Professor fired for saying he stood with Israel and calling Hamas Nazis. Not sure if Nazis took offence or Hamas.

The University of Guelph chose Hamas over Israel. Yes, it's that simple.

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On July 7, 2025, I was dismissed from my professorial position. Why? For saying I stood with Israel, and calling Hamas Nazis - all to a stranger in Pakistan. A 15-year career finished. I put Toby and Malibu in the picture. In this 19-month struggle, they have always been there.

Thank you to all those on my Substack who have supported me. Your kind words have been a lifeline to me. This was not unexpected, given that the appeals were rejected (as were my defence documents), unread. Nevertheless, it is not a good night; it feels raw, and the damn liquor store is now closed.

I’ve Been Sacked.

Well then. There it is. The blade has fallen — not with drama, not even with a sneer — just the soft, clicking finality of bureaucratic contempt. I’ve been sacked, expelled, and discarded. Not with a bang, but with the dry, papery cough of an institution too bored and too cowardly to pretend it believes in justice anymore.

There was no hearing. No theatre. Not even the insulting pantomime of a kangaroo court. I was advised—no, instructed—not to attend my disciplinary meeting. “It would only waste everyone’s time,” came the oily reassurance, delivered in the antiseptic dialect of bureaucratic disdain. Of course it would. The verdict had been chiselled into stone long before any mockery of process was invoked. The accuser and the executioner were the same, and the scaffold had been assembled behind closed doors.

The axe was raised before the charge sheet had even cooled.

Nineteen months. Not a hearing. Not a shred of cross-examination. Not a page of disclosed evidence—because, of course, none existed. In this farce, assertion supplants fact, and hearsay—not merely accepted, but celebrated-is treated as gospel, even when the original speaker denies saying it. Madness? No, it’s worse: it’s institutionalised idiocy in action.

No defence documents read. No names. No particulars. Just a “report” so vacuous it makes one wonder if a high school diploma is even required to be an external investigator—or if the author had recently misplaced hers. One lawyer asked aloud, “Was the writer even sober?”

This wasn’t an investigation. It was a bureaucratic burlesque of justice—a steaming compost heap of omission, laziness, and spite. Not one named witness contacted. Not one relevant fact pursued. One short, one-hour interview with me, which was ignored, and one ten-minute meeting with the investigator. If you don’t sign my non-disclosure agreement (not required), I won’t give you a defence. Shameless.

No regard or acceptance of exculpatory evidence. The “balance of probabilities” was invoked like a spell by someone who’d skimmed a legal textbook in a pub. Precedents? Misapplied with all the finesse of a drunken first-year.

The report bears the intellectual rigour of a horoscope and the moral clarity of a foghorn. It is not an inquiry but an alibi. A bureaucratic scroll written not to determine facts, but to launder a predetermined guilt—mine.

It is easier to find truth in a party manifesto than in this stitched-together quilt of innuendo, omissions, and selectively curated outrage. That a law firm wrote it is no defence—it is, in fact, a further indictment of the legal profession’s slide into procedural mercenary work, where justice is not blind but gagged and on retainer.

It is a collage of ghost claims, misquoted hearsay, and invented grievances—all strung together by someone seemingly allergic to evidence and impervious to logic. Not one named source interviewed. Not a line of exculpatory material considered. Defence documents unread. No hearing, no cross-examination, no basic procedural dignity.

It’s not merely shoddy—it’s delusional. A hallucination given legal letterhead. And like all delusions, it’s dangerous. Because someone mistook it for justice, this wasn’t an investigation. It was a tantrum with a clipboard. Even Orwell would demand a rewrite.

This was not due process.

But so I waited. Not for justice. Not even for reckoning. Just for the ping.

The ping of the email—the 21st-century executioner’s drumroll. A lifeless, unreplyable communique. Not a voice. Not a face. No forum, no dignity, no final word. Just the dull, flickering glow of Outlook announcing that your professional obituary has arrived—typed by a middle manager, spell-checked by HR, and sent with all the moral weight of a lunchroom memo.

This is how reputations are strangled now: not in tribunals, not in trials, but in inboxes. Cold. Cowardly. And utterly silent.

And here we encounter a uniquely modern obscenity: you can’t shit on an email.

Pity. It deserves nothing less. But the keyboard bears the brunt, and the cowards remain untouched — faceless clerks of the new inquisition, hiding behind HR firewalls and euphemisms, gutless in the extreme.

This isn’t a process. This is purge. This is what happens when institutional cowardice mates with moral vanity — a bloodless pogrom carried out in Teams meetings and email threads, by people who still drape themselves in the tattered robes of “inclusion” and “well-being” as they destroy dissenters without a trial.

Debate is now a threat.

Defence is aggression.

Truth is violence.

Differences, they foolishly assure us, are merely the result of poor communication, though they refuse to communicate. They speak in hashtags and slogans, never in sentences, never in thought.

They carry no courage of conviction, only the shallow certainty of peer approval. Their beliefs—such as they are—have the integrity of wet tissue and the lifespan of trending content. They don’t argue. They emote. They don’t reason. They react. And still, they claim the moral high ground by volume alone.

These are people who say they want justice, but can’t define it. Who denounce harm with trembling hands while pressing the digital guillotine. Who cry “inclusion” while purging dissenters like heretics.

Their worldview is built on slogans but collapses under a single question. Their certainties are propped up by cowardice masquerading as compassion. Their morality outsourced, their courage nonexistent.

And when the sentence is handed down—when they cancel, accuse, destroy—they lack even the decency to look their victim in the eye. No confrontation. No defence. Just the soft-click execution of the block button and the dopamine thrill of perceived righteousness.

They do not seek understanding. They demand obedience.

They do not deliberate. They declare.

They do not persuade. They punish.

Let’s be clear: I was placed on medical leave by a licensed psychologist — a doctor, mind you, working under the aegis of the WSIB. The WSIB said the mob violence of the university, the abuse and harassment of the lawyers, the staff, the faculty, the students and above all the management was so extreme that I had PTSD.

And what did these enlightened defenders of human dignity do? They ignored it. They marched straight on, boots polished, ropes ready. Because thugs must thug, and medical advice is only for the little people. These institutions will follow every fashionable ideology down to the letter — except, of course, when it’s inconvenient. They’ve got appeals to pretend to read, policies to trample, and procedural fairness to hang by the neck until dead.

This is the University of Guelph. This is Humber College. These are institutions that have made their choice — and not by accident.

They’ve chosen the side of Hamas over Israel.

Yes, Hamas over Israel. Let that sink in. The universities of Guelph and Humber, wrapped in the banners of progressivism, have thrown in their lot with theocratic fascists who behead hostages and use children as shields. That is the moral clarity of our modern academy.

The irony would be delicious if it weren’t so disgraceful. The house built on the rock of reason has torn out its foundation and tried to balance itself atop the drifting, putrid sands of hysteria, tribalism, and fear.

Let them try. The storm is coming. And when it does, that house will fall. And great — so very great — will be the fall of it.

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Ah yes, the university — that noble temple of inquiry — has, through its loyal megaphone (the union), helpfully clarified that disciplinary hearings are not so much about hearing as they are about discipline. Don’t bother showing up, they say. We’ve already rendered our verdict in absentia, months ago, while you were still naïvely gathering evidence and clinging to due process like it still meant something.

Picture a courtroom where the judge doesn’t bother to show up—no robes, no gavel, just a chirpy email declaring your guilt, signed off with a breezy “No need to attend.” No charges read, no evidence examined, no defence permitted. You see, they’ve consulted not the facts, but the vibes. And the vibes—those whimsical little ghosts of popular feeling—have declared you wanting. That’s justice now: trial by intuition, verdict by consensus séance, and punishment delivered via PDF.

In 19 long months, I have not been allowed a single audience with a university administrator to present a defence. Not one. Every document I submitted was unread, though they lied about that too—untouched, unconsidered, unopened as if the very idea of due process were somehow indecent. As if the presumption of innocence had expired quietly during some after-hours diversity seminar.

When a university begins to reject appeals without reading them, it becomes not just absurd but obscene. It ceases to be a university in any meaningful sense. It becomes something closer to an oracle’s shrine, where outcomes are pronounced, not explained, and where questioning the ritual is treated as heresy.

There is a particular irony—almost too rich to taste—when a university, of all places, chooses to abandon reason. Scripture, in its stinging simplicity, speaks of the man who built his house upon the sand. The winds blew, the floods came, and great was the fall of it. The warning is neither subtle nor obscure: a house that rejects a solid foundation for convenience or vanity is doomed to collapse.

But this modern university seems to fancy itself exempt. It tears down its bedrock—the pursuit of truth, the adversarial test of ideas—and cheerfully erects its mission on sentiment, fear, and bureaucratic superstition.

Let them. When the snake begins to eat its own tail, it discovers too late that the appetite is fatal—and the meal is brief.

They are either gloriously incompetent or entirely without shame — and I rather suspect both. They convene kangaroo courts where the sentence precedes the trial, and they drape this bureaucratic farce in the robes of righteousness. It’s not just hypocrisy; it’s theatre — grim, grey, and smug. And they clap for themselves after every act.

How did I earn this distinction?

I posted one line — one sentence — on LinkedIn: I condemned Hamas, calling them Nazis, as it’s a historical fact, but I guess truth and history are deemed less important than inchoate rage by a Muslim professor and his well-connected University Vice Provost supporter and the risen mob.

Criticising the Ottomans for murdering 1.5 million Armenians is probably not allowed either—another professor might say such historical truth insults his sky daddy.

And sky daddies, as long as they aren’t Hindu, Christian, or Jewish, are very sensitive these days.

I declared support for Israel after the October 7 massacre, after watching the horrors of the Nova Festival. I condemned a primitive genocidal death cult with historical accuracy. I guess I’m not learning, am I? I just did it again. An apology to the death cult supporter?

An apology would be a betrayal. Those young souls danced with joy, not knowing it would be their last act. They were my children’s age. To apologise now would be to deny their murder, to bleach evil into something palatable. Never. Not for this job. Not for any.

A single student saw that post, still bitter about a Consumer Behaviour grade from years ago. She stirred up Professor Wael Ramadan, whom I’d never met, who taught only one course a year and never even picked up his office key, in and out like an angry ghost.

But he who flushed with indignation stormed past my open office door into the Vice-Provost’s office — his friend, how convenient — and sounded the alarm.

“He called Hamas Nazis!”
“He said he stands with Israel!”

That was all. That’s the entire dossier. The rest was performance: Nineteen months of sadistic abuse, with what half a million dollars blown on lawyers to threaten me?

When I tried to find out how much they spent on lawyers, I was met with rage by their cowardly FIPPA lawyers, but not one of them dared to sign their name. Just to defame. Trial by defamation, the U of Guelph way.

I suppose Lerners LLP of London—yes, that charming provincial outpost of legal thunder—has not yet upgraded to the latest non-hallucinating version of the ChatGPT Legal Kit. Their lead attack dog, a woman whose default mode was frothing rage and typewritten threats, began her correspondence with something between a shriek and a curse, and never quite calmed down. From day one, it was fire and brimstone via PDF.

No fewer than five lawyers—plus their in-house legal golem—descended like a horde of clerical inquisitors. Not one of them had the courage or curiosity to hear a word from me. They weren’t there to investigate; they were there to prosecute. Heretic! Blasphemer! Burn him in Gmail.

For a brief time, my side made legal noises—expensive, tentative ones—before the budget flatlined. After that, I was alone. Well, except for my two West Highland Terriers, whose moral clarity far outstripped that of any union rep or HR stooge. Loyal, empathetic, but tragically underqualified in cross-examination. If that had been allowed.

So yes, it was five lawyers against one man and two dogs. And we still gave them a run for their money.

Hey kids, your tuition is going up. Sorry, we’ve got lawyers to pay for fake reports and to harass Jew loving professors.

I hope Sherrard Kuzz LLP sends the University of Guelph and Humber College a fruit basket at Christmas. Sorry, I meant ‘happy holidays.’ No, I’m doing it again—another lawsuit. You can’t fire me twice, though.

The Vice-Provost, Melanie Spence-Ariemma, wasted no time. As the Complainant, she acted as judge, jury, and executioner, suspending me without charges. They held her human rights complaint against me for a month, encouraging her and her professor friend Wael Ramadan to plump it up with fabricated grievances.

Dear reader, I confess I still don’t understand how calling Hamas “Nazis” to a man in Pakistan—himself calling for Israel’s extermination—constitutes violence.

Or how eight strangers, unprompted, suddenly developed identical complaints, reciting “safety, safety, violence” like a dim-witted Greek chorus. There was no evidence. I didn’t shout. I didn’t threaten. But my accuser? He stormed in like Savonarola on a sugar high, shrieking to a committee of pale, nodding bureaucrats who fell over themselves to offer him tissues and titles.

And yet I was the threat?

Calling genocidal fascists “Nazis” is now harassment? When a LinkedIn algorithm echoed it to one student still bitter about a grade?

Curious, isn’t it?

I’m equally baffled by how the Vice-Provost and my accuser, Professor Ramadan, managed to leap from “he called Hamas Nazis” to “he’s a paedophile”—a logical bridge so rickety it wouldn’t hold a feather, let alone a career. And yet, there it is, in black and white, in official documents. Not only whispered in corridors, but filed, stamped, and sanctified by bureaucracy.

Remarkable, isn’t it? Slander as a process.

No hearing. Banned from campus, locked out of my office. Irreplaceable family belongings are discarded like clutter from my office. A loyal student, shocked, tipped me off.

Colleagues and staff defamed me, some claiming I’d been arrested, led away in handcuffs, or was on the brink of being fired for years.

The faculty repeated this in class. I have the messages.

When I asked a staff member to stop lying, public safety warned me that such contact could be considered criminal harassment and referred me to the Toronto Police. Protesting defamation became a crime.

What followed was an “investigation” in name only—a parody of justice conducted without evidence, without witnesses, and even the pretence of cross-examination—no opportunity to respond, of course, until after the noose was cinched. The report’s author, Gita Anand of Sherrard Kuzz—a firm better known for defending corporations than discovering truth—delivered an ultimatum with all the charm of a Vatican inquisitor: sign this absurd non-confidentiality agreement, more sealed than a papal conclave, or forfeit your right to defend yourself.

She wasn’t bluffing, I’ll give her that. In true Orwellian fashion, silence became proof, accusation became guilt, and the only role I was permitted to play in my professional execution was that of the silent corpse.

And Ramadan, my accuser and author of thousands of antisemitic posts—Holocaust inversion, blood libel, calls for Jewish extermination, glorification of October 7 terror? Never suspended. His conduct was excluded from the investigation. My complaints, as well as those of Jewish students, against him were dismissed unread.

The unions? OPSEU refused to act. CUPE 3913 filed a grievance 18 months ago and now treats it like radioactive waste—no updates, no action. The Labour Board shrugs: Incompetence isn’t misconduct. It’s the going rate.
So I was sacked. No severance.

My “paid” suspension saw stretches with no pay. No appeal remains. I’ll lose nearly $2 million in future earnings, pension, royalties, and benefits.

A Canadian university—once a citadel of inquiry—has found its purpose: institutional Jew-hatred paired with Hamas apologia. They don’t hide it. They’re proud.

As Eliot wrote, and I feel it in my bones:

“This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.”

I leave this farce with my conscience intact, unbent in spirit, though bent in form.

The taint of controversy follows me. Yet I’m alive. I have my family, my dogs. I haven’t given in to hate, though I’ve met its face. May God take his vengeance, maybe with a few lawyers helping him on earth.

That’s my type of sky daddy.

So yes, I’ve been sacked. But I will write. I will speak. I will not fade quietly, no matter how much they wish I would.

Let that be the one thing they did not get.

My heartfelt thanks to those who’ve stood by me—your kindness was a lifeline, and though it couldn’t save the job, it probably saved me.

This isn’t the end, merely a grim pause. The termination letter from the University of Guelph-Humber—a joint enterprise of Humber College and the University of Guelph—I’ve attached a photo for proof of its cold finality: no severance, just the boot after nineteen months of purgatory.

For those who’ve followed every twist—every lie, every gag order, every ignored appeal—you’re likely as stunned as I am that it dragged on so long. I loved teaching at Guelph-Humber: the hum of eager students, the spark of debate, the joy of shaping minds.

At forty-five, I’d found my calling—until it was stolen. Suspended without cause, banned from campus, my courses—fifteen years’ labour, two graduate degrees—were trashed overnight. Rumours swirled: I was a criminal, a racist (that’s the go-to slur), a monster, worse. Colleagues, knowing the truth, chose silence over standing up for their convictions. Strangers online cared more.

These nineteen months have been a crucible—sleepless dawns, soaring blood pressure, my 18-year-old daughter weeping at their cruelty. Yet, amid the dark, friends—especially Jewish and strangely Caribbean friends - with the whitey’s bailing on me—lifted me.

I’m profoundly grateful. Make no mistake: I was fired for saying, “I stand with Israel,” and calling Hamas Nazis. This wasn’t a debate; it was a purge.

My sacking proves that, in 2025, backing a democracy against a genocidal death cult is a firing offence.

To those who’ve offered support: this is for you. To the university: your verdict sharpens my resolve. I won’t apologise. I stand with Israel against evil, and I’m unbroken. I’m with the Jews, and I believe they’re with me.

God save Israel.

A Warning: Canada’s Political Path to Perdition

I write not for vengeance or self-pity but in sorrow—and with fear for what’s coming. For nineteen months, I’ve been stalked by malice dressed in HR memos. Suspended without cause, slandered, silenced by cowards, abandoned by unions, gaslit at every turn, I’ve seen the beast up close.

The letter wasn’t a verdict; it was a snarl from wolves in designer blouses, their jowls slick with the glee of a job well done. Picture a thermometer measuring a civilisation’s rot.

A century ago, Germany’s needle crept—insults, exclusions, then Kristallnacht’s inferno. Today, Canada’s needle twitches, and my case is a grim tick on its scale. This isn’t 1938, but history stalks, with a smirk and a clipboard. Ignore the flicker, and you’ll choke on smoke.

The Silent Pogrom: Bureaucracy’s Blade.

For fourteen years, I taught at Guelph-Humber, where I thrived, earning stellar reviews, working with award-winning students, and developing courses from scratch. I lingered late, chatting with students, cleaners, and the cafeteria lady who knew my order. I was no star, just a workhorse who loved the job.

This wasn’t a torchlit mob; it was a genteel execution—lies—‘paedophile, rapist, thug’—woven by strangers who never met me. The Stalinist “report” by Sherrard Kuzz was pure slander, endorsed by Melanie Spence-Ariemma, the university’s Grand Inquisitor—no evidence, just anonymous venom, coordinated and vicious.

No communication. None. She suspended me, then failed to show up to the very meeting where my career was to be dissected—blaming traffic, of course.

Alas, the roads were clear. What wasn’t clear was her conscience. She preferred the role of Oz—issuing decrees from behind the bureaucratic curtain. But like all paper tyrants, she panicked when the curtain so much as fluttered.

The prospect of open scrutiny sent her scuttling. Not justice, not process—just cowardice, cloaked in procedural formality, wielded by someone who mistook her silence for moral superiority. She wasn’t late. She was hiding. And she still is.

My appeals—forty pages, lawyer-vetted—went unread. Wolves don’t deliberate; they devour. This was no error. Nineteen months of conspiracy, led by Dr. Wael Ramadan, whose anti-Jewish bile—“filth,” “subhuman”—found allies in administrators too polite to slur but eager to ruin.

The new anti-Semitism stabs with a smile, then denies the knife.

The Banality of Evil

Administrators as Assassins: Hannah Arendt Nailed It—Evil Thrives in Memos and “Policies.”

My expulsion was a masterclass—no inquiry, just lies polished by Sherrard Kuzz. Ramadan, released from three human rights complaints, walked free. I, with fourteen unblemished years, am crucified for supporting Israel. This is the system, not its failure. Jewish students’ CVs are binned, complaints are flipped, and human rights offices yawn.

The old beast roared; this one slithers, no less deadly.

Historical Echoes: From Weimar to Woke

In 1920s Germany, universities bred hate—first subtly, then rabidly. Canada’s 2025 echoes this: hate propaganda festers, I’m smeared, and police ignore complaints. I brought forward a criminal complaint of hate propaganda against Wael Ramadan. The police, deceitfully, took it and then buried it, never investigating it, despite the police officers acknowledging that it was a criminal offence.

B’nai Brith’s 2024 count—6,219 anti-Semitic acts—screams the trend—if campuses normalise this, the future’s grim. Universities have gone from ‘pro-Palestinian’ to pro-Hamas.

Call to Action

I urge you to share this story.

Publicity won’t restore my job or conjure severance—those are gone. But sunlight burns rot. Let the world know about the University of Guelph and Humber College. I wouldn’t let my kids attend either, and giving to them through alumni drives endorses their anti-Semitism.

This was nineteen months, hundreds of thousands spent on lawyers, violation after violation, cruelty like shunning, management endorsing staff who call a faculty member a paedophile, and impunity for those who spread it.

This university loves Hamas more than Israel.

Accountability matters; the more who see their shame, the better. Perhaps future administrators will hesitate to wear garments soiled by institutional anti-Semitism.

Conclusion

I recently watched a story of a Jewish family in Eastern Europe, days before this poor family were rounded up and sent to a concentration camp. Outside, a mob was rioting.

People were throwing rocks at their windows.

The mother told her daughter, “Stay away from the window — strangers are throwing rocks at us.” And the daughter replied: “But Mommy… It’s our neighbours throwing them.”

That’s what this feels like.

Of course, my circumstances are not as dire, nor am I, like Dreyfus, off to Devil’s Island, but the dread is ancestral. The chill is familiar. It’s not the howling strangers at the gate that undo you. It’s the people you once stood beside. The ones who knew you. The colleagues. The administrators. The unions. The neighbours.

I’m the canary in the academic coal mine — not dead from error or accident, but from the calculated malice of three institutions: Humber, Guelph, and Guelph-Humber — aided by two unions who could barely muster the energy to pretend to care. I’ve seen more concern from people trying to get their quarter back from the shopping cart at Walmart.

Together, these institutions and law firms orchestrated a slow-motion reputational pogrom: no jackboots, no shouting — just paperwork, silence, and the click of the send button.

This is the oldest hatred in history, repackaged with glossy DEI logos, whispered through grievance committees, and justified with the smug nod of moral superiority.

If you think Kristallnacht came from nowhere — if you think that kind of hatred explodes overnight — then you’ve learned nothing from history. It starts small. With cowardice. With a wink. With reputational ruin disguised as policy. And always, always, with neighbours

My ruin is a fracture in the glass.

Share this, not for me — I’m past saving. You have a limited social profile, most of us do, but even baby steps move us toward our goals.

Share it because the next crack is already forming.

If you found value in this article and wish to support my ongoing work, please consider leaving a tip. Your support helps me continue producing uncensored content on critical issues.

I am not asking anyone to write if they either think it is hopeless, or they have any doubts about a word of this story or if they have better things to do, like feeding the dog or taking a nap.

I think that contacting this shameless crew will have as much impact as trying to talk a rabid dog into calm. These people are creatures of hate and cowardice and they have had 19 months to listen to reason, facts and evidence - but they have chosen to defame, malign, break their own rules by the hundreds, and to disguise prejuduce in the false clothes of reason. Why would they change now? But sometimes it is good to present even to those who will not listen.

Here is a sample letter. Say what you want, you can say “Well done boys, we hope Finlayson rots in hell” if you like.

I prefer the following:

Protest Letter (200 words)

Subject: Shame on Humber, University of Guelph, and Guelph-Humber for the Firing of Paul Finlayso

n

To those responsible:

You terminated Paul Finlayson without due process or procedural fairness. You shunned him, defamed him, and led a campaign of institutional poisoning that is a disgrace, especially in a university setting.

You conducted a sham investigation not to uncover the truth but to create the illusion of due process. You ignored every appeal. You never addressed a single factual point. Your rash, irrational, and infantile rush to judgment was followed by months of bureaucratic abuse—all funded with public dollars, not to understand, but to obscure.

Not one of you offered Paul the basic human right of defence. Instead, you hired a ringer to affirm your ignorance and prejudice. You permitted—or participated in—an academic lynching, all to appease a mob.

The record shows that Professor Ramadan repeatedly glorified Hamas, justified the October 7 atrocities, and spread Holocaust‑inversion propaganda: thousands of posts referring to Israel as “Nazis,” Jews as “devils,” and open praise for “resistance” even as civilians were butchered.

These statements breach the Ontario Human Rights Code and Guelph’s Human Rights Policy on harassment, creating a poisoned academic environment for Jewish students. Equally egregious, Professor Shupack publicly stated that Jews and Israel “deserved” October 7, amplifying antisemitic narratives and further violating HRTO provisions on discriminatory speech.

Both faculty members remained unpunished despite documented complaints, while Professor Finlayson was fired for a single LinkedIn post condemning Hamas as Nazis — a historically accurate analogy and core protected speech. That this outcome relied on student‑altered documents from day one compounds the travesty: excusing hate while punishing its denunciation is institutionalised moral inversion.

You claim to be academics. You acted like cowards and thugs.

Your own “human rights manager,” Kathryn Edgett, abdicated her mandate and persecuted anyone who supported Israel or the Jewish people, while indulging grotesque anti-Semitic hate, even criminal hate propaganda. The institution stood by her.

In silencing and abuse, you ended the career of a respected lecturer, beloved by students and far better at his job than any of you.

This is not justice. It is cowardice. You embraced trial by defamation, institutional retaliation, and weaponized policy. Paul’s “crime”? Responding to a genocidal comment online. The punishment? Gag orders. Exclusion. Gossip. A Potemkin “investigation” without evidence that ignored everything exonerating.

Even after WSIB recognized his trauma and CAMH diagnosed PTSD caused by your actions, you didn’t stand down—you doubled down. You abused and denied FOI processes, denied accommodation, and smeared him further without rebuttal or remorse.

This is antisemitism wrapped in bureaucracy. This is academic McCarthyism. This is shameful.

We fully support legal and media efforts to expose this disgrace. We encourage everyone to include their MPP in correspondence.

We further call for:

• A full Ministry investigation into this miscarriage of justice;

• A boycott of Humber College, the University of Guelph, and the University of Guelph-Humber;

• A halt to donations to these institutions by anyone who values integrity.

Shame on Humber College.

Shame on the University of Guelph.

Shame on the University of Guelph-Humber.

Shame on every one of you who stood by and said nothing.

Your silence has a cost. And the public is watching.

Emails (copy & paste):

boardofgovernors@humber.ca, nolan.quinn@pc.ola.org. chancellor@uoguelph.ca, provost@uoguelph.ca, president@uoguelph.ca, sueann.vaughan@humber.ca, rvanacker@uoguelph.ca, melanie.spenceariemma@guelphhumber.ca, george.bragues@guelphhumber.ca, ddouek@lerners.ca, Kathryn.Edgett@humber.ca, Nancy.Deason@humber.ca, vasti.bagot@guelpphumber.ca,wael.ramadan@guelphhumber.ca, wael.ramadan@sheridan.ca 

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Find Your MPP (Ontario):

https://www.ola.org/en/members/current

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