Jewish comedian Mikhail Zhvanetski said in one of his short plays before the 1970s that if you want to argue about the taste of coconut (which was not available in the Soviet Union at the time), it would be better to talk to those who actually tried it.
If you want to argue about anti-Semitism in academia, it’s best to ask those who actually experienced it. Ask me.
I was only 16 years old when I graduated from high school in Moscow in 1971. Authority My Ethnic Legacy (Jewish) is written by the authorities on my state ID. I can’t change it. I applied for “Mits Institute of Technology, Moscow”: Moscow Institute of Physics and Technology. I passed the entrance exam with bright colors: 20 points, more than 85% of the admissions offices. I was denied entry. I know why. The unwritten but strict quota is that Jews can account for 2% of the rebirth.
I did have an education at another university, and the Party’s Power Bureau did not observe it very closely. But six years later, looking for a job, I couldn’t find it. In part, this is because the directors of the college know that if Jews who are employed and then applied to immigrate to Israel, they may be subject to disciplinary action. Later I learned that I was hired only when the words of honor given to him by my future boss and close friends I would never immigrate.
Two years later, I applied for a Ph.D. Research at the famous Lebev Institute of Physics (seven Nobel Prize winners). At the time, one of Lebev’s officials who had to approve admissions was a notorious anti-Semitic official. My Gentile Advisor also knew to make sure officials would never see my characteristic Jewish face or my state ID and took over all paperwork personally under various excuses. When I was formally accepted and walked into the officer’s office, they looked like they were going to have a heart attack. This is anti-Semitism.
In 1994, 10 years after graduation, I moved to the United States and eventually, I provided services to the Naval Research Laboratory for more than 20 years. Then, in 2019, I joined the faculty at George Mason University, one of the most diverse universities in the country. Here, I have never seen any signs of anti-Semitism, not chopped. I graduated with a Muslim student and he was honored to have me as his consultant in his words (he even invited me to my sister’s wedding, which was restricted due to the pandemic, with only 20 guests). I taught several more Muslim students and did research with some other students. We discuss our religion publicly and if I choose to share one or another story from the Jewish experience, I find these students to be kind and compassionate listeners.
But now, the U.S. Department of Education is taking George Mason’s “a universal hostile environment for Jewish students and faculty.” This shocked me (for many of my Jewish colleagues at GMU) too, because I heard that I had broken my legs and never noticed it. In fact, in the months after October 7, during the growing number of pro-Palestinian protests on campus, I often praise Mason President Gregory Washington for giving this sensitive issue. While fully respecting the protests, freedom of speech and the First Amendment, he completely avoided damage to the educational process and university business.
At this point, I can study my experience again under the totalitarian regime. When I came to the United States in 1994, I was fascinated by the famous case of Yates v. America, in which the Supreme Court issued a ruling in stark contrast to Soviet rule. In the 1957 case, the court reversed the convictions of 14 California Communist leaders accused of advocating overthrow of the U.S. government by force. As Justice Black wrote, they “were tried the allegations they believe and hope that the lawsuit against this country, for us, is a mean, a form of authoritarian government, in which voices criticizing existing orders will be silent. I fear that the current prosecution is more consistent with the philosophy of authoritative government than our First Amendment.”
For me, the case reflects a typical feature of American democracy: Reshaping Voltaire: “We might find your point of view despicable, but defend the right to death.”
Although details of the anti-Semitism complaint against George Mason have not been made public, Washington’s leadership appears to be under attack due to two cases involving only three students. Only one of the cases involved suspected incidents (vasion) on campus. In both cases, the university administration worked with law enforcement to take immediate and harsh steps to address the situation: As Washington noted in a recent message to campus, the Jewish Community Relations Committee in Greater Washington praised the university for “deploying the university’s safety and discipline measures to prevent these students from damaging the harm of campus.”
These events are outliers. Just as three thieves who may be GMU students cannot prove “universal theft” on campus, the three students allegedly with violent anti-Israel agendas do not constitute a “universal hostile environment for Jewish students and faculty.” Instead, I will immediately and effectively deal with three illegal patients in the 40,000 student groups feel safer and more assured.
What makes me uncomfortable, and I do find anti-Semitism is the implicit suggestion: I am an American Jew without Israeli citizenship and must face any criticism of any action taken against the Israeli government, and must feel offensive and defensive. I find such beliefs to be condemned, and they have encroached upon my freedom to have my own views on international affairs.
Gregory Washington is my president and I believe he does a great job protecting all teachers and students, including Jews, from paranoia and harassment. With the excuse of “defending” Jews like me, the accusations of anti-Semitism on campus really threatened my happiness as a GMU professor.
