Günther Jikeli
The Universal and The Particular: 10/7 and Its Aftermath Challenges the Very Concept of Humanity
“Humanityyyyyy, we certainly could use a little bit of it. Since the attack of Hamas, I no longer know what this is supposed to be,” wrote Elfriede Jelinek, winner of the 2004 Nobel Prize for Literature after deleting all her other work from her website. And indeed, the massacre itself, which can hardly be put into words, as well as the lack of condemnation in its aftermath, the many relativizations of what happened, and the two-sideism blaming both Hamas and Israel, put into serious question whether there is even such a thing as common humanity.
However, the idea of a common humanity is old and profound. It touches the core of how we define ourselves and what makes us human. While the ancient Greeks made a distinction between themselves and the barbarians, they also had the idea that all people had a certain compassion and benevolence or sympathy. The Roman concept of Humanitas included the idea that the same standards must apply to all civilizations and that all people enjoyed some protection from mistreatment, including slaves, strangers, and prisoners of war. Similar ideas developed in other parts of the world. The Hindu Laws of Manu contained rules of warfare that prohibited the killing of non-combatants and the use of particularly cruel weapons. Christian, Jewish, and Islamic theologies also laid down rules to protect civilians and non-combatants. Even though history is littered with violence against civilians, these ideas at least created a moral framework critical of such acts.
Although the Holocaust, genocides, and pogroms have violated the most basic principles of human interaction and, in modern terms, constitute crimes against humanity, I assumed that most people in our world have a notion of human decency and a sense of common humanity. Without giving it much thought, I naively assumed that while people still do terrible things, excessive, unprovoked, and intentional violence against civilians would generally be avoided, condemned, and regretted, except perhaps by individual psychopaths and sadists. October 7 taught me otherwise. It has deeply impacted the way I think about the world and humanity.
The gruesome mass murder of Israeli civilians was not the act of a few deranged madmen. It was planned down to the smallest detail by Hamas and carried out by an estimated 3000 men including Hamas fighters, members of other armed groups, and Palestinian civilians. The perpetrators did not try to hide what they were doing. On the contrary, many of them filmed it, published it on social media, and bragged about it. These men do not share a minimal vision of common humanity; or if they do, they do not see the Jews as part of humanity.
But the perpetrators do not seem to value the lives of their own people either. They knew that their actions would not lead to a military victory, but to a response from the Israeli army, under which the people of Gaza would suffer greatly. They did not care about the suffering of the Palestinian civilian population as a direct consequence of their actions. Hamas welcomed an Israeli military response as an opportunity for martyrdom and they prepared for it—not through measures that would protect the Palestinian civilian population but, on the contrary, through measures that would increase the number of civilian casualties in Gaza by hiding among the civilian population, preventing the population from using its extensive network of tunnels as shelter, and preventing them from fleeing targeted areas.
The perpetrators probably also rightly expected that Israel would not act in a similar way to what they did, i.e. to torture civilians in the cruelest possible way and to kill as many civilians as possible. But again, this only shows their lack of a notion of common humanity that includes the idea of basic reciprocity. Why did the perpetrators do what they did? “To ask why the Jews have been killed is a question that shows immediately its obscenity,” Claude Lanzmann once said about the Holocaust. The same can be said about the victims of the unspeakable atrocities on October 7, even if the dimensions are much smaller compared to the Holocaust. But there are similarities. There was no “reason” for the murder of infants, women, children, men, and old people. The only "reason" is the delusional, redemptive hatred of Jews on the part of Hamas (and other terror groups) and their desire to kill as many Jews as possible.
But it is not just about the perpetrators. The Palestinian leadership in the West Bank has failed to condemn the attacks. Many Palestinians and Arabs celebrated the attacks, and according to polls and anecdotal evidence, such as videos of Palestinian civilians in Gaza publicly cheering the abuse of mutilated hostages, the majority of Palestinians were in favor of the attacks, even more so in the West Bank than in Gaza. What vision do the Palestinians who have not condemned the atrocities of October 7 have, not only for Israel, for which they seem to be seeking genocide, but also for their own society? What is the vision for a society that tolerates such mass murder of civilians?
But it is also not just the perpetrators and large sections of Palestinian society. All over the world, people were celebrating or making excuses for the terror, including in some of the most prestigious Western educational institutions. Condemnation of the massacres was rare, especially among university leaders. "It depends on the context," said three university presidents when asked at a senate hearing whether calls for the genocide of the Jewish people would violate their institutions' code of conduct. What kind of vision of humanity do they have if such atrocities and calls for genocide can somehow be contextualized and excused, including by blaming “both sides.”
This global silence reveals a worrying trend: the normalization of antisemitism, which excludes Jews from the concept of common humanity. This also has universal implications. When a group of people can be excluded, it shows that the idea of a common humanity is itself an illusion.
The reactions to October 7 have shown how strongly anchored the worldview is that identifies Israel as evil. The clearer the facts are that Israel is the victim, the more vehemently Israel is attacked with serious accusations. This has already been seen in previous cases. When the Mavi Marmara ship was heading towards Gaza in 2010 to break the naval blockade, the Israeli navy forced the ship to change course. Israeli soldiers climbed down a ladder from a helicopter hovering above the ship. All the major news channels showed pictures of the soldiers and how they were beaten with iron bars before opening fire. Most of the commentary, however, was about the cruel Israeli soldiers. On October 7, it was even clearer who was the attacker and who was the victim. The massacre of Israelis was completely unprovoked, the perpetrators breached the border, entered Israeli territory, and murdered defenseless civilians for the whole world to see thanks to the proud dissemination of footage by the perpetrators themselves. There is good reason to believe that the perpetrators had the "intent to destroy, in whole or in part,” the Jewish and/or Israeli people, which would classify the massacre as genocide under the definition of the UN Genocide Convention.
On the same day, however, while the massacre was still taking place, Israel was accused of genocide and "the ongoing annihilation of Palestinians" by 34 student organizations at Harvard University. The most charitable interpretation of why people accuse Israel and not Hamas of genocide and other crimes, is that their antisemitic, Manichean worldview is so essential to their identity that they must cling to that worldview even when the facts so obviously argue against it. This remains true during the Israeli ground offensive to defeat Hamas and free the hostages, and the tens of thousands of casualties and wounded among the population in Gaza. The Israeli army tried to limit, not maximize, the number of civilian casualties. A deeply ingrained antisemitic view prioritizes pre-existing beliefs over objective reality.
The delusional accusations against Israel have a certain logic, at least psychologically, because the alternative would be to abandon the worldview that demonizes Israel. The same mechanism can explain the wave of antisemitism immediately after October 7, which peaked even before the Israeli ground offensive in Gaza. It is not just that antisemites feel emboldened by the mass murder of Jews, "exhilarated" and "energized" as one American professor said he felt, and that they are thus prompted to take action themselves. While maintaining an antisemitic worldview in which Israel and the Jews are guilty, it becomes unbearable to recognize Jews as victims. The accusation of antisemitism must be rejected while engaging in antisemitic behavior and thinking at the same time. The Jews are not victims, they deserve to be hated; hating them is not irrational antisemitism, the reasoning goes.
Hamas and large sections of Palestinian society have proven by their words and deeds that they endorse the genocide of the Israeli people. The atrocities of 10/7 should be condemned unequivocally by all who believe in common humanity, regardless of their views on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. The lack of condemnation in too many circles has implications on a particular and a universal level. The particular and most pressing level concerns Israel and the Jews. Despite paying lip service to Holocaust remembrance and professing to combat hatred and prejudice, including antisemitism, significant parts of Western (and other) societies today do not care about the genocidal threat to the Jewish people. Worse, the universalization and appropriation of the Holocaust survivors' particular promise of "never again" and the "lessons of the Holocaust" can easily be turned against the Jews.
The universal level concerns the international world order after the Second World War and the vision for humanity. Is the world moving away from a universalist approach to human rights towards a world in which we are only concerned about in-group loyalty and what serves our identitarian vision? This could mean a moral regression that sets us back even behind ancient civilizations. If there is a “we.”
Günther Jikeli holds the Erna B. Rosenfeld Professorship at the Institute for the Study of Contemporary Antisemitism in the Borns Jewish Studies Program at Indiana University. He is an associate professor of Germanic Studies and Jewish Studies and heads the “Social Media & Hate” research lab.
However, the idea of a common humanity is old and profound. It touches the core of how we define ourselves and what makes us human. While the ancient Greeks made a distinction between themselves and the barbarians, they also had the idea that all people had a certain compassion and benevolence or sympathy. The Roman concept of Humanitas included the idea that the same standards must apply to all civilizations and that all people enjoyed some protection from mistreatment, including slaves, strangers, and prisoners of war. Similar ideas developed in other parts of the world. The Hindu Laws of Manu contained rules of warfare that prohibited the killing of non-combatants and the use of particularly cruel weapons. Christian, Jewish, and Islamic theologies also laid down rules to protect civilians and non-combatants. Even though history is littered with violence against civilians, these ideas at least created a moral framework critical of such acts.
Although the Holocaust, genocides, and pogroms have violated the most basic principles of human interaction and, in modern terms, constitute crimes against humanity, I assumed that most people in our world have a notion of human decency and a sense of common humanity. Without giving it much thought, I naively assumed that while people still do terrible things, excessive, unprovoked, and intentional violence against civilians would generally be avoided, condemned, and regretted, except perhaps by individual psychopaths and sadists. October 7 taught me otherwise. It has deeply impacted the way I think about the world and humanity.
The gruesome mass murder of Israeli civilians was not the act of a few deranged madmen. It was planned down to the smallest detail by Hamas and carried out by an estimated 3000 men including Hamas fighters, members of other armed groups, and Palestinian civilians. The perpetrators did not try to hide what they were doing. On the contrary, many of them filmed it, published it on social media, and bragged about it. These men do not share a minimal vision of common humanity; or if they do, they do not see the Jews as part of humanity.
But the perpetrators do not seem to value the lives of their own people either. They knew that their actions would not lead to a military victory, but to a response from the Israeli army, under which the people of Gaza would suffer greatly. They did not care about the suffering of the Palestinian civilian population as a direct consequence of their actions. Hamas welcomed an Israeli military response as an opportunity for martyrdom and they prepared for it—not through measures that would protect the Palestinian civilian population but, on the contrary, through measures that would increase the number of civilian casualties in Gaza by hiding among the civilian population, preventing the population from using its extensive network of tunnels as shelter, and preventing them from fleeing targeted areas.
The perpetrators probably also rightly expected that Israel would not act in a similar way to what they did, i.e. to torture civilians in the cruelest possible way and to kill as many civilians as possible. But again, this only shows their lack of a notion of common humanity that includes the idea of basic reciprocity. Why did the perpetrators do what they did? “To ask why the Jews have been killed is a question that shows immediately its obscenity,” Claude Lanzmann once said about the Holocaust. The same can be said about the victims of the unspeakable atrocities on October 7, even if the dimensions are much smaller compared to the Holocaust. But there are similarities. There was no “reason” for the murder of infants, women, children, men, and old people. The only "reason" is the delusional, redemptive hatred of Jews on the part of Hamas (and other terror groups) and their desire to kill as many Jews as possible.
But it is not just about the perpetrators. The Palestinian leadership in the West Bank has failed to condemn the attacks. Many Palestinians and Arabs celebrated the attacks, and according to polls and anecdotal evidence, such as videos of Palestinian civilians in Gaza publicly cheering the abuse of mutilated hostages, the majority of Palestinians were in favor of the attacks, even more so in the West Bank than in Gaza. What vision do the Palestinians who have not condemned the atrocities of October 7 have, not only for Israel, for which they seem to be seeking genocide, but also for their own society? What is the vision for a society that tolerates such mass murder of civilians?
But it is also not just the perpetrators and large sections of Palestinian society. All over the world, people were celebrating or making excuses for the terror, including in some of the most prestigious Western educational institutions. Condemnation of the massacres was rare, especially among university leaders. "It depends on the context," said three university presidents when asked at a senate hearing whether calls for the genocide of the Jewish people would violate their institutions' code of conduct. What kind of vision of humanity do they have if such atrocities and calls for genocide can somehow be contextualized and excused, including by blaming “both sides.”
This global silence reveals a worrying trend: the normalization of antisemitism, which excludes Jews from the concept of common humanity. This also has universal implications. When a group of people can be excluded, it shows that the idea of a common humanity is itself an illusion.
The reactions to October 7 have shown how strongly anchored the worldview is that identifies Israel as evil. The clearer the facts are that Israel is the victim, the more vehemently Israel is attacked with serious accusations. This has already been seen in previous cases. When the Mavi Marmara ship was heading towards Gaza in 2010 to break the naval blockade, the Israeli navy forced the ship to change course. Israeli soldiers climbed down a ladder from a helicopter hovering above the ship. All the major news channels showed pictures of the soldiers and how they were beaten with iron bars before opening fire. Most of the commentary, however, was about the cruel Israeli soldiers. On October 7, it was even clearer who was the attacker and who was the victim. The massacre of Israelis was completely unprovoked, the perpetrators breached the border, entered Israeli territory, and murdered defenseless civilians for the whole world to see thanks to the proud dissemination of footage by the perpetrators themselves. There is good reason to believe that the perpetrators had the "intent to destroy, in whole or in part,” the Jewish and/or Israeli people, which would classify the massacre as genocide under the definition of the UN Genocide Convention.
On the same day, however, while the massacre was still taking place, Israel was accused of genocide and "the ongoing annihilation of Palestinians" by 34 student organizations at Harvard University. The most charitable interpretation of why people accuse Israel and not Hamas of genocide and other crimes, is that their antisemitic, Manichean worldview is so essential to their identity that they must cling to that worldview even when the facts so obviously argue against it. This remains true during the Israeli ground offensive to defeat Hamas and free the hostages, and the tens of thousands of casualties and wounded among the population in Gaza. The Israeli army tried to limit, not maximize, the number of civilian casualties. A deeply ingrained antisemitic view prioritizes pre-existing beliefs over objective reality.
The delusional accusations against Israel have a certain logic, at least psychologically, because the alternative would be to abandon the worldview that demonizes Israel. The same mechanism can explain the wave of antisemitism immediately after October 7, which peaked even before the Israeli ground offensive in Gaza. It is not just that antisemites feel emboldened by the mass murder of Jews, "exhilarated" and "energized" as one American professor said he felt, and that they are thus prompted to take action themselves. While maintaining an antisemitic worldview in which Israel and the Jews are guilty, it becomes unbearable to recognize Jews as victims. The accusation of antisemitism must be rejected while engaging in antisemitic behavior and thinking at the same time. The Jews are not victims, they deserve to be hated; hating them is not irrational antisemitism, the reasoning goes.
Hamas and large sections of Palestinian society have proven by their words and deeds that they endorse the genocide of the Israeli people. The atrocities of 10/7 should be condemned unequivocally by all who believe in common humanity, regardless of their views on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. The lack of condemnation in too many circles has implications on a particular and a universal level. The particular and most pressing level concerns Israel and the Jews. Despite paying lip service to Holocaust remembrance and professing to combat hatred and prejudice, including antisemitism, significant parts of Western (and other) societies today do not care about the genocidal threat to the Jewish people. Worse, the universalization and appropriation of the Holocaust survivors' particular promise of "never again" and the "lessons of the Holocaust" can easily be turned against the Jews.
The universal level concerns the international world order after the Second World War and the vision for humanity. Is the world moving away from a universalist approach to human rights towards a world in which we are only concerned about in-group loyalty and what serves our identitarian vision? This could mean a moral regression that sets us back even behind ancient civilizations. If there is a “we.”
Günther Jikeli holds the Erna B. Rosenfeld Professorship at the Institute for the Study of Contemporary Antisemitism in the Borns Jewish Studies Program at Indiana University. He is an associate professor of Germanic Studies and Jewish Studies and heads the “Social Media & Hate” research lab.