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Curious Showell visits a Hasidic village in Upstate New York described as having about 44,000 residents who primarily speak Yiddish and average seven kids per family. Showell claims the community relies heavily on state assistance and welfare programs such as Medicare, SNAP, housing assistance, and tax credits because of the large families. When asked how many kids people have here, Showell is told “Seventeen, eighteen,” and that they are “proud to do what the Torah says, that you need be multiple and fruitful.” He asks how they can afford many children, and the response is that wealthy community members give charity and the community is based on this. Showell questions whether people are on welfare. One person references taxes and property payments, saying, “The Jewish people, Justin Kirsch, Joel, their taxes covers everything that we take back. They pay a lot of property …” The interviewee refuses to comment about welfare use, and when pressed further about someone being on welfare, declines to answer. In terms of employment, individuals describe themselves as having jobs in sales and home care, with one mentioning selling chocolate. There is uncertainty about who uses welfare: Showell notes that “Most people on Medicaid, SNAP, EBT” while the interviewee claims not to know “for other people” but says “I’m not gonna tell about myself.” When asked about EBT usage, one person initially states “100%” would use EBT for groceries, then corrects to “35%,” indicating a lack of consensus. Showell also asks what most men do for work; the response includes “I have a job” and “I’m in sales,” with the product being food, specifically chocolate. Showell and the interviewee visit a synagogue where many are praying, with a note that the schedule is “09:00 sharp.” The dialogue touches on welfare use within the community, with one line indicating that “BT percent, like all of the communities, you have eight kids, you can also get benefits,” followed by a statement that “These are all teenagers” and the age of Showell’s interviewer as 21. In closing, Showell characterizes the situation as an example of a theocratic ethnic enclave, suggesting that Curious Joel is an example of only Jews living there and that many are tapping into welfare benefits.

In this video, everyday Israelis in Jerusalem share their thoughts on living in Israel. Some express their love for the country and feel safe despite misconceptions. Others discuss the threat they perceive and the need to retaliate when harmed. One person mentions an organization against Jews marrying Arabs, believing in the importance of preserving Jewish identity. Some express strong opinions about Arabs, advocating for their removal or even violence. However, there are also mentions of Jewish civilians who support Arabs. Overall, the video captures a range of perspectives on the Israeli-Palestinian situation, highlighting differing views on coexistence and conflict resolution.

Speaker 0, Curious Showell, describes a village of 44,000 Hasidic Jews in Upstate New York who primarily speak Yiddish, have an average of seven kids per family, and rely heavily on state assistance and welfare programs such as Medicare, SNAP, housing assistance, and tax credits tied to large families. The question is posed: How many kids do most people have out here? Speaker 1 responds that families have seventeen, eighteen children, and attributes this to being proud to do what the Torah says, that one must be multiple and fruitful. The discussion continues: how do people afford to have ten kids? Speaker 1 says the community is based on this, and when asked if wealthy members give charity, Speaker 1 says yes, mostly, and adds, “I don't talk to suspicious person.” Curious Showell presses: “How am I suspicious? Do you study Torah? Do you work for Hamas?” Speaker 1 replies: “Nothing. How do you make money?” When asked what he does for work, Speaker 1 says his wife, and then says, “I'm doing home care. Brokerage and construction.” On the question of Medicaid, SNAP, and EBT for most people, Speaker 1 responds uncertainly: “I don't know. I don't know. I can't speak for other people. What about you? I'm not gonna tell about myself.” Showell notes the welfare-use curiosity again, asking if the Jewry here are on welfare. Speaker 1 states, “No. The Jewish people, Justin Kirsch, Joel, their taxes covers everything that we take back. They pay a lot of property tax.” When asked if he knows anyone on welfare, he refuses to comment. Showell pushes, “Come on.” Speaker 1 again declines, asking, “What do you guys do for work here? You guys have like businesses, work a job, study Torah?” Speaker 1 answers that he has a job and is in sales, selling food, specifically chocolate. Showell questions the prevalence of EBT use: “What food do you sell? Chocolate.” He quips that he feels “bamboozled.” He asks again whether men take EBT and what percentage use it for groceries here. Speaker 1 asserts, “100%.” When pressed for a percentage, Speaker 1 hedges, and the conversation turns toward observing a synagogue, where many people are praying at 09:00 sharp, not at work. A final question asks what most men do for work in the community. The exchange continues in a floor of confusion: “What do you mean?” and “Do people here survive off of welfare?” Speaker 1 answers, “It is a 100%. Like all of the communities, you have eight kids, can also get benefits.” The time stamp notes a moment of age inquiry—most people seen are teenagers, with one 21-year-old stating his age. The dialogue concludes with a broader insinuation: concerns about Sharia law and a theocratic ethnic enclave, framing Curious Joel as an example of Jews living there and many tapping into welfare benefits.

The video follows Tyler Oliveira, an independent journalist, visiting Kiriyos Joel (Curious Joel), a Hasidic Jewish traditional community in upstate New York described as a large, growing, tightly knit enclave dominated by Hasidic Jews who largely speak Yiddish. The dialogue paints a picture of a community with unusually large families, strict modesty and gender roles, private religious education, and a mix of work patterns that rely on both self-employment within the community and outside labor. Key facts and claims as presented: - Demographics and family size: The community is described as a village of about 40,000 Hasidic Jews in upstate New York, with families averaging seven children. When discussing typical family size, several participants mention numbers like seventeen to eighteen children, though others give more conservative figures. One interviewee says “Ten, twelve, fourteen, fifteen” is common in the larger families, with a repeated emphasis on seven to ten as a norm in some households. - Economic profile and poverty: The town is described as one of the poorest towns in America, with around 40% living beneath the federal poverty line. The transcript notes reliance on public assistance, Medicaid, housing vouchers, food stamps (EBT/SNAP), and cash aid to support large families. - Employment and Torah study: A recurring theme is that many men spend significant time studying the Torah full-time, with three hours of daily prayer/study mentioned by some interviewees. Yet other participants indicate that men work in industries like construction, driving or bus services, or run private businesses. Women are described as working in some cases (e.g., teaching, health care, retail, childcare) and in other cases primarily managing households, especially when children are very young. Some individuals report that women work after children are older or part-time in addition to domestic duties. - Education and institutions: The community uses private religious schools (Torah study is emphasized), with most schools described as privately run. A significant portion of the schooling and social life centers on maintaining the community’s religious practices and modest dress codes. The synagogues, private kosher markets, and a complex network of private buses and community services are prominent features. - Welfare and tax considerations: The dialogue repeatedly questions how families can afford many children on limited incomes, noting welfare programs (Medicaid, SNAP/EBT, housing assistance) that help, particularly for large families. Some participants acknowledge that welfare usage exists (including potential tax credits and other subsidies tied to children), while others push back against the idea that welfare dominates, arguing instead that benevolence within the community and private charity play major roles. There is discussion about how much welfare benefits are worth relative to the costs of raising many children, including taxes and tuition. - Community economics and charity: A common claim is that wealthier members of the community fund many services and subsidize others through charitable giving. The existence of kosher supermarkets run with the help of Mexican labor is described, along with private safety services, volunteer EMS, and community-owned buses and infrastructure. The interviewee notes that two groceries, Maitiv, offer substantial discounts, and that the community supports one another to afford large families. - Labor dynamics and assimilation: Several interviews contrast Hasidic work patterns with non-Jewish labor participation nearby (e.g., Hispanics in construction, retail, and labor). There is a sense that many Jewish residents own or run businesses, while a notable portion of practical labor appears performed by immigrant workers. A discussion arises about whether non-members can move into the community, with responses suggesting it is possible but may be uncomfortable for some residents, given the desire to preserve religious life. - Zionism and Israel: A notable viewpoint expressed by some community members is opposition to the state of Israel before the Messiah, with Zionism described as not Judaism and the state as secular. This stance frames a broader tension between religious life in Kiriyos Joel and external political narratives. - Public interactions and challenges: The video captures tensions around filming, interviews, and the community’s encounter with outside observers, including skepticism about welfare claims and how the community is portrayed. Observations highlighted by the video’s framing: - The community presents itself as a self-reinforcing, tightly knit unit with private institutions, mutual aid, and communal oversight aimed at preserving religious life. - The economic reality described mixes private enterprise, charitable support, and reliance on public programs, particularly given large family sizes. - The overall portrait emphasizes a life integrated around Torah study, prayer, family, education, and a network of community-run services, with welfare and tax considerations continuing to be debated among residents and visitors.

The wire around New York City is a symbolic boundary for the Jewish community, allowing them to extend their private space into the public. It helps with tasks like using cell phones or going to the park on Saturdays when carrying items outside is restricted. The wire is over 15 feet tall and costs $150,000 a year to maintain, funded by Orthodox Synagogues. It stretches from 126th Street to Battery Park along the East River, almost invisible to the eye. It's a unique tradition that many may not have noticed before.

A Jew goes undercover at a free Palestine rally to understand their perspective. Some attendees blame Jews for the problem and want them to go to hell. The rally calls for a free Palestine, but the Jew wonders where the Jews would go. There is a discussion about the treatment of LGBTQ+ individuals in Gaza. The Jew questions why there is a basis for Israel to exist as a homeland when other groups don't have one. The Jew's family is from Afghanistan, a predominantly Muslim country, but they acknowledge they can't claim Israel.

A new Yiddish/Jewish community is emerging, offering a slower pace of life and connection to nature. Families are seeking more meaning, a sense of community, and a connection to their inner selves, which is difficult to achieve in major cities. The development aims to build 358 homes, with plans to expand, fostering a vibrant community rooted in Torah. The first 20 families are already in place, with 60 more expected soon. Residents are drawn to the opportunity to be trailblazers and connect with others who share their vision. The location offers access to nature, hiking, fishing, and a lush environment. The community emphasizes shared experiences, aspirations, and a desire to build families together. It's an opportunity for those seeking a pioneering life, supported by a vision that extends beyond just selling houses.

The transcript centers on the building known as 770 Eastern Parkway in Crown Heights, Brooklyn, the global headquarters of the Chabad Lubavitch Hasidic movement. It states that plans for its continued administration and expansion have sparked heated community discussions on design, finances, and preserving its historical and spiritual essence, with a claim that “money shekels” affect decisions and “Jews become uncontrollable.” A key topic is “tunnel items” found beneath the shul, described as “for young children, like this child's high chair, diapers, a baby stroller, and soiled children's mattresses.” The narrator questions whether something horrifying was discovered that needed immediate remedy, then says they won’t speculate in-depth but will stick to the official explanation so far. The official narrative asserts that a new guard generation of Chabad Lubavitchers weren’t taking no for an answer when their shul demands were sidelined by the old guard Lubavitchers. The old establishment faction has a “direct lineage and memory of the now dead Rabbi and Moshek like Menachem Mendel Schneerson.” The story is that the tunnels beneath 770 raised concerns about structural stability after an engineering inspection, triggering chaos when attempts to seal the tunnels caused internal resistance, vandalism, and police involvement temporarily closing the facility. Cement pumping trucks were called in to fill in the tunnels as members of the young guard were pulled out of the tunnels with police assistance. Hygienically filthy tunnel rats jeered at the police. The scene is described as “a good bath was in order for the shlomos,” with a claim that personal hygiene is not a Chabad Lubavitch virtue, and that the smell down there “must have been gut wrenching,” with filthy mattresses and open toilet pans implying those down there couldn’t use the shul bathrooms. The transcript asks who would stand out being shepherded through the facility, answering, “Underage children would stand out, that's who.” It then shifts to a broader, provocative allegation: “what is it with Jews and their obsession with child sex and shtetl filth?” It alleges a rabbi is running the world’s biggest porn site, Pornhub, and claims they also run “filthy destructive Hollywood,” which “also needs to be filled with cement.” The rhetoric accuses Jews as a group across millennia, stating there have been “1,030 recorded expulsions since December and the present,” and asserts a list of every expulsion, describing it as a pattern of expulsions roughly every two and a half years for over three thousand years. It concludes with the insinuation that the tunnel discovery might have prevented it from becoming “1,031 times” and ends with “If you know what we mean, we're just saying.”

"the film that won won at the twenty twenty five Academy Awards for best documentary feature." "If you're in The United States, you can't watch it. You literally can't. It's not on any streamers. You can't pay $25 on it for it on Amazon Prime." "Like, it didn't get distribution. Nobody bought it. And I unfortunately think I know why." "So it's called no other land, and it follows people in the Israeli occupied West Bank." "And you can't you literally can't watch it, and it won the Academy Award." "But Netflix probably paid the Poop Cruise guys, like, $5,000,000. It's just fucking insane."

The speaker argues that American Jews are wrestling with a category they inherited from our European ancestors about 250 years ago. As Jews moved into modern nation-states and pursued secular jobs and secular education, they reimagined Judaism to fit in. Judaism was transformed into something like a Protestant-style religion: a framework that worked well for a long period, enabling Jews to participate in broader society. The speaker emphasizes that Jews are not merely a religion, nor are we a race or ethnicity. Instead, Jews are a nation, civilization, tribe, peoplehood, and above all, a family. Therefore, a young person in America who thinks Judaism is simply a Protestant religion risks viewing the 7,000,000 Jews in Israel as merely co-religionists. If that is the lens, the natural question becomes: what do you owe to them? It would be like telling a mainline, very progressive Protestant in Berkeley, California that they must care about a Pentecostal in Brazil. In that framing, it doesn’t make sense, because it’s a category error. The speaker clarifies that the people in Israel are not merely co-religionists; they are siblings. The danger lies in thinking of Israel's Jewish population primarily through the lens of shared religious practice. When that happens, there is a risk of sliding into anti-Zionism, because the fundamental, personal connection to Israel—as siblings within a broader Jewish family—gets diminished or lost if Israel is reduced to a subset of co-religionists who share a particular religious outlook or social-justice framework. Key contrasts highlighted include the historical adaptation that treated Judaism as a Protestant-style religion to fit into secular, modern-state life, versus the present understanding that Jewish identity encompasses nationhood, civilization, and family ties. The speaker suggests that recognizing Israel as part of a family, not just a co-religionist community, is essential to maintaining connections that are not solely defined by theological agreement or social-justice alignment but by a broader shared Jewish peoplehood.

Secret tunnels were discovered underneath the Harmonet synagogue in New York City, leading to a police response and arrests. The reasons for the tunnels kept changing, from avoiding COVID restrictions to claiming it was youngsters who built them without supervision. A survivor of child sexual abuse shared their story, revealing that leaders in the community were aware of the abuse but did nothing. The video explores the tunnels and speaks to members of the Chabad Lubavitch community. The synagogue denies any wrongdoing and attributes the tunnels to unauthorized expansion. The video raises questions about lawlessness, human trafficking, and satanic rituals happening in the underground tunnels of New York City.

This transcript centers on an incident at a historic Jewish synagogue in Brooklyn where a tunnel was allegedly being used to illegally expand a church. After cement trucks arrived to fill the hole, a riot broke out between the Jewish community and the NYPD, prompting speculation of a deeper plot. The speaker says they went to investigate to learn more. Speaker 1 describes the scene and participants: “Hey, is there any way we can go inside? No. Nothing is lasting right now. There’s a bunch of guys, Chabad, which we would call like extreme rights. They’re mostly Israelis.” They claim the group wanted to start the expansion of “seven seventy.” There were references to “tunnels, Jews, how are you? Home human trafficking,” suggesting rumors surrounding the discovery of dirt that “wasn’t new,” and a desire to access the space through an alternate route. The speaker says, “I wanted to get in. I wanted to back way in.” Regarding the operation, the speaker notes that “Let’s do a main room. It’s a big Everything there already exists.” They imply the group planned to go “behind the back of the management because they were like, okay. They can't figure this shit out. Let's let's do it ourselves.” They claim the discovery occurred “a few weeks ago,” and that “the management found out about it.” The next day a cement truck arrived “around the corner, and they were gonna fill it up with cement.” The speaker attributes actions to the Chabad group, stating: “This group of of Chabad people, first of all, they busted the pipes over there, and then, they came in here from the inside, and they started breaking the wall. Slash amateur.” They conclude with a negation about human activity, saying, “Corners, there’s no human traffic going on. Sure.”

We used to live together peacefully, babysitting each other's children. However, the Zionist movement has taken our religion and used it to occupy and silence others. Speaking up against them is often labeled as anti-Semitic. As religious communities, we oppose this movement by not accepting it. We do not participate in the army or vote, and we distance ourselves from the state.

In a field report from the Holy Land, Tucker Carlson and his team explore the lived experience of Christians in a region where religion, politics, and funding intertwine. The segment frames Christendom’s presence as both historical and fragile, shaped by borders, custodianship, and shifting demographics. - The setting and question: Carlson pulses between Nazareth and Jerusalem-adjacent areas, noting that the Holy Land lies within Jordan—a predominantly Muslim monarchy that funds much of the region’s religious and cultural life. The central question is how Christians are faring: thriving or suffering? The host asserts that in Israel, Christians are not thriving; their numbers are shrinking in absolute terms and as a share of the population, especially since the Gaza War and the rise of extremism. Clips circulating online purportedly show Christian clergy in Jerusalem spat upon by Jewish extremists, raising concerns about anti-Christian hostility that US funding seems to overlook or deny. - The Archbishop of Jerusalem (born in Nazareth) speaks frankly about decline and exposure to oppression: he says Christians in the Holy Land have been here for two thousand years, but today they are in a period of decline. Since 1948, many Christians fled or were expelled; the Christian population halved, with subsequent declines after 1967. He emphasizes Jerusalem as the spiritual capital of the Christian faith, but notes the thinning presence and the difficulties of sustaining communities, particularly in Nazareth and the Galilee, where emigration has increased in two recent decades. - Refugees and the Christian presence: The Archbishop notes that many Palestinian refugees from the 1948 creation of Israel were Christians, contradicting the stereotype that Palestinian refugees are predominantly Muslim. He gives an example of Beirut’s All Saints Anglican community, which is 90% Palestinian Christians from Galilee, illustrating long-standing Christian diaspora within the region. Bethlehem is highlighted as a site of economic and religious pressure due to the separation wall and movement restrictions; the Christian population in Bethlehem has fallen from about 100,000 to under 30,000. He attributes some of these declines to limited aid, both domestically and from Western churches, and to concerns that donations can end up in the wrong hands. - Aid and funding dynamics: The Archbishop argues that while Western churches provide some support through bodies like the American Friends of the Diocese of Jerusalem, a disproportionately large share of Western Christian aid flows to Jewish settlements rather than to Nazareth or Bethlehem. He contends that money from the West can be linked to settlement expansion and land confiscation in Christian areas, creating moral tension for Western Christians who fund the region. He cites Jordan’s King Abdullah as a donor who has funded repairs to sacred sites such as the Nativity and the Holy Sepulchre, illustrating a different model of custodianship and interfaith stewardship. - Custodianship and Jerusalem’s status quo: The Jordanian king is described as the custodian of holy sites in Jerusalem, including Al Aqsa and the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, a framework the Archbishop says maintains a shared space for Christianity, Judaism, and Islam. He argues that handing custodianship entirely to the Israeli government would produce exclusivity and degrade the three-faith balance that has historically preserved access to sacred sites. - Practical realities for worship and safety: The Archbishop details routine security constraints around the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, especially on Holy Saturday during Holy Fire, where Israeli police restrict attendance and limit pilgrims, sometimes to a fraction of typical numbers for “safety reasons.” He notes that similar restrictions affect other holy sites and events across Israel and neighboring areas, including Orthodox and Jewish observances. He references efforts to engage U.S. diplomats, like Ambassador Mike Huckabee, to address these access limits, though without consistent success. - Everyday threats and incidents: The Archbishop describes spitting at clergy as a recurring, if not constant, problem in Jerusalem, tied to fringe groups and to a broader climate of secular or religious animus. There is talk of vandalism and intimidation directed at Christian sites, with limited legal recourse because spitting and harassment are not consistently criminalized in the way the clergy and authorities would hope. - The West Bank and Jordan as a model: The Jordanian Christian interlocutor (Speaker 3) frames Jordan as a regional model for coexistence, arguing that Christians in Jordan feel integrated with Muslims and receive constitutional protection and equal rights. He highlights three pillars of Jordan’s Christian flourishing: constitutional equality, political and social stability, and Hashemite leadership that prioritizes interfaith dialogue, meritocracy, and mercy. He notes Christian representation across government and business, suggesting that, despite being a minority (roughly 3%), Christians are disproportionately represented in leadership roles, which he sees as evidence of a functioning model for minority resilience. - Refugees as a regional test: The Jordanian interlocutor emphasizes Jordan’s long history of hosting refugees from Jerusalem, Gaza, Syria, and Iraq, framing Jordan as a nation built on refugee experience and humanitarian responsibility. He stresses that stability in Jordan—economic, political, and social—depends on leadership, constitutional rights, and the willingness of the international community to sustain support, particularly given donor fatigue and shifting attention from the US and other partners. - A plea to Western Christians: The interview closes with a call for American Christians to engage directly with ancient Christian communities in the Holy Land, to listen to their experiences, and to support stability and coexistence without reducing faith to political slogans or demonizing one group. The Archbishop concludes with a hopeful vision: Jerusalem should belong to all people, a sacred center for Christians, Jews, and Muslims alike. In sum, the conversation juxtaposes narratives of Christian decline and resilience, heavily weighted by political context, funding flows, and interfaith custodianship. It presents Jordan as a contrasting, stabilizing model for minority Christian life in the Middle East while insisting that Western Christian communities rethink their engagement and support for Christian communities in the Holy Land.

The transcript centers on a confrontation over property and displacement in East Jerusalem, set against a broader political aim to reshape the city's demographic and symbolic landscape. The dialogue opens with a speaker declaring an ongoing project of seizure and transformation: “We take house after house. All this area will be a Jewish neighborhood. We are not finished the job. We are we are going to the next neighborhood. And after that, we will go more our dream that all East Jerusalem will be like West Jerusalem, Jewish capital of Israel.” The stated objective is both incremental and sweeping, conveying a plan to extend Jewish control house by house until East Jerusalem mirrors West Jerusalem and solidifies its status as the Jewish capital of Israel. Into this context, Speaker 1 interjects with a direct challenge to Jacob: “Jacob, you know this is not your house.” The implication is that the speaker believes the house in question belongs to someone else or is part of a broader program of dispossession. The ensuing exchange reveals the human stakes and the distress involved. Speaker 2 responds with a mix of resignation and frustration: “Yes. But if I go, you don't go back. So what's the problem? Why are you yelling at me? I didn't do this.” He repeats, “I didn't do this,” signaling a denial of responsibility for the act or outcome being carried out. The tension escalates as Speaker 2 intensifies the grievance, insisting, “it's easy to yell at me, but I didn't do this.” The core accusation emerges in a blunt, accusatory line: “You are stealing my house.” The response to this accusation is pragmatic and fatalistic: “And if I don't steal it, someone else is gonna steal it.” This exchange underscores a perceived inevitability or desperation in the face of dispossession, highlighting the moral weight of property seizure within the contested space. The dialogue concludes with a firm counter-statement from Speaker 1: “No. No one no one is allowed to steal it.” This line emphasizes a boundary or rule opposing the act, even as the preceding lines reveal the complexity and intensity of the conflict over who rightfully possesses the house and under what authority such possession occurs. Overall, the transcript portrays a clash between a broader political project to expand Jewish housing and sovereignty in East Jerusalem and the personal, accusatory, and emotional dimensions of those who feel their homes are being taken. The speakers articulate a vision of a city transformed into the Jewish capital, while individuals confront accusations, denial, and the pressure of displacement.

The speaker explores the accelerating settlement process in the West Bank and Gaza following the October 7th attack. Jewish settlers, some religious nationalists, believe it's their divine right to build a greater Israel and displace Palestinians. They view territory as a measure of victory in an ongoing war. The film crew attends a jamboree promoting Jewish outposts in Gaza, supported by political figures like Itamar Ben Govere and Daniela Weiss, who envisions Jewish settlements throughout Gaza and encourages the displacement of its Arab population. Counter-protesters advocate for peace and coexistence. The speaker visits Eviatar, a settlement founded as an illegal outpost, and speaks with residents who believe the land belongs to the Jews according to the Torah. Daniela Weiss, a leader in the settler movement, dismisses international law and accusations of extremism, asserting her influence over the younger generation and government. The speaker witnesses the impact on Palestinians, including restricted movement, settler violence, and military presence. A Texan settler, Ari, expresses a belief in Israel's divine right to the land and views Palestinians as a genocidal "death cult." Daniela defends settler actions, denying violence and prioritizing the Jewish people.