By Rabbi Menachem Margolin
As a rabbi, I am often asked why antisemitism still exists in the twenty-first century. The question itself assumes that after the Holocaust, after the destruction of European Jewry, after all the promises of “never again”, this hatred should have disappeared. But it didn’t. People usually try to explain why by blaming ideology, inherited myths, or the human need, especially in times of crisis, to look for a scapegoat. These explanations are not wrong. But they are not enough.
We have to start with the uncomfortable truth that antisemitism never went away. It survived the Holocaust. It remained deeply rooted in parts of Europe, especially within right-wing extremist movements. The Shoah did not erase hatred, and it did not force everyone to face where that hatred leads. History has shown us, again and again, that even the worst horrors do not automatically create moral clarity.
Judaism teaches that memory alone is not enough. We are commanded to remember, but remembrance without responsibility is meaningless. Too often, remembrance became a ritual, not a lesson, not a commitment to change.
Today, antisemitism spreads mainly through two powerful and connected channels. The first is education. In many Muslim-majority countries, antisemitism is not only absorbed socially, it is taught. It appears in school textbooks, is reinforced at home, and normalized in public discourse. When hatred is taught as fact, as knowledge, it becomes much harder to challenge. This hatred has arrived in Western countries with the massive waves of immigration. That is not me saying this, this is reality.
The second channel is closer to home for Western societies. Universities, places that are supposed to encourage critical thinking and moral responsibility, have become spaces where antisemitism is tolerated, reframed, and even legitimized. Through professors, campus groups, and activist movements that were allowed to operate for years without real scrutiny, old hatred was given new language. Social media then amplified it, stripped it of context, and spread it at a speed we have never seen before.
What makes this moment especially dangerous is not only the spread of antisemitism, but the failure to confront it honestly over the past eighty years. In many Western countries, antisemitism was treated mainly as a legal issue. Laws were passed, and they were necessary. But laws do not educate values. They do not shape conscience. There was far less effort put into education, cultural self-reflection, or institutional accountability.
Judaism teaches that silence in the face of injustice is itself a wrongdoing. By minimizing antisemitism, by excusing it when it appears in acceptable ideological forms, or by holding it to a different standard than other hatred, societies allowed it to adapt and survive. Yes, antisemitism is different, it is unique in the way it keeps changing, evolving over the years, but never disappears. There were always new reasons for antisemitism to continue, and scapegoats are always needed, and for a minority, especially a minority that had 6 million of its people murdered in the Holocaust, fighting it alone was proven impossible.
Antisemitism is not a problem of the past. It is a test of moral clarity today. If it is to be confronted seriously, it must be challenged not only through legislation or education, but as a threat, just like any government would fight an enemy or an external aggressor.
Yes, we all know that we can’t control people’s beliefs or ideas, but we can control how they act. If this were impossible, we would not be living in an organized society but in the Wild West. The majority of people don’t commit crimes because they know they will be punished for it. I can’t say the same for hate crimes against the Jewish people. Can you?
We all know that hatred thrives where responsibility is avoided. History has already shown us that antisemitism does not disappear on its own. The real question is whether we in Western countries are finally willing to confront it with the seriousness it has always demanded, and by making brave decisions, even ones that might not be popular.
Rabbi Menachem Margolin is Chairman of the European Jewish Association (EJA).