A lesson from the tragedy of death, deportation and raids in Minneapolis and around the country should be clear to all — especially to those in America of Jewish heritage. After decades of watching governments around the world and now here at home single out entire communities in the claimed name of security, we should know that collective blame produces instability, not safety. When an entire people are spoken of or acted against in sweeping, negative terms, the fallout rarely stays abstract — and too often imperils lives and community trust.
For someone who has spent a lifetime in diplomacy — and whose own family history is marked by discrimination, displacement and worse — I know this kind of rhetoric can have dramatic and dark consequences.
As a Jew who grew up in Brooklyn during and after the Second World War, surrounded by families who had escaped pogroms and the Holocaust, I learned early what it means for a people to be uprooted and denied safe haven. My parents raised me with the enduring principle of pikuach nefesh — that saving a life is not only a mitzvah but also a responsibility that extends far beyond one’s own community. The Talmud teaches that “whoever saves one life is considered to have saved an entire world.” Our obligation is clear.
Those values guided me throughout more than four decades of service to the United States. They shaped my approach to diplomacy, and they inspired some of the work of which I remain most proud. In 1991, as assistant secretary of state for African affairs, I supported Operation Solomon, the extraordinary airlift that brought more than 14,000 Ethiopian Jews to safety in Israel in just 36 hours. Many of those families had walked for days or weeks, crossed borders under threat, lived in camps and waited for the world to recognize their plight. I will never forget the images of the relief on their faces as they boarded planes to a new life. It was a moment when the international community chose compassion over indifference — and lives were saved.
My years working in and on the Horn of Africa also gave me a deep understanding of why Somali families eventually sought refuge in the United States. Somalia’s collapse in the late 1980s and early 1990s was devastating. Armed militias, political repression and the breakdown of state institutions displaced millions. No one leaves home under such circumstances unless there is no other choice. Those who arrived in America did so seeking safety and stability, just as countless refugees — including my own ancestors — once did.
Today, by far the vast majority of Somali Americans contribute meaningfully to communities across the country, particularly in Minnesota. They are business owners, teachers, health care workers and public servants. Many are naturalized citizens. Their collective stories reflect resilience and civic commitment, not the negative portrayals that too often dominate public discourse. Individual violators of America’s laws should be prosecuted individually. An entire people should not be persecuted.
I’ve seen up close what Jewish memory also teaches — that societies can begin their slide toward injustice by defining outsiders as unwelcome or unworthy. We must remain attentive to moments when entire groups are characterized in broad, disparaging terms. Our nation is at its best when it evaluates individuals on their merits, rather than through the lens of stereotype or suspicion.
I cannot remain silent when those seeking refuge are spoken of in ways that undermine their lives and dignity. The United States has long upheld a rigorous, lawful refugee process rooted in values shared across many faiths. Discrimination against any group risks turning us away from those principles.
America’s strength has always rested on the diversity of its people — nearly all of whom, save Indigenous Americans, arrived as immigrants or are descendants of immigrants. We must not turn away those whose names sound unfamiliar, whose skin tone differs from our own, or whose prayers rise in another language. To do so would contradict the very traditions that have guided and enriched our nation.
Herman J. Cohen served in the U.S. foreign service between 1955 and 1993 as ambassador and career ambassador, consular officer, assistant secretary of state for Africa and as special assistant to the president and senior director for Africa at the U.S. National Security Council.