Why Wars in the Middle East Lead to Attacks on Jews Thousands of Miles Away

When violence erupts in the Middle East, something strange happens.

A missile lands in Gaza, and a synagogue in Europe is vandalized.

An Israeli military operation begins, and Jewish students on American campuses suddenly find themselves confronted, harassed, or expected to answer for decisions made by a government they have never voted for and have no connection with.

A diplomatic dispute involving Israel breaks out, and Jewish communities thousands of miles away are forced onto the defensive.

Most people recognize that this makes little sense. A Jewish businessman in London does not determine Israeli military policy. A Jewish physician in Paris does not sit in the Israeli cabinet. A Jewish student in New York has no more influence over the decisions of the Israeli government than his non-Jewish classmates do.

Yet the pattern repeats itself over and over again.

Why?

The usual answer is anti-Semitism. Certainly anti-Semitism is part of the story. Hatred of Jews existed long before the State of Israel was founded and would continue to exist even if Israel disappeared tomorrow.

But that explanation alone leaves an important question unanswered.

If anti-Semitism is a constant, why do anti-Jewish incidents so often spike during Israeli military conflicts? Why do attacks against Jews frequently rise during wars involving Israel and then decline when those wars end?

For more than a century, opponents of Zionism have argued that there is a direct connection. Once the world was taught to think of Israel as the state of the Jewish people, Jews around the world would inevitably be judged according to Israel's actions. Today, the existence of this phenomenon is undeniable.

In recent decades, researchers who track anti-Semitic incidents have repeatedly documented the same pattern. Major military confrontations involving Israel are often followed by significant increases in anti-Jewish incidents in countries that have no direct role in the conflict. The people being targeted are not Israeli soldiers, Israeli politicians, or even necessarily supporters of Israel. They are simply Jews.

The assumption underlying these attacks is obvious. People see Israel and Jews as one and the same.

That assumption is entirely false. Yet it has become remarkably common.

The irony is that many of the people who make this mistake would never apply the same logic to anyone else. When the United States invaded Iraq, few people blamed random Americans living abroad. When Russia invaded Ukraine, nobody suggested harassing Russian Orthodox churches in Canada. When China adopts a controversial policy, few people conclude that Chinese-Americans are personally responsible.

But when Israel acts, many people instinctively transfer responsibility to Jews generally.

Part of the reason is that Israel represents itself not merely as a state with a Jewish majority, but as the state of the Jewish people. Israeli politicians routinely speak (without any basis) in the name of Jews worldwide. Media outlets frequently blur the distinction between Israel and Jews. Even many people who oppose Israel accept the premise that Israel somehow represents Jews collectively.

Once that premise is accepted, the consequences become predictable.

If Israel represents all Jews, then all Jews become responsible for Israel.

If Israel has enemies, Jews acquire enemies.

If Israel is accused of wrongdoing, Jews are expected to answer for it.

The logic is deeply flawed, but it follows naturally from the original (false) premise.

One of the more revealing examples comes not from Israel's critics but from Jewish communities themselves. Following the 2010 Gaza flotilla incident, anti-Jewish sentiment rose sharply in Turkey. Jewish leaders there found themselves forced to explain something that should have been obvious: Turkish Jews were not responsible for the actions of the Israeli government. Prominent Turkish Jews publicly declared that Jewish citizens of Turkey should not be held accountable for decisions made by a foreign state. They were Turks who happened to be Jewish, not representatives of Israel.

The fact that such statements had to be made at all illustrates the problem.

The same dynamic appears again and again. During conflicts involving Israel, Jewish communities often find themselves insisting that they are not parties to the dispute. They are not combatants. They are not policymakers. They are not spokesmen for the Israeli government.

Yet many people refuse to accept that distinction.

This creates another problem that receives far less attention.

People often assume that criticism of Israel and hostility toward Jews are the same thing. They are not.

A person may oppose Israeli policies without hating Jews. A person may support Israeli policies without representing Jews. A person may be Jewish without supporting Israel. A person may be Jewish and oppose Zionism entirely.

Once these distinctions are understood, much of the confusion disappears.

Governments should be judged by their actions. Political movements should be judged by their ideas. And individuals should be judged by their own conduct.

The trouble begins when those categories are merged together.

The vandal who attacks a synagogue after an Israeli military operation may believe he is protesting Israel. In reality, he is attacking people who may have no connection to the policies he opposes.

The activist who demands that local Jews condemn Israeli actions may imagine he is seeking accountability. In reality, he is assigning collective responsibility based on religion or ancestry.

The politician who speaks of Jews and Israel as interchangeable may think he is expressing solidarity. In reality, he is reinforcing the very confusion that places Jewish communities at risk.

The distinction is not complicated.

Israel is a state.

Jews are a people.

The two have nothing to do with each other.

The more the world forgets that simple fact, the more ordinary Jews will continue paying the price.