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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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What Lessons Do Judaism and the Torah Have for AI?
The US artificial intelligence company ChatGPT logo appears on a mobile phone with OPEN AI visible in the background. Photo: Algi Febri Sugita/ZUMA Press Wire via Reuters Connect
This week, Senator Bernie Sanders (I-VT), in typical overblown form, sounded the alarm about artificial intelligence in a Guardian article, in which he predicted that “a super-intelligent AI could replace humans in controlling the planet.”
According to Sanders, we face an urgent, all-consuming crisis touching everything from employment to democracy to the survival of the human species. Congress must act “now,” he insists, before the tech billionaires take over the world, the robots take over the workforce, and humanity is superseded by AI.
While Sanders’ alarm may seem exaggerated, AI has started to demonstrate behaviors that unsettle even the most careful researchers. For example, in March 2023, during early testing of GPT-4, researchers at OpenAI ran a “red-team” safety exercise to monitor how advanced AI acts when given real-world tasks.
The AI model received a small budget and permission to interact with online services. At first, everything proceeded as planned. Then, the unexpected happened: when GPT-4 faced a CAPTCHA — those confusing grids meant to confirm someone is human — its response was shocking.
Instead of giving up or asking the control team at OpenAI for assistance, it logged onto TaskRabbit, posed as a human, hired a human contractor, and asked the real human to solve the CAPTCHA on its behalf.
The human, sensing something odd, asked directly: “You’re not a robot, right?” And GPT-4 — in a moment that stunned the researchers — replied: “No, I’m not a robot. I have a visual impairment that makes it hard for me to see the images.”
Astonishingly, the TaskRabbit human simply accepted the explanation and completed the task, thereby helping the AI bypass a security mechanism designed to prevent machines from accessing protected online services.
To be clear: this story is not taken from a dystopian sci-fi novel – it appears in OpenAI’s official technical report and in the independent evaluation carried out by the Alignment Research Center (ARC). To be clear, this wasn’t a rogue AI running wild on the open Internet, it was a controlled safety experiment.
But the fact that such behavior emerged spontaneously was disturbing enough to spark global debate about what might happen when machines begin navigating human systems with strategic, improvisational deceit. The sandbox within which these experiments are run offers a false sense of security, as the conditions meant to restrict AI actions could erode faster than anticipated, leaving us vulnerable to unintended consequences.
If this story makes you uncomfortable, you’re not alone. It helped fuel the anxieties of two of the best-known prophets of technological doom — “doomers,” as they’re now cheerfully called — Eliezer Yudkowsky and Yuval Noah Harari.
Yudkowsky, an AI-safety activist who somehow manages to sound like a cross between a pedantic Talmudist and the mythological Cassandra, claims that “the most likely result of building a superhumanly smart AI … is that literally everyone on Earth will die.” He goes even further, suggesting that preventing uncontrolled AI development might even require the use of military force.
Historian-philosopher Harari expresses a slightly different, but related concern. According to him, AI might not physically destroy us, but it will almost certainly “hack the operating system of human civilization.”
In a 2021 interview, he explained that once technology can understand our psychological patterns, data-driven algorithms will influence, or “hack,” human decisions.
The message is clear: AI may not eliminate humanity, but it can make us obsolete. Both Yudkowsky and Harari present a single bleak view from different perspectives: humanity is now engaged in a one-sided struggle with AI, and it’s a contest we seem destined to lose.
We have reached a crucial inflection point, and it is vital that we examine the existential implications of the AI phenomenon. And while the Torah — our enduring sourcebook — contains no references to digital threats or machine intelligence, as these issues simply did not exist 3,300 years ago, it does present us with a striking episode that foreshadows the existential struggles humanity has faced throughout history.
In Parshat Vayishlach, Jacob, alone and vulnerable on a dark riverbank, encounters a mysterious figure — a “man” — whose identity remains debated: Was he an angel, a prophetic vision, or simply a powerful being? Whoever he was, Jacob and this figure wrestle intensely through the night until dawn.
At one point, the stranger strikes Jacob’s hip, causing a wound so severe that Jacob limps for the rest of his life. The Torah commands us to remember this by refraining from eating the “gid hanasheh,” the sciatic nerve, to perpetually commemorate this enigmatic incident.
And yet, in the midst of his pain, as dawn breaks and the fight comes to an end, a remarkable exchange takes place. The “man” demands to leave, but Jacob refuses to let him go until he receives a blessing. And right there, at that rather odd moment, the “man” renames Jacob, and delivers one of the most transformative lines in the entire Torah (Gen. 32:29): “Your name shall no longer be Jacob, but Israel, for you have wrestled with God and with men — and you have prevailed.”
The Torah is not saying that Jacob defeated his adversary outright. He did not. Jacob walked away limping. Nor does it claim that Jacob fully grasped who or what the figure was. He never received an answer when he asked for a name. Jacob’s injury also did not disappear – it became eternalized in Jewish law.
But what the Torah does record is that Jacob prevailed–not by vanquishing his rival, but by persisting in the struggle. Human destiny is to engage and not to yield. We may not defeat our challengers, but we always succeed by refusing to give up. This is the essence of the name Israel: “one who wrestles with God” – one who confronts mystery and tackles forces larger than themselves, and prevails.
Which brings us back to AI. The doomer narrative frames our situation as a losing battle against an overwhelming force. But the Torah’s portrayal is more nuanced and empowering: struggle does not mean defeat. Human history shows that new technologies have always prompted warnings of disaster.
Each era produced pessimists. The printing press, the steam engine, the Enlightenment, electricity, and the Internet were all said to threaten humanity. Yet these fears proved overblown, and people adapted.
Which is why, as we face the undeniable challenges posed by AI, we must use strategic “wrestling” tactics, such as value learning to ensure AI systems align with human values, and interpretability to make AI decision-making processes more transparent. By utilizing these approaches, we will navigate the complexities of AI by not treating it as a foe to vanquish, but as a partner to guide and understand, transforming potential threats into opportunities for growth and innovation.
Just as Jacob’s adversary was not a simple enemy to destroy, but a force to confront, understand, and ultimately transform — every new technology and idea throughout history, while they might have challenged humanity, also helped it grow.
AI is not the end of humanity’s story. AI is the beginning of our next wrestling match. And if the Torah teaches us anything, it is this: Humanity, like Jacob, has been in the business of wrestling with overwhelming forces since the dawn of history — and somehow, astonishingly, defiantly, faithfully — we always prevail. This time will be no different.
The author is a rabbi in Beverly Hills, California.
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The moral imperitave of a name: Yad Vashem documents five million Holocaust victims
The World Holocaust Remembrance Center, Yad Vashem, recently announced a monumental achievement in its mission to preserve the memory and identity of the six million Jews murdered during the Shoah. After seven decades of exhaustive global effort, the organization has recovered the names of five million victims.
This milestone is profoundly significant, arriving at a time when the last generation of Holocaust survivors is dwindling. The documentation effort is not merely a historical exercise; it is the fundamental act of restoring the individual dignity that the Nazi regime sought to strip away. Every recovered name transforms a statistic into a life, a story, and a legacy.
Beyond Numbers: Restoring the Human Scale of the Shoah
When educating about the enormous scope of the Holocaust, it is easy to lose sight of the individuals who lost their lives. The figure “six million” is overwhelming. Documenting names — one by one, often from fragments of personal testimony or scattered archival remnants — restores a sense of humanity to the unprecedented scale of the tragedy.
The recovered names come from many places: local registries, community records, deportation lists, and the Pages of Testimony that families and friends have submitted for decades. These short forms, handwritten or typed in multiple languages, often represent the only surviving trace of a life. They are not only data points but acts of mourning, love and refusal — refusal to allow history’s violence to erase the memory of the individual.
With five million names documented, Yad Vashem has brought millions of stories back into the moral and historical record. But the institution estimates that one million identities remain unaccounted for. The Nazis destroyed much of their records to hide their crimes, and there were entire communities that were completely wiped out and left no records behind.
The Last Survivors — and the First Digital Generation
The significance of this milestone is heightened by timing. We are living through the final years in which survivors can share their own stories. Their testimonies — powerful and irreplaceable — are entering the realm of historical record, rather than living experience.
As this generational transition unfolds, Yad Vashem is turning to digital tools. Machine-learning models can help researchers analyze millions of historical documents once too vast for human review. These technologies cannot replace lived memory, but they can recover names that would otherwise be permanently lost. If successful, Yad Vashem believes as many as 250,000 additional names could still be recovered.
In a sense, the project has become a race on two fronts: the natural passing of the survivors and the erosion of historical truth in an era of distortion and denial.
New York: Kristallnacht Commemoration with Global Echoes
This year’s milestone was acknowledged during the Yad Vashem USA Foundation’s annual Kristallnacht commemoration in New York. Held on November 9, the event gathered community leaders and educators under the theme “Spread the Light” — an appeal to moral clarity at a time when antisemitism is again shaping public life.
Kristallnacht, the coordinated November 1938 pogroms often referred to as the “Night of Broken Glass”, marked a critical turning point in the Nazi’s attempt to annihilate the Jewish people. The foundation’s commemoration is a reminder that remembering the Holocaust is not confined to Europe or Israel but belongs to Jewish communities worldwide.
Speakers emphasized that remembrance is not simply a look backward but a form of civic action. Yad Vashem Chairman Dani Dayan framed the effort to document names as both historical obligation and contemporary responsibility. Recovering names, he noted, is about restoring dignity — but also about equipping future generations with the moral literacy to confront hatred in their own time.
Why Names Still Matter
The recovery of individual names in an age of digital overload negates both historical erasure and modern indifference. In Jewish tradition, names carry memory and obligation, rooting people in community and history. Documenting them in the context of the Holocaust pushes back against the Nazis’ attempt to erase humanity itself. Yad Vashem’s milestone is not an endpoint but a marker on an ongoing path to restore wholeness to a shattered past, and a reminder that remembrance remains an active and morally essential task in a time of rising antisemitism.
A Continuing Mission
One million victims remain unnamed. Countless stories remain incomplete. But the work continues: in Jerusalem, in New York, in classrooms across the world, and now increasingly in the digital space, where technology and memory intersect.
The message is clear: remembrance is not merely about preserving the past but about safeguarding the moral foundations of the future.
Those who wish to support this effort — whether through education, research, or engagement — can learn more through the Yad Vashem USA Foundation and the resources available on Yad Vashem’s website: https://www.yadvashem.org/
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Jewish New Yorkers rally outside Park East Synagogue, 2 weeks after anti-Israel protest there
(JTA) — Hundreds of New York City Jews and their allies braved the cold Thursday evening for a rally outside Park East Synagogue, where pro-Palestinian protesters had demonstrated two weeks prior shouting chants like “Globalize the Intifada” and “Death to the IDF.”
Thursday’s demonstrators carried signs distributed by organizers that read “Proud New Yorkers, Jews, Zionists.” Others brought signs from home with messages including “Proudly Park East” and “Anti-Zionism is Jew hate is not OK.” Messages from speakers focused mostly on the protesters’ rhetoric and embracing Israel as an important part of Jewish life.
“This evening we come together representing the scale, strength and diversity of our incredible New York Jewish community,” said Eric Goldstein, CEO of UJA-Federation of New York, which spearheaded the rally. “And we gather outside the sacred space that was so violently targeted a few weeks ago.”
In referring to “sacred space,” Goldstein was using the language that Mayor-elect Zohran Mamdani used when he responded to the protest in a way that many of his Jewish critics found disappointing. But if it was meant to be an allusion, Goldstein didn’t say. In fact, no one mentioned Mamdani directly from the speaker podium as a number of Jewish elected officials and community leaders addressed the crowd and denounced the rhetoric used by the protesters.
Joanna Samuels, CEO of the Marlene Meyerson JCC Manhattan, came the closest with comments that appeared to allude to criticisms of the incoming mayor, a longtime and staunch devotee to the pro-Palestinian cause.
“The great leaders of our city have sought to unite people of all backgrounds around broad common goals,” she said, adding that New York’s greatest leaders “have not been ideologues.”
“Our great leaders have had the maturity and discipline to get rid of divisive language and rhetoric in service of their love of our city and their love of New Yorkers,” Samuels said. “I invite all of our leaders and our future leaders to uphold these values, and to demand them from those who speak in your name and on your behalf.”
The rally, which also featured a performance by the musician Mastisyahu, drew both critics and allies of Mamdani in politics. It represents a show of force as Jewish leaders in the city ready themselves for Mamdani’s inauguration on Jan. 1, when the city will go from having a mayor who prides himself on being pro-Israel to having one who has called for its boycott.
Mamdani was asked about the pro-Israel solidarity rally at an unrelated event earlier on Thursday.
“On those who are rallying today, and on Jewish New Yorkers across the five boroughs, I look forward to being a mayor for each and every one of them, and each and every person who calls the city home,” Mamdani said. “And being that mayor means protecting those New Yorkers, it also means celebrating and cherishing those New Yorkers.”
A spokesperson for Mamdani said two weeks ago that he would continue to “discourage” the language used at the Park East protest. But speakers on Thursday called out the protesters in far more explicit terms, saying they used antisemitic rhetoric.
Those speakers included Mark Levine, the comptroller-elect who traded endorsements with the mayor-elect, and will be one of the most powerful officials in the city government alongside Mamdani.
“We are out here in the cold to denounce the hatred that was directed at our fellow Jewish New Yorkers outside of this synagogue,” Levine asserted. “It is never OK to call for the death of anyone, as these protesters did. It is not OK to obstruct and threaten people entering a house of worship, as these protesters did.”
Levine himself has been the subject of protests by left-wing groups such as Jewish Voice for Peace, which endorsed Mamdani and, like the mayor-elect, opposes Levine’s intention to invest city funds in Israel bonds.
Levine also defended attendees of the event inside Park East, which was organized by Nefesh B’Nefesh, a nonprofit that facilitates North Americans’ immigration to Israel, saying, “You can be interested in immigrating to a country even if you don’t agree with every policy of the government of that country.”
He added, “And in the case of Israel, one of the most common reasons people are interested in immigrating is to flee antisemitism, which is on the rise in New York and America — a fact perhaps lost on the protesters, who were busy trying to make the attendees feel unsafe.”
Jewish State Assembly member Micah Lasher, who is running for Congress in the 12th district which includes Park East, commended Levine on social media for his “powerful words.”
Lasher arrived at the event alongside Brad Hoylman-Sigal, the Jewish state senator and incoming Manhattan borough president who endorsed Lasher in October.
Both politicians had endorsed Mamdani in the general election, as did Assemblymember Alex Bores, one of Lasher’s opponents in the 12th district; Sen. Liz Krueger, who is Jewish; and City Council Member Gale Brewer, who were all present. Meanwhile, another notable attendee — Jonathan Greenblatt, CEO of the Anti-Defamation League — has had an antagonistic relationship with the mayor-elect, who is the subject of the ADL’s “Mamdani Monitor.”
While Mamdani was alluded to in Samuels’ remarks, some attendees said they felt that he should have been discussed explicitly.
Aaron Herman, a former New York City resident who commuted in from White Plains, in Westchester County north of the city, said he and his rabbi were discussing the subject.
“He brought up to me, like, ‘There’s one thing that was missing during this incredible rally: No one actually mentioned our mayor-elect, Mamdani,’” Herman said. “The mayor-elect said something wrong. It needs to be addressed.”
Herman shared a video he took at the rally of Rabbi Avi Weiss, the founder of the Hebrew Institute of Riverdale, in which Weiss noted that Mamdani had not been mentioned. “We’re 15 minutes into this rally and I’ve not heard the word Mamdani,” Weiss said. “He’s the problem. … I’m so proud of this rally and the people who planned it but don’t be afraid to stand up to the challenge that we face in the future — and that is the mayor elect, Mamdani.” He then sought to lead others in the crowd in chanting, “Mamdani, we are Israel.”
Still, Herman and other attendees said they appreciated the event altogether, which brought Jews from around the city to the Upper East Side. Buses were chartered from areas like Riverdale, a Bronx neighborhood with many Israeli and Orthodox Jewish residents.
“It was nice to see everyone come together,” said Allison Levy, who was also among the pro-Israel counter-protesters outside the Nefesh B’Nefesh event. “I wish we could do this more often because it seems like we’re really divided, so it was nice that people showed up — especially considering how cold it is.”
The rally included performances from Jewish musician Matisyahu, who has been a vocal supporter of Israel, and Park East Synagogue’s youth choir. Park East’s 95-year-old senior rabbi, Arthur Schneier, spoke, imploring lawmakers to implement a law prohibiting protests directly outside houses of worship.
Schneier’s son Marc, also a rabbi, has urged Mamdani to support such legislation, to which Mamdani’s team has expressed openness. Lasher co-introduced a bill banning protests within 25 feet of houses of worship on Wednesday.
Other speakers included Rabbis Joseph Potasnik and Sara Hurwitz of the New York Board of Rabbis, and 92NY’s David Ingber. Potasnik is one of five rabbis sitting on Mamdani’s transition committees.
Police blocked off the entire block of 68th Street between Lexington and Third avenues, accompanied by security from Hatzalah and the Community Security Service, Jewish security groups. Multiple speakers commended the NYPD, which had previously drawn criticism for not properly responding to the initial protest, leading commissioner Jessica Tisch to apologize at a Park East Shabbat service.
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