Opinion – Page 75

Beyond the binaries

The concept of intersectionality recognizes that multiple forms of oppression and discrimination can impact individuals at the same time. For example, African-Americans experience systemically and socially both economic disadvantage and racial discrimination. Black women face an addition layer of intersectional oppression and black LGBTQ people add homophobia to the mix.

Intersectionality can be problematic for the Jewish community. As we have discussed in this space previously and will again, despite historical realities, Jewish people are often perceived by others as an advantaged, rather than a disadvantaged, minority. It does not take long on the sort of online forums where the term intersectionality is commonly used before stereotypes of Jewish power show up. Similarly, Zionism is seen by some not as the realization of an indigenous rights movement for self-determination that it is, but rather as a form of colonialism.

In one of the most self-evident examples of intersectionality’s potential blind spots, the intersection of Palestinian rights and gay rights begets ludicrousness like Queers Against Israeli Apartheid, which makes common cause with extremists who throw homosexuals off roofs in order to condemn the perceived colonialism and myriad other “sins” of Zionism. Very frequently, in the discourse found in some far-left circles, antisemitism is dismissed because it does not fit the ideology of those who determine where the intersections are. Or, rather, it is made to not fit.

This is too bad, because selecting which humans are eligible for inclusion in a human rights movement based on immutable characteristic is, by definition, a human rights movement founded on false premises.

Of course, social theory and the real world are disparate points on a spectrum. A beautiful real-world example of something we might term intersectionality took place last week here in Vancouver.

Bernard Richard, British Columbia’s Representative for Children and Youth, spoke at the ceremony for the awarding of this year’s Janusz Korczak Medal for Children’s Rights Advocacy. He observed that it might be difficult for some people to see the parallels between a Jewish Pole who died in the Holocaust and a social worker and activist who is a Canadian First Nations woman. But the inspiring intersection of these two lives makes eminent sense.

Dr. Janusz Korczak, as regular readers know, was a hero of the Holocaust who chose to accompany the 200 children in the care of his orphanage to their deaths in Treblinka, despite the Nazis offering him a reprieve. But he is a hero not only for the way he died, but for the work of his life. Seen as the originator of the children’s rights movement, Korczak insisted on the recognition of children’s innate humanity – rather than merely their potential – and insisted on seeing children as individuals fully deserving of respect and self-determination.

Far away in time and place, Dr. Cindy Blackstock insisted on the rights of indigenous Canadian children. A human rights complaint she initiated, which took nine years to wend its way through the byzantine structures of federal institutions, resulted in a January 2016 decision that Canada has consistently discriminated against the 165,000 aboriginal children who live on reserves, and their families, by systemically underfunding services to those children and youth based solely on their identities.

Blackstock was awarded the annual Korczak medal for exemplifying the values of Korczak in advancing children’s rights.

In her acceptance speech, Blackstock spoke of walking in the footsteps of ancestors and others who came before. Korczak and Blackstock are both models for all who seek to advance the condition of children in the world. It is impossible to imagine what future greatness may be inspired by their examples. A Polish Jewish man, Korczak effectively invented a concept that is now entrenched in United Nations testaments to the rights of the child, affecting the lives of potentially every child on earth. An indigenous Canadian woman, Blackstock shepherded a human rights challenge that will improve the lives of every child living on reserves in Canada, and their families.

Someday, who knows when or where, these two examples will inspire some other individual to stand up where injustice and inequality intersect with some other group of people. Then that individual will themselves become a model for others.

Obligation to be hospitable

Imagine, for a minute, that you’re throwing an open house for a children’s sports team. You’ve invited a lot of people. You don’t know them all. Yet, you’re the host. It’s a beautiful, sunny, warm day. You’ve set up your yard for a party. The lemonade and cookies are out, the welcome banner is flapping in the breeze.

As people drift up your sidewalk, you see they’re nervous or ill at ease. “Welcome!” you say, and your family smiles at them. “Come on in. Join us.” You offer them food and drink. Then, you ask guests gentle, kind questions. “How long has your kid been playing soccer with our team?” or “Where does your kid go to school?” “Have you met our dog?” and so on.

Before long, you’ve learned new things about these strangers. You’ve made a few connections. As other people join the party, you lead a parent, Gabriel, over to talk to Morley, who shares Gabriel’s interests in dog training or hockey. You help all these people to relate to one another. Then, they can begin friendships. Soon, they will be hosting the next encounter – for their new friends and acquaintances.

Many people are rusty at this kind of face-to-face socializing. In the social media age, we “friend” people online long before we meet in person. We’re more likely to chat online than we are to approach strangers in person. It’s a cultural shift that can make people feel more awkward and self-conscious when they actually get together in person.

If you’ve never moved from one community to another, you’ve got family and friends built in – people who likely knew you in kindergarten or as a teenager with acne. These are longtime friends. You don’t have to do any work to know them. Why bother meeting new people?

Because we’re obligated as Jews to be hospitable. It’s our obligation to make new connections with others! (Both Jews and non-Jews.)

I recently heard a great story about a Passover seder. A young Jewish woman from Indiana was studying and working in London, and alone for the holiday. She followed the Twitter feed of London-based CNN reporter James Masters. He tweeted and asked if anyone needed a seder to attend. Samantha Gross, an intern with the Evening Standard, responded. She thought he was offering to find her a spot somewhere at a community event. Instead, he and his wife picked her up and brought her home to a Pesach table with grandparents and the kind of family love and embrace that really moved her. (To tears, although she claimed it was the horseradish!)

A Winnipeg congregation, Shaarey Zedek, is sponsoring a special speaker next week named Dr. Ron Wolfson. I could claim that I’d read everything he’s written (not true). I could boast that my mom has taken classes with him (true) and that he’s spoken at my parents’ Virginia congregation (true). I could mention that he’s collaborated with Rabbi Larry Hoffman (true) who came to speak at Winnipeg’s Temple Shalom recently (true), and whose daughter went to summer camp with me long ago (true). However, none of that background or Jewish geography matters.

What matters is that Dr. Wolfson is coming to Canada to speak – and it’s well worth reading his books or finding a way to hear him in person. Why?

What he teaches is a profoundly Jewish message. It’s about building relationships and connections that might be new, and take work. For many Jews, going to shul is like going home – most of the people there are your family and friends, you’ve known them forever. It takes no work to relate to them. However, our society is transient. There are a lot of newcomers at every congregation. We need to do both the right thing and the Jewish thing, and practise “audacious hospitality.”

What’s that? Well, in Genesis 18:1-18, there’s a story that is uniquely ours. Abraham and Sarah are in their tent when three strangers walk by. Abraham rushes out to them, welcomes them in and, with Sarah, he helps them wash and offers them food and hospitality. Abraham knows what it is to be a traveler and to be hot, tired and hungry. He knows that he should reach out, it’s the right thing to do.

The strangers (angels) bring messages to them. One is that even though they’re old, Sarah will have a child and Abraham will become the patriarch to a great and populous nation.

The message is clear. It’s incumbent upon us to be like Abraham and Sarah, and like Masters’ family, too. We need to welcome others, build real relationships with them, and offer them our (Jewish) hospitality. This may make all the difference. Will we be Abraham’s “great … nation” or lose Judaism to assimilation?

Ten years ago, I was invited to participate in an interfaith “green” religious service. The interim Anglican priest who ran the service bumped into me at the farmers market a few days later. I thanked her for the opportunity, and invited her to my Shabbat table. That was her very first dinner invitation in Bowling Green, Ky., and the start of many more happy hours at my table and hers. We are still good friends. She told me that it figured a Jewish person would be first to “invite her in,” as Abraham and Sarah did.

This pastor (and friend) both reminded me and taught me more about my obligation to be hospitable as a Jew. Abraham knew how to do this. It’s high time we did, too.

Joanne Seiff, a regular columnist for Winnipeg’s Jewish Post and News, is the author of a new book, From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016. This collection of essays is now available for digital download, or as a paperback from Amazon. See more about her on joanneseiff.blogspot.com.

Failure is a possibility

Israeli culture does not encourage failure; rather, it is somehow more tolerant and accepting of it. (photo from Shutterstock.com via Israel21c)

When was the last time you admitted you failed? Have you ever felt comfortable talking about your failures? How often do you use the word “failure” in daily life? How does even thinking about failing make you feel?

Legendary American football coach Vince Lombardi once said, “It’s not whether you get knocked down; it’s whether you get up.”

This reminds me of a cult TV show that I used to watch growing up in Israel, Zehu-Ze (That’s It). It had a character by the name of Yatzek, who discovered interesting places all over Israel and the kids watching the show had to guess where he was.

At the end of each episode, Yatzek would fall in a different way: from a tree, into the river, from the back of a horse, and even into cow manure. Naturally, the kids who were watching would be concerned. To reassure them, he always said, “Kids, no need to worry: Yatzek always falls and gets back up.” An entire generation of Israeli kids grew up with this strong message on a weekly basis.

I believe our culture has a very strong influence on our failures and, mostly, on our attitude toward these failures.

In late 2006, I joined the founding team of Modu. Modu was founded by serial entrepreneur Dov Moran, who previously led M-Systems to one of the biggest mergers and acquisitions in the history of Israeli high-tech. In a very short time, Modu raised more than $120 million, recruited more than 200 employees in Israel and abroad, opened a few subsidiaries around the world, and developed and manufactured two consumer products. All elements for success were present and yet, only three years after its inception, the company closed its doors.

But many Modu employees decided to start their own start-ups, including me. Out of this one big failure, dozens of new business ventures were initiated. How could it be that people who were part of such a huge investment in time, energy, resources and sacrifices were not discouraged after being part of a failed start-up? Rather, they decided to invest more energy, take more risks and start ventures of their own. This is a bold move, since statistically 90% of start-ups fail and the 10% of start-ups that make it are likely to fall apart along the way.

What is it that drives people to try despite the risk of failure? Is it possible that people’s level of comfort with failure is somehow related to their culture, as demonstrated by Yatzek, the crazy character that kept falling and getting up?

The Oxford Dictionary defines failure as “lack of success.” You have either succeeded or failed. It’s a binary game. On the other hand, if you look at the definition of failure in Hebrew, it is much more fluid: “someone that tripped, made an error, did not succeed.” Our language is a mirror of our culture. Informal messaging plays a major role in the values we learn from a very young age.

In Hebrew, adolescence or teenage years are referred to as “the foolish age.” At this age, people tend to act without thinking, resulting in many failures. Therefore, the terminology only reflects their inherent nature. When society regards them as such, as evident in Israel, it gives young people the chance to follow their natural way and experience what might be regarded as foolish – before they become young adults.

Even the Israeli military seems more tolerant of failures relative to other military organizations worldwide. The Air Force Academy teaches how to cope with failures as an essential part of regular conduct drills. After every single flight, the crew gathers in the “investigation room” and the pilot debriefs on what was successful and what was not, in front of a squadron of 40 fighters. The focus is on learning from mistakes and not to make the same mistake twice.

Israeli culture does not encourage failure; rather, it is somehow more tolerant of it and accepts it in such a way that we keep getting back up, trying, moving forward and advancing.

On a personal and professional level, I admit, I fail at least once a day. From this, I’ve learned that one of the things that really makes me happy is that my children are growing up in Israel, where we have the unique ability, as a culture, to look at any event head-on, success or failure, and discuss and learn from it.

I wish all of us could give our kids the understanding that the process is sometimes more important than the outcome, that failures are part of life and that what really matters is how you pick yourself up.

Don’t be afraid to fall. Let your kids fail, too. Just make sure to teach them to get up and never stop trying.

Inbal Arieli was a lieutenant in the elite Israel Defence Forces intelligence 8200 unit and later took leading roles in the Israeli high-tech sector. She is a senior advisor to Start-Up Nation Central and is currently co-chief executive officer of Synthesis. Featured as one of the “100 Most Influential People in Israeli High-Tech,” Arieli is working on an exploration of how Israeli culture breeds entrepreneurs from a young age. Israel21c is a nonprofit educational foundation with a mission to focus media and public attention on the 21st-century Israel that exists beyond the conflict. For more, or to donate, visit israel21c.org.

A healthy relationship

An interesting exchange occurred last week between four members of Israel’s Knesset and a Diaspora Jew who warned them that Israel risks losing the support of people like her.

In a forum in Boston, an audience member said Israel had responded disproportionately during the 2014 Operation Protective Edge.

“You are losing me and you are losing many, many, many people in the Jewish community,” the audience member warned. “I want to know what you are doing to make peace with the Palestinians.”

Amir Ohana, a Likud MK, made clear where he stood. “War is horrible. I lost friends, I lost family,” but the audience member was ignoring the thousands of rockets sent from Gaza to Israel, he said. “Each and every one of them [was] targeted to kill us. And if I will have to choose between losing more lives of Israelis, whether they are civilians or soldiers, or losing you, I will sadly, sorrily, rather lose you.”

Rachel Azaria, an MK belonging to the Kulanu party, was similarly critical of the American’s approach. “One of the challenges is that when you’re thousands of miles away, it looks simple,” she said. “To think that we enjoy living in terror and living with our rifles, we hate it. We all hate it. But we can’t seem to find a solution that will keep us strong and sheltered.… If it would be easy, we would be there … I wish reality would be easier, God knows I wish, unfortunately it’s not. And that’s something we need to live with every day of our lives in Israel.”

So, who is right? The alienated Diaspora Jew, or the members of Israel’s parliament? Unsatisfyingly, but perhaps appropriate Jewishly, they all are.

Israel has to make decisions based on the security of Israel, not on the emotional well-being or political ease of Diaspora Jews. Likewise, Jews everywhere have an obligation to stand up when they perceive injustice.

These two positions may seem antithetical, but they are not necessarily. Israelis and Diaspora Jews have always had a deep connection. Both in the state of Israel and in the Diaspora, political ideologies span the gamut. But particular issues and events, like the 2014 war, can exacerbate conflicts in the relationship. Ultimately, though, if we consider Israel and the Diaspora not as two entities but as Klal Yisrael, these disagreements are part of a dynamic discourse that is not only unavoidable, but necessary.

Diaspora Jews frequently criticize Israel and sometimes Israelis act as though these voices are not welcome. Yet the Diaspora provides financial and political support to Israel and, more importantly, the Law of Return means that every Diaspora Jew is a potential citizen. This means something.

And, while Azaria is correct that sometimes things can look overly simple from a distance of tens of thousands of kilometres, it is conversely true that distance can give perspective. Israelis and Diaspora Jews should listen to one another, not reject alternative voices.

Still, as at least one MK noted, it is not the children of Diaspora Jews who are conscripted into the Israel Defence Forces. It must certainly confound some Israeli parents to hear their North American or European cousins complaining about this or that Israeli policy while their own children are on the frontlines of the latest conflagration with Hamas, or are patrolling dangerous neighbourhoods in the West Bank.

Just as politics in Israel is combative and engaging, so it is – and it should be – in the Diaspora. We do not need to agree on everything, but some syntheses should develop that allow for dialogue and progress.

While we fret about the state of Israel-Diaspora relations, though, we should perhaps be more concerned about a different development. We may be heading for a schism that makes our past differences pale.

A new generation of Jews coming up in the Diaspora is much more critical of Israel and tends to be more dovish than their parents or grandparents. There are exceptions, of course, but the young Jews who blockaded the AIPAC conference recently represented a growing cohort, not a diminishing one. Some of their critics say these young people have been taken in by the anti-Israel propaganda on campuses and lack the courage to stand up to it. This may be true in some cases but, by and large, this is a dismissive and insulting suggestion. The different perspectives of young Jews are a real phenomenon and something that leaders – in Israel and around the world – need to respect and respond to.

Above all, we should not fear dissenting voices, but welcome them as part of the Zionist discourse. It is heartening to remember that the degree of passion expressed on all sides of this debate is a symptom of intense engagement. Disinterest would be a far greater threat to Jewish and Israeli life.

What now, with arrest?

A teenager was arrested last week in relation to the scores of bomb threats against Jewish institutions throughout North America and elsewhere. There was widespread relief over the arrest, on the assumption that most, if not all, of the threats had emanated from this one individual.

There was also astonishment and heartbreak, though, when the alleged perpetrator was identified as a Jew with dual American and Israeli citizenship. Very little is known beyond the basic facts of the arrest and that the young man, who lives in Ashdod, in southern Israel, has a brain tumour that affects his cognitive abilities.

The bomb and other threats, the graffiti, hate materials and cemetery desecrations experienced in various parts of the world recently have combined to create a sense of unease unprecedented in the memory of most North American Jews. If a young Jewish man was indeed the cause of much of this anxiety for so many, how are we supposed to respond to this news? Would we prefer it were a Ku Klux Klanner who did these deeds? Does it make a difference?

Certainly it makes a difference.

Rational or not, there is more of a sense of shame, betrayal and even fear. And, as a commentator wrote in the Forward, there is the question, “Will people take seriously future antisemitic threats, or will our concerns be dismissed if it’s another Jew who is responsible for them?” This idea – that future threats to our community could be dismissed because these repeated incidents emanated from a Jew – is threatening in itself.

The arrest brought confusion for many. How to respond? If these deeds were the doings of a Jew, is it antisemitism, or something else? The Anti-Defamation League was unequivocal.

“These were acts of antisemitism,” said Jonathan A. Greenblatt, chief executive officer of the ADL. “These threats targeted Jewish institutions, were calculated to sow fear and anxiety, and put the entire Jewish community on high alert.”

While it remains to be seen what personal, ideological or other motivations may have inspired these (and other) threats, their impacts are clear. The arrest does not erase the experiences of parents rushing their children out of swimming pools or seniors hurrying to evacuate buildings.

Beyond this, though, the sad circumstance is part of a larger narrative. Not only have current events given people with antisemitic ideas apparent permission to express these, we see the president of the United States hesitating and equivocating in condemning antisemitism and, worse, openly engaging in discriminatory statements and actions against Muslims and Mexicans.

Neither is the social disease of discrimination absent in Canada, as demonstrated by anti-Muslim comments and threats over – ironically – a parliamentary motion against Islamophobia, as well as the anti-Jewish remarks of some Muslim clerics in Ontario and Quebec.

But, Canadians can be proud of at least one thing. As British Columbia’s NDP leader John Horgan said in an interview with the Independent (see jewishindependent.ca/b-c-ndp-leader-talks-with-ji), these incidents have encouraged our elected leaders and ordinary citizens to stand together to reiterate our commitment to diversity and tolerance.

The best antidote to the bad things we see in the world is all of us standing up to do more of these good things.

The work is not solely ours

Music is an amazing tool for learning. When I was a kid, I learned a lot of Jewish music. It wasn’t choir music, or strictly for prayer. No, I learned “everything” Jewish through music. I sang parts of Pirkei Avot (Sayings of our Fathers), Israeli pioneering songs from kibbutz life, Torah verses, Israeli pop songs and commercials, and even, yes, a lot of liturgy.

It happened on autopilot. I wasn’t forced into anything. There was no strong emphasis on performance. It was “Naaseh v’nishmah,” “We will do and we will hear.” (Exodus 24:7) When you participate and enjoy singing, sometimes the words sink in. I remember my mom putting on records (of Jewish music) and I’d roll around the living room rug, listening and singing.

When Christian classmates were busy memorizing Bible verses to earn rewards at church, they’d ask me how many I could recite. I had no idea what to say. “Oh,” I’d say, “We don’t do that.” We did do that, I realize now, but it was so intuitive, so much a part of our daily experience, that I never even noticed what was happening. I knew the words, in Hebrew and English. I understood them, but I never thought of it as reciting religious text. It was part of a summer camp song session, or a regular Sunday at religious school, or in the prayers we sang at services.

Years later, I still have that musical memory bank. It comes in handy. Recently, exhausted and stressed, I was able to sing along without thinking when someone introduced a new tune at services. It might have been new to others, but I’d heard it before. I also used this treasure trove to dig up something I needed to think about – work/life balance.

Rabbi Tarfon said the day is short and there’s a lot of work, and the workers are lazy and the reward is great and the master of the house is pressing – it’s not your responsibility to finish the work, but neither are you free to desist from it. (Pirkei Avot 2:15)

I remembered the whole quote by hearing a bit of the tune in my head. Suddenly, I was singing to myself on the street as I walked to an errand. I went home to look it up on sefaria.org, an online nonprofit that offers open-source access to Jewish texts.

The bigger issue that I wrestled with was that of work and community involvement. How much is enough? How can we decide where to invest our time and why?

I don’t think of myself as a big volunteer, but lately I’ve become overwhelmed. I had to reduce my volunteer load. Managing my work, household, kids, community commitments and health felt like too much. Only one thing might need more time – an extra freelance job, a couple kids sick with viruses or a volunteer gig – and the whole tower of cards will tumble.

As a relative newcomer to Canada, I cannot call up a family member in the neighbourhood or a longtime friend to bail me out. Our extended families are far away. Although some friends might be able to help, they, too, are caring for kids, juggling jobs, etc. It’s my observation that many newcomers feel this way. The process that recruited them to Canada felt very positive, but after that? It can be a daily struggle. It’s hard to find a place in a community where long-established families have strong roots.

So, what does Rabbi Tarfon have to do with this? Well, this song helped me realize that, while I felt deep responsibilities towards my commitments, I couldn’t “finish them” on my own. I could work, volunteer and try to help, but our effort has to be a communal one. It’s not all my personal responsibility – and if my health or family’s well-being is at stake, that has to come first.

Bringing a good attitude to the work we do is important. We can’t all be like the curmudgeons on the Muppets. Those grouchy men are the ones who sit in the balcony, scowls on their faces, as they criticize all the other Muppets who put on the show. Instead, we need to each do our share, because the grouchy puppets in the corner aren’t contributing.

We have to stop ourselves when our efforts to contribute become too much, too taxing and risk our well-being. When we start criticizing everyone else? It’s time for a break – because we aren’t finishing all that work by ourselves, in any case.

What we are doing is contributing to a whole, healthy (Jewish) community. And, if you keep reading, Rabbi Tarfon says, “If you have learned much Torah, your reward will be much.” This is an interesting circular argument. The rabbi suggests we work hard, and we do our share. Then we’re rewarded for our learning. Guess what? My reward for stepping back from volunteering was more time to study Rabbi Tarfon’s wisdom. I learned it again – and now offer it to you. That’s a sign of a healthier work cycle.

Joanne Seiff, a regular columnist for Winnipeg’s Jewish Post and News, is the author of a new book, From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016. This collection of essays is now available for digital download, or as a paperback from Amazon. See more about her on joanneseiff.blogspot.com.

Some civil discourse basics

There should be a word for the phenomenon where an individual comes to mass public attention only when their reputations are imploding due to impolitic remarks on social media. Milo Yiannopoulos, a former editor of the far-right Breitbart news, was just cresting his 15 minutes of fame as a flamboyant right-wing provocateur when he discovered that words can still get one in hot water. Only as his credibility, such as it was, flamed out did his name become anything close to a household word.

Likewise, a Canadian figure few of our readers had probably heard of until he melted down in an online video is Gavin McInnes. A comedian, online commentator, co-founder of Vice Magazine and – here’s that term again – right-wing provocateur, McInnes is also a contributor to Ezra Levant’s Rebel Media.

On a trip to Israel with other members of the Rebel outfit, McInnes posted a lengthy spiel about his reaction to a visit to Yad Vashem, the Holocaust remembrance centre. He apparently felt the visit was an exercise in Jewish propaganda and declared that, far from making him sympathetic to Jewish history, it had the opposite effect.

The Israelis he met, he said, “assume we’re going to listen to all this s–t we get fed.… That’s having the reverse effect on me: I’m becoming antisemitic.”

He added: “I felt myself defending the super far-right Nazis just because I was sick of so much brainwashing.”

Israelis, he said, have “a whiny, paranoid fear of Nazis,” and “it’s a Jewish thing” to dwell on the past.

“This whole nation-state is talking about ‘Seventy-five years ago, my people were killed,’” McInnes said. “Always the Jews, always killing us, we are the scapegoats.… God, they’re so obsessed with the Holocaust. Yes, I know it was bad – don’t get me wrong, I’m not pro-Holocaust.”

He went on to accuse Jews of perpetrating the Holodomor, Stalin’s deliberate Ukrainian famine that killed between seven and 10 million people in the 1930s.

As McInnes was getting more than his share of attention, another Canadian was receiving a mixed reception from campus crowds in Ontario.

Jordan Peterson, a clinical psychologist and a tenured professor at the University of Toronto, gained some notoriety last fall when he posted video reflections on aspects of human rights law that he said could potentially infringe on free speech. Most notably, he refuses to use non-gendered pronouns (such as zhe, instead of he or she) in his classroom. Peterson is a critic of what he calls “compelled speech.”

Peterson is hardly as inflammatory as Yiannopoulos or McInnes. Agree or disagree, his positions are intellectually rooted and debatable, not beyond the pale of civil discourse. Yet he never really got a chance to speak at McMaster University because he was drowned out by a chanting group of students who shut down his event. That his message was one of free speech is an irony, though one apparently lost on some university students these days.

In any event, he was met with a far more amenable crowd the next day at the University of Western Ontario. According to media reports, even some who came to protest were pleasantly surprised to find themselves agreeing with Peterson once they heard what he had to say.

Regardless of what these men had to say, though, the idea that their ideas should be silenced, rather than contested, is a societal problem in itself. Things would be different if we did not have a diffuse media universe; if every individual did not have more access than ever before to express themselves; if, as some conspiracists allege, the channels of communication were truly limited to a powerful few. But they’re not.

Every Canadian can participate in the national discussion. First, we can listen, like the students at Western and unlike those at McMaster last week. Second, we can express our own views when we hear ideas that challenge ours. (We have a right to do this as vociferously as we wish, but we have a complementary responsibility to do so civilly.) Third, we can defend the right of those with whom we disagree to speak and be heard – within the limitations Canadians have broadly consented to acknowledge as appropriate to peace, order and good government.

These three steps are about as simple a description of civil discourse as can be distilled. While there is much discussion about free speech, it is valuable to bear in mind that we, as Canadians, have it. This should not be taken for granted, of course, because these freedoms were hard won and should be defended. But rights must also be exercised to be valuable.

The response to disagreeable ideas is not less speech, but more speech. Listen, express, defend. Never in history has an individual had more accessible avenues to sharing their opinions and ideas. Free speech has never been freer. Please use it for good.

Active Jewish millennials

If the occupation is going to end with the help of North American Jews, it will be owing to the growing force of millennials who stand up not only for their own rights, but the rights of others.

One of these individuals has taken to social media via a series of parody videos to get her message across. As Avi Does the Holy Land prepares to launch its second video-log season, I’ve been thinking about its creator, Calgary-raised Aviva Zimmerman. When I was first alerted to “Avi’s” Facebook page, I admit I was fooled. “Arab workers literally BUILDING the Tel Aviv boardwalk. And they call us a racist country?!! #TelAviv #coexistence,” she wrote. I nearly shot back in anger to the mutual friend who had acquainted us, before taking a closer look. Satire is supposed to cut close to the bone, and that’s certainly what Avi Does the Holy Land does.

In the v-log’s first season, “Avi,” a sexed-up Canadian Jew who “went on a Birthright trip and fell in love with Israel,” skewers Israeli treatment of liberal Zionist critics, Israel’s shoddy treatment of Eritrean and Sudanese asylum seekers, Tel Aviv’s party scene as counterterrorism policy and Israeli LGBTQ policy as used in the government’s PR campaigns. A successful Indiegogo campaign for season 2 has now expanded to raising funds for a live show.

“Avi” is one type of millennial Jew – though, of course, a larger-than-life version. The differences in opinion and action among millennials regarding Israel, however, are real, ranging from those trying to burnish Israel’s image abroad via an uncritical look at the country to those trying to tarnish every image of the country. But there is a healthy cadre of young Jews deploying a sense of solidarity with their own, as well as with the oppressed.

Some young Jews are gravitating to Open Hillel, to encourage a more pluralistic discourse about Israel on North American campuses, or to the Centre for Jewish Nonviolence, which takes young Jews to the West Bank for projects in solidarity with Palestinians resisting settler encroachment. At the University of British Columbia, there’s the Progressive Jewish Alliance, which bills itself as “a group of progressive Jews committed to creating a new, vibrant, independent Jewish space.”

And there’s IfNotNow, whose anti-occupation mission has expanded into resisting the many moves of Trump’s administration. IfNotNow declares on its website, “Just as Moses was commanded to return to Egypt and fight for the liberation of his people, we, too, feel called to take responsibility for the future of our community. We know the liberation of our Jewish community is bound up in the liberation of all people, particularly those in Israel and Palestine.” Recently, IfNotNow created a hashtag called #ResistAIPAC. “When the Trump Administration Goes to AIPAC, the Jewish resistance will be there to meet them,” the site says.

With the message of Passover soon upon us again, we might best consider how to raise children whose connection to Israel can be transformed into one pushing for rights and freedom for all.

Mira Sucharov is an associate professor of political science at Carleton University. She is a columnist for Canadian Jewish News and contributes to Haaretz and the Jewish Daily Forward, among other publications.

An opportunity lost

Mykhailo Chomiak edited a Ukrainian-language Nazi newspaper in occupied Poland. It happens that Chomiak was the maternal grandfather of Chrystia Freeland, Canada’s foreign minister.

This fact is a matter of historical record, but apparently Russian operatives were shopping the story around as if it were fresh – and as if they believe Canadians will hold Freeland, and perhaps by extension the Liberal government, responsible for Chomiak’s past.

A writer on the Canadian online media outlet rabble.ca went so far as to accuse Freeland of a cover-up, which is nonsense, since she was acknowledged for her help editing an article on the subject that was written 20 years ago by her uncle, John-Paul Himka, an historian.

Freeland called it “public knowledge that there have been efforts, as U.S. intelligence forces have said, by Russia to destabilize the U.S. political system.… I think that Canadians, and indeed other Western countries, should be prepared for similar efforts to be directed at us.” She is absolutely correct. Russia almost certainly was involved in the U.S. presidential election and may indeed be responsible for the fact that Donald Trump is now in the White House.

Nevertheless, it seemed like a missed opportunity for Freeland not to use the chance to acknowledge some of the complexities and complicities around her grandfather’s history.

Let’s step back for a moment and realize that Canadians are relatively fortunate that, whatever enormous sacrifices Canadian families made during the Second World War, the war itself never reached our shores. For families in Europe at the time, many of whose descendants are, through immigration, now Canadians, the war impacted every aspect of civilian life. Possibly millions of people are responsible for acts of heroism or betrayal that are lost to history. Had it not been for the writings of a member of her own family, Freeland’s grandfather’s story might have been another largely forgotten piece of that war’s far-encompassing awfulness.

Who can estimate how many Canadians have ancestors who engaged in complicity (or worse) with Hitler’s regime, or with Stalin’s, or with any number of less-renowned tyrants and bad ideologies worldwide? We do not rest from seeking redress for the worst crimes during history’s worst times, but behaviours that do not constitute war crimes have rarely received the full attention of the media and public that Chomiak’s case has garnered in the past days. And we certainly do not – and should not – place any blame at the feet of grandchildren for events that took place before they were born. Freeland has done absolutely nothing wrong.

Still … she could have done something better. She could have (and perhaps by the time you read this, she will have) turned this into a teaching moment for Canadians.

The parents or grandparents of some Canadians may have chosen to, or been forced to, engage in actions we see as abhorrent. We cannot change the past. But we can potentially make a better future by acknowledging it, openly identifying wrongs and committing ourselves to better actions than that exhibited by some of our forebears. As examples, present-day Canadians have begun a process of reconciliation around the genocide perpetrated against indigenous Canadians, and Canadian governments have apologized for actions against Japanese-Canadians and the passengers of the Komagata Maru and the MS St. Louis.

In Freeland’s case, she is right to warn Canadians that Russia is attempting to undermine the credibility of our country’s foreign minister. But she should go further and insist that no Canadian – whether the country’s top diplomat or a new Canadian who was sworn in as a citizen yesterday – is guilty of acts undertaken by their grandparents. A few words about the complexity of historical memory could also be helpful. And it would be valuable for the federal government to make a firm public declaration that blackmailing or smearing a Canadian based on the acts of an ancestor will fail in its mission.

More crucial issues at hand

Islamophobia and antisemitism have again reared their ugly heads this year, including with mosque burnings and desecrations of Jewish cemeteries in the United States. In response to the attacks on the St. Louis cemetery, Muslim-American activist Linda Sarsour helped launch a crowdfunding campaign to help rebuild. A few days out from its March 20 closing, launchgood.com had raised more than $160,000 – its goal was $20,000.

Sadly, some in the Jewish community – in both the United States and Canada – have sought to discredit Sarsour and her gesture of solidarity. I have seen accusations of Sarsour being an antisemite and of supporting Hamas, so I’ve been spending time trying to dig up the proof. But no one who levies these charges seems to be able to produce a shred of evidence.

Here’s what I did see: a two-minute video circulating in the right-wing blogosphere, which is meant to incriminate Sarsour. But there was nothing incriminating in the video. Sarsour even mentions Israel’s “right to exist,” something that landed her in hot water, ironically, with some in the Palestine solidarity movement. As Haaretz reported, she has actively told her followers to avoid using antisemitic language when criticizing Israel’s actions in Gaza, calling that kind of discourse “unacceptable.”

She is accused of shilling for Sharia law. I have seen her make tongue-in-cheek remarks about Sharia, pining for better maternity leave in America and forgiven credit card debt. It seems right-wingers could use a sharper irony sensor.

Finally, I have seen a photo showing her posing in a group with someone who apparently had ties to Hamas. She herself has denied Hamas ties. It’s tough to accuse someone of supporting a group when she denies all links. She doesn’t sound like a very loyal or helpful supporter to me.

Now, she is certainly no Zionist. In 2012, she tweeted, “Nothing is creepier than Zionism.” She supports BDS (boycott, divestment and sanction of Israel) and a one-state solution. If that’s the full and entire body of actual evidence linking Sarsour to the unsavoury views of which she’s accused, then we need to focus on that alone.

Is it beyond the pale to oppose Zionism? And is BDS antisemitic? According to the U.S. State Department’s definition of antisemitism – which relies on the “3 Ds” definition: demonization, delegitimization and double standards when it comes to Israel – one could argue that, in its opposition to Zionism (which, in its current manifestation, precludes Palestinian refugee return), it is. The trouble is, the 3 Ds definition of antisemitism is hugely problematic. It implies that opposing a particular ideology – even one that strains under its own weight to maintain ethnic privilege within a democratic framework – means that one is promulgating hatred of Jews. The logic just doesn’t hold up.

So, without actual evidence for Sarsour’s so-called antisemitism, I smell a toxic brew of Islamophobia and misogyny. A strong, vocal Muslim-American woman with a Brooklyn accent who stands at the podium of the half-a-million-strong Women’s March on Washington (which she co-chaired) and mentions that she’s her occupied-territories-residing grandmother’s “wildest dream” might just be a bit much for those who think Muslims deserve to be taken down a notch or that Palestinians living under occupation are not deserving of basic rights.

If that’s what it is – Islamophobia and anti-Palestinian prejudice – then I wish they would just say so. It would give me more time to devote to other matters rather than asking for evidence where none exists.

Speaking of antisemitism, we should be asking why President Donald Trump took so long to condemn recent antisemitic incidents, humiliated a Jewish reporter who politely challenged him on this, and appointed a top advisor – Steve Bannon – who is linked to trafficking in antisemitism and other forms of racism. And we must ask why the forces of antisemitism and Islamophobia have been so rapidly unleashed. We must stand together against all forms of antisemitism, Islamophobia and racism, as Sarsour would have us do.

Mira Sucharov is an associate professor of political science at Carleton University. She is a columnist for Canadian Jewish News and contributes to Haaretz and the Jewish Daily Forward, among other publications. A version of this article was originally published by CJN.