From Micha K. Ben-David, a former IDF soldier and the co-founder of Breaking the Silence. This is a response to the violent attack on the pro-Israel demonstration in Boulder, CO yesterday. Re-posted from Ben-David’s Facebook account.

Please. Yeah. I’m pissed.

Because the Israel Lobby, the Zionist communities, and whoever else has their PR hands in this, are already spinning what happened in Boulder into some textbook case of antisemitism. And I hate to say it—but this wasn’t that. Not even close.

I’ve lived in the U.S. for a few years now. I’ve seen real antisemitism—actual swastika-drawing, conspiracy-spewing, neo-Nazi, Christian nationalist, white supremacist hate. The everyday kind that shows up at city halls and school boards, the kind that attacks synagogues and fuels mass shootings. And yeah—it scares the shit out of me. Not just as a Jew. As a human.

But that kind of hate doesn’t come from the Palestinian movement. It doesn’t come from Muslims. And it doesn’t only come for Jews. It hits everyone—Black communities, immigrants, queer folks, anyone who doesn’t fit inside some twisted white fantasy of who deserves to exist.

So no, what happened in Boulder was not that.

I’ve seen that march. Every Sunday, up and down Pearl Street. I’ve watched them defend the un-defendable. I’ve seen the signs that ask people to look away from a genocide, to doubt their own eyes, to stay silent—not just in passive complicity, but in loud, moral support of mass death. It’s not subtle. It’s not peaceful. It’s not neutral.

And I say this as an Israeli. I know how these people think. Like it or not- these are my people. I know how deep the fear and trauma runs—and I know how violently it gets projected outward. We don’t see what’s wrong because the narrative has always told us we’re right. But people don’t hate the march because it’s Jewish. They hate it because it’s gaslighting an entire city. Because it’s telling people that the massacre happening in Gaza right now is justified, necessary, even holy.

Let’s be honest. What’s happening back home is a horror show—not just in its scale, but in its cruelty. Whole families, cities, dreams erased. And criticizing that isn’t antisemitic. It’s human.

Yes, October was terrifying. The trauma of that day is real. But what’s come out of it—from parts of the Jewish nation, the Zionist core of it—has been the most vengeful, biblical cruelty I’ve ever seen. Entire communities flattened, children starved, water shut off. And we do it with the full support of the Christian nationalist, white supremacist leadership of the U.S.

AIPAC? That’s the tip of the iceberg. Christian Zionism is the iceberg. And it is dragging us all down.

And I need to say this, too: this could have been avoided. We asked. We showed up. We begged this city—this leadership—to stand for de-escalation. For a ceasefire. For compassion. For justice. For a chance to choose something other than war contracts and PR statements.

And what did they do?

The Boulder City Council let hate shut down the room—and then turned around and expelled the very people pleading for peace. The ones who stood, alone, in front of a row of comfortable, white, upper-middle-class cowards in business casual. And surprise: the only one who dared to speak the truth was the one woman of color on that panel—Taishya. Funny how that works.

Shame on this council. Shame on Joe Neguse, whose largest donor is AIPAC. Shame on every so-called leader who had a chance to de-escalate, and chose silence instead. Shame on the systems that feed this.

So no, don’t let the folks from that march tell you this was antisemitic. It was violence, yes. And I won’t glorify it. But let’s not pretend it was unprovoked.Violence begets violence. When people go marching week after week to defend a military slaughter, they should expect resistance.

And in contrast, I am in awe—deeply grateful—for the Palestinian movement. For how incredibly non-violent it continues to be, even in the face of complete devastation. It may be the most non-violent global resistance movement in a generation. It humbles me.

We Jews of conscience have a responsibility to defy this absurd narrative of victimhood we’ve built around ourselves. We have to name what’s happening in our name. And we have to get honest about our place in all this.

Because the truth is—I am not Black, or Indigenous, or Brown. I am not queer, or disabled, or undocumented. I hold three passports. I pass for white. I’ve never had a door closed in my face because of who I am.

And that’s exactly why I know: I am strongest when I stand with those who do face that. That’s where my allies are. That’s where my humanity lives.

I’d rather be a minority among minorities—linked by love, by struggle, by the absolute refusal to dehumanize—than be a controlling, racist, hateful coward who can’t take a hint.

The whole world wants the best for everyone. Us too.

They know they fucked up. Now it’s our turn to admit: we fucked up too.