Features
Both sides
Introduction: We were sent this short story by John Ginsburg, who is a Winnipeg writer. Given the constant stream of stories about students and professors being intimidated by forces championing political correctness, especially when it comes to anything having to do with Israel, we thought it timely to publish the story here.
June 2021 Mackenzie King College Walking east, past the Theatre building, the view was genuinely inspiring, especially in the bright morning sunshine.
To the right, the contemplative, Ivy-covered Arts Building and the century-old chapel. Straight ahead, the gleaming river and the lush green landscape beyond. To the south, the arching Unity Bridge. But the route to the classroom for Media Studies 32.455, Professor Latchman’s course, was somewhat less scenic. One had to walk around to the opposite side of the Theatre building, in through the small service entrance, and then down concrete stairs to the basement, arriving at a low-ceilinged, damp and windowless room. Such were the current circumstances of the Department of Media Studies, pursuing the noble heights of academic inquiry from the gloomy depths of a former workshop. Its old haunts, on the opposite side of the university, were being renovated from top to bottom.
The condensed, two-and-a-half-month course was entering its final few weeks. With the resumption of in-person lectures, the bright, doubly-vaccinated students had initially been swept in by a wave of camaraderie and intellectual enthusiasm. Reality, however, had soon intervened, an unrelenting schedule of jam-packed three-hour lectures, demanding term papers and nerve-wracking oral presentations. The dim subterranean venue only added to the hard-pressed feeling among the students.
Latchman’s course was entitled Political Correctness and Cancel Culture in the Media and the Arts. It was a senior-level honours course, requiring three term papers and two in-class presentations of each of its twenty-five earnest young scholars. They were a diverse lot, of all kinds of ethnicities and backgrounds. There they sat, in their sculpted, multi-coloured hair, with their necks, arms and legs artistically muralled with tattoos; their noses, lips, eyebrows, ears and navels sporting gaudy piercings; their epigrammed apparel and trendy jewellery on full display. At the front of the class, standing at the lectern, their middle-aged, conservatively-dressed professor was unfazed. The individual expressions of diversity and identity neither made him feel old nor out of place. It was simply the times. One moment might call for ethnic, racial and sexual identities to be completely ignored, while the next moment called for them to be pushed loudly to the front, singled out and magnified. However, for Professor Howard Latchman, it wasn’t a particularly difficult academic world to navigate.
Latchman was a full professor at Mackenzie King College, accomplished in his field, enjoying his twenty-sixth year as a faculty member. He was of medium height and build, with thin, greying hair. He had a warm and friendly manner and had always been well-regarded by his students. His annual student evaluations highlighted his high academic standards, as well as his accessibility and fairness. On the negative side, students found him rather boring at times, and his methods somewhat plodding. His non-academic interests were completely unknown to his students and would have come as an amusing surprise. From his teenage years right up to the present, Latchman had been a drummer in a number of rock and roll bands, most recently with The Heads, playing sixties and seventies songs in nearby towns and bars. Not to mention his tennis playing; he was good enough to compete in senior-level tournaments, once reaching the provincial quarter-finals.
Latchman was Jewish, but entirely secular. This was a constant sore point with his two older siblings, alienating him from them more and more over the years. Brought up in the same conventional Jewish home, he’d been expected to tow the line. Fortunately they lived halfway across the country, so their meetings were infrequent.
He was divorced, with two children in their late twenties. His area of specialty was Journalism. From a doctoral thesis on corporate bias in the western news media, his work had naturally evolved. With social media now dominating the flow of information, his methods of study had radically changed. But the same issues remained at the core: misinformation and the control of information; by large corporations and by special interest groups.
For the June 14 class, student presentations were scheduled for the entire lecture time. Each student had twenty minutes to speak, on a recent case of cancel culture, followed by ten to fifteen minutes of questions and comments from the rest of the class.
With only a few weeks remaining in the spring-session course, Latchman knew most of the twenty-five students by name and by appearance. The first speaker of the day was a Black woman named Letanya Wynn. She was a prominent figure in the class, very bright and always highly engaged, taking every opportunity to aggressively speak out, offering her own point of view on whatever was being discussed. She was very slight in stature, with closely-cropped orange and yellow hair, wearing massive hoop earrings and bright red lipstick. Latchman took a quick glance at the text message she had sent him, containing the title and summary of her talk. ‘Good morning everyone’ he said. ‘Our first speaker is Letanya Wynn. She is going to be telling us about a cartoon that was recently published, in a Seattle online magazine. A textbook case of cancel culture. We will follow the same format as previous presentations. At the conclusion of the presentation, we will entertain comments and questions. Ms. Wynn!’
Letanya Wynn made her way, a little awkwardly, from the back of the class up to the sixty-inch monitor at the front, where she inserted the small USB drive she’d been carrying. She selected the only file on the drive, a jpg file. It was a copy of a cartoon, recently published in The North West Record, a Seattle-based publication. The cartoon shows two men having sex, one Black and the other white, with their naughty parts concealed behind a chair in the centre foreground. The Black man is positioned behind the white man, who is bent over. A shirt is draped over the chair, displaying a large BLM logo. In the background, a grim-faced, white uniformed cop has entered the room, standing in a doorway. He is pointing a gun at the two men, with a talking bubble that says ”You’re supposed to be two metres apart, not two feet.” The caption underneath the cartoon says ”Basic Length Measurements”. This satirical take on the coronavirus pandemic and the BlackLivesMatter movement had been greeted with an immediate social outcry online. Its creator, a Black male cartoonist, was fired as a result, by his publisher, who was also a Black male.
Letanya Wynn’s presentation was focused and articulate, extremely well done. Latchman wasn’t surprised that she strongly supported the cartoonist’s firing, arguing that the themes represented in the cartoon were demeaning to Black people and personally offensive to her. But he was surprised by the subdued class response. Maybe it was because it was so early in the morning, he thought. Maybe non-Black students felt they didn’t belong in the conversation. Whatever the reason, only two students commented on the presentation, both Black men. They both disagreed with Letanya Wynn, instead finding the cartoon to be a clever work of satire, and seeing the cartoonist’s firing as an extreme overreaction.
Thinking further about the minimal class reaction, Latchman wondered if, compared to other recent topics, the class didn’t find the cartoon to be especially shocking or controversial. In any case, he was very impressed by the presentation. Twenty out of twenty, he thought. A great presentation.
Latchman glanced at his phone and quickly re-read the details for the second talk of the morning. It would probably be less engaging than the first talk, he thought. Less contentious.
‘Class, I would next like to introduce Mark Mazur. He is going to talk about the recent Facebook controversy. I’m sure we’ve all heard about it. Certain posts were not published at first, but then appeared later, after a reaction against the company. Mr. Mazur!’
The second speaker was evidently Jewish, and religious, wearing a kipa. He was tall and very thin, with a neatly trimmed beard and a friendly face. After being introduced, he stood up from his chair near the front of the room and walked over to the lectern, where he placed his notes. He was soft-spoken, with an easy and confident manner. ‘Good morning’ he said to the class, with a smile. ‘When I read about this recent Facebook controversy, I naturally read some of the posts that had not appeared for so-called ”technical reasons”. They were published a few days later, after people had complained that Facebook had shown an anti-Palestinian bias, by deliberately blocking the posts. Of course, this is not the first time that Facebook has faced these kinds of accusations, sometimes because they do allow certain posts. For example, when they published all the lies and distortions from Trump’s supporters, during the election campaign and after.’
‘There are three main questions here. First of all, is it just a coincidence that many of those posts – I didn’t try to read more than ten or so – promoted a completely one-sided picture of the recent war between Israel and Hamas? Secondly, does Facebook have the legal right, and perhaps the moral responsibility, to not publish whatever it deems to be inappropriate? Are Palestinian-run websites held to the same moral standards? Do we insist they publish pro-Israeli posts, balancing these with opposite points of view? Or do we think they should be free to decide which posts to publish and in what numbers? Thirdly, and what is most relevant to this course, is why did Facebook backtrack? Why did the policy change, with the posts being published after all? Was it political correctness, catering to an offended group, rather than just sticking to an otherwise reasonable and clearly defensible editorial stance?’
‘I’m Jewish, so some people might try to diminish what I have to say because of a perceived bias. Of course, such an ad hominem assumption of bias could be made against detractors as well. In any event, let me first summarize what I consider to be a truthful, balanced view of the war. To begin, the loss of life and the destruction of property, the traumatization of people, especially children, on both sides, is absolutely horrible. These are the terrible costs and results of war. However we measure the consequences, it is obvious there cannot only be a picture from one side. Hamas sent literally thousands of missiles into Israel, killing people and destroying property. The effects were greatly reduced because the Israelis were able to shoot down most of those bombs before they landed. Hamas fired those missiles with the intention of killing whomever they happened to kill, destroying whatever property they happened to strike. They were aimed more or less randomly. Consequences in return, to the population of Gaza, were horrendous. There were – ‘
At that moment, one of the other students interrupted, a woman wearing a hijab, sitting near the front of the class. She stood up, looking directly at the speaker. Speaking with an Arabic accent, her tone was fierce and accusatory. She was essentially shouting. ‘You are killing children’ she said to the speaker. ‘You are destroying hospitals. You are killing innocent people.’
Professor Latchman was somewhat caught off guard, but he quickly moved to stop the woman’s outburst. Having spoken to the woman on a few previous occasions, he knew her name was Jamila Fayad, and that she was an immigrant from Syria, having settled in the area a few years before, with her parents and siblings. She was one of four religious Muslims in the class, three female and one male. The others were seated side-by-side in the row behind her. In a class that consisted mostly of people of color, they hadn’t particularly stood out during the previous weeks of the course. As occurred to Latchman in this moment, this was likely because the course topics had centred almost completely around anti-Black racism and issues involving sexual identity.
Latchman, seated at the front of the room right beside the speaker, stood up and made a restraining gesture to the woman with his right hand. It was abundantly clear to him that the situation could easily escalate if he didn’t quickly take control. ‘Please. I must ask you to stop, Ms. Fayad. Please sit down’ he said, in a firm, resolute tone, addressing the woman as he did all of his students, using her last name. ‘You will have an opportunity to comment once the speaker has finished. Please allow the speaker to make his presentation. We have all agreed that there will be no comments until these presentations have been completed. And please, remember not to attack people personally. We can strongly disagree with what someone says, but let us challenge what has been said. No personal attacks or insinuations. That is very important. Okay. Mr. Mazur, please continue.’
‘Thank you, Professor Latchman’ said the young speaker, apparently unrattled by the outburst. ‘Justifying war and conflict and killing might be called a fool’s job’ he continued. ‘Yet, if people are not provided with an accurate historical picture of conflict, it can make the situation worse and lead to further violence and injustice. Hamas is a terrorist organization. Our country and other western countries have declared this to be the case. Their only goal in relation to Israel is quote, to drive the Jews into the sea. The idea of a peace treaty or peaceful co-existence is not even a possibility. The claims made about land can – ‘
Again Jamila Fayad stood up, confronting the speaker in the same defiant, angry way. ‘You must end the occupation’ she said. ‘You must give back our land. You are killing our people. We have the right to fight for the liberation.
Anticipating this second outburst, Latchman had already decided on his response, and he acted swiftly. He stood up and again addressed the woman. ‘That is enough’ he said, speaking somewhat forcefully while trying to retain his composure. ‘This presentation is over for now. Thank you, Mr. Mazur. I am sorry for the interruption. Class, we are going to take a fifteen minute break now, before the next talk. Would everyone please leave the room, except for Ms. Fayad. If you wouldn’t mind, Ms. Fayad, I would like to have a word with you before we continue.’
In his head, Latchman was rapidly composing a short speech he would deliver to Jamila Fayad, some careful form of admonishment. How she had attacked the speaker personally. How she hadn’t let him speak. How she had been rude and disrespectful. How she had denied him the same basic freedom of speech she would want for herself. But he never had the opportunity, as Jamila Fayad filed out of the room along with everyone else. For fifteen minutes, Latchman stood waiting for her to return, but she never did. When the students returned fifteen minutes later, she was not among them.
This was certainly not the first time a student had filed a formal complaint about some aspect of Media Studies 32.455. One of Latchman’s colleagues had faced a similar situation a few years before, when a Black student had objected to a class discussion on rap music. The professor had played a selection of songs in class, all laced with profanity and the N-word, which the student had found humiliating and demeaning. The professor had to appear before the Academic Standards Committee to answer for the material. He volunteered to meet with the student-complainant, and successfully diffused the matter. Most student-complaints never reached that stage. Though they were always taken seriously, such complaints were usually answered by no more than a polite note from the Dean’s office, thanking the student for the submission and emphasizing that it had been taken very seriously. The university was always striving to improve in its awareness of and sensitivity to student concerns, et cetera. It was virtually unheard of for any remedial or punitive action to result from such a complaint. So, when Howard Latchman was asked to meet with the Dean of Arts the following week, after a formal complaint had been filed by Jamila Fayad, he wasn’t particularly troubled by the matter.
On the day of his meeting with the Dean of Arts, Latchman came prepared, bearing a printed copy of the course outline for 32.455, as well as a detailed summary of the incident surrounding Mark Mazur’s presentation the previous week.
Like many faculty members at Mackenzie King College, Howard Latchman was mostly oblivious to administrative matters. He tried to have as little to do with meetings and committees and procedures as he could possibly get away with. For most of his years on the faculty, he would not even have been able to name the President of the university, or any of its senior administration. His focus was his teaching and his other academic work. As a full professor in his late fifties, he’d paid his dues, and he now purposefully managed his time with a minimum of aggravation and a minimum of futility. When he was escorted into his meeting with the Dean of Arts, by the administrative assistant, he was meeting the Dean for the first time.
Walking into the Dean’s inner office, carrying his documents, he was greeted by an exuberant, friendly-looking woman. ‘Hello, Professor Latchman’ she said. ‘I’m Amira Zuhar.’
Latchman only vaguely remembered the Dean’s recent hiring. People who had paid more attention would have remembered that she’d been highly touted at the time. She was a devout Muslim and well-known social activist. She’d been hired directly from the faculty ranks at the University of Toronto, with an impressive publication record in Political Studies, and with absolutely no prior administrative experience. Forty years of age, she was a shining example of Mackenzie King College’s commitment to diversity and inclusiveness at every level.
Dean Zuhar was wearing a beige hijab. She had a dazzling smile, immediately disarming Latchman. She motioned for him to sit down on one of the black leather chairs beside her oak desk, offering him water or coffee or tea, all of which he politely refused.
All of a sudden, Latchman’s situation seemed much more perilous. A hijab-wearing Dean was to pronounce on the complaint; on the confrontation between a hijab-wearing student and a male, Jewish student; a confrontation in which he, Latchman, himself Jewish, was deemed by the female student to be at fault. This might not go so well, Latchman thought to himself, nervously glancing around the spacious, well-appointed office. He decided he would wait for a moment before offering his documents to the Dean.
‘Professor Latchman’ the Dean began, flashing a quick smile, a smile Latchman was suddenly rather wary of. ‘Thank you for dropping by today. Jamila Fayad’s complaint… I’ve sent you a copy of what she’s written. I have spoken at some length with her.’ The Dean spoke evenly and quietly, maintaining direct eye-contact with Latchman. ‘Jamila says you silenced her. You stopped her from talking, from countering the pro-Israeli statements. She says you took the side of the Jewish student. Because you are Jewish. She says she can’t return to your class anymore, because you don’t give the same freedoms to all of your students.’
Latchman shuffled in his seat uneasily before offering a response. ‘Ms. Fayad stood up and interrupted the class presentation’ he said to the Dean. ‘She accused the speaker of killing children, of destroying homes. Accused him. He was not involved in the war. He’s not an Israeli; he’s a Canadian. She kept accusing him. It was horrible. She said things like ”You are killing children”; targeting her accusations directly at him. I politely asked her to stop, but she wouldn’t. She continued her personal attack. I had to stop the presentation entirely. It was embarrassing to expose my entire class to that kind of thing. I’ve prepared a detailed summary of the – ‘
The Dean cut Latchman off in mid-sentence. ‘As to the interruption and as to her point of view, she is obviously a passionate defender of the Palestinian cause. And she felt it was necessary to counter a one-sided justification of the actions of the Israelis. Her use of the personal pronoun ”you” probably has as much to do with second-language issues as anything else.’
Latchman was incensed at the Dean’s complete misreading of the incident. He struggled to remain composed. ‘No’ he said, his voice rising. ‘Her usage of ”you” cannot in any way be attributed to second-language issues. She very deliberately pointed to him, and targeted the accusations at him. There was no doubt about it at all. She is a bright student. She obviously knows the difference between ”you” and ”the Israeli army”. There were twenty-four witnesses to the incident, other than me. How many of them have you bothered to interview?’ His tone had quickly progressed to one of anger and impatience. ‘I’m guessing very few, if any. I guess I should have expected you to take her side, but what you are saying is patently ridiculous and simply wrong. All of those statements about the way things proceeded, and the accusations made about my reaction, they are all false. In fact, they’re libelous. She should examine her own behaviour. The ”Jewish student”, as she calls him, did everything he could to be even-handed, respectful and non-accusatory. The whole point was to address the political correctness involved in the matter. In Facebook’s reversing its decision to not allow certain posts that were clearly pro-Palestinian. Was it political correctness that pressured the company to reverse its position? The presenting student was admirably respectful and sensitive to the Gaza side of the conflict. He didn’t even get to fully express his thoughts on the matter. She jumped on him and fired off some very hostile, personal accusations at him.’
Dean Zuhar responded in a much sterner tone than before. ‘Professor Latchman’ she said, ‘I am very much disturbed by your implying my taking sides here. That is certainly not the case. I understand and I very much appreciate the sensitive nature of this classroom topic. Especially for both Jewish and Muslim students. But Professor Latchman, we can’t have students accusing our faculty of silencing their views. We can’t have our students saying it is impossible for them to continue their attendance in class; impossible because of their humiliation and their perceived mistreatment at the hands of their professors. This goes well beyond reasonable classroom behaviour and course management. I’m afraid I’m going to have to suspend you from any further involvement in this course. Your department chair, Professor Guilfoyle, will appoint a replacement to finish the remaining few weeks of lectures. I have spoken to him this morning. For the present, there are no further consequences to you with respect to this incident. However, there will be a full internal inquiry into the matter. I have asked Professor Nkosa, the chair of the Academic Standards Committee, to conduct a thorough review of the matter, including your role. Thank you for coming in this morning.’ Saying this, Dean Zuhar stood up to see Latchman out.
Latchman was stunned. It took him a moment to begin breathing evenly again. Getting to his feet, he was fuming mad. ‘Are you serious?’ he said to the Dean. ‘This is a travesty. There were twenty-four witnesses to the event. Did you talk to them? Does the truth matter? Do you -‘
Dean Zuhar cut him short. ‘Professor Latchman’ she said, firmly. ‘I’m very sorry. I have to interrupt you. I know you must find this very upsetting. I’m going to wish you a good day. This is a most unfortunate incident. Again, thanks for coming in.’
It was all Latchman could do, to simply walk out of the room, without lashing out at the Dean of Arts. He stormed out of the office, out of the building and onto the nearly empty quad outside, shaking his head in disbelief.
THE END
Features
Winnipeg’s Jewish Community and the Question of Online Casino Bonuses: What Manitoba Players Should Know
A reader wrote in last month asking a simple question: is it legal to play online casino games in Manitoba, and if so, what’s actually a fair deal? It’s the kind of practical, money-conscious question this paper’s readers tend to ask before spending anything, the same instinct that shapes how the community shops, budgets for the High Holidays, or decides which shul renovation appeal to support. Manitoba’s online gambling landscape has changed enough in the last few years that the old assumptions no longer hold, and it’s worth walking through what’s actually there now.
Manitoba’s Online Casino Landscape in 2026
Manitoba doesn’t have an open, competitive online casino market the way Ontario does. Since April 2022, Ontario has allowed private operators to apply for licences and compete for players directly. Manitoba still runs a single-operator model: Manitoba Liquor & Lotteries (MLL), the Crown corporation that also runs the province’s Liquor Marts and lottery products, operates the one legal online casino for Manitoba residents, PlayNow.com. That’s the whole regulated market in this province. Outside that single option, Manitobans who search for online casinos will find dozens of sites willing to take their money and their information, a pattern this paper’s own Local/Canadian News coverage has tracked as provinces across the country adjust their approach to regulated gambling. Some are licensed elsewhere, Malta, Curaçao, the UK, and operate in a legal grey zone for Canadian players; enforcement against them has been inconsistent for years. None of them answers to Manitoba’s regulator, and none of them contributes a dollar back to this province.
How Casino Welcome Bonuses Are Structured and Regulated
A welcome bonus is usually presented as free money: deposit $50, get $50 in bonus funds, sometimes with free spins attached. What matters is the fine print attached to it. Wagering requirements determine how many times you must play through the bonus amount before you can withdraw any winnings; a 30x requirement on a $50 bonus means $1,500 in total wagering before that money is really yours. Game weighting matters too: slots typically count 100% toward that requirement, table games often count 10% or less, which punishes anyone who prefers blackjack over slot spins. Time limits, usually 7 to 30 days, and maximum bet sizes while a bonus is active, round out the list of terms most players skip past. On PlayNow.com, these terms are published in plain language and reviewed by a provincial Crown corporation with community accountability baked into its mandate, the same mandate that funds Manitoba’s healthcare and education budgets. That’s a meaningfully different relationship than the one an offshore site has with a Manitoba customer.
The Difference Between Licensed Canadian Operators and Offshore Alternatives
This is where the practical stakes are highest. A licensed Canadian platform is subject to specific consumer protections: verified game fairness, dispute resolution through a regulator you can actually reach, and deposit-limit tools that work. An offshore operator answers to a foreign licensing body, if it answers to anyone at all. Winnipeggers who’ve had a withdrawal disputed by an offshore casino know how limited the recourse actually is; there’s no Manitoba office to call and no local regulator with jurisdiction. Across the country, players comparing regulated options increasingly start by checking a best casino bonus Canada comparison rather than relying on whichever ad appears first. It’s a reasonable way to sort a legitimate Canadian-licensed platform from an offshore look-alike before depositing anything.
Responsible Gambling Resources Available in Manitoba
This part matters more than the bonus terms. MLL runs Informed Gambling, its dedicated responsible-gambling program, which includes deposit and time-limit tools, self-exclusion options, and educational material aimed at helping players recognize when a habit has become a problem before it becomes a crisis. Manitobans concerned about their own gambling, or a family member’s, can call the Manitoba Addictions Helpline, toll-free at 1-855-662-6605, for confidential support. Shared Health, formerly the Addictions Foundation of Manitoba, also provides professional counselling free of charge to anyone who needs it, regardless of ability to pay. For a community that has always taken care of its own, through the Chesed Shel Emes, through synagogue-run support networks, through the kind of quiet checking-in that happens after a funeral or a hard year, these resources are worth knowing before they’re needed, not after. Chasing a Canadian online casino bonus isn’t worth it if the wagering requirements are already causing strain. That’s a conversation worth having, honestly, inside families and inside the community, before it becomes a private one.
Where to Compare Current Casino Bonus Offers Across Licensed Platforms
None of this is an argument against playing. It’s an argument for playing somewhere accountable, with terms you understand, and for a modest amount you’ve already decided you can afford to lose. Manitoba’s single-operator model makes that comparison simpler than Ontario’s crowded market, but it also means doing the homework on wagering requirements and licensing status matters just as much, if not more, when there’s only one legal option and a long list of unregulated ones competing for the same click. Ask the question before depositing, not after; that’s the same advice this community gives about most things worth being careful with.
Features
Embracing your femininity in Tishrei
By ELENA KNIGHT Rosh Chodesh Sameach! This month, Tishrei, is a time of beginnings; we observe Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkot, Shemini Atzeret, and Simchat Torah, we celebrate humanity’s creation, and we celebrate the seventh month since the Exodus from Egypt with shofar and festivities.
Though all Jewish people celebrate the head of the month, traditionally, women are rewarded for not participating in the sin of the Golden Calf, and many women take the day to honour the Shechinah, the feminine mystical aspect of the divine. Literally meaning “dwelling,” the Shechinah relates to G-d’s close and relational presence amongst people, such as in the Temple. In Kabbalah, since the word is grammatically feminine, the Shechinah is seen as the feminine aspect of G-d, representing a nurturing, compassionate presence, an almost motherly form of the divine. But how can we honour the Shechinah specific to Tishrei?
Rosh Hashanah provides a straightforward answer: New Year’s resolutions. A tradition observed across the globe, by people of all traditions and faiths, we can apply the idea to our New Year, and think of ways to improve in the year 5787. Make a resolution to join a women’s group at your synagogue or JCC, support woman-owned businesses (the SHE-Canada directory can help you find them!), read up on feminist theory or history, or mentor a young girl in your community. And, like traditional resolutions, don’t kick yourself if you slip up!
While we listen to the shofar, recall that its sound awakens the soul, mystically preparing us all for the Shechinah’s manifest presence on Yom Kippur, when it comes to earth to bring realignment and forgiveness.
Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, also offers a way to embrace your feminine side. On this day, we are prohibited from all work, and physical pleasures; though it may sound counter-intuitive, this is the perfect day to be aware of your womanhood in its most natural state. No adornments, no makeup, no perfume, no fancy shoes, no gold jewelry. This is a day when we can see who we are without the extras, as G-d made us, and be aware of the beauty in our creation as is. Also, for any women who are pregnant, nursing, or otherwise exempt from the holiday restrictions, isn’t it amazing to know that our Creator values our health over all?
Sukkot offers a time to appreciate the bounty that G-d has provided over the past year, but what I want to call attention to is the Four Kinds. The etrog has both taste and aroma, the lulav’s fruit, the date, has taste but no aroma, the hadas has aroma but no taste, and the aravah has no taste nor aroma; at some point in our life, and likely at some point in the month, we are all like one of the Four Kinds. The Midrash drew a comparison between taste and Torah learning and between aroma and good deeds. Sometimes, we have etrog moments, when we have a perfect balance between learning and doing, we are in harmony. Sometimes, we have lulav moments, when we prioritize learning over worldly involvement. Sometimes, we have hadas moments, when we prioritize action over enlightenment. And sometimes, we have aravah moments, when we have no energy for learning nor doing. All of these are necessary for living, and during the month of Tishrei, we can appreciate each of these moments. As we sit in our Sukkah, we are wrapped in the wings of the Shechinah, and experiencing its divine protection as we celebrate the Festival of Ingathering.
Shemini Atzeret begins our prayers for rain, and here’s where I get a little extra mystical. Rain is connected to femininity through its association with the womb of creation, fertility, and gentle power which renews life. In Genesis, G-d creates the world from a formless void, using language which conveys ideas of a cosmic womb, a life-generating space which G-d filled with his purpose to design our world. As humanity was created in G-d’s image, the womb metaphor is solidified. As rain comes, it revives the earth, making it fertile, restoring the feminine principles of creativity, emotional depth, and spiritual renewal in the very land we walk on. Rain comes most often as a gentle power, one which arrives calmly, sustaining all life.
Simchat Torah is the time when we celebrate finishing the annual cycle of reading the entire Torah and beginning again. Here, we are brought back to Rosh Hashanah and its new beginnings, with an added layer of holiness and celebration. On this day, it is tradition to dance and revel in the joy of our peoplehood, our identity, our Jewishness, and, let’s add, our femininity. G-d has given us a remarkable gift by making us women. While we revel in the holiness of Torah, let us also revel in the holiness of womanhood.
Features
The tragedy of Clara Haber
By DAVID TOPPER This story of the sad and short life of a remarkable woman, Clara Haber, should be better known. I hope this essay is a step in that direction. Her legacy deserves it.
She was born Clara Helene Immerwahr on June 21, 1870 to two Jewish parents. Interestingly, the German surname breaks down into: immer (always, forever, still) and wahr (true, real, right). Take your pick. I like: Still real.
Being smart and hardworking, she was the first woman to obtain a doctorate in Chemistry from the University of Breslau, part of Germany at the time (today it’s in Poland). This was in 1900. Several years before that, she had converted to Christianity. A year later, 1901, she married Fritz Haber, who also had a doctorate in Chemistry. (He was from Breslau too; they met at a dance.) He was two years older than her, and he also had converted to Christianity, in the early 1890s.
This act of conversion – starting in the early 19th century, when, on the heels of the French Revolution, Jews came out of their ghettos – was more common among European Jews than you might think. There were about 2000 conversions per year throughout the century. Some famous ones are: the poet Heine, the mathematician Kronecker, and the composers Mendelssohn and Mahler. In most cases it was the only road to prestigious appointments, otherwise restricted to Christians.
On June 1, 1902 Clara gave birth to what would be their only child, Hermann. The job of raising Hermann was given to her, Fritz being too busy with his important work in his Chemistry Lab – thus ignoring her work in Chemistry. He put in 18-hour workdays, barely leaving time for dinner (if he ate at home) and some sleep. Plus, Hermann was a sickly child, and hence Clara spent all her time raising him – without Fritz. In letters she spoke of her unhappiness in the marriage: especially “Fritz’s oppressive way of putting himself first in our home and marriage, so that a less ruthlessly self-assertive personality was simply destroyed.” These are harsh and powerful words, expressing her extreme disillusionment and frustration with her married life. Yet it was true; her potentially successful career in Chemistry was dead. She never accomplished anything after her degree. The family and household took all her time and energy.
What, therefore, was this important work that kept Fritz busy and out of the home? He was the Director of the Institute for Chemistry in Berlin. His first major discovery was synthesizing ammonia from nitrogen gas and hydrogen gas, which revolutionized the production of fertilizer. The result was higher yields in agriculture throughout Europe and eventually the world. (Even today, it’s been estimated that food produced from this process supports almost half of the world’s population.) For this Haber was seen as a hero, alleviating otherwise mass starvation. In 1918 he got the Nobel Prize in Chemistry for this work.
But there was a flipside to all this: the fertilizer could also be used to make explosives. This too Fritz explored, especially with the start of the First World War in August 1914. Out of this work came poison gases, and thus the creation of chemical warfare.
Fritz was a staunch German patriot and nationalist, supporting the War from the beginning. For example, he signed the “Manifesto of the Ninety-Three,” with other German intellectuals in support of the War. (Incidentally, Albert Einstein, who was living in Berlin at this time – they were good friends – refused to sign the document.)
Fritz not only worked in the lab producing the chemical, he was also involved in supervising their deployment on the war front. Thus, he was in Ypres (near Flanders), Belgium on April 22, 1915. As one historian has drolly put it: “The small Belgium city of Ypres is to chemistry what Hiroshima is to physics.” Indeed, this was the first use of chemical weapons in military history. They released around 170 tons of poison gas across a 4-mile front. There were an estimated 800- 1400 immediate deaths among the French and Algerian troops. Fritz left before the battle was over. During the entire so-called Second Battle of Ypres, from April 22 to May 25 – there were over 67,000 casualties among the French, Canadian, and British troops.
(As an aside: this battle was commemorated by John McCrae, who wrote “In Flanders Fields,” a poem recited every Remembrance Day here in Canada.)
Leaving Belgium, and after a brief stay at home, Haber immediately went to the Eastern Front to oversee gas released against the Russian Army. For all this work, he was given the rank of Captain by the Kaiser.
Meanwhile, Clara, usually alone, was raising Hermann, and taking care of the household, not having time to explore all the chemistry she would like to do. In letters she says that her husband’s work with poison gases is a “perversion of the ideals of science” and “a sign of barbarity, corrupting the very discipline which ought to bring new insights into life.” She also witnessed the accidental death of a former classmate, who was in Fritz’s lab working with these chemicals. To make matters worse, she was hearing rumours of Fritz’s involvement with other women. (Humm, it seems he found time for that!)
When Fritz returned home from Belgium (I don’t know the exact date), and before he left for Russia on May 3rd, there was a celebration at their home on the success of the gas attack. There are reports of arguments between Fritz and Clara, but we don’t know the details. What we do know, as a fact, is this. On the following morning, May 2, 1915, Clara took Fritz’s military pistol and walked into their garden. She shot into the air (presumably to test the gun) and then, pointing it into her chest – she pulled the trigger. Hermann heard the shots, ran into the garden – and his mother died in his arms. The following morning, Fritz left for Russia, to supervise the gas attack on the Eastern Front.
At this point in my story, Clara is gone. But there’s more to tell, and – if she knew the rest – I’m sure she would want the reader to know it too. Especially this.
During the final weeks of the First World War, on the Western Front, the Allies now launched a series of gas attacks in the district of Ypres on the Germans. On the night of October 13-14, 1918, just south of Ypres, in the town of Wervik (or Werwick), the British forces used mustard gas on the 16th Bavarian Reserve Infantry Regiment. One German corporal serving as a messenger in the army was caught in the attack, and was partially blinded. He was able to stagger to safety and eventually was taken to a military hospital in Germany to recover. We know about this because he wrote about it in his 1925 book, Mein Kampf. Adolph Hitler recalled: “I stumbled and tottered back with burning eyes…. [M]y eyes were turned into glowing coals; it had grown dark around me.” He was still in hospital at the end of the War on November 11, 1918, at the signing of the Armistice with Germany’s surrender. While lying blinded, he says he had a vision to enter politics to “save” Germany. How much this is true and how much perhaps psychosomatic, due to the shock of the mustard gas – or just plain hyperbole – we will never know. But it led to his myth of Germany’s “stab in the back” – and all that followed with the rise of the Nazi Party.
In 1933, when the Party took over the country, Fritz was still alive. During the 1920s he had a staff at the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute developing more gases, such as the cyanide gas formulation, Zyklon A, which was used as an insecticide to spray on plants. In the spring of 1933, with the passing of Hitler’s law of removing all Jews in professional jobs throughout the country, Fritz was stunned. But it was worse. Fritz not only lost his job: but all his awarded metals, his many accolades, the staunch patriotism and nationalism, his service to the country, even the conversion to Christianity – it all came to naught, since he was a Jew by birth. Thus: his legacy was completely erased from all records, in all German history – as if he never had even existed.
And so, in August, he left the country. He first went to Paris, then to Spain, England, and finally Switzerland. He even took a brief trip to Palestine, where he bequeathed his private Library to the nascent Weizmann Institute, and was offered a position there. He accepted it, but never fulfilled it. He died of severe coronary sclerosis in Basel, on January 29, 1934 at the age of 65.
A major outcome of the Nazification of Germany, as we know, was World War Two. And with that – the Holocaust. Both Clara and Fritz died before all that; but not members of their families.
Most of Clara’s families were assimilated Jewish professionals and intellectuals, which was no buffer to the Nazi plague. Most of the Immerwahrs died in Auschwitz or Theresienstadt. Only a few had fled to France and then the USA. None was in Germany in post-1945.
As for Fritz’s family, he had a younger half-sister, Frieda. She fled to Jerusalem and survived the war. But her children and grandchildren all died in Auschwitz.
Also, after Clara died, Fritz later married Charlotte Nathan. They had two children: Eva and Ludwig. Just before he died, Fritz sent them to Switzerland; from there all three went to England, surviving the Holocaust.
Then there is Hermann, the only child of Clara and Fritz. After the Nazi party took over Germany, Hermann immigrated to the USA. There he married and had a child, Claire, who became a chemist. Not surprisingly, he had episodes of depression over his adult life, eventually committing suicide in 1946. Sometime later, Claire did the same.
As a final point in this part of my story, I note the following fact. The pesticide gas, Zyklon A from Faber’s lab contained an odorant – to warn users. When the Nazis took over Faber’s lab in the Institute, they removed the odorant, producing Zyklon B, the gas used in the mass murders in the gas chambers during the Holocaust.
As a coda to this story, I wish to compare Clara’s story with Mileva Marić, Einstein’s first wife. The reason for this will be seen below.
In brief, here’s Mileva’s story. Born in 1875 to a Christian Orthodox Serbian family, she had a dislocated hip that resulted in her walking with a limp all her life. Although this isolated her as a child growing up, she had a very loving and doting father who encouraged his very bright daughter in her school work (she was especially good at math) and was proficient at the piano. Moreover, she was the first girl to attend high school physics courses in the entire Austro-Hungarian Empire.
After graduation, she applied to the prestigious Zurich Polytechnic, since (as we saw) Switzerland admitted women to all classes. She passed the entrance exam and majored in Mathematics. With all this potential, it seemed that the future was hers to make, even as a woman. Then, in a small Physics course, she met Einstein. They quickly became a couple. Except for the time they spent together, Mileva still did her school work and passed all her courses over the first three years.
In her fourth year she started on a thesis, hoping to get a PhD. But she failed her final exams. She repeated them, but still didn’t pass. What happened? I find it hard to believe that this sudden change in her performance was due to the tests being too tough for her – after all that she achieved up to this time. The thing that was different – and which I believe was the source of her predicament – is this: she was pregnant with a child fathered by Albert. With the baby in her belly, she just couldn’t concentrate on the tests.
She went home to her parents and the child was born (a girl, they named Lieserl). Being illegitimate, Lieserl was left with her parents (who were very supportive) and Mileva went back to live with Albert. They married in January 1903, in a small civil ceremony. Neither set of parents was there. And so, Mileva became a housewife – and eventually the mother of two boys. Like Clara, all the earlier promises came to naught. Mileva didn’t even get a university degree – let alone her aspiration of a PhD.
By around 1909 Albert was being noticed by the physics community for his publications on relativity (a subject he essentially created) and quantum physics. Mileva wrote to her closest friend that Albert “lives only for his work” and that the family “is unimportant to him.” This strain on the marriage came to a peak in the spring of 1914 when they moved to Berlin, where he had accepted a prestigious position in the Physics section of Kaiser Wilhelm Institute.
For this we need to come back to Fritz and his friendship with Einstein. In many ways their friendship was unexpected, since (except for being born Jewish) they had little in common – opposite on the topics of nationalism, patriotism, war (Albert was a pacifist). Even in dress: Fritz was meticulous in his three-piece suits, and Albert sloppy in dress with his hair all over the place. Yet, when they first met in September 1911 at a scientific society meeting in Karlsruhe, they quickly became close friends. In particular, Fritz was so impressed that he became the chief orchestrator to draw Einstein to the position in physics at the Berlin Institute.
Thus, late in 1913, Einstein was offered a position, and he accepted it. But Mileva was reluctant to leave Switzerland. One main reason: Albert had a divorced cousin in Berlin, Elsa, who Mileva knew Albert was visiting when attending meetings in the city. She even suspected (correctly) that it was an intimate relationship.
Nonetheless, around Christmas 1913, Mileva traveled to Berlin to look for a place to live. She stayed with Fritz and Clara, and – not surprisingly, from all we know about them – the two women quickly and deeply bonded. They certainly had lots to talk about: given their similar situations regarding their stifled careers and abusive husbands. Mileva found an apartment, and in April 1914 she, Albert, and their two boys moved to Berlin.
They were not there for even a month, and the marriage entered a new phase. Albert demanded a series of rules for their relationship. Mileva was to do the laundry, prepare him three meals a day, and keep his office clean – all without any personal relations, no intimacy, and never being seen in public together. It was degrading and cruel; she was reduced to being a maid and a cook.
Mileva tried to accept all this, but quickly found that she couldn’t endure the humiliation. Fritz and Clara knew about all this. Clara consoled Mileva. Fritz acted as a mediator, as the marriage completely broke down. Fritz was a witness, signing the separation agreement. In July 1914 Mileva packed up her things, and she and the two boys went back to Switzerland, where she lived for the rest of her life. The following month was the start of the War – and, ultimately, in May 1915, Clara’s suicide.
There it is: Clara’s sad story, and how it overlapped with Mileva Einstein’s story – with ultimately their short, but profound, friendship.
I hope all this helps bring to light the legacy of this potentially brilliant, surely fascinating, and ultimately tragic woman.
Clara Helene Immerwahr Haber is long gone. Yet, for me, she is: Still real.
- *
Readings:
For Albert’s abusive treatment of Mileva, see: David Topper, “The Dark Side of Albert: Einstein and Mileva Marić, his First Wife,” published in The Academy of the Heart and Mind, February 7, 2025.
For the quotation comparing Ypres and Hiroshima, see: Jörgen Neffe, Einstein: A Biography (2005), p. 252.
