Opinion – Page 83

Why are you attached to Israel?

I was recently invited to speak to an Ottawa-based Israeli-Palestinian relations group on the topic of Canadian Jews and Israel. Unfortunately, there is a dearth of public opinion data available on Canadian Jewish attitudes. We have some broad strokes on identity issues, though. In addition to Conservative Judaism – rather than Reform – being our largest denomination, Canadian Jews, compared to American Jews, are one generation closer to the Holocaust, are more likely to speak Hebrew, educate their kids Jewishly, and to have visited Israel. Most central to my talk though, was how Canadian Jewish institutions are responding to attempts to challenge Israel as a Jewish state, including the boycott movement.

A lively Q&A followed, but there was one question that stopped me in my tracks. What is it about Israel, a man asked, that makes you feel attached to it? He seemed genuinely curious and rather puzzled, so puzzled that he asked it twice.

Being in the field that I am in, I have a ready answer, but I know I am not typical. My own attachment to Israel centres primarily on a deep passion for Hebrew and Israeli culture. I lived in Israel for three separate years in my 20s, I speak only Hebrew to my kids, I alternate my Netflix watching with Israeli dramas and I am as likely to binge listen to “The Last Waltz” as to Kaveret’s final concert album. My daughter’s d’var Torah at her bat mitzvah was the only one I’ve heard reference Arik Einstein lyrics. Of course, the attention I devote to Israel is partly a function of my profession, but I chose my area of study based on a great sense of attachment to the country and a desire to understand how the Israeli-Palestinian region can become a more just and humane place.

But what of my fellow Canadian Jews? Those of my parents’ generation, who grew up in the shadow of the Holocaust, might view Israel as an insurance policy in the event of the unthinkable. Religious Jews might feel a profound spiritual connection to the land. But what of the many less religious Canadian Jews of my generation (and younger), those for whom Canada, with its absolute commitment to freedom, tolerance and multiculturalism is as safe a haven as any they could imagine; those for whom particular stones on particular bits of territory are not understood to hold sacred meaning, and for whom Hebrew or Israeli contemporary culture is not something that pulls them?

What does Israel mean to these Jews who are unlike my parents, unlike religious Zionists and unlike me?

I encourage my fellow Canadian Jews to articulate their attachments. Doing so with nuance and open hearts may help uncover new political arrangements. Maybe it would point to two states, maybe a confederation system where everyone has access to all the land but possesses citizenship in only one state (as Dahlia Scheindlin and Dov Waxman have proposed), and maybe even a single state where both languages and cultures are carefully preserved. We should ask what threat, exactly, does refugee return pose, rather than leave it as an imaginary bugaboo. Being explicit about our emotional ties – while being open to hearing the emotional experiences of others – may bring us closer to supporting creative peace efforts.

A postscript. A survey of the Canadian Jewish community is currently being circulated by Jewish Federations of Canada-United Israel Appeal, and British Columbians can respond online via svy.mk/20qCWb7. The survey is being conducted by David Elcott and Stuart Himmelfarb, both of New York University’s Wagner Graduate School of Public Service. As I recall, there is only one question on Israel, which asks whether the respondent feels “attached” to the country. Attachment is associated with many different perspectives, and says nothing about one’s commitment to human rights for those under Israel’s control, for example. I hope that we may soon see more in-depth survey research on Canadian Jewish attitudes towards Israel and its policies.

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. This article was originally published in the CJN.

It’s OK to boycott BDS

The Anti-Defamation League, one of North America’s most prominent Jewish advocacy agencies, has taken a stand that is at odds with the consensus position of almost all other local, national and international Jewish and Zionist organizations.

Responding to the BDS movement, which strives to boycott, divest from and sanction Israel, and which is condemned by some as being founded on antisemitic premises, most Jewish organizations have stood emphatically in opposition to the movement.

Governments have also come out against BDS. The government of Canada passed a motion in Parliament in February, condemning “any and all attempts by Canadian organizations, groups or individuals to promote the BDS movement, both here at home and abroad.” Just in the last year, nine U.S. states have enacted anti-BDS laws, which generally prevent state government departments and agencies from doing business with organizations that support BDS. Similar legislation may come to the U.S. Congress.

The ADL’s position, which has been slammed by the Zionist Organization of America, is that the issue comes down to free speech.

“A decision by a private body to boycott Israel, as despicable as it may be, is protected by our Constitution,” wrote Abraham Foxman last year, when he was the national director of the ADL. “Perhaps in Europe, where hate speech laws exist and are acceptable within their own legal frameworks, such bills could be sustained. But not here in America.”

There is no question that the American political tradition falls very heavily on individual rights and free expression. Canadian and European approaches tend to balance individual and group rights. Free speech, sacrosanct in American constitutionalism, is limited by law in some cases in Canada and other democracies if it is seen to possibly incite hatred against individuals or groups.

The United States has its unique constitutional history and relationship with free expression and the Jewish organizations in that country can be left to argue these issues among themselves. As Canadians, we would contend that, in fact, countering the BDS boycotters by boycotting them is not an infringement on free expression, but rather an entirely logical extension of it.

When the House of Commons passed the anti-BDS motion last winter, it was an expression by members of the House that the movement was founded on ideas that are selective, misguided and potentially discriminatory. The motion did nothing whatsoever to legally forbid those ideas and their promulgation. They merely condemned them.

The idea that state or other governments would forbid their departments and agencies from investing in or doing business with organizations that promote BDS may seem heavy-handed. A government is not the same thing as a business or a church. People can quit a church or disagree with the policies of the business by voting with their dollars. A government represents all of its people. But governments also, by definition, must take stands on the issues of the day. By rejecting the BDS movement, governments are doing precisely that. Voters will have the opportunity to endorse or repudiate those positions at the time of the next election.

Boycotting the boycotters, which is effectively what nine U.S. states have chosen to do, is fair game. We have made the case before in this space that one person’s free speech does not erase that of another person. When an individual or group expresses an ugly idea, in a democracy, it does not abrogate their rights if another individual or group speaks up to condemn the ugly idea.

Whether legislation against BDS is the most effective means of combating BDS is open to debate.

Foxman argued that education, lobbying or persuasion may be the more effective long-term strategy. In our view, legislation and education need not be mutually exclusive.

B’nai Brith and IJV face off

The Jewish community is seeing mud being slung again. B’nai Brith Canada has come down hard on Independent Jewish Voices (IJV). The latest salvo, which came via email blast as the Jewish Independent was going to press, contended that IJV has taken part in Al-Quds Day events in Toronto. Before that, B’nai Brith claimed that IJV “promotes Holocaust denial.”

With regard to the latter accusation, B’nai Brith, also via email blast, called attention to IJV having posted an article by blogger Alan Hart about antisemitism and anti-Zionism, which had been republished on a website called Veterans Today. That website – Veterans Today – evidently engages in Holocaust denial.

A statement by IJV issued on June 8 takes responsibility for the error. “We thoughtlessly linked to Hart’s article on the Veterans Today site. We acknowledge that our oversight in this respect was lax: we didn’t verify the nature of the Veterans Today website.… For that, we apologize to our members and supporters for our carelessness. IJV has now removed that link.”

IJV campaigns coordinator Tyler Levitan told me by email that, “while we are guilty of a very small number of regrettable social media posts over the years – out of thousands of articles we’ve posted – that linked to decent articles reposted to indecent websites, this by no means makes us in B’nai Brith’s words, a ‘fig leaf for neo-Nazis and antisemitism’ [a quote which appeared in the Canadian Jewish News]. That’s pure slander. We are in no way connected to anything on the right, let alone the far-right.”

Levitan then came out swinging. “B’nai Brith, on the other hand, has had very close relations with far-right Christian fundamentalist groups and individuals, such as John Hagee, who promote homophobia and bigotry. Their CEO Michael Mostyn used to be the director of the neoconservative advocacy group Canadian Coalition for Democracies. Their connections to the far-right of the Canadian political scene are literal, not imaginary.”

In response, Mostyn told me by email, “I am proud of my prior work with the Canadian Coalition for Democracies, especially its advocacy on behalf of persecuted groups such as North Koreans, Middle East Christians and Baha’is in Iran.” Mostyn added that B’nai Brith Canada “does not have any current affiliation with John Hagee.”

Following IJV’s apology, B’nai Brith issued another community-wide communications statement attempting to further impugn IJV’s reputation. It didn’t help that elsewhere Hart has apparently issued conspiracy theories. This, too, Levitan responded to, saying in the email interview, “we certainly do not subscribe to his political views regarding 9/11.”

What seems to be going on here is a regrettable discursive war over Israel fought by other means. Dov Waxman’s recent book Trouble in the Tribe: The American Jewish Conflict Over Israel details the acrimony taking place on the topic of Israel across the American Jewish community. On this score, the Canadian Jewish landscape is little different.

Better than issue smear campaigns against those who don’t hew to the mainstream Jewish community perspective, the Jewish community should be debating the issues at stake. How to end Israel’s 49-year long occupation of another people? What kinds of security assurances does Israel need in order to bring that era to an end? What are Israel’s obligations under international law? How can the refugee issues be resolved in a just way? How can Israel institute full equality between its Jewish and non-Jewish citizens?

These are issues that would be very worthy of more discussion. That said, two lessons can be learned here. First, organizations should be careful about with whom they associate. If conspiracy theorists are going to undermine the message – and, to most ears, they will – organizations should find other ways to raise issues than relying on questionable sources. And, if cozying up to the far-right is going to help portray an organization as being out of touch with its constituency, then it, too, should be careful about with whom it rubs shoulders. If, on the other hand, these allies are understood by the organization to be representative of their values, then that is also an important opening for discussion so community audiences can decide with whom to cast their lot.

To this end, I would like to encourage IJV and B’nai Brith Canada to take their feud out of the realm of email blasts and counterpunches and into the realm of policy questions. Perhaps a public debate hosted by the two organizations over mutually-agreed-upon questions with regard to Israel and the Palestinians would be apt. I know that I, for one, would tune in.

Serving with the RAF in Egypt

The author and fellow servicemen at a moral leadership course in Fayid, Egypt, in 1951. (photo from Alan Tapper)

It was the spring of 1951 and I was serving in the British Royal Air Force in the Suez Canal Zone of Egypt. I was one the many hundreds of thousands of young British conscripts sent to Egypt to replace the local workers, who had been told by their government to leave their jobs servicing the British military there. While these men did menial jobs, the work provided them a subsistence wage, which they lost by leaving. Times were difficult.

photo - Alan Tapper served in the British Royal Air Force in 1950-51 — Alan Tapper served in the British Royal Air Force in 1950-51. *(photo from Alan Tapper)*

I worked for the air force intelligence unit. My job was to document all the incidents that took place in an area from Iraq to Egypt. There were a large number of shootings, disturbances in villages and casualties, both Egyptian and British.

Drug smuggling was also an issue. Habbaniya in Iraq was a British air force base at the time, and part of our command. The unit I was in also employed local Arabic-speaking trackers for intelligence work. Hashish was the drug of choice then and a tracker with the RAF once brought back some to our office for airmen to sample at the end of a cigarette.

I was based in Ismailia, in northern Egypt, on the edge of an airfield. I lived in a tented compound where the locals regularly fired volleys of bullets into the base. They were indiscriminate. Not a pleasant experience.

I also worked in the civilian labor office, where I discovered information on the large number of Jewish people from different countries living in Alexandria and Cairo. My job entailed monitoring all previous applications forms and that’s how I found out that there were many Jews in the region, both Ashkenazi and Sephardi, who had worked for the British forces during the Second World War.

Even though the nominal head of Egypt at that time was King Farouk, the British government had a colonial attitude and controlled the whole of the Suez Canal Zone from Port Said to Suez, with army and air force bases throughout the area. Britain knew the strategic importance of this waterway to countries of “the Empire.”

Fifty years later, the British government recognized the effort of the conscripts who served in Egypt by giving us a Suez Medal. They were going to charge us 50 pounds for the medal, but changed their minds after the uproar the idea caused. Regardless, I’m glad to have served, and I still have the medal. I wear it at Remembrance Day ceremonies.

I was in Egypt for 16 months. One of the most memorable parts of my time in the Suez Canal Zone was when I attended a moral leadership course organized by the Jewish chaplain to the British Armed Services in Fayid, Egypt, during Pesach 1951. It was attended by Jewish servicemen stationed in the area and special Pesach food was brought in for the seder and the festival. It was a wonderful experience to meet fellow Jews in – of all places at Passover – Egypt.

Alan Tapper is a local freelance writer. His work has been published in the Vancouver Sun, Province, Courier, National Post, among others, as well as the Jewish Western Bulletin, now the Jewish Independent, and online publications. His first story was published in the London Evening Star when he was 14.

Particular and universal

Vigils, like this one in Minneapolis, were held across North America to express grief and solidarity with the victims of the shooting in Orlando. (photo by Fibonacci Blue)

Still reeling from the latest gun attack in Tel Aviv, which killed four people last week, we awoke Sunday to the horrific news from Florida that a gunman had murdered 49 people in a gay nightclub in Orlando.

We whose job it is to put feelings into words struggle, though it seems nobody on social media lacks an opinion on gun control and the Second Amendment, homophobia or Islamic extremism, to which the murderer professed allegiance.

Immediately began the familiar cycle of Facebook solidarity, official condemnations and vigil-holding. President Barack Obama, who on the last such occasion of mass death declared, “Enough!,” had to conjure something original to say in this instance.

It is a peculiarity of the American political and cultural system that such tragedies are, it seems, accepted as a sad but unavoidable fact of life. Vested interests in the gun industry, which fund the powerful National Rifle Association, control members of Congress and have a not-insignificant base of grassroots Americans.

The murderer had been on the radar of intelligence authorities, yet he was able in the last two weeks to legally purchase a Glock pistol and a long gun, as was apparently his right as an American citizen.

When, in 2012, a gunman killed 20 children in Sandy Hook elementary school in Connecticut, some thought that would be the turning point, the moment some sense of sanity would be applied to guns in the United States. Nothing of substance changed and, if not then, it probably never will. Indeed, gun sales increase after such incidents, as the Wild West of American founding lore finds new life in the 21st century – self-preservation through firepower.

There are perhaps few who can as readily empathize with the LGBTQ community as members of the Jewish community. Jewish individuals and institutions are routinely targeted in Europe. Such incidents are far fewer but not non-existent in Canada and the United States. The ghosts of the 1994 Jewish community centre bombing in Argentina haunt us still. And Israelis are routinely attacked and killed by terrorists.

Though thousands of kilometres away from Orlando, the gay community and allies in Vancouver came together for a vigil Sunday night, as they did across North America. When an attack like this takes place against a small minority, it has particular resonance for members of that group even if they have no immediate connection with the victims. As a newspaper, we join with Jewish institutions and individuals in Canada in expressing grief and solidarity with the victims, the survivors and their loved ones, as well as with the entirety of the LGBTQ community here and everywhere.

After such tragedies, it sometimes seems that the particularity of the victims is downplayed to glean a universal lesson for humanity. We hear phrases like “injustice for one is injustice for all.” In his remarks Sunday morning, Obama said: “This is a devastating attack on all Americans.”

This is a necessary and true statement, but we shouldn’t only universalize our solidarity. The shooting was a deliberate, targeted attack on gay people and Obama’s remarks included articulate expressions of solidarity with the LGBTQ community. He did not, for example, make the same mistake he did during the Paris attacks, when he referred to Jewish victims as “a bunch of folks in a deli.” The Jewish particularity of the victims in Paris and the particularity of the Orlando victims’ sexual orientations must be recognized in order to confront the prejudices that underlie them.

Value in letter-writing

I used to be a father. I still am, and now I’m a grandfather, too. But it’s a load I can handle because the job description is just about identical. It calls for inspiration – of young minds and young hearts, especially of grandkids who live farther away and, therefore, consider themselves relatively safe from my constant inspirational messages.

Despite TV, video games, tablets and smartphones, and an environment humming with electronic messages, we Jews honor and cherish the printed word. We still are the People of the Book. Give us a pencil (or a pen) and a piece of paper, and we’ll find something to say.

So, I write a lot of letters to my grandkids. For still less than 50 cents – it goes up most years (no competition will do that) – you’re able to send a large number of words written on several pieces of paper. And, for a few more cents, a wise grandfather, besides advice and family gossip, can include a candy bar, a stick of gum, a newspaper clipping or a baseball card to lure the young mind into the civilized joy of correspondence. What teacher ever taught successfully without incentives? It’s a trick I learned years ago from the Cracker Jack people. They marketed candy with cheap, fragile toys. I market family pride.

I use wiles of all kinds to encourage my younger kin to rip open their envelopes with frantic enthusiasm. “Wonder what he sent this time? Maybe, if I write back today, he’ll send me another Hershey bar.”

Yes, Hershey bars are great. Nice and flat for mailing, but they have their disadvantages in July, unless you live in Nome and your granddaughter hangs out with her kids in Anchorage.

Kids love letters with or without sweet bonuses. They love their name in big, bold letters on the envelope. They love the ritual of sorting through the mail and throwing the discards on the floor before finding their letter.

And, like I say, I rarely write without including something that is either amusing, edible or ethically fortifying. My favorites are clippings from my local newspaper (human interest stories, we used to call them). So educational! They encourage kids to read and observe the world outside of home and school. If you pick your stories with care, you can package amusement and even morality in your envelopes. For example, I just mailed off to eight grandkids the story of a 65-year-old lady who wrote a confession to her high school principal – she cheated in a high school writing course 47 years ago!

My small audience loved it and marveled at her delayed, but full, confession. They had many questions: “Did she have to take the class over? Did she get a punishment? Did they send her a new report card? I assured them she was not punished and maybe – because of her honesty – they renamed the auditorium in her honor.

But my kids usually award the family Pulitzer Prize to the vignettes I call “Pet Saves Family”: the collie who pulled Jamie out of the river, the cocker spaniel who barked and alerted the family to their smoldering home and, of course, the whole category of dog-finds-missing-child stories. We humans, even after we’ve lost the glow of childhood, still have a soft spot for animal rescue stories. It goes back in history to the gabbling geese who saved Rome. A story probably told in a grandfather’s letter of 300 BCE.

We don’t always need burning homes and swollen rivers. Kids of the right age (say over 3 and under 10) love any animal story. Naturally. They love animals. There’s a kinship there of smallness, innocence, helplessness that we don’t relate to as much when we become older and taller, and more cynical.

Just this month, I mailed out a tearjerker that couldn’t fail to warm the juvenile heart. A two-column report of a three-legged dog – a mutt who had lost a race with a truck and forfeited one of his four limbs – who found a lost child. The sheriff and an army of searchers failed, noted the article, but the dog, with only 75% of its limbs, found the missing child.

The returns from my young readers have been overwhelmingly enthusiastic about this theme. “More!” they cry. They want more. But that’s not so easy. I’m at the mercy of the newspaper industry, which is attracted to war, corruption, crime and disease, rather than the uplifting genre of “pet finds child” or other positive news.

Besides the inspirational value, there’s a selfish payoff to my letter writing campaigns: I like the return mail. And, maybe decades from now, when I’m old and my pen trembles on the paper and my poor old grinders are loose and wobbly, my mail will be full of attentive notes sweetened with easy-to-eat Hershey bars. Bread on the waters, you know.

Ted Roberts is a freelance writer and humorist living in Huntsville, Ala.

The pitfalls of Jewish dating apps

It’s rare to find a Jew who hasn’t heard of JDate. Responsible for bringing countless members of the community together in matrimony, a whole generation of young people has grown up taking photos for upload to its hallowed webpages. But 20-something Jews, permanently attached to their cellphones as are most millennials, have many other options now for finding “the one.” Aside from actually meeting people face-to-face (G-d forbid), phone apps are being touted as the way forward.

The apps attempt to connect an array of Jewish singletons – if you both “like” each other, then you can chat. The market leaders, more established JSwipe and new kid on the block Jfiix, promise to connect you with “cool, young and mobile Jewish singles.” As someone who fits these criteria (it’s cool to label yourself cool, right?), I’m here to explain why I don’t believe they’ll achieve their aim. Having lived in London, Toronto and Vancouver, I’ll do this with the help of both personal insight and that of various Jewish young professionals in all three cities.

First, there’s the geography aspect – Jewish dating apps all aim to introduce you to other Jews. Thanks smartphones, but that’s not actually a problem we have. Anyone can tell you how Jews (and other ethnic groups) cluster together in most cities. Simply check out the suburb of Thornhill in Toronto or Golders Green in London if you don’t believe me. In Vancouver, with a Jewish community that a good friend comments is “half a block” wide, it’s not difficult to find members of the tribe. We do, after all, have a shared interest in hobbies such as eating and gossiping – where we find out that supposed strangers are often third or fourth cousins.

This closeness is usually a positive: even if you’re unfamiliar with the specific community or country, Jews, in my experience, excel at inclusivity and making newbies feel welcome. But when it comes to dating apps, it leads to a problem that’s twofold. If you do live in a Jewish area, chances are that you’ll already know other Jews from synagogue, Hebrew school, Birthright or friends of friends. In response to my questioning, a friend in London summed up the issue: “Jewish dating apps are great to keep your parents and grandparents happy, but you end up just swiping left to everyone, as you know them or they’re your best friend’s ex.” So, when you live in densely saturated Jewish areas, mobile apps are needless. And, when you don’t, they aren’t helpful either. One Vancouverite I spoke to, who goes to university in Halifax, remarked, “In my limited East Coast experience, there’s no one on Jewish dating apps. Everyone who shows up is from the States.” It’s little surprise that he set up a profile with Tinder, a similar app but one that’s open to all religions.

This leads me to the second problem with Jewish dating apps: the apps themselves. Certainly, critiques can be leveled at any and all such platforms. One Ontario-based law student refuses to download dating apps, full stop, arguing that people’s profiles are so “planned” and “calculated.” True, the information you put about yourself on dating apps is mostly limited to a line-long bio and several photos, and everyone tries to look their most cultured, well-traveled self in photos. Not only does everyone start to look like clone-like serial vacationers, but it means images, not personality, inevitably end up being the deciding factor in choosing dates.

Jewish apps have somewhat tried to sideline this prioritization of looks with “Jewish preference” tools. JSwipe, for instance, lets you select preferred options for being matched up: you can choose between kosher or not, as well as denominations from Orthodox to Reform to “willing to convert.” This is a pretty rudimentary way of sifting through Jewish singles when you compare it with the fact that people used to put some actual thought into matchmaking those who might work well as a couple. A graduate in Toronto lamented that “everyone’s stopped trying to set up other friends with mutual friends because swipe-based dating apps have become the new thing.” The new thing they are, but a new thing that’s being adopted reluctantly.

Why? I attribute this, in part, to an image problem. The apps aren’t appealingly designed and are more than a little cringe-worthy. Unlike other dating apps with more casual connotations (Tinder) or novel niches (Coffee Meets Bagel), Jewish ones are severely lacking the trendy factor. In my experience, this was because they didn’t seem fun or relaxed, and they certainly didn’t seem like they’d lead to the exciting adventure that dating surely should be. In short: they seemed to be full of people who felt like they “had to” find a Jew. And, depressingly enough, it was difficult to distinguish between whether this hint of dutiful desperation could be attributed to themselves, their parents or even their grandparents.

This is why, for many, the apps are a good idea in theory, but less so in practice. The focus on Judaism implies that if two people’s religious beliefs match up, then they’re clearly compatible. This neglects vital questions such as, “Is this person actually nice?” and “Do we have anything in common bar religion?” And I’d go so far as to say that sticking steadfastly to dating Jews means sticking to your comfort zone, as you’ll likely be from a similar background. But what are your 20s for if not to date people from other walks of life? At worst, dating vastly different people can highlight what you don’t want in a relationship. At best, you’ll gain life experience and learn a ton about different cultures. I say this as someone with a dating history that includes Christians and Muslims, but who, at the end of the day, would love to settle down with someone Jewish.

What doesn’t help in this regard is being warned before a first date with a non-Jew, “You can’t marry him” (thanks, Dad). Any young person will tell you that the more a rule is enforced, the more you want to rebel against it. It’s no different when it comes to dating. Ask pretty much any young Jew and they’ll attest to the pressure we feel from family and community to settle down with a Jewish spouse. It’s easy to joke about, but the joke’s on them when the pressure pushes us away. The burden is too much, too soon. But, Dad, and other parents, just because we experiment in our 20s doesn’t mean we don’t want a Jewish household. I’m sure I will have one eventually – well, we can pray, for my dad’s sake. And you know the guy in Halifax who traded a Jewish app for Tinder? He noted, “My bio has Hebrew in it, so I guess there’s a subconscious hope that it’ll attract Jews?”

Parents, have faith that we’ll come around and maybe, just maybe, we’ll do it without having to resort to mildly dire religion-specific dating apps.

Rebecca Shapiro is a freelance journalist, amateur photographer and blogger at thethoughtfultraveller.com. A recent politics graduate, she manages to maintain bases in London, Vancouver and Toronto, while focusing a disproportionate amount of time planning new adventures. She has been published in the Times (U.K.), Huffington Post (U.K.), That’s Shanghai (China) and ELLE Canada.

Check out JI calendar

It is not even officially summer yet but, because we like to stay ahead of the curve, welcome to our annual Summer Celebration issue (June 10)!

Also ahead of the curve is the weather, which has seemed like summer throughout much of the spring. This has been a glorious boon to we who enjoy the innumerable outdoor activities this region has to offer – even if your choice of outdoor activity is simply relaxing on a patio with a hot or cold beverage.

The mostly warm and dry weather, of course, brings challenges. The danger of wildfires has been horrifically demonstrated by the tragedy of Fort McMurray. We also each have a responsibility to do our part in preserving water resources. A brown lawn, nowadays, is a sign of pride and respect for the environment.

That aside, this summer’s calendar – June, July, August, even September – is choc-a-bloc with ideas for individuals and families of every age to enjoy.

Being the Jewish newspaper, as we are, we emphasize events and activities oriented specifically toward Jewish British Columbians or that are in some way connected with our community. There is a vast array of opportunities and we hope that you will keep jewishindependent.ca bookmarked for at least the next months so the first time a kid or teenager complains of boredom – or when it seems like they have spent time enough on electronic devices – the plethora of activities highlighted here will inspire a fun day. Or a welcome night out sans children.

Last week in this space, we discussed the challenges created by transportation and real estate prices in this region. Throughout the year, in these pages, in other media and in everyday conversations, Vancouverites have a habit of kvetching, particularly during those long wet, grey autumn and winter days. But summer is what really brings out the best in this city and province.

Take some time to put aside the daily worries and woes and throw yourself into some of the superb offerings the city and the region has. Let the Independent inspire you!

Transit is a Jewish issue

For most Jewish-related services – cultural events, organizational meetings, day schools, high school, camps, Jewish social services – travel is required. (photo by Arnold C via commons.wikimedia.org)

Although there are multiple levels of government in Canada, it is often said, there is only one taxpayer. So it is frustrating to see necessary public policy delayed by intergovernmental squabbling.

This is what’s happening right now with plans for the future of transportation in Metro Vancouver. A year ago, area voters rejected a referendum proposal that would have seen increased taxes to fund better transit. Stagnation has been the status of transit policy since then.

In the budget tabled in March, the federal government ponied up $370 million for transit in the region.

Last week, the provincial government announced $246 million over a three-year period to improve bus and SeaBus service, purchase more SkyTrain cars and launch “initial work towards new major rapid transit in Vancouver and Surrey.”

The provincial minister in charge of TransLink, Peter Fassbender, said he expects Metro Vancouver municipalities to raise $124 million more, for a total of $740 million over three years.

Mayors of Metro municipalities have a grander scheme – to the tune of $7.5 billion over 10 years, which they would see funded through transit fare and property tax hikes, the sale of some TransLink property and more tolls on bridges and roads.

In this space, we are more accustomed to taking on manageable issues like Middle East peace rather than the seemingly intractable difficulties of moving residents of Metro Vancouver from one part of the region to another. But the issue of transportation is having serious ramification for Metro Vancouverites and things will only get worse if something nearly revolutionary doesn’t happen soon.

This has already had and will continue to have specific implications for ethnocultural communities, including the Jewish community. Real estate realities have driven successive generations of Jewish community members out of the erstwhile “Jewish neighborhood” of Oakridge, the heydays of which will be recalled in an upcoming exhibit of the Jewish Museum and Archives of British Columbia.

Reflecting trends that transcend cultural boundaries, home buyers have moved in concentric circles in recent decades, outward from the city proper, first across the bridges to Richmond and the North Shore, then further east and south. Nearly half – 46% – of Metro Vancouver’s Jews now live outside the city limits, with recent years having seen notable increases in the Jewish populations of Surrey/White Rock, the Tri-Cities and the areas of Maple Ridge, Pitt Meadows and Langley. While there are nodes of Jewish life in each of these locations, there is no doubt that, for most Jewish-related services – cultural events, organizational meetings, day schools, high school, camps, Jewish social services – travel is required.

The Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver has long recognized the particular challenges of providing services to and maintaining cohesion among a community spread across a large geographic space. A recent effort, Connect Me In, is surveying Jewish British Columbians who live outside Vancouver and asking how the communal umbrella agency can serve their needs.

Federation is trying to provide services to people where they live so that it is less necessary to come “into the city.” Yet even the best laid plans well executed cannot erase the barriers of time and space between, say, Squamish and 41st and Oak. Moreover, the delivery of services where Jewish people live will still require some movement … from the core outward.

Maintaining cohesion within our community in such a situation depends both on the ability of our community agencies to respond to the needs, as well as the desire of suburbanites to maintain connection to the Jewish community. It also depends, in ways we should not underestimate, on the simple ability to move from Point A to Point B in the Lower Mainland. Transit is a Jewish issue.

Time to change Hatikvah?

(photo by Zachi Evenor via commons.wikimedia.org)

With Liberal MP Mauril Bélanger’s private members’ bill seeking to change the lyrics of O Canada having advanced to its second reading, I am thinking about another anthem close to many readers’ hearts: Hatikvah. With Yom Ha’atzmaut having recently passed, the content of Hatikvah deserves some reconsideration.

Bélanger’s amendment would make the Canadian national anthem more gender-inclusive, changing “in all thy sons command” to “in all of us command.”

As reported by CBC News, Bélanger said, “As Canadians, we continually test our assumptions and, indeed, our symbols, for their suitability.” He continued: “Our anthem can reflect our roots and our growth.”

It’s a statement that is rife for comparing with the Israeli experience. Israel’s Jewish state-building origins have long been challenged by the country’s democratic requirements.

When it comes to inclusiveness, Bélanger knows of what he speaks. Over the last several months, Bélanger has been an especially unifying figure in the corridors of Canadian power, having been recently diagnosed with ALS. Not long ago, my own synagogue in Ottawa honored him in a highly moving ceremony that easily transcended whatever residue of partisan divisions may have remained after what was an unusually divisive Canadian election.

Despite being written in the highly gendered language of Hebrew, Hatikvah doesn’t suffer from gender exclusion (its gender inflections are mostly in the neutral “we” form). But there is a different gap in its inclusiveness: the 20% of Israeli citizens who are Arabs. Reports about swearing-in ceremonies of Knesset members or Israeli judges from time to time include a mention of an Arab or Palestinian honoree walking out or simply refusing to sing.

Writing in the Forward in 2012, Philologos (a pseudonym for Hillel Halkin) proposed changing Hatikvah’s lyrics to make them more inclusive. “It’s unacceptable to have an anthem that can’t be sung by 20% of a population,” he wrote. “Permitting [the minority] to stand mutely while others sing is no solution.”

Philologos’ fix is simple. Change Yehudi (Jewish) to Yisraeli (Israeli), and le’Tzion (to Zion) to l’artzeinu (to our land). Close the song with “in the city in which David … encamped.”

It’s an idea that is top of mind for Israel’s Arab MKs, such as Yousef Jabareen, who told me in a 2015 interview that he believes Hatikvah should be adapted “to accommodate both national groups.” He added, “The Arab minority are not just another minority. They are a native minority. They were there before the establishment of the state of Israel.”

When thinking about any type of policy change, it’s important to consider who stands to gain and who stands to lose. Given that a recent Pew poll found that 79% of Israeli Jews feel they “deserve preferential treatment,” it’s clear that Jewish Israelis are comfortable with their position of privilege – whether legislative or symbolic – in Israel. It stands to reason that any erosion in perceived privilege might be seen as a threat.

Israeli Jews may not embrace these sorts of changes. Neither, when it comes to changing O Canada, do some Conservative MPs, citing no need to bend to “political correctness,” as Larry Maguire said. Another MP, Kelly Block, said she does “not believe the anthem is sexist,” according to CBC News.

However, there is something powerful about allowing for expanded boundaries of inclusion. Further enfranchising those who feel excluded can help buttress the institutions that constitute the state, and the costs would be relatively low.

By their design, national anthems are meant to express the will of the polity. Those who wield power might want to think about the effects of the content of national symbols on those who don’t feel represented by them. When it comes to nation-building, casting a net that extends to the edges of the polity bears fruit for democratic functioning and civic identity.

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. This article was originally published in the CJN.