On November 9, 2025, as the world marked the grim anniversary of Kristallnacht—the infamous 1938 pogrom that signaled the onset of the Holocaust—two incidents on opposite sides of the globe reignited fears about the persistence and spread of antisemitism. In Randers, Denmark, a small Jewish cemetery was found vandalized, with several headstones toppled and some damaged. Meanwhile, in Sydney, Australia, a neo-Nazi rally unfolded outside the state Parliament, sending shockwaves through the Jewish community and drawing condemnation from political leaders and civil society alike.
According to DR, Denmark’s national broadcaster, the damage at the Randers cemetery was discovered on November 9, though the precise timing of the act remains unclear. Notably, no graffiti or political slogans were found at the site, but the symbolism of the date was impossible to ignore. Five years earlier, two men with ties to a neo-Nazi group had been convicted of extensive vandalism at this very cemetery, raising uncomfortable questions about whether history was repeating itself.
Police Inspector Anders Uhrskov of East Jutland Police told DR, “We are at a point in the investigation where we do not rule anything out.” Uhrskov acknowledged a recent uptick in antisemitic incidents, adding, “and therefore there are of course relevant avenues to look at.” While he did not explicitly mention the Kristallnacht anniversary, the context was clear: the timing and nature of the attack could hardly be dismissed as coincidence.
The Embassy of Israel in Copenhagen was quick to express alarm, describing the incident as an act of vandalism whose timing was “especially alarming.” In a statement posted on X (formerly Twitter), the embassy emphasized, “Attacks on Jewish heritage sites should not be tolerated, and we should all work together to fight antisemitism, wherever it takes place.”
These concerns are not new. In 2012, the Council of Europe adopted a nonbinding resolution that placed responsibility for the care of Jewish cemeteries squarely on national governments. The resolution cited Jewish cemeteries as “probably” more vulnerable than others, pointing to frequent acts of vandalism, often with antisemitic motives. The report also highlighted a troubling history of Jewish cemeteries being repurposed as residential areas, parks, or even lakes, especially in Eastern Europe.
While the Randers incident was unfolding in Denmark, a far more public display of hatred was taking place in Sydney, Australia. According to multiple reports, about 60 men from the hardline National Socialist Network—clad in black and exuding a menacing presence—gathered right outside the New South Wales state Parliament. They unfurled a banner reading “Abolish the Jewish lobby,” a phrase widely recognized as a dog whistle for antisemitic conspiracy theories. The group went further, chanting the Hitler Youth slogan, “Blood and honour!”
The rally’s brazenness stunned many Australians, especially as it took place in such a prominent location. New South Wales Premier Chris Minns condemned the spectacle as “despicable,” stating, “We don’t want to tolerate – and don’t believe we should tolerate – a city where white-power hatred, naked antisemitism, and racism is on Sydney streets.” He stressed the need for a clear line between free speech and hate speech, a sentiment echoed by opposition leader Mark Speakman. Speakman described the rally as “a new low when it comes to racism and bigotry,” and called the participants “thugs dressed in black shirts reminiscent of fascism and Nazism in the 1930s.”
Police Commissioner Mal Lanyon cited “a breakdown in communication” within the police force, which resulted in the rally being granted approval. Lanyon pledged to review footage from the event to determine whether any laws had been broken. Yet for many in the Jewish community, the damage was already done. The rally took place mere months after Australia implemented new laws specifically designed to criminalize the incitement of race hatred. Jewish leaders and community members voiced outrage that these powers were not enforced, especially given the rally’s overtly antisemitic content.
“There needs to be a distinct demarcation between free speech and hate speech,” Minns insisted, reflecting a broader debate that has intensified in Australia and elsewhere. The rally also coincided with a warning from Australia’s security chief, Mike Burgess, who cautioned that “inflammatory rhetoric and provocative, disruptive actions have been normalised” across the nation—from universities and workplaces to the streets. Burgess warned of the potential threat to social cohesion, a concern that now feels all too immediate.
The timing of the Sydney rally—falling in the same week as Kristallnacht’s anniversary—added a layer of painful irony. The event recalled a moment in 1938 when Aboriginal leader William Cooper led a delegation to the German Consulate in Melbourne to protest the treatment of Jews in Nazi Germany. Cooper’s protest was remarkable not only for its moral clarity but also because it came at a time when Indigenous Australians themselves were denied basic rights in their own country. His example, as highlighted by Dr. Vic Alhadeff, former chief executive of the NSW Jewish Board of Deputies, is a reminder of the courage and solidarity needed in the face of hatred.
Both the Randers cemetery desecration and the Sydney neo-Nazi rally serve as stark reminders that antisemitism, far from being a relic of the past, continues to manifest in new and distressing ways. The incidents have reignited debates over how best to confront hate—whether through stricter law enforcement, greater public education, or more robust community engagement.
In Denmark, the investigation into the Randers vandalism remains ongoing, with police refusing to rule out any motives. The absence of graffiti or slogans may make it harder to prove intent, but the context speaks volumes. In Australia, the controversy over the neo-Nazi rally has prompted calls for a review of police protocols and renewed scrutiny of how hate speech laws are applied—or not applied—in practice.
Underlying both cases is a broader anxiety about the normalization of hateful rhetoric and actions. As security chief Burgess warned, the risk is not just to individual communities but to the fabric of society itself. When public spaces become stages for hate, and when places of memory and mourning are desecrated, the consequences extend far beyond the immediate victims.
Still, history offers reminders of resilience and solidarity. Whether in the form of William Cooper’s 1938 protest or the swift condemnations by today’s leaders, there are voices willing to stand up against hate. But as recent events show, the struggle is far from over. The vigilance—and the courage—required to confront antisemitism remains as urgent now as it was nearly a century ago.
