Few questions in
modern geopolitics are as emotionally charged, politically loaded, and
repeatedly invoked as this: Does Israel have a right to exist? It is a question
that appears almost reflexively whenever Palestinian rights are raised. Before
one can speak about occupation, settlements, or human suffering, one is often
asked to answer this foundational question. Yet, curiously, very few other
nations, many of them newer than Israel, are subjected to the same test. To
understand why, we must first examine the arguments as they are presented, and
then carefully consider the tensions and inconsistencies that arise.
From the Israeli
perspective and its supporters, the argument rests on several pillars. First,
rightly or wrongly, there is the historical and religious connection to the
land. Jews trace their roots to ancient kingdoms in the region, and for many,
this connection is not merely historical but spiritual. Second, and perhaps
most powerfully, is the legacy of the Holocaust. The systematic murder of accordingly
six million Jews stands as one of humanity’s darkest chapters. It is often
argued that this tragedy demonstrated, beyond doubt, the need for a Jewish
homeland where Jews would no longer be at the mercy of others. Third, there is
international recognition. The United Nations Partition Plan for Palestine
proposed the creation of both a Jewish and an Arab state. Following its
declaration of independence in 1948, Israel was recognized by many countries
and admitted into the United Nations. Finally, there is the principle of
self-determination. If other peoples are entitled to form nation-states, why
not the Jews? Taken together, these arguments form a coherent case. Israel
exists, it is recognized, and its people, like any other, seek security and
sovereignty.
Yet, there is
another side to this story, one that raises difficult and often uncomfortable
questions. Before 1948, there was already a land known as Palestine, inhabited
by its people. While there were ancient kingdoms known as Israel and Judah,
there was never a modern sovereign state of Israel in the way we understand
states today. The Balfour Declaration, issued by a colonial power, supported
the establishment of a Jewish homeland in that land. To many, this was not a
neutral legal act but a colonial intervention that set the stage for conflict.
It is also worth recalling that early Zionist thinking, led by figures such as
Theodor Herzl, did not initially fixate solely on Palestine. Alternatives such
as Uganda and Argentina were seriously considered. This suggests that the
justification for Palestine, while later framed as historical or biblical, was,
at one stage, also pragmatic.
Furthermore, if the
claim is ultimately rooted in a biblical idea of Israel, then it must also be
measured against what the Bible demands. The biblical concept is not one of a
modern democratic nation-state that selects certain elements while discarding others.
It is a covenantal framework, grounded in obedience, moral responsibility, and
divine law. One cannot invoke the promise of the land while setting aside the
conditions attached to it. To claim a biblical basis, yet operate outside its
full demands, raises a fundamental inconsistency: is this a modern political
project, or a true continuation of a biblical model?
Then comes the moral
question of the Holocaust itself. The atrocity was committed by Nazi Germany,
not by Palestinians or other Middle Eastern peoples. If restitution or
compensation was required, why was it not borne by those responsible? Why was a
different population made to carry the consequences? This is not to diminish
the horror of the Holocaust. It is to ask whether justice for one people can be
built upon the dispossession of another.
Since 1948, the
world has seen the birth of many new states. Malaysia gained independence in
1957. Brunei followed in 1984. After the collapse of the Soviet Union,
countries such as Moldova, Ukraine, and Kazakhstan emerged. More recently,
South Sudan became independent in 2011. Yet none of these nations are routinely
asked, “Do you have a right to exist?” In most cases, independence meant that
the people already living on the land became citizens of a new state. There was
continuity. There was no large-scale displacement tied to the creation of the
state itself. In the case of Israel, however, two peoples laid claim to the
same land, and the Jews were mostly brought from across Europe. For
Palestinians, 1948 is not only a moment of independence for another people, but
also a moment of loss. This unresolved tension continues to echo into the
present.
Another layer of
complexity lies in the question of borders. Unlike most modern states, Israel’s
final borders have never been fully settled. After the Six-Day War, Israel took
control of territories including the West Bank and East Jerusalem. Since then,
settlements have expanded, and the status of these lands remains deeply
contested. Today, Lebanon is also a target. This creates a perception,
particularly among critics, that the “right to exist” is not merely about the
existence of a state, but about a state whose geographical scope continues to
evolve. It looks more like a right to colonized. Supporters of Israel reject
this interpretation. They argue that the right to exist is about sovereignty
and security, not expansion, and that borders were always meant to be finalized
through negotiation. Yet, from the outside, the reality on the ground raises a
difficult question: where does existence end and expansion begin?
In many discussions,
asking “Does Israel have a right to exist?” functions less as a philosophical
inquiry and more as a gatekeeping tool. It shifts the conversation away from
present realities and places the burden on the speaker to first declare a position.
In doing so, it reframes debates about human rights, justice, and policy into a
binary test of legitimacy.
History is filled
with immense human suffering. The Holocaust stands as one of the most horrific,
but it is not the only tragedy. Millions perished in World War II beyond the
Jewish community. The Soviet Union alone lost approximately 27 million people. In
colonial contexts, policies such as those during the Bengal famine under
Winston Churchill have been cited as contributing to mass deaths. Yet, in none
of these cases was a new state created on another people’s land as a form of
redress. This raises a broader moral question: are we applying consistent
standards when we speak of justice, restitution, and the rights of nations?
The debate does not
end with history. It returns, forcefully, to the present. Even if one accepts
that Israel has a right to exist as a state, a deeper and more uncomfortable
question arises: What does that right mean in practice today? Is it simply the right
to exist within secure and recognised borders, like any other nation? Or has
it, over time, come to include actions that go beyond self-defence and into the
realm of continuous conflict?
A state’s right to
exist cannot be detached from its responsibility. The perception among many
observers is that Israeli leadership, particularly under Benjamin Netanyahu,
plays a decisive role in shaping the trajectory of conflict in the region. The
concern is not influence alone, but whether that influence consistently pushes
toward escalation rather than resolution. Across decades, there is a recurring
claim that moments of potential diplomacy in the Middle East often collapse
before they can mature. From negotiations involving Yasser Arafat to repeated
attempts at a two-state solution, many observers argue that efforts toward
peace are frequently undermined by actions on the ground that make those
efforts harder to sustain. Recent events with Iran appear to support this view.
Mediators are targeted, and just before a diplomatic solution is about to bear
fruit, Israel is perceived to act in ways that derail it. Even the current
ceasefire has been strained by Israel’s continued attacks on Lebanon.
Supporters of Israel
reject this view, pointing to real security threats and the role of multiple
actors in the region. Yet the perception persists that military action often
overtakes diplomacy at critical moments. What troubles many is not a single incident,
but what appears to be a pattern of recurring conflict involving neighbouring
regions and countries such as Lebanon, Syria, and Iran. Each conflict has its
own context and justification. But taken together, they raise a broader
question: at what point does constant conflict begin to define the character of
a state’s existence?
To bring this into
sharper focus, consider a simple analogy. Imagine a school. Every kid has a
right to “exist” as a student. In that school, there is a student who
constantly creates problems. He bullies others, takes what does not belong to
him, harms smaller students, and shows no regard for rules. He even murders one
of his classmates. Each time he does this, a powerful authority figure protects
him. No matter what happens, there are no real consequences. In fact, he is
given the tools to cause even more harm.
Now the question is
straightforward. Do we allow this to continue? Do we say that the student has a
right to be in the school, and therefore nothing more can be done? Do we allow
other students to continue being harmed in the name of protecting that one student?
Should our first response be to ask whether the bully has a right to be a
student, instead of first taking his harmful acts seriously? Or should he be
expelled as quickly as possible?
Or do we recognise a
basic principle: that a student’s place in the school is tied to behaviour,
that rights come with responsibility, and that repeated harm cannot be ignored.
In any functioning system, there must be consequences. Limits must be imposed.
Harmful behaviour must be restrained. Protection cannot become permission. No
school can function if rules apply to everyone except one. The student would
have been expelled.
Israel exists today,
a reality that cannot be ignored. But existence, in the modern world, is not a
blank cheque. It is tied to responsibility, restraint, and adherence to norms
that allow others to live with dignity and security. If a state refuses to define
its borders, and its territorial footprint continues to expand in practice,
then a difficult implication follows. Expansion cannot be a one-way logic. If a
state can grow beyond its original lines without clear limits, then by the same
principle, it can also be restricted, reduced, and contained when its actions
consistently undermine peace. This is not about denying a people’s existence.
It is about the limits of state power.
The Jews have experienced many cycles of “Arrival →
coexistence → distinct identity and roles → tension in crisis → restriction →
displacement” throughout history. Many times, they were scapegoated and were
the victims. But today, Zionism is not Judaism. The cycle may turn faster. If
these Zionist playbooks continue, displacement may happen again.
Large segments of the American public are already
questioning their leaders’ emphasis on Israel’s well-being instead of
prioritising America first. Increasingly, even among traditional allies, there
are signs of discomfort. Some European leaders have begun to view Israel not as
a stabilising force, but as a source of tension in an already fragile global
landscape.
Beyond the North Atlantic,
many countries in the Global South have long been uneasy. While they may have
tolerated Israel’s actions for strategic or diplomatic reasons, the underlying
sentiment has often been one of dissatisfaction. At the ground level, across
continents, the mood is clearer. Large segments of the global public are
increasingly angered by what they see happening to the Palestinians. This is no
longer a regional issue. It is shaping global perception, public discourse, and
future alignments.
These are signs to come.
As for me
personally, I do believe Israel has a right to exist, but not on Palestinian
land. And given the Zionist behaviour, just like the school bully mentioned,
one should also question their moral right to exist as a state.
Peace.
Anas Zubedy
Penang.
