Since October 7, 2023, antisemitism has risen sharply and in well-documented ways around the world. From university campuses in the United States to the streets of London, Paris, and Berlin, anti-Jewish incidents have spiked – both online and offline. In Israel, these developments are typically explained as the result of external forces: Qatari incitement, Islamist radicalization, or the polarizing dynamics of social media. Focusing only on these causes, however, overlooks a crucial dimension: the contribution of Israel’s current government to the conditions under which legitimate criticism of Israeli policy repeatedly slides into ethnic generalizations about Jews.

This is not to claim that the government creates antisemitism out of thin air. Antisemitism long predates this administration – and even the State of Israel itself. Yet the rhetoric and policies of the present government help create a context in which the slide from political critique to ethnic suspicion becomes easier. That contribution operates on two levels: the blurring of distinctions between the State of Israel and the Jewish people, and the way Benjamin Netanyahu himself is perceived internationally – especially in American political discourse.

The first level is rhetorical. In recent months, senior ministers have repeatedly framed the conflict in ethnoreligious rather than strictly political terms. Public statements that legitimize harm to Gaza’s civilian population by claiming there are ‘no uninvolved civilians’, calls to ‘encourage migration’ as a solution, and open advocacy for Jewish settlement in Gaza are not confined to domestic debate. They are quoted, translated, and circulated globally – where they are read as official pronouncements from a state that explicitly defines itself as the nation-state of the Jewish people.

As a result, the distinction between three previously separate categories – Israel’s government, the State of Israel, and the Jewish people – becomes increasingly blurred. When military action is portrayed as an existential necessity of ‘the Jewish state’, it ceases, in the eyes of international observers, to appear as the sovereign decision of one government and begins to resemble an expression of collective Jewish intent. The move from ‘Israel acts this way’ to ‘the Jews act this way’ does not necessarily stem from conscious hostility. But it becomes an almost natural rhetorical slide when the state itself speaks as though it embodies a broader ethnic identity.

The second level concerns how Israel is perceived in the United States – not merely as an ally, but increasingly as a domestic political issue. Over the past decade, and especially since the war in Gaza, Netanyahu has become a lightning rod in American politics. On the progressive left, he is widely portrayed as presiding over systematic human rights violations; on the isolationist right, warnings have grown that an ‘automatic’ U.S. commitment to Israel risks dragging Washington into regional conflicts that do not serve American interests.

Commentators such as Tucker Carlson have sharpened this critique into an argument that the U.S.-Israel relationship can imperil American strategic autonomy. Such claims are often framed as concerns that U.S. foreign policy is being shaped by outside interests or domestic political pressure. That argument can be legitimate within a geostrategic debate. But when it becomes fused with a deep personal identification between Israel and its leader – and when that leader presents himself as acting on behalf of the entire Jewish people – it can begin to echo dangerous, age-old tropes of ‘Jewish influence’ or ‘dual loyalty’. In this rhetorical chain, criticism of Israeli policy can slide into suspicion of pro-Israel influence, and from there into suspicion of American Jews as a political collective.

These two dynamics – the erosion of the distinction between state and people, and the personalization of Israel in U.S. politics – do not create antisemitism on their own. But they alter the conditions under which it appears. They increase the likelihood that political criticism will assume an ethnic form and enable anti-Jewish discourse to reemerge under the cover of moral or strategic argument.

This is not merely a public relations problem; it is a first-order political challenge. A government whose senior officials repeatedly frame its actions as a struggle of Jewish identity rather than of state sovereignty – and that insists the state’s ethnic character should guide policy – cannot be surprised when its actions are read abroad as those of Jews everywhere. When policy is presented as an existential imperative of ‘the Jewish people’, the distinction between government policy and ethnic identity becomes dangerously fragile.

Modern antisemitism draws on many sources. Still, it is difficult to ignore the fact that the rhetorical and political posture of Israel’s current government contributes – however unintentionally – to an environment in which criticism of the state is readily translated into suspicion of Jews. When the Israeli government repeatedly emphasizes its Jewishness – through political slogans, legal frameworks such as the Nation-State Law, or policies that foreground ethnic identity – it blurs the line between state policy and ethnic belonging. When that line collapses, the consequences go beyond image: a government that speaks as if it represents the Jewish people must also accept responsibility for the risk that every Jew, everywhere, may be perceived as an agent of its policies.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)