Among the political soap operas of the summer, the exchange of letters between Benjamin Netanyahu and Emmanuel Macron replayed the classic scene of a dialogue of the deaf. Beyond the pantomime spectacle, who can really say what the subject of their correspondence was? Gérard Bensussan attempts to decipher the reasons behind a misunderstanding that is particularly symptomatic of the current political situation.
The summer exchange of letters between Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu and President Macron, both in itself and in its functional repercussions, as doctors say, on the French political situation, gives pause for thought. The two letters, each in their own right, are steeped in a confusion that is unclear whether it is unintentional, a sign of more or less voluntary blindness, or deliberately exaggerated. In any case, these two letters bear witness to the misunderstandings, misinterpretations, and hypocrisies that surround, like an almost unbreakable shell, the impossible debates on the war in Gaza and its French and European “appropriations.”
In a way, both letters document the gradual etiological erasure of the terror of October 7, each in its own way: the Israeli Prime Minister by subordinating it to immediate political interests that are pushing him into a headlong rush with no way out, and the President of the Republic by making it, in his statements, nothing more than a preliminary, formal, and ultimately useless rhetorical precaution.
I recall the words. In his letter to AFP on August 19, B. Netanyahu expressed his concern about “the alarming rise of antisemitism in France,” worrying about “hatred of Jews (which) lurks in the streets” and “ravages cities” throughout the country. The Israeli prime minister added, and this is undoubtedly the primary reason for his letter to the president, that the latter’s call for “a Palestinian state fuels this antisemitic fire,” “reinforces Hamas’s refusal to release hostages, and encourages those who threaten French Jews.” The accusation is harsh.
The presidential response is no less so. To clear himself of the insinuated infamy, Macron recalled his many commemorative speeches and his firm action in the fight against the “abomination” of antisemitism, which he explains he began in the first weeks after his first election, for example with the commemoration of the Vel d’Hiv roundup on July 16, 2017. He also emphasizes that the protection of Jewish compatriots against antisemitic abuses is fully ensured by the state services under his unfailing responsibility. And he adds that the issue at stake is that the question of antisemitism and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is too serious to give rise to self-serving calculations.
The dialogue—between deaf ears—between Netanyahu and Macron repeats, unsurprisingly, everything that can be heard today in a confused manner on the issue of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and antisemitism. This correspondence from the summer of 2025 is a non-correspondence.
Two factual points can be acknowledged by both sides: 1) antisemitism is now rampant in France and elsewhere in Europe as never before since 1945; it is asserting itself and manifesting itself without the shame and restraint that prevailed until then, which inevitably raises questions about the effectiveness of the French president’s invocation of remembrance alone and causes concern about the longer-term consequences of such a situation; 2) The accusations levelled against failing republican institutions are unfounded, yet they “offend the whole of France,” adds E. Macron—a point that was echoed by the Chief Rabbi of France, Haïm Korsia, to the dismay of part of the Jewish community.
In his letter, Netanyahu pretends to overlook a crucial difference that is vital to the daily existence of Jews: the difference between the position of the state and its institutions, on the one hand, and public opinion, which is increasingly susceptible to antisemitic arguments, on the other. It should be remembered that antisemitism and all its manifestations, including, since 2014, the glorification of and incitement to acts of terrorism, are punishable by law. The law provides for a penalty of five years’ imprisonment and a fine of €75,000. The existence of this legal arsenal and the commitment of the authorities are obviously essential. They contrast sharply with the political situation that prevailed in large parts of Europe between the two world wars. Some, moreover, are distressed by this and are already promising to abolish the offense of glorifying terrorism when they come to power, as they hope to do. They are even proposing to imprison prefects who have used the November 2014 law to summon and question a number of “anti-Zionist” elected officials. This is a sign. The LFI party, since that is the party in question, believes that the fight against antisemitism, insofar as anti-Zionism is included in it, and as it is handled by the public authorities and the judicial authorities, hinders freedom of expression. Why, on the contrary, is Netanyahu attacking the French executive, which he suspects of not doing enough? The accusation of complacency is obviously being used in a specific political and diplomatic context. It is intended to discredit criticism of the Netanyahu government’s conduct of the war in Gaza and to cast insidious suspicion on the French government’s intention to recognize a Palestinian state in the very near future. There seems to be no doubt that antisemitism is being exploited in this regard. Netanyahu, for example, has just recognized the reality of the Armenian genocide (at last, and it is only fair!), not for fundamental moral and historical reasons, but to give Erdogan a taste of his own medicine, as Erdogan, in turn, is repeating the accusation of genocide in Gaza. In both cases, the circumstances tactically overdetermine the position and precede it.
In his letter, Netanyahu pretends to overlook a crucial difference that is vital to the daily existence of Jews: the difference between the position of the state and its institutions, on the one hand, and public opinion, which is increasingly susceptible to antisemitic arguments, on the other.
This lack of perspective in Israel’s view of the situation in France, whether it is the result of ignorance or political and diplomatic calculation, cannot hide the spectacular amplification of antisemitism. Moreover, accusations of antisemitism no longer paralyze, frighten many people, or intimidate them. It has even rallied a large part of French politicians, particularly on the left, around the president’s letter. Netanyahu certainly overestimated the moral impact and deterrent effect that such an accusation would have on the political debate. Unless, as is more likely, it was primarily intended for the diaspora—the two aspects being by no means mutually exclusive.
Today, there are a number of new features in the expressions of radical anti-Zionism. The destruction of Israel, its dismantling, and more or less direct calls to get rid of the Jews in one way or another, to put it bluntly, are present in the contemporary debate about the nature of the Gaza war. The cartographic demand for a “free Palestine from the Jordan River to the Mediterranean Sea” provides the topographical image, from the most knowledgeable circles to the coloring books offered to children. It is not impossible that within a generation or two, European countries will become countries emptied of their Jews, as was the case during long periods of history in the past. We are now entering the era of the “end of innocence” for Jews, as Frédéric Lordon, a violently anti-Zionist ideologue, has written. His argument is very simple: Gaza is finally opening our eyes and providing us with metaphysically complete proof of “their” congenital, ontological non-innocence. Indeed, October 7, 2023 confirmed, according to a new diabolical causality, the fundamental guilt of Zionism, as well as the inevitable “destiny” that awaits it, as the same author writes in the apocalyptic tone of a preacher. More and more often, pro-Palestinian slogans are being associated in an unprecedented way with all kinds of damage to Shoah memorial sites, steles, lists of names of deported children or Righteous Among the Nations, and commemorative plaques, which should draw new attention to these phenomena, at least from a semiological perspective.
The “Palestinian state” is neither a terrible antisemitic blasphemy nor a miraculous talisman offering a “solution” to all difficulties.
Did Emmanuel Macron fuel this devastating fire? He himself is not suspect, needless to say. But his successive shifts from one side to the other, his vacillations between an urgent call to form an anti-October 7 coalition and his conspicuous non-participation in the demonstration against antisemitism, were enough to throw people off balance. The question of the State of Palestine, which is the subject of this exchange of letters, as it stands today for both Israeli leaders in general and French diplomacy, is biased. It should be remembered that all Israeli leaders since the 1947 partition plan have recognized the legitimacy or necessity of a Palestinian state, including Netanyahu on occasion. The “Palestinian state” is neither a terrible antisemitic blasphemy nor a miraculous talisman offering a “solution” to all difficulties. The so-called “two-state solution” confirms the validity of the Zionist claim, since it acknowledges the existence of a Jewish state alongside a Palestinian state. Much has been said about how France’s recognition of this, in September 2025, while hostages are still languishing in Hamas’s tunnel prisons, was inappropriate. This is true. I would like to point out that, in the erratic flow of presidential inconsistencies and inconsistencies, there was a particularly troubling moment, which I found worrying. Last May, in response to a journalist’s question, Emmanuel Macron stated that it was not his place, as a politician, to rule on the “ongoing genocide” in Gaza, and that historians would have to decide when the time came. This false prudence adds fuel to a fire that is already burning brightly. There is a fault here—in the content of the statement, its style, and the rumor it reinforces. In political debate, we like to quote Camus ad nauseam, saying that misnaming things adds to the unhappiness of the world. There is worse: naming very well what does not exist, finding the right word, the sign whose effectiveness will lie in pure self-referentiality, a self-assurance that would never need to confront reality and its meanings.
The Netanyahu-Macron exchange imposes a double requirement that must be attempted to be met on both sides, each of which, distorted by the protagonists, tells us something about this reality.
The principled anti-Zionism that dominates today’s demonstrations calls for “a world without Zionism” (G. Thunberg). As such, whether he likes it or not, whether he knows it or not, it is the striking contemporary form of traditional antisemitism, which he rediscovers (“without”) and renews (“Zionism”). Emmanuel Macron, it must be acknowledged, adopted in 2017 the definition of anti-Zionism as antisemitism proposed by the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA). This recognition, whose importance is decisive, is now weakened, attenuated, and as if canceled out by his response to last May’s genocide.
Criticizing the policies of any Israeli government, whether Netanyahu’s or another, in times of war or peace, has nothing to do with antisemitism—nothing, it must be said and repeated. This distinction, in the form of a maxim, is at the heart of Zionism itself in its democratic content. It is therefore out of the question to deviate from it by suggesting, as we hear here and there, that visceral antisemitism animates any reservation or distance taken from a political line, practices, or geostrategic decisions made by an Israeli government, this one or any other. However, one consideration, like a codicil, should always govern the use of this necessary distinction between legitimate criticism and outrageous conflation. Adhering to it is a matter of exercising judgment and free discernment by each and every one of us. There can be no question, as we also see from time to time, of making it a certificate of good conduct. Like all citizens, Jews do not have to prove their credentials or display their anti-Zionist shibboleth in order to be admitted to the discussion, lest they be suspected of “dual allegiance,” disloyalty, or “cosmopolitanism,” as it was once called.
In its broad arguments, the dialogue—between deaf ears—between Netanyahu and Macron unsurprisingly repeats everything that can be heard today in a confused manner on the issue of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and antisemitism. This correspondence from the summer of 2025 is a non-correspondence. It confirms the extreme difficulty, even impossibility, of a rational exchange of arguments and proposals. The two heads of state merely reflect, on their own scale, the opacity and oblique nature of more or less avowed intentions, as can be seen throughout civil society. Democracy, an incongruous mixture of apocalypse and banality, is not without its weaknesses. And indeed, without weaknesses, it would not exist.
Gérard Bensussan
Philosopher and professor emeritus at the University of Strasbourg, Gérard Bensussan has worked on classical German philosophy and Jewish philosophy. He has published some twenty works, including Le temps messianique. Temps historique et temps vécu (Vrin, 2001), Dans la forme du monde: Sur Franz Rosenzweig’ (Hermann, 2009) and, most recently, ‘L’Écriture de l’involontaire. Philosophie de Proust’ (Classique Garnie, 2020). His latest book is ‘Des sadiques au cœur pur. Sur l’antisionisme contemporain’ (Hermann, 2025).
