Reflections from a Bomb Shelter in Tel Aviv

As Israel’s war with Iran and its proxies drags on into its fourteenth month, I consider myself fortunate to be here in Israel. I am not a refugee from the Ukraine or Europe. I am a Canadian with dual citizenship, Canadian and Israeli, having recently returned to Israel after spending the summer in Vancouver.

From the placid, picture-perfect city of Vancouver I read daily of acts and expressions of hatred in Canada towards Jews and Israel. They are widely tolerated and have become so commonplace that they have  woven their way into the  fabric of Canadian society. In Vancouver pro-Palestinian demonstrators slaughtered a pig and placed its bloody head on a post of the gate in front of the home of the president of the University of British Columbia. This was meant as a warning of what would happen if UBC did not divest from Israel. In Toronto a kaffiyeh clad, masked mob appeared without warning on a lazy Sunday afternoon  on a quiet residential street of a predominantly Jewish neighbourhood, terrorizing people with loud chants  and racial slurs.  In Montreal, a mob of masked anti-Israel protesters tried to disrupt an event featuring former Israel government spokesman, Eylon Levy at the Shaar Hashamayim Synagogue. There are hundreds of such examples, both on large and small scales, in universities, art galleries, museums, shopping malls, major streets and highways, and at any Jewish institutions where Jews may gather. Or not. Destruction and damage can take place when the buildings are empty. Synagogues are firebombed; Jewish schools are shot up in the middle of the night.  The Canadian government and local police do next to nothing to deter such actions and perpetrators go unpunished. There may be expressions of condemnations, and sympathy, but they lack credibility since words don’t get translated into actions. There is dutiful media reporting, but with few exceptions there are no condemnations.   It’s fair to say that it’s open season on Jews in Canada.

The event in Montreal illustrates this particularly well. Montreal’s large Jewish community has been the frequent target of antisemitic actions because of a substantial Muslim community and because of lack of support from both the provincial and municipal governments. The Shaar Hashamayim Synagogue is one of the most venerable in Canada. It was founded in 1846 and is the oldest and largest Ashkenazi synagogue in Canada. Its most illustrious member was the late Leonard Cohen, who recorded his last album, You Want It Darker, with the Shaar Hashamayim Synagogue Choir.

The masked mob was not impressed. Though there is an injunction in place requiring protesters to remain at least 50 meters away from the sidewalk in front of the building, they were much closer. This was visible on Instagram feeds and was widely reported. For four hours, the mob stood there, closing in, yelling, harassing and intimidating. Montreal police were present the entire time and did absolutely nothing. They watched. The 550 people who were inside at the event were asked by police to leave via the side and back doors, as the police said they could not guarantee their safety. Fortunately the Shaar had their own security force in place, and  there was no violent escalation.

Two Montreal rabbis issued a statement in which they said, “The anti-Jewish mob has successfully intimidated the police, the prosecutors, and the mayor. Their passivity in the face of violence and threats has sent a clear message to the mob: carry-on, as long as you harass, intimidate, and threaten Jews, there will be no repercussions or criminal charges.”

A few days after I arrived in Israel and was settling in to my apartment in Tel Aviv, , an air raid siren sounded. This meant that I had to hurry down the stairs to the bomb shelter in the basement of my building. There I met some of my neighbours whom I had not yet seen. “Are you crazy, Brenda? Why did you come back to Israel now? Why didn’t you stay in Canada?” they asked me, somewhat bewildered. As we sat in the shelter I explained that as a Jewish woman I had no confidence that the law there would protect me, based on the events and behaviours  of the past year, and I was really powerless to do anything about it. We are a vulnerable minority in the Diaspora. As I was speaking, we could hear an Israeli jet flying overhead. I felt a surge of pride, and strangely, calm. Here, I said we have the IDF to protect us. We are not left to fend for ourselves.  This is the ultimate purpose for Israel’s existence. My neighbours agreed.

The siren turned out to be a false alarm. I  exited the shelter with very mixed feelings. On the one hand I was happy to be in Israel where I certainly felt more empowered because I am not defenceless and at the mercy of malignant forces. I’m also in a society where people really understand what’s going on – it’s hard not to – so that there’s actually some sanity in all the insanity that surrounds us. People  know what needs doing and they do it. There is a sense of purpose and togetherness. A drive to survive. On the other hand I was terribly sad.  I thought of the Canada I have loved, that provided my family with a safe haven and opportunities to build a good life  when they came from Poland in 1925. Of the many thousands more who came, especially after World War 2. Who were free to establish a strong and civic minded Jewish community, strongly connected to its rich heritage;  where I was born and raised. The Canada of which I was so proud all of my life,  the Canada of tolerance, of live and let live, of celebrating the diversity of the Canadian mosaic, has lost its way.