Observations from Brussels on Anti-Semitism and Its Threats

Living in Brussels isn’t quite like those picturesque postcards or the high-profile meetings people might imagine. It’s more real. Here, Jewish schools are protected by armed guards, synagogues resemble fortresses, and parents discreetly teach their children to place a Star of David beneath their clothing before stepping outside.

I’ve seen what overt anti-Semitism looks like over the years. It’s disheartening, really. I’ve promised myself I wouldn’t return to this continent, yet here I am.

So, let me pose a question that many might hesitate to say aloud:

Why can’t I—someone rooted in Europe, witnessing these events day after day—turn my gaze across the ocean and clearly predict what will come? Why can’t I alert Americans that what I’m experiencing is slowly creeping into your world? Furthermore, why should this alert only concern Jewish community leaders when it is a matter that affects all Americans who still think, “It can’t happen here”?

Addressing Islamist-Inspired Anti-Semitic Violence

This is a call to all leaders, not just those within the Jewish community. Yes, I’m speaking to you: mayors, senators, university heads, police officials—anyone with the power to make a difference but perhaps feeling tempted to turn away.

Wake up.

In Europe, anti-Semitism didn’t resurge because of a resurgence of the swastika; it returned under the guise of various slogans—draped in the language of justice. It branded itself as activism and engaged with anyone who dared to oppose. And it brought with it not just rhetoric but violent extremism, which our leaders regarded as fringe for far too long. There was a false belief that this was merely a misunderstanding, a problem that would resolve itself over time through patience. Yet, that proved to be a damaging misinterpretation, and we’re now facing the consequences.

We were overly confident in our ability to handle it. We thought, mistakenly, that these were not our neighborhoods or our children’s issues. We were wrong.

Just a single weekend can illustrate this in Europe’s grand capitals. Look at Paris, where order collapsed rapidly, hundreds were apprehended, and chaos besieged police stations in some of the city’s most elegant districts, leading to the closure of the Eiffel Tower.

Such a swift loss of control in vibrant cities is alarming. And when societal order crumbles, it is invariably the Jewish community that feels the brunt of it first.

Americans observe these events as if they’re viewing a distant storm—disturbing and tragic, but far removed from their reality. They might think, “That’s a different country, it won’t happen here.”

For generations, the United States has stood as a refuge for Jews, where they could walk freely in neighborhoods like Brooklyn or Boca Raton without second-guessing their safety. Here, children can wear yarmulkes without parental anxiety, and synagogues don’t need to resemble fortresses. America once heralded the promise that Europe’s tragic past wouldn’t repeat itself. This strength was not mere chance; it stemmed from a societal culture that unequivocally condemned anti-Semitism.

But that confidence wavers now. Those deepening divisions are not being exacerbated by masked individuals on the streets but by influential voices shaping discourse in universities and beyond. These voices teach young generations that some forms of hatred are politically acceptable, while the age-old hatred gains traction as just another viewpoint.

It’s concerning when society tolerates anti-Semitism because it aligns with a certain political narrative. A threat amplifies when extremists feel emboldened, hearing the same message we were warned of in Europe: no one is going to stop you.

I’m not suggesting that Americans should live in fear; that’s exactly what some wish for. Instead, I’m advocating for honesty—it costs little but carries weight.

This isn’t merely about differing opinions. Healthy democracies thrive on robust debates. The crucial question is whether society will consistently oppose hate, regardless of its fashionable source, the moral high ground claimed by its proponents, or the comfort found in labeling it as “less severe.” This is a test Europe has failed, and the signs are everywhere—in my neighborhood and across major European capitals.

So, I direct my thoughts to America’s leaders. You’ve seen the unfolding reality here. As someone entrenched in this situation, I ask plainly: how can you choose to allow that danger to seep into your society, knowing what Europe has become, and witnessing the armed guards, fortified places of worship, and families leaving for safety?

Consider this an early warning from someone with insights that generations before me didn’t possess. We still have the power to act, while the cost remains manageable.

The narrative we’ve seen play out in Europe is clear, and its conclusion is foreboding.

America has time yet to focus on other topics—but not much. Don’t wait until my experiences resonate in your reality before heeding this cautionary tale.