Let’s start with the conclusion: It seems that Europe is beginning to realize that it failed to wake up in time. It now finds itself in trouble for having allowed Islamic migration to take root, take over its cities, and disregard local culture and traditions.
In the same vein, Europe may also be starting to understand and justify Israel’s struggle against terrorism. Perhaps it is beginning to grasp that radical Islam’s goal is not only to eliminate Jews but also to target Christians. While there is still a long way to go before this realization translates into policy and action, a shift in consciousness is definitely being felt.
Maybe even Donald Trump’s election has triggered a positive shock.
Since October 7, I have visited three of Europe’s major capitals—Amsterdam, Prague, and London—four times. In my first three visits, it was impossible not to sense hostility when I identified myself as Israeli.
Prague, and the Czech Republic in general, is a different story. The Czechs are staunch supporters of Israel, going about their daily lives without succumbing to the trend of Israel-hatred. Islamic migration has not reached the Czech Republic, and the results speak for themselves.
Of course, generalizations should be avoided, but it is evident that many Muslims in Europe eagerly seize opportunities to demonstrate against Israel, flooding the streets with chants of hatred—“From the river to the sea”—often joined by naïve and ignorant Europeans who have no clue what they are protesting against. Palestinian flags are prominent on the streets of Amsterdam. It is probably no coincidence that the recent pogrom against Maccabi Tel Aviv supporters took place in that city.
Last week, I was in Prague and London for a work trip that also included two soccer matches and a London theater show. In Prague, as always, one feels that walking around draped in an Israeli flag would not be an issue—though I wouldn’t recommend testing that theory, just in case.
Is a shift taking place?
In London, due to a train malfunction, I had an unexpected anthropological experience that may illustrate the beginnings of a shift. After landing, I took a high-speed train from Stansted Airport to my hotel in London.
The first of two stops was after just eight minutes. The train suddenly halted, and the announcement came: A truck was stuck on the tracks, requiring passengers to disembark, return to the airport, and take a taxi to central London. It soon became clear that the return train was also not moving. By then, it was past 10 p.m., bitterly cold, and I was stranded in an unfamiliar station called Bishop’s Stortford.
Exiting the station, I noticed three taxis and approached one of the drivers. When I asked if he could take me to my hotel in London, he replied that the journey was too long for him but offered to drive me to Epping, a half-hour away, for £70. From there, he assured me, I could take the underground to central London. As I placed my suitcase in the trunk, three people standing nearby, looking lost, asked how they could reach London affordably. I suggested they share the ride with me, and they eagerly accepted.
On the way, we got acquainted and later continued as a group on the underground toward Oxford Street—a journey of an hour and 15 minutes with 27 stops, according to the British woman in the group. The other two were from Croatia.
The train was empty except for the four of us. We all exchanged backgrounds, and when they heard I was from Israel, their eyes lit up with warmth. A fascinating conversation followed, revealing their deep awareness of events in Israel, the returning hostages, and the Bibas family. They fully supported Israel’s actions. I felt at home.
At one of the stops, two locals boarded and sat near us. Upon hearing I was from Israel, one of them—a typical ruddy-cheeked Brit—stood up, warmly shook my hand, and declared with emotion that he loves Israel. He said he knew Israel was fighting terrorists, repeatedly thumped his chest in admiration, and shouted over and over: “F*** them, f*** Hamas, f*** Iran.”
I arrived at my hotel past midnight, grateful that the train had broken down.
Unlike the Czechs, the English always ask where you are from. It happened at my hotel, in stores, at soccer matches, and even at the theater—where those sitting on either side of me eagerly inquired and were excited to learn I was from Israel. In short: Israel 11, Europe 0.
I should clarify that everyone I encountered was a native Brit. This does not mean that Islam’s presence in London is any less prominent. I cannot say for sure whether my experience reflects the start of a broader change, but I have a feeling that it does. I hope so.
The writer is a strategic communications consultant at Peer Levin Communications.