Are French courts failing to recognise antisemitism? The Jerusalem Post opinion

France has made the fight against antisemitism a national priority, with the issue repeatedly highlighted in political speeches, commemorations and official statements. But recent court cases have prompted questions over how French authorities identify antisemitic motives when prosecuting violence against Jewish people, according to a Jerusalem Post opinion piece by Shannon Seban, executive director of European affairs for the Combat Antisemitism Movement.

Writing in the Jerusalem Post, Seban focuses on several recent cases that, in her view, expose a recurring difficulty in recognising contemporary forms of antisemitism.

On September 14, a woman in Strasbourg was convicted over the assault of three Jewish students on a university campus. The victims said they were called “fascist Zionists” and “dirty Zionists” during the attack. The court recognised the assault but did not establish an antisemitic motive, accepting prosecutors’ argument that the violence stemmed from a political dispute rather than hostility toward the victims because they were Jewish.

Seban notes that Strasbourg is not an isolated case.

In Épinay-sur-Seine, an olive tree planted in memory of Ilan Halimi, a young French Jew who was kidnapped, tortured and murdered in 2006, was cut down with a chainsaw. The perpetrators were convicted, but the antisemitic aggravating circumstance was not established. The Paris appeals court upheld that conclusion in March 2026, finding that the evidence did not establish that the perpetrators knew the significance of the memorial or intended to target it because of Halimi’s Jewish identity.

In Levallois-Perret, a nanny was convicted after putting toxic household products into food and drinks belonging to the Jewish family that employed her. The appeals court also rejected the antisemitic aggravating circumstance, a decision the public prosecutor has challenged before the Court of Cassation.

The murder of Sarah Halimi, Seban acknowledges, falls into a different legal category. The antisemitic nature of the killing was recognised, but the perpetrator was declared criminally irresponsible because his mental state was deemed to have abolished his criminal responsibility at the time of the crime. The Court of Cassation upheld that decision in 2021, meaning there was no criminal trial.

Sarah Halimi

Seban stresses that the cases are legally distinct and that antisemitic intent cannot simply be presumed whenever a Jewish person is the victim of a crime.

“Not every crime against a Jewish person is antisemitic. Motive cannot be presumed. It has to be established, carefully and rigorously, through evidence,” she writes.

At the same time, she argues that such rigour should not require antisemitism to be expressed in the most explicit possible terms.

“Hatred rarely offers a confession. It reveals itself in language, in the choice of a victim, in the choice of a symbol, in the circumstances of an attack, in the meaning of what is targeted.”

Seban argues that contemporary antisemitism can adapt its language, including through references to Israel, Gaza, “resistance” and Zionism.

“Antisemitism, like every hatred that survives, adapts.”

She nevertheless draws a distinction between antisemitism and criticism of Israel.

“Criticism of Israel is not antisemitism. Opposition to an Israeli government is not antisemitism. Even anti-Zionism cannot simply be treated, in law, as an automatic synonym for antisemitism.”

But, she argues, the opposite mistake is also possible.

“The word ‘Zionist’ cannot become a convenient screen behind which antisemitism disappears from view.”

In her view, the Strasbourg case illustrates the difficulty. “When Jewish students are physically assaulted while being called ‘dirty Zionists’, the political context deserves to be examined. It should not be enough, by itself, to close the question of antisemitism.”

Seban argues that the issue extends beyond the wording of individual judgments, because legal classifications can influence crime statistics, police procedures, judicial training, public policy and how society interprets patterns of violence.

“When an antisemitic motive exists but is not recognized, the hatred itself does not vanish. Only its name does.”

She calls for closer examination of how discriminatory motives are identified throughout France’s criminal justice system, including whether police officers, prosecutors and judges receive sufficient training to recognize contemporary forms of antisemitism and whether possible hate motives are documented early enough in investigations.

“These questions do not weaken judicial independence. They belong to the legitimate scrutiny of a justice system that must be capable not only of punishing an act, but of understanding its nature.”

Seban also argues that France’s strong emphasis on remembrance must be matched by vigilance over contemporary manifestations of antisemitism.

“France knows how to remember.”

“Memory, however, cannot become a refuge from the present.”

She concludes by stressing that the cases should not be treated as identical, while arguing that their accumulation raises broader questions about how French institutions identify antisemitic hatred.

“Strasbourg, Épinay-sur-Seine, Levallois-Perret and, in a different legal context, Sarah Halimi are not one and the same story.”

“Their accumulation nevertheless leaves an uncomfortable impression: a country can condemn violence while still hesitating to name the hatred that produced it.”

She ends with a broader challenge to French society: “It is a question of what France is prepared to see.”

By Tamilla Hasanova