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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.
—
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Roald Dahl’s monstrous views have a seat at the table today
Roald Dahl’s house is falling down.
It’s 1983, and the children’s author’s Buckinghamshire estate is undergoing a gut renovation. Its exposed plumbing and naked beams bespeak an unseemly core behind the author’s facade of prickly charm, cracking after publication of his incendiary review of the book God Cried, about the 1982 Lebanon War. The article, which ran in the magazine Literary Review, crossed a then-clear line from legitimate critique of Israel into antisemitic tropes of the most noxious variety.
The play Giant, now on Broadway after an Olivier Award-winning run on the West End, imagines an afternoon in which Dahl’s publishers try to cajole him into an apology he’s determined not to make.
For the greater part of the first act in Mark Rosenblatt’s crackling script, the precise nature of Dahl’s comments remains obscure. We’re told that they were condemned in the press as “the most disgraceful thing to be written in the English language in a very long time.” They were so bad as to inspire a death threat credible enough to station a police constable outside Dahl’s home.
Finally, a Jewish-American sales director from Farrar, Straus and Giroux, who has arrived to do damage control, quotes Dahl’s remarks at length following a tense lunch of salad niçoise.
“Never before in the history of man has a race of people switched so rapidly from being much-pitied victims to barbarous murderers,” Dahl wrote of Israelis — or was it simply Jews? “Never before has a race of people generated so much sympathy around the world and then, in the space of a lifetime, succeeded in turning that sympathy into hatred and revulsion. It is as though a group of much-loved nuns in charge of an orphanage had suddenly turned around and started murdering all the children.”
Is it bad to say I’ve heard worse?
Were Dahl still with us, he would have an ideological home with certain members of Corbynite Labour and the Greens, to say nothing of Roger Waters. He would not run afoul of the “Zionists in Publishing” X account that tells consumers which authors are insufficiently critical of Israel; perhaps he would be marked on reading lists as an acceptable, pro-Palestinian alternative to J.K. Rowling.
Even the context of war in Lebanon that Dahl decried has currency, as Israel now trades fire with the remnants of Hezbollah and videos of demolished apartment blocks in Beirut proliferate online. More than 1,000 have died in airstrikes, more than 1 million are displaced and a possible ground invasion looms. (The play, written well before Oct. 7, and certainly before the latest offensive in Iran, suffers from a poignant prescience.)
Can a drama built around Dahl’s screed still work with the shift of the Overton Window toward a strident, existential questioning of Israel and its influence? Remarkably, it does.
The credit is shared. John Lithgow, playing his whole repertoire from Churchill and avuncular alien to Dexter’s Ice Truck Killer, is a rangy stick of dynamite. He pivots from boyish jokes to cruel barbs that catch on his victims like nettles.
Also in the cagey chess game are Aya Cash — as the invented American FSG envoy Jessie Stone — and Elliot Levey’s Tom Maschler, Dahl’s real-life British publisher, who was a Kindertransport child from Germany.
Maschler embodies a certain Jewish-English self-effacement, angling to keep the peace and resenting Israel as an impediment to his full acceptance as an Englishman — he thinks of the country as something he’s made to defend at parties.
Stone’s more forceful, American approach — calling out Dahl for lumping all Jews together as a “single organism” — rankles her host.

Dahl waxes Goebellsian, calling her “Stein,” and has her take dictation to a Holocaust survivor bookseller in the Hudson Valley who refuses to stock his work: “The kinder of his shtetl in upstate Noo Yoik will have to make do – no, survive on a strictly kosher diet of Laura Ingalls Wilder.”
Director Nicholas Hytner has staged a boxing match for today’s discourse, without changing a line from a pre-Oct. 7 script. What makes the work sing is its refusal to resort to caricature, humanizing Dahl through his fiancée Liccy Crossland (Rachael Stirling), the tragedies of his dead daughter and disabled son and, yes, his genuine concern and justified anguish for the Lebanese and Palestinians, particularly the children.
In a quieter moment, Dahl asks Stone if she read God Cried. She tells him she was moved by an image of a legless boy with crutches. (Dahl identifies him with ease, the victim of a penetration bomb near his school, and describes in typically gruesome fashion how “his arterial blood must have sprayed everywhere like a rogue garden hose.”)
“Why is that image not enough, on its own, for you to demand a halt?” he presses Stone. “And what’s wrong with insisting Jewish people, whose country it surely is, say ‘not in my name’? Surely it’s your voice we need above all?”
This cri de coeur is common now even in Jewish circles, but the sentiment is slippery when it hints at collective blame. After his encounter with Stone, Dahl clarifies his position in a verbatim interview, infamously opining that, when it comes to Jews, “even a stinker like Hitler didn’t just pick on them for no reason.”
That draws a gasp from the audience and a gobsmacked expression from Dahl’s housekeeper Hallie (Stella Everett).
But just how different is this claim to Ana Kasparian saying the goyim are waking up, Candace Owens claiming Satanic pedophile “Frankists” control the world, Young Republicans praising Hitler in group chats, Tucker Carlson platforming Holocaust deniers who suggest Winston Churchill was the real villain of World War II or Joe Kent writing in his resignation letter that the U.S. is continually drawn into wars “manufactured by Israel”? At a point, the figleaf of anti-Zionism proves flimsy. Older innuendos peek out from behind.
In the literary world of today, an audiobook narrator’s call for Zionists to kill themselves is not a cancellable offense — a Zionist moderating a book talk is. (But then, being a Palestinian critic of Israel can lead to a disinvitation to a book festival or reading series — that may be cancelled when other authors withdraw in solidarity.)
Now that we are further from the Holocaust, the carnage in Gaza was broadcast to our phones and the monoculture has atomized into internet echo chambers, Dahl’s review seems pedestrian if not quite mainstream. A cause célèbre in 1983 is now a viral retweet or a chart-topping podcast. His claim that “ancient wounds” didn’t make Jews wiser, but gave them a “partial sight” of their own trespasses sounds a lot like the thesis of Peter Beinart’s last book.
With Giant’s move to Broadway, a local analogy may be in order.
Earlier this month, New York Mayor Zohran Mamdani’s wife, Rama Duwaji, was revealed to have contributed freelance illustrations to a book of stories by young people in Gaza compiled by the Palestinian-American writer Susan Abulhawa. Abulhawa’s social media posts, which called Israelis “vampires” and “cockroaches” and refused to distinguish between Jews and Zionists, prompted Mamdani to call her words “reprehensible,” earning him grief from pro-Palestinian quarters.
What would the response be, had the First Lady of New York provided artwork on a book of Dahl’s and his comments came to light? Abulhawa cuts a different figure: She is the daughter of Palestinian refugees and writes movingly of her people’s suffering. Yet I suspect, like her, Dahl, would have his defenders.
Just as Dahl doubled down when reached for comment on his review — the occasion of his “Hitler stinker” quote — Abulhawa responded to Mayor Mamdani’s censure in an interview by claiming American Jews were the “most privileged demographic in this country” and “the resentment that they are seeing now is stemming from the world watching the so-called Jewish State commit a genocide.”
In other words, the logic follows, the world isn’t picking on Jews for no reason. The sleeping giant of this rationale — a proverbial light sleeper — has been awakened. Dahl, it seems, was just too early to rouse it.
The play Giant is now playing at the Music Box Theatre on Broadway. Tickets and more information can be found here.
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New Report Reveals Rampant Human Rights Abuses in Iran as Activists Warn of Another Wave of Mass Executions
People attend Eid al-Fitr prayers, marking the end of Muslim holy fasting month of Ramadan, amid the US-Israeli conflict with Iran, in Tehran, Iran, March 21, 2026. Photo: Majid Asgaripour/WANA (West Asia News Agency) via REUTERS
A new report reveals the widespread scale of human rights abuses in Iran over the past year, as activists warn the regime may carry out another wave of mass executions to suppress growing opposition amid deepening unrest.
The Human Rights Activists News Agency (HRANA), an independent group monitoring Iran, released a report last week, timed for Nowruz, the Persian New Year, outlining a deeply concerning human rights situation over the past 12 months, citing crackdowns on protesters, harassment of activists, threats to minorities, executions of children, violations of women’s rights, and dire prison conditions.
According to HRANA’s Statistics and Documentation Center, 78,907 people were arrested on ideological or political grounds from March 2025 to March 2026, highlighting a pervasive climate of repression across the country.
But the report warns that the number of arrests is likely much higher, given the difficulty of tracking such cases — especially earlier this year during recent nationwide anti-government protests, which security forces violently crushed, leaving thousands of demonstrators tortured or killed.
HRANA reports that at least 6,724 protesters, including 236 children, were killed during these protests, with an additional 11,744 cases still under verification. Multiple reports have put the death toll at over 30,000.
During the regime’s violent crackdown, the group also recorded 25,877 people sustaining serious injuries, with 53,777 arrests occurring on just Jan. 8 and 9 alone.
On women’s rights, HRANA reports that 105 women were murdered, including seven so-called “honor killings” — murders committed under the pretext of preserving family honor — and documents 68 cases of rape or sexual abuse.
Recent media reports indicate that Iranian security forces raped and tortured medical staff who treated wounded anti-regime protesters during the country’s nationwide uprising in January, targeting them in a campaign of intimidation against those aiding demonstrators.
As in past years, executions remain one of the starkest manifestations of human rights abuses in Iran, with at least 2,488 people executed last year, including 63 women and two children, 13 of them carried out publicly.
According to a report by Harm Reduction International (HRI), a global organization tracking drug policy and human rights, 955 people were executed for drug-related offenses in 2025 — an average of roughly three per day — with over 1,000 more currently on death row.
Nearly one in four of those executed were from ethnic minority groups, more than one in five were foreign nationals, and the majority were poor, accused of minor drug offenses, and denied proper legal protections, the report notes.
As the regime continues its campaign of executions, the report says at least 222 children have been left without parents.
United Nations Special Rapporteur on human rights in Iran Mai Sato denounced the regime’s brutal treatment of individuals accused of drug crimes, highlighting the disproportionate impact on vulnerable families.
“Many of the drugs-related cases in Iran involve young fathers from minority ethnic backgrounds experiencing economic hardship who face not only execution but also confiscation of their limited assets – including family homes and farmland – devastating their families long after their execution,” Sato said in a statement.
According to HRI’s latest report, at least 65 executions were carried out in secret without prior notice, denying families the chance to say goodbye, and some occurred despite ongoing legal proceedings.
Iranian security forces also systematically used coercion and torture, while denying prisoners access to legal counsel, to force illegitimate confessions.
HRI also reports that under Iran’s Islamic Penal Code, the principle of elm‑e‑qazi — which allows judges to determine guilt based solely on circumstantial evidence without confessions or witnesses — is frequently applied arbitrarily.
With an increasing number of reports exposing the scale of systematic abuses across the country, human rights groups are warning that the death toll may climb sharply, with over 100 detainees at risk of execution.
Last week, three young Iranian men, including 19-year-old wrestling champion Saleh Mohammadi, were executed as the regime intensifies its crackdown on dissent, The Associated Press reported.
Mahmood Amiry-Moghaddam, head of Oslo-based Iran Human Rights, told the AP the executions are “intended to instill fear in society and deter new protests” amid deepening unrest.
On Monday, Iran’s judiciary confirmed that cases tied to the January protests have reached final verdicts and warned that those convicted would face no leniency.
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‘Verbal sparring’ at a conference for religious Jews breaking from Israel orthodoxy? That’s not what I experienced
To the editors:
The Forward‘s article about the recent Smol Emuni conference seems to describe a different event than the one that I attended. There were certainly different viewpoints among the people assembled at the gathering for religious Jews who, per the organization’s mission, seek “justice, equality, and dignity for Jews and Palestinians.” And there were views and perspectives shared that felt challenging or even difficult to hear.
But to assert, as the Forward‘s article did, that the conference was riven by strife and anger is simply not true.
The basis of the article’s claim, and the focus of a flurry of subsequent op-eds and blog posts, was Rabbi Saul Berman’s address to open the afternoon session. Berman used his remarks to criticize the Palestinian activist who had spoken in the morning; in doing so, he invoked a broad, monochromatic description of Islamic theology that felt out of place to some of us, including me.
Berman argued that Islamic Law prohibits any territorial concession, suggesting that Islamic law, but not Jewish law, continues to make peace impossible. The implication that Jewish theology has not blocked work toward peace is quite problematic, given the central role of religious leaders and communities in building settlements and in right-wing politics in Israel.
It is precisely this line of argument that many came to this conference to escape. In too many Jewish communities, it feels impossible to acknowledge the ways in which Judaism has contributed to Palestinian suffering and injustice. Smol Emuni was created in part to end that silence. That is why Berman’s words felt jarring.
But reading the Forward‘s article, one might think that Berman spoke with anger or that the audience actively derided him.
In fact, Berman spoke for close to 20 minutes. As far as I could see, everyone listened to him attentively. Most of the audience applauded when he concluded; I heard no boos. While a few people came and went during his remarks, as is the case at any such event, I saw no evidence that anyone “walked out in protest.”
One of the organizers did feel the need to note, after Berman concluded, that the conference organizers specifically did not share all of his views. She did so gracefully, while thanking him warmly for speaking and affirming her deep respect for him. I do not know how Berman felt, but he was not visibly angered and he stayed for the remainder of the program.
It was an awkward moment, to be sure, but not one of rancor or disrespect. It certainly did not define the conference, which elevated a range of important voices and viewpoints that I found both thoughtful and thought-provoking.
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