In my previous essay, “Trump’s Broken Promise: From ‘America First’ to ‘America Only’ – and Antisemitism,” I argued that the recent resurgence of antisemitic language on parts of the political right is not random. It is not primarily about Jews themselves. It is about the failure of a nationalist vision that promised clarity, cohesion, and self-sufficiency but could not deliver them. When “America First” failed to produce a workable national philosophy—when it offered anger without structure and belonging without definition—it faced an internal crisis. Rather than revise the ideology, some within the movement began looking for a saboteur. Throughout history, Jews have filled that role because they are the boundary case for nationalism: a people whose history reveals the weaknesses of narrow, closed identities.

I argued that antisemitism works as an ideology’s fail-safe. When a populist movement is unable to deliver on its promises, it explains failure by pointing to unseen Jewish interference. Jews serve as a symbol of globalization, diffusion, and complexity, the things that threaten the closed, bordered, simplistic worldview of nationalist ideology. The “dual loyalty” charges and conspiracy theories resurface not because anything has changed about Jewish power, but because the ideology cannot face up to reality in a complex, interdependent world.

The present analysis of the Carlson–Huckabee interview reinforces that argument in real time. What we see in that exchange is not simply harsh criticism of Israel. We see the same displacement of responsibility that I described earlier. American political complexity—war policy, diplomatic entanglements, institutional opacity—is not treated as the product of American decisions within a global system. Instead, it is framed as the result of external pressure and foreign control. Sovereignty is said to be compromised. Institutions are described as captured. The ideological failure of nationalist self-sufficiency is repaired by attributing authorship elsewhere.

In other words, the interview illustrates the mechanism I previously outlined. When “America First” becomes “America Only,” it cannot tolerate evidence that modern power is interconnected and shared. Rather than admit that no nation operates in isolation, the narrative shifts toward the claim that America is not acting freely at all. That move preserves nationalist innocence. It also reopens the explanatory space where antisemitism thrives—not necessarily through overt hatred, but through the suggestion that someone else is secretly in charge.

The Tucker Carlson–Mike Huckabee interview is not alarming because it is emotional, though the rhetoric Carlson uses intends to build a case for antisemitic tropes. It is also alarming because of the story it tells about power. The conversation builds a steady argument that the American government does not fully act on its own when it comes to Israel. The suggestion is not simply that Israel has influence, but that Israel overrides American decision-making. That shift—from influence to control—is where the deeper problem begins. The issue is the way responsibility is reassigned.

To be clear, criticizing Israeli policy is not antisemitic. In a democracy, you should be able to question military aid, intelligence sharing, or war planning. But there is a difference between arguing that an ally has influence, or even too much influence, and arguing that your own government is no longer sovereign. When criticism turns into the claim that American officials “always” put Israel first, something changes. Policy disagreement becomes a story about submission. The focus moves from debating decisions to doubting who is really in charge. That is the line where ordinary foreign policy critique turns into something structurally different.

Throughout the interview, Carlson repeatedly suggests that American institutions are not acting independently. Congress, the White House, and diplomats are described as though they are constrained by Israel in a way that overrides their own judgment. That framing does not just criticize choices; it questions authorship. If the United States is consistently acting at Israel’s demand, then American leaders are not responsible actors—they are instruments. The message, whether stated directly or not, is that sovereignty has been compromised. That claim is much stronger than saying an ally has influence.

Historically, antisemitism has operated in this same way. It has portrayed Jews not simply as a minority group but as the hidden force behind political and economic systems. Jews were said to control finance, media, or governments without responsibility. Not only did Jews take part in society, it was said, but they secretly ran it. In contemporary discourse, where explicit racial language is unacceptable, the pattern often reappears with ‘Israel’ substituted for ‘the Jews.’ The Jewish state becomes the central force shaping outcomes behind the scenes. The language changes. The structure remains.

The discussion of Jonathan Pollard shows how this shift works. A reasonable question about why Huckabee met with a convicted spy quickly turns into talk about “dual loyalty.” Once that phrase enters the conversation, the issue is no longer just one individual’s crime. It puts Jewish loyalty itself on trial. When that question is posed, responsibility shifts again. Instead of demanding an answer for choices made by American institutions, the audience is left to question whether those institutions are too Jewish to be trusted. The emphasis is transferred from policy to identity. That’s a major shift.

Modern democracies make this kind of story easier to believe. Government decisions are complex. Policies are shaped by many factors—voters, donors, defense contracts, alliances, intelligence briefings, party politics. It is hard to trace any single outcome back to one clear cause. When people feel frustrated or confused, they look for a simple explanation. It is much easier to say that one foreign country is pulling the strings than to sort through layers of domestic incentives. The simple explanation is emotionally satisfying. It restores clarity.

Antisemitism has often provided that clarity. It offers a single author behind complicated systems. Instead of saying, “Our leaders made these decisions,” it says, “They were pressured into them.” Rather than asking how American politics functions, it imputes intent. That move shelters the sense that “we” have clean hands. If policy failures result from foreign manipulation, domestic culpability is diminished. Blame can be placed elsewhere. Introspection is not required.

In the interview, this dynamic is evident over and over. American war strategy is characterized as being executed at Israel’s behest. Diplomatic gestures are interpreted as kowtowing. Security protocols are interpreted as muscle flexing. All lead to the same outcome: a sense that American officials are not acting in the interest of the American public. With that sense comes a suspicion of institutions. People begin to see their government as permanently captured rather than politically accountable.

The theological debate in the interview adds another layer. Christian support for Israel is portrayed not as one political factor among many, but as evidence of irrational influence. When you blame “believers” for political decisions, instead of acknowledging the role voters, religious communities, and strategists all play in shaping policy, you are describing not just a government, but a whole society, as behaving irrationally. Once again, institutions are stripped of agency. Decisions are not debated; they are compelled by ideology or the lobbying of foreign powers. The result is suspicion.

None of this is to say there is no Israeli influence. Allies have influence on one another. Governments lobby. Political coalitions reflect shared interests regardless of national origin. These are all ordinary realities of world politics. But there is a difference between saying “Israel has influence” and saying “America is controlled.” Influence is contained within systems; control supersedes them. When influence is instead described as domination, the anti-Israel story crosses into conspiracy theory.

The danger of this narrative goes beyond anti-Israel sentiment. It is what it does to confidence in democracy. If people believe their country is consistently acting on behalf of a foreign power, they lose faith in the possibility of political change. Elections become futile. Policies are set in stone. Sovereignty is a sham. When that occurs, frustration breeds resentment. And in the face of resentment, people look for someone to blame.

Antisemitism operates here because it provides a path to assign blame that is easy to understand. Antisemitism doesn’t require hate speech, at least at first; it just requires denying institutional responsibility for visible actions, and instead transferring it all to the Jews. The interview shows how easily that shift can happen in modern language. It sounds like a defense of national dignity. On the surface, it looks like patriotism, but structurally it is a repetition of an old pattern: When something has gone wrong, someone else must be responsible.

Antisemitism does not begin as raw hatred, though it frequently ends there. It persists because it offers an appealing explanation when things go wrong. It says that someone else is in control; it says that your leaders aren’t making choices, they are following orders. It says that your leaders aren’t inspired, they are bribed. That message feels powerful. But history shows that once a society adopts that way of thinking, the consequences rarely remain confined to foreign policy.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)