Anti-Semitism, Palestine, and the burden of misnaming

Recently, a troubling claim has gained traction in political and media discourse: that international recognition of the State of Palestine fuels anti-Semitism. Some Israeli officials have gone further, suggesting that solidarity with Palestinian rights is itself a form of hostility towards Jews. This argument deserves careful examination — not dismissal, but scrutiny — because it risks collapsing moral clarity into confusion, and justice into accusation.
For Arabs and Muslims, this debate is neither abstract nor new. It strikes at a deep historical irony: Arabs are themselves Semitic peoples. Arabic is a Semitic language. Arab and Jewish histories are intertwined across centuries of shared geography, trade, culture and faith. To suggest that Arab advocacy for Palestinian statehood is inherently anti-Semitic is not only analytically flawed — it erases this shared lineage and weaponises identity against itself.
Anti-Semitism, as understood in contemporary Western discourse, is real. It is dangerous. It must be confronted unequivocally wherever it appears. Hatred of Jews — whether religious, racial, or cultural — has no place in ethical politics or moral struggle. But conflating anti-Semitism with criticism of Israeli state policy, or with opposition to political Zionism, does not protect Jewish communities. It distorts the concept until it loses credibility — and in doing so, it risks weakening the very fight against genuine anti-Jewish hatred.
The current tension lies in a dangerous misnaming. Political Zionism is a modern nationalist ideology. Judaism is a faith, a civilisation and a moral tradition. Jews, as they stand today, are a people — diverse in belief, geography and political position. These categories are not interchangeable, and treating them as such does injustice to all three.
When states recognise Palestine, they are not endorsing hatred against Jews. They are responding — belatedly — to decades of occupation, displacement and the systematic denial of Palestinian self-determination. Recognition is not an act of erasure; it is an attempt, however imperfect, to restore balance to an international order that has long privileged power over rights.
The claim that Palestinian recognition causes anti-Semitism reverses causality.
History suggests that hatred surges not after legal recognition, but after images of unchecked violence, civilian death and perceived impunity. What we are witnessing globally is not a rise in hatred towards Jews as Jews, but an intensification of anger towards policies perceived as unjust, disproportionate and immune from accountability. When governments respond to that anger by framing it as ethnic or religious hatred, they shift the conversation away from law, responsibility and reform — and towards fear.
This is not a defence of anger spilling into abuse. It is a call to distinguish between protest and prejudice, between resistance to oppression and hatred of a people. The failure to draw this line clearly harms everyone: Palestinians whose suffering is delegitimised; Jews whose legitimate fears are instrumentalised; and the international system, whose moral language becomes incoherent.
Arab and Muslims must also speak clearly. Our solidarity with Palestine must never slide into the dehumanisation of Jews, Christians, or anyone else. The moral strength of the Palestinian cause lies precisely in its universality: a demand for dignity, equality and freedom under international law. Any rhetoric that abandons those principles betrays the cause rather than serving it.
At the same time, Israeli leaders must recognise that invoking anti-Semitism as a shield against accountability is not only ineffective — it is corrosive. It alienates allies, silences necessary debate and places Jewish communities worldwide in an impossible position: asked to carry the political weight of a state’s actions, whether they support them or not.
There is a greater danger here. When every critique is branded hatred, the word itself loses meaning. And when that happens, real anti-Semitism — violent, conspiratorial and genocidal — becomes harder to confront, not easier.
The path forward requires intellectual honesty and moral courage. Recognition of Palestine should be framed not as an act against Jews, but as an act for justice. Opposition to occupation should be articulated not as revenge, but as restoration of rights. And the fight against anti-Semitism should be reclaimed from political instrumentalisation and returned to its proper place: the defence of human dignity against hatred.
This is not a zero-sum moral universe. One can stand firmly against anti-Semitism and equally firmly against the annihilation of Palestinian rights. One can honour Jewish historical suffering without permitting it to be used as justification for another people’s dispossession. One can reject hatred without surrendering justice.
If there is to be a future beyond accusation and counter-accusation, it will begin by naming things correctly. Not every critique is hatred. Not every recognition is hostility. And not every demand for freedom is a threat.
Justice does not require enemies. It requires clarity.