I said I stood with Israel and my world crumbled: The Savage Machine, A Kafkaesque Nightmare of Betrayal and Institutional Cruelty, A World Gone Mad

To the Jewish grandmother, to those who showed such kindness at the synagogue book launch.

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I am still trapped in a Kafkaesque dream, where Dung beetles speak and walk by me, tripping me and laughing in a strange insect way that sounds like Schadenfreude, the scraping snickering of Dung beetles.

Decency left some time ago; only silence remains. The university of reason, critical thinking and hope for the future have been abandoned; now, all that is left is an ugly credentialism, the hum of keyboards - no more uplifting than the roaring metallic din of the cotton gin in the workhouses of lore.

Only with Kafka could calling Hamas Nazis metastasize to this, where I am now called a criminal, where children angry about grades think it a game to destroy lives, where adults are children, and where there is a distinct whiff of the 1930s German universities where no one said a word when they expelled Jews, and where reality turns into a cancerous, libellous cellular march, a ugly blob, emanating from the offices of power, those who care not a whit for learning.

My existence is ruled by faceless and feckless bureaucrats, bloodless administrators who wield words like weapons, stripping me of my dignity with a hollow smile and smirks that I do not see but are like what the kids today would call a vibe.

Such administrators begin every meeting with land acknowledgements, performing empty rituals and virtue-signalling with a false passion, nothing more than a quest for attention.

Yet, they exist in a vacuum—the Vice Provost brags about the new Aboriginal art. Still, there are no Indigenous students in the school or perhaps one, and to my knowledge, she has never spoken to an Indigenous person.

She puts her head down and reads from a script she did not write. It is a vacuous, cliché-ridden, IQ-lowering hum, an neckless of emptiness strung together from a basket of empty words, each syllable like a pale bead, drained of its colour by insincerity.

And yet, this same institution—a place so eager to cry bitter tears for people thousands of miles away—exhibits cruelty on a level I have never seen to those who work just thirty feet away from them.

Some years ago, Fanshawe College refused to allow me to attend the birth of my dear daughter Sophia because I had not banked enough time off. No matter what, I was going to go, and they capitulated in a way, hoping I would give them some performative gratitude. I refused, offering them only the clunk of a closing door.

Of course, I went, and I was fired shortly after. I thought such academic cruelty could not be surpassed, but I was wrong.

But the cruelty is now purely digital. Everyone “works” from home, the hallways are empty, entire floors seem abandoned, and there is the unspoken assumption that only the professor and students ever enter the office.

It is a ghosthouse where administrators hide behind email signatures and automated replies. No one posts phone numbers, and no one answers calls.

What kind of organisation now intentionally structures itself to avoid human contact?

And yet, these savages—these people who hide behind remote work, bureaucratic silence, and endless deflection—have no hesitation when they are offered the chance to spread wild, reputation-destroying lies. They tell anyone who will listen that I assaulted a student, ripped off his shirt, and was led away in handcuffs.

It is whispered through hallways, passed through email chains, and amplified in classrooms. Or I should say, “It was,” students graduate, the news gets old, reputations get ruined, and legacies become ramshackle frames that the quietest north wind can topple.

Students tell me that to this fiction of my assault, they have added threatening, sexual assault, and God knows what else - now when I hear something new, I am not indignant, just mildly amused and disappointed; one student, a man of substance, said the rumours are now widely believed, they are now facts, but old news.

Considering that social media is at least 50% gossip¹, I should not be surprised that I get hissed at by strangers. What have the rumours putrified into when they reach the next person who doesn’t even know me?

Mental Health Awareness Week, Brought to You by the Architects of My Isolation

The irony is thick enough to choke on. Mental health Awareness Week is dutifully observed, yet HR denies me my pay and benefits. My former bosses—who once spoke to me warmly and respectfully—refuse to return an email.

A phone call? Out of the question. The cruelty of shunning, performed by those who hang posters about “supporting mental health,” is the stain on a newspaper when your tupperwared lunch tips over. That newspaper is later put within a frame and hung for all the naked emperors to admire.

So, every semester, while I remain on paid suspension, I am subjected to the same ritual of cruelty: HR trying to cut my pay and benefits, my name dragged through the mud once more, standing at the pharmacy counter again and again and hearing, “your benefits have been cancelled.”

My inbox is though filled with silence, only ads for new dog toys and trips to Israel.

This is institutional psychopathy in its purest form: the ones in power enjoy this. They take pleasure in watching the criminal who dared call Hamas Nazis to a stranger suffer; they will never respond, except when they enlist a lawyer to send me a letterheaded passive voice heavy threat that soberly details how I am not allowed to communicate with anyone associated with the university; I am supposed to walk past my neighbour Vincent who attended Guelph-Humber.

I don’t take the diktats of tyrants seriously. Let them rage.

A System That Rewards Liars and Punishes the Truthful

In academia, you do not need evidence to destroy someone—all you need is a lie told by the right person. A student who thinks they are an A student but is, in reality, a C student, upon receiving a lower grade than they expected, has no hesitation to falsely accuse a professor.

It is happening to me.

I live under the cruel skies of accusation and lies; it is odd to have humiliation for crimes not committed, and for so many of the morally bankrupt faculty—the cowards who surrounded me—now stand by dumbly and watch, never held to account, never questioned, never challenged. They say they never said anything they said, but yes, they did; I have six students who called me to say you did.

The irony is obscene: faculty and staff are free to accuse me of crimes in whispers and gossip and social media posts—but they never report these crimes to authorities. Why? Because they never happened.

A Culture That Celebrates Ignorance, Rewards Plagiarism, and Punishes Dissent

I once challenged the AVP at Guelph-Humber to address the faculty and student cheating epidemic. Professors copy questions and answers from publishers’ websites, and students find the same answer keys online. I dared to say what everyone knew but no one wanted to address: that most classrooms like this produce no real learning.

Students now actually think copying answers is learning.

For this, management has its vengeance.

This is the world I was cast out from: a world where professors facilitate plagiarism, where students demand unearned grades, where teaching excellence is despised, and where teachers are just grade dispensers. And in this Kafkaesque nightmare, I am the madman for daring to say that real learning is not happening.

The Indifference of the union, the hypocrisy of the activists

When asked to address the wildfires of defamation engulfing me, my boss says he is too busy, let me burn.

The unions scream at Palestinian rallies but shrug their shoulders when lies are assailing their union members. But they sign their emails ‘in brotherhood’ while abandoning me and leaving me alone to be assailed by vicious management.

And the excuse?

“What can we do when the top person is the worst offender?”

Is there any kindness left in the world?

The Labour Board, the human rights offices, and the institutions that claim to protect people like me are staffed by people who have never even read their human rights codes or pompous free speech bromides.

And in February 2025, they are still working from home because of COVID.

COVID.

The disease destroyed or at least damaged our sense of community; it played to our selfishness.

It turned organisations into selfish, isolated archipelagos full of monsters that hide behind keyboards.

It gave lazy, cowardly bureaucrats the perfect excuse to ignore the suffering of those beneath them.

A System Designed to Destroy the Good and Protect the Depraved

If you want to understand just how sick the modern university has become, consider this:

The man who has joined with the VP to defame me has posted over 3,500 anti-Israel and anti-Semitic memes since October 7, 2023. Many of them celebrate terrorism. Many of them call for genocide. He has publicly endorsed Hamas, Hezbollah, and the Houthis. He is with those devils, and I do not mean anything less than devils, those who strangle babies in their coffins and those who jeer and hoot and celebrate the coffins as they are carried out.

It would be good if God would go Old Testament on them, as with Elisha²; the bears could come out of the woods and maul them all to death.

And yet, my anti-semitic accuser has never been punished. He is protected. He is untouchable.

Meanwhile, I, who have done nothing but teach, challenge, and demand intellectual honesty, am being systematically erased.

This university, naked in all its ugliness, still parades itself as a beacon of human rights. Its students wear the finery of virtue, but their clothes are threadbare, and their flaccid flesh is exposed to anyone willing to see.

The Savage Machine Rolls On. There will be no justice here.

I have accepted that I will never return to Guelph-Humber. I have accepted that the depraved, the incompetent, and the cowardly have won—for now. I would not be safe with 3,000,000 baying hounds online calling for my termination and, worse, with hundreds of locals inspired and caught up in the fever of defamation.

But I will not go quietly.

I will continue to expose them. I will drag their hypocrisy into the light. I will not stop writing. I will not stop speaking.

I will never allow them to erase me. I will rebuild and be stronger. I have new friends. I wear the Star of David and the Cross. JB gave it to me and since I left his store it has never came off.

I will leave my enemies with this warning: what you create may one day turn on you. As Churchill said, and God, I love Churchill,

“Dictators ride to and fro upon tigers from which they dare not dismount. And the tigers are getting hungry.”

If you are a professor, student, or employee, know that your institution does not care about you. It will betray you the moment it is convenient. And no one will stop it if you remain silent and afraid.

1. https://news.mit.edu/2018/study-twitter-false-news-travels-faster-true-stories-0308?utm_source=chatgpt.com

2. 2 Kings 2:23-25