Lord Pickles: The Holocaust began with words and then ordinary people normalising hate – the same pattern we see today
This is the full text of a speech delivered by Lord Eric Pickles at Northwood and Ruislip Synagogue on Yom Hashoah, April 14, 2026Jonathan Tobin: Neutrality in the fight against genocidal terror isn’t moral
We gather this evening with solemnity and gravity, conscious that the Holocaust occupies a unique and terrible place in human history. On Yom HaShoah, you come together as a Jewish community – and with friends of the community – to honour the six million Jewish people murdered in the Shoah: lives extinguished not by chance, not as an accidental by‑product of war, but as the deliberate outcome of hatred, ideology, and systematic dehumanisation.
Six million can dull rather than sharpen understanding. Our task tonight is to resist that temptation – to remember that the Holocaust did not happen to a statistic, but to individual human beings: each with a name, a family, a profession, relationships, ambitions, and a future that was violently taken from them.
Yom HaShoah holds a particular moral weight because it is anchored not only in catastrophe, but in resistance. It falls on the anniversary of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, when Jews – starved, besieged, abandoned by the world – chose dignity over submission and moral courage over silence. The day’s full name: the Day of Remembrance of the Holocaust and of Heroism – reminds us that Jewish history in this period cannot be reduced to victimhood alone.
This day exists because memory matters. Memory hosts truth.
But memory on its own is not enough.
Yom HaShoah was never intended to be comfortable. It exists not to console us, but to confront us. It demands reflection not only on what happened, but on how it could happen; not only on the dead, but on the living; not only on history, but on ourselves.
Because the Holocaust did not begin with gas chambers. It did not begin with death camps or mass murder. It began earlier, and far more quietly. It began with language that reframed human beings as problems to be managed. It began with laws and institutions that made exclusion appear reasonable, even necessary. And it began when ordinary people – people not unlike ourselves – chose not to stand up while standing up still seemed possible.
History rarely announces catastrophe.
History whispers long before it screams.
One of the greatest dangers facing Holocaust remembrance today is ritual without responsibility.
Ritual has its place. Ceremony can bind communities together in shared memory and collective mourning. When remembrance becomes routine, it risks losing its capacity to disturb, to challenge, and to warn.
The central lesson of the Holocaust is not simply that evil exists. Humanity has always known that. The deeper and more uncomfortable lesson is that evil flourishes when good people fail to act – when silence is reframed as prudence, caution mistaken for wisdom, and delay justified as restraint.
The Holocaust did not require universal hatred. It required acquiescence. It required millions of small decisions to comply, to adapt, to adjust expectations, and to wait for clarity that never came.
Wars do solve some thingsVivian Bercovici: In Carney’s Canada, the law protects antisemites, not Jews
Still, that’s not the same thing as the pontiff actually being in the right on the underlying issue.
It is all well and good for Pope Leo to say he’s against all suffering, but in point of fact, he’s wrong about wars not solving anything. They may cause incalculable pain and are truly horrible. But wars have solved some problems. To take but one example from history in which the Vatican’s professed neutrality about conflicts didn’t cover it in glory, the defeat of Germany and its allies in the Second World War was the only way to defeat Nazism and end the Holocaust.
Not to put too fine a point on it, if a second Holocaust—the goal of Iran’s Islamist regime, as well as its Hamas and Hezbollah allies in Gaza and Lebanon, with respect to the state of Israel and its population—is to be avoided, it’s going to require more than papal sermons on the evil of wars.
And that is the focal point of the debate about the current Iran conflict, just as it was in the war against Hamas.
A just war
Calling for a permanent ceasefire may put a temporary end to the suffering caused by the conflict. And blasting warlike rhetoric from the combatants always makes those denouncing them seem morally superior. But if it means allowing Iran, Hamas and Hezbollah in their strongholds to rebuild and rearm—and to allow Tehran to resume its nuclear project, missile building and spreading terrorism around the globe—it is neither merciful nor just. Appeals to end the fighting while leaving jihadists in power—and capable of continuing their war on the West and non-Islamist civilization—are as inappropriate as they would have been for a ceasefire before the unconditional surrender of the Nazis in 1945.
The responsibility of Trump and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu is to prevent the mullahs in Tehran from persisting in their genocidal plotting and weapons building, which led directly to the horrors of Oct. 7. To merely denounce what happened on Oct. 7, as the pope did, is fine. But to oppose efforts to ensure that the murderers would be stopped from making good on their pledges to repeat those crimes over and over again, as he insinuated, isn’t an example of a higher morality. Treating murderers and those whose task it is to stop them as morally equivalent—and that’s what the pope and many other world leaders, especially in Western Europe, have done with respect to Hamas and Iran—is wrong, even if the motivation for such statements is rooted in an entirely laudable abhorrence of suffering.
Wars are awful and should be avoided if possible. But the battle against the Islamist terrorists running Iran, and their Hamas and Hezbollah minions whose Oct. 7 atrocities were just a trailer for what they wish to do to all Israelis, is a just one.
It is also impossible to separate the preaching against such just wars from the global surge of antisemitism that has spread since Oct. 7.
We cannot and should not be told by our government to build ever higher walls around our community centres, homes, schools, and synagogues. It is absurd, obscene and reminiscent of an era I would prefer not to invoke.
Canada’s organised Jewish community has always preferred a quiet approach to dealing with authorities. Even after the synagogue shootings, mainstream organisations were counselling cautious trust as we move forward. Perhaps this time, they said, the authorities and leadership will step up.
Days after the most recent attacks, Prime Minister Carney chose to spend time at an Iftar dinner in Ottawa, having a jolly old time working the room. He quite noticeably (and, one assumes, intentionally) has not met with any Jewish leaders since the shootings. He certainly has not been photographed glad-handing in rooms full of Canadian Jews. That omission is not an oversight.
Since being elected PM with a strong minority government on April 28, 2025 (as a result of a spate of “floor crossings” in the House and recent by-elections he now commands a parliamentary majority), Carney has not spoken with his Israeli counterpart, Benjamin Netanyahu. He has, however, been a reliably harsh and frequent critic of Israeli policy and Netanyahu himself. Among his more notable remarks was one made during an interview with Bloomberg News in October, 2025. When asked if he would honour the more than dubious ICC warrant issued for Netanyahu’s arrest (should he set foot on Canadian soil), Carney unhesitatingly responded in the affirmative.
And he went further, gratuitously criticising Netanyahu, claiming that “the actions of Netanyahu’s government were explicitly designed to end any possibility of a Palestinian state in violation of the UN Charter and going against Canadian government policy of any political stripe since 1947.”
Carney could have easily ducked or finessed his response. Instead, he chose – deliberately – to lash out. He is, of course, entitled to criticise Israeli policy. What he appears not to grasp is that doing so with such zeal stokes and legitimises violent antisemitism in Canada.
The message to Canada’s Jews is not subtle – and nor are its implications.











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