Do not look away from the rising fires of Jew hatred

Flames flickering against a backdrop of stained-glass windows. Ash and devastation afterwards. I make a point of avoiding comparisons with 1930s Germany, as they are frequently overused and often unfounded, but it’s impossible to ignore the echoes here. Four burned-out ambulances – with miraculously no human injuries – is no Kristallnacht. But where do we think the suspects got their inspiration?

The optics of last week’s attack in Golders Green were well thought out. It was supposed to chill the blood of British Jews – and it has. But so should the entire nation be on edge, unsettled by this violent, physical show of hate.

Hatzola is a volunteer-led ambulance service, a Jewish charity that works alongside the NHS and other emergency services, helping anyone in need in their local areas. Its very purpose is the preservation of life. What kind of person can find any kind of justification for torching vehicles that can save lives? An anti-Semite, that’s who. The ugliness of Jew hatred knows no bounds. This disease is now endemic in the UK.

It has been just six months since the murderous Heaton Park synagogue attack in Manchester. So this is life now for the Jewish community of Britain: violence and destruction at regular intervals, increasingly heightened security around Jewish buildings and areas, and a constant feeling of unease.

Can we all agree this is madness? How can it be that, as a child here, it almost never crossed my mind not to be openly and fearlessly Jewish, and yet I now wait in trepidation for the day one of my young children returns home from school or an outing, asking me to explain Jew hatred?

In just the past few weeks, a branch of Gail’s bakery in Archway was vandalised because it was founded by an Israeli Jew (who is no longer involved in the business), and then the incident was belittled in the Guardian. A report into campus anti-Semitism revealed that one in five students would refuse to live with a Jewish peer. An inquiry had to be launched into anti-Semitism in schools. Meanwhile, down in Margate, an art exhibition titled ‘Drawings Against Genocide’ depicts Israelis and Israel Defence Forces soldiers as demons, murderers and baby-eaters. Artist Matthew Collings claims the work is not anti-Semitic, merely ‘anti-Zionist’. Thank goodness he cleared that up!

This is what we’re up against. Anti-Semitism has had a rebrand and, honestly, activists have done a fantastic PR job. Say whatever you like about the Jews and carry out as many petty acts of anti-Semitism as you please – as long as you take care to use today’s euphemisms of ‘anti-Zionism’ or ‘Israel criticism’, you’ll get away with it.

Despite all of this, I still believe that the vast majority of Britons are not anti-Semites, and that growing numbers are sickened by what they see. Unfortunately, too many of our non-Jewish neighbours are looking away when they should be staring into the flames, as we are forced to do.

The Jewish community does not have the privilege of looking away. While I can shield myself from terrifying video footage of anti-Semitic murder and destruction, I cannot avoid reckoning with the daily reality of life for Jews in Britain today.

This week, Jews celebrate the festival of Passover, when we recall how Moses led us to freedom from slavery in Egypt. It is one of our most important festivals. It celebrates the privilege of not just freedom itself, but also the ability to live freely as Jews. It is a message that has always resonated strongly with me. But this year I find myself asking: when does living with unease become living in fear? In the past, I always believed myself to be truly free, as a person, as a Jew. Today, I’m not so sure.