(JTA) — Progressive Jewish Texas state Sen. Jon Rosenthal has earned an unusual distinction: He is the first Democrat to win the vote of GOP guru Karl Rove in more than 30 years.

What did the only Jew serving in the Texas state house do to earn this distinction? It’s more what he didn’t do: run for statewide office with a track record of spewing racially charged and antisemitic comments.

Bo French, the Republican nominee for Texas Railroad commissioner, has a history of rhetoric targeting people of color, Muslims and Jews, including a social media poll last year asking whether “Jews” or “Muslims” pose “a bigger threat to America.”

He also faced bipartisan blowback for a recent post targeting college students of color, and this week a CNN investigation revealed that French, in since-deleted posts, had called for public executions for former President Barack Obama, Jewish California Sen. Adam Schiff and government workers targeted by the so-called Department of Government Efficiency last year.

The controversy has elevated the race for an obscure statewide office – albeit one that regulates the state’s all-important energy industry – into a larger referendum on the GOP’s tolerance for bigotry, including antisemitism, among its nominees.

Rove, for one, has made it clear where he thinks the party should stand.

“The GOP has a growing number of Bo Frenches — and not only in Texas,” Rove wrote in The Wall Street Journal earlier this month in explaining his decision to back Rosenthal.

Rove singled out growing antisemitism in the party: “There are ‘just asking questions’ Jew-haters, misogynists who worship hypermasculinity, conspiracy nuts seeking clicks for profit, and religious bigots who won’t differentiate between Muslim terrorists and Muslim American patriots.”

Rove isn’t the only GOP stalwart to turn on French.

“Are other Republican elected officials going to condemn the intolerance and racism, or look the other way while it becomes normalized,” outgoing Texas Sen. John Cornyn wrote in condemning French’s social media musings. “This is how great political parties self-destruct.”

Cornyn has stopped short of backing Rosenthal, instead saying he might leave the ballot blank.

Texas Rep. Jon E. Rosenthal inside the House Chamber at the Texas Capitol in Austin on Aug. 18, 2025. (Mikala Compton/Austin American-Statesman via Getty Images)

Rosenthal and French have agreed to a debate on Oct. 22. French leads the race in polling released last week from Texas Southern University, but by a much slimmer margin than GOP candidates are accustomed to in Texas. Rosenthal’s campaign could also see a boost from fellow statewide Democratic candidate James Talarico, who is polling neck-and-neck with his opponent in the U.S. Senate race.

On social media, Rosenthal celebrated Rove’s endorsement, writing, “When GOP architect Karl Rove breaks a 30-year voting streak to endorse our campaign, it proves this race isn’t about party lines, it’s about competence vs. chaos.”

A former county Republican Party chair who defeated the incumbent GOP state railroad commissioner in a runoff primary, French spurred widespread backlash earlier this month after posting a photo of students of color at the University of Texas celebrating a football win to the social network X.

“I heard UT graduation this year looked like this. I didn’t believe it,” French had captioned the photo on Sept. 13. “The problem is now obviously far worse than anyone imagined.” He has since doubled down on the sentiment, replying, “I weep for the families in Texas who can’t get into UT because they prioritize foreigners over Texans,” and using the backlash to solicit donations.

Texas Gov. Greg Abbott and state House Speaker Dustin Burrows were among the other Republicans who criticized French for the post, though neither formally rescinded their support, and French continues to list Abbott’s endorsement on his site.

It was not French’s first brush with bigotry. In 2025, during his stint as Tarrant County GOP Chair, French posted an online “poll” asking his followers whether “Jews” or “Muslims” pose “a bigger threat to America.” In a follow-up post, he argued, “You may not like Jews, but to suggest they are a bigger threat to Americans is Jew Derangement Syndrome.”

French later deleted both posts, and has few visible tweets about Jews today. In later posts, he claimed, of himself, “There has never been any evidence of antisemitism. It would certainly be surprising to my Jewish partners.”

Jewish Republicans in the state and beyond are largely keeping their distance from French, with one exception. His campaign site currently touts an endorsement from American Jewish Conservatives, whose only listed chapter is in Dallas.

Neither French nor the group, formerly Dallas Jewish Conservatives, responded to JTA requests for comment on the endorsement. A spokesperson for the Republican Jewish Coalition also did not return a request for comment on French.

Last month French cited a desire to combat antisemitism when arguing that Texas should not use mosques as polling places. In other posts, he accused a university in the state of “harboring radical left/antisemitic professors,” identified himself as both pro-Israel and pro-Tucker Carlson, the talk show host who has platformed antisemites and anti-Jewish conspiracy theories, and told one follower, “I have never served Israel. Don’t be a retard.”

Texas Lt. Gov. Dan Patrick was among the GOP officials who condemned French’s tweet about Jews last year, calling on him to resign as county chair. “Antisemitism and religious bigotry have no place in Texas,” Patrick said then. French ultimately resigned months later in order to run for railroad commissioner.

Today, French lists Patrick as one of his endorsements. A spokesperson for Patrick, who recently told JTA he supported Texas schools assigning books on the Holocaust after public remarks apparently to the contrary, did not return a Jewish Telegraphic Agency request for comment.

French’s other listed endorsements include Texas congressional candidate Brandon Herrera, who has made jokes about Hitler and the Holocaust in YouTube videos.

Rove’s essay led to President Donald Trump wading into the controversy, calling Rove “so bad for the Republican Party, and completely wrong so often,” in a post on his social network Truth Social. Trump’s post did not mention French, nor address his past post about Jews.

The Texas railroad commission, composed of three members, oversees the state’s large and powerful oil and gas industry. It has no oversight into immigration or religion. Even so, French’s campaign has drifted far afield from energy issues: One of his pledges is “Stop the Islamic Invasion of Texas.”

French’s controversies have elevated the profile of Rosenthal, who was raised a Reform Jew in an interfaith household and whose Houston-area district is home to large Muslim communities. This year Rosenthal marked Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur by sharing links to Chabad-Lubavitch webpages about the holidays.

Rosenthal’s campaign did not respond to a JTA request for comment, but he told the Forward last year that he identifies as agnostic and “multireligious,” and attends synagogues as well as mosques and churches.

Rosenthal is also a trained mechanical engineer, a background he has drawn on in his bid for railroad commissioner: one campaign ad, quoting a conservative radio host, approvingly calls him “a ‘drill, baby, drill’ Democrat.” He has accused French of “overt racism,” while French has dubbed his opponent “Radical Rosenthal” and posted images, generated using artificial intelligence, of cross-shaped Texas oil wells to promote his blending of energy policy with Christian iconography.

Last year, Rosenthal cited his Judaism in response to legislation that would require the Ten Commandments to be displayed in every public school classroom. Rosenthal introduced an amendment that would have required a “Jewish” version of the commandments to be displayed alongside the “Protestant” one. The amendment failed, and the bill passed.

The post Why is Karl Rove supporting a progressive Jewish candidate in Texas? appeared first on The Forward.

(JTA) — California Gov. Gavin Newsom, a Democrat, has signed a law that will create protective spaces around religious institutions, after a pro-Palestinian protest at a Los Angeles synagogue last year turned violent.

The legislation, AB 2664, establishes 100-foot zones around the entrances to houses of worship. Within the zones, no one will be allowed to come within eight feet of a congregant without consent to distribute leaflets, hold a sign or engage in oral protests that aim “to harass, obstruct, threaten or intimidate the person.”

Failure to comply could result in fines of up to $1,000 and/or imprisonment of no more than six months, with second violations raising those bars to $5,000 and one year, per the law.

“Every Californian should be able to walk into a synagogue, church, mosque, or other house of worship without fear,” Newsom said in a statement.

“California is continuing to protect these organizations and the people they serve, and we’re strengthening that work from the front door to expanding security resources to community events statewide.”

Newsom’s status as a leading Democrat – and one considering a 2028 presidential run – makes his enthusiastic endorsement notable. Progressives in other locales, including New York City, have pushed back against similar laws, saying they endanger speech protections.

The bill’s signing came less than a year after a violent protest rattled the Wilshire Boulevard Temple in Los Angeles. At the December event, pro-Palestinian demonstrators blocked people from entering the synagogue and cut off parental access to the religious school. Protesters destroyed property and assaulted a security guard; one person was arrested for battery and another for vandalism.

At the time, Mayor Karen Bass denounced the incident, which took place at one of the largest synagogues in the city, as both “abhorrent” and antisemitic.

The following spring, California Assembly member Rebecca Bauer-Kahan, a Democrat, introduced the legislation, drafted by Jewish California, a lobby representing a number of the state’s Jewish groups.Newsom signed the bill on Friday inside Wilshire Boulevard Temple, joined by Jewish California leaders, synagogue clergy and members of the California Legislative Jewish Caucus and the broader community.

The legislation advanced despite vocal opposition. The Council on American-Islamic Relations slammed the bill for infringing upon free speech by creating “new criminal penalties that would put peaceful protesters and community advocates at risk.”

In a statement following Newsom’s signing ceremony, the council’s California CEO, Hussam Ayloush, argued that some sales of “illegally occupied land” are occurring “exclusively to Jewish Americans at events hosted by American synagogues.”

“If a house of worship in America chooses to serve as a platform for illegal land sales meant to normalize Palestinian displacement, Americans should be able to peacefully demonstrate against that immoral activity,” Ayloush said. The protest at the Wilshire Boulevard Temple did not target land sales, but a public safety and technology event organized by the Consulate General of Israel.

Jewish California stressed that the legislation not only gained support from dozens of Jewish groups but also from Muslim, Sikh, Christian and Hindu organizations. Ultimately, the bill passed with 34 out of 40 State Senate votes and 61 of 80 State Assembly votes.

“With the Governor’s signature, California is sending a clear message: everyone has the right to practice their faith safely and freely,” Bauer-Kahan said in a statement.

“Antisemitism is rising, and so is hostility towards other religious communities,” she added. “This law protects all worshippers of all faiths, and it ensures that faith can be practiced without fear.”

AB 2664 was one of six bills relevant to the Jewish community that passed in California’s state legislature last month. Newsom signed one of the other bills, AB 1853, on Monday afternoon — enacting a ban on including misleading or threatening information, like hate speech, in California voter guides.

The governor has until Sept. 30 to either sign or veto the other four pieces of legislation. Among the most contentious is SB 1387, a bill that would expand the definition of ethnicity “to include Jewish identity” on state agency data collection forms.

The post California Gov. Gavin Newsom signs bill to create safe spaces around synagogues appeared first on The Forward.

I first learned about Sir Frank Lowy at the Australian Museum in Sydney. Alongside an opalized plesiosaur skeleton and a 19th-century rug made of 75 platypus skins, there was a brief account of a Czechoslovakian Holocaust survivor who went on to become Australia’s richest man. It was a bizarre way to discover that the origins of the ubiquitous Westfield shopping malls lay in the Levi family from the tiny pre-War Jewish community of Fiľakovo on the Hungarian/Slovakian border.

In 2018, Sir Frank sold the company he ran with his three sons David, Peter and Steven and moved to Israel. At that point, Queen Elizabeth II had already made Lowy a Knight Bachelor and Australia’s Governor-General had appointed him Companion of the Order of Australia, Australia’s highest honor. Then, in 2024, as Lowy was receiving Israel’s highest civilian award, the Israeli Presidential Medal of Honor, a production marketing team was charged with making a short introductory film about him.

Over the next year, that film grew into To Be a Jew: Frank Lowy in his own words, a new feature-length documentary by Sarit Asnapi. A film about one of Australia’s most successful businessmen could easily have become an inventory of 50 years of deals. Asnapi, known for My Sister’s Keeper (2023) about the ultra-Orthodox community, though, frames the film using the attacks of Oct. 7 that deeply affected Lowy. Talking to me, he teared up at the thought of his young relatives who were brutally murdered at Kibbutz Be’eri, comparing them to his Slovakian cousins murdered in the Shoah. Asnapi shows what Pinchas “Frantisek” Levi — the boy who lost his father in the Holocaust — carried into Frank Lowy’s later life.

When I met him in his New York apartment overlooking Central Park, Lowy told me about an episode during the war that didn’t quite make it to the film. While his older siblings illegally worked around Budapest, he and his mother were relatively safe, though hungry, in the international ghetto. At midnight, his brother sometimes brought food to the building where they were living so that Frank, then a boy, could carry the parcel upstairs to the crowded apartment. His mother would open it, set it out on the table, and invite everyone to eat.

“I protested,” Lowy told me. There were perhaps 30 people in a flat intended for three or four, and he could see how little food they had. What, he wanted to know, would they eat tomorrow?

“Tomorrow, God will provide.” his mother told him.

Lowy, who is now a spry 95, about to turn 96, built and sold Westfield, the shopping center company whose name is familiar to millions of Americans; helped remake Australian soccer; and founded major synagogues and think tanks in both Australia and Israel. But when he describes the principle behind his philanthropy, he returns to that apartment: “When you have a little, give a little. When you have a lot, give a lot.”

We began, though, with soccer. I’m a Leeds United supporter and his son Peter is now a director of the club. Lowy’s connection to the game goes back much further: to Fiľakovo, where his father took him to watch the local team on Sundays. On a return visit years later, Lowy sought out the spot by the field where his father Hugo, who was murdered in Auschwitz, had sat.

Lowy, his mother and his siblings survived. After the war, he went to Palestine, fought in Israel’s War of Independence and, in 1952, reunited with his family in Australia. He told me that on his first weekend in Sydney, he was back at a soccer ground, watching Hakoah, the Jewish club founded by immigrants on the model of the legendary Austrian team, Hakoah Vienna.

Years after that first Sunday at Hakoah, Lowy — who was president of the club from 1969-to-1988 — was asked to help overhaul Australian football. The sport had devoted supporters, but it was a “Volksport” where clubs often carried the national identities and rivalries of immigrant communities. Lowy recalled matches at which hostility in the stands overwhelmed what was happening on the field. He wanted a league that those communities could enjoy together with the rest of Australia.

After being approached by the Australian premier to transform the sport in that country, Lowy led the national governing body from 2003 to 2015. Under his chairmanship, the A-League began in 2005 with Australian city clubs taking over from the Macedonian, Italian, Croatian, Jewish, and other clubs that had preceded them. As well as refashioning the league, Lowy helped the “Socceroos” national team take on a pan-Australian character. With “the kick that united a nation,” John Aloisi’s successful penalty against Uruguay meant that Australia qualified for the 2006 World Cup, its first appearance in 32 years. It was a moment that transformed soccer’s standing in Australia from a niche sport into a mainstream powerhouse.

Soccer isn’t just a hobby for Lowy. In the wake of December 2025’s Bondi Beach massacre, he wrote to the Royal Commission on Antisemitism, suggesting the same principles he used to change the profile of the sport as a potential solution to the blight of rising antisemitism in the country.

He does not pretend that running a league supplies a complete answer to hatred. He does believe that people can change the public life of a country by building institutions, speaking openly and refusing to retreat.

“In soccer, we didn’t try to take people’s ethnic identity away; we worked to stop the expression of ethnic conflict in public. Similarly, it is probably not possible to eradicate a dislike of Jews, but it is possible to help people understand why, in Australian society, the public outpouring of this aversion is not right.”

The persistence of soccer in Lowy’s life fascinated me. So did the contrast between Hakoah, a place where immigrants could keep something of their old lives, and the more broadly Australian game Lowy later helped build. He did not see a contradiction. His early businesses had already taught him what could happen when people from different places found a reason to gather.

After finding factory work on arrival in a burgeoning immigrant Australia, Lowy took a job making sandwiches. Soon, he and fellow immigrant John Saunders opened a delicatessen in the Western Sydney suburb of Blacktown. “The delicatessen was very successful because we were the only ones that were selling continental goods,” he told me, “And the Russians, the Slovaks, and all the people that came were hungry for that. Because in Australia, then, a sandwich meant white bread, a slice of cheese, and white bread on top of it.” So their customers included Europeans from all over, who missed the food they had known before emigrating. The partners bought “Australia’s second espresso machine” and Lowy remembers the Italian workers queuing for coffee on Sunday mornings

One afternoon, an acquaintance told Lowy he was building shops nearby. Lowy, as he avers is the case throughout his career, was “aware and alert.” How does what I observe affect me? What can I do about it? With whom can I take action? So he went back inside and asked Saunders a question that would recur throughout our conversation: Why don’t we do the same? They began with a few shops in Sydney. In 1959, they opened their first proper shopping center in Australia, and in 1977, their first shopping center in America – in Trumbull, Connecticut.

Lowy describes this habit of noticing an opening, then acting on it, as “active optimism.” It is an appealing phrase, though his version has less to do with expecting things to turn out well and more to do with moving into an area and being open to pivot with partners to change goals and maximize success. He spoke of watching for dangers as closely as opportunities, and of the financial crises the company had to survive. He also spoke with unusual ease about the help he received: Saunders, bankers who stood by the business, and colleagues he chose well. “Alone you cannot succeed,” he said.

Lowy is similarly unwilling to make his Jewishness less visible for the comfort of others. He told me that he objected when newspapers called him a “Jewish businessman” in stories where another man’s religion would never have appeared. He wanted to be known as a businessman on the same terms as anyone else. At the same time, wanted no one to mistake who he was.

“I carried the Jewish flag,” he told me. Does he still? “All the time.”

For all his talk of building things, Lowy’s memories of Jewish life begin with what his parents did for people who had little power. Before the war, traveling Jews looking for money far from home in Poland or Carpathia would often sleep for free in the synagogue. On Friday nights, the rabbi would see whether any heads of household would take them in for meals. Lowy remembers that his father would bring these travelers home, and even seat them at the head of the family table, even when other hosts might have put them in the kitchen.

He founded the Lowy Institute, an international policy organization to combat what he saw as Australian isolation. By providing world class, original “policy-relevant research from an Australian perspective,” it can bring Australia into international conversations. Sometimes, that means bringing world leaders to speak in Sydney, or by convening meetings across the world under an Australian umbrella.

In a similar vein, in 2006, he became chairman of Israel’s Institute for National Security Studies, one of the world’s leading security think tanks. He described his private support for Jewish causes, including Holocaust commemoration, Tel Aviv University and the Australian Jewish Communal Appeal (JCA) as something he learned at home, from those meals and from the coins his mother put into a Jewish National Fund box at their home on Fridays.

The documentary follows Lowy as he reflects on nearly a century of Jewish life and visits communities devastated by the Oct. 7 attacks. Its title sounds definitive, but, when we spoke, Lowy was still working out what he wanted people to take from the film. He hoped some might follow his example in giving to others. He hoped, too, that telling a Jewish story openly might do some good.

Near the end of our conversation, Lowy said he was “a Jew, body and soul, Israeli on top of it.” After his journeys to Budapest, Tel Aviv, Sydney, Trumbull and New York, it was a strikingly simple account of himself. I thought again of the boy carrying food up the stairs, anxious about tomorrow, and of his mother setting a place for everyone anyway.

His mother and his father had both shown young Pinchas how to take pride in sharing food with strangers but it took an adult Frank Lowy to bring diverse people together at a massive scale no matter what their differences: whether it was through food at a deli, politics at a think tank, crowds at soccer games, or shoppers at malls across the world.

To Be a Jew: Frank Lowy in his own words, will screen at the Marlene Meyerson JCC Manhattan on Sept. 29, and there will be a Q&A with Sir Frank Lowy afterwards.

The post From one Australian deli, he built a shopping empire. His parents taught him what to do with its riches. appeared first on The Forward.