Why Jews Should Not Let Our Critics — Such as the Antisemites of Ireland — Define Us

Why Jews Should Not Let Our Critics — Such as the Antisemites of Ireland — Define Us

Pini Dunner


Demonstrators wearing masks depicting US Secretary of State Antony Blinken and Democratic presidential nominee and US Vice President Kamala Harris hold signs, in solidarity with Palestinians in Gaza, in Dublin, Ireland on Oct. 7, 2024. Photo: Clodagh Kilcoyne via Reuters Connect

The political philosopher Sir Isaiah Berlin, a master of sardonic aphorisms, is purported to have defined an antisemite as “someone who hates Jews more than is absolutely necessary.” This wry observation perfectly encapsulates the peculiar persistence of this ancient prejudice, and came to mind this week after Israel decided to close its embassy in Ireland — a country whose history and present attitudes reflect a relentless and disproportionate criticism of the Jewish State.

Ireland’s longstanding track record on Israel is troubling. But since the October 7th massacre in southern Israel, and the war that has ensued with Hamas in Gaza, Hezbollah in Lebanon, and the Houthis in Yemen, Irish officials have dramatically escalated their rhetoric against Israel, taking it to new levels, perpetuating their long tradition of singling out the Jewish people and their state for unique contempt.

Truthfully, this antipathy to Jews and sympathy for antisemites is hardly new. Ireland’s dubious stance during World War II, during which it maintained “neutrality” as Europe struggled against the Nazi onslaught, reached a new low in 1945 when Irish Prime Minister Éamon de Valera infamously visited the German ambassador to offer his condolences after Hitler committed suicide in his bunker. This gesture only highlighted Ireland’s indifference to Jewish victims of the Holocaust, still fresh in their graves, leaving an indelible stain on its moral record.

This week, Irish leaders insisted they’re not antisemitic, but their actions tell a different story. Despite complex explanations to justify their positions, and claims that their stance is driven by human rights concerns for Gazans and has nothing to do with Israel, the facts speak for themselves. As the late Isaiah Berlin observed in another of his famous aphorisms: “The fox knows many things, but the hedgehog knows one big thing.” In this case, Israel is the hedgehog, and it knows one big thing: Ireland’s rhetoric and actions are steeped in antisemitism.

Insistent justifications notwithstanding, nothing can obscure the fact that Ireland disproportionately criticizes and targets Israel while turning a blind eye to the atrocities committed by Israel’s enemies and countless other actors around the world. This selective scrutiny faced by Israel and Jews has sadly become the norm.

Ireland’s history of antisemitism is, frankly, troubling. And it’s not just about De Valera’s infamous 1945 visit to the German ambassador. In 1980, Ireland became the first European country to recognize the PLO, led by the arch-terrorist Yasser Arafat, as the “sole legitimate representative of the Palestinian people.” That’s the same PLO whose charter at the time openly called for the total destruction of Israel.

In 2018, Irish lawmakers proposed the “Occupied Territories Bill” in parliament to criminalize Israeli imports originating in Judea and Samaria, the Biblical heartland of the Jewish people. Meanwhile, imports from China — whose treatment of Uyghurs and Tibetans has been widely condemned as a humanitarian crisis — continue uninterrupted and unchallenged. The contrast is glaring and hard to explain away. When it comes to Israel, the world’s only Jewish state, Ireland seems to operate by a different set of rules entirely.

Ireland’s president since 2011, Michael D. Higgins, is often at the center of controversy when it comes to Israel and Jews. This week, Higgins — whose role is mainly ceremonial and meant to be apolitical — accused Israel of breaching the sovereignty of Lebanon and Syria, even alleging, without a shred of evidence, that Israel intends to establish settlements in Egypt. These baseless claims prompted Israeli Foreign Minister Gideon Saar to call Higgins an “antisemitic liar” — a harsh but telling response to the Irish president’s repeated inflammatory remarks.

In September, Higgins made the deeply sinister accusation that Israel had leaked a congratulatory letter he sent to Iran’s newly appointed president, Masoud Pezeshkian, to make him look bad. It didn’t take very long for the truth to emerge — Iranian officials had proudly posted the letter on social media. But the implication that Israel acted underhandedly revealed more than just poor judgment. It points to a pattern of reflexively pointing the finger at Israel and portraying it in the worst possible light, regardless of the facts.

It’s all part of a broader narrative in which Ireland consistently singles out Israel for condemnation, claiming to be concerned about human rights while ignoring far graver human rights abuses elsewhere. Take this week’s discovery of a mass grave in Syria containing the remains of 100,000 victims of Bashar al-Assad’s brutal regime. Where was Ireland’s outrage as Assad targeted minorities and perceived enemies for years, killing them in full view of the world? The silence was and remains deafening. But when it comes to Israel and Jews, Ireland is never short on criticism.

And the hostility towards Israel in Ireland isn’t limited to political rhetoric — it’s seeping into the education system. According to reports, antisemitism has now rooted itself in Irish public schools, with students exposed to biased narratives that single out Israel for condemnation. Jewish leaders in Ireland have expressed growing concern about how these attitudes are shaping the next generation, perpetuating a cycle of prejudice that blurs the line between anti-Israel sentiment and outright antisemitism.

This age-old pattern of singling out Jews for criticism is as old as the Torah itself.

In Parshat Vayeishev, we meet Yosef (Joseph), a young man betrayed by his brothers, sold into slavery, only to be accused of a crime he didn’t commit. Despite his innocence, the Torah tells us that Yosef was targeted because he is different — he’s an “Ivri,” a “Hebrew” — an outsider in Egypt, easy to blame and accuse, making him the perfect scapegoat.

Ivri is a label that sets Yosef apart and makes him vulnerable to the kind of unjust treatment that has become emblematic of the way Jews have been treated throughout history. Whether it’s Yosef in Egypt, Jews in Christian and Muslim lands, or modern Israel in the international arena, the parallels are striking. Time and again, the Jewish people are falsely accused, maligned, and held to standards no one else is expected to meet.

But being an Ivri isn’t all bad. The Noam Elimelech explains that Ivri denotes someone who stands on the “other side” spiritually — a person willing to stand apart from societal norms and dedicate themselves to a higher Divine purpose. Being separate is not only about vulnerability but also about inner strength. Yosef’s identity as an Ivri marked him as different, and while it made him a target, it also positioned him as a moral mentor in an environment of corruption.

Similarly, Rav Kook sees the term Ivri as an expression of the Jewish mission to remain distinct and steadfast in aspirational values, even when surrounded by hostility. For Rav Kook, Yosef represents the archetype of Jewish resilience — even when accused, maligned, and imprisoned, he remains true to his principles and emerges stronger. The Ivri identity is not a weakness but rather the foundation of the Jewish people’s strength throughout history.

Standing apart has always been part of the Jewish experience. Whether it is Yosef in Egypt or modern Israel in the international arena, being distinct comes with challenges — but it also comes with strength. No matter how loud the criticism or how relentless the accusations, we must hold firm to who we are.

For Israel and for Jews everywhere, the lesson is clear: the negativity of our critics should not define us. Like Yosef, we must rise above the false accusations and the unfair standards. We can’t control the world’s double standards or prejudices, but we can control how we respond to them. As Rabbi Jonathan Sacks so eloquently put it: “The only sane response to antisemitism is to monitor it, fight it, but never let it affect our idea of who we are. Pride is always a healthier response than shame.”


The author is a rabbi in Beverly Hills, California.


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