Rabbi Richard Jacobi - 8th August 2011

This morning, I walked my daughter to her voluntary job at our local Cancer Research charity shop. I don’t normally feel the need to do this, but this is the morning after the riotous night before. Last night, streets we walk down, shops we buy from, restaurants we eat at were featured on national news.

The charity shop was untouched. Three doors down, the local jeweller, who has been there as long as I can remember, had had his shutters raised, windows smashed, and interior obviously raided. Many other shops and offices had smashed windows. Sections of the town centre were cordoned off, with police officers stationed outside vulnerable buildings. None of this was caused by people exercising their right to protest for or against anything.

On Saturday evening, we had gone as a family to our neighbours’ house-warming. Everyone was saying what a nice street we lived in, and what a quiet area this is. Twenty-four hours later, we were feeling that we had mis-led these new residents. Yet, the truth is that we hadn’t – this is a nice area, with a fair amount of neighbourly concern shown.

During Sunday early evening, rumours of what had already happened were abounding. I felt two instincts – those of flight and fight. The first urged me to ensure my family was at home and stayed here. This was obviously shared by pretty much everyone else – the evening was much quieter than normal, except for the sirens going regularly, the almost constant noise of helicopters overhead, and, just occasionally, audible shouting.

My other instinct, which I now feel guilty for having suppressed, was that there was a short window of opportunity while it was still light. If we could stir 300+ citizens of Enfield quickly enough, we could have re-claimed our town centre. The more of us who were there, the less possible it would have been for those who sought confrontation, violence, damage and theft to do what they went ahead and did. In the end, I did nothing, and stayed at home with my family.

Today, my wife and a couple of friends are due to go into Enfield Town. I will encourage them to go and, if necessary, escort them. At least we can ensure that those who provide goods and services to the good people of Enfield will feel just a tiny bit less exposed.

The police fear that the violence will surface again tonight; my guess is that their concern is also about where it will appear. In the meantime, we must not do nothing! We can show our support for the shop-keepers by going and telling them, even if we don’t need to buy anything. Perhaps we can muster the hundreds of people to make it clear that violence is not an acceptable approach to us.

What keeps coming back to my mind is the saying, mostly commonly attributed to 18^th century politician Edmund Burke “All it takes for evil to flourish is that good people do nothing.” No doubt Burke was influenced by the Biblical teaching – in Leviticus 19:16 – that we must not stand by while our neighbour’s blood is shed. Two verses later, we’re also told not to take vengeance or bear a grudge, but ‘love your neighbour as yourself.” Let’s show this in practical, kind and constructive ways this week.