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With 1.6M followers, TikTok influencer Miriam Ezagui teaches the masses about her Orthodox lifestyle

(JTA) — “Hi my name is Miriam,” the video begins. “I’m an Orthodox Jew, and I share what my life is like.” 

So opens a typical TikTok post from Miriam Ezagui, a 37-year-old Brooklyn-based labor and delivery nurse who has amassed 1.6 million followers on the social media platform. Users who make their way to “JewTok,” as the Jewish corner of TikTok is known, have likely encountered Ezagui’s videos, which cover everything from purchasing a sheitel to making matzah ball soup to a makeup tutorial with her daughter.

Since starting her account in May 2020, Ezagui has cemented herself at the top of the searches for “Jewish” and “Orthodox Jewish” thanks to her warm demeanor, easy humor and information-based approach. But she didn’t set out to become a Jewish influencer. 

“I didn’t originally start as a Jewish account,” Ezagui told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. Instead, it was a way to be productive while on maternity leave for her fourth child: “It gave me an excuse to get dressed and not just walk around in pajamas all day.”  

“I never would have imagined that it would be where it is today,” Ezagui said of her TikTok account. “It’s been a little life-changing.”

These days, Ezagui gets invited to numerous events and Jewish product launches: she’s received free clothes thanks to collaborations with local retailers; tickets to see the off-Broadway play “The Wanderers” in exchange for an ad on her account, as well as discounts at the well-known Shani Wigs store in Brooklyn. Ezagui, who collaborates with both Jewish and non-Jewish influencers, said she’s often recognized as she goes about her day-to-day life. 

Ezagui, who is Hasidic and whose four daughters range in age from 18 months to 9 years old, began her account as a way to share tips on the best ways to safely and comfortably hold a baby using woven wraps. But that all changed in late January 2022, when comedian and “The View” host Whoopi Goldberg said on air that “the Holocaust isn’t about race.” 

As the granddaughter of Holocaust survivors, Ezagui said she questioned how someone with as much of a platform as Goldberg had such a lack of understanding about the Holocaust — so she decided to speak up and create a video that debunked Goldberg’s claims.  

“I really had a long, hard think about whether I wanted to come out as being openly Jewish online because I was really scared of hatred and antisemitism because it’s so easy for people to do that online because they can just be a blank profile or screen,” Ezagui explained of why she was initially skeptical to post. “I never hide the fact that I’m Jewish, but I was not a social media personality … I share things personally but not with the world.” 

Ezagui made her first explainer video in February 2022, breaking down why the Holocaust was an attempt to eliminate the Jewish people because the Nazis viewed them as a lesser race.  “I feel like I have an obligation as a Jewish woman,” she said in the three-minute clip. “As the granddaughter of not one, but two, Holocaust survivors, I feel like my voice needs to be heard.”

“The Nazi movement wanted to eradicate Jewish people from the world. They saw us as subhuman, they saw us as inferior, something that the world needed cleansing of,” she added. “If you read the Nuremberg Laws, they refer to us as the Jewish race. They racialized us, they slapped stars on our arms, put us in concentration camps, sent us to gas chambers because we were Jewish — our whiteness didn’t save us.”   

Though the video got positive feedback from her followers, the video only received around 350 likes. But her account started attracting a large following in April 2022, when she featured her grandmother, Lilly Malnik, who discussed her memories of the Holocaust. The video, titled “Meet my Bubby,” racked up over 30,000 likes.  

In the next four months, several of Ezagui’s videos began to rack up anywhere from tens of thousands to millions of likes and views. In one particular TikTok from June 2022, Malnik discusses how she lost her menstrual cycle while in Auschwitz. The clip garnered 3.1 million likes and 23.4 million views. 

Along the way, Ezagui began producing more Judaism-focused content. Within two months of her first Jewish video, half of Ezagui’s content had become talking about the Jewishness of her day-to-day life. These days, she posts a mix of storytimes (a popular type of TikTok video in which creators recount a story about their lives), explainer videos on Orthodox customs and scenes from her days as a mom and nurse.

“It’s a lot about multitasking or it’s a lot about me just filming my everyday life,” she added, explaining how she manages to fit between one and four hours of filming each day, except on Shabbat. “You know, ‘OK, I’m making some chicken matzah ball soup. Let’s take out the camera.’” 

It’s a mixture that’s clearly working for her. Fans say that it’s Ezagui’s authenticity — her children are often yelling in the background, for example — is what sets her apart. “I like Miriam so much because I feel like she embodies the idea of an influencer staying true to themselves,” said Alyssa Cruz,19, of Toledo, Ohio. “She does not apologize for living her life a certain way, but she also handles hate and criticism with grace and respect. You can tell her what her true intentions are, and she never tries to be anyone but herself.”

“​​I like that she’s not as much of an ‘influencer’ as some other similar types of TikTok channels,” said Rachel Delman Turniansky, 57, from Baltimore. “I get that there are people who have been able to monetize their accounts, and good for them, but it’s kind of a nice break from that to see someone who isn’t doing it for that reason.”

“Miriam is a friend of mine, so it’s been fun to watch her grow,” said Shaina, a 25-year-old in Wellington, Florida, who knows Ezagui personally and did not want to share her last name for privacy reasons. “I’m also an Orthodox nurse, and I love seeing the way she runs so many different parts of her life — work, family, religion, TikTok, her own hobbies, etc. — in such a great rhythm. She doesn’t hide behind filters, and set ups. What you see is her real day to day life.”

Though Ezagui’s approach is often no-nonsense and educational, her videos are occasionally livened up with her unique blend of sarcasm and cheekiness — something her fans lovingly call “spicy Miriam.” 

“I love Miriam’s humor — it’s mom humor so it reminds me of my own mother,” said 22-year-old Los Angeles native Alexa Hirsch. “I love her sexual innuendos because they’re so lighthearted and cute! I love how she manages to maintain her family friendly persona while also normalizing discussions about personal and private aspects of Orthodox Judaism.”

When asked whether Orthodox Jews can have sex on Shabbat, Miriam responded that the practice is “actually encouraged,” then boldly calls for her husband to help her push the beds together, raising her eyebrows and smirking. 

@miriamezagui

Replying to @greysanatomyfanatic is making a baby allowed on shabbos? #babymaking #shabbos #religion #jewishtiktok #husbandwife

♬ original sound – Miriam Ezagui

As her internet fame has grown, so, too, has the amount of antisemitic comments Ezagui has received on her accounts. Perhaps not surprisingly, she has found that her posts about Judaism have received the most hate. “When people are trolling my account, I’m not afraid to call them out, but I don’t want to make it [my account] all about that,” she said. “But when I do call out, I like to do them in a tasteful way.”

For example Ezagui, in response to a comment saying “go in the oven jew,” Ezagui filmed a video in which she superimposed the comment over a video in which she says: “For thousands of years Jews have been persecuted. Great empires have tried to extinguish our flame, but we survive. We. Will. Always. Survive! Your hatred has no power over me.” 

 

Ezagui emphasized how important it is for her account to be a safe space for all people, regardless of their race, gender or religion. She consistently features content creators and also man-on-the-street videos of people of all backgrounds — in one video, she and a Muslim friend discuss why they cover their hair, and in another she discusses topics like why Purim costumes should not appropriate other cultures.

“I welcome everyone to my channel,” she said. “ I accept people as they are, I think it makes them feel comfortable.” 

“She’s all about education, and in a world filled with falsehoods and stereotypes about Jews, it’s nice to see someone actively combatting it and engaging with people’s questions,” said Olivia, a 21-year-old living in Morningside Heights who declined to provide her last name. “There are so many people in the world who have never met anyone Jewish in their lives, and to them, Jews are almost fictitious, mythical, evil creatures rather than just real people. It’s really difficult to be so visible as a Jewish person, especially an Orthodox one, yet she does it anyway, and I think that’s really brave and commendable.” 

When the busy mom isn’t on camera and or at work, she enjoys reading, experimenting in the kitchen and getting some much needed R&R at the nail salon.  

In the future, Ezagui hopes to bring the birthing classes she runs in the Orthodox community to a wider audience, or even to start a podcast. Both ideas are still in their early stages but would continue her TikTok account’s mission of education.  

“A lot of people don’t know Orthodox Jews, and there’s a lot of antisemitism surrounding Jews from a place of not, like, extreme hatred,” Ezagui said. “I’m not here to change anybody’s mind if they hate us for no reason, just to hate. But there’s a lot of people that hate Jews, just because of stereotypes that are not real or because there’s a lack of information. 

“One of the things that I hope to accomplish with my account is that people can learn from a Jewish person directly,” she added. “And that has a positive impact.”


The post With 1.6M followers, TikTok influencer Miriam Ezagui teaches the masses about her Orthodox lifestyle appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.

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Possible Platner replacements and their divergent stands on Israel

(JTA) — Following the implosion of Graham Platner — a harsh critic of Israel who lobbed a parting shot about “genocide” in Gaza in his video Wednesday quitting the Maine Senate race — a number of possible replacements have emerged. And as their names have surfaced, interest and questions about their positions on issues of concern to the Jewish community also have arisen.

There is a significant range of views among the possible candidates on the American Israel Public Affairs Committee pro-Israel lobby, arms sales to Israel and whether there was a genocide in Gaza, based on their past and recent comments.

In statements to JTA, pro-Israel groups Democratic Majority for Israel and the Jewish Democratic Council of America both urged the party to nominate a candidate aligned with their values; Platner had drawn concern from a number of Jewish groups because of his covered-up Nazi tattoo and stance on Israel.

Some of Platner’s former volunteers have said they want his replacement to fit his mold as a progressive and Israel critic who is taking on establishment politics in the effort to unseat GOP Sen. Susan Collins. After Platner dropped out, the Maine Democratic Party announced on Wednesday that to fill the candidate vacancy it will hold a nominating convention made up of about 600 people selected by county-level Democratic committees. The timing of the convention is not yet clear; the deadline for naming a replacement is July 27.

“There is an unprecedented amount of energy and enthusiasm among Maine Democrats, driven in part by many of the dedicated volunteers and supporters who were inspired by Graham Platner’s campaign,” the party said in a statement. “We look forward to coming together and harnessing that energy around our new nominee as we work to defeat Susan Collins in November.”

Here are some of the replacements being mentioned and what they’ve said about Jewish-related issues, Israel and AIPAC. None of the possible nominees responded to JTA’s requests for comment.

Nirav Shah, epidemiologist and healthcare executive

Nirav Shah, who ran for the Democratic gubernatorial nomination in June, finishing second in ranked-choice voting, told reporter David Weigel on Tuesday that he supports an arms embargo on Israel, and he accuses the country of having committing genocide. Shah also said that in keeping with his policy he would not accept funds or an endorsement from AIPAC.

Shah has touted himself as a political outsider like Platner and said Tuesday that he had “no establishment support, and no major political endorsements” when he was running for governor. He has called on possible Platner replacement to participate in a televised debate and “multiple” town halls across the state to make the nomination process transparent.

Troy Jackson, logger and union leader

Troy Jackson, who has backing from the left, had a close political alliance with Platner until calling for him to step aside on Monday and officially launching his campaign for the nomination on Wednesday.

A number of Platner’s supporters have called for the party to nominate Jackson, who finished third behind Shah in the gubernatorial primary. He’s said little publicly related to Israel, but in his run for governor, Jackson had the backing of a number of left-wing, strongly pro-Palestinian politicians, including Vermont Sen. Bernie Sanders and California Rep. Ro Khanna, as well as Maine’s Democratic Socialists of America chapter.

Sanders’ group Our Revolution and left-wing streamer Hasan Piker — a staunch Israel critic who’s drawn accusations of antisemitism — are both backing Jackson to be the new Senate nominee.

In 2024, at the Maine State Democratic Convention, Jackson, who served as convention chairman, reportedly attempted to quiet down a small group of protesters who called for a ceasefire in Gaza and called Maine Rep. Jared Golden a “war criminal” during a video celebrating the Jewish congressman.

“I believe in the ability of people to demonstrate and protest,” Jackson said amid the outburst. “There is a time for that.”

Shenna Bellows, Maine secretary of state

Before assuming her current role, a position that is filled by state lawmakers every two years, Shenna Bellows served as the executive director of the Holocaust and Human Rights Center of Maine.

In May, Bellows spoke at the Jewish-Asian Friendship Dinner, hosted by the Jewish Community Alliance of Southern Maine. Bellows said she began working with the JCA during her time leading the Holocaust museum, and said she’d attended numerous events that discussed “many stories of Holocaust survivors and of genocide around the world, and how important it is that we stand up for all of each other, and for unity, and the love that we have for all of each other.”

Bellows also commended the JCA for its response to the surge of Immigration and Customs Enforcement presence over the winter, which included mutual aid to support people who felt unsafe leaving their homes.

Bellows does not appear to have commented extensively on Israel, although she signed Maine Gov. Janet Mills’ 2023 proclamation recognizing the 75th anniversary of the founding of modern Israel that wished the country “a peaceful and prosperous future.”

Jordan Wood, ex-congressional staffer

A former staffer for former California Rep. Katie Porter, Jordan Wood spoke extensively about his views on Israel and AIPAC in an interview as a Senate candidate in Maine last fall. He was the first Democrat to enter the race for Collins’ Senate seat before being overshadowed by Platner and later suspending his campaign to run for the House.

Wood told Democratic commentator Kaivan Shroff that he would support Sanders’ resolution to restrict offensive weapons sales to Israel but backs the continuation of aid to the Jewish state with conditions.

Wood said he believes Israel has committed war crimes in Gaza, but stopped short of accusing the country of genocide, pointing to a connection between that accusation and a rise in antisemitism.

“I’ve hesitated on it because I’m also seeing a real rise in antisemitism in the United States,” Wood said. “My husband is Jewish, and the acts of violence toward Jewish Americans is very much connected to the language that we use.”

Wood added that it would be “a huge deal for the United States Congress to designate what’s going on in Gaza as a genocide officially.”

“There could be consequences to that of US citizens that have served in the IDF,” he said. “Do they get prosecuted?”

Wood also said he would not take money from AIPAC, and added that there is a “huge amount of distrust” of the lobbying organization among Democratic voters.

“I believe the only way to truly prove to a voter that you are voting and prioritizing policies in their best interest, and for our country’s best interest, is to remove any perception of corruption or misdealing,” Wood said.

Dan Kleban, brewery owner 

Dan Kleban, who announced on Wednesday that he is back in the race for Senate after having suspended his campaign in October and endorsing Gov. Janet Mills, who dropped out before the primary after trailing in the polls, has a very different approach from Platner to the U.S.-Israel relationship.

In an interview with CNN on Wednesday, Kleban refrained from accusing Israel of committing  genocide, instead calling the military campaign in Gaza an “absolute tragedy.” Kleban said he would condition arms sales to Israel.

When Kleban — a political novice and co-founder and co-owner of the Maine Beer Company — first launched his Senate campaign last fall, he told Politico that he did not support the recent resolution from Sanders to block certain arms sales to Israel.

“I believe Israel has a right to defend itself,” he said. “I don’t think that we solve the horrific humanitarian crisis in Gaza by disarming Israel and exposing them to harm.”

This article originally appeared on JTA.org.

The post Possible Platner replacements and their divergent stands on Israel appeared first on The Forward.

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For generations of Jews, this cookbook defined the journey from immigration to assimilation

Recipes for the Melting Pot: The Lives of the Settlement Cook Book
By Nora L. Rubel
Columbia University Press, 232 pages, $28

It was an inspiration for bestselling cookbook writer Mark Bittman, a trusted reference for James Beard, the first recipe book owned by New York Times food critic Mimi Sheraton, and the source of the recipes that famed Jewish cookbook writer Joan Nathan grew up with: The Settlement Cook Book, across 40 editions, sold over 2 million copies and defined Jewish American food.

In her book Recipes for the Melting Pot: The Lives of the Settlement Cook Book, Nora L. Rubel traces the book from its birth as a 1901 fundraising pamphlet by Elizabeth “Lizzie” Black Kander, a kosher cooking-class instructor for Milwaukee immigrants, to its life as a hardcover distributed globally by Simon & Schuster into the 1990s.

For many Jewish Americans, the cookbook brings back memories of seder meals and their mother’s brisket. I didn’t grow up with a dog-eared copy of my grandma’s, but that didn’t mean I found the book any less interesting. Rubel, a University of Rochester professor of religion, discovered The Settlement Cook Book in graduate school. In it, she found not just a snapshot of the Jewish American kitchen throughout the 20th century, but also a continuous debate over what counts as American, conducted in the language of potato soup and noodle kugel.

Rubel credits Kander with pioneering “culinary pluralism” at a time when social reformers pushed immigrants to rid themselves of their garlicky and spiced ethnic cuisine in favor of a blander New England “diet of cornmeal mush and pea soup.“ Kander, a Reform Jew, aimed to help recently arrived Eastern European Jews integrate into American society. Unlike Christian reformers, Kander, an ethnic minority herself, envisioned an America where immigrant groups belonged.

The first edition contained kosher recipes for traditional Ashkenazi fare, but the Russian Jewish immigrant women in Kander’s class were also being prepared for domestic work in the Milwaukee homes of wealthier German Jews like Kander who did not keep kosher and had a taste for ethnic cuisine. Thus, the matzo ball recipe appears on the same page as the mulligatawny soup, and filled fish (gefilte fish) sits alongside scalloped oysters.

Rubel argues that, by not placing Jewish or other ethnic dishes in a separate section, the Settlement Cook Book is the among the first to define modern American cuisine through its immigrants. “Kander’s vision of American diversity,” she writes, “suggests that ethnic recipes are on equal footing with each other and traditional ‘American’ recipes, thus framing the United States as a multiethnic society.”

The ethnic mix and straightforward, simple recipes made Kander’s book the most successful of the era’s many charitable cookbooks. It funded the Abraham Lincoln House, which offered programming for impoverished Jews, as well as the Milwaukee Jewish Center, and helped establish Milwaukee’s first nursery school. By mid-century it had expanded from helping Jewish immigrants to funding programs for the broader public.

Kander was blunt that her philanthropy was rooted in what she called a “selfish motive.” The affluent German-Jewish community in Milwaukee feared the newly arrived Orthodox, unassimilated Yiddish-speaking Eastern European Jews might spark American antisemitism, which would threaten their own status. “To protect ourselves, our own reputation in the community,” Rubel quotes Kander,  “we must work with tact, with heart and soul to better the home conditions of our people . . . and teach them habits of industry and cleanliness.”

The quote is a reminder that despite the framing of Kander as a multiculturalist, at its heart, The Settlement Cook Book was an assimilationist project. As Rubel notes in her introduction, “liking foodways does not automatically translate into welcoming the people who make it.” A century ago, Americans ate chow mein while backing the Chinese Exclusion Act; many today happily order tacos and arepas, while supporting ICE raids targeting Mexican and Venezuelan immigrants. Still, the book captures a real push-and-pull into what counts as American– with the immigrants being Americanized, inevitably changing what it means to be American. .

Unsurprisingly, many Jewish immigrants didn’t appreciate Kander’s “selfish motive.” While young Jewish women were enthusiastic about the classes, their parents resented the patronizing German-Jewish teachers. Kander’s plan to train domestic workers backfired, the immigrant girls rejected being “neat little housekeepers,”  preferring clerical and garment work. Rubel notes that the Jewish women avoided work at the time associated with African Americans. “In a country with a distinct color line,” she wrote, “Jews found their whiteness still in question, tenuous at best.”

In response, Kander pitched the cooking classes as preparation for marriage, as captured in the book’s original title: The Way to a Man’s Heart: The Settlement Cook Book. For decades, the book was a quintessential bridal gift, yet its crowdsourced nature allowed it to evolve with the times.

Wartime editions included canning instructions; the book went dry during Prohibition; and new gadgets and processed foods were introduced to keep up with the post-war kitchen. By the 1970s, however, the nonprofit organization that held the rights to The Settlement Cook Book resisted change, and became a guardian of tradition. The book stubbornly kept old fashioned housekeeping tips like how to remove stains with cod-liver oil and a section entitled “When There Is No Maid.” Only in the last edition, published in 1991, did an editor prevail to have pad Thai, curried lentil and refried beans appear alongside kugel and kreplach, altering the book’s content, but returning to Kander’s multicultural instincts.

Most keenly, Rubel examines the paradox of what makes The Settlement Cook Book so profoundly Jewish, given its massive popularity among gentiles and while it had many Jewish recipes, one would never know from its cover. Simon & Schuster, which took over the book in 1954, further chipped away at any hint of Jewishness in favor of mass appeal.

But as was the case with mid-century Jews assimilating into middle-class America, the cookbook’s Jewishness was not erased; it was merely coded, obvious to anyone looking for it.  It’s precisely the cosmopolitan blending of recipes that makes The Settlement Cook Book a truer representation of how Jewish Americans actually ate than a Haddasah cookbook or the popular 1958 Jennie Grossinger’s The Art of Jewish Cooking. “Unlike kosher cookbooks that eschew treyf,” writes Rubel, “it is what this cookbook includes, rather than what it omits, that codes the text as Jewish.”

Ultimately, this coded nature led to the book’s greatest irony. As mid-century Jewish Americans moved to the suburbs, they yearned for the food and customs of the old neighborhood, if not the old country. Once a tool to Americanize Jews, The Settlement Cook Book became the definitive guide for American Jews who wanted to remember how to make matzo brei and gefilte fish. Rubel argues that the book itself became a marker of a Jewish home without explicitly announcing religion or ethnicity.

Though nostalgia kept The Settlement Cook Book alive in its final decades, and has kept it in the Jewish American consciousness, I have no memory of my family ever using it and have zero nostalgia for it. The recipes Rubel reproduces in her book might be of historical interest, but a 1910 chop suey recipe with canned mushrooms and chicken gizzards is decidedly dated today. And yet, reading this book, I felt incredibly seen.

That is because, as early as 1901, Lizzie Black Kander defined part of being Jewish in America as a cosmopolitan embrace of the world. The 1921 edition, for instance, includes  a “Chinese Supper” menu as well as a list of Passover Seder recipes, “allowing Jews,” as Rubel puts it, “to have their gefilte fish and eat chop suey too.”

Yet 125 years since Lizzie Kander wrote her recipe pamphlet, it’s clear that, when it comes to building a truly multicultural and tolerant society, enjoying both gefilte fish and chop suey is the easy part.

The post For generations of Jews, this cookbook defined the journey from immigration to assimilation appeared first on The Forward.

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Israelis are experiencing a new kind of international boycott

Israelis are not facing formal sanctions from Western corporations. No international business coalition has announced a boycott. No major bank or airline has openly declared that Israeli customers are unwelcome.

Yet many Israelis are increasingly encountering something quieter and more difficult to define: a new norm of friction and the sense that when systems fail for Israelis, nobody feels much urgency to fix them.

Consider a recent experience I had with the United Kingdom’s NatWest bank.

When NatWest stopped sending authentication texts to Israeli phone numbers in the spring, I assumed it was just a technical error. Banks malfunction. Security systems fail. But then the bank’s mobile app stopped properly recognizing my Israeli number — despite that number having functioned perfectly well beforehand. Customer service representatives offered contradictory explanations. The fallback solution was supposed to be a physical card reader for secure logins. I requested one repeatedly. Nothing arrived for months. Then, in early May, a representative informed me that NatWest apparently was not mailing card readers to Israel, either.

On a visit to London, I went to a branch, where they offered no explanations; they put me on the phone with customer service, where the agent repeated that they were no longer engaging in contact with Israeli phone numbers or addresses, due to “war tensions.” So I emailed every executive I could find to ask, directly, if the bank was boycotting Israel.

After lengthy exchanges, I was told that Israeli access was removed earlier in the year. The bank insisted the restrictions were not political and not specific to Israel, but rather part of broader fraud prevention measures. So I asked which other countries were affected. This, the bank refused to answer.

On its own, this could still be dismissed as another case of corporate opacity mixed with bureaucratic risk aversion. (Eventually, a physical card reader did make its way to me, still with no clear explanation for the delay.) But it was not the first strange interaction I had experienced.

In early 2024, I ordered a novel from Amazon. The book arrived at my home in Tel Aviv damaged and obviously used, despite being sold as new. Customer service initially handled the issue professionally, immediately agreeing to replace the order. Then I provided my address. There was silence.

“I see this address is not on the map,” the representative finally said. “I only see Palestine.” Then the line disconnected.

An alarming interaction, but the representative was expressing a personal political view, not enforcing corporate policy. What proved more revealing was Amazon’s institutional indifference afterward. Despite repeated inquiries to the company’s press office, I never received a clear decrial of the customer service representative’s actions. The issue simply disappeared into a bureaucratic void.

That sorry episode was felicitous in a way: It inspired my first op-ed for the Forward.

Then came British Airways.

After BA canceled flights between Tel Aviv and London in 2025 following a Houthi missile strike near Ben-Gurion Airport, my wife and I scrambled to reconstruct an itinerary at enormous personal expense. Wars disrupt aviation. That part was understandable.

What followed afterward was not. Months passed in a maze of contradictory responses, partial refunds, bureaucratic evasions and compensation offers so absurd that they bordered on parody. Only after I contacted the airline’s press office identifying myself as a journalist did the company suddenly rediscover the ability to communicate. Even then, the process remained exhausting and opaque. We were compensated perhaps a third the value of the ticket lost, with no apology whatsoever.

None of these incidents independently prove anti-Israel discrimination. Banks mistreat customers. Airlines fail passengers. Customer service departments malfunction. Yet together they illustrate a kind of new atmosphere for Israelis.

The most profound sign of that atmosphere has come in academia. As a new report by the Technion documents, what was once an academic boycott of Israel evolved from highly visible protests toward a more diffuse climate of exclusion.

Jewish students in Sweden reported hiding their identities in academic environments. British surveys found that roughly one in five students said they would not want to live with a Jewish roommate. Canadian campus activism increasingly moved from symbolic rhetoric toward operational demands for universities to sever ties with Israeli institutions and withdraw investments.

My friend Bar Harel experienced this personally at Portugal’s University of Coimbra. After complaining about antisemitic graffiti, pro-Hamas and Hezbollah imagery, and slogans such as “No Jews wanted” around campus, Harel became a target. He was threatened online, publicly vilified, physically assaulted near campus and told his family “should burn in a second Holocaust.”

University authorities largely deflected responsibility. Only after he fled Portugal at the advice of Israeli and American diplomats did the state ombudsman finally issue a report that said the university had adopted a “posture of fundamental passivity” in response to his harassment, failing to investigate despite clear evidence.

In business and academia alike, organizations don’t need to announce formal sanctions to change Israeli experience. They simply begin treating Israel operationally troublesome.

Does all this come from antisemitism — or is it a form of quiet protest against Israel’s brutality during the past years’ wars, or the indefensible situation in the West Bank? Does it relate to the current right-wing government — and if so, is it fixable should the moderate opposition return to power?

I do not have definitive answers, and there’s probably a mix of reasons. But it is clear that Israelis are losing the global narrative with astounding speed, and unless this is countered, more formal boycotts are on the way.

The post Israelis are experiencing a new kind of international boycott appeared first on The Forward.

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