search
David Sedley
Rabbi, teacher, author, husband, father

Dog whistles and antisemitism – Parshat Tetzaveh (Zachor)

Spiro Agnew (l) with Israeli Prime Minister Golda Meir. (Public Domain / Wikimedia Commons)
Spiro Agnew (l) with Israeli Prime Minister Golda Meir. (Public Domain / Wikimedia Commons)

This week, after the regular Torah portion of Tetzaveh, we read the verses from Deuteronomy 25:17-19, known as Zachor, which tell of Amalek’s unprovoked desert attack on the Israelites. We are commanded to always remember what Amalek did to us and never forget. We read this on the Shabbat before Purim, to remind us that Haman, the villain of the Purim story was a descendant of Amalek, and the hatred of his tribe remains until today.

Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik wrote in the name of his father that the designation of Amalek is not necessarily hereditary. Rather, anyone who attempts to destroy the Jewish nation has the status of Amalek. Writing in 1956 (in Kol Dodi Dofek), Rav Soloveitchik included the Nazis, with Hitler at their head . . . [and] the mobs of Nasser and the Mufti as contemporary expressions of Amalek. “They aspire to exterminate (God forbid) ‎the ‎‎Yishuv — men, women, children, infants, sheep, and cattle (cf: I Samuel 15:3)” To this list, we can surely add the Hamas terrorists, who’s covenant calls for Israel’s destruction.

When our enemies openly state their desire to kill the Jews, we identify them with Amalek. But how should we relate to those who never directly express antisemitism, but attack the foundations that maintain society, and thereby allow Jew hatred to flourish? For example, how should we think about Spiro Theodore Agnew, who served as the 39th Vice President of the United States from 1969 to 1973 under President Richard Nixon?

Spiro Agnew is sworn in as vice president in 1969. Front row, from left to right: Lyndon B. Johnson, Richard Nixon, Everett Dirksen, Spiro Agnew (with hand raised), Hubert Humphrey. (Public Domain/Wikimedia Commons)

Agnew’s political legacy is defined by his confrontational relationship with the media and a complex association with antisemitism that would shadow his career. Though he never explicitly expressed antisemitic views himself, his rhetoric and positioning attracted followers with such sentiments, creating a troubling dimension to his political footprint.

Born on November 9, 1918, in Baltimore, Maryland, Spiro Theodore Agnew was the son of a Greek immigrant father, Theophrastos Anagnostopoulos (who shortened the family name upon arrival in America), and an American mother, Margaret Akers. His mixed heritage would later become relevant to his complex relationship with minority groups and identity politics in America.

Agnew’s early life followed a conventional path. After serving in the US Army during World War II, he earned a law degree from the University of Baltimore and established himself as an attorney. His entrance into politics began at the local level, where he served on the Baltimore County Board of Zoning Appeals before being elected Baltimore County Executive in 1962.

His political ascension accelerated in 1966 when he won the Maryland gubernatorial race against Democrat George P. Mahoney, whose campaign had centered on opposition to open housing legislation. Ironically, Agnew, running as a moderate Republican, attracted liberal and African American voters who were repelled by Mahoney’s positions. As governor, Agnew initially maintained a moderate stance, supporting civil rights legislation and tax reforms.

However, his political ideology underwent a significant shift following the Baltimore riots after Martin Luther King Jr.’s assassination in 1968. Agnew’s harsh criticism of African American community leaders, whom he accused of failing to control the unrest, caught the attention of Richard Nixon, who was seeking a running mate for his 1968 presidential campaign. Nixon, recognizing Agnew’s potential appeal to the “silent majority” and Southern voters crucial to his “Southern Strategy,” selected the relatively unknown Maryland governor as his vice-presidential candidate.

The Nixon-Agnew ticket narrowly defeated the Democratic nominee Hubert Humphrey in 1968, catapulting Agnew to national prominence and setting the stage for his controversial vice presidency.

Once installed as Vice President, Agnew quickly established himself as the administration’s attack dog, particularly against what he and Nixon viewed as the liberal bias of the mainstream media. In a series of speeches crafted with the help of Nixon’s speechwriters, particularly William Safire and Patrick Buchanan, Agnew launched unprecedented verbal assaults on television networks and major newspapers.

The opening salvo came on November 13, 1969, in a televised speech in Des Moines, Iowa. Agnew criticized network television news as being dominated by a “small and unelected elite” who possessed a “profound influence over public opinion” without accountability. He famously referred to media commentators as “nattering nabobs of negativism” and “hopeless, hysterical hypochondriacs of history” in subsequent speeches.

Agnew’s critique centered on several key arguments. First, he claimed that news organizations, particularly the three major television networks (ABC, CBS, and NBC), wielded disproportionate power over public discourse. Second, he argued that these outlets were dominated by coastal elites out of touch with mainstream American values. Finally, he suggested that the media’s coverage was systematically biased against the Nixon administration and conservative viewpoints more broadly.

What made Agnew’s attacks particularly noteworthy was their unprecedented nature coming from such a high government official. As vice president, his criticisms carried the implicit weight of the administration, even as the White House maintained plausible deniability about specific attacks. The strategy represented a calculated effort to delegitimize critical media coverage of the administration’s policies, particularly regarding the Vietnam War.

Agnew’s rhetoric resonated powerfully with many Americans who felt alienated by cultural changes and distrusted established institutions. His speeches drew enthusiastic responses from conservative audiences who believed their values were being undermined by a hostile media establishment. The vice president became a conservative folk hero, with his popularity sometimes exceeding Nixon’s among certain segments of the Republican base.

Media organizations responded with alarm to what they perceived as an attempt to intimidate the press and undermine its constitutionally protected role. Journalists pointed out that Agnew’s attacks coincided with attempts to discredit reporting about administrative failures and the increasingly unpopular Vietnam War. The confrontation represented an early manifestation of the culture wars that would come to define American politics in subsequent decades.

While he served as vice president, Agnew never made explicit antisemitic statements. In fact, Safire wrote later (The Agnew of before and after. NY Times March 24, 1976):

As one who wrote many of Agnew’s speeches in the 1970 campaign… let me offer some sad reflections.

The Ted Agnew of 1970 was neither anti-Zionist nor anti-Semitic. On the contrary, like most Nixon men, he shared an admiration for the patriotism and courage of the Israelis — “moxie,” it was then called in the Cabinet room — and throughout his political career, many of his associates and staff members were often Jews.

However, Agnew’s baseless conspiracy theories gave enough hints that the most venomous antisemites thought they understood his message and flocked to support him.

Gerald L. K. Smith speaks to press, attacking New Deal. (Public Domain / Wikimedia Commons)

Gerald L. K. Smith, founder of the America First Party, a Holocaust denier and described as, “the most persistently successful of America’s anti-Jewish propagandists” was a big fan of Agnew’s opinions. He heard Agnew’s attacks on the media, which frequently emphasized the concentration of media ownership and influence in New York and Washington, and understood these were cities with significant Jewish populations and institutions. Agnew’s references to an “Eastern Establishment” or “media elite” controlling information resonated with longstanding antisemitic tropes about Jewish control of media and financial institutions, even without explicit mention of Jews.

The vice president’s use of phrases like “small and unelected elite” who “decide what forty to fifty million Americans will learn” echoed traditional antisemitic conspiracy theories about hidden Jewish influence. While Agnew himself carefully avoided making any direct connection to Jewish identity, Smith, and his hundreds of thousands of supporters, heard the message and aligned themselves with the vice president.

Evidence of this problematic attraction appeared in the letters Agnew received from supporters. Archives of correspondence reveal that some who wrote to praise his media critiques explicitly connected his points to antisemitic beliefs, often assuming the vice president shared their views. These supporters frequently made the leap from Agnew’s criticism of “liberal media elites” to explicit complaints about “Jewish control” of television and newspapers.

While Agnew maintained public relationships with Jewish colleagues and never endorsed antisemitism, he also never strongly repudiated the antisemitic interpretations some supporters projected onto his rhetoric.

Historians note that this pattern—of using language that could be interpreted innocently while carrying coded significance to certain audiences—represented an early example of what would later be termed “dog-whistle politics” in American discourse. The technique allowed plausible deniability while still activating particular biases among receptive listeners.

Agnew’s vice presidency ended in disgrace when investigations revealed he had accepted bribes from contractors during his time as Baltimore County Executive and Governor of Maryland. The kickback scheme had continued even while he served as vice president. Facing mounting evidence and potential criminal charges beyond tax evasion, Agnew resigned on October 10, 1973, becoming the second vice president in American history to resign from office (after John C. Calhoun in 1832).

After leaving office, Agnew’s relationship with antisemitism became more problematic. In his 1980 memoir, “Go Quietly…or Else,” and in later statements, he made comments suggesting that “Zionist influences” had contributed to his political downfall, edging closer to explicit antisemitism than during his time in office. In a 1976 letter to former president Nixon, he complained about “the Zionist influences in the United States” and claimed the same forces were controlling the American media.

Spiro Agnew’s brief but consequential vice presidency established patterns that continue to resonate in American politics. His attacks on media presaged the deep distrust of mainstream news sources that has become commonplace in conservative circles. The strategy of delegitimizing unfavorable coverage rather than engaging with its substance has become a standard political tactic.

The ambiguous relationship between Agnew’s rhetoric and antisemitism illustrates the complex ways coded language can activate bias without explicit statements. This deniable activation of prejudice has become a recurring feature of political communication across the ideological spectrum.

Agnew’s rise and fall also demonstrates the dangers of populist appeals that target elites while engaging in corrupt practices. The contradiction between his public persona as a champion of ordinary Americans and his private acceptance of bribes exemplifies the gap that can exist between political messaging and personal conduct.

Perhaps most significantly, Agnew’s vice presidency marked an important moment in the Republican Party’s transformation from the party of Lincoln to a coalition increasingly defined by opposition to cultural elites, media institutions, and changing social norms. His combative approach to political enemies and unapologetic conservatism foreshadowed the more confrontational style that would later define figures like Newt Gingrich and Donald Trump.

We are used to thinking of the defining characteristic of Amalek as explicit hatred of the Jews. But when we look at the words of Haman, we find that he was more subtle. When he seeks King Ahasuerus’s approval to murder the Jews, he never mentions his target explicitly. But he does use corruption to convince the king (Esther 3:8-9):

Haman then said to King Ahasuerus, “There is a certain people, scattered and dispersed among the other peoples in all the provinces of your realm, whose laws are different from those of any other people and who do not obey the king’s laws; and it is not in Your Majesty’s interest to tolerate them.

If it please Your Majesty, let an edict be drawn for their destruction, and I will pay ten thousand talents of silver to the stewards for deposit in the royal treasury.

Haman had plausible deniability and so did Ahasuerus. We have no explicit statement from the king of his own desire to destroy the Jews. But he appointed Haman to a position of power and chose to turn a blind eye to the antisemitism within his kingdom. Ahasuerus never even explicitly agreed to Haman’s plan. He simply, “removed his signet ring from his hand and gave it to Haman.”

When Queen Esther denounces Haman’s plot, the text depicts the king as genuinely surprised:

Queen Esther replied: “If Your Majesty will do me the favor, and if it pleases Your Majesty, let my life be granted me as my wish, and my people as my request.

For we have been sold, my people and I, to be destroyed, massacred, and exterminated. Had we only been sold as bondmen and bondwomen, I would have kept silent; for the adversary-a is not worthy of the king’s trouble.”

Thereupon King Ahasuerus demanded of Queen Esther, “Who is he and where is he who dared to do this?”

“Who is he?” asks the king. Ahasuerus never called for the destruction of the Jews. He never explicitly gave Haman permission to commit genocide.
Yet Ahasuerus created an environment where antisemitism was allowed to flourish unchecked. Where Haman’s edict for genocide was not opposed by the general population. Where Haman had thousands of supporters all awaiting the moment they could murder the Jews throughout the kingdom.

The Hasidic masters point out that the numerical value of “Amalek” is the same as the value of the word “safek” – doubt. Amalek’s strength is in sowing doubt. Amalek attacks the Israelites when they express doubt as to whether God is in their midst (Exodus 17:7). The Talmud (Chullin 139b) asks where we find an allusion to Haman in the Torah. It answers that he appears with the very first question asked by God of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden – “Have you eaten of [hamin] the tree, about which I commanded you that you should not eat?” (Genesis 3:11).

Amalek and Haman succeed because others allow them to. They allow latent antisemitism to rise to the surface. By raising doubts, by challenging the reliability of information, by spreading conspiracy theories, their followers are given a green light to attack Jews.

Sometimes, leaders like Ahasuerus do not need to explicitly target Jews. It is enough for them to blow the dog whistle and others will do the antisemitism for them.

I’ll end with another quote from William Safire, Agnew’s Jewish speech writer:

This new prejudice fitted neatly into an old and fruitful hatred: the media. Mouth-filling diatribes against the press (no, I didn’t write those) were what made him famous; now he has a fresh angle, a newsworthy slant. Not only was the media too powerful, as he had long said, but it is Jewish-dominated.

Hating individual Jews does not make you a bigot. Being anti-Israel does not make you a bigot. But undertaking a crusade to persuade the American people that they are being brainwashed and manipulated by a cabal of Jews who sit astride most of the channels of communication — and thereby encouraging an irrational hatred of Jews — that makes you a bigot.

I highly recommend Rachel Maddow Presents Ultra, a podcast about pro-Nazi antisemitism at the highest levels of US politics from the 1930s to 1960s. I also just started listening to her series Bag Man, and the first episode is about Spiro Agnew.

Join me on Tuesday nights on WebYeshiva for a class on Al Hanissim in the Shemoneh Esrei.

About the Author
David Sedley lives in Jerusalem with his wife and children. He has been at various times a teacher, translator, author, community rabbi, journalist and video producer. He currently teaches online at WebYeshiva. Born and bred in New Zealand, he is usually a Grinch, except when the All Blacks win. And he also plays a loud razzberry-colored electric guitar. Check out my website, rabbisedley.com
Related Topics
Related Posts