Canadian Jews, dual/divided loyalties, and the Tebbit "cricket" test.

Weinfeld, Morton

Abstract

This article explores the issue of dual or divided Ioyalties for Canadian Jews, with reference to ties to Canada on the one hand, and Israel and the Jewish community on the other. The article contextualizes this issue within two academic literatures, which in recent years have had very little interconnection. The first is the general literature dealing with diasporic studies and transnationalism. The second is the literature dealing with modern Jewish studies. This second literature comprises the social scientific study of contemporary Jewry, and intellectual debates on Zionism and Jewish peoplehood. It is claimed these debates have relevance for many Canadian diasporic groups today, and more so in the post-9/11 period. A concluding section Iooks at how Jewish communal leaders in Canada wrestle with a version of the "cricket" test, coined by British parliamentarian Norman Tebbit, when asked which team they would support in a soccer final match, Israel or Canada. The pattern of responses confirms an ongoing discomfort and indeed ambivalence in making such choices linking identity and Ioyalty, for Jews and likely for other groups as well.

Resume

Cet article porte sur la problematique de la double loyaute, soit celle, divisee, des liens des Juifs canadiens avec, d'une part, le Canada et, d'autre part, Israel et la communaute juive. Nous abordons ici cette question dans le contexte de deux types d'ecrits universitaires qui, dans les dernieres annees, ont rarement ete interrelies. Le premier des deux est dans le domaine de la recherche generale qui traite des etudes sur la diaspora ainsi que du transnationalisme, le deuxieme dans celui des publications se rapportant aux etudes juives modernes. Celui-ci comprend l'etude socioscientifique de la communaute juive contemporaine ainsi que les debats intellectuels sur le sionisme et la notion de peuple juif. D'aucuns alleguent que ces derniers sont pertinents pour plusieurs groupes canadiens de la diaspora, specialement depuis les attentats du 11 septembre 2001. Nous concluons cet article en examinant comment les representants de la communaute juive au Canada composent avec une variante du 'Test du cricket', expression forgee par le parlementaire britannique Norman Tebbit, alors qu'on leur demandait quelle equipe ils soutiendraient dans un match de soccer final entre Israel et le Canada. L'ensemble des reponses temoigne d'un malaise continu, et, de fait, d'une certaine ambivalence Iorsqu'il s'agit de faire de tels choix qui mettent en jeu a la fois l'identite et la loyaute, que ce soit pour des Juifs, ou, aussi bien, pour tout autre groupe.

DIASPORAS AND DUAL/DIVIDED LOYALTIES IN CANADA AND IN GENERAL

This paper will explore the controversial issue of dual or competing/conflicting loyalty, with reference to minorities in general, to Jews, and to the Canadian Jewish case in particular. To illustrate some of the themes explored, the last section will examine how a small sample of Canadian Jewish leaders wrestles with a Canadian version of the "Tebbit cricket test." (This test wondered whom immigrant minorities in England would support in a cricket match between their current country and ancestral homeland.) This study will analyze the loyalty issue within the broader frame of the relevance--or irrelevance--of the Jewish case in the broad field of diasporic or transnational studies.

Sheffer distinguishes between dual and divided loyalties (2003, 225-26). The former, inevitable among immigrant or ethno-religious minorities, are relatively benign. In some cases, they can lead to difficult choices between competing cultural or social obligations. In others, they can offer an enriching set of cultural and communal options, including creative hybrid cultural contexts. But they ought not to be confused with the possibilities of divided loyalties, with their potential national security implications. In general the evidence suggests that interest by Canadian immigrants and minorities in a homeland's welfare or policies does not impede political integration or participation (Black 2011; Black and Leithner 1988; Wong 2007/08). This could be considered as good news. But these studies generally refer to routine diasporic instances, and the research focuses on variables such as voting rates. This research less commonly looks at the content or objectives of the political participation of minorities. Thus, political participation to persuade the Canadian polity to accept, say, seemingly illiberal gender practices, or to re orient a foreign policy, would be far more challenging. Moreover, this transnational connection can become particularly problematic during the occasional periods of acute geo-political tension or conflict between Canada and that homeland, when dual loyalties can change to divided ones.

The possibility of dual or divided loyalty in cases of real, perceived, or potential conflict between the country of residence and another homeland or religious commitment, has long been used to stigmatize and seriously victimize minorities, and notably Jews. The argument is that ties to a homeland by immigrants or their descendants, or to a wider diaspora, inevitably weaken the commitments in times of tension to Canada, its values and sense of national and social cohesion, in this view, diasporic minorities might engage in a range of activities opposed to the so called "national interest." These can range from legitimate domestic mobilization and aggressive lobbying to promote a specific domestic or foreign policy, to unlawful cases of espionage, treason, terrorism, or acting as a "fish column" generally (Granatstein 2007).

These issues are, of course, not new to Canada. During World War One, "enemy aliens," notably Ukrainians and Germans, suffered abuse, prejudice, discrimination, and internment in Canada (Kordan 2002). Better known are the tribulations of those Canadians of Japanese, German, and Italian ancestry during World War Two (Adachi 1976; Hilmer et al. 1988; Iacovetta et al. 2000). These cases today are most often remembered for their clear racist undertones, as wed as for the mass violation of civil liberties of Canadian citizens, notably Japanese Canadians, And, of course, the shadow of these events has hung over the response, in Canada and other Western nations, to the events of 9/11 and the general phenomenon of actual or thwarted terrorist incidents associated with militant Islamist or other organizations in the West. These issues are often framed analytically within the competing discourses of national security on the one hand, and Islamophobia on the other, similar to our understanding of the violations of liberty during the two World Wars (Arat-Koc 2006; Youssif 2008). Both a concern for national security, and a concern for equality and the right to dissent, are now considered legitimate, and indeed must be balanced.

The holding of dual citizenship is growing in Canada and the West generally (Bloemraad 2006). But this has become suspect in some sections of Canadian society. Many Canadians opposed using Canadian funds and resources to repatriate absentee dual Canadian and Lebanese citizens caught during the 2006 clash between Israel and Hizbollah (Nyers 2010). More generally, even respected political leaders have faced some suspicion or skepticism for holding dual citizenship. Stephane Dion, former leader of the Liberal party, Michaelle Jean, former Governor General of Canada, and Thomas Mulcair, NDP and parliamentary opposition leader, each have held French citizenship. These dual citizenships provoked significant press commentary, much of it critical (Jedwab 2007/2008). Indeed, Ms, Jean renounced her French citizenship prior to becoming Governor General. In any event, some of the skepticism concerning dual citizenship, with an undertone of doubt about possible conflicting loyalties, is captured by the recent comment of Prime Minister Harper, referring to the Mulcair case: "In my case, I am very clear: I'm a Canadian and only a Canadian" (Davis 2012).

The dominant frame tot the study of these cases of alleged dual loyalty has been one of victimization and injustice. Less attention has been paid to the challenges faced and decisions taken by these suspect minorities themselves and their Canadian communal leaders, in these delicate situations. Thus, an examination of the situation of Japanese, German, and Italian Canadian communities before, during, and, most interestingly, after World War Two has revealed findings that are more nuanced than the binary of national security vs. unfair victimization. To very varying degrees, Canadians of these ancestries shared sympathies with the fascist or nationalist homeland governments in the 1920s and 1930s (Bassler 1999; Granatstein and Johnson 1988, 108-109; Principe 1999). These sympathies, in fact, only became problematic with the outbreak of World War Two (Massa and Weinfeld 2010).

After the war, these groups and their communal organizations and leaders adopted two postures to achieve full reintegration back into the Canadian social fabric. At first the communities emphasized rather deferentially the imperatives of re establishing their acceptance as patriotic Canadians, and reintegrating fully into Canadian society. Any thought of reparations or apologies was premature, and indeed, inconceivable in the first three post-war decades. As one Italian Canadian leader put it, "We needed to prove we were good Canadians." This posture reflects the prevailing social and political inequalities, and constitutes an accomodationist paradigm. In contrast, the subsequent attempt to seek compensation and apologies for these wartime injustices relied on a legalistic and more assertive and even militant posture grounded in more entrenched notions of equal rights (Massa and Weinfeld 2010). The second approach, which reflects an equal rights paradigm, is sustained by the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms and the general embrace of equal citizenship for all. It now dominates the discourse of all minorities.

THE JEWISH CASE

This militancy has also been embraced strongly by diasporic Jewish communities. A legacy of the Holocaust has been a determination for militant opposition to anti Semitism in all its forms, crystallized in the motto of "Never Again." This implies learning from the mistakes of the past, when Jewish organizations in the West and Canada--were allegedly insufficiently militant in pressuring their governments for rescue and resettlement of Jewish refugees before, during, and after World War Two (Abella and Troper 1982). For Canadian Jews, it has been argued that this period of new self-confidence as equal citizens began in the 1960s. It was reflected in communal opposition to Canadian neo-Nazi movements, in the emergence of a vocal movement for freedom for Soviet Jews, and in strong and public support for Israel before and after the 1967 war (Troper 2010).

The Holocaust has set subconscious limits to the degree of loyalty some Jews can maintain to their host societies. This explains the visceral support of so many diaspora Jews against perceived threats to Israel's survival. They recall the gathering storm before World War Two, appeasement of the Nazi threat, and the "abandonment of the Jews" (Wyman 1984). For many Jews the weeks before June 1967 seemed to be a replay of those events. The lesson learned was not to rely on others, but to take unilateral, assertive, or pre-emptive action--whether in the June 1967 war, the raid on Entebbe in 1976, organizing for the emigration of Soviet and Ethiopian Jews in distress, the Israeli air raid on the Iraqi nuclear reactor in Osirak in 1981, or the alleged Israeli attack on a secret Syrian nuclear facility in 2007. And at the same time, absolute commitment or loyalty to an accepting, comfortable diasporic hostland can be mitigated for some Jews by the gnawing subliminal post-Holocaust question: Even if highly remote, is there any chance that "it" could happen here? For some this is paranoia; for others it is prudence.

In setting the context for the discussion of the Canadian Jewish case, this paper reviews two literatures. The first is the extensive writing on diasporas, transnationalism, and globalization. Discussions of contemporary cases of dual loyalty are well situated within this new framework. The second literature is that dealing with the Jewish case, reflected in the field of modern Jewish Studies. It is claimed that one can situate diaspora Jewry and suspicions of dual/divided loyalty as an important case study of relevance to the areas of diasporic studies, transnationalism, and globalization in general, more than is currently the case (See Sheffer 2003, oh. 9).

In an earlier time, the Jewish case was indeed seen as central in these areas. The entry on "diaspora" in the 1937 edition of the Encyclopedia of Social Sciences was written by Simon Dubnow. Dubnow was one of the major specialists in the field of Jewish history, and specifically the history of Eastern European Jewry. Moreover, he was also well known as a supporter of the value of diaspora Jewish life, as a non-Zionist or and Zionist option for Jews in the modern world. This view argued that for Jews in Eastern Europe, a preferred solution to their "Jewish problem" would be remaining in eastern Europe and developing a largely secular and progressive Jewish identity rooted in Yiddish as a language of daily life and culture, with a certain degree of autonomy and self government in relevant regions. His entry was about five pages in length. It devoted about half of a page to a discussion of the Armenian and Greek diaspora cases; the rest of the article focused on the Jewish ease. The Jewish case was then recognized as archetypical (Dubnow 1937; Safran 2005).

The Jewish case was still seen as important, though far from central, as the field of diasporic studies emerged in the 1990s. In one major overview, the Jewish case was recognized as historically relevant but with less contemporary salience: "... scholars of diaspora recognize that the Jewish tradition is at the heart of any definition of the concept. Yet if it is necessary to take full account of this tradition, it is also necessary to transcend it" (Cohen 1997, 21). And indeed, the origin of the Jewish conception of diaspora is the experience of exile, and hence suffering and the imperative of return to Zion. This can be seen as somewhat limiting given the range of contemporary experiences, even that of Jews who have found in North America a far more congenial diasporic option (Vertovec 2009, 129-135). In any case, the centrality of the Jewish case has continued to erode. This disengagement has been more pronounced in European work. The following examples of conferences, institutes, and books are illustrative: Every year a conference dealing with Diasporas and Multiculturalism is held by the Centre for Research on Nationalism, Ethnicity, and Multiculturalism, (CRONEM) at the University of Surrey, England, Among the 180 papers and posters at the 2009 conference, attended by the author, not one, at least as judging by the titles, dealt with Jews, or Israelis--not in Britain, or the Middle East, or anywhere. In the fag of 2011, there was an academic conference in Warsaw, also attended by this author, sponsored by International Migration, Integration, and Social Cohesion in Europe (IMISCOE). Scores of papers were presented, and none mentioned--by title--anything relating to Jews or Israelis. And around the same time, also in September of 2011, the 16th annual International Metropolis Conference, dealing as always with issues of migration, integration, and diversity, took place in the Azores, at the other end of Europe, From an estimated 350 presentations, only one dealt explicitly with the Jewish case (comparing Moroccan Jews in France, Quebec, and Israel.)

The Centre on Migration, Policy, and Society (COMPAS) is a respected research institute associated with Oxford University. As of this writing in 2012, COMPAS had published in total 93 working papers. None dealt explicitly with any Jewish/Israeli case. Some of the papers and writings, notably by then Centre director Steven Vertovec, did address the political complications arising for homelands and host lands from the proliferation of diasporas (Vertovec 2006; 2009). Two of the 93 working papers focus on issues of "diasporic engagement policies" and thus could deal with the political organization of diasporic communities, links to homelands, and potentially issues of dual or divided loyalties (Gamlen 2006; 2008). Indeed, Gamlen identified 70 states that have clear diaspora engagement policies. What is of note is that while Israel is listed as one of those 70 countries, at no point in these two working papers is there any discussion of the Jewish/Israeli diaspora, nor any item among the references in both papers that deals with the Jewish/Israeli case. Yet perhaps no country is so heavily invested in maintaining and analyzing links with a relevant diaspora than is Israel. No diasporic community has likely developed the extensive arrays of communal institutions--local, national, and international--as have Jews (Breton 1991; Elazar 1976).

As a final example of the marginality of the Jewish case, consider the edited book The Transnational Studies Reader, published by Routledge (Khagram and Levitt 2008). This reader includes 50 articles. They are all of high quality. Yet as seen in their titles, not one of these articles, many of them case studies, refers to Jews/Israelis in any way. So the field is perceived, as seen by many researchers and editors, as one in which the Jewish case is peripheral or irrelevant.

This kind of academic segregation seems not to exist to the same extent in Canada. The first major edited volume on the subject--Transnational Identities and Practices in Canada contains 13 chapters, and one of them does indeed deal with the Jewish case (Wong and Satzewich 2006). Moreover, a recent conference sponsored by the Canadian Ethnic Studies Association and the Association for Canadian Studies in the fall of 2011, on the 40th anniversary of Canadian Multiculturalism, featured 79 presentations, and three of those dealt with a Jewish topic. On the other hand, the two most recent national Canadian Metropolis conferences taken together, in 2012 and 2011, present a different picture. Out of hundreds of workshop and roundtable presentations, only one focused directly on the Jewish case, in Canada or elsewhere (See www.metropolis.net).

These examples do not represent a definitive analysis. But things have clearly changed. How does one explain this drifting of the Jewish case to the periphery and beyond, notably in the European case, but even in Canada? First, one should note that this marginalization can be round for all the older and established white, migrant groups. One explanation is simply that the European Jewish minority is much less numerous now that in the pre-1945 days (though there are still sizeable if shrinking communities in France, England, and Russia/Ukraine, and oddly enough, a growing one in Germany). And Jewish migration to Canada, while still significant, is far less numerous than for other non-white groups. Yet another is that the roster of current issues of concern to researchers in these areas, such as asylum seekers, Islamophobia, remittances, racism, discrimination and socio-economic inequalities, are no longer seen as issues relating to Jews. By contrast, most diasporic Jewish communities are majority non-immigrant, on average economically successful, and seen as white. And finally, the negative political assessments of Israel with regard to Palestine which prevail in much of European and Canadian academe may make the Jewish case ideologically less welcome.

SCHOLARSHIP ON THE JEWISH DIASPORA

In contrast to the broader scholarship described above, there is another literature which has addressed the issue of Jewish diasporas. Jewish diasporic communities are effectively studied as "polities" and this Jewish polity, which reflects a degree of cradle to grave institutional completeness, could almost be construed as being a 'Mate within a state" (Elazar 1976). This high degree of organizational density of the Jewish polity is explainable by two major reasons. First, Jews are both an ethnic/national/cultural group, and a religious group, which adds many dimensions of organizational complexity. And secondly, Jews have a 2000-year history where the vast majority of the group has had to survive as a diasporic minority, in many conditions.

This literature is divided into two subsets. One is located within the academic field of modern Jewish studies, and more directly, the social scientific study of contemporary Jewry. This sub-area involves rigorous social scientific study of diaspora Jewish communities, and links with Israel. Much of this work is produced by Jewish/Israeli scholars, and is published in general disciplinary social scientific outlets, or Jewish studies journals such as Contemporary Jewry, which is published by the Association for the Social Scientific Study of Jewry, and in scholarly books (e.g., Ben Rafael and Sternberg 2009, ch. 11-20). There are also many Jewish communal think tanks which routinely produce social scientific studies focusing directly on such issues, ranging from anti-Semitism to Jewish identity. As just one example, the Israeli-based Jewish People Planning Institute or JPPI, associated with the Jewish Agency for Israel, has produced a variety of papers and studies on precisely these areas, many data driven and social scientific (See www.jppi.org.il).

Consider the current "distancing debate;' which ponders whether and why younger American Jews might be distancing themselves from interest in and support for Israel. In part, this debate involves intellectual argument among the American Jewish "commentariat" (Beinart 2012). But in another form it can be followed more technically in the pages of Contemporary Jewry. A special issue in 2010 contained 24 articles written by social scientists. As another example, there are detailed social scientific analyses of the impacts of travel to Israel, notably from the Birthright program, on the future Jewish identities of young diaspora Jews (Saxe et al. 2009). Indeed, the Birthright program itself is unique among contemporary diasporic communities. In this program, funded mainly by Jewish philanthropists, young diaspora Jews aged 18-26 are offered heavily subsidized ten-day trips to Israel. It is not clear one can find for many other diasporas and homelands as detailed a debate about the ties between the two, communal efforts to promote those ties, and social scientific analyses driven by similar high quality data.

An example of this type of research, which stands in stark contrast to the Routledge volume described above, is a large edited work published by Brill (Ben Rafael and Sternberg 2009). This book has 34 chapters. But ten deal with the Jewish case. This is not surprising, since 22 of the 40 authors work at Israeli universities, or on Jewish/Israeli topics. And thus we see another example of academic segregation. The earlier mentioned Routledge reader has 66 authors. Both volumes deal precisely with social scientific studies of diasporas and transnationalism. The subject matter is identical. Yet the two books have only one author in common.

Within this first subset there is another strain of social scientific analysis which relates to diaspora Jewish political behavior and to links with Israel, and this is political analyses of the so-called Israel or Jewish lobby. This work can be subsumed as part of the research on ethnic politics. Some of this has the clear perspective that the activities of this lobby are harmful to policy-making. A common American perspective argues that this lobby is excessively powerful, promotes the interests of Israel over the United States, and, in general, distorts Middle East policy (Mearsheimer and Walt 2007). Indeed, there have also been studies of the Canadian Jewish or Israel lobby, and the policy activities of the Canadian Jewish polity (Taras and Goldberg 1989; Goldberg 1990). Some of these relate to Canadian Middle East policy, including the functioning of the Canada Israel Committee (Barry 2010; Sasley and Jacoby 2007; Taras and Weinfeld 2010). One detailed study compared the Jewish and Ukrainian polities and their efforts on the issue of alleged Nazi war criminals in Canada (Troper and Weinfeld 1988).

There is a second subset of relevant literature on the Jewish diasporic case. This literature is not strictly academic, and not social scientific. It can be round in countless books and intellectual and communal Jewish publications. It has been developed mainly by philosophers, historians, professors, intellectuals, rabbis of all persuasions, diasporic Jewish communal leaders, and elected political leaders in the diaspora and Israel. This is the literature which has evolved as part of the early debates on Zionism, in the late 19th and 20th century (for an overview, see Hertzberg 1969.) It has been reshaped in the post-war period as the impact of Israel on diasporic Jewish identity, and indeed on the actual and desirable nature of the linkage between diaspora Jewry and Israel, including conceptions about post-Zionism. This literature is in part polemical and in part analytical.

These debates on Zionism--about whether Jews would be better off in their ancestral homeland or living as a diasporic minority--in turn flow out of debates about the Jewish encounter with modernity, with liberal democracy, and with modern anti-Semitism. These were historically interconnected and understood as "the Jewish Question." (This question is, in fact, a precursor of the multicultural dilemma of how liberal democratic societies can remain rooted in equal individual rights while at the same time recognizing group rights in one form or another.) It spawned various answers, from assimilationism to diaspora nationalism to socialism/communism, and to Zionism in all its varieties. These debates on pre-state and post-state Zionism can fill bookcases, beginning with all the various Zionist and anti-Zionist theoreticians. One element in these debates, certainly in the democratic West, related to dual loyalties. In the post-1948 period this was crystallized in a famous exchange of letters between Israeli Prime Minister David Ben-Gurion and Jacob Blaustein, head of the American Jewish Committee, beginning in 1950. Much and perhaps most of the communal leadership of American Jewry in the period around 1948 was non-Zionist or anti-Zionist. They were concerned that the establishment of Israel might raise concerns about dual loyalty, and thus hamper the struggle for American Jews for full acceptance in their new homeland. Blaustein was concerned to clarify the exact nature of the link between diaspora Jewry and the new state of Israel. Blaustein was a non-Zionist, though supportive of the state of Israel, and wanted to clarify to Ben-Gurion that American Jews' first loyalties were and would remain with the United States. Israel would not be interfering in the life of American Jewry, and vice versa (Liebman 1974).

This debate on Zionism was eventually superseded after Israel's independence by one dealing with Israel-diaspora relations, which is also ideological and prescriptive as much as analytical (Beilin 2000; Hazony et al. 2006). The vast majority of Jews in the liberal democratic West felt no need to consider emigrating to Israel--returning to Zion. Most recently, this debate has addressed the concept of Jewish "peoplehood/' This idea of the Jews as a people is rooted in the Bible, first in the Old Testament, where Jews are described first and foremost as a nation, or as a collection of tribes. Subsequently, Jews in Palestine were part of a Kingdom. And with the expulsion by the Romans 2000 years ago, they became transnational. Today this focus on Jews as a people is reflected in such institutes as the JPPI, in Jewish think tank reports, and in many scholarly volumes such as Jewish Peoplehood: Change and Challenge (Revivi and Kopelwitz 2008). The premise underlying these debates is generally that Jewish peoplehood (in the transnational sense) exists and is desirable, and that there will be intense interaction between Israel and the diaspora. So much for the Ben-Gurion-Blaustein agreement. But challenges which undermine either the Jewishness of the diaspora or the bonds with Israel can weaken this sense of peoplehood, and there is a strong assumption they be met through forms of international Jewish public policy. The world-wide Jewish polity today operates on the premise that Jews have an interdependence of fate, and thus a transnational responsibility for each other. For many Jewish communal leaders this dates back to a rabbinic injunction that kol yisrael arevim zeh ba-zeh, or "all Israel are bound up one with another." Thus Jewish organizations are concerned not only with the welfare of Israel, but also of Jewish communities in distress everywhere, most recently in the Soviet Union or Ethiopia. And they will now press all those concerns, as effectively as possible, even in the face of governmental resistance. What seems clear is that the suspect issue of dual loyalty, and the more benign notion of solidarity and mutual responsibility, are two sides of the same coin.

Points of contact between the general diasporic literature, and the two subsets of the Jewish diasporic literature, are virtually non-existent. Some analysts of diasporas and transnationalism with Israeli ties, who also focus on the Jewish case, are exceptions (Sheffer 2003; Shain 2002). But it is clear that the issues under discussion for the Jewish diaspora--the debates on Zionism, Israel, and Jewish peoplehood--are very similar to issues which have arisen and will likely arise for all other diasporic and transnational communities, in Canada and elsewhere. Almost all these diasporic groups seek to strike a balance between some form of communal cohesion and cultural maintenance on the one hand, and equal participation and integration into the host society on the other. Of course that balance will differ for different groups, and in different contexts. But given their long and varied diasporic experience, the Jewish case may be a useful and still relevant template, since they have managed to minimize tradeoffs in both those objectives. It seems certainly worthy of inclusion in the broader conversation. In Canada, for example, the Canadian Jewish Congress, and the weekly Canadian Jewish News, were models for similar efforts by other minority groups (Weinfeld 2001, 205-06). The Jewish Community Center, or JCC--large buildings including pools, gyms, auditoria and smaller rooms, and cafeterias--built on the YMHA and YMCA model, was developed as a post-war response to challenges to the maintenance of Jewish identity in American suburbia. Yet the JCC also served as a model for the planners of the controversial Muslim Community Center proposed to be built close to ground zero in NYC. In the words of the organizer: "The Cordoba Center and its programs will be modeled after the 92nd St. Y" (Cheng and Barquero 2010). Moreover, the international Jewish polity includes quasi-political organizations such as the World Jewish Congress, or the International Association of Jewish Parliamentarians, which seek to defend and promote Jewish concerns. Taken as a whole, this extensive national and international Jewish polity may parallel or prefigure developments for other diasporic communities.

THE JEWISH CASE AND DUAL/DIVIDED LOYALTIES

The Jewish tradition as represented in the Bible reveals how the allegation of dual/divided loyalty was a primary source of anti-Semitism. The very first example of "recorded" anti-Semitism, it can be argued, is the chilling command by Pharaoh in Exodus 1:10, "Come let us deal wisely with them, lest they multiply, and if war break out they join our enemies and fight against us...." So this foundational myth of anti-Semitism is not based on an), assumption of Jewish racial inferiority, or religious error, but on a fifth column-like fear of suspect loyalty. This theme is repeated throughout the ancient rabbinic literature, when Jews, like all minorities, lived in places where they had no rights. Following the expulsion of most Jews in Palestine in 70 AD, the accomodationist paradigm, rooted in inequality, shaped Jewish responses in the entire pre-modern period. The), survived only on sufferance. Thus the famous Talmudic dictum of "dina de'malchuta dina" states succinctly that "the laws of the kingdom in which you live are the laws" (Nedarim 3:3). Jews were strongly advised to obey the laws of the state, and not challenge them. Or as one finds in Jeremiah 29:7, "Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare." In this same spirit, one finds today in most North American and British synagogues formal and sincere prayers for the welfare of the host country and its rulers. These prayers can be contrasted with the line from the play Fiddler on the Roof, where the Rabbi of the endangered town is asked if there is a blessing for the Czar, and he replies: "May God bless and keep the Czar ... far away from us!" It is ironic that this prayer for the state is recited alongside a prayer for the welfare of the state of Israel! In fact the version of this prayer for Israel used in many orthodox congregations includes an expression of longing for the Jews of the diaspora to return to Zion--a case of competing loyalties? At any rate, this deferential approach made good sociological sense.

This emphasis on deference and obedience begins to change in the modern period, in the 17th and 18th centuries, for Jews and other minorities. Over centuries of struggle, religious and other minorities began to acquire equal civil and political rights in the Western liberal democracies. By the beginning of the 21st century, the equal rights paradigm is ascendant. Minorities now seek to integrate as equals into host/majority societies, while retaining to the degree they wish, identities and ties linked to other traditions or former homelands. Synthesizing these two objectives poses a challenge to all liberal-democratic diverse societies, whether or not they are officially "multicultural." This synthesis proves difficult enough when the issues at hand are cultural differences or economic inequalities. Political differences are far more challenging. Liberal theorists argue that, in fact, competing rights of individuals, groups, and the liberal state can be accommodated (Taylor and Guttmann 1994; Kymlicka 1998). Perhaps. But this accommodation is certainly most difficult when conditions of geopolitical conflict arise, with a real or perceived national security dimension. This has been the case for Quebecois on conscription and national unity debates, for First Nations as seen in the assertion of self-government, and for immigrant minority groups as seen during both world wars. In general, minorities, as equal citizens, have the right to dissent from, challenge, and attempt to change government policy. Yet this exercise of rights may also alienate majority Canadians who support those policies. Thus members and leaders of minority cases must engage in trade-offs when negotiating an optimum response to such delicate oppositions.

For a long time, Jews have wrestled with the canard of divided loyalty as one of several motifs of modern anti-Semitism. This concern dates back in Canada at least to the debate about the acceptance of the Jewish Ezekiel Hart into the parliament of Lower Canada, following his election by the voters of Three Rivers in 1807. Newspapers of the day printed letters opposing his entry into the Assembly, and the fear of disloyalty was clearly an issue: "By what right can a Jew who is only worried about himself and his sect expect to look after the interest of the whole nation? And what reason is there to expect that such a man would work in the interests of the common good?"(Tulchinsky 1992, 25). With the rise of the Zionist movement, dual loyalty charges were the foundation of the conspiracy theories of The Protocols of the Elders of Zion and subsequent formulations. There was concern among Jewish elites in the liberal democratic West that the movement would give renewed impetus to the suspicions of dual loyalty, and thus fuel anti-Semitism and set back full integration. This was certainly the case for Jews in the Reform movement, where Jewish identity was conceived as religious rather than ethnic or national. Thus, in the United States, the prominent American Zionist (and Supreme Court Justice) Louis D. Brandeis sought to negate this danger by asserting that, in fact, Zionism and Americanism were symbiotically related and mutually reinforcing (Brandeis 1942). In Canada, where Reform Judaism was far weaker, the Zionist movement enjoyed greater support, and the fears of dual loyalty were relatively muted. Zionism became a central feature of Canadian Jewish identity (Tulchinsky 1992, xxii-xxiii; 1998, 145-146). As early as World War One, 300 Jewish Canadians volunteered for the Jewish legion, to fight alongside British soldiers to liberate Palestine from Ottoman rule. In 1947-49 a disproportionate number of Canadian Jews went to fight for an independent Jewish state (Bercuson 1984). And after the creation of the state, the percentage of Canadian Jews who emigrated to Israel (the Hebrew term is to make aliyah or go up, to Israel) was higher than in the United States, though comparable to or less than in Britain and South Africa (Statistical Abstract of Israel 2011). In short, the Canadian Jewish link to Israel is strong. About two thirds of Canadian Jews have visited Israel, compared to about one third of American Jews (Weinfeld 2001, 361).

This popular strength has had its organizational dimension. The Canada Israel Committee (CIC) was formed in 1970 by the Canadian Jewish Congress, B'nai B'rith, and the Canadian Zionist Federation. It was hoped the CIC would advance the case for Israel in a more professional manner, following the trauma of the 1967 war. In 2011 the Centre for Israel and Jewish Advocacy was created by Canadian Jewish communal leaders (and not without a good deal of controversy), as a replacement of the CIC and the venerable Canadian Jewish Congress, to further professionalize and centralize advocacy on behalf of Israel in Canada. This activism has created a context where Canadian Jewish ties to Israel have, on occasion, caused comment and criticism. Consider:

In 1988 then Minister of External Affairs Joe Clark caused a stir among Canadian Jewish supporters of Israel when he criticized alleged human rights violations by Israel during the first intifada, at a gathering of the CIC. This prompted a hostile reaction from his audience. And that in turn prompted press criticism, most strongly from the Toronto Star, which editorialized about Clark's comments: "It was also a necessary reminder to members of the Jewish community of Canada that they are citizens of Canada, not Israel." In a responding letter on March 15, two officials of the Ontario Canadian Jewish Congress replied: "The Star by questioning the loyalty of Jewish Canadians to Canada, has crossed the line from unrelenting criticism of Israeli government policy into anti-Semitism" (Weinfeld 2001, 259).

Subsequently, allegations or suspicions of dual loyalty were leveled against high profile Canadian Jews. Norman Spector, former chief of staff to Prime Minister Brian Mulroney, was appointed to be the first Jewish ambassador from Canada to Israel in 1992. (In fact, he was the first Jewish diplomat of any sort sent to Israel.) Following his appointment, an Arab group condemned the appointment of "a Zionist, who was close to the Bronfmans." And veteran foreign affairs analyst Peyton Lyon claimed that among the professional foreign affairs community there was resentment of "the lobbying that has distorted what they believe best for Canada, the United States, and even Israel" (Weinfeld 2001, 259-260).

The career of former Canadian Justice Minister Irwin Cotler also raised the issue. Cotler, a McGill Law professor for many years, was also a well-known Jewish communal leader, and had served as President of the Canadian Jewish Congress from 1980-83. Cotler would argue repeatedly that divided loyalty and related clashes were an impossibility. When campaigning for the CJC presidency, and well before he entered federal politics, he said "the agendas, Jewish and Canadian, not only interlock more than ever before, but impact upon each other in ways that hitherto have not been experienced.... There is no distinction between being a good Jew and being a good Canadian" (Lazarus and Burkham 1980).

A more pointed episode concerned a case where Mossad agents had used Canadian passports in a botched assassination attempt. The Canadian government angrily recalled the ambassador to Israel, David Berger, who happened to be Jewish. Indeed, according to news reports, several Jewish Canadians reported being approached by Mossad agents to use their passports. This incident is a far cry from the controversial case of Jonathan Pollard, the American Jewish Defense department official convicted of spying for Israel and sentenced to life imprisonment. Many Jews felt the sentence of Pollard was unduly harsh, and perhaps fuelled by a subconscious concern for dual loyalties among other American Jews working in sensitive government positions. Yet the campaign for his release continues (Ain 2011). But it did highlight the possibility of competing loyalties among Canadian Jews (Weinfeld 2001, 260-61). These cases raise the issue of how Jewish communal leaders actually negotiate possible conflicting sentiments.

THE TEBBIT OR CRICKET TEST, CANADIAN STYLE

In 1990, British MP and former Conservative Cabinet Minister Norman Tebbit made headlines by speaking about what he called the "cricket test" as a measure of the integration of immigrants in Britain. The loyalties of sports fans were thought to be relevant. Speaking in a Los Angeles Times interview on April 19 of 1990, he said: "A large proportion of Britain's Asian population fails to pass the cricket test. Which side do they cheer for? It's an interesting test. Are you still harking back to where you came from or where you are?" (Fisher 1990). The cricket test became the subject of wide and repeated discussion for several months. It was attacked as being racist in inspiration and consequence. But gradually, over the years, it became more an object of ridicule and seeming irrelevance. A British "State of the Nation" poll carried out in 2011 by IPSOS Mori for a new think tank, British Future, found 60% of people agreed with the statement: "People from abroad who settle in Britain should be able to choose to support the sporting teams of the countries they came from, even against British teams, without people saying this shows they aren't willing to fit in here." Only 15% agreed that "People from abroad who settle in Britain should support our sporting teams, even when they are competing against the countries they come from, to show they want to fit in here" (Jolley and Katwala 2012). The consensus in Britain, therefore, is that the Tebbit test is not a meaningful indicator of immigrant integration, and certainly not of loyalty. The current view seems to be that Britons of any background could root for their homeland team while remaining fully loyal and patriotic Britons (Fletcher 2011).

With this context I decided to use a version of the innocuous Tebbit test simply as an icebreaker when beginning interviews with Canadian Jewish leaders. (This is part of a larger project focused on issues of Jewish identity and loyalty, in Canada and Britain.) These individuals included elected politicians, leaders of Jewish communal organizations, rabbis, intellectuals, and journalists. They were chosen as a purposive sample through reputational criteria, not to be representative of Jews with some public or communal profile, but to illustrate a range of profiles and postures. The idea was to pose a trivial, engaging and likely fun question in the opening of interviews, one that the respondents would enjoy answering and talking about. This question would ease the discussion into the more serious issues of exploring and reconciling any possible competing and conflicting loyalties: "Suppose that Israel and Canada are competing in a Gold medal Olympic soccer game. For whom would you root, and why?" This question was not even considered as a part of the formal interview, and had been omitted from any drafts of the open-ended questionnaire and pretest. The goal was to focus subsequently on more serious matters; it was assumed that this question would set a positive tone with interviewees.

That assumption was wrong. What was surprising was the degree of consternation and discomfort, even if fleeting, that the question elicited for most of the respondents. Most, in fact, felt this question posed a serious challenge to their presumed loyalty, and many engaged in fence-sitting and obfuscation in attempting to come up with a "satisfactory" answer. And this discomfort emerged despite the fact that they all knew the interviews were confidential and they could explicitly go off the record for any question. The discomfort was evident not only in the large group that refused to choose one answer, and in the text of the reasoning they offered, but also in the irritation that could, at times, be seen in their tone, their facial expressions, and their body language. And this irritation was round even among those who offered one clear answer.

Of seventeen respondents, ten refused to choose or to declare a clear preference in this hypothetical match. Two indicated support for Canada, and rive support for Israel. One respondent "solved" the dilemma by declaring support for Israel if the match was soccer, and support for Canada if the match was hockey! This respondent, an academic, was then asked to speculate about a preferred outcome for a volleyball game, but still no luck. The academic explained further: "It's a tough choice, like choosing amongst members of your family, who do I love more, my father or my mother, I love them each differently and in different ways, it's the same between Israel and Canada ... but in most instances I would be rooting for Canada and in some I might be rooting for Israel."

Of the majority who would not or could not choose, many somehow hoped it would be a tie--which, of course, is an impossibility in any final game. As one academic put it: "I would be thrilled that they're playing against each other and probably I would hope it was going to be a fie." Another academic responded: "I couldn't give a shit about soccer" but then also refused to choose when the hypothetical question was changed to a debating tournament. In the words of yet another academic: "I really don't know, I have a deep emotional attachment to both, it is not a tough question, but tough to explain the answer."

A Jewish communal leader explained: "I would be thrilled they both got to that point and I would be thrilled with either one ... the winning is the fact that they are playing each other at that level in sports. That Israel made it to that level, that Canada made it to that level, and whichever team won, two great teams, two great countries having that opportunity to interact, so it would be one over the other.... That was hard. That's how I would relate to it." Another communal leader succinctly argued in a similar vein, "I would root for both, a no lose situation." A communal leader who wound up refusing to choose nonetheless offered another Solomonic approach to splitting a vote, based hot on the sport but on geography: "It's a tough question, I don't know. Especially since I don't follow soccer. No, it's a tough call. If the game is in Canada, I'd probably be footing for Canada. If the game is in Israel, I would be rooting for Israel ... I really can't tell you off the top of my head. It's a tough one, yeah." And yet another respondent, a politician, refused to be pinned down, and claimed: "I would just enjoy the game. As a Canadian, I would be disposed to support Canada, but on a psychological level, I would support Israel."

While some of these answers, despite their brevity, illustrate contortions of logic and discomfort, two respondents were so conflicted they went into enormous detail to explain or rationalize their non-choice. One intellectual who refused to choose launched into a socio-political critique of soccer and indeed all sports, particularly at the elite level. This is not unusual in the sociology of sport, which includes commonly post-modern and highly critical perspectives, often within a cultural studies framework (Carrington and Macdonald 2001; Crawford 2004; Hylton 2009). As this respondent explained:

   I feel there is a kind of scary background to the nationalism that
   emerges around soccer, and in particular I think there is a
   fascinating kind of anti-colonialism that happens ... so Canada to me
   as well as Israel in different ways represent a colonial project.
   So if I were seeing this soccer match, I would be thinking of it in
   that framework ... you know, this idea of the nation state as a
   collection of communities ... this is sort of bow Canada talks about
   itself. That would he on my mind. And sort of--would l be rooting
   tot Canada? I don't know, I would be interested. And for Israel, a
   country I have a lot of ideological issues with, a lot of spiritual
   and religious connection to, and community-based connection to ...
   I'd be disturbed. I think no matter what soccer match I was
   watching, I would have this colonial discourse going on in nay
   head ... so that's how I would define it, I would be watching it in a
   kind of disturbed state ... I couldn't answer the question on who I
   would be rooting for. That would be too binary for me. I don't have
   a yes or no answer.

Another respondent, a member of the media, agonized over the question at even greater length. Some highlights:

   I'd probably be rooting for Canada as a Canadian and be delighted
   if Canada won and I would be delighted if Israel won too.... I
   would absolutely root for Canada and I would absolutely probably
   root for Israel ... I would be somewhat conflicted because I would
   be happy either way....it's like Keats' "negative capability" ... the
   art of poetry is the ability to simultaneously hold two
   contradictory ideas in your mind without diminishing the value of
   the other.. In dual citizenship or religious loyalty you have to
   have a certain kind of negative capability.... So as a Jew I am
   loyal to being Jewish and the notion of Israel as the apotheosis of
   thousands of years of searching, is meaningful to me.. But Israel's
   not my home ... and if it was I would simply move there ... I don't,
   I have never really bad that strong urge to make aliyah. So, clearly,
   my identity is here, my primary identity is Canadian. My home is
   Canada, my sense of place is Canada and my sense of meaning is
   derived from Canada but it profoundly intermingles with Israel.

This may well be the first time that Keats' "negative capability" has been used in a discussion of soccer preferences.

Of those five who clearly were rooting for Israel, one Jewish communal leader claimed s/he would, in public, answer with a diplomatic answer and hope for a tie, but off the record, admitted that s/he would support Israel. The argument was that it was more difficult for a Jew to say in public that they would root for Israel, so best to keep the Israel support private. Another respondent, a rabbi and educator, also supported Israel, but claimed that if the game were in a public space in Canada, they would bring two flags: "I would feel the need to affirm the Canadian piece as well I don't know that I would be comfortable in a public role identifying myself as a Jewish Canadian through my dress, such as wearing a kippa (skullcap), in a Canadian stadium, rooting against Canada."

A Jewish communal professional argued that support for Israel was strategic; it was more important for Israel to win. Another would support Israel because they are an underdog in world public opinion. And an academic argued: "Israel. If Canada won, I'd also be happy, but I imagine I would root for Israel." The respondent elaborated: "I have both Canadian identity and Israeli identity, even though I am not an Israeli citizen....it's possible that my identification with Jewish values is stronger than any other form of identification.... It's also possible that Israel is more of the underdog. In sports one tends to go with the underdog ... so I think that would influence my decision."

The two respondents who would root for Canada were the most direct, perhaps feeling their choice required little elaboration. These were the respondents who would pass the infamous Tebbit test with flying colors. One Jewish communal official would root clearly for Canada, but would want % hard fought 2-1 game and not a 10-0 blowout." The other respondent, a media personality, was the more forceful for Canada, and perhaps had the most decisive answer of any of the respondents:

Q. Who are you rooting for?

A. Canada.

Q. Yeah, no hesitation?

A. None. That one's easy.

Q. Can you elaborate? Why is it so easy?

A. It's easy for me because first and foremost l am a Canadian citizen and I'm always cheering for Canada when it comes to a sporting event. And I would have no hesitation and trepidation. I'd probably be one of the few people who, when the Maccabi team came over here to play the Raptors, would have been cheering for the Raptors.

CONCLUSION

In sum, only two of the seventeen respondents were clear that they would support Canada. This suggests a strong degree of identification with Israel among the other respondents, which is likely prevalent among many other Canadian Jews. Most respondents did not like the question, and had difficulty arriving at a comfortable response. They were enmeshed clearly in versions of dual, divided, and ambiguous loyalties. These competing identifications were pronounced when dealing with sports events, which in the grand scheme of things are relatively trivial. One can imagine that if real conflicts of interest were in arise, whether dealing with Israel or some basic issue regarding the welfare of the Canadian Jewish community, these feelings of ambivalence would be even more acute. But in the past, certainly in the 1970s and 1980s, some Canadian Jewish leaders had felt that Canadian governments might have been more staunchly supportive of Israel on the occasion of UN votes during the Trudeau years targeting Israel, or positions on specific Middle East policy questions. A shift to a more consistent posture supportive of Israel is detected with the succession of Paul Martin as Liberal Prime Minister, and then later under the Conservative Harper government (Barry 2010; Goldberg 1989).

What is perhaps surprising is that the high degree of observed ambivalence is found in these Canadian Jewish leaders. For Jews, there are not serious homeland conflicts with Canada. In fact, the Stephen Harper government may be the most pro Israel government in Canadian history. And it might be noted that recent poll data indicate that a majority of Canadians support this current Middle East policy, and only 23% find it "too pro Israel" (Martin 2012). And even the Liberal government which preceded it was supportive of Israel. Moreover, Canada is a liberal democratic society, where minority rights enjoy constitutional protection, and where the ideas of multiculturalism are also entrenched in the Constitution and government pro grams and departments. Thus, Canadian Jews have become successful poster children for multiculturalism, seemingly able to maximize full participation in Canadian life with a meaningful retention of a cultural heritage (Adelman and Simpson 1996; Brown 2006; Weinfeld 2001).

Nevertheless, despite these facts, there may be a reservoir of marginality which lies dormant in many Canadian Jews. (This may apply not only to Canadian Jews, but to other groups, and for different historic and contemporary reasons. One thinks of Quebecois, First Nations, Muslims, Arabs, and some--but not all--visible minor-By groups.) There have been questions raised about the loyalties of Jewish Canadians in the public sphere. Tensions in the Middle East routinely pose challenges to those Canadian Jews who seek to maximize Canadian government support for Israel. These tensions have also begun to sway voting patterns of Canadian Jews, at least according to some reports. Indeed, one exit poll has confirmed a marked shift to the right, finding that in the federal election of 201 I, 52% of Canadian Jews voted for the Conservatives, and only 24% for the Liberals and 16% for the NDP (Simpson 2011). This overturns a long, documented post-war affinity of Canadian Jews for the centre/left, and the Liberals (Laponce 2010). Jewish Canadians with a profile in either the general or Jewish communities wrestle with conflicting loyalties even at the minimally consequential level of sports. And even some who supported Israel in the soccer match indicated they were reluctant to display that support in public! This insecurity was reflected in the discomfort which many respondents felt in even addressing the trivial sports question. As these interviews have shown, underneath the seeming picture of Jews as having "made it" in Canadian life, there persists ongoing internal doubts and negotiations of status in these responses. ("If everything is so good, why is everything so bad?") If this can be found for Jews, it can be found for many other Canadian minority groups. And thus in changing circumstances, dual loyalties can become divided ones.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The author wishes to thank the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council for funding this research. And thanks to Dr. Randal Schnoor for his invaluable assistance with the interviewing process.

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MORTON WEINFELD is Professor of Sociology at McGill University, where he holds the Chair in Canadian Ethnic Studies. He has published widely on issues relating to ethnic relations in Canada, and the sociology of Canadian Jewry. He is the author of Like Everyone Else but Different: The Paradoxical Success of Canadian Jews (McClelland and Stewart, 2001).