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A Jewish museum exhibit features the Palestinian flag. Some visitors wonder if it belongs.
(J. The Jewish News of Northern California via JTA) — Tucked in the far corner of a large, brightly-lit exhibition hall on the ground floor of the Contemporary Jewish Museum in San Francisco, there is a delicate-looking piece of art with a strong political message.
At first glance, it appears to be three circular vases with flowers in them. The ceramic vases sit on shelves attached to the wall, and colorful collages hang above them. On closer inspection, visitors will notice that the flowers are made out of paper and that affixed to each vase is an image of the Palestinian flag printed on foam board.
A nearby label written by the curators of the exhibit, titled “Tikkun: For the Cosmos, the Community, and Ourselves,” explains that the piece was inspired by a conversation the artist, Tosha Stimage of Berkeley, had with a Palestinian man. He told Stimage about the plants that are native to Palestine — “a place which he can no longer access due to the ongoing conflict in the region,” the curators write.
The label also includes a note about the flag: “Some may find its presence at The CJM troubling or confusing, while others may find it appropriate and forthright. Stimage recognizes the potential for these divergent responses and hopes to use them as a means of generating dialogue.”
On a Sunday afternoon in October, Maury Ostroff read the label and walked away without inspecting the artwork.
Visitors to the “Tikkun” exhibit are encouraged to share their responses to the artwork via comment cards. (Andrew Esensten)
Asked how the presence of the flag made him feel, Ostroff, who is Jewish and lives in Muir Beach, in Marin County, replied, “Unhappy.”
Why?
“It’s not offensive to me in the same way that a swastika is. My skin is a little bit thicker than that. But I wish it weren’t here.”
He added, “What’s so Jewish about this? What’s so ‘tikkun olam’ about all of this?”
For the “Tikkun” exhibit, which opened Feb. 17 and runs through Jan. 8, the CJM invited both Jewish and non-Jewish Bay Area artists to contribute new works on the theme of repair, however they chose to interpret it. “No one is listening to us,” the piece by Stimage, who is not Jewish, is the first work of art featuring the Palestinian flag to be shown at CJM in recent memory; the museum could not say when or if the flag has been displayed on its walls before.
The piece prompted several internal conversations among CJM staff when it was first submitted and, since it has been on display, has generated a variety of responses from museumgoers who have left comments in a box at the entrance to the exhibit. Intentionally or not, Stimage has raised numerous questions with the artwork, including: Does a work of art that is sympathetic to the Palestinian struggle for statehood belong in a Jewish museum? And what is the role of a contemporary Jewish museum, anyway?
“To truly be a contemporary art museum, meaning embedded in the contemporary issues of our day, our job is to provide a platform for dialogue and to share a diversity of perspectives on our walls,” said Chad Coerver, CJM’s executive director since September 2021. “If any institution [like ours] took the path of withholding artwork that troubled our staff, our board or our community, it would be very difficult to mount exhibitions.”
CJM is a member of the Council of American Jewish Museums, a network of 76 museums across the country. CAJM does not have guidelines about the kind of art its member museums can and cannot display, according to Executive Director Melissa Yaverbaum.
J. reached out to several CAJM member museums in New York, Los Angeles and other places by email to ask if they had ever shown artwork with Palestinian iconography or works by Palestinian artists. The museums declined to answer or did not respond.
In recent years, two Jewish museums have been embroiled in controversy over issues relating to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. The Spertus Institute for Jewish Learning and Leadership in Chicago staged an exhibit in 2008 on Israeli and Palestinian concepts of homeland that included maps and portraits of Palestinians. Following outcry from members of the local Jewish community who felt the exhibit presented Israel in a negative light, the museum decided to close the exhibit after only a few weeks. And in 2019, the director of the Jewish Museum Berlin resigned after the museum tweeted a link to a pro-BDS article in a German newspaper. (The museum previously came under fire for welcoming anti-Zionist scholar Judith Butler and representatives of Iran.)
In a joint interview with J., two CJM staffers who worked on “Tikkun” — co-curator Qianjin Montoya, who is not Jewish, and a Jewish senior curator who served in an advisory role, Heidi Rabben — shared the story of how Stimage’s piece came to be in the exhibit. (Montoya’s co-curator for the exhibit, Arianne Gelardin, no longer works at the museum.)
Since 2009, CJM has invited local artists from different backgrounds to create new work as part of the museum’s annual Dorothy Saxe Invitational. The idea for “Tikkun” was hatched before the pandemic put the planning process on hold. Once the CJM and Saxe — a local philanthropist and art collector — agreed on the theme, the co-curators invited artists “already engaged in healing through their relationship to community or in their practice of daily life,” Gelardin told J. last February.
The 30 artists who accepted the museum’s invitation were given only four months to conceive of and submit new works. That was likely the shortest timeline in the history of the invitational, which has been held 11 previous times, according to the museum. Each artist received a packet of materials compiled by CJM staff, with input from the Shalom Hartman Institute, a non-degree granting Jewish education center, to guide their thinking on “tikkun.”
Stimage was invited to participate because she is “very active” in the Bay Area and because “her work reflects ideas of community and connection,” Montoya said.
The curators said Stimage’s inclusion of the Palestinian flag in her submitted piece came as a surprise and prompted challenging conversations. However, they noted that they found the content of some of the other artists’ work surprising, too, and that it’s not unusual for contemporary artists to push the envelope in their work.
“I wouldn’t say we expected to receive a piece about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, but we weren’t steering anyone away from that, either,” Rabben told J., adding that the submission guidelines did not place any topic off limits. “That’s a commitment from the museum to authentically represent the creative spirit of the artists that we’re working with,” she said.
Still, the curators said they engaged in a dialogue with Stimage in order to better understand each aspect of her piece and her overall intentions. Through those conversations, the curators learned that Stimage wanted to explore a moment of “rupture,” and that through her piece she hoped to communicate “that before healing or repair might happen, you have to first acknowledge that rupture,” Rabben said.
The Contemporary Jewish Museum in San Francisco is showing “Tikkun,” an exhibit of works by Jewish and non-Jewish artists on the theme of repair. (Andrew Esensten)
Coerver, who was involved in some of the conversations, stressed that “careful consideration” was given to including the piece in the exhibit. “We felt an artwork addressing the plight of the Palestinians was appropriate in an exhibition on healing and repair,” he said. (No work submitted as part of the Dorothy Saxe Invitational has ever been outright rejected, the museum said.)
Stimage did not respond to interview requests from J. According to a CV on her website, she was born in Jackson, Mississippi, and earned an MFA from California College of the Arts in 2016. She is a past fellow at the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts in San Francisco and was an artist-in-residence at Facebook in 2018. She also owns a floral gift shop in Oakland called Saint Flora.
Her work often touches on Black identity; she created a piece honoring Sandra Bland, an African-American woman whose 2015 arrest and death in a Texas jail cell sparked protests, and contributed to a 2019 San Francisco Art Institute exhibit on the Black Panther Party.
“I have a responsibility to create things that will, to the best of my present knowledge, do more good than harm, heal, inspire and uplift other humans,” she told the San Francisco Bay View National Black Newspaper in 2015.
Stimage’s precise views on Israel are unknown. CJM referred J. to her artist statement for “No one is listening to us,” which reads: “Olive, sage, and sumac are flowering plants native to the Mediterranean (including regions of Gaza and the West Bank) that have a direct relationship to contested ancestral land and affect the livelihood of so many Palestinian farmers and families caught in the conflict. They are positioned in the space of The Contemporary Jewish Museum as a metaphor for the ongoing conflict over land rights and the desperate need for restoration and healing of an age-old wound.”
The curators told J. that during their conversations with Stimage about her piece, they asked her why including images of the Palestinian flag was important to her but did not request that she remove them.
“We determined that none of [the piece’s] components in and of themselves signified something problematic or concerning,” Rabben said. “Of course, we had the awareness that the symbol [of the flag] will be read in a variety of ways by a variety of people.”
(Rabben pointed out that the exhibit includes other works with national symbols rendered in provocative ways, such as a black-and-white photograph of an American flag that was torn apart and partially reassembled by Mexican-American artist Jose Arias.)
The Palestinian flag — which contains the Pan-Arab colors of black, white, green and red — was adopted by the Palestine Liberation Organization in 1964. Since then, it has been the primary symbol of Palestinian nationalism.
For decades, the PLO was considered an enemy organization by Israel, and anything associated with it “had no place in Israeli public life,” said Eran Kaplan, an Israeli-born professor of Israel studies at San Francisco State University. Israel never went so far as to ban the flag. However, during the First Intifada, which lasted from 1987 to 1993, Israeli soldiers sometimes followed orders to confiscate the flag from protesters in the West Bank and Gaza.
With the signing of the Oslo Accord in 1993, Israel and the PLO recognized each other as negotiating partners. Yet the Palestinian flag remains a contentious symbol in Israel today. Kaplan noted that it recently served as a flashpoint during the funeral procession of Shireen Abu Akleh, the Palestinian American broadcaster who was killed in the West Bank in May. (The IDF conducted a review and admitted that the Israeli soldier who shot her had most likely misidentified her as an armed militant.) After warning Abu Akleh’s family not to display the flag, Israeli police attacked mourners in East Jerusalem, ripping flags out of their hands and off of the vehicle carrying her casket.
Today, the flag holds different meanings for Israelis and American Jews from different generations and political persuasions.
“There are large segments in Israeli society who view any form of Palestinian national identity as a threat to the existence of Israel,” Kaplan said. “There are others who view the PLO as legitimate partners in any form of negotiations [over the creation of a Palestinian state], but there’s an absolute split over those questions.”
Given the sensitive nature of Stimage’s work and others in the exhibit, the curators decided to solicit feedback from visitors via comment cards available at the entrance to the hall. Rabben said the museum has received a number of comments specifically about “No one is listening to us,” most of which were positive. “The majority of those comments were ‘Thank you for offering space for this topic at the museum,’” she said.
Last month, a security guard sitting in the “Tikkun” exhibition hall told a reporter that he had not witnessed any expressions of outrage or protest through the first nine months of the exhibit. “When we opened we were afraid of negative reactions, but they’re not stressed about it,” he said of visitors. “We have shown worse things here.” The guard, who has worked at the museum since it opened in 2008, mentioned a 2010 exhibit, “Our Struggle: Responding to Mein Kampf,” which included a copy of Hitler’s autobiography. “Some people were cussing us out” for displaying the book, he recalled.
Meanwhile, on the same floor as “Tikkun,” there is another, smaller exhibit containing potentially offensive art. A sign outside of the room warns visitors that inside is a Hitler marionette created by the parents of puppeteer Frank Oz. “Our intention in displaying this object is to keep the memory of the Holocaust alive through the objects and firsthand stories of those who experienced its persecution, and to encourage conversation and education about the ongoing horrors of antisemitism and authoritarianism today,” the sign says.
Coerver, CJM’s executive director, said he was proud that the museum’s three current exhibits — “Tikkun,” “Oz is for Oznowicz: A Puppet Family’s History” and “Gillian Laub: Family Matters,” which includes photographs that Laub took of her Trump-supporting relatives — are raising “challenging questions” and providing opportunities for both visitors and museum staff to “expand our horizons.”
“We’ve been wading into some issues that I think are a little thicker than maybe we’ve been confronting in the past,” he said, “and I hope that continues.”
A version of this piece originally ran in J. The Jewish News of Northern California, and is reprinted with permission.
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British Jews could be offered asylum in the US, Trump’s UK-born Jewish lawyer says
(JTA) — The Trump administration might be considering granting asylum to British Jews, according to Trump’s personal lawyer, who said “the UK is no longer a safe place for Jews.”
Robert Garson, a Jewish attorney from Manchester, England, with rising influence in the Trump administration, said he proposed the move to the State Department in an interview with The Telegraph.
Garson said his proposal was well received despite the Trump administration’s general anti-immigration stance.
“I thought: Jews are being persecuted in the United Kingdom,” Garson said. “They fit a wonderful demographic for the United States. They are, on the whole, educated. They speak English natively. They’ve got businesses. They’re exactly the sort of immigrant the United States should want to attract. So, why not?”
Garson said his views on the future of Jews in Britain hardened after the terror attack on a synagogue in his hometown last year. Two people were killed at the Heaton Park Hebrew Congregation on Yom Kippur after a man rammed his car into a crowd of people and stabbed others.
In October, the White House announced that it would restrict the number of refugees admitted to the United States to 7,500 in 2026, mostly reserving those spots for white South Africans. The number represents a steep drop from former President Joe Biden’s ceiling of 125,000 in 2024.
The administration’s privileging of white South Africans has been widely criticized in South Africa, including by Jews. The country’s chief rabbi Warren Goldstein, otherwise a vocal Trump supporter, called the move a “mistake.”
Garson was hired by Trump in 2022 to sue investigative journalist Bob Woodward for $50 million over Woodward’s publication of Trump interviews in an audiobook. (The lawsuit was dismissed in July.) Donald Trump Jr. has also hired Garson as a lawyer for his publishing house, Winning Team Publishing, which has published the president, Charlie Kirk and other prominent conservatives.
Garson’s rise continued with an appointment to the United States Holocaust Memorial Council in May. He was among several Trump allies that the president named to replace members appointed by Biden, including Doug Emhoff, the Jewish husband of former Vice President Kamala Harris.
White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt said at the time, “President Trump looks forward to appointing new individuals who will not only continue to honor the memory of those who perished in the Holocaust, but who are also steadfast supporters of the State of Israel.”
Garson moved to New York in 2008 and now lives in Florida, where he is the head of armed security at his synagogue. After the Hamas attack on Israel on Oct. 7, 2023, Garson became a National Rifle Association-licensed instructor and has offered to train any Jews who are interested.
He believes that “if there had been 6 million guns in 6 million Jewish hands, there would have been 6 million fewer deaths” in the Holocaust, he told The Telegraph.
Garson laid much of the blame for dangers to British Jews at the foot of Prime Minister Keir Starmer, saying that he “allowed rampant antisemitism to become commonplace in society and has allowed it to come from those who really don’t have Britain’s best interests at heart.”
Garson has expressed particular concern about the influence of Muslim immigrants in England, charging that non-Jewish Brits would also soon face “sharia-compliant areas.” He said, “They are coming for the Jews and then they are coming for your pubs.”
Some British Jewish groups have rejected the idea that British Jews would seek to leave for the United States. The Community Security Trust, an antisemitism watchdog, told Haaretz that “Jews were murdered by hateful terrorists in the United States as well as in the United Kingdom” last year, so there was no refuge to be found there.
David Aaronovitch, a British journalist and broadcaster, also rebuked Garson’s proposal in a Jewish News op-ed addressed to Trump.
“British Jews wouldn’t be safer in the US, simply because no one is,” said Aaronovitch. “The homicide rate in your country is six times what it is here; in fact, in Mr Garson’s new domicile, Miami-Dade County, it’s over 20 times the rate here in London.”
He also noted the debate in Trump’s own party over its inclusion of avowed antisemites such as Nick Fuentes.
“It hasn’t escaped the notice of many British Jews that some of the most vocal and influential new media supporters of your administration have either given themselves over to overt, old-style antisemitism or have shown themselves happy to tolerate others who have,” said Aaronovitch.
Ofir Sofer, Israel’s minister of aliyah and integration, also responded dismissively to the idea that British Jews should leave for the United States. “The home of British Jewry, and of Jews around the world, is the State of Israel,” he said.
The post British Jews could be offered asylum in the US, Trump’s UK-born Jewish lawyer says appeared first on The Forward.
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How ‘a bundle of letters’ became a cornerstone of life advice for American Jews
January 20, 2026 marks the 120th anniversary of A Bintel Brief, the Forward’s advice column, launched in 1906 by the paper’s founder and publisher, Ab Cahan. Tackling the personal challenges of Eastern European Jewish immigrants, Cahan and the Bintel Brief columnists who followed him would dispatch their advice with humor, compassion, and honesty.
By 1906, Der Forverts, as the Forward is known in Yiddish, had grown over its initial three decades to become the leading Yiddish-language newspaper in the United States. But A Bintel Brief — Yiddish for “a bundle of letters” — was something the paper hadn’t tried before. Well, not exactly.
In his introduction to the very first Bintel Brief, which is preserved online at the National Library of Israel, Cahan explained that the new column had been inspired by a section of the paper devoted to letters to the editor that launched three years earlier.
A Bintel Brief, however, would be an advice column, focusing on letters “that expressed issues of … human interest,” Cahan explained. He continued, “Readers will find in the Bintel Brief letters an interesting turning of pages from the Book of Life … Hundreds of diverse emotions, interests and lost opportunities will be expressed here. Hundreds of various vibrations of the human heart will be heard here.”
History would prove him right. Over the next 120 years, A Bintel Brief would explore the “various vibrations of the human heart” with homespun Jewish advice, tens of thousands of times over, and along with its contemporary advice columnists like Dorothy Dix inspire countless advice columns across U.S. newspapers, including “Dear Abby” and Ann Landers (née Esther Friedman).
In his autobiography Pages from My Life, which Cahan published 100 years ago in 1926, he recalled, “I had always wished that the Forverts would receive stories from ‘daily life’ — dramas, comedies or truly curious events that weren’t written at a desk but rather in the tenements and factories and cafés — everywhere that life was the author of the drama … How to do this? Not an easy task — much harder than writing an interesting drama or comedy.”
“One day in January 1906,” he continued, “[my secretary, Leon] Gottlieb told me about three letters that had arrived which didn’t seem suited for any particular department … All three letters were of a personal nature rather than a communal one, and each told an individual story. I considered the three letters and my response was: Let’s print them together and call it A Bintel Brief.”
There’s also the apocryphal version of the story, illustrated by cartoonist Liana Finck while working on a series of cartoons inspired by A Bintel Brief that eventually became a book in 2014. “Rumor has it, the letter on the top of the pile Abraham Cahan’s secretary brought him that strange day in 1906 was two feet long and sewn together with scraps of industrial thread. The spelling was atrocious, but the tears that spewed out of the letter were real — Cahan tasted them to make sure.”
While perhaps nothing more than a mayse, the story rightly captures the willingness of Forverts readers to share their individual problems with A Bintel Brief and seek advice.
And some of them still resonate today.
For example, in the first edition of the column, a bride-to-be reached out because of a debate that erupted with her fiancé after she suggested that mothers are more faithful to their children than fathers because they are the ones saddled with the responsibility of childcare, to which the fiancé angrily replied that women make too big of a deal of their role as caregivers, and that fathers are more dependable. Cahan replied that “smart, serious minded parents raise children that are both truly loyal and have both feet on the ground” like the mother and father. To this, he added, “It’s best for your future children that you read all you can, attend as many lectures as possible, and develop together and grow intellectually. That will create a pair of parents who best know how to raise their children and will be of service in their devotion and love.”
It also did not take long for questions regarding interfaith relationships to emerge in the column. One letter that same year featured a newlywed Jewish man describing the fraying relationship with his Christian wife over the first year of marriage. “Mixed marriage between a Gentile and a Jew is a complicated affair,” Bintel acknowledged, before putting a spin on the then-common story of Jewish parents sitting shiva for their son marrying a Gentile woman: “Not enough has been said about the Gentile family. For while the parents of the Gentile girl may accept the Jewish son-in-law and tolerate the marriage, the girl loses many of her friends, former classmates and relatives.”
Writing for the Forward in 2014 about Finck’s book, Yevegeniya Traps noted that letters like these offered “a succinctly potent representation of the lives of Eastern-European immigrants trying to make their way in early-20th-century New York.” She added, “No artist or journalist could render the doubt, uncertainty and backbreaking work of life in the New World as clearly and honestly as the words of sufferers seeking wisdom” from A Bintel Brief.
Or as Cahan concluded in his autobiography, “Everyone wrote about that which was closest to their hearts. The result was that the Bintel Brief would be assembled out of those letters that revealed the most interesting nooks of people’s souls.”
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How Trump’s first year back in office destabilized our country — and our Jewish community
One year into President Donald Trump’s second term, the American Jewish community is reeling — just like the rest of the country.
For generations now, presidents have at least paid lip service to steadying the ship of state. Trump has taken an axe to the mast.
And as he has destabilized the United States since being sworn into office on Jan. 20, 2025, he has destabilized American Jews.
To mark the end of Trump’s first year back in office, I looked at how a series of his policies and pronouncements have exaggerated already-deep divides in the Jewish community — and bewildered his supporters and detractors alike.
Rooting out antisemitism, or nurturing it?
Trump’s approach to addressing antisemitism has shuttled between a slap and embrace, deeply unbalancing American Jews.
He correctly called out intimidation tactics on college campuses, especially during the anti-Gaza War protests, that violated the civil rights of Jewish students — preventing them from accessing parts of campus or speaking out freely as other students.
But the measures he took against those universities, which included cutting off funding for unrelated research, deporting foreign students for exercising their First Amendment rights, and undermining laudable efforts at diversity, alienated Jews with legitimate concerns about campus antisemitism.
A May 2025 poll from GBAO Strategies reflected the disconnect.
Some 65% of younger Jews expressed concern over antisemitism on college campuses, and 71% said deporting campus protesters made that antisemitism worse.
Any relief Jews felt that Trump was addressing a long-festering problem quickly morphed into the concern that he was using it to carry out an ideological score-settling that had nothing to do with Jews, and that could ultimately backfire on them.
Meanwhile, there’s Tucker Carlson. The ideological Svengali of the GOP, Carlson has used his popular podcast to give a platform to neo-Nazis, push ever more intricate antisemitic conspiracy theories, and suggest that Jews were behind the assassination of Charlie Kirk.
And more recently, he’s provided a serious hint that Trump’s focus on antisemitism isn’t particularly earnest.
“I think we don’t need them,” Trump recently told the New York Times about antisemitic elements in the GOP. “I think we don’t like them.” He thinks, because, well, sometimes he apparently does need them: Carlson lunched twice at the White House this week.
For Trump, antisemitism appears not to be an absolute evil, but yet another issue to use to his political advantage. And as he’s gambled with our community, he’s brought more strife to it. Now, we battle one another over the question of whether Trump has been just what we needed — or the very worst thing that could have happened to us.
Triumph in Gaza, despair in Iran
In October, Trump forged a ceasefire and hostage deal in Gaza that pleased liberal Jews even as it upset many on the Jewish right with its tacit endorsement of an eventual two-state solution. He cashed in the goodwill he had banked with Israel, and, through incessant horsetrading with the Gulf States, leveraged a diplomatic breakthrough.
“He did something so many of us yearned for in the last two years, and he made it happen, and Biden didn’t make it happen,” Abraham Foxman, former CEO of the Anti-Defamation League, told JTA at the time.
Yet Trump started the year making promises to assert U.S. control in Gaza and turn it into a land of luxe resorts, to the horror of many liberal Jews. What can we make of the fact that he then turned around and accomplished a diplomatic feat that so many of us yearned for?
Even this week I find myself rooting for Trump — not something I normally do — to push through his idea of an international Board of Peace to oversee Gaza reconstruction, over the opposition of Israel’s Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.
Yet at the same time Trump has worked for peace between Israelis and Palestinians, his Iran strategy now verges on incoherent, if not cruel. He joined with Israel in attacking and degrading Iranian missile and nuclear ability, and bragged that doing so stripped decades of progress from Tehran’s nuclear program, though evidence suggests the operation brought much more moderate success.
He then threatened to attack again, to stop Iran’s bloody crackdown on protesters who have swarmed the streets this month. That issue is particularly close to the hearts of many American Jews, both because of the Iranian regime’s vehement antagonism toward Israel, and because so many Jews here have roots in Iran and have personal or familial experiences of the regime’s brutality. Then he backed down, convinced, reports say, of Iran’s promise not to execute its political opponents.
“It is unconscionable to say ‘Help is on the way’ and then do nothing,” Elliott Abrams, a senior fellow at the Council on Foreign Relations and a former Iran envoy in the first Trump administration, told Jewish Insider. “I hope the president will change his mind.”
Yes, intervention is a tricky business. But to those American Jews who would see Trump take decisive action to change the status quo in the Middle East, his choice to step aside from this fight seems baffling. And for all of us, it raises questions: Does he actually have a long-term vision for the region, and if so, is he able to commit to a path to deliver it?
The Minneapolis worry
The May GBAO survey found that 74% of American Jews disapproved of the job Trump was doing in office. That was five months into office, before the Gaza deal, but also before — the rest.
Signals differ about where, exactly, Trump stands in American Jewish public opinion. But there are some leading indicators, and they all center around Minneapolis.
The killing this month of Renée Nicole Good by an Immigration and Customs Enforcement agent there; Trump’s knee-jerk defense of the shooting; and his decision to flood the city with more ICE agents prompted a rare attack ad from the American Israel Public Affairs Committee, which does not normally weigh in on issues unconnected to, well, Israel.
The ad criticized former Democratic Rep. Tom Malinowski, who is running in a Feb. 5 primary for the House seat vacated by New Jersey Governor-elect Mikie Sherrill, for voting in favor of more ICE funding in a bipartisan 2019 border bill.
“We can’t trust Tom Malinowski” to stand up to Trump over ICE, said the ad.
Even if it was a cynical use of an issue to undermine a candidate AIPAC may oppose for other reasons — Malinowski is a former director of the nonprofit Human Rights Watch, which accused Israel of apartheid — AIPAC correctly understands how American Jews feel about Trump’s use of ICE: worried sick.
The abuse of state power, the breach in civil liberties, and the atmosphere of intimidation echoes some of the darkest times in Jewish history.
Nothing in Trump’s response to the situation — or his past efforts to engage with civil protest — suggests he will work to calm the situation, back down, or change the approach to international and domestic affairs that has unsettled Americans and American Jews.
And that suggests the most disorienting fact of all, for Jews as for all other Americans: There’s still three years left.
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