Zionism Is Canada’s Most-Successful Hate Movement

I don’t usually repost the writings in full written by others. But this article published on June 30, 2026 by Canadian journalist Davide Mastracci of the independent Canadian news outlet The Maple contends that Zionism has become Canada’s most successful and socially accepted form of hate motivated and supremacist politics. 

It argues that the ideology is inherently violent and colonial, and that Israel’s treatment of Palestinians—including Israel's actions in committing genocide in Gaza—is a direct expression of that ideology. In Canada, Mastracci says, Zionism is not fringe but fully mainstream, embedded in political culture, media institutions, and civil society.

He also focuses heavily on the Jewish Canadians, claiming that Zionism has eclipsed Judaism as a defining identity for many Jews. Citing polling and patterns of political mobilization, he argues that support for Israel among Jewish Canadians is unusually intense and unmatched by any other community’s alignment with a supremacist, extremist movement. Charitable funding, political organizing, and participation in Israel’s military by Canadian Jews are presented as evidence of deep ideological commitment.

Mastracci attempts to expose Zionism as a normalized form of hate and supremacy that enjoys protection from Canada’s political and media establishment. He warns that Zionism is “on the attack,” that criticism of it is often treated as bigotry, and that resisting it is a moral obligation. He tries to shift public understanding by reframing Zionism not as a Jewish national project but as a dangerous, state‑sanctioned ideology that demands scrutiny and opposition.

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© The Maple 2026. All Rights Reserved. 

Zionism Is Canada’s Most-Successful Hate Movement

The Jewish-supremacist ideology motivating genocide has widespread support among Canada’s elites.

by Davide Mastracci
June 30, 2026 
www.readthemaple.com/zionism-is-canadas-most-successful-hate-movement/

From its inception, Zionism has been a violent, colonial ideology.

The State of Israel, founded through decades of Zionist migration and anti-Palestinian violence, is a perfect distillation of Zionism, not a departure from it. Zionism is Israel’s state ideology.

In the 78 years since Israel’s creation, which was finalized in an organized and systemic ethnic cleansing campaign, Israel has terrorized its neighbours, swallowed up Palestinian land and devoured its inhabitants, and is committing a genocide to destroy the lives of those who remain.

Israel is an explicitly Jewish supremacist state, and perhaps the only one left in the world where supremacy is openly, proudly, and formally enshrined in law, and expanding in its scope.

There’s a range of opinions within Israel’s political leadership, but all factions believe in supremacy enforced through some level of violence.

In short: Zionism is a hateful ideology guiding a state that has committed the worst crimes of the 21st century in its name.

That Zionism is a state ideology doesn’t make it less hateful than if it were relegated to the fringes. Instead, it just means it has succeeded to the fullest extent.

This is undoubtedly true in Israel. It’s also true in Canada in a different way: Zionism has achieved more explicit, mainstream support than any other openly supremacist movement at this point in time.

Zionism And Jewish Canadians

Zionism is so rampant in Canada’s Jewish community that it has effectively become more important than Judaism, though many, if not most, Jewish Canadians say the two are actually one.

Many anti-Zionists dispute this assertion in theological terms, but I don’t care about these debates, in the same way that theological schisms in Christianity are of no interest to me outside of the odd late-night Wikipedia search.

What I am interested in, however, is examining how much of the community falls on each side. By this measure, it’s evident that anti-Zionists are losing the battle.

Nearly three years of genocide, involving some of the most depraved acts of violence and cruelty witnessed this century, has reduced the support Israel receives globally, with a recent poll finding it to be the “world’s most disliked country.” Mass support for Israel among Jewish Canadians, however, has persisted.

An assortment of polling of Jewish Canadians conducted between February 2024 and November 2025 has found:

·    94 per cent “support the existence of Israel as a Jewish state”;

·    84 per cent are “emotionally attached to Israel,” the highest level since the survey began in 2018;

·    71 per cent don’t believe Israel is committing genocide;

·    64 per cent believe it’s antisemitic to say Israel is committing genocide;

·    61 per cent oppose an arms embargo on Israel;

·    55 per cent categorize Israel’s actions in Gaza as either self-defence (34 per cent) or hostage return (21 per cent), compared to 24 per cent as either war crimes (10 per cent), ethnic cleansing (4 per cent), or genocide (10 per cent);

·    53 per cent disagree with the claim that “Canada should do more to protect civilians in Gaza”;

·    48 per cent (a plurality) believe Hamas is to blame for starvation in Gaza, while just 17 per cent blame Israel — another 13 per cent believe there was no famine or even widespread hunger;

·    1 per cent identify as anti-Zionists.

The survey that found 94 per cent effectively support Jewish supremacy in Israel also found that “only” 51 per cent explicitly identified as Zionists, which led some anti-Zionists to declare victory. They were wrong to do so. As I quipped in response to reporting on the survey: “‘Poll: Vast majority of Canadian whites say Canada has right to exist as a white state, but half don’t identify as racists.’”

In addition, the community:

·    is represented by and made up of explicitly Zionist organizations, from synagogues, to schools, to camps, to community groups;

·    is the largest sender of charitable donations from Canada to Israel (at least $1.7 billion in donations were sent from 2018 to 2024, and an examination of contributors per year reveals them to overwhelmingly be Jewish charities);

·    supplies a stream of members as soldiers willing to die and kill for the Jewish supremacist State of Israel, a pipeline unlike any other that exists among Canada’s hundreds of demographic groups.

In May, nearly three years into the genocide, an estimated record-breaking 60,000 people marched in Toronto’s annual pro-Israel walk. I view this with the same sort of scorn as the 1939 Nazi rally at Madison Square Garden organized by the German American Bund, which drew more than 20,000 people.

One difference does stick out, though: unlike any other genocide before it, including the Holocaust, the Gaza genocide has been live-streamed since day one and broadcast to all of us.

This hasn’t shattered Jewish Canadian support for Israel. In fact, it has strengthened the support and emotional attachment of many, as seen in the open radicalization of some prominent Jewish figures.

Zionism And The Broader Establishment

It’s clear Zionism has wide support among Jewish Canadians, to an extent unrivalled by other communities relative to whatever form of extremism and supremacy may exist among them. ISIS, for example, was broadly reviled by Muslims globally, and they fought, killed, and died to defeat it.

But this level of support for Zionism among Jewish Canadians isn’t enough to call it the most successful hate movement in Canada. That claim becomes justified upon examining how Zionism is treated by Canada’s elite in politics, media and civil society.

In June 2025, Prime Minister Mark Carney called for the establishment of a “Zionist, if you will, Palestinian state,” which is about the same as urging German Jews be ruled by a new Nazi government after the Holocaust.

In March 2025, then-prime minister Justin Trudeau said, “No one in Canada should ever be afraid to call themselves a Zionist. I am a Zionist.”

Pierre Poilievre, the leader of Canada’s opposition party, said in an October 2024 statement: “We won’t bow to the radical, woke, anti-Zionist Jew haters. [...] We unapologetically stand with Israel through fire and water.” The party’s deputy leader has explicitly identified as a Zionist.

The federal government, seven provinces and at least 20 towns and cities have adopted the IHRA definition of antisemitism, which, according to a federal handbook, classifies opposition to Zionism as antisemitism.

A Senate study released in December 2024 included among its recommendations that “it is unacceptable in Canadian society to target Zionists or to deny them fair and equitable access to public spaces for the sole reason that they are Zionists,” effectively calling for the treatment of Zionism, a political ideology, as a protected category.

This framing has also been pushed in lawsuits launched by Jewish students against universities and backed by major Jewish community organizations.

The editor-in-chief of the National Post, the flagship publication of Canada’s largest newspaper chain, stated in a 2024 email to subscribers: “I feel privileged to be editor-in-chief of the National Post right now, leading a paper that has been Zionist in its commentary since it was founded 25 years ago.”

The Globe and Mail, Canada’s only other national newspaper, recently published an article from the editorial board arguing that Carney should have declared himself to be a Zionist in a speech he gave at a Toronto synagogue.

A co-founder and former head of an organization dedicated to combating hate groups has described themselves as a Zionist and written that Zionism is essential to Jewish identity.

So, to sum it up...

Zionism is not condemned by those in power; it’s openly supported.

Prominent Zionists feel no pressure to conceal their ideology in the way proponents of supremacy usually do; they are encouraged to share it, and applauded when they do so.

Zionists aren’t seen as proponents of hate; they’re treated as a victimized group to be protected by limiting the freedoms of others.

Jewish Canadians aren’t expected to condemn Zionism or Israel in the way Muslims were for extremist forms of Islam; non-Jewish Canadians are expected to support or at least not oppose Zionism because it’s positioned as an essential part of Jewish identity.

If another hate movement took over almost an entire community, it would be treated as a serious problem; Zionism is often defended precisely because it’s so widespread among Jewish Canadians.

The past three years have increasingly turned Canadians against Israel. This has resulted in those in power using increasingly heavy-handed attempts, many of them successful, to protect Zionism.

Zionism is on the attack, not retreat.

Zionists are coming for any and all of us willing to oppose their ideology.

The fight continues.

© The Maple 2026. All Rights Reserved. 

From Bondi Beach to our streets, we must all rise against the poison of hate

In the shadow of a religious celebration undone by racist gunfire, let us resolve to speak fiercely, act boldly, and love without borders. 

 

By Fareed Khan

A version of this article can be found on Substack.

 

As the sun hung low on the horizon over Sydney, Australia’s iconic Bondi Beach on December 14, 2025—the first night of Hanukkah—joyous families and friends gathered for a public celebration of light, resilience, and Jewish heritage. Laughter mingled with the crackle of menorah flames, as the salty ocean breeze carried a symbol of hope, of light pushing back the darkness. Then, in an instant, the unthinkable shattered the moment. Two gunmen opened fire on the crowd, turning an occasion of unity into a scene of unimaginable horror. As the hours passed the death toll had climbed to 15, including one of the attackers, with 40 more wounded, and a community forever scarred.

This was no random act of violence. Australian authorities swiftly declared it a terrorist attack explicitly targeting the Jewish community, a brazen assault on people simply for being who they are. The images emerging from Bondi are gut-wrenching--bloodied sidewalks where families once strolled, survivors clutching each other as first responders arrived to help those injured and count the dead. As more details pour in the weight of this tragedy presses upon us all. It’s a stark reminder that hate doesn’t lurk in shadows, it marches boldly into our public spaces, emboldened by those who amplify its venom.

This atrocity didn’t erupt in isolation. Hate festers in fertile soil cultivated by demagogues with megaphones—politicians who stoke division for votes, influencers who peddle conspiracy theories for clicks, and tech titans who prioritize profits over people. Platforms once hailed as connectors now serve as echo chambers for extremism, where algorithms reward outrage and shield the architects of division. In Australia, as elsewhere, we’ve watched anti-Jewish hate surge, often linked with geopolitical flash points, but rooted in ancient prejudices. The gunmen, likely radicalized online, didn’t act alone. They were enabled by a digital ecosystem that normalizes the dehumanization of Jews, Muslims, and anyone deemed “other.”

We need only look at places like Canada, the US and New Zealand to see the pattern repeat with devastating familiarity. On January 29, 2017, a white supremacist stormed the Islamic Cultural Centre in Quebec City, gunning down six Muslim worshippers in prayer, injuring 19 more in a hail of bullets fuelled by hate. On October 27, 2018 a man attacked the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh during Shabbat morning services, killing 11 and wounding six. On March 15, 2019 a white supremacist gunman walked into two mosques in Christchurch, New Zealand spraying the worshippers with gunfire killing 51 Muslim worshippers and injuring another 40. And in June 2021, in the quiet streets of London, Ontario, a white supremacist plowed his truck into the Afzaal family who were out for a walk, killing four representing three generations and leaving a nine-year-old orphaned.

These weren’t isolated incidents. They were symptoms of a rising tide of hate, where extremists find validation in unchecked online vitriol and political dog-whistling. We reflexively call such violence “senseless,” a word that absolves us of deeper scrutiny. But to the perpetrators and their enablers, it makes perfect sense. For them, it’s a twisted fulfillment of ideologies that paint entire communities as threats—Jews as puppet-masters, Muslims as invaders. These prophets of poison sow seeds in forums, feeds, and rallies, watching them bloom into real-world carnage. And too often, our leaders respond with platitudes—”thoughts and prayers,” task forces producing recommendations in reports that gather dust, funding for security that feels like a band-aid on a gaping wound.

Meanwhile, tech billionaires, those self-anointed visionaries, tweak algorithms not to curb hate but to keep users scrolling, turning outrage into revenue. They are joined by right wing political figures, chasing populist applause, flirting with conspiracies that embolden the fringes. The result? No corner of our world—no beach side festival, no house of worship, no quiet neighbourhood walk—is safe from the creeping cancer of hate.

Make no mistake, the massacre at Bondi Beach transcends borders and politics. Regardless of one’s stance on Israel, Zionism, or the genocide in Gaza, the victims were targeted for their Jewishness alone—lighting candles, sharing stories, embracing life. It’s no different from the carnage unleashed in Pittsburgh in 2018 or what happened in Christchurch in 2019. These were people gunned down for their faith. Hate unites against minority communities, whether on a beach in Sydney or a London, Ontario suburb.

We’ve seen parallel horrors in anti-Palestinian attacks in the West Bank, attacks against Muslims in North America and Europe, anti-Jewish attacks in the US and France. Each echoes the same refrain—sowing division and hate begets carnage.

Yet herein lies our power—and our peril. If hate thrives on silence, it crumbles under a collective roar. Therefore, it is incumbent on each of us, as individuals and communities, to dismantle this poisonous machinery before it claims more lives. As individuals we can start small but we must start now. We must call out the casual racism we witness in our lives, and in our social media feeds. We must amplify those voices that speak out against hate of any sort, and demand accountability from social media platforms that do nothing to shut down hate speech. We must urge leaders to fund not just security but public education, and promote empathy-building programs that inoculate youth against extremism.

As communities, we must weave safety nets of solidarity through cultural sensitivity training, and schools that teach media literacy alongside math, workplaces that enforce zero-tolerance for prejudice. Governments can’t legislate hearts, but we as individuals and communities can model change—voting for politicians and parties that commit to investing in immigrant integration, promoting digital ethics, and investing in public education programs that show the benefits of diversity. And let’s reject the false comfort of “it can’t happen here,” because it already has, from Bondi to Christchurch to Pittsburgh to Quebec City, and it will again unless we act.

What happens next is dependent on how we respond. Silence is complicity, inaction is an invitation to more horrific events like Bondi Beach and Christchurch. In the shadow of a religious celebration undone by racist gunfire, let us resolve to speak fiercely, act boldly, and love without borders. For in unity, we don’t just mourn the lost—we honor them by ensuring their light continues to shine. The prophets of hate may howl, but our chorus of compassion will drown them out because there are more of us. The time to act is now. The duty to act is ours. So what are we waiting for?

© 2025 The View From Here. © 2025 Fareed Khan. All Rights Reserved.

Until the arrival of Zionism, Muslims and Jews lived together in relative peace for centuries

The relative harmony between Jews and Muslims frayed not due to ancient hatreds but a form of European imperialism—namely Zionism.

 

By Fareed Khan

A version of this article can be found on Substack. 

  

For decades, Israel and its Zionist allies in the West have invested millions in propaganda campaigns to portray Muslims and Jews as irreconcilable enemies for centuries to the Western public, even depicting Muslims in the West as an untrustworthy “fifth column.” This narrative has fuelled the targeting of innocent Muslims by police and security agencies, exacerbated Islamophobia well before the 9/11 terrorist attacks, and intensified crackdowns on pro-Palestinian activists—many of whom are Muslim—since Israel’s assault on Gaza began in October 2023.

Yet history reveals a far more nuanced reality. For much of the past 1,500 years of Islam’s existence, relations between Jews and Muslims have been characterized by coexistence, respect, and shared prosperity, severely disrupted only by modern colonial interventions and the advent of Zionism. Drawing on centuries of documented harmony and history dismantles the myth of eternal enmity between the two faith communities. From the Prophet Muhammad’s foundational pact with Jewish tribes to the Ottoman Empire’s embrace of Sephardic refugees, and even into the 20th century when Palestinians extended hospitality to Jews fleeing Nazi persecution, the record shows a pattern of refuge and collaboration.

Only with the rise of Zionism and the Nakba—the 1948 catastrophe that displaced over 750,000 Palestinians—did this equilibrium shatter, as some of those welcomed refugees returned the hospitality of Palestinians by dispossessing their hosts. By reclaiming this history we can demonstrate that it is the Zionist political agenda and not religious imperatives that have sown division between these two faith communities.

A Foundation of Coexistence: The Dawn of Islam

The story begins in 7th-century Arabia, where Islam emerged amid a mosaic of Jewish, Christian, and pagan communities. Contrary to later Zionist distortions, the Prophet Muhammad’s interactions with Jews were shaped by proximity and shared monotheistic roots, not inherent antagonism. The Constitution of Medina, drafted in 622 CE shortly after Muhammad’s arrival in the city, stands as one of the earliest examples of interfaith governance between Muslims and Jews. This charter explicitly included Jewish tribes in the ummah—the broader Muslim community—granting them autonomy in religious practice, legal affairs, and mutual defence against external threats.

It was a revolutionary document, establishing Jews as equal partners in a pluralistic society and setting a precedent for “dhimmi” status: protected non-Muslims who paid a poll tax in exchange for exemption from military service along with full communal rights.

As Islamic conquests unified the Middle East, North Africa, and beyond under the Rashidun, Umayyad, and Abbasid caliphates from the 7th to 9th centuries, Jewish communities—long marginalized under Christian Byzantine and Sassanid rule—found unprecedented stability. Unlike the recurrent pogroms and expulsions in Christian Europe, Muslim lands integrated Jews into the fabric of society. In Mesopotamia and Egypt, Jews served as administrators, scholars, and traders, contributing to the caliphates’ golden age. The House of Wisdom in Baghdad, an epicentre of translation and innovation during the Abbasid era (8th–13th centuries), saw Jewish and Muslim intellectuals collaborate to render Greek, Persian, and Indian texts into Arabic, preserving knowledge that would later be the foundation of the European Renaissance. Figures like Saadia Gaon, a 10th-century Jewish philosopher, thrived under Muslim patronage, blending Talmudic scholarship with Islamic theology.

This pluralism extended to daily life. Synagogues and mosques coexisted in urban quarters, and inter-communal dialogues enriched both faiths. The Quran itself acknowledges Jewish prophets like Moses and Abraham, urging respect for “People of the Book,” though it critiques specific theological disputes. While tensions arose from time to time—such as the 627 CE siege of the Banu Qurayza tribe amid tribal warfare—these were political, not religious conflicts, often resolved through negotiation rather than military campaigns.

The Golden Age in Al-Andalus

Nowhere was this harmony more luminous than in Al-Andalus, Muslim-ruled Spain from the 8th to 15th centuries. Under the Umayyad Emirate of Cordoba, Jews escaped the Visigothic persecutions that had plagued them in Christian Iberia, including forced baptisms and mass executions. Cordoba became a beacon of tolerance, its libraries rivaling Baghdad’s. Jewish viziers like Hasdai ibn Shaprut advised caliphs on diplomacy and medicine, while poets and philosophers crossed confessional lines.

The 10th-century “Golden Age” produced Maimonides (Musa ibn Maymun), the preeminent Jewish thinker, whose Guide for the Perplexed synthesized Aristotelian philosophy with Jewish law under Muslim intellectual influence. In Granada and Toledo, Muslims, Jews, and Christians advanced astronomy, mathematics, and poetry. Jewish scholars translated Arabic works into Hebrew, disseminating them across Europe. 

However, this era was not without friction. Occasional fatwas in some regions restricted Jewish dress or synagogue construction, echoing dhimmi hierarchies. Yet violence was rare compared to the Christian Crusades or Black Death massacres in Europe, where Jews were scapegoated and burned alive. Historian Bernard Lewis notes that, over 14 centuries, “there is nothing in Islamic history to parallel the Spanish expulsion and Inquisition, the Russian pogroms, or the Nazi Holocaust.” Muslim rulers positioned themselves as guardians of all minorities, rooted in Quranic calls for justice. 

Refuge from European Fury

As Christian Europe’s intolerance peaked—the 1492 Alhambra Decree expelling 200,000 Jews from Spain—Muslim realms offered sanctuary. Sultan Bayezid II of the Ottoman Empire derided Ferdinand and Isabella as fools for impoverishing Spain to enrich his domains, welcoming Sephardic Jewish refugees to Istanbul, Salonika, and Izmir. There, Jews revitalized trade and scholarship, and by the 16th century, they comprised a third of Salonika’s population, dubbing it “the mother of Israel in exile.” This pattern persisted during the 12th-century Crusades, when European Christians slaughtered Jews in the Rhineland and Jerusalem. While in Palestine Saladin (Salahuddin Ayyubi) recaptured the city in 1187 and invited Jews (who had been expelled from Jerusalem by Christian rulers) to return, ending centuries of exclusion under Roman and Byzantine rule.

In North Africa and the Levant, Jews under Muslim governance fared far better than in Christian lands. When the 628 CE Byzantine-Persian treaty included protections for Jews—later betrayed by Roman massacres—Muslim leaders like Caliph Umar reaffirmed safe passage. By the 19th century, as Ottoman reforms equalized rights, Jewish communities in Baghdad and Cairo flourished alongside Muslims, sharing markets and festivals.

A Shared Stand Against Fascism

This legacy of refuge extended into the 20th century, even as European antisemitism surged. During World War Two Muslims across Europe, Africa and the Middle-East risked everything to shield Jews from Nazi horrors. Iranian diplomat Abdol-Hossein Sardari, the “Iranian Schindler,” issued over 2,000 passports to Iranian Jews in occupied Paris, exploiting Nazi racial pseudoscience by claiming they were “Aryan” descendants of Cyrus the Great—who had freed Jews from Babylonian captivity in 539 BCE.

In Albania, a Muslim-majority nation under German occupation, the entire society conspired to hide Jews. By war’s end, Albania’s Jewish population had grown, the only Nazi-occupied country to achieve this. The Pilkus family in Albania sheltered Holocaust survivor Johanna Neumann, convincing neighbours she was a German relative. “They put their lives on the line to save us,” Neumann recalled. In Tunisia, Khaled Abdul Wahab hid two Jewish families in his farm’s stables, defying Gestapo raids. At Paris’s Great Mosque, Imam Kaddour Benghabrit forged Muslim certificates for Jews, while Turkish consul Selahattin Ulkumen ferried 50 Jews to safety on boats from Rhodes. Noor Inayat Khan, a British Muslim spy, transmitted vital intelligence from occupied France until her execution at Dachau. Even in Palestine, amid rising Zionist-Palestinian tensions, thousands volunteered against the Nazis. A 2019 study revealed 12,000 Palestinians—Muslims and Christians—served in British forces, fighting in North Africa and Europe. The Palestine Regiment saw Arabs and Jews shoulder-to-shoulder fighting against Hitler’s Nazi forces, a unity later fractured by the Nakba in 1948.

Palestinian Hospitality Betrayed

In Mandatory Palestine, this spirit manifested profoundly. As Nazi persecution escalated in Germany in the 1930s, over 60,000 German Jews fled to Palestine under the Haavara Agreement, despite British quotas limiting immigration to quell Arab unrest. Initial arrivals in the 1920s and early 1930s were often met with Palestinian hospitality. Oral histories and contemporary accounts document Palestinian families housing destitute Jewish refugees in Jaffa, Haifa, and Jerusalem, sharing meals and aiding integration. Palestinian leader Musa Alami recounted villagers offering shelter to European Jews, viewing them as fellow Semites fleeing tyranny—before Zionist land purchases and exclusivist settlements soured relations between the two communities.

Tensions boiled during the 1936–1939 Arab Revolt, sparked by fears of dispossession, but even then, individual acts of kindness persisted. Tragically, this generosity was repaid with expulsion. By 1948, Zionist terrorist groups like the Haganah and Irgun—bolstered by those once-welcomed refugees—destroyed over 500 Palestinian villages, expelling 750,000 in the Nakba. In places like Deir Yassin, Lydda and Ramle, families who had hosted Jews were driven out at gunpoint, their homes seized, and the inhabitants massacred. Benny Morris, an Israeli historian, documented how these operations, code named Plan Dalet, ethnically cleansed Arab populations to secure a Jewish majority on territory seized by the Zionists. The betrayal was stark. Palestinians, who had opened their doors amid global indifference, became refugees in their own land. 

Colonial Shadows: The Modern Fracture

The relative harmony between Jews and Muslims frayed not due to ancient hatreds but due to a form of European imperialism—namely Zionism. Born in 19th-century Europe, this Jewish supremacist ideology framed Palestine as a “land without a people” for a “people without a land,” conveniently ignoring its 1.2 million Muslim, Christian and Jewish inhabitants. The 1917 Balfour Declaration, a British colonial proposal, pledged a Jewish homeland in historic Palestine without the consent of its inhabitants, enabling mass immigration that tripled the Jewish population by 1947. Post-World War Two, as Britain withdrew its forces from Palestine, the United Nations’ Partition Plan allocated 56% of the territory for a Jewish state—despite Jews owning just 7% of the land, and accounting for only 33% of the population. The ensuing war cemented the Nakba, with Israeli policies of settlement expansion, exclusion, and blockade perpetuating Palestinian displacement.

The history of Jewish-Muslim relations is not a tale of a centuries long religious conflict as Zionists would like everyone to believe. It is rather a rich narrative marked by remarkable coexistence during very hostile eras of history. Only in the 20th century, with the colonization of historic Palestine, did tensions flare, fracturing ties between these communities in the Middle East.

The Zionist narrative of perpetual enmity between Jews and Muslims serves a political agenda, yet history offers a beacon of hope. From the inclusive pact of Medina to the flourishing Jewish communities in Al-Andalus and the Ottoman Empire and other Muslim lands, to the heroic acts of Muslims shielding Jews from Nazi persecution during World War II, these faith communities wove a tapestry of relative peace and mutual respect, unlike what Jews had experienced for centuries in Christian Europe. Ultimately this was all undone not by religion but by the political machinations of the Zionist movement. By drawing on this shared heritage, Muslims and Jews seeking peace in the Middle East can find inspiration to forge a harmonious future, and work towards an end to the decades-long conflict in historic Palestine that has taken hundreds of thousands of lives since 1948.
  
© 2025 The View From Here. © 2025 Fareed Khan. All Rights Reserved.