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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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From Gaza to Ramallah: Palestinian Authority TV Erases Hamas Terror and Blames Israel
Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas looks on as he visits the Istishari Cancer Center in Ramallah, in the West Bank, May 14, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Mohammed Torokman
No matter which terror organization accepts responsibility for carrying out a terror attack in recent times — be it the Al-Aqsa Martyrs’ Brigades (Fatah’s terror branch), Islamic Jihad, or Hamas — the Palestinian Authority (PA) consistently lies, denies there ever was an attack, and repackages the killing of the terrorist as the murder of an innocent man.
In the latest example, Hamas was proud to take credit for a terror attack that wounded two people.
Hamas published a celebratory poster on its official Telegram channel, praising 18-year-old terrorist Muhammad Raslan Mahmoud Asmar who carried out a “heroic stabbing operation” near Ateret. Hamas framed the attack as “Jihad — victory or Martyrdom” and painted Asmar’s death as his “wedding” to virgins in Paradise.
Text on poster: “‘Among the believers are men true to what they promised Allah. Among them is he who has fulfilled his vow [to the death], and among them is he who awaits [his chance]. And they did not alter [the terms of their commitment] by any alteration’ [Quran 33:23, Sahih International translation]:
The Islamic Resistance Movement ‘Hamas’ leads to the wedding
Jihad fighter Martyr Muhammad Raslan Asmar
Who ascended to Heaven on Tuesday, Dec. 2, 2025, after carrying out a heroic stabbing operation
Near the settlement Ateret that sits on the lands of the northern Ramallah [district’s] villages
Which led to the wounding of 2 occupation [i.e., Israeli] soldiers.
This is Jihad – victory or Martyrdom” [emphasis added][“Hamas Movement – West Bank (reserve channel),” Telegram channel, Dec. 2, 2025]
The PA, however, at multiple times throughout the day, declared Asmar to have died in a policy of “summary executions” that Israel carries out “due to baseless excuses and pretexts:”
18:00
Text on screen: “Death as a Martyr of young [Muhammad Asmar] shot by the occupation northwest of Ramallah”
Official PA TV reporter: “In Beit Rima, from the early morning hours the Israeli occupation forces have imposed a strict siege on the village. They raided the village and began conducting a search operation … in the Martyr’s house… as part of a systematic policy they always employ against the families of the Martyrs …
At the same time, they are still holding the body of Martyr Muhammad Asmar, 18… under the pretext that he carried out a stabbing operation … as part of the systematic policy [Israel] employs to punish the families of the Martyrs. Furthermore, [Israel] prevents them … from conducting funeral ceremonies for them, as they deserve for their sacrifice and their deaths as Martyrs.” [emphasis added]
[Official PA TV, Dec. 2, 2025]
18:00
Official PA TV host: “Young Muhammad Raslan Mahmoud Asmar, 18, from the town of Beit Rima, was shot by the occupation and died as a Martyr northwest of Ramallah.” …
Official PA TV reporter: “A new Martyr has been added to the list of blood in Ramallah, while the criminals remain unpunished. Young Muhammad Raslan Asmar, 18, from Beit Rima was shot and died as a Martyr near the settlement of Ateret, before the occupation forces seized his body, as part of the ongoing policy of summary executions of residents.” [emphasis added]
[Official PA TV, Dec. 2, 2025]
20:00
Official PA TV newsreader: “Muhammad Raslan Asmar, 18, from Beit Rima was shot by the occupation and died as a Martyr.” …
Official PA TV reporter: “The Israeli escalation today, [Dec. 2, 2025,] comes due to baseless excuses and pretexts, in which it claimed that the young Martyr attempted to carry out a stabbing attack on the road leading to the main bypass road near the village of Umm Safa northwest of Ramallah, where young Muhammad Asmar, 18, was shot by the occupation and ascended to Heaven.”
[Official PA TV News, Dec. 2, 2025]
To PA TV, Asmar was not a terrorist, not an attacker, and not responsible for violence of any kind. Instead, viewers were told repeatedly that he was merely “shot by the occupation,” “executed,” and added to the “list of blood in Ramallah.”
This systematic cover-up of terrorism by the Palestinian Authority is not surprising.
The PA has never condemned the Hamas-led atrocities of Oct. 7, and when it addresses them at all, it limits itself to lamenting the consequences for Gaza — not the massacre itself. Against that backdrop, there was never any chance that the PA would acknowledge or condemn a Hamas attack near Ramallah. Just as it excuses, rationalizes, and erases Hamas’ responsibility for Oct. 7, the PA once again stripped a terrorist of all accountability, recast him as an innocent “Martyr,” and shifted every ounce of blame onto Israel — a deception in the service of terror.
Ephraim D. Tepler is a researcher at Palestinian Media Watch (PMW), where a version of this article first appeared.
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He researches antisemitism for a living. Why does the State Department want to kick him out of the country?
(JTA) — For years, Imran Ahmed has presented his research on how tech platforms enable the spread of antisemitism to receptive audiences across the ideological spectrum.
He’s worked with the Anti-Defamation League and Jewish Federations of North America; the latter credits Ahmed with the backbone of much of its own policy proposals. He’s appeared at a conference organized by the first Trump administration, with Mike Pompeo, the former secretary of state, and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu also in attendance.
He’s joined Republicans in advocating for an end to Section 230, a law granting special protections to social media platforms. During the first Trump administration, on the strength of his research, the British-born Ahmed received a priority visa as an “alien of extraordinary ability” — the so-called “Einstein visa,” after the German-born Jewish physicist.
All of that only added to Ahmed’s befuddlement when, just before Christmas, the current Trump State Department announced it would be revoking his visa because of what Secretary of State Marco Rubio tweeted were “egregious acts of extraterritorial censorship.”
“It is confusing,” Ahmed told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency on Friday, speaking from his home in Washington, D.C. “Certainly there was some alarm.”
The confusion came not least because Ahmed, as a legal permanent resident, no longer has a visa to revoke. He received an EB-1 visa, which provides a fast pathway to permanent residency, in January 2021, at the end of Trump’s first term and now has a green card.
Ahmed was different from the four other digital anti-hate activists named in the State Department announcement, all of whom are based in Europe. Since 2021, his organization, the Center for Countering Digital Hate, has been registered as a U.S. nonprofit — a status that he notes should confer First Amendment protections. Last year, the group reported $4.2 million in revenue.
Ahmed has received no formal notification of an effort to revoke his residency. Neither Rubio’s own tweet, nor a State Department press release announcing the sanctions, mentioned him. There’s just a tweet, from a State Department undersecretary, mentioning him by name as a “key collaborator with the Biden Administration’s effort to weaponize the government against U.S. citizens.”
The State Department did not answer questions about Ahmed’s case. “The Supreme Court and Congress have repeatedly made clear: the United States is under no obligation to allow foreign aliens to come to our country or reside here,” a spokesperson told JTA in a statement.
At a time of aggressive immigration enforcement activity that has ensnared others with green cards, Ahmed isn’t taking changes. He sought (and was granted) a legal restraining order to prevent the government from seizing him and moving him to an immigrant detention facility without trial, as officials have done to an estimated 59,000 migrants in the last year. On Monday he returned to court, petitioning to make the order permanent.
“We want to make sure that they can’t take me away from my friends, family and support network,” he said. He’s optimistic on that front. “I have faith in the courts, and I have faith that the rule of law is still intact in the United States.”
What happens next is anyone’s guess. But Ahmed’s ordeal has cast a cloud of uncertainty over the work of a trusted Jewish communal ally — and further muddled the Trump administration’s own stated commitment to fighting antisemitism.
“Absolutely fascist — and dangerous — effort by the admin to ban my colleague Imran Ahmed and others from the US,” Amy Spitalnick, head of the Jewish Council of Public Affairs, wrote on X last week.
Ahmed partnered with Spitalnick’s group on a report about the rise of antisemitic influencers on X after Oct. 7. “He’s dedicated his career to fighting online hate and extremism,” Spitalnick recently told JTA, noting the two had first connected after the 2017 “Unite the Right” march in Charlottesville, Virginia, during which one counter-protester was killed.
A columnist at Britain’s Jewish News also criticized the Trump administration’s targeting of Ahmed: “Imran Ahmed was a friend to America and an important voice in debates about free speech,” wrote David Hirsh. “He obeyed the law, just as the Americans he worked with obey the law, and he should be treated the same, while working in and contributing to the United States of America.”
The Trump administration has taken special pains to prevent immigration by Muslims, last month blocking visas for passport holders from 20 mostly Muslim countries and targeting Afghans especially after an Afghan national shot and killed a National Guard member in Washington in November.
Ahmed’s parents are Afghan, and in his column Hirsh called Ahmed, “a brilliant Muslim Brit.” Ahmed, who was born in England, has said that he now considers himself an atheist.
His allies see his case as part of a different Trump administration priority. Spitalnick told JTA the targeting of Ahmed was “all part of the broader weaponization of the federal government to go after perceived political enemies and advance an extremist agenda, which in this case is to push back against any regulation of tech.”
In the State Department’s targeting of him, Ahmed sees the handiwork of his longtime foes: the tech “oligarchs” who control the social media giants he seeks to rein in.
“This is quite clearly an attempt to silence the work that we do studying and exposing the way that social media platforms encourage, amplify and reward — with money — antisemitism and other forms of hate,” he said. “These guys have been lobbying aggressively in Washington long before President Trump was president. They’ve been invited to the White House and treated like demigods for decades now.”
Fighting antisemitism is central to the CCDH’s origin story, Ahmed said. A former staffer with the British Labour Party with plans to run for office himself, he quit after the 2015 ascension of Jeremy Corbyn, whom Ahmed calls “an avowed antisemite.” (Corbyn, who came to lead Labour amid a party overhaul that saw a massive influx of antisemitic sentiment, was suspended by his party over his handling of the antisemitism issue before ultimately being expelled in 2023.)
Ahmed wanted to understand why what he perceived as a newfound flurry of antisemitic social media activity seemed to follow Corbyn and his allies. He was also disturbed by the 2016 murder of Labour parliamentarian Jo Cox by a far-right figure associated with neo-Nazi groups who had been radicalized online. Together, he reasoned, there was something yet undiscovered about the role social media was playing in pushing out antisemitism across the political spectrum.
“This has always been an organization that, at its heart, has been trying to answer the question, how is it that ancient lies about Jews have been able to gain such purchase in our society?” he said. “And what can we do to change that?”
In the years since Ahmed founded the CCDH (which he relocated to the United States after receiving his green card), his group has published a series of papers on the various ways social media algorithms promote and reward antisemitism and other forms of hate speech. With the ADL, they published a 2023 report on Iranian state media’s use of social media to spread antisemitism. In November, with JFNA, they released a report on how Instagram has effectively monetized antisemitic content.
Ahmed presented those findings at JFNA’s annual meeting, in front of federation heads from around the country; he credits his work with helping groups like JFNA focus more of their attention on the problem of social media algorithms instead of individual bad actors online. A JFNA representative recently told JTA that Ahmed’s research has been integral to the umbrella group’s crafting of its own online antisemitism policy proposals.
“He is a valuable partner in providing accurate and detailed information on how the social media algorithms have created a bent toward antisemitism and anti-Zionism,” Dennis Bernard, a JFNA lay leader who heads their government relations efforts, told JTA.
Ahmed’s work has made him enemies, too. Elon Musk, the world’s richest man and head of X, sued the CCDH in 2023, alleging that it violated the X’s terms of service in gathering data for a report on its amplification of hate content. A judge threw the case out, but Ahmed isn’t so sure Musk — who wielded tremendous power over the federal government at the helm of Trump’s Department of Government Efficiency and remains close with administration figures, including the president — has moved on.
“I think it’s incredibly telling that the earliest and most vociferous reactions [to the visa sanction] were actually from people like Elon Musk, who himself has spread antisemitic lies and presided over the descent of this platform formerly known as Twitter into a hellscape of antisemitism,” he said. On X, Musk responded to news of the visa sanctions with fire emojis.
If the State Department is indeed targeting activists like Ahmed as a matter of policy, it would seem to be at odds with its newly confirmed special antisemitism envoy, Yehuda Kaploun. He recently indicated that he, too, wanted to see more restrictions on social media platforms that promote antisemitism.
“It makes it very confusing for them to claim foreign policy problems, which is what they’ve claimed, when U.S. foreign policy is to reduce antisemitism,” Ahmed said.
Another possibility: that the State Department’s targeting of Ahmed has to do with something else entirely. In her post blasting him, the public diplomacy undersecretary Sarah Rogers focused on a different research project the CCDH had undertaken during the COVID-19 pandemic.
“Ahmed’s group, Center for Countering Digital Hate (CCDH), created the infamous ‘disinformation dozen’ report, which called for platforms to deplatform twelve American ‘anti-vaxxers’, including now-HHS Secretary @SecKennedy,” Rogers wrote. She was referring to a 2021 CCDH report finding that Robert F. Kennedy, Jr., and 11 other anti-vaccine activists were responsible for more than 65% of all anti-vaccine content on social media. Kennedy, now Trump’s secretary of health and human services, also celebrated the visa restrictions on Ahmed and the others.
Ahmed dismisses the idea. “The pandemic is long over, so it would be very odd to be targeted for work that we did four years ago. That seems implausible to me,” he said.
He is convinced, instead, that he’s being singled out because he seeks to put guardrails on the big technology platforms more generally.
In their case to the judge for the restraining order, Ahmed’s lawyers — including prominent Jewish attorneys Roberta Kaplan and Norm Eisen — brought up one striking comparison: to the pro-Palestinian activist Mahmoud Khalil, a green-card holder detained for months for what the U.S. government argued was exhibiting support for terrorism. Ahmed insists his case and Khalil’s are nothing alike in substance; the government has so few cases of threatening the citizenship of green-card holders that a legal comparison just made sense, he said.
While Spitalnick has vocally rebuked the Trump administration over its targeting of Ahmed, his other Jewish partners have remained relatively quiet. Many Jewish organizations have found themselves torn since Trump took office as the administration has taken an aggressive stance on fighting antisemitism while also pursuing policies that Jewish communities have historically opposed, including barring immigration.
Bernard, while praising Ahmed’s work, also said JFNA would review its collaboration with him and, “if there’s something there we don’t know about,” would “terminate our relationship.”
The ADL, which has found itself in the Trump administration’s crosshairs, has not made any public statement about Ahmed’s case and did not respond to a request for comment for this story.
Ahmed isn’t bothered by any of this, though he is grateful for the Jewish support he has received. He says he’s received “hundreds of texts” from Jewish supporters, and even spent his first “Jewish Christmas” with some last month, chowing down on Chinese food and watching American football. Despite their years of collaboration, he didn’t expect the big Jewish names to come rushing publicly to his aid.
“I’m not asking anyone else to fight this fight for me,” he said, worried the spectacle will “distract us from the job” of pressuring tech platforms. “They’ve made this about me as a person. And when they can’t defeat the message, they go after the messenger.”
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He stormed the Capitol wearing a Camp Auschwitz sweatshirt 5 years ago. Where is he now?
A joint session of Congress peacefully certified President Donald Trump’s election victory last year on the date federally mandated: Jan. 6. But five years ago, after President Joe Biden won, the U.S. Capitol was overrun with people aiming to prevent a smooth transition of power.
Standing out among the mob of rioters was a long-haired, bearded man in a black hoodie with the words “Camp Auschwitz” emblazoned across the front.
Who was the ‘Camp Auschwitz’ rioter?
Robert Keith Packer, a former pipefitter and unlicensed plumber from Newport News, Virginia, gained national attention for wearing the sweatshirt. It had “STAFF” printed on the back, and a drawing of a skull and the phrase “Work Brings Freedom,” a translation of the slogan at the entrance of the Auschwitz concentration camp, on the front. The hoodie drew widespread condemnation.
“Why the instant notoriety?” asked the Forward’s Irene Katz Connelly the day after the attack. “The ‘Camp Auschwitz’ sweatshirt isn’t covetable or beautiful in any way. Even in the midst of a day full of shocks, it immediately stood out. But it is the absurd endpoint of extremism that disguises itself in styles we enjoy.”
Packer, who spent 36 minutes inside the Capitol, was arrested a week after the riot. When the FBI interviewed him about the outfit, he said he wore it because he was cold. Underneath the sweatshirt, he was wearing a “Schutzstaffel” shirt, referring to Adolf Hitler’s SS paramilitary unit.
The sweatshirt was indicative of a larger trend
Packer’s shirt stood out for its audacity, but it was not the only antisemitic symbol on display that day. Some people were also marching with a flag of Kekistan, a fake country created by members of the alt-right. The flag resembles a Nazi swastika. There was also imagery of Pepe the Frog, a cartoon amphibian which was co-opted by extremist groups and which the Anti-Defamation League labeled a hate symbol.
In the weeks leading up to the riot, the ADL reported on a Washington, D.C., demonstration of the Proud Boys, a far-right militant group, who were wearing T-shirts emblazoned with the initials 6MWE, short for “Six Million Wasn’t Enough.”
The nooses displayed on Jan. 6 evoke the “Day of the Rope,” described in the 1978 white supremacist novel The Turner Diaries by William Luther Pierce. The book is often regarded as a blueprint for far-right extremists and antisemites, and has been cited as an inspiration for various acts of violence — including the bombing of a federal building in Oklahoma City in 1995 and the 1984 murder of Alan Berg, a Jewish radio host.
How was Packer charged?
Packer, who was 56 at the time of the riot, was arrested and charged with unlawfully entering the Capitol and engaging in disorderly conduct. Federal police who conducted a search of his home found a whole host of Nazi and other white supremacist material, including “swastika artwork” and an “image of Hitler.”
Prosecutors said Packer was a “habitual criminal offender for 25 years with 21 convictions for mostly drunk driving, but also for larceny, drug possession, and forgery.”
Hoping for lenient sentencing, Packer’s sister said you can’t “judge a book by its cover.” Packer’s lawyer, Stephen Brennwald, compared his client to Forrest Gump, “a man who went through life almost as if he was outside of his body and mind, looking in.” Brennwald also argued that Packer’s sentence should be set by his actions, not his attire.
In Sep. 2022, a federal judge sentenced Packer to 75 days in jail and ordered him to pay $500 in restitution.
Where is Packer now?
Packer was pardoned last year by President Trump, along with about 1,500 other people charged with crimes related to Jan. 6.
Since then, Packer was arrested for an animal attack in Newport News. The September dog attack left four people hospitalized and requiring surgery, according to local reports.
Packer’s dogs were taken by animal control and Packer was taken to jail then released, but faces several charges, including a felony that could bring a five-year prison sentence, according to documents described by The Virginian-Pilot. At the time of the September attack, he also had charges pending from a separate May dog attack.
A hearing in Packer’s case is scheduled for Jan. 7.
The last time the Department of Justice updated their case file on Packer was in June 2023, when he tried to appeal his sentence, arguing that the “court erroneously considered the offensive T-shirt in fashioning the prison sentence.” The judge ruled it “moot” since Packer had already completed his prison term.
Are Camp Auschwitz sweatshirts still around?
Yes and no.
Packer may have brought the Camp Auschwitz sweatshirt to the public’s attention, but it has been around for over a decade, according to an extremism expert at the ADL. Copycat versions popped up online shortly after Packer wore it, but were taken down after complaints. A search today on Amazon, eBay, Etsy, Walmart and Zazzle found none available. A couple of off-brand sites are still offering Camp Auschwitz attire — including a tank top and a baby onesie.
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