Don't hang out with people who praise Adolf Hitler! It should seem like an easy guideline for anyone to follow, as well as the personal preference of most people. But for Republicans in Texas, asking them to stay away from neo-Nazis is seen very differently. To conspiratorially-minded conservatives, it is a "Marxist" plot against them. Which is why, on Saturday, leaders of the Republican Party of Texas voted down a resolution barring members from associating with anyone "known to espouse or tolerate antisemitism, pro-Nazi sympathies or Holocaust denial."
That that this even had to be put up for a vote is a sign that the "don't pal around with Nazis" rule is viewed by many in the Texas Republican Party as too onerous a restriction. This entire situation started in October when it was revealed that Jonathan Stickland, a former state representative and current leader of the Defend Texas Liberty PAC, held a 7-hour meeting with some of the most repugnant people in American society, including Nick Fuentes, a loudmouthed Hitler apologist who has called for "holy war" on Jews and declared, "all I want is revenge against my enemies and a total Aryan victory." Matt Rinaldi, the chair of the Republican Party of Texas, was also seen entering the building during this time but denies being at the meeting, despite being an outspoken ally of Stickland and his far-right agenda.
The discovery of this meeting with Fuentes, who denies the history of the Holocaust and has declared it a "good thing" to be compared to Hitler, caused an uproar at the Texas Capitol, which has a strong Republican majority. Texas House Speaker Dade Phelan declared that this was no "casual misstep" but a sign "of the moral, political rot that has been festering in a certain segment of our party."
It shouldn't be controversial to denounce, as Phelan did, "the tacit endorsement of such vile ideologies" as Nazism. But from the get-go, his "Nazis bad" stance has drawn Phelan grief from other Republicans in the state. Lt. Gov. Dan Patrick, while claiming to oppose Fuentes, nonetheless saved his real anger for Phelan, calling on the speaker to resign after revealing this bold "no Nazis" stance. Other leaders, including Rinaldi, decided they would rather have a semantic debate over terms like "tolerate" and "anti-semitism" than face the uncomfortable question of why one needs to take 7-hour meetings with a Holocaust denier. During the referendum on whether or not to bar members from bro-ing down with Nazis, many Republicans saw leftist plots in even being asked to ponder the question, as the Texas Tribune reports:
In at-times tense debate on Saturday, members argued that words like “tolerate” or “antisemitism” were too vague or subjective. The ban, some argued, was akin to “Marxist” and “leftist” tactics, and would create guilt by association that could be problematic for the party, its leaders and candidates.
“It could put you on a slippery slope,” said committee member Dan Tully.
After all, Donald Trump has himself had dinner with Nick Fuentes. If the head of their party thinks dining with Hitler apologists is okay, who are they to argue?
Phelan was exasperated after the vote. On Twitter, he groused that the committee "can’t even bring themselves to denounce neo-Nazis and Holocaust deniers."
That Stickland would go there with Fuentes is sadly not surprising. His entire career in Texas politics has been about right-wing trolling, often geared at fellow Republicans he deems not far enough to the right. When he was a legislator, Stickland hung a sign that read "Former Fetus" outside his office, which he intended as an anti-abortion statement, a reading less apparent to those who know of his career. He also defended marital rape on Facebook, writing, "Rape is non existent in marriage, take what you want my friend!”
Stickland's grossness goes beyond cheap tricks, however. He's long been the face of a billionaire-backed effort to paint the current Texas GOP as somehow too "liberal" and force them as far to the right as possible. Billionaire brothers Dan and Farris Wilks, for instance, have been pouring money, much of it through the Defend Texas Liberty PAC, into the unsubtle goal of reforming the already far-right state into a Christian nationalist theocracy. This is no exaggeration, as Farris Wilks has been recorded arguing for the destruction of "the secular religion of man" and instead calling for Americans to "submit to Elohim, who has the right to give us laws and commandments to follow since he is the one who created us." He's viciously homophobic, as well, claiming, "this lifestyle is a predatorial lifestyle in that they need your children and straight people having kids to fulfill their sexual habits." He's described modern society as "not a sexual revolution particular to our own enlightened age, but it's a return to pre-Christian pagan sexual immorality or perversion," and argued that "our country died that Tuesday night" that Barack Obama was elected president.
The Wilks are a major source of funding for Republicans, including Sen. Ted Cruz, in Texas. They also have some, um, interesting views of Jews of their own. Farris Wilks is a pastor of the Assembly of Yahweh (7th Day Adventist) church, which openly appropriates Jewish identity to justify Wilks's esoteric but extremely authoritarian views on religion. (For instance, women are not allowed to speak in church.) As right-wing researcher Peter Montgomery explained in the American Prospect, "It combines biblical literalism with a heavy emphasis on the Old Testament: The church celebrates its Sabbath on Saturday, follows the dietary rules laid down in Leviticus, and celebrates Jewish holidays but not 'the religious holidays of the Gentiles,' which include 'Christmas, Easter, Valentine's Day, White Sunday, Good Friday, and Halloween.'"
(Yes, for all the GOP's moaning about the fictional liberal "war on Christmas," they play handmaiden to this billionaire who literally forbids the holiday.)
As Jay Michaelson at the Forward wrote, the church uses "the trappings of Jewish observance," including a "shofar blast," a menorah in their log, and sermons featuring Wilks using — and often butchering — Hebrew words. Michaelson is understandably made uncomfortable by all this, writing, "I might join in an Assembly of Yahweh attempt to sing 'Hinei Ma Tov.' But I also know they want to put people like me in jail." (Michaelson is gay.)
All of this underscores what the likely concerns of the 32 Texas GOP leaders who voted against this resolution. They might be willing to cut Fuentes loose. After all, even Trump hasn't (as far as we know) dined with his young Holocaust-denying companion again. But a lot of the billionaires they look to for funding and support have some troubling views and intellectual fascinations of their own that might be challenging under the proposed bar on those who "espouse or tolerate antisemitism, pro-Nazi sympathies or Holocaust denial."
What about Harlan Crow, the billionaire benefactor of Clarence Thomas, who collects Nazi memorabilia? Among Crow's prized possessions are two paintings by Hitler, a signed copy of "Mein Kampf" and an array of swastika-festooned home decor.
Let’s normalize Supreme Court Justices (Clarence Thomas) not taking secret gifts from billionaire donors (Harlan Crow) who collect Nazi memorabilia.https://t.co/1myzEag73E pic.twitter.com/lQ97HxXC2a
— Keith Boykin (@keithboykin) April 8, 2023
Then there's Elon Musk, the tech CEO who recently praised a tweet claiming "Jewish communties" [sic] push "the dialectical hatred against whites." Musk has been a hero to the right since he took over Twitter, unbanning thousands of accounts that had previously been removed for disinformation and bigotry, including many Nazi-linked accounts. And, of course, there's Trump himself, who has been speaking of Americans who disagree with him as "vermin" to "root out," language the Washington Post said is "echoing dictators Hitler, Mussolini." The concerns about a "slippery slope" begin to come into view, when considering how many rich and powerful people on the right are camping out on that slope.
Phelan's efforts to stem this particular tide may be doomed. Republicans have been wailing for far too long about "cancel culture," arguing that it's a violation of free speech to shun, insult, or even openly dislike anyone who shares gross and bigoted views. Having equated "free speech" with a total lack of consequences when the targets are women, LGBTQ people, or racial minorities, it's hard to cordon off anti-semitism as the one bigotry not allowed. Texas Republicans have long been the vanguard of the extremism the rest of the party will soon embrace, and this is likely to be no exception.
