Lacking other grounds, an openly selfish call for peace

Everyone who is against Bush's planned war in Iraq — a group which seems to include almost the entire population of the earth at this point, including an ever-growing percentage of Americans — has his or her own reasons for this conviction. Some are morally opposed to war, arguing that any invasion of Iraq would be unjust. Others' opposition is more pragmatic; they maintain that weapons inspectors could finish the job if only given a few more months, or that a war in the Middle East would only serve to further destabilize the region and encourage terrorism.

But my opposition to the war isn't morally grounded, and it isn't even pragmatic, at least not in the sense of stemming from what I believe to be in the interests of global stability or American security. No, my opposition to the war is purely self-interested. I just don't want to be hated.

Few Princeton undergraduates can imagine what it's like to be a foreigner in your own country, but a year or two in the Grad College is an eyeopening experience for any American. Here, Uncle Sam's nieces and nephews are in the decided minority; you're just as likely to hear Chinese or Turkish echoing off the gothic masonry as you are to hear English.

These days, that Chinese or Turkish talk is likely to include some pretty strong language denouncing American foreign policy. Even the Canadians — slipping into French, the classic language for anti-American diatribes — can't stop harping on how much Bush's unilateralist warmongering infuriates them. And though my Gore-supporting credentials are unquestioned, feelings here often get so heated that I get more than a little singed myself. I am an American, after all, and Bush is carrying out his war plans in my name.

Things will even get worse for me this summer, when I return to Germany for a third round of language study on Princeton's tab. Don't get me wrong; no one could complain that the university provides summer funding for virtually every enrolled grad student, paying for us to scatter around the globe each June. This summer, however, we're likely to encounter real hostility as we order up our Princeton-subsidized croissants or bratwurst in unmistakable American accents.

Last year, things were different. As soon as I'd open my mouth, Germans would ask me where I was from and I'd be sure to always say "New York." As hostile as they were to Bush and American imperialism, Germans still felt deeply about the tragedy of September 11 and always offered their sympathy — often accompanied by a beer, a sausage or, in the case of a number of Aryan maidens, a phone number.

According to a recent article in the New York Times, however, many young Germans now see the events of September 11 as the equivalent of the Reichstag fire — a mere excuse, perhaps even a planned one, for a "second Hitler" to bring his tyranny to the world. At a Berlin high school, students repeated conspiracy theories about the Central Intelligence Agency planning the attacks themselves, and sympathy for the victims of September 11 has been displaced by a deep loathing for Bush.

To be sure, the conspiracy theories of these Berliners are as mad as those found on the most paranoid-schizophrenic corners of the Internet. But any foreign policy that manages to turn the ordinary citizens of the world's liberal democracies into unreasoning America-haters has something very wrong with it. In an era when a small group of angry, well-organized individuals is capable of murdering thousands, such feelings surely pose more of a threat to America's security than do Saddam Hussein and Kim Jong Il combined. Hatred, after all, is the worst weapon of mass destruction.

More importantly, however, these anti-American feelings are both poisoning the air right here in the Grad College, and promising me a rather uncomfortable summer in Germany. No amount of $1.15 gasoline is worth the liters of Pilsner which won't be bought for me in Berlin's beer gardens, or the cold stares that I will receive from the ber-blond Helgas, as they shudder at the sound of my imperialist accent.

So give peace a chance, Dubya — if only for my sake.