Title: The Armed Jew: The Case for Jewish Gun Ownership
By: Adam L. Fuller
Wicked Son Publishers
American Jews are at a tipping point. Both sides of the political spectrum have pockets of antisemitic extremists, leaving many Jews feeling not just politically homeless, but afraid of what is to come. Adam Fuller’s The Armed Jew responds aptly to this moment by making a well-reasoned case for Jewish self-defense through gun ownership.
Most people do not associate American Jews with guns, a fair assumption given that most Jews are indifferent or averse to gun ownership. In polls, Jews consistently have the least favorable attitudes towards guns of any ethnic group, with many supporting stronger gun control or even repealing the Second Amendment.
Before listing the benefits of guns, Fuller deconstructs Jews’ negative presumptions about them. While it is intuitive that many Jews fear guns getting into the wrong hands, Fuller argues that guns don’t have to be explicitly “tools of the antisemite,” especially if we start arming ourselves preemptively. He begs the question: why do so many Jews assume defeat rather than assuming a level playing field and exercising their freedoms to protect themselves?
This gets to what I found to be the book’s most profound revelation. It is not just that those outside the Jewish community see American Jews as weaklings who cannot defend themselves; it is that too often we see ourselves this way.
Fuller does not then scold the reader into action. Rather, he explores a fascinating, untold segment of history. He recalls the gun-toting Jews of the Wild West, which we imagine as untamed and lawless terrain – the antithesis of the timidity and studiousness commonly associated with Jews. He invokes figures like Jim H. Levy, a Jewish bounty hunter renowned for his gunmanship, Battle of Shiloh war hero David Urbansky, and my home district’s own Boris Mikhailovich, a Belarussian immigrant who rose to power through the Brighton Beach mafia. This book will delight anyone who loves a historical niche and, more critically, provide the (likely Jewish) reader with an image of himself he is not used to seeing: not weak, not the target of persecution, not a victim, but strong, capable, and self-reliant.
As a proud gun-owner myself, I find my fellow Jews’ animus toward guns to be misguided, given our history of persecution spanning different regions and time periods. While we have largely been correct in trusting our institutions thus far, we must remember that state-sanctioned violence has hurt us more than anything else.
During these incredibly challenging times for Jews in America, this book is an essential tool in helping our communities embrace our Second Amendment right to take security into our own hands. The Armed Jew compels us to have an uncomfortable but necessary conversation regarding responsible gun ownership within the Jewish community. Learning armed self-defense may one day not be a mere option, but an essential tool for survival. And if we can’t defend our own communities, how can we expect anyone else to?