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Michael Shafir, who played a key role in Holocaust memory in his native Romania, dies at 78
BUCHAREST (JTA) — When Michael Shafir moved to Israel from his native Romania as a teenager in the 1960s, it wasn’t because the Jewish teen was burning with Zionist fervor. Instead, it was the first country that agreed to take him.
“I would have left for wherever there was no communism, because I could no longer live with the feeling that you say one thing outside the house and another at home,” Shafir once said in an interview with Romanian media.
More than four decades later, Shafir would return to the country where he was born, as a professor of international relations. From his post at Babes-Bolyai University, in northwestern Romania, Shafir studied and published extensively on how post-communist right-wing nationalists distorted the past and trivialized or denied the Holocaust in Eastern Europe.
Shafir, who died Nov. 9 at 78, was known in his work and in his personal life for his straightforward and often humorous presentation of difficult truths.
“He was among the first to see the early emergence of nationalism in the [Romanian] communist regime’s politics,” his friend and colleague Liviu Rotman, an Israeli historian of Romanian Jewry, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
Rotman said Shafir’s 2004 book “Between denial and trivialization. Holocaust denial in post-communist countries in Central and Eastern Europe” represented a “real encyclopedia” of Holocaust denial, as it outlined three forms that Shafir observed in post-communist states — outright, deflective (which “minimizes own-nation participation”) and selective (a combination of the other two). Shafir also took aim at what he called “comparative trivialization” of the Holocaust, or denying its uniqueness by equating it with communist crimes.
“I used to joke with Michael and told him that he produced a Mendeleev Table of Holocaust denial,” Rotman wrote on Facebook after his friend’s death, referring to the formal name for the periodic table that organizes elements according to their characteristics.
Known in Romania for his irreverent sense of humor and his chain smoking, Shafir’s massive figure wearing a trench coat — and occasionally a hat — could often be seen in the threshold of the conferences and events he attended.
“He was a person with an exceptional sense of humor, who always sent his friends jokes, who always found things to laugh about,” Jewish studies scholar Felicia Waldman told JTA.
“He liked to share everything he discovered, everything he thought,” added Waldman, who also recalled Shafir’s “undiplomatic” vehemence. “Sometimes that created problems for him.”
Shafir promoted his ideas in books and scholarly writing and conferences, but also in the Romanian press, where he proved to be a redoubtable polemicist. As a member of the International Commission for the Holocaust in Romania, he worked to make sure that people in his country understood the truth about the Holocaust and Romanian authorities’ collaboration with the Nazi regime. That history was obscured during the communist era and contested after it.
The commission was established by Romanian president Ion Iliescu in 2003 and headed by Romanian-born Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel. Shafir and his fellow commission members concluded that between 280,000 and 380,000 Jews were murdered in territories under Romanian control during World War II.
In 2004, their report was officially adopted by the Romanian state, which for the first time acknowledged its participation in the destruction of the European Jews.
“Today’s negationism can no longer have the excuse ‘I’ve not read, I’ve haven’t access to information,’” Shafir said in a podcast by the Wiesel Institute in 2021, in which he warns about the crafty and convoluted nature of most contemporary Holocaust denial.
Shafir was still working with the Elie Wiesel National Institute for the Study of the Holocaust in Romania at the time of his death, which the institute and his family members confirmed.
Born in Bucharest in 1944, Shafir managed to move to Israel as a teenager in 1961, during one of the periods when Romania relaxed emigration rules for its Jews. He had run afoul of the Communist regime and sought to escape it.
In Israel, Shafir served in the army before moving to Munich, to work as a researcher on audiences at Radio Free Europe, the U.S.-funded radio station for communist Europe. From then on he balanced journalism with academic work: He then returned to Israel, earning a bachelor’s degree in political science and English literature at Hebrew University while directing foreign news at the Kol Israel radio station, a position he held until 1982. He had just earned a political science PhD at Hebrew University after writing a thesis on the Romanian intelligentsia under communist dictator Nicolae Ceausescu.
Shafir rejoined Radio Free Europe in the mid 1980s and held positions there until well after the fall of the Iron Curtain. His return to Romania and reclamation of his Romanian citizenship in 2005 inspired the country’s progressive left.
“Shafir meant a lot to me; he’s been a reference for his honesty and intellectual courage, and someone capable, like not many others, to review his positions when new data or historical sources asked for it,” Romanian-American software engineer-turned-historian Andrei Ursu told JTA.
Ursu was recently appointed scientific director of the Institute of the Romanian 1989 Revolution, an organization whose mission is to study that year’s Romanian anticommunist revolution. Two of his great-grandparents and a grandfather were killed during the Holocaust.
Ursu — whose father Gheorghe died after being savagely beaten while in politically motivated detention by Romania’s Communist secret police, the infamous Securitate — has been fighting for decades to combat the whitewashing of the Securitate in the country’s public discourse.
He described Shafir as “a person with an endless humor” and “without the exaggerated vanity common to many Romanian intellectuals.” Despite his frail health, Ursu said, Shafir agreed to review part of Ursu’s latest editorial project on the 1989 Romanian anti-communist revolution, “The Fall of a Dictator.”
Like other specialists who collaborated with Shafir, Ursu praised his work ethics and the precision of his sourcing and investigative work.
His media comments and public appearances were frequently peppered with jokes and anecdotes. In 2019, while speaking in an interview about the tens of thousands of Jews whom Ceausescu let emigrate in exchange for cash payments from Israel, Shafir told an old Romanian joke that starts with the Romanian dictator visiting a cooperative producing corn.
“How much do you get for a ton of maize?” Ceausescu asked the apparatchik in charge of the cooperative. “Just that? I get more if I sell 10 Jews.” To which the apparatchik retorts: “Then it’d be good if we start sowing Jews.”
In the interview, Shafir also recalled that the Jewish community headquarters in Bucharest used to display a sign warning gentiles desperate to get a visa to Israel and escape communism that “no conversions are accepted.”
“In the end, a conversion is much less dangerous than crossing the Danube swimming,” Shafir observed.
Although Shafir left Israel, he remained close to his family there and invested in the country’s politics. An activist with Peace Now who defined himself as a “critical Zionist,” Shafir rejected characterizations of Israel as an apartheid state but saw the Israeli continued military presence in the Palestinian territories as incompatible with democracy in the long term.
“He was very much worried about our future here in a country that is drifting to the right,” his daughter, Maurit Beeri, wrote on Facebook after her father’s death. She said he had recently spent time in Israel with his family, including his grandchildren.
Shafir’s body lay in state Nov. 13 at one of his university’s buildings in Cluj, Romania, where he lived with his wife, Aneta Feldman-Shafir.
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I Came to Israel for Clarity and Left with More Questions (How Jewish)
The Western Wall and Temple Mount in Jerusalem. Photo: Wikimedia Commons.
I arrived in Israel as part of the Birthright Israel Onward Storytellers Program, with a dynamic group of creators from across the globe intent on gaining perspective on the region.
Many people in my group were short-form enthusiasts, but I repeatedly insisted on the power of long-form storytelling. So here are some long-form thoughts on my experience:
While Israelis wear their resilience on their sleeves, I was struck by the psychological weight they’ve gained since Oct 7.
When I learned that the word grief in Hebrew was “evel,” I asked if it was linked to the word “even,” which means rock. A native speaker was surprised by this question, but couldn’t refute the connection.
Coincidences in the Holy Land often feel like Divine signs. Maybe they are.
On our first day, while walking through the Old City in Jerusalem, I lost the Hamsa pendant I bought on my last visit; it slipped right off my neck.
My first sign!
That pendant was now burrowed in the pocket of cobblestone streets older than the prophets. What literal symbol would I replace it with?
After a tear-soaked visit to the Kotel, where I jammed a wish-filled note in the cracks of the ancient wall, we visited the Temple Mount, a jarring surprise to our group to even be allowed in.
At one of the holiest places in Jewish and Muslim culture, I was not moved by the archeological marvel, but by the human connection — in the thoughtful dialogue I began with our Palestinian tour guide, in an effort to understand his experience.
It was not lost on me that we were a living bridge of peace, in the most contentious location between our cultures. I doubt it was lost on him either.
We hugged goodbye later that day, and wished each other well, speaking to the individual but praying for our collectives.
The next day we visited the harrowing sites of the Oct. 7 massacres at the Nova festival and Kibbutz Nir Oz. I was surprised at how unsurprised I was, scarred by the gutting imagery that the attack had become sadly associated with.
We then went to the great expanse of the Negev Desert, with its Grand Canyon-like Godliness. We spoke to our creator in the darkness of the night, looking for more answers — but, again, I was left with more questions.
The signs were unclear and I was getting frustrated.
We then came to Tel Aviv, a city that always feels just right with its bustling multi-culturalism, charming architecture, undeniable food, and endless gorgeous faces.
I could live here, I thought. With the state of the world, maybe sooner rather than later.
I thrived on my own, with long walks away from the group, sipping delicious coffee and reaffirming why I love this country so much. The solitude energized my urge to make the world understand what Israel really is. How they would see if they only came here for themselves!
But we cannot make people see what they don’t want to see. We can only lead by example and hope that our changes inspire them, or at the very least, confront them.
Our meaningful journey, carefully curated by Yael Adventures, was coming to an end.
I left this chapter of my trip inspired by a group of young leaders expressing their values online to move hearts and minds through food, fashion, humor, and culture.
The odds are against us.
As I told them, my family is Israeli, so I have no choice but to be an outspoken advocate. The others have a harder choice, one that their peers reject violently and without nuance. And yet they choose to stand with Jewish pride in the land we are told we don’t deserve, but relentlessly reminded why we need.
I am grateful to this group for teaching me so much about their stories and about my own. Among them, I even made some true friends, a task that gets increasingly harder in a world saturated with false idols and inauthentic lives.
After the organized trip, I visited my family in the North, the only extended family I have. As we sat down for Shabbat dinner, I felt the feeling of home that people often describe when their tribe is together. When you live across the world from yours, a puzzle piece of your soul reattaches for even the shortest reconnection.
The next day, on a walk with my cousin, I ran into a childhood friend. I had met him on my family’s sabbatical in Israel when I was 12 years old. He no longer lived in the village, but happened to be visiting the same day as me, walking the same trail at the same time.
Another sign.
I had lived there at an age where life events are consequential to our personalities and trajectory. It reminded me of the confidence this place instilled in me, which has carried me throughout my life. If nothing else, I owe it to these people for the confidence they gave me — to remind them of how special they truly are, regardless of what the rest of the world thinks. To lighten the load of the “even” from the “evel.”
I visited my Father’s grave, a beautiful stone structure built for only the most epic of men. He rests exactly where he belongs, overlooking the land of his forefathers, beside his fellow countrymen.
His tombstone is labeled “Professor.” I questioned what identity I would want written on my own. I didn’t have an answer.
As a multi-hyphenate, I don’t do well with labels, or perhaps have yet to land on my own personal definition.
The trip ended with a cherished day of filming for my upcoming movie, continuing the long journey to tell a story I can’t wait to share with you all. It turns out that it doesn’t matter where I am in the world — if I’m making art on my own terms, I come alive.
This sign couldn’t be clearer.
It would be borderline blasphemous to not acknowledge the Divinity of using my God-given gifts in my ancestral homeland.
Perhaps I was right to be in this cohort after all. A true “hero’s journey,” I came back home changed, and armed with fresh perspective and new tools to do what I do best — tell stories. I guess I don’t need a new pendant for that.
No matter your background, I hope you’ll visit Israel and see it for yourself someday. It may not have all your answers, but, like me, it may leave you with new questions to explore.
And if you don’t, that’s OK too. I’ll be back again very soon, and eat enough Shawarma for the both of us.
Ari Frenkel is an actor, writer and filmmaker. He is known for his on-screen work in Amazon’s I’m A Virgo, HBO’s Silicon Valley, FX’s American Crime Story, and much more. He is the creator and star of the award-winning digital series Sorry, Ari. He is currently in production for his debut feature film, See You on the Other Side. Visit his Instagram, and website.
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Phase Two Begins: Will Hamas Uphold Its Ceasefire Commitments?
People walk past a billboard portraying the late Hamas leader Yahya Sinwar at the site of a rally held by protesters, mainly Houthi supporters, to show support to Lebanon’s Hezbollah and Palestinians in the Gaza Strip, in Sanaa, Yemen, Oct. 18, 2024. Photo: REUTERS/Khaled Abdullah
The United States has announced that the second phase of the ceasefire agreement between Israel and Hamas has now begun. While officials worry that not moving on to the second stage could encourage renewed fighting, the movement towards the second phase has also been met with trepidation from the Israeli perspective.
Notably, Hamas has yet to uphold its end of the agreement, consistently violating the ceasefire since its implementation by launching attacks on Israeli soldiers, crossing the yellow line into territory controlled by the IDF, and not returning all hostages within the first 72 hours of the agreement.
While all hostages, both living and deceased, were meant to return home 72 hours after the initial agreement was signed, Hamas has consistently delayed releases or indulged in misdirection and cover-ups. As phase two begins, the body of Ran Gvili, the final hostage being unlawfully held in Gaza, has yet to return home. It raises serious doubts about the extent to which the terrorist organization can be trusted to honor its commitments.
What Does Phase Two Entail?
The second phase of the ceasefire is meant to establish a transitional technocratic Palestinian administration in Gaza, known as the National Committee for the Administration of Gaza (NCAG). It will also begin the full demilitarization and reconstruction of Gaza, focusing specifically on the disarmament of all unauthorized personnel, such as Hamas and Islamic Jihad.
While Hamas is now supposedly signaling willingness to disarm, it has in the past made it explicitly clear that it is not interested in disarming until there is a clear process that will result in the establishment of a Palestinian state, least of all if Israel is still present in the Gaza Strip. Yet this requirement for disarmament must be met at this stage for Israel to continue its withdrawal.
Since the beginning of phase one, the IDF has been working tirelessly on the demilitarization of Gaza. Yet areas beyond the yellow line — the area of withdrawal controlled by the IDF — remain far from clear of terrorist infrastructure, as the IDF continues to uncover more tunnel systems.
All of these key components of the second phase need to work in synchronization. Hamas’ military grip on the Gaza Strip currently puts the terrorist organization in a position of de facto governance. If it relinquishes its military powers by disarming, it will create the possibility for the NCAG force to begin administering the civilians there.
The NCAG is meant to be an apolitical body overseeing daily life in Gaza. In this capacity, it could help support stabilization efforts, reduce the influence of terrorist organizations, and create space for long-term initiatives focused on education, reconstruction, and economic opportunity — key elements in fostering a more sustainable future. Additionally, the International Stabilization Force (ISF) will also be implemented at this stage to help establish and support a police force, allowing for further Israeli withdrawal.
The successful implementation of the second phase lays the groundwork for a stable and functional civilian administration in Gaza. Thus, this phase is not only about immediate security and withdrawal, but rather about building the institutional foundations necessary to ensure a stable future in post-war Gaza.
A Reminder From Oslo
This is not the first time Israel has entered into agreements with the Palestinians, only to face challenges stemming from a lack of enforcement, limited accountability, and differing interests.
In 1993, Israelis and Palestinians were similarly excited about the process of moving towards a future free of terrorism, incitement, and hatred.
The Oslo Accords called for the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) to formally recognize the right of the State of Israel to exist. In contrast, Israel recognized the PLO as the representative of the Palestinian people. Over the course of five years, the two parties were meant to reach a formal and comprehensive agreement. However, no such agreement was ever reached between the parties, and the breakdown of the process was followed by the launch of the Second Intifada, during which weapons originally intended for Palestinian security forces were turned against Israel.
Perhaps one of the most important requirements from the Palestinian side of the Oslo Accords was a commitment to education reform, intended to promote tolerance within the Palestinian education system. A lack of enforcement meant that this crucial factor was never implemented.
As a result, the Palestinian education system has — to this day — been one that indoctrinates Palestinian children with a vehement hatred of the State of Israel and the Jewish people, and calls on children to become martyrs by committing terrorist attacks. This means that the terrorists who committed the atrocities of October 7, 2023, grew up using textbooks that glorified terrorism after the fallout from Oslo.
While the world and the media may be ready to move on to phase two, it is crucial that Israel ensures the other side are held to their obligations. The aftermath of the Oslo Accords illustrates the consequences of failing to uphold commitments. The repeated disregard of terrorist organizations’ negotiated commitments ultimately undermined long-term stability. The current phase in Gaza presents a similar crossroads. Without careful oversight and accountability, a history of broken commitments and renewed violence could repeat itself.
The author is a contributor to HonestReporting, a Jerusalem-based media watchdog with a focus on antisemitism and anti-Israel bias — where a version of this article first appeared.
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What Happens Next for the US and Iran?
Iran’s Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei speaks during a meeting in Tehran, Iran, January 17, 2026. Office of the Iranian Supreme Leader/WANA (West Asia News Agency)/Handout via REUTERS
Having warned Iran’s regime, repeatedly and explicitly, not to brutalize its own people, President Trump now must figure out how to uphold his red line, avoid losing credibility, and impose serious costs on the regime — all without triggering a wider conflict.
Revolutionary regimes like the Islamic Republic try to delegitimize and deflect popular discontent by pinning it on external enemies. Although Trump has spoken out about the protests, Tehran ignored the Biden team’s glaring silence and still blamed America for the “Woman, Life, Freedom” movement just a few years ago.
It is therefore no surprise that the speaker of Iran’s parliament has said the country is already in a new round of conflict with America and Israel. Iranian officials also have threatened to attack US regional bases, including preemptively.
Even if the country’s recent nationwide protests have subsided for now, Iran’s regime is fundamentally both unable and unwilling to address the deep-rooted grievances underlying such widespread and steadily worsening internal discontent.
It is strictly a question of when — not if — major unrest returns, and with it, the regime’s enduring instinct and temptation to project its problems outward onto the “Big” and “Little” Satans of America and Israel. Brinkmanship also offers the regime hope of deterring military action during the moments of domestic crisis when its future is most in doubt.
There are plenty of salutary sanctions, cyberwarfare tools, and covert and kinetic options to support protestors, inhibit further crackdowns, and encourage the regime’s ultimate collapse.
By themselves, however, these options are unable to keep Iran from threatening or unleashing massive retaliation against US targets in the process.
A key element of President Trump’s response, and one that fulfills his promise of “hitting them very, very hard where it hurts,” should be to target the regime’s best retaliatory capabilities.
This means its short-range ballistic and cruise missiles, drones, missile boat swarms, anti-ship missiles, and mobile coastal batteries looming over the Gulf, Iraq, and American forces there. By combining mass with precision, the weapons are Iran’s readiest option to counter US threats against its internal security apparatus.
These capabilities were left untouched during the June war, when the United States and Israel focused on nuclear sites and longer-range ballistic missiles. They do not require the time-consuming loading and fueling of those longer-range missiles, and their flight times are shorter.
These short-range projectiles can be launched in large “bolt from the blue” attacks with little early warning, and in great quantities, that strain US-led defenses in the region. Unlike some of its other arsenals, Iran has dangerous incentives to strike first, fast, and hard with these weapons.
Moreover, this Iran weapons program would have an attractive array of high-value targets. American forces cluster in a small handful of bases and warships in the Gulf, adjacent to major energy terminals and the world’s most important energy shipping point in the narrow Strait of Hormuz. These sites do not have anything remotely like Israel’s air and missile shield, a concern reflected in recent comments from senior US military officials about needing time to prepare regional defenses.
Iran’s past attacks with these weapons reliably hit their aimpoints. Most memorably, Iran launched a surprise cruise missile and drone swarm against Saudi energy facilities in 2019, and a ballistic missile barrage against US forces in Iraq several months later.
Even though it chose to telegraph its missile strike on Al-Udeid airbase in Qatar last year, American troops had to evacuate in advance, given their lack of adequate defenses. Both during and since the June conflict, Iran has prepared attacks and conducted military exercises to target US forces and energy shipping around Hormuz.
Iran also knows from past practice that threatening such attacks can generate pressure on America from its Gulf partners, all of whom want to deescalate tensions that could otherwise shoot oil prices upward and jeopardize their ambitious, but vulnerable, economic development projects.
Iran’s regime should know its short-range weapons are central to the strike options being readied for President Trump’s consideration. America’s commander-in-chief should make painfully and explicitly clear that Tehran cannot escalate its way out of its predicament — at home or abroad.
Jonathan Ruhe is the Fellow for American Strategy at the Jewish Institute for National Security of America.