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Why an exhibit that honors the Oct. 7 hostages still draws crowds in the U.S., even after their release
When I traveled to Chicago recently to tour the Nova Music Festival Exhibition, I expected to find it nearly empty. More than two years have passed since Oct. 7, 2023. All the living hostages have been returned home, and only one hostage’s remains are still being held in Gaza. I figured people were done revisiting the horrors, and ready to move on.
I was wrong. In Chicago, 1,200 visitors had purchased tickets for that day alone. This traveling exhibition, which uses actual objects from the Nova festival grounds to reconstruct the scene of the attacks, has been drawing massive crowds since it opened in Tel Aviv in December 2023.
By the time it reached Chicago after stops in New York, Los Angeles, Miami, Boston, Washington, D.C., Berlin and Toronto, more than 500,000 people had already passed through its doors. And the crowds continue to visit. The exhibition’s website announces, “new cities coming soon,” even as the events of October 7 recede into the background.
When my Uber pulled up to the exhibition — held in a warehouse — I saw lines of people, police cars, and security personnel. What were all these people doing here, I wondered?
The question wasn’t idle. I had my own doubts about what had drawn me. Was it morbid curiosity? Perhaps a voyeuristic urge? Beyond these unsettling questions, accusations from protesters who had demonstrated outside the June 2024 New York installation had gotten into my head. They had tried to shut down the exhibition there, calling it “apartheid apologia,” designed to justify Israel’s war on Gaza. Were they right?
I recoiled from each of these explanations but still could not pinpoint what exactly had motivated me to visit this re-creation of the site where so many people had met their brutal ends. It took two hours of walking through the installation, moving from one area to the next, to understand.
Why Hamas is absent
The exhibition begins in a small, dark holding room where visitors gather before entering the main space. A large wall panel provides the barest introduction to orient the viewer. After a long night of intense music, dancing and revelry — the text reads — just as the sun was coming up over the horizon, the rave party was shattered when the “Angel of Death” swooped in, firing a barrage of missiles, which were precursors to the “inconceivable horror” that was soon to follow.
Referring to the attackers as “The Angel of Death” matters. From these very first words, the story turns away from naming the perpetrators. Hamas is absent, as is any wider political context. That absence speaks for itself. This exhibition does not weigh in on Israel’s actions after Oct. 7. Its focus, instead, lies solely on the experiences of those who were abused, terrorized, kidnapped, and killed.
Passing through heavy drapery, visitors enter the festival grounds in the early hours of Oct. 7. Sand is spread underfoot, and small tents are strewn across the landscape. Yoga mats, sweaty T-shirts, flip-flops, cereal boxes and other personal belongings litter the ground. Burned-out cars and bullet-ridden porta-potties mark failed hiding places. Cigarettes and empty bottles lie scattered at the bar, as though party-goers were present just moments before.
Objects alone cannot tell the whole story; Screens scattered through the wreckage reveal the unfolding terror. Some mounted on stands, and others glowing inside the tents or dangling on wires play videos on a loop. One woman hiding between bushes, speaks into her own camera, “I’m filming so that later there will be a video of all this.” Another captured himself huddled with others in a trash bin.
More footage comes from the Go Pro cameras of the terrorists themselves. Taken from a pickup truck zigzagging across the road, one of these recordings shows terrified people running, trying to escape. Some are shot and collapse to the ground as the vehicle speeds past.
Additional screens feature survivor testimonies. One tells how her husband took a fatal bullet so she could flee, another lived by keeping cover beneath dead bodies.
This recounting represents what unfolded that day. At the Nova festival alone over 400 were killed, and 43 were kidnapped. What popularly came to be referred to as a single attack, fractured into thousands of separate experiences, each person caught by surprise, and left to confront the terror on their own. The confusion is conveyed through the disorienting structure of the exhibit itself. Visitors are not given a clear route through the space, or directions about where to look first and then next. Nor do we progress as a group. I am among strangers and without a guide, leaving each of us to absorb the fragments of horror in our own way.
Then comes the pivot. Visitors turn a corner, and the exhibition shifts to a tightly organized space that directs viewers along a deliberate path. A map marks where each festival-goer met their fate. No longer immersed inside the horror, we now see its larger shape. After the map, rows of tables are arranged, holding neat piles of folded sweatshirts, lines of eyeglasses, and carefully arranged pairs of shoes. No labels explain, and none are needed. It’s clear that these personal items are the pieces picked up after the massacre, sorted by volunteers who handled each with care.
Order in the aftermath
Now I am beginning to understand. Walking through the disorienting chaos was necessary to appreciate the ways in which order is made in the aftermath. Not only through collecting and tending to the objects left behind, but to the affected people as well. A wall display shows photos of the 44 hostages taken from Nova, with a message that the “Nova Community” holds all “their pain, their courage and their hope.”
In fact, the more than 3,000 revelers who attended the Nova rave were not a community at all. They came from different backgrounds, from all over the country and abroad, with no prior connection to one another. But the survivors, the bereaved, and the families of the kidnapped have gathered in the aftermath under the auspices of “The Tribe of Nova Foundation,” to offer each other support. Established by the festival’s producers immediately after the attack, the foundation provides therapy, healing services, and memorial events, all needed even now after the ceasefire.
Exiting the last dark portion of the exhibit, we walk beside a long board laid out on the floor, arranged with memorial candles and hundreds of notes written by fellow visitors. Most echo the installation’s message: “Wrapping you in love.” “Remembering all those who lost their lives and who are still healing,” and “We will dance again.”
But one hand-scrawled message breaks through: “Fuck Hamas.”
This stops me. Not because I don’t share the rage — I do. But the sentiment feels jarring here, disrupting a sense of sanctity whose contours are fully revealed in the final room.
Here, black drapes and heavy shadows give way to earth tones, warm lights, jute carpets, and macramé lanterns. Small coffee tables and wicker chairs are arranged around the space, as though we have entered a living room. Having left the horrors of Oct. 7 behind, this is a room for the living. It is also a shiva — a ritual space where visitors sit with mourners and let them speak.
People take seats, facing a Nova survivor who is regularly present at the front of the room. Articulate and composed, she begins with photos of her best friend whom she lost in the attack, and ends with a story of her own survival, and a message of not taking life for granted.
Here, the hesitations and doubts I carried into the exhibition fall away. I now understand what brought me here, and why so many others have come. It is not morbid curiosity, nor propaganda meant to justify war. It is the need to sit shiva. This space draws its power from gathering and caring for the scattered objects, and from bringing the bereaved together to witness, mourn, and remember.
The Nova Exhibition is a contemporary phenomenon, employing modern technology and immersive design to respond to contemporary trauma. Yet it draws on ancient traditions of telling and listening to stories, sitting together, gathering what was scattered, and working to stitch ourselves whole again. This cultural work remains relevant even now — more than two years later, with nearly all hostages home and bodies laid to rest. The exhibition will travel to new cities, and it should. Grief continues to unfold, and mourning takes time.
The post Why an exhibit that honors the Oct. 7 hostages still draws crowds in the U.S., even after their release appeared first on The Forward.
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Nobel Laureate Mohammadi in Iran Hospital After ‘Cardiac Crisis,’ Foundation Says
A picture of Nobel Peace Prize winner Narges Mohammadi on the wall of the Grand Hotel in central Oslo before the Nobel banquet, in connection with the awarding of the Nobel Peace Prize 2023, in Oslo, Norway December 10, 2023. Photo: NTB/Javad Parsa via REUTERS/File Photo
Nobel Peace Prize winner Narges Mohammadi was in an unstable condition in an Iranian hospital on Saturday after she was taken there from prison following a catastrophic deterioration of her health, a foundation run by her family said.
The secretary of the Norwegian Nobel Committee, which awarded Mohammadi the 2023 prize, had expressed concern on Thursday that the condition of the Iranian human rights activist was worsening after she had suffered a heart attack in prison.
Mohammadi, in her 50s, won the prize while in prison for her campaign to advance women’s rights and abolish the death penalty in Iran.
The Narges Mohammadi Foundation said in a statement on its website on Friday that she had been “urgently transferred to a hospital in Zanjan today following a catastrophic deterioration of her health, including two episodes of complete loss of consciousness and a severe cardiac crisis.”
This transfer was an “unavoidable necessity after prison doctors determined her condition could not be managed on-site,” it said.
In an update on Saturday, the foundation said she remained in an unstable condition receiving oxygen. It called for her to be transferred to a hospital in Tehran for tests and specialized treatment.
Reuters could not independently confirm her condition.
Mohammadi was sentenced to a new prison term of 7-1/2 years, the foundation said in February, weeks before the US and Israel launched their war against Iran. The Nobel committee at the time called on Tehran to free her immediately.
She was arrested in December after denouncing the death of a lawyer, Khosrow Alikordi; prosecutor Hasan Hematifar told reporters then she had made provocative remarks at Alikordi’s memorial ceremony.
On Friday morning, Mohammadi fainted after days of dangerously high blood pressure and severe nausea, the foundation said. After multiple bouts of vomiting, she blacked out and was moved to the prison medical unit for emergency intravenous fluids.
The activist, who has undergone three angioplasty procedures, faces a “direct and immediate” threat to her right to life, her family said. “We call for all charges to be dropped immediately and for all sentences imposed for her peaceful human rights work to be unconditionally annulled.”
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Is supporting peace illegal in Israel? A shocking arrest carries a warning
A Jewish man is wearing his kippah at a local café when an angry customer accosts him. The kippah is against the law, the man is told; the other customer calls the police.
Within minutes, officers arrive. They confiscate the Jewish man’s belongings, and place him in a cell without water for around 20 minutes. He is not allowed to call his wife. Near release, the officers threaten to put him back in the cell if he does not leave the station without his kippah.
The man refuses. And so an officer of the law takes a blade to the man’s sacred religious symbol. “She’d taken my possession, a religious ritual object, something that is very dear to my heart, and destroyed it,” the man said.
This was not Europe in the 1930s. It was Israel in 2026. And it all happened because Alex Sinclair, 53, had a Palestinian flag embroidered onto his kippah.
That Sinclair is a Zionist — his kippah also featured an Israeli flag — meant little to his fellow citizen, or to the police, who have taken an increasingly authoritarian tack against Palestinian symbols.
Israeli censorship of innocuous political expression isn’t new, especially for Palestinian citizens of Israel. But the egregious case of a Palestinian flag being cut off of Sinclair’s kippah shows the predictable consequences for Jews of policies that repress others’ speech in our name. A government that lets officers cut a Jew’s kippah is taking a page out of the playbook of antisemites by defining what it means to be a good Jew who gets to live freely in society
A kippah built for complexity
Sinclair is a Jewish education lecturer at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. His 2013 book Loving the Real Israel: An Educational Agenda for Liberal Zionism — a finalist for a National Jewish Book Award — argues that Jewish education should be built around principles including complexity, conversation and empowerment.
He has spent his career insisting that you can love a country honestly only if you confront its flaws. As part of that effort, he has worn a kippah bearing both an Israeli and a Palestinian flag for nearly 20 years.
“The reasons behind the kippah are long and complex,” he wrote on Facebook after his detention, “and related to the messy ambivalence of my Jewish-Zionist identity.”
The kippah was, in part, his way of expressing his religious commitment without being folded into assumptions about what a kippah-wearing Jew stands for politically.
His wearing of it has sometimes sparked meaningful reactions from other Israelis, especially Palestinians. Once, a cashier in Sinclair’s neighborhood supermarket told him: “Thank you on behalf of all of us.” Another time, the mechanic fixing his flat tire saw the kippah and burst into tears. Among Jews, the kippah acts as necessary friction in a country sometimes desperate to maintain a smooth narrative.
In a 2024 essay called “The Two Most Important Flags for Liberal Jews Today,” Sinclair argued that the dual flags answer extremism from both Hamas and the Israeli right:
“By portraying the Israeli flag and the Palestinian flag together, we show Hamas and other Palestinian terrorists that we will not give up our country and our national identity, but we show potential Palestinian partners that we accept their national identity and wish to live in security, mutual dignity, and peace with them.”
Cutting the Palestinian flag out of Sinclair’s kippah was the state literally cutting complexity out of acceptable Jewish vocabulary.
The gap between what the law is and what it does
What happened to Sinclair was not a case of bad laws so much as police taking matters into their own hands despite the law.
No Knesset law makes the Palestinian flag illegal in Israel. Israeli legal authorities and courts have repeatedly affirmed the Palestinian flag as protected political expression, while allowing police only narrow authority in cases where there is a high probability of a breach of the peace or genuine suspicion that someone identifies with or supports a terrorist organization
Israel once used the power of the state to discipline Jewish radicals. The country’s first anti-terror law, passed in 1948, was directed at Jews. It was used to designate Lehi, a Jewish paramilitary group that assassinated United Nations mediator Folke Bernadotte because his proposed partition plan was seen as too favorable to Arabs. (This despite the fact that the Swedish nobleman’s “White Buses” operations rescued tens of thousands of prisoners, including Jews, from Nazi camps in 1945.)
Now, police contorted the statutory tradition descended from that law against a Jew for the peaceful connotations of his kippah. Politicians and law enforcement whose beliefs are arguably influenced by extremists like Lehi are abusing their power to harass peaceful citizens of the state.
Foremost among them is National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir. In January 2023, days after being sworn in, Ben-Gvir directed the Israeli police to remove “terror-supporting flags” from public spaces — a directive that in practice included the Palestinian flag. Senior police commanders quickly said that the order was not legally sound. None of that has stopped censorship from happening.
The legal-rights organization Adalah has documented at least 645 people arrested for speech-related offenses since the Hamas attack of Oct. 7, 2023. The overwhelming majority of that number are Palestinian citizens of Israel, many of whom were eventually indicted. By contrast, human rights organization Yesh Din has found that nearly 94% of investigations into settler violence against Palestinians in the West Bank have been closed without indictments.
There was never going to be a firewall
It was always naïve to assume that the coercive apparatus used against Palestinians could be cordoned off from the democracy Jews live in.
Unchecked power, as critics like the Orthodox Jewish philosopher Yeshayahu Leibowitz warned, corrodes everything it touches. A state’s abuses undermine democracy for the citizens in whose name they are carried out.
The Israeli right may object that Hamas and its supporters have used the Palestinian flag in hateful contexts, including in imagery surrounding the Oct. 7 massacre and at rallies celebrating Hamas’s attack. (Hamas has its own, separate flag). That’s true, and it helps explain why many Israelis experience the Palestinian flag as threatening.
But just as the Israeli flag does not mean that every Jew who flies it endorses every action of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, the Palestinian flag does not mean that every Palestinian who waves it endorses Hamas. Flags, and nations, contain multitudes. Many Palestinians wave their flag out of a sincere desire for self-determination.
“I, like every Israeli, know people who lost loved ones on Oct. 7 or in the war thereafter,” Sinclair himself said. “Hamas is my enemy: an enemy who seeks my destruction, an enemy who is not interested in coexistence.” His kippah does not pretend otherwise.
If officers had cut a Jew’s kippah in any other country in the world, Israeli MK Gilad Kariv noted last week, “there would have been an uproar here in Israel.” He’s right.
Instead, the Israeli police have publicly described what they did to Alex Sinclair as a “clarification process.” That sounds like the bureaucratic vocabulary of a state that no longer trusts its citizens to exercise their rights and liberties. Following his detention, Sinclair filed a complaint with the Department for Internal Police Investigations. He requested compensation for the kippah and a written commitment that he could walk through Modiin without harassment.
“I’m not holding my breath,” he said.
His assessment is haunting: “If we are looking ahead, oh my God, is this what is in store for us?” The answer, if things continue along these lines, is a government that is increasingly authoritarian, deeply insecure and farcical. Days after Sinclair’s detention, Israeli police seized another suspect flag that was red, green, and white at an anti-Netanyahu protest. It was Hungarian.
The post Is supporting peace illegal in Israel? A shocking arrest carries a warning appeared first on The Forward.
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Iran Expected to Ramp Up Chemical, Biological Weapons Programs
Symbolic mock-ups of Iranian missiles are displayed on a street, amid the US-Israeli conflict with Iran, in Tehran, Iran, March 22, 2026. Photo: Majid Asgaripour/WANA (West Asia News Agency) via REUTERS
Amid sustained international scrutiny of Iran’s nuclear program, missile development, and regional proxy network, new assessments point to a quieter and more troubling front as allegations grow that Tehran may be expanding work related to chemical and biological weapons capabilities.
According to a new report from the Begin-Sadat Center for Strategic Studies at Bar-Ilan University in Israel, the Islamist regime in Iran may be advancing efforts to significantly develop its chemical and biological weapons programs — a move experts warn would pose serious risks not only to Israel but also to the wider region and the Iranian population itself.
Iran’s chemical and biological research programs allegedly focus on a range of toxic agents, including blister agents like mustard gas, nerve agents such as sarin and Novichok, and substances that attack the lungs or blood and can cause suffocation.
These reportedly also include biological threats such as anthrax, ricin, and botulinum toxins, as well as certain viruses, all of which can cause severe illness or death by disrupting the body’s nervous system, organs, or immune response.
Israeli officials have previously warned that the Iranian government has been developing dual-use chemicals, with both civilian and military applications, and may be channeling them to its regional proxy terrorist forces, raising fears they could be used to intensify proxy conflicts and destabilize the wider Middle East.
Tehran is also suspected of having used such agents to help suppress the nationwide anti-government protests earlier this year, which were violently crushed by security forces in a crackdown that left tens of thousands of demonstrators tortured, imprisoned, or killed.
Similar allegations have repeatedly emerged in the past, adding to a wider pattern of reported abuses against civilians and violations of human rights.
According to a report from Iran International, a medical staff member in Karaj said some detainees released during the January protests had reported body aches, lethargy, weakness, loss of appetite, nausea, and vomiting — all symptoms that may indicate possible drug-related poisoning.
Iran first began developing chemical weapons-related capabilities in the 1980s. In recent years, those efforts have reportedly evolved to include pharmaceutical-based agents and other compounds designed for incapacitation or riot control.
US government assessments have indicated for decades that Iran has been researching and developing chemical agents, including anesthetic compounds designed to incapacitate individuals by targeting the central nervous system.
These reports point to Iran’s academic sector playing a key role in this area, with Imam Hossein University and Malek Ashtar University of Technology — military-linked institutions associated with the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps and the Ministry of Defense — reportedly conducting research since at least 2005 into chemical agents designed for incapacitation.
Since the start of the war earlier this year, the Israeli Air Force has carried out sustained strikes targeting sites linked to chemical weapons research, development, and production, aiming to disrupt facilities embedded within Iran’s broader military-industrial infrastructure and associated pharmaceutical-based programs.
Even though Tehran has long denied pursuing chemical or biological weapons and remains a party to the Chemical Weapons Convention, Western governments continue to accuse the regime of violating international norms.