PS Revised Draft
Posted: Wed Nov 04, 2015 7:26 pm
Hi, I've revised my PS draft and was hoping to get some more advice/criticism. So far everyone has been super helpful. Also, someone recommended that I find a way to work in why I want to go to law school (potentially from an international law perspective) and how I have strengthened my analytical/reasoning skills. If anyone has some suggestions of how to tie that into my draft, I'd love to hear it. There's also one sentence that I bolded because I'm strongly considering deleting it and want to know what someone else thinks. Thanks in advance!
Growing up in Princeton, New Jersey meant that I knew many people who worked in New York City. Like other communities with lots of New York-bound commuters, I had deeply personal experiences with the attacks on September 11th, 2001. My own dad was in the World Trade Center that morning to get our summer vacation photos developed – he left about an hour before the first plane hit. Like many Americans, I quickly became exposed to some very basic notions about Islam, the Middle East, and U.S. foreign policy in the wake of the terrorist attacks. Many years later, this experience would set me on an educational path towards law school.
In my sophomore year at McGill, I realized that most of the history I’d ever studied focused on the United States or Europe. I was concerned that my narrow education in history affected my perception of the world. To find out, I resolved to take a history class on the Arab-Israeli conflict. I felt that this was a subject where the little context I had was informed by an apparent consensus on the issue in the United States. American foreign policy had virtually always been staunchly pro-Israel, and it seemed that opinions on Palestinians were shot through with the same assumptions and stereotypes that I first encountered in the wake of 9/11. I wanted to know why. Were Israeli actions in the Middle East basically always justified? Were Palestinians and other Arabs generally angry, freedom-hating jihadists? Sitting in a lecture hall waiting for my economics class to begin, I emailed Professor Parsons, who taught the Arab-Israeli conflict class – the course was over-enrolled and I needed her permission to join.
My suspicions were confirmed. I quickly learned that the mainstream American narrative on the Arab-Israeli conflict and the Middle East in general was massively oversimplified and plagued by ignorance. Beyond providing a fresh understanding of the Middle East, I fell in love with the subject matter itself. From that point on, nearly every history class I took focused on the Arab world. At the same time I learned about various Arab cultures, I read about British and French imperialism. Colonial encounters taught me about both the conquerors and subjugated. For example, for most of the 19th century, Egypt did not have a secular legal system. This was seen as “backwards” and “uncivilized” by burdened white men. I saw that many of the stereotypes of Islam and Arabs in the United States were by no means new or a product of 9/11, but rather inherited from an older imperialist tradition that denigrated Arab civilization.
The more I learned, the more that I began to delve into extremely complicated and contentious discussions. Many of my friends at McGill, including my roommates, were Jewish and had staunchly pro-Israeli upbringings. Rather than shying away from uncomfortable topics during Israel’s 2013 military campaign in Gaza, I was able to spark a constructive conversation with my roommates about the Arab-Israeli conflict without causing arguments or dismissing their perspectives. Another time, I calmly explained to my dad’s friend why I thought his proposal of “killing all the mullahs” would probably not stop ISIS. In one class, I helped to convince a fellow classmate, an Arab prince no less, that his view of a historical figure was overly nationalistic. I feel the need to have these discussions – and the need to keep them civil – because I realized that such polarizing issues were either not being addressed at all, or that any mention of them would spiral into a political slap fight.
Learning how to engage with complex and politically charged subjects has been one of my proudest takeaways from studying the Middle East. It’s made me more intellectually humble and will to both admit how little I actually knew and to challenge preconceived notions I had previously been taught. I was able to see entirely different perspectives on the Arab-Israeli conflict, even though not all of them reflected well on my own country. Above all, I discovered how much more could be learned, both inside and outside the classroom, by keeping an open mind and finding ways to truly discuss thorny issues instead of avoiding them or fueling bitter arguments.
I think my ability to be open-minded in my understanding of the history of the Middle East and keep conversations civil would translate well to a career in law. I believe I can bring this same outlook to the classroom in law school and foster valuable debates without excessive tension. Likewise, I would love the opportunity to hear many different views through the lens of legal education. Not only would this be intellectually enriching, but it would also serve to make me a more effective lawyer in the future.
Growing up in Princeton, New Jersey meant that I knew many people who worked in New York City. Like other communities with lots of New York-bound commuters, I had deeply personal experiences with the attacks on September 11th, 2001. My own dad was in the World Trade Center that morning to get our summer vacation photos developed – he left about an hour before the first plane hit. Like many Americans, I quickly became exposed to some very basic notions about Islam, the Middle East, and U.S. foreign policy in the wake of the terrorist attacks. Many years later, this experience would set me on an educational path towards law school.
In my sophomore year at McGill, I realized that most of the history I’d ever studied focused on the United States or Europe. I was concerned that my narrow education in history affected my perception of the world. To find out, I resolved to take a history class on the Arab-Israeli conflict. I felt that this was a subject where the little context I had was informed by an apparent consensus on the issue in the United States. American foreign policy had virtually always been staunchly pro-Israel, and it seemed that opinions on Palestinians were shot through with the same assumptions and stereotypes that I first encountered in the wake of 9/11. I wanted to know why. Were Israeli actions in the Middle East basically always justified? Were Palestinians and other Arabs generally angry, freedom-hating jihadists? Sitting in a lecture hall waiting for my economics class to begin, I emailed Professor Parsons, who taught the Arab-Israeli conflict class – the course was over-enrolled and I needed her permission to join.
My suspicions were confirmed. I quickly learned that the mainstream American narrative on the Arab-Israeli conflict and the Middle East in general was massively oversimplified and plagued by ignorance. Beyond providing a fresh understanding of the Middle East, I fell in love with the subject matter itself. From that point on, nearly every history class I took focused on the Arab world. At the same time I learned about various Arab cultures, I read about British and French imperialism. Colonial encounters taught me about both the conquerors and subjugated. For example, for most of the 19th century, Egypt did not have a secular legal system. This was seen as “backwards” and “uncivilized” by burdened white men. I saw that many of the stereotypes of Islam and Arabs in the United States were by no means new or a product of 9/11, but rather inherited from an older imperialist tradition that denigrated Arab civilization.
The more I learned, the more that I began to delve into extremely complicated and contentious discussions. Many of my friends at McGill, including my roommates, were Jewish and had staunchly pro-Israeli upbringings. Rather than shying away from uncomfortable topics during Israel’s 2013 military campaign in Gaza, I was able to spark a constructive conversation with my roommates about the Arab-Israeli conflict without causing arguments or dismissing their perspectives. Another time, I calmly explained to my dad’s friend why I thought his proposal of “killing all the mullahs” would probably not stop ISIS. In one class, I helped to convince a fellow classmate, an Arab prince no less, that his view of a historical figure was overly nationalistic. I feel the need to have these discussions – and the need to keep them civil – because I realized that such polarizing issues were either not being addressed at all, or that any mention of them would spiral into a political slap fight.
Learning how to engage with complex and politically charged subjects has been one of my proudest takeaways from studying the Middle East. It’s made me more intellectually humble and will to both admit how little I actually knew and to challenge preconceived notions I had previously been taught. I was able to see entirely different perspectives on the Arab-Israeli conflict, even though not all of them reflected well on my own country. Above all, I discovered how much more could be learned, both inside and outside the classroom, by keeping an open mind and finding ways to truly discuss thorny issues instead of avoiding them or fueling bitter arguments.
I think my ability to be open-minded in my understanding of the history of the Middle East and keep conversations civil would translate well to a career in law. I believe I can bring this same outlook to the classroom in law school and foster valuable debates without excessive tension. Likewise, I would love the opportunity to hear many different views through the lens of legal education. Not only would this be intellectually enriching, but it would also serve to make me a more effective lawyer in the future.