The Spanish tourist began shouting slurs—“baby killer,” “genocide”—echoing the rhetoric that has spread globally since the war.

By Hezy Laing

What began as a quiet night on the Philippine island of Siargao turned into an unexpected test of resolve for Israeli traveler and reservist Uriah Brolmas.

He recounted his story to Israel’s Channel 14 news and even provided an accompanying video.

After serving in Gaza and Lebanon, Uriah did not imagine he would once again need to defend himself—this time not on a battlefield, but in a small café at three in the morning.

Yet a single question from a Spanish tourist “Where are you from?”—ignited a confrontation that revealed how quickly anti‑Semitism can surface, and how firmly Israelis refuse to bow to it.

Uriah recalls entering the café, a familiar stop for backpackers, when the man significantly bigger than him approached aggressively. “He asked again and again where I was from,” Uriah says. “I told him Israel.”

The atmosphere shifted instantly.

The tourist began shouting slurs—“baby killer,” “genocide”—echoing the rhetoric that has spread globally since the war.

Uriah, outnumbered in size but not in spirit, refused to hide his identity. “I wasn’t afraid. At most I walk away. But I’m not ashamed of who I am.”

The verbal harassment escalated into violence. Despite Uriah’s attempts to de‑escalate and point to the security cameras, the Spaniard struck first. That was the moment the balance changed.

Trained, disciplined, and unwilling to be intimidated, Uriah defended himself, leaving the attacker on the ground. “I told him before—don’t push this. I’m not a sucker,” he says.

During the fight, Uriah broke his finger on the man’s teeth, but the injury didn’t stop him.

Later, Uriah and friends returned to ensure the attacker didn’t continue threatening others. When the Spaniard tried again to lash out, Uriah neutralized him a second time.

Local police arrived and, to Uriah’s surprise, expressed sympathy for him. The attacker was placed in a holding cell, where officers openly mocked his failed aggression.

Despite the pain, Uriah remained composed. He demanded a formal apology and financial compensation—70,000 pesos—refusing to let the incident be brushed aside.

The attacker ultimately complied, and Uriah later underwent surgery in Thailand to repair his finger.

Reflecting on the event, Uriah says he chose to share his story to send a message: Israelis traveling abroad should not feel compelled to shrink themselves. “We’re not a nation of suckers,” he says. “Just because someone harasses us doesn’t mean we fold like mice.”

He returns home with a screw in his finger—but with his pride intact, and one anti‑Semite now thinking twice before targeting a Jew.