In the wake of the 2024 United States presidential election, “Give us Barabbas” emerged in progressive Christian social media circles as a pithy critique of those who voted for Donald Trump. But despite the evident good intentions behind its use, this phrase is more than just a pithy critique; it also functions as an anti-Jewish dogwhistle that promotes long standing stereotypes and misinformation about Jewish culpability in the crucifixion of Jesus.
The story of Barabbas originates in New Testament accounts of Jesus’s trial before Pontius Pilate, Roman governor of Judea in the first century. Pilate questions Jesus and finds him innocent, but to appease the local Jewish leaders and the assembled Jewish crowd, he offers a gesture of clemency: he agrees to release one prisoner in recognition of the Passover festival. The crowd must choose between Jesus, who is innocent, and a man named Barabbas, who is a dangerous criminal. Despite Pilate’s reluctance and attempts to sway them otherwise, the crowd insists, “Give us Barabbas” (Luke 23:18). Pilate agrees, and Jesus is killed.
The “Give us Barabbas” meme is clearly intended as a jab at voters who opted for a repugnant leader over presumably far better options. But such framing calls to mind the same judgments embedded in the New Testament accounts summarized earlier; like the crowd who chose Barabbas over Jesus, Trump supporters chose a corrupt and immoral figure to be their next leader. The analogy invokes layers of historical prejudice against Jewish people by reusing rhetoric that has often served as a shorthand for collective Jewish betrayal, moral blindness, and willful rejection of “the good.”
Several aspects of the crucifixion narratives in the New Testament have long been used to vilify Jews and specifically to blame them for the death of Jesus. For much of Christian history, Jews have been accused of being “Christ killers,” which, in addition to putting Jews at risk, also absolves the Roman authorities of any real responsibility for the execution.
A similar dynamic appears in popular uses of the term “Pharisee” as a synonym for “hypocrite,” where Christians use Pharisee to accuse each other of being duplicitous or overly concerned with the letter of the law. Likewise, whether deliberately or not, “Give us Barabbas” weaponizes an episode from the New Testament and depicts a certain segment of voters as a misguided or morally deficient crowd—a crowd that, historically, has been portrayed as Jewish. Blaming the election of Trump on this crowd sends a dangerous message.
While those who repeated “Give us Barabbas” put themselves in the role of Jesus’s true and loyal followers, the reality is that Christians in the United States are ultimately to blame for Trump’s victory. Shifting blame to the biblical crowd obscures the role of White Christians in electing the next president. On the morning after the election, New Testament scholar Mitzi J. Smith offered a refreshing critique of the “Give us Barabbas” meme. Trump supporters didn’t choose Barabbas, she writes, “They chose white Jesus!”
Smith’s reframing challenges the anti-Jewish use of the Barabbas analogy and invites a re-evaluation of the political situation. By asserting that Trump supporters “chose white Jesus,” Smith shifts the focus from a simplistic “good versus bad” choice to one that interrogates the alignment of White American Christianity with power, dominance, and nationalism.The meme presumably caught on in progressive circles because, as a “biblical” reference it was assumed to be harmless at worst, and at best an indictment that would sting fellow Christians.
More than just an analogy for the selection of a problematic leader, “Give us Barabbas” taps into historical images and stereotypes of collective blame, moral deficiency, and dangerous crowd behavior—concepts that Christian rhetoric has, for centuries, tied to the Jewish people. And unlike more overtly antisemitic language, the biblical nature of this phrase allows anti-Jewish prejudice to hide and spread in plain sight. Recognizing this toxic rhetoric should prompt an ongoing need for vigilance when it comes to the language used in public and private discourse. “Give us Barabbas” is but the most recent reminder that the words we choose often travel with connotations that go far beyond what may have been intended.
