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Friday, July 03, 2026

 

Success story brown bear: 3D analysis reveals the secret of their climate resilience




Staatliche Naturwissenschaftliche Sammlungen Bayerns
Lower jaws of fossil brown bears 

image: 

Lower jaws of fossil brown bears from the Le Régourdou Cave, Dordogne, France, dating back 243,000 years, and from the Postes Cave, Extremadura, Spain, dating back 71,000–104,000 years. The brown bear from the Postes Cave lived during a warmer interglacial period and had a shorter row of teeth than Ice Age brown bears, as well as a shorter lever arm for its masticatory muscles.

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Credit: Mónica Villalba de Alvarado





Brown bears have lived in Europe for 175.000 years, right up to the present day. A new study now shows that, over the course of their evolution, the masticatory function of the lower jaws of European brown bears (Ursus arctos arctos) changed significantly time and again and did so in sync with the climate, alternating between warm and cold periods. This is the conclusion reached by zoologist Anneke van Heteren of the Bavarian State Collections of Natural History (SNSB) and her colleague from the Universidad del País Vasco, Donostia-San Sebastián. In their study, the two researchers compared the lower jaws of fossil and modern brown bears with those of their closest relatives, including two extinct cave bear species (Ursus spelaeus and Ursus deningeri) as well as polar bears (Ursus maritimus).

Detailed geometric 3D analyses show that the basic jaw structurehas remained remarkably stable in European brown bears over thousands of years. In contrast to the specialized herbivorous cave bear or the carnivorous polar bear, the brown bear retained a versatile, omnivorous jaw structure. This has not changed drastically since the Pleistocene. The crucial flexibility, however, lies in the details: The researchers found subtle differences in lower jaw morphology in the area where the large chewing muscle, Musculus masseter, attaches. Here, the morphology of brown bears varies over the course of their evolution, depending on whether they lived during warm or cold climatic periods. The lower jaws of fossil brown bears from cold periods resemble those of modern bears native to cooler regions of the Northern Hemisphere and high-altitude areas. The jaws of fossil brown bears from warm periods, regardless of geological age, differ significantly from these. Apparently, changes in the available food supply for brown bears were reflected in the flexible adaptation of their masticatory musculature.

“This morphological flexibility of the masticatory structures in brown bears shows us that the animals were evidently able to adapt optimally to the selective demands of their environment. Their ability to cope with such extreme climatic fluctuations likely played a decisive role in their evolutionary success. Brown bears have been continuously present in Europe since the Middle Pleistocene. More specialized species, such as the cave bear, however, became extinct,” explains Anneke van Heteren, curator of mammals at the Bavarian State Collections of Natural History (SNSB) and lead author of the study. 


Lower jaw and skull bone of a Syrian brown bear Ursus arctos syriacus, a subspecies of the brown bear adapted to warmer climates, from the paleoanatomical collection of the SNSB.

Lower jaw of a Syrian brown bear Ursus arctos syriacus, a subspecies of the brown bear adapted to warmer climates from the paleoanatomical collection of the SNSB.

Skulls of brown bears from the SNSB’s paleoanatomical collection. On the right is a Syrian brown bear Ursus arctos syriacus, a subspecies adapted to warmer climates.

Credit

K. Hagemann, SNSB

Monday, June 08, 2026

Higher Education Must Not Become a Research Arm of Militarized Power


Universities risk becoming agents of militarized socialization rather than sites of democratic education.

June 8, 2026

A pro-Palestine protester holds a placard that says, "No more research for IOF (Israeli Occupation Forces)" during a 2024 rally at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) campus in in Cambridge, Massachusetts, as student demonstrators demand divestment from Israeli military ties.Vincent Ricci / SOPA Images / LightRocket via Getty Images


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What happens to higher education when institutions dedicated to critical thought increasingly align themselves with the logics of war, surveillance, and national security? Unless we mount an organized resistance, we may viscerally experience the answer to this question all too soon.

We are already watching this transformation play out in both the U.S. and Canada as universities face growing pressure to align their missions, research agendas, and pedagogical practices with the values, priorities, and imperatives of a society increasingly organized around the logic of war.

Militarized policies, values, identities, and modes of governance no longer merely creep into U.S. society. Under the Trump administration, they increasingly define it. Militarization now extends far beyond the battlefield, reshaping everyday life, public institutions, and the very meaning of citizenship. War is celebrated as a moral imperative, often wrapped in the language of religious righteousness and white Christian nationalism. Due process gives way to abductions and arbitrary detention, dissent is met with threats and repression, soldiers occupy U.S. cities, and political violence is normalized through a steady stream of incendiary rhetoric and state-sponsored spectacles that glorify force, exclusion, and domination. Democratic ideals are displaced by a culture of fear, manufactured insecurity, and the belief that the nation is besieged by enemies both within and beyond its borders — largely immigrants and people of color.

In this militarized landscape, critical thought is derided, informed judgment is replaced by ideological conformity, and institutions charged with nurturing democratic agency increasingly come under attack. This fusion of militarism, toxic masculinity, religious fundamentalism, and white nationalist politics functions as a powerful form of public pedagogy, producing the authoritarian values, identities, and modes of agency that have historically provided the cultural foundations for fascist politics.
The Dangers of the “Military-Industrial-Academic Complex”

The late U.S. President Dwight D. Eisenhower warned of the dangers posed by what he called the “military-industrial-academic complex.” In an earlier draft of his famous 1961 farewell address on the military-industrial complex, Eisenhower included the word “academic,” recognizing that universities could become deeply entangled with military power, corporate interests, and state security agendas in ways that threatened their intellectual independence and democratic mission.


Critics Slam Carney’s Plan to Jump-Start Canada’s Economy via Military Industry
Canada’s prime minister faces blowback for his plan to hike Canadian arms companies’ profits by 240 percent in 10 years. By Nora Loreto , Truthout  March 3, 2026


This warning extends to countries that increasingly live in the shadow of the U.S.’s expanding warfare state and its militarized culture. For instance, against an increasingly militarized global order, the Canadian government has unveiled an expansive “Defence Industrial Strategy” backed by 81.8 billion Canadian dollars (around 60 billion in U.S. dollars) in new defense spending in Budget 2025, including 6.6 billion Canadian dollars devoted specifically to expanding the country’s defense-industrial infrastructure. The strategy marks the largest long-term expansion of Canada’s military economy since the Second World War.

What once appeared to be limited partnerships between North American universities and defense industries has evolved into a far broader transformation of higher education itself. As Canada dramatically expands military spending through its Defence Industrial Strategy, universities are increasingly being drawn into the orbit of defense priorities. Federal initiatives encourage partnerships between universities, defense contractors, and government agencies in fields such as artificial intelligence, cybersecurity, quantum computing, autonomous systems, and advanced surveillance technologies. Research funding is increasingly directed toward projects framed around national security, defense innovation, and military competitiveness. As these priorities gain influence, higher education is being reshaped by the social logics of militarization, technological control, and permanent security, altering not only what knowledge is produced but also the purposes to which it is put, raising urgent questions about the future of the university as a democratic public sphere.


Militarized knowledge production blurs the line between education and warfare, transforming universities into laboratories for the development of technologies whose ultimate purpose is often surveillance, social control, and lethal violence.

The growing use of drones and AI-driven warfare systems is not simply a military development. It signals a broader transformation in how research and knowledge are produced, funded, and valued. As universities deepen their involvement in military research, fields ranging from artificial intelligence and data analytics to robotics and cybersecurity are increasingly organized around the imperatives of surveillance, security, and warfare. AI technologies are already being deployed by state agencies to monitor migrants, journalists, activists, and political dissidents, while drones have revolutionized warfare by making it cheaper, more remote, and less accountable. Under such conditions, knowledge is not viewed primarily as a public good serving democratic life. Instead, it is increasingly organized around military imperatives of prediction, control, targeting, and domination. The result is a form of militarized knowledge production that blurs the line between education and warfare, transforming universities into laboratories for the development of technologies whose ultimate purpose is often surveillance, social control, and lethal violence.

Michael S. Sherry rightly argues that in an age in which state power is increasingly organized through militarized values and security logics, military culture now shapes not only state policy but “broad areas of national life.” As David Theo Goldberg argues, militarization no longer operates only through armies and weapons systems. It increasingly shapes culture, technology, modes of governance, and everyday life. As Goldberg observes:


The military is not just a fighting machine…. It serves and socializes. It hands down to society, as big brother might, its more or less perfected goods, from gunpowder to guns, computing to information management … In short, while militarily produced instruments might be retooled to other, broader social purposes, the military shapes pretty much the entire range of social production from commodities to culture, social goods to social theory.

The implications for higher education are profound. Militarization does not simply reshape culture, technology, and governance. It also reorganizes the production of knowledge itself, aligning university research with the imperatives of surveillance, security, and warfare while legitimating authoritarian forms of power. The rapid expansion of artificial intelligence research tied to military and surveillance applications deepens these dangers. Universities are increasingly helping to develop technologies used for predictive policing, automated warfare, mass surveillance, and forms of digital authoritarianism that blur the line between security and repression. Such developments are routinely justified in the language of innovation, efficiency, and national security, yet they raise profound ethical questions about the role of higher education in designing technologies that deepen inequality, expand state violence, erode civil liberties, and facilitate the killing of civilians, including children, in conflicts largely removed from public scrutiny.


The militarization of the university is not simply a matter of research contracts or funding priorities. It is pedagogical, cultural, and deeply political.

The militarization of the university is not simply a matter of research contracts or funding priorities. It is pedagogical, cultural, and deeply political. Universities do more than train workers; they shape civic identities, ethical sensibilities, and the capacity for democratic agency itself. When higher education embraces military partnerships and military-driven research agendas, it legitimates a worldview in which security eclipses justice, technological efficiency displaces ethical reflection, and dissent is recast as a threat rather than a democratic necessity.
How Militarization Reorganizes the Production of Knowledge

As militarization becomes woven into the fabric of political culture, universities increasingly reorganize knowledge, research priorities, and technological innovation around the assumptions of permanent conflict, geopolitical competition, and security management. In doing so, higher education normalizes the belief that militarized knowledge and military solutions should govern everyday life. Yet militarization does not merely reshape research priorities and institutional culture. It also reorganizes historical memory, civic identity, and the very terms through which democracy is understood.

Militarization also bears heavily on the production of knowledge itself. As Fintan O’Toole observes, contemporary authoritarian movements do more than expand military power; they seek to reshape historical memory and civic consciousness. Shameful histories are recast as heroic achievements, while assaults on democracy are reimagined as acts of patriotism. The Confederate rebellion is transformed from a defense of slavery into a noble cause, much as the January 6 attack on the U.S. Capitol is increasingly celebrated by its defenders as a patriotic uprising rather than an assault on democratic institutions. Equally troubling are efforts to remake the military itself through demands that soldiers be trained for loyalty to political leaders rather than to constitutional principles. Here, power seeks not only to command institutions but also to militarize knowledge, memory, and civic identity. Universities have a crucial responsibility to resist such distortions by defending historical truth, critical inquiry, and the capacity to distinguish education from propaganda.

As Kevin Baker notes, military solutions increasingly displace diplomacy, democratic institutions, and other civic responses to social problems. Within a culture saturated by militarism, aggression is celebrated as prevention, repression is justified in the name of security, and military force is invoked to discipline dissent and erode democratic values. Under such conditions, education is organized less around the imperatives of democratic culture than around the demands of the arms industry, surveillance systems, technological acceleration, and the national security state.

These developments become even more troubling when they intersect with the ongoing marketization of higher education. At its best, higher education functions as a democratic public sphere, a place where students learn to think critically, question authority, engage history, and imagine alternative democratic futures. Yet under the pressures of neoliberalism, universities have increasingly abandoned this mission. Education is now often reduced to job training, students are treated as consumers, faculty are deskilled and casualized, and learning is defined largely in instrumental terms. Questions about how education might nurture civic courage, ethical imagination, social responsibility, and democratic agency are increasingly sidelined in a market-driven university culture.

Yet the assault on higher education is not only economic. It is also ideological and political. In recent years, a growing chorus of liberal and conservative critics has claimed that universities have lost their way, charging that the humanities and critical scholarship have corrupted higher education through ideology and activism. Under the seductive language of “reform,” “balance,” “civility,” “institutional trust,” and “neutrality,” these critics present themselves as defenders of academic integrity while advancing a profoundly reactionary project. In some cases, liberal critics go so far as to treat “social justice” as a threat to scholarship rather than asking how power, exclusion, race, gender, class, empire, and inequality have always shaped what counts as knowledge. Their calls for neutrality, which function as a cover for depoliticization, do not protect intellectual freedom; they align with a broader assault on critical thought, historical memory, and democratic culture. They are aghast at the notion put forward by Thomas Chatterton Williams that “For humanities departments [and higher education in general] to continue to matter, they must challenge the modern world rather than accommodate it.” In doing so, they obscure the far more dangerous attacks on higher education coming from the right: censorship, book bans, assaults on DEI programs, the repression of student protest, and efforts to align universities with corporate, state, and military interests.

Critical scholarship is condemned as ideological, while militarized research, donor influence, state-directed threats of defunding, and forms of ideological indoctrination are celebrated as common sense. The real danger is not that universities have become too political, but that they are being stripped of their democratic mission and transformed into institutions that normalize conformity, surveillance, militarization, and authoritarian power. Higher education is not under attack because it has been ruined by the left. On the contrary, it is under assault by the Trump administration and a broader network of far right forces precisely because it keeps alive a dangerous truth: education is not merely about credentials, careers, or conformity to the status quo. At its best, it cultivates the capacity for critical judgment, informed dissent, compassion, and democratic agency. What authoritarian movements fear most is not ideological indoctrination but an educated public capable of questioning power, holding authority accountable, and imagining a more just future.

Militarization deepens anti-democratic tendencies. Research is increasingly tied to military applications, geopolitical competition, and outside funding rather than to the public good. Universities adopt the language of security, risk management, efficiency, and competitiveness while corporate and military values increasingly shape institutional priorities. As a Simons Foundation policy briefing warns, militarization has increasingly become a “default response” to political instability and global insecurity, reinforcing a culture in which social problems are framed through the logics of surveillance, strategic competition, and military preparedness rather than diplomacy, public investment, and democratic cooperation. As Professor Catherine Lutz notes, such actions run the risk of eroding legal and moral boundaries. In such a climate, higher education loses its civic character and becomes subordinated to the interests of the warfare state and defense industries.

As universities become increasingly tied to military and security logics, they risk abandoning their civic purpose in favor of a pedagogy of permanent emergency, one that privileges surveillance, strategic competition, and technological domination over critical inquiry, civic imagination, ethical responsibility, and social solidarity. What disappears in this militarized vision of higher education is the conviction that universities should cultivate informed citizens capable of holding power accountable rather than simply servicing the imperatives of the national security state.

Equally troubling, militarization reshapes the culture of the university itself. Militarized institutions reward conformity, secrecy, technocratic thinking, and instrumental rationality. Ethical questions about violence, disposability, colonialism, and state power are pushed aside in favor of managerial efficiency and national competitiveness. Students protesting Israel’s war in Gaza, settler colonialism, genocide, sexual violence, or war crimes are too often met not with dialogue but with surveillance, administrative repression, and policing.


The dominance of war-like values in both higher education and the wider civic culture prepares “civil society itself for the production of violence.”

In such instances, the university ceases to function as a space for critical engagement and becomes instead an extension of a broader authoritarian culture. As scholar John Gills notes, the dominance of war-like values in both higher education and the wider civic culture prepares “civil society itself for the production of violence.” In this way, universities risk becoming agents of militarized socialization rather than sites of democratic education. Such developments raise not only political and educational concerns but also urgent ethical questions about the kinds of institutions that universities are becoming and the values they choose to endorse.

The militarization of higher education raises a profound ethical question: What happens when universities enter into partnerships with military institutions while remaining silent about documented human rights abuses associated with those same institutions? Such silence is never politically neutral. It suggests that violations of human rights can be overlooked, rationalized, or normalized when carried out in the name of security, defense, or national interest.

This issue extends beyond universities themselves and raises broader questions about the responsibilities of democratic governments. As Canada, among other countries, deepens military cooperation with allies and expands investments in defense industries, it cannot exempt those relationships from ethical scrutiny. If credible allegations of war crimes, torture, collective punishment, or sexual violence are ignored in the name of strategic alliances or national security, democratic principles are hollowed out from within. Universities, precisely because they are charged with fostering critical inquiry and ethical judgment, have a responsibility to challenge such silences rather than reproduce them.

These ethical concerns become especially urgent when universities maintain relationships with institutions implicated in serious human rights abuses. The issue is particularly troubling in light of allegations regarding the use of sexual violence against Palestinians. Writing in The New York Times, Nicholas Kristof noted that while there is no evidence that Israeli leaders explicitly order rape, United Nations investigators have reported that sexual violence has become one of Israel’s “standard operating procedures” in the mistreatment of Palestinians. Other human rights organizations have reached similarly disturbing conclusions.

Such allegations also raise broader concerns about how security regimes can be used not only against occupied populations but also against those who challenge state policies. Reuters reported that organizers of a flotilla attempting to deliver humanitarian aid to Gaza alleged that some activists detained by Israeli authorities experienced physical abuse and that at least 15 reported sexual assaults, including allegations of rape. Zeteo provided shocking and wrenching video testimonies from some of the activists, largely ignored by Western media. Whatever the final findings regarding these allegations, they underscore the need for independent scrutiny of security institutions and the dangers of granting them unquestioned legitimacy in the name of national defense. When accusations of abuse are met with silence rather than investigation, the boundaries between security, impunity, and state-sanctioned violence become increasingly blurred.

If universities claim to uphold principles of human rights, social responsibility, and ethical inquiry, they cannot selectively ignore such evidence when it implicates states or institutions with which they maintain research, military, or security partnerships. To do so risks transforming universities from spaces of critical inquiry into institutions that legitimate power while remaining silent about its abuses. At stake is more than the question of particular research contracts. It is the moral integrity of higher education itself.

These concerns are not confined to particular institutions or isolated abuses. They are symptomatic of a broader culture in which militarized values increasingly shape public life, political discourse, and social priorities. From sporting events and military recruitment in schools to popular films, social media spectacles, gun culture, and state-sponsored propaganda, aggression, domination, and war are normalized as features of everyday life.

Nowhere is this more visible than in the influence of Trump’s Secretary of Defense, Pete Hegseth, who celebrates “maximum lethality, not tepid legality” and wraps militarism in the language of white Christian nationalism and religious righteousness. As Jasper Craven observes, Hegseth champions a form of “military manliness” stripped of any ethical center. Such a worldview elevates domination as a virtue, defines violence as a moral ideal, and transforms, in Craven’s words, “the Pentagon into the staging ground for an ideological religious crusade.” As these values circulate through culture and public institutions, they increasingly shape higher education itself, influencing not only what universities teach but also the forms of knowledge they produce, fund, and legitimate.


Universities cannot claim to defend democracy while simultaneously aligning themselves with industries and state policies organized for state violence, war, and imperial aggression.

At the same time, vast intellectual, scientific, and financial resources are being diverted from urgent public needs such as climate justice, public health, democratic education, and social welfare toward the expansion of military technologies and security infrastructures. In the process, the arms industry reaps enormous profits while universities increasingly risk becoming laboratories for aggression rather than institutions dedicated to civic responsibility, ethical imagination, and the common good.

Defenders of militarized partnerships insist that universities must remain pragmatic and “neutral” in securing funding and advancing national interests. But neutrality in such cases is largely a myth. Universities cannot claim to defend democracy while simultaneously aligning themselves with industries and state policies organized for state violence, war, and imperial aggression. Higher education has no legitimate ethical mandate to function as a research arm of militarized power.
Universities Must Refuse to Become Laboratories for War

The issue is not whether universities are political, but what kind of politics they embody and in whose interests they function. In an age marked by rising authoritarianism, widening inequality, climate catastrophe, and endless wars, universities cannot escape matters of power and values, and they must decide whether they will serve democracy or militarized power. Nor can educators retreat into the call for neutrality. At stake here is more than institutional policy. It is the fate of the university as a democratic institution. Few writers understood these dangers more clearly than Toni Morrison, who warned: “If the university does not take seriously and rigorously its role as a guardian of wider civic freedoms, as interrogator of more and more complex ethical problems, as servant and preserver of deeper democratic practices, then some other regime or menage of regimes will do it for us, in spite of us, and without us.”

Higher education may be one of the few public spheres left where knowledge, values, and learning can nurture radical hope, civic responsibility, informed agency, critical thinking, and substantive democracy. The struggle against the militarization of Canadian universities is therefore not merely a fight over funding priorities. It is a struggle over whether education will serve democracy or become an extension of the warfare state. Activists from groups like World Beyond War Canada and the Canadian Federation of Students are right to insist that genuine security comes not from militarism and permanent war, but from investing in education, housing, public health, and the social good.

Universities must refuse their transformation into laboratories for war, surveillance, and technological domination. At stake is whether higher education will further accommodate militarized and authoritarian power or become a crucial site of resistance, critical consciousness, and democratic possibility, one that refuses to confuse security with fear, civic responsibility with obedience, and education with the demands of war and domination. In an age when militarism increasingly shapes culture, politics, and everyday life, universities must remain among the few institutions willing to defend critical inquiry, civic responsibility, and democratic freedom against the expanding reach of the warfare state.



This article is licensed under Creative Commons (CC BY-NC-ND 4.0), and you are free to share and republish under the terms of the license.

Henry A. Giroux

Henry A. Giroux currently holds the McMaster University Chair for Scholarship in the Public Interest in the English and Cultural Studies Department and is the Paulo Freire Distinguished Scholar in Critical Pedagogy. His most recent books include: The Terror of the Unforeseen (Los Angeles Review of books, 2019), On Critical Pedagogy, 2nd edition (Bloomsbury, 2020); Race, Politics, and Pandemic Pedagogy: Education in a Time of Crisis (Bloomsbury 2021); Pedagogy of Resistance: Against Manufactured Ignorance (Bloomsbury 2022) and Insurrections: Education in the Age of Counter-Revolutionary Politics (Bloomsbury, 2023), and coauthored with Anthony DiMaggio, Fascism on Trial: Education and the Possibility of Democracy (Bloomsbury, 2025). Giroux is also a member of Truthout’s board of directors.

Wednesday, May 13, 2026

Why J Street Does Not Go Far Enough




by  | May 13, 2026 

An illegal auction of stolen Palestinian land at an elite Upper East Side synagogue, and the swift condemnations from groups like J Street launched against New Yorkers who attempted to protest it, reveal the Zionist rot at the heart of the American Jewish elite establishment that is bastardizing and corrupting the religion from within, and why liberal Zionist groups present only an impotent challenge to it.

“The Great Israeli Real Estate Event,” held last Tuesday at Park East Synagogue on Manhattan’s Upper East Side, was organized to assist prospective buyers in the United States, Canada, and the U.K. purchase land in the occupied West Bank, with the expo’s website advertising land for sale in Gush Etzion, a cluster of West Bank settlements illegal under international law. At least one company present, Harey Zahav, displayed maps and brochures advertising properties in Kfar Eldad, Karnei Shomron, and other West Bank settlements. Karnei Shomron is the subject of a $633 million Israeli government development agreement to nearly triple its population, an effort that Israeli Construction Minister Haim Katz called “a clear policy of settlement and building the land of our forefathers,” with a separate land designation designed to prevent Arab construction in the area.

In response to those illegal land sales, New Yorkers used their First Amendment rights to congregate at Park Avenue Synagogue to protest the contentious practice, with demonstrators arguing that it is inappropriate to use a religious institution to shield what is purely a political activity.

As Jewish Voice for Peace explained in their call to action statement, such “events are attempting to cynically shield themselves from protest by holding their sales at a synagogue. No one should enable the sale of stolen land, let alone a religious institution.”

Though instantly labeled antisemitic – the label reflexively deployed against any criticism of Israeli policy regardless of the identity of the critic, and one applied with particular cynicism given that many of the demonstrators outside Park East were themselves Jewish –  those protesters were fairly targeting what has become the broader ideological capture of elite American Jewish institutions by a foreign government engaged in genocide and apartheid, and their transformation into a financial backbone for the Greater Israel Project.

Since 2023, American synagogues and Jewish federations have raised millions for ZAKA – founded by an accused serial rapist known in Jerusalem’s Orthodox community as “the Haredi Jeffrey Epstein,” exposed by Haaretz for defrauding the Israeli government, and the originating source for the beheaded babies hoax Joe Biden and Donald Trump continue to repeat – and for its rival United Hatzalah, whose director told a room of Republican Jewish donors in Las Vegas that Hamas had baked a baby alive in an oven. The Jewish National Fund, a tax-exempt American nonprofit institutionally embedded in synagogues nationwide, has for decades purchased land from which Palestinians are legally barred. Hillel International sponsors American Jewish college students on trips that include volunteering at IDF military bases. The Central Fund of Israel, JGives, and Israel Gives conduct tax-deductible fundraising for IDF units in Gaza and the West Bank through similar Jewish institutional networks that gathered at Park East last Tuesday to sell stolen land.

Israel has always depended on diaspora wealth for its survival, which is precisely why its sprawling and aggressive lobby exists. Under those conditions, what B’Tselem, Israel’s own leading human rights organization, has called “a regime of Jewish supremacy from the river to the sea” cannot be seriously challenged without directly confronting the American Jewish institutional infrastructure that bankrolls it, which is precisely what New Yorkers attempted to do last Tuesday at Park East Synagogue.

But those New Yorkers, including many Jewish ones, who showed up to protest those illegal land sales were swiftly condemned – including by J Street, the self-described “pro-Israel, pro-peace” lobby that has pitched itself as the liberal alternative to AIPAC. “Two things can be true,” J Street wrote. “Protests that glorify violence, wave Hezbollah flags and chant for the destruction of Israel are wrong. Using our synagogues to promote home sales in West Bank settlements is also wrong.”

Americans are, of course, free to “glorify violence, wave Hezbollah flags, and chant for the destruction of Israel.” That is all permissible speech which anyone on American soil has the constitutionally protected right to utter, despite an intense ongoing effort by the Israel lobby to criminalize it.

But J Street’s response to those protests – condemning both the protesters and the land sales in equal measure – is indicative of the balancing act the organization has attempted to manage, one that is unstable and contradictory, with its guiding (or rather, mis-guiding) principle that Zionism can ultimately be reformed into something that is morally good, that the solution is a better Israeli government, and that the American Jewish elite institutions which have funded settlement expansion, armed soldiers to ethnically cleanse Gaza, and laundered Israel’s atrocity propaganda bears no meaningful responsibility for what Israel does.

That incoherence was highlighted by a recent memo put out by the group that ostensibly calls for an end to unconditional U.S. aid to Israel which, even while calling for an end to certain weapons transfers, insists that the United States should continue to “sell short-range air and ballistic missile defense capabilities to Israel,” including Iron Dome and David’s Sling and Arrow, interceptors and other system components, which J Street says are “purely defensive and have saved countless civilian lives by intercepting attacks from Hamas, Hezbollah, Iran and others.”

If the purpose of J Street’s new position is to change Israeli behavior, it is not a serious one; the Iron Dome system is what allows Israel to wage its wars of aggression across seven fronts simultaneously without fear of costly retaliation from the populations it targets.

Just as unserious is J Street’s neutered and impotent critique of Israel’s current campaign in Lebanon as “Netanyahu’s and Smotrich’s” war.

“Netanyahu and Smotrich,” the group’s Senior Vice President Ilan Goldenberg wrote in a May 1st statement, “are carrying out their West Bank and Gaza playbook in southern Lebanon. We’re failing to stop them.”

Since March 2, Israel has killed over 2,700 people in Lebanon and displaced more than 1.2 million. Israel’s defense minister demanded for southern Lebanon to be ethnically cleansed following “the model of Gaza” and images published by local journalists demonstrate that is exactly what IDF soldiers have done, with complete U.S. backing. Haaretz reports that Israeli soldiers are engaged in extensive looting of private homes and businesses in southern Lebanon, with many soldiers justifying theft by telling themselves the property will be demolished anyway. As Haaretz puts it, the soldiers are “stakeholders in destruction and in prolonging the war.”

Yet one would believe from J Street’s statement that Benjamin Netanyahu and Bezalel Smotrich are single-handedly demolishing entire villages in southern Lebanon — and not the conscript army and Israeli civilian volunteers who are committing those crimes on a daily basis.

The conclusions that J Street cannot bring itself to reach are now being stated openly by a growing number of American Jews, particularly younger ones, who have watched their communal institutions mobilize in defense of an apartheid state and the genocide it has just committed. That the protesters outside Park East are labeled antisemitic is a measure of how completely the establishment has fused Jewish identity with Israeli state policy – a fusion that younger American Jews are increasingly rejecting. Until American Jewish institutions can separate themselves from Zionism, the antisemitism charge will only grow cheaper, and the religion it has been weaponized to protect will grow hollower.

Harrison Berger is a correspondent at The American Conservative. He has contributed to Drop Site News, The Nation, and Responsible Statecraft. Previously, he was a researcher and producer for System Update with Glenn Greenwald. His work focuses on civil liberties and U.S. foreign policy. He studied Political Science and Russian Studies at Union College (NY).



Officials and Activists Are Working to Overturn Illinois’s Anti-BDS Law. Could Their Campaign Become a National Model?

Source: Mondoweiss

Since 2014, U.S. lawmakers have introduced over 200 bills targeting the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions (BDS) movement. The vast majority of these efforts have failed to pass, but more than 30 states have adopted anti-BDS laws.

The first state-based measure to take specific action against Israel boycotts was passed in Illinois in 2015; 49-0 in the Senate and 102-0 in the House.  “This historic legislation is an important first step in the fight against boycotts of Israel and I hope other states move quickly to follow our lead,” declared then-Governor Bruce Rauner after signing it into law.

Rauner’s hope was quickly realized, as the right-wing American Legislative Exchange Council (ALEC) adopted the Illinois law as a model for pushing anti-BDS laws in other states. According to Palestine Legal, 38 states have enacted laws or executive orders designed to designed to penalize the boycott movement.

Many of these measures have had a significant economic impact. In 2021, the Illinois board overseeing state employee pensions voted to bar funds to the company Unilever over Ben & Jerry’s’s decision to limit sales of its ice cream in Israel. A a result of the ruling, the state was forced to sell between $150–200 million in pension holdings and activating nearly $1 billion in coordinated state divestments nationwide.

Now, Illinois officials and activists are pushing the Illinois Human Rights Advocacy Protection Act, or HB 2723. The bill would repeal the state’s anti-BDS law and potentially serve as a model for legislatures across the country. The effort currently has 22 cosponsors in Illinois House and 12 in state’s Senate.

The bill’s chief sponsor is Palestinian-American Rep. Abdelnasser Rashid.

At a recent hearing on the bill, Rashid explained how the the existing law violates the First Amendment.

“This law uses the retirement security of teachers, university workers, state employees and judges to punish peaceful protest,” said Rashid. It coerces American companies—including Illinois companies—into changing their lawful behavior to satisfy a foreign government. And it does all of this with no fiduciary duty, no published rules, no formal appeal, and no audit.

“Boycotts are foundational to who we are as Americans, are an instrumental tool in achieving democratic change, and are as American as baseball and apple pie,” declared Chicago attorney Richard Goldwasser. “Penalizing the politically motivated boycott..is of a piece with the growing fascism in our country.”

HB 2723 is opposed by a number of pro-Israel groups, including the Anti-Defamation League (ADL). During the hearing Rebecca Weininger, the Senior Regional Director ADL Midwest, claimed that “anti-Israel sentiment was powering the rise of anti-Jewish violence.”

“This committee should not tolerate antisemitism dressed up as a foreign policy critique,” said Weininger.

Andrew Herrera, a lobbyist for the Illinois Coalition for Human Rights told Mondoweiss that he expects the bill to succeed if state leadership has the political will to consider it.

“This is the kind of bill that once it moves, it wins,” said Herrera. “Were going to cruise through both chambers.”

“This is narrative fight,” he continued. “It has become impossible to publicly support genocide, ethnic cleansing, and needless war in Iran. It’s about shifting the national conversation and and showing people that this messaging works with voters.”

Recent polling backs up Herrera’s assertion.

According to Pew Research poll from last month, 60% of U.S. adults have a negative view of Israel, up from 53% last year. The same survey found that a majority of Democrats and Republicans under the age of 50 now view the country negatively.

Rebekah Levin, a local activist and Jewish Voice for Peace member who has been organizing around the repeal for years, also cited public opinion while speaking with Mondowiess, and said it had undeniably shifted the position of lawmakers.

“When we first started doing this work in the legislature our job was to educate people who voted for it,” she explained. “Over the past 2 years with the genocide in Gaza, the war in Iran and gas prices going up so high legislators finally saw this as something they could take action on and I would guess they see what’s happening nationwide, not just within the Democratic party at this point, but within the Republican party as well.”

Levin says that, if the anti-BDS law is repealed, it could serve as a model for other activists hoping to overturn such legislation in their states.

“People in other states have reached out to us,” she said. “They want to know what we did and how we did it. “If we overturn this it would be a boost to other states. It’s a powerful message. This is why pro-Israel groups are afraid of this passing. It’s about more than just Illinois.”

These sentiments were echoed by Rep. Rashid.

“Thats what makes the stakes so high,” said Rashid. “I believe this will have a domino effect, we are already talking to states about how to run a campaign. I’m hoping these conversations begin in earnest in other states as they find ways to repeal their laws. 

“It is a challenge as it would be many in other states, but I’m hopeful we will set a positive precedent of repealing this shameful law,” he added.

Illinois’s legislative sessions runs until May 31, and proponents of the bill are hoping it gets a hearing before then.

This article was originally published by Mondoweiss; please consider supporting the original publication, and read the original version at the link above.Email

Michael Arria is a U.S. correspondent for Mondoweiss. His work has appeared in In These Times, The Appeal, and Truthout. He is the author of Medium Blue: The Politics of MSNBC.


No, It’s Not Antisemitic to Charge Israel With Genocide and It’s Dangerous to Say It Is

It posits that Israel represents all Jews and therefore criticism of Israel becomes criticism of the Jewish people and it denies the victims of Israel’s behaviors their legitimate right to speak of their pain.


Students protest in support of Palestine during the University of Michigan’s Spring Commencement ceremony on May 4, 2024 at Michigan Stadium in Ann Arbor, Michigan.
(Photo by Nic Antaya/Getty Images)



James Zogby
May 12, 2026
Common Dreams

Is it antisemitic to say that Israel is committing genocide in Gaza? More generally, is it “hurtful and insensitive” for someone to acknowledge the suffering that Israel has inflicted on the Palestinian people? In recent weeks, actions by two different institutions of higher learning brought these two questions to the forefront.

On April 15, a group of faculty and student organizations at Le Moyne College in Syracuse, New York, hosted celebrated Pulitzer Prize-winning writer Mosab Abu Toha to speak at the campus. During his appearance, to set the stage for the poems he was to read, Abu Toha shared his experiences living in Gaza during the start of the Israeli assault. He told of the members of his and his wife’s families who had been killed in Israel’s bombing campaigns. Entire families erased, neighborhoods laid waste, memories eradicated. It was, he stated, a genocide.

Days after event, Le Moyne’s president issued a statement apologizing for the discomfort that Abu Toha’s remarks may have created for some in the college community. The letter noted that his use of the word genocide in connection with the state of Israel caused “real hurt” and was leaving “some members of our community to feel unwelcome.” The president concluded by affirming that “antisemitism, along with all forms of bigotry and hate, has no place at Le Moyne.”

Abu Toha responded to the president’s letter with an “open letter” of his own, rejecting the implication that using the word genocide to describe Israel’s actions could be termed antisemitic.

It is worth noting that the assumption underlying this assertion fits hand-in-glove with the claim of real antisemites who argue that the consequences of Israel’s bad behaviors can legitimately be visited on all Jews.

“Seriously?” he asked. “Are the crimes of the Israeli state representative of all Jewish people? I personally refuse to believe that is the case… I never used the word ‘Jewish’ during the entire event; I refuse to conflate the faith of Judaism with the actions of Israel.”

He concluded: “If anyone told you they felt ‘hurt’ because I used the word genocide, then I ask you: How should I feel? How should my wife feel after losing her father? How should my three children feel after losing their grandfather?”

And then, this past weekend, the University of Michigan held its commencement ceremonies. One of the speakers was the president of the faculty senate. He began his short but eloquent remarks by noting that while the university celebrates its athletes and their accomplishments, there are other heroes who should also be celebrated—those who challenged the stale and unjust status quo of the university by opening the doors to inclusion and understanding.

He began by mentioning a young woman who in 1858 challenged the school’s opposition to enrolling women as students. He went on to note the first Jewish faculty member and the Black Action Movement that pressed the university to expand their curriculum to honor the black experience, and closed by recognizing the “student activists… who sacrificed much to open our hearts to the injustices happening in Gaza.”

His remarks were so beautifully constructed and presented that they elicited a roar of approval from those in attendance. The video of the event appearing on the university’s website shows his colleagues and administrators applauding the speech.

Within a few days, the same university president who is seen applauding issued a letter denouncing the professor’s speech as “hurtful and insensitive” and “inappropriate.”

(To avoid “further controversy” the university removed the video of the event—in which the president is seen applauding the speech—from the website).

The question that must be asked, in addition to those noted above, is what is the logic behind this claim that the remarks of both Abu Toha and the faculty senate president were hurtful to the point of being antisemitic?

The place to begin is by asking: “What is antisemitism?” The simplest and clearest definition is that antisemitism is hatred of, stereotyping of, or discrimination against Jewish people because they are Jews. Like other forms of bigotry, it claims that there are inherent characteristics or behaviors that are shared by all Jews, simply because they are Jewish.

Given this, the only way that criticism of Israeli actions can constitute antisemitism is if the critic implies that Israel does what it does because it is Jewish and “that’s the way Jews are,” or if the person making the claim of antisemitism maintains that because Israel says it is a Jewish state that whatever it does represents all Jews and therefore criticism of Israeli policies is the same as criticism of the Jewish people.

This latter position has long been propagated by pro-Israel organizations. Until recently, this proposition was mostly rejected, but it has now come to gain acceptance. It is dangerous precisely because it posits that Israel represents all Jews and therefore criticism of Israel becomes criticism of the Jewish people. It is worth noting that the assumption underlying this assertion fits hand-in-glove with the claim of real antisemites who argue that the consequences of Israel’s bad behaviors can legitimately be visited on all Jews. Interestingly, this is the same logic that has long plagued Arab Americans who have been victims of hate crimes because it was claimed that their ethnicity or religion made them legitimate targets in response to the actions of some Arab groups in the Middle East.

The other consequence is that, as Abu Toha correctly notes, it denies the victims of Israel’s behaviors their legitimate right to speak of their pain and call out, with specificity, the agent who caused it because of the hurt that might cause those who support Israel—or in the case of the University of Michigan, to deny the right of students to empathize with and demand that Palestinian victims be heard, because acknowledging Palestinian pain might also cause hurt feelings.


Our work is licensed under Creative Commons (CC BY-NC-ND 3.0). Feel free to republish and share widely.


James Zogby

Dr. James J. Zogby is the author of Arab Voices (2010) and the founder and president of the Arab American Institute (AAI), a Washington, D.C.-based organization which serves as the political and policy research arm of the Arab American community. Since 1985, Dr. Zogby and AAI have led Arab American efforts to secure political empowerment in the U.S. Through voter registration, education and mobilization, AAI has moved Arab Americans into the political mainstream. Dr. Zogby has also been personally active in U.S. politics for many years; in 1984 and 1988 he served as Deputy Campaign manager and Senior Advisor to the Jesse Jackson Presidential campaign. In 1988, he led the first ever debate on Palestinian statehood at that year's Democratic convention in Atlanta, GA. In 2000, 2008, and 2016 he served as an advisor to the Gore, Obama, and Sanders presidential campaigns.
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A Future Beyond Israeli Genocide in Palestine

Source: Jacobin

In the last two and a half years, Israel has intensified its core project of realizing a “Greater Israel.” Its ongoing drive to eliminate Palestinians since the 1948 Nakba has escalated into full-scale genocidal violence in Gaza. The intensification of Israel’s colonial violence has also included a forced displacement campaign in the West Bank unprecedented since the 1967 war, a renewed assault on the political rights of Palestinians in Israel, and the transformation of Israeli prisons into a network of torture camps in which unspeakable cruelty is the order of the day.

Israel’s large‑scale attacks on Lebanon and Iran, and its use of the “Gaza doctrine” — particularly in Lebanon — have made the systematic targeting of civilians, neighborhoods, schools, and hospitals, and the infliction of mass destruction, suffering, and death, a regional reality. At the same time, the US-Israel war on Iran has caused an international economic crisis that underlines how genocidal regimes pose a threat on a global scale.

It is difficult to imagine a future in the region beyond this horrific reality without the Israeli state, supported by a large majority of its Jewish citizens, facing accountability. Accountability demands centering the experiences and knowledge of Palestinians confronting Israeli elimination, yet the Jewish supremacy and anti-Palestinian racism that fuel the genocide also drive the silencing of Palestinians and their activism to end it. The result is that mostly Jewish voices critical of Israel manage to gain attention through the cracks of this censorship and suppression, though they offer little in the way of thinking about accountability.

This is the case, most recently, with Israeli-American Holocaust scholar Omer Bartov’s latest book, Israel: What Went Wrong? Just out in English and slated to appear in numerous other languages, the book asks readers to think about Israel’s ongoing genocide in Gaza through a narrative that begins with the Holocaust and antisemitism. Bartov argues that Zionism emerged as a project of liberating Jews from persecution and destruction, but it changed with the establishment of Israel in 1948, when it turned into the state ideology, becoming increasingly exclusionary and violently ethnonationalist, ultimately culminating in genocide.

In fact, Palestinians and even Zionists understood Zionism as an exclusionary, settler colonial, and violent ethnonationalist ideology well before 1948. We know this, for instance, from the work of Palestinian scholars like sociologist Areej Sabbagh-Khoury, who shows in her book Colonizing Palestine: The Zionist Left and the Making of the Palestinian Nakba how left-wing Zionists, under British colonial auspices, took an active role in the dispossession of Palestinians through the establishment of kibbutz colonies in the Jezreel Valley/Marj Ibn Amer frontier area in the 1920s and ’30s.

If Zionists on the left talked about coexistence with Palestinians even as they displaced them, Zionists on the right dispensed early on with such discourse. Ze’ev Jabotinsky’s well-known 1923  essay “The Iron Wall” set the tone with an explicit acknowledgment of Zionism as a settler-colonial movement that aims to remove indigenous Palestinian Arabs to create a Jewish state.

It is impossible to understand the 1948 Nakba without considering this eliminationist Zionist consensus that had formed in the preceding three decades and which informed Zionist settlement and actions well before the Holocaust. The 1948 Nakba furthermore marked the birth of the Israeli state as clearly exclusionary, racist, and violent; to adapt the language of Bartov’s title, the Israeli state emerged as foundationally wrong.

Bartov, who counts among erstwhile liberal Zionists, rejects this position. His argument about the Gaza genocide functions in a similar way as his argument about Zionism. He eventually found it difficult during Israel’s live streamed genocide to dismiss the charge of genocide. For him, the invasion of Rafah in May 2024 signaled Israel’s turn to genocide. This means that Israel’s campaign in its initial months — its deadliest phase — was not genocidal, according to Bartov, even as he acknowledges that Israeli political and military leaders expressed clear genocidal intent at the time. This qualification of the genocide determination reflects Bartov’s rosy view of pre-state Zionism, as it aims to conceal the historical continuity between the eliminatory logic of Zionism and the Nakba and the genocidal violence unfolding in Gaza since October 2023.

Bartov argues, accordingly, that “the focus on the functional reality of [Zionist] settlement in Palestine largely misses the ideological and emotional motivations of this [Zionist] movement, as well as the underlying self‑perception of generations of Zionist activists and supporters.” Within this narrative, the victims of Zionism — now in its genocidal phase — have erred by judging Zionism through their lived experience of its dispossession and violence; instead, they should have been sufficiently “attuned to the aspirations of Europe’s Jewish refugees.” This framing renders the Palestinian and Arab anti‑colonial struggle — beginning with the Arab Revolt of 1936, or even earlier — a hostile act of aggression against Jewish settlers in Palestine, thereby creating a false equivalence between the colonized and the colonizer.

We also know that while Jewish refugees were seeking a sanctuary, the Zionist movement funneling them to Palestine aimed for their migration to create a Jewish demographic majority that would eventually facilitate Zionist control of the country. Zionists thus turned refugees into settlers. What is more, at least some of Europe’s Jewish refugees who arrived in Palestine during or immediately after the 1948 war understood this, and that the fledgling Jewish state reproduced the kind of exclusionary violence that they had experienced in Europe. It was a very bitter liberation for them, if they perceived it as such at all.

However one understands the multiple perspectives of Jewish refugees in 1948, Bartov’s approach affirms racialized epistemic hierarchies, sidelining the perspectives, knowledge, and voices of Palestinians who have faced Israel’s colonial and eliminatory violence before and after 1948, including those who have identified Israel’s attack on Gaza as genocide from the very beginning.

Acknowledgement Without Accountability?

Racialized hierarchies shape not only how the causes of the genocide in Gaza are discussed, but also how pathways forward are imagined. One would expect the recognition of genocide to be followed by a clear call for justice and accountability. This includes the right of victims of colonial violence and genocide to see those who targeted their loved ones and society brought to justice: those who committed the crimes, those who ordered them, and those who incited them. Victims are also entitled to an official account of what happened. The state itself must be held accountable for these grave crimes.

One is thus left to wonder why Bartov’s book contains no clear call for legal accountability, especially in light of the recent piercing of the veil of impunity that has long shielded Israel from accountability for crimes committed against the Palestinian people.

Why does he not explicitly support accountability efforts before the International Criminal Court? Bartov does refer to the 2024 Advisory Opinion issued by the International Court of Justice (ICJ) on the illegality of Israel’s presence in the West Bank and Gaza, but he does so without explaining that it calls on third states neither to recognize nor to aid or assist in maintaining this illegal situation — thereby opening a window of opportunity for the imposition of effective measures to pressure Israel to cease and remedy its violations of peremptory norms of international law. Instead, Bartov warns that if Israel does not change course, it will face isolation akin to that suffered by apartheid South Africa.

Many liberal Zionists share Bartov’s concern. The celebrated Israeli writer David Grossman, for example, told the Italian daily la Repubblica in early August 2025 that “Israel’s curse began with the occupation of the Palestinian territories after 1967” — thus erasing the 1948 Nakba — and that he remains “desperately committed” to the two-state solution; that is, a Jewish state and a Palestinian state with “no weapons.” Mainstream liberal media also seems desperately committed to Nakba denial and a Jewish state, even if cursed, which explains the space it affords to people like Bartov on opinion pages, while its reporting largely reproduces anti-Palestinian racism.

Bartov does go further than other liberal Zionists in criticizing Israel and Zionism. He now sees no future for Zionism, as it has become an ideology of genocide, although he rejects the label “anti-Zionist.” Consequently, he cannot imagine a future without a Jewish state, albeit different from the current one. For this sort of criticism and his belated recognition of the Gaza genocide, Bartov has faced intense hostility, including being labeled a Jewish “traitor” and other epithets commonly hurled at Jews who refuse to repeat the talking points of the Israeli state and major Jewish communal organizations.

Yet his visions for Palestine/Israel are largely centered on salvaging Israel as a Jewish-majority state from a feared future or “nightmare” marked by the exodus of the educated and skilled, increasing international isolation, and the prospect of sanctions. What remains unaddressed is the moral and political imperative of accountability for historical and structural injustices inflicted on Palestinians by the Zionist settler‑colonial regime since its inception.

Bartov’s “fundamental rethinking of the relationship between the seven million Jews and seven million Palestinians who live between the river and the sea” mostly entails ending the war in Gaza, rebuilding it, and replacing Hamas’s control of the Strip, with the ultimate goal of creating a Palestinian state in the West Bank and Gaza that would be viable only as part of a confederation with Israel. In this scenario, based on Dahlia Scheindlin’s writing, Gaza could become “the Dubai of the Mediterranean,” and a confederation model is presented as an alternative to the failed Oslo logic of the two‑state solution.

According to this vision, Palestinian refugees forcibly displaced during the ongoing Nakba may return as Palestinian citizens to the West Bank or Gaza, whereas in Israel they may be granted only residency rights. Their “rights” inside Israel will be analogous to those afforded to Israeli Jewish colonizers living in the West Bank: they would retain their Israeli citizenship and be permitted to reside in the West Bank not as citizens, but as residents, provided they accept Palestinian sovereignty.

Palestinian refugees forcibly expelled from their homeland are thus granted the same package of rights inside Israel as those guaranteed to West Bank settlers inside a future Palestinian state. According to this vision, Palestinian refugees may return to Haifa, Yaffa, Safad, and Lydda as tolerated guests, not as beneficiaries of the right to self-determination in the homeland from which Israel had expelled them. While they might be allowed to reside there and vote in municipal elections, they would have no right to benefit from the land and resources that belonged to them before the Nakba for the development of their communities. Nor would they be recognized as part of the political community entrusted with determining the political, economic, and cultural future of their own homeland.

Bartov misses how relegating Palestinian refugees to a status comparable to that of West Bank settlers — active participants in a criminal settlement policy — reaffirms a colonial logic, especially when this vision says nothing about restitution or reparations.

It is telling that Bartov draws on a recent scheme formulated by Scheindlin, an Israeli Jew who grew up in the United States, even though a Palestinian alternative exists: the plan by the Palestine Land Society, under the leadership of Salman Abu Sitta. It contains detailed and viable plans for refugee return, developed in consultation with refugees and their descendants, that allow return inside the Green Line without requiring any major relocation of Israelis.

“Alleviating the fear of demographic imbalances,” as Bartov puts it, lies at the heart of the plan that he supports. In practical terms, this means that more than thirteen million Palestinians would be granted 22 percent of Mandatory Palestine to exercise their collective national aspirations and rights, while approximately two million Palestinians who hold Israeli citizenship are reduced to a minority, not an indigenous group entitled to self-determination.

A similar position has been adopted by the political movement Land for All. In its program, the movement affirms that the State of Palestine would have the sovereign power to grant citizenship to Palestinian refugees. Upon receiving Palestinian citizenship, refugees would be able to travel freely to Israel “for work, tourism, and residence.” More importantly, to avoid “inundation,” an agreement would be reached on the number of Palestinian refugees eligible for residency in Israel.

Such arrangements would secure a body politic where Israeli Jews remain a majority within 78 percent of historic Palestine, controlling its natural resources. This scheme reenacts the logic of Jewish supremacy that Zionists have long invoked to justify the forced displacement and political and physical elimination of Palestinians. The language of demography is the language of dominance.

Jewish Supremacist Frameworks

It is not surprising, then, that Bartov hails Israel’s Declaration of Independence as a missed opportunity, failing to see how it officially established a regime of Jewish supremacy by excluding Palestinians from its “We the People.” It recognizes only the exclusive natural right of the Jewish people to the land, as if Mandatory Palestine were terra nullius. Palestinians who had survived the Nakba and remained in what became Israel are treated merely as “minorities,” nominally entitled not to collective national or sovereign rights but only to “complete equality of social and political rights to all its inhabitants irrespective of religion, race, or sex.”

One might have expected the genocidal escalation of the Zionist settler‑colonial project to expose the catastrophic implications of this logic of supremacy, leading critics of Israel to abandon it once and for all. Instead, we are once again confronted with attempts to prioritize the security concerns of the colonizers at the expense of the colonized, now articulated through the language of demography. The security concerns of the colonized — and the imperative of providing the victims of colonial genocidal violence with the international legal guarantees of non‑repetition — are either entirely absent or, at best, relegated to the margins.

Bartov concludes his discussion of this vision with a rather odd comment on how, absent serious US pressure on Israel, Germany could serve as the main force pushing Israel in this direction. The reality is that Germany has worked mostly to push Israel in the genocide direction — by providing Israel with military support, depicting Palestinians as Nazis, and violently silencing and shutting down pro-Palestinian activism, including police violence against Palestinians and anti-Zionist Jews on the streets of German cities. The ongoing case in the ICJ that Nicaragua brought against Germany in March 2024 for complicity with Israel’s genocide in Gaza (which Bartov does mention) renders his comment particularly problematic.

Given this qualified recognition of the genocide in Gaza, marked by the absence of any call for legal accountability and a political vision capable of comprehensively addressing the ongoing harms of the Nakba, it is hard to escape the conclusion that the outrage expressed by Bartov and other liberals over what Israel has become is not, in fact, centered on Palestinians. Rather, it remains an effort to salvage Israel, within a Jewish supremacist framework, from what liberal Zionists, however they call themselves, view as a self‑destructive course.

This article was originally published by Jacobin; please consider supporting the original publication, and read the original version at the link above.