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Israel antiwar protests spur intensifying government crackdown
TEL AVIV, Israel — It was a strange sight, even for wartime Israel: A line of police horses descended into the vast public bomb shelter beneath Tel Aviv’s Habima Square — hooves clattering against the concrete as officers led them to safety.
While the horses got a police escort, just a few feet away, 17 antiwar demonstrators were stuck on a police bus, pleading to be let off before the incoming barrage of Iranian missiles reached the city.
They had been detained as part of the ongoing crackdown on Israelis protesting against the war with Iran, carried out in the name of wartime public safety.
This round of arrests took place on Saturday night. “Our phones began buzzing with the pre-siren warning,” recalled Alon-Lee Green, co-director of the Jewish-Palestinian coexistence group Standing Together and now one of the leaders of a burgeoning antiwar movement. “We kept asking them to let us go down to the shelter. They refused, even though this is completely against the law. They told us it was our problem because we chose to come to the protest.”
When the siren sounded — signaling 90 seconds to take cover — the argument escalated. Onlookers tried to intervene, urging police to allow the detainees into the shelter. Instead the driver took off for a nearby residential building. The activists, some still in handcuffs, were rushed into the lobby and ordered to lie on the floor. “This was not a protected space. We were under a bunch of glass windows,” Green recounted. “If there had been a direct hit … they put our lives at risk in a very serious way.”
In the weeks leading up to Israel and the United States’ joint strikes on Iran, support for full-scale war among Israelis was high, with most people convinced that Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s dire warning of the immediate and existential threat posed by Iran and his promise to eliminate it “for generations” were both truths. As the war began, and Israelis found themselves rushing into bomb shelters, support remained widespread.
But as the fighting has continued to drag on, the antiwar movement has followed a sharp growth trajectory: from a small gathering of far-left activists outnumbered by the journalists reporting on them to multi-city demonstrations drawing more than 1,000 participants each week. The numbers are still modest compared to the tens of thousands who filled Israel’s streets weekly during the judicial overhaul protests and the hostage demonstrations after Oct. 7, but a significant jump given how popular the war was at its outset.
The rise of the protest movement coincides with a shift in public opinion. Support for the war, which began above 80%, has dropped into the high 60s in recent weeks — still a clear majority, but a meaningful decline for a conflict that initially drew near-unanimous backing. One month in, war fatigue has begun to set in. In addition to the growing death and injury toll and financial loss, Israelis are sleep-deprived, desperate for school to resume, and frustrated that the airport is still not operating at full capacity. They are also watching as the government slashes the state budget.
Organizers say they are encouraged by the rapid growth, even as they navigate the pitfalls of coalition-building. But for now, the movement faces a more immediate challenge: as crowds grow, so too does the force being used by uniformed and plainclothes Israeli police officers to disperse them.
Arrests, forcible removal of demonstrators and confiscation of equipment have now become regular occurrences. According to police, these are legitimate methods for dispersing protests, which they say violate Home Front Command directives restricting large gatherings during wartime. But with beaches and malls around the country packed with people, and Haredi communities holding massive funerals, weddings and holiday celebrations, critics have accused far-right National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir of using those same restrictions as a pretext to silence dissent.
That debate has now moved from the streets to the courtroom. Just as Saturday’s protest was getting underway, Israel’s High Court of Justice ruled that blanket restrictions used to shut down demonstrations did not sufficiently account for the basic right to protest, which the court president stated exists even during wartime. The court ordered the state to raise the cap on demonstrations from 150 to at least 600 people, including at Habima Square.
The ruling came in response to a petition filed the day before by the Association for Civil Rights in Israel and activist Itamar Greenberg, following weeks of aggressive police dispersals. The court also raised concerns about selective enforcement, noting that similar restrictions were not being applied to other large gatherings.
By Saturday night, the decision was already being tested. As hundreds of demonstrators gathered once again at Habima Square, part of coordinated protests that also drew crowds in Haifa and Jerusalem, organizers said they were operating within the court’s guidelines. Police disagreed. Citing security concerns and Home Front Command restrictions, officers moved quickly and forcefully to disperse the crowd, confiscating amplification equipment and signs and arresting 17 people, including Green.
“But we learned afterwards that the police had begged Home Front Command to give the order that the protest was illegal, and they refused,” he said. “After 30 minutes, the police just decided to act on their own command and begin arresting people.”
IDF officials later confirmed to Haaretz that dispersing the demonstration had not been approved by the Home Front Command, saying the decision was made by police alone. The High Court is expected to revisit the issue this week, even as Justice Minister Yariv Levin has called on the government to consider defying any ruling that expands protest rights during wartime.
For Green, the past few weeks reflect a deeper societal shift. “What we’re seeing is the legitimization of political violence,” he said. “It starts with words — calling people traitors for opposing the war or supporting peace — and it slowly becomes something more.” In recent months, a spate of right-wing provocateurs have begun harassing and intimidating journalists, politicians, and protesters with whom they disagree. Prominent leaders, including Green, have also been targeted at their homes.
He added: “When the public sees that it’s becoming dangerous to speak out, to organize, to protest — that violence is an acceptable way to silence a political camp — it changes the entire public space.”
Both Green and Greenberg stress that the antiwar movement is not the first, nor the primary, target of such force. “By no means did this start with our movement,” Greenberg noted. “It begins with the Palestinians. They bear the brunt of police brutality. But that’s how fascism works — people remain silent, and eventually it comes for them.”
Green agrees. “It’s a slow but powerful process of stripping legitimacy from an entire political camp,” he said, “and giving permission to act against it with violence.”
While that threat has surely kept individuals at home, the movement as a whole continues to expand. It now includes veterans of the antigovernment movement, first-time demonstrators, and public figures such as Hadash-Ta’al political party lawmakers Ofer Cassif and Ayman Odeh — even as many prominent opposition figures remain absent.
For Greenberg, the growth is both intentional and complicated. “We not only expected it,” he said. “We were trying to make it happen as soon as possible.”
“As someone who identifies as a radical anti-Zionist, I understand the limits of my political power. We are a small group. But we are part of this society, and we can still create a movement of resistance to this war.”
That has required letting go of control. “We started this, but now we are part of something bigger,” he said. “There are people at the protests whose views I totally disagree with … but right now we have one mutual goal, to stop this war. I cannot afford to be picky.”
Green suggests that tension is central to the movement’s future. “This is where we see Standing Together’s role — to help build as wide a coalition as possible,” he said, describing efforts to bring together more than 50 groups around a broadly shared platform. “Anti-war, anti-government, anti-abandonment, pro-life. Whoever can agree to this can be in the tent.”
It is a fragile coalition. “Right now, we still feel that our specific voice is being heard loudly and clearly,” he said. “But what happens when it grows to 10,000 people and suddenly we are in the minority?”
“It becomes about finding a balance,” Greenberg continued, “Continuing to show up at largest protests and representing the anti-occupation bloc but also making sure that we are developing separate ways to express our specific beliefs.”
For Green, however, the moment feels larger than any one single cause or agenda.
“I think we’re facing a moment where all the different fronts are uniting,” he said. “People are starting to understand that whether you are coming from a humanitarian viewpoint or from a solidarity viewpoint or anti-government or even self-interest, it’s all connected to one overarching question: Are we going to find a way to live here in peace or are we are going to be stuck in this constant state of war, forever fighting, stealing, assassinating, running to shelters, our children missing school?”
As the protests continue to grow — even amid efforts to suppress them — organizers believe they have opened a space that did not exist just weeks ago.
“We have the opportunity,” Green said, “to present a different way.”
The post Israel antiwar protests spur intensifying government crackdown appeared first on The Forward.
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The definitive Oct. 7 book was written — and sketched — before the attack
As Salomé Parent-Rachdi and Zac Deloupy worked on the drawings for a book about Israeli-Palestinian romance, they had no way of knowing the world they were depicting was on the brink of collapse.
The day they finished their pencil sketches, we learn in the book’s introduction, was Oct. 6, 2023. The next day, Hamas invaded Israel, killing about 1,200 and taking another 251 hostage. By the time the book was published in April 2024, Israel was locked in a multi-front war that still hasn’t quite settled.
That context — a looming attack, a forever war that has not yet begun — colors every panel of Love and Desire in the Promised Land: The Private Lives of Israelis and Palestinians, a French graphic nonfiction book whose English translation was released this summer. Reading the book feels like opening a time capsule that had been buried in the distant past: Even as it reminds you how bad the Israeli-Palestinian conflict was before Oct. 7, it leaves you wishing desperately you could restore things to how they were.
The book follows Parent-Rachdi, a French journalist, as she travels across Israel and the Palestinian territories to interview 16 subjects about their love lives. She talks to a mix of singles and couples, straight and gay, in Israel, West Bank and Gaza. (That’s one giveaway this book couldn’t have been made today: No journalist has been permitted to enter Gaza unaccompanied since Oct. 7.)
A few tell of dating across Palestinian-Israeli lines. Lana, an Arab Israeli, finds herself in a situationship with a right-wing Israeli — and ends up marrying him. Samira, an Arab Israeli woman, tells us about her Israeli ex, whose enlistment during the 2014 Gaza war — when they are living together — brings the unspoken tension in their relationship out into the open. And we learn the complex family dynamics of a celebrity Muslim-Jewish couple: Fauda star Tsahi Halevi and his Arab-Israeli wife, TV anchor Lucy Aharish.
The less politically fraught experiences are relayed with the same empathy. Avi, an ex-Hasid, reveals that, despite unbearable teenage horniness, he initially didn’t know how to find porn on the internet due to his insular upbringing. (He searches for “woman in pajamas” instead.) Rami, Parent-Rachdi’s fixer and taxi driver in Gaza, says, as a single man in his thirties, he told people he had erectile dysfunction so they wouldn’t grow suspicious.
In between these revelations are glimpses of life as it was in Israel and the Palestinian territories before Oct. 7. We ride shotgun as Parent-Rachdi navigates checkpoints on her way out of the West Bank and deals with Israeli and Palestinian officials on the way into Gaza. Rami — who did finally marry — says he made sure his son was born in Jordan so that he wouldn’t be trapped in Gaza as an adult. Parent-Rachdi has brought his stepson a remote-control car — the kind of toy Rami can’t buy in Gaza due to the Israeli blockade.
The love stories describe conflict, of course, and they do not uniformly lead to happy endings. (Or for that matter, breakups.) What they consistently show instead is people — as far as we can tell, basically good people — reaching out to each other in a pressure cooker of cultural, religious, sexual and political attitudes.
The stories also betray civilians’ genuine skepticism of their own communities with a frankness that seems unimaginable today. The clearest example of this comes in Gaza, where Mohammed, a closeted Palestinian looking for hookups, tells Parent-Rachdi about Hamas honor killings of gay men and his own brush with death. “They’re more likely to kill you if you’re a bottom,” he says matter-of-factly. Catfished by a Hamas intelligence officer, Mohammed escapes arrest by swearing he’s a virgin and flees to the U.S. a few days later.
Would Mohammed make the same disclosures today, when “What about Hamas?” has become a refrain for anyone defending Israel’s response to Oct. 7? The Gaza he left behind no longer exists. The book’s afterword, written in Feb. 2024, reveals that Rami’s wife’s cosmetics store — lovingly illustrated by Deloupy earlier in the book — was leveled in Israeli airstrikes; the family was now living in a refugee camp in Rafah. “We have gone from a life with all the modern comforts to a reality where we move with a cart, where we buy wood to split and burn in order to cook and take a shower,” he says.
As for Mohammed, his house was destroyed, as were many friendships with Jews and Israelis: “I write to them,” he says in the afterword. “They don’t respond, but they read my message.” As for Hamas, he says, “today, seeing the suffering, somehow I feel like I better understand their resistance.” When the authors checked in with the subjects, several did not respond. By then, some 30,000 Palestinians were dead.
As it reminds us what we’ve lost, Love and Desire in the Promised Land also points the only way toward a shared future: people on all sides defying the forces pulling them apart. It shows us it can be done. Even in the afterword, one of the interviewees, a Modern Orthodox Jew named Jean-Marc, is optimistic: “I am still convinced, even more so now, that we have to work with the Palestinians,” he says. “Our safety depends on it.”
The post The definitive Oct. 7 book was written — and sketched — before the attack appeared first on The Forward.
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Christian leaders are racing toward the Rapture. Is Israel really to blame?
End Times Fascism: And the Fight for the Living World
By Naomi Klein and Astra Taylor
Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 384 pages, $32
Judaism is not usually a religion associated with apocalyptic thought. There’s no Jewish version of the Book of Revelation. There is a concept of a Messianic Age, but most observant groups forbid interfering with — encouraging or discouraging — its arrival.
Yet Judaism, or at least Israel, is central to Christian apocalyptic thought. The lines that drive its connection to Israel are well-traced. The Book of Revelation requires Jews to return to the promised land, and a Third Temple to be built for Jesus to return, and so, for years, Christian Zionists like John Hagee, the founder of Christians United for Israel and Mike Huckabee, the current U.S. ambassador to Israel, have encouraged wars in the region, seeing them as part of prophecy.
Hagee and Huckabee have talked in glowing terms of the many lands they believe comprise “greater Israel” all becoming part of the modern nationstate, in fulfillment of biblical requirements for the Rapture. Byron Stinson, another wealthy evangelical leader, has worked to breed and import blemish-free red heifers to Israel, because their ashes are necessary to build the Third Temple that will herald the return of Jesus.
More recently, the Jewish extremists who are also hungry to build a Third Temple have moved from the fringe into the Israeli government. Several times now, Israeli security minister Itamar Ben-Gvir has stalked around the Temple Mount, where Jews are officially forbidden from prayer, and led a large group in prayer, flanked by the police force he heads. Bezalel Smotrich, Israel’s minister of finance, has promised to fund the construction of a Third Temple.
But as powerful as these Jewish leaders are, the Christians are far bigger. CUFI, the group led by Hagee, is the biggest Zionist group in the U.S., far larger than AIPAC.
And yet End Times Fascism, a new book from activists and writers Naomi Klein and Astra Taylor — Klein is known for books like No Logo and Shock Doctrine, where she coined the relevant term “disaster capitalism” — focuses largely on Israel, and the extremists in its government.
The book’s central argument is that accelerationist fanatics believe an apocalyptic future will benefit them — whether in heaven or on earth. And they’re racing toward that future with increasingly fascistic terms.
These apocalyptic futures vary. For Christians, it might be the Rapture, and ultimately heaven. For AI techies, it’s a world ruled by the silicone grip of an all-knowing machine — or at least a world ruled by the superrich and filled with AI-driven propaganda masquerading as the voice of God while it surveils its users. For ethno-nationalists, it’s a homogenous country in which they can live out their nostalgia for an imagined perfect past. End Times Fascism is divided into sections, each taking on one of these groups and its ravenous vision for the end of the world, and how it is leading the world into fascism — through moral policing, surveillance, xenophobia.
But in the section on religious extremism, Israeli extremists get at least as much airtime as the Christians, despite the fact that these end time fanatics have far less global influence and don’t represent the vast majority of Jews.
It is, of course, important to understand the interplay between Christian apocalyptic thought and Judaism, and this is where things can get tangled. Christian Zionists’ desire for the Rapture leads them to support Israel and, sometimes, to display a kind of philosemitism. Ultimately, they are neither true friends to the Jews nor supporters of Israel; Hagee once gave a sermon claiming God sent Hitler as a kind of shepherd to force Jews back to Israel, in alignment with the biblical plan — when, of course, Jews will convert or burn in hell. But these beliefs have not made most Jewish groups cut ties with CUFI; Israel’s prime minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, has, for decades, referred to U.S. Christian Zionists, and Hagee in particular, as beloved supporters of Israel, and has said that Christian Zionists made Jewish Zionism possible. Many Jews are similarly grateful for evangelical support of Israel, regardless of what less supportive beliefs might undergird it, and are willing to ally with these religious extremists if it means support for Israel’s wars and annexations.
Certainly, all of these thoughts build on one another, and are difficult to untangle; plenty of hawkish Jews and Israelis want Israel to expand for non-biblical reasons. But the vast majority of Jews are not actively working to build a Third Temple and bring about the end of the world as we know it. Yet Klein and Taylor represent Jews largely through extremists like Ben-Gvir, and even focus their discussion of Christian apocalyptic thought on its overlap with Judaism and Israel. These religions share the Hebrew Bible, but little else.
There is far more to Christian apocalyptic thought than Israel. Plenty of Rapture-hopefuls in the U.S. believe their own country is the promised land; indeed, theological power is shifting away from Israel, as a new cohort of Christian extremists like Candace Owens, Nick Fuentes and Tucker Carlson catch hold of the political discourse and steer it toward open antisemitism and harsh scrutiny of U.S. support of Israel.
The old guard is being replaced by a new Christian right that is suspicious of Israel’s every action, and doesn’t egg on its wars. When Tucker Carlson interviewed Ted Cruz, a staunch supporter of Israel, the senator explained the Christian theological grounding of his support for Israel; Carlson, also a loudly devout Christian, jeered.
That’s not to say, of course, that there aren’t still many Christian Zionists in power in the U.S., shaping its foreign policy regarding Israel. But End Times Fascism feels as though it is stuck in a previous era of American Christianity, and of U.S. politics.
This problem is not limited to the section on religious apocalypse. The second part of the book, focused on the AI hunger of transhumanist tech titans, spends time on neoreactionary thinker Curtis Yarvin’s plan for a New Gaza, as it was presented at a Peter Thiel conference. Thiel is, himself, a Christian who is famously obsessed with the antichrist and the end of the world — once again, there is crossover, and these topics all share threads. But Israel is not the major driver of the race toward AI killing us all, or any other tech-related doom.
The fundamental idea of Klein and Taylor’s work is that rapturous obsessions drive not only worldly destruction — that much seems obvious — but also fascism. It’s a smart idea, and they have plenty of examples, whether surveillance by our internet overlords or ICE raids pushed for by white nationalists. But the book spends so much time on its trendiest target — Israel — when it should direct its energy examining figures like U.S. Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth and the muscular Christianity driving his new testosterone regime for the U.S. military, or influential online figures like Owens or Fuentes agitating for a white, Christian U.S. (Some of these influencers are mentioned, but not as primary drivers.)
Certainly, Israel is involved in U.S. politics, in Christian nationalism, in the building of an ethnostate. (Israel in fact appears least in the third section on ethnonationalism, which is surprising given its identity as a Jewish state.) But despite Israel’s importance, the U.S., and its leaders, are still far more powerful.
The issue might be the book’s structure. The idea that apocalyptic thought drives fascism is a fairly simple one, and many of Klein and Taylor’s examples are familiar. The idea that is more subtle, and harder to grasp, is the way the threads of eschatological thought, ethnonationalism and tech wealth all share ideas and shape each other.
Peter Thiel alone, given his tech companies, his antichrist obsession, his love of Nazi theorists and his influence over Vice President JD Vance, could generate at least a chapter in any of the book’s three sections, or serve as a throughline for the entire book. Yet the topics are divided, as though each form of apocalyptic thought is its own entity, instead of woven together to show the ways they all reinforce each other.
End Times Fascism closes with a section on how to fight the rising fascism. Perhaps this should be the main focus of the book; many people who read the news already feels as though our leaders are racing toward the apocalypse, or at least WW III and a second Great Depression. The real question is what to do.
End Times Fascism offers some inspirations, including New York City’s mayor, Zohran Mamdani, as well as the Jewish Labor Bund. At least if the focus is once again on Jews, this time it’s positive.
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Why Dolly Parton sang a song about a Jewish journalist
A Broadway show, a star-studded television tribute, a new hotel and museum in Nashville. As odes to Dolly Parton keep coming, a recording of the late country music singer honoring an American Jewish journalist has recently surfaced.
Never before released in America, the song, “A Bridge Across,” sung by Parton and accompanied by the Nashville Symphony, honors slain journalist Daniel Pearl.
The song features spare lyrics set to violin music composed in honor of Pearl, a Wall Street Journal reporter who was brutally murdered by terrorists in Pakistan in 2002.
Originally recorded in 2008 by Parton, renowned fiddler Mark O’Connor, and the Nashville Symphony, the song was intended to be part of a compilation album called This is My America, produced and funded, oddly enough, in Canada but never released in the U.S.
It was O’Connor and his wife Maggie who resurrected the recording this fall, shortly after the deaths of Parton and another musician that connected the four artists: Oregon violinmaker Jonathan Cooper, who died in September.
Deeply troubled by the journalist’s murder in 2002, Cooper learned Pearl was an amateur fiddler and set out to create a quartet of string instruments – two violins, a viola and a cello – in the journalist’s honor. He entrusted the instruments to O’Connor to use during his annual summer music camp in North Carolina. Every year since, four students from the camp have received one of the Daniel Pearl memorial instruments to play for a year.
“These young people carry the message that love fights hatred through music-making and understanding that Daniel Pearl’s family want him remembered for,” O’Connor told The New York Times. Likewise, Cooper’s loving gesture inspired Parton, O’Connor said.
Canadian violinist Samantha Robichaud received one of the violins in 2005 and has gone on to become a successful recording artist with more than a half dozen albums. She has toured North America as an ambassador for the Daniel Pearl Foundation, sharing Pearl’s story, including his passion for
music and its power to change lives. Enter songwriters Tom McBryde and Lynn Wilbanks, whose introduction to Robichaud inspired verse.
On the album, the Nashville Symphony played one of Robichaud’s compositions while Parton introduced Pearl to listeners.
“He believed that music was something that could cross all social barriers, political borders and imaginary boundaries,” Parton says, before singing McBride’s and Wilbanks’ lyrics.
“A bridge across a question one journey begins, one step at a time to a place within.
A bridge across a border, a hand reaching out one heart at a time to erase the doubt.
A bridge across a difference can close a divide, one song to be sung on the other side.”
“It was perfect. She knows what he stood for,” Pearl’s father, Dr. Judea Pearl, told the Forward. “She was such a giving person.”
Judea Pearl met Parton in 2018 at the Los Angeles Press Club where she received that year’s Public Service Award for Contributions to Civic Life for her Imagination Library, which sends free books to children. (It inspired the creation of the PJ Library for Jewish books.) The Press Club recently dedicated its upcoming National Arts & Entertainment Journalism Awards to Parton’s memory.
In 2018, Judea Pearl was there to present the Daniel Pearl Award for Courage and Integrity in Journalism to Saudi Arabian writer and blogger Raif Badawi whose wife accepted the award while he served a 10-year prison sentence for his online activism.
The foundation devoted to Daniel Pearl’s legacy has been less visible since the 2021 death of Pearl’s mother Ruth who, as a young girl, witnessed and survived the anti-Jewish pogroms in Baghdad known as the Farhud.
As the 25th anniversary of his son’s murder approaches in February, Judea Pearl said the foundation will start a new chapter under his daughters’ leadership. Parton’s song lends the effort a touching soundtrack.
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