10 | AUGUST 5 • 2021

I

n 1985, I stood in the
corner of a crowded
meeting room at the
Wayne State University
Student Center, stone-faced,
while people I
did not know
lined up at a
microphone
to denounce
me before
the Student
Newspaper
Publications
Board.
“I don’t think Howard
Lovy should be editor of the
The South End because he
is biased toward Israel,” said
one, referring to the name
of the student newspaper,
where I was up for the
editor’s position. The board
would decide if I should take
the top job. I was next in
line, and the position should
have been mine.
However ...
“Howard is a Zionist, so he
should be disqualified from
this important job as editor
of The South End.”
Some of them said
something about the racist
rabbi, Rabbi Meir Kahane;
another said something
about the Sabra and Shatila
massacre in Lebanon three
years previously. Apparently,
I was responsible for all these
things and people. I should
not have been surprised.
A few “anti-Zionist”
students had targeted me
months earlier and not only
peppered the Letters to the
Editor column about me but
would show up at The South
End office specifically to

harass and threaten me.
At this hearing, there were
not dozens, but hundreds
of people I had never met,
telling the board about
what a lousy journalist I
was because I had written
pieces on the opinion
page in support of Israel.
The Student Newspaper
Publications Board, wary
of controversy because of
a previous editor’s anti-
military activism, rejected
me, and I did not get the job.
I was 19 years old then.
I’m 55 now and over the
shock, but I look back on
it as a key event in my
development as a Jew and
as a journalist. It was an
important lesson for me in
how isolating antisemitism
could be.
It was difficult for me to
explain to my friends and
colleagues that this even
was antisemitism at all. I
mean, it seemed perfectly
reasonable to many that my
“bias” in favor of Israel’s
existence compromised
my impartiality. But what
was the “other side” I was
supposed to take equally?
Israel’s nonexistence? In
1985, at the age of 19, I
lacked the words to explain
to anybody that I was being
targeted for harassment
specifically because I was a
Jew.
In this way, I understand
what is happening on
campus today, with the
rise in antisemitism
masquerading as anti-
Zionism.

SAME THING —
DIFFERENT NAME
The AMCHA Initiative has
been tracking antisemitic
incidents and activities on
college campuses all over
the country since 2015.
Out of curiosity, I punched
Wayne State University
into their database and
found 16 incidents of
“antisemitic expression” and
“BDS activity” (Boycott,
Divestment, and Sanctions
against Israel) between
March 2016 and June of this
year.
The argument, of course,
can be made that all these
events are not antisemitic,
that they simply express
solidarity with Palestinians.
And, if you’re not a Jew
on campus and see and
feel for yourself how these
things manifest themselves
in reality, it is difficult
to explain this gray area
between pro-Palestinian
activism and antisemitic
hate speech. You just know it
when you feel it.
And, ultimately, Jews are
gaslighted with the phrase,
“Criticism of Israel is not
antisemitism,” which creates
a nonexistent caricature of
a Jew who takes offense at
every criticism of Israel.
What got me into the
whole mess, and sent me
down a path I continue to
this day, was a story I wrote
about a pamphlet. Earlier
that year, the director of the
campus Hillel approached
me at the Wayne State
Student Center. He tossed
a book near my lunch tray

and asked, “Guess what I
found the Muslim Students
Association selling at
Manoogian Hall?”
It was The Protocols of
the Learned Elders of Zion,
that infamous czarist-era
Russian forgery that set
out the Jewish plan for
world domination. The
Hillel director knew I wrote
about Jewish issues, so he
challenged me to write a
story about this.
“It doesn’t matter if the
Protocols are fiction. Maybe
they are, maybe they aren’t,”
the head of the Muslim
Student Association told
me in an interview at the
time. “But you cannot deny
that many of the prophecies
in this book have come
true. Jews run the financial
systems.”

A NEMISIS
This student became my
nemesis. Every time I’d write
anything in The South End,
there he was to refute it.
Not only that, but it became
a campaign. The student
organization began tracking
everything I wrote. Once, I
ran into one of them while
shopping at Eastern Market.
I heard him say, “Zionist,” as
I walked by.
OK. Yes. That was, and
is, true. I am a Zionist. So,
how do you describe to non-
Jews that, to “anti-Zionists,
that is the equivalent of
saying, ‘“Dirty Jew.’” How
do you tell people that this
was not “just criticizing
Israel” when it’s part of a
coordinated campaign to

PURELY COMMENTARY

guest column

Campus Antisemitism Then & Now

Howard Lovy

continued on page 12