Why is antisemitism a political football?

Antisemitism is vile and virulently dangerous. In the hands of skilled politicians, it’s also malleable.

Imagine a solemn day of remembrance of the Holocaust at Auschwitz, where the echoes of history's darkest chapters whisper through the remnants of tragedy. Now, add a modern twist: a small contingent of pro-Palestinian protesters outside, their flags stirring up political controversy that has been simmering since Hamas' attacks last October.

Back in Israel, in this charged atmosphere, Prime Minister Netanyahu commemorates Holocaust Remembrance Day not just to remember the dead but to justify military action in Rafah.

Hijacking the ceremony at Auschwitz is beyond gross insensitivity, but a misguided form of hatred and antisemitism. But by framing military aggression as a necessary act of survival. Netanyahu also politicizes a day meant for mourning and misuses historical memory to justify current political agendas. It’s a growing trend that not only undermines the real battle against antisemitism but also diminishes the true weight of one of history's darkest chapters.

In the United States, the narrative becomes even more convoluted, as President Joe Biden’s efforts to address rising antisemitism this week illustrated. At the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum's annual Days of Remembrance, Biden linked the horrors of the Holocaust to the "ferocious surge" of antisemitism that "lies deep in the hearts of too many" but was triggered by the Hamas attacks.

Biden's remarks underscored his commitment to Israel's security and his ironclad support for its right to exist, even as he strives to honor his promise to combat antisemitism domestically. He acknowledges the brutal reality of the October 7 attacks by Hamas, paralleling these modern atrocities with historical ones while advocating for a nuanced understanding that criticism of Israeli policy is not inherently antisemitic.

His speech was heartfelt, his condemnation strong, yet one couldn't help but feel the political undertones. Biden’s condemnation of antisemitism also subtly addressed criticisms of his administration's policies, illustrating the tightrope of maintaining political support while genuinely addressing hate.

Let’s not forget that Biden is also running for reelection. His campaign’s Holocaust remembrance statements this week aimed at combating antisemitism at times felt less like solemn tributes and more like subtle digs at predecessors. "Never Again," it seems, is occasionally followed by “and let’s not forget who’s not doing enough about it.”

That would be Donald Trump, whose pejorative label of the Biden administration as a “Gestapo administration” represents a disturbing trivialization of the Holocaust's real horrors and the systematic nature of the oppression executed by the Nazis and manipulates the Jewish community’s pain for partisan points.

Let’s not kid ourselves—antisemitism, a genuine and deep-seated hatred of Jews, is vile and virulently dangerous. But in the hands of skilled political artisans, it’s also malleable. Congress is considering legislation that adopts an overly broad definition of antisemitism, potentially curbing free speech by labeling most scrutiny of Israeli policies as antisemitic. This overextension trivializes real antisemitism and allows for the scapegoating of legitimate political discourse as hateful—protecting policies from scrutiny under the guise of combating hatred. It’s the political equivalent of crying wolf, only the wolf is draped in a complex historical cloak that should command genuine reverence, not provide cover for policy debates.

It is essential to distinguish between antisemitism and political discourse. Criticism of a government's actions does not inherently equate to hostility toward its people or their ethnicity. When actions taken by a state—such as the severe humanitarian impact of policies in Gaza—are shielded from scrutiny by labeling dissenters as antisemitic, it not only trivializes real antisemitism but also harms the broader fight against it.

Nowhere is this debate more heated than on college campuses. While it is undeniable that some protests have included appalling antisemitic slurs and actions that have made Jewish students feel unsafe on campus, many of the broader student movements stem from a place of social justice, focusing on sympathy for the Palestinian cause. The blanket labeling of all these movements as antisemitic may offer a convenient detour around meaningful debate of Israel’s policies but also inadvertently turns a self-fulfilling prophecy into reality, where the backlash against such accusations stokes the flames of antisemitism it purports to extinguish.

Globally, Jewish students and communities are getting quite the raw deal. Many Jews feel alienated and hurt not only by traditional antisemitism but also by policies enacted in their name that they may not support and have no influence over. The Israeli government's actions and the global political manipulation of Jewish suffering risk alienating many from the discourse on their own identity and history.

The memory of the Holocaust must be honored with the integrity it deserves, and efforts to combat antisemitism must be taken without capitulating to the temptations of political expediency. “Never Again” should be a solemn vow to resist the horrors of the past, not a rhetorical shield for policy justification.

In a world brimming with genuine hatred, diluting the definition of antisemitism doesn’t just undermine historical truth—it endangers future generations. In the end, if we're to truly honor the victims and learn from history, we must do more than remember—we must understand, reflect, and engage in honest, sometimes uncomfortable conversations. When memory becomes a tool rather than a testament, we risk losing not just the lessons of the past but also the moral compass necessary to navigate our present.