As a veteran it’s easy for me to say that I have some racial prejudices against Arabs. At least I’m upfront about it, and don’t waste time hiding from it.

I’ve got love for their freedom fighters though. I guess spending a little time living in Iraq and seeing what a war-torn, third world country looks like gave me some insights into why they do what they do.

It’s a strange kind of love though, that makes most civilians very comfortable. A kind of paradoxical love that allows me to smile when our boys bring the noise into their towns, and understand when some of ours expire in the sand, gasping from a sucking chest wound, while they stare at a foreign sky.

So when I read about how France is cracking down on Muslim traditions, I got angry. When I read the Washington Post reporting that, “The French government decided Wednesday to impose a $185 fine on women who wear a full-face Islamic veil in public,” my blood boiled.

Especially when in the same article, it is further reported that, “Muslims here have complained that they feel singled out for a practice that, according to an Interior Ministry estimate, concerns fewer than 2,000 women in a country of 64 million inhabitants.” And when the reasons Muslims traditions are being singled out is the government wanting to “uphold traditional European values,” my head almost exploded.

The bottom line is that people are people to me and — Muslim or not — they have the right to wear what they want, act as they please and be autonomous individuals. My allegiance to liberty far outweighs my racial prejudices.

The French are lying to themselves if they think what they are doing isn’t motivated by racial hate. It’s easy to use florid words to disguise something ugly and malicious. A good historical example would be:

“What we must fight for is to safeguard the existence and reproduction of our race and our people, the sustenance of our children and the purity of our blood, the freedom and independence of the fatherland, so that our people may mature for the fulfillment of the mission allotted it by the creator of the universe.”

Welcome to nationalism at its finest; Hitler’s “Mein Kampf,” the epitome of nationalism in its purest form. Nativism, pride, and national welfare all wrapped up in a package with a synopsis that reads well: strengthen the country, its traditions, emphasize its people — well, the people who are ruling — some people are going to get left out in the cold.

That’s just an unfortunate side effect to all of the bonding the majority is doing when nationalism is first introduced. The introduction of these seemingly grand ideals that will supposedly solve problems creates energy. People get excited, and want results.

Most positive results take some time to build up, because creation takes time, but destruction is instantaneous. Like a crackhead’s nervous energy, this vibrant energy needs an outlet, and the minorities are always a good target.

I should be praising this decision by France. I should be thumping a pulpit and talking about how militant Islam is a threat to our way of life on this side of the pond, as was made clear by  9/11. I just can’t bring myself to do it though.

We need to move past 9/11. As a people we need to let it heal, to stop using it as some trump card to fall back on when it’s time to hate Arabs or be xenophobic in general.

It’s time to broaden our world views by kilometers. It’s time for us to take steps forward, not to understanding Islam, but to understanding ourselves, because we are them. They are no different than us.

I love them, hate them, understand them, celebrate our victories over them and don’t begrudge them their victories over us.

It’s almost like my experience with Muslims isn’t completely from watching TV and movies. That may be I have some real world experience with them, and like any complex relationship, its a little tough for people on the outside looking in to understand.

One of the questions I was often asked while I was patrolling the little section of Iraq my tour allowed me to visit was, “Where are the musalaheen?” Musalaheen [moos-a-la-heen] means gunslingers in Arabic, or my pronunciation was at least close enough that everyone understood what I was asking.

I once asked a child, this child of at most 6, where the musalaheen were. I towered over him in my gear: body armor, helmet, weapon, 180 rounds for my M-16, around 48 for my 9mm, with my rifle resting in the crook of my arm jutting upward toward the sky.

The child looked at me, and raised a pointed finger, not of accusation, but of innocent understanding. “Musalaheen,” he said, answering my question and labeling me the very thing I was seeking. My face went blank and the child ran away as I stared at the horizon, thunderstruck. That’s how a child started the cascade of thought that would forever change my world view.

We need to accept people for who they are. If not just to do the right thing, then because soon enough that small worldview that the majority has edges you out of the picture. It won’t be long until society decides outspoken, liberty-loving, tattooed guys with military backgrounds like yours truly need to take a walk.

Hopefully there are people enough to stand up for me when I need it, and hopefully for you as well, when it’s decided you are the problem.