Out of the Shtetl, and into the Arena

In the last 12 months, Jewish people have awoken across the world. While Israelis continue to fight for their existential survival, Jews in the Diaspora, in the face of soaring rates of antisemitism, wrestle with the destabilisation of their physical and cultural safety and their sense of belonging. (And also, was everyone just pretending to like us before October 7?)

Our parasympathetic systems remain overstimulated most hours of each day, as we steel ourselves for constant updates of beepers, rockets or grim news of fallen young soldiers. Closer to home, many of us remain hypervigilant to a never-ending stream of WhatsApp messages sharing a hateful chant heard at a local rally or the latest tweet by a Jew hating, native D-grade celebrity. (But it’s not all bad news – equally shared among us are “wins” that we celebrate– the latest terrorist eliminated by the IDF, an op ed by a prominent Australian leader calling out antisemitism, or our kids jubilantly dancing with Israeli flags at a bar mitzvah.)

In the face of this indisputable tsunami, I’ve observed two discordant responses in Diaspora Jews: those that seek shelter in the shtetl or those that armor up in the arena.

Like us, there are animal species that retreat and hunker down to ride out a storm, protecting their vulnerable members in burrows or nests. Others, like Pangolins, tortoises and turtles, have hard plates on their body to provide a place to hide in when they feel threatened. Similarly, deer, zebras and wild beasts cluster together and use the herd majority to survive, relying on collective eyes and heads to keep vigilance against predators.

There is another type of survival mechanisms that animals exhibit that is relevant here –frogs for example, inflate themselves with air to appear as large as possible and display brightly colored markings and eyespots to intimidate predators. I can’t help but smile at this last example, reminding me of nearly every single Jew I know who is now adorned with Magen Davids, Bring them Home pins and other Zionist paraphernalia.

No doubt this analogy from the wild will resonate for many of us, particularly during the rawness of the early weeks and months following October 7. In this context, the global move of Jews retreating inwards to the safety of community seemed an almost instinctive response to the sudden, brutal attacks in Israel as well as the subsequent expressions of Jew hate unleashed worldwide. It was understandable and indeed necessary that we sought solace in each other to process our collective shock, grief and pain. But twelve months on, we cannot afford to stay bunkered down. There is too much work to do – it’s time to join our champions and armor up in the arena.

The arena. A word that conjures images of battle, bravery and bloodshed. In Paris, 1910, Theodore Roosevelt vividly contrasted the passive armchair critic with the courageous gladiator in his now famous analogy:  “The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly;…who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds…who spends himself in a worthy cause; who…knows in the end the triumph of high achievement.”

A century later, contemporary social scientist Brene Brown paraphrased Roosevelt’s words: “I want to be in the arena. When we make the choice to dare greatly, we sign up to get our asses kicked. We can choose courage or we can choose comfort, but we can’t have both. A lot of cheap seats in the arena are filled with people who never venture onto the floor. They just hurl mean-spirited criticisms and put-downs from a safe distance.”

This so aptly embodies the contest we now face. The hateful, hollow voices spewing mistruths by those sitting in the cheap seats must be drowned out by our steady, clear voices bellowing in unison. We know our truth and we know it well; however the acuteness of this moment demands from us unwavering courage to enter the battleground of good vs evil.

Despite the discomfort that Brown acknowledges, there is simply too much at stake for us to stand idly by. Every single one of us must respond with courage and conviction to the multi fronted threat before us–physically, spiritually, politically, culturally, economically and psychologically. We can no longer be passive onlookers or expect others to do the work for us – we all have skin in this game.

You don’t have to look hard to find some incredible, fearless fighters who stepped into the arena even on October 7 (and many before then too), even to the detriment of their careers and livelihoods. In particular, advocates such as Noa Tishby, Eve Barlow, Montana Tucker and closer to home, musician Deborah Conway and even friends outside the community like indigenous ex-Olympian Nova Peris have fiercely stood their ground for the Jewish people. These activists, coupled with the emergence of bands of Jewish volunteers across the world, are leading the way using their platforms to counter mistruths and call out voices spreading hate. But just like in the wild, strength comes in numbers.

In 2024, every Jew has a duty to use their voice, ensuring their community remains strong, vibrant and proud, which in turn, will bolster our capacity to support our Israeli brothers and sisters. How this looks will be different for each of us: it might be using our social media platforms, calling talk back radio, supporting political leaders who have proven to be vocal allies, sharing our lived experiences with non-Jewish colleagues at work, or stepping up to leadership roles and ensuring Jewish voices are heard in boardrooms, organisations and club houses.

Equally, we must also be actively engaged with our community. Many communal organisations are still overburdened and under resourced and need our backing to amplify their work within the community and beyond. Donate as much talent, treasure and time as you can to these bodies, and to Israel.

One year on, we cannot afford to remain for one more moment curled up in our shells or burrowed away. We need to energise each other to advocate effectively against the torrent of Jew hate by any and all means available to us – our dollars, our spoken words, our letters, our social capital, our votes and our own spheres of influence and platforms. It’s high time to get out of the shtetl and enter the arena. For Theodore Roosevelt also said, “in any moment of decision, the worst thing you can do is nothing.”