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Herzog Park and the Erasure of Irish Jewish Memory

by Ram ben Ze'ev



Herzog Park and the Erasure of Irish Jewish Memory
Herzog Park and the Erasure of Irish Jewish Memory

Something deeply unsettling happened in Dublin this week. Dublin City Council decided that Herzog Park should be renamed. The stated reason is to honour an Arab girl from Gaza, Hind Rajab, whose death in the aftermath of the terrorist invasion of Israel, has been widely publicised. That this girl was killed is not in dispute. What is in dispute is the speed with which her story was weaponised to overwrite the memory of a man who fought the Nazis as an Irishman, who was raised in Dublin, and who remains part of Ireland’s own Jewish heritage: Chaim Herzog.


This debate is not simply about emotion or sorrow. It is about civic process, historical continuity, and the message being sent about whose legacy is disposable in Ireland.


Even the circumstances of the girl’s death are not resolved. Israel publicly stated that no IDF troops were present at the scene or within firing range at the time, and that medical rescue coordination was unnecessary because there were no forces in the area at all. That is the official position of the Israeli military. Other media reports have claimed the opposite, but those accounts rely entirely on unverified narratives and selective reporting. In other words, the truth is not established. The facts are still contested. And yet the renaming went ahead as if the matter were already decided.



That alone should have halted the vote.


There is a pattern here that cannot be ignored. When Jewish names appear in the Irish landscape, they are treated as temporary. They are tolerated only until public pressure demands their removal. Jewish memory in Ireland is allowed only on condition. When it becomes inconvenient, it is erased. This act is not neutral. It continues a long trend of selective inclusion and exclusion. It signals that Jewish presence in Ireland remains conditional.


Chaim Herzog was not a foreigner to Ireland. He was not an outsider. His name on a public space is not a statement about modern conflict. It is a recognition that Ireland once produced men who stood against fascism. Removing his name sends a very different message: that Jewish contribution to Irish history can be discarded without thought.


The death of an Arab child in Gaza has been transformed into a political instrument. The renaming has been justified not by careful reflection or respect for heritage, but by a wave of sentiment and media amplification. This is not compassion. It is the exploitation of grief for political ends. It cheapens the tragedy rather than honouring it.


There is also a critical legal and civic question that has been conveniently ignored. Dublin Corporation did not originally own the land outright. It obtained a long-term lease in 1954.



Someone granted that lease. It is not yet clear whether the city holds the freehold, or whether the naming was tied to the original terms. If a private or institutional lessor still retains rights, then the council’s move may not even be lawful. It may be reversible. Ownership matters, because authority matters. A city does not have the moral or legal right to erase Jewish heritage if it does not hold the title to begin with.


Ireland claims to value memory, but memory cannot be selective. Herzog Park is not a symbol of foreign politics. It is a symbol of Jewish belonging in Ireland. It is a reminder that Jewish men and women stood against tyranny long before the slogans and activist campaigns of today. Erasing the name tells a very different story—that Jewish presence is negotiable.


The park should remain Herzog Park—not because the Arab girl’s death is unimportant, but because rewriting public spaces in response to political pressure is not compassion. It is cultural vandalism.


And there are questions that must now be asked:


  • Who owns the land?

  • Who holds the right to change the name?

  • Who benefits from erasure?

  • Why is Jewish memory always the first to be removed?


Until those questions are answered, this decision stands not as a gesture of solidarity, but as a warning.


When Jewish heritage can be removed so easily in Dublin, the message is clear: this will not end with a name on a sign.



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