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Gaza’s Forgotten Jewish History

US President Donald Trump speaks during a joint press conference with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu in the East Room at the White House in Washington, US, Feb. 4, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Leah Millis
Donald Trump has never been one to think small. Whether it’s real estate, presidential campaigns, or diplomatic deals, he swings for the fences — never mind if there’s no stadium, no scoreboard, and half the world is telling him he’s out before he’s even up to bat.
This week, facing the press in the East Room of the White House alongside Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, Trump unveiled what might be his most audacious foreign policy brainstorm yet: the United States should take ownership of Gaza. Not manage, not advise, not even bankroll — straight-out own it.
In true Trumpian fashion, he envisions a Gaza transformed from a bombed-out wasteland into a shimmering economic paradise — “the Riviera of the Middle East.” A Middle Eastern Monaco, minus the gambling. A Dubai-on-the-Med.
And before anyone could even absorb the sheer magnitude of what he was proposing, Trump kept rolling: 1.8 million Palestinians could be relocated — details to be worked out later. The US would “level” Gaza, clear the unexploded ordnance, and oversee a massive 10-15-year international redevelopment project.
If that sounds ambitious, unexpected, and slightly surreal, don’t worry — Trump assured everyone that it’s definitely an idea worth exploring. And just to drive the point home, he announced that he’d personally visit Israel and Gaza to get the ball rolling.
Netanyahu smiled sheepishly, looking bemused and a little shocked as he carefully navigated Trump’s latest foreign policy bombshell. “I think it’s something that could change history,” he offered tactfully, while reporters shouted questions and cameras snapped away furiously.
Was this classic Trump hyperbole or the first step toward an unprecedented geopolitical shakeup? With Trump, you can love it, hate it, or just shake your head in disbelief — but you definitely can’t ignore it.
But as the world predictably yells “ethnic cleansing” and dismisses Trump’s idea as delusional, it’s worth remembering Gaza’s extensive Jewish roots — and that, if anything, it’s the Jews who have been ethnically cleansed from Gaza.
Because let’s face it, the notion of Jews having a stake in Gaza isn’t some modern Zionist invention — it’s a historical reality stretching back over 3,000 years. Long before Gaza became a terrorist stronghold run by radical Islamist murderers and rapists, this strip of land was part of the biblical Land of Israel, allotted to the tribe of Judah (Joshua 15:47). Samson had his fateful showdown in Gaza (Judges 16:23-30), collapsing the Philistine temple and everyone inside it, in his final act of defiance.
Fast forward to the Second Temple period, and Gaza remained vital to Jewish life. After the Hasmoneans liberated Judea from Greek rule, they conquered Gaza in 96 BCE, incorporating it into the Jewish kingdom.
Even under Roman rule, Gaza’s Jewish community thrived. Jewish merchants played a key role in the city’s bustling market — as referenced in the Talmud (Avodah Zarah 11b).
During the Byzantine period, the Jewish presence in Gaza was so significant that the local community boasted a magnificent synagogue rediscovered near the ancient port in 1965. Its mosaic floor depicted King David playing a harp — a Jewish-themed biblical tribute quite literally set in stone.
And the Jewish connection didn’t end there. In medieval times, Jewish travelers, scholars, and kabbalists lived and taught in Gaza. Under Ottoman rule, Jews continued to reside in the city, engaging in commerce and religious scholarship.
The famed preacher and kabbalist, Rabbi Israel Najara, served as Gaza’s chief rabbi in the early 1600s. Curiously, Gaza’s most famous Jewish son during that period was the notorious Nathan of Gaza (“Natan Azzati”), a 17th-century mystic who became the chief promoter and “prophet” of the false messiah Shabbetai Tzvi. And even in the modern era, a small Jewish community remained in Gaza — until the 1929 Arab riots forced them to flee.
So there you have it. Those are the facts. Gaza was Jewish long before it became a Hamas terror base. The real historical anomaly isn’t the thought of Jews returning and Arabs leaving — it’s the insistence that Gaza must remain forever Judenrein.
As the Bible recalls, Gaza’s first great collapse came at the hands of Samson. Blinded, shackled, and dragged into the Philistine temple, he was meant to be their trophy — proof that Israel’s strength had been broken.
But in his final act, Samson grasped the pillars, pushed with all his might, and brought the entire structure down. Thousands were crushed, including the Philistine rulers, marking the beginning of the end for Philistine dominance in Gaza.
The prophets of Israel saw this as a pattern. Amos (1:6-7), Zephaniah (2:4-7), and Zechariah (9:5-7) all foretold Gaza’s destruction and desolation due to its cruelty toward Israel. And time proved them right — Gaza fell again and again, each time brought low by its own unbridled violence against the Jewish people.
And now, in our own time, we are watching that prophecy unfold before our eyes yet again. Hamas has led Gaza into ruin and utter collapse, just as the Philistines did before them. The question is: what do we do with this moment?
When the Jewish people left Egypt in the Exodus story, God deliberately steered them away from Gaza (Ex. 13:17): “For God said, lest the people reconsider when they see war and return to Egypt.” But although the Israelites avoided the confrontation then, it only led to more brutal battles later on.
History teaches us that avoiding evil does not make it disappear — it only delays the inevitable. Thankfully, the Philistines met their end, as the prophets predicted. Today, in a truly historic moment, we have a rare opportunity to finally reshape Gaza’s future for the good — and end Hamas once and for all — but only if we recognize that history rewards those who seize the moment, not those who run from it.
And maybe that’s President Trump’s point. His unorthodox approach may need some reframing, but he is at least forcing a conversation that most world leaders and opinion-formers would rather avoid.
The question isn’t whether Trump’s idea is radical — the real question is whether the world is finally ready to confront Gaza’s reality instead of endlessly postponing it. Because the past suggests one thing: when Gaza collapses under the weight of its own destruction, history doesn’t end — it resets. The only thing we should consider is whether we will shape what comes next, or let Gaza slip back into the hands of those who would destroy it again.
The post Gaza’s Forgotten Jewish History first appeared on Algemeiner.com.
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Israel Launches Major Gaza City Ground Offensive

Smoke rises from Gaza after an explosion, as seen from the Israeli side of the border, Sept. 16, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Amir Cohen
Israel launched a long-anticipated ground offensive in Gaza City on Tuesday, as the military confirmed it began efforts to “destroy Hamas infrastructure” with a major push in the area after heavy bombing overnight.
An Israel Defense Forces official said ground troops were moving deeper into the enclave’s main city, and that the number of soldiers would rise in coming days to confront up to 3,000 Hamas combatants the IDF believes are still in the city.
“Gaza is burning,” Defense Minister Israel Katz posted on X. “The IDF strikes with an iron fist at the terrorist infrastructure and IDF soldiers are fighting bravely to create the conditions for the release of the hostages and the defeat of Hamas.”
In launching the offensive, Israel‘s government defied European leaders threatening sanctions and warnings from even some of Israel‘s own military commanders that it could be a costly operation.
US President Donald Trump sided with Israel, telling reporters at the White House that Hamas would have “hell to pay” if it used hostages as human shields during the assault.
In the latest expression of international alarm, a United Nations Commission of Inquiry concluded that Israel had committed genocide in Gaza. Israel called the assessment “scandalous” and “fake.”
Israel says it has gone to unprecedented lengths to try and avoid civilian casualties, noting its efforts to evacuate areas before it targets them and to warn residents of impending military operations with leaflets, text messages, and other forms of communication. However, Hamas, the Palestinian terrorist group which has ruled Gaza for nearly two decades, has in many cases prevented people from leaving, according to the IDF.
Another challenge for Israel is Hamas’s widely recognized military strategy of embedding its terrorists within Gaza’s civilian population and commandeering civilian facilities like hospitals, schools, and mosques to run operations and direct attacks.
Gaza health officials, who work for Hamas-controlled organizations, reported at least 70 people had been killed on Tuesday, most of them in Gaza City, as airstrikes swept across the city and tanks advanced.
Israel renewed calls on civilians to leave, and columns of Palestinians streamed towards the south and west in donkey carts, rickshaws, heavily laden vehicles, or on foot.
Hours before the escalation, US Secretary of State Marco Rubio said in Jerusalem that, while the United States wished for a diplomatic end to the war, “we have to be prepared for the possibility that’s not going to happen.”
But in Brussels, a spokesperson for the EU executive said it would agree on Wednesday to impose new sanctions on Israel, including suspending certain trade provisions.
Some residents were staying put, too poor to secure a tent and transport or because there was nowhere safe to go.
“It is like escaping from death towards death, so we are not leaving,” said Um Mohammad, a woman living in the suburb of Sabra, under aerial and ground fire for days.
The IDF said it estimated 40 percent of people in Gaza City had left. Hamas said 350,000 had left their homes in the eastern parts of the city, heading to displacement shelters in its central or western areas, while another 175,000 people had fled the city altogether, heading south.
Much of Gaza City was laid to waste in the early weeks of the war in 2023, but around 1 million Palestinians had returned there to homes among the ruins.
Israeli military spokesperson Effie Defrin said the military was adjusting its humanitarian efforts in light of the evacuations and “there will not be a situation of starvation in Gaza.”
Some Israeli military commanders have expressed concern that the Gaza City offensive could endanger remaining hostages held by Hamas or be a “death trap” for troops.
Chief of Staff Eyal Zamir, at a meeting Benjamin Netanyahu convened late on Sunday with security chiefs, urged the prime minister to pursue a ceasefire deal, according to three Israeli officials, two of whom were in the meeting and one of whom was briefed on its details.
Hamas-led Palestinian terrorists attacked Israel in October 2023, killing about 1,200 people and taking 251 hostages. Israel responded with a campaign aimed at freeing the hostages and dismantling Hamas’s military capabilities and political rule in neighboring Gaza.
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America Orphaned Charlie Kirk’s Children — We Must Recommit to a Society of Open Debate

Roses and candles are placed next to a picture of Charlie Kirk during a vigil under the line “In Memory of Charlie Kirk, for freedom, patriotism, and justice” in front of the Embassy of the United States after US right-wing activist, commentator, Charlie Kirk, an ally of US President Donald Trump, was shot dead during an event at Utah Valley University, Orem, US, in Berlin, Germany, Sept. 11, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Annegret Hilse
Last week, America orphaned two young children.
Charlie Kirk — a husband, a father, and a son — was murdered for his politics. He leaves behind a three-year-old daughter and a one-year-old son. Before we argue motives or policies, we should sit with this simple fact: in today’s America, toddlers lost their father because of what he believed. What kind of legacy is that for them?
Political violence has scarred this nation before. In the 1960s, John F. Kennedy was shot in Dallas, Robert Kennedy in Los Angeles, and Martin Luther King, Jr., in Memphis. Those assassinations did more than take lives. They deepened mistrust, fueled cynicism, and plunged a divided country into turmoil.
We appear to be back in that dangerous territory. The attempted assassination of President Trump last summer should have been a moment of unity. Instead, it was quickly absorbed into the partisan crossfire, treated as conspiracy fodder rather than as a flashing red warning.
Now comes the murder of Charlie Kirk. Whatever one thinks of his politics, Kirk embodied a younger generation of conservative voices: brash, combative, sometimes polarizing — but willing to engage with opposing ideas. He didn’t hide from debate. He invited it. That spirit, not the bullet that killed him, should be his legacy.
I’ve seen firsthand how difficult honest engagement has become. I recently completed my first year as CEO of The Algemeiner, a storied Jewish online media outlet. We are broadly center-right, but our mission has always been universalism, which is the translation of the Yiddish word Algemeiner: to provide space for diverse perspectives, including those we disagree with.
In today’s climate, that modest aspiration feels almost radical. Too many Americans don’t just want to win an argument. They want to delegitimize the other side. The result is echo chambers where grievances fester and extremists thrive.
History tells us where that road leads. The political murders of the 1960s did not settle disputes. They destabilized a nation. We should have learned then that violence is not catharsis. It is contagious.
The stakes today are not abstract. They live in the faces of Kirk’s daughter and son — and all of our children. What kind of America will they inherit? One where political disagreements are handled with contempt and violence — or one where adversaries still recognize each other as fellow citizens?
A reset is urgently needed. That doesn’t mean surrendering convictions. It means recovering the courage to listen, to tolerate, and to argue without erasing. Leaders on both sides must resist the urge to score points from tragedy and instead cool the temperature. Media institutions, including my own, must hold space for genuine, even uncomfortable debate. Citizens must step back from the dopamine rush of outrage and recommit to the hard work of coexistence.
Charlie Kirk’s murder is a tragedy. It is also a mirror. It reflects the society we have allowed ourselves to become — and dares us to choose differently. His children will grow up in the country we shape now. Let it be one where their father’s legacy is remembered not only for what he said, but for his willingness to engage across divides.
That is the democratic inheritance worth fighting for — not with bullets, but with words.
David M. Cohen is the Chief Executive Officer of The Algemeiner.
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The Price of Abandoning Jewish College Students (PART TWO)
Part one of this article appeared here.
As Jewish families vote with their feet, abandoning hostile campuses for welcoming ones, elite universities face a reckoning.
The exodus documented in Part 1 of my article isn’t just a demographic shift — it’s an indictment of institutions that once symbolized Jewish achievement in America.
Harvard, Columbia, Yale, and their peers are scrambling to respond. Task forces are being formed. Listening sessions are being scheduled, and security measures are being enhanced. But these surface-level responses cannot mask a deeper rot: a campus culture that has normalized hostility toward Jewish students while administrators equivocate and Jewish organizations struggle to mount an effective defense.
The question is no longer whether Jewish students will remain at these institutions. That verdict is being rendered in admissions offices across the country. The question now is what this abandonment will mean — for the universities losing their Jewish communities, for the schools gaining them, and for American higher education itself.
Elite Campuses Have Not Changed
Some elite northern universities have responded to criticism, but their actions reveal the depth of the problem rather than solve it.
Harvard recently agreed to cover security costs for its Hillel chapter, a basic safety measure that should never have been in question.
Columbia established a Task Force on Antisemitism and held listening sessions after months of campus upheaval. Yet these measures came only after Congressional hearings, donor revolts, and the resignation of two Ivy League presidents. The very need for “task forces” to address antisemitism in 2024, and debates over whether to fund security for Jewish students, speaks to how far these institutions have fallen.
But these surface-level responses cannot mask the underlying culture that remains hostile. Anti-Israel activism is normalized, sometimes even celebrated, while openly Zionist students are treated as suspect. Student governments pass BDS resolutions while refusing to condemn Hamas.
Professors who call October 7 “exhilarating” face no consequences, while students who tear down hostage posters are protected as exercising free speech. Jewish students report being excluded from progressive groups unless they denounce Israel, forced to pass ideological litmus tests that no other minority group faces.
Diversity and inclusion are loudly championed for some groups — but withheld from Jews.
The same DEI offices that rush to support other communities remain silent when Jewish students face harassment, or worse, frame Jews as white oppressors undeserving of protection. Orientation programs that celebrate every form of identity offer nothing for Jewish students. Ethnic studies departments that explore every Diaspora experience somehow omit Jewish history and culture.
Meanwhile, administrators hedge, equivocate, and fear controversy more than they fear injustice. They take days to condemn antisemitic vandalism but hours to denounce other forms of bias.
They parse the difference between anti-Zionism and antisemitism, while Jewish students are told to hide their Stars of David. They invoke “context” and “nuance” when asked if calling for genocide against Jews violates campus policies, but show no such hesitation when other groups are threatened.
The irony is bitter.
A century ago, these same schools used explicit quotas to keep Jews out. When quotas fell, Jewish students and faculty showed up, helping make these universities world-class institutions. Now, through neglect and bias, those same institutions are driving Jewish students away.
Jewish Institutions Have Also Fallen Short
Universities bear primary responsibility for campus culture. But Jewish communal organizations have also failed to meet this moment.
I have argued that Jewish institutions have been far too focused on statements and elite conversations, and not nearly focused enough on real, on-the-ground action. Students need more than words: they need physical presence, legal support, and rapid response.
There are bright spots.
Hillel’s Campus Climate Initiative is doing important work, and some ADL and AJC interventions have made a difference.
As I documented in my recent AEI piece at The Algemeiner, Jewish fraternities like AEPi have become critical lifelines for Zionist and Jewish students, with brothers creating safety networks, walking each other to class, and providing the protection universities fail to offer.
But these efforts are patchy and uneven. Too often, a lone Chabad rabbi or Hillel director ends up serving as the first and last line of defense for hundreds of students, while national organizations issue press releases from afar.
Grassroots groups like Jewish on Campus and Students Supporting Israel are filling the gap heroically. Fraternity brothers are literally serving as bodyguards. Student volunteers are documenting incidents, organizing counter-protests, and providing real-time support to threatened peers. But they should not have to shoulder this burden alone.
The fact that 19-year-old fraternity brothers have become de facto security forces, and that student-run Instagram accounts are doing more to combat antisemitism than university administrations, reveals a complete institutional abdication. The lack of robust institutional backing is one reason families are choosing to leave hostile campuses rather than fight to change them.
A Debate About Leaving vs. Staying
These institutional failures have forced families into a difficult choice. This raises a painful debate within the Jewish community. Many believe Jewish students should stay and fight. These schools, after all, were built and sustained in part by Jewish effort and philanthropy. Walking away can feel like surrendering hard-won ground.
This instinct to fight is noble. And there are students and organizations committed to asserting Jewish presence on these campuses. But the data tell a different story.
Nearly two-thirds of Jewish parents are now eliminating colleges from their lists due to antisemitism. Enrollment numbers at elite northeastern schools are dropping. Simultaneously, Jewish life at southern universities is exploding.
Families are making a rational choice. They are prioritizing their children’s safety, dignity, and joy over symbolic battles. Leaving is not surrender; it is choosing to thrive rather than endure.
The message from Jewish students and their parents could not be clearer: we will go where we are welcome, and we will leave where we are not.
This shift also reflects a broader truth: the old northeastern elites no longer have a monopoly on intellectual vitality or success. Southern schools like Vanderbilt, Emory, and Tulane now offer world-class academics, robust Jewish communities, and a culture of belonging. Families are realizing that the future can be built elsewhere.
The Stakes for Universities
The consequences for elite schools are profound. They are not just losing students; they are losing some of their most engaged, high-achieving, and civically minded young people. Jewish students have historically been leaders in campus organizations, from student government to academic clubs, from literary magazines to debate teams.
They’ve been Rhodes Scholars and valedictorians, startup founders and social activists. These are the students who go on to become major donors, serve on boards of trustees, and send their own children back to their alma maters.
They are also risking long-term philanthropic support. Jewish alumni networks have been essential to these institutions’ growth. Names like Bloomberg at Johns Hopkins, Lauder at Penn, and countless others have transformed campuses through their generosity. If their loyalty wanes, endowments and influence will follow. We’re already seeing early signs: major Jewish donors pulling funding, reconsidering bequests, and redirecting their philanthropy toward schools that protect Jewish students.
The unraveling of this partnership will reshape higher education. Institutions that fought so hard to overcome their antisemitic past have allowed it to resurface in new forms, driving away the community that helped make them great.
A Broader Realignment and What Comes Next
Jewish students are at the forefront of a larger realignment in American higher education. Many non-Jewish students are also rejecting elite northern campuses. They are seeking environments that feel open, balanced, and sane: places where education takes priority over permanent protest.
Jewish families are simply the first to act. Their migration is a leading indicator of wider discontent.
Fall 2025 marks a turning point. The start of the academic year and the High Holy Days have converged to highlight a stark reality: Jewish students are voting with their feet.
Elite schools could choose to reform by enforcing clear standards, protecting all students equally, and rebuilding trust. Jewish institutions could choose to step up, placing resources and people where they are needed most.
But if they do not, this Fall’s movement will become a permanent migration. The Jewish campus map will be redrawn, and the old hierarchies of prestige will crumble.
The Ivy League once represented the pinnacle of Jewish aspiration. Now, for many families, it represents a question: Why fight to stay where we are not wanted, when there are places ready to welcome us?
This isn’t just a story about Jewish students or campus antisemitism. It’s about the collapse of institutional trust, the failure of moral leadership, and the quiet power of families making rational choices about their children’s futures. The map of Jewish campus life is being redrawn not by quotas or decrees, but by thousands of individual decisions that add up to a historic realignment.
And in that choice lies both a condemnation of what these institutions have become and hope for what American higher education might yet be.
Samuel J. Abrams is a professor of politics at Sarah Lawrence College and a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute.