Antisemitism: Understanding the Oldest Hatred and How to Confront It

Nearly every Jewish person has encountered antisemitism in some form. Many have been its direct victims, others have had their lives shaped by it indirectly, and nearly all have thought deeply about it. Antisemitism has been present for so long that it is often called “the world’s oldest hatred.”

Trying to understand antisemitism is a difficult and complex task. The historian Paul Johnson once wrote:

“If anti-Semitism is a variety of racism, it is a most peculiar variety, with many unique characteristics. In my view as a historian, it is so peculiar that it deserves to be placed in a quite different category. I would call it an intellectual disease, a disease of the mind, extremely infectious and massively destructive.”¹

In other words, antisemitism is not just another form of prejudice. It is a constantly changing phenomenon that follows Jewish communities from place to place, making it feel almost inescapable.

Antisemitism is not just another form of prejudice.

This raises some very big questions: Why does antisemitism exist? What are its roots? Can it ever be reduced or eliminated? Much has been written on the subject, and sadly, it remains just as relevant today as in the past.

This essay will focus on traditional Jewish perspectives, exploring how Rabbinical scholars have understood antisemitism throughout history.

Political Manipulation

For most of Jewish history, the Jewish people have lived as minorities within larger nations, often without self-governance. This situation made them especially vulnerable to being targeted by rulers who sought to use them as scapegoats.

When a dictator or corrupt leader wants to cover up their failures, one of the easiest tactics is to invent an “enemy of the people.” If the economy is collapsing, that enemy is blamed. If harsh laws or a police state are imposed, those measures are justified as necessary for “protecting” the country from this supposed threat.

Even more dangerously, stirring up hatred toward a minority can serve as a powerful tool of social control. By channeling people’s frustrations into anger and violence against a group, leaders distract the population from seeking genuine happiness, freedom, or justice. This creates fertile ground for totalitarian rule.

This idea is echoed in George Orwell’s famous novel 1984, with its “Two Minutes Hate,” its fictional enemy of the state named Emmanuel Goldstein (noticeably a very Jewish-sounding name), and its constant, shifting wars with vague opponents like Oceania and Eastasia.

According to Jewish tradition, this same dynamic explains the earliest case of organized antisemitism: the enslavement of the Israelites in Egypt.

The Torah writes: “Now a new king arose over Egypt, and he said to his people: Lo! The children of Israel are a nation, too numerous and mighty for us. Come, let us deal cleverly with them, lest they multiply, and then if, in the course of events, there should be a war, they will join our enemies, or fight us themselves” (Exodus, 1:8-11).

The Jewish people had done nothing to deserve hatred from the Egyptians. Yet a new Pharaoh, insecure in his rule and anxious about strengthening his grip on power, invented a narrative portraying them as enemies of the state. His motives were strikingly similar to the political manipulation described in 1984.

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, a leading 19th-century Torah commentator, explained this dynamic in his writings:

There is little new under the sun, and generally all the phenomena of history are as old as history itself. Whenever a tyrant sought to oppress his subjects, he would deliver into their hands another people whom they in turn could afflict, and thus would be compensated for the oppression coming from above. This policy was the source of many of the decrees whose purpose was to afflict the Jews.

Similar considerations may have motivated the instigator of these, the very first anti-Jewish laws. Pharaoh wished to compensate the Egyptian people for his despotic rule. For this purpose he created a pariah caste, upon which all the other castes could look down with contempt and, thus self-assured, imagine themselves to be free men.

The fact that pharaoh found nothing with which to blame the Jews except for their high birth rate, and that, to justify the harsh measures that he intended to enact, he had to cite reasons of ‘national interest,’ is brilliant testimony to the Jews social and moral decency.”²

A look at the anti-Israel policies of modern-day Iran feels eerily similar to the antisemitism of ancient Egypt. Iran shares no borders with Israel and has no obvious economic or political conflicts with it. Yet the destruction of the Jewish state has become a central pillar of Iranian foreign policy. By some estimates, Iran has poured over one trillion dollars into missile and nuclear programs—funds that could have been used to improve the lives of its own citizens.

By blaming the Jews for their people’s hardships, these leaders follow a pattern as old as Pharaoh’s in Egypt.

Is this simply the result of religious fanaticism? Perhaps—but it may also be something even more cynical. The theocratic rulers of Iran may be using Israel as an invented enemy to distract their population from the failures of their own leadership. By blaming the Jews for their people’s hardships, these leaders follow a pattern as old as Pharaoh’s in Egypt.

Jewish tradition has long recognized that antisemitism is not just ancient history but an ongoing reality. The Midrash teaches³ that during the period of Roman oppression, Jewish leaders turned to the Torah for guidance. They studied the story of Jacob and Esau⁴, seeing it as a model for navigating life under powerful, hostile rulers.

When Jacob returned to Canaan after many years away, he faced his twin brother Esau—leader of a violent tribe who seemed prepared for war. Jacob responded with a balanced strategy: he prayed to God, but he also prepared militarily⁵, used diplomacy, and offered gifts to soften Esau’s anger. In the end, this combination allowed Jacob to resolve the conflict without bloodshed.

Antisemitism is both ancient and modern—and so too is the relevance of the Torah. If the Jewish people, and the State of Israel today, are to understand their enemies and chart a wise course forward, the lessons of the Torah remain a powerful source of insight and inspiration.

Antisemitism: Fighting God

The persistence of antisemitism cannot be explained only as a tool of political manipulation. While scapegoating minorities has long been a strategy in the playbook of dictators, antisemitism seems to carry deeper, even theological dimensions. This is true both in ancient times and in more recent antisemitic movements.

The Nazis—the most vicious and destructive antisemites in history—appeared to genuinely believe in their cause. They pursued their genocidal plans with such fanatic commitment that they often acted against their own military and political interests. Their obsession with exterminating the Jews was carried out so thoroughly that it cannot be explained by politics alone.

What, then, was their motivation?

The Pulitzer Prize–winning author Herman Wouk, himself an observant Jew, addressed this question in his writings:

Hitler was unique. There was nothing accidental or merely maniacal in Hitler's great effort to kill the Jews. It was the crown of his career. Hitler saw himself as the apostle in action of the prophet Nietzsche, which creed was “God is dead.” He embraced the “death” of the Jewish God as a necessary step of the human race toward a higher existence, the day of the godless Superman. He wanted to lay the axe to the root of what he thought was a doomed society and morality; And he did a brilliant, terrifying job of it.

He did it with his pen. Hitler did it in earnest. An insane genius of politics, a whirling void of a man, senseless and terrible as a typhoon, Hitler moved along the path Nietzsche drew, parodying and prostituting his ideas, drenching them in blood, but following their contours as a typhoon follows the pressure lines of a barometric map. Six million Jews died. This was the tribute of nihilism to its own picture of the Jewish God. Throughout all history the strange persistence of the Jews had been taken as a witness to the presence of God in the universe. If God was dead, there was only one way to prove it, one of them that would stamp the fact forever on the hearts of men – the death of all the Jews. It was the logic of lunacy; but it could not have been, in its own terms, more rational.⁶

At its core, antisemitism is often an expression of the struggle that evil people wage against God. The Jewish people, as carriers of morality and Godliness, inevitably become the lightning rod for those who despise such ideals.

Antisemitism is often an expression of the struggle that evil people wage against God.

The Torah⁷ identifies an ancient nation, Amalek, as the first example of pure, unprovoked antisemitism. Unlike other enemies who fought for land, power, or resources, Amalek’s hatred of the Jews was not motivated by politics or self-interest. Their only goal was to destroy the Jewish people. Their hatred was so irrational that they would not even consider discussion or debate⁸. Violence and war were their only response.

A Midrash⁹ relates a striking story about Amalek, the founder of this nation, and his father Elifaz. After the revelation at Sinai and the birth of Israel as a people, Elifaz recognized that human history had shifted. He suggested that Amalek join the Jews in their mission to bring morality and holiness into the world. Amalek, however, reacted with immediate hostility. Rather than even consider his father’s suggestion, he chose to dedicate himself—and his descendants—to opposing the Jewish mission. From the very beginning, Amalek defined himself not by what he stood for, but by his determination to destroy what the Jews represented.

In this way, Amalek became the spiritual forerunner of later antisemites, including the Nazis. Like Amalek, the Nazis consciously understood that the Jews embodied a moral message—and they sought to eradicate it.

God commanded the Jewish people to fight Amalek, because no reasoning, no diplomacy, and no appeal to logic could change the mind of those consumed by pure hatred. Sadly, this lesson remains relevant in the modern era. At times, Jewish survival has depended not on dialogue or compromise, but on military defense against those who seek their destruction.¹⁰

Spiritual Protection from Antisemitism

If some forms of antisemitism arise because the Jewish people represent God’s morality in the world, it would seem natural to ask: Doesn’t God provide protection from such hatred? After all, if fulfilling the divine mission provokes backlash from those who oppose God, shouldn’t God Himself step in to defend His people? Surely a Jewish community sincerely striving to live up to its calling deserves divine protection.

Building on this idea, several great Jewish thinkers have taught that certain practices provide spiritual defense against antisemitism.

1. Jewish Pride

During the early years of the Egyptian exile, the Jewish people sought to reduce friction with their neighbors. They reasoned that their cultural distinctiveness created hostility, so they stopped practicing circumcision—the very first commandment God gave to Abraham. Their hope was that by blending in with Egyptian culture, they would earn acceptance. Instead, the opposite occurred: their oppression only deepened.

This episode is understood¹¹ as a warning against assimilation. When Jews contribute positively to society while also taking pride in their unique identity, they earn respect. But when they hide or feel ashamed of their Jewishness in pursuit of approval, they invite contempt. People are always more respected when they stand tall in who they are. Shame, on the other hand, makes one an easy target for bullying—or worse.

2. Commitment to Jewish Learning

A community that invests in Torah study and ensures access to authentic Jewish learning builds resilience and pride. A knowledgeable community is a strong community, and a strong community merits God’s protection in ways that scattered individuals cannot.

A community that invests in Torah study and ensures access to authentic Jewish learning builds resilience and pride.

There are also practical benefits. When Torah resources are available to the wider public, misunderstandings about Judaism are more easily corrected. This fosters respect among non-Jews, allowing ethical people outside the Jewish community to appreciate Jewish values. These shared understandings can form the basis of alliances that help combat antisemitism.¹²

3. Jewish Unity

Unity among Jews is perhaps the strongest shield of all. Jewish tradition compares the people in unity to a rock, and in disunity to a pile of dust. When a tidal wave crashes into a rock, it may be battered and shifted, but it remains whole. When the same wave hits a pile of dust, it scatters and disappears.

So too with the Jewish people: united, they may endure suffering but survive intact. Divided, individuals stand little chance against organized hatred.¹³

A Vital Caution

It must be emphasized: none of these ideas should ever be misused to suggest that Jews who have suffered from antisemitism were somehow “to blame.” Human suffering is a mystery that even Moses grappled with when he asked God¹⁴ to explain why the righteous suffer. The entire Book of Job wrestles with this very question.¹⁵ To claim, for example, individuals who perished in the Holocaust were punished for their sins is a grotesque distortion of Jewish teaching. One million innocent children were murdered—no theology can justify such evil.¹⁶

The lesson for us is not to assign blame, but to build the strongest and most resilient Jewish future possible. That means creating a community that is proud, learned, and united; a community that embraces every Jew with tolerance and care; a community that never underestimates the persistence of antisemitism and prepares wisely to face it.

We need to also never underestimate the evil motivations and persistence of our enemies. Acknowledging that our enemies hate who we are and what we represent will allow a strong, united Jewish people to mount the most effective defense.

And after we have done everything within our power, we turn to God with trust and prayer: “Behold! The Guardian of Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps.”

1. Commentary.org June 2005
2. The Hirsch Chumash, Shemos page 5
3. Bereishis Rabbah, 78:15, quoted in Ramban 33:15
4. Bereishis chapters 32-33
5. Rashi 32:8 quoting Tanchuma HaYashan 6
6. This Is My God, pages 258-259
7. Shemos 17:8-16
8. Darash Moshe page 416
9. Seder Eliahu Rabbah chapter 22. Quoted in Torah Shelema volume 14 page 253 footnote 50
10. Devarim 25:17-18. See Contemporary Halakhic Problems volume 1 page 17-18 about the modern relevance of the mitzvah to eradicate Amalek. Rabbi Chaim Soloveitchik is quoted as saying any group of people motivated purely by antisemitism may fall under this category.
11. Beis Halevi Parshas Shemos, Ha’amek Davar Bamidbar 23:8, She’er Yisrael chapters 3,5 and 6
12. See She’er Ysrael chapter 8
13. Haamek Davar Bereishis 49:24
14. Berachos 7a
15. Bava Basra 15a Rashi “mashal haya” Moreh HaNevuchim 3:22
16. See Selected Speeches of Rav Shimon Schwab pages 30-36