In December 2025, for the first time since 1991, Moscow’s Revolution Square – steps from the Kremlin walls – remained dark during Hanukkah. No giant hanukkiah rose in the central plaza, no public ceremony marked the Festival of Lights. The office of Chief Rabbi Berel Lazar cited security concerns for canceling the traditional lighting, a ritual that had endured for over three decades as a symbol of Jewish revival in post-Soviet Russia.
This absence, amid heightened global tensions, underscores a subtle but profound shift in the Kremlin’s approach to its Jewish citizens. What was once a carefully cultivated image of tolerance now appears expendable, raising urgent questions about the future of Jewish life in Russia.
Russia’s policy toward Jews has long been intertwined with broader geopolitical strategy. Under Russian President Vladimir Putin, support for the Jewish community served as a diplomatic tool, particularly in relations with the West. Chief Rabbi Berel Lazar, a Chabad-Lubavitch emissary who became Russia’s de facto spiritual leader for Jews, embodied this strategy.
Close ties between Lazar and Putin projected an image of a Russia that had overcome its Soviet-era antisemitism, combating prejudice while embracing religious freedom. Public Hanukkah celebrations near the Kremlin, often attended or endorsed by high officials, were broadcast widely, signaling to the United States and Europe that Moscow valued minority rights despite criticisms of its democracy.
This “window display” for the West was pragmatic. Putin hosted Lazar at the Kremlin, awarded him state honors – including the Order of Honor in November 2025 – and positioned Russia as a protector of Jews. The Federation of Jewish Communities of Russia (FJCR), led by Lazar and President Alexander Boroda, flourished with state backing, building synagogues, schools, and museums.
This tolerance contrasted sharply with historical precedents: the Tsarist Pale of Settlement, pogroms, and Soviet campaigns against “rootless cosmopolitans.” For years, it reassured Western audiences that Russia, though authoritarian, was not regressing to state-sponsored antisemitism.
Antisemitism's return in Russia
THE 2022 invasion of Ukraine upended this calculus. The Kremlin’s declaration of war on the “collective West” diminished the need to court favorable opinions from Washington or Brussels. Support for Jewish institutions, once a counter to accusations of illiberalism, became less vital.
Yet, the Jewish community retained utility in bolstering Moscow’s propaganda. Russia’s justification for the war – ”denazification” – invoked World War II narratives, portraying Ukraine’s government as neo-Nazi despite its Jewish president, Volodymyr Zelensky.
Russian Jewish leaders, including Lazar, navigated this delicately, avoiding direct criticism of the war while emphasizing patriotism and spiritual unity. Some community efforts aligned with the official line that the conflict continued the Soviet fight against fascism, lending indirect credence to the Kremlin’s framing.
As the war dragged on, Russia’s foreign policy pivoted further. Moscow deepened ties with actors on the global far Right, groups often indifferent or hostile to Jewish interests. In Europe, the Kremlin has cultivated alliances with populist parties – such as France’s National Rally, Italy’s Lega, or Hungary’s Fidesz – whose histories include antisemitic elements or rhetoric downplaying Holocaust memory.
These parties advocate sovereignty against “globalist” influences, a trope that sometimes veers into coded antisemitism. By supporting such forces to sow discord in the EU, Russia prioritizes destabilization over maintaining its anti-antisemitism credentials.
This realignment extends to the United States. Prominent voices sympathetic to Moscow, like media personality Tucker Carlson, have amplified Kremlin narratives on Ukraine while platforming figures with explicit antisemitic views. Carlson’s 2025 interview with Nick Fuentes – a white nationalist known for Holocaust denial and admiration of Hitler – drew condemnation but highlighted a growing tolerance for such rhetoric in isolationist circles.
Fuentes and similar influencers decry “Jewish oligarchy” and US aid to Israel, echoing tropes that align with Russia’s efforts to fracture Western unity. When allies espouse or tolerate overt antisemitism, public displays of philo-Semitism in Russia lose their strategic value. Why spotlight a thriving Jewish community when your partners in the West dismiss or embrace prejudice?
The 2025 Hanukkah cancellation exemplifies this deprioritization. Officially attributed to security – perhaps linked to global tensions or domestic threats – the decision breaks a tradition that symbolized state endorsement.
Revolution Square’s hanukkiah, lit annually since the early 1990s, had become a miracle for survivors of Soviet repression: Jewish life openly celebrated at the heart of power. Its absence, even if temporary, signals that such symbolism is no longer essential.
Recent state actions, like past pressures on the Jewish Agency for emigration to Israel or rhetorical flourishes questioning Holocaust uniqueness, suggest a creeping normalization of ambivalence.
WHERE IS this trajectory headed? Russia has not returned to overt Tsarist pogroms or Stalinist purges. Antisemitic incidents remain low compared to historical peaks, thanks partly to security around Jewish sites and official condemnations of extremism. Putin continues personal engagements with Lazar, as seen in 2025 meetings that emphasize interfaith harmony.
Yet, the erosion of public support – coupled with alliances tolerating antisemitism – creates a chilling environment. Propaganda minimizing Jewish Holocaust suffering, combined with isolationism, risks emboldening grassroots prejudice. In a nation where conspiracy theories flourish, Jews could once again become scapegoats for economic woes or foreign policy failures.
This shift demands vigilance. Russia’s Jews, estimated at 150,000-200,000 active community members within a larger Diaspora heritage, have rebuilt their community vibrantly since 1991. Synagogues thrive, education flourishes, and cultural revival persists. But sustainability hinges on state goodwill, now waning. Emigration, already rising post-2022, accelerates as families seek stability elsewhere – Israel, the US, Europe.
I have long urged Russia’s Jews to consider aliyah, the return to Israel. The post-Soviet renaissance was extraordinary, but illusions of permanence ignore history. Tsarist expulsions, Soviet repression, and now this pivot remind us: tolerance in authoritarian states is often tactical. When foreign policy no longer requires showcasing Jewish vitality, protections fray. The darkened square in 2025 is a warning light, not yet red, but amber.
Now, more than ever, Russia’s Jews should heed the call to leave. Israel offers not just refuge but a homeland where Jewish life is sovereign, not contingent on geopolitical whims. The miracle of public hannukiot in Moscow was inspiring, but miracles are fleeting in exile. As Hanukkah teaches, light triumphs over darkness – but sometimes, the wisest act is to carry the flame to a place where it burns freely.
The writer is the president of the Conference of European Rabbis.