Terror survivors unite in solidarity with UK Jewish community

Multiple individuals killed and injured in recent antisemitic attacks in London; broader pattern of terror violence affecting multiple UK communities over past decade.
Standing together is the only way through this
Terror survivors and bereaved relatives unite to oppose hatred targeting the Jewish community.

In the wake of antisemitic attacks on Jewish men in north London — and as Britain raised its terror threat level to 'severe' for the first time in over four years — sixty-two survivors of terrorism and bereaved relatives chose to speak not from their own wounds alone, but on behalf of a community under threat. Coordinated by Survivors Against Terror, they offered something rarer than condemnation: solidarity grounded in lived knowledge of what hatred, left unchallenged, ultimately costs. Their open letter is a reminder that the work of resisting extremism belongs not only to governments or victims, but to the whole of society.

  • Two Jewish men were attacked in Golders Green and another in Southwark within a single day, with a suspect charged with attempted murder — the latest in a sustained pattern of antisemitic violence across the UK.
  • The government raised the national terror threat level to 'severe' for the first time in more than four years, reflecting a convergence of Islamist and extreme rightwing threats that has left communities on edge.
  • Sixty-two survivors and bereaved relatives — representing nineteen terror incidents from 7/7 to the Manchester Arena bombing to the Bataclan — united to sign an open letter refusing to let the attacks pass without collective witness.
  • The letter directly challenged those who justify antisemitic violence through geopolitics, and equally challenged those who blame entire Muslim communities for terrorism, naming both as forms of division that extremists exploit.
  • Rather than directing their appeal solely at government, the signatories turned to ordinary people — insisting that tackling the prejudice that nurtures violence is a shared civic responsibility, not a burden for victims to carry alone.

On a Wednesday in early May, two Jewish men — Shloime Rand, 34, and Moshe Shine, 76 — were attacked in Golders Green, north London. The same day, another man was attacked in Southwark. A 45-year-old was charged with attempted murder. The incidents were not aberrations but part of a pattern, arriving just as the UK government raised the national terror threat level to 'severe' for the first time in over four years, citing growing Islamist and extreme rightwing dangers.

The response that followed was unusual. Sixty-two people — survivors of terror attacks and relatives of those killed — came together under the banner of Survivors Against Terror to publish an open letter of solidarity with the Jewish community. Their collective experience spanned nineteen incidents: the 7/7 bombings, Manchester Arena, London Bridge, the Bataclan in Paris, the IRA's Brighton hotel bombing. These were people for whom hatred and violence were not abstractions.

Brendan Cox, who co-founded the organisation after his wife, MP Jo Cox, was murdered by a rightwing extremist in 2016, was unequivocal: the attacks were not isolated, and the country needed to stand with the Jewish community without half-measures. Jo Berry, whose father died in the 1984 Brighton bombing, offered a harder-won conviction: that what unites people remains stronger than what divides them, even now.

The letter was precise in its targets. It rejected attempts to justify antisemitic violence through Israel's actions, calling such reasoning dangerous rather than merely wrong. It equally rejected the impulse to hold all Muslims responsible for terrorism. Both, it argued, serve extremism. Among the signatories were Figen Murray, whose son Martyn died at Manchester Arena; Sheelagh Alexander, whose son Nick was killed at the Bataclan; and Lisa Ghiggini, who survived the Fishmongers' Hall attack. 'No community should have to carry that fear,' Ghiggini said.

The letter's final appeal was not addressed to governments alone. It was addressed to everyone. 'It's all our job to tackle the prejudice that nurtures' violence, Cox said — a call from people who had paid the highest price, insisting that the country's response to hatred could be neither passive nor partial.

On a Wednesday in early May, two Jewish men were attacked in north London. Shloime Rand, 34, and Moshe Shine, 76, were targeted in Golders Green. The same day, another man, Ishmail Hussein, was attacked in Southwark. A 45-year-old named Essa Suleiman was charged with the attempted murders. These were not isolated incidents. They were the latest in a pattern of violence directed at the Jewish community across the UK, and they arrived at a moment when the government had just raised the national terror threat level from "substantial" to "severe" for the first time in over four years.

In response, something unusual happened. Sixty-two people who had survived terror attacks or lost loved ones to terrorism came together to write an open letter. They were coordinated by an organization called Survivors Against Terror, and they had a message for the country: the attacks on the Jewish community were unacceptable, and standing against them was everyone's responsibility. The signatories represented nineteen separate terror incidents spanning decades—the 7/7 bombings, the Manchester Arena attack, the London Bridge attack, the Bataclan shooting in Paris, the IRA Brighton hotel bombing. These were people who knew, in the most intimate way possible, what hatred and violence could do.

Brendan Cox, who co-founded Survivors Against Terror after his wife, MP Jo Cox, was killed by a rightwing extremist in 2016, was direct about what he saw happening. "Last week's antisemitic attacks would have been bad enough had they been an isolated aberration," he said. "But they weren't." He called for the country to stand with the Jewish community without equivocation, without half-measures. Jo Berry, co-founder of the organization and whose father was killed in the 1984 IRA Brighton bombing, added her own conviction: "Though this moment feels dangerous, I'm confident that hatred will not win, because what unites us is stronger than what divides us."

The letter itself was careful and pointed. It acknowledged the fear the Jewish community was experiencing. It addressed those who tried to justify antisemitic violence by pointing to Israel's actions, calling such justifications not just wrong but dangerous—they create the conditions for more attacks. It also addressed those who blamed all Muslims for the actions of terrorists, saying that too was a form of division that extremists exploit. The core message was simple: "Standing together in the face of hatred is not just the right thing to do – it's the most effective way of defeating terrorism."

Among the signatories were people whose names had become synonymous with specific traumas. Sheelagh Alexander, whose son Nick was killed at the Bataclan in Paris in 2015. Figen Murray, whose son Martyn died in the Manchester Arena bombing. Kevin Tipple, who survived the Palace of Westminster attack. Marine Vincent, who survived the London Bridge attack. Christian Fisher, who survived 7/7. Nader Mozakka, whose wife Behnaz was killed in 7/7. Lisa Ghiggini, who survived the Fishmongers' Hall attack. Each name carried a story of loss or survival, and each person had chosen to use that experience to speak for something larger than their own grief.

Lisa Ghiggini put it plainly: "Having lived through a terror attack, I know first-hand the devastation hatred leaves behind. No community should have to carry that fear." The letter's final appeal was directed not at governments alone, though it acknowledged their role in preventing violence. It was directed at ordinary people. "It's all our job to tackle the prejudice that nurtures" violence, Cox said. "This isn't a crisis for the Jewish community to respond to. It's time the rest of us stepped up." The letter represented a choice by people who had paid the highest price to insist that the country's response to hatred could not be passive, could not be partial, and could not wait.

Standing together in the face of hatred is not just the right thing to do – it's the most effective way of defeating terrorism in all its forms.
— Open letter signed by 62 terror survivors and bereaved relatives
This isn't a crisis for the Jewish community to respond to. It's time the rest of us stepped up.
— Brendan Cox, co-founder of Survivors Against Terror
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Inventor

Why did these particular survivors feel compelled to speak now, rather than at some other moment?

Model

Because they recognized the pattern. They've seen how hatred builds—how it starts with words, becomes normalized, and then becomes violence. They weren't watching this happen to someone else; they were watching it happen to a community they share a country with.

Inventor

The letter seems to be making a distinction between criticizing Israeli policy and attacking Jewish people. Why was that distinction so important to name?

Model

Because in the moment, that distinction was being erased by some people. The letter was saying: you can have one conversation without justifying the other. Conflating them creates permission for violence. The survivors understood that because they've seen how justifications work—how they precede attacks.

Inventor

Brendan Cox mentions that "these attacks didn't come from nowhere." What does he mean by that?

Model

He means there's a chain: prejudice creates hatred, hatred creates the conditions where violence becomes thinkable, and then violence happens. The government can stop the violence, but only society can interrupt the prejudice at the beginning. That's what he's asking for.

Inventor

The letter also addresses people who blame all Muslims for terrorist acts. Why include that?

Model

Because the survivors understand that when one group is blamed for the actions of extremists within it, it creates the exact same cycle of fear and division that leads to more violence. They're saying: don't repeat the mistake that was made about your own communities.

Inventor

What does it mean that these sixty-two people chose to sign their names to this?

Model

It means they're putting their credibility—their lived experience of loss—behind the statement. They're saying: we know what we're talking about. We've paid the price. Listen to us when we tell you that standing together is the only way through this.

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