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In Turkey, a festival revives a jewel of the Sephardic world and aims to break stereotypes
IZMIR, Turkey (JTA) — Prague has the dubious honor of being chosen by Adolf Hitler to be a record of what he hoped would be the vanquished Jews of Europe. The Nazis left many of the city’s synagogues and Jewish sites relatively intact, intending to showcase them as the remnants of an extinct culture.
That has made Prague a popular tourist destination for both Jewish travelers and others interested in Jewish history since the fall of the Iron Curtain: the city provides an uncommon look into the pre-war infrastructure of Ashkenazi Europe.
Could Izmir, Turkey’s third largest city, become a Sephardic version, in terms of history and tourism? That’s the goal for Nesim Bencoya, director of the Izmir Jewish Heritage project.
The city, once known in Greek as Smyrna, has had a Jewish presence since antiquity, with early church documents mentioning Jews as far back as the second century AD. Like elsewhere in the Ottoman Empire, though, its community grew exponentially with the influx of Sephardic Jews who came after their expulsion from Spain.
At its peak, the city was home to around 30,000 Jews and was the hometown of Jewish artists, writers and rabbis — from the esteemed Pallache and Algazii rabbinical families, to the musician Dario Marino, to the famously false messiah, Shabbetai Zevi, whose childhood home still stands in Izmir today.
Today, fewer than 1,300 remain. The establishment of the state of Israel, coupled with a century of economic and political upheaval, led to the immigration of the majority of Turkish Jewry.
“From the 17th century, Izmir was a center for Sephardic Jewry,” Bencoya told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. “We can’t recreate that, but we cannot forget that either.”
Izmir is located on Turkey’s Aegean coast. (David I. Klein)
Celebrating in the former Jewish quarter
Bencoya, who is in his late 60s, was born in Izmir but spent most of his adult life in Israel, where he led the Haifa Cinematheque, but he returned to Izmir 13 years ago to helm the heritage project, which has worked to highlight the the culture and history of Izmir’s Jewish community.
Over nine days in December that included the week of Hanukkah, thousands attended the annual Sephardic culture festival that he has organized since 2018. The festival included concerts of Jewish and Ladino music, traditional food tastings, lectures on Izmir’s Jewish community, and — since it coincided with Hanukkah and also a Shabbat — both a menorah lighting ceremony and havdalah ceremony were conducted with explanations from Izmir’s leading cantor, Nesim Beruchiel.
This year’s festival marked a turning point: it was the first in which organizers were able to show off several of the centuries-old synagogues that the project — with funding from the European Union and the local municipality — has been restoring.
The synagogues, most of which are clustered around a street still called Havra Sokak (havra being the Turkish spelling of the Hebrew word chevra, or congregation) represent a unique piece of cultural heritage.
Nesim Bencoya speaks from his office next to the restored Sinyora Synagogue in Izmir. (David I. Klein)
Once upon a time, the street was the heart of the Jewish quarter or “Juderia,” but today it is right in the middle of Izmir’s Kemeralti Bazaar, a bustling market district stretching over 150 acres where almost anything can be bought and sold. On Havra Sokak, the merchants hock fresh fruits, and hopefully fresher fish. One street to the south one can find all manner of leather goods; one to the north has markets for gold, silver and other precious metals; one to the west has coffee shops. In between them all are other shops selling everything from crafts to tchotchkes to kitchenware to lingerie.
Several mosques and a handful of churches dot the area, but the synagogues revive a unique character of the district that had been all but lost.
“The synagogues here were built under the light of Spain. But in Spain today, there are only two major historic synagogues, Toledo and Cordoba, and they are big ones. You don’t have smaller ones. Here we have six on one block, built with the memory of what was there by those who left Spain,” Bencoya said.
Those synagogues have been home to major events in Jewish history — such as when Shabbetei Zvi broke into Izmir’s Portuguese Synagogue one Sabbath morning, drove out his opponents and declared himself the messiah (he cultivated a large following but was later imprisoned and forced to convert to Islam). The synagogue, known in Turkish as Portekez, was among those restored by the project.
Today, only two of Izmir’s synagogues are in regular use by its Jewish community, but the others that were restored are now available as exhibition and event spaces.
Educating non-Jews
Hosting the festival within Izmir’s unique synagogues has an additional purpose, since the overwhelming majority of the attendees were not Jewish.
“Most of the people who come to the festival have never been to a synagogue, maybe a small percentage of them have met a Jew once in their lives,” Bencoya said.
That’s particularly important in a country where antisemitic beliefs are far from uncommon. In a 2015 study by the Anti-Defamation League, 71% of respondents from Turkey believe in some antisemitic stereotypes.
The festival included concerts of Jewish and Ladino music, traditional food tastings and lectures on Izmir’s Jewish community.(David I. Klein)
“This festival is not for Jewish people to know us, but for non-Jews,” Bencoya said. Now, “Hundreds of Turkish Muslim people have come to see us, to listen to our holidays and taste what we do.”
Kayra Ergen, a native of Izmir who attended a Ladino concert and menorah lighting event at the end of the festival, told JTA that until a year ago, he had no idea how Jewish Izmir once was.
“I know that Anatolia is a multicultural land, and also Turkey is, but this religion, by which I mean Jewish people, left this place a long time ago because of many bad events. But it’s good to remember these people, and their roots in Izmir,” Ergen said. “This is so sad and lame to say out loud, but I didn’t know about this — that only 70 years ago, 60% of this area here in Konak [the district around Kemeralti] was Jewish. Today I believe only 1,300 remain. This is not good. But we must do whatever we can and this festival is a good example of showing the love between cultures.”
“I think it’s good that we’re respecting each other in here,” said Zeynep Uslu, another native of Izmir. “A lot of different cultures and a lot of different people. It’s good that we’re together here celebrating something so special.”
Izmir’s history as a home for minorities has not been all rosy. At the end of the Ottoman period, the city was around half Greek, a tenth Jewish and a tenth Armenian, while the remainder were Turkish Muslims and an assortment of foreigners. In the Greco-Turkish war of 1919-1922 — remembered in Turkey as the Turkish War of Independence — the Greek and Armenian quarters of Izmir were burned to the ground after the Turkish army retook the city from the Greek forces, killing tens of thousands. A mass exodus of the survivors followed, but the Jewish and Muslim portions of the city were largely unharmed.
Izmir is not the only city in Turkey which has seen its synagogues restored in recent years. Notable projects are being completed in Edirne, a city on the Turkish western border near Bulgaria, and Kilis, on its southeastern border near Syria. Unlike Izmir, though, no Jews remain in either of those cities today, and many have accused the project of being a tool for President Recep Tayyip Erdogan’s government to assuage accusations of antisemitism, without actually dealing with living Jews.
Losing Ladino and a ‘quiet’ mindset
Bencoya lamented that he is among the last generation for whom Ladino — the Judeo-Spanish language traditionally spoken by Sephardic Jews, but only spoken by tens of thousands today — was at least a part of his childhood.
“When you lose language, it’s not only technical, it’s not only vocabulary, it’s a whole world and a way of thinking,” Bencoya said.
The project is challenging a local Jewish mentality as well. Minority groups in Izmir, especially Jews, “have for a long time preferred not to be seen, not to be felt,” according to Bencoya.
That mindset has been codified in the Turkish Jewish community’s collective psyche in the form of a Ladino word, “kayedes,” which means something along the lines of “shhh,” “be quiet,” or “keep your head down.”
“This is the exact opposite that I want to do with this festival — to be felt, to raise awareness of my being,” Bencoya said.
The Bikur Holim Synagogue is one of the few still functioning in Izmir. (David I. Klein)
One way of doing that, he added, was having the festival refer to the community’s identity “as Yahudi and not Musevi!” Both are Turkish words that refer to Jews: the former having the same root as the English word Jew — the Hebrew word Yehuda or Judea — while the latter means “follower of Moses.”
“Yahudi, Musevi, Ibrani [meaning Hebrew, in Turkish] — they all mean the same thing, but in Turkey, they say Musevi because it sounds nicer,” Bencoya said. “To Yahudi there are a lot of negative superlatives — dirty Yahudi, filthy Yahudi, and this and that. So I insist on saying that I am Yahudi, because people have a lot of pre-judgements about the name Yahudi. So if you have prejudgements about me, let’s open them and talk about them.”
“I am not so romantic that I can eliminate all antisemitism, but if I can eliminate some of the prejudgements, then I can live a little more at peace,” he added.
So far, he feels the festival is a successful first step.
“The non-Jewish community of Izmir is fascinated,” Bencoya said. “If you look on Facebook and Instagram, they are talking about it, they are fighting over tickets, which sell out almost immediately.”
Now, he is only wondering how next year he will be able to fit more people into the small and aged synagogues.
“For Turkey, [the festival] is very important because Turkey can be among the enlightened nations of the world, only by being aware of the differences between groups of people, such as Jews, Christians, others, and Muslims,” he said.
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Trump Says US Will Intervene if Iran Kills Protesters Amid Regime Crackdown: ‘Locked and Loaded’
US President Donald Trump attends a press conference, as he makes an announcement about the Navy’s “Golden Fleet” at Mar-a-lago in Palm Beach, Florida, US, Dec. 22, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Jessica Koscielniak
US President Donald Trump threatened on Friday to come to the aid of protesters in Iran if security forces fire on them, days into unrest that has left several dead and posed the biggest internal threat to Iranian authorities in years.
“If Iran shoots and violently kills peaceful protesters, which is their custom, the United States of America will come to their rescue, he said in a social media post. “We are locked and loaded and ready to go.”
The United States bombed Iranian nuclear facilities in June, joining an Israeli air campaign that targeted Tehran’s atomic program and military leadership.
Responding to Trump’s comments, top Iranian official Ali Larijani warned that US interference in domestic Iranian issues would amount to a destabilization of the entire Middle East. Iran backs proxy terrorist forces in Gaza, Iraq, Yemen, and Lebanon, among other places.
“Trump must realize that US intervention in this internal matter will lead to destabilizing the entire region and destroying American interests,” Larijani posted on X. “The American people must know that Trump is the one who started this adventure, and they should pay attention to the safety of their soldiers.”
Ali Shamkhani, a senior adviser to Iranian Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, similarly warned on social media that Iran’s national security was a “red line, not material for adventurist tweets.”
“Every hand of intervention that approaches Iranian security under any pretext will be cut off with a regrettable response before it arrives,” he posted.
The comments came as a local official in western Iran where several deaths were reported was cited by state media as warning that any unrest or illegal gatherings would be met “decisively and without leniency,” raising the likelihood of escalation.
TRUMP COMMENTS
This week’s protests, sparked by soaring inflation and other economic hardships, are so far smaller than some previous bouts of unrest in Iran but have spread across the country, with deadly confrontations between demonstrators and security forces focused in western provinces.
State-affiliated media and rights groups have reported at least six deaths since Wednesday, including one man who authorities said was a member of the Basij paramilitary affiliated with the elite Revolutionary Guards.
The Islamic Republic’s clerical leadership has seen off repeated eruptions of unrest in recent decades, often quelling protests with heavy security measures and mass arrests. But economic problems may leave authorities more vulnerable now.
This week’s protests are the biggest since nationwide demonstrations triggered by the death of a young woman in custody in 2022 paralyzed Iran for weeks, with rights groups reporting hundreds killed.
Trump did not specify what sort of action the US could take in support of the protests.
Washington has long imposed broad financial sanctions on Tehran, in particular since Trump’s first term when, in 2018, he pulled the US out of Iran‘s nuclear deal with world powers and declared a “maximum pressure” campaign against Tehran.
US presidents have been wary of engaging militarily in Iran, but in June, Trump ordered airstrikes against Iranian nuclear facilities. Trump at the time ruled out sending any ground force into the Islamic Republic.
GUNSHOTS, PROTEST CHANTS
Video verified by Reuters showed dozens of people gathered in front of a burning police station overnight, as gunshots sporadically rang out and people shouted “shameless, shameless” at the authorities.
In the southern city of Zahedan, where Iran‘s Baluch minority predominates, the human rights news group Hengaw reported that protesters had chanted slogans including “Death to the dictator.”
Hengaw has reported 29 arrests so far over the unrest, mostly in the west, and including 14 members of Iran‘s Kurdish minority.
State television also reported the arrest of an unspecified number of people in another western city, Kermanshah, accused of manufacturing petrol bombs and homemade pistols.
The deaths acknowledged by official or semi-official Iranian media have been in the small western cities of Lordegan and Kuhdasht. Hengaw also reported that a man was killed in Fars province in central Iran, though state news sites denied this.
Reuters could not verify all the reports of unrest, arrests or deaths.
MAXIMUM US PRESSURE
Trump spoke a few days after he met Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, a longtime advocate of military action against Iran, and warned of fresh strikes if Tehran resumed nuclear or ballistic work.
A spokesperson for the US State Department said Washington would “continue to put maximum pressure on the regime” in Iran, accusing Iranian authorities of “squandering billions on terrorist proxies and nuclear weapons research.”
The Israeli and US strikes in June last year have cranked up the pressure on Iranian authorities, as have the ousting of Syria’s Bashar al-Assad, a close Tehran ally, and the Israeli pounding of its main regional partner, Lebanon’s Hezbollah.
Iran continues to support groups in Iraq that have previously fired rockets at US forces in the country, as well as the Houthi group that controls much of northern Yemen.
IRAN‘S PRESIDENT ACKNOWLEDGES FAILINGS
During the latest unrest, Iran‘s elected President Masoud Pezeshkian has struck a conciliatory tone, pledging dialogue with protest leaders over the cost-of-living crisis, even as rights groups said security forces had fired on demonstrators.
Speaking on Thursday, before Trump threatened US action, Pezeshkian acknowledged that failings by the authorities were behind the crisis.
“We are to blame … Do not look for America or anyone else to blame. We must serve properly so that people are satisfied with us … It is us who have to find a solution to these problems,” he said.
Pezeshkian’s government is trying a program of economic liberalization, but one of its measures, deregulating some currency exchange, has contributed to a sharp decline in the value of Iran‘s rial on the unofficial market.
The sliding currency has compounded inflation, which has hovered above 36% since March even by official estimates, in an economy battered by Western sanctions.
Conservative cleric Ayatollah Ahmad Alamolhoda said protests over the economy were legitimate, but warned demonstrators they “should not be used as a pretext by the enemy to incite sedition.”
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Yemen’s Southern Separatists Call for Path to Independence Amid Fighting Over Key Region
A flag of the UAE-backed separatist Southern Transitional Council (STC) flutters on a military patrol truck, at the site of a rally by STC supporters in Aden, Yemen, Jan. 1, 2026. Photo: REUTERS/Fawaz Salman
Yemen’s southern separatist movement said on Friday it aimed to hold a referendum on independence from the north in two years, following its seizure of swathes of the country last month in a move that triggered a major feud between Gulf powers.
Southern Transitional Council leader Aidarous al-Zubaidi called on the international community to sponsor talks between concerned parties in the south and north on a path and mechanisms that “guarantee rights of the people of the south.”
The announcement comes as the Saudi-backed internationally recognized government moved to recapture the crucial region of Hadramout from the STC, which is backed by the United Arab Emirates.
RIFT BETWEEN SAUDI ARABIA AND UAE
The STC’s sudden seizure of swathes of southern and eastern Yemen from the government in early December revealed a bitter rift between Saudi Arabia and the UAE and caused a major fracture in the coalition fighting the Iran-backed Houthi movement, which holds Yemen’s capital Sanaa and the heavily populated northwest.
Earlier on Friday, the Hadramout governor under the internationally recognized government said he had launched a “peaceful” operation to restore control over the area.
Saudi airstrikes hit an airport in Hadramout, according to a spokesperson for the province’s tribes, and the governor said his forces had taken control of the most important military base in the area.
Oil-producing Hadramout borders Saudi Arabia and many prominent Saudis trace their origins to the province, lending it cultural and historical significance for the kingdom. Its capture by the STC last month was regarded by the Saudis as a threat.
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What’s funny about living next to a Nazi?
This article contains spoilers for the film My Neighbor Adolf.
In the oddball fiction film My Neighbor Adolf, a Holocaust survivor living in 1960s South America believes his new neighbor is Adolf Hitler; in fact he’s so sure, he sets out to prove it. As he researches and compares notes, we learn a lot about Hitler — his aversion to drinking and smoking, his short temper, his love for chess. Yet somehow, the film has little to say about the Holocaust itself.
The film, directed by Leon Prudovsky, opens in 1934; title cards tell us, vaguely, that we are in Eastern Europe, but savvy audiences will be able to recognize it is Poland from the language. There, our protagonist, Marek Polsky (David Hayman), is a champion chess player with a big loving family. Then, the film flashes forward to 1960; now, he lives alone in South America — exactly where is unclear — the sole survivor of his family.
The film’s writers have an aversion to specifics. Most of Marek’s experience during the war is obscured, with the exception of a few small hints. When he’s in the shower, a number tattooed on his arm is visible. He asks his neighbor Hermann Herzog (Udo Kier) to keep his dog — a German Shepherd, of course — under control, because, he says, “I don’t like dogs,” an allusion to guard dogs in concentration camps. That’s about it.
Not all Holocaust films go into graphic details about the horrors their characters experienced. But they generally provide enough basic details to give the story some substance, like what camps they were at, when they were separated from their family, how they ended up in their new country or what kinds of emotional scars they now bear. My Neighbor Adolf skips all of this, making the Holocaust more of a rushed plot point than a source of emotional depth. Even Marek’s Jewish identity feels sidelined; it’s primarily limited to his visits to the Israeli embassy — where he is trying to convince officials that Hermann is Hitler — his penchant for homemade pickles and a few books he owns in Hebrew.
Still, whatever unspecified horror Marek went through in the Holocaust, it made him bitter and paranoid. He decides Hermann must be Hitler after seeing the man’s eyes, which he usually hides behind sunglasses; Marek believes he met Hitler at a 1934 chess tournament and tells the Israeli embassy he could never forget those eyes. While doing intensive research on Hitler — including buying a copy of Mein Kampf — Marek also notes that Hermann shares other qualities with Hitler, such as being left-handed and enjoying painting.
In order to get closer to Hermann and prove he is Hitler, Marek strikes up a friendship with his neighbor. In a series of events that feel more fitting for a buddy comedy than a film about Hitler, the two play chess, share pickles and even spy on an undressing woman together (coincidentally). For the sake of finding the truth, it makes sense that Marek would be willing to play a chess game or two with the person he believes is responsible for the Holocaust. But it seems improbable that it would go as far as sharing heartwarming conversations.
The film’s eventual big reveal is as underdeveloped as the rest of the film: Hermann tells Marek that he was forced to be a Hitler impersonator and now makes money from Nazi fanatics around the world. But he doesn’t quite explain how or to what end. Did the Nazi government force him? Did a non-governmental Nazi fan club see a way to market Hitler?
If the premise wasn’t already confusing enough, Hermann also reveals it was actually him, not Hitler, at Marek’s long-ago chess tournament. Is the film suggesting Hitler died before 1945, and a body double was used to keep the Reich alive? Or was Hermann just a stand-in for Hitler at events the Fuhrer didn’t want to actually attend?
Either way, this implies Hermann was cooperating with the Nazis. Yet for some reason, this revelation seems to win Marek over. Though at the beginning of the film Marek mutters “Bloody Krauts” under his breath multiple times every time he sees his neighbor, even before suspecting he is Hitler, by the end, Marek has become fond of Hermann, even going so far as to warn him that the Israeli Embassy is sending officials to his house.
It seems as though the movie wants us to think that, in the end, both men are victims of the Third Reich in their own ways. They have more in common than they have differences. It’s a lesson in empathy and humanity.
Except for one problem: Hermann is an antisemite.
In what is apparently meant to be a heartwarming moment, he tells Marek: “You may be a Jew, Mr. Polsky, but you are a good neighbor.” But, of course, this indicates that Hermann shares the prejudices that led to the slaughter of Marek’s family. Yes, he’s not the Fuhrer, but how much does that actually matter when the ideology is the same? Even Hitler had Jewish friends — that doesn’t negate his actions. Perhaps Hermann is meant to be the embodiment of the culpability of every German, that they all could be Hitler no matter how congenial they are. But even if that’s the case, it’s unclear how Marek, after losing his whole family due to the culpability of everyday citizens, is able to ignore the man’s prejudices and continue the friendship.
The expectation that Marek would ignore Hermann’s antisemitism trivializes the harm such beliefs can cause. An antisemite that likes homemade pickles is still an antisemite.
My Neighbor Adolf opens in theaters on January 9.
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