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The Quiet Antisemitism: My Experience as a Jewish College Professor
There are plenty of examples of blatant antisemitism and attacks on Jews that have occurred over the past 10 months. It seems that every day, we read about a synagogue being attacked, a Jewish student being spat on or assaulted, or the all too mainstream protester chants calling for Intifada or for Jews to go back to Poland — and the list goes on.
Perhaps less obvious — but more frequent — is the antisemitism that’s happening under the radar: things that are circumstantial and much harder to prove.
I’m not talking about Jewish writers having their lectures cancelled out of concern “for their safety” — it’s clear to everyone (except the organizers) where the motivation comes from.
No, this is the kind of discrimination that Black people and others experienced before the Civil Rights movement — and even after: being rejected as a tenant on a lease to an apartment, passed over for a job or promotion based on the color of their skin , or — as in my case — perhaps not having a contract renewed at a college after speaking out against their policies regarding “free speech.”
Do I have proof that me being Israeli or Jewish had anything to do with my dismissal?
Absolutely not.
But are the circumstances suspicious? Yes.
Two years ago, I accepted a Visiting Assistant Professorship in the English Department of a private Midwestern college in the United States. It was a one-year contract, and following the first year, the Chair of the Department notified me how much he appreciated my work — noting the anonymous student evaluations that gave me high marks, that a large number of students requested to take a second class with me, and that I helped raise the visibility of the college through public performances by my students. He also informed me that there was restructuring going on in the English Department, which would result in some of the classes I was teaching being offered only periodically.
In short, he asked me if I would be interested in remaining affiliated with the school, and return either every other semester, or, for instance, if another English teacher took a sabbatical. That suited me fine, as it allowed me to continue teaching, but also gave me time for my own creative endeavors back in Los Angeles, where I was commuting from every week.
On October 7, I was not teaching on campus. But like so many other colleges, a segment of the student population rose up to protest Israel. And even though I was a thousand miles away, I received an email from a student member of Students for Justice in Palestine (SJP) notifying all faculty that the group was calling for a one-day strike to protest, accompanied with a list of atrocities Israel had allegedly committed, even listing the bombing of the Al-Shifa hospital in Gaza two weeks earlier, which had already been attributed to a stray missile from Palestinian Islamic Jihad.
How was it possible for one student to access the entire faculty and student body to spew their propaganda?
I contacted the Provost and Dean of the college to inquire. She replied that this was a recent policy change put into place two years earlier to encourage freedom of expression. I asked how this policy might play out if I rebutted the student’s charges through the college-wide email system, only to have another student rebut my defense, and so on and so on?
She replied that if it got out of hand, the school would shut it down.
I replied that the situation had already gotten out of hand, and trusted I wouldn’t be receiving anymore emails from such organizations.
The student newspaper got wind of this, and contacted me for my opinion. Here’s what they wrote in their article:
Safdie, who is of Israeli and Syrian Jewish descent, found sections of the message antisemitic and questioned why he received the email. “I’m all for freedom of expression, but I’m not sure this decision was able to foresee such a situation where students might abuse the privilege and create a hostile work/study environment for other members of the community.”
Fast forward several months, when I returned to campus for the Spring semester. Within a week of arrival, I received an email from the new chair of the English Department (who was also the associate Dean of the Race and Ethnic Studies program). She wanted to set up a Zoom meeting with me — even though our offices were 10 feet apart.
In a carefully worded statement that sounded like it was crafted by an attorney, she got to the point. Although the college was extremely pleased with all the work that I’d done, and that all my students loved my teaching, the college was making budget cuts and were not going to be able to renew my contract.
When I tried to explain to her my prior arrangement with the previous Chair, she simply replied that she’d be happy to write me a letter of recommendation.
Something about the Zoom call and her demeanor felt suspicious.
On a whim, I did an Internet search on my new Chair.
The first thing that came up on her Twitter Feed was a statement on the masthead of a literary magazine she edited, condemning the alleged mass killing and displacement of Palestinians in the wake of Hamas’s October 7, 2023, attacks.
As I explored further, I discovered other parts of the statement:
The Israeli military—with the support of the U.S. government—has bombarded Palestinian civilians relentlessly, in violation of international law, and deprived Palestinians of food, water, fuel, and electricity.
And:
Because we work to “bring our readers into the living moment, not as tourists, but as engaged participants,” we believe that Palestinians need space to speak directly, whether from siege in Palestine or in diaspora. So too do others who bear witness to the ongoing settler-colonial violence in Gaza and the occupied West Bank.
Two days after the Zoom meeting, I figured I might as well take the Chair up on her offer to write me a letter-of-recommendation; it was March, and I could still apply to other universities for employment the following year. (Universities can be suspicious if you leave a position after just two years, so a letter would be crucial to securing a position.)
After a week of email silence, the Chair wrote me back, saying that she wasn’t familiar with my teaching and requested to attend one of my classes to observe my skills. I invited her the following week to attend a class, which fit her schedule, but she did not show, and didn’t even write to give an explanation.
I followed up with an email to offer her another opportunity, followed by a second and third, but there was nothing but email silence.
I should also mention that, at the one faculty meeting we had, she stayed as far away from me as possible, and if I approached, she would quickly engage in discussion with another professor. The topic that day was adding a requirement for English Majors to take an anti-Racism class. One of the new offerings for the following year was focused on racism against Palestinians.
By the end of April, I decided to contact the Associate Dean of Humanities who oversaw the English Department, and sure enough, within an hour of my email, I finally received an email back from the Chair of the English Department, offering to attend my class, but letting me know that she was too busy to write me a letter of recommendation until the end of May — well past the end of the semester, and too late to help with a teaching application for the following year.
If there was ever a thought of going to the administration to complain about my treatment, that was quickly extinguished following an SJP demonstration that demanded that the college divest from Oracle. Apparently, Oracle’s website had stated support for Israel, and the Head of Financial Aid for the college felt the need to apologize for the school’s actions.
A response from the school’s administration read thus:“The business strategy or public statements from Oracle do not represent the viewpoints of the College. Due to the College’s contract with the business and the cost it took to make such major system changes, the College does not have any feasible or affordable alternative.
It also went on to assure protesters:
Less than 0.5 percent of the College’s investments are tied to Israeli companies and that none of these investments are directly held by the college.
As the semester ended, on another whim, I searched the Human Resources page of the college, and sure enough, there was a listing for a new English professor. The skills they were looking for were for someone who taught poetry as well as Race and Ethnic studies courses — none of which I was qualified to teach.
Was the college looking to shift away from courses like Screenwriting, Playwriting, and Non-Fiction — three popular courses I had taught that were always in high demand and had long waiting lists?
I guess I’ll never know.
Oren Safdie is a playwright and screenwriter.
The post The Quiet Antisemitism: My Experience as a Jewish College Professor first appeared on Algemeiner.com.
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Massive fire breaks out at kosher supermarket in London’s Golders Green
(JTA) — A huge fire broke out Tuesday morning at the Kosher Kingdom supermarket in Golders Green, London’s heavily Orthodox Jewish neighborhood. Firefighters were still working to put out the blaze six hours later.
Metropolitan Police posted on X that officers were called to the scene on Golders Green Road around 7 a.m. by the London Fire Brigade. “Officers responded and are at the scene assisting firefighters with road closures and evacuations,” said police.
London Fire Brigade Assistant Commissioner Craig Carter provided an update on the scene at 12:30 p.m., saying that 15 engines and around 100 firefighters “have been tackling the fire at its height, which has affected a ground floor shop and a storage area to the rear, which has partially collapsed.”
He noted that the flats above were not affected but residents were evacuated as a precaution.
“Our specialist Fire Investigators, in conjunction with the Metropolitan Police Service, have worked at pace to establish that the circumstances of the fire are not believed to be suspicious and investigations on the cause and origin of the fire are ongoing,” Carter added.
The news that Kosher Kingdom did not appear to be deliberately targeted comes as a relief to Jewish residents, who have been on edge for months amid a string of attacks. The blaze broke out in the same area where four Hatzola ambulances were torched in March, two Jewish men were stabbed in April and a Jewish man said he was attacked for speaking Hebrew this month.
Rochel Cohen, who lives near the supermarket, is among those whose street has been cordoned off. Her first thought was the incident was another antisemitic attack, she told JTA in a phone interview.
Cohen said she looked out the window around 7 a.m. and saw “just huge plumes of black smoke and we heard all the sirens. And the police have roped off all our roads again.”
That “again,” Cohen said, was because it was the third time in two months that her family had witnessed “crime scenes in our neighborhood.”
“The ambulance fire was just on the next street from us and the stabbing situation was 100 meters down the road from us,” she said.
Prior to the fire department’s update, speculation spread on social media that the fire was electrical, potentially caused by faulty freezers. London has seen an unprecedented heatwave over the last several days, with temperatures soaring over 90 degrees.
Cohen said two of her family members previously worked at Kosher Kingdom. They believed from the outset that there was an electrical fire in the freezers “because it’s exactly from the roof footage that we saw where those freezers are located,” she said.
Nonetheless, another incident in the neighborhood has left her shaken. “It’s just a bit of a nightmare, really,” she said. “It’s all these incidents adding up, and it makes it quite scary, this climate of fear we’re currently in. It’s really oppressive.”
Cohen said she has been traveling to jury service the last several weeks about 10 miles from Golders Green in Wood Green, which has a higher than average crime rate.
“I actually felt safer there than I do walking the street here in Golders Green because I’m constantly turning around, checking what’s going on,” she said. “It’s not a nice feeling.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post Massive fire breaks out at kosher supermarket in London’s Golders Green appeared first on The Forward.
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Reading a Pakistani author’s 30-year-old novel helped me understand my parents’ views on intermarriage
When I was a kid, I was haunted by the threat of my parents rejecting me if I married a non-Jew. Raised on Disney movies and song lyrics about soulmates, I spent almost every moment of high school anticipating the pain of falling in love with a non-Jew and having to choose between him and my family. If I chose him, the estrangement could bode poorly for married life. But if I married a Jewish man, I’d always worry that if he had not been Jewish, our love would not have overcome our religious differences, and therefore was not that strong to begin with.
The psychic burden began to lift only when I went to college at Hunter in New York City and made friends from other minority groups. I bonded with them over our parents’ desire that we marry someone from the same religion or ethnicity. I had always felt like my parents’ demand constituted bigotry against non-Jews, and I was surprised when my non-Jewish friends were more sympathetic to their stance than I was.
In college, I took a class on the history of modern India and learned about the Pakistani author Bapsi Sidhwa, but I didn’t read her until this year. Sidhwa, who died in 2024, grew up in Lahore’s Parsi community — a group of Zoroastrians who trace their roots to pre-Islamic Iran. Even though her books are mostly more than 30 years old, they still feel relevant, and they remind me of my own Iranian Jewish community.
Sidhwa’s 1993 coming-of-age novel An American Brat centers on Feroza, a Parsi girl from Lahore. Feroza’s parents send her to the U.S. to expand her horizons because they think the local culture is making her too conservative. But they wind up being disappointed when her horizons expand too much.
Feroza’s whole extended family goes into a tailspin when she sends word home that she wants to marry a Jewish man named David. She met him when she responded to an ad he placed in the college newspaper about selling his car. The two bond over their families’ shared emphases on religion and education. David’s family’s Shabbat candles recall the significance of fire within Zoroastrianism. But if Feroza marries a non-Zoroastrian, she will be excommunicated from the Parsi community. As Feroza’s mom Zareen prepares to fly to America to intervene, extended family members urge her to stand her ground no matter how nice David is and no matter how big a “tantrum” Feroza throws — but they also advise her not be too harsh either, so as not to push Feroza away.
The reader never learns what objections, if any, David’s Reform Jewish parents might have to his interfaith marriage; over Shabbat dinner, prior to the proposal, they are reserved but polite. Meanwhile, Zareen’s good-cop bad-cop routine is familiar, quaint and pathetic. She lists eligible Parsi bachelors (the Zoroastrian equivalent of ‘nice Jewish boys’) with promising careers and “worthy mothers.” She tries killing with kindness: “You’re too precious. We’re not going to throw you away on the first riffraff that comes your way.” She even tells Feroza cautionary tales about women who married “nons” (Zoroastrian equivalent of goyim) and wound up feeling disconnected from their heritage. These methods all fail, and the book comes to a sobering end when Zareen calls David’s bluff and demands the couple have a huge traditional wedding, scaring him off and exposing the limits of his supposedly liberal values.
Zoroastrians, like Jews, are a small group. In 2022, an Associated Press article estimated the worldwide Zoroastrian population, which at its peak numbered in the millions, was now around 125,000. Lahore’s Parsi community had all of 11 members as of a 2023 Facebook post.
Reading literature from other cultures, just like having friends from other cultures, can teach us about our own. As I read Zareen’s efforts to talk Feroza out of the engagement, it was somehow easier for me to understand than if they were Jewish like me. The author’s empathy makes Zareen’s mom an especially interesting character, like a Zoroastrian Tevye, torn between family pressures and the feminist values that inspired her to send Feroza to the U.S. in the first place.
Students at Hunter have a reputation for being super liberal, but they also have surprising points of departure from what most people would consider liberal. When I told classmates that I struggled with my parents’ insistence that I marry a Jew, I sensed bad energy in the room, as if they were judging me for disrespecting my parents in front of them. Some seemed to think it’s only natural for a person to marry someone who belongs to the same religion or ethnicity. Part of me was disturbed to see that this brand of separatism was so fashionable — but I also felt relieved, like they’d given me permission to appease my parents.
Feroza heals from her breakup with David partly by remembering that no matter the religion of the person she marries, her religion will always be part of her. As for myself, I don’t know what my future holds. But whatever does happen, it will be something that also happened to countless women before me — not only Jewish women but people of all different races and creeds. It is comforting to remember that as your life is playing out, there are people all over the world and across time living out much the same story as you are.
The post Reading a Pakistani author’s 30-year-old novel helped me understand my parents’ views on intermarriage appeared first on The Forward.
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Newly discovered details about Soviet Jewry between 1945 and 1953
די יאָרן צװישן 1945 און 1953, פֿון דעם סוף פֿון דער צװײטער װעלט־מלחמה ביז יאָסיף סטאַלינס טױט, זײַנען געװען די צײַט פֿון נסיונות פֿאַר סאָװעטישע ייִדן. דער דאָזיקער תּקופֿה איז געװידמעט דאָס בוך „דאָס לעבן נאָך דער מלחמה: האָפֿענונגען און שרעק“ פֿון דער היסטאָריקערין אַנאַ שטערנשיס פֿונעם טאָראָנטער אוניװערסיטעט. דאָס איז דער פֿערטער באַנד אין דער אַכט־בענדיקן געשיכטע פֿון ייִדן אין סאָװעטן־פֿאַרבאַנד אונטער דער רעדאַקציע פֿון די היסטאָריקער גענאַדי עסטרײַך און דוד ענגעל פֿון ניו־יאָרקער אוניװערסיטעט.
העכער װי צװײ מיט אַ האַלב מיליאָן ייִדן זײַנען דערמאָרדעט געװאָרן אױפֿן שטח פֿונעם סאָװעטן־פֿאַרבאַנד אין די גרענעצן פֿון 1941, וואָס נעמט אויך אַרײַן די געגנטן פֿון פּױלן, ליטע, לעטלאַנד, עסטלאַנד און רומעניע, װאָס זײַנען אַנעקסירט געװאָרן אין 1939 און 1940.
בערך צװײ מיט אַ האַלב מיליאָן ייִדן האָבן איבערגעלעבט דעם חורבן אין סאָװעטן־פֿאַרבאַנד. זײ האָבן זיך געפֿונען מחוץ די אָקופּירטע טעריטאָריעס אָדער געדינט אין דער רױטער אַרמײ. אַרום 100,000 ייִדן זײַנען געבליבן לעבן אױף די אָקופּירטע שטחים, דער עיקר אין די געטאָס פֿון טראַנסניסטריע אין דרום־אוקראַיִנע און מאָלדאָװע, װאָס זײַנען געװען אונטער דער רומענישער אָקופּאַציע.
דער חורבן האָט שטאַרק געענדערט דעם קולטורעל־סאָציאַלן פּראָפֿיל פֿון סאָװעטישן ייִדנטום, שרײַבט שטערנשיס. די ייִנגערע, מער אַסימילירטע, געבילדעטע און מאָבילע מענטשן האָבן געהאַט בעסערע אױסזיכטן אױף אױסצומײַדן דעם טױט. די פּראָסטע שטעטלדיקע בעל־מלאכות, פּױערים און עלטערע ייִדן האָבן אָפֿט מאָל ניט געהאַט קײן מעגלעכקײטן צו אַנטלױפֿן פֿון די דײַטשן.
נאָך דער מלחמה האָבן אַ סך ייִדן ניט געװאָלט זיך אומקערן איז די שטעטלעך פֿון אוקראַיִנע און בעלאַרוס, װאָס האָבן זײ דערמאָנט אָן זײערע דערמאָרדעטע קרובֿים און שכנים. האָבן זיי זיך געפּרוּװט באַזעצן אין גרױסע שטעט, אַזעלכע װי קיִעװ, מינסק, מאָסקװע אָדער לענינגראַד.
כּדי צו האָבן אַ װױנרעכט אין אַ גרױסער שטאָט האָט מען געמוזט האָבן אַן אַרבעט און אַ דירה. דער מצבֿ אין קיִעװ איז געװען באַזונדערס שװער. די שטאָט איז געװען אין חורבֿות, און די געבליבענע װױנונגען זײַנען בעת דער דײַטשישער אָקופּאַציע פֿאַרנומען געװאָרן דורך אָרטיקע אוקראַיִנער.
זײ האָבן פֿײַנט געהאַט ייִדן, װאָס האָבן זיך אומגעקערט פֿון דער עװאַקואַציע אין סיביר אָדער צענטראַל־אַזיע און האָבן איצט געװאָלט צוריק באַקומען זײערע דירות מיט האָב־און־גוטס. דאָס האָט געשאַפֿן שפּאַנונג צװישן ייִדן און אוקראַיִנער און אַרויסגערופֿן אַנטיסעמיטישע געפֿילן.
דאָס רובֿ היסטאָרישע פֿאָרשונגען װעגן סאָװעטישע ייִדן פֿאָקוסירן זיך אױף דער פּאָליטיק און קולטור. שטערנשיס ברענגט אַרײַן נײַע היסטאָרישע מקורים, װאָס עד־היום זײַנען לרובֿ פֿאַרבליבן מחוץ דעם אַקאַדעמישן אינטערעס.
אין משך פֿון העכער װי 20 יאָר פֿאָרש-אַרבעט האָט זי אָנגעזאַמלט הונדערטער בעל־פּהיִקע גבֿית־עדותן װעגן דעם אַמאָליקן ייִדישן לעבן אין סאָװעטן־פֿאַרבאַנד. זײ לאָזן הערן שטימען פֿון מענער און פֿרױען פֿון פֿאַרשײדענע סאָציאַלע שיכטן, פֿון פּראָסטע אַרבעטער ביז הױך־אָנגעשטעלטע פֿיגורן.
עס איז כּדאַי דאָ אָפּצומערקן, אַז אײן װיכטיקער אַספּעקט פֿון דער סאָװעטישער ייִדישער דערפֿאַרונג פֿאַרבלײַבט נאָך אַלץ ניט דערפֿאָרשט. אַ היפּשע צאָל ייִדן זײַנען געװען פֿאַרטאָן אין דער אַזױ־גערופֿענער „שאָטן־װירטשאַפֿט“. זײ האָבן געפֿירט קלײנע געשעפֿטן, װאָס זײַנען פֿאָרמעל געװען מלוכישע אָבער פֿאַקטיש זײַנען זײ געװען פּריװאַטע.
פּריװאַטע אונטערנעמונגען זײַנען געװען פֿאַרװערט אין סאָװעטן־פֿאַרבאַנד, אָבער אין דער צײַט פֿון עקאָנאָמישע צרות האָט די מלוכה געקוקט אױף זײ דורך די פֿינגער. אַזאַ מין אַרבעט האָט געלאָזט פֿרומע ייִדן אָפּהיטן שבת און יום־טובֿים. דװקא זײ זײַנען געװען די הױפּט־שטיצער פֿון שילן און פּריװאַטע מנינים.
ספּעציעל אינטערעסאַנט אין שטערנשיסעס בוך זײַנען די באַריכטן װעגן פֿאַרשײדענע פֿאָלק־אַקטיװיטעטן װאָס ייִדן האָבן אָרגאַניזירט אָן קײן שום שטיצה מצד דער מלוכה. מען האָט געזאַמלט געלט צו בױען דענקמעלער אױף די ערטער פֿון מאַסנמאָרד און צו אָרגאַניזירן הזכּרה־צערעמאָניעס.
די ערשטע פּאָר יאָר נאָך דער צווייטער וועלט־מלחמה זײַנען געװען אַ צײַט פֿון גרױסע האָפֿענונגען. נאָכן נצחון איבער דײַטשלאַנד האָט מען געהאָפֿט, אַז די סאָװעטישע מאַכט װעט אָנערקענען די יסורים פֿון ייִדן און װעט זײ העלפֿן װידער אױפֿבױען דאָס ייִדישע לעבן.
די סאַמע אַקטיװסטע קהילות זײַנען געװען אין װילנע און טשערנאָװיץ, די ייִדישע צענטערס, װאָס זײַנען געװאָרן סאָװעטיש ערשט אין 1939 און 1940. אין װילנע האָט מען געשאַפֿן דעם ערשטן חורבן־מוזײ אין דער װעלט און טשערנאָװיץ איז געװאָרן אַ נײַע הײם פֿאַרן קיִעװער ייִדישן טעאַטער.
אָבער דער אױפֿלעב האָט געדױערט בלױז אַ פּאָר יאָר. אַ סך כּלל־טוער (צװישן זײ — דער דיכטער אַבֿרהם סוצקעװער), װאָס פֿאַר דער מלחמה זײַנען געװען פּױלישע אָדער רומענישע בירגער, האָבן באַקומען דערלױבעניש צו פֿאַרלאָזן דעם סאָװעטן־פֿאַרבאַנד אין 1945־1946.
אַרום 1947 האָבן זיך באַװיזן סימנים פֿון ענדערונגען אין דער פּאָליטיק לגבי ייִדן. אײניקע היסטאָריקער פֿאַרבינדן זײ מיטן אָנהײב פֿון דער קאַלטער מלחמה צװישן דעם סאָװעטן־פֿאַרבאַנד און די פֿאַראײניקטע שטאַטן און מיטן אױפֿקום פֿון מדינת־ישׂראל.
שטערנשיס איז מסכּים, אַז דאָס זײַנען געװען װיכטיקע סיבות. אָבער זי האַלט, אַז אַ היפּשע ראָלע האָבן אױך געשפּילט אַנטיסעמיטישע שטימונגען אין דער סאָװעטישער באַפֿעלקערונג. אַנטיסעמיטיזם איז געװען ספּעציעל שטאַרק אין די געגנטן, װאָס זײַנען געװען אונטער דער דײַטשישער אָקופּאַציע. די נאַציסטישע פּראָפּאַגאַנדע האָט געהאַט אַ שטאַרקע השפּעה אױפֿן פּראָסטן פֿאָלק.
אַנטיסעמיטיזם איז געװען פּאָפּולער אױך אין די „הױכע פֿענצטער“ פֿון דער קאָמוניסטישער פּאַרטײ. נאָך דער מלחמה האָט די רעגירונג געהאַט אַ סך שװערע סאָציאַלע און עקאָנאָמישע פּראָבלעמען און האָט זיך גענײטיקט אין דער שטיצע פֿון די מאַסן.
אַן אימאַזש פֿון אַ שׂונא װאָלט געהאָלפֿן אָפּצוציִען דעם אױפֿמערק פֿון די דאָזיקע פּראָבלעמען, פֿאַרסך־הכּלט שטערנשיס. דערצו נאָך האָבן אַ סך ייִדן אַרױסגעװיזן התלהבֿות לגבי מדינת־ישׂראל, און דאָס האָט אַרויסגערופֿט חשד בײַ סטאַלינען.
בײַ ס׳רובֿ ייִדן איז דער דאָזיקער קלאַפּ געקומען אומדערװאַרט. מער פֿון אַלעמען האָבן געליטן די ייִדישע כּלל־ און קולטור־טוער פֿונעם ייִדישן אַנטיפֿאַשיסטישן קאָמיטעט.
דער אַקטיאָר שלמה מיכאָעלס איז דערמאָרדעט געװאָרן אין אַן אינסצענירטן אױטאָ־אומגליק אין יאַנואַר פֿון 1948. די דיכטער איציק פֿעפֿער, דוד האָפֿשטײן, פּרץ מאַרקיש, לײב קװיטקאָ און דער שרײַבער דוד בערגעלסאָן זײַנען באַשולדיקט געװאָרן אין שפּיאָנאַזש, פֿאַרמישפּט געוואָרן צום טױט און דערשאָסן געוואָרן דעם 12טן אױגוסט 1952
אַרום אײן טױזנט ייִדן זײַנען אַרעסטירט געװאָרן פֿאַר „ייִדישן נאַציאָנאַליזם“ און געשיקט געוואָרן אין די תּפֿיסה־לאַגערן. טױזנטער מענטשן האָבן פֿאַרלױרן זײער אַרבעט־שטעלעס. אַלע ייִדישע אַנשטאַלטן זײַנען פֿאַרמאַכט געװאָרן.
די אַנטיסעמיטישע כװאַליע האָט דערגרײכט דעם שפּיץ אָנהײב 1953. אַ גרופּע חשובֿע דאָקטױרים, ס’רובֿ ייִדן, זײַנען באַשולדיקט געװאָרן אין אָפּסמען אָנפֿירער פֿון דער קאָמוניסטישער פּאַרטײ. אײנצײַטיק זײַנען אַרומגעגאַנגען קלאַנגען, אַז סטאַלין איז אױסן צו דעפּאָרטירן ייִדן קײן סיביר.
אַזאַ אַקציע װאָלט ניט געװען קײן יוצא־דופֿן אין סאָװעטן־פֿאַרבאַנד. צו יענער צײַט האָט סטאַלין שױן געהאַט דעפּאָרטירט עטלעכע עטנישע עדות: די טאָטערן פֿון קרים, די טשעטשענצעס און די אינגושן פֿון קאַװקאַז און נאָך אַנדערע. אָבער היסטאָריקער האָבן ניט געפֿונען קײן דאָקומענטאַלע ראַיות פֿון אַ פּלאַן צו דעפּאָרטירן ייִדן.
אַזױ אָדער אַנדערש זײַנען ייִדן געראַטעװעט געװאָרן פֿון סטאַלינס לעצטער גזירה װײַל ער איז געשטאָרבן דעם 5טן מאַרץ 1953, גלײַך נאָך פּורים. בהדרגה האָט מען אָפּגעשטעלט די אַנטיסעמיטישע פּראָפּאַגאַנדע און באַפֿרײַט די פֿאַרמישפּטע פֿונעם גולאַג. אָבער מען האָט פֿאָרט נישט אָנגעהױבן דרוקן ייִדישע ביכער אין סאָװעטן־פֿאַרבאַנד ביז 1959.
שטערנשיס האָט אָנגעשריבן אַ דראַמאַטישע געשיכטע פֿולגעפּאַקט מיט פּרטים, װאָס לאָזן דעם לײענער זיך אױסמאָלן דאָס טאָג־טעגלעכע לעבן פֿון ייִדן אין סאָװעטן־פֿאַרבאַנד. דערצו נאָך באַקומט דער לײענער אַ גוטן פֿאַרשטאַנד פֿון די ברײטערע פּאָליטישע, עקאָנאָמישע און סאָציאַלע טענדענצן, װאָס האָבן באַװירקט סײַ ייִדן סײַ די גאַנצע סאָװעטישע באַפֿעלקערונג.
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