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
The Torah on a Lost Dog: Hashavat Aveidah in a Modern Canadian City
A neighbour’s dog wanders into your yard on a Wednesday morning in May, dragging a leash and looking confused. You have a choice. You can close the door and assume someone else will deal with it, call the city, or take a photo, knock on a few doors, and try to find out where he belongs.
For most people in Winnipeg and elsewhere in Canada, that choice plays out in a flash of moral instinct rather than reflection. The hand reaches for the phone and the walk around the block begins. The neighbour, if it goes well, is at the door before lunch. The decision feels minor, but it matters more than it looks.
In Jewish tradition, the act of returning a lost animal sits at the centre of one of the oldest practical commandments in the Torah. Deuteronomy 22, near the end of Parashat Ki Teitzei, contains a passage that has become the foundation for an entire body of Jewish ethical law: “If you see your fellow’s ox or sheep going astray, you shall not hide yourself from them; you shall surely bring them back.” The verse goes on to extend this duty beyond animals to any lost property. “So shall you do with every lost thing of your brother’s which he has lost and you have found.” Then comes the line that has occupied rabbis for two thousand years: “You may not hide yourself.”
The Hebrew name for this mitzvah is hashavat aveidah, the returning of a lost thing. It is one of the more practical commandments in a tradition full of practical commandments, and the rabbinic literature surrounding it is unusually thick.
A small commandment with big implications
The reason hashavat aveidah occupies so much rabbinic attention is that, on closer reading, it sets a high ethical bar. The Talmud, particularly the second chapter of tractate Bava Metzia known as Eilu Metziot, devotes pages to questions a modern reader would immediately recognize. How long must you wait for the owner to claim the item? How hard do you have to look for them? What if the animal needs feeding while you search? What expenses can you recover, and what counts as fair? What if the item is too inconvenient to safely return?
The rabbis answer all of these. The answers are not always intuitive. The finder is obligated to feed and shelter the animal while looking for the owner. The animal must not be put to work for the finder’s profit. The owner, when found, repays reasonable costs but is not on the hook for unreasonable ones. If the search takes too long, there are procedures for what to do next, none of which involve quietly keeping what is not yours.
Underneath the legal detail is a moral assumption that is easy to miss in a hurried reading. The Torah does not say to return the animal if it is convenient. It explicitly forbids the act of hiding yourself, of pretending you did not see, of crossing to the other side of the street. The commandment is as much about the person who finds as it is about the animal that is lost.
What this looks like in 2026
Most people who encounter a stray dog in a Winnipeg neighbourhood today are not thinking about Bava Metzia. They are thinking about whether the dog is friendly, whether they should call the City, whether they have time. The instinct to help is usually present. The question is what to do with it.
The practical infrastructure for hashavat aveidah in this country has changed considerably in the last decade. A finder in Winnipeg in 2026 has access to a regional humane society, a network of local Facebook groups, neighbourhood newsletters, and a handful of national platforms that gather sightings and missing-pet alerts across more than 180 Canadian cities. The mechanism is straightforward. A clear photo and a location pin can reach the right owner within hours when the system works, which it usually does.
The most underused of these resources, in any community, is the simple act of posting a sighting. Many people who find a stray feel they need to first catch the animal, find it food, take it home, or in some way solve the problem in full. The rabbis would actually disagree with that framing, and so does modern pet-recovery practice. The first responsibility is to make the sighting visible. The owner is almost certainly already looking. The finder’s main job is to surface what they have seen.
For people in Winnipeg looking for a place to start, a practical guide for what to do when you find a stray walks through the basic steps. Take a clear photo, note the cross-streets and time, check for a tag, and post the sighting where local owners will see it. The work is small. The effect, on the owner who has been awake for two nights and then sees a photo of their dog with a phone number underneath, is much larger than the work itself.
The ethical centre of the commandment
There is a strain of Jewish thought that reads hashavat aveidah as a kind of training in noticing. The deeper commandment goes beyond returning what is lost. It asks the finder to be the kind of person who sees what is lost in the first place, who does not cross to the other side of the street, who does not pretend not to have noticed.
That reading lines up with another Jewish ethical concept that often gets paired with this one: tza’ar ba’alei chayim, the obligation to prevent unnecessary suffering to animals. The Talmud derives this principle from several places in the Torah, including the rest commanded for animals on Shabbat. The two principles overlap in the case of a lost pet. The animal is suffering. The owner is suffering. The finder is, briefly, the only person in the position to do anything about it.
In a small way, the entire Canadian volunteer ecosystem around lost pets, from neighbourhood Facebook groups to national platforms to the dog walker who recognizes a posted photo, is an example of this ethical structure in action. People do not necessarily think of it in those terms. The framework is there anyway, doing its quiet work.
A community-scale point
Winnipeg’s Jewish community has always understood itself as a network of responsibilities to others, the kind that get described as chesed when they are visible and assumed when they are not. The work of returning a lost animal sits comfortably in that frame. It is not heroic, does not make the bulletin, and is exactly the kind of small obligation that knits a community together when nobody is paying attention.
The dog in the yard on a Wednesday morning in May, leash trailing, is one version of the question Deuteronomy asks. The answer, then and now, is the same. Do not hide yourself.
Features
Basketball: How has Israel become one of the best basketball countries in Europe in the last few years?
When Israeli Deni Avdija became the first Israeli to be drafted as the highest Israeli draftee in NBA history in 2020 – then emerged as a key NBA wing in Portland, it was not so much the breakthrough it appeared to be, but a portent of things to come. Israeli basketball development has been decades in the making, and in recent years its clubs have made Europe take notice.
This is why Maccabi Tel Aviv, Hapoel Tel Aviv, and the national basketball team of Israel are now the subjects of serious discussion in European basketball. It is only natural that fans and bettors reading form, depth of the roster, and momentum would look at our Euroleague predictions and then evaluate how Israeli teams would fit into the continental picture.
A rich history: The Maccabi Tel Aviv mythos
The contemporary narrative dates back to before Avdija. Maccabi Tel Aviv won its maiden European Cup in 1977, beating Mobilgirgi Varese and providing a nation under pressure with a sporting icon. Tal Brody’s declaration: “We are on the map” became not just a quote, it became a declaration of Jewish confidence, Israeli strength and a basketball dream.
Maccabi turned out to be the team of the nation since it bore Israeli identity past the borders. Maccabi has been a cultural ambassador before globalization transformed elite lists into multinational conundrums. Its yellow jerseys were the symbol of excellence, rebellion, and identification for the Israeli people at home and Jewish communities abroad.
The six European championships for the club provided a benchmark that has influenced the Winner League and Israeli basketball. Children were not just spectators of Maccabi, they dreamed of Europe as something accessible. Coaches studied in the continental competition. Sponsors and broadcasters realized that basketball had the potential to be the most exportable Israel team sport.
The modern pillars of Israeli basketball’s success
The recent ascendancy of Israel is no magic. It is the result of history, astute recruiting, youth-building and pressure-tested league culture. The nation has made its size its strength: clubs find talent at a young age and enhance the potential with foreign professionals.
Nurturing homegrown talent: The Deni Avdija effect
The most obvious example is that of Avdija. He was a high-ranking contributor in the system of Maccabi Tel Aviv, was chosen as a teenager, and was picked number 9 by Washington in the 2020 NBA Draft. His career was a reminder that an Israeli prospect could be more than a local star; he could be a lottery pick with two-way NBA potential.
Israeli NBA player Omri Casspi had already opened that door, and Avdija opened it even further for the next generation. Their achievements captivated the expectations of youthful players in Tel Aviv, Jerusalem, Holon, Herzliya, etc. An Israeli teenager is now able to envision a path from youth leagues to the Winner League, the EuroLeague, and ultimately – NBA minutes.
It is that dream that has been followed by investment. Israeli clubs put more emphasis on skills training, strength training, and analytics, as well as international youth tournaments. The success of the national program in the face of the best of Europe has also helped.
A global approach: The role of international and naturalized stars
The other pillar of the Israeli basketball program is the openness of Israel to global talent. The Winner League has been an important destination, not a stopover, for American guards and forwards. Most come in with NCAA or G league experience and become leaders due to the fact that the league requires scoring, speed and tactical flexibility.
It is enriched with naturalized players and Jewish players, who are able to use the Law of Return to come to Israel to play. Inspired by legendary players like Tal Brody, current imports who can bond both professionally and personally with Israelis have provided teams with uncharacteristic diversity in their rosters. The outcome has been a mixture of Israeli competitiveness, American shot making, Balkan toughness, and European spacing.
Making waves in Europe: Israel’s modern Euroleague footprint
Even in challenging seasons, Maccabi Tel Aviv has remained the flagship team. Currently, Maccabi is out of a playoff spot in the EuroLeague, but Hapoel Tel Aviv has shot up in playoff discussion. That juxtaposition speaks volumes: Israel is no longer represented by one lone, iconic club. Its profile has expanded.
Nevertheless, it is true that the reputation of Maccabi in the EuroLeague does count. Menora Mivtachim Arena in Tel Aviv is one of the most intimidating arenas for EuroLeague teams to play in: loud and emotional. Recent security and travel realities have affected the usual home-court advantage but the name of the club is still a potent brand.
It is the reason why there is an interesting betting discussion within Israeli teams. The name Maccabi still retains a historical impact, but analysts also need to quantify the present defensive performance, injuries, substitution of venues and guards, and fatigue in the schedule. The emergence of Hapoel has provided another Israeli point of reference and markets have to regard the nation as a multi-club force.
What’s next? The future of Israeli basketball on the world stage
Sustainability is the second test. The Israeli national basketball team desires more serious EuroBasket performances and a future world cup. It requires Avdija types – fit and powerful, more domestic big men, and guards capable of playing elite defense to get there.
The pipeline is an optimistic one. Israeli schools are more professional, teams are bolder with young talents, and the Winner League is a test ground where potential talents have to contend with older, tougher imports each week. Not all players will turn into an Avdija, yet additional players ought to be prepared to participate in EuroCup, EuroLeague, and even NBA games.
To the Jews in the Canadian diaspora, the impact is not only sporting, it is also emotional. Israeli basketball brings pride, drama and a common language to the continents. To the European fan, it provides tempo, creativity and unpredictability. To analysts, it provides a sign that a small nation, with memory, ambition and adaptation, can rise to become a true basketball power. Israel has ceased to be the unexpected guest on the table of Europe. It is a part of it, season after season.
Features
In recent years, we have been looking for something more than a house in Israel – we have been looking for a home
For many Jewish families in the diaspora, Israel has always been more than a destination. It is the land of tefillah, memory, family history and belonging. But in recent years, many families have begun asking a practical question too: should Israel also become a place where we have a home?
Not necessarily immediate aliyah. Sometimes it begins with a future option, something good to have just in case, or simply roots with a stronger connection to Eretz Yisroel.
But what does it mean?
A Jewish home is shaped not only by what is inside the front door, but by what surrounds it: neighbours, synagogues, schools, parks, local services, safe streets and the rhythm of Jewish life. For observant families, these are not small details. They are the things that turn a house into a place of belonging.
This is not a new idea. It is a need that has helped shape Jewish communities in Israel before. The Savyonim idea is rooted in the story of Savyon, the Israeli community established in the 1950s by South African Jews who wanted to create a green, safe and community-minded environment in Israel. It was a diaspora dream translated into life in the Jewish homeland.
That idea feels relevant again today. Many Jewish families abroad are now making plans around where they can feel connected in the years ahead.
Recent figures point in the same direction. Reports based on Israel’s Ministry of Finance data showed that foreign residents bought around 1,900 homes in Israel in 2024, about 50% more than the previous year, with Jerusalem emerging as the most popular place to buy. In January 2026, foreign residents still purchased 146 homes, broadly similar to January 2025, even as the wider housing market remained cautious.
For Lior David, International Sales & Marketing Manager at Africa Israel Residences, part of the continued interest may lie in the fact that today’s residential projects are increasingly built around the wider needs of Jewish families abroad: not only buying a property in Israel, but finding a setting that can support community, continuity and everyday Jewish life. That idea is reflected in Savyonim, the company’s residential concept, which places the surrounding environment at the heart of choosing a home.
This can be seen in Savyoney Givat Shmuel, where the surrounding environment includes synagogues, parks, educational institutions, local commerce, playgrounds and transport links, and in Savyoney Ramat Sharet in Jerusalem, located in one of the city’s established green neighbourhoods.
For families abroad, these things matter. Jerusalem and Givat Shmuel are never just another location. They are home to strong Jewish communities, established religious life and surroundings that allow a family to imagine not only buying property, but building a Jewish home in Israel.
Together, these projects reflect a broader understanding: that for many Jews in the diaspora, the decision to create a home in Israel is not only practical, but rooted in identity, continuity and community. The Savyonim story began with a Zionist community from abroad that succeeded in building a real home in Israel; today, that same vision continues in a contemporary form.