Sunday, November 01, 2026
 |
| Tuvia Tenenbom on Mount Gerizim during the Samaritan Passover sacrifice. Photo: Isi Tenenbom. |
Tuvia Tenenbom’s latest book, “Excuse
Me, Is This Yours?”, recounts the better part of a year he spent living
with the settlers of Judea and Samaria. Along the way he asks everyone, bigwigs
and not-so-bigwigs, one question: why hasn’t Israel annexed Judea and Samaria
in all the years since 1967?
No one gives him a straight answer. Not Yossi Dagan, Simcha Rothman, Bezalel
Smotrich, Itamar Ben Gvir, or Zvi Sukkot, the very people you would expect to
make it happen. They tell Tuvia he’s right, and then they make excuses. It’s
complicated. It has to be done a certain way, at the right time. They also add
what most settlers believe: the concept of annexation doesn’t apply because you
can’t annex what already belongs to you. Rather, the goal is the application of
Israeli sovereignty in Judea and Samaria. We need to say clearly, this is ours.
And this is not something we have done. This cradle of biblical history is
still under military rule. The world still insists it’s not ours, and we
haven’t responded by asserting our right to our indigenous territories.
I say “we” because I have lived in Judea since 1984. I have never understood
why no declaration of sovereignty has been issued, even under the most
right-wing, most pro-settler government in Israel’s short history.
So I read Tenenbom’s book hoping for answers, and what I found instead was
the man who asked the questions. Like its predecessors, it offers a glimpse
into its author, and I am intrigued. Who is Tuvia Tenenbom, who makes himself
at home among people others might fear? And what do we call his particular
brand of man-on-the-street investigative journalism?
I like his technique, actually. He asks people whatever comes into his head,
in his quirky English. As I read him, I begin to think I know what he thinks.
Then I decide I don’t understand him at all.
What does Tuvia Tenenbom believe? Is he tolerant or intolerant? If you were
in his book, could you expect him to portray you kindly? I don’t know. Go ask
the woman who failed to produce so much as a glass of tap water during his
visit (I’m looking at you, Hadassah Froman), or the guy who danced on the table
in his dirty shoes, though dirty-shoes guy probably wouldn’t care.
Having crossed paths with the man, one thing is certain: if he takes a
liking to you, he is warm and gracious. I met Tuvia at the final event of the Jewish
Media Summit. During a Q&A, an obnoxious, whiny British Jewish
newspaper editor demanded to know why Israel doesn’t fund his publication.
Tuvia had been sitting quietly at our table until then, but that set him off,
and he let loose with an absolute TORRENT of Yiddish curses. They simply rolled
off his tongue.
Well, at least I think they were curses. I don’t know Yiddish, but I’m
pretty sure I got the gist of it. Something along the lines of “No one wants to
pay for your drekkishe newspaper,” only far, far spicier. I tried (not very
hard) to suppress a guffaw.
 |
Tuvia Tenenbom and Varda Epstein at the Jewish Media Summit, 2022. |
Tuvia glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, with the glint of a bad
boy acting up, and you could see he felt encouraged by my finding him funny.
Then, apparently strictly for my benefit, he let fly another string of curses,
no doubt very choice ones.
After the event we spoke briefly, and to my surprise the author was humble;
kind and understanding when I couldn’t shake hands; and happy to talk craft
with a fellow writer. (I told him I like when he writes about food.)
That contrast between the man who suffers no fools and the man with courtly
European manners makes Tuvia Tenenbom even more of an enigma to me. If he likes
you, you may get the gentleman. But if he doesn’t like you because you’re
acting like an idiot, watch out, lest you become the equivalent of “Va Var Vard
Varda” in his next book.
Oh . . . and don’t tell Tuvia I’m a Litvak. He says we have no sense of
humor.
Varda Epstein: In “Excuse Me, Is This Yours?” we learn, I
think for the first time, that you did a stint in the IDF. We don’t know how
you ended up being in the army. Can you share how that transition came about?
Tuvia Tenenbom: In “Careful, Beauties Ahead!” which is about the Haredi world in Israel, I tell the story of how I got to leave the Haredi world. My first steps once I left the “black” yeshiva world were at Merkaz Harav yeshiva in Jerusalem, followed by a Hesder yeshiva in Ma’alot and then Yeshivat Hakotel in Jerusalem.
Varda Epstein: Reading “Careful, Beauties Ahead!” I felt
you were rediscovering your own people and writing about them with affection
and a new appreciation. Does that reflect your experience? Did working on the
book change your relationship with the family you grew up with?
Tuvia
Tenenbom: I always kept in touch with my family. I’m not the kind of person who
shuns people whose ideas about life are different from mine. That said, writing
the “Careful” book while living in Mea Shearim made me feel closer to
the people I left quite some years ago. I guess that inside of me I’m still
“Haredi,” at least from a social perspective. There will always be a part of me
that is “Haredi,” no matter what I believe in or don’t.
Varda Epstein: Your books have been translated into ten languages,
but you write in English. What makes English your language for writing? Is it
also the language you think in, or does that change depending on what—or
whom—you’re writing about?
Tuvia
Tenenbom: After my army service, I moved to the United States, where I spent
the next 15 years studying at various universities in New York. Part of my
studies was in the fields of mathematics and computer science, and part in
English literature and drama in general. And so I got used to writing in
English. As simple as that.
Varda Epstein: Some of the phrasing in your English-language books
makes me wonder about the influence of Hebrew, Yiddish, or German. Do those
languages shape your English prose? How do you and your editor decide what to
change and what to preserve as part of your voice?
Tuvia Tenenbom: It’s not the Hebrew or Yiddish that gets in the way of my English… It’s more the “Jewish” way of thinking, at least “my Jewish” way of thinking, that influences my writing—and this applies not only to English but also to my Hebrew.
 |
| With Minister Bezalel Smotrich. Photo: Isi Tenenbom. |
Varda Epstein: In “Excuse Me, Is This Yours?” you point out
that the Mei HaShiloach seems to be in practically every settler home you
visit. You are descended from its author, the Ishbitzer Rebbe, through his
grandson, the Radzyner Rebbe. We get the impression that you think these
settlers don’t really get Chasidus and are misinterpreting your ancestor’s
teachings. Have we read you correctly? What do they get wrong? And what do you
think the Ishbitzer himself would make of his popularity among this group?
Tuvia Tenenbom: The settlers, as I have come to know them in the eight months of living with them, might read, or study, the Mei HaShiloach properly, but they miss the whole “geshmak” of the Hasidic world. They are more like the “Litvaks,” meaning they lack the sense of humor that makes the Hasidic Yiddish speakers so lively, funny, friendly, and warm. Look at the food that the settlers eat: “Healthy” and often tasteless. More like the folks of Los Angeles than of any Hasidic group.
Tuvia Tenenbom on Mount Gerizim during the Samaritan Passover sacrifice. Photo: Isi Tenenbom.
Varda Epstein: There are moments in “Excuse Me, Is This Yours?” where your writing turns lyrical about the beauty of Judea and Samaria (Yehuda and Shomron). Does that beauty help you understand the people you meet and their willingness to sacrifice to keep their hold on the land? Or do you experience that beauty as you would in any other part of the world? Is there something special about Judea and Samaria that makes it distinct?
Tuvia Tenenbom: There is something special about the place. It’s hard to understand the Bible without being in what I call “Biblical Israel.” That’s where Judaism was born, and that’s a big part of what being Jewish means. Judaism and the land create a unity that no other religion does, at least none of the ones I know. The Bible, and the God of the Bible, are “obsessed” with the land. You can’t divorce one from the other. Beverly Hills might be beautiful, but the God of Israel is breathing down your neck only in Biblical Israel.
Tuvia Tenenbom. Photo: Isi Tenenbom.
Varda Epstein: You wrote a beautiful inscription
in this latest book, thanking your wife for following you into scary places
during a war. Presumably she follows you on all your journeys, taking
photographs of you and the people you meet. How did this trip compare with the
others, and what was the hardest part for each of you?
Tuvia Tenenbom: We were there during wartime, with missiles flying above our heads, some of them falling right near us. The people around us were running through the streets to find shelter, while we stood on our balcony looking at them. It was bizarre, if I can use this word. And while driving on roads I didn’t know, often enough, the GPS was jammed, and I had no clue where we were and in what direction I should drive. I just followed Palestinian cars, hoping that they knew where they were going.
 |
| Tuvia and Isi Tenenbom. Photo courtesy Isi Tenenbom. |
Tuvia Tenenbom: This is a tough question, because the answer is quite sad.
The current government, the most right-wing government Israel has ever had, and one in which settlers themselves hold positions of power, has refused to annex the land, or “apply sovereignty,” as they prefer to call it.
The reason? The Almighty Shekel. Money.
Originally, the settler movement was driven by people with a strong ideology, people like Moshe Levinger and Benny Katsover, for example. But those pioneers are either no longer with us or have grown old. They belong to a different generation.
Today, many settlers are either anti-Zionist, like some in Yitzhar, for example, or were never Zionists to begin with, like those in Beitar Illit and other Haredi communities.
Even the main settlement organization, Amana, is, at its core, a for-profit financial enterprise.
And here's the thing: as long as Israel does not annex the territory, owning a house there is much cheaper than in the rest of Israel. Add to that lower taxes and government funding that flows far more generously than in other parts of the country.
Settlements also receive financial support from various Jewish organizations abroad, precisely because they are settlements.
In short, all these financial benefits, all these “goodies,” would disappear the moment Israel annexed the land.
And the settlers, at least most of them, don't want that. The exception to this rule is the so-called Hilltop Youth; they are still ideological.
If you're wondering who told me all this, the answer is simple: The settlers themselves, including some of their leaders.
 |
| With Yossi Dagan, head of the Samaria Regional Council. Photo: Isi Tenenbom |
Varda Epstein: Mida
called you “the ultimate leftist and humanist who loves all people, is
everything the left pretends to be but is not.” Your books show us what you
question and reject. What do you believe, politically and religiously, and
which convictions have stayed with you over the years?
Tuvia Tenenbom: Before any book I write and any journey I take, I try to “forget” anything I know, or think I know, about the people and places I’m writing about and let the people themselves guide me into their souls. That’s the only way I know how to write a book. And it makes my journey into the people fascinating and exciting: a journey of discovery.
 |
| With Minister Itamar and Ayala Ben Gvir. Photo: Isi Tenenbom. |
Varda Epstein: You live in New York and Germany. I can understand
New York, but what attracts you to Germany? If I even hear a German accent, my
skin crawls. How do you live with the history of the place and its people in
relation to the Jewish people? What can you tell us about how it feels to be
Jewish in Germany today?
Tuvia Tenenbom: Years back, my wife-to-be, Isi, lived in Germany, and that’s how I got to live in Germany as well. And in response to your question: The history of Germany and the Jews is not a happy story, that’s for sure, but that is also the history of Jews and Europe, Jews and Christians, Jews and Muslims. London is no less antisemitic than Berlin; neither is Paris or New York. I met Americans who hate Jews more than the average German. We may not want to admit it, just like German Jews were blind to the hate around them before WWII, but reality has nothing to do with what we admit or deny.
Varda Epstein: Has anyone you met on your writing
journeys changed your mind about something you were sure of? And where are you
heading next? Which community will you write about?
Tuvia
Tenenbom: Almost always, I change my mind once I live with the people I write
about. I didn’t think Britain was antisemitic, but then I lived with them… I
hated Russians, but I ended up falling in love with them after living with
them. I thought America was the freest country on the planet but totally
changed my mind during the process of writing about them while travelling the
country for about a year. I have learned that I must embed myself with the
people I write about and leave my prejudices in the nearest garbage can. That’s
why it takes me months upon months of living with the people in order to write
about them. As for the next book: I have no idea. Usually my German editor and
publisher are the ones coming up with ideas for the upcoming book. It was not,
for example, my idea to write about the settlers or about the Haredim. I simply
agreed to take these assignments once they were offered to me.
***
For Elder’s take on “Excuse Me, Is This Yours?” see
his
review.
