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Too many people view the violence in Israel and Gaza through a distorted lens of antisemitism, the editorial board writes

Hatred aimed at a specific group of people, whether based on politics or religion or race, will just as easily be turned against other minority groups who may fall out of favor.

(Dave Sanders for The New York Times) Demonstrators at a vigil in Manhattan, 30 days after the start of the war between Israel and Hamas.

“First they came for the Communists, and I did not speak out because I was not a Communist. Then they came for the Socialists and I did not speak out because I was not a Socialist. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me, and there was no one left to speak out for me.” Martin Niemöller

Hate is contagious.

In so many places around the world, foolish and uninformed reactions to the violence in Israel and Gaza have led to a frightening spike in the number of antisemitic incidents, demonstrations and acts of violence.

Jewish Americans who previously felt safe and accepted in their communities, on college campuses, practically everywhere in our multicultural and accepting nation, are suddenly afraid to be out in public.

They hear taunts from individuals and chants from large demonstrations. They have reason to fear that if they are identified as Jewish by someone they don’t even know, if they are seen to be wearing a Star of David or any other religious symbol, that they might be threatened or attacked for the mere fact of their faith.

The history and events of the Middle East, of Israel, Palestine, Gaza and the West Bank, are long and complicated. But not so long and complicated that a reasonably intelligent American should not understand that centuries of discrimination, up to and including mass murder, visited upon the Jews of the world is not to be forgotten, and certainly not to be emulated.

It was not all that long ago that the Nazi regime in Germany rose to power on a promise to blame, punish, expel and, eventually, the attempted annihilation of millions of Jews they irrationally blamed for all manner of economic and social woes. More than 6 million Jews, along with millions of other disfavored people, were murdered in what has come to be known as the Holocaust.

But it didn’t begin with concentration camps, gas chambers and crematoria. It began with lies, with normalizing hate, with mass media campaigns that portrayed Jews as evil, greedy, something other than human, the cause of all of the nation’s problems, who needed to be swept aside so that Germany could return to its former and righteous glory.

History is coming much too close to repeating itself.

Modern social media platforms are much more efficient than any propaganda channels the Nazis could invent. And they were the experts.

Lies and rumors blaming all the world’s Jews for suffering and violence in Palestinian territories and for economic inequality throughout the rest of the world travel around the globe on X and TikTok before the truth can get its shoes on.

As a result, too much of the world views the events of the ongoing violence in Israel and Gaza through a distorted lens of antisemitism. Good people who would otherwise be vocally aghast at the terror, rape, kidnapping and murder carried out by Hamas on Oct. 7 are too often silent or ambivalent in their reactions.

Much of the blame must fall on the upbringing of America’s youth, on schools and parents and mass media, all of which have failed in their responsibility to educate young people fully in history, civics, arts and literature.

A push to stress science and technology over the humanities in our schools and universities, together with a common addiction to unvetted social media as a source of information, has left a generation unaware of the history that has brought us to this point.

The often-heard chant, “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free,” has been taken up by many who apparently do not even know what the sentence means. It means wiping the modern nation of Israel off the map — from the Jordan River to the Mediterranean Sea — pushing 7 million Jewish Israelis, and perhaps another 2 million Arabs who also live in Israel, to their deaths or to flee as refugees.

The above statement by Lutheran Pastor Martin Niemöller is, or should be, well known to students of history. Not everyone may realize that Niemoller was once about as antisemitic as they come, denouncing Jews and supporting the rise of the Nazis as a means of restoring German vitality and morality.

It was only when the government started trying to run Christian churches that Niemoller turned against the Nazis, was arrested, sent to a concentration camp, survived and spent much of the rest of his life urging his fellow Germans to face up to their sins.

His message remains meaningful today. Hatred aimed at a specific group of people, whether based on politics or religion or race, will just as easily be turned against other minority groups who may fall out of favor.

Hatred of Jews today will easily turn to hatred of Muslims, of Black people, of Hindus, of Native Americans or, as its historically aware members well know, members of smaller religions such as The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Everyone with a voice and a conscience must now speak out against this new wave of antisemitism. This is true of political leaders and, in Utah, leaders of the LDS Church.

One easy way for the rest of us, those without much power or influence, to join that effort is called Project Menorah.

It is a campaign for people who are not Jewish to join the Jewish holiday tradition of placing a Menorah — or an image of one, available online — in the front window of their homes during the eight nights of Chanukah, which began Thursday.

It is a way to show solidarity with the Jews of our nation and to assuage any fear among Jewish households that they would call unwelcome attention to themselves if they were the only home on their street to display the ceremonial candle holder.

It would be one small way for many of us to say, “Never again.”