Features
What would you do if you found out – at age 34 – that your mother was artificially inseminated, you’re half Ashkenazi Jewish, and you have at least six other siblings?
By BERNIE BELLAN Artificial insemination has been around for a very long time. “The first documented application of artificial insemination in humans was done in London in the 1770s by John Hunter,” says an article from The National Library of Medicine. Sperm banks were first developed in the 1950s.
In the 1970s the University of Manitoba Medical School began an artificial insemination program under the direction of Dr. Jeremy Kredentser.
According to an article in the November 3, 1985 Winnipeg Free Press, “about 100 to 120 couples a year” were being seen in that program, said Dr. Kredentser at the time.
The article went on to explain that “Donor sperm is collected from carefully screened donors such as doctors, medical students and others associated with the U of M.”
Under the rules of that program donors were allowed to submit a maximum of 25 sperm donations – which meant any children who were born as a result of artificial insemination from the program could have quite a few half brothers or sisters.
That program actually was the forerunner of what is now the Heartland Fertility Clinic, where Dr. Kredentser practised and was a director for many years.
But, just as is the case with many individuals who have found out later in life that they were adopted, many individuals who have been fathered by anonymous sperm donors want to know about their actual biological ancestry.
In the past few years, as a result of increasingly sophisticated DNA testing, many of those individuals have been able to discover, not only a great deal of information about their ancestry, but very specific information about relatives about whom they would likely never have known.
Such was the case with one young Winnipeg man, who will be referred to in this article simply as T, not because he insisted on anonymity, but because we wanted to take steps to protect the identities of his siblings and, more importantly, his biological father, whose identity was discovered by T through a process of sleuthing. To this point, T notes, despite his fairly recent attempt to reach out to his biological father, he has not received a response.
We had been made aware of T’s story by a mutual acquaintance. When I heard though that T had discovered he was “49% Ashkenazi Jewish” I thought that his story of discovery might make for a fascinating read – if he was willing to share it.
Not only was T extremely forthcoming in telling me his story, he was eager to have it written about. HIs hope is that his biological father might also become aware of this story and come to the realization that T’s motivation in attempting to make contact with him – as it often is with children who have discovered they have been adopted, is not at all malicious; it is a mixture of curiosity, also a desire to learn whether there are any genetic traits about which they should become aware.
A’s story begins in December 2021. What began largely as a lark turned into something quite unexpected. T explains that he and his wife wanted to take DNA tests – not for any particular reason, simply out of curiosity.
T and his wife decided to register on a site called “23andMe,” where all you have to do is send in a DNA sample (from your saliva) for testing. If someone else who has also registered on the site – and has allowed their identity to be known to individuals who turn out to be related, you will receive a notification that you have matches. (The other very popular site that offers a similar service is Ancestry.com.)
In most cases, as T noted, the results will turn up a slew of distant cousins – possibly some closer cousins, but not much more than that.
However, the story took a very unexpected twist – even before T and his wife got their results back. It was late 2021and T’s mother was over to T’s and his soon-to-be wife’s house. T says he told his mother about the DNA test that he and his wife had taken and explained to her – in a joking way he thought, that “we were gonna make sure we’re not related.”
But, his mother’s reaction took him by surprise, he says. She “showed that she was a little bit agitated.”
T says he wondered whether he was “like, oh God, adopted?”
He continues: “…and then she told me, she divulged that information, she said she was going to tell me sooner than later, but on account of this, you know, the advent of all these DNA kits and stuff, she realized that the writing was on the wall, but you know, when they did it, and …the origins of this, um, fertility company, which was in the mid 80s.” (By “fertility company,” T is referring to the program that had been run at the University of Manitoba Medical School.)
I said to T: “Because in anticipation of what you’re gonna find out, she’s gonna have to break the news after all these years (that she had been artificially inseminated) . Okay. so then how much longer did you have to wait for the results?”
I asked T why his mother had been artificially inseminated? It turns our that her husband – the man T had always believed was his biological father, had had a vasectomy prior to T’s mother marrying him – and T’s mother desperately wanted to have a child.
T explains that the results came back quite quickly – only a month later.
As T describes it, “I’m dying to find out. We’ve rolled the dice here. So we’re waiting to hear what’s going to happen. I don’t know. I had no idea about the Ashkenazi Jewish thing. Back then, I had no idea about any siblings.”
Something else should be explained at this point. T’s mother was married fairly late in life – to a man who had been previously married, and who had two sons from his previous marriage – who are 20 years older than T. As T says, “I was pretty excited because I’ve always wanted, you know, a brother or sister, but my own age.” And here was his chance to discover that he did have another sibling, maybe more than one – much closer to his own age.
The results of A’s DNA test came back from 23andMe with the revelation that T was 49% Ashkenazi Jewish. Further, as T says, “only one sibling is showing, and then like a million cousins. Like, second, second, third, distant cousins at that point.” (It should be explained that not only do 23andMe and Ancestry.com provide names of relatives whose genetic profiles match – at least somewhat, they provide pictures as well.)
But, as T says, the results showed “nobody who looks like me, no names I recognize. And a lot of the distant cousins are presumably on the paternal side. So it’s like a lot of Jewish names in New York.”
Yet, there was a sibling – a half sister (whose name will not be revealed), but who didn’t live in Winnipeg any more. Still, T reached out to her and the half sister revealed to T that she had known since she was 15 that she was the product of artificial insemination, but nothing more than that.
Another year rolls by – it’s now 2022 and suddenly T and his half sister are informed by 23andMe that they have another half brother – who lives in Winnipeg, and who’s a year younger than T.
T and his new half brother connect. As T says, “he’s like 10 minutes away from me…but the weirdest part about this is like, I can’t find any connection with him in Winnipeg, which is weird because we’re lifelong Winnipeggers and it takes, you know how it is, it takes no time at all to find a Winnipeg connection, right?”
But A’s new half brother also tells T and the half sister that he had only recently tried 23andMe because he had been on Ancestry.com – but it hadn’t yielded any close matches. However, in 2023, after the new half brother is introduced to T and the other half sister, the new half brother receives a notification from Ancestry.com that they’ve reviewed his DNA results again – and this time they’ve found three new half sisters – all of whom live in Winnipeg!
It turns out that each of those half sisters had been aware they were the products of artificial insemination. There turns out to be one more half brother – who doesn’t live in Winnipeg – bringing the total of known siblings to seven. As T notes, however, there could be as many as 18 more siblings!
Okay, so now we know T has six siblings, and they’re all 49% Ashkenazi Jewish. How does that lead to T’s discovering who the sperm donor was?
At this point I have to be very careful not to get too specific, out of concern that identities that should remain anonymous are not divulged.
It turns out though that someone else had been on Ancestry.com – but later it emerges that the reason this person would have been on Ancestry.com was that she was a Holocaust survivor, likely looking for long lost relatives who had been separated by World War II.
This woman had reached out to one of T’s half sisters and asks her whether she is a cousin. The half sister responds: “No, I’m your granddaughter.”
Apparently, according to T, finding that out likely “spooked” the Holocaust survivor, and she “ghosted” T’s half sister. T says her “profile disappeared and has not been heard from since.”
(By way of explanation, when Ancestry.com reports a match, it indicates the level of closeness between two individuals. e.g., a parent or a child will be identified as a parent or child; a grandparent, grandchild or sibling will be identified as “immediate family. T’s half sister discovered that she had a paternal grandmother. She didn’t know that this woman was a Holocaust survivor immediately.)
T’s half brother – who had been on both Ancestry.com and 23andMe, did inform T of their paternal grandmother’s name – in 2023. It turns out that the other three half sisters, along with A’s half brother – all of whom had been on Ancestry.com, and who had found each other on Ancestry.com, had also done some digging on their own.
One of the half sisters was told about a book titled “Stories of Winnipeg Holocaust Survivors,” which was compiled by Belle Jarniewski, currently Executive Director of the Jewish Heritage Centre of Western Canada. (At the time Belle was known as Belle Milo, which is the name given on the cover of the book.)
There is a chapter in the book devoted to the story of the Holocaust survivor who had reached out to the half sister. In that chapter the names of the woman’s children are given. It didn’t take too long for that half sister to deduce which of the women’s children would have been the sperm donor. She shared that information with her two other half sisters in Winnipeg – but none of them made any attempt to contact their biological father.
(By the way, once T revealed his paternal grandmother’s name to me I did find some references to her in the Jewish Post archives that are accessible on jewishpostandnews.ca. One of those references included the names of her children. It turns out that I knew one of those children from chlldhood.)
Once T was informed by his half brother in Winnipeg of their paternal grandmother’s name, but without having learned that the three Winnipeg half sisters actually knew who their biological father was, he began his own search online for information about the Holocaust survivor who was their paternal grandmother.
He didn’t turn anything up until he, too, discovered the same book, “Stories of Winnipeg Holocaust Survivors, ” that had been key to one of his half sisters discovering who their biological father was.
As T says, “I found the book online, read it, and I found the (children’s) names. And then I looked up her (son’s name). And after a half an hour I found, like, the timeline for (son’s name).” and the timeline for this particular individual and what he would have been doing in 1985, which is when T’s mother was artificially inseminated, fit perfectly.
T says that once “I figured out who the guy was, I found a picture, and I’m like, okay, this man looks like me, this is the guy, and then once I started connecting with the other sisters, they all confirmed that, in fact, was the guy.”
But, before attempting to reach out to their biological father, T wanted to make sure that each of the other siblings was on board with what he was attempting to do. As he says, “At this point, before I reached out to the donor, I wanted to make sure that I had consent from everybody else.”
A received everyone’s permission and T proceeded to write a hand-written letter to their biological father, which he sent in March 2024. As A says, “I get the guy’s address. And I decide that I, like, I really want to reach out I’m just dying of curiosity. Nobody else has (reached out) yet. I don’t understand why. And I’m like, okay. So I write him a handwritten letter that basically just introduced like who I am and that we understand that we might have a connection to him We’re grateful for him.
“And if he has any interest in contacting us, here’s how we can be contacted But otherwise, we’re not going to bug you. The ball’s in your court. We have no interest in ransacking your life because at the end of the day, we’re all grateful for, you know, what you’ve done for us, and we all have great lives, and thank you, that kind of thing.” To this point T says he has not received any response.
Something I wondered about – and what I’m sure you’re also wondering about, is the revelation that the genetic make-up that T and each of his siblings is carrying is 49% Ashkenazi Jewish. I wondered whether finding that out has made any difference in the lives of T and his siblings?
In fact, the answer – if T and his siblings are truthful, is that it hasn’t made any difference at all. T says he “grew up in the United Church,” but doesn’t consider himself religious. Perhaps somewhat ironically, T says that “half of my friends are Ashkenazi Jewish guys.” In fact, he’s very familiar with Jewish culture and has been to the Shaarey Zedek Synagogue many times. (I should note that the person who put me on to this story is Jewish and has known T for years.)
There are many other twists to T’s story – about how closely connected he is to so many aspects of Jewish life, but again – for the sake of confidentiality I won’t reveal them here. Suffice to say that T could very easily immerse himself into the Jewish community here without missing a beat – if that’s what he chose to do.
As for his siblings – well, that’s a different story. T says that finding out they had Jewish genes seemed more like a matter of curiosity to them than anything particularly important to their sense of identity. One should bear in mind that many of the individuals who go on to sites like Ancestry.com or 23andMe find out very surprising things about their ancestry, but it hardly changes their own concept of who they are.
T, though, looks upon the revelation that he’s half Jewish with a certain sense of bemusement, but also an explanation for some aspects of his own identity. As he says, “I think it makes me more interesting, and honestly, when I look in the mirror, and what I’m seeing is like, my physiology is turning into a frumpy old Jewish man. My dad (or at least the man T thought was his dad and who raised him) is, like, 6’2. My brothers are 6’1; they’re tall.”
T says though that he has “freckles and a skinny Adam’s apple. And I’m, like: ‘Why do I look like any of these (Jewish) guys (who are his friends)? So, anyway, it just, it clicks, it makes a lot more sense for me. It really helps, it helps me kind of make a little… a piece of the whole situation.”
But there are other aspects to T’s past that are more troublesome. He’s had some issues that might have been inherited – as does one of his brothers. T says that “I’d love to just talk to this guy for an hour. See what he’s like, you know, see if he’s musical,” for instance.
I say to T: “I’m not interested in outing him. You know, if he wants to remain anonymous, let him remain anonymous, but maybe he’ll have second thoughts about it. If someone happens to contact him and says, ‘Hey, uh, we read this story or we heard about a story – and it might be you they’re talking about in the story’.” After all, there must have a fair number of men who donated their sperm in that University of Manitoba Medical School program back in the 1970s and 80s. Wouldn’t some of them be curious to learn what the results were from their donations?
Of course, there have been stories about children of women who were artificially inseminated who have gone after the sperm donors. As T concedes, “I kind of assume his reticence kind of lies in that very kind of thing. There’s a whole bunch of Netflix specials that have come out, and there’s some movies over the last ten years, and I’ve watched all of them.”
Still, despite the assurances that men like T’s biological father who donated their sperm may have received that their identities would remain anonymous, advances in genetic testing have shown that those assurances have been made moot. If it were up to me I’d want to own up to my having provided the sperm that ended up helping to produce a child. Otherwise, now that T’s father has received the information that his identity is known to at least seven of the children that he was responsible for fathering, he’s going to have to live with the possibility that one of those children may show up on his doorstep one day.
One final note about this story: T tells me that he and his six known siblings are all on good terms and communicate with one another. In fact, they all had a get-together this past summer where many of them met each other for the first time. I’d have liked to refer to is a reunion – but that would be a misnomer. How about calling it a “kum zeets,” which is the Israeli term for a get together?
Features
New book highlights relationship between Kabbalah and science
By MYRON LOVE In his new book, “The Relativity of Death: Part One: Basic Principles of Kabbalah of Information. Complete Theory of Information Space, Miracles and Maxwell’s Demon,” Dr. Eduard Shyfrin demonstrates the complementary relationship between Kabbalah – the ancient practice of Jewish mysticism – and science.
“The Relativity of Death” is a follow up to “From Infinity to Man: the Fundamental Ideas of Kabbalah Within the Framework of Information Theory and Quantum Physics,” Shyfrin’s previous work on the subject, which he published in 2018.
In his introduction to “The Relativity of Death”, the author, himself a scientist by training – observes that while “science is absolutely necessary for humankind, it nevertheless does not constitute the whole truth. Science is morally neutral,” he continues. “Two plus two equals four is neither good nor bad. Science doesn’t provide an answer to the basic questions about our existence: Why are we here? What is our mission? How should we live? Do we have a freedom of choice? Why are we destined to die? And finally, the famous question posted by Gottfried Leibniz as to why is there something rather than nothing?
“I believe that it is impossible and wrong to try to describe Creation while at the same time excluding the Creator.
“When I started reading the works of kabbalists,” he notes, ‘I realised that Kabbalah is deeply ‘scientific,’ that it is a theory of Creation of which our Universe is just a part. Kabbalah is not a textbook – it doesn’t provide equations and laws. Instead, it’s a live body comprised of the teachings and opinions of kabbalists, which often diverged.
“The main notions of Kabbalah,” he writes, “for example the notion of light, are not well defined. As the great kabbalist Rabbi Moshe Hayyim Luzzatto explained in his book, “Philosopher and Kabbalist,” the notion of ‘Light has no definition and is used as some sort of synonym for G-dliness.
“The original works of kabbalists,” he points out, “are very difficult to read and comprehend, since the main ideas are usually expressed through allegories, parables and hints. This makes them largely inaccessible to contemporary readers. With this in mind, I attempted to create the Theory of Kabbalah of Information based on traditional Kabbalah, Theory of Information and the body of scientific knowledge accumulated by humankind, written in simple language accessible to the reader.”
Eduard Shyfrin is a remarkable individual – a man of many parts. In addition to his roles as scientist and author – he has also published a children’s book – the Ukrainian-born Shyfrin is a musician who writes his own words and music, a billionaire, and an important community leader who generously supports his fellow Ukrainian Jews and our Israeli homeland.
Growing up during the last years of the Soviet Union though, it comes as no surprise that he knew nothing about Judaism except that he was Jewish. In the Soviet Union, being Jewish was simply a label that kept you from being accepted into top universities and leadership roles.
“We tried to hide out Jewishness,” he recalls. “I wanted to be a physicist but wasn’t accepted into university.”
Instead, he followed in his father’s footsteps and became a metallurgist. In 1983, he started work at a Ukrainian steel plant. Over the next few years, he was promoted from assistant foreman to manager to head of marketing.
He was able to earn a PhD in physical chemistry in 1993.
In 1993, he changed jobs – becoming a representative in Ukraine of a Hong Kong-based company called Linkfull. He was responsible for buying steel for export. In 1994, he joined forces with Alex Schnaider and co-founded a company called the Midland Group, with partner Alexander Shnaider. The company deals in steel, shipping, real estate, agriculture and sport ventures.
Shyfrin’s interest in Judaism was sparked by the arrival of Chabad rabbis in the lands of the former Soviet Union in the mid 1990s and, in particular, Rabbi David Bleich, the Chief Rabbi of Ukraine. Shyfrin recalls that Rabbi Bleich got him involved in Jewish charities. He helped rebuild the oldest synagogue in Kiev, provided funds for the Jewish schools in the city, and and financed the construction of the Jewish Education Centre in Kiev, which was dedicated to his late father.
Still, Shyfrin remained largely secular.
It was in 2002, he recalls, that he experienced a midlife crisis when he began questioning the meaning of life – and death.
“My rabbi,” he says, “encouraged me to commit to a more Jewish lifestyle. I began keeping kosher, putting on tefillin and studying Torah. I found in my Torah study that there were a lot of contradictions and inconsistencies in what I was reading in the Torah and what I had learned as a scientist.”
Shyfrin began to find his answers in Kabbalah, which he approached through a scientific perspective. As a result , he came to understand kabbalah and reality as “fundamentally information based and that physics and Torah describe different layers of the same structure”.
That epiphany led to his first book, which has sold around 8,000 copies. He followed up the book’s success by writing numerous articles for the Jerusalem Post. Shyfrin also gives a yearly lecture in London, where he now makes his home.
He is also the founder of the Shyfrin Alliance, an initiative dedicated to advancing understanding of Jewish mysticism and spiritual thought.
Alongside his delving into Jewish mysticism, Shyfrin remains very much involved in the real world and the crises affecting Israel, the Jewish people, and his Ukrainian homeland. He currently serves as Vice President of the World Jewish Congress, representing Ukraine. He continues to fund Jewish schools, synagogues and community centres across Ukraine and Russia.
Since the invasion of Ukraine, Shyfrin has helped finance evacuations of Jewish elderly people and children to Hungary and Israel and continues to support communities on a monthly basis.
“For me, a Jew is a Jew,” he has been quoted as saying. “It does not matter where he lives. We are one family.”
As for the rising antisemitism in Europe, he points out that – unlike the 1930s – today, we have Israel.
“Israel is our country and we must be strong enough to protect it,” he is quoted as saying..
“The Relativity of Death” was released in February, and, Shyfrin reports, has already sold over 5,000 copies. The book is available on Amazon and Kindle.
Features
Manitoba Has No iGaming Framework. So Where Are Winnipeg Players Actually Gambling Online?
Ontario’s regulated iGaming market hit a 91.1% channelization rate in May 2026, according to an AGCO/Ipsos study. Meaning nine out of ten Ontario players who gamble online are doing so through a licensed, registered operator. That’s a real number, and it took years of regulatory architecture to get there. Manitoba has none of that architecture. Zero. There’s no provincial iGaming framework, no registered operator list, and no equivalent to the iGaming Ontario regime that launched in April 2022. So when Winnipeg players open a browser and look for somewhere to play, they’re not choosing between regulated sites. They’re choosing between offshore ones.
For players trying to make sense of that offshore market, the most practical move is to compare no verification casinos side by side. Withdrawal speeds, licensing jurisdiction, and bonus terms vary far more than most review sites admit. A Curaçao-licensed site and a Malta Gaming Authority-licensed site can look identical on the homepage and behave completely differently when you try to withdraw CAD on a Sunday night.
Why Manitoba Is Still Waiting
The short answer: political will and provincial lottery revenue protection. Manitoba Liquor & Lotteries (MBLL) runs PlayNow.com, which is the province’s only officially sanctioned online gambling platform. It’s a Crown corporation product. Expanding regulation to private operators means cannibalizing that revenue stream, and no provincial government has been willing to absorb that trade-off yet.
Alberta moved first, announcing in 2024 that it would follow Ontario’s open-market model. The Jewish Post covered the Alberta question in its opinion piece on provincial iGaming regulation. Saskatchewan and British Columbia have their own Crown-run online products. Manitoba? MBLL runs PlayNow, and that’s where the conversation stops.
The practical consequence is straightforward. PlayNow offers a limited game library, deposit methods that exclude several major e-wallets, and. Critically. A full KYC process that requires government-issued ID before a player can withdraw. For anyone who has spent time on offshore platforms, PlayNow’s withdrawal processing feels closer to a 2009 bank wire than a modern iGaming product.
What ‘No Verification’ Actually Means
The term gets used loosely, so let’s be precise. No-verification casinos. Sometimes called no-KYC casinos. Don’t require you to upload a passport or utility bill to open an account and withdraw. Most operate on a tiered model: you can deposit and withdraw up to a threshold (often around C$2,000 to C$5,000 cumulative) without identity documents. Go above that, and they’ll ask for verification at that point.
That’s meaningfully different from a blanket “no ID ever” claim, which doesn’t really exist at licensed operators. Any site claiming zero KYC under all circumstances is either very small, unlicensed, or not being straight with you about their AML obligations.
The ones worth looking at are licensed under jurisdictions that actually enforce standards. Curaçao eGaming being the most common for Canadian-facing sites, Malta Gaming Authority and Isle of Man for the better-resourced operators. Licensing matters because it determines what happens when a dispute arises. A Curaçao license at least gives you a complaints pathway. No license gives you nothing.
The Real Variables Winnipeg Players Should Check
Withdrawal speed is where most offshore sites either earn or lose the trust. I’ve tested CAD withdrawals via Interac e-Transfer on three different offshore platforms in the last six months. Two cleared within 90 minutes on a weekday. The third flagged my withdrawal for a manual review that took four business days and required a second round of document uploads. Same deposit method, very different outcomes.
Bonus terms are the other landmine. A 100% match up to C$500 sounds good until you read the wagering requirement. Anything above 35x on slots. And some no-verification sites are running 45x or 50x. Makes the bonus money functionally worthless unless you’re grinding low-volatility games for hours. The max bet cap during bonus play is equally critical. C$5 per spin on a C$500 bonus means you need 100 spins minimum just to cycle through once, and the dead spins add up fast.
Payment method availability for Canadian players specifically is worth a dedicated check. Not every offshore site offers Interac. Some push crypto as the primary withdrawal rail, which works fine if you’re comfortable converting CAD to USDT and back. But adds friction and exchange rate risk most players don’t account for. A few have added MuchBetter and eZeeWallet as alternatives, which process faster than bank transfers and don’t trigger the same scrutiny from Canadian banks that some gambling-coded transactions do.
The Legal Position for Manitoba Players
This comes up constantly, and the honest answer is that Canadian gambling law places regulatory authority under provincial jurisdiction, meaning the federal Criminal Code doesn’t prohibit individuals from playing at offshore sites. It prohibits operating an unlicensed gambling business in Canada. Players are not operators. No Canadian has been prosecuted for accessing an offshore gambling site.
That said, “not illegal” and “fully protected” are different things. If an offshore operator disappears with your funds, you have limited recourse. If a withdrawal is declined and the operator ghosts your support ticket, no provincial regulator is going to intervene on your behalf the way the AGCO can intervene for an Ontario player. You’re relying on the operator’s licensing body, which may or may not respond in a useful timeframe.
Gowling WLG’s 2025 analysis of Manitoba’s enforcement posture notes that the province has moved against offshore operators directly. Including action against Bodog. But has taken no steps toward building a regulatory framework that would bring players back onto licensed domestic ground. The enforcement is pointed at operators, not players, and it hasn’t changed what’s available to Winnipeg residents looking for alternatives to PlayNow.
Where This Lands
Manitoba’s regulatory gap isn’t closing soon. Alberta’s framework is still being built. The realistic picture for Winnipeg players in 2026 is that offshore, no-verification operators remain the de facto alternative to PlayNow. And the quality gap between a well-run licensed offshore site and a badly run one is significant enough that doing due diligence before depositing is not optional.
Check the license, read the withdrawal terms before the bonus terms, and know your method’s processing time. The market isn’t going away; it’s just not regulated to protect you yet.
Gambling involves risk. Please play responsibly and only wager what you can afford to lose. If you feel gambling is becoming a problem, visit BeGambleAware.org or call 1-800-GAMBLER.
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Frequently Asked Questions
Is it legal for Manitoba players to gamble on offshore casino sites? Canadian federal law targets operators running unlicensed gambling businesses, not individual players. Manitoba residents accessing offshore sites are not violating federal law. However, there’s no provincial regulatory protection if a dispute arises. You’re relying on the operator’s licensing body, which may be slow or unresponsive.
What is the difference between PlayNow and offshore no-verification casinos? PlayNow is Manitoba’s Crown-run online gambling platform, requiring full KYC and offering a limited game library. Offshore no-verification casinos skip the document upload process up to a withdrawal threshold, typically run larger game libraries, and often process CAD withdrawals faster. But without provincial regulatory protection backing you up.
Are no-verification casinos licensed? The reputable ones are. Curaçao eGaming and the Malta Gaming Authority are the most common licensing jurisdictions for Canadian-facing no-KYC operators. Unlicensed sites exist and should be avoided entirely. No license means no complaints pathway and no enforceable player protection if a dispute arises.
Why doesn’t Manitoba have a regulated iGaming market like Ontario? Political and financial reasons. Manitoba Liquor & Lotteries earns revenue from PlayNow, its Crown-run platform. Bringing private operators into a licensed open market would cannibalize that revenue stream. No provincial government has been willing to accept that trade-off, though pressure from Alberta’s move toward an Ontario-style framework may eventually shift the calculus.
What should I check before depositing at a no-verification casino as a Canadian player? Four things: licensing jurisdiction, withdrawal speed for CAD specifically, wagering requirements on any bonus (anything above 35x is a red flag), and whether Interac e-Transfer is available as a withdrawal method. Crypto rails are faster but add exchange rate risk most players underestimate.
Features
A Left-wing Yiddishist in Western Canada
By HENRY SREBRNIK I recently presented a paper on Khaim Zhitlovsky, a major proponent of secular Jewish diaspora nationalism and Jewish nationhood, at the Association for Canadian Jewish Studies annual conference at York University in Toronto.
Zhitlovsky was born in Ushachi near Vitebsk in what is now Belarus in 1865. A leading architect of secular Jewish culture and thought, he was a central figure in the progressive Jewish intelligentsia of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century in Canada and the United States.
At a Jewish International Cultural Conference organized in Paris in September 1937, the Alveltlekher Yiddisher Kultur Farband (YKUF) was founded, and he was one of the supporters. As the honorary president of the YKUF in the United States, Zhitlovsky became an icon of the Yiddishist Communist movement, particularly in western Canada, where he had inspired the founding of a strong secular Yiddish school system. At the fifth Canadian Labour Zionist conference, held in Montreal in 1910, Zhitlovsky had made a plea for Yiddish schools, saying, “If you reject Yiddish, the Jewish proletariat will reject you.”
During the Second World War, the Communist-dominated YKUF became the most important ideological vehicle for the pro-Soviet Jewish movement in Canada. It included Winnipeg activists such as Dr. Benjamin A. Victor, who had come to Canada in 1912 as a child, from the small town of Zhlobin in Belarus, and grew up in Winnipeg’s North End. He and others devoted their political energies to YKUF work and by early 1941 there were three YKUF reading circles in Winnipeg.
Much of this activity was also due to the arrival in Winnipeg of the new principal of the Communist-organized Sholem Aleichem School (formerly the Liberty Temple School), Labl Basman. Victor addressed meetings, speaking about the works of Zhitlovsky and Zishe Weinper, both prominent New York-based Yiddishists and YKUF leaders.
“Dr. B.A.Victor must be counted as being one of the most important workers in the progressive Jewish cultural movement in Winnipeg, and in particular the YKUF,” wrote Basman in the Kanader Yidishe Vochenblat, the weekly newspaper of the Canadian Jewish Communists, in the spring of 1942. “Dr. Victor has always stood in the forefront of every cultural-social movement that has been progressive and in the interests of the masses.”
Winnipeg, which Zhitlovsky visited frequently over the years, was, in the words of Jack Switzer, “a Zhitlovsky fortress.” Zhitlovsky’s 75th birthday in the autumn of 1941 had been celebrated by the organization in all of its branches across the country. When he again visited Canada in April 1942, a new YKUF men’s club was named in his honour in Winnipeg. Montreal poet Sholem Shtern, in one laudatory profile, depicted Zhitlovsky’s struggle on behalf of Yiddish language and culture, against assimilationists on both left and right, and against Zionist Hebraists. “In Yiddish Zhitlovsky sees that great progressive strength which will enable it to bring into being a new era in Jewish life.”
So Zhitlovsky’s sudden death on May 6, 1943, in Calgary, while he was on a cross-Canada lecture tour, “hit us like a thunderbolt” and “brought about sadness throughout the country,” declared the Vochenblat.
Labl Basman reported on Zhitlovsky’s last trip to Winnipeg. His two lectures had been attended by some 1,300 people, and, Basman observed, “provided the progressive Jewish community with a clear and outstanding analysis of these catastrophic times.” Zhitlovsky had stressed that support for the Soviet Union was imperative; the USSR needed to emerge from the war strengthened and with a prominent role in any post-war settlement. The Soviet Union was the centre of world progress and Jews would benefit greatly from a strong USSR, since this would mean the end of anti-Semitism and the solution of the Jewish question.
Louis Pearlman of Calgary, who was cultural chair of that city’s Peretz Shule, described Zhitlovsky’s visit to the city where he would pass away, in the Vochenblat. Zhitlovsky arrived in Calgary from Winnipeg on April 28, in good spirits, and was scheduled to give six lectures over a two-week period. About 100 people turned out for his first lecture on April 30, in the Peretz Shule, on “Socialism and Religion.”
He spoke again May 2, to 150 people, on “The Spiritual Battle of the Jewish People for its Survival.” His third lecture, on May 4, dealt with Judaism and Christianity and was also well received. But a day later he had a heart attack and was taken to a hospital; he died on May 6. Pearlman accompanied Zhitlovsky’s body back to New York and attended his funeral there.
The Vochenblat reprinted Zhitlovsky’s greetings to Birobidzhan, the Jewish Autonomous Region in the Soviet far east, on its 15th anniversary, which he had released on April 25. “Our Jewish people now has two countries in which a new Jewish life is being built, a normal life” one where Jews will live in Jewish towns and Jewish cities, “just like all the other peoples on earth,” he wrote. “The two countries are Birobidzhan and Erets Yisroel.” They ought not to be seen as antagonistic alternatives, he declared. In both, Jewish life would become “normalized” and Jews would flourish.
“Every Jewish accomplishment in both countries gives us courage in the struggle for our survival, elevates the prestige of our people in the eyes of the non-Jewish world, and strengthens our desire for the complete national liberation of our people, with the complete rights and strengths of membership in the fraternal family of nations. May the Jewish nation of Birobidzhan have long life and mature in freedom!”
Of course we now know the Birobidzhan project was a dismal failure, nor was the Soviet Union the “promised land” dreamt of by the Jewish left. Perhaps an entry in the third volume of the Leksikon Fun Der Nayer Yidisher Literatur, published in 1960 by the Congress of Jewish Culture, sums Zhitlovsky up best:
“A man who adopted, abandoned, or lost interest in so many different political programs and causes; who joined, left, or drifted away from so many parties was probably destined, at least in the short run, to oblivion. At varying times, he was a sharp opponent of Zionism and a Zionist, an anti-territorialist and a territorialist, a supporter of the Jewish Labour Bund and one of its harshest critics, a Socialist Revolutionary and an apologist for Bolshevism. He was a kind of ideological nomad, forever on the move” — and so now virtually forgotten.
Henry Srebrnik is a professor emeritus of political science at the University of Prince Edward Island.
