Saturday’s marches in central London offered another reminder that political extremes often converge around the same toxic obsession: the supposed hidden power of Zionists and Jews. At the “Unite the Kingdom” march, at least one banner invoked the familiar conspiracy theory of “End Zionist Occupation of Britain” – language that also appeared at the Nakba march.
The acronym “ZOG” – “Zionist Occupied Government”, seen at the pro-Palestinian march – originated in American neo-Nazi and white supremacist movements. But the broader idea of alleged covert “Zionist control” was invented and popularised by Soviet propaganda, which simply updated traditional antisemitic myths by replacing “Jews” with “Zionists”. The underlying world-view remains recognisably that of The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, the infamous antisemitic forgery produced in imperial Russia.
The Nakba march has become a source of particular alarm for Britain’s Jewish community. The march’s entire premise rests on the charge that Israel’s very creation was an unforgivable crime that rendered the Jewish state uniquely illegitimate. Unsurprisingly, then, these marches have for years been steeped in extremist rhetoric. Placards alleging “Zionist control”, alongside slogans such as “Resistance is justified”, once again featured prominently. Chants of “Globalise the intifada” and “From the river to the sea” echoed through central London – phrases the Prime Minister himself told the JC were antisemitic and racist. Yet while Sir Keir Starmer published a video ahead of the “Unite the Kingdom” march condemning it, there was no equivalent denunciation of the Nakba march, which year after year has become a predictable carnival of intimidation and incitement. Equally silent was London’s mayor Sadiq Khan.
In another example of how the far left and far right feed off one another’s antisemitic tropes, a Nakba marcher carried a placard proclaiming “Goyim against Zionist antigoyism”, deploying Yiddish terminology to accuse Jews of racism – a tactic popularised by the American far-right Holocaust denier Nick Fuentes.
The Met said it made 12 arrests at the Nakba march, but there were clearly many more breaches of the law. The practical objection is obvious: in a crowd of many thousands, not every offence can realistically be dealt with in real time. Yet if the authorities know with near certainty that the same unlawful behaviour recurs at the same marches, repeatedly, over more than two and a half years, why are these demonstrations still permitted to proceed unchanged? At some point, policing must move from inadequate reaction to meaningful prevention.
Following the Golders Green stabbing attacks, the police, CPS and government all assured the Jewish community that combating antisemitism was now a top priority. It is therefore troubling that the Nakba march was once again allowed to proceed through central London without conditions.
Why was it not at least rerouted away from synagogues, or turned into a static protest to minimise the intimidation of Jews making their way to Shabbat services? Many Jews once again didn’t attend synagogue because they feared confrontation or abuse. Freedom of protest is a fundamental liberty, but so too is freedom of religion, including the right to walk to one’s place of worship without running a gauntlet of screaming crowds and genocidal chants.
Nor would conditions meaningfully curtail democratic rights. Demonstrators would still be free to assemble, chant, wave banners and make their arguments. After all that has happened – and all the promises made to the community – it is difficult to understand the reasoning behind such passivity.
The state must balance competing rights but it also has a duty to prevent the routine normalisation of hatred. When police escort marches through London despite knowing in advance that antisemitic slogans and placards are likely to appear, a message is conveyed far beyond the activists themselves. Onlookers reasonably conclude that such rhetoric now lies within the boundaries of acceptable public discourse. Each week that openly antisemitic imagery and chants pass with minimal intervention, those boundaries shift a little further.
The cumulative effect on Britain’s Jewish community has been profound. But the damage extends wider still: to public standards, civic trust and social cohesion. Hatred repeated often enough ceases to shock. And once society grows accustomed to conspiracies about Jewish power – whether spread by self-styled anti-racists, nationalists or Islamists – history suggests darker developments are seldom far behind.
To get more from opinion, click here to sign up for our free Editor's Picks newsletter.