Features
Arthur Ripstein: Following the Ripstein trail first laid in Manitoba 140 years ago
By GERRY POSNER Let me be clear. The Ripstein family has been a force in many ways in Winnipeg, in Manitoba and indeed in the entire country of Canada now for almost140 years.
In fact, in 1873, Jacob Ripstein began a series of many firsts in the family.
He was one of the very first Jewish settlers in Manitoba and one of his sons, Simon – a brother to Arthur Ripstein’s great-grandfather, Isaac, was among the very first Jewish children born in Winnipeg.
Isaac’s son, Reg Ripstein was, in his own way, the leader in another way. He made the first ever trade in canola in 1963 as a futures broker in a career that lasted 72 years. His wife, Ellen Ripstein later became the first ever female stockbroker in Canada, also the oldest stockbroker in Canada – working until she was 90, seven weeks before she died. Even a Ripstein cousin, Ellen became the world crossword puzzle champion. Thus, the foundations were laid for Reg and Ellen’s two sons, Ira and Arthur.
Readers in Winnipeg will likely be familiar with the name Ira Ripstein. Ira is a well known doctor in Winnipeg, also an Associate Dean at the Faculty of Medicine at the University of Manitoba. Brother Arthur Ripstein has also ascended to some very lofty heights in his career as a philosopher and educator. You would need a book to recite the starred story of Arthur Ripstein, but here is the Reader’s Digest version:
Just recently, Arthur Ripstein was awarded the 2021 Killam Prize in humanities, awarded by the Canada Council for the Arts. Aside from the significant distinction that goes with receiving this prestigious honour, there is a little stipend that goes along with it, as in $100,000.00. So for all you parents worried about your kid’s desire to go into the Faculty of Arts – there is hope.
Consider this: Ripstein is a leading scholar of the legal and political works of the 18th Century philosopher, Immanuel Kant. Succinctly put, “about Kant, with Ripstein you can”.
Ripstein’s scholarship covers many areas, including justice, tort law and even the law of war. To have achieved this lofty status Ripstein points to his early years spent at the University of Manitoba, specifically his time in the Department of Philosophy. There he was introduced to and, as Ripstein acknowledges, was significantly influenced by Professor Arthur Schafer, the then head of the department.
Moreover, Ripstein benefited from being a member of a small department, where he received attention and encouragement. After Ripstein obtained his BA from the University of Manitoba, he was off to the University of Pittsburgh, which had a strong graduate school philosophy department.
His dissertation there landed him a teaching job at a small college, Franklin and Marshal. That stint enabled him to get connected to the University of Toronto, where he came under the tutelage of a law professor by the name of Ernest Weinrib. That relationship helped propel Ripstein to Yale Law School for a special PhD program, in which he took a year of law.
Next up for Ripstein was a period spent at Princeton as a Rockefeller Fellow at the Centre for Human Values. His last stop (so far) was – and has so far been at the University of Toronto law school, where now Dr. Ripstein started teaching torts to first year law students.
As Ripstein states, “it is the most fun course to teach because it is about such fundamental questions – how people are allowed to treat each other, whose problem is it when something goes wrong.”
It’s been a challenging and satisfying path that’s led to his present position, but Arthur Ripstein’s career has, I suggest, really taken off since he joined the University of Toronto. He is both a professor of law and of philosophy there. By now, he is the author of four monographs, over 75 essays in academic journals and has edited, either alone or with a partner, four books.
Twice he has been awarded the Canadian Philosophical Association (did you know there was such an animal?) Book Prize. He was also the recipient of a Killam Research Fellowship between 2018-18. And. by the way, if you’ve ever listened to the CBC radio show “Ideas”, guess who’s been a very frequent contributor: Arthur Ripstein.
In addition, Ripstein delivered the keynote lecture at the World Kant Congress and the 2019 Tanner Lectures on Human Values at the University of California, Berkeley.
Ripstein has reflected on topics that affect all of us at some point, relating to matters of authority, rules of war, the legitimacy of coercion and the complexity of obligation. I particularly liked his response to the question which children often ask their parents, as in “Why do you get to make the rules?”
Ripstein suggests “Because I said so” is not the appropriate answer. When you address the possible answers, you embark on a philosophical journey.
Even more pertinent these days is his response to the question “What is the place of authority during the present pandemic?”
Ripstein looks at it this way: “The hard question is figuring out why authority is legitimate. Some critics of public health measures seem to think that they must be illegitimate because they stop people from doing things that they want to do. That cannot be the right way to think about it; human beings can only live together if they are subject to common rules and those rules sometimes require depending on experts. The philosophical challenge is to articulate its proper limits. This is one example of how philosophy can take on such vital relevance to contemporary questions.”
Who could have predicted the career of Arthur Ripstein? Maybe it can be traced back to the original Ripstein settler in Winnipeg. Surely Jacob Ripstein in 1873 could never have envisioned his great-grandson, Arthur reaching such a high level in Canada and indeed around the world. In his own way, winning the Killam Prize and being recognized for an academic career in two disciplines, Ripstein has followed his Ripstein predecessors with a first, as in the first Jewish Manitoban to receive the Killam Prize. However you slice it, Arthur Ripstein has already made Jacob Ripstein’s decision to come to Canada a very wise one. Why do I say that?
Someone who knows far better than I – as in The Chair of the Department of Philosophy in the Faculty of Arts and Science, at the University of Toronto, Martin Pickavé, has said of Arthur Ripstein: “Arthur Ripstein is one of the most important legal and political philosophers in the world. The Killam Prize could not have gone to someone more deserving….He is an inspiration not only to his students, but also to his colleagues.”
Features
I Speak “Jew”
By MARK E. PAULL I grew up in Montreal. Born in 1956. Anglo by birth, sure. But that never quite fit. I don’t speak “Anglo” the way they mean it. My real language is Jew.
And I don’t mean Hebrew or Yiddish. I mean the language of reading the room before you enter it. The code-switching, shame-dodging, laugh-first-so-they-don’t-pounce dialect we pick up early. It’s a language built on side-eyes and timing and ten generations of tension.
I speak French—enough to make myself understood. Enough to charm a dinner table, crack a joke, get someone’s uncle to nod. I’m not fluent, but I’m fast. Doesn’t matter. In Quebec, language isn’t grammar—it’s inheritance. It’s who your grandfather cursed out in a hardware store.
To the Francophones, I’ll never be one of them. My accent betrays me before I say a word. I’m just an Anglo. And not even that, really. Because when the lens tightens, when they look closely, I’m just un Juif. Just a Jew.
And to the Anglos? Same thing. I can wear the suit, speak the Queen’s English, order the wine properly—still a Jew. Even in rooms where I “pass,” I don’t belong. I’m not invited in to be myself. I’m invited in to behave. To be safe. To not say the thing that makes the air stiff.
We’re the only people still called by our religion. No one says “Orthodox” for a Greek. No one says “Vatican” for an Italian. No one calls a Black man “Baptist” before they see his face. But “Jew”? That sticks. That’s the label. Before passport. Before language. Before hello.
I’ve mostly made peace with that. But there’s still this ache—knowing you can live your whole life in a place and never really be from there.
Let me tell you a story.
We had this block party once—the folding-table, paper-plate kind. Kids zipping by on scooters. Music low. Everyone asked to bring something from “your culture.”
The Greek guy brought lemon potatoes and lamb—felt like it came with a side of Byzantine history. The Italians brought two lasagnas—meat and veggie—with basil placed like confetti. The Vietnamese couple brought shrimp rolls that vanished before they hit the table. Even the German guy—built like a fridge—brought bratwurst and a six-pack with gothic lettering.
And then us.
My partner made Moroccan fish. Her grandmother’s recipe. Red with tomatoes, garlic, cumin. Studded with olives and preserved lemon. I brought a bottle of white wine. Dry. Crisp. From the Golan Heights. Not Manischewitz. Not even close.
We laid it out. Someone leaned over: “Moroccan? But I thought you were Jewish.”
We smiled. “We are.”
Then: “So… where’s the brisket? Isn’t Jewish wine supposed to be sweet?”
That’s when it hits you. No matter how long you’ve lived here, how many snowstorms you’ve shoveled through, you’re still explaining yourself. Still translating your presence.
Because they don’t know. They don’t know Jews came from everywhere. That “Jewish” isn’t one dish—it’s a whole map. That we had Jews in Morocco before there was even a France. That some of us grew up on kreplach, some on kefta. That some of our mothers sang in Yiddish, others in Arabic, and some in both—depending on who was knocking.
They don’t know. And worse—they don’t ask.
And that’s the part that gets you. Not the slurs. Not the graffiti. Not even the occasional muttered cliché. It’s the blankness. The shrug. The image they already have of you that’s built out of dreidels and sitcoms.
“Jewish” as nostalgic. As novelty. Something they saw once on a bagel.
Sometimes, when those questions come, I float. One version of me walks out. Another turns into a mouse. One turns into a Frisbee. Just gone. Not mad. Just tired.
Because being a Jew isn’t cute. It’s not nostalgic.
It’s ancient.
Before Montreal.
Before France.
Before Poland. Before Spain.
Before pogroms.
Before ghettos.
Before Hitler.
Before even the word Europe.
We were there.
Go back to the 5th century. 2nd century.
Go back to Jesus—our kid, by the way.
Go further—Babylon. Persia.
Keep going—Temple. Exile. Wandering.
And still, after all that, I’m at a table in Quebec explaining why our fish has cumin in it.
It’s almost funny. If it didn’t wear you down a little.
I’m not looking for pity. This isn’t a complaint.
I’m proud. I know what I carry. I walk into any room with five thousand years behind me. I come from people who kept the lights on through every kind of darkness—and laughed through it, too.
But sometimes, I just wish I didn’t have to explain so much.
All I want is to put down my dish…
…and hear someone say:
“That smells amazing. Tell me the story.”
That’s all.
Mark E. Paull, C.A.C. is a Certified ADHD Coach – IPHM, CMA, IIC&M, CPD Certified
Writer | Lived-Experience Advocate | Type 1 Diabetic since 1967
He has been published in:
The New York Times, The Globe and Mail, Folklife Magazine, Times of Israel, CHADD’s Attention Magazine, The Good Men Project
Features
At 104, Besse Gurevich last original resident of Shaftesbury Park Retirement Residence
By MYRON LOVE At 104, Besse Gurevich is the last of the original residents of Shaftesbury Park Retirement Residence. She may also be the oldest member of our Jewish community.
Although her vision and her hearing have diminished considerably, her mind and memory are still intact. A few weeks back, this writer sat down with her in her suite as she recalled a life filled with highs and lows and her many contributions to her community, both in Winnipeg and Fort William before that.
The daughter of Jack and Rebecca Avit, her life’s journey began in 1921 in a home on Carlton Street near Ellice Avenue, near her father’s furniture store. He later operated a cap factory.
When she was ten, the family – she had two brothers and a sister – moved to Manitoba Avenue in the old North End. “My father had put a deposit down on a house on Scotia,” she recalls. “But my parents didn’t feel that the neighbourhood was Jewish enough.”
Her schooling included Peretz School and, like so many of her generation, St. John’s Tech (as it was known back then.) “I was actually supposed to be going to Isaac Newton for high school,” she says. We were living on the wrong side of the tracks for St. John’s. After one day at Isaac Newton, I found a way to transfer to St. John’s.”
In 1940, 19-year-old Bessie Avit married Jack Gurevich, a young man from Fort William. The wedding was marred though, by the sudden, untimely passing of her father.
Following the wedding, Besse moved with her new husband to Fort William where Jack Gurevich worked in retail clothing sales. “We lived in Fort William for 20 years,” she says. “Our three children (Judy, Richard and Howard) were born there.”
She recalls that there were about 200 Jewish families – including her sister and one of her brothers for some years – in town, during the time she lived there. “We were very well known in the community,” she recalls. “I was involved in everything.”
Her community activism continued after the family’s return to her home town. While Jack went to work as a salesman for Western Glove Works, Besse became an indefatigable community volunteer. At one time or another, she served as vice-president of ORT, Hadassah and National Council of Jewish Women in Winnipeg. She was also a long time B’nai Brith member.
In the business world, the highlight of her career was the building of Linden Woods. “I became involved in real estate development for a time,” she recalls. “I was hired by Genstar to develop Linden Woods. The company estimated that it would take about 20 years to complete. I got it done in two.”
She also taught hair dressing for a while. “I worked with many young Jewish brides,” she says.
Recent years have not been kind to Besse Gurevich. Her beloved husband, Jack, died in 2016 – after almost 65 years of marriage. Older son, Richard, passed away in Vancouver in 2018 and, most recently –six months ago – younger son, Howard, followed. She notes that there were 200 mourners at Howard’s funeral.
(Howard Gurevich was in marketing for many years before turning his talents to the art world. In recent years, he was best known for Gurevich Fine Art in the Exchange District and his support of local artists.)
Besse Gurevich celebrated her 100th birthday – which took place at the height of the Covid shutdown – quietly.
While she used to enjoy reading. she is unable to do so any more. She can still listen to television.
And while she has few family members to visit her any more, she does have a group of friends interesting enough from the local theatre scene. For many years, she was a close friend of the late Doreen Brownstone, one of the leading figures in theatre in Winnipeg for more than half a century. Besse became part of the group that would visit Doreen every week and, since Doreen passed on three years ago, the members of the group have continued to visit Besse on a weekly basis.
Features
Winnipeg author’s first novel gripping tale of romance, action and intrigue, set in 15th century Spain and Morocco
By MYRON LOVE “The Chronos of Andalucia”, a novel just released by first-time author Merom Toledano, is a historical romance set in late 15th century Spain and Morocco, filled with passion, action, intrigue, unexpected twists and turns – and, of course, with the requirement of any medieval story – a quest.
The easy-to-read, 190 page book follows the adventures of Catalina, a young woman living by her wits on the streets of Granada in the year 1487, (just after the Christian armies of Ferdinand and Isabella had recaptured all of Spain from the Moors) – while trying to evade the agents of the Inquisition, who had murdered her Jewish mother and Christian father 10 years earlier. She was left with an insatiable desire to learn about astronomy, along with a mysterious map and an astrolabe (an instrument formerly used to make astronomical measurements) – the importance of which will only be unveiled if she can get to the city of Tangier in Morocco.
Early on, there is a reference to Abraham Zacuto, a prominent Spanish rabbi famed for his knowledge of astronomy and astrology.
The action begins when she has a casual interaction with a former Spanish soldier, Diego. When the forces of the Inquisition approach, she flees with the soldier – who is also her love interest – and who helps her to escape. They turn for help to a childhood friend of Catalina’s – Roberta, a nun, who helps them on their perilous journey to Tangier – a journey that includes being captured by pirates, surviving a shipwreck, being separated for a long period of time and, of course, finding each other again and realizing the success of their joint quest.
In his writing, the author paints vivid word pictures of the different characters and beautifully invokes the colour, sights, sounds and scents of the time and the places.
What I found truly remarkable about the writing of “The Chronos of Andalucia” is that English is not Merom Toledano’s first language. The Israeli-born author – he grew up near Haifa – came to Winnipeg with his young family just eight years ago.
“I have had this book in mind for several years now,” says the satellite engineer whose working career takes him to many different parts of the world.
He notes that he has always felt a connection to Spain, Spanish music and literature – a reflection of his family’s modern origins in that country. His great-grandparents, he relates, lived in Toledo – hence the family name, Toledano. His parents lived in Meknes in Morocco while his father attended university in Tangier before making aliyah.
Toledano just published “The Chronos of Andalucia” in April on Amazon. He reports that the book – which is available here at McNally Robinson – has been selling well –close to 100 copies – with orders coming from a bookstore chain in England, a bookstore in Denmark, and one in Italy.
“I have had between 30 and 40 positive reviews so far,” he reports.
Toledano adds that he envisages “The Chronos of Andalucia” to be the first in a series – a la the writer Danielle Steele. He is already working on a sequel – which is hinted at the end of “The Chronos” and, he reports, he is establishing his own independent publishing operation.