October 7 marked the largest death toll for the Jewish population since the Holocaust yet a lacking denouncement of antisemitism remains deafening. I am both a member of a white Anglo-Saxon political dynasty, and I am Black. This is a dichotomy that is rarely lost on me. However, despite the divergence of these varying ancestral identities, it is through both senses of self that I affix a personal responsibility for advocacy on a most urgent international crisis in Israel.
“The Surprising Zionist” — that’s how some historians refer to my grandfather, Sen. Robert A. Taft Sr. Once the most powerful man in both the Republican Party and Senate, yet also defeated in multiple bids for presidential nominations, his was a career characterized by many an element of surprise. Exceptions to this unpredictability laid in the guarantee that, when faced with the choice between that which was popular versus that which was ethical, Taft would always choose the latter. Insinuations of isolationism plagued his failed White House ambitions as he was vocal in the then-unpopular opinion that the United States’ ability to effect global change wasn’t without limits. For this reason, many colleagues were shocked and awed when, at the peak of his political career, the conservative senator rallied bipartisan support for the funding, creation and support of the State of Israel. It was a feat he considered both feasible and one of virtuous American obligation.
A month has now passed from the devastating events of October 7. Our nation continues to mourn the initial terrorism as well as the devastating aftermath that has followed, most specifically, for the Jewish, Israeli, Palestinian and Muslim people. Former President Barack Obama, the nation’s first Black chief executive, referenced this current state of Middle East affairs as “a moral reckoning for us all.” Thus, I dare to argue that perhaps my grandfather was not a surprising Zionist at all. History tells us that he was instead a predictable agent of morality among American leaders — including those who have experienced the long moral arc of the universe bend too slowly toward justice.
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Ten days prior to his assassination, the ultimate agent of morality, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., was interviewed at the 68th Annual Convention of the Rabbinical Assembly. There, he stated that “probably more than any other ethnic group, the Jewish community has been sympathetic and has stood as an ally to the Negro in his struggle for justice.”
My maternal grandmother was an aficionado of all things literature and learning. She would often speak of how, growing up in rural South Carolina, she yearned to attend school on consistent basis. But she was Black, and she often found herself tasked with picking cotton instead. This was a circumstance created, without a doubt, by a lack of privilege directly associated with her race.
I cannot help but affirm that Jewish people’s support of Black people during the Civil Rights Movement — as noted by Dr. King — contributed to the improvement upon such circumstances for future generations of color.
Which begs the question: If the Black and Jewish communities are historically not strange bedfellows, why, in the year 2023, aren’t they doing more to help one another?
At this point in current events, many in the Jewish community feel abandoned as perceived progressive organizations, such as Black Lives Matter, have not merely turned a blind eye, but seemingly tolerated and even embraced, these most recent acts of antisemitism.
Just as I do not speak for all people of color, biracial women or all descendants of U.S. senators and presidents, the Black Lives Matter Organization does not speak for all Black people. Renouncement of antisemitism is not support of militarism or islamophobia. Rather, it is a proclamation of justice and freedom for Israelis, Palestinians and all minorities, as united we stand against hate for the greater good of all humanity.
When Robert A. Taft died, he was revered by both sides of the aisle as one of the greatest senators of our time. His high regard was not due to characteristics of sensationalism nor his ability to win a popularity contest in the court of public opinion. Rather, it was because of his courageousness in the face of ethical challenge. This was consistent in his Zionist views and belief that the Jewish population — having just survived eradication — must have a protected homeland.
So, prior to his death in 1953, one of my grandfather’s last efforts as Senate majority leader was for the push of the creation of the state of Israel as an ancestral homeland to serve as a beacon of hope and refuge for Jews displaced by the horror of Adolf Hitler’s Holocaust. Taft saw this as the just and right thing to do.
Just as the 1960s Civil Rights Movement was a crucial turning point for prejudice against Black People, today’s Jewish community is facing a precipice. In 2020, The Black Lives Matter organization gained national prominence as a result of the continued fear and reality that a large part of the Black American experience was characterized by living in fear of being killed or harmed simply because of the color of one’s skin. Jewish Americans are now living with this same fear of being targeted based upon their religious beliefs, culture and ethnicity.
A disturbingly large number of individuals feel comfortable reiterating and condoning messages of hate. Even more so, an alarmingly large number of people are comfortable not standing up for what is right. The Jewish community marched along the Black community in the 1960s and in 2020, and it is now our opportunity to reciprocate. Our silence is complicit.
If we, as Americans, of any skin color, religion, or race do no advocate against hatred toward ourselves or others, history is doomed to repeat itself. Currently, Israel is in a war against antisemitism, and it is a time for the Black community to support this fight against hate.
After all, if the past teaches us anything, the lives of Black Americans, may just very well depend on it.
Patricia Taft is the granddaughter of Sen. Robert A. Taft Sr. and great-granddaughter of President William Howard Taft. Based in Los Angeles, she is a member of the Board of Trustees for the Society of Presidential Descendants and Board of Directors for the National First Ladies Day Commission.
