For decades, Israeli governments benefited from a powerful combination of strategic alliances, historical guilt over the Holocaust, shared security interests and the perception that Israel represented a fellow democracy in a turbulent region. But that political consensus is no longer as secure as it once was. As criticism of Israel’s conduct in Gaza has intensified, a familiar strategy has returned to the center of the debate: portraying criticism of Israel as part of a wider threat from Islamism, antisemitism or hostility towards the West. There is a legitimate danger in all three. Antisemitism is real, Islamophobia is real, and violent extremism must be confronted. But invoking those dangers selectively can become politically convenient and deeply damaging. The danger is that Islamophobia becomes a shield against accountability. There is an important distinction between opposing Islamist extremism and treating Muslims, Arabs or Palestinians as inherently threatening. A Western public increasingly exposed to images of Palestinian suffering is unlikely to accept the argument that every expression of solidarity with Palestinians is evidence of hostility towards Israel or the Jewish people. Nor should criticism of the Israeli government be conflated with antisemitism. Israel is a state, and like every other state it must be open to scrutiny.  Israel’s strategic calculation may therefore carry a serious political risk. By presenting its conflict primarily through the lens of a civilizational struggle between the West and an imagined Islamic threat, it may strengthen short-term political alliances while alienating younger Western generations who increasingly view the conflict through the language of human rights and civilian protection. The consequences are already visible in political debates across Europe and North America. Public opinion is becoming more skeptical of unconditional support for Israel. Universities, churches, civil-society organizations and political movements are debating whether existing Western policies have given Israel too much diplomatic latitude. Governments that once treated criticism of Israel as politically hazardous now face pressure from voters who regard Palestinian rights as a central foreign-policy issue. This shift cannot simply be dismissed as the product of propaganda, antisemitism or ignorance. Some criticism undoubtedly is anti-Semitic, and misinformation exists on all sides. But a democratic government cannot preserve international legitimacy by explaining away every uncomfortable question as prejudice. Israel’s strongest defense in the West has historically rested not on fear of Muslims but on the argument that it shares the values of liberal democracies. If that claim is to retain credibility, those values must apply consistently: the protection of civilian life, equality before the law, freedom of expression and accountability for state power. The West, meanwhile, has its own responsibility. European and American governments should reject both antisemitism and Islamophobia without allowing either to become a political instrument. They should judge Israeli and Palestinian actors according to the same standards and distinguish legitimate criticism from hatred. The choice facing Israel is therefore larger than a public-relations battle. It is about whether its relationship with the West will continue to be grounded in shared democratic principles or increasingly in fear of a common enemy. Fear can preserve an alliance for a time. It cannot indefinitely preserve legitimacy. If Israel believes that Islamophobia can secure its place in the West, it may be making a dangerous wager. The more durable path would be to demonstrate that its security and democratic identity are compatible with Palestinian rights, civilian protection and accountability.