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New York Times
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- New York Times
Lynn Freed, South African Writer With a Wry Style, Dies at 79
Lynn Freed, a South African-born writer whose mordant, darkly comic works explored her Jewish upbringing during apartheid, along with the jagged feelings of displacement experienced by expatriates and the ways that women negotiate their identities and sexual desire, died on May 9 at her home in Sonoma, Calif. She was 79. Her daughter, Jessica Gamsu, said the cause was lymphoma. The author of seven novels, dozens of essays and a collection of short stories that were originally published in The New Yorker, Harper's and The Atlantic, Ms. Freed was praised by critics for her spare, wry and unsentimental style. 'If Joan Didion and Fran Lebowitz had a literary love child, she would be Lynn Freed,' the critic E. Ce Miller wrote in Bustle magazine, describing Ms. Freed's writing as 'in equal turns funny, wise and sardonic.' Raised by eccentric thespians in South Africa, Ms. Freed immigrated to New York City in the late 1960s to attend graduate school and later settled in California. Her first novel, 'Heart Change' (1982), was about a doctor who has an affair with her daughter's music teacher. It was a critical and commercial dud. Ms. Freed caught her literary wind in 1986 with her second novel, 'Home Ground,' which drew generously on her upbringing. Narrated by Ruth Frank, a Jewish girl whose parents run a theater and employ servants, the book subtly skewers the manners and lavish excesses of white families during apartheid. Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
CBS News
5 days ago
- General
- CBS News
Post-WWII Germany's first Jewish cabinet member on embracing her roots, countering rising antisemitism
Berlin — When Karin Prien's mother brought her to Germany as a little girl in the late 1960s, she gave her one urgent warning: "Don't tell anyone you're Jewish." Nearly six decades later, Prien is now post World War II Germany's first Jewish federal cabinet member, having been selected as the Minister for Education, Family Affairs, Senior Citizens, Women and Youth. Prien told CBS News she intends to use her platform to confront the rise of antisemitism in Germany and further afield, and the fragility of democracy in a country still reckoning with its past. "Well, in a way, I'm proud," the minister told CBS News in a candid interview. "Proud to be a minister in the federal government, but also that I'm recognized as Jewish and that German society is now so far [advanced] as to accept that Jewish people have a right to be a self-conscious part of this society." Prien's political career, and her personal story, represent an arc of conflict, tension and reconciliation that echoes that of post-Holocaust Germany itself. Karin Prien, Germany's federal minister for Education, Family Affairs, Senior Citizens, Women and Youth. Christoph Soeder/picture alliance via Getty Images "A question of responsibility" Born in the Netherlands to Holocaust survivors, Prien moved to Germany at the age of 4. Even as a child, she was heavily aware of the silence surrounding her family's identity. Her mother's warning that it was still too dangerous to talk about being Jewish — more than two decades after the war ended — shaped her early years. "There was always fear. My mother was afraid that there were too many Nazis still around," Prien said. "It wasn't taken for granted that you could talk about being Jewish. It was something you kept inside the home." But that silence eventually became intolerable. As a young teen, she said she began to understand that the democratic values she cherished — freedom, human dignity, anti-discrimination—- required defending. "I decided, 'I have to do something about it. Democracy is not something you can take for granted,'" she said. But Prien still waited decades before publicly acknowledging her Jewish identity. The turning point came in the early 2010s, when she was already a member of state parliament in Hamburg. Prien began pushing for systematic documentation of antisemitic incidents in schools. When a journalist asked why the issue mattered so much to her, she paused and then told him: "Because I'm Jewish." "That was the moment I realized I had a political voice," she recalled. "I had some kind of influence. And for me, it was a question of responsibility." Lessons from the past for the threats of today That sense of responsibility weighs heavily on Prien in today's Germany, where she said antisemitism is no longer confined to the political fringes. "We see rising antisemitism all over the world," Prien said. "They dare to be openly antisemitic. I think it's now more than after the end of World War II. They dare to be openly antisemitic, and that's also in Germany getting stronger and stronger. That has changed. And so we have antisemitic tendencies on the margins, but we also have it in the middle of society." While Germany once appeared to be a model of historical reckoning, Prien said she fears complacency is setting in. After some "honest decades," during which Prien says Germans confronted themselves with the stark realities of their country's history, "now, people are dying. And now we have to find new ways to talk about that." Prien thinks that should include a shift in Holocaust education. She wants German schools to expand from their current focus on the atrocities of World War II to also teach the history of Israel, the cultural contributions of Jewish Germans, and the origins of antisemitism. "Jewish identity is part of German identity," she told CBS News. "Young people need to know that Jews are not only victims. Jewish people are diverse. They have a voice. They are part of this society." Prien said she draws inspiration from figures including Margot Friedländer, a Holocaust survivor who famously coined the phrase: "Be Human." That, Prien said, should be the foundation of any education system in a democracy: teaching empathy and human dignity. But it's not only historical facts and universal dignity that need defending, she said, it's also Germany's democratic fabric. "We are an immigration society," Prien said. "But we're not very good at having fair and equal chances for children who start with more difficult conditions." She sees educational equity and national democratic resilience as intrinsically linked. Prien is now leading efforts to limit mobile phone use in German elementary schools, warning that parents and policymakers have been too naive about the risks of digital exposure for young people. "We are anxious about the real world. We drive our kids to school and into the classrooms but we are not anxious about the stuff online," she said. "That has to change." Asked what message she has for young Jews with political ambitions in Germany today, Prien didn't hesitate: "Stay. Don't pack your luggage. This is a different Germany. This is a country where you can live safely. And it's our job to make that promise true every day."
New York Times
22-05-2025
- Politics
- New York Times
Sarah Milgrim's faith was nurtured by the Jewish community around Kansas City.
In the suburbs of Kansas City, there is a long established Jewish community that is active beyond its modest numbers. The rabbis of the different synagogues all know each other, and families are often members of more than one congregation. 'We're very close knit,' said Rabbi Stephanie Kramer of The Temple, Congregation B'nai Jehudah in Overland Park, Kan. 'We're not big enough to not be.' Sarah Milgrim grew up here, leading the life of an American teenage girl: sleepovers, high school choir tours, late night conversations with friends. She was an idealist and a lover of animals — she had a pet rabbit named Pablo — and was determined to make a difference in the world, perhaps by working to protect the environment, said Emma Chalk, a close friend since middle school. But as she grew older, people that knew her said, Ms. Milgrim developed a deeper commitment to her own Jewish identity. This commitment led her on trips to Israel, where friends said she found a sense of purpose in working with young Israelis and Palestinians, and it eventually led her to a position at the Israeli embassy in Washington, starting just weeks after the Hamas attack on Oct. 7. On Wednesday night, her job brought her to a reception at the Capital Jewish Museum, where she was one of two embassy employees fatally shot in what the authorities say was an attack by a gunman proclaiming support for the Palestinian cause. 'Since Oct. 7, we've all seen a rise in antisemitism, a rise in hate speech,' said Jay Lewis, the president of the Jewish Federation of Greater Kansas City. 'But this was direct violence on one of our own. It got very personal, very fast.'
Telegraph
22-05-2025
- Politics
- Telegraph
Zionism is not hate, but hope fulfilled
When the BBC's highest profile football pundit and presenter was forced to delete a post he had shared on social media that purported to 'explain' Zionism, much of the reaction to it understandably focused on the graphic of a rat which accompanied it. Such grotesque imagery seemed reminiscent of the propaganda of the darkest regimes of the last century, and it was rightly condemned. But while the imagery betrayed the hatred of the original poster, the substance of the video itself, which was at least as toxic, went largely overlooked but it is precisely the content of that kind of video which sows the seeds of the murderous violence we saw in Washington DC this week. In the video, the speaker defines Zionism as, 'the idea of giving exclusive rights to one group of people, at the expense of another group of people'. This is a slur, now repeated and shared so often that it usually escapes scrutiny: that Zionism is a hateful, hierarchical and prejudiced ideology. That claim is a lie. And it is time for all decent people to call it out for what it is: a distortion of truth and an assault on Jewish identity. Zionism is the movement for Jewish self-determination in our ancestral homeland. No more and no less. It is the belief, rooted in millennia of longing, prayer and historical connection, that the Jewish people – like any other people on earth – have the right to live in safety and sovereignty in the land of their origin. It does not agitate against the welfare of Palestinians. Which is why an overwhelming majority of Jews see no contradiction between holding Zionism at the core of their Jewish identity, whilst simultaneously feeling deep pain in seeing the plight of innocent Palestinians, whose suffering has been deliberately engineered by Hamas. It is not complex or obscure. And yet so often, it is those who most bitterly despise Zionism who presume to define it. We would never allow a misogynist to define feminism, or a white supremacist to define civil rights. Why, then, do we tolerate definitions of Zionism authored by those who openly revile it? This is not honest critique. It is the weaponisation of language to erase legitimacy. It is a calculated effort to make the word 'Zionism' so toxic, that anyone who dares to identify with it is instantly cast out from the bounds of polite society. It is guilt by association. And for Jews around the world, it is intended to create a form of ideological exile. Zionism, we are told by its critics, is a colonial project. But how can a people be colonisers when they have no other homeland? The Jewish connection to the land of Israel is not a product of the 20th century. It is a 3,000-year-old relationship embedded in our scriptures, our liturgy, our language, and our identity. To suggest otherwise is not simply to misunderstand Jewish history – it is to falsify it. And when that falsehood is circulated by those in positions of influence, it does profound harm. It legitimises the marginalisation of Jews who dare to stand up for their people's right to exist in dignity and peace. It emboldens those who would like to see the only Jewish state in the world wiped off the map. And, as we have seen once again so tragically this week, it bleeds seamlessly into antisemitism and violence. The murders in Washington DC were devastating but not surprising. For so long we have seen synagogues defaced, Jewish students harassed, and businesses or organisations with even the most tenuous links to Judaism or Israel vandalised. Not because of anything they have done, but because of what they are presumed to represent. Because of 'Zionism'. The irony, of course, is that Zionism is one of the most remarkable movements for liberation in modern history. In just a few generations, it transformed a traumatised, exiled people into a thriving democracy. It created a home for refugees from over 100 countries and offered sanctuary to Holocaust survivors and victims of persecution from Iraq to Ethiopia, and from Russia to Yemen. As Israel's Declaration of Independence makes clear, Zionism has always had peace at the core of its national aspiration. To appropriate the tragedy of a war in order to portray it as a malevolent force – as a synonym for racism or supremacy – is not criticism. It is demonisation. It is a deliberate inversion of truth that seeks to rob Jews of their right to speak and act for themselves. Zionism is not hate, but hope. It is the hope of a people scattered to the winds and returned to their roots. It is the hope of parents raising their children in a land their ancestors only dreamed of seeing. It is the hope of a refugee stepping off a plane and hearing their own language sung in the streets. It is the hope of a nation that, despite all it has endured, still clings to the belief that one day, peace might yet be possible. That is Zionism. And it is a story worth telling – not through the distorted lens of its detractors, but through the direct and personal experiences and aspirations of those of us who call it our own. Most people will not give a second thought to the ease with which a high-profile BBC presenter, with no apparent understanding of Jewish identity, would so readily amplify a video which demonises such a fundamental aspect of it. But it could not be clearer that the consequences of that demonising narrative are truly dangerous. We must do better. We cannot allow the enemies of Zionism to define it. For to surrender that ground is to surrender not only the truth, but the dignity and safety of a people whose greatest aspiration is that one day, Israel – the indigenous and historic homeland of the Jewish People – can exist securely and freely, in peace with its neighbours and the wider region as an equal member of the family of nations.
New York Times
09-05-2025
- Politics
- New York Times
A Jewish Celebration at the E.P.A. Also Has Some Jewish Critics
It was a moment of religious reflection, perhaps a rare one, in a Washington federal building. Lee Zeldin, the first Jewish administrator of the Environmental Protection Agency, on Thursday affixed a mezuza — a parchment scroll inscribed with Jewish prayers, encased in a small rectangular case — to the door frame of his wood-paneled executive office at the agency's headquarters on Pennsylvania Avenue. The grandson and great-grandson of rabbis, Mr. Zeldin invited the media, saying he wanted to offer others 'a moment to take a break from their normal routine, and to reflect and think about some other spiritual aspects of their day and their life.' He was joined by other members of the Trump administration and representatives from several Jewish organizations. A rabbi attached a second mezuza to another door frame inside the office suite. A mezuza has verses from the Torah, which commands Jews to inscribe those Hebrew words 'on the door posts of your house.' A mezuza is not required in the workplace, but they are increasingly common in Washington. Several members of Congress have placed mezuzas at their office doors. And, during the Biden administration, Doug Emhoff, the husband of former Vice President Kamala Harris, affixed one at the entryway of their official residence. Many Jewish religious leaders praised Mr. Zeldin for publicly celebrating his identity. But for Jewish environmental activists, the reflection was on something different: Mr. Zeldin's role in weakening rules designed to limit pollution and global warming. The obligation to repair the world, or tikkun olam, is a central concept of Judaism. But in his position as leader of the E.P.A., Mr. Zeldin is overseeing a profound overhaul of the agency. He is seeking to reduce staffing to levels last seen during the Reagan administration and working to weaken or repeal more than 30 regulations — all of which are considered burdensome by oil, gas and coal companies — that protect the air, water and climate. Those regulations include limits on greenhouse gas pollution from automobiles and power plants; restrictions on mercury, a neurotoxin that can cause developmental problems in infants and children; and limits on fine particulate matter, one of the most common and deadliest forms of air pollution. 'His repealing dozens of environmental protections is an assault on Jewish values, and I would even say a desecration of Jewish values,' said Rabbi Jennie Rosenn, the founder of Dayenu, a Jewish nonprofit climate organization. There is no single interpretation of how Judaism addresses environmental protection. But Jewish tradition teaches, as do other religious groups, that people are stewards of God's creation. In addition to affixing the mezuza, a rabbi on Thursday also inscribed on parchment Hebrew passages from Genesis and Deuteronomy that are related to the environment and that will be incorporated into a new Torah being created in Washington. One was a commandment to 'work and guard' the Earth. Another passage said, 'Do not destroy its trees, for man is like a tree in the field.' Rabbi Jonah Dov Pesner, the director of the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism, said he was moved by Mr. Zeldin's decision to hang a mezuza by his office door and called it a 'beautiful thing.' But he, too, said he was concerned by Mr. Zeldin's actions as E.P.A. administrator. 'The levers of government can either be pulled to protect the planet and to keep creatures healthy and thriving, or they can be pulled in a way that would preference either corporate interests or the accumulation of wealth at the expense of the planet,' Rabbi Pesner said. 'Our hope for Administrator Zeldin is that as he refines the regulations, that they will be grounded in the same values of not only Jewish tradition but other faith traditions that love this Earth that God gave us,' he said. When asked about those criticisms on Thursday, Mr. Zeldin drew a line between faith and policymaking. 'I am not going to start analyzing the decisions we have to make inside of this building based off various interpretations of everyone's religion across this country,' he said. 'It's based off the law, and our obligations, and the merits and the science.' Others defended Mr. Zeldin's actions. 'To the extent Zeldin is saying we need smart regulations or need to make sure the economy is growing while we also protect the air and water, that's not inconsistent with Jewish values,' said Alex Brill, a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute, a conservative policy research group. 'I don't say that as a Jewish scholar, I say it as a Jewish guy' said Mr. Brill, who has advocated for a carbon price to address climate change. 'We need to protect our environment and we need to protect our economy.' Representative Randy Fine, Republican of Florida, who is Jewish, attended the E.P.A. ceremony and called Mr. Zeldin's mezuza 'a proud statement of our faith.' He also dismissed the criticism by Jewish environmental leaders. 'Look, I think there's a lot of people who use Jewish values very conveniently,' he said, adding, 'I think President Trump has been given an overwhelming mandate to run this country.' Herb Leventer, a professor of philosophy and environmental ethics at Yeshiva University in New York, said it was difficult to specify what Judaism says about sustainability since the Torah has 'a zillion complexities' and apparent contradictions. For example, he said, there is a justification in the Torah for chopping down trees, but it also says that, even at a time of war, a tree that bears fruit must not be felled. Mr. Leventer, who is Orthodox, criticized Mr. Zeldin's event and said he felt a public display of religiosity, particularly by a political figure, was inappropriate. 'It's a common enough thing,' he said of hanging a mezuza in a place of work. But, Mr. Leventer said, 'The public ceremony nature of it in the context of politics leaves a bad taste.' Mr. Zeldin's great-grandfather, Moshe Efraim Zeldin, was an Orthodox rabbi who immigrated from Russia in the early 1900s, and was a leader of the early Zionist movement in Brooklyn. His great-uncle was Rabbi Isaiah Zeldin, who founded the Stephen Wise Temple in Los Angeles, and his grandfather, Rabbi Abraham Jacob Zeldin, founded Farmingdale Jewish Center, a synagogue on Long Island. On Thursday, Rabbi Levi Shemtov, the executive vice president of American Friends of Lubavitch, who led the E.P.A. ceremony, recited the Shema, a central prayer in Judaism, with Mr. Zeldin. Rabbi Shemtov said the administrator's great-grandfather 'couldn't imagine in his wildest dreams that this would be happening here.'
