The Convenient Fiction
The critics of Israel insist they do not hate Israel or the Jewish people; they merely oppose the policies of the current Israeli government. If that claim were consistently true, their outrage would be directed exclusively at Israeli political leaders, government ministries, military decision-makers, and the policies they believe are objectionable. Political disagreement is a normal feature of every democracy, including Israel’s own vibrant and often contentious political system.
Yet that is not what we increasingly witness.
Instead, anger over Israel frequently spills far beyond the borders of the Jewish state and lands squarely on Jews who have no influence whatsoever over Israeli policy. The line separating criticism of the Israeli government from hostility toward the entire Jewish people is crossed with disturbing regularity.
What needs to be answered is why are synagogues vandalized and Jewish community centers threatened? Why are Jewish-owned businesses boycotted, defaced, or attacked? Why are Jewish cemeteries desecrated? Why are visibly Jewish men and women assaulted on city streets thousands of miles from Jerusalem simply because they wear a kippah, a Star of David, or other symbols of their faith? Why are Jewish students on college campuses harassed, intimidated, excluded from student organizations, and pressured to publicly denounce Israel to be accepted by their peers?
None of these individuals serves in the Israeli government. None sits in the Knesset. None commands the Israel Defense Forces. None determines Israeli military strategy or foreign policy. Most are not even Israeli citizens. Some have never visited Israel.
Yet they are treated as collectively guilty for the actions of a government in which they have no vote and over which they exercise no authority.
This is not political protest. It is collective blame based solely on Jewish identity.
No other ethnic or religious community is routinely held responsible for the actions of a nation-state in quite this way. Americans are not attacked because of disagreements with Washington’s foreign policy. Chinese-Americans are not presumed responsible for decisions made in Beijing. Iranian-Americans are not held personally accountable for the actions of the regime in Tehran. Yet many who insist they oppose only “Israel’s policies” somehow find it acceptable to direct their anger toward Jews everywhere.
That double standard deserves condemnation.
Criticism of any government’s policies is entirely legitimate. Israel is no exception. Israelis themselves vigorously criticize their governments, vote governments out of office, protest judicial reforms, military decisions, economic policy, and every aspect of public life. Such debate is one of the defining characteristics of a democratic society.
But there are profound moral and intellectual differences between criticizing a government’s actions and treating an entire people as morally culpable because they share the same ethnicity, religion, or historical homeland.
When anti-Israel demonstrations feature chants calling for the elimination of the world’s only Jewish state, when Jewish businesses are targeted regardless of their connection to Israel, when Jewish students are asked to prove their political purity before being accepted by classmates, and when synagogues become targets for intimidation, the distinction between anti-Israel activism and antisemitism becomes increasingly difficult to sustain.
Rabbi David Wolpe captured this evolution succinctly:
“Antisemitism was the way the Nazis hated Jews; anti-Zionism was the way the Soviets hated Jews. Neither one is a ‘political’ position.”
Whether one agrees entirely with Rabbi Wolpe’s formulation or not, his observation highlights an uncomfortable reality. Throughout history, antisemitism has repeatedly adapted itself to the language and prejudices of each generation. The justification changes; the target remains the same.
I recently heard a joke that makes the same point as does Rabbi Wolpe. It goes like this: Two Jews walk into a bar, a Zionist and anti-Zionist, they both order a drink, to which the bartender declared, “sorry we don’t serve Jews here.”
If today’s grievance is genuinely limited to the policies of a particular Israeli cabinet or prime minister, then the protests should remain focused on those policymakers. They should not spill over into attacks on Jewish schools, synagogues, cultural institutions, charities, businesses, or individuals whose only connection to the conflict is that they happen to be Jewish.
When synagogues require armed guards, Jewish children attend schools protected by security barriers, students conceal symbols of their faith out of fear, and Jewish institutions become targets simply because they are Jewish, an unavoidable question presents itself:
Is the target truly the policies of the Israeli government—or has the target always been the Jewish people themselves?
