Disagreeing Without Banishing
Disagree with me, no problem. But do you really need to call for my deportation?
Over six years ago, after delivering brief remarks to congregants at a synagogue, a few individuals approached me afterward and told me emphatically that my words were objectionable and inappropriate. I didn’t agree with them, but I was thankful that they told me.
Some context. In March 2019, the unthinkable occurred in Christchurch, New Zealand. At two mosques during Friday prayers, a perpetrator shot and killed 51 people and injured scores of others. Evidence revealed that the perpetrator was motivated by his animosity towards Muslims and immigrants. The devastation ricocheted not only across New Zealand, with the Prime Minister calling the event one of the darkest days in the country’s history, but also across the world.
In New Jersey, nearly 9,000 miles away, our communities felt the impact. The tragedy came less than five months after the horrific shooting at the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh that resulted in eleven deaths and many others injured. Days after the shooting in New Zealand, a synagogue in northern New Jersey hosted an interfaith prayer vigil to remember the victims, and the organizers invited me to share a few words. I served in state government at the time and agreed to do so.
In the moments leading to the vigil, I remember feeling both the weight of the moment and frustration. The weight because any one of those victims could have been easily me or my loved ones; I recalled the many times that I attended prayers at our local mosque during my childhood. The frustration because the moment demanded action.
When I took the lectern, I shared my shock and sorrow. But I also observed how in the United States and across the world, the rhetoric of hate appeared to be on the rise. I commented on the work (i.e., action) that my colleagues and I undertook here at home to achieve a vision that welcomes all, whether it be combatting harmful policies against Dreamers and asylum seekers, and opposing the Muslim ban. I ended by remarking that one of the first victims in the New Zealand shooting actually greeted the perpetrator as he entered the mosque with “Hello, brother,” a lesson for us to emulate despite the ensuing tragedy.
Immediately after the conclusion of the vigil, a few individuals beelined to me. They thanked me for attending, but they objected strongly to my choice of words. In their view, my invocation of the work was “too political” and had no place in a vigil. They advised me that I should have limited my remarks to expressions of sorrow and not referenced anything that would be seen as political.
Now looking back years later, while I still disagree with their views (maybe a post for another day about the differences between advancing policy, the political process, and partisanship), I appreciated that they shared their views with me. Truly. They didn’t interrupt me while I was speaking. They didn’t insult me personally. They didn’t call for me to be removed from the United States. In fact, they thanked me for participating.
Today, in contrast, I fear that our public discourse is devolving to a point of no return. Instead of a vigorous back and forth contesting the merits of policy and our vision for the country, more and more are resorting to personal attacks (which, admittedly, is far from a novel development), attacks on faith, and - at times - calling into question the very existence of one’s political adversary in this land.
Not surprisingly, with this backdrop, the public is becoming more cynical with politics. Recent polling has revealed that most American voters believe that the country “is incapable of overcoming its deep divisions.”
The race for New York City mayor is emblematic of the current state of public discourse, and for me, it has struck a nerve. Assemblymember Zohran Mamdani, the Democratic nominee for New York City mayor, has been subjected to a variety of criticism at all levels of intensity. The critiques on his policy proposals, like an increase of the income tax for wealthy earners, government-run grocery stores, or free bus rides, are fair game, and New York City voters should critically examine these and other proposed policies and make their own judgments.
But the attacks on Mamdani’s Islamic faith and his very presence1 not only cross a red line and harm a whole swath of communities beyond the candidate himself, they also distract from the matters that actually impact people. Trafficking in Islamaphobic tropes does nothing for folks who are struggling to survive in one of the most expensive cities in the United States. Calling for the stripping of Mandani’s citizenship does nothing to improve schools or small businesses.
All these attacks do, instead, is sow division to make one group feel better and another group feel worse. And they cause a chilling effect. As I explained before, for those who share a similar background, they may conclude understandably that the cost to serve their communities may simply be too high. The message that these attacks send is loud and clear to an entire generation of prospective leaders. If you wish to serve, don’t bother.
The current course is not sustainable. Let’s bring the focus back to the issues that actually affect each and every one of us. Let’s debate the issues vigorously and be candid about our disagreements. But let’s leave the nonsense out of it.
At least two members of Congress, plus other political leaders, have called for Mamdani’s deportation.