“Antisemitism is often understood as visceral hatred of Jews. But that is only part of the story,” Izabella Tabarovsky wrote recently in Quillette.
She added: “Antisemitism is also a politics and a zeitgeist; a conspiracy theory that fuels mass hysteria about Jewish power; an underlying culture that teaches people that Jews are different, they don’t belong, they aren’t on our side—and ultimately, that they are our misfortune. It draws an invisible line between Jews and the broader society, gradually normalising their marginalisation and exclusion.”
As I read those haunting words, I found myself facing two choices: Given that the force of gravity is already to isolate Jews, should I just double down on my “Jewish difference” to nourish my Jewish pride? Or should I go the other way and double down on my Americanism?
Normally, I lean toward the first choice. For better or for worse, Jews have always been treated differently. That’s because in so many ways we are different, just not in the sinister way the haters would have you believe. For me, Jewish difference has been a source of pride precisely because my people have given so much to the world.
And yet, this year, I feel like going in the other direction. I feel like digging deep into my love of America. Not only am I not different, I want to tell the Jew-haters who want to isolate me, I’m actually as American as they come.
Maybe it’s because our 250th birthday is right around the corner. Or maybe it’s a statement of defiance, a way of telling Jew-haters I’m giving them the very opposite of what they want.
Whatever it is, in terms of fighting antisemitism, I’m convinced we can’t just settle for being “Jews who take care of Jews.” It’s a trap we ought not fall into.
Jews in America have never been limited to taking care only of their own. From the moment we landed on these shores, we’ve given back arguably more than any other group.
Different or not, Jews love America.
“Aside from Israel, this country has been the most supportive and welcoming place for Jews in all of history,” my friend Peter Himmelman wrote in the Journal in July 2025. “That support hasn’t always been perfect or uninterrupted. But look at the arc: America welcomed Jewish immigrants fleeing pogroms, and again after the Holocaust. It gave sanctuary and dignity to survivors. It stood by Israel — more than any other nation. And most importantly, it allowed Jews to speak, dissent, pray, create, and thrive.”
Jew-haters would love nothing better than to obliterate this deep Jewish connection with America. It contradicts their narrative that “Jews don’t belong,” that we are America’s “misfortune.”
If there is a misfortune in America today, it’s that too many Americans have fallen out of love with their country. According to Gallup, since 2000 the percentage of Americans who are extremely/very proud to be American has tumbled from 87 percent to 58 percent, most of it coming from the left.
As Arthur Krystal wrote in a recent essay in The New Yorker, “Wokeness helped chill the left’s admiration for the nation.” He concluded that “Patriotism just isn’t cool anymore.”
This apathy toward the American experiment is a corrosive virus that eats us from within.
Jews must come to America’s rescue.
Let’s bring patriotism back.
Whether it fights antisemitism or not, it’s the right thing to do.
It’s the best way to show our difference.
It’s the best way to build our Jewish pride.
