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Ukrainian Jewish life has always taken place in Russian. Now a race to translate is underway.
LVIV, Ukraine (JTA) – The rabbis sat around a breakfast table, discussing Russia’s war on the country where they work in a mixture of Yiddish, Hebrew and Russian. They named their hometowns as Lugansk, Lvov and Dnepr, the Russian names for Ukrainian cities that have vaulted into international headlines since Russia invaded Ukraine in February.
Although they were focused on Ukraine’s progress in the fighting, the rabbis uttered not a single word in Ukrainian. How could they? Like the vast majority of Jews in Ukraine, none of them speaks the country’s official language.
Russian has long been the first language for a wide swath of Ukrainians, including the majority of the country’s Jews. But after the Russian invasion, many Ukrainians decided they wanted to speak less Russian and more Ukrainian. Many Jews, similarly horrified by the sight of thousands of Russian soldiers pouring over Ukraine’s borders and wishing to demonstrate their Ukrainian bonafides, have made the same choice — even as it means disrupting a long linguistic tradition.
So when the rabbis’ successors meet for pancakes and sour cream, they will be far more likely to introduce themselves as the rabbis of Luhansk, Lviv and Dnipro, the Ukrainian names for their hometowns that have become the standard in English. They will also likely be able to hand their students and congregants Ukrainian-language versions of central Jewish texts that simply do not exist now.
“Many of my friends say that they are embarrassed to use Russian as a language. They say that we are Ukrainian Jews, and that Russia is a terrorist country fighting us and that we shouldn’t use their language,” said Rabbi Meir Stambler, from Dnipro. “Others say that [Russian president Vladimir] Putin doesn’t own the Russian language. It is an issue.”
He added, “This is something that people are discussing all the time.”
A decade ago, half of Ukrainians said they spoke Russian as their native language. That number has declined to 20%, fueled in part by resentment over Russia’s aggressions in Crimea, a contested region that it annexed by force in 2014. But Jews have remained predominantly Russian-speaking, even in parts of western Ukraine where Ukrainian has long been the dominant language. (Russian and Ukrainian are related linguistically, but their speakers cannot understand each other.)
Russia’s war on Ukraine has Ukrainian Jews playing catchup. Stambler, who heads the Federation of Jewish Communities, a body affiliated with the Hasidic Chabad-Lubavitch movement that operates a network of 36 synagogues around Ukraine, offers a stark prediction: “Within 10 years, every Jew in Ukraine will speak Ukrainian.”
The dominance of Russian among Ukraine’s Jews, who numbered in the tens of thousands before the war, has deep roots.
“The historical trajectory of Jews in what is now Ukraine led them in the 19th century to adopt Russian rather than Ukrainian,” says historian Natan Meir, a professor of Judaic studies at Portland State University. “That was because Ukrainian was perceived as a peasant language that did not have any high culture associated with it, and because there were no economic advantages to adopting Ukrainian at the time.”
Now, the upside of switching to Ukrainian — demonstrating a national allegiance during a time of war — couldn’t be clearer.
“Jews feel quite integrated into Ukrainian society, but a shift, even if it is a gradual shift, to Ukrainian is going to make that more tangible than ever,” Meir said, calling the Russian invasion “absolutely game-changing” for Ukrainian Jews. “They will be perceived even more strongly than they have been as being wholly Ukrainian and part of the fabric of Ukrainian society.”
Most Ukrainian Jews, especially those educated since the collapse of the Soviet Union, can now speak some Ukrainian. But their ability often depends on where they grew up: Many Jews in traditionally Russophone cities such as Odesa, Dnipro or Kharkiv can struggle with the language, while their grandparents often cannot speak it at all.
Books in both Hebrew and Russian sit on a bookshelf at Medzhybizh. (Jacob Judah)
“Not more than 20% were Ukrainian-speaking at home,” says Stambler. “Take President [Volodymyr] Zelensky. He knew Ukrainian, but he didn’t speak it at home, and he had to polish it up when he became president.”
It will not be simple for the Jewish community to suddenly switch to Ukrainian, the most widely spoken European language without a standardized translation of the Torah.
Two years ago, a team of translators working in Israel, Austria and Hungary began working to produce Ukrainian-language Jewish texts. But before the Russian invasion, the effort had so far produced only a Ukrainian book of psalms, or tehillim.
In May, two months into the war, a decision was made to accelerate work on a daily prayer book. A Torah could follow.
“The chumash is difficult,” said Stambler, who oversees the half-dozen-strong team of translators from his base in Dnipro, using the Hebrew word for the printed form of the Torah. “We are working on it.”
While translating sacred texts can take years, other changes have come faster. The leaflets, brochures and calendars that are a fixture at any Jewish center in Ukraine were quickly swapped out Russian for Ukrainian, at least at the federation’s headquarters. Before February, these had often been produced and printed by Russian Jewish communities and shared with those in Ukraine, for simplicity’s sake.
“This differentiation from Russian Jewry is going to be huge,” said Meir, the historian. “Up until this point they have essentially formed one linguistic and cultural space that all Jews, whether they were in Ukraine, Russia or Belarus could move freely between.”
Now, the ties between those communities are both logistically complicated to maintain — trade routes have been ruptured — and also potentially a liability at a time when anyone in either Russia or Ukraine showing an affinity for the other country can face suspicion or penalties.
“This shift, if it actually happens, is going to be marking out a totally new cultural space for Ukrainian Jews and almost a declaration of independence,” Meir said “Or at least that is the aspiration, because there is so much of their heritage which is still based in the Russian language that it is going to be a long time before they can fully separate.”
That separation process, which began to take shape most clearly after 2014, has quickened. “We started doing things ourselves,” said Stambler. “We used to do about 20% in Ukrainian for the Jews in western towns like Lviv, Ivano-Frankivsk and Uzhhorod, but we are making a much stronger push now.”
He estimates that some 75% of material being distributed to Ukrainian Jewish communities by the Federation of Jewish Communities was in Ukrainian by September, up from 20% to 35% in January.
Young rabbis who come from the United States or Israel to serve small Jewish communities across Ukraine now say that they have had to add Ukrainian alongside their Russian classes.
“I began with Russian,” said one of those rabbis who works in Vinnitsya, until he decided over the summer that he had to learn Ukrainian. “I realized that I had to learn Ukrainian because I needed it on the street. I needed it to speak with the government and with the media.”
Signs in a synagogue in Ukraine are written in both Ukrainian and Russian. (Jacob Judah)
Some Ukrainian Jews are voting with their voices.
“My whole life, I spoke only Russian,” said Olha Peresunko, who before the war lived in Mikolaiv in southern Ukraine. “But after the 24th of February I am speaking only Ukrainian.”
Peresunko was speaking outside a Lviv synagogue this fall, where she and other refugees were waiting for food parcels. She had fled Mikolaiv, which has sustained repeated assault by Russian troops, for Lviv with her mother and two children while her husband is on the frontlines.
Her children are finding it hard to adjust to the exclusive Ukrainian environment in Lviv, but she is confident that they will make the shift. “They will speak Ukrainian as their first language,” Peresunko said.
Exactly how much the shift to Ukrainian will change local Jewish communities is a matter of debate. Rabbi Shalom Gopin, who fled to Kyiv in 2014 from his home community in Luhansk, an overwhelmingly Russophone city seized by Russia-backed separatists at that time, said he, too, believes that Ukrainian will displace Russian as the lingua franca of Ukrainian Jewry.
A Ukrainian woman displays her Ukrainian-language Jewish calendar as a source of pride, September 2022. (Jacob Judah)
“They are starting to slowly speak Ukrainian,” he said. “It is no problem. There are lots of Jews in America who speak English. We live here, and we speak the languages of the places that we live. It is normal.”
But Gopin said the linguistic shift “means nothing” amid other issues facing Jews in Ukraine, where Russia’s war is threatening to undo 30 years of Jewish community building, largely though not exclusively led by Chabad, Gopin’s Orthodox movement.
“The problem for the Jews of Ukraine is not language,” he said. “It is about how much they are going to synagogue, or how many children are going to Jewish schools, not about what they are speaking.”
Natalia Kozachuk, 45, a Jewish businesswoman in Lviv, sees only upside to shedding Russian, her native language. She has started to speak to her children only in Ukrainian.
“It will be hugely positive if Jews speak more Ukrainian,” Kozachuk said. This is the only way that Jews can truly “learn more about the Ukrainian people,” she said, “about their history and the positive qualities and strengths of Ukraine.”
“Only good can come of it,” she added. “We will understand each other better.”
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Beijing Tells Chinese Firms to Stop Using US and Israeli Cybersecurity Software, Sources Say
US President Donald Trump and Chinese President Xi Jinping talk as they leave after a bilateral meeting at Gimhae International Airport, on the sidelines of the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) summit, in Busan, South Korea, Oct. 30, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Evelyn Hockstein
Chinese authorities have told domestic companies to stop using cybersecurity software made by roughly a dozen firms from the US and Israel due to national security concerns, two people briefed on the matter said.
As trade and diplomatic tensions flare between China and the US and both sides vie for tech supremacy, Beijing has been keen to replace Western-made technology with domestic alternatives.
The US companies whose cybersecurity software has been banned include Broadcom-owned VMware, Palo Alto Networks and Fortinet, while the Israeli companies include Check Point Software Technologies, the sources said.
Shares of Broadcom and Palo Alto Networks were down more than 1% in premarket trading, while those of Fortinet fell nearly 3%.
Reuters was not able to establish how many Chinese companies received the notice that the sources said was issued in recent days.
Chinese authorities expressed concern that the software could collect and transmit confidential information abroad, the sources said. They declined to be named due to the sensitivity of the situation.
China’s internet regulator, the Cyberspace Administration of China, and the Ministry of Industry and Information Technology had not responded to requests for comment at the time of publication. The four companies also did not reply to Reuters queries.
PREPARATIONS ARE UNDERWAY FOR TRUMP VISIT
The United States and China, which have been locked in an uneasy trade truce, are preparing for a visit by US President Donald Trump to Beijing in April.
Even before Trump’s return to power at the start of last year, the politics around foreign cybersecurity vendors has long been fraught.
While the West and China have clashed over China’s efforts to build up its semiconductor and artificial intelligence sectors, Chinese analysts have said Beijing has become increasingly concerned that any Western equipment could be hacked by foreign powers.
It has therefore sought to replace Western computer equipment and word processing software.
The country’s largest cybersecurity providers include 360 Security Technology and Neusoft.
Some of the US and Israeli companies facing a ban for their part have repeatedly alleged Chinese hacking operations, which China has denied.
Last month, Check Point published a report on an allegedly Chinese-linked hacking operation against an unidentified “European government office.” In September, Palo Alto published a report alleging a Chinese hacking effort targeted diplomats worldwide.
SIGNIFICANT CHINESE FOOTPRINT
The companies have built a significant footprint in China over the years.
Fortinet has three offices in mainland China and one in Hong Kong, according to its website. Check Point’s website lists support addresses in Shanghai and Hong Kong. Broadcom lists six China locations, while Palo Alto lists five local offices in China, including one in Macau.
Cybersecurity firms are often staffed with intelligence veterans, they typically work closely with their respective national defense establishments, and their software products have sweeping access to corporate networks and individual devices – all of which at least theoretically provides a springboard for spying or sabotage, analysts say.
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Strong start for Virginia’s first Yiddish culture festival
It’s not every day that you encounter a man in a Stetson hat singing Yiddish folksongs in the former capital of the Confederacy.
Yet that wasn’t the most unexpected thing this reporter experienced over Richmond Yiddish Week’s opening weekend. The grassroots Yiddish cultural festival, which began on Saturday, got off to an energetic, well-attended start.
The festival’s opening concert, a double billing of local klezmer bands The Vulgar Bulgars and My Son The Doctor, took place Saturday night at Gold Lion Community Café, an art-space in Richmond’s up-and-coming Manchester neighborhood.
Even before the concert began, the venue was standing-room only. “This is clearly the place to be in Manchester tonight,” remarked one attendee as he squeezed into a seat.
Before the first set, festival co-founder Sam Shokin addressed the audience, expressing her delight at the large turnout. “We weren’t sure how many like-minded people we were going to find for a Yiddish culture festival,” she said, “but judging by the crowd it seems like there are a lot of you.” Her remark elicited enthusiastic applause.
Thirty minutes into the first set, the space was so crowded that service staff had difficulty delivering customers’ food and drink orders to the tables. At least one woman gave up waiting in line to place her order until the break between sets.
The Vulgar Bulgars opened with several tightly harmonized and adventurously arranged klezmer instrumentals. Local singer Nina Lankin then joined in for a power ballad-esque and refreshingly non-maudlin rendition of the Yiddish theater classic Papirosn (Cigarettes).
She and the band also shined with a heartfelt rendition of the messianic Yiddish song Shnirele Perele (Ribbons and Pearls). Between sets, as attendees reordered food and drinks, this reporter had a chance to speak with a few attendees.
“I’ve been here for three years or so,” Rachel Enders, a local preschool teacher who told me she’s Catholic, said. “But I had no idea there was this big, vibrant Jewish community here.”
Festival co-founder Danny Kraft said that the local community has some “conservative and insular” tendencies. But at a time when many Jewish communities are retreating into explicitly Jewish spaces, the organizers of RYW chose more public venues for their programming. The local Jewish Federation lent support by funding security. One of Shokin’s and Kraft’s stated goals was to “bring some Yiddishkayt into the local arts community.”
Maribel Moheno — a language instructor at a local university who recently discovered her Jewish ancestry — was the first to start dancing. The rest of the audience got on their feet and joined Moheno during the second set. That set, played by My Son The Doctor, was less polished or interestingly arranged, but far more danceable.
Having finished the circle dance called a freylekhs with Moheno and a dozen or so others, this reporter refueled with a bagel made by local bakery Cupertino’s NY Bagels. It wasn’t bad. Also on offer was an unexpected soft drink called Palestine Cola.
As it turns out, the Gold Lion cafe has, like many such establishments of late, hosted pro-Palestine events. After some community members expressed concern about the festival being held there, the organizers explained that the festival had no stance vis-à-vis Israel-Palestine.
“People on both the left and the right who don’t know much about Yiddish think it’s synonymous with queer, anti-Zionist culture,” Kraft said. “That’s very reductive. Some people in the mainstream community saw this Yiddish event as a dog-whistle or code-word for anti-Zionism. Once we clarified this with the local Federation, that cleared the air a bit.”
“This is a week of celebrating Yiddishkeit,” said Shokin. “We’re focusing on arts and culture — politics, not so much.”
Despite this shturem in a glezl tey (tempest in a teacup), the opening concert had more than 100 people in attendance. Young families with toddlers and tweens mingled with elegantly dressed retirees, long-haired baby boomers, and 20- and 30-something hipsters.
The evening closed out with two lively songs that the audience joined in for: Ale Brider (We’re All Brothers), a popular anthem about Jewish unity, and the Yiddish birthday song Tsu Dayn Geburtstog in honor of an audience member’s birthday.
On Sunday afternoon, the Richmond Public Library’s main branch hosted a Yiddish story time event, which Kraft, who is also a poet and Yiddish translator, led. More than a dozen young families attended.
The program began with a brief Yiddish lesson. Kraft, himself the father of a toddler, then regaled children and parents with the unique Yiddish-Spanish-English picture book Beautiful Yetta: the Yiddish Chicken, using the book’s dialogue to teach more Yiddish phrases.
One high point of the afternoon was an interactive game called “Guess the Animal” where the audience learned the Yiddish terms for familiar animals, including the non-kosher khazer (pig), which got plenty of laughs.
A lot of Yiddish programming today tends to be adult-focused, often geared toward retirees. So a Yiddish festival for children and young parents seems like an expression of hope for Yiddish continuity — a leap of faith, even. Yet despite a small budget and all-volunteer staff, Kraft and Shokin seem to have stuck the landing.
The post Strong start for Virginia’s first Yiddish culture festival appeared first on The Forward.
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UK Prosecutors Try to Reinstate Terrorism Charge Against Kneecap Rapper
Member of Kneecap Liam O’Hanna, also known as Liam Og O hAnnaidh and performing under the name of Mo Chara, speaks to supporters outside Woolwich Crown Court, after a UK court threw out his prosecution for a terrorism offense, in London, Britain, Sept. 26, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Hannah McKay
British prosecutors sought to reinstate a terrorism charge against a member of Irish rap group Kneecap on Wednesday for displaying a flag of Iran-backed Lebanese terrorist group Hezbollah at a London gig, after a court threw out the case last year.
Liam Óg Ó hAnnaidh, whose stage name is Mo Chara, was accused of having waved the flag of the banned Islamist group Hezbollah during a November 2024 gig.
The charge was thrown out in September after a court ruled it had originally been brought without the permission of the Director of Public Prosecutions and the Attorney General, and also one day outside the six-month statutory limit.
But the Crown Prosecution Service said it would challenge the ruling and its lawyer Paul Jarvis told London’s High Court on Wednesday that permission was only required by the time Ó hAnnaidh first appeared in court, meaning the case can proceed.
Kneecap – known for their politically charged lyrics and anti-Israel activism – have said the case is an attempt to distract from what they described as British complicity in Israel’s so-called “genocide” in Gaza. Israel strongly denies committing a genocide in the coastal territory, where it launched a military campaign against Hamas after the Palestinian terrorist group invaded Israeli territory.
J.J. Ó Dochartaigh, who goes by DJ Próvaí, was in court but Ó hAnnaidh was not required to attend and was not present.
KNEECAP SAYS PROSECUTION A DISTRACTION
Ó hAnnaidh was charged in May with displaying the Hezbollah flag in such a way that aroused reasonable suspicion that he supported the banned group, after footage emerged of him holding the flag on stage while saying “Up Hamas, up Hezbollah.”
Kneecap have previously said the flag was thrown on stage during their performance and that they “do not, and have never, supported Hamas or Hezbollah.”
The group, who rap about Irish identity and support the republican cause of uniting Northern Ireland with the Republic of Ireland, have become increasingly vocal about the war in Gaza, particularly after Ó hAnnaidh was charged in May.
During their performance at June’s Glastonbury Festival in England, Ó hAnnaidh accused Israel of committing war crimes, after Kneecap displayed pro-Palestinian messages during their set at the Coachella Festival in California in April.
Kneecap have since been banned from Hungary and Canada, also canceling a tour of the United States due to a clash with Ó hAnnaidh’s court appearances.