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How the Lower East Side has changed since the 1988 rom-com ‘Crossing Delancey’

(New York Jewish Week) — The classic and very Jewish 1988 film “Crossing Delancey” is one of those movies that feels both extremely of its time and also completely timeless. 

Director Joan Micklin Silver’s film has all the classic rom-com trappings: A woman who’s torn between two men (and to that end, two worlds); complaints about how hard it is to meet a man in New York City (as true in 1988 as it is in 2022), and a “mother” figure who knows better (here, a Jewish grandmother known as Bubbe, and in this case, she actually does know better). You could pluck all these specifics and drop them into a present-day film — and, if told with the heart and care of “Crossing Delancey,” still have a pretty good movie.

Yet there’s one thing about the “Crossing Delancey” that fully anchors it in the past, and that is  its late-1980s Lower East Side setting. While our heroine, Izzy (Amy Irving), lives and works on the Upper West Side, she pays frequent visits to her Bubbe (Yiddish theater actress Reizl Bozyk), her grandmother, downtown. From the moment that Izzy steps off the train at Delancey Street, she’s transported to another world: a bustling Jewish enclave with market-goers shopping for produce, friends and neighbors in the streets kibbitzing and a Hasidic child sitting outside the subway, enjoying a treat from a local bakery.  

This dichotomy between the “Old World” of the Lower East Side and the “New World” uptown is the central conflict of the film: Izzy’s inability to reconcile her Jewish roots with her desire to live a secular, intelligentsia lifestyle, as represented by her two love interests (Sam the Pickle Man and Anton, the self-important author). 

However, rewatching the film in the present day, I can’t help but wonder: Would Izzy run from the shtetl if she knew that in a few years, it wouldn’t exist anymore? That due to rising rents and a shift in population, many Jewish businesses would meet their end — or, somewhat ironically, be part of the flight to Brooklyn that began in the early-to-mid 2000s? In some ways, 1988 itself was the beginning and the end: It marked the opening of the Lower East Side Tenement Museum, an effort to preserve the neighborhood’s immigrant past, and it was the very same year that Mayor Koch created a new redevelopment proposal for the Seward Park Extension, a canary in the coal mine for the sea change of development the city would see over the next 30 years.

Re-watching the film in 2022, it struck me how the Lower East Side’s bustling Jewish enclave  — the same place where my grandparents were born and raised — has since been lost to time, gentrification and re-zoning plans. These days, the neighborhood paints a different picture entirely: giant buildings hog entire city blocks, with construction promising even more sky-high buildings. There’s no specific character to the neighborhood, no story to tell, few places more integral to the city’s fabric than the Delancey-Essex McDonald’s.

Of course, if you’ve lived in the city long enough, you know there’s no getting comfortable. New Yorkers have to, in essence, harden their hearts. We must accept that the local business you love that’s here today very well could be gone tomorrow — even if that business is a Duane Reade. The Lower East Side of today is not the neighborhood of 1988, or 1968 or 1928.

But amongst all of the present-day residential developments, upscale clothing stores and fast food chains, old-school Jewish businesses like The Pickle Guys, Kossar’s Bagels and Bialys and Yonah Schimmel’s Knish Bakery are still thriving. (And, I’d like to think that if you look hard enough, you’ll find some meddling but well-meaning bubbes and yentas, too.)

While we might not be able to fully experience the Lower East Side as the cast and crew of “Crossing Delancey,” here are four places from “Crossing Delancey” that you can still visit, and four that are sadly gone forever.

What Remains Today

Bubbe’s Apartment

154 Broome Street

The interior shots of Bubbe’s apartment, where Izzy fulfills all of her granddaughterly duties, like singing with her grandmother in Yiddish and plucking her chin hairs, were filmed at 154 Broome Street. The 181-unit building sits at the mouth of the Williamsburg Bridge — which is why Bubbe has that spectacular view — and is part of the New York City Housing Authority’s Seward Park Housing Extension. So while you still can visit the exterior of Bubbe’s apartment building today, don’t linger too long — it might weird out the current tenants.

 

Essex Market

108 Essex Street

This one is a little complicated. The original Essex Market, where Bubbe shows off her Korean-language skills, still stands today. (If you get off at the subway at Delancey Street, you can’t really miss it.) But that iteration of the market closed its doors in 2019 — in order to relocate to a building across the street so big and so glassy it would make Michael Bloomberg blush. In addition to apartments, office space and a movie theater (it’s a truly mixed-use building for our modern times!), Essex Market does boast local, independent vendors, such as Essex Olive & Spice, Porto Rico Importing Co. and Puebla Mexicana food. Per the New York Times, only one of the market’s vendors decided to forgo the moveopting instead for retirement. But you  might want to pay a visit to the original Essex Market while you still can — even if only to give it one last look. Following the move, Essex Market initially housed some avant-garde art installations, but it has since seemingly closed its doors for good. According to Gothamist, it’s to be razed to create — what else? — more condos.

 

Seward Park Handball Court

Essex Street between Grand and Hester Streets

From the moment Sam and Izzy meet, he makes no effort to hide his ardor. In fact, I’d say he uses every weapon in his arsenal to demonstrate his interest — even going so far as to try to impress her with his handball skills when she unexpectedly drops by the court. (You might also clock his CUNY sweatshirt, as I most certainly did.) The handball court is still there, should you decide you want to play a pickup game, but sadly the court’s colorful mural depicted in the film has since been painted over.

 

Bonus: Gray’s Papaya

2090 Broadway

While this article is focused on the film’s Lower East Side locations, and with good reason, we’d be remiss if we didn’t point out that one important New York institution Izzy visits triumphantly remains: The Upper West Side Gray’s Papaya. There, Izzy celebrates her birthday with a friend and a hot dog — the right way to do it, in my opinion — when a woman bursts in singing “Some Enchanted Evening,” for everyone and no one in particular. It’s one of many of the film’s classic New York moments.

 

What’s Been Replaced

Steinberg’s Dairy

21 Essex Street

When Izzy emerges from that train at Delancey Street, director Silver takes great care to immerse us in this world. The camera stays on Izzy as she walks from the subway to Bubbe’s apartment, passing a host of local businesses along the way. Among them is Steinberg’s Dairy, which once lived at 21 Essex Street. Steinberg’s Dairy, which also had an Upper West Side location, offered staples like herring, egg salad and vegetarian chopped liver for less than a dollar back in 1941. Today, if you’re in the area, you can grab a drink at the punk rock bar Clockwork, which opened in 2013.

 

Zelig Blumenthal

13 Essex Street

Izzy also takes us by Zelig’s Blumenthal (also known as Z & A Kol Torah), where three older women sit outside, enjoying the sights and sounds around them. Once a popular Judaica store, it unexpectedly closed its Lower East Side doors in 2010 after 60 years in business. At the time, then-owner Mordechai Blumenthal made the decision to relocate the store to Flatbush due to a dwindling Orthodox population and foot traffic in the area, and a landlord who made clear he “wanted him gone.” It’s unclear if the Flatbush location remains open today, but a vintage clothing store called Country Of has taken up its original spot.

 

Posner’s Pickles (AKA Guss’ Pickles)

35 Essex Street

Posner’s Pickles, as run by Sam the Pickle Man in the film, was never exactly a real place to begin with. Filming took place at the world-famous Guss’ Pickles, which first opened on Hester Street in 1920, before relocating to Essex Street, where there were once over 80 pickle vendors for locals to choose from. After a stint on Orchard Street, Guss’ Pickles followed in the footsteps of so many others by then, leaving Manhattan to open up shop in Brooklyn’s Dekalb Market in 2017. While Guss’ Pickles is today based out of the Bronx, their delicious pickles are available to order no matter where you are in the country, via Goldbelly. Today, 35 Essex Street is home to Delancey Wine —  appropriately named, but  doesn’t offer possibilities for a slogan like “a joke and a pickle for only a nickel,” as Posner’s Pickles did in the film.

 

Schapiro’s Kosher Wines

124 Rivington Street
For 100 years, Schapiro’s Kosher Wines proudly served the Jewish community as the only kosher winery in New York City. It’s where Bubbe chides Izzy for her lack of interest in Sam, and while today the pair couldn’t have this conversation outside Schapiro’s, they could grab brunch at the restaurant Essex. Home to New York City’s “longest-running Brunch Party,” Essex salutes its Lower East Side roots with dishes like potato pancakes and Israeli couscous.

 


The post How the Lower East Side has changed since the 1988 rom-com ‘Crossing Delancey’ appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.

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New Year, Same Terrorism: Palestinian Authority’s Ruling Party Keeps Promoting Violence

A group of Palestinian children being taught that Israel will be destroyed. Photo: Palestinian Media Watch.

Fatah, the ruling party of the Palestinian Authority (PA), continues to promote terrorism as legitimate, necessary, and inevitable. This comes more than three decades after Yasser Arafat was awarded a Nobel Peace Prize for claiming that the PA and PLO (also ruled by Fatah) had given up terror.

Fatah’s terror wing recently used the anniversary of Fatah’s founding — January 1, 1965 — to amplify its ongoing glorification of its Martyrs and “prisoners,” i.e., terrorists, and to promote “armed struggle” as the “foremost” form of “resistance,” which is the “shortest and only way to deter” Israel “and expel it from our land”:

On the occasion of the 61st anniversary of the Intilaqa of the Palestinian revolution and the Fatah Movement … we renew the covenant with the Martyrs, the prisoners, and the wounded [i.e., terrorists] — our compass will continue to point towards Jerusalem, and our rifles will be directed at the occupation [i.e., Israel] … We in the Al-Aqsa Martyrs’ Brigades emphasize the following permanent principles … Resistance in all its forms, foremost among them the armed struggle, is the shortest and only way to deter this oppressive enemy and expel it from our land. [emphasis added]

[Al-Aqsa Martyrs’ Brigades, Telegram channel, Dec. 31, 2025]

The Intilaqa, or “the Launch,” of Fatah refers to its first terror attack against Israel, when it attempted to blow up the National Water Carrier.

When Fatah says that the “only way” to “deter” Israel is through “resistance in all its forms” as well as when it uses terms such as “all means” and “armed struggle,” it consistently refers to shootings, stabbings, car-rammings, Molotov cocktail attacks, and other acts of terror against Israeli civilians.

In recent months, similar statements have been made by various senior members of the PLO, the parent body that established the Palestinian Authority.

PLO Executive Committee member Azzam Al-Ahmad stated that he supports “armed struggle” to serve the Palestinian “political cause”:

Click to play

PLO Executive Committee member Azzam Al-Ahmad:“The Palestinian cause is a political cause and not a military one. However, politics is not disconnected from military activity and is particularly not disconnected from the struggle activity … an armed struggle of a people fighting to regain its land and its rights.”

[Official PA TV, Topic of the Day, Nov. 11, 2025]

Hamada Farana, who is a member of the Palestinian National Council, which is the PLO’s legislative body, promoted “armed struggle” and “popular intifada” as means and tools.

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Palestinian National Council member and political commentator Hamada Farana:“[We need] an agreement on the methods of the struggle. We must see the armed struggle, popular intifada, and negotiations as means and tools — not as principles. Therefore, when a shared political platform is formulated [between Fatah and Hamas] and there will be a unified representative institution, then necessarily they will reach the [appropriate] means. If armed struggle will be required, they will conduct armed struggle. If a popular intifada will be required, they will hold a popular intifada. If negotiations will be required, they will conduct negotiations.”

[Official PA TV, Capital of Capitals, Nov. 27, 2025]

Tamer Aziz, who is a political bureau member of the Palestinian Popular Struggle Front, a faction within the PLO, was proud to “renew the oath” to armed struggle and recalled the Intilaqa as well:

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Palestinian Popular Struggle Front (PPSF) political bureau member Tamer Aziz: “We stand with admiration and respect in memory of the late leader, the symbol, the Martyr Yasser Arafat to renew the alliance and the oath with him, with the Launch [of Fatah], with the first bullet, the first Martyr, the first proclamation of the Launch of Fatah-Al-Asifah.”

[Official PA TV, Nov. 11, 2025]

These statements reveal an unbroken pattern that has never changed. Across its factions and institutions, the PA continues to openly promote terrorism as a usable and repeatable tool, to glorify terrorists as role models, and to reaffirm it as a core strategy.

Ephraim D. Tepler is a researcher at Palestinian Media Watch (PMW), where a version of this article first appeared.

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The History of the Jews of South Florida: Antisemitism, Resilience, and Hope (PART ONE)

The University of Florida campus. Photo: Wiki Commons.

The Jewish population of South Florida is about 650,000. It has the third largest concentration of Jews in the country and the single largest concentration of Jews (13 percent of the total population of South Florida) outside of Israel.

The story of Florida is a surprising one, with visions becoming dreams, and antisemitism in places we would not have expected.

Here is the history of one of the most popular Jewish vacation spots, which is home to growing, vibrant communities in Dade, Broward, and Palm Beach counties.

 

Florida’s Early History

 

In 1513, Juan Ponce de León discovered Florida for Spain, making it the first American territory to be discovered and settled. Under the Spanish Inquisition, only Catholics could live in Florida, although it is believed that Jewish Conversos were among the early settlers and soldiers of St. Augustine.

Under the Treaty of Paris in 1763, England acquired Florida from Spain, and Jews were permitted to reside there. The first-recorded Jews to settle in Florida, Alexander Solomons, Joseph D. Pallaccios, and Samuel Israel, arrived in Pensacola.

More Jews moved to northern Florida over the next few decades, though the Jewish population still comprised only a dozen individuals.

In 1783, England returned Florida to Spain. Once again under the rule of the Inquisition, Spain ordered a census that revealed Jews, including a Polish Jew, David Moses, who had a hide store in St. Augustine. Remarkably, Spain decided to allow the few Jews to remain, as the area needed settlers.

Florida became an American territory in 1821, and between 30 and 40 Jews lived in the northern part of the state.

Samuel Myers, a lawyer, settled in Pensacola in 1821. In 1822, his wife, Louisa, gave birth to Virginia Myers, the first documented Jewish child born in Florida.

 

A Vision for Florida: Moses Elias Levy

 

Moses Elias Levy was born in Morocco in 1782 to an influential Jewish merchant who served in the sultan’s court. Levy was fluent in five languages and was a man of many talents. He was a successful merchant, a social activist, an abolitionist, and a supporter of universal education.

In 1818, Levy began work on an ambitious project. His vision was to create a Jewish settlement that would give oppressed Jews from Europe an agrarian community where they could freely practice their religion and preserve their culture.

He purchased over 50,000 acres in Alachua County, Northern Florida, in 1820, which eventually grew to 100,000 acres. He constructed three properties: A sugar cane plantation on the Matanzas River, the Hope Hill plantation in present-day Astor, and Pilgrimage, a few miles from Micanopy. Levy’s dream started to come to fruition in 1823 when his business partner, Frederick Warburg, arrived with 21 settlers.

Historical roadside marker, Micanopy, Fl. (Photo by Jrryjude – Own work, Wiki Commons)

However, the community lasted only 13 years before the Second Seminole War broke out in 1835. At that point, the community dispersed.

Although it was a financial failure for Levy, it was successful in that it was the first Jewish farming settlement in the United States and created possibilities for persecuted Jews from Europe. The Jewish colony he built in Micanopy is today home to the University of Florida. In an interesting turn of history, this University has the largest Jewish population of any public university in the United States.

 

Florida Becomes a State

 

On March 3, 1845, Florida became the 27th state of the United States. Out of a population of 66,500, there were fewer than one hundred Jews living there.

Yet their numbers did not diminish their influence. Moses Levy’s son, David Levy Yulee, served as the first US Senator from Florida, making him the first Jew to serve in the US Senate. He is known as the Architect of Florida Statehood, having helped write the state’s Constitution and organizing the first cross-state railroad in 1853.

Even his very name remains associated with the state. Levy County, on the Gulf Coast in Northwest Florida, and the town of Yulee in Nassau County, are both named in David Levy Yulee’s honor.

David Levy Yulee

In the second half of the 19th century, Florida’s Jewish population continued to slowly grow, and Jacksonville was at the center of that growth. It was there that a Jewish cemetery, the first Jewish institution in Florida, was established in 1857, and the first synagogue was formed in 1876. By 1900, six congregations had been established in Northern Florida.

A 1591 map of Florida by Jacques le Moyne de Morgues.

 

The Barrier to Jewish Migration from Northern to Southern Florida: Antisemitism

 

South Florida’s Jewish community lagged behind the Northern and Central Florida Jewish communities for decades. In 1928, roughly 40 percent of the Jewish population of 10,000 lived in Jacksonville. Yet in the second half of the 20th century, Jews moved south, building communities in Miami and Miami Beach, and then spread to Broward and Palm Beach Counties.

The primary reason for the small Jewish population in South Florida was the very visible antisemitism.

It was common to see signs in Miami and Miami Beach that read “Gentiles Only” or “No Jews or Dogs.” Wealthy and influential developers, including highway builder and entrepreneur Carl G. Fisher, refused to serve Jewish customers, and oil and railroad mogul Henry Flagler (1830-1913) prohibited land sales and hotel lodgings to Jewish clients.

By the 1930s, advertisements for some of Miami Beach’s oceanfront hotels said, “Always a view, never a Jew.”

In Miami Beach, Jews were only permitted to live south of Fifth Street, as developers placed restrictive covenants in their land deeds prohibiting the sale of Miami Beach lots to Jews north of Fifth Street. Resourceful Jews made purchases of modest hotels and apartments on property south of Fifth Street, but the overall feeling was one of antisemitism.

The discriminatory laws began easing up in the 1930s and officially ended in 1949.

 

Miami’s Jewish Foundation

 

The first Jew to arrive in Miami was Samuel Singer, who migrated from northern Palm Beach in 1895.

By 1896, Jews owned 12 of the 16 businesses in the pioneer town of Miami, and the Jews held religious services in Miami that year. Yet, when the city was damaged by fire and struck with a yellow fever epidemic, the community fell apart. By 1903, the Jewish population had declined to a single person: Isidor Cohen.

In 1904, Isidor Cohen married Ida Schneidman, and when they had a son in 1907, the first documented bris was celebrated in Miami. In 1913, the death of a Jewish tourist forced the still tiny Jewish community of 35 to create the first congregation and a cemetery.

Advertising, combined with abundant land, new roads, automobiles, and commercial aviation, created a tourist and real estate boom in Miami in the 1920s. The population of 100 Jewish families grew to 3,500 during this period of prosperity. Yet, due to the Great Miami Hurricane of 1926, the stock market crash, and the failure of five local banks, the city’s population decreased significantly again.

In the mid-1930s, Jewish Miami began a steady recovery. The hotel, banking, and construction industries flourished thanks to Jewish contributions. The post-war economic boom brought additional tourists and settlers to Miami, many of whom were Jews. By 1950, there were 55,000 Jews in Miami, and in the coming decade, almost ten thousand Jews arrived yearly.

In 1952, Abe Aronovitz became Miami’s first (and, to date, the only) Jewish mayor. In 1963, the first two Jews from South Florida were elected to the state legislature, and in 1973, William Lehman (1913-2005) was elected to the United States House of Representatives for the first of 10 terms. In this period, large groups of Jews began moving to North Miami and North Miami Beach.

Initially, Jews were economically based in tourism, building industries, or real estate. Eventually, many began moving into medical, legal, and financial professions, and these trends continue to this day.

Three Jewish men, Miami, 1898. Isidore Cohen (center) is believed to be the first permanent Jewish resident of Miami. State Archives of Florida.

Rabbi Menachem Levine is the CEO of JDBY-YTT, the largest Jewish school in the Midwest. He served as Rabbi of Congregation Am Echad in San Jose, CA, from 2007 to 2020. He is a popular speaker and writes for numerous publications on Torah, Jewish History, and Contemporary Jewish Topics. Rabbi Levine’s personal website is https://thinktorah.org

A version of this article was originally published at Aish.

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In Trump’s ‘Donroe Doctrine,’ echoes of Nazi justifications for aggression

When Adolf Hitler was justifying German aggression, he invoked Lebensraum — the claim that a superior nation had the right to expand into neighboring territories to secure the resources it needed. For Donald Trump, whose “Donroe Doctrine” seems to have much in common with the idea of Lebensraum, the prizes are Venezuelan crude, Greenland’s mineral wealth, and uncontested hegemony in the Western Hemisphere.

During the first year of Trump’s second term, the 47th president of the United States attempted his own version of what Germans call Gleichschaltung — the Nazis’ forced alignment of institutions and society with Hitler’s will. Trump moved to bend the federal bureaucracy, the intelligence services, the military chain of command, and the civil service into a single, obedient apparatus.

But unlike Hitler in 1933, Trump has run into real limits at home: courts that won’t bend, Democratic-led states that won’t yield, a resistance that keeps gathering strength, weak polling, and a MAGA movement that’s beginning to splinter. And so, he has shifted his gaze to the outside world — a pivot laid bare in Stephen Miller’s volcanic interview with Jake Tapper on CNN and in Trump’s own Oval Office conversation with New York Times reporters.

Sounding a bit like Joseph Goebbels, Hitler’s right-hand man, Trump’s deputy chief of staff told Tapper, “We live in a world in which you can talk all you want about international niceties and everything else, but we live in a world, in the real world … that is governed by strength, that is governed by force, that is governed by power.”

Two days after Miller’s bellicose comments, Trump echoed the same worldview in his interview with The Times:  international law is whatever the United States — meaning he — decides it is.

“I don’t need international law,” he said. “I’m not looking to hurt people.”

Regarding his push for Greenland to become part of the U.S., Trump stated, “Ownership is very important. Because that’s what I feel is psychologically needed for success.’’

There are echoes here of Hitler, who wrote in Mein Kampf that “the stronger must dominate and not blend with the weaker.”  In multiple speeches, Hitler made clear that the state’s own interests were supreme and that international law could be brushed aside.

Trump’s foreign policy for the Western Hemisphere comes right out of the authoritarian’s playbook for domination — threats of invasion, extortion, and exploitation of a country’s weaknesses to force that country to bend to the bullying country’s will.

When it comes to Venezuela, Trump, Miller, and Secretary of State Marco Rubio are counting on Delcy Rodríguez, interim leader after Trump’s kidnapping of President Nicolás Maduro, to cooperate with the Trump administration in reviving Venezuela’s oil industry — with oil-sales money going not just to America, but supposedly also to the Venezuelan people.

Trump said that Venezuela “will be turning over” between 30 and 50 million barrels of sanctioned oil to the U.S. “This Oil will be sold at its Market Price, and that money will be controlled by me, as President of the United States of America, to ensure it is used to benefit the people of Venezuela and the United States!” he declared in a Jan. 6 social media post.

“That money,” Rubio told reporters, “will then be handled in such a way that we will control how it is disbursed in a way that benefits the Venezuelan people, not corruption, not the regime, so we have a lot of leverage to move on the stabilization front.”

The American president has not hidden the fact that his motive all along has been to get control of Venezuela’s oil reserves. Only recently, and mostly as an afterthought, has Trump talked about eventually allowing new elections in Venezuela.

In Trump’s mind, at least, he is now dictator of Venezuela.

The Trump–Rubio game plan for Venezuela, as developed so far, hinges on U.S. control of Venezuelan oil as the lever for everything else: a Washington-run “stabilization” period in which the United States sells Venezuela’s crude, controls the revenue, and dictates the terms of economic reopening; a caretaker role for Delcy Rodríguez and the remaining bureaucracy to keep order and carry out U.S. directives; and, somewhere down the line, a vague promise of elections once the country has been reshaped to Washington’s liking.

But how realistic is this plan?

History offers plenty of warnings about how often great-power fantasies collide with the realities of occupation.

When Nazi Germany invaded Norway in 1940, one of its aims was to control Scandinavian resources — including Swedish iron ore and Norwegian shipping routes. Norwegian fascist Vidkun Quisling proclaimed himself head of the government, becoming a puppet of Berlin.

But Quisling never delivered the stability Berlin expected. His government was despised, resistance spread, and the occupation became far more volatile and costly than the Germans had planned. After the war, those who had collaborated with the Nazis paid dearly. Thousands of Norwegians were convicted and 25 — including Vidkun Quisling — were executed.

Venezuela is not Norway. But the assumption that a hand-picked local leader will quietly manage a country whose sovereignty has just been shattered is a dangerous one. Venezuela is thick with armed actors who may see cooperation with Washington as betrayal — heavily armed pro-government paramilitary groups called the colectivos, splintering factions of the military, and a constellation of irregular forces operating along the borders.

For the moment, Trump insists no American boots will be needed on the ground. But that could change quickly, especially if U.S. companies establish a significant presence at Venezuelan oil facilities and an insurgency threatens to topple what many Venezuelans may view as a collaborationist regime in Caracas.

In his interview with The New York Times, Trump said it could take years before Venezuela becomes the stable, petroleum powerhouse he envisions. Which means that U.S. control of Venezuela — however the White House chooses to describe it — will pass to whoever succeeds him as president.

Whatever the outcome of Trump’s Venezuela power grab, the troubles it will unlease may well persist far into the future. And if Trump continues to rattle sabers over Greenland, the consequences could be even direr, raising the specter of Denmark’s NATO allies mobilizing to defend the island against the ambitions of an American president.

 

The post In Trump’s ‘Donroe Doctrine,’ echoes of Nazi justifications for aggression appeared first on The Forward.

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