Author: freelancer

Exploring Jamaica’s Jewish history

Congregation Sha’are Shalom in Kingston, Jamaica. (photo from Jamaica Tourist Board)

It was a muggy Friday afternoon just hours after my family and I had touched down in Jamaica for a two-week vacation, and the plan was to attend evening services at Kingston’s only synagogue, Congregation Sha’are Shalom. Too tired to argue, my kids and spouse changed clothes, we squashed six into the rental car and ventured into the city.

Though we knew the stately synagogue on Kingston’s Duke Street had been there since 1912, it still felt surprising to go inside and find eight members of the tribe leading a Shabbat service. The two-level synagogue is a magnificent piece of architecture, with a majestic, mahogany aron hakodesh filled with Torah scrolls from other Jamaican synagogues that closed or merged over the years. The ground floor is composed of sand, making this one of just five sand-floored synagogues worldwide. One story says the sand hearkens back to when Jews were worshipping in basements in Spain and Portugal, during the Inquisition, and sandy floors silenced their footsteps. Another legend says the sand is there as a reminder that we should multiply like sand on the seashore. 

Sha’are Shalom has space for at least 300 congregants, but when we arrived, there were just the eight locals and the six of us. The deep, sonorous baritone of one member, who led the service from the mahogany bimah, filled the air with a spiritual melody and, above us, ceiling fans whirred, adding a reprieve to the humid evening. From the bimah, Stephen Henriques, the spiritual leader, spoke of the dispersal of Kingston’s Jewish community over the past four decades, adding that many of today’s members are interfaith. “Still, we are here, celebrating and living our Jewishness, as we have done for centuries,” he said.

We were warmly welcomed to the service, and happily joined in a kiddush of grape juice, challah and sweet Jamaican coco bread. I tried to imagine a time when the synagogue was brimming with Jews, its walls resonating with children’s laughter, congregants’ prayers and Jewish possibilities. There were times like this, but they happened many, many years ago.

Jamaica was occupied by the Spanish from 1494 until 1655. During that time, Jews from Spain and Portugal began trickling onto the island. With the Spanish Inquisition underway, those Jews became Marranos, practising their faith in secret. In 1655, when the British occupied Jamaica, Jews were able to practise their faith without secrecy, but they weren’t completely free from discrimination. Between 1690 and 1740, a “Jew Tax” was levied and only in 1831, the year of the largest slave rebellion in the country, were Jews allowed to vote and participate fully in public life. 

photo - Jewish businessman George Stiebel (1821-1896) was Jamaica’s first Black millionaire, in 1881
Jewish businessman George Stiebel (1821-1896) was Jamaica’s first Black millionaire, in 1881. (photo by CoCoLumps / wikimedia)

Jews had been quietly involved for years before that, but they embraced this opportunity with gusto. By 1849, eight of the members of Jamaica’s House of Assembly were Jewish. George Stiebel, a Jewish businessman who made his fortune in gold mining in Venezuela, was the country’s first Black millionaire, in 1881. He built Devon House, one of the country’s flagship mansions and a national monument today. 

We continued to nibble on coco bread in the Jewish Heritage Centre adjacent to the synagogue, wishing we had more time to peruse the walls, where there is lots of historical data on Jewish contributions to the island. It was dark by the time we left, so we didn’t have time to see the memorial garden, where tombstones dating back to the 18th century have been relocated.  

A few days into our stay, we left Kingston for Ocho Rios and Montego Bay on the north coast. When the sun shone, we explored Jamaica’s beaches, relishing the feel of the warm water on our skin. When the rain came pouring down, we drove to neighbouring parishes to explore small towns.

One such drive took us to Falmouth, a small town whose poverty and neglect is loudly revealed in its deeply potholed roads and dilapidated homes and buildings. Coming, as we did, from an all-inclusive resort just 20 minutes away, the disparity between the two environments was glaring. 

But it wasn’t always this way. The Jewish cemetery in Falmouth is filled with the graves of Jewish merchants who dominated the once-flourishing trade here in the 19th century. When I announced we were making a stop at the cemetery, there was a collective groan from the back of the car. “We went to synagogue – now we have to visit dead Jews?” my son asked. As my husband valiantly navigated through potholes the size of small swimming pools, I tried to explain how a cemetery could be a fascinating place to explore history. 

Though we were probably only a stone’s throw away from the cemetery, we never made it. After one particularly large pothole, and another ahead that threatened to drown the rental car, a decision was made. “I love you, sweetheart, but I just don’t want to get stuck out here,” my husband declared.

I couldn’t blame him.

Drive around Jamaica and safety is not a feeling that comes easily. For one, the drivers overtake with such reckless disregard for life that road accidents always feel imminent. For another, the looks you get from some locals leave your Spidey sense tingling with fear. Leave the resorts and there are few warm welcomes from the community at large it seems, with the exception of those who have something to sell. Jamaica is known for its violence, with a rate of 52.9 homicides per 100,000 people, as compared to Canada’s, at 2.5.

We turned around and headed back to the resort, where staff sweep trash off the beach daily, and food and booze are readily available day and night. Moving between the pool and the ocean, it didn’t take long to relax. As the mojitos flowed, though, my mind kept returning to those tenacious Jews who arrived in Jamaica hundreds of years ago. They came with sand in their shoes and buckets of determination to pursue their religion and build success in a new land. I wondered what they’d say if they could see Jamaica today. 

Lauren Kramer, an award-winning writer and editor, lives in Richmond. 

Knishes and relationships

My kids came home asking about knishes. Did I know how to make them? Where do we buy them? I thought this was weird. I asked for more information. 

Their school resource teacher and International Baccalaureate coordinator, Ms. T, plays an important role in their lives. She does lunch time enrichment clubs, coaches sports, and her responsibilities include supporting kids with disabilities, and the IB program. When I say that I’m not sure how she does it all, one of my kids springs up out of his seat, showing how she crouches in front of a computer in one office, typing madly. Then he dashes across the kitchen to indicate her rush to the next office, to crouch at another desk. She is, simply, everywhere.

This is when I learned that Ms. T said knishes were not, in fact, everywhere. In Winnipeg, people buy these ethnic foods from synagogues who cater, a Jewish deli or bakery. Due to a strange confluence of events, two Winnipeg synagogues are under renovation currently and without their usual catering kitchens. Other sources for knishes apparently hadn’t worked out. As a result, one of our favourite teachers was bereft of knishes.

As a kid in Virginia, I experienced knishes in two ways: one involved a street cart vendor when visiting New York with family members. The other came from a frozen packet from a far away kosher grocery store in Maryland. I’d never made one at home. I’d never considered it. It wasn’t eaten frequently in my house. Winnipeggers eat them more often. Of course, since moving here, I have, too, but I don’t miss them when they aren’t around.

I was thinking about our relationships with knishes, teachers and community recently, when I took a class from My Jewish Learning on the Hadran prayer, taught by Rabbi Elliot Goldberg. What’s that? Funny you should ask. When a person finishes studying a tractate of Talmud, they recite this prayer. I’d never heard of it until I started studying Talmud daily. When we got to the end of the first tractate, I learned that, when one finishes this kind of thing, there is a siyyum, a celebration of one’s completion of study. I’d never heard of a siyyum as a kid at a Reform congregation. When I first attended one as an undergraduate, it seemed like something that I would never be involved in. I remember an awkward party at the Jewish Living Centre with stale cookies, juice and cheers about the gawky guy with glasses who had finished studying … I’m not sure what. In a siyyum, there’s food, there’s a public teaching of something you’ve learned, and the community cheers you on. 

With the start of the pandemic, my own siyyum events have been online, usually through My Jewish Learning. There’s no food on Zoom, so that aspect of the celebration is muted, as is the cheering and crowd. Nonetheless, I have grown to love these events. It’s an hour that I pull out of my day at random, whenever it’s held online, and even during remote school or summer break or whatever, it’s “Mom’s siyyum time.” I’m learning with rabbis online via an iPad, even while making peanut butter sandwiches for lunch or hiding from the whole household to concentrate. It’s cerebral. It’s a shared learning community. It’s oddly emotional.

The first time I heard the Hadran prayer read, I cried. I found myself wondering what was wrong with me, but this class spelled out why it feels meaningful. The Hadran is usually said after studying a seder (order) of Mishnah or a tractate of the Babylonian Talmud, but sometimes it is said at a rabbinical school graduation, a Jewish high school graduation. It’s an acknowledgement. It starts with, “We will return to you, Tractate X (whatever tractate you’re studying), and you will return to us; our mind is on you, Tractate X, and your mind is on us; we will not forget you, Tractate X, and you will not forget us – not in this world and not in the next world.” The prayer goes on to talk about the blessing and value of studying Torah, and the hope that our descendants will have the same opportunities. It’s well worth a read. (Look up “Hadran” on sefaria.org.)

The entire text creates emotional ties and intellectual relationships. I’m connected to the mysterious 10 rabbis from long ago and to unknown great-grandchildren in this text. I’m connected to a cycle of learning and a return to sacred study. I’m grateful for the opportunity, and mindful that it takes work to study, even if it’s a holy endeavour. It’s a prayer that acknowledges that readers have relationships with texts, which mimics what I learned in graduate school about some literary theory, too. That long-ago English professor taught that, when we read novels or newspapers, our life experience, reading skills and emotions bring half of the meaning to the words in front of us. We’re in relationship with texts, just like we’re in relationships with our teachers and communities.

We had an afterschool Reach for the Top trivia tournament to attend with Ms. T. I knew what to do. I figured it out in advance. I made potato knishes. As we hopped out of our car, my twins recognized Ms. T’s bright blue Jeep. They rushed towards her, with carry-out containers full of potato knishes.

I joked, saying, “Who makes knishes?! They come from a cart in New York City!” With a sombre smile, she said, “My baba.” Her grandmother used to make her knishes. Oh. I gave a flip response, saying, “OK! I’ll be your baba now.” She put the knishes in the car and we went off to the three-hour tournament. Ms. T rushed out later. That night, she sent me an email of thanks, saying it made a delicious snack when she headed to her next meeting. 

We’re in a cycle of relationships in life, with lots of connections. A siyyum is an opportunity for us to celebrate and acknowledge hard work with a closure ritual. The Hadran tells us that “we will return” to a beloved text or, perhaps, to a beloved teacher.

The trivia tournament might not be Talmud. The knishes aren’t always round, or even necessarily knishes, but the connections between text, teachers, generations of learning, eating and love are real and they’re part of making Jewish meaning, too. A siyyum’s ritual of completion is always linked to food and a sense that we’re part of a bigger family and cycle of life. We return to you – whether it’s a knish made with love or a tractate of Talmud. 

Joanne Seiff has written regularly for the Winnipeg Free Press and various Jewish publications. She is the author of three books, including From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016, a collection of essays available for digital download or as a paperback from Amazon. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.

Sparks of joy found in downsizing

The City of Vancouver’s Broadway Plan includes different ideas for different areas. This image shows the general intention for Broadway’s shoulder areas. (image from vancouver.ca)

Assuming you haven’t been hiding under a rock for the past many years, you’re probably familiar with Marie Kondo. For those of you boulder-hiders, she’s the author of The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing. I think she’s also the genius who coined the term “spark joy.” As in: “If it doesn’t spark joy, get rid of it.” While I’d bet the farm that this thought has crossed the mind of many a wife over countless years of marriage, I believe what Kondo is referring to is the stuff that clutters our home. And, by “stuff,” I don’t mean husbands. Although, if the shoe fits….

Speaking of clutter, my husband and I recently got a shock. The apartment building I’ve been living in for the past 37 years (and Harvey’s home for the past 18 years) is on the chopping block, thanks to the City of Vancouver’s Broadway Plan. The city has ever so kindly put up a huge sign on the front lawn of our building with the jazzy-looking redevelopment plan. What is currently a quaint three-storey apartment from the 1970s is soon to become two high-rise towers (19 and 20 floors, respectively) with retail below.

This whole situation is not sparking a lot of joy. If I’m being completely honest, it’s pretty much just sparking a whack load of anxiety. Currently, we are paying the lowest rent on the planet for a large two-bedroom apartment. We will soon be faced with finding a similar-sized apartment that will easily rent for two to three times as much. Did I mention that we’re both retired? This is no pity-party; it’s just a reality that is sparking the opposite of joy.

On the topic of sparking joy, though, I am now in the process of downsizing, in preparation for having to move. Frankly, I’m surprised by the dearth of joy that is sparked as I go through 37 years’ worth of stuff. Like many of my contemporaries, I was gifted loads of my parents’ old possessions when they downsized from a house to a condo to an apartment. I’m now realizing how popular teak was in the 1960s. And, surprise of surprises, it’s making a comeback. Which brings me to Facebook Marketplace, where I am divesting myself of myriad useless possessions. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure, and all that. Turns out, my trash is pretty lucrative.

What I’m learning through this experience is that there’s very little that sparks joy for me anymore. Let me clarify. My family and friends spark a great deal of joy. My community sparks a lot of joy. But does my mom’s 1958 aluminum roasting pan spark joy? Hard no. Likewise, their teak serving tray that once did yeoman’s service at cocktail parties. No joy there. However, the Gen Zs around town think it’s a new invention and are willing to pay top dollar for it. As witnessed by the bidding war it sparked on Marketplace when I listed it. I’m continually amazed by what people will buy: used barbells, wooden boxes, old clothes, eight-year-old computer keyboards and cordless mice, and on and on. I even sold the toilet riser I bought after I had knee replacement surgery last year. (All cleaned, of course.) To date, I have sold enough stuff to buy a brand-new high-end kitchen appliance. But not enough to buy a designer puppy. Or a Honda CR-V. But still.

In the process, I have acquired a new-found appreciation for simplicity and minimalism. Decluttering has become my BFF. Never thought I’d say those words. A true dyed-in-the-wool packrat, this whole experience has been eye-opening. And, believe me when I tell you that my decluttering is sparking a tremendous batch of joy for my husband Harvey, who likes things tidy. There are areas of our apartment he’s never even seen before. “We have a walk-in closet?”

As I throw myself body and soul into my new mission, I realize it’s taking a toll on my balabustaness. I’m so focused on getting rid of things that I sometimes lose track of time. “Oops, it’s dinnertime already? Guess we’ll just have to order in.” I have (in my head) committed to homemade meals at least five days a week. The other two days are catch as catch can. Read: tuna melts, scrambled eggs or takeout. OK, read: takeout. We’re supposed to be supporting the economy, right?

On the topic of balabustaness and cooking, did I mention that, due to health challenges, my husband has to be on a strict low-salt diet? And he also has to avoid high-potassium foods. Which makes being the Accidental Balabusta way less accidental. I’m practically the Intentional Balabusta now. But, oh, how I love a challenge. Think DASH diet, blah, blah, blah. Which is exactly how low-salt or no-salt food tastes. Blah, blah, blah. Consequently, I’ve enlisted countless heads of garlic, jars of spices and armloads of herbs. Onions would solve multitudinous culinary conundrums, except that onions and I are not on speaking terms. 

As I scour the internet for low-salt recipes that don’t taste like sawdust, I am truly underwhelmed. Surely, we’re not the only family who is sodium-challenged yet appreciates flavourful food. Maybe we are. If anybody out there in Balabustaland has some delicious low-sodium recipes, please feel free to share with me.

On another health-related note, my husband recently had prostate surgery, and I’ve been given to understand that high-protein foods promote healing. Thing is, his appetite has diminished quite a bit since his surgery. He’s asking for light comfort foods, like eggs and soup. When I inquired what kind of soup he fancied the day he got out of hospital, my humorous hubby replied: “Leek.” I chose not to dwell on that unfortunate pun. He may have had his prostate removed, but he certainly hasn’t had a humour bypass. I settled on chicken soup. 

But, like Harvey said, there’s a lot of humour in this whole prostate situation, if you ignore the pain. For instance, at Harvey’s first post-op visit to our GP, the doctor asked how Harvey’s was doing. To which Harvey replied: “Depends.”

Stay tuned for more on decluttering, salt-free cooking and, well, probably leakage. To those of you who have a urologist on speed dial, urine good hands.

I’ll see myself out. 

Shelley Civkin, aka the Accidental Balabusta, is a happily retired librarian and communications officer. For 17 years, she wrote a weekly book review column for the Richmond Review. She’s currently a freelance writer and volunteer.

Selina Robinson’s resignation letter to the BC NDP caucus: You broke my heart…. Silence is not leadership – it’s cowardice.

My colleagues,

You broke my heart – not just on February 5 when the Premier told me that after the caucus talked about me he did not see a way back, that folks were wondering why I hadn’t already resigned and that the only path forward was a resignation. Resigning was not my choice but I told the Premier that if this was what he wanted and what caucus wanted I wouldn’t fight him on it – but let’s be clear – others asked for my resignation, so I gave it.

You actually broke my heart in the days after October 7 – the day terrorists went into Israel and brutally murdered, slaughtered, raped, mutilated, killed and kidnapped 1,200 civilians. These terrorists didn’t target the military, they killed children, concert goers, grandmothers, peace activists and a young British Columbian named Ben Mizrachi.

The Jewish community was in shock – we are about 40,000 here in British Columbia and we were reeling.

I had offered to the Premier that as a member of the Jewish community, I could speak at a vigil that was being planned a few days after the massacre – this was my community and our two Premiers had tasked me with strengthening the NDP relationship with the community. I put out the call for you to join me. The community was grieving, in mourning and we needed to show them as a caucus and as a government that we are there for them.

 I sent out a group email. Two maybe three responded – that’s it. How is it that with more than 35 lower mainland/valley MLAs only three or four would be on stage with me – I had no idea how many UCP would be there and a poor showing would not reflect well on us. I did not have the emotional capacity to reach out individually, so Alissa offered to help … still not much response. My heart cracked.

In the end there were 7 or 8 of us, two came from the island but I was terribly embarrassed.

And then, within days of the massacre, Aman and Katrina decided that it was appropriate to ‘reply all’ to my initial email asking folks to stand with the Jewish community in grief and mourning, and ask that government make a public statement about the plight of the Palestinians.

We just witnessed the slaughter, rape, mutilation and murder of 1,200 mostly Jews. We watched as the terrorists celebrated this horrific act. Ben Mizrachi hadn’t yet been buried. The IDF hadn’t yet taken any action. The world was stunned. And two of my colleagues wanted to move quickly past what had happened and refocus government on a geopolitical conflict that has been going on for years.

But it wasn’t their antisemitism that broke my heart. It was your silence to their antisemitism that hurt the most. Not a single one of you responded to their insensitive, disrespectful and inappropriate email. No one.

Your silence broke my heart that day.

You abandoned me and my community that day.

I would have hoped that someone, anyone would have replied all to Aman and Katrina and suggested that their email was inappropriate – your silence spoke volumes to me and suggested that either you agreed with them or that you just didn’t want to deal with it because it’s messy.

It is messy. It’s complex. It’s emotional. It’s hard. You just want it to go away. I understand. I want it to go away too – but my community needed you in that moment to be there in their grief and in my grief and none of you were prepared or willing to stand up to colleagues who were antisemitic – minimizing the Jewish experience, the slaughter of innocent civilians by terrorists countering with mirrored message about the plight of Palestinians. In that moment it was not so complex – People were murdered because they were Jewish and people here in British Columbia were needing us to mourn with them.

How eager you all are to join in the #NeverAgain campaign – that the crime of being Jewish that resulted in the death of six million Jews at the hands of the Nazis should never happen again.  That we should fight against Jew hatred – a hatred that repeats itself over and over and over again throughout history. How eager you all are to join the few remaining Holocaust survivors as Nicholas plays Kol Nidre on the cello and we bow our heads, light candles in honour of those murdered – yet when the hordes gather and chant “from the river to the sea” – a Hamas mantra referring to their desire to destroy Israel and the Jews, you are nowhere to be found.

Holocaust survivors have been retraumatized and some have wound up in hospital in the days and weeks after the massacre as they relive the horrors they experienced some 75 years ago. They see the marches, the chanting in our streets, the threats to Jews around the world and they say “it’s happening again.”

Where are you when protesters, their faces covered, march through our campuses intimidating young Jewish adults who now hide their Jewish identity? Where are you when young Jewish students who get trapped in bathrooms on campus because the marching is happening in hallways, and they are afraid to step out into the hall for fear of becoming a target of their hate? Where are your ideals of a broad, inclusive society? How have you been standing up for your declared values?

Almost 300 Jewish physicians signed a letter calling on UBC medical school to address antisemitism on campus. Students are bringing their hate into healthcare and they were speaking on behalf of their Jewish patients and their families. In fact, it was so bad that Ted Rosenberg, a prominent physician quit, citing a toxic work environment and antisemitism in the Faculty of Medicine – I am not sure how we expect to train more physicians when almost 300 of them are refusing to work with students coming from UBC’s faculty of medicine. It was a public leaving and I heard nothing from any of you – not the Minister of Health who committed to more physicians in the system, not the Premier – no one.

In December the four Tri-Cities MLAs received a letter from the Coquitlam Teacher’s Association rife with rhetoric, misinformation and lies about the modern state of Israel. The letter was also posted on their website (which has since been taken down). Jewish parents in SD 43 are now considering pulling their children from public schools because they don’t have faith that teachers in the district will keep their Jewish children safe. I asked Fin if he received the same letter. He did and when I asked him what he was planning to do with it he said, “nothing – I am going to ignore it.” Ignore the fact that Jewish constituents feel unsafe – Is this how we stand up for our constituents?

In January the Vancouver Police Department publicly shared a startling report about the dramatic increase in antisemitic incidents since October 7. And what was government’s response to this report?

Silence.

Shortly afterward I reached out to the Attorney General, as the racism file is under her ministry. Niki had been assigned the point of contact for the Jewish community given the historical antisemitism that the Jewish community has experienced from Mable, the parliamentary secretary for antiracism.

Let me refresh your memory, in 2004 during an interview with Seven Oaks, Mable claimed “we have vocal Zionists in our work sites, and we have had to battle them” regarding her anti-war activism in her union. Carole James, as leader, had to disavow and apologize for the comments. But the Jewish community carried on noting a certain mistrust of Mable, as she never apologized for her comments and when Mable’s recent 2-minute statement in November alarmed the community again of Mable’s antisemitism and asked for her resignation the Jewish community was merely told that Niki would now be the point of contact for anti-racism work in the Jewish community.

So I reached out to Niki at the end of January, two months after she became the designated point of contact for a community that is experiencing a spike in antisemitism, a community that is grieving and fearful. It turns out that the community leadership hadn’t even heard from her. And when I asked her what she is doing about the rise in antisemitism all she could talk about what legislation she is working on, collecting data and the small amount of money that I worked on with PSSG and the PO to make available for additional security measures that the community needed.

Her response to my query was a response you would give the opposition.

There was no acknowledgement of my personal connection to the community or how my contacts and relationships could be useful. There was no sense of understanding that this community is feeling threatened, that people are afraid, that antisemitism was on display in civil society, that Jewish parents don’t want to send their children to public school, that Jewish post-secondary students are being terrorized on campus, that Jewish owned businesses need additional security, that Holocaust survivors are reliving trauma, that plays with Israeli content that actually help to provide dialogue about the conflict are being silenced, that hundreds of Jewish physicians are calling on UBC leadership to address antisemitism on campus, that members of our own public service have started incorporating the Palestinian flag in their email signature and even making a Palestinian land comment when doing a First Nation land acknowledgement at the beginning of meetings resulting in discomfort and fear. No acknowledgment and no action.

Over the past five months a few of you have reached out after caucus discussions about me without me in the room, the first right after Aman and Katrina sent their emails and then again after the February caucus meeting, offering hugs and heart emojis. My response to many of you is that I don’t need your hugs and your emojis. What my community needs however is for you to stand up to antisemitism. When I shared this with Lisa just a few weeks ago, she responded “of course, we always do.” As a government we have not been standing up to antisemitism. If you believe that then it would appear to me that you haven’t been paying attention or you don’t know what antisemitism is or what Jew hatred looks like.

Antisemitism is calling for the destruction and annihilation of Israel, where half the world’s 15.8 million Jews live. Antisemitism is making Jewish people afraid to show their identity. Antisemitism is silencing an openly identified Jewish person who is speaking out about antisemitism. Your collective decision to silence me is antisemitism and you don’t even know it.

Antisemitism is the double standard that we have consistently shown. When any of my colleagues have made antisemitic remarks it was expected that apologies should suffice. It’s not only Mable who has made antisemitic comments. In 2012 Jennifer Whiteside shared content from the anti-Israel website the electronic intifada and posts from Occupy Wall Street that attributed Israeli ‘theft’ of Palestinian land to capitalism and in 2014 shared articles that accused Israel of ‘pinkwashing’ for their acceptance of LGBTQ2S+ community and again in 2016 shared content promoting the BDS movement and was forced to apologize and distance herself from her past support of the BDS movement.

In 2017 it came to the attention of the Jewish community that Ronna Rae invited people to support Haneen Zoubi, a former Palestinian member of the Israeli Knesset who negated the existence of Israel. Ronna Rae also compared the police to Nazis in 2013.

Jagrup quoted Goebbels in 2020 when he was pushing back at the Official Opposition during a speech in the house saying “Someone has said – if you repeat a lie often enough people will believe it” – he apologized the next day for his offence, retracted his comments and that was to be sufficient.

Last year Janet Routledge apologized for comments of Holocaust minimization by comparing the criticisms by the official opposition to Nazi rhetoric when she said “the Holocaust ended in death camps, but started with words.”

I raise these examples not to humiliate or shame any of you, but to point out the double standard. When an elected person says something that harms the Jewish community whether the comments or position is intended or unintended, the expectation is that a simple apology is sufficient. But when a Jewish elected person says something she “has deep work to do” according to the Premier and is no longer trusted. This double standard is antisemitism.

The final straw came for me last week.

I pitched an idea to the Premier 10 days after I was asked to resign that perhaps government could show leadership on this hate and division we are seeing in two hurting communities by bringing these communities together. I suggested that perhaps I could work with the Jewish community and engage with the Arab Muslim community to facilitate dialogue – find a different path for two communities in agony. As part of that work all of caucus could participate in anti-Islamophobia and antisemitism training – set an example of how as leaders we could better understand their respective pain and fear. And government could show leadership by bringing people together.

Last week Matt Smith told me that this work was ‘too political’ and that government was not interested at this time. Antisemitism and anti-Muslim sentiment are at an all-time high and government doesn’t see itself as having a role in helping these communities.

This shattered what was left of my broken heart.

This is not the party I signed on with – it has become a party that is afraid to stand with people, people who are hurting. It is now a party that puts politics and re-election before people.

It is with all of this in mind that I am leaving caucus to sit as an independent. I can no longer defend the choices this government is making, and I need to mend my broken heart and I can’t do that when you simply offer me hugs and heart emojis but don’t care to educate yourselves or understand the fear and anguish of being Jewish in this moment.

Silence is not leadership – it’s cowardice.

And I cannot be silent.

הקלות לישראלים בהגירה לקנדה

קנדה מקילה באופן זמני על ישראלים המעוניינים להגר למדינה. זאת עקב מלחמת חרבות הברזל הארוכה המתנהלת כבר למעלה מארבעה חודשים בין ישראל לחמאס. המסלול הזמני והחדש יתקיים בשלב זה למשך כארבעה חודשים – עד לסוף חודש יוני

על פיו יוכלו ישראלים המעוניינים בכך לקבל ויזת עבודה בקנדה במשך שלוש שנים. מדובר בויזה פתוחה שתוכל לסייע בהמשך הדרך לקבלת אישור תושבות קבוע. ולאחר מכן אף לקבל אזרחות קנדית לכל דבר. מסלול זה שנפתח עתה עבור ישראלים כאמור בעקבות המלחמה, שימש בעבר כסיוע הומניטרי עבור אוקראינים ואוכלוסיית היזידים שנרדפת על ידי דאעש וכן גורמים איסלאמיים קיצונים

הקלות עבור ישראלים המעוניינים להגר לקנדה ניתנות עבור אלה שהם בעלי אשרת תייר המבקרים כאן (ללא קשר למועד הגעתם לקנדה). וכן לאלה שהם קרובי משפחה של אזרחים קנדיים, או אלה שמחזיקים בתעודות של תושבות קבע

עד תחילת מלחמת חרבות הברזל הקריטריונים להגירה לקנדה הקלו בעיקר על בעלי מקצועות מבוקשים וכן על בעלי השכלה גבוהה (בעלי תארים מתקדמים). אך בתנאי שכל אלה הם מתחת לגיל שלושים. וזאת, על פי שיטת הנקודות. מדי מספר חודשים משנה קנדה את גובה רף הניקוד אשר ממנו כל הבקשות מתקבלות

מסלולי ההגירה בקנדה מחולקים על פי הפרובינציות השונות. על פי השיטה על המבקש להגר לכאן מוטל להציג מספיק נקודות שנקבעות לפי מספר קריטריונים. ובהם: מקצוע, גיל ורמת האנגלית. מי מבקשים להגר לקנדה שהציג מספיק נקודות, יכול להגיש בקשה לתושבות קבע, לאחר מספר שנים לעבור מבחן (באזרחות) ואז להפוך לאזרח קבוע. כידוע אזרחים יכולים לבקש דרכון קנדי, נחשב לאחד הדרכונים המבוקשים ביותר בעולם במשך שנים

את הגשת המועמדות להגירה ניתן להגיש באופן עצמאי או להשתמש ביועצי הגירה המומחים לנושא, שיעזרו במילוי הטפסים הרבים. את הטפסים לבקשות הגירה ניתן להגיש מישראל, או מקנדה למי שנמצא כאן על פי ויזת עבודה או אלה שלומדים כאן

זמן ההמתנה לקבלת האישורים להגירה יכול להימשך כשנה ואף יותר מכך, בהתאם לרמת הנקודות של המבקש

באופן כללי מסלולי הגירה לקנדה נחלקים בגדול למסלולים זמנים ומסלולים לתושבות קבע. וזאת על פי קריטריונים שונים ובהם: הגירה לצעירים ומשכילים, הגירה על פי תוכניות של הפרובינציות השונות, מקצועות מבוקשים, הגירה לצורכי לימודים. וכן מסלולים למשקיעים פיננסים, קרובים מדרגה ראשונה ועוד

ניתן לקבל אשרות שהייה זמניות לצרכי לימודים גבוהים או עבודה. אם מעסיק קנדי מציע למועמד הצעת עבודה שעומדת בתנאים של משרד העבודה הקנדי, אפשר לקבל אשרת עבודה למשך מספר שנים. בדרך כלל אשרת עבודה מתקבלת מהר וניתן להאריכה בסך הכל עד שבע שנים. כמובן אם המשרה של העובד עדיין בתוקף. לאלה שעובדים בקנדה, העבודה תקנה להם נקודות כך שבתוך שנתיים הם יוכלו להגיש מועמדות של תושבות קבע במסלול המהיר. מי שקיבל שהתקבל ללימודים במוסד להשכלה גבוהה בקנדה (אוניברסיטהי או קולג’) למשך חצי שנה או יותר, יוכל לקבל ויזת לימודים. בתום סיום הלימודים המועמד יהיה זכאי לקבל ויזת עבודה בקנדה, למשך של שלוש שנים. זאת תלוי במסלול הלימודים ובאישור שהתקבל על ידי מוסד הלימודים. יש לזכור שעל מוסד הלימודים להיות מאושר על ידי מערכת ההגירה של קנדה. הלימודים או העבודה לאחריהם יכולים להקנות מספקי נקודות כדי להגיש מועמדות לקבלת תושבות קבע, במסלול המהיר

לפרובינציות השונות יש מסלולים מקוצרים ומהירים לקבלת תושבות קבע

קנדה: תיירות כשרה – מידע למטייל היהודי

וונקובר
צילום Henry C Wong

אתר טוטל ג’ואיש טרבל שמיועד למטיילים יהודים שומרי מסורת האוכלים אוכל כשר, מפרסם מידע אודות קנדה

בחלק הראשון מתפרסם מידע כללי על קנדה

קנדה היא מדינה בחלקה הצפונית של צפון אמריקה, היא המדינה השנייה בעולם בגודל בשטח ואוכלוסייתה מונה קרוב לארבעים מיליון איש. קנדה מחולקת לעשר פרובינציות ושלוש וטריטוריות. המדינה היא מונרכיה חוקתית ודמוקרטיה פרלמנטרית. לקנדה גבול בודד עם ארצות הברית ומדובר על הגבול היבשתי הארוך בעולם, באורך של קרוב לתשעת אלפי קילומטרים. עיר הבירה של קנדה היא אוטווה בה נמצא הפרלמנט ומקום מושבה של הממשלה הפדרלית וכן של המושל הכללי, שמייצג את ראש המדינה – המלך של אנגליה. קנדה היא מושבה בריטית לשעבר והיא המדינה הגדולה ביותר בחבר העמים הבריטי. ברוב המדינה יש מזג אוויר קר בחורף, ובכלל מזג אוויר קר מאפיין את המדינה, אולם באזור דרום המדינה חם בקיץ. קנדה מאוכלסת בדלילות, רוב השטח הכפרי מיוער ובמדינה ישנם גם את הרי הרוקי. רוב תושבי המדינה גרים בערים גדולות ובינוניות, למעשה מדובר במדינה עירונית מאוד כאשר כשמונים ושניים אחוזים מהתושבים מתגוררים בערים. שליש מהאוכלוסייה חי בשלוש הערים הגדולות: טורונטו, מונטריאול, וונקובר. קרוב לשלושים מיליון תיירים מבקרים בקנדה מדי שנה. סיבות ההגעה שלהם למדינה מגוונות. ספורט החורף במדינה מפותח מאוד ומביא תיירות רבה למדינה, בקנדה יש גם הרבה פסטיבלים בחורף ובקיץ המושכים אליהם תיירים רבים מכל רחבי העולם

בחלק השני מתפרסם מידע על היהודים בקנדה

בקנדה גרים כארבע מאות ועשרים אלף יהודים שמהווים קצת יותר מאחוז מתושבי המדינה. מוצאם של רוב יהודי קנדה הוא אשכנזי אולם במדינה חיים גם יהודים ממוצא ספרדי, מזרחי ומגוירים. בקנדה ישנם מוסדות תרבות יהודיים רבים המשרתים את הקהילות הרבות במדינה על זרמיהם השונים. למרות היותם מיעוט קטן במדינה, נוכחות יהודי קנדה במדינה מתקיימת כבר מאז סיום מלחמת שבע השנים. רוב אוכלוסיית היהודים במדינה מתגוררת בערים הגדולות. בטורונטו ובמונטריאול חיות הקהילות היהודיות הגדולות במדינה, כאשר בטורונטו חיים כמאתיים וחמישים אלף יהודים ובמונטריאול למעלה ממאה אלף יהודים. אלו גם הערים בהן ניתן למצוא מסעדות כשרות וחנויות לממכר אוכל כשר. קהילות יהודיות חיות גם בערים אחרות אך אוכלוסייתן קטנה יותר, וגם הסיכוי למצוא בהם אוכל כשר קטן ונעשה קשה יותר לאיתור, אולם עדיין גם מחוץ לערים אלו ישנן מסעדות וחנויות כשרות גם מחוץ לטורונטו ומונטריאול

בחלק השלישי מתפרסם מידע על ונקובר

המדריך המלא למטיילים יהודים ולשומרי כשרות בוונקובר מפרסם מידע למטייל אודות מקומות כשרים (כגון מסעדות כשרות, בתי קפה, מאפיות וחנויות), וכן ומידע מגוון על מוסדות בקהילה היהודית בוונקובר או בסמוך אליה, כוללי בתי כנסת, מקוואות, בתי מלון כשרים או מוסדות המתאימים למטיילים דתיים, הקשורים לקהילה היהודית בוונקובר או לשאר חלקי בריטיש קולומביה. מוזכרים בין היתר שני ארגונים: הג’ואיש קומיונטי סנטר והכולל-אוהל יעקב. שני מקוואות: אחד בארגון של חב”ד ואחד בבית הכנסת שערי צדק. מוזכרים מספר בתי כנסת נוספים בעיר: בית המדרש, עץ חיים וטמפל שלום. ישנם גם שלושה בתי מלון בעיר המספקים אוכל כשר: הולידי אין, פארק אין-רדיסון והייקרופט סוויטס. בוונקובר יש גם מקומות שמספקים אוכל כשר: קפה ארבעים ואחד בג’ואיש קומיונטי סנטר, הקייטרינג של חב”ד, מאפיית גארדן סיטי בריצ’מונד, מסעדת מייפל גריל בקומת הקרקע של הכולל-אוהל יעקב, קפה נאווה, מאפיית סברה וחנות שהיא בעצם מחסן לאוכל כשר

Mishpacha comes together

The weekly rally for Israeli hostages at the Vancouver Art Gallery Sunday, Feb. 18. (photo by Pat Johnson)

Family was the theme at the weekly rally for Israeli hostages at the Vancouver Art Gallery Sunday, Feb. 18, the day before British Columbians marked the Family Day holiday. Speakers took to a stage at the edge of the gallery’s north face out of respect for a makeshift memorial to Alexei Navalny, the Russian opposition leader who died in custody two days earlier.

“Family Day will be celebrated here tomorrow,” said Daphna Kedem, organizer of the weekly vigils for the hostages. “But this year casts a heavy shadow over the day for some families of our community here and in Israel…. It is difficult to be happy when families are waiting to be reunited with their loved ones, or for many families who have lost their loved ones.”

Dr. Michael Elterman, a psychologist, spoke of the psychological effects of what is happening in Israel and worldwide.

“We see the indescribable anguish in the families and we easily feel ourselves in their shoes and intuitively imagine what we might feel if that happened to us,” he said. “There has developed a related construct of post-traumatic stress disorder over the past decade … this is the sadness, anger and sometimes spiritual distress that arises from moral outrage. It is a broader set of reactions that arise even when the individual themselves were not present at the trauma but rather are morally outraged and left furious and depressed by events. This is even more likely where we identify so strongly with those who are personally impacted by Oct. 7.”

This anxiety is heightened by increases in antisemitic rhetoric and attacks, including in Vancouver. 

“Some of you may be experiencing the symptoms of post-traumatic stress, such as disturbed sleep, intrusive thoughts, trouble concentrating and being easily startled,” Elterman said, adding that help is available through Jewish Family Services and other resources. Getting involved in the community response can help ease feelings of helplessness and he directed people to the Community Toolkit on the website of the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver. 

“Remember to practise self-care in small ways, like proper nutrition and sleep,” he said. “Continue to do the things you previously enjoyed, even if you don’t feel like doing them. Finally, hug each other a little longer and a little tighter.”

Aviya Kones, who works at Jewish Family Services, spoke not about the services offered by that organization, but about the people of Kfar Aza, where she grew up.

photo - Aviya Kones speaks about the people of Kfar Aza, where she grew up
Aviya Kones speaks about the people of Kfar Aza, where she grew up. (photo by Pat Johnson)

“Kfar Aza was a desert oasis,” said Kones. “It was home, it was love and life, it was filled with unique and quirky and hilarious traditions and it was generations of family. It was also savagely and brutally destroyed after countless and seemingly endless hours of horrors.”

Her own childhood home was destroyed on Oct. 7.

She shared memories of three people who died that day.

“Smadar, a year above me, was tall, slender, so elegant,” she said. “Even as a child, I recall looking up to her. She had big, beautiful brown eyes and thick brown hair. I remember being awed by her grace, kindness and gentle nature.

“Nadav was two years older than me,” she said. “He knew how to make everyone laugh in every situation – not at anyone’s expense but maybe his own.

“Yoav was my age group,” she continued. “He had blue eyes, blond hair and a genuine smile. All the girls thought he was cute and all the guys wanted to be his best friend. He was shy, kind, creative and athletic. He loved his family. He was so close with his parents, his siblings and the many, many cousins he had living on the kibbutz.

“All three, amongst many others, tragically, brutally and with unimaginable cruelty, lost their lives on Oct. 7,” said Kones. “They were living in our beautiful oasis, our safe place, our home. They are survived by a broken and mourning community, generations of family that absolutely adored them and … all three were also survived by their young children. Nadav had two daughters, Smadar had three children and Yoav was a first-time dad to a little girl who was only 10 days old on Oct. 7.”

Rabbi Jonathan Infeld, senior rabbi at Congregation Beth Israel and head of the Rabbinical Association of Vancouver, said that Oct. 7 was not just an attack on Israelis or those living in Israel.

“It was indeed the beginning of an attack on the entire Jewish people,” he said. “It was a catalyst for antisemitism across the world that we have felt even here in Vancouver…. Too many of us have felt the antisemitism that began to boil over on that day.”

Gordon Shank, a First Nations member, a business innovator and a survivor of the Sixties Scoop, which saw Indigenous children abducted from their families and placed with white families, spoke of the centrality of family and the trauma of separation. 

“I’ve known the pain of separation from family, being torn from the embrace of loved ones, albeit under different circumstances,” he said. “The Sixties Scoop and the current crisis in Gaza might stem from vastly different contexts yet, at their core, they resonate with the universal cry for the right to family, to unity and to belonging. This parallel is not to equate the experiences but to underline the shared understanding that every individual deserves to grow, to dream and to thrive within the warmth of their family’s love.” 

Of the hostages and their families, Shank said: “Their pain is our pain. Their hope is our hope. Let our gathering today send a powerful message that we stand together across cultures and histories, united in our resolve to bring the hostages home.”

The march through downtown streets that has been a feature of the weekly events since October will be a monthly activity only for the coming weeks, Kedem told those gathered. The crowd then moved to the sidewalk adjacent Georgia Street for a demonstration, with a brief disruption by an individual waving a Palestinian flag.

Kedem has organized the weekly events since October and, early on, affiliated with the ad hoc international group Bring Them Home which, in turn, is affiliated with the Hostage and Missing Families Forum, in Israel. 

Recently, Kedem also associated her activities with another international group, Run for their Lives, which encourages groups as small as a single individual to demonstrate solidarity with Israel and its hostages by walking, biking or running. 

Drama & more at film fest

Yoav Brill’s documentary Apples and Oranges, about a moment in the history of the kibbutz movement, is mesmerizing. (photo by Avraham Eilat)

The 2024 Vancouver Jewish Film Festival takes place in person April 4-14 and online April 15-19. As usual, a diversity of offerings is included in this year’s festival and the Independent will review several films in this and upcoming issues. The Vancouver Jewish Film Centre also sponsors events throughout the year and some screenings take place before the annual festival begins. Full festival details will be online at vjff.org as April approaches.

Idealism remembered

Amid the euphoric aftermath of the 1967 war and the enduring popularity of the 1958 Leon Uris book Exodus (and its 1960 film incarnation), thousands of Jews and non-Jews descended on Israel to volunteer on kibbutzim.

They came to experience and emulate “the embodiment of man’s highest ideals – the kibbutznik,” as an apparently promotional film clip declares in Yoav Brill’s mesmerizing documentary Apples and Oranges. In just one particular spurt, 7,000 volunteers arrived in Israel en masse from around the world.

Through the recollections of aging Scandinavians, Brits, South Africans and others, and with nostalgia-inducing archival footage, the documentary shines a light on the socialist idealism and hippie adventurism that motivated these people to travel to the farming communities of rural Israel. Many returned, to Sweden, Denmark, wherever, and formed associations to support the kibbutzim and drum up more volunteers. So successful were they that the supply exceeded the demand. One group chartered a jumbo jet to go from Stockholm to Tel Aviv but the Israelis had to admit they had no use for 340 volunteers.

Generally, the spirit of the overseas visitors was welcomed, though the social impacts were not negligible. The temporary nature of their visits was disrupting. A middle-aged man reflects on his perspective as a kid on a kibbutz, welcoming all the strangers who became like big brothers and sisters, only to have his heart broken every time the groups departed from what he calls “the kibbutz fantasy.”

Strangers from another world – blond, exotic, sophisticated and drinking milk with their meals – descended on a cloistered society where all the teens had been together since kindergarten, introducing predictable social and hormonal disruptions. For their parts, many of the volunteers soon discovered they had no aptitude for the tasks to which they were set, although at least one Brit made use of his talents performing Shakespeare for an audience of cattle.

Many of the overseas youngsters were unabashedly out for sex, drugs and rock ’n’ roll. As one woman interviewed in the documentary says, “If there weren’t female volunteers at [Kibbutz] Mishmar HaSharon, many of our boys would still be virgins.”

In one incident that apparently caused national outrage, a group distributed hashish-laden brownies to an entire community, including at least one 8-year-old child, a crime that is not the least bit funny – but, of course, is hilarious when recounted by octogenarians who experienced it. 

With their Cat Stevens and Bob Dylan LPs, the foreigners brought a little bit of Woodstock with them, and took away some Israeli dance routines. But the adventure, as the viewer knows more than do the figures in the old footage, would not end well. Terrorism, including a highly publicized attack in which a volunteer was murdered, would strangle the flow of future volunteers.

The documentary is a masterpiece of the genre, capturing the joy and exuberance of the experience for both Israelis and the visitors, but addressing the serious problems the interactions raised. The clash of cultures introduced existential issues, including around conversion, mixed marriages, secularization and, of course, the collapse of the traditional kibbutz. 

The apples and oranges of the title, we are to understand, are the people who came together on the kibbutzim, as much as the produce they harvested.

Critics of the volunteer phenomenon seem to place some of the blame for the collapse of the kibbutz system on the labour underclass they represented, which undermined the egalitarian foundations of the movement.

The kibbutz network has largely petered out, almost entirely in spirit if not completely in form, and some of the Jews and non-Jews who came during the heyday have remained and integrated to varying degrees in the society that Israel has become. In one instance, an aging, bearded former volunteer actualizes his idealism by leading a ukulele orchestra.

The collapse of the idealistic experiment that the end of the film documents is expected but no less depressing for that. The slice of history and the magnificence of the story, so vividly told in the film, will stay with the viewer.

Transcendence of song

photo - In Less than Kosher, the real star is the voice of Shaina Silver-Baird as Viv, an atheist turned cantor
In Less than Kosher, the real star is the voice of Shaina Silver-Baird as Viv, an atheist turned cantor. (photo from Menemsha Films)

In Less than Kosher, a number of fairly two-dimensional character sketches come together – but with a redeeming twist.

A feature film that began its life as serialized online videos has the feel of excellent amateurism. Wayward Jewish girl meets rabbi’s bad boy son. Overbearing Jewish mother, well-intentioned buffoonish rabbi, go-along-to-get-along intermarried stepdad and hyper-chatty high school friend flesh out the cast.

Sitcom-like circumstances turn the atheist young woman into unlikely cantor. But the outstanding component of the film, the real star, is the voice of Shaina Silver-Baird, the lead actor and co-producer (with Michael Goldlist) of this cute confection.

The unlikely cantor Viv, whose once-promising pop music career is on the skids, has the voice of an angel and the story is less about her family or her romance with the (married) rabbi’s son than about the transcendent power of song. When she opens her lungs, Viv ushers in a changed world – and Silver-Baird’s voice invites the viewer into it. Music video-style segments, which Viv is dismayed to have dubbed “Judeopop,” raise the film to a different level. Liturgical music goes Broadway. Amy Winehouse does “Shalom Aleichem.”

A tiki-themed shiva is truly the icing on the sheet cake. 

Mysterious case

photo - The Goldman Case is a dramatic reenactment of the case of Pierre Goldman
The Goldman Case is a dramatic reenactment of the case of Pierre Goldman. (photo from Menemsha Films)

He was guilty of much, but was he guilty of murder? Pierre Goldman maintained he was innocent of the latter charges and a based-on-a-true-story film explores not only a man’s possible guilt but the intergenerational impacts of Polish-French Jewish life in the mid-20th century and their potential explanations for some unusual behaviours.

The Goldman Case is a dramatic reenactment of a famous (in France, at least) case of the Jewish son of Polish resistance heroes, whose own life was impacted by an apparent need to fill the giant shoes of his parents. The son wanted to be “a Jewish warrior” and so became a communist revolutionary, traveling to Latin America, Prague and elsewhere in search of opportunities for valour. 

Charged with a series of crimes, including the murder during a holdup of two pharmacists, Goldman was convicted in 1974 and sentenced to life imprisonment, though he maintained he was innocent in the two deaths. Following the 1975 publication of his memoirs, the judicial system reconsidered his case and major French voices, including Jean-Paul Sartre, took up his cause. This film is a (massively condensed) court procedural of that retrial.

Goldman’s Jewishness was not on trial but, interestingly, his defence team built their case partly around his family’s experiences.

The case – and the film – end with a new verdict. But the dramatic story would continue. Audiences will no doubt race to Google more about Goldman and his crimes and punishments. Enduring mysteries, though, will make the search necessarily unsatisfying. This cannot be said of the film, though, which is a gripping enactment, enlivened by the extremely animated courtroom drama, which suggests the French judicial system tolerates a great deal more outbursts than we expect in Hollywood depictions of North American judicial proceedings. 

False binaries harmful

It is perhaps inevitable that, at a time of polarized thinking, many people seem incapable of holding two ideas in their minds at once.

Canadian politics has maybe not succumbed to the depths of entrenched division we see in our neighbours to the south, where Democrat-versus-Republican has taken on a tribal identification. However, almost every democratic society is experiencing intense divisions not only in opinion but in identification. That is, our identities, including political stands, are prioritized to represent core personal traits. If we identify less as, say “a Canadian who votes for the Purple Party,” but instead as “a Purple Canadian,” it can feel threatening to have a conversation with someone of different opinions.

Social media is a significant driver of this phenomenon. Not only do the algorithms embolden and reify extremism, but we are encouraged to share these extreme opinions. Inflammatory ideas that we once might have kept to ourselves are posted for all to see – and, if someone disagrees, we may perceive it as a personal attack and feel encouraged to carry out an online vendetta. In times past, we may have suspected that our neighbour or relative held ideas we disagreed with. Now, we may know what our friends and neighbours think and feel about myriad issues – and we might be motivated to take them on in a virtual slugfest over those differences.

In theory, this is a good thing – but only in theory. In a perfect world, social media gives us the opportunity to engage one another in informed, enriching dialogue. Clearly, the joke’s on us. 

In reality, social media reduces the quality of dialogue to a dismissive, insulting snapback. Moreover, the comparative anonymity of the platforms gives us licence to vent our worst impulses with few checks and balances embedded in the systems.

It is in this troubled online culture that the current war between Israel and Hamas is being addressed by Canadians.

The context is additionally challenged by recent changes to Canadian law. The federal government reasonably demanded that social media platforms pay news producers for the content shared on their platforms. In response, the platforms blocked the content rather than pay for it. A business can choose whether to retail what others are wholesaling, to use a clunky parallel. Of course, social media platforms are not just any business. It is fair to argue that they are a form of public utility and so should be governed by different standards. That, though, is a discussion for a different time. Bottom line is that Canadians are debating online over current events without the advantage of sharing professional news content, with predictable outcomes around reach and veracity.

Binary or polarized thinking plays another role. 

Antisemitism, as any reader knows, is at levels most of us have not seen in our living memories. This is not incidental to the current war but, crucially, neither is the war the cause. Antisemitism lies in wait, depending on an external spark to set it aflame. Nothing Israel does (or, for that matter, anything Hamas does) is the cause of antisemitism in Canada. We need to address domestic bigotry for what it is. The purest proof: other international disputes rarely, if ever, result in eruptions of racism in Canada … why does this one?

In response to concerns around antisemitism, we see – usually online, because that is where these sorts of “conversations” happen most visibly – many people responding predictably. If there is antisemitism in Canada, a common theme goes, blame Israel’s actions or existence. A slightly more extreme variation makes the case that, at a time when it is alleged that Palestinians are experiencing genocide or ethnic cleansing, why are we wasting time talking about (the presumably relatively inconsequential matter of) antisemitism?

At a minimum, the response to such ideas should be that two things can be true at the same time. There may be unfolding tragedies in the Middle East … but there is also racism at home that demands addressing. And, no, one cannot wait until the other is resolved. Just as we should be capable of holding two ideas at once, we must be able to condemn injustice at home and abroad. Why is this difficult?

Binary thinking implies that injustice abroad displaces injustice at home. The message many of us see on social media is, put bluntly, Canadian Jews should keep quiet about their problems, complaints or experiences while Palestinians are dying.

Something we can keep in mind when engaging online, in real time, or however we participate, is that our activism on global affairs, including those places in which we have a personal stake, is vital and necessary. But it also has very limited impacts globally. The Israeli government, Hamas and the international entities engaged in what negotiations exist are, frankly, not going to be moved much by marching Canadians or millions of memes on social media. Those who are going to be affected are our neighbours and family, who see often harmful, hateful and insensitive comments and feel bereft, anxious and alone. 

We need to keep in mind this: whatever we say about Israel-Palestine lands hardest on the ears, hearts and minds closest to us. Condemning Israelis or Palestinians (or anyone else) has minimal effect in Israel or Palestine. It causes plenty of pain right here at home.