Don’t leave British Jews to face this terror alone
British Jews are being abused in the streets of their own country. Yet before we are even allowed to speak about our fear, we are told to explain ourselves first
We cannot speak about our own fear without someone handing us the script they have already prepared. The victim card. ‘What about the thousands dying in Gaza?’ It arrives before we have even finished the sentence. We cannot talk about Jewish people being attacked on British streets without being expected to first declare our position on a conflict thousands of miles away. Say the right things, distance yourself in the right ways, denounce the right people, and maybe then your experience will be taken seriously.
It is a form of conditional humanity that we would never apply to any other group. You do not ask a Muslim person to denounce extremism before you defend their right to be safe. You do not ask a black person to align themselves with certain politics before you acknowledge their pain.
But with Jews, there is always a but.
And so we are pushed into a corner just to be allowed to speak about our own safety. And when we do speak, when anyone dares to show solidarity with us publicly, watch what happens. The comments fill within minutes. Have the Zionists got to them? The Zionist agenda is controlling the media. It is the oldest playbook of hatred in existence, repackaged for social media, and it works. It silences people. It makes standing with us feel too costly.
That is the world Jewish people in this country are living in right now. And I want to ask the people who have been so loud about every other injustice a simple question.
Where are you?
Over the past few years, I have watched musicians, actors, and celebrities take to their platforms to speak out against hate, discrimination, and war. I have watched people fill social media every single day, change their profile pictures, write open letters, and attend vigils. People I know. People I respect. People who speak loudly and proudly about standing for peace, love and the protection of innocent lives. I am not saying they should not have done any of that. I am not saying their cause is wrong.
But I need them to hear this.
In recent months, British Jews have been attacked repeatedly on the streets of their own country. Four Hatzola ambulances, driven by volunteers who give up their time to save lives, were set on fire in Golders Green. A synagogue in Harrow was attacked. A Jewish charity’s premises were targeted.
The Finchley Reform Synagogue was subject to an attempted arson. A memorial wall displaying photos of those killed on 7 October was targeted. In Slough, a visibly Orthodox Jewish man was minding his own business at work when a stranger approached him on a bicycle, called him a baby killer, and threatened to break his jaw. A man was subsequently charged with racially aggravated assault.
The victim said afterwards that he found himself thinking, ‘What were you thinking going out like this, in England, as a visible Jew?’ That sentence should stop every single one of us in our tracks.
And then came Golders Green. A man made his way to one of London’s most prominent Jewish areas and began hunting Jews on the street. Deliberately. Specifically. Two men, Shilome Rand, aged 34, and Moshe Shine, aged 76, were stabbed in broad daylight in a terrorist attack. The UK terror threat level has since been raised to severe.
On Yom Kippur 2025, the holiest day in the Jewish calendar, a terrorist drove a car into worshippers and attacked them with a knife outside a synagogue in Manchester. Two Jewish men were killed. Adrian Daulby, aged 53. Melvin Cravitz, aged 66. Murdered for being Jewish on their holiest day of the year.
On 14 December 2025, on the second night of Hanukkah, two gunmen opened fire on a public Jewish celebration at Bondi Beach in Sydney, Australia. Fifteen people were killed, including a 10-year-old girl and a Holocaust survivor. It was the deadliest terrorist attack in Australian history. ISIS claimed responsibility.
The victim said afterwards that he found himself thinking, ‘What were you thinking going out like this, in England, as a visible Jew?’ That sentence should stop every single one of us in our tracks
And in each case, the same pattern. Some coverage. Some shock. Then quiet. Then nothing.
The only people I see posting about any of this are other Jewish people. I have had private messages from non-Jewish friends, checking in, asking if my family is okay. I appreciate every single one. But they will not post publicly. And I understand it feels complicated. But I think most Jewish people would rather see someone who is not Jewish actually stand up and say something out loud than receive a quiet message in private.
The world does not change in private messages.
The government has declared antisemitism an emergency. Twenty-five million pounds have been pledged for security at synagogues and Jewish schools. Politicians have visited Golders Green. Those things matter. But does more money fix a problem this deep? Because it feels like we cannot win either way. If security funding is increased, people question why we deserve it. If the marches that have incubated this hatred are raised as a concern, we get the blame for that conversation, too. We are held responsible for every response to the problem, as well as the problem itself.
I am a Jewish DJ and musician. I have filed multiple hate crime reports for being targeted mid-set for wearing my Star of David. I work as marketing manager for BNJC, Brighton’s Jewish community. I have sat with Holocaust survivors. I have worked with families who lost people on 7 October. I know what it is to be Jewish in this country right now.
And what it feels like is this. The people who claim to care most about injustice do not seem to care enough about ours to say a single word.
We are not asking you to take a side in a war. We are not asking you to agree with every decision made by every Jewish institution or government. We are asking something far simpler than that.
We are being attacked. We are being killed. Not thousands of miles away. Here. On our streets. In our synagogues. In our communities.
We can hear your silence. We just wish you could, too.
- Howard Kaye is a DJ, musician and marketing manager at BNJC
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