he state of Israel is often portrayed in simplified terms as a binary conflict between Jews and Arabs. Such a framing obscures the deeply layered ethnic, cultural and sectarian realities that shape its internal structure. In practice, Israel is a complex and stratified society. The divisions are rooted not only in the Jewish-Arab divide but also in distinctions among various Jewish communities themselves—most notably between Ashkenazi Jews of European origin, Mizrahi Jews from the Middle East and North Africa and smaller indigenous or historically continuous groups, such as the Samaritans. These differentiations have profoundly influenced the distribution of power, access to resources and the formation of political identities.

The ideological origins of the state lie in European political Zionism, articulated most prominently by Theodor Herzl (a German-speaking Hungarian Jew) in the late Nineteenth Century. Herzl famously wrote in Der Judenstaat (1896) that “the Jewish question is no more a social than a religious one… it is a national question,” situating Zionism squarely within the framework of European nationalist thought.

Early Zionist leadership, institutions and cultural outlooks were overwhelmingly shaped by European experiences, including both the pressures of anti-Semitism and the intellectual currents of nationalism and colonial modernity. This European imprint was not merely administrative; it carried with it a hierarchy of cultural valuation. Scholars such as Edward Said later argued that Zionism, like other settler-colonial projects, operated through “imaginative geographies” that cast the East as backward and in need of transformation, a perception that affected attitudes not only toward Arab inhabitants but also toward Jews from Arab lands.

This orientation had enduring consequences. Indigenous Arab populations—Muslim, Christian and Druze—who remained in Israel after 1948 became citizens of the new state but entered it under conditions of structural inequality. Today, numbering around 2.1 million, they form roughly a fifth of the population. While formally enfranchised, their lived reality often reflects disparities in land ownership, municipal funding, employment opportunities and political influence. The tension between legal equality and material inequality has been widely noted.

As the Israeli sociologist Sammy Smooha observed, Israel can be described as an ‘ethnic democracy,’ a system in which one ethnic group enjoys a privileged position while minority groups retain formal rights but limited substantive power. This paradox is further underscored by legislation such as the 2018 Nation-State Law, which defines Israel as the nation-state of the Jewish people, prompting critics to argue that it constitutionally entrenches a hierarchy of belonging.

Parallel to the marginalisation of Arab citizens was the complex incorporation of Mizrahi Jews, who arrived in large numbers from countries such as Iraq, Morocco, Yemen and Egypt in the decades following 1948. These communities had historically lived in Arab and Islamic societies, speaking Arabic and participating in shared cultural worlds.

Upon arrival in Israel, however, they encountered a state apparatus dominated by Ashkenazi elites who often regarded them through a lens of cultural superiority. The historian Ella Shohat has written that Mizrahim were “seen as part of the Orient… needing to be civilised,” highlighting the extent to which intra-Jewish relations reproduced colonial hierarchies. Many Mizrahim were settled in peripheral “development towns,” experienced economic hardship and faced stigmatisation as being “too Arab,” a label that carried both cultural and political implications in the context of an ongoing conflict with Arab neighbours.

Over time, however, Mizrahi Jews underwent a significant transformation in their socio-political position. Through demographic weight, political mobilisation and cultural persistence, they moved from marginalisation toward integration. Their support for right-wing parties, such as Likud and Shas has been interpreted by scholars like Yehouda Shenhav as both an assertion of belonging in the state and a reaction against earlier exclusion by the Ashkenazi establishment. Shenhav argues that Mizrahi identity in Israel is marked by a “double consciousness,” simultaneously shaped by Arab cultural heritage and Zionist national identity. This duality helps explain why many Mizrahim, despite historical experiences of discrimination, have embraced strong nationalist positions and often align politically against Arab Palestinians.

The question of ‘Arab Jews’ further complicates the narrative. Before 1948, Jewish communities across the Middle East frequently identified as part of the Arab cultural sphere. The term itself, however, became contested in Israel, as the state’s nation-building project encouraged a clear separation between Jewish and Arab identities. As Avi Shlaim has noted, “the Zionist movement sought to de-Arabise the Jews from Arab countries,” encouraging them to adopt a homogenised Israeli identity that minimised their historical ties to Arab culture. Yet traces of this shared heritage persist in language, music, cuisine and social memory. Some intellectuals continue to emphasise these connections as a potential bridge in an otherwise polarised environment.

Amid these larger groups, smaller communities, such as the Samaritans represent a living link to the ancient past. Numbering only around 900 individuals, they claim descent from the ancient Israelites and maintain distinct religious traditions centred on Mount Gerizim. Their existence highlights the deep historical layers that precede modern national identities and demonstrates the possibility of pragmatic coexistence; many Samaritans hold both Israeli and Palestinian documents and navigate a delicate balance between the two societies.

The Israeli social fabric is also marked by sectarian divisions that cut across ethnic lines, including tensions between secular and religious Jews, as well as between Orthodox and ultra-Orthodox communities. Historically, Ashkenazi dominance has extended across key institutions, such as academia, the judiciary and the military, shaping the distribution of power and cultural capital. Although this dominance has been challenged and partially eroded over time, inequalities remain embedded in institutional structures.

Taken together, these dynamics reveal a stratified hierarchy in which Ashkenazi Jews have historically occupied the upper echelons; Mizrahi Jews have achieved partial but incomplete integration; and Arab citizens continue to face systemic disadvantages. This hierarchy is not static, but it reflects enduring disparities in access to resources, representation and influence. The absence of a Mizrahi prime minister, despite their demographic prominence, is often cited as an indicator of these lingering imbalances, even as individuals of Mizrahi background have attained high offices such as the presidency and the speakership of the Knesset.

The response of Mizrahi Jews to Zionism encapsulates many of these contradictions. For some, migration to Israel was less an ideological commitment than a consequence of regional upheaval, displacement or coercion. Over time, however, integration into Israeli society fostered identification with the state, even as memories of marginalisation persisted. Their political assertiveness today reflects both a sense of belonging and a historical grievance, producing a complex alignment that often places them at odds with Arab Palestinians despite shared cultural origins.

In this sense, Israel cannot be adequately understood as either a unified national project or a simple colonial enterprise. It is, rather, a deeply fragmented polity shaped by overlapping histories of migration, displacement and identity formation. As historian Ilan Pappé has argued, “the reality on the ground is one of multiple Israels,” each defined by different experiences and narratives. The interplay of European Zionist origins, indigenous Arab marginalisation, Mizrahi integration and persistent internal hierarchies continues to define the country’s socio-political landscape.

Understanding this complexity requires moving beyond reductive binaries and engaging with the intricate ways in which ethnicity, sectarianism and power intersect. It is within these intersections that the tensions and possibilities of Israeli society are most clearly revealed and where the future trajectory of the state will ultimately be shaped.

The writer is a professor in the Faculty of Liberal Arts at the Beaconhouse National University, Lahore.