u/ruchenn

Israel’s next great threat may not be Iran.,
by Joshua Hoffman, Future of Jewish, 2026-08-20.

 

> Abu al-Duhur is nowhere near Israel’s border. That makes Israel’s > action look disproportionate unless one understands what could > eventually be stationed there. > > The principal concern is not a few hundred Turkish soldiers. It is > what those soldiers might bring with them: drones, radar, > electronic-warfare equipment, combat aircraft and, most importantly, > advanced air-defense systems. > > Israel’s operational freedom over Syria has become one of its most > important strategic advantages. It has allowed Israel to attack > Iranian positions, weapons convoys, Hezbollah infrastructure, and > Syrian military installations without facing a serious air-defense > challenge. A Turkish-operated airbase equipped with modern radar and > surface-to-air missiles could begin closing that sky. > > Turkey would not need to attack Israel to change the balance. It > would merely need to make Israeli operations more detectable, > expensive, and dangerous. > > From Ankara’s perspective, the story looks different. Turkey argues > that it is helping Syria rebuild a national army after 14 years of > civil war. It wants a stable, centralized Syrian government capable > of restraining Kurdish forces, securing the Turkish border, and > facilitating the eventual return of Syrian refugees. Turkey regards > its military cooperation with Damascus as an agreement between two > sovereign governments. > > Israel sees a former jihadist movement governing Syria with Turkish > sponsorship. Ankara sees Israel bombing the institutions that might > prevent Syria from collapsing again. > > Both perspectives contain some truth. Neither country is acting out > of charity.

A mostly true history of Israel’s largest political party,
by Vanessa Berg, Future of Jewish, 2026-08-18.

 

> For the State of Israel’s first three decades, elections were > competitive. Political power was considerably less so. > > The names changed — Mapai, the Alignment, Labor — but the basic > arrangement remained remarkably stable: The political movement that > had built many of the institutions of the pre-state Yishuv (Jewish > communities in the Land of Israel prior to the founding of the State > of Israel in 1948) also governed the country after independence. > > Its leaders populated the cabinet. Its worldview shaped the > bureaucracy. Its economic institutions were woven through Israeli > life. Its cultural elite largely decided what respectable Zionism > looked and sounded like. > > And then there was Menachem Begin. > > Begin had commanded the Irgun (a Zionist paramilitary organization > that operated from 1931 to 1948), became the leader of Herut (a > major conservative political party) after the establishment of the > state, and spent decades sitting on the political margins while > Israel’s Labor (socialist) establishment ran the country. > > Today, knowing what came later, this feels almost impossible to > imagine. > > Likud has become so deeply associated with Israeli political power > that it can be difficult to remember that its political ancestors > were once the outsiders — which is important, because you cannot > understand Likud without understanding that. > > Likud was not born as the establishment. Likud was born as the > rebellion against it. And that may be the most important fact in > understanding why it eventually became Israel’s dominant political > party. > > Likud was formally created in 1973 as an electoral alliance bringing > together Begin’s Herut, the Liberal Party, and several smaller > movements on the Right. In its first election that year, it won 39 > seats — a significant showing, but still behind the governing > Alignment. > > Then came 1977. > > Israelis call what happened “HaMahapach” — the upheaval. That is > not journalistic exaggeration. Likud won 43 seats with 33 percent of > the vote, while the Alignment fell to 32. For the first time since > the State of Israel’s founding, the political movement descended > from Labor Zionism lost control of the government. Menachem Begin > became prime minister. > > It is tempting to explain this as a simple ideological shift to the > Right, but it was much more than that. The trauma of the 1973 Yom > Kippur War had badly damaged public confidence in the ruling > establishment. > > Something deeper had also been happening underneath Israeli society: > Large numbers of Mizrahi and Sephardi Jews (many of whose families > had arrived from the Middle East and North Africa) increasingly > believed that the Labor establishment had treated them as culturally > inferior, politically expendable, and socially peripheral. The 1977 > election, in part, was the moment when Mizrahi social protest moved > decisively into the political arena and helped carry Likud to power. > > Menachem Begin understood something the establishment often did not: > Politics is not merely about policy, it is about dignity. People do > not simply vote according to marginal tax rates, territorial maps, > and defense budgets. They vote according to who they believe sees > them. > > Begin saw Israelis who believed the old establishment did not. And > they remembered. > > This is one reason Likud’s relationship with many working-class, > traditional, Mizrahi, and peripheral communities became so durable. > It was not merely transactional. For many families it became > emotional, cultural, and eventually generational. > > You can disagree with that attachment. You cannot understand Israeli > politics without it.

How a 19th century murder introduced Americans to a Jewish funeral,
by Austin Albanese, Forward, 2026-08-16.

 

> In June 1857, newspapers from Philadelphia to St. Louis carried > reports of a shocking crime in western Massachusetts. Isaac Jackson, > a 17- or 18-year-old German Jewish peddler from Westfield, was shot > and robbed while traveling his route between the towns of Westfield > and Russell. His body was dragged to the bank of a river, concealed > beneath stones and debris, and not discovered until the following > day. Contemporary newspaper stories described it as one of western > Massachusetts’ most notorious murders in half a century. > > The crime quickly attracted national attention as accounts > proliferated, sometimes differing on details such as Jackson’s age. > Reporters described the search for his body, the arrest of Charles > Jones, known to readers as the “ministerial burglar,” and the > growing public anger that led some spectators to openly [discuss > lynching][] the accused before he could stand trial. > > The attention came decades before mass migration from Eastern Europe > transformed American Jewish life. The country’s Jewish population > numbered no more than 200,000. Yet Jackson’s murder became > national news, and newspapers far beyond Massachusetts used the > story of his funeral to explain Jewish burial and mourning customs > to their readers.

Nigeria has more than 100 synagogues — but no local rabbis. This summer camp wants to change that.,
by Simone Saidmehr, Forward, 2026-08-14.

 

> On summer mornings in Abuja, Nigeria, a small fleet of cars fan out > across the sprawling capital city carrying unusual passengers: > children headed to Jewish day camp. > > In a one-story synagogue on a dirt road in Kubwa, a densely > populated suburb, children who spend most of the year as the only > Jew in their school spill out of cars alongside dozens of their > peers. They might spend the day acting out scenes from the Torah, > crocheting kippot or competing in color war. > > It’s an untraditional location, but almost everything else about > Camp Sarah is inspired by Jewish summer camps in the U.S. After > all, it was founded by an American. > > Debbie Isser, who moved to Nigeria in 2021 for her work with the > World Bank, started the camp with members of Abuja’s Jewish > community after local mothers told her they wanted their children to > have some kind of Jewish education. For Isser, whose own childhood > summers at Jewish camp in New Hampshire had been formative, the > solution felt obvious. > > “I just felt like it was in my genes,” she told the Forward. > > Now in its fourth year, Camp Sarah, a two-week-long day camp hosting > 80 campers and 20 staff, is trying to give a new generation of > Nigerian Jews something their small, dispersed community has > struggled to provide: Jewish teachings that will allow them to > sustain religious life there. > > The hope, of course, is that the children make Jewish friends and > learn Torah stories. But organizers also want Camp Sarah to begin > producing the religious leaders the community currently lacks — > perhaps, one day, even a homegrown rabbi or a shochet, ritual > slaughterer, so that kosher Nigerian Jews can finally enjoy meat > with their jollof rice.

Sing to me, muse, of two Moshes and their Odysseys!,
by Clara Shapiro, Forward, 2026-08-06.

 

> If you have read any one of the at least 60 English translations > of Homer’s Odyssey or have seen Christopher Nolan’s new Odyssey > movie, then you are probably aware that Odysseus leads a more active > life than the average person. As if living through the Trojan War > weren’t hard enough, he blinds the cyclops Polyphemus and gets > cursed by Poseidon with epically bad weather. His men are regularly > transformed into pigs, picked off by Laestrygonian giants, and > drowned in storms. The nymph Calypso detains him on her island for > seven years and forces him to be her lover, (although whether this > counts as a hardship depends on your perspective). The man of twists > and turns has seen a lot. But he probably never predicted his story > would be translated into Yiddish. Or Ladino. > > At first, the parallel lives of the two men who translated The > Odyssey into Yiddish and Ladino sound like the makings of a > sphinx’s riddle, or a cryptic prophecy from the Oracle at Delphi: > both men would be called “Moshe”; both would be alive at the > beginning of the Holocaust; only one would survive to the end. Their > names were Moshe Leyb Pitshenik (1895 – 1944) of the Odiseye > (אָדיסייע) and Moshe Ha-Elion (1925-2022) of La Odisea.

Israeli restaurants are hiding their identity. New York Magazine won’t say why,
by Rob Eshman, Forward, 2026-08-13.

 

> Somewhere toward the end of her long New York magazine feature on > Middle Eastern food in New York City, Madeline Leung Coleman points > out that Israeli restaurants are increasingly labeling themselves as > Middle Eastern or Levantine rather than Israeli. > > “There could be many reasons why,” she writes. “Perhaps there’s a > fear of being targeted. Or they’re second-guessing if they should > call their food ‘Israeli’ at all.” > > I’m going to offer a third choice: Perhaps it’s because of articles > like hers.

Dangerous denialism about the realities of Hamas points to an American moral collapse,
by Dan Perry, Forward, 2026-08-07.

 

> A terrible mutation afflicts American politics. What began as fury > over Israel’s conduct of the Gaza war has evolved, in significant > parts of the progressive left, into a pathological hostility toward > Israel that has become a driver of political identity and debate. > The genocide accusation is increasingly treated not as a contested > claim but as settled truth; opposition to Zionism as evidence of > virtue; and even Hamas and “armed resistance” can be romanticized or > excused. > > This week’s victory by Abdul El-Sayed in Michigan’s Democratic > primary for the Senate, alongside the popularity of voices such as > Hasan Piker, suggests this is no longer simply the rhetoric of > campus radicals. Israel is being cast as such a singular evil that > opposing it can seem almost a prerequisite for occupying the moral > high ground. > > Which is why what happened to Douglas Murray’s recent book is so > interesting. On Democracies and Death Cults confronts > precisely this mutation: the extraordinary difficulty much of the > Western left now seems to have in distinguishing between a deeply > flawed democracy and a murderous Islamist movement committed to its > destruction. Yet despite Murray’s prominence and the book’s > commercial success, much of the mainstream review culture simply > ignored it. In the political climate of August 2026, that silence > looks less like an oversight than part of the story. > > Douglas Murray has never lacked critics. That is the inevitable > consequence of writing about immigration, identity politics and the > West’s growing loss of confidence in itself. His earlier books, The > Strange Death of Europe and The War on the West, provoked fierce > disagreement, but they were treated as books that demanded > engagement — reviewed, debated and rebutted. > > On Democracies and Death Cults, published last year, received > something different. > > I believe the reason is plain. This was the first Murray book whose > principal purpose was not simply to criticize fashionable ideas in > the West but to defend Israel during the most contentious conflict > of our time.

It’s not just Harvard and Columbia. Small liberal arts colleges are quietly settling antisemitism complaints,
by Sage Lattman, Forward, 2026-08-14.

 

> As major universities across the US strike deals with the Trump > administration over antisemitism complaints, a handful of small > liberal arts colleges have been quietly settling cases of their > own.

> In the past week, Oregon’s Reed College and Pennsylvania’s > Haverford College have both settled complaints accusing them of > failing to protect Jewish students in the wake of the Hamas-led Oct. > 7 attacks on Israel and the subsequent Israel-Hamas war. Pomona and > Occidental Colleges, both in southern California, settled complaints > in late 2024 and 2025, respectively. > > At least nine other small liberal arts colleges — which unlike > universities mainly focus on undergraduate and interdisciplinary > education over research — are still locked in disputes. > > These include Sarah Lawrence and Union in New York; Swarthmore and > Lehigh in Pennsylvania; Middlebury in Vermont; Whitman in > Washington; Wellesley and Williams in Massachusetts; and Scripps in > California.

Some young Jews are pulling back from Jewish life over Israel discourse, study finds: the survey also found that three-quarters of young Jewish adults in the US regularly do something Jewish.,
by Grace Gilson, Jewish telegraphic agency, 2026-08-14.

 

> Nearly four in 10 Jewish young adults say events affecting Jews in > recent years have led them to pull back from Jewish spaces or become > more selective about where they participate, with disagreements over > how Israel and the Palestinians are discussed as a leading reason, > according to a new survey. > > The survey, which was conducted by Sense Worldwide and commissioned > by the Jim Joseph Foundation, found that 39% of respondents have > engaged less, engaged more selectively or disengaged entirely from > Jewish spaces due to “events affecting Jewish people in the last few > years.”

Rabbis Mamdani invited to City Hall tell him his Israel rhetoric is ‘causing harm’,
by Jacob Kornbluh, Forward, 2026-08-10.

 

> New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani heard a clear message Monday from > rabbis with widely different views on Israel: His public statements > denouncing Israel and its prime minister are hurting Jewish New > Yorkers and making it harder for some of them to work with him on > shared priorities. > > The message came during an hour-long, closed-door roundtable at City > Hall that included 10 rabbis from Reform, Conservative, > Reconstructionist and Modern Orthodox congregations invited by > Mamdani to share their perspectives on how to combat antisemitism. > > “There were rabbis from across the entire spectrum of our Jewish > community, and yet no one gave the message to the mayor, ‘Everything > is going great,’” Rabbi Rick Jacobs, president of the Union for > Reform Judaism, told the Forward in an interview after the meeting. > > Jacobs said there was a “uniform sense” in the room that Mamdani > needed to understand the impact of his frequent and [harsh > criticism][] of Israel, pledge to arrest Israeli Prime Minister > Benjamin Netanyahu and call for protests against the country’s > leader when he visits the city. > > “Everyone agreed that the current course can’t go on,” Jacobs said. > “The way he vilifies Israel, and so constantly, is really causing > harm.” > > Rabbi Rachel Timoner, senior rabbi of Congregation Beth Elohim in > Brooklyn, offered a similar account of the meeting.

What does the DSA actually want? Its national co-chair can’t say.,
by Louis Keene, Forward, 2026-08-10.

 

> It’s been a heady couple of months for the Democratic Socialists of > America. Candidates the organization rallied behind ousted > establishment Democrats in New York, Michigan, Colorado and > Wisconsin state primaries. Pundits who doubted the movement last > year are now eating crow. > > With the DSA having forced its way into the spotlight, national > co-chair Megan Romer went on The New Yorker Radio Hour > podcast to share what the movement is all about. But the > interview has elicited an online backlash — and some > ridicule — after Romer said she would have attended an Oct 8 > protest and that she would have sought to stop Russia’s advance in > Ukraine through diplomacy. > > Just as damning to some viewers was Romer’s reluctance to provide > specifics on a number of DSA policy positions when pressed for them > by New Yorker editor David Remnick. > > The backlash to the interview put Romer on the defensive. The day > after its publication the national co-chair called Remnick a “debate > bro” who had tried to make her look and feel stupid during the > conversation. Remnick, a Pulitzer Prize–winner and former Moscow > correspondent for The Washington Post, has edited > The New Yorker since 1998.

What Hamas understood that we didn’t,
by Matt field, That Jew, 2026-08-09.

 

> In January 2024, while Israeli soldiers were still pulling bodies > from kibbutz homes, Hamas leader Ismail Haniyeh addressed a > conference of Islamic scholars in Doha. “We should hold on to the > victory that took place on October 7 and build upon it,” he said. > “Time is on our side.” > > He was not being defiant. He was being accurate. > > By February 2025, senior Hamas officials were describing October 7 > publicly as a “historic success.” By September 2025, another Hamas > official told CNN the attack had created a “golden moment” for the > Palestinian cause. These were not the claims of an organization in > denial about what the war had cost Gaza. They were the assessments > of an organization that had run a specific calculation before the > attack and was watching that calculation prove correct. > > The calculation was not military. Hamas knew the IDF would respond. > They knew Gaza would be devastated. They knew their own leadership > would be hunted and killed. They planned the attack anyway because > they were not running a military calculation. They were running an > institutional one. > > A document Sinwar wrote by hand in August 2022, more than a year > before the attack, captures the calculation precisely. He predicted > Israel would be “surprised by the attack and enter into chaos” > before responding with “the means and weapons at its disposal.” He > added: “It is possible that it will even use a nuclear bomb.” He > proceeded with the plan. The military risk, up to and including > nuclear annihilation, was a price he had already decided to pay. The > bet he was making was not military. It was institutional. > > They had studied Western progressive institutions, their ideological > architecture, their frameworks, their reflexes, and they concluded > that those institutions would convert Jewish death into Israeli > guilt, that the human rights infrastructure would perform against > Israel on schedule, and that the aftermath would damage Israel more > than the attack damaged Hamas. > > They were right about all of it. Nearly three years later that is > not argument. It is record. > > The framework that activated within hours of October 7 did not > arrive by accident. It was installed.

250 years of American Jewish life is a miracle. Don’t take it for granted.,
by Flora Cassen, Forward, 2026-08-09.

 

> When I moved from Belgium to the United States for graduate school > in the early 2000s, international-student orientation warned me > about three areas in which I would experience culture shock: > doctors, dating, and food. They were right: I am still looking for > good chocolate. But what nobody mentioned was that culture shock can > also work in the other direction: you can encounter something so > different in a good way that it, too, takes time to understand. For > me, that was American Jewish life. > > The Judaism I had grown up with in Belgium was timid and a little > subdued; it felt to me as though it did not quite dare to put down > roots or imagine itself as fully Belgian. American Judaism > bewildered me at first by its sheer pluralism: so many > denominations, and within them so many people experimenting with > what it meant to be and do Jewish in this country and in this world. > > Even more surprising was its creativity — the music, the > intellectual life, the social activism, the constant invention of > new institutions, rituals and communities. It was also loud and > argumentative. American Jews tangled about Judaism, politics, > Zionism and one another. The old story about two Jews having three > opinions was not a joke here but a reality. > > I loved it. Not because I agreed with all of it — I certainly did > not — but because even the arguing seemed to me evidence that > American Jews did not feel they had to hide or be discreet, not even > about their disagreements. > > Of course, Jewish success in the United States did not mean that > America offered the same possibilities to everyone. Jewish > integration took place in a country whose deepest structures of > exclusion targeted Black Americans. That inequality is part of the > American Jewish story and complicates any account of its success.Nor > was the American Jewish experience free of prejudice: American Jews > encountered social ostracism, quotas in higher education, exclusion > from neighborhoods and country clubs, and violence. > > And yet, over 250 years, Jews in the United States became deeply > woven into the political, cultural and civic life of the country. > How the encounter between Jewish traditions brought from many parts > of the world and the particular freedoms, tensions and possibilities > of American life produced a distinctively American form of Judaism > is a question that has stayed with me ever since, and America’s > 250th anniversary seems like a good moment to return to it. > > I think part of the answer lies in the American idea of hyphenated > identities. In a country of immigrants from many parts of the world, > the hyphen suggested a social architecture, albeit imperfect, that > allowed for multiple communities to coexist within a larger whole. > By contrast the Europe in which I grew up remained more attached to > myths of national homogeneity that made Jewish belonging harder. > > But today, across the political spectrum, people are asking what > America as an idea and a national community stands for. > Historically, such moments have often made Jews a test case for the > limits of inclusion. To those who imagine the nation as a homogenous > family, Jews are strangers; to those who imagine it as a universal > community, Jews often seem too particularistic. > > Amid rising antisemitism, the aftermath of Oct. 7, turmoil on > university campuses and intense political polarization, it is not > surprising then that many American Jews are feeling anxious about > the future. The pessimists believe something fundamental is broken > and wonder whether it is time to keep a packed suitcase ready. The > optimists insist that America remains different, even exceptional, > and that American institutions and laws are strong. This too shall > pass, they say. > > As a historian, I am skeptical of both positions. The past is full > of moments that look inevitable in retrospect because, once we know > what happened, it becomes harder to imagine other outcomes. But in > the moment, multiple futures are always possible. History cannot > tell us which one will become ours, but it can broaden the range of > possibilities we are able to see.

We cannot memorialize our way to the Jewish future,
by Rabbi Steven Abraham, Future of Jewish, 2026-08-08.

 

> Dara Horn is entirely aware of what she has done. > > She has joked that her book titles make excellent beach reading > because nobody will sit near you. > > Five years ago, she gave us “People Love Dead Jews,” which was > awkward enough. This new title — “The Final Solution to the Jewish > Question” — is a provocation set in 40-point type on the cover of a > mainstream trade hardcover. > > The provocation is not merely a marketing stunt. It is a piece of > theology. And the fact that the book will arrive in the middle of > Elul (the final month of the Jewish civil year), days before we > stand together for Selichot, is a coincidence worth treating as > something more than coincidence. > > Start with the title. Horn has taken the bureaucratic euphemism the > Nazis used for the murder of European Jewry and repurposed it as a > lure. As she explained in an interview, the title is intended to > catch the eye while also announcing, without irony, that she intends > to propose an actual solution — not a 10-point public-policy > program, but a different story about who Jews are and what > antisemitism is. > > This is not new to us. This is Purim. > > It is the logic of a holiday in which we take the name of the man > who wanted us dead and place it in the mouths of children holding > noisemakers. Jewish survival has always involved seizing the > vocabulary of the enemy and refusing to let it mean what he meant by > it. > > What Horn proposes, at least from what she has said publicly about > the book, is a reframing. Antisemitism, she argues, is not most > usefully understood as bias, bigotry, prejudice, or even conspiracy > theory. Those categories flatter us into believing that antisemitism > sits neatly on a shelf beside other hatreds and can therefore be > addressed with the same tools: diversity seminars, museum visits, > carefully worded statements and commemorative events. > > Horn says antisemitism is a lie, and the lie never truly changes. > Her formulation is worth quoting: “Jews are destroying what you > value the most.” In other words, antisemites accuse Jews of > destroying what antisemites value the most.

Matti Friedman’s Out of the Sky,
by Matti Friedman, fathom, 2026-07.

 

> In front of a live audience in Tel Aviv, Fathom editor, Calev > Ben-Dor, talks to Matti Friedman about his new book, Out of the > Sky. They discuss Hannah Senesh and the other parachutists who > returned to Nazi controlled Europe, the concepts of heroism, > different “solutions” to the so-called Jewish Question, and > Friedman’s recent article about Gazology. [Linked-to above] is an > audio recording and a lightly edited transcript.

 

The book, Out of the sky, itself, is available to order from Friedman’s web-site.

And I heartily recommend the book. Especially if you aren’t familiar with Hannah Senesh but are familiar with Anne Frank:

> Mark Friedman: It’s such an interesting comparison between these > two great female figures of the Holocaust; literary figures, both of > them, and both readers. They even share a name, in a way: ‘Hannah’ > is what she calls herself once she becomes a Zionist and moves to > the Land of Israel to become a pioneer. She lives on a kibbutz and > tries to be the new Jew — she’s bad at it, frankly; she’s meant to > be washing socks and scrubbing pots, and that is not remotely what > she was cut out for. This is a very literary, upper-middle-class > girl who was clearly never going to be milking cows. Her Hebrew name > is Hannah — ‘Channa’ — and, in a way, that near-echo invites the > comparison with Anne Frank. > > There’s about a ten-year age gap, but otherwise they’re similar: > both trying to deal with a catastrophe closing in around them. And > it’s striking that outside Israel and Zionist circles, almost no one > knows who Hannah Szenes is. A lot of people I’ve met since writing > the book — even people from Jewish communities — don’t know her. > > In Israel she’s an incredibly famous name — as famous, I’d say, as > the Maccabees — but that’s not true abroad; there, everyone knows > Anne Frank and almost no one knows Hannah. Hannah, even though she > wrote beautifully — her diary really is beautiful; she was a > tremendous writer — and we do tend to make people sound better than > they were after they’ve died. If you read the diary itself, you can > see she was on her way to being a great writer, but she wasn’t there > yet, and I think that causes some misunderstanding: we want her to > be amazing, so we treat all her writing as a masterpiece. I’ll say > the same about ‘Happy Is the Match’ — it isn’t, in my opinion, a > very good poem. She was just starting out. Had she survived, I think > she would have become Leah Goldberg— that’s the direction she was > heading. She never got the chance. > > Anne, of course, is enormously famous. So why do we remember one and > not the other? Anne Frank’s afterlife is, in a way, uncomplicated, > and this isn’t a comment on Anne herself, who was simply a girl > murdered by the Nazis — but the figure she became after the > Holocaust is unthreatening. She dies quietly, I believe of > tuberculosis, in a camp, and she doesn’t survive the war to disturb > the peace of Muslims and Christians. Her diary is very much a > document about life; it doesn’t describe her death. There’s the > famous line — I’m not quoting it exactly — where she says that > despite everything, she believes people are good at heart. People > love that thought. But she wrote it before thugs came to her house > and murdered her. That would probably have changed her view. I > imagine it would have. > > Anne offers the world a kind of comfort people want: a shared > humanity, an optimistic message, almost a universal one. And > precisely because of that, her Jewishness gets softened. She’s not > written or read as particularly Jewish; the Jewish parts of the > diary get played down to some extent, because she’s meant to be an > everygirl, > > Calev Ben-Dor: We read it and we learn ‘don’t be mean to > people’, rather than ‘don’t round Jews up and put them on cattle > trucks and gas them to death.’ > > Mark Friedman: Hannah responds to the same history completely > differently. She’s older; she understands that not everyone is good > at heart, and that they are about to murder her mother. Her answer > is to create a place where Jews can be safe, and to use armed force > to protect themselves if necessary. I think that’s the right > message, but for some reason it’s much less popular outside Israel. > Hannah is a more challenging figure, which is why she’s remembered > by some but not by most, while Anne Frank’s fame has only grown — > become one of the most famous brands in the world, in a way I > actually find a bit perverse. She becomes a symbol for whoever feels > oppressed: a symbol of non-conformist sexuality, a feminist symbol, > and, in recent years, a symbol claimed by Palestinians in their > conflict with Jews — there are pictures of her image painted onto > cafés in that context. If she’s purely a symbol of victimhood, and > everything specific about her has been de-Jewified, then she can be > made to stand for almost anything. During Covid, in America, people > compared themselves to Anne Frank over Covid restrictions. > > So it’s pretty clear which side of that I’m on — and again, it’s not > a comment on Anne Frank herself, but on how her memory has been > used. I live in a country and in a tradition that responded to > catastrophe differently.

What happened to Jeremy,
by Hen Mazzig Hen Mazzig, 2026-07-16.

 

> In late 2023, a few weeks after October 7, my husband and I had > dinner with our friend Jeremy. He is British, mid-thirties, with a > decent job and the kind of progressive politics that used to mean > food banks and climate marches. He asked about my family in Israel > by name. He wanted to know if my mother was sleeping. He paid for > dinner and hugged us both on the street, and on the walk home my > husband said what I was thinking, that we were lucky to have friends > like him. > > Over the following year I watched his feed change. First it was the > accounts he followed, then the language he used in his own captions. > The escalation had a rhythm to it, each week slightly further than > the last, the way water finds a slope. The last real conversation we > had, he said this to me: “Israel’s existence is the reason > antisemitism exists. Even Jews say it.” > > He is no longer our friend. That was our choice as much as his. What > I want to examine is how a kind man arrived at a sentence like that > in under two years. > > The simplest explanation deserves to go first. People watched a > brutal war on their phones and drew their own conclusions. Grief and > anger at images from Gaza are human responses, and holding them > requires no puppeteer. Criticism of the Israeli government is > legitimate; I publish it myself, in detail, under my own name. If > Jeremy had told me the war was unbearable to watch, that he believed > Israel’s government had lost its moral bearings, we would still be > having dinner. Plenty of people I love believe exactly that. > > But that is a conclusion. What Jeremy said to me was a product. > “Israel’s existence causes antisemitism” reverses cause and effect > with a confidence no one reasons their way into alone, and the tag > at the end, “even Jews say it,” is the laundering step, the borrowed > permission slip. Products have supply chains, and this one’s is > documented in sanctions designations and forensic reports that > almost nobody reads.

One sentence which defines Jewish identity,
by Dara Horn, AJC Global Forum 2026, Washington DC, USA, 2026-05-31 – 2026-06-02.

 

> I’m often asked when I go speak to non-Jewish audiences: like are > Jews a religion; are Jews a race; are Jews a nationality? > > There’s an answer to this and it’s simple. > > It’s not a complicated answer. It’s just old. > > Jews predate every single one of those categories. > > Jews are a type of group that was common in the Ancient Near East; > very uncommon today: a joinable tribal group with a shared history, > homeland, and culture. > > And that was a sentence in English and in Hebrew it’s one word > that’s two letter long: am. > > Jews are Am Yisrael.

 

— Dara Horn.

What the shelf requires: Gazology, anti-Zionism, and the manufacture of conviction,
by Kile B Jones, Inverted world, 2026-07-30.

 

Kile Jones was an anti-Zionist, and became one through the standard mechanism:

> through rooms, not arguments. My graduate years were spent in > religious studies, and the seminar rooms I sat in had a vocabulary > waiting for me — settler-colonial, apartheid, indigenous erasure — > which I absorbed and deployed believing it was doing the work of > analysis.

The above-linked short essay — a touch over 2,800 words — sets out the deeply theological nature of antiZionism and what that theology entails as well as outlining both how Jones was converted to the faith and how he was, to use his term, deconverted.

A related, and also short, essay by the same author is ‘Sorry, Mr Chomsky, I no longer agree: my journey out of anti-Zionism’.

The theory of everything: how Palestinianism colonised everything — and hurts Palestinians,
by Andrew Spokoiny, Notes from a liminal time, 2026-08-02.

 

> One of the keys to understanding Western attitudes toward the > Israeli–Palestinian conflict is to distinguish between Palestinians > and Palestinianism. > > Palestinians are a real people with legitimate rights and > aspirations, both individual and collective. There is debate over > when Palestinian peoplehood emerged—until well into the twentieth > century, “Palestinian” functioned primarily as a geographic rather > than a national designation—but that historical debate does nothing > to diminish the legitimacy or urgency of Palestinian claims today. > Like every other people, Palestinians deserve dignity, security, > political representation, and ultimately a future they can shape for > themselves. > > The Israeli–Palestinian conflict, at its core, is therefore a > geopolitical dispute: two national movements laying claim to the > same land, burdened by history, trauma, and hard-to-reconcile > narratives. > > Palestinianism, however, is something else entirely. It is not a > movement for Palestinian rights. It is a Western ideological > framework that transforms Palestine from a particular political > conflict into the central moral lens through which every other issue > is interpreted. > > The extent to which Palestinianism has colonized public life is > difficult to exaggerate.

 

NB, Israeli writer, Mark Friedman, has also coined a neologism; Gazaology. Specific referents aside, the two neologism mean largely the same thing.