dialogue

What belonging means

British Columbia has been home to Indigenous peoples since time immemorial, and shaped ever since by people who came from somewhere else. For generations, people have arrived here seeking opportunity, freedom, safety and the chance for a better future. They brought different languages, traditions, beliefs and experiences. Together, they helped create one of the most diverse and vibrant places anywhere in the world.

That diversity is one of British Columbia’s greatest strengths. But it also comes with a great responsibility. In a province where so many of us have roots elsewhere, belonging is not something we inherit. It is something we build.

As we prepare to celebrate BC Day, I find myself thinking about what that means. Not simply belonging within our own families or communities, but belonging to the broader story of British Columbia. For Jewish British Columbians, that story stretches back more than 160 years.

Like so many communities across this province, ours is an immigrant story. Families arrived from Eastern Europe, North Africa, Latin America, the former Soviet Union, Israel, South Africa and countless other places. Some came fleeing persecution. Others came searching for opportunity. Over generations, they contributed to the economic, cultural, civic and charitable life in our province. Along the way, they found something equally important: a place to belong.

That sense of belonging did not happen by chance. It was built by neighbours who welcomed newcomers, by community leaders who created opportunities to participate and by people willing to reach across cultural and religious differences to form lasting relationships.

Those relationships matter because no community succeeds in isolation. They matter because a healthy society depends on trust, and because our differences do not need to divide us. That lesson feels especially relevant today.

Over the past several years, difficult conversations have strained relationships in communities across Canada. Too often, polarization has overshadowed our shared humanity. Yet, some of the most encouraging moments have come from people choosing another path: dialogue instead of division, partnership instead of polarization, curiosity instead of suspicion.

Those choices rarely make headlines, but they are the choices that strengthen communities. They are the choices that define British Columbia at its best.

This belief in connection is reflected in the recent evolution of the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver to the Jewish Federation of British Columbia. While it may appear to be a simple name change, it reflects a larger reality. Jewish life in this province is no longer centred in one city. Today, nearly 30 Jewish communities across British Columbia are helping shape a shared future, and our responsibility is to ensure that every community has the opportunity to thrive, and to support an increasingly connected province. The transformation reflects a belief that, despite differences in geography, background or experience, we are stronger when we remain connected.

That vision extends well beyond the Jewish community. British Columbia has always been strongest when people from different backgrounds choose to invest in one another. Guided by the enduring presence of Indigenous peoples and enriched by generations of newcomers and families who have called this province home, we continue to foster a shared future, one where people continue to build bridges rather than walls. Diversity is not simply something we celebrate. It is something we sustain through relationships, participation and a commitment to the common good.

For more than 160 years, Jewish British Columbians have sought to contribute to that vision. Philanthropy has long been one of the ways our community expresses its values, supporting not only Jewish organizations but also hospitals, universities, social service agencies, cultural institutions and countless initiatives that strengthen life across this province. This tradition reflects a simple belief: when one community succeeds, we all benefit.

The same spirit continues today through volunteerism, civic engagement and partnerships that bring people together across communities. BC Day reminds us that our lives are shaped by the people who show up for us. It is also a reminder that stronger communities are built by those who show up for one another. The neighbour who offers a welcome. The volunteer who lends a hand. The leader who creates opportunities for people to connect. The bridge-builders who choose understanding over division.

These acts may seem small, but, over time, they create something extraordinary. They create belonging.

In a world where it is often easier to focus on what separates us, there may be no greater gift we can give one another than the commitment to keep working toward making the province a place where everyone can belong – and there may be nothing more important than that.

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

Skills to live together

On May 26, Rabbi Dr. Laura Duhan Kaplan gave the public lecture From Conflict to Connection: Spiritual Community in Stressful Times at the annual conference of Vancouver School of Theology’s Inter-Religious Studies Program. (screenshot)

The Walking Together: Sharing the Work and Ideas That Call to Us conference, hosted by Vancouver School of Theology’s Inter-Religious Studies Program last month, included, as it always does, a public lecture. This year’s address was given on May 26 by Rabbi Dr. Laura Duhan Kaplan, dean of the ALEPH Ordination Program, the Jewish Renewal seminary; former director of inter-religious studies at VST; and rabbi emerita of Or Shalom Synagogue. Her topic was From Conflict to Connection: Spiritual Community in Stressful Times.

Duhan Kaplan began and ended her talk with Linda Hirschhorn’s “Circle Chant,” a song about peace, human rights, environmental and intergenerational stewardship.

“If we are talking about the world, or the community, or the variety of communities as a circle,” she said, “let’s get real – it’s not a perfect circle. We are many different people doing many different things, overlapping, intersecting, sometimes clashing. That’s the kind of circle that we have, that we are working with when we try to make things whole.”

She shared a well-known quote from Rabbi Tarfon that is found in the Pirkei Avot, which she translated as Basic Aphorisms, rather than the more common Ethics of the Fathers. She read Tarfon’s adage about the day being short and the work plentiful and, while it is not up to us to finish the work, we’re not free to avoid it.

“What is the work?” the rabbi asked. “Here are some of the kinds of work that people at this conference are going to be talking about: work in climate, food security, interfaith, multicultural community, decolonization, indigenous learning, spiritual care, nonviolence, protest, arts, ritual, refugee support, theology.”

Based on the book Liquid Times: Living in an Age of Uncertainty by Zygmunt Bauman, Duhan Kaplan said we’re living in a globalized world that has not delivered on its promises of integration and freedom.

“In fact, globalization has become primarily the work of a small group of highly wealthy, highly influential people, and what it has brought almost everyone else is increasing income inequality, more displaced people, more incarcerated people, more environmental devastation, more elite criminality, more precarity (that is, precarious life), more anxiety,” said Duhan Kaplan, summarizing Bauman’s ideas.

She spoke about the politics of fear and polarization, which are enforced through segregation: neighbourhoods are increasingly monoethnic and an increased police presence keeps people out of certain places, she contended. “At the national level, in many countries, we have a closing of borders.”

Cities, spiritual communities and social service agencies are left to deal with these global problems, she said, giving an example from her work.

“Let’s say we have a conflict in a class between students and teacher. The students say there’s so much in our religious tradition that is racist. And it’s true…. But, when the students speak to the teacher about it, the teacher says, young adults today don’t respect their teachers the way they used to. And that’s true too,” she said.

Direct dialogue between the parties would be ideal, but “because of habits of polarization, people are saying, no, we don’t even want to talk about it.” Rather than encouraging communication, people have suggested excluding individuals who hold opposing viewpoints, she said. “But why would we do that? We’re a microcosm of the world. We want to be that crazy, misshapen circle, and we want to live together. Isn’t that an essential pastoral skill?”

Duhan Kaplan gave another example.

“Two students in the program are tasked with leading a prayer service together and they want to pray for peace, but one of them identifies themself as an antizionist and the other one identifies themself as a Zionist, and they don’t know how to pray together for the worldwide community of Jews. They’re just paralyzed. And so, they appeal to us, the administration, and they say, tell them they’re wrong. And we say, well, we don’t do that. How about we sit in a room with both of you?… But the students are reticent to do that because, in our larger environment, what is modeled is cutting people off rather than building a community of difference.”

Duhan Kaplan talked more of Bauman, who realized that living together in a multi-class, multi-ethnic place requires skill.

One necessary skill is “the ability to work through miscomprehension – when you say something and you mean something, and somebody else who sees the situation in an entirely different way thinks you meant the opposite,” the rabbi explained.

“We need the ability to persevere, to keep talking in order to work through these issues,” she said, but the current social environment shuts down these skills, and so we end up in a cycle that Bauman calls myxophobia.

“We start off with a fear of the unknown … and it takes skill to deal with that: inner strength, communal support, faith in the future,” she explained. “When we don’t have those things, our fear of the unknown searches for a target. Oh, if only that unknown thing were known or, worse, if only that unknown thing were removed.”

Limiting immigration might make people safer for a period, for example. But, when there are fewer new people in a person’s life, anyone new will seem even more scary, she said, and a person’s epistemic courage, courage to learn, diminishes.

To stop the cycle, we must question propaganda, and become skilled in hearing what is uncomfortable, she said, pointing to a couple of tendencies that make this hard, including “the hasty generalization fallacy.” This is when we make broad conclusions from a small piece of information, like judging every Iranian based on how you feel about your uncle from Iran, who you don’t like.

Generalizations help us protect ourselves, Duhan Kaplan acknowledged, “but we also have to realistically ask: Is this a situation in which I need to protect myself? What is at stake here? If we are not talking our immediate protection, then we can think critically.”

Another hurdle, she said, is the “false dichotomy, false bifurcation, the either-or fallacy … claiming that there are only two options when in fact there are many more. Like the students trying to figure out how to pray. Should we pray for the well-being of Israelis? Or should we pray for the well-being of Palestinians? We can’t do both because that’s too complicated. How will we work out the words? Of course, if you’re training to be a clergy person, it is your job to work out the words, and those skills will come, even if they haven’t come right now.”

Duhan Kaplan also discussed the “bandwagon effect,” which she described as “the 53 million people can’t be wrong fallacy. Oh, yes, they can.”

She has adopted a principle: “If everyone agrees on something, I say, wait a minute, isn’t there also another way to look at this? And there’s a mythical teaching in our tradition about the Sanhedrin, ancient Jewish court, when a death penalty case came before this jury of 70 judges. If there is a unanimous guilty verdict, the person is freed, because there couldn’t possibly have been a unanimous verdict without groupthink. And, when people’s lives are at stake, we don’t want groupthink. We want something nuanced, something we can work together on.”

The rabbi talked about how to listen: “What is the inner work that we do? We quiet the mind. And, to quiet the mind, that takes courage, because you have to say to yourself, I trust that I’m going to be able to understand what I’m hearing…. I trust I’m going to be able to respond.”

Listening, feeling what another person is feeling, hearing what’s important to them, might engender strong reactions, she warned. “Conflict resolution work, courageous work, meeting difference, solving problems, doesn’t always feel good … you might not be happy with what you learn about other people, you might not be happy with what you learn about yourself…. And, of all the points that I made tonight, that’s the one I want people to most take to heart: there’s nothing wrong with you if the work is hard.”

One of Duhan Kaplan’s strategies in this time of heightened anxiety is to recite the 13 Attributes of Compassion.

“Where these come from is in the Bible, when Moses is at Mount Sinai, and he says to God, show me your face, and God says, you can’t see my face, but you can see my after-effects…. What is my true essence? This is what is revealed: God, the ineffable one, compassion, tenderness, patience, forbearance, kindness, awareness. I’m carrying love for thousands of years; lifting guilt, letting go of mistakes; allowing freedom and a fresh start.

“Not immediately,” she said. “Takes time. In fact, the Bible says it might take four generations for all these processes to work through, but, the point is, when I find myself angry and constricted, I will pause and I will recite this mantra.”

Another thing Duhan Kaplan does, when she needs it, is “the Examen, the examination of consciousness,” as taught by St. Ignatius of Loyola (1491-1556), founder of the Jesuit order.

“You find as quiet a space as you can find,” she said. “You allow yourself to become aware of divine presence, whatever that means to you…. And then you review the day with gratitude … you pay attention to your emotions … just notice. And then choose one thing that’s on your heart and mind and pray in the way that you pray…. And then, at the end, you look toward tomorrow and you say whatever it is has come out of your reflection.”

In the Jewish tradition, she said, Aaron “is the consummate peacemaker” and one of his lessons for us is that, if we do the work of peacemaking, “some kinds of peace will come.”

She circled back to Rabbi Tarfon: “we don’t have that much time, there’s so much to do.… It’s not up to you to finish the work … but you have to do something.”

Learning to bridge divides

A friend from my grad school, Jill, has a distinguished academic career. She’s now the chair of her university’s religious studies department. She’s co-authored a book on dialogue in education and works with an organization called Essential Partners, which “helps people build relationships across differences to address their communities’ most pressing challenges.” This work shows great promise in helping people listen and learn from one another.

This dialogue-oriented academic approach draws on the Socratic seminar, an ancient learning technique I was taught as a young teacher. It gets students to interact, do analysis and to listen carefully to one another.

I was thrilled that this technique was used in one of my twins’ public school English classes. His regular teacher was on leave and an experienced, retired teacher took over the classes as a long-term sub. As a former English teacher, I watched my Grade 9 student dig into the material. He did prep work to learn how to participate, including writing journal entries and eventually producing a literary analysis essay. The cherry on top was that this whole unit focused on Elie Wiesel’s book Night. The students finally accessed some Holocaust education (mandated by the province but not previously implemented) as part of this rigorous unit.

Then my kid reported that classmates said the sub was “trying to Jewify” them. Later, classmates said he only got high marks because he was Jewish and a teacher’s pet. In a polarized political climate, this teacher did everything right to facilitate safe dialogue and teach important texts. Even so, antisemitism popped up – showing how necessary dialogue like this is for our society at this moment.

Our household likes to discuss and debate. We don’t shy away from difficult topics. I think we succeed at this type of conversation at the dinner table, though we could all benefit from improvement in our listening habits.

When I became a parent, I stepped back from the academic work I used to love. I became a caretaker when we had twins, due to health challenges. I also mostly stopped teaching, due to all the moves necessary for my husband’s work.

To “get back” some of this work, I’ve explored different opportunities in the last year. I spoke on “finding hope,” as part of an ethics, politics and humanity panel at an interfaith conference. I committed to teaching two workshops at Limmud. In another foray, I took advantage of a podcast’s call for entries and applied. This local academic podcast focuses on “peopling the past.” They requested submissions to examine the relevance of the ancient world in understanding contemporary issues.

I wanted to explore how the Babylonian Talmud, in tractates Zevachim and Menachot, examines boundaries, definitions and understandings of “appropriate sacrifice.” I saw fascinating parallels between this ancient discussion and how textbook definitions of words like “apartheid,” “genocide” and “colonization” are being manipulated today. I thought it could make a great case study of how the Talmud recorded hundreds of years of comparison and dialogue between rabbis (scholars) and how that model might be applied to analytic discussion today.

The rabbis disagreed about definitions and details. It was a high stakes conversation for them. Ritual sacrifice in the Temple was a thing of the past, but they felt it essential to understand and record the right way to do this, so the Jewish people would know how to manage if the Temple were rebuilt. Further, if the Temple is never rebuilt, what could we learn from the “right” and holy way to do sacrifice?

Months passed. The deadline for hearing back from the podcast organizers passed. I inquired politely but heard nothing. Then, I did something I should have done in the first place. I researched more about the nearby academic organizing this. I learned this academic was heavily invested in Palestinian activism. Once I read this, I figured I would never even hear back about my proposal. Yet, to my surprise, I got a polite form letter, which (of course) turned down my submission.

My pitch might not have been competitive. I’ve got two master’s degrees but no PhD or university affiliation. The topic maybe was too controversial. Perhaps my write-up was too plainspoken. After sleeping on it, I realized none of that mattered. In fact, I was relieved. After all, considering my family’s challenges in listening more and talking less at the Shabbat table, I wondered if I could have pulled off a podcast conversation with a person so firmly entrenched in an opposing and confrontational viewpoint.

Studying Daf Yomi (a page of Talmud a day) since January 2020 helps me shed light on these career-building experiences. Every day, I read rabbis’ debates, over centuries, that model dialogue and analytic questioning. There are aspects of the Socratic seminar in these texts and the ways in which scholars build relationships and bridge differences to solve their communities’ challenges. Repeatedly, I see this difficult, but meaningful, process play out between rabbis who lived almost 2,000 years ago, in a text compiled a little over 1,500 years ago.

A reflective teacher evaluates what was or wasn’t successful in an assignment or lesson plan. This recent rejection allowed me that reflection. I’d take off points if I assessed myself. First, I failed to do enough research to realize that this podcast, while geographically convenient, wasn’t a good fit for ideological reasons. Second, it helped me examine ways I can grow as a listener and work to create meaningful spaces for respectful, safe dialogue across deep divides. Studying Talmud for a few minutes a day, across six years, gives me even more respect for the role of civilized, rigorous discussion and safe spaces to disagree. Some people aren’t ready to grow this way. They cannot leave space for that intellectual growth. When challenged, they respond with rejection or name calling, as my kid experienced.

Finally, I realized why sometimes academics spend a lot of grant money and time on choosing the “right” professor to travel to their institution. It’s sometimes too uncomfortable to sit in the room with someone who is not an easy match. Still, we might learn more from the dialogue with those more challenging discussion partners. Learning to bridge divides and live together is sometimes the most meaningful work, after all.

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.

Music to build bridges

On Nov. 29, sopranos Jaclyn Grossman, left, and Miriam Khalil will perform Salam-Shalom: Echoes of Home, a program they put together in an effort “to build bridges between our communities.”

“Salam-Shalom: Echoes of Home grew out of countless conversations between Miriam and me over the past few years – conversations that gave me a lot of hope during a difficult time,” Jaclyn Grossman told the Independent about her upcoming concert with fellow soprano Miriam Khalil.

“We shared what we were each experiencing, what our communities were going through, and how we might better understand and support one another,” said Grossman. “We both felt a deep need to do something meaningful and to use our voices and our art to foster empathy, connection and healing. This project is deeply meaningful to me because I hope it can create a space for reflection, healing and understanding for our communities, and for anyone who connects with its themes of home, acceptance and belonging. I truly believe we are stronger when we stand together, and I hope this concert helps build bridges that make that possible.”

Grossman and Khalil will be accompanied on piano by Gordon Gerrard, artistic director of City Opera Vancouver, which is presenting the concert. Idan Cohen (Ne.Sans Opera & Dance) will lend his experience in stage and movement, and Avideh Saadatpajouh has created projections that, among other things, highlight some of the textual elements.

“Jaclyn is a beautiful person and has always been someone that I have connected with,” said Khalil about why she wanted to be involved with the production. “Through many of our conversations, our shared dialogue grew and became something we realized we both needed in order to find healing. Jaclyn had mentioned that she had spoken to Gordon about the possibility of creating something together. What made this project so special was our dialogue from the very beginning. Through numerous meetings, we spoke about finding a way through song, language and poetry to create a space for healing and shared empathy and, most importantly, to build bridges between our communities. We longed for the same thing, peace and human connection – this recital is an extension of that longing and an expression of hope.”

As for his participation, Gerrard said he became interested after a conversation with Grossman more than a year ago. “I was distressed to hear that she had had several concert appearances canceled over recent months,” he said. “It seemed to me that many organizations seemed hesitant to present Jewish and Arab artists out of fear of controversy. The program was suggested by Jaclyn as a direct way to counteract this.”

Pianist Gordon Gerrard, artistic director of City Opera Vancouver. (photo from City Opera Vancouver)

About the risk of City Opera Vancouver being “canceled” for presenting Salam-Shalom, Gerrard said, “Certainly, we have committed to this special event after careful consideration of the charged environment that we are all a part of right now. We wanted to be sure that we acted responsibly, and that we would be able to create a respectful space for everyone involved. Because I trust Jaclyn, Miriam and Idan entirely, we’ve been able to have many helpful conversations about this event and how to go about it. This has given us at City Opera confidence that we are doing something that intends to create better understanding and, for us, this remains the priority.”

“Our goal with this project is to create a space for nuanced dialogue, where all voices can be heard and where empathy and understanding can grow,” said Grossman. “While this kind of work isn’t always easy, I believe it’s essential. In times like these, it’s more important than ever for communities to come together, listen to one another, and foster compassion. To me, standing together in empathy and respect for all people feels like the only path forward.”

“My concern,” said Khalil, “is that we have a responsibility to one another. If we keep being afraid, then no change will ever take place. We must unite and listen to each other. As Jaclyn mentioned, without compassion and empathy, the way forward feels unattainable. There is great growth in seeing and appreciating one another’s perspective.”

Grossman and Khalil chose the repertoire, and the result will be a concert of “beautiful and seldom performed works entirely curated by the two of them,” said Gerrard.

The hour-long program comprises melodies from myriad musical heritages, including Arabic, Hebrew, Ladino, Spanish and Yiddish. The concert’s press release highlights “Eli, Eli,” an arrangement of a poem by Jewish-Hungarian resistance fighter Hannah Szenes during the Second World War; “Mermaid Songs” by Palestinian-American composer Felix Jarrar; “Ukolebavka,” a lullaby by Jewish composer Ilse Weber, who wrote and performed songs to comfort children when she was interned in Terezín; “Ayre,” by Argentine Jew Osvaldo Golijov, which explores the themes of exile and belonging using the words of a Hebrew prayer and those of Palestinian writer Mahmoud Darwish; and “The New Colossus,” a setting of Emma Lazarus’s poem (inscribed on the Statue of Liberty) by pianist and composer Nate Ben-Horin, who is part of Grossman’s duo, the Likht Ensemble. Another of the songs on the program is “Mi Lo Yeshalach,” by contemporary Israeli composer Hana Ajiashvili. The complete repertoire, with all the lyrics, has been posted on cityoperavancouver.com.

“To me, Salam-Shalom: Echoes of Home is an urgent expression of a voice that feels increasingly silenced,” said Cohen. “I believe the growing calls to silence or divide rather than engage in dialogue are deeply troubling. When Jaclyn, Miriam and Gordon reached out, I immediately said yes.

“This project also speaks to my responsibility to uphold these values and address the horrors we are living through, through art,” Cohen added. “It’s easy to see conflict in simple opposites – right and wrong, us and them – but true understanding asks us to face complexities.

“Art,” he said, “should remain a space for reflection and critical thought, not moral posturing. I believe in its power to unite, to reveal our shared humanity, and to keep hope for peace alive.”

For tickets to Salam-Shalom, go to cityoperavancouver.com.

Human rights in sport

Before the 2004 Summer Paralympic Games in Athens, Greece, organizers installed an elevator in the Acropolis. (photo from greecehighdefinition.com)

What does sports have to do with human rights? This was the question posed by Vancouver Jewish community leader Zena Simces as she and her spouse Simon Rabkin launched the seventh annual Simces and Rabkin Family Dialogue on Human Rights Oct. 23 in a national online event.

There is evidence of discrimination and exclusion, racism, sexism, ableism, athlete exploitation and maltreatment, labour rights violations, sex eligibility and gender identity issues and safety concerns in sport, Simces said. There are also funding issues, such as the high cost of participation in sport, including at the community level.

Sport is about more than just an active and healthy lifestyle, Simces noted, though it is about that, too.

“It can help to address social isolation and loneliness, which have been identified as major health concerns, not only for older adults, but also for children and youth,” she said. “Sports can be democratic, as it invites everyone to belong and contribute to strengthening and building community, but there is a dark side.”

The dialogue was moderated by Wendy MacGregor, a consultant, educator and lawyer who is the founder and executive director of Athlete Zone, a nonprofit that provides Canadians with support, guidance and education in the pursuit of healthy sports environments.

“Unfortunately, with all those wonderful attributes that sports brings, it is not accessible to everyone worldwide and not even to all Canadians,” said MacGregor. She cited statistics indicating that youth participation numbers “are dropping off a cliff and especially girls are dropping out of sport.”

Some of the reasons for this include increased costs, travel time, difficulty of access to facilities, discrimination, maltreatment or abuse in sport and the increased commercialization of sport.

Panelist Bryan Heal, the social impact research lead at Maple Leaf Sports and Entertainment, spoke about a program his organization is involved with, called Change the Game, which advances youth access, equity and outcomes through sport.

Change the Game has engaged more than 25,000 young people around Ontario, he said, addressing factors of race, gender, ability, household income, geography and other factors around access and barriers.

More than 80% of young people who have participated in the program, he said, have experienced themselves or are aware of a problem in these areas but do not feel like they have anyone that they can talk to about it.

“There’s a culture and strategy of silence that is employed by default,” said Heal. “In a team environment, it can be incredibly isolating and deflating when you’re harbouring something like that. It draws people away to other sports, sometimes to leaving sports entirely.”

Jeff Adams, a lawyer specializing in labour, employment and human rights issues, is a decorated Paralympian, having won three gold medals in wheelchair races.

Accommodating different needs is fundamental and, too often, he said, excuses are made, such as the argument that sports facilities are often in buildings that are too old to be made fully accessible.

Before the 2004 Summer Paralympic Games in Athens, Greece, organizers installed an elevator in the Acropolis. “You want to talk about the most historically relevant building in the world,” he said. “It’s the cradle of civilization, and they put an elevator in it.”

An attitude exists that basic Canadian laws, embodied in the Charter of Rights and Freedoms, do not apply to the playing field, he argued.

“We are not applying the fundamental supreme law of Canada to athletes who are bleeding for their country in competition,” Adams said. “We have laws that work. We have anti-violence and harassment legislation baked into labour and employment laws.”

Amreen Kadwa, founder and executive director of Hijabi Ballers, a Toronto nonprofit creating positive experiences in sport for Muslim girls and women, said her group’s programs provide more than just access to sport.

“They create safe, culturally affirming spaces where women can play without judgment,” she said. “They can learn new skills, they can grow in their confidence and, beyond sport, we nurture leadership. It really is human rights in action.”

Female athletes face far more violence and discrimination in sport than their male counterparts, Kadwa said.

“But this number is even higher for racialized women,” she said. “Muslim women, a lot of them who are hijab-wearing Muslim women, are often seen as outsiders, whether through their outfits, their clothing, the stereotype, a lack of cultural understanding.”

The annual dialogue event is a partnership with the Canadian Museum for Human Rights and Equitas, an international centre for human rights education.

Talking about antisemitism

The administration of U.S. President Joe Biden released its National Strategy to Counter Antisemitism recently. Unveiled by First Gentleman Doug Emhoff, Jewish husband of Vice-President Kamala Harris, the strategy rests on four main pillars: to increase awareness and understanding of antisemitism, including its threat to America, and broadening appreciation of Jewish American heritage; to improve safety and security for Jewish communities; to reverse the normalization of antisemitism and counter antisemitic discrimination; and to build cross-community solidarity and collective action to counter hate.

Canadian officials at the federal and provincial levels have also convened summits on the subject and introduced a range of strategies and programs to confront the problem. This recognition at the highest levels is crucial. As antisemitism has increased in North America and Western Europe, elected officials have overwhelmingly, with some notable exceptions, said and done the right things.

In his remarks at the launch of the U.S. strategy, Emhoff called for a “whole-of-society” approach to the problem. And this short reference is vital. Governments have been grappling with the rising problem of antisemitism and some other allies, organizations, antiracism activists and commentators have addressed it, but there is not a larger societal conversation about it.

We have not seen much discussion of antisemitism beyond the Jewish community the way we have seen contemporary popular engagement with, for example, anti-Black racism, as witnessed through the Black Lives Matter movement; women’s equality, as addressed through many approaches, including #MeToo; and Indigenous issues, most recently in Canada with the Truth and Reconciliation Commission.

The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice, as Martin Luther King Jr. said. There has been hard-won progress in the six decades since the milestones of the Black Civil Rights Movement. But, sadly, most white people only became more engaged in recent years, as outrage over police-involved shootings and similar injustices became top stories. These spurred conversations at dinner tables, in work lunchrooms, boardrooms and among friends.

We have seen similar leaps forward in awareness and discussion around issues faced by Indigenous peoples in Canada, and those exchanges have likewise taken place at the person-to-person level, involving Indigenous and non-Indigenous people, but also as importantly, between non-Indigenous people themselves.

The #MeToo movement and a greater openness to talking about violence against women and gender equality are other cornerstones of social change in the past few generations.

Perhaps no single example of progress is more stunning than attitudes toward LGBTQ+ people, which has gone from literal criminal prohibition to a level of social acceptance in less than a single average lifetime. This, too, is a result of connecting at the personal level. Legislation and leadership from elected officials, clergy, journalists and commentators and other thought leaders have been important. But the thing that has the most power to change hearts and minds is hearing personal stories from people affected and hashing out moral questions among friends.

While other forms of discrimination and bias have been confronted to varying degrees, antisemitism is on a precarious upswing, but the public dialogue has yet to begin.

There is no single explanation for why this is so, but one undeniable characteristic of antisemitism is the trope of “Jewish power.” In the simplest formulation, if Jews are powerful, why would activists and antiracism advocates devote resources to this cause? This is especially true in the context of the larger discussion on race currently taking place, which emphasizes power versus powerlessness.

There are other reasons. Canada’s Jewish community is comparatively tiny and overwhelmingly concentrated in Toronto and Montreal. People in other parts of the country might not know many Jews – and knowing members of a minority community has been shown to be the likeliest prerequisite to overcoming prejudice (though it is by no means foolproof, of course).

Another factor is that, even for non-Jews who know Jewish people, those Jews may not be comfortable opening up about discrimination and oppression they have faced. Too often, Jews have been told, implicitly or explicitly, that they are not disadvantaged but privileged, that the Jewish people’s time as the victim du jour is passed. Complicating the discussion is the chasm of miscommunication and misunderstanding between Jewish and non-Jewish Canadians on issues relating to Israel and the centrality of the cradle of Jewish peoplehood in the hearts of nearly all Jews, regardless of affiliation, ideology or other differences.

As is the case with other minority groups, it should not be left to Jewish people to fight the discrimination against them and its associated manifestations. But it is, for the most part. Jews need to be prepared to start these conversations, and this involves educating ourselves, so that we can better articulate what are often painful and vulnerable personal relationships with discrimination.

Governments and Jewish agencies are doing what they can to confront antisemitism. Ordinary people, chatting with friends and colleagues, need to help bring this work to an interpersonal level. In an environment where Jewish experiences with discrimination are often actively mocked, this is a tall order. But it is even more reason we need to share our experiences and ideas more broadly – to start more discussions.

Rights in the digital age

Taylor Owen, one of Canada’s leading experts on digital media ethics, is the featured speaker at this year’s Simces & Rabkin Family Dialogue on Human Rights event Nov. 9. (photo from cigionline.org)

On Nov. 9, the Simces & Rabkin Family Dialogue on Human Rights, in partnership with the Canadian Museum for Human Rights, hosts the online program Is Facebook a Threat to Democracy? A Conversation About Rights in the Digital Age.

Platforms like Facebook, which collect and share huge amounts of information, are being accused of putting profit above democracy and the public good. Can government regulation protect us and our children from online harm and misinformation – or is “Big Tech” ungovernable? How can Canadians balance freedom of expression and protection from harm on social media?

These questions and many others will be discussed by Taylor Owen in conversation with Jessica Johnson.

Owen is the Beaverbrook Chair in Media, Ethics and Communications, the founding director of the Centre for Media, Technology and Democracy, and an associate professor in the Max Bell School of Public Policy at McGill University. He is the host of the Centre for International Governance Innovation’s Big Tech podcast, and is also a senior fellow of CIGI. His work focuses on the intersection of media, technology and public policy.

Johnson is editor-in-chief at The Walrus magazine. A former editor at the Globe & Mail and National Post newspapers, she is an award-winning journalist who has contributed essays, features and criticism to a wide range of North American publications. She was the co-creator, with Maclean’s journalist Anne Kingston, of #MeToo and the Media, an inaugural course in the University of Toronto’s Book and Media Studies program.

The Simces & Rabkin Family Dialogue on Human Rights will be on Zoom on Nov. 9 from noon to 1:30 p.m. PST. It will include an audience Q&A session opportunity. Register to attend the event via humanrights.ca/is-facebook-a-threat-to-democracy. Once registered, you will receive a confirmation email and, later, a reminder for the event.

– Courtesy Simces & Rabkin Family Dialogue on Human Rights

Having the hard discussions

Rabbi Hanan Schlesinger, above, and Noor A’wad of Roots Palestinian-Israeli Network were the featured speakers at Vancouver School of Theology’s Two Truths in One Heart; Two Peoples in One Land event May 27. (photo from friendsofroots.net)

Two Truths in One Heart; Two Peoples in One Land, a discussion on the Roots Palestinian-Israeli Network, with speakers Rabbi Hanan Schlesinger and Noor A’wad, took place on May 27 as part of the Religion and Thoughtful Activism conference organized by the Vancouver School of Theology (VST).

Formed in 2014 by peace activist Ali Abu Awwad and Schlesinger, Roots is a group based in the Gush Etzion settlements of the West Bank that believes the path towards peace between Palestinians and Israelis is through dialogue.

“In the West Bank, Jews and Arabs live completely separately with no connections at all,” said Schlesinger, an Orthodox rabbi, passionate Zionist settler and director of international relations for Roots. Everything, he explained – from legal systems to health systems, transportation to universities – is separate. The separation is so complete that Palestinians are forbidden from entering Israeli areas and vice versa.

“If I were to say that there is no common ground between Jews and Palestinians, I would not be exaggerating, and I would not be speaking metaphorically. There is literally no common ground as far as geography goes. If there had been a place for a crazy Israeli Jew and a Palestinian who wanted to meet for coffee, there would have been no place to do it,” he suggested.

At least, this was the case, he said, until seven years ago, when Roots was formed and when the Dignity Centre, a community centre where the two sides can meet with equality and mutual recognition, was created.

Schlesinger spoke of the great apprehension and trepidation each side has in coming together at such a place. Yet, often, at the end of an event at the centre, people come to Schlesinger, saying how wonderful the simple experience of conversing with a member of the other side is.

“People are amazed to discover that ‘the other’ is a lot like us. It’s hard to fathom after all the stereotypes and all we on both sides have been taught,” he said.

He likened the animosity each side has to a disease he called “the hubris of exclusivity,” which infects people with a “virus” that makes them believe that their people are the only legitimate people in the region.

Charting his own journey, Schlesinger recounted that, during his first encounters with Palestinians, he began learning that there were not one but two stories in the land where he lives. “For 33 years, I lived in my story and the Palestinians didn’t exist. They were part of the grey drab scenery that passes in the background of a movie but not part of the plot,” he recalled.

He spoke of his initial distrust of Palestinians and his profound reluctance to meet them – a distrust and reluctance shared by his Palestinian interlocutors during their first meetings. Implicit, too, in the unwillingness to meet was the fear that each side had of the other, Schlesinger said.

Noor A’wad, a licensed Palestinian tour guide based in Bethlehem, where he takes English speakers on geopolitical tours, spoke of his family’s long history in the land.

photo - Noor A’wad of Roots Palestinian-Israeli Network — Noor A’wad of Roots Palestinian-Israeli Network *(photo from friendsofroots.net)*

“I remember growing up during the Second Intifada – some of my family members were killed, others arrested – realizing that this is not a normal life and asking myself why am I living this abnormal life under occupation? The simple answer to the question is, because I am a Palestinian,” A’wad said.

He considered leaving the area, but that urge was outweighed by a sense of responsibility and a sense that there was no other option but to stay in order to best serve his people. Ultimately, he came to learn about nonviolent solutions to conflict.

A’wad described his change of heart upon getting involved with Roots: “When Rabbi Hanan spoke about his identity as a Jew and a settler, these are very loaded words and terminology that is connected to the conflict. For him, I was able to see how beautiful this terminology is because it is part of his identity.

For me, the same terminology is connected to the suffering my people have.”

For A’wad, as with Schlesinger, the acts of sitting and listening to the other were enormously challenging. Nonetheless, each persevered and, in the process, they discovered a partner in dialogue and perhaps the most effective way of understanding the humanity of the other – finding mutual empathy and thereby creating a means to achieve peace.

“What I discovered in Roots is the foundation for any peace process,” said A’wad.

The event was organized by Rabbi Laura Duhan-Kaplan, VST’s director of inter-religious studies. “Our students – most but not all are Christian – are very interested in news about Israel and Palestine. They see Israel as their beloved Holy Land. So, we wanted to introduce them to one of the many NGOs there doing collaborative peace-building work,” she told the Independent.

“I’ve been a supporter of Roots for some years now. Rabbi Schlesinger is a colleague and friend from Clal’s Rabbis Without Borders fellowship program. Still, this event would not have happened without the help of Quebec psychotherapist Colleen MacDougall, another Roots supporter,” she added.

For more information on Roots, visit friendsofroots.net.

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

Our rights in the age of AI

Dr. Rumman Chowdhury, chief executive officer and founder of Parity, gave the keynote address at the Simces & Rabkin Family Dialogue on Human Rights. (photo from rummanchowdhury.com)

Data and social scientist Dr. Rumman Chowdhury provided a wide-ranging analysis on the state of artificial intelligence and the implications it has on human rights in a Nov. 19 talk. The virtual event was organized by the Canadian Museum for Human Rights in Winnipeg and Vancouver’s Zena Simces and Dr. Simon Rabkin for the second annual Simces & Rabkin Family Dialogue on Human Rights.

“We still need human beings thinking even if AI systems – no matter how sophisticated they are – are telling us things and giving us input,” said Chowdhury, who is the chief executive officer and founder of Parity, a company that strives to help businesses maintain high ethical standards in their use of AI.

A common misperception of AI is that it looks like futuristic humanoids or robots, like, for example, the ones in Björk’s 1999 video for her song “All is Full of Love.” But, said Chowdhury, artificial intelligence is instead computer code, algorithms or programming language – and it has limitations.

“Cars do not drive us. We drive cars. We should not look at AI as though we are not part of the discussion,” she said.

screenshot - In her presentation Nov. 19 at the Simces & Rabkin Family Dialogue on Human Rights, Dr. Rumman Chowdhury highlighted the 2006 Montreal Declaration of Human Rights. — In her presentation Nov. 19 at the Simces & Rabkin Family Dialogue on Human Rights, Dr. Rumman Chowdhury highlighted the 2006 Montreal Declaration of Human Rights.

The 2006 Montreal Declaration of Human Rights has served as an important framework in the age of artificial intelligence. The central tenets of that declaration include well-being, respect for autonomy and democratic participation. Around those concepts, Chowdhury addressed human rights in the realms of health, education and privacy.

Pre-existing biases have permeated healthcare AI, she said, citing the example of a complicated algorithm from care provider Optum that prioritized less sick white patients over more sick African-American patients.

“Historically, doctors have ignored or downplayed symptoms in Black patients and given preferential treatment to white patients – this is literally in the data,” explained Chowdhury. “Taking that data and putting it into an algorithm simply trains it to repeat the same actions that are baked into the historical record.”

Other reports have shown that an algorithm used in one region kept Black patients from getting kidney transplants, leading to patient deaths, and that COVID-19 relief allocations based on AI were disproportionately underfunding minority communities.

“All algorithms have bias because there is no perfect way to predict the future. The problem occurs when the biases become systematic, when there is a pattern to them,” she said.

Chowdhury suggested that citizens have the right to know when algorithms are being used, so that the programs can be examined critically and beneficial outcomes to all people can be ensured, with potential harms being identified and corrected responsibly.

With respect to the increased use of technology in education, she asked, “Has AI ‘disrupted’ education or has it simply created a police state?” Here, too, she offered ample evidence of how technology has sometimes gone off course. For instance, she shared a news report from this spring from the United Kingdom, where an algorithm was used by the exam regulator Ofqual to determine the grades of students. For no apparent reason, the AI system downgraded the results of 40% of the students, mostly those in vulnerable economic situations.

Closer to home, a University of British Columbia professor, Ian Linkletter, was sued this year by the tech firm Proctorio for a series of tweets critical of its remote testing software, which the university was using. Linkletter shared his concerns that this kind of technology does not, in his mind, foster a love of learning in the way it monitors students and he called attention to the fact that a private company is collecting and storing data on individuals.

To combat the pernicious aspects of ed tech from bringing damaging consequences to schooling, Chowdhury thinks some fundamental questions should be asked. Namely, what is the purpose of educational technology in terms of the well-being of the student? How are students’ rights protected? How can the need to prevent the possibility that some students may cheat on exams be balanced with the rights of the majority of students?

“We are choosing technology that punishes rather than that which enables and nurtures,” she said.

Next came the issue of privacy, which, Chowdhury asserted, “is fascinating because we are seeing this happen in real-time. Increasingly, we have a blurred line between public and private.”

She distinguished between choices that a member of the public may have as a consumer in submitting personal data to a company like Amazon versus a government organization. While a person can decide not to purchase from a particular company, they cannot necessarily opt out of public services, which also gather personal information and use technology – and this is a “critical distinction.”

Chowdhury showed the audience a series of disturbing news stories from over the past couple of years. In 2018, the New Orleans Police Department, after years of denial, admitted to using AI that sifted through data from social media and criminal history to predict when a person would commit a crime. Another report came from the King’s Cross district of London, which has one of the highest concentrations of facial-recognition cameras of any region in the world outside of China, according to Chowdhury. The preponderance of surveillance technology in our daily lives, she warned, can bring about what has been deemed a “chilling effect,” or a reluctance to engage in legitimate protest or free speech, due to the fear of potential legal repercussions.

Then there are the types of surveillance used in workplaces. “More and more companies are introducing monitoring tech in order to ensure that their employees are not ‘cheating’ on the job,” she said. These technologies can intrude by secretly taking screenshots of a person’s computer while they are at work, and mapping the efficiency of employees through algorithms to determine who might need to be laid off.

“All this is happening at a time of a pandemic, when things are not normal. Instead of being treated as a useful contributor, these technologies make employees seem like they are the enemy,” said Chowdhury.

How do we enable the rights of both white- and blue-collar workers? she asked. How can we protect our right to peaceful and legitimate protest? How can AI be used in the future in a way that allows humans to reach their full potential?

In her closing remarks, Chowdhury asked, “What should AI learn from human rights?” She introduced the term “human centric” – “How can designers, developers and programmers appreciate the role of the human rights narrative in developing AI systems equitably?”

She concluded, “Human rights frameworks are the only ones that place humans first.”

Award-winning technology journalist and author Amber Mac moderated the lecture, which was opened by Angeliki Bogiatji, the interpretive program developer for the museum. Isha Khan, the museum’s new chief executive officer, welcomed viewers, while Simces gave opening remarks and Rabkin closed the broadcast.

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

***

Note: This article has been corrected to reflect that it was technology journalist and author Amber Mac who moderated the lecture.

Focus on online hate

Kasari Govender, British Columbia’s human rights commissioner. (photo from Wosk Centre)

Hate in British Columbia, in Canada and globally is on the rise. In 2017, there were 255 police-reported hate crimes in British Columbia, an increase of 55% from just two years earlier. In 2018, Metro Vancouver had the highest rate of hate crimes reported to police in any of Canada’s three largest metropolitan areas, most based on the victim’s ethnicity or religion, with a smaller but significant number based on sexual orientation.

These alarming statistics, and others, provided a framework and urgency for an event Sept. 12 at Simon Fraser University’s Morris J. Wosk Centre for Dialogue in downtown Vancouver. The event, titled From Hate to Hope in a Digital Age, is envisioned as the inaugural annual Simces and Rabkin Family Dialogue on Human Rights.

Contextualizing the discussion, Shauna Sylvester, executive director of the Wosk Centre for Dialogue, cited the results of a report undertaken by her organization. These indicate that one in three Canadians believes Canadian-born citizens should have greater say in government than those born outside the country. One-quarter of Canadians say we have too many protections for minorities and one in four also believes we have too many protections for religious freedom.

Keynote speaker at the forum was Kasari Govender, in just her second week on the job as British Columbia’s human rights commissioner. She is the first to hold this role in the province since that office was closed in 2002.

“In my view, there is a strong connection between hateful speech and hateful violence, both on an individual and a systemic level,” she said, citing racist manifestoes sometimes posted online by perpetrators in advance of a mass killing. She said it is necessary to trace the path from speech to violence.

A common theme of recent mass murderers is anti-immigration sentiment, sometimes emphasizing the “purity of the nation, whether that nation is Canada, New Zealand, the U.S. or another,” she said, adding that many of the attacks around the world that have been linked to white nationalism correspond to discourse in mainstream political debates over immigration and public policy.

The worst antisemitic mass murder in United States history, the attack on Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh in 2018, happened while U.S. President Donald Trump and others were promoting fears of the so-called “migrant caravan” coming from Central America. Part of that conversation, Govender said, “was somehow blaming the Jews for this migrant caravan, drawing a connection in the public discourse, and then there was the shooting.”

Boris Johnson, now prime minister of the United Kingdom, compared women who wear burqas to bank robbers, which led, Govender said, to an increase in acts of hate against Muslim women in the United Kingdom.

Online hate is a particular product of technologies that have emerged in recent decades, she said. “The anonymity, reach and immediacy afforded by the internet escalates the problem beyond what we’ve seen before,” she said. “The internet is a very effective tool for fomenting hate from belief to action, from hateful words to violent actions.”

While forcing social media platforms to police hate speech might be criticized as an infringement of free expression, she said, the opposite is true. Regulating platforms to shut down violent rhetoric actually improves access to freedom of expression for many, as people of colour, women and others are being silenced online by racism and misogyny, she said.

Participants at the Wosk Centre offered a wide range of perspectives.

Evan Balgord, executive director of the Canadian Anti-Hate Network, outlined the approach his agency takes in confronting online hatred.

“Legal [action] would be our last recourse against a hate group or a hate propagandist,” he noted, saying that their first response is to “try to hold somebody socially accountable.” That means, if the person is anonymous, exposing them. If the person is not anonymous, this might mean bringing their posts to the attention of their employers, family and friends.

“Those might provide checks on their behaviour,” he said, adding, “We’re not really trying to reform people here, we’re just trying to stop the spread of hate propaganda.”

For those who do not respond to social accountability, Balgord said, Canada’s laws are insufficient. Application of the Criminal Code’s section that deals with the wilful promotion of hate and distribution of hate propaganda is unwieldy.

“We did use to have a better recourse,” he said. “It was Section 13 of the Canadian Human Rights Act. It would allow a private individual to essentially file a complaint, which would be vetted by the Canadian Human Rights Commission and, if found credible, would go to the tribunal. They could order a cease-and-desist order against that individual and up to a $5,000 fine.” If, at that point, the individual failed to comply, they would be in contravention of a court order and could face jail.

“We really want to see something like Section 13 come back,” he said.

Several speakers agreed that social media platforms need to do more policing of hate speech. Some countries have laws that force social media companies to address hate material on their platforms within certain timeframes or face serious fines.

Social media platforms, Balgord said, may already be in contravention of Canada’s existing laws against discrimination in the provision of a commercial service, because women, people of colour, LGBTQ+ people and other members of targeted groups are exposed to abuse, harassment and death threats that could drive them off the platform.

Rabbi Dr. Laura Duhan-Kaplan, director of inter-religious studies at the Vancouver School of Theology, noted that government budgets are limited but that education can take place everywhere – and that everyone is an educator. Early childhood is crucial, she said.

“What children do together, the songs they sing, the books they read, all of that becomes the building blocks of the way they think,” she said. “All of us who interact with children have an opportunity to begin to teach values of respecting difference, helping others, nonviolence.… One week of summer camp with friends on a theme of diversity, peace, public service – these are experiences that stay with teens and we really, really bring them into young adulthood in a different way.”

A speaker from the audience, a counselor and educator, noted that inequality, including economic inequality and poverty, makes people susceptible to fear and that can become a foundation for hate.

Another speaker contended that there is, in effect, no such thing as race.

“I think it’s very problematic to use the term race as if it’s a reality,” he said. “There is such a thing as racism but not really race. If you look at the majority of anthropologists, geneticists and so on, they say that we have much, much more in common with each other [than differences].… Even using terms like black and white to refer to people reinforces racism. We never call people yellow anymore, because that’s racist. We need to come up with a new language that doesn’t emphasize unreal differences and that are respectful to everybody.”

Lorene Oikawa, president of the National Association of Japanese Canadians, contended that sharing one another’s stories is an effective means to education.

“People really don’t know the stories,” she said. “For sure, there are some people who do, but they don’t know the [extent of the] harm that was done and the intergenerational trauma.”

She applied lessons of the past to current events. “In 2019, Japanese-Americans, Japanese-Canadians are horrified by some of the hateful rhetoric we’re hearing [that] could be lifted from 1942,” she said. “If people knew their history, more people would be going, ‘Wait a minute. What we did back in 1942 was wrong. Why are we saying the same things about people from [other] countries, putting people in camps, separating families, separating children from their families?’ All that stuff happened to Japanese-Americans, Japanese-Canadians and it’s being repeated today.”

She added: “We feel it’s our duty that what happened to our community must never happen to another community again.”

Clint Curle, senior advisor to the president of the Canadian Museum for Human Rights, agreed that education is pivotal.

“Is there a lesson, an experience, we can give children especially that will make them resistant to hate speech and resistant to hateful violence?” asked Curle. He compared hatred to a communicable disease.

“If this was polio, what would we do? If this was polio, we would do what we did, which is vaccinate. The way vaccinations work is you get children and you give them just enough of something close to the disease [so] that they develop an internal resistance to it, so, when they encounter the disease, there is something within them that says, no. So, when they encounter hate, they’ll know.”

With more than 1.5 million visitors to the museum since it opened five years ago, Curle said what resonates, especially with young people, is exactly what Oikawa suggested.

“The thing that seems to work best is storytelling across social boundaries,” he said.

Zena Simces, a health and social service policy consultant and a former Pacific region chair of the now-defunct Canadian Jewish Congress, conceived of the annual event with her husband, Dr. Simon Rabkin.

“We felt that we wanted to enhance an understanding of human rights in our community and to create an opportunity for dialogue on human rights issues,” Simces said. “Our aim is to select current and relevant themes each year and to invite experts and community leaders and community members to advance and generate positive action.”

Rabkin, a cardiologist, professor of medicine at the University of British Columbia and president of the medical staff at Vancouver General Hospital, added: “The dialogue this evening … is seeking to enhance our understanding and knowledge of how this increase in hate and its consequences can be addressed from legal, social media and community perspectives.”