Historian Simon Schama: With parts of London ‘no-go zones,’ Jews have lost basic civil rights
As a “little Jewish boy” growing up in postwar Britain, Simon Schama says he never felt physically unsafe walking the streets wearing a kippa. Nor, he says, were guards routinely posted at the door of the local synagogue.Seth Mandel: So You Want To Be a Bundist
But, notes the acclaimed historian, that’s not the experience of Jewish children in Britain today. Instead, he says, it is the most difficult time for young Jews to be growing up since the end of World War II.
“It’s really painful that little kids, for example, Hasmonean or Jewish Free School kids, have to hide their uniforms,” Schama tells The Times of Israel. “The sense of a fearful loss not just of self-esteem, but basic civil rights. Nobody goes around tearing hijabs off Muslim women, and I’m very glad they don’t. But this is a dreadful time just [in terms of] feeling you have equal rights to the rest of the multicultural population.”
Parts of central London’s West End, says Schama, have become “no-go” areas, with Jews wearing a kippa or a Star of David facing the risk of “being screamed at.”
Schama’s comments came during a week when Britain’s Jewish community — already experiencing near-record levels of antisemitic incidents — was further shaken by an arson attack on four ambulances belonging to a Jewish-run volunteer organization in the heavily Jewish north London neighborhood of Golders Green.
A renowned art historian, as well as a scholar of British, French, and Jewish history, Schama is clearly put off by an anti-Israel exhibition in Margate, on the south coast of England, that made headlines that same week.
“Disgusting, horrible, mad, kind of bad Julius Streicher cartoons of Jews eating babies,” says Schama. “The really worrying thing is, of course, how these extreme, murderous, grotesque things have become absolutely… part of Generation Z’s repartee.”
All of this is far removed from the world in which Schama grew up.
“My father thought, after the Holocaust, there was nothing to fear in Britain,” he recalls. “Both my parents, and their generation, and indeed mine growing up, thought somehow of British life and Jewish life being a kind of almost perfect cultural fit.”
Despite being a Labour supporter, like many British Jews at the time, Schama’s father “worshiped Churchill both as a Zionist and for the war,” he says. Schama recalls the pride with which his father later told him about the speech by William Temple, the Archbishop of Canterbury, delivered in the House of Lords in March 1943, denouncing Allied procrastination and inaction in the face of the Nazis’ mass slaughter of European Jewry. “We stand at the bar of history, humanity, and God,” the archbishop declared.
“My father was moved by that,” says Schama. “The sense that the head of the Church of England would be the one person to say, ‘Don’t look away, don’t do nothing,’ struck him as a symptom of the benevolence and the fit between British history and Jewish history.”
Schama, who is currently working on the third volume of his trilogy “The Story of the Jews,” rejects the idea that Jews do not have a long-term future in Britain, as well as comparisons with the 1930s. There is no “horrible, intimidating, crazed popular antisemitism” backed and encouraged by the state, as was the case in Nazi Germany. Britain’s King Charles III meets members of the community during a visit to Heaton Park Hebrew Congregation synagogue in Crumpsall, north Manchester, on October 20, 2025. (Chris Jackson / POOL / AFP)
And, he says, there continue to be “moments of fantastic hope” for the community. By coincidence, on the day of the Golders Green arson attack, it was announced that King Charles is to become a patron of the Community Security Trust, which monitors antisemitism and protects Jewish synagogues, schools, and other institutions.
“It was an incredible thing that the king accepted the patronage [of the CST]; that’s exactly what was needed,” Schama says.
Equal collective rights for all nations within the state. That the advocates of this system didn’t call it “nationalism” is mostly irrelevant. Jewish autonomy as envisioned by Medem and others on the Jewish left would essentially mean the following, in practice: Jewish governing bodies running what they called cultural affairs and institutions. This included education.Douglas Murray: The rise and fall of Tariq Ramadan
In a world built around the ideas of Medem-like autonomists, either Yiddish schools would be publicly funded or Jewish governing bodies would be given the power to tax all the Jews, and only the Jews, to pay for these and other institutions.
Bundist theorists weren’t assimilationist—Medem himself seems to have conceived of assimilation as a nefarious capitalist plot of some sort. Jewish autonomy was a mainstream idea among Jewish leftists just as much as it was among those who eventually became known as “rightist.” Socialist Jewish writers and thinkers envisioned a sort of Zionism-lite—with the key difference being that it would apply in the Diaspora.
Let me simplify this. If I were to live under Jabotinsky’s idea of Jewish autonomy, I would be governed by Jews in the Land of Israel—if I chose to move there. But under Medem’s idea, I would be governed by Jews in America (though also by a secular national government). Rather than pay synagogue dues to the shul of my choice, I’d most likely be paying an annual Jew tax.
The triumph of Zionism over Bundism maximized Jewish freedom. But it also had the same effect on Jewish security. We’ll never know if the Holocaust would have happened as it happened had there been a State of Israel at the time. Instead, the Holocaust happened during the time of the Bundists. That isn’t to blame them, obviously, for what happened. It is merely to say that Bundism wasn’t a plan for Jewish survival.
Nor was it universalist and assimilationist, two terms that ironically describe the Bund’s biggest modern-day fans. If it was “anti-nationalist,” it was a very funny sort of anti-nationalist. I’ll close with Medem’s own words, translated by Lucy Dawidowicz and published in COMMENTARY in 1950:
“When did I clearly and definitely feel myself to be a Jew? I cannot say, but at the beginning of 1901, when I was arrested for clandestine political activity, the police gave me a form to fill in. In the column ‘Nationality,’ I wrote ‘Jew’.”
This was how I first encountered him in the 2000s. I had helped arrange an English publication of Caroline Fourest’s Frère Tariq, in which the French journalist devastatingly showed how Ramadan spoke out of both sides of his mouth. To Islamic audiences he preached one message, to western audiences he told another.
On the rare occasions he was put on the spot, Ramadan was evasive. In a French TV debate in 2003, Nicolas Sarkozy – not then president – tried to get him to condemn the Islamic teaching that a woman should be stoned to death for adultery. The most he could say was he thought there should be a ‘moratorium’ on stoning for such a crime.
Ordinarily such talk would go down badly. But at around this time the situation in Europe was getting worse. After the 7/7 bombings in London in 2005, Ramadan was one of the Muslims appointed to the UK government’s counter-extremism taskforce. A number of us were sharply critical of this, but nothing seemed able to stop Ramadan´s remorseless rise. In television studios and debating chambers across many countries he and I debated and argued against each other for years. I once called him ‘my closest enemy’. He always came across to me as both fraudulent and cunning.
In 2005 he was made a professor at St Antony’s College, Oxford, and held a teaching position at the university right up until the first sexual assault allegations were made against him more than a decade later.
Why he should ever have been given such a position at Oxford was itself a mystery. One of the people who put him forward for the role once admitted to me that he had no knowledge of Ramadan’s academic history, nor his Islamist track record. So why was he appointed to St Antony’s? The college had always been known as the ‘spook college’. Was it a sign that parts of the Establishment had found a way to embed and elevate Ramadan? As the years went on, and no allegation or misstep seemed to touch him, that certainly became my own suspicion.
As the relationship between Europe and its Muslims came under an ever-greater spotlight it was in the interests of officials, like those in the Blair government, to promote ‘moderate’ Muslim voices – whether they were actually moderate or not. Ramadan fitted a bill. One explanation as to why (until recently) no criticism or exposé of him ever landed is that he was simply too important to certain people.
When the Obama administration came into office in the US, Ramadan had an almost equally gilded ride. Past travel bans relating to his alleged funding of terrorist-linked groups and connections to extremists were forgotten.
From Athens to Oxford, whenever I encountered him I could never understand the entitled, arrogant attitude he projected as he mouthed evasive platitudes. It was as though he knew he was always going to be fine. Life was good to Tariq.
All of this has come to an end due to something I suppose not many people could foresee. But, as I say, the more striking thing about Ramadan is not his fall, but his rise.
He will doubtless appeal the French verdict. But I would be surprised if we hear much from him again. The accounts of his victims tell us too much about him. But the supply and demand problem that created him says an awful lot about us, too.



















