The Whiskey Bible: A Complete Guide to the World’s Greatest Spirit
By Noah Rothbaum
Workman, 640pp, $40

Ask an American to picture the origin of whisky and they will probably conjure up a bearded man in overalls emerging from the Appalachian woods, clutching a jug of moonshine with three Xs on the side.

Noah Rothbaum, the author of The Whiskey Bible, has a name for that cliché: the “Uncle Jesse theory” of whisky history, after the chaotic moonshiner on The Dukes of Hazzard. It’s also, he argues, almost completely wrong.

“For one thing, moonshine only exists because of tax law,” he told me when we spoke about the book. “You don’t get bootleg without a government to evade.”

Real American whisky — the kind that fills warehouses and balance sheets and, until 1933, doctors’ prescription pads — was an immigrant industry, built in cities and river towns and railroad hubs. It grew when America stopped being a rum-drinking colony and became a rye-drinking republic.

Before 1776, the young colonies distilled molasses from Caribbean sugar into rum. After independence, that molasses was politically tainted — too bound up with the British Empire and its trade routes. American farmers had land and grain, not sugar cane. So they turned to whisky.

Then a tiny insect changed everything. When phylloxera destroyed vineyards across Europe in the 19th century, wine and brandy became scarce. Doctors who’d been happily prescribing cognac as a cure-all suddenly needed alternatives. Medical journals in Britain began recommending whisky as a respectable substitute. Demand soared. As Rothbaum writes in his Bible, phylloxera “transformed whiskey from a farm product to an international best seller.”

“Right at the moment when whisky is taking off, you also have this massive wave of Jewish immigration to America,” Rothbaum told me. “And they bring with them exactly the skill set the new industry needs.”

A Jewish story

What’s a nice Jewish boy doing writing a Bible? Or writing about booze at all? There’s nothing actually sacrilegious about the title of The Whiskey Bible in a series whose expert guides include The Wine Bible and The Beer Bible. More transgressive, perhaps, is how close it hews to a kind of competition — Jim Murray’s best-selling, canonical, annual tasting guide, the Whisky Bible. But having a Jewish critic in the top tier of American whisky coverage is actually deeply appropriate.

Indeed when I asked Rothbaum, the spirits editor at Men’s Journal, about it, he was enthusiastic about a personal historical connection to the industry: “Looking back, part of my family ran a restaurant in Warsaw and others in the Ukraine ran a boardinghouse so my conjecture is, maybe it had a distillery or at least, you know, in my looking back romanticizing the past, perhaps they were making some kind of booze there, too.”

But even if his conjecture has no basis in family reality, his story is no outlier. Rothbaum’s Whiskey Bible is a readable introduction and encyclopedic guide to the “world’s greatest spirit” that has its own tag at the Forward. The “Bible” is also a highly engaging guide to a surprisingly broad swath of history and science from George Washington (“America’s first celebrity distiller”) to bovine digestion – bourbon has to be made in a certain way to ensure that its leftovers can be used in feed lots for cows. As Rothbaum recently told a crowd at the 92Y, “everything through the lens of whisky is more fascinating.”

It’s a coffee table book, definitely released to be part of the holiday gift market. But, unlike much of that tranche, it’s a reference book that you — or your giftee — will actually enjoy referring to for years to come. It doesn’t taste test each distillery’s expressions (for that you need Murray) but it has all the background you could need. Want to know about Japanese whisky, there’s a section on that. Want to know whether whisky should be spelled with an “e” or not, there’s a very sensible section on that (spoiler: it doesn’t matter, but you should stick to one). Want to know about how Metallica’s Blackened whisky uses sonic waves in its maturation process — there’s a section on that too.

Part of the broader story — which Rothbaum stressed during his visit to the 92Y — is that Jews have been central in the American whisky story. Looking at POLIN: Museum of the History of Polish Jews in Poland you can see how Jews were disproportionately represented in the hospitality trade. That’s because in the Pale of Settlement, Jews were often barred from owning land, so they gravitated to the things they were allowed to touch: money, grain and booze.

“You see it over and over,” Rothbaum told the 92Y audience. ”Because of antisemitism in Europe, Jews were pushed into roles like collecting taxes, running inns, and overseeing alcohol production for the local noble. When they get to America, suddenly that work is not only useful — it’s welcome.”

In America, Jews were often merchants who later set up a distillery to supply their distribution network. Alternatively, existing distillers needed a liquor expert to scale up their business and Jews were cheap and ready to bring over European know-how. That first pattern repeats: A young man arrives, peddles wares from a pack, graduates to a general store, then to wholesaling and, eventually, to owning or running a distillery. Whichever way they were pushed, the Jews comprised such a major part of American whisky production that by the early 20th century, many of the biggest liquor companies in the country were owned or run by Jews.

Rothbaum rattles off the names the way other people recite old team lineups or film casts:

• The Bernheim brothers, who built one of the largest distilleries in America in the 1800s and launched the I.W. Harper brand — which is still on shelves today.
• The Shapira family in Kentucky, peddlers turned five-and-dime proprietors turned co-founders of Heaven Hill after Prohibition, makers of Evan Williams, Elijah Craig, and Rittenhouse Rye among others.
• The Rosens and Rosenstiels, running Schenley (long absorbed by Diageo the corporate drinks giant) by a few different names.
• The Bronfmans who ran the Seagram’s empire until they didn’t.
• The Goldring family, still at the helm of Sazerac, owners of Buffalo Trace.

“In all these little towns in Kentucky and the Midwest, Jews are a tiny percentage of the population,” Rothbaum says. “But a huge percentage of the booze business.”

Jews become so identified with alcohol that some of the most antisemitic, anti-immigrant figures of the early 20th century seized on Prohibition as a way to drive them out. Henry Ford and his allies, Rothbaum notes, didn’t just hate liquor; they hated the people who made it.

“That’s how famous Jews were for making alcohol,” he told me. “The people who didn’t like Jews tried to shut down alcohol to drive them away.”

And yet, when people lift their glasses today, almost no one thinks of whisky as a Jewish story.

The rule, not the exception

If Jews were so central to the industry, how did they vanish from its mythology? Part of the answer lies right on the label (another topic that Rothbaum wrote about in The Art of American Whiskey: A Visual History of the Nation’s Most Storied Spirit, Through 100 Iconic Labels).

“Somebody like Bernheim, in the late 1800s, can’t put ‘Bernheim’ on a bottle and expect it to sell,” Rothbaum explains. “So you get I.W. Harper instead — something that sounds safely Anglo.” Almost no one knew then or even knows now that I.W. comes from the initials of the founder Isaac Wolfe Bernheim.

For reasons of marketing and survival, Jewish distillers and owners hid behind WASPy brand identities. Despite its name, Old Fitzgerald is not the legacy of a charming Irishman but of Jewish distiller Solomon S.C. Herbst. The name “Old Fitzgerald,” Rothbaum argues, is practically a caricature of Irish respectability — a Gentile mask on a Jewish business.

After Prohibition, when all booze acquired a gangster sheen, there were even more incentives for upwardly mobile Jews to downplay the connection. Any Jewish involvement in illicit liquor trading was attributed to the useful religious exemption for kiddush wine.

So the Jewish role was sanded off both ends: Jews soft-pedaled their attachment to liquor; the whisky world packaged itself with mythologies of Scottish workmen, Irish storytellers, and, in America, the Uncle Jesse myth — that shirtless guy in the Appalachian holler. “When I first started writing about whisky, I knew about a couple of big Jewish names — the Shapiros, Louis Rosenstiel,” Rothbaum says. ”What I didn’t realize was that they weren’t the exceptions. They were the rule.”

I myself had bumped into the deep connection between Jews and whisky in North America when I noticed in 2010 that Glenmorangie was getting an Orthodox Union hecksher to prove it was kosher and set out to investigate. I went all the way to the Highlands the following spring to write about kosher scotch. Rothbaum told me that the key to that whole story was Glenmorangies ambassador David Blackmore and a whisky tasting a scant few miles from the Forward offices:

He’s Scottish, his wife is Jewish and from New Jersey. And Blackmore was doing a whisky tasting in Borough Park. It was a Friday afternoon, and all these Orthodox Jews were buying a ton of whisky. He was like, “does this go on every Friday?” 

When the answer was a resounding “Yes!” Blackmore asked himself what would help his brand stand out and the result was kosher certification on flagship single malts that — because they are made of barley, water and yeast only — do not even need one.

There are now scores of whiskies across the continents that have heckshers on them, whether from OU, Star-K, or local boards. One rabbi in Kentucky even branched out from his day job heckshering bourbon to bottle his own.

Part of Rothbaum’s mission in The Whiskey Bible is to separate real history from romantic marketing slop. Even the famous spelling debate — “whisky” versus “whiskey” — turns out to be newer and messier than most enthusiasts think.

“If you look back at government documents from the early 1900s, you see all kinds of spellings,” he told me. “Brands in Scotland and America both use ‘whisky’ and ‘whiskey’ more or less interchangeably. A lot of what we treat as sacred rules were invented in the last 25 years.”

Even our contemporary practice of reverently sipping neat brown liquor is historically unusual. Scotch conquered America as a highball: Scotch and soda.

“It’s funny,” Rothbaum says. “The entire Scotch industry in the U.S. is built on whisky and seltzer. And 120 years later, people will tell you it’s somehow sacrilegious to add soda.”

Although the marketers and the hipster artisans want to sell you the ritual or the expensive specialty products, the most important ingredient to set your whisky glass straight is information. Beyond that it is just a case of trying different expressions — and there are some great $30 bottles — working out what you like, and how you like to drink it.

From language, to history, to science, to the way we approach the many varieties of the drink itself, Rothbaum’s Bible is no-nonsense, helpful, and engaging — the perfect accompaniment to a nice glass of Scotch.

 

The post In the beginning was the word — and the word was whisky appeared first on The Forward.

Jews have been in the spotlight in the past years for all kinds of reasons, many of them less-than-fun: Gaza, war, hostages, protests. But looking back, we wanted to boil it down into highlights. Or at least things that were just really, really Jewish. Basically, everything we thought was worth making note of in the last year, whether for its merits, its lack thereof, or just for its pure oddity.

You may notice reading that there seem to be a few doubles in these categories. But, you see, the “best Jewish movie” is not necessarily the “most Jewish movie.” That’s because there has been a glut of loudly Jewish content that’s awfully hard to ignore, screaming for our attention. That doesn’t mean it’s good, but it’s notable.

So read on for the Jewish things you should remember — whether you want to or not — from 2025.

Best Jewish movie

Marty Supreme

It’s apparently a Safdie family tradition to induce anxiety in movie-going Jews on Christmas. (Uncut Gems arrived Dec. 25, 2019.) Josh Safdie’s film, about salesman-hustler-table-tennis dynamo Marty Mauser, accumulates Yiddishkeit as it goes, including a brief cameo by a Forward delivery truck. Timothée Chalamet dons thick-rim glasses and hangs a Magen David over his chest as he jousts with a Holocaust survivor opponent (there were a few ping-pong champs who did, in fact, survive Auschwitz). A character in the tradition of Sammy Glick and Duddy Kravitz, Marty is as magnetic as he is entitled. While the film’s concerns are universal, it is perhaps primarily a portrait of the New Jew, not of the Nordau school, but the American one, who regarded success as something he’s owed.

Most Jewish movie

Nuremberg

These days, there is such a glut of Holocaust content that each new book, movie or show has to find a unique niche. Nuremberg did so by focusing on the relationship between Hermann Goering, Hitler’s right-hand man, and the psychiatrist assigned to analyze him before the eponymous trials, a man who hoped to find some genetic or mental component for evil that he can diagnose.

But the movie is so intent on being informative that it neglects to actually develop its characters and give real insight into Goering’s mind and motivations, or anyone else’s. Though it purports to be a movie about the banality of evil, it was actually just banal. It culminates in the shocking realization that evil has no genetic component, and most of its reveals carry just as little weight. Its most impactful moment is actually a piece of another film: the archival footage shown during the actual trial, which the movie excerpts.

Most Jewish movie that isn’t actually Jewish

Sentimental Value

In Joachim Trier’s film, which won the Grand Prix prize at Cannes, aging filmmaker Gustav Borg pursues reconciliation with his daughters by trying to cast them in his next film, which is a dramatization of his life. He wants the younger sister Nora, a theater actress who battles crippling anxiety, to play his mother who died by suicide; he’s cast the preteen son of Agnes, the elder sister, as a younger version of himself.

The Norwegian family depicted in this film isn’t Jewish. But Trier introduces all the classic beats of Jewish cultural concern: inherited trauma, the artist’s struggle, and the allure/disappointment of goyish blondes (this one played distractingly by Elle Fanning).

(Bonus points for Jewish musical-comedy darling Catherine Cohen’s bit part as Fanning’s phone-addicted manager.)

Most Jewish TV

Nobody Wants This season two

The second season of Netflix’s Hot Rabbi hit rom-com, once again dominated Jewish conversations — and the streamer’s most-watched list. But much like its huge first season, the second left something to be desired in terms of its representation of Jews, who once again seemed to be incredibly limited by their religious identity and beliefs, and yet simultaneously eager to cast them off given the right opportunity. Stereotypes — like Jews being bad at sports or good at complaining — do a lot of the work of making the show Jewish. The effect is that Nobody Wants This doesn’t feel Jewish so much as it screams at the audience “this is a Jewish show!”

The show’s approach to Jewishness is perhaps best captured by the fact that menorahs, inexplicably, constantly appear in the background, even though it’s not Hanukkah at any point in either season. But without a hanukkiah on display — and, sometimes, lit — how would we know it’s Jewish?

Best Jewish TV

Long Story Short

The animated show from the creator of the surrealist show Bojack Horseman, Raphael Bob-Waksberg, managed to avoid the pitfalls that so often plague very Jewish media — namely heavy-handedness around Israel, or antisemitism, or leaning on clumsy exposition to define Jewish practices for a gentile audience. Instead, the show just lets its Jewish family be, while also showcasing a wide range of Jewish diversity; the family includes a Black Jewish convert, both a ba’al teshuva son and another son who struggles to connect with his Jewishness, and a queer couple. Each character feels deeply familiar to anyone who spends time in Jewish community, but the show doesn’t try to make the jokes easy to read to non-Jews. Maybe that means some of them fly over the heads of anyone not in the tribe, but that means it’s pitch-perfect for those of us looking for a deeper, subtler representation of Jewish life.

Most Jewish play

The Matriarchs

The latest play from writer and actress Liba Vaynberg, imagines how six of the Biblical matriarchs — Miriam, Sara, Rebecca, Rachel, Leah and Tziporrah — would have lived today. Set over the course of decades, the girls start the play as 13-year olds and end it in the late stages of adulthood. Each girl’s path is a smart imitation of their matriarch’s actual story, transposed into the modern day. Sara struggles with infertility. Miriam becomes a rabbi, believing that studying Torah will help her lead a good life and avoid misfortune. Leah’s mandrake root is substituted by weed edibles. With humor and an impressive amount of Jewish references that only those steeped in biblical expertise might catch, the play asks: Why is life full of sacrifices, especially ones that seem unjustified? Vaynberg is not interested in giving a solid answer, but still provides a satisfying ending, assuring that life, no matter what it brings, is meant to be lived in full.

Best Jewish play

Slam Frank 

Ragebait maestro Andrew Fox’s opus, which reimagines Anne Frank as Anna Franco, a pansexual Latinx immigrant from the “barrios of Frankfurt,” is a piece with many moving parts: a social media campaign that shames the Auschwitz-Birkenau Museum for not including chanclas in their mountains of shoes and, yes, also a “real musical,” despite the doubts of many online who assumed it was pure trolling. In fact, it’s a lucid commentary on the state of woke, where identity boxes serve as proxies for character development, and stops just short of being a full referendum on inclusion.

The piece, riffing on nearly every virtue-signalled mega-musical of the last two decades, is at its most knotty when it takes on Jewishness; Fox knows being Jewish doesn’t map neatly to the fashionable formulas of white privilege and oppressor-oppressed. In the end, it is the reimagined attic residents’ existence as Jews that unravels the simple binaries of progressive politics.

Most Jewish book

Boy from the North Country

Sam Sussman’s novel takes the author’s own nebulous biography as its subject — and the suspicion that Bob Dylan may be his father. If this wasn’t Jewish enough, the initial meeting of his mother and the future-Nobel Laureate took place in the studio of painter Norman Raeben, whose father was Solomon Naumovich Rabinovich (aka Sholem Aleichem). The book generated a lot of interest as a work of a promising debut from a young novelist.

Another extremely Jewish book

Kaplan’s Plot

A rollicking story that toggles between a Ukrainian mobster scraping by and a modern-day tech worker digging through family history, essayist and memoirist Jason Diamond’s first novel digs into Jewish Chicago. Really, as any good Jewish story spanning generations, the book is an examination of the impact of inherited trauma, but it’s not too heavy; it crackles with fast-paced Yiddishisms and the propulsive plot of a thriller. Jewishness isn’t the book’s subject as much as it is its entire ethos.

Funniest Jewish newsletter

Bagel Emoji

One of the brightest and least-talked-about trends in the Jewish world right now is the second wave of Substack newsletters introducing new perspectives on Jewish life. (Read about the first wave here.) Bagel Emoji, a semiregular dispatch from a semi-anonymous, gay semi-Orthodox Jew who lives in Los Angeles, delivers feverish, meandering riffs on niche trends like AI content in Jewish print publications and the notorious odor of a particular kosher grocer to say something deeper about frum life. Bagel’s general sass — thinly masking affection, I think — makes each entry essential reading.

Spiciest Jewish newsletter

NonZionism

Picture a newsletter about Israel discourse so hot it must be handled with gloves. That’s NonZionism, a regular rant from an Israel-based writer who goes by the pen-name Mascil Bina. Skewering the excesses and hollowness of both pro-Israel and anti-Israel ideology, the author’s perspective offers a third position: That Israel is “something that wasn’t inevitable, but cannot now be undone.” His takes are unsparing, and unexpected — one week, it’s the case for Bibi Netanyahu; the next, it’s a withering critique of hasbara titled “Zionism turns your brain to mush.” Just recommending it feels risky.

Best Jewish music moment

Streisand and Dylan duet

Streisand announced an album of duets, The Secret Of Life: Partners, Volume Two, with the likes of Hozier, Paul McCartney, Mariah Carey, Ariana Grande and — finally — Bob Dylan, resolving decades of a great musical will-they-won’t-they.

“The track opens with the sound of harmonica, a sound often associated with Dylan,” wrote the Forward’s Seth Rogovoy. “But this harmonica sounds nothing like Dylan’s style, and it is definitely not Dylan playing.” He is singing though, and Barb comes in by the fourth line.  Unfortunately, they have yet to duet on “Lay Lady Lay,” a song Dylan purportedly wrote with Barb in mind.

Best “Good for the Jews” moment

Britney Spears admiring the beards of Chabadniks playing chess

The Instagram post was rizz recognizing rizz.

Best Jewish Food Moment

Manischewitz launches food truck

Since 1888, the Manischewitz Company has been a Jewish household staple. But now, it’s taking its signature products on the road. The Manischewitz Deli on Wheels, an orange truck that serves rugelach, hot dogs, vegetarian egg rolls, and matzo ball soup, launched this March as part of the brand’s plan to market to younger audiences. Last year, the company launched a frozen food line that emphasized convenience, a quality they are also trying to capture in their truck. Manischewitz has a city-wide license and plans to take the truck all over New York and New Jersey. Its creative branding and warm servings of classic Jewish comfort food are a welcome addition to the already bustling food-truck scene.

Most Jewish Food Moment

New York City sets a new record for the world’s biggest Shabbat dinner

On Nov. 20, more than 2,500 Jews — 2,761 to be exact — sat down at the Javits Convention Center in Manhattan and broke the record for the world’s biggest Shabbat dinner. The previous record had been set by Berlin in 2015 with a dinner of 2,322 people. The Forward’s Hannah Feuer was in attendance to get all the details — and do her best to eat all the food served over the multi-course meal. The event included 811 pounds of kugel, 402 challahs, and 22,500 hors d’oeuvres and, in an AI generated video, Albert Einstein, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Golda Meir and the Hebrew patriarch Abraham offered commentary on the dinner. For entertainment, a woman in a leotard, suspended by wires from the ceiling, played “If I Were a Rich Man” on the violin and the Jewish a capella group Six13 sang “We Are the Champions” to celebrate the victorious occasion.

Biggest Jewish sports disaster

A bicycle blowup 

Canadian-Israeli billionaire Sylvan Adams had a hobby — competitive cycling — and a dream: using the sport to bolster Israel’s image abroad. That dream crashed hard into reality this summer at the Spanish Vuelta, where Adams’ team — called Israel-Premier Tech, and featuring zero Israeli or Jewish riders — turned out thousands of anti-Israel protesters.

Several of the race’s stages were altered or cancelled, including the final, which was halted several miles short of the finish line. By the Vuelta’s conclusion, some of the other riders were openly campaigning for Israel-Premier Tech’s exclusion and the team had removed “Israel” from its jerseys. The team’s demise became official this month when it was announced that retired Spanish footballer Andres Iniesta had bought IPT and, er, rechristened it.

Best Jewish sports performance

Avdija delivers

Deni Avdija was not supposed to be this good. Yet in his sixth season, the Portland Trail Blazers’ forward has been producing like an All-Star — he’s averaging 26 points, 7 rebounds, 6 assists per game as of this writing, with borderline elite efficiency — and with any justice, he’ll soon become one.

Most heartwarming Jewish sports moment

A very Jewish draft

It’s gotta be the back-to-back selections of Jewish Brooklyn Nets rookies Ben Saraf and Danny Wolf at June’s NBA Draft. Some draft prognosticators were expecting Wolf, a dynamic seven-footer who led Michigan to the Sweet 16, to be picked early in the first round — before Saraf, a spindly Israeli point guard. Instead, when Nets took Saraf with the 26th pick, the Wolf ganze mishpoche was still twiddling their thumbs. Moments later, though, Commissioner Adam Silver called Wolf’s name, sending older brother Jake Wolf into full-blown sobs — and into the unofficial sports meme hall of fame.

Menschiest Jewish athlete

Max Fried

The Yankees ace called reigning Cy Young winner Tarik Skubal to tell him he deserved to start the All-Star game in his stead. “It’s a very professional thing to do, and you got a ton of respect for guys that do stuff like that,” Skubal later told reporters. What we were thinking: This kid must have great parents!

The post 2025’s Jewish highlights — from ‘Marty Supreme’ to Max Fried’s menschy move appeared first on The Forward.

The Israeli government has taken another alarming step in its efforts to crack down on the press by moving toward shutting down Army Radio, which reaches some 900,000 listeners a day.

A unanimous Monday cabinet vote to close the station is being sold as a matter of logic, efficiency and principle. Why, after all, should a military institution operate what has long functioned as a national news outlet? Why should soldiers be involved in journalism? Why should the army run a radio station that frequently criticizes the government and the defense establishment itself?

On the surface, those questions sound persuasive. In most democracies, such a setup would indeed raise eyebrows. Militaries are meant to fight wars; broadcasting current affairs, as Army Radio has since 1950, does not clearly serve that purpose. The independence of the press is a foundational democratic norm; there are good reasons to question whether a military-run outlet can uphold it. Strip away the Israeli context, and the case for closing Army Radio could sound like common sense.

But Israel is not an abstract political theory exercise. It is a specific country with a specific history, and Army Radio is a specific institution that plays a role no other outlet can fully replace. Its shuttering would be devastating. And the move to shut it down cannot be understood in isolation. It fits neatly into the broader campaign led by Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to weaken, intimidate or take over every independent institution capable of producing criticism, accountability, or resistance.

Army Radio is not just another broadcaster. It is one of only two national radio stations in Israel that produces comprehensive news coverage.

The other is Reshet Bet of Kan, the public broadcaster that itself has been under constant attack by this government, facing unceasing efforts to strip its funding. Eliminate Army Radio, and Israel’s radio news landscape will be reduced to a single vulnerable station — precisely the outcome critics of the government’s media policy have warned about for years.

Historically, Army Radio has been a cornerstone of Israel’s free press ecosystem. It has trained generations of journalists who later shaped the country’s media culture — some while serving as soldiers, others as civilian staff who stayed on for decades. Its newsroom culture helped normalize the idea that journalism’s role is not to flatter power, but to scrutinize it.

That tradition emerged because the IDF, uniquely among militaries, is a “people’s army,” rooted in near-universal conscription and embedded in society rather than standing apart from it. Israelis have long understood that a station staffed in part by conscripts from across the country — religious and secular, right and left, center and periphery — is not a mouthpiece in the classic sense. On the contrary, Army Radio often earned its reputation by irritating ministers, generals, and prime ministers alike.

That approach earned it broad public trust — the same kind of trust that once established the IDF’s legitimacy. Incredibly, the government is also trying to undermine that trust through constant feuding with the military brass, and a concerted effort to deflect all blame for the Oct. 7 meltdown on the military. (Both government and military certainly failed on that day.)

The effort to close Army Radio mirrors the government’s campaigns against the judiciary and the police, among many other targets. Each time, the strategy is the same: identify a real or arguable flaw in an institution that exercises independence from total government control, exaggerate it, and then use it to justify dismantling or weakening that institution.

Netanyahu’s goal — similar to the successful project led by President Vladimir Putin in Russia, and to ongoing efforts in Hungary and Turkey — is to transform Israel into a country with something close to an elected dictatorship. His arguments are never openly authoritarian, but rather procedural, managerial, technocratic — and therefore harder to resist.

Communications Minister Shlomo Karhi’s broader project to restructure, weaken, and politicize Israel’s media landscape, framed as deregulation and modernization, consistently moves in one direction: reducing independent oversight, centralizing power and increasing political leverage over broadcasters. Where takeover is possible, pressure is applied. Where it is not, closure becomes the solution. Army Radio, inconveniently independent and symbolically beloved, cannot be easily captured, pressured through advertisers, or quietly restructured. So it must be eliminated.

Public opposition to the move has been broad and intense, cutting across ideological lines. For many Israelis, Army Radio is not merely a broadcaster; it is part of the country’s civic fabric. Closing it feels less like reform and more like provocation — another deliberate escalation in an ongoing culture war designed to pit Israelis against one another.

That, too, is a feature, not a bug.

This government thrives on confrontation with institutions that command public trust. By attacking them, it forces citizens to choose sides, reframes resistance as elitism or sabotage, and mobilizes its base through grievance and the seductive argument that a government elected by a majority is always legitimate in its actions.

Army Radio, anomalous as it is, stands in the way of Netanyahu’s Putinization dreams. Its existence contradicts the idea that media must either align with power or be marginalized. It reminds Israelis that criticism from within the system is not treason but patriotism. And that is precisely what makes it intolerable to an increasingly illiberal government.

None of this requires romanticizing Army Radio or denying that its structure is unusual. Yes, a military-run news station is an oddity. Yes, in another country, reform might be justified. But democracies are not built by eliminating every anomaly. They are sustained by preserving institutions that work, even when they defy neat theoretical categories.

Israel does not need fewer trusted voices right now. It does not need another symbolic demolition of a shared civic institution. And it certainly does not need to hand its already embattled media landscape another blow on behalf of a government that does Israel devastating harm.

The post An Israeli media mainstay is crumbling. Will liberal democracy go with it? appeared first on The Forward.