50 years of fighting antisemitism with karate

Fifty Years of Defending Myself 

In just one week, I found myself in two vastly different situations: reliving the glory of my youth on a karate mat in Australia and then taking cover from missiles at home in Israel. These moments, fifty years apart, are connected by a single, powerful idea—defending oneself. Whether on the mat, during a protest, or under the Iron Dome, defense has been a constant thread throughout my life. It goes beyond mere survival; it’s about standing up for values, history, and hope.

Karate: Lessons in Values and Resilience

I began my journey with Karate in 1972 when I was thirteen years old, after my first fist fight defending myself (and the honor of the Jewish people) against the local antisemite gang leader Alen Sykes, nick-named Psycho. It was then that my Egyptian Jewish grandmother gave me a 1-year subscription to karate lessons as a barmitzvah present. She vividly remembered the anti-semitic violence in Egypt in the 1950’s when Jews were expelled overnight and she remembers the stories her parents told her about the pogroms in Odessa, where her parents fled to Egypt.  In her practical wisdom, my grandmother advised me:

Do a sport that could come in handy, as you never know when there will be a pogrom around the corner.

My first 5 years I trained under the notorious German instructor Sensei Frank Nowak known for his German/Japanese discipline. For the following 45 years I trained under the mentorship of Grandmaster Hirokazu Kanazawa—a true legend in the history of karate who taught me the significance of discipline, harmony and respect.

50th anniversary of Shotokan Karate Australia

Kancho Nobuaki Kanazawa ( son of Grandmaster Hirokazu Kanazawa) , Danny, Shuseki Murakami

Top row, Iranian Hovik, Japanese Master Kanazawa, German Sensei Novak. Middle row- Egyptian Gorgette, Danny Hakim with the afro hairstyle, 1983 Australian team

By 1976, I earned my black belt and soon represented Australia in world championships. I formed strong bonds with my fellow migrant teammates, Hovick Keshishian from Iran, and Gorgette Dyett from Egypt. We trained together for decades, fighting side by side, proudly representing our country and our respective ethnic communities.

Iranian/Australian Hovik Keshishian, Danny Hakim, Egyptian/Australian Georgette Dyett, September 2024

“Karate”, which translates to ’empty hand’ or ‘open hand,’ was never merely about physical combat. It instilled in me respect, self-control, and the importance of measured action. The concept of an ’empty hand’ deeply informs my message: true strength does not come from wielding weapons but from discipline, openness, and meaningful engagement with others. As I reflect on my training, I see how these lessons have shaped my response to the challenges I have faced throughout my life. Just a week after celebrating fifty years of karate in Australia, I found myself defending again—this time in a shelter as missiles from Iran fell over Israel. The situations were different, but the principles remained the same: remain calm, know when to block (with the iron dome), and always be ready to respond.

My First Real Battle: A Campus Protest at Sixteen

My first genuine life threatening confrontation occurred when I was sixteen, during a protest at a university campus in Sydney in 1975. We were twenty Jewish students—mostly high schoolers—gathered on the lawn at Macquarie University, peacefully protesting against a Palestinian student’s speech denying the Holocaust. Without warning, we were attacked by over 150 adults, mostly Palestinian railroad workers wielding sticks, iron bars, and knives. There were no police to protect us, so we had to defend ourselves.

1975 article on the Jewish / Palestinian brawl on Macquarie university campus

The fight was chaotic, and the violence was palpable. One friend had his head split open by an iron bar, while another broke his arm. I was fortunate to escape with minor injuries, but the experience left an indelible mark on me. It was my first encounter with the harsh realities of antisemitic hatred, the fragility of safety, and the necessity of standing up for what is right.  In my recent visit to Australia, news headlines of police officers injured by pro-Palestinian protesters reminded me of how history has a way of repeating itself—often painfully.

Drawing Parallels Between Past and Present

The battles I faced at sixteen resonate strongly today. Protests, rising tensions and the need to protect oneself and one’s community are ongoing challenges. Since October 7 last year, the world around us has become more antisemitic and more violent, but what is important is the way you chose to engage with these challenges.

Zeev Jabotinsky, the ideological founder of the Betar youth movement, taught us the importance of strength and self-defense. He said ” there will only be peace when our enemies lose hope that the Jewish state won’t exist” —yet he also emphasized the need to extend a hand in peace. This philosophy has stayed with me, especially in my current work bringing Jews and Arabs together through sports. I use physical activity not as a tool for conflict but as a means to foster dialogue and build understanding.

In a world filled with conflict, I learned that true strength isn’t about fighting—it’s about knowing when to fight and when to make peace.

From Violence to Building Peace

Today, my goal is not only to defend myself, my family and my country but also to create a future where defense is needed less often through greater understanding and peace building. The values I learned through karate—self-control, respect, and discipline—are the same values I now use to promote dialogue, connection, and peace. In working with moderate Arabs who envision a better future for their children, I’ve found that the principles of karate apply equally in peacemaking as they do in combat: always respect your opponent, stay in control, and be ready—not to attack, but to engage.

Conclusion: The Lessons of Fifty Years

Fifty years later, I am still blocking and countering physical and political attacks from the right and left. But today, I also extend my hand, hoping that one day we will no longer need to defend at all. The nature of the battles may have changed, but the values endure. In a world often fraught with conflict, I choose to believe in the power of defense—not as an end, but as a means to build bridges. Ultimately, true strength lies not just in the ability to fight, but in the willingness to offer peace.