Psychoanalytic Insights into Palestinian Activism and the Apocalyptic Echoes in Western Discourse
Peshraw Mohammed
In the dynamic yet volatile landscape of Western political activism, pro-Palestinian movements have gained significant traction, evident in university encampments, cultural boycotts, passionate social media campaigns, and occasional disruptions of public events. These initiatives frame themselves as moral stands against colonial histories and ongoing oppression, frequently centering decolonization as a guiding narrative for addressing historical injustices. However, a psychoanalytic lens, informed by the theories of Sigmund Freud, Jacques Lacan, Melanie Klein, and Heinz Kohut, reveals deeper psychological currents—melancholy, paranoia, and schizophrenia—that drive this activism beyond mere solidarity. Rather than solely reflecting empathy or political conviction, these dynamics expose how personal and collective psychic wounds, rooted in the disenchantments of modern existence, are projected onto the Palestinian cause, making it a symbolic outlet for unresolved Western anxieties surrounding identity, guilt, and purpose.
Prior to my analysis, I wish to reference Israeli historian Shulamit Volkov’s thesis on “Antisemitism as a cultural code” to clarify that I am well aware of the antisemitic underpinnings of Palestinian activism, which I have extensively addressed in numerous articles, speeches, and events. Here, however, my focus will shift to another aspect. Volkov states:
‘The unique German culture emerging in the 1890s was expressed in the “German ideology”, to use Mosse’s terminology again, in a radical anti-modern mentality, rejecting Liberalism, Capitalism, and Socialism, in a nostalgic passion for a long-lost world. It implied a series of political views including an opposition to Democracy and a call for the re-establishment of a just and harmonious national community. It was associated with extreme Nationalism, a colonial and imperial drive, an enthusiasm for war and an advocacy of a pre-industrial moral code, all tinged with more than a trace of hypocrisy. In one way or another it was always combined with Antisemitism’(Volkov, p.68).
This analysis gains profound depth when intersected with postcolonial theory, a field that supposedly critiques the enduring power structures of colonialism but often veers into problematic territories. Particularly through the lens of thinkers like Ramón Grosfoguel, whose decolonial rhetoric often employs a language of existential crisis and moral absolutism, we observe unsettling resemblances to apocalyptic ideologies, including those articulated by Adolf Hitler in his infamous manifesto Mein Kampf. By exploring these intersections, we see how postcolonial frameworks, originally intended as tools of liberation and empowerment for the marginalized, can inadvertently amplify pathological expressions in activism. This fosters a pervasive language of apocalypse in Palestinian activism—characterized by dire warnings of global doom, binary moral battles, and calls for radical transformation—that echoes historical extremisms and risks escalating from advocacy to ideological fervor. Rather than dismissing these movements, this expanded exploration aims to unpack how such dynamics convert individual psychic distress into collective action, often hindering nuanced dialogue and perpetuating cycles of division. Through this lens, we can better understand the emotional drivers behind the intensity of Western engagement with Palestinian causes, while critically examining the rhetorical parallels that raise ethical concerns about the direction of contemporary activism.
Melancholy: Mourning the Ghosts of Empire
Sigmund Freud’s profound distinction between mourning and melancholia, as elucidated in his 1917 work Mourning and Melancholia, offers a penetrating philosophical framework for contemplating the emotional undercurrents of Western pro-Palestinian activism. Freud observes, “Mourning is regularly the reaction to the loss of a loved person, or to the loss of some abstraction which has taken the place of one, such as one’s country, liberty, an ideal, and so on” (Freud, 1917, p. 243). In the process of mourning, the soul gradually unshackles itself from the lost object, redirecting its affective energies toward new horizons, thereby weaving a tapestry of renewal and hope. Melancholia, by contrast, represents a deeper, more existential affliction, where “the loss is of a more ideal kind” and the soul struggles to acknowledge or relinquish it (Freud, 1917, p. 245). Rather than releasing the lost ideal, the ego absorbs it, resulting in “an extraordinary diminution in [the ego’s] self-regard, an impoverishment of his ego on a grand scale” (Freud, 1917, p. 246). This internalization foments a state of self-reproach, persistent discontent, and an inward-turning rage, giving rise to a profound spiritual void that resists the solace of resolution.
In the context of Western pro-Palestinian activism, this melancholia manifests not only as a response to distant geopolitical crises but as a deeper reaction to the erosion of progressive ideals within late-capitalist societies. Activists, often from privileged socioeconomic backgrounds in Europe or North America, grapple with a fractured self-image amid globalization, rising economic inequalities, and the weight of historical guilt over colonialism and imperialism. Freud’s observation that “in melancholia the relation to the object is no simple one; it is complicated by the conflict due to ambivalence” (Freud, 1917, p. 256) is particularly apt here. The ambivalence arises from a simultaneous idealization of progressive values—universal human rights, social equality, democratic progress—and disillusionment with their failure, as evidenced by systemic issues like wealth disparities, environmental collapse, and persistent racial injustices. Unable to fully mourn these “lost ideals,” activists displace their grief onto the Palestinian struggle, which becomes a surrogate for their existential voids—a pure symbol of resistance against the systems that have disillusioned them.
This melancholic undercurrent animates the fervor of pro-Palestinian activism, evident in movements such as the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions (BDS) campaign, university encampments that unsettle the rhythms of academic life, and the rapid, viral surges of social media mobilization. These acts embody a profound solidarity, yet they also reveal a melancholic absorption of Palestine as the quintessential “lost object.” As Freud observes, “The patient represents his ego to us as worthless, incapable of any achievement and morally despicable; he reproaches himself, vilifies himself and expects to be cast out and punished” (Freud, 1917, p. 246). Within the sphere of activism, this translates into a relentless self-scrutiny, where individuals castigate themselves for their perceived complicity in Western systems of oppression—be it through taxes that sustain military aid or cultural narratives that perpetuate reductive stereotypes. This introspection spirals into a dynamic of guilt and outwardly projected indignation. The Palestinian cause emerges as a beacon of heroic redemption, an idealized symbol of resistance, while the activists’ own cultural lineage is condemned as irrevocably stained by the legacies of colonialism, racism, and exploitation. This ambivalence engenders a state of psychic impoverishment, where the fervor of activism offers a fleeting sense of purpose and communal belonging, yet conceals an enduring inner void, forestalling any true reconciliation or wholeness.
Postcolonial theory amplifies this melancholic dynamic by framing Western identity as inherently colonial, resonating with the internalized loss. Ramón Grosfoguel, a key figure in decolonial studies, encapsulates this in his writings on the Gaza conflict: “Western capitalist modernity as a civilization of death has put humanity before a dilemma: we affirm life or we affirm the extermination of humanity. Palestine is a turning point” (Grosfoguel, 2024). This apocalyptic rhetoric mirrors the melancholic void, displacing personal and cultural losses onto a global narrative where Palestine symbolizes redemption or annihilation. Grosfoguel’s framing echoes Frantz Fanon’s earlier proto-postcolonial critique in The Wretched of the Earth (1961), where he argues, “The colonized subject will first train this aggressiveness sedimented in his muscles against his own people… The colonized man liberates himself in and through violence” (Fanon, 2004, p. 16, 44). In the context of Western activism, this aggression is internalized as guilt and redirected toward the Palestinian cause, which becomes a site for confronting the colonizer’s legacy within oneself.
Strikingly, Grosfoguel’s rhetoric bears parallels to Adolf Hitler’s millenarian visions in Mein Kampf: “If the Jew, with the help of his Marxist creed, triumphs over the peoples of this world, his crown will be the funeral wreath of humanity, and this planet will once again, as it did millions of years ago, drift through the ether devoid of human life” (Hitler, 1925). Both invoke a spiritual or ethical crisis, positioning their respective “enemies”—modernity for Grosfoguel, Jewish influence for Hitler—as existential threats requiring transformative action. While Grosfoguel’s intent is liberatory and Hitler’s genocidal, the shared apocalyptic tone reveals how melancholia can amplify grief into a call for world-altering justice, often at the cost of introspective healing. Another postcolonial voice, Edward Said, in a Radio Lecture (1993) talks about the the task is to speak the truth to power, even at the risk of ostracism or physical danger (Said, 1993). For Western activists, Palestine becomes the ultimate truth to speak, a cause that channels their melancholic rage against the imperial legacies of their own societies.
To illustrate further, consider the example of climate activism intersecting with pro-Palestinian movements. Groups like Extinction Rebellion have increasingly linked environmental justice to anti-colonial struggles, framing both as resistance to the “civilization of death” Grosfoguel describes. This convergence reflects Fredric Jameson’s notion of late capitalism’s commodification of dissent, where even radical causes are absorbed into a spectacle of protest, yet it also offers a space for collective mourning that Freud suggests is necessary for resolution. Another example is the proliferation of “decolonize” rhetoric in academic and activist spaces, where terms like “decolonize the curriculum” or “decolonize the mind” (drawn from Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o’s Decolonising the Mind, 1986) channel melancholic guilt into calls for systemic overhaul, often without clear pathways to resolution.
By integrating Freud’s psychological theories, we can understand how postcolonial perspectives from Grosfoguel, Fanon, Said, and Bhabha shape Western pro-Palestinian activism, revealing a intricate dynamic of mourning and melancholia. The Palestinian cause offers a powerful site for confronting personal and historical losses, yet its incorporation as a “lost object” risks perpetuating a cycle of guilt, rage, and unresolved grief. Jameson’s call for cognitive mapping suggests a path forward through critical awareness and collective action, but as Freud warns, “If the love for the object—a love which cannot be given up though the object itself is given up—takes refuge in narcissistic identification, then the hate comes into operation on this substitutive object” (Freud, 1917, p. 249). For activists, true resolution may require not only external resistance but an introspective reckoning with the ghosts of empire and capitalism that haunt their psyches.
Paranoia: Binary Worlds and Projected Enemies
‘Palestine will set us free’ – major slogan of the activism
Western pro-Palestinian activism often constructs rigid, binary frameworks that reflect deep psychological and ideological mechanisms. Drawing on psychoanalytic theories from Sigmund Freud, Jacques Lacan, Melanie Klein, and Heinz Kohut, trhough which highlighting postcolonial perspectives, this analysis explores how paranoia shapes activist narratives, particularly in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. These narratives manifest as Manichean struggles, where absolute moral clarity overshadows nuance, and internal anxieties are projected onto external enemies. The apocalyptic rhetoric of thinkers like Ramon Grosfoguel and the Nazi Führer Adolf Hitler further illuminates the totalizing nature of these frameworks, highlighting their role in perpetuating division and foreclosing reconciliation.
Freud’s foundational work on the psyche provides a starting point for understanding paranoia as a defense mechanism against existential anxieties. Freud viewed paranoia as a response to internal conflicts, where unacceptable impulses are projected outward to preserve the ego. Jacques Lacan builds on this, particularly in his exploration of psychosis, describing paranoia as a primary delusional mode rooted in identity pathology. In Seminar III: The Psychoses (1955-1956), Lacan writes:
‘Paranoia is distinguished from the others because it is characterized by the gradual development of internal causes and according to a progressive evolution of a stable delusional system that is impossible to disturb and establishes itself with total preservation of clarity and order in thought, will, and action’ (p.17).
For Lacan, the “Name-of-the-Father” – the symbolic authority anchoring reality – fails in paranoia, leading to the creation of elaborate narrative systems to compensate. In pro-Palestinian activism, this manifests in the rigid framing of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict as a stark dichotomy: Palestine as the pure, innocent victim and resistor, and Israel, along with Zionism, Jewish institutions, and Western allies like the United States, as the malevolent oppressor, synonymous with colonialism, apartheid, and genocide. This binary narrative resists contradiction, branding any criticism or moderation as complicity in oppression, thus silencing dissent and reinforcing a fortified ideological stance.
Melanie Klein’s object-relations theory deepens this analysis through her concept of the “paranoid-schizoid position,” a primitive developmental stage where overwhelming anxiety is managed through splitting. In Notes on Some Schizoid Mechanisms (1946), Klein explains that in the paranoid-schizoid position:
‘the infant splits the object and the self, but the effect of this phantasy is a very real one, because it leads to feelings and relations (and later on thought processes) being in fact cut off from one another’ (p.101).
In activism, this splitting is evident in the unyielding portrayal of Palestine as a symbol of moral righteousness and resistance, while Israel and its supporters are demonized as embodiments of evil. For example, campus protests often escalate into accusations of “Zionist infiltration” in university administrations, media, or governments, evoking a worldview where invisible threats lurk everywhere. This mirrors classic paranoid delusions, where pervasive yet intangible enemies dominate the narrative. By projecting negative qualities outward, activists safeguard an idealized “good” self, but this forestalls the integration of complex realities required for Klein’s “depressive position,” which embraces ambivalence and tolerates nuance.
Heinz Kohut’s self-psychology complements Lacan and Klein by interpreting activist behaviors as narcissistic defenses. In The Analysis of the Self (1971), Kohut explains that the narcissistically vulnerable person relies on “grandiose fantasies” to maintain self-cohesion and seeks “merging” with idealized figures to regulate self-esteem. Threats to this structure provoke “narcissistic rage” or avoidant withdrawal.
In pro-Palestinian activism, grandiose claims of moral superiority and ethical purity bolster underlying vulnerabilities. Activists merge with the idealized cause of Palestinian liberation, which provides purpose and shields against existential anxieties about identity and moral responsibility. Disagreement threatens this fragile self, leading to rage, dismissal, or withdrawal, as seen in the rejection of moderate voices or alternative perspectives labeled as betrayals. Social media algorithms exacerbate this dynamic, creating echo chambers where paranoid narratives thrive unchecked. For instance, online campaigns amplify slogans equating Zionism with global imperialism and Nazism or portraying Israel as the sole source of regional suffering, reinforcing the binary worldview through repetition and algorithmic validation.
Projection is a central mechanism in this paranoid framework. Activists externalize unresolved guilt—stemming from personal privileges, such as access to education and resources in affluent Western societies, or from historical Western atrocities like slavery, colonialism, and indigenous dispossession (They avoid addressing other non-Western atrocities, such as Islamic slavery, communist totalitarianism, and similar atrocities) – onto designated enemies. This transforms internal turmoil into perceptions of a vast global conspiracy, where universities, media, governments, and even fellow citizens are seen as infiltrated by Zionist influences or colonial apologists. This dynamic is particularly pronounced in academic settings, where the privilege of operating within elite institutions clashes with the moral imperative to reject Western systems of power. To reconcile this cognitive dissonance, activists project discomfort with their own privilege onto external enemies, framing institutions as inherently corrupt and in need of dismantling.
Postcolonial frameworks, such as those articulated by Ramon Grosfoguel, inject additional fuel into this paranoid worldview by essentializing global power dynamics into a conspiratorial struggle against an insidious Western evil. In Gaza: The Warsaw Ghetto of the 21st Century (2024), Grosfoguel writes:
‘In this spiritual moment in which we find ourselves as humanity, we must become ethically aware and decide on which side we position ourselves and where we wish to direct the future of humanity. Once again, the Promised Land cries out for justice and urges us to become better human beings. We must overcome individualistic modern egocentric subjectivity and become more merciful, supportive and community oriented human beings. Otherwise, we are heading to hell, that is, to the definitive destruction of life. Western capitalist modernity as a civilization of death has put humanity before a dilemma: we affirm life or we affirm the extermination of humanity. Palestine is a turning point. In Palestine, the future of humanity is at stake between the anti-imperialist forces of liberation that the prophets always announced and the imperialist powers of the Pharaohs, Emperors and Kings. Palestine is the focal point of anti-imperialist struggles today. The unipolar world of Western imperialism is in terminal crisis and in its decline it is becoming more violent and destructive. The freedom of Palestine will be a major defeat to Western imperialists forces and will support the struggle for the affirmation of life. The Palestinian victory will take humanity to a higher level of consciousness. Let’s do justice in Palestine to save humanity from the “phraoohs” of our times! From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free!!!’
This apocalyptic rhetoric aligns with the paranoid lens by framing resistance as an all-or-nothing battle, demanding unwavering allegiance to avoid catastrophic consequences. Similarly, Adolf Hitler’s rhetoric in Mein Kampf (1925) employs a comparable totalizing narrative:
‘In standing guard against the Jew I am defending the handiwork of the Lord.’
Both Grosfoguel and Hitler invoke existential threats to justify absolute moral stances, projecting internal and societal conflicts onto a cosmic battlefield. In pro-Palestinian activism, slogans warning of impending global catastrophe if “decolonization” is not achieved echo these apocalyptic tropes. This rhetoric heightens paranoia by portraying the conflict as a divine or existential struggle, where failure to act risks the “final destruction of life.” Such narratives transform psychic defenses into ideological barricades, perpetuating division and foreclosing opportunities for dialogue or reconciliation.
The interplay of these psychological and ideological forces underscores how pro-Palestinian activism can entrench conflict rather than resolve it. By constructing a world of absolute moral clarity, activists shield themselves from the complexities of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, prioritizing ideological purity over the integrative work of understanding and coexistence. The reliance on binary narratives and projected enemies reflects deep-seated psychological vulnerabilities and mirrors broader cultural trends, where certainty and moral absolutism are prized over nuance and compromise. This paranoid framework risks perpetuating division, both within activist communities and in the broader geopolitical arena, as it forecloses the possibility of meaningful dialogue.
Schizophrenia: Fragmented Alliances and Delusional Unity
Lacan’s nuanced differentiation between paranoia and schizophrenia offers a deeper layer to this psychoanalytic inquiry, portraying schizophrenia as a more radical disruption in psychic structure. In schizophrenia, the subject experiences a profound collapse of the Symbolic order—the network of social norms, languages, and meanings that provide coherence—due to an even more severe foreclosure. This leaves the individual adrift in the Real, a realm of unmediated chaos unbound by signification, resulting in fragmented identities, hallucinatory experiences, disorganized thought patterns, or desperate attempts at delusional reconstructions to impose some semblance of order.
In the realm of Western Palestinian activism, schizophrenic traits become evident through the movement’s eclectic and often contradictory alliances and narratives, which attempt to forge unity amid inherent disarray. Activists frequently blend anti-colonial rhetoric with disparate ideologies such as queer theory, radical environmentalism, anti-capitalist critiques, or even indigenous rights movements from other contexts, creating a bricolage of ideas that superficially aligns but often conceals underlying inconsistencies. For example, alliances between secular leftists and Islamist groups, or between feminist advocates and organizations with patriarchal structures, highlight this fragmentation, where ideological purity is sacrificed for the illusion of a broader front. This mirrors a broader cultural schizophrenia prevalent in the West under neoliberalism: the erosion of traditional identities—through atomized work cultures, digital disconnection, and the commodification of relationships—leaves individuals yearning for coherence, prompting them to latch onto radical external causes as anchors.
The Palestinian struggle, idealized as a universal emblem of resistance against all forms of oppression, functions as a delusional suture in Lacanian terms—a makeshift stitch attempting to mend the torn fabric of the Symbolic order. Freud’s indirect influence here, through his explorations of psychosis as a regression to primary narcissism, echoes in the ways activists regress to undifferentiated states, blurring personal boundaries in collective hysteria during mass protests or online campaigns. Wilfred Bion’s theory of group dynamics further enriches this, positing that such movements operate as “basic assumption groups,” where shared fantasies—such as the belief in an imminent revolutionary triumph—override rational reality-testing, akin to schizophrenic disorganization on a societal scale.
This schizophrenic volatility is starkly apparent in the activism’s reactive surges, such as the explosive protests following events like October 7, 2023, where factual narratives are rapidly reinterpreted through a totalizing ideological prism, often bordering on hallucinatory reinterpretations that dismiss complexities in favor of simplified myths. Postcolonial theory aggravates this fragmentation by promoting hybrid critiques that, while innovative, can devolve into incoherent demands. Grosfoguel’s vision of a redeemed future, free from modernity’s grip, embodies this schizophrenic delusion: “We must overcome the individualistic, modern, egocentric subjectivity and become more compassionate, supportive, and community-oriented people… Palestine is a turning point.” This compensatory utopia papers over contradictions, much as Hitler’s apocalyptic prophecies sought to unify a fractured Germany: “his crown will be the funeral wreath of humanity.” In Palestinian activism, phrases like “from the river to the sea” or urgent calls for total decolonization carry this quality, blending aspirations for liberation with implications of erasure, where fragmented psyches pursue delusional wholeness through radical absolutism, often disconnecting from pragmatic realities.
Intersections and the Path Forward
These psychoanalytic pathologies—melancholy fueling paranoid projections, which in turn fragment into schizophrenic disarray—do not exist in silos but interweave dynamically within the fabric of postcolonial-infused Palestinian activism, creating a self-reinforcing feedback loop. Freud’s concept of displacement remains central: personal alienations from modern life’s discontents are redirected onto geopolitical arenas, imbuing them with exaggerated significance as sources of meaning amid existential drift. Lacan’s triadic registers—the Imaginary of narcissistic identifications with the “oppressed,” the Symbolic of ideological structures like decolonial narratives, and the Real of uncontainable traumas from historical guilt—illustrate how activists oscillate between these realms, frequently collapsing into psychotic modes when faced with real-world complexities or contradictions.
Grosfoguel’s contributions, while rooted in a desire for ethical decolonial practice, inadvertently echo Hitler’s apocalyptic justifications by framing Palestine as a pivotal battleground for humanity’s survival. This language permeates Western activism, elevating solidarity to a defense against psychic collapse, yet risking the entrenchment of dogmatism. While this framework risks oversimplifying structural injustices—potentially echoing historical misuses of psychology to pathologize resistance—it substantiates the observed rigidity in these movements, where ideological purity often supplants psychological self-awareness.
Ultimately, recognizing these intertwined dynamics opens pathways to a more integrative activism. Drawing from Klein, a transition from the paranoid-schizoid to the depressive position could encourage acknowledging ambivalence in both self and cause, fostering reparation through dialogue rather than apocalyptic division. In this way, postcolonial insights, when tempered with psychoanalytic reflection, might evolve from compensatory radicalism toward genuine, sustainable engagement that honors complexity and promotes healing.
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