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Can a Holocaust documentary have a happy ending? Should it?

(JTA) — Holocaust documentaries tend to sit along a scale from horrific to heartwarming. For every “Night Will Fall,” the rediscovered British film showing gruesome scenes from newly liberated Nazi concentration camps, there is a family-friendly film about a survivor, likeThe Number on Great-Grandpa’s Arm.”

Some critics distrust Holocaust documentaries that have “happy” endings, or that focus on the second chance given to survivors, as if they betray the fate of the many more millions of Jews who died rather than survived. Raye Farr, the former director of the Steven Spielberg Film and Video Archive of the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, once criticized Holocaust documentaries’ “increasing inclination to go for sentimentality.” 

“How Saba Kept Singing,”a documentary airing on PBS on Tuesday in honor of Yom Hashoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day, is firmly on the side of uplift. It’s about Cantor David Wisnia, whose unlikely survival tale was told in a memorable New York Times article in 2019. The film’s redemptive message is clear from its first line — “I’m a lover of life,” says Wisnia — to one of its last: “You are really the proof that Hitler did not win,” he tells his grandson.

Wisnia was a Polish Jew who survived Auschwitz by literally singing for his captors. Defying the perverse and inexplicable odds of the Final Solution, the former cantorial prodigy managed to live close to three years at the death camp and slave labor complex.

Perhaps as remarkable was his relationship with a fellow inmate, Helen “Tzippi” Spitzer, a similarly “privileged” prisoner who managed to stay in the Nazis’ good graces thanks to her skills as a graphic artist. Her assignments took her to places beyond the women’s barracks, where she met Wisnia, eight years her junior. Soon the two were arranging trysts in a loft where prisoners’ uniforms were stored. Fellow prisoners kept a helpful watch for guards. 

Their death camp romance ended on the eve of liberation, when the Germans began emptying the camps and forced the prisoners on a series of death marches. Although David and Tzippi made plans to meet in Warsaw, life had other ideas. Wisnia eventually made it to America after the war, where he became a cantor at synagogues in Levittown, Pennsylvania, and Trenton, New Jersey. As for Tzippi, Wisnia wasn’t sure if she survived the war — and when he discovered the truth it set in motion the next remarkable chapter in their story. 

The documentary recalls the horrors of the Holocaust — David speaks movingly about the murders of his parents and brothers in the Warsaw Ghetto, and having to stack bodies on a work detail at Auschwitz — but maintains a cautious distance. Writer and director Sara Taksler keeps the archive footage to a minimum, and when Wisnia relates his story of survival — with the help of Avi Wisnia, a singer-songwriter who accompanies his grandfather on a trip to Poland — it is usually over scenes of the camp as it looks today or black and white animation. 

Still, “How Saba Kept Singing” is hardly saccharine. Grandfather and grandson are clear-eyed chroniclers of stories David told often (in 2015, he published a memoir, “One Voice, Two Lives: From Auschwitz Prisoner to 101st Airborne Trooper”). And David never takes his good luck for granted — the film is organized around his suspicion that there is a missing piece to his story of survival and that, as Avi says, “He could not have done it alone.” 

About his time with Tzippi, David is both honest and discreet. “It was physical,” he admits. “She taught me everything. I knew nothing. I was a kid.” 

Avi recounts the family’s shock when they first learned of their patriarch’s relationship with another prisoner at Auschwitz. “Even in the hell of a concentration camp you can still find some kind of a human connection,” says Avi. 

Wisnia arrived in the United States in 1946 and lived with an aunt in the Bronx. He met his wife – the appropriately named Hope — and got work as an encyclopedia salesman and, for over 50 years, as a cantor. The couple would go on to have two sons, two daughters and six grandchildren.

As for Tzippi — it’s not giving away too much to say that she also survived the war and got married, to a bioengineering professor who eventually taught at New York University. Per the Times, the couple “devoted years of their lives to humanitarian causes.” She and David would meet again, in a reunion described in that 2019 New York Times story and heard in the documentary on audiotape. Suffice to say that David got an answer to the mystery that long nagged him: “How come I stayed in Auschwitz two and half years and never moved? How the hell can you explain it?”

The film is also saved from sentimentality by the knowledge that David is among the last living witnesses to the Holocaust, which he and Avi sadly acknowledge when discussing whether David would return to Auschwitz for the 75th anniversary of its liberation in 2020. Cantor Wisnia died June 15, 2021, at the age of 94; Tzippi died in 2018 at age 100. 

Rabbi Isaac Nissenbaum, another victim of the Warsaw Ghetto, purportedly gave permission for the Nazis’ prey — and perhaps future filmmakers — to see their survival as a sanctification of life, not an occasion for guilt. “Today when the enemy demands the body, it is the Jew’s obligation to defend himself, to preserve his life,” he is reported to have said. 

Avi Wisnia picks up this theme during a performance with his saba, Hebrew for grandfather.

“I honor the past, and we sing for the future,” he tells the audience. “The greatest act of defiance is to live.”


The post Can a Holocaust documentary have a happy ending? Should it? appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.

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The New Normal for Jewish Students: Security Checks and Police Presence

Cornwall House at King’s College London. Photo: C. G. P. Grey.

In February 2026, a university screening at King’s College London required an astonishing level of security: 30 police officers and 15 professional security personnel for 20 students and five members of the university’s staff.

The reason? A 47-minute film of raw footage from the October 7, 2023, Hamas attack was screened, showing what actually happened that day.

An earlier attempt by the local student Israel Society to hold the screening had been abandoned entirely because the university didn’t grant permission on security grounds.

Outside of the event, protesters from the university’s Students for Justice in Palestine chapter chanted “Get the Zios off campus.”

Jewish students must operate behind visible layers of protection simply to gather, pray, eat, or learn together. Activities that were once routine campus activities now demand the same level of protection more commonly associated with high-profile political events, raising serious questions about what the campus “normal” has become.

As someone who has experienced this situation firsthand, the heavy use of security is not symbolic. It reflects real, credible threats of disruption and intimidation that have already forced events to be cancelled.

Jewish students now require visible police protection for activities that every other group takes for granted — a film screening, a cultural night, a Shabbat dinner. This is not discomfort; it is unequal access to campus life. The activism that claims to defend the vulnerable has instead made Jewish students the ones who need defending.

The reason stories like these keep happening is clear and uncomfortable: Anti-Zionism has increasingly become the dominant expression of discrimination and bigotry against Jews on campus. What commonly presents itself as “political criticism of Israel” quickly turns into intimidation, harassment, and exclusion regardless of any individual Zionist-identified individual’s views.

Universities that continue to outsource safety to police cordons while wringing their hands about “tensions” are simply managing symptoms. They are not addressing the root cause.

Chants that single out “Zios,” accusations of collective guilt, and the assumption that any Jewish event is somehow provocative have turned Jewish identity into a liability. This is not abstract theory. Jewish students report being chased, threatened, verbally abused, and physically targeted simply for being visibly Jewish or Israeli. Many now hide Stars of David, stop speaking Hebrew in public, or avoid Jewish spaces altogether to stay safe.

And what happened at my school is happening to students all over the UK.  The Union of Jewish Students’ March 2026 national polling of 1,000 students found that nearly a quarter had witnessed behavior specifically targeting Jewish students for their religion or ethnicity. The poll also found that 77% of those who see Israel-Palestine protests regularly witnessed slogans or chants directly justifying the October 7 attack.

The pattern is consistent: hostility that begins with Israel is commonly expressed through hostility toward the nearest Jews who don’t actively identify as anti-Zionist, and those who attempt to humanise the Jews of Israel. The political rhetoric saying “it’s only about Israel” is just a disguise.

This situation is bad for Jewish students, but it is also corrosive for universities themselves. When institutions must essentially militarize everyday student activity to keep one minority safe, they have already failed their basic duty to provide an equal learning environment.

Free speech is not the issue here. Protest and legitimate criticism of any government must be protected. However, what should not be protected is the right to harass, intimidate, or exclude Jewish students under the guise of activism. Distinguishing between the two is a key element of the widely accepted IHRA Working Definition of Antisemitism.

Universities know what needs to be done. Our leaders have been telling them for years. First, enforce existing codes of conduct without hesitation whenever harassment or intimidation occurs, without selective blindness or “context” excuses that only apply to Jews.

Second, apply free speech rules equally. Disruption that prevents Jewish students from accessing events or education is not protected speech; it is a violation of rights.

Third, publicly rebuke the notion that pro-Israel events are inherently provocative. A Shabbat dinner is not a political statement. A screening of actual footage is not a provocation.

These activists will wrongly argue that enforcing such policies amounts to censorship. But in Western civilization, nobody is free to do whatever they want, regardless of their effect on others. They are free to voice their opposition, but not to impose it on others.

Curtailing this behavior is the minimum requirement for any university campus and a healthy community.

A “fortified” campus is not a solution — it is an admission of failure. Until universities confront the reality that anti-Zionism produces the same result as antisemitism, Jewish students will continue to need physical protection to live normal student lives.

The question is no longer whether this climate exists; it’s whether university leadership — including at King’s College — has the courage to act on it.

Alena Rakitina is a student of the University of Exeter and a CAMERA on Campus 2025-2026 Fellow. Opinions expressed are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of CAMERA.

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Rahm Emanuel’s Call to Treat Israel ‘Like Every Other Ally’ Gets History Wrong

"U.S. Ambassador to Japan Rahm Emanuel speaks during a media interview with Megyn Kelly"

Rahm Emanuel speaks during a media interview with podcast host Megyn Kelly. Photo: Screenshot

Rahm Emanuel’s recent declaration that Israel should henceforth be treated “like every other ally” was not serious strategic analysis. It was the sound of a longtime Democratic operative adjusting himself to the increasingly radicalized gravitational pull of his party’s anti-Israel wing.

The same political ecosystem now mainstreaming figures like Hasan Piker — a man who declared that “America deserved 9/11” and routinely traffics in hateful anti-American and anti-Israel propaganda to millions — is steadily dragging Democratic rhetoric on Israel into territory that would have been politically radioactive even a decade ago.

Like others making similar arguments, Emanuel’s slogan collapses under even minimal historical scrutiny.

When looking at the evidence, it’s clear that Israel is already treated unlike many American allies.

First, some allies, like NATO members, are entitled to American military protection and defense if they are attacked. When Israel fights wars, Israelis fight them. That distinction matters enormously. Yet people like Rahm speak as though Israel is uniquely coddled rather than uniquely self-reliant.

Emanuel — who somehow served as ambassador to Japan while apparently learning little from the experience about how American alliances actually work — recently stated that the US should stop “subsidizing” Israel’s military and stop providing “financial aid” through the Memorandum of Understanding framework, and that Israel should instead simply “buy what they want” like every other ally.

The aid framework Rahm now caricatures as “subsidies” and “financial aid” was never an act of American charity. It emerged from strategic bargains and overlapping interests that benefited Washington enormously.

A major turning point in that strategic bargain came in the 1980s with Israel’s Lavi fighter project — an ambitious domestically developed fighter program that many in Washington feared could become a genuine export competitor to the F-16.

American pressure to terminate the program was immense because, contrary to today’s woke-right and far-left parody of the alliance, Washington was not interested in an Israeli aerospace rival competing with American defense giants globally.

Under that pressure, Israel closed the program.

The result was deeper Israeli integration into American military platforms and supply chains — strengthening American aerospace dominance while locking Israel more tightly into the American defense ecosystem.

In other words, the architecture Rahm now dismisses as though it were unilateral charity did not emerge because Washington was engaged in philanthropy for Jews. It emerged because American policymakers concluded that the arrangement benefited the United States strategically, militarily, technologically, and industrially.

Almost all US military assistance to Israel is effectively spent in America on American systems built by American workers in American factories. Meanwhile, Israel became one of the most battle-tested laboratories for American military doctrine and technology anywhere in the world — missile defense, cyber operations, tunnel warfare, counterterrorism, intelligence integration, and urban combat.

American defense officials do not maintain these relationships because they are sentimental Zionists at the Pentagon. They maintain them because Israel provides enormous strategic value to the United States.

But the most absurd part of Emanuel’s slogan remains the slogan itself.

Because when Rahm says Israel should be treated “like every other ally,” he ignores the fact that Israel receives less benefits than many “other allies.”

Japan gets treaty guarantees. South Korea gets treaty guarantees and American troops on its front line – the DMZ. NATO states get the full weight of American deterrence and outsized military spending – compared to all other NATO countries, as the US accounts for roughly 70% of all NATO defense expenditures.

The Gulf monarchies host sprawling American military infrastructure protecting regimes that likely would not survive long without it.

Israel often gets lectures about “restraint” while fighting enemies openly committed to its destruction.

Israel gets told that the world’s only Jewish state — smaller than New Jersey and surrounded for decades by forces openly calling for its annihilation — should somehow behave like Holland while confronting enemies that behave more like ISIS with better public relations.

And through all of this, Israelis themselves still do the fighting.

That is the part the “subsidy” rhetoric always conceals.

When Hezbollah launches rockets into northern Israel, American Marines do not fight in southern Lebanon. When Hamas massacres Israeli civilians, American reservists are not mobilized into Gaza. When Iran openly threatens both the United States and Israel, American parents are not preparing their children for compulsory military service. Israelis are. That is not “special treatment.”

That’s why Emanuel’s rhetoric sounds less like strategy and more like ideological adaptation – the repositioning of a Democratic politician trying to survive a party increasingly shaped by activists who understand the Middle East primarily through slogans, intersectional dogma, and social media propaganda rather than military history or strategic reality.

For decades, American policymakers understood that Israel represented something uniquely valuable to the United States — a stable, democratic, technologically advanced regional power willing to fight its own wars without demanding or requiring American soldiers to die for it. Now figures like Rahm Emanuel speak as though this arrangement was some kind of American charity or a bad deal.

But it’s not — it’s a strategic partnership, and one squarely in America’s interest.

That consensus, however, is increasingly being subordinated to internal party pressures. The Democratic establishment’s attempts to placate the anti-Israel activist left will likely work about as well as it worked for Biden and Harris in 2024 — never anti-Israel enough to satisfy the far-left and Islamist activist ecosystem, but anti-Israel enough to alienate moderates, independents, and pro-American voters.

The party will soon likely decide if it should become outright hostile to voters — but history rarely rewards political classes that mistake ideological fashion for strategic wisdom. Rahm Emanuel should know that by now.

Micha Danzig is an attorney, former IDF soldier, and former NYPD officer. He writes widely on Israel, Zionism, antisemitism, and Jewish history. He serves on the board of Herut North America.

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Sheila Reich, beloved LA Yiddish teacher, has died

שיינדל „שילאַ“ רײַך, אַ פּאָפּולערע לאַנגיאָריקע ייִדיש־לערערין אין לאָס־אַנדזשעלעס, איז לעצטנס אַוועק אין דער אייביקייט. זי איז געווען 80 יאָר אַלט.

איך האָב געקענט שילאַן במשך פֿון מער װי אַ פֿערטל יאָרהונדערט אָבער בײַ מיר האָט זי געהייסן בלויז שיינדל. ערשט הײַיאָר, אויף איר 80סטן געבורירן־טאָג האָב איך אױסגעפֿונען אַז בײַ אַלע אַנדערע האָט זי געהײסן „שילאַ“.

יאָרן לאַנג איז שײנדל געװען אַ ייִדיש־לערערין אין פֿאַרשידענע אינסטיטוציעס איבער לאָס־אַנדזשעלעס. איך אַלײַן בין קיין מאָל נישט געווען בײַ איר אין קלאַס אָבער מײַן װײַב טעמע האָט זיך יאָרן לאַנג געלערנט בײַ איר. אַלס לערערין איז שײנדל געװען אויסערגעוויינטלעך. אין אַ טיפּישן קלאַס זענען די סטודענטן געווען אױף פֿאַרשידענע ניװאָען, פֿון אַבסאָלוטע אָנהײבער ביז אַװאַנסירט. דאָך האָט זי זיך אָפּגעגעבן מיט יעדן אײנעם באַזונדער. ווי אַ רעזולטאַט האָט די ייִדיש־קענטעניש בײַ יעדן סטודענט זיך פֿאַרבעסערט.

װי איך אַלײן, און ווי אַ סך פֿון אירע סטודענטן, איז שיינדל געװען אַ קינד פֿון דער שארית־הפּליטה. זינט די קינדעריאָרן האָבן מיר בײדע גערעדט ייִדיש מיט אונדזערע טאַטע־מאַמע. (זי האָט אויך גערעדט ייִדיש מיט איר זון, אַבֿי.) פֿאַקטיש איז ייִדיש פֿאַר אונדז בײדן געװען די ערשטע שפּראַך. אַן אונטערשייד פֿון צען יאָר צווישן אונדז, איז שיינדל אין מײַנע אױגן געװען די עלטערע שװעסטער װאָס איך האָב נישט געהאַט. אין אונדזערע פֿיל שמועסן האָבן מיר גערעדט אױף מאַמע־לשון. חס־וחלילה מיר זאָלן רעדן אױף דער גױישער שפּראַך! אַזױ װי איך, האָט זי געקענט צענדליקער, אױב נישט הונדערטער יִידישע אױסדרוקן, שפּריכװערטער און חכמות. מיר האָבן אָפֿט זיך געטיילט מיט די אויסדרוקן און תּמיד הנאה געהאַט ווען מיר האָבן זיך דערוווּסט אַ נײַ ווערטל.

יאָרן לאַנג איז שײנדל אויך געװען אַ מיטגליד פֿון אונדזער לײענקרײַז אין לאָס־אַנדזשעלעס. טראָץ דעם װאָס זי איז געװען אַ ייִדיש־לערערין האָט זי זיך קיין מאָל נישט געהאַלטן העכער פֿון אונדז. . אָט זענען עטלעכע:

„זומער און װינטער ליגט אים אין מױל“ — אַ פּאַטאַלאָגישער ליגנער. דער ליגן בלײַבט אין זײַן מױל אַ גאַנץ יאָר.

„עס גײט מיר אן אַזױ ווי דער פֿאַריאָריקער שנײ.“

„איך האָב נישט אַפֿילו קײַן כּוח צו חלשן.“

„קושװאָך“ — „האָנימון“. איז דאָס נישט חנעװדיק?

שײנדל איז געװען אַן אשת־חיל, מיט אַ פֿינקל אין אױג. איך, צוזאַמען מיט די מיטגלידער פֿון אונדזער לײענקרײַז און די אָנצאָליקע סטודענטן במשך פֿון די יאָרן, װעלן שטאַרק בענקען נאָך איר. כּבֿוד איר אָנדענק!

The post Sheila Reich, beloved LA Yiddish teacher, has died appeared first on The Forward.

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