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OPINION SARAH POSNER

LOOK WHO’S BLOWING SHOFARS

Evangelical and far-right circles are engaging in ‘spiritual warfare.’

s the United States House Select

ACommittee on the January 6 attack gears up to hold televised hearings this spring, lawmakers probably won’t devote much airtime to religion’s role in the assault on our democracy. But white Christian nationalism continues to play a central role in perpetuating Donald Trump’s stolen election lie, so understanding its continued threat and its sometimes peculiar symbols is crucial. One such symbol, the blowing of shofars as a gesture of pro-Trump Christian triumphalism, is a troubling example of how many in the movement have arrogated Jewish ritual as a weapon for their nationalistic ends.

White Christian nationalism was the most visible religious af liation on display in the January 6 riots. Participants marched with signs proclaiming “Trump is President, Christ is King,” one held a Bible in the air while a mob overran police to charge into the Capitol building, and another shouted, “Here we are in the name of Jesus!” Even the so-called QAnon shaman prayed in Jesus’ name in the ransacked Senate chamber. There was also the incongruous sight of Israeli ags, a sign of how potent Christian Zionism is among many Trump supporters—even as one rioter wore a “Camp Auschwitz” sweatshirt and another, currently under criminal indictment, is a Hitler admirer who federal prosecutors say “took the time to make what is likely a Nazi gesture towards the Capitol after violently assaulting and confronting law enforcement.”

And then there were the shofars. In covering Christian nationalism and Messianic Judaism for nearly two decades, I have seen the increasing use of shofars at church services, prayer rallies and political events. But shofars’ deployment in the service of the January 6 rioters marked a new and bizarre twist in this phenomenon—one that centers Donald Trump as a salvi c gure in an ultimate victory over liberal democracy.

The shofar blowers were likely not Jewish, writes Sarah Imhoff at “Uncivil Religion,” a digital resource documenting religion and January 6, a joint project of the University of Alabama and the Smithsonian. Evangelicals increasingly use shofars as a tool of “spiritual warfare,” says Imhoff, a religion scholar at Indiana University, to show that “the world is moving toward the end times...war on earth, culminating in the battle of Armageddon, and God’s participation in this nal battle against evil.”

“Uncivil Religion” documents other shofar-blowing moments on January 6, including video of a rioter blowing a shofar atop the scaffolding that insurrectionists seized outside the Capitol. Haaretz reported video of a woman blowing a shofar into a shattered Capitol window. The New York Times documents a man blowing a shofar as the mob rampages on the Capitol grounds.

The January 6 shofars did not come out of nowhere. At the Republican National Convention in Cleveland in 2016, I covered a far-right rally featuring conspiracist Alex Jones and dirty trickster Roger Stone, later two prominent January 6 promoters. I interviewed a Christian prayer warrior from Michigan who told me Trump was “God’s man.” He and his friends enthusiastically blew their shofars as Jones repeated the antisemitic trope so popular on the Trumpist right about defeating the “globalists.”

I had forgotten about this moment until more recently, when I was writing about the Jericho March, a series of prayer rallies organized in advance of January 6 to mobilize pro-Trump Christians and restore Trump to power. At the December 12, 2020 Jericho March rally on the National Mall, attendees repeatedly used shofars to punctuate the testimonies of Trump loyalists such as Stone and Michael Flynn, Trump’s disgraced National Security Advisor. Flynn told the crowd that just as the walls of Jericho fell before Joshua’s army, this new Trumpist army could bring down the “deep state.” Jones was there, too, invoking the end times and vowing that Biden “will be removed, one way or another.”

Sixty percent of white evangelicals still believe the lie that the 2020 election was stolen from Trump—that’s more than any other religious demographic, according to the Public Religion Research Institute. Twenty-six percent of white evangelicals told PRRI that “true American patriots” might have to resort to violence to save the country. Not all evangelicals blow shofars, and not all endorse violence, but examining the conjunction of the two on January 6 shows just how the Christian nationalist rhetoric of spiritual warfare can spill into actual violence. In the past, watching shofars being blown as symbols of Christian spiritual warfare, I found it merely a sacrilegious annoyance. Now, the evidence shows, it is something more serious, a permanent part of the record of an assault that sought to bring American democracy to its knees.

Sarah Posner is the author of Unholy: How White Christian Nationalists Powered the Trump Presidency, and the Devastating Legacy They Left Behind.

OPINION FANIA OZ-SALZBERGER

AN ISRAELI PM STEPS UP TO DIPLOMACY

The war in Ukraine realigns Israel’s internal political alliances.

hen Russia invaded Ukraine

Win late February, an interesting overlap emerged in Israeli public discourse. Some of the major voices opposing Naftali Bennett and Yair Lapid’s government, from both the radical left and the nationalist right, began attacking Ukraine as well.

To be clear, a strong majority of social media participants and professional commentators sided with the victims. In the rst few weeks of the war, most Israelis shared the pain of Ukrainian citizens, heaped solidarity upon the refugees and displayed admiration for Volodymyr Zelensky’s stout heroism.

And yet, mirroring the recent Israeli election campaigns, two extremist currents crisscrossed the majority opinion. On the far left, some voices insisted on blaming the war on NATO, the United States and “Western soft imperialism” for provoking the Russian bear. Disregarding the wishes and hopes of the majority of Ukrainians, such far-left critics accused the West of encouraging the Ukrainians to dream of Westernizing. By contrast, the mainstream left, including civic liberals and social democrats, voiced heartfelt solidarity with the suffering populace and especially the refugees. Likewise, the moderate right agreed with Bennett and Lapid on the moral necessity for Israel to denounce Putin’s war of conquest, while keeping a sensitive eye on its vital security interests vis-à-vis Syria, Lebanon and, especially, Iran.

This alignment of moderation, realpolitik and humanism left Benjamin Netanyahu and his immediate circle looking increasingly out of touch with history. The ousted prime minister himself said very little, but among his leading mouthpieces and electoral base the new theme quickly emerged: If you are anti-Bennett, come join us in an anti-Zelensky, anti-Ukrainian campaign. Soon, many of those who had been busy beating up on Bennett and Lapid ever since June 2021, when they created a government, now began blaming the Ukrainians for their forebears’ sins.

Their most successful move was, of course, to invoke the Holocaust. For days, debate raged in almost every major media outlet about the extent and signi cance of pre-Nazi, collaborator and post-Nazi Ukrainian antisemitism. In this instantly heated arena, into which some respected historians were dragged willy-nilly, few stopped to ask themselves whether Ukrainians living today ought to pay for their grandparents’ sins with their lives and their country’s independence.

In fact, the argument had less to do with history than with domestic political frustration. More than one-third of Israelis voted for Netanyahu, and their disillusion following his ousting is growing stronger. The Bennett-Lapid government did not fall within a couple of months, as Bibi’s cronies had prophesied; instead, it pulled off several important tasks during its rst ten months in power. Its right-center-leftArab coalition government is surprisingly stable. A budget nally passed after almost three years of Netanhayu-era stalling.

Both Bennett and Lapid have kept their political language subdued and polite, putting a long-overdue stop to Netanyahu-style tirades. A new political conversation has begun to emerge, led especially by Lapid, who carries the triple ag of liberalism, Jewish national identity and cultural inclusiveness. Netanyahu, whose trial is crawling at a snail’s pace, was forced to withdraw to his villa in Caesarea while his base opposed anything Bennett favored.

Hence the anti-Ukrainian hullabaloo. But it hasn’t gone well. When Bennett unexpectedly jetted to Moscow and Berlin, Netanyahu’s son Yair barely managed to tweet his venom for the “scoundrel, photo-op seeking” prime minister before it became known that Bennett had the blessing of both Putin and Zelensky, as well as the major Western powers. Globe-trotting statesmanship had been a cherished Net-

Naftali Bennett

anyahu specialty; competition from Bennett on this front was an unwelcome surprise.

In the short run, against a grim horizon for Ukraine and world stability, Israel stands to lose like any other member of the international community. But Bennett’s diplomatic mission, regardless of its outcome, at least means Israel is now able to act as a top-league mediator in other people’s wars. It compensates, somewhat, for our need to tread softly with Russia.

With the current Israeli prime minister as a globally respected would-be peacemaker, a broader moral change may be at hand. Even if a person is the great-grandchild of a persecutor, and even if their last name is Khmelnitsky or Demjanjuk, they do not deserve to have their country conquered, their children bombed and their asylum applications rejected out of hand. The anti-Ukrainian buzz on the right-wing fringes of Israeli social networks in 2022 should be seen for what it is: contempt for human life, disrespect for the principle of liberty and, yes, cheap manipulation of the Holocaust.

If the Bennett-Lapid government survives and ourishes, I believe that their leadership could help weaken both nationalist extremism and abuse of the historical past. More fundamentally, it could allow the State of the Jews to treat its own Jewish identity more liberally and more generously.

Fania Oz-Salzberger is an Israeli historian and essayist and a professor at the University of Haifa.

OPINION SHMUEL ROSNER

HOW MANY UKRAINIANS CAN ISRAEL ABSORB?

The answer depends, as always, on global vs. Jewish priorities.

srael’s immigration policy is a con-

Istant minefield in the public discourse. There’s been ongoing controversy, for instance, about whether to reinstate the Citizenship Law that prevents Palestinians from becoming Israeli citizens by marrying Arab Israelis. Should Palestinians be able to become Israeli through marriage? One camp says such absorption is dangerous for Israel because these Palestinians are often a security risk and pose a demographic challenge to the Jewish majority. The second camp says preventing such marriages is discriminatory and even racist. Why would we let a Swede who marries an Israeli become a citizen, but not someone from Ramallah?

The recent debate over Israel’s absorption of refugees from Ukraine, though it’s a reaction to unique circumstances, is similar in principle. When the war began, refugees poured into Israel, some eligible for citizenship, some not. Immediately, a passionate debate broke out: Should Israel absorb only the Jewish refugees, or should it take in refugees regardless of whether they are Jewish?

Even if it’s resolved, this debate is of interest for those wanting to understand Israel. That’s because, much like the debate on Palestinians marrying Arab Israelis, the argument over Ukrainian refugee policy brings important values into conflict. The root question in both controversies is the same: To what extent do we want to ensure that a Jewish majority is maintained in Israel, and by what means? For those who consider the Jewish majority crucially important, the path is clear; for others to whom the Jewish majority is not important, Israeli policies protecting it seem like a medieval remnant of racist malice.

Then there are the rest of us, in the middle, with our many shades of gray. We could say: I want to maintain a Jewish majority, but a few more brides from the Palestinian territories do not endanger it. But then, what does “a few” mean, what if they become many, and how many is “many,” anyway? We wish to have a Jewish state; we also wish to be moral.

So too with Ukrainian refugees. The desire to sustain Israel as a Jewish state might argue for accepting mainly Jews as refugees. But there is also the desire to act in the world as a moral agent, a country that, when there are refugees to save, works to save them along with the rest of the international community. How do you reconcile these conflicting values? Compromise is the accepted way in politics. In the Ukrainian case, it could come in several forms.

One option: Absorb only Jews. By doing this, Israel could take in a significant number of refugees and thus fulfill its part in the extensive rescue effort. What’s the problem with this option? Mainly one of appearance. The citizens of the West expect that in wartime, countries will come to the rescue with no consideration of religion, culture or nationality.

Another option: Absorb both Jewish and non-Jewish refugees. Israel is home to more than a million immigrants from the former Soviet Union, many of whom aren’t Jewish, who have made aliyah since the early 1990s under the Law of Return, which in 1970 was amended to allow immigrants to settle in Israel if at least one grandparent was Jewish. The nation absorbed the Jews and the non-Jews and adapted. In the present crisis, though, however large the overall number, the fundamental problem would remain: Israel would absorb an unlimited number of Jews and add a limited quota of nonJews. That is to say, Israel would still be looking at religion, culture and nationality as criteria for rescue.

In a rational world, Israel should receive commendation for pursuing the second option—taking in at least as many refugees as any other country, plus a large number of Jewish refugees. Alas, the world is irrational. There will always be those who emphasize not the large number of refugees that Israel receives, but the gap in quotas between different types. Instead of commendation, Israel will be marked for derision.

To staunch opponents of non-Jewish absorption, the crisis in Ukraine provides some rhetorical ammunition. Look at what is happening, they might say, in a place where Russian and Ukrainian populations are mixed, with no national or cultural coherence. On the other hand, those opposed to admitting only Jews might say: Look what happens when a nationalist culture takes precedence over human rights, when the strong ignore the wishes and interests of the weak.

Both sides are right, neither entirely so. One camp must remember that a “Jewish state” does not mean “a state without non-Jews.” The other side should keep in mind that simply having an immigration policy does not equate to discrimination and racism. No reasonable country opens its gates indiscriminately. No reasonable country shuts its ears to the cry of refugees. Israel should be a reasonable country. And in case of doubt, it had better err by being a little too generous than by being a little too strict.

Shmuel Rosner is a Tel Aviv-based editor and columnist and a senior fellow at the Jewish People Policy Institute.

OPINION INTERVIEW KATI MARTON

‘WE HAVE TO STOP ORBÁN’

Journalist Kati Marton fi ghts for democracy in her native Hungary.

ati Marton doesn’t think of her-

Kself as a political activist. A veteran journalist for ABC News and NPR, she is the author of nine books, most recently The Chancellor: The Remarkable Odyssey of Angela Merkel. Marton’s unusual background has shaped her work: Born in Communist Hungary, she escaped in 1957 with her parents, also journalists, who had been jailed by the regime and whose story she tells in her 2009 book Enemies of the People. Lately, though, Marton’s past has been motivating her in a different way. The erosion of democracy in Europe, particularly in her native Hungary, spurred her to launch a project called Action for Democracy, aimed at raising awareness among Hungarian expatriates and dissidents to in uence Hungarian politics. Its rst goal—to improve the chances of a challenger to Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán in elections April 3—was at press time unresolved. But with Vladimir Putin’s march into Ukraine and autocrats tightening restrictions on speech and dissent all over the world, Marton sees tasks beyond the election and beyond Hungary. “I don’t consider it politicking,” she says. “I’m campaigning for values.”

What prompted you to get involved in

Hungarian politics? I lost my homeland once, and now I’m ghting not to lose it a second time. We have to stop Orbán. He has actually become a bit more popular since the Ukraine war started. I never expected the country of my birth to regress to such an extent.

In advance of the April 3 elections, all six opposition parties united behind one candidate. What accounted for such a strong political challenge to Orbán this

year? It was probably born of desperation, the sense that Orbán was tightening his grip and Hungary was becoming a European pariah. The European Union was nally starting to crack down on Hungary’s de ance of EU values, on immigration, on the rule of law and on safeguarding independent media. All these are baked into the EU, and he has agrantly abused them. Now Orbán is in a tough spot, because his buddy and co-conspirator Putin is doing to Ukraine precisely what prior Russian leadership did to Hungary in 1956. If they put a puppet government in Kyiv, then Hungary, which is a member of NATO, would be a nation with an active armed border. It’s a nightmare for Orbán, but deservedly. He made a pact with the devil. He was in Moscow right before the war, and he’s cozied up to Putin for many years.

WE’RE SAYING HUNGARY CANNOT BE ON THE WRONG SIDE OF HISTORY YET AGAIN.

Do you remember eeing Hungary

as a child? Tanks are among my earliest memories. We lived on a hilltop in Buda, and the tanks appeared in the square at the bottom of our hill where we used to do our shopping. To see all that replaying itself in 2022 reawakens a lot of emotions. We all recognize ourselves in those images of the refugees. My parents and I left with four suitcases, and it was the end of everything familiar to me as a little kid. My friends, my pet, my neighborhood. And it worked out all right, but nobody should be forced to leave their home. It’s just not a normal state of affairs. We were very fortunate because my parents had reputations as brave reporters, so we were well treated. But everything was strange, and I didn’t speak any English. The wound of leaving everything familiar is a wound that never heals. And it’s happening to so many people right now. This is why I’m ghting to get through to my fellow Hungarians. Just as Putin controls information, Orbán does too, so they’re getting a different version of what’s going on in Ukraine. We’re bombarding the Hungarian internet with information about what’s going on in Ukraine and what this means for Hungary, saying that Hungary cannot be on the wrong side of history yet again.

When did you conclude that Orbán is on the wrong side of history? Probably when he evicted the Central European University from Hungary in 2018. I was a trustee, and I was so proud to be part of that community. The university was a vital part of the city and a great meeting place of more than 100 nations, which is exactly how I imagined that Hungary would evolve, as an open, tolerant country, the way it brie y was before World War II. There was a huge owering of talent in science, art and music before darkness fell with the rule of Miklós Horthy and the antisemitic laws of the 1930s. That was when my parents were young. And that owering happened again after 1989.

Do you think Hungary can be that again? Of course it can. It’s such a talented country. It’s just been very, very unfortunate in its leaders, and the population has been reluctant to confront its own

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history. Orbán paints Hungary as history’s victim. That’s not necessarily true—ask my grandparents. Unfortunately, they’re not here to tell their tale, but they were proud Hungarians, and from one day to the next, they were not deemed t to be Hungarian, because of their bloodlines. And Hungary has not really assimilated that history. It’s a virus that runs deep in all of Europe. Some countries have done better than others. I’m in awe of how well Germany has done.

How big a factor is antisemitism in Hungary right now? It’s mostly focused on George Soros. Soros was the perfect scapegoat, because he combined a Western capitalist persona with his Jewish history. He was just custom-made for Orbán to exploit. But Orbán is an absolute opportunist. I don’t think he’s a man of any convictions.

You don’t think he’s even really an an-

tisemite? I don’t. It’s a convenient weapon for him, but he will use anything. He’s anti-gay, and he’s no feminist, God knows. But is he anti-modern in a fundamental way, as those Republicans going to see him seem to think? I don’t think so. He’s about maintaining power, and he’s identi ed certain tropes that pay off for him. I don’t think it’s a matter of deep conviction, because in the early years, we were friendly, and he was in my home for dinner.

Orbán’s been at your house for dinner?

Yes, in New York. He and George Soros have actually been together at the same table in my apartment. Orbán was the prime minister then, but he was still a normal human being. When my husband [Richard Holbrooke] and I went to Budapest, Orbán and his wife would take us to the opera. It was when he was defeated at the polls in 2002 that he decided that he would go all in with the anti-Soros campaign. It was such a narcissistic wound for him to be defeated that he just decided, “Never again.” And it’s worked well for him.

Have you seen any other leader go through such a dramatic transition?

Well, Putin didn’t start out in his present mode either. He was also rather modest and well-spoken and said all the right things in the early days to Bush and to Clinton: “We’re part of Europe. We’re going to play nice.” Unlike Orbán, Putin has never been defeated in an election. But he had an encounter with humiliation early on, in 1989, when he was with the KGB in Dresden and faced demonstrators. Moscow, famously, was silent, and he drove back, tail between his legs, in a junky Trabant with an old washing machine in the back. He never got over that.

If the April elections don’t go the way you hope, is there still a role for the Hungarian diaspora? Absolutely. We’re not going to fold up our tent. There are other elections coming up in other places, and we’re developing relationships and a network. The focus now is Hungary, but our ultimate focus is rescuing democracy, which has proven to be a much more fragile creature than we assumed. We kind of thought we’d gotten it done. And it turned out that that is never the case, anywhere.