On October 11, 2025, Minnesota Attorney General Keith Ellison found himself at the center of a political firestorm, the likes of which only social media’s unyielding memory can ignite. In a televised appearance on MSNBC, Ellison declared, “There really is no Antifa as an institutional organization… Nobody even knows what it is.” The comment, made in response to remarks by U.S. Attorney General Pam Bondi and Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem at a recent White House roundtable on political violence, was intended to cast doubt on the existence of the left-wing group often blamed for protests and unrest. But it didn’t take long for critics to unearth a contradiction from Ellison’s own past.
Just hours after his statement, users on X (formerly Twitter) began circulating an old photo of Ellison from 2018. In the image, he’s seen smiling, holding up a copy of Antifa: The Anti-Fascist Handbook by Mark Bray, a Rutgers University historian known for his antifascist scholarship. The caption Ellison wrote at the time was pointed: the book would “strike fear in the heart” of then-President Donald Trump. The post, now deleted, swiftly became a lightning rod for criticism.
According to Western Lensman, a conservative commentator who amplified the controversy, “Keith Ellison, Today: Nobody even knows what Antifa is. Keith Ellison, 2018: Tweets photo of himself holding Antifa handbook.” The implication was clear: Ellison’s attempt to downplay Antifa’s presence stood at odds with his own documented engagement with the group’s literature. For many on social media, the episode was an example of political hypocrisy—one that, in their eyes, confirmed suspicions about shifting narratives on the left.
Ellison’s remarks came at a particularly charged moment in American politics. The Trump administration, as reported by Western Lensman, had made a point of targeting Antifa, describing it as a “leftist group that’s been terrorizing the Left Coast for years.” The group has been accused of disrupting ICE raids, rioting, and assaulting political opponents at rallies. The administration’s efforts to “deconstruct” Antifa were part of a broader push to crack down on what it described as domestic extremism.
Yet, as Ellison argued on MSNBC, Antifa is not an organized institution but rather an amorphous collection of activists. “The first person I ever heard use the word Antifa was Donald J. Trump when he was going on about Charlottesville,” Ellison said, suggesting that the term itself had been popularized by political opponents rather than by the group’s own members. This assertion, however, did little to quell the online backlash.
Adding another layer to the story, Ellison’s son, Minneapolis City Councilman Jeremiah Ellison, had publicly declared his support for Antifa during the Black Lives Matter riots of 2020. According to reporting from the second article, Jeremiah Ellison wrote on X: “I hereby declare, officially, my support for ANTIFA. Unless someone can prove to me ANTIFA is behind the burning of black and immigrant owned businesses in my ward, I’ll keep focusing on stopping the white power terrorist THE ARE ACTUALLY ATTACKING US!” The younger Ellison’s statement underscored the family’s complicated relationship with the movement—publicly supportive in one context, dismissive of its existence in another.
For many conservatives, the episode was emblematic of what they view as the Democratic Party’s inconsistent messaging. As Western Lensman put it, “They’re making colossal errors because they have no principles, no core, no agenda, and no leaders.” The publication went on to link Ellison’s comments to broader Democratic strategies, including the ongoing government shutdown. Democrats, the outlet claimed, were “attempting to shut down the government over illegal alien health care and NPR funding, demanding $1.5 trillion for that project.” The shutdown, labeled by critics as the “Schumer Shutdown,” was portrayed as an effort to prioritize liberal causes over the needs of ordinary Americans.
Ellison’s case quickly became a flashpoint in the wider debate over the nature and threat of Antifa. While some on the left argue that Antifa is more of an ideology than an organization—lacking formal membership or leadership—conservatives have long insisted that the group is a real and dangerous force. The Trump administration’s focus on Antifa as a target for law enforcement only heightened these partisan divides. According to the reporting, “The Trump administration is dedicated to deconstructing Antifa, which has been involved in disrupting ICE raids and riots on the West Coast.”
Online reaction to Ellison’s comments was swift and, at times, scathing. Many users accused him of hypocrisy, pointing to the 2018 photo as evidence that he was well aware of Antifa’s existence. Others argued that his statements were emblematic of a broader trend among Democrats to distance themselves from controversial activist groups when politically convenient. “Keith, this photo—you cannot make this up,” wrote one commentator, echoing a sentiment widely shared on social media.
For Ellison and his supporters, the debate over Antifa is a distraction from more pressing issues. They argue that the focus on Antifa serves to deflect attention from other forms of political violence, particularly those associated with far-right groups. But for critics, Ellison’s shifting stance is a sign of deeper problems within the Democratic Party—a lack of coherence and consistency that, they claim, undermines public trust.
The controversy also reignited discussions about the role of social media in modern politics. As Western Lensman wryly noted, “your social media posts are forever. We’ll find them.” In an era where digital footprints can be resurrected at a moment’s notice, politicians face increasing scrutiny over past statements and actions. For Ellison, a single photo from 2018 was enough to cast doubt on his 2025 narrative—an object lesson in the power and peril of online transparency.
As the government shutdown dragged on, with Democrats and Republicans locked in a standoff over funding for healthcare and NPR, the debate over Antifa became yet another front in America’s ongoing culture wars. For some, Ellison’s comments were a minor gaffe; for others, they were a revealing glimpse into the challenges of political messaging in an age where every word and image can be weaponized.
In a political landscape defined by rapid change and relentless scrutiny, the Ellison-Antifa episode stands as a reminder that the past is never truly past—and that, in the digital age, every statement can come back to haunt you.
