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A Black writer explores how Germany remembers its ‘unthinkable’ past
(JTA) — For his 2021 book “How the Word Is Passed,” winner of the National Book Critics Circle Award for Nonfiction, poet and journalist Clint Smith explored the landscape of American memory — specifically how the history of slavery is explained, commemorated, distorted and desecrated in sites across the United States.
While on tour promoting the book, he explained in an interview Tuesday, he’d often be asked if any country had gotten it right when it came to memorializing its own dark past. “I kept invoking the memorials in Germany, but I had never been to the memorials in Germany,” Smith said. “As a scholar, as a journalist, I felt like I had to do my due diligence and excavate the complexity and the nuance, and the emotional and human texture, that undergirds so many of these places and spaces.”
The result is December’s cover story in the Atlantic, “Monuments to the Unthinkable.” Smith traveled to Germany twice over the past two years, visiting Berlin’s Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, its Topography of Terror Museum, the museum in Wannsee where the Nazis plotted the Final Solution, and the concentration camp at Dachau, talking to historians and curators along the way. As a Black man wrestling with how America accounts for the crimes of its past, he went to learn from the experience of the Germans, who “are still trying to figure out how to tell the story of what their country did, and simultaneously trying to figure out who should tell it.”
In an interview, Smith talked about the inevitable differences between the Holocaust and the Atlantic slave trade, the similarities in how two countries — and communities — experience their histories, and how his article could serve as a bridge between African-Americans and Jews in a time of increasing tension between them.
Smith spoke to JTA from his parents’ home in his native New Orleans.
This interview was edited for length and clarity.
Jewish Telegraphic Agency: Your book is about the ways America succeeds and fails to come to terms with slavery, and your article is about the ways Germany is, in your phrase, “constructing public memory.” I was struck by someone who warned you, “Don’t go to Auschwitz.” What were they saying?
Clint Smith: It was Frederick Brenner, a Jewish man and a remarkable photographer who has photographed the Jewish Diaspora across the world for the past several decades, who said that, because people are standing [at Dachau] and they’re taking selfies, and it’s like “me in front of the crematorium” and “me in front of the barracks.” That was deeply unsettling to him, especially as someone whose family was largely killed in the Holocaust.
I don’t want to be reductive about it and say that you don’t want people to go to these spaces and take pictures. I think it’s all about the sort of disposition and sensibilities one brings to a space. If someone went to the Whitney Plantation in Louisiana, I don’t necessarily want them doing puckered-lip selfies in front of a slave cabin. I can understand why people wouldn’t want those places engaged with in that way, but you do want tourists to come, right? I mean, before the pandemic, 900,000 people visited Dachau every year, and part of what brings people to Dachau is seeing and taking a picture of the crematorium, taking a picture of themselves on this land in that space where history happened, and posting it online. And maybe that serves as a catalyst for somebody else to make that journey for themselves.
You did go to Dachau, which you call a “memorial to the evil that once transpired there.”
I am a huge believer in putting your body in the place where history happened. I stood in many places that carry the history of violence: plantations, execution chambers, death row. But I’ve never experienced the feeling in my body that I felt when I stood in the gas chamber at Dachau. And you just see the way that this space was constructed, with the sort of intentional, mechanized slaughter that it was meant to enact on people. The industrialized nature of it was something unlike anything I’d ever experienced before and it made me feel so much more proximate to that history in ways that I don’t think I would have ever experienced otherwise.
Physically standing in a concentration camp and physically standing and putting my body in the gas chamber fundamentally changed my understanding of the emotional texture and the human and psychological implications of it. Because when you’re in those spaces you’re able to more fully imagine what it might have been like to be in that space. And then you can imagine these people, these families, these women, these children who were marched into camps throughout Europe. You can never fully imagine the fear, that sense of desperation that one would have felt, but in some ways, it’s the closest we can get to it if you are someone who did not have family who lived through or survived the Holocaust. It provided me with a radical sense of empathy. And that’s why I took the trip in the first place.
A tourist takes a selfie inside the Memorial to the Murdered Jews Of Europe in Berlin, Sept. 25, 2019. (Beata Zawrzel/NurPhoto via Getty Images)
By contrast, there are the memorials that are not historical sites, but either sculptural or architectural, like Berlin’s Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, nearly five acres of concrete slabs. What do you think makes an effective memorial that isn’t necessarily the historical place itself, but a specifically memorial project?
Well, for example, the big one in Berlin. It’s just so enormous. The scale and scope of it was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. I tried to imagine what an American analog would be like. What if in the middle of downtown Manhattan there was a 200,000-square-foot memorial, with thousands of stone columns, dedicated to commemorating the lives of indigenous people who were killed in the early Americas? Or a 200,000-square-foot memorial in the middle of downtown D.C., not far from the White House, to the lives of enslaved people?
With that said, what I found really valuable were the people I spoke to, who had very different relationships to that space. Some thought of that memorial as something that was so meaningful because of its size and because of its scope, and because it was a massive state-sanctioned project. And then there were others who thought that it was too abstract, that it was too passive, even in its name, right, the “Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe,” which sounds as if something happened to people without naming the people who enacted the harm and who committed the crime. Those are the sort of nuances and complexities that I wanted to spend more time with, and found really valuable because, in the same way, descendants of enslaved people here in the United States have many different conceptions of what the iconography of slavery should look like or what repair and reparations to slavery should be made.
You write about the “stumbling stones” or “Stolpersteine”: Those are the small brass plaques placed in the streets, inscribed with the names of Holocaust victims and placed in front of their last known residence. The stones are exactly the opposite scale of the Berlin memorial.
Right. I think that is the memorial that I was most struck by: the largest decentralized memorial in the world, with 90,000 stones across 30 different European countries. I remember the moment I was walking down the street looking for landmarks and saw my first Stolpersteine, and I only saw it because at that moment the clouds moved and the sun shone off the brass stone. You see the name, the birth date, the deportation date, the death date, the place where the person was killed. You walk past another home, you see seven; you walk past another home, you see 12. You begin to imagine entire lives based on the names and information that exist on these stones. It creates this profound sense of intimacy, this profound sense of closeness to the history and it’s so human, because it’s individual people and individual names.
One of the most valuable things about the stumbling stone project, I think, is all the work that precedes it. It’s the school students who are doing research to find out about the lives of the people who were taken from the home across the street from their school. It’s the people in the apartment complex, who come together and decide that they’re going to figure out who were the Jewish families who lived in that apartment complex before them. And sometimes it’s really remarkable, granular details about people’s lives: what their favorite food was, what their favorite flavor of ice cream was, what the child liked.
Artist Gunter Demnig lays “stumbling stones” that memorialize persecuted or murdered Jews on the streets of Frankfurt. (Boris Roessler/picture alliance via Getty Images)
As Gunter Demnig, the originator of the project, says, 6 million people is a huge abstraction, and now it becomes about one man, one woman, one child, and [people] realize that it truly was not that long ago. There are so many survivors of the Holocaust who are still with us. Gunter Demnig, his father fought for the German army. He represents this generation of people who are engaging in a sort of contrition for the acts of their parents and their grandparents.
You ask in the piece what it would look like for a similar project to be created in the United States as a memorial to enslaved people.
I’m from New Orleans, and the descendant of enslaved people in New Orleans, which was at one point the busiest slave market in the country. And as Barbara Steiner, a Jewish historian, said to me in Germany, entire streets [of New Orleans] would be covered in brass stones! That was such a striking moment for me. That helped me more fully realize the profound lack of markers and iconography and documentation that we have to enslaved people in our landscape here in the United States relative to that of Germany.
Why are physical monuments important? I have sometimes wondered why we spend so much money on the infrastructure of memory — statues, museums, memorials — and if that money could be better used for living memorials, like scholarships for the descendants of victims, say, or programs that study or archive evidence of genocide. Why is it important to see a statue or a museum or even a plaque?
First off, museums and statues and memorials and monuments are by no means a panacea. It is not the case that you put up some memorials or you lay down some Stolpersteine and suddenly antisemitism is gone. Obviously, Germany is a case study and is experiencing its own rise in antisemitism. And that’s something that’s deeply unsettling, and is not going to singularly be solved by memorials and monuments.
With that said, I think there is something to be said to regularly encounter physical markers and manifestations of the violence that has been enacted and crimes that have been done in your name, or to the people that you are the descendant of. I try to imagine Germany without any of these memorials and I think it would just be so much easier for antisemitism to become far more pervasive. Because when your landscape is ornamented by things that are outlining the history that happened there, it is much more difficult to deny its significance, it is much more difficult to deny that it happened, it is much more difficult not to have it shape the way you think about public policy. I do believe that if we had these sorts of markers in the United States, it wouldn’t solve the racial wealth gap, it wouldn’t solve racism, it wouldn’t solve discrimination. It wouldn’t eradicate white nationalism or white supremacy. But I do think it would play some role in recalibrating and reshaping our collective public consciousness, our collective sense of history in ways that would not be insignificant.
And to your point, my hope is that those things are never mutually exclusive. It’s a conversation that’s happening here in the United States with regard to how different institutions are accounting for their relationship to slavery. Universities are coming up with reports, presentations, panels and conferences that outline their relationship to the history of slavery, especially since the murder of George Floyd [in 2020]. Activists and descendants have pushed them to not just put out a report, or put up a plaque or make a monument. It’s also about, well, what are you going to do for the descendants of those people? Harvard, where I went to grad school, put $100 million aside specifically for those sorts of interventions. Places like Georgetown have made it so that people who were the descendants of those who are enslaved have specific opportunities to come to the school without paying. And people of good faith can disagree over whether those initiatives are commensurate with or enough to atone for that past, and I think the answer is almost inevitably no.
Certainly people on what we like to think of as the wrong side of history understood the importance of physical monuments in creating memory.
The origin story of my own book was that I watched the monuments come down in 2017, in my hometown in New Orleans, of Jefferson Davis, Robert E. Lee. I was thinking about what it meant that I grew up in a majority Black city, and there were more homages to enslavers than there were to enslaved people. What does it mean that to get to school I had to go down Robert E. Lee Boulevard? That to get to the grocery store, I had to go down Jefferson Davis Parkway? That my middle school was named after a leader of the Confederacy? And that my parents still live on a street today named after someone who owned 115 enslaved people? The names and iconography are reflective of the stories that people tell and those stories shaped the narratives that communities carry. And those narratives shape public policy and public policy is what shapes the material conditions of people’s lives.
One thing about Germany is that its national project of memory and repentance has been accompanied by a vast reparations program — for Israel, Jewish survivors, their families and programs to propagate Jewish culture. I wonder if you think Germany could have moved ahead without reparations? And can America ever fully grapple with the legacy of slavery without its own reparations?
The short answer is no. America cannot fully move forward from its past without reparations. The important thing is not to be limited and reductive in the way that we conceive of what reparations are or should look like. In some ways, I’m as interested if not more interested in what specific cities and states are doing in order to account for those histories and those crimes. For example, in Evanston, Illinois, they created a specific program to give reparations to Black families who experienced housing segregation, in a certain period of time, given how prevalent redlining was in and around Chicago in the mid-20th century. I know in Asheville, North Carolina, there’s a similar program that’s thinking about how to meaningfully engage in repair to the descendants of communities that were harmed from some of the policies that existed there. This is not to say that those programs themselves are perfect. But I think we sometimes talk about it so much on a federal level, that we forget the local opportunities that exist.
West German Chancellor Konrad Adenauer signs the reparations agreement between his country and Israel, Sept. 10, 1952. (United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, courtesy of Benjamin Ferencz, from “Reckonings”)
Many people who were redlined or experienced housing covenants — all the sort of insidious manifestations of wealth extraction that were part of Jim Crow — are still alive today. So sometimes it’s not even a question of what you have to give the descendants. Sometimes it’s like, what do you give the actual people who are still here?
That’s an important distinction you make in your article, about the difference between grappling with the past in Germany and the United States. In Germany, there are so few Jews, while in the U.S. we see the living evidence of slavery, not the evidence of absence.
That’s perhaps the greatest difference that allows for both a landscape of memory to be created in Germany, and also allows for Germany to pay reparations in ways that the United States is reluctant to do: Jewish people in Germany represent less than one quarter of one percent of the population of Germany. One of the folks I spoke to told me that Jewish people in Germany are a historical abstraction. Because there’s so few Jewish people left, because of the slaughter of the Holocaust. I think about the reparations that were given to Japanese Americans who were held in incarceration camps during World War II. They got $20,000 checks, which is not commensurate with what it means to be held in a prison camp for multiple years, and cannot totally atone for that. But part of the reason that can be enacted is that there’s a limited amount of people. There are 40 million black people in this country. So the economic implications of reparations are something fundamentally different here in the United States.
So let me ask you if there’s anything else you wanted to mention that we haven’t talked about.
I want to name specifically for your readers that I’m not and would never intend to conflate slavery and the Holocaust. They are qualitatively different historical phenomena that have their own specific complexities and should be understood on their own terms. With that said, I do think it can be helpful to put the two in conversation with one another, specifically in the profound ways that these two monumental periods of world history have shaped the modern world and how they are remembered in fundamentally different ways.
And there are similarities as well, which you write about.
I did find so many parallels. The Jewish people I spent time with in Germany explained that some of the manifestations of racism and anti-Blackness in the United States are not so different from the sort of manifestations of antisemitism that exist in Germany, especially as it relates to public memory. When I was at the museum devoted to the Wannsee conference, the executive director, Deborah Hartmann, told me that she and Deidre Berger [the chair of the executive board of the Jewish Digital Cultural Recovery Project Foundation] were talking about how Jewish people did not always have a seat at the table when these monuments and memorials were being built. Jewish people were not allowed to participate beyond a certain extent, because many Germans felt that Jewish people were not objective. Jewish historians couldn’t be taken seriously because they were too close to the history.
That just echoes so much of what Black scholars and historians have been told about their ability, or the lack thereof, to study the history of Black life. The godfather of African-American scholarship, W.E.B. Du Bois, was told by white scholars that he couldn’t be taken seriously because he was too close to the history of slavery.
Meanwhile, Deborah Hartmann talked about how so many of the historians and scholars who played a role in shaping the landscape of memory in Germany were themselves “close to the history,” including former members of the Hitler Youth.
Somebody sent me a message that really meant a lot to me this past week, basically saying that my essay is an exercise in “solidarity via remembrance” — in a moment where, unfortunately, there have been a lot of public manifestations of ideas and antisemitic remarks that might threaten to rupture a relationship between Black and Jewish people. Obviously, we didn’t time it this way: I worked on this piece for a year. But it’s my hope that as someone who is a Black American, who is the descendant of enslaved people, who is not himself Jewish — that my respectful, empathic, curious, journey reflects the long history of solidarity that has existed across Black and Jewish communities and that that I hope we never lose sight of.
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A ‘unique 20th Century Israelite’ who always made sure we got it right
It’s fitting that I first met Rabbi Capers Funnye in a television studio. And it should surprise no one that the topic that brought us together — by no means accidentally — was a discussion about Black Jews.
We never stopped talking about it. And making sure others got it right.
The spiritual leader for decades of Chicago’s Beth Shalom B’nai Zaken Ethiopian Hebrew Congregation and since 2016 the Chief Rabbi of the International Israelite Board of Rabbis, Funnye died Nov. 2 at 74.
Our friendship spanned decades, beginning before we co-founded the Alliance of Black Jews with Michelle Stein-Evers Frankl in 1995. With Stein-Evers, then in Los Angeles, and me in Boston, the organization brought together Jews of African descent from around the country to celebrate our dual affiliations as normative.
Although the organization did not last beyond its early years, it spawned numerous other groups that exist today. Most significantly, it mainstreamed the fact that Blackness and Judaism are not mutually exclusive.
That’s the message we had been imparting five years earlier, on the Black Entertainment Television show Our Voices in 1990. Having filed a story mentioning Black Jews while a reporter for BET’s news division, I was asked by the network to co-produce a special on the subject. In addition to me, they asked who else should appear.
“There’s a rabbi in Chicago,” I said unhesitatingly, though I had yet to meet him, “and the police chief in Charleston, South Carolina” — Reuben Greenberg, who passed away in 2014.
Each of us came to Judaism differently: me, the child of a non-Jewish African-American father and non-Black Jewish mother; Greenberg, via conversion first through Reform, then Conservative Judaism (and also “reversion” in that he was reaching back to the religion of his grandfather), and Funnye, who had been Methodist before joining the Ethiopian Hebrew denomination (of African Americans, not Ethiopians) and later underwent a Conservative conversion.
Although his smicha was granted by the Ethiopian Hebrew group (now more broadly termed Israelite) and not by the Conservative body, he was invited to join the Chicago Board of Rabbis as its first African American member in 1997.
His dual affiliations as both Conservative and Israelite — and indeed, that of his largely Black and increasingly Hispanic Chicago shul, which also had merged with an aging Ashkenazi congregation — allowed him to serve as a bridge between many strains of Judaic practices.
“He accomplished what he wanted,” said Rabbi Baruch A. Yehudah of Congregation B’nai Adath Kol Beth Yisrael in New York. “He wanted to be a bridge builder and he built many — into the Ethiopian community, the Nigerian community, South Africa, Ghana, Uganda. He was the first one of us to be on a mainstream board of rabbis.”
“I loved him,” Yehudah added. “He wasn’t just my boss.”
Bruce Haynes, author of The Soul of Judaism, called Funnye “the most unique 21st Century Israelite” because of his role as chief rabbi. “To my knowledge, that (position) was the first of its kind. It elevated him institutionally as the premiere figure among modern-day Hebrew Israelites.”
Yet that outreach went beyond the bima. “Having chosen to move his whole family toward Conservative Judaism was an important step in cementing a personal relationship between Israelite congregations and rabbinic Judaism,” Haynes said.
Rabbi Tamar Manasseh, a protégé of Funnye who in 2021 became the first woman ordained by the Israelite body, said Funnye was “doing the whole bridge thing before anybody knew that they wanted a bridge.
“There were Black Jews who didn’t like that. There were white Jews who didn’t like that, either. It was uncomfortable for everybody until it wasn’t uncomfortable for anybody.”
She praised him for enduring “all of the stuff he had to go through to get us to a point where I can complain about things now, which is remarkable.”
I too find it difficult to separate the personal from the bridge-building. In addition to our numerous Black Jewish campaigns and initiatives — we literally traveled the world together, from Chicago to Boston to San Francisco to Uganda — he served as the rabbi for my mother’s funeral and my daughter’s wedding.
In my ever-diverse family, both were examples of bridge-building in their own right. During the wedding, my now son-in-law, whose native language is Russian, recited the line “I concentrate you to me as my wife,” prompting Funnye to break from the prepared liturgy to correct him.
“No, no. Consecrate. We gotta get this right.”
“I consecrate you to me as my wife,” the groom said, appreciative of the gentle but authoritative guidance.
Because Capers made sure to get it right.
The post A ‘unique 20th Century Israelite’ who always made sure we got it right appeared first on The Forward.
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The Jewish midterms: Races to watch on Election Day
Tuesday’s midterm elections will determine which party controls Congress for the final two years of President Donald Trump’s second term, with Republicans fighting to hold their narrow majorities and Democrats hoping to regain power.
Recent polls suggest Democrats are favored to retake the House and have a strong chance of winning the Senate. Several closely watched gubernatorial races could also shape the field for the 2028 presidential election and increase the number of Jewish governors.
The outcome could have immediate consequences for U.S. foreign policy, particularly American support for Israel and the war with Iran. If Democrats win the House, they would have greater power to investigate Trump’s handling of the war, limit his power and challenge his foreign policy decisions. Democrats will also likely push for restrictions on military aid to Israel, depending on who forms the next Israeli government. Democrats remain divided over Israel and their leadership has so far resisted pressure to pursue major changes to longstanding U.S. policy.
A Democratic takeover of Congress would put House Democratic leader Hakeem Jeffries and Senate Democratic leader Chuck Schumer, both longtime supporters of Israel, in charge of their respective chambers and navigating any divides within their caucus.
The elections will also test whether Democrats can win back voters who shifted toward Trump and will reveal how much influence the party’s progressive wing may have, particularly on Israel and foreign policy going into the presidential primary season.
For Jewish voters, the stakes are especially high. Although they make up only about 2% of the population nationwide, Jewish voters could help decide close races in New York, Michigan, Georgia and Ohio. The results could also show whether frustration with Democrats over Israel is driving more Jewish voters toward Republicans or whether concerns about antisemitism on the right and disapproval of Trump are keeping them in the Democratic camp.
Here are the key races we’re watching and what’s at stake.
– Senate –
Michigan: Abdul El-Sayed (D) vs. Mike Rogers (R)
Issues: The race has become one of the largest tests of the Democratic divide on Israel and antisemitism. El-Sayed, a progressive and fierce critic of Israel, defeated Rep. Haley Stevens in the contested Democratic primary despite millions spent by AIPAC and other pro-Israel groups. Now, Stevens is backing Rogers. El-Sayed has refused to moderate his views and has doubled down on ending Israel aid and his association with Hasan Piker, a popular left-wing pundit who has been accused of antisemitism. El-Sayed said he disagreed with the content of an ad from a PAC supporting his campaign that blamed U.S. aid to Israel for rising grocery prices.
The Jewish vote: The state has an estimated 130,000 Jewish residents, who make up 1.4% of the electorate. The Republican Jewish Coalition spent $2 million to target 50,000 Jewish voters in Oakland County who opposed El-Sayed in the primary; those votes could matter in a close race.
Georgia: Incumbent Jon Ossoff (D) vs. Mike Collins (R)
Issues: Ossoff, the state’s first Jewish senator, has angered some Jewish voters for backing measures to block some aid to Israel. Collins criticized Ossoff for supporting El-Sayed. The Republican has been accused of ties to white nationalists and antisemitic figures, including his son-in-law, who promoted antisemitic conspiracies. Collins rejected their views and condemned antisemitism.
The Jewish vote: Georgia is home to an estimated 150,000 Jews, primarily in Atlanta. Though that represents 1.3% of the electorate, Jewish voters could play an important role in a state where recent elections were decided by narrow margins. The outcome could test whether dissatisfied Jewish Democrats will still support Ossoff over a Trump-aligned Republican and whether his Jewish identity still provides a political advantage.
Florida: Incumbent Ashley Moody (R) vs. Angie Nixon (D)
Issues: Moody, who was appointed to the Senate in 2025 after Marco Rubio became Secretary of State, is a staunch supporter of Israel and led on combating BDS in her previous role as attorney general. Nixon is the first member of the Democratic Socialists of America on a major party ticket. She did not make Israel the centerpiece of her Senate campaign, which focused heavily on affordability, health care and other economic issues. But on Israel and Gaza, her record puts her broadly in line with the DSA’s platform.
The Jewish vote: Florida is home to 750,000 Jews, who make up an estimated 3-5% of the state’s electorate. Moody leads Nixon by an average of 6 percentage points.
– House –
New York 17: Rep. Mike Lawler (R) vs. Cait Conley (D)
Issues: Support for Israel and antisemitism were central in outreach to the Jewish community, though the two candidates have more in common on those issues than their campaigns suggest. Lawler highlighted his ties to Jewish voters and questioned whether Conley would stand up to anti-Israel voices in the Democratic Party, while Conley accuses him of associating with Republicans who have faced accusations of antisemitic rhetoric and ties to white nationalists.
The Jewish vote: The district has 150,000 Jewish residents who make up 19% of the population. At least 20,000 members of the growing Hasidic communities in Rockland County voted for Lawler in 2024. His first race was won by a narrow margin of about 2,000 votes. The margin of victory could determine whether a pro-Israel moderate Democrat could peel away Jewish voters from Lawler’s camp.
New York 10 and 12: Brad Lander and Micah Lasher
Lander and Lasher are heavily favored to win their races in the deep blue districts. They represent a generational transition in the debate over Israel and Jewish influence in Congress, as Jerry Nadler, co-chair of the Congressional Jewish Congress who served as the leading voice in Congress for liberal Jews, is set to retire. Lander, an ally of New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani and of the pro-Palestinian movement, supports halting all aid to Israel and has called the Gaza war a genocide, while Lasher supports continued aid and calls himself a Zionist.
The Jewish vote: The 12th District has the nation’s largest Jewish population – 24%, while the 10th ranks fourth, at 21%.
New York 13 and 7: Daraliza Avila Chevalier and Claire Valdez
The election of Avila Chevalier, a former Columbia University Gaza War encampment activist, in the 13th District — where Jews make up 6% — and Valdez in the 7th District in Brooklyn — where Jews make up 13% – will put two fierce Israel critics and DSA members at the center of debate over Israel in Congress.
Florida 20: Rep. Debbie Wasserman Schultz (D) vs. Brent Andersen (R)
Wasserman Schultz, one of the most prominent Jewish members in Congress, is favored to win reelection after easily winning the Democratic primary in a redrawn majority-Black district, surviving GOP redistricting. Jews make up just 5% of her new district.
Florida 25: Rep. Jared Moskowitz (D) vs. Scott Singer (R)
Issues: Moskowitz, who built a reputation as an outspoken supporter of Israel and one of the more bipartisan members of the House, easily defeated Oliver Larkin, a democratic socialist and fierce critic of Israel, in the August primary as he clashed with progressives over Israel. Singer, the Jewish former mayor of Boca Raton, highlighted his support for Israel and his roots in the district and, if elected, could increase the Jewish Republican caucus to five members.
The Jewish vote: The district is home to 67,000 Jews, at 8%. Recent polls show a close race, in which Jewish voters will play an important role in deciding whether they are represented by a Jewish Democrat or a Jewish Republican.
California 11: Scott Wiener vs. Connie Chan
Issues: This race to succeed Nancy Pelosi, the former House Speaker, is a test of how far left on Israel is good enough for San Francisco. Both Weiner, who is Jewish and advanced to first place in the Democratic primary, and Chan say that Israel committed genocide in Gaza and want to end U.S. military aid to Israel. Chan, however, is the favored candidate among pro-Palestinian activists, who say Weiner’s characterization of the conflict as a genocide was too little, too late.
Jewish vote: The district is home to 57,000 Jews, 7.5% of the population. Wiener leads Chan by an average of 6 percentage points.
Colorado 1: Melat Kiros (D) vs. Shimon Blau (I)
Issues: Israel has been a defining issue in the race. Kiros, a democratic socialist, has repeatedly declined to call the 2025 firebombing of a walk for Gaza hostages antisemitic. The attacker was heard yelling “Free Palestine” as he threw molotov cocktails, injuring 13 people, including an 82-year-old woman who later died from her injuries. Kiros has since said she understands “the immense pain and fear the Boulder attack caused.” Kiros has also argued in favor of a one-state solution, called for ending both offensive and defensive weapons sales to Israel, and called Hamas’s Oct. 7, 2023 attack the “inevitable consequence of apartheid.” Blau, an Orthodox Jew, said he was inspired to get into the race by what he described as Kiros’ antisemitic rhetoric. He told Axios he’ll caucus with Democrats if elected.
The Jewish vote: Jewish voters make up about 2% of the state’s electorate. Kiros is favored to win and become the first Gen Z woman elected to Congress.
Ohio 7: Rep. Max Miller (R) vs. Brian Poindexter (D)
Issues: Miller, a Jewish Republican and former Trump White House aide, has been an outspoken supporter of Israel and a critic of antisemitism on the left. But his reelection campaign has been overshadowed by allegations of domestic violence and abuse made by his ex-wife, Emily Moreno, the daughter of Republican Sen. Bernie Moreno. Last year, a local doctor was arrested after threatening to kill Miller. Poindexter, a union ironworker endorsed by J Street and the Jewish Democratic Council of America, largely avoided discussing Israel in the campaign.
The Jewish vote: The Cleveland area is home to one of Ohio’s largest Jewish communities, though the Jewish share of the 7th District is estimated at 2%.
Virginia 2: Rep. Jen Kiggans (R) vs. former Rep. Elaine Luria (D)
Issues: Luria, a Jewish Navy veteran, is challenging the Republican incumbent in a closely watched rematch after losing the seat in 2022. In her farewell speech on the House floor, Luria accused some of her colleagues of engaging in antisemitic tropes. Democratic Majority for Israel invested $1 million in a digital ad campaign supporting her political return. Both candidates have military backgrounds, making national security and foreign policy central to the contest.
The Jewish vote: The district’s 8,400 Jewish residents make up 1% of the population.
– Governors –
Ohio: Amy Acton (D) vs. Vivek Ramaswamy (R)
Issues: Ramaswamy, an American First candidate, campaigned twice at a church whose pastor called modern Judaism “fake.” Acton, who is Jewish, faced antisemitic attacks while serving as Ohio’s health director during the COVID-19 pandemic. Ramaswamy boasted during the campaign that he was the first Republican, during the 2024 presidential primary, to propose sunsetting the $38 billion aid for Israel. If Acton wins, she would be Ohio’s first Jewish governor, while Ramaswamy would be the state’s first Hindu governor.
The Jewish vote: Ohio is home to 180,000 Jews, 1.5% of the state’s population. Acton has a four-point lead over Ramaswamy.
New York: Kathy Hochul (D) vs. Bruce Blakeman (R)
Issues: Blakeman, the Jewish Nassau County executive, has made support for Israel and opposition to antisemitism on the left central themes of his campaign against Hochul. But Blakeman has struggled to match the support former Republican gubernatorial candidate Lee Zeldin received from Jewish voters and Hasidic voting blocs four years ago. Hochul has maintained strong ties with Jewish leaders even while working closely with New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani. She remained a strong supporter of Israel despite growing criticism of the country within her party. A recent Netanyahu critic, Hochul was the first foreign elected official to visit Israel shortly after Oct. 7 and criticized the pro-Palestinian protests on campus. Her most recent state budget included a measure establishing a buffer zone around houses of worship to prevent disruptive protests from blocking access.
The Jewish vote: The state’s 1.8 million Jews have historically played an outsized role in elections, exceeding their 9% share of the population. Organized Hasidic voting blocs are sought after by both parties. This year, most groups endorsed Hochul, in part because of her decisions to pause the implementation of state regulations on secular education in yeshivas and to join the federal tax-credit program created under Trump that would help families pay for private school tuition.
– Other races –
LA Mayor
The competitive race for mayor of Los Angeles features the incumbent, Karen Bass, against Nithya Raman, a democratic socialist, who has threaded the needle on Israel, putting her at odds with the national Democratic Socialists of America, which requires candidates to take an anti-Zionist stance. Bass has rejected the use of the term “genocide” and opposes the movement to boycott Israel. She has also faced criticism from parts of the Jewish community for what some considered an inadequate response to the Pacific Palisades wildfires and for failing to establish protest-free buffer zones outside synagogues.
Colorado Governor
Phil Weiser, the state’s Jewish attorney general, is hoping to succeed Jared Polis, the Jewish governor who is term-limited. Victor Marx, the Republican nominee, has faced antisemitism allegations for depicting Weiser with red horns in an attack ad.
2028 watch
Pennsylvania Gov. Josh Shapiro and Illinois Gov. J.B. Pritzker are both favored to win reelection. Both Jewish politicians have been floated as possible 2028 presidential candidates so how well they perform, and how strong their coattails are, may influence their future prospects.
Texas railroad commissioner
Jewish state Rep. Jon Rosenthal accused his Republican opponent, Bo French, of sending an antisemitic fundraising email in July. French has focused his campaign on culture war issues, despite the office’s limited role: regulating the state’s gas and oil industries.
Michigan Board of Regents
Lena Epstein, who is Jewish, is seeking a seat on one of the two open seats for the Michigan board of regents in an election seen as an Israel litmus test for Democrats. The Democratic nominee, Amir Makled, has faced scrutiny over past social media posts viewed as pro-Hezbollah and antisemitic.
The post The Jewish midterms: Races to watch on Election Day appeared first on The Forward.
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In Michigan, a Black conservative group pushes Jewish and pro-Israel messaging
(JTA) — YPSILANTI, Michigan – A Black conservative group is distributing signs and paying for billboards in Michigan encouraging Black voters to support Jews and Israel, in the days before a contentious U.S. Senate race in which the Democratic candidate has struggled to shore up both voting groups.
The Center for Urban Renewal and Education (CURE), a Washington, D.C.-based nonprofit, has paid for a series of yard signs reading “Blacks and Jews Standing Together” throughout cities with high Black populations, including Detroit, Flint and Ypsilanti.
The nonprofit’s director, Star Parker, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency in an email their goal is “to remind black Christian voters of unique and special reasons to stand with Israel.”
Parker said CURE is also paying for billboards in the area reading “Self Defense is Not Genocide” and “Many Black Evangelicals Agree that Israel Has a Right to Exist.”
The signs and billboards do not name any candidates. But Michigan’s Democratic Senate nominee, Abdul El-Sayed, has alienated many Jewish voters with his rhetoric on Israel and comments on Jewish safety.
He has also had difficulty shoring up Black support, another traditional Democratic constituency, with many Black Detroiters voting for his primary rival, U.S. Rep. Haley Stevens. That phenomenon has shifted somewhat in the race’s final days, with one poll commissioned by the Detroit News suggesting that 87% of likely Black voters would support El-Sayed.
Still, there can be distrust between Black and Arab communities as with Jewish and Arab populations. Sam Robinson, a Detroit-based reporter for a historic Black newspaper who has interviewed scores of Black voters in viral interviews, recently told the Columbia Journalism Review, “There’s a scarcity mindset that there are only so many resources and Arabs are somehow taking Black people’s share.”
Republican Mike Rogers, meanwhile, has courted Black voters as well as Jewish ones, with pro-Rogers ads highlighting tensions between local Black and Arab communities. A new super PAC linked to Rogers has spent heavily on ads stating that El-Sayed “has been disrespectful and dishonest with Black voters.”
CURE’s signs targeting Black voters appeared in the final week of the campaign. They followed an Oct. 22 interfaith roundtable in Detroit hosted by the organization, in which a local rabbi appeared alongside Black pastors to discuss the history of Black-Jewish organizing — a longtime alliance that has been shaken in recent years for a number of reasons.
Rabbi Aaron Bergman of Adat Shalom, a Conservative synagogue in the Detroit suburb of Farmington Hills, participated in the CURE roundtable. Over email, he told JTA that politics was not meant to be the focus of the event.
“It was mostly about teaching about antisemitism, which I guess at this point in history is political,” Bergman wrote.
El-Sayed has focused much of his campaign’s homestretch on shoring up the Black vote, visiting Black churches and holding events with former President Barack Obama and senior U.S. Rep. Jim Clyburn of South Carolina, a Black congressional leader. Driving up turnout in Black communities, usually one of the Democrats’ strongest constituencies, is viewed as key to his chances of taking the seat.
Stevens’ last-minute decision to endorse Rogers instead is a wildcard. Star told JTA she believed many “black Christian voters” would follow her lead.
“Their support for Israel needed a boost,” she said. “I believe this endorsement has taken Mike Rogers over the finish line with black voters.”
Yet there are signs that Palestinian rights may be a more animating issue among Michigan’s Black voters this year than in the past. Pro-Palestinian state Rep. Donavan McKinney, a democratic socialist, won his primary challenge against a pro-Israel incumbent in a majority-Black, Detroit-area congressional district in August. And during one Stevens primary campaign stop in Detroit, a Black community organizer directly confronted her over her support for Israel.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post In Michigan, a Black conservative group pushes Jewish and pro-Israel messaging appeared first on The Forward.
