Fighting Ignorance: The Diaspora Has a Role to Play
Benjamin Presberg
France
Before October 7, Israel already held an important place in my life. I visited often, felt deeply connected to the country, and was interested in its history, even though I realized I still knew relatively little about it.
October 7 changed that.
I was struck by the hostility toward Israel coming from people who often knew very little about its history or the reality on the ground. I saw misinformation spreading and realized that if I wanted to respond, I first needed to educate myself. I began reading book after book about Israel’s history. What started as a need to understand quickly became a passion. But learning was not enough. I also felt the need to act.
Beginning at the end of 2023, and on several occasions throughout 2024, I travelled to Israel to take part in agricultural volunteer missions. During those trips, I met Israelis who were fighting for their country, some of them risking their lives to do so. To me, they were true heroes.
When I asked them, “What can we do to help?”, one answer in particular stayed with me: “You are here. You see our reality. Go home and share what is really happening.” That sentence changed the way I saw my role in the Diaspora. I realized that we, too, had a responsibility: to learn, to educate, and to pass on knowledge in order to fight ignorance.
During one of those volunteer trips, my friend Adam Cohen and I had an idea: to create Tiyoul, a board game about the history and culture of Israel.
Players step into the shoes of iconic figures such as Moses, Herzl, Ben-Gurion, Golda Meir or Moshe Dayan and travel across Israel, answering questions about its origins, its path to independence, its history since 1948, and its cultures and traditions. Answer correctly? You earn chickpeas, the game’s currency. The goal? Be the first to reach Jerusalem. Balagan, Challenge, Estimation, and Mazal cards add humour, anecdotes, and references to Israeli culture, while a Junior category makes the game accessible across generations, allowing the whole family to play together.
Tiyoul was born out of necessity following the atrocities of October 7 to better understand and pass on Israel’s history at a time when that history is too often misunderstood, distorted, or even rewritten around the world.
“In Defence of Israel…”: Why Israel is HaTikvah
Dr. Gautam Chakrabarti
Germany
I was going to begin this article with a recollection of the horror of October 7 and a recapitulation of the things I did then: writing clearly and emphatically on X and Facebook in support of the IDF, reaching out to Israeli and other Jewish friends, colleagues and (former) students, attending Israel-Bonds-briefings et al. However, I feel now that I should talk of my emotions, as Israel is, first and foremost, a true-blue emotion for me! But why should Israel be an emotion for someone born in a traditional(ist) Hindu family in India? More importantly, why the intensity that survives all the doubts and disappointments of any emotional attachment? These questions had come up in my mind after October 7, while calling and writing to folks in Jerusalem, Petah Tikva, Netanya, Tel Aviv and elsewhere.
One possible answer could be my deep admiration for the robust, perennially-optimistic, pragmatic and determined Israeli response to such calamities. I remember a Facebook-post by an academic-friend on the Israeli Left who stood in a long queue to donate blood for the IDF. I thought: this is Israel, they will unite and rise like the phoenix from every adversity; this is how I should act as well! As President Ezer Weizman had asserted, in his speech in Hebrew at the Bundestag on 16th January, 1996, it is a central symbol of the rebirth of the Jewish people that a language once whispered in prayer and cried out in the gas chambers during the Shema Yisrael is now the living language of the State of Israel. As I write these words, goosebumps rise on my arms and I feel a flush of warmth around my neck! Israel was and is a beacon of hope to all peoples — from Kurds in West Asia to postcolonial Indians — that no just cause is truly hopeless.
This Israel-positivity has helped me since I was in high school, during personal adversities and tragedies; I had even composed, in college, a song that started with “In Defence of Israel, my friend…”! October 7 made this relationship even deeper; I realised that even the Lion of Judah needs help from proverbial mice like yours truly.
Hence, I decided to devote more time to Israel-advocacy. That Israel is taking a blow for open, pluralist, inclusive and democratic societies worldwide needs to be stressed. This is why we need to diversify and escalate Israel’s fight for survival and prosperity.
Phohto credit: Heide Fest (Europa-Universität Viadrina)
A Day I Will Never Forget.
Evelyn Cohen
Brazil
For weeks after October 7, I kept my television streaming almost constantly, unable to look away, consumed by fear and anguish for Israel, for our hostages, for our soldiers, and for all of us in the Diaspora. The images, the uncertainty, and the pain were overwhelming. But perhaps what has stayed with me most deeply is the realization that the world had changed in ways I never imagined I would witness in my lifetime.
I could never have imagined seeing anti-Zionism and antisemitism rise so forcefully and so openly. I have lost friends because of it, and I have experienced moments of deep disappointment and loneliness. Yet, alongside the pain, I have also witnessed something profoundly meaningful: friends who stood beside us, people who chose courage over silence, and a Jewish community
that refused to disappear.
I have always believed in volunteering for Israel and strengthening Jewish life. But October 7th made that commitment even more personal and urgent. It reminded me that our connection to Israel and to the Jewish people is not simply a matter of heritage-it is a responsibility.
Today, I feel an even stronger duty to multiply my donations, my time, and my personal involvement. I want to do whatever I can to support Israel, our people, our communities, and those who need us.
And above all, I feel responsible for the generations that come after us. I want my children and grandchildren to understand the beauty, strength, and resilience of our Jewish values, to know where they come from, to be proud of who they are, and to carry forward the traditions and ideals that have sustained our people for thousands of years.
October 7th changed us. But it will not define us.
We will remember. We will stand. We will give. And we will continue to build a strong and proud Jewish future.
Taking A Stand Matters
Erez Lauerer
Germany
The way I think about my Jewish identity changed after October 7th, and so did the way I act. I had already beeninterested in politics before, but I had never taken the step of actually getting involved somewhere. I still remember October 7 very clearly. I was meeting a friend that day and had barely followed the news until then. It was only when we were sitting together on the bus that she asked me whether I had seen what had happened in Israel. What she then showed me on her phone left me almost speechless. What was almost as shocking to me was how quickly things also changed here in Germany. Before the first shock had even really settled, Jewish institutions were being attacked, the tone on the streets became harsher, and antisemitism suddenly became more visible and immediate again.
For me, this created the feeling that I could no longer simply watch from the sidelines. At 16, I joined the Social Democratic Party of Germany. There, for the first time, I was able to speak publicly about what it means to grow up as a Jewish student in Germany, to attend a Jewish school that has to be protected by security personnel, and to experience antisemitism not just as an abstract political issue. Over time, I also realized how important it is to find people who share the same concerns and want to act together. Together with friends, we founded a Jewish network within the SPD in Frankfurt. Later, I joined the German-Israeli Society. Today, I am spokesperson of the Youth Forum in Frankfurt and a member of the federal board of the Youth Forum Germany.
What has changed most for me since October 7 is perhaps my understanding of community. Standing up against antisemitism can sometimes be discouraging. At the same time, it helps me enormously to know that I am not alone. That is exactly what the German-Israeli Society, and especially the Youth Forum, means to me: bringing people together, creating connections, and giving a voice to those who might otherwise not know where to begin. I hope I can continue working on exactly that in the years ahead. October 7 taught me that taking a stand matters. But even more important is turning conviction into action.
When My Children Chose Pride
Rina Benyosef
Finance Assistant, Israel Bonds UK
We all remember where we were when the news broke
on that day.
I was in the car with my husband and son, on our way to a university open day. My cousin in Israel sent a photo to our family WhatsApp group showing smoke rising in the distance from her balcony. Another cousin, whose aunt lives in Ofakim, shared a photo of five Hamas terrorists driving through the streets in a white van.
At that moment, none of us understood what was happening or the scale of the atrocities that were unfolding. From that day forward, the world changed for every Jewish person.
Shortly afterwards, my children, who were 17 and 15 at the time, came home from school one day and asked for Magen David necklaces that they wanted to wear. My initial reaction was, "No, it's not safe. You don't need to advertise your identity. You travel to and from school on public buses, and I don't want you to become a target."
They immediately pushed back. They argued that they had nothing to be ashamed of and that they were proud to be Jewish. They weren't afraid.
I grew up with parents who were born in Iran and lived there until their late thirties. They often had to hide their Jewish identity because it wasn't always safe, especially outside Tehran in the smaller towns and villages. They passed that fear and caution on to my siblings and me. Even after we moved to London, they would constantly tell me, "Don't tell everyone you're Jewish." It wasn't because they were ashamed of who they were. It was because they feared for our safety.
So, when my children asked for something that went against everything I had been taught growing up, I found myself surprisingly pleased. I admired their confidence, their courage, and their pride in who they were. In the end, I joined them, and we bought Magen David necklaces for all four of us.
What truly changed my perspective was that, thankfully, I did not experience any antisemitism. In fact, I experienced the opposite. People at work approached me to ask about my family in Israel and expressed sympathy for the situation. Some even discussed the political realities of the conflict and made it clear that they supported Israel's right to defend itself.
It reminded me that not everyone hates us. There are many kind and thoughtful people out there. Some may be too reserved, too typically English perhaps, to voice their views publicly, but behind closed doors they are willing to share their genuine support and compassion.