In 1492, Spain decreed that all Jews had to convert to Catholicism or leave its borders. In 2025, that’s not good enough; the Spanish government would rather drop a nuclear bomb on the Jewish state.

Spanish Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez said in a September 8 announcement of an arms embargo on Israel: “Spain, as you know, doesn’t have nuclear bombs, nor aircraft carriers or large oil reserves. We alone can’t stop the Israeli offensive.” Does this imply that if Spain did have nuclear bombs, it would use them against Israel?

“Aside from the head-spinning notion of Spanish nuclear dreams,” Jake Wallis Simons wrote for the Telegraph, “how astonishing that of all the countries that could top Madrid’s hit list, the likes of Russia, China, North Korea and Iran were pipped to the post by the Middle East’s only democracy.”

“Imagine the furor,” Simons continued, “if a European leader had directed similar comments at Britain, the United States or France when we fought our controversial wars in Iraq or Libya. Yet the story barely made the news.”

This may be the most blatant example of high-profile anti-Semitism in Spain. But it is far from the only recent case. Israel’s war with Gaza is approaching its second anniversary. In the past few months, Spain has had several shocking examples of anti-Semitism.

Moves Against Jews

Spain recognized a Palestinian state on May 28. France, Britain, Canada and others made their announcements of recognizing a Palestinian state this month, seemingly more as an ultimatum for Israel to stop the war. Spain didn’t seek Israeli concessions; its recognition seems more heartfelt.

On July 23, forty-four French teenagers of Jewish descent and eight counselors boarded a flight from Valencia, Spain, to Paris, returning from a summer camp. The airline, Spain-based Vueling, and Spanish police forced the group off the flight, claiming they were disruptive. Even if true, video footage suggests the police used excessive force, pushing a camp counselor to the ground to arrest her. Spanish Transportation Minister Óscar Puente referred to the teens as “Israeli brats,” despite their only apparent connection to Israel being their Jewish heritage.

Left-wing activist Greta Thunberg boarded a flotilla in Barcelona on September 1 in a highly publicized sailing to reach Gaza and “break Israel’s blockade.”

On September 12, the Sestao Chess Club in the Basque Country hosted an international tournament. Seven Israeli competitors enrolled, but the club told them they weren’t allowed to compete under their national flag. All seven resigned; the club later stated it was its “goal” to make sure the Israelis left the tournament.

These are not the only high-profile anti-Semitic incidents rocking the Western world. But the fact that they all happened in one country, sometimes with state support, is extremely concerning.

Ghosts

This is well within Spanish historical tradition. After the “Catholic monarchs” Ferdinand and Isabella evicted Spain’s Jews in 1492, Spain soon established its Inquisition to hunt down Jews feigning conversion. Judaism was a crime in Spain until 1968. In the 19th century, it was easier to be a Jew in Russia or the Muslim world than it was in Spain.

Two years ago, I visited Toledo, Spain’s historic capital under the Habsburgs and the Holy Roman Empire. Toledo is home to Spain’s national museum on Sephardic Jews. Compared to Jewish museums I’ve visited in places like Prague and Amsterdam, Toledo’s was a derelict—a small, dark, rundown building with hard-to-follow exhibits. This contrasted starkly with Toledo’s pride in its myriad of well-kept Catholic sites.

Toledo wasn’t the only place I visited in Spain. I walked several times across Madrid’s Plaza Mayor, the central square at the heart of the city where heretics were burned at the stake during the Inquisition. I toured the Alhambra in Granada, the Moorish palace where Ferdinand and Isabella announced their 1492 decree.

Today, people tour these areas to marvel at their history. A few blocks down, modern high-rises and chain restaurants remind those tourists how time has progressed.

It can be easy to look at countries like Spain and be impressed by modernity’s facade. The Inquisition has been replaced by human rights and a modern justice system. Absolute monarchy has given way to democracy. Instead of invading its neighbors, Spain now shares a currency and a blue flag with them.

Yet the foundational aspects of national identity are still there. You can see it in historical buildings. And you can see it in the Spanish government’s actions against Israel.

Spain is a good example of what we sometimes call “the ghosts of Europe’s past.” One can look at Europe and see a futuristic, glass-and-steel world of progress and freedom. Europe today looks nothing like the Europe of old—a Europe of bloody wars, of religious persecution, of totalitarianism.

Yet scratch the surface, and those old ghosts still exist. Hungary cracks down on dissidents as if it were still part of the Communist bloc. In Austria, a neo-Nazi party wins an election. Germany’s equivalent party isn’t far behind. Paris’s political chaos is eerily similar to revolutionary France right before Napoleon’s takeover.

It’s as if no matter how hard Europe tries to break with its past, the past always catches up. It’s as if the past never really became the past. It’s as if it is still the present—but underground, waiting to resurface.

Could this pose a danger—to Israel or any other country?

Beasts

The Apostle John finished the canonization of the Bible during the Roman Empire. Revelation 13 describes God’s view of Rome. Verse 1 brands Rome “a beast ris[ing] up out of the sea, having seven heads and ten horns, and upon his horns ten crowns, and upon his heads the name of blasphemy.” Verse 2 says “the dragon [Satan—Revelation 12:9] gave him his power, his throne, and great authority” (New King James Version). This beast is an unstoppable war machine with a particular taste for the blood of God’s people (verses 4, 7).

Rome is the founding culture for modern Europe. Europe’s laws, political systems, religion and even most of its languages are all part of this Roman legacy. This empire that God calls a “beast” is, to many Europeans, a legacy to admire—and a legacy to resurrect.

A related prophecy in Revelation 17 also describes a “beast.” But this beast is ridden by a woman, a biblical symbol of a church (2 Corinthians 112-3; Ephesians 5:25-32). Revelation 17:10 shows this empire is made of consecutive governments that rise, peak, fall and then give way to another resurrection of the system. This is not the Roman Empire of Augustus and Nero. This is Catholic Europe’s repeated attempts to resurrect that empire. Verse 10 also shows there would be seven resurrections of this empire. As The Holy Roman Empire in Prophecy elaborates, there have been six such resurrections. These were led by men like Charlemagne, Napoleon and Hitler.

Six of these heads have come and gone. The Trumpet expects the final one to form in Europe in our day. Spain’s movement against the Jews is part of this.

To learn more, request a free copy of The Holy Roman Empire in Prophecy.