Challenging the Equivalence: Anti-Zionism, Anti-Imperialism, and the Misconceptions of Religious Hatred

“I got a letter from the government, the other day.

I opened and read it, it said they were suckas.”

Chuck D, Public Enemy

On May 1st, 2024, in reaction to the growing anti-war protests around the Israeli invasion of Palestinian territories, the murder of 40,000 Palestinian men, women, and children, and the destruction of Gaza and the subsequent refugee crisis, the United States House of Representatives overwhelmingly passed a bill expanding the federal definition of anti-Semitism. This bill, if passed, will codify a definition of anti-Semitism created by the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA). According to this definition, if one is critical of the founding and sustaining of the state of Israel as being racist in concept and practice, that criticism is deemed anti-Semitic, branding the individual as anti-Semitic for holding such views.

The bill also addresses speech and actions related to educational institutions. It stipulates that universities and colleges receiving federal funding must adopt and enforce this expanded definition of anti-Semitism. This could have significant implications for academic freedom, particularly in fields such as Middle Eastern studies, political science, and history, where critical discussions about Israeli policies and practices are common. Professors, students, and academic institutions may find themselves navigating a precarious landscape where legitimate criticism could be construed as hate speech, potentially leading to disciplinary actions or funding cuts.

Moreover, the bill provides for enhanced monitoring and reporting mechanisms. Federal agencies, including the Department of Education and the Department of Justice, are mandated to track and report incidents of anti-Semitism as defined by this new standard. This includes both physical acts of violence and verbal or written expressions deemed to be anti-Semitic. The bill also outlines penalties for individuals and organizations found to be in violation of these new guidelines, ranging from fines to imprisonment, depending on the severity and nature of the offense.

The bill goes further by outlining specific examples of what would now be considered anti-Semitic under this new definition. These include accusing Jewish citizens of being more loyal to Israel, or to the alleged priorities of Jews worldwide, than to the interests of their own nations. It also includes denying the Jewish people their right to self-determination by claiming that the existence of a State of Israel is a racist endeavor.

At that moment, I realized that, according to this new definition and regardless of my undying love for my friends and family who are Jewish, I too may now be seen as anti-Semitic. My understanding of the new definition suggests that I am considered anti-Semitic because I view the founding and existence of Israel by Zionist and Allied nations as an illegal occupation of Palestine. I believe that the 76 years of racist laws, settler colonialism, apartheid, and the destruction of Palestinian land and bodies constitute a genocide. This realization did not come without significant introspection and internal conflict. Despite my deep respect and love for Jewish culture and my Jewish friends and family, I cannot reconcile my ethical stance against what I see as the ongoing oppression and systemic violence against Palestinians with this imposed label of anti-Semitism. It seems incongruous to me that a genuine critique of a nation's policies and actions, especially when these policies result in the systemic marginalization and violence against another group, should be conflated with hatred against a religious or ethnic group. Yet, I find myself categorized under this expanded and, in my view, problematic definition.

And that's alright with me. I have come to terms with this label because my stance is rooted in a commitment to justice and human rights. I cannot and will not remain silent about the suffering of the Palestinian people, nor will I allow the fear of being mislabeled to deter me from speaking out against what I perceive as grave injustices. If standing against what I believe to be apartheid, settler colonialism, and genocide makes me anti-Semitic under this new law, then I accept that label, not out of disdain for Jewish people, but out of a profound dedication to truth and justice for all oppressed peoples. My hope is that, through open dialogue and continued advocacy, the complexities and nuances of these issues can be understood and that genuine solidarity among all oppressed groups can be achieved without unjust and oversimplified accusations.

I also understand the founding of America, Britain, Australia, and European nations as a form of settler colonialism, reinforced by genocide, apartheid, and racist laws against Indigenous Americans and Africans. This perspective naturally leads me to the conclusion that, according to the same logic applied to the new definition of anti-Semitism, I might also be considered anti-White and/or anti-Christian. If opposing the historical and ongoing injustices perpetrated by these nations and their dominant religious institutions—actions that include the systemic oppression and violent subjugation of native populations and people of African descent—means I am labeled as anti-White or anti-Christian, then I accept that label. However, it's essential to clarify that this perspective is not rooted in a hatred of individuals but in a critical stance against the oppressive systems and historical injustices these labels represent.

Expanding this logic further, if criticizing oppressive laws against Arab women, religious fundamentalism—whether practiced in isolation or integrated into social policies—Arab slavery, or any tradition that sanctions harmful actions against others in the name of a deity, holy book, or religious idea makes me anti-Muslim, then so be it. My stance is against any form of oppression and dehumanization, regardless of the religious or cultural context in which it occurs. I oppose any actions that harm others under the guise of religious doctrine, which has often been used to justify injustice rather than promote societal well-being.

In this vein, if opposing the Buddhist nationalists of Myanmar who support a military government that encourages violence and oppression against the Rohingya minority makes me anti-Buddhist, I accept that label as well. My disagreement lies not with the core teachings of Buddhism but with the distortion of these teachings to justify and perpetuate violence and discrimination. Standing up against the dehumanization of any group, whether based on religion, race, or nationality, is a moral imperative.

I am content with all these labels if they mean standing up against dehumanization and oppression. The confusion does not lie within my stance but rather with those who continue the failed, centuries-long attempt to conflate religion, race, and the right to dominate others. It is not my commitment to justice and equality that is flawed, but the systems that perpetuate inequality and justify domination in the name of religion or race. By accepting these labels, I assert my dedication to challenging and dismantling these oppressive systems, striving for a world where all people are treated with dignity and respect.The writing that follows seeks to unpack these misconceptions and draw parallels with other political stances, such as being anti-American or anti-British imperialism, and the misinterpretation that these stances equate to being anti-Christian, or opposing Arab slavery equating to being anti-Muslim.

The discourse surrounding political stances such as anti-Zionism, anti-imperialism, and anti-colonialism is often muddied by accusations of religious bigotry. For example, critics frequently equate anti-Zionism with anti-Semitism, despite the nuanced differences between opposition to a political ideology and hatred of a religious group.

The truth lies in distinguishing between opposition to harmful political actions and genuine religious intolerance. This distinction is crucial for understanding the complexities of historical and contemporary conflicts where religion and politics intersect.

Historical Context of Religious and Political Intersections

Throughout history, political entities have often used religion to justify their actions. However, opposition to these actions should not be conflated with opposition to the religion itself. For instance, the Crusades, sanctioned by the Catholic Church, led to widespread violence and conquest in the name of Christianity. Yet, opposing the Crusades does not imply anti-Christian sentiment but rather a stance against the violent and imperialistic endeavors carried out under its banner.

Similarly, British imperialism, which saw the colonization of vast territories around the globe, was often justified through a civilizing mission steeped in Christian rhetoric. Figures such as Cecil Rhodes epitomized this mindset, believing that British expansion was divinely ordained. Criticizing British imperialism, therefore, should be viewed as a critique of the harmful political and economic policies rather than an attack on Christianity.

In more recent history, the establishment of the state of Israel in 1948 and the subsequent geopolitical conflicts have made anti-Zionism a contentious issue. The conflation of anti-Zionism with anti-Semitism ignores the fact that many Jewish individuals and groups oppose Zionist policies and advocate for Palestinian rights. Theodor Herzl, the father of modern political Zionism, envisioned a homeland for Jews, but opposition to his vision often stems from the displacement and suffering of Palestinians, rather than anti-Jewish sentiment.

Religion and Harm: Beyond Simple Dichotomies

Religion has often been implicated in justifying harm against others, but this does not mean that the religions themselves are inherently harmful. Rather, it is the manipulation of religious narratives by political leaders that often leads to conflict. For instance, the transatlantic slave trade, which saw the forced displacement and brutalization of millions of Africans, was justified by some using Christian doctrine. The Curse of Ham, a misinterpretation of a biblical story, was used to rationalize the enslavement of Black people. Yet, this use of Christianity to justify slavery does not mean that Christianity inherently supports such atrocities.

Islam has similarly been manipulated to justify harmful practices. The historical Arab slave trade, which predated the transatlantic slave trade, saw millions of Africans and other non-Arabs enslaved. Some used Islamic texts to justify these actions, yet many Muslim scholars and leaders have condemned slavery as antithetical to Islamic principles. The complexities within Islamic jurisprudence and the differing interpretations highlight that the religion itself does not uniformly support such practices.

Buddhism is often perceived as a religion of peace, yet in Myanmar, Buddhist nationalists have supported the military government's violent actions against the Rohingya minority. Monks like Ashin Wirathu have used their religious influence to incite hatred and violence, conflating religious and ethnic nationalism. This manipulation of Buddhism for political ends underscores the danger of using religion to justify harm.

Belief as a Basis for Brutality

Religions have yet to prove through belief alone that their traditions deserve to be seen as inherently valid or superior. Without evidence of the truth of their doctrines or the demonstrable efficacy and benefit of these beliefs in everyday society, it is unjustifiable for any religion to claim a right to infringe upon the rights, lands, bodies, lives, or happiness of others. The demand for evidence and positive impact is crucial in evaluating the legitimacy of religious claims to moral or political superiority. The actions of followers and the tangible benefits they bring to society are far more telling of a religion’s value than doctrinal assertions.

The notion of taking as true that which one believes, irrespective of empirical evidence, has historically been a potent force behind religious justifications for conquest and domination. This concept, often rooted in the idea of divine mandate or manifest destiny, has enabled religious and political leaders to validate their actions and impose their beliefs on others. The belief in an unquestionable truth, sanctioned by a higher power, creates a moral imperative that overrides secular considerations of justice and humanity. This has been a driving factor in numerous historical events, where the certainty of faith was wielded as a weapon for expansion and control.

For instance, the doctrine of manifest destiny, a 19th-century belief that the United States was destined by God to expand across the North American continent, encapsulates this mindset. This belief was not based on empirical evidence or rational argument but on a deep-seated conviction in a divine plan. President James K. Polk and other proponents of manifest destiny used this belief to justify the annexation of territories and the displacement of indigenous peoples. The notion that their actions were divinely sanctioned provided a moral cover for acts that would otherwise be seen as aggressive and unjust. As John L. O’Sullivan, a key proponent, articulated, it was America's "manifest destiny to overspread the continent allotted by Providence for the free development of our yearly multiplying millions."

Similarly, during the Crusades, European Christians embarked on military campaigns to reclaim the Holy Land from Muslim control. These campaigns were fueled by the belief that God had ordained them to take up the cross and fight in His name. Pope Urban II's call to arms at the Council of Clermont in 1095 is a notable example, where he promised absolution and remission of sins for those who joined the Crusade. The fervent belief in divine favor and the righteousness of their cause led to a series of brutal conflicts, justified by the conviction that they were executing God's will. This narrative of divine mandate allowed the Crusaders to rationalize their conquest and the atrocities committed in the name of their faith.

The Spanish Inquisition further illustrates how belief in an unprovable religious truth can lead to the justification of oppression and violence. The Catholic Church, convinced of the absolute truth of its doctrines, sought to root out heresy and enforce religious conformity. Figures like Tomás de Torquemada, the Grand Inquisitor, believed that preserving the purity of the faith justified the use of torture and execution. The Inquisition's actions were driven by a belief in the necessity of protecting and spreading their perceived divine truth, often at the expense of human rights and lives. This unshakeable conviction in the superiority of their religious beliefs led to centuries of persecution and suffering for those deemed heretics or non-believers.

These historical examples underscore how the belief in a divinely sanctioned truth, unsubstantiated by empirical evidence, can become a powerful justification for conquest and domination. This mindset, which prioritizes religious conviction over evidence and ethical considerations, has led to some of the most egregious acts of violence and oppression in human history. It highlights the dangers of allowing unproven beliefs to dictate actions that have far-reaching and often devastating consequences for others.

Imperialism and Religion: A Symbiotic Relationship

Imperialism has often co-opted religion to legitimize its expansionist ambitions. The Spanish and Portuguese conquests of the Americas were framed as missions to convert indigenous peoples to Christianity. The doctrine of discovery, supported by papal bulls, provided a religious veneer to the brutal colonization and exploitation of native populations.

Similarly, in the Middle East, Western powers have used religious divisions to further their imperial interests. The Sykes-Picot Agreement, which divided the Ottoman Empire's Arab provinces between Britain and France, disregarded ethnic and religious complexities, leading to long-term instability and conflict. These actions were justified through a combination of religious and political rhetoric, yet opposing these policies is not synonymous with being anti-Christian or anti-Islamic.

Protecting Nations and Religions Through Ethical Governance

To safeguard both national sovereignty and the integrity of religious traditions, nations must prioritize ethical governance that aligns with the core values of their religious and cultural heritage. This approach requires a commitment to justice, equality, and respect for human rights.

Bringing the heart of religious traditions into nation-building involves interpreting sacred texts in ways that emphasize compassion, mercy, and the dignity of all people. For example, the concept of Tikkun Olam in Judaism, which means repairing the world, can inspire policies that promote social justice and environmental stewardship. Similarly, the Islamic principle of Rahmatan lil Alamin (mercy to all the worlds) can guide nations towards policies that uphold the well-being of all people, regardless of faith or background.

Interfaith dialogue and cooperation can also play a crucial role in preventing the misuse of religion for political ends. By fostering mutual understanding and respect among different religious communities, nations can build more cohesive and resilient societies. This approach not only counters the narrative of religious intolerance but also strengthens the moral and ethical foundations of national policies.

Relevant Historical Figures and Their Contributions

Numerous historical figures have exemplified the distinction between opposing harmful political actions and respecting religious traditions. Mahatma Gandhi, for instance, led the Indian independence movement against British colonial rule while maintaining deep respect for all religions. His philosophy of non-violence (ahimsa) was rooted in Hindu, Jain, and Christian teachings, demonstrating that one can oppose imperialism without being anti-religious.

Martin Luther King Jr., a Christian minister, drew on his religious beliefs to challenge racial segregation and discrimination in the United States. His opposition to systemic racism was not an attack on Christianity but a call to live up to its highest moral ideals. King’s famous “Letter from Birmingham Jail” eloquently articulated this stance, urging Christian leaders to support the fight for civil rights.

In the Muslim world, figures like Malcolm X and Ali Shariati have critiqued the misuse of Islam to justify oppression while advocating for a more just and equitable interpretation of the faith. Malcolm X, after his pilgrimage to Mecca, emphasized the universal brotherhood of Islam and used his faith to advocate for racial justice. Ali Shariati, an Iranian intellectual, argued that true Islam supports the oppressed and challenges tyrannical power structures.

The Role of National and International Policies

National and international policies must reflect a commitment to human rights and the protection of all peoples from harm. This requires a reevaluation of historical and contemporary injustices and the implementation of policies that address these wrongs. Reparations for slavery and colonialism, for example, are not merely about financial compensation but about acknowledging historical injustices and committing to rectifying their lasting impacts.

Educational initiatives that promote an accurate understanding of history and the complex interplay between religion and politics are essential. By teaching future generations about the nuances of these issues, societies can foster a more informed and empathetic citizenry capable of resisting simplistic and harmful narratives.

International organizations like the United Nations have a crucial role to play in promoting and enforcing standards that protect human rights and prevent the misuse of religion for political purposes. By holding nations accountable for their actions and supporting efforts to rectify historical injustices, these organizations can help create a more just and equitable global community.

Towards a More Just and Compassionate World

The conflation of political opposition with religious bigotry obscures the real issues at stake and undermines efforts to address systemic injustices. By distinguishing between opposition to harmful political actions and genuine religious intolerance, we can more effectively challenge imperialism, colonialism, and other forms of oppression.

Religions, when interpreted in their most compassionate and just forms, can provide powerful ethical frameworks for creating a more just and equitable world. By bringing the heart of religious traditions into nation-building and international cooperation, we can move towards a future where the dignity and rights of all people are respected.

Ultimately, protecting nations and religions from harm requires a commitment to ethical governance, interfaith dialogue, and a deep respect for the core values of all religious traditions. By focusing on these principles, we can build a world where true liberation is possible, and where the harmful legacies of imperialism and colonialism are finally addressed.

This approach not only counters the narrative of religious intolerance but also strengthens the moral and ethical foundations of national policies. It is through this lens of compassion, justice, and respect for human dignity that we can hope to achieve a world where all people are truly free.

Justin F. Miles

~ Freedom is a long walk and liberation is everpresent.