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U.N. exhibit remembers when the world turned its back on stateless Jewish refugees
(New York Jewish Week) — In 2017, Deborah Veach went back to Germany, looking for the site of the displaced persons camp where she and her parents had been housed after World War II. They were in suspension, between the lives her parents led in Belarus before they were shattered by the Nazis, and the unknown fate awaiting them as refugees without a country.
To her dismay, and despite the fact that Foehrenwald was one of the largest Jewish DP centers in the American-controlled zone of Germany, she found barely a trace. A complex that once included a yeshiva, a police force, a fire brigade, a youth home, a theater, a post office and a hospital was remembered by almost no one except a local woman who ran a museum in a former bath house.
“It was sort of an accident of history that we were there in that particular camp in Germany, of all places, with no ties, no extended family, no place to call home,” said Veach, who was born at Foehrenwald in 1949 and lives in New Jersey. Now, “they renamed it. They changed the names of all the streets. There is nothing recognizable about the fact that it had been a DP camp.”
Veach is part of a now-aging cohort of children born or raised in the DP camps, the last with a first-hand connection to the experience of some 250,000 Jewish survivors who passed through them at the end of the war. To make sure memories of the camps survive them, the YIVO Institute for Jewish Research and the United Nations Department of Global Communications have staged a short-term exhibit, “After the End of the World: Displaced Persons and Displaced Persons Camps.”
On display at U.N. headquarters in New York City Jan. 10 through Feb. 23, it is intended to illuminate “how the impact of the Holocaust continued to be felt after the Second World War ended and the courage and resilience of those that survived in their efforts to rebuild their lives despite having lost everything,” according to a press release.
Residents of a displaced persons camp in Salzburg, Austria. Undated, post-Second World War. (YIVO Institute for Jewish Research)
Among the artifacts on display are dolls created by Jewish children and copies of some of the 70-odd newspapers published by residents, as well as photographs of weddings, theatrical performances, sporting events and classroom lessons.
The exhibit is “about the displaced persons themselves, about their lives and their hopes and their dreams, their ambitions, their initiatives,” said Debórah Dwork, who directs the Center for the Study of the Holocaust, Genocide, and Crimes Against Humanity at the Graduate Center-CUNY, who served as the scholar adviser for the exhibition.
“There’s no point where the residents of these DP camps were just sitting around waiting for other people to do things for them,” she told the New York Jewish Week. “They took initiative and developed a whole range of cultural and educational programs.”
As early as 1943, as the war displaced millions of people, dozens of nations came to Washington and signed onto the United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Authority. (Despite its name, it preceded the founding of the U.N.) After the war, the British and U.S. military were in charge of supplying food, protection and medical care in hundreds of camps throughout Germany and Austria, and UNRRA administered the camps on a day-to-day basis.
Early on, Jewish Holocaust survivors — some who suffered in concentration camps, others who had escaped into the Soviet Union — were put in DP camps alongside their former tormentors, until the U.S. agreed to place them in separate compounds. Unable or unwilling to return to the countries where they had lost relatives, property and any semblance of a normal life, they began a waiting game, as few countries, including the United States, were willing to take them in, and Palestine was being blockaded by the British.
Abiding antisemitism was not the only reason they remained stateless. “Jews were [accused of being] subversives, communists, rebels, troublemakers, and the world war quickly gave way to cold war, and with it the notion that Hitler had been defeated and what we have to worry about is the communists,” David Nasaw, author of “The Last Million,” a history of the displaced persons, told the New York Jewish week in 2020.
In 1948 and 1950, Congress grudgingly passed legislation that allowed 50,000 Jewish survivors and their children to come to the United States. The rest were eventually able to go to Israel, after its independence in 1948.
The U.N. exhibit focuses less on this macro history — which includes what became another refugee crisis for the Palestinians displaced by Israel’s War for Independence — than on life in the DP camps.
“The exhibition illustrates how the displaced persons did not shrink from the task of rebuilding both their own lives and Jewish communal life,” said Jonathan Brent, chief executive officer at YIVO, in a statement.
Among those rebuilding their lives were Max Gitter and his parents, Polish Jews who had the perverse good luck of being exiled to Siberia during the war. The family made its way to Samarkand, in Uzbekistan, where Gitter was born in 1943. After the war ended, his parents returned to Poland, but repelled by antisemitism sought refuge in the American zone in Germany. They spent time in the Ainring DP camp, a former Luftwaffe base on the Austrian border, and at a small camp called Lechfeld, about 25 miles west of Munich.
Dolls made by stateless Jewish children residing in a DP camp near Florence, Italy, known as “Kibbutz HaOved.” The dolls are attired in local costumes based on the districts of the Tuscan city of Sienna. (YIVO Institute for Jewish Research)
“I was there until we came to the United States when I was six and a half, so I have some very distinct memories and some hazy memories,” said Gitter, emeritus director and vice chair of the YIVO board. One story he hasn’t forgotten is how his father and a friend were walking through the camp when they came upon a long line of people. “They were from the Soviet Union, so they knew that when there’s a line that it might be of interest.” It turned out to be a line for the lottery that would allow them to get into the United States under the Displaced Persons Act of 1948.
The family came to the United States in 1950, to “pretty shabby lodgings” in the Bronx, before his father bought a candy store and moved to Queens. Max went on to attend Harvard College and Yale Law School, and became a corporate litigator.
Gitter’s brother was born in one of the camps, and the exhibit includes a poster depicting the population increase between 1946 and 1947 at the Jewish DP center Bad Reichenhall. The birthrate in the camps has often been described as evidence of the optimism and defiance of the survivors, but Dwork said the truth is somewhat more complicated.
“There was a very high birth rate among the Jews in DP camps. This is the age group of reproductive age, at 20 to 40,” she said. “However, this image of fecundity hides what was rumored to be a significant abortion rate, too. And women had experienced years of starvation. Menstruation had only recently recommenced. So many women, in fact, miscarried or had trouble conceiving to begin with.”
A chart by artist O. Lec depicts the natural population increase of the Jewish Center Bad Reichenhall, Germany, 1946-1947. There was a very high birth rate among the Jews in DP camps. (YIVO Institute for Jewish Research)
“There is no silver lining here,” she added. “People live life on many levels. On the one hand, DPs look to the future and look with hope; at the same time, they carry tremendous burdens of pain and suffering and trauma and trepidations about the future.”
Veach, a member of the YIVO board, hopes visitors to the exhibit understand that such trauma is hardly a thing of the past.
“I think the real lesson is that history keeps repeating itself,” said Veach, growing emotional. “Basically we have DPs on our border with Mexico, you have DPs from Ukraine. I don’t think people realize the repercussions for these people who are trying to find a place to live. These are good people who are just placed where they are by history.”
Gitter, who like Veach will speak at an event Jan. 24 at the U.N. marking the exhibit, also hopes “After the End of the World” prods the consciences of visitors.
“A lot of the countries, a lot of places, including the United States, would not accept Jews after the war,” he said. “The issue of memory, the issue of statelessness, the issue of finally there was some hope for the Jews in their immigration to Israel and the United States — that part of the story also needs to be told.”
“After the End of the World: Displaced Persons and Displaced Persons Camps” is on view from Jan. 10-Feb. 23, 2023, at the United Nations Headquarters, 405 E 42nd St, New York, Monday-Friday, 9:00 a.m.-5:00 p.m. Entrance to the United Nations Visitor Centre in New York is free, but there are requirements for all visitors. See the United Nations Visitor Centre entry guidelines.
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Yiddish Modernism and the political tumult in the 1930s
אין די 1920ער און 1930ער יאָרן האָט דער זשורנאַל „אין זיך“ געדינט װי אַ טריבונע פֿאַר מאָדערניסטישע עקספּערימענטן אין דער אַמעריקאַנער ייִדיש־ליטעראַטור. צו די „אינזיכיסטן“ האָבן געהערט יעקבֿ גלאַטשטײן, אַהרן גלאַנץ־לעיעלעס, ה. לײװיק, שלמה שװאַרץ, יהודה לײב טעלער און אַנדערע.
װי מען קען טרעפֿן פֿונעם זשורנאַלס נאָמען, זײַנען די דאָזיקע ליטעראַטן געװען פֿאַרטאָן אין שעפֿערישע חקירות אַרום דעם אײגענעם „זיך“. און טאַקע, אין די 1920 יאָרן האָט „אין זיך“ ניט געהאַט קײן אינטערעס צו די פּאָליטישע דאגות־היום.
אָבער דאָס האָט זיך געביטן נאָך 1934, װען גלאַטשטײן איז געװאָרן דער רעדאַקטאָר פֿונעם זשורנאַל. דער דאָזיקער תּקופֿה איז געװידמעט דאָס נײַע בוך פֿון איתי זוטרא (אוניװערסיטעט פֿון מאַניטאָבאַ, קאַנאַדע) „אינזיכיזם: ייִדיש־דיכטונג און די ייִדישע אידענטיטעט אין אַמעריקע אין די 1930ער יאָרן“.
גלאַטשטײן האָט פֿאַרטײדיקט די שעפֿערישע אױטאָנאָמיע פֿונעם דיכטער קעגן די אַנגאַזשירטע קאָמוניסטישע קריטיקער װי אַלכּסנדר פּאָמעראַנץ, װאָס האָבן געפֿאָדערט, אַז ליטעראַטור זאָל דינען די אינטערעסן פֿון די פּראָלעטאַרישע מאַסן.
אַזױ איז גלאַטשטײנס אײגענע פּאָעטישע שאַפֿונג געװאָרן אַ מין פּאָליטישע פּאָזיציע. די דאָזיקע פּאָליטיק, האַלט זוטרא, האָט משפּיע געװען אויף זײַן ליטעראַרישן סטיל און דעם סטיל פֿון אַנדערע מחברים פֿון „אין זיך“.
גלאַטשטײן האָט געעפֿנט די זײַטן פֿון „אין זיך“ פֿאַר פּאָליטישע װיכּוחים. ער אַלײן איז אַרױס מיט אַ פֿאָרשלאָג צו שאַפֿן אַ פּאַרטײ, װאָס זאָל זײַן אי פּאָליטיש ראַדיקאַל אי ייִדישיסטיש, הגם קײן פּראַקטישע פּראָגראַם האָט ער ניט פֿאָרגעלײגט.
להיפּוך צו אַנדערע ראַדיקאַלע פּאַרטײען, קודם־כּל דער קאָמוניסטישער, איז דער הױפּטציל פֿון גלאַטשטײנס פּאַרטײ געװען צו פֿאַרטײדיקן ייִדישע נאַציאָנאַלע אינטערעסן. דאָס איז געװען ספּעציעל װיכטיק אין דער צײַט װען דער אַנטיסעמיטיזם האָט געהאַלטן אין אײן װאַקסן אין אײראָפּע.
גלאַטשטײן האָט פֿאַרבעטן ייִדישע ליטעראַטן אַרומצורעדן זײַן פּראָיעקט אױף די זײַטן פֿונעם זשורנאַל. לרובֿ זײַנען זײ ניט געװען אײַנשטימיק מיט גלאַטשטײן. דער עיקר זײַנען זײ געװען קעגן דער אידײ, אַז די אינטעלעקטואַלן דאַרפֿן װערן פּאָליטישע אָנפֿירער פֿון די מאַסן.
חוץ דעם, װי עס האָט באַמערקט חיים זשיטלאָװסקי, זײַנען שױן דאָ געװען גענוג פּאָליטישע פּאַרטײען אין װעלכע ייִדן האָבן זיך אַקטיװ באַטײליקט. צו שאַפֿן נאָך אַ פּאַרטײ װאָלט ניט געהאָלפֿן צו פֿאַרבעסערן דעם מצבֿ פֿון ייִדן.
דער אינזיכיזם, האַלט זוטרא, איז בטבֿע געװען עקלעקטיש סײַ פּאָעטיש און סײַ פּאָליטיש. מען האָט ניט געהאַלטן פֿון טראַדיציאָנעלע זשאַנערס און סטילן. אָפֿט מאָל האָט מען עקספּערימענטירט מיט מישן פּראָזע און פֿערזן.
אין די 1930ער יאָרן האָבן די ליטעראַרישע עקספּערימענטן באַקומען אַ פּאָליטישן אַקצענט. סײַ אין דער קונסט און סײַ אין דער פּאָליטיק האָבן די אינזיכיסטן געזוכט אַן ענטפֿער אױף דער עיקר־פֿראַגע: װאָס איז דער עצם פֿונעם ייִדישן „זיך“ אין אַמעריקע אין דער מאָדערנער תּקופֿה?
דער אינזיכיזם איז געװאָרן אַ נײַער מין ייִדישיזם: אַ קולטורעלע און פּאָליטישע אידעאָלאָגיע, װאָסער ציל איז געװען צו פֿאַראײניקן פֿאַרשײדענע פּאָליטישע שטרעמונגען אױפֿן סמך פֿון דער ייִדישער שפּראַך און דער מאָדערנער װעלטלעכער ייִדיש־קולטור.
גלאַטשטײן האָט געגלױבט, אַז װערטער דאַרפֿן טראָגן דעם װירקלעכן אמת, בפֿרט אין די צײַטן, װען כּלערלײ טאָטאַליטאַרישע רעזשימען האָבן פֿאַרשפּרײט ליגנס פֿאַר די צװעקן פֿון זײער מערדערישער פּראָפּאַגאַנדע.
אינעם בוך לידער „ייִדישטײַטשן“, װאָס איז אַרױס אין װאַרשע אין 1937, האָט גלאַטשטײן געפּרוּװט דערגרײכן די טיפֿסטע פֿאָנעטישע און לעקסישע װאָרצלען פֿון דער ייִדישער שפּראַך.
אין די שורות „אַלטער בױם, פֿעלדז און שטאַם / כ׳קום צו דיר מיט ברױט און גראַם“ דריקט גלאַטשטײן אױס זײַן פּאָזיציע לגבי דער ייִדישער קולטור־ירושה. ער קומט מיט זײַן אַמעריקאַנער „ברױט און גראַם“ צו דעם „אַלטן בױם“ פֿון ייִדיש כּדי צו שעפּן שפּראַכלעסע יניקה פֿאַר זײַן פּאָעזיע.
זוטרא אַנטפּלעקט אין „ייִדישטײַטשן“ סאַטירישע אונטערטענער, װאָס מאַכן חוזק סײַ פֿון די פֿאַשיסטן און קאָמוניסטן און סײַ פֿון די אַמעריקאַנער אַסימילאַטאָרן.
די צװײטע צענטראַלע פֿיגור אינעם אינזיכיזם איז געװען דער דיכטער, קריטיקער און זשורנאַליסט אַהרן גלאַנץ־לעיעלעס. אין 1937, אײנצײַטיק מיט גלאַטשײטנס „ייִדישטײַטשן“, איז אַרױס גלאַנץ־לעיעלעס בוך לידער „פֿאַביוס לינד“.
אין הסכּם מיט די עסטעטישע פּרינציפּן פֿונעם אינזיכיזם איז דאָס דאָזיקע בוך אַ מישמאַש פֿון סטילן, זשאַנערס און שטאַנדפּונקטן, װאָס זײַנען פֿאַרקניפּט דורך דער פֿיגור פֿונעם הױפּטהעלד. דאָס איז אַ פּאָעטישער סך־הכּל פֿונעם איניזכיסטישן פּעריאָד אין לעיעלעסעס שאַפֿונג, האַלט זוטרא.
„פֿאַביוס לינד“ האָט באַקומען התלהבֿותדיקע אָפּרופֿן מצד די קריטיקער. גלאַטשטײן האָט געהאַלטן דאָס בוך פֿאַר דער „ערשטער גרױסשװוּנגיקער און גרױסשטאָטישער פּאָעמע אין דער ייִדישער פּאָעזיע“, און ה. לײװיק האָט עס געלױבט פֿאַר זײַן „אָרגאַנישער גאַנצקײט“.
די פֿיגור פֿון פֿאַביוס לינד איז ניט קײן אױטאָביאָגראַפֿישע. זוטרא מאַכט אַ פּרוּװ צו אַנטפּלעקן די פֿאַרפּלאָנטערטע באַציִונגען צװישן דעם מחבר אַהרן גלאַנץ־לעיעלעס, זײַן פּאָעטישער פּערזאָן אַ. לעיעלעס, און זײַן אױסגעטראַכטן „אַלטער עגאָ“ — פֿאַביוס לינד.
לינד פֿיגורירט אינעם בוך װי אַ צעשפּאָלטענע פּערזענלעכקײט: „פֿאַביוס לינד פֿיל לעבנס פֿירט ער“. ער איז סײַ אַ פּראָדוקט און סײַ אַ קרבן פֿון זײַן תּקופֿה.
לינד האָט ספֿקות װעגן כּלערלײ פּראָיעקטן צו לײזן די „ייִדישע פֿראַגע“, אינעם סאָװעטישן ביראָבידזשאַן אָדער אינעם העברעיִש־רעדנדיקן ייִשובֿ אין ארץ־ישׂראל.
חוץ לידער האָט גלאַנץ געשריבן פּאָליטישע קאָמענטאַרן אין דער ליבעראַלער צײַטונג „דער טאָג“. להיפּוך צו גלאַטשטײן האָט ער ניט פֿאַרטראַכט קײן אײגענע פּאָליטישע פּראָיעקטן. זײַן פּאָליטישער שטאַנד איז געװען אין הסכּם מיטן פּראָגרעסיװן הױפּטשטראָם פֿון פֿראַנקלין רוזװעלטס „ניו דיל“.
דער לעצטער נומער פֿון „אין זיך“ איז אַרױס אין 1940, װען אײראָפּע איז שױן געשטאַנען אױפֿן שװעל פֿונעם חורבן. דער קאָנפֿליקט צװישן אַלװעלטלעכקײט און ייִדישקײט, װאָס איז געװען די צענטראַלע טעמע פֿון די אינזיכיסטישע חקירות, איז געלײזט געװאָרן לטובֿת ייִדישקײט.
גלאַטשטײן האָט פּראָקלאַמירט: „אַ גוטע נאַכט, ברײטע װעלט. […] אױף מײַן אײגענעם געבאָט גיי איך צוריק אין געטאָ“. דאָס איז געװען דער סוף פֿונעם ייִדישן מאָדערניזם, פֿאַרסך־הכּלט זוטרא.
די פּאָעטישע קולטור־ירושה פֿון די אינזיכיסטן איז פֿאָרגעשטעלט געװאָרן פֿאַרן ענגליש־שפּראַכיקן עולם אין דער פּרעכטיקער צװײ־שפּראַכיקער אַנטאָלאָגיע „אַמעריקאַנער ייִדישע פּאָעזיע“, װאָס איז אַרױס אין 1986 אונטער דער רעדאַקציע פֿון בנימין און באַרבאַראַ האַרשאַװ.
אין דער הקדמה האָט בנימין האַרשאַװ פּרטימדיק אַנאַליזירט די פֿאָרמעלע און סטיליסטישע חידושים, װאָס די אינזיכיסטן האָבן אַרײַנגעבראַכט אין דער ייִדישער פּאָעזיע אין די 1920ער יאָרן, אָבער ער האָט קױם באַרירט זײער פּאָליטיק.
זוטראס בוך באַטראַכט די אינזיכיסטישע שעפֿערישקײט אונטער אַן אַנדערן קוקװינקל. אין די 1930ער יאָרן זײַנען פּאָליטיק און פּאָעזיע געװאָרן נאָענט צונויפֿגעפֿלאָכטן אין די װערק פֿונעם לעצטן דור אַמעריקאַנער ייִדישעמאָדערניסטן.
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I never saw myself in Barbie. Would ‘Hanukkah Barbie’ have changed that?
I wasn’t really a Barbie kid. While I occasionally played with my sister’s hand-me-down Barbies, I preferred American Girl dolls. They were Barbie’s chunkier, cherubic counterparts, each representing a girl from a different period in history and accompanied by a series of historical-fiction books about her life. I devoured those books, including the story of Rebecca Rubin, a 9-year-old Russian-Jewish immigrant living on the Lower East Side in the early 1900s.
So when Mattel released its first Hanukkah Barbie last week — officially marketed as the “Barbie Holiday Sweater Doll” — I wondered whether she would have appealed to me when I was growing up. Would her Jewishness have made her feel more relatable than that blonde-haired, blue-eyed, impossibly proportioned bombshell?
As it turns out, I wasn’t the only one thinking about what it means for Barbie to look Jewish. Shortly after her release, Hanukkah Barbie set off a spirited debate over her appearance. Her nose seemed slightly more prominent than the default Barbie button nose, raising questions about whether Hanukkah Barbie’s face reinforced Jewish stereotypes, or if her distinctive nose reflected a good-faith effort to give the doll recognizably Jewish features.
It was at least clear that Mattel did its homework about the Festival of Lights. The hanukkiah on Barbie’s sweater has the correct number of candleholders, and the dreidels bear accurate Hebrew lettering — which is more than can be said about a lot of Hanukkah merchandise. If sales are any indication, Hanukkah Barbie is resonating. The doll, which originally retailed for about $30, is sold out, with third-party sellers now asking for as much as $345.
There have previously been Barbies modeled after Jewish celebrities, including Olympic gymnast Aly Raisman, Israeli Olympic surfer Anat Lelior and fashion designer Diane von Furstenberg. But Hanukkah Barbie is the first Barbie whose identity is simply Jewish — which means she will have the impossible task of representing Jews of all kinds. Sephardic and Ashkenazi Jews, religious and secular Jews all have to somehow find themselves in the same doll.
Complicating matters, the original blonde Barbie has arguably been Jewish all along. Ruth Handler, the daughter of Polish-Jewish immigrants, invented Barbie in 1959, naming “Barbie” after her daughter, Barbara, and “Ken” after her son, Kenneth. “Barbie is a matrilineal Jew? Love it!” one Reddit user joked last month.
But Barbie was always a little too Aryan-coded to feel Jewish to me. Her origins go back to the postwar German ideal of blonde, white femininity. Handler drew inspiration for Barbie’s look from a German toy named Bild Lilli, marketed toward men as a gag gift and sold in bars and tobacco shops. That doll, in turn, was based on the comic-strip character Lilli, characterized by Barbie’s unofficial biographer M.G. Lord as “a golddigger, exhibitionist, and floozy” who worked as a secretary while looking for a wealthy husband. Bild Lilli was manufactured by O.M. Hausser, a toy company that had produced Adolf Hitler figurines during the 1930s.
No wonder stereotypically Ashkenazi-looking Jews like me, not to mention everyone else who also didn’t fit the Barbie mold, felt left out of Barbie-land. (Which is literally everyone, given that scaled up to human size, a traditional Barbie doll’s proportions would make her unable to survive; there’d be no room for her organs in her tiny waist, and she’d have no choice other than to walk on all fours.)
Over the years, Barbie has become far more inclusive. After the debut of the “Colored Francie” doll in 1967, Barbie expanded to include dolls of different races, body types and abilities, including dolls with prosthetic limbs and wheelchairs and, in 2016, the long-awaited introduction of “curvy,” “petite” and “tall” Barbies. Mattel introduced career-themed dolls in the 1960s, evolving from fashion designer, nurse, and flight attendant to a presidential candidate Barbie in 1992.
The American Girl doll, which Mattel acquired in 1998, was part of a similar response to the limitations of the traditional fashion doll. Created by teacher Pleasant Rowland in 1986, American Girl was designed to help girls see themselves in their dolls while making history feel personal and engaging.
Of course, little kids aren’t thinking so much about the sociological implications of their toy choices. For my part, my mom bought me an American Girl look-alike doll with my brunette hair and choppy bangs, hoping that seeing myself reflected in a doll would help build my self-esteem. But I also gravitated toward a blonde-haired, blue-eyed American Girl doll that looked more Barbie-esque, which I begged my mom to buy.
Looking back, I wonder how much of the Barbie beauty standard I had subconsciously absorbed, even with an array of representative dolls at my disposal. Hanukkah Barbie may more closely resemble women like me. But changing the default cultural image of Barbie will take more than a doll with a light-up Hanukkah sweater.
The post I never saw myself in Barbie. Would ‘Hanukkah Barbie’ have changed that? appeared first on The Forward.
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Minnesota man charged with ISIS-inspired plot on Jewish-owned Mall of America
(JTA) — The FBI accused an 18-year-old man of buying an AK-47 assault rifle with plans to commit a mass shooting in support of ISIS at the Mall of America in Bloomington, Minnesota, the largest indoor shopping mall in North America.
Sheikhdoon Abdullahi Mohamud, of Richfield, Minnesota, was charged on Wednesday with one count of knowingly receiving a firearm and ammunition in order to commit a federal crime of terrorism, according to a federal complaint filed on Wednesday.
Mohamud’s attorney did not respond to JTA’s request for comment.
Mohamud wanted to attack the Mall of America because he believed its owners to be Jewish, the FBI said in a statement. He planned to kill between 30 and 60 people, according to messages he exchanged with a confidential source, according to the complaint.
Mall of America is owned and operated by Triple Five Group, controlled by the Ghermezian family, a Canadian family of Iranian Jewish origin.
Messages sent in September 2026 included a video in which Mohamud pledged allegiance to ISIS, the complaint said. He planned his attack for Oct. 24 because he expected a crowd at the Hmong Arts Celebration scheduled for that day.
The complaint said an undercover FBI agent sold an AK-47 rendered inoperable, four 30-round magazines and 200 rounds of ammunition to Mohamud for $600 on Oct. 6. During the sale, Mohamud confirmed his plans to commit a mass shooting. Mohamud was arrested shortly after the sale.
The complaint said Mohamud wanted to commit an attack similar to the 2016 Pulse nightclub shooting in which 49 victims were killed; the Bondi Beach mass-shooting in Sydney last December, during which 15 victims were killed during a Hanukkah celebration; and a New Orleans truck-ramming attack that killed 14 victims in New Orleans on Jan. 1, 2025.
The investigation into Mohamud began around December 2024, when he messaged the confidential source on multiple social media platforms, according to the complaint, detailing his desire to travel to Somalia to join a group that the U.S. has designated a foreign terrorist organization. If travel was not possible due to financial constraints, he said would move forward with an attack in Minnesota.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post Minnesota man charged with ISIS-inspired plot on Jewish-owned Mall of America appeared first on The Forward.
