In recent months, there’s been a noticeable shift in the political discourse coming from the American right, especially from Donald Trump and his allies. Their sudden emphasis on anti-Semitism as a singular, urgent civil rights crisis is not just curious—it’s strategic. From executive orders to emotionally charged speeches, conservatives have aggressively moved to center anti-Semitism in public policy, especially on college campuses. On its face, one might welcome a government finally taking hate seriously. But this isn’t an all-encompassing fight against bigotry. This is selective outrage—anti-racism for some, silence for others.

Trump’s January 30, 2025 executive order to “Combat Anti-Semitism” goes far beyond past civil rights actions. It orders every federal agency to identify new ways to police anti-Semitism, particularly among students, protestors, and resident aliens. It specifically targets pro-Palestinian demonstrations and threatens mass visa cancellations and deportations. While one might applaud any administration’s efforts to address hate, we must ask: where is the parallel executive order targeting anti-Black racism? Where is the plan for protecting Latino students facing disproportionate suspensions and expulsions? For LGBTQ+ youth experiencing escalating bullying and erasure? For students with disabilities who still lack equitable access and inclusion?

The answer is nowhere. Not only is this administration failing to protect these communities—it is actively dismantling the programs that once served them. Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) efforts are being banned. Black history curricula are being censored. LGBTQ+ protections are being rolled back. The Department of Education’s Office for Civil Rights (OCR) is increasingly being co-opted to investigate “reverse racism” rather than address systemic inequity. What we’re witnessing is not a principled stand against hate—it’s a cynical ploy to appropriate civil rights language for political control. The right is not embracing anti-racism. It’s redefining it to suit their agenda.

Anti-Semitism is real. It is dangerous. And it must be condemned. But when the only form of racism worthy of executive action is one that conveniently aligns with a political campaign narrative—especially when that same administration traffics in predjudice and seeks to embolden hate groups—it raises profound concerns. If civil rights are only for some, then they are not truly civil rights. They are tools of political enforcement. And no one—especially educators, students, and scholars—should be fooled.

Why the Sudden Conservative Focus on Anti-Semitism?

Why is Donald Trump, a man known for inflammatory rhetoric, sudden moral outrage, and a transactional relationship with truth, now positioning himself as the chief protector of Jewish Americans? Why is anti-Semitism—undoubtedly serious—suddenly the epicenter of federal civil rights action, while other communities continue to suffer in silence? The answer lies in a complex mix of political optics, ideological realignment, and strategic suppression of dissent.

Donald Trump has a long and well-documented history of trafficking in racist tropes. From the outset of his 2016 campaign, he built his political brand on fear and division. In his launch speech, he infamously declared, “When Mexico sends its people, they’re not sending their best… They’re rapists.” This wasn’t subtle dog-whistle racism—it was a bullhorn. He cast immigrants as criminals and invaders, a dehumanizing narrative that paved the way for policies like family separation and mass deportation. Later, he referred to Haiti and African nations as “shithole countries,” once again portraying non-white nations as inferior and unworthy. Today, under his renewed influence, ICE is being used to disappear students and other immigrants from communities—often without due process, in part because Trump has openly questioned whether it’s the president’s responsibility to uphold the Constitution. This, despite the fact that he has recited the presidential oath of office twice.

Trump’s racism wasn’t just rhetorical—it was institutional. As early as 1973, the Department of Justice sued the Trump Organization for refusing to rent to Black tenants. Employees testified that applications from Black people were marked with a “C” for “colored” to ensure they were rejected. This pattern of exclusion and bias has followed him through the decades, culminating in his administration’s willingness to dismantle civil rights protections while giving cover to hate groups.

As I wrote in the post The Freedom Flip: When the Right Became the Left (But Not Really), the sudden pivot to championing anti-Semitism is therefore deeply suspect. It allows Trump to cloak himself in the language of civil rights without ever having to confront or dismantle racism. Instead of taking accountability for emboldening hate groups, he rebrands himself as a protector—a classic tactic of the authoritarian strongman. Just as dangerous, this selective focus has been weaponized to criminalize legitimate protest, especially pro-Palestinian student activism, which is now being equated with terrorism and sedition.

We must ask: if Trump truly cared about civil rights, why is there no executive order addressing the mass banning of Black history in classrooms? Why no investigation into the erasure of LGBTQ+ curricula or the racial disparities in school discipline? His silence on these issues speaks volumes. This is not a newfound commitment to justice. It is a calculated strategy to shift the political winds—one that further marginalizes the already marginalized.

Trump’s History of Emboldening White Nationalists

The danger of Trump’s selective moralism becomes even more glaring when we examine his pattern of emboldening white nationalist groups. Time and again, when given the opportunity to unequivocally condemn hate, Trump has instead equivocated, excused, or even praised those who promote it. The most infamous example, of course, is Charlottesville.

Following the 2017 “Unite the Right” rally—where white supremacists carried torches, chanted “Jews will not replace us,” and one counter-protester was murdered—Trump told the press: “You had some very fine people on both sides.” With that one sentence, he delivered a message to hate groups: you have a friend in the White House. Far from condemning the ideology of the marchers, he legitimized them, creating an atmosphere where white nationalism could flourish with presidential approval.

This was not an anomaly. Trump repeatedly refused to denounce white nationalist leader David Duke during the 2016 campaign. When pressed by CNN’s Jake Tapper, he feigned ignorance: “I don’t know anything about David Duke.” This, despite having previously denounced Duke in the 2000s and being fully aware of his KKK affiliation. It was political calculus—an unwillingness to alienate a base that he believed was critical to his electoral strategy.

In 2020, during a live presidential debate, Trump was asked if he would condemn white supremacist militias. His answer? “Proud Boys, stand back and stand by.” The far-right group immediately adopted the phrase as a rallying cry, emblazoning it on shirts and using it to recruit new members. It was not just a refusal to condemn—it was an invitation to organize. The Proud Boys would later play a central role in the January 6th insurrection at the Capitol.

Even Trump’s Twitter habits have reflected this tacit endorsement. He has shared content from white nationalist accounts, including “WhiteGenocideTM,” and retweeted Britain First, an anti-Muslim hate group banned in the UK. His digital megaphone has been a consistent platform for extremist amplification. Far from being a defender against hate, Trump has been a major vector for its spread.

This makes his recent anti-Semitism executive order not just hypocritical, but profoundly manipulative. He is trying to recast himself as a civil rights champion while ignoring his long, well-documented history of encouraging the group and the specific ideologies that now threaten Jewish, Black, Arab, and LGBTQ+ communities alike.

The Civil Rights Caste System: Who Gets Protection?

The executive order to combat anti-Semitism is notable not just for what it includes, but for what it excludes. Nowhere does it acknowledge the parallel crises facing other historically marginalized communities. There is no companion order to address anti-Blackness in schools. No federal urgency to counter the removal of Latino and Native authors from curricula. No task force for LGBTQ+ students who face censorship and harassment. The message is clear: some forms of bigotry are actionable. Others are ignorable.

This tiered approach to executive orders and civil rights enforcement creates what can only be described as a caste system. Jewish Americans receive full-throated government support—so long as their political alignment conforms to the administration’s views on Israel and campus protest. Meanwhile, Black students are still suspended at disproportionate rates, LGBTQ+ students are seeing their books banned, and disability services are underfunded and understaffed. These students are not protected—they are punished.

This is not a question of competition between oppressed groups. Some have called that the Oppression Olympics—the false notion that marginalized communities must compete for attention, resources, or legitimacy. But this is not a competition. It’s a question of consistency and justice. True anti-racism must be intersectional. It must recognize that the struggles of Black, Latino, Indigenous, Asian, LGBTQ+, disabled, Jewish, Muslim, and immigrant communities are deeply interconnected—woven through the same systems of power and exclusion. To prioritize one group while ignoring the oppression of others is not justice—it is political opportunism masquerading as moral clarity.

There is also a disturbing pattern emerging within the Department of Education. Under the Trump agenda, the Office for Civil Rights has been redirected to investigate universities for tolerating “anti-Israel” speech rather than addressing racial and gender discrimination. This is a perversion of the office’s mission. Rather than protecting the rights of students, it is being weaponized to suppress dissent and reward political compliance.

If civil rights enforcement is contingent upon your race, politics, or religion, then it ceases to be civil rights. It becomes a tool of ideological conformity. And the most dangerous part? Many Americans don’t even see the bait-and-switch happening. They believe Trump is fighting hate—without realizing he’s only fighting the kinds that suit him.

Who Counts as Semitic? And Who Gets Erased?

One of the most revealing aspects of the current conservative push around anti-Semitism is how narrowly the term is defined. “Semitic” is, in fact, a linguistic and ethnographic classification that includes both Hebrew and Arabic-speaking peoples. Yet, in nearly every instance in public discourse—especially from the political right—“anti-Semitism” has come to mean only hatred against Jewish people, almost exclusively framed through the lens of support for Israel.

This selective interpretation has consequences. Arab Americans, who also fall under the Semitic linguistic family, face systemic discrimination and Islamophobia in the U.S.—especially in the wake of events like 9/11 and the Israel-Palestine conflict. Hate crimes, workplace discrimination, and government surveillance have disproportionately targeted Arab and Muslim communities. And yet, these realities are rarely acknowledged in federal discussions of anti-Semitism. For example, in Trump’s executive orders and speeches, there is no mention of anti-Arab bigotry—even as Arab students and faculty are being criminalized for protesting or merely existing in solidarity with Palestinians. In fact, during his last administration, Trump attempted to implement a Muslim ban, barring individuals from several majority-Muslim countries from entering the United States—an explicitly discriminatory policy that the Supreme Court ultimately allowed to take effect. These omissions reveal a disturbing hierarchy of whose suffering is recognized and whose is ignored.

This narrow framing ignores the shared histories of oppression among Semitic peoples and actively erases communities that don’t align with a pro-Israel agenda. A linguistics professor at the University of Puerto Rico recently argued that if we were to apply the term “anti-Semitism” fairly, it would also include anti-Arab racism and violence. But in the Trump-era definition, only one group is recognized, and only within the limits of political usefulness.

This is not just an academic quibble—it has real-world implications. By collapsing all anti-Semitism into criticism of Israel and by excluding Arabs from protections, the government is distorting civil rights enforcement into a political weapon. It shields one group while marginalizing another, often within the same identity category. Worse, it paints Jewish identity as monolithic—ignoring the many Jewish Americans who support Palestinian rights or critique Israel’s political and military policy.

If anti-Semitism is to be fought with seriousness, it must be done inclusively and consistently. Otherwise, the term becomes a bludgeon rather than a shield—used not to protect marginalized people, but to control discourse, punish dissent, and further marginalize already vulnerable communities.

White Immigrants Welcome, Others Beware

The hypocrisy of the Trump administration’s racial policy becomes even more glaring when we look at immigration. In the same breath that he promises to deport “pro-Hamas” student protestors and revoke their visas, he offers open arms to white immigrants from South Africa—many of whom are descendants of apartheid-era beneficiaries. These individuals are welcomed in the media as ideological and racial allies in Trump’s vision of America.

This contrast is staggering. Black and brown immigrants from Latin America, Africa, and the Middle East are treated with suspicion, criminalization, and being brutally arrested in the street. Trump has repeatedly referred to these countries as “shitholes,” questioned the intelligence and loyalty of their populations, and made political capital off their vilification. Meanwhile, white South Africans—many of whom thrived under a brutal, racist regime—are framed as victims in need of immediate immigration status and American sanctuary. This is textbook racial engineering, masquerading as national security or cultural preservation.

This should alarm anyone who believes in multiracial democracy. It shows that the fight against anti-Semitism, in Trump’s hands, is not about universal rights or dignity. It’s about building an exclusionary state where only certain lives, identities, and political views are protected—and all others are expendable.

Toward a Universal Anti-Racism

So where do we go from here? First, we must reject the false dichotomy that addressing anti-Semitism means ignoring other forms of hate—or that addressing anti-Blackness, anti-Arab racism, or LGBTQ+ oppression somehow diminishes our commitment to Jewish safety. Real anti-racism is not zero-sum. It is expansive, intersectional, and principled.

We must call out political opportunism that masquerades as moral clarity. Trump’s record makes it abundantly clear: his anti-racism is selective, his support for civil rights is negligible, and his executive orders are more about silencing dissent than protecting the vulnerable. He has repeatedly trafficked in racist tropes, emboldened white nationalists, and refused to condemn hate groups—unless doing so serves his immediate political needs.

True anti-racism must recognize and respond to the full spectrum of injustice. That means protecting Jewish students from genuine threats, yes—but also confronting anti-Blackness in discipline policies, fighting Latino erasure in curriculum debates, ending the criminalization of Arab and Muslim students, and standing up for LGBTQ+ youth facing censorship and assault. Anything less is not equity—it is hierarchy.

We must also defend academic freedom and protest rights. The idea that student dissent is un-American is itself un-American. College campuses should be places where ideas are tested, debated, and challenged—not where visas are revoked, speech is criminalized, and students are surveilled.

I want to close by sharing that I have written this post with care, reflection, and deep concern for justice in all its forms. In preparing for this piece, I’ve engaged in dialogue with people from a variety of racial, ethnic, religious, and political backgrounds—including Jewish, Arab, Black, Latino, and other communities who experience the impacts of racism and bigotry in complex and interconnected ways. My intent is not to diminish the reality of anti-Semitism or the pain it causes, but to advocate for a broader, principled, and universal approach to anti-racism—one that refuses to pit communities against one another and instead insists on solidarity, equity, and truth.

If anti-Semitism is to be truly defeated, it must be part of a broader anti-racist agenda—one that understands our collective liberation is bound together. Anything else is not justice. It’s control.