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Minna Rosner essay contest winner Rosemund Ragetli

Rosemund Ragetli

Each year the Jewish Heritage Centre of Western Canada sponsors an essay contest named for the late Shoah survivor Mina Rosner. Mina Rosner dedicated many hours to educating people about the Shoah as well as the importance of combating racism and discrimination and upholding human rights.

Students in grades 9-12 are annually invited to submit essays on the subject of the Shoah and/or human rights. The winner of the Mina Ronser Human Rights Award receives a monetary prize.
The winner this year is Rosemund Ragetli, who graduated this past June from Westwood Collegiate.
Interestingly, the previous year’s winner, Blake Edwards, was also a student at Westwood Collegiate. Special mention, therefore, must be made of Westwood history teacher, Kelly Hiebert, who not only teaches students about the Shoah, in 2019 he took students to Europe. As part of that trip students visited Auschwitz. Both Blake and Rosemund were part of the group that went on that trip.

Following is Rosemund Ragetli’s essay:

The Silence of History
In the relative comfort of everyday life, it is often difficult to relate our everyday lives with the atrocities of the Holocaust. It is imperative, however, that youth learn and connect with this history, understanding the responsibility each individual has to defend the rights of others. While the ability to seamlessly define the term ‘Holocaust’, or list the names and dates of major battles is an important aspect in forming a contextually accurate historiographic understanding, it is crucial the study of history be expanded; encompassing the significance of each individual life and the constant extrapolation of what may be learned from the past. During grade eleven, I travelled to Europe on a school trip focused on the Holocaust. My experiences in Warsaw, Auschwitz, Lidice, and Berlin forever changed my interpretation of history, bringing to life the magnitude and depth of this atrocity. My abstract and theoretical knowledge, based solely in classroom learning, became connected to the individual stories of those who once stood where I stood, bringing to life the reality of war and sacrifice in a new and extremely powerful manner.

As I walked through the Museum of the Polish Jews in Warsaw, I became transfixed by the complexity of the narrative. Spanning a thousand years, the connection between the Polish empire and the Jewish community was incredible. Throughout the eighteenth, nineteenth, and twentieth centuries, the Jewish population served an integral role within the development of Poland’s economy and social structure1 Jolanta Ambrosewicz-Jacobs and Leszek Hoñdo, eds., Why Should We Teach About the Holocaust?, trans. Michael Jacobs, vol. 2 (Cracow: The Jagiellonian University Institute of European Studies, 2005), ) pg. 17, a reality mirrored in many European nations. However, less than ten percent of these Polish Jews survived the Second World War2 Ibid. pg. 19 . Openly stated in the minutes of the Wannsee Conference, held in Berlin, January 1942, “The aim of all of this was to cleanse German living space of Jews in a legal manner”3 Jon E Lewis , ed., Voices From The Holocaust (London: Robinson, 2012) pg. 125. Within the book, Voices of the Holocaust, Filip Muller, a Sonderkommando from Auschwitz, describes the moment he came to understand this gruesome truth, “The damp stench of dead bodies and a cloud of stifling, biting smoke surged out towards us. Through the fumes I saw the vague outline of huge ovens. We were in the cremation room of the Auschwitz crematorium.”4 Ibid pg. 133

These chilling words rang in my ears as I stood in the Auschwitz barracks, filled with thousands of shoes, the glass case with baby clothing; they echoed on the walls as I stepped inside the crematorium with rows of ovens standing cold and silent. The people who died were no longer a statistic in a textbook, but individual people with lives, families, and dreams, some too young even to speak. As I walked the grounds of Auschwitz, I imagined myself stepping off the train and onto the platform. Our tour guide stopped in front of a blank brick wall, the spot where the camp orchestra played. As a violinist myself, I imagined that this may have been my task; to play for the other prisoners, perhaps my own family as they walked to their deaths. I stood in the silence of the Auschwitz tower, overlooking miles of barracks, alone with these painfully unavoidable thoughts, and I felt the overwhelming reality of suffering and loss.

Prior to our trip, we learned the history of Operation Anthropoid5 Branik Ceslav and Carmelo Lisciotto , “The Massacre at Lidice,” The Massacre at Lidice “The German Occupation of Europe” http://www.HolocaustResearchProject.org (Holocaust Education & Archive Research Team, 2008), ), and the devastating story of the Lidice massacre. In 1942, a group of Czech resistance fighters, working with the exiled Polish government in Britain, successfully assassinated Reinhard Heydrich, a high ranking Nazi official. In retaliation for this act, the German forces destroyed the neighbouring village of Lidice, systematically killing one hundred and seventy-two men, sending the women to Ravensbrück concentration camp, and all but nine children to Chelmno extermination camp6 Meilan Solly, “The Lost Children of the Lidice Massacre,” Smithsonian.com, September 12, 2018, accessed June 23, 2020, https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/story-lidice-massacre-180970242/). Flattened to ruins, the Nazis proudly proclaimed that “the village of Lidice, its residents, and its very name, were now forever blotted from memory”7 Branik Ceslav and Carmelo Lisciotto , “The Massacre at Lidice,” The Massacre at Lidice “The German Occupation of Europe” http://www.HolocaustResearchProject.org (Holocaust Education & Archive Research Team, 2008), ).

Following the publication of this event, the international community was outraged. A member of the British Parliament founded the “Lidice Shall Live”8 Meilan Solly, “The Lost Children of the Lidice Massacre,” Smithsonian.com, September 12, 2018, accessed June 23, 2020, https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/story-lidice-massacre-180970242/) campaign, immortalizing the tragedy within the media and on the global stage. This reaction was starkly juxtaposed by the notably restrained response from the Allies regarding the Final Solution. As a politically charged point of contention9 Ibid, the international community was wary to portray the Holocaust as a driving factor in the war, while the Lidice Massacre provided a “neutral and indisputably despicable example” of Nazi cruelty. In truth, nothing could prepare me, or anyone else for our visit to the Lidice memorial. I stepped out of the bus, overlooking a beautiful field, with a stream running through it, and a nearby forest. It was impossible to reconcile these two realities. As we walked through the grass, I could not comprehend how little there was left of the town; the foundation of a church, and a plaque where a house once stood. We stopped in front of the statues of eighty-two children who were murdered10 Ibid, and I struggled to quantify such atrocities. A village, a people and a way of life gone without the smallest trace.

Upon our arrival in Berlin the following day, we embarked on a walking tour of the city, visiting several Holocaust memorials. In particular, the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe was a unique and deeply poignant monument, one which significantly impacted my understanding of the Holocaust. Spanning more than 19,000 square metres, 2711 concrete slabs stand, ranging in height from eight inches to over sixteen feet11 Sam Merrill and Leo Schmidt, eds., A Reader in Uncomfortable Heritage and Dark Tourism, Brandenburg University of Technology, 2010,, accessed June 26, 2020, ) pg. 127. These coffin-like structures silently stretch into a concrete graveyard, commemorating the millions of nameless Jews who died in the Holocaust. As I walked between the rows of concrete pillars, I lost track of time, feeling lost and singularly insignificant. Designed for one person to walk in solitude12 Ibid., pg. 135, I found myself alone between concrete coffins that stretched far above my head. I glanced up at the slits of sky visible and found myself contemplating the enormity of the Holocaust in a way I had not previously. This, I believe, was the purpose of the memorial; the realization that within the confines of such a immense structure, one person is rendered insignificant, just as an individual life may be forgotten among the millions of lives lost. The unchanging constancy of this monument was extremely thought provoking, connecting the colossal magnitude of the Holocaust to a deeply personal and unique experience.

The trip significantly impacted my interpretation of history, in a way I could never have anticipated. By stepping into the events of the past; walking the grounds of Auschwitz and Lidice, standing before the incredible monuments for the Holocaust, I gained a deeper and more personal understanding for the importance of history within my own life. The information I had learned in class was suddenly part of something much larger, the realization that while history is, of course, the study of past events, the true value lies in its application to the present and most importantly, the future. After returning home, I worked to fulfill this mission, studying history with a new appreciation, I joined the Westwood Historical Society in order to connect the atrocities of the Holocaust to the youth of my own generation.

As I toured the Museum of the Polish Jews, walked the grounds of Auschwitz, and stood before the Holocaust memorials in Lidice and Berlin, my interpretation of history changed forever. I understood that it is our mission, as youth, to not only learn history, but to connect and apply it to the future. A theoretical knowledge of the Holocaust must be linked to a personal understanding of its magnitude, with each individual life holding meaning beyond a statistical value. Within the ease of everyday life, this is an undeniably difficult reality to comprehend, but one that must be understood. We as a generation have a responsibility to remember these events, learning from the atrocities of the Holocaust before they fade into the anonymity and silence of history.
Bibliography:

Ambrosewicz-Jacobs, Jolanta, and Leszek Hoñdo, eds. Why Should We Teach About the Holocaust? Translated by Michael Jacobs. 2. Vol. 2. Cracow: The Jagiellonian University Institute of European Studies, 2005. .

Blicq, Andy. “Return to Buchach.” Vimeo. CBC, 2011. .

Ceslav , Branik, and Carmelo Lisciotto . “The Massacre at Lidice.” The Massacre at Lidice “The German Occupation of Europe” http://www.HolocaustResearchProject.org. Holocaust Education & Archive Research Team, 2008. .

Lewis , Jon E, ed. Voices From The Holocaust. London: Robinson, 2012.

Merrill, Sam, and Leo Schmidt, eds. A Reader in Uncomfortable Heritage and Dark Tourism. Brandenburg University of Technology. 2010. Accessed June 26, 2020. .

Rosner, Mina. I Am a Witness . Winnipeg, Manitoba: Hyperion Press, 1990. .

Solly, Meilan. “The Lost Children of the Lidice Massacre.” Smithsonian.com. September 12, 2018. Accessed June 23, 2020. .

Kossak-Szczucka, Zofia. “‘Protest!” of the Underground Front for the Rebirth of Poland 1942.” Source texts Poles and the Holocaust. Accessed June 8, 2020. .

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Embracing your femininity in Cheshvan

By ELENA KNIGHT Rosh Chodesh Sameach! Though last month’s article (Embracing your femininity in Tishrei) had far more holidays, thus more material, the month of Cheshvan is not as empty as it appears. It may contain no holidays or mitzvot specific to the month, but I take issue with the idea that Cheshvan is “bitter”.
Some people refer to this month as MarCheshvan, Mar meaning bitter, but Mar can also refer to a drop of water; this month is the beginning of Israel’s rainy season! We began praying for rain with Shemini Atzeret last month, so by this time, G-d has usually heard Am Yisrael and started sending rain to the Holy Land. To connect this to womanhood, let’s revisit last month’s article, where I explained the connection of water to femininity.
In Tishrei, I spoke of the divine feminine, and how rain is associated with the womb of creation, fertility, and gentle, life-renewing power. In Cheshvan, however, I’d like to focus more on feminist reclamation of water metaphors; in Margaret Atwood’s The Penelopiad , for example, when trying to protect herself from unwanted suitors, Penelope recalls her mother’s advice: “Behave like water… Don’t try to oppose them. When they try to grasp you, slip through their fingers. Flow around them.” We can take this literary advice and put it into practice in our lives this month. When in a position where we feel powerless, and in spaces where female assertion is unwelcome, we could do well to be like water. Nobody can hold water in the palms of their hands without losing control of it. Water is not easy to contain. Nor are we women.
Taking Mar of MarCheshvan to mean a drop of water, rather than bitterness, can be interpreted now as a call to action. This month can be the time when we refuse to be controlled, much like the prophetess Miriam. In Torah, Miriam’s connection with water is clear; in Exodus 15, she takes the Israelite women out from the community to sing a song of deliverance through the Red Sea. She is with her brother, our Patriarch, Moses, when he is sent down the Nile in a reed basket, and she is the one who ensures he is cared for at the Pharaoh’s palace in Exodus 4. In many Pesach seders, a cup of water is set out for Miriam, like the wine for Elijah, because she ensured that the Israelites had water while travelling through the wilderness during the Exodus journey.
Miriam is, clearly, a passionate leader, creating a specific space for Israelite women when they are so often overlooked in Torah stories. By establishing her place as a role model for the Israelites leading up to their freedom from Egypt, the Torah makes it clear that G-d accepts female leadership. This month, let us take a page from Miriam’s book, and lead when we are called to do so. Like I suggested in my last article, mentoring a young girl in your community may be the perfect way to lead.
Cheshvan is also said to be reserved for the time of Moshiach. To prepare for the Moshiach’s arrival, we can act in ways that will bring about Israel’s reformation, both in the land itself and in the diaspora. By supporting charities both in our home communities and in Israel, by acting with chesed, loving-kindness, even when we don’t really feel like it, and by studying–whether that be studying Torah, feminist theory, or any other subject that will improve the world–with fervent passion. By working on tikkun olam, repairing the world, as we have it now, we can bring about a better world for future generations. What better way to remove the bitter reputation of Cheshvan?

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CFTC Crypto Regulation Plans Put XRP and Solana in Focus as CLARITY Act Stalls

moon.com

US crypto regulation is back in focus after the Commodity Futures Trading Commission opened a public consultation on October 5 on a potential framework for certain retail crypto transactions. With the CLARITY Act stalled in the Senate, the initiative raises questions about what the agency can achieve under existing law and why its plans matter for XRP and Solana.

For XRP and Solana, the development is particularly notable because US regulators have already identified both assets as examples of digital commodities. The emerging question is therefore not simply what happens to the CLARITY Act, but how far the CFTC can reshape the regulatory environment while the legislation remains stalled.

XRP and Solana price movements in focus

The XRP price and Solana price provide useful context for assessing market movements; comparing both assets over the same period helps distinguish their individual performance from broader changes across crypto markets.

XRP price movements and Solana price movements need to be assessed over a clearly defined period. An intraday range describes the distance between the session’s highest and lowest recorded prices; it does not establish which direction an asset will move next. A daily percentage change provides a different measure, comparing the latest price with a reference point.

Crypto market volatility can reflect changes in liquidity, interest rate expectations, network developments and broader risk appetite. The CFTC consultation adds regulatory context, but the announcement alone does not establish the cause of a particular price movement.

Why crypto regulation is shifting towards the CFTC

The Senate did not reach the 60-vote threshold required to advance the CLARITY Act in September. The result prevented the broader market-structure bill from moving ahead at that stage, but it did not end the push for clearer federal crypto rules.

The CFTC has now begun exploring another route. In its notice covering Regulation Crypto Asset Transactions and Regulation Crypto Asset Markets, the agency is seeking public input on a framework for certain retail crypto transactions and the platforms offering them.

The distinction matters. The CLARITY Act would have established a statutory framework passed by Congress. The CFTC initiative instead relies on powers the agency says it already has under the Commodity Exchange Act.

That means agency action can proceed while the legislation remains unresolved, although it cannot replicate every part of the congressional proposal.

What the proposed CFTC crypto rules could cover

The process centres on two concepts known as Regulation CTX and Regulation CAM. Regulation CTX concerns retail commodity transactions involving crypto assets, including transactions financed through margin, leverage or other forms of credit.

Regulation CAM would examine a specialised category of CFTC-registered market designed for those transactions. The aim is to create a federal regulatory option with requirements more closely tailored to crypto markets.

The framework could address areas such as market manipulation, customer assets, conflicts of interest and market conduct. The agency is also considering what information platforms should provide and how existing market safeguards can be adapted to crypto.

There is an important limit. The CFTC cannot require all spot crypto exchanges to enter that federal regime without action from Congress. Its chairman has described the proposal as an option for firms rather than a nationwide mandate.

That difference helps explain why the CLARITY Act still matters even as regulators move independently.

Why XRP and Solana matter in the regulatory debate

The CFTC consultation brings renewed attention to how the existing federal crypto asset taxonomy relates to XRP and Solana.

In his October 5 remarks, CFTC Chairman Michael Selig pointed to the joint federal crypto asset taxonomy, which identifies Bitcoin, Ether, Solana, Stellar, Tezos and XRP among examples of digital commodities.

For XRP and Solana, that classification helps explain why a CFTC-led framework deserves attention. Both assets operate on widely used blockchain networks and have a presence across global crypto markets, so changes affecting how US platforms can offer crypto products could influence market access, liquidity and institutional participation.

It does not mean the new rules would determine their prices. Interest rates, network activity, broader risk appetite and asset-specific developments remain important. Regulation is one part of the market environment, not a standalone price signal.

How crypto wagers relate to market movements

Crypto wagers based on market movements involve a bet on a specified outcome over a defined period. The relevant details include the asset, the condition that must be met, the closing time and the price source used to determine the result. Those terms matter because an asset can move in different directions within the same day.

Short-term price direction is also the basis for crypto wagers on Moon, a crypto betting platform where outcomes are tied to market movements.

For crypto betting, the significance of volatility depends on the wager’s conditions, including whether settlement uses a closing price or an event occurring during the specified period. A rise earlier in the day does not establish the outcome of a later wager, and a regulatory announcement does not guarantee a winning bet. An unsuccessful wager can result in the loss of the amount staked.

The connection between crypto wagers and market news therefore depends on the specific outcome and timeframe. News about XRP or Solana can provide context, while the terms of each wager determine how its result is settled.

How agency action differs from the CLARITY Act

The distinction between legislation and regulation is central to what happens next.

Congress can create new statutory powers and requirements that regulators cannot establish on their own. The CLARITY Act sought to define a broader market structure, including the responsibilities of federal agencies and obligations for intermediaries operating in digital asset markets.

The CFTC is working within authority it says already exists. That allows it to address some transaction structures and market protections but leaves wider questions for lawmakers.

The agency itself has acknowledged that regulatory action cannot indefinitely replace legislation. For markets, that creates a two-track process: regulators can develop rules under current law while Congress decides whether to revisit a broader statutory framework.

That makes the latest CFTC action more than a reaction to the failed Senate vote. It is also an indication of how US crypto policy could develop if Congress remains unable to reach agreement.

What US crypto regulation could mean for Canadian markets

The proposed CFTC framework would apply in the United States, not Canada. Its potential relevance for Canadian markets comes through cross-border capital flows, global liquidity and the role US platforms and institutions play in price discovery.

Canada also has established investment products linked directly to both assets. The Toronto Stock Exchange listed several Solana ETFs in April 2025, including the 3iQ Solana Staking ETF, giving Canadian investors regulated market exposure to SOL.

XRP followed with Canadian-listed products in June 2025, including the 3iQ XRP ETF.

That means regulatory developments affecting XRP and Solana in the United States can have relevance even when Canadian rules themselves do not change. Shifts in institutional participation, exchange access or global liquidity can still be reflected in assets and funds available in Canada.

Currency remains another consideration. Crypto assets are commonly quoted globally in US dollars, while Canadian investors may measure performance in Canadian dollars. Exchange-rate movements can therefore strengthen or reduce the local effect of a move in the underlying asset.

What comes next for the CFTC consultation and CLARITY Act

The CFTC consultation is now underway. The agency is seeking written comments on the Regulation CTX and Regulation CAM framework before deciding how subsequent rulemaking should proceed.

Congress could also return to the CLARITY Act or another version of market-structure legislation. The Senate result stopped the bill from advancing at that point, rather than resolving the broader regulatory debate.

For XRP and Solana, the most important signal is therefore no longer a single Senate vote. Attention has moved to whether the CFTC can turn its proposals into workable federal rules, how crypto platforms respond and whether lawmakers eventually establish a broader framework.

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An Overview of Antisemitism in Western Europe

By HENRY SREBRNIK The European Union Agency for Fundamental Rights survey of 2024 found that 96 per cent of Jewish respondents had encountered antisemitism online or offline in the 12 months before the survey, and that 76 per cent avoided wearing or displaying items that would make them recognizable as Jewish in public.

Antisemitism in Austria remained at alarmingly high levels last year, reaching its highest point since records began. The Antisemitism Reporting Center of the Israelitische Kultusgemeinde Wien (IKG), the official body tracking antisemitic incidents against Austria’s Jewish community, released its annual report in April documenting 1,532 cases in 2025.

Last November, protesters rallied in Vienna against an event dedicated to Franz Dinghofer, an Austrian politician who was a self-confessed antisemite and a Nazi party member. They were protesting an event called the Dinghofer Symposium that they say is antisemitic. The far-right Freedom Party of Austria (FPO) members countered that they remember Dinghofer as a statesman in the period between World War I and World War II.

In Belgium, Jewish communities are described as tight-knit but insecure, and constantly aware that their citizenship and prosperity don’t guarantee their acceptance or safety. Too often, writes Brandeis University historian Flora Cassen, who grew up in the country, “governments and the media treat attacks on their Jewish communities as a front in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, not as an attack on their own citizens.” In March, there was a car burning in the Jewish quarter of Antwerp. As well, a synagogue in Liège was damaged by an explosion in what the country’s interior minister called “an antisemitic act.”

In France, antisemitic violence has intensified while the experience of protection has weakened. Jewish students face harassment framed and justified as political expression. Synagogues operate behind security. Wearing a kippah can require calculation. These are no longer marginal experiences; they have become familiar features of Jewish life in places that once felt self-evidently safe. Since 2000, between 80,000 and 100,000 Jews have fled France — more than 20 per cent of the community.

More troubling still is the ideological shift. Antisemitism is increasingly reframed as political critique, social protest, or resistance to power. Jews are often excluded from the moral category of vulnerable minorities. The very frameworks designed to protect them can struggle to recognise them as victims.

A staggering number of antisemitic incidents has now become normal in France — 1,320 in 2025 is nearly double the already extreme 851 in 2014. But what’s more interesting is the shift in social permission to openly hate Jews.

The far-left La France Insoumise (LFI) Party in France has been accused by academics and ministers of antisemitism after their de facto leader, Jean-Luc Mélenchon, refused to call Hamas a terrorist organization and party members marched with Islamist-linked NGOs during Gaza protests. The LFI’s popularity has been on the rise in polling ahead of next year’s presidential election, according to the French newspaper Le Monde. Ninety-two per cent of French Jews believe that the LFI contributes to antisemitism in France. 

Mélenchon took advantage of nationwide student protests in early October. To advance his political prospects, his strategy appears to be to capitalize on the discontent currently roiling the country. Mélenchon has also accused authorities of repression with a racist undertone, since many of the protesters are Muslim. No surprise, then, that Palestinian flags have appeared at the protests.

Although Mélenchon was known in the 1990s as a hardcore secularist, by 2020 he had allied himself with Houria Bouteldja, co-founder of the “decolonial” (anti-West) Parti des Indigènes de la République (PIR). Under Bouteldja’s influence, Mélenchon began to utter questionable remarks on the Jews. The way Mélenchon uses the idea of uniting against one enemy by speaking of Israel “is similar to the way Hitler used to speak about the Jews,” according to Israeli Ambassador to France Joshua Zarka. So it’s no surprise that French president Emmanuel Macron, getting more and more unpopular, recognized a Palestinian state in 2025.

Germany has cracked down on speech and demonstrations that assert support for Palestinians and accuse Israel of atrocities, part of a national policy toward antisemitism, defined over decades in the shadow of the Holocaust and sharpened recently under the helm of Felix Klein, the first federal commissioner for combating antisemitism. Many Jews say they feel safer under such bans. The Central Council of Jews in Germany recommended Klein for his appointment as antisemitism czar. Some human rights groups have objected, however, saying the bans limit free speech and criminalize legitimate expressions of support for the Palestinian cause.

Disputes over Israel recently erupted at the Buchenwald concentration camp memorial, as both Israel’s critics and its defenders claim the Holocaust for their terrain. The anti-Zionist group Kufiyas in Buchenwald announced a demonstration there on April 11, the anniversary of its liberation, in protest against a German court’s decision that the site could refuse entry to visitors who wear a Palestinian keffiyeh. The court said that wearing a keffiyeh to send a political message “would endanger the sense of security of many Jews, especially at this site.” The Buchenwald protest was condemned by the European Jewish Congress, and Klein said it marked a “new low point in the unfortunately all-too-common reversal of perpetrator and victim roles.”

In an election held Sept. 20 in Berlin, the left-wing Die Linke came in first, winning 25.7 per cent, more than doubling its 2023 share. Israel’s ambassador, Ron Prosor, described antisemitism within Die Linke as systemic. Philipp Peyman Engel, editor in chief of the Jüdische Allgemeine, the newspaper of the Central Council of Jews in Germany, wrote that party was “riddled with people who hate Jews and Israel.”

Italy in April announced that it was declining to renew a longstanding defence agreement with Israel, a sharp reversal for Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni’s right-wing government. Opposition parties had put pressure on the government for over a year to suspend the renewal. Marco Grimaldi, an opposition lawmaker, said the decision was “a victory” for those who had protested Israel’s military offensive in Gaza over the last three years.

On Oct. 3, 2025, there was a nationwide general strike, which the labour union leaders officially called “to support the residents of Gaza and a humanitarian aid mission.” While mass anti-Israel rallies gripped other parts of Europe, Italy’s were the most numerous.

Recent Italian demonstrations of “solidarity” with Palestine saw protesters carry Palestinian flags, flags of Italian labour unions, and red flags with hammers and sickles. Some of the banners had the words, in Italian, “yesterday partisans, today anti-Zionists and anti-Fascists,” and declared support for “Palestinian resistance.”

Dutch Jews have long been used to seeing security and armed police in front of their schools, synagogues and gatherings. Since a school and a synagogue were attacked over two days in March, an unsettling feeling has spread among Jews in the Netherlands. Assailants struck Jewish buildings — a religious school in Amsterdam, where most Dutch Jews live, and a synagogue in Rotterdam. Mayor Femke Halsema of Amsterdam called the blast at the school a “targeted attack against the Jewish community.”

Before the Holocaust, the Netherlands had a robust Jewish population. The Nazis deported 75 per cent of Dutch Jews to death camps, the highest such rate in Nazi-occupied western European nations. Today, the Jewish population of the Netherlands is estimated at about 35,000 people, just 0.2 per cent of the country’s 18 million residents. 

“I am mostly angry,” declared Menno ten Brink, a rabbi at the Liberal Jewish Community in Amsterdam. The explosions have had a big impact on Dutch Jews and the wider society, added Eddo Verdoner, the Dutch national coordinator for combating antisemitism. Antisemitism has been increasing over the last decade or so, he said, with an “exponential increase” since October 2023.

Relations between Israel and Norway have plummeted to historic lows, with Oslo becoming one of the Palestinians’ staunchest supporters in Europe. Norway became the first European country to announce that it would arrest Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu and former Defence Minister Yoav Gallant following the International Criminal Court’s issuance of warrants against them, and it then joined South Africa in its International Court of Justice case against Israel.

“I find it shameful that we have one of the most anti-Israel governments in Europe,” MP Himanshu Gulati, chairman of the Israel Allies Caucus in the Norwegian Parliament, has remarked. Not surprisingly, the Norwegian government has recognized. a Palestinian state.

In May, Norway’s higher education minister indicated that she did not intend to punish a university professor who praised Hamas’s Oct. 7 massacres in Israel because he had “the same freedom of expression as everyone else.” Sigrun Aasland was referring to Bassam Hussein, a professor at the Norwegian University of Science and Technology (NTNU), who on April 21, during a lecture before the Socialist Forum in Trondheim, said that the Oct. 7 massacres were “the most beautiful thing that has happened in our century.”

Norway’s Foreign Ministry put out a bill this fall before its parliament that would send Norwegian citizens and companies to prison for buying from, selling to, building for or investing in businesses owned by Jews who live in the West Bank. Negligent violators get six months.

In Portugal anti-Israel sentiment punctuates the actions of the political press. The most significant antisemitic events that occurred in recent years included demonstrations for better housing that targeted local Jews whose personal names were published in newspapers, bomb threats against the country’s largest synagogue and the Holocaust museum, which was called a “brothel that teaches the lie of the 6 million,” and hate messages written on the facades of Jewish homes to identify “Zionist pigs.”

Following October 7, 2023, antisemitic and antizionist incidents surfaced more visibly in public spaces and academic institutions. High-profile incidents include verbal electoral harassment against Jewish community figures like writer Esther Mucznik, acts of vandalism directed at the Lisbon Synagogue, and hostile propaganda targeting Jewish and Israeli students at the University of Coimbra

The far-left Sumar Party in Spain is part of socialist Prime Minister Pedro Sanchez’s ruling coalition. Their support has been strongest in areas with high Muslim populations, with party members attending demonstrations with Muslim Brotherhood-adjacent groups and Gaza protests organized by Islamist-leaning networks. Members also pushed for Spain to recognize a Palestinian state, which it did in 2024, while also referring to Israel as an “apartheid state.” 

The political left spread a narrative across social media asserting that the recent migrant invasion by Moroccans of Spain’s Ceuta enclave is part of a vast American-Israeli conspiracy to destroy the country. Spain’s Transportation Minister supported the theory on social media while Gabriel Rufian, a spokesperson from the Spanish Congress, asserted that the U.S. and Israel were flooding Europe with migrants to “blackmail” the country.

In Sweden, debates about antisemitism loomed large throughout the recent election season, despite the country’s small population of Jews, who number about 20,000 in a country of more than 10 million people. Politicians on all sides repeatedly sought to position themselves as the best defenders against antisemitism.

Aron Verständig, who chairs the Official Council of Swedish Jewish Communities, said that while he appreciated gestures of solidarity with the Jewish community, he worried that politicians hurling accusations of antisemitism against each other could reduce Jews to a weapon of political debate. “Of course, it’s good that our situation is discussed and people are interested in what happens to the Jews here in Sweden — but on the other hand, there’s a risk that we are becoming a tool.”

Simona Mohamsson, Sweden’s minister for education and integration, who is of Palestinian and Lebanese descent, wore a Star of David during a televised debate. A member of the center-right Liberals, she wore the symbol “for the children who do not dare to in today’s Sweden.” She criticized members of the Left Party for “flirting with extremists.” 

Since 2023, the war in the Middle East has been a defining trigger for antisemitic incidents in Switzerland. For the Jewish community, this has been a constant strain for more than three years. 

Pro-Palestine activists are very active at Swiss universities. There have been anti-Israel demonstrations, some of which were associated with calls for violence and antisemitic slogans. The one in Bern in October 2025 stands out in particular because there was a massive outbreak of violence. In the larger cities of Switzerland, offensive graffiti relating to the conflict in the Middle East is omnipresent. 

Here and there we see small improvements on the continent, but not enough to turn things around. The ancestral Jewish knowledge that safety can collapse with terrifying speed, even in civilised societies, begins to return.

Henry Srebrnik is a professor emeritus of political science at the University of Prince Edward Island.

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