Israel, Hamas, and the Politics of Memory

In his latest book, Israel: What Went Wrong, historian Omer Bartov argues that Israeli leaders have exaggerated existential dangers through the lens of Holocaust memory. Yet in seeking to challenge Israel’s narrative, Bartov risks downplaying the ideological hostility and security threats posed by Hamas, Hezbollah, and Iran—raising questions about whether political activism has overtaken scholarly balance.

Few lessons are more deeply embedded in Israel’s national consciousness than the belief that declared threats should be taken seriously. For many Israelis, the massacre carried out by Hamas on October 7, 2023, reinforced that conviction in the most devastating way imaginable. The attack was not merely another episode in a long-running conflict; it was a reminder that organizations openly committed to Israel’s destruction possess both the intent and the capability to inflict mass violence.

It is against this backdrop that Omer Bartov’s new book, Israel: What Went Wrong, enters an already polarized debate. Bartov, a prominent historian of genocide and Holocaust studies at Brown University, argues that Israeli society has increasingly interpreted contemporary threats through the prism of the Holocaust. In his view, this tendency has distorted Israeli politics and helped justify policies that have caused immense suffering in Gaza.

The book arrives with significant intellectual authority behind it. Bartov is both an accomplished scholar and a former officer in the Israel Defense Forces. His critiques therefore carry weight not only among Israel’s opponents but also among observers seeking a deeper understanding of the country’s political trajectory.

Yet the central weakness of Bartov’s argument lies in its treatment of the threats Israel faces. While he acknowledges the brutality of Hamas’s October 7 attack, his broader analysis tends to frame Israeli security concerns as exaggerated, instrumentalized, or filtered through historical trauma. In doing so, he risks underestimating the ideological and military realities confronting Israel.

This tension is particularly striking given Bartov’s own earlier assessments. Writing in 2004, he described Hamas’s founding charter as containing some of the most explicit antisemitic language seen in a major political document since the Second World War. The organization’s stated objective was not merely opposition to Israeli government policies but the elimination of the Jewish state itself.

Although Hamas later issued a revised political document in 2017, it never formally revoked its original charter. Moreover, numerous Hamas leaders have continued to endorse armed struggle against Israel and have celebrated attacks on civilians. The events of October 2023 demonstrated that such rhetoric cannot be dismissed as symbolic or rhetorical.

The challenge for analysts of the conflict is therefore not whether historical memory influences Israeli thinking—it clearly does—but whether that influence invalidates contemporary security concerns. The existence of hostile actors committed to Israel’s destruction is not a matter of historical interpretation. Hamas, Hezbollah, and the Iranian regime have repeatedly articulated objectives that go far beyond criticism of Israeli policy.

Bartov also argues that antisemitism remains primarily a phenomenon of the political right. While right-wing antisemitism undoubtedly remains a serious threat, the historical record is more complicated. Anti-Jewish hostility has emerged from multiple ideological traditions, including strands of radical left-wing politics that have portrayed Jews as embodiments of capitalism, imperialism, or global power. Contemporary debates over Israel frequently intersect with these older patterns in ways that deserve closer examination than Bartov provides.

The book’s treatment of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu offers another example of this imbalance. Bartov appears sympathetic to claims that Netanyahu’s wartime rhetoric reflected genocidal intent. Critics often cite Netanyahu’s biblical reference to Amalek during the early stages of the Gaza campaign as evidence. Yet such interpretations remain contested. Supporters argue that the reference was directed at Hamas as an enemy organization rather than at Palestinians as a whole, noting that the same speech included references to minimizing civilian harm.

Reasonable observers may disagree about the conduct of Israel’s military campaign or the decisions of its political leadership. Those debates are both legitimate and necessary. But a serious analysis must also account for the strategic environment in which those decisions are made.

That is where Israel: What Went Wrong ultimately falls short. In its effort to challenge what Bartov sees as Israel’s culture of victimhood and historical anxiety, the book often treats genuine threats as secondary considerations. The result is a narrative that scrutinizes Israeli fears far more rigorously than the actors responsible for creating them.

For critics of Israel, this approach may appear refreshing. For readers seeking a balanced assessment of one of the world’s most enduring conflicts, it is likely to feel incomplete. Any attempt to understand Israel’s choices—whether one approves of them or not—must begin with an acknowledgment that the threats facing the country are not merely products of memory, mythology, or political convenience. They are also real.