Deez Interviews: Daniel Lombroso on how making a doc about the alt-right changed his relationship with his sense of identity
This week’s interview is with documentary filmmaker Daniel Lombroso, who is such a pal that he is actually one of the ORIGINAL Deez Links interviews from 2017, where he talked about his covering nationalism for The Atlantic. So this week, I had to get Dan back in the hot seat again to talk about the debut of his first feature film, White Noise, which is the culmination of the past four years he’s spent investigating the alt-right movement in the U.S.
I’ve had the privilege of seeing the film come together and will say I’ve found it very smart and nuanced — but of course, there’s a lot of controversy about the doc given the subject matter. So Dan and I talked about the issue of platforming, what it was like covering the alt-right as a Jewish man, and the general toll of undertaking this scale of an investigation.
Let's tackle the elephant in the room: the criticism surrounding White Noise posits that the film gives the alt right an unnecessary platform, and possibly even goes on to "humanize" personalities like Lauren Southern and Richard Spencer in going behind the scenes of their lives. What's your response to someone who says the entire premise of this film is problematic?
I hear that critique and take it very seriously. Certainly, some coverage can glamorize or empower the group. But, I firmly believe that White Noise’s all-access approach weakens the alt-right – that by filming over three years, it exposes the shallowness and contradictions of their worldview, and holds them to account for their destruction and violence.
The alt-right recruits by promising their followers a more meaningful life. By focusing on their private lives – observing, not humanizing – White Noise exposes how foolish and dangerous the white nationalist narrative ultimately is. The alt-right is built on a lie.
Media shouldn’t elevate fringe figures – that’s why we ultimately played down Lucian Wintrich, among others – but Cernovich, Spencer, and Southern are mainstream. They have followings in the millions. Cernovich can start a meme from his couch – say the lie that Hillary is “sick” – and in days it’s coming out of the president’s mouth. They have power, whether we amplify it or not. The task then becomes how to hold that power to account.
Lastly, I’ll just add – it was in the production of this film that I caught followers yelling “Hail Trump” and breaking out into Nazi salutes in 2016. That viral clip, for the first time, exposed the alt-right as fundamentally a white nationalist movement. If I had chosen to ignore the group, we wouldn’t have that critical journalistic document. That experience taught me that far-right coverage can be essential, if done with rigor and care.
I'm very curious about your experience of reporting on the alt-right as a Jewish man, in terms of both the privileges and contradictions that were involved. Like on one hand, do you think your sources would have given you the same access if you were a journalist of color or a woman? But also, did you ever feel unsafe while reporting?
Two of my grandmothers are Holocaust survivors (one of whom advised on the film). My last name – which sounds Italian – gave me cover in some situations. But, once I was “exposed” for being Jewish (I always was honest when asked), I dealt with some pretty awful stuff – threats of physical violence, Nazi salutes and anti-Semitic language, and an endless stream of hate mail, much of it personalized. (One recent video attempted to prove that my grandmother is a fake survivor. Her parents and sister were killed in Nazi death camps.)
On the other hand, my whiteness and gender definitely gave me advantages. As mentioned, the film strives to get into rooms where racism and populism are being weaponized, and by doing so, to dismantle how absurd this whole project is.
I don’t know that a person of color would have ever been allowed into some of these spaces. In post-production, it was then key to make sure that my privileges didn’t affect the film’s construction. We built a team that is diverse – Jewish, POC, and majority female – and screened the film for writers and editors who study race and gender, and across the political spectrum.
And yes, since I work mostly as a one-man-band filmmaker, I felt unsafe at times, but believed that the work was important enough to keep going. The Atlantic was always there if things went haywire, or I needed support.
Going off of that, how did you build rapport with sources who identify with a belief system that still basically denies your humanity?
I spent thousands of hours across five countries with the subjects. Only 94 minutes of that reporting made the film.
It was hard to stay calm when constantly faced with age-old dog whistles, like about how the Rothschilds and a “global cabal” run the US government, not to mention sieg heils to my face. In off-camera moments, I would try to educate them – about what my family personally went through, about how fundamentally violent and destructive their ideas are, about the plight of people of color in the US. I take pride in that I changed the minds of a few cursory subjects – those who formerly believed Jews were vermin, but after meeting me, saw at least some humanity. Progress, I guess?
Ultimately, I didn’t want to let my personal background get in the way of the exposé, so I swallowed a lot, and pushed back strategically as it would benefit the film and its audience.
Speaking of getting personal, I want to do that here and ask what kind of emotional or existential toll making this film has taken on you. Did this experience change the relationship you have with your identity?
Yes, I think it did. I feel more proudly Jewish than before. I also feel that it’s more important than ever that the U.S. finally live up to its founding creed as a multiracial democracy, with justice and equality for all.
We’re at a hinge moment in history – white nationalism is rising, but the country is also more diverse than ever. Our ethnic or religious differences make us stronger. There needs to be a place in the world that’s truly committed to multiculturalism and equality, and I hope that with time, that can be us. I believe in the American project more than ever.
