In 2000, approximately 450 academic papers and books were published dealing with antisemitism.  In 2020, there were 1,200; in 2024, over 3,000.  Unsurprisingly, cultural trends and specific events of these past few years have brought a great deal of attention to identifying, understanding, and combating antisemitism.  While it is a commonplace that it is eternal – ever since Pharaoh’s “in the event of war they may join our enemies…” (Ex. 1:10)  and Haman’s “There is a certain people…” (Esther 3:8) –  certain twentieth century trends may have helped dull its sting (or so it seemed):

The rise of pluralistic democracies in many countries, based on concepts of universal rights and equality, pushed antisemitism into the private, personal realm. Those democracies crushed the Nazis and held them to account – and outlasted the Soviet Union with its official oppression of Jews. It felt like the Enlightenment dream of a neutral society was actually being realized.  One could feel optimistic…  Moreover, the Jews had, meanwhile, attained statehood, an army, power, recognition as equal members of the family of nations; we had emerged from our powerlessness – upon which antisemitism had fed – into national normalcy.

Now, suddenly, it feels like our optimism was premature.  Undisguised and unapologetic expressions of antisemitism suddenly seem ubiquitous, giving rise to concern and responses everywhere, from op-eds to congressional hearings, from political campaigns to Israeli diplomatic action.  Of course (as always) it can be a little hard to tease out when we are dealing with hatred of the Jews – and when we are dealing with other issues – grievances, power-plays – for which the discussion of antisemitism is just a convenient cover or lever.  Thus, weirdly, lately it seems that some of the people most interested in “fighting antisemitism” are the very people who we thought, innocently, all along, to be anti-Semites themselves.

Moreover, Israel’s self-designation as “the nation-state of the Jewish people” creates a certain confusion.  Being a nation-state involves, unavoidably, functioning within the complicated reality of geopolitical interests, struggles, even wars.  It means having allies and enemies.  It means being supported or vilified by other nation-states and their peoples.  And since Israel is the nation-state of the Jewish people, it is very difficult to separate the Jewish people, everywhere, from those interests, struggles, and wars, from the support and vilification that is aimed at Israel.  So contrary to Herzl’s hope that Jewish empowerment would make antisemitism obsolete, it has provided fertile soil on which antisemitism could flourish.

One doesn’t have to be a Zionist to recognize that once the Jews lost their sovereignty in 586 BCE, and began to live in distinctive minority communities in others’ sovereign states, antisemitism became a constant.  The Jews were the natural scapegoat, and were always useful as such, both to rulers and to rebels.  And then both Christianity and Islam have had trouble coming to terms with the fact that their claims to supersede Judaism were not accepted by the Jews.  So the combination of the Jews’ powerlessness with their insistence on maintaining their distinctive identity despite persecution – that is, insistence on power of agency despite physical/economic/political powerlessness – has meant that antisemitism has been baked into western culture.

So, if antisemitism is eternal, what does it mean to fight it?

It seems to me we have to make a distinction between feelings/beliefs and actions.  As Martin Luther King said:  “While it may be true that morality cannot be legislated, behavior can be regulated.  It may be true that the law cannot change the heart but it can restrain the heartless.  It may be true that the law cannot make a man love me but it can keep him from lynching me.”  (Speech at Western Michigan University, 1963).  If people hate Jews (or anyone else) in their hearts but don’t act on that hatred, we can educate, cajole, preach, and explain: we can teach the truth, we can try to change the narrative – but ultimately people are free to think and believe what they want.  Over the years we’ve tried those methods on small and large scales, and sometimes they even work.  Actions, on the other hand, as King argued, are actionable.  If you express your hatred by beating me up, firing me, refusing to sell me your house, or humiliating me in public, then, in a society that values fairness and equality, I should have recourse to the law – to receive compensation, to prevent a recurrence by punishing offenders.  The perpetrator may be deterred from harming me, but that won’t stop them from being an anti-Semite.  But after all, anyone who lives in society has to internalize the barriers against acting on every thought or feeling or fantasy.

In premodern times, Jews assumed that gentile persecution was part of God’s punishment of exile – what God did to us on account of our failure to maintain the covenant, to build the ideal society.  So there was no way to fight it.  Later, with secularization, there were Jews who began to see Jewish suffering from the gentiles’ perspective and to imagine that the persecution could be ameliorated by becoming less distinctive, more like everyone else.  From fifteenth century Spain to twentieth century Germany – and, it seems, twenty-first century America – that vision has turned out to be an illusion.

A variation on this view was Herzl’s proposal: if the Jews were to have a nation-state like everyone else, then they would come to be accepted like any “normal” nation, and antisemitism would fade away.  The prevailing understanding of this concept is that the key is power: if antisemitism was somehow engendered by the Jews’ powerlessness, acquiring power would neutralize it.  They wouldn’t be able to kick us around anymore, for we could kick back – or even kick pre-emptively – and thus gain respect.  Such kicking may protect us from anti-Semitic acts, but it should not be understood as “fighting antisemitism.”

Since it seems we cannot educate, shame, or force them not to hate us, maybe we should direct our energies in two directions:

to making sure that Jewish identity (in Israel and in the Diaspora) has enough spiritual and intellectual and moral content to justify the suffering we must undergo to maintain it; and

 to building societies (in Israel and elsewhere) where it is unacceptable – indeed, forbidden – to act on or propagate one’s hatred for Jews, or for anyone else.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)