Massacre at Pittsburgh synagogue reflects white supremacist attitude


On Thursday, I joined with hundreds from the Youngstown area, people of various faiths and without religion, representing our region’s rich ethnic diversity, to mourn the 11 Jewish victims of last Saturday’s massacre. In the sanctuary of Temple El Emeth, we pledged unity to each other in the face of hate. I offer my gratitude for much needed comfort.

For what, however, have we come together? Politics motivated the attack in Pittsburgh, and so our response thereto must be political as well. We inherited a country forged in white supremacy and struggle daily with its consequences. When we say that anti-semitism and racism have no place in America, we describe a country of our aspirations, not one we can yet enjoy.

White nationalist thought

The person who murdered 11 Jews last week revealed in his words and deeds the place of anti-semitism in white nationalist thought. Following a tradition with long American and European roots, white supremacists believe that “the Jews” conspiratorially wield vast and hidden power, which they use to undermine white or Western civilization for their own benefit.

This fantasy of power, which distinguishes anti-semitism from other bigotries, helps white supremacists explain how members of purportedly lower races can threaten a supposedly superior white race. White nationalists accuse Jews of perpetrating a “white genocide” by supporting immigration and by promoting multiculturalism and “race mixing.” This reveals the inherent misogyny of the movement as well, which objectifies white women as vessels for the propagation of their “race” and portrays black men and men of color as sexually dangerous.

In this case, the killer believed that the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society, which has helped settle immigrants and refugees since 1881, sought to bring non-whites into this country to perpetrate violence against whites. He did not distinguish between “the Jews” and any Jew. He similarly saw those people seeking safety in our country as an undivided mass of threatening brown bodies.

President Donald Trump (and other conservatives, though not all) continues to portray a human-rights crisis on our southern border as an invasion. Following well established anti-semitic tropes, he has sought to undermine progressive causes – including the duty to help those very refugees – by attributing them to a secretive and disloyal cabal that he calls “globalists.”

You should learn to hear “Jews.” When he and others invoke George Soros, you should know that Soros has taken the place of the Rothschilds in contemporary anti-semitic myth. You should know that Jews belong to a multi-racial, multi-ethnic, and poly-cultural community.

While I can only speculate about what President Trump believes, it is obvious that he is happy to use racism and anti-semitism for political advantage. For some, this has lent presidential legitimacy to white supremacy. He also defunded federal programs for preventing attacks like the one we just suffered. I am not comforted that this may be a political ploy. At the presidential level, effects matter far more than intentions.

We should have a vigorous debate about how to balance our commitments to our fellow citizens and to the rest of the world, including to refugees fleeing the economic and ecological disasters born of the globalized system from which we benefit.

White supremacist violence

Yet we must reject categorically the racist and anti-semitic frameworks of perception emanating from the White House that will lead to only more violence. We must learn to see the attack in Pittsburgh as part of the history of white supremacist violence, rather than as the actions of a “lone-wolf.”

We must unite not as an indivisible mass of Americans, but as members of intersecting communities with distinct privileges and disadvantages, whose fates are deeply intertwined.

Dr. Jacob Ari Labendz is the director of the Center for Judaic and Holocaust Studies at Youngstown State University, where he is the Clayman assistant professor in the Department of History.