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How the late actor Topol turned Tevye into a Zionist
(JTA) — If you were born anytime before, say, 1975, you might remember Israel not as a source of angst and tension among American Jews but as a cause for celebration. In the 1960s and ’70s, most Jews embraced as gospel the heroic version of Israel’s founding depicted in Leon Uris’ 1958 novel “Exodus” and the 1960 movie version. The1961 Broadway musical “Milk and Honey,” about American tourists set loose in Israel, ran for over 500 performances. And that was before Israel’s lightning victory in the Six-Day War turned even fence-sitting suburban Jews into passionate Zionists.
That was the mood when the film version of “Fiddler on the Roof” came out in 1971. The musical had already been a smash hit on Broadway, riding a wave of nostalgia by Jewish audiences and an embrace of ethnic particularism by the mainstream. The part of Tevye, the put-upon patriarch of a Jewish family in a “small village in Russia,” was originated on Broadway by Zero Mostel, a Brooklyn-born actor who grew up in a Yiddish-speaking home. Ashkenazi American Jews tended to think of “Fiddler” as family history — what Alisa Solomon, author of the 2013 book “Wonder of Wonders: A Cultural History of Fiddler on the Roof,” describes as the “Jewish American origin story.”
But Mostel didn’t star in the film, which landed in theaters while the afterglow of Israel’s victory in its second major war of survival had yet to fade. Famously – or notoriously – the part went to Chaim Topol, a young Israeli actor unknown outside of Israel except for his turns in the London productions of “Fiddler.” With an Israeli in the lead, a musical about the perils and dilemmas of Diaspora became a film about Zionism. When Topol played Tevye in London, Solomon writes,“‘Fiddler’ became a site for celebration, drawing Jews as well as gentiles to the theater — some for repeat viewings — to bask in Jewish perseverance and to pay homage to Jewish survival. The show didn’t change, but the atmosphere around it did.”
Topol died this week at 87, still best known as Tevye, and his death reminded me of the ways “Fiddler” is — and isn’t — Zionist. When Tevye and his fellow villagers are forced out of Anatevke by the czarist police, they head for New York, Chicago and Krakow. Only Yente, the matchmaker, declares that she is going to the “Holy Land.” Perchik, the presumably socialist revolutionary who marries one of Tevye’s daughters, wants to transform Russian society and doesn’t say a word about the political Zionists who sought to create a workers’ utopia in Palestine.
“There is nothing explicitly or even to my mind implicitly Zionist about it,” Solomon told me a few years back. And yet, she said, “any story of Jewish persecution becomes from a Zionist perspective a Zionist story.”
When the Israeli Mission to the United Nations hosted a performance of the Broadway revival of “Fiddler” in 2016, that was certainly the perspective of then-Ambassador Dani Danon. Watching the musical, he said, he couldn’t help thinking, “What if they had a place to go [and the Jews of Anatevke could] live as a free people in their own land? The whole play could have been quite different.”
Israelis always had a complicated relationship with “Fiddler,” Solomon told me. The first Hebrew production was brought to Israel in 1965 by impresario Giora Godik. American Jews were enthralled by its resurrection of Yiddishkeit, the Ashkenazi folk culture that their parents and grandparents had left behind and the Holocaust had all but erased. Israelis were less inclined to celebrate the “Old Country.”
“Israelis were — what? — not exactly ashamed or hostile, but the Zionist enterprise was about moving away from that to become ‘muscle Jews,’ and even denouncing the stereotype of the pasty, weakling Eastern European Jews,” said Solomon, warning that she was generalizing.
That notion of the “muscle Jew” is echoed in a review of Topol’s performance by New Yorker critic Pauline Kael, who wrote that he is “a rough presence, masculine, with burly, raw strength, but also sensual and warm. He’s a poor man but he’s not a little man, he’s a big man brought low — a man of Old Testament size brought down by the circumstances of oppression.”
From left: Maria Karnilova, Tanya Everett, Zero Mostel, Julia Migenes and Joanna Merlin backstage at opening night of “Fiddler on the Roof” at the Imperial Theater in New York City, Sept. 22, 1964. (AP/Courtesy of Roadside Attractions and Samuel Goldwyn Films)
Mostel, by contrast, was plump, sweaty and vaudevillian — a very different kind of masculinity. The congrast between the two Tevyes shows up in, of all places, a parody of “Fiddler” in Mad magazine. In that 1976 comic, Mostel’s Tevye is reimagined as a neurotic, nouveau riche suburban American Jew with a comb-over, spoiled hippy children and a “spendthrift” wife; Topol’s Tevye arrives in a dream to blame his descendants for turning their backs on tradition and turning America into a shallow, consumerist wasteland. A kibbutznik couldn’t have said (or sung) it better.
Composer Jerry Bock, lyricist Sheldon Harnick and book writer Joseph Stein set out to write a hit musical, not a political statement. But others have always shaped “Fiddler” to their needs.
In the original script, Yente tells Tevye’s wife Golde, “I’m going to the Holy Land to help our people increase and multiply. It’s my mission.” In a 2004 Broadway revival, staged in the middle of the second intifada, the “increase and multiply” line was excised. In a review of Solomon’s “Wonder of Wonders,” Edward Shapiro conjectured that the producers of the revival didn’t want Yente to be seen as “a soldier in the demographic war between Jews and Arabs.”
Topol himself connected “Fiddler” to Israel as part of one long thread that led from Masada — the Judean fortress where rebellious Jewish forces fell to the Romans in the first century CE — through Russia and eventually to Tel Aviv. “My grandfather was a sort of Tevye, and my father was a son of Tevye,” Topol told The New York Times in 1971. “My grandfather was a Russian Jew and my father was born in Russia, south of Kiev. So I knew of the big disappointment with the [Russian] Revolution, and the Dreyfus trial in France, and the man with the little mustache on his upper lip, the creation of the state of Israel and ‘Masada will never fall again.’ It’s the grandchildren now who say that. It’s all one line — it comes from Masada 2,000 years ago, and this Tevye of mine already carries in him the chromosomes of those grandchildren.”
The recent all-Yiddish version of “Fiddler on the Roof” — a Yiddish translation of an English-language musical based on English translations of Yiddish short stories — readjusted that valence, returning “Fiddler” solidly to the Old Country. It arrived at a time when surveys suggested that Jews 50 and older are much more emotionally attached to Israel than are younger Jews. For decades, “Exodus”-style devotion to Israel and its close corollary — Holocaust remembrance — were the essence of American Jewish identity. Among younger generations with no first-hand memories of its founding or victory in the 1967 war, that automatic connection faded.
Meanwhile, as Israeli politics have shifted well to the right, engaged liberal Jews have rediscovered the allure of pre-Holocaust, pre-1948, decidedly leftist Eastern European Jewish culture. A left-wing magazine like Jewish Currents looks to the socialist politics and anti-Zionism of the Jewish Labor Bund; symposiums on Yiddish-speaking anarchists and Yiddish-language classes draw surprisingly young audiences. A Yiddish “Fiddler” fits this nostalgia for the shtetl (as does the “Fiddler” homage in the brand-new “History of the World, Part II,” which celebrates the real-life radical Fanny Kaplan, a Ukrainian Jew who tried to assassinate Lenin).
Topol’s Tevye was an Israeli Tevye: young, manly, with a Hebrew accent. Mostel’s Tevye was an American Tevye: heimish, New York-y, steeped in Yiddishkeit. It’s a testament to the show’s enduring appeal — and the multitudes contained within Jewish identity — that both performances are beloved.
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The post How the late actor Topol turned Tevye into a Zionist appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Jewish Migration as an Oracle: What Jewish Migration Tells Us About the Fate of Nations
Masked radial pro-Hamas demonstrators in France on November 16, 2024. Photo: Romain Costaseca / Hans Lucas via Reuters Connect.
For generations, the movement of the Jewish people has served as a silent barometer for the stability of certain countries. It is a phenomenon that transcends simple demographics. When the Jewish community begins to leave a country where it had been settled for some time in significant numbers, they are not merely seeking better economic utility or responding to spiritual yearnings; they are signaling a major cultural and political shift that can precede a wider systemic failure.
To understand the future of Europe, Russia, and elsewhere, we must look at the benchmark of migration — and what it tells us about the crises of today.
How so?
When significant developments occur in the political arena, leaders and journalists often scramble for insights into whether a major shift is on the horizon. The Jewish community, however, asks a more visceral set of questions: What does this new reality promise? Is this the end of the chapter for Jews in this place? What is the right time to leave? Because Jews historically link uncertainty and suspected danger to migration, their movement becomes a signal — a mirror reflecting the strength and timing of a major political crisis.
History confirms that Jewish migration is not just a reaction to a crisis, but a predictor of its depth. It is a “canary in the coal mine.”
It is important to distinguish between routine migration and a mass migration, an avalanche. It is a sudden and unusually looking mass migration that is a signal of a terminal societal breakdown. And to capture that, we must establish a benchmark.
Historically, when a society is on the brink of or undergoing a total transformation or failure, we have seen between 50% and 75% of the Jewish population migrate within a five-to-ten-year window. The sample is small, but these figures are not speculative. They are the markers of history’s most significant ruptures:
- Nazi Germany (1933–1939): In the seven years following the rise of the Third Reich, 50% of the initial 503,000 Jews left the country.
- The Former Soviet Union (1989–1995): As the Soviet empire crumbled, 53% of its 1.5 million Jews migrated within seven years.
- North Africa (1960–1969): In Morocco and Tunisia, 72% of the Jewish population departed within a decade. In Algeria, that figure reached a staggering 75%.
These numbers represent more than just a move; they represent the liquidation of a presence. When 50% to 75% of a community leaves in a single decade, it is a definitive statement that the social contract in that nation has been broken. This is the benchmark against which all modern migration must be measured.
What does the oracle say about today’s realities then? In the aftermath of the October 7 attacks and the subsequent surge in global antisemitism, the media has often spoken in apocalyptic terms about the future of Jews in Europe and the West.
Questions like “Could it happen here?” have returned to the forefront of communal discourse across all Diaspora communities. Yet, if we look at the hard data of actual migration toward Israel, the “oracle” is telling a surprisingly different story.
Despite the ongoing conflicts and the visible rise in hostility, we are not seeing a mass movement of Jews of the Diaspora out of their countries at mass levels.
In Western Europe, the numbers of Jewish immigrants, to Israel and elsewhere, remain remarkably low. As of 2025, the projected percentage of would-be migrants over a seven-year period for the United Kingdom is only 3%. In France, a country often featured as the epicenter of European Jewish anxiety, the figure is 7%. Germany and the Netherlands sit at a mere 2% and 1% respectively. These figures are a far cry from the 50-75% threshold that signaled the end of Jewish life in 1930s Germany or 1960s Algeria.
In Russia, the initial shock of 2022 saw a spike where 68% of the population were considered would-be migrants — a figure that sat squarely within the benchmark of collapse. However, by 2025, that number had plummeted to 17%. Similarly, in Ukraine, the 2022 figure of 62% has dropped to just 7% by 2025.
All of this suggests that, for all the very real anxieties and the genuine rise in antisemitic incidents, the Jewish communities in the West still perceive a level of underlying stability in their host nations that is not reflected in the headlines.
If Jewish migration is a mirror of world peace, the current data suggests that while the mirror is cracked, the frame has not yet shattered. The mass exodus that characterizes the end of a chapter is simply not happening in London, Paris, or Berlin.
Equally importantly, the predictive power of this data remains a warning. The benchmark exists so that we can recognize the abnormal when it arrives. The fact that we have not reached the 50% threshold in Europe is categorically not an invitation for complacency; it is a baseline for measurement.
By monitoring these levels and intensities of migration and societal turmoil, we gain the ability to see the strength and timing of political shifts before they fully manifest. The oracle may be quiet for now, but its history tells us that when it speaks, the rest of the world ignores it at its own peril. Because Jewish migration is not about Jews, it is about the rest.
Dr. Daniel Staetsky is an expert in Jewish demography and statistics. He is based in Cambridge, UK.
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Israel Remembered the Shoah; Fatah Glorified a Palestinian Mass Murderer
Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas attends the World Economic Forum (WEF) in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, April 28, 2024. Photo: REUTERS/Hamad I Mohammed
Earlier this week, Israel remembered the six million Jews murdered by the Nazis in the Holocaust, along with those who valiantly fought the Nazis.
Israel learned from the Holocaust that we must always remain vigilant, and this remains an absolute survival directive, living as we do next to the Palestinian Authority (PA), which, like the Nazis, celebrates the murder of Jews and Israelis.
One of the terrorists released by Israel in exchange for Israeli hostages in last year’s Hamas extortion deal was a Palestinian terrorist who murdered 12 people. He was expelled to Egypt, where he died from an illness last week. The mass murderer is now being eulogized by Palestinian Authority and Fatah officials as exemplifying the values cherished by all Palestinians.
The terrorist, Riyad Al-Amour, was no exception.
The PA honored the terrorist with a “mourning tent” — which was visited by top officials, including Fatah Central Committee Secretary Jibril Rajoub.
Official PA TV reporter: “The Fatah Movement, the Ramallah and El-Bireh District, the [PA-funded] Prisoners’ Club, the [PLO] Commission of Prisoners’ [Affairs] … set up a mourning tent for Martyr and released prisoner deported to Egypt Riyad Al-Amour, who died as a Martyr…”
Fatah Central Committee Secretary Jibril Rajoub: “The most sacred thing in the eyes of the Palestinians is those who sacrificed their lives and their freedom – our Martyrs.”
[Official PA TV News, April 9, 2026]
Fatah issued an official statement revering the terrorist as “an example of sacrifice, courage, and perseverance” who was imprisoned by Israel since he “did not hesitate to fulfill his national duty.” [emphasis added]
Posted text: “Fatah announces with sorrow the death of released deported prisoner Riyad Al-Amour…
Al-Amour died while being distanced from his homeland, after a path of struggle in which he constituted an example of sacrifice, courage, and perseverance.…
Martyr Al-Amour joined Fatah in his youth and added that he did not hesitate to fulfill his national duty against the occupation until he was imprisoned in the occupation’s prisons, where he spent 23 years.
Fatah expressed its sincere condolences to the family…
High-level Fatah officials also mourned the terrorist on social media:
Posted text:“Fatah Central Committee members Abbas Zaki and Tawfiq Tirawi expressed their condolences over the death of released prisoner Riyad Al-Amour during a visit to the mourners’ house in Bethlehem.
The delegation expressed its deep sorrow over the death as a Martyr of Al-Amour, and emphasized that the sacrifice of the prisoners [i.e., terrorists] will remain present in the hearts of our people and that the struggle for freedom and independence must continue.”
[Fatah Central Committee member Abbas Zaki, Facebook page, April 5, 2026]
The family of Al-Amour — a “Pay-for-Slay” millionaire — will now have to wait and see if they will qualify for continued payments as family members of a “Martyr killed resisting the occupation,” since many PA officials also libeled Israel as being responsible for his death.
The Palestinian salute to Al-Amour is shameless, but as we have seen time and time again, for the PA and its leadership, terrorism is never something to be embarrassed about or part of one’s past to run away from.
On the contrary, in the PA’s “terrocracy,” the more you kill, the greater the respect you are given in life — and in death.
An additional homage to Al-Amour was made by Fatah’s “Shabiba” youth movement:
Fatah Deputy Chairman and Fatah Central Committee member Mahmoud Al-Aloul: “These Martyrs, Rashida [Mughrabi], and Riyad [Al-Amour], are among the patient ones fighting for their people, seeking freedom and independence for this Palestinian people.” …
Fatah Shabiba Youth Movement Nablus District Coordinator Rawhi Oudeh: “The message is a message of loyalty to their sacrifices, and a message of loyalty to keep their wills, and it is also a message that if Rashida and Riyad have departed in body, they will remain as a path, an idea, and an essence in the eyes, hearts, and conscience of the Fatah youth.”
[Official PA TV News, April 4, 2026]
Itamar Marcus is the Founder and Director of Palestinian Media Watch (PMW). Ahron Shapiro is a contributor to PMW, where a version of this article first appeared.
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Proposed Antisemitism Laws in France, Italy Stir Free Speech Debate
Procession arrives at Place des Terreaux with a banner reading, “Against Antisemitism, for the Republic,” during the march against antisemitism, in Lyon, France, June 25, 2024. Photo: Romain Costaseca / Hans Lucas via Reuters Connect
French and Italian lawmakers are due to vote on new laws defining antisemitism, proposed in the wake of a surge in anti-Jewish incidents but which critics say could be used to censor criticism of Israel.
The French law, which is scheduled to be debated on Thursday, proposes to sanction “implicitly” justifying terrorism, calling for the destruction of a state recognized by France, and comparisons of Israel to the Nazis.
The Italian bill, if adopted, would make Italy the first country to write into law the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA) definition of antisemitism, which lists certain criticisms of Israel as examples of antisemitism.
DEFINING ANTISEMITISM IN LAW
Proponents of the laws point to the historic rise in antisemitism after Israel began its military campaign in Gaza following the Hamas-led invasion of and massacre across southern Israel on Oct. 7, 2023.
Critics – including some rights groups, academics, and left-wing politicians – say that they will censor legitimate activism for Palestinian rights and contribute to conflating Jews with the state of Israel.
“The [IHRA] definition confuses what is permitted speech – and that is criticism of Israel as a state – with what is prohibited speech, which is antisemitism and racial and religious incitement to violence,” UN special rapporteur on free speech Irene Khan said.
The French law, which references the IHRA definition without fully adopting it, contained vague language, she added.
The Italian bill was approved by a large majority in the Upper House last month and is expected to begin its passage through the Lower House on Thursday. The French law has lost some political backing following a petition on the French parliamentary website signed by more than 700,000 people.
SHARP RISE IN INCIDENTS SINCE OCT. 7 MASSACRE
In Italy over two years from 2023, antisemitism rose by 100 percent to a record 963 incidents in 2025, according to the Italian Antisemitism Observatory. By comparison, there were 877 recorded incidents in 2024, preceded by 453 such outrages in 2023 and just 241 in 2022.
In France, antisemitism remained at alarmingly high levels last year, with 1,320 incidents recorded nationwide, according to the French Interior Ministry. Although the total number of antisemitic outrages in 2025 fell by 16 percent compared to 2024’s second highest ever total of 1,570 cases and 2023’s record high of 1,676 incidents, the ministry warned that antisemitism remained “historically high.” There were 436 antisemitic acts recorded in 2022, before the Oct. 7 atrocities.
France’s human rights commission, the CNCDH, has said that antisemitic acts in France regularly peak in relation to operations carried out by the Israeli army.
The commission, which was not consulted for the law, wrote to MPs and the prime minister in January to warn of the dangers of conflating “the hatred of Jews and the hatred of the state of Israel.”
Responding to this warning, Caroline Yadan, the French MP proposing the law, said that her text aimed to tackle “new forms of antisemitism” and that the “essentialization that Jews equal Israel exists in today’s society.”
The Israel-Hamas war has led to a wave of anti-Israel, pro-Hamas demonstrations around the world, which Israel and its supporters say are antisemitic.
Protesters say their criticism of Israel and its actions in Gaza should not be conflated with antisemitism.
Livia Ottolenghi, representative of the Union of Jewish Communities in Italy, said the new law was necessary and did not prevent criticism of Israel.
“In Italy, we do not live well,” she said. “Our children have bars on their school windows; when they go out, they must be escorted.”
IHRA DEFINITION OF ANTISEMITISM
The IHRA working definition of antisemitism has been adopted by 45 countries as a guide but has not previously been written into law anywhere.
IHRA — an intergovernmental organization comprising dozens of countries — adopted the “working definition” of antisemitism in 2016. Since then, the definition has been widely accepted by Jewish groups and lawmakers across the political spectrum, and it is now used by hundreds of governing institutions, including the US State Department, European Union, and United Nations. Law enforcement also uses it as a tool for matters such as hate-crime investigations and sentencing.
According to the definition, antisemitism “is a certain perception of Jews, which may be expressed as hatred toward Jews. Rhetorical and physical manifestations of antisemitism are directed toward Jewish or non-Jewish individuals and/or their property, toward Jewish community institutions and religious facilities.”
It provides 11 specific, contemporary examples of antisemitism in public life, the media, schools, the workplace, and in the religious sphere. Beyond classic antisemitic behavior associated with the likes of the medieval period and Nazi Germany, the examples include denial of the Holocaust and newer forms of antisemitism targeting Israel such as demonizing the Jewish state, denying its right to exist, and holding it to standards not expected of any other democratic state.
The Council of Europe Human Rights Commissioner Michael O’Flaherty said he viewed the IHRA definition as a useful tool but was concerned about its application, especially in Germany.
“To somehow attribute responsibility for the actions of a government to the Jewish community in Europe is totally unacceptable, and indeed, it does raise the specter of antisemitism,” he said. “But to somehow conflate any criticism of Israel with antisemitism is ridiculous.”
Sarya Kabbani, a French-Syrian woman, was put on trial under existing laws on antisemitism over carrying banners that drew parallels between Israeli politicians and Nazi Germany at a protest in Paris in December 2023. The 67-year-old, whose husband is Jewish, was later acquitted by a court.
“It is freedom of expression to be able to say that Israel is committing war crimes, is committing genocide, is carrying out ethnic cleansing, is occupying,” said the activist, who will join demonstrations against the French law this week.