Not long ago, I wrote about one of the great narrative advantages antizionists have secured for themselves: they position Zionism as the disruptive event, the thing that enters history and must justify itself to the world.
Once that move is accepted, everything else becomes easier. Arab and Palestinian politics can slip out the back door. Jewish self-determination is dislodged from the ordinary language of nations, peoples, borders, refugees, war, defeat, compromise, and statecraft. It is marked instead as an alien politics, a permanent intrusion, a problem whose existence must be explained before anything else can even be discussed.
To see how extreme this is, imagine the same narrative machinery being used against Palestinians.
Imagine a world in which Palestinian celebrities, writers, professors, business owners, and artists were routinely targeted across countries. The crudest people would call them “baby killers.” The more respectable class would ask whether Palestinians had finally produced a realistic solution to the conflict their nationalism helped create.
People assumed to be Arab would be stopped in public and asked whether they supported a State of Palestine that depends on violence, ethnic exclusion, and the permanent denial of Jewish self-determination. In the entertainment industry, actors and musicians would be pressured to denounce Palestine before being allowed to keep their reputations. Lists would circulate of pro-Palestine donors, professionals, students, and public figures.
People with barely a passing interest in the conflict would somehow know the names of the most brutal or embarrassing figures associated with Palestinian history, and only those figures. They would know the massacres, the rejectionism, the authoritarian leaders, the corruption, the ideological maximalists, the factions that murdered civilians, the schools and media systems that glorified “martyrs,” the diplomats who rejected partition, the movements that turned refugeehood into a permanent political weapon.
And then, after years of this, when most ordinary people had grown exhausted by it, the people still doing it would insist that they were merely asking questions. They would call it critique. They would call it anti-nationalism. They would call it concern for human rights. They would deny that any of this had anything to do with Arabs or Palestinians as people, even while Arabs and Palestinians bore the social consequences of the obsession.
Meanwhile, political candidates across the democratic world would begin making “criticism of Palestine” and “criticism of Palestinian ideology” central to their campaigns. Campus movements would demand that universities cut ties with Palestinian institutions. Public figures would be asked, again and again, whether they condemn Palestinian self-determination. The entire subject would be organized around the presumption that Palestine is the thing that must answer for itself.
This hypothetical is almost impossible to imagine because it is so distant from political reality. Sometimes Zionist propaganda can come close in quality, but microscopic in quantity. That is the achievement of antizionist narrative politics. It constructs Jewish national self-determination as the exceptional case, the suspect case, the one nationalism that must stand before the world and prove that it has a right to exist at all. And once that burden is assigned, everything else follows.
To note here at the end, the response to this shouldn’t be imitation. It should be exposure. This kind of politics is disguising and should be rooted out of society. Today it is used against Zionists and Jews generally, but it didn’t begin there and it won’t stop there. It will need to be stopped by people who can see it for what it is and make what it is clear to those who still can’t see it well.