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Dramatic stories of survival, endurance and escape reign as Ukrainian Jews mark 1 year of war

(JTA) — Most of the passengers on the flight from Chisinua, Moldova, to Tel Aviv earlier this month were subdued.

Some had just witnessed scene after scene of hardship on a tour of war-torn Ukraine organized by the International Fellowship of Christians and Jews. Others, about 90 in all, were Ukrainians in the process of moving permanently to Israel, talking in hushed tones about being on a plane for the first time, their uncertain future and the loved ones they left behind.

Alexei Shkurat was not subdued.

Bespectacled and bearded, he was standing in his seat, making wisecracks that caused the elderly woman in the seat next to him to guffaw despite herself.

“I like joking and communicating. It’s my life, why waste it being nervous?” Shkurat told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency in English.

“And anyway, I’m happy, happy, happy I will soon see my sons again,” he added.

Switching to Russian, Shkurat’s brow furrowed and his voice lowered when he recounted how, on Feb. 28, 2022, he had risked his life to transport his sons, 14 and 12, to the border with Poland with their mother and grandmother. From there they would move to Israel.

Shkurat could not go with them. The borders were closed for military-aged men, so Shkurat was forced to drive back to his hometown of Odessa. What happened next, as he recounts it, was harrowing: As he passed an empty field near Lviv, he encountered two Ukrainian soldiers, their AK-74 rifles trained on him. Shkurat raised his hands and was told to step out of his vehicle. He knew that if he made one false move, he would be shot.

The soldiers searched the car and interrogated him, asking him why he was traveling alone after curfew and even asking if he was a Russian spy. Shkurat later learned that 40 Russian paratroopers had recently landed in the area and had stolen ambulances and police cars. He answered the soldiers in Russian, which only raised their suspicions. Ukrainian is the dominant language in western Ukraine, but as a Jew from Odessa, Shkurat’s native tongue is Russian.

“I was terrified. I know that they were only doing their job, but the situation was so scary. Everything I ever knew in life had changed,” he said.

Catch up on all of JTA’s coverage of the Ukraine War here.

By a considerable stroke of luck, Shkurat, a street artist, was able to prove his identity by showing the soldiers his Instagram page, filled with posts of his art in locations all over Odessa.

But according to Shkurat, the story was far from over. The next chapter of his life was far more hair-raising, he said. Pressed on the details, Shkurat grinned and switched back to English.

“I can’t tell you a thing,” he said. “I want to sell the story to Netflix.”

Whatever cinematic experience Shkurat might have had, his fellow passengers surely had made-for-the-movies stories of their own. They had made it through nearly a year of war before deciding to move to Israel, making them the latest of 5,000 new immigrants from Ukraine facilitated by the International Fellowship of Christians and Jews, working in collaboration with Israeli government entities such as Nativ and the Ministry of Aliyah and Integration. Approximately 15,000 Ukrainians in total have immigrated, or made aliyah, in the last year.

Ukrainian Jewish refugees who fled the war in their country wait on a bus upon arrival at Ben Gurion Airport near Tel Aviv, on an airlift of medically needy passengers made possible by the International Fellowship of Christians and Jews, Dec. 22, 2022. (Gil Cohen-Magen/AFP via Getty Images)

According to the group’s vice president, Gidi Schmerling, if there is any upside to the war from Israel’s perspective, it’s that many middle-class Ukrainians — doctors, engineers and high-tech employees — who wouldn’t have otherwise made aliyah are now choosing to do so.

But IFCJ’s mandate also includes the Jews who stayed behind. Since Russian tanks first rumbled across the border a year ago, the group has raised more than $30 million dollars — primarily from evangelical Christians from North America and Korea — for the main Jewish organizations in Ukraine including the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, or JDC, and Chabad. (Both groups do extensive fundraising of their own.) This week, the anniversary of Russia’s invasion, it announced another $4 million in planned spending.

In Odessa, more than 7,000 people currently receive aid from IFJC via local Jewish groups. The Jewish community, once 50,000 strong, now stands at 20,000, according to the city’s chief rabbi, Avraham Wolff. Seven thousand food packages are distributed every month in Chabad centers. Many of the beneficiaries are older — among them some 187 Holocaust survivors — but not all. Several hundred are people who were displaced from surrounding cities, such as Mykolaiv, which was hit much harder by Russian shells, and some are the so-called new poor, those for whom the war has plunged into poverty from loss of income and rising inflation.

Ala Yakov Livne, an 86-year-old widow, is one of many who lined up recently to receive a box with oil, flour and other basic necessities. For Livne, the part that stings most about the last year is the sense of betrayal.

“[The Russians] were our neighbors. Many of them were our friends,” she said.

“Times have changed but some things never change,” Livne went on. “Back then, we were under occupation under the Nazis, back then, they tried to kill us, and now again, we are under occupation and they are trying to destroy us.”

Yelena Kuklova survived the Holocaust by being hidden by non-Jewish neighbors. “We started our lives in war and we’re finishing them in war,” she said. (Deborah Danan)

It was a refrain that would be repeated several times over the ensuing days. In a trembling voice, 85-year-old Holocaust survivor Yelena Kuklova, who as a child was hidden by her non-Jewish neighbors in a suitcase in a closet, echoed the sentiment.

“They killed us then because we were Jews. They are killing us today because we are Ukrainian,” she said, a slow cascade of tears spilling over her cheekbones. “We started our lives in war and we’re finishing them in war.”

And so it was in battle-scarred Mykolaiv, 140 kilometers northeast of Odessa. “What the Germans never managed to do, the Russians did,” said Eli Ben Mendel Hopstein, standing in front of his building, pockmarked from the shrapnel of a Russian missile.

Inside his home, Hopstein rifled through decades-old photos of himself in the navy. “I know danger,” he said, “and I don’t feel it now.” He describes himself as a proud Jew. “First, I am a Jew, then I am Ukrainian, and I never once hid this from anyone.”

Mykolaiv, pro-Russia before the war and now a vanguard of the south, has become a source of pride for its residents because of Russia’s failure to occupy it. Even before the war, Mykolaiv was a desperately poor city. But now, following eight months of daily explosions, destruction is everywhere and the city’s critical infrastructure has been badly damaged.

Damaged buildings are a common sight in Mykolaiv, which Russian troops pummeled during the first year of the war. So are people lining up for potable water. (Deborah Danan)

Like Odessa, the city has no electricity for up to 22 hours a day. For more than half a year, large swaths of the city had no water at all. Today, residents can turn on the tap and get a murky brown liquid known as technical water, but it is far from potable. For drinking and cooking, they are forced to collect safe water in plastic gallon bottles at water stations all over the city, many of which were installed by the Israeli nonprofit IsraAID.

Scenes of people placing buckets outside their houses in the hope of catching rainwater became ubiquitous in Mykolaiv. For its Jewish contingent, Chabad provides truckloads of bottled water. Hopstein credits the IFCJ and Chabad for keeping him alive.

“If it wasn’t for their help, I would have nothing,” he said.

Across the road from Hopstein, 82-year-old Galina Petrovna Mironenko, who is not Jewish, is not so lucky. A Russian S300 missile that appeared to be targeting a nearby university missed its mark and struck Mironenko’s home, decimating her every earthly possession. Mironenko said the only help she gets is a weekly loaf of bread from the government. Standing in her charred kitchen, her red and blue checkered headscarf offering the only color, Mironenko’s expression is almost childlike — a jarring contrast to the words she utters.

Galina Petrovna Mironenko stands in the wreckage of her home in Mykolaiv, destroyed by a Russian missile. Her Jewish neighbor credits aid from Jewish organizations for keeping him alive. (Deborah Danan)

“I have died three times in my life,” she said. “Once when my father died, again when my son died and a third time after the 20 minutes it took for my house to burn.”

Back in Odessa, the sun has set and the city is cloaked in darkness, a cue that soon it will be time to head indoors for the nightly curfew. But first, a visit to the Orlikovsky family who are packing their suitcases ahead of their emigration the next day. On the couch in the tiny living room sit four generations of Jews: Alina; her daughter, Marina; her grandson Andrey; and Andrey’s wife and daughter Viktoria and Sofiya.

Andrey recalls Feb. 24, 2022. “I couldn’t believe my eyes and ears. I heard a terrible blast and grabbed my daughter and told my wife, ‘Let’s get out!’ I thought my house was going to collapse like a doll’s house.”

Participants of the Hanukkah celebration in Kharkiv, northeastern Ukraine, received a hot meal — part of the sustained aid that Jewish communities have distributed throughout the war there, Dec. 18, 2022. (Vyacheslav Madiyevskyi / Ukrinform/Future Publishing via Getty Images)

But it would take nearly a year to finally make the move, because of Viktoria’s late mother who was sick and because, in Andrey’s words, “you get used to the bombs.”

“We live without power, we live without heating, very often there is no hot water. We are living like insects,” Alina said. “My children told me, mama, we need to go.”

When the family finished speaking, the electricity came back and the lights turned on. Sofiya, 5 years old, laughed into her mother’s chest.

The first anniversary of the war marks two weeks since Alexei Shkurat and the other 89 new arrivals were greeted on the tarmac of Ben Gurion Airport by Israel’s new immigration minister, Ofir Sofer. Shkurat is on the lookout for a permanent home in a place where he can sell his art.

“I am getting to know the country and looking for new friends,” he said. “I want to do a lot of beautiful and bright projects. I want to draw a lot,” he said.

He deeply misses Odessa, which he called an amazing city, but being reunited with his sons has soothed the pain.

“Meeting with my children was the best event of the last year,” he said.

—
The post Dramatic stories of survival, endurance and escape reign as Ukrainian Jews mark 1 year of war appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.

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Ohio GOP gubernatorial nominee appeared at church whose pastor called modern Judaism ‘fake’

Vivek Ramaswamy, the Republican nominee for governor of Ohio, campaigned twice at a church whose pastor compared COVID-era restrictions to Nazi Germany and whose members took part in a protest outside the home of a Jewish state lawmaker who described it as an antisemitic act of intimidation.

Ramaswamy, 41, is running against Amy Acton, a Jewish Democrat who faced antisemitic attacks and Nazi comparisons while serving as Ohio’s health director during the COVID-19 pandemic.

The Republican candidate most recently appeared on May 21 for a campaign event at Liberty Valley Church in Northfield, which describes itself as a “Bible-Believing Non Denominational Patriotic Church,” for a discussion about “The Future of Religious Liberty.” Ramaswamy appeared alongside the church’s pastor, the Rev. Jeff Tauring, who has preached there for more than two decades, according to the church’s website.

The church drew attention in 2021 after several members showed up outside the home of Casey Weinstein, a Democratic state representative who is Jewish, during protests over the coronavirus restrictions. Weinstein described it as a “show of force” intended to intimidate him and said the explicitly Christian messages — including a “kneel before the cross” banner and a call to “make Casey Weinstein be better” — directed at the home of a Jewish lawmaker made the demonstration antisemitic

Tauring, in an interview with the Cleveland Jewish News at the time, denied that the demonstration was antisemitic or intended to intimidate Weinstein, saying his church supported Jews and Israel. But he added that it was an obligation of his congregation to speak out, likening the vaccine mandates and other government health policies to the policies of the Nazi regime that preceded the Holocaust. “We feel like if somebody would have stood up for the Jews earlier, and it should have been the church, if they would have done that earlier,” he said, “I’m not sure if the catastrophe would have happened.”

Earlier this year during a sermon, Tauring described the modern practice of Judaism as “fake” and called Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu a ”wicked person” because “he doesn’t believe in Jesus Christ and he should.”

At the Ramaswamy event in May, Josh Mandel, a Jewish ally of the pastor who campaigned on “Judeo-Christian values” during his failed Senate bid against JD Vance in 2022, told the audience that Ramaswamy would govern according to the values practiced inside the church.

“I know Vivek. He’s not just going to campaign in churches once he’s governor; he’s going to keep coming back,” Mandel said, according to a recording of the event obtained by the Forward. “And he’s going to govern based on what is worshiped right here in this church.”

Ramaswamy also appeared at the church last December.

In an interview on Wednesday at the campaign’s request, Mandel said he organized the event at the church and described the pastor and Ramaswamy as great friends of the Jewish people.

He wasn’t familiar with the pastor’s past remarks and didn’t address them when the Forward shared them.

Mandel shared a clip of Ramaswamy answering a question at the event about antisemitism, in which he called it a “cancer” in society and said it must be confronted on both the left and by “some people who claim to be on the right.”

“I think that a society that turns towards blaming a successful group of people in our country and in many other cultures in our history is a society that actually is allergic to success,” Ramaswamy said at the town hall. “And a society that is allergic to success, a real victim of that is not just the Jewish people — who are the recipients of that hatred. The real victim is the entire society itself, because it is a cancer that will eat that nation from within.”

Ramaswamy’s complicated record with Jewish voters

Ramaswamy, a biotech entrepreneur who has never served in public office, has had his own complicated relationship with Jewish voters and has taken controversial positions on Israel.

During his 2024 presidential campaign, Ramaswamy broke with much of the Republican field by proposing that the United States eventually phase out its annual $3.8 million military assistance to Israel after the current agreement expired in 2028. He later softened that position, telling the Forward that aid should end only when Israel was strong and secure enough that it no longer needed American assistance.

Aligned with the “America First” worldview, Ramaswamy developed close relationships with figures like Tucker Carlson, the former Fox News host who has promoted antisemitic tropes and conspiracy theories, associated with white nationalists, and called for stripping citizenship from Americans who served in the Israeli army. Ramaswamy was reportedly on a shortlist to become secretary of state in Donald Trump’s second administration, supported by Donald Trump Jr., tech billionaire Elon Musk and Carlson.

Ramaswamy, a Hindu who was a member of Shabtai, a Jewish leadership society at Yale founded in 1996 as an alternative to the “secret societies” at the university, also faced criticism from Jewish groups for appearing on a podcast hosted by Albert Faleski, known online as An0maly, who had promoted antisemitic stereotypes and conspiracy theories. Ramaswamy told the Forward at the time that he had not known about the host’s statements before appearing on the show and argued that speaking with someone did not amount to endorsing that person’s views.

Jewish conservatives and Republican officials have spent much of the past year publicly confronting antisemitism within parts of the MAGA movement, particularly the growing influence of Carlson, Nick Fuentes and other online personalities who attack Israel and traffic in antisemitic conspiracy theories. An increasingly vocal faction on the far right has made Christian nationalism and antisemitism central to its politics.

Acton’s experience with antisemitism

The tension is particularly relevant in Ohio, where Ramaswamy is running against a Jewish Democrat who has spoken openly about her faith and has faced antisemitic attacks. If elected, Acton would become Ohio’s first Jewish governor.

While serving as Ohio’s health director during the COVID-19 pandemic, Acton became a target of antisemitic abuse and Nazi comparisons as she enforced the state’s public health restrictions.

Earlier this month, an armed man lunged toward Acton while she was speaking at a campaign event. The suspect, Partick Havas, was charged with assault, disorderly conduct and inducing panic. Authorities did not specify whether they believed the incident was motivated by antisemitism. Ramaswamy’s campaign condemned the episode, calling political violence “completely unacceptable.”

While the state has been governed by a Republican since 2021 and has been leaning GOP in recent elections, recent polls show Acton expanding her lead over Ramaswamy.

The post Ohio GOP gubernatorial nominee appeared at church whose pastor called modern Judaism ‘fake’ appeared first on The Forward.

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What is flydubai and will it continue to link Israel and the Emirates?

(JTA) — TEL AVIV – The apparent hijacking attempt aboard flydubai Flight 1073 has put a spotlight on the Emirati airline, which has become a main air link connecting Israelis to the rest of the world.

The incident could also test the relationship between Israel and one of the airlines that has come to symbolize the ties forged by the 2020 Abraham Accords, in which the United Arab Emirates was one of a small number of Arab countries that recognized Israel.

Flydubai, a Dubai government-owned airline, began operating in 2009 and launched regular flights to Israel in 2020, shortly after the UAE and Israel established diplomatic relations.

When war broke out in Israel in October 2023, many foreign airlines suspended flights to the country for extended periods. Flydubai and other UAE airlines continued operating flights to and from Israel through much of the conflict, providing an important connection for Israelis seeking to travel abroad at a time when international air service to the country was severely reduced.

The airline has also become an important hub for Israelis traveling beyond the UAE itself. Through Dubai, passengers can connect to destinations across Asia, Africa and other regions. The airline operates dozens of flights between Tel Aviv and Dubai each week.

According to Ben Gurion Airport data for August, flydubai carried roughly 90,000 passengers during the month. Since the beginning of 2026, more than 420,000 passengers have flown with the airline to or from Ben Gurion, accounting for roughly 4% of the airport’s international passenger traffic and placing it third among international airlines operating at the airport by passenger volume.

The incident aboard Flight 1073 could now put that relationship under scrutiny.

Israel’s Transportation Minister Miri Regev has reportedly asked Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to immediately suspend flydubai flights to Israel until the circumstances of Wednesday’s incident are clarified, according to Israeli news outlet Ynet.

Regev said flydubai had violated the countries’ aviation agreement, which she described as requiring pilots operating flights to Israel to be citizens of countries with which Israel maintains diplomatic relations. Israeli and international media have reported that the co-pilot who instigated the incident was an Omani national.

Former Israeli Ambassador to the UAE Amir Hayek pushed back against calls to suspend the flights, however. In a post on X, Hayek wrote that flydubai and Etihad were the only two airlines in the world that continued flying to Israel “even during the most difficult times,” and argued that the UAE and the airline should be allowed to fully investigate what happened rather than face action based on speculation.

“I trust them,” he wrote.

The episode comes as Flydubai continues to expand its global network. The airline said this month that it was operating an average of 2,200 flights a week and serving more than 125 destinations in 56 countries. Its partnership with the major airline Emirates gives passengers access to a combined network of more than 214 unique destinations in more than 100 countries, with more than 4,600 possible connections through Dubai.

This article originally appeared on JTA.org.

The post What is flydubai and will it continue to link Israel and the Emirates? appeared first on The Forward.

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Mayor Mamdani’s antisemitism strategy doesn’t define antisemitism. That’s a good thing.

Halfway through New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani’s strategy to combat antisemitism is a page labeled “definitions.” Rather than announce which definition of antisemitism the strategy will use, the page explains why the administration won’t be defining the term.

“Despite antisemitism’s persistent presence throughout history, scholars, community members and community leaders do not agree on certain aspects of what antisemitism is,” it reads. “New York City can and will leverage all of the tools at its disposal to combat antisemitism effectively without needing to adopt a definition for this specific form of hate.”

The strategy instead cites three prominent definitions: the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance or IHRA definition, the Jerusalem Declaration on Antisemitism, and the Nexus Document (in the interest of full disclosure,I am a fellow with the Nexus Task Force, though I was in no way involved in the writing of the definition). The strategy also alludes to other frameworks.

That it does not include a definition will be held up by some as proof that the Mamdani administration doesn’t take antisemitism seriously. In fact, the decision not to  select one definition shows that it is focused more on fixing the problem than prematurely picking just one method to solve it.

We do not need a definition to fight hatred. We do not have similar pushes to define, say, racism or sexism or xenophobia. The report itself makes the point that a definition is not “necessary useful” for the Mayor’s Office to Combat Antisemitism to do its work. “Every crime that may be bias motivated is investigated by the NYPD’s Hate Crimes Task Force consistent with New York State law and applicable criminal statutes. Likewise, allegations of anti-Jewish discrimination reported to the New York City Commission on Human Rights are assessed under the City’s Human Rights Law.”

Moreover, what people who want one definition often mean is that they want antisemitism defined as including anti-Zionism, or that they want the administration in question to adopt the IHRA definition of antisemitism, which the Mamdani administration revoked when he came into office. The IHRA definition contains examples of antisemitism that are mostly about Israel and that include “Applying double standards by requiring of [Israel] a behavior not expected or demanded of any other democratic nation,” and “Drawing comparisons of contemporary Israeli policy to that of the Nazis.”

Critics (including me) have argued that the codification or singular embrace of IHRA threatens to restrict speech around Israel and US foreign policy.

Further, Israeli legal scholars Itamar Mann and Lihi Yona have argued that, in addition to potentially chilling speech about Israel, the push to codify or embrace this one definition is a push for a government-sanctioned understanding of what it is to be Jewish. “It restricts the freedom of Jews to define their own identity, limiting the ways in which Jewish beliefs, thought and activism can be expressed,” they wrote last year. It would be inappropriate for the Mamdani administration, or any government administration, to take it upon itself to decide what it means to be Jewish.

And insisting that our understanding of antisemitism always and only adhere to one definition is like insisting that we always and only use a hammer for home renovation. Sometimes that is useful; sometimes that can result in destroying your house.

There are times that IHRA may be useful in thinking through what is and is not antisemitic. But there may be times that it leads to overuse and political abuse of the term “antisemitism.” A person protesting Israel and not any other country may be applying a double standard; on the other hand, they may be holding Israel to account because they are an American taxpayer and Israel is the top recipient of US aid. By pairing IHRA with other definitions and frameworks, those in office are more, not less, informed and empowered to thoroughly think through how they’re tackling antisemitism.

That isn’t to say there’s nothing to criticize about the Mamdani administration’s strategy. Some might note that it’s heavier on principle than it is on specific policy; others, that it does not mention that, though anti-Zionism and protest of Israel are not inherently antisemitic, both can cross over into antisemitic rhetoric, vandalism, and even violence.

But they don’t need a definition to do any of that. And like the Biden administration’s 2023 national strategy on antisemitism (which also declined to pick one single definition), the Mamdani strategy takes a whole of government approach, stressing that Jews are New Yorkers and allowing them to live as full-fledged members of society safely is everyone’s responsibility, and that it will use the tools at its disposal to do that. You could just have a hammer, but why would you want that when you could also have a screwdriver, a wrench, and your own ingenuity and discernment?

 

The post Mayor Mamdani’s antisemitism strategy doesn’t define antisemitism. That’s a good thing. appeared first on The Forward.

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