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There is something primal in the world’s reaction to Jewish strength.
For centuries, the “acceptable” Jew was the weak Jew — the ghetto Jew, the wandering Jew, the second-class citizen Jew, the Jew who “knew his place.”
The moment that changed, the moment Jews stopped begging for permission and began defending themselves, everything else changed too. That’s when fear crept in. Not Jewish fear, Gentile fear.
Since the 1970s, “anti-Zionism” often masquerades as a moral stance. It cloaks itself in human rights language and intersectional slogans. But scratch the surface, and something deeper, older, and more psychological emerges: a profound discomfort with Jewish power, and especially with Jewish power that cannot be controlled.
The world liked Israel when it was weak. In 1948, when Holocaust survivors picked up rifles and defended a fledgling state against five Arab armies, there was a moment of awe. But even then, the admiration was laced with condescension, the assumption that this was a one-time miracle. A momentary flicker of courage before Israel would settle into permanent dependence on Western goodwill.
But Israel didn’t stay weak. It didn’t stay small. It didn’t collapse under the weight of regional hatred. Instead, it flourished — militarily, technologically, culturally. And that has made many people, including supposed allies, deeply uncomfortable.
A strong Israel doesn’t ask for permission. It doesn’t wait for foreign approval to defend itself. It doesn’t beg for legitimacy at the altar of global institutions that routinely coddle tyrants and terrorists. And for many in the West, especially those invested in narratives of Jewish fragility or guilt, that’s a problem.
Let’s be honest: Much of the world prefers a weak Israel because a weak Israel is easier to control. That’s why even Western countries that call Israel an “ally” often react with disproportionate fury when Israel acts decisively.
When Israel bombed Iraq’s nuclear reactor in 1981, it was condemned across the board, only to be thanked years later when the wisdom of that action became clear. When Israel builds its own defense systems, launches preemptive operations, or asserts its red lines, the outrage is swift. Not because these actions are immoral, but because they are independent.
A weak Israel needs protection; a strong Israel doesn’t. That shift in the power dynamic disturbs many Western diplomats and commentators who still view Jews through a 20th-century lens: as a people to be helped, managed, or pitied — not as a sovereign force with its own interests and red lines.
Many Western elites don’t just want a weak Israel; they want a compliant one. One that fits their favorite storylines: colonizer versus colonized, strong versus oppressed, white versus colored. A powerful, self-determined Israel breaks the mold. It’s a Jewish state, but it’s not subservient. It’s Western in values, but Middle Eastern in geography. It defends itself, but it’s still under constant attack.
This complexity drives them mad. Because if Israel doesn’t fit the narrative, they have to admit the narrative is broken. And many would rather smear Israel than rethink their own dogmas.
As such, Israel exposes moral inconsistencies like few other issues. The way people talk about Israel reveals who they really are, and what they’re willing to ignore to protect their worldview.
How else can you explain the selective outrage? Where are the protests outside the embassies of Syria, Turkey, or China? Why does Israel (the only liberal democracy in its region, with rights for minorities, LGBTQ citizens, and an independent press) get portrayed as the villain in virtually every Western activist's fantasy?
The answer is projection. Israel is a mirror: It reflects the unresolved contradictions of people who want to feel good while siding with those who do evil. And that makes them hate the mirror.
You see, it’s not just politics; it’s psychology. There is a long history of people projecting their own fears, insecurities, and unresolved guilt onto Jews. In the case of Israel, this projection takes the form of obsession. Why is Israel, a country that stretches 424 kilometers (263 miles) from north to south and 114 kilometers (71 miles) from east to west, the subject of more United Nations resolutions than North Korea, Syria, or Iran? Why do campus activists scream about settler colonialism in Tel Aviv, but go silent about the Turkish occupation of Cyprus or the Chinese oppression of Uyghurs?
Because Israel is not just a country to them; it is a mirror. It reflects unresolved tensions: between power and victimhood, between guilt and denial, between Western colonial histories and the desire to appear virtuous. Many on the Left especially cannot accept a Jewish state that is strong, assertive, or morally independent. So they invent a version of Israel that is monstrous, illegitimate, even genocidal — not because it is true, but because it’s necessary to preserve their worldview.
This fear is not new. In many Arab societies, the memory of Jewish strength runs deep, and not in a good way. Under Islamic empires, Jews were permitted to live, but only as dhimmis (second-class citizens). The price of survival was submission. Jews could not bear arms, could not ride horses, could not build higher than Muslims. When Jews broke that mold — whether in the resistance of Hebron, the military prowess of modern Israel, or the intellectual dominance in certain sectors — they were often met not with respect, but with rage.
In 1947, long before any fabricated “occupation,” Arab militias burned synagogues in Aleppo, attacked Jews in Tripoli, and expelled ancient communities from across the Middle East. Why? Because the very idea of a strong, independent Jewish people — on their own land, with their own army — violated centuries of ingrained superiority.
In world affairs, strength is expected. No one questions France’s right to bomb jihadists in Mali, or Turkey’s use of airstrikes on Kurdish militias. But when Jews assert the same right to self-defense? The outrage is deafening.
We must ask: Why is that? Because Jewish strength is the exception. For 2,000 years, Jews were the textbook example of a powerless minority. And many prefer it that way. They’ve grown comfortable with Jews as victims, not as sovereigns.
A powerful Jewish state overturns that psychological order. It unsettles. It forces the world to confront something new: a nation that doesn’t beg, doesn’t fold, and doesn’t wait for permission. That reversal of a people who were once humiliated now flying F-35s over Tehran is too much for some to bear.
To be sure, Israel’s strength goes far beyond intelligence and airstrikes. Its real power lies in what it symbolizes: the triumph of life over death, purpose over despair. This is a country that took in Holocaust survivors and Jewish refugees from Arab lands and, in one generation, built a global hub of medicine, tech, agriculture, and education. It treats wounded Syrians, sends aid to Haiti, and launches rescue ops for Jews trapped in Ethiopia.
That’s not just strength; it’s moral clarity with muscle. And, in a cynical world, that kind of success infuriates people who believe victimhood is the only path to virtue.
Thus, the world’s discomfort with that strength says more about them than about us. They are afraid not of what Israel does, but of what Israel represents: the end of Jewish helplessness, the undoing of the old order, the reassertion of Jewish agency in a world that would rather see Jews as passive, pliable, or pitiful.
But Jews didn’t come home to play that role again.
So yes, some people are afraid of Israel. Good. Maybe they should be. Not because Israel is aggressive or imperialist — it is neither — but because Israelis refuse to be victims, puppets, or pawns. We refuse to fit the story others want to tell. And, in doing so, we write our own.
That’s not a threat. That’s the promise of Zionism.
This denial of the possibility of Jewish power is evident in the so-called right wing commentators who keep harping on about the aid that Israel gets from the US. They complain endlessly about how their taxes are propping up Israel, as though without it Israel would disappear.
They fail to grasp that it’s not a one-way street but a mutually beneficial relationship. In fact, the US gets a bargain for its investment.
Intersectionalism is intellectually and morally bankrupt.
That said, I do want to add something. We should beware of over-generalised statements about "how the world sees Israel".
The author asks: "How can you explain the selective outrage?" Two points, if I may. First, many people look at the relative casualty figures between Israelis and Palestinians, which admittedly for decades have been very disproportionate. (Yes, we know Hamas’ Gaza figures are wildly unreliable and propagandistic.)
Second, the often-outrageous statements of Jewish extremists such as Itamar Ben-Gvir and Bezalel Smotrich are broadcast far and wide in the international news media and interpreted as something tantamount to an official Israeli position. It is a major problem that PM Netanyahu neither corrects nor condemns their utterances, nor orders them to refrain from such extremist rhetoric.
While Israel has been militarily successful, especially against Hezbollah and Iran, Israel has until recently all but neglected a major front in the war: namely information and public messaging. It’s malpractice to cede that vital front to Hamas propagandists and their sympathisers! Moreover, Bibi inexplicably got rid of one of Israel’s most effective English-speaking voices, Eylon Levy – without even bothering to find a good replacement.
PS I would, however, like to acknowledge that Israel’s information to the international community improved markedly during the recent preemptive war against Iran. This should be an example to emulate.