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My father was in the Hungarian resistance. Orbán’s defeat reminds us why it mattered
My father resisted the Nazis in Hungary. I thought of him — and how he would have rejoiced — when the Hungarian people voted out Prime Minister Viktor Orbán on Sunday, after 16 years of authoritarian rule.
Only a week before Hungarian voters made their choice, the outcome of the elections seemed far from certain. I remember watching in dismay last Tuesday, when Vice President JD Vance flew to Budapest to try to help prop Orbán up. There, he spread the same kind of blood-and-soil nationalism that has haunted the history of Hungary, and helped enable the horrors through which my father lived.
In his campaign rally with Orbán, Vance decried “far-left ideology” as “a shared threat from within that both of our nations face,” adding that its followers “view the very foundations of our shared civilization as illegitimate.” He also said that Orbán had kept Hungary from being “invaded” by immigrants.
The second-highest elected official in the United States, the country that gave so many Jews refuge after the Holocaust, embraced an ethno-nationalist leader who has suggested that Hungary’s “enemy” is a group who “does not believe in working but speculates with money; does not have its own homeland but feels it owns the whole world.”
What would my dad have made of that blatantly antisemitic moment?
In 1943 and 1944, my father operated underground in Budapest and Bucharest. As part of an illegal religious Zionist youth movement, he helped organize rescue efforts for Jews under Nazi rule. He traveled to Hungarian villages, warning Jews of advancing German forces, and helped smuggle Jews from Hungary to Romania and onward to Mandatory Palestine.
My father lived in a time when ideas and rhetoric like those advanced by Orbán and Vance had existential consequences. He resisted a regime that hunted Jews and other minorities, stripped them of rights, and sent them to their deaths. For him, resistance meant survival.
My father risked everything — his safety, his freedom, his life. With Hungary’s model in front of us, all who live under the threat of authoritarianism today must ask: What will we risk?
While our reality is different from my father’s, we are nevertheless on a dangerous path — one we ignore at our peril. Across the globe, antisemitism is on the rise. Democracy, which has safeguarded vulnerable communities from fascism, is under assault.
Hungarians pushed back against rising authoritarianism on Sunday, ousting Orbán in a true feat of resistance. In doing so, they dealt a blow to the network of European far-right leaders who trade in antisemitic tropes and beliefs. And they rebuffed Vance and President Donald Trump — who dispatched Vance to campaign in Hungary, having closely allied himself with Orbán — and an increasingly influential circle of American intellectuals who promote antisemitism-tinged arguments about civilizational decline and hidden elite influence.
How should we respond to this normalization of antisemitic language and imagery?
My father’s story taught me not to take the easy route. It’s tempting to retreat, at least temporarily, into private life, focusing only on our families and communities. We may want to minimize what we see, to convince ourselves it isn’t as bad as it seems. We may grow insular or fatalistic.
But disengagement will only postpone the danger to a later date, leaving us exposed and unprepared. It is the opposite of resistance. My father understood this, and bet on the power of resistance and perseverance.
Real resistance — to authoritarianism, to antisemitism, to the forces that feed both — means using the tools of democracy that are still available to us: voting, organizing, and speaking out to hold leaders accountable. It means using our power as citizens to stand behind our values — just as the citizens of Hungary did yesterday.
Real resistance means rejecting dangerous ideas carried by far-right movements into positions of power, amplified by the highest offices in the land. Those same movements are simultaneously assaulting the very democratic institutions that have made America one of the safest places Jews have ever lived.
Real resistance means standing up when democratic norms are eroded; when Jews and other minority communities are cast as threats; and when governmental institutions employ rhetoric with unmistakable antisemitic resonance — all phenomena that unfolded in Hungary under Orbán, and are unfolding in the U.S. under Trump. It means standing in the way of unchecked power and opposing legislation and policies that limit constitutional liberties and academic freedom. It means strengthening the ties that bind us together — building alliances against all forms of hatred, between communities targeted for their religion, ethnicity, identity or beliefs. It means staying in coalition to fight for a strong democratic future, even when doing so can be uncomfortable.
Orbán, Trump, Vance and their fellow proto-authoritarians have bet that we will ultimately comply. With Orbán’s defeat, they have new reasons to fear that we won’t. That’s as it should be, and my father would be proud.
My father had every chance to escape the Nazis. But after each mission, he came back to rescue more. He never stopped fighting for a better future for his fellow Jews. Neither should we.
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Minnesota’s Democratic nominee is an Israel critic – but she is not El-Sayed 2.0
(JTA) — Peggy Flanagan, the likely next senator from Minnesota, defeated a moderate pro-Israel congresswoman, accuses Israel of genocide and says she would oppose offensive weapons sales to Israel.
If the victory Tuesday of the state’s lieutenant governor over Rep. Angie Craig sounds like an echo of last week’s election in another midwestern state, Michigan, listen a little closer: Flanagan differs from Abdul El-Sayed in critical if subtle ways when it comes to Israel and Jews.
Flanagan has not joined El-Sayed and a number of left-wing challengers for Congress in saying that she would oppose U.S. funding for defensive weapons like the Iron Dome missile program.
Her platform says she would have joined the two incumbent Minnesota senators, Amy Klobuchar – who is running for governor, and whom she hopes to replace – and Tina Smith “in voting to halt offensive weapons sales to Israel.” That places her within the current Democratic mainstream: 40 out of 47 senators who caucus with the Democrats voted in April for the bill banning offensive weapons when it came up.
Her platform also calls for “a two-state solution which allows for a secure Israel and Palestinian self-determination.” El-Sayed will not commit to recognizing Israel’s existence as a Jewish state, or to a two-state solution.
The crisis moment in El-Sayed’s relationship with his state’s Jewish community came when he appeared to equivocate in condemning a violent attack on a Detroit area synagogue in March when pre-school was in session.
Flanagan was unequivocal: “Our Jewish communities are facing unprecedented levels of violence and threats,” she wrote then on social media. “It is on all of us to call anti-semitism out when we see and hear it, and to make sure that all of our faith communities are treated with respect. Hate brings no one more safety, more dignity, or more peace.”
She is equally as adamant when the threat is closer to home. In 2025, on the anniversary of the Oct. 7, 2023 attack, a different synagogue called Temple Israel in Minneapolis was vandalized with graffiti in the shape of two inverted triangles — a symbol associated with Hamas — and reading “Al-Aqsa Flood,” Hamas’ name for its attack on Israel.
“Last night, Temple Israel in Minneapolis was defaced with anti-Semitic hate,” Flanagan wrote. “My heart is with the congregants of Temple Israel and our entire Jewish community. Hate has no home in Minnesota, and every house of worship should be a safe place to pray.”
There are things that Flanagan has done and said that nonetheless unsettled the pro-Israel community.
Some Jewish Democrats voiced concern to the Minnesota Star Tribune that Flanagan played into antisemitic tropes by singling out the American Israel Public Affairs Committee in her campaign against Craig – a page out of El-Sayed’s playbook in defeating AIPAC-backed Rep. Haley Stevens, and the playbook of a number of progressive congressional candidates this year. During the lead-up to the primary, Flanagan was vocal about her opponent Craig’s support from the pro-Israel lobby, calling her “AIPAC’s candidate.”
A Flanagan spokesperson told the paper that she has “consistently condemned antisemitism and will continue standing with Jewish Minnesotans against hate.” Flanagan’s campaign did not return a request for comment.
Flanagan had the support of Israel-critical progressives, including Sen. Bernie Sanders, the Vermont senator who authored the proposed ban on the sale of offensive weapons, and Rep. Ilhan Omar of Minnesota. Like them – and unlike Smith and Klobuchar – she has accused Israel of genocide.
She also drew the endorsement of progressive Jewish organization Bend the Arc.
“She is a close friend of the Twin Cities Jewish community and a trusted ally in the fight against antisemitism,” wrote Bend the Arc’s CEO, Jamie Beran. “She understands that Jewish safety is bound up with the safety and freedom of all our neighbors.”
Now, Flanagan will take on Republican nominee Michele Tafoya, a former NFL sideline reporter who has expressed support for Israel and its war with the U.S. in Iran. Minnesota has not elected a Republican U.S. Senator since 2002. Flanagan is favored to win in a state which has trended increasingly blue in recent years.
Flanagan also says she will not support New York’s Chuck Schumer if he chooses to seek another term as party leader in the Senate. Schumer is a pro-Israel stalwart.
Republicans, who control the Senate, have unanimously voted against Sanders’ resolutions, rendering them essentially symbolic tools for Democrats to voice disapproval of the Israeli government. If progressive Israel critics like El-Sayed and Troy Jackson in Maine win in November and help flip the Senate — and especially if Schumer gives up leadership — the pathway to blocking weapons sales to Israel would become clearer than ever.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
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‘History cannot be erased’: ‘Hostages Square’ in Tel Aviv is formalized in official name change
(JTA) — The plaza that became the center of Israel’s campaign to bring home the 251 captives Hamas seized on Oct.7, 2023 is now formally called “Hostages Square,” establishing a permanent reminder of the more than two-year struggle that ended with the return of the final hostage in January.
Mayor Ron Huldai unveiled new signage at the plaza outside the Tel Aviv Museum of Art on Wednesday, formally adopting the name Israelis had used for the site for close to three years.
Hostage families and their supporters gathered at the square for mass rallies, weekly Shabbat gatherings, vigils and public events demanding the release of those held in Gaza. The plaza was also filled with crowds celebrating as hostages returned home.
“History cannot be erased, and we must not allow it to be forgotten,” Huldai said at the unveiling. “The decision to name this place ‘Hostages Square’ is intended to ensure that this chapter in the history of the State of Israel, from October 7, 2023 until the return of the final hostage, Ran Gvili, on January 26, 2026, will be remembered for generations.”
The formal designation settles a debate over whether or not the site’s role in one of the more significant events in Israel history should be remembered or erased.
After a deal was announced in October 2025 to free the remaining living hostages, Dani Miran, whose son Omri spent 738 days in Hamas captivity, personally urged Huldai to rename the plaza “Returnees Square.” Other proposals included “Heroes Square” and names emphasizing unity, while relatives of hostages whose bodies were still being held in Gaza argued that the existing name should remain until everyone was returned.
The last hostage, police officer Ran Gvili, was returned to Israel on Jan. 26 after his remains were recovered in Gaza. The following day, the clock in Hostages Square that had counted the time since Oct. 7 was stopped after 844 days.
The site still carries a political charge: In July, protesters met at the square to call for an official inquiry into the lapses that facilitated the Oct. 7 attacks, something Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has fiercely resisted. The alleged failures of the day have become an issue ahead of Oct. 27 elections.
Rebecca Geller, who handled international communications for the Hostages and Missing Families Forum and spent much of the war alongside hostage families at the square, said she was glad the name was being formally preserved.
“Whatever the space will be in the future, it will be important to honour” what it meant during the war, she said. “It gave the families a place to come to feel the support of the community, to get out of the house and to be nourished through the worst times of their lives, body and soul.”
By July, Tel Aviv’s municipal naming committee had backed Huldai’s proposal to make “Hostages Square” the plaza’s official name, saying it had become a national symbol of solidarity and the campaign to return the captives. Until then, the site was officially known as the plaza outside the Tel Aviv Museum of Art despite “Hostages Square” becoming its universally recognized name.
“This was the site of a courageous and determined struggle led by families who did everything they could to bring their loved ones home,” Huldai said. “Tel Aviv-Yafo had the privilege of being their home, and together with residents of the city and people from across Israel, this square became a center of solidarity, mutual responsibility and an unwavering demand: bring them all home.”
“This square will remain a testament to the families, to their struggle and to the commitment never to give up on anyone. We will not allow this story to be forgotten.”
The square may now be permanent, but Google has yet to get the memo: as of Thursday, its Maps listing marked Hostages Square as “permanently closed.”
Geller said the square remains a difficult place to visit.
“I struggle to return there – even when I’m just going to the art museum – because it always brings up the emotion that was held there,” she said. “For me, it will always be Hostages Square.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post ‘History cannot be erased’: ‘Hostages Square’ in Tel Aviv is formalized in official name change appeared first on The Forward.
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War and uncertainty drives Israelis seeking quiet abroad
(JTA) — When Iris Meiri-Snir moved from Israel to northern Italy last month, she gave up a job she loved, proximity to her children and grandchildren, and the social and professional ties she had built over a lifetime.
She and her husband, Hagai Agmon-Snir, left for their home in Mevaseret Zion, an explicitly ideological choice that places them among a growing number of Israelis building their lives elsewhere.
Meiri-Snir was vice principal at a leading Jerusalem high school, while Agmon-Snir, a neuroscientist, spent decades working on coexistence initiatives involving Palestinians, Haredim, LGBTQ Israelis and other communities. As the country pushed right-ward, they found themselves increasingly on the fringe.
“Leaving is our way of expressing our opposition,” he said, adding that he would encourage others who felt the same way to do likewise.
For years, the couple belonged to the optimistic camp that believed Israeli society could still return to the liberal values they upheld. By the time they decided to move to Arona, a town on Lake Maggiore in northern Italy, that conviction had disappeared. Despite their comfortable lives in Israel, they no longer felt they could justify staying.
They have been public about their journey out of their homeland, speaking with JTA and Israel’s Channel 11. “If I ignore all the political and social crap happening around me, what do I have to complain about here?” he told the Kan public broadcaster in an interview filmed before the couple left Israel. “We’ve got it pretty good.”
“But it’s no longer possible to be part of what’s happening here,” he added, arguing that a “fascist current” in Israel had moved into the mainstream.
The Snirs are not alone. A Tel Aviv University study showed that Israeli immigration has remained at record levels, with an estimated 40,000 and 50,000 citizens exiting for at least a year in each of the past three years, a record run of emigration that began amid the political upheaval of 2023. Itcontinued through the wars that followed the Oct. 7 Hamas-led attack that year.
The authors of the study said the current numbers do not yet pose a significant economic or security risk, but warned that could change if emigration continues to rise. They pointed to what they called a “dangerous” increase in the so-called brain drain, or the departure of highly educated, high-earning Israelis. A separate Israel Tax Authority study found that emigrants’ incomes before leaving were about 50% higher than the national average, with doctors and engineers disproportionately represented.
The movement, however, is not all in one direction. More than 22,500 new immigrants arrived in Israel in 2025, including about 8,500 from Western countries such as the United States, France, Britain and Canada. Overall aliyah fell by about a third, largely because of a steep decline in arrivals from Russia, but immigration from several Western countries rose: French aliyah more than tripled between 2023 and 2025, while North American immigration also increased.
For some of those newcomers, the same wars and upheaval that have helped drive Israelis abroad have instead strengthened their desire to live in Israel, where they seek solidarity with a people under siege. More than 2,300 North American Jews were planning to move to Israel this summer, about 15% more than in recent years, according to Nefesh B’Nefesh, which facilitates aliyah.
Across social media, dozens of groups cater to Israelis considering emigration, a move known as yerida — the inverse of aliyah — though native-born Israelis more commonly use the English loanword “relocation.” In one English-speaking Facebook group, members cited security fears, repeated wars, financial instability, the high cost of living and dissatisfaction with the education system.
For new arrivals to Israel some of the pressures are particular to life as an immigrant. People in the group described struggling with the language, the absence of family nearby and, particularly among Europeans, frustration with a welfare system they felt offered far less help than their native countries during illness, unemployment or other crises.
One woman posting said she had become disillusioned with the aliyah dream she felt had been sold to her by the Zionist Federation, but later softened that criticism, telling JTA in a private message that the organization had done “so much good” for her family and that she had written the post while angry about the war.
Ishai, originally from San Francisco and now exploring a move to Prague, said the cost of living and “endless and pointless wars” were part of why he wanted to leave. His disillusionment with Israel’s treatment of Palestinians began during his military service in the West Bank and intensified after Oct. 7. Like Agmon-Snir, he used the word “fascist” to describe what he sees taking hold in Israeli society. Most Israelis, he said, have “zero ambition for a better place in any meaningful way.”
“They either worship Bibi or think he’s the source of all the problems,” he said, referring to Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu by his nickname.
With elections approaching, Ishai, who asked to be identified only by his first name because “this kind of talk could get me killed or at least fired,” said he saw little prospect of change at the ballot box.
“They all proclaim the exact same policies,” he said. Yair Golan, the former deputy IDF chief who leads the left-wing Democrats party, was the only major politician saying anything “even remotely towards peace,” Ishai said, though in his view Golan still advocated ruling Palestinians “with an iron fist.”
Anna Lukatsky, a Jaffa-based stylist and content creator, is moving to the Greek island of Paros for seven months after the High Holidays. The political climate played a role in the decision, she said, but was far from the determining factor, and she deliberately chooses not to dwell on it. “I have nothing to say politically beyond what has already been said.”
Oct. 7 did, however, reinforce a feeling that she should stop putting off the life she wanted. “There is never a good time to fulfill a dream. When things are good, it’s not a good time, and when things are bad, you can’t,” she said. “Anything can happen. Now is the time to live.”
She is going with her two daughters, 15 and 16, and their father — her longtime partner — whom she married only two weeks ago in an online Utah ceremony, mainly to help secure a European visa. Practical questions such as schooling and what comes next do not appear to trouble her much. Her daughters, both musicians, are not enrolled in school in Greece but will continue music lessons over Zoom. She seemed equally unfazed by what would happen to the belongings they leave behind.
“Who cares about a sofa or a plate when I’m moving to Paros?”
Beyond Paros, she has no fixed plans for what the family will do next — and where — only “plenty of dreams still to fulfill.”
While Israeli communities have formed in other Greek destinations such as Thessaloniki, Lukatsky said she was not seeking one out in Paros.
“I see myself by the sea in Greece, financially secure, writing my book, with time for my family,” she said.
Several weeks after moving to Arona, Meiri-Snir said life had become “very busy,” much of it socially. She and Agmon-Snir are part of a local circle of Israelis who meet regularly for dinners and other gatherings, while also spending time with a wider group of mostly European expats who meet each week for lunch. So far, she said, they have no regrets about the move.
Meiri-Snir described the reception from locals as uniformly warm, and said the couple were already recognized at local establishments.
“We don’t hide that we’re from Israel,” she told JTA over WhatsApp. People sometimes greet them with “shalom” or tell them they hope things will be all right in Israel.
“We haven’t felt any antisemitism at all,” she said.
Meiri-Snir was careful not to generalize from their experience. “I’m not trying to erase other people’s experiences of antisemitism,” she said, adding that she expected the atmosphere could be different in larger cities such as Milan or Bologna.
“Here it’s an area of small towns and villages, and the atmosphere is different,” she said. “
People are mostly concerned with their own affairs, and the attitude toward us here has been very pleasant and positive. That might surprise Israelis.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post War and uncertainty drives Israelis seeking quiet abroad appeared first on The Forward.

