The Blogs: Anti-Zionism Is Antisemitism: A Diaspora Fight

For generations, the Jewish people have understood one simple truth: without the right to self-determination, Jewish existence is always fragile. Today, that truth is being tested again not only through classic antisemitism but through its modern and more socially acceptable rebranding: anti-Zionism.

I understand this not only as a political reality, but as a personal one. I grew up Jewish and religious in New York City and later moved to Israel. At no point were my Jewish identity and my Israeli identity separate. They were intertwined, culturally, historically, emotionally. Being Jewish meant caring about Israel, even when questioning its policies, just as being Israeli meant carrying Jewish history with me.

I know others whose experience looks different. I have friends who vote more liberally in American elections than they do in Israeli ones, sometimes even supporting candidates in the U.S. whose views might not align with Israel’s best interests. Their American identity and Israeli identity are distinct, and that is their right. Yet even they maintain a deep affinity for the Jewish state. The difference is not about politics; it is about whether Jewish identity is seen as detachable from Jewish sovereignty.

In my own family, that connection was never abstract. My parents are immigrants, my father was born in Poland, my mother in the United Kingdom. If and when they voted in diaspora elections, their Jewish identity and their commitment to Israel were always present. It shaped how they understood politics, security, and belonging. That inheritance made it impossible for me to see Israel as “just another country.” It was, and remains, the collective safeguard of a people who learned, repeatedly, what happens when self-determination is denied.

Zionism, at its core, is nothing more and nothing less than the belief that the Jewish people, like any other nation, have the right to self-determination in their ancestral homeland. To deny that right uniquely to Jews is not a neutral political position. It is discrimination. It is antisemitism.

Across the diaspora, particularly in Western democracies such as Australia, we are witnessing a disturbing trend. Anti-Israel rhetoric is increasingly detached from policy criticism and instead targets Israel’s very legitimacy. Public figures, academics, and activists, some invoking the language of social justice, frame Zionism as colonialism and Jewish nationhood as immoral. The rise of voices like NYC Mayor elect Zohran Mamdani in academic and activist spaces reflects a broader phenomenon: Jews are being told that their collective identity is acceptable only if it abandons sovereignty, power, and self-defense.

This is not accidental. Jewish heritage and Jewish identity are deeply tethered to the State of Israel. Judaism is not only a religion; it is a peoplehood, a history, a culture, and a civilization rooted in a specific land. To pretend that Jewish identity can be neatly separated from Israel is to misunderstand Judaism itself. When Israel is demonized, Jews everywhere feel the consequences, on campuses, in workplaces, and on the streets. Synagogues require security not because of Israeli policies, but because hatred of Israel so often mutates into hatred of Jews.

Growing up in New York, I was fortunate to experience a Jewish life largely untouched by antisemitism. It is painful to say that this is no longer the case. Today, fewer Jews can claim that same sense of safety. The normalization of anti-Zionist rhetoric has coincided with a sharp rise in hostility toward Jews, a reality that should alarm anyone who insists the two are unrelated.

That is why the claim that one can “hate Israel but not Jews” collapses under scrutiny. When Israel is singled out as uniquely illegitimate among the nations of the world, when Jewish self-determination is portrayed as inherently racist, and when Jewish historical ties to the land are denied, the target is not a government, it is a people. If you hate Jews, you will almost certainly hate Israel. And increasingly, if you hate Israel in absolute terms, you are expressing hostility toward Jews as a collective.

This moment also demands honesty within the Jewish community itself. Jews who feel no affinity with the State of Israel should be encouraged to engage in an identity check, not as a test of loyalty, but as a moment of reflection. Detachment from Israel does not make one morally superior; it often reflects a privilege afforded by living safely under other nations’ protection. Jewish history teaches us the cost of relying on others for safety. Israel exists because Jewish vulnerability is not theoretical, it is historical fact.

Ensuring the longevity and endurance of both the Jewish people and the State of Israel requires clarity and courage. Diaspora Jews must resist the pressure to fragment their identity to appease hostile ideological movements. They must articulate, confidently and unapologetically, that Jewish self-determination is a moral right, not an obstacle to justice.

Anti-Zionism is not a new debate; it is an old hatred in new language. Recognizing that truth is the first step toward confronting it, preserving Jewish continuity, and safeguarding the future of Israel as the collective home of the Jewish people.