How to Use Power to Build, Not Divide.

You can read our full statement here.

While the work of JSpaceCanada focuses on Canada’s foreign policy regarding Israel-Palestine, and not domestic antisemitism advocacy, they often intersect, with one informing the other.

It is important to note that the attacker was killed at the scene by police, and that the motives for the attack remain unclear as of the time of this writing.

Assigning a specific ideology, political stance, or motivation to the attacker at this stage does more than raise fear within the Jewish community. It also creeps dangerously close to racism, bigotry, and bias.

Likewise, attempts to politicize the tragedy, as we saw from Israel's foreign ministry and individual members of Knesset, diminish the severity of the event itself. Such efforts shift the focus from the lives lost to a blame game aimed at scoring political points, turning diaspora Jews into political footballs for warring factions.

It is also critical to consider how we best counter the rising hate, division, and bigotry that permeate society today. This problem exists everywhere. From how some Israeli politicians dehumanize Palestinians to how some pro-Palestinian activists, who claim to be humanitarians, excuse or justify violence against Jews.

This is not an issue of the political left or right alone. It spans the ideological spectrum, because its root causes are deeper than any war, occupation, or political doctrine.

What we are witnessing today is the erosion of democratic norms, threats to democratic systems of governance globally, and a collapse in trust in institutions.

These conditions leave a gaping hole that conspiracy theories readily fill.

Combined with the proliferation of mis- and disinformation online, it becomes easy to see how narratives rooted in hate, fear of the “other,” and zero-sum thinking spread more quickly than ever.

It is crucial to call out antisemitism when we see it and name it explicitly as such. But acknowledging that antisemitism is part of a larger trend does not diminish its seriousness. In fact, one could argue that broader social justice movements of the past decade made a crucial mistake by exceptionalizing certain forms of hate.

While rhetoric may focus at different times on specific groups, systemic racism against Black people, anti-Asian hate during COVID, the reason it spreads so widely is shared.

Until we build alliances that address the common threads connecting these hatreds, we will be powerless to fight the systems that not only allow hate to proliferate, but actively benefit from its proliferation.

It has been disheartening to see elements of Netanyahu’s recent “super-Sparta” speech echoed within parts of the diaspora Jewish community: that we are alone, that no one will stand up for Jews, that building alliances with other minority groups is pointless.

It is likewise important to note that while the attack in the UK was not prevented, the existing security systems did function relatively well. The attacker was stopped before entering the synagogue, a result of the synagogue’s security guards, one of whom even lost his life in the line of duty.

Prime Minister Keir Starmer returned swiftly to the UK following the attack, and we saw rapid condemnation not only from global political leaders but also from diverse ethnic and faith-based advocacy groups.

This is not to minimize the tragedy, nor to suggest that it is normal or acceptable for Jewish institutions to require such extensive security, or for Jews to feel fearful attending places of worship.

There is still much work ahead of us, and the task is long and gruelling.

But this moment feels fundamentally different from previous eras of rising antisemitism in the diaspora. Today, antisemitism is recognized, taken seriously, prevention measures are funded, and its prevalence is publicly acknowledged.

We highlight this to stress that we are not starting from nothing. There is an established foundation of institutional and political support to build upon. Choosing instead to focus narrowly on extreme online rhetoric from individuals with little power, while ignoring those in positions of authority who do see the danger of rising hate, is not only strategically unwise but a missed opportunity.

Diaspora Jews have spent generations building political influence and proximity to power. We owe gratitude to Jewish establishment organizations that recognized this as vital strategic work for our safety.

But now, we must ask: what do we do with that power, and how best do we use it? It cannot be to simply stoke fear, telling our community that we are alone and must be afraid. It must be to recognize how much we have built, how far we have come, and use that foundation to propel the next stage of ensuring we do not backslide.

Throughout this High Holiday season, we have reflected not only on the past but on the question of who we want to be.

When we imagine our future, do we want to issue grave warnings that Jews must imminently abandon their diaspora homes en masse? Or do we want to build a resilient community with strong alliances, ensuring we never have to face such choices, now or in the future?

Our past warns us of the precarity and vulnerability Jews face in the diaspora, and we would be foolish to ignore these lessons. But we would be just as foolish to resign ourselves to never imagining, and never striving for, something better.