Why discussing antisemitism is dangerous for Arab intellectuals

In the Arab world, specific topics are spoken of in whispers, their discussion wrapped in caution and fraught with peril. Among these, antisemitism stands out as one of the most challenging. It is a subject burdened with history, shaped by political realities, and tangled in emotionally charged narratives. To broach this topic is to tread on dangerous ground, where the consequences extend far beyond mere disagreement—it risks profound misjudgment, social alienation, targeted hostility, and even the specter of excommunication. The risks are extraordinarily high for intellectuals, activists, educators, and even everyday individuals attempting to engage in a straightforward discussion. Yet, the need for open and honest dialogue on this subject is more pressing than ever. How can one address prejudice against Jews—a deeply rooted and pervasive issue—without facing accusations of betrayal, of jeopardizing the Palestinian cause, or of aligning with Western agendas?

This question is made even more difficult by the fact that the term “antisemitism” itself is not widely recognized in the Arab world, either linguistically or conceptually. Unlike in the West, where it is understood as prejudice explicitly targeting Jews, in the Arab world, it is often dismissed as a construct designed to silence criticism of Israel. For many, antisemitism is conflated with political opposition to Zionism, creating a moral and rhetorical maze that makes any meaningful discussion nearly impossible. Yet the costs of avoiding the topic are profound, not only for Jewish communities, but also for Arab societies themselves.

Antisemitism in the Arab world manifests through deeply entrenched narratives that often conflate historical, religious, and political prejudices. These narratives, propagated through media, literature, and education, frequently rely on stereotypes portraying Jews as conspiratorial or malevolent. Religious rhetoric has at times amplified antisemitic tropes, framing Jews in negative theological terms, while political discourse has further cemented these biases. Such portrayals have normalized antisemitism within certain segments of society, reinforcing harmful prejudices and perpetuating cycles of discrimination and hostility.

In this environment, antisemitic rhetoric frequently goes unchallenged. Conspiracy theories about Jewish control of global institutions, Holocaust denial, and dehumanizing stereotypes are all too common, woven into media, education, and even religious discourse. These narratives are not always born of hatred; sometimes, they are a byproduct of frustration, ignorance, or the desire to resist what is perceived as an oppressive force. But their impact is the same: they perpetuate a climate of intolerance and feed into global antisemitic currents.

For Arab intellectuals who dare to challenge these narratives, the risks are immense. In societies where dissent is often viewed with suspicion, questioning deeply ingrained beliefs can be seen as an act of betrayal. Governments, wary of upsetting popular sentiment, may stifle such discussions to avoid appearing weak on the Palestinian cause. Social pressures are equally intense. On social media, where accusations spread quickly, and reputations are easily destroyed, those who speak out against antisemitism often find themselves labeled as traitors or collaborators. Yet, it is the courage and determination of these intellectuals that inspire change and foster understanding.

Consider the case of Mohammed Dajani Daoudi, a Palestinian professor and peace activist whose experience highlights the profound risks faced by Arab intellectuals seeking to address sensitive topics like antisemitism. In March 2014, Daoudi led a delegation of 27 Palestinian students to Auschwitz to foster empathy and understanding through Holocaust education. The initiative, rooted in the belief that confronting historical truths could promote tolerance and dialogue, was met with fierce backlash. Critics accused Daoudi of promoting normalization with Israel and betraying the Palestinian cause. The response was not confined to words: his car was torched, he received numerous death threats, and the mounting pressure ultimately forced him to resign from his position at Al-Quds University.

This was not an isolated case. Efforts to introduce Holocaust education or even address antisemitism in Arab societies are frequently met with similar hostility. Often framed as steps toward historical understanding and global citizenship, these initiatives are swiftly dismissed as political betrayals. Critics argue that such efforts undermine the Palestinian struggle, conflating them with broader geopolitical agendas. The result is a chilling effect that discourages others from engaging with these critical topics, further narrowing the region’s already limited space for intellectual inquiry.

The danger is compounded by the perception that external critiques of Arab antisemitism are often dismissive of the region’s legitimate grievances. Many Arabs feel that Western discussions of antisemitism ignore the realities of occupation, displacement, and systemic inequality that have shaped their experiences. To many, these critiques appear one-sided, failing to recognize the profound injustices that fuel resentment. This sense of being misunderstood or unfairly judged feeds defensiveness, making it even harder to confront antisemitism internally.

Yet the inability to address antisemitism comes at a significant cost. Prejudice against Jews is not only a moral failing but also a barrier to progress. It isolates Arab societies from global conversations about tolerance and coexistence, undermines their intellectual integrity, and erodes the values of justice and fairness that they claim to uphold. However, addressing antisemitism is not about choosing sides or diminishing the Palestinian cause: it is about affirming a commitment to truth and rejecting hatred in all its forms. There is potential for significant progress and change in this area, offering hope for a more tolerant and understanding future.

One way forward is reclaiming the region’s intellectual and ethical traditions. The Islamic educational tradition of علم الكلام (ʿIlm al-Kalām), which emphasizes reasoned debate and critical inquiry, offers a robust framework for engaging with complex issues. Historically, this tradition provided Muslim scholars the tools to address contentious theological and philosophical questions. In the context of antisemitism, it can help separate legitimate political critiques from discriminatory attitudes, fostering a more thoughtful and nuanced conversation.

Education is vital for fostering understanding and dismantling prejudice in the contemporary Arab world. Integrating Holocaust education into curricula, along with stories of Arab and Muslim individuals who risked their lives to save Jews during the Holocaust, can challenge harmful stereotypes and foster empathy. Tragically, these stories – rooted in courage, solidarity, and shared humanity—remain largely unknown and are neither widely circulated nor openly discussed in the Arab world. Changing this narrative is essential for combating antisemitism and building bridges of understanding.

For example, Mohammed Helmy, an Egyptian doctor in Berlin during the Nazi regime, risked his life to save a Jewish family, providing shelter, forged documents, and safe passage. He became the first Arab recognized by Yad Vashem as a Righteous Among the Nations, yet his story is virtually unheard of in much of the Arab world.

Anna Gutman (Boros) visits her rescuer Dr. Mohamed Helmy in 1968

Similarly, Khaled Abdul-Wahab, known as the “Arab Oskar Schindler,” hid Jewish families on his farm in Tunisia for months, protecting them from German soldiers. His heroism is a poignant example of Arab values of justice and compassion, yet it remains overlooked in public discourse.

Portrait of Khaled Abdul Wahab.
This image is available from the United States Library of Congress’s Prints and Photographs division under the digital ID van.5a51602

Other powerful examples include Si Kaddour Benghabrit, the rector of the Grand Mosque of Paris, who issued false Muslim identity papers to Jews, saving hundreds from Nazi deportation. In Morocco, King Mohammed V resisted Vichy France’s demands to implement anti-Jewish laws and deport Moroccan Jews to concentration camps, declaring that Jews were his subjects and deserved his protection. In Albania, predominantly Muslim communities sheltered nearly all of the country’s Jews, guided by the Islamic principle of Besa, the moral obligation to protect others.

Dinner for the Sultan of Morocco in President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s villa at the Casablanca Conference. Seated: the Sultan, FDR, Prime Minister Winston Churchill. Standing: Gen. Patton, Mr. Robert D. Murphy, Harry Hopkins, the Crown Prince, Gen. Nogues, the Grand Vizier, the Chief of Protocol, Elliott Roosevelt, Capt. McCrea. FDR Library Photograph Collection, NPx 48-22:224.

These remarkable acts of courage reflect a proud tradition of Arab and Muslim solidarity with oppressed peoples. However, their absence from educational curricula and public discourse has allowed harmful stereotypes and prejudices to persist. These narratives must be reclaimed, and by incorporating them into Holocaust education, we can demonstrate that standing against oppression aligns with deeply held values in Arab societies.

Framing Holocaust education in this way also offers an opportunity to address modern challenges. Highlighting the dangers of unchecked hate and bigotry through the lens of the Holocaust can help combat contemporary antisemitism in Arab societies. These stories should be presented, not as foreign impositions, but as part of a shared heritage of moral courage and humanity, fostering a sense of pride in standing against hatred.

At the same time, external voices have a role to play—but they must approach the issue with humility and nuance. Critiques of Arab antisemitism that fail to engage with the region’s complexities only reinforce defensiveness and alienation. A more constructive approach would involve listening to Arab perspectives, acknowledging their grievances, and supporting local efforts to address antisemitism in ways that resonate with their cultural and historical context.

Ultimately, confronting antisemitism in the Arab world requires courage. It demands that intellectuals, activists, and educators navigate a hostile environment with patience and resolve. It requires that external critics engage with empathy and respect, recognizing the region’s capacity for rational debate and legitimate frustrations. And it demands a willingness, on all sides, to confront uncomfortable truths.

Left unchallenged, antisemitism perpetuates division, intolerance, and injustice. Addressing it is a moral imperative and an opportunity to build bridges, foster understanding, and affirm the values that make societies strong. For the Arab world, confronting antisemitism is not a betrayal—it is a step toward reclaiming its intellectual and moral leadership in a world that desperately needs it.