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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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Here’s exactly why it’s dangerous to compare ICE to Nazis
It may feel morally clarifying to compare ICE to Nazis in moments of outrage. But those comparisons are also historically inaccurate, and politically counterproductive.
Nazism remains historically singular, both because of its eliminationist antisemitism and its state-driven project of industrial genocide. No other political movement has so entirely organized its worldview around the idea that a specific people constitutes a cosmic threat. The Nazis were driven by the belief that the mere existence of Jews endangered humanity, and that Jews therefore had to be physically annihilated everywhere.
A clear understanding of this truth has been absent amid renewed controversy over federal immigration enforcement and protests in Minneapolis. Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz compared children hiding in fear from ICE raids to Anne Frank hiding in Amsterdam, in terror of capture by Nazi Germany. Former Secretary of Labor Robert Reich compared ICE operations under President Donald Trump’s administration to the tactics of Hitler’s Brownshirts. They have been joined by many others, including in this publication.
Comparison is a central tool of historical and political analysis, and Nazism can and should be compared to other ideologies. But flattening the particular contours of Nazism strips it of its distinctive genocidal logic, and risks pushing us to take the wrong messages from its horrors.
When Nazism becomes a general synonym for “bad politics,” the Holocaust becomes a moral prop rather than a historically specific catastrophe. This is especially painful for Jews, but it also distorts the memory of the regime’s many other victims: Roma and Sinti, people with disabilities, prisoners of war, queer people and political dissidents, among others.
Part of what drives these comparisons is cultural familiarity. The Holocaust and the Gestapo are widely understood shorthand for the worst imaginable abuses of state power. Invoking Nazi metaphors often says more about present anxieties — foremost among them the fear that the United States may be sliding toward authoritarianism — than about historical reality.
Those anxieties are profound, and legitimate, especially when it comes to the concerns about injustice toward immigrants. Federal immigration enforcement has long prompted alarm about the abuse of civil liberties, including concerns about racial profiling, excessive force, family separation and opaque chains of accountability.
These problems span multiple U.S. administrations, showing that vigilance and legal challenge are always necessary. Calling them “Gestapo tactics,” however, as some national leaders have, obscures rather than clarifies the issue.
It conflates a flawed system operating within a still-robust framework of legal challenges and public scrutiny with a secret police apparatus designed for totalitarian control and genocide. For instance, in Minnesota, a federal judge threatened to hold the acting director of Immigration and Customs Enforcement in contempt for repeatedly defying court orders requiring bond hearings, prompting the agency to release a detainee. The fact that judges can and do continue to compel compliance, even amid sharp disputes over enforcement, shows that the U.S. remains a democracy rather than a secret police state.
There are countries today in which opposition parties are banned, protest is routinely criminalized, courts are fully captured by the regime, and independent media are systematically dismantled — such as Russia, Iran, or Venezuela. In those contexts, the language of secret police, one-party rule, and total state control describes concrete institutional realities.
It does not do so here. Yes, the U.S., like many countries today, is experiencing measurable democratic backsliding. But it remains far from an authoritarian regime. Much of the press remains free, despite significant pressure from the White House as well as structural pressures from corporate ownership, and continues to report extensively on immigration enforcement controversies. Independent courts have ruled against unlawful revocations of immigration protections. Protests in places like Minneapolis have mobilized large numbers of participants and, rather than being criminalized, are showing efficacy in getting the administration to change its course.
Learning from the Holocaust does not require declaring that everything is Nazism. Collapsing the distinction between democratic backsliding and full-fledged authoritarianism weakens our ability to diagnose what kind of political danger we are actually confronting. It might even weaken resistance: Mistaking slow erosion for a finished catastrophe can breed despair instead of motivating strategic action.
Nazi parallels also corrode political discourse itself. If ICE is the Gestapo, and Trump is Hitler, then Republican voters become Nazis by implication. This forecloses the possibility of democratic repair.
While far-right extremist currents undeniably exist within the MAGA movement, it is also a broad political camp that includes voters motivated by a variety of factors, including economic anxiety, distrust of elites and religious identity. Collapsing all of this into “Nazism” is analytically lazy and politically disastrous.
All that on top of the risk of historical whitewashing that comes with this rhetoric. If every abuse is Nazism, then nothing is Nazism, and the lessons of the Holocaust — foremost among them the necessity of vigorously combatting antisemitism in our society — are lost.
Of course, supporters of Trump also engage in similar rhetoric, calling their own opponents Nazis. Ending this cycle of mutual Nazi-labeling is essential if the country hopes to move forward. Historical memory is a tool, not a weapon. We can confront injustice without exaggeration. And the best way to defend democracy is not to demonize our opponents, but rather to speak clearly, act responsibly, and work to build a political culture that can actually heal.
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Italian rapper Ghali’s planned Winter Olympics set draws backlash over his Gaza advocacy
(JTA) — Italian rapper Ghali’s slated performance at the opening ceremony for this year’s Winter Olympics in Milan has drawn criticism from Italian leaders over his past activism against Israel.
Ghali Amdouni, a prominent Milan-born rapper of Tunisian parents, will be joined by a host of performers including Andrea Bocelli and Mariah Carey during the opening ceremony on Feb. 6. This year, nine Israelis will compete, including the national bobsled team for the first time.
The selection of Ghali drew criticism from members of Italy’s right-wing League party.
“It is truly incredible to find a hater of Israel and the centre-right, already the protagonist of embarrassing and vulgar scenes, at the opening ceremony,” a source from the party told the Italian outlet La Presse. “Italy and the games deserve an artist, not a pro-Pal fanatic.”
In early 2024, Ghali drew criticism from Italian Jewish leaders and Israel’s former ambassador to Italy, Alon Bar, after he called to “stop genocide” during his performance at the Sanremo Italian song festival. The spat later spurred protests outside the office of the Italian public broadcaster RAI.
On X, the rapper has also criticized other artists for not using their platforms for pro-Palestinian activism and appeared to refer to the war in Gaza as a “new Holocaust.”
Ghali’s selection comes as Italy has become an epicenter of pro-Palestinian activism that has been sustained even as such activism has receded in other places. In October, over 2 million Italians took part in a one-day general strike in support of Palestinians and the Global Sumud Flotilla. The previous month, a separate general strike was organized in response to call from the country’s unions to “denounce the genocide in Gaza.”
According to a study of global antisemitism published in April by Tel Aviv University, Italy was one of two countries that saw a spike in antisemitic incidents from 2023 to 2024. A September survey from the pollster SWG found that roughly 15% of Italians believe that physical attacks on Jewish people are “entirely or fairly justifiable.”
Italian Sports Minister Andrea Abodi said he does not believe Ghali will make a political statement on stage.
“It doesn’t embarrass me at all to disagree with Ghali’s views and the messages he sent,” said Abodi, according to the Italian outlet La Repubblica. “But I believe that a country should be able to withstand the impact of an artist expressing an opinion that we don’t share. And that opinion will not, in any case, be expressed on that stage.”
Noemi Di Segni, the president of the Union of the Italian Jewish Community, told Italian media that she was hopeful Ghali would receive instructions ahead of his performance.
“It is clear that I hope Ghali has received instructions or guidelines on the ‘role’ he is expected to play. So I hope he will understand what he needs to do in that context and at that moment,” Di Segni told the Italian outlet La Milano. “I am confident that he will understand what he is called upon to do in that context and at that moment.”
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After Alex Pretti killing in Minneapolis, Jewish gun owners confront Second Amendment tensions
(JTA) — Roberta Tarnove was horrified last week when she learned that a man protesting ICE was shot and killed in Minneapolis. And it wasn’t just because someone was dead.
The 65-year-old Jewish resident of Los Angeles was also distressed that federal officials said the agents were justified in shooting Alex Pretti because they believed he was armed. Pretti, 37, was a licensed gun owner in a state where carrying a gun openly is legal.
“I’m very sad. He certainly had every right to carry a gun,” Tarnove said.
The situation hit home for Tarnove because she, too, owns guns and has a permit allowing her to carry concealed firearms.
“As a Jewish person whose Sunday school teachers were mostly Holocaust survivors, there was something about Donald Trump’s presidential run that just hit me hard,” she said. “The dog whistles and things just sounded alarm bells in my head, and so I think I need to get a gun, not that I can overthrow the government, but just for personal protection.”
Since getting her first gun in 2015, Tarnove has been part of a Southern California Jewish gun club, Bullets & Bagels.
There was no discussion of Pretti’s killing at a Bullets & Bagels event featuring the Los Angeles district attorney on Sunday, according to the club’s founder, Fred Kogen. He said he could not comment on the specifics of the shooting.
“What happened there was that this gentleman lost his life, that’s all I know, to be honest, and that, interestingly enough, has not been a discussion within the community of Jewish shooters that I’m a part of,” Kogen said.
Tarnove wasn’t there on Sunday. But she said she wasn’t surprised by Kogen’s report.
“The reaction from the overruling gun community — and apparently the government — is, well, if you bring a gun to protest, you’re going to get shot,” Tarnove said. “So it’s Second Amendment for me, but not for thee, which is one of the things about the gun culture I really hate.”
Pretti’s killing has spurred sharp debate over whether the Trump administration’s response to armed protesters may be at odds with Second Amendment protections traditionally cherished by conservatives.
The debate is also taking place among American Jews. While American Jews have historically opposed gun ownership, Oct. 7 and the ensuing rise in antisemitism across the country has spurred many to take up arms for the first time. Now, Jewish gun owners are confronting a tension that has emerged between their right to bear arms and the federal government’s response to armed civilians.
“My personal opinion is that he was executed,” said J.N., a 59-year-old Jewish gun owner in the Washington, D.C., suburbs who requested anonymity to protect his employment. “I’ve watched the video like everybody else, his hand never went anywhere near his gun. It was handled horrifically.”
On the other hand, Bruce Cohen, a lifelong Jewish gun owner in Arizona who hosts the Facebook group Jews for the Preservation of Firearms Ownership, said he believed Pretti was “looking for trouble.”
“I don’t know if I can fault the law enforcement officer,” Cohen said. “As a libertarian, I want very, very strict limits on police powers, I do not want police to abuse or mistreat or mislead citizens or non-citizens, for that matter, but I can see how that could happen, and if that person was more careful and more friendly and exercised his freedom of speech and right to protest in a more appropriate manner then he could be protesting today.”
In the wake of Pretti’s killing, several Trump administration officials said his gun possession instigated the shooting. Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem claimed Pretti “attacked” officers and was “brandishing” a gun, though a preliminary report completed on Tuesday by Customs and Border Protection found he did not brandish a weapon during the encounter.
On Tuesday, President Donald Trump himself said, “You can’t have guns. You can’t walk in with guns,” in response to a question about the killing from PBS.
“My assessment is the government is lying,” said J.N. “I don’t know why he carried it, but he’s entitled to carry it, he had a concealed carry permit. The Second Amendment says that you’re allowed to carry a gun, so I can’t fathom why the government, supposedly a Republican government, would say that.”
In a post on X, the National Rifle Association took aim at the rhetoric from the federal government, writing, “Responsible public voices should be awaiting a full investigation, not making generalizations and demonizing law-abiding citizens.”
A national Jewish gun club, Lox & Loaded, echoed that sentiment.
“Lox & Loaded stands firmly behind the absolute right to bear and conceal arms in any lawful setting,” said COO Gayle Pearlstein. “The pending investigation and resulting determination of the incident involving Mr. Pretti and federal law enforcement should in no way interfere with or call into question this longstanding personal right.”
Jordan Levine, the Jewish founder of the online gun advocacy group A Better Way 2A, said he believed the shooting of Pretti “sets a precedent, because it calls into question if somebody can be murdered for simply carrying a gun.”
But Levine stipulated that he was not concerned “as of right now” about losing Second Amendment rights.
“The Trump administration, thankfully, is still a bit removed from our court systems, and we’ve seen time and time again the court’s ruling in favor of Second Amendment liberties,” Levine continued.
Cohen said he would have handled the situation differently in Pretti’s shoes.
“If I was in his situation with his motivations, I would have introduced myself to the cops. I would have shaken hands with the cops, I would have said, hey, I disagree with what you’re doing, but thank you for being professional,” said Cohen.
But others within the JPFO Facebook group were quick to decry the federal government’s rhetoric.
“I’m not going to shut up and wait when agents of an authoritarian government are violating the rights of and killing citizens,” wrote one JPFO member. “The Declaration of Independence gives us the right to fight tyranny.”
J.N., who is also a member of the JPFO group, said, “As a Jewish person, and as an American, it sickens me.”
In the wake of Pretti’s killing, many critics have likened ICE’s tactics in Minneapolis to the Gestapo in Nazi Germany. While both Trump administration officials and some Jewish voices have called such comparisons inappropriate, for J.N., the similarities rang true.
“I’m not going to call them Nazis, because nobody’s being sent to the showers and burned en masse, OK, I get the difference, but I can tell you that I feel like they are using Gestapo techniques,” J.N. said.
Cohen said the comparison was a “standard left-wing package.”
“They train people to say that stuff, and it’s hypocritical and insincere because they don’t actually believe what they’re saying,” said Cohen. “I don’t see that at all, because we’re not, you know, the Jews in Germany. We’re not illegal aliens, we’re not on welfare, we’re not doing criminal things, we’re not stealing financially.”
For Tarnove, the federal government’s rhetoric around Pretti’s gun ownership had raised alarm bells for potential restrictions against gun ownership for certain groups.
“We aren’t past the point of no return, but we are getting so darn close, and I wish that more Jews would recognize that,” said Tarnove. “When the government can go after one group of people, then they can go after any group of people, and you’re not safe.”
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