Uncategorized
‘There was no time to sleep’: 4 Jews reflect on a year of helping Ukrainians at war
(JTA) — In the months after Russian tanks rolled into her country last February, the music largely stopped for Elizaveta Sherstuk.
The founder of a Jewish choral ensemble called Aviv in her hometown of Sumy, in the northeastern flank of Ukraine, Sherstuk had to put singing aside in favor of her day job and personal mission: delivering aid to Jews in Sumy.
“There was no time to sleep,” Sherstuk recalled to the Jewish Telegraphic Agency recently. “All my team members worked the same, 24/7.”
A year later, Sherstuk is still hustling as the Sumy director of Hesed, a network of welfare centers serving needy Jews in the former Soviet bloc. But she has also begun teaching music classes again, too — with performances sometimes held in bomb shelters.
Catch up on all of JTA’s Ukraine war coverage from the last year here.
Sherstuk’s story reflects the ways that Russia’s war on Ukraine has affected Jews in Ukraine and beyond. The conflict has killed hundreds of thousands, left even more in peril and fundamentally altered the landscape and population of Ukraine, forcing millions to flee as refugees.
But the war has also mobilized the networks of Jewish aid and welfare groups across Europe, leading to a Jewish organizational response on a massive scale not seen in decades. And Ukrainian Jews who have remained in the country have recalibrated their lives and communities for wartime.
Here are four stories about Jews who stepped in and stepped up to help, and a taste of the on-the-ground situations they found themselves in.
‘I was needed there’
Enrique Ginzburg, second from right, is shown with Ukrainian doctors in Lviv. (Courtesy of Ginzburg)
Since nearly drowning at 23, Dr. Enrique Ginzburg has felt he “had to pay back” for the extra years of life he was granted.
Now 65, the professor of surgery at the University of Miami’s Miller School of Medicine and its trauma division has lent his critical care expertise in Haiti, Argentina, Kurdistan and Iraq, in various emergency situations. But until last year, he had never been to a war zone.
The Cuba native felt drawn to Ukraine because his grandfather is from Kyiv, while his grandmother is from nearby eastern Poland. So early on in the conflict, he called Dr. Aaron Epstein, an old friend and the founder of the nonprofit Global Surgical and Medical Supply Group.
“Get yourself a flak jacket, a helmet, a gas mask and come on over,” Ginzburg said Epstein told him.
He has been to Ukraine twice under the nonprofit’s auspices, last April and July. Ginzburg’s explanation for why he flew across the world to put himself in danger: “I was needed,” he said.
His base was an emergency hospital in Lviv, a city located west enough that it became a major refugee hub. He consulted with front-line Ukrainian physicians, many of them young and inexperienced, and hospital administrators, watching the doctors in action. He also visited patients in hospital wards and helped to treat gunshot wounds and assorted combat injuries.
Ginzburg’s bags were packed with meaningful supplies. Some had been requested by his Ukrainian colleagues for medical use, mostly specialized catheters. But he also brought tefillin, the phylacteries used by Jews in their morning prayers. Ginzburg, who studied in a yeshiva while young but no longer considers himself Orthodox, wrapped them every day while in Ukraine.
Even though Lviv was far from the fighting, he could hear air raid sirens and the explosion of the Russian missiles, sometimes feeling the earth shake. When intelligence reports warned Ginzburg’s medical team of impending missile attacks, they sought refuge in safe houses.
“Today,” he told the Miami Herald last June, “I was calling my life insurance [company] because I have young sons and my wife, so I’m trying to make sure I have good coverage.”
By the end of his trips, Ginzburg lost count of the number of doctors he helped train and the number of patients he saw. “I’m sure it’s hundreds.” He plans to make a third trip sometime this year.
‘This is our new reality’
Karina Sokolowska is the director of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee’s activities in Poland. (Courtesy of the JDC)
As the director of the JDC, or the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, in Poland, Karina Sokolowska has heard countless harrowing stories over the past year. But one sticks out in her memory.
It involved an elderly Ukrainian couple she met at the Poland-Ukraine border in late spring. The husband was in a wheelchair, and Sokolowska helped push him — back towards Ukraine. They had spent three months in a shelter in Poland but eventually “realized we cannot go looking for jobs, we cannot restart our lives. We are too old,” the woman said.
“If they are to die, they’d rather die back home,” Sokolowska said. “It’s a story of hopelessness. They are so vulnerable.”
Last year, about 8 million Ukrainian refugees made their way to Poland, the bordering country that accepted the most refugees. Early on in the conflict, Sokolowska contacted and visited Jewish communities throughout Poland, investigating the availability of places where the soon-to-be-homeless refugees could be housed. She also traveled to some of the border crossings where the Ukrainians entered, to arrange transportation to venues in Poland and to oversee the conditions in which the refugees would begin their new lives.
Later she would help with, among other things: arranging legal advice for the people who arrived with few identification documents; lining up medical care and drugs; finding them short- and long-term housing; connecting them to psychological counseling; providing kosher meals; and even caring for the refugees’ pets (“dogs and cats with no documents”).
According to JDC statistics, the organization “provided essential supplies and care” to 43,000 Jews in Ukraine and “aided 22,000+ people” there with “winter survival needs … more than double the amount served in previous years.” The welfare organization also claimed to provide “life-saving services” to more than 40,000 refugees in Poland, Moldova, Romania, Hungary, Bulgaria and other European locations. It also helped evacuate about 13,000 Jews from Ukraine. (Israeli Foreign Minister Eli Cohen recently said 15,000 Ukrainian Jews in total have immigrated to Israel since the start of the war.)
Karina Sokolowska, JDC director for Poland and Scandinavia sits in her office down the hall from a hotline room, in early March 2022. (Toby Axelrod)
At the height of the refugee flood, Sokolowska said her monthly JDC budget ballooned to more than what she previously spent in an entire year. Her office went from having a few employees to over 20. The amount of sleep she got decreased in tandem; she started taking sleeping pills to get rest when she could.
“This is our new reality” in Poland, she says of the JDC work with Ukrainian refugees. “This is our life now.”
Sokolowska, the granddaughter of Yiddish-speaking Holocaust survivors, became active in Jewish life during college, when a classmate heard her pronouncing some German words with a Yiddish accent and persuaded her to lead the Polish Union of Jewish Students. As JDC director for Scandinavian countries in addition to Poland, she typically organizes educational conferences and helps Jewish families learn about traditions they had not learned while growing up in the communist era.
Today, her sense of optimism has been ground down.
“Everything changed when war came to Ukraine — there is less hope,” Sokolowska said. “It’s a totally new everything. Every aspect of our life changed. Our hope for this to be over soon is going down, down, down. Nothing will change.”
‘It could [have been] me’
Tom and Darlynn Fellman volunteered in Krakow in October 2022. (Courtesy of Tom Fellman)
Sometime in the late 1890s, Harry Fellman, about 20 years old, left his home in Ukraine. According to family legend, he was a sharpshooter in the Ukrainian army and was about to be sent into active combat. Instead, he emigrated to the United States and settled in Omaha, Nebraska, where he became a peddler.
His grandson Tom Fellman — whose middle name is Harry — doesn’t know all the 120-year-old details, but he knows that he is grateful that Harry Fellman decided to leave Ukraine when he did.
“It could [have been] me, if my grandparents had not left when they did,” said Fellman, a successful real estate developer and philanthropist in Omaha.
In October, at 78 years old, Fellman made the reverse trip across the Atlantic to pitch in to the relief effort. He also wanted to pay what he sees as a debt to the memory of his late grandfather and to help the current generation of Ukrainian Jews.
He and his wife Darlynn served as volunteers for a week at the Krakow Jewish community center, joining hundreds (possibly thousands) of volunteers from overseas who have gone to Poland and the other nations in the region over the last year to participate in humanitarian programs on behalf of the millions of Ukrainian refugees. Fellman worked nine hours a day with a half-dozen fellow foreign volunteers in the basement of the community center, transferring the contents of “big, big” sacks of items like potatoes and sugar into small containers to be distributed to refugees in the building’s first-floor food pantry. His wife spent her time in an art therapy program that was set up for the refugee mothers and children to raise their spirits.
Fellman is “not particularly religious” but supports “anything Jewish.” In 1986, he accompanied a rescue mission plane of Soviet Jews headed to Israel. “It was the most rewarding experience of my life,” he recalled.
Fellman says he plans to return to Poland, in June, for the JCC’s annual fundraising bike ride from Auschwitz to Krakow.
What did his friends think of his septuagenarian volunteer stint? “They thought it was cool,” he said. “But none of them are going too.”
‘Everything was a risk’
Elizaveta Sherstuk runs a branch of Hesed, a network of welfare centers, in Sumy, Ukraine. (Courtesy of Sherstuk)
Sherstuk’s parents would have sent their daughter to a Jewish school in her early years if they had had the option. But Jewish education was not permitted In Sumy during the final years of communist rule in the Soviet republic. Sherstuk was exposed to Jewish life only at home.
Her parents infused her with a Jewish identity, she said, and her grandparents used to talk and sing songs in Yiddish. That inspired Sherstuk’s first career as a singer and a music teacher, during which she founded Aviv and took it on tour throughout the region singing traditional Jewish songs. Later, she became the director of Sumy’s branch of the JDC-funded Hesed network.
Sumy, an industrial city with a population of 300,000 before the war situated only 30 miles from the Russian border, was one of Russia’s first targets. In the days before the pending invasion, Sherstuk stockpiled food, which was certain to become scarce in case of war, and arranged bus transportation to safer parts of the country for hundreds of vulnerable civilians, mostly the elderly and disabled. The bus plan fell through for safety issues.
As the bombing started, it became dangerous for members of the local 1,000-member Jewish community, many of them elderly, to venture outside of their apartments. Sherstuk, working out of a bomb shelter, assisted by a Hesed network of volunteers, coordinated food and medicine deliveries.
The situation grew more dire, and she coordinated the Jewish community’s participation in a brief humanitarian corridor evacuation of vulnerable civilians that the Russians permitted. She communicated with Sumy residents mostly by smartphones provided by the JDC — the Russian attacks had cut the landlines — and accompanied the busloads of Sumy Jews to western Ukraine. Some of them eventually moved on to Israel, Germany, or other nearby countries, she said.
Sherstuk stayed in western Ukraine for a while (“The humanitarian corridors are only for one-way trips,” she noted), moving from place to place, keeping in touch with the Jews of Sumy and waiting for Ukraine’s army to make the trip back safe. But Sumy, like many Ukrainian cities, has come under frequent Russian rocket attack.
“Everything was a risk,” she said. “We were following whatever our hearts told us to do. We had to save people. I was the one who had to do it.”
Last May, Sherstuk was among 12 men and women (and the sole one from the Diaspora) who lit a torch at the start of Israel’s Independence Day in a government ceremony on Mount Herzl. During two weeks in Israel, she spent some time with members of her family, and held a series of meetings with JDC officials, government ministers and donors. “It was not a vacation,” she said.
After going back to Sumy, at the suggestions of her choral group members and fellow Sumy residents, she organized concerts in Hebrew, Yiddish, Ukrainian and Russian — some in person, some in a bomb shelter in the city’s central square, some online. She has now resumed her music classes, too, and it has all boosted morale. “I [teach] all the time,” she said.
—
The post ‘There was no time to sleep’: 4 Jews reflect on a year of helping Ukrainians at war appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
Uncategorized
‘Don’t give up on us now’: Israel peace summit convenes thousands to aim for elusive progress
TEL AVIV, ISRAEL — On Thursday’s bright, sun-drenched morning during a rare pause in the multi-front war Israel has been locked into for nearly three years, in between the protests, funerals and steady drumbeat of violence and trauma, something decidedly more hopeful was taking place.
In one of the city’s largest conference centers, thousands gathered for the third annual People’s Peace Summit under the banner “It must be. It can be. It will be.” The event was organized by the It’s Time coalition, a partnership of more than 80 grassroots peacebuilding and shared society organizations.
Young activists in T-shirts representing their various causes stood alongside older attendees, some in kippot, others in hijabs. Diplomats in business attire moved through the crowd, as did the handful of Israeli politicians still publicly associated with the peace camp – familiar faces in a political landscape where their ranks have thinned considerably. Outside the main arena, Hebrew mingled with Arabic and English as participants strolled through art installations and an organizational fair showcasing the work of It’s Time’s partners.
While previous events took place at the height of war — while hostages remained in captivity and Gaza endured devastating destruction — this year’s summit unfolded during a fragile lull in fighting, the tenuous ceasefires with Hamas, Hezbollah, and the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps allowing, however briefly, for conversations to move beyond issues of immediate survival. Speakers tackled settler violence in the West Bank, looming elections, the immense challenge of rebuilding Gaza and the broader question of how to move Israel and Palestine beyond its default state of perpetual conflict. Inside the packed sessions, the tone was equal parts practical, sober and hopeful.
After a quick coffee break, the thousands of participants came together for an evening of stirring speeches and raucous musical performances. When Israeli pop icon Dana International took the stage with a familiar anthem of peace, the crowd rose to its feet, wrapping their arms around one another and belting out the words.
Despite the joyous atmosphere, the event — and the coalition behind it — is not immune from criticism. Some critiques appear to have been internalized: this year’s programming leaned more heavily into policy, strategy and the hard realities of war than previous gatherings. Other issues remain unresolved. Palestinian participation, while present, was still markedly limited, which organizers attribute largely to government-imposed restrictions on movement rather than a lack of interest. Still, the question of whether a civil society movement like this can translate hope and optimism into concrete political change remains to be seen.
That tension between aspiration and reality extends well beyond Israel. In the United States, support for Israel, particularly among younger American Jews, is waning. A 2024 Pew survey found that fewer than half of American Jews under 30 say they feel “very attached” to Israel, while a JFNA poll released in February 2026, found that just 37% of all American Jews identify as Zionists. Both numbers represent a sharp decline from older generations.
For Shira Ben Sasson, Israel director of the New Israel Fund, it is precisely the peace camp which could hold the answer to this growing disillusionment. If the state itself no longer reflects the values that once anchored many American Jews’ connection to Israel, she suggests, perhaps their more natural partner is the small but determined coalition of Israelis working to change it.
“I appreciate how difficult it is to be a Jew who cares about Israel right now,” she told the Forward as the conference, which New Israel Fund helped support and coordinate, got underway. “People are struggling with what they are seeing — the way Israel is conducting itself. Its policies. They are watching the value set that once connected them so strongly to the Jewish state disappear.”
Her response is one of both reassurance and redirection.
“Thank you for continuing to care,” she said. “But remember — the Israeli government is not your partner. We are. Pro-democracy civil society is your partner. Those of us who are fighting for equality here, for the rights of non-Israeli Jews and the rights of non-Jewish Israelis are your partners. This is where those shared values still live.”
If that message feels unfamiliar to those in the diaspora, Ben Sasson suggests the reason ultimately comes down to lack of exposure.
“We, the Israeli peace camp, need to be in many more places than we are right now,” she said. “We must get the word out that while we might not be the majority here, we are not only growing in number, we are expanding our diversity as well.”
She pointed to the rising number of Orthodox Jews, like herself, who have joined the movement as one example.
Ben Sasson also emphasized that, as with any strong partnership, the relationship must move in both directions. Israeli peace activists, she said, must make themselves more visible to American Jews. But American Jews also need to be willing to open their eyes.
“The mainstream Jewish community has to challenge itself,” she said. “They have to be able to voice their concern for Israeli democracy, for the violence in the occupied territories. And they have to be willing to engage in an honest discussion about peace.”
She is less worried about reaching individuals whose support for Israel may be wavering — many of whom, she believes, will connect with the movement’s vision — than she is about the institutions that have long shaped American Jewish engagement with Israel. Those institutions, she said, have been slow to open themselves to this kind of messaging.
“I think there’s fear,” Ben Sasson explained. “The word ‘peace’ has come to sound political. And once something is labeled political, these legacy institutions don’t want to touch it.”
But that avoidance, she warned, comes at a cost.
“They cannot afford to just stick with the same old stale perception of Israel,” she argued. “If you aren’t willing to talk about the real-life issues that Israelis are facing, you simply won’t be relevant anymore — particularly for the young people in your community.”
“Do not be afraid of controversy,” she added. “Do not be afraid to invite an Arab and a Jew to your event, where there may be disagreement. That’s okay. Struggling and wrestling is a core part of our identity.”
While Ben Sasson contends there is a critical mass of people who are hungry for an alternative way to relate to Israel, the question of feasibility remains; the same question that follows the peace movement inside Israel: Does its growing visibility reflect real political momentum, or is it simply too late to reverse course?
To those who are ready to walk away altogether, Ben Sasson points out that Israel stands to lose not only their support, but also the values and organizing traditions American Jews have long brought to the relationship.
“You’ve helped us achieve so many things in Israel for decades,” she said. “You helped us get a state. And now we need a different kind of support. The Jewish values that you offer — the concept of tikkun olam, which is not at the heart of Israeli Judaism but is at the heart of American Judaism — this is the support you can offer us right now.”
Her final plea was simple.
“Do not give up on Israel,” Ben Sasson said. “There have been so many times when things felt insurmountable and you did not give up on us. Don’t give up on us now.”
The post ‘Don’t give up on us now’: Israel peace summit convenes thousands to aim for elusive progress appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
A GOP lawmaker tried to put a Holocaust denier on New Hampshire’s Holocaust education board
(JTA) — A Republican state lawmaker in New Hampshire partnered with a notorious German Holocaust denier in an effort to insert Holocaust denial into the state’s public education guidelines.
Rep. Matt Sabourin dit Choinière successfully pushed the New Hampshire Commission on Holocaust and Genocide Education to hear testimony from Germar Rudolf, a German chemist who has previously been deported from the United States and served prison time in his home country for propagating Holocaust denial.
Two other Holocaust deniers also testified before the state House as a result of Sabourin dit Choinière’s efforts, including a man who grew up Jewish who has led protests outside a Michigan synagogue weekly for more than two decades.
Sabourin dit Choinière’s antics were first reported Wednesday by NPR. But the push actually took place in public view, during a livestreamed meeting of the state House’s Executive Departments and Administration Committee in January.
During the meeting, Sabourin dit Choinière testified that he had visited Dachau and seen a gas chamber, then learned that no one was ever gassed at Dachau. (The Dachau historic site says the chamber’s lack of use “remains unexplained.” More than 40,000 people died at Dachau.)
“This was the first doubt in my mind that over time led towards a revisionist thinking about the Holocaust,” Sabourin dit Choinière said before explaining that he was relieved to have discovered the “Committee for Open Debate on the Holocaust,” a group that produced a 54-volume set of books that he offered to the committee.
“Holocaust historical revision revisionism as a science does not deny that Jews were persecuted or deprived of their civil rights or deported or herded into ghettos. It does not deny that many were killed, but it does seek to learn why, how and when they died. And it seeks to separate the truth from the fiction,” he said.
“This is vitally important knowledge for the Holocaust and Genocide Education Commission’s curriculum development,” he continued. “If we are going to have Holocaust and Genocide Education taught in New Hampshire public schools, which I think it should be, it needs to be accurate and reliable.”
The Committee for Open Debate on the Holocaust is run by Rudolf, whose publications have claimed that Zyklon B was never used in the Auschwitz gas chambers, defended notorious Holocaust denier David Irving and cast doubt on photographic evidence of concentration camps.
Few people attended the public meeting, which mostly focused on the state retirement system. Among those in attendance were three men who testified: Rudolf and two members of his group.
“I have under my belt 35 years of research, organizing research, conducting and publishing research, of forensic and archival nature on the Holocaust question,” Rudolf said during his testimony.
The other two men both came in from Michigan: Henry Herskovitz, an Ann Arbor man who for decades has led weekly protests outside a synagogue’s Shabbat services that have incorporated Holocaust denial; and David Skrbina, a former professor at the University of Michigan-Dearborn who has published numerous Holocaust-denial books under a pseudonym.
“As a historical event of great importance, we must examine all sides of this topic with an open mind,” Skrbina told the committee. “Exaggerations, lies, gross errors, and physical impossibilities must be identified and rooted out if we are to learn from this event and to do justice to its many victims.”
During the meeting, the testimony elicited little pushback. One state lawmaker indicated sympathy to the Holocaust deniers’ testimony.
“I’ve been there. I’ve seen all of that. I’ve felt it when I walked around. And I think it’s a travesty that we’re trying to hide the truth about what’s happened in the past, and I want to thank you all for bringing this to the committee today, and I think all students everywhere should know what happened,” GOP state Rep. Susan DeRoy told the panel following Rudolf and Herskovitz’s testimony. “So my question would be, why do they want to cover this up?” (The chair shot down the line of questioning, saying, “It’s not an appropriate question.” DeRoy did not immediately reply to a request for comment.)
Sabourin dit Choinière also introduced an amendment that would have added a member of Rudolf’s extremist group to the commission, which oversees Holocaust education that is required in New Hampshire schools and is preparing to update curriculum materials.
The amendment failed. But the fact that it was made and entertained at all was deeply concerning to New Hampshire state representative Loren Selig, a Jewish Democrat and Holocaust commission member.
“Shocked would be an understatement,” Selig told NPR about the moment her colleague introduced it. “I could barely speak.”
Another member of the commission, Rabbi Jon Spira-Savett, told JTA that the incident was “horrifying.”
“Any time anything like this gets a public airing, that’s not good,” Spira-Savett, who leads Temple Beth Abraham in Nashua, said of the legislator’s flirtation with Holocaust denial. “The idea that somehow Holocaust education ought to include hearing the perspective of deniers — we are so, so far beyond that, and it’s terrifying we might actually have to make the case for that here in our state or anywhere.”
The commission was formed with a 2020 state law to set guidelines for the state on teaching the Holocaust, and includes lawmakers from both parties. Sabourin dit Choinière does not serve on it. Though commissioners are dedicated to the task, Spira-Savett said, “it isn’t a state where there’s a tremendous amount of resources to enforce the teaching.”
Unrelated to his Holocaust denial, Rudolf also has a criminal record, having been convicted in Pennsylvania, where he lives, of indecent exposure after being arrested for public nudity at a playground.
Sabourin dit Choinière’s antics come as the Republican Party grapples with internal tensions over antisemitism, as party leaders have grown divided by figures such as Tucker Carlson, Candace Owens and Nick Fuentes who have minimized the Holocaust or amplified deniers. Texas Sen. Ted Cruz lamented the rise of antisemitism in the party to the Republican Jewish Coalition conference earlier this year, while Vice President JD Vance has said he does not want to draw lines that would exclude such voices from the party.
A Republican candidate for state office rejected Sabourin dit Choinière’s endorsement of him following NPR’s reporting. The conservative group Americans For Prosperity, which has endorsed Sabourin dit Choinière in the past, condemned antisemitism in a statement to NPR.
Prior to NPR’s report, Sabourin dit Choinière’s Holocaust commission moves attracted little public attention. A New Hampshire progressive group in January called on House Speaker Sherman Packard to strip Sabourin dit Choinière of his committee assignments, which according to the House website he has retained.
“Promoting Holocaust denial and antisemitic conspiracy theories is incompatible with public service,” a co-founder of the Kent Street Coalition wrote in an open letter published in a nonprofit news site. “Rep. Sabourin dit Choinière should be removed from his committee assignments as a matter of principle and accountability.”
Holocaust education commissions have been the sites of controversy in other states. The South Carolina equivalent last year faced internal division over its chair’s decision to muzzle a local rabbi’s speech tying the Holocaust to modern U.S. policies. Texas’s own commission recently advised on a controversial proposed statewide required reading list, and Texas’s governor also recently appointed a Christian pro-Israel activist to the commission.
Sabourin dit Choinière isn’t the only member of New Hampshire’s state house to have made antisemitic comments related to the Holocaust this year. Another Republican, state Rep. Travis Corcoran, faced disciplinary hearings this week after tweeting a “final solution” joke aimed at a Jewish Democratic colleague.
The post A GOP lawmaker tried to put a Holocaust denier on New Hampshire’s Holocaust education board appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
NH lawmaker reprimanded for ‘final solution’ joke aimed at Jewish colleague
(JTA) — A Republican state legislator in New Hampshire faced a disciplinary hearing this week for having tweeted a “final solution” reference at a Jewish Democratic colleague.
Last month, GOP state Rep. Travis Corcoran wrote on social media, “We need a final solution for theater kids in politics,” in response to state Rep. Jessica Grill’s bid to form a bipartisan “karaoke caucus.”
Corcoran is now facing a possible sanction or expulsion for his comment, which invoked the Nazi “final solution” to murder all Jews. His comments came as the Republican Party has faced internal divisions over the rise of antisemitism within its ranks, with white-nationalist figures and conspiracy theorists including Nick Fuentes and Candace Owens gaining a toehold in some corners of the party.
This week Corcoran defended his comments to the legislature, saying he was joking and did not know his colleague was Jewish. He called disciplinary procedures against him a “kangaroo court.”
“A joke is now being treated as though it were an act of malice, and sarcasm is being recast as hate speech. This is absurd,” Corcoran told colleagues during his testimony. On social media, he later wrote, “Apologies are a humiliation ritual that the left forces on people to demonstrate their power over you. Say whatever you want about me, but I’m never going to cower so that cucks will like me.” He used a common slang term for “cuckold,” a husband who has been cheated on.
A self-described libertarian, prolific social media user and self-published science-fiction author, Corcoran has developed a reputation in his state for coarse, frequently offensive commentary. He has urged his followers to “all say or type” the N-word “in a public place,” has said “crime is predominantly caused by African Americans” and, prior to his 2022 election, reportedly defended the 2011 attempted assassination of then-U.S. Rep. Gabby Giffords as “morally legitimate” on his blog.
Grill, the Jewish state lawmaker to whom Corcoran had directed his comment, called for Corcoran to be expelled from the state House, saying he had rejected requests to mediate the matter privately. Corcoran left the hearing before Grill spoke.
“As a Jewish lawmaker, the use of this phrase ‘final solution’ is especially disturbing,” she said during the hearing. “It’s not a poorly worded joke; it is targeted language with a specific historical meaning. And more importantly, it was delivered at a time when both antisemitism and political violence are, unfortunately, on the rise on all sides of the ideological spectrum.”
Grill continued, “An antisemitic threat does not serve the public interest or advance free speech and debate.”
Among the other voices calling for disciplinary action against Corcoran were current and former Jewish state lawmakers in New Hampshire, including Jeffrey Salloway, a former Democratic lawmaker in the state house and longtime lay leader in the Conservative movement of Judaism. Many non-Jewish commenters also gave testimony supporting Grill.
One Republican, state Rep. Matt Drew, defended Corcoran on free-speech grounds but did not say whether he believed the comment was antisemitic.
Corcoran was not the only New Hampshire Republican state lawmaker to face controversy this year over Holocaust-related comments. A colleague, state Rep. Matt Sabourin dit Choinière, invited Holocaust deniers to testify to the state’s Holocaust education committee in January while attempting to push an amendment to incorporate Holocaust denial into the state’s public education guidelines.
The post NH lawmaker reprimanded for ‘final solution’ joke aimed at Jewish colleague appeared first on The Forward.