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A Serbian city’s Jewish community barely survived the Holocaust. Now it might die out.
NOVI SAD, Serbia (JTA) — In the heart of downtown in Serbia’s second-largest city, nestled between brick buildings on a leafy street, sits a large synagogue.
With its 130-foot-high central dome and faded yellow brick facade, along with its Jewish school and offices on either side, the synagogue’s three-building complex has become a must-see tourist attraction, with multilingual panels in its courtyard explaining the area’s Jewish history.
The synagogue was built to accommodate up to 950 worshippers in the first decade of the 20th century. But like the city and Serbia more broadly, the building has clearly seen better days. On two recent days, a family was camped outside the entrance, begging passersby for money.
Before World War II, Novi Sad had roughly 60,000 inhabitants, 4,300 of whom were Jews — about 7% of the total population. Most were affluent merchants, lawyers, doctors and professors. Their wealth was reflected in the city’s opulent synagogue, constructed between 1906 and 1909 by Hungarian Jewish architect Lipot Baumhorn, whose work incorporated elements of the Art Nouveau movement.
Today, however, the prominent building serves a dwindling community that, like others decimated by the Holocaust and further eroded by the Balkan wars of the 1990s, fears for its future as residents disperse abroad. Only about 640 Jews remain in Novi Sad; others have sought a future in Israel or countries that offer more economic opportunity.
“We use our own shul only for Yom Kippur,” said Novi Sad native Ladislav Trajer, the deputy president of the Federation of Jewish Communities of Serbia.
“We get six to 10 people for Shabbat — maybe 15 — but fewer than half are male so we can’t make a minyan,” said Trajer, referencing a Jewish prayer quorum of 10 men. He spent eight years in Israel and also served in the Israel Defense Forces. “Even in Belgrade, which is much larger, the rabbi doesn’t always get a minyan. And nobody here keeps kosher. You can’t get kosher meat.”
Novi Sad was a thriving center of Jewish life in prewar Yugoslavia and the city — now a metropolis of 370,000 sometimes called the “Serbian Athens” — was named a European Culture Capital of 2022 for its arts, food, architecture and other cultural scenes.
But most local Jews see few prospects for themselves in a country beset by economic turmoil. Between 1990 and 2000 — following Yugoslavia’s collapse; the ethnic wars in Croatia, Bosnia and later Kosovo; and the imposition of crippling sanctions by the United States, the European Union and the United Nations — Serbia’s GDP tumbled from $24 billion to $8.7 billion. By 1993, nearly 40% of Serbia’s people were living on less than $2 a day, and at present, the average Serb earns approximately $430 to $540 a month.
Despite those difficulties, Serbia agreed in 2017 to pay just over $1 million annually over the ensuing 25 years to its remaining Jews as compensation for property nationalized by the postwar communist regime. Half of that money goes directly to Jewish community organizations, 20% to Holocaust survivors and the remaining 30% to projects that aim to preserve Jewish traditions.
Since 2012, the Novi Sad community has also earned income by renting out its huge synagogue to the municipality for classical music concerts. In return, the city maintains the complex as a historic monument, and it is now repairing the synagogue’s roof and fixing leaky water pipes.
“These buildings were close to collapse,” said Trajer. He added that the city’s neglected Jewish cemetery can look like a forest. “So we are cutting the trees and struggling to put up fences.”
Although antisemitic incidents are not too common, Serbia, like most other countries in Eastern Europe, also contends with a strong nationalist streak. Trajer, who monitors antisemitism closely, said around 1,500 Serbs belong to extremist groups, of which perhaps 120 are active. Serbian Action, a small group of neo-Nazis, occasionally holds rallies and spray-paints antisemitic, anti-immigrant and anti-gay graffiti on public buildings.
“In high school, my history professor joked that Hitler couldn’t get into an art academy, and that’s why he decided to kill the Jews,” said Teodora Paljic, a 20-year-old Jewish university student. “I don’t talk about these things with people I don’t feel safe around.”
She said that “Life in Serbia is very difficult” because “all the prices have gone up, but salaries haven’t increased since 2019.”
Novi Sad is the capital of Vojvodina, an autonomous province that covers much of northern Serbia, and at the local Jewish community’s zenith, 86 synagogues flourished in the province. Today, only 11 remain standing, and most have fallen into disuse.
Mirko Štark, president of the Jewish Community of Novi Sad, said Jews first settled in the city in the 17th century, shortly after its founding in 1694 under the Hapsburg monarchy.
“When the Austro-Hungarian Empire, where most Ashkenazim lived, introduced new laws that restricted Jews from living in cities, many people ran to the border area, where these laws were not so strictly enforced,” Štark said. Later, when the Serbs captured Vojvodina, those restrictions were rescinded, and the Jewish community blossomed.
Following World War I and the establishment of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes — later Yugoslavia — Novi Sad’s Jews enjoyed a cultural and economic renaissance that saw the formation of a Jewish community center, athletic clubs, choirs and several Jewish newspapers.
That renaissance ended abruptly in 1941, when the Hungarian army, in collaboration with Nazi Germany, occupied Novi Sad, making life for Jews intolerable. Over a three-day period in January 1942 now known as the Novi Sad Massacre, the Hungarians rounded up more than 1,400 Jews, seized their property, shot them in their backs and threw them into the freezing Danube River.
After Hungary’s capitulation to Germany, armed guards herded the city’s remaining 1,800 Jews into the synagogue and kept them there for two days in deplorable conditions without food or water. On April 27, 1944, the Nazis marched their weakened Jewish captives to the train station, then forced them on a train to Auschwitz that took two months to arrive due to Allied bombing.
Only 300 of Novi Sad’s Jews survived the Holocaust, and rebuilt the community virtually from scratch in the ensuing postwar chaos.
“There were no religious people anymore, and no rabbi,” said Štark. “Many went to Israel in the first aliyah. The small number of Jews remaining tried to keep the community alive, opening a kitchen to provide food for people who couldn’t buy for themselves. My grandmother survived Auschwitz. She worked in that kitchen.”
According to Trajer, from 1948 to 2022, no Shabbat services were held. These days, Trajer conducts all religious services because he’s the only one who knows the Hebrew prayers fluently.
With 640 members, Novi Sad has the nation’s second-largest Jewish population after Belgrade. The capital is home to more than half of the country’s 3,000 Jews, out of a total population of 7.1 million. Smaller Jewish communities can also be found in Subotica, Niš and other cities. Only the synagogues in Belgrade and Subotica — the latter located a few miles from the Hungarian border — still function.
Most members of the Novi Sad community, including Štark, have married non-Jews.
“My wife is not Jewish. Neither was my mother. Only my father was Jewish,” he said. “After World War II, the choices for finding husbands and wives within the community was limited. For this reason, we accept non-Jewish spouses as members. This is the only way to survive.”
Štark, 70, is a retired professor of media production who worked for years at Novi Sad’s main TV station. He’s also the longtime president of the synagogue’s choir, HaShira, which sings in Hebrew, Ladino and Yiddish and recently won an award for its performances in neighboring Montenegro. Only three of the choir’s 35 members are Jews.
“When I began my mandate as president a year and a half ago, we woke up many activities in the Jewish community that had existed only on a small scale before,” he said.
Besides the choir, these include the Zmaya dance troupe as well as a Jewish culture club that meets every Tuesday at 6 p.m. to discuss books and Israeli movies. There’s also a “baby club” for small children and another club for teens, whose activities are led by two adults. Hanukkah and Passover are celebrated by families together, and on Tu B’Shvat, the community plants trees.
The community is also investing in its members, and Paljic is emblematic of that hope.
Paljic, interviewed at the trendy Café Petrus, a 15-minute walk from Novi Sad’s Jewish cemetery, is the daughter of Jewish parents who met at a Purim party in Belgrade.
“My grandparents were killed in Jasenovac [a notoriously brutal concentration camp], but my best friend’s grandmother survived Auschwitz,” she said. “The problem is, people don’t talk about Judaism because they’re scared. There is still antisemitism. Last year, somebody drew a swastika at the entrance to the Jewish cemetery in Belgrade. We were all shocked.”
This summer, Paljic worked as a counselor at Hungary’s Camp Szarvas, which brings together young Jews from throughout Central and Eastern Europe. The camp welcomed 20 children from Novi Sad this year; the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee paid their tuition.
While she would like to be close to her family, Paljic said she must be practical.
“I want to go somewhere outside Serbia when I finish college,” she said. “I don’t see my career here. I love art history and photography, but there’s no money in that in Serbia.”
Despite the challenges, Štark isn’t ready to say kaddish for Novi Sad’s Jews just yet.
“We will keep the Jewish spirit alive here. We are working hard, starting with the children,” he said. “If we don’t, everything will die in five or 10 years. So it depends on us.”
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House of Commons tables report on antisemitism with recommendations for Canadian universities
The House of Commons has tabled a comprehensive report addressing antisemitism on Canadian university campuses, presenting 19 recommendations for federal, provincial, and institutional action.
Issued on Dec. 10, the report emphasizes the enforcement of campus codes of conduct, the prevention of hate speech, and the provision of antisemitism education through organizations that recognize the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA) definition of antisemitism.
It also calls for universities to unequivocally denounce antisemitism, uphold academic freedom, and oppose anti-Israel movements such as Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions (BDS).
Additional measures include the creation of a national anti-hate fund, enhanced police training on hate crimes, and funding for Holocaust education that incorporates modern-day antisemitism.
Federal recommendations propose establishing a national review committee to assess the impact of campus antisemitism, creating specialized prosecution roles for hate crimes, and ensuring that Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion (EDI) frameworks include Jewish identity. The report also suggests banning symbols of terrorist organizations, standardizing definitions for hate crimes, and ensuring that Zionists have fair access to public spaces.
Montreal MP Anthony Housefather, who initiated the Justice Committee hearings earlier this year and serves as the special advisor to the prime minister and cabinet on Canada’s Jewish community, expressed hope that the unanimous report will inform both federal and provincial governments on ways to address rising antisemitism in Canada.
Housefather and Deborah Lyons, the special envoy on Holocaust remembrance and combating antisemitism, spent the summer consulting with university administrators and Jewish campus organizations to develop recommendations aimed at enhancing the safety of Jewish students.
Housefather told The Canadian Jewish News that, while challenges persist, there has been progress: “While there have been a lot of problems we’ve had on campuses, we have not had encampments [this past semester],” he said, adding that “the codes of conduct have been enforced better at most universities.”
Pro-Palestinian groups established encampments at many Canadian universities last spring and summer, and in some cases were removed only after court injunctions or by police.
Canadian universities, such as Concordia and McGill, saw intensifying animosity by anti-Israel groups throughout the last year, with demonstrators carrying out violence, verbal threats, and property destruction at both Montreal campuses.
Schools such as the University of Calgary saw anti-Israel protesters trapping Jewish students in a lecture hall in November during a talk with former Israeli spokesperson Eylon Levy.
Abuse of podium infractions have occurred at schools such as York University and University of Toronto, where teachers have called Zionism a form of social violence and have expressed anti-Israel views to students.
Lyons expressed the critical need for action in the House of Commons report. “When our Jewish citizens are targeted, it threatens the democratic ideals of equality and justice for all Canadians,” she said. “We pride ourselves on being a diverse and inclusive multicultural society. In this moment, we are being put to the test. It is not an overreach to say that our shared humanity is at stake.”
In the report’s introduction, Nati Pressman, founder of Canadian Union of Jewish Students, is also quoted. “Across the country, Jewish students who used to wear Jewish symbols, like the Magen David, now hide them as they walk past protests, including my friends who used to wear kippot, who now instead wear baseball caps going to class. This is not because we are any less proud to be Jewish, but because our universities have allowed an environment where being openly Jewish could be a threat to our safety,” she said.
The dissenting report from Conservative members of the Standing Committee on Justice and Human Rights emphasizes a “disturbing and unprecedented rise in antisemitism and hate crimes” under Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s government. It highlights a 165 percent increase in hate crimes since Trudeau took office, with 5,791 antisemitic incidents recorded in 2023 alone, following the Oct. 7, 2023, terror attacks in Israel.
The report stresses that “Jewish Canadians have the right to live in safety and without fear,” and calls for a unified response to combat violence, discrimination, and hatred.
While supporting most of the recommendations in the main report, the Conservative MPs argue that the Liberal government’s current approach to addressing antisemitism “is not working.”
They offer additional recommendations to strengthen Canada’s efforts, citing witness testimony and firsthand experience. “To protect our communities and uphold the values of equality and respect, it is imperative that we take decisive action against groups and ideologies that promote violence, hatred, and division,” says the dissenting report.
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Now it’s time to review the 75-writer anthology called ‘On Being Jewish Now’
Perhaps the woman behind the book On Being Jewish Now is a bit like Philip Roth after all.
It was a whole lot easier to be a post-parochialism Jew prior to Oct. 7. Zibby Owens, a leading American bookfluencer—and author, and publisher, and more—had not “disproportionately” sought out Jewish books. So she explains in the introduction to the anthology she just edited, which she is promoting this week in Toronto with a Holy Blossom Temple event featuring Indigo CEO Heather Reisman.
Back then, as far as Owens was concerned, “A book was a book was a book.”
And then Oct. 7 happened and she was moved to action. She edited an anthology which benefits a non-profit she started, Artists Against Antisemitism. I say Owens did this but there are teams credited alongside. This is a group effort. There is staff. It is a book. It is also, in a sense, a fundraising pamphlet that happens to exist in book form, which means that to review it is also to take that into account. This is more complicated than you might think.
I like to do book reviews with an open mind. If you’re someone I have a close personal relationship with or, conversely, had some kind of falling out with (though no one is coming to mind for the latter), I’m not reviewing your book. But I’m not a robot, and will often have a pre-existing conception of an author and their work. Maybe I like their writing generally, or don’t. Maybe we’ve had nice interactions online, maybe less-nice. But I will just pick the thing up and see what it is.
This was put to the test by my having already angered one contributor to On Being Jewish Now enough that I received the first-to-my-knowledge video-format criticism of something I’d written. Or at least the only one that included a face-powder-application interlude before cutting to the chase.
It was bad form, you see, to write a book review of a book I hadn’t even read. I suppose it would have been… which is why I did nothing of the kind. I do review books for The Canadian Jewish News, plenty of ‘em, but that essay wasn’t a book review. It was a lengthy essay about Jewish literature in which I briefly mentioned the existence of On Being Jewish Now, as a thing that exists in the world. This is an extremely normal thing to do, but tell that to Instagram.
Well. Face-powder-gate—paired with the offer of a galley—brought it right up to the top of the pile. My curiosity was piqued.
Here’s another important angle, at least I think it is: This could be a case of biases cancelling each other out, as I am, like the contributors, a Jew who’s troubled by post-Oct. 7 antisemitism, and who cares about the continued existence of Israel. I am an author and essayist (“artist” might be pushing it) with skin in the game, as well as an opinion writer and podcaster with a pretty decent track record if I may say so of covering incidents of literary antisemitism specifically. It was a bit jarring to find that I had become enemy du jour of a bunch of people with give or take my own views on the issue at hand. It had an element of, you got the wrong guy!
So, without further ado: I have read every page of On Being Jewish Now. Hadn’t then, have now. What I wrote previously was not a review of it. What follows is one—even if it may not be the kind of write-up that my detractors were wishing for.
***
As the title suggests, On Being Jewish Now prompted contributors—American, for the most part—to write essays foregrounding not just the Jewish aspects of their lives, but the way this shifted after Oct. 7. There are, one presumes, Jews who felt plenty Jewish prior, and still do. Also Jews who were exclusively thinking about sports betting or nail art or differential equations in the beforetimes and who have not changed their routines. But Jewishness is now more central for many of us, in ways that are hard to articulate. The book is an effort to articulate those, and to tell Jews who feel weird at the moment that they—we—are not alone.
A lot of it was relatable: the anxieties over public pronouncements of Jewishness, ones that would not have occurred to me on Oct. 6. If my kid wore Hanukkah pyjamas on pyjama day, what would happen? (Nothing happens when my kids wear these outside, which they do, often, and in a neighbourhood pretty darn committed to the freeing of Palestine.) There is something maddening, in the sense of insanity-inducing, about anxiety that feels simultaneously founded and unfounded.
It is also about the ambiguity of Jewish visibility, for Jews who are not in observant garb. The star-of-David necklace—whether someone would or would not feel comfortable wearing one, how one feels when spotting one on someone else—figures prominently. In her essay, Rabbi Rebecca Keren Eisenstadt Jablonski mentions some Jews responding to Oct. 7 by putting up a mezuzah, others by taking theirs down. This succinctly sums up the weirdness of our moment.
A range of religious observance levels and trajectories on that front are represented, but this is not—a la the recent child-sized essay book What Jewish Looks Like—a collection that gives the impression that the typical North American Jew is member of a visible (unambiguously non-white) minority group. There are nods to geographic and racial diversity (socioeconomic, not so much; getting to this), but it is for the most part stories of Ashkenazi Jews in parts of the United States where many Jews live. This seems entirely appropriate.
It nevertheless borrows from the language of ‘woke’—“trauma” used to describe things that did not happen to you personally, Jewish joy, holding space, things of that nature. It positions Jewish literature in the same way that Palestinian literature is positioned now, and that various other groups’ literatures have at moments where their oppression was the current news story. Someone I was discussing the book with described it—not derisively, just descriptively—as right-wing, and I had to say I wasn’t sure if that’s it. It defies that kind of categorization.
A lot is about online life, both because that’s how we live now, and because of how recent lockdowns were. Former Real Housewife of New York Jill Zarin explains that she “lost about 30,000 followers” on social media for posting about antisemitism. It’s unclear how she knows this—people don’t generally send you a note when they unfollow, which is assuming we’re talking people, not bots, to begin with—but, maybe?
The aforementioned Aliza Licht’s essay, “Being a Jewish Activist Wasn’t on Brand for Me,” describes a different experience: “People warned me that I would lose followers by [posting pro-Israel and anti-antisemitism content]. I’ve more than doubled my following.” Licht, whose three-paragraph bio explains that she is, among other things, “a personal branding expert,” is, without a question, an expert on personal branding. Points for self-awareness.
On Being Jewish Now is a remarkably polished and well-packaged effort, given the time frame. But the writing quality varies tremendously. American-Israeli author Ilana Kurshan’s moving essay about a pre-school world travel game in wartime Israel sits alongside the serious-topic-addressing but not particularly insightful musings of a writer whose job is “Chief Grief Officer®,” the registered-trademark symbol a part of her title.
The essays are grouped into thematic sections, with one on humour called, “You Have to Laugh.” While I’m sure the writers therein have made people laugh elsewhere, it’s a mix of essays that don’t appear to be going for comedy (a sweet remembrance of New York Jewish garment-industry and discount-shopping of yore ends with an it-can-happen-here epiphany) and ones that gesture at Jewish-humour tropes without really landing, like a joke about observing the Sabbath “except” if “[t]here’s a sale at Bergdorf’s.”
Some of the essays themselves read like ad copy. “American Girl Dolls and Jewish Joy,” by a co-creator of the dolls ($161 USD a doll) with a 1990s Jewish theme. And it’s like, I’m not mad at the dolls, I don’t object to their existence, but I suppose I do object to the idea that to properly fight antisemitism I am to read about how wonderful they are.
The well-known writer Daphne Merkin’s description of her stance regarding the Middle East itself made sense, and is the unspoken undercurrent to many of the essays. In effect, to oppose anti-Jewish hatred locally, you don’t need to have any particular stance or comprehension level where Israel’s military actions are concerned. Being awful to Jews locally isn’t just wrong on its own, but does not make life better for Palestinians. A point that cannot be repeated enough.
***
The format is unusual in that the bios are quite lengthy (as in, a third of the essay may be its bio), and appear immediately after each one, rather than in a separate author-bios section at the end. Amy Ephron (sister of the late Nora) manages hers in two sentences, a rare exception. The ratio of bio to essay is remarkable and therefore a reviewer would be remiss to not remark on it.
The bios are not particularly connected with the On Being Jewish Now theme, apart from the fact that they are about people who are being Jewish now. Some read like longform LinkedIn profiles, including not just comprehensively detailed accolades but info like where a seasoned professional went to college.
Others involve cozy asides, often featuring rambunctious canines: “When not writing, she is making art, listening to lo-fi on vinyl, fangirling theater, and otherwise being grateful for her life with her husband, two grown daughters, and too spoiled dogs.” Or: “When not working, she enjoys playing tennis and pickleball and spending time with family and friends, including her adorable Pomeranian, Bossi.” Another “is a proud single mom to two incredible kids, one poorly trained dog, and two cats.” Another: “She lives in Westchester, New York, with her husband, four children, and two very bossy dogs.”
Having owned and loved a bossy dog, as a reader, I get it. As a book reviewer, however, I need to make sense of the function this sort of information is serving.
An ungenerous read would be that this is an unpaid effort and the extended bio was a kind of compensation—a chance to self-promote, or self-indulge.
A more generous one: this is about emphasizing the humanity of Jews. See, Jews are just normal people who love their pets! (Something I would not dispute.)
The bios explain that these are not ordinary Jews but ones with standing in mainstream society. They bios say, in effect, it might feel like everyone in a position of cultural influence is posting Free Palestine, but not everyone-everyone! Look at all these bestselling authors, who are proudly Team Jews! The bios serve, collectively, as a point about American Jewish achievement.
Whatever the reason or reasons for the long and prominently placed bios, they have the effect of making what might otherwise have read like an essay collection read instead like a Rolodex.
***
On Being Jewish Now is not merely an attempt at capturing what it’s like to be Jewish these days. It’s raising money for a new non-profit, a 501(c)(3), the tax code for a type of American good-works endeavour, one with the hard-to-argue-with moniker, Artists Against Antisemitism. I spent a while on its website trying to figure out what Artists Against Antisemitism are offering, and the publicly available offerings seem primarily to consist of outbound links to other organizations and the recommendation that people read books such as David Baddiel’s Jews Don’t Count, and information on how to donate to or volunteer for Artists Against Antisemitism, as well as an auction with money going to Artists Against Antisemitism. Per the description on its own website, “The money we raise through donations goes to running our organization and developing projects like awareness-raising campaigns, resource guides, community arts projects, celebrations, etc.”
I spent a good long while on this website and could not figure out what the organization does-does, if that makes sense, so I emailed Owens to ask more about the organization’s initiatives. I got a response from Jill Santopolo, a founding member of Artists Against Antisemitism, pointing me to, among other things, a virtual (online) art gallery hosted by TheArtistsAgainstAntisemitism.com, and an Instagram-hosted (online) event promoting Jewish romance authors.
As best as I can understand, Artists Against Antisemitism thus far consists mainly in the realm of content creation and aggregation, with an awareness-raising component. It is not literary-award-allotting organization a la the Giller Prize, but rather the sort of charity that auctions off an acrylic painting of Ruth Bader Ginsburg or some online face time with Mayim Bialik.
Here is where a point must be made—one with uh broader applicability—about the need to look critically even at charitable endeavours whose names and missions we agree with. In some cases, this means investigating flows of funds. In this case, however, it’s about questioning whether awareness-raising initiatives have the intended impact. How has the bureaucratic apparatus established in recent years to address other forms of bigotry worked out? At a moment when other forms of DEI are coming under “scrutiny,” is extending DEI to the Jewish cause the best path forward?
I read through the handbook for bookstores looking to avoid antisemitism, and while it contains useful practical information about Jewish holidays and what to do if aggressive sorts are going to lose their minds because your bookstore dared platform A Zionist, it mostly reads like DEI but inclusive of Jews. Bookstores are asked to “Celebrate Jewish American Heritage Month in May” and then “Celebrate Jewish Book Month the month before Chanukah” and also to “Promote Jewish authors in intersectional displays (i.e. Women’s History Month).”
Along the same lines, Project Shema, an Artists Against Antisemitism-recommended—and auction-supported—“training and support organization” that was “built by progressive Jews,” operates under the assumption that bringing in educators will deprogram antisemites in a workplace or campus, and is the best use of finite resources. But it is not the role of journalists to say, well, they clearly mean well, and leave it at that.
The CJN’s opinion editor Phoebe Maltz Bovy can be reached at pbovy@thecjn.ca, not to mention @phoebebovy on Bluesky, and @bovymaltz on X. She is also on The CJN’s weekly podcast Bonjour Chai. For more opinions about Jewish culture wars, subscribe to the free Bonjour Chai newsletter on Substack.
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Blinken Lays Out US Hopes for Syria’s Political Transition
The United States on Tuesday laid out its hopes for Syria’s political transition following President Bashar al-Assad’s ouster, saying it would recognize a future Syrian government that amounts to a credible, inclusive, and non-sectarian governing body.
It is the clearest definition outlined by Washington since Syria’s opposition militias overthrew Assad in a shockingly fast takeover after 13 years of civil war. Assad and his family fled to Russia.
The Biden administration, along with governments in the region and the West, has been scrambling to find ways to engage with the Syrian rebel groups including leading rebel faction Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS), a group formerly allied with Al Qaeda and which is designated a terrorist organization by the US, European Union, Turkey, and the UN.
Blinken’s statement did not mention HTS but made repeated emphasis on the need for any future Syrian government to be inclusive and respect the rights of minorities while ensuring that Syria is not used as a base for terrorism.
“This transition process should lead to credible, inclusive, and non-sectarian governance that meets international standards of transparency and accountability, consistent with the principles of United Nations Security Council Resolution 2254,” Blinken said.
“The United States will recognize and fully support a future Syria government that results from this process,” he added.
The United States cut diplomatic ties with Syria and shut down its embassy in Damascus in 2012.
Washington in 2013 designated HTS leader Ahmed al-Sharaa, better known as Abu Mohammed al-Golani a terrorist, saying al Qaeda in Iraq had tasked him with overthrowing Assad’s rule and establishing Islamic sharia law in Syria. It said the Nusra Front, the predecessor of HTS, carried out suicide attacks that killed civilians and espoused a violent sectarian vision.
The transition process and the new Syrian government should also facilitate the flow of humanitarian assistance to all in need, and ensure that any chemical or biological weapons stockpiles are safely destroyed, Blinken added.
US President Joe Biden and his top aides described the moment as a historic opportunity for the Syrian people who have for decades lived under the oppressive rule of Assad but also warned the country faced a period of risk and uncertainty.
Meanwhile, a top White House official said on Tuesday that US troops will be staying in Syria after the fall of Assad as part of a counter-terrorism mission focused on destroying Islamic State terrorists.
“Those troops are there for a very specific and important reason, not as some sort of bargaining chip,” US Deputy National Security Advisor Jon Finer said in an interview at the Reuters NEXT conference in New York.
US troops “have been there now for the better part of a decade or more to fight ISIS … we are still committed to that mission.”
Asked directly whether US troops are staying, Finer said, “Yes.”
Separately, State Department spokesperson Matthew Miller said on Tuesday that the US has asked HTS to help locate and free missing American journalist Austin Tice as it liberates the country’s prisons in the aftermath of Assad’s overthrow.
Washington is telling all parties in Syria that Tice, who was abducted in Syria in 2012, is a top US priority, Miller told a press briefing.
“In all of our communications with parties that we know talk to HTS, we have sent very clearly the message that as they move through Syria liberating prisons, that our top priority is the return of Austin Tice,” he said.
“We want anyone who’s operating on the ground in Syria to be on the lookout for him, and if they do find him, to return to him to us safely as soon as possible.”
The post Blinken Lays Out US Hopes for Syria’s Political Transition first appeared on Algemeiner.com.