“Why did the Jews stay?”
This question, asked by a high school student during a recent Holocaust education session I gave at a Sault Ste. Marie, Ont., high school, shook me. Today, as violent antisemitism surges in cities like Montreal, Amsterdam and beyond, it is a question many Canadian Jews, including myself, are now asking.
I explained to the students that amidst the rising antisemitism of the 1930s many Jews left while they could — before borders were slammed shut — but that often they weren’t heading for protection in America or England or India, they left their homes and countries for a less certain future, to roam villages or hide in forests.
For every reason to leave, there were equally compelling challenges and reasons to stay.
For many, escaping was logistically and financially impossible — one needed a place to go and the means to get there by train or boat. Some believed the horror was temporary, trusting non-Jewish friends to demand justice. Sound familiar?
Others couldn’t imagine abandoning homes they loved, family and communities where they had deep roots. Sound familiar?
Some stayed to resist, only to discover they were few in number and lacked the ability and resources to mount an effective fight. Others, overwhelmed by the state of their world, fell into despair and lost the energy to leave. Sound familiar?
Crucially, without a state of Israel, there was no safe haven where Jews could live freely and authentically.
Just as Jews stayed in their homes during the rise of Nazi terror, terrified yet hopeful, we remain in Canada today despite the rising tide of hate — for similar reasons.
I stay in an increasingly antisemitic Canada for many of those same reasons. Chief among them is my commitment to fighting rampant antisemitism within our union system. The combination of my Jewish background, and the fact that I am a former union leader, compels me to combat this systemic hate and work toward returning unions to their core mandate: representing all members without discrimination.
Unions once championed worker protections, but today, many appear to have abandoned this mission. Instead, geopolitical issues irrelevant to the workplace overshadow the unions’ true purpose and divide their members.
Too many union leaders — earning six-figure salaries funded by dues, including those from Jewish members — dismiss the lived experiences of Jewish workers. These members endure indignities and increasingly antisemitic behaviour, which would be roundly condemned were it directed at any other equity group.
For example, CUPE Ontario’s president, Fred Hahn, posted a tweet suggesting that the Hamas massacre of October 7 was an act of “resistance.” He later apologized for his use of words, but the tone was set. Costs to union members whose leaders take such divisive actions have included exclusion from meetings and events, witnessing union leaders participate in rallies where “death to Jews” has been chanted, and seeing union resources directed toward groups with ties to antisemitic organizations. These actions suggest Hahn and other union members blame Canadian Jews for events happening on the other side of the world, simply because they are Jews.
Systemic antisemitism seems to have become the norm. Some wonder if it has replaced the fight for members’ rights as the central focus of any union. With few other recourse, at least 80 Jewish union members have been forced to file human rights complaints against their unions — something no one wants. This level of discrimination would never be tolerated if it targeted any other equity-seeking group. Yet, for Jewish members, it is routine.
My once-comfortable reality as a third-generation Canadian Jew is no more. I hear calls for a “final solution” met with words of condemnation but little other visible action from political leaders. I watch in sorrow and anger as Jewish institutions across Canada are targeted. Worse, these acts often go unchallenged — or are encouraged by union leaders who claim to represent all members, or political leaders who should be representing all Canadians.
Still, I stay. My family stays. We stay for the same reasons others stayed in Germany and Poland: we love our homes, our friends (especially those who speak out against hate), and we love Canada.
But do we think about leaving? Absolutely, and even considering it is gut-wrenching. You may be surprised that some reading this may wish we would leave — or that our ancestors had never come to Canada — simply because we are Jews.
What’s most disturbing is that the question, “Why do we stay?” even needs to be asked. It shouldn’t. We shouldn’t have to justify our place here in Canada, nor suffer the indignity of begging those in power — leaders who claim to represent all Canadians — to protect us.
Is Canada still a nation that stands for tolerance and inclusion, or are we becoming a nation that tolerates hate? These are questions that demand answers — not in words, but in meaningful action.
The students I spoke to understood what this says about our country today. Look in the mirror, Canada.
National Post
Jeff Arbus, OPSEU/SEFPO regional vice-president (retired) and former OPSEU/SEFPO local president and co-chair of the OPSEU/SEFPO college academic bargaining team.