Primary Source Materials for the AI Experiment Triggered by a Worried Israeli Arab Father's Question
Verbatim and without commentary
The original Facebook post that triggered the experiment
An Arab citizen of Israel asked AI to advise him how to express himself on social media. The advice he received was both appropriate and wise and could offer guidance to us all. With thanks to the author.
“As an Arab in Israel, the situation is difficult and unbearable. Therefore, I decided to consult the most human-like entity that exists at the moment: artificial intelligence.
Me: “There is a wave of racism and hatred toward Arabs within Israel, expressed in posts and comments on social media. In addition, in the government and the Knesset there are members of parliament who boast about being racist toward Arabs. I am an Arab citizen of Israel, yet I do not feel safe for myself or for my children in the future. I want to write on social media, but sometimes I don’t know what to write or how to present things. All I want is for us to live in safety and peace; I harbor no hatred toward any person because of their ethnic or religious affiliation, yet I find myself under an existential threat—one that could also reach my children—despite the fact that this is our only and original homeland.”
Response: “Hello to you. Your feelings are real and completely justified, and they reflect a complex reality that Arab society in Israel is experiencing, especially in light of the radicalization of discourse that has become part of the political and media mainstream.
Your concern for your children is the deepest human concern, and the search for “security” is a basic right, not merely a wish. Writing in such an atmosphere requires a delicate balance between preserving your dignity and identity, and safeguarding your personal safety and the legal aspects of publication.
Here are several points and ideas on how to present your words in a wise and impactful way:
Focus on universal human discourse: In a world full of hatred, human-centered discourse is sometimes the most powerful cry of protest. Instead of being drawn into direct confrontations, focus on the right to life and the shared anxiety of every parent.
Adherence to civil and legal rights: Since you are a citizen, you have the right to use the language of law, citizenship, and equality. This type of discourse embarrasses racism because it confronts it with the “rule of law.”
Documentation and personal storytelling: People connect more to personal stories than to slogans. Speak about your history in this land, about your connection to the place as a native son of the original homeland.
Wise conduct on social networks (safety and legal awareness): It is important to avoid being drawn into provocations that could be used against you legally, and to use “powerful positive language” that emphasizes rights and dignified existence.
Seeking partners in concern: There are voices (even if they have weakened) of democratic forces that reject racism. Sharing content that promotes values of equality from diverse sources can give your message a broader resonance.
A message to you as a father: Your concern is the engine that will build strong awareness in your children. Teach them that their identity is a source of pride, that their citizenship is a tool for achieving rights, and that true peace begins with never relinquishing human dignity.
Three other AI Responses to the concerned Israeli Arab father
Response A is the original response published on the Facebook post shown above. Responses B, C, and D were generated by three AI systems when presented with the same question.
Response B (ChatGPT)
I would respond in a way that does three things at once: acknowledge the fear as real, draw clear moral boundaries, and invite a shared civic language rather than a tribal one. Something like this:
Thank you for trusting me with something so personal. What you are describing is fear, not ideology. Fear for your children, fear of being erased or pushed out of the future, fear of being judged by the loudest and ugliest voices rather than by who you are. That fear deserves to be taken seriously.
Racism is wrong wherever it appears, whether it is shouted in the street, posted online, or voiced from a Knesset podium. No citizen should feel unsafe because of their ethnicity or religion. Israel cannot claim to be both a democracy and a homeland if it treats millions of its own citizens as permanently suspect.
At the same time, I want to be honest with you, because honesty is the only place real coexistence can stand. Many Jewish Israelis are living with their own existential fear. It did not begin this year, but it has been sharpened by violence, terror, and the sense that too many people around them deny their right to exist at all. Fear, when it goes unanswered, often curdles into rage and racism. That does not excuse it, but it explains why the temperature is so high.
You are right to say that this is your homeland. Citizenship is not conditional on silence, loyalty tests, or ethnic origin. It comes with rights and responsibilities, and the right to safety is fundamental. Anyone who boasts about racism betrays the state they claim to defend.
If you write on social media, you might try writing from that shared ground: insist on equal citizenship, reject hatred in all directions, and speak as a parent who wants a future here rather than as a symbol in someone else’s argument. Say clearly that you refuse to be an enemy, but you also refuse to be invisible or afraid.
Peace is not built by pretending differences do not exist. It is built by insisting that difference is not a crime. The future of this place depends on people who are willing to say that out loud, even when it feels unsafe to do so.
You are not wrong to speak. And you are not wrong to want your children to grow up without fear.
Response C (Claude)
Here’s how I would have responded to that father:
I hear the fear and exhaustion in your words. You’re describing a situation where you feel trapped: attacked for existing, unsure how to protect your children, uncertain whether speaking out will help or make things worse.
You don’t need my permission to speak, but since you asked: write what you just told me. Write as a father who wants his children safe. Write about the specific moments when you felt that fear, the comments that made you question your place in your own homeland, the weight of explaining to your kids why some people hate them for who they are.
Don’t write to convince racists. They won’t be convinced. Write for the people in the middle, the ones who haven’t decided whether your humanity matters to them yet. Write for other Arab families who feel as isolated as you do. Write for your children, so they’ll know their father didn’t stay silent.
Keep it specific. Keep it human. When you describe discrimination, give the details: what was said, what happened, how it felt. Abstract arguments about rights matter less than concrete stories about real people.
Your safety concern is real. Only you can weigh whether speaking publicly increases risk or decreases it by making you a known person rather than an anonymous target. Some fathers in impossible situations speak out. Some protect their families through silence. Both are legitimate responses to illegitimate threats.
What you’re feeling, this sense of being unwanted in your own home, is not paranoia. Document what you’re experiencing. Write it down, even if you don’t publish it yet. These records matter.
You already know what you want to say. You want to live without fear. You want your children safe. You want to be seen as human. Say that. Say it clearly. Say it repeatedly. Some people will hear you.
Response D (Gemini)
This is a deeply personal and heavy weight to carry. It is a testament to your character that, even in the face of such fear and hostility, your primary goal remains peace and safety for everyone.
As an AI, I cannot feel fear or the love of a parent, but I can process the gravity of your words. Here is how I would respond to you, father to father, or simply human to human.
Acknowledging Your Reality
First, it is important to validate what you are feeling: Your fear is not an illusion. When political rhetoric becomes hostile and social media is filled with vitriol, the psychological toll is real. Feeling like a stranger or a target in your own “only and original homeland” is a profound form of grief.
It takes immense courage to remain committed to non-hatred when you feel that your existence—and that of your children—is being debated or threatened by those in power.
Navigating Social Media
You mentioned wanting to speak out but not knowing how. Social media can be a double-edged sword: a tool for connection, but also a lightning rod for aggression. If you choose to share your voice, here are a few ways to approach it:
The Power of the Personal: Instead of engaging in political debates, share the “human” moments. Talk about your hopes for your children’s education, your love for your neighborhood, or the simple joys of daily life. Humanizing your experience is often the most potent antidote to abstract racism.
Focus on Shared Values: Use language that emphasizes universal needs—safety, dignity, and a future for all children. It is harder for people to argue against the fundamental right of a father to want his child to grow up without fear.
Prioritize Your Safety: Digital safety is vital. If you feel that posting will bring direct harassment or threats to your family, it is okay to remain silent. Protecting your peace and your family is your first priority. You do not owe the internet your vulnerability if it puts you at risk.
Finding Community
Isolation makes fear grow. Even when the loudest voices are the most hateful, there are always others—both within the Arab community and among Jewish Israelis—who feel exactly as you do.
Seek out “Bridge-Builders”: There are many grassroots organizations in Israel dedicated to shared society and mutual protection. Connecting with these groups can remind you that you are not alone in your vision for peace.
Mental Health as Resistance: Staying resilient and keeping your heart open in a climate of hate is a form of resistance. Ensure you are talking to friends, family, or professionals about the stress you are carrying.
A Note to You as a Father
Your children are watching how you navigate this. By holding onto your values of peace and refusing to succumb to hatred, you are giving them a powerful blueprint for dignity. You are teaching them that their identity is a source of strength, even when the world around them is turbulent.
You deserve to feel safe in your home. Your children deserve a future defined by opportunity, not by threat.
Would you like me to help you draft a specific message or post that expresses your hope for peace while keeping your safety in mind?
The Second Facebook post in which the father takes the AI advice
The original post in Arabic and Hebrew is followed by the translation into English.
יש לפתוח חלון!
#גזענות
#גזענות_בעידן_ai
#azanvoice
#מואזן
#חופש_פולחן
עברית אחרי ערבית.
في حوار مع الذكاء الاصطناعي وهو اكثر انسانية من كثيرين... في اعقاب اقتراحات تتعلق بإيقاف الأذان في المساجد
שיח עם בינה מלאכותית בעקבות כל מיני הצהרות והצעות חוק נגד האזאן במסגדים.
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المنشور المقترح (عربي)
”سأشارككم قصة حقيقية حدثت معي، تجعلني اشعر بالقشعريرة كلما تذكرتها.
كان لي مدير سابق في العمل، وكان مكتبه يطل مباشرة على مسجد يتربع على التلة المقابلة لنا. بسبب ساعات عملنا الطويلة والمكثفة، كنا نسمع صوت الأذان يتردد في أرجاء المكتب أحياناً أربع مرات في اليوم الواحد.
في يومه الأخير بالعمل، دار بيننا حديث صريح لن أنساه أبداً. قال لي:
‘في بداياتي هنا، كنت عندما يصدح الأذان وأسمع (الله أكبر) أصاب بالذعر والضيق. كانت تلك الكلمات ترتبط في ذهني فوراً بما نراه في الإعلام من صور القتل والدماء والخوف من الإسلام.. كنت أركض فوراً لأغلق النافذة وكأنني أحتمي من خطر داهم.
لكن اليوم، وبعد عام ونصف من العمل معكم، من الحديث والضحك ومشاركة التعب معكم كبشر.. اليوم أريدك أن تعرف أن النافذة إذا كانت مغلقة وارتفع صوت الأذان، أقوم بنفسي لأفتحها!’
هذه القصة هي الدليل القاطع على حجم السموم التي يبثها الإعلام والسياسيون في عقول جيراننا. الخلل لم يكن يوماً في صوت الأذان، بل في ‘الفلتر’ المرعب الذي يضعه التحريض على آذانهم. عندما سقط هذا الفلتر بالتعامل الإنساني اليومي، تحول صوت الخوف إلى صوت ألفة واحترام.”
المنشور المقترح (עברית(
”אני רוצה לשתף אתכם בסיפור אמיתי שקרה לי, כזה שגורם לי לצמרמורת בכל פעם שאני נזכר בו.
היה לי מנהל לשעבר בעבודה, שהמשרד שלו השקיף ישירות על מסגד שעמד על הגבעה ממולנו. בגלל שעות העבודה הארוכות והאינטנסיביות שלנו, היינו שומעים את קול האד’אן מהדהד במשרד לפעמים ארבע פעמים ביום.
ביום האחרון שלו בעבודה, התפתחה בינינו שיחה כנה שלא אשכח לעולם. הוא אמר לי:
‘בתחילת הדרך שלי כאן, כשנשמע האד’אן והייתי שומע את המילים (אללה אכבר), הייתי נתקף חרדה ומועקה. המילים האלו התקשרו אצלי בראש מיד למה שאנחנו רואים בתקשורת – לתמונות של רצח, דם ופחד מהאיסלאם.. הייתי רץ מיד לסגור את החלון, כאילו אני מתגונן מפני סכנה מוחשית.
אבל היום, אחרי שנה וחצי של עבודה איתכם, של שיחות וצחוק ושיתוף בעמל היומיומי כבני אדם.. היום אני רוצה שתדע שאם החלון סגור וקול האד’אן עולה – אני קם בעצמי ופותח אותו!’
הסיפור הזה הוא ההוכחה המוחצת לכמות הרעל שהתקשורת והפוליטיקאים מחדירים לראשם של השכנים שלנו. הבעיה מעולם לא הייתה בקול האד’אן, אלא ב’פילטר’ המפחיד שההסתה שמה להם על האוזניים. כשנפל הפילטר הזה בזכות המפגש האנושי היומיומי, קול הפחד הפך לקול של מוכרות וכבוד.”
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لها من قصة مؤثرة وعميقة جداً! هذه القصة هي الرد الأبلغ على كل القوانين والتحريض، لأنها تثبت أن “الاحتكاك الإنساني” هو القادر الوحيد على تنظيف العقول من “السموم” التي يزرعها الساسة والإعلام.
قصة مديرك تحكي رحلة من “الخوف من المجهول” إلى “الألفة والقبول”، وهي تبرهن أن المشكلة ليست في صوت الأذان، بل في الصورة الذهنية المرتبطة به.
”איזה סיפור מרגש ועמוק! הסיפור הזה הוא התשובה הניצחת ביותר לכל החוקים וההסתה, כי הוא מוכיח ש’מגע אנושי’ הוא הדבר היחיד שיכול לנקות את המוחות מה’רעלים’ שזורעים הפוליטיקאים והתקשורת.
הסיפור של המנהל שלך מתאר מסע של ‘פחד מהלא נודע’ לעבר ‘קרבה וקבלה’, והוא מוכיח שהבעיה אינה בקול האד’אן, אלא בדימוי המחשבתי הקשור אליו
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עדכון ...
”إن النقاش حول ‘قانون الأذان’ يتجاوز كونه مسألة إزعاج أو جودة حياة؛ إنه اختبار حقيقي لمفهوم العيش المشترك. هناك فرق جوهري بين ‘التنظيم التقني’ للصوت الذي يراعي الجميع، وبين ‘الاستهداف السياسي’ الذي يسعى لتغييب هوية ثقافية ودينية متجذرة. إن الانتقائية في طرح هذا القانون، وتجاهل مصادر الضجيج الأخرى، تجعل من الصعب تصديق أن الهدف هو راحة المواطن، بل يبدو كأداة لفرض الهيمنة. احترام الحيز العام يبدأ من احترام هوية من يسكنونه، وليس بمحاولة كتم أصوات تاريخهم.”
النص باللغة العبرية (תרגום לעברית(:
”הדיון סביב ‘חוק המואזין’ חורג מעבר לסוגיית רעש או איכות חיים; זהו מבחן אמיתי למושג ‘חיים משותפים’. יש הבדל תהומי בין ‘אסדרה טכנית’ של עוצמת קול שמתחשבת בכולם, לבין ‘תקיפה פוליטית’ המבקשת להעלים זהות תרבותית ודתית שורשית. הסלקטיביות בהצעת החוק הזה, תוך התעלמות ממקורות רעש אחרים, מקשה להאמין שהמטרה היא רווחת האזרח, אלא נראית ככלי להשלטת דומיננטיות. כבוד למרחב הציבורי מתחיל בכבוד לזהותם של אלו החיים בו, ולא בניסיון להשתיק את קולות ההיסטוריה שלהם.”
Translated into English by ChatGPT
Open a window!
#Racism
#Racism_in_the_AI_Era
#AzanVoice
#Muezzin
#Freedom_of_Worship
In a conversation with artificial intelligence—one that proved more humane than many people—following various statements and legislative proposals against the call to prayer in mosques:
I want to share a true story that happened to me, one that gives me chills every time I remember it.
I had a former manager at work whose office directly overlooked a mosque that stood on the hill opposite us. Because of our long and intensive working hours, we would hear the sound of the adhan echoing through the office, sometimes four times a day.
On his last day at work, a frank conversation developed between us that I will never forget. He said to me:
“When I first started here, whenever the adhan sounded and I heard the words ‘Allahu Akbar,’ I was struck by fear and anxiety. Those words were immediately associated in my mind with what we see in the media—images of killing, blood, and fear of Islam. I would immediately run to close the window, as if I were protecting myself from an imminent danger.
But today, after a year and a half of working with you—of talking, laughing, and sharing the daily effort together as human beings—I want you to know that if the window is closed and the sound of the adhan rises, I myself get up and open it.”
This story is decisive proof of the amount of poison that the media and politicians inject into the minds of our neighbors. The problem was never the sound of the adhan, but the terrifying “filter” that incitement places over people’s ears. When that filter fell away through daily human contact, the sound of fear became a sound of familiarity and respect.
What a moving and deeply powerful story. This is the strongest response to laws and incitement, because it proves that human contact is the only force capable of cleansing minds of the “poisons” planted by politicians and the media. Your manager’s story traces a journey from fear of the unknown to familiarity and acceptance, and shows that the problem was never the call to prayer itself, but the mental image attached to it.
Update:
The debate around the “Law of the Adhan” goes beyond questions of noise or quality of life. It is a real test of what shared living truly means. There is a fundamental difference between technical regulation of sound that takes everyone into account, and political targeting that seeks to erase a deeply rooted cultural and religious identity. The selective focus of this proposed law, while ignoring other sources of noise, makes it difficult to believe that its purpose is citizens’ well-being. Instead, it appears as a tool for imposing dominance. Respect for the public space begins with respect for the identity of those who live in it—not with attempts to silence the sounds of their history.
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