Galliano is fragile, I was told, we’re not here to put him on trial

It was also the first time Galliano had spoken publicly in Britain about his drunken antisemtic rant in a Paris bar in 2010.

I agreed to do the compering job, naively thinking that it would be a simple process. I assumed I would draft a list of questions, and put them to the panellists in turn.

No chance.

When this paper published a story about some Central Synagogue members threatening to boycott the event over Mr Galliano’s presence, some of the organisers (not all, I must emphasise) were taken aback.

Mr Galliano’s inner-circle became nervous, especially when the story was picked up by other media. This worried the organisers who were doing their best to make him feel comfortable.

I was called into a meeting with Rabbi Barry Marcus — who has befriended Mr Galliano since his fall from grace — and two of the organisers. I was scolded over the JC’s “sensationalist” non-story, even though I had personally received calls from angry shul-goers objecting to the designer’s attendance.

The event, the organisers stressed, had not been designed to put Mr Galliano on trial before an unforgiving community. This was a fragile man, they warned.

To prevent any hecklers becoming a nuisance, organisers decided to post security across the floor and guests were asked to submit questions in advance.

I had not expected them to be so protective. I asked Rabbi Marcus whether he was ashamed of the community?

“I’m not proud,” he answered, pointing out that while the designer had looked to make amends, other figures, such at the actor Mel Gibson, who similarly had lapsed into antisemitic invective while drunk, had not sought forgiveness for offending the British Jewish community.

So we proceeded. Another journalist was brought in — at the request of Mr Galliano’s camp — to make the event more about fashion, I was told, and less, presumably, about antisemitism. One meeting later, she pulled out.

On the very day of the event, the organisers decided to bring in Caroline Burstein — the daughter of Joan Burstein, the founder of fashion retailers Browns. Herself a prominent figure in the fashion industry, she knew Mr Galliano well, I was told.

And so, 10 minutes before taking to the stage, we all gathered around a table for the first time: John Galliano, Ronit Zilkha, Caroline Burstein, Rabbi Marcus, myself and the respective aides.

No one touched the food, which stayed beneath its plastic lids. Nerves were running high. But there was no need to feel nervous. The moment a visibly shaking Mr Galliano began to speak — candidly addressing his antisemitic episode, and wrapping it in a crowd-pleasing smoked salmon bagel joke — he won over the audience, and me as well.

The sour note came instead from Ms Burstein’s slip-up.

Afterwards, I asked Rabbi Marcus whether he was still “not proud” of the community. Perhaps relaxed now it was all over, his answer was very different.

“I did want to protect him,” he said, reflecting on our meetings ahead of the event. “I did not want him to be exposed to some idiot who would stand up and call him an antisemite.

“He is a fragile man in an industry where there is unbelievable pressure.”

Rabbi Marcus said he brushes off those who criticise his work with Mr Galliano. “Mercy, kindness, graciousness — they’re missing. We need to think about different ways of dealing with issues.

“I know I did the right thing after meeting Galliano a few times. He is not an antisemite — he made an error.”