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As Jewish Republicans gather, Ron DeSantis is a star attraction while Donald Trump Zooms in

LAS VEGAS (JTA) — Donald Trump changed his mind and is ready to speak to the Republican Jewish Coalition. What’s not as clear is how ready Jewish Republicans are to hear from him.

As of last week, the group said Trump had cited an undefined “conflict” in turning down an invitation to address its annual convening in Las Vegas. But that was before he announced his bid for another shot at the presidency on Tuesday, making him the first and so far the only nominee to formally do so, and on Thursday the organization said Trump would speak via satellite.

The star of the conference appears to be Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis, who has a prime speaking slot, as opposed to Trump’s less auspicious slot. One influential conference-goer who spoke on the condition of anonymity in order not to be attached to a presidential nominee too early in the process said DeSantis was his favorite going into the weekend. DeSantis, he said, embraced Trump’s policies, but more effectively and with “discipline.”

The conference is taking place, as it has for years, in the Venetian casino resort, until recently owned by Miriam Adelson, the widow of Sheldon Adelson, who was until he died in 2021 a Republican kingmaker; his endorsement of Trump in May 2016 was seen as a sign that the entire GOP was now embracing the one-time outsider.

The conference is an opportunity for candidates to meet with donors who could make or break their campaigns. As it got underway this week, delegates wandered the halls among the slot machines and crap games reconnecting and checking in; former New Jersey Gov. Chris Christie was seen rolling his carry-on bag through the lobby.

Organizers said they expected at least 850 delegates throughout the event (the Saturday night dinner usually attracts more), a bigger number than last year, when travel was still depressed because of the pandemic and there were still three years before the next presidential election.

RJC conferences are often the first stop for likely contenders ahead of presidential election years, which is why Trump made personal appearances in 2015 and again in 2019. This conference is drawing national attention; organizers said they had about 100 RSVPs from the media.

Trump’s speaking slot, crammed in during a crowded Saturday-morning schedule, and his remote participation are signals that relations between Trump and the signature Republican Jewish group, which have blown hot and cold, are in a cooling-off stage. (The only other speaker phoning it in is Israeli Prime Minister-designate Benjamin Netanyahu, who has a government to form in a distant land.)

Trump’s lies about the 2020 election, which he lost to President Joe Biden, and his insistence that his endorsees echo the lies, are seen as a drag on the GOP. Republicans are now openly criticizing him after the Nov. 8 midterms, in which they expected to win the U.S. House of Representatives by a broad margin and retake the Senate, fell flat. Republicans barely retook the House, and the Senate remains in Democratic hands.

DeSantis stood out in those elections for wiping out the Democratic opposition in his state, on a day Republicans fared much more poorly than expected nationwide, losing a slew of statewide elections they thought would be shoo-ins.

DeSantis has the coveted Saturday night slot, sharing it with Nikki Haley, the former ambassador to the United Nations. DeSantis is already making inroads among Jewish conservatives, and from the start of his governorship sought to prove his pro-Israel credentials, leading one early Cabinet meeting from Jerusalem. Haley, who has not yet made clear whether she is running in 2024, is a star for right-leaning pro-Israel groups for helping to shepherd through changes in U.S. and U.N. policy that marginalized Palestinians.

Trump is squeezed among 12 speakers on Saturday morning, a time when folks are expected to keep it short and sweet. Joining him are a number of speakers either not in contention for the presidency — Jewish Republican congressmen David Kustoff of Tennessee, Max Miller of Ohio and George Santos of New York — or long-shots such as South Carolina Sen. Tim Scott and also-rans whom Trump annihilated in 2016, including Christie and Texas Sen. Ted Cruz. (Miller and Santos are freshman Trump endorsees who have embraced Trump’s election denialism; Santos was at the Jan. 6 protests.)

Opening the conference Friday night are four speakers, three of whom have notably separated themselves from Trump: former Vice President Mike Pence, who has said this week that he and Trump no longer speak and that he remains angry at the president for not stopping the angry mob that called for Pence’s death during the deadly Jan. 6, 2001 insurrection; Maryland Gov. Larry Hogan, a consistent opponent of Trump since 2015; and Mike Pompeo, Trump’s secretary of state who has in recent days said Trump’s victim act is getting old. All three are seen as presidential contenders.

The conference is open to the public on Friday and Saturday, But it really started earlier in the week with smaller private meetings between the major Jewish Republican donors and others in the party. Virginia Gov. Glenn Youngkin, who has also distanced himself from Trump, spoke privately with RJC bigwigs on Thursday night.

Trump remains popular in some Jewish conservative circles; he was honored by the Zionist Organization of America earlier this month — an event that he attended in person. Trump executed historic changes in Israel policy, among other things, moving the U.S. embassy to Jerusalem, dropping a commitment to a two-state outcome and quitting the Iran nuclear deal. Biden is keeping the embassy in Jerusalem, but hopes to restore two-state outcome ambitions and reenter the Iran deal.


The post As Jewish Republicans gather, Ron DeSantis is a star attraction while Donald Trump Zooms in appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.

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It was once Sweden’s only news broadcast — what did it say about Israel?

The team behind Israel and Palestine on Swedish TV 1958-1989 bares it all with the title of their documentary. It is, in fact, three and a half hours of footage about the conflict from the Swedish public broadcaster Sveriges Television AB (SVT), stitched together in mostly chronological order.

SVT was founded in 1956 and held a monopoly on news broadcasts in Sweden until the early 90s, when the commercial channel TV4 was launched. The intention behind SVT programs was to present impartial news produced solely by Swedes.

In the two years since the beginning of the current war, there’s been a renewed interest in understanding the history of the Israeli-Palestine conflict. For those well-versed in the region’s history, they likely won’t learn anything new here. For those who don’t know much, it’s a good crash course — if one considers three and a half hours to be succinct.

Sveriges Television AB reporter Vanna Beckman and Ghassan Kanafani. Courtesy of Icarus Films

The film, directed by Göran Hugo Olsson, documents many major developments that happened in Israel during those three decades, including big waves of American immigration in the 60s, economic growth, and, of course, the Six Day and Yom Kippur wars. Although the early footage focuses on Israel’s impressive agricultural projects and the modernization of the country’s major cities, as the years go on, the increasing focus is on the plight of Palestinians in Lebanese refugee camps and the Gaza Strip, as well as political unrest within Israel.

The film opens with the statement that archival material “doesn’t tell us what really happened — but says a lot about how it was told,” so the broader implications of the footage are left up to the viewer’s interpretation. Some may see a welcome, growing awareness of Palestinian suffering. Others may see overly harsh criticisms of Israeli policies that disregard the country’s security issues. With no elaboration or editorializing, it doesn’t feel like the film is helping clarify or challenge the audience’s preconceived notions about the conflict.

And although the footage is Swedish, it’s unclear what, if anything, that lends to the conversation. There is barely anything in the film about Swedish attitudes towards Israel, though we get a peek into diverging viewpoints during a 1964 debate between diplomat Gunnar Häglöff and political scientist Herbert Tingsten about the issue of Palestinian refugees. In a 1968 broadcast, two Swedish journalists question Israeli Deputy Prime Minister Abba Eban about the Israeli government destroying Arab homes. There are also interviews with Swedish soldiers from the United Nations who were stationed at a former railway station on the border between Gaza and Egypt in 1975. They have little to say about the conflict, however, and are more interested in discussing how they can build a sauna, a luxury from home they can’t live without.

Conscripts for obligatory Israeli military service in 1967. Courtesy of Icarus Films

How the Swedish government or its citizens have felt about Israel over the years remains strangely obscured. Whatever impact this footage may have had on Swedish-Israel relations and how these broadcasts were received is never discussed. It’s especially unfortunate that the films offers no way to compare the countries’ past relationship to current diplomatic tensions around Israel’s treatment of activist Greta Thunberg

With the humanitarian crisis in Gaza growing more dire and the future of Israel’s democracy becoming an increasingly pressing issue, one wonders what can be gained from the rehashing of history on view in Israel and Palestine on Swedish TV. The documentary primarily underscores a point most people already understand by now: The situation in Israel and Palestine is complicated. It’s violent. It feels neverending. Most people probably don’t need to watch a three and a half hour documentary to tell them that.

‘Israel and Palestine on Swedish TV 1958-1989’ opens at Film Forum NYC on October 10th.

The post It was once Sweden’s only news broadcast — what did it say about Israel? appeared first on The Forward.

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It was one of klezmer’s greatest days — will there ever be another?

18 years ago, America’s finest and most influential klezmer musicians gathered on the steps of the historic Eldridge Street Synagogue, on Manhattan’s Lower East Side, for a photograph.

The picture was organized by Yale Strom, a violinist and klezmer musician who, having watched ‘A Great Day in Harlem,’ a documentary about Art Kane’s celebrated 1958 shot of America’s best-known jazz musicians, sought to do something similar by assembling those responsible for America’s klezmer revival. Strom called the photo, which was taken by Leo Sorel, ‘A Great Day On Eldridge Street’.

Whereas most of the musicians in Kane’s photograph knew each other, and indeed were friendly, a good few of Strom’s klezmer musicians had never met. “It certainly brought together a lot of people who had never been together at the same place at the same time,” recalled Hankus Netsky, a founding member of the Klezmer Conservatory Band and a central figure in the klezmer revival.

For Strom, this remains the photograph’s abiding achievement. “I accomplished something no one had ever done,” he told me. “And most likely never will.”

Several of the 106 musicians photographed that day have since passed away, including Theodore Bikel, one of the founders of the Newport Folk Festival; Elaine Hoffman Watts, the first female graduate of Philadelphia’s Curtis Institute of Music; and renowned Yiddish poet and songwriter Beyle Schaechter-Gottesman. But American klezmer has continued to grow in popularity, thanks to the contributions of Don Byron, John Zorn, Jake Shulman-Ment, and Pete Rushefsky, among numerous other performers.

‘A Great Day on Eldridge Street’ was partly a celebration of American klezmer’s New York roots, and of the Lower East Side’s historic Eastern European Jewish immigrant community, but since 2007, the klezmer revival, which began in the late 1970s, has taken on an increasingly international character. “There’s a lot more access to international workshops now, and klezmer’s presence in the global music scene is only increasing from year-to-year,” Netsky said.

“The music is larger and more varied,” Strom added. “More sounds, more venues, more academic study, and more global cross-pollination.”

And though the 2007 photo cannot be recreated, it is past time for a sequel, Netsky said — one that honors “the incredible dedication and virtuosity of the younger generation.”

The post It was one of klezmer’s greatest days — will there ever be another? appeared first on The Forward.

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Has the Jewish joke become an endangered species — Òu sont les blagues d’antan?

Is the Jewish joke on the verge of becoming extinct?  The Last Jewish Joke, written by the veteran Parisian sociologist Michel Wieviorka, and newly translated into English by Cory Stockwell, argues that in recent years, Jews began to seem less heimish for at least three reasons: The Holocaust receded from memory; Israel’s government became guilty of actions decried internationally as war crimes; and right-wing antisemites who were always present became more boldly vocal.

Reminiscing about when he heard certain jokes, the author compiles his own consoling self-portrait in an autumnal mood. Wieviorka will be 80 next year, and his prose has a tendency to poignantly deem things as the “last” or at their “end.”

English language readers may need to be reminded that, when Wieviorka alludes to family situations in which he first heard Jewish jokes, it is in the context of his distinguished family of overachievers. His sister Annette is an eminent historian of the Holocaust. Another sister, Sylvie, is a psychiatrist and academic, and a brother, Olivier, is a historian specializing in World War II and the French Resistance. The entire mishpocheh is inspired and motivated by the memory of their paternal grandparents, Polish Jews who were murdered at Auschwitz. Indeed, Annette Wieviorka recently published a “family autobiography,” which asked subtle, eloquent, and nuanced questions about her antecedents.

In a comparable emotional aura of reverence, Wieviorka characterizes Jewish comedy of the past as “never malicious” (though apparently insult comics like Jack E. Leonard, Don Rickles, and Joan Rivers never got the memo).

The notion that joking Jews had to be sympathetic victims to elicit empathy from non-Jewish audiences may be true of some raconteurs, but is also belied by historical examples of potty-mouthed rapscallions like Belle Barth, B. S. Pully (born Murray Lerman) and Joe E. Ross (born Joseph Roszawikz), who startled nightclub audiences of their day with profanity.

Later Jewish shock jocks of the Howard Stern variety likewise chose to surprise, rather than charm, the public as a way to win notoriety. And Larry David’s Curb Your Enthusiasm, far from relying on vulnerable Jews as victims, presented characters screaming putdowns to elicit hilarity.

French sociologist Michel Wieviorka, seen here in 2016, is the author of ‘The Last Jewish Joke.’ Photo by Getty Images

To bolster his arguments, Wieviorka refers to the counterexample of Popeck (born Judka Herpstu), a demure, wry entertainer of Polish and Romanian Jewish origin, who at 90 still appears at French theaters with gentle monologues akin to those of the Danish Jewish wit Victor Borge. Popeck presents himself onstage as a grumpy Eastern-European immigrant speaking Yiddish-accented French.

Wieviorka values such exemplars of rapidly vanishing tradition; as a social scientist, he is convinced that because communal settings such as the Borscht Belt no longer exist, the comics who once flourished on hotel stages in the Catskills have disappeared from memory.

To be sure, American standups like Myron Cohen, Jan Murray, and Carl Ballantine, once familiar from TV variety shows, are rarely mentioned now, though  others like Eddie Cantor are periodically rediscovered by a new public, as Cantor was when he showed up as a character in HBO’s Boardwalk Empire. But in his autobiographical deep dive, Wieviorka, who writes here more as a memoirist than a history of comedy, is naturally more concerned with things that he personally saw or heard, rather than any objective history of Jewish comedians through the ages.

Wieviorka also somewhat curiously refers to the “Yiddish-inflected” comedy of Groucho Marx. Apart from the word “schnorrer” which appears in “Hooray for Captain Spaulding,” a song written by Harry Ruby and Bert Kalmar, it is difficult to think of many other explicit Yiddishisms in Groucho’s verbal elan.

Wieviorka’s anecdotes tend to be hefty and hearty, like a family repast of kreplach that remains in the visceral memory for days after being consumed. Some of the quaintly old fashioned tales he refers to recall the precedent of Sigmund Freud’s The Joke and Its Relation to the Unconscious, a dissection of pleasantries that reflects a sturdy Yekke approach to light-heartedness. Of course, in this optic of Jewish humor, there is no room for concise one-liners from the likes of Henny Youngman or Rodney Dangerfield (born Jacob Cohen). For Wieviorka, as with Freud, brevity was so far from being the soul of wit that it might almost seem non-Jewish.

Another of Wieviorka’s claims appears to conflict with Jewish tradition itself, such as when he states that funny Jews laugh at themselves, never at others, negating the othering of mocked and disdained people in Chelm, a legendary village in Yiddish folklore inhabited by fools who believe themselves to be wise.

To support some of his claims, the author discusses the 1970s French film The Mad Adventures of Rabbi Jacob, a box office success, now somewhat frantic and dated-looking, starring the popular Gallic comedian, Louis de Funès disguised as a rabbi. More to the point, Wieviorka justly reveres the French Jewish comedian Pierre Dac for his still-fascinating wartime broadcasts from London for the Free French forces. Dac’s sense of humor simultaneously expressing Yiddishkeit and also undermining the enemy’s Fascist ideology is a subject that might have intrigued Freud himself.

To bolster the essentially serious messages of his book, Wieviorka mentions the writers Elie Wiesel and André Schwarz-Bart as well as the painter Marc Chagall, names rarely seen in books about humor.

Wieviorka’s elegiac, end-of-an-era tone might be cheered up by a glance at the Netflix streaming schedule or a visit to a comedy club. Of course Jewish humor is thriving, as Wieviorka himself admits; Le Monde headlined a relevant story about the aftermath of the Oct. 7 attacks, “Israeli comedians are boosting morale in wartime.”

So, for all its methodical, highly intellectual analysis, The Last Jewish Joke might be best appreciated as a moving Kaddish for the demise of anecdotes that were once considered the height of drollery. It is very much a product of brainy French Jewish creativity, which itself deserves to be cherished and celebrated.

 

The post Has the Jewish joke become an endangered species — Òu sont les blagues d’antan? appeared first on The Forward.

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