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Beyond the ‘Day of Hate’: The best strategy to keep American Jews safe over the long term
(JTA) — My synagogue sent out a cautiously anxious email yesterday about an event coming this Shabbat, a neo-Nazi “Day of Hate.” The email triggered fuzzy memories of one of the strangest episodes that I can remember from my childhood.
Sometime around 1990, in response to local neo-Nazi activity, some Jews from my community decided to “fight back.” I don’t know whether they were members of the militant Jewish Defense League, or perhaps just sympathetic to a JDL-style approach. When our local Jewish newspaper covered the story, it ran on its front cover a full-page photo of a kid from my Orthodox Jewish high school. The photo showed a teenage boy from behind, wearing a kippah and carrying a baseball bat that was leaning threateningly on his shoulder.
As it happens, “Danny” was not a member of the JDL, he was a kid on his way to play baseball. Sometimes, a baseball bat is just a baseball bat. But not for us anxious Jews in America: We want to see ourselves as protagonists taking control of our destiny, responding to antisemites with agency, with power, with a plan. I’m sorry to say that as I look around our community today, it seems to me that we have agency, and we have power — but we certainly don’t seem to have a plan.
The tactics that the American Jewish community uses to fight back against antisemitism are often ineffective on their own and do not constitute a meaningful strategy in the composite. One is that American Jews join in a partisan chorus that erodes our politics and fixates on the antisemitism in the party they don’t vote for. This exacerbates the partisan divide, which weakens democratic culture, and turns the weaponizing of antisemitism into merely a partisan electoral tactic for both sides.
Another tactic comes from a wide set of organizations who have declared themselves the referees on the subject and take to Twitter to name and shame antisemites. This seems to amplify and popularize antisemitism more than it does to suppress it.
A third common tactic is to pour more and more dollars into protecting our institutions with robust security measures, which no one thinks will defeat antisemitism, but at least seeks to protect those inside those institutions from violence, though it does little to protect Jews down the street. Richer Jewish institutions will be safer than poorer ones, but Jews will continue to suffer either way.
A fourth tactic our communal organizations use to fight antisemitism is to try to exact apologies or even fines from antisemites to get them to retract their beliefs and get in line, as the Anti-Defamation League did with Kyrie Irving, an approach that Yair Rosenberg has wisely argued is a no-win proposition. Yet another tactic is the insistence by some that the best way to fight antisemitism is to be proud Jews, which has the perverse effect of making our commitment to Jewishness dependent on antisemitism as a motivator.
And finally, the most perverse tactic is that some on both the right and the left fight antisemitism by attacking the ADL itself. Since it is so hard to defeat our opponents, we have started beating up on those that are trying to protect us. What could go wrong?
Steadily, like a drumbeat, these tactics fail, demonstrating themselves to be not a strategy at all, and the statistics continue to show a rise in antisemitism.
Perhaps we are too fixated on the idea that antisemitism is continuous throughout Jewish history, proving only that there is no effective strategy for combating this most persistent of hatreds.
Instead, we would do well to recall how we responded to a critical moment in American Jewish history in the early 20th century. In the aftermath of the Leo Frank lynching in 1915 – the murder of a Jewish man amid an atmosphere of intense antisemitism — Jewish leaders formed what would become the ADL by building a relationship with law enforcement and the American legal and political establishment. The ADL recognized that the best strategy to keep American Jews safe over the long term, in ways that would transcend and withstand the political winds of change, was to embed in the police and criminal justice system the idea that antisemitism was their problem to defeat. These Jewish leaders flipped the script of previous diasporic experiences; not only did they become “insiders,” they made antisemitism anathema to America itself. (And yes, it was the Leo Frank incident that inspired “Parade,” the forthcoming Broadway musical that this week attracted white supremacist protesters.)
For Jews, the high-water mark of this strategy came in the aftermath of the Tree of Life shooting in Pittsburgh. It was the low point in many ways of the American Jewish experience, the most violent act against Jews on American soil, but it was followed by a mourning process that was shared across the greater Pittsburgh community. The words of the Kaddish appeared above the fold of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. That is inconceivable at most other times of Jewish oppression and persecution. It tells the story of when we are successful – when antisemitism is repudiated by the general public. It is the most likely indicator that we will be collectively safe in the long run.
We were lucky that this move to partner with the establishment was successful. I felt this deeply on a recent trip to Montgomery, Alabama. Seeing the memorials to Black Americans persecuted and lynched by and under the very system that should have been protecting them from the worst elements of society is a reminder that not all minorities in America could then — or today — win over the elements of American society that control criminal justice.
Visitors view items left by well-wishers along the fence at the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh on the first anniversary of the attack there, Oct. 27, 2019. (Jeff Swensen/Getty Images)
A strategic plan to defeat antisemitism that must be collectively embraced by American Jews would build on this earlier success and invest in the infrastructure of American democracy as the framework for Jewish thriving and surviving, and continue the historic relationship-building that changed the Jews’ position in America. It would stop the counterproductive internecine and partisan battle that is undermining the possibility of Jewish collective mobilization.
It means more investment, across partisan divides, in relationships with local governments and law enforcement, using the imperfect “definitions of antisemitism” as they are intended — not for boundary policing, but to inform and help law enforcement to monitor and prevent violent extremism. It means supporting lawsuits and other creative legal strategies, like Integrity First for America’s groundbreaking efforts against the Unite the Right rally organizers, which stymie such movements in legal gridlock and can help bankrupt them.
It means practicing the lost art of consensus Jewish collective politics which recognize that there must be some baseline agreement that antisemitism is a collective threat, even if any “unity” we imagine for the Jewish community is always going to be be instrumental and short-lived.
It means supporting institutions like the ADL, even as they remain imperfect, even as they sometimes get stuck in some of the failed strategies I decried above, because they have the relationships with powerful current and would-be allies in the American political and civic marketplace, and because they are fighting against antisemitism while trying to stay above the partisan fray.
It means real education and relationship-building with other ethnic and faith communities that is neither purely instrumental nor performative — enough public relations visits to Holocaust museums! — so that we have the allies we need when we need them, and so that we can partner for our collective betterment.
And most importantly, it means investing in the plodding, unsexy work of supporting vibrant American democracy — free and fair elections, voting rights, the rule of law, peaceful transitions of power — because stable liberal democracies have been the safest homes for minorities, Jews included.
I doubt we will ever be able to “end” individual antisemitic acts, much less eradicate antisemitic hate. “Shver tzu zayn a Yid” (it’s hard to be a Jew). We join with our fellow Americans who live in fear of the lone wolves and the hatemongers who periodically terrorize us. But we are much more capable than we are currently behaving to fight back against the collective threats against us. Instead, let’s be the smart Americans we once were.
The real work right now is not baseball bats or billboards, it is not Jewish pride banalities or Twitter refereeing: It is quiet and powerful and, if done right, as American Jews demonstrated in the last century, it will serve us for the long term.
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At the Vatican, two elderly men — one Jewish, one Catholic — exchange gifts and mutual admiration
On Wednesday, two senior citizens, Robert Zimmerman, 85, a Jew originally from Minnesota, and Robert Prevost, 71, a Catholic of Chicago, had a brief meeting at the younger man’s office in central Italy.
Sources on the scene report that Zimmerman was in town for business and Prevost, who goes professionally by Leo, had recently cited Zimmerman’s work in the preface to a book about nuclear disarmament.
Both men dressed in uniform, looking a bit Spy Vs. Spy, with Zimmerman in a black hoodie and Prevost in white with a small white skull cap. The confab was brief, a bulletin from Prevost’s workplace reported, consisting of “greetings and a few lighthearted exchanges.”
Prevost gifted Zimmerman with prayer beads, and Zimmerman presented Prevost with a copy of his memoir, published under his pen name, Bob Dylan.
While Zimmerman was raised in a Jewish home, he had, for a time in the late 1970s to early 1980s, converted to born-again Christianity, confounding many.
The post At the Vatican, two elderly men — one Jewish, one Catholic — exchange gifts and mutual admiration appeared first on The Forward.
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The Michigan Senate race showed the exact wrong ways to fight antisemitism
The campaign against Abdul El-Sayed was example after example of how not to fight antisemitism—a display of conflation, double standards, and bigotry that we need to learn from and reject if we hope to ensure Jewish safety and security in a pluralistic society.
El-Sayed won his election Tuesday with 52.5% of the vote. He won despite an ugly campaign that alleged that he was not only critical of Israel but antisemitic, and that he does not care about or consider Jewish safety, and in which he was repeatedly asked to prove his sincerity on Jewish safety while also being attacked for running for office while being Muslim.
El-Sayed is not above criticism and questions from Jews just because he is a Democrat and most Jews vote for Democrats. It is right and appropriate that Senate candidates have to answer questions about antisemitism. El-Sayed did campaign with Twitch streamer Hasan Piker in the primary, and Piker did liken Zionists to Nazis, and many Jews in Michigan and elsewhere are Zionists; it is appropriate for El-Sayed to be asked about that.
It is also fair for a candidate who is vocal in his criticism of Israel to be asked how he’ll work to ensure the safety of his Jewish constituents, since we know that there is at least a correlation between anger at Israel and violence directed toward Jews. After West Bloomfield, Michigan’s own Temple Israel was attacked, El-Sayed did say, “hurt people hurt people,” and though he was referring to a specific event—the perpetrator’s family was reportedly killed in an airstrike in Lebanon—it is understandable that he was called upon to explain his own remarks to upset Jewish families in his state, whom he is also charged with representing in Congress.
From this point, however, the campaign against El-Sayed developed in several ways.
For one thing, when critics make demands of politicians, they need to actually allow those politicians to meet them. Yet despite distancing himself from Hasan Piker (“a Twitch streamer,” as he repeated to reporters), speaking repeatedly about how and why he took the safety of Jewish Michiganders seriously, and apologizing at length for his “hurt people hurt people” comment, El-Sayed was treated in the media and by his political opponents (and by some Democrats) as suspect and insincere.
These same questions were not asked of his opponent, Republican Mike Rogers, whose student outreach team included someone who defended a Young Republicans group chat praising Hitler.
If El-Sayed had to speak repeatedly about Piker, why did Rogers not have to answer whether he accepted the view of the U.S. president—who like Piker, joined his preferred candidate on the campaign trail—that any Jew who voted for El-Sayed was crazy and should be ashamed of themselves? (This was not a one-off missive, but the latest in the long line of Trump comments insisting on American Jewish responsibility to be loyal to Israel by voting for him, Donald Trump.)
Why wasn’t Rogers grilled on what he made of comments by Ohio’s U.S. Senator Bernie Moreno implying that senators should have to believe in Jesus, a remark that if rendered policy would impact El-Sayed and also, say, every Jew in public office?
The discrepancy suggests that reporters, pundits, politicians, and Jewish leaders do not take antisemitism seriously from all corners, and in fact that they consider it worse and more suspect from a Muslim American who criticizes Israel than a Republican who doesn’t.
Worse, still, is that that Republicans trafficked in vile anti-Muslim hate throughout the campaign. Rozina Ali, author of Seasons of Fury: Four Families and the Rise of Islamophobia in America, wrote on X on Tuesday, “Islamophobia appears to be on the ballot in Michigan, in an unprecedented way.” These tropes weren’t new, Ali explained, but they were at a fever pitch this election, with El-Sayed dubbed a “jihadist leprechaun” by a sitting Senator. The vice president of the United States said El-Sayed has “zero attachment to this land.”
Too often, Jewish leaders and institutions met this rhetoric with silence, or even encouragement. As I argued last week, dual loyalty narratives against one population just make the voting public more comfortable with the trope being used against other groups, including Jews. Moreover: Silence is not going to build solidarity from non-Jews, and Jews — just 1.4% of voters in Michigan and two percent of this country — are not going to fight antisemitism on our own.
Finally and troublingly was the willingness of El-Sayed’s primary opponent, Haley Stevens, to claim that it was Jewish safety that motivated her public questioning of El-Sayed (notably over an ad that his campaign did not put out) and her eventual flip to campaigning and voting for Rogers. Stevens is a staunch supporter of Israel and was backed by AIPAC. However, she is not Jewish (though she said she is considering converting), and yet spoke repeatedly as if she had authority on what Jewish voters in Michigan wanted to hear from El-Sayed. But she was not an emissary from Jewish voters, who are not a monolith — and 60 percent of whom, per one exit poll, voted for El-Sayed.
What can we learn from this race? First, conflating criticism of Israel and calls for more challenging policies toward Israel with attitudes toward Jewish voters needs to stop, even or especially while understanding that anger toward the country can be channeled against the people here.
Candidates of both parties, regardless of their positions on Israel, need to be held accountable with demands for real answers on what they will do for the well-being of all of their constituents, including Jews, and including when those stumping for them challenge the idea of full Jewish participation in civic life.
Jewish voters need to reject the idea that Islamophobia and antisemitism are somehow at odds with each other, and that it costs us something to call out hatred of Muslim Americans when in fact, so often, we are on the same side of racist hatred. (On Tuesday night, X was filled with posts blaming Jews for El-Sayed’s victory and bemoaning what it meant for American culture.)
And reporters, pundits, politicians, Jewish leaders, and for that matter Jewish voters need to stop speaking about Jewish voters on antisemitism and Israel as though all of us understand the intersection of these issues in the same way or want to hear the same things about them from politicians.
Since Abdul El-Sayed will be in the Senate starting in January, we will soon have ample opportunity to put these lessons into practice.
The post The Michigan Senate race showed the exact wrong ways to fight antisemitism appeared first on The Forward.
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Trump’s midterm defeat changes the equation for Netanyahu and Israel
The Republican rout in the U.S. midterm elections may have consequences far beyond America’s shores. The most immediate impact could be in Israel, where the struggle to translate Benjamin Netanyahu’s electoral defeat into a change of government is entering its decisive stage.
In the week that has passed since the Israeli election, there was much anticipation that Trump might intervene to rescue his longtime ally. He endorsed Netanyahu, suggested that Israel’s security depended on his continued leadership, and hinted that renewed war with Iran depended on his victory (seeming to believe, perhaps falsely, that Israelis yearn for this). There was speculation that he might pressure opposition leaders into joining a unity government headed by Netanyahu, reversing the political meaning of Israel’s election.
Now the American electorate may have changed the equation.
The Democrats’ sweeping gains, which enabled them to seize decisive control of both houses of Congress, represent a substantial repudiation of Trump’s administration. The president retains enormous authority over foreign policy and national security – but in January he faces a hostile Congress, increased scrutiny of his decisions and a political environment even less hospitable to another Middle Eastern military adventure.
There is a counterintuitive possibility, of course: Trump might conclude that the period before the new Congress takes office offers a final opportunity to strike Iran. A weakened president is not necessarily a restrained president, and yet another unpopular war, especially one suspected of serving Netanyahu’s political interests, could deepen the backlash against Trump at home as Republicans are already looking fearfully at 2028.
It’s reasonable to think that many of them would not want to be associated with a strong-arming of Israel’s opposition in order to rescue Netanyahu, who is, fairly or unfairly, scarcely less toxic in the United States these days than Vladimir Putin.
The larger point: Trump’s political leverage has diminished. His presidency has an expiration date, and the American political system is already beginning to look beyond him. This will offer headwinds to those Israeli politicians who argue that a government that could serve for years should be cautious about treating the preferences of a politically weakened American president as decisive.
That is an especially potent thought on Wednesday, as Israeli President Isaac Herzog begins consultations with Israel’s newly elected parliamentary factions.
Israel’s election produced a clear numerical result: Netanyahu’s bloc won 53 seats in the 120-member Knesset, while parties opposed to his continued rule secured 67. The opposition has a parliamentary majority, although it is struggling to form a governing coalition.
Under Israel’s system, the president consults representatives of the elected parties, who recommend a candidate to form the government. Herzog must then decide which lawmaker has the best prospect of assembling one. The recommendations are politically important but not legally binding, and the president is not required to select whoever receives the most endorsements, though this is the tradition.
If former IDF chief Gadi Eisenkot receives recommendations representing 67 seats, that would establish the breadth of parliamentary opposition to Netanyahu. Eisenkot would likely be tapped, and then he would face the central difficulty: what to do about Israel’s Arab parties.
Of the 67 seats held by Netanyahu’s opponents, 19 belong to Arab parties, whose electoral success reflected a remarkable increase in Arab turnout – which at around 85 percent exceeded that of Israel’s Jews. Several Jewish opposition leaders promised during the campaign not to rely on those parties to establish a government.
Eisenkot himself has said that he would demand any coalition partners agree that Hamas should be removed as a military and governing body in Gaza, which the Arab parties have not yet done. Polls show that a majority of opposition voters favor finding a way to form a government, even if it’s dependent on the Arab parties.
Indeed, many are arguing that this is a test of Israel’s democracy, and that for the opposition to stick to its refusal to rely on the Arab parties would strengthen enemies of Israel who argue that it is not a true democracy.
Here, too, the American midterms offer an intriguing counterpoint.
According to a voting breakdown in The New York Times, Republicans received 51 percent of the white vote, compared with 48 percent for Democrats. Would anyone seriously argue that the Democratic congressional victory is illegitimate because it depended partly on Black, Hispanic and Asian voters? Should Republicans retain the House speakership because they performed better among white Americans?
Of course not. Yet Israel faces an argument with a disturbingly similar implication.
If a parliamentary majority cannot govern because some of its members are considered unacceptable on ethnic or national grounds, the damage to Israel’s democratic reputation could be immense.
Under Israeli parliamentary rules, a government can win confidence through a majority of those participating in the vote. Abstentions or outside support from Arab lawmakers could therefore make a minority government possible.
With 48 seats for the non-Arab opposition parties, all Eisenkot would need would be the more moderate of the Arab parties, Ra’am, which has eight seats, to show support. The new coalition’s 56 seats could outvote Netanyahu’s 53 to win Knesset confirmation, even with the 11-seat Joint Arab List abstaining. That means Eisenkot does not necessarily require 61 affirmative votes to take office.
The obstacle is Avigdor Lieberman, head of the seven-seat Yisrael Beitenu party. A nationalist West Bank settler, he has fallen out with both Netanyahu and his ultra-Orthodox allies, and has been counted as part of the opposition. This week he reiterated his vow not to support a government dependent on Arab parties. But he also ruled out rejoining with Netanyahu, and described a repeat election as the worst option.
So while the outcome is clear now in the United States, in Israel the guessing game continues.
The post Trump’s midterm defeat changes the equation for Netanyahu and Israel appeared first on The Forward.
