Passover reflections: Fighting modern-day plague

Passover is a story of survival and courage. At the heart of it, over these 2,000 years, our tenacity as a people and our willingness to stand up to those who would do us harm have remained steadfast. 

One of the most widely observed Jewish holidays, Passover is a cherished opportunity for families and friends to gather and conduct the seder, a retelling of our ancestors’ story, beginning with a call from Moses to “let my people go” and concluding with the Jewish people’s freedom from slavery in Egypt.

But, this year, hundreds will mourn losses of family and friends murdered on Oct. 7. More than 100 families in Israel will have empty seats around their seder table, as their loved ones remain captive, held by Hamas terrorists in Gaza. And hundreds of thousands, from both the north and south of Israel, will celebrate our ancestors’ return from exodus away from their homes, having been displaced by the violence so heartbreakingly started on Oct. 7.

During the seder, we count the 10 plagues that G-d wrought upon the Egyptians. Today, one is confronted with the modern-day plague of antisemitism and Jew-hatred at levels never seen. The recent surge in online antisemitism continues to gain force, as misinformation, disinformation, lies and age-old conspiracies about Jews and Israel’s past and present capture the attention and play on the credulity of many around the world. 

Since Oct. 7, even more online Jew-hatred and anti-Israel vitriol has been spilling onto streets across the world, endangering Jewish lives and, among our most elderly, evoking comparisons to a pre-Second World War Europe they witnessed firsthand and prayed never to see again. 

Online hate engenders real-world threats and violence, and Canada is not immune. In some predominantly Jewish communities in Canada, there have been bomb scares in synagogues, bullets fired at Jewish schools, attacks on Jewish businesses and hateful graffiti on Jewish homes.

We have seen a wave of protests rife with violent hate speech – calls for “Free Palestine” or “From the river to the sea” – often strategically located to target Jewish neighbourhoods, schools, community centres and businesses.

On campuses nationwide, Jewish faculty, staff and students have been made to feel unsafe, insecure and even threatened.

These problems are not small. But neither are they new or insurmountable. CIJA’s mission to protect the quality of Jewish life in Canada has never been more meaningful, even crucial. Our team – across Canada and Israel – has been meeting with government officials, providing interviews and information to media, intervening with school boards and university administrations, working with local federations and grassroots Jewish community groups, and planning events and rallies, all to ensure the voice of the Jewish community is heard – to combat antisemitism, safeguard the security of the Jewish community and our institutions, educate Canadians about the important role Israel plays in Jewish life and identity, and advocate on behalf of Israel and for the return of the hostages.

We are working with government to advocate for long-overdue legislation to address online hate, demanding accountability from social media platforms, institutions and organizations. We are asking for – and receiving – grassroots help to participate in action alerts demanding change. We are using – and training community members and allies to use – social media to change the narrative, to educate, counter disinformation and inform.

Over these past months, CIJA has been involved in many battles – some lost, but many won. There have been moments of fatigue, sometimes even tears, and days when the weight of our work felt overwhelming. But we have drawn strength from the resilience of our brothers and sisters in Israel and from the courageous heart of the Jewish communities we serve in Canada.

As we recall the story of Passover at the seder table, let’s take a moment to remember both our ancestors’ journeys and our personal responsibility to ensure that, as it has for countless generations, our historic resolve to fight oppression will sustain us today. 

Judy Zelikovitz is vice-president, university and local partner services, at the Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs.

Pat Johnson’s full speech – rally for Israeli hostages March 17/24

I want to thank Daphna not just for inviting me today. But for inviting each of us here every Sunday. It’s so important.

Daphna – todah rabah.

**

I was not born into this community. Nor did I convert. I just showed up here, about 30 years ago, like a stray dog. And you took me in.

As someone coming into this community from the outside — but especially, coming from a background of progressive, left-wing activism, from the gay community, from antiracist activism, I have had the opportunity to see, to hear and to understand events from different angles.

When I showed up in Vancouver’s Jewish community, I had no idea about the depths of the familial, spiritual, emotional and personal connections between almost every Jewish person and the state and the land of Israel.

And I think this is one of the things that you probably discovered in the last five months. Most people just do not comprehend what Israel means to Jewish people.

We need to share that story. But we can only share that story if other people will listen. And that is the problem.

Because the people who need to hear it are too busy chanting to listen … or to understand.

**

Many British Columbians fail to understand why a former cabinet minister is claiming anti-Jewish bias while so many of her colleagues, who have apparently invested no effort into exploring the many forms antisemitism can take, steadfastly insist there must be some other explanation.

Israel is the national embodiment of the Jewish people. To attack Israel is to attack Jews.

Here is the bigger issue …

The people who are marching against Israel … they are not helping the people of Gaza … and they sure as hell are not making the world a better place.

The only thing they are doing is making Canada a more dangerous, toxic, intolerant country.

Hateful words against Israel are inciting violence against Jews in Canada.

And when we express concern about this undeniable correlation, we are accused of conflating anti-Zionism with antisemitism … as if that distinction makes a damn bit of difference to the victim of a hate crime.

Words of hate … lead to acts of hate. We understand this when it comes to any other group.

But when it comes to Jews … people are willing to employ the most dangerous, inflammatory and incendiary rhetoric. And let the chips fall where they may.

**

But it is not only Jews and Israelis who are under attack by these radical extremists.

It is the very essence of what it means to be Canadian. It is our core national values that these activists betray.

Day after day, we see shrieking, crazed mobs shutting down events, screaming obscenities and threatening people who are trying to live their lives, commute to work, go to the theatre, attend synagogue or get an education.

The person you should be hearing from is not me.

Selina Robinson was invited here today. But it was not safe for her to come.

What does that tell you about the state of civil discourse in Canada?

You’ve seen their rallies. You have heard their chants. Do those look to you like people of peace?

They call for Israel to stop defending itself … but they refuse to demand the one thing that would immediately end the war and all this dying – the surrender of Hamas.

On the steps of this art gallery, days after the pogrom of October 7, people stood here and celebrated murder, rape, beheadings and kidnappings.

**

We mourn … we grieve every single innocent life lost.

We do not celebrate dead innocents.

Neither do we tally up bodies in a grotesque competition where the side with the most dead wins moral victory.

And even if some of the people who march for Palestine do not celebrate beheadings, do not applaud rape or rejoice at mass murder – they are absolutely content to march alongside people who do.

Those who on these steps called those horrific, inhuman atrocities “brilliant and amazing” are not only part of a movement that is holding human beings hostage.

They are holding hostage humanity itself.

They have abducted words like peace and ceasefire, freedom and human rights — but they desecrate these values.

Canadians have allowed people who align with the most misogynistic, homophobic, xenophobic, violent and totalitarian forces on earth to masquerade as voices for justice and equality … while accusing us of humanity’s greatest crimes.

If these people were genuinely advancing human rights and social justice, they wouldn’t need to cover their faces in keffiyahs and balaclavas.

We need to figuratively tear off their masks and show Canadians who these people are …

**

Maybe many Canadians don’t care about a conflict half a world away.

But the violence, coercion, intimidation and racism these people embody is a threat to Canada… to our civility … our peace, our multiculturalism and political discourse.

But the threat does not come only from the goons marching in the streets.

It also comes from some of our elected officials – including some who, until very recently, we thought were our friends — from the trusted teacher, the activist clergyperson, the crusading union leader, the self-righteous politically engaged artist.

Meanwhile, far too many Canadians have stood on the sidelines while extremists have taken over our streets, our campuses, our community theatres, our high schools, our public service.

Maybe they don’t care about Israelis.

Maybe they don’t care if the Jewish people lose their country.

But when they wake up and see that Canadians have lost ours … Jewish Canadians and their allies will be asking. Where were you?

Where were you when we were standing up for the values that Israelis and Canadians share?

Where were you when we demanded bring them home?

Because if you are not standing with Israelis against extremism … you are emboldening extremism in Canada.

This is not about choosing between Israelis and Palestinians. Unlike the extremists, we want peace for everyone.

This is about choosing between civilization and barbarism.

And we need to ask every Canadian: Which side are you on?

Selina Robinson’s full speech – rally for Israeli hostages March 17/24

My friends,

I am sorry that I could not join you in person for safety reasons, but I thank the organizers for sharing a few words on my behalf.

My heart has been with all of you these past five months. I join you in seeking release of the hostages now. I join you in seeking peace – peace for the Palestinians – peace for Israelis – peace for us all.

I am told the theme for this week is resilience and so I have spent the last few days reflecting on my own resilience – as the lone voice in government speaking up for the Jewish community and how difficult it had become while others remained silent. I also focused on how much more difficult it became after I was forced to resign, feeling punished for speaking up about Jew-hatred.

I reflected on where the strength, the koach came from to persist, when it would have been so much easier to be silent, to fade into the background, to go along with the others and to pretend that everything was okay.

So, from where do I draw the strength?

It comes from different places:

  • A husband outraged that his wife is poorly treated by her colleagues, forced from a role she loves and who now keeps a baseball bat in the bedroom because others are threatening her life.
  • A son who stopped going to his gym shortly after the massacre on Oct. 7 because the Port Moody gym owner and city councillor decided that putting up a large Palestinian flag in her gym demonstrating to the world that she suddenly cares so deeply about a complex geopolitical conflict thousands of miles away is more important than the hurt this causes friends, colleagues, and customers.
  • A daughter who now must find significant financial resources to make sure the Jewish children in her care are safe this summer.

My strength has also come from:

  • The two Jewish professional women who, as a requirement of their jobs, came to hear the Throne Speech at the Legislature in February. They were forced to find a safe route into the building as there were dozens of protesters aggressively calling for a unilateral ceasefire and the destruction of Jews.
  • The physicians who refuse to train Jew-hating UBC medical students.
  • The teachers who organize to push back on the Jew-hatred we are seeing in the [BC Teachers’ Federation].
  • The people working in the public service who are telling their stories of intimidation like being told that their Jewish star necklace is a symbol of genocide.

Resilience for me comes from the countless stories from people who talk about being fearful at work, from Holocaust survivors who say, “It’s happening again.”

Resilience comes from Jewish community leaders and volunteers who are doing everything they can to keep programs running, to push government to do the right thing, to care for their congregants who are scared and worried, and who lead by example.

Resilience comes from the emails and letters from hundreds of people, Jewish and non-Jewish alike, who remind me that even though I felt alone in my caucus and in government, I was not alone. I am not alone. We are not alone. Many were seeing what I was seeing, what we are seeing and are prepared to stand up to Jew-hatred.

Resilience comes from reaching out to others who are hurting too and finding out that they want to help heal our wounds together.

Resilience comes from seeing the Oct. 7 survivors of rape and torture pick up the pieces of their lives. It comes from seeing Israelis gather once again to protest their government. It comes from so many of you who have reached out with words of support, encouragement, and love.

Resilience comes from us gathering our collective strength as we lift each other up and remind ourselves that we are not alone – that together we will find the strength – the strength to bring peace.

Using politics to divide

The House of Commons passed a watered-down motion about Israel and Palestine Monday night after a raucous day in Parliament. The compromise amendments on the New Democratic Party’s motion seemed as much about saving face for the governing Liberals as they did about doing what is right for Palestinians and Israelis.

The main takeaway from the compromise was the change from calling on the government to unilaterally recognize the “state of Palestine” to working toward “the establishment of the state of Palestine as part of a negotiated two-state solution,” which is essentially what Canadian foreign policy has said for years.

The rest of the motion was a laundry list of demands, some reasonable, some far out. There were mandatory expressions of concern for victims on both sides and platitudes about future coexistence. 

The clear sticking point was the unilateral recognition of Palestine as a state. The opposition Conservatives were unanimously opposed to the motion. The Bloc Québécois (which might hope other countries would someday recognize an independent Quebec), the Greens and, of course, the sponsoring NDP lined up in favour. The drama Monday was in the Liberal caucus.

Opposition parties have tried to use the conflict and the larger issues in the Middle East as a wedge between various factions in the governing Liberal caucus. While many Liberal MPs probably wish the unending bugbear of Mideast politics would stop filling their inboxes, small numbers of MPs on both sides of the issue are deeply committed to their respective positions. After the motion was amended, the most vocal pro-Israel Liberals – Anthony Housefather, Marco Mendocino and Ben Carr – voted against their caucus colleagues, leaving the decided impression that the Zionists were frozen out in a negotiation that most Liberals felt they could support without alienating too many of their voters. 

While everyone wishes the violence would end, the motion’s call for an immediate ceasefire is, speciously, a backdoor for continued Hamas rule. The call to end Canadian military trade with Israel is a largely hollow symbol – there is hardly any trade in military equipment and, of that, it is exclusively non-lethal material.

What many people found offensive in the motion was the idea that, in the aftermath of the Oct. 7 terror attacks, we should move in what is, in historical terms, the blink of an eye, to demanding Palestinian statehood. Most reasonable people imagine a two-state solution – but to prioritize that now sends a message, not only to Palestinian extremists, but to violent forces everywhere, that mass murder and kidnappings are the surest ways to advance your cause.

The NDP position is based on an assumption that Israel appears to have given up on the two-state solution – indeed, the prime minister of Israel has effectively said just that. And, yes, there are extremist voices within Israel’s government who are committed to denying Palestinian statehood. However, the continued terrorism and incitement to eradicate Israel that remains widespread, if not ubiquitous, in Palestinian politics and society is a major cause of the failure of a two-state solution. Israel may have an effective veto on Palestinian statehood, but it is Palestinian terrorists (and the failure of the, ahem, elected leaders to reign them in) that has put the two-state solution on a back burner. It is a challenge to understand how Oct. 7 reasonably moves that goal forward. To suggest that Canada should recognize a Palestinian state before the Palestinians have believably committed to living in coexistence is to demonstrate a profound nonchalance about the lives of Israelis. 

But, let’s be clear about a couple of things. No reasonable person is expecting a permanent peace between Israel and an eventual state of Palestine that looks like, say, the amity between Canada and the United States. We can hope for a cold peace like those between Israel and Egypt or Jordan. Anything beyond that is still in the realm of fantasy, though there are people on the ground, on both sides, who are working towards a warmer, more integrated and, frankly, safer reality.

Moreover, for all the nail-biting on Parliament Hill this week, in the greater scheme, the whole drama amounted to a hill of hummus. Let’s not overestimate the impact Canada can have. Whatever Canadian MPs say or do about the conflict, the Dead Sea remains salty. This does not mean, however, that Monday’s spectacle has no impacts. It has impacts – on Canadian Jews, Israelis, Palestinians, Muslims and others with a deep connection to these issues.

Heather McPherson, the NDP foreign affairs critics, acknowledged on CBC TV Monday that the motion was really about making a statement in support of Palestinians (as were, presumably, the numerous keffiyehs and fists of solidarity raised during the votes). Fine. As other MPs noted, though, the motion – whether passed or defeated – was destined to leave one community hurt. 

The final motion was better than the original one. Not by much, though. In the end, a compromise was attempted, but the voices of the Jewish and pro-Israel communities were the ones who still felt betrayed.

Pro-Israel organizations in Canada released condemnatory statements, with the Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs scathingly declaring that the Liberal government has “chosen to effectively sub-contract Canadian foreign policy to anti-Israel radicals within the NDP and the Bloc Québécois.”

For all the fireworks and emotion, the entire fiasco was an example of multicultural communities being pitted against one another through wedge politics on a divisive issue that guaranteed one community in the country would feel abandoned. And, after political manoeuvring, backroom negotiations and 11th-hour compromises … surprise! It’s the Jews. 

Making meaning in diaspora

“We’re planning a family event in June.” That’s how I start nearly every contact with vendors while trying to arrange it. Sometimes, I say a “party with family and friends.” I avoid saying b’nai mitzvah. It’s just easier and safer.

One of my twins has a locker at junior high near a student who uses her body as a sign of protest. “Free Palestine” is written on her cheek. Other days, messages are emblazoned on a sweatshirt. My kid says she seems to stare at him, but I recommended he just stay away, don’t stare back, and don’t cause any kind of confrontation. “Do you know this person?” I ask him. “No,” he says, “she doesn’t know us.” What he meant is perhaps more obvious to us now – he doesn’t think she knows we are Jewish.

The transition from a bilingual Hebrew/English public elementary school to a junior high where Jewish kids are few and far between has been a big one. To my surprise, it went smoothly, but, over time, the ramifications have become clear. We knew our kids would figure out that we were, in fact, a small minority in Canadian culture. In elementary school, they would choose surprising moments to discuss Jewish things or use words in Hebrew with people at the dentist’s office or on public transportation. At first, our explanations about how people were different, with various religions and backgrounds were confusing. In their minds, they still believed everyone was Jewish.

On one hand, I loved that they didn’t have to learn to code-switch as early as I did. Code-switching is a way to describe how we switch between dialects, languages or personae in different settings. That is, a person might speak one language at home and another at work. In Jewish settings, one might use what linguists call “Jewish English,” English interspersed with Yiddish or Hebrew or other Jewish languages. At home, we might be encouraging someone to “daven at shul” with friends. We might shout “Dai, maspik!” (“Stop, enough!”) when someone misbehaves. In public, we might say “go to services” or “Behave yourself!”

Some people say that learning this kind of nuance takes maturity, but that doesn’t always ring true. I knew, by age 5 or 6 when my ethno-religious identity needed to be kept to myself. During times of extreme antisemitism, children were forced to keep this hidden, or even not told they were Jewish until old enough to manage the information. Giving my kids this extended time of safety felt like offering them a special oasis, a honeymoon that I missed.

Years ago, I worked with an editor and writer who shared with me that she had a Jewish background, although she was adamantly secular. I often felt the need to code-switch with her, as something made me feel like I was “too Jewish” for her comfort level. Since Oct.7, things have changed. She has become public in her Jewish identity, speaking out against antisemitism. Recently, she has been reading history and research for a book-length project. Today, she said, reflecting on an historic “golden age” for Jews in Polish history: “There is no safety in America now just because it’s been a golden age for my lifetime.” Yeah, I responded. I know.

Everyone copes differently. On social media and among friends, some dig into their Jewish identities. They’re consistently posting about their Jewish pride or activities and asking others to do so as well. One local friend who regularly attends synagogue told me that, if anything, this war has made her want to “do Jewish” even more, so she’s physically attending more services and gatherings than she had previously. Others decide to keep their kids home from school on days where there might be safety issues or have stopped attending anything at all connected with the Jewish community. They keep a low profile. Being loud and proud isn’t their way.

I have seen all these approaches (and many variations) from the Jewish people I know. And there are the minority Jewish viewpoints, too, on the political right and left. Those who claim more of an affinity with their progressive causes than with Jewish ones are often vocal on social media and at pro-Palestinian protests, either finding ways to disown their background or use their Judaism to explain their activism. Some particularly outspoken ones demonstrate, at least to me, that they don’t have a solid grounding in Jewish history and tradition, particularly as it relates to Israel, but instead embrace narratives around colonialism and apartheid instead.

Lately, I have been longing to ask where these “land back” Canadian Jewish activists live, if not in homes on occupied land taken from Indigenous communities. If homes here are on occupied ground, where do they believe it would be acceptable for Jews to live? I wonder how they mesh these theories with their everyday lives, or the archeological, historical and literary references to the Jewish past.

Living in grey areas of nuance is exhausting. There are so many references in Jewish texts to back this up. We have, after all, been struggling with these identity issues for millennia. We’re the ethnic group for whom the Greek word of “diaspora” was invented. Yet, this is one time where more evidence seems pointless. For those of us who feel this discord and disconnect, it’s not news. For others, who either manage to live wholly in the Jewish world or outside of it, these retellings of history aren’t useful. So many people have made their place, and it’s not in the margins of subtlety.

There’s no one response that suits. For me, I understand the value of having a rich interior and family life. The moment I’m absorbed in braiding challah and reciting the blessing blocks out some of this noise. Although I’m alone, it’s meaningful spending that small moment to send love and prayers for the hostages, the Jewish community and my family. I knit sweaters for ever-growing twins, anticipating their big birthday ahead this spring. I fall deep into intellectual arguments online, or into gazing at a pileated woodpecker whose rat-a-tat vibrates throughout the neighbourhood.

Finding one’s authentic self, the comfort zone where all the discord falls away, offers a brief respite. As we meet this complex moment in time, finding small outlets of escape can enable us to keep on going. Perhaps this is about good mental health or, as generations before us have explained, it’s nothing new. It’s about making a meaningful life in a diaspora, amid struggle. 

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.

To heal a fractured campus

Last November, I interviewed my grandmother for an oral history project – one I had been meaning to do for a long time – about her experience surviving the Holocaust. As the grandson of two Holocaust survivors, I can affirm the reality of intergenerational trauma. Yet, as I listened to her story, I realized she was teaching me valuable, timeless lessons which the University of British Columbia community can apply on campus. That is why I am obligated to share her story – so that we avoid repeating the mistakes of the past. 

My grandmother was 13 years young when her parents and most of her family were taken away from her and deported, either to be shot on their way to Bergen-Belsen or exterminated in the gas chambers of Auschwitz. My grandmother, my safta (as I call her in Hebrew), was a little girl, orphaned, vulnerable and left all alone. She had every right to be bitter and resentful, to identify herself as a perpetual victim and to rightfully blame the Nazis for her suffering. But she did not.

She could never forgive nor forget the evil perpetrated by the Nazis. However, with this in mind, she had to move on with her life. The way she redeemed tragedy was not to define herself as the victim of the past, asking, “Who did this to me?” but rather by taking responsibility for the future, asking, “Given these circumstances, how can I help to put this situation right?”

This is the greatest eternal lesson I have learned from my grandmother and all the Holocaust survivors I have met: never internalize a victim mentality. Otherwise, you will not only become consumed with hate but also enslaved to the past. As the late chief rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks once said, “To be free, you have to let go of hate.”

My grandmother took the negative energy and elevated it toward a higher purpose: toward marrying my grandfather, toward raising a family, toward giving back to her community. Her all-encompassing identity, attitude and purpose in life has been not based on the hate of others. Rather, her identity is based on the love of her fellow Jews, of being grateful for her heritage and everything else she had. 

“No one can make you feel inferior without your consent,” Eleanor Roosevelt once said. There was one thing from my grandmother that even the Nazis could never take away: her will to be proudly Jewish. 

UBC campus today

For my grandmother, the Hamas massacre that took place on Oct. 7, 2023, triggered painful memories from the Holocaust. “Never again,” the lesson we learned from the six million Jews murdered, has now become “ever again.”

The amount of toxic hate I have seen on my campus (and other universities as well) since Oct. 7 has been both disheartening and overwhelming. From disrespectful comments on social media posts, to provocative posters on campus demonizing the other side, to verbal and physical harassment of students, there is a small, yet vocal, minority of students who create a highly flammable atmosphere on campus. 

At UBC, I have witnessed students chanting the phrase “globalize the intifada,” a term that has historically been used in the context of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict not for “peaceful resistance,” but for terrorizing Jews with suicide bombings, shooting attacks, stabbings and other means of armed violence. I have witnessed students blacklisting other students because they do not agree with their opinions. I have witnessed students rudely spamming hateful comments (which are now taken down) on UBC’s social media page to take advantage of International Holocaust Remembrance Day to push a political message. When I hear that “hate has no place on campus,” I unfortunately continue to observe the opposite.

This is the reason why I dropped my Middle East studies minor. Every time I walked into the classroom, the negative energy was palpable. I was walking on eggshells bringing up my Jewish identity or even mentioning the word “Israel.” Every day, I had to hide my kippa under my hat so that my classmates with different viewpoints would not identify me as Jewish and publicly shame me. In short, I did not feel welcome.

At a university, a safe space should not be a place where you are protected by those with whom you agree from those with whom you disagree – that is called groupthink. Rather, a safe space should be a place where you make space for those who disagree with you so that each can listen to the other with respect.

Whether or not you agree with Israeli, Jewish, Palestinian, Arab, Muslim or any other claims, there is no justification whatsoever to scream, silence or slander those with whom you disagree. Right now, the university needs more civility and calm for all students. 

Yes, we must acknowledge that there are significant casualties on both sides of the conflict. Yes, we must acknowledge each other’s suffering. At the very least, we can all agree that every human life is sacred with equal dignity.

While we cannot control external circumstances halfway across the world from us, we can control how we respond to it. We can choose to wallow in misery and demonize the other (asking “Who did this to me?”), or we can take action to recognize each other’s suffering and elevate it to something positive (asking “Given these circumstances, how can I help to put this situation right?”).

Now, how do we do that?

Listening, not labeling

Opening yourself up to someone whose colour, culture, class or creed is different from yours can seem daunting. In an age of echo chambers, filtered media and narrowcasting, we all have a tendency to tune in to that which aligns only with our own viewpoint, while tuning out others. However, it is precisely the people not like us that make us grow. 

From clubs tabling on campus to classmates sitting next to you, there are plenty of opportunities to actively seek out diverse perspectives. We need to learn how to listen for the sake of learning, not labeling.

If one has a monopoly on the truth, then why bother listening to others? Because, as a mystical Jewish saying goes: “A full vessel cannot receive.” It is only by acquiring humility, the sense of opening ourselves up to something beyond ourselves, that we realize our own perspective is merely one finite fragment of an infinitely fractured truth. Thus, I’ve reflected on three ideas worth sharing.

First: there is no justice for any person or people without listening to the other side.

Second: true peace, in our relationships with others and toward ourselves, comes as a result of active listening.

And third: in the words of C.S. Lewis, “Humility is not thinking less of ourselves, but thinking of ourselves less.”

Listening to the other is the first step toward recognizing the “dignity of difference.”

The antidote to hate

Hate, like COVID-19, is a virus. Viruses do not distinguish between different types of people, but rather fester and grow into an infectious force that threatens us all. Historically, for example, the Nazi regime may have started with targeting Jews, but it didn’t end with Jews. Nazis also targeted Roma, Sinti, LGBTQIA+, people with disabilities and political dissidents. Hate knows no bounds. 

With this in mind, I offer three practical suggestions for what each of us can do on an everyday level to bring more hope to campus – and perhaps other places.

First, take a moment to unplug your AirPods or headphones. Just do it! Whether it’s while sitting on the bus or walking on campus, withdraw from your isolated world for five minutes and acknowledge someone you don’t know by saying hello with a genuine smile. Give them your full, undivided attention and start a friendly conversation. Humanizing starts with acknowledging the other.

Second, take a class from a perspective you have never heard from before. I am a history major. I had never considered taking an environmental history course before simply because I was not interested. But it is precisely for this reason that I am taking the course. Now, I realize how I could see my preexisting knowledge and interests from a new, oblique angle I would never have seen otherwise.  

And third, follow social media accounts of people with different viewpoints from your own. Just like our earbuds, we are constantly using our phones. Every time we open Instagram or Twitter, we are training ourselves to focus on our interests and are quick to judge other accounts as not worth our time. Instead of judgment, be curious and interact with accounts to train yourself to learn from others, not label them.  

We are first and foremost a community, of students and professors, of friends and family, of human beings with human emotions. Divided, we are more susceptible to hate. United, however, we have the potential to become force multipliers of hope over hate.   

Each one of us should ask ourselves: Are we taking actions to further fracture our world, or heal it?

If we are to heal our fractured world, we must first recognize that each and every one of us has the power and influence to turn negative energy into positive energy, just like my grandmother did. If she could continue to spread light after going through the darkest chapter in human history, how much more so can every one of us dispel the darkness of hate by becoming beacons of light in our communities at UBC and elsewhere.

It all starts with one positive thought, one friendly compliment, one good deed. 

It all starts with you. 

Eitan Feiger is a fourth-year history student and the vice-president and treasurer of the University of British Columbia’s Chabad Jewish Student Centre. This article was originally published in the Ubyssey.

Let’s talk about new bill

The federal Liberal government has introduced a new Online Harms Bill. The bill is intended to address two primary areas of concern – hate crimes against groups and posts that harm individuals, such as those that bully children – and recognizes a range of what are clearly serious problems.

If passed, the new law would require social media platforms and “user-uploaded adult content” websites to delete offending posts within 24 hours. These could include posts that encourage self-harm, target a child for bullying or are examples of “revenge porn” – the distribution of, for example, nude photos of a former partner.

The bill also proposes making hate-motivated crimes a separate offence. Hate motivation can currently be considered in the sentencing phase as an aggravating context. The bill would amend the Canadian Human Rights Act to have the Canadian Human Rights Commission address some of these concerns.

Maximum penalties would be severely stiffened. For example, the maximum sentence for advocating genocide online would be life imprisonment, up from five years.

The law would also create a panel, a “digital safety commission,” to oversee online content and it would reclassify hate speech as discrimination under the Criminal Code. A digital safety ombudsperson would support victims and guide social media companies. Companies that break the rules could be fined up to $10 million or six percent of their global revenues. Private messages between individuals, like email, would not fall within the prohibitions.

Since Section 13 of the Canadian Human Rights Act was repealed a decade ago, commentators and activists, including Jewish organizations, have been calling for something to address serious issues around online content. This is the government’s overdue response – overdue by its own admission, having promised during the last election campaign to advance such a bill in its first 100 days if reelected.

Opposition parties fell into sadly predictable lines. New Democrat leader Jagmeet Singh said his party will vote for the bill and condemned the government for waiting so long. Conservative leader Pierre Poilievre turned his hyperbole hose on full force, calling the bill part of “Justin Trudeau’s woke authoritarian agenda.”

“What does Justin Trudeau mean when he says the words ‘hate speech’? He means the speech he hates,” said Poilievre. “You can assume he will ban all of that.”

Surely parliamentary democracy can come up with something more nuanced between “Faster, faster! More, more!” and “We’re all headed for the gulags.”

The bill was tabled last week and will go through committee before coming back to the House of Commons. The committee phase is when elected officials examine the details of proposed legislation and we trust (despite the above caveats) that sober consideration will be given to balance the right to free expression and the legitimate need to protect individuals and groups from harm.

The experience of now-defunct Section 13 should be an object lesson for politicians considering the new law. The section was finally killed after showing itself to be both too weak to address the realities of an online world that didn’t exist when the law was originally drafted, yet strong enough to drag individuals and institutions with controversial but probably reasonable speech (for example, Maclean’s magazine and commentator Mark Steyn) before something resembling a Cold War show trial.

Justice Minister Arif Virani responded to concerns over free expression.

“It does not undermine freedom of speech. It enhances free expression by empowering all people to safely participate in online debate,” he said. This reflects an emerging approach to online dialogue, in which traditional ideas of free speech are balanced with the reality that some people are excluded from participation through harassment and threats, which may be a fair assessment. 

Outrage at hate speech is an appropriate response, but one aspect of the bill could have the effect of turning reasonable people off it. Few would seriously believe that a judge is going to send someone to prison for life (ie., 25 years) for a late night, drunken rant that the law characterizes as incitement to genocide. However, the fact that the law would permit precisely that outcome makes the whole exercise faintly preposterous, like the exasperated parent who shouts, “You’re grounded for life!” Appearance can be reality and that aspect of the bill looks ridiculous. Moreover, all of us should apply sober second thought when advocating for the expansion of the prison system – imprisonment is not a solution to hate.

Canada has always taken a different approach to expression than our First Amendment cousins in the United States. Absolutism, which is the American approach, is comparatively easy. The more nuanced approach of finding a balance is an organic, always shifting challenge.

Most Canadians do not pay a great deal of attention to the goings-on in parliamentary committees. This would be a good time to start. Last week’s tabling of the Online Harms Bill should be the beginning of a national conversation. 

Danger in cancelations

Leah Goldstein was supposed to speak today at an International Women’s Day event but her invitation was rescinded. (photo from Leah Goldstein)

Leah Goldstein, a BC woman who is a professional road-racing cyclist and inspirational speaker, was supposed to be sharing her story with an audience in Peterborough, Ont., today, International Women’s Day. Instead, first she, then the event itself, was canceled, a byproduct of tensions around the Israel-Hamas war and its overflow into domestic affairs in Canada and around the world.

Goldstein, who lives in Vernon, was told her invitation to share her story – one of resilience and recovery following a devastating 2005 road accident that nearly ended her career – had been rescinded by the group organizing the IWD event in the city northeast of Toronto. The event had become the target of protests and threats after local activists learned of Goldstein’s service in the Israeli military.

“Their sponsor threatened to pull support after receiving threats from a small group of activists,” Goldstein told the Independent. 

Goldstein spent most of her 20s first in the Israel Defence Forces teaching the martial art krav maga, then in elite Israeli spy and police agencies. 

“I was made in Israel,” Goldstein said. “I was born in Canada.” The family made aliyah when Goldstein was a child, and she has dual Canadian and Israeli citizenship.

Perhaps in keeping with her martial arts background, Goldstein pulls no punches over her cancelation. In the climate since the start of the war, in October, it is not just Israelis who are being targeted, she said, but Jews.

“It’s not the IDF or whatever,” she said. “Even if I didn’t serve in the IDF, I still question whether they would’ve had me present.”

If the shoe were on the other foot, Goldstein said she would have no problem listening to a person with a different perspective.

“I can promise you this, though. If I were a Palestinian woman, I would not have been canceled,” she said. “As a Jewish woman, I would also not be offended listening to a Palestinian woman talking about her life. Why would I be offended?”

Whatever caused the organizers to disinvite her, whether her identity or the fact of her military background, Goldstein said, the content of her presentation would not have been controversial. 

image - No Limits by Leah Goldstein book cover“I’m not political,” she said. “I’ve been speaking for 11 years. Not one time has anyone ever come up to me, my manager or the organization I work for and said they felt offended by anything I said. Not one time in 11 years. I speak about my athletic career, about my crashes, my recovery, some of the hardships that many women go through. That’s it.”

By focusing on her past, rather than her current message, Goldstein said, it is other people who are making Israel and Palestine an issue.

“They are almost forcing me to be political by making a comment or a statement,” she said.

Goldstein’s story is one of literally too many to keep track of recently, with anti-Israel activists targeting individuals, groups and businesses for cancelation or boycotts. In some cases – the defacing of a statue in Toronto of the late Canadian Jewish actor Al Waxman with Palestinian slogans – there is no pretence that the target is Israel rather than Jews.

Here in Canada, recently, other incidents are just this side of plausible deniability of overt antisemitism. 

An anti-Israel march through the streets of Toronto took a moment to linger outside Mount Sinai Hospital chanting for “intifada.” After condemnations from Toronto’s mayor, Canada’s prime minister and other top officials, protest organizers insisted there was no antisemitic intent in targeting a hospital with a Jewish name founded by Jewish doctors.

“[Mount Sinai Hospital] just happens to be along our regular rally route, which we pass by on a usual basis, as we head to rally in front of the U.S. consulate,” they said in a statement.

If any form of racism was at play, they insisted, it was on the other side.

“The irony is that portraying the raising of the Palestinian flag as a hate-motivated act of antisemitism is itself perpetuating anti-Palestinian racism,” they contended.

Days later, an anti-Israel rally at McGill University in Montreal blockaded the Samuel Bronfman Building on campus, home of the university’s management department, accusing the faculty of a “long history of complicity in the occupation of Palestine.” The choice of location had nothing to do with the famous Jewish name plastered on the front of the building, they said.

Closer to home, Muslim organizations in British Columbia threatened that representatives of the NDP provincial government would not be permitted in Muslim spaces as long as Selina Robinson remained in cabinet because she made an offhanded remark about the arability of desert land three-quarters of a century ago. As one of the country’s most prominent (and only) Jewish elected officials and one who has unashamedly defended Israel, Robinson’s expulsion was a big coup for the activists.

These are all of a piece with similar reported events and, doubtlessly, many more such incidents unreported.

The Jewish-American singer (American, note, not Israeli) Matisyahu is currently in the midst of a kerfuffle in which concerts in Arizona and New Mexico were canceled. The venues assured the public that the concerts were canceled because of security concerns and short staffing, not because he’s a Jew. 

Comedian Jerry Seinfeld was recently subjected to chants of “genocide supporter” and “Nazi scum” while leaving the State of World Jewry address by author Bari Weiss at New York’s 92nd Street Y. He got, perhaps, a better sense of the state of world Jewry outside the event than he did inside.

The group Art Not Genocide Alliance is calling to exclude Israel from this year’s 60th Venice Biennale. Officials at the Eurovision Song Contest are fine-tooth-combing this year’s Israeli entry to make sure there are no hidden political messages. Soccer governing bodies from 12 countries – almost all of them among the world’s worst human rights violators – are calling for Israeli teams to be excluded from FIFA, the international football entity.

In each of these instances, there is an argument to be made that the targets were not chosen because they are Jews (or are institutions founded or funded by Jews) but because they were at a Zionist event, or they made an impolitic remark or the people in the building are guilty of some unspecified Zionist infraction. This, though, is to unjustly justify their actions.

Whether Israel is being fairly or unfairly untreated is not the point here. Goldstein’s cancelation and the raft of similar examples are not targeting a country but Jewish individuals and entities. Yes, we are assured, these Jewish individuals and entities are also Zionist people and groups, a differentiation that is presumed to excuse this extraordinary singling out. Yet, we do not see performing artists from China, a country that is holding hundreds of thousands of Muslims in concentration camps, denied admission to Canadian or European cultural festivals. Citizens of Saudi Arabia, which holds mass public executions and subjugates the female half of the population, is not excluded from world soccer events. Citizens of the 50 or so other countries in the world that (unlike Israel) are categorized as “not free” or “partly free” are not subjected to slanders on the streets of New York or banned from speaking in Peterborough.

Never mind human rights abominations like North Korea or Iran. The brutalities perpetrated by their governments are almost entirely ignored by commentators and activists fixated on Israel. Again, though, that is only part of the problem. What we are seeing here is not an attack on official representatives of those countries. Rather, it is akin to screaming at people leaving an exhibition of Iranian art or boycotting a Chinese-Canadian-owned business. It is the sort of guilt by proxy that led apparently millions of otherwise decent Canadians to see little wrong in interning “enemy aliens” during wartime – except even that parallel fails because Canada is not at war with Israel but has longstanding and justifiably friendly relations and shared values with that country.

Agree or not with the approach, movements targeting a country and its official representatives operate in a realm of legitimate political discourse. There is something parallel but significantly different happening here. People and organizations perceived even remotely as associated with Israel are being targeted for boycotts – in some cases, to all appearances, merely being Jewish is enough to earn condemnation and cancelation. This is a textbook case (well, a codified illustration) of antisemitism.

Holding Jews collectively responsible for actions of the state of Israel is one of the examples accompanying the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance Working Definition of Antisemitism. This is largely moot, though, because the very people who employ these tactics explicitly reject the definition because it is accompanied by precisely examples like these. (If you don’t like being accused of xyz, redefine the meaning of xyz.)

Ultimately, there is no way to prove motivation. We can say the people shouting outside a Jewish hospital or calling Seinfeld “Nazi scum” are antisemitic, they can say they’re not, and no one is any further ahead.

There is something irrefutable, though. The Overton window, the spectrum of ideas that are deemed acceptable in a political discussion, is widening. Every time a Jewish speaker is targeted or a Jewish singer is subjected to cancelation and the public responds with a yawn, the bounds of what is acceptable broadens. It is by no means hyperbolic to suggest that this is precisely the way a society begins a slide into despotism or mob rule.

The context or content of the complaints cease to really matter. Organizations issue diktats demanding the ouster of a Jewish politician, thugs threaten to disrupt a concert, a religious group threatens a governing party’s standing in a few swing ridings and political leaders, event producers and concert venues capitulate. Pretty soon, activists and malcontents of all sorts see that threatening violence or boycotts is the easiest way to silence their targets because middle-of-the-road people fold instantly behind valid concerns for safety.

Motivation and intent probably matter less than outcome. These targetings have the effect of isolating, sidelining and menacing Jewish people – call them Jews, call them Zionists, call them whatever.

This is, without overstatement, a dangerous threat to bedrock ideas of a democratic society. 

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.

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.