Anti-Zionism, Zionism, and the Need for Clarity

This piece is being written in the aftermath of the October 7th, 2023 attacks on Israel — a traumatic event that left over a thousand Israelis dead and many more injured, with hundreds of hostages taken into Gaza. As of this writing, some of those hostages remain captive. In the months since, Israel’s military response in Gaza has led to immense destruction and loss of life. The humanitarian situation there is catastrophic. Food, medicine, clean water, and safety have become precarious for millions.

Within the Jewish community and far beyond it, a growing unease is taking shape. Many who initially defended Israel’s right to respond are now questioning the scale, length, and justification of the war. Accusations of war crimes maybe be credible and while heavily contested the term genocide is being widely used in this context  — from UN officials, international lawyers, and human rights observers. These are not easy allegations to hear, especially for those still carrying the trauma of October 7th — including many in the Jewish diaspora who saw in that day a chilling reminder of historical vulnerability and targeted violence. But they’re part of the conversation now — as are growing tensions within Jewish and non-Jewish communities worldwide.

This article doesn’t attempt to resolve those tensions, but to make some space to think more clearly within them.

We’re not short of opinions about Zionism and anti-Zionism. But we are short of clarity — and patience.

What might start as disagreement over history or politics quickly becomes a question of loyalty, identity, or morality. That’s not always because people are being dishonest. Often it’s because the subject touches something raw. But if we’re going to talk meaningfully about this, we need to stop reacting so fast and start paying attention to how complicated it actually is.

Zionism Isn’t One Thing

For many Jews, Israel isn’t just another country — it’s a refuge. After the Holocaust, when six million were murdered and countless others found no nation willing to take them in, the idea of Jewish self-determination took on urgent meaning. Zionism became not just a political concept but a survival strategy: the belief that Jews should have the right to live freely and securely in the land of Israel.

But even within that shared belief, Zionism takes many forms — cultural, religious, secular, left, right. Some Zionists advocate coexistence and a two-state solution; others hold territorial or nationalist views. Some criticize the Israeli government while still identifying as Zionist. It’s a broad spectrum — and reducing it to a single idea flattens its meaning.### Nor Is Anti-Zionism

Anti-Zionism is also a wide field. For some, it reflects opposition to the idea of a state rooted in religion or ethnicity. For others, it’s a critique of how Zionism has been implemented — especially its impact on Palestinians. Some Jewish groups reject Zionism on religious grounds. Still others slide into antisemitic tropes or conspiracies.

The motivations vary — from principled commitments to equality to outright hostility. It’s vital to differentiate, and just as vital not to generalize. Not all critics of Zionism are antisemitic. And not all supporters of Zionism back the Israeli government’s policies. These Words Mean Very Different Things — Depending on Who’s Saying Them

One of the central difficulties in this conversation is that terms like Zionist and anti-Zionist don’t mean one thing — and often mean something very different depending on who’s using them and who’s hearing them.

For someone who identifies as pro-Palestinian, being anti-Zionist might simply mean opposition to the current Israeli government, or disapproval of how Israel treats Palestinians under occupation. It can mean supporting Palestinian rights, or opposing a state structure they view as privileging one ethnic group over others. That position might coexist with support for a two-state solution — or for a single democratic state. At the more radical end, it could mean calling for the dismantling of Israel as a Jewish state. And at its most extreme, it can include a belief in — or support for — the violent destruction of Israel altogether.

But those distinctions often get collapsed. Critics of anti-Zionism may assume that anyone using the term wants Israel gone, or worse, that they harbor antisemitic intent. In some cases, that’s accurate — but in many others, it’s not.

The same distortion happens in the other direction. Someone who calls themselves a Zionist might support a peaceful two-state solution and oppose the current war. They may see Zionism simply as the belief that Jews, like any other people, deserve national self-determination — particularly in the aftermath of the Holocaust and centuries of persecution. But on the far-right fringe of Zionism, you’ll find those who advocate permanent occupation, mass expulsion, or annexation of the West Bank and Gaza. That too exists. But when anti-Zionists assume all Zionists support those views, or are apologists for them, dialogue quickly breaks down.

Strawmanning is common on both sides. People imagine their opponents as holding the most extreme possible version of the position they oppose. And this habit — often reinforced by online discourse — keeps people from hearing each other clearly. Worse, it entrenches division and makes it harder to work toward any shared future.

Why It Hits So Hard

These conversations rarely stay calm. Jews and Muslims and their allies — especially those with personal or family history tied to the region — often experience the other side’s words as threatening.

For many Jews, criticism of Zionism taps into a fear that their safety is conditional — that in a crisis, they’d be told to go elsewhere, only to find the doors shut. For many Palestinians and their supporters, Zionism is experienced as the reason for their dispossession and ongoing trauma.

These aren’t just political stances. They’re rooted in survival, memory, and grief. Unless we acknowledge that, the conversation won’t move forward.

The Problem With Online Speed

Social media makes this worse. People react fast and with feeling — often before they’ve understood what the other person meant. The result is a mess: outrage, defensiveness, misreadings, bad faith assumptions.

These emotional responses don’t stay contained. They shape how campaigns are framed, how organizations respond, how policies are written. The loudest voices often end up setting the tone, even if they’re not the most thoughtful.

We need fewer snap reactions and more people willing to sit with discomfort. That’s not about being neutral. It’s about taking responsibility for how we talk to each other.

When Words Do Harm

This matters because rhetoric spills into action. A man in Boulder, Colorado recently attacked a “Run for Their Lives” event, injuring 16 people. He shouted “Free Palestine” and said he was targeting Zionists.

That’s not activism. It’s violence. And it shows what happens when political language becomes a stand-in for blame or dehumanization.

The far right has always posed a serious threat, but the left needs to be cautious too. If we let anger replace analysis, we risk becoming what we claim to oppose.

But Gaza Can’t Be Ignored

None of this means soft-pedalling what’s happening in Gaza. The destruction, the displacement, the civilian deaths — and Israel’s 11-week blockade that prevented food, water, and humanitarian aid from entering the territory — demand a response. Some have described this as a starvation policy. The sidelining of the UN-led aid infrastructure in favor of a private contractor has only deepened concerns about transparency, access, and the ethics of delivering aid under siege.

Political pressure, protest, and organizing are necessary. But if movements lose their ethical footing — or alienate those who might otherwise support their aims — they risk becoming ineffective, or even counterproductive, fueling the polarization they seek to challenge. But the method matters. Movements that lose their ethical grounding end up undermining themselves. Clarity of purpose and care in language aren’t luxuries. They are what allow movements to remain principled and persuasive.

What Might Actually Help

We need people who are prepared to hold tension without rushing to resolve it. Zionists who can criticize Israel without feeling traitorous. Anti-Zionists who can challenge antisemitism without feeling compromised.

We need fewer people performing certainty, and more people doing the work of thinking things through.

We won’t all agree. That’s fine. But we should be able to disagree without cruelty. And we should be more focused on reducing harm than scoring points.

This situation is messy. So is history. So is grief. But that’s not a reason to give up. It’s a reason to do better.