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Is there life after Lubavitch?
Schneur Zalman Newfield knows as well as anyone what it takes to leave Orthodoxy. In his new memoir, Brooklyn Odyssey, he likens his transformation from Hasidic to secular to a butterfly’s metamorphosis. “At one stage it is clearly a caterpillar; at another it is a butterfly. But when exactly did it shift from one organism to the other?” he asks. When exactly does a Hasidic Jew become someone who prays with egalitarian minyans and protests with Jews for Racial and Economic Justice?
Newfield, a 44-year-old sociology professor at Hunter College, has been asking that very question for years. For his first book, Degrees of Separation: Identity Formation While Leaving Ultra-Orthodox Judaism, Newfield interviewed 74 ex-Lubavitch and ex-Satmar Hasidic Jews to analyze what it means to leave Orthodoxy. Brooklyn Odyssey brings that sociological scrutiny to Newfield’s own life.
But the memoir is much more readable than the academic book that preceded it. Newfield renders vividly what it’s like to be an 11-year-old boy running amok in Crown Heights, the nerve center of the Lubavitch Hasidic universe, while rebbe Menachem Mendel Schneerson, the lionized leader of that community, was still alive. He also captures the feelings of a twentysomething ex-Hasidic virgin at Brooklyn College. After his mom reacts coldly to the news that he has shaved his beard, Newfield writes that he “felt like a Lubavitch mitzvah tank, one of those converted Winnebagos, had just rolled over my chest.”
I spoke with Newfield to see how he views the risk factors for leaving Orthodoxy, and how the Haredi world’s treatment of these people might be changing. The following conversation has been edited for length and clarity.
Lauren Hakimi: There are already so many memoirs out there about people’s journeys off the derech [out of Orthodoxy]. What did you think was missing from the OTD genre?
Schneur Zalman Newfield: None of the memoirs that are out there really captured the experience of growing up in the Lubavitch community, especially the Lubavitch boys’ environment.
Also, OTD memoirs tend to describe growing up in a very geographically constrained area. My experience is very different from that. A big part of my experience in Lubavitch was traveling around the world doing outreach work. Being exposed to the world and grappling with an awareness of other people was a big part of my process of leaving the community. There’s whole chapters in the book on my experiences visiting Russia, living in Singapore, living in China, living in Argentina.
Most of the OTD memoirs describe very stark breaks with people’s families once people left the community. In my last book, Degrees of Separation, I found that many people who grew up Lubavitch and Satmar who left the Hasidic community still maintained ties with their family. Sometimes those are very painful ties, but still, they are ties. That’s very much my own experience. A big part of my process of deciding to leave the community was complicated by the fact that I had a very loving and warm relationship with my family.
Lubavitch is as strict as other ultra-Orthodox sects, but its emphasis on kiruv [missionary work to encourage non-Orthodox Jews to become Orthodox] exposes Hasidim to secular Jews at young ages. How did your international travels affect your exit journey?
I was profoundly influenced by the people that I encountered. Especially in my late teens, my early 20s, once I was already reading a lot of secular books secretly on my own, I was very interested to learn more about the outside world. I think that really opened up new vistas for me that had I stayed in Crown Heights would have been much more difficult, if not impossible, for me to access.
In the very beginning of the book, there’s a photo of you and your family at your daughter’s bat mitzvah. Why was it important for you to include that?
A part of what I’m trying to convey is the fact that there is life after people leave the community. The narrative within the ultra-Orthodox community is that ‘we have such a great life, and we know the truth, and if anyone is crazy enough to leave the community, their life is doomed, and they’ll all become drug addicts.’
This is a propaganda message that the community employs in order to scare people and prevent them from even thinking of trying to leave. Many people who leave the community, yes, they face challenges, but many, if not most of the people who decide to leave the community eventually find their way in the broader society and are able to establish healthy and meaningful lives on the outside.
I wanted to highlight that about my own experience. Yes, there were real challenges, and that’s certainly part of what I talk about: the mental health issues I struggled with, the challenges related to maintaining a loving relationship with my family. At the same time, I was able to establish a healthy and meaningful life on the outside.
In Degrees of Separation, you draw a distinction between intellectual and emotional reasons for leaving Orthodoxy, but in your memoir, the intellectual and emotional seem to come together, like when your sadness over your younger brother Shimmy’s death makes you question God. I’m wondering how you view those two factors in the context of your own path.
To be clear, even in Degrees of Separation, I argue that everyone who leaves the community has both intellectual and social-emotional reasons for doing so. It’s simply a question of which of these aspects of their experience they tend to focus on. Most people tended to focus on one versus the other. This is not the full picture. The people who were talking about their intellectual disagreements with the community also experienced some kind of disenchantment or social-emotional issues related to their community. Same thing for people who talked about their social-emotional reasons for leaving.
When I thought about leaving, and then even after I left, when I thought about my experience of leaving, I did tend to describe it in intellectualist terms. In fact, early on when we were dating, my now wife asked me if Shimmy’s death played a role in my experience of leaving. I said, ‘No, I don’t think that that had anything to do with it.’
Only years later, after I was doing my academic work and thinking much more rigorously about all of these issues, did I realize that Shimmy’s death had a profound influence on my religious evolution. That, and the death of the Lubavitcher rebbe, who we were taught to believe was the messiah.
After you shave your beard, your mom sends you and your brother to a rabbi who tries to convince you to become more religious again. As someone who researches journeys out of Orthodoxy, what do you make of that intervention?
It is very common for parents, relatives, neighbors, to try to connect the person who’s thinking of leaving with some rabbi whose mission is to quote-unquote straighten the person out. In a sense, it’s kind of remarkable that there was only one intervention in my case.
Sometimes, these interventions are carried out under the guise of mental health. There’s a therapist, a psychologist, a social worker, or someone who doesn’t have any mental health training but purports to be a mental health professional. They often basically argue that for your own mental health, it would be best if you would come back to Orthodoxy.
The rabbi I was sent to had been my teacher for several years. When I had him as a teacher, I thought that he was this brilliant guy, charming and charismatic. But when it came to this interaction, where he was basically trying to convince me to remain Orthodox, he was very plebeian in terms of the arguments that he was making, and his general attitude of disdain for me, for non-Orthodox forms of Judaism, and for secular knowledge in general.
Do you think that if you were going OTD today, as opposed to 20 years ago, the Orthodox net might have done a better job trying to catch you?
I think the ultra-Orthodox community has become more aware of the fact that large numbers of their members are leaving and that they need to do a better job of trying to respond to it.
Each individual religious community responds in a somewhat different way. So it’s hard to make generalizations, but it definitely seems that the ultra-Orthodox community is trying to respond to this issue in a more sensitive and thoughtful and humane way than they were doing, let’s say, 20 or 30 years ago.
Me and other scholars have also noted a rise of quote-unquote ‘modern’ ultra-Orthodox people.
I sometimes stay in Crown Heights for Shabbos with my family and go to shul with one of my brothers in law. I go to this one particular shul, and there’s a bunch of people who have trim beards, or something’s going on with their beards, not quite the way nature intended. They’re going to shul every Shabbos, they send their children to Lubavitch schools. In a lot of significant ways, they’re enmeshed in the community, and they’re recognized as being full-fledged members of the community, yet they’re living a kind of Lubavitch lite.
So yes, I think if I was leaving today, or if I was living in the community today, it’s hard to say exactly how things would end up. But I didn’t grow up in the community today. I grew up in the community 30 years ago, and my story is my story.
The post Is there life after Lubavitch? appeared first on The Forward.
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Top PLO, Fatah Officials: Hamas Should Join Us, No Need to Disarm
Hamas police officers stand guard, amid a ceasefire between Israel and Hamas, in Gaza City, Oct. 11, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Stringer
The Palestinian Authority (PA) appears eager to hijack the Board of Peace’s UN Security Council-approved administration of Gaza and unite with Hamas to control the Strip themselves, according to comments made by a top PLO official in a new interview documented by Palestinian Media Watch.
According to Egyptian reports, PLO Executive Committee Secretary Azzam Al-Ahmad has been in Cairo meeting with Hamas and Palestinian Islamic Jihad:
Two informed Palestinian sources said Azzam Al-Ahmad, the secretary-general of the PLO Executive Committee, held talks in Cairo with faction leaders including Hamas and Islamic Jihad about the two movements joining the PLO.
[Manassa.news (Egypt), Feb. 22, 2026]
Officials from the governing PA and its parent political body the Palestine Liberation Organization have been making repeated overtures to Hamas to join the PLO.
In November 2025, Fatah Central Committee Secretary Jibril Rajoub called on Egyptian help to “bridge the gaps” between Fatah and Hamas so they can unite against Israel.
The previous month, PA Chairman Mahmoud Abbas’ Advisor Mahmoud Al-Habbash declared “our hands are extended, and our hearts are open to rapprochement with Hamas.”
The implicit hope behind the unity push is that move might satisfy international demands for Hamas to relinquish control of Gaza. Back in October, Al-Habbash said that Hamas needed to disarm, but clearly the PA position has since softened. As a sweetener for Hamas to agree to join the PLO, the PLO says it is now ready to appease the terror group by allowing it to keep its weapons and remain an armed force on the ground.
The PA and PLO are aware that to legitimize absorbing Hamas into the PLO, Hamas – the perpetrators of the largest massacre of Jews since the Holocaust – must also be laundered of the stigma of being defined as a terror organization.
During al-Ahmad’s visit, he was interviewed by an Egyptian newspaper, tacitly confirming his mission:
They [US President Donald Trump and the Board of Peace] do not want Hamas to play any role in the Gaza Strip, and we reject this completely, because Hamas is part of the Palestinian national activity. It is true that it has not yet joined the PLO, but we are in a constant national dialogue with them to complete what is required for their entry into the PLO. Therefore, all talk about disarming Hamas and it being a terror organization is unacceptable to us, because Hamas is not a terror organization. [emphasis added]
[Shorouk News (Egyptian paper), Feb. 23, 2026]
The immediate follow-up question in the interview was seen as so important by Al-Ahmad that he made it into a post for his Facebook page:
Shorouk News’ Mohammed Khayal: “You mean clearly that you in the PLO do not view Hamas as a terror organization?”
Azzam Al-Ahmad: “We have never viewed it as a terror organization, and we always oppose when a decision is made by any international institution or any government classifying them as a terror organization, because they are part of the Palestinian national fabric.”
[Azzam Al-Ahmed’s Facebook page, Feb. 23, 2026]
Lest anyone thought that Al-Ahmad had misspoken, his strong statement was soon backed by Rajoub:
“Fatah Central Committee [Secretary and] member Jibril Rajoub emphasized that [PLO Executive Committee member] Azzam Al-Ahmad did not err in defending the weapons of the Hamas Movement and stating that it is part of the Palestinian national fabric.”
[Shahed, independent Palestinian news website, Feb. 24, 2026]
Meanwhile, without referencing Al-Ahmad directly, Fatah Movement Central Committee member Abbas Zaki doubled down on the renewed push for unity with the Islamist terror groups.
“Fatah Movement Central Committee member Abbas Zaki emphasized that national dialogue among Palestinian factions, foremost among them Hamas and Islamic Jihad, constitutes a ‘necessary path and an urgent national need… The real enemy of this unity is the Israeli occupation, and those who stand behind it politically and militarily, foremost among them the US, which is working to rearrange the region in a way that will serve Israel’s sovereignty at the expense of the Arab and Islamic rights.’”
[Sanad News, independent Palestinian news agency, Feb. 26, 2026]
Statements like these are nothing new for PA or PLO officials, who have been making overtures to Hamas for years. Yet the timing and stridency of this particular effort is everything, as it seeks to directly undermine the Trump-brokered ceasefire agreement and Gaza reconstruction plan based on the establishment of a technocratic government.
A technocratic government, to be known as the National Committee for the Administration of Gaza (NCAG), was chosen as the most effective way to begin to restore services to Gazans, and that makes sense. It provides the administrative structure to deliver essential services while at the same time depriving oxygen to any resumption of warfare against Israel from the territory – at least the parts of Gaza that Hamas no longer controls.
While the PA has decided to go along with the plan, a recent letter from PA Vice Chairman Hussein Al-Sheikh welcoming a PA liaison office with the NCAG stressed the PA’s expectation that this was all just a “transitional” prelude to PA control.
“These constitute practical transitional steps that contribute to alleviating the suffering of our people and providing administrative and security services, without creating administrative, legal, or security duality among our people in Gaza and the West Bank, and while reinforcing the principle of one system, one law, and one legitimate authority over arms.”
[WAFA, official PA news agency, English edition, Feb. 21, 2026]
In the PA’s mindset, whatever moves can hasten the end of this transition, the better, as the notion of suspending conflict with Israel in any Palestinian-populated area even temporarily is anathema to the PLO and Hamas alike.
As evidenced by Al-Ahmad’s latest remarks and others, the PA and PLO have no problem whatsoever with Hamas’ zeal for terrorism – but only appear to differ with the Islamist terror group on who gets to decide when and how it is used.
The author is a contributor to Palestinian Media Watch, where a version of this article first appeared.
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Israel Did Not Drag the US Into War
US President Donald Trump speaks with White House Chief of Staff Susie Wiles and Secretary of State Marco Rubio during military operations in Iran, at Trump’s Mar-a-Lago resort in Palm Beach, Florida, US. February 28, 2026. The White House/Social Media/Handout via REUTERS
“If anything, I might have forced Israel’s hand,” President Donald Trump exclaimed to a journalist on March 3. He was answering a question posed by ABC News Senior Political Correspondent Rachel Scott, who had just asked the Commander in Chief whether Israel had “pulled the United States into war.”
“Based on the way the negotiation [with Iran] was going, I think they were going to attack first,” Trump replied. “And I didn’t want that to happen.”
The President is completely right.
After a sound bite from Secretary of State Marco Rubio went viral, many on the isolationist right and the pro-Palestinian, “anti-war” left claimed that Israel, a country the size of New Jersey, had dragged the world’s most powerful military into a regional conflict.
“We knew there was going to be an Israeli action, we knew that that would precipitate an attack against American forces, and we knew that if we didn’t preemptively go after them before they launched those attacks, we would suffer higher casualties,” Rubio stated on March 2.
“So he’s flat out telling us that we’re in a war with Iran because Israel forced our hand,” responded popular conservative pundit Matt Walsh in a post on X.
But, as often occurs in cyberspace, Rubio’s comments were taken wildly out of context.
During the same press conference, Rubio was asked a similar question again: “Was the US forced to strike because of an impending Israeli action?” Rubio set the record straight unequivocally.
“No … No matter what, ultimately, this operation needed to happen … This had to happen no matter what.”
The Secretary of State is correct. His answer about Israel triggering the operation implied that it was only a matter of when, not if, the mission would be undertaken by the US.
American military power had been amassing in the Middle East for months, and some reports said that planning for the combined strikes began as far back as December. Other reports suggested that the operation was intended to begin a week earlier, but the conditions weren’t right.
Intelligence provided to Israel by the Central Intelligence Agency, combined with actionable intelligence gathered for years by Israel’s Mossad, suggested that February 28, at around 10 am Tehran time, was the optimal starting line for the mission. Why? Because former Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei was due to meet with nearly 50 of his closest advisors and other senior leaders, above ground. According to The Wall Street Journal, those were the circumstances that nailed down a start date for the ongoing conflict.
That’s why commentators across the aisle got Rubio’s statement so very wrong. In fact, Israel has shown in the past that it would comply willingly should its friends in Washington wish for IDF military action not to go forward.
On June 24, 2025, the Israeli Air Force cancelled planned strikes on Iran after Trump announced that he had told Netanyahu to bring the pilots home and that a ceasefire was in place. The strikes were planned in retaliation for a vicious attack on a Beer Sheva residential building that killed several civilians. Even then, Israel respected the wishes of the United States.
The ongoing conflict in Iran is a combined effort between what US Central Command (CENTCOM) Commander Brad Cooper called, “the two most powerful air forces in the world, the US and Israel,” comments later echoed by Secretary of War Pete Hegseth. It began with full coordination and will end the same way.
As Hegseth said, “only the United States of America military could lead this — only us. But when you add in the Israeli Defense Forces — a devastatingly capable force — the combination is sheer destruction for our radical Islamist Iranian adversaries.”
Aaron Goren is a research analyst and editor at the Foundation for Defense of Democracies (FDD).
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Shock and Resolve: Responsibility from Afar in Times of War
Emergency personnel work at the site of an Iranian strike, after Iran launched missile barrages following attacks by the US and Israel on Saturday, in Beit Shemesh, Israel, March 1, 2026. Photo: REUTERS/Ammar Awad
When my flight to Tel Aviv was canceled in Warsaw, the war had not yet officially begun. Airlines, however, often sense what governments have not yet declared. Within hours, Israel’s airspace closed. Soon after that, the Iranian missile barrage began.
I was en route to join 22 prominent social media voices from the United States and Europe at the Tel Aviv Institute, where I serve as president. We had convened them for four days of intensive work combating antisemitism — a phenomenon that does not subside during war, but metastasizes. Instead, I found myself watching from afar as our participants sheltered in place.
This is not about my disrupted travel plans. It is about what courage looks like when missiles are falling and what responsibility looks like when you are not physically present to hear the sirens.
Among those social media advocates on the ground was Hen Mazzig. His voice has reached millions with moral clarity and unapologetic conviction. When the missiles began, he did not retreat into silence. He did what he has always done: he spoke.
We were able to evacuate a small group of participants by chartered boat after 26 hours at sea. Among them were Karoline Preisler, a non-Jewish German politician and influencer, and Bernice Cohen, a dermatologist whose platform reaches well beyond the Jewish and Israeli ecosystem. Others remain in Israel, including Boston chef Ruhama Shitrit, who, between sleepless nights and repeated dashes to bomb shelters, continues to imagine new ways to present Jewish and Israeli life as vibrant, humane, and dignified — even under fire.
These are not soldiers. They are civilians — influencers, professionals, parents — demonstrating moral steadiness under extraordinary pressure.
If anything is deeply embedded in Jewish consciousness, it is guilt. Even as I insist this is not about me, I would be dishonest not to admit that guilt arrives in waves. I am the kind of person who shows up. I have spent nights in bomb shelters before; I have volunteered in past crises. When a nation you love is under attack, distance can feel like dereliction.
No rational explanation fully quiets that voice.
My flight was canceled. I would have added strain. My team is capable. Strategically, I may be more useful abroad.
The arguments are sound. The emotions persist.
But war clarifies something uncomfortable: showing up is not synonymous with boarding a plane. In modern conflict, the battlefield is not confined to geography. It is informational, diplomatic, and psychological. While missiles fall on Israeli cities, narratives are created abroad. While Israeli families race to shelters, antisemitic incidents spike in Diaspora communities. While soldiers defend borders, others must defend legitimacy.
That work does not happen automatically. It requires voices willing to withstand backlash. It requires influencers who refuse to equivocate when moral clarity is demanded. It requires institutions that remain operational rather than reactive. It requires people positioned outside the blast radius who understand that proximity to danger is not the only measure of courage.
The harder truth is this: guilt often signals an identity conflict. “I am the one who goes.” But leadership sometimes demands a different posture: remaining where you are most effective, even when every instinct pulls you toward physical solidarity.
The participants of our Institute — Hen and those sheltering in place — embody one form of courage: presence under fire. Those of us abroad are called to embody another: disciplined advocacy, amplification without distortion, and solidarity without self-centeredness.
Shock is inevitable in moments like these. But awe should not be reserved for weaponry or even endurance alone. It should be reserved for the character revealed under pressure—in Israeli civilians who continue building and speaking between sirens; in Iranian civilians whose longing for dignity and safety mirrors our own; and in diaspora communities that refuse to retreat when hostility surges.
Shock may be unavoidable. Passivity is not. If we cannot all stand beneath the same sky, we can at least stand within the same resolve.
That is what responsibility from afar demands.
Dr. Ron Katz is President of the Tel Aviv Institute and leads international efforts to combat antisemitism. He received his PhD from the University of California, Berkeley.