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A year after the LA fires, the lesson is clear: Our greatest disasters are often self-inflicted
LOS ANGELES — “The Palisades was this idyllic community,” Jeremy Padawer said. “People actually knew each other. They talked to one another. You knew your neighbors. It was exactly what I needed to provide for my children.”
Padawer, an entrepreneur, lost his home in the fire that tore through the Pacific Palisades, an affluent Los Angeles neighborhood, a year ago. That fire was not a natural disaster; instead, an arsonist lit the original fire in a brushy area beyond Palisades Drive. Then, after firefighters extinguished it, we know from a tireless Los Angeles Times investigation, their senior officials failed to order further monitoring of the burn area, which reignited.
Nature provided 80-mph winds on Jan. 8, 2025. But human incompetence and hubris fed the flames.
The result? 12 people died. More than 6,500 local homes were destroyed, 25,000 people were displaced, and 37 square miles were burned or covered in toxic ash. The economic loss is estimated at $250 billion.
A year after the fire, I visited one of the most iconic buildings affected by the fire: Villa Aurora, once owned by the German Jewish novelist Lion Feuchtwanger, who fled Nazi Germany after the Nazis declared him “enemy of the state number one.”
There, the lessons of this unnatural disaster became clear.
‘Everything you see now was burned’
It’s not an especially brilliant insight to point out that most of the tragedies that beset us, with the exception of the body’s natural decay and demise, are of our own making.
But that insight rang true to me as I stood on the balcony of Villa Aurora two weeks ago and looked out over the Palisades.
The sprawling, Spanish Revival hillside mansion was built in 1928 as a model home by a consortium of investors that included the Los Angeles Times, and came into Feuchtwanger’s hands after he fled southern France — where he had been in exile — in disguise as an old woman. Eventually, he reached Los Angeles as a refugee.
In his novel The Oppermans, published in 1933. Feuchtwanger detailed the persecution of a highly assimilated German Jewish family like his own. “The Oppermanns were clever people, they understood the world,” he wrote. “The world at large was indifferent.”
But in Villa Aurora, he and his wife Marta founded a refuge from indifference: a center of intellectual and cultural life for his fellow refugees, including the German Nobel laureate Thomas Mann, who found refuge in his own home, six miles east.
The 2025 fire came within a few feet of the villa, and while the flames didn’t claim the structure, they did infiltrate and pollute the precious books and furnishings with smoke and ash.
The fire torched the landscaping right up to the house. “Everything you see now was burned,” said Claudia Gordon, the director of Villa Aurora, which was bought by the German government in 1989 and eventually converted, along with the Thomas Mann House, into a retreat center for German artists.
Gordon let a group of us into the home last month. Industrial air purifiers were still churning, the last signs of an extensive year-long smoke remediation process.
The fire came so fast that Gordon was able to flee with only a few rare books and a Renaissance-era Purim scroll.
“It stopped there,” she pointed to a spot just a few feet from the balcony. “We were very lucky. This was all burned.” Houses on either side of the villa went up in smoke.
I stood on the balcony and looked down at the yard that a year earlier had been blackened. Now, I watched butterflies and hummingbirds flit over clusters of bright yellow and orange flowers, amid the deep green bushes that covered the hillside.
“The place is a monument to endurance in the face of exile and disaster,” wrote Los Angeles Times columnist Gustavo Arellano after his recent visit.
True, but it is also a reminder of the stubborn permanence of human folly.
Feuchtwanger’s refuge at Villa Aurora was marred by more inhumanity after the end of World War II. Because he had flirted with communism, he became a target of a new wave of American intolerance: that of McCarthyism. After the war, he couldn’t go abroad to take advantage of his best seller status, for fear of not being allowed to return.
Mann’s refuge was even more impermanent. Targeted by the House Un-American Activities Committee for his left-leaning associations, he left Los Angeles and moved to Switzerland, where he died.
“Spiritual intolerance, political inquisitions, and declining legal security, and all this in the name of an alleged ‘state of emergency.’ That is how it started in Germany,” Mann said in 1947.
None of these tragedies had to be, I reflected. Whether fleeing fascism, weathering McCarthyism, or watching a preventable fire consume a neighborhood, the human capacity for self-inflicted tragedy is as enduring as Villa Aurora itself.
The missing deputy mayor
Several hundred homeowners have filed a lawsuit against the state and city for negligence leading up to the fire. In a phone interview, Padawer, the entrepreneur who lost his home, outlined some of their claims.
A Palisades water reservoir was empty, he said; fire hydrants lacked pressure; state environmental regulations prevented adequate fire abatement measures in the initial burn area; and the city failed to field enough fire engines despite the imminent threat.
It didn’t help that a key city post was unfilled after a bizarre fake antisemitic bomb threat. On Oct. 3, 2024, Brian K. Williams, then Los Angeles deputy mayor of public safety, reported receiving a bomb threat against City Hall. It was the first day of Rosh Hashanah, and the caller said he was tired of the city’s support for Israel, according to Williams.
“In light of the Jewish holidays,” Williams’ memo to Mayor Karen Bass at the time read, “we are taking this a little more seriously. I will keep you posted.”
An investigation found that Williams himself made the threat. He was arrested by the FBI and removed from his position in December 2024. Williams, who said he acted out of “anxiety,” pleaded guilty to making a bomb threat and was sentenced to one year probation and a $5,000 fine. Bass left his position empty.
The Deputy Mayor for Public Safety specifically oversees crisis and disaster response, including wildfires, according to the city. Which meant that when the fires came in January, Los Angeles had no official overseeing the LAPD, LAFD, emergency management or disaster response. Bass didn’t appoint a replacement for Williams until April 2025, months after the city burned.
“These deputy mayors have real jobs,” said Padawer. “The mayor didn’t replace him.”
‘They Let Us Burn’
One year later, I drove down Radcliffe Ave., in the heart of the Palisades, where two dear friends once lived. I couldn’t figure where their houses had stood. It was all just empty land..
On many of the burned out buildings, someone had affixed posters with the words, “THEY LET US BURN,” in stark red and black.
The posters were part of a neighborhood movement, launched by Padawer, to hold officials accountable for the fire and the rebuilding.
“The damage is done. The city is gone,” reads an entry on the movement’s website. “Let’s keep politicians, builders, banks, insurance companies and all key stakeholders honest as we rebuild together. So that this NEVER happens in Los Angeles again.”
The motto for Padawer’s website? “News for Our Unnatural Disaster.”
“The first day after the fire, you have the mayor and the governor, saying, natural disaster, climate change,” said Padawer. “And why would they do that? They don’t want the liability associated with all of the failure. But everything about it was unnatural.”
Driving out of the Palisades, I thought back to Villa Aurora and the streets where my friends’ homes once stood. The exiles understood that while nature can be cruel, humans pose the greater threat. The empty lots prove them right.
The post A year after the LA fires, the lesson is clear: Our greatest disasters are often self-inflicted appeared first on The Forward.
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Pakistan, Indonesia Closing in on Jets and Drones Defense Deal, Sources Say
A JF-17 Thunder fighter jet of the Pakistan Air Force takes off from Mushaf base in Sargodha, north Pakistan, June 7, 2013. Photo: REUTERS/Zohra Bensemra
Indonesia‘s defense minister met Pakistan‘s air force chief in Islamabad to discuss a potential deal that includes the sale of combat jets and killer drones to Jakarta, three security officials with knowledge of the meeting on Monday said.
The talks come as Pakistan‘s defense industry moves forward with a series of defense procurement negotiations, including deals with Libya’s National Army and Sudan’s army, and looks to establish itself as a sizable regional player.
One source said the talks revolved around the sale of JF-17 jets, a multi-role combat aircraft jointly developed by Pakistan and China, and drones designed for surveillance and striking targets. The other two sources said the talks were in an advanced stage and involved more than 40 JF-17 jets. One of them said Indonesia was also interested in Pakistan‘s Shahpar drones.
The sources did not share any discussions about delivery timelines and the number of years a proposed deal would span.
Both Indonesia‘s Defense Ministry and Pakistan‘s military confirmed the meeting between Indonesian Defense Minister Sjafrie Sjamsoeddin and Pakistan‘s Air Chief Marshal Zaheer Ahmed Baber Sidhu.
“The meeting focused on discussing general defense cooperation relations, including strategic dialogue, strengthening communication between defense institutions, and opportunities for mutually beneficial cooperation in various fields in the long term,” defense ministry spokesperson Brigadier General Rico Ricardo Sirait told Reuters, adding the talks had not yet led to concrete decisions.
The Pakistani military confirmed the meeting in a statement and also said the defense minister met army chief Field Marshal Asim Munir for talks that “focused on matters of mutual interest, evolving regional and global security dynamics, and exploration of avenues for enhancing bilateral defense cooperation.”
INDONESIA REPLACING AGEING AIR FORCE FLEET
One additional security source with knowledge of military procurement talks said Pakistan was discussing the sale of JF-17 Thunder jets, air defense systems, training for junior, mid-level, and senior Indonesian air force officials, and engineering staff.
“The Indonesia deal is in the pipeline,” retired Air Marshal Asim Suleiman, who remains briefed on air force deals, told Reuters, adding that the number of JF-17 jets involved was close to 40.
Indonesia‘s President Prabowo Subianto was in Pakistan last month for a two-day visit for talks on improving bilateral ties, including defense.
Indonesia has put in a slew of orders for jets in the past few years, including 42 French Rafale jets worth $8.1 billion in 2022 and 48 KAAN fighter jets from Turkey last year to strengthen its air force and replace its ageing air force fleet.
Jakarta has also considered buying China’s J-10 fighter jets and is in talks to purchase US-made F-15EX jets.
PAKISTAN‘S RISING DEFENCE INDUSTRY
Interest in the Pakistani military’s weapons development program has surged since its jets were deployed in a short conflict with India last year.
The JF-17s have been at the center of that growing attention, figuring in a deal with Azerbaijan and the $4 billion weapons pact with the Libyan National Army.
Pakistan is also eyeing a defense pact with Bangladesh that could include the Super Mushshak training jets and JF-17s, as ties improve with Dhaka.
Reuters has also reported that Islamabad was in talks with Riyadh for a defense deal that could be worth between $2 billion and $4 billion and involves the conversion of Saudi loans into military supplies.
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When a Synagogue Burns in Mississippi, the Jewish Community Is on Trial
Illustrative: The remains of the Adas Israel synagogue in Duluth Minnesota after it was destroyed by fire, September 9, 2019. Photo: screenshot.
It happened again.
On January 10, 2026, the Beth Israel Congregation in Jackson, Mississippi — the only synagogue in the state capital — was deliberately set ablaze. Torah scrolls were destroyed. Offices and sacred spaces were gutted. Services were suspended indefinitely. This was not an accident. This was antisemitism in action. This was an attack on our people, our heritage, and our community.
Beth Israel has stood for more than 160 years as a pillar of Jewish life in Mississippi. Founded in 1860, it became the first synagogue in the state, and the spiritual home of generations of Jewish families in Jackson.
In 1967, during a period of intense resistance to civil rights, members of the Ku Klux Klan bombed the synagogue’s offices and damaged part of its library because its rabbi, Perry Nussbaum, spoke out against racism and stood in solidarity with the broader struggle for justice. Two months later, the same white supremacists bombed Rabbi Nussbaum’s home. The congregation rebuilt, continued its mission of social engagement, and became an enduring symbol of resilience and moral courage. And yet, decades later, Beth Israel faces another deliberate attack — a reminder that anti-Jewish hatred, while once carried out by the KKK, has found a new, resurgent justification in today’s surge of antisemitism.
As Jews and Zionists, we know this is not an isolated incident. It is part of a national epidemic of Jew-hatred that will not be solved by polite statements or fleeting news coverage.
In 2024, the FBI recorded the highest number of hate crimes ever against Jewish Americans — representing nearly 70 percent of all religion-based hate crimes, despite Jews comprising only 2 percent of the population. The Anti-Defamation League documented 9,354 antisemitic incidents nationwide, averaging more than 25 anti-Jewish acts per day — harassment, vandalism, assault, bomb threats, and terroristic intimidation.
These attacks are not abstract. They are assaults on our schools, synagogues, community centers, and public events. In New York City alone, 57 percent of recorded hate crimes were antisemitic, even though Jews make up only 12 percent of the population. These incidents are warnings, not anomalies. They are a call to action for every Jew, every Zionist, every supporter of Jewish life and democratic society.
Too often, violence against Jews is excused, minimized, or reframed as political debate. Let me be clear: anti-Jewish hatred has no justification — not as political protest, not as critique of government policy, and certainly not as legitimate discourse. Calling for the destruction of Jews, attacking Jewish institutions, or celebrating violence against Jews is not activism. It is bigotry. It is terror. And when these acts are treated as “one-offs” by the media and authorities, society begins to normalize Jew-hatred.
Our safety is our responsibility. We cannot wait for others to defend us. As a community, we must rise visibly, vocally, and strategically: speak out against antisemitism; demand law enforcement rigorously enforce hate crime laws; protect our institutions with security and moral support; and refuse to let incidents fade from memory. This is not optional. Silence now is complicity.
History and current events show us the stakes. From attacks on synagogues in France, Germany, and the US, to bomb threats and vandalism across campuses and community centers, Jew-hatred is often excused or rationalized — sometimes internationally, sometimes domestically. We have seen how quickly tolerance for attacks on Jews can lead to broader attacks on democracy itself. When Jewish life is threatened, American society is threatened.
What begins with Jews does not end with Jews. Attacks on Jews are a symptom of democratic decay. We, the inheritors of a legacy of survival, resilience, and moral courage, must respond with strength, unity, and action.
To Jewish Americans: stand unapologetically and visibly.
To Zionists: turn moral outrage into organized action and communal defense.
To all defenders of democracy: recognize that antisemitism is not an isolated problem; it is a crisis of values — and act accordingly.
The fire in Mississippi is not just a warning flare. We will not let it be a signal of defeat. We will rise. We will resist. We will protect. And we will fight forward — unapologetically, visibly, and together. Jewish life, and the principles we defend, depend on it.
Yuval David is an Emmy Award–winning journalist, filmmaker, and actor. An internationally recognized advocate for Jewish and LGBT rights, he is a strategic advisor to diplomatic missions and NGOs, and a contributor to global news outlets in broadcast and print news. He focuses on combating antisemitism, extremism, and promoting democratic values and human dignity. Learn more at YuvalDavid.com, instagram.com/Yuval_David_, x.com/yuvaldavid, youtube.com/yuvaldavid, and across social media.
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From Kanye, to Nick Fuentes and Megyn Kelly: Why J.D. Vance’s Silence Matters Now
US Vice President JD Vance delivers remarks at the Wilshire Federal Building in Los Angeles, California, U.S., June 20, 2025. Phone: REUTERS/Daniel Cole/File Photo
In moments of political stress, the most revealing test of leadership is not rhetoric but refusal: what a leader will not tolerate, what he or she will not excuse, and what they will not leave unnamed.
That is why Vice President J.D. Vance’s persistent failure to confront antisemitism on the populist right must be treated as a primary concern, not a side issue.
In a recent interview with Tucker Carlson, Megyn Kelly spoke approvingly of Nick Fuentes — an openly antisemitic extremist who has praised Hitler, embraced totalitarianism, and argued that Jews should be excluded from American civic life.
Kelly described Fuentes as “very smart” and suggested his ideas had value for the country. Carlson appeared to agree. Within 24 hours of that exchange, Candace Owens reposted Kanye West’s infamous “Death Con 3 on Jewish people” tweet and called it a “vibe.”
This is not fringe behavior leaking into the mainstream. It is the mainstream.
And it is happening inside the political ecosystem that Vice President Vance now helps lead.
Vance’s ties to Carlson are not incidental. Carlson is not merely adjacent to Vance’s politics; he is a close ally, and Vance even employs Carlson’s son. Carlson’s reach — tens of millions of people each week across podcasts, clips, and social platforms — is enormous. That influence now includes the normalization of figures and ideas that were once considered politically radioactive.
That is the context in which Vance’s silence must be judged.
A growing cohort of influential right-wing pundits has adopted a conspiratorial style long associated with antisemitic politics. With Candace Owens as a notable exception, most avoid naming “the Jews” directly, relying instead on euphemisms — “globalists,” shadowy elites, cultural engineers, disloyal insiders. The vocabulary is coded; the architecture is unmistakable.
Carlson has popularized this conspiratorial worldview for millions. Owens has given it its most explicit voice — recycling classic antisemitic libels about Jewish control of finance and media, falsely blaming Jews for the slave trade, attacking Jewish identity itself, and even defending Kanye West’s call for violence against Jews.
Kelly has moved from accommodation to outright normalization, publicly praising Fuentes and treating an admirer of Hitler as a legitimate political voice.
Together, these figures reach tens of millions of Americans across television, YouTube, X, podcasts, and livestreams. Fuentes himself commands a large online following through his “Groyper” network. This is not marginal radicalism. It is mass politics.
Yet from the highest levels of Republican leadership — including the vice presidency — there has been no sustained, unequivocal rejection of these figures or the ideology they propagate.
When asked about antisemitism on the right, Vance has insisted that figures like Tucker Carlson are unfairly maligned and that the Republican “big tent” does not have an antisemitism problem. His framing reduces antisemitism to a vague subset of “extremism,” effectively sidestepping the ideology and its consequences.
The only clear break in Vance’s pattern of evasion proves the rule. When Fuentes grotesquely attacked Vance’s wife on racist grounds, Vance responded clearly and immediately.
But when Jews are targeted, when antisemitic narratives are normalized, and when eliminationist rhetoric spreads through the very coalition that sustains him, the response is silence or deflection. That distinction matters.
Silence Is a Choice and Antisemitism Is Not a Side Issue
No serious political actor is unaware of what is happening. This antisemitism is not subtle. It is rhetorically patterned and widely documented.
We have already seen where this pattern leads. Democratic leaders long ignored antisemitism on the progressive left, laundering it as “anti-Zionism” and activism. It produced exclusion, purity tests, and the quiet normalization of treating mainstream Jewish identity as a problem.
The Democratic Party’s antisemitism problem was not an accident. It was the result of leaders who refused to draw lines early. Some notable Republicans have shown that it is possible to confront this threat directly. Vance, however, appears to be repeating the Democrats’ failure from the right.
Antisemitism does not behave like a policy disagreement that can be managed. It behaves like fire. Once given oxygen, it spreads — from insinuation to justification, from justification to action. Once permitted, it does not remain contained.
And the problem doesn’t just concern Jewish Americans. Antisemitism has always been the earliest warning sign of democratic decay.
Societies do not begin by persecuting everyone. They begin by deciding that one group does not fully belong. Jews have been assigned that role with grim consistency across history.
When antisemitism is normalized — explained, contextualized, ignored — violence follows. Moral barriers erode. Victims are abstracted.
American Jews are seeing those patterns again: campus exclusions, ideological tests, street violence explained away as “context,” and political leaders unwilling to draw lines. This is why antisemitism is not just another culture-war issue. It is a stress test for liberal democracy itself.
Leaders draw boundaries. Through what they name, condemn, or ignore, they signal which ideas corrode civic life and which are allowed to spread.
Vance’s refusal to confront antisemitism — while some figures in his political orbit praise Fuentes and his coalition gives space to rhetoric that threatens Jews — sends a clear message: some forms of hatred are acceptable if they arrive wrapped in populist grievance. There is no neutral ground here. To refuse to draw the line is to move it.
A Moment of Decision
This is not a demand for ideological purity. It is a demand for moral clarity.
Criticizing elites is legitimate. Questioning institutions is healthy. Good-faith debate about America’s relationship with Israel is perfectly valid in a democracy. None of that requires trafficking in conspiratorial antisemitism, excusing it, or pretending not to see it when it appears.
History is unforgiving on this point. Leaders who believed they could harness antisemitism without being consumed by it were always wrong.
J.D. Vance is not a spectator in this moment. He is Vice President of the United States, with power and choice.
If antisemitism continues to metastasize inside the political coalition Vance is helping to build, he will not merely have failed to stop it. He will own part of the cost.
Micha Danzig is an attorney, former IDF soldier, and former NYPD officer. He writes widely on Israel, Zionism, antisemitism, and Jewish history. He serves on the board of Herut North America.