Hey everyone, welcome back to My Weird Prompts. I am Corn, and I am sitting here in our living room in Jerusalem with my brother. It is a quiet Tuesday morning here, February twenty-first, twenty-twenty-six, but the quiet can be deceptive. You can feel the weight of the last few years in the air, even now as the city moves through its daily rhythms.
Herman Poppleberry at your service. It is good to be here, Corn, though I have to say, today is a bit of a heavier one for us. We usually tackle some pretty abstract or quirky prompts, but today’s request from Daniel hits very close to home. It is something we live with every day, especially being here in Jerusalem, but it is also a phenomenon that has been exploding globally in ways we haven’t seen in generations.
It really is. Daniel’s prompt is about the boundaries between legitimate criticism of the state of Israel and antisemitism. He is looking at the world in early twenty-twenty-six and seeing the ripples from the events of the last few years—particularly the aftermath of October seventh, twenty-twenty-three, and the long, painful war in Gaza that followed. Daniel points out that there has been a massive, documented rise in antisemitic incidents across the West, and he is asking about the yardsticks we use to tell the difference between criticizing a government and hating a people.
It is a vital question. According to the Anti-Defamation League and the Community Security Trust in the United Kingdom, antisemitic incidents hit record highs in twenty-twenty-four and twenty-twenty-five. We are talking about a level of vitriol that hasn’t been seen since the nineteen-forties. Daniel specifically mentioned the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance definition of antisemitism, which has become a massive lightning rod for debate. He wants us to dig into why that definition is seen as essential by some and dangerous by others.
I think we should start there, Herman. You have been digging into the history of the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance, or the I-H-R-A. It did not just appear out of thin air after the war started. It has a long, complicated backstory involving European monitors and international diplomats. Why is it so central to this discussion?
You are right, it has a history that goes back over twenty years. The core of what we now call the I-H-R-A definition actually started with the European Monitoring Centre on Racism and Xenophobia back in the early two-thousands. They realized they couldn’t track antisemitism if they didn’t have a common definition of what it actually was. It was eventually adopted by the I-H-R-A in twenty-sixteen as a non-legally binding working definition. As of today, in early twenty-twenty-six, over forty countries and hundreds of universities and local governments have endorsed it.
And the core definition itself is actually quite brief, right?
It is. It says: Antisemitism is a certain perception of Jews, which may be expressed as hatred toward Jews. Rhetorical and physical manifestations of antisemitism are directed toward Jewish or non-Jewish individuals and or their property, toward Jewish community institutions and religious facilities.
On its face, that seems almost impossible to argue with. It is a broad, baseline statement. But as Daniel noted, the controversy isn’t in that paragraph; it is in the eleven specific examples the I-H-R-A provides to help people identify how that hatred manifests in the real world.
Exactly. And this is where we have to be very careful and very precise. I think it is important to state right at the top, as Daniel did in his prompt, that being critical of Israeli policy is not, in and of itself, antisemitic. We live here in Jerusalem, Corn. We see the protests in the streets every Saturday night. We hear the intense, often very harsh debates within Israeli society itself about the conduct of the war, about the government’s failures, about the future of the region. If criticizing the Israeli government was antisemitic, then the majority of the Israeli population would be considered antisemitic.
That is such an important point to hammer home. The internal critique here is often far more biting than what you see on a campus in California or a street in London. But there is a line, right? There is a point where the rhetoric shifts from, I do not like this military tactic, to something much darker. So, let us look at those eleven examples. Which ones are the real friction points?
There are a few that really stand out in the current climate. One is: Denying the Jewish people their right to self-determination, e-g, by claiming that the existence of a State of Israel is a racist endeavor. Another is: Applying double standards by requiring of it a behavior not expected or demanded of any other democratic nation. And then there is the one Daniel specifically highlighted: Drawing comparisons of contemporary Israeli policy to that of the Nazis.
Let us stay on that Nazi comparison for a moment, because we have seen that everywhere lately. You see it on protest signs, in social media memes, and even from some political leaders. Why is that specifically listed as an example of antisemitism rather than just a very harsh political metaphor?
Because it is a form of Holocaust inversion. When someone equates the Star of David with the Swastika, they aren’t just criticizing a war; they are intentionally weaponizing the most profound trauma of the Jewish people against them. It is a way of saying that the victims of the greatest industrial genocide in history have become the perpetrators. It is designed to shock and to hurt, but more importantly, it serves to delegitimize the very existence of the state by branding it with the ultimate symbol of evil. It suggests that if Israel is the new Nazi Germany, then it has no right to exist and must be dismantled by any means necessary.
It also feels like a way of washing away historical guilt, doesn't it? If the Jews are the new Nazis, then the world doesn't have to feel so bad about what happened in the nineteen-forties. It is a very twisted form of rhetorical alchemy. It turns the survivor into the villain to ease the conscience of the bystander.
That is a very insightful way to put it, Corn. It is a psychological defense mechanism as much as it is a political attack. Now, Daniel also brought up the framework created by Natan Sharansky, known as the Three Ds of antisemitism. This is often used as a shorthand to navigate the I-H-R-A examples. Have you had a chance to look at how those apply to the twenty-twenty-six landscape?
I have. The Three Ds are Delegitimization, Demonization, and Double Standards. Sharansky’s argument is that while criticism of Israel is fine, the moment it crosses into one of these three categories, it becomes antisemitism. Let's break them down, because I think they provide the yardsticks Daniel is looking for. Let’s start with Delegitimization.
Delegitimization is the denial of Israel’s right to exist. It is the argument that Israel, and only Israel, is an inherently illegitimate state. You don’t see people arguing that Turkey or Pakistan or even countries with horrific human rights records like Syria should be wiped off the map and their people dispersed. When the demand for the total dissolution of a state is reserved uniquely for the world’s only Jewish state, you have to ask why. It moves beyond criticizing a government’s borders or its laws and attacks the very foundation of Jewish self-determination.
And that leads directly into Demonization.
Yes. Demonization is when Israeli actions are portrayed using ancient antisemitic tropes. This is where we see the blood libel resurface—the idea that Jews or Israelis have a unique, bloodthirsty desire to kill children. We saw this a lot during the height of the Gaza war in twenty-twenty-four. When people use imagery of Israeli leaders drinking blood or depict them as monsters from medieval folklore, they are tapping into a thousand-year-old reservoir of hate. It isn’t about the casualty count anymore; it is about the supposed inherent nature of the people.
And the third D is the Double Standard. This one is often the most subtle, but in some ways, it is the most pervasive in international politics.
It really is. The double standard is when Israel is singled out for condemnation while far worse atrocities elsewhere are ignored or even excused. Think about the United Nations. In any given year, there are more resolutions passed against Israel than against Iran, North Korea, China, and Russia combined. When a human rights activist spends one hundred percent of their energy on Israel and zero percent on the Uyghurs in China or the mass killings in Sudan, you have to wonder about the motivation. Is it really a universal concern for human rights, or is there something about the Jewish nature of the state that makes it a more appealing target?
I hear the counter-argument to that all the time, though. People say, well, we hold Israel to a higher standard because it claims to be a democracy and it is an ally of the West. Does that justify the obsession?
There is a difference between having high expectations for an ally and having a systemic obsession that ignores the rest of the world’s suffering. If your moral compass only points toward Jerusalem and never toward Tehran or Moscow or Beijing, your compass is broken. Holding a country to a standard is one thing; using that standard as a cudgel to deny its right to defend itself against groups like Hamas or Hezbollah, who openly state their genocidal intent, is another thing entirely.
That brings us to one of the most complex parts of Daniel’s prompt: the distinction between Judaism and Zionism. Daniel says he believes this distinction is often artificial. He argues that for the vast majority of Jews, Zionism is an integral part of their religious and cultural identity. Herman, how do we navigate this? Because you see a lot of people saying, I do not hate Jews, I just hate Zionists.
This is perhaps the most important linguistic shift of the last few years. For most Jews, Zionism is simply the belief in the right of the Jewish people to self-determination in their ancestral homeland. It is baked into the daily prayers, the Passover Seder, and the very fabric of the religion for three thousand years. To tell a Jew they can be Jewish but they can’t be a Zionist is like telling an Irishman he can be Irish but he has to renounce any connection to the island of Ireland.
But what about the Jewish groups who are anti-Zionist? We see them at protests, often wearing traditional clothing or holding signs that say, Not in our name. Doesn't their existence prove that the two can be separated?
It proves that there is a diversity of opinion, but it doesn't make the distinction a universal reality. You have a small minority of ultra-Orthodox Jews who believe a Jewish state can only be established by the Messiah, and you have some secular universalists who dislike the idea of nation-states in general. But when ninety to ninety-five percent of a global community says that a certain concept is core to their identity, it is incredibly patronizing for outsiders to point to the five percent and say, see? We can attack the ninety-five percent because these five percent agree with us.
It feels like tokenization. Using a small subset of a group to justify an attack on the vast majority.
Exactly. And more importantly, look at the rhetoric. When people talk about Zionist control of the media, or Zionist money, or Zionists being a cancer on the world, they are using the exact same language that was used against Jews for centuries. They’ve just done a find-and-replace on the word. It is a linguistic mask that allows people to express antisemitic ideas while maintaining a thin layer of political deniability. In twenty-twenty-six, that mask has become very transparent.
Let’s talk about the Gaza context specifically, because that is the engine driving so much of this right now. Daniel mentioned that even as a Jewish person in Israel, he finds aspects of the conduct in Gaza reprehensible. How do we maintain a space for that kind of moral critique without feeding into the antisemitic surge?
It requires a commitment to specificity. Legitimate criticism focuses on specific policies, specific leaders, and specific actions. You can say, I believe the humanitarian aid is insufficient, or I believe the military’s rules of engagement are too broad, or I believe the Prime Minister is prolonging the conflict for political gain. Those are political and moral arguments that we hear every single day in the Israeli press.
But it crosses the line when you start saying the reason for those actions is because Jews are inherently cruel, or when you use the war to justify harassing a Jewish student at a university in New York who has nothing to do with the I-D-F’s decisions.
Precisely. The moment you hold individual Jews or Jewish communities around the world responsible for the actions of the Israeli government, you are engaging in collective guilt. That is a textbook definition of prejudice. If you wouldn’t hold a random Chinese student in San Francisco responsible for the policies of the C-C-P, but you hold a Jewish student responsible for the actions of the cabinet in Jerusalem, you are applying a double standard rooted in antisemitism.
Daniel also asked if the I-H-R-A definition should be updated. Given everything that has happened between twenty-twenty-four and today, in early twenty-twenty-six, is it still fit for purpose? Or do we need something new?
There is a lot of debate about this. Some people want to add more specific examples related to social media discourse and the way algorithms amplify hate. Others point to alternative definitions, like the Jerusalem Declaration on Antisemitism, which was created by a group of scholars who felt the I-H-R-A definition was too restrictive on Palestinian rights and speech.
What is the main difference there? I know the Jerusalem Declaration has been brought up a lot in academic circles.
The Jerusalem Declaration explicitly states that supporting the Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions movement, or B-D-S, or calling Israel an apartheid state, are not, in and of themselves, antisemitic. It tries to create more breathing room for radical political critique. But the critics of the Jerusalem Declaration argue that it creates too much cover for people to use those terms as a gateway to delegitimization.
Personally, I think the I-H-R-A definition is actually quite resilient because it focuses on the intent and the tropes. It doesn't actually say you cannot criticize Israel. In fact, there is a sentence in the definition that almost everyone ignores. It says: However, criticism of Israel similar to that leveled against any other country cannot be regarded as antisemitic.
That is the most important sentence in the whole document, and you are right, it is the one that gets buried in the shouting matches. The I-H-R-A doesn't shield Israel from criticism; it shields Jews from being attacked under the guise of criticism. I don't think the definition needs an update so much as people need to actually read it in its entirety.
Now, let’s get to Daniel’s point about countries like Ireland. This is a really interesting case study. Ireland has endorsed these definitions, but Daniel asks what the point is if it doesn't translate into legislative action or policy when antisemitism actually manifests. Ireland has been one of the most vocal critics of Israel in Europe, especially over the last two years.
Ireland is a fascinating and complex case. They have a very strong historical memory of being a colonized people, and many in Ireland see the Palestinian struggle through that specific lens. That is a legitimate historical perspective. However, we have seen a documented rise in antisemitic rhetoric in the Dáil—the Irish parliament—and on the streets of Dublin. There have been calls to expel the Israeli ambassador and even instances of Jewish citizens being told they aren’t welcome in certain spaces.
So if the Irish government has signed onto the I-H-R-A definition, why don’t we see consequences when someone crosses those lines?
Because in most countries, these definitions are symbolic. They are a statement of values, not a penal code. To turn them into law would involve some very tricky navigation of free speech protections. In Ireland, and many other places, there is a massive hesitation to police political speech, even when it is ugly. But Daniel’s point is a sharp one: if a government says, we stand against antisemitism, and then sits idly by while Jewish businesses are boycotted or Jewish students feel unsafe, then that endorsement is performative. It is a way of feeling virtuous without doing the hard work of social cohesion.
It feels like there is a gap between foreign policy and domestic responsibility. A country can be as critical as it wants of Israel's borders, but it still has a duty to protect its own Jewish citizens from the fallout of that rhetoric. When leaders use very charged language—calling Israel a rogue state or a genocidal regime—they are pouring gasoline on a fire. They might think they are just talking about a government far away, but for the person who wants to find an excuse to hate their Jewish neighbor, that language is an invitation.
That is exactly the danger. Words have consequences. If you spend months telling your population that a certain state is the embodiment of evil, you cannot be surprised when that hatred spills over onto the people who are perceived to be connected to that state. Actual policy would look like enforcing existing hate speech laws, providing security for Jewish institutions, and having the moral courage to call out members of your own political camp when they use antisemitic tropes.
That is the hardest part, isn't it? Calling out your friends. It is easy to point at the other side and say they are bigots. It is much harder to look at the people you agree with on Gaza and say, hey, that Nazi comparison you just made is antisemitic and it hurts our cause.
That is the real test of whether you actually care about antisemitism or if you are just using it as a political football. If you only see antisemitism on the other side of the aisle, you are not seeing it at all. We see this on both ends of the spectrum. On the right, you have the Great Replacement theories and the Soros-themed conspiracies about globalist control. On the left, you have the demonization of Zionism and the use of classic tropes under the guise of anti-colonialism. They are different flavors of the same poison.
They often meet in the middle, don't they? The horseshoe theory in action.
Absolutely. They use different justifications, but they always end up at the same target.
Let us talk about some practical takeaways for our listeners. If someone is out there and they want to be critical of what is happening in Gaza, or they are worried about the humanitarian situation—as many of us are—but they want to make sure they are not crossing into antisemitic territory, what are the red flags they should look for in their own speech or the speech of others?
First, avoid the Nazi comparisons. Full stop. It is historically inaccurate and it is designed to be a psychological attack. Second, avoid collective responsibility. Do not talk about what the Jews are doing; talk about what the Israeli government or the I-D-F is doing. Third, check for double standards. Are you using language to describe Israel that you never use for any other conflict? Are you demanding things of Israel that you don't demand of any other nation in a similar position?
Also, I think it is important to check the imagery. If you are using tropes of child-killing or world domination or greed, you are tapping into centuries of lethal antisemitism. Even if you think you are being edgy or provocative, you are playing with fire. And finally, listen to Jews. If the overwhelming majority of a minority group tells you that a certain phrase or a certain action is harmful to them, have the humility to listen. You do not have to agree with their politics to respect their definition of their own trauma.
That seems like a very basic level of empathy that is often missing in these heated debates. People are so convinced they are on the side of justice that they feel they have the right to define what is and is not offensive to the people they are attacking. It is a strange form of arrogance, isn't it? To tell a Jewish person, I am not being antisemitic, you are just being too sensitive. It is gaslighting on a global scale.
It really is. Now, looking forward, do you see this getting better? We are here in February of twenty-twenty-six. The most intense phase of the Gaza war has passed, but the social tensions in the West seem to be at an all-time high.
I think we are in a period of great shaking. The old consensus about how we talk about these things has broken down. But I also see more people becoming aware of these distinctions. The very fact that we are having this conversation, and that Daniel sent this prompt, shows that there is a desire to find those yardsticks. People are starting to realize that you can be a passionate advocate for Palestinian rights without descending into ancient hatreds.
I hope so. Because if we lose the ability to distinguish between political disagreement and racial or religious hatred, we lose the ability to have a functioning, pluralistic society.
We do. And it is not just about protecting Jews. A society that allows antisemitism to flourish is usually a society that is becoming sick in many other ways. It is often the canary in the coal mine for the death of liberal democracy. History has shown us that when the guardrails against antisemitism come down, other forms of bigotry and authoritarianism quickly follow.
That is a sobering thought, but a necessary one. Herman, I think we have covered a lot of ground here. We have looked at the I-H-R-A definition, the Three Ds, the connection between Judaism and Zionism, and the responsibility of governments to do more than just sign declarations.
We have. It is a complex topic, and we could talk for another five hours and still only scratch the surface. But hopefully, this gives people a framework to think about these things more deeply. It is about precision, empathy, and a commitment to universal standards.
I think it does. And for our listeners, if you have thoughts on this, or if you disagree with our take, we want to hear from you. This is a collaboration, and your input is what keeps the show going. We don't claim to have all the answers, but we are committed to asking the hard questions.
Absolutely. We are all trying to navigate this weird world together.
Before we wrap up, I want to say a quick thank you to Daniel for sending this in. It is a tough topic, especially for someone living here in Israel, but it is one that we cannot afford to ignore.
Agreed. Thanks, Daniel. Your perspective as a Jewish person in Israel who is also critical of policy is exactly the kind of nuance we need more of.
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Alright, Herman, I think that is it for today. Let us go get some coffee and take a walk. It is a beautiful day in Jerusalem, despite everything.
Sounds like a plan, Corn. A little fresh air and some perspective.
Thanks for listening to My Weird Prompts. We will see you in the next one.
Goodbye, everyone. Keep asking those weird questions.
