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U.N. exhibit remembers when the world turned its back on stateless Jewish refugees
(New York Jewish Week) — In 2017, Deborah Veach went back to Germany, looking for the site of the displaced persons camp where she and her parents had been housed after World War II. They were in suspension, between the lives her parents led in Belarus before they were shattered by the Nazis, and the unknown fate awaiting them as refugees without a country.
To her dismay, and despite the fact that Foehrenwald was one of the largest Jewish DP centers in the American-controlled zone of Germany, she found barely a trace. A complex that once included a yeshiva, a police force, a fire brigade, a youth home, a theater, a post office and a hospital was remembered by almost no one except a local woman who ran a museum in a former bath house.
“It was sort of an accident of history that we were there in that particular camp in Germany, of all places, with no ties, no extended family, no place to call home,” said Veach, who was born at Foehrenwald in 1949 and lives in New Jersey. Now, “they renamed it. They changed the names of all the streets. There is nothing recognizable about the fact that it had been a DP camp.”
Veach is part of a now-aging cohort of children born or raised in the DP camps, the last with a first-hand connection to the experience of some 250,000 Jewish survivors who passed through them at the end of the war. To make sure memories of the camps survive them, the YIVO Institute for Jewish Research and the United Nations Department of Global Communications have staged a short-term exhibit, “After the End of the World: Displaced Persons and Displaced Persons Camps.”
On display at U.N. headquarters in New York City Jan. 10 through Feb. 23, it is intended to illuminate “how the impact of the Holocaust continued to be felt after the Second World War ended and the courage and resilience of those that survived in their efforts to rebuild their lives despite having lost everything,” according to a press release.
Residents of a displaced persons camp in Salzburg, Austria. Undated, post-Second World War. (YIVO Institute for Jewish Research)
Among the artifacts on display are dolls created by Jewish children and copies of some of the 70-odd newspapers published by residents, as well as photographs of weddings, theatrical performances, sporting events and classroom lessons.
The exhibit is “about the displaced persons themselves, about their lives and their hopes and their dreams, their ambitions, their initiatives,” said Debórah Dwork, who directs the Center for the Study of the Holocaust, Genocide, and Crimes Against Humanity at the Graduate Center-CUNY, who served as the scholar adviser for the exhibition.
“There’s no point where the residents of these DP camps were just sitting around waiting for other people to do things for them,” she told the New York Jewish Week. “They took initiative and developed a whole range of cultural and educational programs.”
As early as 1943, as the war displaced millions of people, dozens of nations came to Washington and signed onto the United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Authority. (Despite its name, it preceded the founding of the U.N.) After the war, the British and U.S. military were in charge of supplying food, protection and medical care in hundreds of camps throughout Germany and Austria, and UNRRA administered the camps on a day-to-day basis.
Early on, Jewish Holocaust survivors — some who suffered in concentration camps, others who had escaped into the Soviet Union — were put in DP camps alongside their former tormentors, until the U.S. agreed to place them in separate compounds. Unable or unwilling to return to the countries where they had lost relatives, property and any semblance of a normal life, they began a waiting game, as few countries, including the United States, were willing to take them in, and Palestine was being blockaded by the British.
Abiding antisemitism was not the only reason they remained stateless. “Jews were [accused of being] subversives, communists, rebels, troublemakers, and the world war quickly gave way to cold war, and with it the notion that Hitler had been defeated and what we have to worry about is the communists,” David Nasaw, author of “The Last Million,” a history of the displaced persons, told the New York Jewish week in 2020.
In 1948 and 1950, Congress grudgingly passed legislation that allowed 50,000 Jewish survivors and their children to come to the United States. The rest were eventually able to go to Israel, after its independence in 1948.
The U.N. exhibit focuses less on this macro history — which includes what became another refugee crisis for the Palestinians displaced by Israel’s War for Independence — than on life in the DP camps.
“The exhibition illustrates how the displaced persons did not shrink from the task of rebuilding both their own lives and Jewish communal life,” said Jonathan Brent, chief executive officer at YIVO, in a statement.
Among those rebuilding their lives were Max Gitter and his parents, Polish Jews who had the perverse good luck of being exiled to Siberia during the war. The family made its way to Samarkand, in Uzbekistan, where Gitter was born in 1943. After the war ended, his parents returned to Poland, but repelled by antisemitism sought refuge in the American zone in Germany. They spent time in the Ainring DP camp, a former Luftwaffe base on the Austrian border, and at a small camp called Lechfeld, about 25 miles west of Munich.
Dolls made by stateless Jewish children residing in a DP camp near Florence, Italy, known as “Kibbutz HaOved.” The dolls are attired in local costumes based on the districts of the Tuscan city of Sienna. (YIVO Institute for Jewish Research)
“I was there until we came to the United States when I was six and a half, so I have some very distinct memories and some hazy memories,” said Gitter, emeritus director and vice chair of the YIVO board. One story he hasn’t forgotten is how his father and a friend were walking through the camp when they came upon a long line of people. “They were from the Soviet Union, so they knew that when there’s a line that it might be of interest.” It turned out to be a line for the lottery that would allow them to get into the United States under the Displaced Persons Act of 1948.
The family came to the United States in 1950, to “pretty shabby lodgings” in the Bronx, before his father bought a candy store and moved to Queens. Max went on to attend Harvard College and Yale Law School, and became a corporate litigator.
Gitter’s brother was born in one of the camps, and the exhibit includes a poster depicting the population increase between 1946 and 1947 at the Jewish DP center Bad Reichenhall. The birthrate in the camps has often been described as evidence of the optimism and defiance of the survivors, but Dwork said the truth is somewhat more complicated.
“There was a very high birth rate among the Jews in DP camps. This is the age group of reproductive age, at 20 to 40,” she said. “However, this image of fecundity hides what was rumored to be a significant abortion rate, too. And women had experienced years of starvation. Menstruation had only recently recommenced. So many women, in fact, miscarried or had trouble conceiving to begin with.”
A chart by artist O. Lec depicts the natural population increase of the Jewish Center Bad Reichenhall, Germany, 1946-1947. There was a very high birth rate among the Jews in DP camps. (YIVO Institute for Jewish Research)
“There is no silver lining here,” she added. “People live life on many levels. On the one hand, DPs look to the future and look with hope; at the same time, they carry tremendous burdens of pain and suffering and trauma and trepidations about the future.”
Veach, a member of the YIVO board, hopes visitors to the exhibit understand that such trauma is hardly a thing of the past.
“I think the real lesson is that history keeps repeating itself,” said Veach, growing emotional. “Basically we have DPs on our border with Mexico, you have DPs from Ukraine. I don’t think people realize the repercussions for these people who are trying to find a place to live. These are good people who are just placed where they are by history.”
Gitter, who like Veach will speak at an event Jan. 24 at the U.N. marking the exhibit, also hopes “After the End of the World” prods the consciences of visitors.
“A lot of the countries, a lot of places, including the United States, would not accept Jews after the war,” he said. “The issue of memory, the issue of statelessness, the issue of finally there was some hope for the Jews in their immigration to Israel and the United States — that part of the story also needs to be told.”
“After the End of the World: Displaced Persons and Displaced Persons Camps” is on view from Jan. 10-Feb. 23, 2023, at the United Nations Headquarters, 405 E 42nd St, New York, Monday-Friday, 9:00 a.m.-5:00 p.m. Entrance to the United Nations Visitor Centre in New York is free, but there are requirements for all visitors. See the United Nations Visitor Centre entry guidelines.
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Leqaa Kordia, the last Palestinian Columbia protester still in ICE detention, has been released
(JTA) — Leqaa Kordia, a Palestinian woman and the last person still detained in the Trump administration’s crackdown on pro-Palestinian campus protests last spring, was released from ICE custody on Monday.
Kordia’s release came weeks after New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani petitioned President Donald Trump in person on her behalf. Mamdani celebrated the development in a statement.
“In my meeting with President Trump last month, we discussed ICE’s actions at Columbia University. I asked that the federal government release Leqaa Kordia and drop the cases against four others,” he tweeted. “I am grateful that Leqaa has been released this evening from ICE custody after more than a year in detention for speaking up for Palestinian rights.”
Kordia, 33, who immigrated to New Jersey from the West Bank in 2016, had been held in a U.S. immigration detention center in Texas since last March after she was arrested for her involvement in a pro-Palestinian protest at Columbia in 2024. Kordia had overstayed her student visa and was never a student at Columbia.
On Friday, an immigration judge ordered her release on $100,000 bond. It was the third time that the judge had ordered her release, which was granted after the government declined to appeal.
“I don’t know what to say. I’m free! I’m free! Finally, after one year,” Kordia told reporters after being released from the detention center.
Kordia was among a number of people arrested last spring amid the Trump administration’s crackdown on noncitizens who had participated in anti-Israel protests, some of which drew allegations of antisemitism, on university campuses.
Among those arrested was Mahmoud Khalil, a Columbia University graduate whose release Mamdani also called for. Earlier this month, Khalil broke the Ramadan fast at Gracie Mansion with Mamdani and his wife Rama Duwaji. Duwaji, whose pro-Palestinian social media posts have increasingly drawn scrutiny, also celebrated Kordia’s release on Instagram.
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For the first time ever, NBA game features 3 Jews — Deni Avdija, Danny Wolf and Ben Saraf
(JTA) — BROOKLYN — The Barclays Center had the energy of a bar mitzvah party on Monday night, as kippah-clad basketball fans and kids waving posters with Hebrew words of encouragement came to cheer on an NBA first: a game featuring three Jewish players — all Israeli citizens.
The Brooklyn Nets were hosting the Portland Trail Blazers — whose forward Deni Avdija recently became the first Israeli All-Star in the league.
He joined Danny Wolf and Ben Saraf, two Jewish players who have galvanized the Nets’ Jewish fanbase since joining the team this year. Saraf was raised in Israel and got his start in basketball there, while Wolf grew up in Illinois and secured Israeli citizenship to play for Team Israel in international competitions.
Avdija, who normally averages about 25 points per game, struggled to find a rhythm on Monday night, as did Wolf, who has intrigued scouts with the ball handling skills of a point guard despite his nearly 7-foot height. But Saraf impressed, scoring 15 points and notching four assists and four steals in 24 minutes of play.
Saraf’s efforts were not enough to buoy his team, though, and the Nets lost to the Trail Blazers, 114-95.
That hardly dimmed the enthusiasm of the crowd, who thrilled at seeing Avdija and Saraf hug on the court before the game and exchange jerseys after the game in a show of respect and friendship.
Some draped in shawls printed with a fusion of the Israeli and American flags lingered court-side for a chance to get Avdija’s attention. At times when the game was quiet, some fans could be heard shouting “Deni! Deni!” Some wore hats with “Brooklyn Nets” spelled in Hebrew.
Avdija said in a postgame press conference that he had been surprised to see the arena sold out and that the energy reminded him of the Menora arena when he played for Maccabi Tel Aviv.
“I haven’t fully processed it yet,” he said about the significance of having three Israelis on the court. “It’s tough that many people from Israel couldn’t come because of the war. I hope everyone is okay. Representing on the biggest stage — it’s emotional for me and for many others. One of the most fun nights I’ve had.”
Saraf, too, said the game was a highlight for him.
“A very emotional night. It’s too bad that we lost, but it’s bigger than that. The number of Jewish and Israeli fans here — when Deni was introduced, the whole crowd stood up. Every basket, it was emotional for me, for Danny Wolf, for everyone. It was a big event.”
He added, “Three Israelis on the court at the same time was something very special.”
It is possible that the trio represents not just all of the Israeli citizens but all of the Jews currently playing in the NBA. A fourth player was reportedly exploring converting to Judaism, but he has not publicly disclosed whether he completed a conversion.
The previous record for number of Israelis in an NBA game was two. It came on Oct. 30, 2023, when Omri Casspi and the Houston Rockets played the Dallas Mavericks and Gal Mekel, whom the Mavs had recently picked up, made his debut with the team. They were the first and second Israelis in the NBA.
The game also appears to tie the league record for the number of Jews in a single game, set on Nov. 10, 1953. In that game, Dolph Schayes scored 11 points for the Syracuse Nationals, while Irv Bemoras and Red Holzman both took the court for the Milwaukee Hawks.
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Louis Theroux’s Netflix documentary on the manosphere takes a detour into antisemitism
“LOUIS IS A DIRTY J-E-W.”
This comment features during Inside the Manosphere, a new Netflix documentary from Louis Theroux, during a conversation between Theroux and podcaster Myron Gaines, host of Fresh and Fit Podcast.
It’s not the only time someone calls Theroux a Jew; Harrison Sullivan imitates Theroux, tenting his fingers conspiratorially and leering as he says the documentarian “just sat there with his Jew fingers.”
Theroux, however, is not Jewish. He has also made several edgy documentary specials for the BBC interviewing extremist settler groups in Israel, which have received acclaim from Israel’s critics and hostility from its supporters. And either way, the focus on Theroux’s supposed Jewishness seems off topic for a documentary on the manosphere, the generalized term for the world of podcasters, YouTubers and online streamers who cater to men.
The manosphere includes both mainstream creators like Joe Rogan as well as extremists like Andrew Tate, who was arrested in Romania for sex trafficking. Most creators in this world are anti-LGBTQ and endorse traditional gender roles, often familiar stuff about how women should be the primary caregivers for children and men should be breadwinners. Sometimes, however, on the fringes of this world, there are more extreme beliefs, like that women should not have the right to vote or need to be hit as a form of discipline by men; there are even open endorsements of rape.
Theroux spends most of the documentary talking to a few of the more extreme figures in the manosphere, including Gaines, the streamer Sneako, and Sullivan, who goes by the cringe handle of HSTikkyTokky. He follows them to their gyms, meets their girlfriends and watches as they produce content, largely by accosting people — mostly young women — on the street to slut-shame them. He speaks to the adoring young men who greet them in public. He gently asks follow-up questions, such as whether they all hate women. (The content creators, to a man, insist they love women, offering as proof their desire to have sex with as many of them as possible.) He wonders aloud whether young men can actually make any money off of the get-rich-quick courses hawked by many of the manosphere influencers.
Still, none of this obviously connects to antisemitism. The manosphere generally directs its ire at women, not Jews. Why, then, was Theroux accused — because it is, clearly, an accusation — of being a Jew?
In the current world of online extremism, it can sometimes be difficult to draw connections between different extremist ideologies. There’s not a clear throughline between antisemitism and the violent misogyny of, say, incel, (involuntary celibate) forums. Nor is there an obvious connection between the pseudoscientific skepticism of the anti-vax world and hatred of Jews. And giving disillusioned young men advice on how to be more manly and succeed in the world — or at least grifting off of their desire to do so — has little to do with Jews.
But for the most part, the main reason antisemitism springs up in the manosphere or in other extremist spaces is simply because it, too, is an extremist belief, and beliefs on the fringes tend to bleed into each other. There are sometimes distorted ideas that can connect the two, like an offshoot of the age-old antisemitic conspiracy theory that Jews control world governments, which feeds into some anti-vax groups who believe that Jews are unleashing secret poison in the form of vaccines. But once you’ve decided one crazy thing is true, like that women are biologically only suited to be the property of men, so many other seemingly crazy things start sounding just as reasonable.
The comment about Theroux being a Jew came when he objected to a bit of pseudoscience Gaines presented during Fresh and Fit Podcast, asserting that women retain DNA from every man they’ve had sex with, genetic material they then pass on to children they have with a different partner. Theroux called this misinformation — because it is — and users in the chat trashed him by calling him a Jew.
Later in the documentary, Sneako gave an unprompted rant on camera about the Antichrist, Satanic symbols on magazines in a store window and the “one world government” causing it all, which, the influencer says, was started by the Rothschilds. Theroux finally pushed on the antisemitism.
“Is it Jewish in character?” he asked. “Because that does have some of the hallmarks of an antisemitic conspiracy theory.”
Sneako denied that a Rothschild-run world government had anything to do with Jews. But plenty of other influencers — including, outside the documentary, Sneako himself — have been more open. “Fuck the Jews,” HSTikkyTokky chants in a clip. In others, manosphere creators blame Jews for “feminism,” “homosexuality,” and “vibrations that are going to negatively bring you down.”
Theroux’s signature mild British mien allows him to blandly ask questions and let the influencers say whatever they want and allows the audience to observe alongside him.
He does little to explain either the antisemitism or the misogyny. That’s a strength; conspiracy theories do not operate by logic, and trying to force them into a rational framework can backfire, allowing proponents to proffer their own evidence, however faulty.
Antisemitism is an age-old hatred. Misogyny is nothing new either. That’s all they have in common. But as Inside the Manosphere shows, that’s enough for both to spread.
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