Uprising Otherwise: An Interview with Vijay Prashad on Worldwide Protests for Palestine

By Emeer Hassanpour

Vijay is a prominent historian and journalist from India, known for his extensive work spanning over forty books. His notable titles include Washington Bullets, Red Star Over the Third World, The Darker Nations: A People’s History of the Third World, The Poorer Nations: A Possible History of the Global South, and The Withdrawal: Iraq, Libya, Afghanistan, and the Fragility of U.S. Power, co-authored with Noam Chomsky. He holds several key roles: executive director of the Tricontinental Institute for Social Research, chief correspondent for Globetrotter, and chief editor at LeftWord Books in New Delhi.

Emeer Hassanpour: I want to begin our conversation with the global rise of anti-Zionist movements, particularly in the United States. There is a notable distinction between these movements and what transpired during the Black Lives Matter protests or other quasi-movements. While Black Lives Matter garnered support from liberals within the Democratic Party, anti-Zionist protests—especially in the United States—have provoked a unity among conservatives and liberals in opposition to pro-Palestinian voices. Why is it that U.S. imperialism, in concert with its Western capitalist allies, finds this progressive movement—one that prominently includes students—intolerable? Is it fear of something being reborn, or is this an unmasking of the true face of Western democracy, which, as Samir Amin aptly describes, reveals itself as "the one-sided dictatorship of capital"?

Vijay Prashad: The first thing that stands out is how remarkable it is that tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of people have mobilized to engage in sustained demonstrations—a recurring cycle of protests involving not just young people but individuals across all age groups. This level of participation is extraordinary. Part of it stems from the sheer brutality of the current Israeli assault. This isn’t simply about the presence of social media; after all, social media existed in 2014 and 2015, albeit not at today’s scale. Even then, the bombing campaigns were severe, with 3,000 to 4,000 Palestinians killed in a short period. But this bombardment has been so relentless, so merciless, that it has shocked an unprecedented number of people. The intensity and brutality of this assault, unlike anything seen in recent years, play a critical role in galvanizing this response.

Secondly, I think there’s a growing sense of political maturity among people of Arab descent and the Muslim faith living in Western countries. These populations, who were often subdued during the post-9/11 era and the height of the “war on terror,” have undergone a generational shift. A younger cohort of Arabs and Muslims—many born around or after 9/11—do not harbor the same fear as their predecessors. They are bold and unapologetic, taking to the streets in countries like France, the United States, and Canada, claiming these nations as their own. This generation says, “This is my country,” and acts with extraordinary courage. Their willingness to protest in such large numbers has been a defining feature of these movements.

Thirdly, we cannot ignore the way these events have also galvanized leftist forces across various contexts. In France, the Palestinian struggle has played a pivotal role in energizing the left, contributing significantly to the New Popular Front, an alliance of left-wing parties that performed exceptionally well in recent elections. In Britain, we’ve seen independent candidates campaigning on the Gaza war win seats in Westminster, including Jeremy Corbyn. Sinn Féin, in Northern Ireland, has also gained ground, maintaining its unwavering support for Palestine. These developments underscore how the Palestinian cause is helping propel broader leftist momentum globally.

This ongoing cycle of protests and activism reveals an energy that power structures find deeply unsettling. When tens of thousands mobilize around issue A, it becomes much easier for them to pivot to issue B because the initial barriers of fear have been dismantled. Many of the young activists I encounter across these movements are driven not only by profound anger at the apartheid state’s actions against Palestinians but also by their own precarious conditions. They are part of a generation struggling to find stable employment, often even after earning college degrees, while witnessing their governments funnel billions into wars in Palestine, Ukraine, or the South China Sea. This disparity fuels a broader resentment.

The ruling class, understandably, fears that protests against something like the war in Gaza could spill over into other domains—fostering stronger labor unions, revitalizing leftist political movements, and challenging centrist political parties. These cycles of protest are unpredictable and uncontrollable, which is precisely why they provoke such vigilance. The ruling class resorts to defamation tactics, accusing protesters of being pawns of foreign powers like Russia or China or alleging connections to Hamas. These attempts to delegitimize dissent, however, are proving ineffective.

What is striking is that none of these smear campaigns have succeeded in halting the protests. On the contrary, the cycles of demonstrations continue to grow, drawing in more people and presenting an ever-greater challenge to the status quo. This persistence profoundly unsettles the ruling elite, and it’s not hard to see why.

EH: Following the Arab Spring, numerous protest movements emerged globally—from the Middle East to Latin America and Southeast Asia—protesting various government policies. However, many observers noted that these movements lacked a distinct structure or a clearly organized class base. They surged briefly before fading away. These movements are often categorized as “Dégagisme” protests, defined by their demand for political resignations without offering a coherent or unified alternative agenda.

Do you consider the current protests against the U.S.-Israeli genocide in Palestine to be cohesive movements with unified demands? Or do you think they risk following the same trajectory as previous mass protests—such as those against the Iraq War—by dissipating over time without achieving lasting impact?

VP: Well, let's take this sequentially. The first issue is that when the protests started in Tunisia and Egypt in late 2010 and then in 2011, they were characterized immediately as leaderless protests. And that characterization is actually quite false -in fact, you don't have to take my word for it- the Nobel Prize was given to three Tunisian organizations, one of which was the trade union movement, which played a very important role in shaping the struggle to get rid of mister Ben Ali, who was then the president of Tunisia. In Egypt, as well, it was clear to those of us who reported the Tahrir Square protests that, firstly, it was limited geographically. The bulk of attention was given to Cairo, to Tahrir. There was no attention to Alexandria, Port Said, and the textile workers of El Mahala, and so on. And again, there was a characterization of leaderlessness.

Leaderlessness as a philosophy, is particularly attractive in middle-class protests. If you’re a young middle-class individual without ideological training on the importance of organization, the last thing you want is a disciplined, hierarchical structure telling you what to do—like parents imposing rules. The appeal of flat, leaderless politics is strong in such contexts.

When the notion of a "leaderless revolution" emerged, it gained traction. But in reality, even movements labeled as leaderless often had identifiable leadership or organizational roles. Take Egypt, for instance—far from being leaderless, the Muslim Brotherhood played a significant role, as did labor unions, albeit to a lesser degree. While unions were not as influential as they might have been, they still mattered. But let’s leave Egypt aside for now and focus on the broader global context.

The allure of leaderlessness persists partly because many people resist involvement in structured, vanguard-style politics. They prefer to show up for a protest, feel the accomplishment of participation, and then return home believing they’ve contributed to change. This isn’t a criticism or mockery—it’s a natural tendency. Most people are not ideologically committed to the point of attending weekly meetings, engaging in lengthy discussions about strategy, or dedicating themselves to ongoing political work. That small, ideologically driven segment of society was largely absent during the mass mobilizations of 2011 and 2012 in many countries.

Even where small ideological groups existed, they were often unable to capitalize on the energy and momentum of these mass protests. From these movements emerged so-called leaderless organizations, but the term "leaderless" is misleading. Take Podemos in Spain as an example. It wasn’t leaderless—it coalesced around Pablo Iglesias, a university professor. Leadership may not always be overt or traditional, but it exists in some form, even in movements celebrated for their horizontalism. In fact, these movements were the opposite of leaderless. They had leaders but lacked the mediating structures necessary to connect those leaders to the public in a meaningful and democratic way. This lack of accountability and organizational frameworks was, in many ways, their downfall. Without mechanisms for individuals to rise through an organization or contribute meaningfully, these movements failed to be truly democratic. Ironically, many of these so-called leaderless protests, such as Occupy Wall Street in the United States, ended up producing charismatic leaders who substituted themselves for the process of building robust organizations. When no such leaders emerged, these movements often turned to inviting celebrities to speak at their protests—another form of substitutionism.

At the time, there was little critique of this model. The idea of horizontal leadership was widely celebrated and even intellectually supported. John Holloway, for instance, wrote Change the World Without Taking Power, inspired by the Zapatista movement. But the Zapatistas neither changed the world nor took power. In fact, taking power was framed as a negative, undesirable goal. This ideological shift sidelined the Marxist approach to politics in many academic and activist circles. The appeal of such leaderless politics is clear: participation demands very little. Showing up to a demonstration becomes the price of entry, but the more critical aspects of organizing—building coalitions, creating infrastructure, and strategizing for long-term change—are often ignored.

Consider a basic question: If you attend a demonstration, who is organizing it? Who’s building the stage? Who’s providing the microphone? Who’s making decisions about the next steps, such as shifting from one site of protest to another? These processes were rendered invisible, which is inherently anti-democratic. In the name of horizontalism, power itself was invisibilized.

I take issue with the philosophy of leaderlessness and the kind of arguments promoted by thinkers like Holloway. His notion of “changing the world without taking power” is, in my view, a ludicrous argument. That said, I think there’s been significant learning over the past 10 to 15 years in many countries. Take La France Insoumise as an example. While it initially coalesced around the figure of Jean-Luc Mélenchon, it has since matured into a more structured political party in France. It now collaborates with other factions of the left and was able to form a remarkable alliance in just a few weeks, achieving significant success in parliamentary elections.

This demonstrates a clear evolution from the errors of earlier movements that relied on invisible or horizontal structures, which were neither democratic nor effective. Today, we are no longer in the era of 2011 or 2012. Globally, movements have matured, though there is still a long way to go. Horizontalist tendencies persist—not because they are inherently anarchist, but because they are easier to embrace. Horizontalism requires less commitment, less organizational effort, and less sacrifice. Building an organization, by contrast, is slow, difficult, and often tedious work. It requires sustained effort and selflessness. While we are turning a corner, there is still significant progress to be made—both ideologically and institutionally. The maturation of these movements is promising, but the challenge remains to fully embrace the hard work of building democratic, accountable organizations capable of effecting lasting change.

EH: It is interesting that you mentioned John Holloway, and there are many others, particularly in U.S. academia, who have followed similar paths. To what extent have leftist academic circles and fashionable intellectual discourses influenced the composition and character of today’s movements? Can we assert that the fragmented nature of these classes and politically incoherent movements is, at least in part, a remnant of the influence exerted by these figures on global protests? If so, what alternative strategies exist to counter these trends? More specifically, how should today’s left organize itself effectively to combat its principal adversary—U.S. imperialism without falling into any revisionist academic discourse?

VP: I think we need to be cautious here because the dynamics vary greatly across countries. It’s difficult to generalize. For example, in a country like Brazil, sections of the academic community are deeply engaged in political struggles, actively involved in movements, and play a substantial role in shaping them. However, for the sake of this discussion, let’s confine ourselves to the North Atlantic context—Europe and the United States.

Years ago, Perry Anderson, in his book Considerations on Western Marxism, argued that the defeat of the German Revolution had a profound impact on intellectual thought, diverting many left-wing intellectuals toward philosophy and away from political parties or social movement discipline. While that analysis remains true, the phenomenon intensified during the neoliberal era. Updating Anderson’s framework, we find that the neoliberal academy—on both sides of the Atlantic—created a star system. This system allowed a select few individuals to rise to prominence with high salaries, abundant resources, and ample time for research and writing, while the vast majority paid precarious wages.

The star system enabled these select academics to wield significant influence because they could churn out books, give lectures, and occupy prominent positions in public discourse. Yet, many of these individuals chose to remain detached from the collective leadership of political organizations. Traditionally, a Marxist intellectual would be rooted in the collective work of an organization, understanding that real-world change emerges from a dialectical relationship between theory and mass struggle. While this doesn’t mean Marxist intellectuals must blindly follow party lines, they do need to situate their intellectual work within the parameters of class struggle and contribute to building movements alongside the masses.

However, the star system fosters a very different habit: academics often become individualist prophets rather than dialecticians. Instead of engaging in the messy, collective processes of organizing, they are incentivized to produce declarations from a metaphorical mountaintop. This detachment from grassroots struggle is not merely a personal failing—it’s structural. The material conditions of the academy actively encourage these behaviors.

Consider this: a newly minted PhD might face a choice between a precarious adjunct position paying $15,000 a year or a tenure-track role at a wealthy institution offering $300,000 annually. The choice is practically impossible. Most will choose the latter, and understandably so. Yet, this choice often marks the beginning of a detachment from the realities of social struggle. With time, such academics might start to see themselves as superior to the movements they claim to support, positioning themselves above the masses and issuing pronouncements rather than working alongside them in collective spaces.

This lack of rootedness has a profound impact on intellectual production. The absence of collective dialectical engagement reduces much of leftist academic work to abstract theorizing, disconnected from the realities of class struggle. It’s important to stress that this is not a matter of personal moral failure but a consequence of the academy’s structural inequities. The vast wage disparity between highly paid stars and precarious graduate students or adjunct instructors exacerbates these dynamics. For the left to counter this, unions within academia need to fight for wage equity. There should be a closer indexing of salaries—for example, the lowest-paid instructor and the highest-paid professor should have a fixed and reasonable ratio. Allowing disparities to mimic corporate hierarchies, where the gap between a janitor and a CEO is obscene, only reproduces the inequalities that deform intellectual production.

This structural inequality also influences the way leftist knowledge is consumed. Students see their precarious instructors barely surviving while the stars—traveling the world, publishing new books, and giving prestigious lectures—appear far more attractive. This divergence reinforces a corruptive cycle: the celebrity academic model becomes aspirational, while the collective, movement-oriented intellectual model is dismissed as unviable or outdated.

An example of this distortion is visible in how intellectual trends are documented. I recently read a critique of critical theory that focused on approximately 25 individual thinkers—academics positioned as “stars” in their respective fields. The author never attempted to organize the book around schools of thought, such as Marxists or anarchists, but rather centered it on personalities. This reflects a broader problem: even when multiple academics might share ideological frameworks, they rarely form coherent schools of thought due to the individualist incentives of the star system.

This lack of collectivism in academic production affects how students and future intellectuals imbibe knowledge. The ideological class struggle within academia becomes deformed, privileging individuals over collective intellectual traditions. In this context, even leftist stars—those who write and speak in the name of Marxism—end up confusing matters. Their detachment from grassroots struggles and their reliance on individualistic modes of production render their work alien to the masses they claim to represent.

To counter these trends, we need to structurally transform the academy itself. This includes fighting for equity in wages, dismantling the star system, and fostering an environment where intellectual work is tied to collective struggle. More importantly, the left must prioritize building political organizations that allow intellectuals to work alongside movements, not above them. Only then can we create intellectual production that is rooted in the dialectic of class struggle rather than the isolated musings of individual prophets.

EH: Is the United States seeking to suppress the current political and progressive spectrum under the guise of an “anti-Semitism” strategy? Or, more accurately, can it be argued that we are entering a new era of McCarthyism—one that may be even more alarming than its predecessor? If so, is this policy capable of replicating the same level of effectiveness observed during the McCarthy era or, later, the Reagan administration?

VP: It's difficult to say. The term McCarthyism is convenient but often overused, much like fascism. It risks becoming unspecific, though that doesn't mean it isn't a compelling framework for understanding contemporary reality.

Even five or ten years ago, when critics of Israel were accused of antisemitism by Zionist groups or figures on the right, there was a deep sense of isolation. I remember being pilloried by the Anti-Defamation League and others, and it was a lonely experience. Even those you might expect to defend you often stayed silent, fearful of being tarnished by association. Being accused of antisemitism is like being called a racist or a sexist—it’s a heinous accusation that’s nearly impossible to refute without sounding defensive. Saying, “I’m not an antisemite” is inherently absurd because the charge itself is absurd. The more preposterous the accusation, the harder it is to counter without legitimizing it in some way.

However, the landscape has changed. Today, those accused of antisemitism find themselves far less isolated. Take the example of Professor Jodi Dean at Hobart and William Smith Colleges. She wrote a poignant and well-crafted essay about the events of October 7, which included a controversial reference to gliders. The college president suspended her. In the past—even just five years ago—Professor Dean might have been utterly isolated, afraid to leave her home or walk across campus under the weight of such accusations. But now, the situation is different.

Thanks to a surge in political activism, such accusations don’t hold the same power. Weekly protests in cities like New York, D.C., and Detroit, along with solidarity movements nationwide, have created a sense of collective resistance. When Professor Dean was attacked, she didn’t retreat. Instead, she participated in over 20 webinars, standing her ground and calling out the baselessness of the accusations.

This shift has fundamentally altered the conditions under which these accusations are made. Many people are no longer intimidated. Of course, some still are, and the fear persists in certain circles. But increasingly, others see the protests outside their windows—marches chanting “Free Palestine”—and decide they won’t be silenced. The tide is turning.

The Israeli propaganda machine, Hasbara, is struggling to control the narrative. Even in mainstream media, the cracks are evident. In the UK, for instance, Piers Morgan—an otherwise problematic host—recently struggled to contain his guests on the issue. George Galloway, for example, ran rhetorical circles around him. Jeremy Corbyn, long vilified as an antisemite, continues to carry significant support, including from within the Jewish community. These tactics simply don’t resonate the way they used to.

This is why I hesitate to call it a new McCarthyism. The chilling effect once associated with these accusations is diminishing. Instead, the global wave of solidarity with Palestine has muted, if not entirely silenced, these charges. Hasbara’s rhetoric no longer has the same hold. People are increasingly unmoved by these baseless claims.

EH: What about those influenced by Zionist propaganda who have expressed solidarity with Israel’s actions, even in the context of genocide?

For instance, numerous videos circulating on social media feature nationalist Indians openly declaring their desire to join the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) to fight against Palestinians. Similarly, pro-regime changes Iranians, particularly those aligned with pan-Iranism and monarchist ideologies, have ardently defended the Zionist regime, both within Iran and in the United States. Many of these individuals were notably involved in the violent attacks on the UCLA encampment, further underscoring their alignment with such oppressive policies.

VP: I wouldn’t exaggerate this. These are very small numbers of people. There will always be a handful of right-wing individuals declaring they’ll pick up a gun to defend the IDF. Similarly, the Iranian exile community is rife with ideological contradictions and peculiarities. For instance, there are leftists advocating for the overthrow of the Islamic regime with U.S. support and monarchists with their own agendas. The distortions within the Iranian exile community are extreme—you’re probably more familiar with this than I am. But the key point is that these instances are minuscule.

This phenomenon is often exaggerated by the Israeli military to project a narrative of widespread international support. For example, they highlight supposed backing from Hindu nationalists in India, but the reality is quite different. There’s no significant support for Israel in India or among Iranians, even among monarchists. Many of them are deeply troubled by what’s happening in Palestine. Perhaps one or two individuals might express such support, but it’s blown out of proportion for propaganda purposes.

Take the claim that Hindu nationalists are rallying to Israel’s cause. Frankly, during ISIS’s peak, more Indians joined ISIS than are now heading to fight in Gaza. The Indians traveling to Israel during this war were primarily contract workers, taking low-end jobs—not ideological recruits. They’re there for pay, not politics.

The idea of an “international brigade” going to defend Israel is absurd. Sure, there might be one or two individuals, but this happens across political spectrums. There are always fringe elements. Look at the people who romanticized joining Rojava. Many of them, with no practical experience, went there thinking they’d become heroes. Most didn’t know how to hold a gun, let alone contribute meaningfully. They became liabilities, with the YPG often relegating them to tasks like cleaning dishes.

So, I wouldn’t overstate this phenomenon. Doing so plays directly into Hasbara’s hands, amplifying a narrative that doesn’t reflect the reality on the ground.

EH: I agree, but the question needs to be asked because so many people, especially younger audiences on social media, are deeply influenced by this kind of right-wing propaganda.

VP:  Absolutely. I also believe we need to ask these questions to clarify the confusion, particularly regarding India. There’s a significant misunderstanding about the relationship between India and Israel. While the hard right in India shares ideological alignment with the Israeli project, its broader constituency isn’t universally invested in it. Most people don’t care about Israel or Palestine—they’re focused on their domestic agenda in India.

India, in many ways, is an extraordinarily parochial country. It’s not a place where people are broadly motivated to fight abroad for ideological causes. As I mentioned earlier, more Indians joined ISIS during its peak than have ever fought for Israel. This underscores the need to address the exaggerated narratives surrounding India and Israel. These claims often misrepresent the reality and must be critically examined and challenged.

EH: What we see in the case of Palestine reflects a significant shift in the assumed framework of Third World solidarity. How does this shift influence your theoretical framing, particularly in comparison to your earlier work on Third World solidarity?

VP: I mean, obviously, everything should evolve—nothing should remain static. You build a theory based on the conjuncture. You don't build a conjuncture based on the theory.

Right now, the principal axis of solidarity with Palestine largely revolves around outrage toward those committing atrocities against Palestinians. That’s the dominant framework. There is, however, a secondary framework that exists but hasn’t been widely generalized—one that centers on the Palestinian resistance as an active force challenging Israeli domination. This framing moves beyond the portrayal of Palestinians as mere victims of Israeli violence to recognizing their role in an asymmetrical struggle against oppression.

The first approach—the more liberal perspective—focuses on the emotional reaction to the horrific images of families being destroyed, positioning Palestinians as victims who need protection. It’s a charitable sentiment rooted in compassion, but it is ultimately a liberal discourse.

In contrast, the leftist discourse emphasizes solidarity rather than pity. It seeks to identify allies within the struggle, connecting with them in shared resistance. However, this perspective has been complicated by the dominance of the Islamic Resistance Movement—Hamas and Islamic Jihad—over secular left-wing or nationalist fronts in this conflict. Western narratives have been highly effective in framing these groups as “terrorists,” which makes it ‘safer’ for many to adopt the liberal approach of sympathy rather than the leftist approach of solidarity with the resistance.

At this moment, it’s crucial not to fall into sectarian divides about which approach is 'correct.' What’s needed is a broad front aimed at ending the genocide while also fostering spaces for debate and discussion. This isn’t just about pity for victims; it’s about supporting the right of oppressed people to resist occupation and apartheid.

That said, I’m not confident the left will create enough space to make its perspective hegemonic on this issue anytime soon. The liberal view, despite being under attack as ‘anti-Semitic,’ is likely to prevail for the foreseeable future. But even so, this shouldn’t discourage debate.

We must also learn to engage across different frameworks without arrogance—without dismissing others as being ‘wrong’ or ‘misguided.’ These approaches, even if imperfect, reflect where people are in their understanding. The challenge lies in nurturing these perspectives and helping them develop toward a deeper, more radical solidarity.