Delegates from dozens of countries gathered nearly 25 year ago in Stockholm, Sweden for the Stockholm International Forum, where they affirmed a global commitment to combatting racism, antisemitism, ethnic hatred, and ignorance of history. That meeting sparked what became a 16-year open process to develop much-needed anti-racism tools, including the creation of the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA) working definition of antisemitism.

Antisemitism is generally understood as a certain perception of Jews that veers into hatred, but specific examples can be helpful for those seeking to apply policies in the workplace, codes in educational environments, or standards for government funding programs. The IHRA definition, which is non-legally binding, seeks to fill the void by including both general principles and specific examples. It has struck a chord with endorsements from 45 countries and hundreds of provincial and local governments. And Canada has been a leader in this regard: the federal government adopted it in 2019 as part of its anti-racism strategy and the majority of provinces have followed suit with their own support measures.

Combatting antisemitism should not be controversial, yet a new Canadian effort to provide governments, businesses, and schools with greater clarity on implementing the IHRA definition has sparked opposition from the NDP and even outrage in some quarters. The response to a Canadian Heritage handbook released last week, which walks through the antisemitism definition and provides tangible recent examples, implausibly warns of shadowy influences and suppressed political speech. In doing so, it demonstrates the critical need for the initiative that was launched by Prime Minister Justice Trudeau in 2022 and enjoys wide support in the Jewish community.

While critics raise the spectre of censorship, the reality is that most of the examples in the IHRA definition cite centuries-old sources of Jew hate. The eleven illustrative examples largely fall into four categories: (i) common tropes that dehumanize Jews, rely on fantastical claims about secretive global power, or suggest Jews are the source of the world’s ills; (ii) Holocaust denial or invocation of Nazi comparisons (iii) claims of dual loyalty or holding Jews responsible for the actions of the State of Israel; (iv) denying Jewish people a right to self-determination or applying a double standard to Israel.

To be clear, the IHRA definition and the government handbook emphasize that “criticism of Israel similar to that levelled against any other country cannot be regarded as antisemitic.” In other words, there is ample space to criticize Israel and the suggestion that the definition renders any criticism of the Jewish state as antisemitic is plainly wrong.

It appears the claims of censorship reflect a desire to avoid being tarnished by the taboo of antisemitism. Indeed, in recent months, Canada has witnesses an unprecedented outbreak of antisemitism with claims that Jews or Zionists wield inordinate power or that Canadian Jews are responsible for the actions of the Israeli government. It is not uncommon to see loathsome comparisons of the Star of David to Nazi symbols in Canadian protests or calls for the expulsion of Israel from the United Nations while those advocates remain silent about authoritarian governments with abysmal human rights track records involving women, children, and numerous fundamental freedoms.

The government’s antisemitism handbook does not censor or restrict these views, no matter how wrong or harmful they may be. It does not have the power of law and nor pass judgement on what constitutes hate speech in Canada. Rather, despite protestations to the contrary, it forces those that engage in this speech to grapple with the uncomfortable reality that it is viewed by both the vast majority of the Jewish community and dozens of governments around the world as antisemitic.

Campus and workplace codes are filled with policies designed to create inclusive environments that even guard against micro-aggressions, which may subtly or unintentionally express a prejudiced attitude toward a member of a marginalized group. In developing those codes, few would consider excluding indigenous Canadians or persons of colour from providing their reality and perspectives on what constitutes discriminatory or harmful conduct. Yet when it comes to antisemitism, some insist that the Jewish community’s concerns should be ignored or hint at nefarious ulterior motives.

Simply put, there is a meta double-standard at work, which applies not only to the underlying issue of identifying antisemitic conduct but also to the very manner in which society endeavours to combat it. The government is right to ignore the critics, whose response to the handbook ironically makes a compelling case for its acceptance and adoption.