Adolf Hitler in Nuremberg in 1938. Photo: Imperial War Museums.

A live music bar and cafe in Australia was shut down by local police on Wednesday for displaying posters that depict world leaders and others, including Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and US President Donald Trump, wearing Nazi-like uniforms.

The Dissent Cafe and Bar in Canberra Central said in a Facebook post that ACT Policing, the community policing arm of the Australian Federal Police, shut down the venue for two and a half hours on Wednesday night. Police said they were investigating a complaint about possible hate imagery relating to five posters in the venue’s window display. A scheduled performance at the bar and cafe was also canceled because of the shutdown.

ACT Policing said in a statement on Thursday that it declared the cafe a crime scene and officers would investigate whether there was a breach of new Commonwealth law about hate symbols. Police noted that they asked the venue’s owner to remove the posters and he refused.

“Officers attended the premises and had a discussion with the owner, with officers seeking to remove the posters as part of their investigation into the matter. The owner declined this request and so a crime scene was established,” read the police statement. “Five posters were subsequently seized and will be considered under recently enacted Commonwealth legislation regarding hate symbols.”

The Dissent Cafe and Bar had displayed in its front windows posters depicting Netanyahu, Trump, Russia’s President Vladimir Putin, US Vice President JD Vance and Tesla co-founder Elon Musk in Nazi-like uniforms. The posters were created by the artist group Grow Up Art and underneath them were signs in the window that said “Sanction Israel” and “Stop Genocide.” Grow Up Art displayed the same images as part of a billboard poster campaign last summer and they are also sold on t-shirts. The artist group nicknamed the men in the posters collectively as “The Turd Reich,” a play on the Third Reich, the name for the Nazi dictatorship in Germany under Adolf Hitler’s rule.

Dissent Cafe and Bar has defended the artwork, saying it is “clearly and obviously parody art with a distinct anti fascist [sic] message.”

“In what is obviously harassment the ACT police have declared a crime scene at Dissent and tonight’s gig is unfortunately canceled,” Dissent Cafe and Bar wrote on Facebook when the closure happened on Wednesday.

The posters have since been placed back in the windows of the live music bar, but the images are now covered with the word “CENSORED” in red. ACT Policing said on Thursday they are still investigating the posters and are also “seeking legal advice on their legality.”

“ACT Policing remains committed to ensuring that alleged antisemitic, racist, and hate incidents are addressed promptly and thoroughly, and when possible criminality is identified, ACT Policing will not hesitate to take appropriate action,” police added.

USPresident Donald Trump speaks at the inaugural Board of Peace meeting at the US Institute of Peace in Washington, DC, US, Feb. 19, 2026. Photo: REUTERS/Kevin Lamarque

US President Donald Trump told the first meeting of his Board of Peace on Thursday that nations had contributed $7 billion to a Gaza reconstruction fund that aims to rebuild the enclave once Hamas disarms, an objective that is far from becoming a reality.

The disarmament of Hamas terrorists and accompanying withdrawal of Israeli troops, the size of the reconstruction fund, and the flow of humanitarian aid to the war-battered populace of Gaza are among the major questions likely to test the effectiveness of the board in the months ahead.

The meeting in Washington came amid a broader push by Trump to build a reputation as a peacemaker. It also took place as the United States threatens war against Iran and has embarked on a massive military buildup in the region in case Tehran refuses to give up its nuclear program.

The Board‘s founding membership does not include some key US Western allies concerned about the scope of the initiative.

In a flurry of announcements at the end of a long, winding speech to representatives from 47 nations, Trump said the United States will contribute $10 billion to the Board of Peace. He did not say where the money would come from or whether he would seek it from the US Congress.

MOSTLY MIDDLE EASTERN MEMBERSHIP

Trump said contributing nations had raised $7 billion as an initial down payment for Gaza reconstruction. Contributors included Kazakhstan, Azerbaijan, United Arab Emirates, Morocco, Bahrain, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, Uzbekistan, and Kuwait, he said. The membership is mostly made up of Middle Eastern countries, plus leaders from outside the region who may be looking to gain favor with Trump.

Estimates for rebuilding Gaza, which was reduced to rubble after two years of war, range up to $70 billion.

Trump proposed the board in September when he announced his plan to end Israel’s war in Gaza. He later made clear the board‘s remit would expand beyond Gaza to tackle other conflicts worldwide, a point he reiterated on Wednesday by saying it would look into “hotspots” around the world.

Trump said FIFA will raise $75 million for soccer-related projects in Gaza and that the United Nations will chip in $2 billion for humanitarian assistance.

The Board of Peace includes Israel but not Palestinian representatives. Trump‘s suggestion that the Board could eventually address challenges beyond Gaza has stirred anxiety that it could undermine the UN’s role as the main platform for global diplomacy and conflict resolution.

“We’re going to strengthen the United Nations,” Trump said, trying to assuage his critics, even though the United States is in arrears on making payments.

Trump said Norway would host a Board of Peace event, but Norway clarified it was not joining the board.

IRAN SABER-RATTLING

Even as he talked up himself as a man of peace, Trump rattled sabers against Iran.

Trump said he should know in 10 days whether a deal is possible to end a standoff with Tehran. “We have to have a meaningful deal,” he said.

Trump said several nations are planning to send thousands of troops to participate in an International Stabilization Force that will help keep the peace in Gaza when it eventually deploys.

Indonesian President Prabowo Subianto announced his country would contribute up to 8,000 troops to the force.

The plan for the force is to begin working in areas Israel controls in the absence of Hamas disarmament. The force, led by a US general with an Indonesian deputy, will start in Israeli-controlled Rafah. The aim is to train 12,000 police and have 20,000 troops.

“The first five countries have committed troops to serve in the ISF – Indonesia, Morocco, Kazakhstan, Kosovo, and Albania. Two countries have committed to train police – Egypt and Jordan,” International Stabilization Force commander Army Major General Jasper Jeffers said on Thursday.

HAMAS DISARMAMENT A KEY ISSUE

Hamas has been reluctant to hand over weaponry as part of Trump‘s 20-point Gaza plan that brought about a fragile ceasefire last October in the two-year Gaza war.

Trump said he hoped the use of force to disarm Hamas would be unnecessary. He said Hamas had promised to disarm and it “looks like they’re going to be doing that, but we’ll have to find out.”

Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu said in Israel that Hamas will be disarmed one way or the other. “Very soon, Hamas will face a dilemma – to disarm peacefully or disarmed forcefully,” he said.

In Gaza, Hamas spokesperson Hazem Qassem said in a statement that the real test of the Board of Peace “lies in their ability to compel the occupation to halt its violations of the ceasefire, to oblige it to meet its obligations, and to initiate a genuine relief effort and launch the reconstruction process.”

The Board of Peace event had the feel of a Trump campaign rally, with music blaring from his eclectic playlist that included Elvis Presley and the Beach Boys. Participants received red Trump hats.

Hamas, which has resumed administration of nearly half the enclave, says it is ready to hand over to a US-backed committee of Palestinian technocrats led by Ali Shaath, but that Israel has not allowed the group into Gaza. Israel has yet to comment on those assertions.

Nickolay Mladenov, a Bulgarian with a senior role in the Board of Peace, said at the meeting that 2,000 Palestinians have applied to join a new transitional Palestinian police force.

“We have to get this right. There is no plan B for Gaza. Plan B is going back to war. No one here wants that,” said US Secretary of State Marco Rubio.

A store damaged during Kristallnacht. Photo: German Federal Archives via Wikimedia Commons.

In an age of slogans and shortcuts, Andreas E. Mach has written a meticulous, unflinching book. Jüdische Familienunternehmer in Hitlers München (“Jewish Family Entrepreneurs in Hitler’s Munich”) is not only a history of businesses — it is a map back to a city that once existed, and a ledger of how it was unmade.

Mach’s canvas is Munich from the 19th century through the aftermath of 1945. His method is documentary and patient: city directories and business registers; police and tax files; contemporary newspapers; memoirs and family papers. From this archive he reconstructs the families who shaped Munich’s modern economy — department stores like Bamberger & Hertz, fashion and textile manufacturers, breweries and beverage firms, banks, and the great art dealerships (Bernheimer, Drey, Heinemann, Thannhauser, Rosenthal, Helbing). He shows how these Jewish-founded enterprises fueled jobs, style, philanthropy, and civic leadership — and how, step by step, they were boycotted, expropriated, “Aryanized,” and erased from the city’s commercial map.

The book opens with a foreword by Dr. h.c. Charlotte Knobloch (July 2024), president of the Jewish Community of Munich and Upper Bavaria and former president of the Central Council of Jews in Germany. Her message is clear: remembrance is responsibility amid rising antisemitism.

Mach is a political scientist and historian from a southern German entrepreneurial family, with studies in Germany, Italy, and the Netherlands (M.A.) and in the U.S. (M.P.I.A.), early work in investment banking, and, since 2005, the founding of the international family-enterprise forum ALPHAZIRKEL.

A photographic essay explains the cover image: in March 1933, Munich lawyer Dr. Michael Siegel was beaten, forced barefoot through the city, and made to wear a placard. Mach places that humiliation inside a system that very quickly moved from intimidation to dispossession. He then widens the lens: a historical overview traces the growth of Munich’s Jewish community — from 1,206 members in 1852 to more than 11,000 by 1910 — its institutions (the 1887 main synagogue on Herzog-Max-Straße with roughly 2,000 seats; Ohel Jakob; prayer houses and charities), and its contributions to a capital that became internationally respected in art and culture. He notes that by 2022 the community again counted roughly 11,000 members, and that Jewish life is once more visible in the cityscape with the 2006 synagogue and cultural center at Jakobsplatz.

Mach’s narrative is careful about complexity. He documents assimilation and civic engagement — business leadership, philanthropy, even sports (Kurt Landauer’s presidency at FC Bayern) — but he also records the persistence of antisemitism before 1918, debates over Zionism, and the arrival of poorer Eastern Jews whose visibility fed prejudice. He includes wartime service and suspicion side by side: around 100,000 Jews served in the German army in World War I; the humiliating Judenzählung of Nov. 1, 1916 sought to prove Jews shirked the front, yet subsequent figures showed similar front-line rates (and decorations) to non-Jews — but the results were not published at the time. Mach quotes and paraphrases contemporary Jewish voices who felt they were fighting “on two fronts” — for the country and for equal rights.

The revolutionary crisis of 1918–1919 is presented as prelude rather than detour. Mach recounts the proclamation of the Free State of Bavaria on Nov. 8, 1918, by Kurt Eisner; his assassination on Feb. 21, 1919; the brief council republics; and the brutal “white terror” that followed. He names the murdered and condemned — Gustav Landauer beaten to death after arrest; Eugen Leviné executed; Ernst Toller sentenced; Erich Mühsam imprisoned — and records the double standard in sentencing: perpetrators from the Reichswehr and Freikorps often received lenient treatment while revolutionaries were abused and, in some cases, murdered. The period also ushers in figures who will define the next era: Rudolf Heß, Alfred Rosenberg, Hans Frank, Dietrich Eckart, and Adolf Hitler’s first steps in 1919 under Captain Karl Mayr, including the antisemitic “Mayr letter.” Mach’s point is cumulative: explanations, enemies, and habits of looking away were practiced in these years, and Munich became the stage on which they would later be performed.

When Mach turns fully to “Hitler’s Munich,” the argument is anchored by street-level facts. He documents the April 1, 1933 boycott — photographed, staged, and effective as intimidation. He details the demolition of the main synagogue in June 1938 on Hitler’s order: the contractor (Leonhard Moll), the speed (within a month), and the compensation (200,000 Reichsmarks) to remove what Hitler called an “eyesore.” He tracks the Nov. 9–10, 1938 pogrom in Munich with specific images and captions (smashed windows at the Bernheimer gallery on Lenbachplatz; the boycott poster at Bamberger & Hertz on Kaufingerstraße), and notes that nearly all adult Jewish men were deported to Dachau in the aftermath. Individual fates punctuate the narrative — among them the arrest of banker Emil Krämer. Administrative theft is made visible: Jews were compelled to declare assets; by 1938, Jewish losses in Germany totaled roughly 12 billion RM; in Munich alone Mach cites roughly 600 million RM in real estate and nearly 150 million RM in securities and balances registered in 1938. On countless forms, one formula recurs: “The property falls to the Reich.”

Mach also reproduces the texture of “Aryanization” as it appeared to the public. He cites a Völkischer Beobachter advertisement of July 25, 1938 announcing that the porcelain, glass, and household goods firm “formerly Martin Pauson” had been transferred into “German ownership.” He shows how city paperwork could continue to list Jewish firms even as their owners were being forced from homes into Judenhäuser, or into hiding. At Munich’s liberation on April 30, 1945, only 34 Jews were found in hiding in the city. Mach references research on Jews who attempted to survive underground in Munich and Upper Bavaria, the dangers they and their helpers faced, and the gap between postwar stories of universal assistance and the record of denunciation and greed.

The book’s architecture makes its case. After the narrative chapters — “Jüdisches Leben in München – ein historischer Überblick bis 1918” (“Jewish Life in Munich – A Historical Overview Until 1918”), “Das München der Revolution – Prélude des Holocaust” (“The Munich of the Revolution – Prelude to the Holocaust”), “Hitlers München: die ‘braune’ Stadt” (“Hitler’s Munich: the ‘brown’ city”), “Arisierung und Restitution” (“Aryanization and Restitution”), and the detailed account of November 1938 — Mach opens into registers readers can use: a directory of businesses affected during the pogrom; a reprint-based listing of Jewish business owners recorded by the trade police in 1938; and studies of Nazi art plunder in Munich. He then offers sector and firm profiles: leading art dealers (A.S. Drey, Heinemann, Thannhauser, Bernheimer, Helbing, Caspari, and others); selected family companies (including bank and retail houses); Jewish lawyers; and a long section on fashion and textiles (department stores, manufacturers, tailors, wholesalers). A distinct contribution is the inclusion of Lotte Bamberger’s memoir (with German translation), which threads one family’s trajectory through the commercial and moral topography Mach has drawn.

Throughout, Mach refuses euphemism. He writes with moral clarity but without sermonizing: he lays out the documents, then the consequences; he names who benefited, who signed, who looked away, and who helped. He proves that the story of Jewish family enterprise is not ancillary to Munich’s identity — it is central. When those families were expelled, the city did not simply “change”; it lost part of itself.

On a personal note, I met Andreas once — and that was enough. Charismatic and purposeful, he cuts through the noise with a quiet insistence on truth at a moment when too many remain silent or choose the wrong side as antisemitism rises worldwide. For years I heard about him from one of my closest friends, Emil Schustermann, who spoke of Andreas with steady admiration. This past summer I was fortunate to meet the legend in person. The integrity you feel in his book is the integrity you feel across a table: steady, unsentimental, anchored in facts and responsibility.

Jüdische Familienunternehmer in Hitlers München is, finally, a usable history. It helps citizens, students, and leaders see Munich differently: storefronts as testimonies, plaques as prompts, absences as questions. It closes the distance between numbers and names, between street addresses and fates. And it leaves readers with the task the book so plainly sets — to remember precisely, to teach honestly, and to stand, now, against the same old hatred in its new clothes.

Eli Verschleiser is a NYC-based entrepreneur, financier, real estate developer, and investor. In his philanthropy, he is Chairman for Our Place, among other nonprofit organizations that provide support, shelter, and counseling for troubled Jewish youth. He is a frequent commentator on political and social services matters and can be followed on X (formerly Twitter): @E_Verschleiser