notes from a “not jewish enough” jew; moving from insulation to interdependence

Yesterday an acquaintance shared a post on my feed asking what it means to be a Jew. She basically posited in so many words, that Anti-Zionist Jews shouldn’t celebrate Chanukah as it is an inherently Zionist holiday. There was also a long list of pre-requisites having to do with Jewish practice and tradition following the question, concluding that Jews who don’t check those boxes should, in effect, shut up about the state of Israel. Well, she’s not wrong about Chanukah, and after doing some research on its origin story, I think it’s a valid case. Fortunately, as many Jews of the Diaspora know well, there is power in reinterpreting and adapting traditions and religious text to the times, and places, we find ourselves in. The issue here for me is not about Chanukah per se, but about how this statement is exclusionary, and makes a monolith of Judaism.

I did not grow up practicing. However, in my twenties I began learning more about Judaism and about my ancestry, finding myself in a network of Jewish friends and community where I developed a more intimate connection and love for many facets of Jewish culture and spiritual tradition. Of course for any white supremacist Neo-Nazi, whether or not I practice is irrelevant, I am still a Jew. Naturally, I don’t have the same connection or attachments to the religion as Jews who grew up practicing. I do have some observations, though. And I’m not going to shut up about anything. So… Some thoughts from a “not Jewish enough” Jew:

If we notice ourselves thinking that we can’t trust anyone else, that we don’t have any allies, that we are isolated and the world is against us; if we find ourselves beginning to think that mass killing may be unavoidable or necessary, or anything that goes against our previously deeply held values; if we find ourselves now questioning our values, such as striving for peace, not causing harm, seeing all life as connected and all humans as kin; if we notice ourselves accepting and condoning actions that don’t align with these values, it is our imperative to examine what factors are bringing about these doubts.

Where are these ideas about inevitability coming from? Is it true that there is no other choice? Who are we seeing promote these messages and what do they have to gain from it? Which perspectives or voices might we not be hearing, and why? Have we given ourselves pause to reflect on what other choices could look like? What is to be gained from our mistrust in peaceful solutions? What is to be gained from imagining differently?

Is it possible that our silence is desired because our power is feared? Is it possible that our isolation is desired because our strength in numbers is feared? Is it possible that our hopelessness is desired because our imagination and ingenuity are feared?

As I’ve previously written, I do not support ethno-nation states. I believe that aligning ourselves with ethnic tribalism and nationalism is unrealistic in an increasingly globalized world, as well as exclusionary, dehumanizing and dangerous. Period. This does not mean I am naive enough to think we can totally eradicate nation states in the current world we live in, or that I would want to undo entire statehoods with all their infrastructure and whatever last shreds of democracy they have, only to watch pure chaos unfold. (Okay, an anarchistic part of me wants that in moments of anger and despair — and mostly this has been in regards to a broken two party system in the United States, but this is not my grounded orientation as the violence that would ensue is something I do not wish for anyone.)

It does not mean I am calling for the eradication of Israel and the removal of Israeli Jews from Israel/Palestine. I’m tired of the “you said this, so you must mean that” line of thinking in which people jump to conclusions and point fingers. Israeli Jews and Palestinians both live on the same land and neither of them are going anywhere. Calling for an end to active displacement does not imply a desire for more displacement; they are not mutually exclusive. What it does mean is that I am aligned with humanitarian and earth loving values, not the values of empire and imperialism, and this is what will be centered in my engagement and how I move in the world.

I am a human animal and a citizen of earth, first. Racial, gendered, geographic and religious identities are markers that speak to my social position and how I have been conditioned and cultured, much of which I appreciate and celebrate and much of which I am critical of. I do not view them as essential to my being and belonging. When we fuse our sense of self with a nation state, we are victim to its ideological underpinnings, we are shattered when its foundation begins to crumble and it implodes, and we find ourselves alienated when others do not profess unquestioned allegiance. There is no nation state I know of whose actions and ideologies I feel aligned with. I want to prioritize the well being of peoples and planet over tribes and ideologies. This basic tenet has been further clarified for me during this moment in time.

I am also an American Jew living in the United States. That my criticism of the Israeli government is viewed as antisemitic is a preposterous position. When people cannot criticize nations and governments without being targeted and silenced, we call that authoritarianism. (Additionally, criticism of the Israeli government goes hand in hand with criticism of the U.S. government and their empirical support for Israel as a western proxy in the Middle East).

I want Jews to be safe. I want everyone to be safe. I am legitimately fearful of the pervasive antisemitism and white supremacy that is being unveiled and emboldened around the world right now (yes, they go hand in hand, and must be addressed as such). I am still learning about what this means for me, as someone who grew up in a liberal bubble with very little direct experience of antisemitism. And, in following some of the larger conversations that center antisemitism in our public discourse, I am noticing some major gaps and cognitive dissonance.

There is a rich history of Jewish activists building coalitions and fighting for the liberation of all peoples. There is a rich history of Jewish people who, since the inception of a political Zionist movement, have rejected the creation and maintenance of a Jewish nation state at the expense of the people previously living on the same land. Killing and displacing a whole group of people, as many have pointed out, is the least Jewish thing one can do — meaning it goes against core tenets of Judaism and the values that Jewish communities hold dear after centuries of persecution and displacement.

I understand that Zionism is a loaded term and means different things for different people, and I believe this causes a lot of misunderstanding. I think it is helpful to distinguish between spiritual Zionism and political Zionism. One can experience a spiritual, ancestral tie to the land of Zion, or even the idea of Zion, as well as a desire for the Jewish peoples to have a safe home after a long history of exile, without endorsing the Zionist political project of creating an exclusive ethno-nation state, which requires the exile and/or second class citizenship of the Arab population who have lived on the land since long before its founding.

Sometimes words become distracting when they hold so many conflicting meanings, and lately I’ve found that in order to get through to each other, we have to go back to the basics. So let’s forget the word Zionism for a moment. When it comes to safety, we are better served with more friends, not more enemies. The actions of Netanyahu and the Israeli government is ensuring the latter.

This idea that Jews and Jewish safety are inherently tied to and dependent on an exclusive* ethno-nation state is harmful to Jews. Framing critique of the state of Israel as a form of antisemitism is dangerous (as found in examples within the IHRA definition of antisemitism, ideas supported and promoted by groups like the ADL and funded by right wing nationalists and christian zionists). All of this fans the flames of antisemitism.

How so? It collapses Jewish identity with the state, essentializing what it means to be Jewish and ostracizing a large number of Jews from their own connections with Judaism (there are many expressions of Judaism and many ways to be Jewish that don’t include Israeli nationalism). It gives fuel to actual antisemites who take the opportunity to use the Israeli governments violence as an excuse to perpetrate hate speech / crimes towards Jews. It puts Jews at risk who question or oppose nationalism, conservatism, occupation and apartheid (and there are a lot of us). This is especially true for Israeli citizens protesting the actions of their government, who have been beaten, arrested and silenced for doing so. It also pits Jews against each other, creating oppositional factions.

For example, JVP, among the largest Jewish organizations in the U.S. mobilizing for peace and building coalitions with other social justice orgs, has been repeatedly accused by conservative Jews and Gentiles alike of being antisemitic. How is it that one of the largest organizing bodies comprised of Jews is viewed as antisemitic instead of genuinely representing the views of a large population of Jewish people? You may disagree with Jewish anti-Zionist activists on a number if things, such as the definition of Zionism, but to conclude that they are all antisemitic is a stretch.

Ethno-nationalism pits Jews against Muslims, people of color and various groups who are fighting for the freedom of Palestinian people and for social justice at large. It prevents Jews from building cross cultural, inter-religious coalitions in which broader organizing and interdependent movements can increase safety for everyone, fighting all forms of bigotry, including antisemitism. And as I mentioned earlier, you cannot truly address antisemitism without addressing white supremacy, and vice versa. Nor can you address antisemitism without addressing islamophobia. Jewish and Muslim safety are inextricably linked. Jewish safety is bound to the liberation and safety of all marginalized peoples. Nationalism further isolates us, feeding the narrative that the world is against us, making us feel as if we have no choice but to support a nation state and its violent actions in order to be safe. But these actions in fact heighten conflict and decrease safety for Jews both in Israel and around the world.

Political splintering and dichotomous thinking is multiplying and intensifying. The phenomenon of the far left mirroring the far right, and the numbers of formerly sensible people being funneled towards extremism on either end of the spectrum, is scary. Western identity politics veer into identitarianism, condoning senseless violence, whether in the name of revolution or self defense. Supposed leftists screaming that “one man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter,” celebrating Hamas with signs that read “revolution by any means necessary!” or, as I recently saw, lauding Osama Bin Laden as a hero, would do well to educate themselves further, examine their core values and whether the means they are speaking of align with their ends. Large swaths of supposed leftists are also veering straight into far right identitarianism, some of whom are arguing that Zionism is a decolonization movement and framing settler violence as “land back”, a perfect example of gaslighting as active mass murder and the displacement of a couple million Palestinians is happening in real time. Far right extremists have a heyday feeding off of this polarization and masquerading as if they care for any of the real people living in the Middle East.

It’s crucial that we understand how extremism in both of these expressions is a product of colonized thinking, of which a majority of us are indoctrinated, regardless of the color of our skin. Imperial powers are fed by this very division. The ideology behind an exclusive ethno-nation state put into practice is divisive as it stands in stark opposition to any peaceful, collaborative resolution; it is harmful to us all.

There is much pride in the resilience of Jewish peoples throughout history, and the glue in our stories of survival (both of a people, and of Jewish tradition & culture) is our tenacious ability to come together and to stick together. That is a beautiful thing. It is a gift to the world, and one we can model in an interdependent movement for peace and freedom, and for futures in which our survival and safety are not pitted against that of another. For me, being a Jew is deeply braided with stories of exile, resilience and community — stories I see echoed in just about every other struggle for liberation around the globe. It is also about wrestling with authority and power; about questioning and subversion, not simply taking things at face value. Now is the time to extend that togetherness, even in our pain and fear; not to become more insular. We have much to gain from widening our circles and building bridges.