American politicians have an unfortunate habit of comparing contemporary events of which they disapprove to the Holocaust. It rarely ends well for them.
Those of us who comprehend the unique scale and scope of the devastation wrought in Nazi Germany react with understandable outrage, reprimanding the politician for trivializing the death of 6 million Jews and millions of other victims. The politician then either retreats apologetically or continues to insist on the validity of the horrifically flawed parallel. Either way, their original effort to disparage a political opponent is quickly overwhelmed by their obliviousness, insensitivity and embarrassing misunderstanding of history.
Both parties are guilty of this regrettable practice. Countless Republicans invoked Nazi references during the COVID pandemic to protest mask mandates, vaccine passports and other aggressive measures to prevent the virus’ spread. Conservatives have long used similar language to argue against what they see as unacceptable policies on abortion, gun control and religious liberty. And Donald Trump has frequently accused the FBI and Department of Justice of using “Gestapo-like tactics” during investigations into his campaign and presidency.
No shortage of Democrats have crossed this unacceptable line too. Former Vice President Al Gore was widely condemned for comparing surveillance programs used by George W. Bush’s administration after 9/11 to tactics used by the Gestapo in Nazi Germany. Last year, Gore suggested a similar equivalence between the Trump administration and the Third Reich’s propaganda efforts and was again widely castigated for his rhetorical excesses. And Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (D-NY) received similar pushback when she referred to migrant detention facilities used during the first Trump administration as “concentration camps.”
Most recently, it was Minnesota Governor Tim Walz (D) who stumbled into this thicket. In the heat of the fight over Trump’s expanded immigration enforcement in his state and the tragic deaths of two innocent civilians, Walz attempted this historical comparison:
“We have got children in Minnesota hiding in their houses, afraid to go outside. Many of us grew up reading that story of Anne Frank. Somebody’s going to write that children’s story about Minnesota.”
Someone might write a children’s story about Minnesota, especially the horrifying ordeal of five-year-old Liam Conejo Ramos being detained by immigration agents wearing a bunny-ear winter hat and a Spiderman backpack while returning home from preschool. Liam’s plight was appalling and indefensible. But it was not pedicide, and comparing Liam’s reprehensible experience to the systematic murder of more than 1.5 million children by the Nazis cheapens their memory.
The fact that Walz drew this comparison in a news conference just two days before International Holocaust Remembrance Day was even more unfortunate. Because while no child, in Minneapolis or elsewhere, should be forced to endure the dreadful traumas that many young people in the Twin Cities are currently facing, equating those ordeals to the suffering of Jewish children in Nazi Germany distorts historical reality, lowers the bar for extremist rhetoric and trivializes genocide.
But for those of us who consider ourselves to be guardians of the true meaning and horror of the Holocaust, Walz’s comments present us with a difficult dilemma. Raising the Shoah in a contemporary context can drain the tragedy of its meaning, but it can also serve as a reminder to those whose families were not directly impacted by the Nazis’ atrocities that the threat of such evil is one that all of us face, not just those of Jewish descent. In fact, one of the most effective tools employed by the Holocaust Museum of Los Angeles is an extraordinary outreach program to local elementary and high school students from other underrepresented communities to help them understand the universal nature of such a hideous threat.
We must continue to teach the lessons of the Holocaust toward a goal of such collective understanding and bridge-building. But weaponizing the tragedy as a political cudgel for partisan gain is unacceptable. In fact, it is contemptible.
This distinction is not a difficult one. Yet Walz, Trump and too many other political combatants continue to desecrate the most painful part of our heritage. It has to stop.
Dan Schnur is the U.S. Politics Editor for the Jewish Journal. He teaches courses in politics, communications, and leadership at UC Berkeley, USC and Pepperdine. He hosts the monthly webinar “The Dan Schnur Political Report” for the Los Angeles World Affairs Council & Town Hall. Follow Dan’s work at www.danschnurpolitics.com.
