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The World in 2025 May Become an Even Darker Place

Bari Weiss

By HENRY SREBRNIK On November 12, the former New York Times journalist Bari Weiss, did a brave thing. Speaking to the annual conference of the General Assembly of the Jewish Federations of North America, in Washington, DC, she didn’t provide uplifting words or an assurance that things will somehow get better.

She is the founder of the Free Press newspaper – “for free people,” as its masthead states – and has been courageously fighting against the antisemitic tide that has enveloped the Western world since October 7, 2023. I can do no better than to quote her opening statement:

“When did you know? 

“Looking back, now that we are on the far side, I wonder: When did you realize that things had changed? 

“When did you know that the things we had taken for granted were suddenly out of our reach? That the norms that felt as certain as gravity had disappeared? That the institutions that had launched our grandparents had turned hostile to our children? 

“When did you notice that what had once been steady was now shaky ground? Did you look down to see if your own knees were trembling?

“When did you realize that we were not immune from history, but living inside of it? 

“When did you see that our world was actually the world of yesterday — and a new one, one with far fewer certainties, one where everything seems up for grabs, was coming into being?”

How well we now realize that it applies even more so, in Canada, where a veritable chasm has opened up, as in a horror movie, and it is filled with antisemites as vicious as rarely before seen in this country.

Since October 7, 2023, all levels of government in Canada have failed, either by design or due to incompetence, to understand and act on the gravity of the moment.

Those on the front lines already feel it. Jewish students at the University of British Columbia this past summer hung posters throughout campus that read: “I am a Jew. I hide my identity because I feel threatened and unsafe,” and “Stop terrorizing Jews.” No police chief instructed them to hide; Jewish students could detect the tenor and a mounting risk of violence on campus. 

And it keeps getting worse. Dawson College in Montreal shut down classes for almost 10,000 students on November 21 after students voted 447-247 in favour of a strike to demonstrate solidarity with Gaza. The closure of the public college was prompted by numerous emails and calls from members of the community expressing concerns about the safety of students and employees on the day of the boycott.

Demonstrators gathered outside Dawson’s campus and left after an hour, marching east to Concordia University, where they met up with more strikers. Concordia had a phalanx of security guards manning the doors, police officers inside the lobby and large panels of plywood on the inside of their windows. Dozens of other student associations voted to strike. At McGill, activists planted a tree in solidarity with Palestinians.

There were several protests a day later, including one at Université du Québec à Montréal. An effigy of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu was set on fire and smoke bombs were lit as demonstrators chanted “Free Palestine” and “Israel is terrorist, Canada is complicit.” Rioters that evening clashed with police officers, smashed windows of businesses, and even set vehicles ablaze in the downtown area. 

How has all this come about? We must face facts: Canada in recent decades adopted a policy of unfettered and incautious immigration, and with it have come some immigrants who are steeped in antisemitic values. We now realize that, in our big cities, they have changed the very nature of Canadian society. They have not adapted to liberal western values. Rather the reverse: they are bending this country towards theirs – to the detriment of Canada’s Jewish population. The examples are many, and they would have been beyond belief a mere decade ago. 

A vigil that was scheduled to be held in Mississauga, Ont., November 26 in memory of “the great Martyr” Yahya Sinwar –the Hamas leader responsible for the Oct. 7 attack on Israel — did not, after numerous complains, occur on the originally scheduled date. A flyer for the event, which was shared on social media, used the slogan, “Lest we forget our heroes,” and red poppies on top of a black and white photo of the architect of October 7.

However, the city’s mayor, a onetime Liberal MP, had no problems with it, even comparing Sinwar to Nelson Mandela. “I just want to point out, and I’m not being facetious, Nelson Mandela was declared a terrorist by the United States of America until the year 2008,” Carolyn Parrish stated. “Your terrorist and somebody else’s terrorist may be two different things.” Not surprisingly, anti-Israel rallies are almost a weekly occurrence in her city.

An Ottawa school played an Arabic-language Palestinian protest song associated with fighting in Gaza as the soundtrack to its Remembrance Day presentation, causing outrage and distress for some students and parents. Principal Aaron Hobbs of Sir Robert Borden School defended the selection, saying it was chosen to bring diversity and inclusion to Remembrance Day.

Speaking of Remembrance Day, the New Democratic Party, which was once led by David Lewis, a Jew, and supported by many in the Jewish community, is now completely supportive of the Palestinian cause. Edmonton NDP MP Heather McPherson, one of the most vocally anti-Israel members of the House of Commons, had just delivered a statement accusing Israel of genocide, compared her wearing of a watermelon pin to the wearing of a Remembrance Day poppy. The watermelon slice has been adopted by the anti-Israel movement as representative of the Palestinian flag because it has the same colour scheme, of black, red and green. “I stand here proudly wearing a pin that shows that I stand in solidarity with the Palestinian people,” she stated.

The University of Victoria in British Columbia cancelled a scheduled November 24 on-campus talk by an extremist preacher who is on record calling for the annihilation of Jews. Invited by the Muslim Students Association, one of the central organizers of anti-Israel rallies outside the B.C. Parliament Buildings, the event was widely criticized on local forums, forcing the university to decline the booking request for the event. 

Sheikh Younus Kathrada himself blamed the cancellation “on a Zionist run organization which is clearly pro-ethnic cleansing, pro-genocide, pro-apartheid and pro-murder.”

Meanwhile, Canada finally listed the pro-Palestinian group Samidoun, based in Vancouver, as a terrorist entity October 15, after endless hesitation. Known as the Palestinian Prisoner Solidarity Network, it has close links with and advances the interests of another group that Canada already lists as a terrorist entity, the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine.

Vancouver police launched a criminal investigation into a rally Samidoun organized on the one-year anniversary of the Hamas attack on Israel, which included a masked speaker who told the crowd that “we are Hezbollah and we are Hamas.” She also led cries of “death to Canada, death to the United States and death to Israel.” More recently, the home of Charlotte Kates, a director of Samidoun, was searched by the police.

Behind much of this we find a web of more than 100 anti-Israel organizations operating in Canada, according to a recent study by NGO Monitor, and nearly all of them overlap in activity and funding.

 “The NGO Network Driving Antisemitism in Canada” was released on November 4. It highlights the structure and dynamics of the NGO network. The “dangerous spike” in Jew-hatred is concurrent with “an increase in activity by an interconnected and coordinated network of NGOs, whose campaigns of anti-Israel demonization, antisemitism and intimidation create a hostile environment throughout Canada,” the report declared. “A number of the leading groups are linked to Palestinian terror organizations and hide their sources of funding.”

Despite their small numbers, campus-operating organizations play a prominent role in the network, collaborating with many nonprofits, including those receiving funding from the Canadian government. These groups were “leading the campaigns, the attacks, the antisemitism on university campuses within Canada, and are closely interrelated,” according to Gerald Steinberg, president of NGO Monitor.

To top all this off, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau defended his assertion that he would support the arrest of Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu and ex-Israeli defence minister Yaov Gallant on an International Criminal Court warrant issued on November 23 should they come to Canada. The court stated that there were “reasonable grounds” to believe that the two intentionally targeted civilians in Gaza during Israel’s ongoing retaliatory war against Hamas. This is the first time that a democratic country, with a robust and independent judiciary, has had arrest warrants issued for its leadership. It is international lawfare in its most extreme form, and a reward for terrorism.

I could go on ad infinitum with other examples, but the bottom line is this: Everything I just described would have seemed unimaginable. Had you predicted it, you would have been laughed at or seen as a doomsayer. 

But, as Bari Weiss knows, and so should the rest of us, we are in the midst of a  worldwide eruption of antisemitism not seen since the Holocaust. And there’s no sign it’s going to get better.

Henry Srebrnik is a professor of political science at the University of Prince Edward Island.

Features

I Speak “Jew”

Morrocan Jewish fish dish

By MARK E. PAULL I grew up in Montreal. Born in 1956. Anglo by birth, sure. But that never quite fit. I don’t speak “Anglo” the way they mean it. My real language is Jew.
And I don’t mean Hebrew or Yiddish. I mean the language of reading the room before you enter it. The code-switching, shame-dodging, laugh-first-so-they-don’t-pounce dialect we pick up early. It’s a language built on side-eyes and timing and ten generations of tension.
I speak French—enough to make myself understood. Enough to charm a dinner table, crack a joke, get someone’s uncle to nod. I’m not fluent, but I’m fast. Doesn’t matter. In Quebec, language isn’t grammar—it’s inheritance. It’s who your grandfather cursed out in a hardware store.
To the Francophones, I’ll never be one of them. My accent betrays me before I say a word. I’m just an Anglo. And not even that, really. Because when the lens tightens, when they look closely, I’m just un Juif. Just a Jew.
And to the Anglos? Same thing. I can wear the suit, speak the Queen’s English, order the wine properly—still a Jew. Even in rooms where I “pass,” I don’t belong. I’m not invited in to be myself. I’m invited in to behave. To be safe. To not say the thing that makes the air stiff.
We’re the only people still called by our religion. No one says “Orthodox” for a Greek. No one says “Vatican” for an Italian. No one calls a Black man “Baptist” before they see his face. But “Jew”? That sticks. That’s the label. Before passport. Before language. Before hello.
I’ve mostly made peace with that. But there’s still this ache—knowing you can live your whole life in a place and never really be from there.
Let me tell you a story.
We had this block party once—the folding-table, paper-plate kind. Kids zipping by on scooters. Music low. Everyone asked to bring something from “your culture.”
The Greek guy brought lemon potatoes and lamb—felt like it came with a side of Byzantine history. The Italians brought two lasagnas—meat and veggie—with basil placed like confetti. The Vietnamese couple brought shrimp rolls that vanished before they hit the table. Even the German guy—built like a fridge—brought bratwurst and a six-pack with gothic lettering.
And then us.
My partner made Moroccan fish. Her grandmother’s recipe. Red with tomatoes, garlic, cumin. Studded with olives and preserved lemon. I brought a bottle of white wine. Dry. Crisp. From the Golan Heights. Not Manischewitz. Not even close.
We laid it out. Someone leaned over: “Moroccan? But I thought you were Jewish.”
We smiled. “We are.”
Then: “So… where’s the brisket? Isn’t Jewish wine supposed to be sweet?”
That’s when it hits you. No matter how long you’ve lived here, how many snowstorms you’ve shoveled through, you’re still explaining yourself. Still translating your presence.
Because they don’t know. They don’t know Jews came from everywhere. That “Jewish” isn’t one dish—it’s a whole map. That we had Jews in Morocco before there was even a France. That some of us grew up on kreplach, some on kefta. That some of our mothers sang in Yiddish, others in Arabic, and some in both—depending on who was knocking.
They don’t know. And worse—they don’t ask.
And that’s the part that gets you. Not the slurs. Not the graffiti. Not even the occasional muttered cliché. It’s the blankness. The shrug. The image they already have of you that’s built out of dreidels and sitcoms.
“Jewish” as nostalgic. As novelty. Something they saw once on a bagel.
Sometimes, when those questions come, I float. One version of me walks out. Another turns into a mouse. One turns into a Frisbee. Just gone. Not mad. Just tired.
Because being a Jew isn’t cute. It’s not nostalgic.
It’s ancient.
Before Montreal.
Before France.
Before Poland. Before Spain.
Before pogroms.
Before ghettos.
Before Hitler.
Before even the word Europe.
We were there.
Go back to the 5th century. 2nd century.
Go back to Jesus—our kid, by the way.
Go further—Babylon. Persia.
Keep going—Temple. Exile. Wandering.
And still, after all that, I’m at a table in Quebec explaining why our fish has cumin in it.
It’s almost funny. If it didn’t wear you down a little.
I’m not looking for pity. This isn’t a complaint.
I’m proud. I know what I carry. I walk into any room with five thousand years behind me. I come from people who kept the lights on through every kind of darkness—and laughed through it, too.
But sometimes, I just wish I didn’t have to explain so much.
All I want is to put down my dish…
…and hear someone say:
“That smells amazing. Tell me the story.”

That’s all.


Mark E. Paull, C.A.C. is a Certified ADHD Coach – IPHM, CMA, IIC&M, CPD Certified
Writer | Lived-Experience Advocate | Type 1 Diabetic since 1967

He has been published in:
The New York Times, The Globe and Mail, Folklife Magazine, Times of Israel, CHADD’s Attention Magazine, The Good Men Project

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Features

At 104, Besse Gurevich last original resident of Shaftesbury Park Retirement Residence

By MYRON LOVE At 104, Besse Gurevich is the last of the original residents of Shaftesbury Park Retirement Residence. She may also be the oldest member of our Jewish community.
Although her vision and her hearing have diminished considerably, her mind and memory are still intact.  A few weeks back, this writer sat down with her in her suite as she recalled a life filled with highs and lows and her many  contributions to her community, both in Winnipeg and Fort William before that.
The daughter of Jack and Rebecca Avit, her life’s journey began in 1921 in a home on Carlton Street near Ellice Avenue, near her father’s furniture store.  He later operated a cap factory.
When she was ten, the family – she had two brothers and a sister – moved to Manitoba Avenue in the old North End. “My father had put a deposit down on a house on Scotia,” she recalls.  “But my parents didn’t feel that the neighbourhood was Jewish enough.”
Her schooling included Peretz School and, like so many of her generation, St. John’s Tech (as it was known back then.)  “I was actually supposed to be going to Isaac Newton for high school,” she says.  We were living on the wrong side of the tracks for St. John’s.  After one day at Isaac Newton, I found a way to transfer to St. John’s.”
In 1940, 19-year-old Bessie Avit married Jack Gurevich, a young man from Fort William.  The wedding was marred though, by the sudden, untimely passing of her father.
Following the wedding, Besse moved with her new husband to Fort William where Jack Gurevich worked in retail clothing sales.  “We lived in Fort William for 20 years,” she says.  “Our three children (Judy, Richard and Howard) were born there.”
She recalls that there were about 200 Jewish families – including her sister and one of her brothers for some years – in town, during the time she lived there. “We were very well known in the community,” she recalls. “I was involved in everything.”
Her community activism continued after the family’s return to her home town. While Jack went to work as a salesman for Western Glove Works, Besse became an indefatigable community volunteer. At one time or another, she served as vice-president of ORT, Hadassah and National Council of Jewish Women in Winnipeg. She was also a long time B’nai Brith member.
In the business world, the highlight of her career was the building of Linden Woods.  “I became involved in real estate development for a time,” she recalls. “I was hired by Genstar to develop Linden Woods.  The company estimated that it would take about 20 years to complete.  I got it done in two.”
She also taught hair dressing for a while. “I worked with many young Jewish brides,” she says.
Recent years have not been kind to Besse Gurevich. Her beloved husband, Jack, died in 2016 – after almost 65 years of marriage.  Older son, Richard, passed away in Vancouver in 2018 and, most recently –six months ago – younger son, Howard, followed.  She notes that there were 200 mourners at Howard’s funeral.
(Howard Gurevich was in marketing for many years before turning his talents to the art world. In recent years, he was best known for Gurevich Fine Art in the Exchange District and his support of local artists.)
Besse Gurevich celebrated her 100th birthday – which took place at the height of the Covid shutdown – quietly. 
While she used to enjoy reading. she is unable to do so any more. She can still listen to television.
And while she has few family members to visit her any more, she does have a group of friends interesting enough from the local theatre scene.  For many years, she was a close friend of the late Doreen Brownstone, one of the leading figures in theatre in Winnipeg for more than half a century.  Besse became part of the group that would visit Doreen every week and, since Doreen passed on three years ago, the members of the group have continued to visit Besse on a weekly basis.  

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Winnipeg author’s first novel gripping tale of romance, action and intrigue, set in 15th century Spain and Morocco

“The Chronos of Andalucia” author Merom Toledano

By MYRON LOVE “The Chronos of Andalucia”, a novel just released by first-time author Merom Toledano, is a historical romance set in late 15th century Spain and Morocco, filled with passion, action, intrigue, unexpected twists and turns – and, of course, with the requirement of any medieval story – a quest.
The easy-to-read, 190 page book follows the adventures of Catalina, a young woman living by her wits on the streets of Granada in the year 1487, (just after the Christian armies of Ferdinand and Isabella had recaptured all of Spain from the Moors) – while trying to evade the agents of the Inquisition, who had murdered her Jewish mother and Christian father 10 years earlier.  She was left with an insatiable desire to learn about astronomy, along with a mysterious map and an astrolabe (an instrument formerly used to make astronomical measurements) – the importance of which will only be unveiled if she can get to the city of Tangier in Morocco.
Early on, there is a reference to Abraham Zacuto, a prominent Spanish rabbi famed for his knowledge of astronomy and astrology.
The action begins when she has a casual interaction with a former Spanish soldier, Diego.  When the forces of the Inquisition approach, she flees with the soldier – who is also her love interest – and who helps her to escape.  They turn for help to a childhood friend of Catalina’s – Roberta, a nun, who helps them on their perilous  journey to Tangier – a journey that includes being captured by pirates, surviving a shipwreck, being separated for a long period of time and, of course, finding each other again and realizing the success of their joint quest.
In his writing, the author paints vivid word pictures of the different characters and beautifully invokes the colour, sights, sounds and scents of the time and the places. 
What I found truly remarkable about the writing of “The Chronos of Andalucia” is that English is not Merom  Toledano’s first language.  The Israeli-born author – he grew up near Haifa – came to Winnipeg with his young family just eight years ago.
“I have had this book in mind for several years now,” says the satellite engineer whose working career takes him to many different parts of the world. 
He notes that he has always felt a connection to Spain, Spanish music and literature – a reflection of his family’s modern origins in that country.  His great-grandparents, he relates, lived in Toledo – hence the family name, Toledano.  His parents lived in Meknes in Morocco while his father attended university in Tangier before making aliyah.
Toledano just published “The Chronos of Andalucia” in April on Amazon. He reports that the book – which is available here at McNally Robinson – has been selling well –close to 100 copies – with orders coming from a bookstore chain in England, a bookstore in Denmark, and one in Italy.
“I have had between 30 and 40 positive reviews so far,” he reports.
Toledano adds that he envisages “The Chronos of Andalucia” to be the first in a series – a la the writer Danielle Steele.  He is already working on a sequel – which is hinted at the end of “The Chronos” and, he reports, he is establishing his own independent publishing operation.        

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