Current support for fighting antisemitism must not be a moment, but a movement

When I was a boy, I had the same ambitions many children do. If you had asked six-year-old me what I wanted to be, I might have said a pilot, or a policeman. A few years later, with a growing interest in politics, I remember once declaring that I wanted to be Prime Minister, imagining, no doubt, the moment I would walk through the door of 10 Downing Street.

Life, of course, had other plans.

That early curiosity led me to study politics at A level, and while I never entered public office, I have spent much of my professional life navigating the world of politics and those who shape it. Through my work with Jewish Care, I have had the privilege of seeing Prime Ministers up close, not as a spectator, but occasionally as someone helping to shape the words they would deliver. Words about compassion, about community, about the work we do. Those moments brought a real sense of pride.

And yet, today felt very different.

As I stepped once again through that famous black door, it was not with pride alone, but with a profound sense of sadness, tempered, just about, by hope. I had been invited to a Prime Minister’s forum on tackling antisemitism, alongside leaders from across British society. The room was serious, purposeful, and at times heavy with the weight of why we were there at all.

That such a forum is necessary is, in itself, deeply troubling.

There will be those who argue that this government, and those before it, must bear responsibility for where we find ourselves. There is truth in that. But having seen the inner workings of government, I also know this: politicians often claim more credit than they deserve when things go right. It follows that they cannot carry sole blame when society falls short.

Last week, I made a rare public statement about something I have long hoped to see, a shift in tone, a groundswell of support, an outpouring of solidarity that felt genuine and overdue. But I also issued a warning.

It cannot be just a moment. It must become a movement.

Because when voices come together, across communities, across faiths, across differences – they do more than resist hate. They redefine the space in which hate can exist.

And today, in that room, I felt the beginnings of that.

We have spent too long in recent years pulled toward the extremes of our political spectrum. But I find myself holding onto the words of Lord Simon Wolfson, who spoke so eloquently at a recent Jewish Care event, when he said: when it truly matters, this country will do the right thing.

It matters now.

And, while there are a few exceptions on our fringes, the voices I heard today are beginning to come together.

I no longer spend time imagining what I might be when I grow up. Instead, I look at my children and wonder what kind of country they will inherit. The data tells us that the vast majority of people in this country still want what we all want: a Britain that is open, decent, and big enough to hold people of all faiths and none.

That is the Britain I believe in.

And in many ways, it already exists – in the work of Jewish Care, where people from more than 70 nations, mostly of other faiths, come together with a shared purpose: to care.

Perhaps the next time I walk through that door, it will be to celebrate that spirit once again, not as an aspiration, but as a reality we chose to build together.

Daniel Carmel-Brown is CEO of Jewish Care