Simon Schama: Jew hatred feeds on lies. The antidote is truth
Antisemitism is now the fastest metastasising race hatred in the Western world. Eighty years after the end of the war that exterminated two-thirds of their European population, Jews are experiencing a drastic contraction of citizenship. They no longer enjoy the assumed right, for instance, to wear in public what clothing when and where they wish; to gather for prayer or weddings or bar mitzvahs without the necessity of armed guards in front of their place of worship.The Silenced Howl of Howard Jacobson
Should Jews have the temerity to show up near a pro-Palestinian demonstration carrying a sign indicating their allegiance, they are the ones threatened with arrest unless they remain silent or, preferably, remove themselves altogether from the scene. In April 2024, the head of the Campaign Against Antisemitism was told that looking “quite openly Jewish” near to a demonstration (he was wearing a kippah) constituted “a breach of the peace”.
Never mind that this dramatic loss of security in the Diaspora makes the case for Zionism more effectively than anything Herzl or Ben-Gurion wrote (though in many ways it rehearses their prophecies and warnings); the pile-on continues unabated. College faculties are commanded by student demonstrators to cleanse themselves of suspect – or, worse, professed – Zionists.
An undergraduate leader of marches and rallies at my own Columbia University in New York excitedly proclaimed on video that he would like to go out and murder as many Zionists as he could. A British government review in June 2026 revealed National Health Service workers saying they would refuse to treat Israeli patients, even if they were on the verge of death. Medical staff at a hospital in Bankstown, Australia, were filmed performing a throat-slitting gesture, indicating how much they looked forward to prime opportunities to hasten the death of any Israeli patients.
Everywhere, Jews have been instructed that they cannot expect to remain in cultural or social institutions in which they have participated, should they not publicly and vehemently repudiate their ancestral homeland. Installed on this cultural and social selection ramp are the arbitrators of which Jews may pass this acceptability test and which not.
In Italy, Keshet Italia and Keshet Europe, Jewish LGBTQ organisations, were forbidden from joining a Pride march in Rome for insufficiently denouncing Israeli genocide. The Israeli presence at the Eurovision Song Contest was enough for Spain, the Netherlands, Slovenia, Iceland and Ireland to pull out of the event, claiming in high dudgeon that it would be morally tainted. Purges and exclusions, active or passive, are now the norm.
On a New York subway car in 2024, a shouty pro-Palestine militant demanded to know whether there were any Zionists aboard, as they would have to exit before the train could proceed. In November the following year, supporters of the Maccabi Tel Aviv football team were banned by Birmingham City Council from attending a Europa League match against Aston Villa on the grounds that they had demonstrated a thirst for exceptional violence at an earlier match in Amsterdam.
The council acted on information supplied by the West Midlands Police; the fact that the information turned out to be false did not prevent the chief constable from repeating it to Parliament. In January 2026 it was revealed that the WMP had had intelligence about local groups planning to arm themselves and target Maccabi fans but failed to disclose this to the MPs.
On 3 June 2026, an unhinged woman on the C train subway in New York shouted that “Jews are eating kids”, adding that she could smell the children on a nearby Orthodox woman whom she went on to assault.
Appearing at an anti-Israel rally in the heart of a conspicuously Jewish district of Toronto, Abbas Hamze – who has been an instructor at Canadian colleges, including the University of Niagara Falls – spoke of Jews “practising black magic” and raping and eating children. The fleeting period when social media platforms made an ostensible effort to block evidently harmful lies from multiplying has given way to the higher imperative of clicks, triggered not by conscientious resistance to conspiracy and malevolent fantasy but by encouraging its profitable sensationalism.
The road to revenue is lined with lies and Jews are its run-over casualties.
In the digital universe, the revelation of outlandish falsehoods is no guarantee of their impotence, much less their disappearance. Long gone are the times when John Milton, arguing in Areopagitica for an unlicensed press, could write, “Let her [Truth] and Falsehood grapple; whoever knew Truth put to the worse in a free and open encounter?”
Is a brilliant new novel about Britain after October 7 being cashiered?Seth Mandel: You Hate To See It
Many of Draxler’s demoralizing and deranging experiences are inspired by real events, among them teenagers filmed tearing down posters of October 7 hostages, London police officers telling “obviously Jewish” people to get off the street lest they provoke Gaza marchers into violence by their mere presence, and upper-middle-class activists vandalizing paintings to protest Zionism. Even so, there is a surreal quality to Draxler’s experiences. He is a far from reliable narrator, and even he wonders whether his Holocaust-shadowed childhood is distorting or intensifying his perceptions of post–October 7 London.
Does his daughter really have “Kill all Zionists” tattooed around her belly button? Could it be that it was his own brother, not roving anti-Semites, who daubed “Yid 1” on his car while he sleepily kept guard outside his mother’s house? And on the night of October 7 itself, did Draxler really hear his neighbors chorus “gas the Jews” as they “popped prosecco corks”? In real life, there were no reports of such an incident in Britain, as bad as things became in the days after October 7.2
Draxler is well aware that his mind is swimming in paranoia, but he also knows that there are sound historical reasons for a Jew like himself to be fearful, and that on a more local scale, there really are people who are out to get him.
In one of the richest parts of the book, Draxler has a friendly conversation with a Syrian Arab doctor, the father of one of his pupils. (Draxler has carefully made sure that a copy of the Koran is prominent on his office bookshelf.) The physician tells him about the hadith concerning the Gharqad tree. He explains that during the End of Days, when the Faithful are in their final war with the Jews and the very rocks and stones call out “O, Muslim, there is a Jew hiding behind me, come and kill him,” only the Gharqad tree will refuse to take part and stay silent. But then, says the doctor, “because Jews seek safety behind Gharqad trees we will know where to find them.” The doctor says he doesn’t subscribe to this teaching; he just wants Draxler to know what he is up against.
But Draxler’s predicament is not just a question of fear and the reasons for it. He is dealing with overwhelming disillusionment. He (like Jacobson, presumably) has always put his faith in the morally improving effects of knowledge, education, and culture, a faith that has become untenable in the face of campus bloodlust and bigotry: “Teach people and Belsen will never happen again, the world said in 1945. We forgot that it depended on what we taught.” Far from a source of hope, the young generation programmed in the West’s universities possesses an ugly moral certainty as profound as its ignorance. Language itself can no longer be trusted: “The language I’d been reading all my life assumed a common enterprise of imagination and compassion. Words were there to help us navigate our way to the truth. Not any more.”
Howl is not without flaws. Despite Jacobson’s acute understanding of the various forms of anti-Semitism, he does not and maybe cannot portray a convincing anti-Semite. Then there is his own predilection for Jewish stereotype. Draxler, like most of Jacobson’s male stand-ins, is proudly ignorant of the natural world, compulsively argumentative, impractical, and obsessed in a quasi-Oedipal way with his mother. Perhaps in the 1960s, when Jacobson’s comic sensibilities were taking shape, it was a cute act of aesthetic rebellion for Jewish authors to favor male Jewish protagonists who were hairy, sweaty, neurotic, self-conscious, unathletic, sexually perverse, and socially awkward. As quintessentially Jewish as those qualities may have seemed in the era of Lenny Bruce, today they feel like tired shtick.
None of this diminishes what Jacobson has achieved with Howl, a comic novel that is as serious and important as it is funny. Its implications reach far beyond Britain and the predicament of its Jewry—a predicament that has actually darkened since the book was written, as the Manchester synagogue attack in October 2025 made clear. Howl is the Catch-22 of the post–October 7 era, the first major artistic response to that horror and the ways in which it has changed the world.
It is therefore all the more bizarre—and troubling—that the novel could not find a mainstream American publisher.
That failure is so striking that it has become a key exhibit in the charge that mainstream American publishing has become institutionally hostile to Jewish authors and Jewish books (with the exception of those that are explicitly hostile to Zionism and/or reek of anti-Semitism).
According to a widely circulated article in the Wall Street Journal, there is considerable evidence of something that looks like an informal boycott in the publishing industry: “Published writers with overtly Jewish books say their agents have dropped them from their roster; writers are being asked by editors to purge Jewish or Israeli elements from their books.”
Jacobson’s mixed commercial record over four decades and the general decline of the literary novel could make for a plausible market-based explanation for the failure of Howl to find a U.S. publisher—if it weren’t so topical, so timely, so well-reviewed in the UK, and, above all, so damned good.
A publisher would have to be an idiot not to see the commercial potential of a comic masterpiece like Howl. Given that most heads of major publishing houses are not idiots, it does look, troublingly, as if some other, less creditable factor has been at play.
At best, it could reflect the cowardice of politically correct middle-aged executives who fear more than anything condemnation by their intolerant young staff. Certainly, it would be interesting to know what influenced the decision-makers at Simon & Schuster, which previously published two of Jacobson’s novels (Kalooki Nights and The Act of Love). It is not as if S&S has been afraid of publishing politically controversial authors. It has, after all, bought the novels of the Arab-American writer Susan Abulhawa, whose overtly anti-Semitic remarks have been condemned as “reprehensible” even by Zohran Mamdani.
Eventually, Wicked Son, the small publishing house that has inaugurated a new line of books specifically from the list of those by Jewish authors who find their work summarily rejected by the big firms, bought Howl. It is apparently due to come out in 2027. The fact that no mainstream American publisher would touch Howl is a disturbing confirmation that Ferdinand Draxler’s October 8 perceptions of a world changed for the worse are spot-on: “I had suffered no loss but the space I moved in, like the air I breathed, had acquired a different density.”
Though the Times gushes that Mamdani could have been built in a lab, he is running into a problem: his voters believed him.
Mamdani was always looking for ways to up the ante—rhetorically, at least. And so he infamously told socialist activists that the Jewish state was to be blamed for every local New York City problem. If you see police brutality, he mused, picture an IDF soldier lacing the cop’s boots. Then he insisted he would abuse his office by directing the NYPD to arrest a foreign head of government, the prime minister of the one and only Jewish state.
These were ludicrous claims, and they suggested Mamdani was very much a bigoted con man who would try to sell New Yorkers the air they breathed. But people believed him, because they hated Israel enough to believe anything.
And what is one thing you’d expect of a man who blamed Jews for NYPD misbehavior and who claimed total control over the police force as if it were his praetorian guard? Of course: His rabid supporters want the head of Police Commissioner Jessica Tisch, who wears a Star of David pendant around her neck.
Demands to purge high-profile Jews who haven’t renounced their own people are not unprecedented, of course. But rarely are they so nakedly proposed in New York, home to more Jews than any city outside Israel (and most cities inside Israel).
Of course, the pro-Palestinian fire-the-Jewess campaign is part of a larger menu of items on which anti-Zionists seek to gorge themselves. As the Times notes, Mamdani “is being asked to fulfill an activist wish list unlike any delivered to mayors in the recent past. It includes abolishing the City University of New York Board of Trustees (over investments tied to Israel); intervening in the programming decisions of local synagogues; and halting any military shipments to Israel through the city’s major airports, which the mayor does not control.”
Why would they think he had control over U.S. foreign policy? Perhaps because he indicated that he had precisely those powers when he threatened to J. Edgar Hoover the NYPD on Bibi Netanyahu.
The reporting on this all suggests poor Zohran Mamdani has been put in a tough spot. But of course, that’s not true at all. Mamdani put himself in that spot. He deserves all of this. It is important, in fact, that an anti-Semitic power-hungry demagogue be brought back down to earth with simple politics.
Mamdani’s mob wants what it voted for. They won’t get it—not all of it—and Mamdani will look like what he is: a man who over-promised and under-prepared for a serious role in a democracy.



















