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What I learned about antisemitism from a remarkable new archive about Jewish Civil War soldiers
(JTA) — Max Glass, a recent immigrant from Hungary, had an unhappy Civil War.
Tricked out of his enlistment bonus when he joined the Eighth Connecticut Infantry — recent arrivals were soft touches for scam artists — Glass was then “abused for reason [sic] that I never understand” by men in his regiment. “It may have been,” he speculated,
becaus I did not make them my companions in drinking, or as I am a Jew. If I went in the street or any wher I was called Jew. Christh Killer & such names. I also had stones, dirt thrown at me.
He complained to his commanding officer, begging to be transferred, because “no man that had feeling could stand such treatment,” but to no avail. Finally, Glass fled his regiment, hoping to receive better treatment if he enlisted in the Navy. Instead he was tried as a deserter and sentenced to hard labor.
Glass was not the only Jewish soldier to be cruelly mistreated when serving in the Union Army. But as the new Shapell Roster of Jewish Service in the Civil War demonstrates, his experience was far from typical.
I explored the Shapell Roster while working on my new book, on the experience of Jewish soldiers in the Union army. What I learned from the vast collection of documents and data was that indifference, benign curiosity and comradeship appear to have been much more common than conflict for the majority of Jewish soldiers in the Union army.
For every Max Glass there was a Louis Gratz. Born in Posen, Prussia, Gratz scraped by as a peddler before the war. Enlisting in April 1861 — just days after the war started — he took to military life. By August he had become an officer. As he proudly wrote to his family,
I have now become a respected man in a respected position, one filled by very few Jews. I have been sent by my general to enlist new recruits so I am today in Scranton, a city in Pennsylvania only twenty miles from Carbondale, where I had peddled before. Before this no one paid any attention to me here; now I move in the best and richest circles and am treated with utmost consideration by Jews and Christians.
In contrast to Max Glass, his letters whisper not a word about prejudice. As my new book on the experience of Jewish soldiers in the Union army demonstrates, Gratz’s experience was not unusual.
Max Glass ultimately escaped his sorry start in the army through the intercession of General Benjamin Butler. After reading Glass’ tale of woe, the general pardoned the hapless Hungarian. In doing so, Butler seemingly followed Abraham Lincoln’s lead when confronted by antisemitism within the Union army. The president, after all, had quickly countermanded Ulysses S. Grant’s General Orders Number 11 expelling Jews from the districts under his command, the “most notorious anti-Jewish official order in American history,”
But alas this story does not have a redemptive ending. Beyond the rank and file, Jews felt the sting of prejudice. The damage done in wartime left a legacy of antisemitism that continues to this day.
For even as General Butler was pardoning Max Glass, he was locked in a heated public exchange that reveals how wartime warped attitudes towards Jews. The imbroglio began when Butler took special note of the fact that a small group of smugglers, recently detained by the Union army, were Jewish. When challenged, the combative general refused to apologize. Instead, he countered that deceit and disloyalty were among the defining characteristics of Jews, and that avarice was a particularly Jewish avocation. According to his logic, Jews could never become loyal Americans because they preferred profit to patriotism.
An 1877 cartoon from the satirical newspaper Puck illustrates the antisemitic practices of the Grand Union Hotel in Saratoga, New York. The cartoon compares the corrupt gentile clients favored by the hotel, center, with respectable (albeit stereotypical) Jewish figures, including Jesus. (Library of Congress)
Butler’s corrosive claims reflected a steady drip of acid on the home-front that began in 1861. In the first year of the war, Jews felt the sting of prejudice as the “shoddy” scandals captured the public imagination. Military contractors were publicly accused of fleecing the army by supplying substandard uniforms and gear, even as soldiers shivered in the field for want of decent clothing.
In seeking to explain the profiteering and corruption that attended the rush to war, the press summoned the specter of the venal and disloyal Jew. Cartoonists delighted in identifying Jews as the archetypal cunning contractors, who not only refused to enlist but also actively undermined the war effort. Jews were also imagined as the speculators who profited at the expense of the common good and as smugglers who traded with the enemy. Butler, in other words, was drawing on calumnies that became common currency during wartime.
The contractor, smuggler, speculator and shirker, however, were more than just figures of scorn. Jews and other “shoddy aristocrats” came to be seen as the creators and beneficiaries of the new economic and social order produced by the war. This “shoddy aristocracy” — whose morals and manners marked them as undesirable, whose profits were ill gained, and whose power derived from money alone — was imagined to lord it over a new and unjust social heap summoned into being by the chaos and disruption of war.
Even as the heated rhetoric of the war years receded after 1865, these ideas remained primed for action. They were returned to service in the Gilded Age.
It was no coincidence that the episode traditionally identified as initiating modern antisemitism in America — the exclusion of Joseph Seligman by Henry Hilton from the Grand Union Hotel in Saratoga Springs on May 31, 1877 — had at its center a man who had made a fortune as a contractor and banker during the Civil War. Seligman, a friend of President Grant, was viewed as an exemplar of the new capitalism that was remaking America.
Henry Hilton slandered Seligman as “shoddy—false—squeezing—unmanly,” a social climber who “has to push himself upon the polite.” Hilton drew upon themes familiar from wartime antisemitism: the Jew as speculator who trafficked in credit and debt; the Jew as obsequious ingratiator who attached himself to the powerful; the Jew as profiteer who advanced by improper means; the Jew as vulgarian who flaunted his (and her) obscene wealth and did not know his (or her) place; and the Jew as overlord whose money allowed him (or her) to displace others. In short, the “Seligman Jew” was the “shoddy aristocrat” by another name.
In an age of inequality and excess, the antisemite imagined the Jew as embodying all that was wrong with American capitalism. And during an age of mass immigration from Romania and the Russian Empire, they soon added another theme familiar from General Butler’s wartime diatribe: The Jew could not be trusted to become fully American.
Sadly, even as Louis Gratz, Max Glass and many other Jewish soldiers became American by serving in the Union army, the Civil War produced a range of pernicious ideas about Jews that have proven remarkably durable. We have escaped the everyday torments that afflicted Max Glass, but are still haunted in the present by the fantasies of Benjamin Butler and Henry Hilton.
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The post What I learned about antisemitism from a remarkable new archive about Jewish Civil War soldiers appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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‘Text me when you get home’ — on confronting hatred as both a woman and a Jew
There’s a universal language that every young woman I know speaks. It’s an expectation, a pact even, to “text me when you get home.” A baseline understanding that the walk home isn’t always safe for us.
A different dialect of that same universal language exists across our Jewish community. It shows up when my mom texts me to ask, “does your shul have good enough security?” before I walk into Shabbat or high holiday services.
Being a Jewish woman in America means having to constantly do the calculus of how to be safe as a woman and as a Jew. And I know that my experience is not unique. With antisemitism rampant and other forms of hate still deeply embedded in our society, so many people across America with overlapping and intersecting identities — people of color, trans people and others — are also doing this calculus every single day.
The question I keep asking myself is why? Not why we have to do this constant mental exercise, but why it isn’t getting any easier. The FBI reported a decline in hate crimes in 2025, but those numbers don’t tell the whole story. Hate crimes often go unreported, whether because people don’t feel safe reporting to law enforcement or because agencies lack the training, resources and requirements to properly identify and document them. And beyond what gets counted, hateful rhetoric, threats, and violence continue to shape how we move through the world. Hate permeates our daily lives in ways that statistics alone cannot capture.
Turn on the news or scroll through Instagram on any given day and you can see why we don’t feel safer, despite what the data is telling us. You can see that the static noise of hate and violence continues to intrude on every aspect of our lives.
Our lives — across identities and generations — have been marked by hate, by story after story of deadly attacks at synagogues, mosques, churches, schools and supermarkets.
Twelve years ago, a man fueled by his hatred of women killed six and injured 14 people in Isla Vista, California — my hometown. When I think about that time in my life, I don’t think about graduating high school or my senior prom. I think about the flashes of images of my town, of the victims, on the news. And eight years ago today, a gunman took the lives of 11 congregants and wounded six others in an antisemitic attack at the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh. It was the day before my 22nd birthday, another moment in my life now marked by grief.
Hate and hate-motivated violence are not new phenomena in our country. But in the last decade, we have seen a normalization of hate that is both new and devastatingly familiar.
We have seen this normalization fester online, where once fringe antisemitic, misogynistic, racist, and anti-immigrant beliefs — like those held by the Isla Vista and Tree of Life attackers — are now part of mainstream conversations. We have seen this normalization take hold in our halls of power, where our president, members of Congress, and leaders around the country not only legitimize but promote hateful rhetoric and conspiracy theories.
And, we have seen this normalization thrive in policy, where hate and violence are being systematized in executive orders and legislation by the same leaders who made it normal. Policy can and should be used as a shield to keep people safe. Instead, it’s being weaponized before our very eyes to foster an environment where hate can thrive.
It’s no wonder we don’t feel safe when our president and many of our lawmakers are using their power to target women, LGBTQ+ people, immigrants, and so many others. It’s no wonder we question whether our institutions will protect us when the Department of Justice cancels grants supporting victims and programs designed to prevent hate and violence. And it’s no wonder survivors of gender-based and sexual violence feel abandoned when this administration is deliberately refusing to use Title IX to protect them but is instead weakening this law to harm trans people.
For people my age, who grew up with social media and the 24-hour news cycle that brought reports of hate directly into our homes, it can be hard to fathom what to do at this moment. But there are people all around us who not only know what to do, but have done it before.
I spend my days at National Council of Jewish Women (NCJW) working to dismantle antisemitism and the hate plaguing all of our communities. I am fortunate to work with and learn from people who have dedicated their lives to building a world where every person can feel safe and thrive. We are fighting every day to ensure that our institutions and our laws protect people from hate, violence, and discrimination. NCJW has been doing this work for over a century, and we know that progress is not inevitable.
The Matthew Shepard and James Byrd Jr. Hate Crime Prevention Act, signed into law 17 years ago this week, was the result of nearly 20 years of advocacy — a reminder that disrupting hate and building a safer world requires perseverance. It takes leaders willing to fight against hatred, not embrace it. And, it takes partners, allies, friends, and neighbors to move the work forward together.
That is why we have no choice but to keep showing up, to keep fighting, even when the hate and violence all around us feels like it has taken over our lives. We have to keep working, every day, to build that world we seek, where our rights, our safety, and our dignity are not up for debate.
And hopefully, one day, we will all live in a world where we don’t have to say “text me when you get home.”
The post ‘Text me when you get home’ — on confronting hatred as both a woman and a Jew appeared first on The Forward.
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Seeking funding for a Yiddish project for kids or young people?
די פֿישמאַן-פֿונדאַציע פֿאַר ייִדישער קולטור האָט געמאָלדן אַז זי נעמט שוין אָן סובווענץ-אַפּליקאַציעס אויף נײַע פּראָיעקטן פֿאַרן יאָר 2027. די פּראָיעקטן דאַרפֿן האָבן פֿאַר אַ ציל דאָס שטאַרקן ייִדיש ווי אַ לעבעדיקע שפּראַך, באַזונדערס בײַ קינדער און דער יוגנט.
דער טערמין פֿאַר אַפּליקאַציעס פֿאַרן יאָר 2027 איז דער 7טער נאָוועמבער 2026. די אויסגעטיילטע סובווענצן וועט מען מעלדן אין דעצעמבער.
אַלע אַפּליקאַציעס מוזן זײַן אָנגעשריבן אויף ייִדיש און דאַרפֿן נאָכפֿאָלגן די אַפּליקיר-אָנווײַזונגען וואָס איר קענט געפֿינען דאָ.
אַפּליקאַציעס וועלן ווערן באַטראַכט אויף קאָנקורס-יסודות. מען בעט מען זאָל אַרײַנשיקן אַן אַפּליקאַציע (מיט אַלע נייטיקע בײַלייגונגען) דורך בליצפּאָסט צו:
applications@fishmanfoundation.org
The post Seeking funding for a Yiddish project for kids or young people? appeared first on The Forward.
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Democrats leader Golan approached by man with knife on Israeli election day
(JTA) — JERUSALEM — Israel Police arrested a man carrying a large knife after he approached Yair Golan, head of the Democrats party, as Golan was campaigning in Tel Aviv on Election Day.
“Contrary to reports, no stabbing attempt occurred,” the police spokesman said in a statement.
The police said officers at the scene noticed a “suspicious object” protruding from beneath the coat of a man standing nearby. When they stopped him for inspection, they found a knife in his possession.
In a statement, Golan’s party said the man approached Golan “in a threatening manner” and that “when Golan’s security guards blocked him, a large knife slipped from beneath his clothing and fell to the ground.”
Police described the suspect as a Jerusalem resident in his 20s. He was arrested and taken to a local police station for questioning. They said the investigation “is ongoing.”
Following the incident, Golan said “incitement and violence will not deter us.” In a statement to the press he blamed the attack on Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s negative campaigning and highlighted the ties between one of his spokespeople and Qatar.
“This is the direct result of the poison machine operated by Netanyahu and his Qatari agents. I call on everyone who cares about security and democracy to go out and vote now, so that we can ensure the country we love so dearly becomes a free and safe place once again,” Golan said.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post Democrats leader Golan approached by man with knife on Israeli election day appeared first on The Forward.
