The Blogs: When Hatred Gets Tenure, Murder Feels Justified

Two Israeli embassy workers were gunned down outside the Jewish Museum in Washington, D.C. Eyewitnesses say the killer shouted pro-Palestinian slogans before pulling the trigger.

Before the victims’ names were even released—before their families could be notified—the comment sections came alive with bile.

“You reap what you sow.”

“Hard to feel sympathy.”

“Probably Mossad.”

“Two dead? Gaza sees that every hour.”

“Now Israel will use this to bomb Muslims.”

And this:

Let’s not rush to label this antisemitism, reads this public comment under Channel 4 News’ report on Facebook, accessed on May 22 at 7:00 a.m.—in response to the targeted murder of two Israeli embassy workers outside a Jewish Museum. (Courtesy Levinsky)

Two Israelis murdered outside a Jewish event, and we’re told not to rush to label it antisemitism. The whitewashing started early—and predictably. The blood was still wet, and already the spin machine was in full force.

What do you expect?

This is the result of years—decades—of mainstreaming antisemitism under the guise of social justice. In classrooms, in newsrooms, on stages and podcasts, we’ve taught people that Jewish defense is aggression, that Jewish pain is political, and that Jewish death is complicated.

When the murder of Jews becomes debatable, we’re not in a moral crisis—we’re past it! We didn’t arrive here overnight. Academia, in particular, has played a central role. For generations, it’s been grooming students to view the Jewish state as a foreign colonial project and its people as privileged aggressors. Now, we’re watching that indoctrination bear fruit.

A podcast with Najla Said, where she states that ‘anyone still defending Israel is a sociopath,’ accessed May 22, 2025, at 6:00 a.m. on MEMRI TV. Originally aired April 1, 2025. (Courtesy Levinsky)

Take a recent podcast featuring Najla Said, daughter of the late Edward Said—Columbia University professor and the intellectual architect of modern anti-Zionism. Edward Said spent his life delegitimizing Israel, casting Zionism as colonialism, and claiming falsely to be a Palestinian refugee. In reality, his family lived in privilege in Cairo well before 1948. He attended elite schools in the West. His refugee narrative was not a lived experience, it was a political invention.

He once even threw a rock across the Lebanese-Israeli border, posing for cameras in a manufactured display of rage. This is the legacy Najla carries.

On that podcast, she admitted she once held back from expressing her “real feelings towards Jews and Israel” because she was afraid Jews “might kill her.” Her host agreed, saying she used to avoid comparing Israelis to Nazis—but “not anymore.”

Najla then added how “offended” she feels when people visit Israel. As if tourism itself is a violent act. She “can’t stand when Jewish friends call Israel their home,” insisting, “It’s not their home—they’re from Europe. It’s my home!”

Let that sit for a moment.

This is what passes for progressive commentary in 2025: stripping Jews of indigeneity, erasing thousands of years of history, denying their right to return, and claiming sole ownership of a land Jews have prayed toward, died for, and lived in continuously for millennia.

It’s not just historically illiterate—it’s morally depraved.

Honestly, I can’t believe that anyone Jewish would remain friends with this woman. Because this isn’t a difference of political opinion. This is something far darker: a denial of your identity, your roots, your right to exist where your ancestors have lived for centuries. It’s the casual, smiling version of the same ideology that fuels violence—wrapped in elite vocabulary and social justice language.

When someone tells you that your homeland isn’t yours, that your grief isn’t real, and that defending your people makes you a sociopath—they are not your friend. They are telling you, clearly and unapologetically, that you don’t belong.

Imagine saying that to any other people: that their connection to their ancestral homeland is invalid because you don’t like who they are. And imagine doing it while claiming to speak for justice.

She invoked the memory of seeing Israeli tanks in Lebanon as a child—presenting them not as a response to Hezbollah, not as a function of war, but as monsters meant to frighten her. The message is clear: Jews are inherently threatening, even when defending themselves.

This isn’t trauma. It isn’t analysis. It’s propaganda—passed down like inheritance.

When antisemitism becomes a credential instead of a liability, this is what you get: a generation that hears “two Jews were murdered” and responds with smirks, shrugs, or conspiracy theories.

Israel didn’t start this war. Hamas did—on October 7th, with a massacre so barbaric it defies language. But instead of breaking the narrative, it reinforced it. Instead of horror, we got justifications. Every hostage rescue is called an “escalation.” Every airstrike becomes “genocide.” And now, even Jewish corpses in Washington, D.C., are treated as strategy—not tragedy.

To be Jewish in 2025 is to watch your own death rationalized. It is to carry the knowledge that your grief will be questioned, your mourning politicized, your humanity conditional.

It’s not just that Jews are being murdered. It’s that the world is already prepared to explain why it’s our fault. And this wasn’t a “cycle.” It wasn’t “context.” It wasn’t “blowback.”

It was a hate crime. A Jew-hunting terrorist attack on American soil. And if your instinct was anything but horror, you are not neutral—you’re complicit.

*Extra reading:

Bobby B. Sprout Meets a Bunch of Rotten Veggies by Ilana K. Levinsky is a charming children’s book that explores themes of diversity, acceptance, and the celebration of individual differences. Follow Bobby B. Sprout on his delightful adventures as he encounters a variety of vegetables, teaching young readers valuable lessons about love, acceptance, and empathy, all with a touch of humor of course! Filled with vibrant illustrations and charming characters, this book is not only enjoyable to read but also serves as a powerful tool in fostering exclusivity and challenging stereotypes from an early age.