Newsgroup: it.politica.internazionale
Titolo: An Old Hatred Returns By Europe's Back Door

http://standpointmag.co.uk/node/4051/full
An Old Hatred Returns By Europe's Back Door
Christopher Caldwell
September 2011
In mid-August, as London's neighbourhoods underwent violence, looting
and fire, France's Jews looked on with a familiar disquiet. Jews were
in no sense the target of this summer's rioting, but a decade ago,
something similar went wrong on the streets of Paris that has not been
put right since. The present era of European street violence began
with widespread assaults on Jews around Paris in the autumn of 2000,
the year of the so-called "second intifada" in Israel. The following
year saw riots in Oldham and Rochdale — overshadowed in retrospect by
the destruction of the World Trade Center just weeks later.
 There were 744 acts of anti-Jewish violence and threats in France in
2000, the worst year since the war. While these were, beyond any
shadow of a doubt, anti-Semitic acts, they were not perpetrated by the
sort of anti-Semites against whom French people had steeled themselves
to be vigilant. Violence was particularly intense in those north Paris
neighbourhoods, such as Sarcelles and Garges-lès-Gonesses, where an
established and ageing Jewish population, much of it descended from
North African immigration of the early 1960s, lived at close quarters
with newer Muslim immigrants, many of them young. The attacks were
stemmed by an aggressive government response starting in 2002, but
they have never died out. The years 2004 and 2009 were worse. They
form the backdrop to a more general sense of being ill-at-ease, or no
longer quite so at home, that many French Jews describe.
Paris has more Jews than any country in Western Europe. It also has
more Arab Muslims. Clashing visions of how the French state ought to
respond have led to a divergence of interests between the two groups.
But while the Arab population is rising rapidly, the Jewish population
is ageing and shrinking due to emigration, intermarriage and small
family size. It has fallen to under half a million, according to the
authoritative Hebrew University demographer Sergio Della Pergola. It
is now hard to teach the Holocaust in schools, due to harassment and
disruption from mostly immigrant students. A third  of Jewish students
have abandoned the state school system for Jewish schools, while
another third go to Catholic ones — more for reasons of security than
pedagogy. Regularly scheduled, robustly attended demonstrations
question the legitimacy of the state of Israel.
But a problem that France presents at its most intense is not
exclusively a French problem. The senior politician of the Dutch
centre-Right, Frits Bolkestein, has worried aloud that Holland's
unassimilated Muslims may make the country a dangerous place for its
40,000 Orthodox (and therefore visible) Jews. In Germany, the Left
party has held fraught internal meetings to discuss whether its
members' passionate anti-Israel sentiments were shading over into anti-
Semitic ones.
France's behaviour towards its Jews in World War II has for decades
served as the lodestone for its political ethics. For a quarter-
century after the war, an official silence surrounded the
collaboration of France's wartime Vichy government with that of Nazi
Germany. Since the early 1970s, when the American historian Robert
Paxton and the documentary filmmaker Marcel Ophüls revealed that
collaboration in detail, discussion of France's misdeeds has been wide-
open. But it has the power to fascinate and wound. Two major movies
about the Holocaust were showing in French cinemas over the summer —
the American film Sarah's Key and the French-made La Rafle, which
describes the night of July 15, 1942, when thousands of Jews,
including children, were rounded up by French authorities. They
followed a spat over whether to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the
death of Louis-Ferdinand Céline, arguably France's greatest 20th-
century novelist but certainly one of its most notorious literary anti-
Semites.
France looked at the record of World War II and found it so
unspeakable that it insisted on stamping out the merest glimmer of the
doctrines that had made such things  possible. It was not the only
country in continental Europe that did so. But there was an added
drama to the French state's relations with France's Jews. For the
first two decades of Israel's existence, France was its most important
ally. The two countries even cooperated to develop their nuclear
weapons programmes. But after Israel fought the Six-Day War against a
coalition of Arab powers in 1967, France's president Charles de Gaulle
withdrew his support, and in terms that made it seem his real gripe
was not with Israel but with Jews, whom he called "an elite people,
sure of itself and dominant". Nonetheless, for decades after the
1970s, remembering the Holocaust in a dignified and appropriate way
(le devoir de mémoire, as the French called it) was the core
"spiritual exercise" of France — in its schools and on its public days
of remembrance. Jews wound up,  willy-nilly, at the centre of France's
moral system.
This system was delicate and difficult to maintain. In retrospect, it
cut against a longstanding French idea of citizenship based on radical
egalitarianism and absolute loyalty to the French state. History and
morality might justify being specially mindful of Franco-Jewish
history, but the country's constitutional principles made that history
a source of mischief, a useful stick with which to beat the French
public. In the 1980s and 1990s, political activists — then a leftist
vanguard, now a multicultural establishment — found it useful when
demanding special privileges for asylum-seekers, immigrants and racial
minorities, to cast them as the modern-day incarnation of what Jews
had been in the 1930s and '40s. Among the most egregious offenders was
SOS Racism, an anti-racist group set up by the Mitterrand-era
Socialist Party. Any misgivings about high levels of immigration, or
high levels of immigrant crime, were analogised to collaboration in
the deportation of Jews to Auschwitz in the 1940s. Anti-anti-Semitism
became grounds for shutting popular opinion about many issues out of
the national conversation altogether, much as anti-racism did in the
US or the UK.
The history of the Holocaust was put to the service not of memory but
of ideology. A bulwark against anti-Semitism became a citadel of
multiculturalism. The main beneficiaries of Holocaust memory were
France's 5 million or so Muslims, descendants of a mass immigration
from North Africa and elsewhere after the 1960s, but there was an odd
twist. Particularly after the blossoming of political Islam in the
1970s, their main geo-strategic grievance was with the Jewish state,
and many Arabs in France showed considerably less ability than even de
Gaulle to distinguish between the Jewish state and the Jewish people.
Mass immigration thus left Jews in France in an awkward position.
In a democracy, the interests of a community of 5-6 million will
usually trump those of a community of under half a million. The
Socialist foreign-policy thinker Pascal Boniface wrote a notorious
memo to his party's political strategists on the eve of the 2002
elections in which he urged them to bear this imbalance in mind when
they formulated their policy on Israel. Such realpolitik no longer
attracts much notice. Muslims have been able to reshape the French
state and society in ways that Jews had neither the demographic might
nor the proselytising inclination to seek. Ramadan — in which millions
of French workers are slowed down by fasting — has become an important
part of the rhythm of the French work year. Muslim families have
objected to the way the Holocaust is taught in French schools,
claiming to see it as an apology for the state of Israel, and some
have objected to its being taught altogether.
The state has grown increasingly open to minority concerns. This is
bound to help Jews in certain ways. In recent months interior minister
Claude Guéant has begun to talk about the need to arrange scholarly
entrance and prize exams — often scheduled for Saturday, the Jewish
Sabbath — in such a way that they do not prejudice Jews' chances of
getting into good schools. At the same time, being lumped into the
same regime of rights as Muslims has its drawbacks. When French
policymakers sought to address a dramatic increase in veil-wearing in
secondary schools half a decade ago, they did so by casting it as a
problem of "secularism", not of Islam. That meant that Jewish students
were forbidden to wear yarmulkes to school, a right that had never
proved problematic. "Through parallels drawn with Islam," says Rabbi
Joël Mergui, who heads the Consistoire, the official organisation of
French Jews, "we have lost certain acquired rights [acquis]."
In the 1970s, French Jews were a people whose story serves to promote
immigration. Today, they are victims of that immigrations's failure
constrained to compete with other minorities for the favour of the
broader society. Today a third of the youth population of many cities,
including Paris, consists of the descendents of immigration. France
has replaced a cohort that feels it has a debt towards Jews with a
cohort that feels Jews have a debt towards them.
The drama plays out in arguments over the state of Israel. Two things
make French arguments over Israel particularly passionate. First,
French Jews' attachment to Israel is strong. There are 800,000 French-
speakers in the Jewish state, and Jerusalem is just over four hours'
flight away. So French Jews simply spend a lot of time there. They
even speak of a "Boeing aliya" (borrowing the word for a migration to
the Holy Land) that takes place every weekend. Certain causes
célèbres, like that of the Franco-Jewish soldier Gilad Shalit, held
hostage by Hamas in Gaza since 2006, tighten this bond.
The second is that French opposition to Israel is ferocious among
certain groups of people who are closely listened to, especially
immigrants and intellectuals. A host of organisations are dedicated to
exposing the Jewish state's alleged misdeeds. These range from the
Communist-inspired Association France Palestine Solidarité, which has
existed for decades and organises marches and campaigns, to the newer
Europalestine, which spearheads various boycotts and guerrilla theatre
operations. They will, for example, enter a Carrefour supermarket en
masse and cart out Israeli products. The Muslim Brotherhood-dominated
UOIF, which often holds a majority on France's official Muslim body,
the CFCM, backs the Muslim Brotherhood-inspired Hamas government of
the Gaza strip. The Sheikh Yassin Collective, named after the Hamas
leader slain in an Israeli anti-terrorist operation, is more hardline
still.
There are flashpoints in this preoccupation with Israel's conduct, and
they tend to result in tense times for Jews on the streets of Paris.
Consider the anti-Israel flotilla of May 2010, which made news all
over the world but had a special resonance in France. International
anti-Israel activists sent a flotilla to break the Israeli blockade in
Gazan waters. When Israeli troops boarded the lead ship, the Mavi
Marmara, they were met with armed resistance, and they killed nine.
This led to a certain amount of rage among the global Left, but among
French leftists it was extreme. There were 190 demonstrations against
the incident across France the following day. A petition supporting an
anti-Israeli flotilla scheduled for last spring drew the signatures of
300 influential people: Franco-Arab leaders, intellectuals, and
deputies and senators not just from the Communist Party but also from
the Socialist mainstream.
Even the attempts of oil-rich countries to slant discussion of the
Israeli-Palestinian issue are more aggressive in France. Recently the
Washington Post carried an article about Yale University's abandonment
of its prestigious programme for studying   anti-Semitism, possibly
due to pressure from its Arab donors, and this sort of thing happens
across Europe. But in France, the enormously gifted and appallingly
anti-Semitic Franco-Cameroonian comedian Dieudonné M'bala-M'bala has
received financing from Iran to make a film about the slave trade. If
it resembles Dieudonné's earlier public pronouncements on the subject,
it will stress the role of Jews in setting it up.
How much those in the non-immigrant, non-intellectual mainstream of
French life care about Middle Eastern matters is hard to gauge, but
there are disquieting signs. One was the runaway popularity last
winter of the pamphlet Indignez-Vous! penned by a 93-year-old veteran
of the French resistance named Stéphane Hessel. "Get Mad!" would be a
good translation of its title. In little more than a dozen
platitudinous pages, Hessel, who is of Jewish background, assured its
readers that they too could claim the mantle of the resistance. That
was a message to which French readers were receptive, and the
broadside sold more than a million copies. But what were French people
supposed to resist, now that the Nazis were gone? "Today my main
indignation concerns Palestine," Hessel wrote. He claimed Israel "is
massacring innocent people," without being specific about who those
people were. He went on to liken the Jewish people to the Nazis who
once persecuted them: "That the Jews could themselves perpetrate war
crimes is intolerable. Alas, history gives few examples of people who
learn the lessons of their own history."
If the only people mobilised by such passions were the children of
Palestinians in Europe, they might be seen as occupying a continuum
with, for instance, the Boston Irish, who funded IRA terrorism
throughout the second half of the 20th century — people with a genuine
historical grievance, a stunted sense of when bygones become bygones,
and a deplorable tendency to see violence as a first resort. But the
demonisation of Israel is not that way. It has appeal outside the
Palestinian community, and indeed outside the Muslim community. It is
bizarrely single-minded and implausibly intense. This spring, as many
frustrated Jewish monitors of anti-Semitism have noted, the Syrian
government was killing more unarmed peace marchers, day after day
after day, than were killed on the Mavi Marmara in a war zone. The
German author and political commentator Henryk Broder has noted a
similar bizarreness in his own country's political passions. Broder
sees Germany in little danger of the classic, fascistic anti-Semitism
that brought it low before, but he is troubled when a Stadtrat, or
city counsellor, in Duisburg — a man whose job is to make sure garbage
is collected promptly — feels he must enunciate a Middle East policy
on behalf of the municipality.
That is, the passions motivating this new anti-Zionism were
implausibly large. They were explicable only if one assumed they had a
deeper root. The publication of social scientist and essayist Pierre-
André Taguieff's path-breaking book, La Nouvelle Judéophobie in 2002,
helped French readers to understand that anti-Zionism was sometimes
only a way of expressing anti-Semitism in an age of taboos. The report
of former diplomat Jean-Christophe Rufin in 2004 identified a form of
"radical anti-Zionism" as to blame in the climate of hostility felt by
French Jews.
This spring, the philosopher Alain Badiou and the historian Eric Hazan
published an odd pamphlet attacking those worrying about a rise, or a
recurrence, of anti-Semitism. Their book is in the Leftist tradition
of the 1980s and 1990s that seeks to water down Holocaust memory by
universalising it. It refers to the persecuted Jews of the 1930s as
"the Arabs and Africans of that era". But the authors' unwillingness
to see a rise in anti-Semitism is hemmed in by so many qualifications
and notwithstandings that it is hard to see why they bother to express
it. They admit, for instance, that Dieudonné's rants constitute anti-
Semitism of a classic kind. They allow that the Holocaust-deniers who
have duped Noam Chomsky and others into defending them have similar
motivations.
What Badiou and Hazan want to do is destroy the idea that certain
criticisms of the state of Israel are unreasonable on their face. To
claim that anti-Semitism is on the rise, they believe, is a mere
opération de stigmatisation, meant to distract the reader from Israeli
brutality. Thus, the attacks carried out by suburban youth in Paris on
individual Jews did not constitute anti-Semitism, but just a "poorly
politicised political hostility". If one understands Badiou and Hazan
correctly, this is a way of saying that the attacks were legitimate
but that the youths didn't find the right words to explain them. What
they meant to attack was Israel or perhaps French urban policy. But
this is, of course, nonsense. Those Jews attacked in the suburbs since
2002 were attacked because they were Jews — they were not interrogated
beforehand as to their political opinions.
Robert Zaretsky, a professor of French history at the University of
Houston, has said that French Jewish thinkers, "through their
quibbling about Islam and Israel", are destroying the intellectual
tradition that they helped to build. Zaretsky's verdict is harsh — the
matters at hand are hardly quibbles — but it is true that the
explosion of discussion over anti-Semitism has divided Jews.
On one hand, French Jews tend to be, like the majority of Jews in the
West, on the political Left, loyal to the Socialist Party. An
optimistic way of looking at the arguments over Islam and Israel is to
say, as one left-leaning Jewish journalist told me over lunch in Paris
this summer, that whereas the context of Jewish life in France used to
be the Second Intifada, the new context is the Arab Spring. While this
sounds more like a talking point than an observation, the optimistic
spirit has given rise to a new initiative.
JCall is built around media celebrities, mostly intellectuals. Daniel
Cohn-Bendit, Alain Finkielkraut, David Grossman, Bernard-Henri Lévy,
Pierre Nora and Henry Rousso are among them. (Its manifesto begins:
"Nous, personnalites" and its founding statement is called,
obnoxiously, "An Appeal to Reason" — as if those who disagree lack
it.) Like the American lobby J Street, on which it is based, JCall is
meant to break the power of organised Jewish groups and create
pressure on Israel to come to the negotiating table for a two-state
solution. But there is a logical problem with this aspiration. France
does not have powerful organised Jewish groups. It does not even have
politicised ones. Some radical republicans object to President Nicolas
Sarkozy's appearances before the CRIF, an umbrella group of leaders of
Jewish organisations, but there is no French equivalent of, say, the
America-Israel Political Action Committee (Aipac).
In America, J Street's call for more pluralism is understandable,
whether one agrees or not with the group's aims — because the United
States, and not just its Jewish minority, is almost monolithically pro-
Israel. But in France, JCall's pressure on Israel to concede more at
the bargaining table is an absurdity — there is no major force in
French institutional life arguing for anything else.
JCall's first international meeting — held in June in the town hall of
the 13th arrondissement, near Place d'Italie — did not convey that it
had much of a raison d'être. The  participants described a world in
which  fostering a more critical attitude towards Israel had a
pressing need. One man was shouted down when he said he was a Belgian
Jew who was boycotting Israel. The British sociologist Robert Fine
laid out with dismay the progress boycott-Israel movements were making
in Britain. Editor Meïr Waintrater expressed relief that Badiou and
Hazan's book had not become a bestseller, but there was much despair
that Hessel's book had made Palestine "la cause des causes". Bashir al-
Assad's human rights record was compared — unfavourably — to that of
Israel. None of this discussion argued for JCall's relevance. When the
sociologist and documentary filmmaker Jacques Tarnero stood up to
explain why he had not signed the JCall petition, you could feel a
ripple of envy pass through the room.
Learned, independent, abrasive, the sociologist Shmuel Trigano holds
those who support JCall in contempt — alterjuifs, he calls them. The
French call anti-globalisation activists altermondialistes because of
their belief that "another world is possible" — for Trigano, the
alterjuifs are trying to wish their way out of their really existing
Judaism. They believe that embracing "ideologies of Western self-
destruction" will lead the world to treat them more kindly, but it
won't, because the world tends to be implacable about such things.
"This is not a Jewish problem. It is a problem of the whole of
society," Trigano says, sitting in a café in Place de la République.
He adds that even Israel has become a "fiefdom of post-modernism".
At his think-tank the Observatoire du Monde Juif, in his quarterly
Controverses and in his many books, Trigano has theorised that Jews
became a useful symbol to the political Left in the 1980s and 1990s —
but useful only as victims, not as independent political actors.
Against JCall's "appel à la raison" he and the political scientist
Raphaël Draï set up an opposition movement called "raison garder",
which translates roughly into a suggestion that one keep a level head.
"We have 12,000 signatures," he says. "More than J-Call. We have won —
but it's they who get invited on all the radio shows."
Trigano fled his native Algeria — "with two suitcases in two days", as
he puts it — in 1961. France's Jewish community is vastly larger than
it was at the end of World War II, largely because of this influx of
North African Jews. That has changed the composition — and culture —
of Jewish France. Once overwhelming Ashkenazi (i.e., stemming from the
Yiddish-speaking lands of eastern Europe), it is now majority
Sephardic (i.e., stemming from the Spanish-descended Jews of the
Mediterranean and the Arab world). The common stereotype, among Jews
and non-Jews alike, is that the long-established Ashkenazim tend to be
urbane intellectuals, while the Sephardim are blunt-spoken small
businessmen. (This stereotype was at the heart of the hit 1996 comedy
Would I Lie to You?, in which an upwardly mobile North African Jew
tries to pass himself off as Ashkenazi.) Perhaps because a similar
rise of Sephardic influence in Israel in the 1960s helped bring
Menachem Begin's Likud party to power, many people see a shift to the
political Right among French Jews.
There may be something to that, believes Claude Barouch, a charismatic
and savvy Tunisian-born accountant who heads the Union of Jewish
Professionals (UPJF). "We didn't live through the catastrophe," he
says, referring to the Holocaust. "We were mostly spared." The UPJF
(which is by no means limited to Sephardim) is a fighting organisation
of the French Jewish middle class. In June, Barouch and other leaders
organised a demonstration near Place de la Nation to oppose the
participation of a French boat in the second Gaza flotilla. It left a
mixed picture. What was inspiring was the passion of people unwilling
to be ousted from the political conversation in  France. What was
uninspiring was the turnout, which was low, and the average age of the
demonstrators, which was around 60. Barouch blamed the indifference,
and even the hostility, of more establishmentarian Jewish
organisations — and he singled out the CRIF. That is noteworthy, since
many who distrust the Jewish community have an almost conspiratorial
view of the CRIF as a sectarian organisation. Barouch notes mournfully
that similar things are said about the Jewish community in general:
"They take us for some kind of Masonic lodge," he says.
Whether or not Jews, and defenders of Israel more generally, are
getting more conservative, it is in Nicolas Sarkozy's UMP party that
their most vocal defenders and allies are increasingly found. At
Barouch's demonstration, Claude Goasguen, a pro-American Parisian in
the National Assembly , spoke. So did his colleague Eric Raoult, who
condemned the anti-Israel boats as a "terrorist flotilla". Other pro-
Israel UMP members include Patrick Devedjian, a leader of the
intellectual wing of the party's Right for decades. Foreign minister
Alain Juppé heartened French Jews in July when he warned — in
anticipation of a possible unilateral declaration of statehood by the
Palestinians at the United Nations this autumn — that any solution to
the Middle East crisis must include a "nation-state of Israel for the
Jewish people".
Trigano gives Sarkozy credit for having turned the tide against anti-
Semitic street violence as minister of the interior. But if Sarkozy
has reassured the community and, as president, won their loyalty, it
is due just as much to his foreign policy. The long dominance of
Sarkozy's predecessor Jacques Chirac was marked by a politique arabe,
which is to say a foreign policy in harmony with the wishes of the
Arab world, or at least of its dictators, and often at odds with those
of Israel. Chirac tried to shore up the Jewish vote at home by
compensating with high-profile symbolic acts, some would say stunts,
such as apologising in 1995 for the role of the French state in the
1942 roundups. Sarkozy, by contrast, has pursued a foreign policy that
is in line with the values of the United States and Israel, which he
considers to be the values of France.
A curious development in French politics in the past year has been the
relaunching of France's National Front (FN) under Marine Le Pen.
Although democratic, the party has long been a bulwark of the hardline
Right, with unmistakable overtones of Poujadism, a French fascist
movement of the 1950s. Ms Le Pen's father and predecessor, Jean-Marie
LePen, was long notorious for slipping anti-Semitic provocations into
his speeches. Like the late Jörg Haider in Austria, he had kind words
for those Arab dictators — such as Muammar Gaddafi in Libya and Saddam
Hussein in Iraq — who set themselves against Israel.
Ms Le Pen aims to turn the party into a more modern kind of anti-
globalist, anti-multiculturalist force. In so doing, she has sought
ostentatiously to purge it of its anti-Semites, categorically
condemning such prejudices and even expelling a member earlier this
year for making a Nazi salute. Barrouch admits that the FN has been
trying to win members of his organisation over. He estimates that a
quarter of his members might be inclined to vote for Ms Le Pen, if
only because they assume she will take care of problems linked to
immigration. He himself distrusts her, saying she has maintained
"exactly the same friends" that her father had.
It is important to remember that a quarter of the Jewish vote, while
it sounds large, is identical to the percentage Ms Le Pen is polling
in the general population. But Sarkozy's UMP is conscious of a new
rival. Last winter, Ms Le Pen was invited on the Jewish radio station
Radio J, which cancelled at the last minute, most likely under
pressure not from their listeners but from Sarkozy's aides.
Battles over Israel, and over inner-city ethnic relations, are bound
to intensify in the run-up to France's presidential elections next
spring. Pierre-André Taguieff has suggested, with some justification,
that Europe's old "Jewish question" has reemerged in a new form. When
Karl Marx and other intellectuals addressed this question in the
1840s, a form of political organisation new to most countries — the
nation-state — presented new problems for deciding what kind of rights
governments owed to ethnic minorities and what kind of loyalty ethnic
minorities owed the state. The question of how a nation could fit
within a nation had no easy resolution. The "emancipation" offered to
Jews was ambiguous and often involuntary. Their predicament was
ultimately resolved only with the creation of the state of Israel.
Now the state of Israel is at the heart of a new Jewish question, one
that — like the old one — arises from innovations in the world of
political philosophy. Today, leaders of the European Union and
apostles of the "global community" hold the nation-state in contempt —
and exhort the peoples of the world to view themselves as post-
national citizens of the world, owing allegiance to the human race and
not to any particular tribe, creed, or polity. There is no evidence to
indicate that this is a workable project, but that has done nothing to
moderate the calumny visited on those who resist it. Israel, as the
nation-state par excellence, is cast as an enemy of "humanity", and
the same attitudes confront its supporters, who include most of the
West's Jews. Thus the demon of anti-Semitism has managed to reenter
European life through the back door, in the name not so much of racism
as of anti-racism.

 An Old Hatred Returns By Europe's Back Door
TEL AVIV - Si sono quasi dimezzate le aggressioni d'impronta
antisemita denunciate nel mondo nell'ultimo anno. A registrarlo sono i
dati di un rapporto fresco di stampa del Centro studi
sull'antisemitismo dell'Università di Tel Aviv resi noti oggi, secondo
tradizione, alla vigilia della giornata che Israele - in una data
diversa rispetto al resto del mondo - dedica al ricordo della Shoah e
dei sei milioni di ebrei vittime dello sterminio nazista.
Stando al rapporto, gli attacchi antisemiti di natura violenta contro
persone o istituzioni registrati nell'ultimo anno nel pianeta sono
stati in totale 614: ancora troppi, ma in netto calo (il 46% in meno)
rispetto ai 1.129 dei sei mesi precedenti. I paesi più toccati restano
tutti occidentali: nell'ordine Gran Bretagna, Francia e Canada.
http://www.tio.ch/Estero/News/632427/Shoah-giornata-ricordo--dimezzati-atti-antisemiti-nel-mondo

 tutti occidentali: nell'ordine Gran Bretagna, Francia e Canada.
due europei, come da articolo che cerchi di contestare (senza averlo
letto)

 come da articolo che cerchi di contestare
"An Old Hatred Returns"
i dati, prego, paranoico certificato.

 i dati, prego
nel secondo paragrafo dell'articolo cui stai rispondendo (senza averlo
letto)


2000, 
AAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH
il ritorno dell'odio...11 anni fa. 
-------------------------------------------------------------------	
uomo bianco parla con lingua biforcuta.
il Diamat è la spiegazione di tutte le cose

 AA
ecco la parte che hai tagliato:


ecco la parte che hai tagliato:
il tuo articolo:
"An Old Hatred Returns By Europe's Back Door "
September 2011 
la realtà:
maggio 2011
"dimezzate le aggressioni d'impronta
antisemita denunciate nel mondo nell'ultimo anno."


 antisemita denunciate nel mondo nell'ultimo anno."
ed ecco alcuni paragrafi dell'articolo, che e' dedicato alla ideologia
antisemita, e non ai suoi effetti.
http://standpointmag.co.uk/node/4051/full


The history of the Holocaust was put to the service not of memory but
of ideology. A bulwark against anti-Semitism became a citadel of
multiculturalism. The main beneficiaries of Holocaust memory were
France's 5 million or so Muslims, descendants of a mass immigration
from North Africa and elsewhere after the 1960s, but there was an odd
twist. Particularly after the blossoming of political Islam in the
1970s, their main geo-strategic grievance was with the Jewish state,
and many Arabs in France showed considerably less ability than even de
Gaulle to distinguish between the Jewish state and the Jewish people.
Mass immigration thus left Jews in France in an awkward position.
In a democracy, the interests of a community of 5-6 million will
usually trump those of a community of under half a million. The
Socialist foreign-policy thinker Pascal Boniface wrote a notorious
memo to his party's political strategists on the eve of the 2002
elections in which he urged them to bear this imbalance in mind when
they formulated their policy on Israel. Such realpolitik no longer
attracts much notice. Muslims have been able to reshape the French
state and society in ways that Jews had neither the demographic might
nor the proselytising inclination to seek.
In the 1970s, French Jews were a people whose story serves to promote
immigration. Today, they are victims of that immigrations's failure
constrained to compete with other minorities for the favour of the
broader society. Today a third of the youth population of many cities,
including Paris, consists of the descendents of immigration. France
has replaced a cohort that feels it has a debt towards Jews with a
cohort that feels Jews have a debt towards them.
The drama plays out in arguments over the state of Israel.
Come si vede, Bombacci e' Bombacci. Cioe' un idiota.

 antisemita, e non ai suoi effetti.
cosa importa se il lupo non esiste? Siccome il pastore grida al lupo,
un lupo ci dovrà pur essere...LOL

 cosa importa se il lupo non esiste?
perche', secondo te una ideologia antisemita non esiste? Ma quanto
sarai cretino.

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sono sempre meno quelli che la seguono, ed è questo che conta.

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insomma, stai cambiando discorso - maldestramente

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affatto. Sto dicendo che l'antisemitismo è in calo, e non saranno i
tuoi ragli a farlo crescere o a rendere un pericolo sempre minore
qualcosa di serio

 affatto. Sto dicendo che l'antisemitismo
Ma perché devi sempre parlare di cose che non conosci? (cit.)