I’m an Arab Muslim — I still don’t understand the antisemitic BDS movement

I’m an Arab Muslim — I still don’t understand the antisemitic BDS movement

I m an Arab Muslim - As an Arab Muslim, I’ve long grappled with the BDS movement, which seeks to isolate Israel through boycotts, divestments, and sanctions. Despite years of inquiry, I remain puzzled by its core philosophy. While I comprehend the justified anger toward Israel’s policies and the suffering endured by Palestinians, I struggle to reconcile how the BDS movement persists in promoting a vision that seems to reject the very benefits Israel provides to the Arab world.

The movement’s message is clear: to achieve justice, people must boycott all Israeli goods and institutions. Yet, this approach feels overly rigid, as if it demands the abandonment of everything that sustains daily life. For instance, one might refuse to eat Israeli hummus or decline to collaborate with Israeli academics, but the same individuals often continue using technology, transportation, or medical care developed by Israeli innovation. This inconsistency has always struck me as a contradiction that the movement avoids addressing directly.

Let’s consider the reality of fully embracing a boycott. If the movement were truly committed, its adherents would have to eliminate not just Israeli products, but also the infrastructure that supports modern existence. From smartphones to cars, from healthcare to agriculture, so much of our dependence on Israeli advancements would be severed. Yet, I’ve yet to see anyone in the BDS movement live by this ideal. Their actions are selective, focused on symbolic gestures rather than comprehensive change.

Boycott as a Performance

It’s easy to see why the movement gains traction — it offers a simple, visual form of protest. However, this simplicity masks a deeper issue. The BDS framework demands that people reject the very things that enhance their lives, often without acknowledging the broader implications. As one activist once told me, "We don’t just boycott Israel; we boycott its progress." But when does a boycott become a performance, and when does it transform into a principle?

There’s an uncomfortable truth that BDS often overlooks: to genuinely cut Israel out of one’s life would require a fundamental shift in how people live. Medicine, safety, food, and communication would all be sacrificed. This is not just a political stance — it’s a lifestyle choice. And yet, many who champion the movement do not live by it. Instead, they use it as a tool for visibility, bypassing the real cost of their ideals.

"To genuinely cut Israel out of your life is to cut out medicine, safety, food and communication."

This truth is hard to ignore. When we boycott Israeli products, we’re not just opposing a state — we’re rejecting the innovations that have made life more convenient and safer for millions. The movement’s rhetoric, while powerful, often fails to recognize that the same Israeli technologies that provide medical treatments also power the economies of our own countries. To deny all of that is to deny the complexity of human progress.

The BDS movement’s goal is to isolate Israel, but in doing so, it isolates the Arab world from the benefits of modernity. It asks us to reject the irrigation systems that sustain our crops, the medicines that cure our ailments, and the technology that creates jobs for our youth — all because of where these innovations originated. This is a selective form of resistance that prioritizes symbolism over substance.

A Different Path: The Abraham Accords

Since the Abraham Accords, I’ve witnessed a shift in attitudes. Israelis and Arabs are now engaging in trade, culture, and cooperation in ways that were once unthinkable. I’ve met people who see peace not as an enemy, but as a shared goal. They don’t want to live in isolation; they want to build a future where mutual respect and collaboration thrive.

This new reality challenges the BDS narrative. It shows that the Arab world is not monolithic in its opposition to Israel. While some cling to outdated slogans, others recognize the value of pragmatic partnerships. The movement, however, insists on a binary choice: either fully support Israel or completely oppose it. This is where the conflict lies. It reduces a complex issue to a black-and-white stance, ignoring the nuances of reconciliation.

For years, the Arab world has been caught in a cycle of resentment, often without clear direction. The Muslim Brotherhood, for example, has been a driving force behind modern Islamist extremism, spreading chaos from Sudan to Europe. Yet, the BDS movement continues to align itself with such groups, ignoring their role in undermining progress. This connection is troubling, as it suggests a deeper ideological link to anti-Semitism and a rejection of shared achievements.

If we are to follow the BDS movement’s lead, we must ask ourselves: what are we truly sacrificing? Do we want to live without the comforts of modern technology or without the freedom to choose what benefits us? I’ve chosen to support the Abraham Accords, not because I dismiss the pain of the Palestinian people, but because I believe in a more inclusive path. Peace, after all, is not a compromise — it is a necessity.

So, let’s not shy away from the truth. If you truly believe in the BDS movement, then be prepared to abandon the tools of your daily life. Give up your phone, your car, your medicine, and your internet — and then we can talk about justice in earnest. Until then, the movement’s message remains selective, and its impact on our own people is more about division than unity.

For the Arab and Muslim communities, the real victory lies in the ability to embrace what is good, regardless of its origin. The BDS movement asks us to do the opposite — to reject progress out of prejudice. That is the wound it leaves, and it is a wound I believe we can heal by choosing a more balanced approach to justice and coexistence.