Yom Kippur is perhaps one of the best attended religious dates in any synagogue’s year. One of the most solemn and meaningful days in the Jewish calendar, it marks the culmination of ten days’ introspection on which Jews believe God seals their fate for the year. Think of it as an all-day, shared confessional. 

So, like Jews going back centuries before me have done in their own way, I was in synagogue on Yom Kippur last week. And it was as I came out from the children’s services that my wife told me of the attack on a synagogue in Halle, Germany. 

As a fellow human being, I felt chilled and hollow – but we Jews have a collective memory, a shared history, language, culture, and yes, religion. Any attack on fellow Jews feels like an attack on extended family members. I immediately projected onto myself a similar situation. From where I was standing, what I would do if someone attacked our site? Where would I go?

Moments later, I met a friend who had been volunteering with the security team that keeps us safe on Jewish festivals and Sabbaths. He had known of the attack “but don’t worry,” he assured us. “It wouldn’t happen here, to us.”

The truth is, I’m not so confident. Last week’s attack in Halle is one of my worst living nightmares. It compounds the fears I and so many other Jews have about the society we live in, and the fear that we will have to shield our children or be apart when we or they are subjected to an attack.

As an observant Jew, I have a long and active history of engagement with the Jewish community and in my day job, I deal with anti-Semitism. As a result, I can tell you that for me and for my children going to school, here in Britain, means knowing the names of security personnel outside our buildings. It also means I know that in Germany, Holland, France and elsewhere, it is often the army that has to guard Jewish locations.

I know from my work on anti-Semitism the impact it has on parliamentarians when we show them the security procedures required to protect the Jewish community. Ian Austin MP told me how his constituents in Dudley would be shocked to know the extent of what we Jews have to do to live in peace. I also know how pernicious, unrelenting and widespread unchecked anti-Semitism is.

I have seen it, first-hand, shouted at me through my door when phone salespeople refused to accept I didn’t want to buy their goods, or levelled by way of death threats against my good friend Luciana Berger because she dared to take a stand against anti-Semitism. I’ve even heard it with my own ears from current members of parliament, seeking to convince me of an Israeli conspiracy to undermine British politics.

My job is to ensure that discussion of anti-Semitism is not over-inflated, that we have a sensible moderate discourse about it. So, I know that in the CST, we have a world-leading security organisation which works tirelessly day in and day out to keep us safe. I could tell you that there were 1,652 anti-Semitic incidents last year, and that the number is trending upward, but also that we have some of the best race relations laws in the world here at home. 

I can tell you about the institutional and civic protections we have for Jewish and indeed other minorities in the UK. I can tell you that the Jewish community is proud, vocal and engages fully in British life. We have Jewish artists, scientists, musicians, captains of industry, philanthropists and politicians. We contribute to, and delight in, being British.

And yet we find ourselves in 2019 with Jews changing how we live. I could and would like to detail for you what we have to do, but I cannot for fear of risking my community’s security. That in of itself should tell you the considerations we have to make to live a Jewish life.

Whether it be a kosher deli in Paris, a Jewish school in Toulouse, the Jewish Museum in Belgium or a synagogue in Pittsburgh, anti-Jewish murders are now a global occurrence. All I am prepared to say is that it is rare you will be able to attend a Jewish event without challenge.  

Israelis often say they have changed the place they sit in cafes following the wave of suicide bombings that plagued Israeli establishments in the early 2000s – they would plan personal exit routes and so forth. I don’t doubt some Jews probably feel similarly about Jewish venues in Britain today. 

Yet, despite the threat of terrorism, there is something equally sinister and unsettling that we are seeing in Britain today: anti-Semitism too often in the headlines. As a Jew, I feel desperately uncomfortable seeing Jews in the headlines in this way. Trust me, we’d far rather anti-Semitism wasn’t a hot topic. However, in our politics there is a discourse which has not been adequately challenged and which is feeding the extremes. 

Conspiracy theories abound and language about ‘elites’, the ‘establishment’, ‘enemies of the people’ and so on seems ubiquitous despite being deeply unhelpful, particularly when voiced by leading politicians across the political spectrum. This sets up an ‘us versus them’ narrative and a conspiracy culture, particularly online, the beating heart of which is and has long been anti-Semitism.

It isn’t just the subliminal messaging though – we see old fashioned anti-Semitism not even under the guise of anti-Zionism but outright racism about Jews thinking they are better than others. I wonder where this narrative  has led some, across the political spectrum, to query the requirement for security funding for Jewish locations, when such funding is a moral imperative. The CST administers some £14 million pounds, ensuring that Jewish schools and other locations are properly protected. The CST is the reason that despite all of the potential dangers, many Jews feel safe. It is an outstanding organisation and one that is not just of benefit to the Jewish community but that is reaching out and working to assist other communities which are subject to violent threats.

So what needs to change? With my professional hat on, I could suggest that we need the government to quickly bring forward its plans to introduce a regulator in the social media space. I might suggest we require an overhaul of penal reform and prison education, that PSHE education would enable us to better help children to learn what antisemitism is and how to challenge discrimination. I could talk at length about responsible political discourse and the anxiety we have communally about political parties taking action against anti-Semitism.

However, personally, all I’ve ever wanted is for people to take the simple action of contacting a Jewish friend at a difficult time, or speaking out when they overhear anti-Semitism. All I’ve ever wanted is for people to care.

Danny Stone is chief executive of the Antisemitism Policy Trust

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