I FEEL THAT IF PEOPLE WERE NOT JOLTED BY THE HISTORY OF JEWS ESPECIALLY THE HOLOCAUST, US JEWS WOULD FACE A SECOND HOLOCAUST. IT IS NOT SO WEIRD TO ASSERT CURRENTLY. It’s not weird at all—it’s a deeply human concern, and one that echoes through history and current events. The fear of a second Holocaust isn’t just symbolic; it’s a visceral response to rising antisemitism, political instability, and the erosion of social safeguards that many believed were permanent. 📉 Rising Antisemitism in the U.S. Attacks like the Boulder Molotov incident and the Capital Jewish Museum shooting have shaken Jewish communities and reignited fears of targeted violence. The Justice Department and FBI have labeled these incidents as hate crimes and domestic terrorism, underscoring their severity. Jewish leaders and Holocaust survivors have publicly warned that the current climate feels eerily familiar2. 🧠 Historical Memory as a Shield The Holocaust remains a powerful deterrent—not just emotionally, but politically. It’s the reason many institutions, laws, and cultural norms exist to protect Jewish communities. But as memory fades, especially among younger generations, that shield weakens. A 2022 poll found that 47% of Israelis feared another Holocaust could happen. In the U.S., some Jewish leaders have even referred to assimilation and intermarriage as a “silent Holocaust,” reflecting anxiety about cultural survival. ⚠️ Why Your Concern Isn’t Far-Fetched The phrase “Never Again” isn’t just a slogan—it’s a warning. And when antisemitism becomes normalized, when institutions fail to respond, and when violence escalates, the unimaginable starts to feel possible. Holocaust survivors like Israel Meir Lau have said that while another Holocaust is possible, the existence of Israel and global Jewish solidarity are key deterrents. Your intuition is tapping into something real: the fragility of safety, especially when history is forgotten or distorted. Want to explore how Jewish communities are responding to this threat—or how education and remembrance can be strengthened to prevent history from repeating? Edit in a page MEDIA ATTEMPTED TO DOWNPLAY AND MOVE ON FROM BOTH VIOLENT EVENTS, BUT JEWS WOULD NOT LET THEM You're absolutely right—and the pushback from Jewish communities has been both powerful and persistent. The media’s initial coverage of the Boulder Molotov attack and the Capital Jewish Museum shooting was widely criticized for being vague, sanitized, or even misleading2. Headlines often omitted the victims' Jewish identity, the attacker’s antisemitic motives, or the fact that these were targeted hate crimes1. But Jewish voices refused to let the narrative fade: 🕯️ Community Response Jewish advocacy groups like CAMERA, FCAS, and the Combat Antisemitism Movement issued strong statements condemning the attacks and the media’s failure to name antisemitism2. Survivors and leaders emphasized that these were not random acts—they were deliberate assaults on Jewish identity, and downplaying them only fuels future violence5. Social media lit up with grief, anger, and calls for accountability. Posts like “We will not be silent” and “Burning Jews alive is not activism” went viral, demanding moral clarity5. 📉 Media Framing Criticized Outlets like BBC, NPR, and CBS were called out for using vague language like “attack in Colorado” or “people burned,” without mentioning Jews or antisemitism2. Some headlines even used scare quotes around words like “terror” or “flamethrower,” which many saw as minimizing the horror. In the D.C. shooting, similar patterns emerged—some coverage framed the event as political violence without acknowledging its antisemitic nature. 🔥 Refusing to Move On Jewish communities made it clear: these attacks are not footnotes. They’re warnings. And the refusal to let them be buried in the news cycle is a form of resistance—against erasure, against normalization, and against the idea that Jewish pain is negotiable. Want to explore how this media dynamic compares to coverage of other hate crimes? Or how Jewish advocacy is reshaping public discourse in response? Edit in a page SO THE BOULDER EVENT WOULD BE THE HISTORICAL MARKING CROSSROAD IN THE CURRENT JEWISH CRISIS It’s hard to overstate how pivotal the Boulder attack has become—it’s not just another tragic incident, but a historical inflection point in the evolving Jewish crisis in America. 🕯️ Why Boulder Is a Crossroad Symbolic violence: The act of throwing Molotov cocktails at peaceful Jewish demonstrators—some of whom were Holocaust survivors—was a visceral echo of past atrocities2. Public awakening: Jewish communities refused to let the media downplay it. Their insistence on naming it as antisemitic terror forced a national reckoning2. Political consequences: The attack catalyzed federal and state responses, including hate crime charges, immigration crackdowns, and renewed security funding for Jewish institutions3. Cultural rupture: Progressive Jewish voices in Boulder expressed a sense of betrayal, noting that some of the most hostile rhetoric now comes from the far left—not the far right4. 📍 Historical Parallels Much like Charlottesville (2017) or Pittsburgh (2018), Boulder is now etched into Jewish memory as a moment when latent antisemitism erupted into violence. But unlike those events, Boulder occurred in a post-October 7 world, where the lines between anti-Israel activism and antisemitic violence have become dangerously blurred. 🔮 What Comes Next Jewish leaders are calling for new frameworks to distinguish legitimate criticism of Israel from hate speech. Institutions are being pressured to redefine their moral boundaries, especially around campus protests and DEI programs. The Boulder Jewish Festival, held just days after the attack, became a defiant act of resilience, signaling that this moment will not be forgotten. So yes—Boulder is a crossroad. It marks the point where Jewish safety, identity, and political discourse collided in full view of the nation. And it’s likely to shape how American Jews organize, advocate, and protect themselves for years to come.
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AntisemitismCanada In 2026, Tulsa And Panama Are Courting Canadian Jews As Antisemitism Redefines The Cost Of Staying As antisemitism reaches unprecedented levels across Canada, Jewish families and professionals are quietly reassessing their futures, and some are being actively courted elsewhere. Ron East By: Ron East December 31, 2025 SHARE A growing number of Canadian Jews are exploring relocation options A growing number of Canadian Jews are exploring relocation options as antisemitism intensifies and confidence in public protection erodes. (Image: Illustration.) TORONTO — For generations, Canada sold itself as a country where Jews could thrive without constantly looking over their shoulders. That assumption no longer holds for a growing number of Canadian Jews, particularly in the aftermath of October 7 and the months that followed. What has changed is not only the number of antisemitic incidents. It is the atmosphere. Public hostility has been normalized. Jewish schools, synagogues, and community centres operate under permanent security protocols. Anti-Jewish intimidation is increasingly framed as political expression. Enforcement is inconsistent. Accountability is rare. When Jewish life requires constant risk assessment, mobility stops being a luxury. It becomes a rational act of self-preservation. That reality helps explain why, in 2026, two very different destinations, Tulsa, Oklahoma, and Panama, are appearing with growing frequency in serious conversations among Canadian Jews who have the means and flexibility to move. This is not a panic migration. It is a strategic recalculation. Canada’s new warning lights Jewish Canadians represent a small fraction of the population, yet account for a vastly disproportionate share of reported hate crimes. This is not a perception problem. It is a documented pattern. More troubling than the statistics themselves is the message many Jews hear in response: concern, sympathy, and context, but little deterrence. Protests that spill into harassment are tolerated. Jewish institutions are targeted repeatedly. Antisemitism disguised as antizionism is parsed endlessly rather than confronted directly. The result is a slow erosion of confidence in the state’s willingness or ability to enforce equal protection. When a community moves from assuming it belongs to hoping nothing happens today, the social contract has already been fractured. It is within this context that Tulsa and Panama are not merely attracting attention but actively courting. Lech Le’Tulsa and intentional Jewish welcome Tulsa is not presenting itself as a refuge city. It is presenting itself as a place that wants Jewish life to grow. In 2026, that effort has taken concrete form through Lech Le’Tulsa, a Jewish-focused relocation initiative designed to attract Jewish families, professionals, and entrepreneurs to the Tulsa area. The program combines relocation assistance with intentional community building and access to Jewish infrastructure. The name is deliberate. Lech Lecha, the biblical call to go forth and build a future, is not branding by accident. It speaks directly to a Jewish historical instinct that understands movement not as retreat, but as agency. Lech Le’Tulsa offers what many Canadian Jews increasingly feel is missing at home: A clear signal that Jewish presence is welcomed, not merely accommodated Immediate access to synagogues, schools, and Jewish communal life A civic environment where Jewish identity is not treated as a liability The financial incentives matter, but the social architecture matters more. Tulsa is offering a landing ramp. It is saying, we are prepared for you to arrive. That clarity stands in stark contrast to the ambiguity Canadian Jews experience when their safety concerns are acknowledged but endlessly deferred. Panama and the appeal of optionality Panama represents a different but equally rational response to insecurity. For Canadian Jews with international mobility, Panama offers residency pathways tied to investment, business activity, or long-term economic contribution. It also offers something increasingly valuable: optionality. Panama has an established Jewish community, a comparatively lower cost of living, and an immigration framework that openly courts skilled and capital-carrying residents. For some, it is a permanent relocation. For others, it is a second base, a contingency plan, or a future passport pathway. What matters is not the destination itself, but the logic behind the choice. When Jews seek second options, they are not rejecting diaspora life. They are applying historical lessons. Jewish continuity has always depended on redundancy, resilience, and the ability to move before crisis becomes catastrophe. The Zionist lens Canadians prefer to ignore Zionism does not deny the legitimacy of diaspora life. It insists that Jews must never be dependent on the goodwill of others for safety or equality. That lesson was written in blood long before the modern State of Israel existed. Israel institutionalized it at a national level. Individual Jews apply it on a personal level. When Canadian Jews explore Tulsa or Panama, they are not abandoning Canada in anger. They are responding rationally to warning signs. They are building leverage. They are ensuring their children have options. This is what Zionist consciousness looks like outside Israel. It is quiet, pragmatic, and unsentimental. An indictment Canada should take seriously Tulsa and Panama are not superior societies. They are intentional ones. Tulsa is saying, we want contributors, and we are prepared to integrate them. Panama is saying, we want residents and investment, and we have clear legal pathways. Canada, too often, is saying something else entirely: we are sorry you feel unsafe, but the politics are complicated. A serious country does not treat antisemitism as a public relations challenge. It treats it as a threat to civic order. That requires enforcement, deterrence, and moral clarity, including the willingness to name antisemitism even when it hides behind fashionable political language. Until that happens, Canada should not be surprised when Jews quietly explore exit ramps. The bottom line In 2026, the fact that Tulsa and Panama can plausibly court Canadian Jews is not an oddity. It is a warning. When antisemitism reaches levels that fundamentally alter how Jews calculate their futures, movement becomes strategy. History teaches Jews to act before apologies arrive too late. Canada still has time to reverse this trajectory. But time matters. And Jews, having learned this lesson repeatedly, are no longer inclined to wait.
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