Collective memory and traditions are at the heart of what it means to be Jewish in the UK. No matter how religiously observant we may or may not be, most of us still gather with our families on Seder night, still know what it means when a parent or grandparent talks of "having a case packed, just in case".
The Holocaust is part of our collective memory, even if, like me, our immediate ancestors came a century or more ago. The family those individuals left behind in mittel-Europe most likely perished in the Holocaust. So Holocaust Memorial Day has a peculiar resonance for us. It is not "our" day – that is Yom Hashoah. It is a day for everyone, regardless of faith, age or background. It is a day when we share our collective pain with non-Jewish British society, because it is a day that has meaning for everyone.
Holocaust Memorial Day recognises that the Holocaust shook the foundations of civilisation – it showed the fragility of our very civilisation. And yet despite its unprecedented nature, genocides have taken place since then in Cambodia, Rwanda and Bosnia – and genocide is still ongoing in Darfur.
And this year, when the theme is the question, ‘How can life go on?’, we have to think what we can do in modern Britain to help life go on, not only for survivors of the Holocaust, but also for a Britain that is seeing rising levels of antisemitism, increased anti-Muslim hatred, and other forms of prejudice based on people’s identity, such as homophobia, and disability hate crime.
