The past decades have seen a resurgence of antisemitism in disturbing new forms, from “white genocide” and “great replacement” conspiracies to QAnon’s feverish delusions. Leaders like Trump, Orbán, and others amplify these myths, often under the guise of populism. Antisemitic attacks on synagogues, physical violence against Jewish people, and targeted harassment have become alarmingly common. Figures like George Soros have been cast as symbols of an ancient antisemitic trope—the supposed “Jewish cabal”—not only to stoke hatred but to discredit activism itself. Through these conspiracies, climate activism, anti-racist efforts, and queer liberation are all demonized as part of a Jewish “plot.” Antisemitism today serves both as a tool of fascists and a weapon against all forms of progressive struggle.

In response, we see the imperialist core nations pushing to redefine antisemitism to include or even limit it to criticisms of Zionism. This redefinition—promoted by governments and institutions under the “working definition of antisemitism”—threatens to equate anti-Zionism with antisemitism. The irony is that openly antisemitic figures—Trump, Orbán, Bolsonaro, and Christian Zionist preachers like John Hagee—are no longer seen as problematic due to their support of the Zionist state. Meanwhile, Jewish activists who stand in solidarity with Palestine are increasingly vilified by “Aryan” politicians and police forces as antisemitic. This inversion not only distorts the struggle for Jewish safety and identity but protects colonial violence from legitimate critique.

Zionism as Antisemitism

Early Zionism itself harbored antisemitic ideas. Figures like Theodor Herzl, often called the father of modern Zionism, openly disparaged the “Diaspora Jew.” He used the term “Mauschel,” a pejorative against Jews who were poor, pious, and resilient in the shtetls of Eastern Europe. Herzl once remarked, “Anti-Semites will become our most dependable friends, the anti-Semitic countries our allies.” His vision of the “New Jew” was a sharp departure from traditional Jewish identity, imagining a blond, blue-eyed superman molded on Germanic nationalist ideals. Vladimir Jabotinsky, another key Zionist, echoed this sentiment: “Our starting point is to take the typical Yid of today and to imagine his diametrical opposite… The Yid is ugly, sickly, and lacks decorum. The Hebrew, therefore, ought to be proud and independent.” The Zionist project aimed to purge the “old Jew” and replace him with an idealized, militaristic figure.

In its attempt to realize this vision, Zionism set out to create an entirely new “Jewish culture,” with a reinvented language and art that rejected centuries of Jewish heritage. Hebrew, historically Lashon HaKodesh (the holy tongue), was reimagined as a secular national language, stripped of its traditional roots. This process sought to erase Yiddishkayt, the living culture of Yiddish-speaking Jews, alongside Sephardic and Mizrahi Jewish identities, languages, and traditions. The Zionist state sought to overwrite these identities with a uniform, nationalistic culture that bore little resemblance to the diverse Jewish ways of life it replaced.

Yiddishkayt: A Living Alternative

In contrast, Yiddishkayt is a vibrant, anti-nationalist alternative that embodies the richness of real Jewish identity. While Zionism insists on a single, militarized, colonial identity, Yiddishkayt celebrates the multiplicity of Jewish cultures and traditions developed in the Diaspora. Yiddishkayt is not an “-ism”; it is a -kayt—a way of being, rather than a rigid doctrine. Unlike Judaism, which the West often defines as a set of beliefs, Yiddishkayt reflects a mode of existence. It encompasses the singing of Yiddish folk songs, the teeming vitality of shtetl life, the melodies of Talmudic study in the cheder, and the ecstatic spirituality of Chasidic gatherings. As the Jewish Chronicle put it, “Yiddishkayt evokes the teeming vitality of the shtetl, the singsong of Talmud study emanating from the cheder, and the ecstatic spirituality of Chasidim.”

Yiddishkayt connects us with our real roots in the Diaspora communities, not with the fabricated mythology of Zionist “roots” in a colonial state. It’s a way of living, being, and struggling—a resilience forged through the centuries of Jewish life in Babylon, Persia, Al-Andalus, and the shtetls of Eastern Europe. By tapping into this heritage, we inherit a legacy that resists the nationalist, capitalist, and colonial frameworks imposed upon us.

Assimilationism: The Other Side of the Coin

Assimilationism, which attempts to erase Jewish identity for the sake of integration into “Christian” society, has often partnered with Zionism in its disdain for traditional Jewish practices. Historically, assimilationists dismissed the vibrancy of Jewish life, suggesting that Jews should conform “like normal people.” When Chasidim and Mitnagdim argued passionately over kosher slaughter, assimilationists insisted Jews should simply eat pork. When debates raged over Shabbat observance, assimilationists proposed resting on Sunday, as “normal people” do. Zionism and assimilationism have often found common ground as strategies of the urban Jewish bourgeoisie, aiming to dilute Jewish culture to fit dominant norms. Herzl himself was deeply assimilationist in aspects of his personal life, celebrating Christmas and viewing Judaism as something to shed in favor of a new, “acceptable” identity.

As the old joke goes: what was the difference between Jesus and Herzl? Jesus celebrated Hanukkah; Herzl celebrated Christmas.

A Proud Heritage for Today’s Rebels

For Jewish people today, our heritage—spanning the Babylonian and Persian Jewish communities, the Sephardic traditions of Al-Andalus, and the Ashkenazic world of the European shtetl—offers more than an identity; it offers a legacy of resilience and defiance. We should not settle for the shallow, Zionist-imposed “Jewish identity” that strips us of this richness. In the rabbinical, secular, and Bundist traditions, we find a treasure trove of revolutionary tools for our liberation.

The rabbinical tradition gives us the sharp wit of the Talmudic sages, who debated every point to sharpen both ethics and law. Secular Yiddish culture is filled with stories of the anawim—the downtrodden—and heroes of the shtetl who resisted oppression with humor, resilience, and courage. Bundism, the socialist movement of Jewish workers, forged a path for Jewish and non-Jewish solidarity in the struggle against capital and state violence.

Together, these traditions offer young Jewish rebels today an identity rooted in solidarity, wisdom, and resistance to both the Zionist redefinition of Jewishness and the assimilationist erasure of our unique ways. We look to Yiddishkayt as an antidote to the forces that seek to narrow, sanitize, or commodify Jewish identity. In embracing it, we stand on the shoulders of giants and remember that our strength lies in our diversity, our resilience, and our unyielding commitment to justice.