Yes, we’re vigilant and even fearful. But the Jews of north Manchester are steadfast and resilient.
December 24, 2025 15:11
Throughout the course of history there have been monstrous antisemites dedicated to the destruction of the Jewish people.
Yet looking into the bleak, joyless eyes of Walid Saadaoui and Amar Hussein, two Islamic State extremists found guilty of plotting a deadly gun attack on Manchester's Jewish community – on my community has felt particularly personal.
These vile, Jew-hating terrorists, according to Greater Manchester Police, had plotted what “could potentially have been the deadliest terrorist attack in UK history.” They had carefully scoped the very centre of Jewish life here in Prestwich and Higher Broughton, carrying out surveillance on Jewish nurseries, schools, synagogues and shops.
Living as I do in this heartland of north Manchester, it is hard to process that while those of us in the Jewish community were going about our daily lives – picking up children from school, shopping at the local deli, attending communal events – these men were quietly watching, planning their demonic agenda.
And yet, since October 2, the slaughtering hand of Jew-hating terror has been ever close to our thoughts.
The murderous attack at Heaton Park Synagogue is still hard to process. Not least for me since it is a place bound up with my own life: this is the shul where I got married, where my brother had his bar mitzvah, and where my late grandfather served as choir master .
Only this morning I was in my local kosher supermarket – ordinarily a place of agitating routine .Yet now it is also freighted with sadness: one of those brutally killed at Heaton Park, Melvin Cravitz, used to work there. Idling in the aisles, dawdling over choices of smoked salmon or tubs of egg and onion, it’s hard to believe that terrorism has come so terrifyingly close to home.
Manchester, of course, has suffered grievously before. The 2017 Manchester Arena bombing, carried out by Islamic extremist Salman Abedi, killed 22 people and injured more than a thousand. Even outside the Jewish community Mancunians know what it is to be targeted by jihadi hatred.
So what do we do, living in a city that has become a focus for extremist violence and evil intent? What is most striking – from the harrowing Arena attack to these antisemitic outrages – is resilience. It’s not only a fundamental northern sensibility that cleaves to optimism, but within the Jewish heartlands there’s a determination to continue living graced by our ancient traditions, unbowed by those who seek our destruction.
Naturally, the revelation that such a mass atrocity was being planned under our noses has seeded fresh fear. On Friday nights around the dinner table, the same question keeps returning: Is the UK safe? Is Manchester safe?
Will I leave? The answer for now is a resounding no. I love Manchester — its earthy humour, its proximity to the restorative Lancashire countryside, the fact that St Anne’s beach is forty minutes away. I love that you always bump into someone you know in the M&S car park. And people always say “Good Shabbos” to strangers
If I ever leave, it will be because I choose to – not because I am forced.
Of course, we are all now acutely vigilant. Glancing twice at unfamiliar faces near our shops and synagogues. On Shabbat mornings, walking to shul we all offer especially heartfelt thanks to the police, security teams and CST volunteers who stand guard. But as a Mancunian I refuse to let this frame my situation or rule my lot.
Meanwhile the answer is not simply higher walls, sharper barbed wire, more cameras or tighter locks. It is for the Government to root out extremism, to deport hate-mongers, and to shut down places where violent hatred foments and is cultivated. Keir Starmer needs to supplant performative words of comfort with concrete action. Politicians need to know: if your hearts are with us, then your hands must be too.
In the meantime, Manchester stands strong. Saadaoui and Hussein now take their place in the long list of those who have sought to kill us. Their place in history will be fleeting. Ours will endure.
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