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This Israeli village on the Lebanon border was isolated for decades. Now it’s a tourist hotspot.
GHAJAR, Israel (JTA) – A group of 40 tourists filed into Khateb Sweets on a recent Sunday afternoon, bringing chatter — and their cash and credit cards — to what had been a quiet cafe in this equally sedate village in the Golan Heights.
They left after consuming pastries and hot tea spiced with ginger, anise and cinnamon, whereupon an Israeli Jewish couple came in, then an Israeli Arab family and three Canadians.
The steady foot traffic typifies the wave of tourists that since last fall has hit this community of 2,900 people, nearly all Alawites, an Islamic sect.
Ghajar (pronounced RA-zhar) had for decades been unusually cut off from the rest of Israel. Residents could come and go, but outsiders could visit only through prior arrangement with the Israel Defense Forces, which considered the village within a closed military area where Lebanon and Israel’s Galilee and Golan Heights regions intersect.
The IDF’s lifting of the restriction without explanation on Sept. 8 led to an immediate rush of visitors eager to explore Ghajar.
How immediate? Ahmad Khateb, a pastry chef who owns the eponymous cafe, was working that day at his consultancy job at a hotel in the Galilee town of Tzfat, when his employee called to report an unusual stream of tourists entering the shop. The following morning, Khateb resigned to work at his café full time.
People enjoy a food truck in a plaza in Ghajar, Oct. 14, 2022. (Yossi Aloni/Flash90)
Approximately 4,000 people visited Ghajar the day the town opened, he said. Another 6,000 visited the following day — briefly tripling the number of people in town. For day three, a Saturday, Ghajar turned a soccer field into a parking lot.
“It’s like a gift that fell from the sky,” Khateb said of the village’s opening and his subsequent increase in sales. He’s now considering expansion to other locations.
Ghajar possesses a Forbidden City-like attraction for Israelis, who travel extensively inside their own country because it requires a flight to visit others.
“You know why we came here? Because there aren’t a lot of places [in Israel] we haven’t been,” said Shmuel Browns, a Jerusalem-based tour guide accompanying his brother and sister-in-law visiting from his native Toronto. “We wanted to get a sense of what makes this village unique.”
It is also notable as the only Israeli community of Alawites, a Syria-based ethnic minority best known as the group that the country’s dictatorial rulers for the past 52 years — current president Bashar al-Assad and his late father, Hafez — are descended from. Bilal Khatib, who is Ghajar’s accountant and spokesman, said Alawites tend to be secular people who value a person’s character and are respectful of other Muslim sects and different religions. Ghajar contains no mosques, since, except on holy days, people pray individually at home.
People gather in front of a shop in Ghajar, Oct. 14, 2022. (Yossi Aloni/Flash90)
“It’s a way of life,” Khatib said. “We respect people as people. Our religion is to be a good person, love everyone and hold no hatred against anyone, be they Druze, Jew, Christian or Circassian.”
But most unusual is Ghajar’s provenance, on which outsiders tend to stumble. “Ghajar was part of Lebanon, right?” the Israeli couple at the cafe asked Khateb.
No, he responded.
So began a short primer that residents are wont to recite to visitors — a timeline of a village of just one-fifth of a square mile. (The fields on Ghajar’s outskirts constitute an additional five square miles, on which the village plans to expand.)
Israel captured the Golan Heights, including Ghajar, from Syria during 1967’s Six-Day War and officially annexed it in 1981. After Israel ended its 18-year war in Lebanon in 2000, the United Nations certified the IDF’s withdrawal and established the two countries’ border going through, rather than around, Ghajar. Israel later announced plans to withdraw below the U.N. line. That would have split the village into northern and southern sections. Residents protested, preferring to remain under Israeli sovereignty rather than be divided. Ultimately, Israel didn’t erect a barrier inside the village.
A man drives a golf kart in Ghajar, Sept. 7, 2022. (Jalaa Marey/AFP via Getty Images)
“It’s a headache,” Jamal Khatib, a physical education teacher at the village’s lone high school, said of the chronology.
Orna Mizrahi, an analyst at the Tel Aviv-based Institute for National Security Studies, agrees with that characterization. As a member of the National Security Council, she briefed then-Prime Minister Ariel Sharon on Ghajar at what proved to be his last Cabinet meeting hours before he suffered a debilitating and ultimately fatal stroke in 2006.
As to why the IDF recently opened the town, Mizrahi cited the completion of a security fence around Ghajar, along with the lessened threat of cross-border attacks by the Hezbollah terrorist organization, due in large part to the recent maritime border agreement between Israel and Lebanon that incentivizes the government in Beirut to restrain Hezbollah.
“The security considerations are different. The situation in Lebanon is different,” she said.
Exactly why the United Nations associated the town with Lebanon, even though most of its residents are from a Syrian sect, is a point of confusion for many who visit. A 1965 Syrian map that Bilal Khatib printed offers an explanation: It shows Ghajar as an enclave completely inside Lebanon except for a narrow sliver connecting it to Syria proper.
Bilal Khatib (he, Jamal Khatib and Ahmad Khateb are unrelated) lives in the northern section and said he would not want his sister, who lives south of the U.N.’s 2000 demarcation, to be inaccessible.
The U.N.’s dividing point, known as the Blue Line, would be “splitting families,” he said. “We have to be united.” In practice, this line exists only on maps and has no impact on the life of Ghajar residents, who are fully under Israeli rule.
Ghajar residents tend to see themselves as Syrians holding Israeli citizenship. It’s a high-achieving population: According to Jamal Khatib, 400 Ghajar residents hold a college degree, making the town far more educated, on average, than Israeli Arabs overall. He said there are 50 physicians, 30 lawyers, 27 dentists and two professors, most commuting to jobs in the Galilee. Until Syria’s civil war began in 2011, Ghajar residents legally crossed at nearby Kuneitra to attend Syrian universities, he said.
An Israeli soldier secures a checkpoint at the entrance of Ghajar, Sept. 7, 2022. (Jalaa Marey/AFP via Getty Images)
“There’s no profession in Israel that’s not represented here,” he said.
Politically, Ghajar stands out for supporting mostly Jewish-majority parties. In the recent election, Benny Gantz’s centrist party got 24% of the 555 citizens who went to the polls in the village. The Arab party Raam got only 14% of the votes and the rest went to other Jewish lists, including the haredi Orthodox Shas party.
Ghajar puts a premium on livability. Fountains, parks and outdoor sculptures abound, landscaping and building façades are colorful and nary a speck of litter is evident. Homes are large and well-kept, on par with other upscale areas in Israel. Motorcycles and the honking of vehicles’ horns are prohibited. Visitors may not enter between 8 p.m. and 8 a.m., Jamal Khatib said, adding that Ghajar has long banned hotels and bed-and-breakfast inns and does not plan to change the rules in response to the flood of visitors.
Some visitors have littered and urinated in public, even entered residents’ homes without knocking, he said.
“A year ago, you wouldn’t have seen that,” said his son, Ryad, who works as Ghajar’s coordinator of volunteers, including handling traffic control on days when tourists abound.
Unlike many small towns in Israel, Ghajar operates its own sanitation service rather than linking up with other municipalities through a regional council. Doing so is an unusual expenditure, but it’s one that means visitors to the town may see Ghajar’s name on a garbage truck — a potentially powerful symbol.
Tourists explore the streets of Ghajar, Oct. 14, 2022. (Yossi Aloni/Flash90)
“We’re doing it not for you, but for ourselves,” Jamal Khatib said of the village’s quality-of-life values. “I like that people come, but they should respect the rules, respect our privacy.”
For its part, Ghajar projects respect for the wider society. Street signs and storefronts appear in Hebrew and Arabic. The Park of Peace includes a statue of the Virgin Mary, a sculpture of an open Koran, an Alawite sword symbol and a menorah.
“You and I believe in one God,” Jamal Khatib said. “Your deeds speak as to who you are.”
From his back porch a few moments later, a donkey’s braying could be clearly heard, hundreds of sheep observed and calls to prayer drifted over from a mosque – all in Aarab el Louaizeh, a village in Lebanon perhaps 100 yards away.
In a ravine below, soldiers of the United Nations and the Lebanese army in their separate posts walked outside. The U.N. soldiers entered two vehicles and began their twice-daily patrol of the border. Alongside the border road is the Hatzbani River, where Khatib fished as a young man. At his property line, a separate fence on Ghajar’s northern perimeter is nearly complete.
But the fence wasn’t erected to divide people or demarcate boundaries: It’s to keep boars, jackals and porcupines from scaling the slope and entering the village, Khatib said. He soon received an alert on his phone.
“The notification says there are cows on the road,” he explained. “It’s dark. Be careful.”
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When New York and Public Institutions Decide Which Hate Matters
A man walks a subway platform in New York City, United States, on Oct/ 25, 2022. Photo: Jakub Porzycki/NurPhoto via Reuters Connect
New York City is home to the largest Jewish population outside of Israel. For generations, Jews here have built schools, businesses, synagogues, and civic institutions with the assumption that this city, whatever its flaws, understands the cost of antisemitism.
That assumption feels less stable today.
The NYPD’s numbers are unambiguous. Jews remain the most targeted group in reported hate crimes in New York City. The volume is not symbolic. It is disproportionate and sustained. Yet beyond the statistics, there is a quieter shift taking place inside schools and workplaces. Antisemitism is not always denied. It is deprioritized.
I saw this pattern unfold inside my son’s school over the past two academic years.
On the night of October 7, 2023, as Israelis were still counting their dead after 1,200 people were murdered and more than 200 were kidnapped by Hamas, the school principal sent a message to families. The email expressed sorrow over the situation in Gaza. It did not mention the massacre in Israel. It did not acknowledge the Jewish families in the community who were grieving in real time.
That omission was not technical. It was moral. At a moment when Jews across the world were processing the largest slaughter of Jews since the Holocaust, the institutional expression of sympathy pointed elsewhere.
Throughout that same school year, a music teacher regularly wore a keffiyeh in class. In isolation, one could argue that clothing is personal expression. But context matters. This was happening in the immediate aftermath of October 7, when Jewish students were experiencing rising hostility across the city. During curriculum nights, parents had been told that students would learn songs connected to Jewish holidays as part of the music program. Those commitments were not fulfilled. Jewish content quietly disappeared while visible political symbolism remained present.
Concerns were raised. The response was to remain calm and avoid escalation.
Later that year, a fifth-grade student arrived at school with a swastika drawn on his arm. That symbol of genocide was present inside a New York City classroom. The matter was handled privately. There was no schoolwide reaffirmation of values, no public condemnation of the symbol, no communication to families explaining what had occurred and how it would be addressed. It was resolved behind closed doors.
Then came another incident. My son returned home disturbed by a flag displayed in class that closely resembled a Nazi symbol. I sent an urgent email requesting clarification. The following day, I was told it was an ancient Indian symbol. That explanation may have been historically accurate. But the issue was not intent. The issue was impact.
In a school community that includes descendants of Holocaust survivors, imagery resembling a swastika carries emotional weight. Children react before they research. I asked that the school address the matter openly and provide context to students so that confusion and hurt would not linger. The image was removed. There was no broader communication.
Weeks later, a racist remark targeting another minority group during a public meeting triggered an immediate and forceful response from leadership. Families received a strong statement. The language was clear. The commitment to accountability was public.
That response was appropriate. Racism demands clarity.
The contrast between responses is the issue.
When swastikas are handled quietly, when Jewish curriculum promises fade, when the murder of 1,200 Israelis is omitted from expressions of institutional sympathy, and when Jewish concerns receive polite acknowledgment without operational follow-through, a message accumulates. Antisemitism becomes something to manage discreetly rather than confront directly.
This pattern is not isolated to one school. Across New York, Jews who speak openly in support of Israel report professional and social consequences. Anti-Zionist rhetoric has become normalized in many institutional spaces. The distinction between anti-Zionism and antisemitism is often presented as clean and obvious. In practice, it rarely is.
When Jewish students see authority figures signaling affiliation with movements that openly question the legitimacy of the Jewish state, while Jewish identity is treated as politically sensitive or secondary, the environment shifts. Jewish belonging becomes conditional.
I say this not as an activist seeking attention, but as someone whose professional life is rooted in safety and resilience. I am the founder of Krav Maga Experts in New York City. I work daily with civilians, executives, and families on preparedness, threat awareness, and responsible self-defense. Over the past year, I have heard the same concern repeatedly: Jews feel that institutional standards are uneven.
Some advise restraint. They argue that raising Jewish concerns risks appearing divisive. They note the historical suffering of other communities and suggest that Jewish worries should be measured against broader narratives of oppression.
Equal standards do not require comparison. They require consistency.
If a racist act demands public condemnation in one instance, it demands the same in every instance. If a symbol that evokes trauma for one group requires explanation and restorative action, the same principle applies universally. Institutional credibility depends on even enforcement of values.
Antisemitism rarely announces itself with clarity. It adapts. It embeds itself in prevailing political language. It thrives in environments where moral hesitation replaces moral steadiness.
The solution is not complicated. Schools and workplaces should explicitly include antisemitism in their bias and inclusion frameworks. Crisis communications should acknowledge Jewish trauma when it occurs. Symbols with genocidal associations should be addressed transparently. Curriculum commitments should be honored without selective erosion.
New York’s Jewish community does not require special treatment. It requires principled treatment. Safety is not built on selective outrage. It is built on consistent standards applied without fear or favor.
The city that holds the largest Jewish population outside Israel should lead in moral clarity. That clarity begins with a simple rule: hate is hate, regardless of who it targets. When institutions decide which hate merits urgency and which can be handled quietly, they weaken the trust that holds diverse communities together.
Consistency is not a political position. It is a test of integrity.
Tsahi Shemesh is an Israeli-American IDF veteran and the founder of Krav Maga Experts in NYC. A father and educator, he writes about Jewish identity, resilience, moral courage, and the ethics of strength in a time of rising antisemitism.
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US Pulling Non-Essential Staff From Embassy in Beirut Amid Iran Tensions
A general view of a US State Department sign outside the US State Department building in Washington, DC, US, July 11, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Annabelle Gordon
The State Department is pulling out non–essential government personnel and their eligible family members from the US embassy in Beirut, a senior State Department official said on Monday, amid growing concerns about the risk of a military conflict with Iran.
“We continuously assess the security environment, and based on our latest review, we determined it prudent to reduce our footprint to essential personnel,” said a senior State Department official, speaking on condition of anonymity.
“The Embassy remains operational with core staff in place. This is a temporary measure intended to ensure the safety of our personnel while maintaining our ability to operate and assist US citizens,” the official said.
A source at the US embassy said 50 people had been evacuated, while an official at Beirut airport said 32 embassy staff, along with family members, had flown out of Beirut airport on Monday.
The US has built up one of its biggest military deployments in the Middle East, with President Donald Trump warning on Thursday that “really bad things will happen” if no deal is reached to solve a longstanding dispute over Tehran’s nuclear program. Iran has threatened to strike American bases in the region if it is attacked.
“Should employees occupying emergency positions wish to depart post, please review alternative arrangements to fill the emergency position and consult with your regional bureau Executive Office as necessary,” said an internal State Department cable on the pullout, which was seen by Reuters.
The State Department on Monday updated its travel advisory for Lebanon, repeating its warning that US citizens should not travel to the country. Remaining embassy personnel are restricted from personal travel without advance permission and additional travel restrictions may be imposed “with little to no notice due to increased security issues or threats,” the advisory said.
American interests were repeatedly targeted in Lebanon in the 1980s during the 1975-90 civil war, during which the US held the Iran-backed Hezbollah responsible for attacks including the 1983 suicide bombing against the US Marines headquarters in Beirut, which killed 241 servicemen, and a 1983 suicide attack on the US embassy in Beirut that killed 49 embassy staff.
TALKS ON THURSDAY, DIVISIONS REMAIN
Meanwhile, US Secretary of State Marco Rubio, who is scheduled to travel to Israel on Saturday and meet with Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, was still planning to do that, but “the schedule remains subject to change,” the US official said.
The United States wants Iran to give up its nuclear program, but Iran has adamantly refused and denied it is trying to develop an atomic weapon. Washington views enrichment inside Iran as a potential pathway to nuclear weapons.
Iranian Foreign Minister Abbas Araqchi said on Sunday that he expects to meet with Trump’s special envoy Steve Witkoff in Geneva on Thursday, adding that there was still “a good chance” of a diplomatic solution.
Both sides remain sharply divided – even over the scope and sequencing of relief from crippling US sanctions – following two rounds of talks, a senior Iranian official told Reuters.
Citing officials on both sides and diplomats across the Gulf and Europe, Reuters reported on Friday that Tehran and Washington are sliding rapidly toward military conflict as hopes fade for a diplomatic settlement.
On Sunday, Witkoff said the president was curious as to why Iran has not yet “capitulated” and agreed to curb its nuclear program.
It would be the second time the US and Israel have attacked Iran in less than a year, following US and Israeli airstrikes against military and nuclear facilities last June.
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Iranian Students Protest for Third Day as US Pressure Mounts
Protesters chant, ‘We’ll fight, we’ll die, we’ll reclaim Iran,’ at Al-Zahra University in Tehran, as they mark the 42nd day of mourning for those killed by the Iranian regime in recent anti-government protests. Photo: Screenshot taken Feb. 23, 2026, from social media video via Reuters Connect
Iranian students defied authorities with protests for a third day on Monday, weeks after security forces crushed mass unrest with thousands killed and as the United States weighs possible air strikes against the Islamic Republic.
State media outlets reported students chanting anti-government slogans at Tehran University, burning flags at the all-women al-Zahra University, and scuffles at Amir Kabir University, all located in the capital.
Reuters also verified video showing students at al-Zahra University chanting slogans including “we’ll reclaim Iran,” but was not able to confirm when it was recorded.
In a new sign of the mounting tension in the Middle East, the United States began pulling non-essential personnel and family members from the embassy in Beirut, a senior State Department official said.
US President Donald Trump has repeatedly threatened Iran since major nationwide protests across the country in January, saying on Thursday that “really bad things will happen” if talks between the countries fail to produce a deal.
Washington wants Iran to give up much of its nuclear program, which it believes is aimed at building a bomb, limit the range of its missiles to short distances, and stop supporting terrorist groups it backs in the Middle East.
It has built up forces across the Middle East, putting increased pressure on Iran as it weighs its response to US demands amid ongoing talks.
Iranian Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei already faces the gravest crisis of his 36-year tenure, with an economy struggling under the weight of international sanctions and growing unrest that broke out into major protests in January.
On Sunday Iranian President Masoud Pezeshkian said negotiations with the US had “yielded encouraging signals” even as a second US aircraft carrier headed towards the Middle East.
Trump has not laid out in detail his thinking on any possible Iran strike. A senior White House official told Reuters last week there was still no “unified support” within the administration to go ahead with an attack.