There’s something I’ve noticed over the years that’s hard to ignore. Twenty years ago, I visited the places in Europe where six million of my people were murdered. Every corner, every town, seemed to carry a monument, a memorial, a reminder of lives extinguished. And yet, this was an era when Jewish life itself was still fragile—muted, marginalized, often under threat.

Today, in Israel, I see world leaders, dignitaries, and friends walking the halls of Yad Vashem and Holocaust memorials across Europe. They listen to survivor testimonies and emerge visibly moved, speaking with sincerity about empathy, remembrance, and the moral imperative of “never again.”

I believe many of them mean it, in that moment.

But then something shifts.

When Jews—living Jews—defend themselves, whether in our homeland or abroad, too many of these same voices falter. They hedge. They equivocate. Some even side, implicitly or explicitly, with violent actors who openly call for our destruction.

Worse still, when Jews are attacked, the first question almost always seems to be: What did they do to deserve it? There must be context. There must be justification. There must be blame to assign.

And just as telling as what is said… is what is not.

Silence in the face of existential threats is never neutral. It creates space—for distortion, for moral confusion, and for those who would prefer a........

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)