When an antisemitic bicycle ride targeted Jewish businesses in Center City on the eve of Kristallnacht, decent people refused to sit quietly and watch. They came out. They waved American and Israeli flags. They stood shoulder to shoulder with the Jewish community and the businesses that had been singled out for intimidation. They made their presence felt, and they sent a message that should have been heard loud and clear: Philadelphia is not going to surrender its streets, its neighborhoods or its conscience to Jew-haters.
To those who showed up, stood their ground and made their voices heard: be proud. You earned it. And be grateful that, when it mattered, you and others were willing to stand up and be counted.
It was a terrific moment for Philadelphia.
But let's be clear about something. It was a moment. Not a movement. A skirmish. Not the war.
And anyone who thinks yesterday's demonstration has somehow turned the tide and sent the antisemites packing is indulging in a dangerous bit of wishful thinking.
These people aren't going away.
They are dug in. They are organized, radicalized and increasingly emboldened. And they're gaining power and influence, not just in this region but in many parts of the country.
They've already spent years poisoning the atmosphere, particularly in Center City Philadelphia, where disruptive demonstrations similar to those we've recently seen in Europe have become all too common. This is not simply a handful of obnoxious characters looking for attention. It is part of a larger and deeply disturbing movement.
And the people behind it are not going to be discouraged by one bad afternoon. They're militantly organized, well-funded and highly mobilized.
They are playing a longer game. They are prepared for protracted combat. They have found allies, platforms and support, often in what once were unlikely places. Their rhetoric has become more brazen, their demonstrations more aggressive and their willingness to intimidate ordinary people more apparent.
They are not simply trying to make a statement. They are trying to change our very way of life and make anyone who would dare oppose them feel unwelcome in places where ordinary people have every right to live, work, worship and conduct business.
That is why yesterday matters. But it is also why yesterday cannot be the end of the story.
The counter demonstrators accomplished something important. They demonstrated that the haters do not own the streets. They showed that there are still people willing to stand up for their neighbors, their fellow citizens and the principles of decency. They reminded the Jewish community that it is not alone.
But the other side got a message, too. And we should not underestimate its determination.
Don't lose sight of this: antisemitism is a particularly ugly and persistent disease. It changes costumes, borrows fashionable slogans and finds new excuses for old hatreds. It can dress itself up as political activism, righteous indignation or fashionable radicalism. But underneath the costume, it remains the same ancient poison.
It feeds on silence. It thrives on intimidation. And it counts on decent people becoming exhausted, distracted or complacent.
Yesterday was a victory. A meaningful one. A heartening one. And those who made it happen deserve our applause and our gratitude. But let them not gain false hope or confidence or comfort from the moment.
The vermin of antisemitism have a way of returning when they think the coast is clear. They are counting on the rest of us to go home, congratulate ourselves and forget about them.
We must disappoint them.
Because eternal vigilance, unflinching solidarity and an unwavering willingness to confront hatred wherever it appears are not optional. They are the price of preserving a decent city — and a decent society.
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