In a bitterly divided country, an unsettling series of unknowns for Jews

In a bitterly divided country, an unsettling series of unknowns for Jews

Republican president-elect Donald Trump delivers his acceptance speech during his election night party at the New York Hilton Midtown in Manhattan. (Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images)
Republican president-elect Donald Trump delivers his acceptance speech during his election night party at the New York Hilton Midtown in Manhattan. (Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images)

Chief among the takeaways for the Jewish community from the election: Donald J. Trump, and the class he represents — anxious, resentful, and ready to make radical changes — once was largely invisible to Jews.

That is about to change irrevocably.

Here are some questions Trump’s showing raise:

Donald Trump says good things about Israel. He also plays up conspiracy theories that anti-Semites embrace. Can those two things be tweaked apart?

Trump won Florida, by a hair’s breadth.

Campaigning hard for the state, he sought the support of its substantial Jewish community, in part by pivoting from relative coolness to Israel at the outset of his campaign to aligning with a right-wing pro-Israel posture by its end: Bashing the Iran nuclear deal, swearing to recognize Jerusalem as Israel’s capital, retreating from emphasizing a two-state solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

“We will stand strong, we have to stand strong with the State of Israel in their fight against Islamic terrorists,” Trump told a rally Monday morning in Sarasota. He bashed President Barack Obama’s record on Israel.

Three weeks earlier, same state, West Palm Beach: In a speech, Trump indicted Clinton as part of a secret conspiracy involving international banks seeking global control. These are tropes straight out of the anti-Semitic canon.

“Hillary Clinton meets in secret with international banks to plot the destruction of U.S. sovereignty in order to enrich these global financial powers, her special interest friends and her donors,” he said.

Last Friday, he ran a final statement video ad, featuring excerpts of the speech — and this time attaching three famous Jewish faces to it (although once again he did not mention the word “Jew” or name Jews as a class).

The speech and ad culminated a campaign pocked with similar dog whistles, including Trump’s use of images on Twitter that originated on anti-Semitic websites. In debates and speeches, several times Trump invoked the names of little-known Jewish advisers to Clinton as emblematic of nefariousness.

Anti-Semites on the alt-right eagerly perked up at what sounded like whistles to them.

It’s tempting to liken this dilemma to the one Jews faced under President Richard Nixon, who was obsessed with what he believed to be the conspiracies against him by American Jews, but who adored their Israeli cousins. (And who also had trusted Jewish advisers, including his secretary of state, Henry Kissinger.) Jews survived Nixon, and still thank him for the massive airlift of arms during the 1973 Yom Kippur War.

But it’s different with Trump. Whatever Nixon’s weirdness about Jews, it did not permeate his campaigns; it became evident years later, as tapes he recorded became public, and they turned out to be peppered with anti-Jewish epithets.

Moreover, Nixon was a relative liberal when it came to other minorities. It is true that under him the Republican Party pursued a “Southern strategy,” sending coded messages to white racists. But his policies, including desegregation and investing in the rise of a black middle class, would seem progressive today.

Trump, by contrast, hardly has been coded in his messages he sends about other minorities, especially Hispanics and Muslims, but blacks as well. And there’s also the matter of his record of misogynistic comments.

That presents a host of dilemmas for Jews, conceivably forcing them to weigh their American identity, forged through a close association with the civil rights and feminist movements, and their loyalty to Israel. Cozying up to Trump as a means of keeping Israel on his good side likely would be seen as a betrayal among considerable swathes of the Hispanic, African American, and Muslim communities, constituencies Jewish and pro-Israel organizations have been eager to cultivate in recent years.

Israel is the Jewish homeland. Israel also is foreign. Does Trump get that?

Trump seems to understand — at least in his more recent speeches — the importance that much of the Jewish community attaches to Israel as the Jewish homeland.

Trump also wants to pull up the drawbridge, to insulate America against the wider world, that likely would diminish U.S. influence.

The centrist pro-Israel community, led by the American Israel Public Affairs Committee, for decades has cast assistance to Israel as inextricable from the robust U.S. foreign presence overseas. Invest in U.S. influence in the Middle East, in Europe, in Africa, the thinking went, and Israel, as a close ally, could only benefit; America could, and did, leverage its considerable influence in those arenas to benefit Israel.

What holds back the expansion of the boycott Israel movement? What drew a broad array of nations to sanction Iran? The willingness to leverage U.S. influence in the global arena, coupled with the willingness to expend U.S. largesse. Diminish the influence, and leverage fades as well; there is no stick without carrots.

The formula advanced by Trump — and by the Republican Party, which embraced closeness with Israel while retreating from overseas engagement at its convention — is that America will keep Israel close, whatever the vicissitudes of its relationships with other countries.

That raises tough questions for Israel, which chafes at the notion that it must rely on a great power to survive. It also casts American Jews as a protected class, able to seek favors for its homeland, while other ethnic minorities are cut off. That is not a status that much of the American Jewish community would embrace gladly.

What happens to Jewish conservatives?

A good portion of the conservative resistance to Trump during the campaign was driven by Jews in the conservative movement; over the decades Jewish conservatives had led the effort to make the party more amenable to other minorities and also argued for the holistically robust foreign policy described above. (Both postures, rejecting racial particularism and advocating expanded U.S. influence, were hallmarks of neoconservatism, a movement in which Jews are preeminent.)

The thinking until now was to let the election pass, to anticipate Trump’s loss, and to rebuild the party.

Trump now is the party. Where do these conservatives go?

Who are these people?

Trump tapped into real frustrations with an American economy that, even as it grew, robbed the middle class of guarantees it once took for granted: College educations for the kids, pensions that lasted until death, a lifetime free of debt.

He also tapped into visceral fears among the portion of the middle class that is white, traditionalist, and Christian, that the country looked less and less like it; that privileges that white middle-class Christians had never acknowledged — such as police protection without considering what it cost marginalized communities, a culture with icons that were as white as they were, first dibs at jobs — were falling away.

That was a class that to a great degree was invisible to Jews, who are largely liberal, and most of whom live in coastal enclaves.

Like the rest of the country, Jewish Americans now must contend with this demographic. Who are they? What are their legitimate grievances? What are the things they seek to preserve that are abhorrent to Jews?

How do we reconcile these things?

JTA Wire Service

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