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How the CEO of New York’s largest food bank is inspired by Jewish values

(New York Jewish Week) — At the Food Bank for New York City, one of the largest food banks in the country, the holiday season is crucial to ensuring New Yorkers have enough food to be able to live with dignity. 

Since its founding in 1983, the organization has provided over one billion meals to New Yorkers in need — as well as offering free SNAP assistance, tax preparation services and financial literacy programs to low-income residents. 

“Our central mission is that we feed people for today, but we have made significant investments in programming that truly helps to lift people out of poverty,” president and chief executive officer Leslie Gordon told the New York Jewish Week. “Because the reason why people are food insecure to begin with is a resource problem. It’s an inability to get connected to networks or resources, because of racist systems or policy issues.” 

Gordon, who is Jewish, has helmed the organization since 2020, and in some ways, rose to the role in a way that seemed inevitable. As a child, she loved to watch her grandfather sell meat, produce and other goods from the grocery store he owned in Tarrytown, New York, and deliver food donations to the needy. Her mother, who also grew up at the store, was the executive director at the Hunts Point Produce Market, the country’s largest wholesale produce market.

Prior to joining Food Bank for New York, Gordon held leadership roles at Feeding Westchester, a food bank network in Westchester County and City Harvest, which helps make fresh, nutritious food accessible around New York. Starting her job at the beginning of the pandemic, Gordon has overseen a doubling of the Food Bank for New York’s annual food distribution across the city from 70 million pounds to 150 million pounds. 

A fourth-generation Tarrytown resident, Gordon has been a member of the Conservative congregation Temple Beth Abraham her entire life. She lives in the same house that she, her grandfather and her mother grew up in, with her wife, two dogs and two cats.

The New York Jewish Week chatted with Gordon about her background, her favorite parts of the job and the Jewish family values that got her here. 

This interview has been lightly condensed and edited for length and clarity. 

After leadership roles at two other food banks, Gordon took over the top position at Food Bank for New York City in March 2020. She credits her Jewish family values for helping guide her. (Courtesy)

New York Jewish Week: How have your Jewish values guided you as the CEO of Food Bank for New York?

Leslie Gordon: The thing about my connection to Judaism at the Food Bank is really a personal responsibility around doing tikkun olam. It’s an ever-present, everyday commitment to making the world more just and equal through social action, which is what we do every day at Food Bank — helping New Yorkers across the five boroughs to have the resources they need to be able to have a stable, healthy life where they can thrive and look forward to working on achieving their dreams. 

Food is culture. Food is love. Food is history. Food has always been a big part of my personal Jewish experience — whether through holidays or through historical explorations. My grandfather was a butcher. He grew up in a small Jewish enclave in Rockland County called Pot Cheese Hollow [now Spring Valley], which is a sort of a European framing for all things cottage cheese.

You started this job right at the beginning of the pandemic. What was that like, and what was the path that led you to working at Food Bank?

I’ll never forget this: My first day was March 30, 2020. It was a little crazy to be the humble leader of one of the nation’s largest food banks at a time when the need was historically outsized and quickly escalated. It was a little bit of a challenge and, frankly, has been for most of my tenure.

Again, it goes back to my Jewish familial roots. I am carrying on a family legacy of feeding people: My grandfather, Norman Goldberg, was the son of European immigrants. When they came over [to America], and in his growing up years in that enclave in Rockland County, they were really, really poor. One of their biggest assets, believe it or not, was a dairy cow — no running water, no indoor plumbing. He would tell stories as kids that sometimes the only thing he ate in the course of a day was an apple that he picked off a neighboring farmer’s tree.

Fast forward many years into the future, he was a successful businessman, between a grocery store, a butcher store and a wine and liquor store, amongst other pursuits. He never forgot where he came from and he would talk to us about the importance of connecting people with food, and again doing tikkun olam. They would get phone calls from the rabbi at Temple Beth Abraham in Tarrytown, where they lived, because food banks and food pantries didn’t exist back then — the World War II era all the way through the 1950s, ’60s, and even ’70s. They would get a list of people in the community who needed help and [my grandfather] would take my mother by the arm and they would go to the local grocery store and shop. Frequently, as my mom tells it now, they’d end up in a local fourth-floor walk-up apartment building, ring the bell, drop the groceries and go, because you wanted to preserve the dignity of those whom you are helping. 

That really made an impression on me. My grandfather was also an avid backyard gardener and was famous for leaving those little brown lunch bags full of excess produce from his backyard garden on people’s stoops. 

My mother became the head of the world’s largest wholesale produce terminal, which is based in the Hunts Point section of South Bronx. I caught the bug on logistics and operations in food and really the romanticism of the food system. I’m still of that generation where I feel very connected to my local food system and farmers. I had a very unique growing up experience, where I got to see train cars full of broccoli or potatoes or other amazing produce that traveled through small towns and cities across the United States to land up in the South Bronx. So, I’ve been in the arena of food banking for about 15 years. I couldn’t have predicted it, I call it a happy accident. Of the 10 food banks in New York State, I’ve had the pleasure and honor of leading three of them.

What type of outreach do you do to New York’s Jewish community?

We’re a city of about 8.4 million people, and 1.6 million of them, give or take, are people who just don’t know where their next meal is coming from or what it will be. Ask yourself: Have you ever been hungry for a long period of time during the day? How do you deal with that? Imagine if that was your every day. That is compounded, potentially, by other struggles that you have. People don’t live single-issue lives. So, typically, when you’re food insecure, there are a lot of other issues that you’re grappling with — could be housing issues, could be mental health issues, could be employment or underemployment issues. There’s just a lot going on in the mix. New York City is a particularly expensive place to live. It’s a tough environment.

We’re the heart of a network of about 800 on-the-ground partners across the five boroughs. On nearly every street in nearly every neighborhood, our partners are food pantries, community kitchens, senior centers, shelters, community-based organizations like New York City Housing Authority or a Boys and Girls Club. In the case of the Jewish community, we have relationships with more than 40 on-the-ground agencies that specifically serve observant Jews. Organizations like Masbia, Alexander Rapoport’s restaurant-style soup kitchen that he’s now famous for. 

We’re serving one of the nation’s largest kosher observant populations in the U.S. right here in New York City. We’re committed to making sure that kosher-observing communities in Williamsburg, Midwood, Crown Heights, Coney Island, Lower East Side, etc., have access to good kosher food that they can feel good about. The number of Jews in New York City who struggle is just astounding. We have a very large Jewish population, obviously. And so, you know, it’s something that’s on my mind a lot. I’ve had the opportunity to work with the Jewish community in New York now for over 15 years. Studies tell us that more than 10% of Jewish adults, and Jewish adults with kids in New York are food insecure. It’s serious. You’d be astounded, probably, to learn that more than 20% of adults in Jewish households in New York are at the poverty line.

What is your favorite part of the job?

A job as a food bank leader is very, very unique. In the course of a day, I can work on operations, I can work on marketing and communications, I can meet with donors, I can be on the phone with one of our agencies or food pantries on the ground, or I can be working on policy or advocacy. So it’s a really varied position. The most fun part about my job is the people and the stories. It’s the people who we serve who just have really big hearts and deep and interesting personal stories, and they’re just like you and me — moms and dads and families and kids who are trying to live their best life. We take the opportunity to be able to help them along the way pretty seriously.

For me, it starts internally with our Food Bank family. I take that really seriously. The culture in the organization is really important to me. I want people to feel supported and have all the resources they need to do their job, to be excited and energized about the ability and opportunity they have to impact people’s lives. At the end of the day, it’s always the people. 

I’m a bit of a builder, and a fixer. It’s just who I am. Why I’m that way, I have no idea. My mother tells me that I’m my grandfather’s granddaughter. I just have a particular affinity for how things work and systems and processes and making things better and more efficient. It’s just part of my DNA, I guess. That is a skill set that really fits well with what’s required to run a food bank.


The post How the CEO of New York’s largest food bank is inspired by Jewish values appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.

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The Mississippi synagogue arson suspect has a Christian fitness site. Here’s what that tell us

Stephen Spencer Pittman, the suspect in a Saturday arson attack at a historic Mississippi synagogue, targeted Beth Israel Congregation because of its “Jewish ties,” according to the FBI. In an interview, he called the shul the “synagogue of Satan,” and his recent social media posts included an antisemitic cartoon.

But on a Christian fitness site registered to Pittman and linked across his social media profiles, Hebrew is liberally sprinkled throughout workout advice and scripture study.

That a man who would burn a synagogue would also be so interested in Hebrew language study, or pepper it throughout his Christian fitness site, may seem surprising. But understanding the reference points of Pittman’s fitness website helps explain the cultural touchstones and media diet he was likely consuming, one that may have influenced his thinking.

Pittman’s site, called One Purpose, advertises “scripture-backed fitness.” It refers to its users as “brothers” who are building their “temple” — women are not mentioned and presumably not the target audience. Instead, it pairs a veneer of biblical truth and Christianity with rhetoric about masculinity.

At the top of the homepage is the tetragrammaton in Hebrew, one of the biblical names for God. The site also says that it has modeled its fitness program after the “biblical patriarchs,” listing some of the oldest men in the bible — Adam, Methuselah, Noah, and others — with their Hebrew names. The site also notes several Jewish fast days, including lesser-known days usually only observed by Orthodox Jews, such as the Fast of Daniel and the Fast of Esther, again with their Hebrew names.

A post on Pittman’s Instagram about a “Christian diet/testosterone optimization” advises eating only raw milk and eggs as well as limiting oneself to “God-made fats,” listing the Hebrew words for oil and butter. Clicking through the site’s instructions for its fitness regimen brings the user snippets of Hebrew vocabulary, such as derekh, meaning path in Hebrew, and ma’atzor, meaning obstacle, scattered among copy about striving to live up to one’s true manliness and strength as ordained by God.

But beyond the biblical sheen, the site — which costs $99 a month to access in full, or $599 for the year — is full of the kind of “grindset” hustle culture advice on masculinity, charisma and workouts that regularly populates the so-called manosphere. Advertised among the premium features are training modules for “looks-maxxing,” which promises a “complete aesthetic optimization” and “test-maxxing,” which is not about acing exams but instead about raising testosterone levels.

This rhetoric is common among influencers widely regarded as proponents of toxic masculinity, including self-proclaimed misogynist Andrew Tate, who was arrested for sex trafficking in Romania; Myron Gaines, who wrote a book titled Women Deserve Less, and even Canadian psychologist Jordan Peterson, a manosphere elder who regularly inveighs against feminism. They often alternate between “negging” — internet slang for insulting — their participants, and pumping them up, promising a whole new life full of sex and money if they follow the advice of these influences. If they don’t, they will be weak “simps” or “cucks.”

One Purpose uses similar tactics at each click, just with a religious overlay. Users are offered the choice to “take up the cross” and “walk in the purpose God created for you,” or else, if they do not sign up for the site’s weight-lifting, diet and prayer program, to “let your temple fall into ruin” and “drift further from God’s purpose.”

Over the past few years, much of the manosphere has increasingly merged with Christian influencers, particularly traditionalist Catholics, or “tradcaths,” and the TheoBros, adherents of Reformed Christian theology. The overlap is borne largely out of shared values over women’s subservience and male dominance — which manosphere leaders such as Tate believe is biological, and TheoBro leaders such as Joel Webbon believe is biblical.

Many of the TheoBros, such as Webbon or Brian Sauvé, run YouTube series and podcasts where they also discuss their lifting routines and beard care, aligning with the manosphere values. And these TheoBros are often openly antisemitic, viewing Jews as Satanists who have rejected Jesus, and endorsing numerous antisemitic conspiracy theories, including Holocaust denial. Manosphere leaders including Tate and Gaines have done the same; Webbon and Gaines have also both hosted outspoken antisemite Nick Fuentes on their shows.

This manosphere interest among Christian influencers has grown alongside an increased attention to Jewish practice and the Hebrew Bible among many Christians, who see it as a way to grow closer to Jesus’ own practices and add a sense of mystery and spirituality via Jewish rituals that are unfamiliar, and feel esoteric, to most Christians.

Hebrew, in these contexts, largely serves to add a sense of authenticity to Christian practice — a way to advertise that their version of Christianity is ancient, from the time of Jesus. But it’s a mistake to see this interest in Hebrew and Jewish texts as philosemitism; while it sometimes manifests as friendliness toward Jews, it often has little relationship to Jewish people today.

Pittman’s One Purpose does not contain the overtly antisemitic or misogynist language that many TheoBro and manosphere influencers use. But the rhetoric of his biblical fitness site echoes their content, placing itself firmly in the same ecosystem. Its subtext aligns with a world rife with conspiracy theories about Jewish governmental control and Satanic rituals.

We don’t know yet exactly what Pittman’s media diet was. But his biblical fitness site’s imitation of Christian masculinity influencers indicates he likely consumed a lot of content that, alongside lifting routines or nutrition advice, contained antisemitic conspiracy theories. On his Instagram, he follows numerous accounts that describe themselves as a “soldier of Christ” or a “watchman for Christ,” some of which also contain conspiracy theories. When the beliefs on what it means to be a “real man” and a good Christian combine, they paint a vision of Christian masculinity that requires defeating Satan — and Satan, in this case, is the Jews. As Pittman said, according to an affidavit, he was due for a “homerun.”

The post The Mississippi synagogue arson suspect has a Christian fitness site. Here’s what that tell us appeared first on The Forward.

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Oklahoma board to vote on application for religious Jewish charter school, teeing up potential battle

(JTA) — A Jewish education group seeking to create the nation’s first publicly funded religious Jewish charter school took its case to Oklahoma’s charter school board Monday, reviving a high-stakes constitutional battle over whether government money can be used to run faith-based public schools.

The National Ben Gamla Jewish Charter School Foundation, founded by Peter Deutsch, a former Florida Democratic congressmember known for endorsing Donald Trump in 2024, has applied to open a statewide virtual Jewish charter school serving grades K-12 beginning in the 2026-27 school year. 

The proposal would integrate Oklahoma academic standards with daily Jewish religious instruction, including Hebrew, Jewish texts, holidays and religious practice.

The Oklahoma Statewide Charter School Board did not vote Monday but is expected to decide as early as next month whether the school can move forward. 

Supporters say approval would give families a religious values-based option within the public school system. Critics argue it would violate the legal principle separating church and state and set a precedent that could reshape public education nationwide.

The proposal comes months after the U.S. Supreme Court deadlocked 4-4 in a case involving another Oklahoma religious charter school, St. Isidore of Seville Catholic Virtual School. That tie left in place an Oklahoma Supreme Court ruling that charter schools — which are publicly funded but privately run — are “state actors” and therefore must remain secular. (The deadlock resulted from  a recusal by Justice Amy Coney Barrett, who had ties to the Catholic charter school.)

Ben Gamla and its lawyers at Becket, a conservative religious-liberty firm, are seeking to reopen that fight.

“The opportunity is probably the best in Oklahoma of any state in the United States of America today,” Deutsch, who was wearing a kippah, told board members Monday. “And that’s really related to your statute and the implementation of that statute.”

Becket said in a statement after the meeting that Oklahoma is wrongly excluding religious schools from its charter program. 

“Religious schools cannot be shut out of state programs just because they are religious,” said Eric Baxter, a senior counsel at Becket who represents Ben Gamla.

Deutsch, who founded a network of Hebrew-English charter schools in Florida nearly two decades ago, told the board that his schools have consistently ranked among the top public schools in that state. Those Florida schools, however, operate as strictly secular charters, teaching Hebrew language and Jewish culture without religious instruction.

The Oklahoma proposal is different.

Ben Gamla’s application describes the school as being organized “for educational, charitable, and religious purposes” and calls for daily Jewish religious studies alongside secular coursework.Teachers and staff would be expected to uphold Jewish religious standards in their professional conduct, with an additional expectation placed on those who are Jewish. 

“Employees who are Jewish are expected to be faithful to the Jewish community and adhere to the teachings of the people and to the Torah in their lives,” the application submitted by Ben Gamla says. 

Deutsch said that while Oklahoma has a relatively small Jewish population, many families — Jewish and non-Jewish — are seeking a values-based education.

“There are a lot of parents that are looking for a sort of a faith-based, rigorous academic program,” he told the board. “But there was nothing there.”

He said he had previously explored opening a physical Jewish charter school in Oklahoma but concluded that the numbers would not work. A virtual model, he said, would allow the school to operate with as few as 30 or 40 students and reach families across the state.

Board members asked Deutsch how the new Oklahoma nonprofit would relate to his Florida charter network. Deutsch said the two entities are legally separate but linked through him.

“They are separate corporations. They’re separate 501(c)(3)s,” he said. “The link is me.”

Deutsch, who his  is one of the three directors currently serving on the board of Ben Gamla. The other two are Brett Farley, who was a member of St. Isidore’s board of directors, and Ezra Husney, a New York lawyer.

He also said a nonprofit backer has committed to cover any startup deficits and that he plans to seek federal charter-school startup grants. 

He didn’t name the nonprofit, but Ben Gamla’s application includes a letter pledging financial support signed by Rabbi Raphael Butler, president of the Afikim Foundation, a New York based nonprofit aiming to “innovate and implement high impact global Jewish projects.” Butler is also president of Olami, a global Orthodox Jewish outreach group. 

In a press release issued after the meeting, Becket framed the case as one of religious discrimination, saying the state is required under the U.S. Constitution to treat religious and secular schools equally in public programs.

Last year’s Supreme Court deadlock in the Catholic case left the constitutional question unresolved. Conservative justices have signaled sympathy for the idea that states may not exclude religious organizations from generally available public benefits — a line of reasoning Becket hopes to extend to charter schools.

“Our goal is to win here at the board, and if that doesn’t happen, we will bring a case in federal court,” Baxter told local media after the meeting.

Church-state separation advocates say the plan would cross a clear constitutional line.

Americans United for Separation of Church and State, which led the legal fight against the Catholic school, has already filed public-records requests seeking communications between Ben Gamla and the charter board and has signaled it is prepared to sue.

“Despite their loss earlier this year in the U.S. Supreme Court, religious extremists once again are trying to undermine our country’s promise of church-state separation by forcing Oklahoma taxpayers to fund a religious public school. Not on our watch,” Rachel Laser, the group’s president, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency in November. 

In Oklahoma, home to fewer than 9,000 Jews, the proposal has drawn skepticism from local Jewish leaders, some of whom say they learned about it from reporters rather than organizers. Rabbi Daniel Kaiman of Congregation B’nai Emunah in Tulsa told JTA last month that no one in the community had been consulted. “I was surprised to be learning about it through a reporter,” he said.

Kaiman said he worries about a national legal fight being waged through a tiny Jewish community with delicate interfaith and political relationships. Oklahoma already has Jewish day schools and synagogue programs, he added. “I don’t know who this new proposal is for,” he said.

The post Oklahoma board to vote on application for religious Jewish charter school, teeing up potential battle appeared first on The Forward.

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A century before Trump targeted Somalis, Jews faced the politics of blame 

(JTA) — As President Donald Trump ramped up his rhetoric against Somali immigrants in Minnesota and ordered a surge in immigration enforcement because Somalis took part in a social-service fraud scheme, Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey pushed back. 

“’When a fraud takes place, when a crime takes place, you investigate it, you prosecute it, you charge it. You arrest the person that did the fraud or the crime, you put him in jail as an individual,” Frey told NPR. “You get held accountable as an individual. That’s how this works in America. 

“You do not, however, hold an entire community accountable for the crimes of one.”

Frey’s remarks were echoed by other state and national figures. “We do not blame the lawlessness of an individual on a whole community,” said Rep. Ilhan Omar, the Minnesota Democrat, who herself immigrated from Somalia to the United States as a child. 

Frey, who is Jewish, didn’t mention his own background in standing up for Somalis, a community of whom Trump has said, “And they contribute nothing. The welfare is like 88%. They contribute nothing. I don’t want them in our country. I’ll be honest with you.” 

But had Frey turned to Jewish history, he may well have cited another instance in which a powerful political figure blamed an immigrant community for the crimes of a few, and an ethnic group was targeted by nativists who pinned the country’s ills on immigrants. 

Frey might have reached back to 1908, when New York City Police Commissioner Theodore A. Bingham leveled what at the time was the most explicit, highest profile accusation of Jewish criminality made by a major American official since Gen. Ulysses Grant expelled all Jews from his military district to combat allegations of cotton smuggling and corruption.

That year, in an article in the North American Review, Bingham claimed Jews accounted for half of New York’s crimes, especially picking pockets, fencing stolen goods, arson and operating gambling and vice operations.

“It is not astonishing that with a million Hebrews, mostly Russian, in the city (one quarter of its population), perhaps half of the criminals should be of that race when we consider the ignorance of the language, more particularly among men not physically fit for hard labor,” Bingham wrote with the stilted prose of a bureaucrat and the dubious authority of the then popular pseudoscience of eugenics. 

Bingham buttressed his accusation with statistics: “Forty per cent of the boys at the House of Refuge and twenty per cent of those arraigned in the Children’s Court” are Jews, he claimed. “The percentage of Hebrew children in the truant schools is also higher than that of any other.”

Jewish leaders saw Bingham’s accusations as all the more dangerous because they were based on a shred of truth: “They knew, for one thing, that there was a crime problem on the East Side, not so lurid as Bingham had painted, but serious enough,” wrote Irving Howe in his history of the period, “World of Our Fathers.” 

Like Somali-Americans in Minnesota, the Jews of the era were on the cusp — with one foot in the poverty of the tenements and the other in the growing prosperity of a rising working and business-owning class. But the Eastern European Jewish newcomers also had an important lever: the German Jews who had arrived earlier and established positions of power in finance and politics.

Jacob Schiff, the powerful banker and philanthropist, became one of the most forceful critics of Bingham’s article, publicly denouncing it as reckless and un-American. Joseph Seligman, founder of the investment bank J. & W. Seligman & Co., similarly condemned Bingham, insisting that crime was a function of poverty and dislocation, not religion or ethnicity, and pointing out the danger of a police commissioner racializing crime. Both men brought their own statistics and experts to show Bingham had exaggerated Jewish involvement.

The grassroots response was just as strong, with letters to the Yiddish and general newspapers, mass protests and heated sermons. 

“Mr. Bingham has been indulging in mere generalities and he should be forced to give facts, including the names, residences, in fact the exact figures of any one week or month, to prove his statements, or else he will be asked to make a public retraction and apologize to the race he has injured,” fumed Rabbi Joseph A. Silverman of New York City’s Temple Emanu-El.

Bingham was, and he did. “By mid-September,” Howe writes, “under severe pressure, Bingham retracted his charges ‘frankly and without reservation.’” He subsequently lost the support of Mayor George B. McClellan Jr. and was forced to resign in July 1909.

Bingham wasn’t the only figure to hold the entire Jewish community responsible for the crimes committed by its members. Eleven years earlier, police commissioner Frank Moss argued in his book “The American Metropolis” that “criminal instincts… are so often found naturally in the Russian and Polish Jews.” Between 1907 and 1909, McClure’s Magazine published articles by the muckraking journalist George Kibbe Turner claiming extensive Jewish involvement in the “white slave trade” — what today we would call human trafficking. While courts found little evidence of a wide-spead Jewish conspiracy to traffic women, “McClure’s used the white slavery investigation and grand jury to stoke anti-immigration and anti-Semitic fears throughout the city,” historian Mia Brett wrote in a paper for the Gotham Center at CUNY.

The Jewish elite counted Bingham’s retraction as a victory, but the incident left many with the impression that the Jewish community needed a better mechanism for organizing around the fight against antisemitism. In New York, that meant the formation of the Kehillah, an ambitious experiment to create a unified Jewish communal organization. The Kehillah included educational and political committees, as well as a “Bureau of Social Morals” — a sort of self-policing body meant to help law enforcement root out crime among Jews. When it sank in that the bureau was only reinforcing an impression that the Kehillah had been formed to dispel, the bureau was scrapped. 

The Kehillah lasted until 1922, when it disbanded over — spoiler alert — ideological disagreements among its constituent groups. But it created a precedent for centralized communal organizations to come, including UJA-Federation of New York. 

In Minnesota too there are signs that the president’s attacks are strengthening the Somali community by sparking solidarity and organizing.“I think it’s giving us a chance for many Americans to learn about the Somali community, and not only that, but also to see the resilience,” Jaylani Hussein, executive director of the Minnesota chapter of CAIR, told CNN. “Also, it’s giving Somali Americans a chance to own their American identity and fight for it.”

When the Bingham incident is remembered, it is often to illustrate how officials trade on xenophobic fears over facts — and why such scapegoating, once unleashed, can do profound damage to both the targeted community and the civic fabric.

“We know that when a few people commit crimes, it does not implicate an entire community and to say so is racist, is xenophobic and just wrong,” Rabbi Adam Stock Spilker of Mount Zion Temple in St Paul told Fox 9 in Minneapolis last month.Meanwhile, the current police chief in Minneapolis, Brian O’Hara, has taken the very un-Bingham-like position that the “real problem” of social service fraud in the state doesn’t justify the “largely political” reaction of the federal government, especially immigration authorities.  

“I had not known any Somali Americans until I moved to Minnesota,” O’Hara said Monday on “The Daily” podcast. “The Somali Americans that I have met here, including many of whom are police officers in this city, have been incredibly welcoming of me. From a personal perspective, [the immigration crackdown on Somalis] was just bizarre because I’m also aware that the overwhelming majority of people from that community are American citizens.” 

The post A century before Trump targeted Somalis, Jews faced the politics of blame  appeared first on The Forward.

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