Features
“The Cure for Hate” – how a former neo-Nazi Skinhead turned his life around
By BERNIE BELLAN On Sunday, November 19, the Jewish Heritage Centre of Western Canada, in cooperation with the Jewish Federation, Westwood Collegiate, and an organization called “peace days,” screened a documentary film titled “The Cure for Hate – Bearing Witness to Auschwitz.” The film documents a visit made to Auschwitz by former neo-Nazi Skinhead Tony McAleer, during which he confronts his own violent past and discusses the long and complicated journey he has taken through his life
(As an aside, we also had a story in our January 19, 2022 issue, written by Jon Van Der Veen, in which Jon wrote about an interview he conducted with McAleer when Jon was a student in Atlantic Canada. You can find that story on our website, jewishpostandnews.ca..)
Following the screening of the film Tony McAleer was joined on stage at Westwood Collegiate by Westwood History teacher Kelly Hiebert to discuss the film. Also participating in the discussion was the film’s director, Peter Hutchison, who joined in via Zoom.
Interestingly, this was the second Sunday in a row that Westwood Collegiate, in cooperation with the Jewish Heritage Centre and the Jewish Federation – with particular thanks to Kelly Hiebert, served as the venue for the showing of a film and discussion afterward directly related to the subject of antisemitism. The November 12 event revolved around the screening of “Reckonings,” about which we wrote in our November 22 issue. (If you missed seeing that story you can also find it on our website
“The Cure for Hate” follows McAleer on a tour of Auschwitz, where he is accompanied by a Jewish Polish tour guide.
Here is a summary of the film’s storyline: “In the Jewish tradition, tshuvah means ‘return’, and describes the return to God and our fellow human beings that is made possible through repentance for our wrongs. Tony McAleer is a former Skinhead and Holocaust denier who went on to become a founding member of the anti-hate activist group Life After Hate. Profoundly aware and deeply ashamed of the lineage of hate he’d once promoted, Tony had long-contemplated traveling to Auschwitz in the spirit of tshuvah – to bear witness to the inconceivable ravages of the Holocaust, and deepen his personal work against the rise of extremist politics. This project documents his profoundly personal journey of atonement to Auschwitz/Birkenau – exploring the conditions that allowed for the rise of fascism in 1930s Europe; shedding a unique light upon how men get into, and out of, violent extremist groups; and serving as a cautionary tale for our time that underscores the dangers in allowing hate to be left unchecked.”
The film is fairly long – 74 minutes, and it is somewhat repetitious, as McAleer reiterates the shame he feels for his past over and over again, but it does offer some profound insights into what motivates many young men to be drawn to a violent neo-Nazi lifestyle.
At the beginning of the film, McAleer says he has often been asked: “How did you lose your humanity?”
He responds: “I didn’t lose it. I just kept it down until there was nothing left.”
As he begins his tour of Auschwitz, walking through the gate under the infamous sign that says, “Arbeit Macht Frei” (work will make you free), McAleer notes that when he used to get together with his Skinhead friends they would joke that when they’re done with the Jews the sign would read “Nothing will make you free.”
The film follows a pattern of McAleer walking along with the guide (who is often difficult to understand because of her heavy Polish accent), discussing his life and what led him to have an epiphany moment when he realized that the life he had been living was so wrong.
He observes at one point that “no one becomes a Nazi overnight. It’s a slow progression.”
As Jon Van Der Veen describes in his interview with McAleer, McAleer came from an affluent Vancouver family. According to Jon’s article, and something that is also mentioned in the film – although not to the extent it’s discussed in Jon’s interview, it was McAleer’s discovering that his father was having an affair that shattered his life and led him to descending into a downward spiral that culminated in his becoming a full-blown Neo-Nazi.
At one point, McAleer, who engages in quite a bit of introspection throughout the film, repeats something that was said to him by a psychiatrist who was treating McAleer: “All violence is an attempt to replace shame with self esteem.”
McAleer was influenced by a number of prominent Neo-Nazis, he says, whose names he recounts during the film, including; Richard Butter (who McAleer describes as the “spiritual leader” of the Aryan Nations, and who led the infamous 1978 march through a heavily Jewish neighbourhood in Skokie, Illinois which had a very high proportion of Holocaust survivors living there); Tom Metzger, of the White Aryan Resistance, and someone by the name of Lewis Beeton (although I may not have written that name down correctly since I could find no reference to anyone by that name on the internet).
Something that McAleer says during the film – and which is even more chilling than his description of his own long relationship with neo-Nazi ideology, is how so many neo-Nazi groups have been using the tactic of “mainstreaming,” whereby they educate their members to drop the appearance that is often associated with such groups, including uniform dress, scary tattoos and other such paraphernalia, and blend in with the “mainstream.”
Further, according to McAleer many neo-Nazis have been infiltrating police forces and armies in both Canada and the U.S. (Perhaps the most chilling story of such an infiltration came a few years ago when a member of the Canadian Armed Forces, Patrik Matthews, was unmasked as a member of a group known as “The Base,” thanks to the brilliant – and very brave investigative reporting of former Free Press reporter Ryan Thorpe.)
As the film progresses, McAleer describes the process through which he realized that his life had been a total waste. He acknowledges the contribution that his therapist, Charles Barron (who, incidentally, is Jewish), made to his coming to terms with what he had done with his life.
But, in treating him, McAleer says, Barron made him realize “This is what you did, it’s not who you are.”
The reason he had been attracted to neo-Nazi Skinhead ideology, McAleer observes, is out of a “search for longing and purpose.”
So, what turned McAleer around? There were two events that proved pivotal, he explains. One was the birth of a child. (He now has two, he noted during the discussion that followed the film, but he is no longer together with his children’s mother.)
The other event, he says in the film, “was receiving compassion from someone he didn’t expect it from.”
As well, he observes, “Allowing one to have compassion for oneself leads to compassion for others.”
Yet, in what comes as a dark warning toward the end of the film, McAleer states that “the inescapable truth is that white supremacist ideology, if left unchecked, always ends in violence.”
Following the film, McAleer and Peter Hutchison engaged in a discussion with Kelly Hiebert, followed by questions from the audience.
Kelly Hiebert asked McAleer whether there was “a transformative moment for you that led you to leave the movement?”
McAleer answered that “it was a process rather than a moment. For me it was the birth of my daughter. (His son was born 15 months later, he said.) Up until then I was a self-absorbed narcissist. I had been cut off from my emotional self.”
Someone in the audience asked Kelly Hiebert: “Why do you what you do?”
(Kelly Hiebert is a Governor General’s Award-winning educator who has made Holocaust education a key component of his teaching.)
Hiebert answered: “I do what I do to create a better world – for myself, my kids, and my students.”
Someone else asked Hiebert what he says to his students about what’s going on in Gaza?
He answered: “A lot of students are very confused. There’s too much information out there. I’m teaching them to develop a critical consciousness about what they’re consuming…to help them understand the difference between free speech and hate speech.”
Tony McAleer added: There’s confusion between identity and politics. It comes from understanding that it’s not the politics that’s wrong; it’s where I am that’s wrong.” But the identification with a certain brand of politics, he suggested, comes from “a thirst for community, a thirst for belonging.”
Peter Hutchison observed that the shift toward identifying with particular political beliefs “was never a defining characteristic when I was growing up…You end up getting ‘siloed’ in a lot of way. As Americans have become less identified with church, we’ve become much more strongly identified with ideology.”
And, as individuals become more immersed in particular ideologies, “it prevents us from seeing the humanity in one another,” he added.
The discussion turned to Holocaust denial. Peter Hutchison suggested that “if you can tear a hole in a little bit of data you can deny everything.” He went on to discuss the argument that there could never have been 6 million Jews killed in the Holocaust – that it was Allied propaganda.
“It’s happening in real time,” Hutchison observed: “As information came in about a hospital (El Shifa – which was hit by a stray missile found to have been fired by Islamic Jihad) being bombed in Gaza, ”you can discount it or you can extend it to a much larger truth.”
Kelly Hiebert added: “People will believe the first thing they see.”
Someone asked McAleer: “What can you do to bring students together?”
McAleer answered: “Curiosity, courage, and compassion…What we try to teach young people is that it’s very hard to hate someone you meet.”
He cited as an example a student-led initiative that was put forward by students in an American high school – a program called “No one eats alone.”
The idea was to make sure that no one eating lunch would be left to sit by themselves. It was important to work with “students struggling at the margins,” he said.
In another school, students were asked to whom would they like to talk (among other students in their class) if they were “struggling.”
“We went to those students (the ones who were identified as one to whom the struggling students would like to be able to speak) and asked them if they would serve in that role.”
Hutchison noted that “it’s hard to teach ‘compassion.’ We teach ‘active listening’…how to be curious, how to wait your turn to speak…We also ask kids, ‘How does it feel to be hurt?’ “
Someone in the audience suggested that underlying a large part of the alienation that many young boys feel that, in turn, leads them to be attracted to neo-Nazi type groups, is wondering “How can I get girls to like me?”
McAleer responded that “We have to have better discussions about masculinity with young men…There’s a generation of young boys who feel alienated and there are groups who know how to pull them in.’
Peter Hutchison added: “Young men have heard the expression ‘toxic masculinity’ so often they don’t know what healthy masculinity is.”
And, while Belle Jarniewski made an observation about antisemitism sometime in the middle of the discussion, I thought it was particularly relevant to end this article with what she had said.
Belle explained that when a criminal offense occurs that has an antisemitic component to it, someone in the Crown Attorney’s office will often suggest that they ought “to bring in a Holocaust survivor for that offender to meet.”
“In truth,” Belle observed, “it would be much better if they were to meet someone like Tony.”
Features
A People and a Pulse: Jewish Voices in Jazz and Modern Music
By MARTIN ZEILIG Jazz history is usually told through its most iconic names — Armstrong, Ellington, Parker, Davis — yet running alongside that familiar story is another, often under‑acknowledged one: the deep and enduring contribution of Jewish musicians, bandleaders, composers, and cultural intermediaries.
From the moment jazz emerged at the turn of the 20th century, Jews were not simply observers but active shapers of the music and the industry around it. Their influence — artistic, entrepreneurial, and cultural — has been both significant and, in many respects, disproportionately large. Jews and Jazz (171 pg. $18.75 US) a self‑published work by Laurence Seeff, brings this parallel narrative into sharp, affectionate focus.
Seeff is an ideal guide.
Born in London in 1951, he built a career that moved from statistics to energy policy in Paris, from financial markets at Bloomberg to corporate training in the City of London, all while writing poetry, songs, and humorous verse. Today he lives in Israel, where he continues to write, perform, learn Ivrit, and enjoy life with his large family. Through all these chapters runs a constant passion for jazz — a passion sparked more than fifty‑five years ago when he first heard Terry Lightfoot’s Jazzmen in a Bournemouth pub.
His writing blends clarity, humour, and genuine love for the music and the people who made it.
The musicians he profiles often came from immigrant families who brought with them the musical DNA of Eastern Europe — the cadences of synagogue chant, the urgency of klezmer, the cultural instinct for learning and artistic expression. When these sensibilities met the African American genius of early jazz, the result was a remarkable creative fusion.
Some figures, like Chico Marx, are better known for comedy than musicianship, yet Seeff reminds us that Chico was a serious pianist whose jazz‑inflected playing appeared in every Marx Brothers film and whose orchestra launched young talents like Mel Tormé. Others — Abe Lyman, Lew Stone, and Oscar Rabin — shaped the dance‑band era on both sides of the Atlantic.
Canadian readers will be pleased to find Morris “Moe” Koffman included as well: the Toronto‑born flautist and saxophonist whose “Swinging Shepherd Blues” became an international hit and whose long career at the CBC helped define Canadian jazz.
Seeff also highlights artists whose connection to jazz is more tangential but culturally revealing. Barbra Streisand, for example — a classmate and choir‑mate of Neil Diamond at Erasmus Hall High School — was never a natural jazz singer, yet her versatility allowed her to step into the idiom when she chose.
She opened for Miles Davis at the Village Vanguard in 1961 and, nearly half a century later, returned to the same club to promote Love Is the Answer, her collaboration with jazz pianist Diana Krall. Her contribution to jazz may be limited, but her stature as one of the greatest singers of all time is unquestioned.
Neil Diamond, too, appears in these pages.
Though not a jazz artist, he starred — with gusto, if not great acting finesse — in the 1980 remake of The Jazz Singer, 53 years after Al Jolson’s original. The film was not a success, nor was it truly a jazz picture, but its title and its star’s Jewish identity make it part of the cultural tapestry Seeff explores.
Diamond and Streisand recorded together only once, in 1978, on “You Don’t Bring Me Flowers,” a reminder of the long‑standing artistic ties between them.
Mel Tormé, by contrast, was deeply rooted in jazz. Nicknamed “The Velvet Fog,” he was a prodigy who sang professionally at age four, wrote his first hit at sixteen, drummed for Chico Marx, and recorded with Benny Goodman and Artie Shaw. Ethel Waters once said he was “the only white man who sings with the soul of a black man.” His story exemplifies the porous, collaborative nature of jazz.
Seeff also includes non‑Jewish figures whose lives intersected meaningfully with Jewish culture. Frank Sinatra — perhaps the greatest crooner of them all — was a steadfast supporter of Jewish causes, from protesting during the Holocaust to raising funds for Israel Bonds and the Hebrew University. His multiple visits to Israel, including a major concert in Jerusalem in 1975, underscore the depth of his connection.
Danny Kaye earns his place through his close work with Louis Armstrong, his pitch‑perfect scat singing, and his starring role in The Five Pennies, the biopic of jazz cornetist Red Nichols. Though not a jazz musician per se, his performances radiated a genuine feel for the music.
A later generation is represented by Harry Connick Jr., whose Jewish mother and New Orleans upbringing placed him at the crossroads of cultures. A prodigy who played publicly at age five, he went on to become one of the most successful jazz‑influenced vocalists of his era, with ten number‑one jazz albums.
Even Bob Dylan appears in Seeff’s mosaic — another reminder that Jewish creativity has touched every corner of modern music, sometimes directly through jazz, sometimes through the broader cultural currents that surround it.
Taken together, the concise portraits in Jews and Jazz form a lively, engaging mosaic — a celebration of creativity, resilience, and cross‑cultural exchange. They show how Jewish musicians helped carry jazz from vaudeville and dance halls into swing, bebop, cool jazz, pop, rock, and film music.
They remind us that jazz, at its heart, is a meeting place: a space where people of different backgrounds listen to one another, learn from one another, and create something larger than themselves.
For further information, contact the author at the following email address: laurenceseeff@yahoo.co.uk
Features
Jews in Strange Places
By DAVID TOPPER The Jewish contribution to 20th century popular music is well known. From Jerome Kern through to Stephen Sondheim, Jews played major roles as both composers and lyricists in the so-called Great American Songbook. (An exception is Cole Porter.) It continued in Musical Theatre throughout the rest of the century.
One very small piece of this story involves what Time magazine in the December 1999 issue called “the tune of the century.” First recorded sixty years before that, it is the powerful and haunting tune called “Strange Fruit,” which is about the lynching of black people in the southern USA. First sung by Billie Holiday in 1939, it became her signature tune.
So, why do I bring this up? Because there is a multi-layered Jewish connection to this song that is worth recalling, which may not be known to many readers.
Let’s start with the lyrics to “Strange Fruit,” which are the essence of this powerful piece:
Southern trees bear strange fruit,Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.Pastoral scene of the gallant south,The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,Here is a strange and bitter crop.
Before becoming lyrics in a song, this poem stood alone as a potent statement about the lynchings still taking place throughout the American South at the time. The strong metaphorical imagery never explicitly mentions the lynching, which adds to the poetic power of this poem. Standing alone, I believe it’s an important protest verse from the 20th century.
Searching it on the internet, you may find the author listed as Lewis Allan. But that’s not his real name. “Lewis Allen” is the often-used pen name of Abel Meeropol, a Jewish High School teacher from the Bronx in New York. He and his wife, Anne (nee Shaffer), had two stillborn children with those names – a fact that adds a poignant element to this story.
The origin of the poem for Abel was a photograph he had seen of a lynching of black men in the South. I have seen such images, possibly even the one Abel saw: for example, a sepia photograph of two black men hanging from a long tree limb, and a large crowd of white people below (men, women and even children!), most seeming dressed in their Sunday best (some men with straw hats) looking up and gawking at the sight, some with smiles on their faces – as if attending a festive spectacle. Like Abel, I felt repelled by the picture: it turned my stomach. This communal display of horrific cruelty gave me a glimpse into Abel’s mind, and I understood how it compelled him to write about it. He thus wrote the poem, and it was published in a teacher’s magazine in 1937.
Being a songwriter too, in 1938 Abel added a melody and played it in a New York club he often attended. But here’s where this story’s documentation gets contradictory, depending upon who is recalling the events. The club owner knew Billie Holiday, and he showed the song to her. What her initial response was, we cannot know for sure. But we do know that in a relatively short time, she added it to her repertoire. It eventually became her signature tune. She initially sang it in public, but because of its popularity among her fans, there was pressure to record it too.
There were initial rejections from recording companies because of the controversial content. But Commodore Records took a chance and pressed the first recording in April 1939. This was the same year the movie “Gone with the Wind” came out; it was steeped in racial stereotyping. It was also sixteen years before Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat on a bus in Montgomery, Alabama.
As a record, the song obviously reached a large audience. Since the content was about racism, the song was seen as politically radical; not surprisingly, many radio stations banned it from the airwaves.
Furthermore, it’s also not surprising that Abel, a schoolteacher, was called to appear before a committee of New York lawmakers who were looking for communists in the schools. Possibly they were surprised to find that the poem and the song were written by a white man – and a Jew to boot. In particular, they wanted to know if he was paid by the Communist Party to write this song. He was not. And, in the end, they let him go. But shortly thereafter he quit his teaching job.
This took place in 1941 and was a precursor to the continued American obsession with communism into the 1950s, under Senator Joe McCarthy.
Indeed, that episode had an impact on Abel and Anne too. In 1953 Julius and Ethel Rosenberg were convicted of giving information about nuclear science to the Soviet Union, and they were the first married couple to be executed in the electric chair. They left two sons, Michael (age 10) and Robert (age 6). Apparently, immediate family members were reticent to get involved with the boys, possibly afraid of being accused of sympathizing with communism.
Enter Abel and Anne. Without a moment’s hesitation they stepped in, taking and raising the boys. As Michael and Robert Meeropol they eventually went on to become college professors – and naturally were active in social issues. Anne died in 1973. Abel died in 1986 in a Jewish nursing home in Massachusetts, after a slow decline into dementia. Long before that, Billie Holiday died in 1959, ravaged by the drug addition that took her life at forty-four years of age.
See why I called this a multi-layered Jewish story that’s worth telling?
To hear Billie Holiday singing “Strange Fruit” click here: Strange Fruit
Features
Is This the End of Jewish Life in Western Countries?
By HENRY SREBRNIK “Globalize the Intifada” has been the chant echoing through streets since October 7th, 2023. It was never a metaphor, and we now see the gruesome results across the western world, from Australia to Canada: the rise of groups of large, active networks of Islamist and anti-Zionist organizations.
Jews in the West are discovering that the nations they defended, enriched, and profoundly shaped have become increasingly inhospitable. After the Holocaust, explicit Jew-hatred became unfashionable in polite society, but the impulse never disappeared. The workaround was simple: separate Zionism from Judaism in name, then recycle every old anti-Jewish trope and pin it on “the Zionists.”
We have seen the full legitimization of genocidal anti-Zionism and its enthusiastic adoption by large segments of the public. The protests themselves, as they began immediately on October 7th, were celebrations of the Hamas massacres. The encampments, the building occupations, the harassment campaigns against Jewish students, the open calls for intifada, the attacks on Jews and Jewish places have become our new norm. History shows us that antisemitism does not respond to reason, incentive or the honest appeals of the Jewish community.
Outside the United States, there is no Western political establishment with either the will or the capability to address this problem, let alone reverse its growth. I’m sorry to say this, but the future of Western Europe, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand is likely to be increasingly Jew-free.
Today, police stand and watch mobs chant for Israel’s destruction, call for the genocide of its people, harass visibly Jewish citizens, and drive antisemitic intimidation deep into urban life. They now believe their job is to enforce the law only if it does not risk upsetting violent constituencies. This makes Jews expendable, because defending them risks confrontation. This was very clear in the Bondi Beach massacre.
Jews are again donning caps instead of kippot, dressing generically with no cultural markers, and avoiding even a tote bag with Hebrew on it. A corrosive creep toward informal segregation in retail and service sectors is occurring, as Jewish customers report being refused service. A mezuzah hanging from a rideshare mirror leads to cancellations. When Jews express frustration, they are accused of exaggeration or attempting to suppress criticism of Israel. Jewish fear is not treated as a real problem.
“Jews Are Being Sent Back into Hiding,” the title of a Dec. 15 article in the New York Free Press by David Wolpe and Deborah Lipstadt, asserts that the attacks on Jews, including physical assaults, social media campaigns and, most tragically, the recent murders in Australia, are part of a purposive campaign designed to make Jews think twice about gathering with other Jews, entering a synagogue, going to kosher restaurants, putting a mezuzah on the doorpost of their apartments or dorm rooms, or wearing a Jewish star around their necks.
“We know of no one who would consider giving a niece, nephew, grandchild, or young friend a Jewish star without first asking permission of their parents,” they write. The unspoken, and sometimes spoken, question is: “Might wearing a star endanger your child’s well-being?”
Recently, a prominent American rabbi was entering a Target store in Chicago with her grandson, whom she had picked up from his Jewish day school. As they walked into the store the 10-year-old reached up and automatically took off his kippah and put it in his pocket. Seeing his grandmother’s quizzical look, he explained: “Mommy wants me to do that.”
Borrowing a phrase from another form of bigotry, they contend that Jews are going “back into the closet.” No public celebration of Hanukkah took place in 2025 without a significant police presence. Some people chose to stay home.
Lipstadt and Wolpe know whereof they speak. They are respectively a professor of history and Holocaust studies who served as the Biden administration’s ambassador tasked with combating antisemitism, the other a rabbi who travels to Jewish communities throughout the world, and who served on Harvard’s antisemitism task force in the aftermath of the October 7, 2023 pogrom.
What the world has seen over the past two years is a continual, often systematic attempt to terrorize Jews. When political leaders fail to condemn rather than merely “discourage” chants of “globalize the intifada,” we are seeding the ground for massacres like the Hannukah one in Sydney.
If each Jewish holiday will now be seen by antisemites as an opportunity for terror, then the prognosis for diaspora Jewry is bleak. There will be fewer public events, more alarms, more bag checks at doors; there will have to be more security and more police. Unless things change, Jewish life in the diaspora will become more sealed off from the larger society.
Why has this failure come about? Confronting antisemitism, stopping the mobs, challenging the activists, and disciplining antisemitic bureaucrats all carry electoral risk for politicians; Jews are demographically irrelevant, especially compared with Muslim voters, with the U.S. being the only partial exception.
There are those who suggest Jews stop donating funds to educational and other institutions that have turned against us. At this point, I doubt very much that withdrawing dollars will have an impact. For every dollar withdrawn, there will be 100 from Qatar and other sources in its place.
Throughout history, the way a society treats its Jews predicts its future with unerring accuracy. If Jews leave, it will be because a civilization that will not defend its Jews will also defend next to nothing and may itself not survive.
Henry Srebrnik is a professor of political science at the University of Prince Edward Island