The Institute for Jewish Policy Research is a British institute whose mission is to study and support Jewish life in Europe. In this interview, Jonathan Boyd, its director, discusses the major challenges facing European Judaism in the midst of change, and considers how to measure and understand the rise of antisemitism.
Élie Petit: Could you walk us through the history of the Institute for Jewish Policy Research—both its broader legacy and the developments since you became director?
Jonathan Boyd: The Institute has a long and significant history. It was established in 1941 in New York by the World Jewish Congress as a research institute and think tank, with an early focus on understanding antisemitism—particularly in the context of the Holocaust. After the war, its attention shifted toward Soviet Jewry. That shift was one of the reasons the Institute relocated to London in the early 1960s. Although this was before my time, it’s notable that the Institute was among the first organizations to go behind the Iron Curtain to investigate the conditions facing Jews in the Soviet Union.
For many years, it published an academic journal dedicated to Soviet Jewry and produced a range of research papers on the subject. It also remained deeply engaged in studying antisemitism, maintaining a separate journal on the topic and conducting work internationally. Following the fall of the Berlin Wall and the collapse of communism, the Institute’s focus gradually shifted again—this time toward contemporary Jewish life in Europe and the evolving challenges facing Jewish communities across the continent.
When I became director in 2010., I took the decision to maintain the Institute’s emphasis on social and demographic research, but also to reorient it slightly—to make it an institution that could more directly serve and support Jewish community life. Today, we continue to focus on sociological and demographic research across Europe, with the specific goal of generating data that can inform community planning and development. There’s been an ongoing conversation about how to balance our UK base with our broader European mission. Over time, that balance has gradually shifted—moving away from a UK-centric focus toward a more European-wide perspective. I expect that shift to continue in the coming years. The Institute is now a Europe-based research organization dedicated to understanding and supporting Jewish communal life across the continent.
Demographics as a compass
EP: “What are the key questions your research is aiming to answer?”
JB: Our research addresses anything that concerns Jews, Jewish communities, or Jewish organizations. At the most fundamental level, that begins with demography—understanding basic demographic trends is essential, as it underpins and shapes everything else. When you understand the demographic structure of a community, you gain insight into its likely future trajectory, its current concerns and anxieties, and its evolving needs—whether in areas like education, elder care, or social services. Demographic data also form the foundation for conducting reliable social surveys. A strong grasp of a community’s demographic makeup allows us to assess the quality and representativeness of survey samples, which in turn strengthens the validity of our findings.
Beyond demographics, we work on a broad range of issues. At present, a significant portion of our research focuses on antisemitism and attitudes toward Israel. But we also cover topics such as Jewish education, social care, physical and mental health—we did extensive work in these areas during the COVID-19 pandemic. Additionally, we explore Israel–diaspora relations, Jewish peoplehood, and community development.Ultimately, the direction of our research is shaped by the concerns and priorities expressed within Jewish communities themselves.
EP: How do you define the Jewish population for your research, and how do you build your study panels?
JB: We define our survey population as anyone who self-identifies as Jewish. That’s the core criterion. Typically, our surveys focus on adults—usually individuals aged 16 or 18 and over and living within a particular geographic area, primarily across different European countries.
Of course, defining who is Jewish can be complex, and questions of inclusion and exclusion naturally arise. We deliberately use self-identification as our standard: if someone considers themselves Jewish, they are eligible to participate. However, within the surveys, we ask additional questions to better understand the nature of each respondent’s Jewish identity. This includes their denominational affiliation, whether they were born Jewish or converted, if they have Jewish parents, whether they’re married to someone Jewish, or if they identify through heritage alone. This deeper profiling allows us to build a more nuanced picture of who is actually represented in our data, beyond the initial self-identification.
EP: “How would you assess the current state of both quantitative and qualitative understanding of Jewish life in Europe today?”
JB: Within our team, I would say we have a strong understanding of Jewish communities in Europe. However, more broadly, the overall knowledge is quite limited, particularly when it comes to high-quality demographic data.
The availability and quality of data vary significantly between countries, largely due to differences in government data collection systems. For example, the UK collects information on religion in ways that France does not, which affects the quality of demographic insights. Some communities, such as those in Germany and Austria, are highly centralized and maintain robust data collection systems, resulting in a better understanding of their populations. In contrast, countries like France, Belgium, and Spain have much weaker systems for capturing this information. This variation extends beyond data availability to how communities utilize data for planning and decision-making. Some are proactive in applying data-driven insights, while others are less so, creating a mixed landscape.
Many Jewish communities across Europe have distinct histories, languages, cultures, and backgrounds, so there is no single “European Jewish norm.”
In the current climate—particularly after recent events such as those of October 7th—there is heightened anxiety and strong emotions within Jewish communities. This environment creates a paradox: people are both eager to engage with data to understand what is happening, yet sometimes dismiss data that contradicts their preexisting beliefs or feelings.
EP: Could you provide an example to illustrate that?
JB: A clear example is data on people’s perceptions and experiences of antisemitism, which vary significantly between countries. Generally, levels of anxiety about antisemitism tend to be much higher than the actual risk would suggest. This disparity is not unique—it’s similar to how people often fear flying despite the low statistical risk of a plane crash. This example highlights the gap between perception and reality in assessing risks.
EP: Who are the Jews of Europe? What are the characteristics of their composition? Is there a notable difference between Jewish communities in Eastern and Western Europe?”
JB: When we refer to the Jews of Europe today, the total population is approximately 1.3 million across the continent.Characterizing European Jewry as a whole is quite complex due to the diversity of its communities. Many Jewish communities across Europe have distinct histories, languages, cultures, and backgrounds, so there is no single “European Jewish norm.”
For example, most Jewish communities in Europe were deeply and directly impacted by the Holocaust. However, the British Jewish community, by and large, was not, aside from German refugees and survivors who settled in the UK. Similarly, many French Jews come from North Africa, which shapes a different communal experience. In Germany, many Jews are descendants of Russian Jews who migrated there, and over time, there has been an influx of Israelis moving to various parts of Europe. Additionally, in certain locations—such as the UK, Austria and Antwerp—there are rapidly growing Haredi communities, which further diversify the Jewish landscape.
Religiosity also varies significantly. Post-communist Eastern European Jewish communities, for example, endured both the Holocaust and decades of communist regimes that often suppressed Jewish identity, which continues to influence their contemporary expressions of Jewishness. In sum, the Jewish population in Europe is far from homogeneous; it is shaped by a wide range of historical experiences and cultural backgrounds.
From Durban to October 7: Antisemitism takes center stage
EP: Having served as director for 15 years, what significant changes and emerging trends have you observed within European Jewry during your tenure?
JB: Over the past 15 years, the most significant issue has been antisemitism. In the 1990s, antisemitism existed but was not a major concern. However, in the early 21st century, it began to intensify. Key events, such as the United Nations Durban Conference and the Second Intifada, influenced global perceptions of Israel, which in turn fueled antisemitism. In France, the Ilan Halimi case marked the rise of particularly alarming Islamist antisemitism. Additionally, following Hamas’s takeover of Gaza and subsequent conflicts, there has been a clear correlation between escalations in Gaza and spikes in antisemitism worldwide—Europe has been especially affected.
Perhaps most importantly, the role antisemitism plays in European Jewish life and identity has shifted dramatically. It now occupies a far more central and pressing place than in previous decades.
EP: In your study European Jews: What, Why, and Who, you emphasize that the memory of the Shoah and the fight against antisemitism are more central to European Jewish identity than support for Israel or religious practice. Why do you think this is the case?
JB: I think this dynamic is both natural and troubling. On one hand, it’s completely natural for any community or individual to turn inward when feeling threatened from the outside. Among Jews, especially following recent events like those of October 7th, there is a heightened sense of external threat. This leads to a stronger desire for internal solidarity and a reduced sense of security within broader society. That reaction is a normal human response to discomfort or hostility.
There is definitely a heightened level of anxiety and concern, a feeling of being surrounded by a degree of criticism or hostility from parts of wider society that can feel unnerving or even threatening.
On the other hand, it is troubling if Jewish identity becomes primarily defined by fear of the outside rather than by the internal elements of Jewish life—such as religious practices, beliefs, values, teachings, and culture. In that case, Jewish identity risks feeling hollow.
Of course, there is significant variation within the Jewish population. More religious and Orthodox Jews generally have a stronger, more intrinsic sense of Jewish identity. But for many, the fear of the external world is not only a natural reaction—it can come to dominate their sense of Jewishness, becoming almost the primary reason for their identification as Jewish.
EP: After October 7th, if I’m not mistaken, you began using the concept of “ambient antisemitism.” In France, this is sometimes translated and debated as “antisemitisme d’atmosphère” Similar to terms like “ambient jihadism,” these concepts could seem somewhat vague.. Why did you choose to adopt this more abstract concept after conducting rigorous research? And how do you go about measuring something as intangible as “ambient antisemitism”?
JB: One critique I have of how antisemitism is currently understood is that the primary data often cited are antisemitic incident reports—from organizations like SPCJ in France or CST in Britain. Over the past 10 to 15 years, more countries have developed community or police bodies that collect such data. Whilst they are valuable in numerous ways, there are significant limitations to these incident-based statistics.
First, incidents must be reported in the first place, and people need to know where to report them. Most crimes, including antisemitic incidents, go unreported. Even when they are reported, they are not necessarily reported to an agency specialising in antisemitism – they might instead be shared with HR at work, or a teacher at school – so won’t necessarily be included in official statistics. Second, there is subjectivity in deciding what counts as an antisemitic incident. Different organizations and individuals apply varying criteria, which affects the consistency of the data. Additionally, organizations run campaigns to encourage reporting, and awareness of reporting procedures varies between communities. As a result, incident data provide a somewhat weak and inconsistent picture of the true extent of antisemitism.
In surveys of Jewish populations, when asked if they have experienced antisemitic incidents, typically 20–25% say yes, and after October 7th, that figure rose to around 30% in the UK. However, the officially recorded incidents usually represent only 1–2% of the population, showing a huge gap between lived experience and reported data. All this suggests that we lack an accurate measurement or full understanding of antisemitism’s true scale.
EP: This issue clearly points to structural challenges in estimating antisemitism. But what about ambient antisemitism? Do you measure it, and if so, how?
JB: After October 7th, a significant critique of antisemitism became clear to us at JPR: it’s not just about incidents. Many people expressed—and we felt this ourselves—that you don’t need to be physically attacked, harassed, or discriminated against to sense something is wrong. There’s an atmosphere, a feeling in the air.
Examples include seeing posters of Israeli hostages torn down or media reports about Israel that feel off, as if there’s an underlying sinister tone. Large demonstrations, even when focused on legitimate humanitarian concerns for Palestinians, can carry elements that feel antisemitic or problematic. Post-October 7th, there was a widespread sense of a hostile, uncomfortable, and insecure atmosphere affecting Jews profoundly.
Measuring this is difficult because it’s a perception, not a concrete event like an incident. The best way to assess it is through surveys asking people about their experiences, feelings, and how often they sense this atmosphere. For instance, in a UK survey last summer, we asked participants to compare the nine months before and after October 7th, regarding how often they felt this uncomfortable sense in the air. While not a perfectly robust method, it showed a significant increase in that perception after October 7th.
Among Jews, especially following recent events like those of October 7th, there is a heightened sense of external threat. This leads to a stronger desire for internal solidarity and a reduced sense of security within broader society.
Ambient antisemitism tells us something important about society as a whole—how certain ideas or motifs about Jews or Israel are becoming widespread and unsettling. It also reveals much about how Jewish people themselves perceive their situation and circumstances.
There is definitely a heightened level of anxiety and concern, a feeling of being surrounded by a degree of criticism or hostility from parts of wider society that can feel unnerving or even threatening. In this context, Jews are tending to gravitate more towards Jewish friends and community, and withdraw somewhat from non-Jewish friends and wider society. We observe all of these trends. However, importantly, at least in the UK, there isn’t a strong sense among people that they cannot continue to live their Jewish lives.
EP: That’s exactly my point. With ambient antisemitism, Jewish people may be concerned not only about their personal security or being targets of antisemitic acts, but also about the broader “quality of the air” — the atmosphere shaped by politics, academia, and other public spaces, which can feel suffocating, like a pervasive antisemitic odor. Do you think this is the reality for some Jewish communities in Europe today? Are there communities that feel they can no longer live, or expect to live, safely in their countries? And are some communities more affected by this “suffocation” than others?
JB: The situation varies significantly from country to country. For instance, the French Jewish community has experienced several episodes of deadly Islamist antisemitism, particularly during the 2014–2015 period, which led to a notable increase in anxiety and emigration. In contrast, the UK has not witnessed such targeted lethal attacks against Jews. Although there have been instances of Islamist terrorism in the UK, these have not been directed at the Jewish community specifically. Despite public discussions about leaving, migration data do not show any significant movement among British Jews.
Overall, the strong measurable responses of Jewish communities largely depends on the severity of antisemitism they face. When antisemitism escalates to violent attacks resulting in deaths, it tends to provoke actual departures from affected areas. Conversely, when antisemitism is less severe, it generates more discourse and concern, but little tangible migration. For example, in countries like Britain, Germany, and various Eastern European nations, levels of migrationare relatively stable and moderate, whereas France has exhibited more volatile patterns, particularly during the mid-2010s during the series of murderous attacks on Jewish targets, such as those in Toulouse and Paris..
Israel, shaken refuge, enduring bond
EP: Has October 7 affected the perception among European Jews that Israel is always a safe haven or shelter? Have you measured a shift in perception?
JB: No, I don’t have sufficient empirical data on this. However, my impression is that people’s reactions tend to focus more on local circumstances rather than events abroad. There is a widespread feeling across countries like France, Britain, and Germany that these nations are becoming less secure places for Jews to live. Nonetheless, this sentiment has not yet reached a level that is dramatically affecting behavior.
There was an initial profound shock following October 7, which deeply unsettled the Jewish community globally. The long-held belief that Israel serves as a safe haven for Jews was strongly challenged by the attacks and Israel’s apparent vulnerability. While I cannot confirm this empirically, I sense that the erosion of this “safety blanket” or safe haven has significantly impacted many Jews’ sense of existential security—perhaps in ways they were not fully aware of before.
The long-held belief that Israel serves as a safe haven for Jews was strongly challenged by the attacks and Israel’s apparent vulnerability.
I have often noted that Europe is frequently defined—particularly in Israel and the United States—as Auschwitz: the site of the Holocaust. Israel was perceived as the response and solution to that tragedy. However, what occurred on October 7 symbolically brought the reality of Auschwitz to Israel itself. This shattered the notion that these are separate realities and was profoundly impactful for many on a psychological level.
EP: Another notable difference is that when murderous acts against Jews occur in Europe, there tends to be strong and unanimous condemnation from political parties. In contrast, following the attacks of October 7, the level of condemnation was not as widespread or unequivocal. Instead, there was more tendency to provide context or explanations. Additionally, while such acts have increased in the western world, there is also a tendency among some to distinguish between Jews and Zionists. To what extent do Jewish communities in Europe identify as Zionists, and how connected do they feel to Israel?
JB: Again, this varies from country to country. There is a significant difference between Western and Eastern European Jewish communities in terms of their connection to Israel and how Israel influences local or national politics. Generally, most European Jews identify as Zionists. The proportion varies somewhat by country, but based on what I know, it is roughly between two-thirds and three-quarters across Europe. Those who identify as anti-Zionists form a relatively small, though sometimes vocal, minority, and there is some evidence to suggest that they are growing in the post-October 7 context, particularly among the young.
Dans le même temps, il est important de rappeler qu’environ 45 % de tous les Juifs dans le monde vivent en Israël, de sorte que la plupart des Juifs hors d’Israël connaissent personnellement des Juifs israéliens. Par conséquent, les liens que les Juifs européens entretiennent avec les Israéliens ne sont pas uniquement fondés sur la politique ou la guerre ; ils sont généralement beaucoup plus profonds et personnels que cela. Israël n’est pas considéré comme un pays étranger, mais plutôt comme faisant partie de la communauté juive au sens large.
EP: And regarding family ties as well ?
JB: We don’t have comprehensive data for all of Europe, but in Britain, more than 70% of British Jews have a close family member or close friend living in Israel. This highlights a very real, personal connection between people. The Jewish world is generally highly interconnected, with very short degrees of separation between individuals globally. Even before we met, we likely had mutual acquaintances.
Engagement with Israel but also with cultural and religious traditions like Yom Kippur, Hanukkah, and Shabbat create common language and shared identity.. These cultural and religious connections strengthen the bond with Israel. Additionally, Zionism carries a psychological dimension — it represents safety and, even if Israel is not considered “home,” it is perceived in some way as a home or refuge. I believe that for most Jews—certainly Zionist Jews—Israel is understood in that way.
EP: This psychological dimension of Zionism would only affect its supporters ?
JB: There is also a segment of the Jewish community deeply disturbed by what they see happening in Israel and strongly opposed to it; for many of them, their connection with Israel, and to some extent with other Jews, has been damaged by the war in Gaza.. However, interestingly, if faced with a situation where leaving their current country was the only option, it is more than possible that at least some of those who are anti-Zionist might still ultimately choose to go to Israel.
A European Jewish mosaic in the process of reconstruction
EP: At the outset of K., there was a concern that European Jewry might gradually and quietly disappear—at least culturally—or lose its strong connection to both Jewish and European identities. Do you think this is a possibility? Is it a slow ongoing trend, or is there something resilient and enduring about being both Jewish and European? Also, it seems there is a concentration of Jewish populations in fewer cities and countries—for example, fewer Italian Jews living in Italy compared to those in the suburbs of Paris. Would you agree with that observation?
JB: The demographic trends for European Jewry are quite clear. In 1939, there were approximately 11 million Jews in Europe, and by 1945, around 3.8 million. The Shoah caused a catastrophic decline. Since then, the population has continued to decrease, currently standing at about 1.3 million. This decline is due not only to the ongoing effects of the Holocaust but also to factors such as aliyah, emigration, assimilation, aging, and natural demographic decline with more deaths than births. Looking at a longer historical perspective, 150 years ago, roughly 90% of the world’s Jewish population lived in Europe. Today, that figure is less than 10%, effectively a complete reversal.
Overall, these factors indicate that European Jewry is evolving. It is likely to become more religious and more Israeli-influenced over time.
However, the picture is more complex than a simple decline. For example, Haredi communities in Europe are growing, particularly in the UK, where they now constitute about a quarter of the Jewish population, numbering around 80,000. There, their growth has actually reversed decades of Jewish population decline in the country – Haredi Jews are now a large enough group to more than offset the slow decline of the mainstream Jewish population. Similar smaller Haredi communities are growing in cities like Antwerp and Vienna. In addition, Israeli populations have moved into some European communities, altering their demographics. For instance, in the Netherlands, despite secularizing trends and a low birth-to-death ratio suggesting population decline, the Jewish community is stable or growing, largely due to Israeli immigrants. Because some European Jewish communities are relatively small, the arrival of even a few Israelis can significantly change the community dynamic.
The influx of Israelis into Europe currently is not significant enough to cause a decline in the Jewish population in Israel, which continues to grow.. Overall, these factors indicate that European Jewry is evolving. It is likely to become more religious and more Israeli-influenced over time. These trends are more apparent in countries like the UK but less so in France, where the community’s size and dynamics differ. In Britain, many Jews may not fully recognize the growth of the Haredi population because these communities often live separately.
EP: Finally, regarding Israelis in Europe, you have conducted a report on their arrival and the rejuvenation of Jewish communities. Could you explain what is happening in terms of their numbers, who these Israeli migrants are, and how they are integrating? Are they forming distinct Israeli-Jewish communities within the cities, or are they fully integrating into the existing local Jewish communities?
JB: Just before that, I think the other side of the coin concerning the situation of Jews in Europe is the broader context of what is happening to Europe itself. For Jews to have a meaningful sense of their European identity, the concept of “Europeanness” must hold significance. However, I believe that the notion of Europeanness is quite elusive and difficult to define clearly. While institutions like the European Union and the European Commission may have a strong understanding of what it entails, I am not sure this sense truly permeates European societies at large.
EP: We would certainty need more “ambient europeanism”!
JB: However, it is not clear to me that there exists a particularly strong or clearly defined European identity. Moreover, I believe that national identity itself is weaker than it was one or two generations ago, although perhaps that is now beginning to change with the resurgence of nationalism we are seeing in many countries. But for any minority to feel part of a larger whole, that larger identity must be expressed in a meaningful way. Thus, not only is the European Jewish population declining or evolving, but the concepts of European-ness and national identity are also shifting. These dynamics are uncertain and fluid. Predicting the future of how European Jews see themselves and their place in society is therefore very challenging. This brings us back to demography, which remains the most reliable predictor we have for what lies ahead. Current demographic trends indicate that established Jewish communities in Europe are generally in decline, while some smaller populations are growing and becoming more dominant.
Regarding Israelis moving to Europe, the picture is often simplified as secular Tel Avivians relocating, but the reality is more complex and varies by country. For instance, in France, Israeli migration is relatively limited and not strongly felt within the broader Jewish community. In contrast, in the UK, where the numbers are larger, Israelis tend to form somewhat separate communities, at least initially. But over time, real issues arise concerning schooling, bar and bat mitzvahs, and other cultural practices. Many Israeli parents then send their children to Jewish schools, which leads to gradual individual integration.
Israeli migrants typically, and naturally, gravitate toward each other due to shared language, history, and culture. Some integrate fully into the local Jewish community; others assimilate into broader society, return to Israel, or move elsewhere. There is no single, uniform pattern. In some countries, the Israeli-born population makes up a significant proportion of the Jewish community, and in such cases, they may effectively become the dominant or even replacement community. For example, in Finland, over half the Jewish population is Israeli-born, which could reshape the community’s character significantly. These outcomes depend heavily on proportions, migration reasons, and individual circumstances.
Overall, the situation remains varied and evolving across Europe. Thirty years ago, discussions about European Jewry focused almost exclusively on decline, with no anticipation of the growth seen in Haredi or Israeli populations. We are still early in this evolving story. Today, living in the post-October 7th era amid global challenges such as the climate crisis and technological shifts like artificial intelligence, it is difficult to predict how Jews, Israelis, and Haredim will respond. Nonetheless, there are interesting developments worth observing and monitoring closely.
Interview conducted by Elie Petit
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