Lord Mann’s recent report on antisemitism in the NHS contains a passage that is both challenging to read and more difficult to forget. One morning, a Jewish employee—the only one working there—arrived to discover that his locker was covered in bacon fat. There is no doubt. There is no space for interpretation. Simply brutality, delivered with the banality that contributes to the enduring nature of institutional hatred. The fact that this took place in a hospital—a facility built around the concept of care—tells you something about the discrepancy between what the NHS says it is and what some of its employees actually go through.
Before being promoted to the House of Lords, Lord Mann—born John Mann in January 1960—served as a Labour MP. In recent years, he has served as the government’s independent antisemitism adviser, putting him at the center of a more challenging national dialogue. His most recent review, which was ordered by the government in October of last year following the deadly attack at Manchester’s Heaton Park Synagogue, looked at how the NHS identifies, reports, and handles racism and antisemitism. The results, which were presented to Parliament this week, present a particular and extremely unsettling picture.
The proposal that has garnered the most attention is a ban on political badges worn by NHS employees. In an interview on BBC Radio 4’s Today program, Lord Mann put it in a straightforward manner. He said, “You don’t expect the person going to drill your teeth to be wearing a ‘I love Palestine’ badge if you’re sitting in a dentist’s chair,” or, for that matter, a ‘I love Israel’ badge. Avoid wearing either. Although this recommendation seems almost trivially obvious, the fact that it had to be formally stated in a government-commissioned review is instructive in and of itself. Realizing that standard professional boundaries had been so completely undermined that an impartial advisor had to define them is unsettling.
However, the obvious and debatable badge issue runs the risk of overshadowing any potentially more significant findings. “Routine ostracism” of Jewish employees in the NHS was described by Lord Mann. People are quitting their jobs. People are switching careers. Speaking up seemed like a risk they couldn’t afford, so people talked about it in whispers. The situation may be worse among patients. Jewish women who decide against giving birth in NHS hospitals. Older patients were delaying appointments because they were afraid of what they might run into. Lord Mann described this as potentially “catastrophic,” and it’s difficult to disagree. The repercussions of people ceasing to seek medical attention due to fear are real.
All of the report’s recommendations were approved by Health Secretary James Murray, who pledged “action not words.” Within six months, NHS trust chairs and chief executives are expected to receive mandatory anti-racism training. Minimum standards for how organizations prevent and handle racist incidents will be established by a new staff standard. Jim Mackey, the CEO of NHS England, called the antisemitism “unacceptable” and promised prompt action. It remains to be seen if that speed materializes. Institutions are less dependable when it comes to delivering urgency, but they are good at promising it.
After reading the report, one question that remains unanswered is why this review was required in the first place, as noted by commentator David Herman in The Article. For years, there have been reports of NHS employees donning politically charged or antisemitic symbols. Supervisors had the power to take action. Many didn’t. Lord Mann has identified a pattern in public services, theaters, and universities that suggests antisemitism may not have received the same institutional seriousness as other forms of racism. Professor David Miller was dismissed by the University of Bristol in 2021 due to remarks that labeled Zionism as racist. In 2025, Goldsmiths was found guilty of failing to stop an antisemitic culture on campus. Every case had the same pattern: reports appeared, institutions hesitated, and then outside pressure compelled an action.
This is also complicated legally. Three healthcare professionals have filed a lawsuit against Barts Health NHS Trust, claiming that their pro-Palestinian views are being discriminated against by the dress code. The outcome of that case could influence how Mann’s recommendations are actually implemented since it will test the boundary between professional neutrality and personal expression. In a clinical setting, the conflict between rights and responsibilities will always exist.
It’s clear from watching Lord Mann handle these challenges that he recognizes the gravity of the issue as well as the limitations of what a report can achieve. Documents are recommendations. Behavior is implementation. Additionally, behavior within big institutions shifts gradually and reluctantly, frequently only after the public’s attention has subsided and the quiet work of enforcement has started. The people whose names won’t be in any headlines will determine whether this review is a game-changer or just another well-meaning report collecting dust.