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A Black writer explores how Germany remembers its ‘unthinkable’ past
(JTA) — For his 2021 book “How the Word Is Passed,” winner of the National Book Critics Circle Award for Nonfiction, poet and journalist Clint Smith explored the landscape of American memory — specifically how the history of slavery is explained, commemorated, distorted and desecrated in sites across the United States.
While on tour promoting the book, he explained in an interview Tuesday, he’d often be asked if any country had gotten it right when it came to memorializing its own dark past. “I kept invoking the memorials in Germany, but I had never been to the memorials in Germany,” Smith said. “As a scholar, as a journalist, I felt like I had to do my due diligence and excavate the complexity and the nuance, and the emotional and human texture, that undergirds so many of these places and spaces.”
The result is December’s cover story in the Atlantic, “Monuments to the Unthinkable.” Smith traveled to Germany twice over the past two years, visiting Berlin’s Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, its Topography of Terror Museum, the museum in Wannsee where the Nazis plotted the Final Solution, and the concentration camp at Dachau, talking to historians and curators along the way. As a Black man wrestling with how America accounts for the crimes of its past, he went to learn from the experience of the Germans, who “are still trying to figure out how to tell the story of what their country did, and simultaneously trying to figure out who should tell it.”
In an interview, Smith talked about the inevitable differences between the Holocaust and the Atlantic slave trade, the similarities in how two countries — and communities — experience their histories, and how his article could serve as a bridge between African-Americans and Jews in a time of increasing tension between them.
Smith spoke to JTA from his parents’ home in his native New Orleans.
This interview was edited for length and clarity.
Jewish Telegraphic Agency: Your book is about the ways America succeeds and fails to come to terms with slavery, and your article is about the ways Germany is, in your phrase, “constructing public memory.” I was struck by someone who warned you, “Don’t go to Auschwitz.” What were they saying?
Clint Smith: It was Frederick Brenner, a Jewish man and a remarkable photographer who has photographed the Jewish Diaspora across the world for the past several decades, who said that, because people are standing [at Dachau] and they’re taking selfies, and it’s like “me in front of the crematorium” and “me in front of the barracks.” That was deeply unsettling to him, especially as someone whose family was largely killed in the Holocaust.
I don’t want to be reductive about it and say that you don’t want people to go to these spaces and take pictures. I think it’s all about the sort of disposition and sensibilities one brings to a space. If someone went to the Whitney Plantation in Louisiana, I don’t necessarily want them doing puckered-lip selfies in front of a slave cabin. I can understand why people wouldn’t want those places engaged with in that way, but you do want tourists to come, right? I mean, before the pandemic, 900,000 people visited Dachau every year, and part of what brings people to Dachau is seeing and taking a picture of the crematorium, taking a picture of themselves on this land in that space where history happened, and posting it online. And maybe that serves as a catalyst for somebody else to make that journey for themselves.
You did go to Dachau, which you call a “memorial to the evil that once transpired there.”
I am a huge believer in putting your body in the place where history happened. I stood in many places that carry the history of violence: plantations, execution chambers, death row. But I’ve never experienced the feeling in my body that I felt when I stood in the gas chamber at Dachau. And you just see the way that this space was constructed, with the sort of intentional, mechanized slaughter that it was meant to enact on people. The industrialized nature of it was something unlike anything I’d ever experienced before and it made me feel so much more proximate to that history in ways that I don’t think I would have ever experienced otherwise.
Physically standing in a concentration camp and physically standing and putting my body in the gas chamber fundamentally changed my understanding of the emotional texture and the human and psychological implications of it. Because when you’re in those spaces you’re able to more fully imagine what it might have been like to be in that space. And then you can imagine these people, these families, these women, these children who were marched into camps throughout Europe. You can never fully imagine the fear, that sense of desperation that one would have felt, but in some ways, it’s the closest we can get to it if you are someone who did not have family who lived through or survived the Holocaust. It provided me with a radical sense of empathy. And that’s why I took the trip in the first place.
A tourist takes a selfie inside the Memorial to the Murdered Jews Of Europe in Berlin, Sept. 25, 2019. (Beata Zawrzel/NurPhoto via Getty Images)
By contrast, there are the memorials that are not historical sites, but either sculptural or architectural, like Berlin’s Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, nearly five acres of concrete slabs. What do you think makes an effective memorial that isn’t necessarily the historical place itself, but a specifically memorial project?
Well, for example, the big one in Berlin. It’s just so enormous. The scale and scope of it was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. I tried to imagine what an American analog would be like. What if in the middle of downtown Manhattan there was a 200,000-square-foot memorial, with thousands of stone columns, dedicated to commemorating the lives of indigenous people who were killed in the early Americas? Or a 200,000-square-foot memorial in the middle of downtown D.C., not far from the White House, to the lives of enslaved people?
With that said, what I found really valuable were the people I spoke to, who had very different relationships to that space. Some thought of that memorial as something that was so meaningful because of its size and because of its scope, and because it was a massive state-sanctioned project. And then there were others who thought that it was too abstract, that it was too passive, even in its name, right, the “Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe,” which sounds as if something happened to people without naming the people who enacted the harm and who committed the crime. Those are the sort of nuances and complexities that I wanted to spend more time with, and found really valuable because, in the same way, descendants of enslaved people here in the United States have many different conceptions of what the iconography of slavery should look like or what repair and reparations to slavery should be made.
You write about the “stumbling stones” or “Stolpersteine”: Those are the small brass plaques placed in the streets, inscribed with the names of Holocaust victims and placed in front of their last known residence. The stones are exactly the opposite scale of the Berlin memorial.
Right. I think that is the memorial that I was most struck by: the largest decentralized memorial in the world, with 90,000 stones across 30 different European countries. I remember the moment I was walking down the street looking for landmarks and saw my first Stolpersteine, and I only saw it because at that moment the clouds moved and the sun shone off the brass stone. You see the name, the birth date, the deportation date, the death date, the place where the person was killed. You walk past another home, you see seven; you walk past another home, you see 12. You begin to imagine entire lives based on the names and information that exist on these stones. It creates this profound sense of intimacy, this profound sense of closeness to the history and it’s so human, because it’s individual people and individual names.
One of the most valuable things about the stumbling stone project, I think, is all the work that precedes it. It’s the school students who are doing research to find out about the lives of the people who were taken from the home across the street from their school. It’s the people in the apartment complex, who come together and decide that they’re going to figure out who were the Jewish families who lived in that apartment complex before them. And sometimes it’s really remarkable, granular details about people’s lives: what their favorite food was, what their favorite flavor of ice cream was, what the child liked.
Artist Gunter Demnig lays “stumbling stones” that memorialize persecuted or murdered Jews on the streets of Frankfurt. (Boris Roessler/picture alliance via Getty Images)
As Gunter Demnig, the originator of the project, says, 6 million people is a huge abstraction, and now it becomes about one man, one woman, one child, and [people] realize that it truly was not that long ago. There are so many survivors of the Holocaust who are still with us. Gunter Demnig, his father fought for the German army. He represents this generation of people who are engaging in a sort of contrition for the acts of their parents and their grandparents.
You ask in the piece what it would look like for a similar project to be created in the United States as a memorial to enslaved people.
I’m from New Orleans, and the descendant of enslaved people in New Orleans, which was at one point the busiest slave market in the country. And as Barbara Steiner, a Jewish historian, said to me in Germany, entire streets [of New Orleans] would be covered in brass stones! That was such a striking moment for me. That helped me more fully realize the profound lack of markers and iconography and documentation that we have to enslaved people in our landscape here in the United States relative to that of Germany.
Why are physical monuments important? I have sometimes wondered why we spend so much money on the infrastructure of memory — statues, museums, memorials — and if that money could be better used for living memorials, like scholarships for the descendants of victims, say, or programs that study or archive evidence of genocide. Why is it important to see a statue or a museum or even a plaque?
First off, museums and statues and memorials and monuments are by no means a panacea. It is not the case that you put up some memorials or you lay down some Stolpersteine and suddenly antisemitism is gone. Obviously, Germany is a case study and is experiencing its own rise in antisemitism. And that’s something that’s deeply unsettling, and is not going to singularly be solved by memorials and monuments.
With that said, I think there is something to be said to regularly encounter physical markers and manifestations of the violence that has been enacted and crimes that have been done in your name, or to the people that you are the descendant of. I try to imagine Germany without any of these memorials and I think it would just be so much easier for antisemitism to become far more pervasive. Because when your landscape is ornamented by things that are outlining the history that happened there, it is much more difficult to deny its significance, it is much more difficult to deny that it happened, it is much more difficult not to have it shape the way you think about public policy. I do believe that if we had these sorts of markers in the United States, it wouldn’t solve the racial wealth gap, it wouldn’t solve racism, it wouldn’t solve discrimination. It wouldn’t eradicate white nationalism or white supremacy. But I do think it would play some role in recalibrating and reshaping our collective public consciousness, our collective sense of history in ways that would not be insignificant.
And to your point, my hope is that those things are never mutually exclusive. It’s a conversation that’s happening here in the United States with regard to how different institutions are accounting for their relationship to slavery. Universities are coming up with reports, presentations, panels and conferences that outline their relationship to the history of slavery, especially since the murder of George Floyd [in 2020]. Activists and descendants have pushed them to not just put out a report, or put up a plaque or make a monument. It’s also about, well, what are you going to do for the descendants of those people? Harvard, where I went to grad school, put $100 million aside specifically for those sorts of interventions. Places like Georgetown have made it so that people who were the descendants of those who are enslaved have specific opportunities to come to the school without paying. And people of good faith can disagree over whether those initiatives are commensurate with or enough to atone for that past, and I think the answer is almost inevitably no.
Certainly people on what we like to think of as the wrong side of history understood the importance of physical monuments in creating memory.
The origin story of my own book was that I watched the monuments come down in 2017, in my hometown in New Orleans, of Jefferson Davis, Robert E. Lee. I was thinking about what it meant that I grew up in a majority Black city, and there were more homages to enslavers than there were to enslaved people. What does it mean that to get to school I had to go down Robert E. Lee Boulevard? That to get to the grocery store, I had to go down Jefferson Davis Parkway? That my middle school was named after a leader of the Confederacy? And that my parents still live on a street today named after someone who owned 115 enslaved people? The names and iconography are reflective of the stories that people tell and those stories shaped the narratives that communities carry. And those narratives shape public policy and public policy is what shapes the material conditions of people’s lives.
One thing about Germany is that its national project of memory and repentance has been accompanied by a vast reparations program — for Israel, Jewish survivors, their families and programs to propagate Jewish culture. I wonder if you think Germany could have moved ahead without reparations? And can America ever fully grapple with the legacy of slavery without its own reparations?
The short answer is no. America cannot fully move forward from its past without reparations. The important thing is not to be limited and reductive in the way that we conceive of what reparations are or should look like. In some ways, I’m as interested if not more interested in what specific cities and states are doing in order to account for those histories and those crimes. For example, in Evanston, Illinois, they created a specific program to give reparations to Black families who experienced housing segregation, in a certain period of time, given how prevalent redlining was in and around Chicago in the mid-20th century. I know in Asheville, North Carolina, there’s a similar program that’s thinking about how to meaningfully engage in repair to the descendants of communities that were harmed from some of the policies that existed there. This is not to say that those programs themselves are perfect. But I think we sometimes talk about it so much on a federal level, that we forget the local opportunities that exist.
West German Chancellor Konrad Adenauer signs the reparations agreement between his country and Israel, Sept. 10, 1952. (United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, courtesy of Benjamin Ferencz, from “Reckonings”)
Many people who were redlined or experienced housing covenants — all the sort of insidious manifestations of wealth extraction that were part of Jim Crow — are still alive today. So sometimes it’s not even a question of what you have to give the descendants. Sometimes it’s like, what do you give the actual people who are still here?
That’s an important distinction you make in your article, about the difference between grappling with the past in Germany and the United States. In Germany, there are so few Jews, while in the U.S. we see the living evidence of slavery, not the evidence of absence.
That’s perhaps the greatest difference that allows for both a landscape of memory to be created in Germany, and also allows for Germany to pay reparations in ways that the United States is reluctant to do: Jewish people in Germany represent less than one quarter of one percent of the population of Germany. One of the folks I spoke to told me that Jewish people in Germany are a historical abstraction. Because there’s so few Jewish people left, because of the slaughter of the Holocaust. I think about the reparations that were given to Japanese Americans who were held in incarceration camps during World War II. They got $20,000 checks, which is not commensurate with what it means to be held in a prison camp for multiple years, and cannot totally atone for that. But part of the reason that can be enacted is that there’s a limited amount of people. There are 40 million black people in this country. So the economic implications of reparations are something fundamentally different here in the United States.
So let me ask you if there’s anything else you wanted to mention that we haven’t talked about.
I want to name specifically for your readers that I’m not and would never intend to conflate slavery and the Holocaust. They are qualitatively different historical phenomena that have their own specific complexities and should be understood on their own terms. With that said, I do think it can be helpful to put the two in conversation with one another, specifically in the profound ways that these two monumental periods of world history have shaped the modern world and how they are remembered in fundamentally different ways.
And there are similarities as well, which you write about.
I did find so many parallels. The Jewish people I spent time with in Germany explained that some of the manifestations of racism and anti-Blackness in the United States are not so different from the sort of manifestations of antisemitism that exist in Germany, especially as it relates to public memory. When I was at the museum devoted to the Wannsee conference, the executive director, Deborah Hartmann, told me that she and Deidre Berger [the chair of the executive board of the Jewish Digital Cultural Recovery Project Foundation] were talking about how Jewish people did not always have a seat at the table when these monuments and memorials were being built. Jewish people were not allowed to participate beyond a certain extent, because many Germans felt that Jewish people were not objective. Jewish historians couldn’t be taken seriously because they were too close to the history.
That just echoes so much of what Black scholars and historians have been told about their ability, or the lack thereof, to study the history of Black life. The godfather of African-American scholarship, W.E.B. Du Bois, was told by white scholars that he couldn’t be taken seriously because he was too close to the history of slavery.
Meanwhile, Deborah Hartmann talked about how so many of the historians and scholars who played a role in shaping the landscape of memory in Germany were themselves “close to the history,” including former members of the Hitler Youth.
Somebody sent me a message that really meant a lot to me this past week, basically saying that my essay is an exercise in “solidarity via remembrance” — in a moment where, unfortunately, there have been a lot of public manifestations of ideas and antisemitic remarks that might threaten to rupture a relationship between Black and Jewish people. Obviously, we didn’t time it this way: I worked on this piece for a year. But it’s my hope that as someone who is a Black American, who is the descendant of enslaved people, who is not himself Jewish — that my respectful, empathic, curious, journey reflects the long history of solidarity that has existed across Black and Jewish communities and that that I hope we never lose sight of.
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‘He made Black Jews not invisible anymore; he was the bridge’
Rabbi Capers C. Funnye, Jr. rabbi and spiritual leader of Beth Shalom B’nai Zaken Ethiopian Hebrew Congregation in Chicago, and the Chief Rabbi of the International Israelite Board of Rabbis, died Nov. 2 at the age of 74.
A cousin of Michelle Obama and an important leader for Black Jews in America, Funnye was raised in the African Methodist Episcopal Church and converted to Conservative Judaism. He held leadership positions in Chicago’s Jewish community and was a consultant to many cultural institutions throughout the United States.
“I’ve known him my whole life,” said Rabbi Tamar Manasseh said. “There is nothing that prepares you for this. I think it’s really important for people to know that he made Black Jews not invisible anymore. He was the bridge.”
“At that time it was not the priority for other Black Jews, but for him it was the priority,” Manasseh continued. “There were a million times that he was uncomfortable to one day bring comfort to us all.”
Funnye was born in 1952, in Georgetown, South Carolina, and attended Howard University. He received a B.A. in Hebrew literature and a rabbinic ordination from the Israelite Board of Rabbis, Inc., in Queens, New York, and a B.A. in Jewish studies and an M.A. in human services administration from the Spertus Institute of Jewish Studies, in Chicago.
In 1995, Funnye, Michelle Stein-Evers and Robin Washington (an editor-at-large at The Forward) founded the Alliance of Black Jews.
Funnye became the first African American member of the Chicago Board of Rabbis in 1997, and was named Chief Rabbi of the International Israelite Board of Rabbis, in New York in 2015.
He also served as a rabbi for congregations in Nigeria, Uganda, and other sub-Saharan African nations.
“Rabbi Capers Funnye was my ‘rebbe’ for connecting with the Black community and for understanding how important it is to bring the Black Jewish community to the very center of the Jewish community,” said Rabbi Asher Lopatin.
“I was inspired as he fought hard to gain acceptance as a full member of the Chicago Board of Rabbis and then succeeded in getting full membership in the New York Board of Rabbis and opening up the New York Board of Rabbis to graduates of the Israelite Rabbinical Academy,” Lopatin said. “I will never forget his passion, his brilliance, his insight and his love for Judaism, the Jewish community and Israel. May his memory be a blessing.”
“It was an honor to welcome Rabbi Funnye and members of the International Israelite Board of Rabbis to become part of our rabbinic family. His steadfast commitment to group relations helped us to better understand the dynamics of the Black Jewish community,” said Rabbi Joseph Potasnik, executive vice president of the New York Board of Rabbis. “May we continue to perpetuate his legacy.”
“Rabbi Funnye has touched countless lives with his spiritual leadership, wisdom, and unwavering commitment to our congregation and the broader Hebrew Israelite community. His legacy of faith, service, and dedication will continue to inspire generations,” Beth Shalom B’nai Zaken Ethiopian Hebrew Congregation wrote on its Facebook page.
The post ‘He made Black Jews not invisible anymore; he was the bridge’ appeared first on The Forward.
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Top Jewish lawyers quit Indiana ACLU amid controversy over new director
Four attorneys have resigned from the ACLU of Indiana amid concerns over the incoming executive director’s approach to free speech and allegations of antisemitism.
Legal director Kenneth Falk, a prominent Jewish civil rights lawyer who has twice argued before the U.S. Supreme Court, along with deputy legal director Gavin Rose, senior staff attorney Stevie Pactor and staff attorney Josh Bleisch, all resigned in recent weeks, the ACLU of Indiana’s board confirmed in a statement to the Forward. Their resignations were first reported by the Indy Star.
The concerns center on Nikkita Oliver, a lawyer and longtime Seattle activist who was announced in June as the next executive director of the ACLU of Indiana.
Oliver, who posted a Palestinian flag on Instagram about two weeks after Oct. 7, 2023, alongside quotes about oppressed peoples’ “right to resist,” made comments during a July meeting that a former staff member interpreted as questioning Jewish attorneys’ ability to represent pro-Palestinian activists fairly.
Oliver, who uses they/them pronouns, also said they objected to the ACLU’s landmark legal defense of neo-Nazis’ right to march in Skokie, Illinois in 1977, which raised questions for some former staff about whether Oliver was committed to defending free speech irrespective of ideology.
Oliver’s original start date of Sept. 1 has been pushed back as the ACLU of Indiana conducts a third-party investigation “to establish the facts.”
“It is distressing that a small group of staff who have, at most, interacted with me once seem to have generated these rumors and false allegations,” Oliver wrote in a statement to the Forward, adding that they “welcome a fair, third-party review.”
A disputed meeting
The wave of resignations followed a July “get to know you” coffee conversation between Oliver and Neil Hudelson, ACLU of Indiana’s director of philanthropy at the time.
Hudelson told the Forward that during that meeting, Oliver brought up a 2016 free speech case involving pro-Palestinian student activists at Indiana University, which the ACLU had declined to take. Two community members had reached out about the case after their hiring was announced, Oliver said.
Hudelson said he was unfamiliar with the case, or why the ACLU might have decided not to pursue it, and asked Oliver for details, which Oliver said they didn’t know. Hudelson then recalled explaining to Oliver that the ACLU of Indiana has repeatedly defended pro-Palestinian activists’ right to free speech.
Where the conversation took a turn, according to Hudelson, was when Oliver said three times that it was “very interesting” that the ACLU had declined to take the case.
The two parties’ interpretations of the interaction differ.
Hudelson’s interpretation was that Oliver viewed the organization’s Jewish attorneys, who had vigorously defended pro-Palestinian activists’ free speech rights, as biased against Palestinians.
“It’s not hard to know that 50% of our legal team at the time was Jewish,” Hudelson, who is not Jewish himself, told the Forward. “The fact they kept repeating, just finding it ‘very interesting,’ struck me as antisemitic.”
While Oliver also recalled bringing up the 2016 case, they disputed the idea that it had anything to do with the attorneys’ religious background.
“I am a direct person who says exactly what I mean without hedging,” Oliver said in a written statement documenting their recollection of the meeting. “I did not intend or insinuate anything beyond providing an example of a meritorious case the affiliate did not take.”
Hudelson filed a complaint at the time about the interaction and said he hoped the matter would be resolved with a private investigation.
Tensions flare
Pactor, one of the Jewish attorneys who resigned, told the Forward she had raised concerns about Oliver’s commitment to the ACLU’s nonpartisan mission. (The legal arm of the ACLU must refrain from intervening in political campaigns in order to maintain its 501(c)(3) tax-exempt status.)
Pactor said she filed a complaint expressing concern over a comment Oliver made during a meeting with her in July about wanting to turn Indiana “light red.”
In a statement to the Forward, Oliver said by turning the state “light red,” they meant ensuring equal access to voting, which “naturally shifts the political landscape away from an exclusive focus on a single party.” (Indiana has largely voted for Republicans for president.) Oliver also noted that Pactor was in the running to become executive director but was not selected.
For Pactor, those concerns were compounded by Oliver’s social media history.
Less than two weeks after the Oct. 7 attacks, Oliver posted a Palestinian flag to Instagram and quoted author Arundhati Roy, who said “People have the right to resist annihilation.” Oliver added in the post that Martin Luther King Jr. “began to see the limits of non-violent protest” toward the end of his life.
“I am heartbroken and angry,” Oliver wrote at the time. “If we want the violence to stop, we must stop the root cause. This means ending the occupation of Palestine by Zionist Israel, supporting Palestinian liberation and ending the apartheid state.”
The ACLU of Indiana board defended the post to the Forward as “an intellectual critique of power dynamics, not an incitement of violence.”
After two Israeli embassy staff, Yaron Lichinsky and Sarah Milgrim, were shot and killed outside the Capital Jewish Museum in May 2025, Oliver reposted this message on their Instagram story: “20k children dead: violence is okay. 2 israeli embassy staff members dead: violence is not okay anymore.”
In another post, after the May 2026 shooting at the Islamic Center of San Diego that killed three people, Oliver reshared an image on their Instagram story calling the attack “the direct result of white supremacist, Zionist and anti-Muslim rhetoric being pushed by the state and media.”
Blaming the mosque attack on “Zionist” rhetoric without evidence was concerning, Pactor said, especially since the two teenage gunmen had expressed neo-Nazi views in writings they left behind.
In a statement to the Forward addressing their social media posts, Oliver wrote, “These posts speak to the double standard that can exist in the media when some deaths are deemed tragic, and others are deemed necessary. All life is precious. I understand that, outside of free speech, pro-Palestine advocacy is not within the ACLU of Indiana’s portfolio, and I do not intend to change that.”
On Sept. 27, a group of 79 Jews across the country who identified themselves as “organizers for Palestinian rights” submitted a letter of support for Oliver, writing that they could “attest that Nikkita [Oliver] explicitly and consistently cares about the safety of Jewish people.”
Tensions continued to flare among the ACLU staff, culminating in a Sept. 29 board meeting attended by Hudelson, who said board members said Oliver was the victim of false allegations.
Hudelson said he was fired two days later. The board said it would not comment on the details of personnel matters but noted that one employee was fired “for cause.”
Pactor resigned a few weeks later, on Oct. 19.
The Skokie question
Oliver also brought a perspective to free speech advocacy that appeared to diverge from the ACLU’s longstanding tradition of defending the rights of even the most objectionable speakers.
In 1977, the ACLU famously represented neo-Nazis who wanted to march through Skokie, Illinois, a heavily Jewish suburb of Chicago that has been home to many Holocaust survivors. The neo-Nazis never ended up marching, though they won the legal right to do so in court — with Jewish ACLU attorney David Goldberger arguing on the neo-Nazis’ behalf.
The ACLU’s decision to defend the rights of neo-Nazis was controversial; at the time, many Jewish lawyers resigned in protest. But it also helped establish the organization’s credibility as a group committed to the principle of free speech for all.
The ACLU has repeatedly reaffirmed its decision in the Skokie case. Today, the ACLU website notes that many consider the Skokie case “one of the ACLU’s finest hours.”
Oliver told Hudelson during their July meeting that they disagreed with how the ACLU handled the case.
“If I had been the head of the ACLU during Skokie, I would have found a different approach through integrated advocacy — such as submitting an amicus brief on the First Amendment — that protected the free speech of all without subjecting a Jewish community to potential harm,” Oliver wrote in their account of the meeting with Hudelson.
That approach conflicts with the way the ACLU has historically operated. Falk, who had served as legal director at the Indiana ACLU since 1996 before resigning, is among those Jewish free speech lawyers who have represented clients many find unsavory. He has argued on behalf of the Ku Klux Klan on multiple occasions, including when the hate group wanted to host a rally at the Gary, Indiana City Hall.
“If we don’t stand up for the rights of everyone, even people we don’t necessarily personally agree with, all of our rights are diminished,” Falk told The Indiana Lawyer in May. (The Forward was unable to reach Falk for comment.)
Hudelson and Pactor both told the Forward they were concerned by Oliver’s approach.
“Ken was always saying, ‘You don’t know what it’s like until your rabbi has to ask you why you have the Grand Wizard of the KKK in your office,’” Hudelson said. “But that’s what we do. We’re the ACLU.”
In a statement, the board said the ACLU of Indiana was not changing its approach to free speech litigation.
“I understand that under the law hate speech is free speech, and I believe in the ACLU’s mandate to protect all people’s civil liberties and civil rights,” Oliver wrote in a statement to the Forward. “I am aware of the ACLU’s stance and understand the difference between the affiliate’s work and my own frameworks and political leanings.”
The third-party investigation is set to be completed in November.
The post Top Jewish lawyers quit Indiana ACLU amid controversy over new director appeared first on The Forward.
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Arab parties are kingmakers, but will Israel’s Jewish leaders accept them?
(JTA) — JERUSALEM – Less than an hour after election night exit polls were published, Mansour Abbas, the leader of the Islamist Ra’am party, whose representation was predicted to almost double, declared: “We will translate this electoral power into an influential political force … we’re here — not on the sidelines.”
With all the votes now counted, Ra’am has indeed grown from five to eight seats, while the other Arab party, the Joint List, has received 11. Their combined unprecedented 19 seats out of a total of 120 in Israel’s parliament, the Knesset, now make the Arab parties a powerful force and one that could potentially break the political deadlock after neither the bloc led by Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu nor the opposition bloc led by Gadi Eisenkot have enough seats to form a governing coalition.
A record number of Arab-Israelis voted in last Tuesday’s election, signaling for the first time in Israel’s history that the country’s Arab public, which makes up around 21% of the general population, is demanding to be counted in Israel’s political process.
The question, now, is whether Israel’s Jewish political leaders — and the public they represent — are ready to accept them as legitimate partners in governing the country.
“The Arab parties managed to produce an historic turnout in the Arab community, a reflection of this population joining Israeli democracy and the democratic process, and their desire to see their issues being taken care of by the Israeli government and political system,” Yohanan Plesner, president of the Israel Democracy Institute, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
“But while they performed phenomenally and beyond any expectation, it’s still too early to tell whether the massive expectations that led Israeli Arab voters to the streets will actually be met by a political system willing to respond to this desire,” he said.
The record voter turnout among Arab-Israeli citizens breaks with a decades-old tradition of shunning Israel’s political institutions in protest over the conflict with the Palestinians – many themselves identify as Palestinian citizens of Israel – and a feeling that whoever is in power will not truly address their needs.
After four years of a government dominated by far-right Israeli nationalists, however, Arab voters felt they had no choice but to step up, analysts told JTA. It was not only the inflammatory rhetoric and attacks on the Arab community by senior government ministers that drove up turnout to some 80% – compared to only 53.2% in the last election in 2022 – but also the outgoing government’s policies.
Minister of National Security Itamar Ben-Gvir, who prior to his political career was convicted for incitement to racism, has overseen mass demolitions of illegally built homes, especially in the Bedouin towns in Israel’s Negev region, and failed to address soaring crime rates in Arab towns.
Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich has threatened to force the Arab population in Israel out of the land, outlining in September a plan to Judaize Arab-majority areas in Israel’s periphery. In one recent case, he even backed young Israeli Jews who set up an illegal outpost inside an Israeli-Arab town.
It is such moves, as well as multiple statements casting suspicion on Israel’s Arab sector, especially following Hamas’s Oct. 7, 2023, massacre in southern Israel, that ultimately pushed the community to vote en masse, according to experts on the Arab community. Many cast ballots for the first time.
“It was an existential fear,” said Michael Milshtein, head of the Palestinian Studies Forum at the Moshe Dayan Center at Tel Aviv University, who has researched political trends in Israel’s Arab community for years.
He pointed to a poll published following the election by Arabic-language newspaper Kul al-Arab showing that nearly 92% of Arab voters said that the main thing driving them out to vote was the fear of Smotrich and Ben-Gvir.
“It’s an almost unprecedented motivation,” he said. “But it can also be a formula for a cascade of expectations.”
Among those expectations now is that Israel’s majority Jewish parties that have promised change in the country – and promised to oust Netanyahu and his far-right partners – will include Arab parties or at least make use of this electoral momentum.
The political party Ra’am, which has roots in the Muslim Brotherhood, has already shown a willingness to join the government. The party, which focuses on social welfare issues and fighting crime, already broke down barriers in 2021 by joining former prime ministers Naftali Bennett and Yair Lapid in a government that briefly ousted Netanyahu.
For the Joint List, an alliance of three majority Arab parties focusing on socialist politics, civic equality for Arab citizens of Israel and Palestinian nationalism, joining an Israeli government or even providing it with a safety net from the outside is a big step.
All three parties – Hadash, a left-wing socialist party, Ta’al, a party promoting Arab civic rights and equality, and Balad, which represents pan-Arab nationalism – hold at their core the fight for Palestinian rights and national statehood.
Yet at least two of the parties, Hadash and Ta’al, have indicated a willingness to put some of their agenda aside in order to help change Israel’s current leadership.
“We are ready for political cooperation to form an alternative government that will present a genuine alternative and commit to a fundamental change in the current government’s racist policies,” Yousef Jabareen, head of the Joint List, said as votes were being counted on Thursday. “A government that will work to recognize the rights of the Arab public and end its exclusion, and that of its representatives, from the political system.”
However, Gadi Taub, a professor at Hebrew University of Jerusalem and co-host of the Israel Update podcast, called including such parties in Israel’s government “ridiculous.”
“These parties are anti-Zionist, they are against the very existence of Israel and some of them are direct terror supporters,” he said, referring to statements made by Balad’s leader Sami Abu Shehade after Oct. 7, which he later walked back.
“None of them will designate Hamas as a terror organization, even after Oct. 7,” noted Taub, adding that Israeli law should forbid parties that are openly against a Jewish state from running for parliament.
He pointed out that attempts to ban the Arab parties from running in this election were ultimately blocked by Israel’s Supreme Court, although Shehade did withdraw from the race. No other country would tolerate political leaders that “do not acknowledge the self-determination” of the country they live in, said Taub.
Including Arab parties in a government is something that was not even considered by Jewish or Zionist-focused parties until the offer came from Ra’am in 2021. In fact, there have only ever been two Muslim Arab ministers, Ghaleb Majadele, a member of the Labor Party, who served under former prime minister Ehud Olmert and Issawi Frej, from the Meretz Party who served from June 2021 to December 2022.
Three years after Oct. 7, when fear and mistrust of Arabs because of the attack remain high, the idea of aligning politically with Arab politicians who openly advocate for Palestinians is even more complex.
While Netanyahu and his coalition partners painted such a collaboration as an existential threat for the state in the lead-up to last week’s vote, almost all the parties in Eisenkot’s bloc, except for the Democrats headed by Yair Golan, also ruled out the possibility.
Mairav Zonszein, a senior Israel analyst with the International Crisis Group, said it was difficult to evaluate whether Israeli society as a whole was now ready for such political influence from Arab Israelis, but said the more pertinent question was whether Eisenkot and his political partners, Naftali Bennett and Avigdor Lieberman, were ready for it.
“This is pretty much their only option if they want to get rid of Benjamin Netanyahu,” she said. “The main question is how important it is for them to remove Netanyahu that they would be willing to compromise on something that they made a frontline issue?”
Zonszein added that even center-left former prime minister Yair Lapid, whom she characterized as pragmatic in every other way in his efforts to oust Netanyahu, has stated that he would not work with the Arabs.
She called lumping the entire sector together “outrageous.”
“It really defies the very notion of a democracy,” Zonszein said, accusing Netanyahu of dismissing “Palestinians just for being Palestinians, regardless of the fact that they are law-abiding citizens, that they pay taxes and are present in all aspects of the workforce.”
Throughout Election Day, the embattled Netanyahu published a stream of video clips declaring that Arabs were “flocking” to the polls. He told his supporters that if they did not want an Islamist state in Israel, then they’d better get out and vote for him.
Analysis by some fact-checkers has since revealed that many of the images Netanyahu used to scare his voters were in fact AI-generated fakes.
Tani Frank, director of the Shalom Hartman Institute’s Center for Judaism and State Policy, argued that the delegitimization of the Arab vote was one of the “focal points of the Likud campaign.”
“One reason for this is to weaken the ability of the change bloc to form a government with the support of, or reliance on, the Arab parties — specifically Ra’am and Mansour Abbas, who has already done so previously,” he said.
Frank said he believed that the willingness of Jewish Israelis to accept cooperation with Arab parties, especially after Oct. 7 and the Likud campaign, was extremely limited.
A few days before the election, a snap poll conducted by the Israel Democracy Institute found that “a clear majority of Israeli Jews opposed either Arab party playing a role in any government.”
While a majority of those on the left said that they would support a coalition of center and left-wing parties with the support or participation of the Arab parties, those in the center and right preferred another round of voting rather than forming a coalition with them.
Since the election, Netanyahu and his supporters have tried to cast doubt on the mass Arab turnout and on the legitimacy of the Arab political leadership. This has included accusations by members of his Likud party of voter fraud and foreign interference from Qatar, followed by statements Thursday from the Central Elections Committee that it was investigating foreign funding irregularities.
Netanyahu wrote in a post on X: “The elections in the State of Israel were stolen by Arab parties that support terrorism and the elimination of the Jewish state, through serious criminal offences involving bribery, threats, violence, forgery and the use of prohibited software to mobilize voters.”
Supreme Court Justice Noam Sohlberg, head of the elections committee, said on Sunday at a press conference with the country’s attorney general and the director of the Israel Security Agency, the Shin Bet, that the investigation into alleged foreign funding was serious and ongoing but would not change the results.
“Our position is that even if the suspicions are substantiated, this would not undermine the integrity of the electoral process or the election results as a whole,” he said.
On Saturday night, protests were held by both those against allowing Arabs into the government and those who believe it is the only way forward. A small group of those who are against such a move gathered in Tel Aviv chanting that Israel must not allow “terror supporters into the government.” Much larger groups of protesters in favor of a collaboration gathered around the country urging Eisenkot to take the step.
Mohamed Darawshe, a political analyst and director of strategy at Givat Haviva, a leading center educating for a shared society in Israel, said that if after the massive turnout on Election Day the Arab parties were not included in a change government, there would be great “disappointment.”
“If they are blocked from the right wing, that is understandable. But if their natural partners in Jewish society block them, they will end up turning their back on the whole political scene,” he said.
Darawshe said such a scenario would make Arab society unlikely to participate in such numbers in future elections.
“It will be like a vote of no confidence in the Israeli political system and complete disbelief in the promise that Israel can offer political equality as promised in the Declaration of Independence,” he said.
Political equality, Darawshe pointed out, is “not just allowing Arab citizens to exercise their equal rights on the day of the elections, but also to exercise their rights the day after the election, meaning allowing them to be part of the coalition and not to create a glass ceiling at representation in parliament.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
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