Growing up in London, I personally never experienced antisemitism. I did live in the Jewish bubble, and don’t look obviously Jewish, but even so, I don’t recall many antisemitic incidents, and Jews were very much integrated into British society. My Christian neighbors knew I was Jewish, but it didn’t bother them, and I played with their children regularly.
Of course, I am not naive about anti-Jewish sentiment. From a young age, I was taught about the Holocaust and other historic antisemitic events. Perhaps in London I was too young to notice implicit antisemitism, and I never attended university there, where it is noticeably more rampant.
When I moved to South Africa at 19 and attended the University of Cape Town, I became more conscious of hostile attitudes toward Jews and Israel. Every year, the main campus runs an “Israel Apartheid Week,” to demonstrate against Israel’s “apartheid policies.” The event is highly politicized and is often accompanied by inflammatory rhetoric and incitement.
Since I was on the medical campus, I was less exposed to the hostile campaign, but it definitely made me more cautious about sharing my identity. Still, my whole class knew that I was Jewish, I had Muslim and Christian friends, and if anyone objected to my religion, no one mentioned it. It certainly didn’t affect my college experience negatively.
I assumed antisemitism was an issue of the past, of 1930s Europe, and that society had advanced since then. I assumed the harrowing images of the Holocaust and the phrase “Never Again” would be enough to protect Jews from the “few” extremists. How wrong I was. It seems antisemitism had always been there; it was just latent, bubbling under the surface, waiting for the first opportune moment to emerge.
Now living in Israel, I recognize how fortunate we are to have a Jewish state protecting us. Even so, the global surge in antisemitism is deeply concerning. As I read the daily headlines, each more horrific than the last, I often find myself wondering how did this happen? More importantly, how is this being allowed to happen?
Forms of antisemitism
There are many theories surrounding this incredibly nuanced topic, the most obvious being that Jews are the scapegoats for society’s misfortunes, or that the world feels threatened by our status as the chosen people and our role as society’s moral compass.
I have my own interpretations regarding how narratives against Jews are formed and propagated. I believe there are two main forms of antisemitism:
1) Redemptive antisemitism. It’s a term first coined by historian Saul Friedlander to describe the core of Nazi ideology. The Nazis promised that by killing Jews, one would be redeemed. Throughout history, and in this war, we see how this ideology continues to fuel radical movements.
Often these groups are made up of far-right extremists driven by religious conviction. They genuinely believe their God has instructed them to annihilate Jews to achieve redemption through terrorism and martyrdom.
From a young age, children are taught to hate Jews – it is in their education, their curriculum, and their blood. Hamas’s charter explicitly states this as its mission. These monsters commit horrific crimes against humanity and glorify terrorism, legitimizing their actions in the name of religion.
The irony never ceases to amaze me – cloaking antisemitism in religious rhetoric or under the guise of “resistance” is baffling and deeply disturbing. What kind of God would demand such barbarism?
Contrary to popular belief, this war is primarily about religion, not territory – kill the Jews and you will be redeemed. In this way, as Jews, there is no escaping our fate. While there are pure psychopaths who have no ideological motive, most terrorists targeting Jews are driven by this rationale.
2) Antisemitism born out of ignorance. This group often consists of kind, good-hearted, and well-meaning individuals. These are self-proclaimed humanitarians and peace activists who give charity to starving children in Africa and who are involved in peace-building efforts and human rights organizations.
Pope Francis, for example, was known for his charity and outreach, yet he, too, fell prey to the anti-Israel narratives, and strongly condemned Israel’s actions in Gaza.
These are good people, who are simply misinformed, or involuntarily brainwashed by manipulative propaganda tactics. After all, I, too, would be concerned if I repeatedly heard the word “genocide” from numerous sources I considered to be credible, and would develop hostile feelings toward the alleged perpetrators.
The UN, for example, is a mastermind at leveraging its position as a proponent of human rights, essentially casting Israel the victim as the aggressor. While Hamas murders, rapes, and kidnaps innocent civilians, Israel is vilified for defending itself.
While our hostages starve in tunnels, the world remains blind to their suffering, intent on feeding the very terrorists who hold them captive.
How does this happen? The hypocrisy and selective morality are staggering. Apparently, human rights only matter if you aren’t Jewish.
Others remain close-minded, clinging to the latest trendy catchphrases, instead of seeking facts. These people are much harder to reason with. It doesn’t matter how knowledgeable or open-minded you are; they are unwilling to listen.
What is striking in both cases is that many people genuinely believe they are doing the right thing, and are striving to make the world a better place.
The consequences of antisemitism
What is clear, though, is that whichever group the antisemites fall into, Israel and Jews are consistently held to a higher standard. These double standards somehow only apply to Jews, and are rooted in centuries of ingrained anti-Jewish tropes.
The consequences are dire: If other countries are threatened, they are supported and encouraged to defend themselves with whatever means necessary. If their citizens are taken captive, the Western world will ensure that they are released – immediately. They would not be waiting X number of days. But because we are Jews, we don’t count.
While this insight is disheartening, understanding how and why these narratives are formed can help us retain both our moral clarity and our resolve. As long as we strive to do the right thing, who cares what everyone else says? More importantly, we have to do everything in our power to challenge and reshape the narrative.
True, there will always be those, like the first group, who will hate us regardless. But those in the second group, misled by ignorance but willing to listen, are not entirely beyond reach. This is exactly why we must continue speaking up. Of course, it isn’t easy to change people’s long-standing beliefs, but we are up to the task. After all, Jews don’t back down.
The writer is a copy editor at The Jerusalem Post. She hails from London and now resides in Jerusalem.