May 15, 2024

It has been a while since I wrote in my column here at the Jewish Journal. There is a reason for my silence. I noticed that there were so many people, like myself, with views about Israel, Hamas, the Palestinian cause, antisemitism, genocide, and international politics. Like me, most live in relative safety, thousands of miles away from the trauma and terrifying human consequences of this current war. I realized that my opinion pieces were just that — my opinion, and nothing more. So, I did what I believe many others could have and should have done: Stop opining, and start to listen more.

I am writing this week after taking time to absorb the gravity of this unprecedented situation. I spent time in Israel, visited the sites of genocidal mass killings in the Gaza envelope, and delved into the experiences of Oct. 7 with its survivors. I am producing a virtual reality testimony program, “Be the Witness,” produced for the Israeli education organization Israel-Is. I also produced a forthcoming website with the A-Mark Foundation, which provides nonpolitical insights from experts in the Middle East using conversational video AI. I took time to listen and learn from the best minds in the field and make their expertise available to all.

This week as we remembered Yom HaShoah, the weight of the loss of 1,200 mainly Jewish lives on Oct. 7 was a terrifying reminder of the genocidal nature of antisemitism.

“Be the Witness VR” launched in London last week, the day after Yom HaShoah. Israel-Is CEO Nimrod Palmach has a mission to teach the world what ‘Israel is’ and has worked tirelessly to bring the story of the witnesses of Oct. 7 to the world so they can tell their own story in their own words at the places they experienced that day.

Using advanced immersive technologies, it is now possible to be at Kibbutz Be’eri and the site of the Nova music festival at Re’im. There, you can look directly into the eyes of Millet Ben Haim as she describes the moment the music stopped. 

Using advanced immersive technologies, it is now possible to be at Kibbutz Be’eri and the site of the Nova music festival at Re’im. There, you can look directly into the eyes of Millet Ben Haim as she describes the moment the music stopped. You can be under the bush as Mazal Tazazo describes the moment she awoke after being rifle-butted, only to find her two best friends lying next to her, dead.

I have felt many things during the learning journey I have been on: At times, sadness; occasional anger; consternation about the ways in which ideological extremism seems to continually overwhelm the middle ground; sorrow at how the evil of a small group of people can create deep divisions in families and communities worldwide; disgust at the way the perpetrators of Oct. 7 were not content to kill, but also raped, mutilated, and tortured their victims; wonder at the resilience of the young people caught up in this war through no fault of their own; and concern about the lack of empathy for Palestinians in Gaza, who have endured immense suffering at the hands of Hamas and the toll of war.

The one thing I have not felt is fear. There are several reasons for this. The first is the strength I have derived from the survivors themselves. I have been listening to their stories almost daily as we worked on “Be the Witness VR,” which includes five individual eyewitnesses telling their stories. They had much to fear, and yet, despite the immense trauma they have been through, they are resilient. Like the generation of Holocaust survivors who went before them, despite their profound disappointment in human behavior, they promote love and empathy. Knowing that Hamas is a lethal and manipulative enemy is not the same thing as fearing them.

Secondly, during my listening journey, I have witnessed the diversity and resilience of the Jewish people as never before. To much of the outside world, a Jew is a Jew is a Jew, all tarred with the same brush. What they don’t have the privilege of seeing is just how amazingly different we all are. They don’t see our sharply divergent views on politics, religion, and culture. As far as I can tell, there are 15 million different versions of what it means to be a Jew. There is one overriding exception, which is why antisemites can be forgiven for misreading our unanimity — when faced with anti-Jewish hatred, Jews know where the buck stops. We will fight for our survival.

One thing I have done during my hiatus is to take time to listen to Palestinian voices too. Not the angry, vociferous tirades we encounter on our news channels, but the ordinary people caught up in a war that is not of their making. It’s hard to hear when the volume is so loud, but my staunch opposition to Hamas and its destructive ideology does not need to mute the empathy I feel for the devastating loss that so many Palestinians have endured.

If we want humanity to prevail, our own humanity must also survive, however much we mistrust one another now. Germany was once the enemy that carried out Oct. 7 for the equivalent of 5,000 such days. Today they are our ally. 

I have spent much of my life studying the Holocaust, not because I am interested in how Jews died, but because I am interested in how Jews survived and have told their own story. Anti-Jewish hatred culminating in mass murder is part of a long history of persecution, regrouping, and restoration that has endured for many thousands of years. Hamas, like all the others, will one day be a blip, a distant memory in the Jewish people’s long and enduring legacy.

“Be the Witness VR” uses the latest technology to tell an ancient story—that in spite of everything, Jews will survive, we will teach the power of love and humanity over hate and barbarism, and we will all be stronger for it.

Stephen D. Smith is Executive Director Emeritus of USC Shoah Foundation and Founder of the Chatterbox Group.

In November 1789, as he neared the end of his life, Benjamin Franklin penned a letter to the French scientist Jean-Baptiste Le Roy, concerned after not having heard from him since the start of the French Revolution just a few months earlier. Le Roy, known for his work in physics and as a pioneer in the field of electricity, was an esteemed member of the French Academy of Sciences and a significant Enlightenment-era figure.

Franklin, writing in French, inquired about Le Roy’s health and the situation in Paris over the previous year. He then provided a brief update on the major developments in the United States, mentioning the recent ratification of the U.S. Constitution and the formation of a new government. “Our new Constitution is now established,” he wrote, “[and] everything seems to promise it will be durable.” Although, as he noted wryly, “In this world, nothing is certain except death and taxes.”

As was often the case with Franklin’s pithy one-liners later attributed exclusively to him – his “death and taxes” observation was not original. It first appeared in “The Cobbler of Preston,” a 1716 comedy by English playwright Christopher Bullock, with the main character, Toby Guzzle, uttering the immortal line: “’Tis impossible to be sure of anything but death and taxes.”

In any event, it is Franklin’s adaptation of Bullock’s quote that stood the test of time, and it has become synonymous with his name. Nevertheless, it has often struck me that what is missing in both Bullock’s original and Franklin’s reiteration is the one other certainty in the world – no less persistent and undoubtedly as permanent as death and taxes: namely, antisemitism.

Antisemitism has permeated societies for centuries. It has transcended geographical boundaries and historical epochs. From medieval Europe to the modern world, from the dusty provinces of the Ottoman Empire to the incendiary pages of Henry Ford’s Dearborn Independent periodical, from the evil rhetoric of Adolf Hitler to the paranoid theories of Joseph Stalin, antisemitism has proven incredibly resilient and pervasive, and it has cast a long shadow evident to this day.

The late Rabbi Jonathan Sacks wrote and spoke frequently about antisemitism. As he explained: “Antisemitism is not a unitary phenomenon, a coherent belief or ideology. Jews have been hated because they were rich and because they were poor; because they were capitalists and because they were communists; because they believed in tradition and because they were rootless cosmopolitans; because they kept to themselves and because they penetrated everywhere. Antisemitism is not a belief but a virus. The human body has an immensely sophisticated immune system which develops defenses against viruses. It is penetrated, however, because viruses mutate. Antisemitism mutates.”

And in its latest mutation, the cause of antisemitism is the Jewish people’s unshakeable love for and devotion to Israel, the sovereign country of the Jews, established – after almost two millennia of bitter exile – in their ancestral homeland, the land cited in the hallowed pages of the Hebrew Scriptures as God’s bequest to the Jewish people.

But as Rabbi Sacks observed, antisemitism has adapted and evolved over time, morphing into many different forms, even as it always retained its destructive core. Today, criticism of Israel has become the primary vehicle for antisemitism. And while the right to critique any nation’s policies is fundamental to democratic principles, it has become clear that anti-Israel sentiment and activism has veered, or more likely been deliberately directed, into the dangerous territory of bigoted, unbridled Jew-hatred. In polite company, no one will ever admit to hating Jews; instead, antisemites freely admit to hating Israel and Zionists, and indeed anyone who refuses to condemn Israel and call for its downfall (in other words, the vast majority of the world’s Jews).

Over the past few days, this façade was fully exposed for what it is in Los Angeles, at UCLA. After an illegal pro-Palestinian encampment was set up on the campus last Thursday, Eli Tsives, a 19-year-old theater and film major, attempted to attend a class. He was immediately obstructed by several students wearing keffiyehs and face masks. Despite showing his student ID and requesting access, Tsives, who was wearing a Star of David necklace, found his path firmly blocked by the group. Tsives is not Israeli, nor is the Star of David an exclusively Israeli symbol. Rather, it is a universally recognized Jewish symbol. This was enough for Tsives to be denied access to his class.

Jewish UCLA students have told me that they are frightened to walk around with yarmulkes and with their tzitzit visible. Last Sunday, in a big show of support for UCLA students, the L.A. community came out in force to show solidarity with Israel on the UCLA campus. The pro-Palestinian rabble – all of them cloaked in the keffiyehs that have become the mark of this latest manifestation of Jew-hatred – looked uncomfortable with the Jewish community’s unashamed, unadulterated love for Israel. And over the past couple of days, after confrontations between the illegal protesters and pro-Israel counterprotesters predictably descended into violence, LAPD finally came on campus to dismantle the unlawful encampment and to arrest the agitators who set it up and refused to leave.

The fight against antisemitism is a fight for the soul of America. All Americans must stand in solidarity with Jews against hate, and champion the values of understanding and tolerance.

The challenge ahead for American Jews is formidable, particularly in the post-Oct. 7 landscape. The response to this crisis will not only shape the future of Jewish community life in America, but it will also reflect the moral integrity of our nation. The fight against antisemitism is a fight for the soul of America. All Americans must stand in solidarity with Jews against hate, and champion the values of understanding and tolerance.

Last Shabbat, Jews across the world read the Torah portion of Acharei Mot, which includes the detailed rituals for the Yom Kippur service. The Day of Atonement is a profound opportunity for introspection and self-reflection, calling upon individuals and communities to recognize their shortcomings and seek forgiveness. In the spirit of Yom Kippur, American Jews must reflect on the complacency that has allowed us to believe antisemitism was no longer a significant threat. Recent events have shattered that illusion, revealing a disturbing resurgence of bigotry that demands a collective response.

Yet, we are not alone. Many of our fellow Americans are horrified by recent developments and will stand with us. As Rabbi Sacks so tellingly declared: “Jews cannot fight antisemitism alone. The victim cannot cure the crime, and the hated cannot cure the hate.” He added: “Antisemitism begins with Jews, but it never ends with them. A world without room for Jews is one that has no room for difference. And a world that lacks space for difference lacks space for humanity itself.”

And while the scourge of antisemitism may be as certain as death and taxes, this doesn’t excuse us from fighting back. We stave off death by staying healthy, and our accountants work hard to ensure we only pay the taxes we owe, and no more. It is time for us to stand up to antisemitism, to call it out for what it is, and to fight it with all our might.

The United States was the first country in human history to treat Jews as equals, allowing them to practice their faith without hindrance. It is time for our country to reclaim this glorious legacy, and to ensure that the tendrils of hate do not overwhelm the very essence of what made this country the greatest nation on earth.

Rabbi Pini Dunner is the senior spiritual leader at Beverly Hills Synagogue, a member of the Young Israel family of synagogues.

In 1978, as the protests against Shah Mohammad Reza Pahlavi were picking up volume and speed, Michel Foucault visited Tehran. He wrote several articles for the French and Italian press on the revolutionary proceedings and sat down for a conversation with the writer Baqir Parham to discuss world events. 

Turning first to the West, Foucault noted that the desire to establish a “non-alienated, clear, lucid, and balanced society” had begotten, over the preceding 200 years, Western industrial capitalism, which, he postulated, is “the harshest, most savage, most selfish, most dishonest, oppressive society one could possibly imagine.”

To Foucault, Marx was right in seeing religion as the opiate of the masses —except when it came to Shiite Islam.

The West, it appears, was pure evil. But new hope rose from the East, specifically from Iran, where young and old alike were casting off the yoke of tyranny. Foucault told Parham he agreed with those in Iran who said that Marx was right about religion being the opiate of the masses — except when it comes to Shiite Islam. Shiism is different, surmised Foucault, because of “the role of Shiism in a political awakening.”

Foucault cheered the crowds and wrote enthusiastically about the movement to oust the Shah (no doubt a corrupt dictator). Reading his words, one gets the impression that even more than wishing freedom for the Iranian people, Foucault seems to be excited about what he perceived as the Iranian rejection of modernity.

“Recent events,” he wrote just one month after his conversation with Parham, “did not signify a shrinking back in the face of modernization by extremely retrograde elements, but the rejection, by a whole culture and a whole people, of a modernization that is itself an archaism.” 

It wasn’t the Khomeinist movement that was retrograde, but modernity itself. As an archaic framework, it had to be removed, and Foucault celebrated what he perceived as Iran’s rejection of it. “Modernization as a political project and as a principle of social transformation is a thing of the past in Iran.”

As part of the French philosophical tradition (modern itself, alas), Foucault identified revolution with the Iranian people’s volonté générale. Accordingly, he hoped (in strange contradiction to much of his published thought), that while modernity has made Iranians alienated from themselves, the adoption of fundamentalist Islam would return them to their true identity and allow them to express true freedom. 

Foucault envisioned the Islamist revolutionary movement ending not in a ruthless theocracy but in an ideal “political spirituality,” ushering in a new form of nonalienated politics not only to the Middle East but to the whole world. His moral and political failure would haunt him for the few remaining years of his life, on which French author Didier Eribon writes that “The criticism and sarcasm that greeted Foucault’s ‘mistake’ concerning Iran added further to his despondency … For a long time thereafter Foucault rarely commented on politics or journalism.”

Revisiting Foucault’s romance with the Iranian revolution has nothing nostalgic today, when only two months ago an heir of Foucault as prominent as Judith Butler insisted that the Hamas attack on Israeli civilians on Oct. 7, which included mass murder, systematic rape, kidnapping of whole families and an attempted ethnic cleansing of more than 20 villages and three cities, was “armed resistance” and “not a terrorist attack.” The infatuation of thinkers in the Western radical left with Islamist terrorism has been more or less a constant, going back to the Soviet Union’s support of the PLO after 1967’s Six-Day War, when the Soviets saw a chance to put a proverbial spanner in the works, so as to undermine U.S. control of the region. But even without going into the historical-geopolitical reasons for this alliance, its symptoms have been constant — flaring up especially after 9/11. In its aftermath, one could read French postmodernist theorist Jean Baudrillard claiming that “the system forced the Other [= Al Qaeda] to change the rules of the game … Terrorism is the act that restores an irreducible singularity to the heart of a generalized system of exchange.”

Again we encounter Capitalism as the Infernal Fiend against which the terrorists rebel, and again the hope for authentic existence (“irreducible singularity”) born through the painful, though “unavoidable,” labor of mass murder. 

Islamist fundamentalism is an old favorite with these thinkers, and no doubt its sharp otherness from the secular West adds to its “authentic” charm. But there is nothing special about Islamist fundamentalism within this genre of thought, as can be witnessed, for example, as early as in Sartre’s infamous preface to Frantz Fanon’s “The Wretched of the Earth” (1961). Sartre conjures similar standards when he states that, in the rebellion of the colonized, “to shoot down a European is to kill two birds with one stone, to destroy an oppressor and the man he oppresses at the same time: there remain a dead man, and a free man; the survivor, for the first time, feels national soil under his foot.”

We find here the blueprint for the quest for authentic being through the aggrandizement of violence, though here relating to a more general indigenous nationalist, not specifically the Islamic fundamentalist. But there is something else that is common to all these arguments, which is the target of this kind of “authentic” violence. It is always the West.

More than a romantic infatuation with the not-so-noble savage, what we have here is a rejection of the West, condemning it and its offspring, modernity, as inherently violent, oppressive, imperialist, patriarchal, or just plain evil. This genre of thinking has a history, as Avishai Margalit and Ian Buruma display in their book “Occidentalism” (a play, of course, on Edward Said’s “Orientalism”). From the 18th century onward, “the West” has always been denigrated by its eastern neighbors, though how the West was defined had changed over time. France maligned the English, Germany thought that “Paris, Europe, the West,” as Richard Wagner once wrote, were corrupt with “freedom and also alienation,” Russian thinkers like Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky thought similarly about Germany as well, and Indian, Chinese and Japanese intellectuals viewed the whole of Europe as degenerate and depraved. 

Several strands of thought coalesce to produce this hatred. Romanticism of course, which considers rationalism and intellectualism as spurious artificialities detached from life; the pre-modern aristocratic view of commerce as debased and demeaning; the traditional devotion to hierarchy and authority, and the condemnation of a culture that sheds these off; the religious objection to secularization; and perhaps above all the dread and the feeling of loss that comes with a community’s transition into a society.

This transformation of Gemeinschaft to Gesellschaft, perhaps the cardinal question on which the field of sociology was established, should be viewed as the sum of all fears for any traditional civilization. The passage from the organic extended family or village to autonomous individuality, from a world suffused with myth and religiosity to a disenchanted universe engaged in meritocracy and trade, is what Durkheim warned against as “anomie,” or what Max Weber, at the end of his masterly “The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism calls “mechanized petrification, embellished with a sort of convulsive self-importance.” This is the crisis Occidentalism spurns, what, at heart, Foucault, Baudrillard, Sartre and Butler revolt against. 

Fascism of course also rebelled against the “decadence” of liberal society and promised a fierce and faithful Volksgemeinschaft. And were not dominant parts of the Marxist tradition, opposing liberalism as well, and promising a new society free from alienation, actually seeking a return to pre-modern tribal brotherhood? “The protest against the abstractions of modernity,” writes sociologist Peter L. Berger, “is at the heart of the socialist ideal.” 

Right now, however, this strange anti-modern revolt takes aim at Israel. As the most obvious manifestation of “West” in the midst of “East,” as what is considered the last living remnant of colonial rule and of imperialism (however small in scale), Israel acts as the lightning rod for the Occidentalists’ vitriol. Of course much of the criticism of Israel is warranted. Israel is subjugating another people militarily and tragically does not show signs it wants to end that subjugation. But the amalgamation of postcolonialism, postnationalism, and anti-racism that manifests itself as a celebration for Hamas’ “resistance” signals something deeper than justified objection to military occupation.

It’s enough to hear the calls for the complete destruction of the state to understand that the phenomenon we are witnessing carries a deeper sentiment than the advocacy for Palestinian independence.

The crowd which alternates between cries for ceasefire and for global intifada echoes Foucault and Baudrillard, this time seeing not the Shah or the global market but Israel as the instrument of modernity that has to be overcome. 

The crowd which alternates between cries for ceasefire and for global intifada echoes Foucault and Baudrillard, this time seeing not the Shah or the global market but Israel as the instrument of modernity that has to be overcome. In its focused locality, impudent pride and contrast with its neighbors, Israel becomes a Western coat of arms stuck within an oriental arabesque, an emblematic representation of the West, a metonym for the whole civilizational field that reaches from the Enlightenment to the industrial-military complex. 

Just as deposing the Shah was negligible for Foucault in comparison to the rejection of modernity, or Al-Qaeda’s fundamentalist jihad was invisible to Baudrillard, focusing as he was on their achieving “irreducible singularity” in an imaginary struggle against capitalist market forces, the Palestinians’ possible realization of their right of self-determination is here only a side-show to the imagined eradication of that island of Westernness in the midst of the East.

As the progenitor of Christianity, Judaism is conceived as the West’s most primitive kernel, the primal point of ur-Westernness. Israel thus becomes a Western totem, portraying the malevolent spirits of the West’s entire history.

Israel’s Jewishness obviously makes this a double whammy. As the progenitor of Christianity, Judaism is conceived as the West’s most primitive kernel, the primal point of ur-Westernness. Israel thus becomes a Western totem, portraying the malevolent spirits of the West’s entire history. In an incredible historical irony, the Jews are now not an oriental, semitic pariah nation nor a degenerate sub-human race, but the purest representatives of the West and the most atrocious white supremacists.

Moreover, as the West’s original essence, Israel naturally carries the West’s original sin: territorial and cultural colonialism. Making Israel pay for its racist colonialism is not only mandated as a step on the long march toward justice, but serves also as a purgative practice for other Westerners. Burning Israel, the effigy of the West, will cleanse the West itself from its past transgressions. The wish to eradicate Israel is therapeutic, indeed salvific: The sins of all the forefathers, those imperialist, colonialist, slave-holding Europeans, will finally be atoned. The Jewish state is thus set up to be sacrificed, burned as a Holocaust for the redemption of the original sins of the West.

In October 2021, shortly after U.S. military withdrawal from Afghanistan, filmmaker Ami Horowitz went to raise money for the Taliban at UC Berkeley campus — an obvious satirical stunt. Telling students that the Taliban needs the money to “strike against American interests around the world and in the homeland” because “America needs to be brought to heel,” he found students interested and willing to donate. Western self-hatred, in certain circles, has become fashionable to the point of banality. The reasons, overtly “imperialism” or “white supremacy,” are in truth much more subtle. It is a rejection, by a whole culture, of modernity itself. We cannot forgive ourselves for becoming modern.

Dr. Persico is a Research Fellow at the Shalom Hartman Institute and a Rubinstein Fellow at Reichman University. This essay was originally published in Café Americain and is reprinted with permission.

When I began my term as student body president at Cal State Long Beach in June 2023, I aimed to ensure every voice was heard and represented, drawing from my own experience immigrating from India at the age of 14 and understanding the importance of having one’s voice heard.

I took an oath of office to prioritize the needs of the students, aligning with the mission and values of Associated Students Inc. (ASI), where I became the President/CEO. Unfortunately, most members of ASI Senate and the Senate board chair failed to uphold this mission. Despite their previous impartiality and commitment to “Keeping the Students First,” they neglected to consider all perspectives and protect all students. 

Amid the distressing events unfolding in Israel on October 7th, a student group named La Fuerza organized a rally on our campus that seemed to express support for the attack on Israel, as evidenced by heinous flyers featuring paragliders. Upon learning about the situation, I collaborated with student leaders to draft a neutral statement aimed at fostering safety and support for all students. On the day of the protest, I dedicated my time at the Beach Hillel Center, providing support and reassurance to students.

The following ASI Senate meeting, La Fuerza expressed dissatisfaction with the perceived lack of support for their demonstration and criticized the university president’s email communications. Meanwhile, Beach Hillel raised concerns about the use of paragliding images by La Fuerza on campus and voiced worries about safety. 

During this time, I noticed a troubling increase in biased attitudes among the majority of ASI Senate members. As biases increased in ASI, I felt marginalized for being the sole non-Jewish ASI student supporting the Jewish community. Despite no direct confrontations, I observed ASI members actively avoiding and disengaging from me.

Fall semester passed without any of the student leaders confronting me. Then, in the spring semester, on March 20, 2024, a seemingly coordinated group of students attended the ASI Senate meeting, demanding my recall, citing my perceived absence at their cultural center. 

One of the students was from La Fuerza, along with a representative from another club, alleged that I had affiliations with repressive organizations that harassed campus cultural organizations, thus advocating for my recall. 

I was taken aback when presented with a vote of no confidence, which would be the basis of recall. Throughout my tenure, I dedicated myself to fulfilling campaign promises, such as implementing a TAP card program for students in need of transportation assistance, advocating for undocumented students, supporting increased Pell and Cal Grant, and endorsing various state bills.

This pattern of derogatory remarks persisted into the subsequent ASI Senate meeting on March 27, 2024. However, amidst these negative comments, members from Beach Hillel came forward to express their support for me. They affirmed that I had provided assistance and fostered a sense of belonging for Jewish students on campus. 

Additionally, a member of the Lebanese Student Association, representing a nationality currently in active conflict with Israel, voiced their support for me. They highlighted my involvement in inclusive events and emphasized that previous comments made against me were personal, biased, and untrue.

On March 29, 2024, an Instagram post surfaced on an anonymous account, previously associated with La Fuerza. The post referred to me as a “grifter” and included a photo of me alongside Jewish students on campus.

As student body president, it’s imperative for me to remain impartial. Our ASI voted to call for a ceasefire resolution during the CSSA meeting, reflecting the majority sentiment among students. 

Advocating for a ceasefire does not diminish our support for Jewish students on campus, nor does it suggest tolerance for antisemitism or lack of support from student government members. The Instagram post seems to be an attempt by La Fuerza and ASI Senators to undermine my relationship with the Jewish community by sharing a photo of me without consent.

Despite repeatedly expressing my concerns to the ASI Senate board chair about the perceived unfairness, my pleas were ignored, with the chair claiming to share the sentiments of the students.

After the unauthorized photograph, I felt increasingly vulnerable. Despite repeatedly expressing my concerns to the ASI Senate board chair about the perceived unfairness, my pleas were ignored, with the chair claiming to share the sentiments of the students.

Despite my efforts to address the situation, the ASI Senate Board persisted in their pursuit of my removal, with only one month remaining in my term. The disregard for my viewpoint and the hostile environment created around me contradicts the principles of SR 2020-16, highlighting a lack of accountability and deviation from stated values.

This was my first encounter with antisemitism and it’s puzzling that groups like La Fuerza, vocal against social injustice, are also among its biggest perpetrators. 

These experiences have taught me that facing harassment, intimidation, and social isolation can be the consequence of holding an unpopular opinion. No student should have to endure such treatment. As a result, I am now more determined than ever to advocate for communities that are underrepresented throughout my academic journey and are subject to harassment.

Mitali Jain serves as student body president for 2023-2024 at Cal State Long Beach, majoring in Nutrition and Dietetics. 

Hineni.
Here I am.

Since the first tents were pitched at USC, I heard: “where are our elected leaders in California? Why are they silent?”  But we are not silent.  Here we are.

I was among the first elected leaders in Los Angeles to condemn the takeover of our California university campuses – a result of failed education policies and billions in foreign funding of US higher education.

The next day, while Nancy Pelosi met with London Mayor Sadiq “Ceasefire” Khan, Speaker Mike Johnson and other House Republicans called for the Columbia University President’s resignation.  Later that day, the protestors at USC violently clashed with LAPD.  

Hamas released a statement supporting the campus protests.  

The day after that, California’s Republican United States Senate candidate Steve Garvey held a press conference in Beverly Hills, unequivocally characterizing the violent protests as terrorism.

The day after that, Chairman of the Republican Party of Los Angeles County, Timothy L. O’Reilly, condemned the antisemitism on local campuses, called for the rights of Jewish students to be protected, and supported the police in clearing the encampments.

The day after that, California GOP Chairperson Jessica Millan Patterson spoke out against the campus protests and in support of students who were being discriminated against.

Then the floodgates opened. California Assembly candidate Carl De Maio spoke up against the ignorance of the activists who are supporting Hamas, and condemned the “Jew haters.”  GOP California Assembly candidate Mike Greer condemned the Cal Poly Humbolt occupation.  California Assembly candidate Patrick Lee Gipson condemned the violence at UCLA.  UCLA alumnus, Congressional candidate Dr. Alex Balekian (running for Adam Schiff’s open seat), called for the “defunding” of student protesters who are U.S. Citizens, deportation of those who are not, and destruction of Hamas (his opponent, a Jewish woman, has remained silent).  

Congressional candidate and El Cajon Mayor, Bill Wells, constantly condemns antisemitism and supports Israel, which is more than his Jewish Democratic opponent can say. Congressperson Michelle Steel (Cypress) challenged her opponent’s silence, calling the pro-Hamas protests “one of the biggest issues facing our country right now.”  Congressman Ken Calvert (Corona) criticized UC Riverside for coming to “terms” with SJP.  Congressman Kevin Kiley (Rocklin) called for dismantling all campus encampments and consequences for federally-funded universities. (This would not be his first public statement on the subject.). California Republicans, all.

California Assembly Republicans issued a statement condemning “antisemitic campus disruptions” and called on officials to restore order.  Assembly Republican Leader James Gallagher (Chico) gave a press conference highlighting Gov. Newsom’s silence.

After Newsom voiced support for “peaceful protest,” the California GOP chronicled the myriad ways in which antisemitism had engulfed California campuses, and challenged several sitting California elected officials to condemn the violence, vandalism, trespassing, and antisemitism.  There was no answer.  (Well, one answered something about white supremacy.)

Garvey challenged Congressman Adam Schiff and Los Angeles District Attorney George Gascon on their silence when Jewish students were barred from attending classes at UCLA. There was no answer.

Los Angeles County Young Republicans released a statement demanding local leaders to restore order.  Several of my colleagues from the Los Angeles County Republican Central Committee were on social media and FOX News with similar messaging.  Not one California Republican leader that I know of was sympathetic to the campus protests.

In contrast to Republican leadership, when President Biden finally made a statement over a week after the protests started, he “All Lives Mattered” us, since he can never utter “antisemitism” without saying “Islamophobia” in the same sentence.  Newsom and Mayor Bass eventually made belated statements, but only after protesters and counter-protesters clashed at UCLA, providing them cover to chastise both sides at the same time so they would not seem to favor one group over the other.  

These are our leaders?

It appears to me the issue is not that our leaders are silent; rather, it is abundantly clear to me the issue is that we are looking for our leaders in the wrong place.

It appears to me the issue is not that our leaders are silent; rather, it is abundantly clear to me the issue is that we are looking for our leaders in the wrong place.  It’s past time for Jewish voters in California to start looking to the Right.  Your leaders are there.

Hineni.
Here I am.
Send me.

Elizabeth Barcohana was elected in March, 2024 to the Los Angeles County GOP Central Committee for the 42nd Assembly District.  Her term begins January, 2025.  Elizabeth currently serves as an alternate on the Committee and as an Associate Delegate to the California GOP. You can find her on Instagram @Elizabeth_For_LA.

Many Jews may be surprised to learn that a belief in Israelite ancestry is widespread among Black Americans in the United States today.  A recent survey found that 49% of Black respondents either somewhat or strongly agreed that Black Americans are descended from ancient Israelites, while only 13% of respondents felt that “modern-day Jews” do not have the same ancestry. This indicates that roughly a third of Black Americans believe in shared ancestry with modern-day Jews.

Where does this belief originate? While some Black Americans may identify with a spiritual connection with the Exodus story, others do so based on a genetic tie to the Igbo people in southeastern Nigeria. 

The Igbo – pronounced “Ee-bo”– have a long history of practicing customs similar to those of religiously observant Jews in other parts of the world, such as circumcision of males on the eighth day after birth and a custom of not eating fish without scales.  As anthropologist Daniel Lis describes in his book, “Jewish Identity Among the Igbo of Nigeria: Israel’s ‘Lost Tribe’ and the Question of Belonging in the Jewish State,” there is a longstanding oral tradition among the Igbo of Israelite descent.

The similarities between Igbo customs and Jewish rituals are so profound that Igbo historian Remy Ilona has noted that a Sephardic Beit Din ruled in 2022 that the Igbo are descendants of Israelites who were dispersed out of Israel during one of the many waves of expulsions throughout Jewish history.  

The similarities between Igbo customs and Jewish rituals are so profound that Igbo historian Remy Ilona has noted that a Sephardic Beit Din ruled in 2022 that the Igbo are descendants of Israelites who were dispersed out of Israel during one of the many waves of expulsions throughout Jewish history. This ruling was welcomed by many Igbo in Nigeria, some of whom have established synagogues and have begun to practice Judaism in its modern form. Filmmaker Jeff Lieberman profiles some of these emerging Jewish communities in his film “Re-emerging: The Jews of Nigeria.”  

In the United States, retired University of Southern Mississippi history professor Douglas Chambers, now head of the Igbo History Foundation, has estimated that as many as 60% of Black Americans today could have at least one Igbo ancestor. During the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade, about 1.3 million Igbo individuals were trafficked to British colonies, including Jamaica and what would later become the United States. 

The first English-language narrative of enslavement was written by Olaudah Equiano, an Igbo man who had been kidnapped into slavery and later freed. His narrative, published in 1789 in London, ultimately led to the British abolishment of the slave trade in 1807. It is likely that 19th-century abolitionist Frederick Douglass also had Igbo ancestry, as the majority of those enslaved in Maryland, where Douglass lived, were of Igbo origin. 

Regardless of its source, the belief in Israelite ancestry among Black Americans presents a unique opportunity in the fight against antisemitism. 

The Anti-Defamation League has found that among those who did not have any relationships with Jews or who viewed interactions with Jews negatively, there was a higher likelihood of agreeing with antisemitic statements. Given that Jews are less than 3% of the U.S. population, most Americans do not have the opportunity to have personal relationships with Jews. If the concept of “Jew” is extended to include those Black Americans identifying as Israelites, then it is possible that many more Americans will have the opportunity to interact with those of us who share a common descent from ancient Israel. 

This expansive view of “who is a Jew” also helps counteract the false claim that all Jews are white and are therefore not indigenous to Israel. Although the majority of Jews in the United States do identify as white and have recent ancestors who lived in Europe, globally there is much more racial diversity among the Jewish people, with about half of all Israeli Jews having recent ancestors who lived in the Middle East, North Africa, or Ethiopia. Embracing those Black Americans with Israelite identities would highlight Jewish diversity in the popular imagination.

What specific steps could the Jewish community take if it wanted to explore this path? First, we must stop labeling expression of Israelite identity in the Black community as antisemitic. As long as it does not include a rejection of the Israelite identity of other Jews too, or a claim that Black Israelites are the only real Jews, Israelite identity among Black Americans could be considered an expression of philosemitism, precisely what would bring us closer together.

Once Black Americans with Israelite identities feel able to openly discuss their Israelite heritage without fear of being labeled antisemitic, there will be many opportunities for bridge-building and alliance-forming. 

Once Black Americans with Israelite identities feel able to openly discuss their Israelite heritage without fear of being labeled antisemitic, there will be many opportunities for bridge-building and alliance-forming. This work could go a long way in introducing Jewish history to younger Americans who are not familiar with the history of ancient Israel.

Finally, the Jewish community should make a special effort to embrace those in the Black community who practice Judaism as part of congregations affiliated with the International Israelite Board of Rabbis. Members of Israelite Board congregations conduct religious services primarily in Hebrew using the ArtScroll siddur, the prayerbook associated with Orthodox Judaism. They keep kosher, observe Shabbat and other holidays, and send their children to Jewish day schools. They are not at all affiliated with the extremist Black Hebrew Israelites who reject the Israelite ancestry of modern-day Jews.

While members of Israelite Board congregations may not be considered halachically Jewish, neither are many white Jews, some of whom outwardly reject their own Israelite identity and give comfort to those who are promulgating erasure antisemitism, where the Jewish spiritual and historical connection to Israel is erased. In contrast, supporting Israel and its right to exist as a Jewish homeland are core beliefs of Black Jews who are part of Israelite Board congregations.

Rabbi Baruch Yehudah, spiritual leader of B’nai Adath Kol Beth Israel, an Israelite congregation in Brooklyn, is a regular attendee at Jewish communal events, including the March in Washington in support of Israel last November. Yet on the bus heading to D.C., a woman said to him, “Thank you for supporting us,” as if he was separate from the larger “us.” 

My hope is that Rabbi Yehudah and his congregants, as well as all Black Americans who consider themselves Israelites, will eventually be welcomed into a more expansive Jewish tent, at least as ancient cousins if not halachic brothers. Given that open Jew-hatred is becoming not just socially acceptable but increasingly on-trend, it would be wise for us to expand our concept of “Klal Yisrael” — the greater Jewish people — to truly include all Israelites.

Simone Friedman is the Head of Philanthropy for EJF Philanthropies.