But until recently, I hadn’t fully grasped how Russia is once again using antisemitism—not merely as a prejudice of the past, but as a deliberate ideological weapon in the present .. happening in Vladimir Putin’s Russia.
By Dr. Tim Orr
Suppose you’ve followed my blog for any length. In that case, you’ll know that I bring a particular depth of insight into Islamic antisemitism—something shaped not just by academic study but by personal experience. That insight deepened profoundly on October 7th, when I was in London and witnessed firsthand the alarming rise of antisemitism, not just in isolated protests but woven deeply into the cultural and political fabric of Europe, especially in the UK. That experience changed me.
I’ve long been aware of Russia’s deep history of antisemitism—how it shaped Jewish life under the Czars and how it was institutionalized under the Soviets. Like many, I first encountered that history in the infamous book The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, a fabricated text that has endured as a grotesque symbol of antisemitic conspiracy thinking. But until recently, I hadn’t fully grasped how Russia is once again using antisemitism—not merely as a prejudice of the past, but as a deliberate ideological weapon in the present.
It’s rare to witness history fold in on itself so brazenly, but that’s precisely what’s happening in Vladimir Putin’s Russia. I recently listened to a sobering and illuminating lecture titled “Back to the Origins of Antisemitism: Attitudes Towards Jews and Israel in Contemporary Russia,” delivered by Yaron Gamburg for the Institute for the Study of Contemporary Antisemitism (ISCA) at Indiana University. I couldn’t help but feel like past patterns were resurfacing in full force—only with digital tools, global reach, and the unashamed stamp of the state.
Gamburg, a seasoned Israeli diplomat with deep expertise in Russian affairs, made one thing painfully clear: the return of antisemitism in Russia is not merely a social regression; it is a calculated, deliberate, and strategic move by the Kremlin. The ghosts of Tsarist pogroms and Stalinist purges are not just memories—they are now tools in the arsenal of a regime that has mastered the art of disinformation and scapegoating. What struck me was how Gamburg peeled back the layers to expose the what, the how, and the why. And that’s what makes his insights so urgent.
Gamburg began with a jarring juxtaposition: in 2016, Putin invited Jews from Europe to make Russia their home, offering the country as a haven in a Europe supposedly sinking into antisemitism. Yet just six years later, in 2022, Chief Rabbi of Moscow, Pinchas Goldschmidt, urged Russian Jews to flee, warning that the Russian regime, facing military embarrassment and economic strain, would soon need scapegoats. He was right. Gamburg recounted how antisemitism has since been “normalized at a speed unimaginable,” becoming not just tolerated but actively endorsed at the highest levels of power.
How did the pendulum swing so violently? The answer lies not in a societal shift from below but in a top-down instrumentalization of antisemitism. As Gamburg laid out, antisemitism today in Russia is no longer accidental or fringe—it is strategic, calibrated, and deployed with chilling precision across three primary domains: foreign influence, historical revisionism, and domestic repression.
The Kremlin’s propaganda machine has long relied on demonization by association. As Russia invaded Ukraine, it painted the Ukrainian government—led, ironically, by a Jewish president—as a neo-Nazi regime. Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov even suggested that Zelensky, a Jew, was “a pure Nazi” and a “traitor to the Jewish people.” Incredibly, Lavrov also claimed Hitler had Jewish blood, grotesque recycling of old conspiracies designed to invert history and repurpose Holocaust imagery to serve Russian geopolitical goals.
It’s not just rhetorical sleight of hand. Russia has systematically turned the memory of the Holocaust itself into a political weapon. Gamburg explained how the Kremlin now claims that Ukrainians, not Germans, were the true perpetrators of the Holocaust. This audacious distortion simultaneously undermines Jewish historical suffering and vilifies Russia’s enemies. In doing so, Russia co-opts Jewish tragedy to wage political war—cynically using Jewish memory to promote antisemitic tropes.
And then there’s the deeper irony. In 2005, Russia supported the UN’s establishment of International Holocaust Remembrance Day. Yet in Russia today, January 27 is not even recognized as an official national memorial day. Holocaust education has shriveled, and commemoration is confined almost entirely to Jewish communities—no longer treated as a national moral obligation but a niche ethnic memory. Gamburg noted that the Russian government justifies this by claiming it cannot single out one group’s suffering—a classic rhetorical move to erase specificity and avoid responsibility.
But perhaps most troubling is the way antisemitism has boomeranged back onto Russian soil. Initially, antisemitic rhetoric was aimed outward—at Ukraine, at the West. But as Russia’s military fortunes in Ukraine worsened and internal political dissent simmered, the regime turned its gaze inward. Prominent Jews were targeted. Putin began mocking Jewish Russians like Anatoly Chubais, suggesting their ethnic identity made them disloyal. Dissident poet Zhenya Berkovich and others were singled out for punishment, and their Jewishness was emphasized by pro-Kremlin media—a not-so-subtle dog whistle.
The clearest sign of the danger came in October 2023, when pogrom-style antisemitic riots erupted in Dagestan and the North Caucasus. Mobs stormed hotels and even airports, searching for Jews arriving from Tel Aviv. A synagogue was set ablaze. It was a horrifying echo of Tsarist-era violence, now reborn in the digital age. And what was the Kremlin’s response? Not condemnation—but conspiracy. Putin blamed Western intelligence services for provoking the unrest, a disinformation tactic straight out of the KGB playbook.
As Gamburg emphasized, this was not a spontaneous explosion of ethnic hatred—it was a state-curated atmosphere of antisemitism seeded by years of rhetoric and propaganda.
One of the most poignant parts of Gamburg’s talk was his reflection on the Chabad movement’s dilemma. Chabad in Russia, having been granted freedom and prominence by the Kremlin in exchange for loyalty, has remained conspicuously silent in the face of rising antisemitism and war crimes. In contrast, Chabad leaders in Ukraine have openly supported the Ukrainian government. The resulting rift has created a moral crisis for the movement. What happens when a religious community trades a prophetic voice for political favor?
Gamburg did not accuse Chabad of complicity, but his critique was clear: proximity to authoritarian power exacts a spiritual cost. The movement’s silence, he said, “casts doubt on its ability to counter antisemitism in Russia effectively.”
What struck me most as a scholar was how Russia has dusted off Soviet antisemitic tactics and updated them for the 21st century. Gamburg drew compelling parallels between Cold War disinformation campaigns and today’s Kremlin operations. Soviet programs like Operation SIG, which spread antisemitic materials across the Arab world, have been reborn through social media, bot farms, and online influence networks.
Gamburg noted reports of Russian intelligence painting Stars of David on buildings in Paris, mirroring old KGB tactics meant to incite ethnic violence and destabilize the West. In U.S. campus protests over Gaza, Russian bots have amplified anti-Israel narratives, weaponizing legitimate student activism for global manipulation. These aren’t isolated incidents—they are part of a broader “re-Sovietization” of Russian foreign policy, where antisemitism is once again a core feature of Kremlin strategy.
Perhaps the most haunting observation in the lecture came toward the end when Gamburg described the present reality as “antisemitism without Jews.” With Jewish emigration accelerating and the community shrinking, Russia’s Jews are disappearing—not physically persecuted en masse, but slowly pushed out by fear and exclusion. And yet, antisemitism persists—not because Jews are present, but because the idea of the Jew still serves the state’s needs.
This echoes a deeper historical pattern. The same dynamic was true in parts of Eastern Europe after the Holocaust: the Jew became a symbol, a repository for national grievances, anxieties, and conspiracies—even in absence.
Gamburg’s lecture was more than a diagnosis of Russia’s antisemitism; it was a mirror held up to the rest of us. It reminds us that antisemitism is a resilient parasite—capable of attaching itself to whatever ideological host is available. It can wear the mask of anti-fascism or anti-imperialism. It can emerge from the right or the left. And it doesn’t need a large Jewish population to thrive—it only needs a regime willing to mobilize hatred for power.
In a world increasingly susceptible to disinformation, polarization, and moral ambiguity, we must be vigilant—not just about what is said, but about why and when it is said and whom it serves. Russia’s antisemitism isn’t just a warning about Russia. It’s a warning about what any society becomes when the truth is optional and enemies are invented.
The ghosts of Russia’s past are not merely haunting its future but shaping it.
Yaron Gamburg, “Back to the Origins of Antisemitism: Attitudes Towards Jews and Israel in Contemporary Russia,” online lecture hosted by the Institute for the Study of Contemporary Antisemitism (ISCA), Indiana University, March 9, 2025.
Dr. Tim Orr serves full-time with Crescent Project as the assistant director of the internship program and area coordinator, where he is also deeply involved in outreach across the UK. A scholar of Islam, Evangelical minister, conference speaker, and interfaith consultant, Tim brings over 30 years of experience in cross-cultural ministry. He holds six academic degrees, including a Doctor of Ministry from Liberty University and a Master’s in Islamic Studies from the Islamic College in London.
In addition to his ministry work, Tim is a research associate with the Congregations and Polarization Project at the Center for the Study of Religion and American Culture at Indiana University Indianapolis. His research interests include Islamic antisemitism, American Evangelicalism, and Islamic feminism. He has spoken at leading universities and mosques throughout the UK—including Oxford University, Imperial College London, and the University of Tehran—and has published widely in peer-reviewed Islamic academic journals. Tim is also the author of four books.