Canada as a case study in transnational repression of Gaza critics

The last official correspondence I received in 2025 came from the Law Society of Ontario—informing me, once again, that a complaint against me had been dismissed, with no action taken.

The regulator noted that my statements concerned political matters of public importance, that lawyers retain constitutional rights to express their views, and that controversial or even objectionable speech does not, without more, amount to professional misconduct under the Law Society’s regulatory framework.

This was the third such complaint against me to the Law Society since Oct. 7, 2023. All three were dismissed.

The complaints followed a familiar script. I was accused of anti-Semitism for criticizing Israel’s conduct in Gaza. Of promoting hate for describing Israeli actions using the language of international law. Of being harassing or discriminatory for expressing views that challenge a powerful state and its defenders. Another claimed that my social media commentary “tarnished” the legal profession.

One of the complaints came from a prominent Jewish organization that publicly brands itself as a human rights group. It urged regulatory action on the basis that criticism of Israel itself constituted anti-Semitism and professional misconduct. The Law Society rejected the claim outright. No breach was found. No action was taken.

None of the complaints survived scrutiny.

Still, they kept coming.

That pattern matters. Not because my experience is unique—it isn’t—but because it illustrates how professional and regulatory processes are increasingly being weaponized to silence critics of Israel, even when those critics are operating squarely within the law.

It would be a mistake to treat these complaints as isolated acts of overreach or the handiwork of a few overzealous individuals. What I encountered was not random. It was part of a broader, increasingly coordinated campaign to discipline, deter and silence dissent—one that is now openly acknowledged and even celebrated by some of its architects.

That campaign was on full display in December 2025 at a Washington gala hosted by the Jerusalem Post. Addressing the audience, Liora Rez, founder and executive director of the group StopAntisemitism, described what she called a fight the Jewish community “didn’t choose,” but one her organization was now fully engaged in. Since Oct. 7, she said, StopAntisemitism has “featured” more than 1,000 individuals it labels anti-Semites—not “quietly documented,” but “publicly exposed, clearly and with evidence.”

The consequences, Rez made clear, were the point. “About 400 of these haters have faced consequences, including layoffs, suspensions and bans,” she said, adding that hundreds more cases remain under investigation across universities, corporations, unions, nonprofits and even government agencies. Her conclusion was blunt: “Jew hatred has a price.”

This was not a warning. It was a declaration of strategy.

What goes largely unexamined in such rhetoric is how elastic the definition of “anti-Semitism” has become—and how readily it now encompasses lawyers, academics, journalists and students whose actual offence is opposing Israeli state policy, invoking international law, or advocating for Palestinian human rights. In this framework, criticism becomes hatred, dissent becomes misconduct and punishment becomes “accountability.”

Seen in that light, the complaints against me begin to look less like aberrations and more like one small node in a much larger enforcement ecosystem—one that relies not on debate or persuasion, but on institutional pressure, reputational harm and the quiet hope that others will learn to stay silent.

That ecosystem now extends well beyond complaints and professional discipline. In the U.S., advocacy groups have recently pressured Amazon and other distributors to block or escrow payments connected to a forthcoming book by Francesca Albanese, the United Nations special rapporteur on the occupied Palestinian territories. The justification is not that the book, When the World Sleeps: Stories, Words, and Wounds of Palestine, incites violence or hatred, but that its author—whose work accuses Israel of grave international law violations—should not be allowed to earn from her writing at all. The logic is familiar: if dissent cannot be defeated on the merits, it should be made materially costly.

The effects are already visible in Canada. University administrators suspend or investigate faculty. Students face discipline. Events are cancelled. Employers receive dossiers. Professional regulators are pressured. The goal is rarely to win on the merits. It is to exhaust, intimidate and isolate.

Regulatory complaints, employer pressure and public shaming campaigns function as a modern form of censorship. They are slow, reputationally damaging and emotionally draining. Even when they fail, they succeed in sending a message to others: this could happen to you.

The irony is that many of those being targeted are themselves committed to fighting anti-Semitism—alongside Islamophobia, anti-Black racism and all forms of hate. What they reject is the idea that a foreign government’s actions must be insulated from criticism through fear.

This approach also corrodes the fight against real anti-Semitism. When every critique of Israeli policy is labelled hatred, the word loses meaning. When human rights advocacy is framed as bigotry, genuine anti-Semitism becomes harder, not easier, to confront. Jewish safety is not enhanced by silencing others; it is undermined by the erosion of shared democratic norms.

Canada should be paying attention. Our universities, professional bodies and public institutions must decide whether they will become instruments of intimidation or guardians of free inquiry. Regulators must resist being conscripted into political battles. Employers must stop outsourcing disciplinary authority to online campaigns.

And the rest of us must stop pretending this is about civility.

It is about power—who gets to speak, who gets to define harm, and who pays the price for dissent.

Silence may be the intended outcome. It should not be the result.

Courtesy:The Washington Report on Middle East Affairs