It may seem absurd for a people at war to worry about those living in London, but in Israel, when antisemitic attacks come, the authorities do not equivocate, says Benjamin Bell
Israel today is not an obvious choice of getaway. Yet invited on a solidarity mission with Magen David Adom, a Red Cross charity providing emergency services to all religions, the heartbreaking, heartwarming itinerary trumped apprehension for this London Jew.
It involved visiting the festival site of 360 murdered youngsters and what remains of brutalised and burnt kibbutzim, to audiences with hostage families, the First Lady, British Embassy and Mossad, and time among Arab communities and on volunteer farms to pick fruit unpicked by victims of 7 October.
These trips matter. We’re living in a world where the Holocaust is denied and the darkest day for Jews since then faces similar treatment. That cannot happen. We need witnesses to history, and not just Jewish ones. The multi-faith group that joined me on this trip committed to retelling what they see.
We also need common ground. Hence our impromptu fundraiser for an ambulance serving the people we visited in Rahat, home to many of the 2m Muslims living in Israel amid more than 400 proud mosques and with better rights than anywhere in the Arab world.
So is it a tour of hell or the trip of a lifetime? Somehow both. And somehow it was a haven from home at this difficult time for Jews. What resonates with me now is a question I was repeatedly asked by locals: ‘Are you ok in London?’
That question should be absurd to hear on the Gazan border with its backdrop of battle fire, when Israeli streets are lined with bomb shelters and we needed a concealed gun aboard our bus. People here face Hamas rockets daily – we saw them mid-air and at our feet – and yet they fear for Jews in London.
Is the query so absurd? I left a city where posters of Jewish hostages are being torn the day they go up. Where my local MP has been hounded from office for standing up to Jew hate. Where weekly marches chant genocidal slogans against our kind. Where a local kosher store was rushed by a knifeman and a falafel house vandalised. Where Israeli theatregoers have been bullied to the exit and fellow tourists attacked in the street. Where I don a stab vest to help guard my kids at Sunday school.
Tel Aviv’s Bring Them Home Now graffiti is not only unblemished but vaunted. Protests are common but peaceful. Universities are places of learning not intimidation. When antisemitic attacks come, it feels the authorities paid to protect you do not equivocate but have your back.
These realities beg the question of where a Jew feels safer right now. A lifelong Londoner shouldn’t struggle to answer when comparing his own city – home to his family for over a century – with a country at war. Even our children sense the tremors. My daughter’s school asked pupils to come as an inspiring literary figure for World Book Day. She chose Anne Frank.
The comparison is not to diminish the mortal tragedy unfolding in the region or the fate of innocent hostages held for nearly six months. It is to speak of a different fear. The danger is less immediate, more a creeping, sinister threat. Delegitimisation of Israel morphing into delegitimisation of Jews at large. It may not kill us, but plans for a quiet life in London might die. It is hard to name countries that remain safe for Jews, but that hasn’t stopped many in the community exploring alternatives.
Sadness is all around, but we must find opportunities for commonality in a divided world. In just 24 hours abroad, I saw Jews buy Stars of David from Muslims in Tel Aviv, Christians lead prayers for Israel and Arabs host lunch for us all. Closer to home, my synagogue welcomed Imams to break the Ramadan fast. Symbolic moments to remind us coexistence is not only desirable but possible.
Camaraderie, though, has its limits. We also need robust policing, education rooted in hope not hate, action from social media companies against the bile online, and a megaphone for religious leaders willing to call out racism in community ranks.
Are the Jews ok in London? We want to be, but ultimately it’s not up to us. It’s up to those hating Jews to stop and up to everyone else being vocal when they spot it.
Benjamin Bell is a London-based public policy and communications professional