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Hidden in Central Park, a modest installation of Holocaust art — but what was it doing there?
I’m a big walker. It’s how I stay sane, if one could call what I am, sane. I listen to books, podcasts and music. The lake I live on upstate has a road straight around it, so it is a perfect and beautiful four-mile walk. I walk around it once or twice every day.
Not long ago, I went walking in Central Park, which is down the block from my apartment in Manhattan. About a quarter of a mile of the way in, I saw out of the corner of my eye something interesting on the curb. Oddly, it looked like art.
When I went over to see what it was, it turned out to be a beautifully, albeit austerely, painted brick, with what I thought were three viewpoints of a prisoner in black and white. On the side was a piece of masking tape with a series of numbers, which made it seem like it was an installation, and this was the edition number. Maybe it was some new Banksy installation, I thought, and greedily picked it up. Had I found some secret treasure? It was heavy enough to be an encumbrance, but already, in my assessment, too valuable to leave.
By the time I got halfway around the park, I collected three more and was trying to do my seven-mile walk carrying four heavy bricks in a plastic bag I picked out of the trash. I knew I’d never make it all the way around. I decided to hide them under a bush at 74th and Fifth and come back later to collect them.
I had lunch with my friend Christine who afterwards walked with me to the secret hiding place and helped me carry them through the park. She was equally astonished by them. When I got home, I showed my spouse, Kevin, a talented writer and editor, who knew at once what they were. They were Jewish prisoners from the concentration camps and the numbers hastily taped to the sides were some kind of identification numbers. I wondered if they were the ones tattooed on their arms.
Kevin looked on the web and found something called the Arolsen Archives where you could look up the numbers like the ones on the bricks and find out who the prisoners were, so they were more like the filing numbers, the tally of the murdered. It seemed logical, though I couldn’t find any of the four on the bricks.
Why hadn’t I immediately known what the images were? I am a Jew. I have always been obsessed with the Holocaust. I saw Claude Lanzmann’s monumental nine-hour documentary, Shoah, twice. I spent eight harrowing hours at Theresienstadt two years ago. I created an opera out of Giorgio Bassani’s Holocaust novel, The Garden of the Finzi-Continis. My grandmother flooded us when we were children with photos of everyone who was murdered in the little Polish village she mercifully escaped the day it was wiped off the map. But it took Kevin, a Catholic, to identify them.
I suddenly felt very strange. Had I disturbed some kind of Holocaust memorial someone was in the process of installing all over the park? But they seemed so delicate and randomly placed — one good rain might destroy them. The masking tape was already falling off. Maybe someone has an explanation, or knows what I should do with them, I thought. They should be protected. They are disturbing and moving, and chillingly beautiful. They should be seen.
Taken by their aesthetic beauty, but curiously oblivious to their power, I arranged them on the shelves in our bedroom. But as soon as Kevin entered the room, he said, “Those cannot stay in here.” It never occurred to me that sleeping in a bed where these faces were staring down at you might be upsetting.
I posted my story and images of the bricks on Facebook seeking to find answers, and received all kinds of responses, including, especially from my writer and artist friends, an almost haughty and judgmental, “Put them back!” I felt guilty, ashamed, and thought about it, but it didn’t feel right.
This is what I wanted to happen: People would see what I had posted, understand how extraordinary my discovery was, and answer the questions that I had: Why would someone do this? The pieces were oddly located — one on the curb, one on a wall, on a bench, but all out in the open for anyone to find — was anyone checking on them? Why was I the only one that saw them? Was I, in fact, the only one? Were they a memorial? An installation? Were they Banksy? Was I holding a treasure and finally about to get rich? Of course I couldn’t sell them, but I thought about it.
No one had any answers, though, and none of my 5,000 Facebook friends raised their hand to say, “I made them, and this is why.”
I am a composer, and sensitive to the gesture — an artist’s quiet activist act, the element of chance, the small revolution, the poetry of it. Perhaps I should have left them undisturbed, let the artist have his/her/their way. But I didn’t, I couldn’t, and here we are.
Now what?
The world feels so precarious right now — violent and unpredictable. This looked like it might be some profound political statement, some cry from the artist’s studio, some shriek in the dark in these bricks. But I don’t know what it was, and I’m dying to find out.
I still question my obliviousness to what the images were when I first saw them. It rattles me. Could I be inured to such horrors?
Last night, when I went to sleep, I dreamt I was in a building with three other men. We were wiring a building to blow it up. When the blast was imminent, and the building started collapsing, they got out and I didn’t. I woke up startled, shaking, sweating and wondering: What do these bricks signify?
And why was it me that found them?
Can anyone tell me?
Anyone?
The post Hidden in Central Park, a modest installation of Holocaust art — but what was it doing there? appeared first on The Forward.
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After Australian literary festival drops Palestinian activist, citing Bondi massacre, dozens boycott in solidarity
(JTA) — An Australian writers’ festival is facing backlash after it announced it had removed an Australian-Palestinian author from its lineup over concerns her inclusion would “not be culturally sensitive” in the wake of the Bondi massacre.
The decision by the organizers of Adelaide Writers’ Week to disinvite Palestinian Australian author, lawyer and activist Randa Abdel-Fattah comes weeks after two gunmen motivated by “Islamic State ideology” opened fire on a Hanukkah celebration in Sydney, killing 15 and injuring dozens more.
“Whilst we do not suggest in any way that Dr Randa Abdel-Fattah’s or her writings have any connection with the tragedy at Bondi, given her past statements we have formed the view that it would not be culturally sensitive to continue to program her at this unprecedented time so soon after Bondi,” the festival’s board’s statement read.
While it was unclear what the festival’s organizers were referring to, in the wake of the Bondi massacre, Abdel-Fattah made a post in the wake of the Bondi massacre decrying those who she said were “quickly surrendering to the agenda of those who are using a horrific act of antisemitism to entrench anti-Palestinian racism.”
“Now is the time to insist on principles not abandon them,” she in a Dec. 17 post on Instagram, three days after the attack. “To see through the shameful and dangerous political exploitation of the murder of 16 people by Zionists, white supremacists, the far right to advance their racist, violent, and oppressive agendas.”
The festival’s organizers wrote that the decision will “likely be disappointing to many in our community,” adding that they expected it would be “labelled and will cause discomfort and pressure to other participants.”
Indeed, since the organizer’s decision was announced on Thursday, nearly 50 writers have announced that they would boycott the festival, which is scheduled to take place from Feb. 28 to March 5, according to The Guardian.
Among the authors who have announced their resignation from the event are British author Zadie Smith, Pulitzer Prize winner Percival Everett, former Greek finance minister Yanis Varoufakis and Russian-Jewish writer M. Gessen, according to The Sydney Morning Herald.
Jewish Community Council of South Australia public and government liaison Norman Schueler told the Australian Broadcasting Corporation that he had written a letter to the organizers calling for Abdel-Fattah’s removal. (The progressive Jewish Council of Australia condemned Abdel-Fattah’s removal.)
“The board [has] completely, appropriately disinvited her and personally, I’m very, very surprised it appears a large cohort of people have decided to support her,” Schueler told the outlet.
On Thursday, Abdel-Fattah posted a statement on X where she decried the festival’s decision.
“This is a blatant and shameless act of anti-Palestinian racism and censorship and a despicable attempt to associate me with the Bondi massacre,” she said. “After two years of Isrel’s live-streamed genocide of Palestinians, Australian arts and cultural institutions continue to reveal their utter contempt and inhumanity towards Palestinians. The only Palestinians they will tolerate are silent and invisible ones.”
Abdel-Fattah told the Australian Broadcasting Corporation that she hoped that the festival would reconsider its decision.
“I would like an apology, I would like a redemption in terms of the retraction of that statement, the reinstatement of my invitation and steps by the board to actually hold itself accountable to community for what it has done here,” she said.
The post After Australian literary festival drops Palestinian activist, citing Bondi massacre, dozens boycott in solidarity appeared first on The Forward.
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A quiet diplomatic shift in the Middle East, with monumental consequences for Israel
Something significant is happening between Israel and Syria, and it deserves more attention than it is getting.
With the backing of the United States, Israeli and Syrian officials have agreed to create what they call a “joint fusion mechanism” — a permanent channel for coordination on intelligence, de-escalation, diplomacy and economic matters — during meetings in Paris. It appears to be the beginning of institutionalized contact between two countries that have formally been at war since 1948.
If this process continues, it will count as a genuine foreign-policy success for President Donald Trump’s administration.
To understand how profound that change would be, it is worth recalling the two countries’ shared history.
Israel and Syria — which the U.S. struck with a set of targeted attacks on the Islamic State on Saturday — have fought openly or by proxy for decades. Before 1967, Syrian artillery positions in the Golan Heights regularly shelled Israeli communities in the Hula Valley and around the Sea of Galilee. After Israel captured that region in 1967, the direct shelling stopped, but the conflict did not.
Syria remained formally committed to a state of war; Israel entrenched itself in the Golan Heights; both sides treated the frontier as a potential flashpoint to be managed carefully. After Egypt and Israel made peace in 1979, Syria became Israel’s most dangerous neighboring state.
A 1974 disengagement agreement created a United Nations-monitored buffer zone, which mostly ensured peace along the border, but did not resolve anything fundamental. In Lebanon, Israel and Syria backed opposing forces for years, and their air forces clashed briefly during the 1982 Lebanon War. Later, Iran’s growing role in Syria and Hezbollah’s military buildup added new threats. The Syrian civil war then destroyed basic state capacity and created precisely the kind of militia-rich environment Israel fears along its borders.
Now, with the dictator Bashar al-Assad gone and the former rebel leader Ahmed al-Sharaa in power, Syria is a broken country trying to stabilize. Sharaa’s past associations, disturbingly, include leadership of jihadist groups that were part of the wartime landscape in Syria. But today he governs a state facing economic collapse, infrastructure ruin and a population that needs jobs and basic services. His incentives are simple and powerful: ensure the survival of his regime, invite foreign investment, and secure relief from isolation and sanctions. Those goals point toward the U.S. and its partners, including Israel.
The Trump administration has made it clear that it wants to see new Syrian cooperation with Israel, with the suggestion that progress with Israel will become a gateway to international investment, and to a degree of political acceptance that Syria has lacked for years. Al-Sharaa’s willingness to engage is therefore not a mystery.
Israel’s motivations are also straightforward. After the Gaza war, Israel is facing a severe reputational problem. It is widely viewed abroad as reckless and excessively militarized. The government is under pressure over not only the conduct of the war but also the perception that it has no political strategy and relies almost exclusively on force. A diplomatic track with Syria allows Israel to present a very different picture: that of a country capable of negotiations with ideologically opposed neighbors, de-escalation, and regional cooperation.
There are significant security incentives, too.
Israel wants to limit Iran and Hezbollah’s influence in Syria. It wants a predictable northern border. It wants assurances regarding the Druze population in southern Syria — brethren to the Israeli Druze who are extremely loyal to the state, and who were outraged after a massacre of Syrian Druze followed the installation of al-Sharaa’s regime. It wants to ensure that no armed Syrian groups will tread near the Golan. A coordinated mechanism supervised by the U.S. offers a strong diplomatic way to address these issues.
The U.S. will benefit as well. The Trump team is eager to show that it can deliver lasting diplomatic achievements in the Middle East after the success of the Abraham Accords in Trump’s first term. A meaningful shift in Israel–Syria relations would be a very welcome addition, especially as the U.S.-brokered ceasefire in the Gaza war faces an uncertain future.
The main questions now are practical. Can the “joint fusion mechanism” function under pressure? What will happen when there is, almost inevitably, an incident — a drone downed, a militia clash, a cross-border strike? Will the new system effectively lower the temperature, or will it collapse at the first crisis?
Will Iran — facing its own profound internal political crisis — accept a Syria that coordinates with Israel under U.S. supervision, or will it work to undermine al-Sharaa? How will Hezbollah react if Damascus appears to move away from the axis of “resistance” and toward a security understanding with Israel?
How would an Israel-Syria deal impact Lebanon’s moribund efforts to dismantle Hezbollah’s military capacity? Al-Sharaa has already helped significantly by ending the transfer of weapons to Hezbollah from Iran through his territory. Might he also actively help with the disarming of the group?
No one should expect a full peace treaty soon. The question of possession of the Golan Heights probably remains a deal-breaker. Public opinion in Syria has been shaped by decades of official hostility to Israel, and Israeli politics is fragmented and volatile.
But diplomatic breakthroughs can confound expectations. They usually begin with mechanisms like this one, involving limited cooperation, routine contact and crisis management.
If this effort helps move the border from a zone of permanent tension to one of managed stability, that alone would be a major shift. It would also send a signal beyond the region: U.S. engagement still matters, and American pressure and incentives can still change behavior.
The post A quiet diplomatic shift in the Middle East, with monumental consequences for Israel appeared first on The Forward.
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Israel’s Netanyahu Hopes to ‘Taper’ Israel Off US Military Aid in Next Decade
Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu speaks to the press on Capitol Hill, Washington, DC, July 8, 2025. REUTERS/Evelyn Hockstein
Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu said in an interview published on Friday that he hopes to “taper off” Israeli dependence on US military aid in the next decade.
Netanyahu has said Israel should not be reliant on foreign military aid but has stopped short of declaring a firm timeline for when Israel would be fully independent from Washington.
“I want to taper off the military within the next 10 years,” Netanyahu told The Economist. Asked if that meant a tapering “down to zero,” he said: “Yes.”
Netanyahu said he told President Donald Trump during a recent visit that Israel “very deeply” appreciates “the military aid that America has given us over the years, but here too we’ve come of age and we’ve developed incredible capacities.”
In December, Netanyahu said Israel would spend 350 billion shekels ($110 billion) on developing an independent arms industry to reduce dependency on other countries.
In 2016, the US and Israeli governments signed a memorandum of understanding for the 10 years through September 2028 that provides $38 billion in military aid, $33 billion in grants to buy military equipment and $5 billion for missile defense systems.
Israeli defense exports rose 13 percent last year, with major contracts signed for Israeli defense technology including its advanced multi-layered aerial defense systems.
US Republican Senator Lindsey Graham, a staunch Israel supporter and close ally of Trump, said on X that “we need not wait ten years” to begin scaling back military aid to Israel.
“The billions in taxpayer dollars that would be saved by expediting the termination of military aid to Israel will and should be plowed back into the US military,” Graham said. “I will be presenting a proposal to Israel and the Trump administration to dramatically expedite the timetable.”