Why Is It Always the Jews?
I watched Morocco lose to France in the World Cup quarterfinal with the same mixture of pride and disappointment that millions of Moroccans around the world felt. We wanted to keep dreaming. We wanted our team to keep making history. Losing hurt.
What I did not expect was what happened after the final whistle.
Within hours, videos began circulating from cities across Europe. Instead of grieving a football defeat, crowds were chanting, "Hamas," calling for the murder of Jews, and reviving slogans that belonged in humanity's darkest chapters, not in the streets of democratic societies.
As a Moroccan Muslim, I felt something deeper than disappointment.
Not because Morocco lost a football match. Every team loses eventually. I felt shame because a small but visible minority turned a sporting event into another excuse to express hatred toward people who had absolutely nothing to do with the game.
Yet somehow, once again, the anger found its way to the same destination it has found for centuries.
That should disturb every decent human being.
Let me be clear from the beginning. The overwhelming majority of Moroccan supporters simply mourned the defeat, congratulated France, and went home. They represented the values of sportsmanship and dignity that I recognize in my own country.
But the fact that only a minority engaged in antisemitic chants does not make the phenomenon less alarming. It makes it more revealing.
Because this was never about football.
Football was simply the latest excuse.
The more I thought about those images, the more one question refused to leave my mind.
Why is it always the Jews?
History offers the same pattern again and again.
When economies collapse, someone blames the Jews.
When pandemics spread, someone blames the Jews.
When political leaders fail, someone blames the Jews.
When wars begin, someone blames the Jews.
When conspiracy theories flourish, Jews somehow become the hidden hand behind every event.
Now, apparently, even the outcome of a football match becomes another opportunity to direct hatred toward the world's smallest religious minority.
As someone who has spent years building bridges between Muslims and Jews, I have learned that antisemitism rarely begins with facts. It begins with convenience.
Blaming Jews is easier than confronting corruption.
Easier than questioning failed leadership.
Easier than examining extremism within our own societies.
A scapegoat is always simpler than self-reflection.
That is why antisemitism has survived for centuries despite constantly contradicting itself.
Jews have been accused of being powerless outsiders and all-powerful insiders.
They have been blamed for capitalism and for communism.
For globalization and for nationalism.
The accusations change with every generation, but the target remains remarkably consistent.
As a Moroccan, this troubles me for another reason.
Our country has a unique history. For centuries, Muslims and Jews built Morocco together. Jewish communities were not strangers in our homeland; they were part of its very foundation. They contributed to our commerce, our music, our diplomacy, our crafts, and our culture. Morocco's identity cannot honestly be told without them.
That is precisely why I refuse to remain silent when Jews become the convenient target for frustrations that have nothing to do with them.
Silence is never neutral.
History has taught us where silence leads.
The Holocaust did not begin with extermination camps. It began with words that many people dismissed as harmless. It began with lies repeated so often that they started sounding reasonable. It began when ordinary people convinced themselves that blaming Jews required no evidence at all.
Every generation believes it is different.
Every generation imagines its hatred is justified by new circumstances.
But hatred does not become noble simply because it finds a new excuse.
As a Moroccan Muslim, I believe my faith calls me to stand against injustice regardless of who the victim is. My patriotism calls me to defend the best traditions of Morocco, a country whose history demonstrates that Muslims and Jews can share not only neighborhoods but also a common national identity.
That is why the scenes that followed Morocco's defeat mattered.
Not because they revealed something about Jews.
They revealed something about us.
The question the world should be asking is not what Jews supposedly did to deserve another wave of hatred.
The question is why humanity keeps searching for reasons to blame the same people generation after generation.
Until we answer that honestly, the excuse will keep changing.