When Kevin Wilk faced antisemitism for the first time in the East Bay, it was broadcast through the speakers inside Walnut Creek’s council chambers.

Wilk, the first Jewish resident to be elected to the Walnut Creek City Council in the city’s 102-year history, was bewildered when people from what he describes as the “underbelly of society” disrupted two separate June meetings with hate speech.

Local governments began using Zoom to sustain participation in public meetings during the pandemic, and three years later, the vital tech is still improving resident access around the Bay Area. But it’s also become a way for bigots and trolls to interject anonymous racist and homophobic messages into city proceedings.

“Now to see it in our backyard, and have people calling in to just spew antisemitism and derogatory statements towards me, purely because I’m Jewish, is stunning,” Wilk, who joined the council in 2016 has lived in the area off and on for 50 years, said in an interview. “It makes me angry that there are people who are using anonymity to spread their hateful messages at people that they don’t know personally, but have been identified through the color of their skin, their religion, their gender identity, their ethnicity, or anything that these haters consider as ‘others.’”

As government officials moved to provide remote viewing options beginning in 2020, malicious hackers started “Zoom bombing” meetings across the Bay Area, from city council proceedings in Walnut Creek, San Jose, Richmond and elsewhere, to gatherings of agencies such as the South Bay’s Valley Transportation Authority. Attendees were shocked by sudden racial slurs, pornographic images and more. Political provocateurs and unscrupulous commenters have continued bypassing added security measures using access links and codes that are legally required to be available to the public.

As cities across the U.S. cope with how to quell the hateful rhetoric while ensuring freedom of speech, there seem to be more questions than clear-cut answers.

Cities already prohibit vulgarity and direct threats, but how many warnings should be given before someone’s microphone is cut off? Can public meetings require identification of speakers, or introduce a lag that delays what is streamed online? Can officials limit the number of minutes or times someone speaks?

The Cupertino Union School District tried to solve the problem last August by only allowing Zoom for basic access to municipal discussions, with comments reserved for in-person attendees only, but the backlash pushed district officials to reverse course two weeks later. The city of Lafayette briefly explored dropping remote access entirely in 2020.

When similar issues were argued in court this year, federal judges ruled that while civility cannot be required during public comments, governments are not required to broadcast all remarks. While some legal experts question the legitimacy of the view, the U.S. Supreme Court in 1952 also upheld “group libel” law, which rebuked statements and publications that exposed racial or religious groups to “contempt, derision, or obloquy.”

“Our First Amendment is so broad that — as the saying goes — even if I hate what you say, I’ll defend your right to say it,” Wilk said. “But freedom of speech does not mean freedom of reach. There has to be regulation, just as you can’t yell ‘fire’ in a crowded theater or incite a riot.”

While city attorneys and legislators weigh their options, Wilk is adamant that these hate-speech incidents should not be ignored.

“When it starts to really go beyond the boundaries of what was tolerated previously, I think it really is important to highlight that we’ve hit a touchstone now,” he said. “We’ve seen time and again throughout history, that when those kinds of comments are spread, people can become numb and almost accept them as just another opinion that they’re normalized.

“That’s when the real danger occurs,” he said.

Teresa Drenick, the Anti-Defamation League’s deputy regional director for the central Pacific region, said it’s vital that people report incidents of hate speech to organizations like hers, as well as local law enforcement, even when technically not dealing with criminal activity. That communication often provides the best opportunity to connect the dots about what’s happening with hate speech in the community, Drenick said.

In 2021, anti-Jewish hate crimes reached an all-time high — both nationally and across California — in the 42 years that the ADL, a Jewish civil rights organization, began collecting data. Such crimes rose again last year, setting a new record.

“We need to pay attention that hate crimes and antisemitism are on the rise, because we as a society need to know that it’s happening and be aware in order to combat it,” Drenick said. “The opposite is to stay silent and not say anything, and that is far worse.”