By BERNIE BELLAN We are often asked by readers why we profile so many ex-Winnipeggers.
“Aren’t there enough Winnipeggers with interesting stories to tell?” is what a lot of readers ask us.
The truth is that finding interesting people to write about is the easy part; finding writers who want to take the time to interview those interesting people though, and then turning that interview into a well-written article is the hard part.
When I was the publisher of this paper I generally shied away from doing exactly that kind of profile. It was time consuming and, knowing how fussy many individuals are about what’s written about them, I always felt an obligation to let the interview subject vet what I had written – even to make changes if they didn’t like how some things came out.
I started to record all my interviews – few as they might have been, and then transcribe them using a transcription service on my Mac computer.
But, for quite some time I had refrained from conducting any interviews. Then I was contacted by someone at the Jewish Post office in the Gwen Secter Centre who told me there was a very nice woman who was going to be visiting Winnipeg soon – and this particular woman thought that I might have an interest in interviewing her.
I was told that her name was Francine Kurlandski. “Why does that name sound so familiar?” I wondered to myself. With my curiosity whetted I phoned the number Francine had left with the Jewish Post and said to her, when she answered the phone, that her name was very familiar to me, but I couldn’t quite place her.
Francine answered: “Don’t you remember? I used to write a recipe column for the Jewish Post?”
It all came back. Of course, now I remembered, but didn’t Francine also have another name when she used to write for us? I asked.
“Yes, I was Francine Teller to start. Then, when I got remarried, I started using my new married name – Kurlandski.”
“But most of my friends in Winnipeg will remember me for my maiden name, which was Wise,” Francine added.
The daughter of Marion and Israel Wise and sister to Elaine, Francine, who was born in 1957, said she grew up in River Heights – at 756 Lanark to be specific. She attended, in order: John Dafoe, J. B . Mitchell, and then Grant Park.

Along the way, when she was 17 years old, Francine was also Miss Israel for the Israel Pavilion at Folklorama.

Francine had told me prior to the interview that her first career was as a nurse, so I asked her whether she had long had a desire to study nursing. Initially, she was unsure, but she says she “inherited the caring feeling that is so instrumental in nursing” from her father.
Israel Wise had a degree in social work, Francine said, and “worked for the province helping Indigenous people.” In addition, “he was also the youth director at the Shaarey ZedeK Synagouge and president of the General Monash branch of the Canadian Legion for veterans.” Francine’s mother, who worked for Technion Canada “also had a social service bent, so nursing was a natural fit,” Francine suggested.

Still, before eventually entering the Misericordia School of Nursing, Francine said her first love was art, a talent she now says “lay latent within her. “She recalls going downtown on weekends: “I remember going to the stores that had sold these little tiny beads – and that was so popular then. And I got into making beaded and feather necklaces.

“And then that led me into teaching myself how to do macrame, needle point and knitting. So, I loved all those crafty things. My parents had a cottage at Gimli. I remember loving to draw, and would go into the dock and sketch the boats and the birds. I loved all that.”

But, aside from her love of art, Francine found that enrolling in nursing school was a perfect fit for her. She remained a nurse until quite recently.
Francine was married at what we would now consider a very early age, when she was only 21. When she was 23 she and her then then husband moved to Toronto where Francine began “painting suede kippas with Sesame Street characters, also Ghostbusters, and I sold them to a couple of Jewish bookstores here.”
She began to study watercolouring in earnest, inspired, she said, by a trip she took to Israel where she saw the artists’ colony in Safed.

Francine noted that “once my children were in their teens, I had time to explore my painting. And that’s when I started a painting course from the city of. Toronto. I also connected with a group of artists in North York, and to this day, I belong to the Toronto Watercolor Society where I got to meet like-minded artists.”
Francine said she just recently retired from nursing after 45 years. The last 20 years of her career, she said, were spent working for another former Winnipegger, Dr. Rochelle Schwartz.

The mother of three sons, Francine explained that her home could be described as modern Orthodox. All three of her sons had the opportunity to study in Israel, she noted. Two of them studied at Yeshiva University while another one attended at Touro, in New York.
When the oldest was 18, she said, she took up painting more seriously.

I wondered though, about Francine’s cooking expertise. From where did that come?
“Was your mother a really good cook?” I asked.
“My whole extended family were good cooks, especially my late aunt, Karen Wise,” she answered.
In 1997, Francine noted, hospitals across Canada embarked on a downsizing campaign.
“I was on leave because I had a baby at that time. I really needed to bring in income. So, for extra income. I started to cook from my home… wholesome, nutritious food. I started a vegetarian food business, and did that for four years. And with that food business I thought I could teach cooking lessons, and write recipes for the paper.”

As a sidenote, I said to Francine that I didn’t remember when she actually wrote a cooking column for the Jewish Post, but when I checked our archives, it turned out that it was from 2010-14.
Francine’s food business lasted until 2003, until she began working for Rochelle Schwartz.
It was around that time that Francine started trying to enter some of her paintings in juried art shows. She continued to study art for a certain period with a private art teacher.
“Every course you take as an artist, you learn how to improve,” Francine observed.
“After I experimented with all kinds of different subjects I focused on portraits and Judaica art. I’ve always had a deep interest in the Jewish lifestyle.”
When it came to marketing her paintings though, once again Francine had to ” learn, even to put something on Instagram. It was all baby steps. And you’re doing this all by yourself. You don’t wanna hire someone to do it.”

Francine has had her art exhibited in many of the art society’s exhibitions and is working with Toronto’s United Jewish Appeal for a future showing.
You can imagine the excitement Francine must be feeling. If you want to see samples of Francine’s art you can check out her Instagram page. Just go to Instagram and look for @artistfrancine.

Presented by LIONEL STEIMAN at the Lanny Remis Speakers Forum, May 8, 2025.

One of the questions I wanted to answer in my course on the history of antisemitism was why culturally assimilated European Jews seemed blind to the rising tide of antisemitism during the years in which they had grown up? Of course they didn’t have the benefit of hindsight. They knew of the pogroms, of course, but they were in Russia, not in such sophisticated centres like Vienna, Prague, and Berlin, cities to which Jews from the east had flocked by the thousands, taking advantage of the opportunities offered during the rapid industrialization of the later nineteenth century. In Vienna they would eventually become the propertied and educated elites of the upper middle class. What they underestimated was the danger they faced from masses prone to the appeals of antisemitic demagogues.

The reason was that these Jews were the beneficiaries of what was called “Jewish emancipation,” the removal of age-old restrictions on Jews that had limited what they could do, where they could live, and much more. Emancipation facilitated the admission of Jews to society on terms of equality with other citizens. They were granted the right to vote, freedom of movement, access to education, and other areas from which they had been barred. France was the first country in Europe to emancipate its Jewish population, which it did during the French Revolution. Subsequently, the process of ‘Emancipation’ was launched everywhere in Europe except the Russian Empire, and by the later 19th century was relatively complete.
Emancipation had been the product of the so-called Enlightenment, when philosophers and rulers got the bright idea that Jews, whom they had regarded as scarcely human, would stop being Jews if only they were given an opportunity to be like everyone else. If they were given freedom, the right to vote, and access to other occupations than peddling and money-lending they would lose the negative characteristics associated with Jews. This Jewish ‘character’ was not considered a matter of ‘race’ or ‘blood’, but was seen as a product of the environment in which Jews were forced to live. But behind these novel ideas lay centuries of popular hatred and prejudice rooted in religion and superstition.

So it was almost inevitable that there would be a popular reaction against the emancipation of Jews, and attempts made to roll it back. Jewish entry into areas in which they’d never before been seen made people uneasy, to say the least. And because Jews in western Europe were abandoning their distinctive dress and manner, thus assimilating and becoming indistinguishable from non-Jews, their presence came to be feared all the more. Opponents of emancipation demanded the re-imposition of restraints and restrictions on Jews, many of which dated back centuries. They organized and gave themselves a name intended to distinguish themselves from the religious bigots they scorned. Their “The League of Antisemites”, was founded in 1878 by a journalist by the name of Wilhelm Marr.
The word ‘Antisemite’ was a totally new, totally invented word. But it had a scientific ring to it, as did so much else in this age of scientific progress. Antisemitism dissociated itself from the age-old anti-Jewish prejudices rooted in religion and legend, claiming instead to have a basis in science. The word ‘Semite’ was taken from the field of philology and referred to a grouping of languages, though soon it was referring to a category of people as well. And since Jews were the only “Semites” in Europe, it was they whom anti-Semites opposed. Soon, inflammatory antisemitic publicists and their products proliferated in various countries, most especially in France and Germany, the countries where ‘Emancipation’ had proceeded furthest, and needed to be rolled back. Meanwhile, beneficiaries of Emancipation dismissed antisemitism as a matter for the gutter, or for cynical politicians

The most prominent politician to exploit antisemitism before Hitler was Karl Lueger, the famous mayor of Vienna, who used it to woo the masses. During his tenure from 1897 to 1910, Vienna became the most advanced city in the world: public facilities such as gasworks, public transit, and housing were unmatched anywhere else. And nowhere else in Europe did Jews feel more secure. Lueger was a charming man; with Jewish friends, he was often seen attending Jewish marriages and bar mitzvahs. When the contradiction was pointed out, he replied, “I decide who’s a Jew.” Antisemitism was socially acceptable and taken for granted everywhere. After all, compared to Jews in Russia, with regular pogroms claiming hundreds of lives, Jews in Vienna, Prague, Paris, or Berlin were safe and could relax. They would never have dreamed of joining the hundreds of thousands of Jews fleeing Russia for America every year. In fact, they scorned them, and their Yiddish, which they regarded as a “jargon and not a language at all.

Nothing remotely like the Russian pogroms had occurred in the West since the First Crusade of 1095. Prior to that, the Jews of Europe had enjoyed relative peace and security. And because their value as physicians, merchants, and scholars were prized by rulers, Jews often enjoyed privileges later denied them. So why had everything changed in 1095, with the launch of the first Crusade, the armed campaign to secure recapture the Holy Land from Islam? When Pope Urban II proclaimed the Crusade he made clear there was no act more deserving of heavenly reward than to die on Crusade: to do so was assurance of immediate salvation. But when the first crusaders set out for the Holy Land, they asked themselves: “Why are we going all the way to the Jerusalem to defeat Christ’s Muslim enemies when the Jews who murdered him are right here among us?” So as the armies of French Knights set out for the East, they plundered and massacred age-old Jewish communities en route, and even made significant detours to do so. Some of the Jewish victims believed their suffering heralded the coming of the Messiah. Others thought the Pope had promised a blanket pardon to anyone who killed a Jew. Jews could save themselves by becoming Christian, and some were offered baptism. Such conversions were rare. Far more common was mass ritual suicide, or “Kiddush ha-Shem”, sanctification of the divine name.

Within a century, popular pressures moved the Pope to decide to legislate that Jews everywhere be required to wear some distinguishing mark. Specifics were left to individual countries. France required Jews to wear a yellow patch on their cloaks; Germany required a yellow, cone-shaped hat. To this day, ‘yellow’ has negative connotations, notably that of cowardice. The year of this legislation was 1215: from that point on, Jews are seldom depicted without such insignia, whether in art, sculpture, or other illustrations. This began a process that continued for centuries: the separation of the ‘image’ of the Jew from their human reality. The very word ‘Jew’ became a synonym for various undesirable qualities, triggering repugnance by its very mention.

This separation of the ‘image’ from the individual allowed Jew-hatred to flourish in the absence of Jewish people. In the mid-1970s a student of mine from Sioux Lookout told me that before he came to Winnipeg he thought that “Jew” was simply a word for crooked bargaining. The boy was himself no anti-Semite; he seemed totally open-minded, and eager to learn. I found that people with Jewish friends or a Jewish doctor or other professional could still hold antisemitic views simply because their prejudices were independent of their lived experience. A colleague from a town in the north of England told me that folks there seemed to have three categories of Jews: there were “powerful international Jewish financiers”; there were the Jews in the Bible- the “Israelites”; and there were Jewish shopkeepers, who were well liked but who didn’t affect their prejudices about “the Jews.”

Where did all this begin, this separation of “Jews” from the individual human beings they really were? We have to go back to the very beginning of Christianity, which began as a radical messianic sect of Jews, whose leader, a young rabbi called Jesus, was tried and executed by a Roman court under the authority of the Roman Governor. His followers believed he was the “Messiah” who would transform Israel. Their foremost missionary was Saul of Tarsus, much later known as St. Paul. Although Saul’s original mission was to persecute the followers of Jesus, he underwent a conversion “on the road to Damascus” and joined them. Paul’s sermons and letters became central books in what eventually became the New Testament. Because Greek was the common language of the eastern Mediterranean world, Saul became Paul, and “Messiah” became ‘Christos’. Soon Christians and Jews became ever deeper entrenched in an antagonistic relationship. Christians couldn’t understand why Jews refused to recognize the truth and accept Christ. Either they must be blind, or stupid. Since obviously they were neither, they must be evil. And so in the New Testament’s book of John they are “sons of the devil” and bound to do his work. (John 8:14) During the Holocaust, some people cited the passage from Matthew in which the Jews implicitly confess their guilt for the death of Christ: “His blood be upon us and our children” (Matthew 27:25).

Throughout the centuries that followed, Jews were depicted in various art forms as devil-like creatures, with horns and tails and cloven feet. Sculptures on churches and public places showed Jews with blindfolds signifying they were blind to truth. A particularly popular motif was the so-called “Judensau”, which depicted a rabbi lifting the tail of a huge pig to look for his Talmud, while other Jews gathered beneath the pig to suckle. Variations of the “Judensau” can still be found sculpted in public places in Europe. Then there was the so-called “foetor judaicus.”, the innate stench of the Jewish body. And it only got worse.

The Church Fathers who laid the theological and pastoral foundations of Christianity defined Jews as a threat to the moral and political foundations of Christendom, just as they were a threat to the soul of every individual Christian. Some Church Fathers accused Jews of killing Christ, thus making all Jews thereafter guilty of the crime of “Deicide”, killing God! Scores of other accusations against Jews proliferated. The logic was simple: for if you would kill the Savior, what else wouldn’t you do? Soon Jews were being accused of all manner of outlandish crimes: spreading plague by poisoning wells; killing Jewish children to use their blood in baking matzoh; and even drinking Jewish blood in their rituals. If you would believe what was patently impossible- since drinking blood was taboo for Jews, what wouldn’t you believe? And thus, reasoned one prominent historian of antisemitism, the road to Auschwitz was begun over a thousand years ago.

Incidentally, the last “blood libel” trial was held in Kiev (then in the Russian Empire) Russia in 1913. The verdict was ambiguous: yes, the crime had indeed been committed, but the accused, Mendel Beilis, was not the murderer. Although both sides could claim victory, the trial helped perpetuate the myth of ritual murder: the killing of a Jewish child to use its blood to bake matzoh.
But if the “road to Auschwitz” was begun a thousand years ago, why wasn’t the attempt to exterminate Jewry also begun a thousand years ago? After all, in the 4th century C.E. Christianity became the official religion of the Roman Empire; the Romans made life difficult for Jews but made no attempt to kill them all. Why not? The answer lies with the greatest of the Church Fathers, St. Augustine (354-430). It is true, he wrote, that the Jews are guilty of the crime of Deicide, of killing the Savior. So they should be persecuted, but not too much; and they must be made to suffer, but not too much. And they should not live near Christians. Their suffering and eternal “wandering” would be proof of their guilt; and they would be living (if unwilling) witnesses to the truth of the Christian faith. This idea was repeated in variations by subsequent Popes, who in any case held out the possibility that Jews could avoid all this by converting. The Jewish communities of Europe, despite some ups and downs, were able to live relatively peaceful lives. Theirs was not an unbroken tale of suffering. But the myths, legends, and lies about them remained.

The attack on this hateful tradition began in the 18th century, the age of Enlightenment. The absurd notions of Jews having horns or drinking Christian blood now seemed out of place. Philosophers and intellectuals attacked all manner of superstitions including those that appeared to support Christianity. In attacking the Church these thinkers also attacked its beliefs that justified Jew-hatred. The further decline of religion in subsequent centuries occasioned by the rising prestige of science might have resulted in a decline of anti-Jewish prejudice, but instead the whole cluster of prejudice and superstition only found a more secure foundation in science.
Of course the word ‘science’ here must be qualified, for in the 19th and even part of the 20th centuries “science” included craniology, physiognomy, and eugenics. Today they are regarded as pseudo-sciences and historical curiosities, but prior to World War II they enjoyed a respect like that accorded to physics or any other exact science. Everywhere, “race” was accepted as a valid category for defining human groups, though its analytical usefulness was increasingly questioned until the term itself was discarded. By the 1880s Europe had completed its ranking of the world’s so-called “races” along a sliding scale. White, northern Europeans topped the list, which ranked other inhabitants according to skin colour, head-shape, physiognomy, and other physical characteristics, all of which were believed to denote the intellectual and moral qualities indicating a group’s level of ‘civilization. So where did Jews fit in? At first they were ranked simply as a sub-group of Europeans; one theory even had them at the apex of the white race; but antisemites attempted to find a scientific basis for excluding them. Since the Middle Ages, as was pointed out, Jews were believed to have a distinctly unpleasant odor, so there must be a scientific basis for it; but none was found. Researchers fanned out over Europe measuring skulls, noses, and other physical features thought to distinguish Jews from other white people. Was there a typical ‘Jewish nose’? One survey found the so-called Jewish nose was most prevalent in the Polish nobility. Research found no support for the popular belief that Jews were dark while gentiles were fair. Regional variations were such that many different ‘races existed within any given country. Wider research showed that Jews tended to resemble the populations in whose midst they resided.

In today’s “post-Truth” era we know too well that dangerous beliefs can persist despite overwhelming evidence against them. This is what happened with the cluster of beliefs encompassed in the term ‘antisemitism.’. The failure of science to support antisemitism or the notion of “race” did not stop people from believing that it did. Others recognized that science could provide little support to prejudice, so antisemites shifted their ground again: the essence of race, they argued, was in the blood—not in its physical elements but in elements which could not be measured, and whose power was therefore all the greater. By thus elevating ‘race’ to the level of ‘mystery’ late 19th century racists were merging prejudices based on religion with the emerging force of nationalism based on “race.” To the ancient belief that Jews were the enemies of Christ was added the modern belief that they posed a threat to the nation. Thus religious and racial antisemitism were strengthened by the most powerful political force ever to emerge, modern nationalism. And because Jews were a threat to race, which was the biological foundation of the nation, they were enemies of the state.

The political force of this antisemitism showed itself in 1897 with the election of Karl Lueger as mayor of Vienna, who was mentioned earlier. The antisemitism that was such a powerful force in central Europe also ignited the worst political crisis in France since the French Revolution, the Dreyfus Affair. Raging at the very time Lueger was making Vienna the most advanced city in Europe, the Dreyfus Affair threatened to destroy the French Republic. Spreading far beyond the issue of the guilt or innocence of Alfred Dreyfus, the Jewish officer charged with treason, it polarized the nation between supporters of the Republic, and those who would restore the pillars of the old order: Monarchy, Church, and Aristocracy.
With the spread of industrialism and its threat to agrarian and village life, there was a heightened urgency to demands that the influence of Jews be curbed. The prominent role of Jews in finance capital and speculation earned them blame for the scandals and crashes that dogged the era. Jewish prominence in the free professions of medicine, law, journalism and publishing all increased Jewish vulnerability to various charges of malfeasance. Add to this the persistence of the blood libel, and public depiction of Jews as pigs, goats, and devils; the stereotypes of greedy, conniving Jews proliferating in literature and fairy tales everywhere—the list goes on and on. The reality is that antisemitism had come to permeate the intellectual and cultural life of Europe. Its assumptions were widely shared across the political spectrum; general distaste for Jews was fashionable in high society; blatant antisemitism was articulated at all levels of culture, and freely expressed from church pulpits and in parliaments- including those of Canada.

But what was it about antisemitism in Germany that made the country ripe for a rabidly obsessive anti-Semite like Adolf Hitler? Israel’s most respected Holocaust historian once commented: “If people had been told in 1914 that within one generation most of the Jews of Europe would be murdered, their answer would most certainly have been: The French are capable of any crime.” The reason for this comment was that France was by far the most prolific producer and disseminator of antisemitic literature, purveyed by some of its most respected writers and intellectuals across the political spectrum; it was the home of repeated outbursts of vicious Jew-hatred, most notorious of which was the Dreyfus Affair, the likes of which had never been seen in Germany. The name Edouard-Adolphe Drumont (1844-1917) is synonymous with French antisemitism. In 1886 he published La France Juive. Its Index listed not only prominent Jews but all prominent figures having anything to do with Jews, implicating thousands in what many already believed was an inevitable national degeneration. Drumont provided a list of “hidden Jews” who had been masquerading as Frenchmen. Since antisemitism permeated every element of French culture and politics, there was no need for a specifically anti-Semitic party or movement. Antisemitism was simply a constant in culture and society.

Germany was considered the safest country in Europe for Jews, and although antisemitism was certainly widespread, it hadn’t occasioned significant violence there since the revolutionary upheavals of 1848. So what happened? Why was the Holocaust “Made in Germany”? The answer is Adolf Hitler. There is a consensus amongst many historians: “No Hitler, No Holocaust.” Antisemitism was a necessary cause of the Holocaust, but it was not a sufficient cause. The Nazis were an insignificant bubble in the froth of discontent, for which people commonly blamed the Jews. In the years following World War I, Antisemitism was common currency in political discourse all over Europe. For Hitler, communism and capitalism were both Jewish conspiracies, and the major figures in both were all of them Jews, whether in Moscow or New York. During the 1920s, support for the Communists and Nazis grew, especially during the Great Depression. In 1932, 30% of the German labour force were unemployed, compared to 22.5% in the US and 24% in Canada. Even so, the Nazi victory was not inevitable. In late 1932 the party’s electoral support was declining. There were several other options available, and yet President Hindenburg chose to appoint Hitler Chancellor.
Hitler’s subsequent dismantling of German democracy is part of a complex political story involving far more than the antisemitism which was common everywhere. In any case, Hitler’s genocidal hatred of Jews was not wholly representative. Antisemites may have desired the exclusion of Jews, but not the annihilation of the Jewish people. While Hitler’s murderous fantasies were exceptional, he was able to gain control over the entire state apparatus necessary to realize them. And however extreme his views, their individual elements were available and accessible throughout the Christian West. Everywhere in Europe, the Nazis found accomplices in murder because their victims were Jews, everywhere the historical ‘other’. The Holocaust was the product of a pervasive antisemitism that, in the Nazi mind, placed the Jewish people outside the bounds of humanity, and marked them for extinction.

La vie se rétracte ou se dilate à proportion de notre courage.

Anaïs Nin (1903 – 1977)

By Dr. DAVID HOULT Israel has come of age among the nations of the world. After almost two thousand years of yearning, it can now join the ranks of those that ply power and pain. It is an odd conceit for most of us, for we imbibed so thoroughly from childhood the notions of Jewish vulnerability, suffering and solidarity, the need for self-sufficiency and circling the wagons when attacked. The foundation of a Jewish state came as the Great Hope, a shining star, the salvation from the wreckage of the Holocaust: a Jewish liberal democracy with a military having sterling and stirring ideals standing alone in a rough Middle-East neighbourhood. It appeared to many to be a miracle, and Judaism intertwined with Zionism and state to create a pinnacle of pride and pilgrimage – a tool of God to promote Their divine scheme, and to initiate the return of the Jews to the land They promised to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.

But now, many of us are troubled. We fear deep down that Israel has gone astray, but are scared to confront the possibility, scared to give The Enemy ammunition if we say anything. So in our pain, we punish those who give even a hint of voicing dissent and fall back on our conceit. We defiantly, and somewhat desperately, have declarations of loyalty and synagogue security committees to keep traitors and Enemies out of our holy places, continue to sing Hatikvah, pray for the IDF and are hyper-vigilant for any sign of anti-Semitism. Underneath though, the stress born of dichotomy grows as we watch the apocalypse that is Gaza, massive demonstrations in Tel Aviv, Jew attacking Jew in Ra’anana, and settlers in the West Bank strutting, scaring, slinging stones and even slaying.

Politically, the seeds of our distress can be traced back over a hundred years to the Balfour Declaration. Based on the anti-Semitic assumption that Jews had great financial clout, it was one long, carefully crafted, vague and contradictory sentence (67 words) designed to enhance British influence in the Middle East. Zionists seized upon the ambiguous phrase “national home for the Jewish people” but carefully ignored the clause “… it being clearly understood that nothing shall be done which may prejudice the civil and religious rights of existing non-Jewish communities in Palestine …”. (Notably, nothing about political rights was included.) Soon, even President Roosevelt was declaring that “Palestine must be made a Jewish State”. Unsurprisingly, there was vocal opposition from most of the local inhabitants (over 90% Arab) and the situation quickly proved untenable. One British historian¹ has declared that “measured by British interests alone, [the declaration was] one of the greatest mistakes in [its] imperial history.”

When the British threw up their hands and withdrew from Palestine, the United Nations proposed a partition of the land; the Arab League strongly objected and when the State of Israel was declared in 1948, as every Jewish child knows, the War of Independence began. But by the end of the war, Israel had triumphed; it held about 78% of Palestine and about 750,000 inhabitants had become refugees, a figure confirmed by many Israeli historians. Notwithstanding the details of how they had been exiled, they were not allowed to return. They were scapegoats sent into the wilderness for the sins of the Germans, and it is this refusal that laid the essential foundation of ethnic Jewish statehood – a Jewish majority. And that majority increased: by 1951, the population of Israel was expanded by the immigration of 700,000 Jews, some, ironically, expelled from Arab states in retaliation, thereby enhancing the ethnic imbalance.

I once asked a Palestinian attendee at the Nobel Prize ceremonies in Stockholm for how long her people would try to get their homes and land back and her bitter response was “For ever!” My response was “A bit like we Jews.” But stop for a moment of empathy. In the Talmud, Hillel says: “Don’t do to your neighbour what you wouldn’t have him do to you.” Those 750,000 people suffered the same fate as many Jews under the Romans, traumatised and wretched, filled with hate, anger and despair. But it was war and those sort of rules don’t apply, do they? Do they? For in the aftermath of the Holocaust, Jews were in no mood for the niceties of Torah compassion and empathy: a Jewish state was desperately needed. So what if we didn’t let them back in? Their leaders collaborated with the Nazis, didn’t they? And so the seeds of catastrophe were planted.

If we fast forward, thanks to further wars instigated and lost by the Arabs, Israel now controls almost the whole of what was once Palestine. However, notwithstanding the further exodus of refugees (numbers vary), Jews are no longer in the majority and the presence of so many Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza represents a huge obstacle to the re-creation of “the promised land”. This is a problem that many in their heart of hearts would love to see go away – but how? By fair means or foul?

Thus we come to the latest attempt to punish Israel which, I believe, is succeeding beyond Hamas’s wildest dreams. Why do I say that? Because Israel’s reaction to Hamas’s attack can be shown to violate its own historical and religious ethics and guidelines for the conduct of war. It places itself, by its own standards, firmly in the wrong and as a result, the nation is tearing itself apart and taking the Diaspora with it. To take just one example, from the Rambam²:

“When a siege is placed around a city to conquer it, it should not be surrounded on all four sides, only on three. A place should be left for the inhabitants to flee and for all those who desire, to escape with their lives.” Or how about the next verse: “We should not cut down fruit trees outside a city nor prevent an irrigation ditch from bringing water to them so that they dry up”? In other words, confinement and starvation are out as tactics of war for Jews.

There is, however, a far more basic, ancient and raw imperative, and that is lex talionis: “An eye for an eye …”. It is found in several places in Torah and also in the earlier Code of Hammurabi. (If you are ever in Paris, do see the stunning Hammurabi stele in the Louvre.) The Pharisees maintained that this law was not to be taken literally and referred to appropriate financial compensation. However, let us be gruesome and take it literally. On one side of the scales of justice we have the killing by Hamas of 1,195 people, the taking of 250 hostages, dozens of rapes and sexual assaults and immeasurable anguish, trauma and misery. What shall we place on the other side of the scale? Let us start with the report by the Associated Press that somewhere between three to four thousand Gazan children have suffered amputations, sometimes without anaesthetics. Meanwhile, the Gazan Health Ministry has released the names of 5,000 children under the age of six who have been killed. Are children The Enemy? We must also add to the balance the thousands of adults who have died and the hundreds of thousands suffering without shelter. We are commanded in the Torah “Justice, justice you shall pursue”. Even if the numbers are exaggerated, is the maiming and killing of children justice? What a wonderful way to create a new generation of terrorists thirsting for revenge!

There are those who claim that the Palestinians are part of the seven biblical nations that Joshua was commanded to wipe out. However, this claim was put to rest as long ago as 100 CE when Rabbi Yehoshua declared that the “seven nations” were no longer identifiable.

Inconveniently, David Ben-Gurion and Yitzhak Ben-Zvi, in a book published in 1918³, even believed that the Palestinian peasant population (fellahin) was descended from the ancient biblical Hebrews, and there is some genetic evidence to support this position. Nevertheless, in 2007, Mordechai Eliyahu, the former Sephardi Chief Rabbi of Israel wrote in a letter to Prime Minister Olmert that⁴ “an entire city holds collective responsibility for the immoral behavior of individuals. In Gaza, the entire populace is responsible because they do nothing to stop the firing of Kassam rockets.”. His son, the chief rabbi of Safed, wrote: “If they don’t stop after we kill 100, then we must kill a thousand. And if they do not stop after 1,000 then we must kill 10,000. If they still don’t stop we must kill 100,000, even a million. Whatever it takes to make them stop.” Only now, however, have a few Gazans had the great courage to protest Hamas, an organisation that in the past has attacked, abducted, tortured and murdered those who stand up to them, including members of the Palestinian Authority⁵. Would you or I risk torture and death to confront such rulers? I doubt I would have the courage. Would you? Thus does evil ever flourish.

Let us be clear: Gaza is controlled by a vicious fundamentalist movement that in its charter calls for the destruction of Israel. But the more the Gazans are carpet bombed and killed, the more Hamas will gain supporters – young men who have seen mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers and cousins maimed and dismembered and want revenge. Quite apart from questions of morality, the annihilation is just plain dumb!

As the years of this century pass, how shall we possibly believe a new “promised land” could materialise? It would take a new Sodom and Gomorrah. The Arab states have learnt their collective lessons regarding military force and Israel is now Goliath to their slingless David. So, unless Israel feigns weakness (and notwithstanding Iran), it is highly unlikely that a new war will arise to give a pretext for expelling millions from the West Bank. Instead, harassment seems to be the method du jour as new settlements are built, land is appropriated and people are slowly forced into cities and refugee camps, or to other countries such as Canada – to Winnipeg, even. Of course Ben-Gurion’s “peasants” are going to strike back! Is harassment an honourable tactic? Is this loving one’s neighbour as oneself? Ah, but they aren’t neighbours you see, they are The Enemy, for they ambush innocent people and kill pregnant women⁶. Thus does evil ever flourish.

So here, in a distant country, we sit and watch, a community torn in two. Where do our loyalties lie? As you may have gathered from my quotations, I am a religious Jew who believes that our ethics must be derived from Torah and Talmud. I am a member of a synagogue, but a synagogue that refuses to admit anyone who is perceived to be The Enemy, and a member of a community that states “With Israel, For Israel. Always.” Where do my loyalties lie? Where should they lie? For me, there can no doubt – unequivocally with a Higher Authority, an Authority that demands at the pinnacle of Torah, slap dab in its middle, that I must love my neighbour as myself. That means gently arguing with the racist down the street, having kind words for the Indigenous family pushing back against subtle discrimination and trying to console the Palestinian who is mourning the death of his nephew in Gaza. But there is more.

The Talmud tells us⁷: “If (anyone) is in a position to protest the sinful conduct of the people of his town, and he fails to do so, he is apprehended for the sins of the people of his town. If he is in a position to protest the sinful conduct of the whole world, and he fails to do so, he is apprehended for the sins of the whole world.” Thus I protest the actions of my synagogue in keeping people out, I protest the actions of my community and I protest the actions of Israel because it is part of this world and it is sinning. It really is that simple – see wrong, protest, for God’s sake (literally), rather than keeping quiet and putting support for Israel first. Torah has an old-fashioned word for such misguided loyalties – idolatry. To quote Abraham Joshua Heschel: “God is not nice. God is not an uncle. God is an earthquake” that shakes us out of our complacency and challenges us first and foremost to reason – to think and analyse, not just feel, using Torah as our guide.

But there is yet more, and it is something we can do in Winnipeg. The same Talmud also states⁸: “Who is richest of all, …. Some say: One who can turn an enemy into his friend.” And how does one do that? Surely, there can only be one way to begin: by talking – by talking with The Enemy right here in town with empathy for their suffering. That means striving not to be ruled by fear, but taking one’s courage in both hands, being prepared to be made very uncomfortable, to confront other people’s truths. I do not have to agree, I do not have to like it, but I do have to listen. And one day, just possibly, there might be areas of agreement, even friendship, where the seeds of reconciliation are irrigated and can grow and bear fruit, for if God is prepared to reason with us (Isaiah 1, 18), surely we can reason with one another? Can’t we?

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David Hoult, a physicist who is one of the original developers of the MRI, is the recipient of numerous awards, including the community’s Shem Tov award for his work in helping secure kashrut in the city. He lives in Winnipeg with his wife and children.

1 Monroe, E. Britain’s Moment in the Middle East, 1914–1971. Johns Hopkins University Press (1981).

2² Mishneh Torah, Kings and Wars 6

3³ Erets yisroel in fargangenheyt un gegenvart: geografye, geshikhte, rekhtlekhe ferheltnise, bafelkerung, landvirtshaft, handl un industri (The land of Israel past and present: geography, history, legal circumstances, population, agriculture, business, and industry), with three maps of the country and eighty pictures of Israel (New York, 1918),

Hebrew translation, 1980, pp. 196–200 (in Hebrew).

4⁴ Wagner M., Jerusalem Post, May 30th, 2007.

5⁵ https://www.amnesty.org/en/latest/news/2015/05/gaza-palestinians-tortured-summarily-killed-by-hamas-forces-during-2014-conflict/

6⁶ https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/cvgq89yd7p7o

7⁷ Shabbat 54b, 20

8⁸ Avot d’Rabbi Natan 23