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The JTA conversation: Pogrom? Terrorism? What do we call what happened in Huwara?
(JTA) — On Sunday, after a Palestinian gunman shot and killed two Israeli brothers in the West Bank, Jewish settlers rioted in the nearby Palestinian town of Huwara, burning cars and buildings. A Palestinian was killed and dozens were injured.
Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu condemned the Jewish rioters for “taking the law in their own hands,” but many observers — including the top Israeli general in the West Bank and Abraham Foxman, director emeritus of the the Anti-Defamation League — used stronger language, calling the attacks a “pogrom.”
The use of the word, which most famously refers to a wave of anti-Jewish violence in the Russian empire beginning in the late 19th century, in turn became the subject of debate. Does using “pogrom” co-opt Jewish history unfairly and inaccurately by suggesting Jews are no better than their historical persecutors? Does avoiding the term mean Israel and its supporters are not taking sufficient responsibility for the actions of its Jewish citizens?
The debate is not just about language, but about controlling the narrative. Political speech can minimize or exaggerate events, put them in their proper context or distort them in ways that, per George Orwell, can “corrupt thought.”
We asked historians, linguists and activists to consider the word pogrom, and asked them what politicians, journalists and everyday people should call what happened at Huwara. Their responses are below.
Sidestepping the real issue
Dr. Jeffrey Shandler
Distinguished Professor, Department of Jewish Studies, Rutgers University
The meanings of the word “pogrom” in different languages are key here. In Russian, it means a massacre or raid, as it does in Yiddish; in neither language is it understood as specifically about violence against Jews. The Oxford English Dictionary concurs that pogrom means an “organized massacre… of any body or class,” but notes that, in the English-language press, it was first used mostly to refer to anti-Jewish attacks in Russia, citing examples from 1905-1906.
Therefore, though the association of pogrom with violence targeting Jews is widely familiar, its meaning is broader.
That said, because of English speakers’ widely familiar association of the term with Jews as victims, to use pogrom to describe violence perpetrated by Jews is provocative. As to whether it is appropriate to refer to recent attacks by Jewish settlers on Palestinians, it seems to me that this question sidesteps the more important question of whether the actions being called pogroms are appropriate.
Call it what it is: “settler terrorism”
Sara Yael Hirschhorn
’22-’23 Research Fellow at the Center for Antisemitism Research at the ADL, and author, “City on a Hilltop: American Jews and the Israeli Settler Movement”
Let me say first with a loud and clear conscience: What happened in Huwara was abhorrent, immoral, and unconscionable and certainly was not committed in my name.
But to paraphrase Raymond Carver’s famous formulation: How do we talk about it when we talk about Huwara? What kind of descriptive and analytical framework can adequately and contextually interpret that horrific event?
The shorthand of choice seems to be “pogrom” — but it isn’t clear that all who deploy the term are signifying the same thing. For some, pogrom is a synonym for pillage, rampage, fire, property damage and violence in the streets — a one-word general summary of brutal acts. For others, pogrom refers to vigilante justice, an abbreviated story of the non-state or non-institutional actors and their motivations.
More specifically, however, pogrom is seemingly being mobilized as a metaphor to Jewish history, juxtaposing the Jewish victims of yesterday to the Jewish-Israeli perpetrators of today, an implicit analogy to the prelude to the Shoah, recasting Zionists as organized bands of genocidaires (with or without regime sponsorship) like the Cossacks, the Nationalist Fronts or even the Einsatzgruppen. Some would use the word to incorporate all three meanings (and more).
As a historian, I am troubled by the haphazard and harmful use of terms that are attached to a specific time and place — such as the thousand-year history of Jews in the Rhinelands and Eastern Europe, with many layers of imperial, national, local, economic and religious forces that precipitated these events — in such an ahistorical manner. Nor do I find the parallels between Zionists and Nazis to be historically careful (if deliberately offensive) — the State of Israel is committing crimes in the West Bank, but not a genocide. The equivalence also all too easily and incorrectly grafts tropes of racism and white supremacy drawn from American history into the West Bank’s soil.
So what to say about Huwara? Israel — for reasons both political and lexiconographical — has failed to consistently adopt a term for such attacks. (Often the euphemism of “errant weeds” who are “taking matters into their own hands” is the choice of Knesset politicians.) To my mind, the best term is “settler terrorism,” which puts Jewish-Israeli acts on par with Palestinian terrorism. It should also mean that these actions merit the same consequences under the occupation like trial, imprisonment, home demolition and other deterrents enforced against all those who choose the path of violence.
Last but not least, a pogrom was historically an unpunished crime against humanity that led only to war and annihilation. Don’t we aspire for more in Israel/Palestine?
Palestinians call it “ethnic cleansing”
Ibrahim Eid Dalalsha
Director, Horizon Center for Political Studies and Media Outreach, Ramallah, and member of Israel Policy Forum’s Critical Neighbors task force
Palestinians generally view and describe what happened during Sunday’s Huwara attacks as “racist hate crimes seeking to destroy and dispossess the Palestinian people of their homes and properties.” While no specific term has been used to describe these attacks, it was likened to the barbaric and savage invasion of Baghdad by Hulagu, the 13th-century Mongol commander.
Palestinian intellectuals tend to use “ethnic cleansing,” savage and barbaric ethnically motivated violence against innocent civilians, as another way of referring to these attacks. When such events include killing, Palestinian politicians and intellectuals tend to use the term massacre, or “majzara,” to underline the irrational and indiscriminate violence against defenseless civilians. I don’t think the term “pogrom” and its historic connotation are widely known to most people here. From a Palestinian perspective, using such terms, including “Holocaust,” is not considered a mistake. In fact, even using “Holocaust“ to describe violence against Palestinian civilians in and around 1948 was not considered a mistake until very recently when it caused such a saga for Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas in Germany.
View of cars burned by Jewish settlers during riots in Huwara, in the West Bank, near Nablus, Feb. 27, 2023. (Nasser Ishtayeh/Flash90)
In the name of historical accuracy
Rukhl Schaechter
Yiddish Editor, The Forward
The recent attacks by Israeli settlers on Palestinians in Huwara are abhorrent. I commend those in Israel calling them peulot teror, “actions of terror,” and I trust that the perpetrators will be brought to justice. But these riots were not pogroms.
The word pogrom refers to one of the many violent riots and subsequent massacres of Jews in Eastern Europe between the 17th and 20th centuries. These attacks were committed by local non-Jewish, often peasant populations. They were instigated by rabble-rousers like Bogdan Chmielnicki, who led a Cossack and peasant uprising against Polish rule in Ukraine in 1648 and ended up destroying hundreds of Jewish communities. According to eyewitnesses, the attackers also committed atrocities on pregnant women.
Note that the massacres of Jews carried out by the Nazis, and the murders of Armenians by the Turkish government at the turn of the 20th century — as horrific as they were — were never called pogroms because in both cases, there was a government behind it. In the name of historic accuracy, let’s continue to use the word pogrom solely for mob attacks on and massacres of Jews.
When the Poles banned “pogrom”
Samuel D. Kassow
Professor of History, Trinity College, Hartford, Connecticut
In Poland in the late 1930s, altercations between a Jew and a Pole sometimes ended with either the Jew or the Pole getting badly hurt or even killed. When the victim was a Pole, mobs of Poles rampaged through Jewish neighborhoods smashing windows, looting shops and often beating or even killing Jews. Poles often held Jews collectively responsible for the death of one of their own. This happened in Przytyk, Minsk-Mazowieck, Grodno and other places. Jews called these riots “pogroms,” which they were. But the Polish government banned use of the term in the press. After all, “pogrom” was a Russian word, and “pogroms” happened only in a place characterized by barbarism and ignorance. Since Poland was not Russia, and since Poles were eminently civilized, logically speaking, pogroms simply did not take place in Poland. What happened in these towns were to be called “excesses” (zajscia). But certainly not pogroms!
I take it that since we Jews are so civilized, we too are incapable of pogroms. So should we label what these settlers did “‘excesses”? Or perhaps we should take a deep breath and call them pogroms?
A Jewish, but not exclusive, history
Henry Abramson
Historian
The word “pogrom” is rooted in time and place, although the type of violence it describes is as old as human history. It is a Russian word, but it entered the English language in the late 19th century through the medium of Yiddish-speakers, outraged at the wave of antisemitic disturbances that surged under rule of the last tsar of the Russian Empire, Nicholas II. Russians themselves used a variety of words for the ugly phenomenon, with translations like “riot” or “persecution,” but the term “pogrom” proved the most evocative: the Slavic prefix “po” suggests a directed attack, and the root “grom” is the word for “thunder.” A pogrom, therefore, meant a focused point where a great deal of energy was dissipated in a single dramatic act of violence.
The focused point, in the context of that dark history, was the civilian Jewish population in the tiny shtetls that dotted the Pale of Settlement. In this regard the word could be used to encompass attacks on Jewish populations from as long ago as the year 38 in Alexandria, Egypt. It does not, however, have any specific designation to indicate that Jews are the victims.
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The battle between tradition and revolution in Soviet-Yiddish culture
די סאָװעטיש־ייִדישע קולטור איז געװען עסטעטיש אָדער אידעאָלאָגיש פֿילזײַטיק, לכל־הפּחות אין משך פֿון די ערשטע פּאָר צענדליק יאָר. דאָס איז דער עיקר־טעזיס פֿון דער װאָגיקער שטודיע „רױטע ייִדן: דער ייִדיש־סאָװעטישער קולטור־פּראָיעקט“ פֿון דער ליטעראַטור־פֿאָרשערין דאַריע װאַכרושאָװאַס (אוניװערסיטעט פֿון מינכען).
דער ציל פֿון דער פֿאָרשונג איז צו לאָזן דעם הײַנטיקן לײענער הערן די פֿאַרשײדענע שטימען אינעם אַלגעמײנעם כאָר פֿון סאָװעטישע ייִדישע ליטעראַטן, קינסטלער און כּלל־טוער.
ווי האָבן אָט די פֿיגורן פֿאַרשטאַנען די צוקונפֿטיקע ייִדישע קולטור? װי אַזױ האָבן זײ בדעה געהאַט צונױפֿצוברענגען ייִדישקײט און סאָװעטישקײט? װוּ שטײט די סאָװעטישע ייִדישע קולטור אױף דער ייִדישער װעלטמאַפּע? דאָס זײַנען די פֿראַגן, װאָס װאַכרושאָװאַ באַהאַנדלט.
זי גיט זיך ספּעציעל אָפּ מיט לינגװיסטישע פּרטים — טערמינען, מעטאַפֿאָרן, אימאַזשן — װאָס מען האָט גענוצט אין די קריטישע װיכּוחים פֿון יענער תּקופֿה. דערבײַ באַטראַכט זי ניט נאָר די מער באַקאַנטע ליטעראַרישע טעקסטן, נאָר אַ ברײטערן פֿאַרנעם פֿון מקורים פֿון צײַטונגען.
װאַכרושאָװאַ פּרוּװט צו אַנטפּלעקן די פֿילשטימיקײט פֿונעם סאָװעטיש־ייִדישן קולטורעלן פּראָיעקט. זי איז ספּעציעל פֿאַראינטערעסירט אין פֿאַרשײדענע װיזיעס פֿון דער צוקונפֿט פֿון ייִדיש אין סאָװעטן־פֿאַרבאַנד, װאָס מען האָט אַרומגערעדט אין די 1920ער יאָרן.
דאָס בוך באַשטײט פֿון דרײַ טײלן. אינעם ערשטן באַטראַכט װאַכרושאָװאַ כּלערלײ עסטעטישע מאַניפֿעסטן און קינסטלערישע פּראָגראַמען פֿון ייִדישער קולטור, װאָס מען האָט אַרױסגעגעבן נאָך דער ערשטער װעלט־מלחמה אין קיִעװ, מאָסקװע, לאָדזש, װאַרשע און בערלין.
דער צװײטער טײל איז געװידמעט דעם נסתּרס זאַמלונג רײַזע־פֿאַרצײכענונגען „דרײַ הױפּטשטעט“(1934). דער לעצטער חלק אַנאַליזירט די סטיליסטישע און לינגװיסטישע אַספּעקטן פֿון סאָװעטישע ליטעראַרישע איבערזעצונגען אױף ייִדיש פֿון רוסיש און אײראָפּעיִשע שפּראַכן.
די יאָרן נאָך דער ערשטער װעלט־מלחמה זײַנען געװען אַ בלי־תּקופֿה פֿון ייִדישן אַװאַנגאַרד אין ליטעראַטור און קונסט. אין װאַרשע זײַנען דערשינען די זשורנאַלן „רינגען“, „אַלבאַטראָס“, „כאַליאַסטרע“, „די װאָג“; אין בערלין — „מילגרױם“; אין קיִעװ — דיאַלמאַנאַכן „אײגנס“ און „אױפֿגאַנג“. לרובֿ האָבן די דאָזיקע פּובליקאַציעס ניט לאַנג געדױערט, אָבער זײ האָבן געמאַכט דרײסטע פּראָקלאַמאַציעס װעגן דער רעװאָלוציע אין דער ייִדישער קולטור.
למשל, אינעם ערשטן נומער פֿון דער סאָװעטישער קאָמוניסטישער צײַטונג „דער עמעס“ דעם 7טן נאָװעמבער 1920 האָט פּרץ מאַרקיש פֿאַרעפֿנטלעכט אַן אַרטיקל „אױף די װעגן פֿון ייִדישער דיכטונג“. עס איז מערקװירדיק, באַמערקט װאַכרושאָװאַ, װאָס דער דאָזיקער מאַניפֿעסט פֿון דער נײַער סאָװעטישער ייִדישער פּאָעזיע פֿאַרמאָגט ניט קײן מאַרקסיסטישע קאָמוניסטישע מליצה.
אַנשטאָט דעם רעדט מאַרקיש װעגן טיפֿע איבערלעבונגען, װאָס פֿאַרכליניען דעם מענטשן אין דער צײַט פֿון דער רעװאָלוציע. די רעװאָלוציע האָט גורם געװען אַן איבערבראָך אין דער טראַדיציע, „און טאַקע דערפֿאַר קאָנען די דיכטער פֿון אונדזער נײַער שטורעמדיקער תּקופֿה ניט שאַפֿן קײן מאָנומענטאַלע װערק, זײ זײַנען קױלן־גראָבערס […] פֿאַר נײַע תּקופֿות, פֿאַר קומעדיקע דורות,“ שרײַבט מאַרקיש.
אָבער מיט פֿיר יאָר שפּעטער האָט מאַרקיש זיך באַרעכנט װעגן דער המשכדיקײט פֿון דער ייִדישער קולטור. אין אַ רעפֿעראַט אין װילנע אין 1924 האָט ער געזאָגט, לױטן באַריכט אין דער װילנער צײַטונג „טאָג“: „ניטאָ קײן צװײ ליטעראַטורן, ס’זײַנען בלױז פֿאַראַן צװײ ליטעראַרישע עפּאָכעס, מיט פֿאַרשײדענע פֿאָרמעס, אָבער מיט אײן גרונד־ליניע, אײן ענדציל.“
דאָ האָט מאַרקיש פּראָקלאַמיט די המשכדיקײט צװישן די קלאַסיקער װי מענדעלע, שלום־עליכם און פּרץ און דער נײַער ליטעראַטור, װי מאַרקיש אַלײן, װאָס איז אַנטשטאַנען נאָך דער ערשטער װעלט־מלחמה.
אָט די צװײ קעגנזײַטיקע דעות װעגן דער ליטעראַרישער אַנטװיקלונג — אַן איבערבראָך אָדער המשכדיקײט — האָבן באַשטימט צװײ שטרעמונגען אין דער אַלװעלטלעכער ייִדישער ליטעראַטור נאָך דער ערשטער װעלט־מלחמה, סײַ אין סאָװעטן־פֿאַרבאַנד, סײַ אין פּױלן און סײַ אין אַמעריקע.
אין אונטערשייד צו דער הײַנטיקער אַמעריקאַנער שיטה אין ייִדיש־פֿאָרשונגען, װאָס פּרוּװן כּסדר צופּאַסן ייִדישע טעקסטן צו דער הײַנטיקער מאָדע אין ליטעראַרישער טעאָריע, איז װאַכרושאָװאַס מעטאָד דער עיקר אַ פֿילאָלאָגישער.
זי באַזירט אירע אױספֿירן אױף אַ גרונטיקן אַנאַליז פֿונעם שפּראַכלעכן סטיל פֿון ייִדישע מקורים. אַזאַ צוגאַנג מאַכט אירע אַרגומענטן גלײַכצײַטיטק מער װאָגיק און מער ניואַנסירט. זי דערװײַזט פּינקטלעך, װי אידעיִשע און עסטעטישע חילוקי־דעות צװישן ייִדישע ליטעראַטן האָבן זיך אַנטפּלעקט דורך שאַטירונגען אין זײער זאַצבױ, װאָקאַבולאַר, אינעם אױסקלײַב פֿון גערמאַנישע, סלאַװישע און לשון־קודשדיקע קאָמפּאָנענטן.
װאַכרושאָװאַ באַמערקט, אַז כּסדר שאַצט מען אָפּ די פּאָזיציעס פֿון סאָװעטישע שרײַבער, אַזעלכע װי מאַרקיש און דוד בערגעלסאָן, פֿונעם שפּעטערן שטאַנדפּונקט, װען מען איז שױן געװױר פֿון זײער טראַגישן אומקום. זי פּרוּװט, להיפּוך, לײענען זײערע טעקסטן דורך דעם מיטצײַטלערישן שפּאַקטיװ. זי ברענגט דעם לײענער אַרײַן אינעם סאַמע ברען פֿון קריטישע װיכּוחים פֿון די 1920ער יאָרן.
אַן אינטערעסאַנטער בײַשפּיל פֿון דעם, װי אַזױ מען האָט זיך געפּרוּװט צופּאַסן צו די נײַע סאָװעטישע באַדינגונגען, זײַנען דעם נסתּרס פֿאַרצײכענונגען װעגן די שטעט כאַרקעװ, לענינגראַד און מאָסקװע אינעם זאַמלבוך „הױפּטשטעט“. דאָס איז געװען זײַן פּרוּװ אַריבערצוגײן פֿונעם סימבאָליסטישן סטיל פֿון זײַנע פֿריִערדיקע דערציילונגען צו דעם רעאַליסטישן סטיל פֿונעם זשאַנער פֿון רײַזע־פֿאַרצײכענונג.
װאַכרושאָװאַ האַלט, אַז דער נסתּר האָט בכּװוּן אָפּגעהיט עלעמענטן פֿון זײַן סימבאָליסטישן סטיל – אַזעלכע װי ריטמישע איבערחזרונגען פֿון די אײגענע װערטער אין אײן זאַץ, דער שװערלעכער דײַטשמערישער זאַצבױ, דער ניט־פֿאַרלאָזלעכער נאַראַטאָר – כּדי אונטערצורײַסן די פּאָזיטיװע שטימונג, װאָס עס האָט געפֿאָדערט די אָפֿיציעלע סאָװעטישע ליטעראַטור. „הױפּטשטעט“ איז אַ דאָקומענט פֿון דעם נסתּרס אַנטױשונג אינעם פּראָיעקט פֿון אױפֿבױען די ייִדישע קולטור אינעם סאָװעטן־פֿאַרבאַנד, פֿאַרסך־הכּלט װאַכרושאָװאַ.
װי אַ צאָל אַנדערע ייִדישע און ניט־ייִדישע מחברים, װאָס זײַנען געשטאַנען אױף די ראַנדן פֿון דער אָפֿיציעלער סאָװעטישער ליטעראַטור, האָט דער נסתּר געפֿונען אַ מקום־מקלט אין איבערזעצערישער אַרבעט. ער האָט איבערגעזעצט אויף ייִדיש די װערק פֿון די רוסישע קלאַסיקער לעװ טאָלסטאָי, פֿיאָדאָר דאָסטאָיעװסקי, איװאַן טורגענעװ, און פֿון אַ היפּשער צאָל דײַטשישע, פֿראַנצײזישע און אַנדערע שרײַבער.
איבערזעצונגען פֿון דער רוסישער און אײראָפּעיִשער בעלעטריסטיק און דיכטונג, פֿון פּאָליטישער און װיסנשאַפֿטלעכער ליטעראַטור אױף די סאָװעטישע מינאָריטעט־שפּראַכן זײַנען געװען אַ װיכטיקער עלעמענט פֿון דער סאָװעטישער קולטור־פּאָליטיק, און ייִדיש איז ניט געװען קײן אױסנאַם. דערצו איז דאָס געװען אַ מער־װײניקער סטאַבילע פּרנסה, װײַל די האָנאָראַרן האָבן באַצאָלט מלוכישע פֿאַרלאַגן.
דװקא די איבערזעצונגען האָבן אַ סך בײַגעטראָגן צו דער אַנטװיקלונג פֿונעם אײגנאַרטיקן סאָװעטישן נוסח פֿון ייִדיש. איבערזעצונגען זײַנען אויך געװאָרן אַ װיכטיק ליטעראַריש פֿעלד פֿאַר שפּראַכלעכע עקספּערימענטן, בפֿרט װען די פּאָליטישע באַדינגונגען זײַנען אין די 1930ער יאָרן געװאָרן אַלץ שװערער, פֿאַרסך־הכּלט װאַכרושאָװאַ. אַזױ האָט זיך די ייִדישע שפּראַך װײַטער אַנטװיקלט, ניט געקוקט אױף דעם פּאָליטישן דרוק.
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A Jewish nonprofit was training men to prevent sexual abuse. Then the funding disappeared
When Jewish Women International began speaking out on behalf of Israeli women who experienced sexual violence during the Oct. 7 Hamas attack, or during captivity in Gaza, the organization quickly received new funding and partners for its “I Believe Israeli Women” campaign.
Another project, focused on supporting young Jewish women who have felt isolated “in a post-October 7th world,” has also been popular with philanthropic foundations.
But its work to support female victims of violence in the U.S. — historically a core part of its mission — relies on federal government grants that have evaporated in the second Trump administration, sending the whole organization reeling.
The Department of Justice has refused to release more than $200 million in funds allocated by Congress to help prevent violence against women, including the “culturally specific” grants that funded work educating Jewish men — including helping Orthodox leaders in Philadelphia reduce the stigma around reporting domestic violence and training members of ZBT, a Jewish fraternity, on sexual consent.
“I have been struggling to keep my staff employed,” said Meredith Jacobs, the group’s CEO, in an interview with the Forward. “I’ve taken money from a line of credit — I’ve gone into investment funds — with the hope that, ‘Maybe next month we’ll hear,’ ‘Maybe next month we’ll hear,’ ‘Maybe next month we’ll hear.’”
Jacobs eliminated two senior executive roles at the small organization, which currently has 12 employees and a budget of around $2.5 million, laying off its vice president of government relations in April and declining to replace the chief of programming who retired in December.
Grants awaiting approval
Congress appropriated $713 million to the Department of Justice to spend last year on grants required by the Violence Against Women Act, but the department has only distributed $472 million so far with no announcement as to when the rest of the money will be delivered to organizations.
The Trump administration has gummed up the grant distribution process across the federal government with new requirements that a senior political appointee approve each individual grant. Elon Musk’s team of consultants also removed information about how to receive funding from the Justice Department’s Office on Violence Against Women last spring before adding it back with new restrictions.
One grant program, which provides funding for religious minorities, LGBTQ individuals and people with disabilities, has still not been restored.
Jacobs said her organization had been receiving around $200,000 per year in federal grants but was expecting closer to $1 million last year as it expanded its work training other faith-based nonprofits on how to run domestic violence prevention programs.
The Department of Justice did not respond to questions Thursday about when Jewish Women International and other grant applicants would receive responses to their 2025 funding requests.
JWI was founded in 1897 as the women’s auxiliary of B’nai B’rith and, like many legacy organizations that previously relied on mass membership, it has grappled with how to modernize its operations in recent decades. (The National Council of Jewish Women, a larger peer of JWI, is in the process of a restructuring that has entailed severing ties with several local chapters around the country.)
After years of shrinking spending, Jacobs grew JWI’s budget from around $1.5 million when she started the job in 2020 to nearly $3 million last year with new programs that include a gun violence prevention coalition and financial literacy classes for survivors of domestic violence.
Jacobs said that even in the absence of federal funding JWI remains committed to women’s security and is bringing what she called a “trauma-informed” lens, honed through work with victims of violence, to its women’s leadership network.
Sexual violence in the Oct. 7 attacks and their aftermath spurred a wave of private funding focused on Israel, and on the climate for Jews in the diaspora.
“After Oct. 7, the interest shifted to Israel and antisemitism,” said Jacobs. But domestic violence within U.S. Jewish communities, an especially sensitive subject, has drawn little funder interest. “It’s really hard getting donor attention on our work around domestic and sexual violence,” Jacobs admitted.
Some of the group’s core work may be paused indefinitely until either the Justice Department grants are released or private donors step up to cover the gaps.
“It’s hard to talk about the idea that people within the Jewish community would be abusers,” Jacobs said. “It’s something people don’t like hearing about or talking about.”
The post A Jewish nonprofit was training men to prevent sexual abuse. Then the funding disappeared appeared first on The Forward.
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Meet Matt Turner, the only Jewish player on Team USA in the World Cup
(JTA) — When the U.S. squad suits up Friday night to face off against Paraguay in its opening contest in the 2026 World Cup, one Jewish player will be in the mix.
Goalkeeper Matt Turner is not only the lone Jew on the U.S. team but he could well be the only Jewish player in the entire tournament, which is being jointly hosted by the United States, Mexico and Canada starting on Thursday. It’s the first edition of the tournament to be hosted by three countries, and the first to feature 48 teams.
Israel did not qualify for the World Cup and hasn’t since 1970 — due, in part, to geopolitics that pushed its soccer federation to compete in the talented European body, not in Asia.
Jewish players DeAndre Yedlin and Daniel Edelman, who both play in the MLS and have previously played for the national team, are not on the roster this summer. Yedlin played with Turner in the ‘22 tournament in Qatar, where Turner, 31, was a star.
Turner, a New Jersey native, discovered his Jewish heritage by finding his paternal great-grandmother’s emigration papers that had allowed her to flee Lithuania during the Holocaust.
“Once I found the documents, I was certainly very, very excited,” Turner told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency in 2023. “America, in general, it’s a melting pot, and everybody has those roots elsewhere. So to understand your story, your history, a little bit is really nice.”
The revelation allowed him to obtain a Lithuanian passport, which made it easier for the goalie to pursue soccer opportunities in Europe. It also changed his relationship to his Jewish identity.
“The more my father and I dug, the more we learned, the more connected I felt to my Jewish side, the Jewish culture of my family,” Turner said at the time. “It really changed a lot of me.”
Turner, who now plays for the New England Revolution in MLS, started all four matches in 2022 for an American club that advanced to the Round of 16. He was the first American goalie with back-to-back shutouts in a World Cup since 1930.
Turner has 53 career appearances with the national team, with a 29-16-8 overall record, including 27 matches in which the opposing team did not score at all. He has also played in the Premier League and was the 2021 MLS Goalkeeper of the Year.
This time around, he is seen as less likely to start, following the ascent of a teammate to the top goalie slot. Still, he says he is moved to be part of the national team once more.
“I’ll probably cry when the national anthem goes,” he told FOX Sports. “It’s just such a huge honor — overwhelming honor — to be granted that responsibility to be on this team to do our best in those roles and ultimately, change soccer here forever.”
Although there are few Jews on the field during the 39-day tournament that ends July 19, one familiar Jewish face — or more accurately, voice — will return this year. Legendary Argentine broadcaster Andres Cantor, whose famous “Goooooooal” calls have helped popularize the sport in the United States, will be calling his 12th consecutive World Cup.
Cantor was born in Buenos Aires to a Romania-born mother and a father whose family fled the Nazis in Poland. He moved to the United States as a teenager and has publicly embraced his Jewish identity.
The post Meet Matt Turner, the only Jewish player on Team USA in the World Cup appeared first on The Forward.
