They did not know it was a Jewish cemetery. They did not intend it to be an act of Antisemtism.
So explained five teenage boys in France after they turned themselves into the police. They had vandalized the cemetery, upending tombstones and spray-painting swastikas.
Let us suppose it is possible that their naiveté is genuine. If what they say is true, then without specific malice towards Jews, these five, aged 15-16 chose a random symbol, which just turned out to be a sign of Aryan power and hatred towards Jews. Nor were they aware that the tombstones marked the graves of Jews. Sure they knew it was bad, and they are willing to admit they were up to some mischief, but by no means were they out to make national news as Antisemites.
If is it is hard for you to believe, that is understandable. Even if their naiveté were believable (which it is not,) the context in which their actions took place, moves it from being an isolated act of individuals to part of a broader narrative of hatred. Their actions are framed by hundreds of years of desecrating Jewish cemeteries in Europe, the Nazi atrocities in Europe and the current wave of small and large acts of violence towards Jews in France and across Europe.
Whether these boys intended Antisemitism or not, it is impossible to remove this incident from the history and contemporary reality in which acts against Jews are in part of a systematic ongoing hatred against Jews.
When a systematic pattern of hatred and discrimination has been entrenched over the generations, it is impossible to remove a single event from that context. The pervasive denigration of another group contributes to the permissibility of action against that group, the use of particular symbols or tropes in acting out. That these boys painted swastikas instead of smiley faces is no random act.
Recently in sentencing three young white men for beating and then driving over James Craig, an African American, U.S. District Judge Carlton Reeves, provided historical context for this heinous crime. His thoughtful and painful look at the role racial hatred has played in Mississippi made it clear that no amount of general good behavior or church involvement on the part of the perpetrators could lessen the meaning or impact of this crime. As they drove over and killed Mr. Craig, they yelled about White Power. This was no random act.
Similarly, last week when three Muslim American students were shot in cold blood in their home in North Carolina, it was hard to see the act as distinct from the culture of Islamophobia that exists currently in the United States. That Yusor Mohammad Abu-Salha, 21; her husband, Deah Shaddy Barakat, 23; and her sister, Razan Mohammad Abu-Salha, 19 had run-ins with Chris Hicks (the alleged murderer) about parking has been established. But we cannot remove that dispute, or Hicks’ turning up to game night with a shotgun in hand, or his eventual shooting of three innocent people in their home, from the general negative vision of Islam that has become commonly acceptable in many quarters.
Persistent communal hatred is frightening on many levels. It is not easily banished. It seeps into our day to day. When we knowingly or even unintentionally contribute to narratives of discrimination, against people with different colored skin, different religions, from different regions, sexual orientations, or abilities, we contribute to creating a broader culture of communal hatred. Our tradition teaches us the need to be vigilant and think about how we act and treat the other, for there is no room for claims of naiveté when it comes to acting in or contributing to a context of hatred.
