Albert Einstein was born in 1879 in Germany and died in 1955 in the United States. As a Jew, he saw, heard, and experienced it all: from the rise of global antisemitism, which was centered in Germany and forced him to flee for his safety, to what could be seen as a renaissance of the Jewish-Zionist cause that began with the publication of Theodor Herzl's "Der Judenstaat" or "The Jewish State" and culminated in the establishment of Israel in 1948, following Britain's thirty-year occupation of Palestine.
The turbulent ups and downs of the Jewish people prompted Einstein to declare in his "Manifesto" while still in Germany: "As long as I have any choice, I will only stay in a country where political liberty, tolerance, and equality of all citizens before the law prevail" (Albert Einstein, Ideas and Opinions).
Einstein was quick to point out that such ideal conditions were not the case in Germany. He did so in March 1933 when writing his "Manifesto," during a time that saw the rapid rise of Hitler. More specifically, in January 1933, Hitler was appointed Chancellor of Germany, and by February-March 1933, he secured emergency powers for himself. True to his word and beliefs, Einstein fled Germany and arrived in the United States on October 17, 1933, citing as the main reason the increasing persecution of Jews and intellectuals.
As a consequence, Einstein had been barred from working at any universities in his homeland, and his books were publicly burned. His "crime" was his Jewish background, combined with his vocal criticism of the increasingly totalitarian Nazi regime. Due to Einstein's fame, especially after winning the 1921 Nobel Prize for his theory of relativity, this criticism did not sit well with the Germans. Also, Einstein soon learned that he was on an assassination list. The Nazi regime placed a bounty of about ÂŁ50,000 on his head, while a German magazine included him in a list of the Nazis' enemies who were "not yet hanged." (Julian Gavaghan, On This Day: Albert Einstein arrives in America after fleeing Nazi Germany).
Some German scientists even mocked Einstein's award-winning theory of relativity. The 1905 Nobel Prize-winning physicist Philipp Lenard, who saw Einstein as a rival, called it "Jewish fraud" (Lisa Wade McCormick, Albert Einstein).
Einstein's criticism was not only confined to antisemitism but also extended to encompass all people and human civilization as a whole. He believed that humans lived for one another and that their destinies were connected by sympathy and tolerance. He thought that achieving social justice and responsibility depended on the nature and strength of human interactions and communication, both individually and collectively.
In the same vein, he abhorred autocratic systems of coercion and viewed class distinctions as unjustified and ultimately based on force. His political model was democracy, where every person should be free and respected as an individual, and no person should be idolized (Albert Einstein, The World as I See It).
Einstein was furthermore a strong pacifist, which stemmed from his distinct moral philosophy. He viewed war as a failure of moral progress and famously stated that war was a mean and contemptible thing. He expressed that he "would rather be hacked in pieces than take part in such an abominable business." The main causes of war as a blight on civilization were the corruptions linked to commercial and political interests promoted through schools and the press (Albert Einstein, The World as I See It).
Owing to these viewpoints of his, he likewise thought that "all religions, arts, and sciences are branches of the same tree. Such aspirations aim to ennoble man's life, lifting it from mere physical existence and guiding the individual toward freedom." In an ideal world, they should transcend and operate independently from the problematic and often self-interested politics. Each of religion-in a universal and general sense-art, and science can penetrate into the deeper recesses of existence and provide what politics can only dream of and promise deceitfully: sublime pleasure and celestial joy (Albert Einstein, Out of My Later Years).
Einstein was torn between two painful realities: the suffering of Jews worldwide and the promising opportunity of nationalist Zionism, supported by the world's superpowers. While the latter could address the issues linked to the former, it also posed a range of potential moral and humanitarian challenges associated with nationalism, including evils such as violent conflicts, fanaticism, and oppression, against which Einstein fought vigorously.
Einstein went for the impossible, most certainly driven by his extraordinary scientific spirit that always aimed to attain the apparently unattainable and solve the ostensibly unsolvable. However, he soon realized that the world of tangible realities, especially in politics, which is replete with untruthful people, dishonest goals, and dirty tactics, was a completely different proposition to deal with, unlike the pure world of ideas and theories.
Politics is a science, a conceptual framework, a reflection of both real and constructed conditions, and a manipulative playacting-all at once. As such, it was poorly related to Einstein's preoccupations. His ideas signified a fascinating blend of scientific theoretical genius and practical technological impact, with the latter developing gradually over a long period. The pandemonium and two-facedness of politics were anomalies in Einstein's universe.
After serious consideration, Einstein in addition to subscribing to the ideals of Zionism also became a passionate and prominent member. The conversion was not instantaneous, though. According to Einstein's biographer, Albrecht Folsing, when some Zionist officials approached Einstein in 1919, looking for prominent Jews to support the establishment of a Jewish homeland in Palestine, he initially felt inclined to cold-shoulder them. Such a sentiment was somewhat expected, as Zionism was a remote issue for Einstein, both geographically and due to its nationalist component-the creation of a Jewish state-which was one of Einstein's biggest vexations. However, when it was explained to him that the concept of Zionism aimed, above all, to provide Jews with inner security, independence, and freedom, Einstein yielded, recognizing his own objectives in the initiative. He is reported to have said: "I am against nationalism but for the Jewish cause" (Albrecht Folsing, Albert Einstein: A Biography).
In a letter written in 1947 to the Prime Minister of India, Jawaharlal Nehru, Einstein emphasized that he made the cause of Zionism a significant part of his mission because he saw it as a way to correct a serious injustice. It was as if he felt compelled to join the ranks of Zionism. For him, the widespread antisemitism was a sign of a global failure for which there seemed to be no solution in sight. He asserted that the bigotry of chauvinists and racists, whose beliefs have caused so much harm to humanity, has always been foreign to him. Although Zionism is not perfect, it offered hope and a way to explore potential solutions. He then stressed that if better alternatives were ever to arise, he would be among the first to support them: "If the vision of an international society, a true parliament of man, were ever to be realized, I venture to say I should be among its most sympathetic supporters. But even in the interest of this ultimate ideal, the first steps must surely be the removal of the stigma of (Jewish) inferiority from every group and people in the world."
Einstein worked out his own version of Zionism: one focused on culture and humanitarianism, rather than politics or nationalism. He supported the idea of a Jewish homeland in Palestine but opposed the creation of a Jewish state with borders, an army, and political sovereignty. He believed in establishing a Jewish center of learning and culture, specifically through institutions like the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, of which he was a cofounder. Strictly speaking, a future Jewish homeland should be a cultural and spiritual center, not a militarized nation-state.
He also perceived Zionism as a way to provide refuge and dignity to persecuted Jews, especially after the rise of Nazism and the Holocaust. At the same time, he was deeply wary of nationalism-related problems and feared that a Jewish state could foster narrow chauvinism and hostility with Arabs. Therefore, in 1946, he advocated for a bi-national status in Palestine, with free immigration and equal rights for Jews and Arabs.
Einstein said in "Our Debt to Zionism," an address given during the celebration of the "Third Seder" by the National Labor Committee for Palestine at the Commodore Hotel in New York City on April 17, 1938, which was published in New Palestine, Washington, D.C. on April 28, 1938: "I would much rather see a reasonable agreement with the Arabs based on living together in peace than the creation of a Jewish state. Apart from practical considerations, my understanding of the essential nature of Judaism resists the idea of a Jewish state with borders, an army, and any measure of temporal power, no matter how modest. I fear the inner damage Judaism will suffer-especially from the rise of a narrow nationalism within our own ranks, against which we have already had to fight strongly, even without a Jewish state. We are no longer the Jews of the Maccabee period. A return to a nation in the political sense would be equivalent to turning away from the spiritualization of our community, which we owe to the genius of our prophets. If external necessity should compel us to take on this burden, let us do so with tact and patience" (Albert Einstein, Ideas and Opinions).
He imagined a scenario so ideal that anything less felt like failure. Yet, reality seldom accommodates such perfection. Life and the historical and religious perspectives in Palestine are complex, filled with competing interests, unpredictable turns, and human limitations. Pursuing a flawless outcome can sometimes blind a person to what is practical or even good enough. In chasing perfection, one often risks losing sight of what is possible. The trajectory of truth and humanity as its epitome can also get lost.
This mindset-often based on excessive idealism-can lead to frustration or confusion. When the impossible becomes the only acceptable outcome, it is difficult to objectively assess the situation and measure success. It's like trying to build castles in the air or catch the wind: noble in intention but ultimately unsustainable, or, to put it more correctly, unfeasible. True wisdom lies in knowing when to pursue ideals and when to accept the world as it is-and to adjust accordingly.
When Einstein visited Palestine in 1923 - his only visit, coming one year after being awarded the Nobel Prize in Physics - he remained optimistic, believing that the Zionist project of creating a Jewish homeland, in line with his own philosophy, would eventually succeed. He was reported to have said that he greatly liked his fellow Jews in Palestine, describing them as noble farmers, workers, and citizens. Their pioneering spirit and contributions to the development of Hebrew culture were deeply admired.
Although the land was not very fertile in agricultural and economic terms, Einstein believed it had the potential to become a moral and cultural hub. The latter took precedence over everything else. In a lecture given on Mount Scopus, where Jerusalem's Hebrew University campus is located, the Nobel laureate expressed hope that the University would become a center of wisdom and science for all peoples of the East.
Einstein was convinced that the colonization and settlement efforts would blossom. The Jewish settlers were poised to enhance the country's prosperity and expand its prospects. What he witnessed was, in a sense, a result of his own exertions. For instance, two years earlier, in 1921, he traveled to the United States to raise money for Jewish settlements in Palestine and the Hebrew University in Jerusalem. He wrote: "I am really doing whatever I can for the brothers of my race who are treated so badly everywhere" (Lisa Wade McCormick, Albert Einstein).
Nonetheless, though it was early to draw any conclusions, a storm was brewing on the horizon. The thin layer of idealism was soon to be punctured, and a troubling reality was about to set in. Some hints of this circumstance emerged when, during the same visit to Palestine, Einstein remarked that the land in Palestine would not be able to accommodate a significant portion of the Jewish people. This undeniably had serious implications for future urban planning, general development, and interactions with neighboring communities, which were supposed to lead to integration and peaceful coexistence.
Moreover, Einstein described Jerusalem as very dirty and its Jewish worshipers as grimy, a pitiful sight of people with a past but without a present. Clearly, pure religious matters were the last thing both Einstein and his Zionist peers had in mind or wished to realize, whereas most people's top priorities revolved around their religious dogmas and a resurgence of nationalistic consciousness. They neither understood nor cared about what their best compatriot fantasized about.
Einstein also admitted that the collectivism and communalism of the people that impressed him most would not last forever, but he expressed certainty that it would raise people of integrity. At any rate, the intricate nature of existence, unforeseen developments, and inherent human constraints were prepared to affect personal and collective decision-making. Before long, idealism will soon be disproven by the harshness of real-world experience.
Einstein did not wish to stay in the Holy Land, even though invitations and offers abounded, acknowledging that his heart was telling him yes, but his reason was saying no. He stated he did not want to stay because he felt free in Europe, while there he would always be a prisoner. He had no intention of being a mere ornament in Jerusalem. (Ofer Aderet, 100 years ago Albert Einstein took his one and only trip to the holy land; this is what happened).
Einstein's refusal to settle in Palestine, issuing from his inner turmoil about whether to stay or not, reflects the idea that Palestine is not the rightful home for Jews. The belief that Palestine, or part of it, belongs to Jews is a fabricated narrative imposed on the Jewish consciousness due to widespread nationalism and rampant antisemitism. Jews viewed the prospect of colonizing Palestine as an opportunity to improve their socio-political and economic situation, jumping on the bandwagon of jingoism.
Palestine was chosen from several proposed options not because of inherent principles, but due to available expediencies. The other options considered, whether seriously or not, included Argentina, Uganda, Madagascar, Cyprus, Libya, Angola, Honduras, Suriname, Alaska (US), and certain parts of Australia, as well as the USSR. Jews needed and wanted a home (or anybody's home), not the home (or their due home). If someone already had a home, like Einstein, they were not inclined to move to Palestine as just another potential home.
He discusses Jews and Palestine as their future national home but only occasionally mentions Arabs, without emphasizing that they had lived and farmed in that country for hundreds of years and considered it their home. He never seriously considered the actual repercussions of the Jewish arrival and their overlap with the indigenous people, not just regarding social well-being and economics but as well concerning differing histories, religious dynamics, and civilizational perspectives.
Whatever Einstein used to say on all that was nonspecific and ambiguous, devoid of practical considerations. By way of illustration, in his exchange of letters with the editor of an Arab journal in Jaffa in 1930, Einstein reiterated that the difficulties between Jews and Arabs in Palestine were more psychological than real, and that they could be overcome if both sides approached the task with honesty and goodwill. The two great Semitic peoples are honorable and must cooperate to create a shared future. Mutual mistrust was the main obstacle that needed to be removed.
Einstein then suggested forming a council to which both Jews and Arabs would send four representatives, independent of all political parties, representing lawyers, doctors, trade unions, and religious leaders. Through this council, both Jews and Arabs would represent and harmonize their interests vis-Ă -vis the British Mandate. Einstein explained how he envisioned the council working; however, Albrecht Folsing, the author of one of Einstein's biographies, described the matter as both arbitrary and unrealistic. It was inconsistent with the context.
Einstein's idealism, yet naivety, was on full display when he, while reflecting on his visit to Palestine, stated that the Jewish settlers biggest problems were financial debts and malaria. "In comparison with these two evils, the Arab question becomes as nothing." He reached this strange conclusion based solely on observing some superficial friendly interactions between a few Jewish and Arab workers. He then remarked, remaining true to his unrealistically equivocal nature, that he believed most of the difficulties in Jewish-Arab relations stemmed from intellectuals, and not just from Arab intellectuals (Albert Einstein, My Impression on Palestine).
It must be emphasized that it was not merely Einstein but as well the entire Zionist movement that was surrounded by misconceptions when the Zionist project was conceived and attempted to be realized. They were stuck in their own little universe, maintaining an insular existence. According to Fred Jerome in his book "Einstein on Israel and Zionism," many Zionists claimed that there were virtually no Arabs living in Palestine, as if the land was free and up for grabs. They thus developed the slogan "A land without people (Palestine) for a people without land (Jews)."
However, more than half a million people lived in Palestine at that time-families with homes, schools, mosques, and farms-making their presence obvious to any visitor. Persistent official declarations by Muslim political and religious officials that no inch of Palestinian land was to be confiscated, traded, or donated fell on deaf ears. This raises the question of what type of people the Zionists are and in which world they lived and continue to live. One widely reported story is that when Max Nordau, one of Herzl's earliest disciples, first visited Palestine and discovered Arabs living there, he was shocked. He ran to his master exclaiming: "I didn't know that-but then we are committing an injustice" (Fred Jerome, Einstein on Israel and Zionism).
When Einstein wrote to Jawaharlal Nehru in 1947, trying to justify the imminent creation of Israel by emphasizing the ongoing suffering of Jews and the overstated belief that they had significantly improved conditions in Palestine, Nehru did not allow himself to be swayed. He responded to Einstein, expressing sympathy for Jewish suffering but raising concerns based on real events: "One question troubles me. After all these remarkable achievements, why have they (Jews) failed to gain the goodwill of Arabs? Why do they want to compel the Arabs to submit against their will to certain demands?" Nehru was clear that no Arab rights should be desecrated and that solving the Jewish predicament should not lead to the creation of as severe a predicament for Arabs.
Moreover, no sooner had the organized and systematic arrival of Jews and the colonization of the Palestinian lands started than Muslims felt they had to take action. They did not hide their displeasure. Some stood firmly against the enduring injustices and violations committed by either the Jewish settlers or the British occupiers, leading to various types and levels of confrontations. People simply wished to make powerful statements as to who exactly was who and what exactly was what.
Einstein was free to define the Jewish case in his propaganda speeches, letters, and articles as one of following agreements and making fair land purchases. However, these actions were carried out under the aegis of the occupying British, whose history with the Muslim world is well-known for its manipulations, distortions, and coercions. Aside from the West-Zionism alliance, few others supported the idea of Palestine for Jews.
To the rest of the world, the British occupation of Palestine transformed into a Zionist invasion. Furthermore, as is becoming increasingly clear today, such represented the last and most masterful act of Western antisemitism, where the West sought to eliminate the Jewish menace, confining it to a single geopolitical entity, while simultaneously turning Jews against their only historic ally: Muslims. In this instance, the West pitted two of its greatest adversaries against each other, allowing it to concentrate some of its efforts elsewhere.
Not surprisingly, shocked out of fanciful thinking into a grounded perspective, Einstein referred to the Arabs who stood up to the Zionist occupation to defend their lives, rights, properties, dignity, and future as "Arab chauvinists, hate-mongers, fanatics, outlaws, and bandits." He stated: "Now the fateful disease of our time-exaggerated nationalism, fueled by blind hatred-has brought our work in Palestine to a most difficult stage. Fields cultivated by day must have armed protection at night against fanatical Arab outlaws. All economic life suffers from insecurity. The spirit of enterprise languishes, and a certain measure of unemployment (modest when measured by American standards) has made its appearance" (Albert Einstein, Ideas and Opinions).
Nonetheless, in reality, the massacre was intended to ensure, through the most painful threat, that the creation of Zionist Israel was not delayed. It was also meant to set the stage for the future, signaling what was to come. Occurring on the eve of Israel's establishment, the massacre conveyed the message that Zionists were eager to take matters into their own hands and to act fully in a Zionist manner. They were impatient to get started.
According to Einstein himself, the massacre resulted in nearly the complete destruction of the village, leading to 240 deaths, including women and children. A non-aggression pact was in place with the village, yet the massacre still occurred. Additionally, the villagers fought off Arab bands whenever they attempted to use the village as a base to trouble the Jewish settlers.
In response, Einstein, along with several Jewish intellectuals, wrote a letter to the editor of the New York Times to strongly condemn the incident and those responsible for it, particularly Menachem Begin, who was a leader of a Zionist militant group that emerged from the underground in August 1948 and formed the right-wing political party called Herut "Freedom". In the letter, Einstein described Begin and his party as "one of the most disturbing political phenomena of our time." He also compared them to the Nazi and Fascist parties, pressing the American government and public to refrain from offering them any sympathy or support.
In passing, in 1973, this Nazi and Fascist-like party became a partner in the Likud coalition, which is known for its extremist right-wing tendencies throughout the history of Israeli politics. They were largely responsible for the recurring socio-political turmoil in Palestine. Today's Israeli government, accountable for the ongoing genocide in Gaza, is led by the same Likud party, whose chairman is Benjamin Netanyahu, officially recognized as a war criminal due to the atrocities in Gaza. As per Einstein's wisdom, it can be easily inferred that Menachem Begin belonged to Hitler's club. The same applies to those of the same ilk, with the genocidal tyrant Netanyahu, the longest-serving prime minister of Israel, leading the pack.
Seven years after the establishment of Israel, in 1955, Einstein died. In 1952, he was offered the position of the country's president. He declined, humbly-and perhaps even cynically-citing old age, political inexperience, and insufficient people skills as reasons for his unsuitability. He said: "All my life I have dealt with objective matters; hence, I lack both the natural aptitude and the experience to deal properly with people and to exercise official functions" (John Kuroski, Why Einstein Turned Down The Presidency Of Israel).
Instead, Einstein was unhappy neither with the country's leadership nor with the direction in which it was heading. He sensed that his biggest fears were about to materialize: excessive Jewish nationalism that could eventually resemble the Western nationalism that led to the persecution of Jews. If developments continued along the lines of the precursors to the Deir Yassin massacre, Einstein dreaded that Jews might become the architects of another form of mass annihilation, this time against Arabs. Antisemitism could then morph into anti-Arabism.
He could not miss that the moral, spiritual, cultural, and overall humane considerations of the newly established state of Israel were increasingly compromised in favor of narrow-mindedness, militarism, and fascist politics. Einstein was adamant that the future of Israel depended entirely on peace with its Arab neighbors first and foremost. The first step towards that ideal was to genuinely want peace and to genuinely work on achieving it.
How right Einstein was. His decision to decline the position of Israel's second president indicated his growing disillusionment with the practical direction of the Zionist enterprise. If he could look into the future of the state of Israel, filled with injustices and aggression, ultimately culminating in the current unprecedented genocide in Gaza, Einstein would surely regret his initial support for Zionism and wish he had chosen a different path to achieve his vision for the Jewish people. He would want - it can be argued - to dissociate himself from a movement and ideology soaked in the blood of innocent children and civilians in Palestine, and thus shunned and abhorred by all sane and morally sound people in the world.
Einstein's reaction to the subsequent character of Zionism would have been similar to his response when the atomic bombs were dropped on Nagasaki and Hiroshima, leaving lasting scars on human civilization. The creation of the bombs was partly and indirectly supported by Einstein's groundbreaking scientific knowledge and was developed to some extent at his behest. In 1939, six years after fleeing from Germany to the US, Einstein was one of the scientists who signed a letter to President Roosevelt imploring him to accelerate the exploration of the possibilities for producing an atomic bomb to preempt Nazi Germany's attempts to do the same.
However, when it became obvious how much damage and human suffering the dropped atomic bombs had caused, Einstein regretted signing the letter. He is reported to have said: "Had I known that the Germans would not succeed in developing an atomic bomb, I would have done nothing." One year before his death he once more underlined that being one of the signers of the letter to Roosevelt was the "one great mistake in my life" (Colin McEvoy, Albert Einstein's Role in the Atomic Bomb Was the 'One Great Mistake in My Life').
From day one, it was clear that Zionism was a jingoistic ideology and movement heavily politicized to serve goals inconsistent with Einstein's personal worldview. Even a brief look at Theodor Herzl's "The Jewish State" unmistakably reveals this. The book never mentions Arabs or Muslims as a community with a centuries-old history, identity, culture, and civilization with whom Jews were supposed to coexist and share the Palestinian land. Herzl only refers in elusive and abstract terms to "neighboring states" and "the present masters of the land," which can easily be depersonalized, dehumanized, and erased as both individuals and communities when necessary.
On the contrary, Herzl affirms that the future Zionist state will "form a portion of the rampart of Europe against Asia, an outpost of civilization as opposed to barbarism. We should, as a neutral state, remain in contact with all of Europe, which would have to guarantee our existence. The sanctuaries of Christendom would be safeguarded by assigning them an extra-territorial status, as is well known in international law." Even the content of the Balfour Declaration aligns with this, as it asserts that in Palestine there are only non-Jewish communities.
If one adds the component of having "a professional army, equipped, of course, with every requisite of modern warfare, to preserve order internally and externally," as outlined in "The Jewish State," to the mix of Zionist jingoism and superiority, fighting against Asian (i.e., Islamic or Muslim) barbarism, and defending the interests and values of the West, one then creates a recipe for not only regional but also global disaster.
Einstein must have known all this. He also must have known that if a person steps into mud, no matter how careful he might be, some of it will cling to him. His version of cultural and humanitarian Zionism, hoping to supersede and perhaps even cancel out the undesirable aspects of its political and nationalistic counterpart, was like swimming against the current or speaking to the dead.
To make things worse, Einstein never stopped idolizing Herzl, calling him a far-sighted and unforgettable man, the one standing above the rest. He was even a member of a Jewish elite that proposed, for the twenty-fifth anniversary of Herzl's death, that a monument should be dedicated to the father of Zionism. The proposal was made in the form of a letter to the Jewish public titled "A Memorial for Theodor Herzl."
Einstein undeniably retained moral courage in the face of the indifference of nationalistic Zionism, which promoted its own chauvinistic agendas. But his efforts and utopian visions did not succeed and ultimately proved futile and ineffective. It is clear that he was used, and his legendary name and fame were employed as marketing tools and a galvanizing pivot of support. Morally speaking, he should have been more explicit in criticizing the newly created state of Israel and should have disengaged himself from its increasingly harmful policies. His relationship with the first president of Israel, Chaim Azriel Weizmann-whom Zionists wanted to be succeeded by Einstein-is generally described as respectful but complex. Einstein was discreet and diplomatic, focusing more on indirect criticism of ideas rather than concrete programs and individuals.
This means that Einstein's Jewishness manifested itself neither through religion nor radical nationalism, but through the middle path of cultural identity, ethical traditions, and historical connectivity. That being said, it is generally agreed that the traditional Jewish religious view, representing authentic Judaism and the bona fide interests of the Jewish people, is that Jews are not allowed to forcibly reclaim the land of Israel until divinely permitted. For them, exile is divinely ordained, and living peacefully in diaspora until the coming of the Messiah is their providential lot.
Otherwise stated, establishing the state of Israel in modern times was illegal and anti-Jewish. Such philosophy prevailed until the emergence of secular Zionism, which was grounded on chauvinistic tenets and the quest for Jewish statehood. It sought to redefine Jewish identity, collective Jewish consciousness, and aspirations.
This unmistakably demonstrates that Zionism has nothing to do with Palestine. It is a newly concocted anti-Jewish ideology that, while misusing the name of Judaism, attempts to seize Palestinian land and steadily mistreat, forcibly displace, and exterminate the local Palestinian population. It has hijacked the religious, cultural, and historical legacy of Jews, casting it in a new anti-humanity - including anti-Jewish - mold. It is a scourge from which more and more Jews are dissociating each day, especially during the current Gaza catastrophe, during which Zionism revealed to the world the true nature of its monstrous ideology and system.
Einstein should have foreseen at least the dormant causes within Zionism that were set to bring about the looming tragedies. By constantly connecting himself to Zionism and insisting that he is "a strong devotee of the Zionist idea" - as he did in a letter to Professor Willy Hellpach, Minister of State in Baden, Germany - Einstein is not entirely blameless.
He and his legacy remained partially tainted by the perennial evil of Zionism, if nothing else, by association. No matter how much he tried to frame his Zionist membership with the slogans of cultural and humanitarian Zionism, Einstein was and remained an avid Zionist, which is bad in itself. One certainly cannot walk through chaos and expect to emerge untouched. Hence, many of Einstein's detractors, including the abovementioned Professor Willy Hellpach, could not see the difference in the supposed categorization of Zionism, claiming that despite everything, Einstein was a nationalist like everyone else in the Zionist circles.
We nevertheless contend that Einstein did not embody nationalism in its conventional form. Yet, his Zionist affiliation implicated him in its ideological entanglements, leaving him vulnerable to collateral condemnation-a contagion of blame born of association.