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This Bedouin bus driver is credited with saving 30 people from the outdoor party massacre

(JTA) — Every day at 4 p.m., Youssef Ziadna receives a phone call from a psychologist. Every evening, he sits on his balcony drinking coffee, smoking, and replaying in his mind the worst things he has ever seen.
The daily routine would have been unimaginable for Ziadna, a 47-year-old Bedouin Israeli resident of Rahat, just two weeks ago. A minibus driver, he filled his days ferrying passengers around Israel’s southern region.
But on Oct. 7, he was called to pick up one of his regular customers and raced headlong in Hamas’ brutal attack on Israel. He ended up rescuing 30 people, all Jewish Israelis, from the massacre at the outdoor party near Israel’s southern border, dodging bullets and veering off-road to bring them to safety.
“I would never wish on anyone to see what I saw,” Ziadna told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. “This is trauma for my whole life. When I sit alone and recollect, I can’t help the tears.”
Ziadna has joined an emerging pantheon of heroes who were able to carry out daring feats of rescue during a chaotic, dangerous and bloody attack in which thousands of Israelis were killed, wounded or taken captive. One of the people he saved posted about him on social media shortly afterwards.
Ziadna is “a larger-than-life man to whom we will forever be indebted,” Amit Hadar wrote in Hebrew in a post that was shared widely starting on Oct. 7. “When, with God’s help, we reach better days, save the number for the next time you need a ride — if anyone deserves it, this person does.”
Yet at the same time, Ziadna is grieving a cousin who was murdered during the attack and worrying about four other family members who remain missing. He also received a threat from someone who claimed to be affiliated with Hamas, vowing retaliation for Ziadna’s efforts to save Jews after they were recounted in a local newspaper. And he is concerned that his fellow Bedouins, a minority that remains marginalized in many ways within Israeli society, are at risk given the lack of bomb shelters in Rahat.
The stress of it all has already sent him to the emergency room with chest pains — but he is determined to press on.
“When I think about it, I ask how did we get out of there,” Ziadna recalled Monday, 10 days after the massacre. “I guess it’s fate that we’re meant to live longer in this world.”
Ziadna started Oct. 7 early, driving Hadar and eight of his friends from the town of Omer to the rave at Kibbutz Re’im at 1 a.m. He left with the instruction to pick them up the following day at 3 p.m.
But at 6 a.m. he received a call for help from Hadar. Believing that the call for help was due to a code red for incoming rockets fired from Gaza, Ziadna raced to his bus.
“I didn’t wash my face, I didn’t even get dressed,” Ziadna said. “This is standard over here in the south.”
A dead body on the grounds of the Tribe of Nova music festival after the Oct. 7, 2023, deadly attack by Hamas. (Ilia Yefimovich/picture alliance via Getty Images)
But as soon as he reached the Sa’ad junction, a mile away from Kfar Aza, one of the Gaza border communities that experienced some of the worst horrors of the Oct. 7 massacre, a new picture began to emerge. A man who had escaped from the party ran towards him, furiously signaling to Ziadna to make a U-turn. Ziadna, not comprehending, exited the minibus to speak to him. Moments later, Ziadna, the man and a woman who accompanied him were caught in gunfire.
“Bullets were flying everywhere,” Ziadna said, adding that the three dived into a ditch on the side of the road. He said, “I raised my head and the guy told me, ‘Why are you doing that? You’ll get a bullet in your brain!’”
Ziadna told the disbelieving couple that he would continue on to the site of the party. “I stared death in the face,” he said. “But I knew I couldn’t give up on my missions. I will go and rescue them.”
Navigating through bullet fire, Ziadna managed to reach his passengers at the scene of the party in Re’im where an inferno of bodies, blood and bullets reigned. “I told them to bring as many as possible,” he said. Twenty-four additional people crammed into the 14-seater vehicle, and on the way, they rescued another couple, one of whom had been shot in the leg. Ziadna says he also caught sight of a motorized Hamas paraglider hovering above, spraying bullets with a machine gun at revelers.
Under constant gunfire, the minibus sped away. Ziadna’s intimate knowledge of the terrain proved lifesaving, and he was able to cut a route through dirt roads, avoiding the main thoroughfare where terrorists were ambushing escapees. Many other cars took his lead and followed the minibus, he said.
Cries of terror and anguish filled his minibus as its occupants nursed their wounds and tried desperately to call loved ones amid jammed cellular signals. They arrived at a roadblock manned by police. Saying there was no way of getting to the hospital to treat the wounded woman because the route was overrun with terrorists, an officer directed them to a nearby kibbutz, Tze’elim, where they remained until the late afternoon when the Home Front Command finally said it was safe to leave.
Hadar confirmed Ziadna’s account but declined to speak further to JTA.
Four hundred people from the party took refuge in the kibbutz and, according to Ziadna, were looked after well. “They gave us everything we needed, food, chargers and even cigarettes,” he said.
A member of the Bedouin community stands next to vehicles destroyed by a rocket fired from the Gaza Strip in the village of Arara in the Negev Desert, Oct. 14, 2023. (Yuri Cortez/AFP via Getty Images)
Finally, Ziadna made it back to Rahat where his home, like the overwhelming majority in the city, has no reinforced safe room. Home to 75,000 Bedouins, Rahat has only 10 public bomb shelters — a fact that its mayor, Ata Abu-Madighem, has lamented for years. On Tuesday, Abu-Madighem filed a request for 60 mobile shelters.
According to Abu-Madighem, who met with Ziadna to thank him several days after the attack together with representatives from the army and the police, three Rahat residents were killed on Oct. 7, two of whom were the mayor’s relatives. One was Ziadna’s: Abed Ruhman was murdered by Hamas terrorists while sleeping in a tent on Zikim beach, Ziadna said.
Seven people from Rahat were wounded, including a second-grader who was shot in the chest. A further five are reported missing, four from the Ziadna family, Abu-Madighem said. (The hundreds of known hostages in Gaza include Bedouins, and Hamas has also been holding an Israeli Bedouin, Hisham al-Sayed, captive since 2015, when he wandered by foot into Gaza.)
The biggest risk, the mayor said, is to those who live in unrecognized tent villages in the region, which have no protection at all from projectiles.
“The state must make a mental switch and start respecting the Bedouin community. It’s also foolish to continue to refuse to plug into the massive manpower we have here,” he told JTA.
Ziadna hopes his actions will prompt greater appreciation and support for the Bedouin community. “After this, the government needs to do a better job of looking after us because we’re also part of this nation,” he said. “We are one people — we are Israelis. We live here together and we need to go hand in hand.”
For now, he is seeking to bolster his mental health and to put aside concerns about the death threat he received. “He told me, ‘You saved 30 Jews’ lives. I’m from Gaza but don’t worry, we’ll get to you,’” Ziadna recounted.
Abu-Madighem confirmed the call to JTA and Ziadna said the Israel Police are investigating its source; police spokespeople did not respond to requests for comment. Other Israeli Arabs who have gained public attention for helping Jewish victims of the attack have faced retribution alongside plaudits.
More substantial than the threats, Ziadna said, have been an overwhelming number of messages of support, which he said have come from all over the world. He made a public appearance alongside Yair Golan, a retired general and former lawmaker who engaged in feats of rescue of his own. He has also been invited by Israel’s embassy in Dubai to tell his story to an Emirati audience.
There, he will share a story that could easily have ended in tragedy.
“I had an option to go back. A weaker man may have done a U-turn at that junction,” Ziadna said. “But I said no way, I will throw myself at death if it means I can save lives.”
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The post This Bedouin bus driver is credited with saving 30 people from the outdoor party massacre appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Jewish Ambivalence About Fighting Antisemitism

Francesca Albanese, UN special rapporteur on human rights in the Palestinian territories, attends a side event during the Human Rights Council at the United Nations in Geneva, Switzerland, March 26, 2024. Photo: REUTERS/Denis Balibouse
JNS.org – Jews have long been champions of freedom of speech in the United States, yet they often have not hesitated to advocate canceling speakers who are antisemitic or virulently anti-Israel. Many Jews feel that those who spread hatred against them or Israel should face consequences, but they are frequently uneasy about the mechanisms used to deliver those consequences. This ambivalence was true before Donald Trump returned to the White House, but has become more prevalent since his administration began taking aggressive steps against antisemites and their institutional enablers.
Free-speech advocates often invoke Louis Brandeis’s famous line, “Sunlight is the best disinfectant” (the exact quote was “Sunlight is said to be the best of disinfectants”). With apologies to the great Jewish jurist, when it comes to antisemitism, this is pure rubbish. The idea that exposure will neutralize hatred has been disproven by centuries of Jewish persecution. Hate doesn’t melt away in the light; it mutates and metastasizes. Permitting antisemites to spread their rhetoric on campus doesn’t disinfect; instead, it creates a toxic environment for Jewish students and undermines academic integrity. Professor Scott Galloway put it best: “Free speech is at its freest when it’s hate speech against Jews.”
Even while extolling free speech, Jews are often willing to oppose antisemites speaking on campus. For example, last year, alumni, faculty, community groups and parents of students at Brown University signed a letter urging the administration to disinvite U.N. Special Rapporteur Francesca Albanese (who was recently reappointed to her position over Jews’ and US objections) because of her history of antisemitic and anti-Israel remarks.
This tension between the desire not to appear as suppressors of debate and the need to confront hate speech is torturous. Jews often find themselves asking: Is opposing a bigot’s right to speak a betrayal of liberal values or a defense of moral ones?
Though none would admit it, the attitude of campus protesters is: We have the right to be antisemites, and no one has the right to say or do anything about it. So, they are understandably upset when anyone calls them out as bigots or makes them pay for the consequences. This is why so many cowardly hide behind masks, unwilling to take responsibility for their words or actions.
Antisemites complain, for example, when groups like the Canary Mission publicize their public statements. It’s like pulling a hood off a Klansman. Publishing personal information about antisemites is not kosher, but exposing what they say is fair game. Students who support terrorists deserve to be shamed. They enjoy no First Amendment protection from being called out for being immoral or just plain stupid.
If employers decline to hire individuals who support hate, that’s not censorship; it’s discernment. International students can speak their minds, but they may be subject to deportation if they endorse designated terrorist groups like Hamas. Exercising that authority is not persecution; it’s policy.
When the antisemitic tsunami hit campuses after Oct. 7, nothing seemed to stem the tide. Now that the Trump administration has started to deport antisemites and withhold government funds from universities, we are finally seeing universities take the problem seriously. True, the administration is using a sledgehammer tactic that is making some Jews uncomfortable, but the slap-on-the-wrist approach of the Biden administration, on the rare occasions it was applied, was ineffective. Some Jews have said these steps will make antisemitism worse. This reflects a fundamental misunderstanding of the nature of antisemitism, which is that no excuse is needed to hate Jews. It is also difficult to determine whether the objection is to the punishment or that it fulfills Trump’s campaign promise.
The constant refrain that pro-Palestinian (they don’t admit to being pro-terrorist) voices are being stifled is easily disproven by their ubiquity. Some universities are finally suspending Students for Justice in Palestine groups (they should be expelling the members), and yet they find other ways to express their views. The annual anti-Israel hate weeks featuring speakers and films were held on many campuses over the last month without any interference.
Many of those complaining the loudest about freedom of speech support the boycott of Israel; that is, suppressing the speech of academics and students who wish to engage with Israel. Many professors are willing to defend the “academic freedom” of colleagues to use their classrooms to advance anti-Israel agendas. Jewish professors are rarely willing to speak out.
Even though the U.S. government and dozens of countries around the world have adopted the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA) working definition of antisemitism, faculty, often led by Jewish professors, fight against its use on campus, speciously claiming it stifles free speech. However, the refusal to define antisemitism ensures that no behavior can be deemed a violation. Without boundaries, there can be no enforcement, and impunity has thrived.
One group of Jews came up with the Nexus definition of antisemitism, which professor Cary Nelson described as an effort to “exonerate anti-Zionism by any means necessary.” Now, the Nexus Project is objecting to Trump’s crackdown on students and universities, and presenting an alternative strategy that, predictably, protects the antisemites by opposing the deportation or labeling of antisemites and defending diversity, equity, and inclusion. Their recommendations focus less on defending Jews than on challenging the administration’s authority and pushing unrelated policy goals, such as ending the war in Gaza and promoting a Palestinian state.
Let’s be honest: When we learn about antisemites coming to campus or elsewhere, there will be no shortage of principled Jewish voices defending their right to speak. But do we want to give them a platform? Shouldn’t neo-Nazis, Islamists, white supremacists, Hamas supporters and other antisemites be canceled, condemned and marginalized without apology?
Germany is a democracy that still has laws against hate speech. Denying the Holocaust, for example, is prohibited. Social media is the most dangerous medium for spreading antisemitism. In this instance, Trump’s defense of an unregulated digital marketplace fails the Jews. Germany, by contrast, holds platforms accountable for the hate they amplify. American Jews are equivocal. Some are free-speech absolutists, while others call for moderated online posts. What did the Jews who met Elon Musk say? Did they tell him—free speech be damned—keep the antisemites off X? Or did they simply grumble that they wish there weren’t so many of them?
Free speech is a core Jewish value, but so is the defense of Jewish life. The era of ambivalence must end. We cannot allow our principles to be used to undermine our safety. History has shown where that leads.
The post Jewish Ambivalence About Fighting Antisemitism first appeared on Algemeiner.com.
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The ‘Egg-Sodus’ from Egypt

Sunny-side up eggs and carrots with parmesan and cream. Photo: Isabelle Hurbain-Palatin via Wikicommons.
JNS.org – At Passover seders around the world, one of the items on the seder plate will be a simple hard-boiled egg. I would like to spend a moment on what we learn from this egg, how it truly encapsulates what Passover is all about, and one of the messages that it has for us today.
One of the reasons we have the egg at the seder is that it symbolizes the beginning of life, and Passover marks the beginning of our national existence. But it’s more exact than that. The egg reflects the precise position of the Jewish people at the time of the Exodus from Egypt.
Let’s look at the journey of our egg. The egg is first inside the hen. It is then laid and thereby freed from the constraints previously imposed upon it. But has the egg been hatched? Has a little chick emerged from the shell? The answer is no. The egg, you see, is only the potential of life. It is not yet a living being. One day, please God, a chick will emerge, and the cycle of life will continue.
When the Jewish people left Egypt, they were like an unhatched egg. They were free from the prison of Egypt and the constraints of slavery, but they weren’t quite fully born. It would take seven weeks for them to stand at the foot of Mount Sinai and experience the great revelation of God and receive the Torah. Only when they were given a way of life did the Jewish people receive purpose. Until Sinai, we were all dressed up with nowhere to go. On Passover, we emerged from the confines of Egypt like the egg that drops out of the hen. But only at Sinai were we hatched and born.
What is the message for us? Political freedom without spiritual freedom is an unhatched egg; it is incomplete. We may be free and unfettered, but we are still spiritually lost and morally confused.
Where I live in South Africa, we understand this message very well. We have, thank God, achieved political freedom in our beloved country. We’ve now had more than three decades of democracy with free and fair national elections. Everyone has a chance to cast their vote; still, most of the population remains as impoverished as they were before. Yes, many more now have access to water, electricity and housing, but for the majority of the majority, their lives have been unaffected. A government full of former freedom fighters has, sadly, proven itself to be incompetent and corrupt at the highest levels.
Worse still, new freedoms bring new cultures, new lifestyles, and, unfortunately, new decadence. Gone are the old tribal values; replaced by empty, materialistic Western worship of all that is new and glitzy.
We may be free from the oppression of the past, but we haven’t yet been provided with a coherent, wholesome infrastructure to help direct our aspirations.
So, freedom itself is only half the story. What we do with our freedom remains the big question. We need a purpose in life. And we need a moral, spiritual infrastructure, a map and a moral compass to help guide us in life. Otherwise, we wander aimlessly through the wilderness, and our freedom remains nothing more than undeveloped potential.
Let’s not be unhatched eggs. Let us use our freedom wisely and achieve all our aspirations. Let us realize that Passover is just the beginning. We must consult the Torah to discover how to take maximum advantage of that freedom so we may live meaningful, purposeful lives and teach our children and grandchildren to do the same.
The post The ‘Egg-Sodus’ from Egypt first appeared on Algemeiner.com.
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Against Racism, for Antisemitism: The Message of a March in Paris

Youths take part in the occupation of a street in front of the building of the Sciences Po University in support of Palestinians in Gaza, during the ongoing conflict between Israel and Hamas, in Paris, France, April 26, 2024. Photo: REUTERS/Gonzalo Fuentes
JNS.org – Thousands of people marched through Paris at the end of March in what was billed as a protest against racism. It was another display of the long-standing alliance between the far left and Islamist groups, exemplified by the numerous Palestinian flags dotted alongside the red banners deployed by the organizers.
The march illustrated how the term “racism” has been appropriated by parts of the left to describe measures aimed at combating the spread of Islamism. Many of the demonstrators lashed out at Bruno Retailleau, the French interior minister, for his allegedly racist statements about Algeria, a French colony until its independence in 1962, and his support for a ban on the wearing of the Islamic veil—a rule that is imposed on women alone—in French institutions of higher education.
Yet closer inspection of both issues reveals that Retailleau has not uttered racist comments on either. On Algeria, Retailleau’s complaint is that the authorities in Algiers have consistently refused to accept Algerian nationals slated for deportation by France, including one man who carried out a deadly terrorist attack in the city of Mulhouse in February, leading him to warn that a 1968 agreement facilitating Algerian immigration to France would be reviewed unless that position is reversed. On the veil, he has eschewed bigoted language about “Islam” and “foreigners,” arguing instead that the “veil is not merely a piece of fabric; it is a banner for Islamism and a symbol of the subjugation of women to men.”
Once upon a time, that was an assertion made by the left.
But perhaps the most egregious aspect of the demonstration was its contemptuous approach to the problem of antisemitism, which has risen precipitously in France, as elsewhere in Europe, in the 18 months that have elapsed since the Hamas mass atrocities in Israel. There were no banners, no chants, no signs condemning the worst slaughter of Jews since the Holocaust and its consequent unleashing of antisemitic rhetoric and violence against Jewish communities across the globe.
Indeed, the entire event suggested that in order to combat racism, the French far left—a large bloc that won 182 parliamentary seats in last year’s legislative elections—has embraced Jew-hatred as a strategy. A poster publicizing the march urged attendees to “fight the extreme right, its ideas and its networks.” To accentuate its point, the poster was dominated by an image of Cyril Hanouna, a right-wing pundit of Tunisian Jewish origin.
Hanouna was displayed in extreme close-up with his eyes narrowed in hostility and a curving, beak-like nose protruding over a snarling mouth. You don’t have to be an antisemitism expert to trace the lineage of an image like this one. In the French context, it is painfully reminiscent of the crude propaganda aimed at Capt. Alfred Dreyfus, the French Jewish army officer falsely convicted of espionage in 1894 amid a wave of bestial antisemitic violence.
It also brought to mind the Nazi demonization of the Jews and, more recently, social media memes like the “Happy Merchant,” an antisemitic caricature much loved by semi-literate, far-right delinquents like the American Holocaust denier Nick Fuentes.
The offending image of Hanouna was eventually withdrawn but not before the guilty party here—the far-left “La France Insoumise” (“France Rising”)—angrily voiced its outrage at the accusation of antisemitism (a routine tactic whenever someone has the temerity to suggest that the far left is hostile to Jews qua Jews.) The party’s leader, Jean-Luc Mélenchon, visibly lost his temper when asked about the image during a television interview, bellowing the words “Enough is Enough!” at news anchor Francis Letellier.
Yet for all of Mélenchon’s protestations, this is exactly what we have come to expect from him. Mélenchon has ventured into antisemitism several times in his career. Random highlights include his 2013 statement accusing the then-Finance Minister Pierre Moscovici, who is Jewish, of no longer “thinking in French but thinking in the language of international finance.” More recently, he leapt to the defense of his comrade Jeremy Corbyn, the antisemitic former leader of the British Labour Party, declaring that “Corbyn had to endure without help the crude accusation of antisemitism from the chief rabbi of England and the various Likud networks of influence.” He then added that Corbyn, “instead of fighting back, spent his time apologizing and giving pledges. (…) I will never give in to it for my part.”
Along with the various Islamist associations present in France, La France Insoumise has been a key transmitter of antisemitism in the wake of the Hamas-led terrorist attacks in southern Israel on Oct. 7, 2023, at the same time dismissing outright, much as Corbyn did in Britain, the concerns of the Jewish community. French President Emmanuel Macron alluded to this in a speech on April 2, when he presented an award on behalf of LICRA, a long-established French organization that combats racism and antisemitism. “The antisemitic poison consists of only one ingredient, hatred … a hatred born on the far right, which has prospered on the far right and has managed to spread beyond the far right,” Macron stated. “Today, unfortunately, it has reached certain ranks of the far left and the left, for whom anti-Zionism serves as an alibi for the expression of antisemitism.”
While these sentiments are laudable, the historical record shows that the far left has often trafficked in the hatred of Jews with the same enthusiasm as the Nazis and ultranationalists on the facing side of the horseshoe. As I wrote last year, anti-Zionism in our time has undergone a process of Nazification to the point where, in my view, we should remove the hyphen from this term to underline that what is presented as political opposition to the Zionist movement is more properly understood as a full-blown antisemitic conspiracy theory with the State of Israel at its core.
The unmistakable message delivered by the Paris march against racism, along with satellite marches in other French cities, was this: Jews are not allies; Jews fabricate claims of bigotry and discrimination against them; and Jews are guilty of perpetrating a “genocide” against Palestinians rooted in “Zionist ideology.” In the ultimate irony, the implication here is that to be a good anti-racist, it helps if you are an antisemite.
The post Against Racism, for Antisemitism: The Message of a March in Paris first appeared on Algemeiner.com.