The famed Holocaust memoir, translated into Khmer, strikes an all-too-familiar theme for a people who felt the genocidal wrath of a despotic regime.
Christian, Jewish and Muslim clergy lead rally protesting Chinese persecution of Falun Gong and China's involvement in Sudan.
When Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad spoke at Columbia University the other day, he did not emerge with the "propaganda victory" that neocon pundit Bill Kristol assured us he would receive
A war is brewing. A minority in our midst is being actively persecuted. Society fears and loathes them. The government is using legislation to identify them and the military to hunt, contain and kill them. This is not Nazi Germany. This is America.
When visiting Berlin you can't miss the golden dome of the New Synagogue on Oranienburger Strasse. It towers over the city skyline and stands as a reminder of the rich history of Berlin Jewry. Crowned with the Star of David, the dome also reminds us of persecution and near destruction.
Imagine the shock Temple Knesset Israel members felt when they came to Shabbat services five weeks ago and found scrawled on their wall, "Jews die" and a swastika. The Los Feliz congregation is largely elderly; many are Holocaust survivors.
A shock of a different sort awaited them last Saturday: scores of black and Latino teenagers and community leaders convened at the shul for a "Day of Healing."
As the decades pass, why does the Holocaust retain, and even expand, its grip on the consciousness of the world and of its scholars, writers and filmmakers?