Tackling antisemitism on the biggest stage — why Robert Kraft deserves credit
Opinion

Tackling antisemitism on the biggest stage — why Robert Kraft deserves credit

Robert Kraft’s Super Bowl commercial addressing antisemitism has drawn a wave of criticism — some thoughtful, some reflexive, and some unfair. Critics on social media and in the Jewish commentariat have dismissed the ad as simplistic, outdated, or disconnected from the real threats Jews face today. They argue that antisemitism has moved far beyond crude slurs and locker-room taunts, and that a 30-second spot depicting a school hall insult misses the moment.

There is truth in that critique. But it is incomplete — and it risks missing the larger point.

Robert Kraft chose to spend millions of dollars to put antisemitism in front of more than 100 million Americans during the most-watched television event of the year. That alone sets him apart from the many public figures who talk about antisemitism, issue statements condemning it, or wring their hands over polling data — but avoid meaningful public action.

The commercial itself tells a straightforward story: a Jewish teenager finds a note reading “Dirty Jew” stuck to his backpack; a non-Jewish classmate (possibly Muslim) covers it with a blue square and offers friendship. It is intentionally simple, symbolic, and accessible. It is also rooted in an older understanding of antisemitism — one centered on personal prejudice and social exclusion.

That is not where antisemitism is most dangerous today.

In 2026, antisemitism is far more likely to present itself as ideological incitement, glorification of terror, or open calls for the eradication of Israel. Jews are not merely insulted; they are threatened, attacked, and told that their national existence is illegitimate. On campuses, in protests, and online, violence against Jews is excused or celebrated as “resistance.” Any serious conversation about antisemitism must confront those realities head-on.

So yes, the critics are right about what the ad does not show.

But the question is not whether the commercial offered a comprehensive diagnosis of modern antisemitism. It did not. The question is whether it mattered — and whether dismissing it outright serves the Jewish community or weakens it.

Super Bowl commercials are not academic lectures or policy papers. They are designed to reach people who are not already engaged, informed, or focused on the issue at hand. Kraft did not buy airtime to persuade Jewish audiences or antisemitism experts. He bought it to force a conversation among millions of Americans who might otherwise never think about antisemitism at all.

That is not nothing.

Within minutes of the ad airing, antisemitism was being debated across social media during a night usually reserved for entertainment and distraction. People argued about the message, the imagery, and the intent. Some mocked it. Others defended it. That very reaction underscores the point: the ad succeeded in making antisemitism visible at a moment when it is often minimized, relativized, or ignored.

Criticism is easy. Action is harder.

It is easy to say the message should have been sharper, more contemporary, more political. It is easy to insist that nothing short of confronting anti-Zionism, campus radicalism, and terrorist apologetics is worth attempting. But those critiques beg an obvious question: who else is stepping forward to do that — on a national stage, with real resources, and at real personal cost?

Kraft did not wait for perfect language or universal approval. He acted, knowing full well that he would be attacked from multiple directions — by antisemites who resent any spotlight on Jew-hatred, and by critics within the Jewish community who believe the message did not go far enough.

That willingness to absorb criticism matters.

No single ad will defeat antisemitism. No campaign slogan or symbol can capture the full scope of a hatred that has adapted itself to every era. But awareness is not an end in itself; it is a starting point. And starting points matter, especially when too many institutions and leaders prefer silence or ambiguity.

The Jewish community should demand stronger, clearer, and more realistic engagement with the threats it faces today. We should push philanthropists, media figures, and public leaders to confront antisemitism in all its modern forms — not only its most polite or familiar ones.

But we should also recognize leadership when it appears.

Tackling antisemitism will require many voices, many strategies, and many imperfect efforts. On Super Bowl Sunday, Robert Kraft took the field and ran a play when many others stayed on the sidelines.

That deserves criticism where warranted — but it also deserves credit.

Stephen M. Flatow of Long Branch, formerly of West Orange, is an attorney and the father of Alisa Flatow, who was murdered in an Iranian-sponsored Palestinian terrorist attack in 1995. He is the author of A Father’s Story: My Fight for Justice Against Iranian Terror (now available in an expanded paperback edition on Amazon) and is the president of the Religious Zionists of America-Mizrachi.

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