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No, thanks: Stop saying “support the troops”

A reboot of an old essay with some added reflection.

This article was originally published at Salon in August, 2013. It got me into lots of trouble. I was teaching at Virginia Tech at the time and the campus’s large ROTC contingent took grave offense to what they considered an unfair portrayal of the troops. Fox got hold of the article and soon it was in the news cycle. I was nearly fired and put under police protection. Things were very tense for a few days. I was asked to explain myself to an auditorium filled with hundreds of cadets. I did, without conceding any of my arguments, and ended up leading a productive conversation, one that appeared to displease the commander who had conscripted me into the event. What I remember most, though, is the utter cowardice of my colleagues at Tech, who refused to speak in my defense. That cowardice would finally eliminate whatever residual belief I had in academe as a site of insurgency. Despite the trouble, it’s one of my favorite essays. I knew when I finished that I had produced something capable of outlasting the moment, a rare and special feeling for a writer. I figured the piece would generate some conversation, but didn’t expect to provoke nationwide outrage—in no small part because, having tailored it for a mainstream publication, I considered it rather tame and conservative. Reading the essay eight years later, I find that I’m different politically. The permissiveness I expressed about my son one day joining the military arose from a youthful notion of freedom that is deeply masculine and deeply American. (My wife told me at the time that I’m out of my mind.) I’m no longer sanguine about the possibility. Nor am I so willing to absolve individuals of violence even if they exist on the low end of a hierarchy. Nevertheless, I still recognize philosophical value in the rhetoric I chose and am happy that the essay continues to challenge the logic of a destructive ideology so many years after its initial publication.

The Taming of Anti-Zionism in the United States

The Palestine solidarity movement in the United States has lost much of its revolutionary attitude. Is it ever coming back?

It’s difficult to reflect on the history of radical social movements without the curse of nostalgia. Partly this is because time mitigates bygone frustrations, leaving us with exaggerated memories of idealism and youthful energy. But partly it’s also because radical social movements in the USA all seem to follow the same negative trajectory. (It doesn’t help that the climate apocalypse is palpable with no possibility of relief in sight.)

How to Handle a Zionist Defamation Campaign

Nothing is guaranteed to save your job, but here are some suggestions that might give you a fighting chance.

I often work with people who have been targeted for punishment by the Israel lobby (or the Zionist establishment, if you prefer). It’s a gratifying but difficult task because victims of Zionist smear campaigns are usually scared and confused. That reaction is logical. Zionists aim to render their targets unemployable (and thus destitute). Such viciousness reflects the behavior of the state they want to indemnify from criticism.

Is Palestine a Muslim Issue?

Sorting the intricacies of an impossible debate.

Is Palestine a “Muslim” issue? I regularly see some variation of the question these days—with predictably passionate, and sometimes acrimonious, responses.

In short: yes, it is.

Sheikh Jarrah: Zionism Distilled to Its Purest Expression

Dispossessing Palestinians is Zionism’s primary function.

This article was originally published in Arabic at Awan.

Western journalists, always mindful of the limits imposed by the ruling class, have a million ways of minimizing or mystifying Israeli brutality in the Jerusalem neighborhood of Sheikh Jarrah, where several Palestinian families are set to be expelled to make way for Jewish settlers.

The Utility of Uselessness

Don’t wonder how so many useless people got good academic jobs. Their uselessness was the attraction all along.

You know the type. Drenched in white-collar affectations. Never skips a social event. Enamored of minor accomplishments. Considers fastidiousness a form of rebellion. Eggheaded, but in an arrogant rather than endearing way. Talks a lot while saying nothing at all.

This person is likely a professor at a prestigious university.

Betty McCollum Takes on the Israel Lobby

A close reading of “Defending the Human Rights of Palestinian Children and Families Living under Israeli Military Occupation Act”

Betty McCollum (D-MN) recently introduced legislation, with (thus far) thirteen cosponsors and dozens of organizational endorsements, that has generated significant interest. The main gist of the legislation is to condition U.S. aid to Israel on Israeli adherence to international human rights standards. The interest derives in part from the fact that what can be considered “pro-Palestine” legislation is a rarity in the U.S. Congress. McCollum is bucking the near-complete fealty to Israel customary among her House and Senate colleagues.

Palestine is not a Quagmire

The metaphors that attempt to render Palestine complicated obscure the simple brutality of Zionist colonization.

Palestine is not a minefield. Palestine is not complicated. Palestine is not a morass. Palestine is not tricky. Palestine is not a quagmire.

Palestine is not almost impossible to navigate.

The Muslim Zionists

A generation of compradors has learned that Palestinians are valuable raw material for careerism.

A few days ago, I finally managed to synthesize an observation that has bothered me for decades: “Being an asshole to Palestinians is an excellent way to launch a media career in the United States.” From Martin Peretz to Bari Weiss, the strategy has rarely failed writers seeking bylines in prestigious newspapers.

The Architecture of Surveillance in Northern Virginia

The unfreedom we often fear is real, and it’s visible everywhere

Back in November, I had to drop off my bus at one of the county garages for a minor repair. On the way, I radioed dispatch and said I’d need a ride back to the lot where my car was parked. I dallied outside the garage office, on the clock, until my ride ambled along and scooped me up.

The driver was inquisitive and after learning that I was relatively new asked if I enjoy my work. Not wanting to reveal too much about myself—I hate mixing politics with chitchat—I started joke-complaining about how goddamn hard it is to find the garage. The gambit worked. My new friend told me a funny story about his first year on the job.