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How Jewish leaders tried — and failed — to keep a Farrakhan follower off a Florida city council
(JTA) – When Brother John Muhammad emerged this fall as the leading candidate for a vacant city council seat in St. Petersburg, Florida, local Jews were distressed.
Muhammad is well known in the city as the president of a local neighborhood association and as a frequent advocate for minority groups. But Jewish leaders learned that he was also a follower of Louis Farrakhan, the Nation of Islam leader who has a long history of antisemitism, and that he had made comments dismissing concerns about Farrakhan’s record.
Jewish leaders tried to stave off Muhammad’s appointment, pushing for more extensive vetting of the seven candidates and, in the case of the local Holocaust museum, actively lobbying against him. But the council confirmed him in a 4-3 vote, leaving local Jews frustrated — before they considered ways to make the situation a learning experience for their city.
“When I see a situation like this, it screams ‘opportunity’ to me,” Michael Igel, chair of the Florida Holocaust Museum, located in St. Petersburg, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
The saga playing out in St. Petersburg, Florida’s fifth-largest city, unfolded during the same period that a handful of Black celebrities, including Kanye West and Kyrie Irving, first became enmeshed in controversy over their own antisemitic comments and social media posts. The coincidence meant a dicey environment for broaching a conversation about the antisemitism of the Nation of Islam, whose rhetoric disparaging Jews overlaps with that of Hebrew Israelites, the ideology that Irving promoted by sharing a link to an antisemitic film.
It also turned St. Petersburg into a window for understanding how ties forged between Jewish groups and others can be tested.
Local Jewish leaders initially sought to stop Muhammad from gaining the city council seat, which was vacated after its previous holder resigned following redistricting and accusations she no longer lived in her district. They learned about Muhammad’s city council application only a week before the council’s vote, leaving them with little time to mobilize. The information came from a political rival of Muhammad, former mayoral candidate Vince Nowicki, who shared information about Muhammad’s Nation of Islam affiliation with local Jewish groups.
Nowicki also shared a comment Muhammad had made about Jews in a 2016 video in which Muhammad interviewed local Black LGBTQ activists. In the video titled “A Conversation About Growing Up Black And LGBT,” which JTA viewed, Muhammad said, “Minister Farrakhan got accused of being antisemitic for a long time because he pointed out and made some corrections about the activity of Jews. And anybody who says anything critical of the Jewish community is labeled as being antisemitic. Good, bad, right or wrong, it doesn’t matter what you say. If you criticize them that’s what you are.”
He continued, saying, “And I’m finding that it happens when you are critical of the gay community, when you say anything critical or anything that doesn’t align with that ideology, now all of a sudden you’re homophobic.” Muhammad’s comments about gay people received some light but friendly pushback from his interview guests.
Muhammad did not reply to multiple requests for comment by JTA, including to questions emailed to him at his request. He said during a public meeting ahead of the council vote that he thought scrutiny of him by Jewish groups had been unfair.
To Jewish leaders, the comments in the video coupled with Muhammad’s Nation of Islam affiliation were clear signs that he should not be appointed to the city council.
“I would sure hope that being antisemitic would be a red line, that you could not be a candidate,” said Rabbi Philip Weintraub of Congregation B’nai Israel, a Conservative synagogue in the city.
Jewish leaders began to take action, issuing statements and launching a letter-writing campaign to the council. They felt so much urgency that some even conducted business on Simchat Torah, a Jewish holiday when Jewish organizations typically pause their activities in accordance with Jewish law.
As a nonprofit, the local federation was constrained in how it could weigh in. Since it could not endorse or oppose specific candidates, it instead pushed for every candidate to be “properly vetted” and informed council members about Muhammad’s affiliations and past comments, according to Maxine Kaufman, executive director of the Jewish Federation of Florida’s Gulf Coast. She said the efforts did not have their intended effect.
“I don’t think anybody said, ‘Well, who is this Farrakhan, what does he stand for?’” Kaufman said. “I don’t think enough was done, personally.”
The entrance to the Florida Holocaust Museum in St. Petersburg, Nov. 27, 2016. (Jeffrey Greenberg/Universal Images Group via Getty Images)
The Florida Holocaust Museum took another approach, circulating information about Muhammad to the wider community, along with a statement opposing the candidacy of anyone who would support Farrakhan’s antisemitism. Their goal, Igel said, was to educate the community about the severity of these views.
“There’s nothing else to talk about when somebody is supporting Louis Farrakhan,” Igel told JTA. “Particularly when you are seeking a position representative of a city, particularly one like St. Petersburg that is so known for its inclusivity and its openness.”
Igel praised some members of the city council who asked Muhammad pointed questions about his views at the vote, giving him the opportunity to refute Farrakhan’s comments about Jews. One council member who voted against Muhammad, Lisset Hanewicz, said her stepfather is Jewish and read Farrakhan’s past antisemitic statements into the record, saying, “I think people need to understand why a certain part of this community is upset.”
Igel acknowledged that getting involved in a city council appointment was an unusual move for a Holocaust museum. He said museum leaders had held a meeting beforehand to determine how to proceed but made a decision fairly quickly to weigh in.
“In this case, we don’t consider this to be a matter of politics,” Igel said. “This is a matter of morality. And this is what we teach.” If the candidate had been a white supremacist, Igel said, “that person would have been disqualified out of the gate.”
The Anti-Defamation League and Southern Poverty Law Center, two hate watchdogs, define the Nation of Islam as a group that propagates antisemitism and other forms of bigotry, not a religion. Founded in 1930 by Wallace Fard Muhammad, the Black nationalist group is not the same as traditional Islam and is rejected by most Muslim clerics; it entered mainstream prominence in the 1960s after civil rights leader Malcolm X and boxer Muhammad Ali publicly joined the movement. (Both later left the group, with Malcolm X publicly denouncing its leadership; he was assassinated shortly after, and two Nation of Islam members who were wrongfully convicted of his murder recently received a large settlement from New York City.)
The Nation of Islam entered its current era after Farrakhan took over the group in 1977. Now 89, he has used his platform to issue a steady stream of antisemitism, including calling Jews “wicked” and the “synagogue of Satan,” saying they have “wrapped your tentacles around the U.S. government,” and calling Hitler “a very great man.” Only a few years ago, the Women’s March progressive activist collective was nearly derailed over some of its founders’ associations with Farrakhan.
It is rare, but not unheard of, for public officials to have current or former associations with the Nation of Islam. Minnesota Attorney General Keith Ellison, a practicing Muslim, was dogged by accusations that he had formerly been a member of the group when he first ran for Congress in 2006; he apologized for his past associations with the group. Trayon White, a Washington, D.C. council member and onetime mayoral candidate who has spread antisemitic conspiracy theories, has donated to the group in the past. Former President George W. Bush once praised the group, and a photograph showing Barack Obama in the same room as Farrakhan was fodder for Obama’s critics during his presidential run.
Muhammad, who is referred to on the city council website as John Muhammad and whose legal name is John C. Malone, declined to condemn Farrakhan at the city council meeting.
“I am not willing to denounce the leader of my faith no more than a Catholic would be willing to denounce their pope,” he said.
Muhammad’s reaction to questions about Farrakhan particularly concerned the federation and other local Jewish groups. Kaufman told JTA she didn’t know whether Muhammad himself is antisemitic, but she said his refusal to disavow Farrakhan was alarming.
“I do have issue with his reverence of someone who is blatantly antisemitic, and he won’t disavow him, he won’t reject him,” she said, echoing the the federation’s official statement on the vote.
At the meeting, Muhammad did say that he had reached out to the Florida Holocaust Museum but had not heard back — and that he thought the museum’s criticism of him was unfair.
“What I found when we reached out to have dialogue with the Holocaust Museum director, they did not want to talk to me,” he said. “They wanted to evaluate and disqualify me based on the association that I have as an individual. I don’t think that that’s just.”
Muhammad also defended his record with Jews by claiming that they were among the “diversity of those who support me.” He added, “And if you look at those who oppose me, they’re coming from one particular group.”
Since the vote, a local Black newspaper condemned the scrutiny on Muhammad, calling it a “perusal into his faith practice.”
Igel said the museum had no record that Muhammad had reached out but encouraged him to come and learn more about the Holocaust and the nature of antisemitism. Stuart Berger, head of the local Jewish Community Relations Council, acknowledged at the city council meeting that Muhammad “has made himself available to us” at the federation, but that none of the federation staff “had been in direct contact with him.”
The federation’s involvement in Muhammad’s case became its own issue at the council vote, when the candidate referenced an email Berger had written to the county commissioner. In the email, Berger wrote that Muhammad’s vetting process had been “good enough for me!”
While Muhammad took the email as proof that the federation believed him to be fit for office, Berger and Kaufman maintain that it meant nothing of the sort. Berger had not been speaking on behalf of the federation, they say, and had not intended for his email to be shared publicly.
Now that Muhammad is on the council, attention has turned to building relationships with him. Kaufman has been meeting with individual city council members, and hopes to eventually meet with Muhammad himself. She also aims to have the federation make a presentation to the council about the dangers of antisemitism and push them to make a statement about it.
She doesn’t think it’s complicated. “I think hate’s hate,” she said. “Many different colors.”
Weintraub’s congregation is celebrating its 100th anniversary in March, and one of its congregants, Eric Lynn, is also involved in politics: he was the Democratic nominee for Florida’s 13th Congressional district in the midterms but lost his race to Republican Anna Paulina Luna, who said she was raised as a Messianic Jew and campaigned with far-right Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene.
Weintraub himself is a member of an interfaith ministerial dialogue group with Black churches and says he’s “a professional optimist” when it comes to managing conflict between different communities. He sent JTA an episode of the public radio podcast “Hidden Brain” about how to keep conflict from spiraling, saying it “describes what I’ve tried to do.”
Since Muhammad was appointed, Weintraub has met with him; the pair had what Weintraub described as “a pleasant conversation.” The two talked about parenting and “shared traumas,” he said. They did not discuss Muhammad’s comments supporting Farrakhan, but the rabbi couldn’t help but think about him.
“I thought I was a termite, according to Farrakhan,” Weintraub said. In contrast, Muhammad “said I was a person, so that was nice.”
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The post How Jewish leaders tried — and failed — to keep a Farrakhan follower off a Florida city council 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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