Anti-Semitism in American politics; a wider view of recent incidents

Joshua Stein
9 min readMar 5, 2019

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The discussion of Rep. Ilhan Omar (D-MN)’s anti-Semitic tweets won’t go away. A report from Politico indicates that Majority Leader Steny Hoyer (D-MD) is drafting a resolution condemning anti-Semitism; that resolution focuses on the reading of Omar’s comments that certain activists have a greater loyalty to Israel than to the United States. The case of Omar’s comments is a bit tricky for me, for two reasons. I hold the unpopular opinion among many of my more liberal friends and colleagues that Omar’s comments are pretty clear cases of appeals to anti-Semitic tropes; I also see pretty plainly that most of the criticism of Omar (especially from the right) results from a racist and misogynistic double standard, and the application of this standard is the only reason the story has carried in the media cycle for as long as it has.

Kevin McCarthy’s tweet on Soros, Steyer, and Bloomberg; since deleted.

I don’t really want to talk about Omar, except to acknowledge the first point and to put her comments in the context of anti-Semitism in contemporary American political life; in that context, they are relatively minor. They are similar to many other instances of euphemistic utterances, including several from Omar’s house colleagues on the other side of the aisle, and far less worrisome than many other instances that have received far less attention than Omar’s tweets.

Part of the goal of this piece is to acknowledge that, while anti-Semitic euphemism and trope is a problem, it is far from the only problem and frequently distracts from other public instances that are far more likely to either allow, influence, or provoke anti-Semitic violence. The division offered here is a way of considering the form and severity of the instances under consideration. First, we have actions that do not direct hatred against Jewish people proper, but are unambiguously culturally insensitive and offensive (these I don’t even think should be called “anti-Semitic”). Second, we have cases where individuals make use of tropes and euphemisms and are parasitic on dangerous Jewish stereotypes. Third, we have associations that lend credibility to explicitly anti-Semitic figures, thereby increasing the profile and influence of outright anti-Semites. Fourth, we have policy proposals that make it harder to prevent and prosecute anti-Semitic incidents (and other hate crimes, generally). Fifth, we have the advocacy of outright anti-Semitic conspiracies as a way of inciting and directing anti-Semitic violence.

That’s a lot of ground to cover, and (since this is the internet) I will do so fairly quickly, but all of these have a significant role in American political life in 2019, and it is important to understand the context in order to make sense of the cases that are prominent in the media, and whether those cases in the media are as important as their prominent placement (and longevity in the news cycle) suggests.

There’s a set of incidents at which I just want to wave a hand, to acknowledge that they may be seen as “anti-Semitic” but are really just culturally insensitive. They often touch on historically problematic areas, though do so in ways that are clearly bone-headed and benign, rather than likely to result in harm. The most prominent instance in recent political memory is Vice President Pence inviting a “messianic Jewish rabbi” on stage at a rally in Michigan; some folks argue that “messianic Judaism” is an anti-Semitic enterprise appropriating Jewish culture and trappings to subversively pressure Jewish individuals into becoming Christian. (I think that critique is basically right, though I’m not sure if “messianic Judaism” counts as “anti-Semitic” or simply immoral, but that’s a subject for another time.)

Mike Pence’s decision was a bad one; it was culturally insensitive and ridiculous, but it seems implausible that the incident would motivate malice towards or violence against Jewish people. Instead of an anti-Semitic incident, this is more of a cultural faux pas. Offensive? Definitely. But more in the Michele Bachmann butchering the word “chutzpah” way (albeit a few orders of magnitude worse).

Now we come to the first fairly standard set of instances of anti-Semitic activity in American politics: the anti-Semitic euphemisms and tropes. This is where Omar’s incidents on twitter fall; of course, Omar is in good company. Since Omar’s tweet, Rep. Jim Jordan (R-OH) decided to refer to patrilineal Jewish billionaire and activist Tom Steyer with a dollar sign in front of his name, which many regard as a standard appeal to the “Jewish money and influence trope”; Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy (R-CA) went whole hog on that trope a while back suggesting that a group of conspicuously Jewish billionaires were trying to “buy the election”; President Donald Trump did this in posting a meme about Hillary Clinton, though he claimed afterwards that he thought it was a six-pointed Sheriff’s badge rather than a Star of David.

Set aside the question of whether these political leaders knew what they were doing when they tweeted these things; all maintain that they didn’t understand or intend the anti-Semitic interpretations. That’s (to varying extents) plausible as the whole point of coded language is to give speakers who are caught deniability, and it serves that function in each of these cases. However, what’s more interesting in each case is the interpretation; are there folks listening in the tweeter’s audience who will draw the relevant anti-Semitic interpretations? Given the profile of all of these figures (that is: national political figure), the answer is “duh.”

We may reasonably disagree about which of these instances are the most egregious, which provide the least grounds for claims of deniability by the politician, etc. In any case, they provide some continuance of existing anti-Semitic stereotypes in contemporary culture; their influence on any acts of violence is indirect, filtered through the interpretations of their readers and the dual-meaning of these coded phrases. For this reason, this is a pernicious form of anti-Semitic content, but not as dangerous as much of the other content that has not generated the same amount of media scrutiny.

I wish I could say that was the end of the list, that the only anti-Semitism in American politics is the use of euphemisms on twitter and the occasional press statement. But that’s not so. Perhaps the one that comes up the most in the discussion of Democratic politicians is the discussion of some black politicians who have been associated with Louis Farrakhan; Farrakhan is definitely an anti-Semite, and has had some historical influence on politics within black communities, but as black politicians came to national prominence, some disavowed Farrakhan directly, or generally criticized and distanced themselves from anti-Semitic remarks in the Nation of Islam. Still, photographs with Farrakhan circulate as evidence of Democratic politicians’ associations with Farrakhan.

The instances of this on the right are more recent; unsurprisingly, Rep. Steve King (R-IO) has a long history of these associations, from meetings with white supremacist groups in Europe to promoting the candidacy of white supremacist Faith Goldy for Mayor of Toronto. (During the course of the Omar story, King has again tweeted content from Goldy.) Perhaps the most infamous incident is the time Rep. Matt Gaetz (R-FL) invited Holocaust denier Chuck Johnson to the 2018 State of the Union; Gaetz simultaneously held that he did not know Johnson’s history and maintained (wrongly) that Johnson was not a Holocaust denier.

The elevation of these figures may at first seem innocuous and innocent, but it is important to keep in mind that many white supremacist figures have used platforms to bolster their legitimacy; the use of that legitimacy is to offer support for whatever their preferred theory is, whether Jewish financial and political control, end times prophecy, or your standard racial superiority literature. Pictures with and support from sitting members of congress are not the only way (or even the primary way) to build that legitimacy, but it certainly helps.

Perhaps the one area that sees almost no mainstream press attention, and certainly far less than is appropriate, is the political advocacy and implementation of policies that directly or indirectly benefit anti-Semites, either by insulating them from prosecution or by reducing measures to prevent and enforce hate crimes. This is an area where the Trump administration has been particularly worrisome, as I’ve noted elsewhere. The Trump administration went an awfully long time before naming Elan Carr to the post of Special Envoy, head of the Office to Monitor and Combat Anti-Semitism, a delay that received bi-partisan criticism and a concurrent resolution urging the administration to fill the post.

More disconcerting to me, though, is the measures that have been taken to reduce funding for law enforcement and non-profit efforts to combat white supremacist domestic extremism; there was some discussion of this decision early on in the administration, but this interest tapered off as stories about the details of appropriations and management aren’t particularly exciting news. (There has been criticism of Trump’s rhetoric on the subject, but less focused on the policy shortcomings.)

Recently, there has been renewed attention to the attempts by white supremacist extremist groups to recruit ex-military and law enforcement personnel, particularly following the arrest of would-be terrorist Christopher Hasson. But the likelihood of substantial Defense Department initiatives to combat this problem is low, as it is politically unpopular to acknowledge that military personnel are susceptible to such recruitment, either during their service or afterwards.

Perhaps one of the most offensive things about the Hoyer resolution ostensibly condemning Omar (although not by name), and similar rhetorical outbursts by members of Congress, is that congressional leaders are well position to act on these issues, to make substantive policy proposals; some iterations of those proposals might actually be both beneficial and political popular across both parties (or, at least, I hope that they would be popular when I can bring myself to feel optimistic). Instead, there is a rhetorical resolution to criticize a particular trope, rather than empowering substantive opposition to violent extremism. This is a fairly robust area of policy failure from both the current administration and from both congressional caucuses.

One note of optimism, albeit not a particularly reassuring one: It seems like euphemism is still politically necessary for expressions of anti-Semitic sentiment, because the folks who do say pretty direct and incendiary anti-Semitic stuff are generally regarded as pariahs. There were a large number of open white supremacist candidates running for election (exclusively in GOP primaries, so far as I can tell) and all faced fairly significant opposition from within their own party once their anti-Semitism became noteworthy. Arthur Jones ran for Congress in Illinois, winning an uncontested GOP primary, but lost the general; Patrick Little ran for Senate in the primary in California (Little ran as a Republican, but California has a jungle primary), and was crushed once his views became public; Paul Nehlen ran for Congress in Wisconsin and lost in the primary.

The one worrisome case here is Corey Stewart, though Stewart was not so much anti-Semitic as a neo-Confederate, racist, misogynist, and homophobe. (He did note finding Nehlen an inspiration, so he at least falls in the relevant associative circle.) Stewart did win the GOP primary in the 2018 Virginia Senate race, though lost by 16 points in the general election to Tim Kaine. Stewart, though, didn’t make waves for any explicit anti-Semitism, but rather for racism, which may be something of an indication of the relative severity of political consequences for racism in American political life.

So, I guess the upshot here is that very overt instances of anti-Semitism are still socially regarded as politically toxic. That isn’t much reassurance, but it is noteworthy for the moment, especially in the event that there starts to be some change. (There are countries in Europe where overt anti-Semitism does not have this effect.)

The broader social context is the increase in anti-Semitic hate crimes, and hate crimes across the board, as documented variously by law enforcement and non-profit groups. With that in mind, there is an especially strong argument for vigilance about the anti-Semitic speech of political leaders. There are concerns that public expressions can contribute to or influence hate crimes. Conspiracy theories, including anti-Semitic expressions that fall into the spheres above, influenced Robert Bowers, Cesar Sayoc, and Christopher Hasson. They influence other hate crimes (e.g. vandalism).

It would be good to have a substantive political discussion around how to address anti-Semitism, how to address various forms of bigotry and violent extremism, but given the handling of existing cases in the popular press, I am cynical. The focus on Ilhan Omar rather than the broad range of anti-Semitic expressions from high profile politicians speaks poorly of how our biases inform the subjects of criticism; the lack of interest in substantive solutions speaks poorly of the political will to use anti-Semitism as anything more than a partisan cudgel.

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Joshua Stein

Postdoctoral Fellow at Georgetown University. Ph.D. in Philosophy, working on ethics, economics, antisemitism, and other pressing issues.