In today’s political discourse—especially surrounding Israel and Palestine—we’re living through a kind of epistemic collapse. Truth is slippery, allegiance is performative, and ideological positions often exist in ambiguous states. This is the realm of Schrödinger’s Candidates and Schrödinger’s Facts, where public figures and political claims seem to exist in multiple, even contradictory, states—until “observed,” interpreted, or framed through a particular ideological lens. Once that observation happens, the truth collapses into something definitive, but not always accurate. This framework is particularly useful for unpacking the messiness of voices like Jimmy Dore, ContraPoints, The Greyzone, Donald Trump, Zohran Mamdani, John Fetterman, the Squad, the DSA, and even neo-Nazis as they engage with Zionism, anti-Zionism, and the crisis in Palestine.
Jimmy Dore is a perfect example of a Schrödinger’s Candidate. Depending on the lens of the viewer, he is either a brave truth-teller advocating for Palestine or a right-wing grifter co-opting leftist language to manipulate disillusioned audiences. He claims to be pro-Palestine and anti-Zionist, and yet he frequently praises right-wing populists, invites reactionary figures onto his platform, and spends most of his energy attacking progressives and Democrats rather than challenging actual state violence or structural oppression. Dore’s “anti-Zionism” often feels more aesthetic than substantive—he critiques Israel, but rarely builds solidarity or advances deeper understanding. His rhetoric flirts with conspiracy and shares terrain with far-right narratives, making it difficult to distinguish between legitimate critique and opportunistic outrage. Until you decide how to interpret him, he remains both—and neither.
ContraPoints, in her recent comments on Israel and Palestine, also embodies a kind of ideological duality. She publicly expressed sorrow for Palestinian suffering and criticized the brutality of war, but focused her post primarily on condemning the tone and tactics of the pro-Palestine left. She didn’t defend Israeli policy directly, but she framed anti-Zionist discourse as alienating, extreme, or emotionally manipulative. In doing so, she placed herself within liberal Zionism—treating Zionism as a personal identity worth protecting, while implying that the greater moral threat might lie with those who criticize it too bluntly. What, then, is ContraPoints? A progressive attempting nuance, or a liberal reinforcing the very ideologies that perpetuate injustice? Again, the answer depends on interpretation. Her words collapse into coherence only when seen through the lens of the observer’s politics.
Then there’s The Greyzone, a platform that postures as anti-imperialist and pro-justice, but whose reporting often mirrors authoritarian narratives. They criticize Zionism—but mainly as a tool to prop up regimes like Syria, Russia, or China by deflecting attention from their own crimes. They support Palestine—but often only in the context of bashing the U.S. or NATO, rarely focusing on grassroots Palestinian resistance. The Greyzone’s brand of anti-Zionism is less about liberation and more about geopolitics. They perform anti-Zionism while defending authoritarianism, framing Western liberalism as the greater evil. Their ideological position shifts constantly, depending on who their target is. Once again, they exist in multiple states until observed.
Most dangerously, this logic is exploited by neo-Nazis and far-right figures who use anti-Zionist language to launder antisemitic beliefs. They claim to stand against Zionism, but only as a proxy for “Jewish control” conspiracies. They infiltrate leftist and activist spaces, muddying the water so that principled pro-Palestinian advocacy becomes tainted by association. In their hands, anti-Zionist slogans are twisted into racist code, making it harder to distinguish genuine solidarity from fascist manipulation. They are the ultimate provocateurs—amplifying militant rhetoric to radicalize everyone else, from Zionists to leftists, and feeding a cycle of escalation. Their ability to weaponize ambiguity is part of what makes them so effective.
Donald Trump, despite emboldening far-right antisemites and white nationalists, consistently positioned himself as one of the most pro-Israel presidents in modern history. His administration enabled unprecedented levels of support for Israel’s right-wing government, including moving the U.S. embassy to Jerusalem, recognizing Israeli sovereignty over the Golan Heights, and cutting aid to Palestinian humanitarian programs. At the same time, Trump occasionally sent signals that appeared to complicate that narrative. He has questioned the loyalty of American Jews who vote Democrat, criticized Netanyahu for congratulating Biden after the 2020 election, and, in earlier years, claimed he would be a “neutral” arbiter in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. These contradictory gestures created a double image: to hardline supporters, he was the most Zionist U.S. president ever; to others, especially among the far right and conspiracy theorists, he was suspicious of Israel’s influence and sympathetic to “America First” sentiments that could be read as distancing from Israeli interests. In Trump, Zionism and antisemitism were not contradictions—they were simultaneous political tools. This, too, is Schrödinger’s logic: Trump was both pro-Israel and anti-Israel, depending on who was watching and when.
Figures like Zohran Mamdani, John Fetterman, and even members of the Squad reflect another layer of confusion. Mamdani projects leftist aesthetics and has a record of progressive language, yet many of his positions and affiliations—especially his ties to Democratic Party machinery and lack of substantive policy breakthroughs—raise questions about how far his anti-Zionism really goes. Fetterman is even more visibly contradictory: embracing progressive economic policies while aligning himself with hardline pro-Israel stances, to the extent of mocking pro-Palestinian protesters. The Squad, meanwhile, offers another paradox. Some members courageously denounce Israeli policy, while others vote in line with party leadership or issue vague statements, allowing them to appear principled without rocking the boat. The Democratic Socialists of America (DSA) endorsed several of these figures while walking a tightrope on Palestine, at times condemning Israeli apartheid, at other times backing candidates who refuse to use that language. What are these actors, then? Principled critics or political chameleons? Schrödinger’s Candidates, again.
The result of all this is confusion, paralysis, and burnout. When everyone is simultaneously “for” and “against” the same things—when Zionism is both a cultural identity and a settler-colonial project, when criticism of Israel is both resistance and antisemitism depending on who says it—people check out. The discourse becomes a minefield, where no one knows who to trust or what’s real. Even genuine anti-Zionists can be misled by the loudest, most militant voices—some of whom are grifters, others actual fascists in disguise. Truth, in this environment, becomes less about material conditions and more about perception. That’s exactly the point. Incoherence protects power.
This state of perpetual ambiguity benefits the entrenched system. The Israeli government, U.S. foreign policy, and right-wing nationalists all profit when leftist movements are consumed by infighting and ideological chaos. When figures like Jimmy Dore or The Greyzone dominate the conversation with provocations, it makes it harder for real conversations to happen. When ContraPoints centers her discomfort over others’ rage, it shifts the attention away from bombs and displacement and toward tone and etiquette. When Mamdani, Fetterman, the Squad, or the DSA speak out of both sides of their mouths, it reassures moderates while demoralizing principled activists. Meanwhile, the status quo continues—uninterrupted and unaccountable.
So what is to be done in this climate of confusion? We have to collapse the waveform—but on our terms. That means refusing to let public figures define themselves solely through performance. It means scrutinizing the motives and effects of political speech, not just its content. It means distinguishing between principled anti-Zionism rooted in solidarity, and anti-Zionism used as a cloak for clout-chasing or bigotry. And it means being vigilant about how quickly complexity gets flattened into performance—how nuance is drowned out by aesthetics, how politics becomes branding.
We need clarity—not the illusion of clarity offered by easy binaries, but a clarity rooted in political education, in real analysis, and in material solidarity. We need to stop mistaking performative anti-Zionism for real resistance, and we need to reject the idea that Zionism, like any ideology, is too sacred or too evil to analyze critically. This is the only way to move forward. Because as long as the loudest voices continue to define the narrative, the rest of us will be stuck sorting through Schrödinger’s contradictions—while people continue to suffer.