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‘Swastika boards’ and ‘surf Nazis’: New documentary explores surfing’s history of antisemitism
(JTA) — When he was 13 years old, Josh Greene moved with his family to San Clemente, California, a city known as one of the best spots for surfing on the West Coast. Greene quickly fell in love with the sport, even holding his bar mitzvah party at a local museum dedicated to it.
As a “skinny, very unathletic” teen, Greene said he endured a significant amount of bullying, including some that “extended itself into antisemitism.” Students at his school would compare his physique to that of a Holocaust survivor.
Surfing provided refuge.
“Surfing was my way to really carve my own niche and find the confidence, courage and physical strength I needed,” he told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
But years after his bar mitzvah, Greene learned that his parents had arranged for the Surfing Heritage and Culture Center to remove swastika-engraved boards that were on display, to avoid disturbing the partygoers. Wanting to learn more, he discovered that the sport’s history is full of Nazi imagery: Particularly in the 1960s, seeing surfboards with swastikas or surfers giving “Sieg heil” salutes was commonplace. Serious surfers called themselves “surf Nazis” as a way to signal their intense dedication to the sport.
An aspiring filmmaker — he received his first “real camera” as his bar mitzvah present — Greene decided to combine his two passions and delve into the dark history.
The result, completed before he graduated from the University of Southern California in May 2022, is a documentary called “Waves Apart,” which chronicles the history of antisemitism in surfing. Directed by Greene, the student-produced film was a finalist in the fall for a Student Academy Award, given by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.
“Waves Apart” made its global debut at the Santa Barbara International Film Festival on Thursday, before heading to other Jewish and documentary film festivals in California, Denver, Toronto and Maryland.
After chronicling his own journey with surfing and the bar mitzvah incident in the film, Greene interviews surf writer Dan Duane and Jewish history professor Steven Ross, who provide a fuller picture of Southern California’s history of both surfing and Nazism, and their unfortunate overlap. As Duane wrote in a 2019 New York Times article, that overlap runs deep — The first commercially made surfboards made in California are thought to be the “Swastika model,” sold in the 1930s by the Pacific Systems Homes company, which also made prefab houses. The 1960s surfer icon Miki Dora was known to have painted a swastika on at least one of his boards.
Duane cites arguments that claim early surfers, who wanted to be seen as a rebellious subculture, used the swastika only to irk members of mainstream society. But Duane argues back that their antisemitism was part of a clear culture of racism in the largely white surfer community.
“I’ve heard all the predictable excuses for this stuff, like that the swastika was an ancient Sanskrit symbol,” he wrote in The Times. “Putting a swastika on something to anger people means you know that it angers them and very likely why.”
In his movie, Greene also speaks with Jewish surfers, both his classmates at USC and Jewish surfing legends like Shaun Tomson and Israel “Izzy” Paskowitz. Paskowitz shares a story of encountering a surfer with a swastika spray-painted on his surfboard — which his father, the famous surfer Dorian “Doc” Paskowitz, destroyed out of anger.
“Right as I was about to graduate, we had the first screening of our film, in our school’s theater,” Greene said. “We drew a packed crowd, and it was so rewarding and such a great sign of confirmation about the film’s message and connectivity with our audience. We saw people crying, people smiling at the end, with the way our film ends with a hopeful tone and message for the future.”
That hopeful message is where Tomson comes in. A former pro surfer and now a motivational speaker, Tomson reached the pinnacle of the sport by winning the 1977 World Surf League championship. He won 19 major professional surfing events in total and is a member of both the Southern California and International Jewish Sports Halls of Fame.
Shaun Tomson is a former world champion surfer. (Courtesy of Tomson)
Tomson, born in Durban, South Africa, also had a surfing experience tied to his bar mitzvah that would prove foundational. Tomson’s father took him on a surfing trip to Hawaii, which Tomson called “the Mount Everest of surfing.”
“For me, it was a total representation of what a bar mitzvah is — it’s coming into manhood,” Tomson told JTA. “And here I was, a young boy paddling out in a 25-foot surf in Hawaii, which was a moment for me that changed my life. I came back to South Africa, and my career and my role in surfing changed after that bar mitzvah present.”
Tomson said he has faced antisemitism before outside of the sport — he was called a “Jew boy” by a fellow member of South Africa’s army as a teenager — but never as a member of the surfing community in the 1970s onward.
“While it’s not an excuse, I think there’s just a lot of ignorance,” Tomson said. “When I say ignorance, perhaps it wasn’t actually directed at Jews, it was more just blatant stupidity, and a lack of awareness of what actually happened in the Holocaust.”
There weren’t many Jewish surfers in South Africa when Tomson grew up, but he said he feels a direct link between his identities as a Jew and as a surfer.
“When you’re out in the ocean, there’s certainly a spiritual and a religious connectivity there, which is totally aligned with Jewish values,” he said.
No experience exemplifies this connection more powerfully than the tragic death of Tomson’s son, Matthew, who died in 2006 at the age of 15 as a result of a schoolyard “choking game” gone wrong. Tomson tells the story in the documentary.
Tomson explained that his particular expertise is tube riding — the picturesque but challenging technique of riding inside a tunnel-like wave. Two hours before Tomson’s son died, he called his father to share an essay he had written about how in tube riding, “the light shines ahead.” Just hours later, Tomson received the devastating news.
“So when I was trying to make sense of the world and my life, and why God had done this to me, I went back to my old shul,” Tomson said. “The old shul where I’d had my bar mitzvah. And I look at that lamp of everlasting light that represents the hope and faith of Judaism. And I thought of the words that my son wrote, ‘the light shines ahead.’ And I realized that Judaism’s about hope.”
The film ends on that hopeful tone: The last scene features a group of Jewish surfers at a beach in Malibu, reciting the Shema prayer in the water, before hitting the waves as the sun begins to set. In the last shot, the group sits down to a Shabbat meal on the beach.
“Surfing can be seen as a microcosm for issues like that and I think we would be doing our sport a great disservice if we ignored our own signs of darkness,” Greene said. “I think that by making a film like this, we can dispel ignorance and divisiveness, and instead promote inclusivity, community and equality for all surfers and all people.”
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The post ‘Swastika boards’ and ‘surf Nazis’: New documentary explores surfing’s history of antisemitism appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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‘Growing Pogrom-Like Atmosphere’: German Antisemitism Commissioner Issues Warning After Synagogue Arson Attack
Anti-Israel protesters march in Germany, March 26, 2025. Photo: Sebastian Willnow/dpa via Reuters Connect
The commissioner to combat antisemitism in the German state of Hesse has sounded the alarm after an arson attack on a local synagogue in the town of Giessen, warning that it reflects a “growing pogrom-like atmosphere” threatening Jewish life across Germany as Jews and Israelis continue to face an increasingly hostile climate.
In an interview with the German newspaper Tagesspiegel, Uwe Becker — who has served in his role since 2019 — condemned the latest attack, saying it occurred “in a poisoned antisemitic climate that is steadily worsening.”
The horrific act occurred in a “growing pogrom-like atmosphere that, as a society in Germany and Europe, we are currently not doing enough to counter,” the German official said.
On Tuesday, a 32-year-old man was arrested after allegedly setting fire to a trash can outside a local synagogue in Giessen, west-central Germany, in an attack that damaged a roller shutter and entrance gate, though no one was harmed.
According to local reports, a Giessen district judge has ordered the suspect to be placed in a psychiatric hospital, citing signs that he may be suffering from a mental illness.
However, the suspect remains in police custody as local authorities investigate the circumstances and motive of the attack, including whether it was politically motivated.
This latest attack came just a week after Andreas Büttner, the commissioner for antisemitism in Brandenburg, northeastern Germany, was targeted for the second time in less than a week after receiving a death threat.
According to the German newspaper Potsdamer Neueste Nachrichten (PNN), the Brandenburg state parliament received a letter earlier this month threatening Büttner’s life, with the words “We will kill you” and an inverted red triangle, the symbol of support for the Islamist terrorist group Hamas.
Authorities are now probing the incident as part of an ongoing investigation into threats against the German official, after his private property in Templin — about 43 miles north of Berlin — was also targeted in an arson attack and a red Hamas triangle was spray-painted on his house.
A former police officer and member of the Left Party, Büttner took office as commissioner for antisemitism in 2024 and has faced repeated attacks since.
“The symbol sends a clear message. The red Hamas triangle is widely recognized as a sign of jihadist violence and antisemitic incitement,” Büttner said in a statement after the incident.
“Anyone who uses such a thing wants to intimidate and glorify terror. This is not a protest, it is a threat,” he continued.
Hamas uses inverted red triangles in its propaganda videos to indicate Israeli targets about to be attacked. The symbol, a common staple at pro-Hamas rallies, has come to represent the Palestinian terrorist group and glorify its use of violence.
In August 2024, swastikas and other antisemitic symbols and threats were also spray-painted on Büttner’s personal car.
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How Alvin Ailey’s ‘Revelations’ evokes Yom Kippur for me
My last semester of college, I had an Alvin Ailey phase.
My time in Philadelphia was rapidly coming to a close and I felt an urge to make it to as many of the performing arts venues in the city as I could (not an easy feat). With a close family friend, I attended my first Alvin Ailey performance at the Forrest Theatre. Soon after, I went to a talk at the African American Museum in Philadelphia about Ailey and the piece The River. That weekend, I also watched the 2021 documentary Ailey. Then I found myself doing a sociolinguistical analysis of Ailey’s most famous work, Revelations, for a class.
To call my interest in Ailey a phase is actually a misnomer since, two years later, I am still an Ailey fan — and now the owner of an actual Alvin Ailey-branded hand fan. Last June, I attended a performance during their run at the Brooklyn Academy of Music and fell in love with Grace, choreographed by Ronald K. Brown. I bought a ticket to see it again, along with Revelations and two shorter works, during their winter season at New York City Center.
While the end of Grace — in which a dozen dancers take a nearly 30-minute-long journey to a promised land — made me tear up, it wasn’t until Revelations that I actually began to cry. It happened during the duet “Fix Me, Jesus,” in which a female dancer searches for spiritual guidance and a male figure depicts divine support.
I was aware of the irony. As a lifelong Jew, I have never wanted Jesus to “fix” me. But the piece moved me to tears nonetheless. Within the gospel music, New Testament themes and African American cultural imagery of Revelations — composed of multiple smaller pieces — is a universal story of desire for redemption and turning to faith in times of great suffering.
The choir that accompanies the dance sings “fix me for my long white robe,” a reference to Revelation 6:11, where those that have lived their life without sin are told they will be given white robes for their ascension to Heaven. I was reminded of the kittel, a plain white robe some in the Ashkenazi tradition wear on Yom Kippur. Some rabbis have interpreted the robe to symbolize the blank slate we are creating for ourselves in the new year. Dressing plainly can also be another way of resisting earthly pleasures on the Day of Atonement. Since some people are also buried in their kittel, another interpretation is that wearing it helps one consider their death and what legacy they want to leave behind, thinking of how they may “fix” themselves to be ready for when they will be brought before G-d.
These echoes of Yom Kippur make another appearance in Ailey’s Revelations in the solo “I Wanna Be Ready.” The single dancer dressed in white alternates between contracting and expanding their body, kneeling and prostrating on the ground, as if they are repenting for something. The choir chants that they want to be ready to put on their long white robes and the lead singer explains he has avoided the temptation to sin so his soul will be ready for death.
This deviates slightly from how I think of preparing for the Day of Judgment. For me, Yom Kippur has always been about acknowledging that we will sin, that we are human, flawed, prone to jealousy and gossip and all those other things we list as we beat our chests during the confessional. In the Reconstructionist Press version of the Prayerbook for the Days of Awe, Rabbi Rami M. Shapiro writes that “we freely admit our failings” in order to “create our atonements.” In the confessional, we are instructed not to tell G-d that “we are righteous, and we have not sinned,” for “indeed we have sinned.”
I have always experienced Yom Kippur as an intense emotional journey to find within myself the ability to do better, be better, perhaps with some divine guidance. This is what I recognized in “Fix Me, Jesus,” this burning desire to exceed our own expectations.
But the yearning of Revelations is not just about individual spiritual reckoning. Throughout the work, you can feel Black Americans pushing toward freedom as they emerge from the degradation of slavery and Jim Crow.
I connect with this existential cultural aspiration to escape systemic degradation both as a Black American and as a Jewish American, descended from enslaved people on one side and pogrom survivors on the other. Although Revelations originated in a specific cultural context — born from Ailey’s experiences growing up in the Black church in 1930s Texas — its broader message about redemption feels unifying across cultural divides. I have imagined seeing Revelations with my paternal grandmother, an active and dedicated member of the Black Presbyterian church. Even if we were to appreciate the dance’s spirituality for different reasons — her for the work’s reflection of her faith in Jesus, me for its raw portrayal of an intense desire to improve — it’s something that would move both of us.
Probably my tears were triggered by the intensity of the piece and the beauty of its dancers and not by some spiritual awakening. Still, despite — or really, because of — the emotional unrest Alvin Ailey put me through, they will probably be seeing me again soon.
The post How Alvin Ailey’s ‘Revelations’ evokes Yom Kippur for me appeared first on The Forward.
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Police Chief in UK Retires After Facing Scrutiny for Banning Israeli Maccabi Tel Aviv Fans From Soccer Match
WMP Chief Constable Craig Guildford speaking before the Home Affairs Committee on Jan. 6, 2026. Photo: Screenshot
West Midlands Police (WMP) Chief Constable Craig Guildford retired on Friday effective immediately after increasing public scrutiny and revelations over his use of “exaggerated or simply untrue” intelligence to justify a ban prohibiting Maccabi Tel Aviv soccer fans from attending a match late last year.
Simon Foster, the police and crime commissioner of WMP, announced Guildford’s retirement in a formal statement delivered outside Birmingham’s Lloyd House, which is the headquarters of the West Midlands police force. Guildford will collect his full pension after three decades of service. Foster thanked Guildford for his service and said he welcomes the chief constable’s decision to retire. He added that Guildford’s stepping down is in the “best interest” of the police force and the local community.
Guildford’s retirement follows the decision of the Birmingham City Council Safety Advisory Group, based on the recommendation of West Midlands Police, to ban traveling Maccabi Tel Aviv soccer fans from attending the Europa League soccer match between Aston Villa and the Israeli team on Nov. 6, 2025, at Villa Park in Birmingham due to “public safety concerns.”
The announcement also comes just two days after British Home Secretary Shabana Mahmood told the British Parliament that she has lost confidence in Guildford. The minister said she came to the conclusion after receiving a “damning” and “devastating” report by Sir Andy Cooke, his Majesty’s chief inspector of constabulary, on Wednesday that revealed several failings by the WMP force in relation to its recommendation to ban Maccabi soccer fans, including “misleading” public statements and “misinformation” promoted by the police.
Foster acknowledged on Thursday that the police forced faced “understandable intense and significant oversight and scrutiny.”
“The findings of the chief inspector were damning. They set out a catalogue of failings that have harmed trust in West Midlands Police,” Mahmood said in a statement following Thursday’s announcement. “By stepping down, Craig Guildford has done the right thing today … Today marks a crucial first step to rebuilding trust and confidence in the force amongst all the communities they serve.”