On the 15th of April 60 years ago, British troops entered the German concentration camp of Bergen Belsen. And later today I'll be joining some of the survivors in a ceremony to commemorate that event.

The troops had no idea at the time that they were about to discover anything unusual. Auschwitz had already been liberated, but by the Russians, and British soldiers were still unaware of the existence of the factories of death. What they saw when they entered have become some of the defining images of human history - piles of corpses, emaciated prisoners on the brink of death, and the first intimation of the systematic programme we've come to call the Holocaust.

In a week's time, Jews will be celebrating the festival of Passover, which tells a far older story of slavery and attempted genocide - of the Israelites in Egypt 3300 years ago. Ever since, in what must be the oldest continuous ritual in the West, we've re-enacted that event, eating the unleavened bread and bitters herbs of slavery and drinking four cups of wine, each a stage on the road to freedom.

Ever since I've been old enough to understand Jewish history, from Egypt to Bergen Belsen, one question has haunted me. How did Jews survive all those centuries of persecution - sustaining their ancient faith while making significant contributions to the arts and sciences, industry and the academy, as they've done in Britain since 1656? Knowing all the pain and persecution, why didn't they just give up?

The answer, it seems to me, lies in Passover itself. We never forgot the story; we taught it to our children; and we always told it in such a way as to end on a note of hope: "this year we are slaves, next year we'll be free." Passover kept hope alive, and hope kept the Jewish people alive.

It may seem odd to speak about these things in the middle of a general election campaign. But I sometimes worry for the future of Britain and the world. We live among so many racial and religious tensions. Our world is changing almost faster than we can bear. We seem to lack any clear sense of where we are going and why.

If Jewish history has anything to teach politicians of today it's: speak to our ideals, not just our interests. Tell the story that unites us as a nation. Above all, construct a narrative of hope, because it is hope, not fear, that keeps a people alive.

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