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Edinburgh, 8.30am local time
On waking, I switched on the Israeli news service.
Israel’s north was pounded by more Hezbollah missiles. More Israeli soldiers killed in Gaza. More rallies calling for the Israeli government to accept any deal to bring the hostages home, even stopping the war; we can continue the fight another day, but no hostage lost is ever coming back.
I checked my emails.
https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/c1jlwg8d3lgo
It was time for me to measure the mood on the streets.
Stepping out of the house, I passed the few Palestinian flags that loyal supporters still hang from their windows.
I made my way to Leith, 20 minutes away on the coast, to meet a Jewish friend who lives and works there. For many years, Leith had a down-and-out reputation. Left wing, woke activists moved in. Yuppies followed, bringing money, expensive brands, and renewal.
For the sake of his business and his family, he kept his Jewish identity private. But the situation was not ideal by any means. After complaints, and presumably in a bid to remove distractions from the city during the 2024 Edinburgh Festival, most of the anti-Israel posters were removed. Nonetheless, vestiges have remained.
Apparently local Tory candidate Ian Mcgill, had blue paint splashed on his office facade when he contested anti-semitic and anti Israel activities. Most had been washed off when I passed his office, but smudges remain as testimony to a battle that will surely resurface.
I told my friend of an Arab commentator who emphasised that the West has welcomed-in all those "dregs" of society sidelined by Arab countries. They want to live off the state, introduce Sharia law and seek scapegoats for their troubles. Ludicrously, western democratic countries are importing these troublemakers to be their own next electorate.
My friend pondered a moment. Many strict Muslims live in Scotland, he replied, but certainly not as many as in England. Scotland, he felt, had a better chance than the rest of the UK to hold out against immigrant agitation over the long term, because the Scots have a stronger sense of identity than elsewhere in the country. Food for thought.
The Fringe Festival
By contrast, London Jewish comedienne Rachel Creeger performed as the Ultimate Jewish Mother. She told me that in her performances, she doesn't shy away from being Jewish. In fact she emphasizes it. Her show is not political, and she tries to impart a positive message. I have seen her show and she does just that. Nonetheless, she has found that since 'October 7', she has been given the cold shoulder by some of her work contacts.
According to the festival website, the solo play is "performed by Amena Shehab, a Palestinian-Syrian-Canadian, a refugee twice over".
https://tickets.edfringe.com/whats-on/hagar-war-mother.
I was struck by the concept of who is a refugee, knowing that this actress was clearly born after 1948 and may have never even been to 'Palestine'. But more so, I was fascinated at how easily the term refugee was used, with reference to someone of Palestinian heritage, as an uncontested fact.
Local Sympathy
Wearing his kippa and dressed in a suit, David Rose goes about his daily business. He confided in me that, in his two decades as rabbi of the Edinburgh Hebrew Congregation, he could count on one hand incidences when distasteful comments had been made to him for being Jewish. When I accompanied him on the street, making our way through the throngs who had descended on the city for the Fringe, people would stop him to express their sympathies and good wishes for the Jewish community and Israelis. Some were complete strangers.
Between a Rock and A Hard Place
In 2023, Scotland's head of state was Hamza Yousef, a Muslim of Pakistani origin, and the country's first lady was a Palestinian. Her parents were living in Gaza.
But this did not seem to represent his later conduct.
During his brief time in office, Yousef supported diversity and suggested how Jews should deal with antisemitism.
Yousef resigned his post on 7th May, 2024, for reasons unconnected to his position on Israel.
Now, months later, he is being investigated:
'Scotland's former first minister Humza Yousaf faces probe after quarter-million donation to Gaza
Scotland's former first minister reportedly donated £250,000, out of a fund destined for Malawi, Rwanda, Zambia and Pakistan, only a day before his in-laws were given passage from Gaza'.
He must have felt stuck between a rock and a hard place. I don't envy him.
Protests
University protests in Edinburgh were few and far between after my arrival. Students left town for the summer, during which tourists took over the city for the Fringe Festival. The city was clearly cleaned up for the event.
Nonetheless, flyers still decorated windows, advertising fundraising events for Gaza. These were presumably deemed by the authorities humanitarian in nature and not political.
Some political posters did slip through, usually in private windows.
A biweekly protest takes place outside the town branch of Barkley’s Bank. The protestors claim the bank is funding Israeli munitions.
I decided to attend. About six people, all local Scots, hovered on the pavement around a table with a Palestinian flag.
The large glass doors to the bank were guarded by two burly security men, ensuring safe ingress and egress for customers.
I stepped towards the building and they ushered me in. The guards looked serious but sympathetic.
“Do you guys stand at the door all the time, or just when there’s a protest?”, I asked.
“Just for protests. It’s every week.”
“I’m not with them. I’m Israeli", I clarified. "I’m one of those who hides in a bomb shelter when Hamas shoots missiles at us.” The guard glanced at me with a blank, accepting face.
“I don’t get it,” he said, looking out at the protestors. “Some people just want to make trouble.”
One of the protestors outside, wearing an angry expression, approached the doors and motioned for the guard to allow him in.
“Don’t worry, he’s coming for me”, I told the guard who watched, surprised, as I exited the bank to face the protestor’s ire.
“Why are you talking to the Bank’s guards?” he spat at me. “You look like you’re conspiring with the security guys!”
He asked me where I was from.
“Israel”. The man visibly winced with pain.
“Why are you photographing us without asking permission?”
I looked at him, surprised. “You’re in public with a flag and huge signs. I assume you want publicity.”
“Only if you’re with us!”
I spoke calmly, trying to keep the flames low. “I didn’t come to discuss politics, just to see what you’re doing.”
“Do you agree with the Zionists?” he asked me, hoping against hope that I would redeem myself.
“I am a Zionist”, I pointed out, glancing back through the glass doors at the bank’s guards in case I needed protection.
I was immediately subjected to a tirade of misinformation about Israel, apartheid, colonial aggression, land theft, and more. I didn’t push back too hard because, to be honest, no-one was listening, least of all the fellow I was talking to. He was insistent that no atrocities had occurred on October 7, that most Israeli injuries had occurred at the hands of Israel, as cover for its ‘genocidal’ activities, that Palestinians are not allowed to enter half of the country due to apartheid, that all Jews are colonialist immigrants, and more. He was red-faced and close to screaming.
“Why are you being aggressive? This is a civil conversation”. He calmed down, and I continued. “Look, I live in Israel. Everything you're saying is simply not what I see or experience. I’ve been to the burnt out villages near the Gaza border. I work with Palestinians. I even know some who voted for Netanyahu.”
“Ach, you have been brainwashed by the ZIONISTS!” His thick Scottish accent and pale complexion somehow exaggerated my sense that his rage was fuelled by white Christian antisemitism, and not by facts. There was no point in continuing our banter, and we both knew it.
I wished him peace and held out my hand. He instinctively took it before realising that I was a ‘Zionist’ and he was shaking hands with the devil.
My thoughts zapped back to my university days, when I sported a kippa and tsitsit. A close catholic friend asked me what a Zionist was. “It’s someone who believes in Jewish nationalism. Why do you ask?” Apparently she had been chided by other students for being friends with a Zionist.
The Church
I was a little shaken by the blind hatred of the protester. I strolled a while to calm myself, before passing a large church. The building was beautiful, and I went in to see it. A community member gave me a tour.
A meeting was held at the EHC synagogue for members to express their feelings about current events. An Israeli woman, living in Scotland for many years, almost cried as she spoke about the distortions in the British media and how it affected the people around her. Following October 7, work acquaintances and others who are aware of her background greet her stone-faced. “Not one of them has said a word, or shown me any sympathy or expressed any interest in my welfare whatsoever.” Others present had similar experiences.
“Twenty years ago”, she went on, “our son became friends with a boy from a Palestinian family here in Edinburgh. We were so happy they were friends. The other boy’s parents, however, forbade our sons from mingling.”
An elderly gentleman shared his own thoughts. “Local antisemitism is what it has always been. I was bullied here as a wee lad, and it continues today. Don’t fool yourselves. No-one here loves Jews.”
Community Relations with the City
A few days later, the EHC held an annual event marking appreciation for the warm relationship between the Jewish community and the city. With much pomp and ceremony, public dignitaries attended the Saturday service. I stood shooting the breeze with the security guard when one of the event’s organisers came over to the guard.
“Word seems to have gotten out about this event. One of the dignitaries has been stalked and subjected to abuse. For security reasons, he’s decided not to attend today. Everything should be fine, but there’s a small chance that protestors will turn up here. If so, let me know.” No protestors showed, and no-one but the guard, and now you, was any the wiser. But it certainly gave me some insight into the current atmosphere.
During the service, the rabbi took to the podium to deliver a sermon to the community and the dignitary guests. He spoke with sensitivity but in a forthright tone, discussing the values of equality and respect expressed in the bible, which are reflected in the values engendered by the city through the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Are these values being safeguarded, he pondered? Do all citizens feel respected and safe? Without referencing any specific event or community, he alluded to the agitation in Leith, amongst others.
“We must ask ourselves whether all our residents feel safe, and whether we are doing enough to safeguard and promote those values”. I was proud of the way he raised this issue. At the kiddush and refreshments that followed, the Lord Provost (Mayor) thanked the rabbi for the truth of words and the important challenge they posed.
Numerous Jewish visitors to Edinburgh are hosted by the EHC synagogue for Shabbat meals. During one such lunch, a visitor from Efrat opined that there is no such thing as an innocent Muslim. I was horrified, as was the Rabbi, who is known for his participation in interfaith relations. “The Arabs are children of Ishmael”, the fellow argued, “and he was evil to the core.”
The Rabbi shot back. “Nowhere does it say that Ishmael was evil. In fact he was blessed with being the father of a large nation, today the Muslims.” The rabbi added that when local rabble-rousers had sought to protest against Israel in front of the synagogue, it had been the local Muslim community that had stopped them.
Persians
During the week I entered a store downtown and started a conversation (as always) with the shopkeeper. He was pleased to give me the opportunity to photograph him. We spoke as I got to work, and he shared with me stories of his childhood in Iran. I told him I'm Israeli, and his face lit up, suddenly directing his assistant to make me a cup of espresso. "I support you, man," he said, referring to the current conflict with Hamas in Gaza. "All Persians do. The Jews are our friends, and we respect Israel. The problem is the Iranian government. In the name of Islam, they just shoot people all the time. Also in Iran and also around the world." He told me of family members who still live there, of their economic hardships, of the need to toe the line of the regime. Then he became even more serious and spoke of the country's leaders. Despite that reported in the news, Raisi, he was sure, was bumped off, because he tried to take too much power. Moreover, the current president is the weakest so far. After him, today's youth will be in a position to wrest back power from the Ayatollas. We looked out the shop window at the passersby, both Muslims and others, and wondered aloud what they think and why. Unlike them, here was a person who understood current world events in the way I understood them. We gave each other gifts, exchanged contact details, and parted.
I thought back to other Muslim Iranians I have encountered in the last year. The flag-waving Persians who joined the rally I attended last year in Melbourne in support of Israel; the Persian woman I met on the London tube, who told me rather forcefully (and despite my protestations) that all Gazans are Israel-hating terrorists and need to be finished off; the sole counter-protestor, draped in an Israeli flag, at a pro-Palestine rally in Leeds. This man stood defiant while being screamed at and abused for being Israeli by masked Arabs, who openly threatened him in front of the police. I heard his Persian accent as he retorted calmly, speaking about Hamas atrocities and Israel's right to defend itself. My subsequent enquiries confirmed: this Iranian individual regularly attends these rallies, alone, defending Israel.
The Mosque
The next day, on a whim, I decided to pop into an Edinburgh mosque. I approached the entrance respectfully and the guards allowed me in. Inside it was quiet and serene. I stayed briefly and absorbed the atmosphere. At the exit, I struck up a conversation with some worshippers, and they welcomed me to visit any time. "This is a place of peace. All are welcome.” They spoke to each other in a mixture of Bengali and Urdu.
A worshipper entered and I greeted him. “Salaam Aleikum”
Hearing me, the others looked at me in surprise.
“How do you know to say that?”
“I live in Israel”.
“But you’re not a Zionist...right?”
“Actually, I am”, I answered. Surprisingly, the conversation became even warmer.
They hailed from Pakistan, and we discussed the connections between our cultures: Halal and Kosher; modesty and women’s head coverings; the nature of Hashem/Allah; Ibrahim, Yaakub and Ismail.
“We are all cousins, you know”, said one of them with a smile. “Jews and Muslims. We are children of Ismail, you are children of Yaakub.” I nodded.
“What do you think about Netanyahu?” he suddenly asked.
I laughed. But the question was genuine and was not meant as a threat. We spoke for another hour, and we listened to each other with genuine interest.
“It’s a pity you can’t come to visit Israel” I said. “Perhaps one day you will get a UK passport and come to see it for yourself.” We embraced in what I thought was a farewell moment.
I descended the mosque steps and rounded the corner, passing a small, left-wing, social action bookstore, filled to the brim with books advocating for the rights of whom they see as suffering discrimination for their gender, social or political status.
