Amanah was one of the most important Jewish-Muslim cooperation projects to exist in Europe before October 7. Founded eight years ago in the Swedish city of Malmö by Moshe David HaCohen, then the city's rabbi, and Salahuddin Barakat, a local imam, it aimed to build trust between the city's Jews and Muslims and to counter discrimination. This specific name for the organization was chosen because in Hebrew and Arabic, Amanah refers to the principles of faith and trust.
When it was still active, Amanah ran school programs and developed digital tools to combat racism and monitor social media, addressing many of the challenges for which Malmö had gained notoriety: Holocaust denial in schools, rising incidents of antisemitism every time violence broke out in the Middle East; and escalating Islamophobia culminating in the burning of Qurans by right-wing extremists on multiple occasions.
Amanah's activities were put on hold immediately after October 7, initially because of a statement posted on Facebook by Barakat's Islamic Academy that was deemed highly offensive to the Jewish community. "As Muslims, we stand with our oppressed brothers and sisters in their right to fight against these injustices for freedom, justice, and peace," read the post, which was written when the October massacre was still ongoing. While the post was later updated to offer condolences "to all the innocent victims of violence," the damage had been done. Although dialogue between HaCohen and several Muslim leaders continued and even helped prevent violence during the Eurovision Song Contest in Malmö last May, Amanah officially disbanded in December 2024.
HaCohen is now launching a new organization named B.R.I.T – an acronym for Building Resilience Identity and Trust, and a reference to the Hebrew word for "covenant." He says the organization will work to foster relations between Jews and Muslims in several European countries, based on the premise that security and safety "can't only be based on fear, guards and security cameras – it needs a deeper understanding and working together to overcome the problems."
Jewish-Muslim bridge-building initiatives have been tested in other Scandinavian countries as well over the past year and a half. Before October 7, Jews and Muslims in Oslo regularly held dialogue meetings under the auspices of the Council for Religious and Life Stance Communities (the umbrella organization for Norwegian religious organizations).
"After October 7, cooperation became a serious challenge to both sides," says Rabbi Joav Melchior, the leader of Oslo's Jewish community. "For members of the Jewish community, it was a challenge to deal with Muslim leaders who claimed Israel was committing genocide and spread anti-Israeli conspiracy theories," he adds. "Muslim leaders, on the other hand, saw the support of Zionism as a challenge and expected their Jewish counterparts to denounce it."
Although no major interfaith events have been held in the city over the past year-and-a-half, Melchior says Jewish and Muslim clergy continue to meet and share their thoughts in more intimate gatherings organized through the umbrella organization. "There is a will to improve relations, even though it won't be like it was before October 7," says Melchior, stressing the importance of continuing to talk.
Salaam Shalom was a Danish initiative launched a decade ago that aimed to facilitate dialogue between Middle Eastern communities based in Copenhagen. Inspired by a similar program in Berlin and partially funded by the European Union, the program, which ran for four years, was started by Tali Padan, an Israeli who grew up in the United States and now lives in the Danish capital.
After October 7, Padan wanted to arrange a get-together of some of the former activists and proposed holding a Hanukkah candle-lighting event. The response was not especially encouraging.
"In that first meeting we had only one Muslim, about 20-to-30 Israeli and Danish Jews, and some non-Jewish Danes," she recalls. "The atmosphere was heavy, but there were group activities. We talked, and we lit candles despite it all."
Padan was pleasantly surprised not long thereafter when one of her former Muslim partners, of Lebanese origin, suggested reviving the program. "I was shocked by his initiative because some of his family members were killed in an Israeli air-strike," she says. "Still, we went ahead and the first event took place this January. This time, the room was full. About 50 people, Danish Jews and Muslims, talked about activism and building bridges with a new energy."
In contrast to the past, she says, in this latest iteration of her Jewish-Muslim partnership organization, the feel-good experience is not the main point. "This time it feels like people are making a powerful choice to commit to unity and peace," says Padan. "They know it's the only way forward."
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