I grew up during the Cold War. Growing up in those years meant learning implicitly to fear and hate Russians (because at the time, I and probably most others didn't really understand that the Soviet Union consisted of multiple ethnic groups, not only Russians). We viewed them as the great red menace that threatened our very way of life. We certainly did not think of them as real people who lived day by day and who had hopes, dreams, worries and fears that in many ways were not that different from our own. We couldn't be allowed to think of them in this way, because if we did, we might begin to see them as human. Once we recognized their humanity, we might dare to question the morality of threatening them with annihilation just so that we could feel more secure.
Even before the end of the Cold War I
had my first opportunity to travel behind “the Iron Curtain,” the
physical and philosophical barrier that divided Europe for almost two
generations. Behind the curtain I met real people who got up, went to
work or school, ate their food, spent time with their family and
other daily activities much as I did, even if the specifics looked
quite different and the language they spoke seemed quite strange.
Some years later, after the Berlin Wall came down and Europe
radically reoriented itself, I had the opportunity to live in Russia
and become friends with not only Russians but people from other
ex-Soviet ethnic groups. Sometimes it struck me as quite strange,
meeting people whom not so many years earlier I could have easily
found myself at war with. At the same time I recognized once again
the commonality of our humanity. Yes, we had differences, but
ultimately we shared very significant similarities. Now that I have
friends among Russians and other groups, I cannot simply see them as
an anonymous, faceless “other,” an enemy to fear and defend
against. I could not easily go to war against them, because I would
know that on the other side of that battle front were people much
like me, people who might know friends of mine, or who might even be
friends of mine.
Some still fear the Russians, but for
the most part Americans have shifted their fear to other people
groups. The attacks of September 11 focused us on a new enemy. And
just as we did in the Cold War and prior to that in other wars, we
have labeled another group that is different from us as the enemy. We
promote fear and even hatred of these people because we feel
threatened. Certainly there are some who do threaten our country and
our way of life. But rather than seeing them as the exception, we
choose to identify all who are like them as an anonymous mass. It's
much easier to hate them that way. We don't have to acknowledge their
individuality or their humanity. We “other” them so that we don't
have to feel any compassion for them or acknowledge them as humans
who also have basic human rights.
I see this in particular at the moment
in the attitude toward Iranians. Iranians are the new Russians. They
are the face of evil. All Iranians obviously detest us and wish
nothing more than to annihilate the United States and Israel. We feel
justified in calling for violence and aggression against these people
because, after all, they are “the enemy.” In doing so we
conveniently forget, or ignore, that most Iranians have no say in the
activities of their government. Most of them simply want to live
life, to take care of their families, to experience a little bit of
joy. Although in many ways different from us, they too share in our
common humanity. While working overseas I had the opportunity to meet
a few Iranians in person. I found most of them to be quite pleasant
people, very hospitable and sociable, and not at all antagonistic
toward me as an American. Meeting these people challenged and changed
my perception of this people group, because they reminded me that
Iranians are people too.
Whenever we are inclined to label a
group of people, to paint them with a broad brush, to deny them their
basic human rights simply because we feel threatened by them or
because they are different from us, we need to stop and remember that
whatever group we are labeling is really nothing more than a
collection of individuals, each with a unique personality, each
seeking to live his or her life just as we are. Each person, whatever
her or his nationality, ethnicity, sexuality or any other
characteristic, has been created uniquely by God and is treasured by
her or his Creator. When we see people in this way, can we possible
treat their lives as anything less than precious?
I am deeply troubled by the calls I see
in the media that call for violence and promote hatred and fear of
other groups. I am particularly disturbed that many times these calls
come from people who call themselves followers of Jesus Christ. I
read calls for the United States to retaliate against Libyans, or
Iranians, or others with overwhelming force, not thinking about the
many ordinary people who will suffer and die as a result of our
excessive response. To those calling for such action, these lives
don't matter. They are not worth as much as our American lives.
Surely God weeps when hearing such words. God, who died that all
people might experience new life, does not consider an American life
one bit more valuable than a Libyan, Iranian or Russian life. To
think otherwise is faulty theology.
The other day I was listening to an old
song by Sting from the era of the Cold War. I think its message still
has value for us to day, so I close by sharing this song with you.