March Against Antisemitism
Robert Crampton joined last Sunday's march in London in a show of solidarity with the UK's Jewish community.
Noticeable by their absence were any Labour or trade union banners which is odd since the trigger for this latest crisis was a murderous terror attack on innocent Israeli civilians.
https://www.thetimes.co.uk/profile/robert-crampton?page=1I was on the march against antisemitism — there was one thing missing
By Robert Crampton - The Times
I went on the march against antisemitism on Sunday afternoon in London. So did (estimates vary) somewhere between 60,000 and 100,000 other people. Let’s split the difference and call it 80,000. The Jewish population of England and Wales at the last census was 271,000. So, given that most of those marching were, unlike me, Jewish, then possibly a quarter of that number were present. Or, assuming (perhaps unfairly) that not many people travelled a long distance to attend, about half the Jews in London came. Which is a remarkable turnout.
Obviously I couldn’t check everyone’s ethnicity. Still, I consulted three friends, all Jewish, and they confirmed that, as far as they could tell, they reckoned most marchers belonged to the same faith as them.
It was a decent afternoon out. I met several friends, increased my step count and enjoyed some of the quirkier placards: “I Was Told There Would Be Bagels” was a favourite. Also: “More Hummus, Less Hamas”. As a veteran of many demonstrations who always thought chanting was both ludicrous and sinister, and therefore counterproductive, I was delighted by its absence. One dare-I-say caricature Jewish mother, in reference to my recent columns on dieting, came over and told me (accusingly), “You’ve lost too much weight!” The threat of chicken soup hung unspoken in the air.
Two things concerned me, however. The context for the first is that last week I attended a screening of the 43-minute film the Israeli authorities have compiled using raw footage shot during the Hamas massacre on October 7. I then described what I saw in an article in this paper. The reaction to that article has taken me aback. I don’t mean the handful of callous, blinkered zealots (some of whom, seriously, need to see a doctor, asap) who cast doubt on either the veracity of the video or the legitimacy of my all-too-human reaction to it. I mean taken aback by the extravagant gratitude I’ve received online from hundreds of people telling me how great I am simply for watching and then writing about that unspeakable racist horror show in southern Israel.
Shuffling along the Strand and Whitehall, this gratitude was redoubled in the flesh. I was stopped perhaps a dozen times by strangers to say, effusively, thank you. A couple of marchers offered heartfelt hugs, both in recognition of my article and my attendance. I began to feel embarrassed.
Now, don’t get me wrong, this attention was very welcome, flattering, a lovely boost for the not-inconsiderable Crampton ego. And yet it made me think: Britain’s Jews must be feeling pretty lonely to be so chuffed that a non-Jew has merely a) reminded a wider audience of the savagery of October 7 and b) turned up to show solidarity with his friends and fellow citizens. Neither of these actions (truthful reporting, opposing antisemitism) do I regard as morally complex, controversial or courageous. They certainly should not be.
My second worry was: where was the left? I speak as someone whose relatives not only participated in the Battle of Cable Street in 1936, but as trade unionists and members of the Communist Party of Great Britain, helped to organise the resistance to Oswald Mosley’s fascists marching through the Jewish East End. Yet on Sunday I didn’t see any union or Labour banners. And while I’m sure some attended, I did not see any prominent shadow cabinet members among the throng of celebrities and Conservative ministers present. The theme of the march was one with which any reasonable person can easily agree. The failure of the left to front up was humiliating, mystifying and spectacularly ill-judged.
I went on the march against antisemitism on Sunday afternoon in London. So did (estimates vary) somewhere between 60,000 and 100,000 other people. Let’s split the difference and call it 80,000. The Jewish population of England and Wales at the last census was 271,000. So, given that most of those marching were, unlike me, Jewish, then possibly a quarter of that number were present. Or, assuming (perhaps unfairly) that not many people travelled a long distance to attend, about half the Jews in London came. Which is a remarkable turnout.
Obviously I couldn’t check everyone’s ethnicity. Still, I consulted three friends, all Jewish, and they confirmed that, as far as they could tell, they reckoned most marchers belonged to the same faith as them.
It was a decent afternoon out. I met several friends, increased my step count and enjoyed some of the quirkier placards: “I Was Told There Would Be Bagels” was a favourite. Also: “More Hummus, Less Hamas”. As a veteran of many demonstrations who always thought chanting was both ludicrous and sinister, and therefore counterproductive, I was delighted by its absence. One dare-I-say caricature Jewish mother, in reference to my recent columns on dieting, came over and told me (accusingly), “You’ve lost too much weight!” The threat of chicken soup hung unspoken in the air.
Two things concerned me, however. The context for the first is that last week I attended a screening of the 43-minute film the Israeli authorities have compiled using raw footage shot during the Hamas massacre on October 7. I then described what I saw in an article in this paper. The reaction to that article has taken me aback. I don’t mean the handful of callous, blinkered zealots (some of whom, seriously, need to see a doctor, asap) who cast doubt on either the veracity of the video or the legitimacy of my all-too-human reaction to it. I mean taken aback by the extravagant gratitude I’ve received online from hundreds of people telling me how great I am simply for watching and then writing about that unspeakable racist horror show in southern Israel.
Shuffling along the Strand and Whitehall, this gratitude was redoubled in the flesh. I was stopped perhaps a dozen times by strangers to say, effusively, thank you. A couple of marchers offered heartfelt hugs, both in recognition of my article and my attendance. I began to feel embarrassed.
Now, don’t get me wrong, this attention was very welcome, flattering, a lovely boost for the not-inconsiderable Crampton ego. And yet it made me think: Britain’s Jews must be feeling pretty lonely to be so chuffed that a non-Jew has merely a) reminded a wider audience of the savagery of October 7 and b) turned up to show solidarity with his friends and fellow citizens. Neither of these actions (truthful reporting, opposing antisemitism) do I regard as morally complex, controversial or courageous. They certainly should not be.
My second worry was: where was the left? I speak as someone whose relatives not only participated in the Battle of Cable Street in 1936, but as trade unionists and members of the Communist Party of Great Britain, helped to organise the resistance to Oswald Mosley’s fascists marching through the Jewish East End. Yet on Sunday I didn’t see any union or Labour banners. And while I’m sure some attended, I did not see any prominent shadow cabinet members among the throng of celebrities and Conservative ministers present. The theme of the march was one with which any reasonable person can easily agree. The failure of the left to front up was humiliating, mystifying and spectacularly ill-judged.
