Opinion – Page 2

Wrong person rebuked

The City of Vancouver’s integrity commissioner this month declared that Mayor Ken Sim breached the city’s code of conduct by criticizing Councilor Sean Orr’s presence and comments at an anti-Israel rally last year.

The report concluded that Sim misused the influence of his office by holding a press conference to criticize Orr over inflammatory social media posts and his attendance at an anti-Israel protest alongside very problematic speakers and organizations. The report said Sim should apologize to Orr or face censure by council.

Ezra Shanken, chief executive officer of the Jewish Federation of British Columbia, said in a statement that the conflict commissioner’s report represented a double standard, and expressed gratitude to the mayor for raising our community’s concerns.

Nico Slobinsky, on behalf of the Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs, criticized Orr for not showing accountability for past social media posts, including claiming that city planners were controlled by a “secret cabal of Jews,” and calling for the “destruction of both Israel and Canada.” While a city councilor, Orr spoke at the “Flood for Palestine” protest organized by Al-Awda, a group with links to the terrorist entity Samidoun.

The brouhaha at city hall is just one in a small avalanche of administrative, legal and political episodes in recent years that have left many Jews feeling abandoned and betrayed by the institutions and legal protections ostensibly in place to protect them and other minority communities.

Many Jews feel under attack and, despite pleasant words from some elected officials, actual tangible responses often seem weak or absent. For example, the flooding of a Vancouver neighbourhood with hate messages against Jews and Israel have been effectively ignored by city officials. Clearing them away has been left to local residents. Nothing, apparently, has been done to reprimand the individual known to be perpetrating the graffiti and vandalism, despite laws and bylaws against precisely this sort of behaviour.

In Ontario, some progress has been seen recently. Toronto authorities responded to demonstrations in Jewish neighbourhoods by tightening enforcement, restricting marches from entering residential streets, and arresting some participants and investigating alleged incidents of hate speech and public incitement. Ontario’s Premier Doug Ford has been vocal in defending Jewish communities and, no doubt, his unequivocal position gave some political cover to police and others to take action.

No similar political leadership has been seen in British Columbia, where the unresolved case of Charlotte Kates remains a sore point for many in the Jewish community. Vancouver police arrested Kates in April 2024 after remarks at a Vancouver rally in which she praised the Oct. 7 Hamas attacks and venerated their perpetrators as heroic. Police recommended charges for public incitement and wilful promotion of hatred. Nearly two years later, Crown counsel has still not announced a charge decision. Pressed by the Independent, the premier’s office pointed to prosecutorial independence, arguing that charging decisions rest with the BC Prosecution Service, not elected officials.

This may be fair justification, but piled upon so many instances where words and actions that are perceived by Jews as hateful and inciting go officially unchallenged leave many Jewish people with an overall sense that they are being abandoned by those who should be enforcing anti-hate protections.

Parliament is now considering Bill C-9, a proposed online harms law that carries numerous provisions that Jewish leaders support. But many people are leery of more laws that likely will not be enforced, provisions intended to increase safety for minority communities – Jews, in particular – but that will not have their intended impact, whether because police do not enforce them, the Crown does not pursue charges or, if it reaches that level, courts do not convict. The proposed new federal law has much to recommend itself but, if it is just going to be another law on a dusty legal shelf, it will not change the situation we face.

The case of Vancouver’s mayor, who called out egregious incidents only to be called on the carpet himself – and ordered to apologize – portends a chilling on those who would stand up for the Jewish community.

We have laws in this country, but many of them are not being enforced. Very few Jews in this country, we confidently venture, believe the system is working as it should.

Canada’s mixed messages

In mid-May, a Winnipeg Free Press article by John Longhurst announced a new online database for research. This open access resource lists the names of German Nazi party members. The article’s target audience: the Manitoba Mennonite community.

As background: Many German Mennonites, previously pacifist, joined the Nazi party starting in the early 1930s. In the article, Arnold Neufeldt-Fast, a Toronto researcher, said the goal of researching and publicizing the records was not to condemn or shame anyone. “The point,” he said, “is to understand what made their choices feel plausible at the time, and what this means for us now in Canada and the US.” Aileen Friesen, who teaches Mennonite History at the University of Winnipeg, said it could serve “as a lesson for our current time.”

I’m concerned about this “lesson.” Nazi membership before and during the Second World War is nothing to be proud about. Still, this does make it easier to understand the views of some Mennonites in 2026.

Some Winnipeg Mennonites often offer public opinions about Israel, Gaza and the war. They’re staunchly against war, but support Palestinian resistance and are against Israelis or Jews. This stance appears in local Mennonite gallery exhibits, fundraising, petitions and protests. It’s on stickers on lampposts near a neighbourhood Mennonite school. While out walking, I peel off “Free Palestine” stickers with cartoon characters doing a Sieg Heil and QR code stickers with “Boycott Israel.”

This “pacifism” chooses a side just like German Mennonites chose the Nazi party. This stance doesn’t examine what these choices mean to the safety of others, such as Jewish Canadians who live nearby. It doesn’t reflect a morality-based Christian religious tradition or teachings from a Jewish guy named Jesus, let alone Jewish texts or culture.

Actions have consequences. This failure to understand logical outcomes echoes throughout Canadian society. Prime Minister Mark Carney’s Davos speech described Canada’s goals for trade alliances and Canada’s role as a “middle power.” It’s easy to see that this dream is failing on a practical level.

Canada, a “human rights champion,” has an uneven track record. According to United Nations Watch, on April 8, Canada, as part of the 54-nation United Nations Economic and Social Council, “participated in the consensus nomination of the Islamic Republic of Iran” to a committee responsible for funding women’s rights, human rights, and terrorism prevention. The United States was the only nation who objected to this nomination.

Previously, Canada objected in similar UN processes, but, this time, Canada supported the Iranian regime. Iran’s government has enforced a nearly complete internet blackout since Feb. 28. It kills protesters. The regime uses morality police to force women to cover their hair. Female “offenders” suffer arrests, assaults, rapes, torture and murder. Iran’s regime funds terror proxies, including in Gaza, Lebanon and Yemen. Yet, Canada didn’t object to the UN nomination.

Canada also has problems fighting terrorism at home. In October 2024, Canada listed Samidoun, an organization supporting Palestinian terrorism, as a terrorist entity under the Criminal Code. Eventually, in March 2026, Canada revoked Samidoun’s nonprofit status. Based on federal anti-hate provisions, Vancouver police arrested Samidoun’s international coordinator, Charlotte Kates, for inciting hate and released her with conditions. Apparently, those conditions allow speaking on Iranian state television, attending the funeral of Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah in Lebanon and continuing permission to live in Canada. (Kates is an American whose status in Canada is not publicly known.) The same goes for her husband, Khaled Barakat, Samidoun’s founder, who was deported from the United States in 2003.

This spring, Canada welcomed international leaders for the FIFA Congress, including Palestine Football Association head Jibril Rajoub, who was previously convicted of throwing a grenade at an Israeli army bus. Israel later released Rajoub in a prisoner exchange, and he committed further offences. Once in Canada, Rajoub publicly refused to shake hands with the FIFA Arab-Israeli representative, Basim Sheikh Suliman. Meanwhile, Canada refused to let the Iranian FIFA representative into the country. These decisions were inconsistent, not the “pragmatic and principled” actions of a country committed to human rights.

If Canada wishes to be a human rights champion, it must work to stop terrorism at home. The government should protect Canadians from danger. Consistent law and immigration enforcement and UN decisions that support these rights would be a good start.

Education’s another way to be an effective middle power. Increase funding for teaching and researching social sciences, including international relations, political science, religious studies and history. These disciplines offer perspectives to better understand global issues and events. Canada must move beyond popular theories like the oppressor/oppressed model that doesn’t adequately explain conflicts beyond biased white/black racial narratives. This oppressor theory fails in Middle Eastern, African or Asian contexts where Western conceptions of colonization, race and power don’t easily apply.

With a broader social science approach, future Canadian leaders could better understand complicated global situations. Educated Canadians with these skills could better examine global economics, conflicts and the geographic strengths.

For instance, our media and government often ascribe outsized power to Israel. This is a common antisemitic conspiracy theory. Israel’s a tiny democracy of 10 million people, with sizeable minority populations. Many also demonize Binyamin Netanyahu, Israel’s prime minister. Canada, like many Israelis, may not agree with Netanyahu’s government’s policies, but no other Middle Eastern leaders were elected by functioning democracies. Further, media seldom hold any other Middle Eastern country responsible for its role in the conflict.

Canada’s resources, educated population and multicultural diversity could make it a powerhouse. Yet, its foreign policies don’t use intellectual rigour. Historically, Canada has offered up inconsistent international policies, and bias regarding many of its minorities. Past prime ministers have apologized, promising to forge a better Canada. Instead, Canada’s “oppressor” rhetoric poses as a “peaceful” bystander and blames Israel.

Canada has a tradition of simplistic politics of blame like “war is bad.” Our geographic isolation protects us. It allows Canada to watch hate happen and reproach others without getting involved. Our country must accept that consistently being a bystander isn’t good enough. Failing to condemn or shame those who committed grievous wrongs isn’t good enough. It wasn’t OK to join the Nazi party 90 years ago. It wasn’t OK to reject Jewish refugees. We know where this kind of hatemongering leads. Canada, and Canadians, can do better than this.

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.

Questions for museum

The Canadian Museum for Human Rights’ planned exhibit Palestine Uprooted: Nakba Past and Present, set to open in June, is cause for concern. While what will be in the exhibit remains to be seen and is likely not yet finally determined, the very announcement that the exhibit will happen sends out wrong signals.

What are the boundaries of Palestine? There are a wide variety of proposals, as well as significant differences in the historical territory once called Palestine. Whatever those boundaries are, Palestine is land, not people. Contrary to what the title of the exhibit suggests, the land was not uprooted; it is still there.

The reference to land instead of people is a commonplace of antizionism. The PLO is called the Palestine Liberation Organization, not the Palestinian Liberation Organization. Pervasive antizionist pamphlets, posters, placards and signs say “Free Palestine,” not “Free Palestinians.”

For antizionists, this reference to land and not people is deliberate. For antizionists, the land that is now Israel is or should be Arab, Muslim land. That a Jewish state exists on that land means to them, bizarre as it may seem, that the land itself is not free.

Let’s suppose that the museum was not aware of this connotation and what they really meant to write was “Palestinians uprooted.” One question that arises is “Why only Palestinians?” There were more Jewish refugees from Arab countries and Iran created by the refusal of Arab and Muslim states to recognize the existence of Israel and the consequent wars against Israel than Arabs who left Israel during and after the 1948 Arab invasion. An exhibit that addresses the woes of only one side of an armed conflict is patently unbalanced.

Also what was the catastrophe? The text of the announcement of the exhibit states “Palestinians use the word ‘Nakba’ … to describe their forced displacement in 1948.” Some Palestinians indeed use the word in that way. Others use the word to refer to the creation of the state of Israel. For still others, albeit a minority, the catastrophe was the 1948 Arab invasion of Israel and the rejection of the United Nations peace plan, which would have created an Arab state alongside Israel.

Some of those who since 1968 have self-identified as Palestinians were forcibly displaced during the 1948 war. Others fled the crossfire, as the text of the museum announcement of the exhibit acknowledges. Others still left voluntarily, with organized Arab assistance, heeding the calls of Arab leadership to get out of the way of the Arab invasion so that the invaders could target Jews living in Israel without risk of harming Arabs, a reality that the announcement of the exhibit does not mention.

Who are the Palestinians? Does the term include all those present in the territory of former British Mandate Palestine at least two years prior to the time of the 1948 Arab invasion of Israel and who left during that invasion and their descendants, as the United Nations Relief and Works Agency now does? Or, is it limited to “those persons who acquired or had the right to acquire Palestinian nationality as of 6 August 1924” and their descendants, the PLO proposal of 2012 for Palestinian citizenship?

The text of the museum announcement states that the exhibit would explore “the human rights violations related to the ongoing forced displacement and dispossession of Palestinians.” The immediate violation of those rights after the 1948 Israeli-Arab war was the refusal to allow those who left Israel because of the war to be locally integrated into the neighbouring Arab states to which they had gone, an integration for which UNRWA was created to facilitate. The states of arrival have kept those who left in a permanent pseudo-refugee status, intended as a permanent indictment of the creation of the state of Israel. Will the museum exhibit explore that?

Antizionists, not least Hamas, have engineered a wide variety of human rights violations and atrocities against the Arab population of Israel who left Israel and their descendants in order to shift blame to Israel for the purpose of discrediting its existence. Is the museum exhibit going to explore that?

The suffering of Palestinians is plain to see. The antizionist attacks on the existence of Israel have caused suffering for both Palestinians and Jews. In its exhibition, the museum must show awareness of the antizionist efforts to engineer and manipulate the victimization of Palestinians to discredit the existence of Israel. If the museum were to say nothing about that engineering and manipulation, it would discredit itself.

David Matas is a Winnipeg lawyer and senior honorary counsel to B’nai Brith Canada. He was a member of the original content advisory committee for the museum. Noemi Gal-Or is an international lawyer based in Vancouver.

The balancing of rights

Canada prides itself on being a country where free expression is a core value. We have always differed from our American cousins, though, in recognizing a balance between an “anything goes” right to speech and the contending right of individuals and groups to live free from fear and incitement.

Canadian law draws definite lines. Speech that incites violence against an identifiable group, that promotes hatred or that crosses into criminal harassment is not protected. Those limits are not theoretical – they exist precisely because history has shown what can happen when words move from expression into incitement.

Even as governments take steps towards legislation that would create “bubble zones” and strengthen hate crime laws, many Canadians Jews are concerned that limitations already set out in law, intended to protect minority communities, are not being enforced. Rhetoric like “Globalize the intifada,” which is heard as an overt call for violence against Jews by most Jews and other people who can hear clearly, is going uncontested by police and courts, for example.

The Criminal Code is clear: advocating or promoting violence against identifiable groups crosses a line. The question is no longer whether such limits exist. The question is whether they are being enforced. And, increasingly, the answer appears to be no.

What we are seeing is not simply robust debate. It is a climate in which harassment and intimidation are proliferating, often without legal consequence.

There are, of course, consequences. Jewish institutions require heightened security after so many incidents that it is hard to keep up with the grim news. Students and faculty experience actively hostile campus environments. Public demonstrations brazenly cross the line between protest, provocation and hate.

There is no provable causal chain between rhetoric and violence. Democracies are right to err on the side of speech. But, when the same language, the same slogans and the same patterns of escalation appear alongside an unprecedented rise in hate incidents and targeted attacks, the correlation becomes increasingly difficult to dismiss – and demands attention.

Canada is not alone in confronting this tension. The British authorities have begun to draw firmer lines – distinguishing between lawful protest and language and conduct that threatens public safety or targets vulnerable communities.

The approach is not without controversy. It raises legitimate concerns about overreach and the risk of suppressing dissent. But it also reflects a recognition that inaction carries its own dangers.

Canada is facing a similar showdown.

The goal must not be to silence political views, however unpopular. Or to criminalize protest or suppress debate about complex international issues. Those must remain protected. The goal must be far narrower – to enforce the laws that already exist and to ensure that calls for violence, harassment and intimidation are treated as such, regardless of political context. To make clear that free expression does not extend to threatening the safety and dignity of others.

This is a position that seems simple enough, even unquestioned, when it comes to hateful language and physical intimidation against other vulnerable populations. The situation is serious and it demands the willingness to confront uncomfortable truths.

Canada should not abandon its commitment to free expression. But we must recognize, as we always have, that free expression has limits – and that those limits exist for a reason. In this instance, the reason is the evident correlation between rampant anti-Israel, antizionist and antisemitic rhetoric and the violence against Jews and Jewish institutions we are experiencing.

The government of the United Kingdom is now experimenting in enforcing limitations on hate expression. It is a courageous step. It could also be a turning point – in either direction.

The inevitable pushback around “silencing” (itself often founded on antisemitic tropes of Jewish power) and the more legitimate concerns about free speech make this a fraught policy area. However, if the UK, which shares much of our political culture, can find a middle ground, we would be wise to pay attention.

If, on the other hand, more violent protests, adverse court decisions or – more damagingly – if the government suffers internal splits or popular disapproval over its approach to anti-Jewish harassment, it could set a precedent in which politicians in places like Canada learn that it is best not to provoke the harassers. If that happens, it will signal an open season for anti-Jewish agitation and an extraordinary abandonment of free speech’s twin core value of being able to live free from fear and incitement.

What is needed right now is political courage. Some of that exists, but it needs to exist in a sufficient number of decision-makers and in the places of power where it is most needed and can have the most effect. For better or worse, we will know if this is the case soon enough.

Bad behaviour affects us all

Recently, my kids walked home from high school late because of their games club, which meets once a week. On their way, they saw a man on the sidewalk, coming from a pedestrian trail. He wore a sign on his back that read, “Netanyahu, Butcher of Gaza.” They hung back, took photos and alerted me when they got home.

Here’s a good reason to give Jewish teens access to cellphones. I used the “Find My” app to watch them walk home. They used the phone to document this. We found this signage offensive and upsetting, but it hadn’t been an emergency incident, so they didn’t use their phones to call 911.

I reported this incident to B’nai Brith Canada, who suggested also filing a police report. Over dinner, we discussed the sign. Was this antisemitism or just free speech, when using the IHRA definition of antisemitism? Is the test for this, “Would anyone reasonably use this kind of language about other countries’ publicly elected officials?” The answer for us was, “Well, yes.” We don’t approve of it, but, in 2022, we heard all this as part of the truckers’ convoy that came through Winnipeg. They parked (and honked) at the provincial legislature, close enough to our home so we saw their signs and hateful rhetoric.

I Googled the phrase on the man’s sign. Turkey’s President Recep Tayyip Erdogan started using this phrase in November 2023. It’s been used repeatedly in the last 2.5 years of the Gaza conflict. Knowing a phrase’s “origin story” doesn’t make it less virulent. It still didn’t feel OK. Something can be legal, but also shameful, wrong or antisocial, bad behaviour.

As a family, we debated whether we should do a police report. In Winnipeg, it’s not that easy to report something like this. There’s an online form, but it specifically rejects claims due to hate crimes or speech. In situations like this, there is calling 911 to report it or going downtown to the only police station that takes these reports. We chose to leave this one up to B’nai Brith, but the situation remained fresh and upsetting.

First, there’s the debate over whether something hateful and harmful is illegal or immediately dangerous. Our city’s police service is overburdened. Everyone in Winnipeg has heard of someone who has called the cops and been told that, unless the situation was life threatening, no police would show up. This means that squatters without life-threatening weapons aren’t immediately tossed out of vacant homes – but then the homes catch on fire. In one awful case, a panicked teen, trying to protect his grandmother, called the police during a home invasion. He was killed before the police arrived. This horrific incident puts our hate-signage sighting in perspective.

Second, though, is the question of whether we (Jewish people) or teens walking home from school deserve to feel safe. This man wasn’t walking in front of a consulate or legislature in protest. He was near multiple schools, a library, a synagogue, several churches, a hospital and a care home. If bubble legislation existed in Canada or in Winnipeg, it would have been possible to report this and expect a police response. As things stand, it didn’t seem forthcoming.

This incident reminded me of a conversation I had at Kiddush lunch at synagogue. A Jewish family at our table insisted, in alarm, that Bill C-9 (the one for federal bubble legislation) would interfere with their right to free speech. I asked how often they wrote for the press or how this risked interference with their current modes of protest. I asked if they felt that their right to protest was in jeopardy. When I Googled them later, I found that they don’t write widely. Their names don’t appear in the news regarding protests. Their right to free speech or protest was likely not being threatened in any way. It seems they had fallen prey to misinformation. At the table, I brought up multiple incidents that our children face as they leave a public school and walk home past our congregation.

When a protester is outside the synagogue just after school lets out, the police say that it’s public space. The protest is allowed, even though the signage blocks the sidewalk. Kids walking by are exposed to potential hate speech, and normalizing hate speech or graffiti can lead to acts of violence. This kind of protest first happened about two years ago, but, this spring, the signage on a man’s jacket left us in the same quandary.

Well-intentioned allies have asked, “Do you feel safe?” or “What can I do?”

The answer to the first question is, “no.” There are a lot of reasons for that. For one thing, I’d like my kids to be able to walk home without feeling threatened or having to dodge protesters or shoot photos.

I regularly encounter non-Jewish Canadians who ask the second question. I try to help them learn more about the issues, so they feel ready to be “upstanders” rather than just “bystanders.” Calling the police, paying privately for huge amounts of security or shielding children from hateful protest shouldn’t be something Jewish Canadians navigate alone. We’re less than 1% of the Canadian population. It’s necessary to educate and mobilize allies to help.

Political “free speech” can be legal and still hateful. A society that speaks up can make change, even if the offender isn’t arrested. Education happens when we say, out loud, that some behaviours are shameful and un-Canadian. Bad behaviour affects all of us. It’s time to find adults willing to speak up. If somebody wants Jews to feel safe in Canada, then the status quo is not what they want either.

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.

Thankful for the police

Communities are not built in theory. They are built in presence. They depend on people feeling safe enough to walk through the door, to gather, to participate, to be visible.

Judaism is not something we observe from a distance. We gather. We show up. We pray together, learn together, and support one another in real and tangible ways. Some of our most sacred prayers require a quorum. When people do not feel safe enough to walk through our doors, our way of life and our community itself are at risk.

I felt this during the COVID pandemic. I brieﬂy returned to the Jewish Community Centre of Greater Vancouver the day after it had closed. The temperature outside was nearly identical to the day before, yet, inside, the building felt profoundly different. It was not just empty. It was cold. The absence of people had stripped the space of its soul. A body without a soul is not life.

In the months following Oct. 7, 2023, I feared that feeling would return. Not because of a public health crisis, but because of something more insidious: fear, intimidation, extremism. The kind of pressure that makes people hesitate, questioning whether it is safe enough to attend school, synagogue or community programming. When that happens, the consequences are not abstract. They are immediate and deeply human. A community begins to shrink, not by choice, but by necessity.

Leadership in these moments requires clarity. We do not retreat. We do not disappear. And we do not accept intimidation as the cost of living openly as Jews.

That resolve is made possible by those who stand watch so that we can stand together.

Across British Columbia, officers from the Vancouver Police Department, the RCMP and other security services have maintained a consistent presence outside Jewish schools, synagogues and community institutions. Their role is not symbolic. It is practical, preventative and deeply human. It allows parents to send their children to school with confidence. It allows seniors to attend services without hesitation. It allows a community to remain visible.

One officer said something that has stayed with me: “I don’t weigh in on politics. I’m here to protect everyone. But, if I can choose between being spit on or being hugged, I’ll take a hug any day.” That simple statement speaks to the humanity behind the uniform, the quiet dignity of service, and the emotional toll that often goes unseen.

Jewish tradition teaches that saving a single life is considered to have saved an entire world. Protecting our community means safeguarding thousands of those worlds. Not buildings. People.

Jan. 9 is recognized as Law Enforcement Appreciation Day. Most people do not mark it on their calendars. But, for communities like ours, the sentiment behind it is not confined to a single day. For our community, every day is Jan. 9.

At a time when law enforcement officers face criticism, threats and, at times, violence simply for doing the work we rely on, it matters to say this clearly: gratitude is not political. It is human. It must be voiced, not assumed.

To those who stand outside our schools, our synagogues and our community spaces, ensuring that we can continue to gather safely and openly, we say thank you. Strong communities do not endure by accident. They endure because people show up and because others make it possible for them to do so.

Ezra Shanken is chief executive officer of the Jewish Federation of British Columbia.

UBC needs a wake-up call

I am graduating and, somehow, my school, the University of British Columbia, feels more isolating than ever. This campus prides itself on the ideas of critical thinking and open dialogue. But, right now, it feels like neither is being practised. Instead, I see a culture where misinformation about Israel and the Jewish people spreads easily, where hateful slogans replace dialogue and where Jewish students are intimidated and harassed for expressing their Zionism and connection to Israel as an integral part of their Jewish identity. More than that, it feels like expressing these views comes with a social cost – one that many students quietly calculate before deciding whether it is even worth speaking at all.

I’m a Jewish student at UBC. And I’m done pretending this is normal.

Universities are supposed to be spaces where ideas are tested, challenged and debated openly. My four years at UBC have shown me that certain perspectives are treated as inherently unacceptable before the conversation even begins. If freedom means anything, it must include viewpoints that fall outside dominant campus narratives, including Zionist perspectives.

The role of campus groups and student politics cannot be ignored. UBC Staff for Palestine and the way BDS (boycott, divestment and sanction from Israel) is promoted within spaces like the Alma Mater Society elections are not just frustrating. They reflect a campus environment where hateful and discriminatory movements and campaigns are tolerated and normalized.

While BDS is framed as a progressive, justice-oriented movement, it seeks to end Israel’s existence and strip away Jewish rights to self-determination. If BDS were to achieve its political goals, Israeli Jews would either be killed, ethnically cleansed or forced to live as an oppressed minority. According to an official BDS handbook, campus divestment is merely a “stepping-stone” to larger-scale boycotts and other measures aimed at ending Israel’s existence. This hateful and destructive movement is experienced by most Jewish students as contributing to an environment that marginalizes and endangers the campus community.

At its core, this is where the disconnect becomes impossible to ignore. A movement presented as advancing human rights dismisses the legitimacy of a Jewish homeland altogether. When that position becomes the norm on campus without any serious scrutiny, it is not political activism but the legitimization of hate and exclusion.

It is also worth asking why this issue dominates student political spaces in the first place. In a world full of ongoing conflicts and humanitarian crises, Israel is consistently singled out in student government discourse with false and misleading accusations. It does not feel like a coincidence or a legitimate concern for human rights, but rather a pattern of disproportionate focus that shapes how we are perceived and treated on this campus.

These narratives often leave no room for nuance. There is no space to acknowledge complexity, no willingness to engage with perspectives that don’t fit a predetermined frame, and no recognition that calling for the dismantling of a Jewish homeland has real implications for Jewish students on this campus. BDS, for instance, actively tries to shut down Israeli-Palestinian cooperation and dialogue.

You cannot claim to advocate for justice while erasing the legitimacy of other people’s existence. And yet, that contradiction is increasingly accepted here at UBC.

Students like me are excluded from conversations that directly affect them. Discussions about our own homeland often unfold without any Zionist Jewish perspective present. And, many of us are hesitant to speak up, not because we lack arguments, but because we know how quickly disagreement is shut down or mischaracterized.

And there is one final point that cannot be ignored.

The rhetoric and imagery that have surfaced within anti-Israel activism on this campus go far beyond political critique and cross into something far more disturbing. Slogans, symbols and messaging that frame violence as “resistance” or elevate martyrdom are not abstract ideas. For Jewish students, they are not theoretical – they are deeply personal, and they create a real and growing sense of fear for our safety on campus.

When violence is normalized or even implicitly justified, it sends a message about whose lives are seen as expendable. That is not activism. That is not justice. And it has no place at a university that claims to value safety, inclusion and critical thought. UBC cannot continue to ignore this.

What kind of campus we are willing to accept? One where certain students feel unsafe, unheard and pushed to the margins, or one where difficult conversations happen without crossing the line into dehumanization? Right now, we are closer to the former.

A university should not act as an ideological gatekeeper. Its role is not to decide which perspectives are acceptable, but to ensure that all students can participate in good faith without fear of exclusion or intimidation.

UBC, it’s time to wake up.

Avigail Feldman is a fourth-year student at the University of British Columbia, completing a bachelor’s in political science, and set to begin a master of management. She is also a StandWithUs Canada Emerson Fellow.

Recalling a shining star

My mother, Joyce, met my father, Bernie, at a dance at the Jewish Community Centre in Vancouver. She was selling tickets. He just wanted to talk to her, but she sent him upstairs to check out the other young women at the dance. He did, then came right down and asked her out, even though she told him she had two children and was in the middle of a divorce.

photo - Joyce Freeman with Ria, her first grandchild — Joyce Freeman with Ria, her first grandchild. *(photo from Cassandra Freeman)*

My mother was both elegant and beautiful. When I was a child, she ran a “model and poise” class for teenagers out of Kerrisdale Community Centre. My sister and I modeled there for an audience when I was about 4 years old. Later, I did some ballet on stage as well, with my partner from the dance school. I still remember how nervous I was, but it was so much fun.

I grew up with the many people in the house my mother invited over. They were from all over the world and spoke English, Hebrew, Arabic, Russian, Serbo-Croatian, Spanish and other languages. (Looking back, I see why I chose to get a degree in international relations!) Mom would literally ask people she met shopping or on the street back to the house for dinner. A lot of them were single and lonely.

My dad worked as a court reporter and often had late hours, so refused to go out. My mother, therefore, had parties at home. I remember pancake and waffle brunches with at least 50 people going in and out. The toppings were cherry, pineapple, strawberry, blueberries, peaches and, of course, whipping cream and syrup. All my friends from the neighbourhood would be there, too.

My friends got an education in Judaism, including the Jewish holidays and the basics of keeping a kosher kitchen. One friend, Madeleine, credits my parents for her choice of a career that involved prosecuting war criminals. I’m guessing that’s because dad was a court reporter and she learned about the Holocaust from us.

I was thrilled when my mother invited the National Ballet of Canada company over for dinner after their performances – if my Uncle Sam had not been performing with them, she might have done it anyways.

I remember two things about the dancers. One was that they seemed to go back to the table and eat at least three times. The second was that, even though they were athletes, they didn’t have a hope when playing table tennis in our basement. Apparently, they had little hand-eye coordination. I remember meeting Karen Kain. She said I had a nice straight back and should continue to dance – and she left me all her beads.

My mother had good friends she would call almost every day. One was my godmother, Helen Friedman, who became like a grandmother to me. We spent a lot of time together. I took on her left-wing perspective and voted NDP for a very long time. She was also a feminist with a capital “F” and I took that on, too.

Growing up in my parents’ house, it was like all three of us kids – Devorah, Tzvi and me – ate social justice for breakfast. Now I see that this was clearly the ancient Jewish tradition of tikkun olam, healing the world. My sister said I had it so bad that, at age 8, I wrote to the Vancouver Aquarium and demanded they let their whale go back into the ocean.

My mother was clairvoyant. She taught me how to send her a psychic message about what I wanted for lunch on my way home. I normally got what I requested but that’s likely because I either wanted macaroni and cheese or a salami sandwich. My father says that, when we kids left home, my mother could make us call her at will, which I believe.

Mom’s favourite psychic story was about Dad and Grandma. Dad would come home from work and say, “Joyce, I don’t know why I bought that.” And Mom would say, “Oh, Grandma wanted that.”

I inherited my mother’s ability to communicate with spirits. Just before my Uncle Steve’s funeral, I was ironing. He said, “Hurry up and get to the funeral.” Mom got a message from him, too. During the transmission, it feels perfectly normal. Sometime after Uncle Sam died, I got an energy hug from his spirit. It didn’t diminish the sadness, but it was comforting.

At some point, my mother began doing I Ching readings for guests and family. I have her I Ching book and display it proudly. It is a book of strategy above all. It doesn’t tell the future, as most people think. It says that, if you are in this situation, you should do this; if you are in that situation, you should do that. It’s difficult to read but my mother was smart and seemed to know exactly what it was saying, even if it talked a whole lot about princes and generals and varied states of mind.

The other thing Mom did was cook – and she is famous for it. I remember helping her by cutting cucumbers. They all had to be about one-eighth of an inch thick or they were no good.

My mother got sick when she was 40 and was never really well after that. She had become a Chabadnik, which I believe helped her with the pain.

We knew when she was going into hospital because she would cook meals for us and put them in the freezer. In her late 70s, she was diagnosed with a cruel disease called Supranuclear Palsy. They tried a Parkinson’s pill, but it didn’t work. Mom died, at age 84, just as the sun was setting, bringing in the first night of Passover. We recently marked her yahrzeit.

A few days after she died, both my sister and I got the same message from her spirit. She said, “I am skipping.” I took this to mean she was ecstatic at being without her painful body. Now, I imagine she is a shining star in the universe. And that’s how I remember her.

Cassandra Freeman is a Vancouver storyteller and improviser.

Is it the end of an era?

The landslide defeat of Viktor Orbán and his Fidesz party in the recent Hungarian parliamentary elections could herald a seismic shift in European and global politics. Or not.

There were many issues at play in the election, obviously, including pocketbook economics and other domestic matters. Overseas observers have focused on Orbán’s “illiberal democracy” – his hacking away at free media and other institutions that tend to be measures of democratic health. It bears noting, to his credit, that as undemocratic as Orbán may have been in office, when he was defeated, he accepted the peaceful transition of power without apparent reservation.

The Hungarian election outcome is notable because of the era it could bring to a close. Orbán’s election in 2010 is viewed in retrospect as a major milestone in the advance of far-right politics in Europe.

Orbán did not invent European far-right politics, clearly. His election, though, was a major breakthrough and served as a model and inspiration for other movements, including those outside Europe, like figures in Latin America, as well as Donald Trump, who went so far as to send his vice-president to Hungary in an unashamed bid to shore up support for the Hungarian leader in the final hours of the campaign.

Something else Orbán may not have invented, but which he and his government exemplified and honed, was an ambiguous, somewhat cunning approach to Jews and the Jewish state.

Jews, put mildly, have a history with European far-right politics. Even sensible non-Jews are conscious of this third rail. Neutralizing the echoes of that history – or at least casting its veracity in doubt – is essential to legitimizing contemporary far-right politics.

Being pro-Israel has been a calculated and expedient position for figures like Orbán. In the sense that support for Israel fits into a xenophobic European narrative that sees Israel as a bulwark of Western civilization, there is something more transactional going on. Far-right pro-Israel politicians are often militantly anti-Muslim, supporting Israel less because they endorse Jewish self-determination than because of the adage that the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Contemporary Israel is a model for them of defiant nationalism facing down (not coincidentally, Muslim) threats, which justifies some of their own domestic policies.

Support for Israel can also serve as a reputational shield. Supporting Israel in their foreign policy can deflect allegations of antisemitism – even in cases where leaders and grassroots supporters have deeply problematic records of antisemitic rhetoric. In many countries, Jews serve as a wedge in centre and left politics, pitting more vulnerable communities against one another as those in power deflect attention from charges of corruption or the results of bad policies and other inequalities that plague societies.

Pro-Israel politicians who deny charges of antisemitism often engage in anti-Jewish dog whistles like conspiracy theories about “globalists,” “elites,” “the Epstein class” or George Soros, in which linguistic stand-ins for “Jews” allow just enough plausible deniability. Orbán perfected this strategy, using the Hungarian-born Jewish billionaire Soros as a scapegoat, with overtly antisemitic undertones.

In France, Marine Le Pen’s National Rally presents itself as pro-Israel and protective of French Jews. But many Jews and analysts question whether this is a tactical strategy to “mainstream” the party, which was founded on explicitly antisemitic premises by Le Pen’s father, Jean-Marie Le Pen.

The far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD) party routinely attacks the Holocaust memorialization culture in Germany and tolerates antisemitic rhetoric in its ranks, while its pro-Israel foreign policy puts a twist in its ideological pedigree. But the AfD’s commitment to Israel looks to many observers like a qualified alliance based on Jews fitting the party’s anti-Muslim civilizational story.

Austria’s far-right Freedom Party, founded by former Nazis, has attempted to soften the hard edges of their anti-Muslim immigration policy with what some have termed a “charm offensive” toward Jews, especially relating to support for Israel.

The opacity of parties with problematic, antisemitic individuals taking actively pro-Israel stands has blurred conventional lines in politics and apparently created some confusion in the Jewish community. At a time when voices defending Israel are so rare, some Jews welcome anyone who expresses anything that can be construed as something like empathy.

Above all, foreign policy is a place where alliances are commonly as tactical as they are principled. Notably, the government of Israel plays this game, too. Last year, far-right European figures were invited to a conference on combating antisemitism. (Many mainstream Jewish leaders stayed away.)

Whether Orbán’s downfall is a Hungary-specific phenomenon or whether it might portend a waning of the European extreme right and those forces around the world will be known only over time. Either way, what will it mean for Jews and the Jewish state? That, too, remains an open question – one that Jewish communities need to keep trying to better understand and be more strategically positioned to respond to.

The only sure thing is that Jews and Israel will remain tools in the hands of self-interested politicians, one way or another.

Taking life a step at a time

Feeding teenage boys healthy, homemade food is no joke. It’s a marathon and not a sprint. Every time, I start with “Where did the leftovers go? Did you eat them all?” and “What else can I possibly throw together from the produce in the fridge and meat in the freezer?”

For anyone who is immersed in household routines, food production easily moves from creative enjoyment to drudgery. This morning, I pondered what to make for dinner, as I walked the dog. Just like the need to think up meals, the dog walk feels heavy, each step weighing me down. Then I hear a noise and look up to see Canada geese migrating home. It’s a sign of spring and, after a long winter, a sign of joy.

We’re experiencing what looks like a failing ceasefire, ongoing wars and, in North America, ongoing antisemitic upheaval. I feel I have that sentence on repeat. The situations change but the worry about world conflicts and about friends and family remains. I’m afraid to invest in commenting on today’s news because tomorrow, we’re still going to wrestle with these issues, but the specifics will change. I feel swamped by it, and I’ll guess that I’m not alone in that.

I continue to study Daf Yomi, a page of Babylonian Talmud a day. Lately, I’ve been trying to follow the rabbis in Menachot, as they cover the particulars of grain sacrifices and how they were carried out in the Temple. The Second Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed just under 2,000 years ago, and these rabbis were discussing this more than 1,500 years ago. On one hand, the rabbis’ debate feels important – they worried that, should the Temple be rebuilt, they would need to understand and replicate these sacrifices. On the other hand, the incredible level of nuance in these discussions feels over the top. It’s way past “How one loads the dishwasher” and up there with “How do you clean out the sink drain?” and “Do you sort coffee grounds from tea leaves in your compost?”

It’s between these extremes that a lot of spiritual discussion happens. It’s something like “We are but a grain of sand on an endless beach” and, at the same time, “Listen to your heartbeat, as its beat is the centre of the universe.” As individuals, our lives are nothing in the eternal universe and, also, we are the centre of everything all at once.

I get mired in the minutiae, particularly when it comes to household management. Societally, this is common for middle-aged moms with kids at home. This past week, we bought our kids an old-fashioned clock radio, in hopes they would wake up on their own. Despite the clock, their dad goes in first to tell them to wake up. I come in 15 minutes later, to rouse them again. This morning, something occurred to me as I sang “Modeh Ani” at high volume to my teenagers and then a little Paul Simon, “Oh, my momma, she loves me, she loves me, she gets down on her knees and hugs me, she loves me like a rock!” (I can be annoyingly loud and cheery in the morning.) Maybe, even at 7:15, my boys like seeing us do this. Maybe these will be things they remember. Maybe this is how they are reminded that their parents love them.

Slogans that urge us onwards, to do “great things,” like “How we spend our days is how we spend our lives,” can really rub me the wrong way. After the raucous wakeup, I was outside, dressed and walking the dog 15 minutes later, wondering if this meant that picking up dog poop or reminding a kid not to forget his lunch was indeed how I’d spend my life. In a “loud” world full of people who boast of big world-changing endeavours, where does that leave me?

Some people I went to school with are, indeed, in big important positions in business or nonprofits, making change in the world, and that can make a person feel small and hopeless. The notion of tikkun olam, or fixing the world, feels far off. This umbrella phrase is a concept consisting of many individual mitzvot (commandments). It’s misleading and too broad when the individual commandments (visit the sick, provide food for the poor in your community, etc.) are accessible. Example: I saw a new mom of twins feeling desperate online. I knew, from experience, how to help.

“You can do this,” I wrote. “Take it one feed, one diaper change, one snack and one nap at a time. Take all the help you are offered. Think forward but only to the next thing you have to do.”

When I was in the trenches, alone, with my twin infants, I felt furious when smiling people said, “Enjoy it! It will all go by so quickly.” It was painful and slow, like being a grain of sand on an endless beach. Now, though, as I jostle my teens off to school with their lunch bags, I’m reminded that we can do big things, like raise a whole new generation, through these small details.

The rabbis spent a lot of energy trying to reconstitute what Temple sacrifice looked like. This seems a bit much to me until a kid loses his brand new, handknit mittens. Suddenly we’re retracing our steps, calling the places where he might have left them, and getting into the nitty-gritty. These little steps, how we spend our days, are, I believe, how we find our humanity. The global conflicts and issues change, but, if we can just focus on doing these small tasks for others, we can make enormous change over time.

It’s OK to be annoyed, bored and frustrated by all of life’s mindless tasks. That’s a real feeling that many of us share! It’s legitimate. Now, though, I have to go make chicken meatballs, with onions and dill and matzah meal in them, for supper, which we’ll have with potatoes, sweet potatoes, beets and a salad.

These endless details? They’re about nothing. They mean everything.

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.