I want you to know,” my sister said to me a few months ago, “that if ever you need it, we’re here for you. You can come to us.”

I paused just a moment before replying. “Same to you,” I said. “If you need to come to us, we’re here for you.”

I’ve thought about this exchange often since. My sister lives in Netanya. I’m in north London. Which of us is more likely to have to flee their home in need of shelter?

My answer was, of course based on the very obvious threat to life that Israelis face daily. Netanya, in central Israel, hasn’t had many rockets overhead up till now (although that is changing now, and this week she messaged several times from her shelter) but every Israeli is all too aware that they are surrounded by enemies in the north, in the south, in Gaza, Lebanon, Syria and Yemen.

After October 7 there is also no doubt about the nature of that threat. If Israel’s enemies are able to they will rape, torture, kidnap and murder every single Israeli civilian. Who would blame my sister and her family if they decided to sit out the current conflict by returning to London?

In contrast, my life in London is hardly changed. Yes, I’ve lost some Facebook friends. I avoid central London on the days when it’s full of anti-Israel marchers but I was never much one for going into central London at weekends anyway. And one of my neighbours has hung a Palestinian flag from his window since last October, plus “End Israeli Apartheid” signs, but he’s not someone I know. He’s not right next door. It all seems small beer compared to having hundreds of rockets flying at you.

But talking to my sister and other British Jews living in Israel, that’s not the way they see it at all. As my friend Karen, who has lived in Israel for decades, puts it: “As a British Jew living in Israel, I feel more at peace and secure, at a personal level, than I ever would in the UK. The rise of virulent antisemitism in the UK feels to me more personally threatening than the conflict we face here in Israel. In Britain the hatred feels personal, coming from people who have no connection to or interaction with Jews, yet their hostility targets us for who we are: Jews. The antisemitism I’ve seen in the UK feels deeply rooted in a culture that is growing more openly hostile to Jews, even among schoolchildren. The notion that someone would hate me simply because I’m Jewish terrifies me far more than the idea of being targeted for my nationality.

In Israel, she says, the conflict feels less personal: “Perhaps because I rarely encounter Palestinians. The only second- hand interaction I’ve had has been through the Jerusalem choir, run by my son-in-law, which brings together Palestinian and Jewish youth twice a week. It’s a space for discussion, interaction, and mutual understanding through music. They are a wonderful example of what our relationship with Palestinians could be and should be. The handful of other Palestinians I call friends are people I have worked with over the years who have always been open to discussion and we hear each other there is no blind hatred. In the UK, however, the animosity feels much stronger, hatred from second or third-generation individuals who have never set foot in the Middle East but express venomous hatred towards Jews.

”The safety I feel in Israel is rooted in the knowledge that we can defend ourselves here. If we are attacked, we respond. If rockets are fired at us, we strike back. It’s the reality of living in a country that is ours by right, where war is not a personal threat but a defence of our homeland. I understand that to outsiders the sirens and the constant threat of rockets seem terrifying but living here I feel safer than walking the streets of London, where antisemitism feels pervasive and, more importantly, unchecked.”

I take her point. And yet I still don’t feel it in the way that she does. Maybe it’s because the antisemitism that I see in London is balanced by the many friends who have been supportive, and a feeling that many British people understand the difference between Jews and Israel, Israel and its government, and “the Palestinians” and Hamas better than we give them credit for.

Ultimately, it comes down to whether you feel more British or more Jewish, I guess. Up until October 7, 2023 I always felt more British. But now – well, I’m at 50/50. What would it take, I wonder, to tip me over to feeling that I’d prefer to risk the impersonal rockets?