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Does anime have a Nazi problem? Some Jewish fans think so.
TAIPEI (JTA) — When the Season 3 plot twist of “Attack on Titan” aired in 2019, viewers wasted no time in jumping online to discuss what they saw.
In the world of “Attack on Titan” — an extremely popular Japanese anime series now in its final season, which started in March and does not have a known end date — humanity has been trapped within a walled city on the island of Paradis, surrounded by Titans, grotesque giants who mindlessly eat any person who gets in their way.
In the third season, the Titans’ origins are revealed as a group called the Eldians, a group that made a deal with the devil to gain Titan powers with which they subjugated humanity for years. A group called the Marleyans later overthrew the Eldian empire and forced them into ghettoes, forcing them to wear armbands that identified their race with a symbol similar to the Star of David. Political prisoners were injected with a serum that turns them into the terrifying Titans.
The implications that a race meant to represent Jews had made “a deal with the devil” to achieve power were too much for some to bear. Fans debated the meaning on Twitter and Reddit as think pieces pointed to the show’s “fascist subtext” and possible antisemitism as ratings and viewership climbed. Some viewers defended the series as a condemnation of those ideas and a meditation on moral ambiguity, but others said the plot’s condemnation of fascism was too weak. The New Republic in 2020 called “Attack on Titan” “the alt-right’s favorite manga.”
Either way, in November 2021, the show’s production team announced it would cancel the sale of Eldian armbands — the ones Eldians were forced to wear in their ghettos — explaining that it was “an act without consideration to easily commercialize what was drawn as a symbol of racial discrimination and ethnic discrimination in the work.”
“Attack on Titan” is only the latest manga (a specific type of Japanese comic books or graphic novels) or anime (TV shows or movies animated in the manga style) series on the chopping block. As it continues to gain popularity outside of Japan’s borders, the Japanese animation medium as a whole has been hit with criticism for alleged glorification of antisemitism, fascism and militarism. The debate has been fueled by a stream of examples: the literal evil Jewish cabal in “Angel Cop,” (references to Jews were later removed in the English-language dubbed version), the Fuhrer villain in “Fullmetal Alchemist,” the Nazi occultism (in which Nazis channel the occult to carry out duties or crimes) in “Hellboy,” and the Nazi characters in “Hellsing” and “Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure” to name a few.
Western viewers are not the only ones taking issue. Fans of “Attack on Titan” in South Korea — which was subject to Japanese war atrocities during World War II that Japan continues to deny — have taken issue, too. Revelations from Hajime Isayama, the creator of the original “Attack on Titan” manga, that a character in the series was inspired by an Imperial Japanese army general who had committed war crimes against Koreans were met with heated discussion and later death threats from Korean fans online. Some also pointed to a private Twitter account believed to be run by Isayama that denies imperial Japan’s war atrocities.
“Ridiculous the lengths a fandom will go to downplay the blatant antisemitism in a series and protect and lie about the creator of said series,” wrote one Twitter user. “[Y]ou doing this and ignoring koreans and jewish people says a lot.”
These themes are so common in manga and anime that some independent researchers like Haru Mena (a pen name) have begun creating classifications for the many Nazi tropes that make regular appearances. Mena, a military researcher who lectures annually at the Anime Boston convention about World War II and Nazi imagery in anime and manga, says the phenomenon is a result of how Japan remembers its role in World War II — not as the aggressor, but as a victim of war.
“Japan does not want to be the bad guy. They love to have other people be the bad guy,” he said. “That’s why they’re using all these Nazi characters. We all agree Nazis are bad, war crimes are bad, no decent self-respecting nation would ever do [what they did].”
But many Jewish anime fans, like Reddit user Desiree (who did not offer her last name for privacy reasons), have taken issue with the way some anime and manga series portray Nazis while reducing the Holocaust to narrative devices.
“I think that most people who are telling these stories aren’t coming from an area where this would be as personally familiar,” she said. “There’s almost no resonance to it. Because they take away all these details they make it a big trope.”
hi
anime and manga have an antisemitism problem
good day
— Kay (he/they, she for friends only) (@Cayliana) February 19, 2022
East Asian interest in Nazi imagery has also bled over into the West in the form of news headlines in recent years — involving everything from Nazi-themed bars and parades to Nazi cosplay in Japan, Taiwan, Thailand and Korea.
But some experts say that repeated references to Nazi villains and World War II in manga and anime have more to do with Japanese history and culture than with antisemitism.
“There is a fascination with Nazism in Japan to some degree or another,” said Raz Greenberg, an Israel-based writer whose Ph.D. research examined Jewish influence on Japan’s “God of Comics,” Osamu Tezuka, an artist sometimes referred to as Japan’s equivalent to Walt Disney. In 1983, Tezuka released the first in a five-volume series called “Adolf,” a popular manga set in World War II-era Japan and Germany about three men with that name — a Japanese boy, a Jewish boy and Hitler.
“I think there’s something fascinating about Nazi aesthetic, certainly for countries that never actually participated in the war against the Nazis. But I don’t think it’s that different from, say, the way George Lucas made the Empire in the ‘Star Wars’ films very Nazi-like in its aesthetic,” Greenberg said.
As Greenberg notes, Western media is also full of Holocaust references — some more successful in its repudiation of Nazi ideology than others — like the numbered tattoos and recent use of a Lithuanian prison camp as a filming location in the Netflix hit show “Stranger Things.”
“What makes people angry is, people think when the Japanese approach it, they approach it without understanding. And it’s easier to think that they don’t understand it when you look at a show like ‘Attack on Titan,’” Greenberg said.
Liron Afriat, a Ph.D. candidate at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem’s Asian Sphere program and the founder of the Anime and Manga Association of Israel, said while shows like “Attack on Titan” reference the Holocaust and use World War II-era imagery, it’s likely that Western viewers are misinterpreting its intended parallels to Japanese politics. … particularly Japan’s past of aggressive and corrupt militarism and late former Prime Minister Shinzo Abe’s attempts to reinstate a non-defensive military.
“Western people are very eager to jump to conclusions when it comes to Asian media. This is something I see a lot in my work and it’s very frustrating,” she said. “There is a sense that because Japanese pop culture is so popular nowadays, it’s very easy to kind of dogpile on it and say it’s racist.”
In recent decades, anime series have been watched by hundreds of millions of people around the world, and the medium has gone from being seen in the West as a geeky niche genre to a mainstream phenomenon. Though show creators may be conscious about their references, some fans say the fascist and Jewish references, especially the more clear-cut ones — like the Jewish conspiracy in “Angel Cop” — have real-life consequences.
Many in the anime fan community today remember a 2010 incident at Anime Boston when a group of cosplayers dressed up as characters from “Hetalia: Axis Powers,” a series that anthropomorphized Axis and Ally countries, was photographed making Nazi salutes just around the corner from the city’s Holocaust memorial.
“It used to be like, I can go to an anime convention and they would be selling uniforms that were clearly meant to be Nazi uniforms, but sans the swastika,” Desiree said. “And then over time, I noticed conventions started banning that kind of thing.”
“JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure” features a Nazi character named Rudol von Stroheim. (Screenshot from YouTube)
Noah Oskow is the managing editor of the digital magazine Unseen Japan and a Jew who has lived in Japan for seven years. He recalled similar experiences at U.S. anime conventions.
“I think that it is problematic to portray Nazis and the Holocaust in the very frivolous way that it’s often portrayed,” he said. “Even in a place that is so far removed from Japan, that aesthetic of Nazis from manga or anime was seeping into somebody’s choices in a far-removed anime and manga event.”
Oskow says recent portrayals of Nazis and fascism in anime and manga lack the depth necessary to confront an issue like the Holocaust, but that some subtext in shows like “Attack on Titan” is likely missed by Western viewers since it is created for a Japanese audience.
Still, he says, as a Jew, there is a discomfort with these depictions, and the problems with simplifying themes like fascism and genocide should not be ignored just because the product came from Japan — particularly as stereotypes about Jews as having outsize influence remain common. In Japan, as in other East Asian nations such as South Korea, China and Taiwan, books and classes on how to become as smart and wealthy as Jews — believed to be among the most powerful people in media and finance — are not uncommon.
“In my years of discussing Jews with Japanese people…they really think of Jews as an ancient historical people or the people who were killed in the Holocaust unless they have some sort of conspiratorial idea. But most people have no conception of Jewish people,” Oskow said. “So when they’re portraying Jews in manga or anime or any sort of media, and when readers or viewers are engaging with that media, I just don’t think there’s this thought of how a Jewish person would perceive how they’re being portrayed.”
Jessica, a 29-year-old Jewish and Chinese anime fan from Vancouver who also requested her last name be left out of this article, said she deliberately chooses not to watch shows such as “Attack on Titan” and “Hetalia” because she finds the discussions about them among fans to be unproductive and frustrating. Desiree echoed Jessica’s experience of being ignored when raising the topic of antisemitism within the medium or within the fan community on platforms such as Reddit.
“I saw the reactions of other Jewish fans and, more importantly, saw the reaction of the goyish fans — the way ‘Hetalia’ fans did the sieg heil in front of a Holocaust memorial, the way that [‘Attack on Titan’] fans would swarm concerned Jewish fans in droves to tell them that they should perish in an oven, and I decided I didn’t want anything to do with anime that attracted that sort of fanbase,” Desiree said.
“Attack on Titan” returned to streaming services on March 4 with the first part of its final season. In the first episode, the protagonist Eren, whom audiences have followed for a decade, begins carrying out a global genocide known as “the rumbling” with the end goal of destroying all Titans for good and bringing peace. The end result is a wipeout of 80% of humanity, an act that Eren believes was the only path to freedom. He thinks humans must all suffer as a consequence of being born into the world — a nihilistic philosophy that can be found among the manifestos of school shooters and incels.
In the original manga series, Eren’s supporters on the island militarize in order to defend Eren’s violent act, chanting a slogan: “If you can fight you win, if you cannot fight you lose! Fight, fight!” The ending was seen as morally ambiguous and was not popular with fans, who mostly refuted it due to poor writing. Many hope that the anime series will go a different route in its final episodes, which have not yet been released or given future release dates.
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Nearly forbidden: Street signs in an ‘unwanted’ language
דער קינסטלער שעבעשטיען פֿיומײ איז, אײן זוניקן טאָג אין פֿרילינג 2021, געשטיגן אױף אַ לײטער און אױפֿגעהאָנגען אַ װײַסן גאַסנשילד מיט ייִדישע אותיות׃ „גרענאַדיערשטראַסע“. װען נישט דעם אַלף־בית װאָלט פֿיומײס קונסטװערק געװען אַ צװילינג מיטן אָפֿיציעלן שילד דעריבער, װאָס װײַזט אין גלחות דעם הײַנטיקן נאָמען פֿון דער גאַס אין צענטער בערלין׃ „Almstadtstraße“.
גרענאַדירשטראַסע איז ביז 1938 געװען די באַרימטסטע „ייִדישע גאַס“ אין דער שטאָט, ספּעציעל בײַ ייִדיש־רעדערס. דער דײַטשמערישער אױסלײג מיטן שטומען „ע“ שטאַמט פֿון אַ ייִדישן שילד װאָס מ׳האָט אַ מאָל אַרױסגעהאָנגען אױף נומער 31, פֿאַרן „האָטעל אָדלער“.
אין אָט דעם איבערגעפּאַקטן בנין האָט מען נישט נאָר געקענט אײַנשטײן אין אַ פּיצל האָטעל, נאָר אױך קױפֿן גרינסן אין אַ שפּײַזקראָם, עסן אין אַ כּשרן רעסטאָראַן, לערנען חומש אין אַ תּלמוד־תּורה, לערנען גמרא אין אַ בית־מדרש – און דאַװענען אין אַזש פֿיר שטיבלעך!
פֿיומײס אומלעגאַלן גאַסנשילד האָט די נאַטשאַלסטװע גיך אַראָפּגענומען. אַ פֿונקציאָנאַר פֿון קװאַרטאַל־אַמט, נתּן פֿרידנבערג, איז אָבער מסכּים געװען מיט פֿיומיין אַז מע דאַרף סוף־כּל־סוף אָנערקענען די קולטורעל ייִדישע „אָסטיודן“ (די אַמאָליקע מיזרח־אייראָפּעיִשע ייִדן), נישט נאָר די אַסימילירטע „יעקעס“. און מע דאַרף געדענקען ווי ייִדן האָבן געלעבט, נישט בלויז ווי זיי זענען אומגעקומען. צוזאַמען מיט אַ היסטאָריקער פֿון „צענטרום יודאַיִקום“, דזשעס ערל, האָט פֿרידנבערג געפּרוּװט אָרגאַניזירן אַן ענלעכן זכּרון־שילד. נײן, צען אַזעלכע – אױף צען שכנותדיקע „ייִדישע גאַסן“.
ס׳איז נישט געװען פּשוט. דער װײַסער קאָליר, װי בײַ די „װאָרע“ גאַסנשילדן? פֿאַרבאָטן. דאָס װאָרט „שילד“? פֿאַרבאָטן. דאָס װאָרט „קונסט“? פֿאַרבאָטן אָן אַ קונסט־פֿאַרמעסט. ייִדיש גופֿא איז שיִער נישט פֿאַרבאָטן, װײַל אין דײַטשלאַנד איז דאָס נישט קײן אָנערקענטע מינאָריטעט־שפּראַך.
נאָך פֿינף יאָר מיט אַפּליקאַציעס און קאָמפּראָמיסן האָבן ערל און פֿרידנבערג אין מאַרץ אָרגאַניזירט אַ „פּרעסע־טערמין“ אױפֿן ראָג. די שלײער איז כאָטש אײן מאָל אַראָפּגעפֿאַלן אין װינט אײדער מע האָט אָפֿיציעל אױפֿגעדעקט דעם ערשטן „גאַסנצײכן“, װאָס מע טאָר נישט אָנרופֿן קײן גאַסנשילד׃ „גרענאַדיערשטראַסע“ אין אַ נײַער שריפֿט מיט פֿיומײס אױסלײג אױף אַ בלאָען הינטערגרונט. אַ צװײטער „צײכן“ דערקלערט דעם װיץ אױף דײַטש און ענגליש; אַ קו־אַר־קאָד פֿאַרלינקט אַ נײַ באַלערנדיק װעבזײַטל מיטן קעפּל „נעלם געװאָרן אָן אַ שפּור?“
צװישן די בערך 30 צוקוקערס – אַרײַנגערעכנט פּאָליטיקערס און רבנים – זענען כאָטש פֿיר ייִדישיסטן געװען אין עולם׃ אַ ייִדיש־פּאָעטעסע, אַ ייִדיש־קינסטלער, אַ ייִדיש־פֿאָרשערין און אַ געװעזענע ייִדיש־פּראָפֿעסאָרשע. אַלע האָבן זיך געפֿרייט צו זען די ייִדישע אותיות אױף דער אַלטער ייִדישער גאַס. בײַ דער טריבונע האָט מען אָבער נישט געהערט קײן וואָרט ייִדיש.
„אַװדאי נישט“, האָט מיר דזשעס ערל געזאָגט אָן חרטה. „די שפּראַך איז נישט דער עיקר. מע דערמאָנט זי בלױז װען ס׳איז טאַקע נײטיק.“ אױפֿן ענגלישן װעבזײַטל געפֿינט מען דאָס װאָרט Yiddish ערשט האַרט בײַם סוף פֿון אַלפֿאַבעטישן גלאָסאַר. נתּן פֿרידנבערג, להיפּוך, האָט געבעטן מחילה און צוגעזאָגט צו באַטײליקן ייִדיש־רעדערס אין צוקונפֿטיקע אונטערנעמונגען.
װער אָדער װאָס איז נעלם געװאָרן? רובֿ ייִדן אין הײַנטיקן דײַטשלאַנד זענען אימיגראַנטן פֿון מיזרח־אײראָפּע אָדער זײערע קינדער. די ייִדיש־זינגערין סאַשע לוריא, למשל, אַ געבױרענע פֿון לעטלאַנד, האָט זיך באַזעצט אין נױקעלן, אַ בערלינער אימיגראַנטן־קװאַרטאַל אַזױ װי די ייִדישע גאַס פֿון אַ מאָל. דאָרט האָט זי מיט די חבֿרים אױפֿגעבױט אַ באַלעבטע ייִדיש־מוזיק־סבֿיבֿה. „איך פֿיל זיך פֿאַרבונדן מיט די אַמאָליקע ייִדן פֿון אָט די גאַסן“, זאָגט לוריא. „זײ דערמאָנען מיך אין מײַנע קרובֿים.“
די סבֿיבֿה אין נױקעלן האָט דערפֿירט צום גרינדן אַ קולטור־אָרגאַניזאַציע, „שטעטל בערלין“, מיט כּסדרדיקע פּראָגראַמען און אַ יערלעכן פֿעסטיװאַל. אױך די פּאָעזיע־ און קונסט־סבֿיבֿה אַרום „ייִדיש.בערלין“ איז פֿיבעריש־פֿלײַסיק. (איך אַרבעט צוזאַמען מיט בײדע גרופּעס.) אין מאַרץ למשל זענען אין דער שטאָט פֿאָרגעקומען אַ כּליזמר־דזשעם־סעסיע; אַ שבת־טיש מיט פֿריש פּובליקירטע ייִדישע לידער; אַ ייִדיש־זינגערײַ; קאָנצערטן פֿון כאָטש דרײַ קאַפּעליעס; אַן אָװנט פֿון „שמועס און װײַן“ — אַ ייִדישער שמועסקרײַז אין אַ שענק; אַ רובריק װוּ ייִדיש־פּאָעטעסעס לײענען די ווערק פון אַנדערע ייִדיש־פּאָעטעסעס; װײַטערע לײען־ און שרײַבקרײַזן…
„אונדזער סבֿיבֿה האַלט אין װאַקסן“, זאָגט לוריא. „אַלץ עפֿטער הערט מען בײַ אונדזערע אונטערנעמונגען אויך שמועסן אויף ייִדיש.“
נישט אַלע „װאָרע“ גאַסנשילדן אין דײַטשלאַנד זענען בלױז אויף דײַטש. סוף מאַרץ בין איך מיט אַ געדונגענעם אױטאָ געפֿאָרן אָנדערטהאַלבן שעה קײן לאַוזיץ/לוזשיסקאַ, אַ ראַיאָן פֿון דײַטשלאַנד װוּ מע רעדט צװײ אָנערקענטע סלאַװישע מינאָריטעט־שפּראַכן׃ אונטער־סאָרביש (װענדיש) און אױבער־סאָרביש. אַרױספֿאָרנדיק פֿון שאָסײ האָב איך דערזען אַ שילד פֿאַר אַ דאָרף מיט צװײ נעמען, אַ דײַטשן און אַ סאָרבישן. אױך אַלע גאַסן האָבן צװײ נעמען. אָבער הערן האָב איך דעם גאַנצן סוף־װאָך אין ערגעץ נישט געהערט קײן סאָרביש װאָרט – ביז מיר זענען אַרײַן אין װענדישן מוזיי אין קאָטבוס/כעשעבוס.
במשך פֿון דער געשיכטע האָט דײַטשלאַנד אונטערגעדריקט די סאָרבישע שפּראַכן. פּרײַסן האָט אַרױפֿגעצװוּנגען אױף די סאָרבן דײַטשע נעמען. די נאַציס י״ש האָבן פֿאַרבאָטן פּובליקאַציעס און פֿאַרטריבן די גלחים כּדי צו פֿאַרדײַטשן די קלױסטערס. מיזרח־דײַטשלאַנד האָט באַזעצט דײַטש־רעדנדיקע פּליטים אין סאָרבישע דערפֿער און צונױפֿגעמישט די אַרבעטערס אין קאָלװירטן. עד־היום האָט מען חרובֿ געמאַכט 130 סאָרבישע דערפֿער לטובֿת די קױלנגריבער.
די ראָלע פֿון דײַטשלאַנד אין דער געשיכטע פֿון ייִדיש – דאָס מאַמע־לשון פֿון 85% פֿון די קדושים – קענען מיר שױן.
אונטער־סאָרביש האָבן סאָרבן אױפֿגעהערט איבערצוגעבן בירושה; אױבער־סאָרביש הערט מען נאָך בײַ געצײלטע קאַטױלישע משפּחות. פֿאַר בײדע שװעסטער־שפּראַכן האָט מען שוין אָבער דורכגעפֿירט ממשותדיקע צילן אויפֿצולעבן דאָס לשון׃ ביזן יאָר 2100 האָפֿט מען, אַז עס וועלן זײַן אַזש 100,000 סאָרביש־רעדערס!
הײַנט האָט דאָס סאָרבישע פֿאָלק מיט זײַנע צװײ לשונות געוויסע רעכט און דעריבער — געלט און אינסטיטוציעס. פֿאַראַן אַ מין סאָרבישער ייִװאָ (װאָס בײַט גערן דעם אױסלײג פֿון סאָרביש); צװײ קינסטלער־קאָלעקטיװן („קאָלעקטיװ.װאַקוּום“ און „נײַע סאָרבישע קונסט“), קאַפּעליעס, קינדער־גערטנער, אײַנטונק־פּראָגראַמען, אַ פֿאַרלאַג, צװײ מיטלשולן, און באַצאָלטע אַרבעט…
דער סאָרבישער ייִװאָ האָט אָנגעשטעלט צװײ לינגװיסטן, שימאָן בלום און עװאַן בליקלי, צו דאָקומענטירן די „לינגװיסטישע לאַנדשאַפֿט“. אױף זײערע ביציקלען האָבן זײ פֿאָטאָגראַפֿירט יעדן סאָרבישן גאַסנשילד אין 70 דערפֿער. „װען איך האָב צום ערשטן מאָל דערהערט קינדער רעדנדיק אױפֿן לשון“, דערצײלט בליקלי, „האָב איך זיך כּמעט צעװײנט.“
דער סאָרבישער קינסטלער בערנהאַרד שיפּער האָט מיר געזאָגט אַז די שילדן זענען אים „גאָר װיכטיק“. אַזױ װײס מען אַז ס׳איז דאָס סאָרבישע געביט. „דאָס פֿאַרשטײט זיך אַלײן.“
די סאָרבישע שילדן האָבן אױך אינספּירירט מיעטאָ נאָאַק, דעם אַמאָליקן פֿאָרזיץ פֿונעם מינאָריטעטן־סעקרעטאַריאַט װאָס פֿאַרטײדיקט אַלע זיבן דײַטשע מינאָריטעט־שפּראַכן. קינדװײַז האָט ער אַ מאָל באַמערקט אַזאַ שילד, און שפּעטער זיך אױסגעלערנט אונטער־סאָרביש און געװאָרן אַ שפּראַך־אַקטיװיסט.
אין זײַן ענטפֿער אױף מײַן בקשה האָט נאָאַק געשריבן׃ „כ׳האָב זיך שױן אָפֿט געפֿרעגט פֿאַרװאָס ייִדיש איז נישט קײן מינאָריטעט־שפּראַך אין דײַטשלאַנד. אין אַכט אײראָפּעיִשע לענדער איז עס יאָ אַזוי.“
אױף אַ שפּאַציר לענג־אױס גרענאַדירשטראַסע האָב איך דערצײלט נאָאַקן מעשׂיות פֿונעם ייִדישן אַמאָל און דעם ייִדישיסטישן הײַנט. האָבן מיר זיך אַװעקגעזעצט בײַ אַ קאַפֿע לעבן דעם שילד. קוקנדיק אױף די פֿאַרבײַגײערס האָט ער פֿאַר מיר אַנטפּלעקט די סודות פֿון מינאָריטעט־שפּראַכן און באַשלאָסן צו שרײַבן אַן אײגענעם אַרטיקל װעגן די ייִדיש־שילדן – אױף אונטער־סאָרביש.
אַגבֿ, אין פֿרילינג 2021 האָט פֿיומײ נישט נאָר אונטערגענומען זײַן קינסטלערישע אינטערװענציע. ער האָט אױך מיט זײַן מיטװױנערין עליאַנאַ דזשײקאָבס לאַנסירט אַ פּאָליטישע קאַמפּאַניע לטובֿת ייִדיש װי די אַכטע מינאָריטעט־שפּראַך פֿון דײַטשלאַנד. די לעצטע מעלדונג אויפֿן אינפֿאָרמאַטיװן פֿייסבוק־זײַטל לכּבֿוד דעם דאָזיקן אויפֿרוף שטאַמט פֿון יענעם אָקטאָבער, נאָר די צען נײַע שילדן האָבן באַנײַט די דיסקוסיע.
„לאָמיר פֿאָרט אויפֿלעבן די קאַמפאַניע!“ האָט מיר דזשייקאָבס געזאָגט.
„ס׳איז אַ גאַנץ רעאַליסטישער געדאַנק“, האָט סאַשע לוריא מסכּים געווען.
הייסט עס, אין לעצטן סך־הכּל, איז ייִדיש אין בערלין טאַקע נישט נעלם געװאָרן.
The post Nearly forbidden: Street signs in an ‘unwanted’ language appeared first on The Forward.
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The ‘godfather of denim’ was an Italian designer whose Jewish father was murdered at Auschwitz
(JTA) — Adriano Goldschmied became known as the “godfather of denim” for elevating jeans from casual wear to a luxury staple. His own father’s story was equally riveting.
Goldschmied, who died April 5 at 82, following a battle with cancer in a hospital in Castelfranco Veneto, Italy, credited himself with founding or developing at least 50 brands, including Diesel, AG, Replay, Gap 1969, A Golde and Goldsign.
He was just an infant in 1944 when his Italian Jewish father was arrested by the Nazis.
Goldschmied’s mother, Sofia, was in hiding with his sister at the time of his birth on Nov. 29, 1943, in Vico Canavese, Italy. The Nazis had invaded Italy just months earlier.
His father, Livio, had joined the Italian resistance after the Nazis took over. When he tried to visit his wife, daughter and newborn son, he was apprehended en route. One of six people with his last name deported by the Nazis via Milan’s central station, he was ultimately sent to Auschwitz, where he was killed several months later.
According to a testimony made by a survivor to Yad Vashem, Israel’s Holocaust center, Livio was denounced by a midwife and received permission to visit his son briefly after his arrest. The testimony, which cannot be independently verified, said he had rejected an offer to move to the United States to work with the physicist Enrico Fermi because he would not have been able to bring his family, and had also declined an opportunity to escape from the train that took him to Auschwitz.
Following the war, Goldschmied moved with his mother to Trieste. He later spent a stint pursuing skiing in the 1960s in Cortina, the ski resort in the Southern Alps.
He did not speak readily about his family’s Holocaust history, and unlike his sister, he did not connect with his Jewish heritage. Diana was responsible for installing Stolpersteine, small memorials embedded in sidewalks documenting the Jews who lived at that address before the Holocaust, to commemorate their family members who were murdered.
“Like my father, my brother was a man of great intelligence and extraordinary intuition,” Diana told the Italian-Jewish news outlet Moked. “However, he did not want to talk about our family history. I think memory was working inside him, though.”
Goldschmied got his start in fashion in the 1970s, when he launched his shop, King’s Shop, in Cortina d’Ampezzo, and started a denim line, Daily Blue.
“That first production was going to a fabric store in my hometown, buying crazy fabrics for a very high price and going through manufacturing with my tailor,” Goldschmied told Women’s Wear Daily in 2023. “The product was extremely expensive, and in some way, I created a premium denim by accident.”
In 1981, Goldschmied went on to found the Genius Group, a collective that backed emerging labels like Diesel, Replay and Goldie.
Among Goldschmied’s innovations throughout his career were the development of the stonewash technique, experimenting with Tencel fibers, creating super-stretch denim and pioneering sustainable production methods as early as the 1990s.
“He was the architect of a global staple,” Mariette Hoitink, the co-founder of House of Denim, told Women’s Wear Daily. “Adriano didn’t just design jeans; he orchestrated the greatest transformation in the history of apparel. He was the singular force who elevated denim from rugged workwear into a global fashion staple.”
Goldschmied is survived by his wife, Michela; his daughters Sara, Marta and Glenda; two grandchildren; and his sister.
“Adriano and I led very separate lives,” Diana told Moked. “I rediscovered my Jewish identity. He took a different path, but everyone carries the past within them.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post The ‘godfather of denim’ was an Italian designer whose Jewish father was murdered at Auschwitz appeared first on The Forward.
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Not Stupidity — Something Worse: Why the ‘Israel Controls America’ Myth Keeps Spreading
US President Joe Biden and Democratic presidential candidate and US Vice President Kamala Harris react onstage at the Democratic National Convention (DNC) in Chicago, Illinois, US, Aug. 19, 2024. Photo: REUTERS/Kevin Lamarque
In a recent post, Donald Trump took aim at Tucker Carlson, Megyn Kelly, Candace Owens, and Joe Kent, calling them “low IQ” and “losers,” and asking — between Carlson and Kent — “who is dumber?”
It was vintage Trump: blunt, theatrical, and calibrated to dominate a news cycle with a single line. He has long relied on that instinct — to compress a dispute into something sharp enough to stick. But beneath the spectacle sits a more serious issue.
The problem is not intelligence. Many of these figures are clearly relatively smart. The problem is that they — along with a growing chorus of voices on the political left such as Ana Kasparian, Cenk Uygur, and Mehdi Hasan — continue to advance a claim that collapses under minimal scrutiny. Strip away the stylistic differences, the accents, and the partisan framing, and the argument is identical: “Israel controls the United States,” or in its updated form, “Benjamin Netanyahu controls Donald Trump.”
That claim has resurfaced repeatedly over the years, sometimes dressed in more sophisticated language, sometimes stated outright. What makes its latest iteration notable is not merely its persistence, but where it is now being voiced.
This weekend, Kamala Harris, speaking at a Democratic fundraiser in Detroit, said that Donald Trump had been “pulled into this war” by Benjamin Netanyahu. That phrasing carries a clear implication: that the president of the United States — the commander-in-chief of the most powerful military in the world — is not acting independently but is being maneuvered into conflict by a foreign (Jewish) leader.
When this idea circulates on the fringes, it is dismissed. When amplified by pundits chasing attention, it’s often ignored. But when it’s echoed, even cautiously, by a former vice president and major presidential candidate, it crosses a different threshold. At that point, the claim can no longer be dismissed as noise. It has been normalized.
This is not a new idea. It is one of the oldest political accusations in circulation, and it is remarkably easy to test against reality. Only last week, Trump effectively dictated that Israel must accept a temporary ceasefire with Hezbollah — an outcome widely opposed within Israel, where many believe the campaign should be completed and remain skeptical that the Lebanese state will ever disarm Hezbollah. If Israel were directing American policy, that outcome would not occur.
Historically, the “Israel controls America” claim has appeared in different ideological forms but with identical substance. On the far-right, figures such as David Duke have advanced it explicitly. On the far-left, figures like Cynthia McKinney have repackaged it in political language. The wording changes, but the core allegation remains the same: that American power is not sovereign, but subject to external — specifically Jewish — control, echoing Henry Ford and his “International Jew” conspiracy theories of the 1920s and 1930s.
The argument collapses as soon as one examines scale and structure. The United States is a $27 trillion economy with unmatched global reach across military, financial, technological, and diplomatic domains. It maintains a permanent seat on the UN Security Council and leads a network of alliances that spans continents. Israel’s economy, by contrast, is approximately $700 billion. Its military is highly capable, but it is not a global force. It does not control sea lanes, command multinational coalitions, or set the terms of global finance. The disparity is not marginal; it is foundational.
This asymmetry is not unique. The United States maintains deep strategic relationships with many smaller allies such as South Korea, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, and Kuwait. In fact, the United States fought a war to liberate Kuwait in 1991, sustaining approximately 150 American combat fatalities in the process. Yet, almost no one claims Kuwait controls Washington, or that Saudi Arabia dictates US foreign policy. Only one small ally is routinely described in those terms.
The historical record reinforces the absurdity of this Israel “controls” America trope.
In 1956, despite repeated attacks on Israel from the Sinai and Egypt-controlled Gaza, Dwight D. Eisenhower forced Israel to withdraw from Sinai following the Suez Crisis; Israel complied. In 1982, Ronald Reagan pressured Israel to halt operations in Beirut, facilitating the evacuation of Yasser Arafat and the PLO leadership to Tunisia. In 1991, George H. W. Bush asked Israel not to respond to Iraqi Scud missile attacks to help preserve the US-led coalition; Israel absorbed 39 Scud strikes, 13 deaths, and stood down.
In 2015, Barack Obama advanced the Iran nuclear deal despite sustained Israeli opposition. Under Joe Biden, Israeli operations in Rafah were delayed for months under US pressure despite Israeli hostages being held there and its centrality to Hamas’ military infrastructure.
More recently, on June 24, 2025, as a Trump-negotiated ceasefire was taking effect, Iran launched multiple ballistic missiles at Beersheba, killing four Israelis. Israel prepared a large retaliatory strike. Trump intervened and effectively ordered Israel to turn its planes around.
This is what an unequal alliance looks like: coordination, pressure, and at times outright constraint. It is not a relationship where the far smaller country exercises “control.”
So why does the claim persist? Not because it is analytically persuasive — but because it is emotionally effective. Political narratives built on grievance often prefer simple explanations to complex realities.
It is easier to attribute outcomes to hidden manipulation than to acknowledge the interplay of strategic interests, risks, and constraints that define foreign policy decision-making.
There is also a deeper historical layer. For centuries, European political culture absorbed and transmitted variations of the same vile accusation: that Jews operate behind the scenes, exercising covert and pernicious influence over institutions and leaders.
So, when modern commentators repackage that idea — whether in the language of “influence,” “lobbying,” or outright “control” — it does not enter a neutral environment. It lands on fertile soil, reinforcing a long-established and familiar narrative.
Since World War II, the claim hasn’t changed — only its migration from the margins into the mainstream. And once it crosses that threshold, it stops being rhetoric and starts shaping behavior.
As it did in Germany after World War I, if a significant number of people come to believe that their government has been captured, that their leaders are not acting independently but are controlled by a nefarious external force, the range of conclusions and actions they will justify or rationalize expands dramatically. History offers no shortage of examples of where that logic can lead.
Trump attempted to reduce this to a punchline. But this is not a matter of tone. It is a warning sign. And this time, it is coming from closer to the political center than it has in a very long time.
Micha Danzig is an attorney, former IDF soldier, and former NYPD officer. He writes widely on Israel, Zionism, antisemitism, and Jewish history. He serves on the board of Herut North America.