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London Jewish Museum to close indefinitely and look for new location
LONDON (JTA) — London’s Jewish Museum is to close indefinitely next month and begin hunting for a new home for its collection of 40,000 objects, one of the largest of its kind in Europe.
The rising costs of maintaining its current premises in northwest London and a difficult fundraising environment exacerbated an already precarious financial situation for the museum, its chairman Nick Viner told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. The Jewish Museum intends to close its doors at the end of June and be out of its current building on Albert Street by the end of the year.
Viner said that the museum had been working on a “vision for the future” that would have seen it move to a building better tailored to the institution’s needs, but that the board had decided that it was no longer possible to make that transition seamlessly.
“We realized that it wasn’t possible to fund the ongoing museum, where the costs were going up significantly, and to focus on a future,” he explained. “We decided that we would pause — move out of the building, sell it, and use the funds to help us over the next period, so that we can continue to operate in a transition mode.”
The Jewish Museum, which had been struggling even prior to COVID-19, was forced into restructuring and layoffs during the pandemic, and it pivoted heavily towards educational programs.
Those programs will continue, and the museum also intends to operate temporary exhibitions in smaller spaces around London, while the rest of the collection is put in storage or loaned temporarily to other institutions.
“There is an opportunity to have parts of the collection that haven’t been seen be accessible to people in different parts of the country, which could be very exciting,” Viner said. “We are just starting to look at how it would work practically, and whether others can house parts of the collection safely.”
Among the rare objects that risk slipping out of view are the oldest Hanukkah menorah made in Britain, which has been displayed since the museum was founded in 1932, and a 17th-century Venetian synagogue ark. The Jewish Museum also houses collections from the Jewish Military Museum, the United Synagogue and the Jewish Historical Society.
But the institution’s small building meant that only 5% of its objects were displayed. It has historically also had a smaller profile than its counterparts on the continent, which operate largely based on public funding and have become more firmly entrenched on both Jewish and non-Jewish tourists trails and local cultural scenes.
“We are very conscious that the U.K. has the second largest Jewish community in Europe and that London’s museum is both very small and a very different kind of space from some of the great Jewish museums around Europe,” said Viner. “We feel that we have so many fantastic stories to tell and so much to show that we ought to have a museum that reflects that, but it will only work if the community is ultimately supportive.”
The museum will have to rely heavily on donors within the Jewish community to ensure its long-term future, as funds from the Arts Council England, a British government-funded body, are insufficient on their own to ensure its sustainability.
Recent records show that in the twelve months up to March 2022, the revenue of the Jewish Museum was hovering at just over a third of pre-COVID levels. The museum was granted National Portfolio status by Arts Council England last year, a label that provides it with a stream of over $280,000 a year until 2026. It had previously received an injection of over $1 million by the Arts Council during the pandemic.
“There is always a risk when you don’t have the fundraising that you cannot continue,” added Viner, who said that it was still uncertain how much the Jewish Museum was looking to raise. “There are different models. It could be a very significant amount, or it can be smaller depending on the scale and the nature of the [future] building. I wouldn’t want to put a future on it.”
While there is currently no specific location in mind for a future site, there is an understanding that an area with more foot traffic is vital. The current site, on a side street, is unlikely to be noticed by many curious tourists or long-time Jewish residents of London. There is also a hope that any future site, whether newly built or purchased, would have outdoor space and permit greater flexibility than the Albert Street building.
The Jewish Museum moved to Camden in 1994. Its current home has been the same since 2010, when it purchased a former piano factory behind the site and remodeled and combined the buildings.
The museum, which had previously put on widely acclaimed exhibitions on Amy Winehouse, Jewish cartoonists and Jewish soccer history in Britain, had also not been able to put on temporary exhibitions since the pandemic because of the cost.
“Exhibitions and work with our collection is a lot more expensive,” said Viner. “We believe that education is really important, but we also have a fantastic collection and lots of stories to tell. We need to find a way to do that too.”
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The post London Jewish Museum to close indefinitely and look for new location appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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In her inspired and inspiring history of the Jewish Bund, Molly Crabapple has found her anti-Zionist heroes for our time
Here Where We Live Is Our Country: The Story of the Jewish Labor Bund
By Molly Crabapple
One World, 453 pages, $32
The week of Passover, north Brooklyn bus riders found something unusual at several bus shelters. Swapped out for paid ads were quotes including one translated from a 1938 essay in Tsukunft, a Yiddish literary monthly once published by the Forward Association.
“If a Jewish state should arise in Palestine,” it read, “its spiritual climate will be eternal fear of the external enemy (Arabs); eternal struggle for every bit of ground with the internal enemy (Arabs); and an untiring struggle for the extermination of the language and culture of the non-Hebraized Jews of Palestine. Is this a climate in which freedom, democracy and progress can grow?”
There are pithier anti-Zionist slogans graffitied in Brooklyn, but this quote was from Henryk Erlich, a leader of the Jewish Labor Bund, a staunchly anti-Zionist socialist party founded in Vilna in 1897 that became the most influential political party among prewar Eastern European Jews.
The bus shelter takeover was part of a guerrilla ad campaign for Here Where We Live Is Our Country: The Story of the Jewish Labor Bund, a new book by the artist, activist and writer Molly Crabapple. The campaign, which started the same week the Justice Department sued Harvard University, accusing it of tolerating antisemitism by failing to crack down on anti-Zionist student protesters, also included wheatpasted posters of a model in fishnets holding Crabapple’s book.
The Trump administration and leading American Jewish groups like the Anti-Defamation League and American Jewish Committee argue that opposing Zionism, defined as Israel’s right to exist as a Jewish state, is antisemitic; Crabapple’s response is a 400-page Jewish history lesson.
Before World War II, most Jews were not Zionists. Many Orthodox communities felt that forming a Jewish state was heresy, others thought the mass migration of 9 million Jews from a hostile Europe was impractical. The Bund’s opposition to Zionism was not religious or pragmatic; it was ideological. Bundists argued that the future of Jews was linked to all workers, and they should stay and fight repression in Europe, not leave. They called this form of solidarity doikayt, Yiddish for here-ness, as opposed to Zionism’s there-ness.
Crabapple places the Bund, initially an outlawed group in Tsarist Russia, at the center of both the failed 1905 and successful 1917 revolutions. In interwar Poland, as a legal party, it became the most powerful Jewish political movement, even winning seats in municipal elections, and during the Holocaust, Bundists became ghetto fighters and partisans. But the Bund was purged by Stalin, who killed Erlich four years after his Tsukunft essay, and decimated by the Nazis. In postwar America, the Bund was mostly forgotten.
Crabapple, a member of the Democratic Socialists of America and an Occupy Wall Street alumna, learned of the Bund through a watercolor by her great-grandfather the artist Sam Rothbort. The painting, set in the Belarusian shtetl of his youth, shows a young woman in a blue dress throwing a rock through a cottage window. The caption reads: “Itka, the Bundist.”
In her 2018 New York Review of Books essay “My Great-Grandfather the Bundist,” Crabapple recounts discovering that Rothbort’s activism in Tsarist Russia forced him to flee to New York in 1904.
Since the publication of her article, Crabapple spent six years learning Yiddish, visited the former centers of Eastern Europe Jewish life, and dug through obscure Yiddish socialist tomes to produce her book. During the same time, Hamas attacked Israel on Oct. 7, 2023 and Israel responded by killing over 70,000 in Gaza in attacks which many, including the Israeli human rights group B’Tselem, have called a genocide. At the time of this writing, Israel is occupying southern Lebanon and along with the United States is at war with Iran. For the first time, Gallup polls show more Americans sympathize with Palestinians than with Israelis, and an increasing number of younger Jews have rejected Zionism outright and are rediscovering the Bund.
Crabapple’s book is written for this moment. More than translating Bundist theory from Yiddish, she puts it into the language of today’s left. When Julius Martov declared in 1894 “that Jewish workers were oppressed both as workers and as Jews, as a race and a class,” Crabapple explains that he was invoking what the modern-day scholar Kimberlé Crenshaw calls “intersectionality” and was a form of “identity politics.”
To tell the Bund story, Crabapple focuses on a cast of characters including Erlich’s wife, the poet and activist Sophia Dubnow; the militant leader Bernard Goldstein; the famous ghetto smuggler Vladka Meed (nee Feigele Peltel); and her own great-grandfather Sam Rothbort. In some instances, she relies on memoirs; for Rothbort, she interprets the hundreds of paintings and sculptures in her great-aunt’s Brooklyn home and pulls on genealogical threads from her mother’s shoebox of family papers.
Crabapple, whose artwork is in the permanent collection of MoMA and the Rubin Museum, and has posters currently on display at the Poster House, introduces each character with an ink drawing portrait. Her artwork tends to lay bare her political perspective. She renders Donald Trump grotesque, while her sketches of Bundists are more similar to her portraits that glorify leftist icons like Luigi Mangione, the accused assassin of the United Health Care CEO Brian Thompson.
When asked in 2020 on the progressive Jewish podcast Treyf if progressives were engaging with a “romanticized fantasy of the Bund,” she didn’t disagree. “There’s actually a great value to simplified and aesthetic symbols in politics,” she said. “The fantasy of the Bund that I see is a muscly Jewish guy in a newsboy cap saying ‘fuck the Zionists’ with one middle finger while the other hand punches a Nazi.”
Here Where We Live Is Our Country is not a caricature of the Bund, nor a work of fan fiction; it’s a deeply researched portrait, but at its core lies this romantic vision. The Bund ran soup kitchens, sports programs and day camps, and promoted the Yiddish language, but Crabapple is most attracted to their street-fighting militancy. And her narrative can be one-sided. The Erlich quote in the book and on the bus shelter was part of a public debate with his father-in-law, the historian Simon Dubnow. Dubnow’s response goes untold.
But there are plenty of academic texts that dissect 90-year-old political debates. Crabapple’s book is different, and better for it. Here Where We Live Is Our Country reads like an epic novel with the Bundists as its tragic heroes.
Crabapple, as narrator, relates her experiences protesting at the 2011 Occupy Wall Street encampment, canvassing housing projects with the DSA, reporting from the West Bank and Gaza, and traveling through war-torn Ukraine. The personal interjections remind the reader that this is not a dispassionate history. Naomi Klein’s blurb praises the book as “a portal to an irresistible, lost world,” but Crabapple’s goal is not to write an elegy. She calls the Bund’s history a “candle to illuminate the tumultuous present” and hopes her book “serves as a guide to our urgent moment.” She decouples Zionism from Jewishness and shows that anti-Zionism alone is not antisemitic, but she leaves largely unresolved the question of what the Bund’s example demands of us today.
The Bund organized eastern European Jewish workers who lacked basic civil rights. Today’s challenge is less about Jewish empowerment, than it is about how Jews wield power, vis-a-vis the state of Israel and its military. In the book, however, Israel barely appears as an actual place where millions of Jews and Palestinians live. Instead, Israel is seen through the prism of its founding ideology, Zionism — one which pre-war Bundists argued adopted the worst quality of European ethno-nationalism.
As the Erlich quote argues, a Jewish state in Israel was destined to repeat endless cycles of violence and tribalism. In this view, the socialist kibbutzes that seduced leftists like a young Bernie Sanders or the overtures of peace and coexistence by Liberal Zionists like Yitzhak Rabin, are all illusions. For Crabapple, the inescapable reality of Zionism is instead the right-wing Benjamin Netanyahu, the violent settlers, and increasingly brutal wars and occupation.
The antidote is the Bundists’ concept of solidarity — where Jews join with the workers of the world but, unlike in Communism, hold on to their Jewish identity. One of the quotes Crabapple returns to several times is from the Socialist Congressman and Bundist ally Meyer London in 1905, where he inverts the story of Exodus: “Are you aware that in Russian Poland, thousands of our Jewish boys and girls are giving their lives for liberty? They pray to God, not to lead them again out of Egypt, but to help them to free Egypt.”
The quote, like Crabapple’s book, is poetic and noble. It goes against everything I learned in Hebrew School, yet somehow reflects Jewish values in its call to be empathetic to the oppressed, because we “were once a stranger in a strange land.”
Reflecting on a 1938 Erlich speech about the rise of Nazism, where he calls on Polish Jews to stand in solidarity with the same people who had carried out pogroms across their country, Crabapple writes: “This was it. There was only Egypt, the Bund knew, and they were stuck with the Egyptians. They were people first, not Jews or goys.” It is a beautiful and heartbreaking line, knowing what came next.
This tragic solidarity is presented as a point of inspiration, but how? The 2023 Jewish Voices for Peace cease-fire protest that filled Grand Central Terminal is offered as an example of Bundist-like solidarity in action, but Crabapple, who has supported a cultural boycott of Israel, stops short of prescribing what this anti-Zionism should mean today.
Vast numbers of Jews, including Bundists, did leave Egypt and cross into Israel — not not because of ideology or religion, but because of history. American labor leader David Dubinsky, who is featured in the book, was exiled to Siberia by the Tsar and escaped to New York, where he co-founded the Jewish Labor Committee in 1934, providing Bundists critical support during the Holocaust.
In his memoirs, Dubinsky recalls telling David Ben-Gurion after the war, “even though I am sympathetic to the creation of Israel, I am not a Zionist.” He then spent decades steering American labor to support Israel financially and politically.
Crabapple also includes Vladka Meed, the celebrated ghetto smuggler, drawing on her memoir Both Sides of the Wall, the proceeds of whose English edition were donated to the Ghetto Fighters’ House Museum in Israel, where Meed led groups of Americans on educational trips.
The historian David Slucki in his 2012 book, The International Jewish Labor Bund after 1945, finds that over time the Bund came to terms with the state of Israel; the Bund’s World Coordinating Committee accepted it as an important Jewish community, but not the sole political and cultural center, and eventually advocated a two-state solution.
It’s hard to imagine the Bund simply “Standing with Israel” today. But nearly half of Americans under 30 describe Hamas as a militant resistance group rather than a terrorist organization, and anti-Zionism has been taken up by far right antisemites. Crabapple doesn’t spell out what the Bundist response would be today; she leaves that to the reader. What she does is resurrect a buried political tradition in a way her Bundist heroes would appreciate: not just in book form, but in the streets for everyday Brooklyn bus riders.
The post In her inspired and inspiring history of the Jewish Bund, Molly Crabapple has found her anti-Zionist heroes for our time appeared first on The Forward.
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Long Island town ordered to pay $19M after blocking Chabad synagogue construction
(JTA) — After nearly two decades of legal sparring, a town on Long Island has been ordered to pay a local Chabad center $19 million, settling claims that officials unlawfully blocked the construction of a synagogue on its rabbi’s property.
Rabbi Aaron Konikov and Lubavitch of Old Westbury sued the Village of Old Westbury in 2008, after the village passed a law in 2001 governing places of worship as Konikov sought to build a synagogue on his property.
Local officials enacted the law two years after Konikov planned a ceremony to announce a new building on the land where he already operates a synagogue. They decreed that houses of worship could be built only on plots of 12 acres or more. Konikov owns a 9-acre plot.
In October, U.S. District Judge Gary Brown ruled that the 2001 ordinance “unconstitutionally discriminates against the free exercise of religion and is therefore facially invalid.”
Old Westbury agreed to pay the plaintiffs in the suit $19 million as part of a consent decree, which was signed by Brown on March 18, Newsday reported this week.
“This consent decree may not be modified, changed or amended except in writing signed by each of the parties approved by the court,” Brown wrote. “Each party participated fully in the negotiation and drafting of the terms of this decree, and any ambiguity shall not be construed against any party.”
Kornikov did not respond to requests for comment on Monday. But he may soon be switching into construction mode for his long hoped-for synagogue, for which preliminary plans show a 20,875-square-foot building and an adjacent parking lot.
The $19 million payment will be made by the village’s insurance providers, and Lubavitch of Old Westbury has until Jan. 15, 2027, to apply for a special-use permit from the village to build a synagogue, according to Newsday.
The ruling marks a notable victory for emissaries of the Chabad-Lubavitch movement, who have often been met with legal challenges when establishing centers. Last July, the Village of Atlantic Beach in New York agreed to pay Chabad of the Beaches $950,000 to settle a legal battle over the construction of a new community center.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post Long Island town ordered to pay $19M after blocking Chabad synagogue construction appeared first on The Forward.
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Iran claims synagogue in Tehran was ‘completely destroyed’ by US-Israeli strike
(JTA) — Iranian state media claimed on Tuesday that a synagogue in Tehran was “completely destroyed” by a U.S.-Israeli strike.
The claim was impossible to verify. Footage of the alleged attack on the Rafi-Niya Synagogue posted online showed open Hebrew prayer books scattered among the rubble of a building.
The synagogue was damaged when a nearby residential building in Tehran was attacked, according to Iranian news agencies. The Rafi-Niya Synagogue is located near Palestine Square, an epicenter of the Iranian regime’s anti-Israel propaganda.
The United States and Israel have been bombing sites in Tehran for more than a month since launching a war on the Islamic Republic regime. Israel emphasized that it does not target religious sites.
Homayoun Sameyah Najafabadi, the only Jewish representative in Iran’s parliament, condemned the attack in a video published by Iran’s official IRIB News outlet.
“The Zionist regime showed no mercy towards this community during the Jewish holidays and attacked one of our ancient and holy synagogues,” Najafabadi said. “Unfortunately, during this attack, the synagogue building was completely destroyed, and Torah scrolls remain under the rubble.”
About 8,000 Jews live in Iran and worship in dozens of synagogues. The war has exacerbated their delicate position, as they are technically granted freedom of religion but face peril if they demonstrate any connection to Israel or dissent against their government. Hundreds of Iranian Jews who have applied for refugee status because of religious persecution are trapped in the country after the United States halted refugee admissions.
The alleged attack comes one day after the Israeli Ministry of Foreign Affairs posted footage of an undetonated missile on a street, writing that an “Iranian regime missile struck next to a mosque in Israel.”
“A regime that targets civilians and sacred spaces of all religions has no red lines,” the ministry wrote in a post on X. “Nothing is off limits for them.”
On Tuesday, the Israeli prime minister’s office issued a statement about the alleged damage to the Rafi-Niya synagogue. “Iran is firing missiles at civilians, Israel is striking terror infrastructure,” it said. “Missiles on civilians versus precision strikes on terror targets. That’s the difference.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post Iran claims synagogue in Tehran was ‘completely destroyed’ by US-Israeli strike appeared first on The Forward.