OPINION: With friends like these, who needs anti-semites?

As one of the UK’s delegates to the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA), it’s something of an occupational hazard that I spend a lot of time reading about antisemitism, in all its guises – verbal abuse, physical attacks, online trolling, harassment, intimidation, Far Right conspiracy theories, Far Left conspiracy theories; the list goes on.

But while these forms of antisemitism may make headlines and appear in official statistics that put Jews on high alert, other forms are more surreptitious. We may find ourselves confronted by them where we least expect it.

At an event a few days ago, a woman sitting next to me raised her hand during the Q&A. When she was called on, she rambled for a bit before getting around to what she really wanted to ask, and what she wanted to ask was: what is the secret to the Jews’ success in business?

It’s at this point that I should probably mention that the keynote speaker at the event — the person to whom this question was posed — was a Holocaust survivor, and the event was to commemorate Holocaust Memorial Day.

It’s also worth noting that the theme of HMD this year was ‘Ordinary People’ and this event very much focused on that topic, challenging attendees to consider the ordinariness of the victims, resistors and rescuers, as well as of the perpetrators, bystanders and collaborators. The message could hardly be more clear: we all have the capacity to make a difference; it is up to us whether we want that to be a positive, uplifting difference or the sort of difference that de-humanises and destroys.

And yet this textbook example of antisemitism, equating Jews and money, seemingly sailed over the heads of everyone in the room. Not one of the 100 or so ordinary people in attendance murmured a word of disapproval. (I, for one, resolved to speak to the woman afterwards – more on that below.)

As it happens, this question was merely tied for the most inappropriate thing to happen at this commemoration. There was something else.

A faith leader was asked to share a few of his reflections, and in his remarks, he gamely set out to balance just the right amount of mournfulness with a sprinkling of hopefulness – as is the norm at these events. He advanced his PowerPoint presentation to the next slide to reveal a hackneyed motivational quote of the sort you might find framed in an AirBNB rental, something about the ability of ordinary people to become extraordinary.

‘I’d like to share with you a quote,’ he said, by way of introducing it, ‘… from Elon Musk.’

OK, so in this case the statement itself wasn’t antisemitic, it was just something inane that happens to have been expressed by the world’s greatest enabler of antisemites (in 2023). This is a man who has gladly welcomed onto his platform rabid Jew-haters such as Nick Fuentes and Kanye West. A man whose stewardship of Twitter has brought about a sharp spike in antisemitic and racist abuse. This must not be normalised, anywhere. It goes without saying that the so-called wisdom of Elon Musk belongs nowhere near a Holocaust memorial event.

I’m intentionally leaving out the details of where and when this event took place, because my aim here isn’t to publicly embarrass its organisers, who I am quite sure had all of the best intentions.

The salient point here is about the nature of antisemitism in 2023. It has become so pervasive, yet so banal, that even people who had chosen to spend an evening examining its extreme consequences weren’t able to recognise it for what it was. And if this level of ignorance can exist at a Holocaust Memorial Day event, then I shudder to think what goes on elsewhere.

Our challenge as we move on from Holocaust Memorial Day 2023 is to emphasise that antisemitism isn’t always announced with a Nazi salute or a fist or an expletive. These varieties of antisemitism are glaring and therefore fairly easy and convenient to call out. But antisemitism can also take the form of unconscious bias that has become culturally internalised to the extent that ordinary people can become the unwitting purveyors of it.

If you’re wondering what transpired when I spoke to the ‘Jews are good at business’ lady after the HMD event, it was a friendly exchange, but she was genuinely baffled about how her words could have caused any offence. I tried to explain that the association with Jews and money was an ancient trope, the origins of which were far from flattering – they had to do with Jews being excluded from certain other professions.

Through my work, I regularly lead trainings about antisemitism. I have done this for policy makers and educators around the world. I take pride in being good at talking about antisemitism, but with this person, I was getting absolutely nowhere. It was equal parts maddening and humbling. The closest we came to any resolution was her concession that because she believes in facts, she would pledge to go home and research whether or not it is true that most Jews are indeed good business people. If the evidence proved her wrong, she promised, she would stop repeating it.

I had to be going. My two-hour parking and my patience were both about to expire. But I thought I’d make a bit of polite small talk, to make sure we ended on a positive note.

‘So, what brought you to tonight’s event, anyway?’ I asked.

‘Oh, me?’ she responded, ‘I just love the Jews so much!’

With friends like these, who needs antisemites?

For more information on Association of Jewish Refugees please visit www.ajr.org.uk

• Alex Maws is Head of Education and Heritage, The Association of Jewish Refugees (AJR)