Tel Aviv as Signal Hub: When Solidarity Becomes a Market of Intensity
The image is unforgettable. Tommy Robinson — a figure long associated with far-right extremism, racism, and street violence in Britain — stands in Tel Aviv, applauded by a crowd of Israelis. He thanks them for their courage. He denounces Muslims. He is introduced by an Israeli government minister.
This is not a misunderstanding. It is a message.
A message that hatred is no longer a liability — it is a brand. That those who once incited violence against minorities in Europe now claim to defend Jews in the Middle East. That memory itself is for sale.
Solidarity, once rooted in shared suffering and ethical clarity, is being transformed. Into performance. Into marketing. Into spectacle. We are told that Robinson’s presence is about freedom of speech. But whose speech? And at whose expense?
In the same week, Israeli military actions resume in Gaza. Ceasefires falter. Civilians suffer. The world scrolls through headlines, unsure what is old and what is new. And somewhere in that blur, a new kind of politics takes root — one that thrives on conflict, that feeds on outrage, and that trades pain for attention.
This is not about left or right. It is about reality being reprogrammed through emotion, repetition, and noise. When hatred becomes a spectacle, and violence becomes background content, what does it mean to be human? What does it mean to be Jewish?
We have always asked the world to remember. Remember the ghettos. Remember the silence. Remember the trains. But do we still remember what made those things possible? Do we remember how quickly fear becomes law? How easily contempt becomes policy?
Are we now so eager for allies that we accept even those who would, under slightly different conditions, turn on us again?
When Jews stand beside men like Robinson, we send a message to the world — and to ourselves. That we are willing to forget. That we are willing to be used. That the only thing that matters is whose side you’re on — not what values you hold.
But hatred has no side. It only moves. It shifts. Today it wears a flag with a Star of David. Tomorrow it will wear something else. It always finds a new mask.
So we must ask: who are we becoming? What do we stand for, if we applaud those who made a career of spitting on dignity?
Jews of the world: the danger is not at the gates. It is already on the stage.
It waves your flag. It speaks your language. And it calls itself your friend.
Do not mistake applause for protection.
Do not mistake provocation for courage.
Do not mistake memory for history.
— Yochanan Schimmelpfennig
Possest Institute
