Europe’s policies to combat antisemitism have failed the ‘real world’ test

Rabbi Menachem Margolin is the chairman of the European Jewish Association, which represents hundreds of Jewish Communities across the Continent.

Part of my job as a rabbi is to inspire, to show my fellow Jews beauty in the seemingly mundane. It is to rally, lead and keep the flame of Judaism alight — a flame that’s endured for thousands of years despite repeated efforts to extinguish it.

But with reported or documented cases of antisemitism through the roof since the Oct. 7 attacks on southern Israel — in Spain, France and the U.K., the rise is over 1,000 percent — my role has become even more challenging, to say the least.

“Never again.” Everybody knows these words. But what exactly do they mean? No more concentration camps? No more mass murder? One would certainly hope so.

And what about never allowing the circumstances that led to Nazi barbarity happen again? Does “never again” mean that too? The Jewish communities across Europe certainly hope so.

But it appears we’re laboring under misapprehension.

Back in 2021, in the middle of the Covid-19 pandemic and a worrying rise in antisemitism across the Continent, the European Commission published a detailed strategy for combating antisemitism. The strategy was handed to member countries, which, in turn, were to adopt measures and develop national plans — and many did. A great many also signed up to the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance’s definition of antisemitism, patting themselves on the back for doing so.

Of course, we welcomed this.

But any strategy must ultimately pass a “real-world” test. So, how have these strategies and plans held up in the post-Oct. 7 landscape?

Earlier this year in the Netherlands, Holocaust Memorial Day events at universities were cancelled due to security worries and vociferous opposition to memorialization. And just recently in Amsterdam, there were protests at the opening of a new Holocaust Museum.

Across many the Continent’s capitals — and it must be said, mainly in those with significant Muslim populations — there are now regularly occurring protests where one can see Nazi images referring to Jews and images drawing parallels between Gaza and Auschwitz; one can hear calls for Jewish genocide and ethnic cleansing “from the river to the sea.”

Across Europe, one can find placards calling Jews terrorists; the blood libel of child killers is used regularly; death threats against rabbis are common; Jews are insulted on the street daily; and our children are cursed at. Europeans who have served in the Israel Defense Forces are outed in their communities via letter campaigns, saying a “child killer” is living next door to them. Flights arriving from Israel are tracked and met by protesters, and the Jewish Community President in Porto takes his child to nursery wearing a bullet proof vest.

Posters from the “We will survive” collective pasted on a wall on Chaussee d’Antin street in the 9th arrondissement with slogans repeating anti-Semitic prejudices such as “they say the Jews control the world and you?” or “they say the Jews are rich and you?”, in Paris | Hans Lucas/AFP via Getty Images

These are just a few of the many, many examples of daily life for Jews in Europe today. And they answer any questions regarding the worth of all the plans and strategies that were put in place.

Regrettably, these measures currently have no visible or demonstrable practical application across Europe. Or, as one Dutch Jewish community president put it: “They aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on.”

So, what’s happening in the real world? Police departments are hamstrung in the face of openly antisemitic protests, unsure, and therefore unable, to stop public manifestations of hate. The courts, too, seem to have little to no framework available when it comes to prosecuting the antizionists and antisemites who have made our collective Jewish life here in Europe hell.

The result? Jew haters are emboldened because they can act with impunity.

Today, the number one cost for Jewish communities is security. Jews are largely on their own, footing the bill for private security and equipment — funds that could be used for Sunday schooling, community development or holiday celebrations. I should also add here that the EU just put out a call for funding the security of Jewish institutions, but the bloc’s bureaucracy is often so cumbersome that — as one prominent rabbi put it — “it’s like asking someone to fill out a lengthy insurance form while your house is on fire.”

In short — and let me be blunt — if governments aren’t prepared, or are unwilling, to turn words into action, all the plans and IHRA adoptions, the entire strategy will be useless.