During my years as a psychologist and psychotherapist, I have been invited into the most intimate avenues of my clients’ lives. I have borne witness to stories of dysfunctional upbringings and fractured relationships that have left me shocked, appalled, and deeply saddened. The capacity for human beings to harm one another never ceases to amaze me; I hear the echoes of it time and again in the therapy room.
As Viktor Frankl famously observed, “An abnormal reaction to an abnormal situation is normal behavior.” My role is to meet clients within those abnormal situations with unconditional positive regard: to hold space for them to narrate their histories, process their emotions, and empower them to change what they can. When working with those from dysfunctional families, the concept of "family roles" almost always emerges.
In family systems theory, children unconsciously adopt psychological roles to help the system maintain equilibrium. These are not chosen; they are adaptive responses to relational stress, neglect, or unresolved trauma. As Virginia Satir, a pioneer of family therapy, once noted: “The family is a microcosm of the world. To understand the world, we can begin by understanding the family.” In healthy systems, roles are flexible. In dysfunctional ones, they become rigid, serving to protect the family’s psychological defenses rather than fostering growth. We see the golden child, the hero, the lost child, and the enabler. But arguably, the most overtly painful and psychologically burdensome role is that of the scapegoat.
In clinical terms, the scapegoat functions as the "identified patient." This individual becomes the container for the family’s disowned emotions: anger, shame, guilt, and fear. Through projection and projective identification, these uncomfortable feelings are displaced onto one member, allowing the rest of the system to maintain the illusion of health. As Carl Jung wrote, “Everything that is irritating about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves.” In a dysfunctional family, however, that understanding is avoided at all costs. The scapegoat is blamed for problems they did not create; they are criticized, pathologized, and ostracized to protect the system from confronting its own rot.
Scapegoating dynamics are not limited to the living room; they scale up to groups and societies. The philosopher René Girard argued that scapegoating is a fundamental human mechanism used to reduce collective anxiety and maintain social cohesion. He noted, “The scapegoat mechanism is the invisible pillar of all social order.” By blaming a specific group for complex problems, a society restores a sense of moral clarity: if the scapegoat is the "evil," the rest of the system can view itself as fundamentally "good." However, this relief is an illusion. The underlying dysfunction remains, and the cycle of blame must continue to keep the peace.
Paradoxically, the scapegoat is often the most psychologically perceptive member of the family. Because they are less invested in maintaining the shared denial, they become the truth-tellers—the ones who challenge the narratives that sustain the dysfunction. This truth-telling destabilizes the system, provoking further defensiveness and silencing. As George Orwell wrote, “The further a society drifts from truth, the more it will hate those who speak it.”
My interest in these dynamics has inevitably shaped how I consider the Gaza–Israel conflict. I approached this issue as I would a client’s story—through careful history-taking and psychological formulation. I opened the door to Israel’s narrative and immersed myself in the history of the Jewish people: the diaspora, centuries of persecution, pre-1948 tensions, and the factors leading to the creation of the State of Israel.
I learned of the "mutating virus" of antisemitism, as the late Rabbi Jonathan Sacks called it. Across centuries, the same hatred has been reshaped to suit the narrative of the time: Jews portrayed as child murderers, C---t-killers, disease carriers, and now, "colonizers." The accusations change form, but the underlying hostility remains. Yet, within this history, I also encountered the extraordinary resilience of the Jewish people—a capacity to rebuild that mirrors the resilience I see in the most courageous of my clients.
In this context, the international community resembles a macro version of a dysfunctional family system. Within this metaphor, organizations such as the UN, the Red Cross, and Amnesty International act as dysfunctional parental figures—institutions meant to guide and protect, yet influenced by political denial and distorted narratives. Countries like Australia, the UK, and Canada often occupy the role of enablers, shifting responsibility and turning a blind eye to destructive behaviors. Within this framework, the Palestinians are frequently cast as the "Golden Child"—the one who, in the eyes of the system, can do no wrong.
And the scapegoat? Israel. And, by extension, Jews worldwide.
The writer Vasily Grossman once said: “Tell me what you accuse the Jews of, and I will tell you what you are guilty of.” This is the clinical definition of projection. In dysfunctional families, when the scapegoat speaks truth, they are accused of the very behaviors they are trying to expose. We see this dynamic in the accusations leveled against Israel since October 7th. Israel defended itself against a brutal terrorist attack and was rapidly blamed for the consequences of a war initiated by a death cult. Many of the accusations directed at Israel—the targeting of civilians, the use of humanitarian infrastructure for war, the genocidal intent—mirror the exact behaviors of Hamas.
I write this because I feel compelled to say something simple: I am sorry. One of the most powerful moments in my own therapy journey was when my therapist said: “I’m so sorry that happened to you. You didn’t deserve that.”
Such simple words can be transformative. For the first time, I felt seen. And so I want to say, to Israel and to Jewish communities around the world: I am sorry that you are experiencing this wave of blame, hostility, and hatred. It is not fair. It is not right.
Like a therapist walking beside a client through a painful chapter, I want to say: stand strong. Continue to shine your light of truth in these dark times. I am not Jewish; I cannot fully embody your history. But I can meet it with empathy and solidarity. Just as I go into the trenches with my clients, I stand beside you in this struggle.
The values of liberal democracy feel increasingly fragile. Against a tide of distortion, Israel continues to defend itself and, in doing so, defends the truth. Just as the scapegoat within a family often becomes the courageous truth-teller, Israel persists in confronting those who seek its destruction.
So, alongside my apology, I offer a wholehearted thank you.
Thank you for your resilience.
Thank you for your courage.
Thank you for your unwavering commitment to survival.
