Beyond ‘Ashkenormativity’: Sharing the Stories of Jewish Refugees from Arab Lands

Dec. 8, 2020

By ZACHARY ZARNETT-KLEIN

Nov. 29, known by some as Kaf-Tet b’November, is an important day to Jewish communities around the world. It was on that day in 1947 the United Nations General Assembly voted to adopt the plan to partition British Mandate Palestine between Arabs and Jews. David Ben-Gurion, leading the nascent nation, subsequently declared the State of Israel’s independence on May 14, 1948.

Perhaps less well known is that the following day, Nov. 30, serves as a solemn occasion of remembrance and tribute to Jewish refugees from Arab lands, including the Middle East, the Arabian Peninsula, and North Africa. It is known as Yom Plitim (“the Day of Recognition for Jewish Refugees”).

The UN’s support for the establishment of a Jewish state is seen as a turning point in the history of minority Jewish populations across the Arab world, who had lived there for centuries. During the mid-20th century, these Jews, primarily belonging to Sephardi and Mizrahi communities, were persecuted, and subsequently expelled from the places that they had called home for generations. It is estimated that 850,000 Jewish refugees were displaced from Arab and Muslim lands from the mid-1940s to the early 1970s. 

Many found haven in Israel, while others immigrated to countries around the world, including Canada. These communities have continued to preserve and pass down their heritage, while contributing to society as a whole. From flight to perseverance, the stories of Jewish refugees from Arab lands should be treasured. More than that, they should be retold.

Yet, I’m struck by the seeming lack of awareness regarding this important history. Despite growing up in an Ashkenazi household, attending Jewish day school and summer camp, and taking several Jewish studies courses in university, I find myself undereducated on the history of Jewish refugees from Arab lands. This is a startling gap.

I think that Jewish continuity and identity are rooted in education. I hope that curricula for day schools, post-secondary Jewish studies courses, and experiential/informal Jewish education will better integrate the stories of these Jewish refugees.

Part of the problem is that well-meaning Ashkenazi-majority communities have often sought to further their own history while placing the stories of minorities within the Jewish community on the back burner. This problem has been worsened by external factors, such as “traditional” depictions of Jews and what it means to “look Jewish,” which often typify an Ashkenazi stereotype that many have come to internalize.

From my understanding, this has caused Jews from outside the Ashkenazi norm to feel distanced from “the community.” By breaking off into segments, our tent becomes smaller and weaker. Our institutions fail in their stated ideal of being inviting, instead leading to further isolation.

While recognizing these shortcomings, I want to applaud various community organizations that have made significant strides in the right direction. This past summer, I was fortunate to participate in the UJA Genesis Community Leadership Accelerator. This program made a concerted effort to include speakers from a diverse array of Jewish backgrounds.

As a prime example, Erez Zobary, a young educator and musician, shared with us the stories of her Yemenite Jewish heritage. Her paternal grandparents’ determination and resilience to make a better life in Israel, while remaining connected to its roots, rang of a delicate, dynamic balance. It was particularly interesting to hear her experience, having been born in Canada, of fitting into a Jewish community school where most of her friends and teachers were of Ashkenazi heritage.

Additional efforts have been undertaken by Jewish organizations to raise awareness about Jewish refugees from Arab lands. This past Nov. 29, the Consulate General of Israel for Toronto and Western Canada, in conjunction with Sephardi Voices, the Iraqi Jewish Association of Ontario, UJA Federation of Greater Toronto, and a handful of congregations, marked Yom Plitim. They held a virtual event that featured Canada’s Ambassador to the UN, Bob Rae. The keynote speaker, Linda Menuhin Abdul Aziz, herself a Jewish refugee from Iraq, went on to work in the Israeli Ministry of Foreign Affairs, offering an invaluable perspective into Arab culture and geopolitics.

B’nai Brith Canada held a similar event the next day. The organization fittingly described its webinar, in part, as an opportunity “to virtually commemorate this tragic but little-known chapter in Jewish history.” To honour this history, B’nai Brith encouraged participants to contact their MP and urge the government to list Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) as a terrorist entity, based on a motion passed by the previous Parliament. I am glad to see a range of Jewish organizations marking this important epoch.

So what else can we do?

At a time of increasing polarization, we should reach out, challenge our assumptions, and learn something new. We should question why certain stories are retold, while others are overlooked. We should amplify the voices of minorities within our own community. We should harness this moment for inclusion and understanding. Most importantly, we should undertake considerable outreach and strive for all Jews to be reflected in our community at large.


Zachary Zarnett-Klein
Zachary Zarnett-Klein

Zachary Zarnett-Klein is a university student from Toronto. His passions include community involvement, civic engagement, and human rights.

BGU Palliative Care Centre Memorializes Kappy Flanders

Nov. 13, 2020 

By JANICE ARNOLD

MONTREAL—“I don’t beat around the bush. I can’t use all these euphemisms. In my book, people don’t pass away, they die.”

That memorable quote from Kappy Flanders summed up her unflinching attitude toward death. People retreat into vague terms because of fear, she believed, and avoidance of reality has meant that too many endure their final days without proper care.

Kappy Flanders
Kappy Flanders

Flanders, who died in June at age 81, devoted her last three decades as a volunteer to the improvement of palliative care, urging greater access and quality and, equally, dispelling misconceptions about what it is.

She endowed an academic chair in palliative medicine at McGill University in 1994, the first of its kind in North America, and was instrumental in the creation of the grassroots Council on Palliative Care in Montreal, a public education and advocacy group. She went on national initiatives.

Flanders cringed at “medical aid in dying,” insisting on calling it euthanasia. If there was adequate end-of-life care, relieving physical and psychic pain, doctors would not have to be put in the position of terminating lives, she contended.

The motivation for her activism was watching her husband Eric suffer for 18 months with the lung cancer that would kill him in 1991 in his 50s. Medical treatment was intense, but no professional support to ease the course of his illness was known to her in Montreal.

When her mother, who lived in Israel, died of cancer a couple of years later there, Flanders was impressed by the hospice approach that allowed her to die comfortably and peacefully.

In 2000, Flanders established the Eric M. Flanders Endowment Fund in Palliative Medicine at Ben-Gurion University of the Negev (BGU) to strengthen its nascent training in palliative care.

Flanders, who grew up in a Zionist family in London, England, remembered meeting David Ben-Gurion as a child. Her husband was a founder of the Canadian Associates of BGU in 1973 and its first president.

Two decades on, BGU has fulfilled Flanders’s vision. In October, it inaugurated the Kappy and Eric Flanders National Palliative Care Resource Centre, described as the first of its kind in Israel. It brings under one roof multidisciplinary academic education, practical training and research, as well as play an advocacy role.

Dr. Pesach Shvartzman, director of the palliative unit at Soroka Medical Centre and chair of the health ministry’s committee to establish national standards in palliative care, is the centre’s director.

“We believe this centre will help make palliative care much more accessible throughout Israel, just as Kappy would have wanted,” he said.

The centre, in whose development Flanders took a keen interest up to her death, was made possible with a significant donation from the Prosserman family of Toronto. Ron Prosserman said at the virtual dedication, that it was his longtime friend, Dr. Vivian Rakoff, former head of psychiatry at the University of Toronto, who died earlier in the month, who suggested the gift.

Flanders’s three daughters, Susan, Judith and Elle, said the centre is a fitting tribute to their mother’s work from which she never flagged. 

“When she believed something should happen, she made it happen,” said Susan of her mother, who inducted into the Order of Canada in 2015.

In addition to Shvartzman, the centre’s founding members are Drs. Yoram Singer and Mark Clarfield, both originally from Canada, and Tali Samson. The centre also has an international advisory board that includes Dr. Bernard Lapointe, chief of palliative care at Montreal’s Jewish General Hospital and until recently, holder of the Flanders chair in palliative medicine at McGill.

“Kappy was a connector, bringing together volunteers, professionals, intellectuals, artists and leaders, all around the cause of quality end-of-life care,” said Lapointe, who called her a mentor.

Flanders died – not passed away – the way she wanted for herself, and everyone: at home, surrounded by her family.