Features
Defining antisemitism – a history of the “IHRA” definition
By SIMONE COHEN SCOTT Late last year I was asked by The Jerusalem Report to interview the Hon. Irwin Cotler, upon his appointment by Prime Minister Trudeau as Special Envoy for Preserving Holocaust Remembrance and Combating Antisemitism. His responsibilities will cover domestic and international antisemitism, and Holocaust education at every level.
His first assignment was to head the Canadian Delegation to the plenary of the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance, or IHRA, (pronounced eera). The meeting, hosted in Leipzig, Germany, was already in progress, but being virtual it was easy to jump in, except for the time difference. Until that assignment, the plethora of acronyms signifying organizations studying antisemitism and Holocaust had formed a sort of alphabet soup in my head. Ever since, like with a word you’ve just looked up, I notice references to IHRA all over the place, especially in connection with its definition of antisemitism. This is causing a lot of consternation among even more groups, with and without acronyms.
More about that later; first I’d like to focus on the two Winnipeg delegates at the plenary. When I spoke to Prof. Cotler, the meeting had just wound up, and when he learned I was from Winnipeg he mentioned how impressed he had been with Belle Jarniewski and David Matas. I made up my mind right then to pitch this article idea to Bernie; I believed it would be interesting to learn through these members of our community, what IHRA, the plenary, the definition, and the work, is all about.
David Matas, senior legal counsel at Bnai B’brith Canada, was one of the Canadian delegates at the original meeting in Stockholm in 2000, which drafted the founding document (Stockholm Declaration) that became IHRA. He attended again in 2007, 2008, 2018 and every year since. This recent plenary ran from November 24th to December 3rd, which meant attending a couple of weeks of meetings at 5:30 am Winnipeg time, 12:30 pm Leipzig time. Cotler joined the second week, from Montreal. Meeting electronically with the Canadian delegates was his first task as special envoy.
Belle Jarniewski, Executive Director of the Jewish Heritage Centre of Western Canada, was part of the national group bringing Canada into the International Task Force for Cooperation on Holocaust Education, Remembrance and Research, (which evolved to become IHRA). When Canada became the 27th member of IHRA, (on June 24th, 2009, according to the Canada and the IHRA websites), she became a member of that delegation.
When a country joins IHRA, among other criteria, it must establish a Holocaust Memorial Day, and commit to Holocaust education at a senior political level. Its archives for the years 1933-1950 must be open for research, allowing academic, educational, and public access to the examination of those years of the country’s history. IHRA currently has 34 Members, one Liaison country, seven Observer Countries and eight Permanent International Partners, studying the latest developments in the field of Holocaust education, remembrance and research. According to IHRA’s own report on the plenary, there were 250 delegates at the meeting.
I asked Jarniewski how she saw IHRA differing from all those other organizations (the alphabet soup). She explained “…IHRA is the only intergovernmental organization mandated to focus solely on Holocaust-related issues, bringing together government representatives as well as experts. In addition to the definitions on antisemitism, Holocaust denial and distortion, and anti-Roma discrimination, the IHRA’s academic research publications have contributed greatly to the field of Holocaust Studies. IHRA’s pedagogical experts continue to develop detailed resources in order to help educators keep abreast of the latest best practices in education on the Holocaust and antisemitism. IHRA also supports and helps fund projects and conferences in the fields of Holocaust remembrance, research, and education. This in turn provides guidance to policy-makers, educators, civil society, and researchers.”
Part of Cotler’s mandate in his new position will be to address Holocaust denial and distortion, together with enhancing the adoption and implementation of the IHRA definition. Anyone who has experienced antisemitism, even in a mild form, recognizes it and doesn’t need a definition, but so that scholarly folk can study and deal with it empirically, and so it can be applied in a practical sense, a working definition is necessary. The definition was first developed in 2005 by the European Union Monitoring Centre. After careful study and adaptation it was adopted by IHRA in 2016.
It consists of two parts. The first part reads as follows: “Antisemitism is a certain perception of Jews, which may be expressed as hatred toward Jews. Rhetorical and manifestations of antisemitism are directed toward Jewish or non-Jewish individuals and/or their property, toward Jewish community institutions and religious facilities.”
The second part, accompanying the statement and forming an integral part of it, are 11 indicators of antisemitism. In total, the definition is meant to be a working tool, not legally binding, and it is gradually being adopted by governments, parliaments and communities at all levels, in efforts to combat this oldest hatred which irrationally metastasizes wherever it infects.
Recently in the JP&N, Jarniewski wrote an effective rebuttal to a complaint someone had sent the newspaper regarding some of the definition’s examples, which he said made it inconvenient for him to express certain of his ideas. In her rebuttal she stated… “The definition must be adopted holus bolus along with the examples”…a stipulation that she says has been “….repeated over and over again by the IHRA.” Here are the 11 examples, as stated on IHRA’s website:
—Calling for, aiding, or justifying the killing or harming of Jews in the name of a radical ideology or an extremist view of religion.
—Making mendacious, dehumanizing, demonizing, or stereotypical allegations about Jews as such or the power of Jews as collective — such as, especially but not exclusively, the myth about a world Jewish conspiracy or of Jews controlling the media, economy, government or other societal institutions.
—Accusing Jews as a people of being responsible for real or imagined wrongdoing committed by a single Jewish person or group, or even for acts committed by non-Jews.
—Denying the fact, scope, mechanisms (e.g. gas chambers) or intentionality, of the genocide of the Jewish people at the hands of National Socialist Germany and its supporters and accomplices during World War II (the Holocaust).
—Accusing the Jews as a people, or Israel as a state, of inventing or exaggerating the Holocaust.
—Accusing Jewish citizens of being more loyal to Israel, or to the alleged priorities of Jews worldwide, than to the interests of their own nations.
—Denying the Jewish people their right to self-determination, e.g., by claiming that the existence of a State of Israel is a racist endeavor.
—Applying double standards by requiring of Israel a behaviour not expected or demanded of any other democratic nation.
—Using the symbols and images associated with classic antisemitism (e.g., claims of Jews killing Jesus or blood libel) to characterize Israel or Israelis.
—Drawing comparisons of contemporary Israeli policy to that of the Nazis.
-Holding Jews collectively responsible for actions of the state of Israel.
There they are! Taken together with the earlier section, they define antisemitism. It must have been an emotionally wrenching exercise, putting this list together.
In November 2019, Matas presented a paper entitled “The IHRA definition of antisemitism: criticisms and responses” for a seminar at the Kantor Centre on Contemporary Antisemitism, wherein he methodically set out the extent of official acceptance of the definition, criticism of that acceptance, and proposed responses to the critics. In it he urges member states of the European Union to encourages its members that have not done so yet to “…endorse the non legally binding working definition of antisemitism employed by the IHRA, as a useful guidance tool in education and training, including for law enforcement authorities in their efforts to identify and investigate antisemitic attacks efficiently and effectively.”
Several EU members have indeed done so, and in fact the EU has recently put out a handbook for practical use of the IHRA working definition. I further asked Matas if the United Nations had endorsed the definition. He referred me to the remarks in November 2020 of Miguel Moratinos, High Representative for the United Nations Alliance of Civilizations: “I plan to work on having an agreement on a definition of anti-Semitism within the UN, based on the IHRA definition which constitutes a basis to start from.” (I suppose it would be too much to ask that he incorporate the part about Israel?)
According to Matas, any organization can accept the definition of antisemitism. He told me that Bnai B’rith is proactive in getting organizations to endorse the effort, but any association can introduce discussion and begin the procedure…. sports organizations, service clubs like Kiwanis and Rotary, Police Departments, Community Clubs, synagogues, community newspapers. Jarniewski pointed out municipalities in Quebec and Ontario that have endorsed the IHRA definition include: Westmount; Cote Saint-Luc; Aurora; Newmarket; Markham; and Richmond Hill.
Notably, one of the accomplishments of the plenary this year has been the definition of “anti-Roma”. Between 250,000 and 500,000 Roma perished in the Holocaust, out of a pre-war population of between 1 and 1.5 million. As special delegate Cotler never tires of pointing out “…while it begins with the Jews it doesn’t end with Jews, and antisemitism is the bloodied canary in the mineshaft of global evil today.” I asked if there were Roma delegates to IHRA and Jarniewski told me there were, including in the Canadian delegation.
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.