We cannot afford to disappear

Recently switched radio stations. I was tired of driving to work yelling at the anti-Israel coverage. So, I replaced ABC NewsRadio, Australia’s national public broadcaster, with a dedicated sports channel. I needed a break.

Nearly three years after October 7, many Jews in Australia – and across the diaspora – are similarly tired and a little beaten down by constantly having to combat antisemitism and defend Israel.

Social media posts. News articles. Community events. It has been exhausting.

I was recently talking to a friend who has been at the forefront of the struggle. They confided in me that they are tired.

They have put everything into the effort. And they are not sure they have made much of a difference. They are burnt out.

Their comment made me stop and think. What if, as tired as we all are, we are only at the beginning?

What if the surge in antisemitism and antizionism that we have experienced over the past few years is only going to get worse? That might sound pessimistic, but it is not unrealistic.

Political developments in the United States are concerning. Across parts of Europe, demographic and political trends have already created increasingly difficult environments for Jewish communities.

Yes, following the Bondi massacre, we have a Royal Commission underway that may address some of the challenges we have had to contend with since October 7.

However, history suggests that increased political polarisation, economic dislocation and inequality rarely end well for the Jews.

We may be tired. And legitimately so given how relentless the campaign against us has been.

Nevertheless, we cannot afford to disengage. We cannot afford to pull back. We each need to stay actively involved – each according to his or her capacity.

For some, that may be continuing to write letters to the editor or batting back comments on Facebook. For others, it may be as simple as wearing a Star of David or travelling to Israel – and proudly telling people about it.

The truth is that those who wish to denigrate and harm us show no sign of being any less fanatical or committed to their cause. We have little reason to believe their hostility will simply burn itself out.

When I reflected on my conversation with my activist friend, I think part of the exhaustion comes from us measuring success the wrong way.

We may spend hours on social media reposting compelling content or rebutting the lies. Yet the deluge of antisemitic and anti-Israel material never stops. We rarely feel as though we are making much of a difference. However, I wonder if that is the wrong metric.

That’s not to say that we shouldn’t aim to have a real impact. We want to change people’s opinions – whether it’s an anonymous person on X or a high-profile politician or commentator. And I am sure that sometimes we do.

The real goal of our efforts, however, isn’t strictly to win. It is to stay in the fight.

This battle will not be over in a year. We need to accept that we are likely – sadly – in a generational struggle.

It could last for several decades. Indeed, if Jewish history is any guide, it is unfortunately a never-ending struggle despite periods of relative calm.

We must demonstrate that we will not be intimidated: that we will not be cowered into silence when it comes to defending Israel or calling out Jew hatred. And if that comes at a price, then so be it.

We want to fit in. We want to be accepted. We want a quiet life. Yet not at any cost.

Our legacy to the next generation should be this: when our community needed us, we continued to step up. That does not mean living in a state of permanent anger. It means refusing to disappear.

When I spoke to my friend, I could tell that their sense of burnout was real. They have been running so hard for so long that they are genuinely tired. We need to resist the temptation for bravado. We need to accept and admit that we are tired – that we have less energy now than we did one or two years ago.

Sometimes, taking a break is reasonable. Even the most elite military units rotate out of combat zones for R&R – to recharge and refresh. We need to pace ourselves. We need moments of normality, joy and rest. And then we need to return to the work.

That might even mean I will eventually switch back to ABC NewsRadio.

Jason Rose is a Jewish dad and M&A advisor living in Melbourne.