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Standing on Albania’s Jew Street, I learned firsthand the country’s lifesaving culture of hospitality
BERAT, Albania (JTA) — Stone paths wind through the Ottoman-style houses built into the hillside of Berat, Albania. They lead to an imposing 13th-century castle at the peak — the top priority for most visitors to this 60,000-person town 90 minutes south of the capital, Tirana. I had other plans.
Albanians take pride in their ancient code of “besa,” which translates to “keep the promise” and leads them to prioritize guests and religion in their homes. For Albanian Jews or those who fled there from elsewhere in the Balkan Peninsula as German forces advanced during World War II, it promised safe harbor with Albanian families and even throughout entire towns. Albania is the only country in Europe whose Jewish population grew during the war.
Berat’s Solomoni Museum explains this history and that of earlier Jews in the area. At least, so I hear: Under the stone arches off the plaza, I found only locked doors.
Some people collect souvenir spoons or Starbucks city mugs when they travel, others collect memories. I collect fragments of Jewish identity. Planning this trip to Albania with friends, I insisted on a stop in Berat to see the small museum and wasn’t about to give up.
“I’ll call her,” offered the woman behind the desk at the Ethnographic Museum across the street. “Her” referred to the caretaker, the widow of the Orthodox Christian professor who started the museum — Albania’s only one dedicated to Jewish history — as a passion project funded by his pension. After Simon Vrusho’s death in 2019, the museum closed until a French-Albanian businessman heard the story and donated funds for it to reopen in a larger, permanent location.
But the call ended with bad news: The caretaker was sick, and the museum would remain closed. I grimaced. Seeing my reaction, the Ethnographic Museum docent did what all Albanians do — anything she could to make me feel better, to make sure I enjoyed my stay in her town. In this moment, that meant explaining everything she knew about Jews in Albania.
A view of the exterior of the Solomoni Museum, the country’s only museum about its Jewish history. (Naomi Tomky)
Jews first arrived in the country as Roman captives, almost 2,000 years ago. But the first major wave, especially to Berat, came from Spanish Jews fleeing the Inquisition. The Ottoman Empire, which ruled the area at the time, offered nominal religious freedom.
This month, the country’s prime minister announced plans to open a museum in Tirana dedicated to the stories of Albanian citizens who sheltered Jews during the Holocaust, when the country was occupied by both fascist Italy and later Nazi Germany. Yad Vashem, Israel’s Holocaust remembrance authority, has recognized at least 75 Albanians as Righteous Among the Nations for saving Jews.
“You can see the street where the Jews lived,” the docent noted. I perked up and jotted down her directions.
Six blocks away, I found a simple black plaque with white lettering, barely the size of my forearm and posted high on a white brick wall. It read, “Rruga Hebrentje.” I stared at it. Two millennia of Jewish history in the country, and one closed museum forced me to take heart in a little sign saying “Jew Street.”
A sign in Berat, Albania, reads Rruga Hebrentje, or Jew Street. (Naomi Tomky)
Jews have company in this razing of history: The brutal post-World War II communist regime of dictator Enver Hoxha shuttered all religious institutions in 1967, declaring Albania the world’s first atheist state. His forces destroyed more than 2,000 mosques, churches and other sacred buildings, arresting priests, clerics and imams, many of whom disappeared forever into labor camps and hidden graves. “Religion is the opium of the people,” Hoxha wrote, quoting Karl Marx.
It felt selfish to pout about the lack of Jewish history when so much religion, so many people and huge swaths of Albanian culture had been so recently and violently erased. I joined my friends to explore Berat’s exceptions to the wanton destruction, starting at the Sultan’s Mosque, which dates to the 15th century and boasts an intricately carved wooden ceiling. We expected to admire just the outside, since our guidebook said the doors opened only around Friday prayer.
But as we stared at the somewhat ordinary façade, a friendly gentleman chatted us up. He spoke Albanian, Greek and a bit of Italian, the last of which proved useful at matching up to our Spanish and French. He told us a little about the mosque and the casual styles of observance by most Albanian Muslims, but we only realized he worked there when he invited us inside, retrieving a key when we responded with excitement.
We marveled at the green, red and gold ceiling, illuminated by a round chandelier. He asked if we wanted to climb up the minaret, warning us about the ascent. Narrower than the width of my hips, the tightly coiled spiral of 94 stairs featured a layer of dust and cobwebs that stuck to our bare feet. But at the top, swallowing my fear of heights, confined spaces and bugs, I reaped the reward: a 360-degree view of the “thousand windows” that give the town its nickname, flanking both banks of the Osumi River, and the double eagle of Albania’s red flag flying proudly above it all from the castle.
A view of the ceiling inside the Sultans Mosque in Berat. (Naomi Tomky)
Back on the ground, we thanked the man profusely and dropped donations in the box outside the mosque door as we prepared to say goodbye. Instead, he led us across the square to another building – the Halveti Tekke, or Teqe. Light flowed through the high stained-glass windows onto the walls of the 700-year-old gathering place belonging to the mystic order of Sufi Muslims called Bektashi. Chains hung from the ornate gold-leaf-decorated ceiling over a space where, according to our new friend, the bektashi, or dervishes, used to perform their whirling rituals.
“You want to go up?” he asked my friend’s eight-year-old daughter. She nodded excitedly, and he tossed her a ring of keys, pointing the way to the balcony. As she climbed the stairs, I noticed a pair of six-pointed stars framing the main doorway, a reminder of my original mission, even if they were likely not Stars of David.
But if I felt sad about missing out on the Jewish museum, I was heartened by what I did receive: a first-hand lesson on Albania’s life-saving culture of hospitality.
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20 Percent of UK Students Would Not Share Room with Jews, Report Says Amid Deepening Antisemitism Crisis
Cambridge students march against Israel on March 10, 2025. Photo: Martin Pope / SOPA Images via Reuters Connect.
A new report by the Union of Jewish Students (UJS) say that Jewish campus life in Great Britain is rapidly deteriorating amid a resurgence of antisemitism across the nation.
Released on Monday, the report, titled “Time for Change: A Landmark Report on UK Campus Antisemitism,” highlights a climate of increasing fear for Jewish students.
47 percent of Jewish students, for example, report having heard their classmates justify the Oct. 7 massacre in which Hamas slaughtered civilians and committed mass rape; 23 percent have witnessed Jewish students persecuted over their identity; as many 36 percent have either lost friends in this new milieu or know someone who has; and a shocking 40 percent report “having changed their journey through campus” to avoid anti-Zionist protests occurring every week at some universities.
“This report demonstrates that antisemitism on campus is not isolated but normalised,” Union of Jewish Students president Louis Danker said in a statement. “No Jewish student should have to face social ostracism, abusive language or physical violence — there is a right to protest but not harass. If we are serious about combatting extremism in Britain, we have to start on campus, where half of students have seen glorification of Hamas or Hezbollah. Concerned sentiments and piecemeal progress are not enough.”
Some of report’s most concerning findings focused on anti-Jewish sentiments expressed by non-Jewish students. 20 percent said they prefer not be roommates with a Jewish person, while a quarter of students surveyed say that arguing that “Zionists control the media/government” does not constitute antisemitism. Responding to a separate question, 16 percent expressed approval of saying outright that “Jews control the media/government.”
“An environment in which Jews cannot be full members of the community, one which we are ‘othered’ and excluded and insulted is a failing environment,” David Finklestein, a member of the upper house of Parliament, said in a foreword contributed to the report. “Universities are a place where people can exchange ideas and learn facts in an atmosphere of civility, equality, and respect. Bullying people because of their ethnicity or history or political views is completely unacceptable and a university administration that ignores such bullying is failing in its duties.”
The Algemeiner has previously reported on campus antisemitism Great Britain. At City St. George’s, University of London Israeli professor Michael Ben-Gad has been unrelentingly pursued by a pro-Hamas organization which calls itself City Action for Palestine. It has subjected him to several forms of persecution, including social media agitprop, spontaneous, unlawful assembly at his place of work, and even a petition of their own.
In 2023, just months before Hamas’s Oct. 7 massacre in southern Israel, the National Union of Students (NUS), a body representing thousands of university students in the UK, apologized for discriminating against Jewish students.
In November 2022, NUS removed president Shaima Dallali after finding her guilty of antisemitism and other misconduct. Dallali’s tenure at NUS brimmed with controversies, including the discovery of tweets in which she called Hamas critics “Dirty Zionists” and quoted the battle cry, “Khaybar, Khaybar o Jews, the army of Muhammad will return,” a reference to the Battle of Khaybar in 628 that resulted in a massacre of Jews.
Follow Dion J. Pierre @DionJPierre.
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We Should Be Welcoming All Jews and Bringing Them Closer — Despite Religious Differences
Reading from a Torah scroll in accordance with Sephardi tradition. Photo: Sagie Maoz via Wikimedia Commons.
We Jews have always liked to argue about religion, and everything from kashrut to conversion. Often these differences are far from polite. In every branch and variation of Judaism (as elsewhere), there are sects and extremes, iconoclasts and revisionists, insiders and outsiders. It pains me that we seem so incapable of overcoming such differences and conflicts amicably.
There is an axiom in religious life (all religions, not just Judaism) that those more religious than you are fanatics, and anyone less religious is a doomed sinner. The joke may be extreme, but I think we can all relate to the sentiment.
I could never understand why, for many years, the established Orthodoxy was opposed to going to and teaching at Jewish conferences simply because there might also be people there whose ideas about Judaism they did not share. Neither could I understand the argument that one should not go to Reform communities to teach Torah. On the contrary, if they are so misled by their heretical rabbis, surely it would only be beneficial to go and share another point of view — unless one is so insecure that there might be a risk of backsliding.
The Lubavitch movement is successful precisely because it does not prejudge, and regards every Jew as worthy of attention, regardless of background. And on the other side, anyone vaguely familiar with Reform Judaism in Israel and much of the Diaspora knows that much (not all) of it is seriously trying to come to terms with how to get back to a more traditional way of life with more Hebrew and study.
Of course, as a traditionalist, I disagree with those who make light of our religious traditions and laws. But to some extent, we all choose what to focus on and what not to. I can understand communities that want to preserve their specific identities by excluding those who wish to undermine them. But we can still treat others with tolerance and understanding out of simple good manners. We are such a small people, we cannot afford to lose even more people than we do through ignorance and defection. And thank goodness for those of all variations we welcome in with open doors.
I may not agree with much of Reform ideology and ritual, but I also believe Orthodoxy could have and should be much more flexible. I admire a great deal in the Haredi world, but I think they are seriously mistaken over their attitude to serving Israel’s military needs. And I deplore Neturei Karta’s support of Iranian mass murderers, as I do secular Israelis who want to undermine the Jewish State. Opposition comes from both sides.
There is a Talmudic principle that a Jewish child captured by non-Jews, a Tinnok SheNishba, could not possibly be found guilty of breaking Jewish law since he (or she) would have had no positive experiences of it to be able to make a positive decision. The saintly rabbi known as the Chafetz Chaim (Yisrael Meir Kagan 1838-1933) used this to argue that most modern Jews have never experienced the passion and intensity of genuine Torah spirituality, and therefore cannot be blamed for rejecting something they know nothing of. You can only be a genuine heretic if you really know what it is you are rebelling against!
I would welcome anyone, no matter who, from whatever background, who wanted to identify as a Jew, study and participate. They should be welcomed and encouraged to explore the varieties of Jewish experience and decide where they fit in. And we should do our best to draw them closer and help with any problems of integration they might face.
On Pesach, we will read about the four different sons including the “bad one” with different approaches to Torah. But at least they sat around the same table and were participating in the Seder.
We should use Torah to bring Jews closer — including those who have drifted, and the misguided ones — not to insult them and push them further away just because they have a different view than ours.
The author is a writer and rabbi, based in New York.
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Tehran’s Escalation Doctrine: Why Iran Is Targeting the Entire Middle East
Smoke rises after reported Iranian missile attacks, following United States and Israel strikes on Iran, as seen from Doha, Qatar, March 1, 2026. Photo: REUTERS/Mohammed Salem
Iran’s latest missile and drone strikes across the Gulf signal a dangerous strategic shift. What once appeared to be a confrontation primarily between Tehran, Israel, and the United States is rapidly transforming into a wider regional conflict. By conducting military assaults on Saudi Arabia, Qatar, the United Arab Emirates, and Bahrain, the Islamic Republic has effectively widened the battlefield and placed the stability of the entire Middle East at risk.
On March 7, 2026, Iranian President Masoud Pezeshkian publicly apologized to Iran’s Gulf neighbors after Iranian missile and drone strikes triggered air defense alerts in those states. In a televised statement, he expressed regret for the attacks and claimed that Tehran would halt strikes on neighboring countries unless attacks against Iran originated from their territory. But even as he spoke, air defense sirens and missile interceptions were continuing across the Gulf region. Then the government walked the statement back.
For many countries in the Middle East, the contradiction is glaring. Iran’s apology appeared less a genuine effort at de-escalation and more a familiar Iranian tactic: spinning rhetorical damage control while continuing its aggression.
This pattern is hardly new. For decades, the Islamic Republic has pursued a strategy that blends diplomacy, denial, and deception with relentless expansionism. The result is a geopolitical doctrine aimed not merely at confronting Israel or the United States, but at reshaping the entire Middle East under Tehran’s ideological and strategic dominance.
Iranian leaders have long framed their military posture as defensive, but the reality unfolding across the Middle East tells a very different story. Missiles fired toward Saudi territory, drones intercepted over Gulf cities, and attacks linked to Iranian proxies across multiple theaters point to a broader strategy of coercion. Rather than confining its conflict to direct adversaries, Tehran is increasingly pressuring neutral or semi-neutral states in order to expand the battlefield.
The remarks of Muhammad‑Bagher Ghalibaf, speaker of Iran’s parliament, made this explicit. Ghalibaf declared on social media that Iran’s defense doctrine follows the ideological guidance of the Islamic Republic’s revolutionary leadership and warned that peace will remain impossible as long as American military bases exist in the region.
This statement was effectively a strategic threat to every Middle Eastern state hosting American forces. It confirmed what regional leaders have long suspected: Iran views the entire Gulf security architecture, not merely Israel, as a legitimate target.
One of the most striking aspects of Iran’s recent escalation is that it has drawn states into the conflict that were actively attempting to avoid confrontation. Countries across the Gulf Cooperation Council had pursued diplomatic efforts to reduce tensions between Iran and its adversaries. Oman, for example, had played a leading mediating role in discussions surrounding Iran’s nuclear program.
Yet Iranian missiles and drones have now placed these very states directly in the line of fire. Strategically, this approach is baffling. By striking Gulf territories or allowing projectiles to fall near critical infrastructure, Tehran risks transforming potential mediators into determined adversaries. Analysts have long warned that attacks on Gulf states could collapse the region’s delicate neutrality and push Arab governments into closer alignment with the United States and Israel. In other words, Iran’s escalation may be strengthening the very coalition it claims to oppose.
The Islamic Republic’s behavior cannot be understood purely in military terms. At its core lies an ideological framework embedded in the doctrine of Vilayat-e-Faqih: “Guardianship of the Islamic Jurist.” This system, created after the Iranian Revolution, grants ultimate political authority to the clerical leadership rather than elected institutions. The result is a hybrid regime in which electoral politics exist but real power rests with a religious elite that defines foreign policy through ideological confrontation.
For this leadership, regional dominance is not merely a strategic ambition. It is a revolutionary obligation. From Iraq to Syria, Lebanon, and Yemen, Tehran has cultivated proxy networks that extend its influence far beyond its borders. These networks allow Iran to wage asymmetric warfare while maintaining plausible deniability. The expansion of this strategy into the Gulf itself marks a new and dangerous phase.
Iran’s confrontation with Gulf states is not only militarily reckless. It is economically self-destructive. The Persian Gulf and the Strait of Hormuz form one of the most vital arteries of global commerce. Disruptions in the region affect energy markets, maritime trade routes, and strategic industrial supply chains.
Iranian actions that threaten shipping lanes risk destabilizing not only regional economies but also global technological industries. Qatar, for example, plays a significant role in the export of helium, a critical resource used in semiconductor manufacturing and advanced technologies. Any disruption in Gulf logistics reverberates across industries ranging from artificial intelligence to aerospace.
If Tehran’s objective is to impose costs on its adversaries, it must recognize that such disruptions will also inevitably damage Iran itself. Economic isolation, sanctions pressure, and investor flight are predictable consequences of escalating regional conflict. In strategic terms, Iran’s current approach resembles an “economic own goal” — a policy that undermines its own long-term stability.
The Islamic Republic’s external aggression reflects deep internal vulnerabilities. Years of economic hardship, corruption scandals, and political repression have eroded public confidence in the ruling establishment. Anti-government protests have repeatedly shaken the regime, revealing widespread dissatisfaction across Iranian society. The leadership in Tehran therefore faces a familiar dilemma.
Authoritarian systems often attempt to consolidate power by redirecting domestic frustration toward external enemies. Foreign confrontation becomes a tool for internal cohesion. In this context, escalation abroad may serve a political purpose at home: reinforcing the narrative that Iran is surrounded by hostile forces and must rally behind its revolutionary leadership. Yet such strategies carry enormous risk. History demonstrates that regimes relying on external conflict to sustain legitimacy often accelerate their own downfall.
The Middle East now faces a critical strategic question: Will Iran’s campaign of intimidation continue unchecked, or will the threatened regional states coordinate a collective response? The growing convergence of security interests between Israel and several Arab states represents one possible outcome. Iranian escalation may inadvertently accelerate regional cooperation against Tehran’s ambitions. The normalization processes that began in recent years could gain renewed urgency if the Gulf states conclude that Iran’s threats are directed not only at Israel but at the entire regional order.
At the same time, the United States remains a central factor in the strategic equation. In Tehran’s calculus, American military installations across the Gulf serve as both deterrents and potential targets. Iran’s repeated warnings about these bases indicate that the regime views the broader American security architecture as a critical obstacle to its regional ambitions.
Another factor shaping Iran’s future is the question of leadership. The Islamic Republic now faces a profound political vacuum. Despite widespread dissatisfaction with the regime, no unified opposition figure has yet emerged capable of mobilizing the population around a coherent alternative vision. This absence of leadership allows the ruling clerical establishment to maintain its grip on power even as public frustration grows. Yet history suggests that such conditions rarely remain static. The pressures created by economic stagnation, international isolation, and internal dissent can eventually converge to bring about transformative political change.
For Iran, the central challenge is whether a new leadership capable of reconciling the country with its neighbors and the international community will emerge before the current system pushes the region into wider conflict.
The Iranian regime’s recent missile and drone attacks across the Gulf reveal a dangerous strategic reality: Tehran’s confrontation is no longer limited to Israel or the United States. It is evolving into a broader campaign of intimidation against the entire Middle Eastern order.
By targeting or threatening Gulf states that had sought neutrality, the Islamic Republic risks uniting the region against it. By escalating military pressure while offering hollow diplomatic apologies, it exposes the contradiction at the heart of its strategy. And by prioritizing ideological confrontation over economic stability, it places the welfare of the Iranian people at risk.
If the current trajectory continues, Iran will not succeed in dominating the Middle East. Instead, it may accomplish the opposite — driving its neighbors, the United States, and Israel into an increasingly unified coalition determined to contain the ambitions of a regime whose revolutionary ideology has turned regional leadership into a permanent state of war.
Salah Uddin Shoaib Choudhury is editor of the Bangladesh-based publication Blitz and a commentator on Islamist extremism, terrorism, and South Asian geopolitics. A version of this article was originally published by The BESA Center.
