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The battle for Jewish hearts and minds returns to the printed page
(JTA) — The last 20 years haven’t been kind to Jewish journalism, with local weeklies shrinking or folding and even big city papers suspending their print publications and going completely digital. Publishing online has allowed these papers to cut costs and given them the potential for a wide reach — albeit a potential undermined by an increasingly siloed and ideologically polarized market for news and ideas.
Yet still there are those who aren’t giving up on print — at least in small, carefully targeted batches. This spring has seen the launch of two Jewish journals — Masorti, a reboot of the former Conservative Judaism, and Fragments, a product of the left-leaning Jewish human rights group T’ruah. The two magazines join a small but scrappy fraternity of journals aiming to steer the Jewish conversation.
“We’re the people of the book. I think print is having a moment,” said Rabbi Lev Meirowitz Nelson, who as director of Emor, T’ruah’s affiliated think tank, edits Fragments. “In the midst of all the [digital] bombardment people experience, there’s something very grounding about picking up a hard copy and being able to mark it up or carry it with you.”
Of course, Fragments and its more established cousins — from a legacy Modern Orthodox quarterly like Tradition to the interdisciplinary journal Modern Judaism — are all available online, and few print more than 1,000 copies at a time. The goal, the editors and publishers of some of the newer publications told me, is to establish a brand and repair what each one said was a broken communal discussion about Israel, domestic politics and religion.
“I hate what’s become of discourse in Jewish life, which largely goes on on Twitter and other places like that,” said Mark Charendoff. “I think Jews like longform discussions, and we’ve become very, very impatient. I wanted to carve out a space for that long type of writing and reading.”
Charendoff is president of the Maimonides Fund, which publishes Sapir, perhaps the best known of the newish journals. It has a high-profile editor — Bret Stephens, the conservative columnist on the New York Times opinion page — and a penchant for hot-button topics that rally conservatives and enrage liberals. Recent issues of the two-year-old journal have focused on “cancel culture” and a campus environment that most of its contributors consider hostile to conservatism and Jewish life.
“I think society and the Jewish community has become so polarized that people are afraid of articulating controversial views. We need to take a breath and say, ‘You’re not going to be harmed by reading something you disagree with,’” said Charendoff.
T’ruah believes there are plenty of controversial views being aired, but mostly on the right: It has explicitly positioned its new journal as a “necessary alternative to well-funded right-wing Jewish publications.” The news release announcing Fragments did not name those publications but presumably they include Sapir; Mosaic, supported by the right-leaning Tikvah Fund; and Tablet, which is published by Nextbook, Inc., whose president, Mem Bernstein, is on the board of Tikvah and is the widow of its founder. Tablet has published writers from across the political spectrum, but has drawn howls from the left for its frequent articles denouncing “wokeness” and cancel culture and a recent piece questioning the motives of donors who support gender-affirming care for trans people.
(Another journal, The Jewish Review of Books, was initially backed by Tikvah, but recently spun off under its own foundation.)
The premiere issue of Fragments includes essays on concepts of freedom by Laynie Soloman, a director at SVARA, an LGBTQ yeshiva based in Chicago, and Joelle Novey, the director of an interfaith environmental group in the Washington, D.C. area.
Nelson sees two audiences for Fragments: “It’s definitely speaking to the left and offering a deepening of language and of conversation around Jewish sources and Jewish ideas,” he said. “And it’s an effort to speak to the center, which often shares our values and can be spooked by the language they see coming from the right.”
Fittingly for a magazine published by a group formerly known as Rabbis for Human Rights, Fragments leans into Jewish text and religious perspectives. That sets it apart from Jewish Currents, a legacy journal of the Jewish left that, after a relaunch in 2018, now aims for an audience of young, left-wing, mostly secular Jews who, when not anti-Zionist, are deeply critical of Israel. Arielle Angel, editor in chief of Jewish Currents, has said that the magazine has become “a reliable and essential space for challenging, rigorous, surprising work that has shifted the discourse even beyond the American Jewish left.”
The aspiration that the “discourse can be shifted” by gladiators writing for small magazines harkens back to the post-World War II period, a sort of golden age of Jewish thought journals. Jewish and Jewish-adjacent publications like the Menorah Journal, Partisan Review, Commentary and Dissent provided a launching pad for an ideologically fluid cohort of “New York intellectuals” that over the years included Sidney Hook, Hannah Arendt, Lionel Trilling, Saul Bellow, Irving Howe, Delmore Schwartz, Norman Podhoretz, Paul Goodman, Midge Dector, Jeanne Kirkpatrick and Alfred Kazin.
Partisan Review was among a spate of magazines that offered a platform for Jewish intellectuals in the years immediately after World War II. (Open Culture)
While writers like these tackled Jewish issues, or general issues through a Jewish lens, many of them influenced the wider national conversation. Angel has said she has drawn inspiration from Commentary: Founded in 1945 by the American Jewish Committee, the magazine became hugely influential in promoting neoconservative ideas and thinkers in the 1980s and ’90s.
The “golden age” was an explosion of Jewish creativity, and political influence, that would be difficult to replicate today. Benjamin Balint, a former editor at Commentary and author of a history of the magazine, says the flowering of Jewish journals in the mid-20th century was the result of “terrific pent-up pressure among the children of immigrants who were pushed down for so long and were able to explode into the mainstream.” Small magazines “provided that release — pushing critics and writers into the larger culture,” said Balint, who previously edited Sources, the journal of the Shalom Hartman Institute of North America.
A long piece in Tablet recently argued that such Jewish influence is in steep decline “anywhere where American Jews once made their mark,” from academia to Hollywood to government. Author Jacob Savage doesn’t blame the loss of the immigrant work ethic, however, but rather “American liberalism” for marginalizing Jews.
Whatever the cause, few of the newer journals aspire to that kind of influence on the larger culture, and acknowledge that they are trying to shape the conversation within the Jewish community.
“We believe that Jewish leaders need great ideas to do their work well,” said Rabbi Justus Baird, senior vice president for national programs at the Shalom Hartman Institute of North America and publisher of its journal Sources, launched in 2021. “The way we invest in ideas is by cultivating a large group of Jewish thinkers and scholars who are doing not just the scholarship for its own sake, but really trying to work collaboratively on how Jewish thought can apply to the challenges facing the Jewish people.”
The Hartman Institute (which also counts the Maimonides Fund among its long list of major donors) is a religiously pluralistic, liberal Zionist think tank with outposts in New York and Jerusalem. Recent essays in Sources include lengthy essays by Yale religious studies professor Christine Hayes on the ethics of shaming and Hartman scholar Mijal Bitton on how relationships can heal the breach between the Diaspora and Israel.
Part of Hartman’s goal in publishing the journal is to provide a space for such long-form articles, filling what Baird calls “a gap between the quick, super-responsive, news-oriented Jewish publication landscape, the hot takes about what is going on, and the academic Jewish work.”
“It’s a space where ideas can really percolate,” said Claire Sufrin, who now edits Sources. “The written word, the printed word is there and can be shared in that way and people can engage with it over and over again.”
Masorti, the relaunched journal of Conservative Judaism, is also trying to bridge a gap, in this case between Jewish scholarship and the synagogue.
“Rabbis have responsibilities to serve as congregational leaders, and also the obligation to engage in Jewish learning and scholarship,” said Rabbi Joseph Prouser, the editor of Masorti.
The original Conservative Judaism was published from 1945 through 2014. The reboot is sponsored by the movement’s Rabbinical Assembly and its five seminaries, including the Jewish Theological Seminary, the New York flagship. Its readership base is rabbis and cantors affiliated with the movement.
Masorti arrives at a critical time for the Conservative movement: In an essay in the first issue, its associate editor, Rabbi Jonathan Rosenbaum, says what was once America’s largest Jewish denomination is at a “precipice.”
“At its summit, the plurality of [North American] Jews identified with the Conservative movement, something like 40%,” Rosenbaum said in an interview. “There was something like 1.6 million Jews who were thought to be part of the Conservative movement up to maybe the late ‘80s, early ‘90s. Today, there are about 500,000.
“Part of the goal of the journal,” he said, is to “look at the problems and the means of solving them.”
In the past the Conservative Judaism journal had been a forum for debate within the movement. It published dueling papers, for example, on the decision to ordain women and what is and isn’t permissible on Shabbat. Prouser says he’ll uphold that tradition of dissent: The current issue features an essay by Michal Raucher, a Jewish studies professor at Rutgers University, who criticizes the movement’s establishment for embracing a justification for abortion that doesn’t go far enough in recognizing the bodily autonomy of women (an argument she also advanced in a JTA oped).
And Prouser does hope these arguments are heard beyond the movement, positioned between traditionalist Orthodoxy and liberal Reform. “One of the beauties of the Conservative movement is that we can talk to people to our right to our left right, we can talk to the entire spectrum of the Jewish community,” he said.
The editors of the new journals agree that there are fewer and fewer spaces for civil conversation among Jews, blaming the filter bubble of the internet and the take-no-prisoners style of current political debate. And each said they would like to be part of the solution.
Sufrin, the editor of Hartman’s journal, calls it a “bridge, because people can talk about it together, they can engage with the ideas together, and it’s in that conversation that they can develop a relationship and ultimately, talk together more productively.”
The question is whether it is too late: At a time when algorithms reward readers with the kind of material they are likely to agree with, will even an elite reach across ideological divides and listen to what the other side is saying? When institutions — from government to religion — regard compromise as surrender, who dares to concede that your ideological opponent might have a point?
“Difference and disagreement are productive when we engage with the best versions of those with whom we disagree,” Hayes writes in Sources. That sounds like a call to action. Or is it an epitaph?
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Sheila Reich, beloved LA Yiddish teacher, has died
שיינדל „שילאַ“ רײַך, אַ פּאָפּולערע לאַנגיאָריקע ייִדיש־לערערין אין לאָס־אַנדזשעלעס, איז לעצטנס אַוועק אין דער אייביקייט. זי איז געווען 80 יאָר אַלט.
איך האָב געקענט שילאַן במשך פֿון מער װי אַ פֿערטל יאָרהונדערט אָבער בײַ מיר האָט זי געהייסן בלויז שיינדל. ערשט הײַיאָר, אויף איר 80סטן געבורירן־טאָג האָב איך אױסגעפֿונען אַז בײַ אַלע אַנדערע האָט זי געהײסן „שילאַ“.
יאָרן לאַנג איז שײנדל געװען אַ ייִדיש־לערערין אין פֿאַרשידענע אינסטיטוציעס איבער לאָס־אַנדזשעלעס. איך אַלײַן בין קיין מאָל נישט געווען בײַ איר אין קלאַס אָבער מײַן װײַב טעמע האָט זיך יאָרן לאַנג געלערנט בײַ איר. אַלס לערערין איז שײנדל געװען אויסערגעוויינטלעך. אין אַ טיפּישן קלאַס זענען די סטודענטן געווען אױף פֿאַרשידענע ניװאָען, פֿון אַבסאָלוטע אָנהײבער ביז אַװאַנסירט. דאָך האָט זי זיך אָפּגעגעבן מיט יעדן אײנעם באַזונדער. ווי אַ רעזולטאַט האָט די ייִדיש־קענטעניש בײַ יעדן סטודענט זיך פֿאַרבעסערט.
װי איך אַלײן, און ווי אַ סך פֿון אירע סטודענטן, איז שיינדל געװען אַ קינד פֿון דער שארית־הפּליטה. זינט די קינדעריאָרן האָבן מיר בײדע גערעדט ייִדיש מיט אונדזערע טאַטע־מאַמע. (זי האָט אויך גערעדט ייִדיש מיט איר זון, אַבֿי.) פֿאַקטיש איז ייִדיש פֿאַר אונדז בײדן געװען די ערשטע שפּראַך. אַן אונטערשייד פֿון צען יאָר צווישן אונדז, איז שיינדל אין מײַנע אױגן געװען די עלטערע שװעסטער װאָס איך האָב נישט געהאַט. אין אונדזערע פֿיל שמועסן האָבן מיר גערעדט אױף מאַמע־לשון. חס־וחלילה מיר זאָלן רעדן אױף דער גױישער שפּראַך! אַזױ װי איך, האָט זי געקענט צענדליקער, אױב נישט הונדערטער יִידישע אױסדרוקן, שפּריכװערטער און חכמות. מיר האָבן אָפֿט זיך געטיילט מיט די אויסדרוקן און תּמיד הנאה געהאַט ווען מיר האָבן זיך דערוווּסט אַ נײַ ווערטל.
יאָרן לאַנג איז שײנדל אויך געװען אַ מיטגליד פֿון אונדזער לײענקרײַז אין לאָס־אַנדזשעלעס. טראָץ דעם װאָס זי איז געװען אַ ייִדיש־לערערין האָט זי זיך קיין מאָל נישט געהאַלטן העכער פֿון אונדז. . אָט זענען עטלעכע:
„זומער און װינטער ליגט אים אין מױל“ — אַ פּאַטאַלאָגישער ליגנער. דער ליגן בלײַבט אין זײַן מױל אַ גאַנץ יאָר.
„עס גײט מיר אן אַזױ ווי דער פֿאַריאָריקער שנײ.“
„איך האָב נישט אַפֿילו קײַן כּוח צו חלשן.“
„קושװאָך“ — „האָנימון“. איז דאָס נישט חנעװדיק?
שײנדל איז געװען אַן אשת־חיל, מיט אַ פֿינקל אין אױג. איך, צוזאַמען מיט די מיטגלידער פֿון אונדזער לײענקרײַז און די אָנצאָליקע סטודענטן במשך פֿון די יאָרן, װעלן שטאַרק בענקען נאָך איר. כּבֿוד איר אָנדענק!
The post Sheila Reich, beloved LA Yiddish teacher, has died appeared first on The Forward.
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Do European Nationalists Really Love Israel?
A police officer stands at the scene, after a man was arrested following a stabbing incident in the Golders Green area, which is home to a large Jewish population, in London, Britain, April 29, 2026. Photo: REUTERS/Hannah McKay
For decades, major pollsters around the world have conducted surveys on attitudes toward Jews. For decades, these surveys have produced more heat than light.
“Thinking of Jews, is your attitude generally positive or negative?” — that is the typical formulation. Time after time, pollsters found that in the West in general, and in the Anglosphere in particular, negativity toward Jews was low. Perhaps 10–15% of the Western public would openly state that they see Jews negatively.
That number may still sound high to some. But what does it actually mean in terms of the potential for rapid political mobilization? Nobody really knows. Yet much of the academic research on antisemitism — conducted in major universities and sponsored by well-meaning donors — never seriously bothered to ask the crucial questions: what does this figure mean, and is it a lot or a little?
But there is another puzzle hiding in plain sight, equally gracefully ignored. The trend in negativity toward Jews is flat. If surveys are to be believed, not much has changed in the minds of Westerners over the past decade, and possibly longer. And yet, with reports constantly highlighting a global surge in antisemitic incidents reported by Jews to the police, one is tempted to ask: who is lying? Jews who report incidents to the police and Jewish communal bodies? The police? Or the surveys?
I have an answer: the surveys are. Or rather, the surveys are asking the wrong question.
What they should be asking, and some do, only less enthusiastically than they should, is whether the Western public is negative toward Israel.
And this is emphatically not because what people feel about Israel is an objectively true measure of Jews’ status, or even Israel’s status, in the Western imagination. It is because attitudes toward Israel function as a mirror: they reveal the respondent’s own identity, the way they see themselves, and their hopes for their society. In a way, Jews and Israel can almost be forgotten. They are only needed as instruments to tease out people’s real political selves.
Have you noticed a finding that some consider “strange,” others applaud, but nobody explains convincingly? When surveys ask about attitudes to Israel and also ask about political affiliation — and when the responses are cross-classified — it turns out that nationalist circles in the West are often quite pro-Israel.
In a recent YouGov survey in Britain, for example, 39% of Reform UK supporters (the most nationalistic large British party) identified as pro-Israel, and only 13% said they were anti-Israel.
Contrast this with the currently surging far-left force, the Green Party: only 4% of Green supporters were pro-Israel, while 60% were anti-Israel. The British political old-timers — the Conservatives and Labour — show similar dynamics in essentials. While the traditionally nationalistic Conservatives lean more pro-Israel than anti-Israel, Labour leans in the opposite direction.
These findings are not new. Nor are they limited to a single pollster.
It is true that the British political map has been redrawn in recent years. The old two-party dynamic — similar to what exists in the US — no longer holds, at least for now. The Conservatives and Labour are no longer the uncontested icons of Right and Left. Instead, both look like spent forces. British politics now has clearer, more sharply defined right-wing and left-wing agendas, represented by Reform UK and the Greens. But the basic pattern — the positivity of nationalists toward Israel and the hostility of socialist circles toward it — has existed for years. It is traceable back at least a decade.
The lack of serious commentary on this is astonishing, especially given that both radical left and right-wing forces are rising across Europe. So what is happening to the nationalists? Do they really care about Israel? And should this be celebrated by those who care about Israel?
My answer, from the crossroads of demographic and historical research, is simple: British nationalists care first and foremost about themselves. They are pro-Israel because Israel is useful to their self-understanding.
The way European nationalists see Israel is simply the way they want to see themselves. Israel, in their eyes, is a Western country — close in manners and sensibilities to their own. It is a muscular Western democracy, defending its citizenry and saying a decisive “yes” to prosperity and innovation, and a decisive “no” to attempts to valorize terrorism or relativize good and evil.
While such games could be played for a while in the West, Israel did not have the luxury of indulging in them for long. And so, not by design but by historical slippage, Israel became the version of the West that Western nationalists crave but can no longer see around them. At the same time, Israel’s neighbors and insurgents are associated with anti-Western sentiments and terrorism — and, more broadly, with what is not the West. The very West of which Britain is a formative part, and which nationalists believe deserves celebration.
In a recently published feature refreshingly titled “Zionism for Everyone,” Alana Newhouse proposes a simple test of national wellbeing. Can a country maintain its demographics? Can it defend itself? Are its people happy?
In Israel’s case, the answer to all three questions is a resounding yes. Israel’s population grows naturally. Israel fights wars — not without successes, to put it mildly. And Israelis report some of the highest levels of happiness in the Western world. Zionism, Newhouse argues, is a recipe for everyone.
Is this merely wish-casting — an expression of the author’s political preferences? Not so fast. It looks like large swathes of European nationalists feel similarly. Listening to their critiques of their own societies, it is procreative confidence, pride, muscularity, and optimism that they identify as both lacking and desirable.
And what of British Jews?
Their politics is also being redesigned. Like the rest of the UK, they are increasingly interested in the newly popular right-wing and left-wing forces — Reform UK and the Green Party. Like the rest of the UK, they are less interested in the old political brands, Conservatives and Labour. Recent surveys of British Jews make this clear.
Yet British Jews are not overwhelmingly aligned with Reform UK. The extent to which nationalist pro-Israel sentiment affects Jewish voting behavior remains unclear. At the risk of sounding dramatic, this resembles unreturned love.
Put more analytically: British Jews, and Diaspora Jews more broadly, do not share a single unified vision of their host societies — or of themselves. People often speak of “Jewish interests.” Perhaps the only idea that unites both antisemites and philosemites is the belief that Jews have some collective “interest” that they coordinate politically. The difference is that antisemites describe this alleged interest in sinister terms, while philosemites relate to it with sympathy. Both miss the point.
Jewish political instincts do not boil down to guarding some uniquely defined and unambiguous “Jewish interest.” Jews are as divided over what is good for them as their host societies are. And that is perhaps the best-kept secret about Jewish politics.
So what are these competing visions of society now being contested in Britain?
One vision, promoted by British nationalists, holds that nations are natural units of human existence. Their elites, however flawed, should take care of them. Borders should be guarded. National identity should be celebrated. In that broad family of nations, Britain, Israel, and the West more generally are benevolent forces — associated with lifestyles conducive to freedom and prosperity.
An opposing vision, promoted by the far left and expressed eloquently by the leader of the British Green Party, Zac Polanski, is one in which no country has a right to exist. Similar sentiments have been voiced before. In this worldview, individuals — not nations — are the natural units of humanity. Nations are retrograde, perhaps ridiculous. End of story. Full stop.
From this menu of national versus post-national dishes, the whole of the West — majorities and minorities alike, including Jews — is now choosing. These choices dictate voting behavior and political rhetoric.
If we adopt this framework, the nationalists’ love of Israel at this particular historical moment, as well as Jewish ambivalence toward nationalist parties, becomes simultaneously explainable. Until now, both the nationalist affection for Israel and Jewish lack of enthusiasm for nationalists have seemed puzzling. But a single explanation that solves several puzzles at once is usually the strongest explanation — assuming Occam’s razor still holds.
In today’s West, broadly speaking, whoever loves the West loves Israel. The two loves are connected because Israel is perceived as the West — condensed, sharpened, and made morally legible. By extension, whoever cannot tolerate the West cannot bear Israel.
And so, as long as the West remains capable of self-love at all, Israel will remain acceptable in its books.
Dr. Daniel Staetsky is an expert in Jewish demography and statistics. He is based in Cambridge, UK.
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Exposing The New York Times’ Tucker Carlson Interview
Tucker Carlson speaks on first day of AmericaFest 2025 at the Phoenix Convention Center in Phoenix, Arizona, Dec. 18, 2025. Photo: Charles-McClintock Wilson/ZUMA Press Wire via Reuters Connect
Like everyone who has sat down in recent months to interview Tucker Carlson, The New York Times’ Lulu Garcia‑Navarro too often allowed him to do what he does best: answer anything and everything with a mixture of sophistry, dishonesty, and vagueness.
Overall, she did a better job than most. Economist editor‑in‑chief Zanny Minton Beddoes, for example, all but avoided Carlson’s most insidious claims about Israel and Jews in her own interview, preferring to spar with him on safer, domestic territory.
Garcia‑Navarro, by contrast, doesn’t duck the subject at all.
Naming the Trope Without Truly Challenging It
She pointedly asked him about “rhetoric where everything is blamed on Israel, where Israel is seen as the core of all of these problems,” and notes how his rhetoric “has echoes of the Protocols of the Elders of Zion,” rhetoric that “opens the door to this idea that there is a very powerful sect of Jewish people who want global war and global conflict.”
She challenged his platforming of Nick Fuentes and tied it to Holocaust denial and to the way dehumanizing language paves the way for mass violence.

“The Holocaust didn’t start with the gassing of Jews. It started with the dehumanization of Jews, with the way that they were spoken about, with the language that was used,” she told him. It is a powerful line.
But she followed it with a curiously soft question: “Why do you think you get tagged so often with antisemitism?”
“Tagged” as antisemitic? Why ask Carlson how he feels about the label rather than confront him with his own words?
Why press him him on his claim that Dick Cheney’s office was “completely controlled … by people who were putting Israel’s interests above America’s interests,” or his description of Donald Trump as a “slave” to Benjamin Netanyahu and his “advocates in the United States,” and ask him directly how that is not trafficking in classic antisemitic narratives about Jews driving wars?
Why not force him to account for his line that “Israel pushed the United States president” into war with Iran and sought to keep the conflict going until Iran was “destroyed and chaotic, which is the Israeli goal”?
The Question Garcia-Navarro Never Really Asked
What Garcia‑Navarro too often failed to do is what so many interviewers before her have also failed to do: ask Carlson for evidence and stay on the claim until he either substantiates it or admits he cannot. When he portrayed Trump as a “hostage” and “slave” to Netanyahu and suggested Israeli leaders drove both the Iraq and Iran wars, she largely let those claims stand without demanding proof in the moment.
At his most evasive, Carlson falls back on one of his most familiar tactics: either feigning ignorance or retreating into an undefined “they.”
To her credit, Garcia‑Navarro did at one point press him on that famous “they” — asking him explicitly who “they” are when he talks about shadowy forces pushing Trump toward war. That, precisely, is what a good interviewer should do.
Carlson’s “They” and the Return of Old Conspiracies
But then, at other moments, she let him wriggle away. She raised the Protocols of the Elders of Zion herself, clearly aware of how central that forged text is to the idea of a Jewish cabal manipulating global events. Carlson responds by saying he has merely “heard references to it” and that it is “like a Tsarist forgery or something.”
This is one of the most prominent right‑wing media figures in America, a man who opines constantly about antisemitism, Jews, and Israel. How is it conceivable that he has not properly “heard of” one of the foundational antisemitic texts of the last century? Why not simply ask that? Why not point out that he is disavowing knowledge of the book while reproducing its very structure in his claims about shadowy pro‑Israel forces controlling presidents and forcing wars?
Letting Conspiracy Theories Stand Unchallenged
Carlson deserves to be challenged at the level of evidence, not just rhetoric.
On Iraq, he made the claim that former Vice President Cheney’s office was being controlled before concluding, “I would say the Iraq war was to a great extent a product of that.” On Iran, he similarly claimed that “Israel pushed the United States president” and that Israeli strikes on civilians in Lebanon were designed to sabotage diplomacy and “keep this going until Iran was destroyed and chaotic, which is the Israeli goal.”
On the latter point, Garcia‑Navarro mostly restated his claims and tacitly accepted the framing by asking why Trump has been uniquely susceptible compared with previous presidents. On both wars, she never put to Carlson the obvious counter‑facts: post‑9/11 doctrine, US intelligence assessments, the role of Gulf states, or Iran’s own conduct. She never tests whether “Israel did it” is anything more than a monocausal conspiracy theory.
Israel’s Legitimacy Treated as an Open Question
The same pattern holds for Israel’s basic legitimacy. Carlson was allowed, repeatedly, to pivot to his preferred talking points. He questioned whether Israel has any “unique right to exist” based on scripture and whether “people whose ancestors didn’t live here now occupy the land.”
Garcia‑Navarro did note that this rhetoric veers into delegitimizing Israel as the homeland of the Jewish people, but she did not test his reasoning. Israel is not a case of “Bible or bust.” There are non‑theological bases for its legitimacy — UN partition, international recognition, state practice — that never entered the conversation.
By keeping the debate locked inside Carlson’s chosen frame — is Israel’s biblical claim valid? — the interview ended up treating the very question of Israel’s right to exist as an open, almost abstract dilemma.
Would Garcia‑Navarro ever entertain, in the same way, the question of whether Algeria or Pakistan “really” have a right to exist, on the grounds that their borders are disputed and their populations include people “whose ancestors didn’t live there” a hundred years ago?
The New York Times Problem
In that sense, Garcia‑Navarro becomes a proxy for broader New York Times tendencies. She is very good at naming labels: antisemitism, “cabal” tropes, the Holocaust, genocide, “delegitimizing Israel.”
But when Carlson made concrete empirical claims — that Israel decides US wars, that it deliberately targets civilians in Lebanon to blow up peace talks, that “hundreds” of people in Britain have been arrested simply for “criticizing Israel,” that Israel practices “collective punishment” — she rarely forced him to supply proof or confront counter‑evidence.
The Times is comfortable talking about antisemitism as a feeling or fear. It is much less comfortable adjudicating factual narratives about Israel, even when those narratives echo some of the oldest antisemitic myths in circulation.
Antisemitism as Rhetoric, Not Fact-Checking
That asymmetry runs through the interview. Throughout, Garcia‑Navarro seems more at ease challenging Carlson on certain narratives than others. She pushed repeatedly on his theological musings about Trump as a possible “Antichrist” and on Christian morality in the age of Trump. Yet she took a comparatively light touch toward Carlson’s sweeping claims about Israel’s agency and Israel as the prime driver of Middle Eastern conflict.
That choice is particularly striking because Garcia‑Navarro is not a novice on these issues. She has previously hosted ADL chief executive Jonathan Greenblatt to discuss antisemitism, anti‑Zionism, and “double standards” toward Israel, and she has reported extensively on Israel and the Palestinians. She knows that “Israel controls US policy” narratives are a staple of modern antisemitism. Precisely because she knows this, the decision to let so many of those claims pass without forensic challenge is important.
When Caveats Replace Journalism
When a platform as powerful as The New York Times invites Tucker Carlson to explain why Israel supposedly drives American wars, the minimum journalistic standard cannot be to name the antisemitic tropes and then leave his assertions hanging in the air.
It has to be to interrogate them, to demand evidence, and to put his story about Israel alongside the facts about how US policy is actually made. Otherwise, even a well‑meaning interview risks laundering a familiar narrative — that a small, uniquely suspect Jewish state and “its advocates” pull the strings — into the mainstream with only the thinnest of caveats.
The author is a contributor to HonestReporting, a Jerusalem-based media watchdog with a focus on antisemitism and anti-Israel bias — where a version of this article first appeared.
