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 

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Campus Antisemitism Then & Now

Howard Lovy

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