We cannot effectively fight antisemitism if we tolerate other forms of hatred

Like many in our community, I was glad that previously competing events planned for 10 May came together in a shared stand against antisemitism. At first, concerns about some involved seemed eased by compromise and consensus, allowing much of our community to stand united.

Sadly, that spirit of civility and consensus did not hold on the day.

I believe the organisers sincerely tried to bring diverse communal speakers and allies to stand with British Jews. But it is not accurate to describe the event as “not about politics” and “not about the Middle East”.

The political parties invited, the tone and focus of some speeches, the heckling and booing of progressive speakers, and the treatment of attendees objecting to Reform UK’s presence all made the event feel political — and slanted to the right.

I joined others in encouraging allies from diverse communities to stand alongside British Jews in demanding an end to the terror, hate and violence we have faced in recent years — especially in recent months and weeks — from the killing of two people at Heaton Park Hebrew Congregation to the stabbing of two Jewish men in Golders Green.

Jewish communities are right to demand solidarity. But our fight against antisemitism must never come at the expense of others facing hatred. We should be cautious about aligning with politicians or public figures who offer vocal support for Jews while expressing, enabling or excusing hostility toward Muslims, immigrants, asylum seekers or Palestinians.

Anti-Muslim hatred, anti-immigrant rhetoric and anti-Palestinian prejudice also harm Jews whose families, identities, friendships and solidarities cross those lines.
I was present at the rally on Sunday, and after hearing Kemi Badenoch and the Rt Revd Lusa Nsenga-Ngoy speak with conviction and courage, it was jarring, thinking of Jews of colour and allies from Black communities, to see Richard Tice speak under a banner of confronting racism and hate.

Hours earlier, Tice had failed to directly condemn comments by a newly elected and since suspended Reform councillor who had written that Nigerians should be “melted down” to “fill in the pot holes”. Instead, he sought to deflect questions about racism in his party by citing his rally appearance.

That should trouble us.

The issue is not whether people who disagree with us politically can ever stand with Jews. Of course they can. It is whether our communal platforms should launder the reputations of parties and figures while fuelling hostility toward other minorities.

The warning signs were not hidden.

Days before the rally, Gideon Falter, chief executive of the Campaign Against Antisemitism, posted on LinkedIn: “Welcome to the #Britifada”, with an image depicting London in flames, masked knife-wielding figures, a “Free Palestine” placard and a fused Palestinian flag and Union Jack.

This framing of Britain as consumed by a violent uprising associated with Muslims, Palestinians and pro-Palestinian activism was echoed on the day. Alongside repeated references to “hate marches” and signs equating anti-Zionism with terrorism, there was a troubling conflation of tackling antisemitism with silencing support for Palestinians.

Antisemitic violence is real. Jewish fear is real. Some public expressions of anti-Zionism have crossed into antisemitism, intimidation and support for violence. We should say so clearly.

But how we do so, and the language we use, matters.

The same concern applies to Reform UK’s presence. Before the local elections and rally, Nigel Farage continued the fear-mongering of parts of the Brexit debate, posting on X that Europe was at “breaking point” and that “the invasion will continue even faster under Labour”.

This is not neutral language about immigration policy. It is the language of invasion, collapse and civilisational threat.

Alan Mendoza, Reform UK’s Chief Advisor on Global Affairs, went further. Alongside an image of the Golders Green attacker, he wrote that Britain had “imported alien values” and that people subscribing to an “alien religious ideology” should be “removed from this country”.

This is far beyond legitimate debate about immigration, integration or Islamist extremism. It dissolves the distinction between violent extremism and Muslim communities more broadly, while echoing narratives about immigrants and Islam damaging our society.

Thankfully, some of the rhetoric I feared most was not shared from the stage. Yet I remain deeply troubled that figures and parties using hostile language were welcomed into a communal space dedicated to confronting racism and hate.

Too often, appeals to “unity” and “compromise” suggest that concerns about hostility to Muslims, immigrants, asylum seekers and Palestinians should be set aside. But genuine unity means drawing clear boundaries around what our community platforms, legitimises or stands alongside.

Our community’s safety matters profoundly. So does maintaining the moral consistency to reject bigotry in all its forms, including when politically convenient to overlook it.

In dangerous times, we should rally around leaders — and seek allies — who uphold those principles consistently, not only when it suits them.