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Alarmed by their country’s political direction, more Israelis are seeking to move abroad
TEL AVIV (JTA) — When Daniel Schleider and his wife, Lior, leave Israel next month, it will be for good — and with a heavy heart.
“I have no doubt I will have tears in my eyes the whole flight.” said Schleider, who was born in Mexico and lived in Israel for a time as a child before returning on his own at 18. Describing himself as “deeply Zionist,” he served in a combat unit in the Israeli army, married an Israeli woman and built a career in an Israeli company.
Yet as Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu returned to power, assembled a coalition that includes far-right parties and started pushing changes that would erode hallmarks of Israeli democracy, Schleider found himself booking plane tickets and locating an apartment in Barcelona. Spain’s language and low cost of living made the city a good fit, he said, but the real attraction was living in a place where he wouldn’t constantly have to face down the ways that Israel is changing.
Israel’s strength over its 75 years, Schleider said, is “the economy we built by selling our brains.… And yet, in less than half a year, we’ve managed to destroy all that.”
Schleider has been joining the sweeping protests that have taken root across the country in response to the new right-wing government and its effort to strip the Israeli judiciary of much of its power and independence. But while he considered recommitting to his country and fighting the changes rather than fleeing over them, he also accepts the government’s argument that most Israelis voted for something he doesn’t believe in.
Daniel Schleider and his wife Lior are leaving Israel for Barcelona because of the political instability in their country. (Courtesy Schleider)
“I have a lot of internal conflict,” he said about the protests. “Who am I to fight against what the majority has accepted?”
Schleider is far from alone in seeking to leave Israel this year. While Israelis have always moved abroad for various reasons, including business opportunities or to gain experience in particular fields, the pace of planned departures appears to be picking up. No longer considered a form of social betrayal, emigration — known in Hebrew as yerida, meaning descent — is on the table for a wide swath of Israelis right now.
Many of the people weighing emigration were already thinking about it but were catalyzed by the new government, according to accounts from dozens of people in various stages of emigration and of organizations that seek to aid them.
“I’ve already been on the fence for a few years — not in terms of leaving Israel but in terms of relocating for something new,” said Schleider.
“But in the past year, with all the craziness and everything, I realized where the country was going. And after the recent elections, my wife — who had been unconvinced — was the one who took the step and said now she understood where the public is going and what life is going to be like in the country. You could call it the straw that broke the camel’s back,” he said.
“And then when the whole issue of the [judicial] revolution started, we just decided not to wait and to do it immediately.”
Ocean Relocation, which assists people with both immigration to and emigration from Israel, has received more than 100 inquiries a day from people looking to leave since Justice Minister Yariv Levin first presented his proposal for judicial reform back in January. That’s four times the rate of inquiries the organization received last year, according to senior manager Shay Obazanek.
“Never in history has there been this level of demand,” Obazanek said, citing the company’s 80 years’ experience as the “barometer” of movement in and out the country.
Shlomit Drenger, who leads Ocean Relocation’s business development, said those looking to leave come from all walks of life. They include families pushed to leave by the political situation; those investing in real estate abroad as a future shelter, if needed; and Israelis who can work remotely and are worried about the country’s upheaval. Economics are also a concern: With foreign investors issuing dire warnings about Israel’s economy if the judicial reforms go through, companies wary to invest in the country and the shekel already weakening, it could grow more expensive to leave in the future.
The most common destination for the new departures, Drenger said, is Europe, representing representing 70% of moves, compared to 40% in the recent past. Europe’s draws include its convenient time zones, quality-of-life indices, and chiefly, the relative ease in recent years of obtaining foreign passports in countries such as Portugal, Poland and even Morocco. Many Israelis have roots in those countries and are or have been entitled to citizenship today because their family members were forced to leave under duress during the Holocaust or the Spanish Inquisition.
Israelis protesting against the government’s controversial judicial reform bill block the main road leading to the departures area of Ben Gurion Airport near Tel Aviv on March 9, 2023. (Ahmad Gharabli/AFP via Getty Images)
On the other hand, Drenger said, emigration to the United States, where the vast majority of the 1 million Israeli citizens abroad live, has declined significantly. The United States is known for its tough immigration laws and high cost of living in areas with large Israeli and Jewish communities, and even people who have no rights to a foreign passport have an easier time obtaining residency rights in Europe than the United States.
Some Israelis aren’t picking anywhere in particular before leaving. Ofer Stern, 40, quit his job as a tech developer, left Israel and is now traveling around the world before deciding where to settle.
“We’re living in a democracy and that democracy is dependent on demography and I can’t fight it,” he said, alluding to the fact that Orthodox Jews, who tend to be right wing, are the fastest-growing segment of the Israeli population. “The country that I love and that I’ve always loved will not be here in 10 years. Instead, it will be a country that is suited to other people, but not for me.”
While others have already started their emigration process, American-born Marni Mandell, a mother of two living in Tel Aviv, is still on the fence. Her greatest fear is that judicial reforms could open the door to significant changes in civil rights protections — and in so doing break her contract with the country she chose.
“If this so-called ‘reform’ is enacted, which is really tantamount to a coup, it’s hard to imagine that I want my children to grow up to fight in an army whose particularism outweighs the basic human rights that are so fundamental to my values,” Mandell said.
Most people who look into emigrating for political reasons do not end up doing so. In the weeks leading up to the United States’ 2020 presidential election, inquiries to law firms specializing in helping Americans move abroad saw a sharp uptick in inquiries — many of them from Jews fearful about a second Trump administration after then-President Donald Trump declined to unequivocally condemn white supremacists. When President Joe Biden was elected, they largely called off the alarm.
The Trump scenario is not analogous with the Israeli one for several reasons, starting with the fact that the Israelis are responding to an elected government’s policy decisions, not just the prospect of an election result. What’s more, U.S. law contains safeguards designed to prevent any single party or leader from gaining absolute power. Israel has fewer of those safeguards, and many of those appear threatened if the government’s proposals go through.
Casandra Larenas had long courted the idea of moving overseas. “As a childfree person, Israel doesn’t have much to offer and is a really expensive country. I’ve traveled around so I know the quality of life I can reach abroad,” she said. But she said she had always batted away the idea: “I’m still Jewish and my family are still here.”
Clockwise from upper left: Benjamin-Michael Aronov, Casandra Larenas and Ofer Stern are all leaving Israel because of political unrest there. (All photos courtesy)
That all changed with the judicial overhaul, she said. While not against the idea of a reform per se, Laranes is firmly opposed to the way it is being carried out, saying it totally disregards the millions of people on the other side. Chilean-born, Laranes grew up under Augusto Pinochet’s military dictatorship.
“I still remember [it] and I don’t want something like that again,” said Larenas, who has purchased a plane ticket for later this spring and plans to take up residency abroad — though she said she would maintain her citizenship and hoped to return one day.
The departure of liberal and moderate Israelis could have implications on Israel’s political future. Israel does not permit its citizens to vote absentee, meaning that anyone who leaves the country must incur costly, potentially frequent travel to participate in elections — or cede political input altogether.
Benjamin-Michael Aronov, who grew up with Russian parents in the United States, said he was taken aback by how frequently Israelis express shock that he moved to Israel in the first place. “The No. 1 question I get from Israelis is, ‘Why would you move here from the U.S.? We’re all trying to get out of here. There’s no future here.’”
He said he had come to realize that they were right.
“I thought the warnings were something that would truly impact our children or grandchildren but that our lifetime would be spent in an Israeli high-tech, secular golden era. But I’m realizing the longevity of Tel Aviv’s bubble of beaches and parties and crazy-smart, secular people changing the world with technology is maybe even more a fantasy now than when Herzl dreamt it,” Aronov said. “I found my perfect home, a Jewish home, sadly being undone by Jews.”
Not everyone choosing to jump ship is ideologically aligned with the protest movement. Amir Cohen, who asked to use a pseudonym because he has not informed his employers of his plans yet, is a computer science lecturer at Ariel University in the West Bank who voted in the last election for the Otzma Yehudit party chaired by far-right provocateur Itamar Ben-Gvir. Cohen was willing to put aside his ideological differences with the hared Orthodox parties if it meant achieving political stability — but was soon disillusioned.
“None of it is working. And now we’re on our way to civil war, it’s that simple. I figured, ‘I don’t need this nonsense, there are plenty of places in the world for me to go,’” he said.
Thousands of Israeli protesters rally against the Israeli goverment’s judicial overhaul bills in Tel Aviv, March 4, 2023. (Gili Yaari Flash90)
Cohen stuck with the country after one of his brothers was killed in the 2014 Gaza War. Now, he said, his other brothers have recently followed his lead and applied for Hungarian passports in an effort to find a way to move abroad permanently.
“I’m not alone,” he said. “Most of my friends and family feel the same way.”
Others still, like Omer Mizrahi, view themselves as apolitical. A contractor from Jerusalem, Mizrahi, 27, headed to San Diego, California, a month ago as a result of the reform. Mizrahi, who eschewed casting a vote in the last election, expressed a less common impetus for leaving: actual fear for his life. Mizrahi described sitting in traffic jams in Jerusalem and realizing that if a terror attack were to unfold — “and let’s be honest, there are at least one or two every week” — he wouldn’t be able to escape in time because he was caught in a gridlock. “Our politicians can’t do anything about it because they’re too embroiled in a war of egos.”
Now 7,500 miles away, Mizrahi says he feels like he’s finally living life. “I sit in traffic now and I’m happy as a clam. Everything’s calm.”
Back in Israel, Schleider is making his final preparations for leaving, advertising his Tesla for sale on Facebook this week. He remains hopeful that the massive anti-government protests will make a difference. In the meantime, though, his one-way ticket is scheduled for April 14.
“I dream of coming back, but I don’t know that it will ever happen,” he said. “We made a decision that was self-serving, but that doesn’t mean we’re any less Zionist.”
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The post Alarmed by their country’s political direction, more Israelis are seeking to move abroad appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Cantorial music movingly sung by women, at this event in Indiana
אויף איין טאָג איז דאָס שטעטל בלומינגטאָן — אַן אוניווערסיטעט־שטאָט אין ווײַטער אינדיאַנע — געוואָרן אַ צענטער פֿון נײַער און טראַדיציאָנעלער ייִדישער מוזיק.
דעם 11טן אָקטאָבער איז פֿאָרגעקומען אַ גאַנצע ריי פּראָגראַמען געווידמעט דער מיזרח־אייראָפּעיִשער ייִדישער קולטור. די פּראָגראַם, „זכּרון פֿאַרוואַנדלט“ (Memory Transformed), האָט אַרײַנגענומען אַן אַקאַדעמישן סימפּאָזיום, אַ קונסט־אויסשטעלונג און אַ קאָנצערט פֿון הײַנטצײַטיקער ייִדישער מוזיק. ס׳איז געקומען אַ גרויסער עולם: סײַ סטודענטן און פּראָפֿעסאָרן פֿון אוניווערסיטעט, סײַ ייִדן און נישט־ייִדן פֿון דער געגנט.
די רײַכע פּראָגראַם איז פֿאָרגעקומען אין בלומינגטאָן, דער עיקר, אַ דאַנק ירמיהו לאָקוווּד, דעם באַקאַנטן מוזיקער, היסטאָריקער און מוזיקאָלאָג, וואָס איז אויך אַ גאַסט־פּראָפֿעסאָר פֿון ייִדישע לימודים אין אינדיאַנער אוניווערסיטעט. לאָקוווּד האָט זיך באַטייליקט סײַ אינעם סימפּאָזיום סײַ אין דעם קאָנצערט. ער איז אויפֿגעטראָטן מיט זײַן קאַפּעליע, The Sway Machinery, מיט וועמען ער שפּילט שוין די לעצטע צוואָנציק יאָר.
כאָטש לאָקוווּדס אייגענע מוזיק איז מאָדערן, פֿאָרשט ער דווקא אַ מער טראַדיציאָנעלן ייִדישן זשאַנער: דאָס חזנות. בעת אַ שמועס מיט מיר האָט ער געזאָגט, אַז ער האַלט דאָס חזנות פֿאַרן עיקר און נשמה פֿון דער ייִדישער מוזיק. זײַן ערשט בוך, „גאָלדענע עפּאָכעס“ (2024) באַהאַנדלט די הײַנטיקע חסידישע זינגער, וואָס באַנײַען דעם סטיל חזנות פֿון אַלטע צײַטן. איצט אַרבעט ער אויף אַ צווייט בוך, וואָס זאָל דערציילן די געשיכטע פֿון חזנות ביזן הײַנטיקן טאָג.
לאָקוווּד פֿאָרשט ספּעציעל די אַלטע פּלאַטעס פֿון אָנהייב 20סטן יאָרהונדערט. חזנות איז אַ מאָל געווען געוואַלדיק פּאָפּולער, ווײַל דער פֿאָנאָגראַף האָט אַרײַנגעברענגט די הייליקע מוזיק אַפֿילו אין וועלטלעכע ייִדישע היימען.
אויפֿן סימפּאָזיום האָט אויך גערעדט אַן אַנדער מומחה פֿון חזנות, ד״ר יהודית בערקסאָן, אַ פֿאָרשערין און פּראָפֿעסיאָנעלע חזנטע אין לאָס־אַנדזשעלעס. זי האָט גערעדט וועגן דעם אימפּראָוויזירטן אַספּעקט פֿון חזנות, וואָס איז אַ מאָל געווען גאָר וויכטיק. הײַנט זינגען חזנים געוויינטלעך לויט די נאָטן, ווײַל זיי זענען גוט טרענירט אין דער קלאַסישער מערבֿדיקער מוזיק־טראַדיציע. אָבער דאָס אַמאָליקע חזנות איז געווען אַ געמיש פֿון מערבֿדיק און מיזרחדיק, מיט אַ סך אימפּראָוויזאַציע — אַ ביסל ווי דזשעז־מוזיק. דער חזן האָט קיין מאָל נישט געזונגען דאָס זעלבע שטיקל אויף פּונקט דעם זעלביקן אופֿן. יעדע זאַך איז געווען אָריגינעל.
בערקסאָן האָט אויך גערעדט וועגן די פּריוואַטע, קאָנטראַבאַנדישע רעקאָרדירונגען, וואָס געוויסע ליבהאָבערס פֿון חזנות פֿלעגן מאַכן בסוד. זיי האָבן אַרײַנגעשמוגלט אַ רעקאָרדיר־אַפּאַראַט אין אַ תּלית־בײַטל אָדער אונטערן מאַנטל און רעקאָרדירט דעם חזן, אַפֿילו ווען מע טאָר נישט, שבת אָדער יום־טובֿ. די אָ ייִדן זענען געווען גרייט צו ריזיקירן מיט דער אייגענער נשמה, אַבי צו פֿאַרמאָגן דאָס געזאַנג פֿון זייער באַליבטן חזן. אויף אַזעלכע רעקאָרדירונגען הערט מען אָפֿט אַ סך אימפּראָוויזאַציעס.
אויפֿן סימפּאָזיום האָט אויך גערעדט דער היגער ייִדיש־פּראָפֿעסאָר, דובֿ־בער קערלער. ער האָט דערציילט וועגן ייִדישע לידער, וואָס דער עולם האַלט זיי אָפֿט פֿאַר אַלטע פֿאָלקסלידער, כאָטש אין דער אמתן זענען די מחברים גוט באַקאַנט. למשל, „דער רבי אלימלך“ האָט געשריבן און קאָמפּאָנירט דער פּאָעט משה נאַדיר (יצחק רײַז), וואָס האָט געוווינט אין ניו־יאָרק. אַ סך פֿון די פּאָפּולערסטע לידער אונדזערע שטאַמען באמת פֿון אַמעריקע, נישט פֿון מיזרח־אייראָפּע.
לאָקוווּדס מוזיק מיט זײַן קאַפּעליע איז אַ יחיד־במינו, אַ געמיש פֿון עטלעכע מוזיקאַלישע זשאַנערס און סטילן: חזנות, ראָק, פֿאָנק, בלוז. באמת זענען זיי אַ מאָדערנע „אינדי“־ראָק־קאַפּעליע, וואָס זינגט תּפֿילות אויף לשון־קודש. עס איז טשיקאַווע צו הערן פֿאַרכאַפּנדיקע לידער מיט אַזאַ ריטעם און קלאַנג, אַז עס ווילט זיך טאַנצן, און זען, אַז די ווערטער האָבן אָנגעשריבן רבנים מיט הונדערטער יאָרן צוריק. אויפֿן קאָנצערט, למשל, האָבן זיי געשפּילט „אָדם יסודו“, אַ טייל פֿונעם פּיוט „ונתנה תּוקף“, וואָס ייִדן זאָגן ראָש־השנה. דאָס שטאַמט לויט דער מסורה פֿון הרבֿ אַמנון פֿון מײַנץ אין 11טן י״ה.
נאָך דעם איז אויפֿגעטראָטן אַ צווייטע גרופּע: „די אומשטאַרביקע חזנטעס“, וואָס באַשטייט פֿון עטלעכע פֿון די בעסטע חזנטעס פֿון אונדזער דור: יהודית בערקסאָן אַליין, רחל וועסטאָן, שאַהאַנאַ מעקיני־באַלדאָן און ריקי רויז. זיי האָבן געזונגען קלאַסישע תּפֿילות פֿונעם אַלטן רעפּערטואַר פֿון די גרויסע חזנים און חזנטעס פֿון אַ מאָל: „אַחינו“, „רצה במנוחתינו“, און „שׂים שלום“. די ווירטואָזקייט פֿון די חזנטעס האָט געמאַכט אַ געוואַלדיקן רושם אויף מיר און איך בין זיכער אויך אויף די אַנדערע.
איין ליד איו געווען טיילווײַז אויף ייִדיש: „איך בענק אַהיים“, געזונגען פֿון רחל וועסטאָן, וואָס איז באַקאַנט פֿון אַן אַלטער רעקאָרדירונג פֿון דער משפּחה מאַלאַווסקי, מיט דער באַקאַנטער חזנטע גאָלדי מאַלאַווסקי. הערנדיק דאָס ליד האָט דער עולם מסתּמא דערפֿילט, ווי איך אַליין, אַ בענקשאַפֿט נאָך דער אַלטער היים אין מיזרח־אייראָפּע, און נאָך דער אַמאָליקער ניו־יאָרק, וווּ חזנות און ייִדיש האָבן געלעבט אויף אַ ברייטן פֿאַרנעם.
The post Cantorial music movingly sung by women, at this event in Indiana appeared first on The Forward.
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Why this Zionist Israeli is running with an Islamist party
(JTA) — KIBBUTZ EIN HAHORESH, Israel – He’s been called a “terror supporter” and a “traitor,” and even accused of devious steps to enable Islamists to “infiltrate” Israel’s next government. But Yoav Segalovitz, the Jewish parliamentarian who recently broke strict taboos by teaming up with an Arab Islamist party, is unperturbed.
“There are always crazy people, and it doesn’t matter what they say on television; I think when you’ve chosen your path, you just have to ignore it all,” he said in a recent interview with the Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
It has been just over a month since Segalovitz, 67, a veteran member of Israel’s parliament, the Knesset, made his unprecedented decision to leave the centrist Yesh Atid party for Ra’am, an Arab-Israeli party with roots in the Muslim Brotherhood, in the hopes of bridging the gap between Jews and Arabs in Israel.
“Are all the old patterns going to change in the coming month? Absolutely not,” Segalovitz, a former deputy minister for public security and a former police investigator, said. “But I’m thinking long term, not just about these particular elections. From my perspective, this is a long-term story. It’s not about the here and now.”
At a recent campaign event in the well-worn communal dining room of Kibbutz Ein Hahoresh, an agricultural community in the Emek Hefer region of central Israel, Segalovitz explained to a group of around 80 Jewish voters why he made the radical decision as a self-declared Zionist to team up with an Islamist party.
“I wanted to have an impact,” he said, describing how he knew it would somehow be related to the Arab community in Israel that makes up around 21% of the total population.
“I knew I wanted to break down the paradigms that exist; I wanted to cross the bridge; the only question was how I could do this,” Segalovitz said, speaking to the small crowd of kibbutz members and residents of the surrounding communities.
Microphone in hand, the neatly dressed former police officer described how, when tensions were high and societal divisions deeper than ever during the final days of the previous Knesset, he asked himself how he could make a meaningful difference in Israeli society.
Segalovitz said that at first he considered creating a brand new joint Israeli-Arab party. But he quickly realized that he could make greater change by joining forces with Ra’am, an Arab party whose leader, Mansour Abbas, is already known for his own paradigm-breaking political moves.
Abbas, a deeply religious conservative Muslim who, in his own words, identifies as a Palestinian citizen of Israel, was the first Arab party leader to join an Israeli government, breaking deep-rooted taboos in his own community. In 2021, his bold move to join former prime ministers Naftali Bennett and Yair Lapid in a ruling coalition helped to briefly oust Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu from power.
While the move signaled an unprecedented shift in Israeli politics, it was also fraught with tension and ultimately proved to be deeply unpopular with much of the Israeli public and some in the Arab community. Ultimately, Ra’am’s inclusion in the Bennett-Lapid government was one of the factors that led to its rapid downfall.
If including an Arab party in the government was controversial before Hamas’ attacks on Oct. 7, 2023, today it is close to unthinkable. In the run-up to the Oct. 27 election, most predominantly Jewish parties have avoided saying publicly that they would consider including Ra’am, or any other Arab party, in a future coalition. And, beyond Ra’am, the other Arab party – the Joint List – remains emphatically against any such alliance.
But recent polls suggest that bringing Arab parties into a governing alliance could be the only way to secure the parliamentary majority needed to form a new government. With Segalovitz now running on Ra’am’s list, such a prospect may be slightly more realistic.
However, the challenges of reaching such an arrangement were evident at the recent Kibbutz Ein Hahoresh meeting.
An aging audience of casually dressed kibbutzniks sauntered into the sparse hall curious to hear Segalovitz’s story. They gave him a warm and polite reception, and grilled him with questions after listening to him speak. But most said they were not swayed to vote for him.
“He’s very brave for doing what he did,” said Elie Aloni, 80, a resident of nearby Beit Herut. But she continued to say that she would not vote for Ra’am because she’s already committed to the left-wing Democrats Party.
Aloni said her party’s leader, Yair Golan, had already stated that he wanted to see Ra’am join the government, and she hoped that would happen. She was also hopeful that having an Israeli Jew on Ra’am’s list would make it easier for the party to be included in the next coalition.
But she acknowledged that, after Oct. 7, including Arab parties in a government could prove difficult.
“I’m a peace activist, but even I have become disillusioned,” she said. “After Oct. 7, it has become more difficult to trust the Arabs. But they are not going to disappear, and neither are we.”
Segalovitz knows that his support is unlikely to come from Jewish voters. Instead, he has been focusing on reaching the Arab community and encouraging them to exercise their democratic rights.
Since joining Ra’am in early September, he has traveled around the country to address Arabic-speaking audiences – Muslims, Christians and Druze – about why he joined the party and what he hopes to achieve. The meetings are conducted in Hebrew because, as he admits, he does not speak a word of Arabic.
Segalovitz told JTA that despite the cold reception, including some outright attacks, from Israeli Jews, the Arab community has overwhelmingly embraced him – even though there is some skepticism.
Michael Milshtein, head of the Palestinian Studies Forum at the Moshe Dayan Center at Tel Aviv University, who has researched political trends in Israel’s Arab community for years, called Segalovitz’s decision to join Ra’am “pioneering.”
However, he noted that the Jewish MK has also faced attacks from within the Arab community from those who struggle to accept an openly Zionist Israeli joining their political ranks.
Although there are some Jewish Israeli members of Arab parties, namely the communist-leaning Hadash, they often identify as anti-Zionist. Segalovitz’s arrangement with Abbas is slightly different. He has not formally joined the Islamist party but rather forged an agreement whereby he will retain the freedom to vote independently on issues including religion and state, national security and LGBTQ rights.
“His move is revolutionary; he is not a post-Zionist or an anti-Zionist like some Jewish members of Hadash,” Milshtein said. “He [Segalovitz] is creating connections with a traditional religious party and it’s just bizarre.”
Segalovitz’s presence in Ra’am, which emerged from the southern branch of the Islamic Movement in Israel, historically linked to the Muslim Brotherhood, has also prompted questions across the Arab world about how Abbas can continue to be associated with the movement that also includes more extreme groups such as Hamas, Milshtein said.
But Milshtein said the two men were “pioneering” in much the same way.
“It’s kind of a mirror: Mansour breaks all kinds of taboos, and so does Segalovitz,” he said, adding that many Jews respected Segalovitz, and even supported his decision, “even if they won’t end up voting for him.”
Ra’am’s changes started in the 1990s when Israel’s Islamic Movement split into two, enabling the southern branch, the political home of Ra’am, to seek political engagement with state institutions as a way to make changes within the community. Abbas’s ascent to the leadership brought Ra’am’s current goals into even sharper focus.
Abbas, 52, a dentist by training, succeeded in breaking the party’s organizational ties with the religious leadership, allowing it to work even more harmoniously with institutions in Israel and focus on improving life for the country’s Arab citizens.
At this point in Ra’am’s history, Segalovitz’s arrival could be a significant political asset. The party’s focus is on improving life for Israel’s Arab community, and Segalovitz brings experience tackling violent and organized crime, one of the sector’s most pressing concerns.
As head of the Israel Police’s Investigations Unit from 2009 to 2013, and as deputy public security minister from 2021 to 2022, Segalovitz focused on violent crime. As deputy minister, he headed a government program aimed at addressing violent crime, successfully reducing homicides in the Arab sector by some 16%, the lowest level since 2014.
After Netanyahu’s return to office in 2022, Segalovitz’s program was scrapped. Since then, the murder rate has soared, with organized crime reaching beyond the Arab community. According to statistics compiled by the Abraham Initiatives, the number of murders in the Arab sector more than doubled between 2022 and 2025, rising from 116 to 252.
“Today, Israel has similar crime rates to those in South American countries,” said Segalovitz, referring to the organized crime that has been surging in the Arab community. He pointed the finger at Netanyahu and his government for failing to address deeper social and economic problems in Arab society.
Segalovitz is also a firm believer in some type of national community service for the Arab sector, akin to the mandatory military service most Jewish Israelis must undertake.
“Arabs make up 21% of Israel’s population,” Segalovitz said. “They are involved in every area of daily life in Israel, in medicine, economics, education and more. We live together with one another, and we need to decide how to manage a future partnership.”
“Our future does not allow us not to work in partnership with each other,” he said. “We have partnerships in all areas of life, except in politics.”
While running with Ra’am is his way of trying to change that, Segalovitz is under no illusion that his efforts will translate into votes. Instead, he sees his candidacy as a small first step toward a longer-term shift in Israeli politics.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post Why this Zionist Israeli is running with an Islamist party appeared first on The Forward.
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From Holocaust survivor to Nazi hunter to Entebbe hero
(JTA) — When Boaz Dvir flew from the United States to Israel in late September to screen his new film, “To Kill a Nazi,” he didn’t expect its story to become newly relevant. But just as Dvir arrived, the thwarting of an apparent hijacking of a flydubai flight bound for Israel offered an uncanny echo of the history his film recounts.
The film tells the largely overlooked story of Michel Cojot, a French Jewish Holocaust survivor and Nazi hunter who helped fellow hostages during the Entebbe hostage crisis and later provided intelligence that aided the Israeli rescue mission. For Dvir, the timing was striking.
“As I’m driving around, what do I hear?” he told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. “Somebody tried to hijack a plane from Dubai to Israel and do a 9/11 type of terrorist attack? And the passengers saved the day? Ordinary guys?
“And of course, people brought it up everywhere I went, because the parallels are uncanny.”
Michel Goldberg was born in Paris in 1938. After the Nazis invaded, his father Joseph Goldberg was captured and sent to Auschwitz, where he was killed. According to his 1982 memoir “Namesake,” Michel was raised in France’s so-called “free zone,” which the Nazis would also occupy starting in 1942, and took his last name from his stepfather after his mother remarried.
Growing up to become a successful banker, Michel teamed with the famed Nazi-hunting couple Beate and Serge Klarsfeld and in 1975, while working in South America, embarked on a plot to find and kill Klaus Barbie, the Gestapo commander who had signed the arrest papers for Cojot’s father, and who was at that point hiding out in Bolivia.
Posing as a journalist, an armed Cojot met the “Butcher of Lyon,” but given the opportunity, Cojot failed to pull the trigger. In his memoir he writes that Barbie instead deserved to live in constant fear of reprisal, and that murder was a “Nazi” solution.
The year after his mission to Bolivia, Cojot and his son were on the fateful Air France flight that, bound from Tel Aviv to France, was hijacked by Palestinian terrorists and West German far-left radicals, with 102 Israelis on board. It led to the standoff at Entebbe International Airport in Uganda and the heroic rescue by Israeli commandos.
During the seven-day crisis, Cojot acted as a translator and go-between among the hijackers and passengers. When the Ugandan dictator Idi Amin spoke to the hostages, Cojot translated his English into French. He was even credited with persuading the lead hijacker, Wilfried Böse, to release the non-Israeli hostages. After his release, Cojot provided information to Mossad, including the layout of where the hostages were being held, which greatly assisted the Operation Thunderbolt rescue mission.
Cojot went on to write a book about Barbie’s crimes, and then testified in Barbie’s war crimes trial in the late 1980s. Barbie was sentenced to life in prison; he died of cancer in 1991. Cojot himself passed away in 1999. While the story of Entebbe is very well-known, Cojot’s role in it has often been left out of such tellings. None of the feature films about the rescue, most recently 2018’s “7 Days in Entebbe,” include him as a major character.
Divir hopes to give the forgotten hero the recognition he deserves. The grandson of Holocaust survivors who was born in Petah Tikva a few weeks after the Six-Day War in 1967, the filmmaker remembers the weeklong Entebbe crisis. He was nine years old then.
“I was like most Israeli kids at the time, outside most of the day and playing,” Dvir said. “But my brother and I, who was a year younger, decided that in solidarity with the hostages, we’re gonna ground ourselves, and so we did for that whole week.”
At the end of the week, he remembers his father waking him up and telling him, “The IDF did it.”
“We knew immediately what he meant, and of course we were thrilled for everybody, the released hostages, the military, but we’re also happy to be able to go outside again,” said Dvir.
While histories of the Entebbe affair omitted the actions of Michel Cojot, another Frenchman, pilot Michel Bacos, has often been recognized as a hero of the affair for having refused to be freed in the first release of the hostages. Most obituaries of Bacos, who died in 2019 at age 95, included this.
In fact, Dvir originally planned to make a documentary about Bacos. However, his research, including an interview with Bacos himself, led Dvir, a journalist and journalism professor at Penn State, to doubt Bacos’ version of the events.
But those former hostages kept mentioning another Michel, a genuine hero. “The story that I knew so well, Operation Thunderbolt, that I grew up with, now suddenly took on a whole new meaning,” Dvir said.
The film includes interviews with all four of Cojot’s children, including his son Olivier, who was with him in Entebbe, along with hostages and experts; Cojot himself appears in archival footage.
Dvir also composed the film’s music, which Penn State musicians perform on the soundtrack.
Dvir worked on the project for nearly a decade, even presenting it publicly as a work in progress as early as 2018.
“This project took a lot longer than most of my projects,” the director said.
A familiar voice narrates the film: Jason Alexander, the Jewish actor best known for “Seinfeld.” Dvir’s manager and business partner is a friend of Alexander’s, who agreed to narrate after viewing a rough cut.
“To Kill a Nazi” premiered at the Dances With Films festival in June. It has also screened at the Nashville Jewish Film Festival and the Croatian International Film Festival, and premiered in New York City on Oct. 16 at Regal Battery Park as part of the Chelsea Film Festival.
It’s also set to play the Austin Film Festival at the Boulder Jewish Film Festival, and the Silicon Valley Jewish Film Festival on Oct. 29; at the Galaxy Theatre in Austin, Texas on Oct. 31; and at the Harrisburg Jewish Film Festival on Nov. 12. Dvir hopes it will be picked up by a streaming service.
Some Jewish and Israeli filmmakers, especially since Oct. 7, have complained that they’ve had difficulty getting their films into festivals.
Dvir said that while “To Kill a Nazi” is “doing very, very well” and has been accepted to film festivals both Jewish and non-Jewish, “it’s been a little more of an effort than I’m used to putting in.”
“I don’t have any proof for it, but my sense is that there are some film festivals to which we submitted that may not have even really watched it or given it a fair shot,” said Dvir, who denounced the apparent boycotts of other films and artists. “At the end of the day, it really doesn’t matter. Because we can only do so many film festivals anyway. I’m very happy with what we got.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post From Holocaust survivor to Nazi hunter to Entebbe hero appeared first on The Forward.
