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Ukrainian Jewish life has always taken place in Russian. Now a race to translate is underway.
LVIV, Ukraine (JTA) – The rabbis sat around a breakfast table, discussing Russia’s war on the country where they work in a mixture of Yiddish, Hebrew and Russian. They named their hometowns as Lugansk, Lvov and Dnepr, the Russian names for Ukrainian cities that have vaulted into international headlines since Russia invaded Ukraine in February.
Although they were focused on Ukraine’s progress in the fighting, the rabbis uttered not a single word in Ukrainian. How could they? Like the vast majority of Jews in Ukraine, none of them speaks the country’s official language.
Russian has long been the first language for a wide swath of Ukrainians, including the majority of the country’s Jews. But after the Russian invasion, many Ukrainians decided they wanted to speak less Russian and more Ukrainian. Many Jews, similarly horrified by the sight of thousands of Russian soldiers pouring over Ukraine’s borders and wishing to demonstrate their Ukrainian bonafides, have made the same choice — even as it means disrupting a long linguistic tradition.
So when the rabbis’ successors meet for pancakes and sour cream, they will be far more likely to introduce themselves as the rabbis of Luhansk, Lviv and Dnipro, the Ukrainian names for their hometowns that have become the standard in English. They will also likely be able to hand their students and congregants Ukrainian-language versions of central Jewish texts that simply do not exist now.
“Many of my friends say that they are embarrassed to use Russian as a language. They say that we are Ukrainian Jews, and that Russia is a terrorist country fighting us and that we shouldn’t use their language,” said Rabbi Meir Stambler, from Dnipro. “Others say that [Russian president Vladimir] Putin doesn’t own the Russian language. It is an issue.”
He added, “This is something that people are discussing all the time.”
A decade ago, half of Ukrainians said they spoke Russian as their native language. That number has declined to 20%, fueled in part by resentment over Russia’s aggressions in Crimea, a contested region that it annexed by force in 2014. But Jews have remained predominantly Russian-speaking, even in parts of western Ukraine where Ukrainian has long been the dominant language. (Russian and Ukrainian are related linguistically, but their speakers cannot understand each other.)
Russia’s war on Ukraine has Ukrainian Jews playing catchup. Stambler, who heads the Federation of Jewish Communities, a body affiliated with the Hasidic Chabad-Lubavitch movement that operates a network of 36 synagogues around Ukraine, offers a stark prediction: “Within 10 years, every Jew in Ukraine will speak Ukrainian.”
The dominance of Russian among Ukraine’s Jews, who numbered in the tens of thousands before the war, has deep roots.
“The historical trajectory of Jews in what is now Ukraine led them in the 19th century to adopt Russian rather than Ukrainian,” says historian Natan Meir, a professor of Judaic studies at Portland State University. “That was because Ukrainian was perceived as a peasant language that did not have any high culture associated with it, and because there were no economic advantages to adopting Ukrainian at the time.”
Now, the upside of switching to Ukrainian — demonstrating a national allegiance during a time of war — couldn’t be clearer.
“Jews feel quite integrated into Ukrainian society, but a shift, even if it is a gradual shift, to Ukrainian is going to make that more tangible than ever,” Meir said, calling the Russian invasion “absolutely game-changing” for Ukrainian Jews. “They will be perceived even more strongly than they have been as being wholly Ukrainian and part of the fabric of Ukrainian society.”
Most Ukrainian Jews, especially those educated since the collapse of the Soviet Union, can now speak some Ukrainian. But their ability often depends on where they grew up: Many Jews in traditionally Russophone cities such as Odesa, Dnipro or Kharkiv can struggle with the language, while their grandparents often cannot speak it at all.
Books in both Hebrew and Russian sit on a bookshelf at Medzhybizh. (Jacob Judah)
“Not more than 20% were Ukrainian-speaking at home,” says Stambler. “Take President [Volodymyr] Zelensky. He knew Ukrainian, but he didn’t speak it at home, and he had to polish it up when he became president.”
It will not be simple for the Jewish community to suddenly switch to Ukrainian, the most widely spoken European language without a standardized translation of the Torah.
Two years ago, a team of translators working in Israel, Austria and Hungary began working to produce Ukrainian-language Jewish texts. But before the Russian invasion, the effort had so far produced only a Ukrainian book of psalms, or tehillim.
In May, two months into the war, a decision was made to accelerate work on a daily prayer book. A Torah could follow.
“The chumash is difficult,” said Stambler, who oversees the half-dozen-strong team of translators from his base in Dnipro, using the Hebrew word for the printed form of the Torah. “We are working on it.”
While translating sacred texts can take years, other changes have come faster. The leaflets, brochures and calendars that are a fixture at any Jewish center in Ukraine were quickly swapped out Russian for Ukrainian, at least at the federation’s headquarters. Before February, these had often been produced and printed by Russian Jewish communities and shared with those in Ukraine, for simplicity’s sake.
“This differentiation from Russian Jewry is going to be huge,” said Meir, the historian. “Up until this point they have essentially formed one linguistic and cultural space that all Jews, whether they were in Ukraine, Russia or Belarus could move freely between.”
Now, the ties between those communities are both logistically complicated to maintain — trade routes have been ruptured — and also potentially a liability at a time when anyone in either Russia or Ukraine showing an affinity for the other country can face suspicion or penalties.
“This shift, if it actually happens, is going to be marking out a totally new cultural space for Ukrainian Jews and almost a declaration of independence,” Meir said “Or at least that is the aspiration, because there is so much of their heritage which is still based in the Russian language that it is going to be a long time before they can fully separate.”
That separation process, which began to take shape most clearly after 2014, has quickened. “We started doing things ourselves,” said Stambler. “We used to do about 20% in Ukrainian for the Jews in western towns like Lviv, Ivano-Frankivsk and Uzhhorod, but we are making a much stronger push now.”
He estimates that some 75% of material being distributed to Ukrainian Jewish communities by the Federation of Jewish Communities was in Ukrainian by September, up from 20% to 35% in January.
Young rabbis who come from the United States or Israel to serve small Jewish communities across Ukraine now say that they have had to add Ukrainian alongside their Russian classes.
“I began with Russian,” said one of those rabbis who works in Vinnitsya, until he decided over the summer that he had to learn Ukrainian. “I realized that I had to learn Ukrainian because I needed it on the street. I needed it to speak with the government and with the media.”
Signs in a synagogue in Ukraine are written in both Ukrainian and Russian. (Jacob Judah)
Some Ukrainian Jews are voting with their voices.
“My whole life, I spoke only Russian,” said Olha Peresunko, who before the war lived in Mikolaiv in southern Ukraine. “But after the 24th of February I am speaking only Ukrainian.”
Peresunko was speaking outside a Lviv synagogue this fall, where she and other refugees were waiting for food parcels. She had fled Mikolaiv, which has sustained repeated assault by Russian troops, for Lviv with her mother and two children while her husband is on the frontlines.
Her children are finding it hard to adjust to the exclusive Ukrainian environment in Lviv, but she is confident that they will make the shift. “They will speak Ukrainian as their first language,” Peresunko said.
Exactly how much the shift to Ukrainian will change local Jewish communities is a matter of debate. Rabbi Shalom Gopin, who fled to Kyiv in 2014 from his home community in Luhansk, an overwhelmingly Russophone city seized by Russia-backed separatists at that time, said he, too, believes that Ukrainian will displace Russian as the lingua franca of Ukrainian Jewry.
A Ukrainian woman displays her Ukrainian-language Jewish calendar as a source of pride, September 2022. (Jacob Judah)
“They are starting to slowly speak Ukrainian,” he said. “It is no problem. There are lots of Jews in America who speak English. We live here, and we speak the languages of the places that we live. It is normal.”
But Gopin said the linguistic shift “means nothing” amid other issues facing Jews in Ukraine, where Russia’s war is threatening to undo 30 years of Jewish community building, largely though not exclusively led by Chabad, Gopin’s Orthodox movement.
“The problem for the Jews of Ukraine is not language,” he said. “It is about how much they are going to synagogue, or how many children are going to Jewish schools, not about what they are speaking.”
Natalia Kozachuk, 45, a Jewish businesswoman in Lviv, sees only upside to shedding Russian, her native language. She has started to speak to her children only in Ukrainian.
“It will be hugely positive if Jews speak more Ukrainian,” Kozachuk said. This is the only way that Jews can truly “learn more about the Ukrainian people,” she said, “about their history and the positive qualities and strengths of Ukraine.”
“Only good can come of it,” she added. “We will understand each other better.”
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Dublin city councillors accuse Israel and ‘Zionist lobby’ of quashing proposal to rename Herzog Park
(JTA) — Dublin’s City Council was divided Monday night over a proposal to postpone voting on stripping the name of an Irish-born Israeli president from a city park, with dozens of members voting to move forward with the controversial renaming.
The council ultimately voted to send the “denaming” proposal for Herzog Park back to a planning committee, but not before council members spent more than hour commenting on the proposal and the outcry it drew from Irish, Israeli and Jewish leaders.
Several criticized Israel and said they wanted to see the park named for an Irish Jew whose contributions came at home. Some denounced the “Zionist lobby” and “Israeli lobby” for intervening in the renaming effort.
Pat Dunne, of the United Left party, told chief executive Richard Shakespeare, who proposed postponing the vote on procedural grounds, that he believed the Israeli army was responsible for the outcry. The meeting was livestreamed.
“I’m further convinced that whatever phone calls was made to our CEO and to other officials probably emanated from Israeli intelligence attached to the Israeli Defense Force because they’re active in every issue in relation to Palestine,” Dunne said. “Trace it all the way back, Richard, and you’ll find that’s the source.”
About criticism of the renaming plan from the Irish president and foreign minister, another council member, Cieran Perry, said, “The optics will appear to show these senior Irish politicians carrying out the instructions of the Israeli lobby, and it’s very hard to argue with a view when we see the actual result.”
Ciarán Ó Meachair accused Herzog of having “raped, murdered and pillaged innocent civilians” and said he would continue to press for a renaming, suggesting the British Jewish communist politician Max Levitas, who died in 2018.
“This was a full court press by the Zionist lobby, and they think they will win it,” he said. “They will not win this.”
Herzog Park, located in Dublin’s Jewish hub, was named in 1995 for Chaim Herzog, the son of the first Irish chief rabbi who became Israel’s sixth president in 1983. His son, Isaac Herzog, is the president of Israel today.
Pro-Palestinian activists called for the park to be stripped of the Herzog name during the Israel-Hamas war in Gaza, citing Chaim Herzog’s role as a prominent defender of Zionism and his role in Israel’s War of Independence. (He also fought in the British army during World War II.)
Irish Jewish leaders said the proposal to remove Herzog’s name was a hurtful repudiation of decades of strong ties between Ireland and Israel that have recently frayed amid staunch pro-Palestinian sentiment in Ireland. Israel closed its embassy in Dublin last year, citing the Irish government’s “antisemitic rhetoric” including its support for Palestinian statehood.
Several council members said they opposed the renaming because of the hurt expressed by Jewish Dubliners. “These are people, Irish people, who live in our community, work in our community, and have done nothing wrong, and I don’t think anyone’s intention here was to bring hurt upon them, but that is an outcome of what we’ve done here,” said David Coffey of the centrist Finn Gael party.
One council member, Rory Hogan, said he had gone to the neighborhood around Herzog Park and found that residents there felt they had not been consulted in the renaming plan. He suggested that the council find another way to honor the concerns of pro-Palestinian activists.
“The outcome of this debate should not in any way diminish the urgency of recognizing the atrocities taking place in Gaza,” Hogan said. “We should continue to pursue a way in which we can honor and remember the thousands of civilians who have been killed and the children whose lives have been destroyed. But if we are to create a meaningful memorial of place of solidarity, let it be in a location of real significance to all.”
Ultimately, the vote to send the proposal back to the naming committee passed, with 35 in favor, 25 opposed and 1 abstaining. That means the proposal can resurface in the future, if the committee addresses the process errors that the council’s attorneys assessed and outlined in a legal opinion delivered to the council members before Monday’s meeting.
Several council members also apologized to the family of Terrence Wheelock, a man killed by a police 20 years ago who had been set to have a different park renamed after him, because that proposal was simultaneously derailed.
For some Jewish observers, the council meeting renewed bruised feelings that they thought had been repaired by Shakespeare’s decision to withdraw the proposal.
“Watching the @DubCityCouncil meeting – feeling utterly sick and despondent. There is palpable hatred in that room,” tweeted Ed Abrahamson, an Irish Jew who had raised concerns about the proposed renaming and praised the decision to postpone the vote. “My optimism from last night has vanished.”
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‘Antisemite of the Year’ finalists include Tucker Carlson and Ms. Rachel, but not Nick Fuentes
Nick Fuentes says he feels snubbed by the controversial activist group StopAntisemitism, which neglected to include him among its finalists for “Antisemite of the Year.”
The group’s finalists, announced Sunday, include conservative pundit Tucker Carlson, whose friendly interview with Fuentes has splintered the conservative movement.
Other “nominees” include pro-Palestinian celebrities Ms. Rachel, Cynthia Nixon and Marcia Cross; mixed-martial-arts athlete and Holocaust denier Bryce Mitchell; two personalities associated with left-wing network The Young Turks; and social media personalities on both the far left (Guy Christensen) and far right (Stew Peters). Followers are encouraged to vote for whomever they feel is most deserving.
But Fuentes himself, the openly white nationalist and antisemitic livestreamer whose “groyper” movement has gained a toehold this year among young Republicans, was left off.
“Why wasn’t I nominated for antisemite of the year,” Fuentes posted on X after the finalists were revealed, apparently wounded by the omission.
In a follow-up post, StopAntisemitism said it does not nominate people more than once and has nominated Fuentes in previous years. “While he was a finalist a few years back, his absence from this year’s cycle does not erase his antisemitism. Rather, it allows us to focus attention on other individuals who are spreading hate,” the group wrote.
A watchdog presence with more than 300,000 followers on X, StopAntisemitism regularly mobilizes against activists and social media posts. The group has faced criticism for what some perceive as an inordinate focus on Muslim personalities, pro-Palestinian actions and non-prominent individuals. Its defenders deny that, pointing out that StopAntisemitism also regularly spotlights neo-Nazis and Holocaust deniers on the right.
“From downplaying white supremacy to promoting the antisemitic ‘great replacement’ theory, Carlson has built a career turning extremist dog whistles into broadcast-ready talking points, legitimizing voices that traffic in Holocaust revisionism, conspiracy, and hate,” StopAntisemitism wrote in its nomination of Carlson.
The group nominated Ms. Rachel, the children’s YouTube personality who has become an outspoken advocate for children affected by Israeli airstrikes in Gaza, because it said she “has used her massive platform to spread Hamas-aligned propaganda.” A left-wing group, Jews for Racial & Economic Justice, has defended Ms. Rachel, saying StopAntisemitism targeted her for expressing sympathy with Palestinians.
Nixon was nominated for her “BDS activism” (she was listed in a film‑industry petition boycotting Israeli film institutions and has been outspoken about civilian casualties in Gaza); Mitchell and Peters, meanwhile, have embraced open Holocaust denial.
Last year’s “winner,” far-right pundit and conspiracy theorist Candace Owens, was also absent despite her recent resurgence promoting conspiracy theories accusing Israeli of involvement in Charlie Kirk’s assassination. Previous “winners” have included Reps. Rashida Tlaib and Ilhan Omar, as well as rapper Ye and a board chair of Ben & Jerry’s, the progressive ice cream company founded by Jews.
Since its inception in 2019, the “award” has always gone to a person of color.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
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If Israel reinstates the death penalty, it will betray Jewish values — and Jewish history
The Knesset is considering a bill that would instate the death penalty as a punishment for convicted terrorists in Israel. Passing it would be an enormous mistake.
Allowing executions in the Jewish state — the justice system of which has, since 1954, only issued that punishment to Adolf Eichmann — would only give fodder to Israel’s enemies. Right now, Israel stands apart in the Middle East for its abolishment of the death penalty. Hamas regularly executes Palestinians in Gaza, extrajudicially and otherwise. A court operating under Yemen’s Houthi rebels recently sentenced 17 people to death for allegedly spying on behalf of Israel and others. Iran, which has carried out death sentences against Jews, has executed more than 1,500 people in 2025 alone.
Which means that if Israel violates its moral obligations and ethical standards by undoing its historic commitment to not inflicting the one punishment that can never be undone, it will be giving its enemies a gift.
First, changing the justice system to allow for the death penalty would provide Hamas terrorists incarcerated in Israel with a new platform for their message. Hamas could proclaim them to be martyred heroes — a new layer of disingenuous but effective propaganda.
Terrorists such as the perpetrators of the Oct. 7, 2023 massacre often believe that their spirits will receive rewards upon their physical death. Within that framework, lifetime incarceration is a far harsher punishment, and therefore a more effective one. Plus, the notion that executing terrorists will prevent future hostage-taking for prisoner swaps is shaky. Hamas’ relationship with Israel has long been defined by retaliatory action, which means that the state killing of Hamas prisoners is likely to lead to Hamas reciprocally executing future Israeli hostages and “collaborators.” The endless cycle of violence will continue.
And since Israel seeks to be a transparent democracy that follows the rule of law, particularly within its judiciary, a legal death sentencing scheme also would prove costly in terms of public perception.
Israel’s reputation as a bastion of moral clarity in the Middle East has dramatically changed in the more than two years since the Oct. 7 attack. The devastation of the war in Gaza, and of increasing violence in the West Bank, has led to a substantial drop in positive perceptions of Israel worldwide. And while the Israeli judiciary has long been one of the country’s most trusted institutions, the deleterious effects of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s pre-war proposals for a judicial overhaul mean it is no longer held in the same high regard, in Israel or the rest of the world, as it once was.
This bill has already advanced past a first reading in the Knesset. Moving it any further toward becoming law would only hasten the decline of Israel’s image.
Some of those who have argued in favor of the bill have invoked the fallacy of “deterrence.” Shin Bet security service Chief David Zini even told the Security Cabinet that enacting the death penalty for terrorists who kill Israelis would help prevent future attacks.
That statement doesn’t hold up to scrutiny. Recent studies have concluded that when it comes to deterrence, there is no demonstrable link between the presence or absence of the death penalty and murder rates.
But the most profound reason to reject this bill comes from our own painful history as a people. Many Jews, including myself, have long objected to the death penalty in part because of the shadow of the Holocaust.
We believe, in the words of Elie Wiesel, a Holocaust survivor and winner of the Nobel Peace Prize, that “death is not the answer.” By the end of his life, Wiesel publicly said that he saw no possible exceptions to this rule:“With every cell of my being and with every fiber of my memory, I oppose the death penalty in all forms,” he said. “I do not believe any civilized society should be at the service of death. I don’t think it’s human to become an agent of the angel of death.”
In this light, it is particularly troubling that the Israeli bill proposes using lethal injection against convicted terrorists. That method of capital punishment is a direct Nazi legacy, first implemented in human history by the Third Reich as part of their infamous Aktion T4 protocol, used to kill people deemed “unworthy of life.” Dr. Karl Brandt, Adolf Hitler’s personal physician, devised the program.
In the wake of the Holocaust and the unparalleled horrors of the 20th century, more than 70% of the nations of the world have recognized the inviolability of the human right to life, and have abolished the death penalty in law or practice.
21st-century Judaism must reflect this evolution, and Israel must never cross this moral Rubicon.
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