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‘There was no time to sleep’: 4 Jews reflect on a year of helping Ukrainians at war
(JTA) — In the months after Russian tanks rolled into her country last February, the music largely stopped for Elizaveta Sherstuk.
The founder of a Jewish choral ensemble called Aviv in her hometown of Sumy, in the northeastern flank of Ukraine, Sherstuk had to put singing aside in favor of her day job and personal mission: delivering aid to Jews in Sumy.
“There was no time to sleep,” Sherstuk recalled to the Jewish Telegraphic Agency recently. “All my team members worked the same, 24/7.”
A year later, Sherstuk is still hustling as the Sumy director of Hesed, a network of welfare centers serving needy Jews in the former Soviet bloc. But she has also begun teaching music classes again, too — with performances sometimes held in bomb shelters.
Catch up on all of JTA’s Ukraine war coverage from the last year here.
Sherstuk’s story reflects the ways that Russia’s war on Ukraine has affected Jews in Ukraine and beyond. The conflict has killed hundreds of thousands, left even more in peril and fundamentally altered the landscape and population of Ukraine, forcing millions to flee as refugees.
But the war has also mobilized the networks of Jewish aid and welfare groups across Europe, leading to a Jewish organizational response on a massive scale not seen in decades. And Ukrainian Jews who have remained in the country have recalibrated their lives and communities for wartime.
Here are four stories about Jews who stepped in and stepped up to help, and a taste of the on-the-ground situations they found themselves in.
‘I was needed there’
Enrique Ginzburg, second from right, is shown with Ukrainian doctors in Lviv. (Courtesy of Ginzburg)
Since nearly drowning at 23, Dr. Enrique Ginzburg has felt he “had to pay back” for the extra years of life he was granted.
Now 65, the professor of surgery at the University of Miami’s Miller School of Medicine and its trauma division has lent his critical care expertise in Haiti, Argentina, Kurdistan and Iraq, in various emergency situations. But until last year, he had never been to a war zone.
The Cuba native felt drawn to Ukraine because his grandfather is from Kyiv, while his grandmother is from nearby eastern Poland. So early on in the conflict, he called Dr. Aaron Epstein, an old friend and the founder of the nonprofit Global Surgical and Medical Supply Group.
“Get yourself a flak jacket, a helmet, a gas mask and come on over,” Ginzburg said Epstein told him.
He has been to Ukraine twice under the nonprofit’s auspices, last April and July. Ginzburg’s explanation for why he flew across the world to put himself in danger: “I was needed,” he said.
His base was an emergency hospital in Lviv, a city located west enough that it became a major refugee hub. He consulted with front-line Ukrainian physicians, many of them young and inexperienced, and hospital administrators, watching the doctors in action. He also visited patients in hospital wards and helped to treat gunshot wounds and assorted combat injuries.
Ginzburg’s bags were packed with meaningful supplies. Some had been requested by his Ukrainian colleagues for medical use, mostly specialized catheters. But he also brought tefillin, the phylacteries used by Jews in their morning prayers. Ginzburg, who studied in a yeshiva while young but no longer considers himself Orthodox, wrapped them every day while in Ukraine.
Even though Lviv was far from the fighting, he could hear air raid sirens and the explosion of the Russian missiles, sometimes feeling the earth shake. When intelligence reports warned Ginzburg’s medical team of impending missile attacks, they sought refuge in safe houses.
“Today,” he told the Miami Herald last June, “I was calling my life insurance [company] because I have young sons and my wife, so I’m trying to make sure I have good coverage.”
By the end of his trips, Ginzburg lost count of the number of doctors he helped train and the number of patients he saw. “I’m sure it’s hundreds.” He plans to make a third trip sometime this year.
‘This is our new reality’
Karina Sokolowska is the director of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee’s activities in Poland. (Courtesy of the JDC)
As the director of the JDC, or the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, in Poland, Karina Sokolowska has heard countless harrowing stories over the past year. But one sticks out in her memory.
It involved an elderly Ukrainian couple she met at the Poland-Ukraine border in late spring. The husband was in a wheelchair, and Sokolowska helped push him — back towards Ukraine. They had spent three months in a shelter in Poland but eventually “realized we cannot go looking for jobs, we cannot restart our lives. We are too old,” the woman said.
“If they are to die, they’d rather die back home,” Sokolowska said. “It’s a story of hopelessness. They are so vulnerable.”
Last year, about 8 million Ukrainian refugees made their way to Poland, the bordering country that accepted the most refugees. Early on in the conflict, Sokolowska contacted and visited Jewish communities throughout Poland, investigating the availability of places where the soon-to-be-homeless refugees could be housed. She also traveled to some of the border crossings where the Ukrainians entered, to arrange transportation to venues in Poland and to oversee the conditions in which the refugees would begin their new lives.
Later she would help with, among other things: arranging legal advice for the people who arrived with few identification documents; lining up medical care and drugs; finding them short- and long-term housing; connecting them to psychological counseling; providing kosher meals; and even caring for the refugees’ pets (“dogs and cats with no documents”).
According to JDC statistics, the organization “provided essential supplies and care” to 43,000 Jews in Ukraine and “aided 22,000+ people” there with “winter survival needs … more than double the amount served in previous years.” The welfare organization also claimed to provide “life-saving services” to more than 40,000 refugees in Poland, Moldova, Romania, Hungary, Bulgaria and other European locations. It also helped evacuate about 13,000 Jews from Ukraine. (Israeli Foreign Minister Eli Cohen recently said 15,000 Ukrainian Jews in total have immigrated to Israel since the start of the war.)
Karina Sokolowska, JDC director for Poland and Scandinavia sits in her office down the hall from a hotline room, in early March 2022. (Toby Axelrod)
At the height of the refugee flood, Sokolowska said her monthly JDC budget ballooned to more than what she previously spent in an entire year. Her office went from having a few employees to over 20. The amount of sleep she got decreased in tandem; she started taking sleeping pills to get rest when she could.
“This is our new reality” in Poland, she says of the JDC work with Ukrainian refugees. “This is our life now.”
Sokolowska, the granddaughter of Yiddish-speaking Holocaust survivors, became active in Jewish life during college, when a classmate heard her pronouncing some German words with a Yiddish accent and persuaded her to lead the Polish Union of Jewish Students. As JDC director for Scandinavian countries in addition to Poland, she typically organizes educational conferences and helps Jewish families learn about traditions they had not learned while growing up in the communist era.
Today, her sense of optimism has been ground down.
“Everything changed when war came to Ukraine — there is less hope,” Sokolowska said. “It’s a totally new everything. Every aspect of our life changed. Our hope for this to be over soon is going down, down, down. Nothing will change.”
‘It could [have been] me’
Tom and Darlynn Fellman volunteered in Krakow in October 2022. (Courtesy of Tom Fellman)
Sometime in the late 1890s, Harry Fellman, about 20 years old, left his home in Ukraine. According to family legend, he was a sharpshooter in the Ukrainian army and was about to be sent into active combat. Instead, he emigrated to the United States and settled in Omaha, Nebraska, where he became a peddler.
His grandson Tom Fellman — whose middle name is Harry — doesn’t know all the 120-year-old details, but he knows that he is grateful that Harry Fellman decided to leave Ukraine when he did.
“It could [have been] me, if my grandparents had not left when they did,” said Fellman, a successful real estate developer and philanthropist in Omaha.
In October, at 78 years old, Fellman made the reverse trip across the Atlantic to pitch in to the relief effort. He also wanted to pay what he sees as a debt to the memory of his late grandfather and to help the current generation of Ukrainian Jews.
He and his wife Darlynn served as volunteers for a week at the Krakow Jewish community center, joining hundreds (possibly thousands) of volunteers from overseas who have gone to Poland and the other nations in the region over the last year to participate in humanitarian programs on behalf of the millions of Ukrainian refugees. Fellman worked nine hours a day with a half-dozen fellow foreign volunteers in the basement of the community center, transferring the contents of “big, big” sacks of items like potatoes and sugar into small containers to be distributed to refugees in the building’s first-floor food pantry. His wife spent her time in an art therapy program that was set up for the refugee mothers and children to raise their spirits.
Fellman is “not particularly religious” but supports “anything Jewish.” In 1986, he accompanied a rescue mission plane of Soviet Jews headed to Israel. “It was the most rewarding experience of my life,” he recalled.
Fellman says he plans to return to Poland, in June, for the JCC’s annual fundraising bike ride from Auschwitz to Krakow.
What did his friends think of his septuagenarian volunteer stint? “They thought it was cool,” he said. “But none of them are going too.”
‘Everything was a risk’
Elizaveta Sherstuk runs a branch of Hesed, a network of welfare centers, in Sumy, Ukraine. (Courtesy of Sherstuk)
Sherstuk’s parents would have sent their daughter to a Jewish school in her early years if they had had the option. But Jewish education was not permitted In Sumy during the final years of communist rule in the Soviet republic. Sherstuk was exposed to Jewish life only at home.
Her parents infused her with a Jewish identity, she said, and her grandparents used to talk and sing songs in Yiddish. That inspired Sherstuk’s first career as a singer and a music teacher, during which she founded Aviv and took it on tour throughout the region singing traditional Jewish songs. Later, she became the director of Sumy’s branch of the JDC-funded Hesed network.
Sumy, an industrial city with a population of 300,000 before the war situated only 30 miles from the Russian border, was one of Russia’s first targets. In the days before the pending invasion, Sherstuk stockpiled food, which was certain to become scarce in case of war, and arranged bus transportation to safer parts of the country for hundreds of vulnerable civilians, mostly the elderly and disabled. The bus plan fell through for safety issues.
As the bombing started, it became dangerous for members of the local 1,000-member Jewish community, many of them elderly, to venture outside of their apartments. Sherstuk, working out of a bomb shelter, assisted by a Hesed network of volunteers, coordinated food and medicine deliveries.
The situation grew more dire, and she coordinated the Jewish community’s participation in a brief humanitarian corridor evacuation of vulnerable civilians that the Russians permitted. She communicated with Sumy residents mostly by smartphones provided by the JDC — the Russian attacks had cut the landlines — and accompanied the busloads of Sumy Jews to western Ukraine. Some of them eventually moved on to Israel, Germany, or other nearby countries, she said.
Sherstuk stayed in western Ukraine for a while (“The humanitarian corridors are only for one-way trips,” she noted), moving from place to place, keeping in touch with the Jews of Sumy and waiting for Ukraine’s army to make the trip back safe. But Sumy, like many Ukrainian cities, has come under frequent Russian rocket attack.
“Everything was a risk,” she said. “We were following whatever our hearts told us to do. We had to save people. I was the one who had to do it.”
Last May, Sherstuk was among 12 men and women (and the sole one from the Diaspora) who lit a torch at the start of Israel’s Independence Day in a government ceremony on Mount Herzl. During two weeks in Israel, she spent some time with members of her family, and held a series of meetings with JDC officials, government ministers and donors. “It was not a vacation,” she said.
After going back to Sumy, at the suggestions of her choral group members and fellow Sumy residents, she organized concerts in Hebrew, Yiddish, Ukrainian and Russian — some in person, some in a bomb shelter in the city’s central square, some online. She has now resumed her music classes, too, and it has all boosted morale. “I [teach] all the time,” she said.
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The Hasidic Rabbi that brings together Jews and Arabs
עס זײַנען דאָ אַזעלכע מענטשן װאָס מע טרעפֿט זײ רעגלמעסיק אױף דער גאַס, אין קאַפֿע, אַרום דער שטאָט. אַזױ איז בײַ מיר און הרבֿ הערשל גליק.
פֿון אױבן אױף, זעט אױס אַז מיר זײַנען גאַנץ אַנדערש, אײנער פֿונעם צװײטן. ער איז אַ חסיד; איך בין אַ ליבעראַלע ייִדישע. ער איז אַ רבֿ; איך בין אַ לערערקע, אַ דראַמאַטורגין און אַן אַקטריסע. פֿון דעסטװעגן, װױנען מיר בײדע אין סטאַמפֿאָרד־היל, דעם „װיליאַמסבורג“ פֿון לאָנדאָן, און אונדזערע קרײַזן דעקן זיך אַ מאָל.
הרבֿ גליק איז אָבער נישט קיין געוויינטלעכער רבֿ. אַחוץ זײַן אַרבעט צוצוציִען ייִדן צו ייִדישקייט פֿירט ער אָן מיטן „אַראַביש־ייִדישן פֿאָרום“ — אַן אָרגאַניזאַציע וואָס ער האָט געגרינדעט אַ יאָר פֿאַר 9/11 — װאָס ברענגט צונויף ייִדן מיט אַראַבער און מוסולמענער, כּדי אויפֿצוהאַלטן גוטע באַציִונגען צווישן זיי. אין 2025 האָט מען אַרויסגעלאָזט אַ נײַעם דאָקומענטאַר װעגן הרבֿ גליקס לעבן און אַרבעט. דעם פֿילם — „װי אַזױ צו לעבן בשלום מיט אַלעמען“ — האָט מען שױן געוויזן אין מיאַמי, אין לאָנדאָן און אין אַנדערע שטעט.
געשמועסט האָבן מיר בײַ אים אין שטוב. אין עסצימער, איז דער טיש אַרומגערינגלט מיט נישט װײניק פּאָליצעס, אָנגעפּאַקט מיט ספֿרים און ביכער. אין גאָרטן, אױפֿן גראָז, געפֿינט זיך אַ קאָמפּלעט הױדלקעס. װען איך בין אַרײַן אין הויז, האָט ער מיר סערװירט אַן ענגליש גלעזל טײ: אַ שװאַרצער „פֿרישטיקס־טײ“ מיט מילך און צוקער, מיט אַ פּאָר קיכעלעך אױף דער זײַט. אין מיטן אונדזער שמועס, זעענדיק אַז איך האָב נאָך נישט פֿאַרזוכט די קיכעלעך, זאָגט ער מיר, מיט אַ שמײכל׃ „זײ זײַנען נישט נאָר אױף צו קוקן!“ דאַן האָב איך זײ יאָ געגעסן, נישט װילנדיק אים באַלײדיקן.
הרבֿ גליק האָט אַ לאַנגע װײַסע באָרד, און ער טראָגט כּסדר אַ שװאַרץ־און־װײַסע קאַפּאָטע מיט אַ שװאַרצן קאַפּל אונטער אַ שוואַרצן הוט. ער האָט ליב צו זאָגן, אַז ער איז אַן עכטער לאָנדאָנער, װײַל ער איז געבױרן געװאָרן אין װעסטמינסטער־שפּיטאָל, נישט װײַט פֿון פּאַרלאַמענט און פֿון באַקינגהאַם־פּאַלאַץ.
בײדע עלטערן זײַנע האָבן געשטאַמט פֿון עסטרײַך. פֿון זײ — און די באָבע־זײדעס װאָס האָבן איבערגעלעבט דעם חורבן — האָט ער זיך אױסגעלערנט אַ מעריבֿ־ייִדיש. אײדער ער איז געװאָרן אַ רבֿ, האָט ער געלערנט אַ צען יאָר אין ישיבֿות אין ברונואַ (לעבן פּאַריז), אין ניו־יאָרק, אין ניו־דזשערזי און אין מאָנטרעאָל.
הרבֿ גליק האָט ליב זיך צו פֿאַרבינדן מיט נײַע מענטשן און נײַע קהילות, און ער איז נישט װײניק אַרומגעפֿאָרן. אין 2019 איז ער געװען דער ערשטער רבֿ װאָס האָט אַ מאָל געהאַלטן אַ רעפֿעראַט אין אַן אוניווערסיטעט אין פּאַקיסטאַן. פֿאַראַיאָרן, שמועסנדיק מיט מיר אױף דער גאַס, האָט ער געפֿרעגט פֿון װאַנען די משפּחה מײַנע קומט. אַז איך האָב מודה געװען אַז איך קען בלויז דעם ייִדישן נאָמען פֿון דער עלטער־באָבנס שטעטל, האָט ער מיך געפֿרעגט וואָס איז דער ייִדישער נאָמען, און גלײַך מיטגעטײלט אַז דאָס שטעטל איז אין הײַנטיקן אוקראַיִנע און אויך װי עס הײסט אױף אוקראַיִניש. סוף־כּל־סוף, האָב איך עס געקענט געפֿונען אױף דער מאַפּע.
בײַם סוף פֿון דער קאָמוניסטישער תּקופֿה אין מזרח־אײראָפּע, האָט ער זיך פֿאַרבונדן מיט דער ייִדישער קהילה, װאָס איז דעמאָלט געווען אין טשעכאָסלאָװאַקײַ. דאָרט האָט ער געפֿונען ייִדן, װאָס האָבן געװאָלט לערנען תּורה און תּלמוד.
„דאָס זײַנען געװען עלטערע ייִדן װאָס האָבן אין די קינדעריאָרן זיך געלערנט אין חדר, אין דער הײם“ — האָט הרבֿ גליק געזאָגט — „און מיט אַ מאָל האָבן זײ געהאַט אַ געלעגנהייט צו לערנען מיטן יונגן דור תּורה.“ צוליב דעם װאָס עס זײַנען נישט געװען קײן משניות אױף טשעכיש, האָט הרבֿ גליק געקױפֿט אַ קאָמפּלעט משניות איבערגעזעצט אויף ייִדיש פֿון שׂימחה פּעטרושקע (1893—1950). אַזױ אַרום, האָבן די װאָס האָבן נישט גוט געקענט לשון־קודש געקענט איבערזעצן יעדע משנה פֿון ייִדיש אױף טשעכיש, און ווײַטער לערנען.
הײַנט צו טאָג איז הרבֿ גליק דער עמערירטער רבֿ פֿון דער שיל „שערי מזל־טובֿ“ (װאַלפֿאָרד־ראָוד), לעבן סטאַמפֿאָרד־היל. פֿאַר דעם איז ער געװען דער רבֿ פֿון דער האַקני־שול, נישט װײַט פֿון יענער געגנט. ער איז אויך געווען דער בעל־הבית פֿונעם באַקאַנטן כּשרן בעקערײַ „פּאַרקװײ.“ זינט 2015 איז ער דער פּרעזידענט פֿון די שומרים פֿון סטאַמפֿאָרד־היל.
װי אַזױ איז אים אײַנגעפֿאַלן צו גרינדן דעם „אַראַביש־ייִדשן פֿאָרום“? נאָכן אַרבעטן אױף עטלעכע פּראָיעקטן װאָס שליסן שלום צװישן לענדער װי איראַן, קוּװײט, איראַק און ישׂראל־פּאַלעסטינע, זאָגט ער, „האָב איך זיך באַקענט און באַפֿרײַנדט מיט אַ סך אַראַבער, מוסולמענער און אַנדערע, אין דעם געגנט. און כ׳האָב געזען אַז מע קען אַרבעטן צוזאַמען — נישט נאָר אַז מע קען, נאָר אַז מע אַרבעט זײער געשמאַק צוזאַמען פֿאַר אַלגעמײנע זאַכן.“
ער האָט אָנגעהױבן טראַכטן פֿון די באַציִונגען צװישן ייִדן, אַראַבער און מוסולמענער אין ענגלאַנד, װוּ ער װױנט.
„מע אַרבעט צוזאַמען, און מע פֿאַרשטײט אײנער דעם צװײטן, און מע העלפֿט אײנער דעם צװײטן, און מע שטיצט אײנער דעם צװײטן,“ האָט הרבֿ גליק געזאָגט. „אָבער כ׳האָב געטראַכט אַז, פֿאָרט, [זײַנען] דאָ ענינים װאָס גראָבן אונטער די גוטע אַרבעט צװישן אונדז. מע דאַרף עפּעס מאַכן — גוטע פֿונדאַמענטן — כּדי אַז די גוטע צוזאַמען־לעבן און די גוטע מיטאַרבעט זאָל װײַטער גײן, בעזרת השם.“
נאָכן דורכרעדן דעם געדאַנק מיט פֿאַרשידענע ייִדישע און מוסולמענישע פֿירער אין לאָנדאָן, איז דער פֿאָרום געגרינדעט געוואָרן אין יאָר 2000.
לױט הרבֿ גליק, האָט דער פֿאָרום דערמעגלעכט בעסערע באַציִונגען צװישן דער מוסולמענישער, ייִדישער און אַראַבישער באַפֿעלקערונג אין לאָנדאָן, ספּעציעל אין און אַרום סטאַמפֿאָרד־היל. „מע גײט דאָ אין גאַס, און מע גײט דאָ אין געגנט — זעט מען נישט נאָר אַז ייִדן און מוסולמענער לעבן גוט אײנער לעבן צװײטן; מיר לעבן גוט אין אײנעם, ב״ה.“
הרבֿ גליק האַלט, אַז כאָטש ס׳איז זיכער דאָ מער אַנטיסעמיטיזם איצט װי פֿאַר די טעראָריסטישע אַטאַקן אויף ישׂראל דעם 7טן אָקטאָבער 2023 און דער מלחמה צווישן ישׂראל און די פּאַלעסטינער, איז נישטאָ קײן פֿאַרגלײַך צװישן אונדזערע צײַטן און די יאָרן פֿון דער נאַציסטישער תּקופֿה.
„װען מע קוקט װי ייִדן לעבן הײַנט, איבער דער גאַנצער װעלט, זײַנען דאָ שװעריקײטן — כ׳װײס פּונקט װאָס קומט פֿאָר, אפֿשר בעסער װי אַנדערע. אָבער איך האָב עלטערן װאָס האָבן מיטגעלעבט די 30ער יאָרן, און איך זאָג אײַך, אָן קײן שום ספֿק, אַז הײַנט איז נישט אַזױ װי אין די 30ער יאָרן.“
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Jon Ossoff romped to a second Senate term. Can he aim higher?
(JTA) — ATLANTA — Sen. Jon Ossoff’s soaring popularity and cruise to reelection last Tuesday have spurred speculation about his political future — and whether he might aim to become the first Jewish president of the United States.
Less than an hour after polls closed on Election Night, he was projected to handily defeat his Republican challenger Mike Collins. With a campaign focused on expanding affordability and fighting corruption, Ossoff built a broad coalition in one of the nation’s most diverse states, even earning endorsements from Republicans. Ultimately, he retained his seat by a margin of 59%-41%.
The leading polling analyst Nate Silver said Saturday that Ossoff was his “slam dunk number one pick” for a Democratic presidential candidate in 2028, despite Ossoff’s insistence that he has “zero interest in running for president.”
Ossoff’s Jewish supporters have expressed pride in his affirmation of Southern Jewish history while leading a state with a fervent Christian population. But other Jewish constituents have said they feel betrayed by his mounting criticism of Israel’s actions in Gaza, and it remains to be seen whether Georgia’s pro-Israel Jews would coalesce around Ossoff if he pursues the country’s highest office.
For Andrew Lewis, there’s no question that Ossoff is a worthy standard-bearer for the Jewish community. A board member of Atlanta’s oldest synagogue, the Temple — where Ossoff had his bar mitzvah — Lewis said the senator frequently cites the Temple’s role in the civil rights movement, a point of pride for Jewish Atlantans. In 1958, white supremacists bombed the Temple because its rabbi, Jacob Rothschild, advocated desegregation and allied with Martin Luther King Jr. Ossoff was sworn into the Senate on Rothschild’s well-worn bible.
“Our Rabbi Rothschild worked with Dr. King and helped shepherd Atlanta’s Jewish community, and our city and nation, through a very different yet equally divisive time,” said Lewis, who also co-founded the interfaith organization First Five Freedoms. “I take a great deal of pride in that, and I see every time Jon Ossoff speaks about it, he takes equal pride.”
Ossoff has said his entry into politics was interning for Rep. John Lewis, the late civil rights giant, which helped spur his career as an investigative documentarian before he ran for office himself.
Ossoff’s fellow Georgian in the Senate, Raphael Warnock, serves as a pastor at King’s former pulpit, Atlanta’s Ebenezer Baptist Church. When Ossoff and Warnock ran at the same time in the 2021 runoff elections for the state’s two Senate seats, they called attention to their rekindling of the Southern Black-Jewish alliance.
Elise Eplan, a former president of the American Jewish Committee chapter in Atlanta, said she appreciated Ossoff’s references to his Jewish identity. Ossoff has said that his father descended from Ashkenazi immigrants and he grew up among relatives who were Holocaust survivors.
“When you grow up in the South, it used to be harder to talk about not being Christian, and being really open about it,” said Eplan. “I have admired the fact that he’s not shied away from that.”
Ossoff during his 2021 run delivered a direct appeal to the state’s Jewish community in the Atlanta Jewish Times, saying that his Jewish upbringing instilled “a conviction to fight for the marginalized, the persecuted and the dispossessed.” He noted to JTA in 2019 that his wife, physician Alisha Kramer, is also Jewish. The couple started dating in high school, according to the Atlanta Journal-Constitution.
Two years ago, Ossoff faced blowback from Jewish institutions for supporting Sen. Bernie Sanders’ resolutions to block certain weapons sales to Israel. The local Anti-Defamation League Southeast chapter, the Jewish Federation of Greater Atlanta, the American Israel Public Affairs Committee and an array of synagogues said they were “deeply disappointed” by his votes for the resolutions, which did not pass. In 2025 and 2026, he voted for further measures to restrict offensive military aid to Israel, while supporting defensive arms sales.
Ossoff stood by those votes during a debate with Collins last month. He also said he had “no doubt” that Israeli forces committed war crimes in Gaza, deferring the charge of genocide as “a question for the International Criminal Court.”
Michael Morris, the publisher of the Atlanta Jewish Times, accused Ossoff in an open letter of “lying to me and your constituents” about his support for Israel by repeatedly voting against arms sales.
But when Ossoff emerged triumphant on Tuesday, the ADL offered him congratulations — despite denouncing other victorious Israel critics.
ADL Southeast Director Todd Young rebuked Collins, Ossoff’s opponent, for links to white nationalists. “This race also underscored the importance of confronting antisemitism in Georgia politics,” he said in a statement. “Throughout the campaign, serious concerns emerged about individuals close to Mike Collins.”
Collins’ former staffers were accused of posting racist and antisemitic imagery and participating in a white nationalist group chat, while his son-in-law promoted antisemitic conspiracy theories online. Those controversies might have muffled Jewish groups’ objections to Ossoff’s voting record on Israel, according to Rebecca Stoil, a professor of U.S. political history at Clemson University.
“Ossoff, and his candidacy with Jewish voters, was benefited by the clear concerns that Jewish voters had with Collins,” said Stoil, a member of Atlanta’s Jewish community.
In his 2021 campaign, Ossoff accused his then-opponent, Sen. David Perdue, of antisemitic dog whistling after a campaign ad depicting Ossoff with an elongated nose.
Ossoff says that he supports the security of Israelis as well as the safety and security of Palestinians. In a Senate speech in November 2023, he said, “Just as I pray for the freedom of hostages taken so cruelly from their families, as a pro-Israel Jewish American I urge mercy for the innocent civilians in Gaza.”
As a rising left flank of his party presses for the end of the U.S.-Israel alliance, Ossoff continues to define himself as “pro-Israel.” He argued last month that before sending weapons to any ally, the United States should assess “whether that foreign government is acting consistent with our interests, our laws and our values.”
Ossoff’s argument that one can be pro-Israel even while conditioning U.S. aid has been increasingly embraced by the center of the Democratic Party, according to political scientist Dov Waxman. He pointed to surveys that capture a drop in sympathy for Israel among Americans, including American Jews.
A new poll from J Street, a liberal Jewish Middle East policy group, reported that 39% of Jewish voters said defensive aid for Israel should continue with conditions, while 31% said all military aid should end and 30% said aid should continue without conditions. Among Jews under 35, 60% supported severing military aid and said that Israel has committed genocide in Gaza.
Waxman said those trends spelled both parties moving away from traditionally stalwart pro-Israel positions of delivering offensive and defensive aid to Israel with few conditions.
“I think Ossoff’s position is really the mainstream position now in the Democratic Party — the center of gravity,” said Waxman. “Which is to say, a position that broadly supports the continuation of the U.S.-Israel alliance, but is not willing to write a blank check for Israel, and is not willing to support what the Israeli government does unconditionally.”
Eplan, the former AJC leader, said she was initially “concerned” about Ossoff’s votes to block offensive weapons sales in 2024. But three years into Israel’s prosecution of the war in Gaza under Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, she said, “I understand it.”
“Unfortunately, under Netanyahu, it has become more and more difficult to be pro-Israel in the way we always have been historically,” said Eplan. “I do think that we need leaders who understand some of the nuance, and who are willing when necessary to take a tough stand, but at the end of the day understand the importance of Israel as our ally and as a Jewish homeland.”
If Ossoff decides to run for president, it would be in a new world of U.S.-Israel relations. Democrats are not alone in increasingly scrutinizing the alliance. Republican Vice President J.D. Vance blamed his party’s crushing defeats in the midterm elections partly on “our relationship to Israel” and the Iran war, which the United States joined with Israel. (Ossoff, like other Democrats across the country, has excoriated Trump for “lying a nation into war” and sending “prices soaring with his warmongering in the Middle East.”)
Trump announced on Election Day that the United States would halt military aid to Israel by the end of 2026, saying that Republicans “suffer the slings” from Democrats over the issue.
“Now it is the policy both of the incumbent administration and of people like Jon Ossoff to limit aid to Israel,” said Stoil. “For voters who did care so much about Israel that it was going to be their basis for voting, the moment it becomes a bipartisan consensus to cut off aid, then you pick what most closely represents you on the other topics.”
Meanwhile, Israel is undergoing its own political change following elections on Oct. 27. The next president of the United States could be dealing with a new Israeli government after Netanyahu’s rival, Gadi Eisenkot, scored enough seats and endorsements from other parties to seek to form a new governing coalition.
Pro-Israel groups in the United States are already retooling for the next stage of relations. Kathy Manning, a former North Carolina congresswoman who chairs the advocacy group Democratic Majority for Israel, hopes that a new Israeli government will pave the way for a renewed alliance that Democrats like Ossoff can support.
“If the current government, Netanyahu and his far-right extremists, continue to be the leaders of Israel, I think that it’s going to be very tough for many Democrats to continue to stand shoulder to shoulder,” said Manning. “If the government of Israel changes and we see a Gadi Eisenkot coalition moving forward, I think that’ll be an opportunity for us to rebuild the U.S.-Israel relationship.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
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Socialists plan to ‘break’ the US-Israel alliance after winning big in the midterms
The Democratic Socialists of America is looking to use its growing influence to push for a full arms embargo against Israel and ultimately “break” the longstanding alliance between the U.S. and the Jewish state, party leaders said during a recent post-election organizing call after expanding its presence in Congress to eight members once midterm winners are sworn in.
During the call, Kareem Ellerfi, a member of DSA’s National Political Committee, said the newly elected House members will “ensure that Palestine is not forgotten, it’s not left behind, and that we’re fighting to break the U.S.-Israel relationship.” Ellerfi recently returned from a Palestinian solidarity mission that began in Jordan. The delegation had planned to travel to Ramallah in the West Bank but was detained by Israeli authorities while attempting to cross the border and sent back to Jordan.
The call featured three newly elected members of the House — Chris Rabb of Pennsylvania, Claire Valdez of New York and Angela Gonzalez Torres of California — and DSA organizers who said the election results showed that candidates could win while openly opposing Israel and advocating for Palestinian rights.
“Campaigns like mine showed that moral clarity on the genocide in Gaza and an economic populist agenda would win over voters who stayed home in 2024 or who voted for Donald Trump,” said Valdez, whose district includes parts of Brooklyn and Queens. She said a “free Palestine” was among her top agenda items.
A shifting landscape on Israel
The DSA victories come as American support for Israel faces growing divisions across the political spectrum, including among young Jewish Americans.
A growing number of progressive House members already back ending all U.S. aid to Israel, including funding for Israel’s Iron Dome defense system. Earlier this year, 103 of 212 Democrats supported a measure to eliminate the annual military assistance to Israel and another 10 abstained. Dozens also co-sponsored a pair of measures – the Block the Bombs Act and Ceasefire Compliance Act – that would restrict certain offensive arms sales to Israel and increase oversight of Israel’s policies in the occupied West Bank and in Gaza.
Republicans have also voiced support for phasing out military assistance to Israel and moving toward a relationship in which Israel purchases American weapons without financial assistance. Some Republicans have grown increasingly isolationist during the conflicts with Iran, which some in the party blame on Israel.
On Election Day, President Donald Trump announced that he and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu had agreed to end the roughly $3.8 billion in annual U.S. military aid to Israel by the end of this year — two years before the current 10-year memorandum of understanding expires in Sep. 2028. Secretary of State Marco Rubio said Monday that Israel is “rich enough” to purchase needed weapons.
But DSA leaders made clear that their goals go much further. They want a complete arms embargo and an end to the U.S.-Israel alliance.
The organization quadrupled its presence in the House in Tuesday’s midterm elections, with six new members joining Reps. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez of New York and Rashida Tlaib of Michigan. DSA also celebrated victories in local races, announcing that more than 100 socialists now hold lower-level offices across more than 37 states. Its growing influence includes Los Angeles Mayor-elect Nithya Raman and D.C. Mayor-elect Janeese Lewis George, who join New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani, elected last year.
Among the priorities on the call were forcing a vote on the Block the Bombs Act and challenging Senate Democratic leader Chuck Schumer and House Democratic leader Hakeem Jeffries, both longtime supporters of Israel.
With Democrats holding a sizable majority in the House, DSA members may not have the votes to pass key legislation. But their presence in Congress and alliance with the Progressive Caucus, which has increased to more than 100 members, could give them a louder voice in shaping the party’s future on Israel and U.S. military aid.
Rabb, who made criticism of Israel and opposition to AIPAC central to his congressional campaign, was defiant. “People think that we can’t do what we do,” he said. “And to those people, I say, get the f–k out of the way and let us do what we need to do.”
A post-election survey of 800 Jewish voters, conducted by the Mellman Group for the Jewish Electorate Institute, found that 24% of Jewish Democrats see their party as “becoming too much of a home for socialists and the far left.”
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