Tag: antisemitism

Let’s be more Jewish

It’s an inflammatory question. When attacks against Jews occur, as they are in increasing and alarming numbers in North America – including an incident of hateful graffiti at Camp Miriam on Gabriola Island recently – people ask why. Why Jews?

The problem with the formulation is that it suggests there is a justifiable answer to that question. It would be akin to asking, upon seeing statistics of domestic violence, why women?

Throughout the ages, scholars, pundits and philosophers have listed factors in Jewish theology and culture that confound, scare or irk others and contribute to antisemitic ideas and acts. The steadfast refusal to accept more dominant “successor” religions invites theological reactions. Adherence to cultural practices make Jews outsiders, to varying degrees, in every society. Jewish success in a range of fields invites envy.

But these explanations are all largely nonsense when it comes to the sorts of antisemitic acts we are seeing today. The primary explanation why, for so many people, it is all about Jews is counterintuitive – it is not about Jews at all.

For the most part, probably, the core motivation for engaging in racist and antisemitic acts has less to do with the victims than it does with the perpetrators. The definition of scapegoating is the assignment of sin or guilt onto an empty vessel that is then sacrificed. The hate and violence we are witnessing are almost certainly acts of scapegoating that reflect something amiss in the worldview of the perpetrators. These are people who identify problems in their lives or their world and seek an external entity to blame. Jews are history’s greatest scapegoat, regardless of our actual presence in any particular place. Notably, studies indicate that antisemitism is greatest in places where there are no Jews and it has perhaps always been thus. Shakespeare created the character Shylock hundreds of years after Jews were expelled from England, for example.

This is not comforting. If there were something more discrete motivating these incidents, perhaps they could be rationally contested. That the motivations are based on irrational projections makes them difficult to fight.

It is routinely said that Jews are the canaries in the coal mine of a society. The dehumanizing imagery this employs aside, it is undeniable that Western society today is experiencing some deeply troubling trends, from the emergence of “illiberal democracy” in the erstwhile democracies of Eastern Europe and Turkey to the stark chasms between partisans in still-healthy democracies. Rapid economic changes spark social and political reactions. The greatest migration of people on the planet in generations causes real or perceived threats to the status quo in the countries where these migrants are headed. And this is to leave aside the geopolitical dangers we face in relations with Iran, North Korea and many other flashpoints, as well as from decentralized terror groups that defy international boundaries. We are perhaps more surprised than we should be that, in the face of these developments and uncertainties, a number of people seek out that scapegoat of first resort: Jews.

As a result, stories are emerging of Jews going “undercover,” of being less inclined to be identified as Jewish in places like New York. There are other stories of Jews increasingly learning self-defence skills. Self-protection is primary in any situation and no one should be condemned for taking short-term measures in the midst of danger.

In the longer-term, though, there is an alternative to being (or appearing) “less Jewish.” If the root of this problem is not Jews, but disordered responses to a troubled world, then the answer, while not easy and most certainly idealistic, would be to be more Jewish, to embrace even more energetically a Jewish way of being and doing. We may not be able to change the distorted perspective of an antisemitic individual. But if, through our agency, we can promote fairness, tzedek (justice) and chesed (lovingkindness), we will advance a world in which people will not need to seek scapegoats.

Is it a fair burden that this labour should fall to Jews? Perhaps not. But maybe this is what we have been chosen to do in this moment in history.

Artistic responses

Gabriolans held a candlelight vigil after antisemitic graffiti was found at Camp Miriam. An arts festival will take place Feb. 7-9. (photo from You’ve Got a Friend)

Since Camp Miriam on Gabriola Island was defaced with antisemitic graffiti in December, Gabriolans have shown support for the Jewish community, including a candlelight vigil on Jan. 2. Next month, island artists, musicians and writers will gather together to present You’ve Got a Friend: A Festival of Jewish and Gabriolish Art, Words and Music. The Feb. 7-9 festival will feature Jewish-themed visual art, music and writing, all created by residents of Gabriola, among them Juno nominees and literary prizewinners.

“When people heard about the vandalism at Camp Miriam,” said Sima Elizabeth Shefrin, one of the festival’s organizers, “many said, ‘What can I do to help? How can I show my support?’ The festival is a chance to celebrate our friendship and solidarity with each other and to move things on in a positive way. We took the title, You’ve Got a Friend, from Carole King’s old song.”

The festival program includes visual art by Shefrin, Heather Cameron and others at the Gabriola Arts and Heritage Centre. The opening reception will take place Feb. 7, 6-9 p.m., and the gallery will be open Feb. 8, 10 a.m. to 4 p.m., and Feb. 9, 10 a.m. to 1 p.m.

The concert Oy! will feature Bob Bossin, Paul Gellman, Dinah D, the Today Only Klezmer Band and others. It will take place Feb. 8, 7:30 p.m., at the Roxy Lounge and Cultural Club, with tickets available at North Road Sports. Admission is a suggested donation of $15.

Earlier on the Saturday, at 3 p.m., Amy Block will lead a celebration for Tu b’Shevat, the Jewish new year of the trees, at the arts and heritage centre.

Finally, Nu? – poetry and memoir by Janet Vickers, Naomi Wakan, Lisa Webster, Shayna Lindfield, Gloria Levi, Lawrence Feuchtwanger, George Szanto and Bossin – will be held at the arts and heritage centre Feb. 9, 1-3 p.m.

You’ve Got a Friend is supported by Camp Miriam, the Gabriola Arts Council and Anne Landry. For more information, contact Cameron at [email protected].

Extremes and elections

Drawing parallels between political events in disparate countries may be folly, but it’s the season for frivolity, so why not. As British Conservative Prime Minister Boris Johnson was piling up an historically massive majority government, Canada’s Conservative leader Andrew Scheer was giving in to an apparently inevitable whimpering end to his leadership.

For most British Jews and many other observers, Johnson’s victory elicited something between relief and elation. While the Labour party has been the traditional home for many or most of that kingdom’s Jewish voters for generations, it is estimated that just six percent of British Jews voted to elect Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn prime minister this year. Corbyn has alienated Jewish voters and aligned with the most extreme elements in British society; his party is demonstrably rife with antisemitic people and ideas, as evidenced in a years-long probe first by the party and now by the country’s human rights watchdog. Under Corbyn, it seemed, there were two things the party would not tolerate: racism and Jews.

Of course, the election was not a litmus test on Corbyn’s antisemitism. Few non-Jewish voters probably made their decision based on that concern. Rather, his position on the ballot question – Brexit – was confused and inarticulate. Still, it was with a sense of justice, if not schadenfreude, that many Jewish observers watched Corbyn’s career collapse last week. Even so, the horse they bet on isn’t without serious flaws: Johnson is well known for his racism, xenophobia and Islamophobia, and his hard-right agenda is antithetical in other ways to many Jewish voters who may have found themselves between a rock and a hard place.

Hours earlier, Canada’s Scheer dropped the bomb that he would resign as party leader. The wagons had been circling since his defeat in the federal election in October. His Achilles heel, it is widely accepted, was his ambiguity around socially conservative policy issues.

During the campaign, opponents suggested that Scheer had concealed plans to threaten marriage equality and reproductive rights. However, the law permitting gay marriage and the absence of a law around abortion are both consequences of Supreme Court decisions, not of Parliament acting of its own volition. Barring a revolutionary shift at the Supreme Court, the status quo constitutionally could not be undone. More practically, there is very little political will to alter the status quo on these and a host of other litmus test issues. Not only are Canadians at large mostly in agreement with the way things stand, the critical mass of voters who swing elections are overwhelmingly centrist.

On the face of it, Scheer’s argument – that he has specific personal views that he would not manifest into legislation or policy; indeed, Justin Trudeau effectively and successfully made the same case four years earlier – is a morally valid one. Scheer’s problems on this front were twofold. He expressed his position poorly, failing to articulate either his deeply held values or his endorsement of the people’s consensus in a way that resonated with voters, and he misread the depth of investment many or most Canadians now have on these topics. He bet that Canadians might be satisfied with and respect the idea that he believes particular things but would not legislate on the basis of these faith-based positions. While this left many of his core supporters unenthused, it also misread the enthusiasm of the very voters he was trying to capture. Scheer’s refusal to participate in Pride parades became symbolic. A proportion of Canadians – the proportion that could swing elections – no longer wants a leader who will merely not interfere with an individual’s right to marry or to control their reproductive system, they want leaders who will unambiguously champion these rights.

There was plenty else wrong with the Conservative party’s campaign but, as Scheer tried to remind rogue members of his own party in the weeks following the results, they kept the Trudeau Liberals to a minority and, indeed, created a genuine threat of defeating them at points in the campaign, something few Conservatives thought was a reasonable possibility when Scheer was first elected party leader two years ago. Alas for him, the party smells blood and seems to want someone who can go in for the kill when this minority Parliament dissolves.

Even with the Conservative party in transition, Canadians might have to head to the ballot box before Trudeau’s four years are up. For the British, this month’s election was their third in less than five years. Meanwhile, Israel is gearing up for its third election in a year and the United States, too, is tumbling towards a fraught election.

We are in the midst, it seems, of a continuing test as to how well democracy can negotiate political extremism. At least for now, in Canada, the socially conservative “private” views of Scheer are political losers, but election results in other democracies prove that complacency can’t be an option.

A call to join Maspik!

No external threat worries Canadian Jewry more than the rising tide of antisemitism. For years, in grassroots consultations hosted by the Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs (CIJA), community members have unanimously and consistently said antisemitism is their primary concern.

Pay attention to any conversation on the steps of your nearest synagogue or community centre and you’ll likely hear concerned community members say that Jewish organizations of all stripes should be doing more to combat the scourge of Jew-hatred. To paraphrase the words of an emphatic member of the community in Montreal: “Get together already! Enough is enough! Maspik!”

That passionate individual faithfully represented the perspectives of many in our community. To combat antisemitism, we must work together. We are stronger when we are united, and we must unite on this issue now.

No country in 2019 is free of antisemitism, no political orientation is insulated against Jew-hatred and no movement is entirely immune from discrimination against our people.

Contemporary antisemitism wears many faces and threatens our community on multiple fronts – from the extreme right to the extreme left and, increasingly, from segments within the Muslim community. Some antisemites operate in broad daylight in the public square and on social media. Others lurk in the obscurest corners of the dark web. What unites them is their hatred of Jews. And that should unite us.

Canada may be the best place in the world in which to be Jewish but, make no mistake, this country is not immune from antisemitism and the threat it poses to our safety and well-being.

For years, CIJA has worked to keep antisemitism at the margins. In recent months, these efforts have resulted in two important developments: Canada’s adoption of the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance’s (IHRA) definition of antisemitism as part of the government’s anti-racism strategy and, secondly, the incorporation of many of CIJA’s policy positions in the study by the House of Commons Justice Committee, including our call for the creation of a national strategy to combat online hate and radicalization.

While these are important steps, in these challenging times, they are not enough. The enormity of the danger demands a unified approach. This is why we are calling on other organizations and individuals to join CIJA and a broad alliance of Jewish and non-Jewish groups in Canada from all sectors in establishing Maspik! A Coalition to Combat Antisemitism.

Thanks to support drawn from the proceeds of the recent Jewish National Fund Negev Dinner in Toronto, honouring Wendy Eisen and Carole Zucker, we now have the initial seed funds to launch this coalition, which we will expand and sustain over the longer term by establishing a fundraising program to ensure sufficient resources to create real impact.

In the coming weeks, CIJA and our federation partners across the country will establish an independent committee of lay leaders to oversee the grants and applications process. Once established, coalition members will be invited to apply for funding for action-oriented initiatives that advance our overarching objective of confronting and combating antisemitism in Canada.

It is time to act together. With your help, this coalition will provide support for individual organizational efforts, diminish the distracting noise of institutional egos, and give expression to a resounding sense of unity, as we join forces to combat a blight that is as old as the Jewish people.

Join CIJA, your local federation and other organizations representing tens of thousands of Jewish Canadians in saying enough is enough. Maspik!

Shimon Koffler Fogel is president and chief executive officer of the Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs (CIJA). To learn more about Maspik! A Coalition to Combat Antisemitism, visit maspik.ca.

Teaching in new ways

Prof. Ira Robinson of Concordia University’s Institute for Canadian Jewish Studies teaches a wide range of students about the Holocaust and antisemitism. (photo from Ira Robinson)

Ira Robinson is the director of Concordia University’s Institute for Canadian Jewish Studies and a professor of Judaic studies in the department of religions and cultures. A strong believer that an educator shouldn’t teach the same course in the same way year after year, he is always looking for new ways to reach students of all ages.

Born in Boston, Mass., Robinson moved to Montreal with his wife, Sandra, 40 years ago.

“I came to Canada because Concordia offered me a job, and I landed in the right place at the right time,” he told the Independent. “Academics don’t always have a complete choice of where they are going to settle. I came to Montreal and Montreal has a large and interesting Jewish community and a tremendously interesting bilingual culture.”

Though Robinson had never envisioned writing a book about antisemitism or the Holocaust, he did so, publishing A History of Antisemitism in Canada in 2015.

Robinson was trained by students of the late Salo Baron, a Polish-American historian, who once said, “If you want to understand the totality of Jewish history, you have to take into consideration that the pogroms and the massacres take only an infinitesimal amount of time, even though they wreak great havoc.”

According to Robinson, “Ninety-nine percent of the time, we’re dealing with normal life…. Baron and his students decided to look at the Jews as they had lived and not as they had died. That was the lesson that I took.”

For Robinson, this meant he would have to determine his own take on the history of antisemitism in Canada and, hence, “I came out with the book.”

Robinson starts many of his courses by telling students that there is nothing he is going to teach them that is not completely denied by somebody, somewhere. With this message, he is stressing that what he is about to teach is his perspective on what took place.

In looking at the history of antisemitism in Canada, for example, Robinson tried to contextualize the reasons Jews were looked at as guests in the 1920 and 1930s in Canada.

“What I did in this book is create a continuous narrative on antisemitism in Canada from the 18th century through to the present,” he explained. “There have been many very good studies on various aspects of antisemitism in Canada, the most famous of which is [Irving] Abella’s and [Harold] Troper’s None is Too Many. This academic book uniquely made a difference in the political discourse of Canada. Now, whenever anyone debates a refugee issue in Canada, the phrase, ‘None is too many,’ is sure to come into the discourse or debate at some point. That was a great success, but the book only concentrates on the 1920s to the 1940s, and mainly focuses on the Canadian federal government.”

Since the research for Robinson’s book was completed in 2014, antisemitism has increased, he said. For that reason, he decided to find ways to teach about the problem to younger children, kids in grades 4 to 6.

“It presents a challenge, because I have to begin with who they [antisemites] are and where they are,” said Robinson. “And so, I started by talking with them [the kids] about bullying, because bullying, as you understand, is something that kids know about and people talk to them about it.

“If you see somebody bullying somebody else, what are you supposed to do? If you can intervene, you should intervene. If you need to call somebody in a position of authority, you call somebody…. So, I said, ‘imagine that there are kids and you can bully them and nobody is going to stop you. And imagine that, if somebody goes to a person of authority, they will just say, ‘Good for you!’”

Robinson took it a step further, creating a PowerPoint presentation focusing on the wearing of the yellow Jewish star that was imposed upon Jews.

“I showed first a picture of a girl’s dress with the yellow star shown on it – just the dress, nobody in it,” he said. “Then, the next thing I showed was a little girl in a dress with the yellow star. When I changed the slide from just the girl’s dress with the yellow star to the little girl in the dress with a yellow star, I could hear a slight gasp among the students. So, there are ways – you have to talk to the people you have in front of you.”

Robinson gave this presentation in a public school and, as far he knows, there were no Jewish students in the classroom. “I am used to talking to a wide range of people,” he said. “And, in my university classes, for instance, I do expect Jews to enrol, and they do. But, I also expect Muslims and Christians to enrol, and they do, and everybody else, too.”

In Robinson’s view, the challenge of finding ways to disseminate the information effectively is always a worthwhile exercise.

“There are lots of people involved in Holocaust education and I think a lot of them are spending a lot of effort introducing and assisting in educating about the Holocaust in public school systems. The problem, as always, is not lack of good will,” he said, “but that the schools are under great pressure from a whole bunch of different directions. What should our children study? And the mega trend, not merely in public schools, but also in universities, is moving away from the social sciences and humanities, and focusing on other subjects.”

As far as teaching methods regarding the Holocaust and antisemitism, Robinson said, “I think I am able to speak with more depth, because you can’t teach the same course in the same way for decades. You have to develop a scholarly understanding as the field develops and, so, my teaching is informed by my reading and my reading continues to inform me.

“And my power is that I am able to direct students to certain books, certain articles and certain films that I think will help them develop their sense of things. But, before I can even do that, before I can guide anybody, I have to find the things myself, first and foremost.”

Rebeca Kuropatwa is a Winnipeg freelance writer.

A bleak take on our times

Bari Weiss, the New York Times columnist, grew up in Pittsburgh and so the shooting at the Tree of Life synagogue, in October 2017, hit even closer to home for her than for most Jewish North Americans. For many American Jews, she writes, it was the awakening after “a holiday from history.” It seems to have raised the question: Is the postwar reprieve from antisemitism coming to an end?

The majority of her tight, short book, How to Fight Anti-Semitism (Crown, 2019) is a litany of bleak, depressing anecdotes and statistics about the rise of antisemitic ideas and violence in North America and Europe. One imagines the title, which suggests action and optimism, being brainstormed by the publisher’s more upbeat marketing department over the alternative The Sky is Falling. But this is not to discount the value of the bleakness. It is a brief synopsis of rightful concerns around the political climate in the West in 2019.

The awakening, Weiss seems to acknowledge, was overdue. She recounts the 2006 kidnapping, weeks of torture and eventual murder of Ilan Halimi in Paris by a gang who assumed that, because Halimi was Jewish, he was also rich. As shocking as the ferocious crime, writes Weiss, was the response by the French authorities and the public, who largely chose to ignore the innately antisemitic nature of what had happened in order to retain a national self-perception that was challenged by the murder.

The consequences of what is happening, she warns, raise the stakes from the safety of Jews to the protection of the very idea of America.

“The object of our protection is not just the Jewish people. It is the health and future of a country that promised to be a New Jerusalem for all who sought it out,” she writes.

I am always disconcerted by the argument that, if we do not stand up for Jewish people when they are threatened, the enemies might eventually come for someone we actually give a damn about. But the evidence accumulates that this may be the best argument at hand.

Weiss summarizes the many antisemitisms – of left and right, of the Soviets and the fascists, of some Muslims and some African-Americans – even “Purim antisemitism” and “Chanukah antisemitism” (an interesting theory first advanced by the writer Dara Horn and it’s worth a Google). In brief, Weiss argues that the right of the spectrum considers Jews insufficiently white and not Christian, while the left contends that Jews are too white and overly privileged. Far-right antisemitism is more familiar, perhaps more clearly identifiable and is fought in partnership with what she calls Jewish people’s natural allies, liberals. Antisemitism on the left puts Jews in an especially challenging position.

She notes that the antisemitism and racism of Steve King, the far-right Republican congressman, is open to widespread criticism. “But criticize Women’s March leader Linda Sarsour for her repeated antisemitic outbursts? Criticize her and you are not just rendered racist and misogynist and an Islamophobe in league with Trump, you stand accused of putting her life at risk for trying to hold her accountable for promoting antisemitism.” (For her part, Sarsour two weeks ago declared that Weiss is “on the wrong side of history,” a statement so brazenly jaw-dropping that the publisher really should issue a revised edition of Weiss’s book just to include Sarsour’s latest.)

Weiss also walks into the lion’s den by making the equation between Muslim migration to Europe and increased antisemitic violence. And the stats she includes make challenging reading. A 2008 Pew poll indicated that 97% of respondents in Lebanon have negative view of Jews, followed by 96% in Jordan, 95% in Egypt and 76% in Turkey and Pakistan. She contrasts this with a 2015 Anti-Defamation League survey indicating that, in Germany, 56% of Muslims hold antisemitic views, compared with 16% of the general population. In France, it’s 49% to 17% and, in the United Kingdom, 54% to 12%.

When, at the end of the book, she actually gets to the nub of fighting antisemitism, Weiss outlines a number of strategies, few of which are novel but all of which are worthy.

“Resist hierarchical identity politics,” is one of her steps. “Corrupt identity politics on the right – the Olympics of Purity – tell the Jews that they can never be white or Christian enough. Corrupt identity politics on the left – the Olympics of Victimization – tell the Jews that they can never be oppressed enough.”

She calls on Jews to maintain liberalism for the sake of a healthy democracy, to support Israel, which includes demanding that Israel live up to its ideals, to “lean into Judaism” and “tell your story.”

She calls on Jews to “apply the kippah (or Magen David) test”: “If you would be uncomfortable wearing a kippah or a Magen David necklace in your neighbourhood, you should make a plan to improve your neighbourhood or make a plan to leave it.”

Most of her recommended ways to fight antisemitism presume that the reader is Jewish. This may be a fair assessment on the author’s part, but a non-Jewish person seeking to be an ally, who would find plenty of motivation in the first part of the book, will not find much actionable advice in the last short section. It should not, of course, be left only to Jews to fight antisemitism but, like the pragmatic decision to argue that the safety of Jews is a prerequisite to the safety of the entire society, it is probably a reasonable assumption at this point to accept that Jews are the most likely to do so. Which may simply underscore the problem her book is intended to confront.

Time to face ourselves

Actor and comedian Sacha Baron Cohen delivered the keynote address last month at an Anti-Defamation League conference. His words quickly went viral because he pinpointed fears and challenges shared by millions about the power of social media. He hit many nails on the head.

“Democracy, which depends on shared truths, is in retreat, and autocracy, which depends on shared lies, is on the march,” he said. “Hate crimes are surging, as are murderous attacks on religious and ethnic minorities. All this hate and violence is being facilitated by a handful of internet companies that amount to the greatest propaganda machine in history.”

He was referring to social media like Facebook and Twitter and platforms like YouTube and Google, whose algorithms, he said, “deliberately amplify the type of content that keeps users engaged – stories that appeal to our baser instincts and that trigger outrage and fear.”

Had Facebook existed in the 1930s, he went on, it would have run 30-second ads for Hitler’s “solution” to the “Jewish problem.”

Baron Cohen acknowledged that social media companies have taken some steps to reduce hate and conspiracies on their platforms, “but these steps have been mostly superficial.”

“These are the richest companies in the world, and they have the best engineers in the world,” he said. “They could fix these problems if they wanted to.” The companies could do more to police the messages being circulated on their sites, he suggested.

He’s correct about the problems. But the first problem with his solution is that he is asking a couple of corporations to judge billions of interactions, making them not only powerful media conglomerates, which they already are, but also the world’s most prolific censors and arbiters of expression. Of course, by abdication, they are already erring on the side of hate speech, but is the alternative preferable? If we think Facebook chief executive officer Mark Zuckerberg has too much power now, do we really want to make him the planet’s censor-in-chief?

Yes, the platforms benefit from and, therefore, promote, the most extreme viewpoints. But, even if we could, would forcing those voices off the platforms make the world a safer place? There are already countless alternative spaces for people whose extremism has been pushed off the mainstream sites. Just because we can’t hear them doesn’t mean they’ve gone away.

Marshall McLuhan, the Canadian philosopher who declared “the medium is the message” died four years before Zuckerberg was born. He could have predicted that social media would change the way we interact and communicate. But has it fundamentally changed who we are? Or has it merely allowed our true selves fuller voice? Perhaps a little of both. Facebook, Twitter and the others are not agnostic forces; they influence us as we engage with them. But, in the end, they are mere computer platforms, human-created applications that have taken on outsized force in our lives. And all the input is human-created. Since the dawn of the industrial age, we have imagined our own inventions taking over and controling us, from Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein to 2001: A Space Odyssey’s Hal to Zuckerberg’s Facebook.

In all these cases, fictional or not, the truth is that the power remains in human hands. This is no less true today. We could, if the political will existed, shut down these platforms or apply restraints along the lines Baron Cohen suggests. But this would be to miss the larger point.

We live in a world filled with too much bigotry, chauvinism, hatred and violence. This is the problem. Dr. Martin Luther King said: “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” And there are plenty of sites on social media that advance mutual understanding and love over hate. Are their messages as likely to go viral? Probably not. But that, ultimately, is determined by billions of individual human choices. A small but illuminating counterrevolution seems to be happening right now with a renaissance of the ideas of Mister (Fred) Rogers and his message of simple kindness. While much of the world seems alight in hatred and intolerance, a countermovement has always existed to advance love and inclusiveness. This needs to be nurtured in any and every way possible.

If Facebook were a country, its “population” would be larger than China’s. Bad example when we are discussing issues of free speech and the accountability of the powerful, perhaps, but illuminating – because an entity of that size and impact should be accountable. As a corporate body, it has few fetters other than governmental controls, which are problematic themselves. Concerned citizens (and platform users) should demand of these companies the safeguards we expect. We are the consumers, after all, and we should not ignore that power.

But neither should we abstain from taking responsibility ourselves. Social media influences us, yes. But, to an exponentially greater degree, it is merely a reflection of who we are. It is less distorted than the funhouse mirror we like to imagine it being. If what we see when we look at social media is a depiction of the world we find repugnant, it is not so much social media that needs to change, it is us.

Choosing love not hate

On Sunday, vigils were held in many cities to commemorate the 11 worshippers killed at Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh on Oct. 27, 2018. The shooting was the deadliest attack on Jews in American history.

As we have mourned and taken greater measures toward protecting ourselves, we have, mainly, not let fear paralyze us or isolate us from our neighbours and the larger world. We have continued to live Jewishly, whatever that means to each one of us; whether it’s helping those less fortunate, lobbying for sound government policies, going to synagogue or simply being kind to the people we encounter in our day.

In Vancouver, community members and others could join two collective moments of remembrance on Sunday: the Jewish Federations of North America’s Pause with Pittsburgh, which included the livestreaming of a public memorial service, and a service at Congregation Beth Israel, organized by the Rabbinical Association of Vancouver with the Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs, the Jewish Community Centre of Greater Vancouver, Hillel BC and the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver.

Over the weekend, Jews were also encouraged – as they were in the wake of the tragedy last year – to #ShowUpForShabbat, an initiative of the American Jewish Committee, calling for us “to honour the victims and raise our collective voice for a world free of antisemitism, hate and bigotry.”

Beth Israel’s Rabbi Jonathan Infeld, who grew up in Pittsburgh, told News 1130, “There are still many people who are frightened and worried about what took place a year ago…. There are people who are concerned about coming to synagogue and people who are concerned about antisemitism. Especially on holidays, one of the messages I deliver is that, unfortunately, antisemitism is on the rise in the world. But we have to remain strong, to have the courage to come to synagogue, and to not allow attacks like this to prevent us from being who we are and to deprive us of the benefits that come from being in a sacred space.”

Infeld also noted, “One of the aftermaths of the attack is that people in Pittsburgh didn’t feel this was an attack just on a synagogue, they felt it was an attack on Pittsburgh…. We have to understand an attack on any sacred space is an attack on an entire community, so we need to stand together as one community with the message that love is stronger than hate.”

While the situation is not as bad as elsewhere in the world, the number of hate crimes and the incidences of antisemitism in Canada, including in British Columbia, have increased worrisomely. Love has a long row to hoe. Not only to give us the courage to speak up in the face of prejudice, but also to confront and temper our own. Not only to make us self-assured enough to make space for those with whom we agree and for whom we care, but also for those with whom we disagree and whom we dislike. Not only to inspire us to dream of a better world, but to give us the imagination and resourcefulness to bring those aspirations into being.

Love can only be stronger than hate if we choose to make it so.

 

Compassion over hate

Tony McAleer, who helped found the organization Life After Hate, spoke at Congregation Beth Tikvah last month, along with fellow Life After Hate member Brad Galloway. (photo by Pat Johnson)

A former leader in Canada’s far-right white nationalist movements says targets of white supremacist extremism should not be expected to “hug a Nazi.” But, as difficult as it may be, seeing the humanity in everyone and finding compassion for people who lack compassion may be key to reducing the problem of racist extremism.

Tony McAleer was a member of the so-called White Aryan Resistance and his early embrace of technology and the internet helped propel that movement into the digital age. He later helped found the organization Life After Hate and now works with others who want to leave the neo-Nazi movement. He shared his personal history at Beth Tikvah synagogue, in Richmond, on Sept. 8. He has also spoken at other synagogues and venues in recent weeks.

“While we condemn the activities, while we condemn the ideology, we don’t condemn the human being,” McAleer said of his organization’s strategy. “It’s coming from that place of compassion.… The hardest thing to do in the world is to have compassion for people who don’t have compassion. We do that as harm reduction – hurt people hurt people, and we can bring them back from that place of hurt so they don’t do it anymore.”

McAleer grew up in a stable, comfortable Dunbar home, which contradicts some stereotypes, he said. He attended private Catholic school but lost respect for authority figures when he caught his father with a woman who was not McAleer’s mother.

“Can anyone remember the day when God fell off the pedestal?” he asked. His grades fell, his behaviour deteriorated and he was regularly sent to the principal’s office for canings.

“When I look back on it, I don’t think that I’ve ever felt more powerless than I did in that office time after time after time after time,” he said. “It didn’t make my grades go up. I continued to tune out.… I went from listening to Elton John and Queen to the Clash and the Sex Pistols. I was angry and the music I listened to was angry. It eventually led me down the road into the punk scene and later into the skinhead scene. And, in the skinhead scene, I found an outlet for my anger.”

Ideology is secondary, at best, as an attractant to racist groups, he said.

“What we find in the young men and women who are drawn to these movements is there’s an underlying rage, underlying vulnerability that makes the ideology so seductive,” he said. “I want to be very clear here. I’m not for a minute blaming anything I did on my childhood. Everything I did I chose to do and I take accountability for that and I always will. I work for Life After Hate, do things like this to pay back for that.”

He shares the story of his early life as an explanation, not as a justification, he said.

“What I found in the movement, what I found from being a skinhead – I found a sense of power, a sense of purpose, a sense of meaning,” McAleer said. “I got power when I felt powerless. I got attention when I felt invisible and I got brotherhood, camaraderie and acceptance when I felt unlovable.… Those are the vulnerabilities that make the ideologies so seductive. If you have those in a healthy way, the ideology doesn’t make sense to you. But, for somebody craving those things, the ideology becomes something powerful, a false seduction.”

When he was 21 years old, McAleer’s girlfriend gave birth to a baby girl.

“For the first time, I connected to another human being. Up until that point, I was completely cut off from my heart, I was completely dehumanized,” he said. “I believe that the level to which we dehumanize other human beings is a mirror reflection of how internally disconnected and dehumanized that we are.”

That began the transformation. He had a son months later and was soon a single father being assisted by his mother who, he said, “never gave up on me.”

“It’s safe to love a child,” he said. “They see the magnificence in us when we can’t see it ourselves when we look in the mirror…. The more I can connect to my humanity, the more I can connect to the rest of humanity. I couldn’t connect to the rest of humanity because I couldn’t connect to myself.”

Though he was heavily involved in antisemitism, it wasn’t about Jews, he said.

“I was projecting my crap and I had a vehicle to project it onto – the Jewish people – and that’s what I did.”

The compassion Life After Hate promotes must be accompanied by healthy boundaries and consequences, he said.

“It doesn’t mean we let people off the hook. It doesn’t mean we don’t hold people accountable,” he said. “We do hold them accountable. It’s like tough love. But we need to see the humanity, even in someone whose heart is filled with hate. I don’t think we can afford to dehumanize anybody regardless of how inhuman their behaviour. I believe that nobody is irredeemable. It’s tough work.”

Brad Galloway, who is also a member of Life After Hate, joined McAleer at the event. Also a former white supremacist, Galloway is now completing a degree in the school of criminology and criminal justice at the University of the Fraser Valley. He researches extremism and participates in interventions with members of hate groups to help them leave the movements.

Galloway too came from a middle- to upper-class home. After a fairly typical adolescence and a period of struggling to find his identity, he ran into a childhood friend who was involved in the white power movement.

“I was looking for an identity,” said Galloway. “I was looking for something to belong to, something that I can call my own. He gave me the chance. We’ll give you brotherhood, we’ll back you up, we’ll be there for you … some sort of pseudo-support network which never, never came to fruition. They never provided any of those things for me.”

photo - Brad Galloway
Brad Galloway (photo by Pat Johnson)

Like McAleer, it was fatherhood that made Galloway realize his extremism was putting his family at risk.

He also reflects on compassion he received from police and others during his time in the far-right.

“Why do these people care about me?” he wondered, adding that he began to recognize that individuals who were kindest to him were often members of the very cultural groups he demonized. After a gang brawl where Galloway was nearly killed, he saw compassion in action.

“I ended up in a hospital and I’m lying on the table and a doctor walks in and he’s an Orthodox Jew. I’m lying there with a swastika shirt on, blood all over me, thinking this guy should not help me. I do not deserve to be helped at all right now…. I felt like I was a terrible person and I didn’t feel I deserved this person’s time,” said Galloway. “He did not mention anything about me. He just did his job as a doctor and provided me exactly what I needed. That moment made me start to think about all these different times when minority communities had been good to me.”

Since the racist rally in Charlottesville, Va., in 2017, Life After Hate has been inundated with requests for help. About 300 new cases have opened, about half of which are people trying to leave the movement, the other half family seeking help to extricate their loved ones.

Cpl. Anthony Statham, one of two members of the RCMP’s B.C. Hate Crimes Unit also spoke, outlining the legal strategies employed to fight extremism.

McAleer’s book, The Cure for Hate: A Former White Supremacist’s Journey from Violent Extremism to Radical Compassion has just been released by Arsenal Pulp Press.

Focus on online hate

Kasari Govender, British Columbia’s human rights commissioner. (photo from Wosk Centre)

Hate in British Columbia, in Canada and globally is on the rise. In 2017, there were 255 police-reported hate crimes in British Columbia, an increase of 55% from just two years earlier. In 2018, Metro Vancouver had the highest rate of hate crimes reported to police in any of Canada’s three largest metropolitan areas, most based on the victim’s ethnicity or religion, with a smaller but significant number based on sexual orientation.

These alarming statistics, and others, provided a framework and urgency for an event Sept. 12 at Simon Fraser University’s Morris J. Wosk Centre for Dialogue in downtown Vancouver. The event, titled From Hate to Hope in a Digital Age, is envisioned as the inaugural annual Simces and Rabkin Family Dialogue on Human Rights.

Contextualizing the discussion, Shauna Sylvester, executive director of the Wosk Centre for Dialogue, cited the results of a report undertaken by her organization. These indicate that one in three Canadians believes Canadian-born citizens should have greater say in government than those born outside the country. One-quarter of Canadians say we have too many protections for minorities and one in four also believes we have too many protections for religious freedom.

Keynote speaker at the forum was Kasari Govender, in just her second week on the job as British Columbia’s human rights commissioner. She is the first to hold this role in the province since that office was closed in 2002.

“In my view, there is a strong connection between hateful speech and hateful violence, both on an individual and a systemic level,” she said, citing racist manifestoes sometimes posted online by perpetrators in advance of a mass killing. She said it is necessary to trace the path from speech to violence.

A common theme of recent mass murderers is anti-immigration sentiment, sometimes emphasizing the “purity of the nation, whether that nation is Canada, New Zealand, the U.S. or another,” she said, adding that many of the attacks around the world that have been linked to white nationalism correspond to discourse in mainstream political debates over immigration and public policy.

The worst antisemitic mass murder in United States history, the attack on Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh in 2018, happened while U.S. President Donald Trump and others were promoting fears of the so-called “migrant caravan” coming from Central America. Part of that conversation, Govender said, “was somehow blaming the Jews for this migrant caravan, drawing a connection in the public discourse, and then there was the shooting.”

Boris Johnson, now prime minister of the United Kingdom, compared women who wear burqas to bank robbers, which led, Govender said, to an increase in acts of hate against Muslim women in the United Kingdom.

Online hate is a particular product of technologies that have emerged in recent decades, she said. “The anonymity, reach and immediacy afforded by the internet escalates the problem beyond what we’ve seen before,” she said. “The internet is a very effective tool for fomenting hate from belief to action, from hateful words to violent actions.”

While forcing social media platforms to police hate speech might be criticized as an infringement of free expression, she said, the opposite is true. Regulating platforms to shut down violent rhetoric actually improves access to freedom of expression for many, as people of colour, women and others are being silenced online by racism and misogyny, she said.

Participants at the Wosk Centre offered a wide range of perspectives.

Evan Balgord, executive director of the Canadian Anti-Hate Network, outlined the approach his agency takes in confronting online hatred.

“Legal [action] would be our last recourse against a hate group or a hate propagandist,” he noted, saying that their first response is to “try to hold somebody socially accountable.” That means, if the person is anonymous, exposing them. If the person is not anonymous, this might mean bringing their posts to the attention of their employers, family and friends.

“Those might provide checks on their behaviour,” he said, adding, “We’re not really trying to reform people here, we’re just trying to stop the spread of hate propaganda.”

For those who do not respond to social accountability, Balgord said, Canada’s laws are insufficient. Application of the Criminal Code’s section that deals with the wilful promotion of hate and distribution of hate propaganda is unwieldy.

“We did use to have a better recourse,” he said. “It was Section 13 of the Canadian Human Rights Act. It would allow a private individual to essentially file a complaint, which would be vetted by the Canadian Human Rights Commission and, if found credible, would go to the tribunal. They could order a cease-and-desist order against that individual and up to a $5,000 fine.” If, at that point, the individual failed to comply, they would be in contravention of a court order and could face jail.

“We really want to see something like Section 13 come back,” he said.

Several speakers agreed that social media platforms need to do more policing of hate speech. Some countries have laws that force social media companies to address hate material on their platforms within certain timeframes or face serious fines.

Social media platforms, Balgord said, may already be in contravention of Canada’s existing laws against discrimination in the provision of a commercial service, because women, people of colour, LGBTQ+ people and other members of targeted groups are exposed to abuse, harassment and death threats that could drive them off the platform.

Rabbi Dr. Laura Duhan-Kaplan, director of inter-religious studies at the Vancouver School of Theology, noted that government budgets are limited but that education can take place everywhere – and that everyone is an educator. Early childhood is crucial, she said.

“What children do together, the songs they sing, the books they read, all of that becomes the building blocks of the way they think,” she said. “All of us who interact with children have an opportunity to begin to teach values of respecting difference, helping others, nonviolence.… One week of summer camp with friends on a theme of diversity, peace, public service – these are experiences that stay with teens and we really, really bring them into young adulthood in a different way.”

A speaker from the audience, a counselor and educator, noted that inequality, including economic inequality and poverty, makes people susceptible to fear and that can become a foundation for hate.

Another speaker contended that there is, in effect, no such thing as race.

“I think it’s very problematic to use the term race as if it’s a reality,” he said. “There is such a thing as racism but not really race. If you look at the majority of anthropologists, geneticists and so on, they say that we have much, much more in common with each other [than differences].… Even using terms like black and white to refer to people reinforces racism. We never call people yellow anymore, because that’s racist. We need to come up with a new language that doesn’t emphasize unreal differences and that are respectful to everybody.”

Lorene Oikawa, president of the National Association of Japanese Canadians, contended that sharing one another’s stories is an effective means to education.

“People really don’t know the stories,” she said. “For sure, there are some people who do, but they don’t know the [extent of the] harm that was done and the intergenerational trauma.”

She applied lessons of the past to current events. “In 2019, Japanese-Americans, Japanese-Canadians are horrified by some of the hateful rhetoric we’re hearing [that] could be lifted from 1942,” she said. “If people knew their history, more people would be going, ‘Wait a minute. What we did back in 1942 was wrong. Why are we saying the same things about people from [other] countries, putting people in camps, separating families, separating children from their families?’ All that stuff happened to Japanese-Americans, Japanese-Canadians and it’s being repeated today.”

She added: “We feel it’s our duty that what happened to our community must never happen to another community again.”

Clint Curle, senior advisor to the president of the Canadian Museum for Human Rights, agreed that education is pivotal.

“Is there a lesson, an experience, we can give children especially that will make them resistant to hate speech and resistant to hateful violence?” asked Curle. He compared hatred to a communicable disease.

“If this was polio, what would we do? If this was polio, we would do what we did, which is vaccinate. The way vaccinations work is you get children and you give them just enough of something close to the disease [so] that they develop an internal resistance to it, so, when they encounter the disease, there is something within them that says, no. So, when they encounter hate, they’ll know.”

With more than 1.5 million visitors to the museum since it opened five years ago, Curle said what resonates, especially with young people, is exactly what Oikawa suggested.

“The thing that seems to work best is storytelling across social boundaries,” he said.

Zena Simces, a health and social service policy consultant and a former Pacific region chair of the now-defunct Canadian Jewish Congress, conceived of the annual event with her husband, Dr. Simon Rabkin.

“We felt that we wanted to enhance an understanding of human rights in our community and to create an opportunity for dialogue on human rights issues,” Simces said. “Our aim is to select current and relevant themes each year and to invite experts and community leaders and community members to advance and generate positive action.”

Rabkin, a cardiologist, professor of medicine at the University of British Columbia and president of the medical staff at Vancouver General Hospital, added: “The dialogue this evening … is seeking to enhance our understanding and knowledge of how this increase in hate and its consequences can be addressed from legal, social media and community perspectives.”