At long last, the masks are off.
Well before, and especially since the pogrom of October 7, 2023, public figures on the left have insisted that their issue was merely with “Zionism” or “the Netanyahu government.” They hid behind the language of critique, behind the idea that their grievances were purely political. But we all knew that “From The River To The Sea” wasn’t a chant against a particular government, but against the very idea of a Jewish State—specifically, one with the will and the capacity to defend itself. We all knew that “Globalize the Intifada” wasn’t a benign comment on policy. It is a clear call to commit violence against Jews and their supporters. But wouldn’t you know it. It took the far right to bring an end to that game.
Now, thanks to Tuck, Candy, and Nick, there is no need to beat around the bush. They have made it possible for everyone to withdraw the pernicious poison from the medicine cabinet of history and inject it directly into the cultural and political bloodstream of America. No need to whisper. I hear it spoken brazenly, almost with a sigh of relief. Recently, I overheard a guy in the locker room at my local YMCA whispering to someone about the Rothschilds. “Jewish money, man. That’s the whole problem.”
So yes.
Thank you, Tucker.
Thank you, Candace.
Thank you, Nick.
You have finally said the quiet parts loudly enough that no one can pretend not to hear them.
Tucker Carlson—who has regularly elevated guests immersed in conspiratorial thinking about Jews—now responds to questions about antisemitism not with clarity, but with simpering, wounded indignation. In one 2024 exchange, when pressed about his role in amplifying such rhetoric, he snapped, “I don’t even like talking about Israel because no matter what I say, I’ll be called an antisemite.” It is an old trick: make oneself the victim of the accusation rather than the source of the atmosphere that prompts it.
Carlson’s largest interview audience, across platforms, now exceeds 20 million weekly viewers—which makes what he says, and who he platforms, matter. During his interview with British commentator David Clews—a man who has called the Holocaust a “hoax” and endorsed the idea that Jews “invented” the numbers—Carlson’s response was breathtakingly benign: “Well, I don’t know anything about that, but I’m always open to hearing other views.” No pushback. No recoil. Just the easy permissiveness of someone willing to let the oldest hatred air itself out in his living room.
Candace Owens, who once claimed she “never talks about Jews,” now talks about little else. Her shift after October 7 was swift, almost revelatory in its bluntness. Among her statements, one stands out for its clarity: “There is a very small ring of specific people who use the fact that they are Jewish to shield themselves from any criticism.” When Jews objected, she answered not with reflection but escalation, describing them as “people who scream antisemitism because they’re actually the real racial supremacists.”
Owens now commands an audience of 12 million followers across platforms—a number large enough to turn slander into cultural consensus. In two short sentences, she revived medieval blood-libel logic and Klan-era mythology while congratulating herself for “saying what no one else will.”
And then there is Nick Fuentes, who dispenses with pretense altogether. He does not hint or suggest. He states plainly: “Jews are running the country. That’s just a fact.” In another recording, he went further: “When we take power, the people responsible for what’s happened—most of them Jewish—should face the death penalty.”
Fuentes speaks with pride to a young and fervent audience that—across Telegram, Rumble, Gab, and his livestreams—numbers over 500,000 dedicated followers, many of whom treat his every utterance as prophecy. It is difficult to find language so nakedly violent outside of 20th-century Europe. Yet here it is, as casual as a summer stroll.
What makes this moment uniquely dangerous is not merely the antisemitism itself, but the convergence. The far right and the far left—groups who despise one another on every other point—are suddenly meeting in a single place: their certainty that Jewish identity, Jewish continuity, and Jewish self-defense are unacceptable. On the left, Jews are cast as colonialists. On the right, Jews are cast as conspirators. Different vocabulary, same target. And in the middle stand millions of Jewish men, women, and children who refuse to relinquish their heritage or abandon their connection to Israel, their ancestral homeland and the world’s only Jewish State.
These are people who, since 10/7, find themselves politically homeless—as if the ground beneath them has shifted, leaving them no safe place to stand. One needn’t use too much imagination to see the parallels to 1930s Germany: a divided and demoralized country on the lookout for someone to blame. Who better than the Jews? The Christ-killers, the wealthy, the poverty-stricken, the stateless, the powerful, the damned.
This dislocation might have been softened by a moment of moral clarity after October 7. But moral clarity, always a rarity, was not to be found, even then, as protests began on streets and campuses worldwide only days after the pogrom. The greatest irony—the deepest and cruelest inversion—is that the largest mass slaughter of Jews since the Shoah did not produce solidarity. It became an invitation for history’s oldest, most unrelenting hatred to step forward, unmasked, and claim the stage once again.
In this environment, the language of Carlson, Owens, and Fuentes is not incidental. It normalizes what was once unspeakable. It shifts the Overton window until ancient slander becomes contemporary insight. And suddenly, what would have been recognized five years ago as fringe rhetoric is now part of the national—and international—conversation.
And when hatred reaches this stage—when it is unembarrassed, unmasked, unafraid—violence is no longer unthinkable. It is simply the next step in a progression that history knows all too well.
In Jewish thought—from the Zohar to the commentaries on the Tree of Knowledge—the mingling of good and evil is described as the most dangerous spiritual condition. Separation, not blending, is what restores clarity.
Thank you Tucker Carlson, Candace Owens, and Nick Fuentes for your honesty—your bold, clear, unvarnished ugliness. Because by speaking plainly, you have done us a dark favor. You have shown us that the old hatred was not gone; it was merely waiting for permission. And now, in your hands, and in this moment, permission has been granted. And of course, we must thank our president as well for his “diplomatic” comments pertaining to Mr. Carlson: “You can’t tell him who to interview. If he wants to interview Nick Fuentes — I don’t know much about him, but if he wants to do it, get the word out. People have to decide.”
For Jews everywhere—for those who support Israel, and for those who simply wish to live without succumbing to a groundswell of moral insanity—this is the warning:
It isn’t coming. It is here.
Listen closely.
Speak out with clarity.
Never hide from your essential self.
Peter Himmelman is a Grammy and Emmy nominated performer, songwriter, film composer, visual artist and award-winning author.
Thank You Tucker, Candace & Nick!
Peter Himmelman
At long last, the masks are off.
Well before, and especially since the pogrom of October 7, 2023, public figures on the left have insisted that their issue was merely with “Zionism” or “the Netanyahu government.” They hid behind the language of critique, behind the idea that their grievances were purely political. But we all knew that “From The River To The Sea” wasn’t a chant against a particular government, but against the very idea of a Jewish State—specifically, one with the will and the capacity to defend itself. We all knew that “Globalize the Intifada” wasn’t a benign comment on policy. It is a clear call to commit violence against Jews and their supporters. But wouldn’t you know it. It took the far right to bring an end to that game.
Now, thanks to Tuck, Candy, and Nick, there is no need to beat around the bush. They have made it possible for everyone to withdraw the pernicious poison from the medicine cabinet of history and inject it directly into the cultural and political bloodstream of America. No need to whisper. I hear it spoken brazenly, almost with a sigh of relief. Recently, I overheard a guy in the locker room at my local YMCA whispering to someone about the Rothschilds. “Jewish money, man. That’s the whole problem.”
So yes.
Thank you, Tucker.
Thank you, Candace.
Thank you, Nick.
You have finally said the quiet parts loudly enough that no one can pretend not to hear them.
Tucker Carlson—who has regularly elevated guests immersed in conspiratorial thinking about Jews—now responds to questions about antisemitism not with clarity, but with simpering, wounded indignation. In one 2024 exchange, when pressed about his role in amplifying such rhetoric, he snapped, “I don’t even like talking about Israel because no matter what I say, I’ll be called an antisemite.” It is an old trick: make oneself the victim of the accusation rather than the source of the atmosphere that prompts it.
Carlson’s largest interview audience, across platforms, now exceeds 20 million weekly viewers—which makes what he says, and who he platforms, matter. During his interview with British commentator David Clews—a man who has called the Holocaust a “hoax” and endorsed the idea that Jews “invented” the numbers—Carlson’s response was breathtakingly benign: “Well, I don’t know anything about that, but I’m always open to hearing other views.” No pushback. No recoil. Just the easy permissiveness of someone willing to let the oldest hatred air itself out in his living room.
Candace Owens, who once claimed she “never talks about Jews,” now talks about little else. Her shift after October 7 was swift, almost revelatory in its bluntness. Among her statements, one stands out for its clarity: “There is a very small ring of specific people who use the fact that they are Jewish to shield themselves from any criticism.” When Jews objected, she answered not with reflection but escalation, describing them as “people who scream antisemitism because they’re actually the real racial supremacists.”
Owens now commands an audience of 12 million followers across platforms—a number large enough to turn slander into cultural consensus. In two short sentences, she revived medieval blood-libel logic and Klan-era mythology while congratulating herself for “saying what no one else will.”
And then there is Nick Fuentes, who dispenses with pretense altogether. He does not hint or suggest. He states plainly: “Jews are running the country. That’s just a fact.” In another recording, he went further: “When we take power, the people responsible for what’s happened—most of them Jewish—should face the death penalty.”
Fuentes speaks with pride to a young and fervent audience that—across Telegram, Rumble, Gab, and his livestreams—numbers over 500,000 dedicated followers, many of whom treat his every utterance as prophecy. It is difficult to find language so nakedly violent outside of 20th-century Europe. Yet here it is, as casual as a summer stroll.
What makes this moment uniquely dangerous is not merely the antisemitism itself, but the convergence. The far right and the far left—groups who despise one another on every other point—are suddenly meeting in a single place: their certainty that Jewish identity, Jewish continuity, and Jewish self-defense are unacceptable. On the left, Jews are cast as colonialists. On the right, Jews are cast as conspirators. Different vocabulary, same target. And in the middle stand millions of Jewish men, women, and children who refuse to relinquish their heritage or abandon their connection to Israel, their ancestral homeland and the world’s only Jewish State.
These are people who, since 10/7, find themselves politically homeless—as if the ground beneath them has shifted, leaving them no safe place to stand. One needn’t use too much imagination to see the parallels to 1930s Germany: a divided and demoralized country on the lookout for someone to blame. Who better than the Jews? The Christ-killers, the wealthy, the poverty-stricken, the stateless, the powerful, the damned.
This dislocation might have been softened by a moment of moral clarity after October 7. But moral clarity, always a rarity, was not to be found, even then, as protests began on streets and campuses worldwide only days after the pogrom. The greatest irony—the deepest and cruelest inversion—is that the largest mass slaughter of Jews since the Shoah did not produce solidarity. It became an invitation for history’s oldest, most unrelenting hatred to step forward, unmasked, and claim the stage once again.
In this environment, the language of Carlson, Owens, and Fuentes is not incidental. It normalizes what was once unspeakable. It shifts the Overton window until ancient slander becomes contemporary insight. And suddenly, what would have been recognized five years ago as fringe rhetoric is now part of the national—and international—conversation.
And when hatred reaches this stage—when it is unembarrassed, unmasked, unafraid—violence is no longer unthinkable. It is simply the next step in a progression that history knows all too well.
In Jewish thought—from the Zohar to the commentaries on the Tree of Knowledge—the mingling of good and evil is described as the most dangerous spiritual condition. Separation, not blending, is what restores clarity.
Thank you Tucker Carlson, Candace Owens, and Nick Fuentes for your honesty—your bold, clear, unvarnished ugliness. Because by speaking plainly, you have done us a dark favor. You have shown us that the old hatred was not gone; it was merely waiting for permission. And now, in your hands, and in this moment, permission has been granted. And of course, we must thank our president as well for his “diplomatic” comments pertaining to Mr. Carlson: “You can’t tell him who to interview. If he wants to interview Nick Fuentes — I don’t know much about him, but if he wants to do it, get the word out. People have to decide.”
For Jews everywhere—for those who support Israel, and for those who simply wish to live without succumbing to a groundswell of moral insanity—this is the warning:
It isn’t coming. It is here.
Listen closely.
Speak out with clarity.
Never hide from your essential self.
Peter Himmelman is a Grammy and Emmy nominated performer, songwriter, film composer, visual artist and award-winning author.
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