Anti-Zionism is anti-Semitism after Manchester attack

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• What happened: the attack and the immediate public reaction
• From Cable Street to today: a painful historical contrast
• Why critics insist anti-Zionism is different—and why many reject that distinction
• How political language can mask deeper prejudice
• Voices and defenses on social media and in politics
• Patterns in rhetoric: echoes of older prejudices
• How anti-Zionism functions across the political spectrum
• Practical signs to watch for in public discourse
• Accountability and the limits of rhetoric
• A personal stance and next steps from the author

The killings at a Manchester synagogue and the wave of anti-Israel demonstrations that erupted across British cities within hours shook many people to their core. The timing and tenor of those protests—chants calling for the elimination of a nation while two Jewish people lay dead—turned grief into alarm and forced a national reckoning about where criticism of Israel ends and hostility toward Jewish people begins.

Across London, Edinburgh and Manchester the same message was broadcast: fury at a state folded into fury at a people. That fusion exposed a seam of public opinion where political protest and ethnic hatred overlap, and it raised urgent questions about responsibility, language and the limits of legitimate dissent.

What happened: the attack and the immediate public reaction

In Manchester, an attacker struck at a synagogue, killing two Jewish worshippers. The tragedy prompted instant shock and mourning within Britain’s Jewish community and beyond. Yet, almost immediately, crowds in several cities used the violence as a backdrop for street demonstrations aimed at Israel—chanting slogans that call for the country’s elimination and displaying a level of vitriol that many found chilling in light of the murders.

Those protests were not limited to small rallies. Marches and gatherings in major transport hubs and public squares drew attention and controversy, with images and videos circulating online that showed protesters linking the deaths in Manchester to broader political grievances in the Middle East. The juxtaposition of mourning and militant slogans intensified public debate about whether anti-Israel rhetoric was crossing into outright hatred of Jews.

From Cable Street to today: a painful historical contrast

Britain has a history of public resistance to fascism. In 1936, the famous Cable Street mobilization saw local communities, including Jewish residents, push back against an openly fascist movement. The contrast between that moment and the recent demonstrations is stark: where previous generations once rallied to protect Jewish neighborhoods from violent extremists, some modern crowds appear to channel their anger toward the Jewish state instead.

This isn’t simply a matter of changed tactics. The symbolism matters. When broad political movements that historically opposed fascism now express or tolerate language that aligns with violent rhetoric against Jews or Israel, it signals a shift in moral alignment on public streets. For many observers, that inversion is both shocking and disheartening.

Why critics insist anti-Zionism is different—and why many reject that distinction

In the aftermath, influential commentators and political figures rushed to distinguish opposition to Israeli policy from hatred of Jews. Some called for careful language, arguing that criticism of a government—even strong, moral condemnation—does not automatically mean hostility toward a religion or an ethnic group. These defenders said labeling every protest against Israel as antisemitic was simplistic and unjust.

Yet a growing number of analysts and community leaders argue that the line between legitimate critique and bigotry is being blurred. They point to patterns in rhetoric and behavior—repeated demonization of Israel, calls for its eradication, tropes recycled from older forms of Jew-hatred—as evidence that anti-Zionism can function as a contemporary vehicle for anti-Jewish sentiment.

How political language can mask deeper prejudice

Anti-Zionism can operate as both political argument and social camouflage. When criticism of a nation becomes a daily obsession and when that country is cast as uniquely evil in ways no other state is, observers say that political debate morphs into cultural targeting.

• Obsessive focus: Israel often occupies an outsized place in activist discourse compared with other countries involved in armed conflict.
• Demonizing metaphors: Recycled slurs and conspiracy language once aimed at Jews are sometimes repurposed to describe the state.
• Calls for elimination: Slogans that imply or demand the destruction of a nation echo rhetoric that historically preceded violence against Jews.

These dynamics suggest that, for some, anti-Zionism can be a trojan horse for long-standing prejudices. It allows political actors across the spectrum—some from liberal circles, others from extremist fringes—to present entrenched hostility toward Jews as principled resistance to a government.

Voices and defenses on social media and in politics

In the hours after the Manchester attack, social platforms were filled with debates about culpability and rhetoric. Some politicians and commentators condemned the violence while also urging others not to conflate street-level protests with outright antisemitism. They stressed the need to differentiate between activists who target policy and those who espouse hatred.

Opponents of that view countered that words have consequences. When major public figures repeatedly vilify a nation and use language that delegitimizes an entire people’s right to security, they argued, it is disingenuous to express shock when harassment or violence follows. For those critics, equivocation about the link between anti-Israel speech and antisemitism amounts to a refusal to confront a social problem.

Patterns in rhetoric: echoes of older prejudices

Across many modern settings, commentators note striking parallels between polemics about Israel and historic antisemitic narratives. Claims about secretive power, bloodlust, and exceptional culpability mirror the conspiracy-laden accusations that fueled centuries of persecution. That resemblance fuels concern that contemporary political language may be recycling dangerous myths under the guise of policy criticism.

• Accusations of unique evil: Labeling Israel as uniquely monstrous without proportional criticism of other states.
• Conspiratorial framing: Attributing outsized global influence or malevolent intent to Jewish institutions or supporters.
• Collective blame: Holding all Jews responsible for the actions of a state they may not support.

Those patterns help explain why many Jewish organizations and civil-rights advocates treat certain forms of anti-Zionism as indistinguishable from antisemitism.

How anti-Zionism functions across the political spectrum

Anti-Zionism is not confined to one corner of politics. In some cases it appears as intellectual opposition among progressive activists; in others, it emerges as explicit hatred from far-right or religious extremist groups. This ideological cross-pollination makes the phenomenon both pervasive and difficult to address.

For some, anti-Zionism is a sincere policy stance; for others, it’s a convenient cover for a deeper hostility. That dual reality complicates attempts to police discourse: measures that target hateful rhetoric risk censoring genuine policy debate, while tolerating extreme expressions allows prejudice to spread.

Practical signs to watch for in public discourse

Recognizing when criticism becomes bigotry can be helped by looking for concrete signs. These indicators are not exhaustive but can guide public officials, platform moderators and citizens when assessing speech:

1. Calls for the erasure of a nation or its people rather than policy change.
2. Use of classic antisemitic tropes adapted to modern contexts.
3. Disproportionate focus: denouncing one country’s actions while ignoring worse abuses elsewhere.
4. Attempts to delegitimize the right of an entire group to self-determination.

Accountability and the limits of rhetoric

After the Manchester murders, many called for leaders and organizers to be held accountable for incendiary rhetoric that may inflame tensions. Others warned against guilt by association, urging careful legal and ethical standards before branding protesters as bigots. The debate over culpability continues to animate political discourse and policy choices regarding protests, speech and community safety.

The challenge for democracies is to protect free expression while preventing rhetoric that fuels violence. That balance requires nuance, vigilance and consistent enforcement of standards that separate legitimate dissent from targeted hatred.

A personal stance and next steps from the author

As someone who follows these debates closely, I believe it’s essential to call out the ways political arguments can enable prejudice. When a movement treats an entire nation as the embodiment of evil and refuses to countenance alternate perspectives, it risks becoming a vector for the very intolerance it claims to oppose. Combatting antisemitism requires honest naming of tactics that hide behind political language.

This moment in Britain’s public life should provoke reflection across political lines: activists, journalists and political leaders must scrutinize their language, and civil-society institutions should work to ensure that human tragedy never becomes the stage for calls to erase a people or a state.

Brendan O’Neill is a political writer and podcast host. His recent book, After the Pogrom: 7 October, Israel and the Crisis of Civilisation, is available in the UK and US. Find him on social media under the handle @burntoakboy

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