Features
Daniel Raiskin, music director of the Winnipeg Symphony Orchestra, discusses his life – from his boyhood in Soviet Russia to his coming to Winnipeg and his admiration for the Jewish community here

By BERNIE BELLAN Daniel Raiskin has been the music director of the Winnipeg Symphony Orchestra since 2018. This paper has been remiss not to have interviewed Raiskin until now, although to be fair to ourselves, he is an extremely busy fellow,
so finding a time when he could sit down and talk about his career, what life was like growing up in a Jewish family in Soviet Russia, and how he feels about spending a good part of his time in Winnipeg, was not easily arranged.
But then Covid-19 suddenly took over everyone’s lives – no matter who they are or where they live and, without much planning required, we were able to arrange to speak with Raiskin from his Amsterdam home.
At the outset of our conversation, which was conducted via WhatsAapp on Friday, April 3, Raiskin explained he’s “lived in Amsterdam for 30 years.” While he travels the world serving as guest conductor for many different orchestras, he “shares his time between Winnipeg and Amsterdam. My home is both in Amsterdam and Winnipeg,” he said.
I asked him, since he’s lived in The Netherlands for so many years whether he holds Dutch citizenship? Raiskin answered that he’s been a Dutch citizen for 26 years, although he still “has a Russian passport, too.”
At the present time Raiskin is also resigned, like the rest of us, to remaining in his Amsterdam home with his wife and two children (a son, 21, and a daughter, 16) for the foreseeable future..
“I was actually caught here between two projects – both of which were in Winnipeg,” Raiskin explained. “I was supposed to return to Winnipeg to spend 10 days there, but then things began to get really cloudy and we decided it doesn’t make any sense for me to fly into Winnipeg and get stuck there without my family, so I decided to stay here.”
We discussed how The Netherlands had taken a relatively hands-off approach to the Coronavirus to begin with, but as the danger has become more apparent, the liberal attitudes that most Dutch have in being uncomfortable with seeing their liberties restricted have begun to dissipate.
“People here are used to going to parks and to the seaside, but I’m afraid that on Monday (April 6) the lockdown is going to be announced,” Raiskin observed (on April 3).
Before we began to talk about Raiskin’s musical career, I said to him that I wanted “to take him back to his childhood in St. Petersburg.” I remarked to him that when I was a student in Israel (a very long time ago – 1974-75 to be exact). I became friends with a girl from St. Petersburg, who bragged to me that people from St. Petersburg were so much more sophisticated than Israelis, also that St. Petersburg had “the best ice cream in the world.”
I asked Raiskin whether the part about the ice cream was true.
“Yes, that ‘s very true,” he responded – “at least judging from my kids’ reaction any time we go to St. Petersburg, they say ‘this is really the best tasting ice cream.’ “
I wondered whether Raiskin was a musical prodigy as a child.
“I was not a prodigy at all,” he said. “I took up the violin when I was six – and I didn’t ‘take it up’. I was given it. It’s an old joke that with the wave of Russian Jewish immigration to Israel every second Russian landing in Israel at Ben Gurion Airport had a violin in his or her hands. Those that did not were piano players.”
“I was born into a Jewish family where music played a very important role,” Raiskin explained.
“My father is one of the foremost Russian musicologists (who is also a now retired physicist, Raiskin noted). One of the first sounds I heard when I was born was my brother (who tragically died at a the age of 34) practising his cello. By the time I was six – I like to joke my mother was so tired of carrying my brother’s cello around, she opted for something smaller for me: a violin.”
By the way, both Rasikin’s parents are alive and still living in St. Petersburg, he told me. His father’s first love was always music, Raiskin noted, but as part of the generation that grew up in the Soviet Union following World War II, it was unrealistic for anyone to make a career of music, he explained.
“He was teaching physics at a university in St. Petersburg when he was 35, but he graduated from a music conservatory when he was 40. That goes to show how important music was to him,” Raiskin observed.
“My mother stopped working a year ago (when she was 82),” Raiskin said. “She was a mathematician and a software programmer.”
I asked Raiskin whether his “parents ever endured any discrimination because they were Jewish that you can speak of? ” I added that “I didn’t want to seem naive by asking the question (since anyone who was following the fight of “refuseniks” in Russia attempting to leave Russia at the time that Raiskin was growing up would have known that anti-Semitism was rampant in that country.
” We lived in a country with a great rate of anti-Semitism,’ Raiskin answered. “My parents and my brother and me and friends all around us were all subject to state-sponsored anti-Semitism. At some point my family had also made the decision to leave (Russia), but it was too late. The Afghanistan war had broken out and everything was hermetically sealed. We got stuck.”
At that point I said to Raiskin that I wanted to talk about what it was like growing up as a young Jewish boy in Russia at that time – and how much love of music was inculcated into his and his peers’ lives.
“It was like – any given picture of Chagall has a violin in it,” Raiskin observed. “It’s part of the Jewish heritage and DNA; this whole ‘3,000 years of endurance’. Music was one of the things that kept us from getting alienated.”
At the same time though, Raiskin said that “music was not something that I particularly wanted to do. I wanted to play football and ice hockey with my mates outside. As a kid you don’t want to spend hours practising and doing scales for hours, looking out the window of your seventh-floor apartment while other kids are playing outside. I wanted to be more like them.”
“It’s very often a mistake to think that it’s the child who makes the decision at age six or seven to become a musician. Some kids are so incredibly gifted they show a unique talent at such a young age, there’s nothing else they want to do. I definitely don’t want to give the impression that I was one of those kids. I was pretty much normal and not very well behaved; I was pretty naughty.
“It was only later that I developed a real taste for music – and worked hard to become something.”
To that point we hadn’t discussed Raiskin’s particular musical interests. I noted that I had read in various articles and interviews that his favourite composer was Gustav Mahler (who was also Jewish, by the way). I wondered when Raiskin first became interested in Mahler’s music?
“You know, in fact, Mahler was not a composer whose music was very often played in my years in the Soviet Union,” Raiskin explained. “The performances of Mahler were always a great event,” but it was only one or two of his symphonies that were ever played, he noted.
“It was only with the collapse of the Soviet Union and the first Western orchestras that started to come on European tours that we really started to hear Mahler played. I’ll never forget the first time I heard Mahler’s Seventh Symphony played by the Pittsburgh Symphony…I think this was when it really hit me hard. This is the moment that I said to myself: ‘I’m going to conduct this once’…and I did, on many occasions…I try to conduct his music as often as I can.”
We skipped ahead to Raiskin’s first time coming to Winnipeg which, he said, was in 2015, as guest conductor of the Winnipeg Symphony Orchestra. There were two more appearances as guest conductor of the WSO in 2017 before Raiskin was appointed as music director in 2018.
“It was a lengthy process,” he said, “but I am, in fact, already looking back on five years of being associated with Winnipeg. It’s not like it started in 2018.”
Raiskin also observed that “no matter how successful a relationship a music director has with an orchestra – it’s never a relationship for life. It’s just the nature of the profession. It’s a marriage for a time…It’s not the conductors who play the music; it’s the orchestras. It’s about 67 musicians who play. It’s very important – the mandate we get from the musicians …and at a certain point it’s time for the conductor to go.”
However, Raiskin wanted to make clear that this is not something he is thinking about now. With his second season cut short due to the COVID-19 pandemic, he said that, |“more than ever our relationship and interdependency is being tested and I am confident we’ll get out if the crisis, whenever this might be, stronger than ever.“
Raiskin explained that, while he is contractually obligated to conduct the WSO for 12 weeks during the year, it is hugely important for any conductor to get out on the road as much as possible. He used the following analogy to illustrate his point: “A hockey player cannot perform at the highest level of his ability if he just plays home games. It’s also important how you perform outside.”
I noted at the outset of this article that, although Daniel Raiskin has been music director of the WSO for two years now, we still hadn’t interviewed him which, given that we’re a Jewish newspaper and he’s Jewish, is something that we should have done much earlier. But, since he’s now had time to get to know Winnipeg – and its Jewish community, much better, I asked him what his impression of our community was?
“I’m sure you’ve met Gail Asper,” I said (tongue in cheek; how could the music director of the WSO not have met one of the foremost supporters of the WSO – and arts in general in this city?)
“Yes, of course,” came Raiskin’s reply, “and many other people, like Laurel Malkin, and Michel Kay and Glenna Kay. You know, Winnipeg became a place where being Jewish for me suddenly started to matter in a very personal and positive way. Growing up in the Soviet Union was definitely not. I was once expelled from a music conservatory for visiting a synagogue – for the first time, just out of curiosity.
“And when you’re in a very cosmopolitan city like Amsterdam, with a very tragic history of Dutch Jews – one needs to acknowledge that there were 150,000 Dutch Jews before the Second World War, and only 15,000 survived – so, for me, connecting to the Jewish community here…like the first Rosh Hashanah dinner I ever attended was…in Winnipeg! Because some friends just took me and my wife and said: ‘Come’. I really feel that it matters in a very positive way that I’m Jewish and I can connect to many people in Winnipeg and many in our audiences are Jewish.”
“I feel more Jewish than ever since coming to Winnipeg,” Raiskin suggested. “Jewish music is so important to me. One of the first things I recorded as a musician – as an instrumentalist, was a complete edition of music for viola and piano by Ernst Bloch, the foremost Jewish composer.”
At the end of our interview we discussed the devastating effect that the current crisis is having on people’s lives – in so many ways. Raiskin said that he was still fully involved in planning for the coming season of the WSO – and for the season after that as well.
In terms of assessing people’s hunger for music, he had this to say: “I think there will be a sense of growing hunger…our souls and our spirits are being so hollowed, there will be a growing need to fill in this gap – and this is where we can step in.”
Raiskin closed our interview with this observation: “I feel: today, more than ever, people feel how important arts and culture are to them. We suddenly realize that we use art to communicate with each other!“
Features
Jews & Jazz: Baroness Nica of New York City
By DAVID TOPPER This true story is a sequel to “Jews in Strange Places.”
In the summer of 1964, living in Pittsburgh, I attended the city’s first International Jazz Festival. I remember sitting alone, high in the Civic Arena, looking down on the concert below. I would need to go on-line to retrieve names of who the musicians were that I saw that night – save for one. Sometime in the middle of the show, the entire arena went dark, except for a single overhead beam of light shining down on a solo pianist directly below. It was Thelonious Monk.

To describe Monk’s music to a general audience, I need to speak of dissonance, angular melodic twists, hesitations, and even moments of silence. It was also fascinating to watch him play. With his hands splayed out flat (breaking all the rules of piano etiquette) he jabbed at the notes, as if he was seeing and discovering the keyboard for the first time.
One of the most interesting examples of appreciating Monk’s playing was demonstrated by the experience of a particular jazz critic (but I can’t recall who it was). Having at first only heard Monk’s music, he didn’t like it. But after he saw him playing, he began to understand and eventually to like it.
At that 1964 concert Monk played “Don’t Blame Me.” Not only is it the only thing I remember over the entire evening, but it is, I’m sure, the only piece that made me cry. Yes, I was that moved by his playing. It was a magical musical moment in my life that I’ll never forget.
I don’t know which came first: that concert or my buying the record album on which the tune appears. The record is CRISS-CROSS (Columbia, 1962), and it features Monk’s quartet at that time, with that song being the only solo track. From the liner notes we learn that when Monk left home for the studio, he was asked if he was going to play “Don’t Blame Me.” He said: “Maybe, it depends how I feel when I get there.” At the studio, he sat down at the piano, played a few dance tunes – and with the recording equipment still on – he went straight into that tune. Interestingly, in the liner notes, the writer calls Monk’s music “pure magic” – a phrase, I see, that I also used above.
The writer of these liner notes was Baroness Nica de Koenigswarter, the focus of this story. Born in the UK in 1913, Kathleen Annie Pannonica (Nica) Rothschild, the youngest of four children, grew up in a quarantined life within manor estates. From an early age she showed talent in drawing and painting, later studying art history and branching off into photography (she became obsessed with the new Polaroid camera in the 1950s). It was her brother Victor who introduced her to jazz, particularly the work of Duke Ellington. This was probably in the late 1920s – and she was hooked.
Ever searching for excitement, Nica learned to fly an airplane. It was through flying that she met Baron Jules de Koenigswarter, ten years older and a widower, whom she married in 1935. They eventually settled into a 17th century chateau in north-west France. Over their years together they had five children.
Nica’s adult life is clearly divided into two parts. The second part, her role as the Jazz Baroness Nica in New York City (NYC), is the focus of this story. Nonetheless, some of the highlights of the first part provide some insight into the complexity of this fascinating woman.
Living in France in September of 1939, she experienced the start of World War II. Jules immediately joined the Free French Army as a lieutenant. Nica opened her doors to refugees and evacuees, until the Nazi army was advancing on Paris. Jules urged her to escape, and she did: with her children (she had the first two at this time) she got on the last train of refugees heading toward the English Channel. From the UK they went to the USA, settling in New York.
Jules was now in Africa. Nica (after leaving the children safely with friends in the Guggenheim family, on Long Island) joined him in January 1941 in equatorial Africa. She first worked as a decoder of intelligence, then a radio host, and finally an ambulance driver for the French Division in the North African Campaign. Having survived a bout of malaria in Africa, she was with the troops as they advanced on Rome. At the war’s end she was in Berlin and was decorated for her work.
If Nica hadn’t crossed the Channel in 1939, she may have suffered the fate of some of her family members who stayed in France, such as an 80-year-old aunt who was beaten to death in Buchenwald. Also, Jules had pleaded with his mother to get out, as Nica did, but she dismissed him. She died in Auschwitz, along with most of the rest of Jules’ extended family.
After the war, Nica and Jules were united with their children. Jules was then posted as a diplomat in French embassies – first in Norway and then in Mexico. During this time, their three other children were born. From Mexico City, Nica made occasional trips to NYC to listen to jazz, often alone. It seems that what became Nica’s obsession with the music was, concurrently, a major source of antagonism with Jules. He didn’t like jazz and said so. When they would fight, he would break her records. Inevitably, it led to their separation.
In 1953, Nica moved to NYC (taking along her oldest child, Janka, a teenager). After settling into a suite in the Stanhope Hotel in the Upper East Side, she bought a Rolls-Royce with which to jaunt around to the jazz clubs in the city; since she liked to drag race, she later traded it in for a faster Bentley. This was the era of the famous Five Spots Café, the Village Vanguard, Birdland, and other jazz joints. In a short time, with her upper-class British accent, she became known as the Jazz Baroness, having friendships with and being the patron of many jazz musicians.
Thus begins the second part of her life – and the reason for my story.
But before we venture there, we need to deal with drug addiction. Sadly, drugs played a major role in the lives of many jazz musicians in this era, and I need to discuss it, especially to put in the context of the endemic racism of the times. There were drug laws that the mainly white cops were ever anxious to enforce; and they didn’t hesitate to use their billy clubs to strike any black man’s head, if he resisted arrest. I am not exaggerating: several jazz musicians’ lives were shortened due to a severe beating by a cop. Moreover, the drug lords (some of whom owned the jazz clubs) were mainly from the Sicilian Mafia, who had access to an endless supply of heroin from Turkey, and they specifically targeted the black community. Blacks were easy targets, with their marginal existence within white society. Cramped in ghettos (such as Harlem) they could readily escape with drugs – and, sadly, too many of them did.
It was the bane of the otherwise flourishing development of modern jazz – as it evolved out of the bebop movement into cool jazz, then hot jazz, and on through hard bop and beyond. The names constitute a canon of innovative brilliance: Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, Coleman Hawkins, Kenny Clark, Bud Powell, Charles Mingus, Teddy Wilson, Art Blakey, Bill Evans, and more. Nica was at the center of all this in NYC – living among these major players all those years.
Nica too was hooked. But not on drugs. She was addicted to alcohol, which probably shortened her life: specifically, Chivas Regal, the exclusive aged scotch whiskey – a bottle of which she inexorably carried in her purse.
Her hotel suite became a place where musicians could get a restful retreat after a gig (sometimes sleeping overnight), a meal (courtesy of Room Service), money (to buy groceries or pay outstanding bills) – and, of course, a place to have after-hours jam sessions. Black musicians (which most of them were) could only avail of these amenities by using the Service Elevator. Dealing with the endemic racism within the social fabric of NYC became part of Nica’s daily life.

The most famous (or infamous) event in her NYC life involved the death of Charlie Parker, otherwise known as Bird. (The jazz club, Birdland, was named after him.) A genius who revolutionized the alto sax with his fast tempos, virtuosic technique, and far-reaching chord structures – he was a major visitor to Nica’s suite. Sadly he was heavily addicted to heroin and on March 15, 1955, he died at the early age of 34. It happened in Nica’s suite, and she had to call a doctor. Upon writing up his report, he estimated Parker’s age as 50 to 60 – that’s what the drugs did to his body. The headline announcing the death in the next day’s newspaper was: “Bird in the Baroness’s Boudoir.” Being a single woman with lots of money that she freely spent, Nica was a lighting-rod for salacious gossip such as this.
It also was the catalyst for Jules to file for divorce. Thus ended their marriage. Not surprisingly, she also was kicked out of her suite.

I recently did an inventory of my record collection and found that among all the jazz albums I have, the one musician for whom I have the most records is the pianist Hampton Hawes. I have 12 records, plus a cassette and a CD. I mention this because he is also one of the few musicians in this significant era of jazz who knew Nica and who wrote an autobiography: Raise Up Off Me (1974). I love this book. Written in Hawes’ black lingo, his account throws light upon Nica’s critical role in the jazz community, especially her friendship with Monk.
But first, a bit about Hawes’ own life. Born in 1928, growing up in Los Angeles (LA), Hawes was the son of a Presbyterian preacher. Self-taught at the piano, he had no familial encouragement to play jazz music. But listening to Bird, Monk, Bud, and others, he became good enough by the age of 18 to jam with some top musicians in LA. By around 1950 Hawes’ career took off with record contracts and (except for a two-year stint in the US Army, stationed in Japan) he continued to play and record – being voted “New Star of the Year” in Downbeat magazine in 1956.
It was around this time that he met Nica in NYC, during a gig at The Embers, a fancy nightclub, where he was well-paid. He also met Monk for the first time. Let me quote widely from his book.
Upon looking out across the tables in the nightclub, Hawes immediately recognised Monk. “Bamboo-rimmed shade, carrying a bamboo cane – he looked like … one of those African kings, strong but beautiful. … He was with a middle-aged woman who gave off a waft of perfume that smelled like it costs $600 an ounce, and when he introduced me – to Baroness Nica – I knew I’d guessed right about the price.” She left before he finished his set. But Monk stayed. “Monk drove me in his blue Buick to Nica’s hotel penthouse on Fifth Avenue. When she opened the door I could hear my album playing – the track, ’Round Midnight that Monk had written. He said to me, ‘I didn’t tell her to put that on.’ I walked into the room where Bird had died a little over a year ago. [That dates this as sometime in 1956.] A lot of paintings and funny drapes, a chandelier like in an old movie palace. Steinway concert grand in the corner. I thought: this is where you live if you own the Chase Manhattan Bank. … Her pad was a place to drop in and hang out, any time, for any reason. … She’d give money to anyone who was broke, bring bags of groceries to their families, help them get their cabaret cards, which you need to work in New York. … I suppose you would call Nica a patron of the arts, but she was more like a brother to the musicians who lived in New York or came through. There was no jive about her, and if you were for real you were accepted and were her friend.” … She gave Hawes a telephone number for a private cab. “If I was sick or fuc-ed up, I’d call the number and the cab would come and carry me directly to her pad.” According to Hawes, Nica picked up the colourful black lingo too.
As noted, many musicians’ lives were cut short due to drug addiction (and sometimes beatings by cops). Again, Nica came through – often paying for their funeral and even the plot, if the family could not afford to. She was there for them, literally, to the end.
Of all the jazz musicians who passed though Nica’s life, the one who had the most significant impact on her was Monk. Even among the wide range of idiosyncratic jazz musicians, Monk still stands out for his uniqueness. He was quirky in his talk, his behaviour, and his music as well. It’s clear that there was some mental illness involved, but it was never fully diagnosed. One doctor insisted that Monk was not manic-depressive nor had schizophrenia. Nonetheless, he had episodes where he was not living in this world. Nica’s gentle demeanour was perfect for Monk. She nurtured and fed him, especially when he became too much for his family.
Let’s bring Hawes’ autobiography back into this story. Once when Hawes was wasted on drugs and stretched out on a bench in Central Park: “a familiar Bentley rolls up to the curb. Nica behind the wheel and Monk saying, ‘Man, get in this car, a good musician ain’t supposed to be sittin’ on no bench lookin’ like you look’.”
Another time he’s in Nica’s penthouse looking for Monk. Hawes “peeks through a doorway at a body laid out on a gold bedspread, mudstained boots sticking out from under a ten-thousand-dollar mink coat and the body’s mouth wide open, sound pouring out of it, and Nica tiptoeing over, finger to her lips as if I’m about to wake a three-week-old baby from its afternoon nap. ‘Shhh. Thelonious is asleep’.”
One notable incident among many: in Delaware in 1958, she and Monk were caught by the police with a small quantity of his marijuana. She took the rap and spent a night or two in jail. She saved Monk’s head, possibly literally. It’s not surprising that the saxophonist Sonny Rollins called her “a heroic woman.”
The year 1958 was also significant in Hawes’ life, for he became the target of a federal undercover operation in LA. Caught with drugs, he was offered this: if he squealed on his drug supplier, he would go free. Hawes refused. Hence, on his 30th birthday, he was sentenced to ten years in prison. An emerging career was cut short; and it was the start of a decade to be wasted. Then in early 1961, watching the prison TV, Hawes heard John F. Kennedy deliver his inaugural speech. Hawes was impressed by the new president’s words. He writes: “I thought. That’s the right cat; looks like he got some soul and might listen.” And so Hawes spent the next few years putting together the documentation requesting a presidential pardon. It was not an easy task. The prison staff were not accommodating. But he persisted, and so, the document was sent off to the White House. I like Hawes’ comment about the very end of his appeal: “To round it off I added some heavy legal sh-t in Latin I’d dug up in the library.”
In August 1963, Hawes was informed that the appeal was granted. (In fact, it was the next-to-last clemency granted by Kennedy; in November he was assassinated.) It cut Hawes’ prison term almost in half. Thus after 4½ years wasted, he was able to re-launch his musical career. He continued to record and travel, but never kicked the heroin habit. In 1977 he died of a brain haemorrhage. At age 48, he left a legacy of so many wonderful jazz albums, including the 14 that I own.
For Nica, her problem was finding a place to live. As noted, she was kicked out of her suite when Bird died. So, she moved to Hotel Bolivar, across Central Park – only to be eventually let go too, due to drugs and noise. Next was the Algonquin in midtown. Shortly thereafter, she was asked to leave that too. In the end, she purchased a house on a cliff over the Hudson River in New Jersey, from which she had a spectacular view of the NYC skyline, and an easy drive to the city through the Lincoln Tunnel. Jazz musicians called it her Mad Pad.
By the 1970s, when Monk dropped out of the jazz scene, he moved in with her. Eventually, he also stopped talking; remaining sequestered in his room, where he died in 1982.
Eventually the heavy dosage of Chivas Regal caught up with Nica. She died of heart failure in 1988 at age 74.
There are numerous songs by jazz musicians in tribute to her; the two most famous are: “Pannonica” by Monk and “Nica’s Dream” by Horace Silver. As well, several nightclubs around the world are named: Pannonica.
Features
Why casinos reject card payments: common reasons
Online casino withdrawals seem simple, yet many players experience unanticipated decreases. Canada has more credit and debit card payout refusals than expected. Delays or rejections are rarely random. Casino rules and technical processes are rigorous. Identity verification, banking regulations, bonus terms, and technological issues might cause issues.
Card payment difficulties can result from insufficient identification verification. Canadian casinos must verify players’ identities before accepting card withdrawals. If documentation are missing, obsolete, or confusing, the request may be stopped or denied until verified.
Banks and card issuers’ gaming policies are another aspect. Some Canadian banks limit or treat online casino payments differently from card refunds. In such circumstances, the casino may recommend a more reliable withdrawal method.
For Canadian players looking to compare bonus terms and payout conditions, check https://casinosanalyzer.ca/free-spins-no-deposit/free-chips. This article explores the main reasons Canadian casinos reject card payouts, from KYC hurdles to bank-specific restrictions, so you know exactly what to watch for.
Verification Issues: Why Identity Checks Matter
KYC rules must be activated by licensed casinos. Players need to submit proof of their identity, address and age. If any documentation is missing, expired or unclear, the withdrawal will be denied. In Canada, for instance, authorities like the AGCO or iGaming Ontario have been cracking down on KYCs by demanding that submitted documents – whether photo ID, utility bills or bank statements – be consistent with all account details.
Common errors are submitting screenshots, cropped photos or documents with names, dates or addresses that aren’t entirely visible. Just the slightest differences in spelling or abbreviations or formatting can get these blocks triggered.
Another possibility is that the account was red flagged if previous withdrawals were already made without partial verification. Keeping precise, readable documents helps facilitate approvals and cuts through delays and frustrating red tape, as Canadian gamblers access their winnings both safely and quickly.
Timing Matters
Verification isn’t always instant. Documents being submitted during the busiest times, or on weekends or holidays can only prolong that approval process, and the withdrawal sitting pre-approved – or refused for that matter – until the casino reviews the paperwork. A lot of players feel disappointment not due to mistakes, but only for that a verification team still hasn’t checked their documents! This can be especially frustrating when winnings come from free chips or bonus play and players are eager to cash out.
Keep personal information current and only submit clear legible files to reduce the processing time. Ensure that any scans or photos are sharp, fully visible and there is no detail missing. Preventing Gaffes With submission guidelines to read over ahead of time and directions for following them exactly, verification issues can often be significantly minimized, avoiding delay in accessing winnings and making the lie down withdrawal process that much smoother at Canadian online casinos.
Banking Restrictions and Card Policies
Not all credit or debit cards are eligible for casino withdrawals. Many Canadian banks restrict transactions related to gambling. For example, prepaid cards, virtual cards, or certain credit cards may allow deposits but block withdrawals. Even if deposits work, a payout can fail if the bank refuses incoming gambling credits.
Cards issued outside Canada can also be declined due to international processing rules. Currency conversion restrictions may prevent a CAD payout to a USD card, depending on the bank’s policies.
Banks keep an eye on abnormal or frequent transactions. Online casinos can flag large or multiple withdrawals as suspicious and in such cases may impose temporary blocks on withdrawals or outright decline the withdrawal until the issuing bank confirms them with its account holder. Contacting your bank in advance will avoid any surprises and make withdrawals go more smoothly. What to consider when using your card in Canada:
- Check if your card type supports gambling withdrawals (prepaid, virtual, and some credit cards may not).
- Confirm whether your bank allows international online casino payouts.
- Be aware of currency conversion restrictions.
- Monitor withdrawal frequency to avoid triggering fraud alerts.
- Contact your bank ahead of time to authorize or clarify online gambling transactions.
- Keep alternative withdrawal methods ready, such as e-wallets or bank transfers.
Being aware of these constraints prevents Canadian players from having declined payouts, delays and waste of time when it comes to handling the casino money properly.
Wagering Requirements and Bonus Conditions
Many Canadians chase casino bonuses, including deals built around free chips, but these offers always come with conditions, Wagering requirements usually require players to bet a multiple of the bonus before withdrawing. Attempting a payout before meeting these conditions will be automatically declined. Not all games contribute equally: slots often count 100%, table games 10–20%, and certain features nothing at all.
Misinterpretation of this, can make it appear as though a withdraw should be valid, while the casino believes there are unmet bonus requirements. Some casinos also impose a minimum withdrawal amount and will cap card payouts. And if you have more than the minimum in your account, a limit set off by your bonus could limit withdrawal. By testing these issues early on, you can save yourself a lot of aggravation. How to manage bonus conditions effectively:
- Have a close look at the terms of the bonus – check out wagering requirements, game contribution and time limits.
- Track your progress – note how much of the bonus has been wagered and which games contribute most.
- Plan your gameplay – prioritize slots or eligible games to efficiently meet wagering.
- Check withdrawal limits – ensure your balance meets minimums and bonus-specific caps.
- Avoid early withdrawals – never attempt a cash-out before meeting all conditions.
- Use trusted sources – platforms like CA CasinosAnalyzer can clarify real requirements and prevent surprises.
Following these steps helps players meet bonus conditions without stress and makes bankroll management smoother.
Features
What is the return on investment of US military spending on Israel?
By GREGORY MASON A recurring theme of Israel’s critics is that were it not for US spending on its war machine, it would be unable to wage genocide. I will leave the genocide issue (sic, I mean non-issue) aside as it has been well covered here and here.
Of course, right now (March 11), the war is going well for Israel and the US. In fact, the Israeli and American air forces are showing a level of coordination enabled by decades of close cooperation between the two militaries. I recall a conversation with an IDF colonel, the commander of a base near Eilat, in 2010, during a mission that gave participants access to high-level military briefings. Tensions between Israel and the US had soured, as they periodically do, and I asked whether this ebb and flow in political posturing affected military operations. The colonel said political leaders come and go, but the cooperation between the Israeli and American militaries is very tight. To quote him, “they need us as much as we need them. We are their eyes and ears in this part of the world.”
Many on both the right and left call for the US to disengage from Israel, especially with respect to defence spending. First, let us look at facts.

Table 1 readily shows the impact of the war in Ukraine, with Russia’s spending also reflecting wartime demands. Israel’s total commitment of 5-6% of GDP amounts to $45 billion in defence spending, reflecting its perpetual need to defend itself and maintain a permanent reserve force. Table 2 elaborates on defence spending as a share of public spending. Unlike other countries that have been free riding under the US military umbrella (and Canada is the most egregious of the lot), Israel has made very substantial commitments to its own defence. The $3.8 billion spent on hardware for US equipment is a fraction of Israel’s total defence budget of about $43 Billion. All U.S. financial aid to any country for military hardware must be spent on U.S.-manufactured equipment by law.

Critics of US defence funding for Israel miss two key points. First, as Table 3 shows, financing sent to Israel does not involve troop deployment. Israel does not want the US to station troops within its borders. The costs of maintaining troop deployments and all the associated support costs for NATO, Japan, and South Korea are orders of magnitude higher than the financing for the hardware it provides to Israel.

Second, and the current joint US/Israeli operations in Iran bear this out, Israel has dramatically improved the equipment platforms it purchased. Examples include:
- The F-15 has benefited from Israeli wartime use, resulting in major improvements, including a redesigned cockpit layout, increased range through fuel redesign, improved avionics, new weaponry, helmet-mounted targeting, and structural strengthening.
- Because Israel was an early partner in the fighter’s development and had access to its top-secret software suite, the Israeli version of the F-35 is a radically different plane than the model delivered. Improvements include increasing operational range, embedding advanced air defence detection, and integrating the fighter with Israel’s defence network, creating extensive system integration. This proved instrumental in the rapid establishment of air superiority in the 12-day war in 2025.
- The THAAD (Terminal High Altitude Area Defence) program has benefited from a joint research and development relationship between Israel and the U.S.
- Finally, Iron Dome has contributed to U.S. air defence development, particularly the Tamir interceptor technology, battle management, target discrimination, and the development of a layered air defence system.
No senior military or political official questions the return on investment American gains by funding Israel’s acquisition of U.S. military hardware.
