Not in my backyard — the new Jewish cowardice

After October 7, Jewish philanthropy reached historic heights.

Billions of dollars were pledged. Emergency campaigns were launched.

Solidarity missions filled the skies between America and Israel.

Influential Jewish leaders proclaimed that they stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the Jewish state.

Many of them meant it.

But there is a question I have been wrestling with ever since I was threatened with murder by an unhinged Islamist while sitting in the lobby of a luxury American institution. The question is this: How committed are we to fighting antisemitism when the fight comes to our own doorstep?

Not in Gaza. Not in Tel Aviv. Not at the United Nations. Not on a college campus. But in our own backyard. Because that is where courage is truly tested.

I know something now that I did not fully understand before.

Many Jews are willing to fight antisemitism until the moment fighting it becomes personally inconvenient. Many will defend Israel until doing so threatens a friendship. Many will praise IDF soldiers until defending them requires confronting someone powerful. Many will finance the battle against Jew-hatred as long as somebody else is doing the fighting.

But when the battle arrives at their own front door, suddenly the calculations begin.

What will this cost? Will I be subpoenaed? Will I be deposed? Will I become involved in litigation? Will my name appear in court papers? Will I upset someone wealthy? Will I lose a business relationship? Will I create friction in my social circle?

And so the pressure begins.

Be quiet. Don’t escalate. Trust the process. Let cooler heads prevail. Don’t make trouble.

I heard all of it.

After being threatened by an extremist who repeatedly demonized Israel and referred to IDF soldiers as murderers, I was urged not to take immediate legal action. I was urged not to go public. I was urged not to defend myself. I was assured that influential people would solve the problem. I was assured that apologies were coming. I was assured that accountability was coming. I was assured that justice was coming.

So I waited.

And while I waited, the other side prepared. While I remained silent, others built a narrative. While I honored requests for patience, others positioned themselves for war.

The result was devastating.

The victim became the defendant. The man threatened became the accused. The Jew subjected to antisemitic intimidation suddenly found himself portrayed as the aggressor.

Anyone who has spent time studying modern lawfare recognizes the pattern.

The objective is not necessarily to win. The objective is to exhaust. To intimidate. To isolate. To bankrupt. To silence.

And what has disturbed me most throughout this ordeal has not been the conduct of my adversaries.

I expect little from those who wish to suppress inconvenient truths. What has disturbed me is the retreat of people who know better. People who love Israel. People who support the IDF. People who speak passionately about Jewish security. People who have devoted enormous resources to Jewish causes.

Yet when faced with a real-life confrontation involving antisemitism, many suddenly become frightened of the consequences of involvement.

Not frightened of antisemitism. Frightened of litigation. Not frightened of Jew-hatred. Frightened of depositions. Not frightened of intimidation. Frightened of inconvenience.

Forgive me, but if 19-year-old Israeli soldiers can leave their families and enter Gaza under Hamas rockets, if reservists can spend months away from their wives and children defending the Jewish state, if Israelis can sleep in bomb shelters while Iranian missiles rain down upon them, then surely American Jewish leaders can endure the inconvenience of a deposition.

Surely they can survive a subpoena. Surely they can withstand an uncomfortable phone call. Surely they can tell the truth.

The irony is staggering. We ask young Israelis to risk death. Yet some American Jewish leaders are unwilling to risk inconvenience. We ask IDF soldiers to charge enemy positions. Yet some of our wealthiest and most influential communal figures recoil at the possibility of legal entanglement.

What exactly are we asking Israeli soldiers to defend if we ourselves refuse to defend Jewish dignity when it is challenged in our own communities?

The lesson of October 7 was not merely that Jews must fight. The lesson was that Jews must stop outsourcing their defense to others. For generations we believed institutions would protect us. Many did not. We believed elite opinion would protect us. It did not. We believed public respectability would protect us. It did not.

The same lesson applies here.

No one is coming to save us. Not public relations consultants. Not lawyers. Not billionaires. Not institutions.

The Jewish people survive because ordinary Jews refuse to surrender. Because someone eventually says enough. Enough intimidation. Enough excuses. Enough silence. Enough fear.

What troubles me most is that a dangerous precedent is being established.

If institutions learn that they can silence Jews through aggressive litigation, others will follow. If prominent Jewish defenders can be sued into silence after speaking about antisemitism, others will think twice before speaking up. If communal leaders refuse to stand beside those targeted for exposing antisemitism because they fear becoming involved themselves, then lawfare becomes a weapon every bit as effective as intimidation.

That cannot be allowed to happen.

The Jewish people cannot afford a doctrine of “not in my backyard.” We cannot fight antisemitism only when it occurs somewhere else. We cannot defend Israel only when it is convenient. We cannot praise courage while practicing caution. And we cannot celebrate the heroism of Israeli soldiers while abandoning fellow Jews who are being punished for standing up to antisemitism.

History does not remember those who avoided trouble. History remembers those who confronted it.

The future of the Jewish people has never been secured by spectators. It has always been secured by fighters. Not necessarily fighters with weapons. But fighters with conviction. Fighters with courage. Fighters willing to stand alone when necessary.

And if there is one lesson I have learned from this entire ordeal, it is this: The greatest threat facing the Jewish people is not merely antisemitism. It is the temptation to accommodate antisemitism when confronting it becomes inconvenient.

That is a temptation we must reject. Every time. Without exception. Especially when the fight is in our own backyard.

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