Following the expulsion of Jews by Ferdinand and Isabella, large numbers of Spanish Jews settled in what are now Greece, Cyprus, the southern Balkans, and the western coast of Turkey. There they found communities of Greek-speaking Jews, known as Romaniote, who had lived in these territories since ancient times. Similar to what happened in North Africa, some of these communities assimilated into the Sephardi, Ladino-speaking traditions of the newcomers, while others maintained a separate identity. Like other Jews who left Europe in the early 20th century, some Romaniote settled in Manhattan’s Lower East Side, where they established the Kehila Kedosha Janina Synagogue (KKJ), which still holds weekly services and is the only Romaniote congregation in the Western Hemisphere.

Daniel Cody writes:

The Romaniote congregation, originally from Ioannina, Greece (hence, “Janina,” an alternative version of the Greek place-name), formed in 1906, though the synagogue itself was not fully constructed until 1927. . . . The Romaniote migrated to America following World War I for economic opportunity. Broome, Allen, and Orchard Streets, which occupy a northern portion of Lower East Side, were home to many immigrant families who left the Ottoman empire, including Romaniote. . . . Hundreds of families who currently attend, or previously attended, KKJ came from Ioannina, but many arrived from Rhodes, Thessaloniki, Istanbul, Izmir, and the former Yugoslavia.

KKJ is what is known as a “tenement” synagogue. . . . The building was at one point a tenement building, then converted into a Greek coffee shop, and finally a synagogue in 1927. The Romaniote community pooled together money to construct the synagogue, which is much narrower and space-conscious than other synagogues.

KKJ is the only non-Ashkenazi synagogue in the Lower East Side of Manhattan.

If there’s one lesson to be learned from the history of the Israel-Arab conflict, it’s never to be confident that an end is in sight. Ehud Yaari nevertheless—and with all due caution—points to some noteworthy developments:

The absolute primacy of “armed struggle” in Palestinian discourse has discouraged any serious attempt to discuss or plan for a future Palestinian state. Palestinian political literature is devoid of any substantial debate over what kind of a state they aspire to create. What would be its economic, foreign, and social policies?

One significant exception was a seminar held by Hamas in Gaza—under the auspices of the late Yahya Sinwar—prior to October 7, 2023. The main focus of what was described as a brainstorming session was the question of how to deal with the Jews in the land to be liberated. A broad consensus between the participants was reached that most Israeli Jews should be eradicated or expelled while those contributing to Israel’s success in high tech and other critical domains would be forced to serve the new Palestinian authorities.

Yet, the ongoing aftershocks from the ongoing war in Gaza are posing questions among Palestinians concerning the viability of armed struggle. So far this trend is reflected mainly in stormy exchanges on social-media platforms and internal controversies within Hamas. There is mounting criticism leveled at the late Mohammad Deif and Yahya Sinwar for embarking upon an uncoordinated offensive that is resulting in a “Second Nakba”—a repeat of the defeat and mass displacement caused by launching the war in 1948.

To be sure, “armed struggle” is still being preached daily to the Palestinian communities by Iran and Iranian proxies, and at least half the Palestinian public—according to various polls—believe it remains indispensable. But doubts are being heard. We may be reaching a point where the Palestinians will feel compelled to make a choice between the road which led to past failures and an attempt to chart a new route. It will certainly require time and is bound to cause fractures and divisions, perhaps even a violent split, among the Palestinians.