When Elon Musk made a gesture resembling a Nazi salute during a public appearance, it sent shockwaves through Jewish communities and beyond. White supremacists like Nick Fuentes openly embraced the gesture as a Nazi salute, and Musk did little to dispel that interpretation. Instead of unequivocally condemning antisemitism, he doubled down by posting Holocaust-related jokes on his platform, X. The fallout from this incident highlights not only Musk’s irresponsibility but also the challenges Jewish organizations face in responding to rising antisemitism while maintaining solidarity with other marginalized groups.
At the center of the controversy is the Anti-Defamation League (ADL), which initially asked the public to give Musk the benefit of the doubt. While the ADL later condemned Musk’s Holocaust jokes, its reluctance to hold him accountable for his earlier actions drew significant backlash.
I have mixed feelings about the ADL. On one hand, the work they do is essential to fostering a more just and socially responsible society. Their mission to combat antisemitism, racism, homophobia, Islamophobia, and other forms of discrimination is undeniably important. On the other hand, their approach sometimes undermines their stated goals—particularly when they make accusations of antisemitism that feel disingenuous. This risks making the Jewish community more vulnerable to the very hostility they aim to combat.
Jews in America occupy a precarious position, not unlike the Black community. When we call out antisemitism, we are often accused of perpetuating fear or wallowing in victimhood. This double standard can feel suffocating, and it highlights a shared experience of being both vulnerable and misunderstood.
I’m writing this piece for DW not to defend or excuse Elon Musk or the ADL, but to affirm a critical truth: the Jewish community, as a whole, stands in solidarity with the Black community. We see our struggles as intertwined, and our liberation as collective. The ADL has no doubt made many missteps since its founding in 1913, but a close examination of its work should reassure anyone that their mission—to fight the defamation of Jewish people and combat hate in all forms—remains sincere.
That said, the ADL has not been immune to criticism, and it is deserved. Their response to Elon Musk’s Nazi salute was disappointing at best. Their leniency felt unwarranted, particularly given Musk’s long history of amplifying antisemitic conspiracy theories that have directly fueled violence against the Jewish community.
The ADL’s decision to let Musk off the hook contrasts sharply with how they typically approach such issues. In most cases, they are quick to call out hateful rhetoric and demand atonement through reparative efforts. So why did someone with a track record of flirting with white nationalist ideas get a pass? The answer may lie in the broader political dynamics of the Jewish community, particularly its relationship with Israel.
There is an unfortunate tendency among some Jewish leaders to overlook antisemitism when it comes from individuals or groups who support Israel politically. This is evident in Benjamin Netanyahu’s defense of Musk, which seemed less about moral clarity and more about political expediency. This willingness to compromise on antisemitism for political gain undermines the integrity of our fight against hate.
Still, I hesitate to paint the Jewish community as a monolith. We are diverse in thought, politics, and ideology. But one thing is clear: American Jews care deeply about protecting the civil rights of all people in this country, particularly the Black community. We understand that when one group’s rights are threatened, everyone’s rights are at risk.
The ADL’s strategy has always been to work within the establishment—to influence policymakers, businesses, and other institutions. While this approach has yielded results, it is fundamentally different from movements that demand systemic change through disruption. This institutional alignment may explain some of their missteps, but it doesn’t absolve them.
The larger question remains: Why do figures like Musk—who openly flirt with white nationalism—get leniency, while the Black community rarely catches a break? I don’t have a definitive answer, but I have a theory.
There is a long-standing affinity between the Jewish and Black communities in America. We have historically seen each other as allies in the fight for civil rights, as brothers and sisters who share a painful legacy of oppression. When someone like Musk or Trump engages in antisemitic rhetoric, it’s reprehensible but unsurprising—it aligns with the patterns of white nationalism we’ve come to expect from them. But when respected Black leaders are accused of antisemitism, whether knowingly or unknowingly, it stings differently. It feels like a betrayal from someone we hold to a higher standard.
I suspect the Black community feels the same when members of the Jewish community perpetuate anti-Black racism. The disappointment cuts deeper because of the unspoken expectation that we, as historically marginalized communities, should know better.
This is where the ADL, and all of us, must do better. Solidarity requires accountability—both for ourselves and for those we call allies. It also requires us to engage in difficult conversations, to sit with discomfort, and to hold each other to the high standards our shared histories demand.
If I’m giving the ADL the benefit of the doubt, it’s because I believe their intentions are rooted in a genuine desire to fight hate. But intentions alone are not enough. For the Jewish and Black communities to continue standing together, we must confront our own failings, challenge our institutions, and demand better from ourselves and each other. Our liberation depends on it.
