Something happened while I was writing a book about how to fight antisemitism.

Forget internal arguments over hyphens or whether to call it “Jew-hate.” A new movement is beginning to form around using the word “antizionism” instead. At first, I was skeptical. Did we really need another term?

I’ve always understood that antisemitism adapts to the times and, like a parasite, hitches a ride on whatever version of anti-Jewish hatred is socially acceptable. But I’m beginning to understand that antizionism is different — and that the distinction matters. It gives antisemites plausible deniability for their hatred, and we need a new set of tools to fight it.

At the forefront of this effort to reclaim the language is anthropologist Adam Louis-Klein, who has led a push on social media to change the way we think about antizionism and to name it as a hate movement. He launched an organization, the Movement Against Antizionism, to advocate for this shift. His message is gaining traction because it offers something Jews desperately need: a framework for understanding — and fighting back.

The 32-year-old PhD candidate in anthropology was studying indigenous religion with the Desana people in the Colombian Amazon on October 7, 2023. On October 9, he arrived in a town with Internet access and opened his computer. He saw images from the Nova music festival massacre — and friends posting photos of burning Israeli flags, professing loyalty to “the resistance.”

What happened next was swift. PhD students stopped talking to him. Professors no longer wanted to be associated with him. He was marked as a “Zionist” simply for acknowledging that antisemitism existed.

Louis-Klein then launched the Movement Against Antizionism. A word about hyphens: he removes it deliberately. Without the hyphen, antizionism becomes its own ideology — a distinct hate movement rather than simply opposition to Zionism. [The Algemeiner still spells the movement anti-Zionism, but is using antizionism for the purposes of this op-ed.]

“The key is giving Jews the language to explain what they’re experiencing right now,” Louis-Klein told me recently. “Antizionists aren’t interested in debate. They create a scene of accusation — show trial — where you’re dragged into the courtroom and told to defend yourself.”

Louis-Klein’s core insight comes from studying how hatred evolves. Jew-hatred has always adapted to fit the moral codes of its era. Medieval accusations — killing Jesus, using Christian children’s blood for matzah — were rooted in religious doctrine. In the 19th century, when religious hatred seemed primitive, antisemites reframed their bigotry scientifically, casting Jews as a dangerous race. Each era’s version felt righteous because it aligned with contemporary values.

Today’s libels follow the same pattern. Louis-Klein points to three core accusations: “colonizer,” “apartheid,” “genocide.” These aren’t random insults — they’re the inverse of our civilization’s fundamental moral codes. After World War II, genocide and racism became absolute evils. Civil rights movements established racial discrimination as morally wrong. Decolonization rejected Western imperialism. When antizionists call Israel a genocidal, apartheid, settler-colonial state, they’re invoking the most powerful moral condemnations our culture recognizes.

This is why antizionists genuinely believe they’re righteous, and why Jews struggle to name what’s happening. Antizionists aren’t using classical tropes about big noses or controlling banks, so they insist, “It’s not antisemitic.”

This is where Louis-Klein’s approach becomes practical. The obvious objection: if antizionists already call themselves that, how does adopting their term help us? His answer is strategic. Jews have been trying to prove that antizionism equals antisemitism, and antizionists simply deny it. It becomes an endless, unwinnable argument. Instead, Louis-Klein says, we should take their claims at face value and demonstrate that antizionism itself is wrong. Stop defending. Start naming the hate movement for what it is.

The tool he offers is direct: “Hating Zionists is wrong. Hating Israelis is racism.”

According to this view, you can’t construct a theology in which one country is essentially evil. You can’t create a demonic worldview about a single nation and its supporters. That’s racism, full stop. And here’s the key: don’t debate the libels. Don’t let antizionists drag you into their courtroom to defend Israel’s policies or history. The moment you start arguing whether Israel meets the definition of apartheid or genocide, you’ve already lost.

Louis-Klein draws a parallel to how we treat classical antisemitism. No one today debates whether Nazism constitutes “legitimate criticism” of Jews. We recognize the ideology as evil in its totality. We should do the same with antizionism. Yes, all libels contain partial truths — there were powerful Jewish families in 19th-century Europe, there were Jews in communist movements, there are checkpoints in the West Bank. But libels aren’t critiques. They’re theological constructions designed to cast a people as intrinsically evil. Once we recognize how antizionism functions, we stop engaging with it on its own terms.

This is the practical advice Jews have been asking me about while I’ve been writing my book. Louis-Klein’s framework offers both intellectual clarity and actionable strategy — a way to understand what’s happening and how to respond. But I remain somewhat skeptical that one word can perform such a Herculean task. Changing the culture around Zionism and antizionism, with or without the hyphen, means fighting against a tsunami of hostility that has already reshaped academic institutions, social movements, and public discourse. The gaslighting is entrenched. The permission structures are firmly in place.

I understand that Louis-Klein is trying to get us to fight antizionism as a separate animal from antisemitism, but it’s also important to remember the ancient roots of the “colonizer,” “apartheid,” and “genocide” libels. They are the grandchildren of antisemitic tropes involving Jewish money and power, and there is value in pointing out that they are modern manifestations of ancient antisemitism. They’re how antizionism rings familiar to most Jews.

Still, Louis-Klein is right about one thing: Jews need new tools for a new form of hatred. The old vocabulary isn’t working. We can’t keep trying to prove that what we’re experiencing is “really” antisemitism when our accusers have built an entire ideology designed to deny that claim. At minimum, naming antizionism as its own hate movement gives Jews language to describe their reality and a framework to push back. It’s a place to begin.

Howard Lovy is a Michigan-based author and book editor who specializes in Jewish issues. His work can be found on his Substack newsletter, Emet-Truth. He is also the author of Found and Lost: The Jake and Cait Story and is currently writing a book on fighting antisemitism.

Hanukkah is a Yom Tov that commemorates Klal Yisroel facing impossible odds and overcoming them. How appropriate that the 19th-century gadol, Rav Chaim Chizkiyahu Medini, known as the Sdei Chemed, passed away just before Hanukkah, since in his own lifetime, the Sdei Chemed lived this concept of achieving the impossible.

His Early Years

Rav Chaim Chizkiyahu was born in 1834 in Yerushalayim. His father, Rav Refoel Asher Eliyahu Medini, was a respected Sephardic talmid chacham, descended from a family that had been in Yerushalayim for generations. In fact, some scholars believe the name “Medini” derives from the word “medina,” indicating that its bearers were legal residents at a time when Jews often faced restrictions on living in Yerushalayim.

The young Sdei Chemed devoted himself wholeheartedly to learning and retained all he learned in his photographic memory. He married his wife, Rivka, while in his teens and continued his dedication to Torah learning. He received semicha at the young age of 19.

His father, Rav Refoel, advised him, “Learn Torah, learn Torah, and learn Torah! Spend your days and nights learning. Be a yirei shamayim and have ahavas Hashem. Above all, heed the words of Hashem and follow them.” His father assured his son that if he followed this guidance, he would not need to worry about finances, as Rav Refoel would provide for the Sdei Chemed and his new wife.

This promise held true until tragedy struck.

In 1853, his father suddenly passed away, leaving the entire family without financial support. At 20 years old, Rav Medini found himself responsible not only for himself and his wife but also for his entire family. Completely ignorant of money matters, the Sdei Chemed had no idea where to turn. Yet, Hashem was guiding him towards the next step on his life’s journey.

To New Shores

The Sdei Chemed turned for guidance to the future Rishon Litziyon, Rav Chaim Abulafia (1775-1861), who was a close friend of his father. Rav Abulafia recommended that the family move to Constantinople and live with wealthy relatives who resided there and would be proud to support the young and brilliant scholar. In this way, the Sdei Chemed would be able to continue learning.

When he arrived in Constantinople, his cousins welcomed them. Recognizing his greatness, the community asked the Sdei Chemed to serve as the city’s dayan, but he refused, preferring to devote his time to study and writing. It was in Constantinople that he published his first work, Michtav L’Chizkiyahu.

Although his cousins were initially generous, when the Sdei Chemed became seriously ill some time after his arrival, they began to see him as a burden.

Realizing he could no longer rely on them, the Sdei Chemed began tutoring children for a few hours each day while continuing to devote most of his time to Torah study. Over time, he became the most sought-after Torah teacher in Constantinople. He was highly respected as a gaon in Torah with an extraordinary breadth of knowledge, and as a rebbi who could teach Torah to children and adults on any level.

An Invitation for the Rabbinate

By 1866, Rav Medini was so well-known that even visitors to Constantinople sought him out to learn from him. One such visitor was a wealthy businessman from the Crimea, who was impressed not only by Rav Medini’s Torah knowledge but also by his regal bearing. The businessman approached Rav Medini and offered him the position of Chief Rabbi of the Crimea.

At that time, the Jewish community of the Crimea was in the process of rebuilding itself following the devastating Crimean War.

The Crimean Jewish community, known as the Krymchaks, was unique in that they were neither Ashkenazi nor Sephardic. They had been largely cut off from the broader Torah world and had experienced a steep decline in religious observance. Additionally, the Crimea was home to a significant Karaite population, which was actively promoting its misguided theology.

Rav Medini recognized the tremendous challenge of accepting the position of Rav under such difficult conditions. Additionally, the Jewish businessman informed him that the Jewish community in Crimea had not had a rabbi in 40 years! Yet, despite their limited knowledge, the Jews there expressed a strong desire to keep Torah and mitzvos. The businessman assured Rav Medini that if he accepted the position, the community would support him and help him bring about a renewal of Torah observance in Crimea.

Incredibly, Rav Medini accepted the position and moved to Karasubazar (modern-day Bilohirsk), meaning “market on the Karasu River.” In 1867, after a nearly two-week boat journey, the Sdei Chemed arrived in Karasubazar, where he would remain as Chief Rabbi until 1899. At that time, the city had a Jewish population that was 20% of its approximately 13,000 residents.

When he arrived, he found the spiritual situation to be dismal. Few Jewish children could read Hebrew, and even siddurim were almost non-existent in the city, let alone other sefarim. The community was largely ignorant of halacha and minhagim, and the task that lay ahead for Rav Medini was enormous.

Yet, the Sdei Chemed rose to the occasion. His first major project was to establish a yeshiva to serve the entire Crimean Peninsula. He also prepared a simplified siddur and copies of it were sold as quickly as they could be printed. The Sdei Chemed created easy-to-understand pamphlets on halacha and minhagim that covered nearly every aspect of Jewish life. These pamphlets were distributed throughout Crimea, providing halachic guidance for every Jewish home.

Over the years, thousands of children attended the yeshiva, and they and their families became completely observant. Under his direction, Crimea experienced a renewal of Torah observance, replacing the assimilation and ignorance that had prevailed until then.

During his time in Crimea, the Sdei Chemed was a sought-after poseik, receiving visitors and letters with dozens of shailas each week from around the world.

Rav Medini had one son and three daughters. Tragically, his only son died in 1868. In his memory, Rav Medini wrote a sefer titled Or Li. His son’s death was devastating for Rav Medini, and he became very ill and even lost his eyesight temporarily. Yet, with a tremendous desire to continue his work in Karasubazar, Rav Medini had a complete recovery. His three daughters all married observant merchants who helped support the Sdei Chemed and his projects.

Magnum Opus: Sdei Chemed

It was during his almost thirty-three years in Karasubazar that Rav Medini wrote the greater part of his magnum opus, the Sdei Chemed. (Chemed was an acronym of his name, Chizkiyahu Medini.) The work is an encyclopedia of halachic topics, and includes numerous teshuvos on each subject in the order of the alef-beis.

Rav Medini possessed a remarkable photographic memory, and when he learned a sefer, he would memorize it as well. In his brilliance, he not only memorized the sefarim but also arranged them in his mind in an incredibly organized fashion. Rav Medini directed his immense wisdom and knowledge toward his sefer, the Sdei Chemed. The work is mind-boggling in its breadth and scope.

The Sdei Chemed lacked an index for many years, making it challenging to find the topic one was looking for. Today, it has an index, yet some observe that the index needs an index! Similar to the Minchas Chinuch, which was a closed book for many years until it was republished and reorganized by Machon Yerushalayim, the Sdei Chemed is challenging to learn because it has not yet been reformatted in a similar way.

Throughout his life, Rav Medini was renowned for his tzidkus. There was a period in his life when he spent or gave away every last coin he had daily, and would then begin the next day with nothing. This practice left a lasting impression on those who knew him, demonstrating both his care for others and his tremendous level of bitachon.

Both Jews and non-Jews throughout Crimea revered the Sdei Chemed as the “Holy Rabbi,” and all sought his blessing. In fact, when an order was issued in 1887 to expel all foreign nationals from Crimea, Rav Medini was allowed to remain, due to the intervention of high-ranking government officials and well-known Russian non-Jewish academics on his behalf.

Rav Medini remained in Crimea for decades, because he believed that no one of stature would replace him to teach Torah and guide the community.

Time to Return Home

In 1899, Rav Medini decided to leave for Eretz Yisroel, intending to spend his final days there. Despite the pleas of the Crimean Jews and his own painful separation from his children and community, he remained steadfast in his decision. Though he had not lived in Eretz Yisroel for most of his life, he wished, at the very least, to be buried there.

Nearly the entire Jewish community of Crimea, comprising tens of thousands of people, gathered at the docks to bid farewell to Sdei Chemed as he left. They wept as he departed on a boat across the Black Sea towards Eretz Yisroel.

When the Sdei Chemed arrived in Eretz Yisroel in the early summer of 1899, he was greeted with tremendous joy by the rabbanim and community members. They danced around him, joyfully welcoming him home.

He chose to reside in Yerushalayim and remained there for two years.

When he first arrived, the position of Chief Rabbi of Yerushalayim was vacant, and he was asked to become Chief Rabbi. Rav Medini declined, hoping to reside there as a simple Jew, but he found it difficult to withstand the pressure from those seeking his leadership.

Chevron, at that time, was a quiet city and seemed like an ideal place for him to spend his days and complete writing his Sdei Chemed. He decided to move there. Shortly after he arrived, Chevron’s two chief rabbanim, Rav Eliyahu Mani and Rav Yosef Franco, passed away, and the community pleaded with him to become their rav. Recognizing the need and realizing he could lead this smaller community and complete his sefer simultaneously, Rav Medini agreed and served as the rav of Chevron until his passing in 1905.

Despite his advanced age, Rav Medini established a yeshiva in Chevron and supported it with his meager funds, even drawing from money he had set aside for the publication of the Sdei Chemed. When asked how he could do such a thing, he responded that a living Torah scholar is more valuable than a book.

Due to the reputation of the Sdei Chemed, the yeshiva attracted some of the finest young scholars in Eretz Yisrael. One of his students was the renowned Rav Avraham Chaim Naeh.

In Chevron, the Sdei Chemed also focused on the needs of the community as a whole. Each day, he would stay in the shul, saying Tehillim for an hour between Mincha and Maariv along with the rest of the community. When someone asked him why he did this instead of learning, he responded, “If I neglect this community minhag, the whole value and importance of that hour spent saying Tehillim will become meaningless to the kehilla. That is why I must be present — to give it significance.”

Rav Medini’s integrity and greatness earned him the respect of even the Arab inhabitants of Chevron. Due to his influence, many attacks on Chevron’s Jews were averted. When the local rulers summoned the Sdei Chemed for a public tax meeting, they treated him with great respect, apologizing for the summons and occasionally asking for his blessing.

In 1905, Rabbi Medini became very ill. The Rabbanim of Chevron composed a special tefilla, titled “A Prayer for Chizkiya in His Illness,” alluding to the great King Chizkiyahu, who had been gravely ill, recovered, and was granted 15 more years of life. The Sdei Chemed was niftar shortly thereafter, just before Chanukah on the 24th of Kislev. He is buried in Chevron.

A False Accusation

Looking back at his life, the Sdei Chemed offered his own insight on the tremendous siyata dishmaya he had, in what is probably the most famous story about the Sdei Chemed.

It was well known that the Sdei Chemed was outstanding in his Torah learning, and one of his contemporaries became envious of him. In a fit of jealousy, he bribed the non-Jewish cleaning girl to accuse the Sdei Chemed of trying to assault her in the beis midrash. She agreed and ran into the streets shouting that the Sdei Chemed had attempted to act inappropriately to her.

The onlookers were shocked, and yet, the Sdei Chemed ignored the whole scene and continued to learn with tranquility, despite being publicly libeled and shamed. Unsure of how to handle the situation and certain that the Sdei Chemed was innocent, the Rav of the community ordered the cleaning girl fired.

A while later, this cleaning girl had no money left because the bribe money was used up. She also could not work, since, due to this incident, no one would hire her to clean their homes. She approached the Sdei Chemed, admitting that she had made up the whole story because another man had bribed her to accuse him. She suggested that she would tell the entire story in public, that the Sdei Chemed would be cleared, and that she could then have her job back.

Taken aback, the Sdei Chemed thought it over. He realized that although the lady’s confession would clear his own name, it would be a terrible chillul Hashem regarding the man who had bribed her. Therefore, the Sdei Chemed responded that instead of creating a public spectacle, he would find her a new job.

Years later, the Sdei Chemed told over this incident to a talmid. He related that after it occurred, he felt his eyes were opened to learning to a much greater extent than before. He mused that it was either because of his own self-restraint in the face of such humiliation or because of his concern to prevent chillul Hashem that Hashem had granted him so much hatzlacha. The Sdei Chemed also conjectured that it was in this merit that his sefer, Sdei Chemed, was so widely accepted.

Most of us are not capable of writing a Sdei Chemed nor leading an entire community back to Torah and mitzvos. Yet, the Sdei Chemed’s life reminds us that some things that we consider impossible can be within reach if we want it enough. One hundred and twenty years later, this legacy continues to shine brightly.

Rabbi Menachem Levine is the CEO of JDBY-YTT, the largest Jewish school in the Midwest. He served as Rabbi of Congregation Am Echad in San Jose, CA, from 2007 to 2020. He is a popular speaker and writes for numerous publications on Torah, Jewish History, and Contemporary Jewish Topics. Rabbi Levine’s personal website is https://thinktorah.org

A version of this article was printed in Hamodia’s weekly newspaper on December 10, 2025.

Nearly every day, newspapers globally report on the number of Palestinians reportedly killed in the West Bank by the IDF or by Israelis living in the West Bank. Taking the numbers from the UN, outlets including The New York Times, The Guardian, ABC Australia, and the BBC have all referenced Palestinians killed by both “Israeli forces and settlers.”

While the IDF is known to take precautions during its operations in the West Bank to minimize harm to civilians, many of those killed are not ordinary Palestinian civilians at all, but rather terrorists with affiliations to terrorist organizations such as Hamas and Islamic Jihad, or lone actors committing attacks against Israelis and the IDF.

However, the media are not reporting on these incidents accurately, with outlets consistently crafting stories in which it is suggested that Palestinian civilians are being routinely attacked and murdered by Israelis living in the West Bank.

Casualties Reported

According to the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA), more than 1,000 Palestinians have been killed in the West Bank from October 7, 2023, until December 2025.

B’Tselem, a fringe Israeli “human rights group,” that has previously accused Israel of committing genocide, has also kept data of the Palestinians killed in the West Bank, including the name, location, date of death, and type of injury.

From October 7, 2023, through October 31, 2025 — the latest date of available data — B’Tselem lists 963 Palestinian deaths by Israeli forces in the West Bank and Israel. Just under 50 percent of those killed are recorded as having known terror-group affiliations, not including lone-wolf attackers who attempted or carried out assaults on Israeli civilians or security forces.

Visualization based on B’Tselem data of Palestinians killed by Israeli forces from October 7, 2023, to October 31, 2025.

In the same period, B’Tselem recorded an additional 24 Palestinians killed by Israeli civilians and 13 killed by unidentified parties. These figures include individuals affiliated with terror organizations such as Hamas or Islamic Jihad, as well as unaffiliated attackers who carried out terror assaults. In total, B’Tselem reported approximately 1,000 deaths over the two-year period.

The OCHA lists 1,020 Palestinian casualties in the West Bank and Israel for the same period (October 7, 2023, until October 31, 2025). This includes 23 Palestinians killed by Israeli civilians or off-duty soldiers. It does not provide the name and type of injury for each individual. The casualties in this list include Palestinians who died in direct “confrontations” with Israelis, meaning it also includes terrorists that were killed during or after committing a terror attack.

When comparing OCHA and B’Tselem’s data, several patterns emerge. While the datasets differ somewhat in methodology, categorization, and total counts, their overall trends remain consistent.

Data by District

Graph based on B’Tselem data of Palestinians killed by Israeli forces from October 7, 2023, to October 31, 2025.

Notably, B’Tselem’s data indicates a correlation between districts with the highest number of fatalities and a high concentration of terrorist activity and affiliations.

The areas most frequently referred to in newspapers as being the “deadliest” are often the same areas where terrorist organizations such as Hamas and Islamic Jihad maintain a strong operational presence. This is especially true for Jenin, which both B’Tselem and the OCHA cite as having the highest rates of Palestinian deaths. Other cities with high death rates include Tulkarm, Nablus, and Tubas, all of which the IDF has operated in to thwart terrorism threats.

B’Tselem’s own data show that more than half of the deaths in Jenin since October 7, 2023, have been those with affiliations to terrorist organizations. Yet, the media has continued to memorialize the city for being the “martyrs’ capital.”

Reminder to @WSJ: Jenin wasn’t a “center of militant resistance”—it IS a terror hub that fuels suicide bombings against Israeli civilians. Its terrorists have recently murdered Israelis in Tel Aviv, Elad, and Jerusalem.

Get it right. pic.twitter.com/Kz3PmHdMhb

— HonestReporting (@HonestReporting) February 4, 2025

Casualty figures divorced from the security reality of these cities risk misleading readers by implying indiscriminate violence against Palestinian civilians — often portrayed as occurring at the hands of Israeli civilians — rather than the reality of Israeli counterterror operations targeting organized terror networks in the West Bank.

Terrorists Killed by Israelis

Although the OCHA data does not break down each person by name and background, cross-referencing its own data shows that terrorists are included in the data on casualty figures.

A terror shooting attack in a gas station in the Jewish community of Eli in the West Bank on February 29, 2024, left two Israelis murdered. An off-duty, reservist soldier neutralized the terrorist. This data also appears on the OCHA data on casualties list, where the Israeli who neutralized the terrorist is listed as an “Israeli civilian settler.” Because the Israeli was an off-duty soldier, B’Tselem included the Palestinian terrorist in the list of those killed by Israeli forces.

Data from the OCHA “Data on casualties” database displaying a Palestinian casualty on February 29, 2024.

In B’Tselem’s list of Palestinians killed by Israeli civilians are individuals who carried out terrorist attacks, such as Hareth Khaled ‘Abdallah Jbarah, who, on November 6, 2024, drove his car into a bus stop near the Jewish community of Shilo in the West Bank. He then exited his car with a knife, attempting to stab Israelis, before an Israeli civilian fatally shot him. He is also counted as a Palestinian casualty from that day on the OCHA website, with the person who stopped his attack described as an “Israeli civilian settler.”

More recently, in the Humanitarian Situation Update #343, OCHA noted that “two Palestinians attempted to run over a crowd of Israelis” in the Gush Etzion area on November 18, 2025, before “Israeli forces opened fire and killed both Palestinian men.” This data also appears in OCHA’s casualty data.

This reveals a consistent pattern in which Palestinians killed while actively carrying out a terrorist attack are recorded as “Palestinian casualties.” At the same time, Israelis who neutralize them are framed as the perpetrators of violence.

Data from the OCHA “Data on casualties” database displaying Israeli casualties from October 7, 2023-October 31, 2025.

Interestingly enough, the OCHA data on Israeli fatalities differentiates between a “settler” and an “Israeli civilian,” implying there is a difference between the two — a distinction that is not applied when reporting Palestinian fatalities.

This all points to a larger problem in West Bank reporting. UN casualty data becomes misleading when it groups terrorists together with civilians tragically caught in the crossfire — and the media’s uncritical use of these figures (without distinction, verification, or context), further amplifies a distorted picture of events on the ground.

By citing aggregate casualty figures while omitting how, where, and why deaths occurred, media outlets flatten complex counterterror operations into simplistic narratives of one-sided violence. The result is coverage that obscures responsibility, erases the role of terror organizations, and leaves audiences with a fundamentally false understanding of what is happening in the West Bank.

The author is a contributor to HonestReporting, a Jerusalem-based media watchdog with a focus on antisemitism and anti-Israel bias — where a version of this article first appeared.