In an age where prejudices of all kinds are rightly subjected to unrelenting scrutiny, anti-Zionism occupies an unsettling and peculiar space. While bigotry in most of its forms is publicly condemned and often career-ending, hostility toward Zionism—the Jewish aspiration for national self-determination—not only remains acceptable in many circles but is often celebrated as a hallmark of intellectual and moral virtue. This glaring double standard demands examination, not least because it reveals so much about the peculiar ease with which society continues to dismiss, marginalise, and vilify Jews and their history.
Unlike overt antisemitism, which is easily recognised and usually denounced, anti-Zionism wears a disguise. It masquerades as a political critique, a righteous opposition to the actions of a particular state. Advocates of anti-Zionism are quick to claim that their objections are to Israel’s policies—or even its existence as a state—not to Jews per se. This distinction allows anti-Zionism to slip under the radar of public scrutiny, shielding itself from accusations of bigotry while perpetuating ideas that, in many cases, are undeniably antisemitic.
Zionism, stripped of the distortions often imposed upon it, is nothing more or less than the Jewish people’s assertion of their right to self-determination. This is a right routinely recognised for other peoples, celebrated in movements from Irish republicanism to Indian independence. Yet, in the case of the Jews, it is framed as an aberration, as if the idea of a Jewish homeland were some sinister exception to an otherwise acceptable rule.
This sleight of hand—portraying Zionism as uniquely objectionable—has allowed anti-Zionists to present their prejudices as noble and their biases as virtuous. Cloaked in the language of human rights, anti-Zionism offers its adherents the moral satisfaction of condemning oppression while perpetuating one of history’s oldest hatreds.
One reason anti-Zionism enjoys its peculiar immunity from criticism is that it taps into long-standing prejudices against Jews. For centuries, Jews have been cast as the "other"—a people apart, held collectively responsible for societal grievances and historical ills. Anti-Zionism is simply the latest iteration of this narrative, in which Israel, as the Jewish state, is not seen as a country like any other but as a repository for the world’s frustrations, its sins, and its hatreds.
To its detractors, Israel is not merely a state with policies they find objectionable; it is a symbol of all that is wrong in the world. Zionism, by extension, becomes a shorthand for imperialism, colonialism, and oppression, allowing anti-Zionists to frame their hostility as a stand against injustice. Yet, this narrative relies on the grotesque dehumanisation of Jews, reducing them to caricatures of power and privilege even as their history—and often their present—tells a far darker story of vulnerability and survival.
Part of anti-Zionism’s appeal lies in its simplicity. In a world of complex moral dilemmas, it offers a straightforward binary: Israel as the oppressor, Palestinians as the oppressed. Never mind that the reality of the conflict is infinitely more complicated, or that Israel’s population includes refugees from Arab lands, Holocaust survivors, and Jews from Ethiopia and beyond. To the anti-Zionist, such nuances are inconvenient distractions.
The Palestinian cause, whatever its merits, has been adopted as a moral rallying cry by those eager to champion victimhood and resistance. Israel, in this framework, is cast as the ultimate villain—a role it plays not because of the facts of the conflict but because it fits neatly into the anti-colonial narrative beloved by many on the political left. This narrative requires no understanding of history, no grappling with competing claims to land, and no acknowledgment of the Jewish people’s right to self-determination. It demands only outrage, and anti-Zionism provides it in abundance.
Anti-Zionism thrives, in part, because it is championed by cultural elites. Academics, activists, and artists have elevated it to a position of social acceptability, presenting it as a legitimate critique of power and injustice. University campuses, in particular, have become breeding grounds for anti-Zionist sentiment, where Israel is singled out for condemnation while far greater abuses of human rights elsewhere are ignored.
This double standard is not a coincidence. It reflects a broader willingness to treat Jews and the Jewish state as uniquely problematic. No other country’s right to exist is questioned with the same fervour; no other people’s claim to self-determination is met with such relentless hostility. The fact that anti-Zionism often leads to the harassment of Jewish students or the targeting of Jewish institutions is treated as an unfortunate side effect rather than a predictable outcome.
The social acceptability of anti-Zionism has real consequences. It emboldens those who seek not just to criticise Israel but to delegitimise its very existence. It provides a respectable veneer for antisemitism, allowing hatred to flourish in spaces where it might otherwise be challenged. And it isolates Jewish communities, forcing them to defend their right to exist in a way that no other group is ever asked to do.
Moreover, anti-Zionism distorts the discourse around Israel and the Middle East, reducing it to a battle of slogans and accusations. It shuts down debate, entrenches divisions, and makes the pursuit of peace infinitely more difficult.
Anti-Zionism is not the harmless political critique it claims to be. It is a prejudice disguised as principle, a hostility that perpetuates ancient hatreds under the banner of progress. It is long past time to confront this hypocrisy and hold it to the same standards we apply to other forms of bigotry.
Criticism of Israel, like criticism of any state, is fair and necessary. But to single out the Jewish state for delegitimisation, to deny the Jewish people their right to self-determination, or to treat Zionism as uniquely sinister, is not justice. It is prejudice. And if society truly seeks to root out all forms of bigotry, it must begin by acknowledging this one for what it is.
