Anyone familiar with Jewish literature and history — including the Bible, the liturgy and secular writings through the ages — knows that the yearning for a return to the ancestral homeland of Israel, “Zion,” lies at the heart of Jewish consciousness. Those who claim otherwise are either ignorant or malevolent.

The people of Israel were forced to live in exile during several periods, most notably the Babylonian exile, 6th century BC, and the Roman and post-Roman exiles, from 2nd century AD to 1948. To preserve their identity, the Israelites forged a literary culture based on shared memory and values. The prophets Ezekiel, Jeremiah and Daniel wrote passionately about their people’s yearning to return to Israel from Babylon. This aspiration became deeply ingrained in Jewish cultural memory, echoing in the writings of luminaries through the ages, including the poet Yehuda Halevi, 11th century; the mystic Isaac Luria, 16th century; and of course Theodore Herzl, 19th to 20th centuries. Nor was this longing exclusively religious. In the Jewish psyche, religion, history and national identity are inseparable. Herzl, notably, was not a religious thinker but a secular prophet.

To deny the legitimacy of the Jewish homeland — or the Jewish people’s attachment to that land — is to try to erase Jewish memory. This is what the Romans were attempting when they renamed the land “Palestine.” The Christians during the Middle Ages and the Ottomans during their occupation of Palestine continued to deny the validity of the Jewish connection to Israel. To use the modern parlance, these efforts represented the schemes of colonizers to eliminate the identity of the people they colonized.

The Arab occupation of Palestine, roughly 7th century – 16th century, was at times tolerant of a small Jewish presence, particularly under Fatimid rule. Throughout this period, Jews were treated as dhimmis — a protected but subordinate minority. This status granted certain rights but also imposed restrictions and additional taxes. The degree of enforcement of these policies varied by ruler and era. During some periods, the Arab occupiers were more tolerant of the Jews than, for example, the Christian civilization of Europe. 

Despite all their efforts, the successive occupiers — Babylonians, Romans, Arabs, Byzantine Christians, Ottomans — failed to suppress the Jews’ identity. The people of Israel repeated their love of their historical homeland every time they gathered for prayer, over the course of millennia. And when the power of religion began to wane during the nineteenth century, the longing for Zion transformed into a secular, political movement.

Today, an enormous onslaught of antisemitic/anti-Zionist propaganda, fueled by petroleum revenues, once again attempts to sever the Jews’ connection to their land. I can hardly begin, in this limited space, to enumerate the distortions that Jewish students are having to confront day in and day out. Suffice it to say, anti-Zionist polemics generally involve: misleading representations of the history of Israel, grossly inaccurate information about demographics and minority rights in contemporary Israel, biased readings of the conflict between Israel and some of its neighbors, including the Palestinian Authority and Hamas, and absurd claims that Israel is a “colonialist” enterprise — which is the opposite of the truth.

Even more disgusting is the support of many students for the psychopathic hatred that animates organizations like Hamas and Hezbollah. The fact that such moral confusion is flowing from Ivy League universities is a stunning development, sadly reminiscent of the 1930s.

What anti-Zionist students and perhaps some of their professors have been expressing is the old-fashioned antisemitism of ignorant, hateful mobs. As such, it is one of the most deep-rooted, virulent and pernicious forms of prejudice. In the future, when historians look back at our time, they will see this clearly.

Membership in a mob surely does bring rewards: a sense of community, participation in an endeavor greater than oneself and “moral” purpose — however warped or even disingenuous. But be aware — we Zionists are humans, too. Although we do not ask for sympathy — we can defend ourselves and are pretty good at surviving — it is also true that when you prick us, we bleed. If that brings you pleasure, I suggest you think hard about what moral universe you dwell in, and how you and your peers are shaping Yale’s future.

MITCHELL JAMES KAPLAN is a Yale alumnus, Class of 1979, and the author of prize-winning novels By Fire, By Water, Into the Unbounded Night and Rhapsody.