The Holocaust should not be conflated with the painful memories of October 7. Though both mark unimaginable Jewish suffering, they are not the same.
The Holocaust spanned five harrowing years. The October 7 atrocities unfolded over just twelve hours. During the Holocaust, we were stateless and abandoned. No country intervened to save us. Today, we are no longer helpless. We are blessed with a strong Jewish state, sworn to protect any Jew in danger – anywhere on Earth.
Yet it is difficult not to consider the two in tandem. 1940 and 2023 feel eerily and hauntingly similar. In both moments, we were assaulted by grisly, unthinkable and indiscriminate violence, solely because we were Jewish. And of course, each of these brutal pogroms was fueled by raging antisemitism which paved the way for dehumanization, thereby sanctioning every form of cruelty and sadistic torture.
Yet despite the fact that each tragedy was driven by rabid Jew-hatred, there are significant differences between the antisemitism of 1940 and that of 2023.
Exposing Moral Rot
Antisemitism isn’t a historical accident – it’s woven into the fabric of the human story. Though it often cloaks itself in cultural, economic, or ethnic explanations, its roots run deeper. We were summoned to call humanity to a life of godliness and moral spirit. Those who resist that calling, and who recoil from the demand for higher moral fitness, naturally despise the people who bear that mission.
Since antisemitism is rooted in hatred of our moral mission, its eruptions incite deep flaws in the societies that foster it. When antisemitism flares, it unveils the moral fractures within society that have long remained hidden beneath the surface. Each manifestation of Jew-hatred is not only a window into the warped minds of our enemies – it is a keyhole through which we glimpse the cultural dysfunction of the world that enabled it.
The antisemitism of the Holocaust shattered the illusion of a new and enlightened Europe. For nearly two centuries, the continent had experienced sweeping transformation – democracy had taken root, capitalism had expanded, technology had flourished, and modern culture had awakened. These forces created the mirage of a utopian Europe, poised to replace the medieval past with a bright and noble future. There was hope that this “New Europe” could lead humanity into an era of progress, reason, and dignity. New Europe was brimming with confidence in its future of political freedom and social progress.
Yet it was Germany – the crown jewel of modern Europe – that orchestrated the most inhumane crime in human history. Not only did it assault our people, but it also weaponized the tools of modernity – technology, communication, transportation – to carry out that heinous crime with brutal efficiency. The “New Europe,” once a beacon of hope, was laid bare as morally hollow. The Holocaust unmasked the folly of imagining that science, culture, and rationalism – divorced from moral spirit – could craft a utopian society.
The antisemitism of 2023 has shattered a very different illusion. In the decades since World War II, humanity has labored to build a society of equals. 21st century man emerged from a century scarred by fascism and communism; by the brutal attempts of governments to oppress its citizens by prioritizing national loyalty over personal liberty. Humanity envisioned a freer, fairer future – one grounded in the sanctity of human dignity and the unwavering protection of individual rights. In pursuit of that ideal, it entered a noble yet dizzying race to safeguard the oppressed and to amplify the voices of the most vulnerable. A sweeping campaign for justice surged across the globe, determined to right historical wrongs and uphold the worth of every human life.
And yet, the horrors of October 2023 – and the disgraceful defense of Hamas by some of the very people who champion human rights – have pierced this illusion. The very voices that demanded justice for every group have had nothing to say about, the children who were slaughtered, the families who were torn apart. Those who once championed women’s rights but now remain silent in the face of the brutalization of Jewish women have exposed a profound hypocrisy. The crusade for social justice and for the protection of individual rights has become politicized, stripped of its inner moral core.
Both in 1940 and in 2023, antisemitism revealed the moral decay in societies that appeared to have achieved lofty moral goals. The antisemitism of the Holocaust uncovered the moral rot of a Europe that preached culture and civility, only to descend into barbarism. The antisemitism of our time now exposes the staggering hypocrisy at the heart of the modern human rights movement.
Antisemitism and Jewish Destiny
Antisemitism is a reaction to the Jewish mission of bringing Hashem’s presence into the world. It is a religious struggle with those who cannot accept Hashem’s presence and the moral accountability that comes with it and are unsettled by our people who embody that presence. Religiously driven antisemitism resonates more closely with our historical and redemptive understanding of Jewish history.
The antisemitism of the Holocaust was not primarily religious in nature. It was fueled by the ideology of social Darwinism and the belief that Jews represented a genealogical – or at least social – threat to the health of the larger society. The goal was not theological confrontation, but extermination, based on a warped vision of racial purity and societal strength. Though religious undertones lingered in the background, the hatred was largely racial and national.
By contrast, the antisemitism we now face is far more openly religious. It is inflamed by fundamentalist strains of Islam that view the Jew as the ultimate infidel and cannot abide a Jewish presence – let alone sovereignty – in the heart of what they claim as Islamic territory. In many ways, this form of religious hatred is more familiar to us and more consistent with our view of Am Yisrael and Jewish destiny.
Another difference between the antisemitism of the Holocaust and our current struggle is the question of whether the world is entirely against us or whether some are standing with our people. During the Holocaust, antisemitism swept across the globe. Though it was most viciously manifested in Central and Eastern Europe through Nazism, it was also deeply embedded in Communist Russia. Even in countries that did not actively participate, antisemitism often lingered as a cultural undercurrent. In 1940, it felt as though the entire world had turned its back on the Jews. We found ourselves in a state reminiscent of Avraham, standing on one side of the river while the entire world stood on the other.
The current wave of antisemitism is playing out differently. While October 7 unleashed a surge of hatred it has also galvanized support for the Jewish people. Many non-Jews have responded with clarity and moral courage, standing by Israel and identifying with its values. In a world clouded by moral confusion, some view the Jewish people as a symbol of ethical resilience and principled strength.
This modern landscape also resonates more deeply with our historical expectations. Our understanding of history and geulah does not envision the elimination of all those who are not Jewish. Rather, it acknowledges that there are individuals and groups willing to bring Hashem’s presence and moral spirit into this world, and these are the people who are part of the end of history. Yet, there are also factions who refuse to pursue moral and spiritual behavior, including those who resort to violence against those who embody these values and they will be not be part of the Messianic end of time.
The current wave of religiously driven antisemitism fits more readily into our view of the end of days. Likewise, it is easier to recognize the end of days now, as many “umot Ha’olam” stand robustly with us in response to this hatred.
