The Error of “Safety Through Solidarity”

A conversation I dread is one of synagogue security. Predictably, after each depraved moment such as what we saw in Colleyville, Texas, the discourse ripples with arguments over whether all synagogues should be arming themselves to the teeth or whether the presence of guns in the community was the problem to begin with or whether the presence of police makes non-white Jewish congregants feel unsafe or whether synagogues should be allowing people who have not been vetted into their sanctuaries at all. It’s a remarkably depressing area of conversation, just as normalized as the metal detectors Jews now must walk through on their way to sing Aleinu. But there is one solution to the problem of antisemitic violence that is particularly nauseating, far more than the others, and that is the idea, heralded by a variety of Jewish organizations, of “safety through solidarity.”

The notion of “safety through solidarity” asserts that Jews can mitigate any potential animosity directed toward them in a community by simply engaging more positively with this community. Yet one only has to look at the circumstances surrounding Beth Israel synagogue in Colleyville to see how condescending a prescription this is. 

The notion of “safety through solidarity” asserts that Jews can mitigate any potential animosity directed toward them in a community by simply engaging more positively with this community. It also operates as a noticeable contrast to more right-wing voices demanding tightened locks and loaded ammunition. Yet one only has to look at the circumstances surrounding Beth Israel Synagogue in Colleyville to see how condescending a prescription this is. Beth Israel prided itself on the interfaith relationship it had built with the Muslim community in town. Jawaid Alam, the president of the Islamic Center of Southlake, Texas, told Fort Worth Star Telegram that Rabbi Charlie Cytron-Walker, held captive by the terrorist in his own synagogue, was a personal friend of his, “a peace-loving person,” and a “true friend to the Muslim community.” After the hostages had been freed, an interfaith Fort Worth service brought together Muslims, Christians, atheists, and Jews and gave Rabbi Cytron-Walker a standing ovation. Clearly, and in typical American Jewish fashion of community service and cooperation, there are plenty of positive feelings and expressions of allyship to go around. The unfortunate truth, however, is that a man was still able to endanger the lives of Jews. It takes one psychopath to supersede the best intentions of the neighborhood.

Also unnerving in the “safety through solidarity” camp is the implication that the Jews are not doing enough to earn safety in their communities. 

Also unnerving in the “safety through solidarity” camp is the implication that the Jews are not doing enough to earn safety in their communities. It’s impossible to ignore the similarities in the reactions to the incident in Colleyville with the shooting at a grocery store in Jersey City or the stabbing of a rabbi in Monsey. After these incidents, media outlets attempted to either dilute the clear motive of antisemitism or imply that Jews had brought it on themselves: ways in which they had negatively affected the neighborhood to curry such grievance. When a white supremacist targets a synagogue, words are launched from every crevice of the polity on how his ideology wreaked of evil. When the perpetrating ideology is not that of a neo-Nazi, it suddenly is our responsibility to “connect” with our cities and towns for dialogue and communication. It should never matter who attacks Jews. The Jewish community is never responsible for violence directed toward it, regardless of how insular its members are or how worldly and outward-facing.

This week in Alma, a Jewish publication with a large social media presence and popular among young people, Rabbi Michael Rothbaum wrote: “What saved the hostages in Colleyville was a calm, kind, presence and smart thinking – not guns.” He promotes his support for gun control legislation as a cure for community violence, legislation which I strongly support as well. And yet, it seems foolish to assume that what happened in Texas is the norm for synagogue attacks. Those in Pittsburgh or Poway were not given the opportunity to be “calm and kind.” “You might say that the only thing that stops a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with love in his heart,” the rabbi continues. I couldn’t help but be offended by this naivete– considering even Hebrew school children understand that plenty of Jews with love in their hearts have been slaughtered regardless. 

There is no part of me that is comfortable with equipping a synagogue with weapons. It does not make me feel safer, it makes me feel more endangered­—only barely shielded by a machine I despise. But the “safety through solidarity” campaign renders me just as squeamish. It does not escape me that the ordeal of Colleyville occurred over Martin Luther King Jr. Day weekend.  A favorite quote of mine is by Reverend King that responded to Friedrich Neitzsche’s philosophy of love and power: 

“Power without love is reckless and abusive,” King noted. “Love without power is sentimental and anemic.”

Blake Flayton is New Media Director and columnist at the Jewish Journal.