Remember Mickey Ward

We cannot be completely sure how this will end. Bring on the last round.

Nota Bene — or, if you prefer, Note:

Seeing as I may soon be judicially gagged and made to kneel before one of those fashionable “non-disparagement” edicts — the bureaucrat’s genteel way of saying shut up and take it — I’ve decided that the truth of these two long years of ordeal shall not be interred with me. The record will live, if only so that the guilty cannot disappear behind the smokescreen of policy and process. Thus, I am putting the remaining facts and names out today.

Too much, perhaps, has been said already about my own case; if such matters bore you, I take no offence. If intrigues, this button takes you to the back story, written the day I was fired for calling Hamas Nazis.

There are, after all, gentler amusements in this space — essays about cats and grief, Israel and Carney, satires based on Willy Wonka and artificial girlfriends (and some three hundred other diversions) — any of which might better pique your curiosity than yet another dispatch from the bureaucratic gulag.

All I ask — and it really is a modest request — is that Danielle Douek of Lerners LLP, or whichever legal gargoyle is currently tasked with silencing me, might refrain from signing up for the free version of freedomtoffend.com.

When you’ve already billed the University of Guelph enough taxpayer money to fund a small orchestra of incompetence, surely you can scrape together six dollars a month for the privilege of hate-reading my work.

But for the rest of you — the ones who still believe that silence is complicity — here’s how it all began.

A professor had the temerity to call Hamas what they are: Nazis¹.

And for that unspeakable act of moral clarity, the University of Guelph and Humber College launched the full orchestra of institutional cowardice — defamation, suspension, shunning, intimidation, procedural torture, and finally, the public beheading that passes for “termination.”

No one allowed me any defence or communicated with me; both appeals were returned unread, and the adjudication meeting was cancelled.

It wasn’t a process; it was a purge. Bureaucrats with clipboards and no conscience, lawyers with invoices but no shame, and administrators who believe that cowardice, if performed collectively, becomes a form of virtue.

The record must stand, if only so that the guilty do not escape into the comfortable anonymity of institutional fog.

But let me tell you a story of a fight everyone thought finished — a battle written off by the experts, narrated as defeat before the bell had even rung. Yet sometimes, providence — that sly accomplice of chance — conspires with sheer human grit to turn the tide. And suddenly, what seemed foregone refuses to end the way the comfortable had predicted.

It is May 2002, and Micky Ward — Lowell, MA’s battered son — is stepping into the tenth and final round against Arturo Gatti. Ward’s ribs are cracked, his eyes swollen to slits, his blood painting the mat.

The only flaw in the metaphor is that Arturo Gatti, the “loser” in the first of that legendary trilogy, was no villain — merely an honest fighter in a crooked sport. And that’s precisely where it breaks down: it’s hard to find a bout in which the man with all the advantages — the money, the training, the judges in his pocket — cheats, struts, lies, and still loses to the underdog with nothing but heart. For that, you’d have to turn to professional wrestling — and even there, the outcomes are less scripted than Canadian academia.

The commentators had written the eulogy before the bell. And yet he rose — grim, defiant, indomitable — and threw the punches that turned defeat into legend.

The lesson is as simple as it is eternal: the round belongs to whoever is still standing when the bell sounds.

We are not at the end. I am still standing — bruised, bloodied, but upright. If providence is kind, may I finish like Micky Ward - I share an Irish passport with him— not graceful, not unscarred, but unbroken — still swinging, still breathing, and still refusing to say it is over.

Why am I naming names?

I have lost or will lose about $2 million, my reputation has been destoyed, my health may never recover, and yet the university not only refuses to investigate the malicous and criminal behaviour of their leaders, but they are legally threatening me to keep the names listed below private so that their crimes and malicious actions (of which at a proper university they would be fired for) are hidden.

How, indeed, does one demand an investigation when the very people who should be in the dock are the ones commissioning the inquiry? It’s like asking the arsonist to chair the fire brigade — the outcome is foreordained, and the blaze is blamed on the wind.

Again—why do I name names?

Because euphemism is the language of cowards, and this story has already been lacquered with enough institutional varnish to hide a war crime.

The University of Guelph and Humber College permitted—indeed, enabled—Professor Wael Ramadan and student agitators to enlist openly antisemitic organisations such as “Reverse Canary Mission” and “Stop Zionist Hate” and “CJPME” in a coordinated defamation campaign. Between 50,000 and 300,000 zealots were invited—complete with the Communications department’s email and X handle helpfully supplied—to write in and demand my termination.

When you unleash over 100,000 people and tell them, directly or by proxy, “Write in and demand this man’s head,” you don’t get a polite trickle — you get a manufactured storm.

Communications, of course, won’t tell me how many complaints they actually received. I was under blackout, exiled from email, barred from inquiry — a non-person by decree. But do the arithmetic even a half-sober bureaucrat could manage: if a mere 2% of that mob obeys the command, that’s 2,000 letters.

Cue the whisper to the Vice-Provost and her trembling courtiers:

“We’re being overwhelmed with demands for his termination. It’s a flood. He’s enraged the Muslim and pro-Palestinian community. He must be a hater.”

Give it a fortnight, add a dollop of hysteria and a garnish of cowardice, and suddenly the story improves with every retelling:

“We’re getting 5,000 demands a day.”

“He’s a monster.”

“You heard he attacked five students and raped a girl, right?”

The gossip becomes gourmet — little savoury morsels of slander passed around the institutional tapas bar. Everyone gets to nibble on the scandal, to chew on the invented depravity of a colleague they’ve never met, and wash it down with a warm glass of moral vanity.

And so, what began as a calculated incitement by one malicious faculty member metastasises — in classic tumour fashion — into a “community outcry,” a synthetic tsunami of hate dressed up as spontaneous outrage.

It isn’t justice. It’s oncology. A malignancy deliberately cultured in the petri dish of a university that long ago misplaced whatever conscience it once pretended to have. This cancer didn’t merely appear — it was engineered, injected, and nurtured by people who knew exactly what they were doing.

And what did the administrators do? Spence-Ariemma, Jerry Chomyn, Bragues, and Edgett, all notified, all aware, did precisely what bureaucrats do best: they stared into the middle distance and called it leadership.

The Vice-Provost, the Assistant Vice-Provost, and their chorus of credentialed cowards refused even to acknowledge the spectacle of a professor bragging to students about summoning his anti-Jewish auxiliaries to get a colleague fired. While the student admitted it to me, he was too much of a coward, and Mummy held him back from reporting the professor’s boasts to the University. The professor, Wael Ramadan, was a longtime friend of the VP, and no one knew how she’d react.

When the matter reached the higher sanctums of the University of Guelph—Provost Bill Rosehart and his ever-pliant Dean—they didn’t refute the lies. They adopted them, wrapped them in administrative stationery, and called it justice.

This is the calibre of people who now pass for moral authority in our institutions: the sort who see defamation not as a problem to correct but as a convenience to exploit. They have reduced the idea of due process to a decorative phrase, like a scented candle in a room that already reeks of cowardice.

Public Pressure

The only bodies theoretically empowered to halt this farce are the Boards of Governors at Humber and Guelph — those somnambulant congregations of corporate yes-men/women who dutifully rubber-stamp presidential pay raises while pretending to deliberate. Their chief concern, one suspects, is what the caterer will bring to the next meeting.

I am sure they all state their pronouns with the solemn delicacy of a Vatican oath — such exquisite sensitivity, such moral embroidery — and yet, they stand serenely by while a colleague is defamed, slandered, and torn apart by the very wolves of “equity” they so piously feed.

Their compassion ends precisely where courage ought to begin.

Meanwhile, the sessional lecturers — the actual lifeblood of the university — beg for a two-percent raise and a parking pass, like Dickensian clerks petitioning the aristocracy for crumbs from the luncheon table.

And for those who would call this cynicism, I would remind them — in the spirit of Hitchens — that “the essence of the independent mind lies not in what it thinks, but in how it thinks.” What you call cynicism is merely accuracy with its makeup off. Sometimes, realism just shows up to the party wearing cynicism’s clothes.

These boards do not govern; they nod. They are courtiers masquerading as overseers, polishing medals on a sinking ship.

When the President of the University of Guelph, René Van Acker, boasts to a local rabbi — four months before my mock “judicial review” even begins — that I “should start looking for a new job,” one needn’t be an epistemologist to grasp that the verdict preceded the evidence. The whole affair was a stage play performed for bureaucrats who mistake procedure for justice and decorum for decency.

But give credit where it’s due: Melanie Spence-Ariemma of Guelph-Humber managed to make Van Acker look like Cicero presiding over the Athenian courts. She announced my termination to faculty and staff a full month before I even received her so-called human rights complaint — on the very day I was suspended without charges, in November 2023.

It takes a certain genius for injustice to make corruption look competent. Still, between Van Acker’s smug prophecy and Spence-Ariemma’s preemptive triumph, the University of Guelph-Humber has turned due process into a spectator sport — complete with a script, a villain, and no need for a verdict.

As for the Jewish community? Far too small to register on the university’s moral seismograph. The institution has learned, with the instinctive cowardice of all bureaucracies, to bend whichever way the demographic wind happens to blow.

Meanwhile, Islamophobia remained both the media’s and the university’s most cherished sacrament — chanted with pious monotony even as the bodies of Israeli teenagers at the Nova Music Festival were still warm in the grass, their names already dissolving beneath the seductive shimmer of a more fashionable victimhood.

At Guelph-Humber, where Muslim students outnumber Jewish ones by something like seven to one, the administrators have perfected a new moral mathematics: arithmetic over ethics, demographics over decency. To this breed of managerial mediocrity, courage has been replaced by crowd-counting, and principle outsourced to the latest campus census.

As for the Provincial Ministry — Nolan Quinn, Stephen Lecce, or whichever bureaucratic homunculi are allegedly presiding over Colleges and Universities — one begins to suspect they are not public servants at all, but early beta versions of bureaucratic AI: programmed to issue polite auto-replies, simulate concern, and accomplish absolutely nothing beyond the generation of digital signatures on emails no one will ever read.

As for the university and the colleges? At day’s end, what animates them is not equity, not ethics, not even the pretence of principle — but revenue streams, demographic arithmetic, and a kind of grovelling submission to whatever woke nostrum is currently trending on TikTok. Add to this the now-routine whiff of institutionalised antisemitism, and you have the perfect modern campus consommé: lukewarm, gelatinous, and faintly rancid.

Credentialism has replaced education; the diploma is the product, the student the customer, and learning the decorative packaging, like the parsley on a diner plate no one intends to eat. The professors worth keeping — the ones who think, challenge, irritate, and risk heresy — are hounded out. The rest inflate grades, pacify egos, and call the whole thing “inclusion,” as if mediocrity were a protected identity category.

The University of Guelph-Humber is not an academy; it is a mall kiosk of higher learning — staffed by weak academics who reinvented themselves as even worse businesspeople. The lights remain on, but only in the way they stay on in a derelict building: dim, flickering, and suggestive of a place long since abandoned by anything resembling intellect.

A. Subject of Review

Vice-Provost (Academic), University of Guelph-Humber — M.S.A.

Chief architect of faculty discipline and resident inquisitor.

B. Summary of Conduct

Every institution collects its share of mediocrities, but few manage to promote one to high office.

Never seen in a classroom, never heard uttering the word learning — she speaks only in the drab Esperanto of bureaucrats: “fill rates,” “tuition revenue,” and “risk mitigation.”

She has perfected a species of administrative sadism so polished it could pass for policy at Guantánamo.

A moral arsonist by instinct, she delights in ruin — burning reputations the way others burn incense.

Her only real talent lies in betrayal, and like Brutus, she saves her daggers for those whose competence offends her mediocrity.

She fired the finest department head for the crime of excellence; pushed an illegal complaint through her obedient subordinate, Edgett; and hid behind lawyers while performing the trembling-victim routine for her superiors.

She is not an academic by any known definition, but a bully in a pantsuit — the gravitational centre of every defamatory whisper about “violence” and “danger.”

For nearly two years, she has presided over a one-woman Ministry of Truth, dispatching her minions to menace me with police threats and CC’ing half of Toronto’s law-enforcement divisions, who must by now rank her correspondence somewhere between junk mail and phishing scams.

And when cornered, she squeals “safety concerns!” like a toddler caught with the matches still warm in her hand.

A toxic, manipulative apparatchik — a bureaucratic sociopath with delusions of grandeur — who, in any serious university, would have been escorted off the premises before the soup course.

C. Legal Framework

Ontario Human Rights Code (ss. 5, 8, 17, 47(2))

CUPE 3913 Collective Agreement (Arts. 19 & 32)

Kane v. UBC (1980 SCC)

Lane v. ADGA (2007 HRTO)

D. Violations

There occasionally emerges in institutional life a bureaucrat who comes to believe—truly believe—that her badge, title, or laminated HR credentials confer upon her the divine right to remake reality.

My case involved precisely such a figure.

This administrator fancied herself plaintiff, judge, and jury, all wrapped in one self-anointed bundle of righteousness. She signed complaints she had no legal standing to file under any human rights code known to civilisation; she presumed powers that would make an actual adjudicator blush; and she behaved as though procedural fairness were some optional accessory.

It did not stop there.

She quietly enlisted a close friend—an individual she never disclosed as a conflict, though her rage-filled theatrics made the relationship impossible to miss. This friend was permitted to howl, scream, and berate senior executives while the so-called “human rights office,” instead of upholding neutrality, became her personal cudgel. The department that should have been a check on abuse was converted into a weapon for it.

From this toxic partnership came the full trilogy of bureaucratic sin:

Procedural Unfairness

Rules discarded whenever they became inconvenient.

Evidence manufactured by suggestion.

Process inverted into punishment.

Conflict of Interest

Undisclosed relationships.

Personal grudges dressed up as “policy.”

The decision-maker is indistinguishable from the complainant.

Reprisal and Discrimination

Attempts to silence, isolate, and intimidate.

Efforts to rewrite events to justify predetermined conclusions.

Threats—direct and indirect—used to chill any attempt at self-defence.

Organised Defamation by Conspiracy and Inaction

With the assistance of similarly deranged actors, she spun fictions with all the flourish of a pulp novelist.

False stories circulated.

Whispers became rumours.

Rumours became “concerns.”

And “concerns,” through the alchemy of bureaucratic cowardice, became administrative action.

At the height of this fever dream, she even allowed a grotesque fiction to take shape—an invented story of “assault,” spread through staff and faculty channels like some institutional urban legend. When I attempted, foolishly, to correct the record, I was met not with professionalism but with intimidation. Her subordinates muttered about “police involvement,” as though the actual police existed to enforce her personal mythology.

She weaponized departments.

She copied half the institution on irrelevant emails to create the illusion of urgency.

She treated a faculty member she had never met—a decent man who cared for students—as though he were an enemy combatant. She poisoned the well, soured the workplace, and encouraged others to participate in the ostracism, all while lacking the courage to speak to him directly.

One must admire, in a bleak way, the sheer theatricality of it.

It was Kafka by way of amateur community theatre: overacted, underwritten, and so grotesquely disproportionate that you almost suspected parody. But the consequences were real, and the cowardice unmistakable.

It takes a particular kind of bureaucratic mind to commit such violations.

It takes a deeper kind to pretend this is justice.

And it takes a collapsing institutional culture to allow it to happen at all.

---

E. Comparative Standard

A vice-provost named in a complaint would recuse herself.

She presided — gleefully.

F. Impact

Professional destruction, aggravated medical condition, reputational ruin.

Turned a workplace into a show trial.

G. Context

Directed Edgett, Deason, and Bragues; shielded Ramadan; personal friendship ensured bias.

Investigation by Guelph or Humber: None.

Discipline instigated: None.

H. Proper Consequences

External inquiry and immediate dismissal.

Actual result: promotion by silence.

I. Recommended Actions

Terminate her employment — for the love of justice and whatever faint pulse of decency still beats in the institution.

She has turned cruelty into policy and deceit into profession.

To retain her is to declare corruption a core value.

“Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.”

— Shakespeare, Sonnet 94

And this lily festers.

J. Summary

She turned policy into persecution — and had the gall to call it equity.

A. Subject of Review

Staff member, Student, Business Program, University of Guelph-Humber — now graduated.

B. Summary of Conduct

She spread the fiction that I had assaulted a student and was under police investigation — and, in her more theatrical moments, that I’d been arrested and couldn’t attend convocation because I was apparently “serving time.” One almost expected her to start a petition to deny my parole.

When I asked her to stop, she filed a “harassment” complaint — a reflexive act of projection that summoned campus security and more threats. It was the perfect inversion of morality: the liar as victim, the slandered as villain.

I have rarely encountered anyone so incapable of distinguishing between falsehood and reality. She lies the way others breathe — instinctively, effortlessly, and without pause. These were not careless exaggerations but deliberate, reputational murder: criminal lies, sexual innuendo, and manufactured slander passed from student to student like a virus in a dormitory.

Worse, she was careless enough to document it — defamation by text message — and I have every screenshot. Five witnesses confirm her conduct. And yet, the Vice-Provost and her entourage, rather than stopping it, rewarded it. The university embraced her lies as institutional truth.

C. Legal Framework

Human Rights Code (ss. 5, 8)

Bent v. Platnick (2020 SCC) — defamation per se and malicious publication

D. Violations

Defamation per se

Reprisal

Malicious communication

Negligent misrepresentation

E. Comparative Standard

Elsewhere: formal discipline and apology.

Here: protection and applause.

F. Impact

Her rumours ignited the entire inferno — Dyson’s threats, Deason’s ban, Edgett’s complaint.

From one lie sprang an entire bureaucratic religion.

G. Context

Used as management’s proxy accuser to launder hearsay into “evidence.”

Investigation by Guelph or Humber: None.

Discipline Instigated: None.

H. Proper Consequences

Formal discipline, public retraction, and civil defamation proceedings in Superior Court.

I. Summary

She lit the match. The university built the pyre.

---

A. Subject of Review

Manager, Human Rights Office — Humber College / University of Guelph-Humber

B. Summary of Conduct

A manager of “Human Rights” in the same way that a pyromaniac is a manager of fire safety.

She accepted an invalid complaint transfer, ignored the most basic requirements of the Code, dismissed antisemitic complaints against Ramadan, and then delayed her own reports long enough to reshape the narrative. Her office was not a neutral venue but a political weapon — a cudgel for management, wielded under the counterfeit banner of “equity.”

She showed no concern for the rights of anyone who was not Muslim or pro-Palestinian, enforcing a kind of ideological caste system in which prejudice masqueraded as compassion. Despite her title, she enabled illicit complaints, manufactured paperwork, and transformed the Human Rights Office into a Ministry of Partiality. In short: she was Melanie Spence-Ariemma’s willing instrument — the bureaucracy’s useful zealot.

C. Legal Framework

Human Rights Code (ss. 5, 8, 13, 47(2))

Kane v. UBC (1980 SCC)

Baker v. Canada (1999 SCC)D. Violations

Illegal claimant substitution

Double standards

Strategic delay

Complicity in defamation

E. Comparative Standard

A proper human-rights manager acts as a neutral arbiter.

She acted as the prosecution in drag.

F. Impact

Collapsed procedural fairness.

Amplified discrimination and institutional bias.

G. Context

Operated under Spence-Ariemma’s direction and Ramadan’s influence.

Investigation by Guelph or Humber: None.

Discipline Instigated: None.

H. Proper Consequences

Immediate suspension and independent external review.

I. Summary

She weaponised the very Code she was paid to defend — and called it justice.

---

A. Subject of Review

Manager of Public Safety, Humber College

B. Summary of Conduct

Issued letters threatening arrest and police action after Bagot’s complaint; banned me from campus without a hearing or due process.

In her mind, the badge of “Public Safety” is a sheriff’s star, and the university quad her personal frontier town. She confuses authority with entitlement, and intimidation with competence. Every email she sends reads like a Kafkaesque warrant, rubber-stamped by panic. And I am sure she has never heard of Kafka.

Unwilling to meet, allergic to dialogue, she governs from behind the safety of her monitor — fierce in font, timid in person. The woman could turn a noise complaint into a counter-terrorism operation and still call it “policy.”

No concept of proportionality, no grasp of law — merely the reflex to threaten. A bureaucrat with a taser-complex, convinced that the entire faculty is one bad day away from insurrection. Would show up for a board meeting in a bulletproof vest.

C. Legal Framework

Human Rights Code (ss. 5, 8, 47(2))

Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms, s. 2(b)

Trespass to Property Act (Ontario)

D. Violations

There are moments in institutional life when one encounters not merely incompetence, but a kind of deranged theatricality — the bureaucratic equivalent of a mall cop discovering the power of a plastic badge and mistaking it for a crown. My case, regrettably, was one such moment.

Here was a security guard — a minor functionary in a Kevlar vest that looked as if it had been stolen from a surplus bin — suddenly convinced she was the Praetorian Prefect of Humber, endowed by some divine revelation (or more likely HR PowerPoint training) with the authority to police the speech, movement, associations, and private thoughts of university faculty. One almost admired the audacity. Almost.

It was procedural unfairness worthy of Kafka:

• Process inverted into punishment,

• Accusation treated as evidence,

• Reprisal disguised as “policy”,

• And the usual triumvirate of administrative sins — abuse of authority, ultra vires conduct, and thinly veiled defamation — paraded about with the solemnity of a church procession.

This was not security. It was theatre. And not even good theatre — more like dinner-theatre authoritarianism. The sort of thing that would make even Orwell mutter, “Oh, do get a grip.”

The absurdity reached its operatic height when this megalomaniac-in-a-vest began issuing directives about what professors were “allowed” to post on social media, who they were permitted to speak with, and where they were permitted to travel — as if a campus guard had suddenly become Minister of Information, Foreign Affairs, and Internal Security in one magnificent bureaucratic hallucination. It takes a special kind of institutional rot to produce such delusion — and an even deeper cowardice to indulge it.

But here we are: in an age when procedural fairness collapses under the weight of petty tyrants, when reprisal becomes policy, when the smallest bureaucrat imagines herself sovereign, and when defamation masquerades as “protecting the community,” one is expected to nod politely and pretend the emperor is not only clothed, but radiant.

No serious institution would tolerate such behaviour.

No serious moral culture would excuse it.

Yet academia — that circus of fragile egos and desk-bound authoritarians — not only tolerated it, but blessed it.

And that, perhaps, is the greatest indictment of all.

E. Comparative Standard

Elsewhere: suspension pending investigation.

Here: a commendation for zeal.

F. Impact

Spread rumours of criminality.

Aggravated PTSD and institutional fear.

G. Context

Acted under Spence-Ariemma’s direction and with HR complicity.

Investigation by Guelph or Humber: None.

Discipline instigated: None.

H. Proper Consequences

Immediate suspension and formal public retraction.

I. Summary

She mistook her mandate for martial law — confusing safety with subjugation, and becoming, in the end, the danger she was hired to prevent.

---

A. Subject of Review

Contract Faculty Member, Business Program, taught Project Management.

B. Summary of Conduct

A part-time propagandist masquerading as an academic.

He published antisemitic filth with the zeal of a street preacher, mobilised his followers to demand my firing, and then bragged about it to students — as if mob rule were a form of scholarship.

Thousands of posts, tens of thousands of impressions, all in the same rancid key. He urged others to write in, to “make noise,” to have me removed. When he screamed for my termination in a public meeting, he shook the walls and the resolve of everyone present.

A caricature of the modern ideologue: anti-Western, pro-dictator, and utterly enslaved to his own hatreds. The sort of man who mistakes rage for intellect and persecution for principle. Find him posting Jew hate on X. Investigated by Peel Police for violations of criminal code 318 hate propaganda.

C. Legal Framework

Human Rights Code, s. 5

Criminal Code, s. 319

D. Violations

Hate propaganda

Defamation

Reprisal

E. Comparative Standard

Elsewhere: Immediate suspension, investigation, and psychiatric evaluation.

F. Impact

Incited hostility, polluted discourse, and made cowardice fashionable.

Transformed the faculty from a place of learning into a miniature Twitter mob — a kind of academic lynch circle with email accounts.

G. Context

Shielded by Spence-Ariemma and Edgett.

Investigation by Guelph or Humber: None.

Discipline Instigated: None.

H. Proper Consequences

Suspension pending full inquiry and referral to police for review under hate-propaganda provisions.

I. Summary

He is living proof that bigotry requires no courage — only a university too timid to tell the difference between “academic freedom” and incitement.

---

George Bragues — Associate Vice-Provost

“He teaches ethics, though he’s never shown any particular interest in acquiring them.”

---

A. Subject of Review

Associate Vice-Provost, Business Program — University of Guelph-Humber

B. Summary of Conduct

Ignored defamation and grievance filings.

Allowed termination during medical leave.

The only one I knew personally — an old acquaintance turned Judas.

He would have sold his soul to the devil if it came with a title bump.

C. Legal Framework

Ontario Human Rights Code s. 17; Lane v. ADGA (2007 ONCA)

D. Violations

Among the many disgraces of this saga, none has lingered like the spectacle of watching a man who teaches ethics choose the most unethical path available to him: silence.

While rumours swirled and staff and faculty repeated what I experienced as vicious and fantastical allegations — stories so implausible and contradictory that even a bored first-year philosophy student would have raised an eyebrow — the one person in the institution who actually knew me for over thirteen years chose never to speak, never to ask, never to intervene.

He chose the route I can only describe, from my perspective, as cowardice.

And here is where the irony becomes almost operatic: the man teaches ethics.

He lectures students about virtue, courage, and moral responsibility.

But when confronted with a real moral test — the test of standing between a colleague and a storm of reputational destruction — he failed with a purity that would impress even the ancient tragedians.

He should know, better than most, the Greek root of cowardice: δειλία (deilia) — not mere fear, but the failure to act when action is required. Aristotle didn’t mince words about such men. They were not just timid; they were morally diminished—creatures who shrink from duty like shadows fleeing sunlight.

In my experience, he fit the definition with textbook precision. He knew the climate. He knew the rumours. He knew the professional consequences that were cascading around me like an avalanche engineered by bureaucratic hands.

And he knew that some of these whispers were being circulated by individuals linked to areas of the institution over which he had authority — yet still he stood aside, watching a colleague of more than a decade be swallowed by the institutional machine. To me, this was not simply unprofessional. It was not merely disappointing. It was an abdication of every ethical principle he claims to teach.

In my own judgment — and I state this as my perspective — he became a prototype of the very thing ethical philosophy warns against: The man who preaches virtue in public but cannot muster courage in private.

He allowed an old colleague to be socially eviscerated, not because he believed the accusations, not because the evidence compelled him, but because — in my view — stepping in would have required moral courage, the rarest currency in modern academia.

In the end, I arrived at a conclusion I never imagined would pass my lips about a fellow academic: in my experience, he was the most ethically barren figure I had ever encountered. Months before my own ordeal, he had already performed, from my vantage point, what I can only describe as a well-practised betrayal: he turned on the former head of the business department and presided over his removal. The irony, of course, was that this former chair had held the same role he now occupied — and had done it with infinitely more competence, intelligence, and integrity. The comparison was not flattering. It never is when a mediocre man is confronted with a superior one.

Here was a person ostensibly responsible for academic standards, an instructor of ethics, no less — a man who could quote Aristotle in the classroom but could not tolerate the presence of someone whose mere existence exposed his own inadequacies. When I brought to him what I saw as rampant academic dishonesty among students and faculty at Guelph-Humber, he did not react with concern, inquiry, or even the minimal curiosity one might expect from a first-semester undergraduate. He grew irritated, turned away, and shut down the conversation. It was as if the very subject of misconduct, when raised by someone he could not control, offended him.

And that was his method throughout: not the dramatic sins, not the operatic betrayals sung in the key of treachery, but the smaller, more poisonous ones that thrive in silence. The sins of omission. The sins of timidity. The quiet refusal to act when action might carry a cost. The steady, deliberate looking-away while others were left to burn.

These are the worst sins of all because they require no courage to commit — merely the willingness to be small. And smallness, in him, was no accident. It was a vocation.

And the ancient Greeks knew what to call that sort of man.

Coward.

Pure and simple.

E. Comparative Standard

Elsewhere: removal from office.

Here: rewarded for obedience.

F. Impact

Enabled every procedural abuse.

Reduced integrity to administrative convenience.

G. Context

Served as the administrative conduit and puppy for Spence-Ariemma’s orders.

Investigation by Guelph or Humber: None

Discipline Instigated: None

H. Proper Consequences

Censure and removal.

I. Summary

He did nothing, and nothing was exactly what was wanted.

---

A. Subject of Review

Provost, University of Guelph

B. Summary of Conduct

He signed my dismissal as one might initial a lunch receipt — unread, unexamined, and untroubled. Never reviewed evidence, never met the parties, never so much as glanced at the WSIB medical documentation.

A man of such serene arrogance that he mistakes apathy for impartiality and ignorance for prudence. He heard slander from the accuser, and the investigator hired by the accuser — and called it “due process.”

A bureaucrat who treats human lives as administrative clutter, a careerist who believes that empathy is inefficiency.

He is, in every sense, a case study in the banality of evil — tidy, polite, and devastating.

C. Legal Framework

Kane v. University of British Columbia

Knight v. Indian Head School Division

Human Rights Code, s. 17

D. Violations

Denial of natural justice

Failure to accommodate

Negligent supervision

E. Comparative Standard

Elsewhere: Independent tribunal and evidentiary review

F. Impact

Turned injustice into an institutional habit.

Transformed “administrative discretion” into a euphemism for moral cowardice.

G. Context

Acted entirely under HR directive.

Investigation by Guelph or Humber: None

Discipline Instigated: None

H. Proper Consequences

Independent review and potential removal from office.

I. Recommended Actions

Include in HRTO and civil filings.

J. Summary

He reduced justice to a bureaucratic reflex — a flick of the pen, a shrug of the conscience, and a life casually destroyed.

A. Subject of Review

Nancy Gilchrist — Grievance Officer, OPSEU 562

B. Summary of Conduct

A grievance officer who redefined bad faith as both vocation and art form.

Assigned as my legal representative, she confessed — without the faintest flicker of shame — that she had never read the collective agreement, the very scripture of her supposed vocation. It was as if a priest announced he’d never opened the Bible, or a rabbi shrugged at the Torah.

Appointed as my legal representative, she admitted — with the breezy candour of the unembarrassed incompetent — that she had never read the collective agreement, the foundational text of her profession. It was like hearing a surgeon confess he’d never studied anatomy, or a priest proudly declare he’d skipped the Bible because it was “too long.”

When I was suspended without charges, defamed by management, and left unpaid, she stood idly by, a spectator to injustice. No grievance filed, no advocacy attempted — only a sycophant’s echo of the employer’s lies. When management ransacked my private office, shredding papers and scattering personal mementoes — gifts from my daughter, letters from my late father — she sided with them. To call it representation is an obscenity; to call it betrayal would be too kind.

To call her negligent is too kind. She was a collaborator — the kind of bureaucratic functionary who mistakes betrayal for professionalism. While the president of her union, Milos Vasic, was busy accusing me of committing a “hate crime” for calling Hamas Nazis, she maintained her silence, thus proving that cowardice and complicity often share the same desk.

C. Legal Framework

Ontario Labour Relations Act, s. 74 (Duty of Fair Representation)

Human Rights Code, s. 5

WSIB Code of Practice (duty to accommodate mental health disabilities)

D. Violations

Breach of duty of fair representation

Negligent representation

Collusion with the employer

Failure to advocate or act in good faith

E. Comparative Standard

Elsewhere: Immediate removal from position and investigation by the parent union.

Here: rewarded for indifference.

F. Impact

Abandoned a union member during suspension without charges.

Contributed to defamation and aggravated medical injury.

Made a mockery of the concept of union representation.

G. Context

Acted in coordination with Milos Vasic and management at the University of Guelph-Humber.

Refused to file grievances or review documentation provided by the member.

Admitted ignorance of her own governing agreement.

Investigation by OPSEU: None.

Discipline Instigated: None.

H. Proper Consequences

Immediate suspension and review for breach of fair-representation obligations.

Referral to OPSEU Central and the Ministry of Labour for investigation.

I. Summary

She mistook apathy for neutrality, ignorance for fairness, and betrayal for duty.

In the long annals of union hypocrisy, few have done so little while claiming to care so much.

---

---

“Law without conscience is just the grammar of power.”

A. Subject of Review

External Counsel for Management

B. Summary of Conduct

From the first letter, she mistook menace for argument.

She issued threats of police action as if they were punctuation marks, drafted a report that airbrushed out every line of defence evidence, and treated legal correspondence as a form of psychological warfare.

A lawyer who knows every rule of procedure but none of the principles that give law its soul — a technician of intimidation.

Her prose dripped with contempt — every sentence less an argument than an execution. Her mission was never justice but silence, a perfect handmaiden to Spence-Ariemma’s petty inquisition. Every accusation, every threat, was built on an act of illegality by the College itself — and she knew it. But the Lawyers’ Code of Ethics, for her, was not a guide but a garnish — something to sprinkle on before serving malice à la carte.

This was the lawyer, mind you, that students were instructed to contact if I so much as said hello. Once, I asked a student, “How are things at Guelph-Humber?” and within hours I received a blistering letter from this hired hack — a parody of professionalism masquerading as law.

C. Legal Framework

Law Society of Ontario Rules:

7.2-4 — Improper Threats

5.1-2 — Advocacy with Integrity

D. Violations

Improper threats

Negligent investigation

Demonstrable bias

E. Comparative Standard

Elsewhere: Disciplinary referral and professional censure

F. Impact

Turned the legal process into an instrument of fear.

Deepened the defamation, magnified the intimidation, and converted every email into an act of coercion.

G. Context

Operated under direction from Spence-Ariemma and Edgett.

Investigation by Guelph or Humber: None

Discipline Instigated: None

H. Proper Consequences

Formal complaint to the Law Society of Ontario and immediate contract termination.

I. Recommended Actions

File an LSO complaint; cite her conduct in a civil claim for malice and abuse of process.

J. Summary

Her letters were not the instruments of law but the percussion of intimidation — threats wearing letterhead, and malice wrapped in privilege.

---

---

A. Subject of Review

External Investigator retained by Edgett, University of Guelph-Humber

B. Summary of Conduct

Produced a defamatory report without interviewing me beyond two hours or reviewing primary evidence, and then delayed its release by two weeks for reasons known only to the guilty. She has a reputation for creating paid-for customised smears and has no interest in impartial investigation; she is detested in the legal community.

Her so-called investigation was a judicial pantomime — a prewritten verdict in search of a justification. She never examined facts because she had no interest in them. Instead, she treated management’s gossip as gospel and built an edifice of lies around it, brick by bureaucratic brick.

Every paragraph of her report is a monument to bad faith: selective citation, misrepresentation, and sheer invention. She ignored exculpatory evidence, omitted context, and indulged the accuser’s fiction with a zeal that would shame a tabloid.

She is not an investigator but a clerk of convenience — a hired pen for hire’s sake — selling the appearance of justice to those who need its corpse. Her work is what happens when process replaces principle and ethics are billed by the hour. Every lawyer I have spoken to who knows of her can barely contain their contempt; she is the sister of Anita Anand, handmaiden to Carney and Trudeau, and lack of integrity seems to run in the family.

C. Legal Framework

Kane v. University of British Columbia (1980, SCC)

Baker v. Canada (Minister of Citizenship and Immigration) (1999, SCC)

Law Society of Ontario, Rule 5.1-2 (Integrity in Advocacy)

D. Violations

Negligent investigation

Bias and lack of impartiality

Procedural abuse

E. Comparative Standard

Elsewhere, investigators seek the truth.

Here, she sought invoice approval.

F. Summary

She turned “independent investigation” into paid theatre — and mistook the stage lights for enlightenment.

Coda – Mathematics of Injustice

Justice here is not merely unlikely; it is mathematically impossible.

The decision-makers are the defendants; the investigators are their contractors; the oversight body is ornamental.

What remains is not a system of redress but a self-licking ice-cream cone of cowardice.

The only remaining jurisdiction is history — and, perhaps, conscience.

The Gag, the Corruption, and the Coming Fight

I am doing what I can to bring the truth into the light. Will anyone actually act on it? Almost certainly not. CIJA — don’t make me laugh. B’nai Brith — no one is entirely sure what their function is anymore. My case, it seems, is beneath their notice. Tafsik? A rumour at best.

I have about 2,000 subscribers — most unpaid, many skimming, some merely curious. On any given day, perhaps five hundred to a thousand souls actually read what I write at freedomtoffend.com. A valiant little outpost, yes, but hardly the sort of thing that sends shockwaves through newsrooms or rattles the editorial furniture of the nation.

It won’t topple empires. It won’t detonate in the media like some great moral artillery shell. It is simply one man, telling the truth, as loudly as his small platform allows.

And, for now, that is enough.

But let’s assume, realistically, that no cavalry is coming. I’m not soliciting letters, petitions, or some earnest media crusade — I’ve walked that weary road already. What remains is simpler and, in its own way, far more potent: naming them and exposing the violent, petty, and procedurally illiterate abusers who mistook their offices for instruments of vengeance.

To drag their deeds into the open is a victory by itself — a small act of disinfectant in an institution allergic to sunlight. And perhaps, just perhaps, the knowledge that their conduct is now on the record will make them think twice before savaging the next unlucky soul who crosses their ideological tripwire.

They have ruined my finances, my reputation, my health, and now they go for a fourth: they want to force me to sign off that I am not allowed to speak exactly as I do here.

They want their names hidden, to scurry off into their wicked and dark little corners and pretend they haven’t spent between $600,000 and perhaps over $1,000,000, all dedicated to destroying one man who said he stood with Israel and — rightly — called those sub-human monsters of Hamas Nazis.

I was wrong. They are not Nazis. They are worse than the Nazis.

You may tell that I have not been mollified. Through all their threats and lawyers, through their confederates in the unions, they will not get an apology — nor will they get my silence.

So is the University of Guelph, Humber College, and the University of Guelph-Humber institutionally antisemitic?

This is a rhetorical question, a softball of inquiry, whose answer — based on their treatment of me alone — is an emphatic yes.

Do we need to talk about the Palestinian flags on stage at convocation?

The university's social media pages linked to “From the River to the Sea”? The screaming of “F** Zionists!”* in the hallways (a student complained; they did nothing)? We could use those examples, but what follows is better.

The Digital Smear: “Complicit in Apartheid,” Algorithmically Embalmed

After two years of institutional harassment, defamation, and bureaucratic cowardice — the University of Guelph-Humber, the University of Guelph, and Humber College jointly immolating public money to avoid a single honest conversation — I awoke to find myself accused of grander villainies still: that I am “complicit in apartheid” and a “denier of genocide.”

This was not an aside buried in the footnotes of some digital midden. No — it was the headline, the title, the first thing one sees upon typing my name into Google. The algorithm does not wait for context or truth; it rewards outrage. There it stands, bold and accusatory, the moral equivalent of a drive-by shooting — a phrase engineered to assassinate reputation before evidence can intervene.

“Complicit in Apartheid.” That’s the instant epitaph the lazy world now encounters — the synthetic stench of accusation, algorithmically embalmed. It is libel masquerading as justice, cowardice costumed as virtue. The author remains unseen, of course, skulking in the safety of digital fog — brave enough to defame, but not to appear.

And then came the organised smear. The Canadians for Justice and Peace in the Middle East (CJPME) — that great moral clearinghouse of pseudo-humanitarian venom — issued a public alert titled “Challenge the National Post for Defending Racist Canadian University Teacher.”

Who initiated these defamations? It was a fellow professor - Wael Ramadan - who was teamed up with the Vice Provost; yes, the equivalent of a president of a small public Canadian university was (metaphorically at least - cringe) in bed with an Islamist, but worse, actively engaging in and encouraging the defamation of a faculty member because he had the temerity to say that he stood with Israel and call Hamas what they are - Nazis.

He called on its followers to “submit quick responses to the media” — a euphemism for digital stoning — against journalist John Ivison and against me, the “racist Canadian university teacher.” One can almost admire the efficiency: defamation packaged as activism, hysteria distributed like chain mail.

And because every digitally assisted witch-hunt needs a chorus, along came the performative puritans at Stop Zionist Hate to goose the mob. A post seeded by Ramadan calling for my termination was duly amplified — some 532 “likes,” nearly a thousand comments, the whole ghastly pageant of outsourced conscience that now passes for civic engagement.

This is not a debate; it’s moral outsourcing with an upvote button. The algorithm gets its blood, the faint-hearted get their dopamine, and a university applauds from behind the curtains as reputations are shredded at scale.

This is the world in miniature — where mobs now outsource their conscience to “media researchers” and where slander becomes a civic duty. The image in CJPME’s own release shows a masked man waving the “Free Palestine” flag before downtown towers — a portrait of civilisation in decay. They call this “challenging the media.” I call it ideological vigilantism with Canva graphics.

The rot, of course, begins at home.

The Rot Begins at Home

At the University of Guelph-Humber, one of the chief celebrants of my professional execution was none other than Professor Wael Ramadan — a man who, in full view of students, bragged that he would “get another professor fired.” He did, and he boasted about it. The man has the moral imagination of a street bully and the ego of a TikTok influencer.

His social-media feeds — thousands of posts deep — are a museum of unfiltered bile. Material so rancid that when I once attempted to compile them through an AI program, the system itself refused to reproduce them. It baulked, declaring the content to be “hate speech.” Think of it: the same algorithms that will regurgitate pornography, conspiracy, and cruelty by the ton will not repeat Ramadan’s words. That is the measure of the man.

And yet, at Guelph-Humber, this is the moral exemplar — a diversity mascot with the human rights (in name anyway) immunity cloak.

Naturally, he has found a second home at Sheridan College, where he has been comfortably installed for fifteen years. Bureaucratic immunity, after all, is the only tenure that truly exists in Canada.

One might think that bragging publicly about getting a fellow academic fired — a person one has never met — would provoke institutional concern, not at Guelph-Humber. There, it’s applauded. It’s “equity in action.” It’s “diversity of opinion week.”

The irony is gruesome. At Guelph and Humber, the Human Rights Tribunal Code, the OPSEU collective agreement, the Ontario Human Rights Commission standards, and their own internal HR policies are treated as ornamental — moral decorations hung upon the Christmas tree of justice, but never actually forming the tree itself.

They are not principles but potpourri — scattered about to sweeten the air of hypocrisy. These administrators light the candles of “equity” and spray the mists of “policy” only to mask the institutional rot beneath. It’s bureaucracy as aromatherapy for the morally decomposing.

Ramadan — that central-casting embodiment of the antisemitic academic — is not an anomaly. He is a prototype. His hateful sermons pass through the filters of diversity bureaucracy because they are coded as “activism.” He is an anti-Semitic Fagin straight out of Oliver Twist, and even today, he gathers more students into his gang of hate.

Meanwhile, the university knows — at least twenty-five managers have been notified, presented with screenshots and evidence — that multiple faculty members have celebrated October 7th online, that they have shared the bloodlust of Hamas under the euphemism of “resistance.”

One of them, Professor Shupack, a media instructor, publicly glorified the slaughter. Others cheer silently, their moral courage exhausted by tenure and hashtags. But in this great inversion of justice, those voices are tolerated — indeed, celebrated.

They are like the principal’s sons on the soccer team, tripping over the ball, but guaranteed to start.

I, of course, am the heretic — the unclean presence in the temple. I can score two goals a game, but I’ll still be kicked off the team for the blasphemy of suggesting the soccer ball is a little too round.

Such is the modern university: excellence is intolerable, dissent unforgivable, and satire the only remaining form of heresy.

The result is what you now see on your screen: a digital kangaroo court convened by strangers, repeated by NGOs, indexed by Google, and sanctified by cowardly institutions. A man denounced as “racist” by people who cannot define the word, smeared as “complicit in apartheid” by activists who couldn’t locate South Africa on a map, and disciplined by administrators who couldn’t define due process if it were stapled to their paycheques.

This, then, is the modern university — a place where lies are collegial, cowardice is credentialed, and defamation is a group project.

And they call it diversity.

The Core Obscenity

At a publicly funded institution — one now morally overrun by faculty and staff comfortable trafficking in the most rancid strains of antisemitic bile — a professor was condemned for an act of moral precision.

I said to a stranger in Pakistan that I stood with Israel, and that if one stands with Hamas, one stands with Nazis.

It was not provocation; it was a historical fact — the kind of clarity that once defined scholarship before it became an HR offence.

Yet, in the strange moral inversion that passes for enlightenment at the University of Guelph — that bucolic veterinary school now spiritually rabid — it was not the apologists for fascism who faced censure, but the man who named them.

Those who post about Jews as “filth,” “devils,” and “sub-human” are indulged as activists; those who mourn Israeli civilians burned alive are branded extremists. The machinery of governance — political, administrative, and quasi-judicial — was duly hijacked by the same moral pyromaniacs who lit the fires. They have operated ever since with a sense of impunity as boundless as their ignorance.

The Gag Order as a Precondition for Defamation

On November 27, 2023, I was suspended, gagged, and expelled from campus and the learning-management system — the digital equivalent of a public hanging without a trial. I was prohibited from contacting staff, students, or faculty under threat of $10,000 fines and criminal harassment charges.

No evidence, no charges, no process.

The Ontario Human Rights Commission is unambiguous: restrictions on communication must be “timely, appropriate, and directly related to a legitimate safety risk.” No risk was ever alleged; no complainant ever claimed fear.

The gag order was not protective — it was punitive. Its effect was to silence the only person capable of rebutting the lies. I could not correct them, contact witnesses, or defend myself. Silence became the incubator of defamation.

As DiFonzo and Bordia note in Rumour Psychology (2007):

“When rumours are left unchallenged, especially in closed environments, they create enduring reputational harm and psychological distress far beyond their factual basis.”

At Guelph-Humber, that principle became policy. The institution’s silence elevated gossip to doctrine; its administrators enforced the lie by forbidding the truth.

The Four-Part Confluence: Evidence of Conspiracy

Coincidence is the refuge of scoundrels.

What unfolded that November day was no bureaucratic misfire but a synchronised assault — four acts, aligned in motive, timing, and effect.

1. The Meeting

It began, as most inquisitions do, in the perfumed civility of a conference room — Professor W.R., a handful of administrators, and the Vice-Provost herself. Within hours of that genteel gathering, the guillotine was wheeled into place.

The ensuing defamation would later repeat, almost verbatim, the phrasing of the Vice-Provost’s own remarks from that very meeting — a statistical miracle only if one believes in miracles. By Bayesian analysis, the probability of coincidence hovers somewhere between 2 percent and divine intervention.

2. The Suspension

I was removed and gagged by the Associate Vice-Provost, a man who admitted — without irony — that he did not know why. He had not seen the post in question; he had merely heard whispers of it. This was not leadership. It was obedience at a salary — the bureaucratic virtue that absolves cowardice by committee vote.

3. The Rumours

Within hours, the academic sewers were abuzz. My phone lit up with messages from panicked students — bewildered, frightened, asking why their favourite professor was suddenly being recast as a criminal. It was like watching one’s own obituary composed in real time by strangers with a grudge and a Wi-Fi connection.

As with all lies, once lubricated with schadenfreude, some of it always sticks. And it takes only a single spark — one whisper in a hallway, one email in “reply all” — to start a conflagration.

By nightfall, staff, faculty and students were told that I had assaulted a student, that I’d been arrested, that I posed a safety risk. Screenshots identify the sources, though “privacy law” has since been conscripted — not to protect the innocent, but to shelter the malicious.

More curious still was the wording. The rumours recycled the Vice-Provost’s own phrasing from her meeting earlier that day, as though her private insinuations had been distributed as talking points. The same adjectives, the same cadence, the same performative horror — replicated across departments within hours. The odds of that being a coincidence are roughly equal to the odds of the Holy Ghost chairing a disciplinary committee.

It was gossip with a letterhead, libel with a university crest — the petty sadism of office politics disguised as administrative policy.

4. The Investigation

Enter Gita Anand of Sherrard Kuzz LLP — the university’s preferred handmaiden for rubber-stamped verdicts. Her “investigation” did not so much examine evidence as perform the ritual of its absence. She interviewed me once, for an hour and a half, and then set about proving she hadn’t listened.

During that brief encounter, she accused me — with a lawyer’s straight face — of having “gone back in time” to post antisemitic bile on Professor Ramadan’s LinkedIn page before I had even heard of the man (he was outed by National Post John Ivison, and I found out by happenstance).

One might have expected the laws of physics to intervene, but alas, causality is no match for ideology.

The sheer idiocy of it was, in its way, almost admirable. I found myself being interrogated for the crime of retroactive bigotry — a moral offence apparently so grave that it transcends the laws of time and space. One half expected her to suggest that I’d borrowed H.G. Wells’s time machine, nipped back to Weimar Germany, and taken up a freelance post at Der Stürmer.

Had she pressed the point, I might have confessed — yes, I’d been there, and yes, I brought back a strudel, still warm, not yet embalmed in the preservatives of modern legal prose. “Sehr lecker, mein Frau,” I would have said — but alas, irony is wasted on the humourless.

Yet from that single meeting — untroubled by evidence, context, or logic — she produced a report thick with inference, dripping with condescension, and perfectly calibrated to deliver what her client had already paid for. It was the bureaucratic equivalent of astrology: a constellation of convenient guesses, connected by the invisible ink of prejudice.

5. The Investigation and Its Grammar of Guilt

Her exoneration, such as it was, read like a hostage note to logic:

“Based on the available evidence, on a balance of probabilities, I do not find that P.F. was aggressive with a U of G-H student and ripped off a student’s shirt… I find this allegation to be factually unsubstantiated.”

This is not a finding of innocence. It is the bureaucrat’s art of ambiguity — the language of a coward who wants the credit for fairness without surrendering the pleasure of suspicion. She does not find that it happened; she stops just short of saying it didn’t.

It’s a masterclass in innuendo: a grammatical wink to the mob that whispers, “We couldn’t prove he’s guilty — but we’d rather you still think so.” Every line drips with the same smug equivocation that allows universities to destroy a reputation while claiming to preserve it.

This is what passes for justice in our institutions: the syntax of accusation dressed up as exoneration.

6. The Statistical and Moral Certainty

A Bayesian analysis of these events renders coincidence mathematically implausible. It is between 92 and 97 percent probable that the head of a Canadian public university instigated the defamation against a faculty member. Everyone at Guelph and Humber knew — and yet they joined in amplifying the wicked slander.

On the balance of probabilities — the very standard the investigator misused — the conclusion is self-evident: a coordinated defamation campaign, conceived at the top and executed with administrative precision.

And yet the Vice-Provost still squats in her office, dutifully scrubbing at her conscience like Lady Macbeth at the basin, muttering “Out, damned spot!” while the stains only deepen beneath her nails.

The last time I invoked Shakespeare — his immortal jibe from Henry VI, Part II about what to do with lawyers — I received a furious missive from Bully Lawyer No. 2 demanding I remove the reference. I replied, with what I felt was admirable restraint, that Shakespeare has been dead for over four centuries and therefore posed no present danger to the university’s fragile legal ecosystem.

If the Bard unsettles them, imagine what the truth might do.

The blood is figurative, of course, but the ruin is real — reputations destroyed, laws broken, lives mangled — all to preserve her illusion of innocence. And still she walks the halls, perfumed and promoted, pretending she cannot smell the crime that clings to her.

7. The Law and the Farce

The law recognises this pattern.

Section 8 of the Ontario Human Rights Code prohibits reprisal for expression based on creed.

The collective agreement demands transparent, evidence-based discipline.

Both were violated with surgical efficiency.

And so, in place of due process, the University erected a kangaroo court built on hearsay, prejudice, and institutional cowardice — justice outsourced to hypocrisy and fairness buried under formality.

Rumour Evolution: From Lies to Monsters

The slanders began ugly and quickly evolved grotesque. Screenshots show staff telling students that I had assaulted someone and been led off in handcuffs.

Within weeks, the tale metastasised: that I had a “history of violence,” that I was “unstable,” that I had “inappropriate relationships” with students. Each retelling added fresh venom.

Allport and Postman described this process in The Psychology of Rumour (1947):

“Rumours evolve by levelling (details are dropped), sharpening (details are exaggerated), and assimilation (details are added to fit stereotypes).”

Thus:

• Arrest → Assault. “He attacked a student.”

• Suspension → Pattern. “He’s done it before.”

• Gag Order → Cover-Up. “The University protected him.”

• Hatred → Sexual Myth. “He’s a predator.”

By the third month, the narrative had ossified: a violent, predatory professor finally exposed. In the moral ecosystem of the mob, that myth required no proof; it required only repetition.

As Hirigoyen wrote in Moral Harassment in the Workplace (1999):

“The transformation of a target into a monster justifies the collective expulsion while simultaneously breaking the victim’s psychological resilience.”

And that is what they achieved. I ceased to be a colleague and became a convenient monster — banished so that others might prove their virtue.

The Monster Effect and the Poisoned Workplace

Once the label of monster is affixed, every subsequent act of administration becomes a kind of ritual cleansing — an exorcism staged for the comfort of the mob. Evidence no longer matters; truth has left the building.

The accused is no longer a man but a moral effigy to be burned, his ashes scattered for “safety.”

When you’ve been called a violent threat to children, essentially a pedophile, a bigot, and a criminal — often by people who can’t spell any of the three — there is no fair hearing to be had. There is only purification by paperwork. Bureaucrats with clipboards instead of torches, all pretending to cleanse the institution of some invented contagion.

Thus it was that the workplace itself became toxic — not by accident, but by design. President Van Acker of the University of Guelph, in a moment of unguarded arrogance, told Rabbi Steiner on or about March 5, 2024, that I “should look for a new job.” He had never met me, never seen the evidence, never set foot on the campus, but he had inhaled the mob's fumes and decided the verdict.

And yet even his negligence was outdone by that of Vice-Provost Melanie Spence-Ariemma, the priestess of procedural fraud, who — through intermediaries — announced on November 27, 2023, that I would be terminated.

The absurdity is almost poetic: it was the very day I was suspended and gagged, a full month before I was even told what the charges were.

She admitted, with the smug candour of the powerful, that any judicial process would be a farce.

By January 2024, two students confirmed that the entire business department had accepted the fiction as gospel. It spread the way all moral contagions spread — not through reason, but through cowardice dressed as solidarity. Justice had ceased to be a question of fact; it had become a matter of infection.

Psychological Devastation and Institutional Mockery

In January 2024, CAMH diagnosed me with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder/Traumatic injury with the union OPSEU 562 and Melanie Spence Ariemma, George Bragues, Nancy Deason, Danielle Douak and their confederates fully responsible, directly attributing it to workplace harassment and defamation.

WSIB accepted the claim, confirming employer responsibility.

That should have ended the cruelty. Instead, it deepened.

When I requested accommodation, the University mocked the diagnosis.

Their counsel dismissed my medical leave, refused to pay during my disability, and threatened me for communicating about it.

Every lawful act of self-defence was reclassified as “harassment.”

When I asked the staff stop spreading lies, I received a letter from the Director of Public Safety threatening police arrest if I contacted anyone again.

Thus, defending oneself became a crime.

As Einarsen, Hoel, and Notelaers observed in Workplace Bullying and Harassment (2009):

“Organisational inaction in the face of defamation magnifies trauma by isolating the victim and confirming the aggressor’s narrative.”

That isolation is now a clinical fact.

My medical records, my WSIB approval, my ongoing treatment at Sunnybrook — all trace their origin to that one November day when administrative cowardice replaced justice.

Administrative cruelty leaves bruises that the body records and time remembers. My medical chart now resembles the case file itself, a ledger of harm as methodically compiled as the allegations against me.

At Sunnybrook Health Sciences Centre, I was once again diagnosed with a variant of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), severe sleep apnoea, and major anxiety disorder. The Workplace Safety and Insurance Board (WSIB) accepted the claim — official recognition that the injury was inflicted not by accident but by design.

Medication, therapy, sleeplessness: they have become the grim routine of survival.

Many still think mental-health consequences are a sign of weakness or oversensitivity. I am not one of those people. I’m not, by nature, a nursery-rhyme emotional-safety type. But something happens when an institution you trusted turns on you — the betrayal is architectural.

Academia prides itself on nurturing truth. What I encountered was its opposite: institutional betrayal. The concept of “institutional betrayal” describes situations in which an organisation you depend on not only fails to protect you but actively harms you.

At its core, it is the abuse of trust. Psychologist Dr Jennifer J. Freyd introduces the concept of DARVO — Deny, Attack, and Reverse Victim & Offender — as a mechanism often deployed when institutions face accountability for wrongdoing.

In short, the institution becomes the perpetrator.

In this case, the college becomes the court, the HR office the judge, and defamation the verdict.

Under Section 17 of the Ontario Human Rights Code, employers must accommodate disabilities to the point of undue hardship. In Lane v. ADGA Group (2007 ONCA), the court awarded damages for dignity and lost income when a mental-health condition was ignored.

Yet, at my institution — Humber College and University of Guelph‑Humber — they did not simply fail to accommodate: they proceeded with termination during WSIB-approved medical leave, ignoring every communication from WSIB and every medical report.

A lawful institution might have designed a modified work plan under s. of the Occupational Health & Safety Act. 32.0.7, adjusting duties to match capacity. Here, the HR office went silent — not because it couldn’t act, but because it chose not to. Silence has its own weight — and in this setting, it became violence.

The mental-health damage inflicted by institutional defamation and betrayal is neither slight nor self-inflicted. Research shows that when rumours, defamation, and lack of redress converge, the psychological trauma deepens and becomes chronic. The mechanism of defamation here was not accidental gossip but an organised campaign; betrayal trauma theory illustrates how being harmed by a trusted institution produces symptoms akin to assault — insomnia, hypervigilance, survivor’s guilt. The body keeps the minutes of cruelty long after the meeting has adjourned and the memo forgotten.

There are documented cases where university employees, faced with unfounded allegations, defamation, and institutional abandonment, have suffered hospitalisations, psychiatric breakdowns, and, in the worst of cases, suicide.

The story of Nicole Chan — a Vancouver police officer, bullied and unprotected — stands as a grim emblem. While the contexts differ, the structural truth remains the same: institutional betrayal + defamation = existential harm.

In my case, the psychological toll has been severe. Night after night of broken sleep; mornings of anxiety rising like tidewaters; a body calibrated to fight or flee, when the threat is paperwork and whispers, not a pistol at the door. Medication dulls the edges but cannot erase the memory.

The human body heals slowly; bureaucracy forgets quickly.

And when the institution harming is the one sworn to protect, the betrayal is not just professional—it’s existential. The message is clear: speak, and we will destroy you. Silence becomes the safer option — until you realise that silence is itself part of the destruction.

In this arena, I refuse to accept that the outrage is “just mental health.” The outrage is real. It is not a rite of passage. It is a crime of procedure.

Conspiracy and Cover-Up

Throughout 2024 and into 2025, the pattern has been consistent: deny, delay, destroy.

The University refused to disclose legal expenditures under FIPPA, reacting like cornered animals when asked how many hundreds of thousands had been spent.

They refused to retract provable lies even after receiving screenshots. They criminalised my attempts to stop defamation, routing my appeals into procedural cul-de-sacs. They instructed staff not to correspond with me—a Kafkaesque edict that ensured silence itself became further proof of guilt.

None of this is conjecture. I hold the letters, the emails, the recordings, the witness statements. Every threat I cite exists in writing. The evidence is not emotional; it is documentary.

What they have said about me is speculation. What I present about them is proof.

---

Termination Letters: Evidence of Institutional Contamination

The executioners arrived, as they so often do in this country’s genteel inquisitions — in polite formation, smelling faintly of bergamot and cowardice, armed not with swords but with stationery. The first letter of dismissal came from the Provost; the second, from that same Assistant Vice-Provost — the ever-obedient George Bragues — who had once suspended me while admitting, with a kind of bureaucratic innocence, that he had “no idea why.”

His final act of servility, my termination letter, was a masterwork of intellectual cowardice: no evidence, no reasoning, not even the decency of consistency. The original sin — “insulting Hamas” — had almost vanished. In its place, my calls for due process, for evidence, for the right to defend myself, were rebranded as harassment. My human-rights complaint against Wael Ramadan — the proud, unrepentant antisemite whose online bile could curdle light — was twisted into an act of reprisal.

By this moral geometry, even the two Jewish students who dared to file their own human-rights complaints against the same man must also, it seems, be guilty of reprisal against a professor they’d never met — but whose poison they’d seen daily, oozing across their screens under the banner of “equity.”

As for my executioners: one hadn’t spoken to me in years; the other, never. Neither reviewed a scrap of evidence. Neither permitted appeal. They simply signed where told, as all good functionaries do — their courage outsourced, their consciences tranquillised, their signatures the bureaucratic equivalent of a noose.

Two appeals had preceded the execution — forty pages apiece, fortified with case law, precedent, and the very statutes meant to restrain the whims of bureaucrats.

Both were dismissed, unread, as one might swat away an inconvenient memo. The disciplinary hearing, that last pretence of justice, was quietly cancelled — due process now treated as a discontinued luxury, like civility or shame.

And so the verdict was rendered in the ancient style of the inquisitor: Off with his head—no time for the pretensions of justice, no need for the bother of proof. Guilt, after all, was not to be determined — it was to be felt.

They merely paraphrased the poisoned narrative they had inherited.

The Provost — the university’s chief academic officer, guardian of process and principle — became instead its chief functionary. He signed a verdict written by others, denied me any hearing, and certified fiction as fact.

At any serious university, such conduct would trigger an independent investigation and likely dismissal.

Here, it earned him a quiet round of internal applause.

Entering Round Ten

Every fight worth remembering has a tenth round — that private stretch of purgatory when the body is wrecked, the crowd bored, and the commentators already writing your obituary.

Mine has lasted two years: a bout fought not in a ring but in the fluorescent trenches of bureaucracy — psychological, reputational, financial bruises in place of blows. The judges’ cards are against me; the crowd —meaning the public —has wandered off. But the fight continues.

This next phase — arbitration, litigation, exposure — is not the epilogue but the bell. The situation looks terminal; the time is short; the resources are thin. Yet as Micky Ward proved in 2003, endurance is sometimes the only weapon left.

Ward, bleeding and half-blind, met Arturo Gatti in the tenth. Nine rounds down, ribs cracked, eyes closing, he found somewhere inside him a left hook that changed everything — a blow thrown not with muscle but with refusal. He didn’t win by grace or strategy but by the obscene stubbornness to keep standing.

I want to be Micky Ward. Bloodied, unbowed, still swinging.

What follows is not melodrama or complaint; it is evidence — letters from counsel, defamatory screenshots, medical and WSIB records, sworn testimony, and threats signed by those who assumed their words would never see daylight.

On the balance of probabilities — the standard by which truth separates itself from fiction — I remain standing.

So let the universities and their trembling functionaries clutch their policy manuals like talismans and spray “equity” through the corridors like Febreze in a privy — a lavender mist to mask the stench of decay. Let the province, dazed and deodorised, pretend it governs while its colleges ferment into petty fiefdoms, ruled by halfwits with mission statements and scented candles.

When the bell sounds again, as it must, I’ll still be here — bruised, yes, but upright.

Because the tenth round belongs to whoever refuses to fall.

I want to be Mickey Ward.

Sit up and watch. The end is in sight.

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.

1. In an interview with Aish.com, Murray states:

“From the moment I started seeing the footage coming out of Israel on 7 October, the thing I couldn’t get out of my head was the glee in the voices of the attackers… a phone-call recording I quote in the opening of my book, in which a young man from Gaza phones his family back home and says, ‘Father, father, I’ve killed 10 Jews. With my own hand, your son has killed Jews.’ I thought about that a lot. It would be like if the Nazis had livestreamed from Treblinka and wanted the world to know.”

He later said, “The Nazis had to get drunk to overcome their consciences when it came to killing the innocent, Hamas does it stone cold sober.”

---