I grew up in an atheist household where the very concept of ‘religion’ was frowned upon. ‘Religion is an opiate for the masses that exists to perpetuate power,’ my father used to tell me. Religion, he insisted, was for idiots. Once educated, people no longer needed what he called, “mystic powers from a sky god.”
When I was four, the only other thing I knew about religion was that my dad found an affinity for someone named ‘Jesus Christ’ whenever he got angry. Sometimes when he was really angry, it became ‘Jesus F-ing H. Christ’ (using the full word).
My best friend at the time was a kid who lived down the street, named Ian. Ian and I played constantly, usually on Big Wheels. Ian had a Green Machine (which was like a Big Wheel on steroids), and it scared him, so he preferred to let me ride it while he used my more conventional Big Wheel.
We played nearly every day, but his family went to church so on Sundays I had to wait until after lunch.
One Sunday, after lunch, I ran over to Ian’s house, but Ian was going to go to Sunday School in the afternoon and could not play. Ian’s parents suggested that if my parents were OK with it, I could go too.
I don’t remember exactly what we did at Sunday School, but it was either coloring or some kind of craft suitable for four-year-olds. What I do remember is the youth leaders at some point pulling all of us new kids together and asking us if we knew anything about Jesus.
I thought I knew something about Jesus, so I shot my hand up quickly and was called on.
“What do you know about Jesus?” came the question.
“I know his full name,” I responded.
The youth leader didn’t seem impressed, and we had a brief back and forth about how “Jesus is sometimes called ‘Jesus of Nazareth,’ but his full name is just ‘Jesus Christ’.”
I was adamant that Jesus had middle names, and eventually the youth leader asked, “OK. Fine. What is Jesus’ full name then?”
I was very proud to know something the youth leaders did not know, and answered accordingly: “Jesus F-ing H. Christ (using the full word, just like my father)!”
The youth leaders were horrified. They pulled me aside and asked why I would say something so blasphemous in a church, but they figured out pretty quickly that I had no idea what an F-bomb was (I was four), and genuinely believed that was Jesus’ full name. They told me that Jesus Christ is my Lord and Savior who died for my sins, and rose again. When I heard that, it didn’t strike me as something new. It felt more like something I had always known but had never had the words to articulate.
I’ve been a Christian ever since.
The point of this story, in relation to antisemitism, is that being a Christian in an atheist household shaped not just my view of Christianity, but of other religions as well – including Judaism.
At fourteen, I got a copy of the Bible and read it cover to cover (Other than Psalms and Proverbs, where I got bogged down and skipped large sections).
Since the Bible contained the Old Testament, the first five books of which were the Torah, I read the Torah too, not as a preamble, but as the foundational text of a rival religion worthy of consideration. My thought wasn’t, “I need to read the first five books of the Old Testament because it is in the Bible,” but, “This is the core of Jewish doctrine, and maybe rather than a Christian, I should be a Jew.”
I’ve also read the Qur’an, and even the Book of Mormon, and in every case my question was the same: is this true, and to the degree that it is, what does that mean for me?
I am not Jewish, but nor have I ever read anything that gave me any cause to dislike Judaism as a religion, or the Jewish people as a group. The Jewish people have, in fact, a Covenant with God that predates the Christian Covenant. God calls them his chosen people.
No Christian in good conscience can hate God’s chosen people.
My approach to religion is rational, based on the assumption that those who follow a religion believe the foundational texts to be true, and work to act them out in their daily lives. I would never choose a religion if I did not believe its foundational texts to be true. I found both the Torah and the Christian Bible in whole to be true. I hold them as the Word of God, to the degree that those God moved to write them could understand what they were told.
Not everyone reads their religion’s foundational texts, or follows them as a central part of their life, but the more devout someone becomes, the more their actions will tend to reflect core doctrine, and because Jews and Christians share the same moral law, there’s no reason we shouldn’t live in harmony. And yet antisemitism is alive and well, both inside and outside the Christian community.
Worse still, it always has been.
The purpose of this essay is to show why antisemitism exists, in the hope that if the world can better understand antisemitism, there will be less of it.
This is not a history of antisemitic acts, but a systemic analysis of why antisemitism formed, and why it has not died.
From Scapegoats to ‘Christ-Killers’: The Theological Repackaging of Antisemitism
Antisemitism has persisted across civilizations, belief systems, and political structures. It has survived the fall of empires, the rise of reason, and the advent of modern rights-based societies. While other prejudices have faded, been rebranded, or confined to the margins, antisemitism continues to reappear in new forms, adopted by both the powerful and the powerless, and often repackaged as something else.
The persistence of antisemitism is not due to ignorance or tribalism alone. It endures because it is useful, offering those in power a scapegoat, those in decline a target, and those in revolt a symbol to tear down. The details change, but the structure remains: a minority group, historically distinct and often successful, is blamed for the failures of the majority and punished accordingly.
Nor is the form of prejudice something Jews are immune from themselves. Consider Jonah’s attitude toward the Ninevites (Jonah 4:1–2 NIV):
1 But to Jonah this seemed very wrong, and he became angry.
2 He prayed to the Lord, “Isn’t this what I said, Lord, when I was still at home? That is what I tried to forestall by fleeing to Tarshish. I knew that you are a gracious and compassionate God, slow to anger and abounding in love, a God who relents from sending calamity.”
Jonah’s anger at God’s mercy toward the Ninevites shows how even the faithful can resent grace when it disrupts their sense of justice. This same impulse fuels group-level scapegoating.
Scapegoating may not define individuals, but it seems almost universal within larger groups.
This has nothing to do with what Jews believe. It has everything to do with how their success, endurance, and cohesion threaten the stories others tell themselves to justify their resentment and failure.
In the early centuries of Christianity, Church leaders accused the Jews of killing Jesus. Although the Gospels present a more complex picture, involving Roman authority, local corruption, and the fulfillment of prophecy, many early Christian leaders simplified the story, blaming the Jewish people as a whole. This accusation ignored the central Christian claim that Christ came into the world to die, and that His death was necessary for redemption.
In other words, when the Sanhedrin pressured Pontius Pilate to execute Jesus, they were following God’s will. Given that Jesus is God, they were also following Jesus’ will.
From Samson to Pharaoh, the Bible is full of people doing God’s will unintentionally, and though the Sanhedrin of the day pressured the Romans to kill an innocent man, to them he was a dangerous blasphemer who needed to die, and frankly, based on their civil laws, their decision was consistent with their own understanding of justice.
Jesus was either the Messiah or a blasphemer, and though the Sanhedrin lacked the power of execution under Roman law, the Laws of Moses called for blasphemers to die.
Blaming all Jewish people for what the Sanhedrin did also ignores the fact that almost all of the early Christians were Jews. How can Christians possibly blame all Jewish people, when we share the same God and the same moral law, and when our earliest converts were almost all Jews?
The death of Jesus was not a failure to be avenged, but a fulfillment of prophecy. Nevertheless, the charge of deicide was institutionalized, and Jewish communities throughout Europe were subjected to waves of persecution and forced conversions. Labeling Jews as Christ-killers clothed hatred in theology and allowed evil to speak in the language of piety.
When Proximity Becomes a Liability
In the Middle Ages, Jews were systematically excluded from public life. They were barred from most trades, prohibited from owning land, and denied access to the Christian guild system that controlled the economy. With few legitimate options, many found work in areas others avoided, particularly moneylending and tax collection. They also often became advisors or administrators for the crown. These roles placed them close to wealth and power, but always on the outside, such that they were convenient targets whenever resentment boiled over.
When peasants could not pay their rent, it was often a Jewish tax collector who arrived to enforce the obligation. When noblemen defaulted on their loans, it was a Jewish financier who held the account. When monarchs needed money to fund wars or cover debts, they frequently turned to Jewish lenders for help. The ruling classes benefited from this arrangement, but the population saw only the face of the person tasked with collecting what was owed.
As a result, Jews were welcomed when times were stable and expelled or destroyed when they were not. Entire communities were targeted, often to cancel debts, divert public anger, or serve the interests of the crown.
England expelled its Jewish population in 1290. France followed in 1306. Spain expelled its Jews in 1492, just as it began its ‘golden age’ of empire. These expulsions served multiple purposes, satisfying popular resentment and enriching the monarchy through confiscated property. Each expulsion reinforced the myth that Jews were inherently subversive or disloyal.
These were deliberate political calculations, and the historic record shows a consistent pattern in which when the state is indebted and the people are angry, those who are financially entangled with the ruling class, but who fall outside the dominant culture, are placed at risk.
A similar dynamic can be seen in the fall of the Knights Templar. Although they were not Jewish, they accumulated wealth and influence through finance and administration. The Templars helped monarchs move funds, broker international deals, manage royal treasuries, and finance wars. Their loyalty was to the Church rather than to the Crown, and King Philip IV of France saw that as a threat. He was heavily indebted to the Templars, and rather than repay what he owed, he accused them of heresy and immorality, tortured confessions out of their leaders, and seized their wealth (at least what he could find of it). Though framed as religious piety, the move was in fact a calculated political and financial purge.
In medieval China, under Mongol rule during the Yuan dynasty, the court often relied on Muslim and Central Asian administrators to collect taxes and manage trade. These foreigners were deliberately placed in authority over the Chinese majority, in part because they had no ties to the local population and could be trusted to serve Mongol interests. While this gave them a measure of influence, it also made them resented by the people they governed. When the dynasty fell and the Ming restored native rule, many of these officials were purged, and the foreign communities they represented were pushed to the margins of society.
In the Islamic world, Jewish and Christian minorities were allowed to live if they paid a special tax, but were not treated as equals. They were often recruited into roles that required education or financial skill, such as court physicians, translators, and treasurers. In cities like Baghdad and Cairo, these religious minorities worked closely with Muslim rulers and were sometimes elevated above the Muslim poor. This created tension, and during times of political unrest, these communities were frequently subjected to mob violence, increased taxation, or punitive legal changes intended to remind them of their subordinate place.
In India, certain merchant castes and religious minorities filled economic roles that others avoided. Hindu financiers under Muslim sultanates, and Jain merchants under various Hindu kings, often kept records, managed commercial networks, and supplied credit to ruling elites. Their financial relationships with the powerful gave them security in stable times but exposed them during regime changes or when debts became politically inconvenient. Those once protected could quickly be vilified, and their wealth became an easy target for rulers in need of funds or popular approval.
The lesson is clear. When trust within a society breaks down, proximity to power is no longer an asset, but a liability, and no group in European history was forced closer to power while remaining permanently outside of it than the Jews.
The Envy of Those Who Fail
Jews did not merely survive persecution. In many cases, they thrived in spite of it. This success, far from earning admiration, only intensified the hatred against them. The same dynamic appears wherever a visible minority becomes successful in the eyes of less successful groups.
In Southeast Asia, ethnic Chinese minorities rose to dominate trade and business despite facing widespread legal discrimination. Their economic success made them targets. As political conditions worsened in countries like Indonesia and Malaysia, resentment exploded into violence. Pogroms broke out and entire families were murdered.
A similar pattern has emerged in the United States, where Asian Americans consistently outperform the national average in both academics and income. Rather than being celebrated, their success is treated as suspect. Affirmative action policies now work against them. Activists label them “white-adjacent,” and in some cities they’ve been singled out for violent attacks.
What unites these cases is not race or religion, but position. Success that exists outside the narrative of state-sponsored privilege is treated as proof of corruption or conspiracy. If someone from a persecuted group thrives, their success becomes offensive. It suggests that the dominant group’s failures are not the result of structural oppression, but of cultural or personal shortcomings. That implication cannot be allowed to stand, so the successful outsider must be torn down.
Successful minorities also undermine the dominant Western narrative that paints the world through an oppressor/oppressed lens of intersectionality. Having groups who have clearly been oppressed, but who economically thrive, proves that oppression alone cannot explain why some groups do better than others. Looking at cultural differences as the source of relative success or failure violates the tenet of multiculturalism in which all cultures are viewed as equal, and people as interchangeable.
The truth is that culture matters a great deal, and we see that when we look at how immigrants do in the United States.
Immigrants who come from countries where the culture focuses less on education and STEM fields generally do less well economically than the overall population, but the grandchildren of the immigrants from such places are generally on par with the overall population, having adopted the dominant culture.
Immigrants who come from countries that focus on hard work, education, and STEM fields generally do better than the overall population, and while the offspring of such groups also regresses to the mean; it takes about twice as long (six generations rather than three), indicating that cultures that lead to success are held onto longer than cultures that lead to failure.
Where a culture is held onto intergenerationally, whatever success or failure it generates is also intergenerational.
Many try to lump the successful minorities in with the majority as a part of the oppressor class, and since the oppressor is regarded as evil, there is a strong tendency in such circles to hate such groups.
In this way, antisemitism exists both within the majority, and within less successful minorities.
Antisemitism in the Islamic world did not originate with modern geopolitics or the founding of Israel. It began with Muhammad, who initially saw the Jewish tribes of Medina as potential allies. When they refused to recognize him as a prophet, he declared them enemies. He expelled the Banu Qaynuqa and Banu Nadir tribes and later oversaw the mass execution of the Banu Qurayza. Hundreds of men were beheaded in a single day. The women and children were taken as slaves. This was not a political disagreement, but the transformation of theological rejection into targeted violence.
The legacy of these events continues. Muhammad is considered the ideal man in Islam. His actions are not merely described in Islamic texts; they are prescribed. Muslims are taught to emulate him, not just in prayer or dress, but in how they view those he opposed. If Muhammad hated Jews, then many believe that hatred remains righteous.
This theological logic does not stop with Jews. In several hadith, blackness is associated with sin and demonic traits. Some texts refer to Satan appearing as a black man. These references were used to justify the Arab slave trade, which predated and outlasted the transatlantic version. Black Africans were not enslaved incidentally; they were considered by many to be naturally suited to it.
Muhammad also expressed contempt for dogs, particularly black dogs, which he ordered killed. He said they were devils in animal form. This teaching has shaped cultural norms in many Islamic societies, where dogs are viewed as filthy and unwelcome. He expressed similarly harsh views about homosexuals, calling for their death, and treated women as spiritually and intellectually inferior.
These prejudices have endured, not because of culture, but because of doctrine. They are difficult to challenge, because they are presented as divine examples.
When hatred is given scriptural authority, it cannot be criticized without appearing to criticize the faith itself.
Exporting Hatred Through State and Terror Networks
In the modern era, Islamic antisemitism has been formalized through both state propaganda and terror organizations. It is not a fringe sentiment. It is built into the architecture of power.
Iran has shaped much of its foreign policy around hatred of Jews. It openly calls for the destruction of Israel and backs armed groups that list genocide among their objectives. Hezbollah in Lebanon and Hamas in Gaza both receive Iranian funding and logistical support, and both exist in part to carry out that agenda.
Qatar has taken a different path but works toward a similar outcome. It funds Islamist ideological campaigns across the Western world, often under the guise of academic support. The Qatari government donates heavily to elite universities, finances Middle East studies departments, and underwrites media platforms like Al Jazeera, which routinely feature guests who traffic in anti-Jewish conspiracy theories. The goal is to shape the intellectual climate in ways that serve Qatar’s interests, and those interests often include normalizing antisemitism.
Hamas, which governs Gaza, openly indoctrinates children. State-run children’s television includes characters who cry over martyrs and refer to Jews as monsters. Schoolbooks show maps with Israel erased and poetry that glorifies killing. These materials are produced and distributed by the government. The result is a population raised in hatred, and taught from early childhood that Jews are subhuman adversaries.
In the West, antisemitism is no longer limited to radicals or street agitators. It now has a foothold in institutions that once prided themselves on reason and tolerance.
Many universities no longer treat antisemitism as a moral failing. Instead, they frame it as a political opinion. Under the umbrella of anti-colonial theory, it is disguised as criticism of Israel and promoted through academic frameworks that claim to elevate the marginalized.
Departments focused on race, gender, and postcolonial studies often depict Jews as oppressors. Jewish students are labeled beneficiaries of white privilege. Israel is portrayed as a settler-colonial project with no historical legitimacy. The fact that Jews are indigenous to the Middle East is dismissed. Historical evidence is ignored, while political propaganda is treated as truth.
In this environment, students are taught that Jewish power is not only real but inherently illegitimate. Zionism is framed as racism while Jewish suffering is downplayed or denied. When Jewish students object, they are accused of silencing others or exploiting their identity to avoid criticism.
This is not education, but indoctrination teaching that hatred is acceptable when framed as activism. It also reduces moral clarity to identity alignment, replacing truth with political convenience.
The Influence of Social Media and Politics
Social media has made antisemitism both more visible and more contagious. The algorithms that govern these platforms reward engagement over accuracy. Posts that provoke outrage or strong emotional reactions are pushed to the top, regardless of whether or not they are true.
Antisemitic content fits this model perfectly. It often includes shocking images, oversimplified narratives, and emotionally charged language. These are exactly the traits that algorithms favor.
False stories about Israeli atrocities, repurposed footage from unrelated conflicts, and complete fabrications are shared by millions. Attempts to correct the record reach only a small fraction of the people who saw the original lies. In effect, the digital environment amplifies falsehoods and suppresses facts.
During recent conflicts in the Middle East, Jewish users reported coordinated harassment campaigns on social media. Misinformation spread faster than it could be corrected. Hashtags calling for violence against Jews trended across major platforms. These were not anomalies but the logical result of systems built to reward rage and viral simplicity.
Social media did not invent antisemitism, but it has become the most efficient delivery system in human history. When its influence is combined with ideological narratives from academia and theological teachings from Islamist movements, it becomes a global megaphone for hatred.
In democratic countries with large Muslim populations, antisemitism is now being treated as a political bargaining chip. This dynamic is especially visible in France, Belgium, and the United Kingdom, but it is also emerging in parts of the United States.
Just as Democrats once tolerated racism in the American South to keep the segregationist vote, modern parties on the left often ignore or excuse antisemitism to hold onto radicalized voters who are hostile to Jews and to Israel. These voters are not always religious. Many are secular, but they have absorbed antisemitic ideas through exposure to Islamist ideology, critical theory, or both.
In some cases, political candidates have made openly antisemitic remarks without suffering any real consequences. Identity politics protects them. Their critics are accused of racism, bad faith, or punching down. Their hatred is excused because they check the right demographic boxes or claim progressive credentials.
This is not limited to fringe figures. Prominent legislators and city council members have repeated blood libel-style accusations, praised terrorism as resistance, and described Jews as foreign occupiers in their own country. Party leaders, when faced with these statements, almost always remain silent.
When power is on the line, principles are the first to be sacrificed.
The Moral Cost of Tolerating Antisemitism
Antisemitism is not a private opinion or a policy dispute. It is a lie that inverts moral reality. It teaches people to hate what is good, to reward what is false, and to justify cruelty by pretending it is justice.
It does not persist because people misunderstand Judaism. It persists because hatred remains useful. Jews are visible, historically resilient, and economically successful. These qualities make them easy to isolate and blame. For tyrants and mobs alike, they are the perfect target.
When antisemitism rises, it is always a signal. It tells us that truth no longer matters, and that ideology has replaced reason, while justice has been exchanged for convenience. It symbolizes that a society has embraced tribal morality, where feelings outweigh facts and hatred masquerades as solidarity.
This is not just a danger to Jews, but a warning to everyone. When truth becomes inconvenient, it is often the first thing abandoned. Those who choose to remain silent are not avoiding controversy. They are enabling something much darker to take root.
No civilization that tolerates antisemitism can long call itself civilized.
Antisemitism now enjoys legitimacy in many of the world’s most prestigious institutions. Universities that once pursued truth have become echo chambers for grievance-driven ideologies. Departments built on binary frameworks divide the world into oppressors and oppressed, colonizers and colonized. Within this worldview, Jews are rarely seen as victims. They are cast as privileged outsiders whose very survival is an affront to the narrative.
Some schools no longer even teach that the Holocaust was specifically targeted against Europe’s Jews.
Jews are portrayed as white, powerful, and complicit in systemic oppression. Israel is not described as the only liberal democracy in the Middle East or as the ancient homeland of a people returning from exile. It is reduced to a colonial outpost, no different from apartheid-era South Africa or imperial Britain. This narrative is not one perspective among many. It is taught as moral fact. Those who challenge it face professional blacklisting, social targeting, or in some cases, physical threats.
On campus, Jewish students are harassed and excluded from activist spaces. Those who speak in defense of Israel are shouted down or blocked from speaking altogether. Faculty who express pro-Israel views are pressured into silence, for fear of being labeled racist or complicit in white supremacy. The movement that claims to oppose bigotry has become one of its most effective carriers, so long as the hatred wears the right mask.
A Hatred That Serves Too Many Masters
In parts of Europe, antisemitism has become a political asset. As Muslim populations have grown in cities across France, Britain, Belgium, and Sweden, political candidates have begun tailoring their message to that vote. In practice, this often means turning a blind eye to antisemitic views, or even echoing them in careful language.
In the United Kingdom, Jeremy Corbyn’s Labour Party became a case study in this trend. Antisemitism flourished under the guise of solidarity with Palestine. In the United States, several members of Congress have made repeated antisemitic remarks and faced no meaningful consequences. Some have even seen their political standing improve.
This mirrors an earlier era, when Southern Democrats courted white racial resentment to maintain control. Then, the goal was to suppress the black vote and preserve cultural dominance. Today, the goal is to harness radicalized blocs in urban districts, even if it means tolerating harassment, excusing violence, or remaining silent when hate is shouted in plain sight.
Antisemitism has never gone away because it continues to serve too many interests. For indebted rulers, it is a way to cancel obligations, for revolutionaries without a plan, it gives shape to their rage; for intellectuals who see history as a war of power against power, it supplies a villain; and for the ignorant, it provides an excuse.
Jews are not hated because they dominate. They are hated because they endure. They have been beaten down again and again, and yet they rise. That resilience contradicts the stories others tell to excuse their own failures. It denies the claim that history moves only in one direction.
We are not witnessing the return of antisemitism. We are living in its reestablishment. It is already here, on our campuses, in our cities, in our political discourse, and in the media our children consume. It no longer needs to hide because too many people now defend it.
The real question is not whether antisemitism will grow. It is whether we are willing to confront it when it comes from people we otherwise agree with. Will we speak up when there is a price? Will we name the poison when it comes from within our own camp?
Antisemitism is not an ancient relic. It is a mirror. It reveals the face of those who wield it more clearly than it ever reflects the people they seek to condemn.
The Jewish people will survive. They always have. The real question is whether the civilizations that tolerate their persecution deserve to survive alongside them.
