“Globalize the Intifada” Was Never Just a Metaphor
A couple of days ago, in Australia, fifteen people were murdered on the first night of Hanukkah. As the death count was still rising, friends and colleagues were reaching out with sympathy, checking in on me, horrified by this latest tragedy.
But in their voices, I heard a dangerous misconception. They see this as a tragedy for the Jewish community. They see it as a “Jewish problem” to be mourned by Jews and solved by security guards at synagogues.
They are missing the point. In fact, this mindset has already yielded disastrous results. For the past two years, we have witnessed a disturbing pattern of cancellations. Jewish lectures, cultural events, and gatherings have been quietly shut down by institutions claiming they “cannot guarantee safety” or fearing that a Jewish presence “will cause a riot.”
Let’s follow this logic to its conclusion. If the mere presence of Jews is treated as a provocation that invites violence, the solution inevitably shifts from protection to exclusion. We are establishing a precedent where safety is achieved through invisibility. But history warns us that when a society asks a minority to hide for their own good, we are confusing the victim with the problem. If we reach the point where we sanitize the public sphere of Jewish presence to avoid conflict, we will not be maintaining order; we will be validating the threat.
This violence is not an isolated malfunction; it is a canary in the coal mine for the Western world. Fighting antisemitism isn’t just about protecting Jews. It is about fighting polarization, xenophobia, and the erosion of democracy. When a society tolerates the targeting of a minority group in the streets, the immunity of that democracy is compromised.
We must stop pretending this is coming out of nowhere. There is an undeniable correlation between October 7th—the worst act of violence against Jews since the Holocaust—and this sharp rise in blatant violence we are experiencing.
In a twisted turn of morality, the massacre of Jewish citizens on October 7th didn’t just spark a war; it gave rise to a permission structure. It created a legitimacy not only to question the existence of the Jewish state but to apply a double standard that does not exist for any other nation. We see countries currently engaged in active wars of aggression and countries with consensus human rights violations, yet none are subject to the same feverish questioning of their right to exist.
More importantly, citizens of these nations are not treated as proxies for their governments. An Iranian student in Europe is not attacked in a café because her government executes women for showing their hair. A Chinese tourist is not targeted because their government operates internment camps. Yet here, the “guilt” is cast so wide it covers not just Israeli citizens, but Jews writ large. It assumes a collective responsibility based solely on heritage, erasing the individual in favor of a monolithic enemy.
This double standard has consequences. Words matter. When people shout “Globalize the Intifada” in the streets—including prominent leaders who refused to condemn such slogans—they may tell themselves it is a call for freedom. But those of us who lived through two Intifadas, like I have, know better. We know that “Intifada” is not a metaphor. It is the targeting of civilians in their coffee shops, on their buses, in their universities, and in their places of worship.
This past Sunday in Australia, we saw what “Globalizing the Intifada” looks like. It is time to call it by its name.
We need to talk about accountability. We need to hold two truths at once: We can demand political change in the Middle East—criticizing government policy is legitimate, and I have built a career doing exactly that—but we must unequivocally condemn the terrorizing of families under the guise of activism. This violence does not advance justice. It conflates the Palestinian struggle for self-determination with raw brutality. It fuels Islamophobia by painting violence as a religious duty. And ultimately, it betrays the very values of human rights that progressives claim to uphold.
So, how do we move forward?
In my recent work across Europe and on university campuses in the US, I have observed a dangerous paralysis. We know how to run for physical shelter, but we are ill-equipped to stand our ground in a conversation. We leave the vacuum of the narrative to be filled by those who hate us. It is no longer enough to be resilient; we must be articulate. Whether college students or business executives, we need the agency to define our own identity rather than letting it be defined by our detractors. Because when we remain silent, or when we lack the skills to represent ourselves in the face of distorted narratives, polarization wins.
We need to equip our communities with the agency to speak. But more importantly, the world needs to start listening—not just with sympathy, but with the understanding that this fire, if left unchecked, will burn down far more than just the Jewish community.
Today, we mourn the dead in Australia. But tomorrow, we must wake up to the reality that words have consequences, and ignoring the smoke will not stop the fire.
