As a young girl growing up in Leningrad, I often heard stories from my family and their friends about the Stalinist repressions. These stories were marked by fear, loss, and a sense of betrayal. I learned early that trust could be dangerous; in times of terror, neighbours, friends, and even colleagues could turn against you. A single accusation could lead to imprisonment or worse — you might never return.
One such story was that of my great-grandmother’s brother, a quiet, apolitical cobbler. One day, he was arrested on charges of treason and spying, despite having no political connections or ambitions. She was allowed to visit him a few times, and then, as was so often the case during Stalin’s abominable reign, he disappeared. No explanation. No closure. His fate remains a chilling reminder of the randomness of terror.
What I write here is not only a personal testimony but also a mirror reflecting the past and present, showing the terrifying continuity of fear, betrayal, and rising antisemitism. The parallels between Stalinist terror, Nazi persecution, and the current atmosphere facing Jews today are inescapable. In both past and present, one cannot trust neighbours, colleagues, or even institutions that once seemed safe.
Before leaving Russia, my great-grandmother said, “I have suffered enough. I want a better life for my grandchildren.” Her story is like many other Jewish stories around the world are intertwined and connected by what it means to survive — and to hope.
When I lived in Israel in the 1990s, I met a man who became a mentor and a grandfather figure to me: Manfred Vanson, the president of the B’nai B’rith Albert Einstein Lodge. In his early eighties when we first met, he was a lover of classical music and an extraordinarily intuitive pianist. His kindness, generosity, and wisdom were boundless, his belief in me unconditional. He became instrumental in my journey to becoming an opera singer in London and around the world. Born in Germany, he shared with me the painful memory of how, when the Nazis came to power, the people who once called him a friend turned their backs on him and his family. The coldness of betrayal was palpable. Friends, colleagues — people he and his family had trusted — suddenly became strangers. Manfred spoke of how people simply disappeared, with rumours circulating that they had boarded trains…
This is no longer a distant historical lesson; it is happening again, right now. I was in New York last autumn and visited the painfully simple, noble, moving memorial to the victims of the attacks on 9/11. Naturally the civilised world rallied round the USA at that time, offering support and solidarity. But the brutal massacre by Hamas on October 7th 2023 brought about a very different public response; essentially victim-blaming, showing no empathy for the Jews, celebrating the death of Israelis, ignoring and questioning the legitimacy of those raped and mutilated. Supporters of the terrorist groups were allowed to march on the streets of London shouting antisemitic slogans and calling for the elimination of Israel. Historic antisemitic tropes that we thought gone 80 years ago, such as blood libel, have re-emerged. Jews have been attacked and murdered on streets, in synagogues, and on beaches.
Today, Jewish communities are living in mortal fear. Have you ever seen a Christian or Muslim school, church or mosque protected by armed guards day and night? I have only ever seen that outside Jewish schools and synagogues. Since October 7th, Jewish gatherings, even cultural ones such as public concerts, are often organized in secret, by invitation only.
In the world of music, where I once felt a certain measure of safety, I now see Jewish and non-Jewish friends and colleagues who speak up against antisemitism and/or against Hamas exposed to aggressive verbal attacks at workplaces and online. Friends, colleagues, and peers are now cancelling them with cold disregard — often with a smile, looking them straight in the eye. This betrayal cuts deeply.
Another man whose name I proudly associate with my journey is Henri (Hans) Moerel, the son of a Holocaust victim and a Holocaust survivor himself. Henri’s father, Salomon Moerel, was a physician who, under Nazi occupation, was forced to close his practice to “Aryan” patients. During the war, Salomon served as treasurer for the Dutch-Israelite Community of Tilburg, and through his connections, his family was temporarily spared from deportation. However, when the last Jews of Tilburg were rounded up in 1943, Salomon and his wife went into hiding, only to be betrayed and arrested in 1944. They were deported to Auschwitz, where they were murdered. Somehow Henri survived. He would never have children or a family and so left his money to a Foundation that supports music and musicians. In 2014, I was fortunate enough to benefit from “his” support in my Signum Classics album project ‘Surrender – Voices of Persephone’. It was my personal journey from darkness into light, exploring the three stages of womanhood, from innocence to maturity through operatic heroines. The support felt much more than simply financial: I felt as though I was being welcomed into Moerel’s family. Yet, extraordinarily, in 2025 I received a request from the Foundation to remove from my website any association with them, with threats of legal action.
This brings me to one of the most pernicious aspects of current antisemitism, the so-called ‘human rights activists’ who form the organization called BDS. BDS stands for Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions. Inspired by the noble struggle against South-African apartheid, it draws facile and erroneous comparisons between that regime and the current Israeli government, and uses that supposed moral authority to threaten organizations with dire consequences if they don’t cut ties with Jewish/ Israeli clients – it’s notable that many of their targets have had no actual connection to Israel.
Since October 7th I have posted on social media to draw awareness to the humanitarian situation of the hostages, speaking out against Hamas for the sake of Palestinians, supporting Israel (though not necessarily its government) in its fight against terror, and condemning antisemitism wherever I see it. I feel an unshakeable right to speak my truth, to be proud of my complex heritage, and to condemn hate — wherever it comes from. Supporting Israel’s right to exist, opposing terrorism, and calling out antisemitism and supporting peace in the middle east is not controversial; it is a matter of moral clarity. I do not represent the Israeli government, I am not a politician, and yet I believe that my voice matters; in the sea of many voices against Israel and Jews, even my voice may make a difference. I believe in fighting for the light, in building from the ruins and being unapologetically vocal, proud and courageous.
This was, it seems, sufficient reason for BDS (or perhaps another similar organisation, I have no proof) to turn their searchlight on the Moerel Foundation, make the demand I mentioned above, and for them to cave in. Never would have I imagined that an organisation that uses the money left by a Holocaust survivor could try to airbrush a Jewish musician. It is deeply painful to realize that an organization built on Moerel’s legacy — a survivor who had lived through unimaginable horrors — would now contribute to the same culture of silencing Jewish voices. It is a betrayal on so many levels – of me as an artist, of Moerel as a benefactor, and of the inescapable fact of the Holocaust itself.
I am not alone in my fear. But I also know that I am not alone in my courage. Many around the world, Jewish and non-Jewish alike, are speaking up, resisting the normalization of antisemitism, and pushing back against the dangerous currents of hate masquerading as political discourse or “social justice.” Behind me stands the Jewish community, who, while maintaining a beautiful diversity of opinion and outlook, feel very strongly about the honour and the legacy of their Holocaust survivors and proud to protect their beloved Israel.
Manfred, the kind man who helped guide my career, never lost his belief in humanity. Despite the horrors he endured, he never stopped hoping for a better world. He used to say, “If only the Jews of the Holocaust could see what a magnificent country their children and grandchildren would build.” He meant – Israel. The only democratic, multi-faith society in the middle east. The only country where Jews can escape to when persecuted elsewhere in the world. I took great pride in knowing him and in being supported by his unwavering vision for a better future.
My favourite place to walk my dogs is Hadley Woods. As I enter, I feel as if I came into a temple. The trees above me create multiple domes and I can imagine a surrealistic painting of St. Paul’s Cathedral extended and mirrored above my head. I immediately relax, my senses sharpen and my lungs open. As I walk on tiny winding paths, observing the changes that occurred since yesterday my heart expands, I feel total bliss. I listen to the sounds of the woods, I look at the sky, the trees, fallen leaves, the earth and I try to notice and take in as much as I can.
As one would do in a temple, I pray, connect to God, my meditation witnessed by nature begins.
Today, my mind connects to the word ‘fear’ . I feel so safe in these woods, unaware of any dangers, connected to this place, trusting it. This is a completely irrational feeling, because in reality a woman is walking alone in the woods…what can go wrong? Should I be anticipating to experience something to go wrong?
Recently I read a poem by Khalil Gibran about a river trembling with fear before entering the sea. She has already made such a profound way flowing down from the peaks of the mountains. In her anticipation of a negative experience she is afraid of disappearing forever…
As a performing musician occasionally I connect to the fear of disappearing, being forgotten, and more recently – being cancelled because of my support for Israel and speaking up against antisemitism. My friends were warning me. Were they anticipating a negative experience?
As a woman, I often contemplate aging and how it affects my body, my looks. I question: what if I won’t be noticed any more, will I disappear? I already know the answer to these questions – Age is not counted in numbers, it is a feeling I have inside, a feeling of full acceptance and love wherever I am in my life.
As a mother, whose son will be leaving home soon to start his own life, I often contemplate on what it will mean in terms of our connection? What if I am not needed anymore? Another unknown on the list, which I can choose to anticipate to experience negatively or to live through it trustingly and see what happens.
I am not alone in these fears. My friends – musicians, parents among them, women of the same age – we talk about it, comfort and support each other. Balancing the fears with reality, hope and trusting our individual journeys. I am fortunate and grateful to have a tight group of friends, with whom I feel safe, thanks to their unconditional love, and a mutual fierce wish for me to be happy.
I come across a dead tree and connect to how quickly our minds are drawn towards possible negative, rather than possible positive scenarios first…
I examine further the ‘anticipating negativity’. I connect to the fear of disappearing, feeling small, when experiencing ridicule, shaming, disrespect, humiliation, bullying, gaslighting, as part of mental and emotional domestic abuse. I had a fair share of these experiences and in my current life I am observing it in different types of relationships around me. Partners, parents and children, co-workers, boss and employee, landlord and a tenant, a lodger and a landlord, a teenager and a parent, neighbours. Each individual situation, in their own experience equates in its magnitude to what is happening in the world right now.
Feeling all this sadness overwhelms me, I notice I start walking faster, as if trying to run away from something, I feel anxiety rising in my body and I have stopped noticing what is around me…I pause.
I find a bench under an oak tree and take a few deep breaths, slow down my racing mind, my fast-beating heart. Rain starts to fall gently on the leaves above me, the oak is protecting me. I take another breath and as I open my mouth to breath out – my grief comes out. Tears flood down my cheeks, I am sobbing. I start to feel a sense of relief, as if with each tear the pain is coming out. I learnt over the years to listen to my body and to take care of myself, by allowing my emotions to have an outlet. My favourite way is sharing it with another person or letting it out in the presence of nature. Writing this here, in my blog, on my website is my way to show a human, vulnerable side that enhances my Opera Diva persona.
I feel better, I am more present and here in the moment. It seems like the tears have cleared my vision. I notice the beauty around me even more acutely, it moves me deeply now. I become aware of my own inner beauty; it makes me feel fearless. I realise that the only ‘disappearing’ I need to be afraid of is losing myself…losing this awareness, this inner peace, this incredible connection to nature, to life, to people, to love, to gratitude, to this world, of which I am an important part of, to God in my heart.
I feel taller, my lungs are breathing easily, my heart has expanded and my mind is at peace. I want to sing now.
I don’t anticipate negative experiences. I am ready to face the unknown.
At the end of the poem the river realises that it needs to take a risk to enter the ocean, because only then the fear will disappear. Because it is not about disappearing into the ocean, it is about becoming the ocean…
A tree is rooted in the ground, connected to other trees, reaching for the sky, it is drawing its energy from the earth, from the sun and the air. It is alive and constantly changing and growing.
This is how I feel about ‘Music by Jack’s Lake’ summer concerts, while celebrating 4 years old birthday this year.
Since I moved to Barnet in 2017, Jack’s Lake has become my temple. I come here with my dogs to enjoy its beauty. I am lucky to observe how it changes throughout the year. From bare frosty trees, to first fluffy buds, ankle high mud, to yellow irises and white lilies, giant trees fallen in the storm and herons nesting, and a breathtaking palate of shades of green. I come here on my own to share my prayers, hopes and grieves – it is the nature that I find most inspiring, comforting and healing.
And now I run a music festival here, connecting the communities, creating and performing most imaginative programmes with incredible and inspiring world-class musicians. As well as supporting charities.
Our first concert was in the summer of 2021, with three friends, lithium battery and sunshine. We had an audience of 200, still wearing facial covers. Since I have invited Tessa Seymour – Royal Opera House orchestra (an incredible cellist), Charles Mutter – BBC concert orchestra (Tremendous violinist, pianist, viola player and is an incredible arranger), Michael Czanyi-Wills, who writes music for films and is an internationally acclaimed pianist and a celebrated piano/composition teacher, Jean-Kristoff Bouton – an acclaimed Operatic baritone, singing internationally, Judith Kelemen – an amazing viola player from BBC Concert Orchestra, David Sztankov – immensely exciting young talented horn player, Zika Nicolic – a thrilling accordion player.
I feel grateful to so many people who help me make ‘Music by Jack’s Lake’ happen and without whom my lovely idea will not have come to fruition. My wholehearted gratitude is to the musicians, who give their time and huge talents so generously. My huge gratitude goes to John Hall, whose belief in these concerts and enthusiasm are really what is making this festival reach the sky. I am immensely grateful to Roger De La Mer and all who volunteer their time, put so much thought into making it better and to help it run smoothly. Immense thank you to Jim Sorenson and to World Heart Beat Music Academy.
This year ‘Music by Jack’s Lake’ is proudly presented by Monken Hadley Trust I am also immensely grateful to the sponsors and benefactors, who’s generosity allowed me to bring in the best musicians and create an opportunity for the public to donate their contributions towards two charities. Monken Hadley Common Trust and Marcia Elton music bursary.
Marcia Elton helped me enormously when I came to London, to study at the Royal College of Music. We became friends until her death in 2017 and it is in her name that I have established this bursary, to help a young talented singing student to have singing lessons and workshops at World Heart Beat Music Academy.
A wise man once said: ‘Don’t look at the seed every day to watch it grow, trust it and water it plenty, it will all happen at the right moment’ I feel that this is exactly what has been happening to ‘Music by Jack’s Lake’
I consider these concerts a miracle, something positive that came out of the pandemic. I also consider each concert a miracle, because we all pray for the weather to be with us. And I want to also thank our wonderful audiences. People bring folded chairs, picnics and sometimes brave few drops of rain or slightly cooler conditions. I always receive such generous and warm feedback. This is an extraordinary experience with the backdrop of the lake being a perfect setting, with the sky above, the sun setting and the trees around creating a natural amphitheatre shape. There is a beautiful relaxing and uplifting live music and lots of families smiling. The most common feedback I get is that time stops here and all the racing of life becomes somehow easier. To me this is all a living, breathing organism of the community and I am so thrilled to be facilitating it and being part of it.
Our next concert is called ‘The Hope’. We will bring an exciting, familiar and new tunes from Cabaret/ Klezmer/Romantic music for accordion, violin, piano and voice. We might not change this world in one evening, but we will bring the multi-faith, diverse community together in nature and together we will pray through the music for peace. And with that we hope to send a ripple effect and inspire…
Can’t wait to see you there. Ilona
