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The promised land is… Oklahoma? Inside Tulsa’s campaign to court young Jews
TULSA, Okla. — The house had prairie views, four bedrooms and a pantry large enough to support a small diaspora.
More than 50 people wandered through the kitchen inspecting cabinets, opening drawers and video chatting with relatives back home as if they had stumbled upon a newly discovered continent.
They were not, strictly speaking, house hunters. They were Jews.
They had flown to Tulsa, Oklahoma, for the weekend to see whether they could picture a life here, along a stretch of historic Route 66. This is not how most Jewish migration stories begin.
Sunlight spilled across a kitchen island the size of a small boat. In the living room, the ceiling rose two stories high, the kind of architectural flourish meant to make visitors imagine their future lives unfolding beneath it.
Two sisters from Northern California peeked into a walk-in closet, while a family of four from Winnipeg, Canada, stepped into the backyard.
“I have Sylvester Stallone to thank for this,” said a man from Maine, dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt that read “Israel – Established 1273 BCE.” He had been watching the Paramount+ television series Tulsa King, the one where Stallone plays a New York mob boss exiled to Oklahoma to start over. Curious about the setting, he opened Zillow.
The home prices did not make sense. The numbers next to the square footage looked like they were missing a comma, maybe two.
He typed a question into Google.
Are there Jews in Tulsa?
The answer, it turned out, was yes. More surprising still: Tulsa was actively trying to recruit them.
Tulsa is not the tumbleweed town many outsiders imagine, but a leafy, art-deco city stretched along the Arkansas River, where oil money once built skyscrapers and philanthropy now builds parks where families gather at sunset.
In the early 20th century, Tulsa was known as the oil capital of the world, its petroleum boom turning a prairie town into one of the richest cities per capita in America. When oil prices collapsed in the 1980s, the economy faltered.
Like many once-booming cities forced to reinvent themselves, Tulsa rebuilt. Today its economy stretches beyond oil into aerospace, technology and finance, and the city supports a surprising range of cultural institutions, including the Tulsa Ballet, Tulsa Symphony Orchestra and the Philbrook Museum of Art.
Over the past several years, its Jewish leaders have hatched an audacious plan. Instead of watching young Jews drift toward the familiar centers of American Judaism — cities like New York, Los Angeles, Miami and Chicago — they are trying to persuade some of them to move in the opposite direction.
The program is called Tulsa Tomorrow. Since 2017, it has flown groups of young Jews to Oklahoma for long weekends — covering airfare, hotels and meals — and then shows them the city: neighborhoods, synagogues, parks, restaurants, jobs opportunities and the people who live here.
It is, in essence, Birthright for the Sooner State.
So far, 144 people have moved through the program; 113 still live here. In a city with fewer than 3,000 Jews, those numbers matter.
Until recently, Tulsa’s most recognizable Jewish exports were the actor-director Tim Blake Nelson and the professional wrestler simply known as Goldberg. The idea that the city might become known instead for importing Jews is a newer development.
Across the country, dozens of small and mid-size Jewish communities are confronting the problem of young Jews leaving for larger cities, institutions shrinking and congregations aging. Tulsa’s unusual experiment — recruiting Jews instead of losing them — has begun attracting attention from Jewish leaders elsewhere who are wondering whether the model might work in their own towns.
In Kansas City, which already runs its own recruitment effort called See KC, a federation representative attended a Tulsa Tomorrow retreat to see what might translate back home.
Brooke Bowles, the CEO of the Birmingham Jewish Community Center, first heard about Tulsa Tomorrow at a conference last fall. Birmingham’s Jewish population has hovered for years between 5,000 and 6,000 people.
“If you’re not growing,” Bowles said, “you’re dying.”
She spoke with Tulsa Tomorrow’s organizers and plans to attend a recruitment weekend herself to see how the program works up close.
But whether the Tulsa model can work elsewhere may hinge on something harder to replicate. Rabbi Lily Kowalski, who served at Tulsa’s Reform congregation during the early years of the Tulsa Tomorrow project, said its success is in part because it was never managed by any single Jewish institution.
“It really has the buy-in and the backing of the entire Jewish community,” she told me. “If it were just one or two groups trying to make it happen, it wouldn’t be as successful as it is.”
An international destination
The program usually holds two recruitment weekends each year with maybe a dozen participants on each. This particular trip, held at the end of February, was unusually large. Fifty-two participants had come, 41 of them from Canada.
For them, Tulsa represented more than opportunity. It promised potential refuge.
Since the Hamas attacks on Oct. 7, 2023, antisemitic incidents across Canada have surged. Jesse Brown, a Canadian Jewish journalist who has been documenting the trend, said the shift has been dramatic. In recent years, synagogues and Jewish schools have faced arson, vandalism, bomb threats and shootings.
But Brown said the sense of unease extends beyond those headline-grabbing incidents. Across parts of Canadian civil society — in schools, unions, hospitals and arts organizations — Jews have reported growing hostility or exclusion.
Brown describes that broader atmosphere as something closer to what he calls a “polite pogrom,” a slow accumulation of insults that have left many Canadian Jews wondering what the future holds.
“My fear is that the next Bondi Beach massacre is going to take place in Canada,” Brown said, referring to the December 2025 Hanukkah attack in Australia that killed 15 people.
Watching fellow Canadian Jews contemplate leaving the country has unsettled him in its own way. “There’s a sadness,” Brown said. “I’m not enthused or compelled by what I see as a re-shtetling.”
For some Canadians, relocating is no longer a hypothetical.
Michael Sachs, 44, arrived in Tulsa last summer from Vancouver, pulling into town just in time for the Fourth of July.
With salt-and-pepper hair and the easy confidence of a salesman who believes in his product, Sachs has quickly become one of the city’s most enthusiastic ambassadors.
In Canada he built a career in Jewish communal life — working with the Simon Wiesenthal Center and the Jewish National Fund and serving as president of his Orthodox synagogue.
Now Sachs works to recruit new families to Tulsa. “I feel like there’s opportunity everywhere,” he told me, tilting up the brim of his felt cowboy hat.
Part of what pushed his family south was the same set of issues many Canadians on the trip described: antisemitism, soaring housing costs, a sluggish economy and a health care system under strain. But the real difference, Sachs said, has less to do with economics than with possibility.
Tulsa has a population of around 415,000. It’s big enough to matter, but small enough that ideas move quickly. More than once I heard the same sentiment: In Tulsa, you are usually just one phone call away from anyone you need to reach.
Conversations turn into projects. Programs appear where none existed before. The distance between suggestion and action is short.
“There’s a secret sauce here,” Sachs said. “Even I don’t know the recipe. But I’ve tasted it, and I know it exists.”
In larger Jewish cities, Sachs said, communities can feel settled — institutions established, leadership long entrenched. Tulsa still feels different, a place where the future of a Jewish community can be shaped in real time.
Seven months after arriving, Sachs is already putting down roots. His 13-year-old son recently celebrated his bar mitzvah here — a ceremony the family had originally planned to hold back in Vancouver. His wife now teaches at Tulsa’s Jewish elementary school.
Like many cities in the American heartland, Tulsa has long been treated as somewhere people pass over. But increasingly, some Jews are beginning to look down.
The relocation playbook
Tulsa is not the first Jewish community to try this. Every few years, a synagogue or federation decides to solve Jewish demography the way a small town might try to lure a Kia factory: with incentives.
In 2009, a hotel magnate in Dothan, Alabama, offered up to $50,000 to Jewish families willing to relocate to the town’s shrinking Reform congregation. Eleven families came. Seven eventually left.
In 2022, an Orthodox synagogue in White Oak, Pennsylvania — a fading mill town outside Pittsburgh — offered $100,000 to anyone willing to move there. Three families arrived. The program is now paused.
There have been modest successes.
After Hurricane Katrina, the Jewish community of New Orleans offered stipends for moving expenses, discounted day-school tuition and a year of free membership to a synagogue and the JCC. Hundreds took part before the program ended in 2012. About a quarter stayed.
Tulsa took a different tactic.
Tulsa Tomorrow is the brainchild of local businessman David Finer, who started the program along with a few of his friends. Instead of paying people to move, the community invites them to visit and rolls out the red carpet. What Tulsa lacked, he believed, wasn’t Jewish life. It was awareness.
“Tulsa is a hidden gem,” Finer, 69, told me one morning over breakfast at Chimera Cafe in the Tulsa Arts District, a block away from museums dedicated to Woody Guthrie and Bob Dylan. “When people come here, they’re shocked at how nice it is.”
Tulsa also has something working in its favor that many places its size do not. “It is, per capita, one of the most philanthropic cities in the country,” said Rebekah Kantor-Wunsch, Tulsa Tomorrow’s executive director and its sole employee.
The city is home to several major Jewish foundations — including the Schusterman Family Philanthropies, the Zarrow Family Foundation and the George Kaiser Family Foundation — all of which have helped shape large parts of Tulsa’s civic life through their giving. Kaiser, a lifelong Tulsan whose parents fled Nazi Germany, was the main donor to the Gathering Place, a 66-acre park along the Arkansas River that opened in 2018 — a lush stretch of tree-lined lawns, playgrounds and winding paths. It cost $465 million to build; Kaiser gave $350 million of that, the largest private gift to a public park in the United States.
Some participants discover another local incentive while they’re visiting. Tulsa Remote, also funded primarily by the Kaiser foundation, offers remote workers $10,000, a local business mentor and three years of free coworking space if they relocate to the city.
More than 4,000 people have taken that offer. Most have stayed.
The city’s philanthropic culture explains why Tulsa’s Jewish community is punching far above its weight, said Rabbi Yehuda Weg, the local Chabad rabbi. “Tulsa,” he said, “is money looking for a problem.”
The cousin theory
Just how broad that community backing runs became visible inside the downtown Bank of Oklahoma Center, a 19,000-seat arena where the Tulsa Oilers minor-league hockey team was hosting its first-ever Jewish Heritage Night.
The players wore special edition blue-and-white jerseys with a large Star of David across the chest. Fans could buy them, too. A few had already made their way to people in the stands, including Rabbi Daniel Kaiman, who had pulled one over his shirt.
From the bleachers, he watched the players circle the ice.
Kaiman, 41, moved to Tulsa in 2013 from Los Angeles and leads Congregation B’nai Emunah. It was founded in 1916 as Orthodox and is now denominationally ambiguous. (Squint long enough and it looks Conservative-adjacent.) Today it has about 520 member households, making it the largest synagogue in Oklahoma.
“No one moves to Tulsa for the weather,” Kaiman said loudly, over the roar of the crowd, referring to the humid summers and occasional tornado. “No one moves to Tulsa for the scenery. You move to Tulsa for the opportunity.”
Unlike places like Dothan or White Oak — towns that once boomed and then hollowed out — Tulsa is still growing. “It’s easier to build a life here,” Kaiman said.
The synagogue he leads occupies an entire city block and operates like a small ecosystem.
There is a preschool. A five-day-a-week after-school program picks children up from public schools and keeps them until early evening, offering Hebrew, piano and tumbling classes. About half the students are not Jewish.
Then there are the projects that extend beyond the synagogue’s traditional role: a bakery that employs people recovering from mental illness, a pop-up Jewish deli that raises money for social programs, and a refugee resettlement program run in partnership with HIAS.
The synagogue also houses a mikvah. Jews from across the region — sometimes driving for hours from Arkansas, Kansas and Missouri — come to use it.
Kaiman likes to explain the community this way. “Imagine you move somewhere and you have a cousin there,” he said. “We’re the cousin.”
Sitting beside him in the bleachers was Rabbi Batsheva Appel, the interim rabbi of Tulsa’s Reform congregation, Temple Israel. She arrived last summer from Boise, Idaho.
Temple Israel, founded in 1914, has about 300 member households and is currently rebuilding its synagogue campus after tearing down its longtime building. Groundbreaking on a new structure is set for the weekend after Passover.
In the meantime, her congregation meets elsewhere. Friday night services take place in the federation auditorium or sometimes in the lobby of the Jewish museum beneath a Tiffany stained-glass window depicting the binding of Isaac. Religious classes meet at the Jewish day school.
It is, in other words, a congregation temporarily without a building but not without momentum.
Appel said she had seen programs like Tulsa Tomorrow proposed before in other cities. “Frequently this kind of idea would come up, and then nothing ever happened,” she said. “So to see it come to fruition and to see how effective it has been is pretty amazing.”
On the ice below them, the Oilers scored a goal.
Kaiman watched for a moment, then returned to a metaphor he often uses to describe Jewish life in the city. Tulsa, he said, is like a whetstone (the stone used to sharpen a knife).
“The Jew is the knife,” he said. “And Tulsa sharpens you.”
Orthodox limits
When the first period of the hockey game ended, people drifted toward the arena’s concourse, where the smell of popcorn hung in the air.
Near one of the entrances, Weg, the Tulsa Chabad rabbi, and his wife, Etel, sat behind a folding table covered with Purim flyers and a tray of hamantaschen. The holiday was two days away.
They handed the triangular pastries to anyone who slowed down long enough to take one — including a few confused spectators who seemed unsure why a rabbi had materialized next to the nacho stand.
Weg, 65, wore a suit and tie and a black kippah perched on his head. With his long white beard and easy smile, he looked like a slimmer Santa Claus.
Weg arrived in Tulsa in 1987 as a young Chabad emissary. Today, three of his children serve as Chabad rabbis in communities of their own across America.
The Tulsa Tomorrow program, he said, makes sense for many Jews considering a move. “It allows people to see the Jewish landscape and the Jewish possibilities of Tulsa,” he said.
But he was careful not to oversell it. For Orthodox families, the infrastructure still has limits. Jewish schooling in Tulsa only runs through elementary grades, and keeping kosher requires some improvisation.
“You can get chicken, you can get meat — not every cut of meat, but quite a few,” he said, extolling the virtues of the local Trader Joe’s. “Enough to live on.”
Still, Weg argued that Tulsa offers something many larger Jewish communities do not: the feeling that every person counts, and is counted on. “In Atlanta or Dallas, you can get lost,” he said. “Here, everybody is engaged.”
He gestured toward the concourse to take in the totality of the moment, with hockey fans passing beneath Jewish banners while a rabbi handed out Purim cookies. Scenes like this, he suggested, capture something about the city. In Tulsa, Jewish life may be smaller. But it is hard to miss.
‘A Bell Labs for Jewish life’
The recruitment weekend eventually shifted from hockey arenas and real estate tours to what may be the most important piece of Tulsa’s Jewish infrastructure: the Zarrow Jewish Community Campus.
It’s vast, at 15 acres and 77,000 square feet.
The campus is deliberately multigenerational, and nearly every major Jewish institution in the city lives here — including the Jewish Community Center, the federation offices, the Mizel Jewish Community Day School, the Sherwin Miller Museum of Jewish Art and Zarrow Pointe, a senior living complex with more than 400 residents.
Among them is the 90-year-old grandmother of Isabella Silberg, 28, a Tulsa native who now serves as the federation’s director of development. Between the preschool and the retirement community, Silberg said, “this campus caters from baby to bubbe.”
Her fiancé, Shane Ross, 29, first visited on a Tulsa Tomorrow recruitment trip in 2023. He has since moved to town.
Walk through the midtown campus and something becomes clear almost immediately: The people running the place are young. The federation board chair is in his 30s. The museum curator is in her early 30s. The development director, public affairs director and several federation staff members are all under 35.
“I’m the old guy around here at 41,” joked Joe Roberts, who runs Jewish Tulsa, the umbrella organization overseeing the city’s federation, JCC and Jewish museum.
Roberts looks less like an executive than someone you might expect to find behind the bar at a downtown brewery — bald, thick beard, jeans and a tight black T-shirt stamped with the words Zionist Weightlifting Club, a brand he started himself.
He works out every day in the gym inside the JCC. “Our claim to fame,” he said, “is that we’re the cleanest gym in Tulsa.”
Roberts was born in Dayton, Ohio, and spent a decade in politics — even running for Congress at 26 — before pivoting into Jewish communal work. He worked at federations in Boston, Los Angeles and Columbus, did pro-Israel advocacy in Washington, D.C., and later ran a federation in Ontario.
Then Oct. 7 changed his trajectory. At the time, Roberts was living near Toronto, working as a public-affairs consultant and writing columns about antisemitism and Israel. The threats that followed, he said, forced him and his wife to reconsider where they wanted to raise their two young sons.
Around that time he heard about Tulsa Tomorrow. He came out of curiosity. Instead, he left with a job. Roberts now sees Tulsa as something larger than a recruitment program. “I want us to be a Bell Labs for Jewish life,” he said.
The stakes extend far beyond Oklahoma. “If we want a national Jewish future,” Roberts said, “we need a national Jewish present.”
‘A big fish’
Marisol Karcs, her curly dark hair clipped back, ambled through the campus with the quiet curiosity of someone who spends her days studying language and stories.
Karcs, 28, is finishing a creative writing MFA at Iowa State University. She had traveled to Tulsa with her younger sister Morgan, 25, who works in climate policy for a local government in California.
They had come to help Marisol think about her future. Her fiancée grew up Jewish in Tulsa. Now the couple is trying to decide whether to build a life here.
Karcs moves easily through corners of Jewish culture that would seem to rarely intersect with Oklahoma. She has studied Yiddish, attended the klezmer festival KlezKanada, taken language courses at the Yiddish Book Center and spent time around the YIVO Institute for Jewish Research.
Her dream, she told me, might be to start a Tulsa Yiddish club — which, as far as she knew, did not yet exist.
In a large city, she said, that might be one niche among many. Here, it might actually matter.
“You’re a big fish in a small pond,” she said, the kind of place where a single idea can ripple through an entire community. “Everyone knows each other. People take care of each other. You don’t really leave people behind.”
In a place this size, she said, one person can build what the community becomes.
Places like Austin and Nashville were once like this — smaller cities where young people arrived early and helped shape what came next. Tulsa, she said, still feels like that kind of place.
Karcs paused outside the Jewish art museum, which also houses a Holocaust education center. Oklahoma now requires Holocaust education in public schools beginning in middle school, making the museum a regular destination for student field trips.
Standing in the quiet gallery, it was easy to see the argument Tulsa’s Jewish leaders were making.
For someone like Karcs, that kind of density carries a particular appeal. If her sister moves here, Morgan said, she would likely follow. Their parents might not be far behind.
“We’re a really tight-knit family,” Morgan said.
For now, the decision remains open. Karcs and her fiancée are weighing graduate school offers and thinking about what it would mean to build a queer Jewish life in a politically conservative state.
But Tulsa, she said, has surprised her.
“There are vibrant communities here that you wouldn’t expect when you hear ‘Oklahoma.’”
A new generation
Across town, another Jewish gathering was underway. This one involved a crime.
Sort of.
Several dozen young Jewish Tulsans, mostly in their 20s and 30s, had gathered in a hotel ballroom for a Shabbat dinner that doubled as a Purim-themed murder mystery.
The room looked like a costume party collided with a synagogue social hall, with a script that required both alibis and blessings. An astronaut mingled with a Renaissance noble. Kentucky Derby socialites in elaborate wide-brimmed hats chatted with a 1960s hippie. At least one gnome wandered through the crowd. Between courses, guests interrogated suspects in the whodunit plot while shaking groggers.
Among the participants was Jacob Parra, the federation’s director of public affairs, wearing denim farmer overalls and holding a red plastic cup.
Parra, 25, spends his days meeting with lawmakers, city leaders and policymakers on issues affecting Tulsa’s Jewish community. Before joining the federation, he worked on dozens of political campaigns.
“I think it speaks to the energy of the community,” Parra told me. “Many cities say they want to hear from younger people. But when push comes to shove, they’re not getting seats on boards.”
The jaunty Shabbat gathering teased the promise of community Rayna Franco, 38, had hoped Tulsa might deliver.
Franco, an advertising professional from Manhattan with long dark hair and tortoise cat-eye glasses, had arrived with three single friends — another New Yorker, one from Cleveland and a digital nomad currently working from Mexico City.
They moved through the weekend together, the four of them conversing in the easy shorthand of women who had spent years navigating big cities.
They represented a different slice of the cohort than many of the couples and young families touring houses: urban and unattached. Moving to Tulsa would mean leaving behind the dense web of family, friends and institutions that make Jewish life in places like New York feel almost automatic.
But what struck Franco about Tulsa’s Jewish community was the opposite dynamic. “In New York, you’re the norm,” she said. “There are Jews everywhere.”
In Tulsa, she noticed something different. “The people here opt to actively create opportunities for community,” she said.
She compared it to expat culture. When Americans live abroad, she explained, they tend to seek one another out. They form tight circles precisely because they are far from home.
Being Jewish in Tulsa, she said, felt similar.
“In New York City, it’s easy to not give living Jewishly a second thought,” she said. “But the effort that the Jewish Tulsans are putting in is purposeful, visible and admirable.”
‘Tulsa is a refuge’
The room filled quickly. Name tags appeared. Business cards began changing hands. Tulsa’s Jewish future, at least for the next two hours, was being negotiated over coffee and folding chairs.
Around a dozen local professionals had gathered at a downtown coworking space to make their case for life, and work, in Tulsa: a recruiter with open jobs, a real estate developer, a startup founder building AI companies, a banker ready to help newcomers open accounts and a tax consultant who specializes in helping Canadians move their businesses to the United States.
The message was simple: If the participants decided to relocate, Tulsa already had a path waiting.
“You’re not going to get routed through some random call center,” said Jared Goldfarb, a local banker whose Jewish family has lived in Tulsa for generations. “You can text me anytime.”
Then the mayor of Tulsa walked in.
Monroe Nichols, 42, is the first Black mayor in the city’s history, a milestone that carries particular weight here. Tulsa still lives in the shadow of the 1921 massacre that destroyed the prosperous Black neighborhood known as Greenwood, once called Black Wall Street.
Nichols arrived in a blue blazer, Oxford shirt and jeans. A former state representative, he greeted participants like a host welcoming guests into his home.
“We are so excited to have you in this community,” he told the group. “More excited when you move to this community.”
Then he made a point that seemed to resonate deeply with the crowd. “As a Black man in America,” Nichols said, “I can identify with some of the hate that you all have felt.”
For several of the Canadians in the room, the moment felt striking. Since the Hamas attacks of Oct. 7, 2023, some told me they had watched their own political leaders respond to antisemitic incidents with little more than statements of “thoughts and prayers.”
Here was a mayor doing something different: telling them plainly that he wanted them in his city.
“If you’re looking for a place where you can contribute,” Nichols said, “you’ve found that place.”
Then he used a word that carried particular weight in a room full of Jews — especially Jews who had traveled here because they were no longer sure where they belonged.
“Tulsa,” he said, “is a refuge.”
Afterward he lingered to shake hands, pose for photos and continue the conversation. For many in the Tulsa Tomorrow cohort, it was the kind of public welcome they had not heard from their own elected officials in years.
The next move
Participants on this Tulsa Tomorrow trip had created a WhatsApp group to introduce themselves before traveling. After the weekend ended, the chat continued with photos from the retreat and messages about what might come next.
Then the tone shifted.
Within a week of the trip to Tulsa, Toronto saw shootings at three synagogues. No one was injured, but the attacks — yet again — rattled Canada’s Jewish community.
One of the Canadians dropped a news link into the group chat. Another reminder, the message read, of what Jews are facing in cities across Canada. It was a reminder of why the question of where Jewish life takes place, and how it is sustained, feels newly urgent.
Tulsa, for some, had begun to feel like more than a curiosity. It suggested the possibility of building Jewish life somewhere that still felt open — a place where a community might be shaped, rather than simply inherited.
Some cities feel finished — their skylines built, their hierarchies set, their patterns long established. Tulsa still feels like a city becoming something. That sense of possibility is the wager at the heart of Tulsa Tomorrow.
A few weeks after the trip, the group chat was still active. People shared house listings. Compared notes. Asked practical questions about schools, jobs, synagogues.
The question was no longer whether there were Jews in Tulsa.
It was whether they might soon be among them.
The post The promised land is… Oklahoma? Inside Tulsa’s campaign to court young Jews appeared first on The Forward.
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Jewish groups plan to protest Ben-Gvir’s arrival in NYC. Will he show?
(New York Jewish Week) — Jewish groups are readying for the arrival of Israeli far-right Minister of National Security Itamar Ben-Gvir in New York City next week.
Several progressive Jewish organizations have planned a protest at a plaza outside the United Nations, where Israeli media reported that the minister would be attending a conference on policing. Meanwhile, other left-wing groups have planned their own demonstrations and circulated an open letter with thousands of signatures calling for State Attorney General Letitia James to prosecute Ben-Gvir for war crimes upon his arrival.
But it’s unclear whether Ben-Gvir is coming at all.
“To our knowledge, Minister Ben-Gvir is not coming to New York at the moment,” a staffer for the Consulate General of Israel in New York wrote the Jewish Telegraphic Agency in an email on Thursday.
Separately, a UN official confirmed to JTA on Thursday that Ben-Gvir was not yet registered for the UN Chiefs of Police Summit, which brings together ministers and law enforcement leaders from around the world. The conference is taking place on July 7 and 8, though it is still possible for him to register in the coming days.
Ben-Gvir, a highly controversial figure in Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s Cabinet, is the leader of the country’s far-right “Otzma Yehudit,” or “Jewish Power” party. Before he entered the Knesset he was convicted of supporting a terrorist group and other offenses, and since taking office he has advocated for policies such as renewed Jewish settlement in Gaza and has been sanctioned for allegedly “inciting extremist violence” against Palestinians in the West Bank.
Liberal Jewish groups have come out in vocal opposition to the idea of him setting foot in the Big Apple following Haaretz’s initial reporting that Ben-Gvir was coming.
“It’s really important for people, both American Jews and Israelis, to say that extremists like Ben-Gvir aren’t accepted in our community,” Rabbi Jill Jacobs, head of the progressive rabbinic human rights group T’ruah, told JTA in an interview. “He just doesn’t belong in New York, or in the Israeli government, or espousing his views anywhere in Jewish society,”
T’ruah is co-organizing a protest outside the UN’s summit on Tuesday, along with close to a dozen other liberal Jewish groups. Among them are New York Jewish Agenda, J Street, Israelis for Peace and the Union for Reform Judaism.
Jacobs said she believes the demonstration will be particularly impactful because it’s coming from “people who are not looking to destroy the state, who are not anti-Israel in any way,” but who envision a “place of both Israelis and Palestinians being safe.”
Another planned protest scheduled just hours later at the same plaza is being led by left-wing groups more sharply critical of Israel. Anti-Zionist group Jewish Voice for Peace is among the organizations promoting it. Their open letter calling on James to prosecute Ben-Gvir has more than 6,500 signatures.
The last time Ben-Gvir visited New York City, just over a year ago, his presence drew a series of heated protests and counter-protests. A few of them took place in Crown Heights, the neighborhood where he visited 770 Eastern Parkway, the headquarters of the Chabad Hasidic movement.
He also made pit stops at another Chabad institution and the gravesite of the movement’s late leader, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, as well as at a Midwood kosher restaurant, where he drew a friendlier crowd. A number of other planned events during that trip were canceled the week before.
The same coalition of liberal Jewish groups held a rally last year outside a Wall Street restaurant where Ben-Gvir was speaking. New York Rep. Jerry Nadler introduced legislation during that rally aimed at combating settler violence in the West Bank.
Margo Hughes-Robinson, who’s now the executive director of NYJA, co-emceed last year’s demonstration. She said in an interview on Thursday that she hopes that elected officials attend this year’s and make clear that “what he represents, and his worldview, is anathema to our Jewish values, it’s anathema to the vision of Israel that we support.”
Ben-Gvir was slated to make another trip to the U.S. more recently for a wedding, though he ended up canceling the trip after he was asked to provide his fingerprints in order to obtain a visa.
Unlike during Ben-Gvir’s last visit, New York’s mayor is now an anti-Zionist who has vowed to arrest Netanyahu if he steps foot in Israel due to his outstanding International Criminal Court arrest warrant, even though the US is not a party to the ICC. (There is no reported ICC arrest warrant for Ben-Gvir.) Following the election of Zohran Mamdani, Ben-Gvir described the result as “a moment when antisemitism triumphed over common sense.”
Mamdani’s spokesperson did not respond to a request for comment.
A number of local officials spoke out following the most recent appearance of a far-right Israeli minister in New York, condemning finance minister Bezalel Smotrich, who attended the Israel Day parade. None have weighed in so far on Ben-Gvir’s possible return next week.
The post Jewish groups plan to protest Ben-Gvir’s arrival in NYC. Will he show? appeared first on The Forward.
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Races to watch: As staunch Israel critics notch wins, these candidates could be next
(JTA) — A wave of left-wing candidates with sharply critical Israel stances have won their Democratic primary this year and are set to head to Congress. Who else of like mind could join them in the coming months?
Several candidates who fit the bill have benefited from the endorsement and vast volunteer infrastructure of the Democratic Socialists of America. Others are simply meeting the moment for the growing number of Democratic voters who think the U.S. government is too supportive of Israel. Meanwhile, some Jewish groups and other critics have been concerned that their campaign rhetoric in this election cycle has at times veered into antisemitism.
Last week’s New York City results showed the power of Mayor Zohran Mamdani’s endorsement and alarmed some Jewish leaders who watched as two pro-Israel incumbents lost their seat. Some onlookers questioned whether those victories could be replicated in other parts of the country, but Melat Kiros’ decisive win in Tuesday’s Colorado Democratic congressional primary for a district representing Denver answered the question with a resounding yes.
With just over two months left in the primaries, here are the upcoming races featuring left-wing insurgents whose results may hinge, at least in part, on sentiment toward Israel, Zionism and the American Israel Public Affairs Committee lobbying group.
Arizona: 4th Congressional District (July 21)
Democratic Rep. Greg Stanton is facing a primary challenge from activist Kai Newkirk in Arizona’s 4th District, which covers parts of Phoenix and Maricopa County.
Stanton, who took office in 2018, is pro-Israel and has picked up the endorsement of AIPAC — support that Newkirk, whose activism has largely focused on campaign-finance reform, has blasted.
Newkirk’s platform includes imposing a complete arms embargo on Israel and ending all military subsidies to the Jewish state, which he accuses of committing genocide. He identifies as a democratic socialist (though he’s not endorsed by the DSA), and is backed by a number of progressive organizations, including Vermont Sen. Bernie Sanders’ group Our Revolution and Track AIPAC.
“Kai is Israel Free and has fought to get money out of politics his whole life,” wrote Cenk Uygur, the host of the Young Turks, who has spread conspiracy theories about Israel.
Newkirk spoke out against last year’s killing of two Israeli Embassy staffers outside the Capital Jewish Museum in Washington, D.C. “I stand always with my beloved Jewish siblings against the scourge of antisemitism just as I will never stop in the nonviolent struggle to end the genocide in Gaza, release all hostages, and open the way to just, lasting peace,” he wrote.
Missouri: 1st Congressional District (Aug. 4)
Former Missouri Rep. Cori Bush is running for Congress in St. Louis again, two years after AIPAC’s super PAC poured millions into her race to oust the former “Squad” member from the House. Bush, who was first elected to Congress in 2020, will now take on Wesley Bell for the second time in the Democratic primary.
Bush, who supports the movement to boycott Israel, has alarmed a number of Jewish leaders in St. Louis over her positions on Israel.
She has expressed reluctance about calling Hamas a terrorist group, saying in a 2024 interview that racial justice protesters in Ferguson were also called terrorists. Bush was one of two members of Congress to vote against a measure to deny entry into the United States to Hamas terrorists who perpetrated the Oct. 7 massacre.
Her opponent, Bell, a supporter of the U.S.-Israel relationship, has the backing of a number of Jewish and pro-Israel groups, including AIPAC, the Democratic Majority for Israel (DMFI) and the Jewish Democratic Council of America, as well as the Congressional Black Caucus.
Bush, meanwhile, has been endorsed by Vermont Sen. Bernie Sanders, former New York Rep. Jamaal Bowman — who was ousted the same year as Bush in a race with heavy spending by AIPAC — St. Louis’ DSA chapter and the anti-Zionist group Jewish Voice for Peace.
Missouri: 4th Congressional District (Aug. 4)
Tenant organizer and radio host Hartzell Gray is running with the DSA’s backing in a Democratic primary in hopes of supplanting AIPAC-backed GOP congressman Mark Alford in the November general election in a solidly Republican district that includes some of Kansas City and its suburbs.
During a recent interview with Hasan Piker, Gray said that American elected officials, including Alford, are “catering to Israel, not to our folks here at home,” and broke down his views on the issue that he called “very much at the core of who I am.”
“I’m very honest. Listen, Israel’s apartheid ethnostate has been committing genocide to Palestinian people since before the Nakba,” Gray said. “They’re committing ethnic cleansing in Lebanon as we speak. We should be ending all ties — all diplomatic ties — with Israel.”
Gray had raised close to $170,000 as of March 31, according to FEC filings, by far the most of the seven Democrats in the running (none of whom are elected officials).
Michigan: U.S. Senate (Aug. 4)
The race for an open U.S. Senate seat between former county health executive Dr. Abdul El-Sayed, Rep. Haley Stevens and the trailing State Sen. Mallory McMorrow has been one of the country’s most closely watched primaries, with Israel and AIPAC at its center.
A physician and former public health official, El-Sayed, who led Stevens by 5 percentage points in the latest poll, has made Medicare for all a core plank of his campaign.
He is also a staunchly pro-Palestinian candidate who’s campaigned alongside fellow hardline Israel critic Hasan Piker. A number of major left-wing figures are backing El-Sayed, including Sanders and a handful of Congress’ most outspoken pro-Palestinian members, such as Michigan Rep. Rashida Tlaib and California Rep. Ro Khanna. New York Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez added her endorsement on Thursday.
AIPAC’s super PAC, United Democracy Project, has spent more than $2 million on ads boosting Stevens, who describes herself as a “proud pro-Israel Democrat.”
In a recent interview with Semafor, El-Sayed called Stevens “a suit with a large AIPAC bank account,” adding that he hopes AIPAC finds “some way to teach her how to string together two coherent sentences.”
Following the attempted attack on Temple Israel in West Bloomfield, Michigan, earlier this year, El-Sayed drew criticism from some Jewish leaders — including the synagogue’s rabbi — for releasing lengthy remarks that discussed Israel’s war in Lebanon, after initially condemning antisemitism in a statement.
Michigan: 13th Congressional District (Aug. 4)
State Rep. Donavan McKinney could be the next to join the wave of DSA-backed insurgents heading to Congress. He has the backing of major democratic socialists Sanders and Tlaib, as well as Metro Detroit DSA.
Unlike many DSA congressional candidates, McKinney has not made Israel or Gaza a primary focus of his campaign. On his campaign website, AIPAC is not mentioned by name in the section on “getting big money out of politics,” and Israel is not cited in the foreign policy section.
PAL PAC, an anti-AIPAC pro-Palestinian organization, endorsed McKinney. He thanked the group and said that his policies “reflect the growing majority of Americans who want to end US tax funding of weapons to Israel to destroy Palestinian communities, and instead invest resources back into American working families.”
Rep. Shri Thanedar, the incumbent looking to stave off McKinney, is backed by pro-Israel groups AIPAC and DMFl, and has supported military aid to Israel since joining Congress in 2023.
AIPAC mobilized against Thanedar when he ran in 2022 because of legislation he once co-sponsored in the Michigan House that described Israel as an “apartheid state” and urged Congress to end U.S. aid to Israel. Thanedar later walked back his legislation, telling Jewish Insider that it had been an “emotional reaction” to the 2021 conflict between Israel and Hamas in Gaza and that he would support Israel in Congress.
Michigan: 7th Congressional District (Aug. 4)
A Democratic primary between three major candidates is unfolding in a swing district in Michigan, with its winner hoping to unseat Republican Rep. Tom Barrett in November.
William Lawrence, 35, is occupying the race’s left lane, with endorsements from Sanders, Khanna and Tlaib. He co-founded Sunrise Movement, a climate advocacy organization, in 2015. (The group, which he left in 2020, has since become increasingly vocal in advocating for Palestinians.)
Lawrence is facing off against retired Navy SEAL Matt Maasdam and former U.S. Ambassador to Ukraine Bridget Brink, who’s said she resigned because Trump “kept siding” with Russian President Vladimir Putin over Ukraine.
At a candidates’ forum in June, Lawrence was the only participant to refer to Israel’s military campaign in Gaza as genocide. Lawrence opposes weapons sales and American military aid to Israel. Though not endorsed by the DSA, Lawrence is a member of the left-wing group.
Wisconsin: Governor (Aug. 11)
In the crowded Democratic primary for Wisconsin’s open gubernatorial seat — a seat that is seen as winnable by either party in November — state Rep. Francesca Hong has established herself as the left-wing candidate, with backing from two DSA chapters in the state.
She introduced statewide legislation earlier this year that would repeal a 2018 law banning state contracts with businesses that boycott Israel. In March, Hong criticized outgoing Gov. Tom Evers after he signed into law the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance’s definition of antisemitism. Progressives have criticized the definition for characterizing some criticism of Israel as antisemitism. Hong wrote that adopting it “will compromise free speech across the state and academic freedom at our universities.”
She recently appeared on both Hasan Piker’s show and on the stream hosted by Michael Beyer, an influencer known as “Mike from PA” who came under fire after saying that Jewish identity is “a constructed ethnicity, this demonic ethnicity, wholly invented.”
“If Wisconsin is going to be a state that actually values human rights, then we have to ensure that we’re supporting, we’re fighting for the pro-Palestine movement,” Hong said on Beyer’s show.
The race’s most recent polling, conducted in March, had Hong leading with 14% of votes ahead of former Lt. Gov. Mandela Barnes, at 11%. Sixty-five percent of voters were undecided.
Florida: 25th Congressional District (Aug. 18)
Oliver Larkin, a 34-year-old democratic socialist, has made an effort to compare himself to Zohran Mamdani.
Larkin is up against the staunchly pro-Israel, AIPAC-backed Rep. Jared Moskowitz in the district that includes Fort Lauderdale and Boca Raton. Larkin is being backed by DSA and advocates for the suspension of U.S. military aid to Israel, which he accuses of committing genocide. His platform also includes the right of return for Palestinian refugees.
Now, some of the energy generated by the Mamdani-backed candidates’ success in New York appears to be lifting Larkin’s candidacy: His campaign reportedly raised $115,000 in the week after the New York primaries.
In an appearance on Piker’s show, Larkin differentiated his policies on Israel from those of Florida gubernatorial candidate James Fishback, the anti-Israel, fringe GOP candidate who has courted the online far right.
“The key difference is that when we talk about banning U.S. military aid to Israel, banning U.S. colleges and government from investing in Israel bonds, we’re talking about universal economic benefits,” Larkin said, meaning those tax dollars would go toward domestic programs for all.
November’s general election for the recently redistricted seat is seen as a toss-up. Should Larkin win the primary, his candidacy could serve as a test of how left-wing candidates fare in swing seats as opposed to moderate Democrats.
A recent poll showed Moskowitz with a 32-point lead; 72% of voters were unfamiliar or had no opinion of Larkin.
Massachusetts: 4th Congressional District (Sept. 1)
Rep. Jake Auchincloss, another staunchly pro-Israel Democrat, is facing a primary challenge from AI and policy researcher Jason Poulos.
Poulos’ platform calls to end U.S. support for Israel by signing onto legislation like the Block the Bombs Act and Tlaib’s bill stating that Israel is committing genocide. He also calls for AIPAC and DMFI to register as foreign lobbying groups.
Poulos told the Newton Beacon that Israel was an animating force in his entrance into politics.
“What really was radicalizing for me was watching the United States send tens of billions of dollars in military arms to Israel and watch them participate actively in the genocide of the Palestinian people,” Poulos said. He also said that he sided with the campus pro-Palestinian encampments in 2024 and their aim of lobbying the schools to divest from Israel.
Poulos has slammed Auchincloss for his endorsement from AIPAC. At a recent town hall, Auchincloss said it “concerns” him that there are numerous lobbying groups influencing politics, but only “one group of people get pummeled above all others.”
The next day, Poulos called Auchincloss “comically out-of-touch.”
“The reason why AIPAC is singled out is because it has already poured nearly $50m into congressional races nationwide, is bankrolled by MAGA mega-donors, and is in lockstep with the foreign policy interests of a foreign gov’t,” he wrote.
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