Features
“Reckonings” – riveting documentary film explains how the agreement to offer reparations to Holocaust victims came about
By BERNIE BELLAN Since 1952 the German government has paid more than $562 billion in compensation for crimes committed during the Holocaust, of which $472 billion has been paid to the State of Israel (in goods and services) and $90 billion in cash to individual Holocaust survivors.
How the German government came to agree to compensate victims of the Holocaust is a fascinating story – and one that is the subject of a spellbinding documentary film called “Reckonings.”
On Sunday afternoon, November 12 over 150 people gathered in the auditorium of Westwood Collegiate in St. James to view “Reckonings” and to participate in a discussion that followed the film led by Jewish Heritage of Western Canada Executive Director Belle Jarniewski and Jewish Child and Family Service Holocaust Support Services Worker Adeena Lungen.
The event was timed to coincide with the 85th anniversary of Kristallnacht – “the night of broken glass,” which took place Nov. 9-10, throughout Germany, when over 7,000 Jewish businesses were damaged or destroyed, 30,000 Jewish men were arrested and incarcerated in concentration camps, and at least 100 Jews killed.
“Reckonings,” released in 2022, was directed by award-winning documentary filmmaker Roberta Grossman. In a style first pioneered by documentary filmmaker Ken Burns, Grossman uses historical footage, occasional reenactments, interviews with various individuals who appear from time to time throughout the film – but never for more than a couple of minutes at one time, and music composed to fit the moment, all in a fast-cutting mode that maintains your attention throughout the 74 minutes of the film.
The crux of the story is how the West German government, led by Chancellor Konrad Adenauer, decided to take full responsibility for the crimes of the Holocaust, and offer reparations to Holocaust victims.
If there is any one hero in this film, it is Adenauer. As the film explains, he was a former mayor of Cologne whose family was fiercely anti-Nazi. As well, Adenauer was a devout Catholic – something that played a significant role in his wanting to come to terms with German guilt and atone for the collective sins of the German people.
On the Jewish side, the key figure working with Adenauer – and negotiating on behalf of Holocaust victims was Nahum Goldmann, who co-founded the World Jewish Congress in 1936 with Rabbi Stephen Wise.
Goldmann had been stripped of his German citizenship by the racist German Nuremberg laws (and although the film doesn’t explain it, he found refuge in Honduras.) Yet, the fact he was German-born and was able to develop a warm relationship with Adenauer proved key to the eventual creation of what came to be known as the “The Conference on Jewish Material Claims Against Germany.”
The film unravels the many complexities that were involved in negotiating what turned out to be an agreement of monumental consequence, especially bringing together Jewish and German negotiators across from one another.
In the opening moments of “Reckonings,” co-producer Karen Heilig observes, “You can just imagine what it was like for Jewish representatives to sit down with German representatives only seven years after World War II…It was like negotiating with the devil.”
As the film explains, Israelis themselves were largely opposed to negotiating reparations with the German government. As Heilig observes, “They didn’t want German money.”
Similarly, most of the German population was also opposed to the idea of reparations. “Only 11% of the German population supported compensation” for Jews, according to the film.
In a very interesting insight into the psyche of the German population following the war, it is also noted that, when it came to who the German people thought were most victimized by the war, “Jews were last on the list.”
Amidst what was evidently still a deeply-rooted antisemitism within the German population – and strong opposition from within his own party (Christian Democrat), Adenauer remained adamant that Germany would negotiate reparations – both for individual victims of the Holocaust and for the recently formed State of Israel. (The Federal Republic of Germany itself only came into being in 1949.)
One of the crucial factors in Israel agreeing to negotiate reparations – after having been so solidly opposed, came toward the end of 1951, the film explains, as a result of the Israeli treasury almost being totally bare. The reason was the extraordinarily high cost that the Israeli government had incurred as a result of absorbing hundreds of thousands of refugees since the formation of the state – both Holocaust survivors and refugees from Arab countries.
Yet, despite the precarious state of Israel’s finances, there were still many who refused to countenance the notion of Israel accepting German reparations. In fact, at the time that negotiation began, in 1952, there was a boycott of German goods in Israel.
As the leader of Herut (also leader of the Opposition in the Knesset), Menachem Begin insisted, “reparations will lead to cleansing the guilt of the German people.”
However, notwithstanding the fierce opposition from among many Israelis to entering into negotiations with the German government, Israel’s government, led by David Ben Gurion, did announce that it was ready to discuss reparations, but it led off with a claim for $1 billion – the cost, it said, for absorbing 500,000 Holocaust survivors.
Adenauer agreed to negotiate with both the Israeli government and a representative organization of the Jewish people – but at the time there was no organization in place to do that.
Thus was created “The Conference on Jewish Material Claims Against Germany,” with Nachum Goldmann at its head. The other members of the negotiating team had clear goals in mind: What they were negotiating with the West German government was not about “morality,” it was about dollars and cents.
To that end, the negotiators wanted to break down compensation into two different categories: compensation for personal suffering and compensation for property lost to the Nazis.
The problem was: Who would claim compensation for property when everyone who might have owned particular properties had been annihilated?
I actually put that question to Adeena Lungen during the discussion that followed, since the film didn’t go into any detail as to how that circle could be squared. Adeena explained that survivors of Holocaust victims are often able to claim compensation for personal suffering, for which there is significant information available, but compensation for loss of property is often much more difficult to ascertain.
Agencies such as JCFS, which help survivors apply for compensation often rely upon archival information that “gives a wealth of information about property based on the recollections of others from a particular shtetl.” As Adeena further noted, “in Poland, wherever you lived there was a document that recorded where you lived” – and there is now an “online database” based upon those documents from where anyone can get detailed information about where individuals lived.
Before teams representing the three parties (West Germany, Israel, and the Conference on Jewish Material Claims Against Germany) for the coming negotiations met, however, Konrad Adenauer met with Nahum Goldmann in secret to determine certain basic points: Was West Germany actually ready to pay reparations and where would the negotiations take place?
The answers to those questions were: Yes, West Germany was ready to pay and two, the negotiations were to be held in a neutral county – in this case, The Netherlands.
Although Israel and the Claims Conference were to be separate parties to negotiations with West Germany, it was agreed that Israel and the Claims Conference would coordinate their strategies together.
Prior to the commencement of negotiations, however, the film explains, “German officials wanted to come to terms with the rest of the world, then Israel and the Claims Conference,” but Israel took the position that “No, you have to come to terms with us and the Claims Conference, then the rest of the world.”
With West Germany accepting that as a pre-condition to negotiations, the representatives met and, after a prolonged series of negotiations, West Germany did agree to provide $857 million in reparations, of which $750 million was to go to Israel (but not in cash, as the film explains; rather, it was in goods and services, including raw materials, industrial machinery, and ships for the Israeli navy), while the Claims Conference was to receive $107 million.
However, many individuals were excluded from the deal to receive compensation, including anyone living behind the Iron Curtain and people who had been in hiding during the war.
One of the key individuals during the negotiations with Germany was Ben Ferencz, who passed away this past April. Not only was Ferencz the sole surviving negotiator for the Claim Conference, as Belle Jarniewski also pointed out, Ferencz was the last surviving prosecutor from the famed Nuremberg trials of Nazi war criminals. Ferencz is featured quite prominently in “Reckonings,” as he was able to give a first-hand account of what the negotiations were like.
The final agreement worked out between West Germany and Israel, on the one hand, and West Germany and the Claims Conference, on the other, came to be known as the Luxembourg Agreement. It has served as the basis for all subsequent agreements to compensate Holocaust victims by the German government.
Of the $90 billion that has been paid out in reparations since 1953, over 270,000 Holocaust survivors were among the first recipients of the initial $107 million paid in 1953. Since then, an additional 500,000 individuals have received payments. And, although the Luxembourg agreement was only intended to provide compensation to survivors in 1953, ever since then there have been regular negotiations between the German government and the Claims Conference, which have resulted in varying amounts being negotiated each time.
Insofar as Holocaust survivors who moved to Winnipeg are concerned – of whom there have been over 1500 individuals over the years, Belle Jarniewski explained the process through which they receive compensation from the German government.
In 1948 something called the United Restitution Office was established to help Holocaust survivors. (The Canadian office was founded in 1952.) The purpose of the office was to help survivors with individual claims. Case files were established for survivors, including claims and documentation describing difficulties survivors have encountered during their lifetimes. In 2022 those files were transferred to the care of the Jewish Heritage Centre.
Adeena Lungen (about whose role at JCFS helping Holocaust survivors we described in some detail in an article in our December 20, 2021 issue, which can be downloaded on our website – simply go to jewishpostandnews.ca and, under the “Search Archive” tab at the top, and enter Dec. 20, 2021 to download the complete issue. The article about Adeena is on page 3.), explained that JCFS has been working with Holocaust survivors in Winnipeg since 2000. Adeena has been serving in her role as Holocaust support services worker for the past 20 years, she noted.
Adeena noted that, in addition to compensation available from the German government for Holocaust survivors, other countries have, in recent years, also begun to offer compensation in certain cases. (For instance, in our two most recent issues we posted an advertisement for compensation now being offered to Jews who were former residents of Lithuania.) Other countries offering compensation now include France, Austria, Poland and Romania, Adeena added.
When asked how a survivor could go about proving that they are actually a Holocaust survivor (and there have been numerous bogus attempts over the years by individuals falsely claiming to be Holocaust survivors), Adeena described the steps JCFS, for instance, will take to verify someone’s claim, noting however that, while JCFS will do an initial assessment of someone’s claim, the final determination rests with the Claims Conference.
According to Adeena, a claimant must submit documents, such as identity papers from the country of origin.
Currently there are still 200,000 Holocaust survivors worldwide, of whom 150,000 have been receiving distributions from the Claims Conference. Adeena noted that new files are still being opened for Holocaust survivors. (Apparently there are still Holocaust survivors who have been unaware that they are eligible to receive compensation.)
In 2022, for instance, the Claims Conference was able to distribute $562 million to 150,000 individual Holocaust survivors. An additional $750 million was distributed to social welfare agencies worldwide, including JCFS. If you would like more information about compensation for Holocaust survivors, contact Adeena Lungen at alungen@jcfswinnipeg.org.
Features
Why People in Israel Can Get Emotionally Attached to AI—and How to Keep It Healthy
Let’s start with the uncomfortable truth that’s also kind of relieving: getting emotionally attached to a Joi.com AI isn’t “weird.” It’s human. Our brains are attachment machines. Give us a voice that feels warm, consistent, and attentive—especially one that shows up on demand—and our nervous system goes, “Oh. Safety. Connection.” Even if the rational part of you knows it’s software, the emotional part responds to the experience.
Now, if we’re talking about Jewish people in Israel specifically, it’s worth saying this carefully: there isn’t one “Jewish Israeli psychology.” People differ wildly by age, religiosity, community, language, politics, relationship status, and life history. But there are some real-life conditions common in Israel—high tech adoption, a fast-paced social environment, chronic background stress for many, and strong cultural emphasis on connection—that can make AI companionship feel especially appealing for some individuals. Not because of religion or ethnicity as a trait, but because of context and pressure.
So if you’ve noticed yourself—or someone you know—getting attached to an AI companion, the goal isn’t to panic or label it as unhealthy by default. The goal is to understand why it feels good and make sure it stays supportive rather than consuming.
Why attachment happens so fast (the psychology in plain language)
Attachment isn’t just about romance. It’s about regulation. When you feel seen, your body calms down. When you feel ignored, your body gets edgy. AI companions can offer something that’s rare in real life: consistent responsiveness. No scheduling. No misunderstandings (most of the time). No “I’m too tired to talk.” Just a steady stream of attention.
From an attachment perspective, that steadiness can act like a soft emotional “hug.” For someone with anxious attachment, it can feel like relief: finally, a connection that doesn’t disappear. For someone with avoidant tendencies, it can feel safe because it’s intimacy without the risk of being overwhelmed by a real person’s needs. For someone simply lonely or stressed, it can feel like a quiet exhale.
And unlike human relationships, AI won’t judge your worst timing. You can message at 2:00 a.m., when your thoughts are loud and the apartment is silent, and you’ll still get an answer that sounds caring. That alone is powerful.
Why it can feel especially relevant in Israel (for some people)
Israel is a small country with a big emotional load for many people—again, not universally, but often enough that it shapes daily life. A lot of people live with a background hum of stress, whether it’s personal, economic, or tied to the broader environment. When life feels intense, the appeal of a stable, gentle interaction grows. Not because you’re fragile—because you’re tired.
Add a few more very normal realities:
High tech comfort is cultural. Israel has a strong tech culture. People are used to tools that solve problems quickly. If you’re already comfortable with digital solutions, trying an AI companion doesn’t feel like a strange leap.
Time is tight. Between work, family responsibilities, reserve duty for some, long commutes, or simply the pace of urban life, many people don’t have the energy for long, messy social processes. AI can feel like connection without the logistics.
Social circles can be both close and complicated. Israeli society can be community-oriented, which is beautiful—until it’s also intense. In tight-knit circles, dating and relationships sometimes come with social pressure, opinions, and “everyone knows everyone.” A private AI chat can feel like a relief: no gossip, no explanations, no performance.
Language and identity complexity. Many Jewish Israelis move between languages and cultures (Hebrew, Russian, English, French, Amharic, Arabic for some). AI chat can become a low-stakes space to express yourself in the language you feel most “you” in—without feeling judged for accent, vocabulary, or code-switching.
None of this means “Israelis are more likely” in any absolute sense. It means there are situational reasons why AI companionship can feel particularly soothing or convenient for some people living there.
The good side: when AI attachment is healthy
Emotional attachment isn’t automatically a problem. Sometimes it’s simply a sign that something is working: you feel supported. You feel calmer. You’re expressing yourself more. You’re practicing communication instead of shutting down. You’re less likely to make impulsive choices from loneliness.
Healthy use often looks like:
You feel better after chatting, not worse.
You can still enjoy your real life—friends, work, hobbies, family.
You don’t hide it in shame; you just treat it like a tool or pastime.
You use the AI to practice skills you bring into real relationships: clarity, boundaries, confidence, emotional regulation.
In that version, AI companionship is closer to journaling with feedback, or a comforting ritual—like a cup of tea at the end of the day, not a replacement for dinner.
Where it can slip into unhealthy territory (quietly)
The danger isn’t “having feelings.” The danger is outsourcing your emotional world to something that will never truly share responsibility.
Warning signs usually look like:
You cancel plans with humans because the AI feels easier.
You feel anxious when you’re not chatting, like you’re missing something.
You start needing the AI to reassure you constantly.
Your standards for human relationships collapse (“Humans are too complicated, AI is enough”).
You feel a “crash” after chatting—more lonely, more restless, more disconnected.
The biggest red flag is when the AI becomes your only reliable source of comfort. That’s not because AI is evil. It’s because any single source of emotional regulation—human or non-human—can become a dependency.
How to keep it healthy (without killing the fun)
Here’s the approach that works best: don’t ban it, contain it.
Give it a role.
Decide what the AI is for in your life: playful flirting, stress relief, practicing communication, roleplay, bedtime decompression. A defined role prevents the relationship from becoming vague and all-consuming.
Set a “time container.”
Not as punishment—just as hygiene. For example: 20 minutes at night, or during commute time, or only on certain days. Ending while you still feel good is the secret. Don’t chat until you feel hollow.
Keep one human anchor active.
A friend you text, a weekly family dinner, a class, a gym routine, a community event—something that keeps your real social muscles moving. In Israel, community can be a huge protective factor when it’s supportive. Use it.
Use consent and boundary language even with AI.
It sounds odd, but it trains your brain in healthy dynamics:
“Slow down. Keep it playful, not intense.”
“No jealousy talk. I don’t like that vibe.”
“Tonight I want comfort, not advice.”
If you can do that with an AI, you’ll be better at doing it with humans.
Watch the “replacement” impulse.
If you catch yourself thinking, “I don’t need anyone else,” pause and ask: is that empowerment—or is it avoidance? Sometimes it’s a protective story your brain tells when it’s tired of disappointment.
Check in with your body after.
Not your thoughts—your body. Calm? Lighter? More grounded? Good sign. Agitated? Empty? Restless? Time to adjust.
And if you’re noticing that AI use is feeding anxiety, sleep problems, isolation, or obsessive thinking, it may help to talk to a mental health professional—especially someone who understands attachment patterns. That’s not a dramatic step. It’s basic self-care.
People in Israel—Jewish Israelis included—can get attached to AI for the same reason people everywhere do: it offers consistent attention in an inconsistent world. Add the local realities of stress, pace, and social complexity, and it can feel even more comforting for some individuals. The healthiest path isn’t to judge yourself for it. It’s to use it intentionally, keep your human life active, and treat the AI as a supportive tool—not the center of your emotional universe.
Features
Three generations of Wernicks all chose to become rabbis
By GERRY POSNER Recently I was at a Shabbat service at Beth Tzedec Synagogue in Toronto and the day unfolded in some unexpected ways for me.
It began when I was asked to be a Gabbai for the service, that is to stand up at the table where the Torah is placed and to check the Torah reading to make sure there are no errors. I have done this before and it has always gone smoothly. I attribute that fact in large part to the Torah reading ability of the reader at Beth Synagogue. He is fast, fluent and flawless. Well, on this particular day after he had completed the first two portions, he began the shlishi or third aliyah. I could not find his reading anywhere. It was as if he had started somewhere fresh, but not where he was supposed to be. I looked at the other Gabbai and he did not seem to recognize what had happened either. So, I let it go. I had no idea where the Torah reader was. He then did another and still I was lost. He came to what was the 6th aliyah when a clergy member walked over to him and indicated to him that he had read the fourth and fifth aliyah, but that he had missed the third one. The Torah reader then said to me “this is what you are here for.” Now, it might have been one thing if I had missed it entirely. Alas, I saw the error, but let it go as I deferred to the Torah reader since he never makes a mistake. He ended up going back to do the third aliyah before continuing on. This was a very unusual event in the synagogue. I felt responsible in large part for this gaffe. A lesson learned.
The feeling of embarrassment was compounded by the fact that on this particular day the service was highlighted, at least for me, because of the rabbi delivering the sermon. This rabbi, Eugene Wernick, was none other than the father of my present rabbi, Steven Wernick of Beth Tzedec Synagogue. He was also the same rabbi who was the rabbi at Shaarey Zedek between 1979-1986 and who had officiated at my father’s funeral in 1981, also a few years later at my oldest son’s Bar Mitzvah in Winnipeg in 1984. As I listened to him speak, I was taken back to the 1980s, when Rabbi Gene was in the pulpit at Shaarey Zedek. Of course, he is older now than in his Shaarey Zedek days, but the power of his voice was unchanged. If anything, it’s even stronger. As in the past, his message was relevant to all of us and resonated well. Listening to him was a treat for me. Still, my regret in not calling out the mistake from the Torah reading was compounded by the fact that I messed up in front of my former rabbi, Eugene Wernick – never mind my present rabbi, Steven Werinck.
On this Shabbat morning, aside from all the other people present, there were not only the two Rabbis Wernick, but one Michelle Wernick was also there. Michelle, daughter of Rabbi Steven Wernick, is a first year student at the Jewish Theological Seminary. She is following in the family business – much like with the Rose rabbinical family in Winnipeg.
As it turned out, there was a Bat Mitzvah that day. And the Bat Mitzvah family had a very real Winnipeg connection as in the former Leah Potash, mother of the Bat Mitzvah girl, Emmie Bank and the daughter of Reuben and Gail Potash (Thau). It occurred to me that there might be a few Winnipeg people in the crowd. As I scanned the first few rows, I was not disappointed. Sitting there was none other than Chana Thau and her husband Michael Eleff. I managed to have a chat with Chana (even during the Musaf service). In the row right behind Chana and Michael was a face I had not seen in close to sixty years. I refer to Allan Berkal, the eldest son of the former rabbi and chazan at Shaarey Zedek, Louis Berkal. I still remember the first time I met Allan at Hebrew School in 1954 when his family moved to Winnipeg from Grand Forks, North Dakota. That was many maftirs ago. So this was another highlight moment for me.
Of course, there are other Winnipeggers who attend Beth Tzedec most Shabbats. I speak of Morley Goldberg and his wife, the former Marcia Billinkoff Schnoor. As well, Bernie Rubenstein and his wife, the former Sheila Levene were also present for this particular Shabbat. In all, this Shabbat had a particularly Winnipeg flavour to it. Truth be told, you do not have to go far in Toronto at any synagogue and the Winnipeg connections emerge.
Features
In Britain Too, Jews Are in Trouble
By HENRY SREBRNIK Antisemitic attacks in Britain have surged to levels unseen in decades, with Jewish schools under guard and synagogues routinely targeted. Jews suffered the highest rate of religious hate crimes in the year ending March 2025, according to interior ministry data. And it has only become worse.
Jewish Post and News readers know, of course, about the attack on Jewish worshippers at the Heaton Park Synagogue in Manchester at Yom Kippur services on October 2, 2025. The attack killed Adrian Daulby, 53, and Melvin Cravitz, 66, and left three others injured.
Greater Manchester Police Chief Sir Stephen Watson said fear within the Jewish community had risen sharply, with even young children asking for armed police protection to simply attend Hanukkah parties.
While the blame for the violence lies with the assailant, an immigrant from Syria, who was shot dead by police, the responsibility for the circumstances in which two Jews died and where a Jewish community that has contributed loyally to British society for centuries fears for its existence lies with the leaders of the British establishment.
The Labour government, many of whose supporters and elected representatives flirt with pro-Hamas positions, has fueled the flames with its denunciations of Israel’s war and recognition of a Palestinian state. Many younger people, their minds filled with postmodern “anticolonialist” left ideology, are eager recruits to the cause.
Ruth Deech is a British academic, bioethicist and politician who sits in the House of Lords. Ten years ago, she warned that some of the country’s top universities had become “no-go zones” for Jewish students. But, in the wake of the October 7 atrocities and ensuing war in Gaza, she believes the situation is much worse.
“The warfare on the streets is being continued in the universities,” Deech told the Times of Israel Dec. 25. “The universities on the whole are not facing up to it, and the University of London campuses are probably amongst the worst. None of the vice chancellors seem to be able to summon up the courage to deal with it,” Deech contends.
“They take refuge behind freedom of speech, without realizing that freedom of speech stops where hate language begins.” Deech is highly critical of Oxford, where she has spent much of her academic life. British universities must take stronger action to protect Jewish students and use every tool available to confront hate and division.
But the reaction by authorities has generally been one of appeasement. For years, police refused to enforce hate-crime laws. Universities tolerated mobs chanting for Israel’s destruction. Politicians equivocated in the name of “balance.”
For instance, in Birmingham, the West Midlands Police, which cover the city, classified as “high risk” a soccer match between Maccabi Tel Aviv and Aston Villa on Nov. 6. The police cited “safety” as the reason for banishing fans of the Tel Aviv team, which now seems to be standard when unjustified bans are put in place.
As the Jewish Leadership Council noted on X, “It is perverse that away fans should be banned from a football match because West Midlands Police can’t guarantee their safety.” Prior to the event, masked men hung “Zios Not Welcome” signs in the windows of shops or restaurants. “Zio,” of course, is a not-so-coded word for Israelis and/or Jews.
Over the past two years, the Board of Deputies of British Jews, the country’s main representative body for the Jewish community, has faced questions of their own about how to conduct debates on Israel. Last April, 36 of the board’s members signed an open letter, which was published in the Financial Times, protesting against “this most extremist of Israeli governments” and its failure to free the hostages held since October 7. “Israel’s soul is being ripped out and we fear for the future of the Israel we love,” the letter read.
Five members of the Board were suspended for instigating the letter. The Board’s Constitution Committee found that they had broken a code of conduct by creating the “misleading impression that this was an official document of the Board as a whole.” But for some, the letter represented a watershed moment where some of the conversations about Israel happening in private within the Jewish community could be had in public.
Board President Phil Rosenberg argued that there has long been healthy debate among the 300 deputies. His primary concern is the safety of British Jews but also how the community sees itself. “We have a whole range of activities to confront antisemitism,” he maintained. “But we also believe that the community needs not just to be seeing itself, and to be seen, through the prism of pain.
“It already wasn’t right that the only public commemoration of Jewish life in this country is Holocaust Memorial Day. And the only compulsory education is Holocaust education. Both of these things are incredibly important, but that’s not the whole experience of Jews.”
Given all this, a new political party divide is emerging among British Jews, with support rising fast for the left-wing Greens, now led by Zack Polanski, who is Jewish, and buoyed by younger and “anti-Zionist” Jews, while the older Orthodox turn to Nigel Farage’s upstart right wing Reform UK, as trust in the two main parties collapses.
Support for Labour and the Conservatives among British Jews had fallen to 58 per cent by July 2025 from nearly 84 per cent in 2020, according to a November 2025 report from the Institute of Jewish Policy Research (JPR), entitled “The End of Two-party Politics? Emerging Changes in the Political Preferences of British Jews.”
Labour has been typically favoured by more “secular” Jews while the Conservative party is traditionally preferred by more “observant” Jews. But for the first time in recent British Jewish history, support for the Labour and Conservative parties combined has fallen below 60 per cent.
“Reform UK is more likely to attract male, older, orthodox, and Zionist Jews; the Greens are more likely to attract younger, unaffiliated and anti-Zionist,” according to Dr. Jonathan Boyd, JPR’s executive director. The surge in Jewish support for Reform UK, a party whose rhetoric on immigration and nationalism would typically be expected to alienate minority communities, including Jews,” was described as “striking” by the JPR.
“Significant parts of the Jewish population may gravitate toward voices promising strength and clarity, regardless of ideological baggage” when mainstream parties were perceived as “weak or hostile,” the report added. “It may signal a structural shift in Jewish political identity.”
Three forces appear to be driving this fragmentation: the war in Gaza and its polarising effect on Jewish attitudes; rising antisemitism, culminating in the Heaton Park Synagogue terrorist attack; and a broader collapse of trust in mainstream parties.
“Together, these factors are pushing Jews toward parties that offer clarity — whether through populism or radical progressivism. If recent developments persist,” the report suggested, “British Jews are likely to become more politically polarised, prompting further internal community tensions.”
Henry Srebrnik is a professor of political science at the University of Prince Edward Island.