Are we doing enough – or even the right things – to combat antisemitism? The latest report from the Community Security Trust (CST) records the highest ever annual total of anti-Jewish hate incidents, 24% above the previous peak reached in 2019. Politicians and government officials haven’t ignored the problem – far from it. But, despite their efforts, the number of antisemitic incidents continues to rise, British Jews have become more fearful and the appearance of antisemitism itself reveals depths of ignorance and confusion.
One element that makes this so difficult is the strange mix of consensus and controversy that marks public debate on the subject. The consensus lies at Westminster. Both the home secretary, Priti Patel, and her Labour shadow, Yvette Cooper, responded to the CST report with expressions of alarm and a call to action. At a moment when racism, so central to the culture wars that divide our public sphere, usually provokes disagreement, antisemitism unites the political class as little else.
Unity in the face of antisemitism is remarkable in another sense. Forty years ago, Margaret Thatcher’s government was indifferent when the Board of Deputies of British Jews proposed erecting a Holocaust memorial on the parliamentary estate. It had nothing to do with Britain, according to the foreign secretary, Lord Carrington.
Today by contrast, education about the Holocaust and its memorialisation are widely seen as a remedy for antisemitism. All three main political parties are committed to building a Holocaust memorial next to parliament. The Holocaust is the only compulsory subject in the history national curriculum for pupils aged 13 to 14 and the government funds visits to Poland so schoolchildren can learn lessons from Auschwitz.
Reassurance and support for the Jewish community extends further. The government provides financial support for security at synagogues and schools. In 2016, Britain was the first country to adopt the controversial International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance’s ( IHRA) working definition of antisemitism. The education secretary, Nadhim Zahawi, like his predecessor, has declared his determination to work tirelessly to push universities to adopt and use the document. Antisemitism seems to be one sort of racism that the government is ready to address.
Yet the consensus at Westminster reveals only one part of the picture. There is turbulence elsewhere. Although the Labour party has sought to tackle antisemitism, deep divisions remain in some constituency parties.
At the same time, the focus of the campaign against antisemitism has shifted from Labour to the universities. Some universities hold out against government pressure to adopt the IHRA working definition. Jewish students and their allies welcome its adoption as vindication and protection in face of antisemitism on campus. Other students and staff, usually on the left and usually sympathetic to the Palestinians’ campaign for equality and justice, see the working definition as a threat to political and academic freedoms. In addition to these overtly political conflicts, allegations of antisemitism erupt in an astonishing variety of locations, from the stands of Tottenham Hotspur to the Royal Court theatre.
So what can we do better? One frequent misconception is that the problem we face is one of antisemites. Of course, there are such people, and some carry a violent threat – but in Britain they are a minority, as the important work of the Institute for Jewish Policy Research shows. Presented with eight antisemitic statements, just 0.1% of those surveyed agreed with all eight.
The problem is that antisemitism is a diffuse phenomenon. The same survey found that 30% of respondents agreed with at least one of the antisemitic statements. Antisemitism is part of the culture in which we all live and through which we make sense of the world. It is best conceived of as a reservoir of stereotypes and narratives, which accumulate over time, and from which people draw with ease, whether they intend to or not.
This is why we find antisemitism expressed from positions right across the political spectrum and across society. For the most part our problem is antisemitism, not antisemites. In order to combat antisemitism effectively a wide range of groups and individuals need to recognise how they are susceptible to it.
And this is one reason why the current focus on the Holocaust as a vehicle for antisemitism education should be reconsidered. Despite the effort that goes into Holocaust education, recent research by UCL’s Centre for Holocaust Education shows an alarming level of ignorance among students of what antisemitism is. We should not be surprised. There is a vast disjuncture between the Holocaust – the state-sanctioned murder of 6 million Jews – and the sort of everyday antisemitism experienced in Britain today. There are many excellent reasons to promote knowledge about the Holocaust and to foster the memory of its victims, but we must find better ways to educate about antisemitism.
Jews need allies as they combat antisemitism. Here the picture is mixed. Jewish communal organisations have been successful in securing support among the political class. This is good, but it is not enough. More needs to be done, and not only by Jews, to build bridges between the struggle against anti-Jewish racism and other anti-racist campaigns. The CST collaborates with Tell Mama, which addresses anti-Muslim hatred, and together, they produced a booklet for all victims of hate crime. Several Jewish organisations have shown principled support for refugees in the face of the government’s nationality and borders bill. These are initiatives to build on.
The CST report states that the landscape of UK-based antisemitism in 2021 is “largely defined by responses to conflict in Israel and Palestine”. Support for Palestinians within the left, among non-Jewish minorities and in universities, too often runs alongside indifference to antisemitism, especially when the political class is seen to be quick to respond to anti-Jewish racism. Where it exists, there is an urgent need to challenge this damaging blindspot.
In this context, the preoccupation of the government and Jewish communal bodies with the IHRA working definition is counter-productive. The working definition has become tainted by its repeated abuse. Too often it is used to tarnish opinions that are deeply unwelcome to most Israel-supporting Jews, but which are not antisemitic. It leads many to argue that the IHRA working definition is more a device to protect Israel from criticism than a device to protect Jews from antisemitism.
In the face of this scepticism, the Jerusalem Declaration on Antisemitism, published a year ago (and to which I contributed) can make a valuable contribution. The declaration provides clarity on when criticism of Israel and anti-Zionism lapses into antisemitism, and it aligns the struggle against antisemitism with anti-racism more broadly. It was developed by a group of leading scholars and meets a growing challenge: to provide clear guidance on how to identify and fight antisemitism while protecting free expression. Despite being anathematised by those who would like the IHRA working definition to enjoy a monopoly position, the Jerusalem Declaration can contribute to building the widest possible coalition against antisemitism.
Over the past 30 years, Jewish people have become increasingly prepared to speak out against antisemitism. This welcome and historic development owes something to the wider context of anti-racist activism, which established new norms from which Jews have taken inspiration. At the same time, the earnest response from senior politicians and civil servants has fallen short. One route to further progress will be to repair the frayed connections between the struggle against antisemitism and anti-racist politics more broadly.
David Feldman is the director of the Birkbeck Institute for the Study of Antisemitism
