By: Fern Sidman

The quiet halls of a Belgian hospital in Knokke-Heist erupted into the center of an international scandal last week when a radiologist identified a nine-year-old girl’s “Jewish (Israeli)” identity as a medical problem in her official records. The episode, first reported by Israel Hayom and later amplified by Jewish watchdog groups, has intensified long-simmering concerns that antisemitism has permeated even supposedly neutral spaces like hospitals and clinics — places where lives depend on impartiality, professionalism, and trust.

The Algemeiner, which has consistently tracked the rising tide of antisemitism across Europe and beyond, emphasized in its report that appeared on Monday that the Belgian case is not an isolated aberration. Rather, it represents the latest in a disturbing series of incidents where health-care workers have allowed anti-Jewish hatred to shape, or at least openly color, their treatment of patients.

According to reporting in Israel Hayom, the young girl had come to AZ Zeno Campus Hospital in Knokke-Heist for treatment after suffering a forearm injury while playing on a climbing structure. Dr. Qasim Arkawazy, a radiologist of Iraqi origin, duly recorded her presenting complaint: “Pain in the left forearm, fell from the climbing structure to the ground; a man fell on top of her.” But where the report should have listed relevant allergies or underlying conditions, Arkawazy inexplicably entered: “Jewish (Israeli).”

A censored version of the file, circulating widely on social media, confirmed the shocking annotation. Subsequent investigations by the Jewish Information and Documentation Center (JID) in Belgium revealed that Dr. Arkawazy had a history of disseminating antisemitic and anti-Israel propaganda on Facebook. His posts included grotesque images, such as babies impaled on a Star of David and Hasidic Jews rendered as vampires — evidence of deeply ingrained hostility.

The European Jewish Congress (EJC) denounced the medical note as “blatant antisemitism: dehumanizing, discriminatory, and utterly unacceptable.” The group stressed that Jewish families should never have to fear that their treatment could be compromised in medical settings. “This is not just unethical; it’s dangerous,” the EJC warned.

Belgian lawmaker Sam van Rooy echoed these concerns, writing: “How can a Jewish person whose medical file is being handled by this doctor now feel at ease?”

As The Algemeiner reported, JID is now filing formal complaints both with Belgian law enforcement and the national medical establishment. The organization intends to press for both disciplinary action against Arkawazy and broader accountability measures to ensure such bigotry cannot infiltrate patient care.

The Belgian case is not an outlier. Across Europe, troubling examples continue to surface of medical professionals allowing antisemitic bias — and sometimes outright hate — to dictate their behavior.

Last month in Italy, two hospital workers filmed themselves discarding Israeli-made medications produced by Teva Pharmaceuticals. The performative act, posted gleefully on social media, was celebrated as a protest against Israel. But as The Algemeiner report pointed out, the implications were chilling: if doctors and nurses willfully discard lifesaving medications out of political spite, what confidence can Jewish patients have that their care will be safeguarded?

In the United Kingdom, the situation has been equally alarming. A physician who praised Adolf Hitler during a tirade was recently allowed to return to work despite widespread condemnation. Separately, the University College London Hospitals NHS Foundation Trust was forced to issue a public apology after anti-Israel posters appeared inside its facilities. The posters, which declared “Zionism is Poison” and accused Israel of mass atrocities, caused Jewish patients to question whether they could expect fair treatment at all.

As reported by The Algemeiner, even midwives have become embroiled. Fatimah Mohamied, who openly celebrated Hamas’s October 7 massacre on social media, resigned from her post at Chelsea and Westminster Hospital but has since filed legal action claiming discrimination. Her supporters cast her as a victim of censorship, while Jewish patients are left reeling at the prospect that medical staff can glorify terrorist atrocities and still expect to serve in hospitals.

Some cases go beyond bias and into the realm of explicit threats. Dutch authorities opened an investigation into nurse Batisma Chayat Sa’id after reports surfaced that she had threatened to administer lethal injections to Israeli patients. Although she later denied the accusation, her social media activity included disturbing posts celebrating the deaths of Israelis and calling for more violence.

In Australia, the situation escalated even further. Video surfaced of two nurses, Ahmad Rashad Nadir and Sarah Abu Lebdeh, bragging online about killing Israeli patients and pledging to continue doing so. Abu Lebdeh declared she would refuse to treat Israelis and instead murder them, while Nadir mimed a throat-slitting gesture. As The Algemeiner report indicated, the video shocked Australian society. Both nurses were swiftly suspended, stripped of their licenses, and charged with federal crimes carrying potential prison sentences of over 20 years.

For Jewish communities worldwide, these incidents are not abstract. As one Australian Jewish mother told The Algemeiner: “I don’t know how safe I would feel giving birth at that hospital.”

The phenomenon is not confined to Europe. In North America, antisemitism within the health-care sector has been documented with disturbing regularity.

A study released in December 2024 by StandWithUs found that 40 percent of Jewish American health-care professionals had personally experienced antisemitism in their workplaces. In Canada, a parallel survey put the figure at 80 percent.

The crisis is particularly pronounced in academic medical centers. According to the data provided by StandWithUs, nearly 63 percent of Jewish professionals employed by university-affiliated hospitals reported antisemitic incidents — far higher than those in private practices or community facilities.

Last week, U.S. lawmakers formally launched investigations into antisemitism at several leading medical schools, including UCLA’s David Geffen School of Medicine and UCSF. The inquiry was sparked by complaints of pervasive anti-Israel activism creating hostile environments for Jewish staff and patients.

For Jewish families, the implications are devastating. Medicine requires complete trust between doctor and patient. Yet as The Algemeiner report observed, these incidents corrode that trust, replacing it with suspicion and fear. If a child’s file can list “Jewish (Israeli)” as a pathology, if a nurse brags online about killing Israelis, or if a hospital hangs posters proclaiming “Zionism is Poison,” then the very idea of universal, impartial care collapses.

The Belgian girl’s case is emblematic: she came to a hospital seeking care for a broken arm. Instead, her identity was treated as a defect, an ailment in itself. For her parents, and for Jewish parents everywhere, the episode raises the horrifying question: will my child’s life be weighed differently because she is Jewish?

Jewish organizations, from the EJC to StandWithUs, have called for sweeping reforms: robust training for medical staff, clear disciplinary mechanisms for antisemitism, and international cooperation to set standards of zero tolerance. They argue that protecting Jewish patients is not only a moral imperative but a professional one, essential to safeguarding the integrity of medicine itself.

As The Algemeiner has consistently underscored, antisemitism in medical spaces is particularly pernicious because it weaponizes the very systems meant to protect human life. The danger is not just discriminatory words or hurtful symbols; it is the potential denial of treatment, the abuse of trust, and, in the most extreme cases, the threat of medicalized violence.

The Belgian scandal may fade from headlines, but its lesson should not: antisemitism can infiltrate anywhere, even the sanctuaries of health and healing. The question now is whether governments, hospitals, and professional associations will act with the urgency required — before another child, or another patient, finds themselves pathologized not for their illness but for their Jewishness