The Nuremberg Trials were a turning point in human history — the moment when the world first declared that an international tribunal would hold individuals to account for their actions during wartime. For the first time, “crimes against humanity” entered the global vocabulary, forever changing how nations view justice, morality, and responsibility.  No longer would those who committed atrocities be able to hide behind the defense that they were merely following orders.

Nearly eight decades later, as historical awareness fades and denial spreads, revisiting Nuremberg isn’t just an academic exercise — it’s a moral imperative. The trials remind us that law can confront evil, that truth must be documented, and that justice, however delayed, is possible. Understanding what happened in that courtroom helps us defend the principles of human dignity and accountability that the modern world depends on.

The new film Nuremberg – directed by James Vanderbilt and starring Russell Crow as senior Nazi Hermann Goering and Rami Malek as US Army psychiatrist Douglass Kelley who becomes obsessed with the nature of evil as he evaluates Goering and other Nazi’s standing trial –reignites a vital conversation about justice, truth, and moral responsibility. In a world where denial and distortion of history persist, Nuremberg reminds us that facing evil with accountability remains one of civilization’s greatest tests.

Rami Malek portrays Douglass Kelley in the film Nuremberg

Here are ten key facts that help explain why the Nuremberg Trials remain one of the most important events in modern history.

1. Twenty-Two Senior Nazis On Trial

In the summer of 1945, as World War II drew to a close, the victorious Allied powers created an “International Military Tribunal” (IMT) to prosecute “the major war criminals of the European Axis”.  (A second IMTFE, or IMT of the Far East prosecuted war crimes by Japanese forces.)

The IMT’s first trial began in October 1945 and concluded one year later. In this groundbreaking trial, a team of British, French, American and Soviet judges and prosecutors tried 22 senior Nazi officials and seven Nazi organizations for horrific crimes.  Defendants included Rudolf Hess, Hitler’s deputy; Joachim von Ribbentrop, German’s Foreign Minister; Albert Speer, Germany’s Minister of Armaments who institute a wide-ranging slave labor program; Alfred Rosenberg, who ruled Nazi Germany’s occupied Eastern Territories; and Hermann Goring, head of the Luftwaffe.  In addition, Nazi organizations such as the SS and the Gestapo were put on trial.

2. Two Other Nazis Never Made It

Two Nazis who were charged in the Nuremberg Trials never made it to court.  Robert Ley, head of the German Labor Front, took his own life the day before the trial began.  Gustav Krupp von Bohlen und Halbach, the head of the Reich Association of Industry, was deemed too ill to stand trial (though he was brought to court in later proceedings).  Both men were responsible for the enslavement, torture, starvation, and agonizing deaths of millions of people during the war.

3. The Promise to Bring Nazis to Account

Faced with the Nazis’ unprecedented cruelty, Allied leaders began making plans to try Nazi leaders while the war was still being fought. One milestone in the quest for justice was the 1943 Declaration of Atrocities, signed by US President Franklin D. Roosevelt, Soviet Premier Joseph Stalin, and British Prime Minister Winston Churchill, which promised to bring Nazis to account should the allies win the war:

The United Kingdom, the United States, and the Soviet Union have received from many quarters evidence of atrocities, massacres and cold-blooded mass executions which are being perpetrated by Hitlerite forces in many of the countries they have overrun…those German officers and men and members of the Nazi party who have been responsible for or have taken a consenting part in the above atrocities, massacres and executions will be sent back to the countries in which their abominable deeds were done in order that they may be judged and punished according to the laws of these liberated countries of free governments which will be erected therein….

In 1945, it was decided to hold the first trials of Nazi officials in the German city of Nuremberg, which had been the site of some of the largest pro-Nazi rallies before and during the war.

4. Judges from Four Nations

The Nuremberg Trials were the first time in recorded history that judges from four nations presided over a trial together.  Britain, France, and the Soviet Union each sent two judges; the United States sent three judges.  (Only one judge from each country had voting powers.)  Lord Justice Geoffrey Lawrence from Great Britain served as the Chief Justice in the trials.

Judges at the Nuremberg War Crimes Trials. From left to right: General Ion Nikitchenko (Russian judge), Sir Norman Birkett, Sir Geoffrey Lawrence, and Francis Biddle (United States judge).

5. Simultaneous Translation

In 1945, consecutive translation was the norm: translators would listen to a speaker, then translate their words, line by line.  Given the enormous scope of the Nuremberg Trials, this method was far too slow.

Translators at the Nuremberg Trials

Using cutting edge technology produced by IBM, the Nuremberg Trials broadcast testimony to a team of over 100 translators who translated what was being said into English, German, Russian, and French.  Additional translators in Polish, Yiddish, and other languages stood by to help when needed.

Since the translators could only translate 60 words a minute, far slower than most speech, each microphone in the trial was fitted out with two lights: one yellow and one red.  When translators wanted speakers to slow down, they flashed the yellow light; they could also ask speakers to pause by flashing the red light.

6. Paved the Way for Individuals to be Tried for War Crimes

A major departure during the trials was the decision to try individuals, not states, for war crimes. The prosecution was led by Justice Robert H. Jackson, a US Supreme Court Justice who flew to Nuremberg to prosecute these historic trials.

It was crucial to Justice Jackson that the defendants did not hide behind national law to defend their actions. The fact their heinous crimes they committed were legal and even celebrated within Nazi Germany was no justification. The Nuremberg Trials established the principle that there is a higher law of human action.  In his opening speech to the court, Justice Jackson noted that in Nuremberg, “the real complaining party in this trial is civilization.”

7. Using the Term “Genocide”

Raphael Lemkin, a Jewish legal scholar who’d escaped from Europe, helped prepare the US case for the Nuremberg Trials and invented the term Genocide.

Born in 1900 in Poland, Lemkin became a lawyer and advocated for laws protecting the rights of minority groups. He warned that the Ottoman Turkish genocide against Armenians in 1915 could be repeated against other groups. Lemkin escaped Poland after the Nazi invasion, moved to the United States, and found work documenting Nazi atrocities for the US Government.  When Lemkin arrived in Europe in 1945 for the Nuremberg Trials, he found out that 49 members of his family had been murdered by the Nazis.

Raphael Lemkin

Lemkin coined the term “genocide” in his 1944 book Axis Rule in Occupied Europe and was able to get the word entered into some charges at the Nuremberg Trials.  His definition was:

By ‘genocide’ we mean the destruction of a nation or an ethnic group.  This new word, coined by the author to denote an old practice in its modern development, is made from the ancient Greek word genos (race, tribe), and the Latin cide (killing)...

8. The Crimes

Although Jews and other groups such as Gypsies had been marked for “extermination” and decimated by the Nazis, no defendant at Nuremberg was charged with genocide.  Crimes fell under three broad categories.

“Crimes Against Peace” included charges that defendants planned, prepared, and initiated a war of aggression. (The fact that the Soviet Union had been allied with Germany at the beginning of the war before switching alliances caused some tension during the trials.)

Defendants were also accused of War Crimes, defined as “murder, ill-treatment or deportation to slave labor or for any other purpose of civilian population of or in occupied territory, murder or ill-treatment of prisoners of war or persons on the seas, killing of hostages, plunder of public or private property, wanton destruction of cities, towns, or villages, or devastation not justified by military necessity.”

A final category of charges included Crimes Against Humanity: “namely, murder, extermination, enslavement, deportation, and other inhumane acts committed against any civilian population, before or during the war, or persecutions on political, racial, or religious grounds…”

Over the course of nearly a year, for 216 court sessions, witnesses recounted the horrific crimes they’d witnessed.  One typical day, for example, the court heard the testimony of “citizens M.F. Petrenko and N.T. Gorbacheva, who lived near Babi Yar,” the site where Nazi and sympathetic Ukrainian civilians murdered 100,000 people, mostly Jews. The witnesses “stated that they had seen how the Germans threw babies into graves, and buried them alive with their dead or wounded parents.  One could see the surface of the ground.  This marked the last struggles of the alive who were buried.”

Another typical piece of evidence was given by Rudolf Hoss, the commandant of Auschwitz.

“I was ordered to establish extermination facilities at Auschwitz in June 1941. At that time, there were already in the general government three other extermination camps: Belzek, Treblinka, and Wolzek… I visited Treblinka to find out how they carried out their extermination.  The Camp Commander at Treblinka told me that he had liquidated 80,000 in the course of one half year.  He was principally concerned with liquidating all the Jews from the Warsaw Ghetto.  He used monoxide gas, and I did not think that his methods were very efficient.  So when I set up the extermination building at Auschwitz, I used Cyclon B…It took from 3 to 15 minutes to kill the people in the death chamber…To know when the people were dead because their screaming stopped….”

9. Not Everyone Was Found Guilty

When the verdicts for the Nuremberg Trials were read out on October 1, 1946, three defendants were acquitted: German banker Hjalmar Schacht, a close ally of Hitler who participated in a failed assassination attempt against Hitler in 1944; Franz von Papen, who helped pave the way for Hitler to assume power; and Nazi propagandist Hans Fritsche.

Four defendants were sentenced to prison terms between ten and twenty years: submarine commander Karl Donitz; Hitler Youth leader Baldur von Schirach, Armaments Minister Albert Speer, who also participated in a plot to assassinate Hitler; and senior Nazi leader Kostantin von Neurath.

Former submarine commander Erich Raeder, Economics Minister Walther Funk, and Hitler’s former deputy commander Rudolf Hess were all sentenced to life in prison.  (They did not serve their life sentences: Rader was released in 1955; Funk was released in 1957; and Hess took his own life in 1987.)

Twelve defendants were sentenced to death: Hans Frank, who ruled occupied Poland; Wilhelm Frick, Germany’s Interior Ministry who helped create Nazi Germany’s race laws; Alfred Rosenberg, who served as Germany’s Minister for the Eastern Occupied Territories; Ernst Kaltenbrunner, chief of the Gestapo and Einsatzgruppen killing teams; Joachim von Ribbentrop, Nazi Germany’s Foreign Minister; Fritz Sauckel, an architect of Germany’s slave labor program; Alfred Jodl, head of the Wehrmacht; Arthur Seyss-Inquart, a senior Nazi who ruled over occupied Austria, Poland, and the Netherlands; Martin Bormann, Secretary of the Nazi Party; and Hermann Goring, Hitler’s one-time second in command.

Russel Crowe portrays Hermann Goering in the new film Nuremberg

Ten of the guilty prisoners were executed. Martin Bormann was found guilty in absentia; he likely took his own life at the end of the war and his remains were found years later in Berlin. Hermann Goering, the subject of the new film Nuremberg, took his own life the night before his scheduled execution. He’d told confidantes that he felt his sentence of hanging wasn’t a dignified death.

10. Twelve Additional War Crimes Trials at Nuremberg

Between 1946 and 1949, legal teams from the US, Britain, Soviet Union and France carried out another dozen trials of senior Nazis at Nuremberg.  The first among these began in December 1946.  Known as the “Doctors’ Trial,” this proceeding heard evidence against 23 German doctors accused of crimes against humanity.  Other joint trials in Nuremberg focused on Nazi killing squads, the SS, industrialists who used slave labor, and senior members of Nazi Germany’s military and government.

Ignorance about the Holocaust is at an all-time high. One recent poll found that half of all young people in the United States were unable to categorically state that the Holocaust is not a myth.  Worldwide, only about half of all people have even heard of the Nazi Holocaust.

In the face of so much disinterest and outright denial, it’s more crucial than ever to educate ourselves about the Holocaust.

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Step into a world where art, history, and faith intertwine — a journey through the majestic synagogues that have graced Europe for centuries. These sacred spaces are more than architectural marvels; they are living testaments to the endurance, creativity, and spiritual depth of Jewish life across the Old Continent.

Each synagogue, whether standing proudly in a bustling capital or hidden away in a quiet town, tells its own story — of devotion and exile, of resilience and rebirth. From the monumental Great Synagogue of Budapest to the luminous Spanish Synagogue of Prague, from the ornate sanctuaries of Venice to the refined elegance of London and Amsterdam, these edifices reveal a Europe once resplendent with Jewish culture and community. Even the forgotten gems of Romania and the subtle harmonies of Italy’s hidden synagogues speak of a shared legacy that refuses to fade.

The following photographs are drawn from “The Synagogues of the Exiles”, an exquisite art volume illustrated with 180 never-before-seen images that capture the soul of 80 synagogues across 17 European countries, alongside five architectural treasures from North America that echo their European counterparts.

Bordeaux, France

Designed by the architect Charles Durand, after nearly a decade of fundraising and negotiations, the new Grande Synagogue of Bordeaux opened its doors on September 5, 1882, offering a sanctuary for peace and prayer just before the High Holy Days.

Synagogue de la Victoire, Paris, France

The Synagogue de la Victoire was inaugurated on September 9, 1874, just in time for Rosh Hashanah. It took a few more months to complete the interior, with the synagogue opening fully to the public in 1875. The sanctuary is the work of architect Alfred Philippe Aldrophe. A knight of the Legion of Honor and architect for the City of Paris, Aldrophe understood both the requirements of the Jewish community and their new customs. Romanesque in style, the building is adorned with Byzantine moldings and follows a basilica layout.

Casale Monferrato, Italy

Nestled in northern Italy, between Turin and Milan, this town stood at the crossroads of countless battles from the 15th to the 18th centuries. The Jewish community, long settled here, took an active role in defending the territory — even financing the construction of its fortifications. Despite enduring many restrictions, they remained steadfast, determined never to face exile again. Their unwavering loyalty earned them rare privileges, first from Duke Gonzaga in 1560 and later from the Duke of Savoy in 1708. Yet these honors did not divert the faithful from their true source of devotion: the synagogue.

Located in an unassuming alley in the center of the Ghetto, the Synagogue of Casale Monferrato is the oldest in Piedmont. It was inaugurated in 1595 during Sukkot, as attested by the inscription: “This plaque commemorates the fact that in the year 5355-1595 this oratory was erected in honor of the God of Israel.”

Lausanne, Switzerland

On November 7, 1910 (5 Heshvan 5671), the Synagogue of Lausanne was officially inaugurated. Situated in the prestigious Belle Fontaine district, the synagogue stands out as a beacon and a landmark, embodying both civic presence and the heart of Jewish communal life.
The synagogue was the result of collaboration between renowned architects Charles Frédéric Bonjour, Adrien Van Dorsser, and Oscar Oulevey.

Augsbourg, Germany

In 1913, the community entrusted the realization of this modern and ambitious project to the young Jewish architect Fritz Landauer. Collaborating with Dr. Heinrich Lompel, they conceived a building that embraced Art Nouveau with Moorish and Art Deco influences. During Kristallnacht in November 1938, the temple suffered significant damage but survived. During World War II, its proximity to a fuel depot spared it from the bombings. A near-miraculous survival, as countless other Jewish places of worship were utterly destroyed by the Nazi regime. Majestic, charismatic, and deeply moving, the Augsburg Synagogue stands as one of the city’s most important monuments.

Łańcut, Poland

The Łańcut Synagogue is one of the few surviving examples of Poland’s rich Jewish architectural heritage. It epitomizes the four-pillar synagogue style with majestic vaulted ceilings found throughout the region. While most of its original interior has been lost, a watercolor painted after 1786 by Polish landscape artist Zygmunt Vogel (under the pseudonym Ptashek) offers a rare glimpse of its past glory. The stone edifice measures 18 meters by 15 meters and stands on land that once belonged to the Lubomirski family, members of Poland’s high nobility and longtime owners of the city. Its modest exterior façade belies the stunning polychrome decorations, stucco work, and Torah scenes that adorn its interior. The synagogue’s floor, located below ground level, reflects a clever architectural workaround to comply with Church restrictions on synagogue height. Descending a few steps from the entrance, worshippers would enter a bright, airy prayer hall.

Plzen, Czech Republic

In 1867, a new constitution granted Jews political and religious equality, paving the way for the magnificent synagogue. With a population of 3,000, the Jewish community of Plzeň embarked on building a sanctuary as sumptuous as it was monumental. Their ambition was first entrusted to Viennese architect Max Fleischer, who envisioned towers soaring 65 meters high, reminiscent of Budapest’s Great Synagogue. However, this grandeur exceeded both the project’s budget and the city council’s approval, as nothing was to overshadow the skyline dominated by St. Bartholomew’s Cathedral. A more measured approach was taken with architect Emanuel Klotz, who revised the plans, lowering the towers by 20 meters and optimizing the space to accommodate 1,200 seats. Construction began in 1888, with the cornerstone laid on the 40th anniversary of Emperor Franz Joseph I’s coronation. A few years later, the Velká Synagoga opened its doors on Thursday, September 7, 1893, just in time for the Jewish New Year, 5654.

Interior view:

Texts and photos are from the book “The Synagogues of the Exiles” 

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My sense of direction is terrible and I rely heavily on Google Maps. Today's maps tell you exactly what to expect if you wander from the safety of your couch. In the medieval world, maps often played a different function. Their cryptic lands populated by fantastical beasts and popular legends were meant to convey the mystery and danger of what lies beyond the familiar.

But in 1375, on a small island in the Mediterranean, a Jewish craftsman attempted a balance between accuracy and awe. His name was Abraham Cresques, and his Catalan Atlas would become one of the most influential maps of the Middle Ages.

Cresques lived in Palma, Majorca—a crossroads of merchants, sailors, and scholars. Known as a “master of maps and compasses,” he was fluent in the sciences and languages that passed through the ports of the Mediterranean. His patrons were Christian kings but his sources were global: Jewish astronomy, Islamic geography, and travelers’ reports from as far as China.

Many medieval maps were more statements of faith than science. They were meant to teach a worldview, not help a traveler find his way. Cresques's era saw a movement towards precision and utility, and yet his Catalan Atlas did not abandon its medieval roots. It joined the accuracy of new navigational data with the wonder of the stories people told about the world.

In West Africa, we find an image of Mansa Musa, the wealthy ruler of Mali, holding a golden orb in his outstretched hand. In Asia, the Mongol emperor oversees the trade routes Marco Polo had described. And, if we look carefully at the edge of the map, we find that Cresques concealed a powerful message for Jewish life in a hostile world.

Jews at the Edge of the Map

The Jews of 14th-century Majorca were in a precarious position. Their property rights were limited, and they were required to wear identifying yellow badges. Yet, many became indispensable through learning, craftsmanship, and trade. Abraham Cresques and his son Yehudah—who would later be forced to convert—lived in a fragile space between respect and danger.

The Atlas brings this anxiety to life. Gog and Magog—the apocalyptic threat foretold in Jewish prophecies—lurk as hostile nations at the map's edge. As art historian Dr. Ariel Fein notes, “for Cresques, living in a period of increased persecution under Christian rulers, it highlighted a messianic hope for the lost tribes to cross the River Sambatyon and herald the coming of a Jewish messiah and an independent Jewish future.”¹

At the same time, Cresques held out hope for his particular historical moment. We can see this in his surprising choice of illustrations. Though commissioned by a Christian king, Cresques included regal images of foreign rulers as well. Fein draws attention to just how unusually these rulers are portrayed: “not as foreign or menacing, but rather as respected, powerful, and prosperous political rivals.” Cresques illustrated a global society in which difference did not necessarily imply conflict; in which powerful civilizations could potentially coexist.

In Cresques's hands, the world as it is overlaps with the world as it could be. His map is both a navigational tool and a moral vision, acknowledging the perils that surround us while still insisting that history has direction and purpose. In an age like ours—algorithmically precise but often empty of meaning—Cresques reminds us that finding our way requires both spatial and spiritual orientation.

Mapping the Modern World

Cresques used his work to articulate a vision of balance that speaks directly to our time. In an age of exaggerated dichotomies—science vs. faith, national pride vs. global solidarity—his map suggests that the world is big enough to embrace them all.

And like Cresques’s world, our lives also need a center. His map placed Jerusalem in the middle of everything—a symbolic heart that held the pieces together. Each of us has to decide what sits at the center of our own map. Is it faith, family, conscience, or something else?

The Land of Israel at the center of the map, with the biblical Red Sea painted in bright red. Cresques includes a note that this is where the children of Israel escaped from the Egyptians.²

We may not sail medieval seas, but we are still charting our place in a vast and complicated world. Cresques reminds me that the goal isn’t only to draw the world accurately, but to live within it wisely—to keep our values at the center while we endlessly explore new horizons.

1. 1 https://smarthistory.org/catalan-atlas/
2. 2 https://www.cresquesproject.net/catalan-atlas-legends/panel-iv

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Before the Holocaust, Yiddish was the lifeblood of Ashkenazi Jewish culture. Spoken by over 11 million Jews across Eastern and Central Europe, it was more than a language—it was a vessel of memory, humor, resistance, and identity. In the shtetls of Poland, the tenements of Vilna, the cafés of Warsaw, and the concert halls of Vienna, Yiddish bound generations through its wit, warmth, and nuance.

The Holocaust destroyed not only a people but their linguistic soul. Today, Yiddish endures in pockets—kept alive by scholars, artists, and Hasidic communities, but its once-vibrant cultural ecosystem lies in fragments. What happens when a language so rich is torn from its native soil? What is lost when a language dies with its speakers?

Yiddish Before the Shoah: A Living World

Yiddish emerged over a millennium ago as a fusion of Germanic, Hebrew, Aramaic, and Slavic elements, written in Hebrew script. It was the lingua franca of European Jewry—not the language of prayer (which was Hebrew), but the language of dreams, arguments, lullabies, and jokes. As Isaac Bashevis Singer, the Nobel laureate who wrote exclusively in Yiddish, once remarked: "Yiddish is the wise and humble language of us all, the idiom of a frightened yet hopeful people."

Synagogues were burned, libraries destroyed, teachers and writers executed. Yiddish, as a marker of Jewish identity, was silenced in the ghettos and incinerated in the camps.

In the early 20th century, Yiddish experienced a renaissance. Newspapers, theater, poetry, philosophy, and political discourse all flourished in Yiddish. It was the language of both revolution and reflection. The Vilna Troupe redefined modern theater. Bundists organized for workers' rights. Poets like Celia Dropkin and Avrom Sutzkever expressed both radicalism and longing. Yiddish was not merely a vernacular—it was a cosmopolitan, diasporic culture, thick with history and saturated with emotion.

Cultural Genocide: Language as a Casualty

The Holocaust wiped out millions of Jewish lives, and systematically erased the very fabric of Jewish culture. Synagogues were burned, libraries destroyed, teachers and writers executed. Yiddish, as a marker of Jewish identity, was silenced in the ghettos and incinerated in the camps. Nazi propaganda ridiculed Yiddish as degenerate. With the murder of six million Jews, entire Yiddish-speaking communities vanished overnight.

The aftermath was equally devastating. Survivors often emigrated to countries where Yiddish was stigmatized as the language of the old world—the language of poverty, shame, and death. In Israel, the new state embraced Hebrew as a symbol of national rebirth, while relegating Yiddish to the shadows. As literary scholar Naomi Seidman has written, “Yiddish came to represent the exile that Zionism sought to overcome” (Seidman, 1997). In America, many immigrant families abandoned Yiddish in favor of English to protect their children from the discrimination they had fled.

In my own family, I witnessed how Yiddish both connected and divided. My mother-in-law, a Polish Holocaust survivor, often expressed herself in Yiddish-inflected English. The sharpness, her cadence, her choice of words—all bore the stamp of her native tongue. At times, I mischaracterized what she said. Her remarks could sound blunt, even insulting, and more than once, we clashed—me, feeling wounded; her, bewildered by my reaction.

Only later did I come to understand that what felt abrasive was just a directness shaped by language and trauma. Her expressions didn’t always translate—not into English, and not into the gentler emotional conventions I was used to. I began to see that Yiddish was the membrane through which her experience passed: earthy, unsentimental, deeply expressive, and steeped in the rhythms of survival.

Yiddish and the Echo of Memory

Post-Holocaust, Yiddish became haunted. It was no longer just a language of the living—it was a language of ghosts. As author Cynthia Ozick writes, Yiddish became “a martyred language,” rich in pathos, spoken by the dead in dreams and by the living in elegy. The sound of Yiddish evokes a world that no longer exists—a vanished Europe of bagel-sellers and revolutionaries, mothers at soup pots, and sons with books under their arms.

Post-Holocaust, Yiddish became a language of ghosts.

Yet to mourn a language is also to acknowledge what it held. Embedded in Yiddish are centuries of Jewish humor, theological debate, immigrant yearning, and resistance. Its idioms reflect a worldview shaped by marginalization and creativity: ironic, skeptical, yet deeply humane. When this language falls silent, so too does an entire modality of understanding suffering and joy.

The Ethics of Cultural Preservation

Today, there is a growing movement to revive and preserve Yiddish. Academic programs, Klezmer festivals, online courses, and theatrical productions have brought new life to the language. But even these efforts confront a moral dilemma: Can a language truly be revived if the world that produced it is gone?

The language may no longer fill the marketplaces of Warsaw or the classrooms of Vilna, but it endures as an act of moral defiance.

Yiddish is endangered, but it continues to pulse beneath the surface of Jewish memory and creativity. As Holocaust scholar Dovid Katz writes, “Yiddish is not dead—it is bruised, whispering, hidden in the walls.” It remains a language of resistance—not only against forgetting, but against erasure itself.

To engage with Yiddish today is to enter into dialogue with absence—to listen for the echoes of a silenced world and to answer them with care. The language may no longer fill the marketplaces of Warsaw or the classrooms of Vilna, but it endures as an act of moral defiance, a refusal to let erasure have the final word. In every revived song or whispered phrase, Yiddish reclaims a fragment of what the Holocaust sought to extinguish: the Jewish capacity for humor, irony, and resilience. To honor Yiddish is not merely to preserve a language—it is to affirm that memory itself can resist extinction, that culture can speak even from the ruins.

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From the battlefields of the Civil War to the mountains of Korea, the jungles of Vietnam, and the deserts of Afghanistan, Jewish Americans have stood shoulder to shoulder with their fellow servicemembers in defense of the nation. Millions have worn the uniform; a courageous few have earned America’s highest military distinction—the Medal of Honor.

Since its creation during the Civil War, the Medal of Honor has recognized acts of valor “above and beyond the call of duty.” Among the more than 3,500 awardees, at least 19 were Jewish Americans. Their stories span centuries, embodying bravery, sacrifice, and devotion to both country and community.

Modern Heroism: Sgt. First Class Christopher A. Celiz

In Afghanistan’s Paktia Province on July 12, 2018, Sergeant First Class Christopher A. Celiz of Summerville, South Carolina, faced an impossible situation. His unit was tasked with clearing an enemy stronghold but encountered a force far larger and better equipped than expected. Pinned down and under heavy machine-gun fire, Celiz sprinted into the open to retrieve a heavy weapon system critical for survival.

As chaos erupted around him, Celiz treated a wounded comrade and acted as a shield so others could reach the evacuation helicopter. Even as the helicopter prepared to lift off, he stood alone, laying down covering fire until he was struck by enemy rounds. His courage saved the lives of his unit and the helicopter crew. In 2021, his sacrifice was recognized with the Medal of Honor—the first awarded to a Jewish American soldier in the Global War on Terror.

The Medal of Honor and Jewish American Service

Created in 1863, the Medal of Honor remains the United States’ most prestigious military award. Presented by the President, it recognizes “conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of life, above and beyond the call of duty.”

At the National Museum of American Jewish Military History in Washington, D.C., a permanent exhibit honors the 19 confirmed Jewish recipients. Michael Rugel, the museum’s Director of Programs and Content, explained, “Nineteen is our current number. There are some ‘who’s a Jew?’ questions that come up, but these are the ones we’ve been able to confirm through years of research.”

That research continues. In fact, recent discoveries have added new names to the list.

Newly Recognized: Eugene Philip Jacobson

In 2021, continuing scholarship confirmed that Civil War veteran Eugene Philip Jacobson was Jewish, adding him to the honored roster. Born in Poland in 1841, Jacobson immigrated to New York, where he enlisted in the Union Army in 1861. Serving with Company B of the 74th New York Infantry, he rose from private to first lieutenant.

At the Battle of Chancellorsville in May 1863, Jacobson led a daring nighttime scouting mission under heavy fire, returning with intelligence that proved vital. His commander praised his “unwavering gallant conduct,” recommending him for the Medal of Honor.

After the war, Jacobson pursued law, served as U.S. District Attorney in Vicksburg, Mississippi, and later became a Colorado state senator. Celebrated in Denver’s Jewish community, he was described as the “crème de la crème of Denver society” before his early death at age 39. His journey—from immigrant to soldier, public servant, and community leader—reflects both the Jewish and American story.

Civil War Valor: David Urbansky

Another Civil War hero, David Urbansky (1843–1897), was born in Prussia and immigrated to Ohio as a teenager. Enlisting in 1861 with the 58th Ohio Volunteer Infantry, he fought with distinction at Shiloh and Vicksburg.

At Vicksburg, Urbansky ran onto the battlefield, lifted his wounded commander from the ground, and carried him to safety despite relentless enemy fire. For his gallantry, he was awarded the Medal of Honor. Over a century later, in 2000, a Civil War enthusiast rediscovered his unmarked grave in Cincinnati. The U.S. government donated a new gravestone, and his heroism was honored with a solemn military ceremony, including a 21-gun salute and taps.

World War I: Sydney Gumpertz

Sydney Gumpertz (1879–1958) embodied the patriotism of a new generation. Born in California and raised in New York, he built a career in advertising before enlisting in 1917.

On September 29, 1918, at the Battle of Bois-de-Forges in France, Gumpertz led a charge against a machine gun nest pinning down his platoon. When his two companions fell wounded, he pressed on alone, leaping into the nest, destroying the gun, and capturing nine enemy soldiers. His Medal of Honor citation praised his “gallantry and intrepidity above and beyond the call of duty.”

After the war, Gumpertz returned to New York, resuming his advertising career while also confronting antisemitism through writing and public speaking. In 1947, he published Jewish Legion of Valor, highlighting Jewish contributions to the U.S. military.

Korean War: Leonard M. Kravitz

The Korean War produced another Jewish Medal of Honor hero—Leonard M. Kravitz (1930–1951), uncle of musician Lenny Kravitz. Raised in Brooklyn, Leonard followed his brother’s example of military service, enlisting in the U.S. Army.

On March 6–7, 1951, near Yang Pyong, his unit faced a ferocious enemy assault. When the machine gunner was hit, Kravitz seized the weapon, holding back the attackers. Ordered to retreat, he stayed behind, continuing to fire until he was overwhelmed and killed. His body was found beside the gun, surrounded by enemy dead.

Though initially awarded only the Distinguished Service Cross, decades of advocacy revealed that bias may have denied him the Medal of Honor. In 2014, President Obama corrected that injustice, awarding Kravitz the Medal posthumously in a White House ceremony honoring minorities overlooked because of race or religion.

A Legacy Across Wars

From Jacobson’s Civil War scouting mission to Celiz’s last stand in Afghanistan, Jewish Medal of Honor recipients embody courage, sacrifice, and patriotism. Their stories highlight not just military heroism but also the broader Jewish American experience—immigrants becoming citizens, confronting prejudice, and contributing to civic life after war.

Complete List of Jewish Medal of Honor Recipients

Civil War: Benjamin Levy, Leo Karpeles, Abraham Cohn, David Urbansky, Eugene Philip Jacobson
Indian Wars: Simon Suhler
Haiti: Samuel Marguiles
World War I: William Shemin, Benjamin Kaufman, William Sawelson, Sydney Gumpertz
World War II: Ben L. Salomon, Isadore Jachman, Raymond Zussman
Korean War: Tibor Rubin, Leonard M. Kravitz
Vietnam War: Jack Jacobs, John Lee Levitow
Global War on Terror: Christopher Celiz

Conclusion

Only 19 Jewish Americans have received the Medal of Honor, but their legacy is immense. They remind us that courage knows no boundaries of faith or background—and that the freedoms we cherish were secured, time and again, by men and women willing to risk everything

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Israel is surrounded by forces set on destroying the Jewish state. Some individual Jews, possessing the hope that assimilation will gain them acceptance into culturally and politically elite circles, betray their coreligionists. Today’s headlines bear a striking resemblance to the battles between the Jewish people and Rome, as a brilliant new book shows. Jews vs. Rome: Two Centuries of Rebellion Against the World’s Mightiest Empire by Barry Strauss rivetingly recounts a tragic history that would conclude, millennia later, with the triumph of Israel.

A People Who Refused to Bow

As Strauss, an Emeritus professor at Cornell University and current Senior Fellow at the Hoover Institution, notes, “During the space of seventy years, the Jews, one of the many people under Roman rule, revolted not once but three times. No other people in the empire—and there were many other rebel nations—had such a record.” The three occasions were the Great Revolt, from 66–74 CE, during which the Second Temple was destroyed; the Diaspora Revolt from 116–117; and the Bar Kokhba Revolt, from 132–136.

From Maccabees to Rome

Following the triumph of the Maccabees, Rome had subdued Judea in 63 BCE. Decades of harsh treatment, including Pontius Pilate’s bringing imperial banners with the image of Tiberius Caesar into the Holy City of Jerusalem and Pilate’s misuse of Temple funds to build a new aqueduct, snowballed into enough of a revolutionary sentiment that the Romans sent a large force to quell it.

Among the anti-Judean antagonists was the nephew of the Jewish philosopher Philo, Tiberius Julius Alexander. Josephus, another Jewish turncoat who serves as historians’ main source for details of the Great Revolt, noted that Tiberius Alexander was “not faithful to his ancestral ways.” The young man chose to, as Strauss recounts, “rise on the career ladder of the Roman army and colonial administration.” So it was that Titus’s chief military advisor during the Roman siege of Jerusalem was a traitorous Jew.

The Fall of Jerusalem

The war was completed with the destruction of the final rebel outpost at Masada in 74. Throughout, Jewish sectarian infighting had diffused any momentum the rebels might have demonstrated. Tens of thousands of Jews were killed or enslaved, and Jerusalem was left in ruins.

Josephus himself had survived by the skin of his teeth. As Strauss documents of the Jewish commander after his capture, “the Judean fought for his life by thinking on his feet. Josephus knew that [commander of the Roman legions] Vespasian would probably send him to Nero in Rome, where he would face execution after being tortured. To prevent that Josephus needed to make himself useful to Vespasian. He did that by prophesying a great future: Vespasian, he said, would become emperor. It worked. Vespasian retained Josephus instead of sending him to Nero.”

Unlike Tiberius, however, Strauss notes, Josephus “retained the faith of his fathers.”

Lessons from Josephus

While Josephus is hardly a figure to be admired, his chronicle of the Revolt has left the Jewish people with both wisdom and a warning: “It is impossible,” writes Strauss, “to read Josephus on the siege of Jerusalem without admiration for Jewish courage combined with horror at Jewish disunity.” One cannot help but conclude, therefore, that when Jews are united, there is no antagonist that can stand in our way.

Meanwhile, the Roman Colosseum was constructed with spoils and slaves from the battle against Jerusalem. Now-emperor Vespasian erected a Templum Pacis—“Temple of Peace.” Completed in 75, it showcased looted objects from the Holy City alongside booty from other wars of conquest. Coins were minted in 80/81 on the tenth anniversary of the Temple’s fall that proudly bragged Judea Capta—“Judea has been conquered.”

Revolt Rekindled

But the Jews would not remain quiet. Though these battles lack a historian of Josephus’s caliber to provide us with the details, the historical record indicates that pockets of revolt sprang up in Jewish communities in Mesopotamia (modern-day Iraq and parts of Syria, Turkey, and Iran) from the summer of 116 to the summer of 117. The Jews there likely fought alongside Gentile neighbors who also didn’t take kindly to Roman rule, possibly urged on by the Parthians, rivals of Rome. “The Romans suffered heavy losses,” Strauss notes, “but they crushed the revolt in the end.”

The Last Stand: Bar Kokhba’s Rebellion

Less than two decades later, revolutionary winds blew again in Judea. Led by Bar Kokhba and his spiritual advisor Rabbi Akiva against the forces of the emperor Hadrian, the Jews fought valiantly for three and a half years. They even briefly achieved independence from the empire.

Eventually, the rebel forces were defeated, with their last stand in Betar, a strongly fortified city outside Jerusalem, on Tisha B’Av—the same date the Temple had been destroyed over sixty years earlier. The Romans then renamed Judea Syria Palestina, borrowing the name from the ancient anti-Jewish antagonists, the Philistines. It is the only known case of Rome changing the name of a rebellious province as punishment.

Rebirth Through Faith

The Jewish people refused to wallow in defeat, however. As Strauss writes, the “nation’s leaders, in this case its rabbis, determined that the Jewish people could survive by means of spiritual rather than material armor. It was a bold strategy, but a necessary one. And it worked. Despite many vicissitudes, despite the threats of persecution, dispersion, and assimilation, the Jewish people have survived for two thousand years since the Roman conquest of its national homeland. Jewish culture remains remarkably similar today to what it was in the Later Roman Empire.”

Return to Zion

Furthermore, as the author triumphantly concludes, after two thousand years, Judea was reborn into the modern State of Israel. “The Jewish people,” Strauss writes, “have reestablished a sovereign state in their ancestral homeland. They kept faith with the promise of Psalm 137 to remember Zion… the Jews have returned to Jerusalem. Their state prospers, but it struggles to find acceptance by its neighbors. Israel is a small state fighting for its place among much larger states and empires, east and west. Amid so many changes in history, some constant remains.”

A Lesson for Our Time

Reading Jews vs. Rome serves as a bloody and tragic testimony—but also a timely guidebook for today. As Israel once again fights for its survival, the book reminds us that when unity of purpose is joined with spiritual strength, no adversary can withstand the power of our faith and resolve.

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For most people October 31 is a day of parties and dressing up in costumes. But just over a century ago, October 31, 1905 was a tragic day, ushering in hundreds of pogroms that killed thousands of Jews across Russia. Crowds surged through the streets, yelling threats, destroying property, and murdering Jewish men, women and children with impunity.

The immediate cause of this seismic wave of violence was the October Manifesto, a declaration from Czar Nicholas II guaranteeing basic freedoms and political rights. Promulgated on October 30, 1905 (sometimes referred to as October 17 on Russia’s “Old Calendar”), the declaration came amid rising political turmoil and the threat of revolution. Instead of calming tensions, the manifesto led to huge demonstrations and riots in many Russian cities. Tragically, it was Russia’s Jews who suffered the most.

In the city of Odessa, crowds rushed into the street to celebrate the manifesto. One student recorded that “a joyous crowd appeared in the streets; people greeted each other as if it were a holiday.” Among the throngs were many Jews who believed the new laws would help grant them long-sought legal rights. But violent scuffles soon broke out.

As the mood in Odessa darkened, many Russians began turning on the city’s Jews with almost unimaginable sadism. At first, angry rioters beat Jews in the streets and ransacked the homes and businesses belonging to local Jews. The extreme right-wing anti-Semitic group, the Black Hundreds, entered the fray, encouraging pro-Czar Russians to blame Jews for their country’s ills. When a city official was shot dead, the surging crowds became enraged and attacks accelerated, turning into a violent pogrom that lasted several days. The police either turned a blind eye or eagerly participated in the attacks.

Eyewitnesses described Jews being thrown out of high windows to their deaths. Jewish children were murdered in front of their parents. Rioters targeted Jewish pregnant women, assaulting them and killing some by cutting open their stomachs. Parents were tortured by watching their children die. By the time the pogrom was over, over 400 Jews were dead and about 300 injured in Odessa alone.

October 31 saw hundreds of other pogroms across Russia, mostly in the south. 690 pogroms cost 4,000 Jews their lives; the wave of hatred and murder saw another 10,000 Jews injured.

In the Belarusian town of Rechysta, local Jews, many of whom belonged to Communist and Communist-Zionist groups, organized to defend themselves from murderous mobs. The threat of violence was high: local Black Hundred members issued warnings calling Jews “enemies of the Czar” and demanding Jews’ “extermination”. Police officers distributed rifles to townspeople, and a parish priest announced “the Jews should be killed to a man, since they want to overthrow the Czar.” Violence erupted in the town when some locals beat up Jewish businesswomen and ripped up the dry goods they were selling.

About twenty Jewish men organized and fought back, but were soon hopelessly overwhelmed. One Jewish fighter, Noi Geizentsveig, later explained, “We did not see the enemy during the skirmish, therefore we did not throw the bombs (the Jewish self-defense group had acquired) and responded by aimless shooting." The Jewish fighters were overwhelmed; local thugs shot and stabbed them, yelling “Here is your freedom!” and “Here is your constitution!”, references to the October Manifesto they blamed the Jews for bringing about.

New York Times, November 5

Within hours, eight Jewish fighters were murdered and twelve were wounded. They were dragged to the town’s police station and locked up with no food, water, or medical care, dead fighters together with those still living. Later on, the fighters who were still alive were consigned to house arrest, denied medical care even though some were severely injured.

The final pogrom of the hundreds that started October 31, 1905 was in the town of Bialystok (in present day Poland). Eighty-two Jews were murdered in those few convulsive days of violence, and about 700 people were injured. Czar Nicholas II dispatched officials throughout Russia’s territory to report back on the pogroms, which dissipated nearly as abruptly as they began.

Victims of the Kiev Pogrom

For many Russian Jews, the October 31 pogroms was proof that they had no future in Russia and spurred many to leave. One Russian Jew who fled was the famous Yiddish writer Shalom Aleichem. He and his family watched three days of pogroms overwhelm the Jewish community of Kiev from their hiding spots in one of the town’s hotels. When the violence was over, they hastily made plans to flee Russia, eventually moving to America.

On November 25, 1905, three weeks after the terrifying pogrom and just before he left Russia for good, Shalom Aleichem wrote to a friend in New York, Dr. Maurice Fishberg, begging him to use his influence with American Jews to encourage the United States not to help Czar Nicholas II (who was embroiled in the Russo-Japanese War and was looking for a loan). After watching his fellow Jews murdered in cold blood, Shalom Aleichem, like many Russian Jews, despaired of Jews’ future there. “Six million Jews” in Russia could be “murdered” there, the author wrote, in a long, impassioned letter about Russian politics and the war.

Over a century after the horrible spasm of violence that consumed much of Russia, we owe it to the many thousands of Russian Jews massacred in the pogroms of October 31, 1905, to remember their deaths and honor their memories.

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Our forefather Abraham changed the course of history. He altered the way the world thought about itself, life and especially the Creator. That is why his name, in Hebrew, means, “Father of Numerous Nations.” He is the father of civilization as we know it. From his time and onwards people would never think about themselves the same way.

He was born in a time of tremendous upheaval and turmoil. Abraham lived in a world with a collective memory of the Flood; a world contending with the tyranny of Nimrod, the first true tyrant; a world that will divide into separate nations; a world deeply at conflict with itself that will endure more than two decades of war between major powers; a world buried under the heel of a thousand years of idolatry; a world gone mad – ultimately, a world with no hope for the future.

Until Abraham appeared.

The Tyranny of Idolatry

He was born in Mesopotamia, modern-day Iraq and Iran. His father Terach was a merchant who sold idols. Selling idols was big business in those days. There was a different one for every mood, temperament and personality.

The masses believed in paganism. They were frightened of it. However, the more sophisticated people knew it was nothing, but as far as they could see they was no other alternative. There was no other philosophy in the world. They did not have the tools to go beyond it.

Abraham provided the leadership to change all that.

He traveled a number of times from Mesopotamia to what would become the Land of Israel. He was not alone in his travels. It was a time of great movement and migration. Great cities and city-states were springing up, each with their own unique culture and deities.

Jerusalem was called Shalem (Salem) at the time. According to the Oral Tradition, Noah’s son Shem, and his grandson Eber, started and headed an academy located there dedicated to the traditions of the Creator and morality. The knowledge and philosophy of monotheism were developed there. However, it did not have a large following. It was an ivory tower that did not influence society. One had to go to it; it was not exported to others.

Abraham changed that. Every place he went he opened an “inn” and offered people a free meal. When people came to thank him he told them, “Don’t thank me. Thank the One who gave us everything.”

Likewise, wherever he settled he opened a school. In our terms, we would say he established institutions of social welfare and education. Through those institutions he was able to reach thousands and thousands if not millions of people.

Historians say that a number of the Pharaohs were essentially monotheists. Not coincidentally, those Pharaohs lived around and after the time of Abraham. His visit to Egypt (Genesis 12) made an impression. The idea of monotheism took hold in the highest echelons of Egyptian society. However, they had no way to sell it to the masses because there was a tremendous bureaucracy of idol worship. None of the priests in the temples were going to give it up. Egyptian society remained pagan because the infrastructure of idol worship was so strong that the Pharaoh himself could not turn it around. Whether they believed it or not, the priests were not going to give up their jobs.

Outside of Egypt, however, Abraham’s name spread rapidly among the masses. His ideas, character and personality became the talk of the civilized world. He roused the world from the slumber of paganism. Now there was an echo within countless individual families that there is a God, morality and a greater purpose to life.

Family Life

Abraham married Sarah, who was a great person in her own right. Even without Abraham she would have been a tremendous force to reckon with in the world. God told Abraham to listen to Sarah, because, Tradition has it, she was greater in prophecy than Abraham was.

Nevertheless, these two great people had a long and difficult life together. Sarah was barren for many years. In trying to remedy the situation, Sarah asked Abraham to bear a child for her through her maidservant, Hagar. Ultimately, the child born from her, Ishmael, caused many problems. Eventually, God told Abraham to banish Hagar and Ishmael from his household, which was extremely difficult for him.

Abraham had a nephew, Lot, whom he hoped would be his heir apparent, but once Lot tasted success he decided to go his own way and settle in Sodom. Lot is not necessarily an evil person; he just does not want to shoulder any responsibilities – and Sodom is the ideal place for a person who wants to escape responsibility.

Domestic strife in Abraham’s house is omnipresent. All he wants to do is build civilization through his family and all his family does is fall short of the task or forsake him.

The Covenant

Finally, when Abraham was seventy years old he had a great vision known as the “Covenant between the Parts” (Genesis 15). This covenant singled out him and his family for a special existence in humanity. It is really the beginning of the Jewish story. Indeed, Jewish history cannot be understood properly except through the lens of covenantal theory.

This special covenant is a two-way commitment between God and the Jewish people that will unleash forces to compel it to continue, including horrific suffering. And that is why Abraham is at first terror-stricken by the vision. He sees darkness, vultures and fire. He sees the enslavement in Egypt and the destructions that will come upon the Jewish people throughout history. He sees Auschwitz.

Nevertheless, far from a punishment leading to annihilation, the suffering of the Jewish people will ultimately make them stronger and bring them back to their commitment to the covenant. And we have seen this borne out in history again and again. Just look at the enormous advances of the Jewish world after the Holocaust, which is only the most recent example of this phenomenon.

Jewish history begins with Abraham's acceptance of the covenant. Whatever happens to the Jewish people is a result of that covenant. All the ups and downs are based on its predictions.

In reality, Abraham’s choice is the choice that faces each and every generation, indeed each and every Jew. The struggle within the Jewish people to live by the covenant and pursue its goals or to give up on it — as well as the struggle of the world to break the covenant from them – is part and parcel of the struggle implied by acceptance of the covenant.

Beyond Impossible

Of course, at the time Abraham is offered to enter into the covenant there is one technical problem: he has no children and his wife is incapable of having children. She is infertile.

That, too, is part of the covenant: under normal circumstances there is no Jewish future. The Jewish people are always “infertile,” coming face-to-face with the impossible. There cannot be another generation. And the world counts upon it; it is a sure thing that they will disappear.

After 3,000 years they are still waiting for it to happen.

The future of the Jewish people is that there is no future. On paper it will never add up. The covenant does not rely on logic. It is a truth that exists on a different plane. Who could imagine that after so many years we are still here?

That is the covenantal nature of Jewish history.

The covenant, impressed in the flesh of the Jew through circumcision, emanates from a realm beyond human reason. It is our commitment to our God and a higher morality. It is our faith and our responsibility; our history and destiny.

And it all originates in the great person, Abraham, who single-handedly changed the course of civilization.

This article originally appeared on https://www.jewishhistory.org/

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Leni Riefenstahl remains one of the most polarizing figures of the 20th century. A gifted filmmaker whose propaganda films for Adolf Hitler helped shape the image of the Nazi regime, she spent the decades after World War II insisting she neither embraced Nazi ideology nor knew about the Holocaust.

Now, a new documentary, Riefenstahl, draws from never-before-seen materials in her estate—photographs, film reels, recordings, and letters. Director Andres Veiel reveals a far more troubling portrait: evidence suggesting that Riefenstahl may have been well aware of the atrocities unfolding around her.

Veiel and producer Sandra Maischberger were granted unprecedented, unrestricted access to Riefenstahl’s personal archives. They were surprised by what they found.

Veiel’s journey began when he and producer Sandra Maischberger were granted unprecedented, unrestricted access to Riefenstahl’s personal archives.

“I was thrilled,” he told Aish.com. “Before we could even think about editing, we had to sift through 700 boxes—roughly 200,000 photographs, hundreds of hours of private conversations and phone calls, and countless reels of personal film. The big question was whether her estate actually contained fresh insights. After all, it seemed likely that Riefenstahl had carefully curated and sanitized her archive before her death.”

To his surprise, the deeper Veiel dug, the more unfiltered material he uncovered: handwritten notes, a diary, even drafts of her memoirs—sources that painted a different picture than the one she had presented to the world.

“Among these was a collection of about 25 pages describing her childhood, which differed fundamentally from the published memoirs, particularly regarding her experiences of violence at the hands of her father.”

The documentary traces Riefenstahl’s ascent in the German film industry—first as a celebrated actress, then as a director whose debut captured Hitler’s attention and secured her a commission from the Nazi regime. It also confronts her darkest role: participating in the filming of propaganda scenes that exploited child inmates from a nearby concentration camp as extras.

Beyond her personal archives, Veiel and Maischberger scoured additional collections and reviewed television footage from around the world, piecing together the fullest picture yet of Riefenstahl’s career and complicity.

“We called this the ‘701st box,’ containing everything that was missing from her estate. For instance, we found only a small reference to an interview with Riefenstahl in the Daily Express from 1934, but the interview itself was missing. We then obtained it from the newspaper’s archive. In it, Riefenstahl admitted that in 1932, she had read Hitler’s Mein Kampf and, after just the first few pages, had become an enthusiastic National Socialist.”

Veiel also noted a striking omission: numerous interrogation transcripts from American and French intelligence agencies after Germany’s surrender—records that never made it into Riefenstahl’s carefully managed estate.

Veiel was surprised to discover the depth of Riefenstahl’s emotional ties to Nazism—connections that stood in stark contrast to her lifelong denials.

“In addition, our years-long research uncovered further findings—letters to one of Riefenstahl’s lovers from the postwar years, or private behind-the-scenes footage from the filming of her movie Tiefland. These discoveries particularly intrigued me, as they broadened the narrative beyond the well-worn paths.”

What surprised Veiel most was discovering the depth of Riefenstahl’s emotional ties to Nazism—connections that stood in stark contrast to her lifelong denials.

“Riefenstahl remained loyal to the ideology of the Nazi regime even after the war. That shocked me. I had not expected her to truly repent, but at least to have shown, in private, a bit more critical reflection on her own role. Sadly, that was not the case.”

Director Andres Veiel

One of the film’s pivotal moments comes when Veiel highlights a speech by Joseph Goebbels—an antisemitic tirade whose chilling rhetoric feels disturbingly resonant even today.

“Antisemitic resentment is currently experiencing a massive recurrence, combined with the longing for a nation state in which everything was supposedly better, more orderly and safer in the past. In this context we also quote Leni Riefenstahl. While she was still alive, she hoped that the German people would return to decency and morality; after all, she felt, they had the ability to do so. This quote could also have come from prominent representatives of the AfD, Germany’s far-right, nationalist party.”

Riefenstahl’s constant masking of the truth was the biggest challenge to Veiel.

“She lied the moment she opened her mouth. She denied any shared responsibility for the crimes of the Nazi regime. The older she became, the more rigid she grew. At times, this made it exhausting to engage with her again and again—until I realized: we need to take it one step further, to understand why she lies.”

Veiel points to Riefenstahl’s involvement in the Konskie massacre—an episode that may help explain her lifelong refusal to acknowledge any guilt.

“She wanted to film the funeral of four German soldiers in Konskie, Poland. A group of Jews had been forced to dig a grave for the dead in the village square. The digging men apparently disturbed Riefenstahl’s aesthetic sense. According to an adjutant’s postwar account, she is said to have shouted: ‘Get the Jews out of the picture.’ As a result of her direction, the situation reportedly escalated: the Jews were beaten, tried to flee, shots were fired, and 22 were killed.

“Was her guilt too great, perhaps because she had, however unintentionally, helped trigger one of the first massacres of Jews in the Second World War?... It would make her responsibility far greater than previously assumed.”

“Riefenstahl” will be available on VOD on October 21st on Amazon, Apple, and Google Play.

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They weren’t soldiers. They weren’t armed with tanks, planes, or missiles. They were three Jewish women armed only with wit, courage, and disguises, who quietly altered the course of Middle Eastern history.

In an age when nuclear war in the region seemed inevitable, these Mossad heroines pulled off one of the most daring covert operations ever attempted. Their weapons? A suitcase, a dinner reservation, and a stolen glance of trust.

Their mission? To uncover the truth Syria fought to keep hidden from the world.

As told in the book The Mossad Amazons, this all-female team risked their lives to save ours. This is their story.

Nina

On March 7, 2007, Ibrahim Othman came out of the elevator onto the fourth floor of a luxury hotel. He was about to use his key card to enter his room when he saw something that caught his eye—a woman, Nina, sitting outside her hotel room on the floor, crying.

“Is everything okay, ma’am?” he asked in perfect English.

She was hunched over her suitcase. When she looked up at him, red in the face, she wiped away her tears and said, “I just can’t get it to open.” With both hands, she tried again—unsuccessfully—to open the clasps of the silver suitcase, then banged her fists against it.

Othman suggested she try the reception.

“They’re useless!” she said, exasperated. “Everything is inside! My ID, my papers—everything. I don’t know what to do!”

He bent down and said, “I can try to help you.” He tried opening the clasps, but had no luck.

“Nothing that can be done,” she cried.

He offered to call downstairs.

“It just won’t help.” Then her face lit up with an idea. “Someone once told me that perhaps if you have a different key or a penknife that might help.”

Othman suggested using his room key.

The woman declined, but then said, “Well… I guess we could try.” He handed it to her, and she turned her back to him, crouching over the suitcase so he couldn’t see her copying his key into an apparatus hidden in the palm of her hand.

Then she used his key to delicately open her suitcase.

“It worked!” she announced, shocked.

“Yes, it worked,” he repeated after her.

She handed him back his key and thanked him once again for his kindness.

He walked into his room, unaware that Nina and her group of Mossad agents would soon replicate the card and break into his hotel room.

#He walked into his room, unaware that Nina and her group of Mossad agents would soon replicate the card and break into his hotel room.

This break-in was a key step in the mission—because Ibrahim Othman was the head of the Nuclear Energy Commission of the Syrian government.

The IDF had been trailing this man for years, to no avail. With no proof that Syria was producing nuclear weapons, they nearly abandoned the mission.

But this was just step one in a three-part, all-female mission.

Marylin

The next morning, Othman came down to the hotel lobby to enjoy breakfast. The restaurant was completely packed—with Mossad agents—who had left only one seat open. It was next to a young woman who was on the phone.

“May I?” Othman asked, pulling the chair back.

She nodded yes while continuing to talk.

She sounded angry during the conversation and, after raising her voice a few times, she hung up the phone and slammed it on the table.

She looked at Othman and began grumbling about her boyfriend, who had flaked on her—again.

She explained that they were supposed to celebrate an anniversary, and she had flown to Vienna to enjoy an evening with him. He was supposed to arrive that day, but had canceled.

“I can’t believe he canceled again!” she said, exasperated.

Othman nodded politely and said, “He has no idea what he’s missing.”

“What’s your name?” she asked him. He told her—but certainly didn’t mention his role in nuclear energy.

She introduced herself as Marylin, and they began light conversation.

Then Marylin circled back to her boyfriend.

“I tried so hard to make this evening special. I even secured seats at Silvio Nickol. It's the best restaurant in all of Vienna!”

“Yes, I know,” he agreed.

Suddenly Marylin had an idea. “Do you have plans tonight?” she asked him.

He was surprised, but she continued. “I really don’t want to cancel my reservation. Maybe… would you join me?”

Othman found his mouth forming the word, “Sure.” Then asked, “But what if your boyfriend comes?”

“Oh, he won’t—and he doesn’t deserve me anyway…”

Later that night, they met up in the hotel lobby and walked out together, hailing a cab.

As they left for the restaurant, a team of Mossad warriors—men and women—took their positions.

Two females and a male sat in chairs near the elevator. If he changed his mind or returned early, they’d be there to stall him. Another male sat in a parked car with headphones outside the hotel.

Other team members were at the restaurant, ready to give the code word once the two had arrived. Of course, the other tables at the restaurant were filled with agents ready to protect Marylin if anything went wrong.

All was set for Stage 3.

Kira

Eyal and Kira were sent to Othman’s hotel room on the fourth floor.

They began to search the room. They immediately found personal documents and his cell phone. While the cellphone was protected with a password, Kira hacked it within seconds and began searching for pertinent information.

There were messages and documents—but right there, in front of her face, were pictures of a huge building and a nuclear reactor in the advanced stages of construction. Different men were photographed. The phone had approximately 35 pertinent photos.

Kira copied the photos from the cell phone, and all paper documents were placed back exactly where they had been found.

On cue, Marylin and Othman arrived back at the hotel lobby. Marylin thanked him for dinner and the two parted ways.

Mission complete.

Immediately, the evidence was brought to the IDF Chief of Staff. They placed it in front of him in a brown envelope and stated, “This is a plutogenic reactor. There are no more question marks.”

These three heroic women gave Israel and the US the information they needed to find the Syrian reactor and destroy it.

But there was one more part to the mission.

General Muhamed Soleiman was the head of the Syrian nuclear project. He was planning to begin work on a new nuclear facility after the destruction of the last one. But before doing so, he took a few days off at his beachfront property.

While sitting outside with comrades, overlooking the beach and eating a decadent dinner, they didn’t notice two shadows in the ocean—sharpshooters who had dived a long way from their boat. They emerged from the water and simultaneously aimed for Soleiman’s head.

Soleiman collapsed and the sharpshooters dove back into the ocean toward their boat.

The Syrian media officially reported that Soleiman had died of a heart attack.

The female agents of the Mossad risked everything for their country. Their lives are shrouded in mystery; their friends and relatives have no idea that they are secret agents.

They are part of a long line of Jewish women throughout history who have saved the Jewish People. From the Matriarchs and Miriam to Yocheved, from Queen Esther of Purim to Yehudit of Hanukkah, Jewish women have repeatedly risen to save the day.

With thanks to The Mossad Amazons—The Amazing Women of the Israeli Secret Service

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