We need a new way d[ Ò\]i^c\ ]VigZY

might have been my direct ancestors.

According to Wizinitzer, around 150 Jewish families left Brazil in 1654, when the Inquisition arrived there. But some stayed in the New World — founding new Jewish communities in the Caribbean — including Barbados, a British haven recently opened to them by Oliver Cromwell.

It’s intriguing to think I might be descended from these founding refugees, because, despite their small numbers, Jews played a huge role in the island’s early development.

It may not seem so very clever now, but what those Brazilian Jews knew about windmills and how best to extract sugar from cane, revolutionised the sugar trade and significantly boosted production.

There’s a dark side to this. The sugar trade flourished exactly in proportion to the African slave trade, which boomed in the midto-late 1600s. From 1627 to 1807, it is estimated 387,000 Africans were shipped to the island against their will. To be perfectly clear: the wealth of the island (and perhaps my forebears) was a direct result of appalling suffering.

By the 19th century, the Jewish community had dramatically declined as the sugar industry faltered, alongside natural disasters and assimilation.

A note in the Jewish museum suggested that many Jewish men married black women, and popular surnames on the island today testify to a Sephardi heritage: Massiah, Aboab, Carvalho, Abrahams, DaCosta, DePeiza, Daneils, Shannon, Pinto and Lindo.

Many (like my ancestor David DaCosta) were assimilated into the white Christian community. It’s hard to establish why, in any particular case, because the records don’t explain. It could have been in preparation for marriage, Miguel suggests, to facilitate overseas travel, or just for social mobility.

Whatever the reason, the once thriving Jewish community on Barbados dwindled to just one observant Jew, who negotiated the deconsecration and sale of the building in 1929. Bevis Marks Synagogue in London acted as trustee taking custody of the Torah, silver breastplate, pointer, cup and candlesticks.

Briefly, the building became headquarters of the Turf Club. My great-grandfather, William — Nancy’s father — was its first treasurer. I doubt he had any idea that his wife Violet’s ancestors had once worshipped there, or that decades later his family would visit its restoration.

Outside the gleaming synagogue there’s a mikvah, excavated in 2008. I’d never been inside a mikvah before, and as I walked down the steps with my mother and daughter something clicked — there are ghosts everywhere. Three generations of DaCosta descendants have returned to a place where our ancestors once bathed more than two centuries before. It’s incredibly moving.

Back at the Garrison, Dr Watson finally arrives, looking dapper in panama hat, white shirt and jeans.

I’ve been hoping for the impossible: that he will tell me everything. Plainly, he can’t. Nobody can. But he sets a large notebook on the table before him and flicks through pages of handwritten pencil notes.

Here, he finds evidence that takes me back one generation before Isaac DaCosta. Isaac’s birth is noted in the synagogue records as 5539 Nisan (25 July 1779), along with his father’s name, Benjamin Henriques DaCosta. Karl also holds copies of various DaCosta wills, the oldest dated 1740.

Wow. I’m so pleased. But there’s still much to do if I’m to trace my family back to Recife. From our email exchanges, I’ve learned that Karl knew my family and my greatgrandmother Violet.

His own family have been on the island since the 17th century, brought over as indentured servants. Like others in the poor white community, he grew up in a modest wooden chattel house. His was close to my family’s much grander residences. I ask what he remembers. What was my great-grandmother like?

He looks a little awkward. The former diplomat in him struggles to find something positive.

When he was a boy, he says, eventually, he sold Remembrance Day poppies. At my family’s house, Karl was taken to the servant’s entrance, to be given a coin on a silver plate and a pat on the head from Violet.

He says that visiting their house was like visiting Buckingham Palace — and not, one senses, in a good way.

Well, I never met Violet. But I did know her children, including my wonderful grandmother Nancy, after whom my own daughter is named.

Nancy left Barbados as a young woman and came to London. She met my grandfather, a Jewish doctor, and converted to Judaism at West London Synagogue in 1935.

Did she think of this as some kind of return, to the Jewish faith of her DaCosta forebears? Or was it just chance? Like so much else, I will never know.

Cobbler’s Cove, where Harriet stayed, offers bespoke heritage tours for guests led by Miguel Pena, head of the National Trust of Barbados, and can include the synagogue and excavated mikvah.

www.cobblerscove.com

ALBERT EINSTEIN’S famous definition of insanity, “doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results,” goes some way in describing our collective approach to fighting antisemitism. Despite our efforts, in Europe, hatred has reached levels not seen since the Holocaust. Indeed, in the first half of this year, the UK recorded 767 antisemitic attacks, the highest figure recorded since monitoring began in 1984, and a 30 per cent increase on 2016. Most disturbing is the increased number of violent assaults, recording a 78 per cent rise from the same period in 2016.

These figures are broadly replicated in Jewish communities throughout Europe, including France and Germany, bringing a new sense of urgency and severity to the situation.

Combatting this has traditionally focused on “minimisation” as opposed to eradication, but what we need is a paradigm shift in the way we fight this hatred. This includes being more proactive, smarter and more creative.

To achieve this, I believe there are five key areas of focus for all global citizens, not just the Jewish community:

First, we must push for adoption of a universal definition of antisemitism in Europe, which my organisation, the Israeli-Jewish Congress (IJC) has advocated for some time now. Unless you can define it, you cannot defeat it.

It was most commendable that the UK became the first nation to adopt the all-encompassing International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance definition of antisemitism last year. This definition notes, amongst other things, that the delegitimisation of Israel and attacks on Zionism, can manifest as antisemitism.

A concerted focus on education is essential to any campaign to defeat antisemitism. This should not solely focus on the history of antisemitism, bigotry and the Holocaust, but build on the vital contribution of Jewish people and texts to life, culture and the prosperity of Europe. National governments need to ensure people are educated at a young age about what constitutes a hate crime, whilst making it easier to report instances of hate to the correct authority.

Nobody is born to hate – they learn to hate. If we can change this mindset from a young age, that can make a crucial difference.

Thirdly, we need to recognise that this form of subjugation is not unique to the Jewish people and that what starts with the Jews, never ends with the Jews. Today we also see hate and intolerance directed at many other minorities and parts of society and therefore the Jewish community must cooperate closely with other faith groups to generate best practice in dealing with hate.

As Katharina von Schnurbein, the EU Coordinator on Combating Antisemitism has said, “fighting antisemitism must not be left to the Jews, but society as a whole.”

We need to be savvy about how we communicate these messages. The use of social media is critical.

The digital sphere has become a major battleground and platform for dissemination of hate and antisemitism, but it also represents an opportunity for us to reach new audiences. Therefore, while greater pro-active actions need to be taken to disrupt online hate, we must also utilise this platform for conveying our counter-message and personal narratives.

Given the growing importance of digital platforms, we must look to initiate a global debate on the roles and responsibilities of large technology firms. We cannot expect to influence the digital realm without their support.

By exposing hatred, and utilising pre-existing legal frameworks within various EU countries, we can look to shut down hate speech immediately, and hope that the full force of the law with dissuade others from similar acts.

In a landmark address before the European Parliament last year, former UK Chief Rabbi, Lord Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, described antisemitism as a “mutating virus.” It is high time we find an antidote to this virus.

We have the power to stop antisemitism and all forms of hate speech, and as technological innovations have added to these problems, they also provide us with opportunities to combat them. The EU was built on a foundation of tolerance and openness, and as this European project continues to struggle with the tensions borne between globalisation and identity, the fight against all forms of hate crime is especially pertinent right now. For this reason, governments must declare their support for such an approach whilst making resources available for the fight against all forms of hate crime.

This must be done proactively, if the very enterprise of the EU itself is to survive.

Social media is critical in the »PQ] against hate

Vladimir Sloutsker is president of the Israel-Jewish Congress.