If you are in New York City and struggling with suicidal thoughts, you can call 1-888-NYC-WELL for free and confidential crisis counseling. You can also dial the 24/7 National Suicide Prevention hotline at 988 or go to SuicidePreventionLifeline.org.
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Yeshiva University is left in mourning after a beloved gay alum dies by suicide
(New York Jewish Week) — Before eulogizing their friend on Thursday night, Beth Weiss draped a rainbow flag with a Jewish star over the podium.
It was a potent symbol of the twin identities that Weiss and others who knew Herschel Siegel said he had struggled to reconcile, particularly as a student and 2021 graduate of Yeshiva University. Siegel died by suicide Friday in Atlanta, where he grew up and had been living.
Weiss said during the eulogy they recalled having “a conversation with a gay friend about what it felt like to be queer in the Orthodox world” for the first time with Siegel, a classmate at Y.U., the Modern Orthodox flagship in uptown Manhattan.
“I can’t tell you how invaluable conversations and connections like that are,” Weiss said. “We talked about our dreams for the future, but also the reality of how our future might look because of our queerness.”
Weiss’ comments, delivered at a memorial held on the Y.U. campus and organized by some of Siegel’s friends from college, reflect a narrative solidifying around Siegel’s death. Many believe — based on their conversations with Siegel, his social media posts and their own experiences — that Siegel had considered that there may have been no place for him as a gay man in the Orthodox community where he grew up and attended college.
Even as some in Siegel’s community have downplayed the focus on his sexuality following his death, friends say his suicide should be a wakeup call at a time when Yeshiva University is deeply divided over whether and how to include LGBTQ students. In recent years, the school has fought not to have to recognize an LGBTQ student group, even petitioning the Supreme Court for relief. A trans woman was also told she could no longer pray in a synagogue affiliated with the school.
Weiss told the New York Jewish Week that there are many “Orthodox queer people who are possibly suffering, who feel like they are alone, and who feel like they don’t have a future,” adding, “I know that Herschel felt that way at points in his life because he told me.”
Experts caution that it is a mistake to attribute suicides to single causes. Still, there is no question that LGBTQ youth are at increased risk, particularly when they are not accepted in their communities. According to a 2023 survey by the Trevor Project, a nonprofit focused on suicide prevention in the LGBTQ community, 41% of LGBTQ young people seriously considered attempting suicide in the past year.
Siegel made his struggle transparent. In an Instagram post from March that has circulated widely after his death, he wrote about how the word “abomination” in a Torah portion brought up trauma for him as a gay man within the Orthodox community.
“According to that trauma, my very EXISTENCE as a gay, Jewish, Male was an abomination,” Siegal wrote. “And even decades later, that fear-based thought pattern erupted into my consciousness, at the most unexpected of times.”
He then asked, “Do we ever REALLY heal from the deeply traumatic memories within us? Or is it rather a Journey, like many other emotions, and then we come to realize that one day we are at ease while riding ‘the trauma-coaster’?”
Siegel ended the post on a positive note, sharing gratitude for anyone who “has ever experienced a profoundly traumatizing event within your lives. … The fact that we made it this far is something to be proud of in and of itself!”
He died a month later, on the eve of the Shabbat when the weekly Torah portion includes the Jewish legal prohibition on homosexual intercourse, calling it an “abomination.”
“I think about the bravery, the heroism, the strength of this kid,” said Mordechai Levovitz, a therapist and the clinical director of Jewish Queer Youth, an organization that seeks to support and empower Jewish LGBTQ teens, with a focus on the Orthodox community. “I think any person at all willing to endure a community in a religion that is very cruel to him — and yet sees the value because there is also still value — is someone that I think we can look up to, and that we can learn from, and that we can be inspired by.”
He added, “But also, we can admit and witness and bear the fact that it is because of the community that we created that this kid could not find a future for himself and thought that it would perhaps be better off if he was not here, or if he did not exist.”
Not everyone who has commented on Siegel’s death is connecting it with his sexuality. Rabbi Ilan D. Feldman of Beth Jacob Atlanta, Siegel’s synagogue, wrote an email to the congregation saying that “our thoughts and tefillos [prayers] go out to the Siegel family, whose agony can never be fully fathomed, and who will be embraced and supported by us, their community.” Siegel is survived by his parents and five siblings.
Feldman presided over a funeral on Sunday that people who were present said was attended by about 200 people, with more than 450 tuning in on Zoom. Levovitz said that at the funeral, the rabbi referred to Siegel as being “mentally ill.” Mental illness is considered the strongest predictor of suicide.
Feldman told the New York Jewish Week over the phone that “even by reducing this story to a one-dimensional story of a guy who was gay, who committed suicide, we’re actually doing a disservice to gay people.” He also said Siegel’s family is distressed by the narrative, which they believe is untrue.
“The storyline of this particular case is an openly gay person who had wonderful relationships with the entire Orthodox community, including haredi Orthodox leaders,” Feldman said. “And now we’re going take this guy after his death, during his shiva while his family is grieving, and start talking about [how] gays are marginalized and whether this drove him to suicide, when this is the one case where an Orthodox community embraced a gay person with love and with no exceptions.”
But he acknowledged that there is “a big difference between pressures from the Jewish community and pressures from Jewish tradition,” which under Orthodox interpretations does not permit homosexuality.
“If he ever felt pressure, it was relieved by the love that he received in the community, but the pressure may have been there because Jewish tradition is inconsistent with gay activity,” Feldman said.
A source in the Atlanta community who said he had known Siegel since Siegel was a child said Siegel’s death comes on the heels of another suicide in the Atlanta Orthodox community, also of a young person who identified as a member of the LGBTQ community.
“There is a cloud of sadness. People just feel confused and lost. This is the second time in six months,” the source said. “It’s just resonating very hard for people. Young people taking their lives, it’s not supposed to be something that is normal and is regularly happening.”
Hundreds of people attended the funeral for Herschel Siegel last weekend in Atlanta. (Courtesy)
Chaim Nissel, a dean at Yeshiva University who was an associate provost during Siegel’s tenure as a student, spoke at the Thursday night gathering and said he had known Siegel well, and even had the student visit his home. (Nissel was originally named in the lawsuit by the YU Pride Alliance against the university but was dropped after Y.U. argued that he did not have authority over whether the LGBTQ student club was approved.)
“He struggled to reconcile his identity and love of Torah,” Nissel said. “He died from mental illness.”
Yeshiva University had previously released a statement about Siegel’s death.
“We are deeply saddened by the passing of Herschel Siegel, a member of the Yeshiva University family,” the statement said. “We express our deepest condolences to his family. May his memory be a blessing.”
Siegel’s family did not respond to a request for comment. People close to the family said they were too distraught to speak to the press. The source from Atlanta who knew Siegel since he was a child said the family was “angry for the way that this is being spun,” suggesting that Siegel’s sexuality should not be the only focus.
“I do resent anyone that is trying to make this about him being gay,” the source said. “It’s the chicken or the egg situation. Did being gay in the Orthodox community make his depression more triggering, or was it that he was depressed, and felt alone, which made being gay so much harder?”
Even his closest friends say it’s impossible to untangle those forces.
“Herschel struggled with mental illness and struggled with accepting himself as a gay Orthodox man,” said Emily Ornelas, a friend who was close to Siegel when he was at Y.U.
“That’s a reality,” Orneles said. “Gay people in any organized religion struggle with that. But I do wholeheartedly believe that by the end of his life, he had come to terms with and accepted himself and was able to love himself for who he was in whatever capacity he could. I feel that is true.”
Ornelas says she is choosing to remember the many bright spots in her friend’s life, rather than focus solely on trying to identify reasons for his death. She recalled the way he connected with children when the two staffed a Passover retreat, as well as his energy in his many theater performances at Y.U., the way his smile lit up a room.
“I remember that his hugs were absolutely crushing,” Ornelas said. “I think he could have cracked my ribs easily. I remember that when he smiled, he smiled literally with every single one of his teeth. You could probably count them. I can hear his voice. He has a very particular affect to the way he spoke, and I think it was like a tiny bit of a Southern drawl. He was just like a really big part of my life — and all of our lives — for a very long time.”
At the memorial service, Weiss exhorted others who might feel tormented about being gay in an Orthodox community to hold on, despite their pain.
“You are not alone,” they said, holding back tears. “You have a future, and you have people who love and see you fully. You have people who celebrate all the wonderful, beautiful parts of you. And if it feels like you don’t have those people yet, we are here waiting for you with open hearts.”
They then shifted to a “a message to everyone else here with us tonight” — those who identify as allies, and those who are just deeply sad about their friend’s tragic death.
“Be like Herschel,” Weiss said. “Be like Herschel and embrace and love each of us with enthusiasm and with joy. Be like Herschel and see us as the full, valid and nuanced human beings that we are. Be like Herschel, and support us unconditionally. Be like Herschel so that we can continue to be here even though Herschel can’t. And be like Herschel, so that this never ever happens again.”
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What do Germans talk about when they talk about antisemitism?
In today’s Germany, an accusation of antisemitism can end careers, shutter institutions and put political alliances beyond consideration. That gravity is understandable in the country responsible for the Holocaust. What has become less clear, particularly since the Hamas-led attacks on southern Israel on Oct. 7, 2023, and the ensuing war in Gaza, is what Germans mean when they use the word “antisemitism.”
Days before Berliners went to the polls on Sept. 20, Germany’s chancellor Friedrich Merz provided a particularly awkward illustration. At a campaign event for his party, the CDU, Merz called antisemitism “the most perfidious form of xenophobia.” German Jews were quick to point out a glaring problem; they were not foreigners. The contentious IHRA framework officially embraced by Germany stresses that antisemitism and hostility toward foreigners are separate phenomena.
The confusion has become politically consequential since Berlin voted. Die Linke, a democratic socialist party, won 25.7%, more than doubling its 2023 share and finishing nearly seven points ahead of the CDU, which came in at 18.8%. The far-right AfD came third with 16.3%, itself an extraordinary gain of 7.2 points. Yet, since the election, the question consuming German politics has been whether Die Linke is too antisemitic to govern.
Israel’s ambassador, Ron Prosor, described antisemitism within Die Linke as systemic. The Central Council of Jews warned the SPD and Greens against joining a Linke-led coalition. Bavaria’s premier, Markus Söder, called Die Linke “deeply antisemitic.”
Philipp Peyman Engel, editor in chief of the Jüdische Allgemeine, the weekly newspaper of the Central Council of Jews in Germany, distilled the case against Die Linke in Britain’s Jewish Chronicle. The party, he wrote, was “riddled with people who hate Jews and Israel” and represented “the elimination of Israel.” Even voters drawn by rents and social policy had tolerated its hatred of Israel; SPD and Green politicians would forfeit any claim to moral seriousness by governing with it. “No non-Jewish democrat should simply accept this election result either,” he wrote.
That is an extraordinary indictment of a party that just received more votes than any other in the German capital. It is also hard to reconcile with the party that actually exists.
Die Linke does carry unusual historical baggage. It was formed in 2007 from a movement of trade unionists and Social Democrats alienated by Gerhard Schröder’s welfare reforms and the PDS, successor to East Germany’s ruling communist party. The GDR pursued an anti-Zionist foreign policy, strands of which survived reunification; the modern party also absorbed a western anti-imperialist tradition in which hostility toward Israel has at times shaded into antisemitism.
A 2011 analysis published by Germany’s Federal Agency for Civic Education found serious hostility toward Israel in parts of Die Linke but rejected describing the party itself as antisemitic. A year later, Die Linke nominated Beate Klarsfeld — the Nazi hunter who spent decades pursuing German war criminals and famously slapped former Chancellor Kurt Georg Kiesinger over his Nazi past — for the German presidency. She received 126 votes in the Federal Assembly.

Die Linke’s current official position is markedly different from Engel’s characterization in the Jewish Chronicle. At its federal congress in June, Die Linke explicitly affirmed Israeli and Palestinian self-determination and the right of both Israel and Palestine to exist. It passed a separate resolution condemning antisemitism and describing its sharp rise since Oct. 7. While one may regard those positions as inadequate, contradictory or politically naïve, they do not amount to a program for eliminating Israel.
The party that won Berlin last month has changed in other ways as well. Its candidate for mayor, Elif Eralp, a trained lawyer, was born in Munich to Turkish socialist trade unionists who fled the 1980 military coup. Her campaign centered on housing, rent controls and migrant rights, and borrowed consciously from Zohran Mamdani’s campaign in New York; Linke activists even traveled there to meet his advisers.
That helps explain why this election has rattled Germany’s political center. Die Linke is no longer easily dismissed as the residual party of eastern German communism. In Berlin, it has assembled a young, urban and increasingly diverse electorate around an issue — the cost of housing — that the governing parties have conspicuously failed to solve. Unlike the AfD, it also has potential coalition partners. A Linke-SPD-Green government could remove the CDU from power and seek to implement the result of a 2021 referendum, approved by 57.6% of voters, calling for the socialization of large housing companies.
There are nonetheless questions about parts of its Berlin organization, especially in Neukölln. A rapper at a campaign event sang “Yalla Yalla Intifada” and “Death to the IDF.” Ferat Koçak, the district’s Linke Bundestag member, was photographed on election night with Ibrahim Ibrahim, described by Democ, an anti-extremist monitoring group, as a longtime activist with the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, which the EU lists as a terrorist organization. Ibrahim has also been reported to have praised Hamas leader Yahya Sinwar as a “steadfast leader” and “martyr hero.”
Beyond Berlin, a June investigation by Bayerischer Rundfunk into internal forums and chats of Linksjugend, the party’s youth organization, found messages by a spokesman for Die Linke’s youth organization in Rhineland-Palatinate referring to Israeli “concentration camps” and a “genocide in the name of Judaism” and telling Israel to “drop dead!”
Wolfgang Benz, who directed the Center for Research on Antisemitism at Berlin’s Technical University for more than two decades and edited an eight-volume handbook on antisemitism, told the Tagesspiegel that the term Antisemitismus is undergoing an Ausverkauf — an inflationary depletion of its meaning.
“Die Linke is not antisemitic,” he said. Anti-Israel slogans can be crude, denunciatory, even “misanthropic,” without thereby becoming Jew-hatred. His answer when asked whether the chant “Death to the IDF” was antisemitic was no.
In the same interview, Benz also argued that Die Linke’s leadership should deal loudly and decisively with genuinely unacceptable conduct and singled out Bodo Ramelow, who became Linke’s first minister-president in 2014, and Petra Pau, a veteran Linke politician and former Bundestag vice president, as politicians with strong records against antisemitism. Benz’s successor, Stefanie Schüler-Springorum, has likewise called the debate around Die Linke “overblown” and warned that antisemitism is being used to influence coalition formation.
The consequences of collapsing antisemitism and anti-Zionism have extended beyond electoral politics. In Verfassungsblog, an open-access forum on constitutional law and politics, scholars Dörthe Engelcke and Ilyas Saliba documented Palestinian-related events at German universities losing rooms or being canceled, while antisemitism commissioners intervened in debates over terms such as “genocide,” “apartheid” and “settler colonialism.” Berlin’s Jews, meanwhile, are hardly unanimous. An open letter signed by 150 Jewish Berliners, including Susan Neiman, Deborah Feldman and Eva Menasse, accused parts of the media and Jewish community of instrumentalizing antisemitism against Die Linke while the far right advances.
The signatories also point out some obvious facts that, I imagine, tend to get overlooked: that Jews in Berlin pay rent, send children to schools, use hospitals and, like their neighbors, worry about economic insecurity.
Britain’s Labour Party under Jeremy Corbyn offers a cautionary precedent. As genuine failures over antisemitism became entangled with factional warfare, parts of Corbyn’s camp focused so heavily on the political motives behind the accusations that they appeared to minimize the underlying problem. The result was to strengthen the very attacks they regarded as politically motivated. Die Linke would be unwise to repeat that mistake.
Right now, far more than Die Linke’s reputation is on the line. The far-right AfD party won 43.8% in Saxony-Anhalt last month, an increase of 23 percentage points. On the same day Berlin voted, it won 38.2% in Mecklenburg-Western Pomerania, according to preliminary official results, while the CDU fell to 4.9% and disappeared from the state parliament. In Berlin, the AfD rose from 9.1 to 16.3% and finished third.
Those results should provide some perspective on the attempt to establish whether Die Linke’s 25.7% represents an antisemitic rupture in German democracy. Die Linke’s leadership will have to demonstrate that its stated opposition to antisemitism has real-world consequences. But the claim that Jew-hatred is baked into the party itself is unsupported by its program, its history or the records of many of its leading politicians.
What the controversy more clearly reveals is the alarm produced when a party long treated as marginal suddenly wins and becomes capable of leading its government. Antisemitism, the most devastating accusation available in German political language, offers Die Linke’s opponents a means of turning questions about the behavior of certain activists into a referendum on the party’s legitimacy.
Yet while Berlin argues over whether Die Linke is fit to govern, a far-right party with openly ethnonationalist positions and powerful antidemocratic currents, is winning close to 40% in parts of the former East. What’s shocking is that Germany’s political center is devoting its fiercest moral language to the left precisely when the far right is remaking the country’s electoral map.
The post What do Germans talk about when they talk about antisemitism? appeared first on The Forward.
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Jewish federations are losing my generation — and future ones — over Israel and Netanyahu
When my father Norm Gordon was six years old, the Jewish Federation of Cleveland helped rescue him. Recent immigrants from Poland, his parents were already living precariously when his mother died and his father gave him up. The Jewish Children’s Bureau, funded by the JFC, found a home for him and his brothers and kept them all together under one roof. That’s the sort of thing Jewish federations across America were founded to do, going all the way back to the “Stuyvesant Promise” of 1655: pool the resources of Jewish communities to help the helpless. My first jobs were for JFC-funded camps. My mother, a social worker, spent her career working with agencies like Bellefair Jewish Children’s Bureau, funded by JFC. After my father Norm himself died young and my mother married my adoptive father James Ratner, our family’s ties to JFC grew even stronger. My father James was deeply involved with JFC for decades, serving on their Executive Committee and as Chair of their Overseas Connections Committee.
Now all those ties have been cut. My experience isn’t unique. Federations have been alienating constituents who don’t align ideologically with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. It’s been happening all over the country. For three decades, I’d kept a portion of my assets with JFC in a donor-advised fund. I made gifts to my preferred charities out of the fund while the principal remained with JFC as part of the “community chest” they use to finance their operations. But JFC recently told me, in so many words, I should take my money elsewhere. So I did.
Their point of contention was that I wished to give some money from my donor-advised fund to Physicians for Human Rights. After the unprecedented and barbaric terror attacks in Israel on Oct. 7, 2023, Jewish federations raised a lot of money for Israel. They also made lists of human rights organizations that were critical of the Israeli government. The JFC Donor-Advised Fund Committee notified me that this year, for the first time, my pledge to PHR would not be honored.
PHR is not the only cause I give to, but it’s vitally important to me. I’m an M.D., an editor of The American Psychoanalyst, and I’ve served on the PHR board for years. I am privileged to know their fine work in detail. Their physicians risk their lives in conflict zones and take on powerful autocratic regimes around the globe, using medical evidence to expose harms to civilians. In 1997, PHR shared the Nobel Peace Prize as a founding member of the International Campaign to Ban Landmines. Their work is especially important to me as I watch leadership in the U.S. subjugating science, reason, and the rule of law to executive power. PHR represents a commitment to precisely those threatened values that the majority of Jews hold dear, values that hadn’t previously conflicted with JFC’s. Very little of what PHR does relates to Israel at all. I saw no reason to choose between the two organizations until JFC asked me to.
Clearly, JFC’s Donor-Advised Fund Committee sees its decision as a laudable act — that they’re standing up to antisemitic bias even if doing so means losing a constituent and his capital. But that does not describe what happened here. The DAF Committee, on the contrary, rushed to judgment against PHR and alienated a longtime backer of JFC’s community chest with false claims of antisemitism, unsupported by evidence.
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In an email sent to some of my family members, who have also sadly withdrawn their support from JFC, JFC’s DAF Committee devoted just 130 words to its judgment against PHR. Echoing Netanyahu’s incendiary talking points about the medieval “blood libel,” the DAF Committee accused PHR of falsely blaming Israel for the destruction of Al-Ahli al-Arabi Hospital in Gaza City. Ironically, as NPR reported, PHR was a lone voice that did not rush to blame Israel before the facts were in: “By contrast, the advocacy group Physicians for Human Rights put out a call on the day of the blast for the protection of civilian life and for the incident to be the subject of an independent investigation. It notably did not project blame.”
The only piece of evidence the DAF Committee email provided for their claims was exactly that innocuous PHR press release that called on “all parties to abide by international law.” The JFC DAF Committee also claimed, without providing evidence, that PHR does not acknowledge or condemn Hamas’ use of tunnels to store weapons and shield warriors under hospitals. In a joint report on the devastating impact of the war in Gaza on Palestinian mothers and infants, PHR and the Global Human Rights Clinic at the University of Chicago Law School do, on the contrary, explicitly call on Hamas not to militarize hospitals. The DAF Committee provided no evidence at all of PHR’s conflicts with the JFC mission.
Some may ask, “So what?” The JFC’s priority is defending Israel when it’s under attack. It’s not as though PHR is out there helping Israel. In fact, in highlighting the suffering of Palestinian civilians in their report instead of the victims of Oct. 7, and in documenting that the Israeli military has prevented medicine and baby formula from reaching Gaza without considering the larger reasons for Israel’s blockade, PHR shows clearly enough whose side they’re on. JFC is entitled to decline support to organizations that don’t support Israel and it doesn’t owe you a reason.
I don’t question JFC’s right. I question its wisdom. I’m not trying to persuade them to value PHR’s work the way I do, though I hope I’ve made a reasonable case for why I value it. I’m trying to say JFC is making a mistake in alienating constituents like me over a difference of opinion — alienating people who have long considered themselves allies, supported JFC for years, and care about Israel. There has to be room for rational disagreement in a community organization. If not, the federations will hemorrhage constituents and support and become politicized. The majority of American Jews are highly critical of the current Israeli government and its campaign in Gaza. Younger people even more so. JFC may disagree with the rest of us, but it’s not as though we’re making stuff up out of thin air. Israel’s own ex-generals are accusing West Bank settlers of “ethnic cleansing.”
By refusing to accommodate our views, do the federations hope to change our minds? Is this how the federations want to advertise themselves to the majority of American Jews who dare to question Netanyahu? Telling us there’s no room for us, and justifying their conclusions with sloppy assumptions, naive parroting of Netanyahu, and wanton disrespect for others’ views and expertise?
I have no sympathy for Hamas. Human rights organizations like PHR do not support Hamas. Most of the 2 million people living in Gaza, however, are not terrorists. They are human beings and half of them are children. Before Oct. 7, 2023, there were 30,000 Hamas fighters in Gaza, according to the Israeli Defense Forces, a tiny fraction of the Gaza population. I don’t see the harm in trying to insure mothers’ and infants’ access to medicine and baby formula. Nor in documenting the Israeli government’s violations of the rules of warfare when they deny medicine and baby formula to Palestinian mothers and infants who were not perpetrators of Oct. 7. Is our own government here in the U.S. always beyond reproach? No government is. Only authoritarian regimes consider themselves beyond reproach. Again, I don’t expect JFC’s DAF Committee to see it my way.
I would, however, ask them to consider the possible long-term consequences of purging people who think as I do. If protecting Palestinian mothers and infants is really such an affront to JFC’s mission, what does that say about its mission and its priorities? Quashing criticism of the Israeli government is a dramatic departure from JFC’s founding principles. The leaders of the social welfare agencies that depend on JFC’s support will be dismayed to learn that JFC worries more about defunding PHR reports on baby formula than they worry about maintaining the Bellefaire Jewish Children’s Bureau. JFC has been a national leader among the federations from the beginning in caring for their community’s most vulnerable, including children and the elderly. The founders of United Way emulated JFC when in 1913 they began organizing their own community chests. If JFC’s central aim is still the thing they were always best at — maintaining a community chest to help people, as they once helped my father and his brothers — then pushing me out for supporting PHR hardly seems like a good way to serve that aim.
What is most shocking to me is that the federations really don’t seem to care what the majority of American Jews think, or how many constituents they lose by purging those who refuse to equate criticism of the Israeli government with antisemitism. Like Netanyahu, they seem quite comfortable without us. But they’re losing this generation and the next one.
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Israel’s supreme court says Arab parties can run in Oct. 27 election
(JTA) — TEL AVIV – Israel’s Supreme Court ruling upholding the right of Arab parties to run in the Oct. 27 election could make it more difficult for Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to form a new coalition after the election.
In a unanimous decision, the Supreme Court ruled on Friday that the Joint Arab List and Ra’am, the two Arab-led political lists competing in Israel’s elections, could run. The ruling overturned a decision by the Central Elections Committee, a largely political body in which parties in Netanyahu’s right-wing coalition hold a majority of the seats, which had voted last month to bar the lists from running.
“The court found that the materials submitted to the Central Elections Committee did not meet the standards established in the case law for disqualifying a list of candidates,” the court said in its ruling, which did not include extensive reasoning.
The decision restored the parties that traditionally represent Israel’s more than 2 million Arab citizens and in doing so helped the opposition block. Now a wide constituency that rejects working with Netanyahu will have a reason to head to the polls rather than stay home.
Most polls have shown that the opposition bloc would need to include the parliamentary seats held by the Ra’am party, led by MK Mansour Abbas, in order to gain the lead over Netanyahu’s coalition. Unlike Ra’am, the Joint Arab List has never sat in an Israeli coalition and there is no expectation that it would join with Zionist Jewish-led parties to do so.
The court also took a number of other steps regarding the upcoming election. It overturned the committee’s decision to disqualify Ofer Cassif, a Jewish lawmaker running as part of the Joint List. In Cassif’s case, the decision was made by a 7-2 majority.
The Supreme Court justices said they “strongly condemn the outrageous statements and actions by Cassif that evoke revulsion.” At the same time, they ruled that “these statements or actions do not meet the stringent tests established” for disqualifying a candidate.
According to the petition seeking Cassif’s disqualification, he had legitimized Palestinian violence during the war, referred to those seeking to attack Israeli soldiers as “freedom fighters” and taken actions against Israel in international legal forums.
The most significant development, however, came in the case of Sami Abu Shehadeh, the leader of Balad, one of the parties that make up the Joint List.
During a Thursday hearing, the Supreme Court took the unusual step of indicating to Abu Shehadeh that a majority of the justices were inclined to disqualify him and recommended that he withdraw his candidacy.
Following internal consultations, Balad announced that Abu Shehadeh would withdraw his candidacy, rendering the court’s expected ruling on his disqualification moot.
“Sami Abu Shehadeh did not retract his positions and did not flee the struggle. Only after the court itself announced its intention to uphold the disqualification did he decide to withdraw his candidacy,” Balad said in an official statement.
A central part of the case against Abu Shehadeh focused on an article he published on Oct. 8, 2023, one day after Hamas’ Oct. 7 attack, in which the terror organization killed 1,200 people in Israel and took another 251 hostage.
In the article, Abu Shehadeh described the Oct. 7 events as an “important historic event” and suggested that lessons could be learned from how Hamas had managed to surprise Israel and carry out its invasion. His comments were cited as evidence that he supports armed struggle against Israel, one of the grounds on which candidates can be disqualified under Israeli law.
In its ruling, the Supreme Court said there was “a consensus that the things said by Mr. Abu Shehadeh are painful, outrageous and revolting.” The decision to disqualify Abu Shehadeh was also supported by the Democrats, Israel’s most left-wing Zionist party.
During the Supreme Court hearing, Abu Shehadeh acknowledged that “this paragraph was not written correctly.” He said, “I have never supported violence in my life,” and said that he knows victims of the Oct. 7 attack.
Balad said Abu Shehadeh would continue to lead the party’s political activities even without serving in the Knesset.
The Joint List sharply criticized the court’s handling of the case. In a statement, the list said that “the heart of the matter” was “preventing an Arab political leader from running in the elections and infringing on our public’s right to choose its representatives.”
The list accused the court of acting “following a campaign of incitement and political persecution led by the fascist and Kahanist right, joined by the leaders of the Zionist opposition parties.”
“The court must bear responsibility for its disgraceful decision before our public and before public opinion in Israel and around the world, for providing judicial cover for political exclusion. This ruling is another link in the chain of persecution of our public.”
Right-wing Israeli politicians also criticized the court for declining to issue a ruling formally disqualifying Abu Shehadeh rather than merely pressing him to withdraw.
National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir, an ultranationalist member of Netanyahu’s government, called the court’s proposal “too merciful” and said it “harms the democracy of the State of Israel.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
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