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Wild pitch: How an Israeli kibbutznik became a Cincinnati Reds pitching coach
KIBBUTZ GEZER, Israel (JTA) — Bill James, the influential baseball writer, historian and statistician, once described the great Yankee first baseman Don Mattingly in only four words: “100% ballplayer, 0% bulls—.”
The same can be said of Alon Leichman, by all accounts the first athlete born and raised in Israel to make it to the major leagues, having just been named assistant pitching coach of the Cincinnati Reds.
Under manager David Bell, Leichman will help instruct the team’s pitchers — including Chase Anderson, Luis Cessa, Fernando Cruz, Alexis Díaz and Hunter Greene — on mechanics, pitch selection, preparation, concentration and execution.
His journey has been unlikely, verging on preposterous: How could someone from Israel, where baseball is barely an afterthought, step out of the wheat fields of a kibbutz to the highest level of baseball in the world?
The 33-year-old Leichman is the product of Kibbutz Gezer, the youngest child born to two idealists who grew up in Zionist youth groups and helped found this kibbutz in central Israel in the 1970s together with other Anglo — that is, English-speaking — Zionists.
But David, Alon’s father, couldn’t leave it all behind in Queens, New York. He was a baseball fan, a big baseball fan — “I always knew that if, God forbid, there’s a fire in my house, I know where my baseball glove is” — and one day, he and his fellow kibbutz residents had an idea: Why don’t we cut off a slice of the wheat crop and construct a regulation-sized field in the southwest corner of the kibbutz, where we can all go play when we get off work?
That was 1983, and there wasn’t a single baseball or softball field in all of Israel So David, who was in charge of construction on the kibbutz (Alon’s mother, Miri, is the kibbutz rabbi), built his field of dreams, just 450 yards from his front door and in the shadow of the 4,000-year-old archaeological site that gives Gezer its name.
And that’s where Alon Leichman grew up, first brought to the field by his father for the 1989 Maccabiah Games, five weeks after Alon was born on May 29.
“I never related to that field as the place my dad built,” Leichman said. “It was a field that was on the kibbutz. Growing up, everyone around me played — my older brother played, and all my friends, a little older than me, played.
David Leichman, left, stands behind the backstop at the baseball field he helped build at Kibbutz Gezer in Israel, where his son Alon, right, learned the game that has brought him to the major leagues. (Elli Wohlgelernter)
“I remember — I was 4, in gan [pre-kindergarten], and I would walk to the baseball field and practice. I vividly remember being in the gan and going to practice. But baseball on the kibbutz is just something that I grew into. Everyone did it; I was not special, just another kid who played. I happened to love it a lot.”
So he played and played and got better and better. By age 10, he was on the team representing Israel at a tournament in the Netherlands. But baseball in Israel back then was in its infancy, and there was not enough money to pay for the team to travel. So Leichman had to work extra hours to get the kibbutz to fly him over.
Not that he wasn’t used to working — like all kibbutz members, he was already contributing by third grade. But now he had to put in extra hours, picking olives or milking cows, to make the extra money.
“I liked milking cows,” he recalled. “Sometimes it’s hard work, but I got more of a kick out of it than hitting an olive tree” to shake loose the olives.
Leichman remembers well that tournament in Holland, the first time he wore the Israeli uniform representing his country abroad.
“It was really cool,” he recalled. “A sense of pride. That’s the first time I think I felt like: ‘You’re not just Alon, you’re not just representing the kibbutz anymore — you’re representing a whole country.’
“I knew back then that Israel was not on the best terms [with] the world. So it was something that I was aware of: that part of our job of playing baseball is also making sure that these guys get to know Israelis other than what they hear on the news and show them that, you know, we’re good people.”
The 5’-8” right-hander kept playing, kept improving and kept representing Israel at tournaments. He played in the one-season Israel Baseball League in 2007 as the second-youngest player, served in the Israeli army from 2007 to 2010, and then headed to the states to play college ball at two schools, Cypress College and the University of California, San Diego.
In his first appearance at Cypress, his elbow blew out, and he needed what’s known as “Tommy John surgery” to repair a torn ulnar ligament inside the elbow. Then he got hurt again and had a second Tommy John surgery. But when he got hurt a third time, and the doctor said he needed to go under the knife yet again, Leichman knew that his hopes for a professional playing career were over.
But not before proving to himself that he had what it takes.
“I know I was good in Israel. I knew that. But I had no idea how I would fare coming to the States. I thought I could fare [well] there, but I really never knew because I had never faced those types of hitters. And then, in my first game, I did really well for two and a third innings, four strikeouts. No one got on. It was 1-2-3, 1-2-3, and then I got the first guy out in the ninth. And on a one-two fastball, my elbow popped. So it was like, ‘Okay, I can do this here.’”
His love for the game never left him, and Leichman grew into an insightful and intuitive coach. His expertise and aptitude were self-evident.
Various jerseys from Alon Leichman’s baseball career are displayed on the wall of his family’s home at Kibbutz Gezer, Israel. (Elli Wohlgelernter)
“Alon will be a big-league coach one day,” pitcher and teammate Alex Katz said three years ago. “It’s hard to get a coaching job in affiliate ball without professional experience, let alone non-affiliated experience. But he’s just one of the most intelligent baseball minds I’ve ever been around. And he’s young.”
Leichman said his strength is “helping guys get better. Communicating with them. Being able to relate to them. Getting on their level. Simplifying it for them. And being creative and finding ways to throw more strikes.”
Despite the surgeries, Leichman could still pitch, if he did it sparingly. He joined Israel’s World Baseball Classic teams of 2012, 2016 and 2017 as a player or coach; pitched for the European Baseball Championship team in 2019; threw in the Olympic qualifying tournaments in 2019; and hurled one perfect inning against Team USA at the Olympics in 2021 in Tokyo. Along the way, he also earned a black belt in jujitsu.
But coaching was his future, and after being given a chance in 2017 to instruct in the Seattle Mariners farm system, Leichman kept moving up, from Single A to Double AA to Triple AAA, before being grabbed by the Reds to join their major league staff this season.
His father is overwhelmed. “It’s unbelievable,” David Leichman said. “I’m still shaking and crying to myself about how wonderful this has been. It’s really amazing.”
Alon is no less shell-shocked, having agreed to sign a contract with the Reds on the same day the New York Mets asked to interview him about a potential job.
“It’s not really sinking in yet, to be honest,” he said while in Israel recently to visit his family on Gezer. “But it’s definitely a dream come true, something I’ve been dreaming about since I’m a little kid. Obviously, I wanted to be there as a player, but once I got hurt and realized that playing was not an option anymore, I started pursuing coaching. I wanted to do it at the highest level. The dream remained; it just took a different route. But it’s still as exciting.”
Leichman is still undecided on whether to join Team Israel’s coaching staff in Florida for the WBC in March before heading back to Goodyear, Arizona, to rejoin the Reds in spring training. But this product of the wheat fields of Gezer won’t ever forget from where he’s come: His uniform numeral, 29, is a constant reminder. It’s his laundry tag number at the kibbutz.
—
The post Wild pitch: How an Israeli kibbutznik became a Cincinnati Reds pitching coach appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Netanyahu alleges that Israeli soldiers died because Biden-era arms ’embargo’ meant they ‘didn’t have enough ammunition’
(JTA) — Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu alleged in comments on Tuesday that Israeli soldiers died during the war in Gaza because of a Biden-era “embargo” on weaponry.
“We paid a very heavy price in the war,” Netanyahu said during an appearance in Jerusalem. “Part of it is that at a certain point, we simply didn’t have enough ammunition, and people fell, heroes fell. Part of the loss of ammunition was also a result of the embargo.”
The Biden administration held back some heavy arms from Israel in mid-2024 in an effort to pressure Netanyahu not to enter the southern Gaza city of Rafah. It pledged to continue supplying other weapons.
Both Netanyahu and President Donald Trump, who resumed sending the heavy weapons in March 2025, have said the Biden-era restrictions amounted to an “embargo” and have charged that the Biden administration held back more arms than it said.
Biden administration officials immediately decried the comments, saying that Netanyahu was lying and emphasizing Biden’s personal and political support for Israel.
“Netanyahu is both not telling the truth and ungrateful to a president that literally saved Israel at its most vulnerable moment,” Amos Hochstein, whom Biden appointed as a Middle East envoy during the Gaza war, told Axios, in one example. He reiterated the point on X, where he noted that the Biden administration sent $20 billion in military aid to Israel and also participated twice in deflecting Iranian missile attacks.
The comments come at a delicate time for Netanyahu. The retrieval earlier this week of Ran Gvili, the last Israeli hostage in Gaza, adds pressure for him to support a new phase in the Gaza ceasefire which has the potential to become a wedge between him and Trump.
At the same time, the prime minister is facing potential political turmoil at home, with elections required before the end of the year and a budget process getting underway Wednesday that could trigger earlier elections if lawmakers cannot reach a deal over haredi Orthodox army enlistment.
The comments also come as Netanyahu has recently said he wants to “taper” U.S. military aid to zero over the next decade and instead position Israel to fund its own defense. A top Republican lawmaker, Sen. Lindsey Graham, said he thought the shift should come sooner.
The post Netanyahu alleges that Israeli soldiers died because Biden-era arms ’embargo’ meant they ‘didn’t have enough ammunition’ appeared first on The Forward.
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Looking back on my 30 years as a Yiddish translator
איך בין געווען אַ מאָדערנער חסיד אַ בעל־תּשובֿה, וועלכער פֿילט זיך היימיש סײַ צווישן די חסידים, סײַ צווישן די וועלטלעכע ייִדישיסטן.
נישט לאַנג צוריק האָב איך געבלעטערט מײַן עלטסטע אָפּגעהיטע העפֿט מיט לידער אויף ייִדיש, אָנגעשריבן אין 1995 – 1996. האָב איך זיך פֿאַרטראַכט, אַז עס באַקומט זיך אַ יוביליי פֿון מײַן ייִדיש־שאַפֿן און אַן אײַנפֿאַל אַ ביסל אָנצושרײַבן וועגן דעם.
עפּעס האָב איך געגראַמט אויף ייִדיש נאָך פֿריִער, אָבער פֿון יענע „אורשאַפֿונגען‟ מײַנע איז נישט געבליבן קיין שפּור. אין יענער אַלטער העפֿט, וואָס האָט דורכגעמאַכט אַ לאַנגן וועג קיין אַמעריקע און מיט יאָרן שפּעטער צוריק קיין רוסלאַנד, געפֿינען זיך אויך דרײַ מײַנע איבערזעצונגען פֿון מײַן באַליבטן רוסישן דיכטער אָסיפּ מאַנדעלשטאַם.
אין 2002 זענען יענע איבערזעצונגען פּובליקירט געוואָרן אינעם אינטערנעץ־זשורנאַל „דער באַוועבטער ייִד‟, נאָר אין גאָר אַנדערע ווערסיעס. די היסטאָרישע העפֿט איז דעמאָלט געווען אין פּעטערבורג, און איך האָב געוווינט אין קווינס. אויף אויסווייניק האָב איך מײַנע טעקסטן נישט געדענקט און ממילא געמוזט זיי איבערשרײַבן. דער נײַערער נוסח האָט זיך באַקומען לאַוו־דווקא בעסער, פּשוט אַנדערש. פֿאַרגלײַכט:
געהיים איז שאָרכען אינעם וואַלד:
אַ פּרי פֿאַלט אַראָפּ אַנטשוויגן
אין אייביק הילכן פֿונעם ניגון,
וואָס וועלדער־שווײַגעניש אַנטהאַלט.
(1995-1996)
אַ טויבער, אַ געהיטער קלאַנג:
אַ פּרי איז אַראָפּגעפֿאַלן
אינמיטן טיף און אייביק שאַלן
אין שטילקייט פֿונעם וואַלד־געזאַנג.
(2002)
אינעם זעלבן יאָר, ווען אָט די שורות זענען דערשינען אינעם „באַוועבטן ייִד‟, האָב איך אָנגעהויבן אַרבעטן ווי אַ נײַעס־איבערזעצער אינעם פֿאָרווערטס. צוערשט האָב איך געאַרבעט צוויי טעג אַ וואָך; ביסלעכווײַז, מיט עטלעכע יאָר שפּעטער, האָב איך אָנגעהויבן אַרבעטן אין דער רעדאַקציע די גאַנצע וואָך. פֿאַרן באַקומען די שטעלע, זײַענדיק אַ יונגער ענטוזיאַסטישער יאַט, האָב איך געפֿירט ייִדיש־לימודים פֿרײַ פֿון אָפּצאָל אויף דער אינטערנעץ און פֿאַרשיידענע דיסקוסיעס אַרום דער ייִדישער שפּראַך. מײַן מיטבאַטייליקטער אין דעם איז געווען אַריה לאָנדאָן ז״ל (1946 – 2017) – דער זשורנאַליסט פֿון די ייִדיש־אוידיציעס אויף דער אינטערנאַציאָנאַלער ישׂראלדיקער ראַדיאָ „קול ישׂראל‟. מיר האָבן אָפֿט אַרומגערעדט מאַנדעלשטאַמס לידער.
ווי אַזוי האָב איך געפֿונען די אַרבעט אינעם פֿאָרווערטס? ערגעץ אין די ייִדישיסטישע אינטערנעץ־פֿאָרומס האָט זיך פֿאַרשפּרייט אַ קלאַנג, אַז דער פֿאָרווערטס זוכט אַ מיטאַרבעטער. האָב איך זיך פֿאַרבונדן מיט דער צײַטונג און זיך געיאַוועט אינעם ביוראָ. באַלד איז צו מיר צוגעקומען אַ סימפּאַטישע רויטהאָטיקע פֿרוי, וועלכע האָט זיך פֿאָרגעשטעלט: „איך בין שׂרה־רחל שעכטער‟. מיט אַזאַ באַשטעטיקנדיקן טאָן האָט זי זיך באַגריסט, אַז איך האָב פֿאַרשטאַנען אַז איך מוז זיך מאַכן, אַז איך ווייס, ווער זי איז!
דעם אמת געזאָגט, האָב איך קיין השׂגה נישט געהאַט. אין יענע יאָרן, צו וועלכע עס געהערט מײַן אַלטע לידער־העפֿט, האָב איך געטראָפֿן אַ קופּע נומערן פֿונעם פֿאָרווערטס אין דער פּעטערבורגער שיל, איבערגעלייענט אַ פּאָר צי אפֿשר אַ טוץ צײַטונגען. קיין שׂרה־רחל שעכטער האָב איך דאָרט נישט באַמערקט. פּונקט דעמאָלט, ווען איך האָב זיך געלאָזט קיין אַמעריקע, כּדי זיך אָנצושליסן אין אַ וויליאַמסבורגער ישיבֿה, האָט שׂרה־רחל באַקומען איר שטעלע אין דער צײַטונג.
רעדן האָב איך אין אַמעריקע גערעדט די ערשטע יאָרן רק אויף ייִדיש און כּמעט קיין ענגליש נישט געקענט, נאָר אינעם סאַטמאַרער וויליאַמסבורג האָב איך קיין פֿאָרווערטס אַוודאי בכלל נישט געזען.
אינעם ביוראָ האָט מיר יענע, נאָך אומבאַקאַנטע פֿרוי אײַנגעהענטיקט אַ שטיקל פּאַפּיר און געבעטן איבערצוזעצן אַ נײַעסל פֿון ענגליש אויף ייִדיש. האָב איך עס געטאָן, גלײַך באַקומען די שטעלע און זיך באַלד גוט באַקענט מיט דער רעדאַקציע: באָריס סאַנדלער, איציק גאָטעסמאַן, באָריס בודיאַנסקי און אַנדערע. אין גיכן האָב איך זיך אויך באַקענט מיט כּמעט אַלע באַוווּסטע ניו־יאָרקער ייִדישיסטן, און געוואָרן אַ יוצא־דופֿנדיקער פּאַרשוין: אַ מאָדערנער חסיד אַ בעל־תּשובֿה, וועלכער פֿילט זיך היימיש סײַ צווישן די חסידים, סײַ צווישן די וועלטלעכע ייִדישיסטן.
אַגבֿ, יענע איבערזעצונגען פֿון מאַנדעלשטאַמען האָב איך אַמאָל אויך פֿאָרגעלייענט אויף „קול ישׂראל‟. צו דער דאָזיקער ראַדיאָ־אוידיציע האָט דער פֿאָרווערטס האָט געהאַט אַן אומדיקערט צופֿעליק שײַכות. אַריה לאָנדאָן האָט מיר פּשוט אָנגעקלונגען אין דער רעדאַקציע און רעקאָרדירט דעם שמועס.
אינעם ביוראָ האָב איך נישט זעלטן געשמועסט וועגן מאַנדעלשטאַמען מיטן ייִדישן פּאָעט שלום בערגער וועלכער האָט דעמאָלט געפֿירט די וועבזײַט פֿון דער צײַטונג; שפּעטער האָב איך איבערגענומען אָט די מלאָכה.
אין מײַן היים־ביבליאָטעק שטייען נישט ווייניק ביכער, וואָס איך האָב זינט דעמאָלט רעדאַקטירט, איבערגעזעצט צי טיילווײַז אָנגעשריבן. דרײַסיק יאָר איז אַ לאַנגער וועג – אַ גאַנצע תּקופֿה, נאָר צו מאַנדעלשטאַמען קער איך זיך אום כּסדר. דעם פֿאַרגאַנגענעם דעצעמבער, בין איך אויפֿגעטראָטן אינעם פּעטערבורגער ייִדישן קהילה־צענטער מיט מײַנע נײַע איבערזעצונגען פֿונעם דאָזיקן פּאָעט אין פֿאַרגלײַך מיט מײַנע צען ייִדישע איבערזעצונגען פֿון רײַנער־מאַריאַ רילקעס לידער. מסתּמא צום ערשטן מאָל זענען רילקעס לידער איבערגעזעצט געוואָרן אויף ייִדיש; דער ליטעראַטור־פֿאָרשער וואַלערי דימשיץ האָט מיר געזאָגט, אַז קיין פֿריִערע ייִדישע איבערזעצונג פֿונעם דאָזיקן דיכטער אויף ייִדיש האָט ער נישט געזען.
וואָס שייך דעם פֿאָרווערטס, זענען בײַ מיר פֿונעם ייִנגערן דור מיטאַרבעטער פֿאַרבליבן באַזונדערס וואַרעמע זכרונות פֿון צוויי מיידלעך, דעמאָלט גאַנץ יונגע: אַנע (חנה) קוקאַ פֿון בערלין און ליודמילאַ שאָלאָכאָוואַ פֿון קיִעוו. נישט לאַנג האָבן זיי אָפּגעאַרבעט אינעם פֿאָרווערטס, נאָר מיט זיי האָט מען אַלעמאָל געקאָנט שמועסן אויף כּלערליי טשיקאַווע טעמעס (אַרײַנגערעכנט פּאָעזיע!) און זיך גוט אָנלאַכן. משה־יודאַ דײַטש, אַ סאַטמאַרער חסיד, וועלכער האָט דעמאָלט מיט אונדז געאַרבעט ווי אַ מיטדיזײַנער, איז געווען שטאַרק אומצופֿרידן דערמיט. סטײַטש, איך שרײַב טיפֿע אַרטיקלען וועגן חסידות און קבלה, און פּראַווע קלות־ראָש מיט אַ דײַטשקע און אַן אוקראַיִנקע! סאַראַ חוצפּה!
אויך זייער טשיקאַווע איז מיר געווען צו פֿירן די רובריק, דער עיקר, וועגן וויסנשאַפֿטלעכע ידיעות און נײַעס, וואָס האָט טאַקע געהייסן „טשיקאַוועס אַרום דער וועלט‟. כ׳האָף, אַז מע וועט דיגיטאַליזירן יענע נומערן און איך וועל קענען יענע אַרטיקעלעך אַליין איבערצולייענען.
להיפּוך צו אומאָנגענעמע קאָרפּאָראַטיווע צי סתּם העסלעכע אַרבעט־סבֿיבֿות, איז די פֿאָרווערטס־רעדאַקציע געבליבן אין מײַן זכּרון אַ פֿרײַנדלעכע חבֿרה, כּמעט אַ משפּחה, וווּ מע האָט געקאָנט שעפּן פֿון די מיטאַרבעטער און ביוראָ־באַזוכער אַ סך ידיעות וועגן די סאָוועטישע ייִדישע שרײַבער, דעם בונד, די אַמאָליקע ייִדישיסטישע אָרגאַניזאַציעס, און נאָך, און נאָך. און וואָס שייך מאַנדעלשטאַמען, וועל איך אים, אַוודאי, ווײַטער איבערזעצן.
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Should we be comparing ICE agents to Hitler’s ‘Brownshirts?’
In February of 1933, less than a month after Hitler became chancellor, Hermann Göring ordered the creation of a new 50,000-man “auxiliary police” force to combat what he called “organizations hostile to the state.” He built it by deputizing the Nazi Party’s most violent formation — the storm troopers, or Brownshirts — effectively turning a partisan militia into a state security arm.
Using similar framing, Donald Trump has declared that America’s greatest threat is “the enemy from within,” and he has found his own instrument to root them out: Immigration and Customs Enforcement, along with its partner agency, Customs and Border Protection.
In his second term, Trump has borrowed so many pages from the authoritarian playbook that it’s difficult to keep count. He has moved to purge civil servants who are not loyal to him, ban books, target political opponents, muzzle the press, rewrite history, and use extortion against institutions — universities, law firms, nonprofits — that he believes stand in his way.
Add to the list Trump’s transformation of ICE and CBP into something resembling an American version of the Brownshirts. The pattern is visible nationwide, but nowhere more starkly than in Minneapolis, where ICE operations have already produced a body count: two defenders of immigrants’ rights shot dead on the street.
Last fall, speaking to America’s top military brass, Trump warned that he might have to deploy the armed forces to Democratic-led cities to eliminate the so-called “enemy” by which he meant Americans protesting his immigration crackdown. That battle has already begun. It is not the military carrying it out, but federal immigration officers acting as soldiers, persecuting and attacking Americans who dare to stand against Trump’s authoritarian project.
To be sure, the Brownshirts and America’s immigration enforcement agencies have origins and histories that are completely dissimilar. ICE and CBP were created within a democratic system, staffed by career civil servants, and bound — at least in principle — by constitutional limits and judicial oversight. They were never conceived as a party militia, never designed to enforce ideological conformity, and never meant to serve as the armed wing of a political movement.
The Brownshirts, on the other hand, were explicitly created as a paramilitary arm of the Nazi Party — a street fighting militia whose purpose was to intimidate opponents, terrorize minorities, silence dissent, and make democratic life impossible through orchestrated violence. Hitler and the Brownshirts were linked from the beginning. When Hitler launched his failed Beer Hall Putsch in Munich on Nov. 8, 1923, he was supported by hundreds of armed storm troopers, who terrorized the city.
Starting with just 800 members in Munich, the SA expanded rapidly during the Great Depression and after Hitler’s rise to power — totaling nearly 3 million in early 1934. Their presence on the streets — marching, beating, threatening, killing — helped convince millions of Germans that the Weimar Republic was collapsing and that only the Nazis could restore order. Once Hitler took power, the SA’s role only intensified; they ran makeshift detention and torture centers, carried out mass arrests, and terrorized Jews, leftists, and anyone deemed “un-German,” all while enjoying political protection from the new regime.
Nine decades later, videos of violence on American streets posted each day on social media evoke the terror and intimidation carried out by the Brownshirts.
In Hitler’s Germany, storm troopers assaulted Jews, trade unionists, socialists, Communists, and others deemed by the Nazi leader to be enemies of the state. In Trump’s America, federal immigration agents have imprisoned innocent foreigners and attacked American citizens who have mobilized to defend immigrants’ constitutional rights.
The tipping point was the Minneapolis shooting of Alex Pretti, the ICU nurse who stepped in to help a protester confronted by federal immigration agents. Multiple bystander videos captured federal officers wrestling Pretti to the pavement, striking him, then firing several shots at him at close range. Federal authorities later claimed Pretti had approached them with a gun, but the videos — clear, close, and filmed from multiple angles — showed that assertion to be false.
Just a few days earlier, allegations arose that ICE had used a 5-year-old Minneapolis-area boy as bait to lure his Ecuador-born father out of the family home. Both the boy and the father were taken into detention.
As immigration officers have carried out Trump’s massive immigration crackdown, there have been many confrontations between federal officials and protesters, and with public officials who have gone to immigration courts to make sure immigrants’ rights aren’t violated. But Trump turned Minneapolis into something resembling a battle zone by unleashing a surge of federal immigration agents whose tactics blurred the line between policing and political repression.
Efforts to blame Alex Pretti and Renee Macklin Good — shot dead in her car by an ICE agent in Minneapolis 17 days before Pretti was gunned down — for their own deaths have backfired spectacularly. Statements made by Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem and Stephen Miller, Trump’s deputy chief of staff, were part of an effort to provide cover for the federal agents on the scene — as was the administration’s decision to shut out state and local law enforcement from any investigation. Covering up for the misdeeds of security forces was a hallmark of the Nazi state.
The outrage over what’s been happening in Minneapolis is so great that even some Republicans have said that ICE and CBP have gone too far. The Republican candidate for Minnesota governor, Chris Madel, pulled out of the race, calling ICE’s Operation Metro Surge “an unmitigated disaster” and denouncing the GOP’s “retribution on the citizens of our state.” Other Republicans have voiced similar dismay.
Trump is scrambling to contain the political damage. He has removed Gregory Bovino as commander of Operation Metro Surge and distanced himself from the derogatory and untrue statements made by Miller and Noem.
Trump told Fox News on Tuesday that he plans to “de-escalate a little bit” in Minneapolis, while at the same time asserting that the surge of immigration officers has been a success. Gov. Tim Walz said that in a phone conversation with Trump on Monday, the president “agreed to look into reducing the number of federal agents in Minnesota and working with the state in a more coordinated fashion on immigration enforcement regarding violent criminals.”
But who really knows what Trump will do next? Whatever it is, Trump being Trump, you can count on it being self-serving.
Authoritarian leaders often rein in their own enforcers when public backlash threatens their power. Hitler did it in 1934, when the Brownshirts’ zeal for mayhem and murder began to alienate the public and undermine his control. With the intense backlash over the deaths of Renee Good and Alex Pretti, Trump now faces a similar moment — a choice between escalating the violence or curbing it to preserve his political standing.
But remember this: The end of the Brownshirts’ street violence did not mean the end of the Hitler regime. In fact, it was just the beginning.
The post Should we be comparing ICE agents to Hitler’s ‘Brownshirts?’ appeared first on The Forward.