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In Turkey, a festival revives a jewel of the Sephardic world and aims to break stereotypes

IZMIR, Turkey (JTA) — Prague has the dubious honor of being chosen by Adolf Hitler to be a record of what he hoped would be the vanquished Jews of Europe. The Nazis left many of the city’s synagogues and Jewish sites relatively intact, intending to showcase them as the remnants of an extinct culture.

That has made Prague a popular tourist destination for both Jewish travelers and others interested in Jewish history since the fall of the Iron Curtain: the city provides an uncommon look into the pre-war infrastructure of Ashkenazi Europe.

Could Izmir, Turkey’s third largest city, become a Sephardic version, in terms of history and tourism? That’s the goal for Nesim Bencoya, director of the Izmir Jewish Heritage project. 

The city, once known in Greek as Smyrna, has had a Jewish presence since antiquity, with early church documents mentioning Jews as far back as the second century AD. Like elsewhere in the Ottoman Empire, though, its community grew exponentially with the influx of Sephardic Jews who came after their expulsion from Spain. 

At its peak, the city was home to around 30,000 Jews and was the hometown of Jewish artists, writers and rabbis — from the esteemed Pallache and Algazii rabbinical families, to the musician Dario Marino, to the famously false messiah, Shabbetai Zevi, whose childhood home still stands in Izmir today. 

Today, fewer than 1,300 remain. The establishment of the state of Israel, coupled with a century of economic and political upheaval, led to the immigration of the majority of Turkish Jewry. 

“From the 17th century, Izmir was a center for Sephardic Jewry,” Bencoya told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. “We can’t recreate that, but we cannot forget that either.”

Izmir is located on Turkey’s Aegean coast. (David I. Klein)

Celebrating in the former Jewish quarter

Bencoya, who is in his late 60s, was born in Izmir but spent most of his adult life in Israel, where he led the Haifa Cinematheque, but he returned to Izmir 13 years ago to helm the heritage project, which has worked to highlight the the culture and history of Izmir’s Jewish community.

Over nine days in December that included the week of Hanukkah, thousands attended the annual Sephardic culture festival that he has organized since 2018. The festival included concerts of Jewish and Ladino music, traditional food tastings, lectures on Izmir’s Jewish community, and — since it coincided with Hanukkah and also a Shabbat — both a menorah lighting ceremony and havdalah ceremony were conducted with explanations from Izmir’s leading cantor, Nesim Beruchiel. 

This year’s festival marked a turning point: it was the first in which organizers were able to show off several of the centuries-old synagogues that the project — with funding from the European Union and the local municipality — has been restoring. 

The synagogues, most of which are clustered around a street still called Havra Sokak (havra being the Turkish spelling of the Hebrew word chevra, or congregation) represent a unique piece of cultural heritage. 

Nesim Bencoya speaks from his office next to the restored Sinyora Synagogue in Izmir. (David I. Klein)

Once upon a time, the street was the heart of the Jewish quarter or “Juderia,” but today it is right in the middle of Izmir’s Kemeralti Bazaar, a bustling market district stretching over 150 acres where almost anything can be bought and sold. On Havra Sokak, the merchants hock fresh fruits, and hopefully fresher fish. One street to the south one can find all manner of leather goods; one to the north has markets for gold, silver and other precious metals; one to the west has coffee shops. In between them all are other shops selling everything from crafts to tchotchkes to kitchenware to lingerie. 

Several mosques and a handful of churches dot the area, but the synagogues revive a unique character of the district that had been all but lost.  

“The synagogues here were built under the light of Spain. But in Spain today, there are only two major historic synagogues, Toledo and Cordoba, and they are big ones. You don’t have smaller ones. Here we have six on one block, built with the memory of what was there by those who left Spain,” Bencoya said. 

Those synagogues have been home to major events in Jewish history — such as when Shabbetei Zvi broke into Izmir’s Portuguese Synagogue one Sabbath morning, drove out his opponents and declared himself the messiah (he cultivated a large following but was later imprisoned and forced to convert to Islam). The synagogue, known in Turkish as Portekez, was among those restored by the project. 

Today, only two of Izmir’s synagogues are in regular use by its Jewish community, but the others that were restored are now available as exhibition and event spaces. 

Educating non-Jews

Hosting the festival within Izmir’s unique synagogues has an additional purpose, since the overwhelming majority of the attendees were not Jewish. 

“Most of the people who come to the festival have never been to a synagogue, maybe a small percentage of them have met a Jew once in their lives,” Bencoya said. 

That’s particularly important in a country where antisemitic beliefs are far from uncommon. In a 2015 study by the Anti-Defamation League, 71% of respondents from Turkey believe in some antisemitic stereotypes

The festival included concerts of Jewish and Ladino music, traditional food tastings and lectures on Izmir’s Jewish community.(David I. Klein)

“This festival is not for Jewish people to know us, but for non-Jews,” Bencoya said. Now, “Hundreds of Turkish Muslim people have come to see us, to listen to our holidays and taste what we do.”

Kayra Ergen, a native of Izmir who attended a Ladino concert and menorah lighting event at the end of the festival, told JTA that until a year ago, he had no idea how Jewish Izmir once was. 

“I know that Anatolia is a multicultural land, and also Turkey is, but this religion, by which I mean Jewish people, left this place a long time ago because of many bad events. But it’s good to remember these people, and their roots in Izmir,” Ergen said. “This is so sad and lame to say out loud, but I didn’t know about this — that only 70 years ago, 60% of this area here in Konak [the district around Kemeralti] was Jewish. Today I believe only 1,300 remain. This is not good. But we must do whatever we can and this festival is a good example of showing the love between cultures.”

“I think it’s good that we’re respecting each other in here,” said Zeynep Uslu, another native of Izmir. “A lot of different cultures and a lot of different people. It’s good that we’re together here celebrating something so special.”

Izmir’s history as a home for minorities has not been all rosy. At the end of the Ottoman period, the city was around half Greek, a tenth Jewish and a tenth Armenian, while the remainder were Turkish Muslims and an assortment of foreigners. In the Greco-Turkish war of 1919-1922 — remembered in Turkey as the Turkish War of Independence — the Greek and Armenian quarters of Izmir were burned to the ground after the Turkish army retook the city from the Greek forces, killing tens of thousands. A mass exodus of the survivors followed, but the Jewish and Muslim portions of the city were largely unharmed.

Izmir is not the only city in Turkey which has seen its synagogues restored in recent years. Notable projects are being completed in Edirne, a city on the Turkish western border near Bulgaria, and Kilis, on its southeastern border near Syria. Unlike Izmir, though, no Jews remain in either of those cities today, and many have accused the project of being a tool for President Recep Tayyip Erdogan’s government to assuage accusations of antisemitism, without actually dealing with living Jews. 

Losing Ladino and a ‘quiet’ mindset

Bencoya lamented that he is among the last generation for whom Ladino — the Judeo-Spanish language traditionally spoken by Sephardic Jews, but only spoken by tens of thousands today — was at least a part of his childhood. 

“When you lose language, it’s not only technical, it’s not only vocabulary, it’s a whole world and a way of thinking,” Bencoya said. 

The project is challenging a local Jewish mentality as well. Minority groups in Izmir, especially Jews, “have for a long time preferred not to be seen, not to be felt,” according to Bencoya.

That mindset has been codified in the Turkish Jewish community’s collective psyche in the form of a Ladino word, “kayedes,” which means something along the lines of “shhh,” “be quiet,” or “keep your head down.”

“This is the exact opposite that I want to do with this festival — to be felt, to raise awareness of my being,” Bencoya said. 

The Bikur Holim Synagogue is one of the few still functioning in Izmir. (David I. Klein)

One way of doing that, he added, was having the festival refer to the community’s identity “as Yahudi and not Musevi!” Both are Turkish words that refer to Jews: the former having the same root as the English word Jew — the Hebrew word Yehuda or Judea — while the latter means “follower of Moses.”

“Yahudi, Musevi, Ibrani [meaning Hebrew, in Turkish] — they all mean the same thing, but in Turkey, they say Musevi because it sounds nicer,” Bencoya said. “To Yahudi there are a lot of negative superlatives — dirty Yahudi, filthy Yahudi, and this and that. So I insist on saying that I am Yahudi, because people have a lot of pre-judgements about the name Yahudi. So if you have prejudgements about me, let’s open them and talk about them.”

“I am not so romantic that I can eliminate all antisemitism, but if I can eliminate some of the prejudgements, then I can live a little more at peace,” he added.

So far, he feels the festival is a successful first step. 

“The non-Jewish community of Izmir is fascinated,” Bencoya said. “If you look on Facebook and Instagram, they are talking about it, they are fighting over tickets, which sell out almost immediately.” 

Now, he is only wondering how next year he will be able to fit more people into the small and aged synagogues. 

“For Turkey, [the festival] is very important because Turkey can be among the enlightened nations of the world, only by being aware of the differences between groups of people, such as Jews, Christians, others, and Muslims,” he said.


The post In Turkey, a festival revives a jewel of the Sephardic world and aims to break stereotypes appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.

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Amnesty International Refuses to Admit That Hamas Wants to Kill All Jews and Annihilate Israel

Illustration with the logo of Amnesty International on the vest of an observer of a demonstration in Paris, France, Paris, on Dec. 11, 2021. Photo: Xose Bouzas / Hans Lucas via Reuters Connect

In its nearly 200-page report on the worst massacre of Jews since the Holocaust, “Targeting Civilians: Murder, Hostage-Taking and Other Violations by Palestinian Armed Groups in Israel and Gaza,” Amnesty International omitted years of statements by Hamas leaders and language from its charter demonstrating genocidal intent against Jews.

This omission renders Amnesty’s account of the Oct. 7, 2023, attack fundamentally flawed — because it disregards strong evidence of Hamas’ genocidal intent and distorts both the nature of the massacre and Israel’s response.

According to the former Deputy Director of Amnesty’s now defunct Israel branch, Yariv Mohar, this report on Hamas’ attack was delayed by eight months. It had already been nearly finalized by the same time the organization released its December 2024 report, titled, “‘You Feel Like You Are Subhuman’: Israel’s Genocide Against Palestinians in Gaza.”

The organization, according to Mohar, told Israeli staff that the two reports would be published within weeks of one another.

According to Mohar, Amnesty delayed the Hamas report to keep the focus on Gaza, fearing that highlighting Hamas’ atrocities would undermine efforts to end the war. Mohar added that this was driven by a belief that Western audiences prefer a simplified moral narrative, and also because of Amnesty’s fear of backlash from its ultra-radical activist base.

Notably, the non-profit’s substantially longer Gaza report in 2024 used several out-of-context and debunked quotes by Israeli leaders to portray them as having genocidal intent.

Conversely, Amnesty’s treatment of Hamas sharply downplays the terror group’s own explicit ideology and objectives.

Hamas’ charter calls for the complete destruction of Israel as a condition for the liberation of Palestine, achieved through holy war (jihad). The charter specifically states that Hamas’ “struggle” is “against the Jews.”

This charter was never renounced by any of Hamas’ leaders, who have consistently called for the destruction of Israel and the Jewish people in speeches before Oct. 7, 2023, and afterwards, pledging to commit the same atrocities in the future until Israel meets its demise.

Slain Hamas leader Yahya Sinwar was recorded in Apr. 2018, saying, “We will take down the border [with Israel] and we will tear out their hearts from their bodies,” in reference to Israelis. 

“Seven million Palestinians outside — enough warming up — you have Jews with you in every place. You should attack every Jew possible in all the world and kill them,” official Fathi Hammad said in July 2019. Hammad, in May 2021, called on Jerusalemites to “cut off the heads of the Jews with knives.”

Official Ghazi Hamad, on Oct. 24, 2023, declared that Israel must be eliminated and vowed repeated October 7s: “[N]obody should blame us for the things we do. On October 7, October 10, October 1,000,000 — everything we do is justified.”

In Jan. 2024, official Bassem Na’im wrote in Al Jazeera that the October 7 attack was a “scaled-down model of the final war of liberation and the disappearance of the Zionist occupation.” 

While the Amnesty report includes some quotes by Hamas officials calling on Palestinians to attack Israelis, the report fails to mention the terror group’s official statements and charter — and omits that their raison d’etre is to kill Jews and wipe out Israel. 

The organization also featured statements by Mohammed Deif saying that Hamas had launched the Oct. 7 attacks to end Israel’s military occupation and “its crimes,” as well as an Oct. 7 statement by Saleh Al-Arouri, then Deputy Head of the Political Bureau of Hamas, who indicated that the aims of the attacks were the liberation of the Palestinian people, breaking the siege on Gaza, stopping settlement expansion, and freeing Palestinian prisoners from Israeli prisons. 

The quotes chosen by Amnesty to be featured in the report indicate that Hamas carried out the massacre for political and nationalist purposes. That is not true.

This cherry-picking sanitizes Hamas’ true motives, which are documented, consistent, and official, and leads readers to misunderstand why the massacre occurred. 

Hamas’ 1988 charter describes its struggle against Jews as “extremely wide-ranging and grave” and calls on the Arab and Islamic world to support jihad against these “enemies.” It argues that Israel’s Jewish character contradicts Islam and must therefore be eliminated.

Without acknowledging Hamas’ ideology and intent, Amnesty’s legal conclusions — especially its accusations against Israel — rest on incomplete information.

October 7, 2023, was not merely a tactical or political attack, but part of an openly stated campaign to eliminate Israel. By omitting this context, Amnesty undermines its own account of October 7 and produces an unsound report.

Darcie Grunblatt is a US Media Researcher for CAMERA (Committee for Accuracy in Middle East Reporting in America).

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Israel Is Not a Cause to Me, It Is My Compass

People stand outside the International Criminal Court (ICC) as the United States is considering imposing sanctions as soon as this week against the entire International Criminal Court, in The Hague, Netherlands, Sept. 22, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Piroschka van de Wouw

I am a pro-Israel advocate in the Netherlands with Jewish roots, and my connection to Israel is not ideologically fashionable or politically convenient.

My connection to Israel is personal, inherited, and lived. Israel has shaped my identity since childhood, long before hashtags, before October 7, and before defending Israel became socially dangerous in Europe again.

On my father’s side, my family came from Poland. They fled rising antisemitism, passed through what is now the Czech Republic, and eventually ended up in the Netherlands around 1900. On my mother’s side, the story is fragmented and partly lost by design. My grandfather was involved in resistance work during World War II, and secrecy was a survival strategy that carried over long after the war ended.

When my parents later lived in the Middle East, they voluntarily assisted Israeli intelligence. They could move freely because of a white card, and they chose to help. That choice mattered. It shaped how I was raised and what I understood early on: Israel was never an abstract state to me. It was a responsibility.

For many years, Israel viewed the Netherlands as an ally. In hindsight, that belief was painfully naïve. The historical record tells a far more uncomfortable story.

During the Nazi occupation, only a tiny fraction of the Dutch population actively resisted. Roughly 45,000 people, about half a percent, were engaged in active resistance. Even using a broad definition, only around five percent could be considered supporters of resistance. At the same time, approximately 425,000 people were investigated for collaboration. The rest of the population largely chose silence. They looked away as Jews were rounded up, deported, and murdered. Some actively helped the occupiers. Most did nothing.

That history reveals a national instinct that never truly disappeared. After October 7, the mask finally slipped. The genie came out of the bottle, and what followed was an explosion of antisemitism, often disguised as “anti-Zionism” — because open antisemitism is officially forbidden in the Netherlands. What spread through society did so faster and more aggressively than any virus I have ever witnessed.

For me, the consequences were immediate and deeply personal. Walking through Amsterdam became a nightmare. People recognized me from weekly Israel support actions and felt emboldened to curse, threaten, and intimidate me. I refused to hide my Star of David necklace, but I watched others quietly tuck away their Jewish symbols for safety. That image still haunts me.

I lost my job shortly after October 7. On November 3, 2023, I was asked a seemingly innocent question at work: “What is your favorite vacation destination?” I answered honestly: Israel. That answer cost me my livelihood.

As I searched for new work, recruiters demanded that I shut down my LinkedIn company page, which at the time had around 90,000 followers. The reason was obvious. I refused. As a result, my chances of employment collapsed. I was rejected repeatedly — and explicitly — because of my visible pro-Israel stance.

Because my company was registered at my home address, the harassment followed me there. Eggs were thrown against my windows. A dead pigeon was left at my door in a bag. I received threats, online and offline, telling me I would be gassed.

These were not anonymous global trolls. This was my reality in the Netherlands.

Social media platforms, especially LinkedIn under Microsoft’s ownership, played a disgraceful role. Pro-Israel voices and Jewish advocates who spoke factual truths were targeted, restricted, or silenced, while open Nazi rhetoric, incitement, and fabricated “Pallywood” narratives were allowed to spread with impunity. The message was clear: Jewish safety and truth were expendable.

The years since 2023 have taken a severe toll on my mental health. Depression, exhaustion, and a deep alienation from Dutch society became constants. At the same time, my longing for Israel intensified. Eventually, I made a decision that felt inevitable: I would try to live and work for Israel full time. I began the Aliyah process, believing that my commitment, experience, and lifelong dedication would matter.

They did not.

Because I can only provide indirect proof of my Jewish roots, and because I refuse to convert to Judaism for the wrong reasons, my path to Aliyah has been blocked. The Jewish Agency declined to consider special circumstances. I wrote letters to the President’s office, to the Prime Minister, and to other officials. I reached out again and again.

From the Israeli side, I received silence. No response. No explanation. Only closed doors.

That silence broke something in me. Not because I feel entitled, but because I know, without arrogance, that I could contribute more to Israel than many others. I am not driven by religion; I have none. I am not driven by political camps or prejudices. I am driven by loyalty, truth, and responsibility.

Israel is not a trend to me. It is not negotiable. It is not conditional. It is my priority, always. Even when the world turns hostile. Even when allies reveal themselves to be illusions. Even when the doors I knock on remain closed.

I will not stop standing with Israel. History has taught me what silence does. I refuse to repeat it.

Sabine Sterk is CEO of Time To Stand Up For Israel.

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How Maduro’s Arrest Became Another Anti-Israel Campaign

A demonstrator uses a megaphone during a protest against US military action in Venezuela, at Lafayette Square in front of the White House, following US President Donald Trump’s announcement that the US military has struck Venezuela and captured its President Nicolas Maduro and his wife Cilia Flores, in Washington, D.C., U.S., January 3, 2026. Photo: REUTERS/Tyrone Siu

Following the US military operation in Venezuela on Saturday, January 3, international attention quickly turned to the arrest of President Nicolás Maduro. While the development was widely viewed as a major geopolitical moment, reactions were far from uniform.

There was cautious optimism from many, and even those who expressed doubts as to the way in which Maduro was apprehended at least acknowledged the Venezuelan leader’s myriad shortcomings.

As always, one group of people was in no mood to celebrate. Quite the opposite.

The pro-Palestinian left online could not help but feel in absolute disarray after the news of the arrest broke, not out of humility, but because they vehemently disagreed with Maduro’s arrest — and sought to place the blame upon Israel.

Maduro was a known dictator responsible for many human rights abuses. Beyond its domestic repression, Maduro’s Venezuela played a consequential role on the international stage. Under his leadership, the country forged close ties with the Iranian regime and its proxies, offering military, financial, and political cooperation that extended far beyond symbolic diplomacy. It allowed Hezbollah to expand its global footprint in South America, directly posing a threat to US interests and security.

Still, these facts were either blatantly ignored or outright dismissed as Israeli propaganda by the pro-Palestinian online activist community. This is not surprising, considering the same accounts that are against Maduro’s arrest have also been outspoken supporters of the Islamic Republic and Hamas.

Israel as the Default Culprit

Podcast host Jake Shields claimed that the American military operation was launched “on behalf of Israel,” echoing a familiar trope that frames nearly every American foreign policy decision as Israeli-driven.

He has previously gone further, asserting that “Iran is making the world a safer place,” effectively minimizing the Iranian regime’s documented role in sponsoring terrorism, destabilizing regional governments, and advancing nuclear ambitions.

In that same regard, Bushra Shaikh, a social and political commentator, has, in the past, effectively shilled for Hamas, saying the atrocities committed on October 7, 2023, “were exaggerated by the Israeli government to garner public support for their incoming mass slaughter of Palestinians.”

In the aftermath of the American military operation, she ecstatically called for Iran to “build that nuke,” endorsing the proliferation of a regime that openly calls for Israel’s destruction.

Naturally, Israel being blamed for the US Venezuelan operation was bound to occur. Podcaster Candace Owens adhered to this unspoken anti-Israel rule online, claiming that the “Zionists cheer every regime change,” including in Venezuela, “because it means they get to steal land, oil and other resources.”

Yet, the reactions did not remain confined only to the influencer sphere. It quickly migrated into institutional and political spaces, where comparisons to Israel and calls for action against its political leadership were advanced.

UN Special Rapporteur Francesca Albanese referred to Maduro’s arrest as a “lethal blow” to international law in the same sentence as calling for the arrest of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. Such equivalence blurs critical legal and moral distinctions, undermining the credibility of international legal norms by applying them selectively.

Moreover, the comparison between diplomatically elected Netanyahu and a dictator who has been involved in narcoterrorism is a profound distortion of reality.

Likewise, CODEPINK, a radical left-wing organization that has previously visited Iran to meet with members of the Iranian regime on a so-called “peace delegation,” referred to Maduro as a “democratically elected leader of a sovereign nation,” and Netanyahu as none other than a “wanted war criminal committing genocide.”

Newly inaugurated New York Mayor Zohran Mamdani remarked that Maduro’s arrest was an “act of war” and the “blatant pursuit of regime change” also impacts New Yorkers. Ironically, Mamdani has vowed to arrest Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu if he sets foot in New York.

The Pro-Palestinian–Pro-Maduro Convergence

Maduro’s arrest has also been framed through the same ideological lens used to oppose Israel. The Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions (BDS) movement exemplified this convergence, calling for “collective solidarity against the genocidal US-Israel axis.” By grouping Venezuela into a familiar anti-Israel narrative, BDS effectively recast a dictatorship that partook in narcoterrorism as part of a broader struggle of resisting “colonial violence.”

That Maduro has been featured by Al Jazeera is telling, considering the network’s history of anti-Israel coverage and its employees’ links to terrorist groups, including Hamas, which likewise condemned his arrest. Qatar, which funds the outlet, also condemned Maduro’s arrest.

This crossover between pro-Palestinian activism and pro-Maduro apologism demonstrates how ideological allegiance, rather than genuine concern for human rights or democratic values, increasingly dictates which leaders are condemned and which are defended.

Taken together, these reactions feed into a broader and deeply entrenched myth that Israel controls global politics, and by extension, the US. In casting Israel as the ultimate villain, the anti-Israel community has enabled the defense of dictators, the rationalization of terrorism, and outright ignorance of authoritarian alliances.

The author is a contributor to HonestReporting, a Jerusalem-based media watchdog with a focus on antisemitism and anti-Israel bias — where a version of this article first appeared.

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