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Joseph Borgen was beaten in the streets while wearing a kippah. Now, he’s fighting in the NYC court system
(New York Jewish Week) — Before Joseph Borgen was beaten in the street nearly two years ago, on the way to a pro-Israel rally, he enjoyed playing basketball after returning home to the Upper East Side from his day job as an accountant.
In the time since Borgen, now 30, was attacked, that hasn’t been possible. The incident — in which five men shouting antisemitic slurs punched, kicked, pepper-sprayed and beat Borgen with crutches — left him needing surgery on his wrist. Only recently has he started going back to the gym.
“It’s something that is still lingering and I’d love to put it in my rearview,” Borgen, who is the eldest of five siblings, told the New York Jewish Week. “It doesn’t just only affect me. My little brother was seeing me on the news. He’s still a kid. We’re very close.”
The attack on Borgen drew national attention, and came amid a string of antisemitic assaults in the United States surrounding the May 2021 conflict between Israel and Hamas in Gaza. Now, Borgen is caught in a conflict of a different kind, one that illustrates the long tail of hate crimes that have faded from public consciousness. He doesn’t want the beating to define him, but finds that its after-effects have festered — and that a controversy over the ensuing trial of his alleged attackers has spurred him to become a passionate, if ambivalent, advocate against antisemitism.
“There is some value and good in speaking about what happened and just getting the message out there,” Borgen said. “But it’s not something I want to harp on.”
Joey Borgen, victim of a violent antisemitic attack last yr which took place few blocks from Times Square, said “The attack on me was no isolated incident. Pittsburgh to Poway to across the river in NJ— violent, deadly antisemtism is increasing to record levels”#ShineALight pic.twitter.com/4x29t9Pzi2
— JCRC of New York (@JCRCNY) November 29, 2021
Borgen was walking to a pro-Israel rally when he was attacked in the street in midtown Manhattan on May 20, 2021 — the same day Hamas and Israel announced a ceasefire after 11 days of conflict. A blurry video of the attack that circulated on social media showed a small crowd of men surrounding Borgen, kicking him and beating him with sticks. A photo of Borgen from later that night shows Borgen with a puffy red face, and wearing a neck brace.
“I was just wearing a kippah, listening to music, just minding my own business — and it all just erupted,” Borgen said, recalling the incident. “Before I can even really react or do anything, there’s a group of individuals surrounding me. I didn’t have the time to process what was going on.”
Borgen is still facing those who have been accused of attacking him — but that confrontation has moved to the courts. The lead perpetrator, Waseem Awawdeh, was charged with hate crime assault, along with a list of other charges. The case is still in process, and the next hearing is on April 20.
“I can’t even tell you how hard personally I’ve been fighting for this,” Borgen told the New York Jewish Week. “If there’s no accountability or consequences of what took place, what happened to me is going to happen to someone else.”
Borgen is currently worried that Awawdeh will go to prison for a small fraction of the maximum sentence he faces, which, according to Borgen’s attorney, is 15 years. That concern stems from reports in the New York Post and New York Sun that Manhattan D.A. Alvin Bragg offered Awawdeh a six-month plea deal.
Those reports have sparked a chorus of criticism, as well as a letter to Bragg by nearly two dozen groups lobbying against the deal. The signatories were a mix of right-wing, pro-Israel and Orthodox groups, including the Rabbinical Council of America, an association for Orthodox rabbis; the Zionist Organization of America, a right-wing organization; and Americans Against Antisemitism, a group founded by former New York State Assemblymember Dov Hikind, who represented a Brooklyn district.
“Failing to impose severe consequences here would send the dangerous and unacceptable message that Jews can be brutally attacked with impunity,” said the letter, which was sent earlier this month.
Hikind told the New York Jewish Week that he wants more Jews to vocally support Borgen. “We need to fill the courtroom,” Hikind said. “Unfortunately, we’re just not there. The community needs to come out.”
The six-month deal, however, seems like far from a sure thing. Awawdeh’s lawyer, Peter Marc Frankel, confirmed the deal to the Post in January, as did prosecutors on the case. But speaking to the New York Jewish Week on Monday, Frankel said he was unsure if the deal would come to fruition.
“I don’t know if it’s going to happen, frankly,” Frankel said. “It’s unclear at this point. I don’t know if it’s going to be a six-month deal, but I would not expect a shorter deal, certainly.”
The deal has not yet been openly discussed in court, and Borgen’s lawyer, Ross Pearlson, who is representing his client pro-bono on behalf of the Anti-Defamation League, told the New York Jewish Week that “it’s not clear” if the six-month deal will hold.
“I’m unaware of any offers being made,” Pearlson said. “I believe that a year would be more appropriate. Six months to me still seems a little light considering the mob violence and the damage that was done to [Borgen].”
Bragg’s office declined to comment on the deal. The ADL likewise did not respond to requests for comment on the case.
Shortly after the attack, in 2021, a prosecutor on the case said that Awawdeh had told one of his jailers, “If I could do it again, I would do it again,” according to the Post. But Frankel told the New York Jewish Week that “that quote was taken completely out of context” and that Awawdeh has offered to meet and apologize to Borgen. He also met with the prosecutors to explain how remorseful he felt.
“[Awawdeh’s] behavior was the result of bad impulse control and a bad reaction to a bad situation, rather than an effort to try to seek someone out who is Jewish to commit a hate crime,” Frankel said.
Pearlson added that Borgen “has been traumatized by this event.”
“He’s very emotional when I speak to him about it,” Pearlson said. “He gets agitated for each one of these court appearances. When we talk about the case, he’s passionate about it.”
There are now five defendants in the case, including Awawdeh, and the D.A.’s office is treating them differently based on their alleged respective roles in the beating.
“Justice is not one size fits all,” Pearlson said. “It doesn’t move quickly, but in this case, it’s not the D.A.’s office delaying things or dragging its heels. There’s going to be some element of justice done.”
The fact that Borgen’s case is being prosecuted at all puts it in the minority of hate crimes complaints in Manhattan. According to NYPD statistics, police precincts in the borough received 241 hate crime complaints in 2022, and made 118 arrests based on those complaints.
Bragg’s office told the New York Jewish Week that 92 hate crimes were prosecuted in Manhattan last year. His office currently has 20 open hate crime cases related to antisemitism for this year. A report last year in The City, a local publication, found that most hate crimes charges are dropped before any convictions take place.
Although Borgen remains involved in the case, and has spoken about his experience publicly, he suggested that it was still hard to think about.
“Some people have said, ‘God only put you through this because you can handle it,’” said Borgen, who is modern Orthodox and puts on tefillin daily. “But if I start to think about it in those terms, I don’t want to go there. I don’t want to let it factor into my views on God and spirituality because if I did, it might make me start to question and wonder about things. I don’t want to go down that road.”
On March 9, Borgen appeared in court, sitting in the same room as his alleged attackers. While he could not comment on the specifics of the hearing, not wanting to impact court proceedings, he said that “it sucks to be in the same room as individuals who could have killed me.”
“I don’t like going to court,” Borgen said. “I do it because when I’m there with other people, a large group of Jewish individuals, it sends a message that we’re not lying down and taking this.”
—
The post Joseph Borgen was beaten in the streets while wearing a kippah. Now, he’s fighting in the NYC court system appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Why the Jews Survived When so Many Civilizations Collapsed
Pro-Israel demonstrators gathered at Bebelplatz in central Berlin on Nov. 30, 2025, before marching toward the Brandenburg Gate. Participants held Israeli flags and signs condemning rising antisemitism in Germany. Photo: Michael Kuenne/PRESSCOV/Sipa USA via Reuters Connect
Arnold Toynbee, the great 20th century historian, devoted his life to studying civilizations — how they rise, how they flourish, and then, inevitably, how they fall.
His conclusion was disarmingly simple: Civilizations rarely collapse because they are conquered from the outside. They collapse because they fail to adapt. They mistake their moment in the spotlight — even if it lasts for centuries — for permanence.
And almost always, that confidence attaches itself to a particular place — a city, a capital, a sacred center that seems to radiate eternity.
For the Aztecs, that center was Tenochtitlan — an island city rising out of Lake Texcoco. Majestic white temples gleamed in the sun, with the great central shrine, the Templo Mayor, dominating the skyline.
Priests in feathered headdresses moved through the sacred area with ritual precision. This was an empire utterly convinced that heaven and earth met right there — in the middle of its city.
Then, in 1519, a few hundred Spaniards appeared on the horizon. At their head was Hernán Cortés, a young, ambitious, calculating adventurer who had no interest in the Aztecs’ view of themselves as an eternal people. Within two years, Tenochtitlan was rubble. The sacred precinct was stripped — its stones repurposed to build churches.
Today, if you stand in Mexico City, you can see excavated fragments of the Templo Mayor beside traffic lights and fast-food stands. The empire that believed it stood at the center of the world survives only in stone, in memory, and in the scattered descendants of a civilization that long ago lost its sacred center.
It’s a similar story with the Incas — a civilization of perhaps 12 million people stretching down the western spine of South America. They, too, had their version of eternity. Their bustling center, brimming with wealth, was Cusco, in the Peruvian Andes. Their vast empire stretched across mountains, deserts, and jungles — all radiating outward from Cusco, which they called the “navel of the world.”
Then, in the 1530s, another small Spanish expedition arrived, this one led by Francisco Pizarro. The timing could not have been worse. A brutal civil war was already tearing the Inca empire apart. Smallpox — a disease carried unknowingly by Europeans — had spread ahead of them, weakening the Inca population and destabilizing their leadership.
But even that did not prepare the Incas for the ruthless rampage of the conquistadores. Pizarro seized the emperor, Atahualpa, holding him hostage until an enormous ransom room was filled with gold and silver. The ransom was delivered as promised, but Atahualpa was executed anyway, and by 1533, Cusco was in ruins.
As in Mexico, temples were stripped of their treasures, and the gold was melted down and dispatched to Spain. Churches rose where sun temples once stood. The imperial order that seemed as solid as Andean granite unraveled with astonishing speed.
And this is not just a story about the New World. It is the rhythm of history. Mesopotamia believed itself to be eternal. Assyria did. Egypt did. Greece did. Carthage did. Rome certainly did.
Each, in its moment, assumed it stood at the gravitational center of human civilization. And then it didn’t. Monuments rise. Architecture declares permanence. Believers insist: “We are not going anywhere.” And then the center of gravity moves. It always moves.
The Jewish story should have followed the same pattern. In fact, by any reasonable civilizational metric, we were the least likely people to survive.
We began in Egypt as slaves. We wandered through the desert. We settled in the Land of Israel. We split into two kingdoms. We were exiled by the Assyrians. Conquered by the Babylonians. Rebuilt. Destroyed again by the Romans. Scattered across continents. Ruled by ruthless powers we did not control, living under laws we did not write.
No nation in history has experienced so many shifts in its center of gravity. And yet — we are still here. The question is not only why – it is how. The answer, I think, begins in Parshat Terumah. Before there was even a single stone laid on the Temple Mount, we were given something else — a sacred center that was real, but not fixed.
At the beginning of Terumah, God commands the construction of a sanctuary — not a monumental edifice carved into mountains or anchored to bedrock, but something built of curtains and poles, rings and sockets, designed to be dismantled and rebuilt wherever the people found themselves.
You might imagine the Mishkan as a temporary solution — a stopgap until the “real” thing in Jerusalem could be constructed. But that is to misunderstand it entirely. The Mishkan was not a placeholder. It was a principle. Long before we had a permanent Temple, we were taught something far more revolutionary: Wherever you are, build Me a center there — and I will be among you. As the Torah puts it (Ex. 25:8): “Let them make Me a sanctuary, and I will dwell among them.” Not in it — but among them.
The Temple in Jerusalem would later become the focal point of Jewish life. It was magnificent. It was the beating heart of the nation. Pilgrims streamed toward it three times a year. The Divine Presence rested there in revealed intensity.
And yet here is the astonishing fact: When the First Temple was destroyed, and the nation was exiled across the Persian Empire, we survived. When the Second Temple was destroyed by Titus in 70 CE, and the nation was scattered across the Roman world, we survived again.
Civilizations do not usually survive the destruction of their sacred center. The Aztec temples fell — and their world collapsed. Cusco fell — and the Inca nation unraveled. When Jerusalem fell, the Jewish people did not disappear. We regrouped. In Yavneh. In Sura. In Pumbedita. In Toledo. In Aleppo. In Frankfurt. In Warsaw. In Vilna. In New York. Even in Los Angeles!
The Temple may have been our center of gravity, but it was never the source of our gravity. That source had been implanted much earlier — in the wilderness — in the Mishkan.
The Mishkan precedes permanence. Long before we possessed a fixed center, we were taught how to create one that moves with us. Portable holiness was written into Jewish DNA. While other civilizations anchored holiness to geography, Judaism anchored holiness to covenant.
This does not diminish our longing for the Temple in Jerusalem. We pray daily for its rebuilding, and we turn toward Jerusalem in every Amidah. The Temple matters profoundly. But our survival without it proves something radical: God’s presence — and our identity as God’s people — was never confined to masonry.
The prophet Ezekiel, speaking in exile, refers to the synagogue as a מִקְדָּשׁ מְעַט — a miniature sanctuary (Ez. 11:16). In other words, a Mishkan. Wherever Jews gathered — in Babylon or Spain, in Poland or America — the portable sanctuary reappeared. In a synagogue. In a study hall. Around a Shabbat table. And God dwelt in our midst.
Which is why it is no accident that our first national sanctuary was made of curtains and poles, dismantled and reconstructed again and again over 40 years of wandering. Exile was written into the Jewish story from the beginning — but so was the architecture of survival.
And so today, as the global center of gravity threatens to shift yet again, the Jewish people remain what we have always been: a nation capable of carrying its center with it.
Wherever Jews gather — in Los Angeles, New York, London, Sydney, in a grand synagogue or a makeshift minyan in a dorm room, a hospital ward, or even a military base — if there is prayer, if there is Torah, if there is yearning for God — then God dwells among us.
The author is a rabbi in Beverly Hills, California.
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Qatar’s Olympic Ambitions: Soft Power Meets Hard Questions
Qatari Prime Minister and Foreign Minister Sheikh Mohammed bin Abdulrahman Al Thani speaks after a meeting with the Lebanese president at the presidential palace in Baabda, Lebanon, Feb. 4, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Emilie Madi
As athletes gather in Italy for the 2026 Winter Olympics, an unusual presence should be sparking concern. Over 100 Qatari public security officers, along with 20 camouflage SUVs and three snowmobiles, arrived in Italy this month to help safeguard the Winter Games, though the country has no athletes competing.
The presence of US Immigration and Customers Enforcement (ICE) officials in Italy has drawn much of the flack around the Olympic security forces. But on a global level, it’s the chasm between Qatar’s carefully cultivated image and its actual conduct that deserves greater scrutiny.
The Qatar contingent’s arrival in Milan – marked by the Qatari military cargo plane hitting a lighting tower upon landing – is the latest example of Doha’s expanding role in global sports event security. That role reflects a calculated strategy to position the small energy-rich Gulf state as securing global cultural events while obscuring a troubling record of supporting Islamic fundamentalism.
Qatar has put in a lot of effort – and cash – to look like a solid Western ally, a respectable citizen of the world. But a closer look at the protection Doha has provided for terrorists over decades indicates that the respectability goes no deeper than a chicken costume worn by a fox – and is likely to prove at least as dangerous.
Qatar has made clear its interest in the soft power of global sporting events. In January, Sheikh Joaan bin Hamad Al Thani became president of the Olympic Council of Asia, and Qatar is bidding for the 2036 summer Olympics after hosting the men’s FIFA World Cup in 2022.
Those upstanding roles on the global scene run in parallel to blatant support of antisemitism. As Italy prepared for the Games, Qatar hosted the Web Summit tech conference, which showcased the creator of a new social media platform who told the audience he doesn’t need to rely on “Zionist money” and deployed the classic antisemitic trope that Jews control the media.
Corruption scandals abound, with Qatar standing accused of buying its way into hosting the World Cup. Former FIFA vice president Reynald Temarii was banned by soccer’s world governing body for eight years for accepting hundreds of thousands of euros from a Qatari billionaire, and was indicted by France in 2023 on charges of entering into a 2010 pact to support Qatar’s bid to host the 2022 World Cup. Qatari media also plays a part, with France investigating the role that a $400 million deal between FIFA and Al Jazeera, the flagship network of Qatar’s powerful media arm, may have played in the country’s selection as host.
Qatar’s support for terrorism goes back at least to the pre-9/11 era. Qatar has regularly been in the business of moving money to terror organizations, and was an early supporter of Al Qaeda founder Osama bin Laden, broadcasting his exhortations on Al Jazeera. Top Qatari government officials are thought to have tipped off 9/11 mastermind Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, allowing him to escape an FBI manhunt years before, when he was being investigated for his role in the 1993 bombing of the World Trade Center and plots to blow up international flights.
He was not the only terrorist the country accommodated. In 2013, Doha also became a safe haven for leaders of the Taliban, where they stayed as honored guests living in luxury even after exploratory peace talks with the US broke down, and of course for top Hamas leaders, including Khaled Meshaal, Khalil al-Hayya, and Hamas political chief Ismail Haniyeh.
Qatari officials have expressed support for Hamas, with the mother of the emir eulogizing the architect of the Oct. 7, 2023, massacre in southern Israel. Members of Qatar’s Shura Council declared that the events of Oct. 7 were merely a “preview.”
In another bid for an international leadership role, Qatar recently became a member of US President Donald Trump’s Gaza Executive Board, in one of the Gulf state’s latest attempts to build its reputation as a global keeper of the peace. But Qatar is not a neutral mediator. Giving Qatar a role in the future of Gaza means giving a role to a group that will likely support Hamas’s continued influence over Gaza. This is antithetical to Middle Eastern stability, which requires Hamas to be disarmed and removed from power. Giving Qatar a role perpetuates terrorism and corruption, and puts the security of the Middle East, the US, and the world at risk.
Qatar – which exports more liquefied natural gas than any other country and is one of the richest nations on earth – has managed to maintain good ties with the West, however, in part through the purchase of influence. For example, the US recently announced it will allow Qatar to build an Air Force facility in Idaho, and Doha is a major backer of US think tanks, universities, and politi
Soccer fields and ski slopes may seem like innocent enough playgrounds in which to let Doha romp. But such involvement only allows Qatar to polish its image and extend its influence, letting it build more empty legitimacy of the sort that allows it to be included in the Gaza peacekeeping force. Let’s also not forget that enabling Qatar to bill itself as a safeguard of international sporting events means that a committed sponsor of global terror is actively working to develop a reputation as a protector of some of the world’s most prominent terror targets. Before accepting the next offer of cash from Qatar or inviting the country to participate in peacekeeping activities, it’s well worth considering whether it’s really such a good idea to keep letting the fox guard the henhouse.
Dr. Ariel Admoni is a researcher specializing in Qatari policy at the Jerusalem Institute for Strategy and Security.
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VIDEO: Actor Allen L. Rickman reviews ‘Marty Supreme’ in Yiddish (English subtitles)
Actor Allen L. Rickman, known best for his appearance in the dybbuk scene opening of the film A Serious Man, gives you his take on Josh Safdie’s hit movie Marty Supreme about an ambitious table tennis player who’ll do anything to win the championship, in this Yiddish video with English subtitles.
The post VIDEO: Actor Allen L. Rickman reviews ‘Marty Supreme’ in Yiddish (English subtitles) appeared first on The Forward.