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The exhausting, never-ending job of debunking antisemitic conspiracy theories
(JTA) — A few days after the comedian Dave Chappelle appeared to justify the never-ending appeal of Jewish conspiracy theories, this sentence appeared in the New York Times: “Bankman-Fried is already drawing comparisons to Bernie Madoff.”
I’ll explain: Sam Bankman-Fried is the 30-year-old founder of FTX, the crypto-currency exchange that vaporized overnight, leaving more than 1 million creditors on the hook. Bernie Madoff, is, of course, Bernie Madoff, the financier who defrauded thousands of investors through a multibillion-dollar Ponzi scheme and died in prison.
It’s a fair comparison, as a former regulator tells CNN: “Bankman-Fried, like Madoff, proved adept at using his pedigree and connections to seduce sophisticated investors and regulators into missing ‘red flags,’ hiding in plain sight.”
Nevertheless, seeing these Jewish figures lumped together, I braced myself for the inevitable: Nasty tweets about Jews and money. Slander from white supremacists. Plausibly deniable chin-scratching from more “mainstream” commentators.
What comes next is a familiar script: Jewish defense groups issue statements saying conspiracy theories traffic in centuries-old antisemitic tropes and pose a danger to the Jews. Jewish news outlets like ours post “explainers” describing how these myths take hold.
It’s exhausting, having to deny the obvious: that a group of people who don’t even agree on what kind of starch to eat on Passover regularly scheme to bilk innocents, manipulate markets or control the world. And it often seems the very attempt to explain these lies and their popularity ends up feeding the beast.
Chappelle’s now notorious monologue on “Saturday Night Live” is a case in point. At first pass, it is a characteristically mischievous attempt to both mock the rapper Kanye West for his antisemitism, and to push boundaries to explain why a troubled Black entertainer might feel aggrieved in an industry with a historic over-representation of Jews. Jon Stewart certainly heard it that way, telling Stephen Colbert, “Look at it from a Black perspective. It’s a culture that feels that its wealth has been extracted by different groups. That’s the feeling in that community, and if you don’t understand where it’s coming from, then you can’t deal with it.”
That is a useful message, but consider the messenger. Chappelle appears to disapprove of West’s conspiracy-mongering, but never once discusses the harm it might cause to the actual targets of the conspiracies. Instead, he focuses on the threat such ideas pose to the careers and reputations of entertainers like him and West. The “delusion that Jews run show business,” said Chappelle, is “not a crazy thing to think,” but “it’s a crazy thing to say out loud.” He ends the routine by ominously invoking the “they” who might end his career.
That’s what critics meant when they said Chappelle “normalized” antisemitism: He described where it’s coming from, explained why his peers might feel that way, and only criticized it to the degree that it could lead the purveyors to be cancelled. It’s like saying, “You don’t have to vaccinate your kids. Just don’t tell anybody.”
This week I worked with a colleague on an article about how the “Jews control Hollywood” myth took hold, and at each step of the way I wondered if we were stoking the fire we were trying to put out. No, Jews don’t control Hollywood, we reported, but “nearly every major movie studio was founded in the early 20th century” by a Jew. Those moguls rarely used the movies as a platform to defend Jewish interests, but per Steven Spielberg, “Being Jewish in Hollywood is like wanting to be in the popular circle.”
A documentary shown Thursday night at the DOC NYC festival here in New York teeters on the edge of the same trap. “The Conspiracy,” directed by the Russian-American filmmaker Maxim Pozdorovkin and narrated by Mayim Bialik, uses 3-D animation to explain how conspiracists ranging from a 19th-century French priest to American industrialist Henry Ford placed three Jews — German financier Max Warburg, Russian revolutionary Leon Trotsky and falsely accused French soldier Alfred Dreyfus — at the center of a vast, contradictory and preposterous scheme to take over the world. It connects age-old Christian animosity to the Jews to centuries of antisemitic paranoia and fear-mongering that led to unspeakable violence at Kishinev, Auschwitz and Pittsburgh. “This myth has plagued the world for centuries,” Pozdorovkin explains.
Or at least that’s the message you and I might have gotten. But I can also see someone stumbling on this film and being seduced by the rage and cynicism of the conspiracy-mongers — who, I should note, are quoted at length. Part of the problem is the film’s aesthetic: a consistently dark palette and a “camera” that lingers on ugly examples of antisemitic propaganda. Even though these images are seen on a creepy “conspiracy wall” and connected with that red thread familiar from cop shows and horror films, I can well imagine an uninformed viewer asking why members of this tiny minority seem to be at the center of so many major events of the 19th and 20th centuries.
I was reminded of a joke by the Jewish comedian Modi, ridiculing the ritual of inviting celebrities accused of antisemitism to visit a Holocaust museum. “Which is the stupidest idea, ever,” he says. “You’re taking someone who hates Jews into a Holocaust museum. They come out of there [saying] ‘Wow! Oh my God, that was amazing! I want a T-shirt!’”
The poet and essayist Clint Smith, whose cover story in next month’s Atlantic explores the meanings of Holocaust museums in Germany, makes a similar point. After visiting the museum in Wannsee documenting the infamous meeting in which the Nazis plotted the Final Solution, he wonders: “Might someone come to a museum like this and be inspired by what they saw?”
The makers of “The Conspiracy” (oy, that title) obviously intend the very opposite. In an interview with the Forward, Pozdorovkin agrees with the interviewer’s suggestion that those “who most need to see this film might be the least likely to be convinced by it.”
“My hope is that this film has a trickle-down effect,” he explains.
The fault lies not with those who seek to expose antisemitism but with a society that relies on the victims to explain why they shouldn’t be victimized. As many have pointed out, antisemitism isn’t a Jewish problem; it’s a problem for the individuals and societies who pin their unhappiness and neuroses on a convenient scapegoat. Ultra-nationalism and intolerance are the soil in which conspiracies take root.
But as long as scapegoating remains popular and deadly, the victims have to keep explaining and explaining the obvious — that, for instance, the fact that Sam Bankman-Fried and Bernie Madoff are Jewish is no more significant than the fact that Henry Ford and Elon Musk, two people who founded car companies, are gentiles.
The question is, who is listening?
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The post The exhausting, never-ending job of debunking antisemitic conspiracy theories appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Her parents fled Mexico and Mandatory Palestine, taking their traumas with them
When Colette Ghunim’s parents first met in 1978, they quickly learned they had something in common: They both were forced to leave their homelands.
In her documentary Traces of Home, Ghunim travels with her immediate family back to her parents’ home cities. Hosni, Ghunim’s father, was expelled with his family from Safed, Mandatory Palestine, in 1948, when he was four years old. Ghunim’s mother Iza left Mexico City as a child to escape her abusive father. The film uses archival footage from Ghunim’s childhood, photos from her parents’ past, and animation to portray the harrowing journeys both her parents took. It’s a moving study of how trauma is inherited, but skirts some of the geopolitical issues at its core.
Ghunim, director of The People’s Girls, a documentary about sexual harassment in Egypt, explains in Traces that she never felt truly connected to either of her ethnic backgrounds, Mexican or Palesitnian. Her parents’ goal, she says, was to “make my life simple, safe, and American.”
It was also supposed to be tidy and unemotional. Archival footage shows Ghunim at five years old reading a letter from “Santa” reminding her of her promise to her mom: “No more crying.” Such a display of unpleasant feeling would disrupt the image of a perfect household.
The film unpacks how these expectations were in part the way Ghunim’s parents responded to their traumatic pasts — but these restrictions had unintentional consequences for their children: Ramsey developed an abusive relationship with alcohol in college; Ghunim turned to binge eating as a coping mechanism.
The trickling down of emotional damage from Ghunim’s parents to her feels like an apt metaphor for the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. The Jews that came to Israel were carrying pain of their own, fleeing persecutions and pogroms in Europe. The resulting conflict has further harmed both Israelis and Palestinians.
Although the parallels between how the region and Ghunim have inherited burdens feels apparent, it’s not part of the film. Hosni summarizes the founding of Israel as Britain supporting Jewish European settlers by giving them Palestine. For some, the broader context of why Jews were fleeing Europe may seem irrelevant, but within the context of a film about transitory trauma, its absence feels striking.
We do see how badly trust has broken down in the Middle East. While trying to find Hosni’s old home in Safed, Hosni approaches a local man, telling him “I could tell from your face you are Arab.” The man turns out to be a Syrian Jew who has lived in Safed a long time. While trying to help them locate Hosni’s house, he grows visibly agitated thinking about what Hosni has lost. He rushes to assure the group that he feels bad for Hosni, telling them “Don’t think that I’m a bad Israeli.”
As their search starts to prove futile, Ghunim begins to cry.
“It’s OK,” her father assures her as he hugs her. Maybe worried about her breaking the promise she made to her mom when she was five, he tells her “Calm down.”
But keeping our feelings inside is often easier said than done. And, as Traces shows, it rarely is the right thing to do.
Traces of Home is premiering at DOC NYC on November 14, with a subsequent screening on November 15.
The post Her parents fled Mexico and Mandatory Palestine, taking their traumas with them appeared first on The Forward.
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So, there was a swastika at my Airbnb
A few weekends ago I went upstate for a wedding, and briefly lived like a Victorian gentleman with a problematic taste in interior design.
Staying in a historic mansion (h/t Airbnb) in Newburgh, New York, I felt transported into a game of Clue, minus the murder. Was it me in the study with a sandwich? The parlor had a marble bust redolent of antiquity. From my top floor room there were panoramic views of the Hudson hills bursting with fall foliage. And then there was, at the corner of the landing … well, as I told my girlfriend, it’s more of a visual.
“Please do not be alarmed, but there are sauvastikas (more commonly known as swastikas) inlaid in the corners of the floors dating back to 1866, before Hitler was born,” the extensive house instructions said.
I wasn’t alarmed, more amused. (For context, the guests were almost entirely Asian with a couple of Ashkenazi Jews — and a miniature poodle.)
Of course I knew the Eastern origins of the motif. And I noted, as did our hosts, that these swastikas faced the opposite direction of the hooked cross favored by the Third Reich. The owners were right to say in their literature that the symbol “was stolen.”
Nazis really do ruin everything.
The architect, Frederick Withers, could only really be faulted for orientalism, which at the time wasn’t a dirty word. In any case, this was a landmark building registered with the historical society, and as such the swastikas couldn’t be altered. (“On a positive note,” our hosts added, “the original Tiffany stained glass window is well preserved up in the dining room.”)
At the wedding, I made the possible faux pas of mentioning the floors to friends of ours, one of whom grew up in India. It had just been Diwali, and he said kids draw swastikas everywhere during the festival.
“You’re taking it back,” I joked.
On the contrary, he said, they never really let it get taken away. Indians still use the swastika to signify peace and prosperity — its original meaning.
Maybe there’s a lesson there. Not really about ancient Indian symbols, but about what we feel comfortable letting Nazis get away with.
It’s long been a pet peeve of mine that so much of Jewish culture is boiled down to a period of about 12 years in a history that stretches back millennia. That public figures caught saying something antisemitic are immediately dispatched to the nearest Holocaust museum, rather than a Shabbat dinner or a museum of Jewish art.
When people online get defensive about their views on the Jews, they often mention how moved they were by Anne Frank’s diary, as if that was the answer key for understanding our peoplehood, and not just assigned reading. (In most schools in the U.S., the only time students hear anything about Jews is in a unit on the Holocaust.)
Members of the tribe are far from immune to this phenomenon. To be an educated, secular Jew, for many, is to have endured a screening of Schindler’s List — or, if you’re more ambitious, the more than 9 hours of Claude Lanzmann’s Shoah. You don’t see the Talmud in every Jewish home (granted, it takes up a lot of shelf space), but you can probably find a copy of William Shirer’s Rise and Fall of the Third Reich.
Jewish identity has been shaped by our persecution — and remembrance is an important Jewish imperative — but as I’m far from the first to point out, when we take history and memory culture to extremes, we end up ceding our own narrative to those who wanted to erase us.
As scholar Miriam Udel put it in her recent book, “The Holocaust is, in a profound sense, not a Jewish story.” This stopped me when I first read it, but the more I considered it, the more I saw her point. The way the Shoah is typically related, it’s not a story where Jews have a great deal of agency. Jews weren’t passive. Tales of resistance abound — and should be emphasized — but it’s still primarily a story in which something was done to the Jews, and for reasons the Jews had no real control over.
Indians don’t let Nazis have a monopoly on the swastika — why should Jews allow them to define Jewishness?
I am not advocating for the return of parquet-inlaid swastikas in Western homes, whatever their direction. I’m not even for a revival of the Hitler mustache that Michael Jordan once attempted to resuscitate in a Hanes undershirt commercial. But I do think there’s a wisdom in not permitting our enemies to distort our much older tradition.
In Yiddish, we say “mir veln zey iberlebn,” we will outlive them — them being Nazis, antisemites and the various Hamans that rise up in every generation. While today that seems aspirational, we must remember we were here first, and there’s far more to Jewish life than death.
The post So, there was a swastika at my Airbnb appeared first on The Forward.
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UK Health Secretary Warns of ‘Chilling’ Antisemitism in NHS as Jewish Patients Report Fear, Discrimination
Wes Streeting, the British secretary of state for health and social care, is seen in Westminster as he appears on Sunday politics shows, London, England, United Kingdom, Oct. 26, 2025. Photo: Tayfun Salci/ZUMA Press Wire via Reuters Connect
UK Health Secretary Wes Streeting called it “chilling” that some members of the Jewish community fear discrimination within the country’s National Health Service (NHS), as reports of antisemitism in Britain’s health-care system continue to rise.
In an interview with the local LBC radio show on Friday, Streeting was asked about the recent case of Dr. Martin Whyte, a pediatrician and former executive member of the British Medical Association (BMA), who received only a formal warning but was allowed to continue working despite several of his antisemitic posts going viral.
“My immediate gut reaction was unrepeatable on the radio at this time of the morning,” the British official said.
“This has been such a big story because we’ve seen undeniable, outrageous examples of vile antisemitism by people who clearly identify as NHS doctors,” Streeting continued.
“Those people have forgotten not only basic humanity, but also their professional responsibility to patients. No one entering the NHS should feel afraid or question whether they will be treated fairly because of their race or religion,” he said during the radio show.
On Monday, the UK’s top medical regulatory body, the General Medical Council (GMC), cleared Whyte to continue working as a pediatrician despite spreading hateful and antisemitic messages online, including references to “Jew banker goblins” and “gas the Jews.”
In the course of its investigation, the medical regulator concluded that Whyte did not hold bigoted beliefs and that his actions “fall just short of that which would be considered serious enough to pose a risk to public protection.”
This latest incident has sparked outrage among the local Jewish community and public officials, fueling broader concerns across the UK as rising antisemitism in health-care settings in recent months has left Jewish communities feeling unsafe and marginalized.
During the interview, Streeting recognized that many Jewish people hold a negative perception of the NHS.
“In my own constituency, which is very diverse and includes a significant Jewish community, people are afraid,” he said.
“People in the Jewish community fear they’re going to be treated unfairly or discriminated against because they are Jewish in our National Health Service. I think that’s chilling,” Streeting continued.
Amid a rising climate of hostility, Jewish expectant mothers are hiring doulas — a non-medical professional who supports women during childbirth — to shield themselves and their babies from bias, antisemitic attitudes, and the looming threat of inadequate medical care.
In an interview with the Jewish Chronicle, London-based doula Shoshana Maurer said that nearly every pregnant Jewish woman who has hired her since the Hamas-led Oct. 7, 2023, attacks on Israel feared encountering antisemitism from medical staff.
“There is no question that nearly every Jewish client I’ve had since Oct. 7 has had the same anxiety about antisemitism in hospitals: are they going to be treated the same way as everyone else, will they be treated badly?” Maurer said, referring to the Hamas-led invasion of and massacre across southern Israel.
According to media reports, many South African Jewish emigrants in the UK have also encountered — or fear encountering — antisemitism within the NHS.
In one instance, a South African-born radiographer working in a diagnostic breast-cancer unit outside London told the South African Jewish Report that the period after Oct. 7 left her “scared and unsafe” at work, ultimately prompting her to resign after management failed to take steps to make her feel protected.
Last month, British Prime Minister Keir Starmer unveiled a new plan to address what he described as “just too many examples, clear examples, of antisemitism that have not been dealt with adequately or effectively” in the NHS.
One notable case drawing attention involved Dr. Rahmeh Aladwan, a trainee trauma and orthopedic surgeon, who local police arrested on Oct. 21, charging her with four offenses related to malicious communications and inciting racial hatred.
Aladwan was arrested after the GMC allowed her to continue treating patients, despite several of her antisemitic social media posts going viral, including claims that the Royal Free Hospital in London is “a Jewish supremacy cesspit” and that “over 90% of the world’s Jews are genocidal.”
In a separate incident two months ago, a North London hospital suspended a physician who was under investigation for publicly claiming that all Jews have “feelings of supremacy” and downplaying antisemitism.