The statistics do not lie. Antisemitic incidents in Britain are at an all-time recorded high. The annual report from the Community Security Trust released yesterday made for depressing reading, showing that in the forty years of collecting data, there has never been a larger total. In 2023, 4,103 incidents were recorded, a mixture of physical, verbal and online attacks. Well over half were in London, unsurprising perhaps since that is where British Jewish life is concentrated, with approximately four in five British Jews living in the capital.
How did the incidents rise so high and we sink so low? The answer is that contemporary antisemitism comes from the far-right, the radical left and extreme Islamism. Much of it is fixated on Israel, particularly since the terrorist atrocities on 7th October and Israel’s ongoing military response in Gaza. But it also plays on Jewish tropes of money and influence, and appalling stereotypes. It has infected different institutions and areas of public life from the Labour party (where it persists despite the gallant efforts of the leadership) and trade unions to universities and media organisations.
Behind the dry statistics lie human stories. One pupil at my daughter’s Jewish secondary school was beaten up on their way home. My son’s Jewish primary school has a security rota for parents to volunteer to protect the school at drop off and pick up time. This is not how the hallmark of a civilised country or how we would wish 2020s Britain to be.
The fear and anxiety in the Jewish community is palpable. Where other minority rights are protected and their causes embraced, Jews are too often seen as the “odd one out”. Or as David Baddiel puts it, Jews don’t count. Some may look at the community and see a well-integrated and very successful group contributing across all areas of public life, and ask how they can be victims. But the two are not mutually exclusive.
Like the rest of the community, I am proudly British and Jewish
The former Chief Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, reflecting on assimilation rates, asked the Jewish community in the 1990s, “will we have Jewish grandchildren?” These days, Jews in London are asking hard questions about the future of Jewish life in this country. Now three decades on, the questions has morphed to become “will our Jewish grandchildren be British?”, or will they have moved away from these shores?
Like the rest of the community, I am proudly British and Jewish. Every week in synagogue, we pray for King and Country. We know that overall London and Britain are still wonderful places for Jewish life, but the situation feels fragile and precarious.
Whilst there may be no such thing as zero antisemitism, we must adopt a zero-tolerance attitude to antisemitism. That means continued support from the government and the police, and investment to protect Jewish buildings and events. We should step up training in antisemitism and racism for large institutions and organisations, and urge more prosecutions from the courts and professional bodies, where prejudicial and discriminatory behaviour is found. We urge support from other communities. Jews should not be left to combat antisemitism alone. Amidst the tumult, I have been touched by messages of support and solidarity from Christian, Muslim, Hindu and Sikh friends.
In London, we have a formidable record of coexistence and cross-communal understanding. We must resist the forces wishing to import conflict and division from the Middle East. It's often been observed that the attitude towards its Jewish minority is a bellwether for the health of society. What starts with the Jews, never ends with the Jews.
