‘My tidal wave of monstrous fury’: Simon Schama on tonight’s Holocaust documentary
There is a moment when Sir Simon Schama looks straight at the camera in his latest documentary – the first to take him to Auschwitz – and it is one of the rawest things ever seen on television.Passover and Antisemitism: Three Chilling Insights
Having come face to face with the horror of what antisemitism can lead to, he cannot hold it in. He admits to a “tidal wave of monstrous fury at everyone. Not just the SS. Not just the Germans. It took hundreds of years of bigger dehumanising hatred to make it conceivable that a whole civilisation ends up in smoke.”
And then comes the kicker as his eyes fill with tears and he shakes with fury. “Pity is what others who aren’t Jews feel. Screw the pity.”
Far away from now-cold furnaces of the death camp, in a Maida Vale café, our most erudite and brilliant historian may look cosy in his thick cardigan as he sips decaffeinated cappuccino in the weak spring sunshine, but he still feels that anger and he wants to express it.
“My wife thinks I shouldn’t have said it,” he says when I ask him about the “screw pity” comment. “But I felt very strongly about it. Saying sorry is no good. Your licensed pity should have functioned at the Bermuda Conference in 1943 [when American and British leaders decided not to allow more desperate Jews into either the US or Mandatory Palestine]. It should have functioned by trying to get the parents as well as the children of the Kindertransport out. It should have functioned by letting us go somewhere safe after the war.”
Schama has his enormous reputation behind him and says that means that “when you get to 80 years old, you get quite feisty. Yes, you are terrified that you will wake up and something will have dropped off your body, but on the other hand, you do get sort of weirdly liberated.”
As he looks back in anger, he turns to some of the historians who documented the Holocaust as it was happening and whom he features in his one-off BBC film Simon Schama: The Road to Auschwitz. Historians such as Emanuel Ringelblum, who led the secret Oyneg Shabbos group in the Warsaw Ghetto which collected information about life as a doomed Jew for future posterity.
“History is not just old stuff, it is not a romantic distraction of the past,” says Schama, who feels the echoes of history screaming louder and louder at him. “If you go back ten years ago, the general view, which I probably would have shared, was that, as the survivors die, Auschwitz and the Holocaust will become history. In other words, it would be available for the kind of cool, forensic analysis like you’d apply to the origins of the First World War or the Black Death or something like that; in a time capsule. But after October 7, and possibly even before with the rise in antisemitism, it sort of left the tomb. It walks and stalks us. It’s not gone. It’s not the past. It’s alive and raving.”
That bigger story of dehumanisation is why the documentary does not start, as you might expect, in Germany with the story of the Nazis but in Lithuania where the Nazi invasion lit the fuse for a bloodlust of murder of Jews by their Lithuanian neighbours. “I have some difficulty with the title of the film – I wanted to call it Against Oblivion. My problem is that for the vast number of people who know anything about the Holocaust, it’s Anne Frank and Auschwitz.
The Exodus from Egypt is the world’s oldest case study in antisemitism. Its lessons are alarmingly relevant today.“Antisemitism is incurable,” says Ryvchin
Pharaoh’s propaganda campaign might seem distant but look a little closer and you’ll see something chilling: the script hasn’t changed much in 3,500 years.
Here are three enduring lessons from the Exodus that can help us better understand the real nature of antisemitism—then and now.
1. Antisemitism Isn’t About the Stated Reasons—It’s About the Jewish Spiritual Threat
Pharaoh didn’t say, “We hate the Jews because they believe in one God” or “They make us uncomfortable because they won’t assimilate.”
No—he claimed the Jews were a national security threat. “The Israelites are becoming too numerous… If war breaks out, they might join our enemies and fight against us” (See Exodus 1:9–10). Really? A group of shepherds and laborers, who had lived peacefully in Goshen for generations, were suddenly a military threat capable of starting a war? This excuse is as flimsy as it sounds.
It was a lie. A pretext. And that’s the first insight: antisemitism rarely presents itself honestly. It hides behind superficial grievances—economic anxiety, political conspiracy, military suspicion - even the idea that Jews are easy scapegoats - but these are fig leaves. The real issue is much deeper.
The deeper truth, as the Torah reveals, and Hitler expressed (I show this in great detail in my book Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Jew?), is that antisemitism is rarely about the superficial reasons given—it’s about the Jews being a spiritual and ideological threat. Hitler said that all of World War II was “ideologically a battle between National Socialism and the Jews.”
The Jews have always posed a spiritual and ideological challenge to the dominant culture. In medieval Europe, Jews were blamed for economic woes, accused of usury or poisoning wells, but the real threat was our stubborn adherence to Torah values. Today, we hear antisemitic tropes about Jewish power or wealth, we see passionate protests against Israeli colonialism and committing genocide, but reasonable people know that the Jews are not the greatest violators of human rights on earth. Whether in ancient Egypt, Nazi Germany, Soviet Russia, or today’s radicalized Islamic world led by the Palestinian Hamas, the accusations shift—but the double standards reveal the underlying discomfort with Jewish values, impact and distinctiveness.
Antisemitism is not your run of the mill racism; it’s about the Jewish soul, a light that refuses to be extinguished, threatening those who want to dwell in spiritual darkness. Jew-hatred, in the end, is not about what Jews do. It’s about what Jews are and what they represent.
Alex Ryvchin, co-chief executive officer of the Executive Council of Australian Jewry, has delivered a powerful speech arguing that antisemitism is “incurable” and that Zionism has failed in its original aim to normalise Jewish existence.
Around 300 people attended the B’nai B’rith annual Human Rights Oration at the Glen Eira Town Hall in Melbourne on Sunday, where Ryvchin also received the 2025 B’nai B’rith Human Rights Award.
Speaking exactly 18 months after the October 7 attacks, Ryvchin challenged conventional approaches to fighting antisemitism.
“After thousands of years, it can no longer be characterised as a defect in reasoning that can be untaught,” he stated.
“We are not ordinary. And we therefore have to accept the feelings this invokes in others.”
When asked by the AJN if his view might be controversial, Ryvchin acknowledged it might be, “particularly for those who want clear and compelling answers and want solutions.”
“I’m not in the business of misleading people and giving them satisfactory statements that make them sleep better at night. I think we have to be honest,” he said.
Ryvchin defined the battle as containing antisemitism rather than eliminating it entirely.
“The fight is not to exterminate antisemitism, reduce it to nothing, because that, in my view, is unachievable,” he told the AJN.
“The battle is to contain it, to push it back out to the peripheries of society and the dark recesses of social media, where it can’t do us harm, because at the moment, for the last 18 months, it has materially affected how Jews in this country live.”





















