A stooped figure, eyes dark and feral, stared out from the sign. He wore the traditional garb of an Orthodox Jewish man – a kippah and long sidelocks – but the image felt deliberately twisted, animalistic. It was one of many, professionally made and impossible to ignore, appearing on the streets of Toronto.
Another sign depicted a weeping Orthodox Jew, his features grotesquely exaggerated, pleading for help from the United States. Beside him, a figure waved an Israeli flag marked with a single, chilling word: “ELIMINATED.” The imagery wasn’t accidental; it was a calculated assault.
The hatred extended beyond visual caricature. One sign, displayed in Arabic, declared a terrifying intent: “We will knock on the gates of Heaven with the skulls of Zionists.” The chilling message left no room for ambiguity – it was a direct threat against Jewish people.
A masked individual, cloaked in a Palestinian keffiyeh, held aloft a Jewish Star of David. But this wasn’t a symbol of faith; it was defiled, crawling with rats. The deliberate degradation echoed a dark and disturbing history, a visual language of dehumanization.
These weren’t isolated incidents. They appeared during the al-Quds weekend, a period already known for its displays of animosity. Uniformed police officers were present near the rallies, yet remained largely inactive, observing the unfolding spectacle of hate.
The use of such imagery wasn’t new. Joseph Goebbels, the Nazi Minister of Propaganda, understood its power. He called antisemitic images “a sharp spiritual weapon for war,” recognizing their ability to incite and inflame. Adolf Hitler himself embraced depictions of Jews as vermin, solidifying the hateful narrative in his book, Mein Kampf.
The al-Quds event originated in 1979 with Ayatollah Khomeini’s declaration of Jews as “godless, bloodsucking Zionists.” The rhetoric, steeped in centuries-old prejudice, found fertile ground for expression. Despite calls for intervention, a court refused an injunction to stop the event, citing “insufficient evidence” of wrongdoing.
Yet, the evidence was undeniable. The al-Quds rallies have consistently been linked to unlawful assembly, intimidation, threats, vandalism, and the wilful promotion of hatred – all criminal offenses. The signs displayed in north Toronto, regardless of their location relative to the main rally, were a blatant and undeniable expression of that hatred.
Canada’s Criminal Code explicitly prohibits hate propaganda, including “any writing, sign or visible representation” that promotes hatred against an identifiable group. The Supreme Court has affirmed the potential for “substantial harm” stemming from such propaganda, warning of racial and religious tension, even violence.
Images, not just words, can be instruments of hate. Willful promotion of hatred is not protected under the Charter of Rights and Freedoms. The law is clear, and it applies directly to the hateful displays witnessed in Toronto. It’s time for that law to be enforced.
Recent changes to the Criminal Code aim to simplify the process of laying hate charges, a positive step. However, policing remains a municipal responsibility, and prosecutions fall to the province. The onus is now on Toronto Police to identify those responsible for displaying the Nazi-inspired signs.
The Attorney General must swiftly approve prosecutions for the promotion of hatred. The response must be decisive and immediate. Yet, even as these legal steps are crucial, a disturbing silence has fallen from a key figure: Toronto’s Mayor. She has failed to even visit synagogues recently targeted by gunfire.
In the face of a surging wave of antisemitism – a crisis that has drawn the attention of the Israeli President – the Mayor has been conspicuously absent. Her inaction is a profound disappointment, a dereliction of duty. While the provincial government has shown more resolve, it must now act decisively.
The world is watching, as President Herzog has stated. History is watching. We are being judged on our response to this blatant display of hatred. Failure to act now will result in a judgment we cannot afford.
