antisemitism – Page 6

Help with the legal aspects

When Erin Brandt founded the Antisemitism Legal Helpline in January 2024, the employment and human rights lawyer had no idea how much time this volunteer position would consume.

“The fact that we’re getting this many calls is a little terrifying,” she said. Last year, 32% of the more than 50 calls for assistance were about employment and labour issues, 29% about human rights, and the remainder were about defamation, strata or tenancy disputes, criminal matters and on-campus incidents. This year, as of early November, there had been 44 calls, with the top two concerns remaining the same, but with the order reversed: human rights (30% of calls), followed by employment and labour issues (25%).

“A lot of people don’t know about us and, therefore, aren’t calling – so this represents just a small sampling of what’s going on in BC,” she said.

The Antisemitism Legal Helpline’s operational costs are mainly funded by the Law Foundation of British Columbia, and all legal advice is provided on a volunteer basis by 30 lawyers, “mostly Jewish, but also non-Jewish who have identified as allies of the Jewish community,” said Brandt.

The helpline’s steering committee includes Brandt, Jessica Forman and Cindy Switzer; Rochelle Garfinkel is the coordinator.

Jews who have experienced antisemitism and want to inquire about the potential for legal action can call the helpline and be referred to a lawyer with an appropriate specialty. They receive a 30-minute, free legal consultation about whether there has been a legal breach and, if so, what the options are.

photo - Lawyer Erin Brandt, founder and steering committee member of British Columbia’s Antisemitism Legal Helpline — Lawyer Erin Brandt, founder and steering committee member of British Columbia’s Antisemitism Legal Helpline. *(from antisemitismlegalhelp.org)*

“People come to us looking for advice on whether their case has merit, and part of our job is to explain the legal system and what it looks like to pursue a complaint to conclusion,” Brandt said. “It could include sending a cease and demand letter, among other options. If an individual wants to pursue a complaint further, sometimes a lawyer may be prepared to take it on pro bono, or the case might be strong enough that it warrants seeking outside funding, from resources in the Jewish community. There are legal funds available.”

The lawyers in the roster are confident and experienced, Brandt added. “One of the things people look for is cultural competency. When they feel vulnerable or attacked, they want to speak to someone who empathizes with what they’ve been through. Our roster of lawyers is small, but strong, and if a situation comes up where the current roster can’t help, the steering committee steps in to work our networks and bring in the right lawyers.”

The US equivalent of the Antisemitism Legal Helpline is the Anti-Defamation League’s Legal Action Network, which launched in early November with a team of 40 law firms constituting some 40,000 lawyers. “This is the largest and most powerful network of attorneys in this country, united and walking in lock step in the fight against antisemitism,” said James Pasch, vice-president of litigation at the ADL. Those attorneys are not all Jewish, he added, and being Jewish was not a prerequisite for volunteering legal assistance.

“We were looking for like-minded, talented attorneys who’d be interested in pro bono cases to fight back against antisemitism, and we’ve been heartened by the response of the American legal community. There’s an understanding that the spread of antisemitism in our communities cannot be tolerated and, when it crosses the line to horrific conduct, it’s incumbent on us to push back and fight for the rights of the Jewish community.”

Victims of acts of antisemitism receive a call from a law firm that does a thorough intake process. After that, if there are issues that are legally actionable, they work to provide ongoing legal assistance on an individualized case basis.

“We have to use every tool in the toolkit in the fight against antisemitism, and using the courts will be a vital tool in that fight,” he said. “We’re extraordinarily heartened and grateful that such a large swath of the legal community has decided to stand ready to provide pro bono legal assistance to the Jewish community.”

After Oct. 7, 2023, an antisemitism hotline for college students and professors was launched by the law firm Gibson Dunn, in collaboration with the ADL, Hillel International and the Brandeis Centre. While it led to 25 legal actions that resulted in settlements, criminal prosecutions and policy changes at universities, calls were coming from people outside of college campuses, too. They encompassed employment issues, denial of service and harassment of students in schools among other issues.

“The rise of antisemitism was never going to just stay siloed on campus,” Pasch noted. “We’ve seen antisemitism metastasize and spread across the United States. It was vital that we set up a system that gives the Jewish community an ability to fight back against it, tell their story and pursue legal remedies that will better protect us now and for years to come.”

To reach the BC Antisemitism Legal Helpline, call 778-800-8917 or email alh@accessprobono.ca; the website is antisemitismlegalhelp.org.

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

Stories create impact

Choices keynote speaker Mandana Dayani, centre, with event co-chairs, left to right, Gail James, Briana James, Lola Pawer and Lisa Boroditsky. (photo by Rhonda Dent)

On Nov. 16, Choices once again celebrated the work of Jewish women philanthropists. This year’s theme, “L’dor Vador” (“Generation to Generation”), reflected the more than 400 people who attended the 21st annual event, which took place at Congregation Beth Israel.

“We saw so many younger, first-time attendees,” said Ricki Thal, associate campaign director at Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver.

The event’s four co-chairs also represented the theme: Gail James and her granddaughter, Briana James; Lola Pawer and her daughter, Lisa Boroditsky.

Briana James introduced the keynote speaker, business leader and activist Mandana Dayani. In doing so, James said “our future shines bright,” with Dayani leading the way in philanthropy and activism, fighting antisemitism and advocating on behalf of women’s rights.

Dayani took the stage with her husband, Peter Traugott, presenting her material in conversation with him.

A Hollywood film producer with credits including HBO, Apple TV and Netflix, among others, Traugott also holds a master’s in business administration from Harvard University. He set a light-hearted tone, quipping, “This is my first at this – [being] Mandana’s ‘plus one’!” Speaking about their Jewish life in Los Angeles, where several members of the Dayani family live close by, he described a cross between Everybody Loves Raymond and My Big Fat Greek Wedding.

Traugott asked Dayani about her experiences as a new immigrant in New York. She spoke of the culture shock, the lights and traffic in New York. She also spoke, with gratitude, about HIAS (Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society), which supported her family’s flight from Iran, found her father a job as a shoe salesman and found them a place to live, where they became part of the community.

Dayani said her earliest memories of Iran are of “the morality police, the fear in everyone’s eyes.” She recalled having a gun pointed at her when she was just 4 years old. She is now 43.

Her family, who had wanted to leave Iran since the revolution in 1979, finally got a visa to Italy in 1987. They fled there, “leaving everything behind.” The experience has left her, she said, with an enduring sense of “how quickly this escalates, seeing my country taken over by lunatics.”

Despite having to live “with no safety net, starting over and over again, with no money,” Dayani said, “I’ve never missed a Shabbat in my life…. Shabbat is everything to us.”

Dayani’s grandfather was a rabbi and the family Orthodox. She understands the sacrifices that had to be made to maintain their traditions and feels “a responsibility” to do so as well, she said. As for integrating into American life, she described watching TV to learn how to dress, speak and behave as an American. She said, “I feel very Persian. Being a Persian Jew, that’s integral to who I am.” She also describes herself as “deeply patriotic – the US saved my life.”

Dayani takes her two daughters everywhere, she said. “If I meet my heroes, they meet my heroes. If I’m going to the UN General Assembly or the White House, they come with me.”

She and Traugott are trying to raise active, responsible citizens. “We have conversations about what’s happening in the world and they’re always rooted in kindness, through the lens of compassion,” she said.

Dayani advises caution when it comes to internalizing the messages we see online. “If we cave to the algorithms, we’ll believe that everyone hates Jews and it simply isn’t true,” she said, adding, “So many people stand with us and love us. The kids are good!”

In response to a question from Traugott about her process as a storyteller, Dayani spoke about “using storytelling to create impact,” to change society in significant ways.

Dayani acknowledged that anger spurs some of her work, such as her fight against the first Trump administration’s policy of attempting to deter migrants by separating children from their parents. She recalled her fears as a child, landing in New York, not wanting to let go of her mother’s hand. “I can’t think of a worse thing you could do to the most vulnerable population in the world,” she said. This sentiment led her to travel to Texas to see the policy in action, as the disconnect was just too powerful, she said. “The country that saved me is doing this?”

Her strategy in situations like this, she said, is to “call all the women I know who are smarter than me” to together “redirect the world’s attention to what we want them to look at. Real issues. It worked.”

She explained, “We received hundreds of millions of dollars of donated advertising…. I was so moved by how everyone showed up.”

The advertising aspect – the dissemination of information – was absolutely essential, she said, noting that “20% of the pro-Hamas information being spread on social media right after Oct. 7 was disseminated by bots, not real people…. It was planned. There was spin on the day it happened.”

When Mandani posted a video about this online within days of Hamas’s attack, the post got some 50 million views within a couple of hours. Death threats started coming in.

“I am a progressive leader and none of those people were speaking up,” she said, referring to other human rights and anti-hate activists.

Even though, as Traugott noted, Dayani doesn’t just work for a single demographic, but rather does outreach on behalf of various groups who have experienced different kinds of trauma and marginalization, she lost friends after Oct. 7 – or, as she put it, “so-called ‘thought leaders’ remaining silent because they couldn’t stand 10 negative comments” on their social media accounts. Dayani said the people she thought were her peers lacked the courage to stand up for justice when it came to Jews.

Among many other initiatives, Dayani founded, in 2024, the Calanet Foundation for young people, to harness “the power of Jewish stories in response to the branding work done by the Palestinian contingent.” After Oct. 7, she saw “so many black squares on people’s feeds,” as a mark of Jews’ grief. She also wanted people to focus on “the desert flower growing out of a crack,” the calanet (Hebrew for anemone), which symbolizes strength and resilience. She quoted the adage “They tried to bury us – they didn’t know we were seeds.”

One of Calanet’s projects is One Mitzvah a Day, which entails expressing thanks to those who stand up against antisemitism and/or in support of Israel – “one text a day, such as expressing gratitude to Trader Joe’s for selling Israeli feta,” said Dayani, noting that 5.5 million messages have been sent since the project’s January launch. Traugott pointed out that “most of the allies weren’t Jewish.”

Dayani asked the audience to consider “the power of this room, when everyone does the work.” She said, “Just do what you’re doing today – keep showing up.”

Shula Klinger is an author and journalist living in North Vancouver.

Jew-hatred is centuries old

Bar-Ilan University’s Dr. Mordechai Kedar spoke in Vancouver Nov. 17 at Temple Sholom on root causes of Jew-hatred. (from idsf.org.il)

The Enlightenment of the 18th century carried hopes for Jews that their long history of persecution would end, but the ideas of that period carried the seeds of a new form of Jew-hatred. Communism was intended to erase class and national differences, which might have eliminated discrimination toward Jews, but this ideology too carried a poisonous element. Zionism was intended as the answer to systemic discrimination against Jews. It too, though, merely sparked a variation on the ancient bigotry.

In a survey spanning centuries, one of Israel’s leading scholars of the Middle East explained the seemingly limitless justifications for Jew-hatred in Christian and Islamic civilizations.

Dr. Mordechai Kedar spoke in Vancouver Nov. 17 at Temple Sholom on root causes of Jew-hatred. Kedar is a senior lecturer in Arabic and Middle Eastern studies at Bar-Ilan University, where he has taught for more than 30 years. Kedar served for 25 years in Israeli military intelligence, specializing in Syria and regional Arab affairs.

Kedar said he prefers the term “Jew-hatred” to antisemitism because it subverts the rhetorical claim that Arabs, who are semitic, can therefore not be antisemites.

“We don’t find anti-Jewish sentiments in India, in China, Japan and Korea,” said Kedar. “One reason is the religion. Both Christianity and Islam are religions which are derivatives of Judaism. Therefore, in order to establish their validity and their legitimacy, they must undermine the validity and the legitimacy of Judaism.”

Another reason, he said, is that there have historically been few or no Jews in those places. In addition to being theological, Kedar argues, Jew-hatred has been a xenophobic reaction to the “other.” In the absence of Jews in India or Japan, this role was filled by other others.

Traits of Jews themselves also spark antisemitism, he said. Illiteracy in Jewish communities has been almost nonexistent, said Kedar, and this has created jealousy. More recently, the disproportionate number of Jewish Nobel Prize recipients may be a point of pride for Jews, but it can serve as a red flag for those seeking reasons for resentment. Jewish success in a range of fields spurs bitterness among some who are less successful or struggle to compete.

The historical trajectory of Jew-hatred is long and winding.

“Two hundred years ago, more or less, some countries, especially after the Enlightenment in Europe, started to give emancipation to Jews,” said Kedar. “Instead of erasing the differences between Jews and others, [this freedom] actually increased the hatred because now the Jew, the ‘other,’ invades our circles, he becomes a lawyer, he becomes an accountant, he competes with us in our court.”

When Jews in Germany abandoned traditional distinctive clothing choices, this caused a backlash among non-Jews.

“This is frightening for them because, all of a sudden, the Jew looks like us,” Kedar summarized. “Is he like me or not? All of a sudden, he wants to look like a German, sound like a German, act like a German.”

With the French Revolution, and gaining steam after 1848, the Age of Nationalism was another turning point. The collapse of empires, notably the Austro-Hungarian Empire, where as many as one-third of Europe’s Jews lived, brought unanticipated challenges for Jews. As Hungarians, Romanians and others gained both national sovereignty and greater ethnic identity, Jews were again isolated as outsiders.

“If we are Romanians, we are Christians,” Kedar said. “We speak Romanian.… We dance to the same music. We eat the same food. Who doesn’t? The Jew. He eats different food. He speaks a different language. So, he’s not one of us.”

Socialism and communism were meant to erase the differences between peoples, Kedar said, including the very concept of separate nationalities.

“And who is leading this erasing of nationalism? The Jew Trotsky and Lenin, with his [Jewish] roots,” said Kedar. The Jew is blamed when nationalism is ascendant and when communism is pushing nationalism to the margin, he noted.

Envy and othering even undermined Zionism, which was conceived as the ultimate answer to the inescapable antisemitism experienced by the stateless Jew.

“The Zionist movement was another reason to hate the Jew,” Kedar said. “Let’s imagine that we have a little town in Romania with problems of employment, problems of poverty, problems of alcoholism as well. The Jews are starting this new theology of Zionism, to leave the country and to go to eretz Israel. ‘What, you’re going to leave us and go to a better place? We hate you.’”

Kedar spoke extensively about Islamic theological and political antisemitism, which he described as like a “layer cake.”

“Judaism was canceled 2,000 years ago by Christianity,” he said. “And Christianity was canceled 14 centuries ago by Islam. So, Judaism was canceled twice.… Since Judaism is null and void, why do we need a Jewish state if there is no Jewish religion?”

Another layer rests on the Islamic concept of dar al-Islam, the domain of Islam, he said, which holds that no land controlled by Muslims must ever fall into the hands of the infidel.

Under the Ottomans, he said, eretz Israel was under Islamic rule and should forever remain so because, “according to the belief, according to Sharia, any land in the world has only a one-way ticket to enter the House of Islam, not to get out.”

A third layer is a widespread rejection of Jews as a people or as a nation. By reducing Jews to a religious group, he said, this idea subordinates Jewish identity to national affiliation, so a Jewish Canadian is Canadian first and that is their nation. This argument succeeds in justifying dozens of Muslim states while rejecting one Jewish state based on the premise that these are not Muslim states, but Turkish, Uzbeki or other states that happen to share a religion.

A fourth layer, said Kedar, is that some Islamic thought denies Jewish connections to the land and maintains that the people who today call themselves Jews are descended from central Asian Khazars who converted to the Jewish religion.

These concepts negate a core intention of Zionism, which was to resolve the problems created by Jewish statelessness. Muslim opposition to Israel, founded on these layers of theological justification, and Western opposition to Israel, mainly taking the form of political criticisms that extend into existential rejection, have prevented the Jewish state from serving the role Zionism intended, which was in part to make Jews a people like any other.

Rabbi Dan Moskovitz welcomed Kedar, who is associated with the right-wing in Israel, and said his congregation is a “big tent.”

“I did hear from some of you here,” said Moskovitz, “or in the community, [asking] why is Temple Sholom hosting Dr. Kedar?… As the senior rabbi of this congregation, it is my intention and mission to bring in voices, within the boundaries of the tent of the Jewish people, that represent the spectrum of Jewish thought. I tell my children all the time, you only learn when you listen to people that you don’t already agree with.”

Aron Csaplaros, BC regional manager for B’nai Brith Canada, which co-sponsored the event, introduced Kedar. He also highlighted his organization’s most recent audit of antisemitic incidents, noting they recorded 6,219 incidents of hate against the Jewish community in Canada in 2024.

“That’s the highest number we’ve ever recorded in the more than 40 years that we’ve been tracking this data,” he said. “That comes out to an average of 17 antisemitic incidents every single day.”

Incidents range from online harassment, threatening behaviour and vandalism targeting Jewish institutions to direct attacks against Jewish individuals, Csaplaros said.

“It is hostility directed at people simply because they’re Jewish,” he said. “Many in our community feel less safe today than at any point in their lifetimes. Parents hesitate sending their kids to school. University students are increasingly targeted and isolated. And Jewish Canadians who have always lived openly and proudly now find themselves looking over their shoulders or questioning whether this is still the country that can offer the sense of security that they once felt.”

Post-tumble, lights still shine

I recently celebrated Shabbat morning in a way I don’t recommend. I stepped out of my house for the dog walk, thought, “Oh, slippery!” The next thing I knew, I lost my footing. I fell down several stone steps. I ended up on the sidewalk. I’d let go of the leash. My large dog stood patiently, looking concerned, as I lay on the front walk, assessing the situation.

We’ve had a long and temperate fall here in Winnipeg. The light glaze of ice that covered everything was an unfortunate surprise. I’m very lucky. I was able to get up. I went back up the front stairs with the dog and got help. While I’m bruised and my hands were bloodied, nothing broke. While I would have preferred to go right back to bed, I stayed active enough to manage the rest of the weekend. My kids volunteer at services, so I still had to go there, too. Sometimes, what we want isn’t possible, so we make the best of the situation.

I think about Hanukkah, and the adversity that Jews face, in this way. In the best possible situation, we wouldn’t have to fight physically or verbally to maintain our traditions. We would be able to celebrate in a full-throated way, without hesitation. Yet, that option doesn’t always feel possible, even if we might think that embracing Jewish joy is the best way forward.

The issue arose for me recently when I participated in an accessible “make along.” This event, called Fasten Off, has a period each fall where knitting and crochet designers offer a big discount on their downloadable patterns. It is intended to be as accessible as possible to people with disabilities, as well as those with other challenges. There are multiple categories of challenges: non-gendered, low-vision, sizing for those who are taller or larger than average. For the first time, this year, there was a category on the form that one could tick off that said, “marginalized religious group.” I really didn’t know what to do.

It’s true that my designs include kippot and a hamantashen baby rattle stuffie. I have never hidden my identity. Now, in Canada, Jews are a marginalized group, with documented hate crime numbers and antisemitism rising. However, I wondered what would happen if I checked off this box. Would it mean fewer people would buy my work? More? What benefit would it have? I both ticked off the box and contacted the organizer to mention my concern. I got no response at all, which made me feel even more worried.

My sales stats show what a huge shift the last two years have been. Previously, one of my kippah patterns, as an example, had been a dependable seller. I looked up this design’s sales and found I’d sold only about 16 kippah patterns (all styles) on three sales platforms during two years of the Gaza war. In the previous year, 2022/23, I sold 14 copies of this pattern on only one sales platform. As a result of this drastic sales drop (I have more than 80 designs online), I ended up taking a break from designing. It no longer became cost-effective to sink money into creating new designs when knitters no longer make even these small purchases. It doesn’t mean my business interests changed. The situation has. I’m still marketing my work, offering discounts and trying to attract interest – even while being part of a “marginalized group.”

Our tradition teaches us to pivot when things are challenging. In the Torah parsha (portion) Toldot, Isaac grows successful as a shepherd. (Genesis 26:13 and onwards) However, when he increases his household and flocks, he needs more water. When he digs new wells, he runs into trouble. First, the Philistines fill up his old wells and, then, as he moves onward, digging new ones, other herdsmen object. He pivots, digging new wells in new places until he finds one that works out. Meanwhile, in time, those who objected to him previously seek a reconciliation, seeing Isaac’s divine fortune, and they make peace. (Genesis 26:31)

After hearing this portion chanted in synagogue, a friend reminded me that sometimes being resilient means pivoting or waiting with patience when faced with adversity. Things don’t turn around right away. We both have engaged in a lot of Jewish advocacy and antisemitism education work over the past year together. She is a professional, public figure, while I tend to write and reach out behind the scenes as a volunteer. Sometimes, my efforts net quick responses, and I know what I said mattered. Other times, I have no idea if anyone received my email or if they read it. I keep trying, as I’m invested in this effort to make life better for Canadian Jews for the long haul.

I believe that bringing up issues concerning antisemitism education, equity reviews in schools and school curriculum matters makes a difference. Sometimes my message reaches the right reporter or school official. Sometimes, it doesn’t or it fails. Yet, in every situation, it’s important to pick myself up, dust myself off – and start all over again, even if the setbacks can hurt.

During Hanukkah, we celebrate the triumph of regaining religious freedom and peace. We use candles to illustrate the metaphor of bringing light to dark times. Sometimes that light is sweeter because of the struggle beforehand.

I’m still very sore from tumbling down our icy front steps, but I’m also incredibly grateful. This morning, the dog barked, asking for her walk and, while I may still be hobbling and bruised for a bit, I was able to get outside again.

That opportunity, to keep digging wells, reaching out to others and continuing to try? It matters. Some might see Jews as marginalized, but it’s also possible to take another read. Rather, we’re lucky and resilient, too, a people offering religious freedom and Hanukkah light to other nations.

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.

Visit to cradle of Ashkenaz

Buried next to Maharam of Rothenburg’s grave is Alexander ben Salomon of Wimpfen (known in some sources as Alexander Süsskind Wimpfen) – the man who paid for the release of the rabbi’s remains. (photo by Pat Johnson)

They say that history repeats itself and, if this is true at all, it is perhaps more true for Jewish history. The recent exchange of almost 2,000 imprisoned Palestinian terrorists for the remaining Jewish hostages held in Gaza was an act of moral compromise that has a long lineage.

Throughout Israeli history, the centrality in Jewish values of the sanctity of life and the respectful burial of the dead have been exploited by the country’s enemies. Yahya Sinwar, the mastermind of the 10/7 pogrom, was himself freed in a 2011 prisoner release that saw more than 1,000 Palestinian terrorists set free in exchange for the freedom of Gilad Shalit, an Israeli held in Gaza for more than five years.

The ransoming of Jews goes back much, much further, however – at least to the very beginning of Ashkenaz.

In a recent brief visit to the German city of Worms, southwest of Frankfurt, I learned of Rabbi Meir of Rothenburg, who was the leading Ashkenazi halakhic authority of the 13th century. Also known as the Maharam of Rothenburg (an acronym of “Moreinu ha-rav Rabbi Meir,” meaning “Our teacher, the rabbi, Rabbi Meir”), he was imprisoned after attempting to leave the Holy Roman Empire around 1286. Jews were legally considered imperial property and valued for their tax revenue. His attempted departure was due to rising oppression, repressive taxes and broader political instability.

His arrest was intended both to prevent Jewish emigration and to extract a massive ransom by holding the most prominent rabbi of the era hostage. Although the Jewish communities were prepared to pay for his release, the Maharam refused to permit an excessive ransom, invoking the talmudic principle that captives should not be redeemed at exorbitant cost lest it encourage future kidnappings. He remained imprisoned until his death in 1293. After death, his body was held for 14 years, until a private individual paid for the release. He was ultimately buried in the Jewish cemetery at Worms.

The cemetery is known as Heiliger Sand, or Holy Sand, and the Maharam’s grave is adorned in mountains of memorial stones. Buried next to him, and also remembered with countless stones, is Alexander ben Salomon of Wimpfen (known in some sources as Alexander Süsskind Wimpfen) – the man who paid for the release of the rabbi’s remains. The parallel graves symbolize the duality of moral sacrifice and restorative compassion.

The Maharam aside, the cemetery is one of the most significant burial sites in the Jewish world. It is the oldest remaining Jewish cemetery in Europe, the earliest grave estimated to date from 1058.

Worms was one of the central pillars of medieval Jewish civilization because it stood at the heart of Ashkenazi religious, legal and cultural development during the Middle Ages. Together with Mainz and Speyer, Worms was one of the “ShUM cities,” the most important Jewish centres north of the Alps between roughly the 10th and 13th centuries. The ShUM communities created the foundations of Ashkenazi Judaism as it is still practised today. It was one of the earliest Jewish settlements in Central Europe after Jewish migration from the Mediterranean world. It was a cradle of Ashkenazi civilization and the Maharam its most venerated scholar.

Jewish life in Worms became a template for Ashkenazi Jewish communal life, developing the legal customs (minhagim) around marriage, mourning, tzedakah and education that spread throughout Central and Eastern Europe. Even after the devastation of the Crusades and later expulsions, Worms endured in Jewish consciousness and culture. The last burial in the cemetery was in 1942. Miraculously, unlike many other Jewish cemeteries across Europe, this one survived the Shoah relatively intact.

The symbiosis – if that is the correct word – of Jewish and Christian life in Worms is embodied in the larger dichotomy of European Jewish life. From the cemetery, the main edifice visible outside the grounds is the imposing Worms Cathedral. Worms may be central in Ashkenazi tradition, but it also holds a profound place in Christian history.

photo - From the cemetery, the main edifice visible outside the grounds is the imposing Worms Cathedral — From the cemetery, the main edifice visible outside the grounds is the imposing Worms Cathedral. (photo by Pat Johnson)

Martin Luther, the 15th-century monk who sparked the Protestant Reformation and drove the most significant schism in Christianity, nailed his 95 theses to the cathedral door in Wittenburg, about 400 kilometres from Worms. Luther’s history intersected with Worms when he was tried at the unappetizingly titled Diet of Worms, in 1521, and found guilty by imperial authorities. Refusing to recant, he became one of history’s most consequential heretics – or spiritual pioneer and reformer, depending on one’s perspective.

To Jews, Luther is a despotic figure. After effectively inventing Protestant Christianity, Luther was solicitous to the Jews, hoping that the stiff-necked people who had rejected the doctrine of Jesus as purveyed by the Vatican would jump on board the rebranded Lutheran variety. When they overwhelmingly did not, Luther transformed into a ferocious antisemite, putting quill to papyrus in some of history’s most vile racist tirades.

From the perspective of this history, the cathedral dominating the sightlines of the Holy Sand can be viewed as a place where one of history’s greatest Jew-haters got his comeuppance. Of course, the Catholicism that the building still represents has its own problematic history, to frame it kindly. And, for that matter, Luther landed on his feet, historically speaking.

Visiting the cemetery is a moving experience – with a bizarre and almost laughable twist.

Unsurprisingly, there were two security personnel seated at a table outside the gate. I attempted to gather some information, but our lack of shared language prevented much conversation. They did motion toward a box of what I thought were face masks, but which turned out to be makeshift kippot. In fact, they were peaked paper caps, the sort that short order cooks at Denny’s might wear. It was an odd experience to be walking around an ancient cemetery looking like I just stepped out of Mel’s Diner.

We should use caution in making sweeping parallels across history, but it is striking how the enemies of the Jews across the centuries have recognized and exploited the importance of pidyon shvuyim, the redeeming of captives. How many other traditions, I wonder, have prayers in the liturgy for specifically this eventuality? A visit to the Holy Sand reminds us how deep that tradition of exploitation goes.

Words hold much power

At an event hosted by the National Council of Canadian Muslims on Nov. 1, Toronto’s Mayor Olivia Chow said, “the genocide in Gaza impacts us all.”

Four days later, protesters attacked a group of Jewish students from Toronto Metropolitan University at an event featuring a speaker who served in the Israel Defence Forces during the recent Gaza war.

Is this cause and effect? Did Chow’s words give a kind of permission for anti-Israel activists to act out violently?

Human nature doesn’t work so neatly. Suggesting one directly led to the other is both unprovable and probably specious.

Both of these incidents, however, are part of a larger zeitgeist.

For (at least) two years, Israel has been accused of monstrous barbarities. Accusations against the Jewish state include deliberate starvation, ethnic cleansing, intentional mass killings, wanton destruction of infrastructure and other assorted war crimes.

There are legitimate debates around the definitions of terms and whether or how they apply to recent events in Gaza. However, public discussions, as Chow demonstrated, rarely reflect these nuances.

As a society, we now widely accept that incendiary language can lead to incendiary actions. In discussions around immigration levels, for example, responsible public figures generally engage in discourse that does not demonize migrants or new Canadians. Concerns have been raised in recent years around the tenor of discussion around transgender issues, with advocates warning that some of the language can exacerbate emotional isolation, especially in transgender youth, and can lead to suicide ideation. Words, it is widely accepted, can have tangible, indelible impacts.

This thoughtfulness seems nowhere to be found when Jews and allies warn that the provocative language against the Jewish state is having serious impacts on Jews in Canada.

While cause and effect are rarely provable, correlations can be clearer. Over the past two years, combustible rhetoric against Israel has coincided with an unprecedented spike in antisemitic acts against Jewish institutions and people. One would think, under the circumstances, that reasonable people might see the potential that one is at least somewhat related to the other.

Raise this possibility, though, and you can expect to be met with assertions that “Zionists” are trying to silence criticism of Israel or that there is a “chill” on discussion of urgent and legitimate international matters.

This is an admirable defence of free speech. It is interesting, though, that concepts of almost unfettered free expression seem to be the redoubt of Israel critics who accept limitations on civil discourse in a vast range of other topic areas.

Is it a coincidence, also, that the very concept of “Zionists” controlling what other people are permitted to think and say about Israel dovetails with traditional antisemitic concepts of Jewish power and control?

What everyone should be able to accept – because the evidence is plain – is that there is a parallel between the intensity of rhetoric against Israel and increasing attacks on Jews in Canada (and elsewhere).

Toronto’s mayor is just one of many Canadian leaders who should know better than to nonchalantly toss around accusations, understanding that the pitch of condemnation against Israel is having concrete impacts on Jews in Canada.

Anyone with a public platform should behave in ways that recognize the intended and potentially unintended consequences of their words. A mayor of a Canadian city, for example, should know that her words will have limited effect on the lives of Palestinians, but plenty of impacts here at home.

In a diverse country like Canada, where inclusivity is considered a core value, people in positions of respect and power have a duty to act responsibly, to promote unity and avoid phrases that might inflame community tensions.

Did Chow’s words directly lead to the violent attack on Jewish students this month? Almost certainly not.

But they contributed to an environment already aggravated with tension and peril.

Plenty of hopefulness

Avi Benlolo of the Abraham Global Peace Initiative was in Vancouver Nov. 5 to screen the AGPI’s new film, Heart of Courage, about Jewish resilience in the wake of the Oct. 7, 2023, terror attacks. (photo by Pat Johnson)

Against a “tsunami” of anti-Israel and antisemitic content online and in the broader society, Jews and pro-Israel voices need to do a better job getting their message out, according to Avi Benlolo.

Benlolo is founding chair and chief executive officer of the Abraham Global Peace Initiative (AGPI), whose mandate is to study and research international human rights, fundamental freedoms, democracy, global peace and civil society in Canada, Israel and around the world. He was previously founding president and CEO of Friends of Simon Wiesenthal Centre and writes weekly in the

National Post. He was in Vancouver screening AGPI’s new 40-minute film, Heart of Courage and spoke with Rabbi Jonathan Infeld at Congregation Beth Israel Nov. 5. He was introduced by Diane Friedman, the congregation’s adult program director.

The film features a soldier playing John Lennon’s “Imagine” on a piano in Tel Aviv’s Hostages Square.

“His music becomes his voice, a testament to the resilience of his spirit and the strength of his people,” the narrator intones. “His teary eyes remain wide open, reflecting the weight of his generation’s struggle. He plays for a world he longs to see, a world of peace. In that moment, his dreams reach beyond the darkness, yet his resolve remains unshaken. This soldier is part of a chain, a line of defenders stretching back through history, each bound by an unyielding commitment to Israel’s survival.”

Produced prior to the ceasefire, the film includes Benlolo interviewing people at the weekly rallies that drew hundreds of thousands of people in Tel Aviv, many of them family members of hostages. Some have risen to prominence as voices for those held in Gaza and their relatives.

Benlolo visits an art installation that serves as a memorial monument adjacent to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs’ building in Jerusalem. The work, titled “Memory Pomegranate 7.10.2023,” is a sculpture of a pomegranate with multi-coloured glass and ceramics, visual shards and fragments that metaphorically reference broken lives, trauma and loss, but together form a hopeful whole, emphasizing life, resilience and collective memory. The artwork integrates electronic tags that allow a smartphone or other device to access digital content to learn more about the events of 10/7 and the people and communities affected.

Sharing stories of non-Jews who saved lives on 10/7, the film declares, “In Israel, heroism knows no bounds of religion, ethnicity or background. On Oct. 7, amid the chaos, countless stories emerged of Muslims, Druze, Christians and Bedouins risking everything to protect their fellow citizens.”

After the screening, Benlolo and Infeld spoke of the hurdles to getting the message out.

Benlolo, who has worked extensively in multicultural and interfaith sectors, plans to screen Heart of Courage for diverse audiences, as his organization has done with previous films.

The biggest challenge, Benlolo said, may be reaching younger audiences, for whom anti-Israel activism has become “cool.”

“We have to go to them and get to them through the technology that exists today,” he said. “Social media in particular.”

This presents its own challenges, he noted, as there is a “tsunami” of anti-Israel and antisemitic content.

The silver lining of this era, according to Benlolo, is a new generation of engaged Jewish young people.

“What we all saw as a result of Oct. 7 was Jewish youth for the first time ever walking proudly with Magen Davids around their necks, fighting back, distancing themselves from people who have rejected them and reject the state of Israel,” he said.

While the film paints a picture of a unified Israeli society, Benlolo acknowledged divisions, rifts that will likely be exacerbated in next year’s national elections.

One of the most visible points of discord is the debate over Haredi conscription. Benlolo is unequivocal on this topic. Asked by Infeld what he would say to the Haredi community, Benlolo said, “What’s wrong with you? I mean, honestly.… To not participate in defending the country and to insist that others do it for you, I think, is wrong.”

Benlolo also pulled no punches on issues closer to home. He said Canada’s government is “pretty much siding with Hamas” and other leaders, such as Toronto’s mayor, are “emboldening the other side.” This inspires violent people to act out, he said, citing a vicious attack on Jewish students near Toronto Metropolitan University earlier that day.

“What gives them permission to do that?” Benlolo asked. “It’s the environment that feeds it. It’s the political leadership that allows it. That is the central problem.”

Responding to a question from Infeld on the future of Jewish life in Canada, Benlolo noted that Jewish schools and other institutions in parts of Europe are protected by armed guards and he warned that North American Jews may find themselves “in a much more defensive posture.”

“I can’t promise you that there’s going to be a good future here in Canada,” he said. “But, in Israel, at least, we have an ability to wear the uniform and protect ourselves, and that’s an important distinction. It doesn’t mean Israel is 100% safe, as we all know, it doesn’t mean that’s an easy life, but at least it’s a place where we can stand up for ourselves.”

He has plenty of hopefulness for Israel.

“I think that the next chapter for Israel is an optimistic one,” he said, suggesting that more countries will normalize relations with Israel and join the Abraham Accords. He suggests also that Israel’s economy will skyrocket, in part because of all the technology developed as a result of the war. He also predicts continued increasing levels of aliyah.

Lessons from past for today

At the Kristallnacht commemoration in Victoria on Nov. 6, Congregation Emanu-El’s Rabbi Elisha Herb led a community pledge of mutual respect and support, joined by local politicians, faith leaders and law enforcement. (photo by Penny Tennenhouse)

“Hate has no boundaries and needs to be resisted wherever and against whomever it is found. This is necessary to protect our whole society. The history of the Shoah teaches us the dangers of complacency,” said Micha Menczer in his opening remarks at the Nov. 6 commemoration in Victoria of Kristallnacht, the Night of Broken Glass.

Menczer is a founding member of the Victoria Shoah Project, which held the community’s commemoration at Congregation Emanu-El. The project is a group of Holocaust survivors and their descendants, as well as educators and other individuals, dedicated to Holocaust remembrance and education.

photo - Micha Menczer — Micha Menczer, a founding member of the Victoria Shoah Project, gave the opening remarks at the Nov. 6 commemoration in Victoria of Kristallnacht. *(photo by Penny Tennenhouse)*

After Menczer spoke about the increase in hate crimes in Canada – of which Jews are often the target – Kristin Semmens, a history professor at the University of Victoria, spoke about Kristallnacht, the organized anti-Jewish riots in Germany and Austria on Nov. 9-10, 1938. The violence sent a clear message to Jews that they were not welcome in Germany, said Semmens, noting that, although Jews had already faced extreme persecution, no one foresaw what would come.

“Even after November 1938, even after the destruction and horror and humiliation and fear, even after the shattered storefronts, the burning synagogues, the mass arrests, the physical assaults and murders, few could have imagined how much worse things could get,” she said.

Semmens stressed that, while people came on Nov. 6 to commemorate what happened in the past, it is also fundamentally important to act in the present, to differentiate among people when it comes to basic human rights today.

“We cannot turn a deaf ear or a blind eye to defamation and demonization,” she said. “We must find the courage to challenge the wrongs we see in our society. And, as the events leading to Kristallnacht reveal, we must beware of the beginnings.”

Nina Krieger, British Columbia’s solicitor general and minister for public safety, was the keynote speaker. Due to inclement weather that evening, she spoke from the Lower Mainland via Zoom.

“How can we, today, fathom six million lives cut short solely because they were Jewish?” asked Krieger, who, before entering politics, was the executive director of the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre (VHEC).

“Sadly, as we gather to remember events of 87 years ago, our historical imagination, I think, is less challenged than we thought. With the recent Manchester synagogue attack and the graffiti scrawled on this congregation, the echoes of the past are particularly and painfully resonant.”

In August, antisemitic graffiti was painted at the entrance of Congregation Emanu-El. According to a September post by the synagogue, Victoria police have since found the suspected perpetrator, who “has been charged on two counts: mischief relating to religious property and wilful promotion of hatred.”

Krieger noted that, during the pandemic in Canada, contingents within the anti-vaccination movement borrowed symbols from the Holocaust, such as yellow stars and photos of Anne Frank, to portray their feelings of being marginalized and victimized for the requirement to carry proof of vaccination. She said a commitment to history and memory is the necessary antidote to such Holocaust distortion and trivialization, “which we are seeing with increasing frequency as the Holocaust transitions from lived to mediated memory.”

She pointed to the VHEC’s use of primary sources when engaging with the 25,000 young people the centre educates each year. “Fragments of the Shoah – artifacts, photographs, documents – provide tangible entry points into the past and to individual human experiences during an event that might otherwise be an abstraction of numbers,” said Krieger, who reminded the audience that, in a time of rising antisemitism, the Holocaust may not simply be a lesson but a warning, “an inescapable fact that speaks to what is possible.”

Remembrance of the Shoah, she said, “provides an opportunity to wrestle with fundamental questions about the fragility of democracy and our responsibility as citizens today.”

Music performed by Kvell’s Angels, a local klezmer group, and the Capriccio Vocal Ensemble of Victoria, conducted by Adam Jonathan Con, was interspersed between speakers at the commemoration.

Politicians, leaders from other faith groups and members of the Victoria Police Department rose at the end of the ceremony to recite a pledge of mutual respect and support.

In the program notes to the commemoration, the organizers drew attention to the events that transpired in Germany 87 years ago, when at least 91 Jews were killed and 30,000 Jewish men were forced into concentration camps, Jewish homes and institutions were ransacked, businesses destroyed and synagogues burned. It was, the notes read, “a reflection of the inability of ‘polite society’ – of Jews and non-Jews – to comprehend that the institutions at the very heart of civil society (the police, uniformed people, political representatives) would be at the very core of this violence inflicted on the Jews of Germany and Austria, or contribute … to its devastating effect.”

The commemoration was sponsored by Congregation Emanu-El and the Jewish Federation of Victoria and Vancouver Island.

Sam Margolis has written for the Globe and Mail, the National Post, UPI and MSNBC.

Add Jewish joy to the mix

In Grade 9, the English teacher rotates table placements monthly because sitting with different students helps expose everyone to new worldviews. In general, this makes sense; discussions about literature require us to hear lots of opinions. This was also where, last week, my kid got exposed to a view that our household could have done without.

I didn’t know about the rotating seating until one night at dinner, when my kid asked if I knew of a short video that I could recommend. He needed to explain to a classmate that “all Jews are rich” was an antisemitic stereotype. Both parents stalled for a moment as we sought more information.

It turns out that other tablemates shut down this classmate immediately. They told her to be quiet and do her schoolwork. Let’s call the student Anna. These other female classmates’ backgrounds were Filipina and African Muslim. While grateful, my kid can’t wait until the seat assignments will be changed. He believed that Anna got her information about the Gaza war and Jews from TikTok and that maybe fighting this misinformation with facts, using shortform videos, would help.

When pressed, we learned my kid didn’t have a social media connection with Anna for forwarding information, nor did we think she would watch the video. After all, Anna’s grandmother was Palestinian and liked Jews, saying we were cousins. We parents concluded that someone in Anna’s life or online introduced hateful stereotypes to her. That’s what she believed – not her grandmother.

My husband retold the story of when his family was forced to couch surf. They were homeless for a year. My father-in-law, a young architect without financial backing, sold their family home to fund future work, including their new, half-built house. When the bank lost the deposited cheque from the house sale, they had nowhere to go. My husband, a kindergartener, his toddler brother and his mother spent the year at his grandparents’ New York Lower East Side apartment. My father-in-law had to stay with his parents in New Jersey. When the awful lost cheque episode resolved, they finally moved into their half-built house. They washed their dishes at the only faucet – in the bathtub. My husband could have gone on: his grandfather, raised in Mezrich, Poland, lived in a home that they shared with their cow for winter warmth and financial security. His great-grandmother had 13 children. This included three sets of twins, but none of the twins survived.

Our son said he didn’t want to share any family information. Our truths didn’t matter to Anna, he thought. He didn’t want this kid spouting hate to think he cared or even discussed this with his family. He wanted her to think her prejudice hadn’t affected him. He felt, aside from showing a video to counteract it, he’d get nowhere in explaining how she’d upset him.

This reaction correlates to a JTA article by Ilana Horwitz, a Tulane University professor. Noting that her Jewish studies students didn’t choose topics concerning antisemitism or Israel, she asked why. Her students are constantly facing antisemitism outside her classroom online and in person. Their anxiety about “saying the wrong thing” when it comes to Israel means that they don’t want any more discussions or pressure than they already face. Exhausted, they come to her class to find ways to deepen and strengthen their Jewish knowledge and history and find “Jewish joy.” They want “to remember what we’re fighting for.”

My child’s experiences echo some of the code-switching I did as a teenager in Virginia more than 35 years ago. As an adult, I realized that my Jewish identity, practice and ideals were carefully separated and toned down when we were a small minority amid Christian Southerners who were perhaps ignorant at best when it came to treating Jews as equals. Not much has changed, although, in Winnipeg, the majority culture is coded as secular Christian rather than religious, and there are many more Muslims, Hindus, Sikhs and other religious traditions around.

I recently attended a Jewish-Christian interfaith event on the 60th anniversary of Nostra Aetate, when the Pope decreed that the Catholic Church should guard against antisemitism and that Jews hadn’t killed Jesus. The event’s planners had great intentions. The speakers were good. Rabbi Lisa Grushcow (PhD) and Dr. Murray Watson, a Catholic theologian, brought thoughtful, intellectual views on the subject. They didn’t shy away from much-needed dialogue as a bulwark against rising hate. Unfortunately, the event moderation left something to be desired. The well-intentioned Catholic senior citizens, who rose during the Q&A to speak, didn’t have critical questions. Instead, they wanted to “testify” about the “great Jewish boss” they’d had or seek reassurance that it was OK to disagree with the nice “quite Orthodox Jewish couple” in their senior living facility when it came to the West Bank/Judea and Samaria. I couldn’t help myself. Leaning over to a Jewish friend, I whispered that it’s good there are these amazing Jewish examples mentioned, because of what it suggested about the rest of us “no-goodniks”!

After several awkward moments, I felt relieved when the event ended. As a small minority in Canada, we need allies and connections. We cannot afford to give up on building bridges with others. First, we might make deep friendships and gain positive community, but also, with rising hate, it’s important to have allies (like those school tablemates) who stand up and tell haters to stop when they spout prejudice.

That said, this work to counter antisemitism isn’t solely our problem. Perhaps my teen and those students at Tulane are right. We should devote more energy to our Jewish joy, culture and history. Let’s embrace all the good, rich parts of our identities and re-invest in our learning and celebration. My kid, and most of his tablemates, didn’t want to give hateful stereotypes any airtime. In this instance, he was probably right. Lots has changed since I dealt with this in high school. I was often forced to give all the explanations and information about Jews, since I was the only Jew there. Then, afterwards, there was Jew-hate spewed towards me anyway.

What’s changed is our understanding of what causes criminal behaviour. We now recognize that a short skirt doesn’t cause sexual assault. Nothing we do specifically, as Jewish individuals, brings on this hate. Nothing the modern state of Israel or individual Jews do created this ancient hatred. It’s not our behaviour or fault. We don’t have to own this or fight this alone. Antisemitism is an old symptom of a much more invasive disease of ignorance and hate.

The solutions are complicated. Meanwhile, let’s consider shutting down these biases when they pop up, just as they did in my kid’s Grade 9 class. Let’s offer some Jewish joy to the mix – and let’s also remind one another that it’s not all on us. What causes antisemitism? Antisemites.

Antisemitism a problem

The overwhelming joy of seeing the remaining hostages reunited with their loved ones, and Israelis and Jews heaving a sigh of relief after two excruciating years, is tempered with the sadness of all that was lost on and since Oct. 7, 2023. The entirely reasonable fear, also, is that this eight-decade conflict is not over. With the days-old ceasefire already fraying, it is not clear that even the immediate conflict is decisively ended.

For Jews in the diaspora, the past two years have seen two related but distinct conflicts. The war in the Middle East, with the fate of the hostages as well as the loss of Palestinian and Israeli lives, has been a constant source of pain. The paroxysm of antisemitism worldwide has been a parallel phenomenon.

We are careful to note that the phenomenon of antisemitism is parallel to the war in Gaza, not caused by it. The blame for antisemitism must always be placed where it belongs – on antisemites. To justify it as being a consequence of international affairs is to excuse the perpetrators and avoid the problem. Even so, it is naïve to ignore the parallel – for decades, every time violence flares between Israelis and Palestinians, trouble increases for Jews worldwide.

Assuming that the war is over, we will see whether the antisemitism we have witnessed and experienced – the violence against Jews, the attacks on Jewish institutions, the loss of jobs, the end of friendships, the graffiti, vandalism, and tsunami of online and verbal hatred and conspiratorial speculation (and even unintended offence) – abate. Even if it does subside, the underlying issue remains. Antisemitism in Canada is a Canadian problem. To accept that it ebbs and flows with international news is not an acceptable approach for people who claim to oppose racism and advance inclusion.

Two interesting approaches – and doubtlessly scores more that have received less publicity – take aim at the issue. They come from organizations with significantly different views and propose significantly different responses. This diversity is understandable, in part because antisemitism manifests in diverse ways and so requires diverse responses. This also points to a larger problem: antisemitism is so diffuse and varied, and so historically enduring, that we can disagree on its very nature, its manifestations and causes, let alone how to confront and overcome it. If anyone had the magic solution, we wouldn’t be having this discussion three millennia on.

The latest intervention is a report by the Nexus Project, a US-based nonprofit focused on combating antisemitism while protecting democratic norms like free speech and civil rights. The Shofar Report: A Call to Defend Democracy and Confront Antisemitism contends the best way to combat antisemitism is to strengthen the values of American society (and other Western societies). It argues that Jewish safety and security and American (or, we might extrapolate, Western democratic) institutions are inseparable. Put succinctly, their approach rests on the conventional wisdom that the very societies where antisemitism flourishes are endangered in existential ways. As such, antisemitism is a kind of canary in the coal mine of societal erosion.

The report has several calls to action, including expanding education around the Holocaust, media literacy and diverse Jewish contributions to society; strengthening civil rights enforcement; countering disinformation and conspiracy theories; preserving academic freedom; building cross-community coalitions; and so forth. It critiques antisemitism on the left and right of the political spectrum. While these are not fresh ideas, they are compiled and contextualized here within the apparent erosion of American democracy. If these approaches have not seemed to work, a response might be that we have not been doing them forcefully enough or with enough resolve. With a rapidly changing landscape, might focused attention and some new tactics yield better results?

The Heritage Foundation has a rather more assertive approach. The foundation is perhaps best known in this era as the authors of Project 2025, which serves as a policy map for the current American administration.

Project Esther: A National Strategy to Combat Antisemitism, which was released a year ago, rests on the assumption that antisemitism in the United States (and, again, to extrapolate, in the West) is not an incidental, populist phenomenon, but a deliberately fomented strategy of a coordinated “Hamas Support Network.” The strategy of this report is to put pressure across academic, social, legal, financial and religious spheres to identify and isolate forces they see as perpetrators, supporters or fence-sitters. Their aim is to dismantle the “pro-Palestinian” movement as it is currently constituted, including associated liberal and progressive organizations. To that end, they focus exclusively on left-wing antisemitism. They recommend a combative strategy based on existing and new counter-terrorism and hate-crime laws, investigations and litigation.

We may agree with aspects of one approach more than the other, or take nuggets from each and a thousand other tactics. The solution to antisemitism’s rise, if there is one, will probably come from some synthesis of strategies: building bridges, fighting for democracy, and holding individuals and institutions accountable for their failures and fomentation. The most important thing is to be engaged in the struggle and not to assume that, if an overseas conflict is resolved, the domestic problem will be solved. That would be a form of denial and, while we can disagree over the potential resolutions, we must be unanimous in recognizing the painful realities of the problem.