As the focus of Israel’s war against terror now shifts from Gaza to confronting Hezbollah, for Jews in the diaspora – especially here in the UK – the past year has felt like the end of a golden era for our community.
Before October 7, security levels outside shuls and Jewish schools were minimal. Despite the rare occasions when we experienced name-calling, it was safe to travel around wearing a kippah or any symbol clearly identifying us as Jewish.
It was an era when being a member of the Jewish community felt like belonging to any other community in the UK. My children’s Jewish school in north London is an example of how things have changed.
They must make the long journey there and back from our home in west London on public transport. Immediately after October 7, the school put out this security advice: “We suggest that students should not wear identifying uniform on their way to and from school. Blazers (should be) in bags or covered by coats, and PE leggings (which have the school name) covered by joggers.”
Just think about this for a minute: any item identifying children as Jewish should be hidden. What other community has to put up with something like this? Shortly after October 7, I received advice that my children should not go to our local high street (which is close to the Israeli Embassy), or to shop in Zara, M&S or H&M on days when there are large anti-Israel protests. Despite a significant police presence.
Having seen first-hand the hostile atmosphere on these days, I felt this advice was well worth heeding. I was surprised and delighted to receive calls from a number of non-Jewish friends and acquaintances who, out of the blue, asked me if my family and I were OK in light of the grim atmosphere, which, of course, we were not.
I have, over a long and varied career, had the honour and pleasure to work with former members of the British special forces, some of whom have offered, in the wake of October 7, to shadow my children on their journey to school to ensure they were safe. Again, just think about that for a moment. The ability of my children to influence anything in the Middle East is precisely zero, so why should anyone attempt to hold them responsible for anything that happens there?
My eldest is now about to start university. Post October 7, one of the critical factors in choosing a university, along with the usual time-honoured criteria, was: is this a safe place for a young Jewish person to study?
It’s a matter of common knowledge that there has been a huge increase on campuses in antisemitism of the kind not seen in this country since the 1930s. It is the natural reaction of a Jewish parent, or any parent for that matter, to worry about their children, their welfare and happiness, but right now things feel different.
I was heavily involved in movements that campaigned against the extreme right in the late 1970s and I was a student leader in the early 1980s. These were difficult times but I drew great strength from those who stood with the Jewish community then, especially those on the left.
It is a matter of huge regret and concern that today, as we face a new wave of anti-Jewish racism, the ranks of those standing with us are very much thinner and significantly less vocal.
This is not to decry the hard work that has taken place attempting to push back this bigotry. However, as a community we are going to have to come together in a way we have not done before to ensure that we overcome these evils.
I am sure none of us want to be remembered as the last generation of the golden age of the UK Jewish community.
The alternative doesn’t bear thinking about.
Joe Carlebach is a former Conservative councillor and council cabinet member and is currently national co-chair of Masorti Judaism. The views expressed in this article are entirely his own
