Members of the Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps. Photo: Wikimedia Commons.

i24 News – An Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps official plotted to assassinate Israel’s ambassador to Mexico, i24NEWS has learned. The existence of the plot was confirmed by a US official and acknowledged by Israel’s foreign affairs ministry.

Hasan Izadi, an Iran-based officer in the IRGC’s Quds Force, previously worked out of the Iranian embassy in Venezuela, serving as second advisor. The Quds Force, akin to the American CIA, is responsible for Iran’s extraterritorial operations, supporting its terror proxies throughout the Middle East and around the world.

Izadi, who uses the alias Masood Rahnema, engaged in activities targeting senior US and Israeli officials, and while in Venezuela maintained communication with the Iran-proxy terror group Hezbollah in Lebanon.

The scheme to assassinate Ambassador Einat Kranz Neiger, Israel’s emissary in Mexico City, was initiated at the end of 2024 and remained active through the first half of this year, a US official said.

“The plot was contained and does not pose a current threat. This is just the latest in a long history of Iran’s global lethal targeting of diplomats, journalists, dissidents, and anyone who disagrees with them, something that should deeply worry every country where there is an Iranian presence,” the official added.

Izadi has traveled extensively throughout Latin America, where he operates a network of informants, i24NEWS learned. While based in Caracas in 2021, Izadi and Col. Hossein Kiani-Mordi, Iran’s military attaché, contacted dissidents from the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, known as FARC, to coordinate attacks throughout Latin America against senior US and Israeli officials.

Izadi is pictured in a May 24, 2024 Instagram post on the account of the Iranian embassy in Caracas, shaking hands with Venezuelan leader Nicolás Maduro as part of a series of photos taken at a tribute for the late Iranian President Ebrahim Raisi.

Izadi worked in tandem with Majid Dastjani Farahani and Mohammad Mahdi Khanpour Ardestani, both Iranian intelligence officers for whom the FBI is seeking information on their targeting and recruitment activities. Both are thought to have attempted to recruit US persons in their plots against American government officials, i24NEWS learned.

In a statement sent to i24NEWS, the Israeli ministry of foreign affairs said, “We thank the security and law enforcement services in Mexico for thwarting a terrorist network directed by Iran that sought to attack Israel’s ambassador in Mexico.”

The ministry added that “The Israeli security and intelligence community will continue to work tirelessly, in full cooperation with security and intelligence agencies around the world, to thwart terrorist threats from Iran and its proxies against Israeli and Jewish targets worldwide.”

In the opening lines of his recently published memoir, the pianist Sir Andras Schiff, born to Hungarian-Jewish parents in 1953, writes, “To begin with there is silence, and music comes out of silence. Then comes the miracle of highly varied, progressive forms growing out of sounds and structures. After that, the silence returns.”

Yet at the start of Schiff’s rendition of Beethoven’s Fifth Piano Concerto with the Israel Philharmonic last week at the Cité de la Musique in Paris, music did not come out of silence. Instead, what came out of silence was the hiss of flares followed by gasps, shouts and insults when four members of the audience tried to interrupt the opening of the concerto.

According to an official communiqué from the Philharmonie de Paris, the protesters twice lit flares while walking towards the stage, trailing smoke and sparks behind them. Schiff and the conductor, Lahav Shani, left the stage, while several audience members confronted the protesters. Altercations quickly followed and all four protesters were soon removed by a security detail from the auditorium and subsequently arrested by the police.

Once calm had returned, Schiff and Shani returned to the stage and picked up again at the beginning of the Beethoven concerto. Not surprisingly, there soon followed reviews — not of the performance but of the protest. Political and public figures across the ideological spectrum did not hesitate to weigh in.

On the far right, Marine Le Pen, in her continuing effort to efface the antisemitic origins of her political party, the National Rally, quickly added her voice to the cacophony. “The incidents provoked last night by antisemitic activists on the extreme left could have turned into a tragedy.” Turning this tragedy into comedy, the daughter of Jean-Marie Le Pen warned on X that such “acts are intolerable and calls for an exemplary response from our courts.”  (Le Pen continues to denounce, it should be noted, those same courts that recently found her guilty of the embezzlement of campaign funds.)

As for the extreme left, they turned the cacophony into what could only be called a kakaphony. In a television interview, a spokesperson for Defiant France, Manon Aubry, refused to condemn what she described as “incidents.” More tellingly, she then reminded listeners that the target of the protest “was not just any artist.” Instead, they were “artists who represent the Israeli state.”

Not to be outdone, the movement’s leader, Jean-Luc Mélenchon, acknowledged the situation had gotten “a bit out-of-hand.” But you cannot, he continued, prevent people from protesting a genocide. “One can regret last night’s incidents, but I regret the genocide more than the affaire at the Philharmonie. Mais voilà, that’s how it is. There are consequences for international actions.”

Mais non, that is not how it should be — especially, as Vladimir Jankélévitch would have added, at a concert hall. In 1961, this French-Jewish philosopher published La musique et l’ineffable, which was subsequently translated and published in 2003 as Music and the Ineffable, Though he did not have such political protests in mind, Jankélévitch’s explanation of the ineffability of music reveals why a concert hall should have been the last place for such a protest, especially one that reduces the playing of music to the policies of a government.

According to the online Oxford dictionary, “ineffable” can denote something which is unspeakable because it is too shocking or too ugly to be expressed. But this is not how Jankélévitch understood the word. He distinguishes between the untellable — namely, things that cannot be spoken of, like death, because “there is absolutely nothing to say” — and the ineffable, which cannot be explained because “there are infinite and interminable things to be said of it.”

What I think Jankélévitch means is a feeling familiar to many of us when we write or read or talk or even reflect on music. We are left wordless after listening, say, to the opening credenza in Beethoven’s concerto, but we will insist on finding the words as we leave the concert hall.

And yet, writing about music is a weirdly futile exercise, one that Frank Zappa, it appears, compared to dancing about architecture. Both are equally nonsensical enterprises. Music exists on a plane where words are worse than useless; they always fail to convey what we feel while listening to the music.

This is why Jankélévitch would reject any attempt to find biographical meaning in the Fifth Piano Concerto, even though Beethoven composed the piece in Vienna in 1809, at the very moment that the French army under Napoleon was laying siege to the city. Beethoven had to take cover in the basement of his brother’s building, where the increasingly deaf composer shielded his ears with pillows from the constant bombardment from French cannons. Moreover, the authoritarian Napoleon represented the great threat to the ideal of liberty embraced by Beethoven.

Jankélévitch would also resist an effort to find historical parallels between now and then. If I, as a historian, suggested such a parallel — namely, that the concerto was composed in a context of war and death that resembles the experiences of war and death in Gaza — Jankélévitch would frown under his crown of silver hair. While music is a deeply meaningful experience, it is not, paradoxically, one that conveys a specific meaning, whether historical, moral or philosophical. And it is one that must be followed by silence.

All of this makes the protest at the concert hall not just witless and wanton, but also  bewildering. The activists tried to deny a certain group from making music — the most meaningful of activities — because, as Israelis and/or Jews, they were held to be complicit in their government’s war without mercy in Gaza. Here lies the true ineffability. The clearly antisemitic action by these protesters was defended, on the extreme left, by leaders who have long been antisemitic curious. To compound the ineffability of it all, the protesters were also denounced by the extreme right which still carries the stink of antisemitism.

In a word, both extremes are guilty of the Oxford definition of ineffability. In the case of Mélenchon, his sentiments are too vile for words, just as Le Pen’s motives are equally vile. If only silence would fall over both extremes so that music can again be heard

The post Why a concert hall should be the last place for a protest — particularly an antisemitic one like this appeared first on The Forward.

It has become exceedingly difficult to get a bowl of kosher matzo ball soup in my L.A. neighborhood. I’m reminded of this every few months, when a cold or a craving reminds me what we lost when Pico Kosher Deli, established in 1968 about a mile from my apartment, closed for good early in the pandemic. It’s not just the soup, of course. It’s the whole kosher deli experience — bulging pastrami sandwiches, a waitress with a notepad, frilly toothpicks.

The traditional kosher deli is dying, if not dead, and not just in L.A. Kosher Ashkenazi fare is officially passé, a cuisine category today’s balabustas — at least my millennial Modern Orthodox cohort — have abandoned. At the kosher markets, Manischewitz products are relegated to a dusty corner, the “kosher aisle” of the kosher grocer. And at surviving delis like Katz’s and Canter’s, kosher is not a religious certification. It is, simply, a nostalgia cue immediately preceding the word “style.”

Fortunately, a wave of new, smartly packaged foodstuffs capitalizing on that nostalgia has arrived to restore my Ashkenazi birthright, or at least my former sodium levels. In the years since my neighborhood deli closed, direct-to-consumer brands have launched to hawk kosher potato latke crisps, kosher matzo chips and kosher jarred charoset (lovingly named Schmutz). The newcomer that I sprung for was a kosher instant matzo ball soup called Nooish. A box of four stout, colorful soup cups arrived about a week after I ordered them online.

To find out why these shelf-stable products have taken off while delis languish, I called Nate Rosen, whose official title — creator of the consumer brands newsletter Express Checkout — obscures the coolness of his job, which largely consists of reviewing new snacks on TikTok. According to Rosen, the kosher renaissance was part of a broader surge of food startups during the pandemic, when free time and disposable income were suddenly in abundance. It was inevitable someone would find the Jewish angle on the trend.

“There’s a market for it,” Rosen said. “There’s dedicated spots for it [on shelves]. And I think especially now, people are proud to be Jewish and proud to show that off a little bit.”

Nooish’s instant soup, ready in just a couple minutes, doesn’t come with booth seating. But taste-wise, comfort-wise and deli-wise, it’s a worthy adaptation of the experience. The kneidlach — three to a cup, each a bit larger than a Ping-Pong ball and floating in a salty brown broth, hold their form but obey your spoon. (There’s no chicken, and the soup is certified pareve.) At four-for-$36, the instant soup is probably too pricey for your kid’s lunchbox, and not substantial enough for an adult meal. But in a pinch — say, a cold or a craving — it can be transporting.

If the kosher deli is out, what’s in? The answer awaited me at Hatch Kitchen, a new kosher meat restaurant, where earlier this week I watched a barista prepare a fancy smoothie. Elaborate, astonishingly expensive and often named after celebrities, fancy smoothies are an L.A. institution, the lifeblood of the influencer class. The most notorious of these drinks, the upscale grocery chain Erewhon’s Hailey Bieber smoothie, contains strawberries and dates but also vanilla collagen powder and something called sea moss gel. It costs $20.

Hatch, I was told, makes something similar, the strawberry-based “Or-gan-ic” (the middle syllable also the Hebrew word for garden), which the restaurant calls its “most viral smoothie.” No sea moss gel, but the menu touts “anti-inflammatory” ingredients that include flax seeds and hibiscus. It’s $12, which sounds like a lot if you’ve never spent $20 on a smoothie before, and like a bargain if you just did, and for that one you’d had to look a cashier in the eye and utter the name of Justin Bieber’s wife. (At Hatch, you order from an iPad.)

Hatch’s fancy smoothie — which is also a photogenic one — models the dominant trend in contemporary kosher dining: pop-culture mimicry. Across from where the Pico Kosher Deli once stood, you can order a kosher crunchwrap supreme — a Taco Bell menu item — from a Mexican street food place called Lenny’s Casita. Kosher cafes still serve bagels, but people go for the avocado toast. It’s kosher dining’s hypebeast era, if you can afford it; Lenny’s crunchwrap with beef runs $30. I’m not sure how close the knockoff is to the real thing, or whether proximity really matters. Most customers will never taste the alternative.

There’s a tension inherent in these appropriated menu items — affirming both the desirability of secular culture and the Jewish laws forbidding it. Cultural diffusion and communal retreat. Assimilation and resistance. Meanwhile, the ancestral cuisine, which emerged out of kosher dietary laws, has been simultaneously rejected and idealized. You can’t find too many kosher delis, but TikTok has popularized pickle fountains. (Wait until they find out about hamantaschen.)

I was sort of sad about this state of affairs until I spoke to David Sax, who was dismayed enough about the decline of delis to write a book about it. He explained that Jewish deli food developed as a way of transforming European deli methods and flavors, which were more often made with pork, into kosher adaptations. The corned beef sandwich was the original fancy smoothie, which means our kosher crunchwrap might become tomorrow’s matzo ball soup. The comfort food changes, but the people endure.

The post What Hailey Bieber smoothies and instant matzo ball soup reveal about American Jewish taste appeared first on The Forward.