The thin line between prejudice and racism

In a world grappling with conflict, migration and cultural misunderstanding, the difference between prejudice and racism may seem academic — but it's not.
These concepts are deeply woven into the fabric of human interaction and understanding them is essential if we are to build fairer, more tolerant societies. This is a personal reflection on how prejudice can emerge from experience and how easily — and dangerously — it can slide into racism.
I have often pondered whether there is a meaningful difference between racism and prejudice.
We all carry certain prejudices — assumptions or expectations based on limited experience. Even though we know that, statistically, in any country — including Oman — most people are polite, honest and kind-hearted, we occasionally meet individuals we don’t get along with or cannot trust.
For me, such experiences in Oman are rare. When I sit next to an Omani on a plane, I expect to be treated with good manners and invariably we get on well. In fact, I would rather sit next to an Omani than, say, a European.
Is that a form of prejudice? Most certainly. Why is this the case? I have met many Europeans — including, of course, my fellow Brits — who are kind, polite and warm-hearted. But I’ve met more Omanis who fall into that category than Europeans.
It’s not rational or logical to judge an entire nation based on the actions of a few unpleasant individuals, but it isn’t always easy to avoid such generalisations.
Let me share another example. In the UK, I used to buy and renovate properties. Over the years, I found that most British tradesmen I employed tried to cheat me in one way or another. By contrast, the tradesmen I hired from Eastern Europe were almost always honest, reliable and capable. So I ended up employing only Eastern European workers.
Yes, I admit that I developed a prejudice against British tradesmen. Interestingly, they were all white — so my bias was not based on the colour of their skin. Both of these prejudices emerged from real but limited experiences — a statistically insignificant number of negative encounters with Europeans and British tradesmen. Yet they shaped my expectations. That’s the insidious thing about prejudice: it’s often not rooted in ideology, but in personal experience. And that makes it harder to recognise and perhaps even harder to admit.
Then we come to the difficult question: is it reasonable to maintain such prejudices? I would argue that, to a degree, it is. There’s an old proverb — ‘Once bitten, twice shy’. If a pattern of behaviour appears to repeat itself, we become wary. Why should I risk another bad experience? That’s how prejudice works. But it’s also why prejudice can so easily lead to racism. This is the slippery slope.
Prejudice is usually based on behaviour — what someone does to you. Racism is based on identity — what someone is and particularly what is the colour of their skin or their ethnicity. And while I don’t believe I am a racist, I recognise how close the line can be.
I am not proud of my prejudices. I see now how even well-intentioned caution can slide into bigotry and racism if left unchallenged. Let us imagine that all my bad experiences had been with people of colour.
For some — especially those with little education or limited exposure to diversity — these experiences could easily evolve into racist attitudes. And in its most extreme forms, racism has led to some of history’s darkest atrocities.
Nazi Germany comes to mind, as does what the Israeli Zionists are doing in Palestine today. That is why I am working hard to root out my own prejudices. It isn’t easy. But I believe we all have a responsibility to examine our assumptions, recognise how prejudice can morph into racism and resist the temptation to generalise. Prejudice can destroy trust. Racism can destroy societies.

The writer is a former Cambridge School Principal and an Interview Skills Advisor