A new Europe with the old anti-Semitism

Almost a week after the anti-Semitic attack in Brussels, there are more questions than answers • "How can it be that a young man double parks near the entrance, goes inside, fires 21 shots and leaves without anyone confronting him-"

צילום: AP // Belgium's Foreign Minister Didier Reynders, right, lays flowers at the Jewish Museum in Brussels a day after the deadly shooting

The Jews of Brussels have a hard time feeling safe these days, and they're not the only ones. Almost a week has gone by since the anti-Semitic attack at the Jewish Museum of Belgium in Brussels, but instead of answers, there are only more and more questions. The country's authorities are still helpless regarding the incident, which ended in the murder of four Jews, including an Israeli couple from Tel Aviv, Emanuel and Mira Riva, who were laid to rest in Israel this week. The fact that the murderer -- according to some indications, a professional, cold-blooded assassin -- is still at large definitely adds to the uneasiness. There are almost no leads in the investigation. The only bits of evidence come from on-site security cameras. The camera the killer had strapped to his chest presumably contains more information, but it has not been found.

"Only a mad anti-Semite could carry out a killing spree like that," says Rabbi Shimon Lasker, a Chabad emissary in Brussels. "We've been here for 31 years, and anti-Semitism never reared its head like that. We don't know what's going to happen, but one thing is already clear -- that killing spree could have been prevented." He says that the murderer definitely "did research first. He double-parked, went inside, fired 21 shots -- and then left without anybody stopping him. Not a guard, not a security guard."

Maurice Sosnowski, head of the Jewish community in Brussels, agrees. "The shooting was planned in advance. One cannot improvise a thing like that. There is a great deal of concern in Jewish communities all over Europe."

In the heart of a quiet, upscale neighborhood

It was an ordinary Saturday, even pleasant and sunny. The killer's Audi was parked at the entrance to the Jewish Museum, and he went inside unhindered. The security cameras show that he was wearing a dark cap and holding a Kalashnikov rifle.

In another image, he is seen carrying two bags. According to some reports, he fired at the Rivas in the entrance area, continued to the reception desk and shot a museum volunteer to death. He then shot Alexandre Strens, who later died of his wounds in the hospital. Then he fled in the Audi. "He did it all in less than a minute. The perpetrator acted completely in cold blood," a spokeswoman for the Belgian public prosecutor's office said at a press conference the day after the incident, emphasizing that these and other pieces of evidence show that terrorism was the motive.

The museum's security measures have been the object of sharp criticism this week. While the level of alert in many Jewish institutions in Belgium was raised after the incident, community leaders saw that as too little, too late. "How can it be that a young man double-parks near the entrance, goes inside, fires 21 shots and leaves without anyone confronting him? There was no gun battle, no attempt at contact, nobody inspected him. We must receive answers."

Some reports of the attack mentioned that the museum had not been chosen as a random target. The locals confirm this. "I've been here many times," says an Israeli who came to the site after Shabbat ended and asked not to be identified. "This is a prestigious area, a quiet neighborhood. There is no guard who checks people like there is in Israel. There isn't even a gate. There was talk about that after the attack, but we were told that security was based mainly on undercover activity because they did not want to encourage a feeling of fear. When I heard that Jews had been killed here, I felt it was important to come and light a memorial candle at the entrance."

After the attack, the Jews of the area had more to worry about. "Over the past few days, we have noticed a sharp increase in threats to Jewish communities all over Europe," says Olivier Rafowicz, an emissary of the Jewish National Fund. "There have been two other anti-Semitic incidents since the attack at the Jewish Museum. Two Jewish brothers were attacked as they were leaving synagogue in a Paris suburb, and anti-Jewish graffiti was spray-painted on the wall of a synagogue in Marseilles, in southern France."

But anyone who is keeping track of the spread of anti-Semitism in Europe is not all that surprised at what happened. "The writing in blood was on the wall," a high-ranking official in one of Belgium's Jewish communities says. "It was only a matter of time and place until incitement led to the killing of innocent people just because they were Jews."

This might be called "the new anti-Semitism." It often starts with unending incitement on the Internet and articles filled with lies about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

The ones responsible for the incitement are members of pro-Palestinian or anti-Israeli non-profit organizations all over Europe.

Efi Stenzler, the world chairman of the JNF, confirms that leaders of his organization are seeing more and more reports about attacks on its emissaries and friends abroad, particularly in Europe. "There are demonstrations in front of JNF offices all over the world, violent demonstrations in front of conferences and false reports, especially on the Internet, that create incitement," he says.

As fears rose, the JNF held a conference on the subject in Paris several months ago that was dedicated mainly to supporting French Jewry. The conference was initiated by the JNF, with cooperation from Israel's tourism, defense, and agricultural ministries.

I was part of the press delegation to the conference. Right after we landed, the security officer told us to "keep a low profile" and avoid speaking Hebrew. The religious members of the group were asked to remove their skullcaps, and security guards accompanied us back to the hotel from Friday night dinner.

"I grew up in France," says Gael Greenwald, deputy chairman of the JNF. "When I was a boy, I wasn't afraid to wear a skullcap. Today I walk around here with a hat. It's not pleasant to walk around France wearing a skullcap. Of course, it doesn't mean that every Jew who goes out into the street is going to be attacked right away, but the atmosphere is not friendly. It's like that in many places in Europe."

Despite the high degree of anxiety that the topic arouses, Greenwald prefers not to use expressions such as "a bad period" or "a dark period" in Europe. "On the one hand, we are seeing waves of anti-Semitism, and a desire on the part of more and more Jews to immigrate to Israel," he says. "On the other, we are doing everything possible to give those Jews who continue living here a feeling that we are with them and will continue to take care of them."

He believes that this is the reason why synagogues, like the other Jewish centers, have a level of security that an Israeli or American embassy could take pride in. It includes security cameras, fences, concealment of Jewish symbols and, of course, professional security guards.

One of the political activists, a Jewish man who immigrated to Israel from France, reveals a little of the way that anti-Semitic discourse is gradually taking over the area. "There are many cases of violence and friction that are not reported at all. There are very large demonstrations, on matters that have nothing to do with Israel or the Jews, but all that's necessary is a handful of people who are anti-Semitic or anti-Israel to join and turn them into huge demonstrations against Israel and against the Jews," he says.

As evidence, he gives a fresh example of the recent period: a large demonstration against French President Francois Hollande that suddenly shifted its direction, turning into anti-Semitic cries against Israel. "On International Holocaust Remembrance Day," the activist says, "dozens of activists marched in the streets of Paris, calling on Jews to leave France."

An increasing feeling of vulnerability

A comparison between the incident in Brussels and the shooting attack that took place at the Or Hatorah School in Toulouse seems inevitable. Moti Cristal, an expert in negotiations and crisis management who has worked with Jewish communities abroad in recent years, tries to put his finger on the differences between what just happened and what happened two years ago. He says the incident in Brussels is a wake-up call, in the wake of which many communities in Europe will begin making better preparations for crisis.

"The question is asked: Why wasn't the Toulouse incident a seminal event from this perspective, while the one in Brussels was-" he says, and answers: "There are a few points. The fact that the murderer is still at large, the fact that this is a cultural site that is open to the public, and not another Jewish school. The footage shows a great deal of professionalism, which raises the feeling of vulnerability. There is no doubt that this also has to do with the elections of the wave of extremism that is sweeping Europe."

"The Jews need to have the ability and the support. In other words, what we need is Jewish leadership that's capable of making decisions about preparedness and resource allocation," Cristal says.

Should the State of Israel be involved-

"In general, the Jews are saying now, 'Israelis, don't interfere. We need to do this on our own.' Because it's a European problem, not a Jewish or Israeli one. It's my problem, as a Belgian citizen, that I have no security in my museum or in my school, or in my public space. Israel should not stick its nose in anywhere that people are not asking it for help."

"If I had gone to work as usual, I would have died instead"

Until the communities reassess the situation, the wound at the Jewish Museum in Brussels is still fresh. This is particularly true of Rika, 72, one of the workers there, a Jewish woman who was supposed to be at work the day of the shooting, but did not arrive that day.

Dominique Chabrier, a French volunteer who had arrived in Brussels only two months before, replaced Rika that day -- and was killed. A miracle for one person turned into a terrible tragedy for the other. "Two days before it happened, I told the museum that I wouldn't be able to come on Saturday because I wasn't feeling well," Rika says, "so Dominique replaced me. If I had gone to work as usual, I would have died instead of Dominique. It's been almost a week, and that thought still hasn't left me."

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