dialogue
So the challenge ahead of us is how to engage in a dialogue with people when (i) we disagree personally, (ii) identities are at stake, (iii) broad labels that risk anti-religious discrimination are at play. It is known that the decisive factor in arguments, broadly speaking, will not be facts alone. Moral communities from all sides should, on top of the more outspoken public methods, practise an interpersonal approach that focuses on non-violent, empathic and ambitious dialogue. When meeting a person with opposing beliefs, what could one do to reconcile and grow towards a solution instead of entrenching ourselves in our positions? Many of these revolve around soft-skills. It is about how conversations are approached and managed. It is about not saying what you want to say, but searching for what you must to hear for the other to be understood and to facilitate mutual understanding. Though facts are still important, it is more about the emotions and recognition of those of the person in front of you. Here are some examples of what one could do.
Some guidance into inter-religious dialogue
Do not push until one agrees with you. Instead listen intently to make others feel heard, valued and understood. We are more open to the perspective of others if they are not in the game to get their point across, but to understand you. See understanding as the goal, not winning the argument.
Leave the (major) differences for later. Focus instead on shared ground, common values and mutual goals. How these become concrete is a topic for later. It is meaningful enough to agree both parties seek peace, safety, dignity, and self-determination in a way. Reasoning about the commons lessens the influence of the ‘us versus them’ dynamic (Haidt, 2012). Start with where there is room for compromise.
Formulate your ideas as subjective statements, not objective assertions. In the end, one acts most genuine and authentically when speaking in the first person (singular). Restrain from a final verdict and instead reframe your ideas as your own feelings and experiences. “This is problematic, because it violates our ethics” may express the same as “I find this difficult to accept, because it is not in line with the norms of communities that I associate with”, but convey a more antagonistic message. In the end, speaking from personal experience dissenters group identities, humanises the points put forward and avoids treading on entrenched group identities
Do acknowledge trauma. Though personal experiences are a better conduit to achieve dialogue, one cannot neglect the collective memories of persecution and displacement that play a central role in the Israeli-Palestine conflict, on both sides. Volkan, 1998.
Conclusion
In summary, the controversy surrounding the HUMO column highlights just how precarious conversations around identity and criticism can be, especially when national, ethnic, and religious labels are tangled. While the initial emotional response to the suffering in Gaza is understandable, the inflammatory phrase crossed a line by blending individual identities with the actions of a state. As we've seen, when criticisms of Israeli policies, Zionism, or any state-run ideology bleed into an attack on Jewish people globally, they risk perpetuating age-old antisemitic tropes. And the same holds for Muslim people - they risk being held accountable for Islamic states by association. In these cases, labels do not only generalise and discriminate, but also obfuscate the debate about the specific underlying problematic beliefs and actions.
Democratic societies must be able to respond with an inter-personal alternative to blanket condemnation and punishment. If we are to navigate these sensitive issues, we must try to prioritise listening over lecturing, understanding over victory, and shared humanity over divisive labels. So, the next time you find yourself on the cusp of a heated discussion, remember:
Meaningful dialogue is not a duel. It’s a dance—awkward, difficult, but with enough patience, we just might avoid stepping on each other's toes.
