The Physics of Antisemitism

In the aftermath of October 7th, something eerie unfolded—not just in the brutality of that day, but in how the world responded. The victims of a barbaric atrocity were almost instantly reframed as villains, while their attackers were recast as victims. The moral compass didn’t merely wobble—it flipped. This wasn’t the first time we’ve seen such inversion. Throughout history, the Jewish people have been portrayed as oppressors while being oppressed, as elites while being exiled, as puppet masters while being persecuted, and now, genocidal while being targeted for genocide.

How can this be? Why does this twisted pattern persist across vastly different civilizations, eras, and ideologies? Sociologists, historians, and political theorists have offered many explanations—but none account for the eerie consistency, the way antisemitism seems to obey its own gravitational pull. What if that’s exactly what it is? Not a social glitch, but something closer to a natural law?

Believe it or not, physics might offer a better answer.

In my treatise The OHR Axiom, I propose that contrast—difference, distinction, separation—is not just a poetic metaphor or a social quirk. It is the very mechanism that drives all existence. In physics, this is known as an energy differential: an ordered imbalance that allows anything to happen. Without difference, nothing moves. Without motion, nothing changes. And without change, there can be no meaning.

This idea isn’t speculative. It is embedded in the Second Law of Thermodynamics, which tells us that the universe moves in only one direction: from order toward disorder—from contrast toward sameness. This is why ice melts in a warm room but never refreezes. It’s why things fall apart over time instead of spontaneously reassembling.

In Hebrew, I’ve given names to these two opposing properties. OHR (light) is the concentrated, structured, creative property that allows complexity and meaning to exist. CHOSHECH (darkness) is the entropic agent responsible for the breakdown of contrast and the drift toward sameness, chaos, and decay. These are not poetic symbols—they are universal properties of reality. Every interaction in the physical world—from the mixing of gases to the collapse of stars—depends on the dynamic between OHR and CHOSHECH.

Now here’s the leap—but it’s not a large one. Cultures, like systems, can generate contrast. Some traditions and moral systems create structured difference—they stand out, challenge norms, and push against entropy. And no civilization in human history has been a more sustained and visible source of this kind of social OHR than the Jewish people.

This is not an accident. Judaism was meticulously constructed to generate contrast. Every commandment and ritual serves this purpose: circumcision alters anatomy, kashrut alters diet, tzitzit alters dress, mezuzah alters space, and Shabbat alters time. Even more profoundly, Judaism demands a life of ethical contrast—a conscious commitment to preserving order and meaning in a world constantly drifting toward disorder.

But this kind of OHR draws attention. In physics, a bright light casts a sharp shadow. The same is true in society. The greater the OHR, the more intense the reaction from CHOSHECH. That reaction can be mild—like peer pressure—or it can turn toxic, animating mobs and ideologies that seek to erase difference altogether.

This is how antisemitism arises—not as random hatred, but as the inevitable friction that contrast provokes. Jewish OHR tends to manifest in three ways: through behavioral distinctiveness, defiance of prevailing norms, and disproportionate success born from a culture of learning and ethical rigor. And so antisemitism tends to manifest in three corresponding ways: fear of that difference, resentment of that defiance, and envy of that success. This is why antisemitism is unique. Most bigotry involves a majority projecting inferiority onto a minority. Antisemitism is different: it stems from a majority’s fear of a minority’s strength—real or imagined. It is not hatred from above, but paranoia from below. In this sense, antisemitism is not merely social; it is thermodynamic. OHR invites CHOSHECH.

But this does not mean surrender. Entropy is what makes change possible. It is the necessary ingredient to make our universe vibrant. Illness, just one manifestation of entropy, is inevitable too, but we fight it—not to eliminate it from existence, but to hold it at bay, to live, to thrive. Likewise, the Jewish mission is not to erase CHOSHECH, but to resist it at every turn. To build contrast. To protect meaning. To preserve the structures that give life moral direction.

Ironically, it is when Jews abandon their contrast—when they try to assimilate, disappear, or blend in—that antisemitism tends to worsen. In Spain, it was particularly the converted Jews who were persecuted during the Inquisition. In Germany, the ideal of “Be a Jew at home and a man in the street” culminated not in acceptance but in genocide.

This paradox has reached its most painful expression in our time, highlighting two synergistic crises: the normalization of antisemitism in mainstream politics, and the shocking embrace of it by Jews themselves. The violent surge of antisemitism after October 7th provided the fertile ground for the nomination of Zohran Mamdani to be mayor of New York City. This is a candidate who has proudly aligned himself with the most virulent anti-Israel voices, celebrating those who praise terror against Jews. His potential rise represents a chilling new mainstream acceptance of our oldest hatred.

Yet the most tragic part of this story is not Mamdani himself, but the substantial number of Jews who enthusiastically support him. This phenomenon—Jewish self-hatred—is the ultimate triumph of CHOSHECH. As I argue in my treatise, it occurs when a Jew, worn down by constant external pressure, accepts the antisemite’s premise and seeks to erase their own distinctiveness to “fit in.” It is a surrender to sameness, a misguided belief that if they can just prove they are not like those other Jews—the Zionists, the religious, the proud—they will be spared the friction.

But history proves this is a fatal miscalculation. The global explosion of antisemitism did not ignite with Israel’s powerful response in Gaza; it ignited on October 7th, the moment Israel’s security collapsed and its OHR appeared vulnerable. Contrast that with the aftermath of the 1967 Six-Day War, when bold, unapologetic Jewish strength led to admiration and awe. Why? Because CHOSHECH does not recoil from Jewish success—it recoils from the absence of defense around that success. It metastasizes not in the presence of OHR, but in the presence of a weak defense of that OHR. Jewish support for an enemy is the ultimate weak defense.

The answer, then, is not to dim the light but to defend it. Proud Jewish identity is not just a heritage—it is a moral act, a metaphysical stance, a resistance to the pull of sameness and decay. It is a declaration that contrast is not the cause of conflict but the source of all creativity. To be Jewish is to be OHR—to carry the responsibility of generating and guarding the contrast that gives the universe its structure, its beauty, its vibrancy, and its meaning.

This post has focused on just one implication of the OHR Axiom: the nature of antisemitism. But the full theory goes much deeper—into ethics, consciousness, life, and the essence of meaning. It also unravels the mystery of the enigmatic Jewish identity—and reframes our role in the universe itself.

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Read the full treatise, The OHR Axiom, for free at Substack: https://zviosterweil.substack.com/p/the-ohr-axiom