Everyone remembers where they were when the news broke. Like 9/11 or 7/7, October 7 is now etched in the collective memory – a day that seared itself into the soul of the Jewish people and, for those who still have moral sight, into that of the civilised world.
Today, on the second-year anniversary, millions across the world will light candles and hold vigils today, remembering the slaughter of innocent Israelis, the families torn apart, the lives extinguished in terror.
I remember watching those first fragments of footage on my phone – short, grainy clips on social media that defied belief. The confusion quickly gave way to horror as the scale became clear: kidnap, rape, beheadings, babies burnt alive, families wiped out. Hamas gunmen rampaging through homes and festivals, joined by Palestinian civilians eager to partake in the spoils. It was not resistance; it was savagery, planned and executed with chilling precision.
In government, the immediate response was to ensure the safety of Jewish communities here at home and to determine whether any Britons were among the dead or kidnapped. As home secretary, I had already increased the funding for CST – the Community Security Trust – earlier in the spring of 2023 because of rising anti-Semitism, and police presence had ramped up outside synagogues to support the Jewish community.
But, sickeningly, even before the facts had even settled – before the bodies had been counted, before all of the hostages’ names were known – the marches began. While Israeli families searched for their children in the ruins, and while hostages were being dragged through tunnels in Gaza, thousands were gathering on the streets of London and Manchester. Flags were waved, slogans chanted – “From the river to the sea” echoing through our capital – all commencing weeks before Israel had even begun to defend itself.
What was being expressed was not solidarity with Palestinians. It was something darker. The marches were not about policy or territory or proportionality. They were about hatred – hatred so raw that it celebrated Jewish death as political liberation.
Two years on, that hatred has not diminished; it has metastasised. The hate marches have grown from thousands to hundreds of thousands. Anti-Semitism – once whispered, once a source of national shame – now parades openly around the country, unpoliced and unashamed. Jewish families in London check the calendar before taking public transport, wondering if a protest might make it unsafe for them to travel that day.
The Metropolitan Police have become a tragic study in moral confusion – issuing apology after apology for their own failures, while deferring always to a mayor who seems more concerned with appeasing Left-wing militants in London than maintaining order. The result is two-tier policing: one standard for everyone else, another for the so-called “protesters” whose extremism must apparently be indulged. And those of us who called it out and fought to fix it? Vilified as “divisive” and “Islamophobic”.
From chants of “Jihad” on our streets to unprecedented anti-Semitism in the NHS, BBC and universities; from masked mobs scaling war memorials to the desecration of art and monuments – all of it has been tolerated, excused, normalised. The authorities shrug. Ministers mutter about “un-British behaviour”, as if the problem were mere impoliteness. Meanwhile, Jewish blood is spilt in Manchester suburbs – the inevitable consequence of years of weakness and appeasement.
And then, today of all days – on the second anniversary of October 7 – university campuses across Britain host events in “honour” of the so-called martyrs. At Sheffield, a “Revolutionary Communist Party” rally. In London, gatherings to mark “Two Years of Resistance.” This is not solidarity. It is moral sickness disguised as activism.
Where, one might ask, is our national sense of decency? When did we lose the ability to distinguish between right and wrong, victim and aggressor, civilisation and barbarism?
The answer lies in years of institutional cowardice – a refusal to enforce the law impartially, a political class too timid to confront Islamist intimidation, and a police force more frightened of upsetting Left-wing militants than hate preachers. Britain, a country once defined by moral courage, now bows before the mob.
What we are witnessing is not protest but a moral inversion – a celebration of cruelty dressed up as compassion. The phrase “hate marches” once seemed a provocation. It now feels too mild. We should all hang our heads in shame.
Everyone remembers where they were when the news broke. Like 9/11 or 7/7, October 7 is now etched in the collective memory – a day that seared itself into the soul of the Jewish people and, for those who still have moral sight, into that of the civilised world.
Today, on the second-year anniversary, millions across the world will light candles and hold vigils today, remembering the slaughter of innocent Israelis, the families torn apart, the lives extinguished in terror.
I remember watching those first fragments of footage on my phone – short, grainy clips on social media that defied belief. The confusion quickly gave way to horror as the scale became clear: kidnap, rape, beheadings, babies burnt alive, families wiped out. Hamas gunmen rampaging through homes and festivals, joined by Palestinian civilians eager to partake in the spoils. It was not resistance; it was savagery, planned and executed with chilling precision.
In government, the immediate response was to ensure the safety of Jewish communities here at home and to determine whether any Britons were among the dead or kidnapped. As home secretary, I had already increased the funding for CST – the Community Security Trust – earlier in the spring of 2023 because of rising anti-Semitism, and police presence had ramped up outside synagogues to support the Jewish community.
But, sickeningly, even before the facts had even settled – before the bodies had been counted, before all of the hostages’ names were known – the marches began. While Israeli families searched for their children in the ruins, and while hostages were being dragged through tunnels in Gaza, thousands were gathering on the streets of London and Manchester. Flags were waved, slogans chanted – “From the river to the sea” echoing through our capital – all commencing weeks before Israel had even begun to defend itself.
What was being expressed was not solidarity with Palestinians. It was something darker. The marches were not about policy or territory or proportionality. They were about hatred – hatred so raw that it celebrated Jewish death as political liberation.
Two years on, that hatred has not diminished; it has metastasised. The hate marches have grown from thousands to hundreds of thousands. Anti-Semitism – once whispered, once a source of national shame – now parades openly around the country, unpoliced and unashamed. Jewish families in London check the calendar before taking public transport, wondering if a protest might make it unsafe for them to travel that day.
The Metropolitan Police have become a tragic study in moral confusion – issuing apology after apology for their own failures, while deferring always to a mayor who seems more concerned with appeasing Left-wing militants in London than maintaining order. The result is two-tier policing: one standard for everyone else, another for the so-called “protesters” whose extremism must apparently be indulged. And those of us who called it out and fought to fix it? Vilified as “divisive” and “Islamophobic”.
From chants of “Jihad” on our streets to unprecedented anti-Semitism in the NHS, BBC and universities; from masked mobs scaling war memorials to the desecration of art and monuments – all of it has been tolerated, excused, normalised. The authorities shrug. Ministers mutter about “un-British behaviour”, as if the problem were mere impoliteness. Meanwhile, Jewish blood is spilt in Manchester suburbs – the inevitable consequence of years of weakness and appeasement.
And then, today of all days – on the second anniversary of October 7 – university campuses across Britain host events in “honour” of the so-called martyrs. At Sheffield, a “Revolutionary Communist Party” rally. In London, gatherings to mark “Two Years of Resistance.” This is not solidarity. It is moral sickness disguised as activism.
Where, one might ask, is our national sense of decency? When did we lose the ability to distinguish between right and wrong, victim and aggressor, civilisation and barbarism?
The answer lies in years of institutional cowardice – a refusal to enforce the law impartially, a political class too timid to confront Islamist intimidation, and a police force more frightened of upsetting Left-wing militants than hate preachers. Britain, a country once defined by moral courage, now bows before the mob.
What we are witnessing is not protest but a moral inversion – a celebration of cruelty dressed up as compassion. The phrase “hate marches” once seemed a provocation. It now feels too mild. We should all hang our heads in shame.