Jews still live in fear on our streets 80 years after Holocaust

This summer, a Jewish family were branded "child killers" by their taxi driver in Vienna. In Venice, a Jewish couple was attacked near the famous Rialto Bridge with the husband called a "dirty Jew". And just recently, a Rabbi and his children in Bournemouth left their home on the Jewish sabbath to find a swastika daubed on their wall. These incidents are not isolated. They are part of a grim pattern that has become disturbingly routine. Antisemitism is persisting at alarming levels across our society. Jewish people are harassed on the streets, ostracised in their social circles and workplaces, and vilified simply for who they are.

To be clear, this is not 1930s Germany. I do not believe that a second Holocaust is around the corner. But today, 80 years after the Holocaust, 80 years after the world said never again; and 80 years after the final destination for rabid antisemitism was made clear for all to see, the situation for Jewish people here in Britain, and across Europe is bleak.

Holocaust survivors have spoken time and again of their fear - here, in Britain, in 2025. They have shared worries for their children and grandchildren, in the very country that gave them sanctuary after the war. They have said that what they are now seeing, reading and hearing reminds them of some of their own darkest days. Reminders that before the ghettos and camps came the mockery, the exclusion, the silence in the face of rising hostility.

Just the other day, a survivor offered an umbrella to a friend. On noticing that the umbrella bore the logo of a Jewish organisation, she quickly pulled it back, saying softly, "you can't use that one - they'll think you're Jewish and go for you..."

At 94 years old, to speak with such instinctive fear - to see the risk in something as ordinary as an umbrella - is devastating. That moment of hesitation, born from a lifetime of trauma, is not simply about the past. It is a stark warning about the present. When survivors in their nineties feel compelled to hide any trace of Jewish identity for safety, it should shake us all. Because if "never again" is to mean anything, it cannot be allowed to ring hollow while Jews still live in fear on our streets.

I want to be able to reassure the survivors, to tell them they have nothing to fear. But when I hear of yet another antisemitic incident, of Jewish families being attacked, of health care professionals chanting phrases that would not be out of place in a fascist rally, or a swastika daubed on a Jewish home - that becomes increasingly difficult.

We know that Britain is a free society with a long and proud history of tolerance. We know that there are millions of people in this country who are appalled at the idea of antisemitism. But despite this, we find ourselves asking: why do antisemites feel so emboldened in the UK and across Europe today?

There can be no doubt that the primary driver of this tidal wave of antisemitism is the way the conflict between Israel and Gaza is being spoken about here at home. While we all long for an end to the war, for humanitarian aid to reach those in desperate need, and for the hostages who have been held for 700 days to be freed - the way the conflict is discussed in public life is fuelling hatred of Jews. It is moving past analysis, into incitement - whether through music acts leading chants in support of terrorist groups, the BBC amplifying cries of 'death to the IDF', or individuals calling for 'Jewish communities to be held to account'.

It is fuelling antisemitism. And, it is fuelled by antisemitism.

Despite all of this the Jewish community is strong - and once again will march through London on September 7th, demanding that the authorities finally wake up and take a stand against the anti-Jewish hatred that has infected all levels of our society. We demand the right to access the NHS without fearing that our doctor believes in "Jewish supremacy". We demand the right to walk the streets of our cities without being branded child killers. We demand the right to watch our national broadcaster without feeling that antisemitism is being amplified to the masses. Above all, we demand the right to live openly and proudly as Jews in Britain, free from fear.

But as the Jewish community demonstrates this weekend, the question will be in all of our minds: who will stand with us? Who will stand up against this vile hatred? Who will move beyond words of condemnation and take real action to support the Jewish community?

In 1930s Germany, no one stood up for the Jews. Make sure this is different today.

Karen Pollock is the Chief Executive of the Holocaust Educational Trust