Socialism in the Face of Antisemitism

Is it really necessary to fight antisemitism? The answer might seem obvious in an era when, aside from far-right fringe groups and Islamist movements with limited influence, antisemitism is unanimously condemned. If it persists, or even increases, then the answer to that question is inevitably “yes.” To the informed public, the question seems rhetorical.

In France, as throughout Europe, antisemitic acts have been on the rise since the early 2000s. A new threshold was crossed after October 7. And yet, it turns out that the question is no longer rhetorical at all.

Even before widespread condemnation has officially begun, the idea of a campaign focused on antisemitism is sparking debate. Or rather, it is stirring up strong emotions, to the point that the debate is not really taking place. This is happening in a specific corner of the political spectrum: on the left, that is, where, historically, at least since the Dreyfus Affair, this struggle has been not only a priority but virtually a defining criterion. We must assess just how unprecedented – indeed, self-destructive – this phenomenon is, and where the debate ought to be taking place.

For some, primarily those on the far left, it is the unjustified use of the accusation of antisemitism that matters most during this period marked by the conflict in the Middle East; so that we must focus on combating “racism in general,” taking care not to single out hatred of Jews unduly, which is thus encompassed within that broader category. For others, situated more in the social-democratic camp, the focus on the case of Jews and what they are enduring is, on the contrary, the order of the day. This means that specific actions should be taken, given the clear deterioration in the situation of this minority.

Inclusion versus focus: the theme of the “two irreconcilable lefts” finds one of its main sources here. But is this divide really as deep as it is made out to be? On closer inspection, there is reason to doubt it.

Inclusion versus focus: the theme of the “two irreconcilable lefts” finds one of its main motivations here. But is it really as deep-seated as people say? On closer inspection, there is reason to doubt it. Certainly, when the leader of the radical left began speaking of “residual” antisemitism—and even more so when he followed up with remarks carrying antisemitic overtones—the other side was outraged, especially among the Socialists. But when a bill aimed at combating antisemitism was proposed to the National Assembly by the center and the right, no contribution to its drafting—or to the amendments it indeed called for, where a genuine left-wing voice could have been heard, including on the strategic issue of criticism of Israel—emerged. And it was with palpable relief that, once the bill’s withdrawal and its replacement with an ecumenical text proclaiming “republican cohesion in the fight against racism and antisemitism” were finalized, the issue was swept under the rug.

But the calm was short-lived. A few months later, a Jewish artist and activist for the rights of sexual minorities, who had previously been the target of abuse from the far right, was violently attacked by supporters of the “umbrella bill” for having deemed a law against antisemitism justified. A wave of panic then swept through across the entire left this time: where, then, had the hatred unleashed against her come from? Those most opposed to the Yadan law wavered under the weight of a question that the public simply could not avoid asking. Among their ranks, the most conscientious had to admit: antisemitism is reprehensible no matter where it comes from—and knowing that it can, incidentally, come from the anti-racist left. However, they did not go so far as to adopt a targeted approach, contenting themselves instead with the usual condemnations, delivered in a grave and condescending tone.

Thus, the left reconciled itself at little cost – antisemitism is undoubtedly a great evil – within some vague gray area of its ideological landscape, since it essentially aligned with the majority position of the Socialist Party leadership. For them, the phenomenon is certainly a cause for concern and unease. But as for what it actually entails to combat it, who would venture to spell it out? Going so far as to conduct an analysis, a prelude to formulating a resolute anti-antisemitic policy, seems out of reach. More precisely, anything resembling a left-wing anti-antisemitic policy—a policy in which the left would recognize itself in its fundamental principles—is out of reach. This is what never surfaces in public debate. Instead, what we see is only great embarrassment. While advocates of the fight against racism in the generic sense assert themselves forcefully, advocates of the fight against antisemitism as a phenomenon requiring a specific perspective and appropriate measures are either silent or inaudible.

Socialism Caught in a Trap

Why is this the case? To begin with, let us consider the contextual difficulties. It is true that socialists are currently caught between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand, they are confronted with a demagogic left that mobilizes on the broadest possible scale by framing every injustice as oppression, which entails blurring the distinction between antisemitism and racism—and does not avoid the risk, if not the temptation, of reigniting the former under the guise of fighting the latter. On the other hand, they must clearly distinguish their position on antisemitism from that of the far right, which is indeed rushing to denounce antisemitism as a golden opportunity to gain respectability while simultaneously attacking Muslims. The trap that socialism perceives is therefore twofold. On the one hand, intimidation and the fear of falling behind in taking a critical stance are in full force, while on the other, the danger of being lumped in with reactionaries looms large. But is the context so overwhelming that it cannot be set aside? These two external factors make a lot of noise, it’s true. But they are easy to overcome, so caricatured are they, so blind to the reality of contemporary antisemitism, to the diversity of its perpetrators, and to the complexity of its manifestations—all the more blind because both, in different ways, are sometimes part of that very same group of perpetrators.

Over time, socialism has ceased to address, in its own terms, the issue that actually encompasses discrimination and persecution of all kinds, namely the issue of minority integration.

In short, the context serves as a convenient scapegoat. If socialism remains trapped, it is because its weakness is, in truth, internal. It stems from a deficiency that has plagued it for several decades, and which it has been unable to correct. How might we describe it? Let us begin with this general observation: over time, socialism has ceased to think according to its own framework about the issue that effectively encompasses discrimination and persecution of all kinds, namely the issue of the integration of minorities. It has failed to continue charting its own course between the liberal framework on one hand—which conceives of integration solely in terms of individual rights rather than classes and social groups— and the reactionary framework on the other, which, conversely, freezes collective identities in place, whether at the level of particularist communities or at the level of the national whole. From its failure in this area, that of emancipatory and egalitarian policies grounded in an analysis of the situation in terms of social relations, stems from socialism’s inability to address antisemitism in its most current manifestations. It is this return to its roots that we must therefore outline.

The Jewish Question: A Foundational Test

The fact that antisemitism and the Jewish question played a decisive role in shaping the concept of integration was a dimension of the history of European socialism that found its most prominent expression in France. The Dreyfus Affair—and the socialist consciousness that gained new momentum as a result—cannot be underestimated in this regard. For socialism at that time, it was a matter of better understanding itself—specifically, the conditions necessary to ensure that the rights of minority members were respected through a policy fundamentally dedicated to reducing inequalities. At the same time, it was a matter of clarifying the framework within which a genuine left-wing policy—both social and democratic—must necessarily operate.

The defining characteristic of the left, in fact, is not so much the proposition of equality as such—that articulated in the Declaration of the Rights of , which recognizes the legal equality of individuals and makes it the foundation of their citizenship—but rather the policy of equalization on the social and economic levels, resolutely implemented within this constitutional framework. What socialism presupposes can be put this way: egalitarianism may well be established in law, inequalities are produced and reproduced by mechanisms of exploitation and domination that conservatism and liberalism do not challenge, but on the contrary maintain and reinvigorate. Added to this, linked to these mechanisms but not reducible to them, are discriminatory judgments based on group affiliation, beliefs, and origins: these judgments play a functional role within this system that we must still strive to describe. Minority population groups are viewed negatively in certain segments of public opinion, but not all are treated in the same way or with the same consequences. They are exposed to various types of injustices, which only partially overlap with socioeconomic inequalities but are, on the other hand, characterized by violations of rights that an egalitarian society—in the democratic sense—has a duty to prevent.

Among these injustices, some condemn members of minority groups to socially and economically subordinate positions and to unequal treatment and consideration, while others subject them to verbal and physical violence, all of which constitute violations of their rights, starting with their right to safety. Racism and antisemitism are performative categorizations of this kind, affecting individuals by assigning them to negatively labeled groups—which does not always mean they are viewed as inferior. Socialism, and more broadly the Left, cannot fail to combat them. It does so, within the democratic framework, by asserting itself as a defined form of rights-based politics that grants a preeminent role to social and collective rights (this is the essential difference from liberal politics, which is limited to individual civil and political rights), and in which the specific situation of minorities exposed to discrimination or social violence is given priority consideration.

Socialism asserts itself as a distinct form of rights-based politics that accords a preeminent role to social and collective rights, and in which the specific situation of minorities exposed to discrimination or social violence is given priority consideration.

What this brief description reveals is that the left’s policy of equalization specific to the left has two inseparable aspects, but their solidarity is not a given and does not arise automatically. Throughout history, a rift has repeatedly widened between them, giving rise to internal divisions and dissensions that could only be overcome through vigorous efforts at adjustment. We are now at a new stage in this bumpy journey. The difference is that there seems to be a lack of momentum to address the problem.

On one side is the reduction of social and economic inequalities—perceived as illegitimate disparities in power and wealth—which manifest in the class relations that structure modern societies; on the other is the creation of equality through the defense and establishment of social and collective rights—including the rights of minorities and their protection. Both paths are social, but not in the same sense: in the first case, the “social” is perceived through the inequalities that burden it, insofar as these inequalities find their root cause in the capitalist mode of production and the division of labor associated with it. In the second path, by contrast, it is the demands for egalitarian rights formulated by individuals and groups—bearing in mind that individuals are socialized within groups where their identity is forged—that take center stage, in that they are made possible by democracy, as a legal-political system, and by the rule of law.

This observation makes it clear that it is at the heart of the left—which calls itself “social democratic”—that the correlation between these two objectives is most firmly established. The strength of this current within the left lies in this. For it, not only is the second objective not seen as an ideological obstacle to the realization of the first (the law of democratic societies is not a byproduct of capitalism to be eliminated), but—and this is less often noted— it is not viewed as a mere means subordinate to the first either. It possesses its own, relatively independent significance. It imposes its own constraints on the construction of a society committed to a direction that can be described as increasingly egalitarian and emancipatory. For such a society is not merely so because it has succeeded in reducing class inequalities as much as possible; it is also such insofar as it tackles injustices that cannot be reduced to exploitation and class domination, and that affect the various groups comprising a modern society. From this collective plurality, socialism—which operates at the level of society as a whole and the dynamic unity it forms—advocates egalitarian integration through the framework of rights.

As for French political culture, it can be said that this “social-democratic” articulation ” in the strict sense dates back to the late 19th century. On the scientific front, it was primarily articulated within the framework of Durkheimian sociological thought, as an alternative paradigm to Marxism. And in the ideological debate, the triggering and defining event was undoubtedly the Dreyfus Affair, with the aggiornamento it necessitated. It was then, by reviving an issue that had arisen throughout the 19th century—namely, the emancipation of the Jews and the way of life of this group within the modern societies into which it was now integrated, the Left as such was compelled to take a stand.

What became clear was that the modern “Jewish question” inherently contained antisemitism. In other words, the minority in question found itself stigmatized precisely because of its very integration.

This test was decisive. It was decisive for public opinion in general, which was forced to grapple with what might be called the “modern Jewish question”—that is, the consideration of the unique type of minority represented by the Jewish minority in the modern era, integrated through a twofold process: one accomplished by the community itself, the other carried out by the secular state, which was compelled to admit that what had historically presented itself to the state as an internal otherness was not, in fact, such, but rather amounted to something like a “difference” that could, under certain conditions, be incorporated into the state. Yet what also became apparent at the same time was that the “Jewish question” of modernity carried within it antisemitism. In other words, the minority in question found itself stigmatized precisely because of its very integration.

It fell to the left, however, to formulate the most comprehensive and accurate analysis of this paradox. What it highlighted was that the process of integration, by its very logic, gave rise to antisemitism. Antisemitism emerged as a specific pathology of modern societies, viewed precisely in terms of their egalitarian aims. As such, it spares neither nationalists nor internationalists—neither the camp advocating national homogeneity that establishes the dominant collective identity, nor the camp fighting for social and economic equality through the international class struggle. This form of hatred cuts across the entire political spectrum. It is certainly not without roots in the past, as patterns of ancient anti-Judaism remain discernible within it. But what it draws on above all is the specifically modern fantasy of a hidden domination—a potential lever for turning the struggle against inequality into a denial of equality and social persecution. The courage and clarity of the Dreyfusards lay in their understanding of this. This stance, against the backdrop of a national crisis, changed the face of the Left. From that moment on, the fight against antisemitism proved to be foundational—or re-foundational—to the Left. One could say that it helped make the Left rigorously social democratic—for the model has its own rigor, which is ignored by those who see in it merely an accommodation to liberalism, which it is precisely not.

But the story did not end there. This defining feature of the social-democratic left has been reshaped every time Jewish life has been upended. Each time, too, it had to redefine itself by adapting to the new parameters dictated by events. It is this trajectory—with its vicissitudes, yet following the momentum we have just outlined—that we must now retrace to understand where we stand today.

From Vichy to Israel

With Vichy and the Shoah, the fight against antisemitism took on new meaning. The destruction of two-thirds of European Jews—a process to which the French state provided zealous support—was a new ordeal, more radical than the Dreyfus Affair had been. It is true that Vichy represented a far more profound rupture than the setbacks of the “infamous decree” of 1808 or the Damascus Affair of 1840, and that it went far beyond the denial of justice that Dreyfus had exemplified. In 1940, it was the state itself that became the discriminator and persecutor, as antisemitism had been enshrined in law and established as a cornerstone of government policy. The shock was profound for the Jews. It was also a shock for all those who, in the aftermath of the war, sought to reflect on what had happened and on the broader political lessons to be drawn from it.

Confronting the Vichy regime, as we know, was a difficult and protracted process for public opinion, whether within the political class or in society at large. Nevertheless, a new awareness of antisemitism took hold, centered on this tacit acknowledgment: that Jews, by their very nature, embody a uniquely precarious position—one that no definitive promise of protection by the state, however democratic and egalitarian it may be, can ever fully safeguard—and that the fight against antisemitism is therefore a constant priority. Once again, it was on the social-democratic left that this awareness was most acute, and that the imperative to combat antisemitism began to take hold. Not only did this struggle lose none of the centrality it had gained through the Affair, but some of its implications became even clearer.

In this regard, the reconstruction was followed by an almost immediate test. The creation of the State of Israel, three years after the end of the war, took European public opinion by surprise and challenged it to take a stand in the face of a major international political development which, however distant it might be, concerned it very directly. It was precisely from this perspective that socialism viewed the situation—all the more readily because this state was initially founded on a form of Zionism that claimed to be rooted in socialism, adhered to the principles of a democratic state governed by the rule of law, and followed a dynamic of national emancipation analogous to that of other minorities previously subjugated by empires. The settlement of European refugee populations that fueled it—but also, very early on and to an increasing extent, refugees from the Arab world—did not stem from a logic of plundering resources for the benefit of a metropolis, nor from the exploitation of indigenous populations; they clearly could not be classified as colonialism, unless one were to twist the concept so drastically as to arrive at an ideological interpretation.

The armed conflicts that broke out from the very beginning—triggered by the region’s authoritarian and monarchical Arab states and fueled by Palestinian nationalism, which had simultaneously gained strength—elicited different reactions across the political spectrum in European states, against the backdrop of the major postwar division between a liberalism that accommodated the socioeconomic demands of reconstruction, and a communist imperialism with powerful allies. In the social-democratic camp, the prevailing position was one of support for the young state, on the grounds that Israel was indeed a historic achievement worth defending. It was, in the strict sense that it granted Jews the right to self-determination somewhere in the world. In this sense, it was not a homeland in the strict sense of the term—as the exclusive seat of their citizenship—that was given to them. But it was a home in times of crisis—a potential refuge, granting them access to a new nationality only if they so desired, like a guarantee that could be activated at any time, wherever they might be and wherever they might come from. This self-determination, which, for Jews in the diaspora, was not their own, offered them—in the democratic states where they remained integrated—the mental resource to live out their citizenship more fully and with greater confidence. In short, the very existence of this state was tied to a right that extended beyond the self-determination of the Israeli nation. It was about the defense of Jews as a minority living in non-Jewish states.

This tacit position of the social-democratic left was certainly not without ambiguities. It entered into a clear area of tension with the other axis of struggles that gradually came to the fore: the anticolonial struggle. For the end of the French colonial empire, marked by bloody wars and a source of divisions that culminated in the Algerian crisis—which caused a rift within the Socialist Party—was another historic achievement, a victory on the path to emancipation that the left was duty-bound to spearhead. It was then, at the height of the conflict and in its wake, that a Third Worldist position gained strength. It was a powerful force within the protest-oriented left of the late 1960s and 1970s. Its banner was anti-Zionism, which resonated with the anti-Zionism previously advocated by the Soviet Union, which had quickly elevated it to a doctrine and made it the official name for its state-sponsored anti-Semitism. Zionism was thus in the crosshairs of French postcolonial consciousness, and its interpretation became a source of dissension within the left as a whole.

Holocaust denial—where the far-left Third Worldists and the far-right nationalists converged—served as a kind of confirmation, by contrast, of the validity of the social-democratic orientation.

The social-democratic camp, however, did not lose its bearings. It reframed its perspective by targeting both antisemitism and racism in a single condemnation, with the latter category emerging in all its force in light of the domination, discrimination, and persecution that had marked the colonial era and were perpetuated in the postcolonial context against immigrant populations from the former colonies. Considering the racial arguments that had structured antisemitism, the connection was established without the differences in the nature of discriminatory judgments degenerating into divergence and separation. The specificity of antisemitism was by no means obscured or ignored. Rather, it did not contradict the support given to postcolonial demands, which were gaining momentum.

This was, however, subject to one condition: given the recognized significance of the existence of the State of Israel for the entire Jewish diaspora, it was important for the social-democratic left to resist reducing Zionism to colonialism and to refuse to introduce a racial interpretation into the conflict between the two competing processes of nationalization that had emerged. All the more so because this reduction had laid bare, in the clearest possible terms, the antisemitic motives underlying it. Holocaust denial—where the far-left Third Worldists and the far-right nationalists converged—served as a contrary confirmation of the validity of the social-democratic orientation. For the vast majority, it laid bare the underlying intentions behind what was presented as a struggle for the liberation of the oppressed, and inevitably led to the stigmatization of Jews.

But maintaining the social-democratic course remained nonetheless tied to events in the Middle East and to the need to accommodate the national demands of the Palestinians—however incompatible they might have been, in their terrorist radicalism and authoritarian form, with the principles we were defending. For what was at stake, despite everything, was their right to self-determination as a people, as a result of the end of imperial domination. Beginning in 1967, with the Israeli military occupation extended indefinitely, accompanied by waves of settlement expansion—which were increasingly seen to they were corrupting the very core of Zionism, support gradually gave way to criticism. The situation only worsened with the shift to the right in Israeli politics in the late 1970s, but also with the deterioration of the broader context, as as Islamist Iran succeeded Egypt as the ideological and military center of the widespread desire to destroy Israel. Between 1991 and 1993, however, a window of opportunity opened for resolving the Palestinian question; the most clear-sighted seized it. But the reactionary forces on both sides ultimately prevailed. Rabin’s assassination in 1995, followed by Netanyahu’s rise to power and his gradual shift—whether out of opportunism or conviction—toward the far right, served to further entrench criticism of Israeli policy within the left.

Rightfully, this critique dominates today. And yet, the original focus—the understanding of what Israel signifies as a non-colonial European creation—has not been abolished. As long as the the existence of the State of Israel is considered in terms of its subjective significance for Jews in the diaspora, as well as its objective significance for the European states that were able to push their self-criticism far enough to grasp the original meaning of Zionism, the same lens has continued to shape the entire narrative. Since 1967, and even more so since 1977, it was understood that one must criticize, or even condemn, the Israeli government for its actions; sanction it through the appropriate channels; question its domestic and foreign policies by invoking the standard of the democratic rule of law that it still claims to uphold; and, at the same time, affirm the legitimacy of the State’s existence, support it when it was grappling with extremists determined to destroy it, whether these extremists were armed groups or states—and, in fact, continuously, a combination of both. This support, which coexisted with criticism, could be grounded in international law, but also, more profoundly, in the fact that this represented a dimension of Jewish identity as it had been reconfigured since the Shoah.

Rebuilding the Social-Democratic Framework

It can be said that this framework persisted until the early 2000s. To reiterate, its strength lay in a combination of historical awareness of what had happened to European societies in the 20th century and sociological rigor in the truly egalitarian conception of integration that needed to be implemented within states, with particular reference to the case of the Jews. In this conception, Jews—however small their numbers may be—occupy a de facto decisive position precisely because of the type of minority they embody. This in no way grants them preferential treatment over other minorities. Rather, it makes them an indispensable element in the most thorough and consistent understanding of the framework of integration upon which the fate of all minorities depends. In the political sphere, socialism was the movement capable of perceiving this reality in all its facets, without neglecting any of them. This is why it was within socialism that the struggles against racism and anti-semitism were able to unite and reinforce one another.

Today, this lens no longer works. Over the course of a quarter-century, it has lost all its significance, and its disappearance has coincided with the ever-deepening crisis of socialism itself, precipitating an electoral collapse that is difficult to halt. That the two declines are linked is obvious. But it is an obvious fact that we prefer not to acknowledge or examine too closely. In doing so, we are depriving ourselves of the only means to revive, in the present, the socialist framework for integration, the need for which is sorely felt. This is what must be changed in the short time frame of the 2027 campaign. And this is why the issue of antisemitism in all its forms—even those most uncomfortable for the left—must not be sidestepped.

What gave the social-democratic perspective its validity, in short, were two things.

First, it was the achievement of a fundamental synthesis between the critique of the harm caused by capitalism—from which no genuine left-wing policy, however reformist, can stray— and the deepening of the meaning of the democratic rule of law. This connection was made possible by addressing the Jewish question, its singularity, and the resurgence of antisemitism across the entire spectrum of modern politics—without excluding socialism itself, when it loses the clarity of its principles. This radical vigilance, rooted in a critique of reactionary nationalism combined with self-criticism of the left, while serving as a bulwark in the defense of Jews, saw its scope extend to the defense of any minority, whatever it may be.

For it was upon the condition of being a minority as such that the spotlight was refocused through the paradoxical case of the Jews. The question raised by antisemitism, in short, is that of the right to minority difference—not one emerging on the margins or from the outside, but within the very fulfillment of the process of integration into the majority. Moreover, what is brought to light is the elevation in terms of justice that the recognition of this right implies within the specifically socialist—rather than nationalist or liberal—conception of integration, founded on the actual plurality of social groups from which every modern nation is historically composed.

The issue raised by antisemitism, in short, is that of the right to minority difference—not emerging from the margins or from the outside, but within the very fulfillment of the process of integration by the majority.

Subsequently and consequently, the social-democratic perspective proved capable of articulating the two arenas—the European and the Israeli—in the spirit that guided Europe’s postwar reconstruction. It was not that the position adopted was, strictly speaking, Zionist. Rather—and this is quite different—it was capable of understanding and helping others understand how the realization of Zionism in 1948—this Jewish project born in Europe as a reaction to its own inevitable failure regarding the Jews—had acquired a legitimacy that resonated with the vigilance one applied to oneself within states. Thus, with varying degrees of rigor and clarity, this was the line of reasoning at that end of the political spectrum for a long time. Yet the contrast is all the sharper with what we see today. Whereas previously the relationship between the two arenas was conceived from the perspective of Europe—its history and its defense of equal rights, including minority rights, which serve as a preeminent democratic and social test—it is now viewed entirely from the opposite angle. It is viewed from the “Middle East,” which presents itself far less as a geopolitical zone to be considered objectively than as a canvas onto which to project the images of extreme injustice that people are determined to see there at all costs.

It is this distorted perspective that now prevails in France and Europe. A perspective, in short, in which one does not consciously think from one’s own standpoint; and in which, believing oneself to be stepping back from one’s own perspective, one merely projects the dilemmas one faces without managing to address them. Thus, we use the other stage—the “Middle East”—to extract the traits that suit the role it must play: to ratify the substitution of criticism of domination for the deficient issue of integration.

It is here, and nowhere else, that the most powerful current trend of antisemitism in Europe takes root. Showing little interest in the social and historical realities it manipulates when referring to Israelis and Palestinians, it relies above all on its redefinition of the word “Zionism”—capable of condensing domination as such— and at the same time to classify its putative supporters (the “Zionists”) among the enemies that any authentic struggle for equality and freedom must oppose. The vertigo that the social-democratic left had conjured away at the end of the 19th century—the very vertigo in which it had forged itself precisely by conjuring it away—is now taking on strange hues before our very eyes. Its face, to be sure, is not the official antisemitism of a century and a half ago. Officially, no one on the left is antisemitic. But it is the face of anti-Zionism elevated to a position of principle, by neutralizing what the word “Zionism” signifies in the intertwined history of Europe and the Jews.

In the heat of an election campaign, reestablishing and updating this social-democratic lens—with all its virtues—faces significant challenges. The task requires an intellectual effort that the very limited time and space of political debate do not allow. But since it seems we can always count on a sentiment shared by sincere socialists—that the knot to be untied lies precisely there— it must at least be possible to lay the first stones of this reconstruction. They boil down to two very simple premises that stem from what we have just seen, and which we believe must be highlighted in a socialist program worthy of the name.

First of all, under current conditions, the unique nature of antisemitism must once again be acknowledged and made explicit. What was not necessary in the 1980s and 1990s has now become so. It is no coincidence that the conflict between the “two irreconcilable lefts” revolves around this very point. Speaking in the same breath of “antisemitism and all forms of racism” is now the best way to obscure antisemitism. We must therefore examine their current differences and recall the ways in which Antisemitism has become imbued with racialist arguments throughout its history, without the specific type of hatred it expresses being subsumed by them; and we must show how, today, the struggle against antisemitism comes into tension with the struggle against racism, to the point that antisemitism, in certain cases, ends up drawing—contradictorily—from the very source of anti-racism. If a justification were needed for making this distinction analytically, this alone would suffice. But it must then be emphasized that this distinction in no way implies a departure from the universalism of the struggles against discrimination and persecution. Rather, its purpose is to enable this universalism to attain the level of “high definition” (as one speaks of the technical refinement of an image) demanded by the situation. Only in this way—that is, by making use of what this distinction, and this distinction alone, reveals in the ideological configuration of the present— can the specifically socialist issue of integration—which is overdetermining in relation to the critique of domination—be reestablished. And it is toward a renewed framework for addressing minority issues, in their irreducible plurality and in the specific challenges each poses, that we will then move.

Under current conditions, the singularity of antisemitism must once again be acknowledged and made explicit. What was not necessary in the 1980s and 1990s has now become so. It is no coincidence that the conflict between the “two irreconcilable lefts” revolves around this point.

This first premise requires the affirmation of a second. That Zionism be restored to its original meaning: the assertion that a state for the Jews must exist—or rather, that a state must exist for the Jews. This verbal nuance captures the essence of the matter, which socialism had once again managed to recognize. Today, given the deterioration on the other front, it is all the more important to emphasize this: Zionism is not so much a political ideology encapsulated in the State of Israel, which brought it to fruition, as it is a dimension of Jewish existence within the diaspora itself. On the one hand, therefore, it matters to all Jews. On the other hand, it does not matter in the same way to different types of Jews, depending on the polarity that has emerged over the past 80 years between the Israeli center and the various diasporic centers.

This fact, however, has a specific significance for all European national communities—not only in their relationship to Jews, but in their very ability to pursue their common post-1945 project. It is through this lens that we must interpret the stigmatization currently associated with the category of Zionism. It stems from a blurring of this historical consciousness. It depends less on what Israel is actually becoming than on a blindness on the part of European politics in its handling of minority issues, and of the social and political principles upon which to base a genuine social-democratic position.

Thus freed from its old ruts, this position will then be able to articulate its most uncompromising critique of current Israeli policy and advocate, without hesitation, the international policy actions stemming from that critique. It will be able to do so in the name of Europe—but of a Europe that has come to understand itself, particularly in terms of what Israel’s existence means for it. It will be able to do so because it will then have objectively considered the other side of the story—this time without projection. A reality in which it is clear that Israel is losing its way through a policy of force and the erosion of its democratic foundations, and in which it is rapidly joining, driven by the far right and the criminal excesses of settlers in the Palestinian territories, rapidly joining the ranks of those who are burying Zionism. A scenario in which it has never been more difficult to restore the rule of law, and in which the priority must be namely establishing the conditions—foremost among which is Israel’s security—for the construction of a democratic state governed by the rule of law that belongs to the Palestinian people, is shrouded in a thick veil.

Will the Socialists be able to uphold these two principles? This question is by no means rhetorical. It amounts to asking whether they will be able to remain fully socialist by 2027.