Features
Jewish nonprofits are struggling. How should donors try to rescue them?
By BEN SALES NEW YORK (JTA) — In the weeks after it became clear that the coronavirus pandemic would spark a lasting economic crisis, the Jewish world’s leading funder group put together a memo with some back-of-the-envelope projections for how much Jewish nonprofits stood to lose.
The tally: at least $650 million, according to the internal document from the Jewish Federations of North America, which was based on estimates from several American Jewish umbrella organizations, such as the Foundation for Jewish Camp and the JCC Association of North America. The document was produced in March and obtained by the Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
The document says Jewish camps, schools, community centers and other groups like college Hillels will need that much or more to make it through the pandemic, which has already caused widespread layoffs and furloughs at Jewish community centers across the United States.
On Monday, a coalition of large Jewish philanthropic foundations pledged $80 million to shore up struggling Jewish organizations. But now, with it becoming increasingly clear that the world will not snap back to its former shape anytime soon, that number appears to be a fraction of what will be needed. Doron Krakow, CEO of the JCC Association of North America, told JTA earlier this month that the need would exceed $800 million if camps have to close for the summer and a recession drags into a second year.
The sudden financial blow is reanimating a longstanding debate about the best way to support America’s robust infrastructure of Jewish nonprofits. Should collective, communal fundraising bodies like Jewish federations have responsibility for disbursing philanthropy across the Jewish world? Or should the wide array of private Jewish family foundations each give separately to their causes?
Proponents of the network of Jewish federations, which act as collective funding bodies for local Jewish communities across the country, have suggested a single massive pool of coronavirus philanthropic assistance, to be managed centrally. No overarching plan has been put forward yet, but the Jewish Telegraphic Agency has learned that several leading funders are working to form a fund that would provide loans to Jewish organizations on the brink of going broke.
Among them is Krakow, who has called for private Jewish foundations and Jewish federations, which act as collective charities for Jewish communities across the country, to create a loan fund of $1 billion.
“There’s a need to know with confidence that we can keep one eye on the horizon and know that there’s a day after,” he said.
But some in the world of Jewish philanthropy are already raising questions about whether a centrally administered megafund is the best strategy to shepherd geographically and programmatically diverse organizations through the crisis.
“A ‘Billion Dollar Fund,’ a ‘Jewish New Deal’ [or] a ‘COVID czar’ are fine and well-intentioned ideas that look good on paper and seem simple and straightforward, but they are anything but,” Andres Spokoiny, CEO of the Jewish Funders Network, which convenes Jewish donors and foundations, wrote in a recent essay in the publication eJewish Philanthropy.
“As leaders it’s our responsibility to accept reality and focus on practical, smaller-scale, sector-specific solutions that can work,” Spokoiny wrote. “The aggregate of all those will be surely larger than any central fund and will produce a richer and more vibrant result.”
The $80 million fund, announced Monday, appears to attempt a third way. It’s a coalition between the Jewish Federations of North America and eight large Jewish philanthropic foundations. Called the Jewish Community Response and Impact Fund, it will prioritize organizations that focus on education, leadership and engagement, though a press release did not provide further detail on those fields.
The fund will provide short-term loans to organizations to meet payroll and maintain operations in the next three to six months, and will also award grants that do not have to be repaid. Participating foundations include the Jim Joseph Foundation, Maimonides Fund, Charles and Lynn Schusterman Family Foundation and others.
“We have also seen firsthand the acute challenges Jewish organizations across the country are facing,” read a statement from the funders. “While this fund alone cannot address all of those challenges, we believe that investing together in these vital pillars of Jewish life will help ensure a stronger future for American Jewry in the months and years to come,”
Beyond that fund, experts in American Jewish philanthropy say that large individual donors and family foundations are likely to eschew putting their money in a giant pool. While federations used to dominate the Jewish giving scene, they and their ethos of collective giving have ceded more ground to private foundations, as large donors have become more involved in the causes they fund and more particular about how their money is spent.
“If we’ve seen any trend in philanthropy over the course of the last number of decades, it’s to targeted giving,” said Jack Wertheimer, a professor of American Jewish history at the Jewish Theological Seminary. “Donors are leery of giving large amounts of their philanthropy to a pot that will be divided up, not according to their own wishes but according to the directives of some body that would make the decision. Federations obviously have suffered from this.”
But there’s still interplay between large donors and federations, said Hanna Shaul Bar Nissim, a visiting scholar at Brandeis University who focuses on American Jewish philanthropy. Many Jewish family foundations give to their local Jewish federations and, in turn, sit on their boards or have influence over where the federation money goes.
“The golden rule of, the size of your donation impacts the size of your involvement, is very relevant to the world of Jewish federations,” said Bar Nissim, who is also deputy director of the Ruderman Family Foundation. “The more you give, the more you can have a say and become involved.”
No matter how the debate is settled — or whether it is at all — it’s clear that funders must move quickly if they are to blunt the effects of the pandemic, which has rendered at least 20 million Americans jobless in just four weeks.
Other Jewish philanthropies have also started doling out funds. New York’s UJA-Federation has announced $43 million in grants to social service organizations, JCCs and individuals in need.
And the Harold Grinspoon Foundation, which usually gives approximately $3 million annually to Jewish camps, has announced an additional $10 million in matching grants to help camps survive whatever financial damage this coming summer may bring.
The foundation’s leadership understands that $10 million is not nearly enough to fill camps’ anticipated needs — that would take about $150 million, the foundation estimates. Still, Sarah Eisinger, who heads the foundation’s camp initiative, said she hoped the $10 million dollars would set an example and give the camps a measure of hope.
“It’s only one intervention,” she said. “It’s only one slice of a much larger pie. But the early impact of that money and the psychological lift of a shot in the arm will fuel a sense of optimism and a possibility to raise resources.”
The foundation moved quickly in part because its president, Winnie Grinspoon, realized that hewing to longstanding giving practices, or waiting for them to be renegotiated, would deepen the financial devastation that is already unfolding.
“This is an unprecedented situation, as we all know, and the rules and restrictions we might operate under at a normal time go out the window,” Grinspoon said.
She added, “This is the moment to give boldly, to go beyond our normal giving structure and limitations for those who are able to reach deep into their pockets, so we don’t look back with regret.”
Features
Digital entertainment options continue expanding for the local community
For decades, the rhythm of life in Winnipeg has been dictated by the seasons. When the deep freeze sets in and the sidewalks become treacherous with ice, the natural tendency for many residents—especially the older generation—has been to retreat indoors. In the past, this seasonal hibernation often came at the cost of social connection, limiting interactions to telephone calls or the occasional brave venture out for essential errands.
However, the landscape of leisure and community engagement has undergone a radical transformation in recent years, driven by the rapid adoption of digital tools.
Virtual gatherings replace traditional community center meetups
The transition from physical meeting spaces to digital platforms has been one of the most significant changes in local community life. Where weekly schedules once revolved around driving to a community center for coffee and conversation, many seniors now log in from the comfort of their favorite armchairs.
This shift has democratized access to socialization, particularly for those with mobility issues or those who no longer drive. Programs that were once limited by the physical capacity of a room or the ability of attendees to travel are now accessible to anyone with an internet connection.
Established organizations have pivoted to meet this digital demand with impressive results. The Jewish Federation’s digital outreach has seen substantial engagement, with their “Federation Flash” e-publications exceeding industry standards for open rates. This indicates a community that is hungry for information and connection, regardless of the medium.
Online gaming provides accessible leisure for homebound adults
While communication and culture are vital, the need for pure recreation and mental stimulation cannot be overlooked. Long winter evenings require accessible forms of entertainment that keep the mind active and engaged.
For many older adults, the digital realm has replaced the physical card table or the printed crossword puzzle. Tablets and computers now host a vast array of brain-training apps, digital jigsaw puzzles, and strategy games that offer both solitary and social play options.
The variety of available digital diversions is vast, catering to every level of technical proficiency and interest. Some residents prefer the quiet concentration of Sudoku apps or word searches that help maintain cognitive sharpness. Others gravitate towards more dynamic experiences. For those seeking a bit of thrill from the comfort of home, exploring regulated entertainment options like Canadian real money slots has become another facet of the digital leisure mix. These platforms offer a modern twist on traditional pastimes, accessible without the need to travel to a physical venue.
However, the primary driver for most digital gaming adoption remains cognitive health and stress relief. Strategy games that require planning and memory are particularly popular, often recommended as a way to keep neural pathways active.
Streaming services bring Israeli culture to Winnipeg living rooms
Beyond simple socialization and entertainment, technology has opened new avenues for cultural enrichment and education. For many in the community, staying connected to Jewish heritage and Israeli culture is a priority, yet travel is not always feasible.
Streaming technology has bridged this gap, bringing the sights and sounds of Israel directly into Winnipeg homes. Through virtual tours, livestreamed lectures, and interactive cultural programs, residents can experience a sense of global connection that was previously difficult to maintain without hopping on a plane.
Local programming has adapted to facilitate this cultural exchange. Events that might have previously been attended by a handful of people in a lecture hall are now broadcast to hundreds. For instance, the community has seen successful implementation of educational sessions like the “Lunch and Learn” programs, which cover vital topics such as accessibility standards for Jewish organizations.
By leveraging video conferencing, organizers can bring in expert speakers from around the world—including Israeli emissaries—to engage with local seniors at centers like Gwen Secter, creating a rich tapestry of global dialogue.
Balancing digital engagement with face-to-face connection
As the community embraces these digital tools, the conversation is shifting toward finding the right balance between screen time and face time. The demographics of the community make this balance critical. Recent data highlights that 23.6% of Jewish Winnipeggers are over the age of 65, a statistic that underscores the importance of accessible technology. For this significant portion of the population, digital tools are not just toys but essential lifelines that mitigate the risks of loneliness associated with aging in place.
Looking ahead, the goal for local organizations is to integrate these digital successes into a cohesive strategy. The ideal scenario involves using technology to facilitate eventual in-person connections—using an app to organize a meetup, or a Zoom call to plan a community dinner.
As Winnipeg moves forward, the lessons learned during the winters of isolation will likely result in a more inclusive, connected, and technologically savvy community that values every interaction, whether it happens across a table or across a screen.
Features
Susan Silverman: diversification personified
By GERRY POSNER I recently had the good fortune to meet, by accident, a woman I knew from my past, that is my ancient past. Her name is Susan Silverman. Reconnecting with her was a real treat. The treat became even better when I was able to learn about her life story.
From the south end of Winnipeg beginning on Ash Street and later to 616 Waverley Street – I can still picture the house in my mind – and then onward and upwards, Susan has had quite a life. The middle daughter (sisters Adrienne and Jo-Anne) of Bernie Silverman and Celia (Goldstein), Susan was a student at River Heights, Montrose and then Kelvin High School. She had the good fortune to be exposed to music early in her life as her father was (aside from being a well known businessman) – an accomplished jazz pianist. He often hosted jam sessions with talented Black musicians. As well, Susan could relate to the visual arts as her mother became a sculptor and later, a painter.
When Susan was seven, she (and a class of 20 others), did three grades in two years. The result was that that she entered the University of Manitoba at the tender age of 16 – something that could not happen today. What she gained the most, as she looks back on those years, were the connections she made and friendships formed, many of which survive and thrive to this day. She was a part of the era of fraternity formals, guys in tuxedos and gals in fancy “ cocktail dresses,” adorned with bouffant hair-dos and wrist corsages.
Upon graduation, Susan’s wanderlust took her to London, England. That move ignited in her a love of travel – which remains to this day. But that first foray into international travel lasted a short time and soon she was back in Winnipeg working for the Children’s Aid Society. That job allowed her to save some money and soon she was off to Montreal. It was there, along with her roommate, the former Diane Unrode, that she enjoyed a busy social life and a place for her to take up skiing. She had the good fortune of landing a significant job as an executive with an international chemical company that allowed her to travel the world as in Japan, Hong Kong, New Zealand, Australia, Mexico, the Netherlands and even the USA. Not a bad gig.
In 1983, her company relocated to Toronto. She ended up working for companies in the forest products industry as well the construction technology industry. After a long stint in the corporate world, Susan began her own company called “The Resourceful Group,” providing human resource and management consulting services to smaller enterprises. Along the way, she served on a variety of boards of directors for both profit and non-profit sectors.
Even with all that, Susan was really just beginning. Upon her retirement in 2006, she began a life of volunteering. That role included many areas, from mentoring new Canadians in English conversation through JIAS (Jewish Immigrant Aid Services) to visiting patients at a Toronto rehabilitation hospital, to conducting minyan and shiva services. Few people volunteer in such diverse ways. She is even a frequent contributor to the National Post Letters section, usually with respect to the defence of Israel
and Jewish causes.
The stars aligned on New Year’s Eve, 1986, when she met her soon to be husband, Murray Leiter, an ex- Montrealer. Now married for 36 plus years, they have been blessed with a love of travel and adventure. In the early 1990s they moved to Oakville and joined the Temple Shaarei Beth -El Congregation. They soon were involved in synagogue life, making life long friends there. Susan and Murray joined the choir, then Susan took the next step and became a Bat Mitzvah. Too bad there is no recording of that moment. Later, when they returned to Toronto, they joined Temple Emanu-el and soon sang in that choir as well.
What has inspired both Susan and Murray to this day is the concept of Tikkun Olam. Serving as faith visitors at North York General Hospital and St. John’s Rehab respectively is just one of the many volunteer activities that has enriched both of their lives and indeed the lives of the people they have assisted and continue to assist.
Another integral aspect of Susan’s life has been her annual returns to Winnipeg. She makes certain to visit her parents, grandparents, and other family members at the Shaarey Zedek Cemetery. She also gets to spend time with her cousins, Hilllaine and Richard Kroft and friends, Michie end Billy Silverberg, Roz and Mickey Rosenberg, as well as her former brother-in-law Hy Dashevsky and his wife Esther. She says about her time with her friends: “how lucky we are to experience the extraordinary Winnipeg hospitality.”
Her Winnipeg time always includes requisite stops at the Pancake House, Tre Visi Cafe and Assiniboine Park. Even 60 plus years away from the “‘peg,” Susan feels privileged to have grown up in such a vibrant Jewish community. The city will always have a special place in her heart. Moreover, she seems to have made a Winnipegger out of her husband. That would be a new definition of Grow Winnipeg.
Features
Beneath the Prairie Calm: Manitoba’s Growing Vulnerability to Influence Networks
By MARTIN ZEILIG After reading Who’s Behind the Hard Right in Canada? A Reference Guide to Canada’s Disinformation Network — a report published by the Canadian AntiHate Network that maps the organizations, influencers, and funding pipelines driving coordinated right wing disinformation across the country — I’m left with a blunt conclusion: Canada is losing control of its political story, and Manitoba is far more exposed than we like to admit.
We often imagine ourselves as observers of political upheaval elsewhere — the U.S., Europe, even Alberta.
But the document lays out a sprawling, coordinated ecosystem of think tanks, influencers, strategists, and international organizations that is already shaping political attitudes across the Prairies. Manitoba is not an exception. In many ways, we’re a prime target.
The report describes a pipeline of influence that begins with global organizations like the International Democracy Union and the Atlas Network. These groups are not fringe. They are well funded, deeply connected, and explicitly designed to shape political outcomes across borders. Their Canadian partners translate global ideological projects into local messaging, policy proposals, and campaign strategies.
But the most concerning part isn’t the international influence — it’s the domestic machinery built to amplify it.
The Canada Strong and Free Network acts as a central hub linking donors, strategists, and political operatives. Around it sits a constellation of digital media outlets and influencer accounts that specialize in outrage driven content. They take think tank talking points, strip out nuance, and convert them into viral narratives designed to provoke anger rather than understanding.
CAHN’s analysis reinforces this point. The report describes Canada’s far right ecosystem as “coordinated and emboldened,” with actors who deliberately craft emotionally charged narratives meant to overwhelm rather than inform. They operate what the report characterizes as an “outrage feedback loop,” where sensational claims spread faster than journalists or researchers can contextualize them. The goal is not persuasion through evidence, but domination through repetition.
This is not healthy democratic debate.
It is a parallel information system engineered to overwhelm journalism, distort public perception, and create the illusion of widespread grassroots demand. And because these groups operate outside formal political structures, they face far fewer transparency requirements. Manitobans have no clear way of knowing who funds them, who directs them, or what their longterm objectives are.
If this feels abstract, look closer to home.
Manitoba has become fertile ground for these networks. Our province has a long history of political moderation, but also deep economic anxieties — especially in rural communities, resource dependent regions, and areas hit hard by demographic change. These are precisely the conditions that make disinformation ecosystems effective.
When people feel unheard, the loudest voices win.
We saw hints of this during the pandemic, when convoy aligned groups found strong support in parts of Manitoba. We see it now in the rise of local influencers who echo national talking points almost in real time. And we see it in the growing hostility toward institutions — from public health to the CBC — that once formed the backbone of civic trust in this province.
CAHN’s research also shows how quickly these networks can grow. Some nationalist groups have seen membership spikes of more than 60 percent in short periods, driven by targeted digital campaigns that exploit economic uncertainty and cultural anxiety. These surges are not organic. They are engineered.
The document also highlights the rise of explicitly exclusionary nationalist groups promoting ideas like “remigration,” a euphemism for mass deportation of nonEuropean immigrants. These groups remain small, but Manitoba’s demographic reality — a province where immigration is essential to economic survival — makes their presence especially dangerous. When extremist ideas begin to circulate within mainstream political networks, they gain a legitimacy they have not earned.
Even more troubling is how these ideas migrate.
CAHN warns that concepts once confined to fringe spaces are now being repackaged in sanitized language and pushed through influencers, think tanks, and political operatives seeking legitimacy. When these narratives appear alongside conventional policy debates, they gain a veneer of normalcy that obscures their origins.
None of this means Manitoba is on the brink of political collapse.
Our institutions remain resilient, and our political culture is still fundamentally moderate. But sovereignty is not just about borders or military power. It is also about information — who controls it, who manipulates it, and who benefits from its distortion. When opaque networks shape public opinion through coordinated disinformation, that sovereignty erodes.
CAHN’s broader warning is that trust itself is under attack. Farright networks intentionally target public institutions — media, universities, public health agencies, cultural organizations — because weakening trust creates a vacuum they can fill with their own narratives. A democracy becomes vulnerable when people no longer share a common set of facts.
The danger is not that Manitoba will suddenly adopt the politics of another country. The danger is that we will drift into a political environment shaped by forces we don’t see, don’t understand, and cannot hold accountable. A democracy cannot function if its information ecosystem is captured by actors who thrive on outrage, opacity, and division.
The solution is not censorship. It is transparency. It is rebuilding trust in journalism. It is demanding higher standards from the organizations that shape our political discourse. Manitobans deserve to know who is influencing their democracy and why.
We are not immune.
And believing we are immune is the most dangerous illusion of all.