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Alarmed by their country’s political direction, more Israelis are seeking to move abroad
TEL AVIV (JTA) — When Daniel Schleider and his wife, Lior, leave Israel next month, it will be for good — and with a heavy heart.
“I have no doubt I will have tears in my eyes the whole flight.” said Schleider, who was born in Mexico and lived in Israel for a time as a child before returning on his own at 18. Describing himself as “deeply Zionist,” he served in a combat unit in the Israeli army, married an Israeli woman and built a career in an Israeli company.
Yet as Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu returned to power, assembled a coalition that includes far-right parties and started pushing changes that would erode hallmarks of Israeli democracy, Schleider found himself booking plane tickets and locating an apartment in Barcelona. Spain’s language and low cost of living made the city a good fit, he said, but the real attraction was living in a place where he wouldn’t constantly have to face down the ways that Israel is changing.
Israel’s strength over its 75 years, Schleider said, is “the economy we built by selling our brains.… And yet, in less than half a year, we’ve managed to destroy all that.”
Schleider has been joining the sweeping protests that have taken root across the country in response to the new right-wing government and its effort to strip the Israeli judiciary of much of its power and independence. But while he considered recommitting to his country and fighting the changes rather than fleeing over them, he also accepts the government’s argument that most Israelis voted for something he doesn’t believe in.
Daniel Schleider and his wife Lior are leaving Israel for Barcelona because of the political instability in their country. (Courtesy Schleider)
“I have a lot of internal conflict,” he said about the protests. “Who am I to fight against what the majority has accepted?”
Schleider is far from alone in seeking to leave Israel this year. While Israelis have always moved abroad for various reasons, including business opportunities or to gain experience in particular fields, the pace of planned departures appears to be picking up. No longer considered a form of social betrayal, emigration — known in Hebrew as yerida, meaning descent — is on the table for a wide swath of Israelis right now.
Many of the people weighing emigration were already thinking about it but were catalyzed by the new government, according to accounts from dozens of people in various stages of emigration and of organizations that seek to aid them.
“I’ve already been on the fence for a few years — not in terms of leaving Israel but in terms of relocating for something new,” said Schleider.
“But in the past year, with all the craziness and everything, I realized where the country was going. And after the recent elections, my wife — who had been unconvinced — was the one who took the step and said now she understood where the public is going and what life is going to be like in the country. You could call it the straw that broke the camel’s back,” he said.
“And then when the whole issue of the [judicial] revolution started, we just decided not to wait and to do it immediately.”
Ocean Relocation, which assists people with both immigration to and emigration from Israel, has received more than 100 inquiries a day from people looking to leave since Justice Minister Yariv Levin first presented his proposal for judicial reform back in January. That’s four times the rate of inquiries the organization received last year, according to senior manager Shay Obazanek.
“Never in history has there been this level of demand,” Obazanek said, citing the company’s 80 years’ experience as the “barometer” of movement in and out the country.
Shlomit Drenger, who leads Ocean Relocation’s business development, said those looking to leave come from all walks of life. They include families pushed to leave by the political situation; those investing in real estate abroad as a future shelter, if needed; and Israelis who can work remotely and are worried about the country’s upheaval. Economics are also a concern: With foreign investors issuing dire warnings about Israel’s economy if the judicial reforms go through, companies wary to invest in the country and the shekel already weakening, it could grow more expensive to leave in the future.
The most common destination for the new departures, Drenger said, is Europe, representing representing 70% of moves, compared to 40% in the recent past. Europe’s draws include its convenient time zones, quality-of-life indices, and chiefly, the relative ease in recent years of obtaining foreign passports in countries such as Portugal, Poland and even Morocco. Many Israelis have roots in those countries and are or have been entitled to citizenship today because their family members were forced to leave under duress during the Holocaust or the Spanish Inquisition.
Israelis protesting against the government’s controversial judicial reform bill block the main road leading to the departures area of Ben Gurion Airport near Tel Aviv on March 9, 2023. (Ahmad Gharabli/AFP via Getty Images)
On the other hand, Drenger said, emigration to the United States, where the vast majority of the 1 million Israeli citizens abroad live, has declined significantly. The United States is known for its tough immigration laws and high cost of living in areas with large Israeli and Jewish communities, and even people who have no rights to a foreign passport have an easier time obtaining residency rights in Europe than the United States.
Some Israelis aren’t picking anywhere in particular before leaving. Ofer Stern, 40, quit his job as a tech developer, left Israel and is now traveling around the world before deciding where to settle.
“We’re living in a democracy and that democracy is dependent on demography and I can’t fight it,” he said, alluding to the fact that Orthodox Jews, who tend to be right wing, are the fastest-growing segment of the Israeli population. “The country that I love and that I’ve always loved will not be here in 10 years. Instead, it will be a country that is suited to other people, but not for me.”
While others have already started their emigration process, American-born Marni Mandell, a mother of two living in Tel Aviv, is still on the fence. Her greatest fear is that judicial reforms could open the door to significant changes in civil rights protections — and in so doing break her contract with the country she chose.
“If this so-called ‘reform’ is enacted, which is really tantamount to a coup, it’s hard to imagine that I want my children to grow up to fight in an army whose particularism outweighs the basic human rights that are so fundamental to my values,” Mandell said.
Most people who look into emigrating for political reasons do not end up doing so. In the weeks leading up to the United States’ 2020 presidential election, inquiries to law firms specializing in helping Americans move abroad saw a sharp uptick in inquiries — many of them from Jews fearful about a second Trump administration after then-President Donald Trump declined to unequivocally condemn white supremacists. When President Joe Biden was elected, they largely called off the alarm.
The Trump scenario is not analogous with the Israeli one for several reasons, starting with the fact that the Israelis are responding to an elected government’s policy decisions, not just the prospect of an election result. What’s more, U.S. law contains safeguards designed to prevent any single party or leader from gaining absolute power. Israel has fewer of those safeguards, and many of those appear threatened if the government’s proposals go through.
Casandra Larenas had long courted the idea of moving overseas. “As a childfree person, Israel doesn’t have much to offer and is a really expensive country. I’ve traveled around so I know the quality of life I can reach abroad,” she said. But she said she had always batted away the idea: “I’m still Jewish and my family are still here.”
Clockwise from upper left: Benjamin-Michael Aronov, Casandra Larenas and Ofer Stern are all leaving Israel because of political unrest there. (All photos courtesy)
That all changed with the judicial overhaul, she said. While not against the idea of a reform per se, Laranes is firmly opposed to the way it is being carried out, saying it totally disregards the millions of people on the other side. Chilean-born, Laranes grew up under Augusto Pinochet’s military dictatorship.
“I still remember [it] and I don’t want something like that again,” said Larenas, who has purchased a plane ticket for later this spring and plans to take up residency abroad — though she said she would maintain her citizenship and hoped to return one day.
The departure of liberal and moderate Israelis could have implications on Israel’s political future. Israel does not permit its citizens to vote absentee, meaning that anyone who leaves the country must incur costly, potentially frequent travel to participate in elections — or cede political input altogether.
Benjamin-Michael Aronov, who grew up with Russian parents in the United States, said he was taken aback by how frequently Israelis express shock that he moved to Israel in the first place. “The No. 1 question I get from Israelis is, ‘Why would you move here from the U.S.? We’re all trying to get out of here. There’s no future here.’”
He said he had come to realize that they were right.
“I thought the warnings were something that would truly impact our children or grandchildren but that our lifetime would be spent in an Israeli high-tech, secular golden era. But I’m realizing the longevity of Tel Aviv’s bubble of beaches and parties and crazy-smart, secular people changing the world with technology is maybe even more a fantasy now than when Herzl dreamt it,” Aronov said. “I found my perfect home, a Jewish home, sadly being undone by Jews.”
Not everyone choosing to jump ship is ideologically aligned with the protest movement. Amir Cohen, who asked to use a pseudonym because he has not informed his employers of his plans yet, is a computer science lecturer at Ariel University in the West Bank who voted in the last election for the Otzma Yehudit party chaired by far-right provocateur Itamar Ben-Gvir. Cohen was willing to put aside his ideological differences with the hared Orthodox parties if it meant achieving political stability — but was soon disillusioned.
“None of it is working. And now we’re on our way to civil war, it’s that simple. I figured, ‘I don’t need this nonsense, there are plenty of places in the world for me to go,’” he said.
Thousands of Israeli protesters rally against the Israeli goverment’s judicial overhaul bills in Tel Aviv, March 4, 2023. (Gili Yaari Flash90)
Cohen stuck with the country after one of his brothers was killed in the 2014 Gaza War. Now, he said, his other brothers have recently followed his lead and applied for Hungarian passports in an effort to find a way to move abroad permanently.
“I’m not alone,” he said. “Most of my friends and family feel the same way.”
Others still, like Omer Mizrahi, view themselves as apolitical. A contractor from Jerusalem, Mizrahi, 27, headed to San Diego, California, a month ago as a result of the reform. Mizrahi, who eschewed casting a vote in the last election, expressed a less common impetus for leaving: actual fear for his life. Mizrahi described sitting in traffic jams in Jerusalem and realizing that if a terror attack were to unfold — “and let’s be honest, there are at least one or two every week” — he wouldn’t be able to escape in time because he was caught in a gridlock. “Our politicians can’t do anything about it because they’re too embroiled in a war of egos.”
Now 7,500 miles away, Mizrahi says he feels like he’s finally living life. “I sit in traffic now and I’m happy as a clam. Everything’s calm.”
Back in Israel, Schleider is making his final preparations for leaving, advertising his Tesla for sale on Facebook this week. He remains hopeful that the massive anti-government protests will make a difference. In the meantime, though, his one-way ticket is scheduled for April 14.
“I dream of coming back, but I don’t know that it will ever happen,” he said. “We made a decision that was self-serving, but that doesn’t mean we’re any less Zionist.”
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The post Alarmed by their country’s political direction, more Israelis are seeking to move abroad appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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A Jewish audience applauded when this speaker called for Muslims to leave America. Here’s a better response.
A video from the Jewish American Summit in Los Angeles shows a speaker using wildly inflammatory, dehumanizing language to describe Muslims — as the Jewish American audience members stay silent, or applaud.
“I don’t want Muslims in America,” the activist Mosab Hassan Yousef said at the sold-out event last Sunday. “Get the f— out of the United States. Go back to the s—holes where you came from and reform your own countries.” Yousef, the son of a Hamas co-founder, converted from Islam to Christianity and worked for the Israelis for 10 years.
His words were horrifying. But the cheers arising from some in the room were even more jarring, as was the refusal of the event’s organizers and most of its sponsors and speakers to condemn Yousef’s hate speech.
As leaders of NewGround, an organization dedicated to building healthy relations between American Muslims and Jews, we know that the grief of Oct. 7, the days before it, and every day since in Gaza and elsewhere, is too much to bear. But we also know that when we choose to amplify or excuse rhetoric that dehumanizes our neighbors, we don’t just jeopardize their safety, we jeopardize our own.
We fuel a cycle of hatred that makes everyone less safe — including our loved ones. The impact isn’t necessarily direct, and it isn’t immediate. But it sets the stage for escalating rancor which can easily slip into violence.
Both our traditions teach that life is sacred. The Quran (5:32) and the Mishnah (Sanhedrin 4:5) concur: To take a life — or destroy the dignity of a human being — is to destroy all of humanity; to uphold that dignity is to save all of humanity.
When we sit silently or applaud rhetoric that erases the humanity of the “other,” we are participating in a dangerous, destructive feedback loop: You hurt me, so I must hurt you to keep myself safe. Circulating exaggerations, expelling our neighbors, silencing and deporting our political opponents in the pursuit of security will only leave us all increasingly isolated, vulnerable, and broken.
That is why relationships across communities matter, especially when they are difficult. Meeting one another, challenging false claims, letting go of our rigid certainty, holding our own leaders accountable and refusing to let fear define entire groups are not symbolic gestures. They are active practices to keep isolation from hardening into hostility.
At the same time, we need to confront those who deliberately exploit fear and misinformation to pull communities further apart. If we want others to stand up for us, we have to stand up for them, especially when hateful rhetoric comes from within our own circles.
That didn’t happen when Yousef made his vile remarks at the Jewish American Summit. As Louis Keene reported in the Forward, there were no boos, only applause. Afterwards, only two co-sponsoring organizations — the Anti-Defamation League and the Jewish Federation Los Angeles — criticized his remarks.
But our communities need even more than just condemnations of hate speech. We need a substantial, structural response. We need teshuvah — a process of self-reflection and return to integrity in which many Jews engage as Rosh Hashanah approaches.
This is not a theoretical exercise, nor a process limited to Jews. It is a human endeavor. The Quran echoes similar teachings — “Indeed, God does not change the condition of a people until they change what is within themselves.” (Quran 13:11)
At NewGround, we see this work happening on the ground every day. The people in our programs challenge one another. They engage in a rigorous, often agonizing process of naming their truths, navigating anti-Palestinian racism and antisemitism, and honoring the humanity of the person sitting across from them. They communicate through their disagreements — especially when it is difficult.
The recent shooting at the Islamic Center of San Diego took place the day after our current fellows’ Israel Palestine intensive. Our fellows rallied around our Muslim community members, as they had around the Jewish fellows during our first intensive when news of the Bondi Beach massacre hit. Several of our current fellows and alumni mobilized networks in solidarity gatherings at Friday congregational prayers at the Islamic Center of Southern California and Masjid al-Thoir in Koreatown. Fellows traveled to vigils and to the mosque in San Diego to show support. After the vandalism of a mural this summer at the Pasadena Jewish Temple Center, NewGround fellows showed up to stand in solidarity, once again.
Real teshuvah requires more than just responding to harm. It requires taking steps to prevent harm from occurring again. It means asking ourselves: Why do we uplift speakers who stoke hatred? What safeguards can we implement to ensure we are not providing a platform for division? In pursuit of our own safety, are we inadvertently endangering other communities, and can we change our approach to foster mutual care? If we are not exceptionally thoughtful, we will undermine the shared society we seek to build.
The two of us have spent 20 years convening Muslims and Jews who can do the deep, courageous work of truth-telling and listening. We know that real change only happens when we don’t shy away from challenging perspectives, but instead dive deeper into them.
This work requires the courage to stand in one’s truth while respecting and listening to those who may hold opposing viewpoints. It requires the grace to acknowledge the anger and grief we all carry, and the discipline to channel that energy into building — rather than destroying.
We invite our community leaders, especially those who organize and sponsor meetings like the American Jewish Summit, to join us in this work. Stop choosing animosity. Choose instead to interrupt it. The safety of our children and grandchildren depends on whether we continue to build higher walls, or commit to building resilient bridges.
The post A Jewish audience applauded when this speaker called for Muslims to leave America. Here’s a better response. appeared first on The Forward.
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‘You would have thought Jews were being targeted, but no, Mom — It was America.’
Dear Mom,
The anniversary of 9/11 falls on Rosh Hashanah this year. It’s hard to believe it’s been 25 years since you’ve been gone when you are constantly on my mind. Even though you’re buried next to Dad in Florida, I don’t need to visit your grave on the anniversary of your death; I talk to you almost daily. We had a special relationship, you and I, one that didn’t include Dad or little sister Ellen. We protected one another and shared potato pierogies and corned beef sandwiches even until the very end.
Mom, I cannot understand what the hell happened that day. In a way, I’m glad you weren’t alert and had no clue because you would have freaked out. I know you would have thought Jews were being targeted, but no, Mom. It was America.
I saw the planes go into the buildings and watched the towers come down. We ran when they told us to get out. You, thankfully, were at Village Nursing Home. I couldn’t imagine wheeling you up Greenwich Street fast enough to get away from that ball of dust.
When I returned the next day, our building was in lockdown. You wouldn’t have been able to go home. And where would I have put you?
I didn’t want you to be moved into hospice; I fought tooth and nail to keep you at Village Nursing. The staff knew you and had become comfortable with our family’s deafness and how to communicate with us. I wished I could take care of you myself. I knew what you liked, what you would eat, how to bathe you. But you couldn’t eat anymore, and I could barely lift you.
Every day after volunteering a few hours at Ground Zero, I came to see you. I hoped you would open your eyes or talk to me, but you lay motionless. Even when I lay beside you, you didn’t respond. You could feel me. I knew that. I watched you wither away day after day.
And now it’s Rosh Hashanah. I remember how you placed the scarf on your head, lit the candles and in silence, said your prayers. You always told me Rosh Hashanah was the time to forgive and not carry baggage into the New Year. Easier said than done, right, Mom?
I also remember how you would break your fast with a Hershey’s Kiss or peanut M&M’s. You’d hide them in your pocket and, when you thought no one was looking, pop one into your mouth.
On Oct. 6, I came to see you after Ground Zero. That night, I lay beside you and put my hand on your arm. You pushed it away.
I thought I was dreaming. I tried again. With all the strength you could muster, you moved my hand away.
I knew you were telling me to go. It was time to say goodbye.
I held you in an embrace and left.
Not long after I returned to my hotel, the nursing home called. You had passed.
Today, you would be wowed by all the changes and development around the old Twin Towers. I know you would still want to head over to our favorite pierogi place on Second Ave. So much has changed, but it’s still there.
The post ‘You would have thought Jews were being targeted, but no, Mom — It was America.’ appeared first on The Forward.
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How Warsaw became the center of Yiddish culture
אױפֿן שװעל פֿונעם צװאַנציקסטן יאָרהונדערט האָט װאַרשע געהאַט די גרעסטע צאָל ייִדישע תּושבֿים אין אײראָפּע, בערך אַ פֿערטל מיליאָן נפֿשות. אָבער די דאָזיקע באַפֿעלקערונג איז באַשטאַנען פֿון דרײַ פֿאַרשײדענע סאָציאַלע און קולטורעלע גרופּעס: אַסימילירטע פּױלישע ייִדן, חסידים און ליטװאַקעס. צװישן זיך האָבן זײ גערעדט ייִדיש, פּױליש, רוסיש און אַ ביסל דײַטש.
יאָאַנאַ נאַלעװאַיקאָ־קוליקאָװ (היסטאָרישער אינסטיטוט בײַ דער פּױלישער װיסנשאַפֿט־אַקאַדעמיע) באַװײַזט אין איר בוך „דאָס רעדן אין אונדזער אייגענעם נאָמען: ייִדישע פּרעסע און דאָס שאַפֿן פֿון דער ייִדישער נאַציאָנאַלער אידענטיטעט אינעם לאַנגן נײַנצנטן יאָרהונדערט“, אַז דװקא די טעגלעכע ייִדישע פּרעסע, װאָס איז אַנטשטאַנען אין די ערשטע צענדליק יאָר פֿונעם צװאַנציקסטן יאָרהונדערט, האָט געמאַכט ייִדיש פֿאַר דער כּלל־שפּראַך פֿון עפֿנטלעכע דיסקוסיעס אין דער ייִדישער סבֿיבֿה.
זי רופֿט דאָס אַ „סאָציאַלע רעװאָלוציע“ פֿאַר ייִדן אין דער רוסישער אימפּעריע בכּלל און אין פּױלן, װאָס איז דעמאָלט געװען אַ טײל פֿון דער אימפּעריע, בפֿרט. אַ דאַנק די צײַטונגען „האָבן די מאַסן גענומען לײענען, און זײ האָבן אָנגעהױבן צו לײענען אין זײער אײגענער שפּראַך“.
די ייִדישע פּרעסע איז געװאָרן אַ קולטורעלער שטח, װוּ די אינטעליגענציע האָט זיך געטראָפֿן מיט די מאַסן. די פּרעסע האָט אױך געשאַפֿן דעם עקאָנאָמישן יסוד פֿאַר דער ייִדישער ליטעראַטור און דערלאָזט ייִדישע ליטעראַטן ציִען פּרנסה פֿון זײערע װערק. אָבער די ייִדישע פּרעסע איז ניט געװען סתּם אַ געשעפֿט. אַלע צײַטונגען האָבן זיך אַקטיװ באַטײליקט אין פּאָליטיק.
ערבֿ דער ערשטער װעלט־מלחמה האָט דער טיראַזש פֿון „הײַנט“, דער גרעסטער װאַרשעװער ייִדישער טאָגצײַטונג, דערגרײכט 100,000 עקזעמפּלאַרן, גלײַך מיט דער גרעסטער פּױלישער מאַסן־צײַטונג.
צװישן די, װאָס האָבן געשריבן פֿאַר „הײַנט“, זײַנען געװען די באַרימטסטע ייִדישע שרײַבער: יצחק לײבוש פּרץ, הערש דוד נאָמבערג, הילל צײטלין, דוד פֿרישמאַן, דער קריטיקער בעל־מחשבֿות און אַנדערע.
„הײַנט“ האָט געדרוקט שלום עליכמס ראָמאַנען „מנחם מענדלס בריװ“ און „דער בלוטיקער שפּאַס“, װי אױך שלום אַשעס „קידוש־השם“ און „פּעטערבורג“.
די רוסישע מאַכט האָט דעמאָלט דערשטיקט די פּױלישע שפּראַך און קולטור. דאָס האָט געשאַפֿן אַ שאַרפֿע פּאָליטישע פּראָבלעם פֿאַר ייִדן. אײניקע האָבן געשטיצט פּאָליאַקן אין זײער קאַמף פֿאַר אומאָפּהענגיקײט, אײניקע זײַנען געװען אױפֿן רוסישן צד, אָבער דאָס רובֿ ייִדן האָבן זיך געהאַלטן בײַ דער זײַט אינעם דאָזיקן שטרײַט פֿון צװײ סלאַװישע פֿעלקער.
נאַלעװאַיקאָ־קוליקאָװ דערמאָנט דעם לײענער אָן אַ װיכטיקן היסטאָרישן פֿאַקט: דאָס רובֿ צײַטונג־מענטשן אין װאַרשע זײַנען געװען ליטװאַקעס, װאָס זײַנען געקומען פֿון שטעט און שטעטלעך פֿון דער הײַנטיקער ליטע און בעלאַרוס. כאָטש מען דאַרף האָבן אין זינען, אַז אַ היפּשע צאָל װאַרשעװער ייִדן האָבן געהאַלטן פֿאַר „ליטװאַקעס“ אַלע ייִדן, װאָס האָבן גערעדט אױף ייִדיש אַנדערש פֿון זײ.
דװקא די ליטװאַקעס האָבן אַרײַנגעבראַכט קײן װאַרשע דעם באַגריף פֿונעם ייִדישן פֿאָלק װי אַ פּאָליטישע נאַציע. די מיגראַציע פֿון ליטװאַקעס קײן װאַרשע האָט גורם געװען אַ פֿײַנטשאַפֿט סײַ מצד אַסימילירטע פּױלישע ייִדן, װאָס האָבן זיך געהאַלטן פֿאַר „פּאָליאַקן פֿון משה רבינוס אמונה“, און סײַ מצד פּױלישע נאַציאָנאַליסטן.
סײַ די, סײַ יענע האָבן געהאַלטן די ליטװאַקעס פֿאַר „שליחים פֿון סאַנקט־פּעטערבורג“ — דאָס הײסט, שטיצער פֿון דער רוסיפֿיקאַציע־פּאָליטיק פֿון פּױלן. די דאָזיקע דעה איז ביזן הײַנטיקן טאָג פֿאַרבליבן בײַ אײניקע פּױלישע היסטאָריקער, באַמערקט נאַלעװאַיקאָ־קוליקאָװ.
זי שאַצט אָפּ דעם ליטװאַקישן בײַטראָג אינעם װאַרשעװער ייִדישן לעבן מער פּאָזיטיװ. זי מאָלט אַ לעבעדיק און רײַך בילד פֿון ייִדישער װאַרשע אין די לעצטע צענדליק יאָר פֿאַר דער ערשטער װעלט־מלחמה. דאָס דאָזיקע בילד שטעלט זיך צונױף פֿון שטיקלעך מיטצײַטלערישע אַרטיקלען און פֿון שפּעטערע זכרונות אױף ייִדיש, העברעיִש, פּױליש און רוסיש.
אױפֿן סמך פֿון אַרכיװאַלע דאָקומענטן אַנטפּלעקט נאַלעװאַיִקאָ־קוליקאָװ דעם פֿאַרפּלאָנטערטן ביוראָקראַטישן פּראָצעס פֿון קריגן פּובליקאַציע־דערלױבענישן בײַ די הױכע פֿענצטער פֿון דער רוסישער אַדמיניסטראַציע.
נאָך דער רעװאָלוציע פֿון 1905 איז דער פּאָליטישער קלימאַט אין דער רוסישער אימפּעריע געװאָרן מילדער, און אין 1906 זײַנען דערשינען פֿינעף נײַע צײַטונגען.
צװישן זײ איז געװען דאָס „ייִדישעס טאַגעבלאַט“. דער רעדאַקטאָר איז געװען שמואל־יעקב יאַצקאַן (1874־1936), אַ געוועזענער ישיבֿה־בחור װאָס האָט אָנגעהױבן זײַן זשורנאַליסטישע קאַריערע אין דער העברעיִשער פּרעסע. מען האָט געזאָגט אַז ער האָט גערעדט זיבן שפּראַכן, אַלע מיטן ליטװאַקישן אַקצענט.
יאַצקאַן איז געװאָרן דער ערשטער ייִדישער צײַטונגס־מענטש, װאָס האָט זיך געװענדט צו די ייִדישע מאַסן אױף זײער אײגענעם לשון. אין 1908 האָט ער אין אײנעם מיט אַנדערע מיטאַרבעטער פֿון „ייִדישעס טאַגעבלאַט“ געשאַפֿן „הײַנט“. דאָס איז געװען די ערשטע טאָגצײַטונג אױף ייִדיש אינעם מאָדערנעם פֿאָרמאַט מיט ספּעציעלע אָפּטײלן פֿאַר נײַעס, רעפּאָרטאַזשן, עדיטאָריאַלן, קאָמענטאַרן, אַנאָנסן און רעקלאַמע.
אָבער דער סאַמע פּאָפּולערער זשאַנער איז געװען דער „געשפּאַנטער“ ראָמאַן אין המשכים, װי למשל „אין נעץ פֿון זינד“. דער דאָזיקער ראָמאַן האָט שטאַרק געהעכערט דעם טיראַזש אָבער אַרױסגערופֿן שאַרפֿע קריטיק מצד ייִדישע אינטעליגענטן. זײ האָבן באַשולדיקט יאַצקאַן אין פֿאַרדאַרבן דעם געשמאַק פֿונעם ייִדישן מאַסן־לײענער.
אין אַלגעמײן איז נאַלעװײַקאָ־קוליקאָװס אָפּשאַצונג פֿון דער ראָלע פֿון „הײַנט“ פּאָזיטיװ: „עס איז מסתּמא ניט קײן גוזמא צו זאָגן, אַז אַ דאַנק ׳הײַנט׳ האָבן זיך ייִדישע לײענער פּלוצעם אױפֿגעװעקט אינעם צװאַנציקסטן יאָרהונדערט און אַנטדעקט, אַז זײ באַלאַנגען צו דער גרױסער װעלט און ניט בלױז צו זײער שטעטל אָדער קװאַרטאַל“.
אין גיכן האָט „הײַנט“ באַקומען אַ שטאַרקן קאָנקורענט. אין 1910 האָט צבֿי פּרילוצקי געשאַפֿן דעם „מאָמענט“. דאָס איז געװען אַ מער „בירגערלעכע“ צײַטונג, װאָס האָט אױסגעמיטן דעם סענסאַציאָנעלן סטיל און ניט געדרוקט קײן „שונד“־ראָמאַנען.
ניט אַלע ייִדישע צײַטונגען האָבן איבערגעלעבט די שװערע מלחמה־יאָרן צװישן 1914 און 1918. אין 1915 איז װאַרשע געפֿאַלן אונטער דער דײַטשישער אָקופּאַציע און ייִדן האָבן געמוזט זיך צופּאַסן צו די נײַע בעלי־בתּים. אָבער „הײַנט“ און „דער מאָמענט“ זײַנען פֿאַרבליבן די װיכטיקסטע טאָג־צוטײַנגען ביז די סאַמע לעצטע טעג פֿון דער פּױלישער רעפּובליק. זײערע לעצטע נומערן זײַנען אַרױס װען היטלערס חיילות זײַנען אַרײַן אין װאַרשע, אין די לעצטע טעג פֿון סעפּטעמבער 1939.
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