I was one of the most prominent and viral antisemites in the world. Swattings and attacks on my family didn’t pull me out of it. They pushed me deeper. What helped pull me out was a two-hour conversation over coffee with a religious Jew who was never once offended by anything I said, and I think the people fighting antisemitism need to hear why that worked.

For a long time, the standard approach to people like me was to label and shame but not to engage. For example, many Jewish organizations and scholars hold a firm policy of refusing to debate Holocaust deniers. I understand the reasoning: a debate can make the other side seem legitimate. But in practice, what replaces the debate is the label, the boycott, the censorship, and the public example. Seek and destroy.

My argument, from my own experience, is that this gets the order backwards. The first response to an antisemite should be to de-escalate, debunk, and deradicalize. Destroying someone’s life should be the last resort to prevent violence, not the first. I’m not writing this from a position of arrogance. I’m writing it as someone the first strategy created but was deradicalized by the second.

We always hear that antisemitism is a unique form of hatred. I agree, because Jewishness itself is an unusual identity: ethnic, religious, and national at once, and Jews don’t even agree among themselves on how those strands fit together. A Jew can be secular and a Zionist or religious and an anti-Zionist. That matters, because the entire antisemitic worldview depends on Jews being a malevolent monolith, wearing different masks to fool the goyim.

Jews, especially Ashkenazi Jews in the West, have excelled in fields like mathematics, science, finance, and media, so they are disproportionately visible wherever they live, in good things and, unfortunately, in bad things. What antisemites, my former self included, fail to notice is that this isn’t unique to Jews. Europeans are majorities in the West but a global minority, disproportionately represented in both great achievements and great crimes, and you can see the same logic in BLM-era rhetoric against White people. The pattern forms whenever a minority is disproportionately successful and still looks like an “other.” I expect Indian-Americans, who have risen quickly to lead major corporations, to face the same kind of resentment, and online you can already see the early shape of it.

For most of history, antisemitism was religious. Christians condemned Jews for killing Christ. In theory, a Jew could escape that by converting, but even that door kept closing: Spain’s conversos converted and were hunted by the Inquisition anyway. Racial antisemitism, which emerged in the late 1800s and peaked with the Nazis, offers no door at all. That’s the kind I subscribed to. I believed Jews had a proclivity for certain behaviors and that whether an individual Jew was good or bad, Jews as a whole were bad for my people.

Once you accept that premise, the “solution” to the so-called Jewish problem can only be expulsion or extermination. I was never an exterminationist. Even at my worst, I told myself the peaceful answer was for us to live apart. I’ve since had to face that it was the same premise with a gentler ending. I do think we can all get along, but we must share the same values and be honest with each other.

People fighting antisemitism often explain it as jealousy. But from someone who was on the inside, it never was about any sort of jealousy. When a race realist looks at Jews in positions of power, he feels he’s lost sovereignty over a country his ancestors founded. If these Jews in positions of power are able to effect massive changes to his society that he deems negative, he’s naturally going to blame them.

Imagine if Arabs, who are a minority in Israel, dominated its media, academia, and financial system. Imagine if these Muslims promoted laws against Islamophobia and pursued special interests that harmed the majority of the Israelis. Even if those Arabs were benevolent, Israeli Jews would feel they no longer had sovereignty over their own land. That’s what I felt.

But that feeling rested on a premise I never examined: racial antisemites see all those Jewish names as a group with one will. The secular Zionist and the religious anti-Zionist, the senator and the donor funding his opponent.

So, it was never about jealousy but about sovereignty; not seeing the average American Jew as a fellow American made them an other, even when they suffered under the same rule of the political elite. The average Jew doesn’t get special benefits just because some of the elites are Jewish billionaires. That’s like thinking the average White person benefits just because there are White billionaires.

I was the kind of racial antisemite who was all-in. The frame I lived in predicted I’d be attacked, so every attack confirmed it. The boycott, the censorship, the label, the public example: every one of those confirmed exactly what I already believed about a powerful, coordinated group.

Shame only works on people who share your values. It works inside a community, on someone who cares what the people shaming him think. But an antisemite already sees Jews and Jewish organizations as the enemy, so their condemnation doesn’t register as shame. It registers as a badge of honor. The louder they condemned me, the more the people around me took it as proof I was over the target, and the more I believed it too. You can’t shame someone out of a movement whose values are defined against you.

When Kanye West’s antisemitic rants cost him Adidas and his other major deals, those were companies deciding they didn’t want their names next to his. Inside the movement, nobody saw it that way. They saw a billionaire silenced overnight, and they filed it as proof. When Elon Musk, after his fight with the ADL over advertisers, apologized publicly and then visited Israel and Auschwitz, antisemites said, “Look, even the richest man in the world has to bow to them.”

The label “anistemite” itself is being worn down, too. When Greta Thunberg, known for her anti-Israel activism, lands on the same top-ten antisemites list as Dan Bilzerian, the word stops meaning anything specific. She may be an anti-Zionist. Whether that makes her an antisemite is exactly the distinction a list like that waters down.

Anti-Zionism deserves to be confronted on its own terms. Once a state exists, with millions of people born there, calling for its dismantlement isn’t a policy disagreement. It’s a demand that those people lose their country. But when every anti-Zionist and every antisemite gets the same label, people inside the movement conclude the word just means “anyone Jews don’t like.” Then they stop listening when it’s used on someone who has actually earned it. I was someone who earned it. Diminishing the word doesn’t reduce antisemitism—it makes more antisemites.

What pulled me out wasn’t Holocaust lectures or shame. It was a conversation based on facts after all the attacks stopped and the dust settled.

When I told everyone I decided to abandon antisemitism in February of this year, Jake Turx left a comment on my post and asked to meet up. My initial plan was just to make peace with Jews and vanish, to go on and focus on philosophy and self-improvement. When he reached out, I was hesitant at first, but I decided a meet up couldn’t hurt, and I wanted to actually build bridges like I said I would.

We met up for coffee. He started by asking how I was feeling and how I was doing. Then we went through everything: Israel, 9/11, Gaza, and the conspiracy theories I still held. For about two hours, every topic we could think of about antisemitism was on the table. It was cordial the whole way through. He was never offended. He didn’t accept my claims, and he didn’t just deny them either. He asked, “Why do you think that? What makes you think that?”

This approach was the key. Think about it: how would the conversation have gone if Jake used shaming tactics and brought up the Holocaust? The old playbook would have driven me away. More importantly, he didn’t deny history as it’s actually recorded, including the uncomfortable parts, like Jewish overrepresentation among early communist leaders. He just dealt with the points. But he also taught me how those things also led to Jewish persecution in Russia, how religious Jews were treated, and other things I didn’t know.

I brought experience as an antisemite to the table. I told him about the hypocrisies and contradictions I’d caught in the JQ movement. The movement demanded that every Jew answer for the worst Jew and never held itself to that standard. Once I saw that the rule only ran in one direction, I couldn’t help but snap out of it.

That coffee led to my first podcast interview, on Living Lchaim with Yaakov Langer, with Jacob there on camera as the friend who introduced us. The episode reached a lot of people, and it led to more private conversations with both of them afterward. That’s when I really got to see these two religious Jews up close and how kind, forgiving, and honest they were. They weren’t arrogant. They weren’t supremacists. They were nothing like what I’d been taught they would be. In fact, we shared the same issues with the same people because we actually shared, for the most part, the same values.

This meeting didn’t have to take place, but it did. Part of it came from Jews who had a curiosity about me; the other part came from me wanting peace after 14 years of fighting with Jews. The conservation cost us nothing, and a bridge was built between peoples.

This meeting led to more conversations with more Jews, both in private and on other podcasts, with rabbis, and even making peace with former enemies, such as David Lange. Speaking to both American and Israeli Jews led me to learn more history about Israel/Palestine, bringing more nuance to the conflict, rather than the one-sided story I got after Oct 7.

So, peaceful and cordial conversations. That’s the approach I’m asking Jewish people and organizations to adopt.

Conversation only works if you can answer what you hear. When I was inside, most of what I believed about Jews came from a handful of claims passed around the Internet, antisemitic books I read, and figures in the movement I trusted. Almost nobody I knew had fact-checked any of them. Neither had I. I believed Jews were behind 9/11 for years without once opening the 9/11 Commission report. When I finally read it, after I had already left, what I found was al-Qaeda’s plot, documented in detail.

Take, for example, the various Talmud quotes that circulate online. Some are outright fabrications or misunderstandings, such as the claim that the Talmud allows marriage to a three-year-old. This is absolutely false and is easily debunked. But be honest about the hard parts, too. If you tell someone there’s nothing difficult in the Talmud and he finds one real passage, you’ve lost him, and you’ve confirmed his suspicion that you were hiding something. It’s far more convincing to say, “Yes, that line is real, here’s what it’s actually discussing, here’s how Jewish commentators have read it, and here’s why it doesn’t mean what you were told.”

Answer the claim; attack the belief, not the man holding it, and do it with compassion. That takes a particular kind of patience: knowing who you’re talking to and answering false claims without hostility. It can be learned, and I think it’s worth cultivating. Someone who has been told for years that Jews will try to destroy him has nowhere to put a Jew who simply answers his question. If Jews run away from debates and refuse to engage with antisemites, it seems like they have something to hide, which fits the “subversive, lying Jew” trope.

I’m not saying conversation works on everyone. Against those who truly want to harm Jewish people, defend yourselves with everything you lawfully can. When people treated my rhetoric as a threat, they were right to. Although I knew I would never harm a Jew, my rhetoric was indistinguishable from the rhetoric of someone who meant it. But not everyone who says those things is that person.

I’ve tried to live by what I’m asking of you. When you leave a movement, like I did with the JQ, the people you left have a lot to say about you, and a lot of it is ugly. I haven’t answered any of it, and I don’t intend to. I know how that frame works from the inside, and contempt can’t break it. If I answered them the way they expected, they would hate me more, and it would only reinforce their beliefs. That is why the only thing I’ve been doing is posting the facts I’ve discovered and ignoring all the personal attacks and lies being spread about me.

There are many people I’ve turned into antisemites who I still want to reach. If they’re ever going to leave it, it will be through the same kind of conversation that reached me: honest, calm, with no covering up uncomfortable history and no excuses for anyone’s bad behavior. The order matters. De-escalate first, debunk the claims, and give the person room to deradicalize, because destroying the ones who could still be reached turns them into the ones who can’t.

I changed when the dust settled and the people across from me were willing to talk. If the censorship and the attacks had never stopped, when would I have been calm enough to even consider that I was wrong?

It’s been several months since I’ve written on here because I deleted my previous Substack. I wanted to get away from the old crowd completely, even though deleting it cost me thousands. I grew tired of feeling obligated to hold on to something I had to let go, even if I was getting paid for it. The same was the case with my Rumble channel and my Shopify store. No amount of money was worth being connected to anyone from that world. It all had to go.

So why come back on here?

In the last three months, I have been sitting in silence, observing everything being said about me by former allies, former friends, and even former enemies. This period of silence was necessary for my personal growth, to learn how to endure nonstop attacks, to not care about being misunderstood or or even hated for the wrong reasons, and to endure the loss of having to accept that I had been in the wrong place for decades. Watching everyone come up with all sorts of narratives about me on their own was very interesting to see, because I refused to explain myself to anyone, so their imaginations ran wild.

Those who did their due diligence would have learned the logical progression that led me out of the JQ movement from the six interviews I did. But most people, feeling betrayed or having personal grievances toward me, especially the grifters I exposed, took the opportunity to spread lies and false narratives without pushback. The old me would have tried to refute every single attack, but I didn’t care anymore. I let these lies and false narratives spread as far as possible, acting as filters to remove everyone who fell for them from my life.

Learning to be silent was one half of the healing process.

The other half began during my appearance on the Jeremy Boreing Show. Jeremy suggested that I go back in time and reevaluate my beliefs, which he believed all stemmed from the combined trauma of 9/11 and the Iraq War. I left the show with that idea in mind, which led me to go back and reexamine everything.

After five more interviews with different people, I saw different perspectives I refused to look at for 14 years. This new information opened new doors—doors that I didn’t bother to open because I thought the only things behind them were lies. It was only after I opened those doors that I realized the room I was living in was also a lie.

For 20 years I have been ashamed of my service. The shame began with learning that the Iraq War was based on lies, that we were the bad guys. When I learned 9/11 was an inside job, this only made everything worse.

From 2006 to 2026, I was so anti-war that I basically became anti-American. I believed Al Qaeda was a CIA creation that did 9/11 on behest of Israel, the Jews, and special interests. When Bin Laden was killed in 2011, I thought it was just another lie to justify our fake war on terror. I thought the same when Trump claimed al-Baghdadi was killed in 2019, because I thought ISIS was another creation of the CIA/Mossad. Essentially, I believed all terrorists were just our puppets that we used as proxies to dominate the poor and innocent Arabs in the Middle East.

My trauma and guilt made me the perfect propagandist, not only for the JQ movement, but also what I later came to learn as the Red-Green Alliance.

A few weeks ago, I realized that every time I went viral over the last four years—whether it was Boom Boom Tel Aviv, my video on Aaron Bushnell, or my viral video on Russia/Ukraine—it was always because of influencers from the Red-Green Alliance.

I also noticed figures from the Red-Green Alliance were lying about all kinds of things—Bibi being dead; airstrikes that never happened; and knowingly promoting that Israel killed Charlie Kirk when I knew several of these figures who told me they didn’t believe it, but they pushed it to hurt Israel. Just like figures in the JQ movement, these supposed pious and honest Muslims, who pride themselves in never lying, were lying just as much as everyone else. When I started calling them out, they started lying about me. When I disagreed on Gaza being a genocide by definition, this was the final straw. I noticed what these people really were, and I saw they were never allies of the West, America, or even Whites; they were just using us for their anti-Zionist and anti-Western agenda.

Further research led me to learn about the anti-Zionist psyops the Soviet Union ran against Israel after the Six-Day War, from 1967 to 1988. The goal was to turn the Arab nations into antisemitic and anti-Zionist fronts against Israel. I started to see a connection between these pro-Iran, pro-Palestine, and pro-Russia accounts. I even started to see a connection between neo-Nazis, White nationalists, and pro-Russia accounts. I realized the Red-Green Alliance had shaped itself into the Red-Green-Brown (Nazis) Alliance, and I was unknowingly part of it since Oct 7th.

Once I began to call out this alliance, suddenly all masks fell off from my so-called Muslim friends and allies. Finally, they realized the stupid American is of no use to them.

The suicidal guilt that drove me to be anti-Zionist, anti-America, and anti-West had died off because I realized Americans like me, especially war veterans, were being weaponized against our own country with shame and guilt from our service, while these other countries, running proxy wars and invasions, were not checked by these figures, nor did they promote any guilt or shame.

Just a few days ago, I read, for the first time in 20 years, the 9/11 Commission Report Executive Summary, the 28 declassified pages of the 2002 Joint Inquiry Commission on 9/11, and even reviewed the internal dialogue of the Bush administration’s reasons for invading Iraq. Once I realized 9/11 wasn’t an inside job, my heart broke. This time it wasn’t just a sense of betrayal but also guilt—how many other Americans did I make anti-American? Did any of my rhetoric drive any of my fellow servicemen to suicide?

At the same time my heart broke, the 20 years of extreme shame and guilt were released from my body. Although extremely anxious, I froze for a few moments. I stood there in silence. A feeling washed over me. This was the near instant death of the shame and guilt. I've grown so accustomed to betrayal over the years—from friends, from allies, and from people in life in general—that this was just another betrayal like the rest.

But a new feeling began to emerge. Something I haven’t felt in decades: a form of pride.

I realized my signing up for the Marine Corps was not based on a lie at all. My desire to go fight for my country was not in vain at all. Although the Iraq War was certainly propagandized and had special interests behind it, we should still ensure all terrorists and enemy regimes get the memo: anyone who attacks America will be crushed, and this chaotic region will be brought to heel. That was probably part of the Bush administration’s plan, and it didn’t go as well as they thought. Regardless, this pride in me was also accompanied by a new passion: I see another enemy, similar to the ones who attacked us on 9/11. All anti-Western ideologies and forces, even if they didn’t attack us, absolutely want to attack us and would do so if they could.

Since making peace with Jews months prior, escaping antisemitic extremism, getting to know them, and putting that chapter behind me, I had already felt much better. But this reconnection to a part of myself I had suppressed due to enemy guilt propaganda reignited in me a patriotism for my country. I now clearly saw all the propaganda, all the moving parts working against us, even from the so-called pro-White types who call our troops ZOGbots, who paradoxically always brag about how great our race was at imperialism and colonialism, but for some reason, we shouldn’t be in the Middle East, because that’s immoral.

Even these Nietzschean-minded types have been softened by the Red-Green Alliance propaganda, thinking Americans have no interests at all in the Middle East because they have been so consumed by antisemitism; anything to do with Jews is always bad. I guess they believe it’s much better that Iran get nukes and run the region, that Putin takes all of Ukraine, and that China absorbs Taiwan, just to hurt the Jews and Israel. They have lost complete sight of the Grand Chessboard that is geopolitics and have merged with these voices, becoming part of the RGB Alliance.

But I have awakened from this trance and reject all of these voices.

I say, no! America must never stop being the great superpower that it is. We must not allow ourselves to be demoralized, to call ourselves “stupid Americans” or “ZOGbots” or anything else our enemies have guilted us into calling ourselves. We must maintain our military power in every region we possibly can, because the people telling us not to are our enemies. These jihadists and authoritarian governments are not better for the world. They cannot police themselves, let alone their neighbors. They lack the might and the minds that we have. That’s why the only way to destroy America is to convince Americans to destroy themselves.

I used to be one of these types of anti-America Americans, falling for this suicidal, guilt propaganda, but no more! America may not be perfect, but she is still the best country in the world, and I'm done being ashamed of being an American.