Uncategorized
Steven Salen, a tailor who survived the Holocaust and dressed presidents, dies at 103
NEW YORK — (JTA) — Nothing riled Steven Salen like a powerful man in a bad suit.
“‘That suit fits terribly!’” his daughter Elayne Landau recalled him as yelling at the TV, multiple times. “‘How’s he going to get elected? Elayne, send him a letter.’ He would dictate the letter. ‘I’m watching you on television. That suit fits horribly. You really look like you’re one-sided. Come see me!’
Sometimes, Landau recalled in an interview, she would even send the letter. And a couple of times there was a polite and friendly reply.
Salen, 103, died on Nov. 23 at a hospital in Manhasset, New York. He was a Holocaust survivor, a savvy war-era black marketeer, and then once landing New York, he built up a reputation as an outfitter — a “bespoke tailor,” as his family put it — to the powerful and influential, working until he was 95.
Salen loved talking about the opportunities this country gave him, but like many survivors, he didn’t begin to open up about the horrors he witnessed and suffered until late in his life — in his case, in his 90s.
He enjoyed regaling his children and grandchildren about his clients and what he designed to make them look good, recalled his granddaughter, Rachel Landau Fisher. One time, he saw an old photo of a man on a tarmac in a trim gray overcoat. Salen said he had made the coat.
The photo was of President Richard Nixon shaking hands with Chinese premier Zhou Enlai in Beijing, the launch of a history-shaking visit that thawed U.S.-China ties.
President Richard Nixon shaking hands with Chou EnLai while wearing a coat that Steven Salen told his family he’d made, Feb. 21, 1972. (U.S. National Archives)
“His grandchildren, Jake, Sofia, Rachel and Sam enjoyed his many stories, including a favorite of a Mafia client walking in on FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover in his underwear during a fitting,” his granddaughter, Landau Fisher, wrote in a remembrance.
At his home in Bayside, Queens, he kept mementos of his career: Handwritten entries in ledgers spanning decades, including names like Nixon, and his secretary of state, Henry Kissinger. A framed 1980 check from former President Gerald Ford for $3,170. Gerald Ford tie clips. A hardcover and pristine copy of Kissinger’s remembrance, “White House Years,” with an inscription, “To Steve Salen, who makes me look almost presentable.” A client list from 2000 that includes names like Hearst and Scorcese.
“Martin Scorsese was one of his last clients,” Elayne Landau said of the film director. “So was Harvey Keitel.”
Salen was an old-school, word-of-mouth tailor who started working at FL Dunn on Fifth Avenue in New York, and eventually had his own full-floor atelier on Madison Avenue and 53rd Street, at the heart of the city’s high-fashion district.
In 2011, when Salen already topped 90, the New York style blog “The Trad” profiled his shop. It began, “Back in the ’50s, there were 300-400 bespoke tailors in NYC. Today — there might be 30.”
“They don’t have a web site. They sure as hell don’t have any marketing savvy. Steven can’t even figure out his phone. But they can build you a suit. In fact, they build suits for a lotta shops in NYC who claim to build their own,” the blog reported. “You get chalked up. And then what? Where does your suit go? China? Mexico? Turkey? Or, to the 11th floor of an office building in midtown Manhattan.” (“It ain’t cheap,” the blogger advises.)
Occasionally Salen would pop up in an aside in an article about the rarefied occupants of New York’s social stratosphere, as when the New York Times Magazine profiled antiquarians Leigh and Leslie Keno in 1986 (they are now famed as appraisers on PBS’s “Antiques Road Show”).
“After years of searching for the perfect tailor, they finally found one they feel meets their specifications, a man named Steven Salen,” the Times said. “He passed the brothers’ acid test for tailors by spotting immediately that each twin has an arm that’s a quarter of an inch longer than the other.”
Steve Salen at his granddaughter Rachel Landau’s wedding in 2020. (Family)
Salen would not tell his children about his life before his arrival in the United States unless he had to explain the marks his suffering had left on his body.
“He told the story of how, to his amazement, he twisted off his frozen toes and didn’t even feel it,” Elayne Landau wrote in a eulogy, describing the time her father spent on the Russian front as a slave of the Nazi war machine. “We had seen his feet, you see, so he had to say something about that.”
“He was a Holocaust survivor, but as much as that experience shaped who he was, he did not want to be defined by it,” she wrote. “I understood this because growing up in a community of refugees, we didn’t ask these questions and for the most part, people didn’t offer. People needed to move on.”
He worked ceaselessly, Landau said in the interview. “I remember on Sundays we used to go to Schwartzbaum, which was a woolen shop on the Lower East Side on Delancey street to buy cloth, so this was a seven-day-a-week thing for him,” she said.
And then, in his 90s he began to open up, and Elayne Landau saw an opportunity to get close to the father who spent her childhood working.
“He remarked frequently that he can’t believe he made it,” she wrote in her eulogy. “And he began to want to talk about it. Sadly, by this time, well into his 90s, he could not recall many specifics. But with the help of the few reminiscences that I’d written down through the years, Rachel and I were able to piece together the outlines of his story.”
He was born Zoltan Salomon in Nelipyno, Czechoslovakia in 1919. In 1939, in what he would later describe as some of the best years of his life, he was learning tailoring at a trade school run by the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee.
Then the Nazis arrived and they deported Salen. He never saw his parents or seven of his 11 siblings again. Russians liberated him in 1943. “He told me how the Russian soldiers gave the Jews guns to shoot their German captors,” Elayne Landau recalled. “He said some people did.”
He joined the Czechoslovakian army and became a supply sergeant, which required sharp business skills to negotiate the black market. A fellow black marketeer had a cousin, Frantisca, who was 18; she and Salen were married within three weeks. They arrived in New York in 1949, and Salen landed a job as a tailor almost immediately.
His wife, who took the American name Frances, predeceased him, and so did his son, Jeff, a founder of the seminal 1970s punk band, Tuff Darts, who died of a heart attack in 2008. He is survived by his daughter, Elayne, son-in-law Matthew Landau, daughter-in-law Diana Salen and his four grandchildren.
“He really wanted to be defined by his American life,” Elayne Landau said. “He was so grateful for being here you could never say anything bad about against America.”
His granddaughter, Rachel Landau Fisher, said he and her grandmother drew slightly different pleasures from their American experience.
“He and his wife were most honored to have tea with First Lady Betty Ford after fitting the president at the White House,” she said. “His happiest place was at a poker table in the Catskills’ Concord Hotel.”
—
The post Steven Salen, a tailor who survived the Holocaust and dressed presidents, dies at 103 appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
Uncategorized
Possible Platner replacements and their divergent stands on Israel
(JTA) — Following the implosion of Graham Platner — a harsh critic of Israel who lobbed a parting shot about “genocide” in Gaza in his video Wednesday quitting the Maine Senate race — a number of possible replacements have emerged. And as their names have surfaced, interest and questions about their positions on issues of concern to the Jewish community also have arisen.
There is a significant range of views among the possible candidates on the American Israel Public Affairs Committee pro-Israel lobby, arms sales to Israel and whether there was a genocide in Gaza, based on their past and recent comments.
In statements to JTA, pro-Israel groups Democratic Majority for Israel and the Jewish Democratic Council of America both urged the party to nominate a candidate aligned with their values; Platner had drawn concern from a number of Jewish groups because of his covered-up Nazi tattoo and stance on Israel.
Some of Platner’s former volunteers have said they want his replacement to fit his mold as a progressive and Israel critic who is taking on establishment politics in the effort to unseat GOP Sen. Susan Collins. After Platner dropped out, the Maine Democratic Party announced on Wednesday that to fill the candidate vacancy it will hold a nominating convention made up of about 600 people selected by county-level Democratic committees. The timing of the convention is not yet clear; the deadline for naming a replacement is July 27.
“There is an unprecedented amount of energy and enthusiasm among Maine Democrats, driven in part by many of the dedicated volunteers and supporters who were inspired by Graham Platner’s campaign,” the party said in a statement. “We look forward to coming together and harnessing that energy around our new nominee as we work to defeat Susan Collins in November.”
Here are some of the replacements being mentioned and what they’ve said about Jewish-related issues, Israel and AIPAC. None of the possible nominees responded to JTA’s requests for comment.
Nirav Shah, epidemiologist and healthcare executive
Nirav Shah, who ran for the Democratic gubernatorial nomination in June, finishing second in ranked-choice voting, told reporter David Weigel on Tuesday that he supports an arms embargo on Israel, and he accuses the country of having committing genocide. Shah also said that in keeping with his policy he would not accept funds or an endorsement from AIPAC.
Shah has touted himself as a political outsider like Platner and said Tuesday that he had “no establishment support, and no major political endorsements” when he was running for governor. He has called on possible Platner replacement to participate in a televised debate and “multiple” town halls across the state to make the nomination process transparent.
Troy Jackson, logger and union leader
Troy Jackson, who has backing from the left, had a close political alliance with Platner until calling for him to step aside on Monday and officially launching his campaign for the nomination on Wednesday.
A number of Platner’s supporters have called for the party to nominate Jackson, who finished third behind Shah in the gubernatorial primary. He’s said little publicly related to Israel, but in his run for governor, Jackson had the backing of a number of left-wing, strongly pro-Palestinian politicians, including Vermont Sen. Bernie Sanders and California Rep. Ro Khanna, as well as Maine’s Democratic Socialists of America chapter.
Sanders’ group Our Revolution and left-wing streamer Hasan Piker — a staunch Israel critic who’s drawn accusations of antisemitism — are both backing Jackson to be the new Senate nominee.
In 2024, at the Maine State Democratic Convention, Jackson, who served as convention chairman, reportedly attempted to quiet down a small group of protesters who called for a ceasefire in Gaza and called Maine Rep. Jared Golden a “war criminal” during a video celebrating the Jewish congressman.
“I believe in the ability of people to demonstrate and protest,” Jackson said amid the outburst. “There is a time for that.”
Shenna Bellows, Maine secretary of state
Before assuming her current role, a position that is filled by state lawmakers every two years, Shenna Bellows served as the executive director of the Holocaust and Human Rights Center of Maine.
In May, Bellows spoke at the Jewish-Asian Friendship Dinner, hosted by the Jewish Community Alliance of Southern Maine. Bellows said she began working with the JCA during her time leading the Holocaust museum, and said she’d attended numerous events that discussed “many stories of Holocaust survivors and of genocide around the world, and how important it is that we stand up for all of each other, and for unity, and the love that we have for all of each other.”
Bellows also commended the JCA for its response to the surge of Immigration and Customs Enforcement presence over the winter, which included mutual aid to support people who felt unsafe leaving their homes.
Bellows does not appear to have commented extensively on Israel, although she signed Maine Gov. Janet Mills’ 2023 proclamation recognizing the 75th anniversary of the founding of modern Israel that wished the country “a peaceful and prosperous future.”
Jordan Wood, ex-congressional staffer
A former staffer for former California Rep. Katie Porter, Jordan Wood spoke extensively about his views on Israel and AIPAC in an interview as a Senate candidate in Maine last fall. He was the first Democrat to enter the race for Collins’ Senate seat before being overshadowed by Platner and later suspending his campaign to run for the House.
Wood told Democratic commentator Kaivan Shroff that he would support Sanders’ resolution to restrict offensive weapons sales to Israel but backs the continuation of aid to the Jewish state with conditions.
Wood said he believes Israel has committed war crimes in Gaza, but stopped short of accusing the country of genocide, pointing to a connection between that accusation and a rise in antisemitism.
“I’ve hesitated on it because I’m also seeing a real rise in antisemitism in the United States,” Wood said. “My husband is Jewish, and the acts of violence toward Jewish Americans is very much connected to the language that we use.”
Wood added that it would be “a huge deal for the United States Congress to designate what’s going on in Gaza as a genocide officially.”
“There could be consequences to that of US citizens that have served in the IDF,” he said. “Do they get prosecuted?”
Wood also said he would not take money from AIPAC, and added that there is a “huge amount of distrust” of the lobbying organization among Democratic voters.
“I believe the only way to truly prove to a voter that you are voting and prioritizing policies in their best interest, and for our country’s best interest, is to remove any perception of corruption or misdealing,” Wood said.
Dan Kleban, brewery owner
Dan Kleban, who announced on Wednesday that he is back in the race for Senate after having suspended his campaign in October and endorsing Gov. Janet Mills, who dropped out before the primary after trailing in the polls, has a very different approach from Platner to the U.S.-Israel relationship.
In an interview with CNN on Wednesday, Kleban refrained from accusing Israel of committing genocide, instead calling the military campaign in Gaza an “absolute tragedy.” Kleban said he would condition arms sales to Israel.
When Kleban — a political novice and co-founder and co-owner of the Maine Beer Company — first launched his Senate campaign last fall, he told Politico that he did not support the recent resolution from Sanders to block certain arms sales to Israel.
“I believe Israel has a right to defend itself,” he said. “I don’t think that we solve the horrific humanitarian crisis in Gaza by disarming Israel and exposing them to harm.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post Possible Platner replacements and their divergent stands on Israel appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
For generations of Jews, this cookbook defined the journey from immigration to assimilation
Recipes for the Melting Pot: The Lives of the Settlement Cook Book
By Nora L. Rubel
Columbia University Press, 232 pages, $28
It was an inspiration for bestselling cookbook writer Mark Bittman, a trusted reference for James Beard, the first recipe book owned by New York Times food critic Mimi Sheraton, and the source of the recipes that famed Jewish cookbook writer Joan Nathan grew up with: The Settlement Cook Book, across 40 editions, sold over 2 million copies and defined Jewish American food.
In her book Recipes for the Melting Pot: The Lives of the Settlement Cook Book, Nora L. Rubel traces the book from its birth as a 1901 fundraising pamphlet by Elizabeth “Lizzie” Black Kander, a kosher cooking-class instructor for Milwaukee immigrants, to its life as a hardcover distributed globally by Simon & Schuster into the 1990s.
For many Jewish Americans, the cookbook brings back memories of seder meals and their mother’s brisket. I didn’t grow up with a dog-eared copy of my grandma’s, but that didn’t mean I found the book any less interesting. Rubel, a University of Rochester professor of religion, discovered The Settlement Cook Book in graduate school. In it, she found not just a snapshot of the Jewish American kitchen throughout the 20th century, but also a continuous debate over what counts as American, conducted in the language of potato soup and noodle kugel.
Rubel credits Kander with pioneering “culinary pluralism” at a time when social reformers pushed immigrants to rid themselves of their garlicky and spiced ethnic cuisine in favor of a blander New England “diet of cornmeal mush and pea soup.“ Kander, a Reform Jew, aimed to help recently arrived Eastern European Jews integrate into American society. Unlike Christian reformers, Kander, an ethnic minority herself, envisioned an America where immigrant groups belonged.
The first edition contained kosher recipes for traditional Ashkenazi fare, but the Russian Jewish immigrant women in Kander’s class were also being prepared for domestic work in the Milwaukee homes of wealthier German Jews like Kander who did not keep kosher and had a taste for ethnic cuisine. Thus, the matzo ball recipe appears on the same page as the mulligatawny soup, and filled fish (gefilte fish) sits alongside scalloped oysters.
Rubel argues that, by not placing Jewish or other ethnic dishes in a separate section, the Settlement Cook Book is the among the first to define modern American cuisine through its immigrants. “Kander’s vision of American diversity,” she writes, “suggests that ethnic recipes are on equal footing with each other and traditional ‘American’ recipes, thus framing the United States as a multiethnic society.”
The ethnic mix and straightforward, simple recipes made Kander’s book the most successful of the era’s many charitable cookbooks. It funded the Abraham Lincoln House, which offered programming for impoverished Jews, as well as the Milwaukee Jewish Center, and helped establish Milwaukee’s first nursery school. By mid-century it had expanded from helping Jewish immigrants to funding programs for the broader public.
Kander was blunt that her philanthropy was rooted in what she called a “selfish motive.” The affluent German-Jewish community in Milwaukee feared the newly arrived Orthodox, unassimilated Yiddish-speaking Eastern European Jews might spark American antisemitism, which would threaten their own status. “To protect ourselves, our own reputation in the community,” Rubel quotes Kander, “we must work with tact, with heart and soul to better the home conditions of our people . . . and teach them habits of industry and cleanliness.”
The quote is a reminder that despite the framing of Kander as a multiculturalist, at its heart, The Settlement Cook Book was an assimilationist project. As Rubel notes in her introduction, “liking foodways does not automatically translate into welcoming the people who make it.” A century ago, Americans ate chow mein while backing the Chinese Exclusion Act; many today happily order tacos and arepas, while supporting ICE raids targeting Mexican and Venezuelan immigrants. Still, the book captures a real push-and-pull into what counts as American– with the immigrants being Americanized, inevitably changing what it means to be American. .
Unsurprisingly, many Jewish immigrants didn’t appreciate Kander’s “selfish motive.” While young Jewish women were enthusiastic about the classes, their parents resented the patronizing German-Jewish teachers. Kander’s plan to train domestic workers backfired, the immigrant girls rejected being “neat little housekeepers,” preferring clerical and garment work. Rubel notes that the Jewish women avoided work at the time associated with African Americans. “In a country with a distinct color line,” she wrote, “Jews found their whiteness still in question, tenuous at best.”
In response, Kander pitched the cooking classes as preparation for marriage, as captured in the book’s original title: The Way to a Man’s Heart: The Settlement Cook Book. For decades, the book was a quintessential bridal gift, yet its crowdsourced nature allowed it to evolve with the times.
Wartime editions included canning instructions; the book went dry during Prohibition; and new gadgets and processed foods were introduced to keep up with the post-war kitchen. By the 1970s, however, the nonprofit organization that held the rights to The Settlement Cook Book resisted change, and became a guardian of tradition. The book stubbornly kept old fashioned housekeeping tips like how to remove stains with cod-liver oil and a section entitled “When There Is No Maid.” Only in the last edition, published in 1991, did an editor prevail to have pad Thai, curried lentil and refried beans appear alongside kugel and kreplach, altering the book’s content, but returning to Kander’s multicultural instincts.
Most keenly, Rubel examines the paradox of what makes The Settlement Cook Book so profoundly Jewish, given its massive popularity among gentiles and while it had many Jewish recipes, one would never know from its cover. Simon & Schuster, which took over the book in 1954, further chipped away at any hint of Jewishness in favor of mass appeal.
But as was the case with mid-century Jews assimilating into middle-class America, the cookbook’s Jewishness was not erased; it was merely coded, obvious to anyone looking for it. It’s precisely the cosmopolitan blending of recipes that makes The Settlement Cook Book a truer representation of how Jewish Americans actually ate than a Haddasah cookbook or the popular 1958 Jennie Grossinger’s The Art of Jewish Cooking. “Unlike kosher cookbooks that eschew treyf,” writes Rubel, “it is what this cookbook includes, rather than what it omits, that codes the text as Jewish.”
Ultimately, this coded nature led to the book’s greatest irony. As mid-century Jewish Americans moved to the suburbs, they yearned for the food and customs of the old neighborhood, if not the old country. Once a tool to Americanize Jews, The Settlement Cook Book became the definitive guide for American Jews who wanted to remember how to make matzo brei and gefilte fish. Rubel argues that the book itself became a marker of a Jewish home without explicitly announcing religion or ethnicity.
Though nostalgia kept The Settlement Cook Book alive in its final decades, and has kept it in the Jewish American consciousness, I have no memory of my family ever using it and have zero nostalgia for it. The recipes Rubel reproduces in her book might be of historical interest, but a 1910 chop suey recipe with canned mushrooms and chicken gizzards is decidedly dated today. And yet, reading this book, I felt incredibly seen.
That is because, as early as 1901, Lizzie Black Kander defined part of being Jewish in America as a cosmopolitan embrace of the world. The 1921 edition, for instance, includes a “Chinese Supper” menu as well as a list of Passover Seder recipes, “allowing Jews,” as Rubel puts it, “to have their gefilte fish and eat chop suey too.”
Yet 125 years since Lizzie Kander wrote her recipe pamphlet, it’s clear that, when it comes to building a truly multicultural and tolerant society, enjoying both gefilte fish and chop suey is the easy part.
The post For generations of Jews, this cookbook defined the journey from immigration to assimilation appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
Israelis are experiencing a new kind of international boycott
Israelis are not facing formal sanctions from Western corporations. No international business coalition has announced a boycott. No major bank or airline has openly declared that Israeli customers are unwelcome.
Yet many Israelis are increasingly encountering something quieter and more difficult to define: a new norm of friction and the sense that when systems fail for Israelis, nobody feels much urgency to fix them.
Consider a recent experience I had with the United Kingdom’s NatWest bank.
When NatWest stopped sending authentication texts to Israeli phone numbers in the spring, I assumed it was just a technical error. Banks malfunction. Security systems fail. But then the bank’s mobile app stopped properly recognizing my Israeli number — despite that number having functioned perfectly well beforehand. Customer service representatives offered contradictory explanations. The fallback solution was supposed to be a physical card reader for secure logins. I requested one repeatedly. Nothing arrived for months. Then, in early May, a representative informed me that NatWest apparently was not mailing card readers to Israel, either.
On a visit to London, I went to a branch, where they offered no explanations; they put me on the phone with customer service, where the agent repeated that they were no longer engaging in contact with Israeli phone numbers or addresses, due to “war tensions.” So I emailed every executive I could find to ask, directly, if the bank was boycotting Israel.
After lengthy exchanges, I was told that Israeli access was removed earlier in the year. The bank insisted the restrictions were not political and not specific to Israel, but rather part of broader fraud prevention measures. So I asked which other countries were affected. This, the bank refused to answer.
On its own, this could still be dismissed as another case of corporate opacity mixed with bureaucratic risk aversion. (Eventually, a physical card reader did make its way to me, still with no clear explanation for the delay.) But it was not the first strange interaction I had experienced.
In early 2024, I ordered a novel from Amazon. The book arrived at my home in Tel Aviv damaged and obviously used, despite being sold as new. Customer service initially handled the issue professionally, immediately agreeing to replace the order. Then I provided my address. There was silence.
“I see this address is not on the map,” the representative finally said. “I only see Palestine.” Then the line disconnected.
An alarming interaction, but the representative was expressing a personal political view, not enforcing corporate policy. What proved more revealing was Amazon’s institutional indifference afterward. Despite repeated inquiries to the company’s press office, I never received a clear decrial of the customer service representative’s actions. The issue simply disappeared into a bureaucratic void.
That sorry episode was felicitous in a way: It inspired my first op-ed for the Forward.
Then came British Airways.
After BA canceled flights between Tel Aviv and London in 2025 following a Houthi missile strike near Ben-Gurion Airport, my wife and I scrambled to reconstruct an itinerary at enormous personal expense. Wars disrupt aviation. That part was understandable.
What followed afterward was not. Months passed in a maze of contradictory responses, partial refunds, bureaucratic evasions and compensation offers so absurd that they bordered on parody. Only after I contacted the airline’s press office identifying myself as a journalist did the company suddenly rediscover the ability to communicate. Even then, the process remained exhausting and opaque. We were compensated perhaps a third the value of the ticket lost, with no apology whatsoever.
None of these incidents independently prove anti-Israel discrimination. Banks mistreat customers. Airlines fail passengers. Customer service departments malfunction. Yet together they illustrate a kind of new atmosphere for Israelis.
The most profound sign of that atmosphere has come in academia. As a new report by the Technion documents, what was once an academic boycott of Israel evolved from highly visible protests toward a more diffuse climate of exclusion.
Jewish students in Sweden reported hiding their identities in academic environments. British surveys found that roughly one in five students said they would not want to live with a Jewish roommate. Canadian campus activism increasingly moved from symbolic rhetoric toward operational demands for universities to sever ties with Israeli institutions and withdraw investments.
My friend Bar Harel experienced this personally at Portugal’s University of Coimbra. After complaining about antisemitic graffiti, pro-Hamas and Hezbollah imagery, and slogans such as “No Jews wanted” around campus, Harel became a target. He was threatened online, publicly vilified, physically assaulted near campus and told his family “should burn in a second Holocaust.”
University authorities largely deflected responsibility. Only after he fled Portugal at the advice of Israeli and American diplomats did the state ombudsman finally issue a report that said the university had adopted a “posture of fundamental passivity” in response to his harassment, failing to investigate despite clear evidence.
In business and academia alike, organizations don’t need to announce formal sanctions to change Israeli experience. They simply begin treating Israel operationally troublesome.
Does all this come from antisemitism — or is it a form of quiet protest against Israel’s brutality during the past years’ wars, or the indefensible situation in the West Bank? Does it relate to the current right-wing government — and if so, is it fixable should the moderate opposition return to power?
I do not have definitive answers, and there’s probably a mix of reasons. But it is clear that Israelis are losing the global narrative with astounding speed, and unless this is countered, more formal boycotts are on the way.
The post Israelis are experiencing a new kind of international boycott appeared first on The Forward.

