Missed opportunity at CMU

There are institutions which are influential and held in high regard. But sometimes, even those organizations miss the mark.

Recently, I had expressed concern about the Canadian Museum for Human Rights and the importance of providing historical context for its upcoming Nakba exhibit. I want to reflect on a similar concern that I have, following a recent visit to Canadian Mennonite University (CMU) to view its exhibition, The Land Remembers, Palestine: Courage, Resilience, Resistance.

Palestinian stories matter. There should be space made within exhibitions such as this, for people to share stories of loss, of home, of family history, and of culture. We learn best when we learn about each other and from one another.

And that is how this exhibit began, with Palestinian voices and displays of fabric, embroidery, and cultural expressions. These elements offered insight into a people’s lived experiences, history, and heritage.

That was one part of the exhibit. It was the next component that left me deeply disappointed and angry.

This was the “Solidarity Zone,” which showcased signs and posters from weekly pro-Palestinian protests — protests that have felt less like solidarity for Palestinians, and more like hostility toward the Jewish community.

I would like to explain my heritage. I am not Jewish. My background includes both settler and Indigenous roots as a member of the Animakee Wa Zhing First Nation in Treaty 3 territory. For over two years, since Oct. 7, 2023, I have stood alongside members of the Jewish community at rallies for peace and in support of the release of the hostage who were held captive by Hamas.

I know how many people from the Jewish community have felt when confronted with signs and words that were not used to build bridges, not used to share lived experience and not used to invite dialogue.

They were used in ways that intimidated members of the Jewish community, in spaces that should feel safe for them, their families, and their children.

What struck me most about the exhibit was what was missing.

There was no mention of the shouts, the slurs, and the libels that accompanied those signs. No reference to posters incorporating Nazi-style “SS” lightning bolts. No acknowledgment of a sign identifying a city councillor as a “Zionist” as though it were a slur. No video of children being led by adults to chant “All Zionists Are Racists” while local musicians drummed along.

I cannot see those signs without visualizing the actual environment in which they were used — the tone, the intimidation, the rhetoric. Presenting them without context does not foster understanding. It deepens division.

One poster in the exhibit included the acronym AZAB — “All Zionists Are Bastards.” This language is demonizing and dehumanizing that targets Jewish people and the belief in self-determination in their ancestral homeland.

Another poster depicted Louis Riel wearing a keffiyeh. Louis Riel, Métis leader and founder of Manitoba, is not a prop to be dressed up to serve a political agenda.

A sign displayed read, “Zionism is antisemitism.” Zionism is not antisemitism, and a statement like this demands a clear and accurate explanation of what Zionism means. For the majority of the Jewish community, as numerous studies have shown, Zionism is the belief that the Jewish people have the right to self-determination in their ancestral homeland. Antisemitism, by contrast, is prejudice, discrimination, or hate directed at Jewish people as Jews.

This was a tremendous opportunity for CMU to bring people together, to host difficult conversations, to connect and learn from one another, to tell stories of pain and loss without amplifying hostility.

I know many people in the Mennonite community. They are people of deep faith, whom I respect and admire. I believe many sincerely want to create spaces that encourage dialogue, reflection, and reconciliation. This exhibition could have done that. It did not.

In storytelling exhibits involving history, our institutions have a responsibility to tell the whole story, not just the parts that align with one perspective.

The curators of the “Solidarity Zone” describe it as a “labour of love.” But love requires the labour of caring for everyone who enters the room, and this exhibit does not. I often say that dialogue is what moves us forward, and words matter.

In this case, one cannot curate words and images of hate into love.

Lisa Lewis is a consultant, community advocate and volunteer.