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Bosnian Jews mourn Moris Albahari, one of Sarajevo’s last Ladino speakers
(JTA) — Moris Albahari, a Holocaust survivor, former partisan fighter and one of the last Ladino speakers in Bosnia and Herzegovina’s dwindling Jewish community, passed away at the age of 93 last month.
It is believed that he was one of four native Ladino speakers remaining in a country where the Judeo-Spanish language once flourished and was spoken by luminaries like Flory Jagoda, the grande dame of Ladino song, and Laura Bohoretta, the founder of a uniquely Sephardic feminist movement in Bosnia.
Bosnia’s small Jewish community — with barely 900 members throughout the country, 500 of whom live in Sarajevo — are mourning the loss of a living link to communal memory as well as a dear friend.
“From you, uncle Moco, I learned a lot about Judaism, about life, about nature and especially about people. About both the good and the evil,” Igor Kožemjakin, the cantor of the Sarajevo Jewish community, wrote in a memorial post on Facebook, referring to Moris as “Čika,” or uncle, a term of endearment in Bosnian.
“It is a terrible loss, especially for Sarajevo. Our community is very small, especially after the Holocaust,” Eliezer Papo, a Sarajevo-born Jew and scholar of Ladino language and literature at Ben-Gurion University of the Negev, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. “We’re not speaking just in terms of prominent members of the community, we’re speaking in terms of family members. Everyone is like a family member.”
When Albahari was growing up in the 1930s, the Jewish community of his native Sarajevo numbered over 12,000. Jews made up more than a fifth of the city and it was one of the most important centers of Jewish life in the western Balkans.
In his youth, the city was part of what was then the Kingdom of Yugoslavia. Formed out of the borderlands between the Ottoman and Austro-Hungarian empires, it was a multiethnic state composed of Croats, Serbs, Bosniaks, Slovenians, Macedonians, Hungarians, Albanians and more. Among them were many Jewish communities both Ashkenazi and Sephardic.
The unique mix of of Muslim, Jewish, Catholic and Orthodox Christian communities, with their mosques, synagogues and churches defining Sarajevo’s skyline, earned the city the nickname “Little Jerusalem.”
Speaking in a 2015 documentary made by American researchers, “Saved by Language,” Albahari explained that his family traced their roots back to Cordoba before the Spanish Inquisition, and through Venice, before settling in what would become Bosnia when it was part of the Ottoman Empire.
“We didn’t want to ‘just’ write an article about Moris or Sarajevo; we wanted [the audience] to see what we saw and hear what we heard,” Brian Kirschen, professor of Ladino at Binghamton University, who worked on the documentary with author Susanna Zaraysky, told JTA. “This resulted in a grassroots initiative to create the documentary.”
In the film, Albahari takes the researchers and their viewers on a tour through what was Jewish Sarajevo, giving glimpses of the thriving Ladino speaking community in which he was raised and explaining how ithe language would save him many times, when the Nazis and their Croat allies, the Ustaša, came to shatter it.
“In sharing your story of survival during the Holocaust, you opened doors that remained closed for decades,” Kirschen said in a memorial post on Facebook. “Some of your stories were even new to members of your family, but each survivor has their own timeline. While you experienced great pain during your life, from your story, we also learn about moments of kindness and heroism. Through your story, you also taught us about the power of language.”
Albahari wasn’t yet a teenager when, in 1941, Nazi Germany and Mussolini’s Italy invaded Yugoslavia. The Nazis occupied the eastern portion of the country, including what is now Serbia, while they raised up a Croat fascist party, known as the Ustaša, to administer the newly formed “Independent State of Croatia” — often known by its Serbo-Croatian initials, NDH — in the western regions that included the modern-day Bosnia and Herzegovina.
The Ustaša collaborated in the Nazis’ genocidal plans for Europe’s Jewish and Roma comunities, and they had genocidal designs of their own for the Orthodox Serb communities living in the NDH.
To that end they established the Jasenovac concentration camp, which would become known as the Auschwitz of the Balkans. By the war’s end it had become the third largest concentration camp in Europe, and behind its walls the overwhelming majority of Sarajevo’s Jews — at least 10,000 — were massacred. Including Serbs, Jews, Roma and political dissidents of Croat or Muslim Bosniak background, as many as 100,000 people were killed in Jasenovac.
Albahari was 11 years old when the Ustaša came to deport him and his large family to Jasenovac. A former teacher working as an Ustaša guard in the town of Drvar, where the train stopped, warned Albahari’s father, David, about their destination, and he was able to help his son escape from the train.
The teacher helped guide the young Moris to an Italian soldier named Lino Marchione who was secretly helping Jews.
This was the first case when Albahari’s Ladino came in handy. Ladino is largely based on medieval Spanish, with a mixture of Hebrew, Aramaic, Turkish and other languages mixed in. For speakers of Serbo-Croatian, a Slavic language, it’s entirely incomprehensible. But for a speaker of another Romance language such as Italian, it’s not such a stretch to understand, and Moris was able to converse with his Italian savior.
With his family gone, he was taken in by a Serb family, and changed his name to Milan Adamovic to hide his Jewish identity. Still, by 1942, it became clear that neither as Adamovic nor Albahari would he be safe in the town. So he fled to the mountains.
“If there was [a battle] I took clothes from a dead soldier to wear, I lived like a wolf in the mountains, you know. Visiting villages [asking for something] to give me for eating, it was a terrible time,” Albahari recalled in “Saved By Language.”
He would only feel safe in villages under the control of partisan forces. Yugoslavia was the only country in Europe to be liberated from Nazi rule by its own grassroots resistance.
During his time in the mountains, Albahari joined up with a partisan unit aligned with the movement of Josip Broz Tito, who would lead Communist Yugoslavia after the war. By the war’s end, Tito’s partisans numbered over 80,000 and included more than 6,000 Jews, many in prominent positions, such as Moša Pijade, who would go on to serve as vice president of the Yugoslav parliament after the war.
Moris was out on patrol as a partisan when he came upon a group of American and British paratroopers. They raised their weapons at him, thinking he was an enemy. Moris tried to communicate, but he spoke no English.
When he asked the soldiers if they spoke German or Italian, they shook their heads. When he asked about Spanish, one perked up: a Hispanic-American soldier by the name of David Garijo.
In Ladino, Alabahari was able to explain that he was not an enemy but could lead them to a nearby partisan camp where they would be safe.
“Ladino saved my life in the war,” Albahari recalled in the documentary.
At the partisan camp, Morris received even bigger news: The family that he had assumed had all perished after he left the train were in fact alive. The former school teacher and Ustaša guard who had warned his father had met them at the next train junction to help them escape. Furthermore, around half of the Jews in the train car were able to escape using the same hole Moris used during his initial escape.
Ultimately the family all survived the war, unlike so many other Jews of Sarajevo.
“Where is Samuel, where is Dudo, where is Gedala? They never came back,” Albahari lamented, listing missing neighbors while walking through Sarajevo’s old Jewish neighborhood in the documentary. “Maybe we are happy because we are alive after the Second World War, but also unlikely because every day we must cry for these dead people.”
When Moris returned to Sarajevo, it was an entirely different place from the bustling Jewish community he had once known.
Gone was the sound of Ladino in the streets and alleyways of Bascarsija, the market district where so many of Sarajevo’s Jews had once lived. Gone were the synagogues — only one of the many synagogues that had existed before WWII still functions. Gone was the robust Jewish life that was once a central part of Sarajevo.
Moris was still only 14 by the war’s end, so he returned to school and ultimately graduated at the top of his class. He became a pilot and later director of the Sarajevo Airport.
In this new world, Ladino was spoken, if at all, only in the home.
“Always, when I hear Spanish, I hear my father and mother, and all the synagogues, prayers in Ladino and rabbis who spoke Ladino. But that is in the past,” Albahari says in “Saved by Language.”
Eliezer Papo, who is a generation younger than Albahari, recalled that in his youth Ladino had long been reduced to a language of secrets.
“Mostly, Ladino was used when the elders didn’t want youngsters to understand,” Papo said.
Only later, in the 1980s, did community members realize what was being lost and begin to gather to maintain their language, recount what Jewish Sarajevo had been like and share their wartime stories of survival.
“He never took his story to the places of revenge, but he took it and his life experience to a place of ‘Never again,’ not just ‘Never again for Jews’, but never again for anybody,” said Papo.
Like many Sarajevans, World War II would not be the last major conflict Albahari would see. Less than 40 years later, war would once again come to Sarajevo with the break-up of Yugoslavia.
From 1992-1995 the city remained under constant siege by Bosnian Serb forces looking to break away from what would become Bosnia and Herzegovina. Moris joined with other Jews of Sarajevo in working to provide aid to their fellow Sarajevans during the harsh period.
Sarajevo’s synagogue was turned into a shelter and a soup kitchen. The community ran a network of underground pharmacies and a message service allowing Sarajevans to get word to family and friends outside of the city during what became the longest siege of a capital city in the history of modern warfare.
“Moris was an inspirational persona to many members of Jewish community and La Benevolencija,” Vlado Anderle, the current president of that local Jewish humanitarian organization told JTA. “He was a man with such inviting spirit and energy.”
When the dust settled on the breakup of Yugoslavia, and the new Bosnian state rose from its ashes, Moris found himself once again in a new role.
During the communist era in Yugoslavia, religious activity was discouraged. Sarajevo’s Jews emphasized the ethnic character of Jewish culture rather than the religious one. In the new Bosnia and Herzegovina, that was no longer true. So the community worked to reconnect with their religious identity as well.
“Everybody looked up to the people who had Jewish upbringing before the Second World War,” Papo recalled. “This doesn’t mean that they were rabbis. Just that they knew it better than anyone else.”
Moris, whose formal Jewish education ended in his preteen years, was appointed president of the community’s religious committee.
As such it often fell on him to represent Judaism to the Bosnian society at large, often in a very creative way, according to Papo, who in addition to being a scholar of Ladino is ordained as a rabbi and serves the Sarajevo community as a rabbi-at-large from Israel.
In one case, while being interviewed on a major Bosnian television station, Moris was asked why Jews cover their head with a kippah or other hat during prayer. Moris’ response, or rather creative interpretation, as Papo called it, was made up on the spot.
Moris’ interpretation began with the ancient temple in Jerusalem where Jews once had to fully immerse in a ritual bath before entering.
“Since the Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed it was reduced to washing the uncovered parts of the body only, before entering a synagogue, similarly to Muslims: the feet, the head, the hands…” Papo recalled him saying. But in Europe, as Moris’ answer went, they began to cover more and more of their body. “In Europe they started wearing shoes, so the feet were not uncovered anymore, and then they started wearing a hat, not to have to wash their head… you know it’s Europe, one could catch a cold if going out with wet hair…”
“A few months later, I came to Sarajevo, and found that everyone has heard this explanation and is talking about it, not just people in the community, but in the street,” Papo said. “And you know, I let it pass, I couldn’t correct them, it was just so beautiful. That was his genius.”
“Identity is all about telling stories. And Moris was one of the great storytellers of the community,” Papo added. And through his stories he expressed an identity which was “made of the same contradictions that Sephardic Judaism is made of, that Sarajevo is made of, that Bosnia and Herzegovina is made and that Yugoslavia was and is made of and that the Balkans are made of.”
Albahari is survived by his wife and a son.
—
The post Bosnian Jews mourn Moris Albahari, one of Sarajevo’s last Ladino speakers appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Why J Street’s New Policy Initiative Is Seriously Misguided
Israel’s Iron Dome anti-missile system intercepts rockets, as seen from Ashkelon, Israel, Oct. 1, 2024. Photo: REUTERS/Amir Cohen
We live in a time when synagogues and Jewish-sponsored events are under violent attack from London to Bondi Beach, to Temple Israel in Michigan.
At such a moment, efforts by J Street to see US military aid to Israel stopped are not just misguided; they are profoundly irresponsible.
On April 13, J Street posted a statement on its website titled, “Reassessing the US-Israel Security Relationship.”
J Street said, “The United States should phase out direct financial support for arms sales to Israel and treat Israel as it does other wealthy US allies.”
J Street did say (at the end of the statement) that, “The United States should continue to sell short-range air and ballistic missile defense (BMD) capabilities to Israel.”
But is that part just a way for them to play both sides if they need to? Otherwise, why make this charge (at the beginning of the statement): “Section 502B of the Foreign Assistance Act prohibits security assistance to any country whose government engages in a consistent pattern of gross violations of internationally recognized human rights.”
Also alarming is how J Street deliberately misrepresents the positions of people who want to end direct military aid to Israel: “A responsible and relatively rapid phase-out of all financial assistance, including for ballistic missile defense, is now supported by figures from across the political spectrum, such as Prime Minister Netanyahu, Senator Lindsey Graham …”
However, neither Netanyahu or Graham have made statements that fit J Street’s flawed approach and dishonest narrative.
The truth is that when interviewed by The Economist, Netanyahu stated, “I want to taper off the military within the next 10 years.” How can J Street say that “the next 10 years” is the same as “relatively rapid”?
And on January 9 on X , Graham tweeted the following: “The aid we have provided to Israel has been a great investment keeping the IDF strong, sharing technology, and making their military more capable – to the benefit of the United States.” Graham went further saying, “we need not wait ten years,” but nowhere did Graham say he was for ending all military assistance while Israel is at war.
You’ll often hear from J Street, and other critics of Israel, that American aid is a “blank check.” It isn’t. US military assistance to Israel is governed by agreements and legal frameworks that require much of that funding to be spent on American-made defense systems.
In practice, that means a significant share of the aid flows back into the US economy — supporting domestic manufacturing, defense jobs, and technological development. You can debate the policy. But calling it a blank check is simply inaccurate — and yet the phrase persists because it fits a far too often preferred anti-Israel narrative. And it’s very hard to believe that J Street does not understand this reality, even as it advances that framing.
There is a huge difference in the strategic relationship that America has with Israel than any of its other allies. Israel offers America military support, intelligence, and operational experience that is unparalleled. Yet J Street’s advocacy to curtail or condition aid ignores the depth and mutual benefit of that partnership, reducing a complex alliance to a one-sided transaction.
The Iron Dome and David’s Sling — key components of Israel’s multi-layered missile defense system — are battle-proven in real-world conditions. The United States has directly benefited from Israeli innovation in missile defense, counterterrorism, and battlefield medicine. No US ally in any corner of the world has contributed to America’s defense in such an immediate and practical way. And that should mean we debate aid to Israel differently than aid to allies who don’t give us those tangible benefits.
Efforts by J Street to target funding for these systems are not abstract policy debates; they would weaken tools that save civilian lives and inform US defense capabilities.
President Truman recognized the State of Israel on May 14, 1948, just minutes after Israel declared independence. Of course, this had something to do with the Holocaust. What’s more, the very fact that Israel is encircled by Iranian terrorist proxies that seek to destroy it, that so many nations refuse to even recognize its right to exist, and that Iran is struggling to preserve its nuclear program are all reasons that dictate that there is something inherently different about its situation compared to its neighbors. And that should be taken into account when debating and deciding on US policy.
This is not about silencing debate. It is about grounding that debate in facts, history, and the real-world consequences of policy choices. At a time of rising threats, weakening a proven alliance and undermining defensive systems like Iron Dome does not advance peace or security — it puts both at risk.
Positions like these help explain J Street’s limited support within the American Jewish community — and why its views must be scrutinized and challenged.
Moshe Phillips is national chairman of Americans For A Safe Israel, AFSI, (www.AFSI.org), a leading pro-Israel advocacy and education organization.
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A View From Campus: Universities Are Failing to Protect Debate While Claiming to Defend It
The administration building at the University of Manitoba. Photo: Wiki Commons.
Universities are meant to be spaces where ideas are debated and challenged, but they are also institutions that set the rules for how students participate.
That authority comes with responsibility — but in recent years, administrators have applied their standards unevenly, particularly when protests around Israel and the Palestinians turn disruptive.
Codes of conduct exist because universities believe behavior within their communities should be governed by certain standards. Universities rely on this principle across campus life, yet when protests cross into disruption or intimidation, they often fail to enforce it.
Faced with these realities, masked protesters have repeatedly violated codes of conduct without consequence — for instance, occupying and vandalizing Columbia’s Hamilton Hall in 2024, blocking Jewish students at Yale encampments, and chanting antisemitic slogans at Berkeley rallies. Meanwhile, in the United Kingdom, screenings documenting the October 7 attacks have required heavy police protection simply to proceed, reflecting an environment in which disruption is anticipated rather than prevented.
These incidents share a common thread: universities reacting to disorder instead of enforcing the baseline conditions that would allow events to occur without intimidation in the first place.
Protest itself is not the problem. The problem arises when demonstrations cross into disruption or intimidation, and institutions fail to enforce the basic rules that protect students and ensure equal access.
One clear example of this inconsistency is how universities handle anonymity during protests. On many campuses, protestors routinely wear masks or face coverings — even when directly engaging with others or disrupting organized events. In theory, anonymity can protect individuals from retaliation. In practice, it removes accountability.
Instead of taking responsibility and addressing the protesters’ behavior adequately, universities have often shifted the burden onto the students.
Jewish and pro-Israel groups are frequently required to coordinate security, accept police presence, or modify events simply to proceed. In some cases, programming continues under heavy supervision; in others, it is quietly scaled back, relocated, or cancelled entirely.
Events that should be educational experiences become exercises in risk management, with students navigating logistical hurdles and hostile crowds rather than engaging in meaningful dialogue.
I saw this firsthand at an event featuring former Israeli soldiers last year. Although the event was initially intended to be on campus, the threat of violence instigated by anti-Zionist protestors “convinced” the only University of Manitoba pro-Israel student group to move it away from the school.
This still didn’t stop around 50 protesters, many masked, from showing up at the new venue to harass and almost assault attendees. Thankfully, there was enough of a police presence to keep everyone safe.
Instead of demanding that certain events have armed guards, administrators should reflect on why some of their students need them in the first place just to voice their opinions. They should ask themselves what they have signaled, intentionally or not, about which behaviors will be tolerated and which will not.
Their inconsistent enforcement has clearly increased the likelihood of harm and discourages students from participating at all.
Universities need to shift their approach to responsibility, and concrete action is required.
Universities should publish clear protest guidelines that address anonymity, define disruption, and outline consequences that are consistently enforced, and then enforce them.
Security requirements should be transparent and scaled to the actual risk level of an event. When an event requires heightened security, violations of conduct aimed at disrupting or preventing it should carry proportionately stronger consequences. Disruptions and disciplinary outcomes should also be publicly reported to ensure accountability.
If universities want to be taken seriously as places of open inquiry, they need to do more than defend debate. They must protect the conditions that make debate possible. Right now, those conditions are eroding not because campuses lack authority, but because they have chosen not to use it when it matters most.
Police can only do so much; universities themselves have a responsibility to ensure that campus culture allows everyone to participate without fear of intimidation or interference.
Adam Katz is a 2025-2026 CAMERA on Campus fellow and a political science and history student at the University of Manitoba.
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PA Court Rules: Terrorists Must Get Pay-for-Slay Salaries — No Exceptions
A Palestinian Hamas terrorist shakes hands with a child as they stand guard as people gather on the day of the handover of Israeli hostages, as part of a ceasefire and a hostages-prisoners swap deal between Hamas and Israel, in Rafah in the southern Gaza Strip, Feb. 22, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Ramadan Abed
The Palestinian Authority (PA)’s Pay-for-Slay policy is now widely and publicly acknowledged.
PA officials have refused to say whether they will appeal a Palestinian court ruling earlier this week that ordered Pay-for-Slay to be resumed to a jailed terrorist who filed a lawsuit after it was suspended.
The ruling sets a legal precedent for the immediate resumption of salaries of 1,600 jailed terrorists who had them suspended last year even while salaries continued for thousands of other jailed terrorists, including through shifting the manner of payment, hidden means, or otherwise.
According to an article in the UK Arab news website Al-Araby Al-Jadeed, the Court found the PA’s Pay-for-Slay law is still in effect:
The Independent Commission for Human Rights (‘Public Complaints Commission’) [parentheses in source] in Palestine relied on the decision of the Ramallah Administrative Court, which was issued yesterday, Monday, [May 4, 2026,] in order to cancel the cessation of the salary payment of prisoner minor Ahmed Firas [PMW was unable to determine the details of his crimes -Ed.], …and with the aim of ending the salary crisis of approximately 1,600 prisoners [i.e., terrorists] whose salaries were stopped.
These salary payments were halted three months after Palestinian [PA] President Mahmoud Abbas issued a presidential decree, according to which the allowances of the Palestinian prisoners being paid by the PA were transferred to the Palestinian National Economic Empowerment Institution [PNEEI; refers to Abbas’ revision of “Pay-for-Slay,” see note below -Ed.]…
Yesterday, the Ramallah Administrative Court issued a decision to cancel the ‘implied decision’ of the [PA] minister of finance, according to which the salary of prisoner Ahmed Firas Hassan was stopped in mid-2025.
The Independent Commission [for Human Rights] filed a lawsuit to cancel this decision in August 2025. The Commission emphasizes that this is a precedent that can be relied upon to renew the salaries of more than 1,600 prisoners.
…
[ICHR] Legal Advisor Attorney Ahmed Nasra told [UK Arab news website] Al-Araby Al-Jadeed that the legal argument was based on how the decision to stop the salaries is illegal. According to him, the Basic Law obliges the State of Palestine to pay salaries to this sector, based on Article 22 of the amended Basic Law, which states: ‘The care for the families of the Martyrs and the prisoners, and the care for the wounded, injured, and disabled, is a duty whose provisions are regulated by law, and the [Palestinian] National Authority ensures for them educational services and health and social insurance.’ Additionally, the argument was also based on the Prisoners and Released [Prisoners] Law. The decision to stop the salaries was implemented without an official document indicating the decision, and therefore it was considered an ‘implied decision’ of the minister of finance, meaning an unwritten decision – a position that was adopted by the court that ruled accordingly. [emphasis added]
[Al-Araby Al-Jadeed, UK Arab news website, May 5, 2026]
The PA now refuses to say whether it will appeal the ruling, which is the only way the implementation of the ruling could be stopped, or even delayed:
“The newspaper Al-Araby Al-Jadeed tried to get a response from the Ministry of Finance but received no answer, and also approached the [PLO] Commission of Prisoners and Released [Prisoners’ Affairs] and the [PA-funded] Prisoners’ Club, but the heads of these bodies preferred not to respond.”
[Al-Araby Al-Jadeed, UK Arab news website, May 5, 2026]
It’s not apparent why this specific group of terrorists had seen their salaries suspended in the first place when most others didn’t. As Palestinian Media Watch has previously documented, Pay-for-Slay continues unabated for thousands of other jailed terrorists.
But what the PA court has done is exposed the con game that the PA has been doing to hide Pay-for-Slay from the eyes of Western countries since last year.
ICHR Attorney Ahmed Nasra told Hebron’s Radio Alam the PA lawyers didn’t even try to argue that the prisoner wasn’t entitled to a salary, but simply claimed some technical rationale for the suspension.
The Court, meanwhile, accepted the counter argument that the terrorist had been getting a salary and was simply entitled to continue getting it, under law:
Ahmed Nasra and Al-Alam host Samer Al-Ruwaished
Host: “Was there an opposing party … a representative or lawyer from the [PA] Ministry [of Finance] against which you filed the petition? Were certain arguments presented to the court as to why they stopped this person’s salary?”
Ahmed Nasra: “Of course, the administrative prosecution represents the [PA] governmental entities. We — I as the lawyer — represent the appellant, the one who filed the petition. And the administrative prosecution is the one representing the governmental ministries and the government. The defense of the administrative prosecution was mainly procedural and formal, meaning they did not argue whether the prisoner is entitled or not entitled to a salary; they did not enter into that matter. Rather, they argued that there was a defect in the lawsuit, that there was a defect in the procedures, formal matters of this kind…
This person already meets the conditions for receiving a salary, let’s say… for salary eligibility … He was, as you know, one of those 1,600 prisoners who were already receiving salaries initially.”
Host:“Right, they are not asking for a [new] salary, they have already been [on the list of recipients].”
Ahmed Nasra: “Yes, exactly. Therefore, you are talking about 1,600 cases of people who already meet the conditions. In other words, the problem was not in that. Therefore, the administrative prosecution … did their job and their role in the case. They had no reservation and did not appeal on the matter of meeting the eligibility conditions. And this makes sense.”
Host: “And this perhaps also helped in reaching this decision, which restores the situation to its previous state, since [the salaries] were legal in the first place.” [emphasis added]
[Al-Alam radio station (Hebron), Facebook page, May 4, 2026]
Enough is enough. The PA incentivizing terror through Pay-for-Slay must be stopped completely in every method that it is delivered — whether it be through salaries, stipends, pensions, or hiring policies. The PA that passed the law mandating Pay-for-Slay must provide a legal remedy to stop it once and for all — now.
The author is a contributor to Palestinian Media Watch, where a version of this article first appeared.