Rich Lyons, chancellor of UC Berkeley, testifies before the House Committee on Education & Workforce on July 15, about antisemitism in higher education. ((Win McNamee / Getty Images)) Rich Lyons, chancellor of UC Berkeley, testifies before the House Committee on Education & Workforce on July 15, about antisemitism in higher education. ((Win McNamee / Getty Images)) © (Win McNamee / Getty Images) For too long, the debate over antisemitism on college campuses has bogged down over whether anti-Zionism is antisemitism. Endless ink has been spilled over the distinction (or not) between the two. Last week, in their testimony to the House Committee on Education & Workforce, UC Berkeley Chancellor Rich Lyons, City University of New York Chancellor Félix V. Matos Rodríguez and Georgetown interim President Robert M. Groves cut through all this academic hairsplitting. “Is denying the Jewish people their rights to self-determination … antisemitism? Yes or no?” asked Rep. Burgess Owens (R-Utah). All three university leaders replied simply and unequivocally: “Yes.” Ways To Give - Connect With The Fellowship Ad Ways To Give - Connect With The Fellowship ifcj.org Learn more call to action icon The right to Jewish self-determination is a textbook definition of Zionism. The clarity with which the university officials pegged anti-Zionism as antisemitic is much-needed and long overdue. For years, progressives have raised consciousness about the need to recognize and repudiate bigoted dog whistles, microaggressions and misgendering. Yet many of those same progressives have been shockingly silent when it comes to decrying the macroaggressions of antisemitism that have become increasingly commonplace at anti-Israel protests. They’ve insisted that the now-familiar chants — “From the river to the sea, Palestine shall be free!” “We don’t want no two states! We want all of ’48!”— are not antisemitic, just anti-Zionist, with some who are Jewish concurring and providing cover. Yet just as there can be “racism without racists” — that is, racist results without racist intents — so too can there be antisemitism without antisemites. Not all anti-Zionists are antisemites, but anti-Zionism, in its most basic form — denying to the Jewish people the right to self-determination, a right recognized as inherent to countless others, including Palestinians — is itself a form of antisemitism. Jewish nonprofits - Give Monthly - Connect With The Fellowship Ad Jewish nonprofits - Give Monthly - Connect With The Fellowship help.ifcj.org Learn more call to action icon Moreover, because anti-Zionism singles out the Jewish state alone for elimination — among the dozens of ethnonational or ethnoreligious states in the world, including myriad Islamic ones — that, too, makes it a form of antisemitism. Declaring anti-Zionism to be antisemitic, as the university leaders did, was an important development for the dignity of Jewish students, one that echoed and amplified a federal district court’s preliminary injunction last year that said UCLA could not allow anti-Israel activists to exclude “Jewish students … because they refused to denounce their faith,” of which Zionism was a central component, from parts of the campus, as happened during protests against the Israel-Hamas war. Zionism, at its core, is a belief in Israel's right to sovereignty as a Jewish state on part of the ancestral homeland of the Jewish people. That's a millennia-old article of faith for Judaism, as reflected, for example, in daily Jewish prayers, the Passover Seder and the ritual of breaking a glass at weddings. Those claiming the mantle of Zionism for far more aggressive or exclusionary aims don’t change that core fact, nor do those treating Zionism as a uniquely malevolent expression of national liberation or nation-building. Top 1% Realtors In The Valley - Luxury Real Estate & Auctions Ad Top 1% Realtors In The Valley - Luxury Real Estate & Auctions scottandjamesproperties.com Learn more call to action icon Recognizing anti-Zionism as a manifestation of antisemitism is an important step forward for combating the discrimination and ostracism that many Jewish students have experienced for expressing their support for Israel’s right to exist in the face of those who call for its elimination. Such recognition, in turn, can help concentrate campus conflicts about Israel and Palestinians on what matters most: fruitful debate over Israel’s actions (including its prosecution of the war in Gaza) rather than fruitless shouting matches over Israel’s existence and neo-McCarthyite litmus tests (“Are you now or have you ever been a Zionist?”). As this happens, we would be well-served to cease and desist using the terms “Zionism” and “anti-Zionism,” except as historical artifacts. After all, “Zionism” refers to the aspiration to create a nation that is now nearly 80 years old. And anti-Zionism thus perpetuates a fantasy that Israel's long-settled place among the family of nations is still open for debate. It isn't, any more than, say, the existence of Russia under Putin or the United States under Trump, however much we might deplore their policies, is open for debate. Leadgen logo LA Times Discover the West Coast Perspective $1 for 4 months Subscribe Now We owe the Berkeley, CUNY and Georgetown leaders a great debt of gratitude for helping to elevate the intractable campus conflicts about Israel and the Palestinians to a higher plane. Mark Brilliant is an associate professor of history and American studies at UC Berkeley.
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AntisemitismCanada In 2026, Tulsa And Panama Are Courting Canadian Jews As Antisemitism Redefines The Cost Of Staying As antisemitism reaches unprecedented levels across Canada, Jewish families and professionals are quietly reassessing their futures, and some are being actively courted elsewhere. Ron East By: Ron East December 31, 2025 SHARE A growing number of Canadian Jews are exploring relocation options A growing number of Canadian Jews are exploring relocation options as antisemitism intensifies and confidence in public protection erodes. (Image: Illustration.) TORONTO — For generations, Canada sold itself as a country where Jews could thrive without constantly looking over their shoulders. That assumption no longer holds for a growing number of Canadian Jews, particularly in the aftermath of October 7 and the months that followed. What has changed is not only the number of antisemitic incidents. It is the atmosphere. Public hostility has been normalized. Jewish schools, synagogues, and community centres operate under permanent security protocols. Anti-Jewish intimidation is increasingly framed as political expression. Enforcement is inconsistent. Accountability is rare. When Jewish life requires constant risk assessment, mobility stops being a luxury. It becomes a rational act of self-preservation. That reality helps explain why, in 2026, two very different destinations, Tulsa, Oklahoma, and Panama, are appearing with growing frequency in serious conversations among Canadian Jews who have the means and flexibility to move. This is not a panic migration. It is a strategic recalculation. Canada’s new warning lights Jewish Canadians represent a small fraction of the population, yet account for a vastly disproportionate share of reported hate crimes. This is not a perception problem. It is a documented pattern. More troubling than the statistics themselves is the message many Jews hear in response: concern, sympathy, and context, but little deterrence. Protests that spill into harassment are tolerated. Jewish institutions are targeted repeatedly. Antisemitism disguised as antizionism is parsed endlessly rather than confronted directly. The result is a slow erosion of confidence in the state’s willingness or ability to enforce equal protection. When a community moves from assuming it belongs to hoping nothing happens today, the social contract has already been fractured. It is within this context that Tulsa and Panama are not merely attracting attention but actively courting. Lech Le’Tulsa and intentional Jewish welcome Tulsa is not presenting itself as a refuge city. It is presenting itself as a place that wants Jewish life to grow. In 2026, that effort has taken concrete form through Lech Le’Tulsa, a Jewish-focused relocation initiative designed to attract Jewish families, professionals, and entrepreneurs to the Tulsa area. The program combines relocation assistance with intentional community building and access to Jewish infrastructure. The name is deliberate. Lech Lecha, the biblical call to go forth and build a future, is not branding by accident. It speaks directly to a Jewish historical instinct that understands movement not as retreat, but as agency. Lech Le’Tulsa offers what many Canadian Jews increasingly feel is missing at home: A clear signal that Jewish presence is welcomed, not merely accommodated Immediate access to synagogues, schools, and Jewish communal life A civic environment where Jewish identity is not treated as a liability The financial incentives matter, but the social architecture matters more. Tulsa is offering a landing ramp. It is saying, we are prepared for you to arrive. That clarity stands in stark contrast to the ambiguity Canadian Jews experience when their safety concerns are acknowledged but endlessly deferred. Panama and the appeal of optionality Panama represents a different but equally rational response to insecurity. For Canadian Jews with international mobility, Panama offers residency pathways tied to investment, business activity, or long-term economic contribution. It also offers something increasingly valuable: optionality. Panama has an established Jewish community, a comparatively lower cost of living, and an immigration framework that openly courts skilled and capital-carrying residents. For some, it is a permanent relocation. For others, it is a second base, a contingency plan, or a future passport pathway. What matters is not the destination itself, but the logic behind the choice. When Jews seek second options, they are not rejecting diaspora life. They are applying historical lessons. Jewish continuity has always depended on redundancy, resilience, and the ability to move before crisis becomes catastrophe. The Zionist lens Canadians prefer to ignore Zionism does not deny the legitimacy of diaspora life. It insists that Jews must never be dependent on the goodwill of others for safety or equality. That lesson was written in blood long before the modern State of Israel existed. Israel institutionalized it at a national level. Individual Jews apply it on a personal level. When Canadian Jews explore Tulsa or Panama, they are not abandoning Canada in anger. They are responding rationally to warning signs. They are building leverage. They are ensuring their children have options. This is what Zionist consciousness looks like outside Israel. It is quiet, pragmatic, and unsentimental. An indictment Canada should take seriously Tulsa and Panama are not superior societies. They are intentional ones. Tulsa is saying, we want contributors, and we are prepared to integrate them. Panama is saying, we want residents and investment, and we have clear legal pathways. Canada, too often, is saying something else entirely: we are sorry you feel unsafe, but the politics are complicated. A serious country does not treat antisemitism as a public relations challenge. It treats it as a threat to civic order. That requires enforcement, deterrence, and moral clarity, including the willingness to name antisemitism even when it hides behind fashionable political language. Until that happens, Canada should not be surprised when Jews quietly explore exit ramps. The bottom line In 2026, the fact that Tulsa and Panama can plausibly court Canadian Jews is not an oddity. It is a warning. When antisemitism reaches levels that fundamentally alter how Jews calculate their futures, movement becomes strategy. History teaches Jews to act before apologies arrive too late. Canada still has time to reverse this trajectory. But time matters. And Jews, having learned this lesson repeatedly, are no longer inclined to wait.
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