Human brains are wired by evolution to detect social imbalance.

In early tribal life, if one member (or group) accumulated too much power or wealth, it posed a threat to social cohesion. Calling it out helped restore fairness and survival.

But that same ancient instinct can misfire in modern societies.

When people see a tiny group like the Jews—just 0.2% of the world’s population—represented in positions of influence, it can trigger that primal reflex.

Something feels off.

The brain, attuned to inequality within small groups, interprets it as a potential danger.

Instead of recognizing Jewish success as the result of resilience, education, and strong cultural values passed down through generations, it’s easy to believe a less complex and emotionally satisfying story:

That there must be cheating or unjust manipulation.

Not because evidence demands it, but because the narrative feels true. It soothes frustration and explains why life feels unfair.

This is what makes antisemitism so enduring. It doesn’t stem from logic—it arises from envy, fear, and the deep desire to restore balance.

Antisemitism isn’t just a prejudice. It’s a cognitive reflex. And like all biases, it thrives when emotion replaces reason.

To confront it, we must understand it as a psychological pattern that needs to be interrupted.