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‘Stop Cop City’ activists infuse Jewish rituals into their protest against Atlanta’s planned police training center
(JTA) — As the sun set on Feb. 5, signaling the start of Tu Bishvat, a group of Jews carried shovels into the South River Forest southeast of downtown Atlanta.
In the day’s declining light, they planted saplings — seven paw paws, three fig and two peach — to honor the holiday, Judaism’s “new year of the trees.” They recited the Shehechiyanu prayer, and a rabbi led them in singing “Tzadik Katamar”: “The righteous shall flourish like the palm tree and grow like a cedar in Lebanon,” from Psalm 92.
The traditional holiday observance doubled as a protest against “Cop City,” the name that self-described “forest defenders” have given the city of Atlanta’s plan to build a $90 million, 85-acre police and fire training center on 300-plus acres that it owns just over the city line in DeKalb County, Georgia.
Two years into protests against the plans, a “week of action” that began over the weekend swelled the protesters’ ranks and brought an even greater police presence to the site of the planned training center. On Sunday night, a group of activists broke from a nonviolent protest, burning police vehicles and, police said, throwing rocks at officers. Dozens of people were arrested.
The violent turn throws into question other plans for the week, which include a Purim celebration on Monday night and a Shabbat service on Friday, the latest Jewish milestones in nearly two years of controversy and confrontation.
“They’re living Jewish values more legitimately, more sincerely than some of the biggest institutions,” said Rabbi Mike Rothbaum of Atlanta’s Reconstructionist Congregation Bet Haverim, of the Jewish protesters. Rothbaum attended the Tu Bishvat event and is scheduled to lead this week’s Shabbat service; he was speaking before the weekend’s events.
Comparing their worship to a mishkan, the portable sanctuary that the Israelites carried in the desert, Rothbaum said of the protesters, “They go to shul at ‘Cop City.’”
A sukkah constructed in October 2023 at the “Cop City” protest site in the Atlanta forest was destroyed in a police raid in December. (Courtesy of Jewish Bird Watcher Union)
Until about 200 years ago, South River Forest was home to the Muscogee (Creek) tribe, who called it Weelaunee — “brown water,” the name painted on protest banners strung between trees. White settlers drove out the Muscogee, and the land later became a slave plantation, a Civil War battlefield and a city prison farm. Portions have been a police firing range and used for explosives disposal, and it has also been the site of illegal dumping.
In April 2021, Atlanta announced plans to build a police training facility in the forest. Opponents immediately launched a protest. They oppose the redirection of natural resources to the police and want the forest maintained as a natural sanctuary.
After two years as a primarily local issue, national and international attention spiked on Jan. 18, when a protester camped in the woods was killed during what police called a “clearing operation.” The Georgia Bureau of Investigation said Manuel Paez Teran fired a handgun, wounding a Georgia State Police trooper, then was killed by return fire. An independent autopsy reported that the 26-year-old known as “Tortuguita” was struck by at least 13 rounds. An Atlanta police vehicle was torched in a subsequent protest downtown. Charges against more than a dozen of those arrested include violating the state’s domestic terrorism statute.
Across Intrenchment Creek from the city property is a DeKalb County park that bears the waterway’s name and is the subject of an associated protest. Much of the “Stop Cop City” activity has taken place in the 136-acre Intrenchment Creek Park. Legal challenges are pending against a land swap in which the county gave 40 acres to the now-former owner of a film studio, whose crews leveled trees and tore up a paved path until a judge issued a stop work order.
Conservation groups and community organizations in the surrounding majority Black neighborhoods fear that any development will degrade the tree canopy in Atlanta — which calls itself the “city in the forest” — and exacerbate flooding in low-lying areas.
The larger, decentralized protest movement includes a number of Jews, most in their 20s and 30s, who have made their stand by holding Jewish rituals in the forest, some under the banner of the “Jewish Bird Watcher Union.” They have held Shabbat services, performed the Tashlich ritual on Rosh Hashanah, slept in a sukkah during Sukkot, lit Hanukkah candles, and planted trees on Tu Bishvat. Prayer books were adapted for Shabbat and the High Holidays, with illustrations by the Jewish artist Ezra Rose.
Digital fliers advertising Jewish activities during a “week of action” by protesters opposing Atlanta’s planned police training facility. (Shared on social media)
Most of the Jewish events have been held in Intrenchment Creek Park. At the entrance, signs attached to a crumpled gazebo denounce the “film site” property owner. Improvised memorials and slabs of stone bearing spray-painted slogans dot the parking lot. To frustrate machinery drivers, some trails were blocked by barricades formed from downed trees, discarded tires and anything else handy.
The day before Tu Bishvat, three of the young Jewish activists met with a reporter, in an unheated community center a short drive from the forest. Expressing concern about their personal security, given the heated atmosphere around the issue, they spoke on condition that they be identified only by their first names and that their photographs not appear.
Cam, 24, is a labor union activist who grew up in Atlanta, attending Conservative and Reform congregations. Ray, 24, is a software engineer and Georgia Tech graduate, who grew up attending a Reform synagogue in Maryland. Ruth, in her late 20s, works in “regenerative landscaping” and moved to Atlanta with her Israeli family as a child. All said they feel disconnected from the mainstream Jewish community in Atlanta, religiously, politically and ideologically.
“Mainstream Judaism has completely lost touch with the radical history and radical tradition of the Jews,” Ruth said. “The things I like about Judaism, I want to live them in real life.”
She added, “When Sukkot came around and we built a sukkah in the forest, this is the closest I’ve been to relating to the story of traveling, of being in the desert and sleeping under the canopy.”
A makeshift memorial for environmental activist Manuel Paez Teran, who was allegedly killed by law enforcement during a raid to clear the construction site of a police training facility that activists have nicknamed “Cop City” near Atlanta, Georgia, as seen Feb. 6, 2023. (Cheney Orr/AFP via Getty Images)
Upwards of 50 to 60 Jews have participated in the forest-based worship, and hundreds of people have streamed into the “living room” section of the woods. “I don’t know if they’re all gathering for Shabbat or not but they all gathered around with us and listened to us sing prayers and light candles,” Ray said.
Rothbaum said he admired what he saw the Jewish protesters doing. “Whatever your opinion of the activists at ‘Cop City,’ you have to admire their commitment,” he said, adding, “These kids are reacting to the assimilation of a great heritage of meaning and justice.”
The sukkah survived for two months past the end of Sukkot, until a Dec. 13 police raid against encampments on both sides of Intrenchment Creek. A photo posted on Twitter showed the dismantled poles and torn sheets. The disappearance of the large menorah from the Intrenchment Creek parking lot after Hanukkah was blamed on crews working for the film site owner.
May the candle lights of Khanukah ignite the flames of rebellion. @defendATLforest pic.twitter.com/kdh6mqhMHY
— Fayer – פֿײַער (@FayerAtlanta) December 22, 2022
The morning after Tu Bishvat, city and county SWAT teams, along with state police, were deployed as construction equipment was brought into the police training center site. Two weeks later, at a Shabbat dinner in the forest following the Jan. 18 raid, attendees recited a Mourner’s Kaddish for Manuel Paez Teran and sang the traditional prayer “Oseh Shalom Bimromav” — “They who make peace in their high places.”
The Jewish activists see parallels between their activism on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and what’s happening in their local forest.
“Anti-Zionism was a major part of what brought us together in the first place, even before the forest movement,” said Cam, who said he saw the two issues as “related struggles.” Opposing Israel is “a big part of what leads us to feel alienated from most mainstream Jewish communities and the inability to be accepted there, and the necessity of forming our own.”
Ruth participated in activism on behalf of Palestinians while visiting family in Israel last summer. “I was hearing and seeing old ancient olive orchards that were destroyed, burned or cut by settlers in order to disempower Palestinians from living there,” she said. “It made me really feel, like, defend the forest everywhere.”
Atlanta officials say they do not plan to defile the forest and argue that the city’s police training facilities are inadequate. The planned complex would serve the police and fire departments, the 911 call center and K-9 units. It would include a shooting range, a “mock city” (with a gas station, motel, home and nightclub) and a “burn building.” The remainder of the land will be developed for recreational use, officials say.
“This is Atlanta and we know forests. This facility will not be built over a forest,” Atlanta Mayor Andre Dickens said at a January news conference. “The training center will sit on land that has long been cleared of hardwood trees through previous uses of this site decades ago.”
Activists accuse the city and county of a lack of transparency throughout the process. In a February interview with the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, Dickens conceded that the city could have done a better job selling the project. “We didn’t do that. And because we didn’t do that it started getting painted by anybody that had a brush,” he told the newspaper.
The mayor’s words have not deterred activists, whose goal is nothing less than cancellation of the project.
“They have destroyed a lot of the beauty already,” Cam said. “They have created this place of desolation and death and destruction, and that is in opposition to our task as Jews to create a world of beauty and joy and holiness. By coming to this place and planting trees, we are reclaiming it, making a place of peace and joy.”
Rabbi Mike Rothbaum, seen here in Massachusetts in 2017, is an Atlanta rabbi who has participated in “Cop City” protests. (Jonathan Wiggs/The Boston Globe via Getty Images)
The local Jewish protesters have lately gotten a boost from a progressive Jewish organization based in Philadelphia. The Shalom Center launched in the 1980s to oppose nuclear proliferation and now focused largely on climate justice.
“Our sacred text is called ‘The Tree of Life,’” wrote the center’s founder, Rabbi Arthur Waskow, and national organizer Rabbi Nate DeGroot in a Feb. 28 letter to Georgia Gov. Brian Kemp that noted Jewish law’s prohibition on uprooting trees. “We pray that the trees of the Weelaunee Forest remain trees that support the flourishing of sacred life for generations to come.”
Rothbaum said he was inspired by the young Jewish activists. “They are reminding us of the Jewish values that come to us through Torah, through the rabbinic writings, that are timeless,” he said. “They are reminding us of what we’re supposed to be. And we owe them a debt of gratitude.”
Ruth had a message for Atlanta’s Jewish congregations and communal organizations, most of which have not engaged publicly on the issue: “I would invite them to join us, to put their Jewish values into action,” she said. “Everything we’re doing here is really Jewish.”
—
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Aristotle, Jewish ethics and the vexing case of Graham Platner
In last Tuesday’s Democratic Senate primary in Maine, nearly three quarters of voters decided that Graham Platner — Iraq War veteran, oysterman, Reddit misogynist and SS tattoo bearer — was their best hope to defeat the Republican incumbent, Susan Collins, come November. While the result was wildly cheered by his supporters, other Democrats and independents were left deeply uneasy.
There are good reasons, philosophical no less than political, for this disquiet. For some Democrats, the winning approach to the election is not necessarily one that leads to victory, but instead one that leads from virtue.
Much attention has been given to the political issues raised by Platner’s candidacy. His embrace of economic populism and excoriation of our country’s oligarchy, his denunciation of forever wars and defense of the common man were and remain compelling stances. That Platner speaks his own mind, and does so simply but rarely simplistically, rather than from a script bolted together by handlers, is clearly a plus as well.
But the matter of his character also raises a serious ethical issue not just for Platner, but also for those who voted for him this spring and plan to do so again this fall. It is less a matter of achieving a good result, than of affirming the good itself.
Moral philosophy comes in three flavors: consequentialism, deontology, and virtue ethics. For reasons of space, let’s focus on the first and last. As the name suggests, consequentialism focuses not on the means but instead on the ends. But this does not mean, as some think, that any end can justify any means. Instead, philosophical consequentialists argue that acts must be judged by a simple measure: seeking the greatest good at the least moral cost.
For a hypothetical example, say I have a student who is floundering in one of my classes. They are doing their best, but for various reasons their best will probably not help them avoid a failing grade. Afraid to disappoint or depress the student, I allow them to continue in the class. Consequently, the student sinks rather than swims by semester’s end. Or, instead, I can sit down with the student earlier in the semester and suggest that they withdraw today and try again a later day when they are better prepared. The result is the least cruel and most good: some suffering in the short term rather than greater suffering in the long run.
Yet, consequentialism can be complicated. Consider the election of John Fetterman to the Senate in 2022. Faced by the prospect of voting for the Republican candidate, Democrats and independents gave Fetterman the winning margin despite a stroke he suffered during the campaign, one that raised serious questions about his capacity to hold the office. For reasons that are hard to parse, Fetterman has since broken with his fellow Democrats on several vital issues.
Rather than realizing the greater good, some Pennsylvania voters may now realize their reasoning was misplaced.
This brings us to virtue ethics, which is now enjoying a second wind among moral philosophers. Inspired by Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics, virtue ethicists are less concerned with actions than they are with character. As the philosopher Todd May writes in his book The Decent Life, the key question for consequentialists (and deontologists) is “How should I act?” But for those who promote virtue ethics, the question is “How should I live?”
By this, they mean what Aristotle seems to have meant: how can we live a happy or flourishing life? The answer is by living that life in accord with virtue.
Simply put, virtues are those traits of character — think bravery and constancy, sagacity and generosity—crucial to human flourishing. And to flourish as humans requires a deep disposition to see and feel, choose and respond to the world and others in ways that align with those virtues. In the words of the late Alasdair MacIntyre, the philosopher who reintroduced virtue ethics to modern readers, “The exercise of the virtues is itself a crucial component of the good life for man.”
Inevitably, just as with the other ethical theories, there are problems with virtue ethics. But there are also advantages, principally that it seeks to build character rather than build a calculus of the highest good. This brings us back to Graham Platner. What is at issue with his campaign is not just the character of the candidate, but the character of the nation we wish to realize. The unavoidable question is not whether the ends justifies the means, but whether the means justifies the end—in this case, a nation dedicated not to winning a Senate majority, but to one dedicated to reversing the waning of virtue. Even if this means giving Susan Collins 6 more years.
Modern Jewish thinkers find ties between pagan and Jewish ethics. Yonatan Brafman, who teaches at the Jewish Theological Seminary, points to fascinating parallels between the writings of Aristotle and the medieval philosopher Moses Maimonides. The latter, Brafman suggests, sought various ways to encourage the practice of generosity. “Fulfilling the commandment of matanot le-’evyonim (gifts to the poor) and even prioritizing it over other commandments both expresses and fosters the virtue of generosity,” Brafman writes. “Moreover, in Maimonides’ view, this virtue is central to human flourishing. Generosity enables an individual to achieve divine joy.”
Of course, the exercise of generosity should apply to Platner, a man who insists that he has changed. Come November, we will learn whether this is true for our nation. As for Platner, who insists he has changed, it may take much longer for all of us to know.
The post Aristotle, Jewish ethics and the vexing case of Graham Platner appeared first on The Forward.
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What does it say that Gwyneth Paltrow is advertising luxury Israeli real estate?
What does Gwyneth Paltrow have to do with a new luxury apartment building in Tel Aviv suburb Herzliya?
Not much, it seems, judging from a new ad that dropped this week. It features Paltrow going on a morning jog in the city — New York City, that is. She wakes up, voices some pat complaints about why “mornings have to be so early” and how her “coffee needs a coffee,” before she heads to Central Park. She comes home, showers, then asks her driver to take her to 51 Park.
Her driver asks if she means New York. “Herzliya, Israel,” she clarifies, smiling into the camera, as though the black SUV can drive across the ocean.
The ad makes so little sense that my first instinct was to think that it must be some sort of AI rendition of Paltrow. But a LinkedIn post about the project, from Gabi Attal, the CEO of the ad agency Why Worry, which made it, says that they did indeed shoot the ad in real life, in New York City, and that Paltrow is the face of the ad campaign behind a luxury apartment building called 51Park in Herzliya.
51Park is the name — though seemingly not the address — of an enormous new apartment complex that does not appear to exist yet; the website for the building is written in future tense. In renderings, two 51-story glossy towers, with — depending on which part of the website you read — either 636 or 733 apartments total, shine over a park. The neighborhood, it promises, is about to become the beating heart of Herzliya, bounded by highways, the light rail and Herzliya Park.
Paltrow, who is Jewish, has hawked a lot of weird products in her time — vagina-scented candles, anyone? And in some ways, the luxury building makes sense as a product for the actress, who has often flaunted her wealthy lifestyle. But everything else about the 51Park campaign places it back into Paltrow’s stranger offerings.
First off, of course, is the simple setting of the ad, which is nowhere near the apartment building Paltrow is lending her face to.
“To bring this architectural masterpiece to the Israeli audience, we needed a figure who effortlessly embodies international elegance, a premium lifestyle and uncompromising quality,” Attal wrote in the LinkedIn post about the ad.
No one behind the ad responded to my questions about how Paltrow was selected except the director’s agent, Tal Nathan, who said that he couldn’t comment beyond saying the actress “looks absolutely fantastic.” Still, Paltrow certainly embodies a certain kind of “premium lifestyle” — her lifestyle brand, Goop (tagline: “beauty as wellness”), sells such wealth signifiers as a $425 black tank top and a $55 “sex oil,” and also partners with other luxury brands to market expensive jewelry, clothing, and wellness accessories via Paltrow’s own website as “Gwyneth’s picks.” (These include a $225 “eyelift bioremodeling peptide matrix” and a cream for “mindfulness and intuition.”)
The actress has made her name, at least since her Oscar win in 1999, by defining an ideal of minimalist, luxurious perfection — one with little care for qualities like accessibility, approachability or reality. (She had to pay a fine after Goop sold bespoke jade eggs promising questionable health benefits for one’s “yoni.”) In fact, part of her allure is her lack of those values. Her aesthetic seeks to soar above plebian concerns like pragmatism or cost. Who cares if that $491 pewter cocktail strainer requires regular polishing to maintain its silver sheen? It’s covetable. Similarly, who cares where your luxury building is, the 51Park ad seems to say; the important part is the luxury.
Still, it seems odd to market the building to Israelis via an ad filmed in New York City, in English. Sure, New York might signify wealth and luxury in the international market. But the ad doesn’t highlight the amenities 51Park actually offers, such as proximity to Herzliya Park; it shows Paltrow in a luxury apartment in New York with convenient access to a different, and more famous, park: Central Park.
Instead, it feels as though the ad is directed at Americans, selling the idea that New York City and Herzliya are the same. That’s patently absurd though — even if we were to equate Tel Aviv and NYC, which are really not very similar outside of being their respective countries’ most cosmopolitan cities, Herzliya is neither; it’s a separate, much smaller city. Which means Herzliya is, at best, Hoboken. Perhaps that’s why Paltrow didn’t even bother flying to Israel to film the ad.
Marketing an Israeli home to Americans, however, is a controversial proposition. Over the past couple of years, Israeli companies selling homes and land to Jewish Americans, often at fairs held in synagogues, have been a target for protests. Sure, Herzliya is not in the West Bank. But for an actor to wade into obvious controversy like this, especially when she has a new major project coming up — starring as Belle Burden in an adaptation of the heiress’ best-selling memoir Strangers — is a confusing choice.
The ad was reposted by viral celebrity gossip account PopBase, leading to thousands of retweets and comments accusing her of supporting, as many commenters put it, “gwynocide.” Others said it was tone deaf to market luxury apartment buildings only a few hundred miles from razed apartments in Gaza, and compared her to the Nazi wife who enjoys her garden outside Auschwitz in the Oscar-winning film The Zone of Interest.
Yet, in the ad, Paltrow seems blissfully unaware of all that, or at least doesn’t betray the slightest political statement. It’s not the first time Paltrow has been impressively out of step with public opinion — for example, saying that being a mother while working on movie sets is harder than being a “regular” working mother who is not extremely wealthy and famous, or that she would rather die than let her child eat a “Cup-a-Soup” and would rather do crack than eat cheese out of a tin.
Paltrow’s serene smile in the ad implies she can just float above the political realities tied to Israel without touching them. The idea that one can move to Israel and live a life indistinguishable from the one you once had on Park Ave in NYC, is fundamentally a political statement, of course; not everyone has that freedom of movement, whether due to financial or political realities. But Paltrow has not responded to criticism online or to journalists reaching out to ask what she meant to say with the ad. Though she voiced support for the hostages after Oct. 7, she hasn’t implied that her ad for 51Park is any kind of statement. In fact, she’s carefully avoided making one.
Instead, Paltrow — as is so often the case with the actress famed for her snobbery — has demonstrated that she is not as interested in Israel, Gaza, the war, or Judaism as she is in the disembodied ideal of luxury. As she once said, she “can’t possibly pretend to be someone who makes $25,000 a year.” The rest isn’t important; she can ignore it.
The post What does it say that Gwyneth Paltrow is advertising luxury Israeli real estate? appeared first on The Forward.
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Abdul El-Sayed is courting Jewish voters — without moderating his views on Israel
Michigan senate candidate Abdul El-Sayed isn’t toning down his rhetoric to win over Jewish voters.
He’s called Israel’s action in Gaza a genocide, wants to withdraw both offensive and defensive military aid to Israel, called the Israeli government “evil” like Hamas, has rebuffed questions about whether Israel has the right to exist as a Jewish state, and in an interview with the Forward, doubled down on his decision to campaign with controversial Twitch streamer Hasan Piker and his response to the attack on a Michigan syangogue in March: “Hurt people hurt people.”
Yet at a progressive synagogue and events hosted by Michigan’s Jewish Democratic caucus, El-Sayed, who is Muslim, is finding Jewish voters willing to hear him out — and a constituency of Jews who support his candidacy even when they disagree with him on Israel.
It’s a playbook New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani employed to deflect allegations of antisemitism: Don’t soften on Israel or what rhetoric crosses a line, but speak with the Jewish press, meet with Jewish organizations and demonstrate a cultural fluency with Judaism beyond the politics of the Middle East.
The race, which could determine which party controls the Senate, is also a test of Israel politics in a swing state home to the nation’s highest concentration of Arab Americans.
The three leading candidates occupy distinct positions on the issue: El-Sayed has made criticism of Israel and AIPAC a central plank of his campaign. On the other end of the spectrum, Rep. Haley Stevens describes herself as “proud pro-Israel Democrat” and is backed by AIPAC. And in the middle, state Sen. Mallory McMorrow has won the endorsement of J Street, the liberal Zionist advocacy group that supports a two-state solution.
El-Sayed, who currently leads in the polls, maintains his candor has helped him build a Jewish coalition of his own.
“There’s going to be things that they disagree with, but at least they know I have the courage to say where I stand,” El-Sayed told the Forward. “I say it everywhere to everyone, and my positions are based in principle, not just political calculus.”
Jews for Abdul
While a number of Jewish organizations have expressed alarm at El-Sayed’s campaign, one synagogue welcomed him inside.
Congregation T’chiyah, a Reconstructionist synagogue outside Detroit that describes itself as progressive, hosted El-Sayed for a Passover Seder in April. Many of its congregants support El-Sayed’s campaign and are volunteering with a group dubbed “Jews for Abdul.”
One of those volunteers is Lex Eisenberg, a T’chiyah congregant who also organizes with the anti-Zionist group Jewish Voice for Peace.
“As progressive Jews, we’re all too familiar with the way that people who speak out for Palestinian freedom are smeared and attacked the way some are smearing Abdul right now,” Eisenberg said. “So the idea is that we want to be outwardly and publicly Jewish and supporting Abdul.”
El-Sayed’s campaign has also attracted some prominent progressive Jewish voices. Former Michigan congressman Andy Levin — who previously served as president of Congregation T’chiyah — endorsed El-Sayed alongside Bernie Sanders, the progressive Jewish senator from Vermont. (El-Sayed has called Sanders his “favorite Jewish uncle.”)

Levin, who identifies as Zionist, sees echoes of his own political battles in El-Sayed’s campaign. He lost his House election against Stevens in 2022 after AIPAC poured millions into defeating him, displeased with his support for a bill that backed a two-state solution and restricted use of U.S. taxpayer funds to expand settlements in the occupied West Bank.
“So many young Jewish people are active in Abdul’s campaign,” Levin told the Forward. “And it’s their Judaism that leads them to that position, because their Judaism teaches them that the way to fight antisemitism isn’t to circle the wagons and shut off the world, but to build alliances with other oppressed people.”
Welcoming leftist politicians is not unusual for Congregation T’chiyah: Its rabbi, Alana Alpert, was the founding director of the progressive political advocacy group Detroit Jews for Justice, and she has been honored by Rashida Tlaib, the Palestinian-American Michigan congresswoman censured by the House over her comments about Israel. (Alpert did not respond to the Forward’s request for an interview.)
“T’chiyah, of course, is a congregation that is focused on uplifting social justice around the idea of tikkun olam,” El-Sayed said.
Yet El-Sayed’s coalition also extends to those with complicated relationships to the Jewish state.
Roslyn Abt Schindler, a retired professor who taught Holocaust studies at Wayne State University, has been a member of Congregation T’chiyah for 48 of the synagogue’s 49 years. The daughter of Holocaust survivors, Schindler plans to vote for El-Sayed and agrees with his characterization of Israel’s actions in Gaza as genocide.
But she also supports a two-state solution — a position El-Sayed has not endorsed, and one she wishes he would.
Schindler said the issues that matter most to her are affordability, campaign finance reform, environmental protection and Medicare for All. El-Sayed’s visit to her synagogue and Levin’s endorsement of him, she said, sealed the deal.
“His outreach to Jewish voters has been genuine and thoughtful,” Schindler said.
Decky Alexander, chair of the Michigan Democratic Jewish Caucus — which endorsed Stevens last week — agreed that El-Sayed has engaged Michigan’s Jewish community. He participated in a candidate forum co-hosted by the Jewish caucus, and he attended the organization’s “Summer Simcha,” the caucus’ annual fundraiser that draws Jewish leaders from across the political spectrum.
Alexander said she doesn’t personally support El-Sayed, but she believes the Jewish caucus could work with him and trusts that he takes antisemitism seriously. After the recent attack on Temple Israel, El-Sayed was the first politician to text her with a message of support.
“He’s present and showing up,” Alexander said. “And not just showing up to really left-leaning communities that are Jewish, but across the board.”
‘Hurt people hurt people’
Other Jews say that outreach has done little to quell concerns about El-Sayed.
“When a public figure is struggling to affirm Israel’s right to exist, many Jews are going to see that as a challenge to Jewish self-determination, not simply a policy disagreement,” said Amy Sapeika, community director of American Jewish Committee Detroit.
The other candidates, meanwhile, have for the most part only hinted at their differences with El-Sayed when it comes to Israel and antisemitism — a polite tenor Alexander partly chalked up to a culture of “Midwest nice.”
Stevens, seen as the Democratic establishment pick, has touted her record of speaking up against antisemitism “in all its forms” and described herself as a lawmaker who is “leading on combating antisemitism in a bipartisan way.”
McMorrow has walked a middle ground, saying that Israel’s military offensive in Gaza meets the critera for genocide while also dismissing definitional debates as semantic. She has also said the Democratic Party has an antisemitism problem, citing an antisemitic slur yelled at her Jewish husband during this year’s Democratic Party convention in Detroit.
The National Jewish Democratic Council of America issued a rare dual endorsement of Stevens and McMorrow — explicitly drawing contrast with El-Sayed.
“There are two candidates who stand with our community on issues of importance to Jewish voters, and there is one who does not,” CEO Halie Soifer said in a statement.
Those tensions came to a head after a man rammed a truck into Temple Israel in West Bloomfield in March with the stated intent of killing as many people as possible. El-Sayed issued a four-minute video condemning the attack, while also noting that the perpetrator had four family members killed in an Israeli airstrike in Lebanon, including two children.
“Hurt people hurt people,” he said.
The response drew a public rebuke from Temple Israel’s Rabbi Jen Lader, who wrote in a Free Press op-ed that El-Sayed was “suggesting that violence against a synagogue in suburban Detroit could be understood through the lens of Israeli actions,” which she deemed “offensive.”
El-Sayed rejected the premise that linking the two events amounted to excusing violence.
“It’s unserious when you want to decontextualize violence, and then say you want to stand against violence,” he told the Forward. “I will never be the kind of policymaker who doesn’t want to understand why things happened if I’m serious about stopping them from happening.”
About a month after that attack, El-Sayed hosted a campaign event with Hasan Piker — a Twitch streamer often called the “Joe Rogan of the left” who has likened liberal Zionists to “liberal Nazis,” said he doesn’t have an issue with Hezbollah, and also said that “Hamas is 1,000 times better” than Israel, among a slew of other controversial statements.

The event drew condemnation from Michigan State Hillel and the Anti-Defamation League, which called the decision to campaign with Piker “absolutely shocking.”
It also drew the most direct rebukes to date from both opposing campaigns. Stevens told Jewish Insider Piker is “the exact opposite of someone I’d be campaigning with,” and McMorrow critiqued El-Sayed for hosting the event “at a moment when there is clearly a lot of pain and trauma across our state.”
“How do you bring everybody together, especially when there are difficult conversations, where there aren’t easy answers? You don’t fan the flames and stoke division just to get attention,” McMorrow said.
El-Sayed told the Forward that he would not defend Piker’s most extreme remarks but argued that politicians should engage with a broad range of people, adding that he wanted to “reach out to the 3 million people who follow him, many of whom feel locked out of our politics.”
More broadly, El-Sayed argues that his critics conflate the Israeli government with the Jewish people. He often points to his experience as a Muslim in helping him understand the experience of a religious minority, framing antisemitism and Islamophobia as related threats.
“I know intimately what it’s like to be discriminated against for how I pray, and I don’t want anybody to experience that, be it because they are Jewish or because they are Muslim, or because they don’t pray at all,” he said.
It’s difficult to gauge how El-Sayed’s messaging is landing with Jewish voters; unlike in New York City, Michigan races do not have polling by religious affiliation. In any case, he may not need Jews’ support to take office: Jewish voters make up just 1.4% percent of the electorate in the state.
Still, El-Sayed said he is looking to connect.
“I’m open to engage with any and all communities,” El-Sayed said. “As I’ve always said, if you invite me, I’m going to come.”
The post Abdul El-Sayed is courting Jewish voters — without moderating his views on Israel appeared first on The Forward.



