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‘There was no time to sleep’: 4 Jews reflect on a year of helping Ukrainians at war
(JTA) — In the months after Russian tanks rolled into her country last February, the music largely stopped for Elizaveta Sherstuk.
The founder of a Jewish choral ensemble called Aviv in her hometown of Sumy, in the northeastern flank of Ukraine, Sherstuk had to put singing aside in favor of her day job and personal mission: delivering aid to Jews in Sumy.
“There was no time to sleep,” Sherstuk recalled to the Jewish Telegraphic Agency recently. “All my team members worked the same, 24/7.”
A year later, Sherstuk is still hustling as the Sumy director of Hesed, a network of welfare centers serving needy Jews in the former Soviet bloc. But she has also begun teaching music classes again, too — with performances sometimes held in bomb shelters.
Catch up on all of JTA’s Ukraine war coverage from the last year here.
Sherstuk’s story reflects the ways that Russia’s war on Ukraine has affected Jews in Ukraine and beyond. The conflict has killed hundreds of thousands, left even more in peril and fundamentally altered the landscape and population of Ukraine, forcing millions to flee as refugees.
But the war has also mobilized the networks of Jewish aid and welfare groups across Europe, leading to a Jewish organizational response on a massive scale not seen in decades. And Ukrainian Jews who have remained in the country have recalibrated their lives and communities for wartime.
Here are four stories about Jews who stepped in and stepped up to help, and a taste of the on-the-ground situations they found themselves in.
‘I was needed there’
Enrique Ginzburg, second from right, is shown with Ukrainian doctors in Lviv. (Courtesy of Ginzburg)
Since nearly drowning at 23, Dr. Enrique Ginzburg has felt he “had to pay back” for the extra years of life he was granted.
Now 65, the professor of surgery at the University of Miami’s Miller School of Medicine and its trauma division has lent his critical care expertise in Haiti, Argentina, Kurdistan and Iraq, in various emergency situations. But until last year, he had never been to a war zone.
The Cuba native felt drawn to Ukraine because his grandfather is from Kyiv, while his grandmother is from nearby eastern Poland. So early on in the conflict, he called Dr. Aaron Epstein, an old friend and the founder of the nonprofit Global Surgical and Medical Supply Group.
“Get yourself a flak jacket, a helmet, a gas mask and come on over,” Ginzburg said Epstein told him.
He has been to Ukraine twice under the nonprofit’s auspices, last April and July. Ginzburg’s explanation for why he flew across the world to put himself in danger: “I was needed,” he said.
His base was an emergency hospital in Lviv, a city located west enough that it became a major refugee hub. He consulted with front-line Ukrainian physicians, many of them young and inexperienced, and hospital administrators, watching the doctors in action. He also visited patients in hospital wards and helped to treat gunshot wounds and assorted combat injuries.
Ginzburg’s bags were packed with meaningful supplies. Some had been requested by his Ukrainian colleagues for medical use, mostly specialized catheters. But he also brought tefillin, the phylacteries used by Jews in their morning prayers. Ginzburg, who studied in a yeshiva while young but no longer considers himself Orthodox, wrapped them every day while in Ukraine.
Even though Lviv was far from the fighting, he could hear air raid sirens and the explosion of the Russian missiles, sometimes feeling the earth shake. When intelligence reports warned Ginzburg’s medical team of impending missile attacks, they sought refuge in safe houses.
“Today,” he told the Miami Herald last June, “I was calling my life insurance [company] because I have young sons and my wife, so I’m trying to make sure I have good coverage.”
By the end of his trips, Ginzburg lost count of the number of doctors he helped train and the number of patients he saw. “I’m sure it’s hundreds.” He plans to make a third trip sometime this year.
‘This is our new reality’
Karina Sokolowska is the director of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee’s activities in Poland. (Courtesy of the JDC)
As the director of the JDC, or the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, in Poland, Karina Sokolowska has heard countless harrowing stories over the past year. But one sticks out in her memory.
It involved an elderly Ukrainian couple she met at the Poland-Ukraine border in late spring. The husband was in a wheelchair, and Sokolowska helped push him — back towards Ukraine. They had spent three months in a shelter in Poland but eventually “realized we cannot go looking for jobs, we cannot restart our lives. We are too old,” the woman said.
“If they are to die, they’d rather die back home,” Sokolowska said. “It’s a story of hopelessness. They are so vulnerable.”
Last year, about 8 million Ukrainian refugees made their way to Poland, the bordering country that accepted the most refugees. Early on in the conflict, Sokolowska contacted and visited Jewish communities throughout Poland, investigating the availability of places where the soon-to-be-homeless refugees could be housed. She also traveled to some of the border crossings where the Ukrainians entered, to arrange transportation to venues in Poland and to oversee the conditions in which the refugees would begin their new lives.
Later she would help with, among other things: arranging legal advice for the people who arrived with few identification documents; lining up medical care and drugs; finding them short- and long-term housing; connecting them to psychological counseling; providing kosher meals; and even caring for the refugees’ pets (“dogs and cats with no documents”).
According to JDC statistics, the organization “provided essential supplies and care” to 43,000 Jews in Ukraine and “aided 22,000+ people” there with “winter survival needs … more than double the amount served in previous years.” The welfare organization also claimed to provide “life-saving services” to more than 40,000 refugees in Poland, Moldova, Romania, Hungary, Bulgaria and other European locations. It also helped evacuate about 13,000 Jews from Ukraine. (Israeli Foreign Minister Eli Cohen recently said 15,000 Ukrainian Jews in total have immigrated to Israel since the start of the war.)
Karina Sokolowska, JDC director for Poland and Scandinavia sits in her office down the hall from a hotline room, in early March 2022. (Toby Axelrod)
At the height of the refugee flood, Sokolowska said her monthly JDC budget ballooned to more than what she previously spent in an entire year. Her office went from having a few employees to over 20. The amount of sleep she got decreased in tandem; she started taking sleeping pills to get rest when she could.
“This is our new reality” in Poland, she says of the JDC work with Ukrainian refugees. “This is our life now.”
Sokolowska, the granddaughter of Yiddish-speaking Holocaust survivors, became active in Jewish life during college, when a classmate heard her pronouncing some German words with a Yiddish accent and persuaded her to lead the Polish Union of Jewish Students. As JDC director for Scandinavian countries in addition to Poland, she typically organizes educational conferences and helps Jewish families learn about traditions they had not learned while growing up in the communist era.
Today, her sense of optimism has been ground down.
“Everything changed when war came to Ukraine — there is less hope,” Sokolowska said. “It’s a totally new everything. Every aspect of our life changed. Our hope for this to be over soon is going down, down, down. Nothing will change.”
‘It could [have been] me’
Tom and Darlynn Fellman volunteered in Krakow in October 2022. (Courtesy of Tom Fellman)
Sometime in the late 1890s, Harry Fellman, about 20 years old, left his home in Ukraine. According to family legend, he was a sharpshooter in the Ukrainian army and was about to be sent into active combat. Instead, he emigrated to the United States and settled in Omaha, Nebraska, where he became a peddler.
His grandson Tom Fellman — whose middle name is Harry — doesn’t know all the 120-year-old details, but he knows that he is grateful that Harry Fellman decided to leave Ukraine when he did.
“It could [have been] me, if my grandparents had not left when they did,” said Fellman, a successful real estate developer and philanthropist in Omaha.
In October, at 78 years old, Fellman made the reverse trip across the Atlantic to pitch in to the relief effort. He also wanted to pay what he sees as a debt to the memory of his late grandfather and to help the current generation of Ukrainian Jews.
He and his wife Darlynn served as volunteers for a week at the Krakow Jewish community center, joining hundreds (possibly thousands) of volunteers from overseas who have gone to Poland and the other nations in the region over the last year to participate in humanitarian programs on behalf of the millions of Ukrainian refugees. Fellman worked nine hours a day with a half-dozen fellow foreign volunteers in the basement of the community center, transferring the contents of “big, big” sacks of items like potatoes and sugar into small containers to be distributed to refugees in the building’s first-floor food pantry. His wife spent her time in an art therapy program that was set up for the refugee mothers and children to raise their spirits.
Fellman is “not particularly religious” but supports “anything Jewish.” In 1986, he accompanied a rescue mission plane of Soviet Jews headed to Israel. “It was the most rewarding experience of my life,” he recalled.
Fellman says he plans to return to Poland, in June, for the JCC’s annual fundraising bike ride from Auschwitz to Krakow.
What did his friends think of his septuagenarian volunteer stint? “They thought it was cool,” he said. “But none of them are going too.”
‘Everything was a risk’
Elizaveta Sherstuk runs a branch of Hesed, a network of welfare centers, in Sumy, Ukraine. (Courtesy of Sherstuk)
Sherstuk’s parents would have sent their daughter to a Jewish school in her early years if they had had the option. But Jewish education was not permitted In Sumy during the final years of communist rule in the Soviet republic. Sherstuk was exposed to Jewish life only at home.
Her parents infused her with a Jewish identity, she said, and her grandparents used to talk and sing songs in Yiddish. That inspired Sherstuk’s first career as a singer and a music teacher, during which she founded Aviv and took it on tour throughout the region singing traditional Jewish songs. Later, she became the director of Sumy’s branch of the JDC-funded Hesed network.
Sumy, an industrial city with a population of 300,000 before the war situated only 30 miles from the Russian border, was one of Russia’s first targets. In the days before the pending invasion, Sherstuk stockpiled food, which was certain to become scarce in case of war, and arranged bus transportation to safer parts of the country for hundreds of vulnerable civilians, mostly the elderly and disabled. The bus plan fell through for safety issues.
As the bombing started, it became dangerous for members of the local 1,000-member Jewish community, many of them elderly, to venture outside of their apartments. Sherstuk, working out of a bomb shelter, assisted by a Hesed network of volunteers, coordinated food and medicine deliveries.
The situation grew more dire, and she coordinated the Jewish community’s participation in a brief humanitarian corridor evacuation of vulnerable civilians that the Russians permitted. She communicated with Sumy residents mostly by smartphones provided by the JDC — the Russian attacks had cut the landlines — and accompanied the busloads of Sumy Jews to western Ukraine. Some of them eventually moved on to Israel, Germany, or other nearby countries, she said.
Sherstuk stayed in western Ukraine for a while (“The humanitarian corridors are only for one-way trips,” she noted), moving from place to place, keeping in touch with the Jews of Sumy and waiting for Ukraine’s army to make the trip back safe. But Sumy, like many Ukrainian cities, has come under frequent Russian rocket attack.
“Everything was a risk,” she said. “We were following whatever our hearts told us to do. We had to save people. I was the one who had to do it.”
Last May, Sherstuk was among 12 men and women (and the sole one from the Diaspora) who lit a torch at the start of Israel’s Independence Day in a government ceremony on Mount Herzl. During two weeks in Israel, she spent some time with members of her family, and held a series of meetings with JDC officials, government ministers and donors. “It was not a vacation,” she said.
After going back to Sumy, at the suggestions of her choral group members and fellow Sumy residents, she organized concerts in Hebrew, Yiddish, Ukrainian and Russian — some in person, some in a bomb shelter in the city’s central square, some online. She has now resumed her music classes, too, and it has all boosted morale. “I [teach] all the time,” she said.
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24 visions of Leonard Cohen, no clear picture of who he was
The World of Leonard Cohen
Edited by David R. Shumway
Cambridge University Press, 398pp, $35
The Torah has 70 faces — how many did Leonard Cohen have? To go by bibliography, 70 seems conservative.
Books devoted to the singer-songwriter and poet, including a graphic novel treatment, are a cottage industry. There are texts on the “Mystical Roots” of his genius, Alan Light’s authoritative study of his song “Hallelujah,” an account of his tour of the Sinai during the Yom Kippur War and surveys about the critical response to his oeuvre. Entering the mix is The World of Leonard Cohen, a 24-essay collection breaking down the multitudes the man contained.
“More than Dylan or anyone else in popular music, he remains a mystery because he doesn’t fit any of the usual categories,” editor David R. Shumway writes in his introduction. “Almost any statement you can make about him must immediately be qualified or be met with a contrary.”
Indeed, Cohen defies a strict taxonomy: an English-speaking Jewish Buddhist monk who grew up in a Catholic francophone town and established himself as a poet before entering the music industry. Throughout his life, he shapeshifted, from enfant terrible of the Montreal literary scene to depressive psalmist, wizened ladies’ man and, after a years-long exile, a humble, appreciative elder statesman whose fan base peaked sometime after his AARP eligibility.
Shumway’s book begins with essays covering Cohen’s creative life, then moves onto his musical, religious and cultural contexts with a kind of epilogue for his legacy and a tease of the treasures to come in his archive.
Many of the early details — provided in Ira Nadel’s quick, first chapter biography — may not be new to Cohen acolytes. The familiar tale of 9-year-old Cohen burying his first poem in his father’s bowtie and his “messianic childhood” is given its proper due.
Gillian A.M. Mitchell’s consideration of how Cohen — who discovered The People’s Song Book as a Jewish summer camp counselor — floated in the folk music periphery hints at the trickiness of genre. Shumway’s subsequent chapter, which suggests Cohen was the ur-singer-songwriter, may be overstating its case. (He himself seems to admit the lack of a confessional quality sets Cohen apart from the likes of Joni Mitchell, even if their dalliance inspired her move away from folk.)
Most engaging in the volume, on a man who relished contradictions, are the diverging details, which build out on a minimal p’shat — or surface text — with what feels like midrash.
A Flamenco guitarist, who taught Cohen his limited repertoire of chords (what Cohen called his “chop”) gets an early mention. Only later do we read their lessons were cut short by the guitarist’s suicide. Some chapters note how the press assigned Cohen the moniker “The Canadian Bob Dylan.” Later ones note how Cohen, at a party with the “Montreal Group” of poets, “solemnly announc[ed] that he would become the Canadian Dylan, a statement all dismissed.” Who brought the Dylan records to that shindig is a detail left up for grabs.
Many chapters tell the origin story for Cohen’s New York debut with Judy Collins, placing it at Town Hall. Others contend the incident — which saw Cohen leave the stage in fear — put the incident earlier at the Village Theatre. Sylvie Simmons, author of I’m Your Man: The Life of Leonard Cohen, discovered the discrepancy in a letter Cohen sent to his lover Marianne Ihlen, putting Simmons at odds with other biographers.
The final chapter, on the Cohen archive, quotes that letter and gives a fuller picture of what, exactly, went wrong.
“I stepped up to the mike, hit a chord on my guitar,” Cohen wrote, “found the instrument had gone completely out of tune, tried to tune it, couldn’t, decided to sing anyhow, couldn’t get more than a croak out of my throat, managed four lines of ‘Suzanne,’ my voice unbelievably flat, then I broke off and said simply, “Sorry, I just can’t make it,” and walked off the stage, my fingers like rubber bands, the people baffled and my career in music dying among the coughs of the people backstage.”
He then reports the “curious happiness” of his failure, which, when Collins coaxed him back onstage, became a success.
This being Cohen, several essays are given to his spiritual seeking. Sadly, the entry on his Jewishness is at times the most opaque.
“From Cohen’s perspective, to fulfill its prophetic mission, Judaism must serve as the speculum through which to envision the universalization of the particular in the particularization of the universal.” writes Jewish mysticism scholar Elliot R. Wolfson, chasing that observation by noting how the “Jew attests figurally to the fact that the general must always be measured from the standpoint of an individuality that withstands collapsing the difference between self and other in the othering of the self as the self of the other.”
Clearer is the section on Buddhist affinities, by Christophe Lebold, author of Leonard Cohen: The Man Who Saw the Angels Fall. Lebold teases out how Cohen’s zen practice informed his lyrics and poetry, fusing with his Jewishness to create a syncretic philosophy.
The essay on Christianity by Marcia Pally is fine, but insists at times on a mono-reading of Cohen’s words. It also contains a risible parenthetical: “Jesus sustained covenantal bonds; no one else has (save Abraham and Moses).” This, to me, may as well have read “Jeff Buckley sang ‘Hallelujah;’ no one else did (save Leonard Cohen and John Cale).”
The overall effect of this volume, which also includes essays on the use of Cohen’s music in film, his image management in documentaries and his appeal to women, is to come away with great insights and still be at a loss.
David Boucher’s section on Cohen’s politics makes a case for Cohen as a contrarian who concealed his purportedly conservative politics to better cater to his liberal fanbase.
Somehow, even after being pistol-whipped by Phil Spector while recording Death of a Ladies’ Man, he was “undoubtedly a proud NRA member.” In a 1988 documentary for Canadian television, he opined that drugs coming into America constituted a legitimate “attack” and suggested the Army “go in and bomb the countries” responsible. (The man who wrote “The Future” showed some prescience here.)
Was he just being provocative for the fun of it? Probably. He did a fair amount of drugs. In a notebook from his archive that points to Cohen’s infatuation with Velvet Underground chanteuse Nico, he wrote how he “asked her to get heroin.”
Cohen studies continue, soon to be aided by the digitization of his archive of notebooks, film, photographs, visual art and recordings. Will these artifacts bring us closer, or further away, from understanding the man?
He spent a lifetime trying to figure himself out. We don’t stand a chance.
The post 24 visions of Leonard Cohen, no clear picture of who he was appeared first on The Forward.
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What we know about the car crash at Chabad-Lubavitch Headquarters in Brooklyn
CROWN HEIGHTS — A driver crashed a car into an entrance of the Chabad-Lubavitch world headquarters in Brooklyn on Wednesday night, damaging the building on a night thousands had gathered there to celebrate.
Video circulating online and verified by eyewitnesses shows a vehicle repeatedly driving into the building’s doors at 770 Eastern Parkway in the Crown Heights neighborhood, the main synagogue of the Chabad movement and one of the most recognized Jewish institutions in the world. One witness said the driver had yelled at bystanders to move out of the way before he drove down a ramp leading to the doors.
Police arrested the driver at the scene and the synagogue was evacuated as a precaution.
The incident occurred on a festive evening in the Chabad world — Yud Shevat, the day that Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson took the movement’s reins in 1951. Chabad revelers from around the globe travel to Crown Heights each year to celebrate the occasion at farbrengens, or toasts, that are spread out in Chabad homes all over the neighborhood. The largest one is held at the movement’s iconic headquarters — Schneerson’s former home — with as many as 3,000 people in attendance.
Avrohom Pink, a 19-year-old Chabad yeshiva student, said the program at the headquarters had just concluded when the incident occurred.
He and a couple dozen others stood near the top of a ramp down to the pair of doors, a sedan turned into the driveway. Its driver, who Pink said was in his mid-twenties or early thirties with shoulder-length hair, yelled at people to get out of the way.
“He was trying to pull in, yelling at everyone to move out the way, interestingly — didn’t want to run people over, I guess,” Pink said. “Everyone moved out the way, and then he just drove down the ramp, rammed his car into those doors.”
While the car managed to push in the wooden doors, there was nobody in the anteroom they led to. The approximately 1,000 people Pink estimated were still in the building were behind another pair of doors on the other side of that room. Over the din of their celebration, they couldn’t hear what was going on, Pink said.
Rabbi Motti Seligson, a spokesperson for the movement, said on X that the ramming “seems intentional, but the motivations are unclear.”
The incident is being investigated as a hate crime by the NYPD Hate Crimes Task Force, Police Commissioner Jessica Tisch said.
During the election campaign and since taking office, Mayor Zohran Mamdani has repeatedly said he is committed to protecting Jewish New Yorkers and ensuring security around synagogues and other houses of worship.
The attack follows a rash of antisemitic incidents across the city. On Tuesday, a rabbi was verbally harassed and assaulted in Forest Hills, Queens, and last week, a playground frequented by Orthodox families in the Borough Park neighborhood in Brooklyn was graffitied with swastikas two days in a row. In both incidents, the suspects have been arrested. Antisemitic incidents accounted for 57% of reported hate crimes in 2025, according to the NYPD.
While the driver’s intent remained unclear, condemnation poured in from elected leaders.
City Council Speaker Julie Menin called it a “horrifying incident” and a “deeply concerning situation.” New York State Attorney General Letitia James, who has close ties to the community, posted on X, “These acts of violence against our Jewish communities, and any of our communities, need to stop. Now.”
Mayor Zohran Mamdani arrived at the scene about two hours of the incident being reported and denounced the attack. “This is deeply alarming, especially given the deep meaning and history of the institution to so many in New York and around the world,” Mamdani said in a statement, standing alongside Police Tisch, who is Jewish. ”Any threat to a Jewish institution or place of worship must be taken seriously.” The mayor added that “antisemitism has no place in our city” and expressed solidarity with the Crown Heights Jewish community,
During the election campaign and since taking office, Mamdani has repeatedly said he is committed to protecting Jewish New Yorkers and ensuring security around synagogues and other houses of worship.
The incident came during a rash of antisemitic incidents across the city. On Tuesday, a rabbi was verbally harassed and assaulted in Forest Hills, Queens, and last week, a playground frequented by Orthodox families in the Borough Park neighborhood in Brooklyn was graffitied with swastikas two days in a row. In both incidents, the suspects have been arrested. Antisemitic incidents accounted for 57% of reported hate crimes in 2025, according to the NYPD.
The celebrations, which also mark the yahrtzeit of the Rebbe’s predecessor in 1950, continued at other locations in spite of the incident.
Pink described Yud Shevat as “Rosh Hashana for Chabad.”
”
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France, Spain Signal Support to Blacklist Iran’s IRGC as EU Moves Closer Toward Terrorist Designation
Commanders and members of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps meet with Iran’s Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei in Tehran, Iran, Aug. 17, 2023. Photo: Office of the Iranian Supreme Leader/WANA (West Asia News Agency) via REUTERS
The European Union could soon label Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) as a terrorist organization, after France and Spain signaled a shift in support amid mounting international outrage over the Iranian regime’s violent crackdown on anti-government protests and shocking reports of widespread civilian deaths.
As two of the largest EU member states previously to oppose blacklisting the IRGC, France and Spain could tip the balance and pave the way for the designation, as the regime’s brutal suppression of dissent at home and support for terrorist operations abroad continues.
On Wednesday, a day before EU foreign ministers meet in Brussels to discuss the issue, French Foreign Minister Jean-Noel Barrot announced that France will back the move to blacklist the IRGC, saying the repression of peaceful protesters must not go unanswered and praising their courage in the face of what he described as “blind violence.”
“France will support the designation of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps on the European Union’s list of terrorist organizations,” he posted on X.
After reversing its long-standing opposition to the move, France also urged Iran to free detained protesters, halt executions, restore digital access, and permit the UN Human Rights Council to investigate alleged abuses.
Multiple media outlets also reported that the Spanish government is expected to back the EU’s move to blacklist the IRGC, aligning with France in breaking its previous opposition.
The United States, Canada, and Australia have already designated the IRGC as a terrorist organization, while Germany and the Netherlands have repeatedly called on the EU to do the same.
Some European countries, however, have been more cautious, fearing such a move could lead to a complete break in ties with Iran, which could impact negotiations to release citizens held in Iranian prisons.
The EU has already sanctioned the IRGC for human rights abuses but not terrorism.
Labeling the IRGC as a terrorist organization would not only extend existing EU sanctions, including asset freezes, funding bans, and travel restrictions on its members, but also activate additional legal, financial, and diplomatic measures that would severely limit its operations across Europe.
Earlier this week, Italy also reversed its earlier hesitation and signaled support for the measure after new reports exposed the scale of Iran’s brutal crackdown on anti-government protests — a move that sparked diplomatic tensions, with the Iranian Foreign Ministry summoning the Italian ambassador.
According to local media, Iranian authorities warned of the “destructive consequences” of any labeling against the IRGC, calling upon Italian Foreign Minister Antonio Tajani to “correct his ill-considered approaches toward Iran.”
Tajani said the Iranian regime’s bloody crackdown on anti-government protests this month that reportedly killed thousands of people could not be ignored.
“The losses suffered by the civilian population during the protests require a clear response,” Tajani wrote on X. “I will propose, coordinating with other partners, the inclusion of the Revolutionary Guards on the list of terrorist organizations, as well as individual sanctions against those responsible for these heinous acts.”
As international scrutiny over the regime grows, new estimates show that thousands have been killed by Iranian security forces during an unprecedented crackdown on nationwide protests earlier this month, far surpassing previous death tolls.
Two senior Iranian Ministry of Health officials told TIME that as many as 30,000 people could have been killed in the streets of Iran on Jan. 8 and 9 alone.
The Iranian regime has previously reported an official death toll of 3,117. But new evidence suggests the true number is far higher, raising fears among activists and world leaders of crimes against humanity.
The US-based Human Rights Activists News Agency (HRANA), which tracks deaths by name and location, has confirmed 5,858 deaths, including 214 security personnel. Nearly 20,000 potential deaths are still under investigation, and tens of thousands of additional Iranians have been arrested amid the crackdown.
Established after Iran’s 1979 Islamic Revolution, the IRGC wields significant power in the country, controlling large sectors of the economy and armed forces, overseeing Iran’s ballistic missile and nuclear programs, and coordinating closely with the regime’s terrorist proxies in the region.
Unlike the regular armed forces, the IRGC is a parallel military body charged with protecting Iran’s authoritarian regime, ensuring its so-called Islamist revolution is protected within the country and can be exported abroad.