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Two late iconic Israeli singers have been resurrected via AI for a duet. Not everyone is happy about it.
(JTA) — Two popular Israeli singers — one the “Madonna of the East,” the other the “king” of Mizrahi music as well as a convicted rapist — have teamed up on a new song in honor of their country’s 75th birthday.
The twist: Both Ofra Haza and Zohar Argov have been dead for decades.
Their collaboration, “Here Forever,” wasn’t unearthed in a dusty archive. Instead, the song and its accompanying video are essentially deepfakes, created using artificial intelligence that mined recordings from when they were alive to fabricate a lifelike performance of a song composed long after their deaths.
Their families signed off on the song, a soulful duet about Israel’s bygone past that has caught on among Israeli listeners. But some in the country are asking why Argov, who died in prison while facing another rape charge, should be a centerpiece of Israel’s Independence Day celebrations.
Meanwhile, others who were close to the artists, including Haza’s longtime manager Bezalel Aloni, have panned the song.
“The song does not resemble the tone of her divine voice,” Aloni told Israeli news outlet N12. “She broke through thanks to her artistry, and none of that is reflected in this piece. ֿI want to cry for her.”
An Argov impersonator who was part of the team that created the song also slammed it in the press, calling it “shameful” for not accurately reproducing Argov’s voice.
The song is part of a growing trend of using AI to create new tracks with pop stars’ voices. Fresh, but fake, songs or covers have been published using the vocals of artists like Drake and Rihanna, raising ethical questions as to who owns an artist’s voice or likeness.
The new song’s popularity — the video has racked up 200,000 views since launching last week, and the song is the 16th-most-requested in Israel on Shazam, a music app — also suggests that Israelis are embracing nostalgia for a shared Israeli past at a time when the country is occupied with social strife and political upheaval.
“Not to be too cliched, but with everything that’s been happening in the last three months, that offered a lot of inspiration,” Oudi Antebi, CEO and co-founder of Session 42, the Israeli music production company spearheading the AI music project, told the Times of Israel.
The video for “Here Forever” uses archival footage of the singers to make them look like they’re singing the song, combined with grainy scenes from Israel during earlier eras of its history.
Both Haza and Argov played a role in shaping that history through their music, which earned them distinctive nicknames. Haza, who died in 2000, was dubbed the “Madonna” of Israel, and is perhaps best known to American audiences for her singing on the soundtrack of the 1998 animated musical film “The Prince of Egypt.” Her musical style blended Mizrahi influences and pop.
Argov was called, simply, the “king” of Mizrahi music, and he helped mainstream the genre that is rooted in the songs and poetry of Jews from across the Middle East and North Africa. But his life and legacy have been tainted by a conviction for rape as well as other criminal charges. He died by suicide in a prison cell in 1987 while facing his second rape charge, nearly 10 years after the conviction. Even so, in the decades since his death, his music has become ever more popular. He is one of the most-played artists on Israeli radio, even after growing awareness of sexual abuse in the years since the beginning of the #MeToo movement.
“I had hoped, but it’s hard to say I expected” that attitudes toward Argov would change, Orit Sulitzeanu, executive director of the Association of Rape Crisis Centers in Israel, told the Times of Israel last year in an article exploring Argov’s legacy. “Until there is societal shaming, sexual violence will continue all over the place,” she said. “There have to be people pushing for it … the only way to make change is through activism.”
In a column last week, Israeli music journalist Avi Sasson suggested that Argov’s rape conviction should have been grounds for excluding him from “Here Forever.”
“What about this pairing?” Sasson wrote in the Israeli publication Ynet. “After all, Ofra Haza and Zohar Argov worked in parallel in the ’70s and ’80s, and when they could have collaborated, they chose not to. Moreover, did anyone stop to think about the fact that, had Ofra Haza been alive today, in the #MeToo era, perhaps she wouldn’t have opted to record a duet with Argov, a person who was convicted of rape and later ended his life in a jail cell?”
For his part, Aloni said that Haza “vehemently refused to collaborate with Zohar Argov,” but the manager did not attribute that refusal to Argov’s rape conviction. Rather, although Haza is widely described as a Mizrahi singer and was of Yemeni Jewish descent, Aloni said Haza did not consider her musical genre to be Mizrahi.
Antebi said that after conducting a poll to see which artists best represented Israel, the vast majority voted for Haza and Argov.
Antebi told the Times of Israel that the track is “a love song for the nation.” Its chorus seems to allude not only to Israeli resilience but also to the technological innovation that made the song possible — and that has placed new words in Argov and Haza’s mouths long after their passing.
“I’ll stay here always, I’ve missed you,” the lyrics read. “Even if you can’t see it, we are here forever.”
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The Day I Hid My Star of David Necklace
Anti-Israel protesters gather at Museumplein ahead of a 6 km march through the city as part of a protest demanding a tougher stance from the Dutch government against Israel’s war in Gaza, in Amsterdam, Netherlands, Oct. 5, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Charlotte Van Campenhout
There are moments when a small object can feel unbearably heavy.
For me, it was my Star of David necklace — a delicate piece, inherited through generations, usually worn without a second thought. But recently, for the first time, I left it at home on purpose.
I have spent more than a decade publicly defending Israel in the Netherlands. I am not easily intimidated. I have never believed in lowering my voice to make others comfortable. Yet years of activism have taught me something sobering. Conviction does not shield you from hatred.
In the Dutch debate, hostility toward Israel is often dressed up as principled anti-Zionism. The terminology sounds political, even academic. In practice, it frequently mutates into something far uglier. I have been called a dirty Jew, a child killer, a parasite. I have received death threats online. Eggs were thrown at my home. My car tires were slashed more than once. A dead pigeon was once hung on my door in a plastic bag, a grotesque attempt at intimidation.
The irony is bitter. According to rabbinical standards, I am not considered Jewish enough to qualify for Aliyah under religious law, despite Jewish roots on both sides of my family. Yet to those who despise Israel, I am more than Jewish enough to be targeted.
When I reported the harassment, I was advised to keep a lower profile. Perhaps, I was told, I should refrain from speaking so openly in support of Israel. That conversation taught me a painful lesson. Protection would not necessarily come from institutions. It would have to come from resilience.
Over the years, I have lost professional opportunities and personal relationships. I occupy a strange space. Too Jewish for some. Not Jewish enough for others. Meanwhile, I am accused of being a Mossad agent or a paid operative for advocacy groups such as CIDI. The truth is less glamorous. I am simply a Dutch woman who has studied history and refuses to distort it.
Still, something shifted recently.
I needed to see a cardiologist. A routine appointment, nothing political about it. Out of caution, I searched his public social media profile. He had shared and endorsed extreme anti Israel content, including propaganda portraying Israel as uniquely evil. Suddenly a standard medical visit felt charged.
That morning, I removed my Star of David and placed it on my dresser.
The gesture unsettled me more than I expected. It felt like surrender. The same calculation followed before an appointment with another medical professional, originally from Iran. Check social media. Remove visible symbols. Avoid potential bias. Stay invisible.
I am not proud of that instinct. For years I have urged others to stand tall. Yet when you are alone in a climate of escalating hostility, prudence can override pride. Health is not a battleground on which one wishes to test ideological neutrality.
The broader context explains why this fear is not imaginary. The Netherlands has witnessed a sharp rise in antisemitic incidents. CIDI, the Center for Information and Documentation on Israel, recorded 379 antisemitic incidents in 2023, then 421 in 2024, the highest number since monitoring began. Police figures, using broader criteria, have been even higher. These are not abstract data points. They represent Jewish students harassed in classrooms, mezuzot ripped from doorposts, and families who hesitate before displaying visible signs of identity.
Each year on Holocaust Remembrance Day, including ceremonies marking the liberation of, we solemnly repeat the words “never again.” The phrase echoes with sincerity. But remembrance without vigilance is ritual without substance.
My advocacy for Israel does not stem from blind loyalty. It arises from historical understanding. After two thousand years of exile, persecution, and statelessness, the reestablishment of Jewish sovereignty in 1948 was not a colonial experiment but an act of national restoration. Israel, like any democracy, is imperfect. It debates fiercely within itself. It includes Jews from Europe, the Middle East, North Africa, and Ethiopia. I have written extensively about the rescue of Ethiopian Jews who found refuge and citizenship there. That diversity alone undermines the simplistic caricature of Israel as a racist project.
When activists declare that Zionism is racism and deny Israel’s right to exist, they claim to be advancing justice. In reality, they are singling out the world’s only Jewish state for elimination. It is not surprising that such rhetoric often spills over into open antisemitism.
The consequences are felt far beyond Israel’s borders. Across Europe and America, Jewish communities report heightened violence and terrorism. The Netherlands is not immune. And so a necklace becomes a calculation.
Yet while I may occasionally remove a symbol, I will not silence my voice. If anything, the climate reinforces why speaking out matters.
Unity is essential. Jews and non-Jews alike must reject the normalization of antisemitism, whether it appears under the banner of anti-Zionism or any other fashionable label. This is not about suppressing legitimate criticism of Israeli policies. It is about drawing a moral line when criticism becomes demonization and when political disagreement becomes collective vilification.
One day, I hope, wearing a Star of David in Amsterdam will feel entirely unremarkable. An heirloom necklace will simply be jewelry, not a statement of defiance. Until then, even if I sometimes leave it at home, I will continue to speak publicly and unapologetically.
Because never again is not a slogan. It is a responsibility that begins in the present.
Sabine Sterk is the CEO of Time To Stand Up For Israel.
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History and Archaeological Evidence Shows Jews Were Pioneers in Learning and Education
Inside the National Library of Israel. Photo: © Herzog & de Meuron; Mann-Shinar Architects, Executive Architect.
The opening of a new building for the National Library of Israel was one of the events overshadowed by the October 7 attack on Israel.
The library, almost five million square feet of space containing five million books, did open its doors on October, 29, 2023. The impressive new building, with its state-of-the-art automated book retrieval system, is a far cry from the library’s modest beginnings in 1892.
That the library opened five years before the first Zionist Congress, and well before the establishment of the state of Israel, indicates the importance that the Jewish people place on books and literacy — and also the long connection between Jews and Israel.
In Judaism and Hellenism in Antiquity (1998), Lee I. Levine makes the point that Jews were unique in the ancient world in reading a holy text at religious services and discussing its meaning on a regular basis. (Ezra the Scribe is credited with initiating the reading of the Torah at religious services, in the fifth century BCE, after the return from exile in Babylonia [Nehemiah 8:1-8].)
That Jews are widely associated with literacy is a widespread belief. In fact, the expression “People of the Book” originated in the Koran, as a description for Jews (and Christians). But how literate were they in Biblical times? Scholars such as Meir Bar Ilan suggest that literacy in ancient Israel was low, less than 3% of the population, even as late as the first centuries CE.
After all, with the exception of priests and scribes, why would it be necessary to read and write in an agricultural society? However, recent archeological evidence signals that Jewish literacy in Biblical times was far more widespread than previously thought.
Archeological teams from Tel Aviv University used computer-based analyses to evaluate letters written by a small contingent of 20 to 30 Judean soldiers located at a military outpost at Arad, near the southern border of Judea. The letters, in Hebrew, were written in ink on ostraca (potsherds used as writing surfaces) shortly before the fall of Jerusalem to the Babylonians in 586 BCE.
Computer handwriting analysis used machine learning to digitize, segment, and extract features (for example, separation distances, angles, slopes, curves) from script to identify individuals. A professional handwriting expert also evaluated the writing on the ostraca.
The results, published in academic journals (PNAS, 2016 and Plos One, 2020), show that there were at least 12 different writers. They varied in rank, down to the equivalent of quartermaster (much of the material in the letters dealt with provisions and supplies). Clearly, the society represented by the soldiers at Arad must have included an educational infrastructure capable of ensuring widespread literacy.
In Discovering Second Temple Literature (2018) Malka Z. Simkovich, Crown-Ryan Chair of Jewish Studies at Catholic Theological Union in Chicago, provides a comprehensive view of the extensive literary output by Jewish communities during the period of the Second Temple (539 BCE to 70 CE). While she does not refer to literacy per se, the variety of material she describes, and the volume of letters written between Jews in Judea and those in the Diaspora (mainly between Jerusalem, Alexandria, and Antioch), suggests that the ability to read and write was common.
Some of the writings Simkovich refers to were found in the Cairo Geniza, a trove of more than 400,000 manuscripts, and fragments of manuscripts, discovered in the storeroom (the geniza) of the Ben Ezra Synagogue in Fustat (Old Cairo), Egypt.
Most of this collection was taken to Cambridge University in 1896 and today is being digitized. While much of this material involves the post-Temple period, manuscripts from the earlier, Second Temple period, were also common.
The geniza, a uniquely Jewish concept, is rooted in Jewish law. Any old or damaged liturgical texts or ritual objects that may include G-d’s name must not be casually discarded. The geniza is a temporary repository for such material prior to burial in consecrated ground.
The material in the Cairo Geniza was unusual in that the material stored there accumulated for a long time, between the 8th and 19th centuries. It includes secular material, such as legal contracts, accounting books, and personal letters, along with Biblical texts and rabbinical writings, making it a particularly valuable historical find. But equally important, the existence of the geniza is a reminder of the reverence for the written word that is a part of the Jewish tradition.
Jacob Sivak, a Fellow of the Royal Society of Canada, is a retired professor, University of Waterloo.
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Tucker Carlson’s Huckabee Interview: Confidence Without Comprehension
Carlson floated additional insinuations and conspiracy, including the absurd claim that the United States went to war in Iraq after September 11 because of Israel.
This trope, that Jewish or Israeli influence dragged America into war, has circulated for decades across ideological extremes.
Reducing complex American strategic decisions, Congressional votes, and post-9/11 security policy to “Israel made us do it” is not serious analysis. Yet here it was, presented as such by a former Fox News host watched by millions.
By the end of nearly three hours, a pattern had emerged.
Carlson repeatedly blurred theology into policy, questioned Jewish historical continuity, recycled war-blame insinuations, dismissed counter-evidence, and spoke authoritatively on subjects he appeared not to have mastered.
And he did so with confidence.
That is what much of the media missed.

The story was not Huckabee’s answer to a distorted Biblical question.
It was watching a prominent commentator unravel under the weight of his own thinly sourced claims.
Criticism of Israeli policy is legitimate. Debate over strategy is healthy.
But when interrogation gives way to insinuation, and skepticism morphs into selective credulity, the result is not fearless journalism.
It is confidence without comprehension.
And it was watched by nearly two million viewers in under 24 hours.
The author is a contributor to HonestReporting, a Jerusalem-based media watchdog with a focus on antisemitism and anti-Israel bias — where a version of this article first appeared.
