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Letty Cottin Pogrebin wants Jews to own up to the corrosive power of shame
(JTA) — When a lawyer for Donald Trump asked E. Jean Carroll why she didn’t scream while allegedly being raped by Donald Trump, I thought of Letty Cottin Pogrebin. In her latest book, “Shanda: A Memoir of Shame and Secrecy,” she writes about being assaulted by a famous poet — and how the shadow of shame kept women like her silent about attacks on their own bodies.
That incident in 1962, she writes, was “fifty-eight years before the #MeToo movement provided the sisterhood and solidarity that made survivors of abuse and rape feel safe enough to tell their stories.”
Now 83, Pogrebin could have coasted with a memoir celebrating her six decades as a leading feminist: She co-founded Ms. magazine, its Foundation for Women and the National Women’s Political Caucus. She served as president of Americans for Peace Now and in 1982 blew the whistle on antisemitism in the feminist movement.
Instead, “Shanda” is about her immigrant Jewish family and the secrets they carried through their lives. First marriages that were kept hidden. An unacknowledged half-sister. Money problems and domestic abuse. An uncle banished for sharing family dirt in public.
“My mania around secrecy and shame was sparked in 1951 by the discovery that my parents had concealed from me the truth about their personal histories, and every member of my large extended family, on both sides, was in on it,” writes Pogrebin, now 83. “Their need to avoid scandal was so compelling that, once identified, it provided the lens through which I could see my family with fresh eyes, spotlight their fears, and, in so doing, illuminate my own.”
“Shanda” (the Yiddish word describes the kind of behavior that brings shame on an entire family or even a people) is also a portrait of immigrant New York Jews in the 20th century. As her father and mother father move up in the world and leave their Yiddish-speaking, Old World families behind for new lives in the Bronx and Queens, they stand in for a generation of Jews and new Americans “bent on saving face and determined to be, if not exemplary, at least impeccably respectable.”
Pogrebin and I spoke last week ahead of the Eight Over Eighty Gala on May 31, where she will be honored with a group that includes another Jewish feminist icon, the writer Erica Jong, and musician Eve Queler, who founded her own ensemble, the Opera Orchestra of New York, when she wasn’t being given chances to conduct in the male-dominated world of classical music. The gala is a fundraiser for the New Jewish Home, a healthcare nonprofit serving older New Yorkers.
Pogrebin and I spoke about shame and how it plays out in public and private, from rape accusations against a former president to her regrets over how she wrote about her own abortions to how the Bible justifies family trickery.
Our conversation was edited for length and clarity.
I found your book very moving because my parents’ generation, who like your family were middle-class Jews who grew up or lived in the New York metropolitan area, are also all gone now. Your book brought back to me that world of aunts and uncles and cousins, and kids like us who couldn’t imagine what kinds of secrets and traumas our parents and relatives were hiding. But you went back and asked all the questions that many of us are afraid to ask.
I can’t tell you how good writing it has been. I feel as though I have no weight on my back. And people who have read it gained such comfort from the normalization that happens when you read that others have been through what you’ve been through. And my family secrets are so varied — just one right after the other. The chameleon-like behavior of that generation — they became who they wanted to be through pretense or actual accomplishment.
In my mother’s case, pretense led the way. She went and got a studio photo that made it look like she graduated from high school when she didn’t. In the eighth grade, she went up to her uncle’s house in the north Bronx and had her dates pick her up there because of the shanda of where she lived on the Lower East Side with nine people in three rooms. She had to imagine herself the child of her uncle, who didn’t have an accent or had an accent but at least spoke English.
You describe yours as “an immigrant family torn between loyalty to their own kind and longing for American acceptance.”
There was the feeling that, “If only we could measure up, we would be real Americans.” My mother was a sewing machine operator who became a designer and figured out what American women wore when she came from rags and cardboard shoes, in steerage. So I admire them. As much as I was discomforted by the lies, I ended up having compassion for them.
It’s also a story of thwarted women, and all that lost potential of a generation in which few could contemplate a college degree or a career outside the home. Your mother worked for a time as a junior designer for Hattie Carnegie, a sort of Donna Karan of her day, but abandoned that after she met your dad and became, as you write, “Mrs. Jack Cottin.”
The powerlessness of women was complicated in the 1950s by the demands of the masculine Jewish ideal. So having a wife who didn’t work was proof that you were a man who could provide. As a result women sacrificed their own aspirations and passions. She protected her husband’s image by not pursuing her life outside the home. In a way my feminism is a positive, like a photograph, to the negative of my mother’s 1950s womanhood.
“I’m not an optimist. I call myself a ‘cockeyed strategist,” said Pogrebin, who has a home on the Upper West Side. (Mike Lovett)
You write that you “think of shame and secrecy as quintessentially Jewish issues.” What were the Jewish pressures that inspired your parents to tell so many stories that weren’t true?
Think about what we did. We hid behind our names. We changed our names. We sloughed off our accents. My mother learned to make My*T*Fine pudding instead of gefilte fish. Shame and secrecy have always been intrinsically Jewish to me, because of the “sha!” factor: At every supper party, there would be the moment when somebody would say, “Sha! We don’t talk about that!” So even though we talked about what felt like everything, there were things that couldn’t be touched: illness, the C-word [cancer]. If you wanted to make a shidduch [wedding match] with another family in the insular communities in which Jews lived, you couldn’t let it be known that there was cancer in the family, or mental illness.
While I was writing this memoir, I realized that the [Torah portion] I’m listening to one Shabbat morning is all about hiding. It is Jacob finding out that he didn’t marry Rachel, after all, but married somebody he didn’t love. All of the hiding that I took for granted in the Bible stories and I was raised on like mother’s milk was formative. They justified pretense, and they justified trickery. Rebecca lied to her husband and presented her younger son Jacob for the blessing because God told her, because it was for the greater good of the future the Jewish people.
I think Jews felt that same sort of way when it came to surviving. So we can get rid of our names. We wouldn’t have survived, whether we were hiding in a forest or behind a cabinet, a name or a passport, or [pushed into hiding] with [forced] conversions. Hiding was survival.
I was reading your book just as the E. Jean Carroll verdict came down, holding Donald Trump liable for sexually assaulting her during an encounter in the mid-’90s. You write how in 1962, when you were working as a book publicist, the hard-drinking Irish poet Brendan Behan (who died in 1964) tried to rape you in a hotel room and you didn’t report it. Like Carroll, you didn’t think that it was something that could be reported because the cost was too high.
Certainly in that era powerful men could get away with horrible behavior because of shanda reasons.
Carroll said in her court testimony, “It was shameful to go to the police.”
You know that it happened to so many others and nobody paid the price. The man’s reputation was intact and we kept our jobs because we sacrificed our dignity and our truth. I was in a career, and I really was supporting myself. I couldn’t afford to lose my job. I would have been pilloried for having gone to his hotel room, and nobody was there when he picked up an ashtray and threatened to break the window of the Chelsea Hotel unless I went up there with him.The cards were stacked against me.
In “Shanda,” you write about another kind of shame: The shame you now feel decades later about how you described the incident in your first book. You regret “how blithely I transformed an aggravated assault by a powerful man into a ‘sticky sexual encounter.’”
I wrote about the incident in such offhand terms, and wonder why. I wrote, basically, “Okay, girls, you’re gonna have to put up with this, but you’re gonna have to find your own magical sentence like I had with Behan” to get him to stop.
You write that you said, “You can’t do this to me! I’m a nice Jewish girl!” And that got him to back off.
Really painful.
I think that’s a powerful aspect of your book — how you look back at the ways you let down the movement or your family or friends and now regret. In 1991 you wrote a New York Times essay about an illegal abortion you had as a college senior in 1958, but not the second one you had only a few months later. While you were urging women to tell their stories of abortion, you note how a different shame kept you from telling the whole truth.
Jewish girls could be, you know, plain or ordinary, but they had to be smart, and I had been stupid. I could out myself as one of the many millions of women who had an abortion but not as a Jewish girl who made the same mistake [of getting pregnant] twice.
The book was written before the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade. In the book you write powerfully about the shame, danger and loneliness among women when abortion was illegal, and now, after 50 years, it is happening again. Having been very much part of the generation of activists that saw Roe become the law of the land, how have you processed its demise?
Since the 1970s, we thought everything was happening in this proper linear way. We got legislation passed, we had litigation and we won, and we saw the percentage of women’s participation in the workplace all across professions and trades and everything else rise and rise. And then Ronald Reagan was elected and then there was the Moral Majority and then it was the Hyde Amendment [barring the use of federal funds to pay for abortion]. I was sideswiped because I think I was naive enough to imagine that once we articulated what feminism was driving at and why women’s rights were important, and how the economic reality of families and discrimination against women weren’t just women’s issues, people would internalize it and understand it and justice would be done.
In the case of Roe, we could not imagine that rights could ever be taken away. We didn’t do something that we should have done, which is to have outed ourselves in a big way. It’s not enough that abortion was legal. We allowed it to remain stigmatized. We allowed the right wing to create their own valence around it. That negated solidarity. If we had talked about abortion as healthcare, if we had had our stories published and created organizations around remembering what it was like and people telling their stories about when abortion was illegal and dangerous…. Instead we allowed the religious right to prioritize [fetal] cells over a woman’s life. We just were not truthful with each other, so we didn’t create solidarity.
Are you heartened by the backlash against restrictive new laws in red states or optimistic that the next wave of activism can reclaim the right to abortion?
I’m not an optimist. I call myself a “cockeyed strategist.” If you look at my long resume, it is all about organizing: Ms. magazine, feminist organizations, women’s foundations, Black-Jewish dialogues, Torah study groups and Palestinian-Jewish dialogues.
Number one, we have to own the data and reframe the narrative. We have to open channels for discussion for women who have either had one or know someone who has had one, even in religious Catholic families. The state-by-state strategy was really slow, but Ruth Bader Ginsburg wanted that. She almost didn’t get on the court because she didn’t like the nationwide, right-to-privacy strategy of Roe but instead wanted it won state by state, which would have required campaigns of acceptance and consciousness-raising.
So, the irony is she hasn’t lived to see that we’re going to have to do it her way.
You share a lot of family secrets in this book. Is this a book that you waited to write until, I’ll try to put this gently, most of the people had died?
I started this book when I was 78 years old, and there’s always a connection to my major birthdays. And turning 80 – you experience that number and it is so weird. It doesn’t describe me and it probably won’t describe you. I thought, this could well be my last book, so I needed to be completely transparent, put it all out there.
My mother and father and aunts and uncles were gone, but I have 24 cousins altogether. I went to my cousins, and told them I am going to write about the secret of your parents: It’s my uncle, but it’s your father. It’s your family story even though it’s my family, but it’s yours first. And every cousin, uniformly, said, “Are you kidding? You don’t even know the half of it,” and they’d tell me the whole story. I guess people want the truth out in the end.
Is that an aspect of getting older?
I think it’s a promise of liberation, which is what I have found. It’s this experience of being free from anything that I’ve hid. I don’t have to hide. Years ago, on our 35th wedding anniversary, we took our whole family to the Tenement Museum because we wanted them to see how far we’ve come in two generations.
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He was Zohran Mamdani’s Jewish wingman. What’s next for Brad Lander?
(JTA) — When Brad Lander and Zohran Mamdani were jointly honored at a left-wing Jewish event in September, the two politicians’ alliance was at the center of the evening.
Lander, who had cross-endorsed Mamdani in the Democratic primary months earlier, said he was “proud to be a Jew for Zohran” during his speech at the Mazals gala, hosted by Jews for Racial and Economic Justice. The pair hugged onstage as comedian Ilana Glazer introduced them. The mood was celebratory, albeit sprinkled with cautious reminders that there was still a general election to win.
Nearly two months later, Mamdani fulfilled expectations with an election win. Lander would attend his election night rally, celebrating Andrew Cuomo’s loss with a T-shirt that read “Good f—ing riddance.”
But his future in the city’s new order was uncertain. After Lander reportedly angled for a top position in Mamdani’s City Hall, Mamdani filled out his leadership team with others, leaving Lander in the cold when his tenure as comptroller ends next month. Now, he appears to be considering a run for Congress in his district, setting up a potential rare instance of a Jewish progressive challenging a Jewish centrist.
“I won’t be making any news tonight,” Lander warned with a smile at an event Wednesday night for Standing Together, an Israel-Palestinian peace-building organization. Supporters greeted him after the event, many saying they’d be happy to canvass and vote for him should he run for Congress.
“There are many ways to serve, and I will have more to say about the ones that I am looking forward to in the future,” Lander said in an interview after the event.
Lander told Crain’s New York Business last week that he is “very seriously considering” challenging Rep. Dan Goldman in New York’s 10th Congressional District in next year’s midterm Democratic primary. A poll taken last month suggests that he would stand a strong chance.
Israel would likely weigh heavily in a Lander-Goldman matchup. Lander is a self-described liberal Zionist whose criticism of Israel has intensified since his alliance with Mamdani, a longtime anti-Zionist. Goldman is a moderate who did not endorse in the general election for mayor, saying he was “very concerned about some of the rhetoric coming from Zohran Mamdani,” and that he wanted to see Mamdani condemn “violence in the name of anti-Israel, anti-Zionism.”
The New York Times reported on Friday that Mamdani had urged Lander to challenge Goldman — in the same conversation where he told Lander he wouldn’t be hiring him at City Hall.
The 10th Congressional District covers Lower Manhattan, as well as parts of western and central Brooklyn, where Lander was a three-term City Council member. While Lower Manhattan was more split in the general election, most of the district’s Brooklyn neighborhoods voted overwhelmingly for Mamdani. The district also includes part of Borough Park, a neighborhood with a large Orthodox Jewish population that strongly supported the centrist mayoral candidate, Andrew Cuomo.
There has been an appetite in progressive circles for Goldman to be replaced in 2026 by a candidate more aligned with their politics. “Dump Dan” flyers were handed out to people lining up for Wednesday’s event with Lander, held in a Brooklyn Heights church that falls within the district.
“I would love to see Brad in Congress,” said Arlene Geiger, founder and coordinator of the Upper West Side Action Group, which endorsed Lander in the Democratic mayoral primary.
“I think he’s progressive and Dan Goldman is very tied to AIPAC,” she continued, referring to the Israel lobby that is seen as increasingly toxic by Democrats. “I don’t like his position on the Middle East at all. He’s more of a centrist.”
Geiger’s group is based outside the district, but she said in an interview that it “would be happy to be working” on Lander’s campaign to challenge Goldman.
A September poll by Data for Progress surveyed voters in the 10th congressional district; in a two-man race between Goldman and Lander, the poll found that Lander would win 52-33.
But Democratic strategist Trip Yang advised pumping the brakes, pointing out that polls taken so far in advance of an election “don’t matter as much” and that incumbents bring an advantage. Plus, he noted, City Council member Alexa Aviles, who’s reported to have interest in the seat, could pose an obstacle for Lander.
“In a lot of ways, Alexa Aviles has a higher ceiling as a congressional candidate than Brad Lander,” Yang said, pointing out that 20% of the district is Latino, and that she would likely have the Democratic Socialists of America’s endorsement, giving her more of “the Zohran imprint.”
At first, the DSA privately committed not to endorse any of Lander’s hypothetical opponents, but — after Lander held out while awaiting a potential job under Mamdani — has since voted to back Aviles, a longtime member, the New York Times reported on Friday, adding that multiple sources said Mamdani has said he would back Lander. Maneuvering is reportedly underway within the left-wing group, which counts the mayor-elect as its most prominent member, to avert the progressive split that delivered the seat for Goldman in 2022.
While already a known quantity as the city’s top financial officer, Lander gained “the Zohran imprint” himself by closely associating with the mayoral frontrunner since June. Lander also gained recognition over his recent protests against ICE, for which he was arrested by federal agents at an immigration court.
After finishing third in the ranked-choice primary, Lander actively stumped for Mamdani throughout the general election campaign to help defeat Cuomo a second time.
“I was proud to do that — I have been proud all the way through the general election campaign to campaign with him, side by side,” Lander said this week. He added that he would “continue to work in close partnership” with Mamdani to achieve his campaign goals.
Throughout the election, Lander worked to ease concerns from many Jewish New Yorkers about Mamdani’s position on Israel, including his support for the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions movement. Lander sought to reinforce Mamdani’s commitment to the safety of Jewish New Yorkers, and showcased the democratic socialist’s engagement with Jewish communities.
He brought Mamdani to the progressive synagogue Kolot Chayeinu, where Lander is a member, for Rosh Hashanah services, and accompanied Mamdani for Kol Nidre services at another progressive congregation.
He spoke highly of Mamdani at the Mazals. “Having an immigrant Muslim mayor with a genuinely inclusive vision — and that brilliant smile — it offers us a chance for us to strengthen what is, for so many of us, so deeply Jewish about this city,” Lander said. “And that’s why I’m proud to be a Jew for Zohran.”
Critics said Lander’s efforts merely “kosherized” antisemitism at a time when fierce reaction to the war in Gaza led to Jews feeling unsafe and isolated, and anti-Jewish attacks rose.
“Lander is part of a larger story of the collapse of New York’s Jewish-political establishment, which has forced Jews to seek representation in non-Jewish politicians who inevitably get told to mind their business when they criticize anti-Semitism,” the conservative pundit Seth Mandel wrote in Commentary in June. “Lander has played an important role in this collapse by being a sherpa of sorts for rising Jew-baiters.”
And as the election wore on, Lander seemingly moved closer toward Mamdani’s positions; he began using the term “genocide” to describe Israel’s military campaign in Gaza — a term he had previously refrained from using — during a Yom Kippur service in October.
Lander credited that shift in terminology to conversations he had with his daughter, who had read Raphael Lemkin — the Holocaust survivor who coined the term “genocide” — in a college class.
“She had read a lot of Lemkin and she brought it forward to me, and pushed me pretty hard,” he said. “And we had a lot of conversation, debate back and forth — we’re not so different from many other families full of liberal Zionist parents and further left kids.”
He added, “You can continue to be a liberal Zionist who believes in the vision of Israel as a Jewish and democratic state, and be honest about what Israel has been doing to Palestinians in Gaza, and the West Bank as well.”
In his efforts to warm Jewish voters to the idea of voting for Mamdani, Lander spoke to groups like the Upper West Side Action Group — which had endorsed him in the primary — and took questions about Mamdani from an audience that was mostly Jewish.
Geiger, the group’s coordinator, said Lander’s endorsement helped grow Mamdani’s support among their voters who were unsure because of the candidate’s stance on Israel, as well as the 34-year-old Assembly member’s lack of executive experience.
“There were those, I think, who were swayed by Brad’s endorsement because they like Brad, and knew him,” said Geiger, who is Jewish.
Yang said he believed that Lander’s advocacy boosted Mamdani’s appeal. “I don’t know if Zohran has this big of a winning margin without Brad Lander,” he said. “You have to give Brad credit for this.”
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Is dining-hall matzah ‘DEI’? The answer isn’t clear to UVA’s pushed-out ex-president.
(JTA) — Months after being forced out as president of the University of Virginia, Jim Ryan is still pondering Passover food.
More specifically, Ryan, who was pushed out of the role over the summer amid mounting GOP pressure on the public university, cited the topic as an example of why he was confused about the “DEI ban” imposed earlier this year by the public school’s board. The ban had been drafted by the office of the state’s Republican governor.
“It’s not clear even today what it means to kill DEI,” Ryan wrote in a letter Friday to the UVA faculty senate telling his side of the story.
He went on: “For example, did it mean that we could no longer try to recruit qualified first-generation students from rural parts of Virginia, or offer financial aid, or even serve matzah in the dining halls during Passover, because each of those efforts would be advancing diversity, equity, and/or inclusion?”
The candid look behind the curtain was a reflection of broader struggles on campuses to satisfy conservative demands on both antisemitism and DEI. As the Trump administration has taken up the mantle of campus antisemitism after the Oct. 7 attacks, it has strong-armed universities to make substantial changes in order to preserve their federal funding — not just to its dealings with Jewish students, but also to other conservative hobbyhorses like DEI initiatives.
The first public university to strike a deal with Trump to end an antisemitism investigation, UVA was also quick to fall in behind a “DEI ban.” The school is now becoming a flashpoint as Glenn Youngkin, the outgoing Republican governor who pushed the DEI ban, and Democratic Gov.-elect Abigail Spanberger, elected as part of a broader “blue wave” opposing Trump, are warring over who gets to appoint Ryan’s replacement.
Ryan, who remains an emeritus professor at the school, wrote that he felt compelled to revisit his resignation because Youngkin’s assertions about the state of affairs at UVA needed to be corrected.
“I think it is time to set the record straight, which will hopefully enable UVA to make all necessary changes in order to end this chapter and begin a fresh, new chapter in the history of a remarkable university,” Ryan wrote.
The DEI ban was only part of UVA’s turmoil this summer. A subsequent Justice Department investigation into the school’s student admissions and hiring practices, Ryan wrote, soon expanded without warning into an antisemitism investigation.
“We assembled voluminous information related to admissions for one or more of our twelve schools, and a few days before the deadline for submission, we would receive another DOJ inquiry asking about another school,” he wrote. “They also sent a letter asking about antisemitism and one alleged incident of antisemitism in particular. Each time the scope of the DOJ inquiry expanded, our lawyers asked for and received extensions for submission of material.”
Ryan did not elaborate on the specifics of the “one alleged incident of antisemitism” in his letter but said that investigators’ interest in antisemitism seemed to be “part of a pattern” of the DOJ throwing more and more allegations against the school. He also speculated that the investigators were simply using such allegations as a leverage tactic against the school.
“It is impossible for me to know, but the timing of the DOJ letters, the ever expanding scope of their inquiries, and their willingness to give us extension after extension made me wonder more than once if the DOJ was not actually interested in our response,” he wrote. He came to conclude that the government wouldn’t drop its investigations, including on antisemitism, unless he stepped down.
Ryan did so this June, after which UVA reached a settlement with the government to drop its antisemitism investigation and others. Unlike other university deals with Trump, this one did not require UVA to pay a fine. Instead, the school agreed to abide by Justice Department guidelines on other issues not related to antisemitism, including the school’s existing general ban on DEI.
As for matzah in the dining hall, no school has yet been criticized as excessively inclusive for offering kosher food. In fact, several universities facing allegations of antisemitism tied to their handling of anti-Israel protests have expanded their kosher dining-hall offerings as part of their overtures to Jewish students.
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Following uproar, IDF cantor to perform at Amsterdam Hanukkah concert after all — but not for everyone
(JTA) — The IDF’s chief cantor will be allowed to perform for Hanukkah in Amsterdam’s Royal Concert Hall — but not for everyone — after tensions over Israel ripped through one of the city’s most popular Jewish celebrations.
The Royal Concert Hall, or Concertgebouw, last week canceled the performance to be hosted by the Chanukah Concert Foundation because it featured Shai Abramson, the “representative cantor of the State of Israel” and chief cantor of the Israeli army. The organization said it based this decision on “the IDF’s active involvement in a controversial war” and “Abramson’s visible representation of that institution.”
The Chanukah Concert Foundation responded by threatening a lawsuit over “restriction of religious freedom.” The conflict spread to protests, rifts in the Jewish community and a war of words between the Israeli government and the mayor of Amsterdam. But on Wednesday, the Concertgebouw and the Jewish foundation announced a compromise.
They settled on separate concerts on Dec. 14, the eve of Hanukkah. During the afternoon, the Concertgebouw will host a public, family-focused concert without Abramson. In the evening, as sundown falls and the first Hanukkah candle is lit, Abramson will sing at two private concerts in the same hall for guests who already bought tickets to see him.
“Over the past week, we have seen the situation escalate into tension. We agree that this damaging trend must stop,” the organizations said in a joint statement. They added that proceeds from Abramson’s concerts would be donated to “a charity that promotes social cohesion in the city.”
Across the Netherlands, residents have grown increasingly critical of Israel and its two-year campaign in Gaza. A survey in September found that 58% of Dutch people wanted their government to take tougher actions against Israel, including boycotts, statements that Israel is committing genocide and recognition of a Palestinian state.
Abramson’s cancellation prompted an outcry among some prominent Dutch Jews and Jewish organizations.
Former lawyer Oscar Hammerstein called for a boycott of the Concertgebouw in the newspaper De Telegraaf. Leon de Winter, Jewish Dutch novelist and columnist for the paper, wrote that “Joseph Goebbels would happily give the Concertgebouw management a pat on the back.”
Dozens of people have protested outside the Concertgebouw in recent days. They were supported by the Center for Information and Documentation on Israel, a Dutch group that advocates for Israel and Jews.
David Serphos, a board member and spokesperson of the Chanukah Concert Foundation, said the cancellation “caused a lot of pain” among many Dutch Jews who see the Concertgebouw as a special place. The building first hosted a Hanukkah concert in December 1914, according to Barry Mehler, the head of a separate Hanukkah concert for the Jewish Music Concerts Foundation. The tradition was interrupted by World War II and revived only in 2015.
“It’s situated in a part of the city where a lot of Jews live,” Serphos said in an interview. “A lot of Jews go to the Concertgebouw either weekly or monthly. They are regular guests.”
An anti-Zionist Dutch Jewish group is planning to protest outside the Concertgebouw on Dec. 14, the day of the Hanukkah concerts, when they will also light a menorah. The group, Erev Rav, an anti-Zionist Jewish group, garnered over 2,200 signatures on a petition backing the Concertgebouw’s cancellation decision and said it was “deeply disappointed” by the compromise with the Chanukah Concert Foundation.
“The Concertgebouw’s initial refusal to provide a stage to a representative of a military perpetrating mass atrocities was a principled position grounded in an understanding of the way Zionist propaganda, including through the arts, sustains a genocidal regime,” Erev Rav said on Instagram, where it also accused the “Dutch Zionist lobby” of conflating anti-Zionism with antisemitism.
The Israeli government exerted its own pressure on the Concergebouw. Diaspora Minister Amichai Chikli said in a letter to Amsterdam Mayor Femke Halsema on Nov. 4 that Abramson’s cancellation was “an act of moral cowardice and discrimination.”
Referencing the Holocaust history of the Netherlands, where 75% of Dutch Jews were killed, Chikli said, “Once again, Jews are being told that their identity, their art, and their connection to Israel make them unwelcome.”
Halsema lashed back in her own letter. Acknowledging “the fear and pain felt within Amsterdam’s Jewish community,” she said that she “strongly and unequivocally” rejected Chikli’s suggestion of antisemitism by the Concertgebouw.
“I find the comparison with the persecution and extermination of Jews during the Second World War beyond despicable,” said Halsema. “That history demands accuracy and integrity, not instrumentalization.” She also rebuked “any attempt to pressure or intimidate” local leadership and said that Amsterdam “will not be governed by foreign institutions, nor driven by external political agendas.”
Serphos said the Chanukah Concert Foundation was satisfied with their compromise and hoped to move on from the conflict.
“We want to continue working with the Concertgebouw,” he said. “We want to look ahead and not look back, and we’re happy that we managed to find common ground.”
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