Steven Beller
Israel and Its Elephants: Problems of Definition, Narrative, and Analogy in Discussing Antisemitism
The ongoing crisis in the Middle East should force us to reconsider what it means to study antisemitism in 2024. I offer these comments in a spirit of seeking some way forward to a clearer and more productive approach. One place to start is to ask how our conceptions of antisemitism can help—or hinder—greater understanding of the crisis as a whole. Some of the recent contributions to this discussion have not been helpful and show how our usage of well-worn cliched analogies about antisemitism only lead to inaccuracy and misunderstanding. Deborah Lipstadt’s likening of antisemitism to a virus without a cure is a case in point. This medicalization of antisemitism is inaccurate and has unfortunate consequences for our understanding of antisemitism and its origins. Above all, it takes away moral responsibility from antisemites, for if they themselves are the victims of a virus, then surely they cannot be held responsible for their thoughts or actions. That is a conclusion no one should want to allow.
If antisemitism is not an eternal, incurable virus, then what is it? In recent decades, some well-meaning people thought they could help answer this question by deriving a comprehensive definition of antisemitism, but the history of the IHRA definition has only shown the difficulty and contentiousness of such a project. Its list of examples of what is antisemitic has been challenged by many in the field, perhaps most notably by Brian Klug, as arbitrary, politically motivated, self-contradictory, and muddled. This is partly because “antisemitism” has come to be a term that is trying to be too many things for too many people.
There was a political movement and ideology that called itself antisemitism in late nineteenth century Europe, centered in Germany and Central Europe. This movement is usually understood to be the core of this historical topic, especially in association with the Nazi, German-led, Holocaust, from which the term antisemitism gained immense opprobrium—quite rightly. Since then, however, the term has come to mean any form of fear or hatred of, or even hostility or opposition to, Jews or Jewish institutions—and the exclusion, discrimination, and oppression that ensued. Yet there have been many forms of such fear, hatred, or hostility, not all of which appear to have the same rationale or origin. Is there a way of rescuing such a variegated concept as this in a way as to make it coherent and plausible?
The ideology and political movement that scholars believe led to the Holocaust was actually complicated enough in itself and had its own contradictory elements. One way of explaining this version of antisemitism and its apparent confusions and contradictions might be to use another analogy: the parable of the elephant and the blind men. The blind men give what seem to be entirely different descriptions of what they have before them, but despite these radically different characteristics, which they find very hard to reconcile, they are, improbably, dealing with one animal. The same with the ideology and political movement of “modern” antisemitism: it was for some a hatred based on religious difference, or it was a fear of Jewish conspiracies to enslave or debauch society, or envy of Jewish economic and intellectual success, or fear and envy of Jewish power over money, or fear of Jewish attempts to abolish money and property, or disdain and contempt for Jews on an ethnic or racial, or even biological level, as sub-human. Some of these characteristics look entirely incompatible: how can one fear Jews for being capitalists and anti-capitalist socialists, for instance? One can argue from the elephant allegory, however, that these are just aspects of one variegated phenomenon. In the capitalism/socialism case, antisemites could indeed reject both because both these “movements” were aspects of a socio-economic modernity that was leaving more traditional forms of economic and social relationships, such as artisanal production, behind. For this example, the elephant analogy can be seen as an effective way of explaining apparent differences within antisemitic thought and attitudes.
Yet its effectiveness only goes so far. The model works to explain the contradictions within the phenomenon of historic modern political antisemitism and its antecedents. If antisemitism is defined as general hatred of Jews throughout history, however, that is a much larger topic, and it becomes so multifaceted and self-contradictory that one must question whether it is one beast at all, or rather several. To use a biblical example: the Book of Exodus says that the Egyptian pharaoh enslaved and hated the Jews, but it makes little sense to call the Egyptian pharaoh “antisemitic,” using a modern linguistic and racialist, pseudo-scientific term to describe events that happened thousands of years ago.
I would claim that the same goes for using the antisemitism “elephant” as an analogy to explain the manifold hostilities and hatreds that Jews face today, whether in Israel or the rest of the world. The antisemitism elephant still helps explain the heinous history of modern antisemitism leading to the Holocaust, and that same phenomenon is clearly still evident in the extreme nationalisms that are on the rise in Europe and North America, as well as some extreme left-wing conspiracy theories that continue to associate Jews with money, capitalism, and power. Some forms of anti-Zionism similarly go back to such conspiracy theories about the “Elders of Zion” and Israel engaged in a plot to control humanity. But many forms of anti-Zionism, and criticism, opposition, hostility, and even hatred of the state of Israel, do not have this same origin, and come from a different “elephant.”
Some scholars would dispute this. They would claim that anti-Zionism and hostility to the state of Israel might be a “new” antisemitism in some ways, going from the national to the international level, so that Israel is now “the Jew” among the nations, but it is still the same antisemitism that led to the Holocaust, still always to be condemned as immoral, irrational, and mendacious—still the very definition of evil. This argument is often used as a moral and political weapon by Zionists and the Israeli government to suppress or condemn criticism of Israel and Zionism. It has proved to be a very powerful weapon, given the guilty conscience of the West and the international community about the Holocaust. The problem is that the analogy does not work—it is not the same “elephant.”
This Israel-related “elephant” has its similarities with the larger antisemitism “elephant,” and is even related, given the ways in which antisemitic tropes and theories often turn up in its rhetoric. It is certainly not entirely blameless in the way it has approached Israel and the Jewish people. However, the Israel-related “elephant” differs in fundamental ways from its relative. For a start, the “antisemitism” elephant is irredeemably evil after Auschwitz, and, therefore, if something is “antisemitic” it is, by definition, unjust, mendacious, and wrong. Yet, with the Israel-related “elephant,” its central characteristics are completely in tune with modern ethics, international law, social justice, the rule of law, and with the very liberal principles that traditionally undergirded the fight against antisemitism. This Israel-related “elephant” is the subject of a petition that almost 3,000 individuals, amongst them many of the best scholars in the field, signed in August 2023: “The Elephant in the Room” (sites.google.com/view/israel-elephant-in-the-room/petitions/aug-23-elephant-in-the-room?authuser=0). That elephant in the room is the Palestinian Question: how is Israel to deal with the fact that the conflict with the Palestinians is still with us, over 75 years after Israel’s founding—and far from any just or peaceable solution? The petition was very critical of Israeli policy, and of those on the Israeli Left who were ignoring the government’s oppressive policies toward Palestinians in the West Bank, but it was expressing its opposition to current Israeli policy and actions in the name of the human rights of a large population under Israel’s control: Palestinians in the West Bank. Defending the human rights of individuals cannot, in my estimation, be defamed as “antisemitic.”
Antisemitism was, historically, built around the “Jewish Question.” What we have in Israel/Palestine today is not so much a Jewish Question but a Palestinian Question. Israel’s supporters might disagree with supporters of the Palestinian cause of seeking just redress for what has happened to them since 1948, but it is disingenuous to denounce them all as antisemitic. Many of these supporters simply seek to realize equal rights for Palestinians: to have their own self-governing state in their Palestinian homeland, or to live in a state where their voices and interests are heard and fully valued, as in any liberal democracy, perhaps side by side with their Jewish fellow citizens in a bi-national state, or in a secular unitary state. Again, it cannot be antisemitic to seek an equitable settlement for a group that has been deprived of its equal right to national self-determination, and whose members have had their human rights, on an individual basis, often denied. Proclaiming “Palestinian Lives Matter” would be about as “antisemitic” as saying “Black Lives Matter” is “racist.” This is the case even if the cause for Palestinian rights challenges Zionist perspectives, or even impinges on the material interests of the Jewish state of Israel. The “elephant in the room” of the Palestinian Question is thus a quite different beast from the antisemitism “elephant.”
The dilemma of how the Palestinian Question should be resolved satisfactorily for the rights and interests of both sides is—obviously—extremely difficult to resolve. The Israeli and Palestinian narratives of the conflict are so at odds that it is very difficult to see how they can be reconciled, even though there is truth in the perspectives of both sides. Creating a political solution that would accommodate the interests and principles of both Jewish Israelis and Arab Palestinians in a way that secured a just peace is even harder. However, this is precisely what we should be aiming for, rather than imagining that the territory “from the river to the sea” should be the exclusive domain of either Israel or Palestine. The actual solution will not be simple and could be quite an odd beast in itself, but it will never see the light of day if those on the Zionist side of the dispute insist on calling those trying to acknowledge and solve the problems inherent in the “elephant in the room” antisemitic. If they continue to do so, they will be mistaking their elephant, with potentially tragic consequences.
Steven Beller was born in England and read History at the University of Cambridge. He has written extensively on Central European and Jewish themes. Among his publications are Vienna and the Jews, 1867-1938 (Cambridge, 1989) and Antisemitism: A Very Short Introduction (Oxford, 2009, 2015). He is currently an independent scholar living in Washington DC.
If antisemitism is not an eternal, incurable virus, then what is it? In recent decades, some well-meaning people thought they could help answer this question by deriving a comprehensive definition of antisemitism, but the history of the IHRA definition has only shown the difficulty and contentiousness of such a project. Its list of examples of what is antisemitic has been challenged by many in the field, perhaps most notably by Brian Klug, as arbitrary, politically motivated, self-contradictory, and muddled. This is partly because “antisemitism” has come to be a term that is trying to be too many things for too many people.
There was a political movement and ideology that called itself antisemitism in late nineteenth century Europe, centered in Germany and Central Europe. This movement is usually understood to be the core of this historical topic, especially in association with the Nazi, German-led, Holocaust, from which the term antisemitism gained immense opprobrium—quite rightly. Since then, however, the term has come to mean any form of fear or hatred of, or even hostility or opposition to, Jews or Jewish institutions—and the exclusion, discrimination, and oppression that ensued. Yet there have been many forms of such fear, hatred, or hostility, not all of which appear to have the same rationale or origin. Is there a way of rescuing such a variegated concept as this in a way as to make it coherent and plausible?
The ideology and political movement that scholars believe led to the Holocaust was actually complicated enough in itself and had its own contradictory elements. One way of explaining this version of antisemitism and its apparent confusions and contradictions might be to use another analogy: the parable of the elephant and the blind men. The blind men give what seem to be entirely different descriptions of what they have before them, but despite these radically different characteristics, which they find very hard to reconcile, they are, improbably, dealing with one animal. The same with the ideology and political movement of “modern” antisemitism: it was for some a hatred based on religious difference, or it was a fear of Jewish conspiracies to enslave or debauch society, or envy of Jewish economic and intellectual success, or fear and envy of Jewish power over money, or fear of Jewish attempts to abolish money and property, or disdain and contempt for Jews on an ethnic or racial, or even biological level, as sub-human. Some of these characteristics look entirely incompatible: how can one fear Jews for being capitalists and anti-capitalist socialists, for instance? One can argue from the elephant allegory, however, that these are just aspects of one variegated phenomenon. In the capitalism/socialism case, antisemites could indeed reject both because both these “movements” were aspects of a socio-economic modernity that was leaving more traditional forms of economic and social relationships, such as artisanal production, behind. For this example, the elephant analogy can be seen as an effective way of explaining apparent differences within antisemitic thought and attitudes.
Yet its effectiveness only goes so far. The model works to explain the contradictions within the phenomenon of historic modern political antisemitism and its antecedents. If antisemitism is defined as general hatred of Jews throughout history, however, that is a much larger topic, and it becomes so multifaceted and self-contradictory that one must question whether it is one beast at all, or rather several. To use a biblical example: the Book of Exodus says that the Egyptian pharaoh enslaved and hated the Jews, but it makes little sense to call the Egyptian pharaoh “antisemitic,” using a modern linguistic and racialist, pseudo-scientific term to describe events that happened thousands of years ago.
I would claim that the same goes for using the antisemitism “elephant” as an analogy to explain the manifold hostilities and hatreds that Jews face today, whether in Israel or the rest of the world. The antisemitism elephant still helps explain the heinous history of modern antisemitism leading to the Holocaust, and that same phenomenon is clearly still evident in the extreme nationalisms that are on the rise in Europe and North America, as well as some extreme left-wing conspiracy theories that continue to associate Jews with money, capitalism, and power. Some forms of anti-Zionism similarly go back to such conspiracy theories about the “Elders of Zion” and Israel engaged in a plot to control humanity. But many forms of anti-Zionism, and criticism, opposition, hostility, and even hatred of the state of Israel, do not have this same origin, and come from a different “elephant.”
Some scholars would dispute this. They would claim that anti-Zionism and hostility to the state of Israel might be a “new” antisemitism in some ways, going from the national to the international level, so that Israel is now “the Jew” among the nations, but it is still the same antisemitism that led to the Holocaust, still always to be condemned as immoral, irrational, and mendacious—still the very definition of evil. This argument is often used as a moral and political weapon by Zionists and the Israeli government to suppress or condemn criticism of Israel and Zionism. It has proved to be a very powerful weapon, given the guilty conscience of the West and the international community about the Holocaust. The problem is that the analogy does not work—it is not the same “elephant.”
This Israel-related “elephant” has its similarities with the larger antisemitism “elephant,” and is even related, given the ways in which antisemitic tropes and theories often turn up in its rhetoric. It is certainly not entirely blameless in the way it has approached Israel and the Jewish people. However, the Israel-related “elephant” differs in fundamental ways from its relative. For a start, the “antisemitism” elephant is irredeemably evil after Auschwitz, and, therefore, if something is “antisemitic” it is, by definition, unjust, mendacious, and wrong. Yet, with the Israel-related “elephant,” its central characteristics are completely in tune with modern ethics, international law, social justice, the rule of law, and with the very liberal principles that traditionally undergirded the fight against antisemitism. This Israel-related “elephant” is the subject of a petition that almost 3,000 individuals, amongst them many of the best scholars in the field, signed in August 2023: “The Elephant in the Room” (sites.google.com/view/israel-elephant-in-the-room/petitions/aug-23-elephant-in-the-room?authuser=0). That elephant in the room is the Palestinian Question: how is Israel to deal with the fact that the conflict with the Palestinians is still with us, over 75 years after Israel’s founding—and far from any just or peaceable solution? The petition was very critical of Israeli policy, and of those on the Israeli Left who were ignoring the government’s oppressive policies toward Palestinians in the West Bank, but it was expressing its opposition to current Israeli policy and actions in the name of the human rights of a large population under Israel’s control: Palestinians in the West Bank. Defending the human rights of individuals cannot, in my estimation, be defamed as “antisemitic.”
Antisemitism was, historically, built around the “Jewish Question.” What we have in Israel/Palestine today is not so much a Jewish Question but a Palestinian Question. Israel’s supporters might disagree with supporters of the Palestinian cause of seeking just redress for what has happened to them since 1948, but it is disingenuous to denounce them all as antisemitic. Many of these supporters simply seek to realize equal rights for Palestinians: to have their own self-governing state in their Palestinian homeland, or to live in a state where their voices and interests are heard and fully valued, as in any liberal democracy, perhaps side by side with their Jewish fellow citizens in a bi-national state, or in a secular unitary state. Again, it cannot be antisemitic to seek an equitable settlement for a group that has been deprived of its equal right to national self-determination, and whose members have had their human rights, on an individual basis, often denied. Proclaiming “Palestinian Lives Matter” would be about as “antisemitic” as saying “Black Lives Matter” is “racist.” This is the case even if the cause for Palestinian rights challenges Zionist perspectives, or even impinges on the material interests of the Jewish state of Israel. The “elephant in the room” of the Palestinian Question is thus a quite different beast from the antisemitism “elephant.”
The dilemma of how the Palestinian Question should be resolved satisfactorily for the rights and interests of both sides is—obviously—extremely difficult to resolve. The Israeli and Palestinian narratives of the conflict are so at odds that it is very difficult to see how they can be reconciled, even though there is truth in the perspectives of both sides. Creating a political solution that would accommodate the interests and principles of both Jewish Israelis and Arab Palestinians in a way that secured a just peace is even harder. However, this is precisely what we should be aiming for, rather than imagining that the territory “from the river to the sea” should be the exclusive domain of either Israel or Palestine. The actual solution will not be simple and could be quite an odd beast in itself, but it will never see the light of day if those on the Zionist side of the dispute insist on calling those trying to acknowledge and solve the problems inherent in the “elephant in the room” antisemitic. If they continue to do so, they will be mistaking their elephant, with potentially tragic consequences.
Steven Beller was born in England and read History at the University of Cambridge. He has written extensively on Central European and Jewish themes. Among his publications are Vienna and the Jews, 1867-1938 (Cambridge, 1989) and Antisemitism: A Very Short Introduction (Oxford, 2009, 2015). He is currently an independent scholar living in Washington DC.