Mahmoud Khalil wants to reassure the Jewish community. In an extensive new interview with the Forward, the pro-Palestinian protest leader recognized “a Jewish connection” to Israel, and promised that a free Palestine would include safety and security for Jewish residents.

And yet I read the interview and felt a sense of alarm.

Not because Khalil seems insincere. I believe he means much of what he says. But rather because his attempts to instill confidence fall short in ways that illuminate exactly why so many Jews remain afraid and skeptical of the anti-Zionist movement.

Serious causes for serious concerns

Khalil describes himself as a pragmatist. In his activism, however, he envisions a utopia.

He is adamant that a two-state solution preserving a Jewish majority in Israel is a nonstarter. He argues, instead, for a democratic country — or multiple countries — across Israel, the West Bank and Gaza, with equal rights for all and the right of return for Palestinian refugees.

“I know it might sound like a very ideal utopia,” he told the Forward‘s Arno Rosenfeld, “but this is what we should aspire for.”

Khalil is concerned that Jewish fear is an obstacle to Palestinian liberation, and suggests that this fear is misplaced. “People think that we want to drive all Jews to the sea,” he said. “We don’t believe that.”

But history has long shown that Jewish safety without Jewish autonomy often proves conditional. In the ideal that Khalil advances, Israel would lose the self-determination that leads so many Jews to view it as a safe haven. My late grandfather, who was deported to a Siberian gulag by the Soviets from Lithuania —  where about 90% of his fellow Jews were murdered by the Nazis — put it simply: Israel was a place where he felt his fate was in his own hands.

Nor is apprehension of anti-Zionism misplaced. Report after report has cataloged persistent harassment of Jews, threats of violence against Zionists, and invocations of antisemitic tropes within anti-Zionist movements. Yes, there are moderates, many of whom are driven by a commitment to a better future for Palestinians. But there are also extremists, and scenes on campuses and city streets around the world have shown that their tactics often prevail.

Adding to Jews’ sense of alarm are decades of violence within Israel — including the Second Intifada and Hamas’ Oct. 7, 2023 attack — and globally, including recent violence against American Jewish institutions. Jews are not scared because we misunderstand the aims of the anti-Zionist movement. We are scared for good reason.

Political abstractions

A genuine effort at reassurance would engage with that truth. Instead, Khalil dances around it, suggesting that the thing we’re worried about doesn’t actually exist. He says, for example, that the pro-Palestinian campus movement did a good job of keeping antisemitism at bay. It did not.

Even when it comes to the well-established facts of Hamas’ Oct. 7 massacre, he demurs: “I wouldn’t rule out that Hamas targeted civilians,” he said, “but I wouldn’t confirm it either.”

When referencing the excesses of pro-Palestinian campus protests, Khalil retreated into vague language. “There were maybe some bad actors,” he said. His denunciations of antisemitism remained safely generic: “some anti-Zionist actions may touch on antisemitism that we absolutely oppose.”

Who, exactly, is “we” here?

Political movements are not abstractions. They consist of real people doing real things. When excesses are common enough, they become characteristic. This is something I’ve long argued about the Israeli right as well. We cannot dismiss settler violence or anti-Palestinian abuses as fringe when they keep escalating and enjoy support from those in power.

It’s easy to say you oppose antisemitism or suffering by Palestinians, or that a utopian future is possible if we all look past our fear. It’s much harder to look within your political coalition and call out the specific negative acts your allies have committed — or acknowledge their very real consequences.

Denial and Oct. 7

Circle back to Khalil’s alarming equivocation about Oct. 7.

He frames the killings as civilians being “caught up” in violence, not targeted by it. Notice the evasive grammar: Khalil says “there were crimes committed” and Hamas has “a responsibility,” rather than “Hamas committed crimes.”

Khalil does explicitly say that he thinks Hamas is “not up to the Palestinian aspiration for liberation” and that he “doesn’t believe in political Islam.” But for someone so attuned to the language of liberation and justice, he is remarkably comfortable with passive voice when it comes to Hamas carrying out horrific murders on Oct. 7.

As I’ve previously written, the evidentiary record is overwhelming. Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch, organizations critical of Israel, independently concluded that Hamas deliberately and systematically targeted civilians. In one intercepted call, a Hamas terrorist bragged to his parents, “Look how many I killed with my own hands! Your son killed Jews!”

Neutrality on established facts is no different than denialism. If you are trying to reassure Jews but can’t acknowledge that Hamas killed Jews as such, any reassurance you have to offer will ring hollow.

A practical peace

Khalil says he is opposed to any violence against civilians but cannot dictate what Palestinians who experience Israeli human rights abuses should do. He says he understands why Palestinians turn to resistance, even violence, in the face of oppression.

But if you say you understand why decades of oppression push Palestinians toward resistance, then you should also understand why decades of terrorism push Israelis toward aggressive security measures, including ones that harm Palestinian civilians. If every act is merely a justified reaction to a prior act, we will end up in a world in which it’s too easy to argue that all violence is legitimate, rather than none of it.

The deep culture of mutual suspicion that this painful history has bred may be the biggest obstacle to Khalil’s utopian vision.

I share Khalil’s aspirations for peace. But Israelis, even most liberals, leftists and the millions who have protested the right-wing government, say they won’t accept a one-state solution. One 2025 poll by The Institute for National Security Studies, an independent think tank affiliated with Tel Aviv University, found that only 4% of all Israelis, and 1% of Israeli Jews, prefer a one-state solution with equal rights. Palestinians, too, are skeptical of a single state with equal rights.

At the same time, many Israelis oppose a two-state solution. So do many Palestinians. The people who live in the region hold complicated and often contradictory ideas of the path forward, and Khalil does not necessarily speak on their behalf.

Any anti-Zionist looking to reassure Jews needs to, at minimum, acknowledge that Hamas killed civilians deliberately, because they were Jews; condemn specific instances of antisemitism rather than just the concept in the abstract; and ask why Jews are scared right now, rather than telling us we shouldn’t be.

Yet Khalil’s reticence to be honest about his own movement’s flaws is a mirror of our own. Supporters of Israel have long been reluctant to name the failures of the Israeli right and to reckon with how settlements and the occupation harm Palestinians.

Khalil recounts being born in the Palestinian refugee camp Khan Eshieh in Syria, and raised on stories of his grandparents’ expulsion from a village near Tiberias. He was shot by an Israeli soldier when he was just 16. His effort to nevertheless engage with Israeli perspectives, like by reading Ari Shavit, is admirable. Jews should similarly listen to Palestinian perspectives and sit with Palestinian stories, including Khalil’s and those of Palestinians living today in the West Bank and Gaza.

The only way for any of us to build a durable political movement is to be exactingly honest about the ways in which we have, so far, failed, and to ask others with open ears: Why are you so scared?

The post Mahmoud Khalil’s anti-Zionist case to Jews shows the case for skepticism appeared first on The Forward.

In his recent interview with the Forward, prominent Palestinian activist Mahmoud Khalil attempted to address claims that he’s an antisemite, that he supports Hamas, and that as a leader of Columbia’s anti-Israel encampments he helped foster hostility towards Jewish students and Jews generally.

Khalil says he’s offended by such claims, but by refusing to say whether Hamas deliberately targeted civilians on Oct. 7, confirmed by both Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch, how is he not providing coverage for Hamas?

The Forward attempts to present Khalil as a pragmatic moderate. But someone who can’t confirm what human rights investigators documented about the worst massacre of Jews since the Holocaust is not offering any real reassurances. Instead, he is only offering a performance.

An even deeper problem with Khalil is not what it means for Jews, but what it does to Palestinians. I say this as someone who has spent time in places where the gap between rhetoric and reality gets people killed.

In 2004, I was a young Marine officer building one of the first successful Iraqi military units in Iraq’s restive Al Anbar Province. My soldiers were mostly Shia, and many bore marks of torture from Saddam Hussein’s prisons, including scars and missing fingers.

One evening, I was watching the news with my Iraqi officers. We watched reports of Israeli tanks pushing into Gaza. I braced for anger and protests and was shocked when they started cheering for the Israelis. One of them quickly explained to me that Saddam had used the Palestinian cause to distract from his own atrocities at home. His support and alliance with Yasser Arafat and other Palestinian leaders was not out of solidarity, but rather as a tool of domestic control. My Iraqi soldiers had paid the price.

After leaving the Marines I visited Lebanon and Jordan, while working to help many of our translators we had left behind. During these visits, I walked through Sabra and Shatila, where Lebanese militias massacred hundreds, possibly thousands, of Palestinian civilians in 1982. I visited refugee camps in Jordan, not tents but cities, brick and mortar, generations deep, people suspended in political amber while the leaders who claimed to speak for them extracted whatever use they could.

During these visits, it was hard not to conclude that Palestinian suffering had been prolonged not only by Israel, but by a regional order that finds Palestinian statelessness useful. Khalil’s vision fits that order perfectly. It offers Palestinians justice in theory, but in reality only guaranteeing them decades of more suffering and tragedy. The people who benefit are not Palestinians in Gaza, but those who have built careers on book deals, speaking fees and endowed chairs on a cause they have no interest in resolving.

The brutal, tragic, and awful reality is that there is not a nation-state on Earth, maybe other than Iceland, that was not created through conflict and displacement. Throughout the Americas, it was the catastrophe that befell indigenous peoples, swept aside by European settlers over centuries of conquest and disease. Most of Western Europe’s borders hardened through revolution and the violent suppression of regional identities. Poland was erased from the map for a hundred years, then reconstituted after two world wars through mass population transfers that uprooted millions. The partition of India and Pakistan in 1947 displaced 15 million people and killed up to two million more. China’s borders were drawn through civil war, revolution, and the subjugation of non-Han peoples.

Every post-Ottoman Arab state, Jordan, Syria, Lebanon, Iraq, was created by European colonial powers drawing lines through tribal and sectarian areas with indifference to the consequences that are still felt today. The entire modern state system is built on this foundation: land taken, people moved, suffering endured, and eventually, when both sides accepted finality, a durable peace.

Either Khalil believes every nation-state on Earth should be dismantled, or he is applying a standard that exists for Jews and Jews alone. The entire Arab world spans 13 million square kilometers and nearly half a billion people. Israel barely covers 22,000 square kilometers and is home to only 7 million Jews. Khalil doesn’t call for the dissolution of Jordan, doesn’t demand China answer for Tibet, or push for the right of return for millions of Hindus and Muslims displaced by the partition of India and Pakistan. He saves that demand for the one Jewish state on Earth, a nation smaller than New Jersey, surrounded by a region that has tried to destroy its people repeatedly. This is antisemitism through the vocabulary of liberation.

Look at where peace has actually come from. Northern Ireland’s Troubles killed thousands over 30 years, a conflict soaked in ancient grievance, religious identity, and competing claims to land and sovereignty that each side considered non-negotiable. It ended not when one side achieved its maximal demands, but when the Good Friday Agreement gave both communities something short of victory and something better than war. Unionists did not get the permanent British Ulster they wanted. Republicans did not get the unified Ireland they had fought and died for. They got a future. In the Balkans, a decade of wars that produced ethnic cleansing, mass atrocity, and the worst European violence since World War II finally yielded to exhaustion and the hard work of partition and negotiated borders. The map that emerged was not just. It was livable. That distinction, between justice as an absolute and peace as a possibility, is the one Khalil refuses to make.

Khalil’s vision has been tried, in different forms and different names, for 70 years. It has not produced peace. It has produced more of exactly what he says he wants to end.

The only path forward is the one he refuses: two peoples, two states, a future neither side fully wants, but both can live with. Everything else is a jobs program for people who profit from the conflict, paid for in Palestinian lives.

His reassurances are hollow to Jews. They are fatal to Palestinians.

The post Mahmoud Khalil’s reassurances are bad for Jews but even worse for Palestinians appeared first on The Forward.

Ye, the rapper formerly known as Kanye West, is having an interesting April.

Fans are hailing his new album Bully as a return to form. (Critics are more mixed.) He reportedly made $33 million from two sold-out shows in Los Angeles, but he was also banned from entering the U.K. owing to a pressure campaign by Jewish groups over a scheduled headlining performance at the Wired music festival, even as the artist, who recently attributed his antisemitic behavior to a brain injury and bipolar disorder, offered to have “meet and listen” sessions with the Jewish community.

On top of this mixed reception, add a movie premiere. Ye has a memorable cameo in Jonah Hill’s new AppleTV+ film The Outcome, about an A-list actor’s teshuvah tour. And that moment has something to say about what to do with the artist’s outbursts.

Hill’s character, a crass crisis lawyer named Ira, assembles a dream team to protect his client, Reef Hawk (Keanu Reeves), who is awaiting the release of an incriminating video. The nature of this video is unknown beyond its potential to derail his comeback after a five-year sabbatical to treat a secret heroin addiction. Among Reef’s potential defenders are a Gloria Allred-style lawyer (Laverne Cox), a Black minister legendary for his work on civil rights (Roy Wood Jr.) and an ambassador from the Asian-American community (Atsuko Okatsuka). Ira notes someone missing from the mix, one “Moshe, from the Antisemitism Committee,” perhaps a poorly-named stand-in for the ADL.

“We ran the numbers,” Ira’s assistant says by way of explanation. “It turns out that hating Jews doesn’t negatively affect a person’s career. In fact, it could help.”

And we cut to a black-and-white headshot of Ye, occupying the whole screen.

Hill explained this choice in an interview with TMZ, saying the scene wasn’t just there to score a cheap shot at Ye, who publicly (and compellingly) apologized in an ad in the Wall Street Journal in January.

“In the midst of all this Jew stuff, he did Instagram a picture of me in the 21 Jump Street poster,” Hill recalled. “And he said something along the lines of ‘I don’t hate Jews anymore because I love Jonah Hill.’”

“Me and him got no beef,” Hill continued.” I just put that in there like, ‘Yo, you’re gonna f—ing put the 21 Jump Street poster up there and say you don’t hate Jews anymore. That’s pretty wild. I’m gonna put a picture of you saying that like, hating Jews helps your career.’”

Clearly a sight gag and a bit of an inside joke. But is it true?

Running my own numbers, and not even accounting for this last week of ups and downs, Ye took a major hit to his net worth when he lost his Adidas partnership, backsliding all the way from billionaire to mere multimillionaire. Fans still turn up for Ye, and some even seem to like what I’ll call his Hitler catalogue. That said, it’s hard to imagine him making a full recovery, once again gracing the stage at the Grammys or headlining a major festival or getting a shot at the Super Bowl halftime show.

The difference between Ye’s transgression and that of others is instructive. There’s plenty of arguable antisemitism in the case of celebrities whose pro-Palestinian advocacy has crossed the line into something unsavory. Rappers Bob Vylan of “death, death to the IDF” fame and Kneecap, who chanted “up Hamas, up Hezbollah,” come to mind. They have had their own brushes with cancellation and been denied visas because of their antics — but also strong support from those who believe they are simply speaking up for Palestinians. The ascendancy of Israel conspiracies, echoing age old canards, has recently produced an odd coalition between pundits on the far-left and far-right, and hasn’t put a dent in their audience.

(Hill, though Jewish, was accused of dabbling in Jewish stereotypes his last film, You People, and he will likely get some flack for this movie, both for his character — a kind of grubby fixer who calls his client “Bubbie” — and for a joke where Man’s Search for Meaning is referred to as “the most lit Holocaust book.”)

Even in this environment, Ye is toxic for mainstream consumption, because when he went “death con 3” on the Jews, his words had no agenda beyond delusion-fueled animus about Jewish control of the media. Ye’s awareness of the Middle East was best expressed on the occasion he used a fish tank net and Yoo-hoo bottle to represent the Israeli prime minister. Vylan and Kneecap’s slogans are more subtle and plausibly deniable than one of Ye’s latest tracks, literally called “Heil Hitler.”

There was no hedging it, try as Candace Owens might. It was Jew Hate Classic, the original recipe. And it wasn’t, in the case of Mel Gibson, a pattern that emerged over relatively wide gaps of time with only one incident widely known to the general public. It was an endless, often marathon torrent of invective and odd tangents care of an unmedicated bipolar insomniac. It went on for months. Then died off. Then came back swinging in the form of an album the concept of which could, charitably, be defined as spiritually Hitlerian.

The sheer concentration of vitriol seems like proof that the outburst was the result of a manic episode, which could afford the rapper some grace. Instead, he now lives in a liminal space between relevance and punchline. This strain of antisemitism doesn’t boost careers — yet — but the man behind it can sell out stadiums in spite of it.

All the while, the question of what to do with Ye’s mental health, and how it factors into his cancellation makes him a conundrum, even if it should by rights be a better excuse than Mel Gibson’s squad car in vino veritas. (Gibson is mentioned in the film, in the context of a poppers-related Weekend at Bernie’s scenario, not his own scandal.) Before we render a judgment, we need commitments he won’t repeat his tirades and so continue to influence looksmaxxers, incels and their overlapping Venn Diagram of Nazi revivalists.

Hill’s belief that Ye’s antisemitic streak was good for business is symptomatic of something fundamentally off with the director’s treatment of cancel culture. It feels out-of-touch even — or maybe because — it draws from experience. Hill himself was the victim of cancellation some years ago, when his ex leaked texts in which he weaponized “therapy talk.” Hill’s project, with a cast that includes Reeves, Van Jones, Martin Scorsese, Drew Barrymore and a rare appearance from Cameron Diaz, is itself proof of how not all cancellations are created equal or indefinite.

The Outcome is in tension with itself, part Hill’s version of Don Henley’s “Dirty Laundry” and Seth Rogen’s The Studio, part earnest penance that may or may not be coming from the director-writer himself.

One of the lines, delivered by Reef’s reality star mother (soap opera icon Susan Lucci), as a crew films their rapprochement for Bravo, sums the film up nicely: “Just because it’s performative doesn’t mean it’s not the truth.” We’ll have to take her word for it.

When it comes to Ye, there is some truth that antisemitism alone can’t crater a career — with the exception of lesser talents, it never could. We need not wonder how it has affected Ye’s popularity with Hill, who cited him on TMZ as “probably the greatest artist whoever lived.”

As Ira departs the film, we see his bumper sticker: “Honk if you can separate the art from the artist.” Hill would blow out the horn, and hopes you might too.

Jonah Hill’s The Outcome debits April 10 on AppleTV+.

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