We Should Aim Higher Than ‘Not Quite Antisemitic'”
In the fight against antisemitism, we often are faced with a binary. “Is this or is this not antisemitic?” This black and white test of hatred has split our community and turned our quest for safety and belonging into a battle between sides instead of a collective struggle. It’s an easy binary. It’s also a false one.
This binary impacts one type of issue in particular: the edge case. There are times when an advocate or politician or commentator will do or say something that isn’t quite antisemitic. It’s couched in enough protective language that it doesn’t satisfy any definition of antisemitism, but it gives Jews pause. Supporters of that person’s end goals will say “that’s not antisemitic and how dare you claim it is?” Opponents of that person’s end goals will say “that’s clearly antisemitic and how dare you claim it isn’t?” And the polarization gets wider. Meanwhile, the actor can say “this technically isn’t antisemitic” and be correct. But something can not be antisemitic in a vacuum and still risk feeding antisemitism.
Take for example the Brooklyn coffee shop that retroactively denied service to Dan Goldman, claiming that they did not want business from someone that takes money from AIPAC or otherwise supports Israel. Was it antisemitic to deny a Jewish congressman service because of his support for Israel and financial support from AIPAC? Maybe. Maybe not. Some might feel that taking financial support to back Israel is an extension of Goldman’s Jewish identity and that it thus probably qualifies as antisemitism. For others who see support for Israel as distinct or at least separable from Jewishness, the answer is probably not. These edge cases become Rorschach tests instead of easily categorizable academic exercises.
But even if it’s not clearly or explicitly antisemitic—even if we can’t or shouldn’t really call it antisemitism at all—it’s still fostering an environment that’s less inclusive to Jews of all stripes. Just because something isn’t antisemitism doesn’t mean it’s okay. I received messages from Jews in Brooklyn who now likely won’t go to that shop even though they’re ardently opposed to the Israeli government’s actions. Who wants to feel like they need to share that they’re against Netanyahu or bombs before ordering a latte? And who’s to say that a litmus test won’t be extended to them? This is despite the fact that, in some of the same conversations I’ve had about this incident, we’ve discussed how we wouldn’t call the shop antisemitic but we also wouldn’t necessarily call it welcoming.
Many forms of hatred and prejudice survive by existing just within acceptable boundaries. The standard can’t end at “can I defend this statement against a charge of bigotry?” We need to ask ourselves “what kind of social environment am I creating?” and “how do I expand my coalition or movement instead of siloing it?”
I am not trying to say that this is the most pressing issue of the day or even the one that I’m most concerned with, which is, without a doubt, the extreme right, a haven for neo-Nazis and white supremacists. I’ve written extensively about my experience seeing protesters in Nazi garb marching through my neighborhood to the Capitol on January 6th and how it made me fear a reprisal of the horrors my grandmother faced in the Holocaust.
But even with all of that said, as a progressive Jew, I do not always feel progressive spaces are offering a safe haven from those that threaten my community. This is where these disquieting edge cases play in. Some leading advocates may not be outwardly antisemitic and go to great lengths to avoid crossing that line. That effort itself is good and it is appreciated when people are conscious of not being explicitly bigoted. But when a Jewish person is faced with questions about our relationship with Zionism (that are not asked of other potential coalition partners) as a pretense before we are welcome in a political movement, it makes our acceptance conditional on litmus tests. That doesn’t just hurt Jews. It hurts movements. It chills the desire to join coalitions by a large, reliably progressive demographic with a history of strong support for civil rights and democratic freedoms.
I am not arguing that Jews respond to this by isolating ourselves. I am writing this because I believe the exact opposite. I don’t think Jews need to circle the wagons and wall ourselves off from the fight for pluralism and universal acceptance and prosperity for all. I know that a strong democracy built on diversity and multiculturalism is where Jews have historically been the most secure. And I’m concerned by some of our communal leaders who want to abandon our community’s longheld values because some in progressive circles are taking opposition to Israel too far. Giving up our seat at the table just ensures there will be no one at that table to make our case. Now is the time to redouble our efforts into creating the welcoming world we know everyone, including Jews, deserves. If we sacrifice that fight for justice and equality, we sacrifice a core part of our values and tradition.
What I also believe is that advocates and political leaders need to be clear-eyed in their welcoming of Jews and in pushing back on the “just barely not antisemitic” edge cases. We should be aiming for more than “technically not antisemitic.” You don’t have to say something is explicit Jew hatred to say it’s wrong and unhelpful to the cause. These edge cases taking up space in the national conversation are turning away the persuadable middle of the political spectrum. They’re distracting from the myriad important issues facing our country and its skid toward authoritarianism. And they’re creating an environment that harms Jewish participation that has long helped bend the moral arc of the universe toward good.
