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The Dominican Republic was a haven for Jews fleeing the Nazis. A museum project could tell that story.
SOSUA, Dominican Republic (JTA) — Sitting inside a small wood-frame shul just around the corner from Playa Alicia, where tourists sip rum punch while watching catamarans glide by, Joe Benjamin recounted one of the most uplifting but often forgotten stories of Jewish survival during the Holocaust.
“I was bar mitzvahed right here,” he said, pointing to a podium at the front of the sanctuary in La Sinagoga de Sosua. It was built in the early 1940s to meet the spiritual needs of about 750 German and Austrian Jews.
At the time, the Dominican Republic was the only country in the world that offered asylum to large numbers of Jewish refugees, earning the moniker “tropical Zion.”
Benjamin, 82, is president of the Jewish community of Sosua and one of only four surviving second-generation Jews remaining in this touristy beach town on the northern coast of the Dominican Republic. His parents were part of the unconventional colony of Jewish immigrants who established an agricultural settlement between 1940-47 on an abandoned banana plantation overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.
“When I talk about that, I get goosebumps,” Benjamin said. “This is a distinction that the Dominican Republic has. It was the only country that opened its doors to Jews.”
Joe Benjamin, president of the Jewish Community of Sosua, inside the sanctuary of La Sinagoga. (Dan Fellner)
At the 1938 Evian Conference in France, attended by representatives of 32 countries to address the problem of German and Austrian Jewish refugees wanting to flee Nazi persecution, the Dominican Republic announced it would accept up to 100,000 Jewish refugees. About 5,000 visas were issued but fewer than 1,000 Jews ultimately were able to reach the country, which is located on the same island as Haiti, about 800 miles southeast of Miami.
Benjamin was born in 1941 in Shanghai, the only other place besides the Dominican Republic that accepted large numbers of Jewish refugees during the Holocaust. Shanghai, then a divided city not under the control of a single government, did not require a visa to enter. About 20,000 Jewish refugees immigrated there, including Benjamin’s parents, who fled Nazi Germany in 1939.
In 1947, with a civil war raging in China, Benjamin’s father realized the country “was getting a little difficult” and looked for another place to raise his two children.
“I think my father read it in a newspaper – there was a Jewish refugee colony in the Dominican Republic,” he says. “My father had no idea where that was, but he said, ‘I’m going there.’”
Benjamin’s family took a ship from China to San Francisco, a train to Miami, and then flew into Santo Domingo, the Dominican Republic’s capital city. At that time, the city was officially called Ciudad Trujillo after the country’s dictator, Generalissimo Rafael Trujillo, who ruled the Dominican Republic from 1930 until his assassination in 1961.
Photos of some of the 750 Jewish refugees who settled in Sosua in the 1940s on display at the Gregorio Luperon International Airport in Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic. (Dan Fellner)
Historians suggest the Dominican dictator’s motives in accepting large numbers of Jewish refugees at a time when so many other countries — including the United States, Canada and the United Kingdom — turned their backs were fueled more by opportunism than altruism. It’s believed that Trujillo wanted to improve his reputation on the world stage following the 1937 massacre of an estimated 20,000 Black Haitians by Dominican troops. Furthermore, Trujillo liked the idea of allowing a crop of mostly educated immigrants who would “whiten” the country’s population.
“He was a cruel dictator,” Benjamin said of Trujillo. “But it’s not for me to judge. Because for us, he saved our lives. If you’re drowning and someone throws you a rope, you hold on to it. You don’t start asking his motive. You just hold on.”
In 1947, Benjamin was among the last group of Jewish refugees to arrive in Sosua, one of about 10 families known by the other colonists as the “Shanghai group.” The Sosua settlement was run by an organization called the Dominican Republic Settlement Association (DORSA) that was funded by the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee in New York.
“DORSA would give you 10 cows, a mule, a horse and a cart,” said Benjamin. “My father by profession was a cabinet-maker. He thought he was going to do that here. But there was no market for that. So he dedicated himself to farming.”
Benjamin said conditions in Sosua were “primitive” and a difficult transition for many settlers who had been city-dwellers in Europe. Still, he spoke fondly of a childhood in which he was relatively insulated from the horrors that befell so many other Jewish children his age.
“We had enough to eat,” he says. “We enjoyed the beach. And I went to a Jewish school.”
La Sinagoga de Sosua in the Dominican Republic served the spiritual needs of the Jewish refugees who found a safe haven in Sosua during the Holocaust. It’s now open only for the high holidays. (Dan Fellner)
The school, originally called Escuela Cristobal Colon, opened in 1940 in a barracks and was attended by Jewish children as well as the children of Dominican farm workers. The school still exists and is now called the Colegio Luis Hess, named after Luis Hess, one of the Jewish settlers. Hess taught at the school for 33 years and lived in Sosua until his death in 2010 at the age of 101.
While the children attended school, men worked on farms and women cooked dinner for their families, who ate communal style. Beds were lined with mosquito netting to prevent malaria. As men greatly outnumbered women — Trujillo did not allow single Jewish women to enter the country — intermarriage was common.
Over time, the agriculture venture failed and DORSA instead decided to promote a beef and dairy cooperative, Productos Sosua, which ultimately proved successful.
After finishing high school, Benjamin moved to Pittsburgh to attend college (he’s an engineer who once built and flew his own airplane), got married and started a family. After 17 years in the United States, he decided in 1976 to return to the Dominican Republic, where he became an executive with Productos Sosua. He worked there until he retired in 2004, when the firm was sold to a Mexican company.
“All my life I talked about Sosua as my home,” he said. “I like it here. Everybody knows me.”
A street mural recognizes Sosua’s Jewish history on the main road connecting Sosua with Puerto Plata on the north coast of the Dominican Republic. (Dan Fellner)
Today, Sosua is vastly changed from the sleepy town in which Benjamin was raised. In 1979, an international airport opened in Puerto Plata, just a 15-minute drive to the west. Sosua morphed into a congested tourist destination known for its golden-sand beaches and water sports. It also became a hub of the Dominican sex tourism industry.
Most of Sosua’s Jewish population immigrated to the United States by the early 1980s. Benjamin estimates that only 30-40 Jews remain in Sosua, most of whom are not religiously observant. As a result, the synagogue hasn’t been able to financially sustain a permanent rabbi for more than 20 years. Services are held only on the high holidays, when a rabbi is flown in from Miami.
Benjamin says a group of seven Jews chips in about $2,500 a month to pay for security and other operating expenses.
“It’s very hard to get the Jews here to pay,” he said. “When we bring in the rabbi, we try to charge something. But we don’t get any people if we charge.”
Next to the synagogue is a small museum called the Museo Judio de Sosua, which offers a window into the town’s Jewish roots. Five years ago, the U.S. Embassy in Santo Domingo donated $80,000 to the museum to preserve and digitize its archives. However, the museum, which is badly in need of repairs, has been closed for the past year.
The Museo Judio de Sosua, which tells the story of the Jewish refugees who found a safe haven in the Dominican Republic during the Holocaust. The museum is closed while the community waits for funding to reopen it. (Dan Fellner)
Benjamin has been in discussions with the Dominican government in hopes it will soon finance a major renovation of the museum that would include an exhibition hall big enough to accommodate 100 people for events. Benjamin says he is optimistic the project, which has a price-tag approaching $1 million, will be green-lighted by the government.
“They are very positive about it because it could become a tourist attraction,” he says, noting that Puerto Plata and nearby Amber Cove have become popular port-stops on Caribbean cruises originating in Florida. “If it comes to fruition, it will be in the next year. Because if they don’t do it by then, the government changes. And the next government never continues what the previous government started.”
Otherwise, there are only a few remnants of Jewish life in Sosua for visitors to see. In Parque Mirador overlooking the Atlantic, there is a white cement-block star of David, built to honor the Jewish refugees. About 70 Jews, including Benjamin’s parents, are buried in a Jewish cemetery about a five-minute drive south of the synagogue.
The main street connecting Sosua with Puerto Plata has a street mural depicting the town’s history that features a large star of David right above a scuba-diver. And two of the most prominent streets in Sosua — Dr. Rosen and David Stern — still bear the names of two of the colony’s Jewish founders.
Dr. Rosen Street in downtown Sosua is named after Joseph Rosen, one of the founders of the Dominican Republic Settlement Association. (Dan Fellner)
There had been an exhibition about Sosua’s Jewish colony at the Museum of Jewish Heritage in New York but it closed several years ago. All the more reason, Benjamin says, that the Sosua museum reopens as soon as possible so that the story of the Jews who found a Caribbean cocoon to ride out the Holocaust isn’t forgotten.
“Look at what’s happening in the world — there is a rise in antisemitism,” he said. “It’s very important that our history is documented. It will also be a place where Dominican schoolchildren can come and learn about Judaism.”
With the museum closed, the only place in the area to see photos of the Jewish settlers on public display is the departure lounge in Puerto Plata’s airport. Next to a Dominican band serenading travelers with meringue music, there is a display of pictures showing the colonists riding horses, tilling the fields, attending school and praying in La Sinagoga.
“When they came here, the Jews found no antisemitism at all in this country,” said Benjamin. “They were as free as anybody. They had a wonderful life.”
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The Supreme Court considers ‘chutzpah’ case as rabbinical and civil courts collide
Can courts instruct a rabbinical court to withdraw accusations of chutzpah? This unlikely question was posed to the U.S. Supreme Court this month when a nursing home dispute offered a rare window into how American courts and rabbinical courts operate in parallel. The case illustrates how law – and life – get messy when one encroaches on the other’s authority.
The case centers on an ownership dispute over a New York nursing home, with millions of dollars at stake.
To resolve the dispute, one of the parties — Samuel Strulovitch — turned to a beit din, or rabbinical court, in Monsey, New York. Rabbinical courts across the United States regularly resolve a wide range of business disputes like this one. Beit dins have been growing across the U.S., with more locations, increasing caseloads, and a growing number of rulings popping up in civil courts.
Their popularity reflects two legal systems working together. First, Jewish law generally requires disputes between Jews to be resolved before rabbinical courts rather than civil courts — a rule that, like any good Jewish law rule, comes with plenty of exceptions and caveats. Second, American law treats rabbinical arbitration like other forms of commercial arbitration. When parties voluntarily agree to arbitration, a civil court will generally confirm the resulting “award,” giving it the force of a legal judgment. Going to a beit din thus serves two purposes simultaneously: satisfying a religious obligation and resolving a commercial dispute.
In this case, overlapping interests of multiple investors complicated matters. Strulovitch obtained an award from the Monsey beit din granting him an ownership stake in the nursing home. But the proceeding included Strulovitch and one co-owner, while other owners never agreed to submit the dispute to that beit din. That agreement matters to American courts because arbitration rests on consent, and a beit din’s award cannot bind parties who never agreed to its authority.
The result was more than two years of litigation in two civil courts and three rabbinical courts. That litigation ultimately wound its way before Judge Linda Jamieson of Westchester County, New York. Initially, she barred Strulovitch from confirming or enforcing the original rabbinical award while the court considered whether it affected the rights of investors who had never agreed to arbitration. The bar on civil enforcement was largely uncontroversial: deciding whether a religious ruling should carry the force of an American legal judgment is the civil court’s job.
A second injunction, however, transformed this commercial dispute into a constitutional controversy worthy of the Supreme Court’s attention. After Strulovitch summoned another investor, Moshe Bain, before a Brooklyn beit din, Bain asked Jamieson to bar proceedings in any other forum, “including any beis din,” which she did. In Jamieson’s view, the new beit din proceeding could encompass the same ownership disputes already before her court.
The beit din, however, viewed the order as a form of judicial overreach into religious matters. It thus issued a seruv — a religious contempt order that can expose its target to communal shunning — against Bain, citing the “chutzpah of enjoining [Strulovitch] from pursuing his Halachic rights.” The rabbis emphasized that the beit din had acted “of its own volition,” without any request from Strulovitch or his agents following Jamieson’s injunction.
Such a contempt order, of course, carries no civil legal force, but can have reputational consequences — and trigger social sanctions — within the Jewish community. Judge Jamieson nevertheless viewed the beit din’s actions as an attempt to circumvent her injunction and draw the dispute away from her court. She therefore ordered Strulovitch to “take all steps necessary” to have the beit din withdraw it, “including withdrawing the entire proceeding.” And while Strulovitch argued that intervening in internal rabbinical court matters violated the First Amendment, Jamieson concluded that the matters before the beit din were “not religious,” but commercial disputes that her court had authority to resolve under secular law.
It is here that the judge began to veer from her lane, causing Strulovitch to seek emergency relief from the Supreme Court. By requiring Strulovitch to seek reversal of a religious contempt order that has no civil consequences, the court moved beyond determining civil legal rights and into matters of religious practice. Participation in a beit din is both a means of resolving a commercial dispute and a religious requirement, which under Jewish law is no different than observing Shabbat or keeping kosher. Its commercial subject does not erase its religious significance. And under the First Amendment, it is the believer, not the state, who defines what his faith requires.
The key constitutional question is which authority gets to decide. Courts should decide legal questions, such as whether to enforce an agreement to arbitrate before a beit din or give its award the force of a legal judgment.
But questions of whether to pursue a case in beit din or religiously sanction a party for refusing to participate generally stand beyond the court’s authority so long as those decisions do not violate an independent civil legal right.
The same holds for a religious obligation to pay: A civil court can decline to enforce a beit din’s award, but whether Jewish law nevertheless requires payment remains a matter for the beit din. By demanding Strulovitch work to withdraw the seruv, however, Jamieson crossed into determining religious matters — precisely the sphere the First Amendment protects from judicial interference. That boundary makes this case worthy of Supreme Court inquiry: a judge can decide whether a religious ruling has legal force, but deciding what Jewish law counts as chutzpah is another matter.
For now, the Supreme Court has left those questions unresolved. Justice Sonia Sotomayor required Bain to formally respond to Strulovitch’s request — a sign that it warranted closer consideration. And while she ultimately declined to intervene, she left the door open for him to return once the case played out in the New York courts.
No doubt, as the beit din system grows, harder questions will emerge. But a good rule of thumb is this: Matters of religious doctrine, or of a party’s standing in a religious community, generally lie beyond a civil court’s reach, so long as they leave the party’s rights under American law untouched. Matters that affect those rights belong to the civil courts, even if they also implicate matters that Judaism considers religious. That is how these parallel legal systems can operate alongside one another — each staying in its lane.
(Both of us are affiliated with the Beth Din of America, which is not involved in this case.)
The post The Supreme Court considers ‘chutzpah’ case as rabbinical and civil courts collide appeared first on The Forward.
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Huckabee calls settler attack on Washington Post photographer a ‘despicable act of terror’
(JTA) — U.S. Ambassador to Israel Mike Huckabee on Saturday condemned an attack in the West Bank by masked settlers on a Washington Post photographer. The attack, which also targeted Palestinians harvesting their olives, occurred Friday and comes amid a sharp rise in settler violence.
Heidi Levine, the Washington Post photographer who holds U.S. citizenship, described the attack to reporters from her hospital bed.
“I got jumped and I saw in the very beginning at least 25, maybe 50 of them, and I was on the ground and they were kicking me for like 10 minutes,” she said.
“We have called for a full investigation, arrest, and prosecution to the fullest extent of the law to whoever participated in this,” Huckabee wrote on X. “Attacking a female photographer is a despicable act of terror carried out by masked cowards. Dishonorable act of senseless violence.”
Israeli President Isaac Herzog also condemned the “shocking violence” and said he had called Levine to apologize. “I expressed my deepest sorrow to Heidi and apologized for what she went through. The despicable behavior of the perpetrators of this attack does not represent the citizens or the values of the State of Israel.”
Video footage from the scene shows masked settlers surrounding and attacking Levine. Some settlers at the scene were masked and carrying weapons. Palestinians can also be seen throwing stones toward the settlers.
A Palestinian was reportedly shot in additional clashes in the area. The Israel Defense Forces alleged in an official statement that soldiers “fired toward a suspect who ran toward them, carrying a sharp object and posed a threat.” Several vehicles were set on fire by the settlers.
Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu was equivocal in addressing the attack, stopping short of directly condemning the assailants.
He said that the circumstances in which Levine was allegedly assaulted “remain unclear,” while adding that “Israel unequivocally condemns violence against anyone.”
According to Netanyahu’s statement, “200 Arabs and far-left activists confronted approximately 40 Israeli youths.”
“We will not allow disputed incidents to be exploited to demonize the hundreds of thousands of law-abiding Jewish residents of Judea and Samaria,” the statement said, using the biblical names for the West Bank.
Netanyahu faces elections in less than two weeks and can ill afford to alienate his far-right coalition partners who are aligned with extreme settler factions.
Israeli opposition leader Yair Lapid, by contrast, issued a forceful condemnation of the attack and linked it to the policies of Netanyahu’s government.
“Jewish terror attacks, this time targeting a Washington Post photographer as well, are not a failure of the government — they are the government’s policy,” Lapid said.
“We will put an end to this. It is a disgrace to the State of Israel, a disgrace to the Jewish people, and a disaster on the international stage,” he added. Settler violence against Palestinians in the West Bank has surged since the Oct. 7, 2023, Hamas-led attack on Israel. Netanyahu’s government has sought to downplay the phenomenon, often portraying the perpetrators as a small group of violent youths. But numerous figures in Israel’s political and security establishments have warned that the violence is a broader and dangerous phenomenon.
Levine told reporters the settlers forcibly took her equipment. “All I remember afterwards is that Palestinians managed to come and rescue me and try to carry me, and then an ambulance came,” she said.
The IDF acknowledged the incident in an official statement, saying that “a female journalist was injured” during a “confrontation.” The military said troops dispersed those involved and that “details of the incident will be examined.”
“Violence against innocent civilians is a grave and intolerable phenomenon that requires a coordinated, multi-agency response. The IDF will work together with the relevant authorities to eradicate this phenomenon,” the military said.
The IDF did not announce any arrests in connection with the attack. Settler violence against Palestinians in the West Bank has frequently gone unpunished, with many such incidents resulting in no arrests.
The Foreign Press Association, which represents international media in Israel and the Palestinian territories, condemned the attack, saying Levine was “badly beaten by Israeli settlers” and had sustained moderate injuries.
“This is the latest in a long line of violent attacks by Israeli settlers against journalists and other civilians in the occupied West Bank. Yet our repeated calls for action to confront this lawlessness have been ignored by Israeli authorities,” the association said.
Matt Murray, executive editor of the Post, issued a statement calling for an investigation. “While we are relieved that Heidi has received medical care and is safe, we are outraged by this unwarranted attack on a journalist doing her job and urge a thorough investigation and follow-through from authorities,” Murray said.
The post Huckabee calls settler attack on Washington Post photographer a ‘despicable act of terror’ appeared first on The Forward.
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As Netanyahu loses support before election, Ben-Gvir rises in polls
(JTA) — RAMLA – Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and the parties in his coalition seem to be losing support heading into Israel’s first election since Oct. 7 – with one exception. Otzma Yehudit, headed by Minister of National Security Itamar Ben-Gvir, is seeing a rise in the polls.
Ben-Gvir’s growing popularity ahead of the Oct. 27 election was on full display on a recent weekday when the far-right politician, surrounded by a massive entourage of security guards, police and flag-waving fans, made his way through the central Israeli city of Ramla’s marketplace.
Yet, amidst the cheering and celebration, the extreme nationalism that has contributed to his meteoric rise through the ranks of Israel’s political system – and made Ben-Gvir a household name even beyond Israel’s borders – also drew ire and deep-seated fear in this city known for its mixed Jewish-Arab population.
“Here comes the next defense minister,” a gaggle of teenage boys in matching Ben-Gvir T-shirts chanted as the minister walked through the market, greeting shoppers and stallholders begging for selfies. Ben-Gvir has his sights set on being Israel’s next minister of defense, a huge promotion from his current role managing internal security.
At several of the stalls, the controversial minister stopped to embrace vendors. At a pickle stand, he sampled olives. At a candy store, the owner joyously threw handfuls of small candies over the passing group. And at a juice stand, Ben-Gvir and his entourage were treated to complimentary cups of lemonade.
The minister, elated by the welcome, smiled and waved at passersby, grabbing phones to take selfies, and even chatting with excited fans on video calls.
Beyond the celebration in Ramla, however, Ben-Gvir has been condemned in Israel and beyond for calling for the expulsion of Gazans and using dehumanizing language about Palestinians. A disciple of Jewish extremist Meir Kahane, he for years kept a photo of Baruch Goldstein, who mowed down Palestinian worshippers at a Hebron mosque, in his living room.
It is not only his rhetoric and symbolic gestures that have drawn polarizing admiration and anger. During his four years as national security minister, Ben-Gvir has actively downgraded conditions in Israeli jails, pushed through a law establishing a death penalty for Palestinian terrorists and has led the police during the proliferation of settler violence against West Bank villagers.
These measures have earned opprobrium abroad, but they appear to be winning votes. His supporters are ever more impressed with how he puts his words, and paperwork, into action – and shares it proudly on TikTok.
Polls published this week show that even as Netanyahu and his coalition partners are losing votes to the opposition bloc led by former IDF chief Gadi Eisenkot, Ben-Gvir is getting more. Otzma Yehudit, translated as “Jewish Power,” is predicted to increase from its current six seats to as many as nine.
On the ground, in the marketplace in Ramla, Ben-Gvir’s visit drew extreme reactions ranging from sheer joy to pure anger.
“I love Ben-Gvir,” gushed Hodaya Nabara, 52, who seconds before snapped a selfie with the politician. “He does what he says he will do.”
A resident of southern Israel, Nabara said she was most impressed by how he had ordered the demolition of illegally built homes, in some cases whole villages, built by the burgeoning Israeli Bedouin population, in the Negev region where there is little oversight of construction, and where Bedouin say the government neglects their needs.
“They need to know there is a red line and they can’t do whatever they want,” she said.
But as the entourage passed by Michal Sharabi, the 53-year-old began hurling insults at him and shaking.
“I can’t stand him at all, because of him there is no peace in this country,” she told JTA after calming down. “He is a lowlife, and the people going with him don’t believe in themselves. Is he not embarrassed to come to this city, where Jews and Arabs live together … It’s a chutzpah. I’m furious.”
In a nearby grocery store, a mixed group of Arabs and Jews frowned at the unfolding spectacle.
“We don’t like being defined as Arabs or Jews; we are ‘Ramlaim’ (residents of Ramla),” insisted Uri, who said he was Jewish but declined to give his full name. “We are all neighbors here, and he is making people fight.”
His friend, Hamudi Abu Ghanam, said Arab residents of the city like him were impacted by the events of Oct. 7, 2023, when Hamas launched deadly raids inside Israel, just like the Jews, and many came to help out but that Ben-Gvir still incited against them.
“He is racist,” he said. “Since Oct. 7, we are all against Hamas, and instead of saying thank you, he comes and destroys people’s homes.”
Ben-Gvir’s stop in Ramla struck a particular nerve because the city, which is about 78% Jewish and 22% Arab, was a central point of tension in 1948 when Israel was created. For Arabs, the evidence of the Nakba, which Palestinians call the “catastrophe” of Israel’s creation that displaced the local Palestinian Arab population during its war of independence, is all around in ruins.
At one point on his jaunt through the market, two Arab girls donning traditional hijab headcoverings hovered nearby, but they quickly made a U-turn when they realized who was at the center of the commotion.
Some Jewish onlookers pointed to his theatrics as reasons they were unimpressed by him. Benny Muhtar, 68, a Jewish resident of Ramla, told JTA he thought Ben-Gvir was full of “hot air” – a populist with no substantial policies.
“Look at the young men surrounding him; they are making a lot of noise like this is a serious campaign … that is what is making the people look up and take notice, but none of it is real, and he is doing a lot of damage,” he said.
Others enjoyed the spectacle but, with less than two weeks to go until casting their vote, were still unsure whom they would choose.
“He’s done a lot of really good things,” said Edna Mahbesh, 65, who was handing out the free lemonade. “I really hope he is successful in the election.”
But she was not sure if she would actually vote for him.
“I’ll decide that next week,” she said.
Arbel Flehandler, 19, a first-time voter, stood on the side, watching in awe as the politician passed by.
“He is really good and does a lot of good things,” he said. “I am definitely going to vote for a right-wing party, but not sure if I will vote for him or not. This is my first time, and I am still thinking about it.”
Zehava Perets, 80, said the reactions to Ben-Gvir showed just how polarized Israel is right now.
“It is such a shame there are so many divisions,” she said. “I really don’t know who I will vote for … There are a few good people in each bloc, but it is impossible to get them to work together.”
Liron Lavie, an assistant professor in the Department of Political Studies at Bar-Ilan University, said the extreme reactions for and against Ben-Gvir “speaks to how politics works these days” – as politicians “connect with the electorate through emotional reaction and a sense of pride or fear.”
She said Ben-Gvir should be viewed as part of the “larger global trend where far-right parties are getting stronger.”
Lavie assessed that Otzma Yehudit benefited from the growing appeal of providing simple solutions and simple messaging – and that Ben-Gvir was especially effective on social media platforms such as TikTok.
“At the end of the day, people prefer simple messages,” said Lavie.
She also said that Ben-Gvir, despite being in the government on Oct. 7, had successfully distanced himself from that fact and positioned himself as a strong alternative to Netanyahu on the right.
“Likud and Netanyahu are losing ground,” she said. “They are being criticized about how they managed the situation, either from the center and left or from the right, allowing voters to go to Ben-Gvir, who was able to position himself as an [alternative] to Netanyahu from the right.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post As Netanyahu loses support before election, Ben-Gvir rises in polls appeared first on The Forward.
