In organizing and activist circles, most roll their eyes when calls for dialogue arise — especially when the dialogue is on Israel and Palestine. Too often, when students voice their grief and anger at the injustices around them, those who barely listen are quick to say, “Why can’t we all just get along?” or “We must learn to disagree civilly.” As a Jewish anti-Zionist who (most of the time) enjoys engaging with Zionists, I have seen firsthand the transformative power of conversation. But I am not here as a neutral observer or a cautious university representative advising that we “talk to one another.” Genuine dialogue cannot be reduced to the easiest, most vacuous statement. It demands active pursuit, it may upset donors and it requires uncomfortable reconciliation; most of all, it hinges on the trust of all students that their voices are heard — not dismissed in service of abstract notions of civility that accomplish little in practice. 

I write, asking students on both sides of the conflict to pursue open conversation handled with sensitivity and care. I also ask the university to put their money where their mouth is and create the spaces required to have difficult conversations.

Before beginning, it is important to clarify what counts as “civil dialogue”: justifying Israel’s genocidal actions in Gaza is uncivil. You might disagree on calling the Israeli Defense Force (IDF)’s actions genocide or war crimes. But just as we do not frame dialogue around those who support Russia’s invasion of Ukraine or defend the CCP’s treatment of Uyghurs in Xinjiang, students can only engage in conversation where all parties believe in the universal right to life and acknowledge that civilian deaths can never be justified. The same holds true for those who defend Hamas’ actions on Oct. 7. Even if intentions are sincere, productive conversations must begin with shared values to ground the discussion and frame our disagreements.

In discussions of Zionism and anti-Zionism, it is important to clarify definitions. Some critics say activists should abandon these terms because they cause more confusion and vitriol than clarity. This is partly true; but only because of the way both learn about their respective ideology from a singular perspective. I believe, however, that illuminating the complexities of these terms and the world views behind them are the key to understanding the hundred years long conflict. 

To that end, I have developed a framework of four understandings of Zionism and anti-Zionism to clarify the beliefs I am referencing. 

Zionism and Anti-Zionism Definition Cheatsheet

Category of Understanding	Understanding of Zionism	Understanding of anti-Zionism
Jewish Zionist*	Zionism is the movement for Jewish liberation, security and self-determination in the form of a Jewish state of Israel.	Anti-Zionism denies the Jewish people the right to self-determination; arguably a form of antisemitism.
Palestinian anti-Zionist*	Zionism is the settler-colonial project responsible for the Nakba and the apartheid regime enforcing its effects today.	Anti-Zionism is an anti-colonial movement advocating for the right of Palestinians to return to their land.
Critical Zionist	Example: I acknowledge how Zionism in practice has unjustly displaced Palestinians; I still advocate for a Jewish state and the creation of a Palestinian state in the West Bank.
Critical anti-Zionist	Example: I acknowledge that Jewish people have a strong historic tie to the land of Israel/Palestine and have a right to live there; I believe a one state, multi-ethnic and multi-religious constitutional democracy is the best solution for freedom and security for Palestinians and Jews

*These terms do not mean that Jews or Palestinians necessarily hold these views; rather, they are informed by the lived experiences and historical perspectives of Jewish and Palestinian communities.

Of course, each has more complexity, but together they show how Zionism and anti-Zionism are not just one thing; in fact, I believe that although we should recognize all people’s beliefs, a critical perspective is required to fully understand the conflict. 

As a child in Jewish Sunday school, I was taught that Israel was a place I could always call home. Later, Israel was portrayed as a nation under constant threat, hated for no reason other than antisemitism. We were never taught about Palestinians — their history or what Israel’s establishment meant for them. As my politics developed around collective liberation and opposition to systemic oppression, my worldview naturally came into conflict with my early Zionist education. It is genuinely difficult for people to encounter and process opposing perspectives because most of us are socialized within a single narrative.

Zionists and anti-Zionists alike have much to gain from genuine dialogue. Fear often stems from misunderstanding, including the heightened insecurity that many Jewish — primarily Zionist — students have felt on campuses since Oct. 7. I do not wish to dismiss or delegitimize those feelings, nor to blame anyone for experiencing them. Rising antisemitism is a real and serious threat. Yet when slogans like “Free Palestine” or “From the River to the Sea” are interpreted as expressions of antisemitism rather than calls for liberation, it becomes clear why many Zionist Jews have asked me whether I feel safe as a Jew on campus. 

But miscommunication is not one-sided. In my experience, anti-Zionists have not always expressed their perspectives in ways that reach those who disagree. The use of radical rhetoric — for instance, when students chant “intifada, revolution” — often rallies supporters but alienates those they might seek to convince.

The Palestinian movement on campus grows stronger when activism makes space for diverse, constructive strategies. Both sides should seek genuine openness — truly striving to understand one’s opponent — allowing us not only to craft more persuasive arguments but also to disarm the fear and defensiveness that so often block understanding. Dialogue is not about softening one’s politics; it is about communicating them in ways that open minds rather than close doors.

Of course, simply telling Zionists and anti-Zionists to “talk to each other” is not a real solution. Structural and cultural barriers make productive dialogue difficult. Most students are not taught to have these conversations or how to establish trust and norms to make them possible. If universities are serious about their commitments to inclusion, education and free inquiry, they must create intentional spaces where conversations about Zionism and anti-Zionism can occur with structure, facilitation and emotional safety. This means investing in dialogue programs led by people who understand the historical and personal weight of this conflict, not just generic civility workshops which are unequipped to handle this topic. 

Institutions like Hillel also must play a role in encouraging open conversation, though this remains complicated by their national guidelines which prohibit cooperation with anti-Zionist groups. Despite Hillel’s stated commitment to inclusivity and “welcoming every kind of Jew,” Zionism remains the only acceptable stance on Israel. Those who dissent are left feeling marginalized or excluded from the community. This exclusion is partly why Stanford’s Jewish Voice for Peace (JVP) chapter exists: to provide a home for Jews alienated by a narrow boundary of belonging. Still, as Stanford JVP’s Vice President of Outreach and Community, I welcome good faith opportunities to work with those in Hillel — to create spaces for dialogue grounded in mutual respect, honesty and a shared commitment to justice.

Dialogue is not a panacea, but it is a starting point. It cannot undo decades of violence, displacement or trauma — but it can begin to rebuild the trust and empathy others have eroded. Real dialogue requires more than polite disagreement; it demands courage, curiosity and an openness to moral discomfort. It asks us to listen not to confirm our convictions but to understand the experiences that formed someone else’s. We may not agree on what justice looks like in Israel and Palestine, but when we truly listen to each other, we take the first step towards a future neither side can reach alone.

Reid Smith ’28 is the Vice President of Outreach and Community for Stanford’s Jewish Voice for Peace chapter.