Author: Elyette Levy

Put your money where your heart is

The case against The Salvation Army — and who should replace it

I think I speak for everyone when I say this year has been rough. On top of the COVID-19 crisis, the political vicissitudes we’ve witnessed have raised awareness about supporting nonprofits and charities who share our principles.

Notwithstanding the many holidays in the upcoming weeks, the end of the year as a whole has been associated with giving back. So if you are able to contribute to a charity, I have one request to make: don’t donate to The Salvation Army, and don’t shop at their stores.

Over the years, The Salvation Army has been at the centre of every possible kind of accusation. Their conservative mission has caused many to call them out on their abusive and discriminatory practices.

Most notoriously, they have vocally been against gay and trans issues. They have refused or forfeited housing to homeless LGBTQ people and maintained their religious stance against same-sex relationships and have a history of refusing to comply with anti-discrimination policies. They even held campaigns encouraging gay people to seek out conversion therapy.

The list of this organization’s wrongdoings goes on and on. Their workfare programs in the United Kingdom, a form of welfare in which people have to work in order to continue receiving benefits, have been heavily criticized for forcing people with disabilities — or anyone, really — to work in order not to lose their means of survival.

A homeless woman who stayed at a Salvation Army shelter has described the insalubrious conditions she lived in and the horrific behaviour of employees, calling out an environment that fosters abuse of power from the part of the organization’s workers.

All this under the pretext of the benevolence of Christianity.

This being said, if you would like to contribute to important causes, here are some other charities, both local and international, that you should consider helping out:

Resilience Montreal and Native Women’s Shelter

This charity is a good alternative to The Salvation Army if you want to fund a homeless shelter. They provide mental support, food, and medical resources to the community, and if you’re unable to give money, they sometimes collect donations of clothing and food. Native Women’s shelter is a branch of Resilience that specifically gives support to vulnerable Indigenous women.

Chez Doris

This is another women’s shelter with a similar mission to Resilience. They also offer legal services and advice to those who may not have access to a lawyer.

Afrique au féminin

This centre provides support and encourages the emancipation of immigrant and racialized women in Montreal. They hold classes, workshops, communal activities, and even daycare services to help women integrate into their community and regain their independence.

Mona Relief Yemen

The Yemeni crisis has left millions in urgent need of shelter, food, and even clean water. Mona Relief works directly with communities to respond to their needs, and ensures the least amount of resources are wasted on administration and intermediaries. They’ll also periodically send email updates and pictures from their projects, so you can really follow who your money helps.

3 Angels Nepal 

Through preventive measures, 3 Angels works to fight human trafficking in Nepal, where mostly women and children are smuggled across the border to India. Their projects ensure the safety of victims, and provide resources like microcredit and education to help victims reintegrate into society independently.

These are my personal picks, but I hope they help you look for organizations that speak more to your personal values, and encourage you to support important causes.

 

 Graphic by @the.beta.lab

En français, s’il vous plaît!

The Charter of the French Language, revisited

A recent Journal de Montréal report has reignited the evergreen debate about the use of English in Quebec’s businesses. Even more than that, it has reignited the flood of articles crying shame upon those whose primary language isn’t French, and has even initiated talks in the provincial parliament to bring reforms to the controversial Bill 101.

This report, aimed at exposing how prevalent English is in the city’s establishments, stated that one out of every two businesses don’t greet customers in French, and some even have workers who are unable to speak it. This conclusion, of course, fails to note that the downtown area’s high concentration of immigrants, tourists, and international students have heavily skewed their results.

Don’t get me wrong — contrary to many who attend anglophone universities, I don’t disagree with the concept of imposing the teaching of French on those who grew up here. I’m not totally opposed to the idea of preserving a part of our culture that makes us stand out from the rest of the country. Learning French is incredibly useful, and I find myself lucky that I was raised in a country that promotes multilingualism in this way.

Further than that, I don’t think English should become an official language of our province. We have built a culture around our language, which still represents a core part of our heritage — and I’m saying this even though both my parents are immigrants. To me, Quebec wouldn’t be Quebec without the dominance of French.

This being said, the war between languages can still be quite problematic in some aspects. I’ve conveniently compiled some definitions of commonly used terms to help you navigate all the articles you may come across when reading up on this debate.

Loi 101

n.f.

Also known as Charte de la langue française, this legislation asserts French as Quebec’s sole official language. Its articles outline specific rules, such as:

  • the use of French on product labels, packaging, and instructions manuals (Article 51);
  • the use of French on advertisements, public signs, coupons, receipts, and job application forms (Articles 57 and 58);
  • the requirement of sending children to primarily francophone schools, with the exception of those who have at least one parent who is a Canadian citizen and who has received most of their education in English (Article 73).

Many articles of this bill have been challenged on grounds of xenophobia and racism. Not only has it been widely used to assimilate children from ethnic backgrounds and discourage them from speaking their parents’ mother tongue, some consider it to create a lot of division among newly arrived immigrants.

Office québécois de la langue française

n.m.

Provincial organization that aims to enforce the use of French as the official language in Quebec. Over the past year, it has processed 3665 complaints relating to the observance of Bill 101, and whose inspectors ensure the proper punishment of offenders, such as a small bakery owner who used the word ‘espresso’ and a family restaurant named Kitchen 73, which contains an English word.

Bonjour/Hi

n.m.

Greeting used by many service workers to ensure the representation of both languages in their workplace. Also the root of a continuous debate about the prioritization of French in businesses that has caused many to support making English greetings illegal in the province, a decision which was ruled out in favour of public awareness campaigns.

I hope these definitions will help as you scroll through the Journal’s home page and find yourself impressed with their pro-Charte rhetoric. Though important, Quebec nationalism isn’t as ideal as they make it out to be.

 

Graphic by Taylor Reddam

Categories
Opinions

Going down the rabbit hole? How we’ve politicized the internet

I first came here for cat videos but now I can’t stop reading about conspiracy theories

The first time I heard of the Among Us game was in an article about how it had become the target of spam attacks led by pro-Trump supporters. This came a few days after Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez had set up a Twitch stream of the game as a way to incite people to vote for Joe Biden in the then-then-soon-approaching elections.

What used to be an innocent game that gained popularity among bored youngsters during quarantine ended up — yet again — as a battleground for Democrat versus Republican discord. So much for simply wanting to find your secret alien crew member.

Our southern neighbours’ recent presidential race has brought a whirlwind of political discourse in the past few weeks, and understandably so. The American elections are by far the most watched and discussed in the world. But then again, what’s new? Strong reactions to this event are expressed online every four years, does it make a difference that the results are still on everyone’s social media feeds?

As a Political Science major and self-proclaimed politics nerd, I think it’s a good thing that the internet, the most accessible and practical information-gathering tool we have right now, is bringing to people a sense of responsibility for the state of their country. I’m of the opinion that everyone should know their own point of view on political matters because everyone should be involved in how the country is run — in academic terms, this is called a democracy.

I also respect the openness about controversial topics that has sprouted in recent years. Politics are gradually becoming less of a taboo subject at Christmas family reunions — or at least, despite their prohibition, people are initiating these debates anyway.

This being said, the place we once went to to hide and not take anything too seriously has lost that magic. You can’t log onto Twitter or TikTok anymore just to watch lighthearted content and take your mind off things without running into a political feud. Every corner of the internet has been labeled with a political affiliation.

Many made fun of Ben Shapiro over the summer when he expressed discontent about sports being so politicized he didn’t even want to watch it anymore. “My place of comfort has been removed from me,” he said, raising many a mocking comment noting this as the definition for a safe space, a concept he has repeatedly antagonized in the past.

Shapiro is a controversial figure, and though I don’t necessarily ascribe to his political sentiments, I do feel the same way about having eroded what apolitical space we had. Now, I’m not certain if this is because people themselves turn even the most aleatoric content into part of a debate, or if simply more of our world is becoming political.

For instance, Shapiro talks about not wanting to read Sports Illustrated because of Caitlin Jenner’s feature on the cover, but she didn’t need to be politicized. She seems to me to be even more relevant to the world of sports than any of the models who adorn the pages of the magazine’s annual Swimsuit issue.

This is how a vicious cycle is formed: we constantly see political debates about the rights of trans women, so much so that we attribute this identity to a political leaning.

I feel for the kids who are growing up only knowing the internet, a platform the world is increasingly dependent on, as a tense and hostile place, and whose quarantine pastimes get turned into presidential debate stages. They might not ever know the simple times of cat videos, fail compilations, and the ice bucket challenge.

 

Feature graphic by Taylor Reddam

1995: The independence we almost had

The 25th anniversary of Quebec’s bitter defeat

The first time I ever heard the words “vote ethnique” was during my high school Monde Contemporain class. My teacher, a not-so-secret diehard Quebec separatist, explained that it was one of the reasons that many voters felt robbed of a “Yes” majority during the 1995 referendum.

It was claimed that the federal government had rushed the process for immigrants to obtain their citizenship right before the vote in hopes of skewing the results — an accusation that has left a lasting bitterness towards foreigners and minorities.

My teacher also brought up the hundreds of thousands of dollars unlawfully spent by the federal government on their conservative campaign, though failed to mention the ballots illegally rejected by the “Yes” camp.

I’ve been looking back on all this political drama, as the last referendum turned a quarter of a century old on Oct. 30. The separatist ideology has since fallen considerably out of popularity, with 82 per cent of Quebecers siding with remaining Canadians in 2016.

Despite the dwindling sentiment of nationalism, independence remains a major talking point in provincial elections, which brings us to wonder what even still drives this conversation 25 years later.

The economic implications of obtaining sovereignty are almost always the first objection to this matter. Despite Quebec representing just under 23 per cent of the country’s population, our share of Canada’s total debt — which sits at around 37 per cent — would be a major obstacle to our success without the federal government’s help. Our debt to capita and to GDP ratios have also been some of the highest in the country at the time of both referendums.

When the 1995 votes were cast, it was also uncertain whether the Clinton administration would’ve even recognized Quebec’s independence and accepted it as a member of the

North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA). Without a free trade agreement with its neighbours, it would be nearly impossible for Quebec’s economy to survive.

Not to mention the friction this would cause with Indigenous nations, who would have to renegotiate their position in the country, and with ethnic minorities, for whom the rule of the French tongue may pose an even greater challenge.

But the Bloc Québécois and advocates for secession also do make some good points. Independence would allow us to focus our resources on the development of renewable energy sources like hydroelectricity, and to build up our economy in an environmentally-friendly way.

Less reliant on oil and with full control of major ports like Montreal and Quebec City, the new country could make a name for itself on the international stage and form its own economic and political alliances.

The Bloc’s argument for the inclusion of immigrants is also particularly interesting because it asks newcomers to integrate into Quebec culture — by learning French, for instance — so that they can contribute to a general culture, rather than follow the current Canadian model that they claim encourages foreigners to stay within their bubbles. What they call the “children of Bill 101,” or the second and third generation immigrants who were proudly raised as Quebecers, are proof that this is an achievable and desirable objective.

For now, I’m not sure many expect the third and final referendum to be called. Yet, we can still speculate on what could have happened just 25 years ago, and whether there is still hope for Quebec to regain its sovereign ideology.

 

Feature graphic by Taylor Reddam

Sick or treat!: Halloween, pandemic edition

Wishing you a spooky COVID Halloween!

It’s hard to be festive during a partial lockdown. Though last year Halloween was cancelled because of bad weather, this year, the pandemic is the one who has set the brakes on our Halloween cheer.

I feel especially disappointed for the children whose trick-or treating-experience is going to be a careful endeavour. Growing up, this tradition was the only time of the year that my mom would allow my sister and I to raise our blood sugar levels that high. At the time, the most dangerous part of going door-to-door and meeting complete strangers for free treats was to inadvertently ingest poison, drugs, or needles just like the horror stories warned us about on the news. Part of the experience was also to show up to school the next day with all the candy we didn’t like (i.e. Tootsie Rolls) and hope to find something to our taste during the annual post-Halloween barter with our friends.

As we grew older, going out for Halloween became a much less COVID-safe activity, though we upkept the culture of spoiling ourselves for one day. I can’t say I’m not jealous of my past self who was able to see her friends at crowded house parties.

For me, it was also an opportunity to meet up with people I hadn’t seen in ages; our increasingly busy schedules are already pushing us away from our friends for longer than we would like them to.

Halloween is the first festive event that has really made me feel the effects of the pandemic on our celebrations. Christmas seemed really far away when we first started confining, and my family is too small for our Thanksgiving dinner to be a big problem. But knowing that the day after Halloween inevitably marks the first acceptable moment in the year to start playing Christmas songs, it feels weird to suddenly find myself needing to change my traditions.

I asked university students what their plans for Halloween were this year, to see if the season’s spirit will still be honoured despite our red zone restrictions. Here’s what they had to say:

Catherine Jarry, Concordia: Movie marathon, pumpkin carving, and cupcake decoration!

Alain Kalubi, UQAM: Like I’ll spend Christmas: bored in my room.

Bryanna Frankel, Concordia: Giving out candy, then going to Illumi!

Mégane Dandurand, UDEM: Cramming school projects.

Sannie Chie, University of Toronto: Gonna show up to Zoom class all dressed up.

Nanor Froundjian, Concordia: Dressing up as the devil and sipping on some boogie wine (mixed with some tears).

Marie Figuereo, Concordia: Home, baking, and movies!

Emmanuelle Morin, McGill: Might watch movies with two friends!

Hopefully, Montrealers’ Oct. 31st activities, however safe the restrictions required them to be, still celebrated the one day of the year we can be somebody (or thing) else. Happy Halloween!

 

Feature graphic by Taylor Reddam

Categories
News

Checking in on Montreal as restrictions extend

The extension of red-zone measures bring additional uncertainty to Montrealers

As the city enters a month-long extension of its red-zone restriction measures, Montrealers are feeling discouraged by the seemingly endless lockdown.

With gym and restaurant owners standing up against a continued shutdown, it’s clear that Montreal isn’t reacting well to the news.

In the past two weeks, Montreal has seen around 3,400 new cases and 20 deaths. Though Côte-des-Neiges—Notre-Dame-de-Grâce is where the most number of cases were reported for the last two weeks, Côte-Saint-Luc has been the borough most highly affected in proportion to its population size.

The people most affected in the past two weeks tended to be between ages 10 and 29, yet those over 80 have been disproportionately affected compared to other age groups throughout the pandemic overall.

This is presumably because of the nursing home crisis seen in April, with 18 care homes reporting at least one case of the virus. In the past 14 days, there have been over twice as many deaths reported in those over 80 compared to the rest of the population.

Interestingly, while Premier François Legault has stood firm on his decision to keep gyms closed, a majority of workplace outbreaks have been in shops: on Oct. 27, 20 out of the 58 workplace-related cases could be traced back to retail sector businesses.

As of Oct. 29, a total of 2,377 active cases had been reported within the Quebec school system, with about 85 per cent affecting public school students.

In the following weeks, more business closures are also expected, with local enterprises more vulnerable after a difficult first wave; 39 per cent of business owners have had to assume more debt because of restrictions. Quebec’s restaurant industry alone reported total losses of 30 per cent, or around $4 billion.

The announcement that Oct. 28 wouldn’t be the last day of Montreal’s partial lockdown has left many feeling frustrated and concerned.

“I’ve seen a lot of Instagram friends traveling to France or just anywhere in Europe in the past few weeks just to party and such,” said Naomie Tat, a photographer and designer who studies at Université de Montréal. “It’s really strange to me that they were able to do that; [it] feels irresponsible to me.”

Others are wondering what is coming at the end of November: with fears of overwhelming the city’s hospitals, it’s unclear whether the crisis will get any better come December.

“That’s what concerns me, we definitely can’t be having huge holiday gatherings,” says Concordia Political Science student Juliana Delmar, “but I have a really hard time thinking that people will respect [the restrictions] if the government comes out and says that there should be no gatherings for Christmas at all.”

“[I think] if they allow gatherings for Christmas, there might be a spike in January,” she says.

With these new measures in place, Premier Legault hopes the situation improves enough to safely allow for a deconfined holiday season — if not, the consequences could be devastating for our already fragile economy and for public health.

Photos by Christine Beaudoin

Categories
Opinions

Derma-what? The confusing world of viral skincare

Is this trend only skin-deep?

The steadily-growing YouTube audiences of influencers like Hyram Yarbro (Skin Care by Hyram) and Andrea Suarez (Dr Dray) have blossomed into an integral part of the greater self-care movement. Internet trends usually dissipate quite quickly, yet in the past few years, awareness has risen about topics ranging from mindfulness and spirituality to healthy weight management — and this movement doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. Companies have been quick to try and capitalize on this trend of course, taking every opportunity they have to market organic and vegan products, mass publish self-help books, and, of course, heavily publicize any skincare product they have noticed going viral.

Other than my slight annoyance that corporations are making money off people’s desire to better themselves, I also have a few qualms with the skincare aspect of the wellness trend. For starters, users have started adopting influencers’ opinions as the Ten Commandments of Skincare: many are now refusing to use any product that doesn’t stand up to their favorite YouTuber’s dogmatic preferences. But also, as has happened over and over with the DIY approach to self-care trends, rampant misinformation has caused more harm than good.

When The Ordinary’s AHA + BHA face mask went viral online over the summer, many thought that their X amount of hours spent on skincare YouTube rose them to the rank of “experienced user,” who the packaging clearly warns this mask is for. There’s a reason this product, along with a few more from The Ordinary’s popular range, are prohibited from sale in Canada: misuse of these products can have devastating effects. One woman described literally getting chemical burns from it.

It’s also unfortunate how narrow-minded people have become when it comes to skincare. There are only so many products beauty gurus can recommend, and the raided-out shelves of CeraVe, the most popularly promoted drugstore brand right now, are a testament to this strongly ingrained widespread comfort zone. Hyram and other skincare experts are influencers, and their endorsements are overshadowing other options that people are now less tempted to try out. I’ve come across more than a few TikToks of users talking about their newly acquired “Hyram-approved” products.

Ultimately, this trend of people wanting to take care of their skin and feel better in their appearance in a somewhat informed way is a good thing; I support anyone’s journey to self-confidence, and this trend doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. I guess I’ll have to wait a little longer for that “Back in stock” email.

 

Feature photo by Christine Beaudoin with overlay by Chloë Lalonde

A brief history of medical racism in Canada

How the healthcare sector has repeatedly failed Indigenous people

Content warning: This story contains some elements of racism and abuse, which some readers may find disturbing

Though the topic of anti-Indigenous racism in Canada has regained some public attention since the beginning of the Black Lives Matter protests this summer, nothing has served as a more vivid reminder of this reality than the recent death of Joyce Echaquan and Georges-Hervé Awashish.

Hospitalized for stomach pains, Echaquan, an Atikamekw woman livestreamed the abuse she experienced by the medical staff whose care she was under, as she screamed for help and pleaded that she was being given too much morphine. She passed later that evening, after spending two days in the hospital, leaving her husband with the care of their seven children. Awashish, an Atikamekw man from Obedjiwan, did not receive the same spotlight from the public, but his treatment was just as poor. The circumstances of his passing are still being investigated.

As protesters decried the deeply entrenched problem of racism in the medical industry, specifically when it comes to the care of First Nations peoples, Premier François Legault’s reaction and apology sparked controversy when he didn’t directly address the systemic nature of racism in our province, with many recalling his denial of it over the summer.

We know this is false. And the fact that Legault used to be our province’s Minister of Health makes this belief all the more alarming.

Articles revealing the absurd statistics about racial bias in our medical system are not scarce. A 2017 report confirmed a five-to-seven year gap between the life expectancies of Indigenous and non-Indigenous people, as well as an infant mortality rate 1.5 times higher for Indigenous populations. These numbers barely touch the surface of the issue; among these communities, studies have recorded higher rates of HIV/AIDS, diabetes, tuberculosis, depression and anxiety, substance abuse, and deaths from accidental or preventable conditions.

Studies about the disenfranchisement of Indigenous people in the medical industry point to disproportionately inaccessible and underfunded services, deficient education and data collection systems, and failure to consider cultural barriers as the main culprits.

But the government isn’t the only authoritative body to have failed Indigenous people; so have medical practitioners themselves. Other than the victims of doctors and nurses’ individual discrimination, who have turned into statistics and archived stories in the public’s eyes, genetics-based medical research has also often proven to uphold or be rooted in racial biases.

In 1962, geneticist James V. Neel formulated what he called the “thrifty gene hypothesis” — a supposed genetic explanation for Indigenous people’s higher tendency to be affected by diabetes and obesity.

In 2020, this hypothesis still has yet to be confirmed, and many experts have flagged it as a lazy excuse to shrug off responsibility for the type II diabetes epidemic currently plaguing First Nations communities.

The emphasis on genetics has repeatedly served this purpose. During the H1N1 pandemic, researchers were quick to suspect a correlation between the exponential rates at which the virus spread in Indigenous communities as a genetic predisposition. This meant relieving some of society’s accountability for the long-standing socio-economic circumstances that have led to higher chances of transmission and greater risk for medical complications — circumstances which have re-emerged in the age of COVID-19.

And let’s not forget the healthcare workers who took the practice of eugenics into their own hands for decades and performed forced, irreversible sterilization procedures on over a thousand Indigenous women. Shielded from legal repercussions by proclaiming these women were “mentally defective,” overly promiscuous, or alcoholics, practitioners were allowed to continue these operations until 2018, as far as we know.

The indictments of these practices as a form of genocide can hardly be called controversial. And those who choose to fool themselves into thinking that we aren’t a racist province are those who will continue to vote for a leadership whose agenda purposely excludes Indigenous rights and issues. I wonder how Premier Legault has managed to convince himself that these blatant acts of racism aren’t systemic. Crying ignorance to these issues is unacceptable; in 2020, it’s become irresponsible not to know.

 

Feature graphic by @the.beta.lab

Categories
Opinions

What’s wrong with being basic? A defense of the Pumpkin Spice Latte

Plain black coffee is bland anyway

It’s finally Pumpkin Spice Latte season! And you can bet that I’ve already had three since the beginning of the month.

Though, with great power comes great responsibility: each year, myself and other PSL lovers have to fend off the perennial critique that the drink is basic.

To that, let me say two things: a) the pumpkin spice blend that Starbucks uses is no less than fantastic; and b) what’s so wrong with liking basic things?

We’ve come to attribute a lot of things to this idea of “basicness”: the image of a Michael Kors-clad young woman with a Hydroflask® in her hand and Kylie Jenner’s Candy K on her lips, ordering a smoothie bowl at brunch.

To me, this rhetoric is just another, more personal derivative of our performance-driven society. The logic behind it is that it’s okay to deride certain aspects of popular culture because it allows the creation of a cultural hierarchy.

We’ve learned to gauge our place in society based on others’ behaviours. This is normal; humans are social creatures. In our hyperactive, hyperproductive world, though, we are validated by what we bring to society — especially in the midst of a pandemic, as we are bombarded with tips on how to spend our time usefully.

So when we realize that the conversation about who can be more productive or who is working harder is fruitless, we turn to who is more cultured or has more individuality, traits that are measured by our tastes and interests.

If performance is no longer an accurate determinant of social worth, let personality be.

Twitter user Salvatore Maicki gave a perfect example of this in posting a picture of a textbook page that graphed various elements of our culture into neat rankings (personally, I identify strongly with the tweet’s caption). At the top, you can find highbrow examples like “ballet” or “Hamlet”; at the bottom sit the “paparazzi coverage of Kim Kardashian” and “Grand Theft Auto.” The essence of this unwritten hierarchy is there: the less akin your interests are to the elements at the top of the chart, the lower their considered worth — and thus the lower your perceived value in society.

This assumption does two things: it reinforces the elitist ideas that we’ve based our social constructs on, and it encourages us to see others as two-dimensional rather than as multi-faceted individuals.

Urban Dictionary, a decisively authoritative source on the subject, defines basicness as being “only interested in things mainstream, popular, and trending.” So how do you discern the difference between what is basic and what is simply good enough to be widely appreciated?

Billie Eilish’s music was cool in 2017; now, it’s overly edgy and try-hard. You had good taste if you wore those chunky Filas for the first two months they were trendy, you weren’t if you bought them the day it was collectively decided they were tacky.

But these are arbitrary gradings we’ve created to apply simple labels on those who surround us. This “over-valuing” of originality shames us for being interested in anything popular, and pushes this narrative that people can’t be smart and cultured while also religiously watching The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.

Our tastes and interests are just that: they’re not telltale signs of a boring or daft character. Everyone thinks. Everyone has ambitions, opinions, and principles, and to expect these traits to be entirely encapsulated in aleatory preferences is simply unfair.

I’m an ardent believer in the “let people enjoy things” doctrine, and I have faith that people enjoy things that are considered basic not because they want to follow the crowd (though that may be one of the factors), but because they genuinely enjoy them.

People shouldn’t have to explain or prove themselves to anyone, especially not judgmental folk who roll their eyes at the sight of “PSL” scribbled on a paper cup. So, please, excuse me while I go get my fourth one this week.

 

Graphic by @the.beta.lab

Categories
Opinions

Putting the “Lib” in “Glib”: The modern portrait of Indigenous policing

The fight for Indigenous policing to be recognized as “essential”

On Sept. 23, in his Speech from the Throne, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau painted an optimistic and valiant picture of the country and how it is to be run in the next few years. He talked about a lot of things that Canadians love to hear: the government is supporting families, workers, small businesses, advancing scientific research for a vaccine, and saving orphaned kittens along the way.

This isn’t to say Canada isn’t doing well considering the circumstances. I can’t complain about the way the COVID-19 crisis has been handled, but one point many felt was majorly glossed over was that of racism and policing.

The polemical debate about the structure of our existing police system erupted over the summer, as the killing of George Floyd in Minneapolis rekindled the Black Lives Matter movement. Despite the suggestion of sweeping reforms, many felt that the problem of discrimination in Canadian law enforcement could only be resolved by defunding it and focusing on local initiatives to prevent crime.

In fact, in late July, it was reported that 51 per cent of Canadians supported defunding, a figure that the Prime Minister was careful to omit as he proposed to “modernize training” and “move forward on RCMP reforms.”

Among the maelstrom of voices criticizing our current policing structure, I have heard few who took the time to be alarmed by the Prime Minister’s last point: “Accelerate work to co-develop a legislative framework for First Nations policing as an essential service.”

Ever since the 1991 approval of the First Nations Policing Program (FNPP), the legislation granting Indigenous people their own police forces, it has never been granted the status of essential service. This is ironic because non-Indigenous police forces, considered essential, are allocated between eight and 29 per cent of their cities’ annual budgets. Meanwhile, Indigenous police forces’ budgets are considered negotiable because of their status as simply a government program.

Year after year, demands for proper funding to procure equipment that follows basic legal safety requirements and to run an adequately-sized police force have fallen on deaf ears. Between 2006 and 2017, the FNPP’s allocated budget stagnated, even though inflation made the Canadian dollar grow by 18.85 per cent.

A 2015 Public Safety Canada report noted that, of the 58 police forces created in 1992, 20 have disbanded — a 34 per cent failure rate for this program, most of them within their first decade in service. On average, the failed police forces had only five officers overseeing about 1,700 people, with a budget of roughly $0.7 million each.

Because the FNPP isn’t an essential service, the federal government has never implemented a reliable way to provide local police forces with the funds they needed. A lack of oversight and monitoring of Indigenous police has manifested into inconsistent payments and absent support, particularly for urban Indigenous populations, who are still subjected to metropolitan police officers’ racial biases.

These factors have been able to thwart the operations of Indigenous police, exacerbating the persisting crisis of missing and murdered Indigenous women. Despite their best efforts, officers are often overwhelmed and burnt out, and aren’t given the resources to suitably investigate serious cases like the rampant disappearances.

Many have denounced the FNPP as a structure that was “set up to fail”; the truth is, our antagonistic system of law enforcement has always neglected Indigenous issues, and the Canadian public’s nonchalance towards First Nations has also contributed to their continued deficiencies. And with Indigenous people being 10 times more likely to be killed by police than white Canadians, providing communities with a racially and culturally sensitive police force is a question of life or death.

What happened to the “Truth and Reconciliation” we were promised throughout the past electoral campaigns? Eloquence and prudent remarks can only do so much, Mr. Trudeau. It’s time to put your money where your mouth is.

 

Graphic by Lily Cowper

Poli Savvy: The clock is TikToking

There’s trouble in paradise as Americans’ beloved entertainment app is threatened to be banned

It seems like every week, the U.S. government is threatening to ban TikTok, everyone’s favourite entertainment app.

Though the removal of the app was originally set to happen on Sept. 20, the confusing ebb and flow of Chinese-American politics has unsurprisingly decided against it, pushing it back to this Sunday.

Unsurprisingly though, after weeks of suspense, the ban was finally suppressed by a federal judge.

As of now, we don’t know if the Trump administration will go through with this decision, or if it will be pushed back (yet again).

But the restraints applied to TikTok go beyond preventing young Americans from watching and making viral videos: it has implications with censorship, data privacy, discrimination, and economic relations as well.

A quick 15 second recap

In recent months, the Trump administration has grown increasingly suspicious of TikTok’s soaring popularity, with members of each major party questioning the security of the app, especially after a long investigation into Russian involvement in the American elections.

Though its U.S. headquarters are in Los Angeles, TikTok’s mother company, ByteDance, is Chinese-owned. The same is true of multi-purpose app WeChat, which is owned by China-based Tencent.

Right now, TikTok has an estimated 100 million monthly American users, to WeChat’s more humble 3.3 million (though the latter has recorded around 1.2 billion monthly users across the world).

With a combined usership equating to a third of the US population — or almost three times the population of Canada — the proportions and allegations concerning this decision are huge.

What’s going on with the apps?

Legally, the government of China is entitled to all the data owned by Chinese companies.

For a while now, the U.S. government has been concerned about ByteDance sharing private information, including location and contacts with the Chinese government, which earned them a lawsuit last year.

This comes after other scandals involving TikTok in regards to censorship: leaked documents about their algorithm policies showed they removed videos that were considered “controversial,” including any post which referred to the liberation movement in Tibet, the camps of Uyghur Muslims in Xinjiang province, or the 1989 Tiananmen Square Massacre.

On another occasion, some of the apps’ discriminatory policies were also exposed, showing that their algorithms tended to hide the content of “unattractive, disabled, or poor users.”

For some time, the only way for the Trump administration to let TikTok off the hook was to sell it to an American company, which would solve its information-sharing habit.

The top contenders have been Microsoft — but the deal fell through a few weeks ago — Walmart, and Oracle, who are now in talks to buy huge amounts of shares in TikTok, but not enough to please Trump, who won’t rule the ban off the table until the app cuts all ties with its Chinese owners.

Ultimately, prohibiting the operation of these apps seems to be a proxy for the friction in the U.S. and China’s relations.

With constant quarrels about trade, national security, and just the general values of each country’s leader, it is clear that TikTok and WeChat have found themselves at the forefront of yet another political conflict.

 

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The entitled and hopeless Generation Lay-Z

Why are they always on their damn phones?

As a kid, I was lucky enough to grow up with a web developer dad, and a paranoid mom. When it finally came time for me to create my first ever email address, I distinctly remember my father telling me I should never, ever, ever use my real name online, because “you never know what could happen,” and something about how the internet is dangerous. And that’s the story of how I came to be identified with, for the few subsequent years, the terribly cringey online username of “Elycat1.”

Finding a sense of belonging has been a confusing experience for those who, like me, were raised during the transition period between the offline and online ages. The security of the internet, the privacy, and the social implications of building our digital footprint were dealt with such nonchalance that I didn’t see the time go by until we were caught up with influencer culture and information overload.

We can say all we want about the calamitous effects the internet will have on kids’ brains, and the havoc it will wreak on existing societal structures. Don’t get me wrong, I’d never want to underplay the devastating effects of social media or of the over-accessibility of information on mental health, self-confidence, or social expectations. But I also see so many ways in which those younger than me have thrived from growing up in the digital era, and I can’t hide the admiration I hold for them.

These days, I’m noticing so much ease in younger people who are overcoming the hurdles my peers and I faced while we were shaping our identities. It might seem superficial, but I rarely ever see anyone dressed in the quite tasteless way I used to, or having the insecurities I did about my own interests.

I know not everything we see online is to be trusted, yet I feel a lot of sincerity in what teenagers publish on the web. For me, it was always a struggle growing up to find affinities with those around me, and it was very embarrassing (it still is) to me that the community I felt I belonged to most was the One Direction fan club on Twitter. But as computers and phones have crept their way into our day-to-day, even the most fringe tastes can create kinship among strangers.

It’s uplifting to read about kids supporting each other through coming-outs, anxiety episodes, experiences of abuse and other adversities they face, and to find encouraging, sympathetic voices coming from the same demographic that the media discredits as impudent and lazy. I have to admit that I sometimes feel envious of how welcoming many online spaces can be on platforms like Tumblr, which used to be seen as kingdoms of eccentricity.

I’m very inspired by the ambition and creativity set forth by younger crowds. For better or for worse, their identities and characters are a lot better defined than my own were a few years ago. Though I only started forming concrete political beliefs at the end of high school, I’ve seen kids much younger than that at rallies and protests. I’m not sure if this is supported by a society that more thoroughly endorses critical thinking, or by one in which maturity has become a pressing necessity — either way, it’s impressive how aware and concerned they feel about the world.

TikTok has been in the news a lot lately, and though it’s rife with short-lived trends, there has been a constant stream of heartening and self-bettering content. Educational, philosophical, politically relevant, and health-advocating videos have done numbers, and though some may see it as a trend or as a response to a demoralizing quarantine, it seems to me to be part of a greater youth-led movement that prioritizes self-realization and happiness.

For a generation who has only known a world assisted by softwares and screens, a lot of what is reproached of us, like being too reliant on technology or too disconnected from physical reality, has been implemented and enabled by a society whose goal was to make life better. It’s become a game of sorts for our elders to boast the pains they experienced at our age, almost in an attempt to prove their resilience — my mother always reminds me how far she had to walk to school when I bring up the length of my daily commute.

But in fact, shouldn’t we be happy that people have it easier than we do, and to hope they can thrive in ways we couldn’t? I am, at least, and I’m proud of the place young people continue to make for themselves in the world.

 

Graphic by @the.beta.lab

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