When Home No Longer Feels Like Home

“Once, there was a way to get back home…”

Golden Slumbers, The Beatles, 1969

Roots and upbringing often exercise a profound effect on individuals. But what shapes these feelings, and what happens when those ties begin to fray? 

Personally, I have harboured a strong affection for my own home territory in North-West England.

What’s not to love?

The weather is delightfully miserable.

The gritty cheerfulness of the locals is unparalleled.

Whilst studying for my degree in London, part of the charm of returning ‘Oop North’ was encountering the caricatured smile of shop assistants, the beaming cafe waitresses, and the chirpy service staff. That simple blend of overstated politeness and verdant countryside made it a corner of the world that timelessly spelled comfort, peace, and home.

Last month, I saw this:

Video Link: Pensioners Boycotting Israeli Dates

In unmistakably thick Yorkshire accents, a group of pensioners patrol the aisles of a Tesco in Sheffield. Their catchy jingle warns shoppers about the perils of buying “Israeli Dates” on account of the “genocide goin’ on.”

That said, I am no stranger to displays of anti-Israel sentiment like this. Far worse is experienced on campus. Several years before the present war, while at university, I endured criticism for my involvement with the Israel Society. On one memorable occasion, a fellow student branded me a “white supremacist.”

This is par for the course. Incidents like the Czech Foreign Minister being driven out of UCL (my alma mater) two months ago (video link) are not surprising.

I sympathise for the UCL School of Slavonic and Eastern European Studies. Pro-Palestine students ruined their event. There is a great deal to say about free speech as well. But this routine is drearily predictable: a small contingent—primarily from Arab backgrounds—making noise about the conflict. Supplementing these are idealistic students, eager to wave flags and uninterested in exploring the genuine complexities of the situation. They would not be the first group of young people to see the world in black and white.

However, the anti-Israeli produce brigade in Sheffield seems to be cut from a different cloth.

Let us start with the age difference. Might these venerable ladies not take a more nuanced view before branding the Jewish state genocidal? It is one thing for a hot-headed student to claim Israeli leaders are all pathological liars. It is quite another for respectable Middle England to ignore repeated assertions by statesmen across the Israel’s political spectrum and even the UK Prime Minister himself, that this war’s target is eliminating the menace to Israel of terror groups in Gaza- there is no genocidal agenda.

It is true that these ladies are not threatening anyone. They do not bristle with rage like the young people screaming at the Czech Foreign Minister. Somehow though, the benign veneer makes it worse. The benign veneer that for me had once spelled home.

 As I look askance at this supermarket parade a few miles from my childhood home, several thoughts cross my mind. Their lives are so far-removed from the Middle East’s bearpit. How can  their softly chanted half-truths resonate with anyone? 

True, the reaction to a media stream of human suffering is understandable, but the indifference to Hamas’ relentless rocket attacks is not. Nor is the media’s reticence over the harrowing events of October 7th. For once, could they not identify with the unending security challenges of life in Israel?

Perhaps I should stop being so maudlin. The Palestinian cause permeates political and social issues across the board. Even at protests about matters as unrelated as the UK Government’s Winter Fuel Bill cuts, Palestinian insignia appear. 

Why is this? One could point to sociological factors: a growing Arab and Muslim population in the UK, the influence of social media, and a polarising political discourse. However, I see something deeper.

As early as the 1600s, Spinoza wrote about antisemitism reaffirming Jewish identity. Three centuries later, Jean-Paul Sartre’s Anti-Semite and the Jew echoed this sentiment: “I’m a Jew because the antisemite reminds me that I am.”

Bringing it back to the present, are these Yorkshire women reminding me about my internal identity?

The first option would be to dissect every issue their presentation raises: address the supposedly “stolen and occupied” territory, the ‘“land bulldozed”, and “farms destroyed”. By looking to the facts, I could point to the illegal settlements of Jews and Palestinians alike bulldozed by Israel. I could say that Palestinians had been told not to plant near the Gaza border because of the potential security risk, particularly post-October 7th. I could say that Israel leaving the West Bank would have dire security implications.

Ultimately however, my option appears flawed – this is not about facts alone. The bloody-minded insistence of people from all walks of life reducing complex realities to sound bites and slogans is not just a consequence of social media echo chambers.

Call it the mutating virus of anti-Semitism, or call it a warning from Above. There appears something beyond the consciousness of the Pro-Palestine front that reminds Jews to take those rose-tinted glasses for a polish. Sure, my upbringing in Manchester is doubtless imbued with well-placed nostalgia and meaning, but ultimately, the pattern of history suggests it will prove just another stopover. While it imparts value, part of appreciating that value is a recognition of the transient nature of its embrace. In turn, this can enable us to feel greater appreciation for the gift of Jewish sovereignty and what we can do to fortify its existence. 

Aaron Seitler