The Jewish addiction to victimhood

From Danny Danon at the UN to Benjamin Netanyahu in his speeches, Israel has become addicted to perpetuating a culture of victimhood on the world stage. Is it any wonder, then, that this same phenomenon manifests within Israeli society itself? Victims—hostages and the like—are elevated to near-celebrity status, transformed into symbols of imagined moral authority.

The Roots of Victimhood

Where does this bizarre, almost flagellant pathology originate? Why the persistent need to identify as victims?

The foundation of this phenomenon lies in centuries of Christian persecution. Christianity, which holds that a man can be God, has long blamed the Jewish people for the suffering of that man. As a result, Christians in Europe sought to victimize the Jews, recasting them as the ultimate sufferers.

This historical oppression was not merely an act of cruelty but a deliberate effort to erase the Jews' true nature as a warrior people, forcing them into submission and servitude. European Christian societies sought to redefine Jewish identity, stripping it of its inherent strength and sovereignty.

And yet, the greatest tragedy is that elements of Israeli leadership today have internalized this imposed narrative. Rather than rejecting the shackles of victimhood, they embrace them, unknowingly playing into the same historical trap. They have become slaves to the nations, pleading for recognition rather than asserting their strength.

This mindset is a far cry from the resilience of Jewish history. The Jews of antiquity stood tall against Rabshakeh on the walls of Jerusalem, refusing to surrender. The Torah itself is filled with narratives of bravery, defiance, and an absolute unwillingness to be victims—yet modern Israel seems to have forgotten this legacy.

The Psychological Comfort of Victimhood

Beyond historical persecution, the victimhood complex stems from a deep-seated desire to be seen as non-threatening. Many Jews instinctively seek sympathy rather than respect, hoping that presenting themselves as vulnerable will earn them affection.

This flawed premise taps into a universal human tendency—to believe that vulnerability inspires love. But in reality, weakness rarely garners admiration, and those who constantly display it often find themselves abandoned.

This false belief also aligns with another deeply ingrained idea: the concept of martyrdom (Harugei Malchut)—the notion that if one cannot wield power, at the very least, their suffering can be sanctified. But Zionism was never about that.

Zionism rejected the cult of victimhood. It was a movement of action, of self-determination, of bravery in the face of overwhelming odds. Long before the Holocaust, the infrastructure for a Jewish state was already in place—not because Jews were victims, but because they fought for their place among the nations.

Yet, in the past 40 years, the myth of the Holocaust has overtaken the myth of the pioneering Zionist (Chalutz) as the dominant force in shaping Jewish identity.

Until the 1980s, Jews justified their existence in Israel based on who they were and what they deserved. Now, the dominant justification is the mantra of “never again”—a slogan rooted not in self-determination but in reactive victimhood. Even the Zionist warrior must now contextualize himself within a framework of suffering, rather than one of strength and destiny.

It is as if the Jewish people, having fought for sovereignty, now refuse to fully embrace it. Instead, they retreat to the comfortable, familiar role of the perpetual victim—a role that fits the diasporic instinct, which believes that presenting oneself as oppressed may evoke recognition or mercy from the outside world.

But begging for mercy is no way to build a nation.

The Futility of Victimhood

The problem, however, is that victimhood is not a sustainable investment:

A Failed Strategy

Ultimately, the obsession with victimhood is a losing strategy—whether in terms of moral authority, national identity, or political success.

The Jewish people did not survive two millennia of exile by embracing weakness—but by holding fast to the Torah, their identity, and their strength.

It is time to shed the victimhood narrative and reclaim the legacy of strength, resilience, and sovereignty—as the Torah commands.