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We’re Jews in Zohran Mamdani’s neighborhood. You don’t want NYC to be like this.

(JTA) — The excitement in the air is palpable as our neighborhood turns out for Zohran Mamdani. In many ways, we know him well: he’s been our assemblyman for the last four years. In any other world, we would be excited by the possibility of a man like Zohran — an eloquent speaker, attuned to the affordability crisis, relatable despite his family wealth, a first-name figure in the community — rising up to challenge the establishment.

But that is not our portion. As Jews of District 36, Zohran’s Assembly district, we live in a world where his tenure and campaign have fragmented our community, fractured our trust in each other, and upended our sense of belonging and safety. We are left-wing Jews, right-wing Jews, and out-of-the-box Jews who want nothing more than to focus on the kinds of policy questions that affect our material conditions as New Yorkers.

But our experience in our neighborhood has torn us away from everyday concerns like making the rent and paying for groceries. That’s because the vision that Zohran said drew him to the Democratic Socialists of America five years ago — a stance on Palestine that calls for the isolation of Zionists, rejects “normalization” or relationships between anti-Zionists and supporters of Israel, and sanctions armed violence — has shaped what it’s like to live here since Oct. 7, 2023.

We go to different synagogues, work in different fields, and have different Jewish backgrounds. But when we came together as friends and neighbors in a local WhatsApp group for Astoria Jews in the aftermath of Oct. 7, we learned we had a common experience — one that we unfortunately shared with others in our neighborhood’s diverse Jewish community. Here, with the collective input of local Jews — religious and irreligious, queer and traditional, Mizrahi, Sephardi and Ashkenazi — we explain why our objections to a Mayor Mamdani are rooted not in abstract fear or deep-seated bias, but the product of daily life in a community shaped by Zohran’s public political choices.

On Oct. 8, 2023, just hours after the Hamas attack in Israel, Mamdani opted for a political statement of blame, rather than words of comfort and care so desperately needed by his own constituents. Since then, we’ve seen graffiti reading “Long Live Hamas,” “Sinwar Lives,” “Kill Yourself Zionist,” and Hamas red triangles spray-painted on residential buildings and businesses. Flyers attacking “Zionist capital” were distributed during a local rezoning debate, and people waving Hamas flags have rallied in our streets.

At a holiday block party, a mother was called a “genocidal killer” in front of her preschool-aged children; another was called a “bitch” by a man miming throat-slitting while she scraped graffiti from a lamp post. At a neighborhood bar’s karaoke night, a man sang “Deutschland über alles” while giving a Nazi salute. Posters and stickers with keffiyehs and machine guns have regularly appeared near playgrounds and public spaces.

https://www.instagram.com/p/DLFoxarM7hk/?img_index=4&igsh=ZXpramplczlpeDNm

Our teens have skipped school on cultural appreciation days to avoid being ostracized, and our hearts have shattered as our children reassure us of their safety with phrases like “don’t worry, no one knows I’m Jewish.” Signs that welcome the stranger, the immigrant — a longstanding Jewish value immortalized in verse by the Jewish-American poet Emma Lazarus — now live alongside swastikas and hate-speech on lampposts and shop windows across the district.

What we haven’t seen is any meaningful response to just how normal this has become. When a local business hung a massive, blinking “Fuck Israel” sign alongside a portrait of Hitler, we spoke up at our community board meeting in front of a silent Mamdani representative, to no response. We have filed complaints, we’ve removed stickers, we’ve spray-painted over violent imagery — and we’ve been at it alone. This is not the New York we want to live in, and this is not the New York of equality, safety and inclusivity that Zohran is promising.

In a city as diverse as New York, where nearly 40% of residents are immigrants and many more are part of transnational or multicultural communities, Jewish New Yorkers are not unique in carrying layered identities. The 80% of American Jews that consider Israel to be an “essential or important component” of their identity, are mirrored by Indian, Korean and Dominican Americans who feel the same connection to their homeland. What is unique, and unacceptable, is being sent the message that this connection is somehow at odds with our identity as New Yorkers.

This election is not a referendum on Israel or the place of Jews in New York City. It is, more pointedly, a reflection of a referendum that has already taken place; one that shaped the culture in which Zohran was raised as a cosmopolitan scion of the academic and cultural elite, with access to some of the best resources this city has to offer.

These resources — private grammar schools, specialized high schools, wealthy neighborhoods, the glitter- and literati — hold hints of old-boys-club antisemitism filtered through the lens of new-age anti-Zionism. Left unquestioned, they lay the foundation for an unrecognizable New York. When 54% of all hate crimes last year targeted Jews, we would argue we are already halfway there.

When we heard Zohran describe the fear of his Muslim family members in the aftermath of 9/11, we wondered why he can’t see the fear of most Jewish New Yorkers today.

We took notice when he said, as he was reported as saying in Brooklyn, that he would be here for us “when the mezuzah falls.” We want to be clear: a mezuzah doesn’t fall. A mezuzah is taken down discreetly while the streets echo with calls to globalize the intifada. It is kissed one last time, while the memory of being called a genocide lover in front of your children infuses the parchment. It is wrapped and placed in a box alongside other whispering mementos from grandparents who survived Iraq, Morocco, Poland, France, Uzbekistan, as we wonder if its hum has gotten loud enough for us to listen and know that the time to leave has come once more.

Our pain and fears are real and valid; the frustrations on all sides of the Jewish spectrum come from a shared concern for the wellbeing of our city and all of humanity. In our synagogues, alongside the prayer for Israel, we say the prayer for our country and wish wisdom upon its leaders, just as Jews have wished upon the leaders of every Diaspora nation where we have lived.

Our history has taken us, the Jewish people, through many lands, from our origins as a people called Israel in the Levant through thousands of years of exile, transfer and return. Today, just over a million of us — still that same people — are proud to call New York City home, and we want to keep calling this city home. We have given deeply to this place, pouring in whatever we had in every generation: labor, culture, protest, philanthropy, policy, innovation. So, too, have we been nourished by this city.

We love New York. We want to stay, not in silence, not on sufferance, but fully and without fear. We wonder if that is possible in a city led by Zohran Mamdani.

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of JTA or its parent company, 70 Faces Media.

The post We’re Jews in Zohran Mamdani’s neighborhood. You don’t want NYC to be like this. appeared first on The Forward.

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HaKarot HaTov: Artificial Intelligence Can Never Replace Human Love and Wonder

Illustrative: Fourth grade students from Kibbutz Parod with certificates they received from the Israel Antiquities Authority for finding and turning in an ancient oil lamp. Photo: IAA.

One of the things that primary teachers regularly encounter is children calling them “mom” or “dad.” This is usually followed by serious embarrassment on behalf of the child, and possibly nervous laughter from their classmates.

Most teachers will just smooth incidents like this over, but the good ones will perhaps reflect on its underlying meaning — how in a very real sense for the child, they can temporarily become the child’s mother or father. It’s an expression of the incredibly important role teachers play in the lives of children, acting as the adult presence that bridges across from their family existence to their encounters with the larger world. This is what, unconsciously, children are tapping into when they mix up “mom” and “miss.”

Teachers are really important to kids — and the emotional investment that teachers make in children, and that children make in teachers, is enormous. Sometimes teachers can even provide the love and care that a child’s parents cannot. Teachers matter. Or at least they did.

What it seems the future holds, as AI models improve exponentially, is children each having their own AI-powered tutor responding in real time to their learning needs. AI’s ability to gauge the progress, challenges, and requirements of each child are likely far beyond anything a human teacher could ever hope to achieve. I don’t doubt that this is coming soon, and that many parents, and many governments, will be thinking of the undeniable benefits that these AI tutors will bring.

They don’t need a salary, they don’t need time off, and they can be there at any time of day. On top of that, millions of children are already using AI chat bots for emotional support. AI tutors will soon combine academic and emotional and pastoral support in one package. Unlike human teachers, they will never get tired, or angry, or disappointed, or get distracted from their charges’ needs.

We might wonder why any of this might be a problem. In a near future where robots will care for the elderly, do our shopping, and undertake surgery, and other AI bots will be our lawyers and accountants, as they already are our software engineers, why does it matter if children are taught by AI tutors?

Perhaps it doesn’t. Perhaps children and parents won’t be able to tell the difference, or even care if they can. Having human teachers won’t be important. Maybe we will just need a few humans to check if the AI tutors are on track to ensure that the kids of the future (or the kids of next year) learn enough to read and write, and to count well enough so that they don’t spend their universal basic income all at once.

I had a friend who was a great teacher who taught in Jewish schools in London. He died a decade ago, far too young. He was dyslexic and he told me how he used to share this with his pupils and get them to help him with his spelling on the board. A small thing perhaps, but I just think how much this communicated to those young people — about dealing with adversity, compassion, and empathy. I also remember how, when I was walking with him, we might bump into some of his old pupils. Always, they were so pleased to see him.

He was still “sir,” someone important in their lives, who had helped them navigate the path from their families, out to the world as independent adults. There was also, I would venture, something there that no robot teacher or AI tutor could ever truly have. That thing was love. The love that teachers bring to their work, that drives their professionalism and their commitment and care for the next generation.

Children know that teachers are not parents — that they only come into their lives for a short time and then leave. Yet they also know that just like their parents, teachers can love and care about them — really care about what happens to them. Children also learn how adults apart from their parents can, like my friend, not be perfect, and not know everything, but still set an example through their own behavior, and push them to achieve or keep going, even when it is challenging. They can feel how this connection with adults, with other human beings, molds and creates their adult selves.

Another thing that my friend’s pupils had was gratitude. As Dostoevsky wrote, gratitude is a fundamentally human quality, because someone has to give it, and someone has to receive it.  But Judaism recognized this decades before the Russian literary geniuses of the 19th century.

The Jewish concept of HaKarot HaTov or “Recognizing the Good” means gratitude, but it also implies something transcendent — the wonder of just taking the time to stop and reflect on what we have. HaKarot HaTov teaches us that it’s through gratitude to other people that we come closer to G-d. Large language models and algorithms don’t have aims, or desires, or feelings. They can’t love. AI tutors quite literally are incapable of caring whether the children they work with live or die. They can’t receive gratitude from their students, or give it, not really, because there is no “them.” Perhaps we should think more than twice before we sign up to an education system where children have no one to say thank you to.

Joseph Mintz is Professor of Inclusive Education at UCL. Follow him @jmintzuclacuk. His views are his own and do not reflect those of his employers.

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The Palestinian Authority Just Paid ‘Pay-for-Slay’ Salaries to 8,000 Terrorists

The opening of a hall that the Palestinian Authority named for a terrorist who killed 125 people. Photo: Palestinian Media Watch.

The mask is off: The Palestinian Authority (PA) announced that 8,000 terrorist prisoner pensioners would receive their monthly Pay-for-Slay “pension” salary this week — and confirmations of receipt of the deposits are already being observed over social media.

A Palestinian social media post confirming Pay-for-Slay payments have gone out.

The minimum amount for such salaries is 4,000 shekels for terrorists who spent five years in prison. Going by that minimum, the PA just paid these terrorists — which constitute only one third of all Pay-for-Slay recipients — at least 32 million shekels — over US $10 million.

However, in actuality, this most conservative estimate is far lower than the amount that was likely paid out, as some of the more infamous terrorists released in recent hostage deals have spent 30 or more years in prison. Terrorists with such status receive at least 12,000 shekels each month.

A chart detailing Palestinian payments to terrorists.

One year after PA President Mahmoud Abbas promised the US, Canada, UK, Australia, and the EU that he was ending Pay-for-Slay, there is no escaping the fact that this was just another deception and a lie.

The PA remains an unreformed sponsor of terror.

The author is a contributor to Palestinian Media Watch, where a version of this article first appeared. 

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Is Hebrew a European Language? Debunking Five Myths About Modern Hebrew

A researcher of MiDRASH, a project dedicated to analyzing the National Library of Israel’s digital database of all known Hebrew manuscripts using Machine Learning, including manuscripts from the Cairo Geniza, holds up a 12th century fragment of a Yom Kippur liturgy in Jerusalem, Nov. 24, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Ronen Zvulun

If you spend enough time on social media, you’re likely going to come across claims about Hebrew that will make your head spin:

Hebrew is a European language.

Hebrew is actually stolen Arabic.

There is no connection between Modern Hebrew and Biblical Hebrew.

For any student of Jewish history or a Hebrew speaker, these outrageous assertions are not just patently wrong — they’re utterly absurd.

Yet they are not random. They form part of a broader effort to delegitimize Zionism and deny the Jewish people’s historic ties to the Land of Israel. This piece examines some of those claims, and the facts that dismantle the myths.

Myth: Hebrew Was a Dead Language Until Eliezer Ben Yehuda Revived It

Hebrew was not a dead language before the late 19th century. But it was not yet the dynamic, everyday vernacular spoken today by millions in Israel and around the world.

To understand the roots of modern Hebrew, we first must go back to the second century C.E. Following the Roman suppression of the Bar Kokhba revolt, Hebrew gradually declined as a spoken language among Jews in the Land of Israel, as Aramaic and other languages took precedence.

But Hebrew did not disappear and did not cease to exist as a language. Rather, it transitioned from a daily spoken language into a primarily literary and liturgical one, preserved in prayer, scholarship, poetry, legal discourse, and correspondence.

The Jewish legal corpus, the Mishnah, was written a number of centuries later in Hebrew.

Rabbinic commentaries, correspondence between different Jewish communities, and scholarly texts (including a medical textbook) were all written in Hebrew throughout late Antiquity and the Medieval periods. The first Hebrew printing press in the Land of Israel was established in the 16th century.

The Enlightenment of the 18th and 19th centuries saw the emergence of Hebrew newspapers and a new Hebrew literature.

All of this occurred before Eliezer Ben Yehuda’s time.

What he sought to do was take the Hebrew language and turn it into a spoken tongue that would aid in the communication between Jews from different communities.

It is true that before Ben Yehuda arrived on the scene, there were Jews in the Land of Israel who spoke Hebrew. There were even attempts in the late 19th century to establish purely Hebrew schools in Ottoman Palestine. However, there were no speakers whose primary tongue was Hebrew or who were native Hebrew speakers. People could speak Hebrew on the street but would go home and speak in other languages to their family and friends.

Ben Yehuda’s Hebrew project saw the establishment of the first “Hebrew-language home,” with his son brought up in a strictly Hebrew-speaking environment.

The revival of Hebrew gained decisive momentum during the Second Aliyah (1904–1914), when waves of Jewish immigrants to the Land of Israel embraced it not merely as a literary language, but as a spoken vernacular, with Hebrew officially adopted as the language of the Zionist movement in 1904.

By the time the British Mandate of Palestine was established in 1922, Hebrew was designated as one of the Mandate’s three official languages.

By 1948, 93 percent of Israeli children under the age of 15 used Hebrew as their primary language.

While Ben Yehuda is largely credited with starting this linguistic revolution, it was essentially a collaborative effort with his family members and other Hebraists expanding Hebrew’s vocabulary to turn it into the modern and dynamic language that we know today.

Myth: Modern Hebrew Is a European Language

Truth: One of the ways in which those opposed to the return of the Jews to their indigenous homeland cast doubt upon the connection between modern Israel and ancient Israel is by claiming that the Hebrew spoken today is not the same as that spoken in the land 2,000 years ago — and that modern Hebrew is, in fact, a European language.

This claim points to the revitalization of Hebrew by a European Jew, Eliezer Ben Yehuda, and the adoption of words from European languages (such as English, German, Russian, and French) by the modern Hebrew dictionary.

However, this is a red herring.

All languages adopt terms from other languages. In ancient times, Hebrew manuscripts borrowed terms from neighboring languages such as Aramaic, Persian, Greek, and Latin.

So, too, today modern Hebrew is influenced by foreign languages. The same with Arabic, English, Russian, and Japanese. Nearly all languages make some use of “loanwords.” Hebrew’s use of “loanwords” does not turn the language suddenly into a European tongue.

As we will see in the next section, despite the modern Hebrew dictionary being developed by a European Jew, modern Hebrew is based on Biblical Hebrew and is, indeed, a Semitic language.

Myth: Modern Hebrew Is Not a Semitic Language

Truth: Similar to the myth that modern Hebrew is a European language, people also make the absurd claim that modern Hebrew is not a Semitic language.

One of the main pieces of “evidence” cited for this claim is that the pronunciation of some Hebrew letters is different from the pronunciation in other Semitic tongues, like Arabic. The two most prominent letters that are brought up in this argument are the guttural Ayin and Het.

Of course, there are several points that undermine this claim.

First, pronunciation is not an indication of whether a language is Semitic or not.

As pointed out by Hebrew language researcher Elon Gilad, Semitic tongues are defined by their three-consonant roots, a structure that existed in Biblical Hebrew and continues to exist in modern Hebrew.

Second, even other Semitic languages feature different pronunciations based on geographic region. There are certain pronunciation differences between the Arabic spoken in Egypt and the Arabic spoken in Jordan and the Arabic spoken in Iraq. However, they are still considered Semitic languages.

Third, even some ancient peoples who spoke Semitic languages, such as the Akkadians and Samaritans, lost the glottal stop in their pronunciation. Yet, no one considered de-classifying their pronunciation as “Semitic.”

Lastly, the more guttural pronunciation of Hebrew is still practiced by some Israelis whose families came from Arabic-speaking lands, particularly the Yemenites. This does not make their Hebrew Semitic while the Hebrew of another Israeli, speaking the same exact words just in a different accent, would be considered a non-Semitic tongue.

Myth: Modern Hebrew is Based on Arabic

The opposite of the “Hebrew is European” myth is the equally false myth that modern Hebrew is based on Arabic.

According to this myth, a large percentage of modern Hebrew (some claim up to 80%) is made up of Arabic words.

As mentioned above, modern Hebrew does use “loanwords” from Arabic (as well as other languages) but its vocabulary and grammar are not a large-scale coopting of Arabic.

This myth is meant to deny the ties between Biblical and modern Hebrew, thus also severing the historic ties between the Jewish people and the Land of Israel and depicting Israeli Jews as somehow fraudulent.

Myth: Modern Hebrew Speakers Cannot Understand Biblical Hebrew

It is true that modern Hebrew and Biblical Hebrew are not the same.

However, it is not true that a modern Hebrew speaker would not understand the Bible.

While there are structural differences between the two Hebrews and there isn’t a 100 percent overlap between the two vocabularies, an educated Israeli would be able to open the Bible and understand a good portion of the Hebrew text.

Analysts have noted that the relationship between Biblical Hebrew and modern Hebrew is much closer than the relationship between ancient Greek and modern Greek (which are considered linguistic relatives).

The relationship between Biblical Hebrew and modern Hebrew is likened to the relationship between Shakespearean English and modern English. While the modern English speaker may not be able to read an entire play without assistance, they will recognize the language used by the Bard as being similar to their own tongue.

However, there are some who claim that a student of Biblical Hebrew (with no grounding in modern Hebrew) would not be able to understand a contemporary Hebrew text due to the developments that have taken place in the language.

That observation is hardly surprising. Languages evolve over centuries – English today would be barely intelligible to a reader of Chaucer. Yet evolution does not mean rupture. Modern Hebrew rests on the same grammatical foundations and core vocabulary that have bound Jewish texts and communities together for millennia.

Its revival was not the creation of something new, but the renewal of something enduring.

The author is a contributor to HonestReporting, a Jerusalem-based media watchdog with a focus on antisemitism and anti-Israel bias — where a version of this article first appeared.

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