For centuries, hatred of Jews was crude and obvious. It took the form of blood libels, economic accusations, biological or theological stereotypes. It was relatively easy to identify. Today, in many parts of the Western world, it looks different. It speaks the language of morality, human rights, and social justice. It does not present itself as hatred, but as criticism. Yet beneath this updated language hides the same old pattern.
The new antisemitism is rarely directed at Jews as individuals, but at Judaism as a collective. It focuses on the State of Israel, but does not limit itself to criticism of policy or decisions. It challenges the very legitimacy of a Jewish state and the right of Jews to exercise power, defend themselves, and define the boundaries of their identity.
What distinguishes this antisemitism is the way it wraps itself in moral terms. It presents itself as a fight against injustice, as solidarity with the weak, as resistance to power. But when one examines the standards it applies, a glaring lack of symmetry emerges. Israel is judged by standards not applied to any other country. Violence against it is given explanations and context, while its self-defense is portrayed as a moral problem.
In universities, media, and international organizations, a discourse is developing in which Jews are required to prove they are “on the right side” in order to be accepted. Jewish identity becomes suspect when it is not accompanied by public self-condemnation. Jews who express identification with Israel are labeled as immoral, blind to suffering, or acting out of tribal interest.
This pattern is not accidental. It rests on a deep perception that Jewish power is inherently problematic. According to this narrative, Jews are supposed to be a moral minority, an eternal victim, a living testimony to suffering. The moment they become sovereign, with an army and a state, they violate the role the world finds convenient to assign them. And then, in the name of morality, they are punished.
Here too lies a dangerous inversion of concepts. Aggression is presented as resistance, and the murder of civilians as “context.” Organizations that openly declare their desire to destroy a state are granted linguistic legitimacy, while a democratic state defending its citizens is portrayed as the aggressor. Language does not merely reflect reality - it creates it.
The problem is not criticism. Criticism of Israel, like that of any country, is legitimate and even necessary. The problem arises when criticism turns into delegitimization, when existence itself is presented as a moral sin, and when no scenario exists in which Israeli action is considered justified. At that point, it is no longer moral discourse, but ideology.
The new antisemitism is particularly dangerous because it allows its holders to feel moral. They do not see themselves as Jew-haters, but as justice fighters. They do not recognize the historical continuity because they are convinced they are on the enlightened side of history. It is precisely this self-assurance that makes the phenomenon so persistent.
In the end, the question is not only what happens to Jews, but what happens to morality itself. When concepts like justice, compassion, and human rights are mobilized selectively, they lose their power. A society unable to recognize hatred when it is wrapped in beautiful language will struggle to defend its own values.
The new antisemitism is not an accident. It is a symptom of a world that struggles to confront evil, boundaries, and responsibility. And once again, Israel becomes an uncomfortable mirror that forces the West to face the question it prefers not to ask: Is our morality still binding, or has it become an empty political tool?
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