Iceland, what happened to you?

I came to Iceland in love with Iceland. I leave heartbroken by it.

For nearly two weeks my family and I traveled through what is unquestionably one of God’s great masterpieces. We drove beneath mountains disappearing into clouds, stood before thundering waterfalls, crossed black volcanic landscapes, and watched glaciers descend toward the sea.

Iceland is magnificent.

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But during our visit, another Iceland emerged — one I could never have imagined when I arrived. Again and again, I was recognized as “Rabbi Shmuley,” an outspoken Jewish defender of Israel, and confronted with hostility.

I was cursed. I was repeatedly called a “baby killer.” “Free Palestine” and “F*** Israel” were screamed at me — not at a demonstration, but directly at a Jewish man walking with his family.

I was told Zionists were not wanted in Iceland. I was followed and verbally abused. I was physically assaulted. Then I was assaulted a second time. And during one approximately 30-minute walk through Reykjavík, I counted seven separate hostile confrontations. Seven. In 30 minutes.

I documented these experiences on Instagram and Facebook. The videos are there. The faces are there. The confrontations are there. Millions have watched them.

This was no longer one unpleasant encounter. It became a pattern. And after enough encounters, a tourist stops asking, “What is wrong with that person?” and begins asking, “What is happening in this country?”

One of the most disturbing incidents occurred in a bar. I wanted to buy a beer. That’s it. Not debate Gaza. Not lecture about Israeli policy. Not stage a demonstration. I wanted a beer.

I was recognized, a confrontation followed, and I was physically assaulted. Afterward came the predictable response: perhaps I provoke people by answering them. Perhaps I should ignore them. Perhaps a public Jew should simply walk away.

Forgive me. Since when does the victim of harassment acquire the responsibility to disappear? A Jew should not have to remove his yarmulke, hide his magen David, conceal his identity, or surrender his voice to buy a beer safely in a European capital.

After repeated confrontations, I experienced something more consequential than anger. Fear.

There were moments when I genuinely feared for my safety and that of my family. I have confronted antisemites around the world. I have been threatened and attacked before. I know the difference between heated political disagreement and danger. This felt different because it was so incessant.

Then the street hatred met the online hatred. Candace Owens demanded that “Viking Power” evict us from Iceland. Eye on Palestine, with millions of followers, repeatedly called for my assassination on Instagram.

That is the frightening ecology of modern antisemitism.

Someone recognizes a Jew. The confrontation is filmed. The video goes viral. Thousands cheer. Influencers amplify the hostility. And the next person who encounters that Jew believes he too has permission to confront him. The digital mob becomes the physical mob. All the while we are told: This isn’t antisemitism. It is only anti-Zionism.

Really? Then why was the target an American rabbi? I am not a member of Israel’s government. I do not command the IDF. I do not determine Israeli military policy. I was walking through Iceland with my family.

Yet strangers felt entitled to make me personally answer for Gaza because I am publicly Jewish and publicly stand with Israel. Of course, not every critic of Israel is an antisemite. Israel, like every country, can and should be criticized. But when “Zionist” becomes the epithet screamed at a visibly Orthodox Jew, it is fair to ask whether “Zionist” has simply become Europe’s respectable substitute for “Jew.”

What makes Iceland’s descent particularly painful is how different the country appeared only recently.

From 2003 to 2016, Iceland’s First Lady was Dorrit Moussaieff, an Israeli-born Jew from Jerusalem, who was married to President Ólafur Ragnar Grímsson.

Think about the contrast. Just over a decade ago, a Jerusalem-born Jewish woman occupied Iceland’s most prominent ceremonial role alongside its president. 

Now an American Orthodox rabbi walks through Reykjavík and is repeatedly denounced over Israel. What happened?

There were warning signs. In 2018, members of Iceland’s parliament considered legislation prohibiting the non-medical circumcision of boys. For Jews, brit milah is the covenant of Abraham, practiced for thousands of years and foundational to Jewish religious identity. Contemporary reports said violating the proposed prohibition could result in years of imprisonment.

The bill ultimately died. Thank God.

But Jews noticed that in a 21st-century European democracy, it had become conceivable to criminalize one of Judaism’s most ancient practices.

Europe repeatedly tells Jews: We love Judaism. Then come the qualifications.

We love Judaism without circumcision. We love Judaism without Israel. We love Jews provided their Jewishness never inconveniences the prevailing ideology.

That is not tolerance. That is conditional acceptance.

Icelanders will rightly point to their country’s compassion toward Palestinians. But why should compassion for Palestinians require hostility toward Jews? Why must sympathy for one people become contempt for another?

Iceland wishes to present itself as enlightened, humanitarian and tolerant. Its moral test therefore cannot merely be which distant populations it champions. The test is how actual human beings standing on an Icelandic street are treated. Humanitarianism is cheap when its beneficiaries are abstractions. It becomes real when someone you profoundly disagree with is standing three feet in front of you.

You cannot proclaim Palestinian dignity while denying Jewish dignity. You cannot campaign against racism while intimidating Jews. And you cannot chant about human rights while making a Jewish tourist fear for his physical safety.

There is also a practical reality that Iceland ignores at its peril. Tourism is fundamental to Iceland’s prosperity. The country’s global brand rests on a promise: Come here.

See something extraordinary. Experience one of the safest, friendliest and most beautiful places on earth. Safety and hospitality are part of that promise.

Americans have choices. Jews have choices. Israelis have choices. Families deciding where to spend thousands of dollars on vacation have choices. Nobody wants to cross an ocean to be told that people like them are unwelcome.

Yet I do not want Jews to boycott Iceland. I want Iceland to change. That distinction matters.

I have seen too much beauty here to wish this country ill. I have visited several times and I have lectured to its tiny Jewish community. I met many good Icelanders during this trip who were gracious and welcoming. It would be wrong to condemn an entire nation because of people who abused me, just as it is wrong to condemn every Jew because you despise Israel’s government.

But neither will I sanitize what happened. Too often Jews are told: Don’t make a fuss. Don’t call it antisemitism. Don’t answer back. Don’t embarrass anyone. Don’t make people uncomfortable.

For two thousand years, Jews have been advised to survive hostility by becoming less visible. I reject that advice. I am a Jew. I am a rabbi. I am a lover of Israel. And none of those things deprives me of my right to walk safely down a street in Reykjavík.

I do not need to manufacture sweeping statistics about Icelandic antisemitism. My firsthand experience is damning enough.

On this trip I was cursed. I was repeatedly harassed. I was called a baby killer. I was told Zionists were not wanted. I was physically assaulted twice. I experienced seven hostile confrontations in approximately 30 minutes in Reykjavík.

This happened in Iceland. In 2026. And that should trouble every decent Icelander far more than anything I have written in this column.

So my appeal is to Icelanders who know this is wrong. Take your country back from hatred. Criticize Netanyahu. Criticize Trump. Criticize me. Tell me every political opinion I hold is mistaken. That is freedom.

But when you see a Jew being harassed, defend him. When “Zionist” is used as an epithet against a Jewish stranger, challenge it. When someone screams “baby killer” at a rabbi, do not pretend you are witnessing human-rights activism. When a visitor is assaulted, do not cheer because you dislike his politics.

A nation is measured not by how loudly it proclaims its tolerance, but by how it treats people with whom it profoundly disagrees. Palestinians deserve human dignity. Israelis deserve human dignity. Muslims, Christians, and Americans deserve human dignity. And Jews deserve human dignity.

No exceptions. No ideological tests. No requirement that we renounce Israel first.

I came to Iceland believing it was one of the most beautiful countries on earth. I still believe that. But mountains and glaciers are geography. Tolerance is a choice. And Iceland must decide what kind of country it wishes the world to see. Because beauty gets tourists onto airplanes. But human decency determines whether they ever come back.

Rabbi Shmuley Boteach of Englewood is the author of 30 books. Follow him on Instagram and Twitter @RabbiShmuley.