Seven years ago, Anat and her husband moved to Ireland after he landed a job in the country’s buzzing tech sector. 

“Ireland was my dream,” said the Israeli academic, who asked that her last name not be used.

“We wanted to move here, we felt so relaxed. We felt like everyone is so nice and we both felt our careers would be in really good places here.”

Then Oct. 7 happened. Since the outbreak of war triggered by Hamas’ brutal attack on Israel, Ireland has emerged as one of the Jewish state’s fiercest critics and relations between the two countries have frayed. 

Last month, the Irish taoiseach (prime minister) Simon Harris said his country would arrest Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu if he landed there, following the issuance of arrest warrants for both Netanyahu and former Defense Minister Yoav Gallant by the International Criminal Court. Shortly after, Micheál Martin, the country’s foreign affairs minister, announced that Ireland is backing South Africa’s genocide case against Israel at the International Court of Justice. 

Israel finally lost its patience on Sunday, announcing the closure of its embassy in Dublin. Israeli Foreign Minister Gideon Sa’ar accused Ireland of “antisemitism based on the delegitimization and dehumanization of Israel.”

The decision has unsettled Ireland’s small Jewish community, including hundreds of Israeli expats like Anat. 

She told Jewish Insider that doubts had long been cast over its future but that “it did come as a surprise because over the last year we’ve been super reliant on the embassy.” 

“They helped to navigate a lot of situations, but now we feel alone.”

Anat has been exposed to the depth of hostility on campus. She said it’s impossible to say how many Jewish students attend her university as there is no official representation and many are too nervous to self-identify.

In one horrifying episode last month, an American Jewish student was beaten up in a Dublin nightclub because he was wearing a Star of David. The case is currently under investigation.

“When the war started everything flipped,” she said. “Friends started sharing horrific stories on Instagram about what it means to be an IDF soldier and about all of us being part of a propaganda machine. It was heartbreaking to see this entire situation unfold in terms of people we knew.”

Still, the couple have many good friends in Ireland. “They know us, they know our opinions, they know we’re somewhere in the middle of it all,” she said. 

“But the rest of the Irish public don’t know Israelis personally so just hear from the government and the media which is really difficult.”

She described it as an “echo chamber” which permeates the education system. A recent review of Irish textbooks revealed “several worrisome trends” when it comes to the portrayal of Judaism, the Holocaust and Israel.

Anat and her husband have chosen to send their two young children to a private German kindergarten, rather than enroll them in the Irish state system. 

“It was a very hard decision,” she said. “But I don’t want to have the same fear as other parents here, of their kids getting bullied and having to explain to the school that it is antisemitism. 

“At least I don’t have to explain to the Germans what antisemitism is — they understand.”

She says they’re not “physically afraid” but “mentally, living with all this hatred around is a totally different thing.”

Will they stay or will they return to Israel? There’s no simple answer.

“My husband and I know what it is to run from missiles and alarms and we know how it is to be physically afraid for our lives. Our kids don’t know that and we’re not sure that we want them to have this experience,” she said. 

“It’s a tricky situation to be in where you feel like you have no place to live your life.”

Ireland’s small Jewish community dates back to the late 19th and early 20th century. It is small and aging as younger generations have migrated, but has been bolstered by the arrival of hundreds of Israelis like Anat. 

Many have laid down roots, either temporarily or permanently. Stratford College, a Jewish school funded by the Yael Foundation, has seen the impact of their arrival in Dublin, home to the European headquarters of Google, Meta, Apple, Airbnb and more. Eighty percent of its elementary pupils now hail from Israeli backgrounds.

Orli Degani is a dual German-Israeli citizen who runs a business consultancy with her Irish-Israeli husband.

She became interested in local politics during the pandemic, which prompted her to join the Social Democrats and eventually stand for them in this year’s local elections. 

“When we decided to stay in Ireland I wanted to give back and do more for the community,” she told JI. “So I joined the Social Democrats who at the time seemed to align with my values. They always knew I was Jewish, they always knew I was born in Israel, so it was never raised as an issue.”

“Officially they believe in peace, in a two state solution, which aligned with my values, so I thought there wouldn’t be any problem. But then after Oct. 7 they took a hard turn,” she said. 

The party presented “a really one-sided view” and joined anti-Israel protests, she added. 

Canvassing for election as a council officer meant knocking on doors, where people asked where she was from. She said that it was a “difficult time but still OK,” until she approached the party about “softening their rhetoric.” 

In a conversation that happened behind closed doors, Degani said that she expressed Jewish and Israeli communal concerns over safety.

But, she said, the party refused to listen and went on to deselect her. 

At the time, she described the move as an “affront to the values of equality and inclusivity I have come to know since immigrating to these shores.” She “refused to go quietly” and contested the seat as an independent. Meanwhile a vicious whisper campaign was launched against her on social media, she said, where she was labelled a “genocide supporter.” 

Although neither side won the seat, Degani is determined to keep up the fight and now works with Ireland’s Jewish community to combat antisemitism in schools, universities and wider society. 

“It’s been an uphill battle, but we’re doing it,” she said.

“It’s mostly systemic antisemitism in the government and the media. It’s not really a question of the public and it’s not really a question of safety. Mostly.”

News of the embassy’s closure has sent shockwaves through the Israeli community, she added. 

“We’re so worried. Everybody’s trying to figure out what it means — should we pack up and go? I don’t think there’s really a definitive answer.”

Relations between the two countries have long been complex. In his speech on Monday, Sa’ar alluded to Ireland’s “neutrality” during World War II. Indeed, in 1945 then-Irish leader Éamon de Valera sent his condolences to the German people over Hitler’s death. 

More recently, Ireland has refused to adopt the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance’s working definition of antisemitism, unlike most European countries. 

Gidon Ohana is an Irish-Israeli citizen living in London. The father of two, who works in recruitment, told JI that while he does not believe his homeland is antisemitic, “there’s always been a bit of a blind spot” towards Israel. 

“It’s historically a very Catholic country and it has always been very led by the Vatican, until modern times,” he said, adding that the Israeli embassy only opened in the 1990s — after relations were established with the Vatican.

He added: “There’s this chip on the Irish shoulder about victimhood. The country has always seen itself as being aligned with the oppressed. Sometimes that’s a good thing because people are very generous, but the Irish do seem to be very black and white in their views.”

Ohana, who regularly returns to visit Ireland, said the issue is an “easy win” for politicians looking for votes.

“It’s a race to the bottom as they all try to outdo each other in terms of their anti-Israel rhetoric,” he said. 

Despite the drastic deterioration in relations, Ireland’s Chief Rabbi Yoni Wieder did not expect “things to go this far.”

He told JI: “Since the start of the war, Ireland has vilified and delegitimised Israel, and has failed to recognise the realities of a war fought against Jihadist terrorist organisations intent on Israel’s destruction. Irish political leaders have not shown any willingness to work positively with Israel, and the anti-Israel stances they have adopted go beyond those of other EU countries.”

“The anti-Israel sentiment in Ireland has become extremely hateful and is full of disinformation and distortions,” Wieder added. “And it’s only getting worse.”

He said that the closure would come as a “blow” to Israelis in Ireland, “many of whom have contributed tremendously to the Jewish community here.” 

Echoing that sentiment, Maurice Cohen, chairperson of the Jewish Representative Council of Ireland, described the embassy’s closure as “regrettable” and urged both sides to heal their wounded relationship. 

“Diplomatic missions play a critical role in building understanding, providing essential services, and maintaining communication even during times of political tension,” Cohen said. “Closing the embassy risks alienating a significant segment of Irish society and sends a message that dialogue is being replaced by disengagement.”